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. , ,