Tie lioga Oonnty Agltator t BS" M. B. COBB. o.Mi.hai every Wednesday morning and aaihdtd bribers at ONE DOLLAR AND FiFTYCSNIS vear.nlWS IN ADVANCE. . P Tae piperiesent postage free to county subset bers, , 4 ,/ ul jy any receive their mail at post-offic ip lo in ooaaties immediately adjoining, for co E^° e "A5rriTOR is the Official paper of Tdoge-.C0., . utrcalates in every neighborhood therein. Bab 6°riptioas being on'the advance-pay system, it ( j-ca- f v -eS among a class most to the interest of adqstKsers toVeiCb. forms to advertisers as liberal as those Of fered by any paper of equal circulation in Northern Pennsylvania. . ' / - cross on the margin of a paper, denotes tbattbe subscription is about ft expire. - ;> i Papers w'.l! be stopped when the subscrlilion limeeipire*' nnless the,agent orders their eot icu «nce. ' . ' j*j_; _ JAS. LOjWREY & S'. F. WILSON, ATI’OBSfcYS & COUNSELLORS at L AW, trill attend the Courts of Tioga, Potto - and ycKesn cooatics. [Weilsboro, Jan. I, ltd I.] DICKINSON HOUSE, CORNING, N. Y'.. , • MsA A. TIELD, Proprietor. GUESTS takes to and from the.Depot itef of charge. [Jan. 1,1861.] PfItifSILTANIA HOUSE, >/ CORNER OF MAIN STREET AND THE AVENUE. WclUhoro. Pa. > j, W. BIGONY, THIS popular Hotel, having been Je-ilfted and re-farmehed throughout, is now open i** the public a* a fifst-clksa house. [Jan. 1, 1865.], D. HART’S HOTEL. WELLSBOEO, TIOGa CO. PJSNKk. ■ THE subscriber takes this method to inform his old friends and customers that he ha? re lamoi the conduct of the,old “Crystal Fountain Esiel," and will hereafter give it his entire attention. Thankful fur past favors,-ho solicits a renewal Sf the DAVID HA >T. tfellsboro, Hov. 4, X863.-ly. : IZAAK WAITOK Caines, Tioga County, Fa, jj c. VBRMILYEA, Tars is a new hotel located.within «a<y ac cess 0/ the beet fishing and hosting grinds in Sorthorn Pennsylvania. No pains will be.s; at'ed for [te accommodation of pleasure seekers end tie trav eling public. [Jan. 1, 1863.] WATCHES, CLOCKS AND JffK JEWELRY! J B st BULLARD'S & CO’S. STORE, by’tho rnb?criber. in the best manner, and at *8 low prices as the same work can be done for, by any first ratn*prac tical workman in the State. ' ;' WeUsboro. July 15, X 863. A. R. HAS-CY. ’ .A . FOLEY,' 1 ? Watches, Clocks, Jewelrv,* &Coj &C., REPAIRED AT OLD PRICES.: POST OFFICE BUILDING, KO. 5, UmON BLOCK. *. VTellsboro, May 20, ISG3. _ ■ E. K. BLACK, f BARBER & HAIR-DRESS|R, SHOP OVER C. L. 'WILCOX’S STOR^T NO. 4, UNION BLOCfe. Xfellsboro, June 24, 1863. AGRICULTURAL * IMPLEMEHT f. I WOULD inform Dealers in- Agricultural ’tJ aple ments, that I have Horse Rakes qf ap proved styles and superior quality. Also,, Hand Rakes of a better quality than auy manufaett «ed in this section, which I will furnish in any quantify de- Lred, to dealers in the. counties of JBrtf4ford, ml Lycoming. D. B» DO&D. Mainsburg, Nov. 18,1863-9mos.* • . DRUGS & MEDICIBIES. f .VO. 3, UNION BtOOKy WELISBOBO, PA. P. R. WHUAMSi BEGS leave to announce to the citizens boro and vicinity, that he keeps constaiAjy on tend all kinds of - DRUGS' AND MEDICINES, , Chemicals, Varnish, Paints, Soaps, Perfumery, 'Mass, Brashes, Putty, Fancy Goods, Pure Wines, Brandies, Urns, and all other kinks of Idqpors -of the best Quality. All kinds of * ' PATENT MEDICINES 1 neb as Jayne’s Expectorant, Alterative an I Pills j Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, Pills and Cherry. Pectoral. _Gelm bold’s Extract Buchu, Sarsaparilla and Rose 1 Mr*. Winslow's Sothing 'Syrup; 'Wright*^. \pnis; Clark’s and Cbeese'man’s Pills j Hall’s Balsa(v;Bin inger's London Dock Gin; Herrick’s Pills a® * Plas ters: Brown’s Broncbial Troches, Ac., Ac. .* May 26.1364-ly. P. R. WILLEMS. ■ REVESIE STAMPS. 1 ' JOHN M. PHELPS, Deputy Collector ■»('Mans field, has just received a large| lot of .IJevenue f'sma, of all denominations, from.one cent vtp to $5. ■ ■ v person wishing Stanps can 'get them at £s■ office la Mansfield, or of M. BULLARD, Assistant Arjesaor, stlTellsboro, Pit. J. M. PHE..PS ' Mansfield, May 2, 1864. Wheeler's Horse Powers,and Thall ers and Cleaners. THE subscriber would respectfully anncinee; to to the Threshers and Fanners of ad orning counties, that be .still continues t • ;#ell the above Lamed MACHINES, and that.l nsFo 'the pleasure of offering' this season seme valuable im provements on the old machines and a lnr«te addition to the variety. I now have for sale Railroad Horse I‘jwers for one, two, and three horses, three different tires of Wheeler's Rako Cleaners, six horsa Lever Powers. Howard's Mowers and combined Mowers and Reapers, Smith’s Green Mountain Shingle Machine* Palmer's self-sustaining Horse F6rkS| Clover Zlullcrs, Reed Cutters, Circular and i>rag .Saws, adapted .to horse powers, Horse Rakes, Ac., Ac. , All of which will be sold strictly* at the manufne tnrer's prices, adding transportation, and will bo war ranted to give entire satisfaction or no aale.* Extras f't repairing old machines kept on hand. IVM. T. MATHERS, of Wellsboro, and G. H. RASTER A CO , of’Nelson, are myt lor Tioga County, will be kept <o hand orders left for other Machinery will bc-*l Jomptly attended to. Descriptive Circulars -contains <g price hjl scut to airapplicauts. ' *B- 6. Th££RS. Troy, Pa., Jane 29 , J BC4-tf. * * ~WELTaSBORO HoT|L iOorner Main Street and (he Aye nve*)^ Wellsboro, Px. ■ E. B. HOLIDAY, Proprietor. • One of the most popular Houses in (h,£ ; founty~ Thu Hotel is the principal Stage-house in V eJlsboro. Stages leave daily as follows:. ;; For Tioga, at 9a. m. s_For Troy, at Ba. rf; t ; For •Jersey Shore every Tuesday and Friday at | n. m.; For Cuodersport, every Tuesday and Friday afrif m. Suces Arrive—Prom Tioga,iat 12 1-2 itfclock |* m *: FromJ Troy, at 6 o’clock p. m.: From Jersey khore. Tuesday and Friday 11 a. Bm'From Cou'ders- Taefday and Friday II a. m. • ' * XB.—Jimmy Cowdcn, the well-known lr * l°uod cn hand. ~'<' J , Oct. 5, -Vi HUGH young; bookseller & stationer, , AND D.EAIE-B IS ' American Clocks, American, English, at ji Swiss atchea. Jewelry, Silver Plated Ware. <S’ £ctacles, l -tare Frames, Photographic Album?, Stdi pscopes, t ‘ u T , ? 5c: 'P6Bj Perfumery, Yankee EotionSj 'Joshing and Flies, and Fancy and Toilet Art efts.. c,f] SCHOOL BOOKS ofevery Id in the -'Baty, constantly on bond and sent by mail or oth tMr*e, to order. ■ j 5, UNION BLOCK, WJSLLSBOIHi, J>A. KERORINE LAMPS »t • '-H ' ROY’S DRUG ,81 >RE. pTslr EESS W i.li 5,, fo’<Ealaai ROT'S -DRUG St^RS.' THE AGITATOR. . ~ ' _____ r f Qefchtct? ta tlie %sxttmion of the &vm of iFmhom jmh the of healths Sieform. VOL. XL seUtt iloetru. I lay upon the headland height and listened To the incessant sobbing of the sea - - ; In caverns under me, ' . And watched the waves that tossed and fled and glistened, Until the rolHng xneadows of amethyst Meltecl away in mist. -: Then suddenly, as one from sleep I started ; for round about-me all the sunny capes Seemed peopled with the shapes Of those whom I bad known in dfeys departed, Appareled with the loveliness which gleams On faces seen in dreams. • ..Pripmtor, A moment only, and the light and glory, Faded away, and the disconsolate shore Stood lonely as before; And the wild roses of the promontory Around me shuddered in the wind, and shed Their petals of pale fed. There was an old belief that in the embers Of all things their primordial form exists. And cunning alchemists Could re-create the rose witb all its members From its own ashes, but without the bloom. Without the least perfume. Ah, me! what wonder-working, occult science. Can, from the ashes of our hearts, once more the rose of youth restore? Whatcratt of alchemy can bid defiance To time and change, and for a single hour Renew this phantom-flower ? .Proprietor. “ Oh, give me back/’ I cried, *“ the-vanished splen dors, The breath of morn, and tho exultant strife, When the swift stream of Ufo Bounds o’er its rocky channel and surrenders The pond, with all its lilies, for the leap • Into the unknown deep. And tho sch answered witlr a lamentation, , Like some old prophet wailing, and it said: “ Alas ! thy youth la dead I It breathes no more; Its heart has no pulsation. In the dark places with the dead of old It lies forever cold Then said I: (t From its consecrated cerements 1 will not drag this sacred crust again, Only to give me.pain; , But, still remembering ail the lost endearments, Go on like one who looks before, And turns to weep* no more.” Info what lands of harvests, what plantations * Bright with autumnal foliage and the glow Of snnsets burning low; Beneath what midnight akjes, whoso constellations Light up the spacious avenues, between^ . This, world and tbe unseen ? Amid what friendly greetings and caresses, •' W Jat households, though not alien, yet not mine, What bowers of rest divine ; To what temptations in lone wildernesses, ' What famine of the Jo ear t, what pain and loss, The bearing of what crosa^^ I do not know,* nor will I vainly question Those pages of the mystic book which hold .. v The story still uptold, . - r . But without rash conj ectnre ‘or Suggestion ‘ ' Turnita leaves in reverence and goed-L««d, -Until. “ The End” I read. . ' PROFESSOR HALSTEAD’S GIRL. A crotchety and contrary old chap was Joel Shellenbargcr. a rich old former, as mulish as the donkeys in his barn. He had made his way in the world by the doggedest obstinacy— seizing hold of whatever came in his way, and retaining that hold as though life depended upon it. - Joel’s mulisbneae bad literally been the making of him, though you mightn’t have considered the little pot-bellied, thick-skulled old man much of a make after all. Joel bad one eon—a handsome, clear-headed, active young man —fall, straight as a young larch, and Joel himself. This eon, as he "rew up, had proved a great assistance to bis father in-working the farm, and his services had been made the most of, the old man managing to keep hiqi-at home with him some time after be ought to haje been doing for himself. Not an acre of the father’s possessions was ever called the. son’s ; he owned nothing in the world save a horse which some neighbor had given him when it was a sickly colt, and some sheep ob tained in much the same manner ; and the old man grndged him the'keeping of these.. Joel Shellenbnrger and his sou Anson differ ,ed often, hot there were two points on which the difference amounted to something serious. The firtt point concerned education, for which the old man bad a profound contempt—and .the son had not. There was a college some dozen miles from the Shelleabarger farm, and-thither —having thoroughly prepared himrclf, in spite of a fatherly thwarting and opposition—Anson betook himself,'in spite of the same opposi tion, and by one contrivance and another, and helped* ont by bis mother’s small marketing, kept himself there till he graduated. Joel Sbellcnbarger contested the ground inch by inch, bnt afraid, in his selfishness, to do any thing more than be obstinate, lest his son should leave him. That was the first point of difference, and that was how Ansen settled it. The second was not likely to bo of so easy an arrangement. At college Anson, hadfound something ..Be sides graduating honors. He had chanced up on a very charming combination of brown curls and azure eyes—a red-lipped, dimpled cheeked fairy, daughter of one of the profess ors, who .instead - of, curving her dainty lip at the homespun, suit which his poverty and his father’s niggardliness compelled him to wear, never-seemed io be conscious of any thing or any body else when he was by. In short, Anson had found somebody to love somebody ho wanted to marry, as he gravely informed his father. Yon should have seep the old man’s eyes ; it was a mercy they were fast in their sockets! Here was a gratitude! This Anson, having already defrauded bis old father of so much of his lime, was going now to set upon his' absurdity and disobe dience by marrying a “town girl!” Bad enough to marry any one, seeing bis father wasn't through with him yel—but a town girl 1 He should never consent, and every Shellen batger acre should go to a stranger before An son should have hue, if ho persisted in an idea so ridiculous I “ And pray,what harm is there in being a town girl i” . questioned Barbie Halstead, when Anson told her, half-laughing, half-vexed, and altogether .rueful—for ' without, os sis- WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WEIiING UNEIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN'S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE PALINGENESIS BY. H. V|'. LONGFELLOW. Jftcatellang. WELLSBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., WELNESMI MORNING, NOVEMBER 9, 1864. tanee from his father he could not marry Bar barie for a long time yet. Anson laughed again, but with some embar aesment, saying, “my.father is afraid that a daughter of Professor Halstead would not make a very good farmer’s wife.” “Does he'think—?” Barbie hesitated, look ing with smiling perplexity at her little white hands. .. “ That these pretty bands don’t know much about brewing and baking, etc.? Exactly; I believe he thinks- just that.” “ Then be thinks wrong,” said' Barbie, red dening, and looking up at her lover with a comical little pout. Didn’t r l bear you say you needed a servant at .home? I’ve a mind to go do down and offer fot- the place.” Anson laughed again, enjoyingly. “We need one badly enough, but father will not suffer one inside the house." “ Why, how do you lire then f Who cooks for you. now that yonr mother is ill f” “We do our own cooking," Anson said, with a retnrn of the half-smiling half-embar aesed expression. “We cook for ourselves, or do without." The very, day succeeding to the one which witnessed the conversation Anson was at home busying himself over some culinary, operation when the door, which stood ajar, was noise lessly pushed wide, and a attired form presented itself on the threshold. It wore a green plaid dress, the cheeks very large, a yellow shawl, and a very frowsy and tumbled looking bonnet. A red feather, nearly as long as Anson’s arm, streamed from one side, and within the brim flopped the immense frill of a cap which clung close around the fake of the stranger. The face—what could be seen of it —was a very curious one to be inside of such a bonnet and cap. Just now, as she surveyed the kitchen and Anson—herself still unseen— the muscles about her month twitched nervous ly, and her eyes twinkled with roguish bright ness. Presently Anson looked that way. Instantly the face took lagubrious length ; and coming into the room the girl said, insin uatingly, but without looking at him. “ An’ would yo be after hirin’ a servant the day ?” and stood fidgeting with the fringe of her shawl. “ I believe not,” said Anson, coloring with some annoyance, perhaps, at the nature of his. employment. ‘ "i “ Shure, Sir, an’ the lady that aint me—God' blees her swate eyes I—said you’d be sure to take me on her. recomendation, which I has in my pocket—and here ’tis now." She gavd him a little note, which proved to be from Barbie Halstead. Anson read it with very lover-like carefulnes, but shook his head. ‘‘l’m very sorry my good girl, but we do not wish to hire a servant." “ Belike your father mayn’t object when he sees me,” the girl persisted. Anson looked at the soiled white bonnet and the red feather, and repressed a smile, won deringw whet bis father would say.' But he was too kindly a nature to be willing to expose even this-gervant to his father’s rough; manner. — He repeated what be had said before,- assuring her that it would be of no use to see hi* father. Tbe. girl etood a moment—“ If ye plaze, Sur, I’ll just see him a moment. Belike he may take a likin’ to the look o’ me.” And before be could reply she bad crossed the' room, and stood upon the threshold of the next. Anson followed presently, curious to see what sort o'f a reception she would get. “ Sbure an I'll do plinfy more'n I’m worth to yees,” she was saying with innocent empha sis as Anson entered. She talked rapidly, pouriftg out snch a torrent of words that the old man could not by any possibility slip one in among them, and sat re garding her with an expression of the most lu dicrous astonishment. This remarkdble volobity completely baffled the old man’s slowness. He could not say a word if be wished to,; and when she-concluded at last with “ I kin make Bap-jacks and - corn bread that’d bring the very eyes out iv yef head, and make ye swally yer tongue with de litiousness” (if he had a weakness it was for flapjacks and corn bread,) he could only twirl bis thumbs in-a sort of delicious awe, and ask her with a canning smile how much she expec ted." to git for doin’ all them things.” “ Seventy-five cents a week,” was the prompt reply. f • ■ With a still more cunning laugh Joel offer ed hgr half the money. Greatly to his amazement she agreed at once, and he found himself, to use his own expres sion, “in for it.” To add to his chagrin, An son stood by laughing with intense enjoyment. But the girl without further ado,-proceeded to dismember herself of bonnet and shawl, and vanished in the direction of the kitchen before anything more could bo said. - As she shut the door she stole a glance at Anson that made him start and bite his lips, and presently he strolled kitchenward also.— She’was already at -work, handling the broom like an adept, and grumbling in her rich brogue at the dust that had accumulated in the cor ners; for the extent of Anson’s and his father’s sweeping had been to brush the centre of-the room, somewhat to the disadvantage of the rest; ■ ‘ / Sbe did not look np as Anson entered, hat he feat down, and - deliberately, but furtively, watched her. For some time she seemed un conscious of his scrutiny ; but presently she turned, end clasping both little hands upon the top of the broom-handle, said, with a mix ture of bravado and archness too natural to be mistaken. “ "Well, Anson, what do you think?” The young man laughed and looked annoyed in the same breath. " Then, it in you. Barbie ?’’ he said. “ I was suspecting something of this sort." i “ Not till I looked at you.” said the girl, ro guishly, retreating as he approached. “Do you think this.is quite the thine. Bar bie?" “ Shore an’ why ain’t it the thing for a .poor girl to be giftin’ her linn' decently and bon .estly?” And fhat was .all he qoald get out of her.— Having acknowledged her identity with Barbie for an instant.she was a moat unaproachable “Biddy” the next, and would have nothing to say to him save in that character. “ Does your father know of this, Barbie?— what would be say ?” persevered Anson, anx iously. Sure an’ it’s not me own fader would be interferin’ wid me, would he 1” said Biddy. In vain were all remonstrances, with the ro guiahi and wilful girl. She persisted in being Biddy even to him, and maintained a distance between tb#m very different from that between hiip and Barbie in her own proper self. Annoyed,, provoked, chagrined, almost an gr,J, the advent of his father forced him to re tire from the kitchen, for fear of betraying Barbie’s secret, which he would not have done for a great deal. It was several boors before he could return to the boose, his father haying joined him, and, upon one pretext and another, detained him.— When at last they entered together, kitchen and sitting-room—both which bad been in a most untidy state when they left them —had undergone each a remarkably renovating pro cess that old Joel drew bach at first, thinking he had set foot in somebody else’s house in stead of his own. Supper was smoking on the table—such a supper as old Joel, at least, had not seen in months. To crown all, Mrs. Shel lenbarger. was sitting, propped with pillows, in a great easy chair, and looking wondrously contented, and with reason : the poor lady bad not had a woman’s hand about her before since her illness. They lived in such an isolated, inhospitable manner that-very few of their neighbors even knew that Mrs. Shellenbarger was nut as well as usual. Biddy—as she called herself—had tidied the poor lady up in a won derful manner. Joel Shellenbarger sat down to the dainty spread table, and made a most hearty and keenly-relished meal, glancing askance at Bid dy meanwhile.- Anson, strange to say, ate very little, and he watched Biddy askance too. . The was only the ; beginning of the reforms this daring girl instituted. First, however, as much, perhaps, for her own peace of mind as Anson’s—knowing that mother and son were fast friends and always of one opinion—she told her secret to Mrs. Shel lenbarger, and fairly wheedled the good lady into approval. It is trne that she shook her bead at first, and looked wondrously shocked. But it was so charming to have those little soft bands flut tering about her, and to see snch brightness and comfort Springing np around, that she could not, for her' own sake, help countenan cing, as much as silence could, Biddy’s myste rious" presence. I haven't time to give you all particulars, hut having made so good a beginning, with true Irish facility, Biddy established herself in a very short time completely in the good graces of the old gentleman. He .bad a lurking liking for neatness and or der, and Mrs. Shellenbarger—poor lady 1— wasn’t a very tidy housekeeper. Under the new reign order grew out of chaos ; the house seemed in, holiday garb all the time, and an at mosphere of social cheerfulness pervaded every thing. One morning—Biddy bad said something about leaving the day before—the old man end ed a grumbling complaint of Anson with, “ I never see no good come of eddication yet. If it hadn’t ’a bin for that college business you might might have' taken a liking to a sensible girl, and she to yon.” ' He glanced at Biddy as he spoke. She turned scarlet, and came near dropping the dish she was bolding. It was not.the first time Anson had heard such insinuations, and he rather en joyed Biddy's trepidation. “ See here, father,’’, he said roguishly: “just yon pick me out a wfe, and see what will come of it.” “ The only, girl I know of worth having wouldn’t have you —would yon, Biddy ?” Joel said, grumblingly, but suddenly turning to the girl. . Anson was smiling maliciously. Bridget O’Flynn had kept Barbie’s lover at a most tan talizing and unrelenting distance all this .time. He was taking hia revenge now. <■ Making a desperate effort, Biddy rallied.her confused senses to say, with considerable self possession. “ Shore, Sor, an’ it isn’t mesilf that’ll be afther bavin’ ony mon till I’m asked.” “ Biddy, will yon marry me ?” said Anson, gravely extending his band. • p “I will that,now,” said Biddy, promptly patting her hand in his, while old Joel came near choking with amazement. It was too, late to recede, however, whether be had really wished such a thing or not, as they soon made him understand. He went out of doors presently, and privately pinched him self to ascertain if he were in his senses or not. Seeing the two standing by the window in close conversation soon after, he crept with the same laudable intention toward them, under cover of the bushes that grew by the house. “ Now, Barbie,” Anson was saying, la'ugh ingly, “ What is to be done next? I must say you’ve managed wonderfully so far; but what do you suppose he’ll say when be knows you’r not Biddy at all ?” “ Not Biddy at all 1” screamed Joel Shellen barger, struck with a sudden suspicion of be knew not what, as he started out of his covert, -i There stood Biddy, the white frill of her close cap as immense as ever. She laughed, though, when she saw him, and deliberately taking off her cap shook her bright curls all about her face, and reaching toward him her little hand, said, archly, “ Share, Sir, an’ ye won’t be afther hatin’ a poor girl because her name’s Barbie Halsted instead of Biddy o’- Flynn 1”» “ You—you Professor Halstead’s girl ?” “ Professor Halstead is my father, Sir,” said ' Barbie, in her natural tones. ! “What’s that?’’ Barbie repeated it. “ And yon’re not Irish ?” ~ “ Niver a bit!” The Old man stood a moment, clouds gather ing-in bis face. ■ ■ '■■■(’ “ Well, Anson,” he said, rather surlily, “ you outwitted me again—much good may it do you. You’d better get out the horses now, and take Halstead’s girl home. He must want to see her by this time.’’ “ Yes, Sir.” And Anson colored with min gled anger and amusement. Barbie did not change countenance, however. Extending that pretty hand of hers again, she said, sweetly, “ You’ll shake hands with mo. Sir?” Joe Shellenbarger turned back and gave his hand awkwardly. The girl took it in both hers, bending her bright arch face toward him, and saying, “ I shall come back some time, Sir. Will yon be glad to see mo ?” Joel hemmed and hawed, and stammered out at last, “Yes, yes; come back, Biddy—l mean Miss O’Flynn—l mean Miss—” • “ Barbie,” suggested the girl, quietly. “ Yes, come back ; and the sooner the bet ter. There, Anson, make the most on’t 1” Barbie did come back, in a few weeks, too, and nobody was gladder than old Joel, though he was a little shy at first of Professor Hal stead’s girl. She soon made him forget, how ever, every thing save that she was Anson's wife ; and the way he humored the sly puss to sundry grant* of moneys and repairs, refur nishing, etc., I couldn’t begin to tell you. But I’d like you to see the Shellenbarger place since Barbie has gone there to live. The Deacon’s Bulk Beacon Joseph Jones, of Litchfield, Conn., was a fine specimen of the. old style sturdy farmer, honest, conscientious, and hospitable to a fault, and with one leading vanity, which was his ability to raise the finest stock in the whole of New England. . In his younger days the deacon bad command of a company of State troops, which bad done service during the last war with Great Britain, and though he bad failed, in the technical application of the terra, “ to smell gunpowder,” yet he had received the infusion of-a warlike spirit, and earned the title of “ captain,” which, on the principle of “ once a captain always a captain,” stuck to him,|and mingled with the more peaceful cog nomen of the deacon. - The warlike spirit the deacon could never oonqner/even though he had been frequently rebaked by the good dominie for showing so mncb of the church militant in bis daily bear ing ; and be could find no greater delight, when he could obtain an audience, than in recalling tbe days of his captaincy and telling bloodless tales of “ when I was out in ’l3 and '14.” Among the deacon’s fine stock was a bull, a splendid animal, which for strength, size, and beauty, excited the envy and admiration of the. whole country. So much was the deacon’s cun prized, that very soou Us owner began to think that he possessed the most wonderful animal that ever existed, and to boast accord ingly. From morning to night nothing could be heard in the neighborhood of Litchfield but praises of tbe deacon's bull, and estimations of its value. At last to such a pitch did this esti mation rpacb, that the deacon, not content with •bearing tjhe palm from every cattle raiser in the country, sought, like Alexander, fresh worlds to conquer, and offered his bull to the competition of the entire country. To do this properly, deacon Joseph issued a handbill, set ting forth in glowing lines the qualities of his bull, its size, age, weight, and • color, leading off with a challenge to any one' possessing an animal of like size and age, to vanquish the dea con’s in a fair fight for one hundred dollars.— Here it was that the old warlike spirit peeped forth, and. the ‘deacon) instead of offering to match his bull for any of those qualities that go toward making good beef, proffered the chal lenge for its fighting quality. These handbills were scattered far and wide by the aid of a peripatetic peddler, and one of them found, its way to the hands of a noted breeder of stock in the western part of the State, who determined on accepting the chal lenge on behalf of the fine young animal of his own, and making an attempt to fob the dea con’s one hundred dollars. Accordingly he started with his bull for the deacon’s, but by some delays on the road he did not reach hia destination until late on Saturday afternoon. Upon his stating his errand he was warmly welcomed by the deacon and honest praise be stowed npotKlbe splendid animal he bad bro’t with him. It was too late that evening for tbe trial, and the bull was accordingly driven into the rich pastures to recruit after the journey, and his owner made free to the deacon's home. The next day being the Sabbath, the family all set forth to church, the deacon surrendering bis plape in the family pew to the stranger, and staying at home under the plea of not feeling well. After they were well gone, the deacon, to aid in dismissing the thought of the two bulls, and of the coming fight on the morrow, got down the family bible and read a chapter; but still the bulls would mix themselves with the texts, and wander away with his thoughts. At last the deacon could stand it no longer, and patting on his hat, out he went to take one look at the fierce monster that was on the mor row to carry the laurels from his bull, and the hundred dollars, or leave him the happy victor. There he stood in the centre of the field, coal black, and shaking his fierce shaggy head in de fiance. The deacon gazed in admiration and the thought crept into his brain that to-morrow was a long time to wait and that there was no body to see and no one to tell tales, he might as well give the bulls just one little turn at each other that he might be better able to judge, and if the contest waxed too warm he pould drive off his own animal without trouble. No sooner thought than done, and the deacon stealthily let down the bars that led into the field and proceeded to drive his bull, but the’ strange bull in an instant saw the entrance open, anq without delay, rushedr through and in quicker time than it takes to tell it, tackled the deacon’s bull. The fight was terrible, and the deacon de lighted. For a while he forgot his Sabbath breaking in the keen enjoyment of the fight, and the belief that his bull would be the vic tor; but at length the stranger began to have the best of it, and the deacon, fearing the dc feat-of his favorite, took a band in the fight Rates of Advertising. Advertisements will be charged $1 per square of It lines, one or three insertion:, and 25 cents for every subsequent insertion. Advertisements of lees thus 10 lines considered as a square. The subjoined rate* will be charged forQuarterly,Half-Tcarly and Yearly advertisements: 3 aosrns. 6 months. 12 nosing 1 Square, $4,00 $5,75 $7,50 2 do 6,00 8,25 10,00 ? „ do 8,75 10,75 12,30 - i Column, 10,00 12,00 15,75 4 do 18,75 26,00 31,50 1 do. 30,00 43,00 30,00 Advertisements not having the number of inser tions desired marked upon them, will be published until ordered out and charged accordingly, • - Posters, Handbills, Bill-Heads, Letter-Heads, and all kinds of Jobbing done in country establishment*, executed neatly and promptly. and other BLANKS, constantly on hand. 1 NO. *l2. himself. He tore a rail from the fence and rushed at the black bftll, punching him in the rear, and striving to drive him hack to his pas ture. The attack instead of attaining its ob ject only increased the animal’s rage, until with one fierce lunge he laid bis antagonist on the ground, pierced him through the cheat with one thrust of his sharp horns, and laid him dead in an instant. No sooner had he finished his work in front than, like a good soldier, he made for the en emy in the rear; and the deacon made for the opening in the fence with the bellowing monster close at his heels. .Away they went* deacon and bull, straight for the house, the first puffing and blowing un der his fearful speed, and last pawing and bel lowing in a manner to strike terror into firmer hearts than that of the deacon. It was a ter rible race; hut tba deacon won it by a few yards, just slamming the door of tbe house in the face of the bull, and rushing to the kitchen for safety. In a moment he beard with terror the blow’of the monster’s head upon the door j a second thump and down it went, admitting him to the hall. , , ' The doot of the parlor stood open, and upon the wall opposite was a largo mirror, the pride of the deacon’s wife and daughter, and the choice piece of their household goods. The bull did not waste time, but seeing his image’ in the glass, made one rush, scattering the glass in minute particles, and shaking the house with the crash. By this time the deacon began to recover hie wind and his presence of mind and think of a loaded gun hanging over the : mantlepiece in the kichen. Rendered desperate he clutch ed the weapon and rnahed to the door of the parlor. The ball spied him instantly and made a rush—his last—for almost running the muzzle of his gun into his bead, the deacon fired, and a dead bull blocked up the hall, del uging the floor with blood just as the family presented themselves at the door on their rel - from church. The consternation of all may be imagined and the deacon bad nothing for it hot to make a clean breast and confess bis Sabbath break ing, pay the stranger for his bull, band over the hundred dollars, and good resolutions about bull fighting for the fatare. The Mother’s Influence. — A mother on the Green hills of Vermont, stood at her gar den gate, holding by her right hand a son of sixteen years old, mad with love of the sea.—• “ Edward," said she, “ they tell me that the great temptation of the seaman’s life, is drink. Promise me, before you qnit your moth er’s hand, that you will never drink." Said he, for he told me the story, “ I gave her the promise. ( . I went the .broad globe over ; Cal cutta, the Mediterranean, San Francisco, the Cape of Good Hope, and during forty years, whenever 1 saw a glass* filled with the spar kling liquor, my mother’s form by the garden gate, on the hillside of Vermont, rose up before me ; and to-day, at sixty, my lips are inno cent of the taste of liquor." Was not that sweet evidence of the power of a single word? And yet it was but half; •' for” said he, “ yes terday, there came into my connting-room a man of forty, and asked me, * Do you know me?’ ‘No,’ said I, ‘I was brought once,' said he to my informant, ‘ drunk, into your presence, on ship-board ; you were a passenger, the captain kicked me aside; you took me in to your berth, kept me there until I -bad slept o’ff my intoxication, and then yon asked me if I had a mother. I said never, that I knew of; I never heard-a mother's voice. Yon told me of yours, at the garden gate;' and to-day, twenty years later I am master of one of the finest psekest in New York, and I earns to ask you to come and see ine." How far back that little candle threw its beam—the mother’s word on the green hillside of Vermont! God be thanked for the almighty power of a single word. The Past. —Whatsoever the Fa tare may have in reserve for us, the dear, familiar Past, with which we have grown lovingly intimate, can never be restored ; and therefore, we can not fail to feel regret as we see it receding from, our view, how bright soever may be the prospect the coming years spread ont before the mind’s eye.. The scenes through which.we are) henceforth to pass may be more- lovely than those to which we are bidding adieu ; bnt they possess not, as yet, the charms of old associa tion ; and until they have won this endearing characteristic, they may fascinate the eye, tat cannot toaeh the heart. And how utterly vain it is to attempt to reproduce th<j Past 1 We may, in oor hopeless longing, gather again the self-same persons in the old, familiar scenes, but yet how hollow and unsatisfactory is the result. Wo have changed; they have changed; outward nature has changed; the very trees and dowers are no longer exactly as they were. And though apart the alteration may not be so perceptible yet bring once more together these various component parts of the former stratum, of life, and we And that they never agglomer ate as of old. No. No skill, or magic can re produce the Past. J j The Letter N.—la it to wondered at, after examining the list of the signers of the Dec laration of Independence, and finding there the names of Baldwin, Dayton, Dickinson, Franklin, Gilman, Hamilton, Johnson, Lang don, Livingston, Madison, Mifflin, Patterson and Wilson ; and then, turning to the Consti tution, and reading there the names of Brax ton, Franklin, Hopkinson, Huntingdon, Har rison, Jefferson, Livingston, Morton, Middle ton McKean, Nelson, Henn, Sherman, Stock tan, Thornton, Walton, Wilson, and Wither spoon ; and then looking at tho names of those who have filled the Presidential embra cing Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Jackson, Van Buren, Harrison, Buchanan and Lincoln, that the contest should now be between Lin coln and Johnson on tho one side, an McClel lan and Pendleton on the other. • A man who was imprisoned for bigamy com plained that he bad been: severely dealt with for an offence: which carries its own punish ment. , ,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers