The Potter journal. [volume], July 09, 1857, Image 1

About The Potter journal. [volume] (Coudersport, Pa.) 1857-1872

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SLXGLE COPIFS, }■
VOLUME X. -NUMBER, 5.
THE POTTER JOURNAL,
tVMUIOZD EVERY THURSDAY HORSING, BY
Thos. S. Chase,
To whom all Letters and Communication!
thould be addressed, to secure attention.
Terms--Invariably In Advance:
51,25 per Annum.
Terms of' Advertising.
1 Square [lO lines J 1 insertion, - - - 50
i 44 " 3 44 - - - $1 50
Each subsequent insertion less than 13, 25
1 Square three months, ------- 250
1 44 six 44 - - 400
J 44 nine 44 550
1 44 one vear, ------- 6 00
Rule and figure work, per sq., 3 ins. 3 00
Srerj *ub3eqaeat insertion, ----- 60
1 Column six months, 18 00
j " 44 44 10 00
$ 44 44 44 700
1 44 per jear, 30 00
} 44 44 44 16 00
administrator's or Executor's Notice, 200
Auditor's Notices, each, ------- 150
Sheriffs Sales, per tract, 150
.Marriage Notices, each, ------- 100
.Business or Professional Cards, each,
not exceding d lines, per year, - - 500
9pccial and Euiionai Notices, per lino, 10 j
£iqP*All transient advertisements must be
advance, and no notice will be taken
el idviAaements from a distance, unless they
are accompanied by the money or satisfactory
reference.
WIL_I.AJ I J
———WIIIUAJITIMIIUSTI .IMIHIINAIFIMUMHIIWIR
JOHN S. MANN,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW
Couderaporr, Pa., w.i; attend Use several !
Courts in Potter and M'Keaa Counties. All '
business entrusted in his care will receive 1
prompt attention. Office on Main at., pppo
lite the Court House. lu:l
¥. W. KNOX, j
ATTORNEY AT LAW, Coudersport, Pa., willj
regularly attend the Courts in Potter aud (
the adjoining Counties. 10: i
A KTH Lli G7 OLM SXL i>, ~
ATTORNEY k COUNSELLOR AT LAW,
Coudersport, Pa., will attend to all business
entrusted to his care, with prompmes and
fidelity. Office in Temperance Clock, sec
ond floor, Main St. 10:1
„ i
ISA4U JBKNSUX,
ATTORNEY AT LAW. Coudersjiort. Pa., will
attend to all business entrust#4 W bias, will*
care and promptness. AJl£cv corner of West
aud Third sts. 10:1
L. P. WILLISTON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW, Weßsboro', Tioga Co.,
Pa., will attend the Courts in Potter and
M hi an Counties. 0:13
" A. P. CONE, j
ATTORNEY AT LAW, Wejlsboro', Tioga Co.,
Pa., will regular!/ attend the Courts o;
Potter County. 9:13
H- W. BEXTO.V,
SCSVEYOR AND CONVEYANCER, Ra< -
Muud P. 0., (Allegany Tp.,J Potter Co., Pa.
will attend to all business iu his line, with
care and dispatch. 9:33
W. K, KiSG,
SURVEYOR, DRAFTSMAN AND CONVEY
ANCER, Smethport, MEean Co., Pa., will
attend to business for non-resident land
holders, upon reasonable leruis. Kelereu
ces giren if yequked. p. ss.—*Mapj of an _>
part of the County iuade to order, 9;iu
0, T. EWSON,
PRACTICING PHYSICIAN, Coudersport, Pu
respectfully informs the citizens oi the v:1
lage aud vicinity that he will prouiply re
spond to all calls for professional service .
Dihce on Main st., in tiuilding formerly o
cupied by C. W. Ellis, Esq. 9:33
C. a. JOKES. LEWIS MANX. A. F. JOKES.
JONES, MANN A JONES,
DEALERS IN DRY GOODS, CHOCK KEY, I
Hardware, Boots & Sbocs, Groceries uud
Provisions, Main St., Coudersport, Pa.
10:1
COLUKI EM'TH. X. A. JONES.
SMITH A JONES,
CULMS IN DRUGS, MEDICINES, PAINTS,
OUa, Fancy Articles, Stationery, Dry Goods,
Groceries, Ac., Main at., Coudersport, Pa.
10:1 I
V. E. OLMSTED, J
DEALER IN DRY GOODS, READY-MADE
Ciouung. Crockery, Groceries, Ac., Main St.,
Coudersport, pa. 10; I
M. W. .MANN,
DEALER IN BOOKS A STATIONERY, MAG
AZINES and Music, N. W. corner of Main
Third sts,, Coudersport, Pa. 10;1
ERH ARLLIN GTON,
JEWELLER, Coudersport, Pa., having engag
ed a window in Sclioouiaker A Jacksou's
Store will cajry on tue Watch and Jewelry
huiineaa there. A line assortment of Jew
elry constantly on hand. Watches and
-hwclry carefully repaired, in the best style,
fa the shortest uotice—ail worn warranted.
a:J4
HENRY J. OLMSTEH,"
(BUCCKSSOH TO JAMES W. SMITH,)
DEALER IN STOVES. TIN At SHEET IRON
ARE, Mam ot,, uca.l*' Opposite tue Court
oouse, Coudersport, Pa. Tin'and Sheet
Ironware made to order, in good stjle, on
_ hort nptice. lu;l
cou DERSPORTHOTEL7
GLASS.MIUE, Proprietor, Corner of
*in ana Second Streets, Coudersport, Poi-
Co., Pa. 9:44
ALLEGANY HOUSE,
&AMU EL M. MILLS, Proprietor, Colesburg,
ottr Co., Pa., seven miles north of Cou-
Mrtport, on the Wellsville Road. 9.44
' THE PLAY THINGS.
CHILD.
Oh, mother, hero's the very top
That brother used to spin ;
The vase with seeds I've seen him drop
To call our robin in :
The line that held his pretty kite,
His bow, hia cup and ball,
The slate on which he learned to write,
The feather cup and all.
KOTBEE.
My dear, I'd put the things away,
Just where they were before ;
Go, Anna, take him out to play,
And shut the closet door.
Sweet innocent I he little thinks,
The slightest thought expressed
Of him that's gone, how deep it sink 3
Within a mother's breast.
DEAL GENTLY Win! THE LITTLE ONE 3.
A child, when oskei w.iy a certain tree grew
crooked, replied, "Somebody trod upon it, I
suppose, when it was little."
"He who checks his child with terror.
Stops its play and stills its song,
Not atone commits an ERROR.
Cut a grievous moral wrong.
Give it play and never fear it;
Active life is no defect ;
Never, never break its spirit;
Crush it only to direct.
Would you stop the flowing river,
Thinking it would cease to flow ?
Onward must it flow forever ;
Cetter teach it where to go."
Messrs. Editors: —W ere the sentiments incul
cated in the above morceau univerully adopted
by parents, it would save from crusliiug many
a little heart. Please give them currency in
| the columns of your widely exctended and very
J useful paper, and you will aid the cause of
humanity as 4 oblige a reader. A. G.
—yat tonal lutelligsnetr.
Sab.
JLifc at 3
[From the Knickerbocker for June.]
THE MASQUERADE OF
HATE.
Sister Rose and I were at Newport;
last summer; hence the title of this story, j
When in my comfortable, quiet, yet;
beautiful home on the Susquehanna, I
read 44 My Novel," I came upon this pas-,
sage:
• In the Gothic age grim Ilumor paint
ed 'the Dance of Death,' in our polished
century some sardonic wit should give us:
• tt
100 '.Mas jijerade of Hate.' "
There, su-rouuded with comfort, lux
ury a;: J beauty; with that feeling of se
curity winch one's home givs, all about
:ue; the bad passions had retired into the
background of my imagination and lived
there, shadows without for.a or reality;
and I thought, as I read this passage,
how over-strained, unreal and melo-dra
matic it was. Yet L could not forget it!
A Masquerade of Hate ! Everything
about me suggested peace. The river,
broad, beuificent and tranquil, flowed ev
er onward for good. The trees, the flow
ers, the sky ; all was beauty ; all was han
diwork of Love; yet I read agaiu the
words of the great master of Euglish ro
mance, and an inward voice told me that
I should one day recognise a truth iu
thein.
The fine passage follows: "Love is
rarely a hypocrite. But Ilate —how de
tect, how guard against it! It lurks
whore you least suspect it; it is created
by cau*oi that you can the least forsee;
and civilization multiplies its varieties,
while it favors it. disguise; for civilization
increases the number of contending inter
ests, and refinement renders more sus.
ceptible to the least irritation the cuticle
of self-love. But hate comes covertly
forth from some self-interest we have
crossed, or some self-love we have wound
ed ; and, dullards that we are, how seldom
we are aware of our offence ! You may
be ha tad by a man you have never seen
in your life; you may be hated as often
by one whom you have loaded with ben
efits ; you may so walk as not to tread on
a worm; but you must sit fast in your ea
sy-ohair until you are carried out to your
bier, if yuu would be sure not to tread on
some snake of a foe."
Hate! a word I had almost forgotten.
My own past, how secure it had been
from the ugly monster thus startlingly
to tijg of Jirqe SsifOiJSfycjj, <o]) tlje cf bjoriilitp, qi)b "({c&s.
COUDERSPORT, POTTER COUNTY, PA,, THURSDAY, JULY 9, 1857.
summoned before me by the wand of the
enchanter! I remembered how guarded
my youth had been, the child of prosper
ity, the early loved. I had koown no
sorrow, scarcely disappointment, until a
great grief came and shrouded me as with
a vail from any other experience, for I
was now thirty, and had been ten years
a widow.
The few years of society and the gay
world which came between my school
days and early marriage were so bright,
so full of pleasure, that I looked back up
on "society" as a laud full of beauteous
images, fair women, great men, sensible,
brilliant, witty conversation, music, dan
cing, all that can charm the imagination
and the senses, a refined luxury giving
richness to the picture, an early love lend
ing it romance and poetry.
When the chief figure was stricken out
of this picture, I never wished to look
upon it again. I knew that in looking
upon the brilliant surface I should see
1 only that void. So I had lived a quite,
1 retired life, surrounded only by the near
| est aud dearest friends, until grief had
' become melancholy, and finally, perhaps,
!only something less than that; bat the
! world I had forgotten.
Was then this brilliant pageant, called
'society, bat a masquerade? Wore men
and wo uen bowing, smiling, caressing
and entertaining each other but to for
ward their own interests? Was there a
skeleton at every feast ?—and hidden by
a mask of polite and elegant demeanor,
did jealousy, distrust, scaudal, detraction
walk among the guests ?
Hate! a potent word ; it colored the !
landscape, it darkened the sun, it gave to i
the soft summer breeze a harsh aud se-;
vere sound. I felt as if a disagreeable j
presence had stolen into my life and shut
out the tranquility and happiness; when j
there appeared walking on the green- :
sward beneath my window, Sister Rose.
No disagreeable presence was sister
Rose. She banished hate and brought
back light to the sun; music to the breeze.
Sister Rose was seventeen; sweet, beau
tiful, and colored like the rival flowers of
York and Lancaster; she was the young
est, fairest bud on our ancestral tree; and
though thirteen years separated her
from me, we were sisters in the fondest,
truest sense, in mutual confidence and
love, dashed with a sort of <n iternal au
thority on my part, a sort of deferential
dauglit orhood on hers.
She was all the warld to me, dear sis
ter R jse !
Mrs. Gibson walked by sister Rose on
the green. Mrs. Gibson was a gtv lady,
who had come to pay us a visit. As they
walked, their conversation floated up to
me through the still June air.
''And Newport is so delightful?" ask
ed sister Rose.
"Oh ! perfectly delightful. The cli
mate of Italy and the best people in the
United Stages. Such a charming set of
people in the cottages, yes, and pal
aces too! Such gay scenes at the
Bellevue, the Fillmore; the Ocean is a
little too fast, perhaps, but very nice peo
ple there, too. • Such drives ! such bath
ing, such dressing, such a dear old pic
turesque town ! Oh ! there is nothing like
Newport—nothing ! nothing !"
"I should so like to go !" said Rose.
"And why not ? Make Mrs. Clifton
take you. Plenty of money, youth, beau
ty, good family; you should go! Cone
to Philadelphia with me, and we shail
get a beautiful wardrobe prepared and—
nous verrom /"
' But I do not believe sister Laura
would like to leave her retirement; she
has been quiet so long 1"
"But she must not be quiet; she is
shutting you out from that world to which
you belong. In the name of that wrong
and bereft world I claim you, and you
must come, She must give you up !"
So afterward argued Mrs. Gibson at
greater length, so gently urgod Hose.—
So finally my own judgment told mo that
Rose should peep at the world—that
great, entrancing, sparkling world, only
faintly foreshadawei to her in the dan
cing school balls, the accounts of Mrs.
Gibson, the magazine stories !
Armed and equipped with dresses,
French maid, (whom we found a horrible
tyrant,) tad accompanied by Mr.'. Gib
son and a large party of her friends, we
found ourselves rather startled and un
comfortable at Newport one hot day in
; August. Hot ? no, not so very hot, but
dusty, uncomfortable. Everything was
new; our dresses were new and rather
tight; our crinoline was prodigious; our
I heads, accustomed only to our own dres
sing, were screwed into unimaginable tor
meat by our maid Matilde. In this state
I ate my first dinner and took a survey.
Fortunately our dresses (thanks to Mrs.
Gibson, who had taken a contract to dress
us as if we were two French dolls, and;
had fulfilled it to admiration,) were very:
handsome. We were spared the huinili-'
ation of finding ourselves badly dressed 1
iat Newport, perhaps one of the greatest i
of the pctitca miseres of life! We had
good rooms; we were introduced right
and left; we had the golden key which
unlocks exclusive Fashion's innermost
wicket-door—we had money !
Another advantage we had, we were
new. A something to do is the great
want of the Newport habituh, and a
-something to talk about, the absolute ne
;ce.ssity. For a few days we furnished
I them occupation ; at the end of three, Mrs. i
Pas ton, who sat opposite us at table, knew
all about us; that we had a distant rela
tive in the Cabinet of one of the Presi
dents; that we had so much (and no !
more) money; what the family politics
were; what religion we professed; and
.Mrs. Patson sought our acquaintance,
and we entered on the Newport course
with heavy bets on our success.
Shadow of Sutherland! did you rise
before me to suggest that equine simile ? ;
Well, to return to my first dinner: j
next me sat Mr. Gibson, a man whese
vision, though straight enough as to the j
physical eye, was singularly oblique when i
coutemplated with that second set of op
tics which we all possess, and which looks
beyond and behind the other. To have;
contemplated Mr. Gibson with this sec
ond pair of eyes, (which never grow fee-;
ble with years, and only need spectacles
in extreme youth,) one would have seen
that he was aflicted with a sort of moral
strabismus, and that some things were
lamentably confused to him, while others
were peculiarly adapted to his angle of
vision; for instance, Mr. Gibson never
failed to sec what he defined as a "person
of consequence," and was as blind aa Beli
sarius to a person of "ao consequence."
Perhaps, however, he was as good a cic
erone at Newport as I could have had,
though fur "guide, philosopher and
friend," in any other sphere, I should not
have chosen liiiu.
"Who is that young man who looks so
much like a horse?" I asked of Mr. Gib
son.
"My dear Mrs. Clifton, how can you
say such things ? That is Mr. Suther
land, a young man of the greatest conse
quence ! He is very rich, very aristo
cratic, a little given to gaming, and they
say, rather too fond of horse-racing, and
such little expensive amusements; how
ever, if he doesn't injure his fortune, no
matter; he will soon have sown his wild
oats."
"He looks to me as if he were in the
habit of eating them."
"He ! he"' said Mr. Gibson, who nev
er laughed sincerely at any joke at an
aristocrat.
"And who is that little woman who
looks so much like a poodle-dog*'"
"Now, Mrs. Clifton, you are too bad!
That is Mrs. Smithson, the most exclu
sive womau here. Allow me to say, that
if Mrs. Saiithson and 31 rs. Fasten ask to
be introduced to you, your fortune is
made ! I mean at Newport!"
I must confess I was a little angry at
the imagined condescension of these la
dies ; but I knew 3fr. Gibson, and I for
gave hitu, for I remembered his stra
bisuius.
"Who is the lovely woman with roses
in her hair, who is taking such care of
the stupid little man by her side?"
"Ah! that is Mrs. 3lorris Borrowe,
the beauty, the petted of fortuue, so
amiable, so careful too ! Never hear any
thing against 3lrs. 3lorrcs Borrowe ! and
the little man, twice her age, is 3lr. 3lor-
Borrowe, married by au ambitious
mother; every one said too bad ; but im
mensely rich. She really seems to like
him though; perhaps wary and deep—
don't kuow ; these iunoceat looking ones
are the ones sometimes, Mrs. Clifton, he I
he!"
If Mrs. Morris Borrowe was a " deep
one ' she was very deep, for innocence
and truth sat enthroned on her face, and
kindness beamed from her whole demeau-
" Who is that fine intellectual man
down the table ?"
44 Ah! Warden Wood, very distinguish
ed but not a marrying man."
44 Aud the blink-eyed youth ?"
44 Mrs. Paston's son; very good dan
cer. "
44 And the nice-looking party beyond.
I mean the father and daughter?"
44 D0 N'T KNOW THEM," answered Mr.
Gibson with withering enunciation. I
wonder if any de caption of type can give
the force of this remark which Mr. Gib
son gave. It was as if the destroying
angel said to shivering wretches on the
brink of the gulf: 44 Go down, and never
hope to rise! Twice wretched wretches,
go down ! down ! DOWN !"
There is nothing in Milton moreterrif
fic than this sentence, pronounced by
your true worldling. It says unimaginable
things, and little as I know of the world,
I felt a solemn conviction that that father
and those daughters were driven out of
the inner world of fashion as utterly as
was Lucifer ejected from Paradiee.
Sister Rose had a distinguished suc
cess the first dinner, for Mr. Sutherland,
who sat oposite, began to stare at her.—
Poor Rose, looking up unconsciously,
saw his eyes fixed upon her, and looking
down, blushed over face, neck and arms.
Sutherland was not accustomed to that
sort of thing ; the coy maidens at whom
he generally stared were past blushing,
aud he doubtles had a sensation very like
that which a thirsty traveller experiences
when he finds a fresh strawberry by the
side of a dusty road—he intended from
that moment to refresh himself with the
unexpected fruit.
Mr. Gibson found it out immediately.
" See " he exclaimed, Sutherland is star
ing at Rose ! that is an immense com
pliment. "
"An immense insult," said I, takiug
fire at once.
" "Now, Mrs. Clifton, b2 quiet: my good
friend, you do not know this world as I
do. Why, men will look at handsome
girls, and Sutherland is a little spoiled ;
but a mau of such position ! Do listen to
reason, and be quiet. If you want to have
Rose see society, you must not quarrel
with it at onee because so ue of its mod-
ern innovations do not square with your
very retired and peculiar notions. "
" But, Mr. Gibson, my 'retired notions,'
as you please to call them, have been
considered the rules of gentlemanly con
duct siuce the world was young. Why.
what did chivalry mean ? what does po
etry, romance, mean ? what does civiliza
tion mean, if not, that man being strong
shall protect, yes, graciously and respect
fully protect, woman, and not insult her
—stare "
" You talk very well, dear Mrs. Clif
ton, I don't doubt, uncommonly well; but
it has no sort of effect at Newport—not
the least, not the least ! You might talk
forever about chivalry, but I rather think
nobobv, at least not the young men,
would know what you me int; and if they
did they would not eare, no. not they.
They would stare just as much, and the
girls don't dislike it—he! he ! Mrs. Chi
ton!"
Well, I thought 1 would swallow my
disgust and bear with " modern innova
tions. " I had come to Newport; I was
undoubtedly rustic; my ideas might
change.
After dinner I was presented to sever
al ladies. They were faultlessly dressed.
handsome, many of them tine musicians
and good linguists, and I anticipated
much pleasure. What were the subjects
we talked about? The rival claims of
the different houses!
There with the " far-resounding sea "
singing immortal anthems in our ears,
with a night over our heads such as Lord
Byron writes verses about, and compares
{ FOUR CEXTS.
TERMS.--$1,25 PER ANNUM.
(as somebody ireverently says) to " a
black-eyed woman," these educated ac
complished creatures could fiud nothing
to say but on the all-important point of
which was the most fashionable, the Fill
more or the Bellevue!
I asked Mrs. Patson who was the fine
looking woman in blue whom I saw in
the parlor.
"Oh ! that is Mrs. Akerly, an old
friend of mine; but we d J not speak now,
for we are at the rival houses 1"
The tyranny of ideas is a power which
knows no limits. It made Martin Luther
fling his inkstand at the gentleman in
black ; it sent Napoleon to £>t. Helena;
it is the force which drives men to the
Crimea to starve and die ; aud it descends
so low that it even makes the women hate
each other, because they charge them
selves with the honor of two rival tav
erns !
Sister Pvose had a success; Sutherland
admired her; other youug men followed ;
she evinced perpetually, had flowers, and
all the insignia of bellehood. She enjoyed
it; it was her right; I could but admire
the woman's iustiuct which taught her
so readily what to do with her newly-ac
quired honors. She was gay, but reserv
ed with Sutherland, whose character she
read at a glance; she was amused with
the satirical Warden Wood; she liked
(L feared to much) Tracy, a well-appoint
ed youth, who followed her much; but
she bore her blushing honers well. I
had never been beautiful like Rose, and
I enjoyed the sweet power it gave her,
for her sake and my own.
All was goingou well. I was bathing,
talking, amusing myself with the new
revelations which society was teaching
me; and although my high ideal of the
conversatiou and elevation of that sect
began to give way to a reality somewhat
low, I enjoyed myself. There is a fascia
atiou in a gay pagaut, whether you hud
meaning in it or not.
One profound discovery I had made,
which was this : if you would succeed in
society, you must at least preteni to b*
a fool !
[Conclusion next
fjjritultimil
SUMMER MANAGEMENT or SIIEER.—IN
the spring do not turn your sheep into the
pasture until it is well up, or uutil it is
ankle high, so as to have something to
shade the ground; keep your sheep close
and feed hay aud grain of some kiud
they will eat it well if kept from grass.—
When put upon pasture, have three or
more tie Ids aud change them often, so that
their pasture may be sweet. I have
known a neighbor loose three hundred
sheep out of six hundred in one summer,
lie divided them into three large fields,
with no shade except what the fence on
the south side of each field made. The
sheep lay along the fence, and when the
nose fiy came, the sheep were to be secu
running with their noses to the ground
fighting the fly. and eatingoulyjust enough
to keep life in them. The sheep did not
go more than eight or ten rod 3 from the
fence and this was eaten close to the ground,
when there was plenty of pasture ou the
north side of the field; as a couscpieuce,
the sheep poisoned themselves in their own
filth. The fiy laid its eggs in the nostrils
of the sheep, and they-soon died in groat
numbers of "worms in the head."
Now, you would ask, how should hesave
his sheep? He should have put the.u all
into one field aud forced them to go far
ther from the fence; and about two or
three days after the first shower he would
have ehauged them into another field.—•
Whenever you see your sheep run with
their uoses down to the ground drive them
to your farthest pasture; the fly will stay
about where the sheep have lain. Keep
changing the from field to field and you
will not be troubled with "worm in the
head. ' — Correspondent of the Gennesiee
Farmer.
WHEN DOEO WOOL GROW?—I answer,
when it is wanted to cover the sheep and
keep it warm. From the time the sheep
is sheared until the frost comes you can
see the shape of every clip of the shears;
when the frost aud cold weather come,
it grows out immediately. Now, it you
wish for a heavy clip, teed when the wool
is growing. It you have any extra feed,
then is the time to use it. The wool
draws very hard upon the carcass, and
growing out fast deceives almost every far
mer. They think their sheep are doing
well when they aregrowing poor. I can
make an additional pound of wool with
i one bushel of corn, aud ray sheep will af
terwards winter one bushel of corn easier.
Let your sheep get poor while the wool is
growing, and you cannot recruit them un
til tire next summer. — J. D. Chamber
lain, Gennessee Farmer.