Newspaper Page Text
' . . .
... . 1 , . • .
' , . •
••••-•'- . _ 116. l a . . . ___ ~.. • '-
• r • . .
~ . •
~. . . ...., 3
..--.-., ,‘- • -',
11. 0 \ 0 ...... 0 . •
Fi • ,e '- . •
of- ,i-ti „• .
( li t, .
t ; ,
• till ...0
, •liv /IP' r -11.1.,'-.‘ol,ouvr.t . ..4ita
, . .
• . .
.. • . .
• - b- , . i
-„: . . bebotea to file ?iirfaipies of Imp DA) o eile9 , o t e 11),3 I.Viss.elrlisptioq of 3)rohliil9, Y.ilei - qtril•e , aqa Icztos.
c. voLuNE XI.- -Naglitklit. 5. •
~:: o.' r
ri . ilif, POTTER J011E111124 . 1
. 0 cvERY THURSDAY MORNING,' By
4 . Thos. S. Chase,
and Communications 1
to secure attention.
L - „• m anvariabiy in Advance :
4 : ' 4.- " C; .--- per Annan].
-2,,. - ` 1 : —'lll.-:tittittlln 11111111 l 111MMIIIIIIIUMUI
'-. 'Of Advertising.
4, , ~,,.,; [1... lines] I insertion, -- - 50
-- •tt - . --IN .. 3 " ---$1 50
~.- q , ••
`t. • - nt n. , •ertion less than 13, 25
: y.,,,,,,•p .
..it,... : - 5., 1 ._ ; ,..,: three mouths, ..
I=4 . - F.. 1 " 400
4 . nine " 550
,• one year, 6 00
r :.:'. „ I: sa d figure Work, per sq., 3 ins. 300
3it . ,41) .• • ........ut insertion, -- - --- - 50
• • ,_ 1
I ... COl':.nn six months, 13 00
t I 7 00
' .. per - year. 30 00
~ , a 16 00
o.; , 1, •,-
-- ' l•le•column, displayed, per annum 65 00
t ~, i' six months, 3 00-
• three " 16 00
a " one month, 600
, I per square
y l . 'tf IQ lines, each insertion under 4, 100
I . ; e, Low ~ • • ten, will be inverted at the same
4. t it , :s.
1 .•,..' l a 'aistrater's or Executor's Notice, 200
'.' 1:1:tor'i No.ices, each,
~ 1 50
. i .
. tr il l Sales, per tract, 1 50
1,-..igt Notices, each, 1 00
~ - .torte Notices. e..,th, 1 50
.-: i.:4-eigrator's :Saks, per square for 4 .
.4 ia?•::io . ei, . 1 50
-.. ...,,, or Professional Cards, each, --
- .1,) .Ln:t 1111 , 4 s Lues. per 3-ear, - - 500
1 .." •,..olani 1...:r 4 . tonal Notices, per line, 10
ri ,' ... "rp.lll trar..iient advertisements must be
'" - .; , 1ea1. ,- auce. and no notice will be taken
; , 7• , 11••::•..i,iii,lits from a distance. unless they
''' . u tompanied by the money or satisfactory
• • -treats.
.r. . . .
-'i , glll.sint,ss Ga
~., i _
' .... . truniUMMLUMMISMISIMIMILIMIZI
ill 1; JOHN S. MANN, k
.al ITORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW,
v. Coudersport, Pa., will attend the several
us'Courts in Potter and M'Kcan Counties. All
in •.. Irainecs entrusted in his care will' receive
1 i INapt ?mention. Office on Main st., oppo
: et' et the Court House. • 10:1
) . .. ,7. ' F. W. KNOX,
Th ITOR.VF.Y AT L.W. Coudersport, Pa., will
go '.. agelarly attend the Courts in Potter and
a"... be sdjoluing Counties. 10:1
; 11 ".
ARTHUR G. OL3ISTED,
di - ...
itORNEY & COUNSELLOR AT LAW.'
Y t s ... CtJersport. Pa., will attend to all lousiness
..;, t0:r1it....1 to his care, with promptues and
I:elity. office in Temperance Block, sec
citoor Main St. 10:1
'tie .. ISAAC BENSON.
ne . rioRNEt AT LAW. Coudersport, Pa., will
i t .,' gaol to all business entrusted to him, with
cue - arelod promptness. Office corner of West
. al Th.rd sts. 10:1
stet: L. I'. W.II,LISTON,
, r .,. ; ITORNEY AT LAW, Wellsboro', Tioga Co..
, re . IL trill attend the Courtsin Potter and
ii ,„::: lino Counties. ' 9:13
kr i ':.
R. W. BENTON,
hi. , SVEYOR AND CONVEYANCER, Ray
:ru ~:-. Led P. 0., (Allegany Tp.,) Potter Co., Pa.,
Ev:i Ti:i attend to all business iu his line, with
brie urt arid dispatch. - 9:33
W. K. KING,
0e. , ,. ...VEYOP., DRAFTSMAN AND CONVEY-
Co '.' LACER, Snietliport, M'Kean Co., Pa.. will
c.ti . teal to business for non-resident land
?ala•.- ltit.ere, upon reasonable terms. Referen
eri. ' togiven if required. P. S . ..—XlNfig of any
i's .of the County made to order. 9:13
e e : -
ate..' 0. T. ELLISON,
sic'; 4 1 :71CING PHYSICIAN, Coulnsport,.Pa.,
Me . - T aspeetfully informs the citizens of the vil
,-"i- '4, , ,t and vicinity that he will promply re
r°=`:; • ?..^.l to all calls for professional services.
to '•.. 45.. e on Main st:. in building formerly oc-
Ulle %pled by C. W. Ellis, Esq. 9:22 .
. cu..'. z'atss SMITH. E. A. JONES.
eut .... SMITH & JONES,
-: ...ILERS IS DRUGS, MEDICINES, PAINTS,
u .; V.11,-Fancy Articles, Stationer', Dry Good's,
; D . • groceries, Ix., Main st., Coudersport, Pa.
nibl - ,'. 10:1
loin • - D. E. OLMSTED, '
r i , ..y..ER IN DRY GOODS, READY-MADE
ed ~ I , 4 :bing, Crockery, Groceries, d:c., Main st.,
tlyt : •. te:cersport, Pa. 10:1
s a , :
rosi M. W. MANN,
A p ER IN BOOKS d: STATIONERY, MAG
°is° , AZISES and Music, N. W. corner of Main
sabl : ad Third sts., Coudersport, Pa. 10:1
s no 1?.. R. lIAItRINGTON,
lora .S ,aLLER, Coudersport, Pa., having engag,-
be ' .
WiudOw in Schoomaker it Jackson's
Spa here Will catry on the Watch and Jewelry
in '''' iT.s.uess there. A fine assortment of Jew
c., a' t-'7 constantly on hand. Watches. and
o'. ''''lt's carefully repaired. in the best style,
t toe 'shortest notice—ali work warranted.
s• ' 9:34
l ed '
ied ' HENRY J. OLMSTED, . '
,areci.s.SOß TO JAMES W. ,SMITH,)
/art ;11,Ell I N ,
mien ..A.,„, 4 STOVES,
.TIN & SHEET IRON
''',., ..:ain et opposite the Court
nen 4„ . -.1 nearly
[cat i , Th
__, Coudersport, Pa. Tin and Sheet
'' Ware made to order, in good style, on
. . 14 :t notice. 10:1
stii C OUDERSPORT HOTEL,
?..aL Assmlm, Proprietor,
*card Second Streets, Coudersport, Pot-
• , Pu tt .,
'o' itap t
u DER SPORT HOTEL,
G LASSMIRE, Proprietor, Corner of
aad Second Streets, Coudersport, Pot-
CO., Pa. 9:44
M. MILLS, Proprietbr, Cpleaburg
'tier Co., Pa., seven miles north of Cou
'4lrti the Wellsville Road. • 9:44
L INES :
Suggested by the Death of A. A. HILL, c;:iy
Daughter of Alezanier and EnzkyHill.
[PCBLISEIED 131 P.EQUEST.]
All around is bright and lovely;
Tranquil every pleasing scene;
But 0! I am sad and lonely—
Fresh my heart's wounds bleed again.
'Twas a sweet bud Heav!n bestow'd Me,
And I watched its slender form,.
Fearing some rude wind sweep o'er it—
Fever thinking of the worm
Which so oft at life's cure revels,
Undisturbed, because unseen,
Till its-work has well-nigh severed,
brightest petals from the stem. ,
Thus it was with little ARLAN—
Two bright Summers cheer'd my path,
But the up'ning of the third one '.
Found her motionless in death.
'Twas a sad and bitter moment
When the parting kiss I gave,
And the little form, enshrouded,
Yielded to the lonesome grave. •
But methinks a voice is speaking,
From yon blissful spirit land, '
And its tones, oh! how beseechin,g:.
"Come and join this heavenly baud;
Weep no more for little ARLAN—
Mine's a home beyond the skies;
'MoTumt! Fatherl come and join me,
:Where angelic songs arise."
HARRIET C. NOYES.
nym.): OF THE ATLANTIC CABLE
Bow, Science, bow thy head in awe,'
With fi ghtuing chain in hand,
Be still as through the ocean's depths,
Thou hind2st land to land. _
For thou hast wrought a miracle,
Next.to the Son of God.
Thou waikest demi on sea's dark floor
High on its waves HO trod.
He holds the lightning in the cloud,
And thou Within the wave,
And wind and wave, which yield to him,
Thou . hadst power to brave.
Then tremble thou before thyself,
So near to God akin,
That to thy hand His power comes,
And seems to dwell therein ;
And hushed and trembling thank the Lord,
For favor on thee shed, -
That thou thro' sea, with lightning chain,
Two Continents host wed.
Front (he Knickerlicker,fc:i 4 -pt.
A Common 'Woman's ENperl-
A WRITER in some modern magazine,
speaking of his heroine, has said : ‘ She
had an ideal of life and love, as all women
have; but, like almost •all women, had
neither the courage nor the integrity to
cleave to that/ ideal.'
It is a truth. He was a subtle student
in woman nature. And, bad he generous
ly added that woman may not go forth and
search: out her ideal as man may, and - may
not openly strive to win it as man, may,
we women would have read his word!with
I live in a quiet, inland town, and know
- tio people whose histories are 'culled ro
mantic and thrilling,. Still I know stories
of common lives whieh prove how dillieult
it is for women, unless they be surpassing
ly beautiful, or wealthy, or gifted, to obey
their best impulses of action, and to live
up to the code of conduct laid down for
them by men who think finely but Lave
never suffered. •
If Amelia Hall had not the beauty]
which belongs to the complete _woman,
she had her nature and her peculiar gen-1
ius. And I hold it is the most poetic or-1
der of genius which makes home a beau
tiful and happy place. The painter and
the writing poet have alvrayS' exquisite and
abundant Material with which to Work.
But woman (we speak of her in common
homes, not of her in a palace) has often
dingy things and doled supply with Which
to deal; but if she has genius, she always
creates a place to which man comes to rest.
All women . are said to resemble !some
flower, as all men some tree. ' AMelia
Hall was like a rose, one of these roses
which' haVe a centre of faint star-color and
single- tittle of pink petals as they spring
up wild on road-sides and meadows, but
which burst out with gorgeous, Odell
hearts and prudigality of crimson corolla
' if they are transplanted: to cultured gar
She was an English girl, an orphan, and
ctependent on the bounty of her uncle,
a rich old man who lived in my native
-I think it is a trait of all girls, whether
gay or peusive, to tell . to each other their
aspirations and ambitions.
• How often I remember what Amelia
Hall used to say,' remarked a friend last
week, recounting to me, the fates of vari
ous. dreamers. • While,some, of us hoped
to be poets, and one a queen, and one an
actress ; and another a traveller, and many
codtent to be rich men's wives, with splen
"did wardrobes and jewel-eases, the foreign
er used to say '0 American girls ! None
'6f you speak_of your homes nor of your
husbands ) unless to say they must be rich
COUDERSPORT, POTTER COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 26, 1858
and haudsome. Hear how I could .be
happy. I would have a home in a village
of white houses, wide, cool streets, parks,
and many gardens and fountains. lialf
a mile from the village each way, there
should be woods, and everywhere streams
of water and rustic bridges. I wish I
might have a husband dark, tall, hue, and
athletic as au Arab chief, chivalric as an
olden knight, tender in heart as a gentle
page, and gifted as the Grecian poets.
And unless I can have such a home and
husband, I will always remain Amelia
Hall, and work in uncle's dairy-route.'
remember how we used to laugh at the
Eng;ish girl for beingprosy and domes
Until she was twenty-four, Amelia Hall
waited; for her noble lover to thrive from
tht piCturesque village. She was content•
the while to make butter and cheese, and
to chat with the rustic young men of the
adjaceht farms: Until then she was con
tent, sandalled with the fairy shoon of fan
cy, to Walk in the foldimr parlors of her
porticoed and balconied 'future borne, to
arrange the flowers, pictures, and furni- .
tune, and at twilight to sit in the white
pillared portico, or to go down the avenue
of trees and watch at the Gothic gate for
the noble one beloved. As firmly and
coolly as if already affianced, she refted .
offer after offer from the wealthy and-hon
At this period her uncle lost his prop.
erty, and then his wife: Then they two
were penniless—he an invalid old man,
and she a poor, poor orphan. On her I
twenty-fourth birth-night, as she walked!
in the orchard as usual at sun-down, her!
uncle, 7 lame and querulous, joined her and
leaned on her arm. She saw Lope on his
poor old face. His voice was cheer as he
began : Well, Millie. Feel old maid-like ?
Twenty-four this minute and no loser ! Is
it. well, lassie ?'
Millie Smiled in her subdued fashion.
She looked down at tier face in the mirror
of the , brook. It was oval, smooth, and
'see, I see. You Englk keep well,'
said the old man quickly. 'But you'll
alter. lassie, when you have to work night
and day for bread and calico. What do
you mean to do to get these two things?'
and he eyed her cunningly,.
I shall work at something and take
care of us. I could teach, I think,' she
keep school for eight:or ten shillings•
a week ? Starvation wages, girl. It
I wouldn't keen us both. UT was out of
Ithe way it might do. But I've a 'much
better way, Millie. - Old Yale's son—the
one with horses, and chariots, and farms,
laud Mills, and 'houses— wants you 'fur a
wife. rie's been to-day talking with one
labout' you. Why don't you smile, girl ?'
I never could marry a man like George
Yale,' she said. .
He's the comeliest young man in town,'
the old man continued. He'd worship a
little lady-like woman like you. You
could wind him :wound your little finger
easier than you can that ribbon. He'll
always be a home wan. Cousidar him.'
She considered the stalwart farmer six
feet high, With his sun-burnt face and still,
constrained demeanor. dislike to think
of him, she said.
• ' Consider hitt), I say. I can't bear to
see you a slave fur me; you'll soon be a
miserable old woman. Marry hint and
have a home, and let me have a quiet
room to die in. Yes, I've heard the, girls
tell how you v , as going to marry a grand
talking gentleman. But I'll warn you
You'll live a disappointed old maid if you
wait fur this fancy man. Stop, not a word.
Think of it, think of it, before you make
a vow,' and he lnlbbled to the house mut-
Instead of Fancy, Reason spoke that
evening to Miss Romantic young
woman,' Reason said, 'do you know that
you have never seen this wall whom you
prettily' call 'mate r There are no such
meu•in your town, and I assure you, you
will never be known be 3 mid, its bounda
ries. Better accept the most eligible offer
you have while it is open.'
'But it is not in me to guide a man to
beauty and wisdom,' the heart earnestly
plead; '1 would be led to higher summits.
I shall only go back into the low-lands if
I obey yen, for I know I ;tin infinitely
superior to George lale and all his
'Don't talk metaphysics to me,' said
Rea Son coldly. I had rather know what
you think of waking day and night to
support yourself told your uncle win!e yuu
wait for this fancy man. \\ hat do you
think of your old uncle's dying in the
alms-house ? What do you think of be
coming a faded, old maid, eh ?—a faded
old maid, at whom, if he should meet her,
the great gentleman would not look?'
Millie sighed wearily. More softly Rea
son continued : 'ls it not better to be mis
tress of that comfort-full establishment?
Is it not better to give your poor uncle a
home, even at the sacrifice of a few tine
sensations ? Would it be too much for
his years , of care for you? Be assured,
Reason concluded in an awful tone, ' be
assured d have looked every way ; and
there is no wonderful knight on the road
coming to rescue you.'
Amelia Hall walked once more 'sad and
slow, sad and slo,' through that porticoed
and balconied house . of the future; she
paced once more down the avenue of ma
ples, and bathed in tears the hand of the
prince-like one who would have led her
back to sit. with him in the white pillared
portico. She locked the Gothic gate, and
brushed from the mystic sandals the dust
of the cool, wide streets of that lovely vil
lafre, and laid them away in a lonely room
of her heart, whose doors she barred. .
Then she prepared to • marry George
Yale. She wore no sacrificial air. Her
old uncle laughed like a boy and blessed
her with tearful eyes. She. was- woman
ly and sympathetic with her lover. She
interested herself in his rouhly-told plans.
He lost some of his ruggedness of manner
under her touch. and a little poetry talent
in his heart'flanied into life beneath her
gentle breath. With some pleasure she
mused : can change bin]. May be my
ltfe will not be so dreadful.'
She was married to him, and smiled as
some intimate friend reminded her of her
ideal home and husband.
In beautifying and keeping her home
beautiful, in infusing her delicate, tastes
into her husband's nature. Mrs. Yale found
a real and womanly pleasure. I 3 it she
ever.grew pale and angel-like: She waS
not strengthened ; she did net develop in
to the luxuriant double-rose.
They had been married three years when
they were visited by a distant kinsman of
Mr. Yale. Stanwix Mason was a profes
sor in a Southern academy. He was a
man of genius, and also a thorough man
of the world.. He was like Amelia Hall's
Of course he at once read the peculiar
disposition of the husband and wife. Then
he noticed the lady's still blue eye kindled
at a picture he drew of a Southern scene:
lie watched the veins throb in the white,
swelling temples as he talked on in the
picturesque style which characterizes his
books. A temptation glided to his side.
He saw how hale her beautiful arts of•
house-keeping were appreciated by her!
husband, (who, though he did love h 6
wife, was extremely matter-of-fact,) and
he dared to talk to her inihis wise as they
sat in the parlor one day : • I think you
are an exquisite artist, Cousin Ando. Do
you know I have been admiring the drap
ery of your rooms and your vases ever
since I came? I seldom see their like,
save in piiitures. I can read dreams of
yours in every bouquet you make for me.
Poets compose other things than poems.
I know something ofyour nature and your
history perhaps from that special little
library in yon white-drapod 'cabinet that
looks like a chapel where a lovely, lonely
lady might go to weep and pray.'
I do not know why you talk to me so
strangely, said Mrs. Yale coldly, her pride
starting up in arms before th►e locked doors
of her heart.
Pardon me, fair cousin,' he responded.
Become acquainted with me, and then ;
if I am worthy, confide in me.'
There were many evenings in which the
three sat together on the stoop, Mr. Yale
balancing his books. and the cousin read
ing aloud to the lady of the house froM
the Greek of Homer, and from Shaltqpeare
and the Browuings. The young wife was
exhilarated in the new atmosphere. She
grew gay and — beautiful. Her husband
was happy 4f the change, and the guest
grew wore (41-lii.d.
One night when this cousin bad read
and talked to .her until she was bewilder
ed by the beauty and light he poured up
on her soul, and when at parting for the
night, he raised her hands to his mouth
and kissed them, and murmured : Pour,
poor little Amie;' that night the thrilling
truth burst upon her. , She was beloved
by her cousin.
'roo.late, too late !' she cried sharply
as she - lied along the passage to her room..
An hour later, Stanwix Mason, pacing'
up and down the garden-walks, as was his
wont, saw through the open easement
Antic kneeling by her bed-side in prayer.
lie saw her rise serene and kiss the swar
thy brow of her husband. He understood
the peace in her eyes and turned away
with a thwarted face. The next day - he
smilingly bade them aduie for the South ;
and the husband and wife took up again
the even tenor of their still-gilding lives;
the houest-husband happy and Contented
with his home and wife, living his best
possible life, and she with half her nature
in chains and darkness—her greatest hap
piness that she had made others happy.
And multitudes of women like Amelia
Elan are called cowardly and mercenary,
while they are- really brave and unSeltish.
They are true to what they-deem duty, if
not to the instincts of their hearts.
RIGHTS OF WITNESSES,—The English LOrds
of. the Beach decided at Westminster, about a
month ago, that it wasa principle of common
law, that a counsellor, in questioning a wit
ness, should address him in ordinary tones
and in language of respect, such as is employ
ed by one gentleman in conversation with'aii
other ; that such lawyer has no right to ques
tion the private business or moral character
;of a witne4 any further than i is apparent
they absolutely affect his reliability, or touch
the case in hand; and that a witness is not
bound to an'swer questions put to him in an
instating - or], annoying manner. If forced to
!answer by the court Ile will have his remedy
lin an action for danufges. .
'Good Night." "Good Night,
These are the words whosd music has
not left our ears since the gleaming, and'
now it, is midnight. "Good night, dar
ling! God bless you •, you: willhave
pleasant dreams, though - I toss in kever,
haunted by the demons of care that har- -
ass we through the day. Good night."
The crock on the mantle struck twelve,
and no sound save the regular and easy
breathing of those little lungs in the nest j
room, heard through the door ajar. We.,
dropped our pen, folded our .arms; and!
sat gazing on the lazy fire, while the
whole panorama of a life passed before us, ,
with its many "good nights." - It is a
great thing to be rich, but, is a richer!
thing to have a good memory—provided 1
that memory.bears. no unpltiasant fruit,
bitter to the take ; and our memory car- j
ries us back to many a pleasant scene— 1
to'the little arm chair by the fireside; to 1
the trundle bed at the foot of the bed; to
the lawn in front of the house, to the but
cups, and the new cluVer, and the
chickens and the swallows, and the birds'
nests, and the strawberries, wind the-many
things that attract the wondering :eye of
1 childhood, to say notaing ofi the myster
ies of the starry skies, and the,. wierd
gloom of the moaning forest.'But, then,
there were the "good nighis," and the
little prayer, and toe downy bed, on which
tslumbei fell as lightly as
. a snow flake,
!only warmer, and such dreams as only
I visit perfect innocence ! The household
"Good night !" Somebody, in . whose
brain its rich music still lingers, has' writ
"Good night!" A loud clear voice
from the stairs said that it was Tommy.
“Dood night!" murmurs a little some;
thing from the trundle bed—a little some
thing that we call Jenny, that filled a
large place in the centre of two pretty
little hearts. "Good night !" lisps a-little
- fellow in a plaid dress, who was named
Willie about six years ago:
"Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my tool to keep,
If I should die before I wake"—
and the small bundle in the trundle bed
Las dropped off to sleep, but the broken
prayer may go up sooner than many long
petitions that set out a great while be
And so it was "good night" all around
the homestead; and very sweet music it
made, too, in the twilight, and very
pleasant melody it makes now, as we think
of it; for it was not yesterday, nor the day
before, but a long time ago—so long that
Tommy is Thomas Somebody, Esq., and
has forgotten I hat he ever was a boy, and
wore what the bravest and • richest of us
can never wear but once, if We try—the
first pair of boots.
And so it was "good night'? all around
the house; and the children had gone
through the ivory gate, always left a little
ajar for them—through iuto the land of
And then the lover's "Good night"
and the parting kiss ! They are as prod
igal of the hours as the spendthrift of his
Coin, and the minutes depart ip golden
showers, and fall in dyinz sparks at their
feet. "Good night."—S: Y. . Atlcts,
Mr. [kin's' Baby.-
The first baby was a ;peat institution.. As
soon as he came into this "breathing world,"
as the late W. Shakspenre has it, he took com
mand of our house. Everything was subserv
ient to him. The baby wiz the OA-ince:wheel
that regulated everything. He regulated the
temperature, he 'regulated the food,' he regu
lated the servants. he regulated me. For the
first six months of that precious existence, she
woke me upon an average of six times a night.
"Mr Blifkins," says my wife, "bring that
light here, do. the baby looks strangely ;,I'm
so afraid it'll have a fit!" Of course the lamp
was brought, and of course the baby lay suck
ing his fist like a little white bear. Its he was.
" Mr. Blifkins," said my wife, "I fluid> I feel
a draught of air; I wish you would get up
and see if the window is not open a little, be
cause baby might get sick." Nothing was
the matter with the window, as I knew very
well. " Mr. Blifkins," said my wife as I was
going to sleep again, "that lamp, as you have
placed it, shines directly in baby's eyes—
strange that you have no more consideration."
I arranged the light and went to bed again.
Jost as I was dropping to sleep again, "Mr.
Blifkins," said my wife, "did you buy that
bromaa to-day for the baby? "My dear.",
said I, " will you do me the injustice to believe
for ri moment that I could overlook a matter
so essential tO'the comfort of that inestimablt
child?" She 'apologized very. handsomely,
but made her anxiety the scapegoat. I for-,
gave' her, and without saying a word' more to
her, I addressed myself to sleep. ",Mr. Blif
k ns," said my wife, shaking me, "row must
not snore so; you will Wake the Tbaby.'—
" Jest so—jest so,' aaid I, half asleep, thinking
I wee Solon Shingle. "Mr. Blifkins," said my
wife, will you get up, and hand me the warm
gruel from - the nurse lamp, for ,bihy?—the
'dear child:if it Wasn't for its mother, I- don't
know what it would do t How can you sleep
so, air. Blifkins?" "I suspect,lmY dear, that
TERMS.-.-$1.25 PER ANNUM.
it is because am.tlred." t" Oh, it's,verytgell
for you men to-talk about being tired,", said:
my wife ; "I don't know what you'd Bah, if
you bad to toil and drudgelike a poor yeoniaa
with a baby." I tried to soothe her by telling
her that she had no patience at all, and getup
for the posset. flaying aided in answering
_requirements, I stepped into bed
again with the hope of sleeping. "Mr: Blif
kins," said mrwife. I made no answer. "Mr.
Blifkins I" said, she, in a louder key. I
nothing. "Oh dear ! " said that estimable=
woman, in great apparent anguish, "how gen:.
a man. who has arrived at the hottor :of hav , --
in - a live baby of hi 4 own; sleep, When ;he-
don't know that:the dear creature will livetill
morning?" I remained silent, rind, after. a"
while, deeming that Mrs. Blifkins had gone to:
sleep. I stretched my limbs for repose. llow,
long I slept, I don't know ; but I, was awel . s - - -
-ened by a furious jab in the forehead by some
sharp instrument. I started up, and Mrs.'
Blif kins was sitting up in the bed, adjusting
some portion of the baby's dress. She had, in,
a state of semi-somnolence, mistaken my head
for the pillow, which she customarily used for.
a pin-cushion. I protested againSt , suclt treat , '
meat, in pretty warm language,: pointing'- - te
'.several perforations in My forehead. She told
me I slif,uld willingly bear such trifling things,
fel the baby. I insisted (Ton it that . ..l:di3'rd
think my duty as a parent to that yonng im
mortal required the surrender of my head for
a pin-cushion. This was one of the frainy
nights passed in this way. The truth was,
that baby was what every other man's firgt.
'baby is—an autocrat—absolute and unliMtt-,
Such was the story of Blifkins, 419 10
related it to us' the other day. It is a lit
tle exaggerated picture of almost 'every
• Only Tight
BY VIRGINIA DE FORREST.
" How flushed, how weak he is 1 What
is the matter with him!"
" Tight ?"
" Yes, intoxicated."
"Only tight." Man's best and-great
est gift, his intellect degraded; the only .
power that raises him from brute creation;
trodden down under the foot of a debas-,
" Only tight," the mother stands- with
pale face and tear dimmed eye to see her
only sun's disgrace, and in her fancy pie
lure the bitter woe of which this is the
" Only, tight," the gentle sister whose
strongest love through life has been given . .
to her handsome talented brother, shrinks
with contempt and disgust from his em
brace, and brushes away the hot impure
kiss he prints, upon her cheek. -
"Only tight," and his young bride stops
-in the glad dance she is making to meet
him, and ehecks.the welcome on her lips
to gaze ip terror on the reeling form and
flushed face of him who was th 3 "god of
' her idolatry."
" Only tight, and the fathe'rs face grows
dark and sad as with a bitter sigh he stoops
over the sleeping form of his first-born.
He has brougiit sorrow to all these af
fectionate hearts; Jie has opened the door
to a fatal indulgence; he has brought him
self down to a level with brutes; he has
tasted, exciting the appetite to crave the
poisonous draught again; he has fallen
from high and . noble manhood, to babbling
idiocy, and heavy stupor; brought grief
to his mother, distrust to his sister, almost
despair to his bride, and bowed his father's
head with sorrow, but blame him not for
he is "only tight."—Bradley's Home Ga..,
WIIAT WOMAN SHOULD POSSES.-'
We call thetattention of our lady .readers
to the following catalogue from the
ian, the perusal of which must interest
them much: By holding this tableau in •
one hand and a mirror in the other, a we ! .
man can, in' less than two minutes - , rendei •
an exact account of her personal - charms.
Now, observe the improvement ! . There
are ladies IN,ho have come to fifty years.
without ever being able to know.positiVe
ly in what regard they are held-
To be esteemed beautiful, it is necessaryfor
a woman to have— .
3 white things-411e skin, teeth, - find hands;
3 black things—the eyes, eyelashes, and eye
brows ; .
3 rosy things--the lips, bosom, and nails;
3 long things—the body, hair, and hands;
3 short things—the teeth, ears, and tongue;
3 narrow things—the waist, mouth and in- .
3 broad things—the forehead, shoulders, and
3 small things—the nose, head, and, feet;.
" 3 delicate things—the fingers, lips, and.chin . ;
3 round things--the arm, leg, and dower;
In nil, 30 accomplishments, which coas . titute
a perfect woman. But pcifection is not of t his
world - ' . , .
A TRIBUTE TO PRINTERR.—.II IS in
deed encouraging to kvow that. printers
are occasionally duly appreciated. 'The
'Wowing extract fibm the report of the
CLunulittiae on Printing, of the Legisla
ture of Wisconsin, pays a refreshing ecitit
plituent to editors and printers. Read:
‘• We are not aware that printers - stud news:
paper proprietors are a class of so little use in
.the community or so destructive to its inter'.
eats, as to-be entitled-to but half coinpensa
tion for the labor- and services which -they
perform. But your committee do believe that,
no class of men-perform more gratuitous ser- t
vices for all general and local interests, or are '-
more effectually , engaged in disseminating in;
formation, Making known the resources of the
country, and inciting to action the energies of
the people, than ; the printers, proprietors said
editors of Ltewspapers:!