Lancaster Examiner and Herald

              >y
NO. 37.
EXAMINER AND HERALD.'
.   . .pratlflHKD ETOEY SATCEDAY, At Ho." 9 HortiiQuMnptroet, LtnoMttr, B».
TEniI<!-S'i-«0  K TEAS I^ ADTAKCE.:
John-A. Hiestand &.E.M. Kline,
EDlfblto'AlJp'PR'oPBiE^^^
rWntton for tho Ejamlnor.] THE 0I» BBIDOE.
A span or two of roLllng wood, A few planks crumbling in slow decay,
AU cover'd wllh dust, and dark wllti age. Creaking wherever his footatcps stay.
Yet thero he lingers, facing the west, 'Watching the day as It Ikdes away.
A flne old bridge In a day gone by, Butspannlngjust in the hollow here.
With hilts cloud'Capp'd on either side The view is spoifd: though willows near
Droop in a listless, fanoifai way Not seen up there whero tbe way is clear
From the Iron bridge,—ILseif a sight I— To the town spread out in clty-wiso,
Whore beauties handle tlie ribbons line As sounds of hoofs vibrate to tbe skies;
Where trees ore tall, and the land rolls far. And day lingers long before it dies.
He hates the sounds of Ihe busy town, And hates tbe fight of the ladles guy;
And likes tbe sprays tbat droop low ilo\rn And touch where ibu waters lay.
The river is dull and wise.up there, But here it tells what the flow'reta say.   .
The violets blue, uuder those leaves.
Ho twln'd full oa In her soft brown hair While the water splash'd with knowlngsonnd,
And show'dto her eyes a face so fair Her cheeks grew pink, like the tint o' tho sky
Above tbe brow of the high hill there. If only sounds froin the iron bridge
'Could never'rcach to this lonely dell. Then through his watch no echo would say
"I love yon well! 1 love you lo well!" Words that once down deep in his soul
With peace as deep os the evening's fell. But hoofs will clang on tbe grand new bridge
Though tiny hands may lighten tbe rein. If she look'd, would the watch of a day
And the watch of years count all tbe same A cry wells np from his throbbing heart:
" Break 1 break! if my faith be vain."
The hoofs fly on, but I've come! say they.
Out of the grass unto his ear. Winds bear the sound to willows that swiiy
Back from the banks tbelr speech to bear, Whilo ripples beneath the old bridge cry.
Each to each. Come near! come near!
Out or the town and over the bridge—
Ihe iron bridgeof Vanity Fair- She has come to the old, tbe trysling bridge
Crumbling, creaking in the hollow, there Wealth, aud show, and ambition to leave
The old and the true with bim to share.
Louise M.CnAnuK.
THE lAST GAME.
In 3860, while on hospital duty at Kew Orleans, in the United States naval service, I formed the acquaint¬ ance of a gentleman named Henri De Benneville. I say gentleman, because I really believe, though it may sound strangely to orthodox ears, that not- 'Withstanding hia reputed questionable vocation, he was fully deserving of that euphonious, but often misplaced, title.
Be Benneville was kuown to the frequenters of salons, the moneyed meu of the city, and those trading on the Mississippi river, aa a first-class gambler.
But be lie what he might, Henri De Benneville was a mau culeulated to in¬ spire an observer of men and things with more thau ordinary interest.
He doubtless for many years had beeu a keen student of hiunau nature and an uncommon physiognomist, pos¬ sessing a remarkable analysis of motive together with a thorough knowledge of the springs which move the human heart. In combination with these traits he was a mau of exceeding ten¬ derness of feeling aud high mental culture; everything in his personal appearance and conversation being de¬ void of fastness.
Naturally of a warm character, loving temperament, I soon discovered in the nobility of mind and genuine friend¬ ship of De Benneville, though many years my senior, a companion of more than medial attractions; and from a casual introduction our associations quickly ripened into the closest inti¬ macy.
Oue warm morning, in April, while sitting in his elegant reception room at the Crescent House, and discussing the merits of some chapter in human nature that had been suggested by a friend's lively, fertile imagination, he extended an invitation for me to join In a day's excursion down the Missis¬ sippi to a point some flfty miles below the city.
The aifair was select and private, it having been proposed and the arrange¬ ments made by two wealthy planters to whom I had been introduced some weeks previous.   We   were to start in the  morning   aboard    the  Orient,   a steamboat chartered for tEe occasion, spend tbe remainder of theday upon a plantation belonging to one of the gen¬ tlemen I have mentioned, and of course enjoy   as   much  conviviality as  oue might expect from tbe proposed eirent. Having obtained the requisite leave of absence from our good-hearted old surgeon in charge, thenest day in com¬ pany with my frienil and  the rest, a coterie of some twenty gentlemen,   I started on   the trip, with everything seemingly   bright,    liappy,   and   con¬ genial.     Yes,   even   the  usually  sad countenance of De  Benneville   ilself appeared to relax and beam under the influence of the beautiful mornIng,and the gay flags of the gorgeous Orient, seeu in companionship with smiling, pleasure-lighted faces, and a good round of hearty hand-shaking on every side. To one man alone did my courteous associate protTer his hand witlt reluc¬ tance.   He was a new comer, and said to be a cotton   dealer  and   linancier, who    had formerly  resided  in   New York;   so much I  learned   from the gentleman by whom he had been in¬ troduced to the company.   The quick¬ ness of change In the facial expression of De Benneville, and deadly gleum of aversion and hatred tbat shot from his piercing dark brown eyes as he coldly took the stranger's hand, told me  at once that their first meeting had evi¬ dently been  anterior  to  the  present hour; aud that though both, with the skill of consummate experts in the art of concealing emotion, had controlled their feeliug, still, beneath that mask of apparent indlfi'erence  and friendly recognition,    exchanged     upon    the general Introduction, was hidden some hideous face of stern reality and flercest passion.     Nothing  of an   unpleasant nature, however, was spoken, by either or noticed by those around;  and all went merry as a marriage bell as we cast our moorings and glided down the "Father of Waters."
As usual upon such occasions, before we had steamed many miles from the landing, some one of the gentlemen 'Composing the little company proposed a friendly game of "bluff," for the sake «f whiling away part ofthe time neces¬ sary to be consumed before we would arrive at onr place of destination.
Aa my oompanion De Benneville mildly acceded to tbe request, and -ac- 'Cepted the invitation, Isaw that be was gazing witb the clotest iscrutiny, though his gtabces'were fartive, .upon the face and penon of Mr. Cbiurles: Stanbridge,: to whom I hkve referred as having ab¬
sorbed his attention upon their appareiit first meeting and introducllon.
Baiiging the chairs, and seating themselves at the tables in three parties of four each, about half of the'entire ,coinpaiiy prepared to Invoke the smiles 31141)6116818 of hoie-^^iving, ever-grii-. cious, hilt al<fays doubtful chance.
'As I never played for fuoney, my of¬ fice became that of a spectator only; andi: freely confess tlioit when I ob- Sierved the immobility' of my friend's featttres, and the stone hearted imper¬ turbability with Vf hich he lost hand after hand, I was puzzled beyond mea¬ sure to learn how ao much tenderness and delicacy of feeling as I had seen him exhibit a number of times could possibly bo secreted in his, to me, wonderful aiid pbyiiical machinery.— Again and again did he permit his op¬ posite player, Charles Stanbridge, lo sweep the gold and notes to his side without even an attempt at a call or a bluff. This, too,'wns remarkable; for Henri De Benneville, though one of the most honorable and generous pl.iy- ers, wus looked upon as a second to none iu skill at the gaming table.
Upon the present occasion, ho-vever, he seemed destined to lose his name for expei'tuess, if not for generosity; for every hand told again the same story of loss upon loss, tjutil the whole as¬ semblage noticing thegradually increas¬ ing vehemeney of his language and un- wohled strangeness of manner, ceased playing, and became attentively obser¬ vant of the game progressing belween Stanbridge and Henri De Benneville.— Little thought they tbat.it was a game of:ilfe, of which lhey were llie thought. less spectators; lillle lhouj.'iit lhey that tlie active scene, wilh ils actora, pre¬ sented to Iheir oyes, was but the pro¬ logue of a tragedy, to which they were soon to become au absorbed aud anx¬ ious audience.
Had any one told me that Henri De Bennes'IIie, the cynosureof someof the best social circles of New Orleans, with his soft, winning manners,and conver¬ sational fascination, and almost femi¬ nine tenderness of heart, could have been so instantaneously converted'inlo the apparent demon I saw before me, I sliould have imugined it some myth, in which there could nol be the sem¬ blance of truth.
But, to return from our digrcssiou.— There, before me, wilh a Hushed, pas¬ sion-distorted face, rising from the table as he pushed the last heavy slake to¬ ward his opponent, my altered friend opened tbo nolongereontrolable tumult of his bosum, in the followiug fierce in- veclive:
" Charles Stanbridge, you have won, in obligation and luouoy, everything available, in property und valuables, 1 hold In this world; but that is as nought, for you havo won your last wages, and to the infernal regions of hell shall you take your gains."
¦With this expression of auger, he gave Stanbridge a slap npou his plump, rosy cheek, that could have been heard from bow to stern. Instantly, the in¬ sulted man sprang at the throat of the assailant, and, probably, the conflict would have been to the death, had uot the'company and friends of both inter¬ fered, and separaled tlie combatants.— Then, what to do required but liltle comment or coujecture.
In a few moments, after the appoint¬ ing of aeconda and the few neijessary preliminaries had been perfected, Henri De Benneville and Cliarles Stanl)ridge stood pitted against each olber, aceoni- iug to the rules of the so culled code of honor.
Stanbridge being the aggrieved party received the prerogative of naming liis weapon ; and to my lioiror und surprise of all preseut, he made choice of the horrible knife brought Into uae by tlie renowned Col. Bowie.
That Stanbridge, wlio bad been con¬ sidered by all as a polished gentleman, should have shown a preference for llie weapon of a bravo, was the subject of no little comment. But, as by rule aud usage the challenged party always re¬ served the right of selecting tbe arms to be used, there could be no appeal, no alternative, but submission on the part my friend, De Benueville, and Imme¬ dialely preparations were begun look¬ ing lo the opening of the fearful con¬ flict.
By Stanbridge's desire, they were lo Ggbt on the open bow deck, with the railing tops removed, so that should either antagonist possess the strength and obtain an opportunity, he miglit, at any moment of the struggle, cast hia opponent Inlo the river.
To this day my blood freezes in my veins when I think of the frigid tones in whicli these murderous particulars were quickly discussed by the seconds and tliose immediately assisting. I Jmd been offered by De Benneville,the po¬ sition of his second; but much as I de¬ sired to aid him in every way within my power, I instinctively felt my un¬ fitness lo perform with fidelity the of¬ fices of the most unenviable position. So an old acquaintance, accustomed to |,these scenes of horror so often enacted upon the bosom of the Mississippi, was chosen iu my stead; I becoming a willing volunteer lo render'any pro¬ fessional services, wliich might be re¬ quired. Fifteen minutes after the in¬ sult had been given and resented, the duellists—removing coats, vests and braces—appeared upon the scene tliat was to terminate willi the death of one or both of the excited contestants.
De Benneville, with his immaculate shirt, and still whiter hands and neck, bared to atjmit of freedom of action, seemed full of determination and anger, aa, pushing his rich brown hair, thinly silvered, from off his high forehead, he boldly stepped forth, the flrst upon the open space set apart for tbe enact¬ ment of tbe coming horror. Stan¬ bridge, with Ilia slielviug, unwrinkled brow, with its clusters of ricli dark hair, unscathed by time, seemed a fiend incarnate of cruelty and desperation; and the fierce, passionate way in which he grasped his gleaming bowie, and looked frenzied hatred toward his anta¬ gonist, plainly indicated that he pro¬ posed struggling against all chances for the mastery of the fearful battle.
Not long were the spectiitora kept in suspense. Wilh a growl aud a leap, that seemed like the united actions of a tiger, Henri De Benneville sprang upon Ilia wary foe, who, dropping quickly upon one knee to receive the attack, plunged hia bright knife-blade into the abdomen of his assailant. For a second, I thought all was over—my poor friend dead. He, however, in- ttead of losing his balance, aud falling backwards, fell forward upon the per¬ son of Stanbridge; and as the latter raised himself from his stoop, De Benneville inflicted a fearful stab be¬ tween the collar-hone and the muscles of the neck. A moment, and notwith¬ standing these fatal wounds, they were locked ih a mutual embrace, and in¬ flicting upon each other the most hor¬ rible, slaughterous slasliea aud cuts- blood streaming from a dozen or more of incisions and ghastly wounds upon their life sinking forms. The fearful Tatslcharacterofthe wound given to< Stanbridge now began to tell npon^hla V|*»|n« Btrengtoj; airolhet «e^
he'Wipiied almost pbwerl'esa'from;'the grasp of hiaalmoat eqtiailiy Inipulssant foe, who taking; one step in retreat, raised the dying man from his cfoucli- Ing position, and excliiimed, "That to yourblaik heart',:flend of h—!" drove his reeking bowie-knife deep into hlsl ant^btat's left brepet^ then,clatch|ngl the ilinpse^ trunk wltlibbtb hands,with' bile leap, anij; shriek of exultation, he' sprang into the deep,.broad river. In-; stantly boats were lowered, the steamer stopped, De Benneville rescued, and his dying body drawn to the decki and placed in the saloon for resusoitatioii. The search for Stanbridge's corpse was continued for a short time only. The tide being exceedingly strong, we were quickly carried from the point where the infuriated duelist had been precipitated into the stream.
In the course of half an hour, ivith his gashed, bleeding body contaiuing but a few hours of struggling life, De Benneville was restored to' conscious¬ ness; and requesting those present to grant him the privilege of perfect pri¬ vacy, for the purpose of using the little lime yet left in settling s few necessary worldly matters, and imparting to me, as hia closest friend, hia dying secrets, 1 soon found myself listening to the trembling tones of his weakened voice.
"Fred, my dear boy," spoke tlie gasping man, "I have looked upon you with thesame feeling that would have tilled my bosom could I have gazed upon the dear form of a young brother. Your professional knowledge, doubt¬ less, ere tbia, iiiia told you that the wretched, powerless being now speak¬ ing, will, in the brief period of a few hours, severe his connection with all physical existence and worldly afi'airs. Yes; but a little while, and tho che¬ quered career of Henri De Benneville, once so happy, so trusting, and heart- buoyant, will terminate at the long, long-desired goal—death! But before my spirit wings its .flight from this mundaue realm, to you, whom I would make my dearest, closest confidant, I feel impelled lo impart the secret—the sorrow of twelve bitter, bitter years of my fast-ending life."
Seeinir that theemotions caused by the sadness of the scene were powerfully aflecliug my aelf-coiilrol, with the ten¬ derness of a woman he took my hand in his, saying, "Come, come, Fred, my dear boy, tbe narration of my life-his¬ tory shall require but a short time, for full well I kuow that my uncertain condition renders the abridgement of the recital positively imperative."
With all the fortitude I could C3m- mand, I bade him commence the ex¬ pression of his dying requests, and what other matters it might come wilhin my province to hear. And, in a voice feeble and trembling under deep excitement, and evidently with great paiu, Henri De Benneyille spoke the story of his closing, eventful life.
" I 'H-as born at Troy, New York.— My father, whose family were all af¬ fluent, dealt largely in 'Pennsylvania coal and mining interests, besides being a heavy stockholder in inoatoftbeNew York State aud other railroada. At a proper age, after prosecutiug my preli¬ minary studies, I was sent to Harvard, wliere I graduated with honors in my twenty-second year. Beturuing home, my dear niother having Aed in the in¬ terim, at tbe request of my father and ouly sister, my only blood relations, I determined, after an European tour, to lieeoiuean active buainess partner wilh my surviving paieul. Beaching home after a Continental trip of one year, which I had taken in company with my sister Celia, I at ouce entered the brisk duties of the counting-house; nothing being required to complete tbe happiness I enjoyed wilh my dear father and sister but the companionship of some sweet, cougenial spirit, who should prove, not only a life-partuer, but a fond and loving heart-sharer.— Tbis duly I felt incumbent on me, not only as a man, but as a brother; for Ceila, naturally of a reserved, lieart- clinging temperament, felt the need most urgently of some responsive female soul, that should harmonize with her own. In the person of Emilie G ludstone, the daughter of a physlcianat Troy, and who had been a school-com¬ panion of my sister's, I tliought that at last the void in my heart, the vacuum in our little household, would be boun¬ tifully filled. A courtship of some fourteen monlhs ensued ; aud in all her dazzling beauty, surrounded with her brilliant prospects, I led her to thealtar^ the accomplished, the radiant Emllie Gladstone.
. " For two yeairs I passed an ecatacy of bliss that I had before thought was beyond the reach of frail humanity; It seemed like the realization of some tale of enchantment told by the Arabian talkers; so thrillingly delicious, so in¬ effably bright were those two years of unalloyed happiness.
"At thia time, while visiting at Saratoga, my sister Celia became ac¬ quainted with Charles Stanbridge. The meeting, though accidental at first, aoon grew into a close acquaint¬ ance, for young Stanbridge had been presented by persons of the highest social standing. I quickly learned that though of good family, Charles Stan¬ bridge was exceedingly dissipated, strongly addicted lo gambling, and a finished libertiue, which part he doubt¬ less played wilh great eftect, for he was not only strikingly handsome, but like¬ wise possessed the most incredible con¬ versational fascination. Wilh a broth¬ er's natural solicitude, I poured into the ear of my beautiful, trusting sister, words of advice and admonitioni, coun¬ selling an avoidance of the soft hlan- dishmeuta and potent love-making powers of this gifted soft-tongued de¬ mon. Quickly, however, I realized the unequivocal fact that Celia's heart had already been so fully ensnared that her happiness was at stake, for the blush¬ ing clieek, the downcast eyes, tbe heav¬ ing boaom, and gently trembling form, made visible—brought into action by the bare mention of the villain's name—the ascendancy he had already gained over htr aflectlons. Oh Groa- venor, my dear friend, even now I think I see my augel sister iu her sweet¬ ness—hear her music-like voice as it sounds strong in the defence and favoi- of the black-hearted Charles Stan¬ bridge.
"Buttocoutinue. We returned home at llie close of the watering season. My father contracting a malignant fever, in the course of a few weeks became, ils victim, leaving me to settle his es¬ tale, as be died intestate; my wife and sister needing all the sympathy and friendly intercourse they could obtain lo give them strength to combat the crushing'aflllctions, for my father waa. one of the most affectionate of men. , "My dear Emilie pleaded with ali a woman's strength to be given tbe privi¬ lege of permitting a renewal of Stan¬ bridge's visits, for the doors had been closed against iiim since my father's decease—she, in. sweet confidence, de¬ claring that Celia, in her deep sorrow, needed loving.bearts and. WMrds bt af^' feclion more tiian,ever,and t)b^t,;oiiDg BtanblidKe had offered 8o nnmjf prom- lies of lefbrmation Uiat:!lili.J^n"(>(t>^
amendment was cbi^stdered a certainiy.;
I saw my dear sister,.diyr after dajr,
'wasting in figure, droQping iti splt;its:
under the influence of her unsatisfieil:
lo've, in conjiiiiction with her great dis-!
tress, at my poor ;rather!s .uniooked-foi::   ....
;^e«ai.   In .a wi«k,;inotoent, ihin|i(jt^j^i8Kl|()hni,,j!5^y
It for the i>»t, i, consented; to a rsoon-'' tinuance -ot Oharles-'Stanbridge's )id- dtrasra to toy loving ^stfer;'he «11 the wiiile 'exhibiting tlie most exemplary deportment, and giving the fairest: in- dicatipns of complete reformation.
' "About this time a married aunt liv¬ ing iu Connecticut, and to whom Celia was much attached, we were informed by letter was dying, and requested my sister's presence during lier last, mo- meata. My wife at the time lieing in¬ disposed, I was forced to accompany Celia alone to the homestead of my old aunt—Stanbrldge'bxpressingii wish, as he said farewell, that she would re¬ turn to name the wedding diiy aa soon as respect toher sick relative might permit. In proper time I returned from my journey, finding my wife im¬ proved in health, and with renewed assurance of the reality of Stanbridge's moral improvement.
A month subsequent to this time,upon returning to my home at dinner hour early In the evening, I found iipon the drawing room table two letters, one bearing a New England postmark, and addressed to me, the other with the superscription of jny name only. In the firat I read the dishonor of my sis¬ ter ; for In the gentlest, most delicate manner possible, my dear aunt,'Wb.o had recovered from her proposed fatal indisposition, informed me that my idolised sister, in a moment of fren^Sy and fearful regret, had acknowletiged having 'surrendered, in an unguarded minute of love's intensity, her virgin freshness into the ruthless hands of the passion-wrought, cbnscienceles liber¬ tine. The other missive told of my wife's frailty and desertion; for in all the horrible details, it revealed the damning, fiendish, uncontrollable in¬ fatuation the villain Stanbridge bad gained even over her fond, butyielding heart. How the arch demon ever ac¬ complished his double-handed hellish purpose I know not; for even now tbe revolting facts appear too terrible and unnatural to figure in the pages of an overdrawn romance. Tliougb nearly crazed when thus suddenly, thus un¬ expectedly realizing my heart crushing, uever-to-be-forgoUensorrows,Istroveto retain sufficient strength to perform what little of duty was left for me in this gloomy world—the cousumniation of my deep, my ever-burning revenge.
"My sister Celia, when I arrived at my aunt's household, was a raving maniac, and bore upon her sylph-like, girlish figure the evidence of her owu shame and the seducer's debauch. I was compelled temporarily to engage attendants to prevent her committing self-destruction, and employ Imme¬ diate medical assistance. In a brief period I learned that, through heart¬ rending contrition at her unparalleled conduct, the once darling wife of my bosom had taken her life by means of poison while sojourning with her para¬ mour at a Bt. Iiouls hotel.
" Sitice those momenta of indescri¬ bable horror ihave not iivcd.bnt merely existed for the aqliltiye.nfents of my all- absorbing .reyenM^Aiid though he lias crouched a^^^lunk from his fate for twelve long, weary years, by seeking California and Europe aa a certain cov¬ ert, besides assuming false names and traveling incognito to avoid detection, until a subterfuge report of my death, circulated by my own agenta, gave him apparent freedom frim moleatalion, Charles Stranbridge has this day met bis doom, and slaked the burning thirst of my madilening revenge. But, Gros- venor, my dear friend, I feel myself losing my life grip; and now that you know the causeof Henri DeBennevIIle's ferocity and flendishness, as shown in his recent encounter with hia direst foe, let me ask that I have your fervent prayers to be forgiven by the great Doer of ali things, for what some may term a murder, but what to me seems but a simple deed of never-failing jus¬ tice. Farewell, my dear friend; Henri De Benneville has played his last game, not only at cards, but Jias run out bis last hand at the great game of life."
A feeble waving of the hand, a mut¬ tered farewell, and the soul of Henri De Benneville, the gentleman gambler, on tbe pinions of Death, had passed to the throne ot judgement.
I ascertained by an after inspection of his papers, that he had secured a hand¬ some annuity, to support and give proper attention to his poor lunatic sis¬ ter, living in private apartments in a Connecticut insane asylum. Whilst even' now, as I gaze with sad fondness and friendship's deep regret, upon tbe. little sparkling souvenir in the form of a diamond ring upon my finger, am I led to drop a tear^ a i^ar of profound feeling and extreme melancholy when I think of poor De Bennevllle's last game and ita horrible narrative.
'h'p;'generally found,ibis infanttgoblin asleep^under'ibls-teble'or'roastibg bis curly hea.i< by the.open.llre-;place;''^a'n'd the iaii!ciil6f,'w'><ilii I>ie^ up; tlie piilld aud trudge off to bed with: tho.'drowsy little burden on his shoulder,' sWopltlg under the dpoiS anil dodging the chan¬ deliers,. ThePresident took infinite «on- fort in. the ohild'srude heal til, fresh fun, uncontrollable boisterbuanesii. He wits pleased to'see hiin growing up in ignor rance.of bilbks, bHt'witb singularly ac¬ curate ideas of practical matters. He was a fearless rider; while yet so smitll that his legs stuck ou t horizon tally from the saddle. He had that power of taming and attaching- animals to him¬ self, which seems the special girt of kindly and^ uplettered naturea. '¦ Let him run,'' tlie easy going President would say; "hehas time enough left to learn hisictters and 'get poky. faSB was juat such a little rascal, and now he isa very deceiitjboy." : -i
It was evident, that with;all his iii- subordiuation'snd reckeless mischief the spoiledi'ch'ilil'vwaa.at heart of a truthful aiid generous nature. He treat¬ ed flatterers and. ofiflce seekers with a curious coldness and contempt, but he often espoused the cause of some poor widow or tattered soldier, whom .he found waiting in the ante-rooms, and it was most amusing to see the hearty lit¬ tle fellow dragging his shabby porleges into the Executive presence, ordering the ushersoutof the way, aud demand¬ ing immediate action from headquar¬ ters. "The ¦President .rarely refused, a grace of this kind,, and the demands Were not so frequent as lo loae the charm of novelty.
One of the tricks into wliich his Idleness and his enterprise together drove him, was tbe occasion of much laughter to the judicious, and much hbrror to the respectable in Washing¬ ton'. Helnvested, oue moruing, all his pocket money in buying the stock in trade of an otd> woman wbo sold gin gerbread near the Treasury. He made the Government carpenters give bim a board and some trestles, whicli he set up in tbe imposing porte-cochere of the White;House, iind on this rude counter diaplayed his wares. Every ofiice seeker who entered- the house that morning bought a toothsome luccheoii of the keen little lucrchaut, and when an hour after tbe opeuing of the boolli a member of the housebould discovered the young pastryman the admired ceu- ter of a group of grinning servants and toadies, he had filled his pockets and hat with currency, the spoil of the American public. The juvenile oper¬ ator made lively work of his ill-gotten gains, however, anil befoie night was penniless again.
Although still a mere child at tbe death of his father, this terrible shock greally sobercil and steadied him. His brother Eobert at once took charge of his education, and he made rapid pro¬ gress up to the time of his sailing for Europe with his mother. He has ever siutje remained witb her, displaying a thoughtful devotion and tenderness be¬ yond hla Years, and strangely at var¬ iance, with the in'iscbi.evoig.„tbpught- leasneta of "ills childhood. :He~-!came back a short while ago, greatly improv¬ ed by his residence abroad, but always tbe same cordial, frank, warm-hearted boy. In his loss tbe already fearfully bereaved family will suffer a new and deep aflSictiou, and the world, which' never did and uever will know him, |*will not withhold a tribute of regret for the child whose gayety and afl'ection cheered more than anylliing else the worn and weary heart of the great Presideut through the toilsome years of the war.—JV. Y. Tribune.
¦When yiin'sBe'a rBEged iircWn " I •Slm'din'g'idsfnillnttfff'streert,': • ,-,'WHh torn tut aiialineeltutrowBets, '¦ .D.l^^,^cp*iid haroTsd Ieet-7  ; , . ' ^088 not by th^ child nnbeeding— -. '•''Smiie'nponiilni.' Mark'ine! when    „ ,,
'fie'swStWii'hiB'll'not forget :'•' . .^.i;or,.r6Qien^t^l'>'bo^>>iake.meDf .  ;-
, 1 yfben the bijo^eint. yoiitblnl spirits Overflow in boyish ftiai,'   '''• ' ; -Chide yonr child In gehtleaccents— ¦'.¦ .Dohotlnyonrange^^pea^.'
- YdamustsowlnybutUfnliiosoms
. Seeda of tender mercy; then . ^Plants wUl grow and make good fruitage When the erring boys make men.
Have you never seen a graudslro Wita his eyes'aglow with joy.
Bring to mind some,act of kindness- Something said to'hlm. a boy?
Or relate some slighter coldness. With a brow oJI clouded, when
He said they were too thoughtless   . To remember boys make men 1
Let ua try to add some pleasure To the life of every ijoy,
- For each child needs tender interest : . In its sorrow and its joy.   '
¦ Call your boys honie by its brightness— :   They avoid a gloomy.'den. And will seek for conifor't elsewhere; 1 i - -A'nd, remember^ boys make men 1
TAD LINCOLN.
Most of those who read the dispatch announcing the death of Thomas Todd Lincoln will never think of this well- grown young gentleman wbo died on Saturday at Chicago. The name of " Tad"—a pet name given by himself wilh bis first stammering utterances and adopted by his 'fond parents and the world—recalls the tricky little sprite who gave to that sad and solemn White House of the great war the only reyef it knew. The years that have followed, spent in study end travel, produced an utterly different person. The Tad Lin¬ coln of our history ceased to exist long ago. The modest and cordial young fellow who passed through New York a few weeks ago with his mother will never be known outside of tbe circle of bis mourning friends. But "littleTad" will be remembered long as any live who bore a personal share iu the great m ovements whose centre for four years was at   Washington.
He was so full of life and vigor—so bubbling over with liealth 4ind high spirits, that ho kept the house alive with his pranks and his fantastic en> terprises. He was always a " chartered libertine," and after the death of his brother Willie, a prematurely serious and studious child, and the departure of Bobert for college, he Installed him¬ self as the absolute tyrant of tbe Ex¬ ecutive Mansion. He was idolized by both bis father and mother, petted and indulged by his teachers, and fawned upon and caressed by that noisome horde of ofiice seekeia' whieh infested the ante-rooms of the White House. Be had a very bad opinion of iMoks and no opinion of discipline, and thought very little of any tutor who would not assist him.in yoking his kids to a chair or In driving his dogs tandem overtheSouth Lawn, He was as shrewd as be was lawless, and always knew whether he could make a tutor serviceable or not. If he found one with obstinate ideas of the snperibrlty of grammar to kite fly- 'ing as an Intellectual employment^ he soon ibuqd jneenii of gelting rid of him./Hehad'ao mmsh to dothathe tat he obni:d:ilat;WiBtiBtlnietii letimUic
THB BEST WOKAN.
I think old women—I don't quite like the word " lady," because it doesn't mean anything, now a-duys-are the most beautiful and lovable thiugs in the world. They are ao near Heaven that tbey catch the glow and bright¬ ness which radiate from the pearly gateaand illuminate their faces. When the hair begins to silver, and tbe em¬ bers In the fire grow cold, and the sun bas got so far around in life's horizon that the present makes no shadow, while the past stretches down the hill¬ side to a little mound of earth where we will rest for a season-a little mound not big enough to hold our corner lots, and marble fronts, and safes, which we shall have to leave on the other side of the hill, but liig enough, I trust, to hold our memories and fancies, our air cas¬ tles and secrets; and when the journey is nearly done, and the night is setting in, and tbe darkness begins to gather around us without any stars, and the birds sing low in the trees, and the fiowers wither and die, and the music we hear comes from afar, strangely sweet, like sounds coming over the wa¬ ter, and like little children we live within ourselves, and the world gradu¬ ally recedes from us—then I should like to be an old woman, full of blessed memories and peaceful anticipations.
I think I know the best woman in the world, and I think the one I know bas the kindest heart, and the dearest face, and the most caressing hand, and tbe most undying devotion among all women. Her eyes were once to me the boundaries of tbe world, and weie tbe first things I ever looked into, aud pray Heaveu they may also be the last I shall look Into. And I think tbe beat womau every other man knows has all these qualities in tite same degree. And I think there is not one of us who has strayed so ftir. from tbat womau— the best of all women—not one of us so calloused with the strife and toil of life; not one of us in the midst of difll- cully and danger, who does riot feel the invisible arms around hira to. shield him, and who does not long to go back to the arms and love of that woman, and to rest, as we rested before our feet got into the fiioly roads, upon the breast of our mother.
"Martha,'' said James, "what letter In the alphabet do you like beat?" Martha didn't like to say, but the young man Insisted. "Well," was her final answer, as she dropped iier eyes, "I think I like U best."
The best of lessons for a good many people, would be to listen at the key- bole. 'Tis a pity for such that the prac¬ tice is dishonorable.
Many in seeking religion, leave not the realm of self-love, ond they never rise higher than a piety which Is but selfishness iiitenslfied.
The duties of justice are preferable to the studies and duties of knowledge, relating as they do to the interests-of the human race. ^
. It fa by whatwe piirseives have done, ¦nd,not.by what othenihaTe' done for ob; Ihat we shall be ieiDaeinbeied' by in
A STOE'y FOE THE IITTIE FOLKS.
puppet;  -   • Puppet had two occupatibris. Sbehad also aguitar and a haif-bushel basket. These   things   were  her   capital—her stock in trade. k
The guitar belonged to one of her occupalioiis, the half-bushel basket to the other.
In couaideratiou to her flrst employ¬ ment, she might have been called a street guitarist. In consideration of her second, slie might have been called a beggar—a broken-bit beggar.
Puppet would iiaye been considered, among la>yyers, "shrewd;" or, at a mothers' meeting, "cunning;" or, among buainess men, "sharp." This is to say, she kiiew a',thing or two. She knew that beiug able to sing no aonga was a disadvantage to her first occupation, as a large hole, half-way up hei- basket, was an aJyautuge to her second.
It seems odd that ahole in one's begging basket should bean advantage. But because of the hole, she had al- wiiys behind her a crowd of dogs, that seemed to have been just dropped from the basket, the last one never having fairly got hia uose out; and because of the dogs she waa known as "Puppet" all over the city.
To be known by a characteristie name is of great advantage to a beggar. If Biddy, looking from the basement door, says to the cook, "Och, an' there comes up the street our little Puppet, with ber dogs all behiud her, carrying her basket," cook is much more likely to see the broken bits "botherin' roun' on the shelves o' the cubbid," then she would be if Biddy should say, "Shure, an' lliir come to us a dirty beg¬ gar, it is."
But it is with Poppet's first occupa¬ tion, and not lier second, that we have to do. If you bad not read more de¬ scriptions of faces withinthe last year than you can possibly remember in all the years of your life put together, I world tell you what sort of a face Pup¬ pet's waa; that was a bright face with blue eyea, just the color of the blue rib¬ bon that went firat round the guitar's neck and then around Puppet's; that Ptlppet's teeth- were as white as the mother-of-pearl pegs that held her gui¬ tar strings at the bottom; that her cheeks were as white as the ivory keys; that her hair was long and yellow- just the shade cif tho guitar's yellow face.
But tbat would be very much like a dozen other faces that you have seen, so I will only say that it was a smiling Utile face.
Jl smiled us it bent over tho guitar, while the little fingers picked their ways iu aud outamoug thestrings; and itsmiled yet more aweetly aa she looked up to catch the cappers thrown from the fourth and'flflb story and .sky-parlor windows.
Puppet on.!e lived wilh a man who said that be was her uncle; and she believed him so thoroughly, that she let bim box her ears whenever he felt like il, till he died. Since then Puppet had lived almost friendless and alune. One hot. July day; Puppet was wan¬ dering through the stteels of .the great city, with her lillle guitar uuder her little arm. The city did not seem so great lo Puppet na it does to the rest of ua, because she was born and brought up there.
"O, dear," sighed Puppet, "what a mean place you are!"
No.ono had giveu her a copper since the coolof theevening. People seemed to have a fancy for spending their cop¬ pers on soda water and ice-cream.
"^What shall I do?" moaned Puppet. What ever should abe do ? Puppet must have coppers or she could not live.
She sat in a cool, shaded conrt, close lo the busy street; but she couldn't get away'from the heat, and the iioise, and the people sighing, like herself. " O dear, Odear!"
"I'll try once more," said '.Puppet, tuning her guitar.
She played "Home, Sweet Home," wilh variations. But all the people who heard her were auffering because their homca in liie city were rather hot than sweet. "Home, Sweet Home" could win no pennies from "city folks" in July.
Then Puppet whistled to. her guitar accompaniment a little "Bird Waltz," and whirled on the pavement iu time, till I doubtif abe lieiself knew whether the guitar had gone mad and was waltziug about her,'or she was w.iltz- Ing about the giiilar.
A boy came (lancing inlo the court singiug-
" O, whistle, and I'll como to you, my lad! O, whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad 1"
But he danced out again without leav¬ ing a penny behind him; so it would have beeu juat aa well if he had never come in. Still, he amused himself for a few minutes, which not many per¬ sons were able lo do in that hot July midday.
Puppet went from the little court, and wandered on and on. At last sho left the city far behind her.   .
And out and away from the city there were green fields.
Puppet had heard of green fields, but she had never seen any face to face he- fore. As she looked at them, she had a dim remembrance that she had heard that they were covered with long, wav¬ ing grass. But all these fields were close shaven like the beautiful mouse- colored horses ih the city.
It was pleasant, but not very exciting to a city girl. Tho city girl presently grew tired of it.
" There seems to be liouses farther along," she said; "I'll go and play there."
Puppet slung the little guitar about her little neck, und started off again.
Presently she came to a cottage, with a little green yard in front of it, and in the middle of the little gresn yard was
a great green tree. V .'
- ', Puppetsat down on the greeu,grass,
leaned against the tree, and felt - very
¦ -A lad^ was sitting by ani open 'win¬ dow/sewing; She was sitting'so' that Puppet'Could only see a bit of her left bheek, abd her dark bair, Just begin¬ ning to ta'Ai'gray, and her rl^ht hand as she.brodght the needle 'up from'h'er wofk. From what she did see, Puppet tUoogbt that she would give her some¬ thing to eat, if she could but fcet heri attention. Surely, she must be often hungry herself, or why should she have ao many gray hairs ?
Puppet, leaning against the tree, ran her fingers over the guitar frets In light harmonies; but the lady did not look. Her thoughts must be far away, in a quiet and happy place, that Puppet's harmonies should seem a part of that place.
The guitar broke into a low, mourn¬ ful minor. - Still the lady gave no heed to Puppet.
Puppet was feeling very hungry. She would play the Fandango. That must rouse anyone. She began at the most rattling part.
The gray-haired lady looked round quickly. " Bless me, bless me! what's this?" Seeing a little girl out by the tree, she put her sewing on the table, and came to the door and inlo the yard. "Dear me! a little girl with yellow hair; and I juskhave been dreaming of a little girl with yellow hair!"
"Is anything tbo matter with my hair, mum ?" Puppet stopped playing, and ran her hands through tbe yellow mass of uncombed locks.
" Ob, no, little girl, there is nothing the matter with your hair. Only—" The lady was thinking how soft aud fine and curly was the yellow hair of which she had been dreaming.
"What do you want?" asked the lady.
"I'm very  hungry,"   said   Puppet, " because of the walk, and—and—all," coucltided Puppet,  remembering tbat the lady could uot understand. "Come iu, then."
Puppet went iu.   Up in one corner of the sitting-room were a little tip-cart and a doll.   Puppet ate her bread and meat, looking hard at Hie tip-cart. "Where is it, niuin'?" "Where is what, child." "The child, mum."   Puppet pointed to the tip-cart. "Gone, my dear," said the lady softly. "Dead?"   Puppet remembered that tliat was what tbey said about her uncle when he went away.   It was the only going away tbat she iiad ever known. " Yea, I suppose so," said the lady, with a little shiver. "Thai's bad, mum." "No, not," said the lady, sorrowfully. " It is just right lliat it should be so." " But it mnst be lonesome like, un¬ less there were kicks and things." Pup¬ pet was still thinking of her uncle.
Tbe lady wondered what the child could mean, and not knowing, said— " What'a your uame?   How could I have forgotten to ask j'our name." "Puppet."
"That's a funny name. Aud where do you live?"
"Two  or  three   miles  away   from here." "Have you walked hereto-day?" "Yea, mum."
"What should make the child walk so far, I wonder?" "Money, mum, and things to eat." "Have you eaten enough?" "Yes.   I_mu3t go home now, or I shall be late."
" Are you sure you kuow the way," asked   the  lady,   a   little   anxiously. "You're such a lillle thing!" "O, yes, mum!   Go as 1 came." " Well, Eood-by." "Good-by, mum."
But was Puppet sure thafsbe knew tbe way ?
The next morning, a man walking on a road that ran by the edge of a meadow, was going to hia work.
Hark! What did he hear? Was it a cry ? And what was that? Itsound- ed like a fiddle. He stopped to look around.   Wus that a child's cry.
" I declare, we've had a high tide iu the night!" said lie,  aud trudged on. But what wns that?   That was cer¬ tainly a child's cry. Tbe man looked sharply about. "It can't be she,'' he said.    "Folks from heaven wouldn't cry, even if they were let to come—at least, if they were little children.!'
And so he still looRed sharply about. Aud looking, what did he see?
He saw great haystacks of meadow hay out iu the meadow, wilh the tide¬ water all about tbem. Then his eyes were fixed on one particular haystack. Ou its top, with her yellow hair and smiling face iu sight, was—it could not be, though—but it was—a little giri.and dangling by the side ofthe stack was a guitar wilh a yellow face. The man waded tlirough the water that .lay be¬ tween the dry land and the stack.
"Crawl down to my shoulders;" and he stood by the side of the stnck till she waa on his shoulders, with   her arms about his neck. "How came you ther«?" "I weut everywhere to try   to get home aud   it  was   dark,   all  but the moon; aud   I saw   the   stack, and a board went from the ground to Uie top of it." "Sure enough, the prop." "Audi wasso tired!" "Poor child!"
"And I never saw the water coma before, and it was only wet enough to wet my feet when -I got up."
" Well, well! We'll go home and get| something to eat."
The man walked inlo his kitchen, with the little girl and the guitar on his shoulder.
" Why, John, are you back ? Dear me, if there .isn't that aame child— Puppet!"
John went off to hia work again.— Puppet ate her breakfast, and told her atory, and theu said—
" Please, mum, may I pay with the cart?" And because of her yellow hair she might play with the cart.
" Bnt aren't you sick, and oughtn't you to taken some medicine, and go to bed?" asked the lady, whose hair had grown gray over sickness and medicine.
Puppet meditated. She felt very well- She thouglit that she had rather play with the tip-cart than to take medicine. So she played all day, and went to bed at night.
At night John came home from his work, and, as usual, heard of all that had happened through the day.
"I wish we could keep the little thing Jobn, dear. She bas yellow hair, justlike—
" Yes," said John, "I saw."
" And she'd be such a comfort!"
"Ifshe didn't die by-and hy," said Jon.
"But Johu, dear, juat think of a little thing like ber spending the night in the middle of a meadow, with the water all about her.
Jobn thought. And he thought that if she could stand that without being sick, she.could stand their love with~ odt dying.   ]
SoPappetand the guitar live with
TEE COliFOBISiOF OLO SHOES.
Sufferers who moan over new shoes will relish this pleasant bit from the Chriatiari Union:' Nothing seems to af¬ fect the vitality of the old shoe. Its characteristic age postulates • at once freedom from the restraints and afflic- tionsofyouth—thatis, newness. Hence its benignant look. Hence its comfort¬ ing appearance. Like a weather-beaten frigate, It smiles upon you from each yawning seam and worn-out button¬ hole. How easily does .it fit, and Iiow snugly do j-ou nestle within it! Wa¬ ter only makes it the softer, and you are never anxious after its welfare in mud. Even in a new shoe the stand¬ ard of beauty is at best capricioua.
Now fashion decrees "square" toes, now "round toes, and now "box" toes. To-day, she uods graciously at shoes of kid; to-morrow she deifies shoes of cloth. Bullous are lirat Iier detesta¬ tion, and then lier admiration. Buck¬ les she loved, and soon buckles he hates. Now, beauty you do not look for iu old ahoe, no more tban you ex¬ pect the proportiona of a Venua de Medici in your aged grandmother, or the brightness of azsire aud crimaon in the starry flag when blackened with powder and riddled witb shot amid the thickening smoke uf the baltle. It would enibuirusa you if you fouud it, aud you should be reluctant lo outrage its graceful aymmelrj' and luxuriotis- ness of shape by inserliiig therein your ungainly foot.
Iu a shoe, beauty ia but cloth or leather deep, aud were one to limit his afleciion to the mere surface of tbeahoe bis love would be truly suiicrficiul. Every scar, every gaali, every di.'-jointed seam, every erujition on the side, or abrasion on the solo—the.se only add to your alfection. Love aoon changes into reverciici, as day after day tbe marks of age rapidly iucrease. Tlie shoes so often worn is uow treading the down¬ ward i)alh; and, ut last, when relent- neas fashion condemns the shoe as "shabby," because, forsooth, the ouce radiant leather is wreathed iu rings of snow, theouce gorgeous buttons iiave disappeared, uud tlie formerly sedate button-holes yawn beyond all decency, then fittingly, though reluctantly, you part with it. Its uaefulness bas now passed lo a higher stage; one might almost call it a translation. You pluce lion some dingy shelf in a din¬ gier closet, along with perhaps an old hat or coat, and other memorials of de¬ parted greatues.", there to muse sadly over the ilccay of glory and fickleness of'forlune, us exemplified even in a shoe.
 LEa.AL   NOTICES,   _
AnMINISTRATOKS'  NOTICE.
Estateof Christian Eby, lute of Kapho towuship, decreased.
IETTERSof adraliiistrntion on said eslntc > having been granted to the mnlerKigneil. ull pci'Hous indebitid thereto ure reqneAtcd to iniiUelniniedhite piiyiuunt. mid tlioso liuvlng chiinis or deinand-i ugaiiii.t the aame will pr«- Kent them fur seltlemeut to the undersigned residing In uuid twii.
JACOB EBY. GEUHGK EBY, JiilylO C*t 30 AdminisLraio.s.
LEGAL    NOTICES.       '
AVDITOa*S 2VOTICE.     ¦       -¦ ¦ ¦'
Assigned Estate of Charles Sharpless, of Sadsbury township, Xjftncasrerco.
THE nnderaifcned AodUor.appolnled^lO'JIfi- trlbatetbebalaiuieranmlalDsJntiTehttoUif or Wiltlitm A>-MortoD. aaslgnee to and aniung those legaUrWlltled to tbe name, will sit fur that purpose ou ftATURI>A.Y, AllOUdT 5ht, 1871, at 10 o'clock. A, M., lu the Llhrury room of the Court Houae. In the city dC Uihi?:iat*r, where all persons Interested in-niia 'dlKtritiu- tlon may attend. ¦        i^--
w. A. wir^^^oy,
JnlyR t.i:^l Audllor.
AVDlTOR*H notice:
Assigned Estate of Samuei.\>^echtef, of
Weat Earl lownsliip, Iiancaster
county.
THE nndersl;;nc(l Auditor, appointed to dis¬ tribute the balance remaining In tbe haadn of Henry Kafroth, assignee of Huid Samut^l Wechter, lo and among Ihoso legally entilled to the Hamc. will sit fur thnt purpose on FRIDAY, the lllh day of AyOUsT, iti71. jil Hi o'eloclf. a. m.. in the LIbrai-y. tlodtn at the Court ilou.se. In the rlly of LancsHtf-r, where all persons inieresled in said dlatribu- lion niity attend.
E.BL'UKnOLDER,_, Julys td .11 '   AuaiiorT
AVikiToir.s Noricr.       •*
Assigned Estate of Jacob Helt, of Ka- pho towusliip, Lancaster counly.
TTIHundprxisni'd Aulltor,appolntwl to dis¬ tribute the lijilancrf remaining fn the limnli of Daniel R llumaker. asslgute of said Jucob Ueit, IO and among tluihelegiilly entlil^^il to thesame, will sit for that puni.ixe on TUES¬ DAY, the 8lh of AUGUST. I^71. ut.10 u'eiock, A. M., in the I-ibrary room of IIie„Conrt Ilonsr-, in the city of Laiicasier. where all persouj* Interested if*Mild dlftirfontlon mav aitenrt:
JUaN ENaMlNGKK. . . JuIyStd3^ " AndKot.-
ArniTOlLN* NOriC'E.
Estate of Elizabeth Fritz, late of Lan¬ caster (iountv, deceased. ; THEunderslgned Auditor's, ap[K)lnted to dl.slriUiiie tho balanre remninlng in lhu hands ol Benjamin Krilz Sr, a^lmlulsir^lor. toand among tltose le^fally cntllleil \o the same, will Kit for that purpose on FRIDAY, AUOUiST -Ith.im.aLlU o'cloclc. A. M:, iu the Library room of the Onuit House, In the Cfty of Laucasier. wlieru all persons iutarested hi said distribution miiy atl«ni1.
W. A. WILPOX. AMOS yL.AYMAKEU, Julys Id ill Auditors.
Ari>IT4lR*S NOTICE.
Estate of Amelia Jane Sherman, late of
East Donegal township, dfc'd. ' niHE uudorsisned Auditor appointed todl.')- Xtributkj ttie balance remalniug lu thu hauds of John H.Zeller, Executor of said deceasefl, to and nmoiiK thouu h gaily entitled to iho same.wi 11 sll for Ihat purpose on THURSDAY, AUGUST ;M,A.I>.. 1871. at iO o'clocic a. lo. in the Lihntry IlotHU nf the Conrt House. In ti.u riiy of Limcaster. where all persons luterest¬ ed In said distrlhutiou may atlend.
C. M. MARTIN. julylS td —I Auditor
AVOITOKS' NOTICE. "'
Estateof Patrick McEvoy, Iateof Jfan- heini township, deceased.
THE nndt-rslgned Audiior. appointed to, dis-• tritmte the balance remulnlng in the hiCildn of Kight Kev. James F. WiXid. J^nten T. Dunn and Siimutil 11. Rpynolds, exi-cutorfi. to aud among lliose legally eutltlt-d lo ilit^ sitme, win sit for Ihat purpose on FRIDAY. AU* aUriT4lh. 1871, nt 'Z o'clock. P. M., In ihe-LI- brary roimi of Ihe Court House, iu the cily of umcaster, where all pt-rsons luteieiiied in said dihtributiou mity atlend.
\V. A.  WII^ON, WM. CAUPKNTEIt.
AUDITOK\S NOTICE.
Estate of Jacob Funk, late of Marietta
borough, Laucaster oouuly,
deceased.
THE undersigned Auditor, appointed to dis- tribate the balance remaining in the hands of Christian Stlbgen, adnilulslruUir of eshite of Jacob Funic dtKieased. to and among- those legally entitled to the SHine, wilt sttinr ihat purpose on FRIDAY. AUGUST -1, at lOo'clock, a. ni.. in the Wbrary Room of the Court Houho in tlie Cily of Lanca'*I«r, where all pt;i>ous interested in said distribution may attend. E. U. Ri--ED, Julys td ¦•» Audllor.
Al>}IlNISTKATOir.S NOTICE.
Estate of John B. Muller, late of the City of Laucaster, dec'd.
J' ETTERS of Adiiiinlstrallon on said estate J haviug been granted to the undersigued, all persons ludebted tliereto are requested to make immediate paymen*. and those having claims ur demauds against, tlie same will pre¬ sent them for settlement to the I'uderslgned, residing lu said City.
^r^.- PH.U.RANNINGER,
Adruinistrator. DanielG. BAKKR, Attorney.
July 10 30 CL
AD.1I1NI.STKATOK.V NOTICE.
Estate of Henry Ressier, late of War¬ wick township, deceased.
LETTERS of administration on said estate having been granted to the undersigned, all persons i udebted thereloare requested to make immediatepayinunt,uud those liavlugcluini> or demands against the same wlli present them for settlement to the undersigued, resid¬ ing lu said township.
JJANCY RESSLER. MANELIUri ItESriLEU, HENRY ItEssLER,
JESiiK Landis, Attorney
Administrators. JnlyIO(>*t
AD»[NISTJtATOR\<9    NOTICE.
Eatate of Catliarine llortiug, late of Salisbury township, dec'd.
I ETTERS of Administration on said eslntc J having been granted l« tho undersigned, all persons indebted thereto, aro requested to make Immediate payment, and those haviug claims or demands against the same, will pre¬ sent thein without delay for settlement to the uudorsigucd, residing; in suid township. DAVID DOUrUlCH, julyl2C*ta5 Adiu'nisualor.
ACUITOK'S NOTICE.
Estateof Thomas G. ICeud^rsoii, Iateof
Salisbury townsliip, dec'd. ri'HE undersigned Audllor, appointed by the JL Orphans' Uourt of Lancaster counly. i'u,; to distribute the balance remaining lu thu hands:t>r \V. C. Henderson and Samuel J. Henderson administrators of ihe estule of said deceiisetl, to and imioug tliose lifgal- iy entitled to the same, win attend for tbat pur¬ pose ou THUltSDAV. AUGUST 3d, 1871, at 2 o'clock p. m., in the Linrary Room ot the Court Uouse In tlie cily of Liuncaster, where all persons interested in said distribution may atlend.
GEORGE NAUMAN. Julyl td 51 Auditor.
ArniTOR*A   NOTICE.
Estate of George Foust, Iateof Lancas¬ ter township, Laucaster couuty, deceased.
THEunderslgned Auditor, appointed to dis¬ tribute the balance re naining In thehandi of Johu Johns, administrator cum testamenlo anuexoofGeon;eFoust,deceased.to and among those legally entitled to Ihe same, will sit lor Ihatpuipo-seon FRIDAY, AUGUST 4,1S7I, at ¦J o'clock, p. r.i., in ihe Library Room of Iho Court House, In tlie ciiy of Lancaster, where all p.!r.>ions iuieresied lu said distrlbuilou may attend.
E.H. YUNDT, julyl td 31 Auditor.
AVDITOU'8 NOTICE.
Assigned   Estate of Samuel   Binkley and wife, of Jlanor township, Lan¬ caster county. THE underslgiiid Auditor, appointed by the Court of Common i'leas ofsaid county Id distribute    the  baluuce   remaining    In tho iiaudsofjohn  Gingrich, und John Brenner, assignees of  the  said   Samuel   Binkley and wife, to and among those legally entitled to the same, will ulteud for that purpuuse on SATURDAY,  the  Sth   day of August. A.   D.. IS71. at^ o'clock. P. M.,ln tho Library room ofthe Court House, In the city of Laiiccster, where all persons interesled in said distribu¬ tion may uitend.   W. E. SLAYMAKEtt. Jr.. .• July 4  t 33 Auditor.
EXECUTORS'   NOTICE.
Estate of Curtis Fanckhotiser  lato of West Earl township, dec'd.
LETTERS testamentary ou said eslute hav¬ ing been granted to the uudersigned.ali persons indebted thereto are rcquestedto make immediate settlement.andthosehaviugciaim or demands asjainst the same will present tliem without delay for settlement to the un¬ dersigned Executors.
GKURGE FANCKHOUSER, Residing In Upper Leacock twp. EDWARD FANCKHOUSER: Residing in West Earl twp. J uly 15 O't:^)
NOTICE.
ELizAnrrrii WEiN3iri.T,EK,"i    Alias   Suh.   for by her next friend I Divorce.
Nicholas Gardner,      V
vs. I  June Term," 1871.
FEnDINANDWBINMII.I,Ea.J JNo.-l:i.'
To Ferdinand Wkinmii-ler:
YOUa re hereby notifled tbet depositions of witnesses to be read In evlilence in the above case.on partof petitioner, will betaken before the Cumjulssiouer appointed by said -Court for that purpose, at his oflice. No. 19 North Duke street. In thecity of Lancaster, on FRIDAY. AUGUST 11. lS71.at2 o'clock, p. m., when and whero you may attend if you tltinlc proper.
WM. R.WILEY, julyI2 td 35          Cominlsshtner.
AUDITOR'S NOTICE.
Estate of Benjamin King, Iateof East
Lampeter township, tJeceased. ^pHE undersigned   Auditor,   appointed    To
1 distribute tbe balauc«* remaining lu the hauds of Uldeoo Fisher, surviving executor ofsaid deceased, to and among those legally entitled lo thesame, will sitfor thatpurp(»su on SATURDAY, August Sth, 1S71 at 9 o'clock,- A. M., in the Library rotmi of tbe Court HouKc. in the olty of Lancaster, where all perbous interested to said distributloa may atte'id.
C. H. HOFFMAN.
julyl Id 31 Auditor.
AUDITOR'S   NOTICE.
Estate of John 11. Sherk, late of West Hemplield township, dec'd.
THE undersigned Auditor, appointed to dis- tribute the tialauce remaining the hards uf Lucinda Sherk aud Emanuel Sherk.. ud- ministrutois to and among those legally entilled lo Ihe same, will sit for tliat purposeouFRlDAY.AUGUST-l,al 10 o'clock. a. m., in the Library Room of the Court House, in thoclly of Laucasier. where all per- MUis inlertsted In saUl distribution muv at¬ tend. GEORGE M. KLINE, jniyl.'i td 3.) Auditor.
AlTI>ITOK'S NOTICE.
Assigned Estateof Edward H Bryan and wife, of Conoy township, Lancaster co., decease*!.
THE undersigned Auditor, appointed by the Court of Common I'lims of said conuiy to dtstrlbute the balance remaining lu tbe bands.' of Jacob B. Meckley usslt^nee of Ibe sa d Edward H. Bryan aud wlie, to and among fiose legully eniitled lo thesame. will uitend for that purpose on \VEDNE-»DAY theOth day of August A.D. 1871,at lOo'ciouk. a.m. in ihtt Library Room of the Court House in the city ol Liiucaster, where all persoui i nie rented. In said distribution may attend.
JOHN KOB. June2S -1123 Auditur.
ADHINISTKATORS' NOTICE.
Estate of John ICreider, (Fuller,) late of West Lampeter township,   deceased,
IETTERS of Administration on said estate J having beeu granted tnthenndersigued,alt persons indebted tliereio ure rcijuesled lo make immediate payment, aud those having cluims or demainU against tbe estate of thtr decedent, will make the same kuowu tutheia without delay.
JOHN H. KREIDER. ANDttKW MEHAFFEY, Admlnistrattirrf. J. B. Livingston, Att'y. JuneSl (i*t 32  .
AUDITOR'S NOTICE.
Estiite of Joseph Warfel, late of Con¬ estoga township, Laucaster co., deceased. rpHK undersigned Auditor, appointed to dis- Xtnlnte the balance remaining In the hauns of Georue Wurlel and Valentine Warfel, exec- utora of said deceased, lo aud among ihose legally entitled to tbe same, will attend  for that purpose on SATURDAY, llie 12th day of AUGUSTA. D.1S71. at lOo'clock a. m.. lu the Library RfMiiimf the Court House In the City ofLanujister, wbereall persons luterested in said distribution may attend-       , July 12 35 td W. LEAMAN. Auditor
PROFESSIONAL.
AUDITOR'S NOTICE.
Estate of John K. Landes aud wife, of Epiirata twp., Lancaster county.
THE undersigued Auditor, appointed todls- tribute tlie balance reiiii'lulni; In the hands of Adam Kouichmaclii-r, assignee of said J. K. liundes and wife, to and among those legally entit>cd to the same, will sit lor that purpose on THURSDAY, ihe 3rd of AU¬ GUST 1^71, ut 10 o'clock, A. M.. lathe Library nwira of the Court Houite, In the cliy of i>au- caster. where all persons laterested In sahl distribution may attend.
SAMUEL NISRLEIY, July 8 Ul 31 Audllor.
AUDITOR'S NOTICE.
Estate of Jobn Bcheafter,  late ofthe
city of Lancaster, Lancaster co.,
deceased.
THEunderslgned Auditor, appointed to dis- tilbute the balance remaining In tliehands of Joslah H. Sheafler und David Hochstetter, admlnistrulorsol said deceased, to and among those legally entitled to tbe same, will attend for t hat purimse on KUl DAY, AUGUST 1MS7I, alio o'clock a.m., in the Library Rootn of tbe Court Houue in the ciiy of Lancaster, where all persous Interested iu said distribution may attend.
ANDREW M. FRANTZ. Julys td 34 Auditor.
AUDITOR'S  NOTICE.
Assigned   Estate of John Sener
and Lan-
wil'e,  of   Pequea  township, caster county.
THE nnderslgned. Auditors   appointed   by tbe C-ourt of Common Pleas of aald county topaisuprmtheexceptlonsllledtothenccount of said estate, and to distribute  the balance remalulng in thehandsof BenjaminO.Getx, and William McMalUan, assignees,   to and amoDg those letially  eutltled to the same, will sftfor that purpose on FRIDAY, AUGUST Hth, A. D. 1871. ut 10 o'clock. A. M., In the Iiibrary room of tbe<:k}nrt House, In the city of liaacaster, wbereall persouB Interested In said exceptions and distribution may attend WILLIAM LEAMAN, ADAM J. EBGULY, AMOS MTUN, July ltd S3
Auditors.
SURVEYING AND CONTEVANCINO.
1UIE undersigned begs leave lo make hnowu . to his frieuds und ihe public lu geueial, that be bas located himself at ]..audlsvllle. wbero the business of Surveying aud Convey¬ ancing wiil be promplly attended to in ull Its various brunches, on the m^Hi nioderute terms. M. N. RRUB-aKER,
Landlsville.P. O. taprS 21 3in* . Ijiucaslereo.. Pa.
OU Yes I      OU Yes!      OU YeS!!
DAVID BRKx\NEK
Respectfully Informs the public thathe will atlend to
CRYING SALES df Real nnd Tersoujil properly. In any part of tbe counly. Persous wishing bis services will please call at bis residence on tlie Columbia luruptke road, three miles west of lAiicaster, orulBrenner'sHotel, West King street.
JWLetters addressed to bim at Iiancaster P; O., will be promptly attended lo _8ep7 '70 42t
91. U. KBCID£B,
REAL ESTATE and INSURANCE AGENT
(formerly of Lampeter. Lancaater couuty, Pa.)
1>ERS0NS moving West will find It to tbelr . advantage by giving bim a call, eltber In Sersnu or writing. Office cornerof 3rd aud lulberry streets btterliug, Whiteside conniy. Illinois. riuue:i5*7i)ly
BEZIJA3I1N rilOWE, AUCTIONEER. Respectfully informs the public tbat he will attend to Crying Sales of real estate and per¬ sonal property lu any part of the county.   >
Letters addrassed to bim utSmithville P.O., Lancaster county, will be promptly attended to.
D,
p. BOSENaiI.f.EIt, JR.,
ATTOKNfct AT LAW. No. 18 North Dnlco Street. 411
JF.FBDEArFF, ,                ATIOKNEY-AT-LAW, omce, Columbia, fa. [febll l«y 13
bfbanu esiilpjian, autobneV-at-law,
omcewUh I. E. Ulealer, So. as Noilh Dnke. street, Lanuaater. Pa. [decai ly 7
HVOU K. FCLTOS. ATrOBNEY AT LAW, omoe with Wm. A Bg. Atlee, Em,, No. fS East King at., Lancaater, fa. ucU9 li«mo iS
ALEXAHDEB II. HOOD, ATTORNEY AT LAW, ulUce, Ko. 9 Coart Avenue, Weat side of Court House.  Jun 25 t'f 32
pw   W.PATTEKSOir.
U. ATrOBNKT AT LAW,
UaaTemoTed hla offlce to Mo.68 Easl Klng-SU