Lancaster Examiner and Herald

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VOL XL.
LANCASTER, PA., WEDOTDAY, MARCH 14,1866.
NO. 17,
PutUsliea every 'WKDHEaDAY in the
EXAJrnraB SXTDXISO, Ho. * HorUx ftneen
Street, lanoaster, Pa.
TEBMS—82-00 A ITEAE HT ASTAXGE.
JXO. Jl. IfIESTA3fD, B. M. KLINE, J. I. HASTHA^.
Editors and Proprietors.
¦WASTED TIUE
Alono In tho dark aud silent niglit,
With tho heavy thought of a vanisliod year. VHien evil deeds come back to sight,
And good deeds rise with a welcome cheer; Alone with the spectres ol the past.
That come with the old year's dying chime. There glooms one shadow dark and v.ist.
The shadow of NVustca Time.
The chance of happiness east away.
The opportunities never sought, Tho good resolves that evcrj- day
Havo died In the Impotence ofthought; Tho slow ndvanceat the backward step
In the rugged path wc havo striven to climb! IIow they furrow Ihe brow and pale thelip,
"When we talk wilh "Wasted Time.
^Vhat arc we now ? what had wc been.
Had we hoarded time as the miser's gold. Striving our meed ofgood to win.
Through the suratncr's heat and tho winter's cold; Shrinking from nou^lit that tli' world could do;
Fearing nought but the touch of crime; Laboring, struggling, all seasons through.
And kimwlng no wasted Time.
"Who shall recall the vanished years;
Who .shall hold hack thlsobbliigtlde Tlmt leaves us remorse, and slmme, and teal s,
And washes aw.-iy all thiugs beside? Who shall KJve. us the strengtli e'en now, ,   To leave forever this holiday rhyme. To shake oll'this sloth from heart and brow,
And b.atllc with v.-ar-'tcd Time'?
The years that pa.ss come not again,
Tho things that die no life renew; But e'en from the rust ofhis cankering cliaiti
A golden truth is glimmering through; That to him who le:irns from errors past.
And turns away wiih strength sublime, .A.nd m.-tketh oach ye.ir outdo the hist.
There is no Wa.stod Time.
LITTL3'PEOPLE.
so.m;: ok the (Bw^utra ok jiistoby. ^Ici! of moilei'itti; liiglit h:iveonly one soliice under their disappointment. Althougli thej' uvo iiot run alter and ad¬ mired for tlieir great or small stature, they are Uke giante anil dwarfs in ihis, that two of thera sometimes make a moderate iiair. Add tho ninety-three inehes or so of Cluing Woo Omv the great, to the thii'ty-cightint-lics of Chang Mow tho small, and divide by two, and yougct two nieuof uiediuinstaturc;nnd 80 you do if you atlopt thesame plan with people of :iny ordinary and famil¬ iar stature.
Physiologists have diseussed tlie ques¬ tion whether there arc any causes in operation likely to produce a race of dwarfs, such as the pigmies believed in by the Grook.s, and sueh as those little people whom travelers once asserteil to be living in Aby.s.-;inia. Physiologists have arrived at a few general conelu- sions as to iiersons a little above or a little helow the middle hight, but thoy disbelievo.in nny race exceedingly tall or exceedingly short. AU tho examples well autheuticated are individual only. AVe find plentiful notices of jieople less than four feet high. Even at and below forty inches the Ust is formida¬ ble. Pabricius speaks of a dwarf forty inches high. Thomas Coates, who died about eighty years ago, was of this stature, John Coan, the Norfolk dwarf, was thirty-eight inches high. Ga.s- pard Boutin speaks of ono thirty-si.\ inches high; aud this was also the height of John Marshall, knowu as "Crutchy Jack," who died at Leeds about halfa century ago, aud who was the father of eight lino cliildren. Thero was a Uttle man exhibited in London in the timo of George the Fourth, whose thirty-six inches of height were clad in military attire, with top boots; " he strutted his tiny legs, and held his head aloft with not less importance than the jiroudest general officer could assume upon his promotion tothe rank of field marshal." Long before this there was exhibited, " opposite the Mows-gate at Cliaring- eross, a little black man, beingbut three feet high, aud tliirty-three years of age, straight and proportionate everyway, who is distinguished by the name of the Black Prince; andwith him his wife, the Uttle woman, not three feet high, and thirty years of age, straight and proportionate as any woman in the land, which is commonly etiUed tho Fairy Queen." - .
Below three feet  in height a dwaif likes to descend, if he can.   This makes liim moro famous.   Lydia Walpole, a dwarf at Bartholomew fair forty years ago, was  thirtj--five inches high.    A brushmaker of Edinburgh, so short as to be known as tho Town Steeple, mar¬ ried a girl wlio was a little shorter than himself; they averaged thirty-four inch¬ es each, nud were generally known as being  as  broad  as  they were long.— Eighty years ago there died Mrs. Kelly, known as the Irish Fairy;  she was thirtj'-four  inches  high, and died iu giving birth to a child.   But the best specimen of humanity of this altitude was, perhaps, Madame Teresa, known as the Corsicau Fairy, who was exhibit¬ ed in  Loudon some years bofore the Irish Fairy.   She was an elegant Uttle creature, pretty, womanly and yet fairy like.   Less thau a yard in' height, she was still a lady, if lior portraits arc to be t.'usted.  In the time of Sir Hans Sloane ,   there was exhibited, at tlie Mitre and Rummer at Cliaring-cro.ss, "a, little wild man, aged tweuty-.seven, and  thirty- four inches liigh."   And " at a coft'ee- house in Charlng-cross, (a famous place for  exhibitions was  Chating-cross in those days,) " a little man, fifty years old, two feet nine inches high, and the father  of eight  children;   when  he sleeps he puts his head between his feet, to rest on by "n-ay of a pillow, aud his great toes ill oach ear, whieh posture he shows to the general satisfiiction of all the spectators."  The Liege peoiile boast of an old woin-an, who died abouta cen¬ tury ago, at the ago of a hundred, and with Lhe altitude of thirty-two inches. Mary Jane, of the s.iine height, died at Wem, in Shropshire, uincty years ago; but the poor thing was deformed and lame.   Au advcrtisomcnt of the time of William and Mary tells of a German woman,   "at   tho  brandy-shop,  over against the Eagle and Child, in Stocks' Market"  (-where   the   Mansion-house now stands) "the dwarf of the -world, being but two feet seven iu height, and the motherof two ehildren."   This was also the height of " a man of the least stature that has been seen In the mem¬ ory of man," sit tho Plume of Feathers, in the same locality.    One exhibition was of " a little Scotchman, hut two feet and six inches liigh, near upon sixty years old ; he sings and dances with his son; he forinerly kept a writing school, and discourses of the Scrijitures aud of many eminent histories veiy -n-isely"— apeilagogee in a nut^shell.   The Jour¬ nal de iledecinc notices a man twenty- eight inches high.   Mr. Simon Paap, a Dutch dwarf, who attracted a good deal of attention in London fifty years ago, was about as many inches in height as he was pounds in weight and years in age—twenty-eight.   In Queen Anne's time there was "a little fairy woman come from Italy, being but two feettwd inches high."   Thero is a record of one Hannah Bounce, who, although only twenty-five inehes high, gave birth to a child.
Of course, if the attraction of a dwarf varies inversely as his length, hs wiU
try to be leas than two feet long, If he oan; and, equaUy of course, the narra¬ tives to that effect are aU the more open to saspieion. DemaUlet, the French consul at Cairo, says ho saw a dwarf only eighteon inohes high. Birch, in his CoUectlons, speaks of one only six¬ teen Inches high,, and thirty-seven years old. M. Vlery, in the Dlctloh- naire des Sciences, notices a German dwarf girl eighteen inehes high, but then she was only nine years old. A girl was exhibited at Bartholomew Fair " not mueh above eighteen inches long, having never a perfect bone in any part of her, only the head; yet she hath all her senses to admiration, and discourses, reads well, sings, whistles, and all very pleasant to hear." At the Charing-cross Coffee-house, corner of Spring gardens, early in the last cen¬ tury, was to be seen " a man, six-and- forty years old, one foot nine inches high, yet fathoms six foot flvo inches with his arms." He must have been an oddity, seeing that " he walks natural¬ ly upon his hands, raising hia body one toot four inehes off tho ground; jumps ujion a table near three foot high with one hand."
Many dwarfs have had some degree of historic celebrity attached to their names, owing to the circumstances of their career. ;! Jefferj' Hudson, a Rutland man, was one of this small band of Uttle people, who have gained namo and fame. At eight years old he was only eighteen inches high, and was taken into the suite of the Duko of Buckingham.— Wlien Charles the First and Queen Henrietta Maria were, on one occasion (which has become tiresome from boing perpetually cited,) entertained by the Duke, Jeffery Hudson was served up in a cold pie, fully armed and accoutred. The Queen ivas so delighted with the tiny creature that she begged him ofthe duke, and Jeftery forthwitli entered the royal suite. As he jgrew up he display¬ ed much tact, and ivas employed in m.iny delicato missions abroad and at home. During a masq^ue at court the palace porter, a gigantic fellow, took Jeffery out ofhis pooket. He could bear jokes of this kind prepared for set occa¬ sions, but he was much irritated by the mocking raillery ofthe courtiers. While on a foreign mission, Hudson was so maddened by an insult of this kind that he.challenged the offender; the courtier appeared armed with a squirt; Hudson insisted that tho affair shouhl not end with this additional insult, they met with pistols, and Hudson shothim dead on the spot. Tho little man (who was eighteen inches high at thirty years old, and then grew till he was forty- five,) lived to be involved in suspicion concerning a popish plot, and died in lirison iv little while before the death of Charles the Second. Some years ago his slashed and bedizened satin doublet and hose were in the Ashmolean museum at O.xford. Aro they there StiU-'
Another political dwarf, if we may so designate him, died only a few years ago. Galignaui noticed the event in 1858. Tho dwarf's ntime was Eiche- bourg. He was only twenty-four inches high. When young he was in the ser¬ vice of the Duchess of Orleans, ivife of the Duke in the days of the French Revolution, 'find mother of tho Duke who was afterward King Louis Phil- lilipe. In thedesperafe troubles of those days Eichebourg was, on one occasion, dressed up as a baby, aud carried iu a nurse's arms, with important dispatches concealed in his baby cap. Ono would like to know more of this little fellow. That the Orleans family pensioned him off with SOOU francs per annum, and that he died inthoEuedu Four Bt. Germain at the venerable age of ninety, are the onlj' additional facts mentioned; but it would be pleasant to know how the manouvro succeeded, and whether the tiny diplomatist poked his smallperson into any other of the momentous events of those times.
Thore was a little couple in the time of Charlesthe Second, who compensat¬ ed for shortness of stature by length of days, 'they -svere Richard and Anne Gibson. Richard had been miniature painter to Charles the First, and -svas also installed into the office and digni¬ ty of court dwarf. Anne was, at the same time, court dwarf to Queen Hen¬ rietta Maria. The King determined that the Uttle people should be man and wife. It was done, and he gave away the bride. Waller, the court poet, cele¬ brated the nuptials in the following lines:
Design or chance make others wive,
But nature did this match contrive;
Eve might as w-ell have Adam fled,
As .she denied her little btd
To hill for whom Heaven seemed to frame
And measure out this little dame I
To him the fairest nymphs do show, Ijikeraoving mountains toppediv-ith snow; And every man a Polyplieme Does to h Is Galatea seem I
The little people had a remarkably happj- life of it—if not absolutely " healthy, wealthy and wise," at least somethihg like it. They had nine chil¬ dren, five of whom lived to be men and women of the ordinarj' hight. Richard, born during the reign of James the First, saw the glories and the troubles of Charles the First, Cromwell, Charles the Second and James the Seoond, and died early in the reign of William and Marj-. Rather late in life he became drawing master to the Princesses Mary and Anne, afterward Queens. He died at the age of seventj'-five, while his pocket edition of a wife survived to eightj'-nine. They wero each under four feet in hight; it is even said that thej' could only muster sevon feet of stature between them.
Peter the Great, who had something of the Russian bear in his disposition, on one occasion made merry with all the dwarfs living within a certain range of his capital. He collected seventj- of them, and caused one hoi le to draw a dozen of them at a time in carriage, to raise a laugh at their smallness. He ordered a marriage between two of the number. All the guests -were served with small articles of food, small tables, small knives and spoons. The bride¬ groom, thirty-eight inches high, d.anced a minuet, and the Czar was deUghted. It is related that, when the guests were about to take their seats at the banquet, they quarreled for precedence, and maintained their individual dignity as warmly as people of larger growth.
Poland and Russia have been rather celebrated for dwarfs. Porter noticed the faot in the last century. In his Travels in Russia and Sweden, he said: " Dwarfs are here the pages and play¬ things of the great, and, at almost aU entertainments, stand forhoure by their master's chair, holding his snuff-box or waiting his commands. There is scarcely a nobleman in this country who is not possessed of one or more of these freaks of nature. These little beings are generaUy the gayest dressed persons in the service of their lord, and are attired in a uniform or livery of very costly materials. In the presence of their owner their usual stationisat hiselbow, in the character of a page; and, during hia absence, they are responBible for the cleanUnesa and combed locks of their companions of the canine species. . . They are generaUy well shaped, and
their hands and feet particularly grace¬ ful. Indeed, in the proportion of their figures, we should never discover them to be flaws in the economy of nature? were it, not for a certain peculiarity of features,and the size ofthe head, which is commonly exceedingly large. Take them in the whole, they are sueh com¬ pact, and'even pretly, little beings, that uo idea of them can be formed from the clumsy, deformed dwarfs which are exhibited at our fairs in England. It is very curious to observe how nearlj' they resembleeach other; theirfeatures are all so aliko that you might easily imagine that one piur had spread their progeny over the whole country."
One of tho most notable of those Pol¬ ish dwarfs, in the iast centurj', was Jo¬ seph Bomlawski. He was born in 1799. He was one of six brothers aud sisters. Threeof the brothers were alltJjout the middle high. The eldest, born eleven years before Joseph, was a strong and vigorous little fellow, only forty-two inches in hight; he became p.ige and then confidential steward to Countess Inalawski. The sister was a much smaller specimen of humanity; perhap the smallest woman who over fell iu love—for she did love, and secretly be¬ friended the young officer to whom she never told her love, lest he should ridi¬ cule her. Amiable and iiretty, tho tiny creature, who is credited with only twentj'-six inches of stature, diedinher twenty-second year. As to Joseph, he became an European celebrity. He was on'j' eight inches long, -when horn'; and so (letermined did nature seem to keop him small, that she only allowed him fourteen inches at one j'ear old, and seventeen inches at six years. Hav¬ ing been neglected by his parents, the CountessdeTarnoweducatcdhim. An¬ other Polish ladj', the Countess Hum- ieski, begged him of her, and he becanip quite a pet. He went to Podolia, and lived in a castle, where he attained a stature of twentyone inches at ten years old, and twentj'-flve inehes at fifteen.— protectress took him for a tour to the European courts. They went to Vienna where tho Empress Maria Theresa wished to present him with a diamond ring from her finger; but this being far too large, she gave him a ring from the finger of Marie Antoinette, afterwards the unfortunate Queen of France, then about six years old. Thelittle man was by that time twenty-eight inches in his stockings. Count K.iunitz, the minis¬ ter, very much jietted him; but there was a feeling growing'up iu the mind of Borulawski that, tifter all, ho was only treated .is a toy, an amusing curi¬ ositj', and he had his moments of mor¬ tification. Then they went to JIunich, and then to Paris, whero the court chroniclers told of his sj'mmetrical proportions, his fine eyes, his lively as¬ pect, his healthy constitution, his tern- per.ite habits (rather a novoltj' in those daj's), his sound sleep, his graceful dancing, his polished manners, his smart repartees, his intelligent conver¬ sation, his good memory, his soundj udg¬ ment, his susceptible feelings, his self- respect, his kindlj' disposition. One evening Count Oginski served up Bor¬ ulawski in a tureen at a banquet, much to the surprise ar.d amusement of the guests. At the age of twentj'-five, Bor¬ ulawski, then thirtj'-five inches high, settled at Warsaw with his patroness.— He fell in love with a French actress; she pretended to favor his suit but made merry at his expense behind his back; this was deeply wounding to the Uttle man. At thirty j'ears oldho wasthirtj'- nine inches higb, and theu he stopped growing.
At the ago of forty ho agaiu fell into the toils of love—this time with an .imi- able and beautiful womau, who, after some hesitation, married him. Tliis proceeding so offended the Countess Humieski that she dismissed him from her suite. He had to begin the world again, with his wife aud a baby; and hard work he found it, for the great (as thej' are ealled) did not look so smiling¬ ly upon him as before. He traveled about Europe, first as a concert-giver, then as a superior kind of showman, exhibiting himself for money. It was a sore wound to his feelings, but there was no help forit. He fought ou brave¬ ly and honorablj'. He was introduced to the EngUsh royal family at about tho time when the elder sons of Georgo the Third wore growing up to manhood.
Borulawski was contemporary with another Polish dwarf, far inferior to him in all bodily and mental charac¬ teristics. This was Nicholas Feny, who assumed the name of Bebe. When born he was onlj' eight inches long, and weighed t-welve ounces; ho was carried on a plato to cliurch to be christened, and his first cradle was his father's wooden shoe. At eighteen months he was ablo to walk, and at two j'ears old he had a p.iir of shoos made for him, an inch and a half long. At six years old, when fifteen inches high, he was intro¬ duced to Stanislaus, king of Poland, who gave him the name of Bebe. Theiirin- cess of Talmond was appointed to teach him; but he was as small iu intellect as in stature, and could learn very little. Moreover, ho was passionate. When Borulawski went to visit the king, the two dwarfs gazed at each other, and the King mado a remark as to the mental auperiority of Borul.awski; this put Bebe into such a passion that he tried to push the other into the fire—a pro¬ ceeding that brouglit a flogging upon Bebe. He became prematurely old and withered, and died at the age of twen¬ ty-three; all accounts giving him a hight of thirtj'-three inches at the time of his deal h. The King planned a mar¬ riage betv.een Bebe and Aune Thcrese Souvray, a native of the Vosges; but Bebe died before the union was effected. There wero two sisters, Anue and Tho- rese Barbe, one thirtj'-threeinchea high, and the other forty-one; they lived to be old women, and danced and sangna- ional songs in public.
Wybrand Lolkes, tho Dutch dwarf, acquired in his day some renown. He •was one ot eight children of a poor fish¬ erman. He learned watch-making at Amsterdam, and then carried on the trade .it Rotterdam. FaiUng in busi¬ ness, he resolved to get a Uving out of his smallness. He came to London in the time of old Astley, and was engag¬ ed at the ampitheatre. His wife (for he had a wife and three children) used to lead him on the stago, and had to stoop that her hand might touch his. He was clumsy and awkward, but agile and strong. When sixty j'ears of age, he was only twenty-seven inches high. There is a portrait extant of him, with his well-looking, good-sized wife beside him.—From, all the Year Eound.
A G ENTLE Hint.—At a concert which took place lately, a gentleman in tho audience rose up just as the third pieee in the programme had been performed, and aaid: "Mr. Conductor, will you obUgeme, air, by requesting your vocal¬ ists either to sing louder, or to sing in whispers, as there is a conversation going on close by where I sit, that is conducted in such a loud tone aa to hin¬ der my enjoyment of the music. I prefer certaiinly to hear the concert; but if I cannot be ao privUeged, I deaire to hear the conversation." There was an extremely quiet and attentive audience in the hall during the rest ofthe evening.
TO THE EVEHINQ WlHJ).
Oh, sad and sighlni; wind,
With splrlfc-hauntlng tone, I listen fora loving name,
A dame for me alone.
Did no lip speak that name? Did ho heart tell It thee?
Or hast thou lost It In the gulf Whtoh lies'tween him and me ?
Oh, sad and sobbing wind, I ery oat with the pain
Of loving, longing for the voico Which ought to speak that namo.
Tho songful brook reflects
The whito stars burniug high; But o the space which lies between
The streafnlct and th.e sky!
1 pine to hear that tone
Upon the south wind'sbrcath, Thougli far aw-ay as star and stream, And wide as life and death. Ono name of Love to mo his lip hasgiven, And by that name shall I be knownln heaven.
CAPTAIU DICK'S IADY IOVE.
I confess that I am of a jealous dispo¬ sition. Richard knew that perfectly well when I married him. I myself am a plain little ivotnan, as far as face goes, -with verj' little that I can think of to recommend me; and Dick, oh, ho is such a handsome fellow, and liad al- waj's the reputation of being such a big flirt before he became actiuainted with me. Whatever he could see about me to prove so attractive—he who had been a "lion among ladies," who shone in societj'—I could not quite understand; so when he offered mo his hand in mar¬ riage, I thought it onlj' prudence to .speak a sober word to him—and I as¬ sure you I took great credit to mj'self for it at the time, when I wanted noth¬ ing but to throw mj'self into ills arms and rest against his broad breast in per¬ fect iieace, without a question. But aunt Julia (who has had experience, and whose heart; is so largo and warm,) warned me once so oarnestlj', against the risk I might run, ivith my impul¬ sive disposition, that I—in short,I said this to,Dick:
"You know that I love, oh, I love J'OU—with all my heart. There is no one in this world for me, save; j'^u, and never will be. But, darling, don't think mc foolish, wiU J'OU'? I am so plain, and I have no aceomplishraents what¬ ever ; I neitlier plaj- the piano, nor sing, nor dance, nor any of lliose things; and X don't know what should make j'oii love me at all; and I am half afraid J'OU will tire of me sometimes—men do such things, Dick—and tlicu I should get fearfully jealous of j'ou, and make J'OU miserable and boraiscrable myself."
Dick laughed the heartiest, best na¬ tured laugh , at this long siieoch, and drew me to his heart, and pressed his lips to mine with ono of his own fond kisses, that made me shut my eyes.
" If J'OU had owned ono of those pret¬ ty faces that catch the -world's oj'c, and fasten it, Josie," he said, " I should not have chosen j'ou for mine. Such faces WiU do to flirt with "
". But not when j'ou're married, Ricli- ai'()," I put in, timidly.
"Uo, certainly not," said he: " I've done enough of that sort of fhing to last mo, 1 think, forthe rest of my natural life. Jfow I want a wifa, (oh, what meaning he iiut into that word,) to nes¬ tle in mj' heart, and make, me happj'. I don't want to marry a pieture.lfor ray friends to admire; I want a comfortable Uttle woman, with a warm, true heart, and a pair of brown ej'es iuto whicli I ean look and see moro beaufcj' a thou¬ sandfold than ever ball-room belle wore ou a finely moulded fiice. I shall bo very happy, Josie, -with tliat plain little face of yours, that is tho sweetest face on the round globe to mo."
" But if you—if I—that is, if any one should make that ugly jealousy got into nij' heart, Diek,—what then'?"
" Then," said Richard, soberlj-, " j'ou have only this to ilo: open j'our heart before me with perfect frankness; it maj' be an eflbrt to do so under somo circumstances; but, Josie, you must do it, ifyou would avoid the evil j'OU foar.
I know your pronencss to jealousy, but if I givo you no reason to be jealous of mc, it is plain th.it j'ou never ean be jealous after an exjilanation."
Tliat is the conversation we had as nearly as I can recollect it; aud I will Siij' for Eieh.ird, that up to—but no mat- tcr—I mean to mako a clean breast ofit as a warning to everybodj'. Women arc so easilj' cheated.  ,
If Dick had insisted upon it that I was prettj', I never should havo had a moment's confidence in him. IraSceley did that when he was "ptiyiug atten¬ tion" to me; and when I knew that he told a falsehood, could I ever believe him again"?
"Mj'doar Miss Jo.sie," Ira Seelcy said, "how can you do yourself such injustice'? Plain! It is preposterous! You are the most beautiful woman in Rqsslyn, let others saj' what they will.'
3Ir. Sccley," said I, "after this con- versation'it is impossiblo that our pres¬ ent relations should exist longer. I mean no offence. I onlj'.wish to be frank with you; I .im your friend and well-wisher, but your visits to ine must cease after tb-daj'.!' '
That was before I knew Richard Herkness at all. j'OU understand.
Richard's company was aU raised, aud tho regiment was about to go into camp, at the tinie of our marriage. Wo had spent oue blissful week together, when they nnvrched awaj'. He was Captain of Company D, you know, and he said D stood for Deathless, Devotion, and, more than that, it stood for Diek.
"But it .stands for Danger, too," said silly Uttle I.
"Yes," said he, " for Danger Disarm¬ ed, and Duty Done, and Don't be Down Hearted Darling."
I was proud of him, I assure j-ou, when I saw him at the head ofhis com¬ pany, and though thero were many noblo-Iooking fellows under him, there was not one th.it could compare with my husband, with his tall, shapely fig¬ ure, his broad shoulders, his curly, brown hair and splendid beard, and his honest blue ej'cs. Could such trne blue eyes as those deceive me? I would nover believe it.
Eichard was never muoh of a letter writer. He w.is an excellent business manager, and a successful one, too— which does not always follow you know. And every body knows—at least every¬ body in Eosslyn does—that he made a brave and faithful officer; but he never had any remarkable facility iu express¬ ing himself on paper. Ira Seeley, who hasn't h.ilf the brain, can write much better letters tlian Dick. But as for me, I was alw.ij-s fond of penning my thoughts and experiences. So I wrote long and frequent letters to Dick in the armj', and he wrote me the shortest lit¬ tle answers with nothing in them, but to me they were everything. It was provoking, too, sometimes, to see how he neglected to say anything about him¬ self, his doings, his adventures, &c. He never told me about the bullet he h.id got in his side, and I knew nothing about it till some time after he -was quite well again. And thia peculiarity in him may be taken to account for his not mentioning his Southern "lady love" to mo.
Ira Seeley had just been made an M. D. a few montha before Dick's regiment left Rosslyu, aud he succeeded in get-
ing appointed as8i8tBW?,snj'geon in-the regiment. But aftetlfli'id been absent a year, Dr. Ira Seeley^Was sent home in disgrace, for I'uever Inquired what spe¬ cial reason; and he reinmed the prac¬ tice of his profession li^Eosslyn.
Now it happened oirt day before the regiment went awayithataunt JuUa experienced oneofherftsrful neuralgic attacka, and Dr. Church, our old phy¬ sician, being out of town, Tra Seeley was ealled In. Auntie was in excrucia¬ ting pain, and whether it was due to his akiU or to the course of nature, I know not, but on that occasion his visit and prescription were followed by aun- tics's e.xperiencing immediate relief. It was but natural, after that, that she should have great faith in Dr. Seeley.
"I don't liko the man, Josie," she said lo me one day ; "biit you can't al- waj's sit in judgment on the personal character of the man who cures your ills."
Auntio had just such another attack soon after Dr. Seeley's return from the army and of course she sent for him at once. Somehow, though, ho had not his former success on the present occa¬ sion, andauntielingered.ilong for weeka under his care. Of course ho came in frequent contact with me undor theae circumstances. He improved his op¬ portunities in talking ahout Richard. Well, I was always ready to hear about Richard, of course, and henco we had frequent chats together. One day he remarked in the course of our conversa¬ tion.
"Yes, Captain Dick is very popular with the boj's; but not so popular as he is with the girls, of course. Dick was alwaj's a great favorite with the ladies."
"But there are no ladies to trouble iiim where he is now," I said, with sat¬ isfaction ill my tone, but he observed at once and undorstood.
" That's a common mistake with the wives nt home," he said, quiokly; " there's plenty of pretty girls at overy village in the South, I can tell you— Dick knows it well enough."
"Do you mean to tell me. Dr. Seeley" —I spoko up pretty sharplj', for me; and then I could almost have bitten mj' tongue off with vexation. I said no more, but left the question incomplete, and left the room, with a cool bow to him.
He went away then. But day after day he contiuued to touch on the sore spot that he had imagined he had dis¬ covered in me. I can't tell how he gradually worked me into the fever of jealousj' that he did. I should have avoided tho evil, perhaps, if I liad writ¬ ten to Richard plainly in the flrst place. But the whole matter seemed to me so contemptible that I seomed to write to him about it. And yet—I think some writer once called woman a puzzle, did he uot? At least, I know a woman that puzzles mc a good dc.il at times, and her name is Josie Herkness, not Howard.
"My dear Mrs. Herkness, I regret that I should ever have touched upou this painful subject. Believe me I lit¬ tle thought an idle word would have beon so productive of—of fooling, I perceive I rest under your displeasure, as it were; and in these circumstances it becomes my duty to exhibit some proof of the truth of what I havo per¬ mitted mj'Sclf to saj', most reluctantl.y, concerning j'our husband."
"Proof?''
" Yes, ma'am. I think I can produce convincing proof. To-morrow I will erideayor to lay it before you."
The hateful old wretch I Why should ho torture me in this way from day to daj'? >Vhat did I care for hia odious proof? I could think of nothing else •ill day long. At night I dreamed—oh, such a terrible dream—I shudder aa I remember It!
He came with his hateful proof. It was in the shape of a letter—which I read with bated breath.   It said:
Deab Captain Dick—When I saw you last I little thought it would be my fate to know of your departure from our town, without being ahle to eee you again. This smoking-cap, which I have made for j-ou with my own hands, I in¬ tended to have given you in person, but I have not been so well as usual for a few daj'S, aud fatlier will not permit me to go and see you. Brother George will give it to you with my love. He will tell J'OU how much I have t.ilkod about you "since I have been sick. I hope your wound will be well enough, so that you can come and see Lillie once more be¬ fore J'OU go away. I thank you so much for j'our portrait, and I have it on my pillow. I am proud of it. You have just such curly hair as my brother Ben iiad, who died twelvo years ago, when I was only eiglit j'ears old. I aend j'Ou my portrait in return. I think the smoking cap will fit. It is according to the measuro I took of your head tliat daj- when you held me on j'Our lap.— Y'ou did not know what that bit of red tape me.int then, did you. Captain Dick ? Wear it •when j'ou smoke and dream, and think sometimes of tlie giver. Your little friend,
LiLLiB Cass.
"Dr. Seeley," was the first question I asked after readlngit through, "how do you happen to have this letter in your possession, if it was written to my hus¬ band'?"
" The simplest expl.inatiou, mj' dear Mrs. Herkness. When Captain Dick got that ball in his sido, j'ou know, he l.iy under my care for over a week, and one day as I was doing up .some pack¬ ages of mediciue, I was short of paper, aud asked him if he had anj- old letters or anything that I could uso. Ho re¬ plied that thero were some letters of no use to him now, in the pocket of his coat, that hung near bj'. I took them and used them. It so happened that those packages I brought home with mo, and I recentlj- overhauled them. I found that this was around one ot them; another was oue of your own letters to him; and still another waa an answer which ho had-written to this Miss Cass, but did not send, because, as I learned, he went in person to return her his thanks. That answer, I have the mel¬ ancholy pleasure of presenting to j'OU."
I took it and read it. It was Dick's, well-known hand-writing:
Dear Lillie—Greatly obliged for your kind favor, which I shall long preserve for the giver's sake. Accept my warmest thanks, and assurances that I shall uever forget your dear little face as long as I live. Hope some time to see you onee more.
Yours truly, Richard Herkness.
Was ever woman more fully author¬ ized in entertaining jealousy thau was I, after reading these affectionate mis¬ sives? Is it strange that there came into my ej'cs that light which I do be¬ lieve is the ugliest light in the world— which provokes to murder, to every wrong, to all possible cruelties!
I felt the blood recede from my face as I read, and I dropped luy hand upon mj' lap, clenching that hateful paper in my darling Dick's own writing, and bowed my head and closed my eyes while my lip quivered uncontrollably. At thesame time I hated myself for the imp that had got into my heart; and I hated Ira Seeley worse than I did my¬ self a great deal.
"My dear Mrs. Herkness," I heard him commence in his whining tone, "don't aUow yourself to give way to your feelinga. You have a friend here —a true friend, whose pride it will ever be to serve you."
He leaned over and took my hand. I    I thinlc 18nat<!hed It from his clam-
mj' touch about as quiQk as I ever did in my life.
"Dr. Seeley," I said, "my liusband's enemy cannot be my friend. It doea not matter who this woman is, nor what Dick has done. He is'nyr husband, I shall send these letters to him, and have his explanation."
It was now his tnrn to pale. But I spent no time in obaerving hia sensa- tiona. I retired to my chamber, and— well I may as well confess that the first thing I did was to wash the hand .he had touched.
And then I sat down to consider the case ofthis Mr. Richard Herkness, who was spending his precious time in flirt¬ ing with black-eyed Southern maidens, forgetting—and then I began to cry.
That passed over, after a little, and I again returned to the solemn duty on hand.
"Oh, Uttle Cass," I cried, "whoever you are, you little kuow what pain you have made for one poor heart For I give J'OU the credit of believing that you are ignorant that this handsome captain has a wifo who worships him."
The more I read the letter the better I was satisfied she was a pure-hearted girl—there was such a savor ot inno¬ cence about it—it was so sweet and childlike. Why, perhaps it is only somo little girl, after all." The blood rushed to my faoe in a glad current at this thought. This would account for her sitting on his lap, putting her Uttle hands about his dear curly head to measure it, making him a smoking cap, sending her portrait to him and receiv¬ ing his in return, begging him to come and see her once more. Why, tlien, if it is a little girl—but oh, dear, oh, dear, just look at this: " Brother Ben, who died twelve j'ears ago, when I was only eight years old." Then she is twenty now, just exactly my own age. Ah, me! As for the genuineuess of the letters, there was not a loophole for a ray of hope in that diregtion. Their genuine¬ ness was unquestionable. The lady's letter -was stamped aud post-marked iu the most crushingly, practical manner. Besides, Dick had an old habit of taking letters from his pocket when he was sit¬ ting smoking his cigar after dinner, and idly pricking the paper full of pin-holes; and this letter had been through that original prooess. His own Uttle note, too, was written on the same kind of paper that he used in ivriting to me, with his monogram stamped on it—R.H., inter¬ woven in the most graceful mauner —the prettiest monogram I ever saw. And if any eould be deceived in Rich¬ ard's handwriting, it -was not I—nti, no —the deftest forger that ever existed could not imitate the writing of that man, to deceive my sight, for I read his words alwaj's with mj' heart as well as with mj' ej'ea.
I wrote and toro up a dozen letters that day. I, who pride myself on mj' deftness with the pen, was completely nonplussed now. And as f am confess¬ ing my sins freely, Ishall confess, also, that one of the letters I wrote was to Miss Lillie Cass herself. But I blushed deep for shame after I had written it; so gross a piece of ill-breeding as related to her—so disgraceful, too, to Richard and my trust in him. Nothing but tills jealous imi> that ruled me could have given birth to such an act. I tore that letter in very small pieces, indeed.
And at last mj' letter to Dick was written aud despatched. It enclosed these two letters, stated how I got them, and only added: " Oh, Dick, doar Dick, what does it mean ?"
As soon as tho letter had goue, I felt a remarkable degree of satisfaction and relief. I had done my duty. I hnd done the thing Dick told mo to do, if ever such a case arose; and having doiie this, I felt that there was nothing else iu the world for me to do. I had now only to wait, come joy or pain.
In due time I got my husband's reply. It enclosed a'portrait of Lillie Cass, and if ever I kissed the senseless face of a photograph with all my heart and soul, it was the face of that same poor inva¬ lid boj- that looked out at me with sin¬ less ej'es, till tears of mingled shame and gladness filled mj' own.
And thia was Lillie Cass! A poor Ut¬ tle fellow leaning wearily upon a cane and ,1 crutch—a man in j'ears, but a ohild in stature, and in hetirt. 'The son of a wealthj' planter. Dick wrote, he had been reared as the household pet, and shielded carefully from rude con¬ tact with the world. His mother had sought to amuse him bj' teaching him needle-work, and daj'after daj' ho would sit upon his bed making little gifts for thoso he loved. In his stronger seasons —which sometimes lasted for aeveral daj's together—lie was iiermittod to -walk about the streets of the place with a ser¬ vant foUowiug at a respectful distance to watch over him. One day my hua¬ band raet the little follow in the street, and took him kindly by the hand, win¬ ning his innocent heart as he always wins to him" tho pure and good. His name was Willie, but to make it even more soft and beating it had been changed to Lillie.
I sent for Dr. Ira Seeley tho morning after the letter came. Auntie had dis¬ pensed with his services about the time of our last interview. He came, and when I entered tho parlor, where he waited, advanced with both hands ex¬ tended, nnd his great smooth-shaved sensual face wreathed with a-disgusting smile, exclaiming:
" My dear Mrs. Herkness, this is an unexpected pleasure, trulj'."
"Please be seated, sir," I said, ina tone that froze all the warmth out of his moon face, and he sat do ivn.
" I havo received a letter from my husband," said I, " regarding the letters which J'OU stole out of liis pocket when he was sick. I hate j'ou for that mean aet!"
"Madame!" he ejaculated, with a faint attempt at bluster, " how dare you? I will not remain to be thus—ah—cal¬ umniated."
But I choose," said I, " that before you go, you should gaze on Misa LiUie Cass's portrait."
You should have seen the stare ivith which he greeted it.
"That is Miss LiUie Cass," said I. "I have only to add, that I do this act of penance—to tell you that T am asham¬ ed, at my conduct under your skillful ' management, and to say that in future I prefer that we should be entire strang¬ ers to each other."
Thus came down the good stick of that ugly rocket.
TO-SA'T AHS 10 UOBBO'W.
Don't teU jne of to morrow;
Give me the man who'U say, That, When a good deed's to be done,
" Let's d9 the deed to-day." We. may all command the present,
If we aet and never wait; But repentance Is the phantom
Of a past that come too late.
Don'ttellmeofto-morrow:
There la mneli to do to-day. That can never he Accomplished.
If we throw the hours away. Every moment has its duty,
Who the future can foretell ? Then, why put oflftiU to-morrow
What to-day can do as^vell ?
Don't tell mo of lo-morrow;
If wo look upon the past, How much that we have loft to do,
We eannot do at last; To-day It Is the on    time,
I'or all on this frail earth; It takes an ag» to form a life,
.K moment gives It birth.
HAPPY AT HOME.
The Uttle straw of every day habit, floating slowly and silently down the stream of lifo, shows very plainly which waj' the tide sots. And when Mrs. Pur¬ ple .saj's, with a groan, " My huaband never spends his evenings at home," it is natural to inquire within one's self why it ia that Mr. Purple finda other resorts ao much moro attractive than the household altar!
" I dou't see why he cau't be a Uttle moro domostic," says Mrs. Purple.
WoU, why is it? There is a reason for everythiug in the world say philoso¬ phers, and there must be a reason for this. ^
In the first place, Mrs. Purple is one of those unfortunatehousekeepers whose work is never done. There is always something dragging—a room to be awept lamps to be trimmed—fretful babies to be put to sleep, while one eyo is on the broiling meat and tho other on the mud¬ dy footprint unwittingly left by Mr. Purple on tho doorstep. " There, Pur¬ ple, I knew just how it would be. I wonder if j'ou know the use of a scraper or a door-mat. I should think after all the time I've spent in cleani ng up—"
And Mra. Purple goes off into a mon¬ otonous recapitulation of her troubles and trials that haa all the effect of a lul¬ laby upon lhe baby, however trying it may be to the feeUngs of the baby's fatheii.
Moreover, Jlrs. Purple, with all her '¦cleaning up," does not understand the elementary principles of keeping a house neat. Thinga are always "round in the way;" table-covers put on awry; dust aud ashes uuder the grate; curtains torn away from their fastenings and pinned up until Mrs. Purple can "fiud time" to readjust them. Somehow it looks forlorn, and desolate, and unhomelike wlieu the master of the house comes in at Ilight. Mr. Purple, man-like, can't tell where the defection lies—he don't analj'ze the chill that comes over his heart as he crosses the threshold—he oulj' knows that "things don't look ship-shape !" And so he takes his hat when his wife's back ia turned and sneaks ignominiously off, glad to get awaj' from the dead-aUve flre, tho dusty room, and Mra. Purple's tongue. Who can blame the man ? Mr. Purple mtiy be"lazy," and "careless," and "selfish," very likolj' he is—most men have a ten¬ dency that waj'-but nevertheless he don't like to be told of it over and over and over again, in that persistent, illo¬ gical sort of way that reminds j'ou of an old hen running from side to side in her coop, and jioking her head through the bars iu the same place every seven sec¬ onds! Mr. Purple naturally wonders why his wife don't occasionally allude to the few good qualities ho happens to possess! Mr. Purple has every inclina¬ tion to be happy at home, if his better half would only give him a chance.
Ofall the sweetly-tinted pictures of domestic happiness that we find in the pagesofHoly Writ, thereis nono that suggests more quiet comfort thau Abra¬ ham sitting in his tent door " in the heat of the day" imder the shadow of the palm trees of Mamre. Depend upon it, the good old patriarch never spent his evenings a-ivay from home. ILe didn't beUeve in "just going across the plains to Lot's house," or " running over to Sodom to hear the newa." No, Abraham liked to sit quietly by his tent ddor, and very likely Mrs. Sarah would come and lean over his shoulder and chat witll him after the Oriental fash ion! We have the very best of testimony for knowing that she was very amiable under the ordeal of "unexpected com¬ pany," when " thecalf tenderandgood" was dressed, and the " three measures of fine moal" baked on the hearth!
The idea of looking beyond the sphere of home for enjoj'ment is at the root of many ofour modern evils. Home should be the very centre and sanctuarj' of happiness; and when it is uot, there is some screw loose in the domestic ma- chinerj'! If you want to surround a young man with the best possible safe¬ guards, don't overwhelm him with maxims aud homilies as to what he is and IS not to do, but make his home hai>pj' in the evenings. Let him learn that however hard and cruel the outside world maj' be, he is alwayssure of sym¬ pathy and consideration in one place! Woe betide theman, whatever his lot or position, who has in his heart of hearts uo memorj' of a home where the sunshine never faded out and the voices were alwaj's swoet. Were he as Roths¬ child, he is a poor man.
A HAPPY WOMAU.
"Whatareyou singing for?" said I to Mary Maloney.
"Oh, I don't know ma'am, withoutit is beeause me heart feels happy."
"Happy, are you Mary? Why, let me see, you don't owu a foot of laud in the world."
" Foot of land is it?" she cried with a loud laugh, "Oh what a h.ind ye be after a joke. Why, aure, I've never a penny, let alone a fut of land." " Your mother is dead 1" " God rest hersQul, yis," replied Mary, with a touch of genuine pathos. "The Heavens be her bed."
" Your brother is atUl a hard case, I suppose."
" Ye may well say that. It's nothing but drink, drink, and bate his wife— thepoor craj'turc."
"You have to pay j'our sister's board."
"Sure, the bit crayture! and she's a good little girl, ia Hinny, iviUin' to do whatever I axes her, I don't grudge the money that goes for that."
" And you haven't manj' fashionable dresses, either?"
"Fash'nable, lait? Ohyis, 1 put a bit of whalebone in mo skirt, and me calico gown spreads as big as theleddies. But thin ye say true; I haven't but two gowns to my back, two shoes to me fut, and wan bunnit, barrin' me old hood." " You haven't any lover?" "Oh, bo off wid yez! catch Mary Ma¬ loney wid a lover these days, when the hard times is come."
" What on earth have you to make J'OU happy? A drunken brother, npoor helpless sister, no mother, no father, no lover—why, whore do j'ou get all j'our happiness."
".TheLord be praised, miss, itgrowed up in me. Give me a bit av sunshine, a clean flure, plenty of work and a sup at the right time, and I'm made. That makes me laugh and sing. And thin, if troubles eoine, I try to keep my heart up. Sure, it ivould bo a sad thing if PatrickMcGuire ahould take it into his head to ax me; but the Lord willin' I'd try to bear up uuder it."
PROFESSIONAL.
RE.WOVAI, OF 17. S. CI.AIM AOESCY. J. B. K.\UPF.M.VN. Has removed his Law and Collecting Olllce to his new residence, at No. (W East King street.
/IS-Pensions, Ilounllus, Back I'av, ttc, col¬ lected as usual. fjb 17 ly*13
lir.ll. K. SELrZER,
VV ATTORXEY-AT-LA'W.
Ephrata, Lancaster County, Vu., between tho Railroad and Eplu-ata Mountain Springs.
Jan 17- Iy-9
EHI,ES I-ICANKLIX, ATTOKNEY AT LAW, Has removed ills olllce to South Duke street, 2d door below East King streel. east sitle. All pro¬ fessional business entrusted to his caro wlil meet with prompt attention. , dec a-lt-i
AMOS H. umix. ArronxEY at law,
omce, No. 8 South Queen street, east side, a few doors birlow Centre Square, Lancaster, Pa. mar -20 'l>j ly 19
JOHN B.<iOOD, n^     VT    ,   .,     ATTORNEY AT LAW, omce. No. 50 East King street.  Hpcclai atten¬ tion given to Orphans' Uourt businessand Con¬ veyancing, [apl '(3-lv«
FliED. .4. P-TFER. A'l-rORNEY AT L.VW, Office in Widmyer's Row, No. -i s.nil h bitlte sL, Lancaster, Pa.    Pensions and ilouiuv claims promptly attended to. [jy I'j-tf a.j 'o-j
R-VV. SHESK, . ArronxEV .vt law,
Olllce with O. J. Dickey,-Soulh Iiueen streel, Lancaster, Pa. I jy '-- 'tj-j-l i
BC. KKE.VBT, ATTORNEY AT L.VW. Olllee with Hon. I. E.  Hiester, No. US Nort;. Duke St., I.ancjister, Pa.
*5-.Soldler.s' bounty, back p:iy and pnislons collected without delay. [niuroU '51-tf I'J
JK. Ai,EX.iynEn. ATIOUNEY AT LAW, Oftice In Duke street,oiiliositc theConi-t Xloi:*--;, Lancaster, Pa. [maj-J.i '(iVly*
SAXDEI. H. PRICE. ATri-lIlMEY AT l..\\V Otllee In South Duke street, .'( doors h.-loiv 11 Farmers' Uank, opposite Lullieran C:r.ii-cli. Janl 'Si-tf
-lITASmXGTOjr W. IIOPKIX.H. VV ATTORNl-'Y Af L.VW,
No. 23 North DJike Street, Lancaster, Pa. aug;» tf-l
Well-Diggino in Ciun.v.—There is a storj' of a tipsy fellow who attentively examined a cane-bottomed chair, and wondered who took the trouble to twist all those rattans around those littleholea. In China thej' dig a well aomewhat as this fellow supposed thej' made cane- aeuts. They make a holo flrst, aud then dig a plaee to put it in. "A pit twenty feet deep is dug, by which tiine water ia nearly reached. Boards about an inch thick are then placed at the bottom in the form of a circle, in the centre of the hole, its diameter being seven feet, wiiich is to be the width of the well at its bottom. Bound this wooden circle a cylinder of brick is then constructed to the height of Icn feet, the bricks be¬ ing carefully joined by mortar. Tho outsideof tbis cj'linderis then covered with matting and tightly roped round. Poles are then driven into the ground at short intervals all rovind tho outside of the cylinder, aud in close apposition with it. These are secured byaddition- al lashing of ropo applied round and over them. The inside of tho cylinder is then lined with matting, ivhich is se¬ cured by ropes jiassed down vertically and brought out underneath the cj'lin- der, ivhere the two ends are fastened aud the rope tightoned. By thesemeans any dialodgment of the bricks is phy.s- ically impossible, and the structure is rendered aa compact as if it was made of metal. The strengthening of the brickwork having been completed, they oommenee to dig inside of it, and as the earth is removed from tho interior, the cylinder gradually sinks bj' ita own weight, the excavation being continued until the upper margin of the cj'linder haa reached thelovel ofthe original hole twenty feet deep. The weU of thirty feet is thus formed, aud rapidly finished in the most complete manner by build¬ ing up a continuation of tho brick cj'l¬ inder until it reaches the lovel of the ground.
TXr't- Ai'«- ati.ee.
yV A'lTOUNEY AT LAW, Olllce, No. jr, l-:;v.l King St., ojiposlte Jonathan .Spreeiier's IIi-:. 1, Lancaster City, Pa oct li>-ly*-l-i
WM.-n'IIITFJi!»E. DENTIST. Oflico, corner of North Queen and Orani;c st:^, above I£.'ithvon'"s Clothing .store, and dlre-.-llv opposite Shober's Holel, Laucaster, I'a. ap.'i'65 tfliii
An. WIT.1IER. .   COUNTY SliRVEYOll. DEPUTY COili.'- NER, JUSTICE OP TIIE PEACE AND CO.V- VBY;VNCEH.
Also gives particular attention to clorkhig sales of real and personal iiniiii;:tj-. atany »1:^- tance within'the county. Orders from a di — tance pniintitlj' attended to.
Olllce in Manor townshiii, Lancaster troun'.y,, onc mile nortll of .Safi; Harbor, on the l.ane:Tr- ter road.   Address Safe Harbor Pt.it ulllt-e.
aug 19 To . l.'.-=;i
AVCTIOXEERIKG. DEN.LVMIN F. P.OWK respectfully Infornis tlie;puliUt: that he -.vlll :i[- tend to Crylng.Sales of real anti iiersoiiai prii-.:- ort.v In any part of the comity.
Those wishing his serviiri-.s are requested to apply to GEB.VUDIIS CL.VItKSli.N'. i;s,,..al '.lie Prothontitary's OHiee, who will promiitiy.i'.- tend to t he matter. *   ' i
- Letters athiressed to me at Smithville 1*.')., Lnnciutttrrcounty,¦.vllllieiir.niiptlyattentli'd t...
R'eubes 31. roLrz. AUCTinNi-;r.r..
on'ers his services to the t-itizeiis nf tht:'. "il va iiil Couniy, In Cryin-.; Sales of It-.-al or I'ei-'r.<i;, t! Proiierty. Persons wlshiiii:his.¦;ervicese-n :.r-e him at Solomon Sprecher's l-;;;eiauige lt-j-.--i. East King Street, Lancaster. i\:. tall il- Jii:-r
Joirv K. zF.i.i.F.n. SURVEYOR AND CONVKYANf'i^l;, sVlso gives particular :iltenti--ui toi-IiTkiliirs;;;. ¦ of real and personal propert.vgat any distiin.-.- within the eounty.
Olllce In .Springville, .Ilount .Inr Inwn;;':!i. Lanca-ster connty. Atltli-t-ss Si.riii-.; ti-.o:-.. a P. O. loci ¦v.i-iy -,-,
LEGAL  NOTICE
NOTICK.
To the Heirs and legal llcprc.^ont.ifi\-es
of Hannah Heiisun, lale of S;:d3-
burj- twp., Lanc'r eo., l'a.,
deceased.
YOU are hereby notltlt-d that by virtue of r.n order of the Orphans'Conn of Lam-asltr-.-.. tome directed, I will hold an liaiuesL toilivi.lr-. part or valut: tiio llt:al Estate of Hannah lh n- son. dec'd, on S.-VTUItD.VV, tiie .'list tlav '.i' MjVRCII, I.Slili, at 1 o'clock, ii. in., at lh.* preliii- - cs tn Sadsliiir>- twii,, l..-inc;is(er e.iniuy. I'.-'.. when anil where you may .-iltend if you Uiiiik liroiier. 1'. S.11 ITH. shtri 11'.
Sheriirs OITico, Lancaster, l-'eb. -±1, l:-[.li. fell 2S-I-15
An Important Witness.—^Jeremiah Mason was engaged as counsel in the celebrated trial of Rev. E. K. Avery a Methodist divine, for the murder of a J-oung ladj' in Rhode Island. Heexperi- enced great difficulty in obtaining evi¬ dence sufiiciont to establish his case, when one night about twelve o'clock, as he was hard at work, a well-known clergj'man rushed iu upon him breath¬ less with excitement, and exclaimed, " Mr. Mason, I've got the evidence that will clear brother Avery."
" Well, air, what ia it?"
" Yea, sir, I have it. I had a dream last night in which the Angel Gabriel appeared and aald Avery waa inno¬ cent."
" "\fery good, sir, then take that sum¬ mons and have it served on Gabriel at ouoell"
Paradise for Pukoatoby. — Pure religion uses onlj' moral agencies. Par¬ ties use onlj' political agencies. They are separate, exclusive, antagonistic.— Moral agencies are like the majeaticand tranquil ebb and flow of ocean tides, that bear to and fro the civilizing com¬ merce, the goodness aud grandeur of nations. Political agencies are the thun¬ der and lightning of rainy weatlier— making much mud and miaery. The "same old tune" on the hurdy-gurdy. (If j'bungstera do not hear it, it is be¬ cause they themselves are beginning to "grind." The saj'ing applies, "the hair ofthe dog cures the bite.") ]?arty poli- tiea ia a roaring maelstrom of sin, evor whetting its insatiate jaws for moro vic¬ tims, as in the war, the nation's noblest and best. Y''ouiig man! beware of the first seductive touches of the whirlpool. It ia so easy at first, and at last the gid¬ diness makes insensible. Talk j'C of providing for the public tranquility and welfare of the nation, by listening to auch Satanic shrieks and surges, iu the stench of such sulphureous steam ? To commend polities is Uke the dj'ing drunkard's cry for "more whiaky." "By a tree's fruit it is known;" and that of party politics is only Dead Sea
fruit—Sodoms and Gomorraha! and
alas, Golgoihas! Instead of having been to the welfare of our nation, I fear it will yet be ita farewell. Christianity is eternal progress; but politics is a backhold on barbarism. The faith¬ ful of Israel "go ftDrward," but some "lust after the fleshpots of Egj'pt." It is the old Adam ready to eat the fatal fruit greedily when "others force it on him"—exchanges Paradise for Purga¬ tory.
A hungry friend said: " that nothing is better' than cold beef." Beg your pardon, said I " cold beef Is better than nothing!"
Manners are what vex or sooth, exalt or debase, barbariso or refine us, by a constant, steady, uniform, insensiblo operation, like thatof the air wc breathe in. They give their whole form aud color to our lives. According to their quality they aid morals, they supply them, or they totally destroj' them.
A Secret.—WiUiam Wirt'a letter to his daughter on the " small, sweet cour¬ tesies of life" contains a passage from which a deal of happiness might be learned:—" I want to toll j'ou a secret. The way to make j'ourself pleasing to others is to show them attention. The whole world is like the miller at Mans¬ field, ' who e.ired for nobody, no not he, because nobody cnred for him.' And the whole world would servo j'OU so, if you gave thom the samo cause. Let everyone, therefore,see that j'ou do care for tliem, by showing them what Sterne BO happilj- called tho small courtesies, in which there ia no parade, whose voice is too still to tease, and ivhich manifest themselves by tender and af¬ fectionate looks, and little aets of atten¬ tion, giving othera the preference in every little enjoj'ment, at the table, in the field, ivalking, sitting, nnd stand¬ ing."        _
Where's the Advant.vge.—" Ah ! here you are, mj' good fellow; how d'j'e do? Upou my honor it does my heart good to seo you once more! How's j'our family and the old woman ? we haven't seen her for a long time—when is she coming down to seo my wife?" "I am quite well, I thank j'ou; but indeed, sir, J'OU have the advantage of me." "Advantage! my good fellow—what advantage;" " Why, really, sir, I do not know j'ou!" " Know me! well, I do uot know you; ivhere in the deuce is the advantage?"
Good Luck.—Sundry semi-supersti¬ tious and limber-backboned folks make much ado about "luck"—as if this was ii*ivorld of chance! Such is bald athe¬ ism. " If ye aow not, neither shall ye reap; what j-e sow, that shall ye rotip," ia tho Bible statement of fortuuo. Man is master of chance. Labor rules the very universe. Diligence is the sacred alchemy that converts earth's ores into jewels. With a farmer, "the philoso¬ pher's stone" helps build a fenee. The owl's motto is " luck to-night," as he mopes all daj' in a hollow tree.
Would you have good luck? Then get up earlj', and mind your own buaineas when up—not j'our neighbor's ; spend less than j'ou earn; earn everj' cent be¬ fore J-ou spend one; keep out of debt; especially keep money in j'Our pocket: wait on yourself, for shirking is essen¬ tially theft; alwaj's heed the counsel o^ your wife in doubtful enterprises; treat other people as you would be treated; display Uberalitj' of soul and charity of opinion, with honor and honesty; above all, trust iu God and you may properly consider your life a success—a clear vin¬ dication of beneficent law, an uttor re¬ buke of visionary "luck."
He that cannot forgive others breaks the bridge over which' he must pass himself; for every man haa need to be forgiven.
AD3IISI.STK,4.T«KS- x<yr5t'i:.
Estate of Susanna Gerliai't, late of Wo;-t
Coealieo township, tU-eunrietl.
LETTERS of adniinlstratltm on said c-^i.ite having beengra/itetl to lhe unilei-.-^iL'iictl, nil personsliitlebtedtheretoare retiuestedtomaUe Immeiliatesotllemcnl.antl those liaviii'4e!:',;:i'.s or demands against lhe same wii! iii;e.-.fnL ti.t tn witliout tiela.v for settlonienl to the unilcisi;:u- ed, residing in saitl twp.
PETER CKKIT.VP.T. LEVI W. .IIE.N'I'aEH. fell 21-{il»-l) Ailnilnisl-.-alor'.
ASSIOXEE'S SOTU'E.
Assigned Estate of Esther  A.   llc.=s, of Little Britain tivji., Laneastereo.
ESTHER A. nE.SS, of Liltle I'.rilain tv.-i'., having by dceil of voluntao' assignni.-nt, dated March 20tli, IStiti, assigned anil tr.-iiisfi;ri'e.l all her estate antl eileets to the iiniiet-signi-d. for the beneiit oftha crcdltorsoftht^saitl Lslher A. Hess, ho therefore gives notictf loall per.suns Indepted to said assignor, to tiiakti pa.vmeiit hi tho undersigned without tlelay, antt lliose hav¬ ing claims lo present to
KOHEllT OmSON. Assignee. Residing In LItllw llrilaiii twp. Fob. 21. no-ll-'-O:
XOTH'E.
rjIHE pnbllcarchercbyiiotifipd nnt It.takenii X. or Inany way Interfere with saw lti_g5 It.iin-i ailoat onthe Sustiuehanna P.iver lieln-.v Wil¬ liamsport, In the ensuing spring fre.slit?i, or al any time during the present year, as'all the logs In the river below that iioliil are tiiteiit! .( lo be driven lo Havrc-de-Ilraee. Mtl.
D. W. SMl'lII.
.\. O. I'. DODOE.
DUDLEY liLANCII.VP.tl. W1T.T.I.VMSP0UT.   1 Cominittre.
Eeb. I5lh, ISCO. ( fi-b -li :'.iii 1 i
KOfit'E.
To the Hell's and Legal Rupi-e.-tciitativt-s
of Christian Grod; late of We-si Eiirl
township, Laucaster counlj' anil
State of Pennaj-lvania, (loe'd.
YOU are hereby notilieil that by virtue e.f rn orderofthe Orphans' I'tnirt t>f l.;:iiea-!i-t- eonnty.toine illreettrtl, I v.-ill hold an iiUiin .-: to divide, part or value lhe real e».l.-ile of Cliris¬ tian Ciroli: tiec'tl, on 'ri;i->^li.VY, the Inth tlav t.f APRIL, ISIjli. at 1 o'eloi-k. ji. ill., at the pieliiis. s, '.n West Earl twp., LaiieasltTr tiiui:l,v. win ii and where you iiiiiy alleiitl If vou tliiiru laoi'tr. l-'.s.MI'lIf.sritiii:. SlinillFF's Oi-l:-lcE,I.aneasler, l-V-li. ¦^ ISiiti. feb21 ' ,    1,1-: I
>'OTJ«'E.
110 all whom this may coiieern, I liercbv ¦.;ive , notice that Iwill not pa.v an.v tli-b!>t-oiili;:.'- ted by my wife. Eve shrottier. from the b.i t'.av of .Tanuarv, istje, hence fiu-wanl.
febi;i-it»ii      FUEUEiiicR siir.nr.Di'.i;.
EXECETOIfS XOTU'E.
Estate of Alexander Scott, late of I.ill,'-,! Britain township, deeeaseif.
LETTERS testamentary on saitl eslate havi :i:' liccn grantetl tothe iiiulersliiiie.i. all i„:- BoiiR intlebtetl tliereloar.i r.-titiesled i-, mat,- Immetliale payment. an,l lliii..e liaviiii4 ,!.- mantis a'.;allist thesaiiii.' -.t-ill lu-t-senl Ihtiii ;,,r seltlemi-ht to llie uinlersigiieii, ri-.-i'liny in >i;i,l
township.       a. 11. nam, i •
Little l'.ritain|-.'.-!i.. i i^
ELI7..VI!l-:i'll .11. ll.Vl.Ni.'s, "•;
feb 1-I-Ot-l.'! Colerain twii.. • -
A»HIXiS'rK.VT<>K-.S >.'«'I'J«'E.
Estate of John Brandt,  late   of We^l Donegal twp., ilecca-toil.
LETTERS oC iidmlnlsli-alion on ;;aid ,- t.-ie h.iving been gninted lo lln- uiuli-r.-i-.-n ''..-..'I'l persons Indebted tliei-i-to:ii-t-re,iut>!,-.i :t,iii.J:,- Immetliiite payment and thi^se ha-.-iiiL' i-i-,;i:L^ or demands agaliLst llie samt- wiil j,;-. i-,nl n. withoutdelay for setlleiin-nl to t'ae un¬ ed, residing In said tou-usliii'.
J.VCiJlir. NI.<Kl.i-:Y. febI0-l)t«I2 ..Vdiniiiisi..-:¦¦!
:ivi;-
AWHX!.ST1!.4'1'«B'.« -XO'ITJC!:.    ^
Estate of Henry Yo.s:t,  lale of Martic
twp., (Ici'.'ll.
LKrTETl.S of adniinlstralion on saitl estate having been granted to the lintlersiiitietl. aU persons Indflitt-d thiretoali-ri iimrsleil ii. niak- lniincdialesetlltMiient.aliiHliiisohavingelaiiils or dcmantls against thesame will pi-iseiu till 111 without tlela.v ftir.s-attlement to llie uinlci.s;i:ii- Gd resiiiing In Centre .'stinare, York. i'a..oi:.> .1. II. J.ivlngtlon, his attoriii-y, Esij.. I.anianli ,-. Pa.
D.vNii-:t. F. Yos-r,
feb 10-f;t-12 Ailiniiu.stial..i-.
NOTJCE.
To the Heirs and'legal representaiiv.-.-
of .lames Robinson,   lalu oi l.iulc
Britain twp., Lanc'r ci>., l'n.
YOU are hereby notified that l«v virtue of an order nf the Orphans' Court of I.aiir-;i--;,r eoanty to me directed. I wiil liold nn iiuitioi :o dlvlde.part or value thei:t-.-iI t:s(.-ile t,l .I.-ii,;--, Robinson, ilec'd, on S.VTl'KLi.VY, the L'illi .l.iy of ILUtCH, l.SOi. at 1 o-.-lork, 11, 111., at ihepr,- mlscs In saitl twii..wlieii antl'lvliere ytai iiivy atteud Ifyou think proper.
1-'. SMITH. Slicrill. ShcrllPfi Olllce. Lancaster, Feb. u, U-CO. fell ll)-lit-li 	
AI>.HIJfI.STB.VTOR'.S XO'l'IilE.
Estate of Margaret I'errcc, late of rar.i- dise twp., dec'd.
LETTERS of Administration on .saitl cst.ite having been grautt;tl to the iiuilt-r.-Ii;ii,-il. all persons Indebted Iherelo are retiuesteit lo make Immediate settlement, antt those Iiavlrg claims or deniaiitls agaiast the same, will |.i,- sent them without tlelay for .seulemenl io lho undersigned, residing in saltllownsiili.
mar 7-(it«l0
ELISHA FEIlllEl-:. Adnillilslrator.
AI>llIXISTn.VTOUS' XOTICE.
Est.ifc of David H. .Sensenich, E.^q., late of Carnarvon twp., dec'd.
LETTERS of administration on said estate having been granted to the undcrsignetl, all Fiersons indebted thereto arc retiuestetl lo iiink.^ mincdlatesettlement,and those having clainiM or demands against the same will present them without delay forsettlement to the miderslgneti
residing in said township.	
MARGARET SENSENICH, DAVID K. PLAN K, mar 7-8t«l(J AdmlnUtrators.