Lancaster Examiner and Herald

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bliahel anrr WfiDHSSDAY. bt tha -JOKEHTIIiaDIHO, JTo. 4 Horth'Qa>«ii| ^^'. Street; Lnnoaiter, Pa   '
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' 4^0. A. KISSTA273>. E. 21. K1.1SE,J. J. HARTJui.
Editors and PxopdetOra ,
HAKE HOHE BEIOHI AND PLEASAUT.
More than bnlliUng .shows- mansions, ' More than dress and flne array, More than station, power, or pomp,
Ts'liapplncss by night and day. Malie yonr home hoth neat and tasteful.
Bright nnd pleaR.int, always fair, Where each heart shall re.st contenletl.
Grateful for'cacll heauty tliere.
More than loft.v-swelllng tides,
More than fashion's lurid glare. Moro than mammon's golden lionors.
More than thoughts can weil coinirare- Sco that homo is matie attractive.
By .«urroundlnp.s puro nud bright; Trees arranged with taste and order.
Flowers willi .nil their .sweet delight.
Seelc io malce .vour home most lovely,
Let It 1)0a.smiling spot Where In siveet contentment resting.
Care and sorrow are forgot; Where the flowers nnd trees are waving.
nirds wtll sing their sweetest songs; Wliere the pure^ thoughts wlil linger,
Coniidence anil love lielongs.
There, cacli heart will rest content!
Seldom wishing far lo roam; Or If roaming, still wUlchcrlsh
Memories of tiiat ciu>rishcd home. Such a lionio iiiake.-^ man the better;
l»nreanil hulling ils control— Home, witll pure and brigiit surroundings,
Leaves i:s iniprcs..* on the soul.
in mjr estimation. I ,tra& obliged to seem contented; I liad changed my mind again, but it was too ]ate. I rer mem^I could.not sleep -that^night; and nt last I decided on telling Bobert, and seeing if I conld liot efliot another;
,batt^, bnt Robert wvinexoiaWe, and    ..      .,^ „   .. _.      ...
'HHmes 14an't wlah tp repeat^, lendant on my pioieBBion: nl^ir'life.«
nl.
THE  UNDECIDED  GENTLEMAN'S STORY.
I am about to tlirow juysflf on tho mercy of the piiblif, hy laying before them a sliort sketch of luy ]i.iBt life. I did not mean to tlo so, and even now I am iineertnin as to the wisdom of try¬ ing to create a .synipathy among the mass. I have been some years making up my mind, or ratlier deciding or un- iilecidingit; but now tliat I have deci¬ ded, r think I sliall on tlie wlioIe be glatl.
lam notaphihmthropist; I do not expeet my story to change tlie course of human nature, by altering especial pe¬ culiarities. I don't assume to be an ex- am])lf, but I lay humble claims to merit as a warning, and sis such I reveal the rock on which I have split.
From tho time I could lirst remember and follow the liglited candlo with ad¬ miring bahy eyes, I have never been able lo make up my mind dertnitely about auy onc single event, and tho tor¬ tures I have sufl'ered in consequence no pen could possibly describe. From whom I may have inherited this pecu¬ liarity I don'tknow; certainly not from my parents; for ray father had a strong will, with au unbending firmness of purpose and decision of ehar.icter whieii displayed them.selves eveu iu the me¬ rest trifles; and my mother w.is not wanting in decision, for, soon after her marriage, she, like a (rue woman, lost all identity in her lord and master, .showing by that act that she had at least made up iter mind to something definite if inevitable, and .she yielded honor.ibly on all occasions.
I w.as one of a iai-gc family, and un¬ fortunately the eldest. My brothers were all high-spirited, determined lads, who tried on all occasions to strengthen their own rights in any way tliat seem¬ ed most likely to succeed, so that the viicillations of my mind made mc an ea.sy prey to every description of tyran¬ ny. In large families;, or indeed large communities of any kind, a certain strengtli of character will always make itself felt, and the individual iiossessing it be respected, whilst tlie reverse will be despised or ridiculed, .as the case may be. I think during the earlier portion of 103- life I sufTered roost from the for¬ mer. How my brothers chafTcd mc! I<early everything they 'said was pre- -fieed by, " If you have uot changed your mind. Con," or " Had you not bet¬ ter consider before you speak, or toss, so as to bc quite sure'.'" Yes, then it was I never did feel (piite sure about any¬ thing, and I recollect well the tortures I sufTered iu consetpience.
To go quite hack to my earliest re¬ membrance of the flrst dawn of roy pe¬ culiar weakness, I find myself in the nursery of our largo, old-fashioned country house iu AVarwiekshire. AVe were all of us in a considerable state of e.icitement, consequent on the visit of an old uncle, a bachelor, who was re¬ ported to have more lacs of rupees than other people had shillings. Of course we e.'vpected to benefit by such a visitor; nor were we disappointed. On the af- terntion in question a message came to the nur.sery that our presence was de¬ sired in the dining room, aud that we were to be dressed in our best for the ^ccasion. How well I remember the little dark-blue cloth .surtout, fastened i n round the waist by a belt and silver buckle, wliich I and my next brothers, Kobert and Edmund, wore, and the blue sashes of my twin sisters, down td the embroidered frock and reil shoes of baby. Of course, as the eUlest, I weut first; and, of couise, on reaching the dining room door, I could not make up roy mind to go in ; so I lingered for a while; bnt lyuch-laiv was administered from behind by Kobert, and my en¬ trance was more abrupt than graceful; but, as Iwas theu only a little boy, it was overlooked.
My uncle kissed us all round; com¬ mented on our appearance, and like¬ wise on our resemblance lo various (to us unknown) members of our family, and flnally brought out before our ad¬ miring eyes a large parcel, which he ^ undid, cutting the string with a little gold-mounted penknife.
"Xow, Coningsby," said he, as lie displayed a nuinber of things, "j'ou are the eldest, so you must takcyour choice; Robert the ne.xt, and so on."
The difflculties presented themselves to,my mind at once. I hesitated,—wa¬ vered. Tliere were two articles that al¬ most equally took my faucy. One was a sword, the otiier a gun. AVhiclievor I did not lake, Kobert would. Of that I felt sure; and to make up my mind whicli I would decide upon perplexed me sorely. At one moment I fancied that Kobert's eye would rest lovingly on the gun, which had imitation silver mountings, and would fire anything, short of jMiwdcr and shot, and I felt quite deeided to takest; the next mo- ^ ment,and he had unsheathed the sword, and I felt that it was impossible to re¬ linquish such a treasure.
My uncle waited long and patiently, but at last he suggested that I should make up my mind. I laid my hand on the gun; I half drew it towards me; tlien I put it back, and did the same by the sword, and then I went back to the gun again.
"You liave made your choice," said my uncle, quickly, "and now 't is Bo- bcrt's turn."
Robert seized the sword, and buckled it round h Is waist. I would have given worlds then had it beeu mine, and the, gun his. I think amidst my thanks my uncle detected this, for he aald " You took whicU you liked best, did you not, my boy 1"
I hung my head;  and Robert,'who
¦was as generous as be was vindictive,
took-.^ff the sword, and handing it to
me, bfffered instantly to change.    The
*    moment he bad-done so, the gun rose
Btnttng
chance, and thatif he ;did;give me baok the giin, Ishould only cry for the sword back again next day. I felt crestfallen, but not convinced; it has taken years to bring roe to a sad kuowledge of the sad truth thnt I am to he lurned by every straw,
The remainder of my boyhood was marked by other incidents very similar to the one I have narrated. I was sent ¦to school. I never knew whetlier I preferred marbles or peg-top, hockey or cricket; and a pastrycook's shop be¬ wildered rae more than anything. With sixpenee to spend, and a hundred dain¬ ty things before me, I became siniply an object of pity. I would timidly laj-^, my hand upou atart, aud then my eyes would wander to something else, nnd I would look at that, and then return and look again at tlie tart, finally selecting a dainty, and eating it, yet repent ofmy choice all the while.'
At college it was just the same,—In fact it was worse, for I was more roy own master. I could never decide whether I should take to the oar, or read for honors: whom I should select for friends, aud which of them I should invite to my wine-parties; where I should spend my vacations, what tailor I should employ, and a thousand other trifles that make up the sum of life. However, no matter how much I weigh¬ ed the matter, whatever 1 did, I always wished I had done the opposite; and in this state of mind I weut home, aud de¬ cided on a profession,—I say decided, but I don't mean it. My father called me into his study one morning, and thus addressed roe :—
" If I had not been blessed with ten ehildren, Con, I might have made an elder son of you ; but I don't see now how I cau. You must do as your broth¬ ers have done, and go into some pro¬ fession. I have given you a college education, and now I give you a week to consider what you would prefer, an il Ishall make it my duty to help you carry ont your wishes, whether for the Church, army, or the bar, as far as lies within my power."
I thanked him, and retired to reflect. I reflected for all that week, but came lo no decision. One day I had almost determined on the Church, the next day on the bar; then some chance re¬ mark would unsettle my mind again. I would have given the Avorld to feel a strong, unbiassed inclination in some defined direction; but those inclinations seemed reserved for my brothers. Eobert was a sailor, and enthusiastic about his profession; whilst Edmund would hear of nothing bnt becoming a merchant. Even baby, the moment he abandoned his red slices, asserted his intention of keeping a public-house, and driving his own coach.
Luckily, when we are not strougl enough to settle for ourselves, some one! generally is to be found who will do it for us, and ray future destiny was taken out of my hands vi ct arinis. One of roy college friends had just entered the array, and during ray deliberation we chanced to meet. I asked him to come into AVarwickshire for a few days to talk over my prospects, and give me the benefit of his advice. I had no actual intention of taking it, but the result turned out otherwise.
Rupert Leigh was a young mnn of strong will and enthusiastic temper¬ ament, and was gifted with thegreatest of all powers, persuasive eloquence. He laid before me, as we sat idly smoking in my particular den, the most glowing pictures ofa soldier life.
" Of course," said he, " you could not do anything else but go into the array, and, if possible, into ray regiment. Ev¬ ery other profession is quite unfit for you, aud you are unfit for any olher profession."
I partly yielded, or rather I felt al¬ most tempted; and, before he left, I had under his advice Intimated mj' views to my father, and so I became a victim. I say a victim, for uo sooner did I wake to fiud myself really gazet¬ ted into the 104th, which was Rupert Leigh's regiment, than I bitterly re¬ pented my choice. It had all been done ina hurry, and now it was too late. — My uniform was ordered; I was be¬ sieged with circulars from oufttters, and the day when 1 was to join my regi¬ ment had been signified by an order from tlie Horse Guards.
My father gave me his blessing, a tol¬ erably handsome order on Cox & Co., and some good advice. My mother cried over me, and my sisters packed my boxes: my youngest brother, Fred, gave me his retriever-pup, and little Constance knitted me a pair of muffet- tees, with her own fat fingers; and so, amid such family consolation, I left bome and went into the world.
The regiment was quartered at Ches¬ ter, and yfe were not forlbreign service, till the next year. Rupert Leigli re¬ ceived me very cordially, and introdu¬ ced roc to his friends. Things seemed to have taken a rather fortunate turn, but for one circumstance: I never felt quite sure that I had not made a mis¬ take. Every young clergyman I met oponed my mind to new doubts as to whether theology had not been my ex¬ press vocation; every man of business as to the question of speculation on the Bourse or Stoek Exchange. There cer¬ tainly arose one good out of the profes¬ sion I had embraced, as far as aflected my natural character. There were cer¬ tain things that were not left to my oivn judgment,—things whieh I was com¬ pelled to do ; and the machine-like ev¬ olutions ofa soldiers body acted favora¬ bly on my mind; it was only things that were left that tormented me. I often wonder why I was not born a woman, with the inestimable privilege of being aUowed to change my mind every hour of tho day!
I don't think my peculiarity^vas dis¬ covered in the regiment for some time, but it came out by degrees. At races, if 1 backed a favorite horse, and had apparently every chance of winning, the least straw would turn me in another direction, and I would set about hedg¬ ing, and so loseallmy chanoe8,;making and unmaking my book twenty times. Ifwe got up a ball, and each offlcerhad the privilege of inviting a certain numr ber of guests, I would debate so long, and change my mind so often, that the day would arrive, and it was too late for me to ask any one.
I affected dandyism, but I never could decide on my model, consequently the changes in my costume were marvelous, and my tailor's bill was alarming.— When it became my turn to cater for the mete, I believe I nearly drove the cook frantit^byjny orders and counter- orders. Even in such trifles as writing notesj I never coiuld decide upon what to say, and I' wduW often tear up a dozen in succ^loiibMjre settling upon the one which I ¦wotila send. Iba^o sooner liought a horse.^d, dog-cart, which I^adlmmepsely.'(»vetg(J,fJand for which I had out-bld.'anaQUle^pfa^-
pllCant8j'¦'than':I.¦¦won^d'¦;to^ worl|4'i^ have Be^ii abji^j'fo 'change It; for a'.ffiit'il phiietoh. ;. j', gave .'away my dog,^)iuid> could- seahiely vefratn; from asking'to'iiaye It back'the verj''next day.' ¦In'aefei» in' eifit^'ing,; exdept, aa, t¦asire^ M^dr'^e.i«eKitai^Ie,.auti^.a^
was
At last an event happened which might have become the turning-point of my existence,-1 fell in love. The only reason I can give for doing so is, that love is an involuntary aet. AVould that marriage had beeu so also! But that being left to roy own decision, I naturally marred roy destiny. Not far from Chesler I had often noticed a fine old-fashioned country house, called "The Cedars," well situated in a wood¬ ed park. Utile thinking how great an inlluence its inmates would have upon myself. But so it was: my fatherwrote to toll nic that the AValsinghams were old friends of his early days; that he had accidentally heard of their living near Chester, and desired me to call upon thero.
I often wonder wliy I went; I took several weeks making up my mind to do so. Perhaps, if I had never gone, I should never have knowu Isabel Wnl- singham; and then- Alas! Isabel AA'^alsingham is one of the most unhappy memories of ray past life. Isaw her tlio flrst day I went to " The Cedars" ; glio onmoin nUhj^jj^jj drawing-room window with .someTTovP ei-3 in her hand, wearing a softly falling muslin dress and a straw hat under wliich was a face of surpassing loveli¬ ness. No Isabel, I thought, liowever renowned in song or prose, could, ever equal Isabel AA'alsingham, with her dark eyes, browu hair, smiling, rosy lips, and teeth that might have rivalled Nell Gwynne's. She was not tall, nor very slight,.bul all hor movcmeuts were light aud graceful, and there was a joy¬ ous ring in her laugh that seemed like flashes of sunshine.
I remained to luncheon ; I was asked to dinner, and was treated, by reason of my father, like an old friend. Sir John AValsingham was a kind, hospitable country gentleman, and his wife a per¬ fect model of old age, .as she sat in an arm-chair dressed iu a handsome gray silk dress and white lace cap. Isabel was not the only member of the family. She had flve brothers, but ou¬ ly one was at home, and he did not re¬ turn till just before dinner, so that du¬ ring the afternoon I was left entirely to the care of Isabel, who lionized me over the grounds, and flnally allowed me to take her out for a row on a branch of the river which ran through the park.
Her brotlier Frank had returned by the time wo were thinking of going baek, and he came to meet us,—a bright, curly-headed boy of about seventeen, who resembled Isabel, witliout beiug exactly liiie her. AVe all returned to the house together. Shortly after our return, dinner was announced, and the rest of the evening flew, rather than passed awaj', and I found niyself once more in my barrack-room. I^could not sleep; for when I went to bed I was haunted by Isabel AA^alsingham.
I went to "The Ced.ars" again and again, until my frequent absence from barracks began to draw remarks upon me, which I evaded as well as I could- But at last my idol was discovered ; and I — However I may as well relate how it happened. •
The Walsiugli.aros talked'of giving a ball; aud as Isabel seemed enchanted at the idea, I warmly seconded it, and promised to secure the attendance of as many ofmy brother olficers ns they re¬ quired. I felt that I loved Isabel; and I thought of proposing for Iier hand be¬ fore finally deciding that Rupert Leigh sliould see her, and that I should have his opinion.
It has been, I believe, the mistake of all ages to call in the cat t» guard the cream, and it was mine.
The ball was a great success; I never saw Isabel look so radiantly lovely. I longed to pass the entire niglit by her side, but I refrained. I led up Rupert Leigh, introduced him, and watched at a distance the impression, and hoped she had produced a favor.able one. He had asked her to dance, and as they whirled past me in a waltz, his eyes raet raine, and I saw that he approved. I think that during the whole of that evening I avoided Isabel; first, because I did not want to make myself conspic- 'uous; aud secondly, because I was anx¬ ious for Rupert Leigh to have every op¬ portunity of foi-ming his opinion, and I saw that he hovered aboitt her with lh.at intention.
Once, late in the evening, she came up to me, and I fancied her dark eyes had something of reproach in them as she said softly, " Are you enjoying my ball, Mr. Leicester ?"
"A''ery mueh. Miss AValsingham," I replied; "but I could enjoy it more if you could spare me another dauce."
I fancied a color flushed into her cheeks as siie bent over her card.
"AVhy did yo not ask me before?" said Isabel.
" You are so much engaged, I did not like to do so," I replied.
"Strangers," said she, "would never be put before friends, unless my friends deserted me."
" You consider me, then, as a friend?" I asked.
The color now rose unmistakably, but she looked up into ray face, and said, "Are you not?"
I took her hand, and drew it through my arm. I bent over her, and whis¬ pered some low, soft words, and felt hei hand tremble in mine. The music'l struck up, and without, another word we entered the dreamy maze of the waltz. AVhen we stopped, Rupert Leigh was standing before us.
"I think that was my dance. Miss AValsingham," said he.
"Never mind, old fellow," said I, " it was roy fault." And I nodded to him gayly, once more putting my arm round her waistasthe "Dreamsof Childhood" came wafted from the orchestra down the brilliantly lighted room.
After tiie dance was over, I still lin¬ gered by her side, and, finally, we found ourselves standing on the broad terrace that skirted the drawing-room, with the moon aboveour heads. AVhat a glorious night it was! everything in nature so intensely-still, and the perfume of the flowers, like.incense, stealing up with every faint breath of air.
" You look tired, Miss Walsingham," I'said I, as we walked slowly on.
"Not very," she replied; "but Hike the feeling of reaction on coming out into the quiet night, after all the ex¬ citement df lights and dancing. Listen to the music," sho said, pointing in the direction of the ball-rooro, "and then look out here."
I glanced at the scenery, and then my eyes rested on Isabel herself. Surely nothing in nature or art could have looked more bewitching than she did then in her floating white dress, that, in the uncertain light, seemed like summer clouds, with heart's ease and blush roses in her brown hair. She held a bouquet of hot-house flowers in her hand, and as she beiit ovei: them, a sudden impulse made'me ask;.her!to give it me, in remembrance, I. isaid, of
the ey«ning.: She' smiled.aa.she .partliy!| held them towards me.      .; i-'i'^i'; -.n.., ¦ '^e tamed,'and slowli^:r^twoed .isur steps^: i was debating 'wtejJ^er.'J shoulcl .proposeiibut at Ihist .it yi.»a. deeided forij me thati should hot; fd^Isabel'^ hand
¦¦?fa8|,xkaimed'ror;,'a.-;^^cfe.^t^^
.Wjajfsjne figaln in^yie'inf ¦pf.'i^^ doWsV *ofc that I had positively deoldied ] even that Miss Walsingham was neces¬ sary to my happiuess, but I was think¬ ing it might be so. As she swept past me half an hour afterwards, making some gay repartee to a remark of Ru¬ pert Leigh's, her light laugh jarred dis¬ agreeably on my ear, and I deteVmihed to broach 'the subject to liim on our way home. I did so. I felt very unde¬ cided as to how to begin, but the diffi¬ culty wassavcd me.
AVe lighted our cigars, andin the fair dawn ofa summer morning had hardly left the gay scene behind us, when Ru¬ pert Leigh ofl'ered me what he was pleased to term his hearty congratula¬ tions, which he accompanied by a slap upon my shoulders tliat nearly mnde me-drop tbe reins out ofmy hands, ahd caused my horse. Sultan, to rear on his hind legs. I was drivi ng myself in tbe dog-cart, the purchase of which I had so regretted.
A few minutes ago, and I was anxious Rupert Leigh should feel that a some¬ thing was understood between Miss AValsingham and myself; but now that .^o^ppeared evident such was the. eaae, my mind gave one of its uncomfortable rebounds though I still pursued the subject, and asked his opinion. He warmed upon it, and spoke in a way that certainly was gratifying. I told hiro that I had' made an arrangement to lunch at " The Cedars" on the fol¬ lowing day, and wished hira to accom¬ pany me. He hesitated as to the pro¬ priety of his doing so unasked, but I pressed the point, assuring him that he ought to call, and that as my particular friend his doing it with mc w.is only natural.   So it ended that we went.
After luncheon, I left to him to wan der about the grounds with Isabel, in order that he might become better ac- quiiinted with her, while I talked to Sir John; and he certainly seemed to im¬ prove tlie occasion, for we did not get away nntil nearly five o'clock. Going home, he renewed the congratulations which he had offered on the morning of the ball; but the possibility of his thinking I was decided on marrying made me inieasy.
Was I decided? Night after night I lay awake, and weighed the pros and cons. I tossed " heads, I do; tails, I don't." I. tried if my marriage came out in patience, sitting over the cards alone in my own room. I continued to visit at "The Cedars," but managing it as quietly as I could. I was no longer the same. In Isabel's society I was absent and constrained, fearing I might do or say anything that might commit roe.
AVhile in this state of mind the afliiir got wind in the regiment, and one night at mess I was overwhelmed with con¬ gratulations. The instinct of self-pres¬ ervation made me deny that I had the slightest intentions in a matrimonial direction, and I reiterated my denial again and again.
AVlien mess was over, and we were standingin the anteroom, Rupert Leigh came over to where I was standing, and, putting his arm within mine, asked roe to come up and have a cigar witli hiin in his own roora, and, anxious to es¬ cape, I acceded. When we had settled ourselves comfortably,—a tiling it was quite possible to do in Rupert Leigh's room, where things were fitted up with the elegance of, a lady's boudoir,—se- lecling two arra-chairs of the most lux¬ urious description, and lighting our ci¬ gars, he returned to the subject of my probable engagement to Isabel AVal¬ singham. I don't know what possessed mc, but the feeling that Isabel was be¬ ing forced upon me mside roe deny to him having any intention of marrying, as I had dono to the others.
His manuer was so serious that I be-1 came quite alarmed. Had I gone too ' far? My mind was in a complete chaos. AVhy were not marriages arranged by the families, on the French system? AVhat agonies of doubt I should have been saved ! I don't know, or rather I didnot then know, what possessed Ru¬ pert Leigh, but lie got up quite abrupt¬ ly, shook my hand, called me "a jolly old fellow," and proposed brandy and water. Alas! I know, now that it is too late, what it all meant. As it was then, I enjoyed the evening immense¬ ly. Two or three other men came in, and I forgot, in the liimcs of aloohol, the troubles ofmy mind, which seemed just then to have acquired a stability quite unaccountable. I railed at mat¬ rimony generally, sang comic songs, and recited " Betty Hunt."
I don't remember goiug to bed, but I found myself there in tbe morning, and all my force of character seemed tohave been left behind me. However, I de¬ termined to give up for a time going to " The Cedai-s," and to let it be felt in the regiment that no joking on thesub¬ ject was to be allowed; and I succeeded with the assistance of Rupert Leigh, who promised to give a hint to that ef¬ fect. I know now that his generosity extended further, and that he went constantly in my place to see Isabel Walsingham.
The first disagreeable iropression, that I was about to lay myself open to the chance of being obliged to do something definite about Miss AValsingham, was wearing away, and in its place a rest¬ less desiro to see her was just beginning to take possession of my mind, when, one evening, in the private room of an Irish lieutenant, a toast was proposed. Rupert Leigh was not present; he had gone out to dinner, where, I did not then know. However, glasses were filled, and three cheers given for Rupert Leigh, and his—lady love 1 A sick feel¬ ing stole over me. His lady love I Who waa she? I asked. Who? Isabel Wal¬ singham ? A thousand demons seemed to shriek her name, and a mist floated before my eyes. I retained only suffi¬ cient consciousness to rush from the room. Now that Isabel was lost I knew I wanted her,—that I must have her. I was mad with rage. AVhat atraitor I had cherished as a friend! I only wait> cd for his return to pour down my ven¬ geance upon him. Hours passed; du¬ ring which I paced up and down my; barrack room; nt last I heard his horse's tread, then his footstep on the stair, and then his door shut.
I followed instantly. I did not even knock, aud 1 found him standing with a photograph in his hand, which he was admiring by the uncertain light of a candle. At the veiy first glance I knew whose portrait itwas, and it gave an impetus to my; wrath, convinced, as I was, that Rupert Leigh was. a man whom auy woman might lo.ve. I had never considered him so mueh person¬ ally before as I did in the few moments during which I held his door-handle in my trembling hand. His deep gray eyes were bent on the picture, a soft smile played on his lips, whilst I—but IMuldconttiln myself,ng longer; he had looked up, and biir'eyes, met. : '.'l8thiatrae,V.Icsaid, !'that you are. iengaged'fc'Isabel'Walsingham 7"
i'l Viftnite.twe<i'j*e ieplled,)!«nd .seihe flppke hejdBBWuWpself inp [as if'b.euwere ¦proudtgisayilt.i TheacHon.more than rwordsimaddened.me. ¦!¦,.-. i'f/r l.',..,' ..ii','And you say this to me?'; Jex- ;claimed,-7-!^ mei when iffm knew Isabel -Walsingham, Was all but my aiflanced wife!" ': - {-.;: ,':   , -,,
-,,"I,knew,tbat»hewa8noi^''?heneplied,i " Ihad it ffom your own lips." ¦ 1 iiufstinto'atorrentofinvecti-ve, and he waited till I had done. , ,
"I will not;quarrel with you," he said; " we have been friends too long, i First listen to me. ' Just consider. , I wouldnot take your wpid,at mess, for I thought you might then have said what you did in the heat of the mo¬ ment; but you repeated that you never meant to ask Isabel Walsingham to he your wife here in this very room to me, as your friend, and whdn we were alone. I liked Isabel Walsingham- even then, and in my heart I thanked you foi'your decision. Itwas not till after that I thought to win her for myself; after that I did, and now—"';
" She shall never be yours if I can prevent it!" I exclaimed; and again I launched into a volley of bitterreproaeh- es. In my rage I rushed at him, but he was stronger than I, and )ield me back.
"This is folly," lie said,—" folly which it is too late now to repair.' If J-ou had known your own mind, I should never have tried to come between. you.iand your .wishes; as it i.i^"
" As it is," I repeated, " I only want the morning light to go to ' The Cedarsi to explain it all,—your villany and my own love."
He smiled. I paused .again at the door, the smile was so hateful to me; but'I could not speak. I rushed back to my own room. I ordered my dog¬ cart, first for sixo'clock, then forseven, then for nine, tmd finally for ten,—and at ten I started for " The Cedars," as I was determined to see Isabel. She would.corae to me in the drawing-room, aud stand before me in her soft white dress, and we should be alone. I would expose the perfidy of Rupert Leigh, and confess my own love, nnd she would confess in return that she had always loved me best; and then the tears would come, aud I should wipe them away, feel her little trembling hand In mine, and the soft brown hair would rest on roy shoulders, and the dark eyes look up to raine, and Rupert Leigh should be forever consigned to oblivion!
I was carried away by the fervor of my imagination for at least five miles of the journey, but as I neared "The Cedars" it abated, and my fixed deter¬ mination of seeking an interview with Isabel AValsingliam wavered. I drew in the horse's reins till what had at starting been almost a gallop became a walk; and finally, when I was just in sight of the house, I stopped altogether.
I believe I remained almost an hour trying to decide whether I would go in¬ to the lodge gates or not, but at last I saw a carriage advancing, and not hav¬ ing the courage to remain, I turned, and retraced mj- steps to Chester.
Years have gone by since then, but the lessons I have been taught have failed in bringinginaharvestofres-alK Rupert Leigh sold out, and married Isabel Walsinghara, and shortly after the regiment was ordered abroad. I meant to try for an exchange, but I kept putting it off for ten years, and then the returu home of the regiment prevented roy carrying out my inten¬ tion. I have often thought of leaving the army altogether, but I can never come to adefiniteconclusion. lam not high up in the regiment, for men have purchased over my head, not beeause I was wanting in the means requisite, but I never decided in time whether I preferred my money in the funds or not.
I am still unmarried.butam no long¬ er a victim to the memory of Isabel Walsingham; for, on tlie contrarj', I have been on the borders of the hyme¬ neal abj'ss on several subsequent occa¬ sions, but never quite over, still feeling haunted by the fear of making a mis¬ take. But I by no means give up the idea; and should I ever make up my mind definitely on that or any other subject, I will let the public know.— English Magazine.
FOE THE LITTIE POIKS. BILLY JONES.
There once lived a young boj' whose name was Billy Jones." But.he was not like you, dear children, who can under¬ stand what you read and what you hear. No; poor Billy was foolish. He would, when spoken to, either stare or laugh In a silly manner, which was very sad to see.
Hehad a father, and mother, and one sister, older than himself. His parents were poor, and had to depend mainly on their daughter Mary, who was at service with a rich lady.
Mr. and Mrs. Graham lived in a fine place, ealled the Grange. They were charitable to the Jones' family, and Billy was allowed to come in at any time to their house, the servant Iiaving been told to let him amuse himself.
But though poor Billy was so ignor¬ ant he would remember most of what he heard about God, about heaven, and about our Lord Jesus Christ; and when¬ ever his mother spoke to hini about tbose things, his face would brighten up with pleasure.
Of all the portions of the Bible which Billy had explained to him, the Ten Commandments had impressed him tlie most, and he would be heard again aud again repeating to himself the wordsof the eighth, "Thou shalt not steal."
One day he liad .been seut to tho Grange, with a message to his sister.— As he passed under the kitchen win¬ dow, he saw in the grass something shining, and picked it up. It was a beautiful silver spoon, such as Billy never handled before. He knew little, but enough to see how much richer would his hard-working father bemade by this; but this poor lad had in his heart the fear of God, that fear whiqh keeps us from sill.
He put the spoon in his coat-sleeve; for his pocket was not deep enough to hide it entirely, and walked in. After having given his message, he added, that he must see the ladj'. They all were surprised, for he always had seem¬ ed afraid of their master and mistress. His look, too, was so strange, that the good-natured servants gathered around him; but to all their inquiries to what ailed him, heonly answered by repeat¬ ing his request, and, as soon as unob¬ served, he made hla, way. to the parlor, where there was company.
The sight of so many, strangers made his poor heart beat fast; but on he'went, intent upon returning to its owners what he nad found.. At last Mrs. Gra¬ ham saw him, when'she' exclaimed In astonishment, thoiigh kindly, "Well, my boy, :what do you want to-day ?"
Billy then approached her, and pull¬ ing the sjiotin out of his coat-sleevo, pnt it in hei' hands, , repeating slowly, " Thou shalt not steal—thou shalt not steal."   .     .,¦',,;
You may imagine the surprise, not of the lady only, butdf all present. Sooh everjr one In the room had surrounded the lad, who kept saying to himself, "Thou Shalt notsteal.1'
Mr. Graham'then; kindly taking the child by the hand,-asked how lie got the spoon; 'After some time he could pronohncfe as, mnch as, "TTnder- the kltehen window—Billy found—'Thou Shalt not steal.'" , ¦   .    ,:
WATSISEtWUXIra.1
i Sweet IltUe lbvInKtliln'iir<iw;Io*,')OTi^V   ¦' .IIawnlntti£iu>ld-,ical4i^aTaalieIlu:i: i Deep nMth.t,he^djtL»xrSnoUitmdsr(the,gnowi
Silencod'forevorher.^arpijiaiidctle^'   , Sweet little'dimple cliin, .liow. eh^ would dance! ' "¦¦;"•''-"¦ '¦    ¦ '      ;
' Dear little langblng-iey^,' 'titrw' she' would' ..¦ '.smile!-li^J"'?." ' ¦Hiili'i'":!..- ¦>¦¦¦¦¦-¦ StlU are:hei>11o7<'l(9etU«w;jmai Willie,"
THE
" Houldyef whist,^" CTWaoiaTerrencei McCarthy, to a.pai;ty! of gossiping youngl people who haid. gathered; together iin! his dang'liter-fti-law's best rooiu to passi away the niight of ^'Ali Hallowe'eu " ' in merry chat,anil, appropriate games, i "Yer jisli.talking widout knowing a' word of maning ih what ye say. What.; do the likes of ye know of Banshees and, white-wives,-whin ye left the ould coun¬ try before ye reaohed the age of dlscre- tlbn, when one of thim would be likely "to let thimsilves be seen by ye. Did ivir; ye iiear of Downie Castle? It'a a grand' ould place entirely, and they're a greatJ family, though the most of thlra's gone' now. Well, I'll tell ye a little story .of my own that'll showye whataBanshee' is, better norall yer fool clashing. Whiu I was a slip ofa boy, I went to Downie, Castle to bea hUper to tlie gardener,' and it's an aisy time I had of it, forj beyant running arrlnts and carrying; messages it's little dt^gging or hoeing I did. Ye seetherewasouldLordDownie, who splnt the most of his time in Lon¬ don, and the two j'OUng gentlemen. Lord John and the Honorable Misther Frank, and that was all the family. There wasn't a faymale in the whole' place any higher nor Mrs. Flanagan the housekeeper, j'OungLanty'saunt, that wasa kind of comrade boy of mine. Lord John was a flne, outspoken young geutleman, tt little loud in liis way and' aisy put out of temper, but no ways' spiteful. Troth, I've seen him fly out: the laste offlnse, and ye'd think that nothing short of the life of the offinder would appase his wrath, and the nixt minute he'd be laughing till ye could' hear the roars of him in the farthest ind of the Castle. He niver took much offinsc at me, but I mind a rise or twc we had together about his gun wanst. Ye must know he tuck a notion to me from seeing me about the lawn. I was a smart, nate young chap in thim times, thougii I say it mesilf that shouldn't; and says lie to McManus the gardener, saj-s he—' That's a tidy young fellow ye have running round at yer heels; eould ye spare him to me to carry me gun or run after game and the like ?'
" ' Faith could I, me lord,' says Mac- Manns. ' Sure, I wish ye luck of him for he's a heart-break to me, being fon¬ der of playing and diverting himsiif nor he is of doing his duty.'
" Lord John niver listened to him, but'Comeon,'says he to me, and I wint afther him, faliug glad to be free from the ould targer. Sure, he .was a noble-gentleman out and out, though, as I told ye, he was given to take tan¬ trums wanst ¦ an' awhile. Is it tell ye about the' Banshee ? Sure I'ro coming to ber as fast as I can, and ye must be patient so ye must.
" Ma.sther Frank, the younger son, was an iligant craytliure; he had wint abroad to get the grand iddecation he had, and his manners and looks was beautiful enough for an angel. Och, I wish J'e could Iiave laid ej'es on him; it would have made yer heart bound wid joy if ye had, for itwas a cure for the heartache to see him smile. A swa- ter spoken, gentler, milder being niver drew breath; a kind word and a tinder smile he had for high and low, and roany's the time I thought to mesilf, ' Lord John's a flne gintleman, but, troth, it would be a great thing for the poor if Misther Frank had been the heir.' Everybody loved him, ahd he lift a stone of blissing flowing after hira whereiver he moved. He used to say to me whin he met me in the park or in the Castle hall—'Well, Terry, my flne fellow, how is the good man yer father? I hope j-e find ray brother a good master; he's hastj', I know, but he means well.'
"Och, I used to think I liked Lord John, but I wonld be willing to die for Mister Frank.
"AVell, one day I was riding home from Ballyshawn, the little town near Downie, and I Iiad reached the foot of the hill that led up to the Castle gate, whin a strange-looking lad came up to me and laid hold on the bridle that was hanging loosely in my hand.
"' AVhere is Castle Downie, where Misther Frank lives ?' he asked, in a quare sort of tone that was soft and swate and plading like. He had the biggest black eyes iver ye loolced at, an' he was purty too, though rather dark complected, and wild like about the dress. He was slinder and very young, but sorrowful looking, and seemed faint aud opprest by some great trouble. I was sinsible that he was a furrincr; and, to tell ye the truth, I found out what he mint to say quite as much by his ejes and tho motions of his hands as by the words he was speaking to me. I looked at him feeling sorry for the wake craythure, and, says I, ' Is it Dow¬ nie Castle yer wanting? Sure I'm going up to thelsame plaee. Give mc j-er hand and I'll set you down at the door.'
" AVell, he climbed np behint me, and wid a shower of thanks for the of¬ fer I'd made him, and we started ofl' together. Afther that he niver said a word till we reached the place, whin he slid down and I lost sight of him among the shrubbery. After that I heard that there was a new sarvint in the place, a furrin lad that was to wait on Misther Frank, and I saw hira wanst in awhile at the upper windies, though I never had a word wid him at all at all. It didn't seem that he was of much use to his roasther, for he nary then rode wid hiro orwintonhisarrints, but jist stood about his chamber door like a favorite page like.
" At this time there was a great talk among us all at the castle, for yc see Miss Lily McGinn of Willow Lodge, a great heiress and beauty, that Ivery- body had thought to be Lord John's swateheiirt, turned her back on him suddenly on account of his timper, and took to recaving Misther Frank aud ridingand walking wid him as gay as ye place. Sure, if I hadn't heard ofthis trouble I'd thoughtthatmymastherhad gone clane mad entirely, for saving yer prisince, the divil himself waa a saint compared to him for agreeability and politeness. It was a word and a blow wid him—and he'd throw his riding bootsafterme whin I didn't jist fly, or yell at me like asavage barbarian whin I was a little slow of hearing. Troth it was a hard life, and I was heart-broken watching him growing paler, and fiercer, and wilder every day—till at last it was give out that Miss Lily and Misther Frank was to be married, and her ould aunt tuck'her off to London together ready, and Misther Frank follied dffsacretly, for ye see he was afraid ofhis brother; more be; token so he niight be seeing how man^' he had; becii acting. It ¦was a'hard thing liz to' belave.,that, any one .wid the' au'Sel s wateness of aiisther iFrank coutd' turn, his back on his own flesh and blood;
^.^.J-.H.O  JJJllJ '.I.II ..  Jll.    ll-     I...   .'.,1' ..
and ;'dematlej'Jiinuelf ASy -sti^ntfj-ljl
WothA'i!!i5v'a«hfeartl'J!Bti«'wKd4te6nH^
saw .thati there! Jwasiiboi.dxcUsei ¦ tSad- dintlrEdrd'Johfn ttic^ tb'hls wid 4n a
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1
he^,of i!o'me t^e, bnt tie-9fo\ii!^^WiM fake to do more. kate,,tiilm ':wS^',biafiTf. times, for ye see we,niVer,ifnpw'd l^ow' ,much,we thougjit'of .tjhaniastlie tUl we, felt we weregpihg to lose him. . Oph but there was htirrying,, and .riding, and running, and, the.iDublin (^octor was sint for and a letter.came from, the ould Lord Downie iu;London, saying that he iiad. lieard of Misther, Frank's cowardly doings, and would soon be there to put a stop to tliim.
AVell, the 4th dayof the illness camei anil me aud Lanty Flanagan, the house- kpeper's neyy, was tired enough, bekase j we were running and working all day to get Lord Downie's rooms ready, for the housekeeper's hands was f uU wi'l nursing Lord John. We heard it drop¬ ped among the boys that the furi'iu lad was ailing, and as we was going up and down in that part of the building we met an ould furrin praste going up the stairs wid a solemn face and a ijowed head.-So fallng sorry that the poor craythure was suffering so far away from his home and all that know'd him, I wint up to the door to speak to on ould sleek looking fellow that Misther Frank had tuck abroad wid him year before, and made a great confidant of, tho' no one else iver could bear tho sight of him. Saj's I, 'How's, the poor J'oungiad?' says I, and says he, 'Don't be disturbing yersilf about him, Mis¬ ther Terjy, for he's able to. get along widout yer politeness.' AVall, wid that he shut the door in me face,;and I come down, seeing that I could do no more, and I tould Lanty Flanagan, saj-s I, 'Lanty, I don't think thati would be kaplngachaplike yon old fox about if I ¦was the'heir to Castle Downie.'
"AVell, on the fourth night, as I said, we was expecting the Dublin doctor, and MrSi Flanagan saj's to me and Lanty, ' Boys,' says she, 'I kuow yer tired wid running and laboring to-day, but yer the only two that I can trust to open the hall door, and answer the bell at the lodge gate. So ye'U have to sit up iu the little room fqriiiiist the side lawn, aild I'll have a flre kept up that ye may be comfortable like.'
" So there we sat whin midnight was approaching, and we felt no ways gaj' or lively all things taken into account. The masther lying at death's door, Mis¬ ther Frank turned out mane and de¬ signing like, and the ould lord on his way from London like a raging lion, and we know'd there would be hot times wheu all came to all.
"Faith, our spirits got low enough, and a sup of whisky would have been mighty cheering to uz if we'd had a drap handy. Says Lanty, saj's he, ' Terrj', have ye any hopes of Lord John?'
'"Troth, Lanty,' saya I, 'I don't know whether it's best to wish him well again or pray that he may never come to himself to the villainy of thim that should be ashamed to bould up their heads forninst him.'
" It had been threatening to storm all evening, a high, gusty wind was bhiw- ing wild, tearing round the turrets of the castle and ripping the ivy from the walls. Now great splasiies of rain be¬ gan to dash against the windows and the wind howled louder and louder.
"' It's a bad night for hard riding,' said Lanty. The Dublin doctor is com¬ ing through rough weather on a poor arrant I feared.'
" I drew a long sigh and shook me head, for I felt very sad, and all of a suddinta terrible blast shook the case¬ ment as if a giant had laid his hand upon tlie window, and the fastening loosening, it flew open in the middle, and one of the two tall candles on the table went out with the draft. Lanty rose to close it and the wind was so strong agin him tbat he had to struggle wid its force; but louder and higher nor the wind came the wailing of a woman's voice, sweeping aroiind the turret and pausing like by the window where we stood. Lanty turned white as a ghost as he heard the sound, and the very eyes stood in his head wid fright.
" 'It's the white wife, Terry,' hesaid, ' did ye he.arit, och! did ye hear it?'
" AVell, ye see, I was not far behint him wid horror, but I thought to mesilf it would niver do to let him know it, and so I saj-s-' Faith, it would be hard to tell what's what whin the wind's rearing nbout like mad.'
" Then we both stood still, listening, and Lanty's face was whiter nor a clout, and I felt white enougli mesilf. A minute more and the loud cry of grief that rose above the storm made itself heard again, and then we saw, wid our living ej'es, the figure of a small, pale woman, with streaming hair and flo.at- ing robes, wringing her hands andwail- ing with frantic grief. She looked in on uz steadily, wid big black ej-es that shone like coals iu her white face, and seemed to ask help in great distress and agonj-. It was only for an instant that she stood there, and then she threw up her hands and floated away out on the storm, ¦with the long, wild ory that sounded above its roar aud tnmult. ' "'Tliesaints be about us!' said Lan¬ ty, falling on hia knees; and trotii I waa down on me own, praying like a pUgrim, and faling mighty miserable, and jist frightened out of me wits. The next minute we heard a thundering rap on tho hall door, and the sound echoed through all the house like a trumpet. We rose and ran to open it, nud there stood the Dublin doetor, wid the post-boy tliat had dru v him down, and do yo know the storm was so hinli that wc couldn't near tho sound of the wheels at all. Well, he didn't stop long to talk to uz, but the butler met him and tuck him away up stairs, while Lanty and me crept off to our beds, be¬ ing very rauch overcome wid what we had gone through.
" The next morning the word was give out in the castle that the ould lord was come down, and that a change had tuck place in the night and lord John was out of danger. It was glad ue ws to uz all, for we niver know'd how wc loved him till we thought his end was iome; sure we jist cried for joy whin Mrs. Flanagan comes into the hall and tould uz that there was no longer, any fear for him—What was the uae of the Banshee, did ye say?-wait a bit and I'll tell ye—
"'But,' says Mrs. Flanagan, says she, 'there was death amongst uz last uight. The furrin lad that Misther Frank made apageofbre;athed his last, jest afther raldpight, in the arnia of a Spanish praste that had.know'd him in his own countiy, and, doye know, they're say¬ ing thathe belonged to bigfolk in his o^ffh country; aiid the ould lord is ii^ a terriiile way, walking up and down the, ; lihrary,- like a^dlon In -a cage; afther isendlng a n6|te over to McGinn,;i)f ,AYil- low'^'Lp'dge, to' 'settle,. about' Misther : Frank as we. all, tilink.': ;   i,;; ;
: "'What iia it;yer.Buying?—^that'.Biy ; Banshee waSn't' a raal Banshee,-fAr'It cried for a stranger?   Hould yerwhisi
|!«KllL}tiZiiaiii^d0nif be^nttin me' oati^ •Ban!t-<J)kii««i:itilieji.tieVer lament foE iaay'bat'tbe'i]amief'oftlier'h<f|Bf#'theyb6- laBgjta?-<C'aJi'tyB.walt'ailJiWvli-.;'i ¦ ¦ j ;u'>. Sfire,ye dmst^know^tfacee Tra^Weaf doings »t Jio'WAle a(therthis;<for tmagb th'ejT' g^e oat' tfaatltb^unin ¦ :ia(l 'had
Idled of ai&verrihBtnms ketehiiig :aiid
inoouaimovt:     - ¦   .
heyrtstmi'pUgb,'
hoble'fiimUy,'Who hadi married Mlsthe Frank in saybret, and- that he had left her to gain his father's consent, and she had followed him at last, in ¦ depalr of meeting him anymore, nobodyknowln; what cozening story he had put her aS wid whilo he wooed Lily JlcGinn; but the word of his marriage had killed Her out and out. It was a blissing to her to die in the arms of thim who know'd her; an<| the ould praste saw her namei righted, for she was burled as the ac¬ knowledged wife of the Honorable Francis Lacy, of Downie Castle.. Now J-e see, don't yez, that the Banshee did-; n't cry round the ould turrets In vain? ' " Ocfi, but that was the long tlmeago; sure; I've beon digging deep Into tha past when I remember it all. I knew; Lord John whin he was an ould white- haired giutleraan,. wid the'mildest; swatest face iverye saw, for, do ye mind what I'm telling ye, he never was seen in a passion afther the day he rose np out of his faver. He li>[ed and died a batcheldor, though always gallant and kind to the ladies for the sake of ould times, and nobody iver regretted his be¬ ing the heir of Downie.
"Misther Frank died abroad, for he niver faced his brother again, and I mind ihe time well whin I saw Lord John ride in a mourning coach to the funeral of Lady Tyrrell, of Castle Moat, that used to be Lily McGinn, of Willow Lodge. She had a son, an officer, that was as tall as Lord John at the time, but still evetyone remarked that the husband himself did not look more grieved nor Lord John as they lowered her into her last risting-place.
" Some can live ou a mimory, and I think Lord John w^iis continted wid what he knowed of love ; at any rate, nayther Lanty nor me wanted any fur¬ ther ktiowledge of Banshees than we got that night whin the white wife of Downie wailed for the poor j-oung wife ofits decatefiil son,"—Lady's Friend.
"inrfiA;
TJCES.
¦««TCE.,
fistate'ofjacoi) ?^u^arii'late'' _' Hettipfleld twp., dec'd.
i'oflVe'st
I t»iiaj>«r«««tate, to 'and amoSjt th^'f^fj
ABBOinSTBATOBS' NOTICE.
Estate of Martin Kreider, sr., late- of West Lampeter township, dec'd.
LETTEES of administration on said Estate having been granted to thBumlenilgned, all persons Indebted thereto are requested to make immediatepaytnenLand those baving claims ordemands against (he samewill present them for sottlement to the undersigned.
MAKHN KREIDER. I,,ancaster Oty,
JOHN R. kBBlSEii; W.'lMipeUciWp., "1 ¦»-"'!» Administrators.
Jul7-0t33
AirnnoB's notice.
- Davliateln- metz, administrator of all and singular, tbe goods and chattels, righta and credfta-. wlilch were of Christian-Bechtel, late of Eost Cocalica twp., Laneaster county, dec'd, to and among those legally entitled to the aome. will sit for that purpdse on MONDAY, tho 3rd day of Sep¬ tember. 1860, at II o'clock in the forenoon In the Library Room In the Court Hotiae in the city OfLancaster, when and where all persons Interested may attend.
PETEB JIARTIN, July Il-lt-^ Andltor.
his
BEEVITIES.
How does the hair-dresser end days?   He cm-Is up and dj-es.
AVomau,-an essay on grace, lu one volume, elegantly bound.
Gentleman—A manual of good man¬ ners, bound in cloth.
A dogma is defined as an opinion laid down with a snarl.
Our vanity is incessantly the enemj' of our self-love.
No matter how long j-ou liave been married, never neglect to court your wife.
Sublimity iu Humility—The soul goes highest wlien tiic body kneels lowest.
Neither false curls, false teeth, false calves, nor even false ej-cs, arc as bad as false tongues.
If a toper and a gallon of whiskey were left together, which would be drunk flrst?
If you wish that your own merit shoiild be recognized, recognize the merits of others.
Not a few seek to accommodate truth to their views and feelings; it is wiser to accommodate our views and feeUngs to truth.
AVhy is a restless sleeper like the pro¬ verbial lawyer ? Because ho lies on one side, and turns and lies on the other.
An old lady, hearing somebody say the malls were very irregular, said: "It was just so in mj' j-oung daj's—no trust¬ ing any of'em."
In the midst of a stormj" discussion a weakling majestically began—" Gentle¬ men, all I want is common sense." " Exactly," Jerrold interrupted ; "that is precisely what you do want! " The discussion was lost in a burst of laugh¬ ter.
Sentinieutal youth: " My dear girl, will you share my lot for life ?"
Practical girl: " How raauy acres are there In your lot, sir?"
"Mr, Swipes, I've just kicked your son AVilliam out of my store." "Well, Mr. Swingle, it's the first bill you've footed this many n day."
ACDITOB'S NOTICE.
Estate of Samuel Seiple, late of Dm- raore twp., dec'd
THE uuderalgned Andltor appointed to dis¬ tribute the balance remaining In the bands ot John Seiple, administrator of the above es¬ tate, to and among tbose legally entitled to the same, will attend for that purpose oh SATUR- D.'iY. the llth day of AOGUST, A. D., 1806, at 2 o'clock, p. m.. In the-Library Room oftlie Court House, in the city of Ijincaster, where all peroons interested In said distribution may attend. H. B. SWARR,
Jnl U-lt-ai Auditor.
NOTICE.
To tlie Heirs and legal Representatives of Jas. Robinson, late of Little Britain twp., '      Lancaster CO., Penna., dec'd. -\7-0U are hereby notified to bo and appear In
X the Orphans' Conrtiol Lancaster county, to be held on the 2)th day of AUGUST, 1868, nt IU o'cIock,a.ni., to accept or refuae to accept the real estate of James Boblnson, deceased, nt the valuation thereof, mode by an Inquest held thereon, and conflrmed hy said Court, or ahow- cause why the same should not bc sold accord- ing to law. . F. SMITH, Sheria;
SheriiT's Ofllce, Lancaster co.. Pa., July 7, 'till.
Jul 11- 4t-3t
ADniNISTIIATOR'S NOTICE.
Estate OfJohn McCallister, late of West
Lampeter twp., dec'd. T ETTERS of Admlnbitratlon on said est-ile JLi having been granted to tlie undersigned, all persona indebted thereto are requested lo make Immediate settlement, and those having claims or demands against the same will pre¬ sent them without delay for settlement to the undersigned, residing In said townahip.
DANIEL M. LANDIS, JuI7-6t« 33 Admlniatrator.
ADHINHSTBATniX' NOTICE.
Estate of Jacob Koch, late of Warwick twp., dec'd.
TETTERS of administration on said estate J having been grnnted to tbe undersigned, all persons Indebted thereto are requested to malre Immediate settlement, and thoaeliavlng claims or demands against the same wUl pre¬ aent them without delay for settlement lo the uadersigned residing In said township.
HANNAH KOCH, Administratrix. Or to JACOB KEMPEll, residing In Ephrata township. [Jul7-Bt    3:1
ADMI.VISTK.VTOB'S NOTICE.
Estate  of Elizabeth   Kunkle, late of
Eden township, deceased. y ETTERS of administration on said Estate 1 1 having been, granted to tbe undersigned, all persons Indebted thereto are requested to make Immediate payment, and those having claims or demands agaluiit the samewill pre¬ sent them forsettlement to the undersigned, residing In Sadsbury township.
SAMUfiL SLOKOM
Jnl7-6t33
Administrator.
AUDITOR'S NOTICE.
IN the matter of the Trust account of Jame Lynch, Trustee appointed by the Orphans Court to seU the rcaf estnte ofJohn Douglierty, late ofthe city of Lancaster, deceased, whicii account was read and conflrmed nisi by the Court onthe 18tli day of June, 18«J.
And now June 25th, ISCfi, on motion of Geo M. Kline, Esq., Court appoint Wm. Aug. Atlee Esq., Auditor to distribute the Interest of John S. Dougherty, dec'd. In tlie balauce of said ac¬ count.
Tile undersigned gives notice that he will sit for the purpose of his appointment In one of the Jury Rooms In the Court House In the city OfLancaster, on Sii.TURDAY, AUQDST 4tli, A. D., IStm, at 11 o'clock, a. m., when and where all parties interested are notlncd to attend. - WM. .\ua ATLEE.
Jul J-lt-33 Auditor.
EXECUTORS' NOTICE,
Estate of Jacob B. Kling, late of Lea¬ cook township, deceased. LETTERS Testamentnrj- on said estate hav¬ ing been granted to theundersigned, all per¬ sons Indebted thereto are requested to make Immediate payment, and those having claims or demands against the same will present lhem without delay for settlement to the undersign¬ ed, residing in said townsliip.
JAI - Jun m-Hfta
RACHEL KLING, JACOB F. EBY,
E.xecutors.
ADMINISTRATOR'S NOITCE.
Estate of John Grothund late of Lan¬ caster City, deceased. LKITERS of administration on said estate having been granted to the undersigned, nil per-sons Indebted thereto are requested to make Immediatescttlement, and those having clalma or demands ngainst tliesaine will present them without delay for settloment to the undersign¬ ed, BERENDINA GROTHUND.
Administratrix. June.50 01-32
PROPORTIONS OF THE HUJIAN FORM;
—The proportions of the human figure arc strictly mathematical. The whole figure is six times the length ofthe foot. AVhether the form be slender or plump the rule holds good; any deviation from it is a departure from the highest beau¬ ty in proportion. ,The Greeks made all their statues according to this rule.— The face, from the highest point of the forehead, whero the hair begins, to the chill, is one-tenth of the whole stature. The hand, from the wrist tothe middle finger, is the same. From the top of the chest to the liighest point in the forehead is a seventii. If the length of the face from the roots of the hair to the chin, be divided into three equal parts, the first division determines the place where the eyebrows meet, and the seoond the place of the nostrils. The height, frora the feet to tho top of the head is the same as the distance from the extremity of the fingers when the arms arc extended.
LEGAL  NOTICES.
EXECUTOB*S XOTICE.
Estate of  Henry Zook,   late  of East Lumpeter twp., dec'd.
I ETTERS tostamentarj* ou sold estate having J   been granted to tho uudersignod, nil per¬ sons Indebted thereto nrc requested lo make Iramediate   pajiucut, and  those   having de¬ mands agaiust the Niuno will present them for settlement to the underslKnecf executors, JAtOB K. ZOOK, K. Lampeter twp., Lan. co. JOHN P. M.VST. Jul IS-fit-^So Crcrnarvon twp., Uerks co.
XOTICE.
WHEREAS, on motion of D. W. Patterson, Es(£., attoruey forpetltionenj, an appUcar tiou has bcenmade to tho Court of Common Pleas of Laneastereounty, to grant a charter of Incorporation to the Congregation of tho United Brothrt-nlu Christ, iu the city of lin¬ caster, Lancaster countj', Pennsylvania, to be called nnd known hy the nnme, stylo nnd title of "THE CONGREGATION OF TllE UNJTED iUlETHREN IN CHRIST." Be It knovrn there¬ fore that the said Court will, on tho 3rd Mp^- l^AY In AUGUST, A. D., 18G«, at 10 o'clock, a. nu, If no sufflclent reason Is shown to the con¬ trary, decree and declare tliat tho persons so associated shall beeome and be a corporation or body politic, according to the articles and conditions In snld application set forth and
' At'Ss't!^- JOHN SELDOMRIDGE,
Jul I8-lt-35 Protlionotarj-.
AUDITOR'S XOTICE,
Estate of Thomas McCaualand, late of Colerain twp., Lan. cc, dec'd.
THE underslKned Auditor, appointed to dis¬ tribute the balance remiilnlng In the hands of Thomas Beyer, administrator ol the above estate, to aud among those legally entlUed to the snme, will attend for that purpose on THUHSDAY, the 10th day of AUGUST, A.D. IfitkJ, at 10 o'ciock, a, m.,iu the Library Room of the Court House, in the city of Lancaster where all peraona Interested In said dlatrlbu¬ tion may attend,.
AMOS MYLIN, JulyH-4t-»l^ Auditor.
AtTI>ITOB*S NOTICE.
The ossigneJi estate of Jo&. L. Wright • andWife.      '"
THE undersigned Auditor, appointed by the Court of Common Pleas ofLancaster county to:dl8t^lbuto lhe balanco remaining. In'the hands ofthe accountant, to and^amons; those legBJly entitled tothe saine. wlUSttendYonhat purpose ou FRIDAY, the liJth4}fiv of AUGUST. 1886/ at U o'clock, a. m.; ia,the Library Room of the. OouVt; Hotiae, in :the City of Iiancaster, where oil persons Interested in said dlatrlbu tion mayattend.
1 D. W, PATTERSON,
jull8-4t-35 Auditor.
Henry Houseal, adm'rl ofAb'mGelbaugh.dec'd,   Ap. T.,1S60.    No. II.
vs. ¦ t
John S. Grsii, et al. ex'ra    Execution Docket, of Jacob Gish, dec'd, Ac.
rpUE undersigned, auditor appointed to dis- X tribute the balauce of the proceeds of the above execution, now in court, will sit fot that purposeon TUESDAY, the Ulh dny of AUGUST next,ntiyo'elock, n. m., in the Library Room oftlie Court. House. In tlie city ofLancaster. A. WLAYSr.s.KEU,-Vii.lifnr June 2l8t, 1806. [jun23-Ct 31
ADMIXISTUATBIX'S XOTICE.
Estate of John McDonald, late of Co¬ lumbia Bor., Lanc'r CO., decM. LETTERS of administration, wIUx the "Will annexed, ou said estate, having been granted to the anderslgned, all persons indeht¬ ed thereto aro requested to make Immediate settlemeut, and those IiuvIhk chilms or de- mnnd.s ngniii-St tlie snme will present tliem withoutdelay forsettlement to the undersigned residing in snld borou;;h.
Mary sicdon.vld.
juu 20-Gt«31 Administratrix.
ADMIXISTBATOII'S XOTICE.
Estate of Jacob Brenenian, late of the Borough of Elizabethtown dec'd.
LETTERS of adminiatration ou said estate having beengranted to the undersigned, all persons Indebted thereto are requeiitedto make unmedlnlesettlement,and those havlngelainis or demands ngninsl the snme will present them witliout delay for settlement to tliy nudenigu- ed, residing In said village.
JOHX B. GISH, June20-qt*31  Adntiitij<tr»tor.
EXECUTOB'S XOTICE.
Estate of Thomas CoUiugwood, late of
JIanor townsliip, deceased. i T ETTTERS teslamentnry on snld e.statehaving JLiheen gnmted to the undcrsi^'ned, nil persons indebted thereto are reiiuesled to make imme¬ dinte settlement, nnd those having claims or demands .against tlie sumo will present them without delay for settlement to the undersign¬ ed, reaiding In said twp.
Jul i-(Jt*3.'J
JACOB S. WITMER, Executor.
AVDITOU'R XOTICE.
TN the matter of the appraisement and nc- JLceptanceof part of thu real CKtate of Juhn Dougherty, lale ofthe city of Laucaster, dec'd, by Mary A. McGrann.
And now, Juue 25th, lSGfl,ou motion of Geo, M. Kline, Esq,, attorney for judgnifiit cretli- tors, the Court appoint w in. Aug. Atlea, Esq.. Auditor to distribute tho share of Johu S. Dougherty now deceased in said vuluutlon moneys. .   ,
The undersigned gives notice that he will sit forthopurposcBof hi.s appoiniment In oneof ¦the Jury Rooms in Uie Court liouse In tlic city of Lanca.ster on SATURDAY AUGUST-lth, A D. ISCO, at 11 o'clock, a. m., when and whoru all parties interesled ure '\^i'^*^;5^{ij5'^^|«T"LEE,
J"l-l-^'^-*t-     Auditor.
AUOITOK'S XOTICi:.
Estate of Geo. Daley, late of the city of Lancaster, Pa., dec'd.
THE undersigned Auditor, appointed to dis- tritmie the balance remaining la tbe hnnd^ of Mitchel J, Weaver, Administrator de bonier non, C. T. A., to and among the heirs and legal representatives of said dec'd, wUi attend for that purposeon SATURDAY, the llth day ot AUGUST, iiWfl. at2o'cIoek. p. m„ in the Llbm- ry Room of tho CourtHouse, In the city of Imncaster, where all persons Interested In said dlstrlbuUon may atteud.
D. -W. PATTERSON, Juy 11-lt-^  Auditor
DIRHOLVTIOX.
TTHE copartnership heretofore existing be- X tween LEWIS II. CALDER & HEXRY It.. BRENEMAN. under the flrm of Calder & Co., Is dissolved bythe death of Lewis H. Calder. H, R, BRENEMAN, July 2, ISOO, Surviving Partner.
COPARTNERSHIP NOTICE.
C, Amnndus Ehler, Henr5-R.-Breneraan, nnd Johns.Breneman,having purchased tho in¬ terest of L,H. Calder, dee'd, lu tlie business of Calder & Co., have this day fonned a copart- nerslilp under the name and style of—
EHLER» BRENEMAN & CO., for the purpose of carrying on the COAL BUSI¬ NESS as heretofore, .       .   , .
AU parties knowing themselves Indebted to the late flrm of Calder & Co,, will settle with the undersigued, and those having claims on the same wfil present them for miyment.
H-aBRENEkAN, Jull8-2t-3a J.S. BRENEMAN.
COPABTXEB8HIP XOTICE.
THE undersigned have this day entered Into ft copartnership, nnder the name of— ¦ MYERS & RATHFON, forthe purpose of .carrying on the Tailoring Business lu aU its branches, nt the southeast- corner of Centre Square and East, King St,,, Lancaster, Pa, __     "'' •
Julya,lB66, SAAI'L M. MYEES, > ¦ ,
JullMt-3.5 JACOB RATHFON.