The Potter journal. (Coudersport, Pa.) 1857-1872, June 11, 1857, Image 1

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Thos. S. i'hatic,
To whom all Letters and Communications
should be addressed, to secure attention.
Terms— Invariably in Advance :
51.2" per Annum.
llt pi l twiiHniuMiimiiiiiinninnmiinmiiiiiiimiunnnua
Terms of Advertising.
1 Square [lO lines] 1 insertion, - - - 50
1 " " 3 " - - - $1 GO
Each subsequent insertion less thap 13, 25
1 Square three months, ------- 250
J " six " ------- 4 00
1 " nine " ....... 550
I " one year, - 6 00
.Rule and figure work, per sq., 3 ins. 3 00
ugvery subsequent insertion, ----- 50
X Column six months, ------- 18 00
* " 10 00
| " 700
1 " per year, ..... 30 00
£ " " " 16 00
Administrator's or Executor's Notice, 200
Auditor's Notices, each, ----- -- 150
Sheriff's Sales, per tract, ------ 150
Marriage Notices, each, ----- -- 100
Business or Professional Cards, each,
not excelling 8 lines, per year, - - 500
Special and Editorial Notices, per line, 10
fig?' - All transient advertisements most be
paid in advance, and no notice will be taken
uf advertisements front a distance, unless tbey
are accompanied by the money or satisfactory
Coudersport, Pa., will attend the several
Courts in Potter and M'Kean Counties. All
business entrusted in his care will receive
prompt attention. Office on Main st., oppo
site the Court House. 10:1
ATTORNEY AT LAW, Coudersport, Pa., will.
regularly attend the Courts in Potter and '
tho adjoining Counties. 10:1
Coudersport, Pa., will attend to all business I
entrusted to his care, with promptnes and
fidelity. Office in Temperance Block, sec
ond floor. Main St. 10:1
ATTORNEY AT LAW. Coudersport, Pa., will
attend to all business entrusted to him, with
care and promptness. Office corner of West
and Third sts. 10:1
ATTORNEY AT LAW. Wellsboro". Tioga Co..
Pa., will attend the Courts in Potter and
M'Kean Counties. 9:13
" XlXconeT"
ATTORNEY AT LAW, Wellsl>oro', Tioga Co..
Pa., will regularly attend the Courts of
Potter County. 9:13
Mond P. 0., (Allegany Tp.,) Bolter Co., Pa !
will attend to all business m his line, v. i u
fare and dispatch. 9: M
~W. K. KING,
ANCER. Smethport, M'Kean Co.. Pa.. w:L '
attend to business for non-resident lan i- j
holders, upon reasonable terms. Ucfereu-1
.ccs given if required. P. S.—Maps of am I
part of the County made to order. 9:13 j
respectfully informs the citizens of the vil- 1
lage and vicinity that he will promplv re-j
fcpond to all calls for professional services, i
Office on Main st., in building formerly oc- ]
cupied by C. W. Ellis, Esq. 9:22
Hardware, Bo ts & Shoes, Groceries and j
Provision, Mairj st.., Coudersport, Pa.
Oils, Fancy Articles, Stationery, Dry Goods, j
Groceries, Ac., Main St., Coudersport, Pa.
10:1 !
* lothing. Crockery, Groceries, &c., Ma.n st..
Coudersport, Pa. * 10:1 .
AMINES and Music, N. W. corner of Main!
and Third st., Coudersport, Pa. 10:1 ;
lEU 6LLER, Coudersport, Pa., having engag- j
a window iu ScUoomaker <K Jack-ou's I
hiore will cajry on tiie Watch and Jewelry
nsiness there. A fine, assortment of Jew- 1
*'7 constantly on hand- Watches and
®wtiry carefully repaired, in the best style.!
00 the shortest notice—all work warranted. ■
• tRK, Maip St.. nearly opposite the Court I
°n<e. Coudersport, Pa. Tin and Sheet !
f on Ware made to order, in good styla, on
Jhort notice. 10-1
LLASSMIRE, Proprietor, Corner of
. a 'f, atl, l Second Streets, Coudersport, Pot-
1 9: 44
p' I*EL l * EL M. MILLS, Proprietor, Colesburg,
-ter Co., Pa., seven miles north of Cou-
s port, on the Wellsville Road. 9;44
Jblwfrti Jfartrtj;.
The autumn sky is bright and fair,
Of sapphire blaze and golden light;
Dim, pearly clouds are floating there.
Like angels' dreamy robes of white.
The lofty tree-tops, crowned with gold,
Emit beueatk translucent light ;
While ruby garlands, climbing bold,
Suspend their gems at arrowy height.
Th' aspiring vines are ->odding proud,
Their serpent coils the forest bind ;
And grapes in purple clusters crowd,
Th' aroma scattered on the wind.
The forest birds—a gleesome throng—
All joyous fly from spray to spray ;
Descending like a silvery song.
The limpid wave pursues its way.
And scattered o'er the gorgeous wood,
Are autumn's glorious fairy bowers—
With Jewelled Cup. and Cardinal's Hood,
And Asters' white and purple showers:
The Salidago's golden smile,
The deadly Nightshade's gorgeous dye ;
While ever round them float the while.
The humming-bird and butterfly.
Th' elixir breath of ambient air,
Inspires and thrills my feelings so,
I scarce can beauty's burden bear—
Pleasure '? akin to woe !
My heart is all with joy o'erprcssed,
The load weighs down my spirit so :
I own 'tis not in darkest hours
We feel a load like woe.
iMcctfti &ak |
Clyarices and Changes.
"I say, Mr. Conductor, when will thej
next express train go out to St. Louis ?" j
"Eleven o'clock and thirty minutes, j
to-night, sir," was the gentlemanly reply!
to the rough question.
"Eleven o'clock and thirty minutes ! j
(TO to Texas! V.'hy, it's ten this very
minute. I'll bet my, boots against a jack
knife the morning express is off."
'•Yes, sir. it has been gone half an hour." ;
"Why in natur' didn't you get us here ,
sooner? Fourteen hours in Chicager is!
enough to break a fellow all to smash. —
• i
Fourteen hours iu Chicager, puffing and
ulowing ! I've been told they keep a rcg six-hundred boss steam power all the!,
wiiiie a ruuiitu :. to blow themselves up'
with, ami pica the pockets of every trav
eller to pay the firemen and engineers!
Wal, 1 guess 1 can stand it; I've atwen.-
ty that's never been broke, and I guess j
that will put me through. Why didn't
you fire up, old brag—give your old boss;
another peek of oats ? I toll ye, this four
teen hours will knock my calculations all
into the middle of next week."
"Very sorry, sir—we've done our best;
; but as we are not clerks of the weather, I j
' hope you will not lay your misfortunes to
! our account. Snow-drifts andthether-j
i mometer sixteen below zero, arc enemies;
we can't readily overcome."
"That's a fact," said the first speaker,
! with broad emphasis, and a good-natured, j
■ forgiving smile, "Fourteen hours in
i Chicager i"
The stentorian voice, sounding like a
trumpet had aroused every sleeper from
elysian dreams into which he might have
fallen after his long, tedious, cold night's
i travel. Every head was turned, every
! eye was fixed on the man who had bro
ken tho silence, lie was standing by
1 the stove warming his boots. To have
'warmed his feet through such a mass of
cowhide and sole-leather would have been
a fourteen hour's operation, t Six feet
| four or five inches he stood in those boots, j
with shoulders (eased iu a fir coat, that
looked more like bearing up a world than
1 vuu will meet ordinarily in half a lifetime.
r ' •
, His head Websterian, his shaggy hair
; black as jet, his whiskers to match, his
dark piercing eye, and his jaws eternally
moving, with a quid between them, while
a smile of cheerful good humor, notwith
j standing his seeming impatience, attruet
; ed every one's attention.
"Fourteen hours in Chicager, eh?—
YVul, I can stand it if the rest can; if
twenty dollars won't carry me through,
I'll b>rry of my friends. I've got the
things that'll bring 'em."
And he thrust a hand a little less in
(seboied to tije I?n>)eipies of Jhjc Qi)b % Sfcetyiiftfioii} of fgofylifij, JLifetytyie wb ftetos.
size thau a common spade down into the
cavernous depths of a broad-striped, flashy
pair of pants, and brought up that great
red hand, as full as it could hold, of shin
ing twenty dollar gold pieces.
"Don't yer think I can stand these ere
Chicrgers for one fourteen hours ?"
A nod of asseut from three or four,
and a smile of curiosity from the rest, an
swered his question in the affirmative.
"You must have been in luck, stran
ger," said an envious looking little man.
"You've more than your share of gold."
"I have, eh ? Well I reckon not. I
came honestly by it. That's a fact. And
there's them living who can remember !
this child when he went round the prai-1
ries trapping prairie hens and the like, to
get- him a night's lodging, or a pair of j
shoes, to keep the massasaugers from bit-'
ing my toes; I've hung myself up more
nor one night iu the timber, to keep out !
of the ways of the wild varmints; best
sleeping in the world, in the crotch of a
tree-top! Now, I reckon you wouldn't
believe it, but I've gone all winter with-'
out a shoe to my foot; and lived on wild
game, when I could ketch it. That's a
"Didn't stunt your growth," said a voice
"Not a it. It brought me up
right. These prairies are wonderful
roomy. I thought one spell I would let
myself out entirely, but me and mother
held a corcus, and decided that she was
getting old, and blind like, and it tuk too
I long, and cost too much to sew up the
legs of my trousers, and so I put a stop to
it, and concluded that six foot Ave would
do for a fellow that couldn't afford the
expensive luxury of a wife to make,
breeches for him. It was only love for j
my mother that stopped mv growth. If
I'd hud luid au idea of a sowing machine,!
there's no telling what I might a done.'";
"You have so many gold pieces in your
pocket, you can afford to get your trou
sers made now. Why don't you and '
your mother hold another caucus, and see ; !
what you can do ? If she would let you
expand yourself, you mi gin sell out to
Barnum, and make a fortune travelling!
with Tom Thumb, and take tho old wo-! ;
man uloim.
"Stranger," said the rough, great man. j
and his whole face loomed up with a min-j 1
gled expression of pain and pride ; "stran- 1
ger, I spoke a word here I didn't mean :
to; a slighty word, like, about my moth
er. i would give all the gold in my pock
et to bring her hue it for one hour, to look
upon tiii.s county jus it is now. She had ;
her cabin here when Chicager was no
where ; here she raised her boys—she
couldn't give them lurnin', but she taught
us better things than books can give: to
be honest, and useful, and industrious.—
She taught us to be faithful and true; to i
stand by a friend, and be generous to an
enemy. It's thirty years, stranger, since
we dug her grave by the lake side with
lour own hands; and with many a tear■ i
and sob turned ourselves away from the
; cabin where we had been raised—the In
dians had killed our father long before,
and we'd nothing to keep us —and so we
went to seek our fortunes. My brother,
he took down to St. Louis, and got mar
ried down there som'ers; and I just went
where the wind blowed, and when I'd
scraped money enough together, I came
back and bought a few acres of land;
;around my mother's old cabin, for the:
place where I'd laid her bones was sacred,
like, Wal, in the course of time it turn-;
ed up right iu the middle of Chicager.—
I couldn't stand that—l loved my old
mother too well to let the omnibuses rat
tle over her grave, so I oomc back about
fifteen years ago, and quietly moved her
away to the buryin' ground; and then 1
went back to Texas, and wrote to an agent
arterward to sell my land. What cost
a few hundred to begin on, I sold for over
forty thousand —if I'd a kept it till now,
'twould a been worth ten times that—but
I trot enough for't. I soon turned that
a ~
forty thousand into eighty thousand, and
that into twice as much, and so on, till I
don't know nor don't care what I'm worth.
I work hard, am the same rough custom
er; remember every day of my life what
my mother taught me; never drink nor
fight; wish I didn't swear and chaw; but ■
I them's got to be kind o' second natur' like, i
ana the only thing troubles me is my inon-'
: e y —hadn't got no wife nor children, and
I'm going now to hunt up my brother
and his folks. If his boys is clever and
industrious, and ain't ashamed of my big
boots and old fashioned ways, and his
gals is young women and not ladies; if
they help their mother, and don't put on
mor'n two frocks a day, I'd make 'cm rich,
every one on 'em.
"Now, gentlemen, 'taint often I'm led
jto tell on myself, after this fashion. But
I these old places, where I trapped when I
1 was a boy, made me feel like a chrld agin
! —and I just feel like tellin' these young-j
| sters here about the changes and chances j
a feller may meet in life, if he only tries j
to make the most of himself.
"But, boys," said he, turning to a par-!
ty of young men, "there's something bet
ter than money, (ret education. Why,'
boys, if I had as much larnia' as money,
I could be President in 1857 just e-a-s-y.
Why, I could buy up half the North, and
not miss it out of my pile. But get lar
| niu'; don't chaw tobacco; don't take to
liquor; don't swear, and mind your moth
ers—that's the advice of a real live Suck
jer; and if you mind what I say you may
i be men (and it aint every feller that wears
a goatee and breeches that's a man, by a
long ways). Foiler out her councils; nev
er do a thing that will make you ashamed |
to meet her in Heaven. Why, boys, I;
never done a bad thing but I heard any
mother's voice reprovin' me; and I never
done a good thing and made a good move, 1
but I've seemed to hear her say, 'that's;
right, Jack,' and that has been the best j
of all. Nothin' like a mother, boys— j
nothiu' like a mother."
All this had passed while waiting to
wood, just out of Chicago. The great :
man was swelling with emotions called up
from the dark shadows of the past; his i
big rough frame heaved like a great bil- i
low upon the ocean. Tears sprung to his <
deep set and earnest eyes—-they welled S
up to the brim—and swam round asking h
to be let fall as tributes to his mother's q
memory —tributes to the love of the past, i
But he choked them down, and humming']
. i
a snatch of an old ballad, he thrust liis i •
hands down into his pockets, walked back i
to the end of the car, pulled the gigantic j
collar of his shaggy coat up around his
ears, buttoned it close, and leaned back
against the window in silence. !<
The cars rattled on. What a mind
was t here ; what a giant intellect, sleeping,' ;
buried away from light and usefulness by
a rubbish of prejudice, habit, and custom
—doing but half work for want of cul- j
tare. j >
"A mute inglorious Milton," or rather 1
Webster, going about the world, strug
gling with his own soul, yet bound by
chains of ignorance, precluded his
doing I)'it a moiety of the good it lay in ;
his power to do. j i
All the way through our long, tedious '■ :
journey, he had been ever on the watch
to do good. He gave up his seat by the
lire to an Irish woman and her child, and
took one farther back ; soon a young girl j :
seated herself by his side; as the night
hours wore on, and she nodded wearily,
he rose, spread his beautiful leopard skin
with its soft, rich lining, on the seat, made
a pillow of his carpet-bag, and insisted
that she should lie down and sleep
"What will you do 'i said she, naively.
"Never mind me—l can stand up and
sleep, like a buffalo; I'm used to it."
A little b )v, pulled up from a sound
nap to give place to incomers; was paci-j
tied and made quiet by a handful of chest
nuts and a glowing bit of candy out of
the big man's pocket. When he left the
cars for refreshment he brought back his;
hand full of pies, and distributed thein J
among a weary group. A mother and
seven little children, the eldest not twelve j
years old, whose husband and father left
the cars at every stopoing-place. and re
turned more stupid and beastly each time, :
scolding the little tired restless oaes with
thick tongue, arid glaring his furious red
eyes upon the poor grieved victim of a
wife, life a tiger upon its prey, "because!
she did not keep her young ones)
'still; they would disturb everybody."
No bite ot refreshment, no exhilirating
draught, no rest from that fat, cross baby,j
came to her all the long night, save when
the big mau stretched out liis great hands
and took her baby boy for an hour, and
let him play with his splendid watch
to keep him quiet.
"I'll give ye a thousand dollars for him," |
said he, as he handed him back to her 1
"You may have the whole lot for that,"
answered the drunken father, with a swine- '
like grunt.
"It's a bargain," said the big man, "pro- 1
vidin' the mother's willin'." i !
"Indado, sir, it's not the one of them !
i can be had for money," was the quiet yet
j determined response of the mother's heart . ! <
How kindly lie helped her off the cars 1
when, at the break of day, they came to i
their journey's end. j J
Thus all night had he been attracting ]
the attention of the waking ones in the!,
ears. But his kindness and rough polite
ness would soon have been forgotten by
the mass of the passengers, had he not
stamped it upon our memories with his
"I wonder who he is ?"
"Where did he get in ?"
"What an interesting character." (
"Education would spoil him." t
"What rich furs !" j
"Did you notice what a splendid watcli i
he carries ?" i ]
"He' s some great man incog." ! j
Such were a few of the queries that
passed from lip to lip. But there came •
no answer; for he who alone could have t
answered sat crouched in his fur coat, (
seeming unconscious of all but his own t
deep thoughts. j
"Chicago !" shouted the brakeman, and g
it • I
in an instant all was confusion, and our ]
hero was lost in the crowd. The next we t
saw of him was at the baggage stand, ]
looking up a band-box for a sweet-looking
country girl who was going to learn the [
milliner's trade in the city. As we pass- ]
ed to our carriage we discovered him again, t
holding an old man by the hand, while he t
grasped the shoulder of the conductor of t
another train with the other, getting for t
the deaf, gray-haired sire, the right infor-' i
luation as to the route he should take to c
get to his "darter who lived near Musca- v
tine lowa." j l
"God bless him for his good deeds!" a
was our earnest asperation, as we whirled {
round the corner. May his shadow nev- t
er grow less ; nor the gold in his pocket (
diminish, for in his unnumbered charities
and mercies dropped so unostentatiously {
here and there, he is, perhaps, doing t
more good in his day and generation, than .
he who donates his thousands to build g
charitable intitutions, to give honor to his , v
own name. ; j
Oh, how much the world needs great *
hearts that are able to comprehend little i
things !—and yet how often it happens i
that the learned, the wise, and the rich 1
outgrow the every-day wants of humanity, ■'
and, feeling within themselves the power
to move nightily, pass by the humble du
ties that would make a thousand heart
leap for joy, and push on, looking lor :
some wrong to right, some great sorrow
to be soothed, some giant work to be ac
complished; and failing to find the </>r at ]
work, live and die incarcerated in their 11
own selfishuess, and do nothing at all.
This rough man's nature seemed the •
. . . I
nature of the little child. His quick eye j
saw at a glance ; his gaeat heart warmed,
and his great hand executed his little '
work of charity—so small that one would 1
have expected to see them slip between v
his giant fingers unaccomplished —yet j
were they done. The recording angel i
will have a longer column to set down to 1
his account of deeds well done, than all 1
the rest of the passengers on that crowd- j
ed car, on that long, tedious, stormy night, ]
in January, 1856. m
Tlio History or a 'C ompromise.'!
Seveu years ago an elderly gentleman
! in the White House wrote his name at
the bottom of a document which, he bland
ly assured the nation, would be a panacea
for all their political troubles. It was an
act to declare hospitality a crime, aod the
denial of a crust of bread or a cup of wa-'
ter the most cardinal of patriotic virtues. 1
The prescription failed. Instead of an
olive-branch the Fugitive Slave law prov-l
;cd a fire-brand. Instead of promoting j
! peace, it has doue othing but foment strife, j
The quarrel if pretended to "compromise"
blazed up more fiercely the moment it was
put in the statue book, and has grown
hotter and hotter ever since. It has
drawn thousands of dollars from the Treas
ury, while it has hardly returned a dozen
runaways. It has exasperated the North,
while it has not benefitted the South. It
lias broken up the parties that sustained
it, rumec! the presses that advocated it,
and crushed the officers that enforced it.
• i has brought down the grey hairs of its
Prasidenial parent in sorrow- to a politic
al grave. It has embroiled us at home,
and disgraced us abroad. It has weaken
ed public respect for law, and stimulated
popular recourse to riot. The chains a
rouud Boston Court-house—the murder
ous volleys at Christiana—the bloody creek
at \\ ilksbarri —the alarm bell at Syracuse
—the cell of Williamson, and now the
armed strife of sheriff and marshal in Ohio:
these are evidences of the kind of "peace"
that has followed Millard Fillmore's "ad
justment" of the slavery question.
Correspondence of the Missouri Democrat.
Acting Governor Stanton and James L.
Orr, M. C., in Lawrence—An attmpt
to organize the Democratic party, Ac.
LAWRENCE, K. T., May 17,1857.
The object of Secretary Stanton's re
cent visit to this city, was to make an at
tempt to unite the free state men with
the pro-slavery men in the organization of
the old democratic party. He expresses
himself desirous of having the evils of the
past forgotten, and to commence anew.
If Stanton will forget that such a concern
as the bogus legislature ever had an exis
tence, and do all he can to have its acts
destroyed, instead of lending himself to
the work of enforcing a spurious code, he
might make his proposition to the free
state men with better hone&ofsuccess.
But as it is, lie cannot necks of
the people to take the yolro forged by the
Missouri usurpation.
lie must remember that the " democrat
ic measure," known a.s the Kansas bill,
has forced the issue upon the settlers of
this territory, and they have arrived
themselves on one side or the other, in
favor of freedom or against it. Old par
ty names have become obsolete, and to
make Kansas a free or slave state is the
on!}- question at issue in this contest, and
when disposed of, other questions of pub
lic policy will come into the political
arena, and parties will organize accord
ingly : and until that time, it is useless
to attempt the organization of democratic
or republican parties.
James L. Orr, member of congress
7 O
from South Carolina, arrived in this city
to-day. He has doubtless come to Kan
sas to assist in laying the ropes for tho
subjugation of this territory. A year ago
South Carolina sent her banditti out here
for the purpose of exterminating the free
state men, and to decide the question at
issue in behalf of slavery. That move
ment was unsuccessful, and the "chivalry"
were compelled to return with their hau
liers trailing in the dust.
At this time, the same state sends one
V her u •) .ted ami influential politi
to mam.- Ivatisaa a slave state, by
;e.i. assisted by the gener
al gov- e.'iicnt. What the banditti failed
l<; do, . ■ to bo attempted by Gen. Harney
nw-igbur thousand dragoons.
Mr. Orr says that nine thousand names
have bceu returned as voters in this ter
ritory, on the census lists to the governor,
and that several counties remain to be
heard from, in which no attempt has yet
been made to take the census. Accord
ing to these returns, and the thousands
of free-state men whose names have not
been taken, Kansas must be a very pop
ulous state or territory.
The governor will apportion the repre
sentation in the-constitutional convention
in accordance with the number of names
returned 10 his office. That is, oue dele
gate to one hundred and fifty voters. At
that ratio Lawrenbe district should have
nne-fourth of the delegation—fifteen mem
bers—and not more than one will he al
lowed from this vicinity, for not one man
out of fifty has been taken by the census
In the Shawnee reserve, where there
is not thre*> hundred legal voters, and
only fifteen hundred claims, these bogus
officers have found three thousand "qual
ified elebtors;" which gives that district
twenty delegates, or one-third of the mem
bers of the convention.
Yours in haste, ESSEX.
Pratt, a Mormon Elder was
killed on the 14th ult near Vanßuren
Ark., by a man named Hector, whose wif
, Pratt had seduced and was taking to Uta