Lancaster Examiner and Herald

              VOL. XXXVII.
LANCISTER, PA.| WEDNESDAY, D?QpMR,3, 1862.
W;%
J. A. HI^TAND, J. F. HUBJER, F, HBCKKRT, ir5im TSB nui ov
HIESTAin), HXraEB & HECEEBT,
onrai ut VOKTH QimH mur.
THE EXAMINER & HERALP
Is I>«K<rt«I Wtdtt, ot Tuo DoOart o rear. ADTEETISBUENTB will be Insertea at the «U or $1 00 par aciuAre, of iaA Uqm, for three losv- Uoui 01 Ieaa; and SS ceuta per aqoarofor eaoh additional laaertlon.
XdnrtlaemuU exeaodisf 10 Unea will b. oltarged 6 rauU perila. for tha latlutartlou, aud seanUperllne or aach anhaaqueitt Inaertlon.
Boalaeaa AdTartlsamenta laaerted by the quarter half yaar or year. wlU be eharg^l aa followa:
snioRlAa. SmonfAa. ISmontAa
Oae Square MOO       *t OO       f S 00
Two    "        6 00 8 00 UOO
VcDluna 10 00       18 00 15 00
ii    '         18 00        95 00 45 00
1      "         SOOO        55 00 80 00
BUSIHKSS HOTICES iuaerted before UarrlaKea aad Deatba, douhla the regular ratea.
E^All adTertlaiaf aeconata are conaldered colleeta- ble at tbe expiratioa of half the period contracted for. Traaaleat adTertliemeatii, oasH
THE BATTLE OF  AJIIIEIAM.
Forward, march, t'ae brave captain said. Then througb tho storm of lire aad lead, Where the warm rain was falling red,
The bloody fight began. Through the green valley, through the glem Through swamp, and oreek, and reedy len, Marched the bronzed troopa of gallant men,
Whero lhe stained brooltlela ran.
Jove ; how the crimson currents swell, The sity seems nn exploded shell, Aud rings lilie a IMutonian bell.
That shakes the earth und sea. On neighing charges stroug and fleet. Through thc gray smoko ftnd stifling beat; Like angry waves tho armies meet —
l^oedom and slavery ?
When the dun smoke had rolled away ; When from the sky came dowu Ihe day. Thousands who fell in the bloody fray
Were sweltering in the sun. Brave hearts ih:it ne'er can beat agaiu, Were pulseless upon hill and plaiu ; Anil upturncil faces bore thc stain
Orballlea lost ?.-ni won.
There hero, hoisc, nnd broken gun- There red sod tmoking in the sun— Showed where thc work of death wa^ done
In the rcu-handed fight. When rolls are called there's no reply From those on furlough in the sky ; Hut the brave souls can never die
Who strike for God and right.
TWENTY   MINUTES   TOO   IATE.
AX    EXOI.lSll    LAWYER'S    SfORY.
I am aa oltl man now, and have retired from the profession ; but at the time -when tho incitU'iit T am ahout to relate occurr¬ ed, had just entered it, aud was going on oircuit^for tlie second time.  Through the kindness of a well-known member of the cirouit, who had conceiTed  a  liking  for me, I   was entrusted with two or  three briefs on my first journey'; and in one of these T became known to an old gentle¬ man named Dowdiug, livingin Gloucester. The case in which I was concerned for him was a suit to recover a debt contraet¬ ed by his son, who was then under age; and though the amount sought to be re¬ covered was not large, if hehad been con¬ demned to pay it, it would have beeu the prosecution of similar claims hy tradesmen, ¦which would have ruined him.    Thongh there is always a natural tendency on the part of a jury of tradesmen, to  give ef¬ fect to tho claim of a brother tradesman, I was fortunate  enough to  get a verdict in favor ofmy client.    A case of this kind is not to be remembered  long, even by a newly-fledged barrister, though accompa¬ nied as it was  by the   kindly congratula¬ tions of some of the members of the cir¬ cuit ou my speeeh ; aud until I returned to Gloucester, I had forgotten  all  about Mr. Dowding.   ILiving a relative at Long- hope I went there tlie day before the as¬ sizes began, and did not reach Gloucester till late; aud being tired I went straight to the lodgings  I had engaged  with the intention  of goiug  to  hed  carly.    My lodgings were the same I had occupied at the preceding assizes; and when I reach¬ ed them I fonnd a white-haired old man waiting for me there, whom I had  some diiEculty in recognizing as my old client, Mr. Dowding.    The poor  old gentleman began to cry as roon as  he saw me; and this, -with his evident feebleness—for he faltered in the several  attempts he nmde to rise from his ch.iir to meet  me—exci¬ ted  my sympathy  for   his   distress  so strongly that uiy fatigue  was  forgotten, and I felt eager to hear what had caused it.    AYishing to come to the point as soon possible, I said : " I'm afraid your son is in some way thc oause of your distress." " Yes, my de.ir young frieud, he is; but my poor boy is iunoceut of the crime they charge  him with, I am  sure he is ; I trust iu God he ti."
"You scorn to have a doubt yourself ou tbat point. What is the charge. Is lie in prison '! and do you want me tn defend him?"
" That is what I have come here to ask you to do."
"Very well. AVhat is he charged with'/" "A most dreadful crime ; for which, if he is convicted, he will be certainly exe¬ cuted."
Hero ho hroke down again, and hurst into a terrible fit of crying and sobbing, during which I could understand little of what he tried to say beyond the words, mother, sisters, broken-hearted, shame, disgrace, aiid so on. Seeing that he held in his hand a roll of paper, I thought it probable that it would give me fhe infor¬ mation I wanted ; I therefore took it from hiiu and opened it.
"Yes," said he, "you will find it all there, 1 made him write it, and give it to uie, that it miglit be ready for you when you arrived. Here is also an order which will admit you to his cell as early as you like in tho morning."
"Thauk you. How do you propose to get home ';*"
"J shall walk. I have seen you.'
I went with him to the street door, shook hands, and then went back to my room to read his son's statement. Thus it ran:
"On the evening of the 21st, I met Esther Loversedge at the eorner of Cop¬ ley's lano, and wc walked down by the farm and across the fields to her house. I had often met her before, but had never gone home with her on account of her father, who had a bad name in the neigh¬ borhood, owing to his idleness and savage disposition. Till this evening, I had re¬ solutely refnsed her invitations to set foot in her liouae, but when we reaohed it, she assured me so positivtly that her father i_ was out, and would not return till late, tl)at I let myself be persuaded to go. in
tered, I fully. intendeiTio stay only a-few minutes; but the" time flew so rapidly that it was betweeu teu and eleven o'clock when I got up to go. I was saying good bye to Esther, when we heard the garden wicket fall to, and she directly sud it was her father. She was as fearful of the consequences if he saw me there as I was or at least seemed to be. There was no way of leaving the house without meetiug him, and if I had had time to think, I should have letl by this way, and met him in the open air; but hefore I could think for myself, Esther had opened the back door, and pushed me into tbe wood- house, telling me that her father wos sure to go to bed directly, and then she would let me out.
As soon as I was left alone, I felt angry and vexed that I had sufi'ered myself to be shut in; but being there, I thought it would only be staying a few minutes, and then I could get away without exposing her to her father's anger. There was a heap of fagots iu the shed, and I got on top of these to be more out of the way, in case he should come there for anything. A minute or two afterwards he came in with a light, pulled a tub from one corner, aud then took a pail and went outside, and brought it. back full ofwater. He had a smock-frock on, very white and clean which he stripped ofij and laid on the wood, and underneath this he wore a dark fustian eoat. He first poured the water iuto the tub arid then drew out of his pocket a hammer, the barrel of a gun and then the stock. The gun and stoek he laid on one side, the hammer he threw into the tub, and then took off his coat, aud put that into the water too, aud began washing it. From where I was crouching, I could dis¬ tinctly see that the water hecame red us he washed; aud the stains ou his hands, which I thought was dirt, changed to a bright red before being washed ofif alto¬ gether. Terrified by what I saw, and knowing that I had no right to be where I was, I tried to draw back further into the darkness, and in doing this I made a slight noise, which caused him to look up. He saw me directly, and the surprise seamed to deprive him of his faoulties for an instant; hut this was only moment¬ ary, he caught np a hatchet used in chop¬ ping wood, and began climbing toward me with such a savage expression in his faee that I knew he meant to murder me.
I shouted for Esther, knowing that I eould expect help i'roiu no other person, there being no cottage near, and she rush¬ ed in and eaught her father by tbo arm. He tried all he could to shake her off by means of blows and force, but she held so tightly, that, if she had caught his right arm instead of his left, I should have had timtrto eome to her assistance; as it was I eould not approach him with¬ out the certainty of being cut down. I thonght her prayers had some effect up¬ on him, and I tried to increase this hy promising not to say a word of what I had soen. He considered for a minute, and then threw tho hatchet into a corner, and told me to come down. I did as he bade me, supposing he meant to let me go; hut the mument I put my foot on the ground, he struok me several blows- on the faco, and then dragged me into his daughter's bed-room, and locked me in, and left me there about half an hour.— When he eame to hring me out, he had his hat on and his white smock-frock.— He told me to come with him. My face was all bloody, and being in the dark all the time, it had ruu down on the front of my olothes without my knowing it.— I thought he was going to fako me to my fither; and heing afraid of frightening my mother and sisters, I begged him  to
I feel better, now that
let me at least wash my face and hands, which he refused with many oaths; and taking hold of me by the arm; he made me go with him aoross thc fields to the London road. After walkiug along this road in the direction of Gloucester for four or five hundred yards, we came to a part of it which had on one side a nar¬ row strip of land, on which a few trees grew and a little underwood. Loversedge walked in here still holding me by the arm, and searched about for a few min¬ utes ; I was horrified to find what ho was looking for was a dead body. The dress showed that it was the body of a laboring man, apparently a wagoner, for there was a long whip lying near him such as they use. I could see the white face and half closed eyes which reflected the moon light but I could not recognize it, though I felt sure I had seeu it before. Leaving thc body where it lay, Levcrsodge went on with me in the direction of Glouces¬ ter, and I now began lo form an idea of what he intended to do with me. Just after we got into the eity, we came up with a carrier's wagon. The horses were stauding still, and a crowd had collected around it, and I heard the people won¬ dering what had beeome of the driver.— Levcrsedge pushed me into the uiidst of them, and said:
" Y'ou will never see the  driver  any more hut hero is his murderer."
" The people shrank away from us, but I was recognized directly. I protested as earnestly as I eould that I was inno¬ cent, and charged my accuser with hav¬ ing committed the murder himself, but he in a jeering way, ealled the attention of these present to the appearance of my clothes, and contrasted them with his own, so that no one seemed to believe what I said and one of them fetched the constable, who locked me up. I was taken before the justices, and they com¬ mitted me to prison to tnke my trial at the assizes for the murder of the wa¬ goner."
Before going to see the prisoner in the morning, I called on his father, and was surprised to fiud that he had refused the services of any local attorney to pre¬ pare the evidence for the defence, think ing it would only be necessary t» give me his son's statement to enable me to plead his cause successfully. I next vis¬ ited the prison to hear what the son had to say.
He was a quiet, good-looking fellow, with an appearance calculated to make a favorable impressionon a jury. J He per¬ sisted in asserting that every wprd he had written 1^ true, and, as,he hwl. nothing to add, I lostTery-little time in oonTersing with hiin.. On readingA,the .'Sqpomtipns,' Ifound that; omitting: nmrnportant^ de¬ tuls, lie'jerscdgejs ^vjdence/ampuj(t^|- tj>; tbis;: i3iat/]iiBiJu^i'£e«B''d]^uiuiig^^
lord till about half-past ten o'oiook, when his friend wished him good night, and went away, leaving him talking with the landlord at the door; that he himselfleft a few minntes .afterwards, and had got within a qnarter of a mile of the turnpike gate, through which he had to pass to get to his oottage, when he heard a ery for help. There was a road-wagon at some diatance before him, and he thought some accident had happened to the driver, aud ran along the road till he overtook it, when he found there was no driver with the wagon. He had seen nothing in the road, but he directly turned round, and went back to look more carefully, first stopping the horses. On reaching a place bythe roadside, ealled Turnpike Folly, ho saw a man ruu out of the Folly, and among the trees he saw the dead body of the driver of the road-wagon; he ran af¬ ter the man, and caught him, and this mnn was Henry Dowding.
Such was tho substance of his deposi¬ tion which was supported by the evidenee of the landlord of the pubiie house, and men who had been drinking with them, AYithout this confirmatory testimony the bad charaeter of Leverseuge would have prevented his statement from heing ac¬ cepted with oonfidenoe bythe jury; but when to this was added the evidenee of the witnesses who spoke to the state of their elothes at the time when hehronght Dowding into Gloucester, it became pret¬ ty cortain that there could be only one termiuation to the trial, and thatDowding, whether guilty or iunocent would be con¬ denmed.
I was myself disposed to accept the prisoner's statement, in spite of its improb¬ abilities, but it was clear that the only ehancj of getting a jury to do so, was hy producing Esther Loversedge in court, and her giving evidence in support of it. I turned over the depositions again and again, but could not find hers amoug them. On enquiring about the omission, I learn¬ ed that her attendance at the examination before the justices had notbeen enforced, and, consequently, she had not given evi¬ dence at all.
I sent for the constable into whose cus¬ tody Dowding had bean given, and, ao¬ eording to him, nobody who had seen the two men on the night of the murder, had any donbt about the prisoner's guilt. He owed money to nearly every tradesman in the town, and knew as well as everybody else, that the carrier was in the habit of bringing money from London to.the peo¬ ple in Gloucester; it was therefore natu¬ ral that he shonid try to get ithy rohbery and violence. 1 direeted this offioial to provide for thc attendance of Esther Lev¬ crsedge, at the trial, promising him a rea¬ sonable remuneration for his trouble aud expenses. The trial was not likely to come on hefore the afternoon of the suc¬ ceeding day; hut the duration of a trial ean never be reckoned upon with any de¬ gree of certainty, and it so happened that Dowding's case was called on three or four hours sooner than was expeoted. I had heard nothing of Bsther Loversedge, and I was about to make an application for the postponement of the trial until the next assizes, on account of the ab¬ sence of the only person who could give evidence in favor of the prisoner, when I caught sight of the constable I had sent in search of her. He nodded in reply to my look, and at the same moment a slip of paper was placed in my hand, on whieh was written, "I havo got her." The trial went on, and, as it proceeded, it was not difiicuit to see that the evidenco for the prosecution was telling fearfully agaiust the prisoner, in the opinion of the jury¬ men. I cross-examined Leverscdge.with sueh severity that even the judge seemed to think I was abusing thc privilege of counsel, but the fellow had had too long a time to think over his tale to he shaken in it now. 'The case for the prosecution was soon closed, and that for the defense occupied but a little while. All that I had to urge was the statement made by the prisoner previous fo his committal, the notoriously bad charaoter of the priu¬ oipal witness, and the greater probability that a man of his strength and ferocity was the murderer, than that the crime should have been committed by a compar¬ atively weak 3*outh like the prisoner at tho bar, without accomplices, and without so far as had been ascert.ained, eveu a weapon.
There was the u.sual.stirand excitement in court when an  interesting  witness  is called,as Esther Levcrsedge took her place in the witness box.    I think I was never more surprised at the personal appearance of any hody.    She was a hold coarse look¬ ing woman, considorablj' older than  tho prisoner, who, as I have  said, was of a very prepossessing appearance, and  with that degree of refinement in fhe  expres¬ sion of his countenance which indicates a man of some  education.    When called upon to give  her evidence, she  declared she had none to give.    I questioned  hor on the prisoner's statement, but she ut¬ terly denied she had met him on the night in question, or, in short, that there  was one word of truth in what he had said res¬ pecting her.    I was completely astounded at finding that I had only ealled a witness to strengthen the ease against my client, and I looked at him annoyed and angry tliat he should  have deceived  me  with sueh falsehoods; but thero was an expres¬ sion of sueh intense astoni.shmant  in his face, that I wanted no further evidence to prove to me that his talc was  true.    By gesture I called the attention of the jury to this, and after asking the witness a few more questions, with the view of eliciting from her whether she made these  denials out of regard for or  through fear of her father, and failing to get satisfactory an¬ swers I dismissed her.
I need not desoribe the remainder of what took place. The summing up of the judge showed tbat he was not entirely without doubfa as to the prisoner's guilt; but when the jury had given a verdiet of Guilty, he told them, previous to passing condemnation, that he concurred in their verdict, and ordered the accused for exe¬ cution with the usual formalities.
The grief of poor old Mr. Dowding was the most pidful thing I ever saw. I tried to comfort him by assuring him that Lbelieved his.son was innocent, and ad¬ vised him to draw up''a petition to the Ung, that-he would eierciie'hja.prerogSj tire in.liis.fever. , .1 solioited the, infln-
assurance that I had no donbt of the pri¬ soner's innooenoe. Altogether I felt tol¬ erably sure that a reprieve would arrive before the day fixed for the execution.— Day after day.passed on until .th.at fixed for thc execution had arrived; bnt still no reprieve and no refusal to grant one had been received. I endeavored in every possible way to delay the execution to a later hour, and succeeded to a certain ex¬ tent. The formalities immediately pre¬ ceding it were performed as slowly as possible; the prisoner waa allowed to spend au unnsnally long period in prayer, and eveu when on the scaffold he might have prolonged his life for some minutes by addressing the speotators; but he was wom out hy the excitement he had un¬ dergone, and was incapable of speaking.
When the last act had been accomplish¬ ed, I went with the sheriff nnd chaplain to drink a glass of wine, being greatly depressed by what had taken place. There were several olBcials, and a few principal persons belonging to the couuty in the room, who were discussing the arguments for and against my client's guilt. I was leaving with the sheriff when the gover¬ nor came to him with a letter addressed to the sheriff of the county of Gloucester. The mauner in which it was addressed, and its appearance showed that it was an official letter. I looked over him as he oponed it with an anxiety which cannot be conceived—it was a reprieve for Hen¬ ry Dowding. I looked at my watoh; he had been hanging twenty minutes.
It turned out that the reprieve had been addressed to the sheriff of the Her- fordshire instead of Gloucestershire, and was not recieved by him for some hours later than ho might have received it in conset(uence of its having been dropped into the post-office letter-box after the let^ ters for that night had been removed. As soon as he had read it, he seut it by a messenger, who had traveled os fast as horse could go, hut failed to reach Glou¬ cester with it till it was twenty miuutes too late. There is doubt in my mind but that Henry Dowding was an innocent man.
OUE GUABDIAH   SPIEITB.
T. linger, genlle nngel spirit;
Stay and fold thy ohorub wings ; To the world thou didst inherit,
What sweet message dost thou bring ? Erst of balm for her who bore thee.
Wept thy eai;Iy fiight io heaven ; S.aw thc cold clods levelled o'er thee,
Canst beslow the healing leaven ¦; II. As we t.arry near the greensward.
Covering to thy mortal bed: And gaze down upon the roses,
All in bloom above tby head ; Sadly, mildly, raem'ry whispers.
Of a bud thnt never bloomed : Theu wc feel a presence nenr us,
Pointing to our rose bud's tomb. III. Guardian spirit, hovering o'er us,
Oft thy presence scemeth near; And whea sorrows's fount o'erfloweth,
Unseen pinions dry each tear. When tho silent twilight bringeth
Bitter memories to the heart, Back to earth our ohorub wingeth,
Whispers peace, and steals the dart!
ELSIE FOED'S THREE CHEISTMAS EVES.
Chuisijias E'S'F. !   'The soft snow was falling   lightly   round   the house;   the ehurch bells, their charp clang mellowed and softened   by distance, were  ringing forth the Christmas chimes ; the curtains were drawn in closely,  and  Elsie   Ford sat by   the fire, dreaming.    The  open grate, filled with ruddy coals, cast a bright yet pleasant light over   the large  parlor, deepening the shadows in the far-off cor¬ ners, yet bringing into full relief the lit¬ tle figure nestling down in the deep chair, musing happily on her own new joy. She looked very fair,  fragile,  and   childlike, for eighteen years had  passed over  her petted life with   light  fingers, bringing out new beauties, yet sparing her all care, all sorrow.    Tho fair opeu brow, shaded by short brown ringlets, was smooth  and white   as   polished   ivory,  and the soft brown eyes, looking so  earnestly forward in musing, were  frank, well opened, and trusting as a  child's.    The petite figure in ifs crimson dress, the Uttle  white, soft hand, the regular  features, and smiling, rose-bud inouth, had each aud all   their peculiar winsome grace. She seemed born for petting, to be encircled ever by loving hearts fhat could stand betweeu her  and evory rude shock, as she lay  thinking of the morrow, of its coming happiness, and then suffering her thoughts to roam back over the pnst annual festivals.    She cele¬ brated two epochs in  her  Chrisfmas re¬ joicing, for  eighteen years ago that very night she had first opened her big hrown eyes on fhis world, first mingled her wail¬ ing cry with her mother's last sigh.    The love she had never known she never miss¬ ed, for hor father's jealous love  watched every attendant of her childish days, eve¬ ry instructor of her later years, and, shel¬ tered hy that love, she had grown up con¬ centrating all her fiUal affection upon the only parent she had ever known.    Every luxury,   cvery   refinement   that  wealth could command had been hers   from  in¬ fancy, and she looked, as she was, the pe¬ tite child of fortune.   And this night an¬ other deeper happiness  brightened her eyea and gave the sweet, earnest smile to her lip.    She loved, and she was assured that her love was  returned with a fervor and truth equal to that given by her own pure heart.
Alfred Conway, thc mau who sought tbis sunbeam to brighten his own home, was a clerk in Mr. Ford's counting-house, and one whose fair, open integrity, strong intelleet, and bright, genial powers of fas¬ cination, had long ago won the love and respect of his employer. Hiram Ford had been poor himself, before the freak of an eccentric distant relative had willed to him his present wealth, and he was himself too generous, too large hearted to let his young friend's worldly disadvant¬ ages make any barrier in his reception at the hospitable house- of his employer. It was not difiicuit to guess where Elsie got her merry, rippling laugh, her dancing eycsj and smiling lips, when one looked into her father's face. He was a tall man' ¦with every limb moulded on a large scale, yet giving an impression of activity as well as strength., 'lln-the curling brown hiir'theiie are heavy flakes of silver, buf
frank eyes show' no signs of age. Thb' crowning attraction is the mouth, ever varying with change of emoti^, flexible, expressive, and beautiful, ffiose full, red lips oonvey every changft 'Dft"fljeling be¬ fore they utter one sound. Upon ooming into his inheritance he had enlarged his business, and taken for a confidential olerk the father of Alfred Conway, who, dying, left his widow, son, and daughter utterly destitute. With his warm, im¬ pulsive generosity, Hiram Ford paid for the education of the orphans, and obtain¬ ed for tho widow employment iu sewing at good priees. As soon as Alfred was old enough he took him into his counting house, at a salary sufficient to enable his mother and sister to live without work. This man, then, with his large heart, his deep, fatherly love, and warm impulses, was not one to listen coldly to a love tale poured forth with all the fresh enthusi¬ asm of youth; and while Elsie sat dream¬ ing by the firelight, secure of the affec¬ tion that had made her whole life joyous, her father listened in his library to the boy he had loved so long, as he told his story aud asked him to give the life 6^] his only child to another's keeping. They¬ were a fine coutrast, as they sat earnestly conversing, these two noble men, the oue so strong and genial in his mellow mid¬ dle age, the other buoyant and joyous in his first fresh youth. The large yet well moulded features, tall, erect figure, and keen black eyo of the younger mau bore the aame impress of a life of love of all men fhat so eminently characterized the face of tho older one. 'Truly Elsie was happy in her protectors. • " You must uot think to take her away, Alfred," said iilr. Ford, as the other ceased speaking. " She is my only one. Nay," he added, kindly, " your face need not cloud so. I do not mean to refnse you the place you plead for. She is yours, with her father's full and free coniient.— Where she has given her love, I will not refuse her hand."
How ean I thank you!" said Alfred, earnestly, his- eyes full of tears.
" By loving and cherishing her, and by granting the only request I shall make —to make your home here. The house is large enough for all, and I cannot part from Elsie."
There was a loug silence ; then, with a low vrfioe and a face that proved the efifcrt the words cost him, Alfred said : " I shall not claim your promise now, for I want your permission to leave the coun¬ ting-house for eighteen month.s, to go to the Cape of Good-Hope",
No words of mine eau picture tbe amazement iri the old gentleman's face.
" Go to the Cape of Good Hope!" he echoe'd.
"But for the hope of your permission I should never have.dared to tell you of" —and his color rdse^" my love for Elsie. Some two months ago, my cousin, who sails a trading vessel, eame homo from a voyage to Africa, and told me of a cargo that, costing.but little ^er?;, ,woujd realize I a sum there that r would .faLse, me ahove want, and make mj mother and sister likewise independent-^ sum that would warrant my asking Elsie's hand, secure ofher still having ahome not; top much at variance with the-one'-'she leaves. I meant to leave my ;hope of her love a thing of doubt till I returned, but I eould not. I shrunk from the thought of leav¬ ing her for so long  d., time -without  one
assurance of the sweet truth I learned to¬ day."   .
"But, Alfred, this is a Quixotic scheme. Besides, you .will li-ve here.' I will raise your salary. • Anything 'iai having you leave us." T
",I know, I foel all your kindness," said the young man, deeply touched; " but I cannot hear your generous proposal. I feel deeply all the debt of gratitnde I al¬ ready owe you, but I uiust still plead for the right to feel that I oau claim Elsie, not as a poor man, but with.the^ indepen¬ dence I can earn in this venture. If I fail, I shall start anew, sure"—and' his suiilc was ' raldiant ¦ in confidence-—" that she will be constahf."
" But, Alfred, ivhat is this scheme, and how will you meet the first expenses ?"
" Your owu liberality has placed my salary far above the wants of our little, household, and I have saved a sum sufiii- cient for all the nccess.ary outlay. For the scheme, let mo explain it."
Listening with the earnest attention of oue deeply interested, the man of busi¬ ness saw at once the feasibility of the plan and the fair opening it offered to his yonng friend. It was an opportunity but seldom offered to a speculator, tind had the doublo advantage of presenting to the buyers across tho ocean a fair opening for their energy and enterprise. Altogether tho philanthropic and mercantile spirit was fully roused.
"It were a thousand pities to lose sueh a chanee," he said, enthusiastically. "Go, Alfred, and I will keep Elsie for yon till you return. Don't tell her now. To¬ morrow is Christmas, and her birthday, and your mother and sister must dine with us. It will ho some weeks before you can sail, so let to-morrow be a day of pleasure to her unalloyed by the prospect of a long separation. Y'lou"—aud he looked  up wistfully—" think you must
gor
Kis'highwhiWfore.head isunsearred by enca of ¦membera' of the'-'bar,"whd'were'ri5nie'B iiintles, ¦aiiij the, well-ont fea-
«It is best," said Alfred, gently.
"Yes," sighed he; "but I don't like partings. There, go find your lady-bird and let me think."
The yonng man came from his seat and took the hand that had so long fostered him, in both his own. For a moment a sadness that in after years seemed to him almost prophetic, crept into his heart, and ho stood silent, looking into the kind face raised to meet his gaze. Then softly, subdued by some feeling unexplained, he bent down on one knee beside the chair, and bowed his head over the strong hand he grasped. With a touch, light as a woman's, the other hand fell upou his thick clustering curls, and the cheerful hearty voice of his benefactor was huaky, as he said—
" God bless you, Alfred, my son !"
And Elsie, meantime, drcanjed away the fleeting moments by the fireside.— She knew well the love her father bore towards Alfred, and with the fond affec¬ tion of a woman she felt that the plead, ing of her lover would be resistless. Did not she feel hqw vain it was • to think of loving any-other, and where she loved,
would be roused. Her loving, gentle fa¬ ther I Over the whole retrospect of her life, she could recall no harsh word, no ungentle act; he had stood iu the place of both pareuts, and no-moiher oonld elaim a more perfeet oonfidence, a strong¬ er, truer affeotion than Elsie gave her father. "Asleep ?"
The question, in tha cheerful voice she .| loved so well, roused her from her reverie. She looked up to see the tall figure of Al¬ fred Conway towering above the back of her ohair, the large eyes looking down upon her nestling figure.
"Asleep ? . No! Shall we have the gas lit, or sit here hy the firelight ?"
"Sit here, by all means," and her lover drew up a footstool and established him¬ self in the orthodox position at the feet of his mistress. "Gas light was never meant for wooing, Elsie."
The firelight played theu on a group that could have the brightest gas jet, so full of grace and poetry was the posture. Alfred had thrown himself carelessly down, his hirge, yet graceful form resting partly on the large rug, partly on the footstool, while his head and shoulders were lean¬ ing on the arm of I'ilsie's ehair. Ilia thick chestnut curls were thrown back from the broad forehead, and his face, radiant with his new happines.?, was raised smiling and happy to meet her look, while she, just bending forward, rested her clasped hands ou his shoulder, and let her bright curls brush his, as she lay her cheek down on the arm of the large ehair. The low mel¬ ody of his voiee, as he told her ofher fa¬ ther's kindness, waa in keeping with the pretty picture, and as his arm stole round her little figure to emphasize the vow he whispered, to cherish, love, and protect her his life long, she let him fold her in his clasp, suro that her resting-place was there in all joy or sorrow. Standing, an hour later, with clasped hands, fhe two bent before the kind father, who eame to rouse them from their loving converse only to sanction and bless it. So, with every want ofher heart filled to overflow¬ ing, happy in home, father, and lover, wrapped iu a blissful dream, passed the first of the three eras that Elsie called her Christmas Eves.
One year later, and again the firelight plays  upon  the parlor where Elsie had promised her love and won her father's blessing; but the large chair stands empty by the wall, the room holds no life,  only tho atill furniture that seems fo mock the glowing, ruddy flame by its mute formal¬ ity.     To find  Elsie you mnst mount a story highor, to a large bedroom, whose white draperies chill you, even beforo you cuter.     'The  bed  lies  vacant,  and  tho chairs are ranged round the walls with an inhospitable stiffness.    The toilet table is draped with a whife eloth,  and thc long, snowy curtains flutter in  fhe piercing wind that enters the open window.  Close beside that window,  in the lon^, narrow casket that is man's last earthly tenement, lies the master of the house, with folded hands resting over the stilled heart that beat warmly  to every generous emotion. The noble features look as if carved from marble, in their pure white outline,  and the calm smile tells truly of a peaceful ending to a woll-apent life.    Kind watch¬ ers have been with the orphan;  but as the weary hours of the night moved ou, they slept, aud she alone of all the house walked  aud  watched.    Clearly and dis¬ tinctly the midnight hours pealed from the clock on tho chamber mantel, and as the last stroke echoed throngh the awful still¬ ness,  a little white-robed figure  glided softly in.    In thc softened, subdued light; she looked like some unearthly visitant; her white night-dress fell in long folds to her little bare feet, and the hair brushed carelessly from her face, floated in un¬ curled uia.5scs down over her shoulders. With a step that fell without a sound on the thick, soft carpet, she crossed the room till she stood behiud the coffin. 'The uioon striking through a crevice of tho closed shutters, threw a ray of light across her father's faoe, and lit up tho smile till it seemed beaming as of old to greet her coming.     It was too still, too solemu for any violent burst pf grief, and the weary,- aching longing for thc loved face rested as the young girl stood gazing with eager oyes upon it. The eold winter wind swept over her, chilling her to the heart, but she did not; heed it.     'There was an iron at her heart that defied any outward chill. Not till sho pressed her lips to thc cold, oues that for the first time let her kiss pass unrcturned did the wailing cry break from her poor sore heart.    Then low, but' oh, how bitter in ifs intensity!   tho cry poured forth.    "Father! 0 father, .speak to me!" Every fond word of endearment, every caress that she was wont to lavish, sho wasted cn that cold, unansweringfaoc till the tide of feeling broke all barriers, aud her piercing cries brought Sirs. Con¬ way from the next room, to find Elsie rav¬ ing in deUrium.     Long weefcs of illness followed, and when health came slowly baek to the delicate, sorely-tried frame, the love that sorrow had deepened and strengthened for the mother aud sister of her betrothed were Elsie's chief eomfort in her bereavement.
Kuowing how lonely the orphan would be if sho refused, Mrs. Conway accepted Elsie's proposal to mako hor house the homo of herself and daughter until Al¬ fred's return. 'This was thc one hope that kept the orphan from utter despair. She had turned for comfort fo tho Source from which her father had drawn motives for every act of his-life; but while she bowed in humble resignation to thc Power that had claimed her father's life, she could not keep away the actual daily void his absence raade. No room but his place seemed- waiting for him; uo hour when his voice, his counsel was not missed'; no day when the first thought of her bursting heart was other than, "He is not hore!"
Spring opened, and the sad, pale face grew brighter as the days drew the time of Alfred's return nearer. At last the vessel was reported, and /lie might be hourly expeoted. It was early in July, and Mrs. Conway was in the parlor, put¬ ting those finishing touches agood house¬ wife loves to add to a servant's arranging, when her nephew, the captain of the ves¬ sel in whioh Alfred had aailed, waa an¬ nouneed. Trembling with a dreadfnl terror, she went to meet him. His sad face and slow advance confirmed her worat fears.
^ ;.,«AJ&e.d, nst«>Pi;Mlt-4«4?"
"I—-I fear so," was the mournful an¬ swer.   "He was taken very ill with ship-
fever, and hy the surgeon's advice we left him at Port Klizabeth. He aaid the only ohanee for his recovery was to be put ashore, bnt I fear he was orily left to die. I have never seen a worse case."
•'And you left him V
"1 was forced to do so, but he was iu kind hands. An American family resi¬ ding at Port Elizabeth took him to their own home, and every means vrill be used for his recovery."
"My son! my son!" the agonizing cry reached Elsie in her own room, and she flew down stairs. Far differently the news affected her.
"He is not dead! He will return I know, I feel he will, dear mother," and her sweet face glowed with fervor of her hope as she spoke. The faith was con¬ tagious, and the anxious watching for nows became painful only as it failed them. No word, no tidings reached them, and the weary months sped past iu pain¬ ful monotony. Still the hope, the trust never left Elsie. Soniething in her faith¬ ful heart whispered courage and hope, and she drew the messenger closely to hor, and believed that her lover was alive and hastening to her.
As the vessel which bore him, still in feeble but gaining health, to England— sped over the seas, for his impatieuce could not wait for another American vessel, she seemed fo feel his spirit approaching hers, so strong grew thc certainty that he was to return.
A third time in onr story Christmas eve drew its twilight shadows round thc parlor, an'd the ruddy glow from the grate played over the room. Jlrs. Conway and her daughter were in their own room, but a restless little figure, in a deep mourning dress paced up aud down the long parlors. Pale and shadowy the face, fhat had been so bright two years before, looked now in the corners, till passing before the grate, tho ruddy light threw a false glow over its outlines. The little white hands clasp¬ ed tightly together work with emotion, as the poor child looks back on the last year, the sad epoch that marked a day before all rejoicing. No tears were on her cheek; but the white lips, the mourn ful eye. and working fingers. speak the deep emotion, whilo up aud down tho quick feet bear hor, till from weariness they grow heavy and she trails them slowly over the monotonous walk. Then, as the evening wears on..she sinks- info the largo chair to rest her head down and thinkj think till the brain seems reeling with,'its painful memories, and doubts, and so she fell asleep. Dreaming she went baok to two years before when tho lost loved voice bade her still love, still hope for happiness, and again she seemed to hear and see tho accents that had always cheered her, the smile that had been brightest for her alone. And the dream brought baek another face, another voice, whispering, as of old, her name with every tono of tenderness, till she heard: as if from afar, the motlmr's voice :— |        '
"Softly,! Alfred, do not rouse her sud¬ denly,'' and she opened her eyes to moet a flood of light, to find her head pillowed on her lover's shoulder, his face bending over her.s, his warm, loving kisses pressing her lips.—-[Godei/'s Ladi/'s Bool;.
GOD B1E3S   THE LUTtE CHItDBEH.
¦ j.--     . - ___    ¦-
God bless the litlle children, We ineet them everywhere; We hear their voices round onr hearth, Their foolsteps on our slair. '' Their'kindly henrts arc swelling o'er Withimirthfullness and glee; God bless the little children ;       ' Wherever they may be.
We meet lhem 'neath thc gipsy tent,
Wilh'ivisagc swart aud dun, And eyes that sparkle as they glance ; Withirogucryand fun;
We find them fishing in the brook
Ir'or minnows with a pin. Or creeping througU the hazel bush
The linnet's nest lo win.
We meet them in the lordly hnll, Their stalely father's pride,
We meet tbem in the poor man's cot— !        He hath no wealth beside.
Along the city's crowded street !        They :hurl the hoop or ball; \ ; We fintl- them 'neath the pauper's roof— I-  . ^ The saddest sight of all; r-' \\
V    For. there tbey win uo father's love,
[ . No .mother's tender care ;
f. Their only friend the God above
.; WTio hears thc orphan's prayer.
' But dressed in silk or draped in rags,
; In cbildish grief or glee,
';¦ God bless Ihe little children
I Wherever Ihey moy be.
FOR   THE  LITTLE   FOLKS. The Bold Soldier.
There were once twenty-five little pew¬ ter soldiers—all brothers. They had all been melted out of an old pewter spoon. 'Xhey stood straight up, had their eyes looking straight before them, and held their gunsin their hinds all ready to make an attack on the enemy. Their uniform was beautiful, of yellow, red, blue, and green.
The first word they ever heard in their lives, wheu a little boy lifted up tho lid of the box in which they had heen sold and were now lying, was "Soldiers I" He took them all out carefully and stood them up on the table. Every oue looked like all the rest. But I am too fast, for there was ono exception. He had but one leg, and looked as if he had lost one ofhis legs in battle. But this was not thc way he eame without it. He was the last soldier made, and there was not enough pewter in the old spoon to finish him. If the spoon had been a little larger he would have had two, like his tweuty-four breth¬ ren. But his one foot was big enough for two, so that he could stand up as well as anybody else.
On the same table where they were standing thore were many other things whieh children love to jjay with. One whieh struck my attention very much was a little paper castle. One could look thro' its windows into the little rooms. Before the castle was laid a pieceof looking glass to represent a beautiful fish pond, and around it wero little trees that were paint¬ ed green. On the pond, you could see quite a number of white swans; they were made of wax.
All this was very pretty to look upon; 'bub the prettiest of all was a little girl that stood in the castle door. She was cut out of kpiecsvitC p^«r.^ Sha.iii»» »
dress, aud wore a very nice ribbon over her shoulder, that came down and doubled around her waist. Her dress came very low dowu to her feet, and the little lame soldier hinted to his comrades that as he could only see oneof her feet, he did not believe she had more than one leg like himself
" She would be a good wife for me," he said to himself- " But she is a little aristocrat, perhaps. She lives in a castle, and the only house I have in this big world is this box, whieh, in tmth, belongs to my twenty-four brothers as much as it does to me. It would not be a home to suit her, I know. Still, I will endeavor to make her acquaintance." Then he fell over, and crept behind a snuff-box that lay on the table. This was a good posi¬ tion for him to take a fine view of the young lady in the castle door.
When the evening came on, all the oth¬ er Boldiers returned to their box to go to bed, and all tho people in the eity put out their lights and went to bed. Now the playthings commenced to play. They played hide and seek, and ball, and fox and geese, and many other sneh games as all young people love. The soldiers marched about in their box and tried to get out, hut they could not push the top off. Thc nut-cracker struck a glass, and tho top jumped down on tho box where the pewter soldiers were. So much noise was there, that the canary-bird could not sleep, and so he woke up. He began to sing, to drown the noise around him.
The only two things that did uot make a great noise were the little lame soldier and the little girl in the castle- door.
The elock struck twelve. Suddeuly a shnrp rap was heard on the top of the snuff-box. It flew opeu, and out jumped a great blaek beetle. Ho walked boldly up to the l.ame soldier and   said :
" I wish you would keep your eyes fo yourself." But the soldier looked as if he did not hear anything, and kept ou gazing at the little girl in the castle-door. Then the beetle said:
" Never mind, wait till to-morrow niorn- ing."
The hectic wanted to impose on the lame soldier because he was lame, so the little warrior said to himself "Ifl am lame, I eau take care of myself I am just as nature made me, and if I am not as hand.sonie as other pcopie, that is no¬ body'a business but my own."
The next morning came. Thc children were all out of hed, and were beginning to think about their games and playthings again. ¦ For some reason or other, the lame soldier was seen standing in the 'window. I suspect that the beetle hiid something to do with getting him there. All at -once the window went up, and the poor soldier fell on his head,down on the hard stone pave ment, three stories below. It was a dread¬ ful journey; andhe found himself standing on his head, with his bayonet sticking in the plaster where two stones were joinod. The servant-girl and a little boy ran down at once to hunt for him. Although they were almost treading on him, fhey could not see him. Had he cried out, "Here I am !" they would have been able to pick bim right up. But he did not find it convenient to speak loud, and so they did not find him.
Now it began to rain. One drop came down quick after another, until the street was almost swimming. When it was over two street-boys eame trudging .along.
" See there !" said one; " a pewter sol¬ dier,-who is going to take a sail, if wceau make him a good boat.'?
And they made a little boat out of a piece of newspaper, and put the poor de¬ formed soldier in it, and then launched tho ship into the gutter. What waves ! What a beavy tide there was ! The boat rose up and went dowu with tho sea.— When the gutter turned, it turned with it. By and by thc sailor grew sea-sick; but yet he persevered, kept his eyes straight before him, and held his musket in his arm. Ho would uot be discouraged. He was treated badly by his euemies, he waa unfortunate in his profession, he was turued loose in only a paper boat in a gut¬ ter, and niight be shipwrecked at auy time. But he -kept up his .spirits and would uot be discouraged.
The gutter grew dark, and went right under one of the streets. " I wonder what is going to become of me now," he said to himself "All this is owing to my enemies. But I am a soldier. I have enlisted for the war, and will notbe dis¬ couraged."
At that momont there came outa great water-rat, that lived in a houso besido the dark gutter.
"Have you a passport':"' ho gruflly asked. " Out with your passport, ori will put you in prison."
But the liime soldier kept quiet, and held his musket in his arm ready for good service. 'The boat shot forwards again, and knocked the rat oft'of his doek into the water.
"Catoh him! catch him! He has not paid toll; he has cheated the government; he has got no passport. Catch him '." So shouted the rat when begot on .his dock agaiu.    But ho was too late.
Thc stream grew more violent all fhe time. Far off ahead thc soldier could see daylight again; He would soon be out in the fresh air once more. But he heard a rustling sound fhat was woll calculated to make thc stoutest heart tremble in fear. He was approaching a waterfall. lie held on fo the hoat as fast as he could ; and down it went—now under the water,then up again, and then grating against thc rough stone shore. But the boat was sinking. The paper was wet ¦ through and throngh, and would have sunk long ago if the two boya had not lined it very well with orange-peel. Just as the boat was going down to bottom, and fho soldior was going down with it, a great fish came along and swallowed him up. Now it was dark enough with him—far worse than it had ever been before. But still he kept bold and earnest, not desponding and giv ing up, as many others would have done under similar circumstanees.
The fish swam hero and there in every direction. Finally, it was still and quiet as a robin's egg in the nest. Little sol dier could ,not telL what would happen next. Suadenly a stream of light eame down upon him. Now he knew every¬ thing that had taken plape. The fish had beaucanghtijWJl.tljfi^cook was dressing
and holding it in her hand, ran with it into the parlor and showed it to the peo¬ ple. A little girl begged it, and affer straightening it out, stood it up on the table. What strange things happen in this world! The little one-legged pewter soldier was standing on the same table that it had stood on when a young soldier just going to the wars ! But it had been bold and stout-hearted ever since.
There was thesamo little girl standing in thc castle-door. The little soldier looked at her, but they said nothing. A little naughty boy took him up, and cast him into the fire. This was the hardest trinl yet. His colors faded away, and his one leg hegan to melt. But he was bold to the last, and he held his mus¬ ket in his hand until his body was melt¬ ed,  too.
A wealthy lady saw it all, how bold he was to the last. So she took tho little piece of shapeless pewter out of the fire and carried it to a jeweller, who was or¬ dered to eover it with gold, and change it into a beautiful breastpin, and set it with diamonds.
And for many, many years the little soldier, beoause he had always been bold was covered with gold and diamonds— the admired ofall eye3.[iV' Y. Metliodist']
EXECUTOR'S NOTICE.
Estate of Bonjamin Hooney, late of the City
of laneaster, formerly of Haaor Twp.,
lancastor county, deceased.
LETTERS testamentary on said estatu having been granted bv lhe Hesleter of slid couoty to tbe anderelffoed, reaidicg In ilanor lotrn- Bhip. He therefore requfifite all poraoos having clalmi. (tr demandij agalaat the eatate of aaid decedeat to aialro known the cbiub to bliu wltbont delay, und thoas knowing tbenihelv.B IndebteJ Ir> eald efitate ta make payment lo him withoot delay, nov 2«-litl JACOB BiUSMAH.'Klecntor.
EXECUTOKS NOTICE.
Estate of John F. Hnber, lato of tho City of
Lancaster, deceased.
LETTERS testamentary on said estate having beea granted to tbe oudorMgaed. ell tier. Bona Indebted therelo are reqoeaied to malte immetllale Gettlement,and thOae having clalraa or demaud. asainel the eame will present them withoot delay for Rettle¬ ment to th« underelgoed. residing In^ Baid city.
ELlZlBBTa nUl!EK.Exer:atrlr, or J. B. LIVIKGSTON, her Atfy. novlo Gt-52
E5CECUT0RS' NOTICE.
Eatate of Mary Fell, lato of Uttlo Britain
township, deceasod.
LE'TTERS Testamentary oa said Ka- lata linvins boon granlet! Ui tho and«ri.!?»ed, all pBraoaa ladabted tliereto aro rcftcetttji \t mika lmm«>- dlate settlemect, snd thoao haTing clalniH or d«mccdi4 -agala&t tbe aame will praeeot thssi iritiioiit Jalay t.> tUaaadertiJgned, reeldlng ia said toTrosbip,
ilARSHAr.L WUIGHT. ¦WILLUJI KIItO. no7l!)-6t*fi2 Hrocntarfl.
EXECUTOR'S NOTICli;.
Estate of Jolm Kraft, late gf "West Sari tcwu-
ship, deceased.
LETTEKS Testamentary on s.'u<l escyte having boaa graslrd to thn u<idere!;:ac«t. nit per- naa* indttVUd tbaroto aro requested to mik<^ laiU2<ll£:n Bottlament, nod Ibntiebnvicy tUltai or Gonia:;^-!agaiti'-t thaasaioMIlpret'eatth^'m wllboa: dcU? for K^:iie- maot tu lheandcrfilgn3d,r£*-;diog is v*-.l'l inwuhi-lii,
Kiii:^Oi:L i>ui:k-.
uor l2-6t-ei ExucQKir.
EXECUTOR'S KOTICE
Estato of Pfailip Geist, Iateof WestLaiap&ter
TownEnip,  dosssacd.
LKTTEllS testaiiieutary ou KaJil estate haviag leea gianted lo lbe nnilcrsiscoi. %11 ptr- Buns iudetJted ibercio ^zn reqaeated lo mnke imuieaiRto settlement, nnd Iboae baviog cl-iiuii or demtniisagiiai^t tha uatue ivIlI proscat tbcru tvitliout delay for rtittl-i- ment to the ttnderiiigaed Esccotnn.
JACObO. BRUBAIC!:?., >
Keiiding la West Lampetfir ivrp. )
JOUOt'bl'IiUHil, F.Ciiaiagia i'rcv:JiDCo lor.¦n^b',J^ noT 12-i)l»-5l
EXECUTOR'S NOTICR. Estate of Barbara Broneniau, late of tlio Bo¬ rough of ColumMa, Lancastor counly, dec'd,
LETTEllS Tc.=taaientory on th? ^-sta*.: >f said decoaead havin;;bosn ^craatei in tbo amiei- uigaeJ Execnttir bf tbetriilof ifn^d t!e:oziQi. reaiJSag ia the city of Lancaetor. lie horeby giva-t noiice t-: all porsoBS having claiius or ilqmands tipatast Kaltlci-iitt'i, to maka known the same lo him, aad tboae knoivl!::,' themflelvea indcbtrti tn aail ebtAfi nro leieciled u make paymett iritboat delay, oct 29-6t -IO W, CAHPt:;;TEi:, Eseccio.-,
ADMINISTR.\T0R'3 NOTiCE.
Estato of ITmanucl Hudy, lato of Hanliuim
Towusliip, doceased.
T ETTEKS of administration 0:1 s-iiJ
i 4 enlate having'oijefl firauled lo tl:*i cuJer-igyad, all pereous indebted ihrato ara r€<itte=t-il Io iciik" \ii'.- mediateeottIeuicnt.uadthoeetiftTtogc!i:ii:riorrf';t:i..!id-i against tha eame wlli pre-mt ibrm *vi;!i.>ii' <I->137 for aettlemeat to tba andertilgacd, ro'idiii^ in i.-^d U^t.' ship. JOUy i;U:)V  Jr.
Bov26-G;»-l idtuiaK-:r.ili>r,
ADMINISTRATORS' NOTICE.
Estate of Phares Good, late of TTppar Leacock Townsbip, deceasod,
LETTPjRS of adininistration on said estate haviag boan granted to the ixnd ora'.:: ned, all pardons Indabted tbaroto are ref\i:eii'»J t'» nia'sa In- meiiata Battl^mect, asd those .baving cIsIl:* pt lie- mandd against tho pamo will pi?nnn: Ibcia ^Uboi.'. delay f9r tettlem^n: tv Ibd aBdBT^It:cnJ. r^^ldiu;; in Weut Karl township. I'KAliKLi:; U00i>.
BOT 5.6t*-60
ASSIGNEE'S NOTICE.
Assinged Estato of Isaac Bessler aud V/ifo, of
Warwict Townsliip, Lancaster County.
IS^VAG KESSLER and Wife of A\^ar- wick towaabip. having by deed ol Tolratary ri-.. BignoiBnt, dated the foorth day of Woven)bar. :i?sl^noi nnd traaaferred all tbe!r Obtate and effects to tbn u:.- derdigned, for the beaeat of tbe creditors of the xiki luaac Uoi)3ler, ha therefore gives nolico to a.11 par^'nx indebted to said assignor, to make pnym^'jt to tbe nn¬ deraigned witnont dalay, and those hiving claims tj present tbem to JOHN B. KP.B. A«-ilgnee.
HOT 12 61-61] Heaidiog in LU'.Z, L%nc. cj , P*.
ASSIGNEE'S NOTICE, "
Assigned Estate of Christian S. Grubo aud Wife, of Manheim twp-, Laticaator CO.
CHRISTIAN S. GRUBE and Wife, of Manbeim township, having by decl uf volna¬ tary assignment, nsdlgned and transferred all tbelr ea¬ tate and effects totbe nnderaigned, for Ihs iMaeUt m'tbii credilois of the aaid. Cbristian S. Ornbe, be tbcreforK gives notice to all persoas iadebied to aald aai-Ii^nor, tu make paymeat lo tbe naderMgned withont delay, and those having claims to prasent them W
HE.^UY H. KURTZ Ai«:g=-i. novl2-6i*5l rculdlnsln Slauhcim twp
itrtc,/yyft^i#^Sj^e.c^e#
BAHK KOTICE.
e'OTICE is hereby Kivca tliat tlie Prejldan'.and Dirsetora of tbe Lanca-,?er Coontr k, inlend to make application to the Leginlalnro of tbe Commonwealth of I'.mDi>y!ra3i.i, .-.t tbolr n-xt Eossion, for a renewal of lbo charter, and an extensloa of tha prLvflegasof tbo mid Bunk wich aU tha ri,'htn and priTiieges now enjoyed, for a tarm of Twenty years from the expiration of Ibrf nrcsent caailflf, wltli the same name, titlo,Iscatiun and cii>)tHl cf $3-JU,GCU Ey order
W, L. PEIPEK, Cayhier of Linciater Connty b'ank. Jnne 18  Cni.S:> _
HOTICE.
Farmers'Bank of L<anvnifter, )
Laxcasteu, Jnne 'iS, l£i92.    \
THE President and IJircctoi's of tlio FARMERS' BANK OF LASCASTEK, Intand wab- ing application to the Legielatare of tba Com mon wi's'tb of Peansylvania, at thoir ue'^* •'Sif-ion for * jauitvcAX af their charter, with ita present locitioa'aoa n«vuynz'i. caplwl o'$600,000, and with all tbi*:rlght-* .•»ail privtl- eges now enjoyed. EDWAUD H. UKO WS,
Cashier of Iho Farmerb' Bank of Lancaater. jaly 2 3i.-i-2i;
LOAIf.
TT.   S.  GOVfiBNiaENT
FIVE-TWBSTY  TEARS. ¦
nj'^HE interest on  this j^oaa i.s Si:c per
X ceut. per aiiaam. payubla bjlf jm-tXy. on tba int daysof MAV and .NOVEMBER. In Giid- lI..ad-( of 50, 100, eno and lOCJ dollars each can b^ ImJ at par ft IbiH E, 11. UR0\V:i. •w'Mbl.^r,
Farmera' Bank of Laucaslf.-.
Bank.
Bovia-if
DEPUTY Q M.GEN»L. OFFICE,
FuiLADELrniA.lSth Ifovombjr, ld'}2.
"PROPOSALS will be reooived at this
X_ OfflM unlll FBIDAT, Mlh'loft.. at V! o-clu:k, M., lur lhe <i«l!very Id lUU City, Rt hhj point lliat may b. reqaired. o( Fire Handred Army TraDbptirlaiiua Wa¬ gona, to be made oftbe beat toalerlBl accordiag to spe- clBcations'lo be seen Jn thla Offlce and Babjael lo In- epactiop. All to bo completed and ready for dellrary on or before the 3t.>.t Deceuiber, i&tl2. Tb. rlltbl Ih tt. served to reject all bide loo bigb.
(Signed,) A. BOrD,
noT 28-11-1 Capt.iD, Sr.M. n. S. A.
EYE -WANTED. ~
THE Subscriber -will pay the highest eaeb price for Rye dalWered at bla fioaellng Ek- tabJlBhnient Ifo. 207, Eabt Klng-etreet, I.aQcai!ter, Pu. Tbe Bye maet be oftbe beal qnallly. ag 13-t(-3S J. S. MILLEK.
25,000 LBS. TALLOW WAM TED. 'T^HE subscriber will pay the highest
JL cash prUeforTALLOWdeliTered atbl. Cbandley, Ho. 145 Norlb Qaeen fctroet, one and a balf f-iuare abore tbe railroad depot. _oct 2i.3in.48 HEEMAII_MILLEE.
POB SALE.
AFODE-HORSE (Retubn-Flue) STKAM BOILEE, will be eold LOW, If applied for eooa. Tbe Boiler caa be eeea at BEST'S BOILER MAN- FACTORY, Eaat CbesDUt Street, oearly oppoelte the Hailroad Depot. Enqoire at tha ExCiL.Ea a.vd Bee- alsPbistihqOpfiob tuay7-tf-24
Presh Garden Seed<9—Ne-w Crop. nPHE attention of Farmers and Gard-
M eoere, h reqoeeted to the large rariaty of KEW CHOP OABDEN SEEDB, Jait recelred'and for -al. •»hol.oalo and lelall, at J. B. MAKKLET'S.
may l-tf-M
Apothecary, Horth One uat.
Poaters* S«le SUU, fto.^ prlaud at ehort noUc Uld la the beat etyle At tble offlce. The largeet and Met eel««Uoa ol type for thla particalar brueh of prifll. •f WlU In foasd *l IU> MUbUihrnut.