The Potter journal. (Coudersport, Pa.) 1857-1872, October 29, 1857, Image 1

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Thos. S. :i;nso,
To nhem all Letters and Coinmomcatioa.
ihould be addressed, to secure attentioa.
Terms—S a variably ia Advance:
?(L'2s per Annum.
Toi*3as ol' Advertising.
1 Square fee liiiesl I insertion, - - - s<j
• - "" 3 " - - - $1
fiLieh ?nbseqnn' insertion less than 13, 25
1 Sqiu~e three monlas, ------- 2 s<j
; "six " ------- 4 'jij
l " IJIUO •' ------- 5 50
1 " on; re a", <j 00
tftnl? and ijg irt. work. per sq., 3 in*. 3 00
tverv subsequent Lus&ruoa, ----- 50
i (\*luata sn njontliu, ------- 13 00
" " '• ------- lo ou
■J " " " 7 O'i
; " prr jeer, 30 00
i " 1 ' 4 ' - tu 00
Aiscin'strator's or Executor's Notice, 200
iadlto s Nonces, each, ----- -- 150
leritTs Sales, per tract, ------ ijg
i-rriagr Soi:C-:s. isc!i, ----- -- 100
l-:j. ' >s or Pro:'j- oral Cards, r* h.
uor exce iing 3 l;n;s per year, - - 500
£.c si and Editorial Notices, pe: line, 10
All trap .;nt aiircrtiiemcnto inast be
pa Utu a Iran:.-, umi no no.ire will bo taken
of sdisfti-ii meati from adivi&ncc, it ulcus Hu-j
i c licco'n-.aaici bv the money or satistuctory
'Jtosiafss Ctiirti.s.
f nr::xk--fa tM*iPldl|(nMM:aiU.' , u:!UaitlMllUhJtlllU4lllUlUlh
Joii N 3. Ai A.S .
Loudersj)p:t. I'sc, will ailend the tevtral
Courts -ii Potter ani M'iCtan Counties. All
entrusted in bis <:are \% 111 receive
prompt atu-atioa. Office on Main st.. oppo
ssiii the Court Ifouie. lu:l
F. w. knox,
ATTORNEY AT I. VYV". Coud-trspc: t. Pa., will
luteiul tn Concts in Potter and
the adjoining Counties. 10; 1
Coudcrapoi t. Pa., will attend to al* busim •>
entrusted to his care, Wi:h promptnes and
Ideiity. Office in Temperance Ufe k. sec
ma.! ioor. Main St. 10:1
ATTORNEY AT LAW. Coude:>p..rt, Pa., will
a:Rnil Lti a!; uu -ill .-as c. a . .r. ou . ;u. v. • ilj
cart :tn-l p' Oliiec ct n. roi' \\
aiici Tiii' d sis. 1: I
is. i\ WILLiSTON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW. Weii-cc o . Tioga Co..
ia.. w ii a. <•! the Loans in Pth.ici* a:.
.V: - -ita Ceunties. 0:13
ATTOAA AT LAW. \\ ell short/. Tioga Co
i'.t v.iii r galai L attend the Co.*.' C'uanty. u. I.i
Rotid P. 0.. A i g-'ii. Tp. Pi- io.
wii attend to all in . in h: in . ...
rare and -dispa; h. .
attend to<- . or u. u- • . ; at bin ;-
tot lam, upon 1-a o-a :c -• . L. : .
♦* g'.v-.-a i! requi: S.— " o an
fart o; .itc t ou—o i:Jc . ..
O. T. fA.c.SUN,
TRACT!''i v * 1* PL YsICCtX. 'o . i --port. Pa.
r pert;ulF informs .he c ii.-no! ii vii
t*gt ...ud \ ••in.ty that L v i uiu i \ r. -
*pyrd to all call lor pro! -ion .1 •• \ >.'•
Oi.c? oa JiHiu t.. in Ltiii lii.go: u:-.;L c -
rup ed by C. W. Hi! . h' . n.JJ
C. 5. UOS C'A. L_ ' T . . .
JO S Eil, 2-i AN N ev J<>A' LS,
DSilifdlo IS i i.. ' )'. S (Tt-.i , IP.Y
.Re it.- .V (ir.> ~!j ;
rror.rit'Ul. M:l:U St., t_i. " r.- '..ia , I'll.
1• : 1
oonusa SUITS. k. A. jo>ls.
S.VI I Til A JON Kc,
PaucT Articlf. Stations; • Dry ti..o-ls.
Groceries, cue., Alain St., Coud' rsj or-. Pa.
IU: 1
Crockt-rr, Gtoccrits, .kc., M*.u -t..
C-cuder&port, Pa. Id:I
AZINES and Music, N. W. coiner on Main
aa i Third its. f Coadcrsport. Pa. io. 1
i#WKLLKR, Con-ier.-port. Pa., having engag
a wigrfo'-v in fc"hocnuuer A Jack?o-u -
3-ore will cajry en tLo Watch ftjjd Jvv }ry
•i?iii-s there. A line a.s-ortin* q: of Jew-
Ory csaslantly on hand. Watches au-i
dewciry carefully repaired, in the bc-t style.
fa tac shortest notice—all wo. lv warraaied.
"•ARM. Ma u St.. nearly oppoat.- the Court
house. Louder:-port. Pa. 1 a t.iyi Sheet
Loa Ware made to order, in good sttic. on
Jbort notice. *lO.l
POUDE-H&i uii-i DOT EL,
! • OL ASSMIRS, Proprietor. Corner of
at ] Second Streets. Loade*.sport. Poi
*>~r Co., fa. 3:44
PA'nrEL M. MILLS, Proprietor, Coles burg,
Co., Pa.. s*vea miles north oi* Ocu-
en the TTePrrille Road. 9. 14
i Ijlufhut.
a While t::c resper btlls vrere ringing.
hen the birds had coast d their singing,
To my heart sweet ractn'ries bringing
Cauie the tnusic of the rain.
Mr chihihood days so bright and fleeting
y Tiny rain-drops seesnrpl repeating,
"W .ikin- joy at thoughts of meeting
Tho-e I ne'er mav sco again.
Mem'Fcs sweet o;nl sr.d were blending,
I,| T
L i JOY and sorrow both were lending
oiecs which were eror ending:
Sweet the music of the rain.
From my heart I may not sever
Mem'rj. a ind> x pointing ever
Backward to the joys that never
}; Will revisit me ag. in.
j. Though to-uav i-: full of sorrow,
); From the past we stiil may borrow
Joys once tasted, while to-morrow
Whispers ever, hope in me!
Like sweet harp-string* t nieh d all lightly—
Dreams the fairies weave us nightly—
Come t'iA rain drops smiling brightly,
Dripping from each waving tree.
Jeweled V >s--osns brightiy gleaming
Like tite stars of Heaven beaming,
While a muflled voice is seeming
•Still to hum the mystic strain ;
Music cf tho-e ''->w!r _' numbers
Lulls the heart to dreamy slumbers,
Waking stiil a thousand wonders
Of the magic voice c>f rain.
| - §t\nk\ gait.
. i
! •
Ida was a brine. Ouward througli a
whole year of jiutieat waiting, liad she
moved toward t'tii- blessed, estate, all her
tlioug! t.s golden over, till her fancies radi
';iul with love and beauty. .\nd now she
was a bride—a happy bride, ile who had
woo iicr. was worthy to wear her as a
crown. Kind, honorable and gifted—his
praise was on the lips of all men.
Yes. Ida was a happy bride. It was the
blooming, fragrant spring-time. Singing
birds were in all the trees; musical wa
: is glided through the peaceful land
se. p ; an-J a cliiudless sky bending over
ah. The blessedness of this new hie was
r.:v:.U'i' in. she had tv r imagined, in a!!
the warmth of her maiden fancies.
A ii m i; hat- vara <j and waned since the
!;;v- r became the husband ; a moon drcp.-
; ing the sweets of Mount Uybla. It was
evi ning, ai.d Ida stood by the window
looking ma 11:*< ugh the dusk waiting and
wishing, for the return of her husband,
who was lajer than usual iVont home. At
iast, her glad ey< s caught a glimpse of lii>
weli known form, and starting back from
the wind w. she went with springingsteps
to meet him at the door; opening it ere
his hand could ting the bell.
' Dear Edward I" V liat a ga-iiing love
was in her voice '. She raised her lips for
a kiss, and a kiss was given. Tint some
how, ite warui'h did not go down into her
"Are you not we!?- dear ? she asked,
> • r\ tenderly, as they entered ti ed picas
ant little parlor ; and she looked up into
lib face and tried to vend hi -expressions.
Hut the twibght was too deep.
"Quite as well as usual love.'' 'i he
voice of her husband was low and gentle;
but it had a new and changed sound lo#
the young wife's ear —a sound that made
her heart tremble. And vet, his arm
was around her, and he held one of her
hands tightly compressing it within his
It grew dark in the room before the gas
was lighted. When the strong ray-, ieli
suddenly unou the face of her husband,
J 4
Ida saw a change there also. 11 was cloud
ed. Not heavily clouded —but in shadow.
Steadily and earnestly she looked at him.
until he turucd his head partly away, to
escape the searching scrutiny.
••You are not well Kuward?'' Ida look
ed serious—aimo.-t concerned.
"Don't trouble yourself, I'm very well.
He smiled and patted her cheek play
fully— cr. rather with an attempt at play
iuluvss. Ida ■ not deceit ed. A e iange
hau passed over her ligsbaud. aic was
;not as he had been,
in due time tea was announced, and the
little family party of two gathered around
to Toe ibhirEpfes J' Xrue ikipocrqcti, {p>D ti>e of i/loraLfe, Jlite pnd Tu'fe?.
the tsblc in the neat breakfast room.
; "Burnt tea.-t and dDh water tea. as usu
- alThese were the Erst Ifofds spokei
by the young husband, after sitting down
jto the table ; aad the manner iu wluch
they were uttered, left Ida in no doubt as
! to his state of feeling. How suddenly
was the tine gold dimmed.
A few hours earlier the young husband
| had called to see his mother, an orderly
industrious woman, and a notable house
; keeper. As usual, he was full of the
pr.tix • of his beautiful young wife, in whom
; he had yet .seen nothing to blame—noth
ing below perfection. But his mother
: hod 1 iked at her with different eyes.—-
j Living iu the world was, with her, no hol
iday affair, and marriage no mere honey
moon. She was too serious iu all her views
| and feelings, to have much patience with
what she esteemed mere play day life. A
little jealous of her sen's affection, she
was, withal; and his going forth to anoth
. ei, with an ardor so deferent from what
it had ever gone forth to herself, modeller
feci cold toward the dear little wife of Ed
ward. who was his favored object.
•*]t is time," she said, with a distance
iof manner that surprised her son. "for you
t aud Ida to be a little serious. 9be honey
moon is over, and the quicker you come
down to sober realities the better. There
ii one thing about Ida that rather disap
points me."
Edward was too much surprised, at
this unexpected annunciation, to speak.
His mother went on.
"She's no housekeeper "
| "She's young, mother. She'll learn,"
lie said, interrupting her.
"She had no right to marry until she
, *'
knew bow to make a cup of tea?" The
old lady spoke with considerable asperity,
j "Mother:"
"I say just what T mean. Not a sin
gle cup of tea have 1 yet tasted in your
house that was tit to drink ? i don't know
how you cart put up with such stuff*. You
Wouldn't have done it at my'table, I'm
. very sure."
"Pi< as-e mother, uou't talk so auy more
. about Ida! I <-an't hear to hear it.*'
" You can bear to hoar the. truth, Ed
• ward. 1 speak t' -r Ida's good flagL voar
own too. She's a wife now ; not a mere
- wee heart. And she's your in. use-keeper
besides, with something more to do and
. care fur, than dross, music, party going
. and enjoyment. 1 must say, as I said a
. nil ic wiiiie ago. that lam (Ufuppointed
in her. are girls thinking about
! when they get mavriou ? . Surely, not of
their hu-hand's household comforts.''
"If you please, mother, we will change
. the subject," said the young man. who
was e.\ci ediiigh pained by the strong lan
. guage lie had heard. He spoke so tirin
: h that the matter was dropped, and not
again alluded to at the time.
We have, now, an explanation of the
• change in the young husband's state of
. mind. There were some truths in what
• i:h mother said, and tlii.- ni&cfeit so mack
hprdk rto bear. The first shadow had fal
, lt-n, that dimmed the brightness of Lis
- new and h: ;>pv life.
fetiii 11;e delects in Ida—very small to
his eyes, even after they were pointed out
by his modi or-—v. arc things of no mo
> meat. lie had not intended her for a
; household drudge. Was sine not ioviug
r hearted, accomplished and beautiful? —
: What more could he ask ?
i True, lie had intended her for the pre
• siding genius of his home; and there were
. sober, matter-of-fact things to be done in
all homes. But her devotion to those
would come in g> d time., iiow Euward
came to speak s he did about the tea'and
, toast, was almost on the instant that he
- had given utterance to his words, a myste
ry to himself. He started wita the start
. that he gave his young wife, and trembled
> for the effect of his unkindly uttered
words. He would have given much could
- lie have recalled them. But they were
said beyond any power of unsaying.
The reference of his mother to the ia
different tea with which she had been ser
■ ved at his table, had not only mortified
: him, but made some things distiuot in his
■ memory, which, bef. re, were only seen
dimly, and as matters of indifference.—
1 Where all was so bright, why should he
i'turn hi? eyes upon a f r .y fragmenta^of
'clouds skirting the far horizon? He
i- would uot have done so if left to himself,
u 'I he*clouds might have spread until verv
n much larger than a man's hand, before
h their murky aspect would have drawn his
s happy vision from the all-prevailing
y brightness.
Ida's hand, which was raising a cup to
.1 her lips, fell almost as suddenly as if pal
i sied ; a paleness over- pread her couute
- ■ nance : her lips bad a motion between a
e quiver and a spa.-un. Trout her eyes
i which seemed bound, as by a spell, to her
- husband's face, tears rolled out and fell iu
r large drops over her cheeks.
Never before, since Edward had looked
- upon that dear young face, had he seen
- its b so veiled. Never before,
- had a word of his been answered bv auv
) tiling but smiles and love responses.
"I'm sorry, Edward. 'liow the sad
. tremulous voice of Ida rebuked the young
- husband's unkiudness. "It shall not be
I so again."
And she kept her word. Suddenly he
- had a wake ued her from a bright dreamy
ilia sion. Slie had been in a kind of fairy
• land. The hard, every-day working world,
i with its common working-day wants, by
- an unlooked-fer shifting of scenery, had
■ struck with an unlovely aspect upon her
i startled vision; the jagged edges of the
- real wounding painfully her soft ideal.—
But, once awakened, she never.slept again.
; It was the first shadow that fell dimly and
coldly upon her married heart—the first,
and to the life experienced, we need not
go tr the last.
Burnt toast and had tea! To think
that common things like these should
' have power to shadow a young heart bas
-1 king in the sunlight of love ! Ida had
thought of her husband as almost indif
ferent to the vulgar wanteds words made
manifest. She saw clearer new. lie was
' but flesh like the rest.
Aery, very tenderly spoken were all the
words of Edward to his young wife, du
ring the shadowed evening that followed
this first diimiiug of their home light.—
And Ida, who felt the kindness of his
heart, tried to smile and seem as of old.
■ But. somehow, she could not force into
' existence the smiles she wished to send
out as tokens of forgiveness. Thoughts
' of the bad tea and burnt toast, the "usual"
—and there lay the smart !—entertain
ment she had provided ; or. rather, suffer
ed to he provided by unskillful hands- -
were her own any more skilful ? for her
returning husband haunted her all the
"it shall not be so again !" Not idly
uttered were these words. All the cve
-1 uiug she kept repeating them to herself,
with a steadily increasing purpose and si
clearer vision. "Edward shall never have
another occasion fur rebuke."
Several times during the evening, the
voung husband was tempted to refer to
the conversation held with his mother, in
explanation c-f his own conduct, but he
wisely kept his own council. Of all
things he dreaded an estrangement be
tween his wife and mother.
On tHe next morning, Euwavd noticed
that the young wife left her chamber ear
lier than usual and went down stairs. Not.
however, to fill thc-ir home with music, as
she had ofteu done. Her matinee was tlm
singing tea kettle, not the stringed piano.
She bad a heightened color, when she took
her place at the breakfast table, and pour
ed Or-her husband the fragrant coflbe,
made with her own hands, because she
hud discovered that her indifferent cook
was ignorant of her art. How did she
know the art ? It was almost accidental;
c.f .-.ome v.-'-'d home wife's
talk had served her in the right iimc.—
I lie warm praise that Edward bestowed
on the cotfoe was ample reward.
Ida had bought a cook ho k during the
day. That sounds unromantic. But it
was even so ; and she studied it for hours.
During the afternoon her mother-in-law
came iu; and Ida urged her to stay for
I „ ;
The old lady accepted the invitation;
not, we are sorry to say in the very best
spirit. She had opened the war on Ed
ward's butterfly wife, and sbo meant to
follow it up. When Edward came home
aiid found that his mother was there Lis
y pistil fell- He saw by the ccraers of her
mouth, that she had not forgotten their
. interview of the preceding day; and that
her state of mind was not a wliit more
• charitable. Ida's face was a little shad
; owed: but she w>s cheerful, and very at
: tentive to Ins mother —and. happily igno
rant of hfe time feelings. She came and
> went from the breakfast room to the par
lor, frequently, evidently with household
cares upon her mind.
Tea was at length announced. Edward's
heart trembled. His mother arose, and
with a cold air accompanied her children
to the room where t he evening meal await
ed them. The table had an attractive look, i
new to the eyes of both Edward and hi
mother. It was plain that another hand
besides the servant's had been there. Ida
poured the tea, and Edward served the
hot biscuit and cream toast. The eye of
the latter was fixed on bus mother,as she
lifted, with on air which he understood to
say, "Poor -tuff!!" the cup of tea to her
lips. She tasted the fragrai t beverage—
set the cup down—lifted and tasted
again. The infusion was faultless Yes
I c
leven to her critical taste Next the bis
cuit, and next the toast were tried.
•i i ;
Mrs Goodfellow couid not have surpassed
'Have you changed your cook?' Tiie
old lad}* looked across the table at Ida.
'No, mother,' answered lua, smiling.—
'Only the cook has found a mistress.'
'ls this all your work, Ida?' 1 lie oiu
lady spoke in a half incredulous tone.
'Yes, it is all my work. Don't you think,
if 1 try hard, I'll make a housekeeper.?' I
This waa so unexpected tliatthe husband's
mother was delighted. Ida had goue right
home to her matter-of-fact heart.
'Why yes, you precious little darling,'
she answered, with an enthusiasm almost
foreign to her character, *1 couldn't have
done better myself.'
I The shadow passed from the heart of i
I da, a? her eyes rested on the pleased coun
tenance of her husband. It was the flrst
shadow that had fallen since their harpy
wedding day and moved on quickly; but
its memory was left behind. It was like
the drawing ot'a veil, which partly conceals.
ret beautifies a countenance, revealing the
enchanted expression.
Ida's husband was a man like the rest,
with man's common wants and weaknesses:
and her married world one in which hands j
must take hold of common duties. But'
she soon learned that, in the real world,
were real delights, substantial and abid
| Bravely did she walk in tlie new patL
that lay at her feet, *She had her reward.
Tea and toast but expressed her household (
duties, none of which were rightly perform-!
Ed daring that delicious hhoueymoou.—
But, she tailed in nothing afterward; and
soon learned that the grouud in which
true happiness takes deepest root, aud
from which it springs up with strongest
branch -s, is the ground of common home-.
ly duties.
Mfrtfh Jpstttlatttf.
Power of a Won!.
I was told a story to-day— a temper
ance story. A mother, on the green hills
of Vermont, stood at her garden gate,
holding bv her right hand a son of six-
W . cr
teen years, mad with love of the sea.
" Edward," said she, " they tell me
that the great temptation of a seaman's
life is drink. Promise me bafore you
quit your mother's baud, that you will
never drink."
toid he—for he told me the story —
"I gave her the promise. I went the ,
broad go be over —Calcutta, the Alediter- ;
raneau, San Francisco, the cape of Good
Hope —arm for forty years, whenever I ,
saw a ginss filed with liquor, my moth- ,
erfe form by the garden-gate of the hill
side of Vermaut rose up before me, ami
to-day, at sixty, my lips are innocent oi"
the taste of liquor."
Was not that sweet evidence of the
power of a single word ? Aud yet it was
but half ; for said he—
"Yesterday there came into my room
a young man of forty, aud asked ine"—
" Do you knoty me ?"
" No," said I.
" I was brought once," said he to my
informant, "drunk in your presence, on
, shipboard; you were a jwisseuger; the
captain kicked rao aside; you took sue j
into your berth, kept me there till I had
slept off the intoxication, and you asked
mo if I hod a mother. I said that I
never knew one ; I never heard a moth
er's voice. You told mc of yours at the
garden gate, and to-day, twenty years la
ter, T am master of one f the finest pack
ets in New York, and I came to ask you
to come and see me."
How far back that little candle throws
its beam—that mother's word on the
green hill-side of Vermont! God be
thanked for the almighty power of a sin
jglc word.— Wetulfilt Phillips.
lie* crencc.
Where is the reverence of the oldea
time? Men with grey hairs, women
wtih wrinkled fa -ft-i, and some who have
not so far advanced in life, speak of it aa
a thing that was, and they mourn that
they do ut see it now-a-days. Oucc,
Age was respected because it was age,
without regard to titles or riches ; the
very children in the street paused as the
| old man tottered by the n, leaning ou his
stick, his long white hair fluttering in
the wanton breeze, and his dim eyei
lighting up at the sight of their pleasant
: smiles.
We were visiting lately in a family
where were several pretty girls. Beau
tifully attired, well educated, literally
loaded with accomplishments, for they
could sing, dance, play embroider, chat
ter French, translate Latin, sing Italian,
and withal were very handsome. The
; door opened and in came an old la
dy—very old. She looked about her as
she slowly moved forward, not a head
| bowed in token of her presence—no ona
moved to give her a seat. " Louisa,"
whispered one, " give grandmother a
| chair."
" 1 shan't; she might as will stay up
stairs," was the ungracious reply.
Presently one of them (shamed at our
disapproval, for wo immediately arose and
conducted the aged woman towards our
| own chair) oifered her the seat with rock
ers, but she declined it, prefering to take
what was given ungrudgingly. During
all her stay, these very genteel young la
dies noticed her 110 more than as if she
was not in the room, except when she
made au odd or ungrammatical expres
sion, they tittered and ridiculed it
' " i
among themselves.
0, it was thouroughly revolting to see
this crown of grey hairs despoiled of its
glory, mocked by those thoughtless crea
ture-. And soon those trembling feet
would be treading the verge of the grave,
, and the mould crumble auu fall ou the
1 coffin, and they would think of her as the
Old Woman whose presence was a uuij
anee — a cheek upon thior pleasure—one
who was '.ways quoting old-fashioned
; songs or singing them through her nose,
who e homely gown, with its crossed
handkerchief, was distasteful to their
I fashionable eye-, and of whom even
the matron would say—"Well real
ly, mother was growing so very child
ish, I could hardly mourn that she was
Thus it is and in this way that m&av
of the aged are treated at the present day.
II h £ >rruw3j their tsars, their sacrifices,
their humble, h vd toils, for children
who have grown to manhood, are all for
gotten. and those to whom they have
given birth are ashamed of them. Al.v!
that it -hvuld be so —that while God,
the great being to whom we owe all that
wc are, treats the gray hairs with rever
ence, calling them crowns of glory, we
insult tii -i in our conduct toward them
uth in public and in private. Let no
one who has any regard fer his own char
actor, his own purity and integrity, treat
the aged with irreverence—they stand
very near God.
—The terms are simply stated, and tha
problem easily solved. Given—a young
man of twenty-two, a young woman of
eighteen, a log cabin and a quarter-section
of land in the "far wett." Product—
i'orty years afterwards, boundless possess
ions and about two hundred descendants.
Read the following statement of fact: Re
cently a lady stopped at the Madison
House, Covington, Ky., with hor hus
band and thirty-two children. She was
ab ,ut sixty years of age, but luoked young
and hearty. If this can be boat, we are
| ready to chrotiicle the fact.