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VOL. XXIII. LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 4, 1849. NEW SERIES, VOL. XI-NO. 18. PUBLISHED BY EDWAftD C. DARLINGTON. OFFICE IK KOBTH QUEEN STREET. The EXAMINER & DEMOCRATIC HERALD is publiaheJ weekly at two dollaes a year. ADVERTiTK.iiENTS not ejtseeding one square will be inserted threa times tor one dollar and twenty-five cents will bo charged for each addi¬ tional insertion. A liberal discount allowed to those who advertise by the year. From the Lady's Book for April. By DAVID M. STO.VE. ¦ CHAFTER I.—DISiPPOIXTMENT AND ENNUI. ' There is no such thing as disinterested love in woman !' said Frank Pendleton, as he threw himself upon lhe sofa in his elegantly furnished apartment, and covering his face wjth his hands, groaned aloud. It was near two o'clock of an April morning, and Frank bad just returned from a fashionable party, one of the few given every year in our "good city at tbe close of Lent. The coachman, .. who had driven him to and from many a gay revel, as he sat liim down a few moments before at the door of his elegant boarding-house, was surprised at the sternness with which he declined his offer to ring the bell, and as he saw him open the door with his night-key, and close it after him with a full sweep ot his arm, he shook his head and muttered to himself—' Something be gone wrong with Massa Pendleton, dat certain.' It was true, something had gone wrong with llinl, and by casting our eyes a little backward upon his history, we shall see what it was. Frank Pendleton was young, accomplished, rich, and a bachelor. He was left an orphan, and sole heir to a large estate, when in his six¬ teenth year ; bul he fell into good hands, and was not, therefore,altogetlier spoiled. His guardian, although not a relative, was a wise and judicious man, and finding Frank not unwilling to contin¬ ue bis studies, he encouraged him in bis purpose to acquire a collegiate education. Thus he was duly entered at Princeton, soon after his father's death, from which University he had graduated about a year previous to the time our story com¬ mences, with all the honors—and, what was still better, an unblemished reputation. As he did not choose to stndy a profession, and had now attained his majority, he was soon launched inlo the whirlpool of society. His fine, manly form, his intellectual face, with its broad, white fore¬ head and dark haze! eye, his elegant manners— and, more than all, (pardon nie, dear ladies,) his large property, made his presence not only every¬ where welcome, but particularly sought for by all intriguing mammas and sighing belles. A pile of cards and notes of invitation were every day laid on his table j not a party-list was made out among his acquaintances without his name, and in the crowded assembly all were pleased with, and many eager for, the slightest notice or atteniion from him. But all this hom* age, strange as it may seem, did not turn his brain. He mingled, it is true, with the gay throng of revelers—he joined in the dance, or listened, without any tokens ot disgust, to . the flatteries that assailed his ear from every quarter, but his heart was not with them. In secret, he sighed for a quiet home, where with one dear companion (how often through his mind's eye bad he pictured her to himself!) he might enjoy the realities of life, undisturbed by the noise and :=i%!:';glitter of the artificial. ^i^i-^ 1 know there are those who think that there is nothing T«aZ in life but pain, and disappointment, and death ; and that to avoid a consciousness of these, it is wisest to keep up a perpetual round ot gay seemimgs, and thus forget all that we can of life's troubles, until we come to its closing scene. But Frank Pendleton knew better ; he had witnessed in the home ot his childhood—ero the dear names of father and viother^U^i come to be nothing bul sweet memories—niitiyasoene ot domestic bliss. He knew thai there was mean¬ ing in the words of love and breathings of affec¬ tion which had fallen on his infant ear, and that tho ties whicll bind husband to wife, parent to child, friend to friend, around the quiet household hearth, were not fetters galling to the spirit, but cords of love, drawing out all the sweet charities that grace can nurture in the heart of our fallen humanity. ^t how should he take thc first step towards securing such a home ? Where, among the daughters of earth, could he find a being to match * immage in his heart V He looked carefully over the Ust of his unmarried lady friends ; but the closer his scrutiny, the smaller grew the num¬ ber from whicll he felt willing' to select, until il was narrowed down to one; and she, he fondly hoped, would prove to be the one for whom he '-¦J^il^tJ^loag been sighing. He could find no flaw ¦ 'iSlier person or manners. He had not stipula¬ ted with himself for absolute beauty, but even if he had, here was no lack, for her features were nearly faultless. Her disposition, too, seemed amiable, and her heart was full of the kindliest impulses of our nature. But there was one trial more He had always dreaded lest some schem¬ ing girl should seek to marry him for his fortune, and ha determined to prove her here. He, there¬ fore, commissioned one of his most intimate friends to hint to the lady, confidentially, that he was about to lose his estate through some defect in tbe title, to see whether it would make any difference in her apparent estimation of him.— This had been done on the very day ot the party and he had pictured to himselt her disinterested affection rising superior to every consideration of mere dollars and cents, and holding him dear for himself alone. It is true, he had never told her his love, but his marked preference tor her was well understood among bis friends, and he had hoped that she would meet him on that ovenino- wilh a look of peculiar tenderness, which should say, • Though fortune leave thee, yei will not I.' Alas, for his self-love ! What was bis sur¬ prise to see a sneer ou her beauiiful lips as she met him in the gay saloon, and to encounter a cold glance of scorn from her hiiherlo loving eye! He was too proud to show his disappointment before so many watchful eyes, and therefore he laughed with the lightest and flirted with the gay¬ est, until a laie hour, being one of the last to leave the brilliant scene. Then, with an aching hearl, he sought his chamber : once b/ himself, a full sense of her seeming heartlessness came over him, and he uttered the exclamation with which this chapter opened. • There is no such thing as disinterested love in woman. Al least,' he added, ' there is noth¬ ing but heartlessness in this cold city. If I were in the eountry and kept sheep, perhaps I might find some pure-hearted milkmaid who would love me .'" Whether the fair maiden, whom he had begun to love, was really too selfish to marry a man with a reduced fortune, or whether (which lo my mind is more likely), she saw through the putposo of the story, and scorned him for his suspicions, we may never know; but he was mis. taken in supposing that the city i, more heartlesi than the conntry. There be beans as warm and true under the rich brocade as under the coarse homespun; but perchance they are not so open, and it requires more skill to stir their deep sym¬ pathies. Because the gay company to which he had been accustomed, assumed an air of kindn^ and courtesy when their hearts were not touched. he took it for granted that they had no hearts. . He knew not how many of those whom he condemned yearned, like himself, to be free from the slavery of chilling forms, and to pour out the treasures of their affection into some loving heart. We are all ot one parentage j and though the voice ot love that would be uttered in worda of burning eloquence in a tropical clime, may stam¬ mer as we approach the poles, still, wherever or however it may be uttered, it may still find an answering echo in somo kindred heart—for we are all formed to love. Bul Frank Pendleton had been disappointed, and, like others suffering from the same cause, he chose to blame all rhankind ralher than him¬ self. He did not once ask ot his conscience it the trick he had put upon the lady was nol selfish and heartless, and himselt rightly punished in the result. He rose, at lasl, from tbe sofa, and walked to and fro in the room, al first in hasty strides, and then with a slower and raore irresolute step. He felt lost in the perfect blank to which his life had suddenly beeu reduced. There seemed be¬ fore him no objeci tor which to strive, and he al¬ most cursed the ample fortune which he fancied had shut him oul, not only from disinterested love, but from the great struggle of lite wherein he might occupy his mind and bury the remem¬ brance ot his sorrows. What were these thoughts but the stirrings of liisimmortal nature, breaking through the weighi ot mammon and the tetters of self-complacency, to teach liim the lesson which all votaries of the world must learn soon¬ er or later, that life's pathway is a weary pilgrim¬ age instead ot a garden of delights. At last a way seemed open before him. ' What,' said he,' it I go among strangers, leaving behind me the knowledge of my posses¬ sions, excepi so far as I carry the secret in mine own bosom ?— surely I can win some fond heart to love me for myself alone. Eureka ! I have found il!—I will go to some quiet New England village J for they say that the simplest of the Yankee girls are full ot rare intelligence, and as modest as they are gifted.* Fnll of this determination, he drew out and opened a large trunk, into which he packed a portion ot his wardrobe, and a few choice books and, having made all ready for his departure, he threw himselt upon the bed and fell into a sound sleep. CHAPTER II.—THE COUNTRY. It was nearly eight o'olock the next morning when the servant knocked at his door, to inquire if he was ready for breakfast. He sprang from his bed, and drawing aside ihe curtains looked forth trom the window. The previous day had been cloudy and unusually cold for the season i but the chiJl and the gloom were now gone, the glad sun shone forlh in his beauty, and even in the city every living thing seemed to have ac¬ quired renewed elasticity. He half repented of his sudden resolution as he looked out upon the brighl scene ; bul then there came, like a shadow across his mind, the memory of his bilter di»ap- pointment, and he delermined to adhere to his purpose. Hastily dressing himself, he wrote a note to his man of business^ dispatched his break fast, and al nine o'clock, without having taken leave of a single friend, was on his journey. He spent the following night in New York, and at six the nexl morning was on board the New Ha¬ ven as she cut hor path through the blue waters of the Sound, toward the cily after which she was named. He had formed no purpose as to what part of New England he would visit: and the place he finally selected, came lo be chosen as il were, by chance. The boat reached New Haven aboul eleven, and on the wharf nearest the landing was a large stage coach waiting for passengers. He knew nat which way it was going; but feeling certain thai in these days ot railroads a place must be comparatively secluded to which the readiest access was by a stage coach, he determined to take passage in it, go where it would. His baggage was accordingly transferred to its capacious boot, and he look a seal inside. The coach, after picking up two passengers in the city, and stopping at the post- office for the mail, started off on its journey. Ah, thou dear New England ! how I love the rugged roads that pass over lliy rugged hills—to strangers so wearisome. How forcibly do they remind me, that in spite of the ups and downs of our mortal life, he that presses onward warily and cheerily, slill comes to the right goal al last. Il was near six o'clock as our traveller, after a ride of only eighteen miles, which, including all the stops and hindrances, had consumed over five hours, entered the defile leading to the vil¬ lage of 0 . This village has a singular sit¬ uation, being pent in on all sides by high hills, and bursting upon the traveler, who approaches il from the south, with a suddenness almosi startling. A merry, dancing rivulel issues from a defile in the mountains, and after being stop¬ ped here and there in its course, and made lo do servile work for man, still, with a spirit and me¬ lody unsubdued, dashes on to join with otVier streams in their course to the great sea. The road to the village meets this rivulet and winds along ils banks, now on this side, now on that, as it a bridge had been easier to construct than an j embankment, until it enters the very narrow de¬ file from whence the stream issues. Here it is thickly embowered with trees, and the stream hidden trom the eye by its drooping branches, is only betrayed byits ever babbling music. As you follow this defife for a fourth of a mile in its winding course, it suddenly widens, curving outwards to the width of a halt a mile, and meet¬ ing the road again nearly two miles to the north¬ ward, thus forming a sweel basin, in which lies the village, with a population of somo eighteen hundred or two thousand souls. It was, as I said, about six o'clock as our tra¬ veler entered the village. The sun was just sinking behind the high western hills, and cover¬ ing the summits ot the eastern range wilh a man¬ tle of gold, while the village itself lay in a shad¬ ow as deep as that which had fallen on his own spirit. Thus, while the evening and morning seemed to meet, all that was brighl al raid-day lay in shade, as age in its closing hours overlooks tha shadow ot a long life, to fasten once more upon the precious dreams and golden promises of youth. He was struck with the appearance of this, one of the most picturesque of our New England villages. Its neat white churches were tbe ems blems of puriiy of worship, and their tall spire- seemed lo be pointing to a belter world ; whilo the cottages and comfortable mansions, neatly fenced, and surrounded with fruii and shade trees, and arbors covered with the creeping jas¬ mine, all wore an appearance of comfort and con¬ tent. The inn also, was clean and inviting—in short, the place seemed jusl suited to his purpose, so he dismounted his baggage and soon made friends with his host. He was too weary to at¬ tempt a survey of the place that night, so after supper he sought his room, and being tempted by the clean, snowy sheets, was snon locked in the arms ot Morpheus. He awoke in the morning refreshed bolh in body and mind; the change of air and place had worked like magic on his ipirits, and he felt buoyant and happy. After breakfast, he sallied forth on an exploring expedition, and climbing the high hills which oretlooked the place, he fairly shouted as he turned to gaze down into the valley, so beautiful was the scene. After dinner ho walked to the upper end of the defile ; and, on his return, striking the rivulel, he followed ils course down through the village. As he neared the cluster of houses which compose what is called " the centre," he saw a beautiful white cottage standing on the bank of the stream, a lit¬ tle distance from the main road, half hid among the sheltering trees, which had just donned their manllB of green. The graceful woodbine which had twined around the casement, had nol yel fairly assumed ils spring attire, and through the openings in its branches, Frank noticed that the window was raised, as the day was quite warm tor the season. There was somelhing so attract¬ ive about the whole scene, that, scarcely know¬ ing why he did so, he approached slill nearer, until he distinguished the sound of voices. He would havo scorned to be called a listener, and yet his feel seeraed rooted to the spot as he over¬ heard the following conversation : 'Ellen, my dear, do lay aside llial work; I am sure it is hurting your eyes; see, the twilight has already set in. I cannot bear to see you toiling so steadily, for I know that you cannoi endure it. Come, lay il down, and sing me once more sorae ot your old songs—it is a long time since I have heard you sing to your harp.' • ' I cannot bear to sing lhe old songs, mother,' a low, tremulous voice replied; ' they remind me too strongly of other days.' Then sing me a new one, dear—sing any you choose ; I am sure il will do us both good.' There was a slighl rustling ot dresses, the harp was drawn from its resting-place, a little delay in tuning the instrumeni, and then a voice, whose richness and melody he had never heard exceeded, but whose tone of sadness was more touching even than the words, sang the following song, e'very word of which was as distinctly ut¬ tered as if she had been only reading it:— * O mother, ask me uot to sing— Gay songs arc ibr the happy-hearted; ~islv harp to mc no joy can bring, For joy and I long since have parted. 1 do not weary of my lot. Or ask from toil a moment's leiiiure ; 1 only beg thee, ask mo not To sing wheu I've no heart for pleasure. ' No burdened heart will e'er believe , Tbat swans sing swcete.qt when they're dying : I never yet could sing and grieve— ¦My mnsic bath no tone for sighing. If I were happy, I would sing— But ask me not when heavj'-henrted ; .My harp to menu joy can briug. For joy and I long since havo parted!' He listened entranced until the song was fin¬ ished, aud then ventured still nearer to catch, if possible, a view ot the tair musician, (tor fair he felt she must be,) but the mother rose aud closed the window, without perceiving that any oue was listening; and after wailing a whiie without hearing any renewal of the music, he returned to the inn with emotions which he had n.ever before experienced. for settleraent, slung by the rejection of his snit, the honse previous to that hour, and when at he refused to allow it. The widow and orphan last the hour arrived, they followed the sheriff' caAPTER III.—MIGHT AND THE DAW,^I. The morning after this occurrence he sought of his landlord some information concerning the tair musician. All night long had the sweet lones lingered in his ear; even in his sleep he seemed still lo hear them as echoes from fairy¬ land. His host was garrulous, and as it was Sunday morning—a leisure one with him—he gave him the informaiion for which he sought, burdened with many a tedious digression. Not to be alike tedious, I will give the history in fewer words. Ellen was the only child ofDr. John Mansfield, and was now living with her widowed mother. Her father, a physician of good repute, had been in very good praciice up lo the very day of his death; bul, boing, like too many of our profes¬ sional men, improvident of the future welfare of his family, had laid up little ot his yearly income, so that when suddenly called to die, he had noth¬ ing to leave them bul the cottage and garden where they lived, and even against these there were several outstanding debts. But Mrs. Mansfield and her daughter did nol sit down in sorrow to bewail the past. Mourn for the dead, they certainly did; but with the en¬ ergy peculiar to the children ot ahardy soil, they sought to make the best of their straitened cir¬ cumstances. It is true, they had a shelter for their heads, but what is a home wilhout food 1 For this they felt they must depend on their own- earnings, and their only hesitation was how to make their labor the most available. Ellen was endowed by nature with rare talents, and had received an excellent education ;—she would readily have undertaken a school, but one ot the higher order was already established in the vil lage, and there was no room for another. She might have gone abroad to teach, but she could not leave her mother alone, and her moth er could not bear to leave the home so rnuch en¬ deared to her. She looked around for employ¬ ment, for she eared noi what it was so that it was lionorable. Her mother was feeble and could do but Uttle ; but Ellen was young and strong, and full of hope. Alas, the only employment that offered in the village was that ot binding and trimming shoes. I say alas, not because that employment is degrading, but because, at the rate usually paid, it takes so many weary stitches to earn even a pittance. But Ellen went to work resolutely, and her employer, out ot sympathy tor her youth and loveliness, gave her the light¬ est portion of the work. Her flrst effort was lo pay off the few debts which were owing at the time of her father's death, that their little prop¬ erty might be unincumbered. But this accumu¬ lation of gains was a slow process. They lived in tho plainest manner, and yel having every¬ thing to buy, and all dependent on the little earn ings of those delicale fingers, poor Ellen had a sore time ot it. Slill she worked cheerfully, and would have succeeded in her plans had not an unexpected cause—something beyond the weari¬ ness of her daily toil—suddenly darkened her brightening prospects, put out the light of hope which, till now, had nerved her to her task, and hushed the music of her voice, which had once filled tho cottage with melody. That cause I will briefly explain. A certain miserly fellow, named Hiram Grey, was the rich man ot the village. He was past middle age, and a bachelor; and ha had long looked on Ellen Mansfield with a covetous eye. He had made no advances while the good doctor lived ; but since his decease he had fairly persecuted the poor girl wilh his attentions. Besides being per¬ sonally disagreeable to her, his character was the detestation of the whole village, and it was no wonder that the fair girl did not favor his suil, or that when he urged it beyond measura after her decided refusal, she gave him, with some spirit, to understand her apprecialion of bis char¬ acter. Nor, considering the natural bent of the human heart, is it any wonder that he medita¬ ted revenge. He saw that his wealth, upon which he so much prided himselt, was not of suflicient value in her eyes to redeem his char¬ acler, and he delermined that she should learn to place a higher estimate upon it. The estate of her falher was not yet settled, and Mr. Grey had put in his claim for over two hundred dollars: it was undersiood, however, that there was an offset to this claim for nearly or quite the samo amount, which would be al¬ lowed when the affair came to be adjudicated. But Mr. Grey had laid his plans deeply j he held in his hands the only proof of the payment of this offset, and when tho account was produced had no funds to spare fot a lawsuit, even if their case had not been hopeless, and they now felt that they were enjoying their little property by the sufferance of their bitterest enemy. This had occurred just previous to the arrival ot Frank Pendleton at the village; and though with per¬ severing industry the fair girl worked on as be¬ fore, her toil, uncheered by hope, had become a burden to her—her head had begun to droop, and her eye, when her mother was absent, was often filled with tears. It cannot be supposed that Frank heard her history without feeling a still stronger interest in her; and on a hint from the landlord that he would see her al church, he hastened to dress himself, choosing his plainest attire, and when the bell gave the signal for gathering, he loo joined the little band of worshippers. But his heart was not in the service; his eye wandered over the assemblage in search of the one whose history had interested him so deeply; but his search was vain until the minister had given out that beautiful hymn— ' I would not live alway"— when a plaintive voice almost beside him, heard mingling ils pure melody with the voices from the choir, pointed her out to him. -She was dressed in black and Ihickly veiled, so that be cotild not see her face; but when the good min¬ ister had commenced his sermon, and the eyes of raost present were drawn to the pulpit, she quielly reraoved the veil, andall unconscious ot his gaze, sat in full view before hira. Never had he seen a lovelier face; her dark glossy hair was plainly parted over a brow of purest snow, and her beautifully arched eyebrows had the same silken covering; her cheek was nearly as pure as her brow, but het lips had the color of the sunny side of the ripest peach. Her eyes, how¬ ever, were tbe crowning beauty of her fair coun¬ tenance. They were quite dark, almost black, and had in theit depths a world ot intelligence. They were fastened on the minister, but the long, dark eyelashes hung drooping over them, as it they were fearful of exposing such a fiood of Ught and beauty. Frank Pendleton gazed on her sweet face as if it were the only object in view, until, during a pause in the discourse, she casually lurned her eye towards hira, when, as she encountered his earnest look, there came a tinge of rose lo her pale cheek. It needed but this to have perfected the vision, and Frank felt that she was something more than beauiiful; that there was a soul look¬ ing out of those dark eyes which he could love, nay, which he loved already. The sermon was soon concluded, and the envious veil again cov¬ ered her fair face, but Frank carried her image in his heart. He went home like one in a dream. Once more in the solitude ot his own room, his resolution was soon taken, and Ije even trembled lest he might nol be ablo to win one whom he felt sure, were she his own, would be all toi which his heart had so long yearned. He easily gained admiitance to her dwelling, through the kindness of his host, to whom he had represented himself as an humble student, and as he carried there the voioe of kindness, begotten by the love overflowing al his heart, he was always readily welcomed, and his presence and con-yersation lighted up many a weary hour. As he saw her day after day toiling at her task, never laying down her work for a moraent's leisure, and al¬ lowing no conversatiPB to interrupt it, and all this in daily expectation of the crushing hand of the oppressor, who, she knew full weU, would sweep away all wiihin reach of his vengeance, his wonder at her self-sacrificing spirit gave plaee to new thoughts of life and its duties. He be¬ gan to inquire seriously if he had no responsibil¬ ities connecied wilh his being; if there were nothing in the course of Ufe he ought to pursue 10 link him to the great human family, who have been sentenced by" authoriiy of the Almighty to eat their bread in the sweat of their face; if it were not his duty, as the leasl he could do, to be bound in sympathy with the sons and daughters ot want, who feel the bitter meaning of the pri¬ meval curse. He thought of whal his past life, had been—a mere struggle to attain ease and happiness tor himselt alone. Wilh thoughi came penitence, and with penitence a resolution to live for the future as one of a large family, owing not only allegiance to a common father, but kindred affection and relative duties to allot his brethren This noble girl, he felt, would be jusl the help mate he needed in the course he had marked oul for himself ; bul he was nol certain of winning ber. He was sure she regarded him with favor —ha were blind not lo see that her face lighted up at bis approach, and that care sat less heavi¬ ly on her heart as she listened to his cheerful voice but he had also witnessed her self-denying spirit, and he was not sure that she would follow the impulse ot her heart He longed to ask her for a word of hope, and yet, as he sat by her side and looked into her sad, pale face, he felt alraost a delicacy in obtruding upon her sorrow with the advocacy of his suit. Still this seemed the only way that he could lift the burden poverty had laid upon her, and he determined to risk the ap¬ peal. But her night was not yet at the darkest; while he was meditating the mosl delicate way of ex¬ pressing to her the state of his feelings, the blow came which she had so long dreaded. Mr. Grey pushed his claim, and the property was advertis¬ ed to be sold on a certain day. On the morning that the sale was to take place, Mr. Grey called on Ellen Mansfield, as he said, for the last time. He bade her remember how he had sued in vain for her tair hand, and he asked her which she would now prefer, his home or the parish work¬ house 7 It is not so great a grief to be poor if one be a strong man, and have no tender ones clinging to him for support, for the path of the lowly has fewer thorns than the highway ot the rich and mighty ; but to be poor and helpless, to be obliged lo bear the taunts and insults of the oppressor, and see no way of escape or redress, oh I this is one of earlh's bitterest sorrows. El" len would sooner have let her proud heart burst than she would have humbled herself before him, so she clasped her hands firmly upon her bosom to stop its heavings, and trusted not her voice to speak lest she might betray her emotion- But Mr. Grey was not yel saiisfied ; he was baulked ot part of his vengeance nnless he could sec her humbled ; so he continued— ' Ay, hold On to your heart while you may, proud one ; there will soon be othet work for your delicale liands, unless you die of shame first. ' Mr. Grey,' replied the fair girl, in a clear, distinct voice, while her bright tearless eyes wete fastened on his guilty face, 'it is no criine lodie!' He shrunk from the burning glance of her piercing eye as the beast of prey does from tbe bright sunlight, and with that word crime ringing in his ears, and filling his mind with terrible im¬ ages from his past life, he left her presence feel¬ ing that he alone had been humbled. But when he was gone she sunk upon her knees in despair—turn which way she would, she could see no ray of light or comfort; all was dark as the shadow of death. The despoiler would soon be there to rob them of the few Ut¬ ile luxuries they had about them, and to sell their house over their heads. The sale was to commence at ten o'clock; quite B number of persons were coUectid about into the house. The latter gavo notice that the sale was to raise the sum of two hundred and twenty dollars with costs, and that all the arti¬ cles sold must be paid for on the spot. Frank Pendleton had gone to the sale with a determi¬ nation to buy in the property, and thus secure to the family. its undisturbed possession. As he glanced around tha room, he saw, on a toilet cushion, a finger-ring, which at first he thought ot some value, bat finally recognized as a cheap paste atfair, which a jewelry peddler, who had happened to come in one day at the dinner hour, had insisted od leaving in payment for his din¬ ner. A sudden thought struck him ; he would bid as much tor that ring as would be necessa¬ ry to pay the debt, and thus save the mortifica¬ tion of a ganeral sale. He according requested the sheriff to offer that first. He consented, and holding il up, asked for a bid. Frank offered • two hundred and thirty dollars.' At this bid every orie present opened their eyes wilh aston¬ ishment, excepi Mr. Grey ; he had had his open¬ ed aome tirae before when Frank was examining it, and had no doubt, from this circumstance, that the ring was a real diamond. He had nev¬ et seen one in his life, but had often read of the immense value attached to. some of them, and being very covetous, his eyes sparkled at the idea ot buying it cheap, and making on it pet- haps, a ihousand dollars—al any rate, he would be safe in bidding on it, for the young mau, he telt sure, would not be likely to offer at first any¬ thing like ils value. So he bid two hundred and fifly dollars. Frank saw through his motive, and determined to let him slay in the ttap where he was caught, so he made no farther bid ; and as none of the bystanders interfered, it was knocked down to the miser, who paid over the money—more than enough to cover the debl and costs—and the sale, of course, was stopped.— How Mr. Grey felt when ho ascertained that the ring was dear at a quarter ot a dollar, need not be told; but no one commiserated him, for all felt that he had overreached himself in attemp¬ ting to rob the widow and the orphan. Frank found a hearty welcome awaiting him that evening at the cottage. During his visit, tor the first time since his attival, he saw the work laid aside, and those slender fingers had a respite. And yet not a respite eithet, for some¬ how, during the mother's absence, Frank con¬ trived to imprison them, and would not let them go until their fair ownet had consented to be his. ' And now, dear Ellen,' said the happy man wilh a roguish twinkle in his eye,' do you think you would be willing to work tor me as wearily as you have toiled hitherto ?' ' You forget,' she answered, while a bright smile, a sure prestige of happier days, lil up her beautiful face,' that labor is not a weariness when we work for those we love.* 'Bravely answered, my noble girl; but you may give yourself a long holiday from such toil, tor I am rich beyond thy wildest dreams; and yel thou art mote to me than all the rest ot my possessions, for through Ihee I first learned how to live.* Genlle reader, it you lived with the writer in this large city, you might almost daily see a young man wilh a thoughtful bul happy face, walking wilh a busy step along the crowded sireet. He is hurrying forth on some errand of mercy, and conld you follow him bul a single day in his blessed ministry, you could hardly be¬ lieve he was the same man to whom I introduced you in the first chapter. And that fair young woman, who sometimes leans on his arm lovingly as ayoung bride should, is often seen alone, or "with a single female friend, by the hearih of the poot, ot the bedside of the sick, or in the chamber of suffering. None of the objects ot her charity can tell why ker voice falls on their ear more tenderly than the lones of another, or why she is so gifted lo enter into all their feelfngs of sorrow or disappointment.— Bul we who have seen her toiling at the little cot¬ tage in that far off village between the hills, have the secret of her ready sympathy-—she was her¬ self one of earth's stricken ones, and has been labght in the same school. That cottage has not passed away to strangers, and I can fancy that, even at this early season, the grass is green in that little yard, and the buds on the surrounding trees are swelling with the promise of a grateful shade ; and when the faint airs of summer breathe languor o'er the wearied trame in this hot oity,>I am sure that its little parlor will again echo wilh blithesome music. FASHIONABLiG MII,I<mERY. MRS. BAILIE WILL OPEN an assort¬ ment or FASHIONABt.E SPRINR Mir.I.r. mcnt or FASHIONABLE SPRING MILLI- NEEY, THURSDAY, April Sth, at her residenoo in Eaiit King atreet, Lancaster. [March 28 41-17 Wanted. A YOUNO MAN as Salesman, in a Dry Goods -"-i- Storo, ono -ivho unacrstanOs the buninc.Hs and can corae well rocommcniTed,—may hear of it. good Hituation, by nddreRslng, '• Merchant," through thc Lancaster Post Offlce. ^Iar 2l tf.io eotraiTir i.oaiv. PERSONS WISHING TO LOAN MONEY TO the County of Lancaster, -wilt pleaae hand in to thc Comroiseionerfl of Laiicmiter County, PROPOS.A.LS Bta- ting the amount tbey wish to loan, and at what per centum, per annum. JOHN LA'NDES, JOHN WITMER., HENRY MUSSELMAN, March 21,1849. tM6] Commiasioncrfl. -A. an STKASBURG ACADEMY. THIS INSTITUTION has been in successful Operation under the care of tbe present Principal for the last ten years. The whole expenses per scsflion uf FIVE MONTHS $55 00. TheSummer SeBsionwill com¬ mence on the FIRST ilONDAV of MAY. For circular.*), referencea, &;c. addreBS— llcv. D. McCARTKR, March 21 6t-16] Principal and Proprietor. Unionville Boarding School for Girls, THIS SEMINARY is handsomely situated in Unionville, Cheater county, Fennsylvauia. about nine miles Bouth-west of ¦VVcBt-Chester. Tho course* of in¬ struction comprises all the usual brunches of a liberal Knglish education, together with tho French Language and Drawing ; and will be under the care of competent female teachers. Tbe year wiU be divided into two equal BessiouH of twenty-two weeks each. Tho Summer Session to com¬ mence on the third second day of the fifth, month, and the Winter Session on the second second day of tho eleventh month of each year Thc terms forBoardinff, Wa.qhiDff and Tuition. h\) dol¬ lars per seesion. one half payable at the comniuuccment, and the remainder at the close of the seRsion. Letters addrcsBed to the subscriber through the Po.'it- OlBce, at Unionville, will be promptly atteuded to. 3mo. lOth, 1849—a»ml CHAS. BUFFINGTON. "NEW GOODS!" JUST BECEIVED AT Falmestock's Cbeap Store, ELEGANT ASSOETMENT OF SEW and desirable style of SPRING DKESS GOODS; Real French bl-k & white Gisohams at 121 ct-'- ""rtlj 2u, fancy do. " 12J •' ;¦ 25 Extni Super Imp'l Linen do. " 12J " '¦ l-i- NEW SPRING STYLE DE LAINES; GLOSSy BLACK SILKS; a large supply of high lustre Black .Mantilla and dress boiled SILKS, the best flnish Imported. WHITE GOODS, FoTlADIES DRESSES. Wc have now, and intend keeping throughout the sea¬ son, a sploudid assortment of 'iVHlTE GOODS, for LA- DIKS DRESSES, such as Plain, Plaid and Striped CA.M- BBICS, J.A.CONETS, N.-iNSOOKS, MULLS, SWISS .MULLS, BOOK, He. 8:c Just received iu addition to the ahove 101) tiieees PL-AID CA.MBRIC MUSLINS, at 121. 50 ¦• "SWISS FINISH" do. atl-2j. LINEN CAMBRIC HDKFS. 00 dozen LINEN CA.MBRIC HANDKERCHIEFS, at 12i cLrt. with avariety of finer makes. Ladies and Misses Hosiery, Gloves, S,-c. SfC. ALP.AC.AS ;—.Always on hand,' un extensive supply of Alp.\ca3, High Lustre and Bombazine Finishs. MODE DE LAI.VES, a splendid article, at 121 cts. BL>K ¦¦ ¦• and ALPACAS, " 12} cts. Bleached and Unbleached .MUSLINS ; a great variety ot MUSLINS, of the most approved makes. Also :—shirting LINENS, by the piece or yard, with a variety of finer makes, for Bosoms, varying in price from 25 cts. upwards Now opening. 2,000 yards KIP CALICOES, fast colors, H. E FAHNESTOCK, S. W. cor. North Queen &. Orange sts., one square Keb 23—tf north from Court House, Lancaster. All the Magazines for April, AT J. GISH & BROTHER'S Head-Quartera for all Cheap Publications. GODEY'S LADY'S BOOK is a gem of a number, con¬ taining 26 distinct engravings aud 80 pages of reading matter—all for 25 ceuts. GUAH.;VM'S ai AGAZINE is also a splendid number, con¬ taining 4 beautiful steol embellishmentB, music, fash- iouB, &.C. Price 25 centa. SARTAIN'S UNION MA.GA21NE,a fine number. 2oc. LADY'S NATIONAL MAGAZINE. Price ISa cents. MACAULY'S HISTOEY OF ENGLAND—Volume II. All the cditiona from 25 cents to $2. Thia is pronoun¬ ced, by all, the beat History of England ever published. •¦Let UB commend our dotcI reading friends to try Macaulay's work by way of variety. We think a few pages would take such hold of them that they could not luy it down.—Picayune. THE CAXTONS, A FAMILY PICTURE, by Bulwer.— part 1, price 183 cts. NEW YORK IN SLICES, hy an Esperienced Carrer. ROLAND CASHEL, by Chas Lefever. part Ist. THE DIAMOND AND THE PEARL, a new novel, by Mrs. Gore, price 25 cte. WEISS ON WATER CUBE, prico <,!. AU of EUen Pickering's, Mrg. Grey's, and othor pupu¬ lar novels on hand. The beat assortment of Miscellaneous and Religion.'! BOOKS. STATIONERY, BLANK BOOKS, &c can always be found at the Cheap Book and Stetionery Store of J. GISH & BROTHER, 3 doors from the National House, North Queen St., March 28-17] LANCASTER. CHAS. M. EKBEIV & BRO. Have thia day opened at their Ne-w Store, In the National House Building, North Q,ueen Street. AN ENTIRE New and clioice stock of the moat desirable kinds, styles and qualiticH of DRY GOODS over beforo offered in this city. Their stock embracos a full and muHt elegant assortment of every thing in the FJlNCr.IND STJIPLE DRY GOODS LINE, and will bc sold at remarkably low rates. 7'heir long acquaintance with tho business in this city warrants thera in eaying that they will be able to sell the right kind of gooda, and at the hight prices I They will bc constantly receiving every new style of goods as thi-y appear in the raarket; and it wiUbe their earncfit eadeavor to satisfy all those wbo may favor them with a cfill. CHAS. M. ERBEN &: BRO. Marcli 7 3m-14 SPRING BRUSHES ! BRUSHES ! ! Jacob Rotlaariuel^ 'pHANKFULfor past favors, takes pleasure -¦- in announcing to the citizens of the city and couu¬ ty of Lancaster, that he still continues his BRUSH STOUE, at thc same ftand. East King street, in the city of Lancaeter, between Sprecher's and Swope's Hotel.-!; and immediately opposite Demuth's Snuff Manufactory : where be contemplates keeping a general assortment of BRUSHES, suitable for this market, all of which are manufactured by himself, or under hid immediate inspec¬ tion, such as Clothes Brushes. Hat, Hair, Tooth. Hand. Flesh. Shaving, Sweeping, Whitewashing, Scrubbing' Dustiug. Window, Shoemaker.-*' Watchmakers' Varnisli, Paint, Graining, Horse Brushes, aud ull other kiuds that ar« manufactured by the trade j to which the attention of the public is reapectfully directed to calland look at, No charge made for looking. All orders from couhtry nu-rchants and shopkeepers attended to with prnmptne.SR. whoiesale nnd retail. Combs of every description and at moderate pricen constantly kept on hand. Also, a good aupply of firsl^ rate BROOMS. N. B.—The highcit prices paid for couutry bristles. Marches ^im-lO JOHN W. WILSON, lUARBLE MASON, of Philadelphia, takes thia "••¦ method to return liis sincere thanlis to the cit¬ izens of Lancaster eity and couniy, for past favor», ancl at the same time respectfully informs them that he haa removed bis Marble Works from hia old stnnd to his present localion, in East King street, a few doors west of the Farmer's Bank, where he designs to manufacture every kind of work in the Marble and Stone Cutting business, such as Mantels, Jflonuments, Tomb and GR.AVB-STOJfES. Also, house work of every description. Letter Cutting in English and German will, ea heretofore, be attended to in the best and most modern style In fact, nothing will ba left undone to make this es¬ labliahment one ofthe most inviting to the public,., as to cheapness, beauty of workmanship, tasle in" design, and skill in execuiion, in the city of Lan¬ casier. One and all are invited lo give me a call. I can be found in the same building with Jocob Gable, tin smith, in East ICing street, a few doors weal of the Farmers' Bank. [Nov 8 ly-50 DETVTISTBY. DR. JOHN M'CALLA, Graduate of the Balti¬ more College of Dental Surgery, begs leave to inform the ciiizens of Lancaster, and tbe public generally, that he will continue to practice his pro¬ fession at the old stand, directly over Measrs. Sprecher &. Rohrer's Hardware Store, fifth door from the Court Houae, in East King street. He deems it sufficient to say that ne practices the WHOLE of the Dental Art, and is constantly prepa¬ red to supply Artificial Teeth under every varie¬ ty of circumstances, from a single tooth to an enlire set, on any known .\ppkoved principle. Feb 7 ly-10 DENTIST. nR. J. WAYLAN would inform the citizens of " Lancaster, and oihers, that he has moved his office, and now occupies rooms opposile Schofieid's Hotel, NoKTH QoEE.N STREET, and aa numbers in this city and elsewhere, can teslify to his skill and faiihfullness in the varioua operaiions of Dental Sur¬ gery, itis only necessary here to say, that he will spare no efforts to render entire satisfaction as here¬ tofore. For the information of ihose who are yet strang¬ ers to hia manner of operating, he would take this occasion to remark, that the Biiiiinni,, College of Dental Surgery awarded to him ibi: t',r'.\ premium, a Mounted Rosewood Box of Denial Instruments, as a testimonial of his superior skill in the various operaiions pertaining to the profession of Dentielry. Feb 7 10 DR. PATTERSON'S PATENT GINGHAMS—American, English and French Fabrics—the greatest goods in the citv—juflt receit- ed. and only 12^ eta. per yurd. .at the Bee 'Hive. CHA'S E. WENTZ & BRO. JUST received, 4 Cases splendid DARK CAL¬ ICOES—fast colors—only 6i- ct.s. per yard, at the BEE HIVE. ACHOICE LOT of Gentlemen's new style CKAV.A.TS, just received at thu BEE HIVE. MUSLINS! MUSLINS!!—A large lot of Ble.ichcd and unbleached SUPERIOR MLISHNS. for oniy 6i cts., at the Bee Hive. CHA'S E. WENTZ SiBRO. Feb 28—tf-13 North queen St, UOITSE-KEEPIIVQ GOODS!! WTE are now opening an elegant assortment IT of -l-i to 12-4 Linen and Cottou SHEETINGS ; 4-4 to 6-4 I.inen DiimnsK.'* and Diapers; Dfttnask Talil.- Cloths und Nupkius ; Worsted Damasks ; Emboased Ta¬ ble Covers ; Toilet Covers ; .Marseilles Quilts ; Ticking^^. Bed Chocks. QUEENS-'WAiU! &c. I'eople about supplying themselves will do well to give us 11 Clll. GRIEL S; GILBERT. Feb L>S tf-13 BONOM SAMSON, BRUSH MANUFACTUKEK, North Queen Street, .vbove the R.a.ilhoau, lancaster. BONOM SAMSON hns constantly on hand a groat variety of FANCY AND OTIIER BRUSHES. Comprisiug— Huir. Cloth, Fleah. Tooth, Shaving, Sweeping, Scrubbing. WuU. Onsving. Horse. Paint, Varnish, Sash-tools, and every articles in lh(i Brnsh liue. First qualitti Shoe and Stock Bristles far sale. N. B.~Highest price given for Country Bristles. March 21 2m-16 ' Block-Spring TruaseN! Far the SPEEDY and CERTAIN CURE of eaery variety of HERNIA or RUPTURE. THESE superior instruments are constructed on an entire new principle, by which the painfu and injurious degree of pressure, required by olher Trusses to retain the rupture, is avoided, and ena¬ bles persons to wear them with more ease, com¬ fort and benefit, than any other in use. iKr PERMANENT CURES, warranted in all cases. They will be carefully applied by Dr. HENRY CARPENTER, De cl3 tf-2] South Queen 9treel,Lancaster. GEORGE FLICK. Cm-13 JOHN B. LIVINGSTON, ATTORNEY AT LAW, O^co '2nd door South of the Mechanics Insti¬ tute, South Queen Street, Lancaster, Pa., Will attend lo any professional business entraated to his care, with promptness und dispatch. ¦eS- N. B. Scrivening, such aa writing Deeds, Wills, Mortgages. Releases, .-Iccounta, &c. &c. attended to on reasonable' terms and at the shortest notice- Lancaster, March 14th, 1849. lyr-15 AliEX. L. HAYES, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Ofice South Prince Street, half a square from the Lancaster Savings Institution. Jan. 17, 1349. ly-J BARTKAai A. SHAEFFER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Office with Geo. Ford, Esq., in East King St. October 11, l-y.40 SIMON STEVENS, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Office with Thaddeus Stevens, Esq., S. Queen Street, Lancaster, Pa. September G. 6m-41 LANDIS &, BLACK, ATTORNIES-AT LAW, Office 3 doors below Lancaster Bank, South Queen Street, Lancaster, Pa. N. B. .A.I1 kinds ot Scrivening, such as writing of Wills. Deed.s, Mortgages, Accounts, &c., tc, will be uttended to with correctness and despatch. Jesse L.vnoi3. .Iames Black. June 23 31 Veuetian Bliud Manufactory. yENETIAN BLINDS, of the most beautiful patterns aud Iinish. are nmnufactured at lhe estab¬ lishment of the undersigned, wliose Shop can be found immediately in the roar of Scholfield's Hotel, uear the Post Offiee. These BLINDS are made of wood of the smoothest and most durable quality, and at short order and mode¬ rate prices. The subscriber having had considerable experience in the manufacture of Venetian Blinds,,the people of this city and county can depend upou haVing any work tbut they may order, exeeuled with despatch aud in a workmanlike manner. SIT -^ variety of handsome Blinds on hand for the inspection of tlie public. _Fcb28_ _ _ HATS FOR THE PEOPLE ! D. SHULTZ, Hatter, No. 19J North Queen St., Lancaster. WOULD RESPECTFULLY inform his friends and tho public that he has just received frqpi New York and Philadelphia the latest Spring & Summer Fashions for 1840 and will bc pleased to furniBh his cuatomers and all oth- : ers with them at the shortest notice. As all his HATS arc manufactured Under hia iuiuiL'- (linto superintendence, he fcclfl warniutod iu paj'inB, that for durability und finish .they cannot be surpaaacd by any establishment in thia or any otlier city in the Union '. His stock consists of BEAVER, NUTRIA, BRUSH, RUSSIA. CASSIMERE. MOLESKIN. SILK, &c.. which he will dispose of at the lowest pricea. CaU and examine his stock before purchasing elsewhere. His ftflBortmcnt of CAPS is one of the inoEt extensive lu the city and he is adding to it daily. Customers may PC8t aaaured that they will be suited, us he carefully se¬ lected hia stock from thc largest aaeortmonts in New York and Philadelphia. Don't forget the atand, DIRECTLY OPPOSITE MICHAEL's HOTEL, NORTH QUEEN STREET. Country Merchants visiting Lancaster, dealing in Hat? or Capa, can be supplied at ¦Wholesale pricea, from ono lo a dozen, .fUclt fiizes as any m.iy want. Healso informs bla numerous friends and customers that he still continues to conduct thc HATTING BUSI¬ NESS in nil its branches na heretofore at his OLD STAND IN NEW HOLLAND, to which place all orders for tho delivery of Hats are re¬ quested to be forwarded. O.W'ID SHULTZ. Lancaster, Feb. 28,1849. tf-13 CUairs! Chairs!! THE aubscribers continues tlie CHAIK MA- ICINtj BL'SI.NESSathis old staud in North Quoen street, a few doorri south of. tile rail road, where he keeps on bund, or will make to order. Chairs. Settees, Bedsteads, &c. ofgood quality and as elieap as they ean be procured ut any other phice iu town or country. Persons about commencing house keep¬ ing, and others, are invited to call. Jau24 3m-,'il JOHN ^VEIDLF.K, IVo^v for Bargraius! l—Cheap CABIIVET WAKE. JOHN EBERMAN takes plea.sure in calling the attention of his friends and the public to the fact, that he now makes BURE.A.US.T.\BLES. CUPBOARDS; and Cabinet tVork genemlly, at lower prices thnn ever. Splendid Bureaus, highly finished, at only §12. As he does all his own work, having no apprentices to do work In any style, it is reasonable to suppose that he can make Cabinet AVare ut less rates than any other similar ostab- llshment in Lancuster. If the public but give him a call, they may rest satis- Ged as to their being pleased, both'as to prices as well as to his superior workmanship. His mechanical skill as a Cabinet .Maker has long been tested by the people ol Lancaster county, to their decided advantage. J. E.cau always be found at his SHOP, IN F,.\ST CHESNUT Srai;F.T, a few doors above Fennel's Irou Fouudry. [Feb 21 3m.l2 THOS. W. & THEO. S EVANS, DENTISTS, South-East corner of Orange ii A'orth Queen Street, Lancaster, Pa. _Jfebruary 23. ly-13 CHARLES A. HEINITSH, (Successor to J. F. Heihitsh & Son,) Wholesale and Retali Duggist, East King Street, Lancaster, Pa. January 17. 3m-7 R. £. Fabnestock, SOUTH-WEST CORNER OF NORTH QUEEN AND ORANGE STREETS, One Square North from the Court House, HAS NOW COMMENCED THE PURCHASE OF SPRING AND SUMMER GOODS, and will continue to receive almost daily, during the en¬ suing season, GOODS that are new and desirable. Feb 28 W.M. T. WALTERS.] [CHARLES HARVEY WALTERS & HARVEY, (tATE WALTEHS & MABVET,) PRODUCE AND GENERAL, COMMIS¬ SION MERCHANTS, NO. 15 & 16 SPEAR'S ^VHARlf, BALTIMORF.. -oaf LIBERAL CASH ADVANCES M.4DE ON-£» CONSIGNMENTS OF ALL KINDS OF March 21] PRODUCE. 3m-lG PUBLIC NOTICE. THE undersigned would notify the public and his patrons, th.at THO.M-A.S T.-U'LOR, formerly Foreman of his Hat uhd Cup Manufactory in North Queen Street, has been discharged from that capacity ; and all business connected with thc establishment has been entrusted .to his son, HENRV A. SHULTZ, und ull outstanding monies due hira ure to bc paid to said Henry, or to tlio undersigned, and not by any means, i under any circumstances to the suid Thomas Tnylor. D.iVID SHULTZ, Hut & Cap Manufacturer, N. Queen St.. Lunca.ster, Lan'r., March 21 3t-lC] Opposite Michucl'a Hotel. SPRING goods: Carpetings ! Carpetings !! JUST received and now opening, a superior ussortment of CIRPETINGS ; Imperial 3 ply, line and common Ingrain, |, I and i ; Venitian and Rag Car¬ petings. A1.10: a splen'ded aseortment of Floor and Ta. ble OIL CLOTHS, of various widths aud designs ; RUGS, M.\TTINGS, COUNTERPAINES. Sc. &c., all of which are olTored very low. at the New York Storo. Feb 28-tf.l3 GRIEL ,S; GILBERT. Tlie Discovery of a Gold Mine NEAR LANCASTER, would scarcely produce a greater rush among our citizens than that which has been niade of late years to .-lec and obtain aome of those new aud splen¬ did CHAIRS, of whicll I always have a, large fia.^ortmcut on band, which for quality and style of manufactory defy competition, selling at BUch prices as-will suit thc timo^.ut the corner of Ea.st King ii.nd Dukft streotH. Lnncnster. iX:7=-KUHNITURE of all kiud^ coufitantly on hand and for sale at the lowest prices. Feb 2S 3m-13J .IAMES H. BARNES, REMOVAI., FurnUure Ware-Room, GEORGE F. IIOTE has KEMOVED bis PUU- NITUHE WARE-ROOM to the Me- cHAMc'a I>-3TiTCTE. in Soi;TH Ql'ee.n St.. where he will keep on hund, or make to order at short notice, all the fushionahle nnd plain varieties of Chairs and Furni¬ ture. Peraons in want of good and cheap Fur¬ niture of any description are invited to call before purchaBing. The UndertakerVs brauch of the bucinesa particularly attended to. [Feb 21 3ni-l Dr. A. G. Hull's Trusses. Doidile and Single Iiifruiiial and Rotary Wedee TRUSSES. Also, HulVs Utero Abdominal Supporter. T^ HE attention of Physicians and the affiicted ia ¦^ called to theae celebrated instruments, of which a large assortment has just been received by the undersigned agent, which will be sold at considera¬ bly reduced prices. JOHN F. LONG, Feb 14] Druggist, No. 8 North Queen at. TRUSSES! T^HE atteniion of persons ruptured is called to ¦*¦ Siiernian's Patent Block and Cushon Spring Pad Trusses, the only insirument now in use for tlie reiention and radical cure of hernia. This 'I'russ is worn with more case and comfort than any other now in use. Sold only by the acent, Dr. ELY PARRY, at his Drug Store, East King street, S doors from Duke street, Lancaster. Also Sherman's improved Suspension Bandages, ihe cheapest, best and most comfortable that can bc worn. Persons should beware ; thev havo no security against sirangulated hernia with all ila horrors but in a well adapted truss. A alight over-e.xerlion, a sin¬ gle mis-step, may produce strangulation, when there ia no relief save in dealh ! How careful then overy one should be and how important that they secure one of Sherman's Trusses, affording as they do comfort, securily, and finally a cure. Physicians are parlicularly invited to call and examine the trusses. Kemember _ DR. ELY PARRY, East King street, 3 doors from Duke, is the only agent for Lancaster. lOct 25 6m-48 Geiger & liChner, DESPECTFULLY announce in the public, that **• they have entered inlo a Co-parlnership and intend to carry on lhe Ftnindry Sf Jllachine Shop, situate near lhe Railrnad, al the city of Lancaster, lormerly conducted by Pennell Sc Lehner. They will coramence business nn or about the 1st of April ne.xt ELISHA GEIGER, Feb 7, if-10 JOHiM LEHNER. PI A WOS. ILL sorts of Pianos (both npw and second hand) ^ from the most celebrated makers in New York and Philadelphia, kept constantly for sale by the ubcriber, at the lowest prices, in Mount Joy; Lan¬ caster county. ftCrAIl Pianos sold by mc will bc warranted- July5.[*ly-32. JOHN D. HUSMAN. FURNITURE! FURNITURE! IF you "want to save money step into the Wai-e- room, corner of Ea-'^t Kiug and North Duke street.^, (the stand formerly kept hy J. F. Shroder.) and exam¬ ine thc inagnifioent stock of that extensive eatablish¬ ment, where you will And FURNITUItE of all kinds. aud to puit all tastes, nt such price.'j as will completely astonish you. got up in the must taaty manner andof the bent materials .ind workmanship. Also on hand, at all times, CHAIRS of every descrip¬ tion and atall pricea. CimiSTIAN WIDMVER. Lancaiter, March T 3in Cliairs! Cbairs!! Chairs!!! THE aubscriber haa KEMOVED his CHAIR MANUFACTORY to a few rods north ofhis old stand, and next door to Schoficld'.s tavern, in North Queen street. Eancaster. where ho kuepa on haud. or will make to order. Chairs and Settees of all kinds, at the very lowest prices.— Persons in want of these articles arc re¬ quested to call on thc Eubscriber. aathcy cannot fall tobe satjpfled with hi.i work-l manship and prices. April 26 ly:22J JOHN SWINT Graves' Pure Palm Soap. A FURTHER supply of this excellent SOAP, ao much approved of for waehing and shaving, just received and for sale hy WM. G. BAKER, Druggi^tt Feb 21 tf-12] Centre Square. Rock Powder aud Safety Fuse. ALWAYS on handat KLINE'S HARDWARE STORE, North Queen Street, between Michael's and Kauffman'H Hotels. Feb 21 12 WHITE CANDIA SOAP^ THIS SUPERIOR WASHING SOAP is re- commended to tb« attention of Ladiefi, an beiug well adapted for tho Toilet and .Nursery on account of its great cmoliont quaUtie.s. ,\ small supply just received and for sule at JOHN F. LONG-S Drut'it Chemical Store, No. 8. North Queen-al. March U tf-15 Gi£se & sow, COMMISSION MERCHANTS, FOR THE SALE OF FtODR, GKAIN, SEEDS, LUMBER, IRON, &c. NO. 48 CO.MMERCE STREET WH.4RF, BALTIMORE. CT" ADVANCES M.\DE ON CONSIGNMENTS, .rn F'b 21 _ <3m-12 Iiookln^ Glasses. T OOKING GLASSES of aU sizes and at pricea J-' to suit the times, at KLINE'S HARDWARE STORE, North queen Street. Feb 21 12 FRESH SBED P£AS. JUST received, Extra Early, Prince Albert, Early Dwarf Prolific. Blue Prussian, Early Fr.amc. Blue Imperial and Dwarf Marrowfat PEAS. AlBO:—Extra Early, Early Valentine. Windsor and true Lima BEANS. S: IVhite & Yellow ONION SETTS. Forsaleat JOHN F. LONG'S Drug & Chemical Storo, No. 8, North Queen-st. Mwrch 14 tf.l5 Plain Mode Moug De Laines! "VTOW opening, one Case of beautiful DARK J-^ MODE MOUS DE LAINES.jit 12i cts, afthe New Vork Store Feh 28 ORIELS GILBERT tf.l3 Calicoes ! Calicoes !! ¦TI/TE are now opening 2 Casea more of thoae T T rich dart fast colored Prints, whicli we are offering at the extreme low prico of 61 cts. Great Bargains' at I tbe New York Store. GRIEL & GILBERT. Furniture >Vare-Rooms. CONRAD ANNE, Jr., "DESPECTFULLY informs bia -^^ friends and tbe public genemlly. thnt he continues the bufiness of C.VUINET M.\KING, in East King street, four doors. East of Jobn N. Lane's .-(tore, where ho will alwnys be ijrcparod to supply tbe or¬ ders ofhis friends and the pulilic He will constantly have on band, or be ready to manu¬ facture to order. .Mahogany Bureaus at $10 00 Do. Centre Tables '• flo, to 15 00 Do. Sideboards at $10 15 or 20 00 Pier, Card and Dining Tables, Sofa-Longes, Ladies Work Stands and Dressing Bureaus, Wardrobes. Sofa-Tables. Pedestals. Secretaries, Book Cases. Desks and Hat Stands! .\lso a new style of Attorney Desks and Book Cases. Kitchen Dressers, and Bedsteads made aa low as $3 -II Dough Troughs, kc. COFFINS will bc made with despatch. Funerals will be attended to at the shortest notice. H'aTing determined to devote himself closely to busi- ness, and to employ none but tried workmen he will be able to sell his worth cheap for Cash. Ho will bo able also to warrant aU his work, as he la resolved to use none out thc best matenaljj. MATRASSES. Straw Matrasses, made from «3 60 1„ i) Slraw and Cotton '• •¦ 450 to a Mo.ss Matrasses " ^- S to 15 Hair do. '¦ '¦ jO to -10 .Matrasses make of Corn-huska and eupMrior to any thing in use, from $5 to 8. -¦VIso, Spring Matrasses made to order CHAIRS. Mahogany Chairs, from '^3 to C uo Cane ¦¦ '¦ 1.50 to 2 50 Rush Buttom" '¦ 1-50 to 2 50 .•\ud a large a,iBortment of Windsor chairs, which will be sold from S3.50 to SS a set. BLINDS of all pizes and colors from $3.50 to jo. Damnsk. and other curtains made and liuog to order. \lao Bug Poison, for the destruction ol Bugs. Roach¬ es. .Vnts.&c., warranted to destroy tbe same or no barge. An excellent Furniture Car to let by the day. hour, or ° All tho above articlea aro warranted, nnd sent to any pnrt of the county, with care nnd despatch provided k.,-,, j4 n load purchased. C. .A.NNE. Dr. Martin's Compound S3rrup of Wild Clierry and SarsapaiiUa. THE WILD CHERRY nnd SARSAPARILLA, ¦vvhich are >he basis of this Metlicine, have long I'ceii celel.rated iti Consumption, Scrofula, Diseases ofthe Skin, Cough. Injluenza, Spitting of Blood, Asthma, ^c Tiie Right Rev'd W. R. Whillingham, Bishop of thrPro- ttstani Episcopal Church, in Maryland, has aullioriscU ii3 to say, hehas ueed u in his own person wiih desired ben¬ efit, and many of our Medical- frienda do not hesitatt; to recommend Uin their practice;—see Dr. Samnel Har¬ per's leiter to us in the pamphlet which you can obtain gratis of our Agenl. The Boonsborough Odd Fellow, of Uashingion cn. Md.,of June'.^OUi, iBiS. says: "When an article ho« afforded relief to so many persons ag DR. MARTIN'S COMPOUND SYRUP of WILD CHERRY has done, we feel bonnd lo make it known. There never was an ariicle in Ihis country iliai hus afforded rehef and gave more saiiafaction Ilian this. In ihe neighborhood of Brownsville, in this connty, it has effecicd several impor lanl cures,.ond from our own ceriain knowledge of n, we pronounce it unequalled for the cure of Coughs, Colds and diseases of ihis kind." In the CUigiiman\< Sore Throat (Bronchitis) it may truly bepaidlolic '-aSovneign Balm." na the Odd Fel¬ low of thc 6ih June, 164S. calls it. It alao differ a from moai Olher remedjcs, m being remarkcbly pleasant, and in not Jinviiig any of those heaiine. stupefying, or dw- gusting propertits, whicii are found ,:i r:.j=: other prcpa- ratrona of the Wild Cherry or Sarsaparilla. Read the pamphlcis, which you can obiain gratis of any ofihe Agenis. Price T.'i cems a bellle.« \rr Prepared andsoldby MARTIN & WHITELEY, No.48South Calvert street. Baltimore; and for siilc by J. GISH & BROTHIiR, corner of N. Queen i Orange sis.. Lancaiter BLANCHE Sc CRAP, Harrisburg. O.SCAR D. JENKINS, Potlsville. J. R. BRUBAKER, New Holland. J. T. ANDERSON, Maneiiu. E. RAUB, WRIGTSVILLE. DR. W. P. IRLAND'S PREMIUM PLASTER. DR. W. P. IRI.AND, of tlie Medical College of Phila¬ delphia, now oflers to the pul.lic his I.WDIAN VEG¬ ETABLE PREMIVU PL.ISTEH, the qualities of which, after long and iried eipeneiice, hoa been satis¬ factorily eslablished. To all women, who mny be afllict¬ ed with the affection called Prolapsus Lten, or hailing of the Womb, he recommends his I'lasler, guaranteeing a sure and speedy cure in the short space of from two to three weeks, if applied with care, and the patient al¬ lowed sufficieni resl-discard.ng al the counlless insiru¬ menls aiidcrpeniiive bandages so lone in use. This he reels conscientious In slating, inasmuch as he has failed but in J?« insiances out of EIGHT HUNDRE'D AND m!\'ETY-SE VEN CMCs. ^ „. , ^ Also, for Rheumatism, and A\ eali Breasis or Bac^s, attended wilh pain, there is nothing lo excel thia Plaster in afibrding relief, or in elTecling a cure. For sale by WM.G. BAKER, Druggist, May 17,1643 lyj Cenire Square, Lancaaier. there i .March 7 3m-14 Printing Paper for sale at this oJEfice Removal—i\ew Barber Stand. CHARLES B. WILLIAMS DESPECTFULLY informs lhe citizena of ian- "- caster, and strangers who may tarry here until their beards grow, that he has openeda Shaving and Hair Cutting Saloon, in North Queen street, opposile Kauffman's tavern, where he intend? pros¬ ecuting the Tonsorial Business, in all ils varied branches. He will shave you as clean as a city Broker, and cut your hair to suit the cut of your Phiz. Then the whole object and desire is, to im¬ prove the appearance of the human race. From long experience he flatters himself that he can go through all the ramifications of the Tonsorial De¬ partment, wilh such an infinite degree of skill, as to meet the entire approbalion of those who sub¬ mit their Chins to Ihe keen ordeal ofhis Razor. Jan 17 3m-7
Object Description
Title | Lancaster Examiner and Herald |
Masthead | Lancaster Examiner and Herald |
Volume | 10 |
Issue | 18 |
Subject | Newspapers--Pennsylvania--Lancaster County |
Description | The Lancaster Examiner and Herald was published weekly in Lancaster, Pa., during the middle years of the nineteenth century. By digitizing the years 1834-1872, patrons are provided with a view of politics and events of this tumultuous period from a liberal political slant, providing balance to the more conservative perspective of the Intelligencer-Journal, which was recently digitized by Penn State. |
Date | 1849-04-04 |
Location Covered | Lancaster County (Pa.) |
Type | Text |
Original Format | Newspapers |
Digital Format | image/tiff |
Language | English |
Rights | http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/NoC-US/1.0/ |
Contributing Institution | LancasterHistory |
Sponsorship | This Digital Object is provided in a collection that is included in POWER Library: Pennsylvania Photos and Documents, which is funded by the Office of Commonwealth Libraries of Pennsylvania/Pennsylvania Department of Education. |
Month | 04 |
Day | 04 |
Year | 1849 |
Description
Title | Lancaster Examiner and Herald |
Masthead | Lancaster Examiner and Herald |
Volume | 10 |
Issue | 18 |
Subject | Newspapers--Pennsylvania--Lancaster County |
Description | The Lancaster Examiner and Herald was published weekly in Lancaster, Pa., during the middle years of the nineteenth century. By digitizing the years 1834-1872, patrons are provided with a view of politics and events of this tumultuous period from a liberal political slant, providing balance to the more conservative perspective of the Intelligencer-Journal, which was recently digitized by Penn State. |
Date | 1849-04-04 |
Location Covered | Lancaster County (Pa.) |
Type | Text |
Original Format | Newspapers |
Digital Format | image/tiff |
Digital Specifications | Image was scanned by OCLC at the Preservation Service Center in Bethlehem, PA. Archival Image is a 1-bit bitonal tiff that was scanned from microfilm at 300 dpi. The original file size was 811 kilobytes. |
Language | English |
Rights | http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/NoC-US/1.0/ |
Contributing Institution | LancasterHistory |
Sponsorship | This Digital Object is provided in a collection that is included in POWER Library: Pennsylvania Photos and Documents, which is funded by the Office of Commonwealth Libraries of Pennsylvania/Pennsylvania Department of Education. |
Full Text |
VOL. XXIII.
LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 4, 1849.
NEW SERIES, VOL. XI-NO. 18.
PUBLISHED BY
EDWAftD C. DARLINGTON.
OFFICE IK KOBTH QUEEN STREET.
The EXAMINER & DEMOCRATIC HERALD is publiaheJ weekly at two dollaes a year.
ADVERTiTK.iiENTS not ejtseeding one square will be inserted threa times tor one dollar and twenty-five cents will bo charged for each addi¬ tional insertion. A liberal discount allowed to those who advertise by the year.
From the Lady's Book for April.
By DAVID M. STO.VE.
¦ CHAFTER I.—DISiPPOIXTMENT AND ENNUI.
' There is no such thing as disinterested love in woman !' said Frank Pendleton, as he threw himself upon lhe sofa in his elegantly furnished apartment, and covering his face wjth his hands, groaned aloud.
It was near two o'clock of an April morning, and Frank bad just returned from a fashionable party, one of the few given every year in our "good city at tbe close of Lent. The coachman, .. who had driven him to and from many a gay revel, as he sat liim down a few moments before at the door of his elegant boarding-house, was surprised at the sternness with which he declined his offer to ring the bell, and as he saw him open the door with his night-key, and close it after him with a full sweep ot his arm, he shook his head and muttered to himself—' Something be gone wrong with Massa Pendleton, dat certain.' It was true, something had gone wrong with llinl, and by casting our eyes a little backward upon his history, we shall see what it was.
Frank Pendleton was young, accomplished, rich, and a bachelor. He was left an orphan, and sole heir to a large estate, when in his six¬ teenth year ; bul he fell into good hands, and was not, therefore,altogetlier spoiled. His guardian, although not a relative, was a wise and judicious man, and finding Frank not unwilling to contin¬ ue bis studies, he encouraged him in bis purpose to acquire a collegiate education. Thus he was duly entered at Princeton, soon after his father's death, from which University he had graduated about a year previous to the time our story com¬ mences, with all the honors—and, what was still better, an unblemished reputation. As he did not choose to stndy a profession, and had now attained his majority, he was soon launched inlo the whirlpool of society. His fine, manly form, his intellectual face, with its broad, white fore¬ head and dark haze! eye, his elegant manners— and, more than all, (pardon nie, dear ladies,) his large property, made his presence not only every¬ where welcome, but particularly sought for by all intriguing mammas and sighing belles.
A pile of cards and notes of invitation were every day laid on his table j not a party-list was made out among his acquaintances without his name, and in the crowded assembly all were pleased with, and many eager for, the slightest notice or atteniion from him. But all this hom* age, strange as it may seem, did not turn his brain. He mingled, it is true, with the gay throng of revelers—he joined in the dance, or listened, without any tokens ot disgust, to . the flatteries that assailed his ear from every quarter, but his heart was not with them. In secret, he sighed for a quiet home, where with one dear companion (how often through his mind's eye bad he pictured her to himself!) he might enjoy the realities of life, undisturbed by the noise and :=i%!:';glitter of the artificial.
^i^i-^ 1 know there are those who think that there is nothing T«aZ in life but pain, and disappointment, and death ; and that to avoid a consciousness of these, it is wisest to keep up a perpetual round ot gay seemimgs, and thus forget all that we can of life's troubles, until we come to its closing scene. But Frank Pendleton knew better ; he had witnessed in the home ot his childhood—ero the dear names of father and viother^U^i come to be nothing bul sweet memories—niitiyasoene ot domestic bliss. He knew thai there was mean¬ ing in the words of love and breathings of affec¬ tion which had fallen on his infant ear, and that tho ties whicll bind husband to wife, parent to child, friend to friend, around the quiet household hearth, were not fetters galling to the spirit, but cords of love, drawing out all the sweet charities that grace can nurture in the heart of our fallen humanity.
^t how should he take thc first step towards securing such a home ? Where, among the daughters of earth, could he find a being to match * immage in his heart V He looked carefully over the Ust of his unmarried lady friends ; but the closer his scrutiny, the smaller grew the num¬ ber from whicll he felt willing' to select, until il was narrowed down to one; and she, he fondly hoped, would prove to be the one for whom he '-¦J^il^tJ^loag been sighing. He could find no flaw ¦ 'iSlier person or manners. He had not stipula¬ ted with himself for absolute beauty, but even if he had, here was no lack, for her features were nearly faultless. Her disposition, too, seemed amiable, and her heart was full of the kindliest impulses of our nature. But there was one trial more He had always dreaded lest some schem¬ ing girl should seek to marry him for his fortune, and ha determined to prove her here. He, there¬ fore, commissioned one of his most intimate friends to hint to the lady, confidentially, that he was about to lose his estate through some defect in tbe title, to see whether it would make any difference in her apparent estimation of him.— This had been done on the very day ot the party and he had pictured to himselt her disinterested affection rising superior to every consideration of mere dollars and cents, and holding him dear for himself alone. It is true, he had never told her his love, but his marked preference tor her was well understood among bis friends, and he had hoped that she would meet him on that ovenino- wilh a look of peculiar tenderness, which should say, • Though fortune leave thee, yei will not I.' Alas, for his self-love ! What was bis sur¬ prise to see a sneer ou her beauiiful lips as she met him in the gay saloon, and to encounter a cold glance of scorn from her hiiherlo loving eye! He was too proud to show his disappointment before so many watchful eyes, and therefore he laughed with the lightest and flirted with the gay¬ est, until a laie hour, being one of the last to leave the brilliant scene. Then, with an aching hearl, he sought his chamber : once b/ himself, a full sense of her seeming heartlessness came over him, and he uttered the exclamation with which this chapter opened.
• There is no such thing as disinterested love in woman. Al least,' he added, ' there is noth¬ ing but heartlessness in this cold city. If I were in the eountry and kept sheep, perhaps I might find some pure-hearted milkmaid who would love me .'"
Whether the fair maiden, whom he had begun to love, was really too selfish to marry a man with a reduced fortune, or whether (which lo my mind is more likely), she saw through the putposo of the story, and scorned him for his suspicions, we may never know; but he was mis. taken in supposing that the city i, more heartlesi than the conntry. There be beans as warm and true under the rich brocade as under the coarse homespun; but perchance they are not so open, and it requires more skill to stir their deep sym¬ pathies. Because the gay company to which he
had been accustomed, assumed an air of kindn^
and courtesy when their hearts were not touched.
he took it for granted that they had no hearts. . He knew not how many of those whom he condemned yearned, like himself, to be free from the slavery of chilling forms, and to pour out the treasures of their affection into some loving heart. We are all ot one parentage j and though the voice ot love that would be uttered in worda of burning eloquence in a tropical clime, may stam¬ mer as we approach the poles, still, wherever or however it may be uttered, it may still find an answering echo in somo kindred heart—for we are all formed to love.
Bul Frank Pendleton had been disappointed, and, like others suffering from the same cause, he chose to blame all rhankind ralher than him¬ self. He did not once ask ot his conscience it the trick he had put upon the lady was nol selfish and heartless, and himselt rightly punished in the result. He rose, at lasl, from tbe sofa, and walked to and fro in the room, al first in hasty strides, and then with a slower and raore irresolute step. He felt lost in the perfect blank to which his life had suddenly beeu reduced. There seemed be¬ fore him no objeci tor which to strive, and he al¬ most cursed the ample fortune which he fancied had shut him oul, not only from disinterested love, but from the great struggle of lite wherein he might occupy his mind and bury the remem¬ brance ot his sorrows. What were these thoughts but the stirrings of liisimmortal nature, breaking through the weighi ot mammon and the tetters of self-complacency, to teach liim the lesson which all votaries of the world must learn soon¬ er or later, that life's pathway is a weary pilgrim¬ age instead ot a garden of delights.
At last a way seemed open before him.
' What,' said he,' it I go among strangers, leaving behind me the knowledge of my posses¬ sions, excepi so far as I carry the secret in mine own bosom ?— surely I can win some fond heart to love me for myself alone. Eureka ! I have found il!—I will go to some quiet New England village J for they say that the simplest of the Yankee girls are full ot rare intelligence, and as modest as they are gifted.*
Fnll of this determination, he drew out and opened a large trunk, into which he packed a portion ot his wardrobe, and a few choice books and, having made all ready for his departure, he threw himselt upon the bed and fell into a sound sleep.
CHAPTER II.—THE COUNTRY.
It was nearly eight o'olock the next morning when the servant knocked at his door, to inquire if he was ready for breakfast. He sprang from his bed, and drawing aside ihe curtains looked forth trom the window. The previous day had been cloudy and unusually cold for the season i but the chiJl and the gloom were now gone, the glad sun shone forlh in his beauty, and even in the city every living thing seemed to have ac¬ quired renewed elasticity. He half repented of his sudden resolution as he looked out upon the brighl scene ; bul then there came, like a shadow across his mind, the memory of his bilter di»ap- pointment, and he delermined to adhere to his purpose. Hastily dressing himself, he wrote a note to his man of business^ dispatched his break fast, and al nine o'clock, without having taken leave of a single friend, was on his journey. He spent the following night in New York, and at six the nexl morning was on board the New Ha¬ ven as she cut hor path through the blue waters of the Sound, toward the cily after which she was named. He had formed no purpose as to what part of New England he would visit: and the place he finally selected, came lo be chosen as il were, by chance. The boat reached New Haven aboul eleven, and on the wharf nearest the landing was a large stage coach waiting for passengers. He knew nat which way it was going; but feeling certain thai in these days ot railroads a place must be comparatively secluded to which the readiest access was by a stage coach, he determined to take passage in it, go where it would. His baggage was accordingly transferred to its capacious boot, and he look a seal inside. The coach, after picking up two passengers in the city, and stopping at the post- office for the mail, started off on its journey.
Ah, thou dear New England ! how I love the rugged roads that pass over lliy rugged hills—to strangers so wearisome. How forcibly do they remind me, that in spite of the ups and downs of our mortal life, he that presses onward warily and cheerily, slill comes to the right goal al last. Il was near six o'clock as our traveller, after a ride of only eighteen miles, which, including all the stops and hindrances, had consumed over five hours, entered the defile leading to the vil¬ lage of 0 . This village has a singular sit¬ uation, being pent in on all sides by high hills, and bursting upon the traveler, who approaches il from the south, with a suddenness almosi startling. A merry, dancing rivulel issues from a defile in the mountains, and after being stop¬ ped here and there in its course, and made lo do servile work for man, still, with a spirit and me¬ lody unsubdued, dashes on to join with otVier streams in their course to the great sea. The road to the village meets this rivulet and winds along ils banks, now on this side, now on that, as it a bridge had been easier to construct than an j embankment, until it enters the very narrow de¬ file from whence the stream issues. Here it is thickly embowered with trees, and the stream hidden trom the eye by its drooping branches, is only betrayed byits ever babbling music. As you follow this defife for a fourth of a mile in its winding course, it suddenly widens, curving outwards to the width of a halt a mile, and meet¬ ing the road again nearly two miles to the north¬ ward, thus forming a sweel basin, in which lies the village, with a population of somo eighteen hundred or two thousand souls.
It was, as I said, about six o'clock as our tra¬ veler entered the village. The sun was just sinking behind the high western hills, and cover¬ ing the summits ot the eastern range wilh a man¬ tle of gold, while the village itself lay in a shad¬ ow as deep as that which had fallen on his own spirit. Thus, while the evening and morning seemed to meet, all that was brighl al raid-day lay in shade, as age in its closing hours overlooks tha shadow ot a long life, to fasten once more upon the precious dreams and golden promises of youth.
He was struck with the appearance of this, one of the most picturesque of our New England villages. Its neat white churches were tbe ems blems of puriiy of worship, and their tall spire- seemed lo be pointing to a belter world ; whilo the cottages and comfortable mansions, neatly fenced, and surrounded with fruii and shade trees, and arbors covered with the creeping jas¬ mine, all wore an appearance of comfort and con¬ tent. The inn also, was clean and inviting—in short, the place seemed jusl suited to his purpose, so he dismounted his baggage and soon made friends with his host. He was too weary to at¬ tempt a survey of the place that night, so after supper he sought his room, and being tempted by the clean, snowy sheets, was snon locked in the arms ot Morpheus.
He awoke in the morning refreshed bolh in body and mind; the change of air and place had worked like magic on his ipirits, and he felt buoyant and happy. After breakfast, he sallied forth on an exploring expedition, and climbing the high hills which oretlooked the place, he fairly shouted as he turned to gaze down into the
valley, so beautiful was the scene. After dinner ho walked to the upper end of the defile ; and, on his return, striking the rivulel, he followed ils course down through the village. As he neared the cluster of houses which compose what is called " the centre," he saw a beautiful white cottage standing on the bank of the stream, a lit¬ tle distance from the main road, half hid among the sheltering trees, which had just donned their manllB of green. The graceful woodbine which had twined around the casement, had nol yel fairly assumed ils spring attire, and through the openings in its branches, Frank noticed that the window was raised, as the day was quite warm tor the season. There was somelhing so attract¬ ive about the whole scene, that, scarcely know¬ ing why he did so, he approached slill nearer, until he distinguished the sound of voices. He would havo scorned to be called a listener, and yet his feel seeraed rooted to the spot as he over¬ heard the following conversation :
'Ellen, my dear, do lay aside llial work; I am sure it is hurting your eyes; see, the twilight has already set in. I cannot bear to see you toiling so steadily, for I know that you cannoi endure it. Come, lay il down, and sing me once more sorae ot your old songs—it is a long time since I have heard you sing to your harp.' •
' I cannot bear to sing lhe old songs, mother,' a low, tremulous voice replied; ' they remind me too strongly of other days.'
Then sing me a new one, dear—sing any you choose ; I am sure il will do us both good.'
There was a slighl rustling ot dresses, the harp was drawn from its resting-place, a little delay in tuning the instrumeni, and then a voice, whose richness and melody he had never heard exceeded, but whose tone of sadness was more touching even than the words, sang the following song, e'very word of which was as distinctly ut¬ tered as if she had been only reading it:—
* O mother, ask me uot to sing—
Gay songs arc ibr the happy-hearted; ~islv harp to mc no joy can bring,
For joy and I long since have parted. 1 do not weary of my lot.
Or ask from toil a moment's leiiiure ; 1 only beg thee, ask mo not
To sing wheu I've no heart for pleasure.
' No burdened heart will e'er believe , Tbat swans sing swcete.qt when they're dying : I never yet could sing and grieve—
¦My mnsic bath no tone for sighing. If I were happy, I would sing—
But ask me not when heavj'-henrted ; .My harp to menu joy can briug.
For joy and I long since havo parted!'
He listened entranced until the song was fin¬ ished, aud then ventured still nearer to catch, if possible, a view ot the tair musician, (tor fair he felt she must be,) but the mother rose aud closed the window, without perceiving that any oue was listening; and after wailing a whiie without hearing any renewal of the music, he returned to the inn with emotions which he had n.ever before experienced.
for settleraent, slung by the rejection of his snit, the honse previous to that hour, and when at he refused to allow it. The widow and orphan last the hour arrived, they followed the sheriff'
caAPTER III.—MIGHT AND THE DAW,^I.
The morning after this occurrence he sought of his landlord some information concerning the tair musician. All night long had the sweet lones lingered in his ear; even in his sleep he seemed still lo hear them as echoes from fairy¬ land. His host was garrulous, and as it was Sunday morning—a leisure one with him—he gave him the informaiion for which he sought, burdened with many a tedious digression. Not to be alike tedious, I will give the history in fewer words.
Ellen was the only child ofDr. John Mansfield, and was now living with her widowed mother. Her father, a physician of good repute, had been in very good praciice up lo the very day of his death; bul, boing, like too many of our profes¬ sional men, improvident of the future welfare of his family, had laid up little ot his yearly income, so that when suddenly called to die, he had noth¬ ing to leave them bul the cottage and garden where they lived, and even against these there were several outstanding debts.
But Mrs. Mansfield and her daughter did nol sit down in sorrow to bewail the past. Mourn for the dead, they certainly did; but with the en¬ ergy peculiar to the children ot ahardy soil, they sought to make the best of their straitened cir¬ cumstances. It is true, they had a shelter for their heads, but what is a home wilhout food 1 For this they felt they must depend on their own- earnings, and their only hesitation was how to make their labor the most available. Ellen was endowed by nature with rare talents, and had received an excellent education ;—she would readily have undertaken a school, but one ot the higher order was already established in the vil lage, and there was no room for another.
She might have gone abroad to teach, but she could not leave her mother alone, and her moth er could not bear to leave the home so rnuch en¬ deared to her. She looked around for employ¬ ment, for she eared noi what it was so that it was lionorable. Her mother was feeble and could do but Uttle ; but Ellen was young and strong, and full of hope. Alas, the only employment that offered in the village was that ot binding and trimming shoes. I say alas, not because that employment is degrading, but because, at the rate usually paid, it takes so many weary stitches to earn even a pittance. But Ellen went to work resolutely, and her employer, out ot sympathy tor her youth and loveliness, gave her the light¬ est portion of the work. Her flrst effort was lo pay off the few debts which were owing at the time of her father's death, that their little prop¬ erty might be unincumbered. But this accumu¬ lation of gains was a slow process. They lived in tho plainest manner, and yel having every¬ thing to buy, and all dependent on the little earn ings of those delicale fingers, poor Ellen had a sore time ot it. Slill she worked cheerfully, and would have succeeded in her plans had not an unexpected cause—something beyond the weari¬ ness of her daily toil—suddenly darkened her brightening prospects, put out the light of hope which, till now, had nerved her to her task, and hushed the music of her voice, which had once filled tho cottage with melody.
That cause I will briefly explain. A certain miserly fellow, named Hiram Grey, was the rich man ot the village. He was past middle age, and a bachelor; and ha had long looked on Ellen Mansfield with a covetous eye. He had made no advances while the good doctor lived ; but since his decease he had fairly persecuted the poor girl wilh his attentions. Besides being per¬ sonally disagreeable to her, his character was the detestation of the whole village, and it was no wonder that the fair girl did not favor his suil, or that when he urged it beyond measura after her decided refusal, she gave him, with some spirit, to understand her apprecialion of bis char¬ acter. Nor, considering the natural bent of the human heart, is it any wonder that he medita¬ ted revenge. He saw that his wealth, upon which he so much prided himselt, was not of suflicient value in her eyes to redeem his char¬ acler, and he delermined that she should learn to place a higher estimate upon it.
The estate of her falher was not yet settled, and Mr. Grey had put in his claim for over two hundred dollars: it was undersiood, however, that there was an offset to this claim for nearly or quite the samo amount, which would be al¬ lowed when the affair came to be adjudicated. But Mr. Grey had laid his plans deeply j he held in his hands the only proof of the payment of this offset, and when tho account was produced
had no funds to spare fot a lawsuit, even if their case had not been hopeless, and they now felt that they were enjoying their little property by the sufferance of their bitterest enemy. This had occurred just previous to the arrival ot Frank Pendleton at the village; and though with per¬ severing industry the fair girl worked on as be¬ fore, her toil, uncheered by hope, had become a burden to her—her head had begun to droop, and her eye, when her mother was absent, was often filled with tears.
It cannot be supposed that Frank heard her history without feeling a still stronger interest in her; and on a hint from the landlord that he would see her al church, he hastened to dress himself, choosing his plainest attire, and when the bell gave the signal for gathering, he loo joined the little band of worshippers.
But his heart was not in the service; his eye wandered over the assemblage in search of the one whose history had interested him so deeply; but his search was vain until the minister had given out that beautiful hymn—
' I would not live alway"— when a plaintive voice almost beside him, heard mingling ils pure melody with the voices from the choir, pointed her out to him. -She was dressed in black and Ihickly veiled, so that be cotild not see her face; but when the good min¬ ister had commenced his sermon, and the eyes of raost present were drawn to the pulpit, she quielly reraoved the veil, andall unconscious ot his gaze, sat in full view before hira. Never had he seen a lovelier face; her dark glossy hair was plainly parted over a brow of purest snow, and her beautifully arched eyebrows had the same silken covering; her cheek was nearly as pure as her brow, but het lips had the color of the sunny side of the ripest peach. Her eyes, how¬ ever, were tbe crowning beauty of her fair coun¬ tenance. They were quite dark, almost black, and had in theit depths a world ot intelligence. They were fastened on the minister, but the long, dark eyelashes hung drooping over them, as it they were fearful of exposing such a fiood of Ught and beauty.
Frank Pendleton gazed on her sweet face as if it were the only object in view, until, during a pause in the discourse, she casually lurned her eye towards hira, when, as she encountered his earnest look, there came a tinge of rose lo her pale cheek. It needed but this to have perfected the vision, and Frank felt that she was something more than beauiiful; that there was a soul look¬ ing out of those dark eyes which he could love, nay, which he loved already. The sermon was soon concluded, and the envious veil again cov¬ ered her fair face, but Frank carried her image in his heart. He went home like one in a dream. Once more in the solitude ot his own room, his resolution was soon taken, and Ije even trembled lest he might nol be ablo to win one whom he felt sure, were she his own, would be all toi which his heart had so long yearned. He easily gained admiitance to her dwelling, through the kindness of his host, to whom he had represented himself as an humble student, and as he carried there the voioe of kindness, begotten by the love overflowing al his heart, he was always readily welcomed, and his presence and con-yersation lighted up many a weary hour. As he saw her day after day toiling at her task, never laying down her work for a moraent's leisure, and al¬ lowing no conversatiPB to interrupt it, and all this in daily expectation of the crushing hand of the oppressor, who, she knew full weU, would sweep away all wiihin reach of his vengeance, his wonder at her self-sacrificing spirit gave plaee to new thoughts of life and its duties. He be¬ gan to inquire seriously if he had no responsibil¬ ities connecied wilh his being; if there were nothing in the course of Ufe he ought to pursue 10 link him to the great human family, who have been sentenced by" authoriiy of the Almighty to eat their bread in the sweat of their face; if it were not his duty, as the leasl he could do, to be bound in sympathy with the sons and daughters ot want, who feel the bitter meaning of the pri¬ meval curse. He thought of whal his past life, had been—a mere struggle to attain ease and happiness tor himselt alone. Wilh thoughi came penitence, and with penitence a resolution to live for the future as one of a large family, owing not only allegiance to a common father, but kindred affection and relative duties to allot his brethren This noble girl, he felt, would be jusl the help mate he needed in the course he had marked oul for himself ; bul he was nol certain of winning ber. He was sure she regarded him with favor —ha were blind not lo see that her face lighted up at bis approach, and that care sat less heavi¬ ly on her heart as she listened to his cheerful voice but he had also witnessed her self-denying spirit, and he was not sure that she would follow the impulse ot her heart He longed to ask her for a word of hope, and yet, as he sat by her side and looked into her sad, pale face, he felt alraost a delicacy in obtruding upon her sorrow with the advocacy of his suit. Still this seemed the only way that he could lift the burden poverty had laid upon her, and he determined to risk the ap¬ peal.
But her night was not yet at the darkest; while he was meditating the mosl delicate way of ex¬ pressing to her the state of his feelings, the blow came which she had so long dreaded. Mr. Grey pushed his claim, and the property was advertis¬ ed to be sold on a certain day. On the morning that the sale was to take place, Mr. Grey called on Ellen Mansfield, as he said, for the last time. He bade her remember how he had sued in vain for her tair hand, and he asked her which she would now prefer, his home or the parish work¬ house 7 It is not so great a grief to be poor if one be a strong man, and have no tender ones clinging to him for support, for the path of the lowly has fewer thorns than the highway ot the rich and mighty ; but to be poor and helpless, to be obliged lo bear the taunts and insults of the oppressor, and see no way of escape or redress, oh I this is one of earlh's bitterest sorrows. El" len would sooner have let her proud heart burst than she would have humbled herself before him, so she clasped her hands firmly upon her bosom to stop its heavings, and trusted not her voice to speak lest she might betray her emotion- But Mr. Grey was not yel saiisfied ; he was baulked ot part of his vengeance nnless he could sec her humbled ; so he continued—
' Ay, hold On to your heart while you may, proud one ; there will soon be othet work for your delicale liands, unless you die of shame first. ' Mr. Grey,' replied the fair girl, in a clear, distinct voice, while her bright tearless eyes wete fastened on his guilty face, 'it is no criine lodie!' He shrunk from the burning glance of her piercing eye as the beast of prey does from tbe bright sunlight, and with that word crime ringing in his ears, and filling his mind with terrible im¬ ages from his past life, he left her presence feel¬ ing that he alone had been humbled.
But when he was gone she sunk upon her knees in despair—turn which way she would, she could see no ray of light or comfort; all was dark as the shadow of death. The despoiler would soon be there to rob them of the few Ut¬ ile luxuries they had about them, and to sell their house over their heads.
The sale was to commence at ten o'clock; quite B number of persons were coUectid about
into the house. The latter gavo notice that the sale was to raise the sum of two hundred and twenty dollars with costs, and that all the arti¬ cles sold must be paid for on the spot. Frank Pendleton had gone to the sale with a determi¬ nation to buy in the property, and thus secure to the family. its undisturbed possession. As he glanced around tha room, he saw, on a toilet cushion, a finger-ring, which at first he thought ot some value, bat finally recognized as a cheap paste atfair, which a jewelry peddler, who had happened to come in one day at the dinner hour, had insisted od leaving in payment for his din¬ ner. A sudden thought struck him ; he would bid as much tor that ring as would be necessa¬ ry to pay the debt, and thus save the mortifica¬ tion of a ganeral sale. He according requested the sheriff to offer that first. He consented, and holding il up, asked for a bid. Frank offered • two hundred and thirty dollars.' At this bid every orie present opened their eyes wilh aston¬ ishment, excepi Mr. Grey ; he had had his open¬ ed aome tirae before when Frank was examining it, and had no doubt, from this circumstance, that the ring was a real diamond. He had nev¬ et seen one in his life, but had often read of the immense value attached to. some of them, and being very covetous, his eyes sparkled at the idea ot buying it cheap, and making on it pet- haps, a ihousand dollars—al any rate, he would be safe in bidding on it, for the young mau, he telt sure, would not be likely to offer at first any¬ thing like ils value. So he bid two hundred and fifly dollars. Frank saw through his motive, and determined to let him slay in the ttap where he was caught, so he made no farther bid ; and as none of the bystanders interfered, it was knocked down to the miser, who paid over the money—more than enough to cover the debl and costs—and the sale, of course, was stopped.— How Mr. Grey felt when ho ascertained that the ring was dear at a quarter ot a dollar, need not be told; but no one commiserated him, for all felt that he had overreached himself in attemp¬ ting to rob the widow and the orphan.
Frank found a hearty welcome awaiting him that evening at the cottage. During his visit, tor the first time since his attival, he saw the work laid aside, and those slender fingers had a respite. And yet not a respite eithet, for some¬ how, during the mother's absence, Frank con¬ trived to imprison them, and would not let them go until their fair ownet had consented to be his. ' And now, dear Ellen,' said the happy man wilh a roguish twinkle in his eye,' do you think you would be willing to work tor me as wearily as you have toiled hitherto ?'
' You forget,' she answered, while a bright smile, a sure prestige of happier days, lil up her beautiful face,' that labor is not a weariness when we work for those we love.*
'Bravely answered, my noble girl; but you may give yourself a long holiday from such toil, tor I am rich beyond thy wildest dreams; and yel thou art mote to me than all the rest ot my possessions, for through Ihee I first learned how to live.*
Genlle reader, it you lived with the writer in this large city, you might almost daily see a young man wilh a thoughtful bul happy face, walking wilh a busy step along the crowded sireet. He is hurrying forth on some errand of mercy, and conld you follow him bul a single day in his blessed ministry, you could hardly be¬ lieve he was the same man to whom I introduced you in the first chapter.
And that fair young woman, who sometimes leans on his arm lovingly as ayoung bride should, is often seen alone, or "with a single female friend, by the hearih of the poot, ot the bedside of the sick, or in the chamber of suffering. None of the objects ot her charity can tell why ker voice falls on their ear more tenderly than the lones of another, or why she is so gifted lo enter into all their feelfngs of sorrow or disappointment.— Bul we who have seen her toiling at the little cot¬ tage in that far off village between the hills, have the secret of her ready sympathy-—she was her¬ self one of earth's stricken ones, and has been labght in the same school.
That cottage has not passed away to strangers, and I can fancy that, even at this early season, the grass is green in that little yard, and the buds on the surrounding trees are swelling with the promise of a grateful shade ; and when the faint airs of summer breathe languor o'er the wearied trame in this hot oity,>I am sure that its little parlor will again echo wilh blithesome music.
FASHIONABLiG MII,I |
Month | 04 |
Day | 04 |
Resource Identifier | 18490404_001.tif |
Year | 1849 |
Page | 1 |
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