The Tioga County Agitato*: b.y ai. h. cob®. ... { Published every Wednesday morning cnd'/nailcd to MbcribersatOSS'-DOIAAIt AND FfFII? ; CENTS per yeSr.slMyS lN ADVANCE. ft 'Thepapferisaeht postage free to county ngj pribors, though they njay.f eceive their mail at post-! (fficos lo cated in counties' immediately adjoining, foi (conven ience. i, ■ The Agitato a is the Official paper of 'J! Co., and circulates in every neighborhood" Sub scriptions being on the advance-pay systemic circu lates among a class most to the interest of advertisers to reach. Term’s to advertisers as liberal axkhoso of fered by any paper of equal circulation in ’ Northern Pennsylvania.- -• . K cross on. the-margin of a pape", denotes that the subscription is about to’ expire. • - Parer;-: wilt bo stopped when the_subfecripiion time expires, unless the agent orders tbek : eontinn •hnce.- ’ • . r; , ’ JAS. IOWEBY & S. E*. Wl'-lOSj- A .HORNETS & COUNSELLORS ft LAW-, vCA. will attend the Courts of Tioga; P itter and tdcEcan connties. [lYeilsboro, Jan. 1,T563.] JOHN S. KAMI, A TTORNEY & COUNSELLOR Al! LAW, Coudersporjt, Peu, will attend the seveinl Courts in Potter and McKean counties. All buf^iess-en trnstc.d f to his cafe will receive prompt attention.! He has the agencyof large tracts of good settling Jand -and will attend to the payment of taxes on ,my In said counties. Jon. 2S^lB6£* DICKEfSOS HOUSSi - J . COBBING, "S. X.. % Mai. A. FIELD, Priptieior. OUESTS taken to and from the D(,pot:lsee of charge. £Jan. •] PEHHSTLyAWA HOUSE, COBNEB OP MAIN STREET AND-THE AVENUE, Wclisboro, Pa. •J. W. BIGONY, i .Proprietor. THIS popular Hotel, haying been re-fitted and re-famished throughout, is now open to the public as a first-class house. , [Jan. J, 1883.] IZAAK WAXTOS HOUSE, ( Gaines, Tioga County, Pa, H. C. YERMILYEA, Proprietor. THIS is a new hotel located within easy ac cess of the best fishing and hunting gfoands in Northern Pennsylvania, No pains will be Pnarod for the accommodation of pleasure seekers and Ihe trav elling public. [Jan. 3./U863,] *9 WATCHES, CLOCKS AW» Wfo. JEWELRY! Repaired at BULLARD’S A CO’S. STOEE, by the subscriber, in the best manner, and at os lore prices as the same work can be done for, by any first rateprac tical workman in the State. Wellsboro, July 15,18G3. VELLSBOBO HOTEU. - . B. B. HOLIDAY, „.Pr‘»prietor. THE Proprietor having again taken po£ fission of the above Hotel, will spare no pains l o inspre the comfort of guests and the traveling pul lie. At tentive waiters always ready. Terms reasonable. WclUboro, Jan. 21,1865.-tf. A. FOLEY, Watches,Clocks, Jewelrv, &c., .REPAIRED AT OLD PRICES. POST OFFICE BUILD N>, NO. 5, UNION BLOCK. .Wellsboro, May 20,1863. E. B. BLACK, BARBER dr HAIR-DRESSER, SHOP OVER C. L. WILCOX’S STORE, NO. 4, UNION BLOCK. ’ffeUsboro/ Jane 24, 1863, ; FLOUR AKD FEED STORE WRIGHT & BAILEY HAVE had their jinill thoroughly'repaired and are receiving fresh ground flour, meal, <£c., every day at their store in town, ' Cash paid for all kinds of grain. • • WRIGHT & BAILEY. Wellsboro, April 29,1863. ' Wool Carding and Clptli Dressing, THE subscriber informs his old customers and the public generally that ho is prepared to card wool and dress cloth at the old stand, tlm com|ng season, baying secured the services of Mr. J. PKET, a competent and experienced workman, find also in tending to give uls P ::;? nal attention to the business, h? will warrant all work done nt his shop. Wool carded at five, cents per pound, and Cloth t 9 twe,£ty rv&r Welicboro, May G, 1863-tf. , ~ BABBLE SHOP. ; T AM now receiving a STOCK, of ITALIAN JL and RUTLAND MARBLE, (bought: wiUi cash) and am prepared to manufacture all kinda-of TOMB -STONES and MONUMENTS at the lowest prices. ■ - lIABVEY ADAMS is my authorised Ggent nnd ■will sell Stone at the same prices os at thc ihop. r WE RAVE BUT ONE PRICE.. i 1 Tioga, May 20, 1863-ly. A. p. COLE. JOHN A. ISOS', Dealer in drugs and medicines, Chemicals,.Varnish, Paints, Dyes,,Soaps, Per fernery, Brushes# Glass, Putty# Toys# Fancy Gpods# Pare Wines# Brandies# Gins# nnd other for medical use. Agent for the sale of all the best .?at •enl Medicines of the day. Medicines wannfcted gon *une and of the BEST QUALITY. I Physician’s Prescriptions accurately compounded. The best Petroleum Oil which is superior to any other or burning in Kcrosine Lamps. Also, allother kinds Oils usually kept in a first class Drug Store. p3~ FANCY DYE COLORS in packages all ready tmpounded, for the use of private families. ‘ Also, ureLoaf Sugar for medical compounds. Wellsboro, Juno 24,1863-ly. ; Insurance Agency. THE Insurance Company of North Africa have appointed the undersigned an ages r for Tioga County and vicinity. As the high character and standing of ■lt give the assurance of full protection to owners of property against the hazard of fire, I solicit with con fidence a liberal share of the business of the county. This company was incorporated in 1791.1 ts capital is 5500,000, and its asseets in 1861 as pe: statement let Jan, of that year was $1254,719 81. CEAEEES matt, -S.EIHCR G. COFFIN, ‘OEcc of the Company 232 Walhj't Street Philadelphia. Centra I Ageh t Har risburg, Pa. JOHN W. GUERNSEY. * '• Agent for Tioga County, S^a, Jnly 15, 1863. 1 : : STATE NORMAL SCH-yOE, [For the sth District, Pa.] "■ ■AND Ramlicld Classical Seminary. Eyv.w. D. TAYLOR, A. II ....-Principal. itr. ;,..Asss6&llt. JJrs. H. g. Tavlos,...*V. ..Preceptress. A. Fa.bsswohth,~..—-..» Assistant, and Teachcrin Model School. * Assistant, and Teacher of Music. Yte Fall Term of this Institution will open Sept. Hr Jte Winter Term, Dec. 2d. The Sprin, [ Term, •‘toch 16th, 1864. Each term to continue {thirteen Wcelx 4 s vpmal School Course of study for graduation, c m S two years, is adopted. i ;■ .“Indents f° r the Normal Course, and fpr the Classi tl Department, are solicited. . address Eov.W. D.Tavbob,Jdans- Yioga County Peuna. Send for a Circular. W. cool RAN, ttrtr _ President of theJ}9Wd of Umteee. WH. HOLLAND. Secretary. . , Jawefield, August 5,1863. 'V - yoi.x In the afternoon of one of the coldest days of the winter of 1857, a very respectably dressed traveler arrived in the stage at New port, and put up for the day and night at Page’s Hotel. He was dressed in the common farmer costume, with nothing to distinguish him from mankind in general, except in the peculiar -manner in which he bundled up his Bead, to protect it from the cold, and the mon strous size of'iris overshoes. He was evidently a man of means, and altogether a jolly, good natured kind of a fellow, though, at times, an air of sadness shaded his countenance. He was traveling, ostensibly, as an agent for a manufacturing company in New York, but really—so the knowing ones thought—for some other purpose. “ What time does the stage leave hlere for Richford ?” asked the stranger. - “ Day after to-morrow morning, at ten o’- clock,” responded mine host. , Not till day after to-morrow ?” “No. There is a mail only every other day.” “ That is coming bad. It is necessary that I should be at Richford to-morrow night. Is there a stage to North Troy I’-’ “ No. The Richford stage leaves here at ten a. it., day after to-morrow—drives to North Troy—and reaches Richford in time for an early supper.” “ Can,l secure a private conveyance ?” 4 “ Here is Mr. S said mine host, pointing to me, “ perhaps you can make some arrange ment with him to carry you as far ns Dodge’s.” “ Dodge’s.” “Yes, ten miles beyond North Troy. That would he as far as he could drive and get back in one day. You can see what arrangement you can make with him.' He keeps a team, and sometimes does jobs of the kind.” I The' stranger said no more for some time. Be was evidently in a study. I.was in a study, too, and mentally resolved, that if it were possi ble,.! would carry the man for a consideration. “-Well, my friend,” said he, at length, ad dressing me, “ can you carry me ns far as Bichford to morrow ?” A. R. HASCT. “ Perhaps not to Bichford; I can carry you as far as Dodge’s, if that will do.” “I will give yon three. dollars and a half to set me down at Bichford to-morrow night.” Three dollars and a half, thought I; that will pay me well. The man is evidently bent on going to Bichford—l have a curiosity to car ry him. I might as well add, that I had a cu riosity for all jobs of the kind, from the’fact, that, on such occasions, I always “took suthin.” “ For four dollars,” said I, “ I will undertake the job.” “ Font dollars,'then,” said he, slowlyg “go I must.” “ Whattime will yon start 1” said I. “ At six.” Early the next morning, I hitched up “Old Sorrel," and in company with the stranger drove rapidly toward North Troy. It was a bitter cold day, a day when natnre needed a lit tle assistance, if ever; and, when about four miles out, passing through Newport woods, I drew a flask of brandy from my pocket, and holding it up to the stranger, observed, “ Here, friend, this is too cold a day to ride without something to drink—take some." “ No—thank yon," said he, “ I never use stimulants,” “Take hold, take.hold,” said I, we osn fill it again at Dodge’s.” “ No, I never, drink, never 1” said he em phatically, "I have suffered too much from it.” I felt rebuked that he did not drink. I had been debating in my mind, for the last two miles, whether to sound him in a round .about way, and find out whether he ever drank, or to put a bold front on-tho matter, and offer it to him at once. had never had the good lack to cany a teetotaller, and had therefore come to the very sage conclusion that teetotal ers didn't travel. But for once, I had got a live total abstinence man, actually transporting him thirty miles on the line. 1 thought him stupid— very. Dodge’s is a rum-shop situated on the Miss iesqnoi river road, between North Troy and ■Eichford. It is a place of considerable notor iety—celebrated in the country around as a low-lived, dram-drinking establishment, from which flows a continual stream of moral and physical death to the surrounding neighbor hood. It is a favorite resort for the abandoned and reckless. . . I was not at this time a drunkard. I was unwilling to admit that I was a moderate drinker.—True, now and then, as on the pres ent occasion, I thought it no harm to take a drink of brandy, in order the more effectually to keep out the cold. I detested drunkards. 1 was not at all alarmed about myself, end won dered how any one could be so foolish as to think me in danger, yet my wife had often begged pie to abstain totally. No other hu man being seemed to think of my becoming too strongly attached to my cups. My wife 1 thought a very foolish little love of a woman, and myself a very strong-minded man, capable of drinking a bottle of brandy nowandlhen, without becoming a drunkard. On the present occasion, I found no difficulty in disposing of the brandy, without the assistance of my staid companion. When we arrived at Dodge’s I had drank the last drop, and drew rein for the purpose of replenishing my flask. “ Not hero, not here, friend 1 for Heaven’s sake, have respect enough for my feelings not to enter this miserable place. Drive on, I have something to tell you. He grasped the reins as he spoke, and Old Sorrel shot by in an instant, and went trotting on toward Eichford. He had got something to tell me! What in the name of nature could it be ? Was it possible that so stupid a compan ion had a romance in his life. Nothing of the kind, I was sure. Perhaps he meant to regale me with some hackneyed temperance lecture. I consoled myself with the thought that in the course of two hours I should be back to Dodge's again. “Do yob see that ruin yonder, like the re mains of one of the primitive log houses?” “ Plainly," said 1. Secretary. u Vbt »«ar oz Mtzsvm. WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WRONG UNRIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE. &n.rct SiUivg* DODGE’S. >BtfeS«*g WELLSBOEO, TIOGA.COUNTY, PA. S MORMKG, JAMJAEY 27, 1864. “ Well, sir, ten years ago this winter, I found afdear sister there—found her, sir—found her! Earn did it I and! must I tell you the tale. I was one of the family of eight children, brought up in the good old State of Connecticut. My brothers and sisters were all dear to me. Alice, younger than myself, the companion of my youthful hopes and struggles, was dearest of all to me. Amiable and gentle, she seemed pnre as the beings of my imagination—a con centration of all that was good and lovely. Oh, how I loved our Alice, Too well, too well 1 She was my idol. I remember how T almost wished to chide her for giving part of her love to George- Dane, the village lawyer. I wished to be all that was dear to her, as she was all that was dear to me. George was manly and intellectual, and I had no reason to oppose her choice. Neither did I, only I regretted to lose from the homo society one so dear. They were married, and a life of happiness seemed a sure reward for their puri ty and devotion. For two years—years, I have reason to believe, of unsullied joys to them— they lived in the same village with us. At the end of that time, George determined to go to northern Vermont. They moved to T , and, for a long time, long and endearing let ters of their condition and prospects in their new home were received and eagerly read in the home circle. But, after a time, they grew less frequent, less encouraging, and, at the end of a year and a half, ceased altogether. There was a cloud in our old home—a shadow on the hearthstone. Fearful forebodings were felt by that band of hearts. Again and again we wrote, but months rolled around, and no ti dings came.—But one resource remained—l must seek my lost sister. Permit me to observe here, my friend, that my scruples were not opposed to spirit drinking. I was not a drunkard, but carried a bottle with me at times—drank when I wonted it, and was always in for a jolly time. I was, in com mon parlance, a moderate drinker, ns the most debauchees are, previous to becoming drunk ards. If there were no moderate drinkers, there would be no drunkards. In due course of time, I arrived at my des tination in T . I was surprised at the thriftless and general woe-begone appearance of the place. There was not a respectable looking house in the place, no appearance of enterprise and business,‘but a look of poverty and wretchedness, that made me shudder for the fate of my poor Alice. But Alice was gone. In answer to my inquiries, I ascer tained that they had lived for a while in com parative comfort and respectability, but that latterly they had come to want, and left the village. Nothing more satisfactory could be elicited—no clue to their whereabouts. They had disappeared—no one knew where. I spent a week in visiting the neighboring villages, and then returned home. , The joy of our household had departed forever. About a year afterward, an opportunity oc curred for engaging in a business, as agent for a manufacturing Company, which required travel in Vermont and Canada. In the course of this to/ur, one cold day in winter—so cold and stormy that traveling was impracticable— I found myself laid up at Dodge’s, with a fair prospect of a week’s stay; and to tell the truth, I richer liked the idea. I had, in my travels, ueoome addicted to the ardent; and, as I was the lion of the place, the “ rich stranger," who was „so 1 liberal with his treats, I found time pass swiftly, and—l blush to own it now, sir pleasantly. The storm continued for three days without intermission—one of those cold, northwest blows and snow storms that leave the snow piled up in huge drifts or fanci fully wreathed into shapes of wondrous beauty. In the evening of the third day, a little girl, thinly clad, and benummed with cold, came softly into the bar-room, and smuggled in be tween the great stove and the wall. I was not as yet, thank heaven, hardened to look upon the suffering unmoved; and I instinctively felt an interest in the little stranger from the mo ment I saw her, and my interest was greatly enhanced when I noticed that she timidly shrank from observation, and seemed intently watching for some one. I divined at once that she was an angel of mercy, sent by some lone ly, suffering mother, to persuado home some drunken reveller from this miserable den of death. Drawing my chair close to the stove, and speaking as kindly as possible, I asked her to come to me. “ Don’t don’t, please don’t whip me, sir,” said the little one, sobbing. “ No, my dear, I wish to help you. What are you.here for, this cold night?” “Please, sir, to find pa.” “Is yonr pa here, my little one ? Tell me which is your pa.” “ I can’t see him, sir, but ma told me to come and tell him that she was dying." “ Your mother dying—where does yourmoth erlive ? when did your pa go'away from home.” “ Oh, a great while ago, sir, I don’t know how long. But lam going back, we’re got no fire, and nothing to eat, and ma is cold.” “ Wait, little one,” said I, and setting her down behind the stove, I pushed into a room adjoining, where a few minutes before I had seen Dodge enter, and where I found that per sonage engaged in assisting a bleared and bloated individual to dress. “ Mr. Dodge,” said I, “ there is a little girl in the bar-room who has come to get her father.” “Tell her to go home,” said the drunken wretch whom Dodge was assisting. That voice. No, I was not mistaken. Time and intem temperance had not been wholly able to change it. I had heard it when itj inspired happier feelings, but I could not bo mistaken—it was the same voice still. The drunken wretch, who I afterward ascertained had been dead drunk for three days, was George Dane. The true situation of affairs flashed upon my mind at once, I pictured to myself Alice, the wife of the wretched drunkard, suffering, per haps starving at this moment, and I so near.— I took the little girl in my arms', and walked out into the cold night air. “Where do you live, my little one?” said I—“lain going home with you to see your mother.” “ Ob, ma will be so glad, she’s so cold and AGITATO hungry, will you please, sir, give me some thing to carry to ma to eat 1” I hastened back and tilling my pockets with ■cakes and crackers, returned, and taking the child in my arms, pushed through the snow in the direction indicated by the child,.to her home. And such a home 1 Oh, that a man should fall so low I All was dark, still, and cold. Not a breath to know that a human be ing inhabited the place, no feeling ef warmth, nothing but cold, dark silence. But the child rap to one . corner of the miserable hut ex claiming, “Oh, ma, ma, wake up. The man has brought you something to eat. Ma, won't you wake." And she sobbed as if her little heart would break. She continued talking in, this strain to her mother, making all kinds of en dearing little spcchea, and telling her that they would have some.supper now, and “Ma, the good man has come to see ns." She kept talk ing and sobbing; while I, by the aid of match es and a jack knife, succeeded in kindling a little fire, which grew and grew, till the room was lighted, and. some degree of warmth im parted. It was a terrible feeling to know that I was in that wretched abode with death and my sister. There was nothing- that deserved the name of furniture in the room. Not a chair, not a stool, not a bench, even ; except a cup board in one corner, to indicate that it was a human habitation. Close by the fire, on a nest of straw, was the cold emaciated form of my sister Altco. What a meeting was this, after a five year’s absence! I took her by the hand ; it was cold as death. I raised her up, and held her up to the fire, and rubbed my hands rapid ly over her wrists and temples, to impart warmth. Is she dead 1 Oh, this must not bad Look at mo, Alice. lam your brother, come to save you. I could not bear the thought that she was dead. At length came the reward of, my labors.— She breathed, faintly, it was true; but life— no, she wjas not dead. Calmly I worked on, and slowly, yet surely, my sister was coming to life. She spoke, but her mind evidently wan dered. “Ob, George,” said she, “I am so glad you have come, and you are so changed. 1 thought I should die, I was so cold and hungry. I sent little Alice after you, and you were so good not to beat her.- I had such a sweet dream. Oh, George, it is growing dark. lam dying.” “ It is I, Alice, look at me.” She swooned away, exhausted gasping for breath. Just Ileaven 1 what if she should die now. No, I must save her. I went to the door, and got a handful of show, and, by the warmth imparted by my hands, succeeded in melting it, and applying a few drops to her lips, and ba thing her temples, she again revived. Her eye was clear, calm, and natural now. There was the same sweet look as of old; But she was white—oh, so white and death like.— She looked more like an angel from the spirit world, than the flesh and being that she really was. Extending her hand toward me, she murmured, in a voice sweet in its softness and sadness. “ Henry ! is it Henry ?” “Yes, Alice, it is Henry, come to take you home to your father and mother." “ Ob, Henry, is it possible ? What a horrid memory I” And she pressed her hands-over her eyes as if to shut-out some horrid image of the past “ But it is over now. I have seen the death angel— I am going soon. Oh, Lord Jesus, have mercy on my child, my dear little Alice. Is not George hero ?” “ No, he has not come yet. But don’t think such thoughts, Alice. You are not going to die. Cheer up, you must go home with me.” “ Home, yes, I am going home now. Hold me in your arms, brother dear, I am so weak. I wish that George was here to see me die—he was kind to me once, but he was led away.— Rum did it. He did not mean to be so bad, but the best society drink hero. He couldn’t drink a little without drinking too much. Tell him I forgive him. Tell father and, mother I have suffered but I am happy now. I longed to write and let you know all, but I hoped for better times. I hoped every revel would bo hia last. But oh, the power of rum 1 It is fearful, Henry, the power of rnm. George has fallen—he is a victim. The world will con demn him, but the world will never know how bravely ho, strove to break the charm. The world don’t know bow much he has suffered. They know hia sins—hia sufferings they do not wish to know. Poor George, there is no rum in heaven." ' “ She continued to speak, but fainter and fainter; till her voice died to a whisper. I “ ‘ Henry, you drink. Don’t deceive me—l flo not love you the less, hut I fear for you.— Oh, how I have prayed that you might be spared this awful fate. It is an awful thing to he a drunkard. I shall die in your arms. And as you love me, Henry, as you wish to meet me in the spirit-laud, promise me that you will drink no more. I cannot; bear the thought that you, too, will be a drunkard. It is the last prayer of your dying sister, that you will never drink another drop of rum. Will you prom ise V “ ‘ I do promise, Alice, never, as I hope for heaven, never will I drink again.’ “ ‘ Ob, thank yon, thank you, Eenry ; yon are the same noblo brother. I can die easy now. Take little Alice—give her to father—tell him to let her have her mother’s place in his heart. Bury me in the church-yard with sister. Kiss brothers and sisters for me—tell them to meet mo above. Tell George— “ There was a slight quiver—a gasp—and the spirit had returned to God who gave it.. • “ She sleeps now in the cold church-yard, the link that connects my soul with heaven. “ I have kept my promise. Not a drop has passed my lips to this day, and, by the help of God, there never shall. This, sir, is the reason why I never drink. I have seen hundreds of sisters and wives made miserable by rum , but I never realized the awful sin of drunkenness, till it was brought home to me and mine. And now, stranger, join with me,-and throw your bottle into the Missisquoi, and yon will never regret iti” - - ’ Dutchman and the Hotel Currency. During General Bee’s invasion Stf [Pennsyl vania last summer, a detachment of the rebel army “had possession for a few days of the thriving town of Hanover, in the county of York, lying some twenty or more miles west of Gettysburg. Apprised of their coming, the merchants and buisness men of the town most ly, placed their movable goods safely out of the reach of the pilferers. They secured but lit ■ tie booty. What they could lay their hands on, however, they did not fail to bag. Aroonglhe heaviest loosora was one of the landlords of the town, the proprietor of a well conducted country tavern. At his house the hungry rebels made themselves “ well at home.” _■-{-Without leave or license, they devoured his stock of bacon, beef and poultry, consumed all his flour, which they forced the landlady to bake into bread and pies, used his forage, occupied his beds, and, of course, drank up his entire stock of liquors. Of this, before they left, not so many pints, for what they could not guzzle on the spot they contrived to take along.' As they were about taking their departure for Gettysburg a Georgia Colonel, exhibiting a degree of conscientiousness not shared by any of his associates, remarked to the landlord that it was a pity to consume so much of his-prop erty without any compensation, and that if ho one else would extend justice to him, Tie would, at the same time throwing on the bar a bill of the denomination of twenty dollars. “ There,” said the rebel chieftain, “ my good follow, take that as myshare of our indebted ness.” “ Vot kind of monish ish dat ?" inquired the landlord, one of the class of Pennsylvania Germans so proverbial alike for sagacity and in tegrity. “Thatsir, is a greyhaak; in other words, a note of the Confederate States of America.” “ ostranger,” said the hotel keeper, “if you hash not got no'petter monish as dat, you’ll petter' keep it. I don’t wants none of it; it is goo); fer nix; no petter as plank paper.” “Sir,” rejoined the somewhat indignant ep auletted Georgian, “ I advise you to take it and be glad for the opportunity. Ton will soon find it the best money in the world. Keep it, sir, keep it.” “ Nein, nein,” retorted mynherr of the swinging sign; “dat monish will never be wort anyting here nor anywhere. I would not give one silver thaler for a bread-basket full. I von’t be seen mit it in my hand ; and if you don’t take it along, I rolls it up, holds it at the candle un lights mine pipe mit it.” , He was about suiting the action to the word when the Georgian took the note up from the counter, and- returned it to bis wallet. The Hanover landlord deserves praise, not for his loyalty alone in the presence of an insolent foe, but is likewise to be commended for his finan cial sagacity, which is far ahead of Memmin ger himself. President Lincoln’s “ Last” Story.—A few days'since a New England gentleman called at the White House to propose a new plan for cap taring Richmond. “ I know, Mr. President,” said be, “ that the Union men in the rebel cap ital, with the prisoners and the contrabands there, are able to overpower the garrison—so all you have to do is to let Gen. Meade make a diversion against Lee’s army, and then let' Gen. Butler go up James river to co-operate with the Unionists.” “ I have great confidence in Gen. Butler,” replied Mr. Lincoln, “ but I am not sure about Richmond. Your plan re minds me of a story told of a lot of Methodist ministers, who were the trustees of a Western college. It so happened that this college was connected with a neighboring town by a bridge, and that this bridge was subjected to ba car ried away by freshets. At last they held a ses sion, to receive the plans of a noted bridge builder, a good mechanic, but rather a profane man.— ‘ Can you build this bridge ? asked' a reverend gentleman. ‘Build it,’ bluntly re plied the mechanic,‘l could build a bridge to hell.’ This horified the trustees, and after the bridge-builder had retired, the minister who had recommended him thought proper to apol olgiza. ‘I feel confident,’ said he, ‘that our en ergetic friend could build a safe bridge to Hades, although I am not so sure of the abutment on the other side. And so with your plan—con cluded the President—l have great confidence in Gen. Butler, hot doubt the strength of the Unionists in Richmond.” Gen. Grant in a Horse Trade.—A few Congressmen on a railroad train-the other day entered into a conversation about the merits of different Generals in our army, in the course of which one of them told the following story about General Grant; “I knew Ulysses Grant when ho was a little boy. We used to go to school together, near Georgetown, Brown County Ohio. The boys used to plague him dreadfully about a horse .trade he onco made.—When he was about twelve years old, his father sent him a few miles into the country to buy a horse of a man named Ralston. The old man told Ulysses to offer fifty dollars at first; if he wouldn’t take that, to offer fifty-fivo.dollars, and go as high as six ty dollars if no less would make the purchase. The embryotic Major General started off with these instructions full impressed upon his mind. He called upon Mr. Ralston and told him he wished to buy the horse. ‘How much did your father tell you to give for him? was.a Very natural inquiry from the owner of the stock. ‘ Why said Ulysses, ‘ he told me to offer yon fifty dollars, and.if that wouldn’t do to give you fifty-five dollars, and if you wouldn’t take less than sixty dollars to give you that. Of coarse'sixty dollars was the lowest figure, and on payment of that amount the animal be came' .the property of the young Napoleon.’ .A few evenings simie, a widow, who was known by the entire congregation to be greatly in want of a bnsband, was praying with great fervency, ‘f Oh 1 thou knowest what is the de sire of ray heart!” she exclaimed. “ A-m-a-n 1” responded a brother, in a broad accent. It was we are quite sure that several -grave raemßers saailed on thooscasiodi' Bates of Advertising, Advertisements will be charged Si per aqsareot I # lines, one or three insertions', and 25 cents for every subsequent insertion. Advertisements of less than 19 lines considered as a square. - The subjoined rates will be charged for Quarterly,Half-Tearlyand Yearly advertisements: , _ 3 Hotmta, SiroMas. 12 hoirraa. 1 Square, 33,00 $4,50 $6,09, 2 <Jo S,OO g js o 8,09 f „ - I' 00 8,50 10,09 i C01umn,...,.... 8,00 9,53 12 so i do. 13,00 20,00 25,00 1 do 25,00 35,00 40,00 Advertisements not having the number of inser tions desired marked upon them, -still bo-published until ordered out and charged accordingly. Posters, Handbills, Bill-Heads, Better-Heads, snd all kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, executed neatly and promptly. Justices’, Constable’s dnd other BLANKS, constantly on hand. m 21 In the Senate, LOWRY of Brie offered tha following resolution: Resolved, That tho State Treasurer be direct ed to pay the interest falling due on the first •day of February, 1864, in the lawful currency of the government collected of the people for taxes and now in his hands." Upon which the Hon. S. F. Wilson spoke as follows: Mr. WILSON. Ido not rise to make an ar gument upon the question before the Senate, but merely to say that I am in favor of the res olution offered by the Senator from Erie, A similar resolution was offered by that Senator last year very soon after I had the honor of being admitted to a seat on this floor. I thought then, as I think now, that such a tesoln* tion should be sustained. And yet on the for mer occasion a majority of thq>Senate were of a-different opinion, i One reason for the oppo sition of the majority of the Senate to the re so* lution at that time was in my opinion owing to the fact that the subject had not been called to their attention at the proper time. An instalment of the interest on the -State debt was falling due on the first day of Febrn ary, and yet that subject had been neglected until the 30th day of January, and of coarse the legislation had to be hurried through, I believed then, and believe now, that if this Senate bad properly considered that subject, a differenf result wauld have been the case. Bob what was the result ? Why, air, owing to the fact that that resolution was not carried, tha State has become indebted over what she would have otherwise owed at this time to the amount of one million and fifty-five thousand dollars, and that debt must be paid in the hard earn* ings of the people of this State, Tha Senate should, therefore, fully appreciate tha responsi bility of its vote upon the question before the body, and if by a repetition,of their coarse of the last year, Senators will increase the debt to the amount of one million and fifty-five thousand dollars more, they will be held re-> sponsible. Now, it is a matter of serious con sequence to representatives of the people oc cupying positions here, and all I desire is, that the responsibility which attaches to a question of so great importance may be fised where it properly belongs. Now why should, not the Senate act upon this resolution to-day 7 The interests of tho Commonwealth demand that it should be acted upon without delay. And why not act upon itf It is because of the allegation made by tha other side that the Senate is not organized.— Who says that we are not organized? Certain ly, sir, the southern aide of this House will have to answer for that position. Wo say that the Senate is organized, and we maintain out position by such arguments as no living man can contradict. And if this State is upon that to pay an additional million and fifty-five thou sand dollars, it cannot be charged upon this side of the House. It seems to me that if there is an interregnum, the other side ought to be able to say when it occurred. Mr. BEARDSLEE. Oa tho fifth of Jan* nary. Mr. WILSON'. What happened then, that disrobed the Speaker of his authority ? Cer* tainly on the fourth of January he was the Speaker. What event happened to disrobe him of his authority ? ' t Mr. LAMBERTON. The meeting of a nes# General Assembly. Mr. WILSON. Bnt suppose that instead of meeting at the time appointed by the Const!* tution, the General Assembly had been called together ten days previous to that time, who would then have been the Speaker ? Mr. REILLY. I ask the Senator whether in voting for Mr. Penney last year he tbonght that he was voting to elect a Speaker for ti>o present session ? Mr. WILSON. Ido not suppose that whai I thought on the subject would change hla po* sition at all; but for the information of thd Senator, (and I believe his question is put in all sincerity,) I will state that I voted at tha close of the last session for a Speaker of tho Senate who should act in bis position until hia successor was duly qualified. And so I stand yet, and am not prepared to change my mind on that subject. Now, I ask, if we had' been called together by the Governor ten days previous to the fifth of January, would the other side have preten ded that 3lr. Penney-wos not the Speaker, that a new election was necessary ? Well, sir, it is only because the Governor did not call us to l gather before that day, that we did not meet before the sth of January. The Constitution provides that in case the Governor does not call us together before that day, we will meet on that day. ' Now will Senators say that be<- cause the meeting of the General Assembly is fixed for that l particular day that a Speaker of the Senate then Jose'S his authority f Ido not believe they would. Mr. BEARDSLEE. I would like to ask th# gentleman a question. If we had mat before the sth of January, it would have bean by vir tue of a call for an extra session. Now would that extra session have extended any further than the beginning of th« new session? Mr. WILSON.. I do not understand, Mr-. Speaker, that'that would have made any sort of difference. The Senate would have been ah organized body. If the gentleman on the oth er side has any authority by which to provo that a new organisation should take place m case the Senate be called together three day# sooner than the time fixed in the I would like to see it. Mr. STEIN. I call the attention of the Senator from Tioga to sections ten and eleven of Article one of the Constitution of EannSyh vania, which I ask the Clerk to read. The Clerk read as follows: Sec. X. The General Assembly shall meet on the first Tuesday of January, in every year, unless sooner convened by the Governor. Sec. XI. Each Douse shall choose its Speak er and other officers; and the Senate shall also choose a Speaker pro iempore, whan the Speak er shall exercise the office of Governor. Mr. STIEN; That is the authority. Mr. WILSON. : We have heard refsrenaW • made to that provision befbre. by Ssnatoti R# SENATOR Wn.SON’3 SPSSCH.
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