Lancaster Examiner and Herald

              VOL.. xxxn.
LijyCASTER^ PA., WEDNESDAY, JULY 14, 1858.
No.  33.
looked so Wae and distant from my ohMnW window. It was an old favorite jilao.^ ot mine. A broad wagon track led ttaongh: the woods, oat to a clearing on tie other eide, where was a liltle »,h«et of water, oalled the Fairy'sLooWng-OlMs. anda heatifalview of a lovely oonntiy, with the..Bt«ep greeU: hills fyingdown in the diatance, wrapliedin-a eoft
PUBLISHED BT ^„
EPWAKD C. DAEiJNGTON,
Thi BXASHNBE & DBMOCEATIC HERALD l,oubll.b.awMUy,atTWoiioiJ.iM«IJ"' ADVBETIBKMBNTS will be inserted at tho
On.&jiiani »»«    • ^ JJ     *,S M 1 gg^oy mantle ot oloud and, haxe.   I oonld
S'"lM.»."."".'."""-'-'- ijw     JIJ5       g g; I think of nothing irh?n I ^tood there on a fine
><     -"     '  annn     HI 00       60 <» Ln„ahiny day, but the long gajte of Bouyan's
1 Pilgrim through thS shepherd's glass, at the beaatifal oity towards whioh hi was journey¬ ing. And it seemed sometimes as if I oould wander " oyer the hills and far away," and loose myself in one of the fair valleys at the foot of those hills, and be content never to oome ont and faoe the weary world any more. I walked alowly thiongh the woods, with the siinshine falling throngh the green leaves i of the yonng beaohes in chequered radiance I on my path, drawing in long breaths of the j freah air, and feeling a tingling in my veins I and a glow at my beart, as if the blood wero i Bowing newly there, nntil I came tothe Httle I oircnlar grove of pines and hemlocks, that led 1 ont npon the Fairy's LookingGlasa. Some- ' thing stirred as I pierced my way throngh j the branches, and I heard a low growl.
A girl was half-sitting, half-lying, in tho '¦ sunshine beside the little lake throwing peb- dles into the water, and watching the ripply j that spread and widened to the other shore. ' A great blaok Newfoundland dog was etan- i ding between me and her, showing a formi dable row of strong, white teeth, and looking , me threateningly in the face. ! She started and looked sharply.round, and ' saw me standing in the little grove with the ; dog between us.   She burst out laughing.
I felt that I was cntting rather a ridiculous ; figure, but I put a bold face npon the matter, : and asked coolly, !'   " Are yon Alice Kent ?" " People call me bo."
" Then i suppoae I may call you consin, tor I am Frank Atherton ?"
" Cousin Frank I   We have been expecting you this week.   When did you come ?" " .Tuat now.'!
She made room  for me beside  her.   "We talked long, about our family, our mntnal frienda, and the old homestead of the Ather- tons, which ahe had seen, thoagh I had not. —She told me about the house, and our cous¬ ins wbo were living there, and I sat listening, looking now and then at her, and the great ! dog lying at her feet.   I wondered, almost as my aont had done, if this was indeed the ' Alice Kent of whom I had heard so muoh. She was dressed plainly, very plainly,  in  a kind of gra.T material, that fell aroand her in light soft fold-   A knot of plain blue ribbon fastened her linen .collar, and a  gipsy hat, * lying beside her, was trimmed with the same . color.   Her watch chain, like a thread of gold , and a diamond ring, were the only ornaments ahe wore.   Yet I had never seen » dresa I (liked so well.   She was tall (too tall I should have said, had she been any one else; for, ' when we were standing her head was almost level with mine) and slender, and quick and agile in all her movements.   Her brown hair
¦ BDSIHBSs'KOTVo'Es'inMrted before Matllagw and D«;jhs, double th«r«gii:«rrat«. .. „. ^niiiMla-
A- ill ad.ertWag aecottnt. are «o»!'3«"^°n"S. bl^ft the explrUlOb of hrit tbe ferlod «oalr.«.a rot. tramlect adverUeoment, caaH.
EIEEHAL nrsiicB.
ar CHistEi MinsAi-
to tboBsandB of fainting bearta. Tbainan U thoughl a knave or fooL
Or bigot, plotting crime Who for the advancement of Ma kind.
It Trii«r than bis time. For him the hemlock abaU dl»lU,
For him the a<e be bared j For bim the gibbet shall be built.
For bim the etake prepared: Him ahall tbo ecorn and wrath of men
Purfne with deadly aim; And malice envy, apite and Ilea.
SbaU desecrate hla name. Bul Truth (*haU cnnquer at the laet,
For round and round we mu; And ever the Right coraen nppennonl.
And ever !a JctaUee done.
Paati throngh thy cell, old Socratett,
Cheerilv to and fro; Truat to the ImpoUe of thy aonl.
And let tbe poison flow. Tbey may shatter to earth the lump of clay
That boldH a Ught divine, Bnt they cannot finencb the flre of thongbt
By kdV Hoch deadly wine. They cannot blot thy upoken word"
Rrom the memory of man. By all tbe poinon ever w«h breWd
Since time ita conree befan. To-day ahhorr'd. to morrjw adored.
So rouud and rouud wo run; And ever the Truth cimet appurm.t-t.
And ever is Jm-tice doue.
Plod in thy care, gray anchorite;
Be wiser than liiy peers; AoKiueot Ihe r«BCe of human power.
And trnst to ci^mlog yearx. They may call tliM wiz;ird and inook accura«d. .
And load thee with dl«pr.-iltie; Thou wert burn flve hnndred V'-ani too <*o.io
For the comfort of thy dayh: Bnt not loo noon for tinman kind.
Time hath reward Is >itore. And the demonw of onr i-ires become
The '.ainttt that we adore. Tbe blind can »ee, tha ?Iave id lord.
So round and round we rnn: And evtr the wronif in proved lo be wrong,
And ever la Jnstice dune- Keep. Qalileo. to thy thought.
And nerve thy mjuI to bear: They may gloat o'er the senaelets worda they wr.ing
From the paags of (by dewpalr; They may veil tbelr eyen. bat they cannot hide
Tbe knu'e meridian glow; Tha heel ofa priest may tread thee dowu.
And a tyrant work thee woo; But never a truth ban been deslroy'd,
Theymay curse It and call It a crime Pervert and betray, or blander and tlay
ItG (eachfre for a time. Bnt tbe fuu»hine. aye, uhall Ught tbe xky,
Aa ronnd and round we run ; And tbe Tmth eball ever come nppermoHt.
Aud Justice ^ball be done.
And Uve there uow such men a4 these.
With thoHKhtM like tbe ffr^at of o]d* Many havn died iu their w"onry.
And left their Ihonght nntold ; And many live, and are ranked aa mad.
Aud placed In tbe cold world'H ban. For sending their bright, far-xeeing souIa
Three centnriei* in the van. They toil In penury and arivT,
Unknown, if not maligned; Forlorn, forlorn, bearing tho ncom
Ofthe meanest of mankind! Bnt yet the world goes ronnd and round.
Aud the genial Heatons run; And ever the Truth comes uppermost.
And erer ia Ju^Uce done.
loponiiergreyi^ny.FriiDlavolo;aiidleapea idea found its way iato my head and whia-: him ov^r the garden gate, and shookher whip pered that I waa m^g a ohild of my wife aancily in my face, I laid aside' my book to by my MaIgenVwayfj/andthath?r oharaoter admire her ridlog, and nevertbonght her un- would never develop ita strength in ao mnch woimsmly and angraoefuU aunshlne.   I acted upon that thought, for-
We grew to be great frienda—like brother getting how ahe had already been tried in the and siater I uaed.to^ay to myself. How that fiery furanoe of affliolion; and, quite nnoon- liking glided gradually into loving, I oould sclous, that while she was'getting back all not have told.. I met her one day In the vil- the innocent gaiety of her childish years, the lagfi atreet. I tumed a comer, and oame deep lessons of her womanhood were still ly- upon her suddenly. She waa walking slowly Jng beneath tho sparklmg aarface of her play- along with her di^ beaide her, and her eyes   ful ways.
fixed upon the ground, looking graver and ' If, for a time, she had charmed me out of more thonghtful than I had ever seen her my graver self, I resolved tobe charmed noi before. At sight of me her whole face bright- : more. I devoted myaelf again to mj busi" enedauddenly; yet ahe. paaaed me with a ness, heart j^nd aonl, and sat poring for bonrs slight nod and a smile, and took her way | over law papers withont speaking to her.— towarda ho,me    Seeing that flash of h'ght '¦ Yet she did not odmplain.   Sol()Dga8 she
WOKT ASJ) LOST. CHAPTER 1. Why did I marry her?   I had often asked
; was soft and pretty, but she wore it carlessly myself the question, in the days that snccee- pushed away from her forehead; not arran- ded our honeymoon. By right, I should have ged with that nicety I should have expected married no one. Yet I loved her, as i love in a city belle. Her features were icregular, her Btill. ¦ full of life and spirit,  bat decidedly plaiu;
She was, perhaps, the strangest character ; her complexion fair, her mouth rather large, of her age. Inliergirlhood, Icouldnot com- ' frank and smiling ; her eyebrows arched, as prebend her; and I often think, when I raise ' if they were asking question; and her eyes xay eyes to her grave, quiet face, as she sits i large, and of*a soft dark grey, very pleasant opposite me at dinner, tbat I do not compre- to look unto, very puzzling too, as I found bend her yet. There are many thoughts afterwards to my cost. Those eyea were tbe working in her brain of which I know noth- i only beauty sbe possessed, and she uncon. ing, and flashes of feeling look out at her ! sciously made the most of them. Had ghe eyes now and then, and go back again, as i been a Carmelite nun, she would have talked captivrs might steal a glimpse of the outer i with them ; she could not have helped it.— world through their prison bars, and turn to j When they laughed, it seemed their normal tUeir brick-walled solitude once more. Sbe i state—the bright-beaming glance they gave ; » is my wife: I have her and hold her as no \ but, when they darkened suddenly and grew otber can. She bears my name aud sits at : softer and deeper, and looked up into the the head of my table ; she rides beside me I face of any unfortunate wight with an ex- in my carriage, or takes my ann as we walk; ! pression peculiar to themselves, heaven help
and yet I know and feel, all the time, that the i darling of my past has Jled from me forever, ^ and tbat it is only the ghost of the gay Alice, whom I won in all the bloom of her bright youth, that lingers near me now.
She was not a child when I married her, though she waa very young. I mean, that life had taught her lessons which are gener¬ ally given only to the gray-haired, and had laid burdens upon her which belong of right to the old. She had been an unloved child, and .it the age of sixteen she had been left to herself, and equally dependent on hei own exertions. Friends and family she had none, ao she was accustomed laughingly to say; bnt I bave since found that her sisters were liv¬ ing, and in happy homes, even at the time when she accepted that awful trust of her- se'f, and went oat in the greait world to fulfil it. Of this part of her life she never speaka; but one who kuew her then has told me mnch. It was a time of straggle and paio, as well it mightbavebeen. Fresh from the Ufe of a large boarding school, she was little fitted for the bnstle of a great selfish city ; and the tears come to my eyes as I think, with a kind of wonder, ou the child who pushed her way throagh difficulties at wbich strong men have quailed, and made herself a name, and a po¬ sition, and a horae. She was a writer, at first 1 a drudge, for the weekly press, poor y'paid, and unappreciated. By-and-by, brighter daya dawned, and the wolf went away from the door. She was admired, read, soaght after, and—above all—paid. Even then, she could not use the wisdom she had purchased at so dear a rate. She held her heart in her hand, and it waa wruug aud tortured every day.
" I may as well stop breathing as stop lov¬ ing," she would say, with a happy smile.— " Don't talk to me aboat my folly. Let me go on with my toys ; and if they break in my hand, yoa cannot help it, and I .shall not come to you for sympathy."
She was not beautiful; bnt something— whether it was her bright, happy face, or lhe restless gaiety of her manner—bewitched people, and made tbem like her. Men did tbe maddest things imaginable for her sake ; and not only young men in whom folly was pardonable, but those wbo should have been too wi3e to be caught by the sparkle of her smile, or the gay riuging of her laugh. She did not trust them ; her early life had tanght her better; but 1 think ahe liked them for awhile, till some newer fancy came, and then she danced past them, and waa gone.
It was in the country that I met her first; and there she was more herself than in the oity. We were distant relatives, though we bad never seen each other, and the fates sent me to spend my summer vacation with my mother's aunt, in a country village, where she was already domesticated. Had I known this, I shoald have kept my distance; for it waa only a fourteenth or fifteenth cousinshlp that lay between us, and I had a kind of hor¬ ror of her. I hardly knew why. I was a steady-going, quiet sort of lawyer, and hated to faave my short holiday of rest and quiet brokeu in npou by a fine lady. I said aa muoh to my aunt, in return for herannounce- ment of "Alice Kent ia here," with which ahe greeted me. She looked over her specta¬ cles in quiet wonder as I gave her a alight sketch of the lady's city life, aa I had had it from the lipa of "Mrs, Grundy," her^lf.    '
"WeU—live and leam, they say- But whoever would think it was our Alice yqji are talking of, Frank f However, TU say no more about her I You'll have plenty of time to get acquainted with her, in the month you mean to pass here. And we are glad to see yon, and your bed-room is ready,—the one yoa uaed to like."
I took up my hat, and stroUed away to have a look at the iarm. By-and-by, I got over the orchard wall, and orosaed the brook, and the high road, and went oat into the grove behind thehonae, whoae farthest trees were growing on the side of the hill which
him!
Though I had kuown her onlyfive minutes I felt this, when I ohanced to look up and met a curious glance she had fixed on me. She had ceased tc talk, and was sitting with her lips half apart and a lovely color man¬ tling on her cheek, studying my face intently when our eyes met. There was an electric kiud of shock in the gaze. I saw the color deepen and go up to her forehead, and a shiver ran over me from head to foot. It was dangerous for me to watch that blush, hut I did; and I longed to know its causa, and wondered to know what thonght bad brought it.
"Fred, bring me my hat," she said to her dog, affecting to yawn. "It is time for na to go homS to supper, I suppose. Are yon hungry, cousin Frank!"
"Yes—no", I answered, with my thoughts still rnsbing on that blush.
She laughed good-naturedly, and took the hat from the Newfoundland, who had brought it in bis mouth.
"How fond you are of that great dog," I said, as we rose from oar seat beneath the tree.
" Fond of him ?" She stooped down over him with a sudden impetuous movement, ! took his head betweeu her two hands, and kissed the beanty spot on hia forehead.— j " Fond of hiro, cousin Frank ? Why, the dog is my idgl! He is the only thing on earth who is or has beeu true to me, and the only
thing " She stopped short, and colored.
" That you have been true to," I aaid, fin¬ ishing the sentence forher.
" So people say," she answered, with a laugh. But look at him—look at those beau¬ tiful eyes, and tell me if auy oue could help loving him. My poor old Fred 1 So honest in tbis weary world."
She sighed, and patted his head again, and he atood wagging his tail and looking up into her face, with eyes that were as sbe had said, beautiful, and, what was better far, brimful of love and honesty.
"I doubt if you will keep pace with ua," ahe said, after we had walked a few atepa ; " and Fred is longing for a race; I always give him one through the woods. Would you mind ?" "Oh dear, no!"
The next moment she was oS'llke the wind, and the dog tearing after her, barking till the woods rang again. I saw her that night no more.
CHAPTER II. I was, as I have already said, a grave, steady-going lawyer, verging towards a respec¬ table middle age, with one or two gray hairs ahowiog among my blaok locks.   I had had my dreams and fancies, and my hot, eager, ] generons youth, like moat other men; and they had passed ai^ay.   Bnt one thing Ihad not known, one thing I had missed C^ave in my dreams,) and that was a woman's love. If I ever gave my visions a body and a name, they were totally unlike all the reali¬ ties 1 had ever seen. • The wife of my fireside reveries was a alight, deUcate, gentle.creature, with a pure pale faoe, sweet lipa, the bluest and clearest of eyea, the softest and finest of golden hair, and a voice low and sweet, Itfce the murmuring of an .^olian harp.   And ahe sat by my chair in silence; loving me always, bnt loving me silently, and her name was I Mary.   I dare say, if I had met the original of thia placid picture in life, I should have wooed and won her, and have been utterly- miserable.
So, as a matter of course, I fell into danger now. When Alice Kent went singing imd dancing through the house, leaving every door and window open aa she went, I need ofteu to lay down my pen and look after her, and feel aa if tho aun shone brighter for her heing there. When alie raced throngh the grove or orchard with the great dog at her heela, I smiled and patted Fred on the head; when ahe rode paat the house at a hand gal.
play over her ^rave fiwe, and feeUng the and¬ den bound with which my heart eprssg np to meet It, 1 knew what we were to eaoh other.
The farmer and.hifl wife had ^ne to bed, the children were at a merry-making at the next house, and a solitary Ught bnmed from the parlor window, which was open. The fall moon abone fairly in a aky witbout a cloud. I unfastened the «ate and went in; and there in the open door aat Alice, with a light shawl thrown over her shoulders, her head resting on the ahaggy ooat of the New- fonndland dog. Hb beautiful brown eyea watched me aa I oame up the path, but he did not stir.
I sat down near her ; bat on the lower step, BO that I uould look up in her face.
" Alice, you do not look well."
"Bnt I am. Quite weU. I am going away to-morrow."
" Going away!   Where ?"
" Home. To London. WeU ? What ails yoa, cousin Frank ? Did you never hear of any one who went to London before ?"
" Yea: but why do you go ?"
"Why?" She opened her eyea and looked at me. "For many reasons. Firstly, I only came for six weeks, and I bave stayed nearly three montha; secondly, because I have bnai¬ ness which cau be put off no longer; and thirdly, because my friends are wondeiing what bn earth keeps me here so long C^bey will aay soon, it is yon ,Frank). They vow ther cannot do without me any longer, and it ia pleasant to be missed, you know."
"And ao you are going baok to the old life, Alice? And by-and-by I suppose you wUl marry."
I would not advise any man, be he old or young, in caae he doea not think it wiae or prudent to marry-the woman he lovea, to linger with her in the doorway of a silent farmhouse, and hold her hand, and look out upon a moonlight night. The touch of the amall slight fingers was playing the mischief with my good resolutions, and my wisdom (if I had any.)
"Alice," I said softly; and I almost atarted aa ahe did, at the sound of my own voice, '.t was so changed. "Alice, we have been very happy here."
"Very."
I took both her hands and held them close in mine. But she wonld not look at me, though her iace was turned that way.
"There ia a great difference between ua dear Alice. I am much older than you, and much graver. I have never loved any wo¬ man but you in all my life, wbile you have charmed a thonsand hearts, and had a thou sand fancies. If you were what the world thinks yon, and what you try to .make your¬ self out to be, I should say no more than thia—I love you. But I know you have a heart. I know you can love, if you will; and oau be true, if you will. And so I be¬ seech you to talk to me honestly, and tell me if you can love me, or if you do. I am not used to asking snch questions of ladies. Alice, and I may seem rongh and rude ; bnt believe me when I say you have won my whole heart, and I cannot be happy witbout you."
"Yes I believe you,'J she said.
•'But do you trust me, aud do you love me ?"
She might trifle with a trifler, but she was earnest enough with me.
"I trust you, and love you," she answered, frankly. "Are you wondering why I can stand before you, and speak so calmly ?— Because, I do not think X shaU ever marry yon. Yoa do not love me, as I have always said my husband should love me. I am wayward and exacting, and I should weary your life out by my conatant craving for tenderness. I was made to be petted, Frank; and you, though a loving, are not an affec¬ tionate man. You would wish me at the bottom of the Red Sea before we had been married a moutb; and, because you could not get me there, you would go to work and break my heart, by way of amusement. I know it aa well aa if I bad seen it all—even
now."
She looked at me, and all her woman's heart aud natnre were in her eyes. They Spoke love and passion, aud deep, deep teu- demeaa—and aU for me. Something leaped into Ufe in my heart at tbat moment which I had never felt before—^something that made my affection of the last few hours seem cold and dead beside its ferved glow. I had her in my arms within the instant^close—close to my heart.
"Alice! if ever man loved woman with heart and soul—madly and unreasonably if you will, but still truly and honestly—I love yoa, my darUng."
"Bat WiU it laat ?   0, Frank, wiU it last ?" I bent down, aud our lips met In a  long, fond kiss.
"You will be my wife, Alice ?" She leaned her pretty head against my arm, and her hind stole into mine again.
"Do you mean that for your answer ? Am I to keep the hand, dear Alice, and call it mine?"
"If you wHI, Francis." It was the first time she had ever given me that name. Bot she never called me by any other again, dntil s*he ceased to love me; it sounds sweetly in my memory now, and it will sottud sweetly to my dying day.
CHAPTER m. We were married not long after, aud for six months we dwelt in a "Fool's Paradise." Wben I think, that bnt for me; it might have lasted to our dying day, I can only sigh, and take up the burden of my Ufe with an aching heart.
They had called Alice fickle—oh, how wrongly 1 No human being conld be traer to another than sbe was to me.
"I only wanted to find my master^ Francis," she used to say, when I laughed at her about it. "I was looking for him throagh aU tbose long years, and I began to think he wonld never come. But, from the flrat momen* wben I heard you speak, and met yonr eyea, I fplt that he waa near me. And I am glad to wear my master's chains," she added, kissing my hand.    •
And I am sure she was in eameat. I pleaaed her best when X treated her moat like a child. She waa no angel—a passionate, high-spirited creatnre. She rebelled a thou¬ sand times a day, although she delighted in my control. But it waa pretty to see her, when she turned to leave the room, with fire in her eyea, and a deep flush on her cheek- it waa pretty to see her with her hand upon the look even, drop her proad head submis- rively, ^d wait when I aaid—"Btop. Shut the door, and listen to me." Yet it waa dan¬ gerous. I, who had never besn loved before, what oould X do but become a tyrant, when a creature ao noble aa this bent down before me?
She loved me. Every chord of her most sensitive heart thrilled and trembled to my touch, aud gave forth sweetest music; yet I
was not satisfied.   I tried the minor key.	
Throngh her deep affection for iine I woonded her oraeUy.   I oan see it now.   Some wUt
was oertain that I Joved her, ahe was eon- tent, and took up her pen again, and if ent on with the work oar marriage had interrupted. Her writing desk was in my sttidy, by a win¬ dow juat oppoaite mine; and sometimes-1 wonld oease to hear tbe rapid movement of her pen, and, looking np, I would find her eyea fixed upon my faoe, whUe a happy^mile was playing around her lips. One day that glance fonnd me in a most unreasonable mood. The sense of her love half pained me, and I said ourtly:
" It is bad taate, AUce, to look at any one in that way."
She dropped her pen, only too glad of.an excnse to talk to me, and came and leaned over Tay_ ohair. . "And why? when I love some one."
This.was abad beginning of the leason I wanted to teach her, aud I turned over my papers in silence.
" Do X annoy you, Francis ?"
" Not much."
Her light hand was playing with my hair, and her breath was warm ou my oheek, I felt my wisdom vanishing, and tried to make np for its loaa by au increased coldneas cf manner.
" One kiss," she aaid "Juat one, and I'll go away."
" What nonsense, Alice. Wh it time have X to think of kiaaes now ?"
-She stood np, andiooked me in the face.
"Do I tease you, Francis ?"
"Very much."
She gave a little sigh—ao faint tbat X could scarcely hear it—and left the room. I had scared her gaity an ay for that morning.
This was the first oloud in our aky.
It seema strange, now, when X look back upon it after the lapse of years, how per?eT- eringly X labored to destroy the foundation of peace and happineas on which I might have built-my life. The remaining six months of that yfar were montha of misery to me, and, I doubt not, to Alice, for she grew thin and pale, and lost her gaiety. I had sncceeded only too well in my plan, and she had learned to doabt my affection for ber. X felt this by the look in her eyes now and then, and ly the way in wbich she seemed to cling to her dog, as if hia fidelity and love were now ber only hope. But I was too proud to own my¬ self in the wrong, and the breach widened day by day.
In tbe midst of all this entrangement the dog sickened. There was a week of misgiv¬ ing on Alice's part, when she aat beside him with her books, or writing all the time—there was a day when both books aud manuscript were put away and she was bending over him, with her tears falling fast, as ahe tried to hush his moans, and looked into his fast glazing eyes^and there was an hoar of still¬ ness, when she lay on tho low coach, with her arm around bis neck, neither .^peaking no^stir^iog. Aud when tbe poor creature's last breath was drawn, she bent over him with a passionate burst of grief, kissed .the white spot upon his forehead, and closed the soft, dark eyes, that even in death were turned towards her with a loving look.
She did,not oome to me for sympathy.— Sbe watched alone, while tbe gardener dug a grave and baried him beneath the atudy window. She never mentioned him to me, aud never paid her daily visit t^ his grave till I was busy with my papers for tho eve¬ ning. So the year, which bad begun lu love and happiness, came to its olcse.
X aat in the study alone, one morning in the February following, lookiug over some deeds that had been long neglected, wheu X heard Alice singing in the balcony ontside the window. It was the firat time X bad heard her sing since Fred's death, and X laid down my pen to listen. But hearing her coming through the hall X took it up again, and af¬ fected to be very busy.
It was a warm, bright, and beautiful day, and abe seemed to bring a burst of aunUght and happiness with her as she opened the door. Her own face, too, waa radiant, aud she looked like the Alice of the old farm¬ house, aa she came on tiptoe aud beut over my chair. " Well, what is it ?" I asked, looking up. She laid a pretty little bt^nquet of violets, tied with bine ribbons, befora me.
" I have been to the conservatory, and bave bronght you the first flowers of the aeason, Francis. And something else, which, per¬ haps, you may not like ao well."
She bent over me as she spoke, and lean¬ ing her band lightly on my shoulder, kissed me twice. Sbe had been chary ofher caresses, for aome time ; aud, when ahe did this of her own accord, X wheeled round in my chair, aud looked up at ber.
"You seem very happy lo-day, Alice." " It is somebody's birthday," she said, sta¬ tioning herself upon my knee, and looking into my eyea. " And I wiah somebody very many returns:"—her voice faltered aUf.le— " and if there has been any wrong feeling, Francis, for the last six months, we will bury it to-day, now and forever."
She clung to'me in silence, and hid her face npou my breast. I was moved, in apite of myself, and kissed the brown hair that was scattered over my shoulder, "and said X^waa quite willing to forget every thing (as if I had anything to forget!) At which sbe looked up witha brightsmile, and I dare say thought me very magnanimoos.
" And we will make a new beginning from this day, Fraucia."
" If you will, my child."
aakeofmfne, by the way—SaInt Franola of Sales—who   was  aoouatoined to  say, that one shoald never aak or refase anything." "WeUl    But I'm not talking to  Saint Francis; X am talking to you.    Will you have my gift?   Say yes—jnst to pleaae me —^jusl to piake my happy day happier." " Dou't be a child, Alice." " Xt is ohUdiab, I know ; but indulge me thi£ once. It ia such a little thing, and it will make me very happy."
" I ahall not refuse whateveryon choose lo give me. Only don't delay me long, for I want to go on with theae pfpers."
The next moment she threw the toy (a pretty Httle bronze inkstand made like a Capid, with his quiver fall of pens) at my feet, and tamed away, grieved and angry. I stooped to pick up tho figure—it was brokeu in two.
" Oh, yon oan condescend to lift it from tho ground 1" she said, sarcastically.
" Upon my word, Alice, you are the most unreasonable of beings.   However, the little God of lore oan be easily mended." "Yes."
She plaoed the fragments one upon the other and looked at me.
"It oan be mended, but the accident must leave its trace, like aU others. . Oh, Fran¬ cis 1" aba added, throwing herself down by my chair, and lifting my hand to her lips.— " Why do you try me ao ? Do yon really love me T"
" AUce," X aaid, impatiently, " do get up. You tire me."
Bhe roae and turned very pale., " X will go then. But first anawer my ques¬ tion.   Do you love me, Francis ?"
I felt anger and obatinaoy in my heart— nothing elae.   Was she threatening me ?
" Did you not love me when you married me Francis ?"
"I did.   But "
" Bnt you do not love me now?" " Since you will have it," I said. "Goon!"
" I do not love—not as you mean." There was a dead silenc •< in the room as the lying words left my lips, and she grew so white, aud gave me such a look of anguish that X repented of my cruelty, and forgot my anger.
" X do not mean that, Alice." X cried, " You look ill aud pale. Beleive me I was only Jesting."
"lean bear it Fraucia. There ia nothing on this earth that cannot be bome—^in one way or other."
She tumed aud left the room quietly and sadly. The sunshine faded just tben, aud only a white, pale light came through the window. X so connected it with her sorrow, that to this day I can never aee the golden radiance come and go across my patb, with¬ out tbe aame sharp knife-like pafag that t felt then, as the door closed behind her.
Ufe to the dead'; but she did not move. She was like a stattie in my arms, and only looked at me aiid sighed.
" Too late I   Too late, Frank I"
"Will yon nevefr forgive me ?"
" Forgive ? Do you think I have one un¬ kind thoaght or feeling towards you, Frank ? Ah, no I But X am ohllled throngh and throngb, ' My love la dead and buried.— Stand away from its grave, and let ixb meet the world as we beat may."
I leaned my head bpoh my hands, and my tears feU, and I waa not ashamed of them.— But they aeemed to rouse her into a kind of frenzy,
"You? She exclaimed soddenly. "You, who a year ago sowed the aeed which has bome tbis fruit, canyon weep over your hus¬ bandry now ? Don't Frank ! Take what I oan give you—take my earnest friendship— and God graut we may never part, here or in heaven."
" Ahl in heaven—if we ever get th* re—^you will love me again,"
She quoted theae sad words 'which poor St. Pierre uttered ou his dying bed :
" Qne feralt ima ame leolee daoa 1« del memeT" {What would an isolatad.aool do, evaa in Heaven itself}
and laid her hand gently on mine.
" Heaven knows, dear Alioe, that I loved you on that unhappy day, snd love yod still I" . " I am glad to hearit,"she aaid hurriedly. " Heaven only knows what daya and nights wera mine at first. For my Ufe had been wrapped up in youra, Frank, and it was ter¬ rible to separate them. I thoaght at first that X oonld not live. I aappose evety one thinks so, when a heavy blow falls. Bnt strength was given me, and by-and-by, peace. We seem like two gray shadows, Frank, in a silent world, and we mnst only wait God's time ; and hope tbat, on the other side of the grave at least, this great mistake may be set right. Believe me, I am happy iu being with you, Frank—happy in thinking that the same roof shelters us, and that we sball not part tni one of us two dies."
I opened my arms, and, ofher owu accord, she came lo my heart once more ; her arms were aronnd my neck, and her head upou my shonlder, and her lips meeting mine. Not as they used to do, yet tenderly aud kindly.
" We are older and wiser than we were, and sadder, too, dear Frank," she said with a smile. " Yet who knows ? It may be that all the love haa not left us yet."
And thua that chapter of our life ended,
We have never tonched upon the subject since; but I have waited calmly for years, aud the same quiet Ught shines always in the eyes of AUce; the same deep, sad tone thrills my heart when I hear her speaking or sing¬ ing. An angel oould scarcely be gentler or kinder than she who was once so impetuous and full of fire. She was usreasonable- and exacting and ardent and imperious In those daya, I know, aud my slower nature waa always on the strain to keep pace with hers; bnt, what a bright, joyous, happy creature ahe waa!
It would have been different bat for me.— 0 you, wbo read this little tale, remember in time that a^kind word and a loving look cost Uttle, although they do snch great work; 1 and that there is no wrong so deep as wrong I done to a loving heart.
The PBSssyLVAKiA School Jo0b.val.  Thos. H.
Bnrrowes, Lancaster, Pa.   July, 1858.
Thoae who are not subscribers to the School Joat?ial, wiU aee from the foUowing table of contenta of the July number that, tbe aub- jeots discuaaed are of a nature that should elicit a very general intereat :—
Call for sute Association; CaU for Nation¬ al Teachers' Association.
EniTORiAi. Matteh.—Items; The Seventh Volume ; English Industrial Schools ; Official Matter.
Edccatiosal SociETiEg.—Butler county Xn- atitute; Delaware county Institute; Erie county Association; Ltfzeroe county Institute.
Obzoi.tal CosisroHrcATioNS.—Improvement of School Grounds: Education in Schnylkill county; SpelliDg off the Book; Short Sohool Terms; Elevate your Profes ion ; Education in Beaver county; Directors and Tenchers ; iSnglish Poetry throagh French Eyes.
AnnsESSEs, Reports, &c.—Darkness and Dawn; Diffusion of Sound Knowledge; Board- inK Round; Proper Spirit of a Student.
CHAPTER IV.
Alice became weaker and grew really ill. A tour on the continent was strongly recom¬ mended by the doctora as the likeliest meana of reatoratiou. It was impossible for me to go; bat some friends of ours, one Mr. and Mrs- Warrener with a young danghter, were going to Italy for six months, and it was arranged that Alice should accompany them. ; *^'^-
They remained abroad nine months instead j Coppsb and Tba.—Oar readers know that of six. People wondered and joked about ¦: we consider the regular and moderate Ur;e of my wife's deserting me; but I only laughed, ¦'tea and coffee, for breakfast .md sapper, a and aaid, I should aoon go after her if she : healthful luxury. The arguments we have remained  away   much   longer;  aud    they { offered hefore, the safa method of usiug these
thoaght we were etill a model coaple. But, had they aeen me fittttng in my office, at night* over Alice's letters from abroad, they would have known what a galf had opened between us two. I read these letters over and over again, with achiog throbs going throagh and through my heart at every word. They were full of incident and interest, people called them beaatiful, who had zrpt eeen the mix¬ ture of womanly passion a)^; oh}ldlike,.p]sj[|^ fulness in her character that I had seen, and wbich I was to see no more.
At last she returned. I came home tired enongh, one eveuing, to find a letter lying on my table, informing me that she would cross to Dover on the morrow. I went down to Dover to meet ber. Onr estrangement had worn deep into my heart. She had lov^d me ouch; she sbould love me again I
X was worn haggard. I took a bath and made a careful toilet after my hurried journey.
articles, may he repeated: they shonld be taken hot, with or without cream or sogar, only- at meal-times, and never increasing them, iu frequency,^ quantity or strength.— By attention to tbese rales, they may bn taken daily for a lifetime, with daily advantage aud comfort. There are persons who are ren¬ dered uncomfortable in some way by the use ' of one or both of tbem; but no doubt this ' has been bronght abnat by tueir extrava¬ gant employment. Where they evidently disagree with a person, they shonld be dis¬ continued, at least for a time. Wbeu tea or coffee in moderate quantities cause any un¬ comfortable sensations, ii is proof of a disor¬ dered digestion ; and wbeu that is corrected, these beverages may be drank witb their old- time impunity.
Bat if coffee is good at all, it is best in all
ita purity—as pold is best without alloy—as
¦ honey is^best with all its aweetuess—as per-
Thub Object of Study.—Extract from an Essay entitled, "The proper spirU of the Student," in the Pennsylvania School Journal for July: ^
" You do not attend school for the purpose of learning everything, or mastering every science, or penetrating the mysteries ofall knowledge. The true object of stndy is men¬ tal discipline. God has given you minds, and you "come bere to learn Aow to use them.
The great differeace between educated men, and men who are not educated is not that tbe former are naturally more gifted, or have bfctter minds, but tbat tbey know better bow to use what they have,
Solomon says, "If tha fron he blunt and he do not whet tha edge, then must he put the more strength," This is the reason why an educated man can accomplish a given in- tellectaal taak, with half the exertion requisite for an uneducated man in the performance of the same task. The one is working with a sharpened axe, and the other with a dull one. It is aUd that the lamented Preaident Harrison bad been ao little accustomed to close mental toil, that when the routine of official duty, the preparation of important documents, and the intense mental applica¬ tion thns involved, were thrown upon him, he sank under the harden. A man accus¬ tomed to literary labor, can accomplish in one day tbat which another, unaccustomed to it, might not be able to accomplish in weeks. Do not be afraid of bard studies.— Your teachers give you hard problems in mathematics, long lists of dates iu history, and hard sentencps in Greek and Latin, not ao much for their own sake, as for the sake of disciplining the mind and strenghtening the memory.
Hard studies are a grindstone. A grind¬ stone is not beautiful. It would not make a good parlor ornament, but it is of vast impor¬ tance in sharpen! g and polishing axes. Every battle with a bard problem, every effort in commit to memory a diificalt task, sharpens the edge ofyour intellect, and makes tbe next task easier.
There is another use of study. It teach s yon how to concentrate your mind—^liow to be short, pointed, concise.
The> e are many worda wasted in thia world. There wonld not be so many books in the world if all authors were men of well disci¬ plined mind; at all events, wbat books there are wonld be shorter. We have a proverb, " Brevitv is the soul of wit." Tbe Arabp have a proverb of similar import:
" If Words are  ailver. •' Silence is gold."
OUR COMMON SCHOOLS.
Sketches from my Note-Book.—No. VII.
Aa X was taking my last look in the glass, the fumes are best beforo they havo lost their
hotel-waiter came toteU me they had arrived, strength.. AU know tbat the best method of
X followed him, more nervons thau I had making soup is to retain tbe essence of the
ever been   before   In   my   life.   Warrener meat, by boiling it in a closed  vessel.    And
grasped my hands as I opened the door, and itis certainly a phenomena of mind, that
Mra,   Warrener—bless   her  kind  heart!— this aelf-evideut principle in physics, a prin-
burat out crying. ^ oiple go generally known to peraons of even
"Oh, my dearFr nkl lamsoglad to see moderate iutelligence, should have bqjju loa^
yon.   And we have brought you your Alice aight of hy everybody, and  for a time aa
home, so well." long as since the introduction of coffee  as a
Next moment she euter'ed, a little King common beverage.   Every day in the last
Charles's spaniel   frisking aboot her  feet, j^^lf century in  miUions of families,  coffee
I had ber iu my arms at once, bnt it was uot until ahektaaed me that I knew how cold and pale she was.
" Alice, are you ill?" I aaked,¦holding her away from me, and looking into her face.
Her eyes met mine, but their old light waa ' quite gone.
" Not in  the leaat ill, Frank," she said, qnietly.   " But you mnst remember I have not seen you   for   nine   months   and you, startled me a little." \
My household fairy had fled, and I could ; only mourn that I should never look upon j her sweet young face again.   It waa another
has been prepared by boiling away its most volatile' qualltiea, the refuse only being drunk—lo say nothing of the useless waste. —HalVs Journal of Health.
Patkxt Medici.ves.—^The editor of tba "Let¬ ter Box" says: that within a year, he " has taken pains to count tbe different medicinal preparations offered for sale for the cure of hnman ailments, and that tbny number over FIFTEEN HDA'DRED; and that among all that are liquid, there ia not one which does not contain either opinm or alcobol "   Still, news-
.,.,._. ,. ,, papera, secular and religious advertise these
Alice, this.    I had slain my owu Alice,  and!    ...     . .. u      .-i       —    u   i.„
*u!.,       «ij      _•_ *   1 I Wlthont compunction, wheu they would  be
horrified to see in  their columns, even by
mistake, an  advertisement to   sell   " pure
nothing oould reanimate her.
I was like one in a dream all through the I day; and, wheu we came home, X could not: wake.    X bad made many changes   in the house, and all for her.   X took her through | the rooms on the day after our retnrn,   and I showed her the improvements.     She was j pleased with the fumiture; she admired the pictures and observatory; and seemed de¬ lighted with the little gem of a boudoir which I had pleased myself by designing ex¬ pressly for her.    She thanked me, too.   No longer ago than a  year, she would have danced through the rooms, uttering a thou¬ sand pretty little  exclamations of wonder and delight, and X ahould have been smoth-
She caressed me again, after a queer little t ered with kisses, and called a " dear old fashion ofher own, which always made me ¦ bear," or some such fit name at the end ; all smile, and which consisted of a aeries of kiaaes I of which would have been very ailly, but bestowed systematically on different parta of j also very delightful.
my face—four, X beUeve, being allotted to my I X think I bore it for-.,a month; bnt one forehead, two to eaoh oheek, two to the chin, morning, as X sat at my eoUtary breakfaat— four to my lips, and four to my eyea. She | for Alice took that meal in her room—the went through this ceremony with a pains-1 bitter sense of wrong and unhappiness and taking care, and theu looked me in the face. i desertion came over me so strongly that X
All her love and tenderness seemed to come np before me in that moment, and efface the past and its nnhappiness. I held herclosely to my heart, and her arms were around my neck.
WUl any one believe it? My wife had soaroely left me five moments before the fanoy oame to me that I had shown too plainly the power she bad over me. For months I had been schooling myself into coldness and in. differenoe, and at her very first warm hiss or snule X was completely rooted, ifihe had vexed, and thwarted, and aanoyed me mnoh daring those months: it would not do to pardon her so fnlly and entirely before abe had asked my forgiveness. I took a sudden resolution ; and, when she oame baok into the room, was buried in my papera once more. Poor child 1 She had had one half- hour's sunshine, at least.
" One moment," she said, taking the pen ont of my hand, and holding something up over my head, "X have a birthday gift for yon.   Do you want it ?"
" Xf you give it to me, certainly."
" Then ask me for Jt."
X.aaid nothing, bat took up my peu again. Her pooutenanoe fell a Uttle,
" Would yott like it ?" she said rimidly.
** There Faa a aaint in old times," X said, ' Vlistly, going on wi& my papers, " a naiae*
went up to her room.
" Are yoa busy ?" X asked, as she laid down her pen and looked aronnd.
" Not too busy to talk to you," ahe said.
" Alice, how long are we to Uve this life ?"
She changed color.
What life, Frank ?"
"The one we are living now. It is not the happy, loving Ufe we used to Uve. You are not mine aa entirely and lovinglyas you ouce were."
" I know it." And she sighed and looked drearily at me.
" Why cannot the old days.come back again. If I made s terrible mistake, oan you never forgive it ? I thoaght it was foolish for us to love eaoh other as we did—at leaat, to show it as we did^rhat I have found now, that love is earth's onlytrne wisdom,"
She smiled sadly.
" Give me baok that love, Alioe, which I wonld not have. Oh, give me back the lost sunahine."
X roae from my aeat aud atood beside her, but ahe drew baok and shook her head.
" Frank, don't aak me for that."
" X ahall know how to value it now, Alice."
I     " That may be; but I bave it not to give
I you, my poor Frank." *
¦    I clasped her to my heart   The paaaion in
th»theut might almoat have brought baok
liquors" by the glass or barrel. Perhaps con¬ science is quieted in this way: " Pure liquors are certainly misohevions ; but if they are rendered impure, by patting medicine into them, they may do some good." Bat yet these hair-splitting gentlenaen launch ont their severest anathemas against the " un¬ principled men who fabricate wines, and brandies, beers and other forms of alcohol." Kvery liquid patent medicine is notbing more or less than disguised alcohol or opium. Fanatical men exclude wine from the Com¬ munion Table; so tee total are they, that a drop is not admissible under any ordinary circumstances: and yet they advertise, and purchase, and swallow, and commend what is essentially alcohol—only it la callid medi¬ cine, somebody's "bitters" or "tonio." If alcohol is essentially pernicions—poisonous— aa ia claimed by Temperance men, it is not the leas so for being aimply disguised by some other name or ingredient. If we hope for victory, we muat be conaiatent; and it is naturally considered thatconsistenoy—^A firm adherence to solid principles—should com mence with the rsUgions press, and with the respectable secular newspapers, and let Ton¬ lca, Bitters, Renovators, Schnapps, Made Brandy, Beastly Beers, and Rot-Qut Whiskey be'oonsidered as in the aame category,—HalVs
Journal of Health.
 ^^. ^.
ClTEIOTrS BHTMES.
What in earth, eextou ?   A place to dig graven. What is earth, rich mau ?   A place to worl£ Hlaveti. Wbat Ifl earlh, graybeard T   A, place to grow old. What is earth, mlserT   A place to d)^ gold. What Ib earth, sohoolboy t   A place for my play. What ie earth, maiden ?    A place tu be gay. What is earth, eearaetreaa ?   A place where I weep. What IB «rth, ringgard ?   A good place to sleep What !¦ earth, soldier?   A place for a b«ttle. What is earth, herdHmaa ?   A place lo raiae cattle. What iB earth, vidow ?   A place of true uorruw. What is earth, tradesman?   I'll tell you to-morrow. Wbat is earth, blek man?   'Tia nothing to me. What la earth, sailor?   My home la tbe aea. Wbat Ib oartb, Btatesmaa?   A place to win fame. What la earth, author?   I'll write there my uame. What 18 earth, mouarob ?   For my realm 'tta given. What Is earth. christlanT   The gateway of heaven.
ATTESDA>'CE.
When wo visited a school we always noted down the number of pupils on the monthly roll, as well as the number present at the time. Oar object in doing thia was to obtain a reliable basis by which to judge of statiatics, prepared too ofteu with but Uttle care. In mauy cases teachers as well as secretaries of various Boards, believing that accuracy was not e:;sential in making out their monthly or yearly reports, would shirk the tedious pro¬ cess required, and make a generoua guess at the reault. Even now it requires great watch¬ fulness to prevent abuses of thii kind. The table below—although not containing a term columa nor an average column—is yet valu¬ able to me as a teat.
In a seriea of articles which appeared in the School Journal during the past winter, we think unintentional injustice was done to mauy counties, perhaps to all. In no respect, we conceive, has the County Superintendency done more to effect general improvement than iu the reform it has been laboring to secure in the collection of reliable statistics—the substitution of facts for mere estimates or surmises it is well known, seldom swells the aggregate results. The comparison of the earlier statistics—collected iu tbe first year of tbe Superintendency with the later, will, therefore, not alwaya lead to safe conclusions. Other causes also combine to render the sum total fluctuating from year to year. In this county emigration has beeu large for some time past. In 1S57 it is said SOO adults left for tbe West, carrying with tbem whole fami¬ lies of chil iren, and in some places more than oue half tbe pupils of a sub-district. A nr Ti¬ ber of scbools are now languishing from this cause. The nature of the winter also, whether cold or mild—whether frozen up or opeu, bas much to do with tbt* attendance of scholars. Doring last wiuter in some places the aver¬ age will exceed by a considerable number any of the previous terms—whilst in some farm¬ ing communities where money is considered the great end of life—the mild weather and early opening of spring—led to the withdraw¬ al of tbe "big boya" in order to secure as much field labor out of them as possible. We might enumerate many aimilar cauaes which promote or interfere with the attend¬ ance of pupils. It ia not alone to be ascribed to tbe fa tbfulness or neglect of the Superin. tendent. Beside, the value of a school o aystem is not measured by the number of its pupils only, or the width of its scope, and it is time we learu this.
ATTENDASCE.
tember, Ootober and November, aJfotog. a smaller number, aa a general rule, than those visited later. Some of the boroughs and a (ew of the lower districts seem to keep up their number, summer and winter. The dia* tricta were visited In the order in which they stand daring a period extending from the 12th of September, 1S57, to tfae middle of March. Safe Harbor waa left uutU April.— Later in the Spring there ia alao a faUing off in attendance. Taking theae things Into con¬ aideration yoa will be able justly to compare the above figurea. Perhaps I ought to say ill behalf of Earl, that I visited moat of her schoola dnring a fearful rain storm, which almost closed a number of the schools. The same is trne of Martio.
If we add to the above total the number enrolled at the twjmty schools of which I did not or coald not get notes; alao, the rolls of Lancagter city not included in the above, we ahall have 20,461 aa the number of enrolled papils st the time of visitation. By corres¬ ponding additions for the city—and nnnoted schools—we have 14,957 as the number In actual attendance when I was on duty. The term rolls will swell the number considerably above the monthly rolls : but we venture to predict that the average of the next yearly report will not differ greatly from the above total of pupils present.
Here to fore errors have been made in making ont tbe monthly statements by some of our teachers. After adding up the number of totals in the blank, they would divide ic by tbe number of scholars instead of by the nnmber of daya taught daring the month.— To illustrate what I mean—suppose the sum of the total column to be 600. If you divide tbis by the days taught in the month, say 20—yoa have aH average of 30. Bat if you divide by the number of pupils, say 40—you will only have 15 as yonr average. Daring the last year we think but few sach blunders have beeu committed.
We have also endeavored to aecure term rolls in all tbe schools—with what success we caunot tell. An effective remedy for all these irregularities would be the introdnction ofa good School Register into every bouse. The expense would le trifling and tbe benefita large. Wben will our Boards be bold enough and wise enough to do it.
It will be observed that during the least five months in a year, between five and six thousand childreu are daily absent from the School room. This is about one fonrth of tbe whole number enrolled. Tbe School author¬ ities are bound to furnish facilities for all— whether gresent or absent, and to pay for it. Hence by irregularity of attendance, yearly is lost to tbe county one-fourth of its school resources—or about $25,000, Beside this, which ia of small moment, irreparable injury is done to the pupils thus detaiaed.
Wheo will parents awake to the true inter¬ ests oftheir qhildreu 7 When will they learn that a mind weU cultivated and weUforuished is better than a legacy of manj thous nds of dollars? Wben will they appreciate as tbey onght the great privileges which the Common School System offera tbem at their very doors? When that day shall come, the difference between rolls and averages will ¦not swell as now into thousands. This does not seem to be the place to give reasons lo negligent parents why tbey should be more faithful—or to point out the special wronga done to their offspring by their criminal care¬ lessness. If it were, I have not now room even to name them, unless I should call them Legion.
Directora .are sometimes greatly perplexed by a want of co-operation on the part of the people. One Diatrict had 5 months school appointed bv the Board after great opposition. In the fall when tbe Schools opened—during the first month the people refused to send ; aomescbools not averaging more thau 4pupils. The infatuation of such a coarse is incompre- heoaible; but how ia it to be met iu order to aeouro progress ? The Board appealed to me for counsel. I advised a change in poUcy. To permit the old term of four mouths to stand, and devote their extra funds to tbe increase of salaries, to obtain competent Teachers, and then the school would attract the pupils iu due time.
But what hope is there of parents who will not send their childreu to school before Christmas—merely because tbey never have? Whoso only employment for months is to gather nuts and catch rabbits, and who are rearing up a generation to foUow them, that knows hut little more of the amenities of life than their fathers. How great is the work of the philanthropist and christian I How Uttle is accomplished by the means at work!— What cauae for despair and yet for actiou ! JNO. S. CRUMBAUGH, County Superintendent.
cation, correct and gentlemanly maunera, and an enlarged and Uberal mind."
What a mouument has WilUam Words¬ worth erected to tbe memory of his teacher, when, after visiting hia grave In Lancashire, he tbua Inaoribed hkn in hia last poem:	
" I turned anide To seek th« ground whero, 'mid a throng of gt»v«, Au honored teacher of my youth waa laid.
He loTed the Poeta, and.'lf now allTe, Wonld have loved me, sa one not deutitute Of promiae. Uor belying the kind'hops That he h»d formed, when I, at hit command, Began to «pia with toll my earliest Bonga."
But biography ia overflowing with these iustances. In prose aud ia v^rae, in the de Uberate record of a dutiful gratitude, in tbose published letters which often, better thau public achievements, permit an inlook npou the secret and private life of the writer, eve rywhere appears the aame unvaried testimo¬ ny.—North .American Review.
 4»W>-      ¦    ¦¦   —¦
DiSMissios OP PtJPiLS.—It is a mistaken notion that dismission from schoola, should follow dpon the heels of an ineffectual repri¬ mand for misconduct or insubordination.— The discipline of the school should be "firm, uniform   and   moderate."     When  the   in- flueuce and authority of the teacher are aet al defiance, and cannot bo maintained by other proper means, the rod shoald be ap¬ plied, not with passion and cruelty, but, when found to be necessary,, with judguient and effect.    And if thia proves  ineffectual, the very last rwori shoald  he au appeal to the Board of Directora, for tho expulsion of the pupil as " incorrigible."   This power ia vest¬ ed solely in the Board, hy the law, (pagea 14, 15, No. 31,) and the expulsion cannot extend beyond the current term, or school year.    It should not 1)0 resorted to except in extreme cases, and when the perversity of the pupil, and not the incompetency of tbe teachers, compels to thia line of policy.    Pupils should be retained in school, and held iu subjection to ita discipline whenever it is at all practi¬ cable, and not improridently turned out in disgrace, to become the victims of their owu nndiscipUued will and uDgoverned impulsea. Many a promising child has been ruined by being thus ruthlessly thrust out for insuf¬ ficient causes, wbo might, with proper mau- ^agement and competent government,  have become a bright scholar and nseful member of aociety.—Slale Superintendent inthe Penna. School Journal.
The Pupil not tmgrateful to his Teacher.
nifliaicTB.
Fnlton	
Little Britaia	
Oolerain.....	
6adHbury	
Bart	
Eden ,
Camargo	
Providence	
Drnmore	
Mariic ,
Leacock Upper	
Earl Eaat	
Earl	
EarlWeet	
¦Salldbnry	
Carnarvon	
Brecknock	
Adamatown	
Cocalico East	
Donegal East	
Couoy	
Donegal Weat	
EiizabetbtowB Borough..
Mount Joy Townahlp	
Bapbo	
Manhelm Borough	
Penn	
Warwick	
Clay	
Laucaster township	
Columbia'.	
MarletU	
Hempfield West	
Hempfield  Sa^t	
Pet^uea	
Ooneiitoga.	
Mftuor.,....':'.	
Mount Joy Borougb	
Manheim......	
1 Lltia .„	
I Elizabeth	
! Ephrata.	
; Lampeter West,	
I Strasbni^ Borongh......
: Strasburg towoBbip	
• Lampeter East	
I Leacock	
Washington Borough... •
Roll.
Aver¬ age.
360 342 S18 .112 236 134
45 SfiG 433 334 316 461 471 27(1 695 246 1S8
90 81& bli
ITS 116
6-16 401 696 631 2SS 517 1092 3« 679
40 22^ 50e 406 1S3 447 4S6 483 130 367
60
17.696
Pres- «ot
45 45 ' 43 35; 89
43; 39 30 37 31 27 45
5S' fi3;
48;
631 40.
62;
228 I6'6;
4:{S
32S' 46Si 299; 131 100
ai4|
3fi-!i 120 267 33S 2)2
25
Moist.—People hereabouts oan sympathize . p,^jj|
with the foUowinc from an Oregon letter: New Milltown
,,       , .    . •     *i      J       1.       S*f8 Harbor,..
'*It rains twenty-six hours m the day for I
seventeen montha in the year.   A shower ;      Total..... 	
commenced on the 3d day of last November,!     it is proper to atate that the roll as well as
and continued untU the 16th of Maroh, when   the number present in the different dlatricts ematics [at WiUiam and Mary College]
it set in for a long storm which is not ended   vary somewhat according to the time when man profound in most of the useful branches
yet." visited—those visited iu the months of Sep- of soienoe, vrith ahappy talent of communi-
The profession of teaching has sometimes been described as the merest machine-work, tending to keep the mind puerile,—aa a sta¬ tionary engine,—a constant exhauation of patience, strength aud devotiou, which no one can fully recompense, and whichthe benefac¬ tors never think of feeling grateful for. It ia said that the boy caunot look upon hia teacher but as his natural enemy, sometimes bronght to capitulation, sometimes at truce aud parley, stiil his foe; tbe relationa betweeu master aud scholar being such that there can be no friendship between them; aud, as the boy broadens iuto the man, all his memories of his master aching with the thrashings which he received at hia hands. A cloud of witnes¬ ses might he summoned to refute thia calum¬ ny. They would slart from the library shelves, where iu eloquent silence lie entomb¬ ed tbe lives of muu who by their own exer¬ tions, toiling late and long, have climbed to eminence, and speak and testify that they owed the first impulse in tbeir honorable ca¬ reer, the first stings of an ambition which bore them above reverses, and tanght them tbat the dnties of life are worth more tban life, to some casual hint, some whisper of praise, or kind flattery by a good schoolmas¬ ter of their youth wbo sowed in quick soil .that precious seed, wbich blossomed in their recollections even after their heads were white with life's autumn, and ripened a buu¬ dred fold. There is hardly a book of biogra¬ phy which does not contain some grateful recognition of the teacher. The teptimony ia as certain as it is unanimous.
We read bow Cicero, amidst the storm and stress of the Roman republic, stood up to twine the laurels of his eloqnence rouud the injured head of the poet Archias, his early master, stirring in the breast of the street rabble a momentary reverence for good letters and tbe fair humanities, whereof his aged teacher was his representative, and bearing ou tho swell and dash of his great rhetoric the name of that humble man, else long for gotten, down to our time, as drift and kelp are whirled along the tides of the ocean quite 29 i round the world. No one can read tbe biog- 2? i raphy of the American Cicero without admi-
29 j ring the letter, simple in language, but golden 3^ i with remembrance and affection, whicb, in
30 1 the last year of his Ufe, Daniel Webster 39 ' wrote to Master Tappan. Not long since, at ^^ the Academy in Exeter was gathered an aa- ^^ sembly of some of the moat honored statea- X4 men and scholara of this country aronnd their ^ venerable schoolmaster,—a veteran, *' wboae ^ spring of life waa apent,"—to declare from ss the very place be had taught them, and with ^ such feeling aa rarely finds expression, their ^^ precious obligations, and to embrace him S3 with a warmth of regard such aa half a cen- 3J   tury of crowded life had left all unchUled.
" It was my great and good fortnne," writea Thomas Jefferson, " and what probably fixed tbe destinies of my life, that Dr. WiUiam Small of Scotland was then Professor of Math-
Problems—Answers and Solutions-
PaoBLEH 16.—A man's desk was robbed 3 nights in succession; the first uight half the nnmber of dollara were taken aud a half a dollar more; the secoud, balf the remainder was taken and half a dollar more; the third, half of what was then left and half a dollar more was taken, when he had $50 left: how much had he at first ?
Problesi 17.—A. aells a qnantity of coru at $1 per buahel, and gains 20 per cent; very soou after he sold some of the same, to tht* amount of $37.50, and gaiued 50 percent.: how mauy bushels were there in the last parcel, aud at wbat rate did be sell it per bushel ?
SoLOTiox OP pROBLBst 12.—Wrt must first find the cost a lb., of cream tartar wheu ground. The prime cost, including griudiag. is 30^ cents per lb., batsince it loses ¦^'g or 10 per cent, in grinding, 30-} cents wilt be only ,»,- of the cost of a pound when ground, aud the whole coat witl be '^ of 30^=34^ centa. In the same way the cost of a pound of rice when ground, ia found to be 5fg ceuts.— I Then 34^—24=10^ centa, loss on lb., cream tartar, and 24—5/5= 18 jg Ciuts gain' on lb., rice, and by proportion, 18} 3cilOJic:: 12001b: 6jjl,632lba., the amount of rice required. Iu other words, we wiah to find a number wbich, when multiplied by 18 [ J wtU equal 1200x10^. The above solution is based upou the aup- / positiou that ^ cent per pound is to be paid ou the whole amonut of cream tartar aud rice sent to the mill.
Hopewell, Chester County.       .T. W. A.
We give the following " Solations " as they wero sent us, premising, that we are unable to discern in what the rationale consists .*
SoLUTio.v OP PJI0BLE3I 12.—If the ^' cents per lb. is to be paid before grinding: 051^^? lbs. of rice mnst be sent to the mill.
hEACOCK.
SoLOTio.s- ofPkohlem 13—This invoWea au affected quadratic equation, aud gives $50 for the price of the horse. LEACOCK.
JOB PBINTIKG OF ALL KINDS, g^omthe largeatPoBterto the smallest Card T\UNE AX THIS  OFFIOE,  in the
J_/ BEST STYLE, with great despatch, and at the lon-etit pricen.
CJ-HANDBILLS for the sale of Rkai. or PzRso.-iAi. PiiOFKRTT, printed on from OXE to THREE HOUKS NOTICE. _ looT Ll-ir-fiO
Turnpike Dividend.
TRE Presideut ami Managers of the LANCASTER, ELI2.\BETHT0\VN and  MIDDLE- TOWN TDKNPIKB COMPA.NY, hava declared  a divi¬ dend of $1.50 oa eaeh chare of BtJck, payahle on dn- m»iid.                                                    J, M. LONO. JQl7 7.3t-32 Treasurer.
Turnpike Dividend.
THE Directors of the Lancaster tiiiJ SufjquehHDua Turnpike Soad Company, have de¬ clared a dividtiud of Five Dollarit per uhara oa Ihu ptocK of Hald company, payable on demand, nt tho Farmer-'BaDk. jun63U-3t.3I 11. R. REEO, Treasurer.
Turnpike Dividend.
The   Presideut  and   Mauagers  of tiie 3IAN0R TURNCIKE ROAD COMl'ANY have de¬ clared a dirideud of/tco dolJartt por xharo for tha pa.*t six fflontbn—payabltt after Jnly lat. 15.13. ia30-:it-3l GKO. F. BKBNEMaN. Treasurer.
Aver-
Nine Teachers Wanted ri^O take cliiirgc of tlic Public Seiiooi.-*
Jl '*> Paradise Dislrjci, The Conaty So peris tendent n-ill bold an examination at the Blaclc Uoriie School Hoase. ou tho 20ih of JDLY, at 9 o'clock A it., wh«ra teacbem are rBspectfally Invited to be preseut. Term eight montha—liberal ¦ffage« wUl be givea. By Order of the Board. July 72-t-32 JOHN RANCE, President
Ten Teachers wanted.
TO TAICK CniAKGK ofthe PUBLIC SCHOOLS in Leacock Dlttrict The Couuty Su. perluteudAut will hold an examiDation at Intercoar«». on tbe 17th of Jnly uext, at » o'clock A. M. whero teachers are respectfully invited to he preaent. 'farm Eiitbt montha, to commence on the fi rot of September. iSalary $27 per mouth. Byorderof the Board. _junea0-3'l-31 MOSES EABY, ^crelary.
Sixteen Teachers "Wanted.
TO take charge of the Public Schuols of Salisbury towufh-D.   Au PKaminatlun by tbe County Superlntendeat ivill  Mice plxce at Ibe  While HorhO. in said townahlp, on   FRIDAY, JULY IC,  1S.1>*, at 9 o'clock A. M. juOB;JMt-.{l BY ORDE.t OF THK BOARD.
FOR RENT.
THE LAKGE THliEE STORY BRICK BUILDING, corner Ceutre Sfinare I autl South Qneen Street, known as tha Hubley Huaea.
Eoqulre at the olllca of the INLAND   INSURANCE AND DEPOSIT COMPANY'.      July 7-tf^l:!
Strasburg Bailroad Company.
THE Stockholders of the b*tr:i.sburg Railroad Company are requcatad to me*>t at tbe Dapot of tbe Compuny, lu tbe Borougb of ^trathurg, on SATDRDAY. thn ITtbof JULY. A. D 1858.at2o'clock P. M., for the pnrpo>e of taking Iuto cooaideratioa thw atfatraof the company.
BY ORDER OF THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS. IIexrt H. BHE.'t.'iEMAS, Secretary^ ^   July 7-21:«
BANK NOTICE.
TIIE under-signed citiitcns of Lancaster county, hereby give notice that they will apply at the Ddxt »<e>i.-don of tbe Legislalnre of Peunsylvauia, for the creation and charter of & Bauk or Corporate Body with Banking or DiaconntlDg privileges, with a capital of One Hnodred Thousand Dollara, and vlth privilege of IncreHHing to Two Hundred Thousand, to be styled tho Farmers Bank of Mount Joy. and located la the Borongh of Mount Joy, Lancaster cuanty. Pa., for Banking purpoKe.
ANDREW GERBER, iit. Joy Bor
JACOB NISSLEY, Mouut J.>y twit.
JOHN B. STEHMAN, "
BENJ   BKENEMAN.
JOHN M. HERSHEY,
JOHN 0. 'lOERNER.E. DoDPRal     '*
BEDBEN GERBER. W. Ilempfitfld    •*
J.'HOFFMAN HKESHEY, 31e. .'oy Bur.
JOHN SHIRK. "
SEH BRUBAKER.  Rapho twp.
ABRAHAM HEIlSflEY, Rapho twp.
JOHN ROHHEK. " "
ISAAC BKUBAKEK, nne 9 «'m-2il
SILVERWAEE.
TABLE,   Dessert, Tea, Mustard,  bait and Sugar  Spoons,   Knives,   Forfes,  Ladled, Thimblea, &c., al trays for sale at
H. L. & E. J. ZAHM'S
Corner North Queen St. and Centre Square.
SILVERWARE of auy deEcriptlon made to order at
short dotice.
g:3»01d silver taken in exchange for gooda.
July 7 tt'3i
WATCHES
AT GREATLY REDUCED PiaCErf for sale at H. L. k £. J. ZAHU'S
Corner North Queen Street aud Centra Bquaro. ta* Call and gel a TI^lEKh EPER. July 7 tf-K