Lancaster Examiner and Herald

              LAMJASTER, PA.,
EXAJUDirEB & HEBAXJV.
FXTBLISEZS ETEB1WIDSEBDAT.
At Ho.4 Ifeitt ftttMH »tra«I, L«iUiait»r, r«.
TBmiM-««.<>0 A TEAB IH APTA3TCK.
INO. A. SIBSTAKD * ». Jt KLIITB,
Sdltors and Proprtetbri,
IHB OOMTS OFIHK, EIABT. '¦
Soti Mia Uirctegh tho KOtherMti twUlgbts'
¦    The rain ft6mt^--•-'—• '—*^    ¦   '¦
AnaBUnnrtmia-t
inanunjllmthodrlgjlg^gi.
rrhe dead niia theiMliglaKf««i]ii'
WhlbitafarinUioimdsi:orilio«hadowi:, ¦
I bear tho ewoet votcefi ^f tbe bel is Come bome«ntli6wlnAo7tbe Autumn,
Thni lllfUUy rises and swells:   ' They calLond they answer each othor—
They answer and mingle again— As Uie deep and the «hrlU In an autliom
Mako harmony still In th<^r strain; As the voices of sentinels ni'nglo
In raonntalnoua regions of snow. Till from hill top to hill top a chorus
FloaU down to the valleys bolow.
Tlio shadows, tbe flre-llKht of evon,
Tho souud of tbo rain's dlstAUt ohlmo, Oonio bringing, with rain softly dropping.
Sweet thoughts ofa shadowy time; Tho slumberous sonse of seclusion.
From storm and Intruders aloof, Wo fool when wo bear In tbo midnight
Tho patter ol rain on tlie roof.
When tho spirit goes forth In Ila yearnings,
To tnko all Its wanderers home. Or, afar In tbe regions of fancy
Delights on swift pinions io roam, I quietly sit by tbe firelight—
Tbe llteligbl so bright and bo warm— For I kuow lhat iuoso only who lovo mo
Will seek me through shadow aud storm.
Rut shonld they be absent this evening,
Should even tho household depart— Deserted, I should not be lonely ;
There still would bo guests In my heart, Tbe faces of frieuds that I cherish.
The smile, and tlio glance, nnd the tone. Will haunt me wherever I wander;
And thus 1 am never alone.
With those wbo have left far bohlnd them
TIio joys aud tbe sorrows of time— Wbo slug the sweet songs of tbe angels
In a pnier:md holler clime! Ttien darkly, O cveuluKof Autumn,
Your rain and your Nhadows may fall; AIv loviHl and my lost <ines you bring m^—
i^I v Iie:u-t holds a feiust with them all.
ST. MASK'S EVE.
To all America I respeclfully beg Ic.ivo to deilic-xle my tale. To all tlioso who are seeking to enter iuto the holy eslate of matrimony I present the Iirst portion, and thoso who have already known the troubles and joys, the cares and bliss of a connubial life, Avill find tho latter part applicable to themselves. Ihcsofall not tn despise it for the homely dress it will be arr.ayed in. I mean it to be so, the plain common garb Iitted for the everj-xlay use of lifo —si>un and woven from home-made materials. I am writing this as if I wns perfectly sure of ita being accepted Iiy that formidable person, " tho icdt- tor," who is oftentimes by no means e.isy to suit. This much by way of jire- face.
Dora Newby, the subject of my tale (I cannot ciU her heroine), wns the only child of her father—a substantial, well to-do farmer, and a widower. As a matter of couse, Dora grew up petted and well-nigh spoiled. Sho Wiis natu¬ rally inclined to be self-willed, petu¬ lant and selfish; and the want of a mother's guiding, and a kind, easy father's spoiling, in no little measure increased aud strengthened all her fail¬ ings. She grew up wild and untaught, save what it pleased herself to learn by occasional fits and sUirts. She grew also prettier with every passing year, until she reached the age of eighteen, and was then a petted, spoiled j'oung woman with plenty of admirers, for' she was the village heiress as well aa ita hello.
Dora did not believo in having only one string to her how. She wanted moro, and she kept two alwaj-s on hand. A large well-built man named Bimirthwaite, aud a little, smart, active one, namM Benjamin Richmond, wero her tw-o favored swains. She tyran¬ nized over both of them, and kept thera in a constant state of uncertainty, en¬ couraging now one, now the other, as the humor suited her, and this not for weeks or months only, but for years. Five long years she kept them both at¬ tached to her, until their patience was well nigh tired out.
Dora was quick enough to see this, and had half resolved to malce up her mind and delemiino in the favor of one.or thn ptlny v'l*"" r.)f/\ iiatJf ilo^y- ea tho matter for lier sooner than sne Intended.
Newby Grange was an old-fasliloned farm house, with all the old appliances of large closets, wide chimneys, and capacious brick oven. This oven was in the sitting-room, and heated by a Hue from the large fire of the kitchen. The sitting-room had two bay-windows overlooking the garden, and these bay- windows were the places where her love-making generally went on.
Aa I have said, live years' courtship had been the hard, unrequited servi¬ tude of both her followers, when one day, a Saturday, iu tbe sunny month of June, Ben Kichmond was seen by the watching, expectant Dora ooming up tbo garden path to pay his usual weekly visit, with an unusual look of resolve and determination on his face. It was so. The long, hot walk had tired him, and he had come fully determined that day to know his fate, either to be accepted or rejected without any long¬ er fooling. Dora intuitively felt that to-day, at last, she could no longer tri¬ fle, and felt annoyed at the thoughtof being driven up into a corner; and partly from pique, partly from willful¬ ness determined to say no, shortly and flatly, to his request.
All in vain wero poor Ben's earnest entreaties and passionate pleadings; all in vain his long, weary waiting, and he gave it up well-nigh in despair. Ho made, however, one last attempt, ono flnal appe.il, when, in the midst of his talking, they beard the garden gate creak on'its hinges, and, looking out, saw tlie tall form of John Smurth- wnite striding up tlie path.
Now it so happened Smurthwaite had corao as well that very day, big with the same resolves that possessed Ben. Here was a to-do. Well did Dora know how Smurtliwaitc had vowed that if ever ho caught Ben In the act of poaching, as he termed it, ou his ground he would inflict on lilm sueh bodily punishment as ho would not easily forget.
There was no lack of cour.ige in littlo Ben, hut still he felt and knew he was utterly unable in phj'sical strength to compete with Smurthwaite. \Vhat was to be done ?
Poor Bon! fear of punishment, and still greater fear of any appearance of cowardice before Dora, tugged hard at his heart. Dora herself decided the matter. She wislied no fighting or dis- turb.ince, at least In ner presence.
"Here, quick, Ben," she said, trying tho two cupboard doors in tho room, "oomein Iiere until he goes." Alas the doors were locked and tho keys np' stairs In her bedroom.
"Wliatever shall I do!" she ejacu¬ lated; her eye lighted on the old-fash¬ ioued oven—the very place shethought, and opening the door In crept Ben.— Scarcely was ho safely stowed in when Smurthwaite entered the room.
Long, very loug, he sat, and, like Bun before him, plead his causo nnd urged his suit with no encouragement from Dora. He was interrupted, how¬ ever. In the midst of his most pathetic appe.ll by a loud thump, where from he could not tell. " What is that, DoraY" Ue inquired. " Only the rate," was the answer. Ag.ilu he beg.in his entreaties, again to be Iiiterruptod by auother loud knock and the sound of a voice shut up and half smothered.
" For God's sako let mo out," it cried, " I am roasting alive!"
Dora remembered all loo late that it was baking day, and the servant Iu tho Kltcheu, all unwottiug of tlie strange ooounant of the oven, had drawn out the damper and let in tho heat
Ere Unra could reach the door it flew opeu and out tumbled Bon, hot and an¬ gry,, before the astonished gaze of Smurthwaite.
" JobDiH said Ben, as soon as ho could Bjieafe;" take ray claim to Dora. I have done wlthiher. I always heard love- making waa wnnn work, but never so hot OS I havo fonnd it. Good by, Dora, I do not oboose being mado a cake of liketo-day ;"andheleftthem. Smurth¬ waite and Dora-botn iaqghed; they could not help It; and as'he, felt how ludicrous , any more attempts at love- makin^.would be," tie also yeiy sUortly after left; Left, iind never •iefnrhed agaliij aixd 80 Dora lost thom .both;' ' .
Young, ladies, all. take:'mtidvic?.. Keep ono atringtoybdr.bdw, if ybiJflnd! It a good strong servlceixble one, aild'do' not {ilay with two UntlVBdth break."'' For a few months DorhVSa ipverless.i when, at length, a third appealed hi thei -perBon?of-J5htt>Vannote,- and,-after a' Bhorty'«vary: short probation^ .was'aq-^ '^Pi^'jlt'" *'?* ¦"°' Paaslngwith i)i>r*,' and both herformeradmir^ iiad takien. to- tbemiselvea partners: less, obdiuato than herself, and Dora did not care toi live and die an old maid. <
• John Vaniiote and bis wife soon, too soon, however, found out how unsulted they were for each other—too soon for their haitifiiness, too lote, liowever, to remedy It - They were both alike in disposition; equally selflsh and each loving their own self the best.
I It was a sore and grievons disappoint¬ ment to both John and his wife that no children blessed theirunlon. God.with- held this.great :Bift and blessing from them.   No little prattling voice was
(B(Sfi'"aresjafi; np wee~|8MiiHe;feet patter^ 'byief rthe, floor, ':.Thfii';goldeh link waB.wanting io unite the faatrust- iug and irksome fetters vith-which they had boand thbmselves' together: and great was the trouble of both,'and loud Dora's murmuring thereat. And what should have but drawn them closer to¬ gether for mutual comfort and sympa¬ thy became an additionai cause of dis¬ satisfaction and discontent.
And so, day by day, the little love each had for tho other cooled and was fast dying away. Day by day each one grew more and more intensely selflsh, less and less careful of each other's com¬ fort and happiuess, and more miserable aud wretched—fiotting ever more and more at the strength ot the chain which bound them together.
I am writing no fanciful, ehildlsh story. T3od knows my purpose and tale is serious enougli, and one of too fre¬ quent occurrence. In every little oct of their daily lives they very soon got to thwart encli other. Very quickly iio mutual concessions were offered. Scarce a nie.il p.isscd by without quarrelling aud squabbling about some little unim¬ portant trifle. Each had the samo lik¬ ings, and each resolved to gratify them at the expense of the other. In a few words their lives became grievous and burdensome, both to themselves and all connected with them ; and they very quickly grew to poailively disliking each other.
And so the months passed until it came near the evo of St. Mark. Kow in the Norlli of Kugland thero is a great deal of siiperstitiou attaclied to this night. It ia very generally believed th.it the ghosts of all who w"ill dio the ensiuing year walk In solemn procession at the midnight hour down the road tlieir Collins will hereafter pass lo the church porch. This eve falls ou the 24 th of April.
Leading to the village church in the plaeo where these two lived were two roads-tho one the publlcroad tlirough the village, and another, a bj--path, across some flelds.
Wheu the 24th of April came rouud in due courso of time, it occurred to Jolm Vannote that he would go that night aud seo if his wife's ghost would make its appearance. It ao happened a similar resolve possessed Dora. Of course ueitherof them betrayed hy word or sign their intention to the other. The day passed and night came. After tea Johu fidgeted about; for sorao time, and theu left the house for tho ontensi- ble purpose of foddering and looking after tho cattle. Cora, as soou aa liis back was turned, put on her bonnet and shawl and went out too, on a pre¬ tended visit to a neighbor. Tho night was a moonlight oue, but the moon's light was obscured hy passing clomls.
Aa soon aa Johnii.id{ finished tending the cattle, half ashamed of his erraud, and fearing to meet any of his neigh- bora, he made his way acroaa the flelds to the church yard. Dora, more timid, chose esoctly nt the s.inio time tho road through the village. The one arrived at the church yard gate just aa the oth¬ er reached the style from the fields iuto it. Silently and quietly they both, un¬ known to each other, went iuto tho porch; they reached it, and just theu the moon shone out for a few-moments, full and clear in each other's faces. They both stared at each other—along, steady look, and then the moon's light was withdrawn behind a cloud ; and when it agaiu shone out the church porch was empty—both had as silently- returned homo, each thinking they had seen tlie other's ghost.
The table waa laid for supper when John Vannote eamo in, and hia wife Dora aitting sewing by the fire. Some hot sausages and mushed jwtatoes were warming by it—his favorite supper. Asto.nished at the unwonted attention
drew hia chair to the table, aud both sat down aud proceeded to eat it. One sausage remaiued after each had been fairly and equally helped. Each of them, heretofore, would have claimed aud sought to havo it. To Dora's as- tonlshinent John very quietly took it and laid iton her plate without a word. As quietly she removed it baek to his. The servant looked ou aatonislied at this unaccustomed proceeding on both their parts. Again and again w-as tho same thing doue—each attempting to forco it on tho other, and both nearly (juarrellng about making tho other take it. The same feeling actuated both— each thought the other doomed ero very long to death, and felt, for the short time yet left them to he together, they could afford to bo kind to each other. At least such was the tenor of the thoughts of each as they went to rest that night.
" Ah well," thought Johu, " I wou¬ der when she will go—how soon or how late in the year; won't the houso be quiet without her! However, I'll he kind to her and bear with her for the short time she has to Uvo, so that ray conscience cannot reproach me wlieii she's gone."
And so week after week passed, and month after montli, each giving a little and taklngalittle—hearing and lorhetir- ing with each other; and so the time passed, and tlie year drew near to its close, and another Bt. Mark's Eve ap¬ proached.
Ono wild, gusty, rainy March night as both were seated near the fire, Dora working and John smoking, his thoughts went wandering over the past year and wondering on into the future. And OS he sat and smoked and thought, he felt half sad she would so soon have to leave him; for, after all, Ihought he, she has been a good wife to me the lost ten mouths. No doubt death has cast his softening shadow over her, and sho feels changed by it. BtiU it puzzled him: there she sat, so healthy-looking, so contented, and so happy—it must be sudden, thought he; ought I not to tell her what 1 know, and so warn and prepare her for it? I will, he resolved, and just then seeing her look thought¬ fully at himself he got ready to speak : "John," said Dora, suddenly,"! shonld miss j-ou vorj- much ifyou were to leave me."
Ho started and nearly jumped off his chair.   His very thoughts of lier.
"Dear me, Dora! how j-ou startled rae, for I was thinking tlie sumo of you."
" Wore yon?" answered Dora. "Ah, well, I shall he sorry when you go."
" I go, Dora! It's your tnrn firat, ray lass, I'm after thinking."
" I do not think ao," sho replied, " I know you've to go soon, nnd 1 thought I ought to tell you."
"t S^''^ '^° y™ '¦'''i'^ s" '" Because]; saw your ghost w.ilk on St. Mark's Evo," said Dor.i. " And I saw thine," answered Johu. "Huraplyou were there, then, John?" " I was, Dora, and it seems tliou too ?'' They were both silent again a short time, and Dora sat and sewed, and Johu smoked and thonght.
"Dang it all, Dora," said John, " we're beon uncommon happy the past year, why shouldn't it be so to tho end, eh, Dora? Thou'ltgie a little and I'll gie a little, and we'U try aud haud on BO for the future."
And to tlio end Ihcy tried to do so. Of courso nt times there w.is an occa¬ sional outbreak, but uever for long— and a happier life wua the result, aud not the only result.
For, after seven years' married ex-i perience, two of them dLssension anil trouble, and the, other five of mutual help: and assistance, Dora, contented with her lot and feeling happier every day Ayith her husband, he, prosperous and satisfied, both of them, were yet to receive a surprise, and thata joyful one. A young Jolin Vannote most unex¬ pectedly made his appearance, and after uim a little girl aud another son, and the measure of their happiness was cdmplcte. '
. Does my story lieed any moral where¬ with to point it? Can not one and all of my readers find it in this simple -vil¬ lage tale ? Jfeed I Bay.in words ho-w it IS that our lives so often fail of their BTcat, grand pnrpose and aim throngli neglect of little things—little wonis of
[Correspondence oftho Boston Journal.]
AUONG THE HOBHOKS.
sympathy, little deeds of-kindness, the "™e8»m8ofamenlty which mb down JBS'H^.L'^'i *^e rough corners of the hard ;W»lie}bna bring into full: uiay Its most HeatitifiU colors ? Oh; ¦ reader: mine, Htoni-ftot mjr tato for its- homely garb, -bntcnt'-and flt it to thine own: daily 'wear.-.-©espise not the day of iittle
thlDgBj'folr'' }¦:¦..,:¦
•• uttlo tWngs on Uttlo -wings Ueur np our Bonis to Hoayen."
SOENJBIN SALT LAKE CITY.
From the top of an overland stage coach we have our flrst look at the chief olty of the Latter Day Saints as wo ap¬ proach it from tlie west. Wo behold a beautiful panorama. Northward Is the Great, Salt Lake, calmly reposing be¬ neath an autumnal sky, not aripploioii |it8!Biirfaco,,not.:a.living:thUig in its Itiansparent waters; a solitudo oruiindi 108 profound as: that-brooding over tho 'Dead Sea of-Palestine.; Eastward rlfetis a.mountain wall, -yhito -with snow nt the top, hiies like tlie ever changing aii- illhe.ayes upon the slopes, iu tlie ra¬ vines-and gorges. Southward is the Salt Lako valley, througii whicli flows the Jordan—not the stream dear to the Ohurcli Universal, but the Jordan of this Latter Day Churcli, flowing through a valley ten or flfteen miles wide.
THE CITV.
The city lies before us on the eastern edge of the valley. We cross tho river upon a substantial trestle bridge, meet men with farm wagons—long, lumbor- ing affairs, common throughout the West. Every farmer has a wife and children with him—the women wear¬ ing shaker bonnets—the children ro¬ bust, cbuiiby-faeed, curly-headed, pic¬ tures of iiealth.
We enter a broad street—houses of one story ou both sides, built of bricks dried in tho sun. A stream of pure water flows down the street. The gar¬ dens are green with cabbage and tur¬ nips. Wc look out upon peach orchards —the leaves falling earthward with every passing breeze. Eosy-cbeeked apples aro still hanging on bending branches. Along the street are rows of locust and alianthus, with changing foliage.
A lialf dozen men are at work upon the highway, with ball and chain at¬ tached to their legs—paying the pen¬ alty for crime. We turn Inlo tho main street of the city and behold a lively scene—wagons in from the couutry with produce, grain, apples, garden products, loads of wood, brick and stone; ox teams, horses and mules. Farmera who have sold their produce are making purchases for their families. In almost every wagou we see a new cradle or a bedstead, or cliairs—evi¬ dence of increasing population. The streets are already populous witli chil¬ dren. ISabics.ibound. Scores of women are ou the sidewalk truudliug baby car¬ riages, or with chlldreu in arms.
We whirl past the Church store, be¬ fore whicii are the public scales. The church weigher is weighing a lo.id of hay. A second team, loaded witli grain, is walling ita turn. Tliia is the titliing ofliee, wliere one-teuth of the gross re¬ ceipts of every Saint is paid over to the church.
Brigham Young, with his one wife and numerous concubines, lives on tbis street at our lelt hand, as we whirl on to the stage oilice. Wc will take a look at his establishment by and by when wo draw another sketch.
We are in the heart of the clij-, g.iz- iiig upon sp.icious stores. We liave been live days and nights in the desert, looking out ujoii barren wastes, upon scarred mountains, breathing alkali air, drinking bitter water, ridiug liuudrcda of miles without seeing a greeii leaf, and it ia like a vision of Paradise lo be¬ hold such outw.ird signs of thrift, pros¬ perity, care and comfort, h.ippiuesa and jieace.
With cracking whip and liorses upon the gallop, we roll on to the stage ollico aud descend from our high perch. We gaze astonished upon Bun-ouudlug scenes. Iu this jewelrj-sloie we maj- huj- the best of Waltham w-atchcs. We may fit ourselves with a broad-cloth suit of clothes in a store large enough to do credit lo Washington slreet. Here is the great wholesale liuuse of Walker Brothers, who are reported to be wortii half a milliou. Prints, by the cord, collou by the hundred bales, goods of every description are to be liad. Do you waut .1 draft on an Eastern citj', or on the Barings of Iiondon, here are brokers who will accommodate j'ou. Three hotels oiler accommodation to w-eary travelers.   One block distant is
down to c.xcelienTlare, and taUo a long sloop belween clean sheets after our five daj-s and nights iu Iho st:ig<i.
IIKTKOSPI'XTIVE.
Let US lay .Tside .ill prejudice, forget, if we can, that the inhabitants of this city and of this valley, are poiygamists, that we may see what virtues are theirs. In thesprlngoflSi? Brigham Young, with 113 pioneers, started from Missouri to find a place far from civilization, where the chnrch establislied by Josepli Smith might liave room for its full de- Telopmont. They arrived iu this valley on the Mth of July, the same j-car. They were one thousand miles trom the nearest Gentile. Beyoud them was the great uuexiilored desert, and still beyond w-as the Sierra Nevada, and be¬ yond that was California. Gold had not then been discovered, or if discov¬ ered the news had not reached the East¬ ern States. Amid the seclusion of the mountains, at fhe heart of the conti¬ nent, with room for expansion to Mexi- cooutheSouth, the Pacificon the West, the (rigid zone on the North, with the Eocky Mountains, whioh would be for¬ ever a barrier between them and those whom thoy deemed persecutors, the Saints determined to build a churcii and establish tlie Stato of Desoret, a religion and governineut both diverse and antagonistic to any existing eccle¬ siastical organization or republican order of Government.
It -ivas a forbidding prospect. Tliis was a verdureless valloy. Tiie wild ui'temesia which feeds on alkali was tlic ouly growth of the plains. Along the river there were a few willows. Up in the mountains there was lumber, and when tho spring rains came tliere wns grass on the hillsides, but the heals of July and August parched the ground, and baked it into solid cuke. Swarms of grasshoppers came from the saiuls and devoured all vegetation. But streams trickled from the mountain sides, apd the settlers suw that they could be turned to account for irriga¬ tion. l>it<;hes were dug, ])utal(iea plant¬ ed, bricks molded and baked in the sun, ciibins reared, a city laid out. Food became scarce, wolves, foxes, fish, sage roota, seeds of the mountain pine wero consumed. Tlie first grain crop was a failure. It was not more than si.x Inches lligb, and the grasslioppers devoured it. Many settlers became discouraged and returned to Missouri. Some died. Then came the rush of overland emi¬ grants to California. Tlie gold fever took away some of the settlers, but others camo to take their places. Those who remained had strong faitli and zeal.
They had covenanted nt Nativoo never to cease their eflbrts, nor relax their zeal, till every man, woman and child wlio wished to como aliould have the means of reaching Salt Lake. It was the great army of emigrants to Cal¬ iforuia iu '49 and '60, and subsequent years, that gavo them rapid advance¬ ment. Hero the emigrants rested, left money, purchased whatever the settlers had for sale. A missionary fund was established, and miasionaries went out in IffiO to England, Sweden, Norway and Denmark, and thousands of con¬ verts came trooping to this land.
A beehive was adopted as tlie emblem and symbol of tho church. We see it on tbo walls of houses, over the en¬ trance to stores, above the gateway leading to the grounds of Brigliam Young—a golden hive. It is the busi¬ ness of the Saiiila to fill it with honey. Work ia the duty enjoined by tho church,
Inforeign lanaalheperscculion whicii the Saints had suflered In Missouri was the stock in trade of the missionaries. Their mission was toltho iguorant. Christand the apostles wdropereecuted,! andsowere the latter day saints, ;for' righteousness sake. Byinpathy lent a willing e.ir.
The missionaries went to tho jioor,' the toiling, the hppeless. In this far olf valley tliere was no moneyed power to oppress them; no laws to grind them; down. Here was freedom, work.plenly ' comfort—a blessed future for Time, and in the bosom of the church bliea for eternity. They preached the new reve-; iatlon. God had not withheld coramu-, nicatlon to his children. Bevelatlou had not died ootwith the apostles, but It was BtiU continned through^ the ser^ -vnntof the Lord Jesus, tbat holy apos-l tie and head of the church on earth,' Brigham Young.: Come and. hear .thei tidings, be baptized for tho remission ofslns!   Accept the bliss 1 ¦   1
¦VraY THE CHUBCH  HAS -PBOSPEBED.'
,', js it. any woiider that -wliUng'ciaTa' aiid consenting hearts wore fdiiii(l:iirhenthe attractiveness, of .this iie\<^Zlen,"'wag preached to the poor:. .tbiUng-j'^^onant people of Old England a,nd EiitdpOf
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¦jmu£m:m'iM^.\
m 9,
England iit once became the grand re- crultingground. Thousands who wish¬ ed to emigrate to America found that the Chiirch of the Latter Day Saints had the machinery Of emigttttlon in operation—agents to help them',, steam¬ ships to carry them. The Church was ready to advaiice money to enable them to reach theland blessed of theJjord.'i .BeuefltsTor.thialifeaiidedieplalbies^- jingfor thelifetetelcDal weirb.atrong for¬ ces.   The Welsh miner.'Wlio bod grop-
lei &r yeaAjjffjOarknowlii'jthi
atfrUm !or-:^uglitn4V^£ercC)iiJgIi<;;'liraI^/pver^h^ own green acres.' - The mon of >Den mark iwho found it hard; work" to'keep, sdoil ,aud body together on tlio in!irsu<ia.:6f their native land, here could liud ^ase and comfortiii a genial clime; And If there wero men with strong passions: anywhere In the wido world, here, In lhe bosom of tho Church, they could religiously gratify all carnal desire'and serve Qod acceptably while so doing. They might become patriarchs under the now rcvelatiuoa and work out for themselves a far moro exceeding aud clerual weight of glory !
Beligious error is always as zealous, self-sacrificing aud denying as religi¬ ous truth. The zeal of Paul was as earn¬ est, vehement and sincere wheu he W.IS a persecutor as when an apostle. The Hindu wife, giving her body to be burned with the body of her husband, and tlie Mormon womeu, accepting marriage from a rami already counting his concubines by the score, alike ace moved by religious fanaticism. The woman stifles the instincts of the soul, accepts the repulsive, because it is more blessed to herself and of greater benefit to the Church, and more for the gloiy of God totake for ahusbauda man with many concubines, than to remain single.
Beligious zeal, superstition and fanat¬ icism have been strong elements toward building up this church. But the pros¬ perity of the community is duo to other eausea. It is an industrious community. Ils recruits havo been from thb classes accustomed to labor. The teachings of tho Mormon preachera arc that labor is acceptable to the Lord, that by labor tho new Zioii is to be established. Men are industrious here, as a general rule, but there are idlers hero as well as iu other lands. There are men who oversee tilings while their wives -work.
The isolation of the community—so far from the States—has contribnted greatly to its prosperity. This city has been the chief trading point betweeu St. Louis and San Francisco, supplying all the country between New Mexico and Oregon. Tho discovery of gold in California, followed by the discoveries in Colorado, then Nevada, Idaho, Mon¬ tana, theu in Wyoming, brought a rush of fortuue hunters. The long lines of emgirant trains over the plains all tend¬ ed in tills direction.
Emigrants, miners, traders, trappers, all h.ivo had this as their outliltlug point. Tiiero has been a steady influx of emigration—about fifty thousand per annum, from the old world—men and women, with a new life bofore them— hope, osiiirution, ambition awakened ixiiti tjuickcned.
It ia a community—a machine moved hj-strong forces, faith and zeal—andali its energies directed by one man, -with one object in view, lo build up the church. It is a despotism. Brigham Young, more than Louia of Franco, can say "lam the State!" One-tenth of all that a man recelvea duriug (the year —not his net receipts, but the gross— goes into the treasury of the church, nnd it goes out only uuder the direction of Brigliam Young.
Tiie prosperitj' is not due solely to in¬ dustry- and frugality, butcircuinstancea have all been favorable to tho accurau- laliou of wealth. The military expedi¬ tion aent out duriug PresidentBuchau- au's adininistrallon, al a cost of forty million dollara, inured to the beuefit of tlio church. The leu thousand troops —the great arm.y of camp follow-ers swelling the number lo seventeen thou¬ sand—jiahl ready mouey and the high¬ est ))riccs for eviu'j' article of provision the Mormons hud for sale. Up to that lime there waa a great seai-cil..y of iron, of wagons and carta in the 'I'erritorj', bul wlien the expedition was recalled an iiiimenso amonut of nialeriai waa left behiud, which the Mormons ob.
ment nfthe thousanils of emigrants all contributed to build up the cliureh. For u longtime IJrlghani Voung had tho governmenl nf the Territory in his hands. The TerriUir.v was organizeil ill 1S.">0. President Fillmore appointed Brigham Governor. Ho held the posi¬ tion until 1S.5S ; w:us aueceeded by Gov¬ ernor Cummings, who held the ofllce for three years, but upon his resigna- liou Brigham again came iulo iiower. Being himself the St.ite, owing no re- sponsibilitj', liaving all tlie revenues of the church at his disposal, obeyed iin- plicitly, accompanying circumstanceH favoring, religious fanaticism, ze.il and .sensuality, the highest and lowest of hu¬ man jiu-ssious brought into play, he and his people have transformed the desert to a fruitful valley, with the sound of labor breaking the long solitude of ages.
LAW AND OBDEB.
Every visitor upon entering the city, is struck not only by the evidence of prosperity, but with the order In the communitj'. It is order maintained by tlicocratic law, under the admijiistra- tion of tho church. Gambling is not allowed. AU drinking saloons are li¬ censed by the church. There aro four kept by Gentiles, whicii pay each $300 per mouth in advance, and one billiard saloon, which pays also SiiOO per monlh, making a total of $18,000 per annum paid iuto the treasury of the church from liquors and billiards. This is so much money from the pockets of Gen¬ tiles, for the church h.is its owu liquor store, and as the salnta are forbidden to trade with Geutllcs, inasmuch ua the church has no license to pay, Ihechurch li(luor store is exceedingly prolitable. The church enjoins temperance, bul does not require total ubstincnee. Men joining this church do not lose their taste for whisky, but, if tlie.v liapneu to get drunk, the cliurch justice will ex¬ tort a heavy flne, whicii goes into the church treasury. It is uot exactly sin¬ ful, but very unprofitable, to get drunk. The church maintains a rigid iiolieo —ordinary, special and ecclesiastical. The ordinar.y and apecial police are ap¬ pointed by" tho Alaj'or, Mr. Apostle Wells, Brigham Young's right hand man, chnseu by hiul lo ailministersec¬ ular aflaira. The policemen hold their ollice at the pleasure ofthe Mayor. The ecclesia.'jlical police are the bishops of the chuich. The city is divided iuto twenly wards, each under Ihesuperln- leiidenee of a bishop, who receives ills appolnliuent from IJrigham. ' Subordi¬ nate lo the bishop, .md appointed by them, are leacbera, who liave each a amall district. It ia their duty to keep track of all that takes place ; to know who comes, who goes. Thej' make fre- (tuent visits to every family, cuteehizo men, women and cliildren, not only upou doctrine and belief, but npou worldly matters. Their reiiorLs go lo Brigham.
IfaMorinnn is disaffected, or indul¬ ges in religious doiihlH, ho ia at ouce surrounded with dlfllculties. Mer¬ chants do uot care to trade with him. Ifa laborer, he will not be able to find empIoymeiiD. He must cast out hia doubts, accept unhesitaUngly the au¬ thority and dogma of tlio Church, and all will bo well. There is law and or¬ der in Purls uud iu Rome. Loufa Na¬ poleon haa hia secret police and so iias tlie Pope. Brigham, combining the systems af Fouclie, of the first Empire, and Ignatius Loyala, of lhe order of the Jcauitcs, has law and order In Utah. The theocratic state is a Iiavp ofmany strings, and Brigham's fingers sweep every wire, or it may be likened tu an organ—Brigham at the key-board and every pipe responsive lo his touch.
'I'UE Cll UBCir TELEOltArir.
He is laboring to make his power not only supreme but universal throughout the territory. Walk.iip this sido street and uotice the telegraph wires ra'dia- tlng from his privato olllce, connect¬ ing it with every hamlet in Utah—a line 500 miles long. Do the commer¬ cial interests of tlie people require a tel¬ egraph ? Are the Ignorant creatures who but a few montha ago were in the mines of Wales and the alleys of Eng¬ Usli cities novf engaged In business here sufllcient to demand a telegraph Une? It is uot an educated coinmunity, but ou theoontrary.one of the most Ignor¬ ant of civiUzed lands. Yet every; aetr liement:of lialf:a'do2en houses has a telegraph ofliee. In every-sdchi setUe- ment there is a bishop who ^receives his appolntmenf from "Brigham. -A tiorps of.iirls 'have'boeii"taiight: tele¬ graphy; throngh whom th'obishop may make instant report of ali that; takes 'place. 'From hisprivate offlce here in .Salt Lake City, Hke the watchman In ;the flee telegraph; .Brigham-inay give an orderor ring an alarm' from Idaho to New Mexico.- Cableton. I
,     ,..   ey/riot DO'a8,.flirip5r,-'as any other loving pair in the hoiit which
!_t:I__'.il.'_.^ 'A_   '  __,;   '-11 ^.'...'1.1   *!._ ¦-
WHAT KAKESA WOHAH' mVLY - A;KEEPKa¥T;t  ,  ¦¦
'In the firet place, love.' ,,'     '',
' Wlthoiitlove'as' a 'first liTanK.iiv'.WP/ platform,ther^ is,no uae, .whateverijih idiaoiustng Uie.oiiestion. JJIbeiplatrorm jwou't Iiold together without that plank;
rhatover otIier.Wnbeilhereibe in it.'' Butloveisnotenoiigh;''   '¦¦<'¦¦   ¦¦^'¦ I -'It'fcTOrjr^aad.'-bnt It'-b-trae—aiid^^ iw Irltoas true—tli»t ''love.won'thiiit^e-' fot ;",and-,What Is'Siirolft^'ltJ^roiin'piit
giivefthem to each other ain'ld the con- gratiiliitidns, of tlieir assembled frleiids? In those times miirryiug and giving in miirriage were very much the same as how. There was not. Indeed, the same accumulation of presents, ostentatiously exhibited and . admiringly examined: for then d yoiing lady could be married without imposing a tax on all her frieuds, or hiring plate and jewelry for tho occasion. The bridle costume, quite faultless in its time, was, I dare say, of a fashion uow old enough to be¬ come new agairf in tho next renaia- saiice. The bridegroom's coat, with a high rolUngcoUar, heavy with padding, Btiffened with bucksam, and shaped somewhat like a reversed horse-collar— though just the fashion thou—would shock a modern tailor, unless he should happen to find it In his latest" circu¬ lar.'' But all that makes the reality of a wedding—love, joy, vows, prayers, congratulations, kisses, weddiug-cako, and merriment—w-cre the same then as now. To tho "contracting parties" and their friends, assembled in the old dwelling where the bride was born, and where she had been wooed and wou by him to whom sho was fearlessly ou- truBtlng dll her w-elfare, that wedding, more thau forty j'ears ago, w.is as bright with enjoyment and with liope as wed¬ dings now ore in this List ycar^of A. Johnson's Presidency.
Yet, as it sometimes liappens, when all seems well at the bridal, that ni^r- ria^ was not in fact a liappy one. How soon the unhapjiiness began I iiever knew. Tho married pair aet up their housekeeping; and, for aught that came uuder my observation, they wore as happy in cacli other and iu their new home as any other young housekeepers. Sure I am that. If that house just fin¬ ished and just furnished, snug, but quite largo enough for two who ought to have been more to each other than all the world besides, waa not to ho lo the husband an attractive home, the defeat was not becanse of the wile's slackness in domestic duty—for she was of a stock that produced no slatternly or inellicient Iiouaewives. I was aware, indeed, that family worship would hardly be a thing of course under tlieir roof; but though a family, in which all duties and ufl'ections are not hallowed by daily worship is never so happy as it might be, the absence of religion does uot always make what we commonly call an unhappy homo. It was not till years afterward, when thoy had beeu for a long timo out of sight, having re¬ moved to a distAiit part of the country, that I began lo kuow Iho story ofthelr wedded life. The wifo came back to lier nallveplaee, and her own kindred, a desolate woman, but uot a widow. Her wedded life had become intoler¬ able, and sho was parted from her hua¬ baiul.
What had parted them? Not tho crimo which, under Christian law, jus¬ tifies tho putting asunder of those whom God had joined together. Not any freak of passionate jealousy, clmuglug ullec- lion into hatred. Nol the " incompati¬ bility" which ordinarily me.ins no more llian that oue of the parlies has grown weary of the other and basely desirous of forming a new connection. Nothing but the habitual intemper.ince of the husband. That ono word "intemper¬ ance," tells the story. Tho unhappy wife could no longer live with a hus¬ band who had ceased to protect, to sup¬ port, or to love her ; uud, as she h.id no children to ilic for, aho fieil from Uie man "who had already forsaken hor.
For her personal aafetj', for the secu¬ rity of her i-iglit to her own earnings, and tliat she might liuvo iudiaputuble possession of the little property which
i\7{ii^'i'"fiib'%lieF ti-v;ijjr°iir6''ik"ws i?
Conueclieiil liad provided in such eases. She sued out a divorce on the gruuiid of her husband's iulemperauce and dc- aerliou, uot alleging any other reason for her release fiom the bond of mar¬ riage. Thus she wua free again iu law ; and that she had a right lo the relief whicli the law gave her, I have no question. Whether she was free before God to contract auother marriage, waa au ethical and religious question for her own conscience and for her religious advisers—a question of coui-se, which might or miglit nol become practical, but which she hud theu no tiurlieular occasion to consider.
Her bitter experience in life bocanio, by God's blessing, a salutary discipline to her. Forsaken and desolate, ahe found in the frieiidahip of Christ a refuge from her great sorrow. She was thence¬ forth a wiser and liappler, woman, more thoughtful, and with a greater depth of allection in her being than when she "gave her hand with her heart in it"— a girl's light he.irt—to tho husband of her youth.
To him our atory returns. After the divorce, lie, ou his jiart, became a "re¬ formed" mull, for those wero the days when "the Washiugtoiiian niovemenl" was reforniiug the intemperate. I never knew wiiut tho process of refor¬ mation was in hia case. Perhapj resent¬ ment roused hini to the ellbrt. Perhaps he W.IS delcrniiued to convince himself and his fiiends, and particularly his divorced wife, that he was not so fur goue ua ho hud been supposed to be. Whatever the original impulse or the process, lie became a sober and Indus¬ trious man ; and, returnlug lo Connec¬ ticut, he fouud a respectable position and eniploj'incnt in a neighboring town. Belter habits iirnught him, after awhile, to better thouglits, his capabil¬ ities were awakened, and his moral re¬ formation was confirmed by a religious experience and profession. Yet some¬ thing reniained of a feeling as Ifhis wife hud wrongfully forauken him ; or, at lea.st, !is if she had sel an immovable b.iriier between them. Wh.it if lie had wronged her V Hud she not righted the wrong? Had not the baud of their union been dissolved by her?
Quite n.iturally, the talk of the village beg.in to connect his n.ime with that of a lady who was considered a good match for him.- Hia attentions seemed intnlligible enough ; and it was concluded thai; he was intending to con¬ tract another raarrlu.ge. Why not? His right to do so was recognized by thelaw of the State and hy the pubiie opinion that m.ikcs the law. He had placed hia name above reproach, .iud liis social po- alllon W.13 even better than before. But, just then, when ho had not j'et committed himself to a new engage¬ ment, he received a private and friendly adnionltion from the village pastor. " Think carefully what .you are doing. As a Christian man, you"are bouml by a higher law than the law of the State. Christ's law does not recognize tho di¬ vorce which the State has decreed be¬ tween you and the wifo of your youtli. It ia not lawful for you to marry any other woman."
Doubtless there was something start- liug in that communic.ition ; but ho survived it, and I am not informed that ho was displeased   with  his  pastor's plain-dealing.    "I'ho   result was, that eighteen years,  two months and  six difys .ifter tiie date of the wedding with which my story begins, I ofliclated at .mother uud a very diiTerent wedding. The partlcsl wore the s.inio, j'et riot the same.    Instead of a young briile and bridegroom, littlo acquainted with each otheror with themselves—hardly aware how weighty were the responsibilities -which they were taking upon them- selvQB—and quite unsuspicious of what their experience wiis to be—there stood before me a grave arid thoughtful pair, who wero, evidently,older and wiser than the young bride and bridegrobra at the former wedding, whoso minds had been chastened b.v painful experience, and who, with afuflkuowledgeof each other's Infirmities, yet with a religious confidence and cheerfulness,  were re¬ newing their vows of mutual affection and fidelity.. When I had iiivoked ou their reunlon.the. blessing of God, aud hadagalii,.In tbename of Christ and ot .the State, .declared them husband, and wife, my. feeling was, that :it was better thania.silver wedding, or a gold¬ en one ;¦ and-'r assured thomthafl had iiever administered the mdrriage covo- ridnt'with a'miii'e: gtratefiii'gatisfaetlon. : ¦ That,'.wii8,twefaty.yieatB,'agp,'aiid ^6w theyJare '^paifteil .'dgain.   Biit thaisee- oiiil .parting, ,VdSi iif. I love, and In the . h'ope,tliat. yet, agiiln.tliey are. ,to moeit where the<.perfected ohildrjen of God neither marry nor.are given -In mai- iage. . -: ¦::; in...-,  ,..,,..;]
tlidt fiitio the pot'which hld^kes'lt worih
Che boiling. ,
¦  A boiled pot -woiildn't ho very nice
eating without," fixiu's."
.   Tlie   beggar who made a delicious
soup, just by boiling a stone in his pot,
had to put iu a Ilttlo salt to season it,
and a bit of beef to give It a flavor, and
a few vegetables to tone it up.
So, if even love would " boll the pot," lovo would not bo sufllclent, unless It would fiU the pot, too.
Lovo Is a prime requisite to successful endeavor on a woman's part to be her husband's true helpmeet, but love alono Is very far from being all that is re¬ quired.
There are countless thousands of -wo¬ men who love their husbands truly, and who aro .no more helpmeets- to them than if thoy were wooden women, whittled out with a jack-knife.
The Urst and greatest misfortune wo¬ meu have to encounter is that, in mar¬ rying, most men don't ask themselves whether the object of their choice is fit¬ ted to bo a helpmeet. A man generally marries because ho wants somebody to love him and caress him. He also wants his wife to look iirelty, and be bright and cheerful, that other men may envy him his possession.
But that sort of thing won't last through the vicissitudes ofa life-time. When years roll on, and misfortunes come, and the silly little loying wife has become lirnily rooted In her dawd¬ ling habits, lio savagely turns on her and reproaches her for not beinga help¬ meet.
There is noihing but misery for her, poor creature, after that.
Therefore, the other plank in our plalform is tliis;
To be a true helpmeet to her husband
tho woman must have tho ability to
earn her living independently of him.
No woman can earn her owu liviug
by baby-tending.
I mean, of courao, by tendiug her own babies, if she adopt the prnfeaalon of a nurse, the case mu.y be diflereut.
Wlien you talk with inlellignt men on the subject of skilled labor, you find that they have but one opinion as lo the boat way of gettiug work done thor¬ oughly.
They tell you that the mau who i? a Jack-of-all-trades is a master of noue.
They lell you tbat the man who makes a great success in life is the man who masters one field of labor com¬ pletely—who educates himself.up to the Iiighest iioint of skiUfulness in that Held alouo.
The best editors in'tliis country are men who have been bred to their worlc in that college of editors—the printing olllce.
The worst editors aro those men who have taken up editorship after having given trial to mercautlle life, or farm¬ ing, or medicine, and who will moat probably drop editorship by-and-by for the law, or perhaps the stage—uud do as ill iu these agaiu, being thorough In none.
It stands to reason that the heat baby- tender must be the woman  who edu¬ cates heiself specially for that pui-auit. How   many   women   who   heconio mothers do this?
And of those woman who Inivc lient all their energies to perfect themselves iu the art of baby-tending, how many can earn llieir living hy il? II. I once lived in a house with a youug couple who had a b.iby of about ten months old—a great, fine, strapjiing fel¬ low, as heavy iu one's arms asa loud of iron, and yet uiuible to walk.
The father was a book-keeper In a store on Broadway, atasahiry ofthlrty dollars a week. They paid twentj'-two dollaraaweek for their board, which.
It... bnsb.iinl aaid was aa reasouablo ua he could linh tor a loiilu iw cuiiiiv7ii..w>l,
as the ono the.v occupied-though I considered it fur from comfortable. It was a small back room, dull aud cheer¬ less, on the third fioor.
Three times a day this delicate youug girl (the baby's mother) was obliged to curry tiiut strapping child up and down four pairs of stairs to meals—for the diuiiig-room was iu the basement. She never eould got»meal in peace, forshe had to hold the baby on her knees while she wils eating, and it would whine and cry, and half the time she had to leave the dining-room altogether while her great, hearty husband would sit still, and complacently bolt his meal with the utmost composure, never thinking of lier.
Tho baby was teething; and at break¬ fast she ofteu told us that she had been up and down nil night long walking the floor to soothe it..
She was as pule as a ghost, and had black rings around her cj-es that were enough to startle one.
liut they were so nowly married, and evidently loved each other so dearly, this couple, that I thought she was aa happy a woman as there was to be found in New York. And sho wus a woman occupying what is facetiously deuominated tho'true woman's sphere;' receiving every morsel of food from her husband, every stitch of clothing, nev¬ er hftving a penny she could call her owu, and iu return nursing her baby every minute from the day il was boru, Ihrough the .successive stages of limp- huekcdnesa until now, when it seemed —except that it could not walk—strong¬ er than its mother.
Ah,'J thought I, joyfully, " here Is a refutation ofall my arguments. Here Is a woman perfectly happy, and -ss'ho ia living in aerviludo and bubj'-lcnd- Ing!"
Ono day, after I had dono a hard day's work at writing, I aat down ut the din¬ ner Liblo opposite the couple, and said, " Oh, Mrs. X, how fortunate you are to huve a good husband, who provides foryou, and pays everything for you, relieving you of this horrid toil of work¬ iug for bread-money."
" That's what I leU her," said the husband, hastily, aud with .in un¬ pleasantly triumphant tono—"If .she had to go ont and work for her living she'd flnd out what it is."
" I cam my living now," said the wife, Willi quiet dignity. " I do a ser¬ vant's work, aud gel no jiay-only my board. A servant gels board uud wagea loo."
Tho next day she spoke to me again witli tears in her ej'es—
"I envy you," she said lo me, who considered rayaelf so hard worked as to be ill a very unenvlablo position—" I envy your being able to go out Into the air, and work like an inlelUgent being for a livelihood. Instead of being slinl up, day after day, night after night, nursing a baby. And look how foolish it is, too," continued she, unwittingly usiug my own argumenta; " I am a flue dressmaker, and earned my livingcasily by that work lieforo I was married. And so I could now, if my husband would only let mo work at my trade." " Why don't he?"
" In the first place, ho is too proud ; In the second, he says if I were to work I'd have to hire a girl to aurse the baby, and that would be au expense." "How much would a girl's wages be?"
" About two dollars a week. I used to earn eighteen at dressmaking in my native town in Mossachnsetts. X could earn more In New York. I'm a beauti¬ ful filler."
And yet this couple grubbed on In inuludl dissatisfaction, at tho very out-' setoftheir married life, when aU should have been brightness—lOvlngeach other too, but grumbling; discontented—sho reproaching him for makiug a servant of her, and he upbraiding her for uot being a helpmeet to him
, , III. .i , If it be lieceSaaryi in order.that a woraaii may bea helpmeet to her hus¬ band, that she should be aWp- to earn her own living, itheii' she' has but one thiiig to ddto qualify,' hefself for' that Amnu—nnniiilv   ii\ #>iTnhjit,A-tiPT«elf' I'uai
cjtre.of her babies. . She has dn experi¬ enced seirvant to do it; jtist as her hiis- bahd has iin-exptrlenced'schoolmoster to feaob tbem their lesaOnff." ' 'iWby ghoidd not women in the hum¬ bler/yvalks pf life bo granted tho same tmmuiilty', so that they,inay ho'left to. Ho better, hidris remunerative'work? • i i80m'e> of''the religions papers have b«eQ horrified, I hear^ by.-my :yiew0 on,
this subject.  ,	
' ,'rhey a^ horrlfled, because thoy dls- tort'niy imeaningi'   '
-Ifany ofa'esdyd to mo that it Is neces¬ sary to ^NECUiECT the culture of your childrou's heads and hearts, In order thai; yoii niay bo a helphieet to your husband, 1 reply that such an assertion as that is rubbish.
Give me your ear, you editor, who earn the bread of your family while your wife sits at home doing servant's work—do YOU neglect your lioy's mind and heart because you havo work to do out in tho world ?
I don't believe you.
I dou't believe, either, that it Is nec¬ essary your wife should neglect the real duties of a mother toward her children in order to earn her share of the yearly income which pays their nurses, tlieir servants and baby-tenders.
ifour wife becomes truly your help¬ meet wheu sho can carry ou your house¬ hold alone, were j'ou lo bo taken sick or to die, as well as i/ou could woro sho to be taken sick or to die.—Packard's Montiily.  	
noiTT Slop OTEE.
" Dou't slop over," tho old man saltl,
As Uo placed his hnud ou tbo j-outig man's
head; '* Gn It by all means, e:o It fast; Go It while leather and liorso-slioes last; Uo It whtlo hido and hair on horse Will hold togetlier.   Oh, go it, of conrso— Go it BH raiild as ever yon can, lint don't slop ovor, my dear young man.
" Don't slop otpr.   You'll flnd somo day Thatkeeplngan eyo to the windward will p.iy. A honso inay rnn a little too long, A preacher prciuih Just a fraction too strong, And a poet who pleases th' world Willi riij'iiies Atay write and regret it In after times. Koep the end oftbo eCTurt in view, Aud dou't slop over, wlmtover you do.
*' Dou't slop ovor.   The wisest men Aru bound to slop over uow and thGu ; And yet tlio -wisest at work nr feast Are tho very ones who blnnder the least. Those who for spilt milk novor wail Are tho onea who carry tbo steadiest pail. Wherever yon go, go In for the fat, But don'fsiop ovor—and freeze to that I
*' Don't slop ovor, distrust yourself, Nor always reacli t^ tiie highest shelf. Tbe next Ui tho hfgbeit will generaiiy 4n, Aiui .MiHwer tlie needs of such ns you. IJlInib, of course, bnt always stoi, And tiikebrealb aiittio tbis sideof Ibe top; And HO yon witl rcacb it in wind and strong, WltliiiuL..floiiiilngover.   Tlius euds my soug!"
A STOET FOE THE IITTIE FOIKS.
liCSIE'S QOLD PIECE.
Creeping up the white hills, the flrst red fiusli, deepening !is It roso higher and higher, and at last, caught on the point of a Ihouaand silver arrows, went llashlng away. Somo into chambers of wealth, where little children layusleep on pillows of down and under couuter-
Saiies of damask and lace. Others into omes of poverty, atrikins agninat tbo 'dark wall and slanting across hard beds and Into thin, weird faces, blue and pinched with waut and iniserj-.
"Come, Carl, il is lute;" uud Con¬ stance Weber pressed her pule lips to the boy's browu cheek. A tear fell on tho patched counterpane as Constance turned away. Carl had gone to bed tired and hungry, and now there was another day lo be endured. It had not always been thus; there was a lime when she could wiu enough to keep thom ; but now—and a sigh crept up to her lips, and Constance looped ii|) the faded ciirtuln, while u sliower of sun¬ beams filled the room with brightueia.
" it Is a nice morning; 1 wi.sli—" but Curl did nol finish. Conataiice stood there with the basket.
"it will not get much," oa she gave hilll a few small coin. Carl buttoned hia coat ovor the money, uud opened the door.
Mrs. Weber had uot always heen poor. She was a widow, anil revemea hud fol¬ lowed so closely, thut but for Constance shewouldhas-e sunk underthem. Carl was ten j'cars old, and possessed of a brave, manlyspirlt. Scanty though his faro and worn liis clothes, hes.iid iiotli- jiio- Wo. knew it wn.'* b'»''<i"i* f/,,. iii« tiiother auu ins sl.sicr to hear.
Carl Weher'a liunie was not Iho oiily oiie tlieautibeams en(<?red itii that bright .Decembermorning. Inanotheraection of tho ctty, a bhie-uyeil girl danced up and ilown the warm, cheerful apart¬ ment; her long, loo.-!e curia Iloaling around her neck with nameless grace and fa.scinatinn, her gleeful laugh like the muaic of silver bells.
"Chriatmaa ia coining! and the lots ofiiresentsi shall have.". The bitter, biting cold w-as nothing to her, and the suiibeuuis were such frequent visitors that she did not noth^e thein. " Christ¬ mas is coming!" and again the fairy laughed uud clapped ber hands.
" And my liltle girl is happy iu the anticipation ;" and Mr. Hurvey laid aside his paper.
" Yes, papa, and ray gold piece I'm to do with just as I please, won't it be nice?" Tlirough the half open door cime tho tinkle ofa bell. Mr. Harvey led Elsie iuto the breakfast-room.
" A merry to-nlgbt and a glad to-morrow. Is tbo Arab's euro for want and sorrow;"
ter for my husband,' as I ifeel it would have been for Constance, had ho con¬ tinued In his old faith " , ."Then you did not sympathize with him In bis change of creed ?" asked Mra. Harvey.
,'' How could I when I saw it brought, him Into trouble?"
i While Mra. Weber was speakfug, n fair-faced, flaxen-haired little -eirl pressed close to her side. .   :
"Dont cry, dear mother, God will take care of us. It was only lost ulKht sifter told mo how much Ho loves pimr friendless' people," arid tho tears were wiped from the mother's face.
" Would you liko to hear nie sing ?" asked the child, -with a sweet tiiiiidity that won Mrs. Harvey.
" r should liko very much lo hear you, my child."
"Sister can sing; papa taught her, and she taught mo. Carl can sing, too, wou't you, Carl?"
The boy had been perfectly silent. A look from his mother, and he stood by the side of Paulino.
A lover of music, aud no mean per¬ former, Mrs. Harvey waa spell-bound. Never before had sho listened to such music from children's voices, and alio quickly saw the capablllllcs of both if duly iuatructcd and cared for.
At dinner, as Mrs. Harvey w.is tell¬ ing'her husband of the circumstances of tho family, Elsie slipped from her chair and, whispering to her mother in a low touo ran up to her room and soon returned with n ten dollar gold piece.
"Ifl may spend this .is I choose, I will give it to Carl, pupa.
"Are you sure you would rather give it to Carl, my child'?"
" Yes, papa; I am quite snre; with you and mamma, it will be liajipy Christmas if we don't huvo presents; and Garland Pauline haven't any pa¬ pa. Will you give it to lilui to-uight, please."
" Yes, my child, and I will tell him it came from my litlie Elsie, and that she learned from the Bible that lo di¬ vide that she has with those that have less is well ideasing to Hlni who has promised to give us freely all things that we need. We aro not commanded to refrain from giving through four that our future will be clouded. Aa stewards for God, II will be unpardon¬ able if we knowingly neglect those of His children who may bo in want or In distress,"
That uight there was joj- in Jfia. Weber'a hoiiie. Mr. Harvej' had been there ; and there was hope In the moth¬ er's heart, and Carl's eye sparkled as hoJaidhls bead on Constance's knee and balanced Elsie's gilt in liia brown hand.
A year pa.ssed : in a levelj- cotLige we find Mrs. Weber; her face ia no longer pale and careworn, a cheerful light is in lier eye, and her heart is ut peace, 'i'he sweet luitli in whicli her husband died has become herown ; the Bible is no louger a sealed book ; she loves its pages, and ita promisea are de¬ light.
ijuuufcaiieo irt atill ateafthor, loved and appreciated by her pupils; while t'arl is at school, uud Pauline ia raijiilly im¬ proving in music.
Mr. Harvey's family has become foiiil- ly attached lo Mrs. Weber and her cliildren. Elaie ia one of ConsLince's pupils. The lil.itory of the gold piece IS often referred to ; while Curl looks buck to that cold December morning wlien for the firat time he receiveil charity.
"Aud all the time God w.is watch¬ ing over us. Isn't it aweet lo think the path wo lead ia of Hisown appoint¬ ing?" Talking and coiitr:ialing the past with the present; His goodness liasslng before them, uud drawing lliem still nearerin their love and gratitude. " It did seem strange, and I ofteu questioned," said Conshinee, "ifGod is good, why does He iiermit all this? I seo It din<;rently now. Hiul we not been dealt with in this maniie.- we sliould never have turned to Him ; ,wc should never have ILijlened lo the wm'ds, ' (^>nic unto me;' never gritspod the onlalretched hand."
Thus, In tho chain of God's provi¬ dence, a little thought in the heart of a child was the means not aloiic of jdacr Ing a family In comfdrtablo- circnni-
7,   "i"","' 'Tu "¦- winnlnir lliem lo love the blessed Saviour.
Itis j-c.ira siiicu thu incidents here related look place. Rfrs. Weber'a work is done. Constance and Pauline arc now knowii ns eminent musicians, while C.irl exhibits a genius iu tlieme- cbanisin and perfecting of musical iu- struments quite us wonderful.
There is no chance work in God's great plan; .ia the small wheel <ir the scarcely perceptible pivot could not be left out iu the successful operation ofa great macliine, .so tlie liltle links, ob¬ scure and unpretending as Ihey may be,' huve to do with ,tlio great life pattern we are each everjr day perfecting.—N. Y. Oliseritcr.
LSeAL   NOTICES.
ADJinilSTBATOR'B XOTICE.
fetate of Benjamin Bleacher,  latc of Druftoro township, dec'd.
LmTERS of^miolfttdtlnn on said estate hav¬ ing been granted ba tho audersigned, all ftersons indebted thereto are requested to make mmediato payment, nnd thoso.haviug claliu.t or demauds against tnosamo will present thrm without delayfor settlement to tlie undcrHlgii- *d, residing In B-'-" •¦¦-
JahO-'nlS
1 said townsbip.
AMOS -WADE, Administrator.
, ADHUTIS'TIMlTOB-B HOTICX:.
Estate of Harriet Sfive'r (widow), late   of Drumore twp., deo'd.
IlTITElts or oammistmlloa on said estato iliHvingbeeu granted to thoundersigni'il.ail Pei-iKms Indebted thereto are requested to maketmnieilintu payment, and those Iiaving claims ordemandsagalnst tho same-will pre- sciiltliein witiiont delay for settlement to tbo lindorslgii,.,! residing near Smithville, I'rovl- dence township
B. V. no WE, Adiuinisirator.
doc5-0t 3
AI>]Ii:<I,STtt\i<on.v NOTICE.
Estate of Johu 11. Shark, late of West
 Hempfield twp., Jocea-sed.
-J- I?rTKU,S of admlnistratl.m on said cstato J.J liaving been granted to tho nniierslgn»l. all peraons indebted thereto, aro tcfinested to make immediate payment and those having claimsor demnndsagaliist tbe same, will prul Benttheni witiioutdeiay for settlement to the undersigned, residing in said townslilp.
l.UUINDA SHEltK.
E.WANUEI, U. SIIKHK, dec23-6t*G Administrators.
AniHININTRATOU-.S NOTICE.
Estate of Magdulena Killheirer, lale of the city of Lancaster, dec'd.   ^
LErrEltS of .administration on said estate baving been gnmted to tho undersigned, all fiersons Indebteil thereto are requested tomake mmediate payment, and those having claims ordemands agaiust tliesame will present tbem without delay for settlemont to tbennderslgn¬ ed, residing fn l'::astllempfleid twp.
GlIllISTIAtI MUSiBELMAN, der23-(lt*8 Administrator.
AnmNISTKAT»R'l9 NOTICE.
EaLilo of Charles Hutchinson, dec'd.
I ETTEH.S of ndminlstration on said estate Jhavlng lieen granted to theniulersignett, ali pi'rsons iudebteii tiiereto are reqnested to make iminediate settlement.and those having claims or deinands against tbe snme will present Ibem withont ileioy for settlement lo tbo nnderslgned. JUHN tlTltUHM,
dec^.iit-7 Administrator.
EXECUTOILS' NOTICE.
Rstato of Abruin Bracht, late of Conoy township, deceased.
1 ETTERS testamentary on .said estate 1 havlnglbeen gianted to tlie nnderslgneri.ail persons indebted thereto, are requestetl to nialce iinincdlate payment,and those baving claims or demands against the same, wili pre¬ sent tlieiii witiiont delay forsettlement to the niidei-sigiicd, residing In suid tu-p.. In Ilaln- liridge. JACOi! F, BEECHEIl,
llAN.-^AH IIAI.I,, dec ;W-Ot-f» E.-cecutor.s.
EXECUTORS' NOTICE.
Estate OfHenry Binkley, lute of Man¬ heim twp., dec'd. IErTElt.S testamentary on said estate bav- jlng been granted to the undersigned, ail fiersons indebted thereto are reqUL-s ted to nialto lunieillate   settlement,   and   tliose   having elaims ordemandsagalnst thesame, will i>re- selit tiiem witliout delay to tbe uiidersigiicdl DAVID L. MILLER,
Alanbelm twii , S.VJIUEL BINKLE-i-, Manor twp., docIfi-flt*5 Execators.
E.VECIITOR'S NOTICE.
Estate of John Woerlli, late of West Ijampeter township, dec'd.
I ETTERS'reslamentaryon said csUite h.iv- jiiig been granted to tlie nndersigneil, nil fiersons indebteil tlierelo are requested lo niaito mmediate pa^'iuent, and tiiose iiaving claims or ilemands against the s.anio will present tbeni witiioutdeiay forsettlement to the un¬ dersigned, residing in said town.sliip.
DA VXD IjAN DIS, (.Miller.) dec a;-(ittO Executor.
F,XEC0TOR.S' NOTICE.
Estate of Samuel M. Witmer; Lite of Ciornarvon tW])., deceased.
JETrKltStcsUimentary on said eslate bav- j ing been granted lo tbe undersigned, all liersoiisindeiited tberetoartireqnesledtoinnko I Mimed l.-iteset.tlenienl.and those havingclalms .irdemandsngaiiisttliesanie wili iiresetittiiem forsettienient to tile ninlersigui-il, residing In said lownsliip. I.VUIA WITMElt.
UVitus K. WITMER, ilec.l-BtM ^     Execulors
'    Ari>ITOIt-.S NOTICE.
.¦\BBlgiied Jilstate of David Wald and
Wife. rilllE undersigned Audiior, apimlnted lo dis- i. Iribnio Iiie baianee t'eitiaining in tin:bands OfMartln WIngei-,assiKneeof David Waidand wife, lo and among tiiose legally entitled lo tbo same, wiil atlend for lhat nurpose. on SATUItii.W, Ihecitb day of I'-EBRUARY, A. 1>., 1SI31, at the pubiie lioiLse of Johns. wUiner, in the village of Vogauvllle. l^ri twp., wbere all persons Inleresteil in said diBtribulion may itleuil. JOIIN U. MARTIN,
JanJMt-R Aniillnr.
.«WUf4JNEI^*H NOTICE.
Assigned Ealate of Joseph F. Herr and
w-ife, of West I.ampeter townshi|>,
Lancaater county.
-j (l.SEI'il p. lIERKand wifeof West Ijinijieler
.}  tou-nsliip, iiaving by deed of voluntary as-
Kignment, dated Deeemlier Stil, 1.S1K, assigneil
and transferred all their estate and elTecls to
the undersigned,lor Uic beneilt of tbe creditors
of tbe said Josepli P. Ilerr, lie tlierefore gives
notice to all persons Indebted to said assignor,
lo malte payment lo tbe undersigned witbont
delay, uud tiiose liavingclalinsto present theni
to BENJ. P. IU IWE, Assignee,
de .'W-fit-7 Residing in Providence twp.
BEEVITIES.
aud Charley hung np his skates and took his place at the table. A blessing asked, Mr. Harvey sipped his coffee, while ;i troubled expression crept over hia face. Turning to his wife, he said, " I suw a sight this morning that made me feel sad. A poor little boy, half clud and shivering with cold, oul with his basket for clilpa and coals. All around him hapjiy children wero shout¬ ing, 'Chri.st.'ias is coining! Christmas is coming!' ' Bnt not for us,' be mut¬ tered. Thero was such a .teuder plead¬ iug look in his eyes, I slopped. " ' Wliy not for you, my boy V' " ' We are too poor.' "Shivering and blue, I could ouly ask his name and wliere he lived, ami told lllm lo carry home his coal and re¬ lurn and I would lill his biLskel with aoincthiiig else."
i<;iale liuished her breakfast and stood beside her futlier, her greut, won¬ dering eyes full of sympathy.
" There's a small boy wants tn see Mr. Hurvey," and Jane opened the hall door.
"Give him a seat by the fire," said Mr. Harvey, and he fllled a plate from the bountiful supply before him. " May 1 carry ll to Iiim, papa?" " If you plcise; and when he has flnlshed hia breakfast you may bring hira ill. I am interested and would kuow moro about him."
" Ho auj'a hu would rather take it home, ifyou please, papa," and Elsie'a face waa eloquent.
"Tell him to eat his breakfast, hia basket shall be well lilled," returnetl Mr. Harvej'.
Entreaties were vain, Carl could not eat; and filling liia basket ho almost ran ont of the gale, ao eager was he to reacli his cheerless home.
liiltlc aa they knew of his home and short as his stor.y, Carl Weber found friends in Mr. Harvey's family; and cold and stinging aa it wua, Mrs. Har¬ vey started out wilh the intention of calling on Mra. Weber and Constance. The snow flukes were tossing wildly, aud the driving wind iiiude it almost imposaiblo to proceed; bnt the thought of C.irl'saad faco ond the comfortlesa room iu which aho kuew he lived urg¬ ed her ouward.
It wus a dlugy looklngpluce lu a nar¬ row street. Carl met her at the door. " My mother will be glad to see you ; but Constanco has gone to her lessons." Mrs. Harvey followed through a long hall and up the dark .stairs to the fourth floor. It was a large, hare room, neat and tidy, but lacking all the coraforLs of a home. Mrs. Weber was a pule, slight woman, scarcely middle aged, her figure stooping, and with mi ex¬ pression on her face that comes only l« one through the gates of suflering.
Mr. Weber h.id been an organist In one ofthe Catholic cliurches In the clly; through the Infiuence of a friend, ho attonded the evening meetings in a Proteatant churoh, and at once became iiiterested in seeking the salvation of his soul. For this he lost hia position. His health had been delicate foraouio mouths, and now thero were evident symptoms of disease. A cough set In, be grew weak and'feverish, and before long he -was confined to his room en¬ tirely. ¦ Deprived of his salary, his U»tle means were, soon exhausted.   Itidhls
oiHee-TnaiiielJ'',, ^ cd[ii(!ate herself just (IS men cfo Iu the'hiiblts of labbr;-
Skill in mechanism, finances,'; art^ literature, or nUy iindustrlol calling;:lB nothing more oioriless than habits of labor. ¦¦¦¦¦'¦ '¦ ¦•". i '. ii-:': '¦¦¦¦   ¦¦¦'.  i . ¦¦ :,
When men will coiisent. to.do ^rld,- get's-«-ork then I will. 1
¦ •Till-theni'UohH-.talk ;Jto me-'abput hoUseke^lhg ¦•and- 'baby-tendliig : ias wonian'sprbperemployment,' ' ¦   ¦-'• :
Itistbe proper.employmcnt of .women who are incapable of higher \srork,.,.;
No-ii»shionable,,ltidyr-no. ,wife of ft   _„ „.        .„ ^.„„, ^ „.„.„
weaUhy oiUzen-ra,Sefmohti. .a, ^Boose-rhj^ succeeded ihobtaiiiing a few
emergency, Constiinco' began t/give lessons,;, but the new faith tU'at sus¬ tained herfiither'liddbeeomeberB., She was a Christian: old friend? Hed, with difScnlty'^he obtained ptiptb; and" these from a cl^i that cou Id aflTord but it sniaU compensation.. i.
"It is :flve months since'my hu»- Imnd's death," said Mrs. Wetier, aha by chiinglng oiir location, Constancie
"Are these calico horses painted?" uskcil au iiuiulsllivc lad.v ut a circus, reeeutly. " Ay," replied the clown ; "thoy aro grained every night and morniug."
" I have just met j-our old acquaint¬ ance, Daley," said an Irishman to his friend, " and was sorry to see ho has almost shrunk away lo nolblng. You are thin, and I am thin ; bul he is Ihiu- nor thau both of us put together."
An Adams yonng latly iu couversa¬ tion with afriend, thusenthuaia-stically praised a clergyman: " He is a jierfect gentleman; he parts his hair in the middle; talks Ilorse, and plays billiards bcantifully."
The Valparaiso (fud.) Rejjublio tells of a young couple married on Satunlay niglit, who, on Sabbath evening, were made happy (or otherwise) by the birth offive children, fourof whom are liv¬ ing aud doing well.
A Weslern paper gives Itself the fol¬ lowing plejusuiit obituary notiee on Thuiikagivlng day : " No paper will be issued from thia ollice to-morrow— nor aiij' other daj'." The Slierlirs ofll¬ cers were around.
A benziuist in Albany mistook an undertaker's shop for a restaurant the other night, wolJe up the ofliee boy, and denianiied " a dozeii fresh onea on the half shell." He wius told thatthe cstabllsbu'ent did not furnish food for the living, but cofllns for the de.'ul. " All right," he replied in muddled tones, " I'll take a little cnllee."
" aiy sou," said the veteran at the foot of the stairs, " arise .md see the iiewlj' risen lunilnarj' of day, and he.ir the sweet birds singing their iiialin song of praise to their great Creator ; e,omu while tlie dew is on the grass and tender lambs are bleating on the hillside— come, I s.iy, or I'll be up there with a switch and give you the ciisaeile.iit lick¬ ing that you ever hud!"
" Friend Mulluby, I ara pleased that thee has got auch a line organ in thy church." " Bul," said the clergj-muii, "I thought J'on were strongly oppiwed to having an organ in a churcli *} •' So I am," said FriendUbadiuh, "but then if thee will woi-abip the Ijord with ma¬ chinery, I would like Ihee lo have a llrstrute Instrnmeiit."
A country apothecary, not a liille^ dlstlnguLshcd for hia imptideiice, in tll< hope of disconcerting a youug ulerxi'- niaii Avhoiii he knew to he a mau of*iin- gular modeaty, tiakeil him in thq/liear- iiig of u large companj' ut a piiKlic ils- acmbly: "Why did the Pati^archa of old live to such an extrein/uge'?" I suppo.se the ancient Putriu/iha look «o phijsic!" /
A lady in Boston, who was about giv¬ ing a party lo the mo^ihers of the Pm- tealant Episcopal Hinveiition, sent for Air. S—, caterer to U-ssial in the piep- urulioiia. He askeil If alio intendeil to give a d.'ineingfmrty; .She replied that it was lo be i«ai nly com posed nf elergy-i men. "In (fiatciLse, mudame,"aaid he, I " I wouldadvlse you lo proviile bounti¬ fully.   '}liem jiioiis eats dreadful!"
A pious old clergyman, whilo weiid- iu.r KiB way to his cliurcli ou Sunday morning, cuughtaight of two soi)30f one t/liispurlshonera going into the wood.s, evidently for the purpose of: hunting. FeeUng certain that anything like di¬ rect remonstrance with the young gen¬ tlemen themeelves would scarcely tui'n them from their ways he -waited until after "pre.iching,".and sought the old genlleman; -their-fother.- Afler re¬ counting the circumstances of meeting Billy and Sammy; as. he had done, be closed an aiBjcting.anpeal by inquiring of their fiither why. they had not been "broil^ht'iip ih the'ffeiir of the Lord?''
" Fear ofthe Xiord, parson—fear of the Lord!   Whyj-theyiievi-They're so
feard^of him now they dassent go out
AlIOITOirS NOTICE
.Vsslgned Estate of Samuel W. Wanner,
of Warwick twp., Ijunc. co. rpHK undersigned Audiior,appointed lodis- X tribute the balanco remaining in lbe iiands of Jacob I,. Erb, assignee of Samuel \V. Wan¬ ner, to ami among tliose legally entitleil lotbe same, wiiiattend for tiiat purpose ou PRIDAY, tlie 22d day of JANDAIIY. IsdO, at 10 oeloek, a. in., in liie Library. Room of tbe t'ourt liouse, in tile City of Laueaster, whereall j-er- sinis interested iu said distribution mny at¬ tend. JACOB KE.MI'Elt, dee gl-Jt C Audllor.
NOTICE.
John Cmeney      -) Of Janoary Term, I.'iCC.
V.S. y No.7.
MAUY CAKXEY.    ) Summons iu Divorce.
r
MW. Defendant -will lake notiee that deposi- ^ lions will bo taken on the iiart of plulntiu; heforo J.W.Johnson, esq.. Commissioner, at blsonlee. In South (inccn St.,Xanpnster clly, on SATURDAY, the ffld day of JANUARY, ISUU, between tbe hoiii-s of 10 o'ciocit, a. in., and U o'clock, p. m., ofsald day.
dce'.£l-ltii Atlornoy for Plalntiir.
NOTICE IN B.iNKBlIPTCY.
IN THE DLSTRUrrcOlIilTOPTIfEUNITED .¦STATES. EASTERN DISTRICT OP PENN¬ SYLVANIA.
alLiVS WEILER, orcicrnarvon twp.,rj»n. eo., insald District, bankrnpl, haviug pctitlonea for htsdlscbarge.amee ling oftheereditors will beheld onTIIIIR.SDAY, Uie lltlidayofJANU- ARV,lS(a, at 10o'oioek,A.M.,beii)re Register A. Slaymalier, at No. 0 South tiueen street. In tbe City OfLancaster, Unit lbe examinntion of llio llaiikrnpt may be llnl.sbed. The llcgLs- ler win certify whellior tiio bankrupt has ron- rormod.l^> bisduti'. „
A liearing wlilaisoboh.ad on WEDNF.SDAY JANUAUY 27111, iSllll.at Hlo'eliHk,3.ni..beforo tbe Court at Pbiladelphia, when parties Inter¬ esled may show cause against Ibe discharge. ll..a 1   Witness tbo Uon. Jliil.V CAUWALA- DER, Judgo of thesalil Distriet Cou rt,and tbe .seal tberoof, at I'hlbideipbla.lbo'ilth dny of Deeemlier, A. U. I«K.„„_ „,    , O. II. I' OX, Clerk. Attest: A. .Sr..\VM.l KKR, Keglsler. dee :lll  317
COURT PROCfcAM.VTION.
WirF.nK.vs. the Honorable TTENRY'O.LONtr, President, ami lionorablo Al.EX.V3inEa L. IUVKSanilJoilN J. Liuu.iliT.As.soeIate Judges of llie Court of Common Pleas in and for the Oiuliiy of I.aiicaster, and As.slstanl Justices of Ihl! C.iin-la of Oyer anil Terminer and General Jail Delivery and (Juarter Sessions of the I'eaeo In and for the County orijuleaaler, bavo Is- sucil tliclr Precept, to me directed, reanlring me.aniongother things, u> make pulilie Proela- matiim tliroughout my balllwli'k, tliatnCnnrt of Oyer and'Vermlnornnd a geueral Jail delive¬ ry, also a Court ot Ocncrnl tiuarter Sessions ol tbe Peace anil .Tail delivery, will coinmence in Ibe Court Honse in theCltyof I.ineaslcr,lntlie Comnionw euItlL of Pennsylvania— ON THE THIRD MONDAY IN JANUARY,
(TIIE ISTU), IMP. In pursuance of which precept Poblic Notick isllKKKUVGiVKN to UlO Mayor and .Vldermen of the City of Laneaster, In tlio said ('.ounty, and all tbo Justici'.Kor the Pc:u;e, the Cormier and I onslubiecof Ihe said Clly and Connly of I jineaster, tllfft tliey be llicn and there in their own iiroperpersoiis Willi liieir rolls, records and i!.-caniinations, and Innulsltlons, and their other reinembrauces, lodo thiwe things whieii to tlielroiUcesappertiUn, In liieir lielialfto bo iloiipyand also all tlioso wlio will prosecnto a-albsttlle prisonerswhoare.iir Iben sliall bo inthe jail of the said Counly of ijineaster aro Irt be ihen and there to proseente asainst tliem 'iLssliail iiojust. ,_ ,
1 lated al 1 .aneaster, tbe =--'.1 daj" •;(."Jf omber, ISilS JAI.-Oli P. J'llEi.Blierlir.
dJia; .^ Ifl"
A rltOCI.AMATION.
MAYOIt'S OFFrOR,     -I
Lajtcastkr, Dec 'H, Isiw. j
WIlI.;i:|.:.vs, It has been represenled In nie by a nuniber of eitizens that, within tbo last two or tbree days, several Dogs, supposed Io be rabid, bave been seen witbin the limlLs I.f I be elty, and other Dogs are known to have bci'ii lillteii.by tiiein; and, as tlie safety ofour 'eltlZ'-ns reiinlri'S tbat prompt aud elUclciit nieasures should be taken In the premises by way of prceantlon ; Tllis is, tbereftu-cN to give tiiiblienotice llml, from nnd arter T0-3iOR- ItOW, THE 'ild INHT., mttl/ur Ihirlti daw lltiTC- i//(er,:illownersof Dogs, within tiie city limits, are eiijolneil to have them eitlier nroperly mns'.zleii oreonllneil In some secure place, ae¬ eording III the provisions of the Ordinance. And tin: roiiee ollieers aro reiiulred to bo vigi¬ lant III Iho euforceiueiit of lhe laws on the Sll!.jee,t. OEO. SANDEItSO.V,
deeai-5t-0 JIayor.
JIONl'IS UOU.SK,
II A R n I S B U B Cl ,
PENNS^-LVANIA.
inllE undersigned Imvlng leased tbo abovo i popular and well known Honso, wlilcli bas been tliorougliiy repaired and greatly im¬ proved, as well ns entirely refurnished tbrougbdnt with elegant new furnltnre, lu- elndlngall tbe appointments of a flrst-elsss Uotel, will be ready for tho reception of guesis, on and uftbr the 15tb of November, ISOS.
 „. ..,..       ,    , ~, . = .r-r .Sunday:.Without,doublerbar'Pd shot-
velt, a Ste^yart-rdeyotes her,tMnetotJi,e 11 (»n bnt think it woiddM
nov 7-8m-fil]
THOSIAB PARLEY,
Proprietor.
OAXS I        OATSII        OAXS II
-JUST RECEI-VED FROM THE WEST
"OOO BCBIIEI.S PiaaiE OATS,
OBORQE D. SPRECPBR'B Seed Store, East King atieet,
tl
oct7-8m-47
I.anMster, F Jli