Lancaster Examiner and Herald

              VOLXLIV.
1^4,1 TOJRJSISDAY, APM^
SlXAinilVER & MJEBAILD.
fDBLISHID E7EE1 WEMIESDAT At no. 4 Horti Queen Street, L»nc«»ter,P»
TEIMtS-S2.00 A TEAH IX AWVASCB,
JOHN A. HIEST-iND iS E. M. KLINE, Editors and rroprielors.
¦ BEATTimn. CHIID.
BY MAJOR ^^I.1,IAJI A. It. SiaouiWEY.
Jlittltor 0/ "Jleantifill Hiilni'.-'
Beautlfnl cliiid on lliv mi>tlicr'.s itnpc-. Iu llie myslli: fnturu wliul will llion lie? A demon nf sin, or nn amiei snlillinu- A pulsoQ Upas, or Inmicehl Tliyiue— A spirit ofuvll naslilnB itoii'ii Willi llie lurid llBlil of a lUiry crown—
lli^T^^i^f^^ltS'Sfii^&oU.MaeK. DalnUcsl dreaniitr that over snilleil ¦\VUleli will lllou lio, luy beauliful ihlid? Boaullfnl clilld In niyBanleii bowers, FrIiMiil of liio butlerllii-.s. birds nml llowers, Pure .IS tli« spartillnB. i-lirysl:illue stroaln, .tewelsof Iruili in Uiy fairy eyes bcnin, Was Ilicre ever a whiter soul tiiau tlliiic Wiirsliipt'od by 1-ove in a morUil shrine-: -My heart tliou hast Kladdeuea for two slvcct
years AVllh rainbows of Hope thiougll mist of tears— Jlisls lieyond whieh ihy .suuuy snillo Wilh its lialo ot Klory beaius nil the whilo.
Beaulifnl child, to tliv loolc Is sivcu
A .,;lanco seiene, uol of eartli, lint of Heaven,
With thy tell-tale eyes ami priittlluK loiiBue,
Wonld tJiou couidst ever thus ho vounu.
Like the liiiuld strain of llie moeking-bird,
Vlom suiir to liall ihy volee Is heard?
How oft iu the sardeii nooks Ihou'rl found
Willi llowers thy eurly head around 1
And Uneelius beside ine with Iliiure .so quaint.
Oh! wiio would not dote ou my lutaut saiul?
r.e.-iutifnl child, what thy falc shall he Pciehauce is wisely hidden Irom mc. A fallen star tliiiu iiiay.s'l leave hy luy side. And ol sorrow mill shame become iho bride- .SlilverlnK, quivering throUBh Ihe cold street, Wilh a enise behind and before thy feet— Aslianicd to live and ufniid Io die; Ko home, no friend, and a plliiess .sky. Merciful Kalher, my lirnin ijrows wild— Oh, keep from evil my beautiful child!
Beautiful child, mnvst lliou soar above,
A wnrhllng ehenili of Jov and love,
A drop on Eternity's miglity sea,
A blos.som on Life's Immortal tree—
Ploaltnir, tlowerlnK evermore.
In tlie blc-sed IIrIii or the (!Ol.lcn shore;
AuU OR 1 |^.iy.e on lliv sinless htooin.
And thy rialiilnt face, lliey dispel luy gloom—
1 feci lie win lieep llieo undeHled,
Aud Ills love prolocl my beauliful child.
[Wriilen for tlic'Ei«^iln7r & Herald. THE CHUaCH OF DONEGAL
NO. III. " Old grim Kchooili.iusc, thou art still the same. There's tlie very sups so oil I've niounled ; And the windows cieakinKlu tlieir frames, Aud the notches that I ent and connteil,
For tho game. Old grlmsciiooihousclhouartstlll tliesamo."
Early iu the history <if tlie Douegnl Churcli, the .settlei's, nml the member.s of the eougregutioii, besan to think of the more couvenicnt etiucatiou of the generations that were raisingup around them. I believe it is not known, to a certainty, when or where the (irst school wxs organized, or the lirst schoolhouse was erected, in the township of Doue¬ gal. A log schoolhouse was built, and a school was kept, more than eighty years ago, on the Lowry farm. In a little cleared enclosure, nearthe "Evan Spring," and now partly included iu " Duiry's Park." Another schoolhouse was built on the Newtown (Drytown) road, near the "Old Henry Hies¬ tand farm," aud a school wns kept thero for many years back, but neither of these was as ancient as that at Donegal In the year 1772, aud fouryeats before the United States colonies becamoadistinct nation by the Declaration of Independence, and the seven years' war which suc¬ ceeded it, a log schoolhouse was built near tbe Old J.)i)ncgal Church, and a parochial school was orgauized. This house was oue story aud a half high, with a door in the east eisil, aud a large fire-place in the west eud. The roof W.IS covered with hoards. It had also a board lloor, and had four windows.— The logs out of which it was huilt were cut on the premises, and were of oalc. Doubtless the roof, the Iloor, and the school furuiture were of the same kiud of wood; and if sawed lumber was used in the erection of the building, it probably may have been olitaineil at the old saw-mill, which stood many years ago, near wltat is now kuown as " Hoaruer's Jlill," ou the Jtarietta and Mouut Joy " I'ike." Part of the .skele¬ ton of the old saw-mill was still staud- Ing in my early boyhood,—about lifty years ago, or even later. 1 have uo rec¬ ollection of a saw-mill in tlie lownship of East Donegal, older than thtit one. It is e-'ceeeditigly doubtful whether there is a single person uow residing in Donegal townsliip, who was a student at thelinstschool, and iu the lirslschool- house. If there are any, they must now be more tlian "four score aud teu," if uot a hundred years old.
Among the early Teachers, in the Douegal school—witliout attempting to give a true chronological series, as to dates—were the following, ami these probably, at that period, ouly taught during the winter seasou: John Gohn, Johu Makee, Patrick Metiuin, An¬ thony Verner, James McGIothliu, Eob¬ ert Garret, Walter Dell, Felty Wiscope, Eobert Carr, John JlcCleary, James Dutley, Johu Philebawu, Timothy Co- burn, llobert Friginan, Arthur Frig- rnan, John McGurvey, llichard Jlegee, Alexander Jlegee, James Charles, Jno. McKiuney, Joliu Hamilton, llichard Forrestall, Terry Jones, Joseph JIcKin- ney, Joseph JedVies, and otliers. The instruction in this school did not con- flue itself to the usuid routine of schools, at that tlay, but it also incul¬ cated the ilocti'iues of the I'resbyteriau Church. Kvery Saturday the children were examined in the "shorter Cate¬ chism," by the teachers, and the pa¬ rents, and often by the pastors, and the trustees, closing with prayer. Once a week, duriug the winter, tbe teachers held a night school, for the ticcommo- dation of thoso who could not atteud oftener. The old oak arm-chair, lirst used iu the church, was afterwards used by the teachers in this school. James McClelland and William Galbreath were the two last teachers who tauglit in the first school building. About the year 1812, the old building was demol¬ ished, and a new one was erected—I have no reliable data, it may have been later. This building was put up un¬ der thesuperiulendence of the Trustees, consisting of Michael Hoover, John Clark, James Whitehill, Capt. Ephraim Moore and John Watson. It Wiis built south-west of the grave-yard, a story and three-quarters high, and of pine logs. It had one door in the east end, and had eight windows. The roof was covered wilh shingles, and the floor, the desks and the benches were of pine, the latter running east aud west. A wood stove was substituted for the lire- place. The school waa susUiined by weekly or monlhly subscriptions, for as yet there was uo public school law in Peunsylvaula. These subscriptions were sometimes as low as two ccnfc, and hut rarely onee two dollars, according to the pecuniary cii'cumslances of the parenrs at tlie time. Of course, people who had no childreu, generally con¬ tributed nothing, for there were no school laws, aud cousequently uo school taxes then. Subsetiuently ji law was passed by which the County Commis¬ sioner had the powerto designate a cer¬ tain number in each family, who uiight be educated//'cc, and these were ciilled "poor scholars," (sometimes reproach¬ fully,) aud thus tlie system became odious. After the new schoolhouse was finished, and the school was in op¬ eration again, the Teachers were John McKinsey, John Hamilton, Jno. Guise, Joseph JellVics, Joliu Thomp.son, John Hayes, Hugh MiGliilhlin, Kobt. Hun¬ ter, Patrick Furnace, John I3eoker, John Kelky, Samuel Patterson, from Ireland; Horace Alleman, Samuel AUeman, John Pain, Jacob Zigler, Henry Hoover, Joseph .leinies, jr., Abraham l^oiig and John Stoner.
Among these teaeheis, there is onlv one to whom I can assinn a date, anil that one ouly approxiimitely. Tlie winters of 1S24, l.Si'i, and )S'2(i, I passed in the employ of James McGinnis ou tho ICcrr Purm. During cue of these Winters, Robert Hunter taught school at Donegal, anil " boarded round," among the parents of his scholars. This was the usual custom al that pe¬ riod among the country "schoolmtis- ters;" remaining generally one week at a time, at auy ])lacc. During that winter Ilobert Hunter boarded two weeks, at two dillerent times, in the family of Mr. McGiuni.s. 1 remember very little more ofMr. Hunter than this bare fact. He had previously taught .aschool in Slarietta. He was a medium sized man, was considered a good teaeli- -er;, hut, if I recollect rightly, he sometimes became "very mellow," and had some excentricities of character. But tbcso were priviliges, whieh men, occupying distinguished positions, iu those days, claimed as special preroga¬ tives, and did not seem to be very pre¬ judicial to character. School teachers. Mien, much;itiore than now, were look¬ ed upon,as "oracles," aud were recog- : nized as a power in tho land. Au anec¬ dote is related of a schoolmaster who
claimed to be the "Euler of the Par¬ ish," notwithstanding a certain Duke, claimed sole jurisdiction therein. He asserted his claims something m this wiae, namely: I'm ruler of the chil¬ dren, the children rule their moyicrs, and the mothers rule thelr/a<Aer8, and hence I'm ruler of the parish." It ap¬ peared to be a "little in this way," at that time, for certainly it was within the prerogative of the ." Qflioa: Dame," to recieve the person of the scUoolinas- ter as a boarder in the family or to re¬ fuse him altogether.
Donegal township was among the flrst to adopt the different school sys¬ tems, that were promulgateti by the Legislature of the State. Under the auspices of the Public Sehoool System of the State, in 1851, John M. Hoover, Joseph Nisley, and Dr. Natlianiel Wat¬ son were appointed a committee by the " Board of Directors," to erect a new schoolhouse at Donegal, for this school had passed from the exclusive jurisdic¬ tion of the Donegal congregation to that of the township or district, under the laws of the Stato of Peuusylvauia— and to secure a part of the bequest of " Old John Scott," which, by his " last will ,ind testament," he had demised to tlie school-fund of Douegal township. The house was built of brick, and one and three-quarter stories high, with six windows and a transom-window above the dnor, adding new desks and bench¬ es, a blaek-boaril and maps. Tliis is the present schoolhouse aud was erect¬ ed a little north aud nearer the church than the site of the old one. After the erection of the new building, tht; teach¬ ers were sucee.isivelv the following: Henry Hoover, Chri-stian Nisley, .Tos. Forry, Douglass Patterson, H.' Fletch¬ er, Johu Beshler, John Marple, John JLirple, jr., Anthony Watson, .Toseph Johnson, in 1S03, and William Zarr.— German was taught by Chrislitin Nis¬ ley, nud in ISli!), Isaac Wills taught an English and German singing school. The present Directors are Mr. Shank, Mr. Hershey, Benj. Hershey, Christian Snyiler and Andrew Armstrong.
Before the adoption of our present school syslem, the Court appointed the following trustees of the Cliurch acom- inittee to visit the schools oncein every six months, namely: Johu M. White- hill, John M. Hoover, Uev. Peter Nis¬ ley, Jacob Garber, Abraham Long, George Ferree, John Miller, William Slaymaker, John Bowman, Dr. John Woodhull, and Dr. Natlianiel Watson. In 1S57, the following were Trustees, n.amely: Amos Slaymaker, Sam'l Eeil- sccker, Peter Nisley, Christian Garber, Christiau Snyder and Benjamin Gar¬ ber. The present trustees are James B. Clark, Jacob Graybill and Andrew Armstrong. There are raanj' omissions in these records, and doubtless many misplacements of names and evenis, but r have not the ability to supply the one, or to correct or transiiose the other. It may be useful to i)lace this much ou record, for future reference and correc¬ tion.
Among the Sextons of Donegal, I find the following n.imes: F. Haines, Abm. Haines, Jacob Kani, Henry Pence, Joel Hailowell, Jos. H.agley, Widow Keener, Noah Ebersole and Christian Ebersole. But this must necessarily bo a very im¬ perfect list, and does not include auy of theearlierones, if the congregation had such an ollicer from its first organiza¬ tion. It is more than likely, however, that they had; because the " Donegal Burying Ground," was one of the first —if it was uot the very first—consecra¬ ted to the sepulture of the dead, in the township, and mauy of the names that occur in these papers, may be found graven ou theold, dingy, and moss cov¬ ered monuments and tomlistoiies, that mark the places, where those who bore tliem were buried. A rough losv stone wall surrounils this burying grouml at the present time, and, on the wliole, it retains its ancient apjiearance, which is not at all in liarniony with the modern and improved conditiou of the church and the school house. It appears that the brick "study house" was built in 1807, a stoiy and a half high, which was improved in the latter ilays of Mr. Kerr's time l.CO, anil enlarged in 1.S.51. The poetical quotation, at the head of this paper, will not apply, with the same empli.isis, to the jyresent scliool house, as it would have to those that proceeded it.
SUNDAY  SCUroOl,.
The Sunilay School of the Donegal congregation wns organized and put in operation in 1827, and the lirst teachers were Rob't Hunter, Natlianipl Watson, Amos Slaymaker, Mrs. Mary Whitehill, Mrs. Jfargaret Patterson, Jlrs. Jane Porter and Margaret Barton ; superin¬ tended by Rev. Orson Dougltis. Subse¬ quently John Markley, sr., Jno. Mark- ley, jr., C. Nisley, Jno. Fletcher, Adam Fletcher, Isaac Wills, and others; the last named a teacher of a German autl English singing school. A long inter¬ val occurs, of which I waa not able to obtaiu any records. In ISHO and subse¬ quently under the superintendence of Rev. Johu J. Lane, tlie following were teachers, James P. Watson, Anthony Watson, John Armstrong, William Armstrong, Joseuh Engle, Mary C. Watson, Charlotte Walson, Priscilla Slaymaker, Mary Slaymaker, Jacob Cassel, Nathanial Breneman, Solomon Hoover, Isaac Hoover, Andrew Arm¬ strong, Joseph Hagley, jr., ami Amos .Slaymaker, jr. Singing scliool nnder Isaac Wills also in ISGfl.
Seven years before a Sunday School h.ad been organized at Donegal, one had been put in operation in Marietta. It may have been only five or six ycars before, I only judge from olher circum¬ stances connected with it. For instance, itwas first opened, or at lenst I first became a scholar in it, when it was held iu the long one-story brick build¬ ing opposite Mr. Rudlcill's residence, on High street; aud this was before even Ihe foundation ofthe Old Presby¬ terian Church on the hill in Gay street, was laid. I have no distinct recollec¬ tion who the chief conductor, or the teachers were when the school was first opened, but I think it may have been Rev. Mr. Kerr, a sliort period before his death. After the church was huilt the school was held there, on Sunday afternoons. Rev. Mr. Douglass wus then ils superintendent or leading apirit. Janies Wilson, Johu Wilson, James Siaele, James Sterrit, and Rob¬ ert Agnew, were among the male teachers. I cannot recall the female teachers, if there were any, bnt think that Mrs. Douglass was one, when the school was first organized, or when it was first held in the Presbyterian Cliurch. Subsequently Thomas Dickey, Jr., Thomas McCalian, Jacob Stabl, and others became teachers, but as I ouly make this statement here, as one ofthe legitimate sequences of the old congregation of Donegal, I cannot enter any further into the early histo¬ ry of this school.
As no history is entirely reliable, ex¬ cept that which is based npon legally authenticated records, mnde at tlie time the evenis described are said to have transpired, therefore these papers, as before intimated, so far as they are predicated upon mere human memory, must be taken -with a charitable mar¬ gin for errors and omissions, as well as entire misstatements. If aome of the most profound and intellectual minds of tlie preseut iige, are calling in ques¬ tion, not only the authorrsliip of the writings of the "Bard of Avon," but also the very existence of Shakespeare himself, and if others, equtilly pro¬ found, are eliminatingall the historical romance from tlie life and t'haracter of our own Poealiontas, it would not be surprising to lind thoso who may be able to give a diflTerent phase to the his¬ tory of Wic Cliurch of Donegal, even if it was based upon no higher authority tlian their own imperfect memories. This is Ihe status of much of the liis¬ lory of the world, tind with these quali¬ fying remarks I close these remiiies- ceuces. GllANTJLLUS.
Atavery snccessful seance in Cin¬ cinnati the olher uight, a man bur.st iii¬ to tears when the medium described veiy accurately a tall, blue-eyed spirit standing by him, with light side whis¬ kers and his hair parted in the middle. " Do yon know him ?" inquired a man at his side, in a sympathetic whisper. "Know him? I guess I do," replied the unhappy man, wiping his eyes. ' He was engaged to my wife. If ho hadn't a died he would have beeii her hiisband instead of me. Oh, George, George," he murmered, in a voice clio- ked with emotion, "why, did you peg out?"
Little three year-old Mary was play¬ ing very roughly wiUi the kitten-car¬ rying it by the tail. Her mother told herthatshe wouldhurt pussy. " Why, no, I won't," snid she ; " I'm carrying it by the handle."
The word "State" spelled backwards is Etatsiu French. It is not .stife.how- ever, to, understake to learn French simply by goiiig back on your English.
THE JUDGE'S FiaST LOVE.
Whom flrst we love, you know, we seldom ¦wed I lOiven llereaUh.
A round face covered with big brown freckles; a nose inclined to the snub, covered with the biggest and brownest of tho freckles; tan-colored hair that had little affinity forthe comb; hands not over.clean ; bare feet, with one toe .done up.ina.'rag; apatcli. on onekneb and a very thin spot in theeloth on the other: th is is the daguerreotype of my¬ self, aged ten years.
A delicate lace with dimples ill the cheeks; eyeslike pednta violets; brown hair fastened back with a long comb, but curling at the ends; little hands th.at could he crushed like white lilies; dainty feet encased in white stockings ami gaiter boots, a pink gingh.am dress nnd white apriin : this is the daguerre¬ otype of the angel whom I ailoreil, Ma¬ ry Jane, ageti eight years.
For further jiarticulnrs, Jfary Jane lived "on the street," in a white house with green blinds, and a deep dooryard with yellow roses in front. Mary Jane's father kept store, and was a mighty man in the place. He once gave me a cent for piling np the empty boxes in liis back store. I lived back of thesoap factory, in a browu house one story high, with a loft above and a bed-room built on the rear, but no dooryard in front. IMy father was a farmer; he owned ten acresof swale meadow Itind, and five acres of bog pasturing. He was a shoemaker; he mado shoes for our family, pegged for the shoe factory at the corner, and capped boots for the men who worked in the tannery. He was also at intervals a tanner, a lye- leacher, anil a speculator in spavined horses. Sometimes he throve in busi¬ ness and sometimes not.
Mary Jane was an only daughter. She could have cream toiiat and cus¬ tards every dnyof her life if slie wisheil. I was number eight iu an indefinite series of children, and when jobs were plenty ami rye whisky was clieap, 1 had all the mush and potato I wanted; when business was dull and whisky high, I weut home at noon with any little boy who was likely to havo plum pudding or mince pie for dinner, aud watch him eat it.
Nol withstanding the disparities of social rank, Mary Jane smiled on me. I gave her all the mud-turtle eggs I found; I presented her with bunches of young checkerberry leaves tied up wilh yaru raveled out of my winter stockings; and saved the molasses that belonged to my portion of mush to can¬ dy sweet flag iu for her. The cent that I earned of Mary Jane's father I invest¬ ed in a "sugar kiss," which I presented to the daughter behind the schoolhouse entry door. Mary Jane liked the "sugar kiss," and brought five to school in the afternoon. It wasn't altogetheragreea- ble to me that she could obtain them so easily ; hut she drew a picture of a boy Willi a long chin and hair that stood up straight and said tliat was my rival, Sammy Sloper; and that pictorial rep¬ resentations restored my spirits.
Blarj' Jane aud I quarreled. Bubject, a slate pencil an inch and a half long, split lengthwise aud sharjiened oil'at both ends. The pencil was iu my pos¬ session.
Flora Elizabeth Stiles saitl that wns her pencil.
I said it wasu't.
Mnry Jane said she knew that Avas Flora's pencil, 'cause she had seen her have it.'
I said it wasn't. It was my own.; I'd h.-id it for amoiith.
Mary Jane .said I needn't toll that to her; she knew it was Flora's pencil.
I said I knew it wasn't.
Mary Jane etdled me alittle thief!
I called Mary Jane a littlo liar!
She said I was the ineamst, nastiest, halefulest fellow she ever saw.
I aaid she was the proudest, silliest, worst dispositioneil girl that ever lived.
She said sho htitcd nie, and iilways should.
I said if she hated mc any worse than I did her, 1 ahould like to know it.
We went down to, the brook to play that afternoon. Mary Jiine made the first overtures for a reconciliation; by betting that I daren't jum]), across the brook; I said I dare, and accomplished the feat, lamliug one foot oil tlie bank aud the olher in tlitj water. Then I puta hoard across for Miify Jane to walk over.
ilary Jaitc and I angled forminnows in adjacent water.s. she caught her pin on an old log and straightened it. Slie asked me to come ami crook it for her, and while I wasdoingthatshetohl me she didn't mean anything by what she s.-iid to mc about that pencil, nud I said tliat I didii't mean iinytliiiig by what I said to her. We biitli. agreeil that Flora Elizabeth was an unprinci¬ pled person, entirely unworthy of our regard. I also referred to Sanimy Slo¬ per as an indiviilual of very orilihary -ibilities, and Mary Jane fully concur¬ red with me. After tluit wo caught our minnows in the snme pool. I ctir- ried Mary Jane iiboutaquarterof birch bark peeled from the stick and rolled up in a newspaper tho next niorning, and when we played "round the ring," she chose me every time.
* -> * * ¦»
A boy, tall for his .Ige, faco thin, freckles, owing to untiring application of lemon juice, fainter color than form¬ erly, hair on intimate terms with the comb tmd ox marrow scented with co¬ logne, clothes only preserved from ptUclies by great care; painful unctsr- lainty felt in regard to the disposal of the handa and feet; strong tendency to blush on the slightest provocation—this is myself, aged seventeen.
A delicately moulded figure, browu curls fastened back wilh a blue ribbon, or a string of red coral; big bine eyes that could beam very enthusiastically upon an embarrassed, awkward boy, or very easily frighten him wilb their mischief; a liltle nose, subject to ele- vtitions very depressing in their influ¬ ence upou lowly admirers; red lips, from betweeu which issued all mau¬ ner of spirited sayings, and which closeil over a handsome set of teeth— this is Mary Jane, aged fifteen, the maiden whose glove and gaiter were sacred to me.
At this period of my life I also lived, "on the street." I did chores for my board at Judge Pettigrew's, and went to school. Maty Jane's home was next to the Judge's, uud I had the supreme felicity each night of carrying home her arithmetic and slate for her. Both iMary Jane and Mary's father smileil on me at this time; the latter narrated for my benefit biographical sketches of persouages who had once been poor bi).vs, pointing e.ich one wilh tlie origi¬ nal moral that the poorest boy may rise to distinction.
For the last two years it liad been my ambition to go to college. I confided the secret to JIary Jane, aud she encour¬ aged me Willi a very grave compeudium of her father's dissertation ou " distin¬ guished men once poor boys." It sound¬ ed very wise and very pretty from her li|is. She also several tinies ess.ayed to assist me to calculate the expense of a collegiate course, but owing to some difliculty in "pointing oil;" it never came out twice alike.
JMary Jane nnd I performed examples in partial payments together. She wore a blue inerino dress ou theseoQea- sions. When we were casting up i nlerest together, her brown curls sometimes fell agaiust my cheek, she put her rosy fingers over my browu ones to point out mistakes. I could not understand why all the class but Mary Jane aud I should like partial payments.
My hnppiuess would have been com¬ plete at this period of my life, but for iho existence of Sammy Sloper. Slo- perthcelder hnd been prosperous in bus¬ iness, aud Sammy wore better clothes than I; lie also.carried a watch and chain ; still worse, he had a horse and sleigh of his own, in which he conld take Mary Jane lo ride. He did take Mary to ride. 1 waS;shoveling snow iu front of Jude PeUigiew's Iiouse, ami saw them go by.   it was harrowing!
Sammy preseiiteti her with a gold ring, tlie design of which svus two hearts united. Tlitit was still more harrow¬ ing! Sammy wtilkcd home from sing¬ ing school with her one night when I had tlie inUueuza and wasnlt there. He ulso walked home with Iter from il Thursday night prayer nieeliug when I WlUi there. When 1 went into Mary Jane's fatlier's the next eveniug, my eyes were greeted by Sammy and ilary Jane bending over the same slate. Mary Jane's culrs touched Sammy's'check jnst as they had mine! Slary Jane said there w:ui plenty of room for me. I accepted it with a melamiholy. sniile, designed to show that I wasn't Jealous. I tried to cipher, but couldn't tell whiit the cube root of eight was ; said X had tlie headache, and went home.' The moon looked like a pale; told oVb, and I believed the next morning'that'1'liadn't slept any iUI night. ¦    .'i.r. .
¦ Mai'y Jane pasiied me a note'in her
grammar the next day; tri which she tenderly asked after my headache, arid It was too bad to leave her all the even¬ ing with that stupid Sammy Sloper.
My heart felt clearei;,
Mary Jane also made fiin of the ring with the two heatts on it; and life re¬ sumed Its customary, brightness.of:as- Lpect. ,:I,expen(leA<i parfepf niy.hoariied , savings in a plain gold band for.Mary J Jane's finger. Her name "Ahd"infne| were engraved in the inaida,: Sbe'said that plain ring suited her taste the best.
ilary Jane and I studied the Latin grammer together that winter, and re¬ cited to the minister four times a week, two mornings and evenings. I enjoyed the evening recitation best. Wie con¬ jugated aino together at Mary Jane's father's. Mary Jane.asked me to hear her recite the lessou, and went through all the modes and tenses with gretit simplicity. I asked her to hear me,and nimeil to go througli with them con ex- prcisionc. 1 caught a glimpse from out tlie violet eyes when the conjuga¬ tion wns finished, and when I went home that night the moon was a calm, peaceful luminary. I knew thenext morning tliat I hadn't slept any that uight.
We did finely with monco ugo audio and miroc, but the evening we went over to Dr. Prose's to recite the peri- plirastic conjugation, Mary Jane be¬ came confused, mixed up amautus sim with amanilus sum woefully, and couldn't tell the diffijrcuoe betweeu 'turns cs-ic aud '<lus faissc. Dr. Prose had been at work on a sermon reconcil- iug tho tirst chapter of Genesis with geology, and had no surplus of patience. Jlary Jane's lip quivered, and fiually she broke dowu and cried. I went through tho cojugation by note; men¬ ially pronouncing Dr. Prose a hard- licarted old wretch, and congratulating myself that I was not going to study theology. After we left the study I comforted Mary Jane, and was moved to a declnratiou wliich was not iu Latin —neither was her response iu Latin.— After that, she sent mo a uote in her grammar every day, and I iuclosed my replies in the spelliug book. I felt like patronizing poor Sammy Sloper.
A year more and I was goiug to col¬ lege, no maiter how—American boys go lo college by a great variety of meaus. I was going to win laurels there to lay ut Mary Jane's feet. I was going to af¬ terwards win fame, that it might shed its lustre around Mary Jaue's head. I was going to he wealthy that I might gratify Mary Jane's tastes. Mary June weut 10 boarding school. She wus very anxious to improve her mind, that she uiight be fitted for the elevated positiou in which I should place her.
We held our farewell interview un¬ der a Balm of Gilead tree, in the rear of Mary Jane's house. It was a very tender little aflfair. Mary Jane slied a great many tears, and at certain points 1 studied the veining of the Biilm of Gilead leaves very closely. Wc com¬ forted each other, however. We were very brave, very hopeful, very confid¬ ing. Tho parting was very much like the parting of all young and gushing lovers, I supposed, but at the time it appeared very peculiar.
We exchanged letters four times a week. Mary Jane liad a grent mnny little cnres and anxieties about me, or was in a slate of deep self-abasement. She.wrote a great many funny things and a great many things which she evidently considered just a little wick¬ ed, and wliich' I thought very smart. Her Sunilay evening letters are very gootl nud very pious, and ahe wanted me to be very good and pious, and I always felt that I was, for Mary Jane was the divinity I worshiped.
A smooth, ruddy face—a face that ex¬ pressed ambition and enthusiasm- mouth a little too self-reliant, jierhaps, .¦i clear eye, hair that lay smooth with¬ out the intervention of the ox marrow, careful toilets, iuoflensive assurance lu manners, readiness in conversation.- Thlsisa photogrtiph of myself; aged twenty-two.
; A graceful little figure above the average hight; a complexion which I compared to tliat of pearls, rose leaves ami the brows of heather gotidesscs and cherubic and sertiphic existence imiis- crihiinalely ; eyes that hatl litlle else than heaven in them, but nose of a more terrestrial character; brown hair Ihat curleil around the faee and was fastened behind by combs; a mouth tlmt coulil be pressed or puckered, ilrawn np or down, smile or pout,with a grace that was alwaya .and equally charhiing. This is a photograph of Jlary Jane; aged twenty; the being whom I had been known fo declare made "earth a heaven, and living bliss for nie." .
At this period I had just gradunled from college. 1 was not a valeilietorian after the respectable piefeilent estab- lisheil by poor boys, and thus far pre- sunitions for my future success in life was in my favor. I said iu my com¬ mencement oration tliat the real laur¬ els of life were yet to be won by the un¬ tiring, courageous ellbrts of resolute wills, and when wo had won them— siich only as God grant we should care to win-unfading as oiir own laurels grown ou our granite liillsides, and waleretl by the dews of lieaven, we would ever wear them consecrateil to the high trust of ennobling humanity.
Mary Jane sat in the corner during my oratorical hursts. She wore pink barege and a pink silk bonnet, .and I thought I had never seen a more love¬ ly creature. When I fiistened in my button hole the dainty boquet she had flung me, I felt like a leader in the tirst Crusade, bearing my mistress' colors, and ready to .storm Jerusalem single handed, if need be.
Mary Jane's father invited me to ride home from the commencement in his carriage. The moonlight was en¬ chanting, and I could have ridden with Mary Jane alone. I shouldn't have been jiarticular about the " laurels of life;" but it waa warm, the carriage small, and Mary Jane's father squeezed in between my angel ami myself. He was a heavy man, and he led the cou- versation on classical tliemes, a smat¬ tering of w^hich he had picked up from odd volumes nt intervals in the dry goods and other grocer.v business, anil that also was heavy. Mary Jane went to sleep in the corner of the carrige, and talked in monosyllable, and tried to remember what Bisliop Butler saya about life beingastateof discipline.
1 rend a little hiw wilh Judge Petti- grew, that summer, and a deal of jioet- ry with Mary Jane. I delivered an ad¬ dress at a Sabbatli school picnic, read a jioem at an agricultural fair nntl became otherwise distinguished. I hniln't a doubt ill regard to my future. When Sammy Slojier again apjieared upon the stage, Sammy reported himself ns being in business with a wealthy uncle in New York. He spent money freely, and wore a heavier watch aud cliain than I ever dreamed of. Mnry Jaue said thatshe thought Sammy had im¬ proved, butshe never quite approved of his principles. 1 .should have resented il strongly if any one had dared nssev- ernte tliut I could doulit Mnry Jane, bul I was glad that she appended tbnt last clause.
hjainmy liiredacarringe and.span from the city, aud Mary Jaue went to ride with him one evening. She had the headache and thought it would do her good.
I said nothing.
Snnimy nttendoil her home, from church, twoor three times; presented her with a beantiful boquet, ami took her to rille agaiu
1 rcmonstratetl.
Mary Jane replied thatshe acknowl¬ edged no right to censorship over lier actions in such a slight maiter as the accejitaneeof a few flowers, and a ride Willi au ohl school friend.
larguedthatcircumstaneesmadeitno small mutter.
She remarked that of all jjcrsons, a jealous lover was tho most contemp¬ tible.
I said that no (tuo lady would have ticcejileil the attention tliat Sloper had jiaid her.
She stud that I was overhearing and impertinent.
1 said she was shallow hearted and cruel.
After that we jiassed in the atreet wilhout .seeing each other. Mary Jane held herjiarasol between herself .ind me wilh as much persi.steucy as ifl lind been a withering sun.. I walked with a very lirm step and a dignifled air.— She rode ont wilh Sammy Sloper every day, and Sloper viciously exulted iu driving those bloodetl black horses paat Judge Pettigrew's ofllce, or dashing contemjitnbusly by the little house back ofthe soap factory. I jihilosophizeil grimly ou the coM truth that humble virtue shall nt last meet its reward- very little did I care for that, if the re¬ ward wasu't Mary Jane.
Afterafortnight'sexperienceof view¬ ing thecarth as ashes and the sky as
leai, I saunfered down ia abend in the brook beyond tho grist mill, one after¬ noon, to refleot'ln solltnde. At the same hour of the'day,'Mary! Jane: wended her way down to the bend in the brook, beyond the grist mill; that,she too might enjpy Bolitapr reflectipna. She came out from' be'yobti acliinip of alders pen¬ sively, ¦while 1 ¦was'savagely .'striding .upland doyvpiundecja buttqriwood.tree. Ode reoognitloii was-instSntaneous.. 1 saw thatliad there been a plaukacross the stream at that point she would have rushed into'my arms. I sprang over the cruel waters and wet one foot, but clasped Mary Jane to my heart.
She said she'd been so miserable it seemed as if she could die.
I said I had cursed tho liour I spoke those harsh words to her, a thousaud times.
She said that it was all her fault, her own fault, anil that she liad been per¬ fectly miserable since I left her that night, and that ahe waa .so sorry, and ashamed, and would I ever forgive her?
I said that she Was my love, my dar¬ ling, my angel, my—well I used up the usual vocabulary.
She snid that she hated Sammy Slo¬ per—perfectly haled him, and always should, and thnt I never, never should have occnsion to reprove her again for receivingundueattcntion from any one. She sobbed so much that I was greatly ilistressed, but my terms of endear¬ ment only seemed to have an exhilera- ting efl'ect upon lier tears. We walked up the stream to the point where we had flshed for minnows a dozen years before, and I pointed out the old log ou which ahe atraightened lier pin, a little more decayed tmd witli more green aiimo around it, but the identical old log. We walked by the brotik and sat under the buttonwood tree, until after Mary Jane's mother hail probably be¬ gun to worry about "the dew" aud Mary Jane's feet.
As wewent into the street, the detest¬ able Sloper lolled by in his carriage. Perhaps my bow was a trifle trium¬ phant. I put my liand in my pocket and snapped my lingers. Mary Jane pressed my arm ami ejaculated—" To think that he shonld come between us!"
In three weeks I weut back to Yale to study la%v. Mary Jano and I held farewell services under the Balm of Gilead tree agaiu. Tliis last farewell was in many points similtir to our first. Instead of the superlatives tliat charac¬ terized that, however, we made great use of short extracts from English and Italian poeta, and employed a few touch¬ ing classical allusions.
For three months Mary Jane and I exchanged letters very frequently.— Then I began to notice that tlie width ofthe white margin on her's had in¬ creased, that she wrote only abont half way down the eighth page, and never aaded a sheet for a postscrijit. I matle a note ofthe fuct to her, and she plead¬ ed Inck of time, and streleheil her hand¬ writing in the next letter so that it covered an exlra sheet.
By nnd by there came a letter from a friend whose mission it was to umler- take disagreeable truths. I was struck as I opened it wilh the recurrence of that odious name, Sammy Sloper, on every page. Sammy had returned to New York, a few weeks before I went to Yale. 1 learned now that he had come back, and was going iniobusiuess with Mary Jane's father in a new min¬ ing enterjirise. He waa constantly at Mary Jane's father's, the letter wenton to say, and wus very devoted to the ilanghter. Thereafter there followed a li.st of Iheir incomings and outgoings, which to my distorted vision, was highly condemnatory, and to this -vvtui added the comiiieiUary of the village gossip. I ehclosod the letter iu one lo Mary Jane, and demanded an explana¬ tion.
She replied thatshe was utterly sick of sueh constant surveillance. I wrote that if slie persisted iu ignoring the re¬ lations between herself and me, in all her intercourse with society, itwas.bet- ter that no such relations should exist. Slie immediately iespoiided that I had exactly expres.sed her own feeling.s on thesuliject. Would I please to return her letters at onco?
The package that I sent her. by ex¬ press was a very large one; the one which I receiveil from lier made a large pile of ashes iu tlio grate. I caught the fragrance of violetahoutitas I toss¬ ed it inlo the fire, and that was till. I Inrned to the study of jurisprudence.
Tliree monlhs more arid they wrote me that she w.ns marrieil. I don't, re¬ member to. have had ver.v many dis¬ tinct tlioughts about it; but I know that after the lirst hasty glance at. the letter I read it over word by word for four times; and then dropped it in the fire. I dou't know what I did during the next three or four' lioiifs, but I re¬ member joining a party of stndenta in the evening; that Ijdiiyed my first card for money; that I drank more that evening tlian I ever before done in my life; that I was assisted home be¬ tween 2 and 3 o'cloek'a. m., and awoke the next morning willi a blintUng head¬ ache, and a wish tliat I had never been born. All very nuheroie, but quite human.
A well dressed man of two hundred pound weiglit; a man who might have been kepton beef roasts ami turtle soujis all his life; with a rosy good-natured face; EiiglLsh-cnt .side-whiskers, a bright eye, hair iinstreaked by gray, lilies abont the mouth grailually soften- ing,—this is a portrait of mvself, aged fifty, a Judge iu the Supt-rior Court and a member of Congress.
A finely shaped woman of aristo- cratio bearing, wilh a comjilexion .which has the roseienf fniruess of six¬ teen ; henlthlly mnturetl; handsome eyes, a jiieasiiig mouth, and well-pre¬ served teeth, a hideous hundred dollar chignon, long curls, shorl curls and frizzles, very prettily arranged ; shape¬ ly hands tastefully jeweled, toilets that aspire to Parisian jierfection, in sura a very attractive woman of society—this is a portrait of Mrs. Samuel Slojier, aged forty-eiglit, who is nothing to me.
It is fitting that a portrait of Samuel Sloper himself should be placed beside that of Mrs. Sloper; theref.ire I shall give a rough charcoal sketch of him on the wall, andhopeiiottobeinsjiired by such baseness as to purposely fail in doiug him justice, because lie once rivaled me ao successfully. He is a large mau like myself, but his corpu¬ lency isof a litlle diU'ereut kind; in some way it remindsoneofjralV paste, though Hottoopull'y perhajis. He wears mustache and whiskers, has a small spot on the top of his head from which the blonde hair lias fallen nway, a nose too large by half, and eyes as much too small, a very jileasatil and frequent laugh, which is a good thing for Mary Jane, no doubt. For exercise he pre¬ fers riding to walking, and, as former¬ ly, likes to drive fast horses; ho owns the horse that he drives now, however. He is a connoisseur of Havan.as, a good hand at billards, and, setting aside all early prejudices, I acknowledge him a very agreeable man.
My wife's maiden name was Flora Elizabeth Stiles, antl williout entering Into the minutito of description, I say to any feminine friend looking over these pictures, thatshe is stylish ; and, furthermore, a very fine woman.
I am senior p.nrtner in aHrnily estab¬ lislied ami widely reputed law firm in a city wliose name I do not choose to reveal. The world worshijis success, and the world's woraliip insures further success, whether or not that \n a good thing I leave to moralists. I am also something of a statesman ; moat people would say politicinn, tint I do assert that I .nm nu honest man, therefore I prefer lo use the term statesman. Here, alao, I am successful, for I do notaspire to be Presiilent, and if one will limit his aspirations by his gifts, and take tliinEB cooly, even in politics, nay rath¬ er in atatesmanshii), he m.ny lie success¬ ful. I am wealthy. I intended to bo sure, but as nine ami a-qnarter tenths of American youtli liayc the samo in¬ tention, and a small portion of that complex traction fall short of it, my having allained tliegoal m.-iy be worthy of observation. Jly residence in tlie city is quite elegant. I havu jilenty of company, plenty of servants, plenty of money, und all that it brings. That ia all. That isenongh Isuppose. Aman of hfty yeara who can't be content with tlmt, probably wonlilii't he with any¬ tliing. My wife preaidea there with, great dignity, and 1 aim to do likewise wheu I'm not tormented wilh starched stifl'ness of apparel.
During the three summer months I live at the old place in the country.- Sammy Sloper and I m-o neighbors there. The grounds altiiched to mv jiretty villa include the site of Marv Jane's former fcome. Sammy owns a boot and shoe factory located on the classic grounds ofthe old soaji fdctory, ¦ivhich the'progressive spirit ofthe nge
NO. 22.
BUtioeSafulIy. voted out of existence un¬ der the bead of nuisances., He also owns a boot and shoe:Bbop further,up the hill, and the fouiidry,.;tenement houses, and exceeding much substance in lands and railroad stock. He retains the dashy style of his youth, and enjoys setting the village people agajie by some, newdisjilay, with'a • heai-tTness that is thoroughly Sloperlan. He Is one at the' fortunate ones w^oneverioselanythiog through want of confldence in a'bllities. But Sloper is a good fellow, and he and I are the best of friends.
Mrs. Sloper and my wife are also on terms of great intimacy. They unveil their bosoms' deepest secret in regard to Parisian modes and becom'ing tex¬ ture and tint of dresses to one another; they are one lu heart and confldence in all that pertains to oue another'sjewelry and laces; they mingle their Iiopes and fears about new bonnets, and sympa¬ thize tenderly in the afflictions and persecutions they sufl'er from their ser¬ vants. Mrs. Sloper has two daughters who are yonng ladies, and as pretty as their mother was. She consults my wife often on matters connected with their wardrobes, and I have sometimes almost felt a reviving of my old tender¬ uess for her in sympathy with her dis¬ tressing doubts whether to havo the ruffles ou their dresses mado threo in¬ ches wide or four.
The little gold ring with Mary Jane's name and mine engraved in the inside, lies rolled up In a crumpled yellow en¬ velope at the bottom of an old secretary, in my law ofllce, and once in a while, whon I am down there alone, I take it out and turu it around on the tip of my finger, and wonder if there is not, after all, a romantic warm spot in my heart for the Mary Jane of long ago, who has no kinship with the Mra. Sloper of to¬ day ; and say, "Would to God that tiiose days of enthusiasm, and faitli, and sincerity of life and affection might come agaiu !" Butthey won't, nor they can't. I crumble up tho ring iu the pajier and thrust it back, and go on again, as a good many others are going on in life, waiting till we get to the end and can look back over the whole to know whether to cry or to laugli.
THEmNISTEE'TwiFE.
There are all sorts of ministers' wives, hecanso ministers marry all sorts of women.
Most girls are very partial to stndents of divinity ; aud, of course, it is always in order to be tloing kind offices to those who are devoted to the service of the Lord. Thus, by much attentiou and petting, many a young minister has been led into an engagement with one remarkably unfitted to fill the phice of minister's wife. Well, he has his wliole lile-time in which to smart forit. Perhaps he finds himself mar¬ ried to a selUah und ineflicient jietted ilaughter, or to a woman too lazy to wait upon herself, much less on him.— Or he may tn t flnd this out, at least not for years ; but his church and parish will discover it. And the flrst thing he knows his sniary will fail. There will be no sueh thing as raising it. The people, he knows very well, are quite able to raise it, and he can not see that there is any personal coldness towards him ; but something is tbe matter. The money will not come, and he must go. If he could walk invisible into the houses of his peojile, he would soon Dnd where the pinch is, or rather, what the pinch is fnr.
"Jlr. So-and-so is a good man. Wo all like him. He would be a good preacher, too, if he conld give his time to his business. But uo man can wetir himself out at housework and baby tending, and tlien jirepare gootl •ser¬ mons, or feel the required strength and spirits for preaching and pastoral duties. Mrs.So-aml so believes that Mr. So-anil- so's chief duly is lo work for and wait on her; and, therefore, s//c must pay him. We can not afl'ord to pay a 7nin- ister for devoting himself to mantial labor, even in his own family." 'I'his is the substance of the talk. The result is tliiit the people lose a minister they do reall.v love, and the minister loses a place where he might be very useful und hajipj', jierhajis fnr his whole life. Mnny a case like this we all  do know.
Mrs. Merrill was of the opinion that a minister's duty was first to God and his churoh, uext to unconverted sin¬ ners, and then to his family. She held that he should not wed at all, orshonld mtike sure that the woman of his choice w.ns inspired by holy ambition to be !' an help meet for him." She felt that had she been a man, her chosen and beloved work would have been to preach Christ to a dyiug world, and as this could not be, she wns deeply glad and grateful thai she could devote her life to llie service of one who could jireach the gospel. She wanted her husband to tlevole himself wholly to the aacrcii work. Not a care, not a worry that a wife's loving prmlence, watchfulness, and activity could save him, did she allow to disturb his meditations. He must go fresh and clear-headed to his stuily, no matter how the case stood Willi her. She would contrive some way to get through with llie day's du¬ ties. He waa to bo about the Lord's business, ami she was to see tliat he was cared for, and duly comforteil atall times; In tills way she feltthatshe too was preaching tlie tidings she so detirly loved.
Dear woman! was she right or wrong? Will not the Master sjieak of such its she, those words of blessed compensa¬ tion: "Site litilh done whatshe could." Well, expenses became heavy—there wiissiekuess in the family; children came—O denr! a troop of them; (She never .said "O dear!" though; would not, hnd there beeu twenty of them,) there were aged parents to be made comfortable. Somethiug must bo done to add to the income. Mrs. Merrill took a boartler; she gave music lessons; she sang in a choir. Much of the time she did'herown housework and sewing. From early niorning until dark that woman fairly ran about her work; up stairs and down stairs she fiew as if slie had wings. And she was cheerful and pleasaut;withal. Of course there was comiiany, no end of it, to be entertain¬ ed. And it was entertained. Mrs. Jfer- rill was nu excellent cook, she was a good housekeeper, and she was an in¬ telligent and refined lady. All the household and other drudgery in which she engnged stamped no look or air of drudge on her.
Fair asa lily, her sweet face full of dimples and smiles, she was always a jileasing sight to the eye; and she was a most interesting companion. Her ruling thought—to serve and honor her husband—made her strain every nerve to render their Slav at his house agree¬ able to his guests." Who can tell how many of the clergyman of New Eng¬ land have been rejieatediy and hospita¬ bly entertained by this admirable wom¬ an—when half the time, jierhajis, she was much more fit to be in bed than up nnd at work. Have they forgotten her? Is there 7ione to speak a word of praise for such a woman when she is gone? When a man dies, who has, ac¬ cording to tlie measure that was in him, given as she gave, what a sound he leaves behind him; how full the pa- jiers are of his v,'ouderiul generosity and devotion ; but here ftills a woman who gave all; yea, life itself; for she died in the harness—to the Master's cause, but uot a lisp of it is uttered, un¬ til one who, us a mere watcher from llie outside, is ashamed to let so rare a woinan lie forgotten so soon, seeks to lay these few tokens of respctful and admiring memory upon lier grave.
Perhaps her example should not be closely followed; for she probably kill¬ ed lierself from overwork. Slio over¬ rated her strength, aud did more tlian her duty; but for this sin her Lord has given her sweet forgiveness, long ere this; and -wilh him she is at rest.— Congregationalist.
:   FOB TEE LITTLE FOLKS.
THE BABY'S DKA-WER.
There's ii tittle drawer In my cllflmber , Onarded-with tenderest care.' Where the dainty clothes are lying. Thnt my darllnsshallnever wear. : And there, wlille the hours are waning, '    Till the house Is all atrest, I sItolfd;fancy a bolby . : CIoso to my.achlug breast. .
M.V darling's pretty, ^hl'te gftrrnent^!
I wrought theia. Bitting ntiarl. Willie his mystic life was throbbing
Under my throbbing heart. And often.my hnppy dreaming
Ureaks In a litlle song. Like the murmur of birds nt brooding,
When the days are warm and iong.
I JlniPhed the dainty wardrobe. And the drawer wns almost full
With robes of iliefini'st muslin. And rubes of the whitest wool.
I folded tliem nllogeUier,
Willi a rose for every pair, Snilllng and saying " Gem Fragrant,
Fit for my prince lo wear."
Ah, the radiant summer morning,
Ho full of a mother's Joy! "Tlnmlc God, hu Is fair iin.l perfect.
My beautiful, new-born boy. ' Let him wear the pretty, while garmenls
I wrought while silling apart; Lay him, so sweet nnd so lielplfs.s.
Here, close to my throbbing heart.
Many and many an evening
I Kit. since my liaiiy came, .Saying, " Wlial dn the angels call him?"
l''or ho died wlLlioul iiname; Sit wiiile the lionrs are waning,
And llie house is ail al rest, And fancy a baby nestling
Close to my uchiug breast,
—Piitiiam-s ^tfonthli/.
TOMMY'S WISH.
A Parisian beggar meets a gentleman ou the slreet corner.
Beggar. "Give me a sou, my dear Sir."
Gentleman. " WiU a sou be enough for you ?"
Beggar.   " Y'es, my dear Sir."
Geiitlemnn. "I have no sou, bnt here is a ten-sou jiiece. You ivill owe me nines'tius."
Beggar. "Thank yon, tny denr .Sir; I shall pray God to preserve your life until the day when 1 shall give them hack to you."
Said a youngster, in high glee, dis¬ playing his purchase to a bosoqi.friend on the sidewalk:" Two coeoaiiuts for ten cents! that will mako me sick to¬ morrow, and I won't have to go to school."
Josh Billingson Preaching.—I always advise short sermona, especially on a hot Sunday. If a minister kan'tstrike ile in forty minutes, he's either got a poor gimlet or he's bdrin' In the wrongf place.
The brook had been dancing along all summer; it was full of bubbles and trout; so some peojile called it Bubble Brook, and some called it Trout Brook, but it was all the same to the brook.
The bubbles were full of diamond sparkles nnd rainbow colors, and the trout.were aa full of swim a's children are full of play. The trees were full of flowers, and houses were, some of them, half full, and afew of the hajj- piest of them quite full of boys aud girls.
Ever so mauy of these children went to school by tbe meadow path, and over the little, low bridge, across the brook. If it hadn't been for that, I don't be¬ lieve I should have any story to tell.
Tommy was a boy—
"O, of course. Tommy was! He wouldn't be a girl!" you shout; and you aro laughing at me for telling you of it. But you can't always tell by the name. I once knew a liltle girl who jilayed boys' plays, and climbed trees and fences, and whistled, and " hung on" behind wagons, and all such things, until people called her Tom; and ahe flnally grew so used to that name that she almost forgot her own pretty name of Mary. One day in school, when the teacher said the boys could go out for recess, this little girl rose and started out, too. I suppose she thought if her name was Tom, she must be a boy. Of course, none of you would make such a mistake.
But, as I was s.nying, Tommy wns a boy who tried being a trout, uiid as no¬ body knows aboutit butme, I shall bave to tell you about it.
Tommy was a lillle boy. He hail played all through the beautiful sum¬ mer, and covered his cheeks with roses and dimples, and his lips with smiles, and filled hia eyes with Bj)arkles, and his breath with sweetness, and his whole liltle heart and life with haji- piuess and sunshine, just aa I wiali all the liltle ones could do every summer.
When it was early fall. Tommy began to go to school. One bright, warm af¬ ternoon, 'roniniy had learned nnd re¬ cited his lesson, and tiegan to be pretty tired staying in school. By and by, his teacher told him he might go home, and so he went; by the meadow jialh and the litlle, low bridge over llie brook. He slopjied there, and sat down on the bank aud wntched the bright, golden water, bubblingundrippliiigalong with sucli a soft, cool, quiet sound.
He could see the flshes darting by so fast, and the round, wet stones lookiug so .smooth and bright under the water, and the shadows of the buslies beside him, waving, waving, so slowly ou the tO|) of it.
Poor Tommy wns very warm and very tired; lie had heen tired sitting down, and now he was tired walking; his lesson had been pretty hard for his little mind to master; be eveu began to think he had a headache; and al¬ together. Tommy wasn't nearly as happy as usual. He took ofl' his shoes and stockings, aud put his plump, little ; feet in the lirook, and laughed to see the trout come swimming along close by them, ns if they thonght them little, white fishes.
Tlie cool, briglit water went slipping over hia tired little feet, nnd felt so com¬ fortable and good to him that Tommy wished he wns lu it .all over, and so he said:
"O, I do wisli I was a trout."
Pretty aoon he took out his feet, and lay down on the grass, with his heail close beside the beautiful brook ; and watched the little fishes, and the same cool, wet, round stones nnder the water, and the sanje liltle shadows, Avaving so slowly on the top of it, ami somehow ho kept remembering what he had said, "0,1 do wish I was a trout."
He looked up into tlie blue sky, and some little, white clouds came sailing along, and it seemed to Tommy as if they made cloudy letters— o, I uo WliSII!
"0 dear!" stud Tommy—poor Tom¬ my; and he looked dowu into the brook again. He began to feel very queer; begau to feel us if he was grow- i ng smaller. He ¦won sure he had never felt so before.
First there was a little singing in his ears ; and tlien he couldn't hear the brook rippling any longer, for his ears were gone. Tlien his arms grew shor¬ ter, and flnally the.v changed into lit¬ tle, reddish-brown iins, with black ami white edges. Then he couldn't tell where his clothes were gone; aud his beautiful, white skin began to turn yellow and brown, with little, black marks and red spots over it. His legs grew shorl, just us bis arms had, aiid some more tins and a tail came, ami auother long fin on his back. He couldn't sit in his liltle ch.-iir, in tlie schoolroom, now.
Tommy was so astonished he snap¬ ped his eyes, or rather he tried to, and tlien he found his eyelids were gone.— He knew all his curly hair must be gone, too ; but he couldn't put his fins up lo feel his smooth head.
The next thing lie knew, he was in the wuter; aiid,Mr3. Trout came swim¬ ming along, aud said, iu the llsh lan¬ guage:
" Why, where have you been, my dear, little boy? I've missed yon a long time, and hunted everywhere for
That made Tommy think how his own dear mamma would miss him when the children came home from school wilhout him, aud be could never come again, because he had wished to be a trout, iu the brook. The tears came into his jioor, littlo eyes, but the rippling brook washed them away, and nobody, exeejit Tommy himself, knew how sorry he was, for Hshes' eyes don't show tlie feelings, ns children's do.
" Now, come with me," .liaid Jlrs. Trout, "and swin under tho bridge, in the shade."
Tommy wondered how it happened tbat he could swim so well, uulil he remembered that lie was a trout.
Ho swam along wilh a sad, lillle heart, until they were nnder the bridge, and then Mrs. Trout said that they must slay there until the children had gone home from school, for she saw a fish line hanging out of Aleck's pocket as he went to school, at noon, and he might stop to fish on his way home.
Poor Tommy opened his mouth to scream, but there camo uo sound, aud Mrs. Trout said :
"You are gaping, m.y dear; put your head on this little, cool stone, aud take a nap."
Now, Aleck wns Tommy's big broth¬ er, nnd Tommy waa thinking how dreadful it would be, if Aleck should come fishing and catch him, their own little Tommy, and carry him home for supper. But, of course, Mrs. Trout didn't know this.
He rememhereil how he had felt wlien he had wished ho were a trout; but it seemed now as if his lessons hadn't been very hard, after all, and he hadn't beeu very tired, either; and, altogeth¬ er, he wus a great deal more wretched, now he was a trout, than be had been while he was a little boy.
He begaii to hope that other little boys would lie very careful what they wished. He tliought. If they Could only know of his unfortunate wish, they luouW be carefnl; and then he began to wonder what would become of bim in the winter, when the brook was frozen over.
'" Jnst then he'heard a noise that soun- cled'Ukrethunder, i
•Tr; Is the' children coining over the
bridge,"said Mrs. Trout. "I will just] catch that little minnow for onr lanch, and then we will stay here, as safe as can be."
Mrs. Trout darted out to catch the minnow, and In a minute. Tommy saw her go up out of the sunn v brook, away up on the end of Aleck's fish line.
Then he heard Aleck any, "That's a buster; now we'll catch a little one.''
Poor Toinmy opened his mouth, to scream again, and he dM scream this time. In good eurnest. Then he heard Aleck again, saying, "Hark! What's that? It sounds like Tommy."
-And well it might sound Uke Iiim. Tommy thought. Tommy felt aa queer fora minute ua he did when he began to beatroul, for nowhebegan lo stretch and grow larger. Then he san' the blue sky overhead, and tiien green grass un- ilerneath, and—it wasftiily a dream in a nap, aflerall! for he hail fallen asleep watching the waving sliudows and the bubbling water.
Tommy jumped up on his two rested litlle feet.
"Come on. Tommy! What are you doing tliere? and what makes your eyes so big?" said Aleck.
Tommy "came on," butliedidn'ttell whut made his eyes ao big. He has never forgotten how unhappy he was while he thought he was a trout; and nobody even hears him wish now tobe .anybody or anything Init the dear, lit¬ tle Tommy he is, excejit, sometimes, when he is a hurry to be the good, use¬ ful man he will be—all in tlie right tXme.—{Little Corporal.)
WARKEN BELL'S LESSOX.
Few reflections are more bitter than those which come to a hearty not desti¬ tute of feeling, after an unkind woril to a loviug parent. "Honor thy father and thy mother, that tli.v days may be long npon tbe land which the Lord thy God givelh thee." Woe is sure to come to him wlio disregards God'a lioly commandment.
It is common to meet with those who, while acknowledging, perliajis to their own hearts, the love they bear theirparents,outwardly tiealthem with indifl'erence, or open disrespect. Tliia is ofteu tlie case with young meu who ure forming improper associations. Au idea seems to prevail wilh them that a -Iiow of atfection is girlish, efleminate. This is a great miatake, ami one wliich causes much grief. Iu illustration I recall a reminiscence.
A uumber of years since, I lived in a pretty country village, so lovely and quiet as to cause wonder that anything like grief or nnkindneas couhl thrive tliere. Among my companiona was one named Wnrren Bell, an unateady. niischicf-loviiig lad, b-dtagenerousone; a leader in all sports, and a general favorite. He was, at the time of wliich I write, about seventeen years oltl. I know now tliat he dearly loved his widowed mother, hut a stranger would scarcely have thought ao, judging from his manner towards her. The widow loved her only son as none but a mother can love; she was gentle and kind to him, and was agood Christiaii woman. But to Warren, her tears, and counsels ami exiiortalions, as site saw him slowly drifting astray, were distasteful, and he did uot mind telling her so. As to con- suldng her wishes in anything, orohey- iiigany command of hers Ihat did not coincide witli his feelings, he seeming¬ ly never dreamed ofsucb a thing.
For several days 1 had noticed, in my visits, that Warren had preserved es- pccltil coldness, wliich often became downright disrespect,towards his niotlir er, on account of her rebuke forsome misdemeanor. He probably thought lie was old enough to be bis own master, and did not reflect tliat such conduct jiroved the conlrar.y. It wus winter; the jionil was in jirime order for skat¬ ing, and I called for Warreu to joiu nie in the jileaaure.   .
Mra. Bell was aboutleaving liome for a abort term, to visit a sister, who was lying ill, leaviiig the house in charge of Warren. W^lieu I came in, she was saying, in cheerful way, but with a henvy heart, I know :
"Warren, Warren, don't be so un¬ kind;    I will   not see you. for several
" About the railroad accident this af¬ ternoon."
" Tliey are growing common now," he answered, with astrange light in his oyes, as if he were thinklug of the po.s- sibility of accident to one iu wlioin ho had interest.
"Th'it does not make the loss of life an.v less fearful."
'¦'Were there so many killed?" he inquired, inuocently.
" Whiit train did your mother take, Warren?" I aaiil, after a jiaiise, trying to make my eyes sjieuk uu iiikling.uf the truth.
He kuew all, then, for he grew very pale.
" Yon know, aa well as I do," he ex¬ claimed, lioarsely, "llial it was the iuto express.''
"That train was wrecked," I said, and would have continued, liut he fell ut my feet. He looked up imploringly : " Don't,—jilease don't tell me tiiat,— that mother is dead!" : What a face it wus tliut was lifted to mine,^painted witli all iii'leiisity of uitbelief,' li'oi-rnr, ami grief! Alas, he read coiiflrmution in my downcuat eyes uiiti. my tears. Tlien he broke out jiassioiiutely :
" A few lioura ago, sho iieg-zed me lo kiss her, and 1 refused! A few hours ago, 1 told her it would be too good lo lie true! Oh, niolher, mollier, shall t never be able to hear you say I am forgiven?" \
When his mother's remains were brouglit to the Iionse, he became almost wild in ilia remorse und grief, ncciising himself iu tho most violent manner.
These were only a few words that caused this grief, but who can weigii tlie pain tliey had cnuseil to a loving mother's heart, aa well as the remorse enlailed for a life-lime oii the careless son ? It Wiia a fearful lesson to War¬ reu Bell. He would have given liis lifo if lie couhl have had his inolher bnck again, just long enougli to jiut his arms about lier neck, aud say, " Moth¬ er, forgive my cruel words ; for I do love you."
As I saw him standing by his moth¬ er's ojieii gravo, and noticed his pale face and his eyes sunken with weeping, ami saw the quivering lijis and gasjiing soils wliich he in vain tried lo check, as be looked at the cold and still form of his mother for the last time, I thought of his words to her, " Too good to he true," aud would not, were It po.s¬ sible, havo changed places with hitu for the world.—A^a//ono( Baptist.
dnys, perhiiiis." "Thfel       - ¦
LE9AL  NOTICES.
Anm.M.trKATOR'.s koticf..
Estate of Elizabetli  Dielrich,  late  of West Cocalico townshiji, deceased.
IFrrrElWof administration on said estate jhavlng been granted lo tbe undersigned, nil nersons Indebted theretoare reijiiesled to ini'ke Immediate pa.vineiil. and those iiaving rial ins ordemtinils against llie.sanie wilt pi-eseultl'em withoutdelay for sptMeinentlo the uudersign¬ ed residing iu said township.
IIE-NUV DIF-TItlCIT. mar 9 0*1 17 Adiulnistraior.
ADJIISIHTBATOR-S NOTICE.
Estateof Leonard Snyder, late of Lau¬ easter city, deceaaeil.
I KlTElts of admlnlslrallon on said eslale ha- jVlng been grauled to the undersigned, all persons indebted tliereto are requestedto make Immediate paymeut, and those havingelaiins or demandsagalnst thesame wlli present liiem withont delay for seltienienltu llie undersign¬ ed, residing in said city,
HUGH .s  O.^RA. marSOGl^Ol Admluistrator.
EXECUTOR.S' XiOTiCE.
Estate   of   Susuniia   Kemjicr,   lute of Ephrata townshiji, deceased.
rETTKIl.STesl.imeiilaryon snld estate htiv- iing been granled to tlie undersigned, all fiersons indebteii Ibercloarereijnusled to 111 tike iutnetllat« paynieni. and chose having claims or doninnds against llie same will present lliem forsetllement to llie undeislgned, re¬ siding in said township.
IsKaKL MI!I.LIXCEn, iiA.MUEL WOLF. mar26fi«tl9 Executors.
EXKCVroKH' NOriCE..
Estate of .lac.ili Warfel, Inie of Coucs- tiiga lowiishiji, deci'ilseil.
IETTEtt-S Lcsiiimeutary on-said esiati- hi>\- jlng been grained lo tlu- nndersigned, aii fiersons Indebleil tlieretoiire reriiii-slell to make mmediule   settlemenl,   and    tlinse   having cliiiinsordcmniiilKagaiust tliesiinie. will pie- senlthem witbonl ileliiy for settlemenl In tiie uudetvigned, re-ldlng m snid tnwtislilti. UKOROF. Ii   WaRFKL, VALEXl'1-NE WAllFEl.. maiO 6*117 Execulors.
belter luck," answered the un- dutiful son, taking down hisakates; "I will have a little quiet till you come back."
The wound was deep, biit with a mother's love she hid It; and-as we were ready lo stait, she said: "Good¬ bye, Warren," and made a motion as if to kiss him.
He looked at her as If surprised, then said: "Don't lie silly, motlier. Do you take me for a baby'?"
it was some more than, common yenrning'for. her boy's love, perhaps that urged her tosay, With tears in her eyes:
" Will you notkissyour motlier good¬ bye, Warren ?"
Warron W.'IS fixing in astraj?. Wlien he hiul finished, he said: "Come, Hal; let's be ofl';" and he moved to- warils the door.
"You might never see me again; Warren," said the widow, in  sadness;
" Tliat," said Warren, working him¬ self into impatience, "would be coo good to be true;" aiid pushing me ont, he slammed the door after him.
As I passed the window I glanced in. I shall never forgetlhe drooping figure, and sad, sad look of the poor mother. Warreu saw it, too. and hurried away. That tliese words of his wcre unmeant needs scarcely to be said.
" Shame on yoji," I said. " Go back and tell her you didn't mean tliat.'
He looked troubled, but too proud to reply, strode on in silence.
Ariiving at the pond, which was alive with pleasure-seekers, we w'ere soon in tbe midst of throng. Warren wns regarded ns the beat skuter in the village, but I never saw him bear him self so ungracefully. After glidlnp around the pond, aud trying in vain to execute some of his pet movements, he seemeil to lose all interest in the sport.
" What has come over Warren ?" was asked by his friends. How could I an¬ swer tbem ?
" I say, I shall stop; I don't feel well."
"Ishail stop off, ifyou do," I an¬ swered ; and In an Instant the skates were oft', and we turned"towartl the v'il- lage. There was silence for a time, but at last he said:
" I wonder if mother haa gone."
"No doubt of that. The express started half an hour ago."
" Do you know, Hal, I didn't mean just what I said,-you know when ahe spoke,—when she said I inight not see her again."
"You should not have left her so. Why didn't yon go back and. tell her you spoke hastily''"
" I wish I had. But it's all over now. I will make It all right when she comes btick."
We had renchcti the gate. " Won't you come In'?" he saicl. " Good night, then."
As I exchanged "gnnd night" with him, I held his hantl for a moment, with a feeling of pity for him. I saw that even now he was rendered uiiliaj)- jiy hy the W'ords he had so lately spoken to his motlier. .,
An hour later I ivas told that some one was at the door tosee me, but would not come In. Wondering who It could he, I rejiairetl to the door. It jiroved ti> be a school-mate, pale -H'ltli excitement.
" Have yon lieaid the news?" he ex¬ claimed, aa he saw ii^e. " Tliere hus been an accident to the afternoon' ex- jiress, ami Mrs. Bell is umong the killed!"
I caught iny breath, the horror of the laat meeling of mother and son being fresh in tny iniiid.
" Mrs. Bell! Are you aure there is no mistake?"
" It ia true,—and Colonel. .Tames and Robert  Kenshaw,-and   a   nnmber of
others from S .   The reason I came
to lell you about it is, they are about to bring the bodies in, and they wutiiyou to bieak the news to Warren,—you and he are sn Intimute. There he Is at the gate, now. Whut if he should hear ii while you hesltute.   Be quick.
"No, uo; I cannot."
"Yon must, so go. I muat hurry to the station."
He hurrieil off, and, my mind all in a strange whirl, X walked ovei^ lo my friend. As 1 stood beside him, I could, not realize tlie dreadful truth that he was motherless.
" C:onie in, Hal," he .s.aid, cordially. " I am glad you came over. I am very lonely; aud I declare," ho continued, emiliug, " it seems to me tlie people must think so, too. Tliey look and speak so kindly as Ihey pass."
How should I lell him that it was pity for him as an orphan that made their words ao klml and gentle?
" Have you heard the news?" I ven¬ tured, in a kind 'of desperation. I    "News! whatnews'?"
r-XKCOTOR'.s NOTICE.
Estate of Julin  Weidler. Inte of Mun- Iieiin towiistiii>, ilec'd.
{ETTERS iHslumei.tary on tne eslnteolsiild J deceased Iiaving been grunled tn Ihe un¬ dersigned, ail persons ilnlelited thereto a.-e requested to make Imiuedialo payment, unit those having claims o, demandsngiiinsl tno samo will present them for seitieinenl to the undersigned, residing in said tow ship i • JalOB G. WEIDI.ER.
mar9 C*t 17 l:.xeculor.
EJCr,CITT«»R'.«i N<irH'E.
Estate of Ciirij-tiati Killliefiier, late of Eti.st Eurl tiiwiishiji. dte'il.
IETTERS   lestaitieulai-y  ou   saiii eslate. J having been giunted lo ihe nndersigiieit, nil persons  Inilcbled   thereto, are  ri-itnested   to make immediate paymenl.and Ihi,.-e .lavng claims or demands againsl tbe Mime, will p.e- senllhom witlioul delav forseltleiiiHiil to tiie undersigned, residing in said towusiiip. a .-s. uRisr. GEORGE DEHAVEN-. m.aroO'tlC E.xeeutors,
AIII>ITOR'.S NOTICE.
Estate of Susan ua Hinsey, lute of East Cocalico twp., deceased.
THE undersigneii audiliir. appointed lo diJ« tribute tliii balunee remiiining In Ihe liaiiiU Kulhaii Itulb, Admlnislrntor of said d-ceiuied. lo and among lliiisc legally eulltled to tlio same, will attend for that purpose on PRI HAY. Al'llilj '-'Jd. iSitl. nt lo;J o'clock n. m.. in tlie Library Room of tho Court House, in tiie f.'ily of Lancasler. Fa., where all persons iulerest- cd tn Sttlddistrlbullon nis.v utteiiil
AND. M. FRA>'TZ; mar2) tl Ml Auditor.
AVDirOR'N NOTICE.
Estate  of Sarah   Vo^'uu, late of Earl township, deceased.
THE undersigned Auditor, nppointed lo lils- Iribnlo Ihe bulaueo reniiilulng in ihe hands of Ezrn Rurkhoider. e.sq., irnstee, up- pointed by itie Urpiuins'.Court of Lancaster COUU1.V, toseli real estale of .snld deeea-ed, to nnd among those leg'illy enlllleil lo tho siiiii'*. will sll for thai purpose on TUESDAY, MAY loth. 1S70. alio o'eioek. a. m., in the Libr.iiy Room of the Court Honse. In the city of Lan¬ caster, where ull peisuns inlerested in said dlstrlbnllon mny intend.
Lane.'r. Mar. a)J. 1870.        C. S. HOFFMAN.
marJOlllll Audllor.
ANSI«.NKE.S- NOTICE.
Assigned Estiito Of John Sener and wife, of Pequea townsliip, Lan¬ caster county. JOHN SENER nnd wlfe.of I'equcn town.ship, hMVInghy deed of volunliti.v imsigutnent, dated aiarch lull, 1&71), a-sigucd and trans¬ ferred ali their estale and elT. cts to tlie uuder¬ signed, for tlie benelltof the creditors oflhe satd John Sener, they Iheref re g've notiee to nil persons indebted to sam aKiignor, to make payment to the uudersigueti wilhoul delay,uudthoseliavlBgclainisln prespiil tlieui lo BENJ A.MIN G. UEI Z,
Res-iding In ^lountville. J.ati. eo,,
WILLIAM McMUl.LI.N. Residing in Umithville, Lau. ro.. aprG C*l 21j Assignees.
A.SSIGXEE'R NOTICE.
Assigned Estate of Bacliman, Stoner &. Herr, Lnncuster city, Lanc'r co.
BACHMAN,STONER & lIFRIt,of t.ancisler city, baviug by deeil of volniitiiry assign¬ ment, 'dated Maruii '.!2d, 1A7U. assigned and Iriinsferred ali their eslale and elTeels lo the nnderslgned. for the benelit of the creditors of llie suid Baehman.SLonera Hen-, bo ilierefiire gives notice to all persons ludebleil to said assignors, to tnnlcu paymeut to the uiulmslgn- ed wllhoni delay, and those baviug claims lo present them to
K. K. KTONEIl. Assignee, at ihe law offic ot Ahrnm shank. Kssl King Klreel.opposltetiie Courl House, nil tbe l-l day of   April, and un Monduy and .Siilii'diiy of every week. niar'Jti Ut 111
ANNIONEE'N NOTICE
Assigned Estate of Kreilrritk Sener and wife, of Manor townshiji, Lan¬ caster couniy.
FREDKRti^K SENER nnd ANN.A. iiis wife, of Miinor twp., having bv iii3Ki\ ..f v. Ini,- tury nsslgnment, dated llie lid >ia, of Mii cli. A. D.1.S70. Iisslgned and Irnn-ferred all lln-ir e-tnio and elleulji In the uiiilei.-.lgiieil. f-.r iln; benelitot Hie en-dltois ofthe .said Fieilern-k .**elier. he lllerelore gives li>.lice toall per.Min,^ indebted t-- Bald assigiiiir. ti, mnke pi.yiiit-iit tolho undersigned wilhout delay, au.i llioso having chiiins to present them h,   .
HENKY BAUMGARDNER. Assignee, maris IJ*118J        Kesldiug in Lancaster eliy.
AKSICNEE'S NOTICE.
Assigned Eslale of Job ll s Kise and Wife, uf Munor towii>hJji, Lan¬ caster cnunU. JOHN B. KISEHiidSiisiiii. lils wife of Man..r township, having by deed of volunli.iy as- rlgiiment dated the Itl.n dnv of .M..ieli. .\. 1>. 18711.assigni-d and inn sf.'rroii all lli.lresii.io und elTeels to the uniler»lgiieil, for ibe In in-nt of the creditor- III the siil'l Johns. Kl.^e, i.ii therefore gives noilee to all p. rs"n> ttiil, l,i. il to ssid Hi-algnor. IO make pii>nieiil lo liie un¬ dersigned williout delay, and tiK-se having claims to present tbem to.
A. R. WITMER. Assignee. Residing in Mauor twp.. Safe Um bor 1». O murl'i Ul*17
TNTHE MATTER OF THE PETITIOv OF I DANIEl.R .>|[I.-JSK11.JK. I--|||{ A IieClthE llF SHE. IFIU l'KliFill>.M.\NCE liF CII.N- TRAlT .MAKE KETiVEKN HI.M A.VU HIS FA-rHKK. DA.NlEi. .IIU.SSER,    ECE ^SEll.
.March-Jist. 1S7D. peilii..u-ireseiit d n. the Urplmus' Court, of Lancaster couni.i. hv .1. B Good, esq., and the C-iuil tlx SATUillLW APRIL 2liil. IHTO. alio o'eioek, n. in., for tl„. hearlngof said pel il ion. wheu aud wliuie ml parlies Interested may attend aud be heard If they think proper. Iiy the Court
GEO. W. KEENE.
maren-nmi .  clerk.
notice;
tpHE undBD-lgred hereby gives notice thnt 1 his wife. Margaret Sclineder, of Ureck- iiock townsnlp. Lancaster ci'iiii'v, havin- l,.n his bedaud hiiHiil un p. r>< hs liro i-iiniro-,d agaiii>l I lusting her, or any one else in, li , order, as be will uol bo teniiousiblo, for debts of Uer contracilng, unless by his e.\press or¬ ders. - ¦ ilHKlSTIAN MCHNEblER V, ¦ A';";'',"°S''"'l''il-»aeas«cr connty, March 21sl, 18S0. apl2 l*l a)
-'iit-iiTi1 mifiMlT-iliKr^'y^i''y'fifi'fr 1' ¦