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VOL. XXXIX. LANCASTER, PA, WEDNfeSDA¥^ MAI31, 1865, Wi 28. se .THIS Am > The Examiner and Herald and ^s:ttcR8t(r H^nira^ Is iPablialied ovisrsr SattLrdajr, AT S2i A YEAR, OR $2 IN ADVANCE. OFflCS Ko. 32J{ SORTU qVEEK STUSST- 11 immi 1 mTSinb. u j. l iamman, Edltort an^ Proprietor-. «-AU bTUdncMlotte«,CQfnmuaicatloiis,Ao.,Bhomd I^ancaiter) Fa. ADVERTIfll^'^J DKPAHTMBNT. Pi,nKcss ^BTtRTisEKKOTS ty the year. Of fractiODBof a T^rtj^te charged «t the r.te of $12-00 per square oflai licoi. Ten per cent Increwe on the yearly r»t# nr fraotioiiB of a year. „ ,„ „ " Smonthl. 6 months. 12 montt*. 0,e Square « 4-'» * 8.00 «1100 T*o siaarM O-'W 13.00 20.00 Throe SiiOareJ - 12.00 30.00 26.00 PmL ErtATi, PiaaoSAi Propibtt and Gxkirai Abtie- TtEl^o to bo chaiged at the rata of SetKit cents per -« ]Iat; for the first imtertlon, and Aur centa per line for nTeryBubsequent Iniertlou. PATcst MKDioixis, BintEa, and all other AnviEini. kbst,*, by the column, halt third, or quarter colnmp: I rt)lutnn, vearlT, $100 00 I ^ colttmn, yearlyi $^0 00 U Polamn, yearly, 60 00 | i<i coiumn, yearly, SO 00 alt.iN'«33 Oarda, yearly, not exoeedlntt (en Uneo, $10 00 BailnesB CaBog, B UneB or less, %b 00. lEOAL Noticed to be cbargtd asfolloirfl : Executors' Notices, $2 00 I Asdgnef s' NoUcM, 2 00 Adm'Pb-*Notices, 2 00 | Andltors'Nptices, J 50 All Notices offfTillneB.orJMB.orttrM Inwrtlons,! 60 Local Notices to bo paid for at the rato of Un cents per line for the first insertion, aad^^oe cents par line tor "very subsequent InEertion. Bishops, pb Special Notices.—All adTertisemeDtH pre¬ ceding tbe Marriages or Maikets to bo charged the Eame rates ai Local Notices. PcATii Notices inpertad without charge. TaiBCTCBny respect, Hkfdictjosb, Ac^ to be chargsd 10 cectc per line. ConMUStCATioSH settinfc forth the claims of indiTiduala fcr office, Ac, to be charged 10 cents per line. ABBAH&U LINCOLN. FOULLY ASSASSINATED, APRIL 14, 1865. Teu lay a ¦wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier. You, who with mo .'king pencil wont to traco. Broad for tho self-complacont British anecr, ¦^ His length of shambling liinb,'.hi3 furroired face. His gaunt, gnarled bands, bis unkempt, bri^tliug hair, His garb uncouth, bis tearing ill at eoso, Hia lack of all wc prize as debonair, Of power or trill to sbino, of art to please. Yon,whosQ smart pen backed up the pencil's laugh^ Judging each step as though tba nay were plain; Iteckice^, so it could point Its paragraph, Of chiefs perplexity, or people's pain. Beside this corpse, that bears for winding-eboot The stara and stripes ho lived to rear anew. Between tbe jaooriiors at bi5 bead and foct, Say, Fcurril j-ister, is there room for you? Yvs, he biid lived to sbamo mo from my aoccr. To lame my pencil, and confute my pen— To malic ma own thi? bind of princes peer, ThiJ rail-splitior a trae-born king of men. My shallaw judgment I had loarnt to rue. Noting how to occasion's height he rose, Huw hia quaint wit made homo truth seem more true, h. How, iron-like, bis temper grew by blows. How bumble, yet how hopeful bo could be: How in goad fortune and in ill the same: Nor bitter in gucccfa, nor boastful ho, Tbirety for gold, nor feverish for fame. He ;rtnt about his work—such work ai few Kvcr had laid on bead and heart and han J— As ono who koows, where there's a task to do, Alan's honest will must Heaven's good grace commacd; Who trusts the strength will with the harden grow, That God makes Instrcmcnts to work his wUl, If but that will wo can crrirc to know, Nor tamper with the weights of good and U!. So he went forth to bnttlo, on the stdo That he felt clear was Liberty's and Right's, Af in bis peasant boyhood he bad pUod Uis warfare with rude Nature's thwatting . mights— Tho uncleared forest, tbu uubrokoa soil, Tho iron bark that turns tbe lumberer's axo. The rapid, that o'orboars the boatman's toil. The prairie, hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks The ambushed Indian, and the prowling boar— Such wore the needs that helped bi'i youth to train; "iiough culture—but such trees largo fruit may bear. If but their stocks bo of right girth and grain. So ho grew up, a destined work to do, And lived to do it; four long-tuffcriag years' U-fate, ill-ffecllng, ill-report, lived through, And then ho beard tho hisses change to cheers. The taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise, And took both with the same unwavering mood: Till as be came on light, from darkling days. And seemed to touch the goal from where ho stood. A felon bad, between the goal and bim, lloacbcd from behind his back, n trigger prost And those pcrplcsed and patient eyes were dim, Those gaunt, long-laboring limbs were laid to rea! The words of mercy were upon his lipa. Forgiveness in bis heart and on hia pen, When ibis vilo murderer brought awiftcclipaa To thoughts of peace on earth, good-will to men. 'i lio Old World and the New, from sea to boi, Utt*r one voice of sympathy and shamo ! Sere heart, so stopped when it .it last beat high ; Sad lifd, cut sloit just osita triumph came. A deed accurst! Strokes have been struck before By the nssaisin's hand, whcro:>f men dvubt If more of horror or disgrace they bore; But thy foul crime, like Cain's, stands darkly out. Vilo band_ that brandist murder on a stnfe, Vi'bate'crits grounds, stoutly and nobly striven And with the martyr's crown crowncst a lifo With much to praise, iittic to bo forgiToa t [London rtnich ] DEWS COW. I went down io Hie farm-yard ono day Inst month, nnd ns I opened the gate I heard VaI Kalony say, " Biddy ! Biddy V I thought at first he was calling a hen, hut then I remembered tho hens were nil shut into tho poultry-houso that' day, to he sorted, and numbered, and con* demned : so I looked again, thinking per¬ haps Pat's little lame sister had strayed up from the vilage and gone into the barn after Sylvy'a kittens, or a pigeon*egg, or to see a now calf; but, to my surprise, I saw a red cow, of no particular beauty or breed, coming out of the stable-door, look¬ ing about her as if in search of somebody or something; and when Pat called again, •* Biddy ! Biddy 1 Biddy !" the creature walked up to him across the yard, stretched out her awkward neck, sniffed a little over, he drank,—not to real drunkenness, and cropped from his-haod the wisp of but enough to m»ke him oroBs and intrao- and carry on the bakery in a matrimonial partneraliip, Mrs. German said sho " guessed slie would," and announced to Dely on Monday morning that she was going to have a step-father. Dely was astonished and indignant, but to no pur¬ pose. Mrs. German cried and rocked, and rocked and-oriedagsini rather more silently than when her husband died, but for all that she did not retract; and in due time she got into the stage with her elderly lover and went to Meridian, where they got married, and came home next day to carry on the bakery. Joo German had been foolish enough to leave all his property to his wife, and Dely had no resource but to slay at home and endure her disagreeable position as well as she could, for Tom Kenyon swore and chewed, and smoked beside; more- ¦\ViiiT «-E Love a 'Woii.vs ron —Some one, speaking of a beautiful girl with en¬ thusiasm, said he was almost in love with her, though her understanding was, by no means, brilliaut. "Pooh!" said Go3the, laughing, "as if love had anything to do with understanding! We love a girl for very difi'erent things than understanding. Wo love her for her beauty, her youth, her mirth, her conlidingness, her charac¬ ter, irith its faults, caprices, and heaven knows^what other inexpressible charms; but we do not love her understanding. Her mind v.e esteem (if it is brilliant,) and it may elevate her in our opinion . nay, more, it may enchain us when we already lovo. But her understanding is not that which awakens and inflames our passions. K Sheriff was once asked to execute a writ against a Quaker. On arriving at iiis house ho saw tho Quaker's wife, who 1 in reply to the inquiry whether her bus. band was at homo, said he was, at tho same time requested him to bo seated and her husband would speedily see him' The officer waited patiently for some time, tho fair Quakeress coming into the room, ho reminded her of her promise that be might see her husband. "Nay, friend, 1 promised thet he would see thee. He has seen thee. lie did not like thy looks; therefore he avoided thee, and hath de¬ parted from the bouse by another path." The Duke of Wellington once lost his temper with the pragmatical imbecility of one of his colleagues in a certain British administration, so far as to say of that vexatious personage, " ho is intolerable because he is educated beyond the calibre of his brains to bear." The Duke's de¬ scription fits a large class of people whom it is the tendency of modern life to thrust into an unnatural prominence; a class so large as to have wrung from Carlyle the sardonic declaration that " all Christen¬ dom is in conspiracy for the promotion of fools." rovren hay he held, as composedly as if she were a tame kitten, and then followed him all around the yard for more, which 1 am sorry to say she did not get.' Pat had only displayed her accomplishments to astonish me, and then shut her in her siall again. I afteripard hunted out Bid¬ dy's history, and here it is. On tho Derby turnpike. Just before you enter Hanerford, everybody that ever travelled that road trill remember Joseph German's bakery. It was a red brick house, with dusty windows toward the street, and just inside the door a little shop, where Mr. German retailed the scal¬ loped cookies, flutted ginger bread, long loaves of bread, and scantly filled pies, in which he dealt, and which were manu¬ factured in tho long shop, where in tho summer you caught glimpses of flour-bar- rela all a-row, and men who might have come out of those barrels, so strewed with flour were all their clothes,—paper-cap and white apron scarcely to be distin¬ guished from the rest of the dress, as far as color and dustiness went. Here, too, •when her father drove out the cart every afternoon, sitting in front of the counter with her sowing or her knitting, Dely Ger¬ man, the baker's pretty daughter, deal out the cakes .ind rattled the pennies in her apron-pocket with so good a grace, that not a young farmer came into Haner¬ ford with grain or potatoes or live stock, who did not cast a glance in at the shop- door, going toward town, and go in on his return, ostensibly to buy a sheet of gin¬ gerbread or a dozen cookies for bis re¬ freshment on the drive homeward. It was a curious thing tosee how much hung¬ rier Ihey were on tho way home than coming into town. Though they might have had a good dinner in Hanerford, that never appeased their appetites en¬ tirely, while in the morning they had driven their slow teams all the way with¬ out so much as thinking of cakes and cheese! So by the time Dely was seven¬ teen, her black eyes and bright cheeks were well known for miles about, and many a youth, going home to the clean kitchen where his old mother sat by the fire knitting, or his spinster sister scolded and scrubbed over his muddy boot-tracks, thought how pretly it would look to see Dely German sitting on the other side, in her neat calico frock and white apron, her black hair shining smooth, and her frcish, bright face looking a welcome. But Dely did not think about any one of them in a reciprocal manner ; she liked them all pretty well, but she loved nobody except her father and mother, her three oats and all their kittens, the big dog, the old horse, and a wheezy robin that she kept in a caco, because her favorite cat had half killed it one day and it never could fly any more. For all these dumb things she had a really intense affection : as for her father and mother, she seemed to be apart of them ; it never occurred to her that they could leave her, or she them; and when old Joe German died one sum, mer day, just after Dely was seventeen, she was nearly distracted. However, peo_ pie who must work ior their living have to get over their sorrows, practically, much sooner than those who can afford time to indulge them ; and as Dely knew more about the business and the shop than anybody hut tbe foreman, she had to resume her place at the counter before her father had been buried a week. It was a great source of embarrassment to her rural admirers to see Dely in her black frock, pale and sober, when they went in! they did hot know what to say ; they felt as if their hands and feet had grown very big all at once, and as if the cents in their pockets never could be got at, at which they turned red and hot and got choked, and went away swearing internally at their own blundering shyness, and more deep¬ er smitten than ever with Dely, because they wanted to comfort herso very much, and did n't know how ! One, however, had the sense and sim¬ plicity to know how, and that was George Adams, a fine healthy young fellow from Hartland Hollow, who came in at least once a week with a load of produce from tho farm on which he was head man. Tho first time he went after his rations of gin. gerhread, and found Dely in her mourn¬ ing, he held out his hand and shook hers heartily. Dely looked up into his honest blue eyes and saw them full of pity. '• I'm real sorry.for you I" said George. " My father died two years ago." Dely burst into tcar8,Bnd George couldn't help stroking her bright hair softly and saying, " Oh, don't !" So she wiped her eyes, and sold him the cookies the want¬ ed ; but from that day there was one of Dely's customers that she liked beat, one team of whito horses she always looked out for, and one voice that hurried the color into her face, if it was ever so pale ; and the upshot of pity and produce and gingerbread was that George Adam and Dely German were heartily in loTO with each other, and Dely began to be comfort¬ ed for her father's loss si.x months after he died. Not that she knew why, or that George had ever said anything to her more than was kind and friendly, but she felt a sense of reet, and yet a sweet rtst- lossness, when ho was in her thoughts or presence, that beguiled her grief and made her unintentionally happy; it was tho old, old story; the one eternal novelty that never loses its vitality, its interest, its bewitching power, nor ever will till Time shall be no more. But the year had not elapsed, devoted to double crape and triple quillings, bo- fore Dely's mother, too, began to be con¬ soled. She was a pleasant, placid, feeble- natured woman, who liked her husband very well, and fretted at him in a mild, persistent way a good deal. He swore and chewed tobacco, which annoyed her * he also kept a tight grip of bis money, which was not pleasant; but she missed him very much when he died, and cried and table; worse than all, he had a son, the only child of his first marriage, and it soon beoamo unplesantly evident to Daly that Steve Kenyon had a mind to marry her, and his father had a mind he should- Now it is all "^QTy well to marry a per¬ son one likes, but to go through that cer¬ emony with one you dislike is more than anybody has a right to require, in my opinion, as well as Dely's; so when her mother urged upon her the various advantages of the match, Steve Ken¬ yon being the present master and pros¬ pective owner of his father's tavern, a groat resort for horse-jockeys,, cattle- dealers, and frequenters of State and County fairs, Dely still objected to marry him. But the more she objected, the more her mother talked, her step-father swore, and the swaggering lover persisted in his attentions at all times, so that the poor girl had scarce a half-hour to her¬ self. She grew thin and pale and unhap¬ py enough; and one day George Adams, stepping in unexpectedly, found her with her apron to her eyes, crying most bitter¬ ly. It took some persuasion, and some more daring caresses than he had yet ven¬ tured on, to get Dely's secret trouble to light. I am inclined to think fteorge kis. sed her at least once before she would tell him what she was crying about; but Dely naturally came to the conclusion, if he loved her enough to kiss her, and she loved him enough to like it, she might as well share her troubles, and tho conse¬ quences was, George asked her then and there to share his. Not that either of them thought there would be troubles under that copartnership, for the day was sufficient to them ; and it did not daunt Dely in the least to know that George's only possessions were a heifier calf, a sui t of clothes, and twenty dollars. About a month after this eventful day, Dely went into Ilaneifordon an errand, she said; so did George Adams. They stepped into the minister's together and were married; so Dely's errand was done, and she rode out on the front seat of George's empty wagon, stopping at the bakery to tell her mother and got her trunk ; having chosen a day for her er¬ rand when-her step-father had gone away after a load of flour down to Hanerford wharves. Mrs. Kenyon went at once in¬ to wild hysterics, and called Dely a jade- hopper, and an ungrateful child; but not understanding the opprobrium of the one term, and not deserving the other, the poor girl only criod a little, and helped George with her trunk, which held all she could call her own in the world,—her clothes, two or three cheap trinkets, and a few books. She kissed the oats all round, bugged the dog, was glad her rob¬ in had died, and then said good bye lo her mother, who refused to kiss her, and said George Adams was a snake in the grass. This was too much for Dely ; she wiped her eyes, and clambered over the wagon-wheel, and took her place beside George wilh a smile so much like crying that he began to whistle, and never stop¬ ped for two miles. By that time they were in a piece of thick pine woods, when, look¬ ing both before and behind to be certain no one was coming, he put his arm round his wife and kissed her, which seemed to have a consoling effect; and by the time they reached his mother's little house, Dely was as bright as ever. A little bit of a house it was to bring a wife to, but it suited Dely. It stood on the edge of a pine wood,' where tho fra¬ grance of the resinous boughs kept the air sweet and pure, and their leaves thrill¬ ed responsive to every breeze. The house was very small and very red, it had two rooms below and one above, but it was neater than many a five-story mansion, and far more cheerful; and when Dely wentinatihe door, she thought there could be no prettier sight than' the ex¬ quisitely neat old woman sitting in her arm-chair on one side of the fireplace, and her beautiful oat on the other, purring and winking, while the tea kettle sang and sputtered over the bright fire of pine- cones, and the tea table at the other side of tho room was spread with such clean linen and such shining crockery that it mado one hungry even to look at the brown bread and butter and pink radish OS that were Dely's wedding-supper- It is very odd how happy people can be, when they are as poor as poverty, and don't know where to look for their living but to the work of their own hands Genteel poverty is horrible; it is impossi¬ ble for one to be poor, and elegant and comfortable; but downright, simple, un¬ blushing poverty may be the most blessed of states ; and though it was somewhat of a descent in tbe social scale for Dely to marry a farm-hand, foreman though he might be, she loved her George so devout¬ ly and healthily that she was as happy as a woman could be. George's mother, the sweetest and tenderest mother to him, look his wife to a place beside his in her heart, and the two women loved each other the more for this man's sake ; ho was a bond between them, not a division; bard work left them no thought of rank, ling jealousy lo make their lives bitter, and Dely was happier than ever she had thought she should be away from her mother. Nor did tbe hard work hurt her> for she took to her own share all of it that was out of doors and troublesome to the infirmities of the old lady. She tend¬ ed the calf in its little log but, shook down the coarse hay for its bed, made its grue^till it grew beyond gruel, tlicn drove it daily to the paiture where it fed, gave it extra rations of bread and apple-parings and carrot-tops, till the croaturo knew her voice and ran to her call like a pet kitten, rubbing its soft, wat nose against her red cheek, and showing in a dozen blundering, calfish ways that it both knew and loved her. There are two sorts of people in tbe world,—those who love animals and those and the ox that tteadeth out tho corn.— With men or women who despise animals andtreat thomasimero beasts and brutes 1 never want to trust my weary heart or my aching head;but with. Dely 1 could have trusted both safely, and the calf and the cat agreed with me. • ¦ So, in this happy, homely life, the sweet centre of her own bright little world, De¬ ly passed the first year of her wedded lifo and then tho war came! Dreadful pivot of almost all our late lives 1 On it also this rude, idol turned. George, enlisted for the war. It was not in Dely or his mother to stop him. Though tears fell on every round of bis blue socka and sprinkled bis flannel shirts plentifully,^thougb the old wo¬ man's wan and wrinkled face pale and saddened, and the young one's fair throat quivered with choking sobs when they were left alone,—still, whenever George appeared, he was greeted with smiles and cheers, strengthened and sfeadicd from this home armory better than with sabre and bayonet, " with might in tho inner man." George was a brave fellow no doubt, and would do good service to his free country ; -but it is a question with me, whether, when the Lord calls out his " noble army of martyrs" before the uni¬ verse of men* and angels, that army will not be found officered and led by just such women as these, who fought silently with the flesh and th a Devil by their own hearth, quickened by noatinging' excite¬ ment of hattle, no thrill of splendid' strength and fury in soul and body, no tempting delight of honor or even recog¬ nition from their peers,—upheld only by the dull, recurrent necessities of duty and love. At any rate, George went, and they stayed. The town made them an allow¬ ance as a volunteer's family; they had George's bounty to begin with; and • a friendly boy fromithe farm near by came and sawed their wood, took care of the garden, and when Dely could not go to pasture with tho heifer, drove her to and fro daily._ \ After George had been gone three months, Dely hall a little baby. Tiny and bright as it Iwas, it seemed like a small star fallen down from some upper sky to lighten their darkness. Dely was almost too happy; and the old grand¬ mother, fast slipping into that other world whence baby seemed to have but newly arrived, stayed her feeble steps a little longer to wait upon her son's child. Yet, for all tho baby, Daly never forgot her dumb loves- The cat bad still its place on the foot of her bed; and her first walk was to the barn, where the heifer lowed welcome to her mistress, and rubbed her head against the hand that caressed herj with as much feeling as a cow can sbovv, however ruuch she may lisive. And Biddy, the heifer, was a good friend to that little household, all through that long ensuing winter. It went to Dely's heart to sell h'er .first calf lo the butcher, but they could not .'raise' it, and when it was taken away she threw and when; george ciinw'.bnck from the irarsi.he must liv hear t^jsatof his life." . Dely's tender ..heart ms ^eally stirred by'tiio letter, yet she w^.undecided what ¦tojdo. Hero she wasAloue and poor.; there would "bo her motlier,—and she lov¬ ed her mother,' thouglftSM;could not re¬ spect her; there, too, was plenty for all; and if George should ever come home, the bakery business was just the thing for him,—he had energy and courage enough to redeem a sinking affair like that. But then what ahould she do with the cow ? Puss could go.home with her; but Biddy t —there was no place for £iddy. Taslure was scarce and. dear about Hanerford; ¦Dely's father had given up keeping a cow long before his death for that reason; but how couid Dely leave and sell her faith¬ ful friend and.compahion ? Her heart sank at the thought; it almost turned thesoalo, for one pitiful moment, against common sense and filial feeling. But baby cough¬ ed,—nothing more than a slight cold, yet Daly thoug.ht, as she had often thought I bought that cow cheap than I could ha' before, with a quick thrill of terror, What I sold my old gran'ther to a tin-peddler.— if baby were ever sick ? Seven miles be-(Somehow, she was so innocent, an, she twcenherand thenearestdoctor; nobody j was so innocent, an' she felt so to part to send, nobody to leave, baby with, and | with the critter, an, then she let nae she-herself utterly inexperienced in the! know'tGeorge was in the army; an'thinks care of children. The matter was decided I I, I guess I'll help the Gov'ment along at once; and before the driver who brought j some; I can't fight, 'cause I'm subjest to her mother's letter had come, on his next! rheumatiz in my back, but I can look for journey, for the answer lr« had offered to j them that can ; so, take the hull on't, carry, Dely's letter was written, sealed,! long an' broad, why, I up an' gin her sey- to halter 'em up with, an'a dry yard where the water all drcens off as slick as can bet an' there a'n'l such a piece o' land now- horo round for roolcrops; an' tho Squiro he sets such store by his cows an' things; I 've Ueerd tell bo turned off two Irish¬ men for ahusin' on 'em ; an' they has their bags washed an' their tails combed every day in the year,—an' I don't know but what they lies 'em up with ablew ribbin.''. "Get out I" growled Grandfather. . " Can't jest yet. Squire, not t'U I've done. Anyway, I figgered it off to her, an' she was kinder consolsd up to thing brj't; for 1 told her I thought likely yoti'd buy. her cow, an' when we come to the tradin' part, why, confound it 1 she wa'n'fno more fit to buy aii' sell a critter, than my three-year-old Hepsy; I said a piece baok I hadn't got much natur,' an' a man that trades dumb beasts the big¬ gest part o' the time hadn't onghter hev; but I swan to man I natur'was too much for roe this time; I couldn't no more ha' rocked, and said how afflicted she was, as who do not. I have seen them both and much as was necessary, even in the neigh bor'a opinion. But as timu went on, she. found the business very bard to manage; even with Dely and the foreman to help her, the ledger got all astray, and the day book followed its example; so when old Tom Kenyoa, who kept the tavam half a mile farther out, took to. coming Sun¬ day nights to Bee the " Widder Qermaii,'' and finally proposed to share her troubles have known both ; and if sick or oppress, ed, or borne down with dreadful sympa- her check apron over her bead, and buried her face deep in the pillow,. that she might not hear the cries of apealand grief her favorito uttered. • After this, 'Biddy would let no one milk her but her mistress ; and many an inarticulate con¬ fidence passed between the two while tho sharp streams of milk spun and foamed into the pail below, as Dely's skilful hands coaxed it down. They heard from George often; he was well, and busy with drill and camp life,— not in active service aayet. Incidentally, loo, Dely heard of her mother. Old Kenyon was dead of apoplexy, and Steve like to die of drink. This was a bit of teamster's gossip, but proved to be true. Towards the endlof the winter, old Moth¬ er Adams slept quietly in the Lord. No pain or sickness gasped her, through she knew she was dying, kissed and blessed Dely, sent a mother's message to George, and took the baby for the last time into her arms; then she laid her head on the pillow^, smiled, and drew a long breath,— no more. [ Poor Dely's life was very lonely; she buried her dead put of her sighTl wrote a loving sobbingj letter to George, and began to try to live alone. Hard enough it was ! March | revenged itself on the past toleration of winter; snow fell in blinding fury, and drifts hid tho fences and fenced the doors all through Hart- land Hollow. Day after day Dely strug. gle through theipath to the barn to feed Biddy and milk jher; and a warm mess of bread and milk often formed her only meal in that bitter weather. It is not credible to those who think no more of animals than of chairs and stones how much society and solace they afford to those who do lovo them. Biddy was really Dely's friend. Many a long day passed when no human face but the baby's greeted her from dawn till dusk. But the cow's beauliful purple eyes all ways turned to welcome her as she en¬ tered its shed-door ; her wet muz-zle touch ed Dely's check with a velvet caress; and while her mistress drew irom the downy bag its white and rich stores, Biddy would turn her head round, and eye her with such mild looks, and breathe such fra¬ grance to her, that Dely, in her solitary and friendless state; came to regard her a reai sentient being, capable of love and sym¬ pathy, and had an affection for her that would seem utter nonsense to half, perhaps three quarters, of the people in this un¬ sentimental world. Many a time did the lonely little woman lay her head on Bid¬ dy's neck, and talk to her.about George with sobs and silence interspersed ; and many a piece of dry bread steeped in warm water, or golden carrot, or mess of slewed turnips and bread, flavored the dry hay that was the staple of the cow's diet.— The cat was old now, and objected to the baby so strenuously that Dely regarded her as partly insane from age; and though he was kind to her of course, and fed her faithfully, still a cat that could growl at George's baby was not regarded wilh the same complacent kindness that had al¬ ways blessed fher before; and whenever the baby was asleep at milking-timo. Pus¬ sy was locked into the closet,—a proceed¬ ing she resented. Biddy, on the contrary, seemed to admire the child,—she certain¬ ly did not object to her,—aud necessarily obtained thereby a far higher place in De¬ ly's heart than the cat. As I have already baid, Dely had beard of her stepfather's death some lime be¬ fore ; and one stormy day, the last week in Mirch, a team coming from Hanerford with grain slopped at the door of the lit¬ tle red bouse, and the driver handed De¬ ly a dirty, illiwritten letter from her mo¬ ther. Just such an epistle it was as might have been expected from Mrs. Kenyon, full of weak sorrow, and entreaties to De¬ ly to come home and live ; she was old and tired, the bakery was coming to trou and put on th© shelf, and she was busy contriving and piecing out a warm hood and cloak forbaby to ride in. But every time she went to the barn to milk Biddy or feed her, the tears sprang to her eyes, ond her mind misgave her. Never before had the dainty bits of food been so plentiful for her pet, or her neck so tenderly stroked. Dely had written to bar mother that she would come to her' as soon as her affairs were settled, and she had spoken to Orrin Nye, who brought tbe letter, to find a purchaser for her cow. Grandfalrher Hollis, who bought Biddy, and in whose farmyard I made her acquantance, gave me the drover's account of the matter, which will be bet¬ ter in his words than mine. It seems he brought quito a herd of milch cows down to Avondale, which is twenty miles from Hanerfoid, and hearing that Srandfather wanted a couple of cows, became to "trade wilh him," as he expressed it. He had two beautiful Ayrshires in the lot,—clean heads, shining skins, and good milkers, —that mightily pleased the old gentle¬ man's fancy; for he had long brooded over bis favorite scheme of a pure blooded herd, and tho red and white clouded Ayr¬ shires showed beautifully on his green hillside pastures, and were good slock be¬ sides. But Aaron Stov^ insisted so perti¬ naciously that he should buy this red cow, that the Squire shoved his Iiat back and put both bis hands in his pockets, a symp¬ tom of defcrmination with him, and be. gan to question him. They lenced awhile, in true Yankee:faihion, till at last Grand¬ father became exasperated. "Look here, Aaron Slow I',' said he, ".what in thunder do you pester me so about that cow for ? She's a good.enough beast, I see, for a native; but those Ayr¬ shires are belter cows and better blood, and you know it. ' What are you navi¬ gating round me for, so glib f" " Well, now. Squire," relumed Aaron, whittling at the gate with sudden vehe. mence, "fact is, I'voset'mymindon your buyin' that crilier, an you jes' set down on that 'cro milkin' stool an' I'll tell ye the rights on't, though I feel kinder meechin' myself, to be so soft about it as I bo" :" Leave off shaving my new gate,, then, and dori't, Ihirik I'm going to trust a hun¬ dred ,arid eighty five solid flesh to a three- legged stool. .I'm too old for ih'at: '.I'll sit on the step here Nowgo'ahead, man.'" 'So Grandfather sat down on. the step, and Aaron turned his back. against ' the gale and kicked one buOt on the other.— He was not used to narration. " Well, you know we had a dreadful spell o' weather a month ago. Squire.— There ha'n't never been such a March in in my day as this, last ; an' 't was worse up our way'n'.'t was here, an' down lo JIarlland Holler was Ihebeatof all Why, it snowed an' it blowed an' it friz till all Natur' could n't atan' it no more! Well, about them days 1 was down to Hartland Centre a-buyin' some fat cattle for Haner¬ ford market, an' I met Orrin Nye drivin' his team pretty spry, for he see it was com in' on to snow; but when he catched sight o' me, he slopped the horses an' hollered out to me, so I slapped along an' asked wliat he wanted ; an' he said there was a woman down to the Holler that had a cow to sell, an' he knowed I was apt to buy cow critters along in the spring, so he 'd spoke about it, for she was kinder in a hurry to sell, for she was goin' to move.— So I said I'd see to 't, an' he driv along. I thought likely Tshould git it cheap, ef she was in a hurry to sell, an' I conclud¬ ed I'd go along next day ; 't wa'n't more 'n' seven mile from tho Centre, down by a piece o' piny woods, an' the woman was Miss Adams, I used ter know George Adams quite a spell ago, an' he wasalike- ly fellow. Well, it come on to snow jest as fine an' dry as sand, an* the wind blew like needles, an', come next day, when I started to foot it down there, I did n't feel as though I could ha' gone, ef I had n't been sure of a good bargain ; the snow had n't driv much, but the weather had settled down dreadful cold; 't was dead still, an' the air sorter cut ye to breathe it; but I'm naterally hardy, an' I kep' along till I got there. I did n't feel so all-fired cold as I hev sometimes, but when I stepped in to tho door, an' sho asked me to hev a cheer by the fire fust I knew I did n't know nolhin'; I come to the floor like a felled ox. I expect I must ha' been nigh on to dead with clear cold, fer she was the best part o' ten min utes bringin' on me to. She rubbed my hands an' face with camphire an' gin me some hot tea ; she had n't got no spcrils in the house, but she did everything a lit¬ tle woman could do, an' I warmed through an' through afore long, an' wo stepped out into the shed to look at the cow. ; " Well, Squire, I ha'n't got much na¬ tur' into me noway, an' it's well I ha'n't; but that cow beat all, I declare for 't! She put her head round the minufe Miss Adams come in; an' if ever you see a dumb beast pleased, that 'ere cow was tickled to pieces. She put her nose down to tbe woman's cheek, an' she licked her hands, an' she moved up agin' her an' rubbed her ear on her,—she all but talk ed ; an' when I looked round an' see them black eyes o' Miss Adam's with wet in 'em, I 'most wished I had a pockethand- kercher myself. "'You won't sell her to a hard master, will you?' says she. *I want her to go where she '11 bt well cared for, an' I shall know; where she is; for if ever Jthings comes right agin, I want to hev her back, She '« been half my livin' an' all my com¬ pany for quiet a spell, an' 1 shall miss her dreadfully.'. enty five dollars for that cow,—an' I'd has brought!" thought she, emerging from her dream. " No, for there is noth¬ ing blithesome or merry about it. But surely the child—if child it is—boars some strange charm," she mused, as tho Ught from tho grey oyea wandered up towards the steely blue, and fluttering sigh seemed almost lo waft the frail being away. Poor lost one! did the sky too prove unsympa- thizing! Was heaven thy home beyond, thy earth-dimmed vision 1 A silver thread was woven with the teacher's monotonous duties that day.— She looked at the pure brow of the shad¬ owy stranger, whose presence she half be¬ lieved was an illusion. She laid her head among the soft hair to be sure that she was real. But when she touched the flut¬ tering hands, and met the wide-open, far seeing-eyes, and marked the swaying mo¬ tions, she watched for the bird to unfold its wings and fly far out of sight. But day after day the little stranger tarried.— This note of heavenly music floated among earthly discords. Eich morning she seem¬ ed fairer and more evanescent; and as the balmy spring air came in through the open doors, the teacher looked doubting- ly at her, thinking that she had cherished a vision—that the delicato stranger was a creation of fancy; and then sha seemed to melt away in the brightness shining down from the warm sky. One night, when the last rogue was done With, and the sixty chairs stood emp¬ ty, the teacher passed along the littered ha' gin twenty more not to ha' seen Miss side walk, intent on finding the home of Adams's face a-lookin' arter me an' her when we wont away from the door. "So now. Squire, you can take her or leave her." Aaron Slow knew this man. Squire Hollis pulled out bis pocket-bcok and paid seventy-five dollars-on the spot for a native cow called Biddy, " Now clear out with your Ayrshires !" said he, irascibly. " I'm a fool, but I won't buy them, too." " Well, Sqire, good day," said Aaron, with a grin. But I am credibly informed that the next week he did come back with tho two Ayrshires, and sold them to Grand-, father, remarking to the farmer that he " should ha' been a darned fool to take the old gentleman at bis word; for he never knowed a man hank arter harnsome stock but whfl t he bought it, fust or last.'tf Now I also discovered that theregiment George enlisted in was one whose Colonel I knew well; so I wrote and asked about Sergeant Adams. My report was highly honorable to George, but had some bad news in it; he had been severely wound¬ ed in the right log, and, though recover¬ ing, would be disabled from further ser¬ vice. A fortnight after 1 drove into Haner- ford"with Grandfather Hollis, and we stop¬ ped at the old bikery. It looked exquis¬ itely neat in tbe shop, as well as prosper¬ ous externally, andDely stood behind the counter with a lovely child in her arms. Grandfather bought about half a bushel of crackers and cookies, while I played with the bady. As he paid for them, he said in his kind old voice that nobody can bear without pleasure,— " I believe I havo a pet of yours in my bafn at Avondale, Mrs. Adtms." Dely's eyes lighted up, and a quick flush of feeling glowed on her pretty face. "Oh, sir! you did buy Biddy, then and you are Squire Hollis ?" "'i'es,Ma,am, and Biddy is well, and cared for, as fat and sleek as a mole, and still comes to her name." "That you.kindly. Sir!" said Dely, wilh an emphasis that gave the simple phrase most earnest meaning. "And how is your husband, Mrs. Adams 1 said I. A deeper glow displaced the fading blush Grandfather had called out,and;her beautiful eyes flashed at me. " Quite well, I thank you, and not so very lamo. And he's coming home next week." She took the baby from me. as she spoke, and, looking in its bright little face, said,— ^ "Call him. Baby!" "Pa-pa!" said the child. " If ever you come to Avondale, Mrs, the child about whom hung this vague unworldly mystery. Eunice Worth the scholars called her. On a remote alley was a little Metho¬ dist chapel, where an itinerant preacher had lately by a strange solemnity and an over-powering vehemence been stirring many souls. Was he the grave man who came to her door ? and did he call this flickering spirit his own? The names were identical. She would go and see^ although she might be pursuing a phan¬ tom. The light of the spring day was fading when she turned into a by-path and step¬ ped within the open door of the chapel The sombre room, made darker by twi¬ light shadows, was filled with a crowd which trembled before the earnestness of a haggard man, whose hollow cheek and burning eye bespoke an inward fire. But just at his side upon the high platform— unless the teacher's eyes deceived her—. was a ray of light in the gloom, the sha¬ dow of a dove upon the wild waters. Yes' as she looked again, the pure mith which haunted her school-room. She walked home in the early evening amid the scattering crowd. As she passed a basement window where a candle threw its sickly light over the street, iustinctive- ly she paused to look within the mouldy room. A gray-haired woman touched by a harsher finger than that of time, -vas seated on a cricket beside the threo leg¬ ged stool which supported the fluttering j caudle, steadily plying the needle. She lifted her head, and on her sharp features lay a peaceful smile ; for at her feet the sylph of the chapel rested, the gray-blue eyes turned towards the stained plaster¬ ing as if they met tho light of unfading stars. The teacher moved on thinking of the school when Eunice Worth first dawned upon it. Of the dirty, ragged coats, tbe smutty faces, the twisted legs and warped feet. Tho belligerent dispositions, the sly, deceitful natures and the reckless spirits. Each child so thoroughly pos¬ sessed of evil as io be inacce.''sible to good —or so tbe perplexed teacher was forced to believe. What weary hours had she spent in trying to win them to the right! How had she nerved her feeble strength to force them from their crooked paths I Iniquity stalked triumphant through the long, dusty aisles. It seemed useless to fight with the giant. She would fain have given up the battle. But since the advent of Eunice a quietness brooded over the school, and the teacher thought she saw a shade of softness on many hard faces, as they turned towards the little fig. ure with its gleaming eyes, and the ging¬ ham frock Hutlering about it like the I wingi of a bird when it is ready to fly She knew that she would come to her when the soft wind sighed over the world; when tho moonlight lay on her carpet; when a star shone through the mist; when a leaf floated doubtfully into the gr.i6s; when a breath just stirred the water, or- when some bird let fall a trembling note of sweet sadness. She felt again the un¬ resolved doubt if she was a flesh and blood child, or a spiritual picture to which good angels had opened her eyes. But if this blessing which she named Eunice had no material form, but was a symbolical vision which imagination made real—or if in a child like others, she had by an instinct truer than common, dis¬ cerned the capacity for good with which we are each in some measure endowed; had she not beentenderly taught of heaven that purity and beauty still have a place in the world, that a glimpse of heaven in hCp heart would react upon the.souls of. oth¬ ers; that on the perilous journey of life beside its many pitfalls, in the darkest', wildest nights, angels from heaven's mer. cy-seat stand to guide tho traveller ; that desolate homes and stricken hearts, faith crowns with a halo of bliss, holier far than the happiness which lies buried in the past. Th© teacher turned her face cheerfully towards the factory-school where her share of tbe world's labor lay. . Hereafter she knew that cramped forms aud distorted faces would bo to her but accidents of birth, for she had learned that in spirit each one, however outwardly repulsivci was akin to the Little Stranger.—Arthur^a Home Magazine. lESAL, LEGAL NOTICES. ADMINIBTEATOR'S NOTICB. Estate of Christian Baohtel, lata of East Co- calico township, deceased- LETTEhS of Administration on said SdU)e h&Ttog Wen gr.at«J to the underBigaad all p.raoDB indsbtad thereto are reqnoBteii to make im¬ mediate autt'.iueat, and thoai ha-lo;; cUlma or de¬ mands against the same will pmoot Ibam wltlioiitda lay /or Btfttlament to the aoderRlgnad. residing in EpbraU township, DiVID STKINMKTZ, may 20 6La25 AdminiBlrator. ADMINISTRATOR'S NOTICE. Estate of Adam S. Brabaker late of Strasbarg twp., deesased. LETTERS of Adminiiitration on said estate havinf been granted to the noderslgaed, ail persona ladtrbted thereto ars rsqassted lomaltn Inimcdi. ate settUmsnt, and those having claims or demands against the hsme will present them ^vlthoQt dplay for settismeDt to the nndersigued, residing in ssid tirp, B. IIO.tK, may 24 6t*37 Administrator, HOTICB. Assigned Sstate of Benj. Harblsh (miller) & wife of Peqaea twp., Iiuncaster county. ^pUB said Benjamin IIarni.sh and wife 1 by needcf .^SBlgamentot thelOlh or May, 1965, assigntdalitheirestats. resl andpeisonai to the an- darsignod in trnat for Iholwneflt of his creditor.^ They tberafore request alt persons knowing themselves in¬ debted to said assignor to mahe payment to thennder- sigoed, or rlthsr ofthem, without delay, and all per¬ sons having olaims or di-mandj ssaioet said Afaijtnor are reqnested to present the same dnty antheotic^ted to tho nndorslgued. LancaMar, PAMDKL U%?i, May 21, ifSj. I). W. HAKNISH, 6t--7 AsFl-^neos, residing in West Lampeter twp. ADjnNfSTEATOR'S NOTICB. Estate of Jacob Stively, lata of Froridence township, deo'd, L.ETT'SRS of Administration on said estate having been granted to the nodersignsd, 11 persons indebted thereto are reqiio-ted to maitt- im- m*<dtat« se-tlement, and Chose luring claims or demands against the same will present tbam without delay for settiement to the undersigned, PRBDKBICK !-TITKr,y, Oolorain, JOnS SI. SHEKK, Providence, my 3 6L* 21 Administrators. AUDITOR'S NOTICU. Estate of Bivid Cockley, late of Xan^astor City, deceased. THE undersigned Auditor, appointed to diatrihate the l}:iianceri.m»lafog in the bands ot the administrators of said Kstate, to and among thoi-B legally entitled to the snm^, will sU for that por- poteoQ Thnreday, t„e Sib day of .[un>4. 1663, at 2 o'ciocic, r, M , in tbe Library Koim of tbe Court House, in the city of Lancaster wbaro all parsons Intcreeted in said distribution may atlasd, CVNIEt. a, BAKEB. mayl3 4i-Sfi Anditor. ADMINISTRATOR'S NOTICE, Estate of Jacob Boeser, late of Salisbury township, deceased, LETTERS of Administration on said e-tate having beo-) granted to tbe undersigned, all peraoos iodebted thereto are reqaeatad to make im¬ mediate settiamant, and tbcei having claims or de- mande against tbe same will prassnt them without delay for seltlement to the un<lr-rsign«d, residing in saidtowosiip, JOaa KfcStKU, Sr, may 6 6i*.'4 Adminletrator. ADMINISTRATitR'S NOTICB. Estate of Nancy Baer, late of East Cocalico townsliip, dec'd. LETTERS of adininittraiion on eaid eitalehsviog been granted to tb« undersigned, alt parsons indebted there oara rtque.'led to mnke im- mediato settlemeut, and those ba^lRg cisiiiis or do- mauda sgalnst tbe same will pr-4.«sot them without deii-y for settlement to the undersigned, resldlog in said lowa-hlp AUAM K. iSOVEK. apl 2'i St* 23 Administrator, Adams, come and see my cows," said Morning and night she flitted noiselessly Grandfather, as he gathered up the reins, in and out; and as the te'aoher often; thies for a groaning nation in mortal j ble lor want of a good manager, the fore- struggle, 1 should go for aid, for pity, or man was a rogue, and the business failing the relief of kindred feeling, to thoa© I: fast, and she wanted George and Dely had seen touched with quick tenderness , theia; evidently, she had npt board, when for the lower creation,—who remember the letter beijan, of George's depsrturftor that the "whole o.eation travaileth in baby's birth; but th© laltertihalt said, pain together," and who learn God's own j "Ciim; anyway.: ;I want to. see the Baby; 1 oowrbarn good, enoagh for a Eepresenta-' consciousness of a working-day world, lesson of caring for th© fallen sparrow, Im© an old critur, a sinking into my graiv,' tive to set in, an' clean water, an' chains'. " Is it a fairy that the unbending ri " You may be sure I won't sell Biddy to anybody but you." Dely smiled from the steps where sho stood ; and we drove away—Atlantic Jffonth- 'y- ^ THE LITTIE STRANGE E. On a monday morning the school chil¬ dren of a busy factory town, rendered by their days of freedom doubly boisterous and unruly, hooted and crowded about the solid and battered doors of the great three-story building devoted to their use. No one save a teacher by profession, would have passed undaunted through the turbulent throng. But when the village bell rang nine, they were, with such order as might be, marshelled to their respective seats;. and only winks and rautlerings indicated the halfstifled rebellion. Just at this time a tap on the door called the teacher aside, and a wan man, young in years but evi¬ dently old in labor, with a solemn smile, presented a little girl whose small finger' clung tremulously to his own. With an allusion to the responsibility of those who instruct tho young, the pale man bowed slowly and extricating his hand from tho twining fingers, with a weary stop diaap. peaied behind th© high fence. The Utile one left thus lonely, stood poisedmidway betwen the ante-room door and the teacher's desk gazing at themote- •ly crowd. ¦ A cutting wind had swept the March clouds from the sky. Tho sun shone piercingly in through the high windows, making last Friday's truants shrink blink¬ ing away as before an all-searching eye.— The trodden paths and sere grass in th© yard were damp with th© hoar-frost of the night. A pine wood fire snapped in the rusty, square stove, and fifty heavy boots raised a cloud of dust from the half swept floor. The well-marked register lay open on tba desk, and tho work of tho week was awaiting its commencement. Surely there was no enchantment in all this. I was a keenly matter-of-fact morning, and a stern practical task looked inexorably in the teacher's face. There seemed littl© in the village that day to tak© the thoughts away from earth and earthly la¬ bor. The tall red chimney's puffed forth 1 their dingy smoke. Th© water leaped hurriedly over the dam- Th© iron ham¬ mers thundered, and the belts anti vrheelg whirred and clattered- The confused din of machinery penatratod the school-room, and half the children there were defaced with factory .grime. But as th© teacher looked at the little stranger standing wonderingly on the floOf the necessity of exertion grew faint in her mind, and all these surrounding faded thought, her presence was more a feeling: than a reality, for she could never be quite sure that she saw her. Weeks passed by; the trees were full of blossoms and tha air heavy with perfume Tho gentle influence still lingered, and the intangible Eunice seemed to the teacher part of the air that she breathed. One mild morning in the first of June when tha white and rosy petals were sail, ing downward, a feeling of disappoint¬ ment and longing seemed to pervade the school, for Eunice was not there. At twelve o'clock a factory bell clanged from each black tower, and the sweating ope¬ ratives poured from the double doors. In the close school-room a straggling class was droning the addition table. Du. ring ft pause in this varied noise, the sharp peal of tha bell on the Methodist chapel sent a sympathetic throb of sorrow through the uneasy ranks of pupils. Had the little stranger—forstranger she alivays was in this world—gone to her home at last ? Wjts the fair brow, which doubt and grief so often shadowed, clear and calm forever? Were the eyes whi«h flickered with surprise and uncomprehended pain, then shining with a steady light? Sad¬ ness that day breathed from the blossom, ing earth, and from tho mild blue sky above. While the teacher ata her dinner at the boarding-housolabla, she heard her neigh¬ bors talking of a young minister with ex. traordinary talents and an unusual desire to do good, who would soon "work himself into tho grave. His wife died of consump¬ tion but a short time befere and left him with one little girl—" a pale, thin crea. ture," they said, " who had just diod, as was to be e.xpected of a delicate child with only a fanatical clergyman to take care of her." They were poor, and the little girl who was an odd child, accomplished as much for others in h©r quiet way, as her father did by bis noisy preaching, persuaded him to live in a damp kitchen with an old woman whose husband was killed by a machine in tha factory; because they ciould cheer her loneliness, and also swell the scanty pittance which she earned' as seamstress. Could it ba Eunice Worth and her father—and was this the way that the world thought of them ? Th© teacher did not know. In the afternoon she walked beyond tho uncongenial bustle of the town, among thick woods and green fields. She was released from confinement, and tho sweet summer day whispered peace to her ach. ing brow and hfeavy heart; She sat down on a stone by the road-side; under th© sheltering wall, a pale blue hare-bell Into dim distance. She saw the moon swayed in the breeze. Tha teacher gave amongpasaingclouds, and watcheditsfiit- a sudden start as her eye fell upon it; aha Well.'aaysl,.'!.'!! takehar down to I tingradiance. It was as if a strange writ-1 had o vague idea that some lost treasure Squire HjoUisfs.in, Avondale; ha 's got.aj ing bad appeared on the wall, andlost all was recovered, and as she bent lovingly ADMINISTRATOR'S NOTICB. I Estate of Jacob Brabal;er, late of East Coeali' I CO township, deceased. I f" ETTERS of Administration on said J_i'>ntate having bsen granted to thenndetsigned, ail peiaoos Indeht-jd theri^to are rsqussted to make I'li- madiute settlemsnt, and tho.-a having oiaiine or de¬ mands agaiSBt ibesame will pr-sent tbam without de¬ lay fjr HOttieinaot to the undersigned, raiiding in said to" nshlp. ADAM K. ItOTElt, Admlnltlrator, , aprll 19-33.Gt» ADM1NISTR,\T0RS' NOTICK. Estate of John C. 6kUes, late of Lancaster City, deceased. ITTERS of administration on said eetate having been granted to tbe undersigned, all p-rsona indebted thereto are reqnested to mattt imms- diata settlement, an.l those having ciaima or demands against tba same will present tbem without delay for settl-ment to tbe nadsrslgned. residing in said clly. aplietjt23 JUIIN D-^KILI¦:3. Admlni"tr.iter. Jeeti EXECaTOR'S NOTICE. £state of Christopher Bavis, late of Colerain township, deceased. LETTERS testamentary ou said estate batriDg b*en grAijt«<l to tbs oDd&rsl;:ned, aJ) p«iBOBsliidflbt«d th«ratoiita reqnaetvd to m&ka Imme dlata psymest, aud thono harlag clatmn or damaQds jti^alTifit tbe nan* will prepent tbam for aettlHintint to tba oiid»rrfIgoed. WM 8 MiBTlN" of Coleraioa t*p-, JOHN MclOWAN.of fi«d<bnry \•v^^. f.pr26-6i"iJ Executorj. ADaiNrSTRATOa-S NOTICE. Estate of Samuel BeipU', late of Dtumore township, deceased. LETTKKS of Admiuistration having bca granted to tha uadflrHlgns't. all pemocs In¬ debted tbareto ara rf qQa.«ttrd to maVa Immf^diato att- tlm«nt, sod thosH bavlogcUInn or dam adu afcMiatt tbaFama will preBcnt ihem without da lay for j-atlle mi'iit to th^ aodeiatgnad, rasldlng In raid lyWDahlp. apl-JG tiL» £i JOHN SKlfl-B, JdmlKtrator. ADMINISTRATOR'S NOTICE. Zstate of GenBBmer, late of Warwick town¬ ship, Lancaster oo , Whealwriglii, iec'd. _ LETTEJIS of administration on said aetata haTioK baflii ffraalad to tb.; oodaralgned, all p..rHon8 liid*btc-l ther>tl'> ara re-iaestod lo make Im- medlata Hettlfinflnt, and tbose hiiviog eUims nr d»- mands agalnFt thn aama. wiU praient tham without daUv f>>r ncttl«tn«(it Co tbe Daderiigned. my SOL" 21 SAMOEfj Q.aBSSEnBK, AdmnUtrHlor AUDITOR'S NOTICB. A» igncd Ektate of Jacob llnb=r ic Wife. T'^HUi undersigued Auditor, appointed J to dlstributa th^ balauca ramalalng In tho hamls of John J. Good. Aaiignre of S^rah Huber k wlfa nndar dsjd 0f70luiitar7aiislgDm«nc far tbtf bpDGflt ot eredi- toiB, tn and amoDS ibnaa legally eatUled toiht! fama. will atlaiid for that parpase on Tbnrf d-y, thu Sih day ofJane.A. D.ise.^ Rt 2 o'clock, P. M.. in tha Library Ko-»mof the Gfurt Uoa>a. In tbe OUy d LanoaHi^r, wbariT KllperBouB lotitTeited in said dialrlbn'-joa ma> attt-nd. L.U.EsilLEMA.N. 4t. I.aDcaEler, Mn; 17,1S6;>. Anditor. AUDITOR'S NOTICE. Estate of Elizabeth Ooofiman, late of Coneu- toga twp., deceasGd, XIIE undersigned Auditor appointed to dlstrlbnte tha b.»lanpe remaining I" '"« ^*-^^^ .meal Kaokln, Sr, Admlulnlrator oi »*'<! dflra*«ed, to and among th<'«« lagalty entltlnd la ^"'J'^J" '/'.V'?'/* will ait for tb&t pnrpofo on Frld%r. Jo"'^ ^tb, «t th*" "- fideno^ of tbe cob^crlber In Cod-^'ok^ F1°'"5/,,,Z "•clock, A. Ms. wh^n. all person* '".tj"'**.?„ ? f» trlbatton may attaad. may l7-4t»26 towards Jthe frail flower, Eunice was in her mind ;.03,( Atlas .Sup, for Divorce io ApfilTerm, 1E66, No. 19, KLICD.^IKIN'Od, vs LomaA ccMMi ATOTICK— LOUISA CUM MINGS, 1\] Yon ira herabT cnmmandad to be and appaai In ^iir orop-r r«»"on Wora onr Jndgat at tincantar, at tb*rnnnty Conrt orcommon Pleaa. to behald en iba THIBD M-JKDAT op AnaOaT. A. D.. 1£66, at 10 o'clock. '^' **.. to show cause, if any you haTa, why tha said >.Ll CcHMiHaB. iball not ba divoio-sd from the boaia of matrimony contracted wltb yt-a. May 13-4t-25. P. SMI fH, Bbeilff. CATHABIHS LIMTHUEST, Allaa Bnp for Divorce lo April Tprm, 1865, No. 67. JAHE9LINTHURST, NOTICE-* JAMES LINTHUKST, Yoa or* haraby aoomanded to be and appear In your proper perfon before our Judgea at Lane latcr,- at tha Coaatj Conzt of Common P.1e*i, to be held oo tbe THIRD M0H6AY OP AUOnST, A. D., ISM. at 1* o'clock, A K., to ahow oauaa, If any yon baye. why theaaldCATHAWaHLiHTauBST. Eball not be diturccd from th"bond8 of matrimony eoBlrieted with too. Hty lUt-ae. ». SMITff, Kheriff. BEGISTEB'S NOTICE. THE accounts of tho rcapecttve deeu- dents herenoto annexed, aru filed la tbH riagia- ter'sOfBcaofLaucaatarcoaatT* for conHriQAiiou .ind atloVrance, at an Orphans* Coart to be hirld in ttix "Court Uowf In the City of LaocaslHf, on the TlUllli MOHDAVIN JOHK, ^Sth,) at 10 o'cloelt. A. M. AmoB 0. Wilson, Admlaiatrator of Jobn [[. Andrt-TT. Henry Uayer, AdmluUtralor of Barbara Oiah. Peter BrSbsker, foardlan of Sonaana Utaulf<}r. Hanry H. Kurtz, troatKU of Catharine Blnk. Thomas GrolF and John Myar.", arecotoia of Ileary Groff. Bmannel Cassel, guardian of Abraham Fensterma- char. «?v^'*, ^^^ »°^ Darid 3. Zimmerman, oxeentor.a nf MlchaflWebirr. Hanry MaH?oy, adtninimramr of John Hbmpv. uayidHarniah, gaardiaa of Udrla BshUmm. • w^Vlilt.^ *^f"' C'Jmialslratnr of Philip ShReffar, whowaagnardlanofflniianasOood H.Tarian Millar, aJmlnlitrator of MaryC. Hlll'r. BabecciMonre. admlniatr^trlx of Jog..ph "W. Moore o'o^^SZV. "' "''"' "¦ ^^'"«' ^^SinUtrator of Llodlt-y King, admlolslTator ofTboman Klnit Dr. J. U. Maaaer, guardian of Benjsmln W^Kv-r. Lerl K. Brown, oae of th? ezecutora of J-remlah Brown, LotI K. Brown, one of the AdmlnlBtrators of Edwin £. Brown. Barbara Holmes, aimlniatiatrlx of S. C. nolmen. Jacob h. Landia, executor of Bt^njamln t. Landlx. John H. Sheuk, guardian of Birbnra Ann Hookey* Mftry Q. Otoff, and Marls II. Qroff. DaTld BaTtar. guardian of Henry H. Wltmar. Daniel U'rr, guardian of Susan it. Mowrcr. Jacob Uelman.fxaitutor of Jacob Helmat). William Mentzer, executor of Samuel Hoover. Jobu Millar, administrator de boals non cum testX' mantoanniixo of Peter Miller. . Emanuel Mitchell,-administrator of Jared BIgby. Chrlatiaa Zssher, executor of Maxy Mylln. BarnhuY<i llfann, (farmerj gutrdtaa of Milton KMnd. Cycna MesBaeraud Jacob Hauder, executors of Chrle- tianScboeder. Kllaa Uinkley and Peter IlArtln?, eiacutors of Polar Il&rting. Cyrn« Beam, executor of Dr. Ulchard Ecaa. Cyrua Beam, admlnifilrator of John Landl*. Cyrua Bi^ajo, adiuiniatrator of HaDaah WoJahoiJ O-orge Kiahia, executor of MatlU* Ko7sr. L-Ti I'ownnll.exacatorof nacnih E. IlaadarBon. Cbriitlsa Mlailey. gasrdlan of Dirbara Witmar. Uanlal a. Bare, BurriTin? exirnlnr cf John Uaro. laaao L.Sioner, adraicisttatcrof Danial FCeller. K, A. Kraaa, adrotnl.-itrator of Oto. 0. Westenberner. John LandiH. admlnlatrator of John M. Ebtfru ile." i^a»an».t L, B&Imerand John Ni.'Id'.'.iirid^o, aJminlF.- tratois of Gabriel ilalmar. ^Ud-inna L. Ualmer, admiolatratrj^c cf Dsra Baluier. EH Ituttor, Admi^iKtratot of Anna L. i:Qtrer. Andrew Itiikley. guardian of .M.-iry drear. Suaan Greer and Martha Greer, minora, and Adam ana Jos. Greer, nowof aga. John Long, executor of Hobt. L^cg. John Ma»«Br, gna-dian ofCath^riue anil Dan. P^cic. Geirge Whitaon, admlnlt-trator of M»rcer WhKsor. AdAu Weagi-r, itdmiaiRtrator orCbrl»U>n Weagar. Joaatban B. Untt«r, admlalstratnr of Esther Hant. Joslas D. Good. exi,-cutorof Jarb Gardner, Christian W. Eby, ndmlolttrator of Geo. Fradirick. Jonaph Haloes, execntor of Jo>iah Lnmborn. Cbrldlan M. Martin and tltrarj AckT, Fxt^ulore of Ja«ib Acker. Hugh M, Maxirell, adminlatrator ofKobert Uaxtrell. Mania Kautfman and Jacob l. KtuCTmaa, adminis¬ trators of,'John Kan&hiati, dtic'd, who was trnatto of LewtB J. OulburtBOn. BecJ. ShteiTerjEU-irdian of minor children of Dinlel Bick. Httnjamln Lead, almlaiatr^ttorof John Lovg, Sr. Johu Smith, admlnibtrator, with will annexed, of Mary MiU-;r. John F. Bmlth, admluL^trator of llenr; Smlth- Joha V. Bmlth, trnsleaof Mary Sm^lh. HanryBby, guardian of Htnry iloeaer and John Mflaser. Heury Unbli^, Jr, and John Ifawhansor, cxacutore of Sanmel ^tolizin?. Jac3b Bowdfln and Henry Bownftn, executors of Hfiary BoKman. Wm, An^. AtJfio, admlalfitrator of Wm. L. Bilchie. do do administrator of Clarissa A. Itltahia- Davtd B. Landis, axectitor of Joba H. Oveibollzar. Jacob Wt'&ber, administrator of Henry Pcller. Jacob H. Bbodds, Admtninlrator of John Wllliamr. John M. Grider. administrator of Henry Stelnmats. Htinry Oantz. adminlEtriitor of Hanry Wtparer. Jobn M. Gr.der, administrator of Henry llel??. K iilidm UeoJer, a'lmiaiatrator of Jobn U. Parmer. Pe'S!* JoboB. t;nardlan of Levi L tCreldar. Ahner Peoptiu aad Hiram People.*, cx-icutors of John Te^plea. i'ranciB W. Cbriat, aOmlnlfitratT of Joseph Nixos. ChrUtian Soli aad Chrlat'fta UUstzad, executors of Jonas Kolt Joha K. Smith, ex- cttor of Nicholas Cnuklin. Cbriatiaa Kolt, AdminiKtrator > f Anna Nolt. Jauie-i A. Pattarsoo, (-x3cn:or of Wm. McBrldp. Abraham !i. Breai'xaa, Attorui;y In las; of .Mzry L. Braat-man, a-fmlofHtrator o(naf.nan L. llreo(-Q»Q. U=rardu' CUrkfou, gc-<rdi'*u of ESIiabathMflrfart- John B UTingslon, execiitorof Hi-nryC Prlntz. John B. lirlngston, axocntor o; Ecgaoia B. Bls'A- ham. Henry ?hanb and Gi o. TV. Hensif, exeeuJorE of Jizcob Sbaub. Jame<i L. Prgao and Andre? A VegMi, aJmlulutra- tor«ofO-o. M, Kimlow, Tohn M, Ordid-r, cxacntorof John Mouk. Pamuel Wolf, adu.lnlstr»lor cf Dan'.al Boyer. Jacob Lantz, Edmlslitrator of Jobn Jacob tV'lal. Jam« H. 1'oga.a. adTilnis ratnr of Ann Bradhnrat. John Kirk, i-urTlvingt-xocutor of Joiiathin Hamilton. Peter Etauffar and PhlUp Boyer, aimlnUtralarj of Benban S.. Bo/er. D-iTid N- [..acdifl, admtaiflttator of Mary Landis. Daniel Martin, gn-irdiaa of Knos mautrir. Ji-hn BurkwjJter, admla'atrator of Magdaleaa W«ber. Michael Moire, sDrvlTlng i-xecator of John noffmaa. Heary Eberle, goardian nf John anl Geo. HahQl«n. Jobn MxaiDggr, udmlalbtrutor of Atrabam Hifhiaser John J. Good aud Daniel D. Good, admloldtratote cf Daniel Good. Sr. Ambrose Puwnall, gaardian of Uuth E. C. DIcklnaoa, Ramu^t S. Dickicaon, Heury C. Utckinu^-n, and BdgAf P. UlcklDSon. Chri-4tian Oapt, a 'mluUttator of Abraham Cole. Jobn M. Haybarger, adminlstralor of Wm. B. f-mith. Cyrus Simmons, ndrntnlexrator of SAonah Simmons. John Wannur, hdminii-trstor of D^if id Wacncr. Jicub n. (ifjtz, gcjrdmii of Dora C. Binkiey- Hannali M. Smoker, administratrix of Samufl D. Smpk^r. Bcnj. Bitter and Jobn Ktiynar, e:tecutor of John Noll. John B-iuder aud Koioia Red-^x ext-cntor of Isaac B,inder. Wm.S. Pryand S>>lom')n 3. Fry, admtulatratorB of Isaac Fry, Jicob L. Uautsparger; administrator, d. b. n. t, U fi. cf Jacob Kcgle. Peter Ue lot, exceptor c[ Catharine Heller. Kdw ird H. Bryar*, ti ofteo of John PeterK. Amelia P. McSparrun and Jamex McSpirreu, admiU' Istratora of Cfariatiaa Uanskbatu'.:, -Aho va^ su<^rdiaB of Elizabeth Wengnr. Jacob StolUroaaadD^yitl Dailer, exacn'or of Jacob Lapp. John H. Bcuahberger and Peter Qr-tb;ll, adralnlatra- tors of Chrlatiaa Haaahbeiger Abraham GruiT aad John BrAckUll executors cf John GrvlT Juaeph Bayers, admialatrator of Henry Iv, Brene* mau. BodJ. Iliirahey, BurTivlBg truRlee, and David Her- pheyasd Beary E. Brubaktjr, c^xectttors of Christian Haiabpy, decaxFed, who w.ta oae of t=e tmateGii of John LuhEU-tn and Ann Lehman, Andrew Brabakur, executor of John Landis, Jacob Bnehong, admlnlatrator of John B. Jahu?on John Bolfjiau and Go. rga Huffman, administrators cf John Hoffman. John ti. MdlliaEe^tru-^tati of Jarob Hemhey. Araoa Groff, admlni^trltor nf John Mlil«r. Ezra Wibalcr, guardiaaof MUei Seibert and Mary 5. Etflhert. Michael G-)chenP«er a::d Oao:go Weilar, cdmUietra- tOTB of David Gochaaau'r. John HAStiiig.admiuistratorof ElijihT. Toralinaru Jlaraburd SUim, txecaior of Chrlhttao yixj^r. Ana M. ^h'rihy nud Jacob L. Bshltiiu;i&, exveutora of Abraham Shelby, Wm. B WilHy, Adminltftrator cf Charlon Wihtou- Gideon Fisher, suivi%*in;i t-xrcntor of Br-nj. Klag, christian .^arlfn,aifmlaiatrntor of Barbara Pfiutz. Pdtrr Krry, exucatcr of Aathony Shrack. BeoJ.Myer, admintetralorof Stjlomon Myer, BoB^inua Ct^Qtir.aimlnl^trittilxo- CatbarinuSmith. Adam BoTizfleld, •'Xoaatcr of Jnob Stouter. John E. C<iIltC8 and Wm. A. Miriia, tx^cators of Jsmea Collins. Johu S:rohm, admliilati-ator of Jonf^h Hei-ler. Joha Strohm,exQcnt>ir of John L Kll^y Canpar Uil'ar, admluisrr-itor of Jobn hliUr. ^atldu^s .Mc :ul]oUKb, cnurdinn of £iir.d>rrM Maxwell. BeubeQ H- Eby and John H. Eby, adml&}<>trators of John Eby. Jacob Buck. a-'mlalatratorufD^siel Brnner. Harriett E StiU, adaiiiiletrator of Bcv. Lawla L f^tlU. LVtar tlerr, Kolumoo Bsrr. Abr.ihaai Uerr and hen¬ ry Herri^xccntoraof Abmhtm Hvrr. Isaac Bair. i-s<-entor of Jitoob t^harp, Ooorgu BoglH,i-x--rntar otNtfiiOn i'uttrn. Bamual U. Itryaoldt. adulalatrator at Oen. John P. Beynol'Jc. Cirp?nter McCIeary and Henry C. Loeher, exeoutora ot Mary B.D;*nB*r. Garoentar UcC:*ry, g^urdlau or?.irah E. Danucr. Jaiob Z chur, t-xo;n£ur of Slary JJ, '.'ulhart. William M'Cload an-i Christian Myers, executors cf Jcliii McClou-J Jacob Kempar, troslee nf Eamnel Prey. Peter Brnbuker, eiacnior of lUuiy Werner. David HeTthrty nnd Henry K. Brubdlrer, tSL-cntorH of ObriKtIan Hethhey, John Musai-r, esfc jtorof Geo W Turry. U n.&C. l),Mnbt.B admlalKtrelor t-f J, U, Stubbs, irbo wait L:ntrd)au o<' Sai.ih E Jnaaf. U A. Wade, oao ofth» rtfcutora of AudreW Wade, UrUh B.i»^r,fX-col"rr.f Jacob Crt-ve. ChrUtlan F ^wnrr and John Swarr, admlnlstratcrs of ChrlsiUit f'w«ir. Anu C. Gmiiidur, administratrix ot Charles W, Giiil der. Jact'b II. F.faoadf-, exoeutor of Ellzthetb Iloorer, Jsi-ob >.ntz.tiid Ji/hn B.O-cklev, rnrvlving Hdniiai'^- trKlesand. JnUa V. Luti ai;d Adam Li. Luiz, axt'cntors (•f Adam I.ntz, dec'd, who wa!> one of tbe admiulatia- toraof Ufury l.ntx Mary .Sliill aud Hanry 3..Vufiier, admlntVtratcrs ot Henry 6hill. Jaci'b Pfautz and D^tld Vt'aniz, ix cutora of Jafob Pfan'i. C. L. Hoffm:i:i and Juhu C. Jl^tin, exajtors Of Sam'l Yci^aa. Henry K I.tm-in, Adm'nlptrator t f Hdwln B. W**bb. Lydla T. Wolumia, admlnlelratrixof Martin W.-id- man. David Barlhnloinaw, admluistrBtor of Mttbew B.ir- thulcmaw. Jamea Evan», Admlnietrst ir rf .Inthonr B.>hnoa. Oliver a>trobl. admlal^trMor of All»n Strohl. Daiilel Overhclz t, execn'c r of Kf'lii-r Ovarnnlj»r. Ella? H- EherJy and Jaciib B. Kmbakor, admlulatfa- torsof EHitbath tb,irly. t^amualKbcrly,adml«iatratorofJartinltaer Oicrgi. Widland «nd£ni.ht;tb Afltitoy.admiclatra- tora of Jacob NV^Iey. , - , , , Iiarld li. Kroldor «i'd J^ieob Lefcrar, exflcntora of Ahmhum Kri'Itlor. J AnrSfi''''".l»'»Sa3rdianofMirgaretA Brubakflr. AnJrtfw J-If*Bfmaa, administrator of John Kcefy. jdcnfa U, Orfder, gnardfan of Bmmt P. Will, Ui-iJ- Lehman, tfuardlaa of Abraham L<«amnn aad latt* cnardiau «i Lydla And Lcaman. da-.*d. Abraham S. Lindlp, administrator of Lydla Ann Lea- Joba Greider and Ulebnel Hortt, guardian of minor chil'ireD of Johu U. Herat. iM^rgutitB. McGianu and JoLn JLIoGrsnn, exacntor of M.oxtaalUcQraon. Daniel Buikhold<rr, txemtorof CbristLin Burkl older Jacob N, Ueiz^^er, administrator of Abraham H. Mefzgrr. Jobn Henley and MLha-sl Haolay, executor of tfl- chat-l Heiilay. Jobn Kelso acd Joslah Snkvely, adslal^lrator of Wm. Kelao. Christian L. Enuseckor, administrator of Jacob B- Kln?. P G. Kl'ermsr, exacntorof Joha 0»o. Miller. j4cohStormreltz,!>n.v;rlagtiicc:or of Goo. KraUE- knp- John Herr, aurrivlng axecutor of John Herr. Dr. Ilearp CarpL-nter. exf cntor of Dr. 8am*l Humea. Ena«n Ettblarmn, idmiulutralrlx of John Bihleman. John a. Brown, administrator of Eilzibfth Brow/i, C. L. Ilunaecker, gntrdlao of Heary C. Kling. John Dreppera aad David Klltiager, ^xecaIo^oTJohn Dreppetd, ,, ,. /, l Hecry ghrelnor, admialatrator of Joseph Crube. BarahLong aai Benj. Long, Jr., admin let rstcra ot ^"chrUtian Eurfz. 5dmiBl.-lrator of Henry Kartz. Jahn Dreppard and David Hliliatf^r.exjoatcr ot JnO Dri-pperd, who waa . recutrr of .Marag«i W ILon. JoboV. Laadla and Abraham F. Landla, ax.eutor • ^n!.rri"B!^'.an^BdmInUtratrlX of SlUot B. Lar Ellnbalh Wj'.lc, admli.lfctrix of l>avid T\ylle.A- Johfl LBloner and D»vl*fl.3toner, executor^ ^ ^Daniel Forduf y, admiaistrator of EllzabotHOey. HOTICB- WHEREAS, my wife Fanny hna left m« wlthont canas. this la to notiry aU parsons that IWIU not ha rasponalUe for "ny dfbu eontrMted T,. tier JACOB H, Knaiz, m« IWl'M Iphiala twp.. Lib. cd. ( I>3n'lFordneyBOrsiviniisxecntorofl'hil« . Bool, 0. OcH, admlnlatrator of Ooo. OKf""'"- Nolsna Williams Klminlstralor of SsmL*'""- Bsg'Blor Offlc, laneasur, r*. ^^ j, n. QTBATHMORB, or V°*" «ui„ J^ Oisn Hand, a lif > llomance bp Book t*... of^aruiTlliod.Tign«."at »«MM. J. W WBaTUAKFJ^
Object Description
Title | Lancaster Examiner and Herald |
Masthead | Lancaster Examiner and Herald |
Volume | 39 |
Issue | 28 |
Subject | Newspapers--Pennsylvania--Lancaster County |
Description | The Lancaster Examiner and Herald was published weekly in Lancaster, Pa., during the middle years of the nineteenth century. By digitizing the years 1834-1872, patrons are provided with a view of politics and events of this tumultuous period from a liberal political slant, providing balance to the more conservative perspective of the Intelligencer-Journal, which was recently digitized by Penn State. |
Publisher | Hamersly & Richards |
Place of Publication | Lancaster, Pa. |
Date | 1865-05-31 |
Location Covered | Lancaster County (Pa.) |
Type | Text |
Original Format | Newspapers |
Digital Format | image/tiff |
Language | English |
Rights | http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/NoC-US/1.0/ |
Contact | For information on source and images, contact LancasterHistory, Attn: Library Services, 230 N. President Ave., Lancaster, PA, 17603. Phone: 717-392-4633, ext. 126. Email: research@lancasterhistory.org |
Contributing Institution | LancasterHistory |
Sponsorship | This Digital Object is provided in a collection that is included in POWER Library: Pennsylvania Photos and Documents, which is funded by the Office of Commonwealth Libraries of Pennsylvania/Pennsylvania Department of Education. |
Month | 05 |
Day | 31 |
Year | 1865 |
Description
Title | Lancaster Examiner and Herald |
Masthead | Lancaster Examiner and Herald |
Volume | 39 |
Issue | 28 |
Subject | Newspapers--Pennsylvania--Lancaster County |
Description | The Lancaster Examiner and Herald was published weekly in Lancaster, Pa., during the middle years of the nineteenth century. By digitizing the years 1834-1872, patrons are provided with a view of politics and events of this tumultuous period from a liberal political slant, providing balance to the more conservative perspective of the Intelligencer-Journal, which was recently digitized by Penn State. |
Publisher | Hamersly & Richards |
Place of Publication | Lancaster, Pa. |
Date | 1865-05-31 |
Location Covered | Lancaster County (Pa.) |
Type | Text |
Original Format | Newspapers |
Digital Format | image/tiff |
Digital Specifications | Image was scanned by OCLC at the Preservation Service Center in Bethlehem, PA. Archival Image is a 1-bit bitonal tiff that was scanned from microfilm at 300 dpi. The original file size was 850 kilobytes. |
Language | English |
Rights | http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/NoC-US/1.0/ |
Contact | For information on source and images, contact LancasterHistory, Attn: Library Services, 230 N. President Ave., Lancaster, PA, 17603. Phone: 717-392-4633, ext. 126. Email: research@lancasterhistory.org |
Contributing Institution | LancasterHistory |
Sponsorship | This Digital Object is provided in a collection that is included in POWER Library: Pennsylvania Photos and Documents, which is funded by the Office of Commonwealth Libraries of Pennsylvania/Pennsylvania Department of Education. |
Month | 05 |
Day | 31 |
Year | 1865 |
Page | 1 |
Resource Identifier | 18650531_001.tif |
Full Text |
VOL. XXXIX.
LANCASTER, PA, WEDNfeSDA¥^ MAI31, 1865,
Wi 28.
se
.THIS
Am
> The Examiner and Herald and
^s:ttcR8t(r H^nira^
Is iPablialied ovisrsr SattLrdajr,
AT S2i A YEAR, OR $2 IN ADVANCE.
OFflCS Ko. 32J{ SORTU qVEEK STUSST-
11 immi 1 mTSinb. u j. l iamman,
Edltort an^ Proprietor-. «-AU bTUdncMlotte«,CQfnmuaicatloiis,Ao.,Bhomd
I^ancaiter) Fa.
ADVERTIfll^'^J DKPAHTMBNT. Pi,nKcss ^BTtRTisEKKOTS ty the year. Of fractiODBof a T^rtj^te charged «t the r.te of $12-00 per square oflai licoi. Ten per cent Increwe on the yearly r»t# nr fraotioiiB of a year. „ ,„ „
" Smonthl. 6 months. 12 montt*.
0,e Square « 4-'» * 8.00 «1100
T*o siaarM O-'W 13.00 20.00
Throe SiiOareJ - 12.00 30.00 26.00
PmL ErtATi, PiaaoSAi Propibtt and Gxkirai Abtie-
TtEl^o to bo chaiged at the rata of SetKit cents per -« ]Iat; for the first imtertlon, and Aur centa per line
for nTeryBubsequent Iniertlou. PATcst MKDioixis, BintEa, and all other AnviEini.
kbst,*, by the column, halt third, or quarter colnmp:
I rt)lutnn, vearlT, $100 00 I ^ colttmn, yearlyi $^0 00 U Polamn, yearly, 60 00 | if men dvubt
If more of horror or disgrace they bore;
But thy foul crime, like Cain's, stands darkly out.
Vilo band_ that brandist murder on a stnfe, Vi'bate'crits grounds, stoutly and nobly striven
And with the martyr's crown crowncst a lifo With much to praise, iittic to bo forgiToa t
[London rtnich ]
DEWS COW.
I went down io Hie farm-yard ono day Inst month, nnd ns I opened the gate I heard VaI Kalony say, " Biddy ! Biddy V I thought at first he was calling a hen, hut then I remembered tho hens were nil shut into tho poultry-houso that' day, to he sorted, and numbered, and con* demned : so I looked again, thinking per¬ haps Pat's little lame sister had strayed up from the vilage and gone into the barn after Sylvy'a kittens, or a pigeon*egg, or to see a now calf; but, to my surprise, I saw a red cow, of no particular beauty or breed, coming out of the stable-door, look¬ ing about her as if in search of somebody or something; and when Pat called again, •* Biddy ! Biddy 1 Biddy !" the creature walked up to him across the yard, stretched out her awkward neck, sniffed a little
over, he drank,—not to real drunkenness, and cropped from his-haod the wisp of but enough to m»ke him oroBs and intrao-
and carry on the bakery in a matrimonial partneraliip, Mrs. German said sho " guessed slie would," and announced to Dely on Monday morning that she was going to have a step-father. Dely was astonished and indignant, but to no pur¬ pose. Mrs. German cried and rocked, and rocked and-oriedagsini rather more silently than when her husband died, but for all that she did not retract; and in due time she got into the stage with her elderly lover and went to Meridian, where they got married, and came home next day to carry on the bakery.
Joo German had been foolish enough to leave all his property to his wife, and Dely had no resource but to slay at home and endure her disagreeable position as well as she could, for Tom Kenyon swore and chewed, and smoked beside; more-
¦\ViiiT «-E Love a 'Woii.vs ron —Some one, speaking of a beautiful girl with en¬ thusiasm, said he was almost in love with her, though her understanding was, by no means, brilliaut. "Pooh!" said Go3the, laughing, "as if love had anything to do with understanding! We love a girl for very difi'erent things than understanding. Wo love her for her beauty, her youth, her mirth, her conlidingness, her charac¬ ter, irith its faults, caprices, and heaven knows^what other inexpressible charms; but we do not love her understanding. Her mind v.e esteem (if it is brilliant,)
and it may elevate her
in our opinion .
nay, more, it may enchain us when we already lovo. But her understanding is not that which awakens and inflames our passions.
K Sheriff was once asked to execute a writ against a Quaker. On arriving at iiis house ho saw tho Quaker's wife, who 1 in reply to the inquiry whether her bus. band was at homo, said he was, at tho same time requested him to bo seated and her husband would speedily see him' The officer waited patiently for some time, tho fair Quakeress coming into the room, ho reminded her of her promise that be might see her husband. "Nay, friend, 1 promised thet he would see thee. He has seen thee. lie did not like thy looks; therefore he avoided thee, and hath de¬ parted from the bouse by another path."
The Duke of Wellington once lost his temper with the pragmatical imbecility of one of his colleagues in a certain British administration, so far as to say of that vexatious personage, " ho is intolerable because he is educated beyond the calibre of his brains to bear." The Duke's de¬ scription fits a large class of people whom it is the tendency of modern life to thrust into an unnatural prominence; a class so large as to have wrung from Carlyle the sardonic declaration that " all Christen¬ dom is in conspiracy for the promotion of fools."
rovren hay he held, as composedly as if she were a tame kitten, and then followed him all around the yard for more, which 1 am sorry to say she did not get.' Pat had only displayed her accomplishments to astonish me, and then shut her in her siall again. I afteripard hunted out Bid¬ dy's history, and here it is.
On tho Derby turnpike. Just before you enter Hanerford, everybody that ever travelled that road trill remember Joseph German's bakery. It was a red brick house, with dusty windows toward the street, and just inside the door a little shop, where Mr. German retailed the scal¬ loped cookies, flutted ginger bread, long loaves of bread, and scantly filled pies, in which he dealt, and which were manu¬ factured in tho long shop, where in tho summer you caught glimpses of flour-bar- rela all a-row, and men who might have come out of those barrels, so strewed with flour were all their clothes,—paper-cap and white apron scarcely to be distin¬ guished from the rest of the dress, as far as color and dustiness went. Here, too, •when her father drove out the cart every afternoon, sitting in front of the counter with her sowing or her knitting, Dely Ger¬ man, the baker's pretty daughter, deal out the cakes .ind rattled the pennies in her apron-pocket with so good a grace, that not a young farmer came into Haner¬ ford with grain or potatoes or live stock, who did not cast a glance in at the shop- door, going toward town, and go in on his return, ostensibly to buy a sheet of gin¬ gerbread or a dozen cookies for bis re¬ freshment on the drive homeward. It was a curious thing tosee how much hung¬ rier Ihey were on tho way home than coming into town. Though they might have had a good dinner in Hanerford, that never appeased their appetites en¬ tirely, while in the morning they had driven their slow teams all the way with¬ out so much as thinking of cakes and cheese! So by the time Dely was seven¬ teen, her black eyes and bright cheeks were well known for miles about, and many a youth, going home to the clean kitchen where his old mother sat by the fire knitting, or his spinster sister scolded and scrubbed over his muddy boot-tracks, thought how pretly it would look to see Dely German sitting on the other side, in her neat calico frock and white apron, her black hair shining smooth, and her frcish, bright face looking a welcome.
But Dely did not think about any one of them in a reciprocal manner ; she liked them all pretty well, but she loved nobody except her father and mother, her three oats and all their kittens, the big dog, the old horse, and a wheezy robin that she kept in a caco, because her favorite cat had half killed it one day and it never could fly any more. For all these dumb things she had a really intense affection : as for her father and mother, she seemed to be apart of them ; it never occurred to her that they could leave her, or she them; and when old Joe German died one sum, mer day, just after Dely was seventeen, she was nearly distracted. However, peo_ pie who must work ior their living have to get over their sorrows, practically, much sooner than those who can afford time to indulge them ; and as Dely knew more about the business and the shop than anybody hut tbe foreman, she had to resume her place at the counter before her father had been buried a week. It was a great source of embarrassment to her rural admirers to see Dely in her black frock, pale and sober, when they went in! they did hot know what to say ; they felt as if their hands and feet had grown very big all at once, and as if the cents in their pockets never could be got at, at which they turned red and hot and got choked, and went away swearing internally at their own blundering shyness, and more deep¬ er smitten than ever with Dely, because they wanted to comfort herso very much, and did n't know how !
One, however, had the sense and sim¬ plicity to know how, and that was George Adams, a fine healthy young fellow from Hartland Hollow, who came in at least once a week with a load of produce from tho farm on which he was head man. Tho first time he went after his rations of gin. gerhread, and found Dely in her mourn¬ ing, he held out his hand and shook hers heartily. Dely looked up into his honest blue eyes and saw them full of pity.
'• I'm real sorry.for you I" said George. " My father died two years ago." Dely burst into tcar8,Bnd George couldn't help stroking her bright hair softly and saying, " Oh, don't !" So she wiped her eyes, and sold him the cookies the want¬ ed ; but from that day there was one of Dely's customers that she liked beat, one team of whito horses she always looked out for, and one voice that hurried the color into her face, if it was ever so pale ; and the upshot of pity and produce and gingerbread was that George Adam and Dely German were heartily in loTO with each other, and Dely began to be comfort¬ ed for her father's loss si.x months after he died. Not that she knew why, or that George had ever said anything to her more than was kind and friendly, but she felt a sense of reet, and yet a sweet rtst- lossness, when ho was in her thoughts or presence, that beguiled her grief and made her unintentionally happy; it was tho old, old story; the one eternal novelty that never loses its vitality, its interest, its bewitching power, nor ever will till Time shall be no more.
But the year had not elapsed, devoted to double crape and triple quillings, bo- fore Dely's mother, too, began to be con¬ soled. She was a pleasant, placid, feeble- natured woman, who liked her husband very well, and fretted at him in a mild, persistent way a good deal. He swore and chewed tobacco, which annoyed her * he also kept a tight grip of bis money, which was not pleasant; but she missed him very much when he died, and cried and
table; worse than all, he had a son, the only child of his first marriage, and it soon beoamo unplesantly evident to Daly that Steve Kenyon had a mind to marry her, and his father had a mind he should- Now it is all "^QTy well to marry a per¬ son one likes, but to go through that cer¬ emony with one you dislike is more than anybody has a right to require, in my opinion, as well as Dely's; so when her mother urged upon her the various advantages of the match, Steve Ken¬ yon being the present master and pros¬ pective owner of his father's tavern, a groat resort for horse-jockeys,, cattle- dealers, and frequenters of State and County fairs, Dely still objected to marry him. But the more she objected, the more her mother talked, her step-father swore, and the swaggering lover persisted in his attentions at all times, so that the poor girl had scarce a half-hour to her¬ self. She grew thin and pale and unhap¬ py enough; and one day George Adams, stepping in unexpectedly, found her with her apron to her eyes, crying most bitter¬ ly. It took some persuasion, and some more daring caresses than he had yet ven¬ tured on, to get Dely's secret trouble to light. I am inclined to think fteorge kis. sed her at least once before she would tell him what she was crying about; but Dely naturally came to the conclusion, if he loved her enough to kiss her, and she loved him enough to like it, she might as well share her troubles, and tho conse¬ quences was, George asked her then and there to share his. Not that either of them thought there would be troubles under that copartnership, for the day was sufficient to them ; and it did not daunt Dely in the least to know that George's only possessions were a heifier calf, a sui t of clothes, and twenty dollars.
About a month after this eventful day, Dely went into Ilaneifordon an errand, she said; so did George Adams. They stepped into the minister's together and were married; so Dely's errand was done, and she rode out on the front seat of George's empty wagon, stopping at the bakery to tell her mother and got her trunk ; having chosen a day for her er¬ rand when-her step-father had gone away after a load of flour down to Hanerford wharves. Mrs. Kenyon went at once in¬ to wild hysterics, and called Dely a jade- hopper, and an ungrateful child; but not understanding the opprobrium of the one term, and not deserving the other, the poor girl only criod a little, and helped George with her trunk, which held all she could call her own in the world,—her clothes, two or three cheap trinkets, and a few books. She kissed the oats all round, bugged the dog, was glad her rob¬ in had died, and then said good bye lo her mother, who refused to kiss her, and said George Adams was a snake in the grass. This was too much for Dely ; she wiped her eyes, and clambered over the wagon-wheel, and took her place beside George wilh a smile so much like crying that he began to whistle, and never stop¬ ped for two miles. By that time they were in a piece of thick pine woods, when, look¬ ing both before and behind to be certain no one was coming, he put his arm round his wife and kissed her, which seemed to have a consoling effect; and by the time they reached his mother's little house, Dely was as bright as ever.
A little bit of a house it was to bring a wife to, but it suited Dely. It stood on the edge of a pine wood,' where tho fra¬ grance of the resinous boughs kept the air sweet and pure, and their leaves thrill¬ ed responsive to every breeze. The house was very small and very red, it had two rooms below and one above, but it was neater than many a five-story mansion, and far more cheerful; and when Dely wentinatihe door, she thought there could be no prettier sight than' the ex¬ quisitely neat old woman sitting in her arm-chair on one side of the fireplace, and her beautiful oat on the other, purring and winking, while the tea kettle sang and sputtered over the bright fire of pine- cones, and the tea table at the other side of tho room was spread with such clean linen and such shining crockery that it mado one hungry even to look at the brown bread and butter and pink radish OS that were Dely's wedding-supper-
It is very odd how happy people can be, when they are as poor as poverty, and don't know where to look for their living but to the work of their own hands Genteel poverty is horrible; it is impossi¬ ble for one to be poor, and elegant and comfortable; but downright, simple, un¬ blushing poverty may be the most blessed of states ; and though it was somewhat of a descent in tbe social scale for Dely to marry a farm-hand, foreman though he might be, she loved her George so devout¬ ly and healthily that she was as happy as a woman could be. George's mother, the sweetest and tenderest mother to him, look his wife to a place beside his in her heart, and the two women loved each other the more for this man's sake ; ho was a bond between them, not a division; bard work left them no thought of rank, ling jealousy lo make their lives bitter, and Dely was happier than ever she had thought she should be away from her mother. Nor did tbe hard work hurt her> for she took to her own share all of it that was out of doors and troublesome to the infirmities of the old lady. She tend¬ ed the calf in its little log but, shook down the coarse hay for its bed, made its grue^till it grew beyond gruel, tlicn drove it daily to the paiture where it fed, gave it extra rations of bread and apple-parings and carrot-tops, till the croaturo knew her voice and ran to her call like a pet kitten, rubbing its soft, wat nose against her red cheek, and showing in a dozen blundering, calfish ways that it both knew and loved her.
There are two sorts of people in tbe world,—those who love animals and those
and the ox that tteadeth out tho corn.— With men or women who despise animals andtreat thomasimero beasts and brutes 1 never want to trust my weary heart or my aching head;but with. Dely 1 could have trusted both safely, and the calf and the cat agreed with me. • ¦ So, in this happy, homely life, the sweet centre of her own bright little world, De¬ ly passed the first year of her wedded lifo and then tho war came! Dreadful pivot of almost all our late lives 1 On it also this rude, idol turned. George, enlisted for the war.
It was not in Dely or his mother to stop him. Though tears fell on every round of bis blue socka and sprinkled bis flannel shirts plentifully,^thougb the old wo¬ man's wan and wrinkled face pale and saddened, and the young one's fair throat quivered with choking sobs when they were left alone,—still, whenever George appeared, he was greeted with smiles and cheers, strengthened and sfeadicd from this home armory better than with sabre and bayonet, " with might in tho inner man." George was a brave fellow no doubt, and would do good service to his free country ; -but it is a question with me, whether, when the Lord calls out his " noble army of martyrs" before the uni¬ verse of men* and angels, that army will not be found officered and led by just such women as these, who fought silently with the flesh and th a Devil by their own hearth, quickened by noatinging' excite¬ ment of hattle, no thrill of splendid' strength and fury in soul and body, no tempting delight of honor or even recog¬ nition from their peers,—upheld only by the dull, recurrent necessities of duty and love.
At any rate, George went, and they stayed. The town made them an allow¬ ance as a volunteer's family; they had George's bounty to begin with; and • a friendly boy fromithe farm near by came and sawed their wood, took care of the garden, and when Dely could not go to pasture with tho heifer, drove her to and fro daily._ \
After George had been gone three months, Dely hall a little baby. Tiny and bright as it Iwas, it seemed like a small star fallen down from some upper sky to lighten their darkness. Dely was almost too happy; and the old grand¬ mother, fast slipping into that other world whence baby seemed to have but newly arrived, stayed her feeble steps a little longer to wait upon her son's child. Yet, for all tho baby, Daly never forgot her dumb loves- The cat bad still its place on the foot of her bed; and her first walk was to the barn, where the heifer lowed welcome to her mistress, and rubbed her head against the hand that caressed herj with as much feeling as a cow can sbovv, however ruuch she may lisive. And Biddy, the heifer, was a good friend to that little household, all through that long ensuing winter. It went to Dely's heart to sell h'er .first calf lo the butcher, but they could not .'raise' it, and when it was taken away she threw
and when; george ciinw'.bnck from the irarsi.he must liv hear t^jsatof his life." . Dely's tender ..heart ms ^eally stirred by'tiio letter, yet she w^.undecided what ¦tojdo. Hero she wasAloue and poor.; there would "bo her motlier,—and she lov¬ ed her mother,' thouglftSM;could not re¬ spect her; there, too, was plenty for all; and if George should ever come home, the bakery business was just the thing for him,—he had energy and courage enough to redeem a sinking affair like that. But then what ahould she do with the cow ? Puss could go.home with her; but Biddy t —there was no place for £iddy. Taslure was scarce and. dear about Hanerford; ¦Dely's father had given up keeping a cow long before his death for that reason; but how couid Dely leave and sell her faith¬ ful friend and.compahion ? Her heart sank at the thought; it almost turned thesoalo, for one pitiful moment, against common sense and filial feeling. But baby cough¬ ed,—nothing more than a slight cold, yet
Daly thoug.ht, as she had often thought I bought that cow cheap than I could ha' before, with a quick thrill of terror, What I sold my old gran'ther to a tin-peddler.— if baby were ever sick ? Seven miles be-(Somehow, she was so innocent, an, she twcenherand thenearestdoctor; nobody j was so innocent, an' she felt so to part to send, nobody to leave, baby with, and | with the critter, an, then she let nae she-herself utterly inexperienced in the! know'tGeorge was in the army; an'thinks care of children. The matter was decided I I, I guess I'll help the Gov'ment along at once; and before the driver who brought j some; I can't fight, 'cause I'm subjest to her mother's letter had come, on his next! rheumatiz in my back, but I can look for journey, for the answer lr« had offered to j them that can ; so, take the hull on't, carry, Dely's letter was written, sealed,! long an' broad, why, I up an' gin her sey-
to halter 'em up with, an'a dry yard where the water all drcens off as slick as can bet an' there a'n'l such a piece o' land now- horo round for roolcrops; an' tho Squiro he sets such store by his cows an' things; I 've Ueerd tell bo turned off two Irish¬ men for ahusin' on 'em ; an' they has their bags washed an' their tails combed every day in the year,—an' I don't know but what they lies 'em up with ablew ribbin.''.
"Get out I" growled Grandfather. . " Can't jest yet. Squire, not t'U I've done. Anyway, I figgered it off to her, an' she was kinder consolsd up to thing brj't; for 1 told her I thought likely yoti'd buy. her cow, an' when we come to the tradin' part, why, confound it 1 she wa'n'fno more fit to buy aii' sell a critter, than my three-year-old Hepsy; I said a piece baok I hadn't got much natur,' an' a man that trades dumb beasts the big¬ gest part o' the time hadn't onghter hev; but I swan to man I natur'was too much for roe this time; I couldn't no more ha'
rocked, and said how afflicted she was, as who do not. I have seen them both and
much as was necessary, even in the neigh bor'a opinion. But as timu went on, she. found the business very bard to manage; even with Dely and the foreman to help her, the ledger got all astray, and the day book followed its example; so when old Tom Kenyoa, who kept the tavam half a mile farther out, took to. coming Sun¬ day nights to Bee the " Widder Qermaii,'' and finally proposed to share her troubles
have known both ; and if sick or oppress, ed, or borne down with dreadful sympa-
her check apron over her bead, and buried her face deep in the pillow,. that she might not hear the cries of apealand grief her favorito uttered. • After this, 'Biddy would let no one milk her but her mistress ; and many an inarticulate con¬ fidence passed between the two while tho sharp streams of milk spun and foamed into the pail below, as Dely's skilful hands coaxed it down.
They heard from George often; he was well, and busy with drill and camp life,— not in active service aayet. Incidentally, loo, Dely heard of her mother. Old Kenyon was dead of apoplexy, and Steve like to die of drink. This was a bit of teamster's gossip, but proved to be true. Towards the endlof the winter, old Moth¬ er Adams slept quietly in the Lord. No pain or sickness gasped her, through she knew she was dying, kissed and blessed Dely, sent a mother's message to George, and took the baby for the last time into her arms; then she laid her head on the pillow^, smiled, and drew a long breath,— no more. [
Poor Dely's life was very lonely; she buried her dead put of her sighTl wrote a loving sobbingj letter to George, and began to try to live alone. Hard enough it was ! March | revenged itself on the past toleration of winter; snow fell in blinding fury, and drifts hid tho fences and fenced the doors all through Hart- land Hollow. Day after day Dely strug. gle through theipath to the barn to feed Biddy and milk jher; and a warm mess of bread and milk often formed her only meal in that bitter weather. It is not credible to those who think no more of animals than of chairs and stones how much society and solace they afford to those who do lovo them. Biddy was really Dely's friend. Many a long day passed when no human face but the baby's greeted her from dawn till dusk. But the cow's beauliful purple eyes all ways turned to welcome her as she en¬ tered its shed-door ; her wet muz-zle touch ed Dely's check with a velvet caress; and while her mistress drew irom the downy bag its white and rich stores, Biddy would turn her head round, and eye her with such mild looks, and breathe such fra¬ grance to her, that Dely, in her solitary and friendless state; came to regard her a reai sentient being, capable of love and sym¬ pathy, and had an affection for her that would seem utter nonsense to half, perhaps three quarters, of the people in this un¬ sentimental world. Many a time did the lonely little woman lay her head on Bid¬ dy's neck, and talk to her.about George with sobs and silence interspersed ; and many a piece of dry bread steeped in warm water, or golden carrot, or mess of slewed turnips and bread, flavored the dry hay that was the staple of the cow's diet.— The cat was old now, and objected to the baby so strenuously that Dely regarded her as partly insane from age; and though he was kind to her of course, and fed her faithfully, still a cat that could growl at George's baby was not regarded wilh the same complacent kindness that had al¬ ways blessed fher before; and whenever the baby was asleep at milking-timo. Pus¬ sy was locked into the closet,—a proceed¬ ing she resented. Biddy, on the contrary, seemed to admire the child,—she certain¬ ly did not object to her,—aud necessarily obtained thereby a far higher place in De¬ ly's heart than the cat.
As I have already baid, Dely had beard of her stepfather's death some lime be¬ fore ; and one stormy day, the last week in Mirch, a team coming from Hanerford with grain slopped at the door of the lit¬ tle red bouse, and the driver handed De¬ ly a dirty, illiwritten letter from her mo¬ ther. Just such an epistle it was as might
have been expected from Mrs. Kenyon,
full of weak sorrow, and entreaties to De¬ ly to come home and live ; she was old and tired, the bakery was coming to trou
and put on th© shelf, and she was busy contriving and piecing out a warm hood and cloak forbaby to ride in.
But every time she went to the barn to milk Biddy or feed her, the tears sprang to her eyes, ond her mind misgave her. Never before had the dainty bits of food been so plentiful for her pet, or her neck so tenderly stroked. Dely had written to bar mother that she would come to her' as soon as her affairs were settled, and she had spoken to Orrin Nye, who brought tbe letter, to find a purchaser for her cow. Grandfalrher Hollis, who bought Biddy, and in whose farmyard I made her acquantance, gave me the drover's account of the matter, which will be bet¬ ter in his words than mine. It seems he brought quito a herd of milch cows down to Avondale, which is twenty miles from Hanerfoid, and hearing that Srandfather wanted a couple of cows, became to "trade wilh him," as he expressed it. He had two beautiful Ayrshires in the lot,—clean heads, shining skins, and good milkers, —that mightily pleased the old gentle¬ man's fancy; for he had long brooded over bis favorite scheme of a pure blooded herd, and tho red and white clouded Ayr¬ shires showed beautifully on his green hillside pastures, and were good slock be¬ sides. But Aaron Stov^ insisted so perti¬ naciously that he should buy this red cow, that the Squire shoved his Iiat back and put both bis hands in his pockets, a symp¬ tom of defcrmination with him, and be. gan to question him. They lenced awhile, in true Yankee:faihion, till at last Grand¬ father became exasperated.
"Look here, Aaron Slow I',' said he, ".what in thunder do you pester me so about that cow for ? She's a good.enough beast, I see, for a native; but those Ayr¬ shires are belter cows and better blood, and you know it. ' What are you navi¬ gating round me for, so glib f"
" Well, now. Squire," relumed Aaron, whittling at the gate with sudden vehe. mence, "fact is, I'voset'mymindon your buyin' that crilier, an you jes' set down on that 'cro milkin' stool an' I'll tell ye the rights on't, though I feel kinder meechin' myself, to be so soft about it as I bo"
:" Leave off shaving my new gate,, then, and dori't, Ihirik I'm going to trust a hun¬ dred ,arid eighty five solid flesh to a three- legged stool. .I'm too old for ih'at: '.I'll sit on the step here Nowgo'ahead, man.'" 'So Grandfather sat down on. the step, and Aaron turned his back. against ' the gale and kicked one buOt on the other.— He was not used to narration.
" Well, you know we had a dreadful spell o' weather a month ago. Squire.— There ha'n't never been such a March in in my day as this, last ; an' 't was worse up our way'n'.'t was here, an' down lo JIarlland Holler was Ihebeatof all Why, it snowed an' it blowed an' it friz till all Natur' could n't atan' it no more! Well, about them days 1 was down to Hartland Centre a-buyin' some fat cattle for Haner¬ ford market, an' I met Orrin Nye drivin' his team pretty spry, for he see it was com in' on to snow; but when he catched sight o' me, he slopped the horses an' hollered out to me, so I slapped along an' asked wliat he wanted ; an' he said there was a woman down to the Holler that had a cow to sell, an' he knowed I was apt to buy cow critters along in the spring, so he 'd spoke about it, for she was kinder in a hurry to sell, for she was goin' to move.— So I said I'd see to 't, an' he driv along. I thought likely Tshould git it cheap, ef she was in a hurry to sell, an' I conclud¬ ed I'd go along next day ; 't wa'n't more 'n' seven mile from tho Centre, down by a piece o' piny woods, an' the woman was Miss Adams, I used ter know George Adams quite a spell ago, an' he wasalike- ly fellow. Well, it come on to snow jest as fine an' dry as sand, an* the wind blew like needles, an', come next day, when I started to foot it down there, I did n't feel as though I could ha' gone, ef I had n't been sure of a good bargain ; the snow had n't driv much, but the weather had settled down dreadful cold; 't was dead still, an' the air sorter cut ye to breathe it; but I'm naterally hardy, an' I kep' along till I got there. I did n't feel so all-fired cold as I hev sometimes, but when I stepped in to tho door, an' sho asked me to hev a cheer by the fire fust I knew I did n't know nolhin'; I come to the floor like a felled ox. I expect I must ha' been nigh on to dead with clear cold, fer she was the best part o' ten min utes bringin' on me to. She rubbed my hands an' face with camphire an' gin me some hot tea ; she had n't got no spcrils in the house, but she did everything a lit¬ tle woman could do, an' I warmed through an' through afore long, an' wo stepped out into the shed to look at the cow. ; " Well, Squire, I ha'n't got much na¬ tur' into me noway, an' it's well I ha'n't; but that cow beat all, I declare for 't! She put her head round the minufe Miss Adams come in; an' if ever you see a dumb beast pleased, that 'ere cow was tickled to pieces. She put her nose down to tbe woman's cheek, an' she licked her hands, an' she moved up agin' her an' rubbed her ear on her,—she all but talk ed ; an' when I looked round an' see them black eyes o' Miss Adam's with wet in 'em, I 'most wished I had a pockethand- kercher myself.
"'You won't sell her to a hard master, will you?' says she. *I want her to go where she '11 bt well cared for, an' I shall know; where she is; for if ever Jthings comes right agin, I want to hev her back, She '« been half my livin' an' all my com¬ pany for quiet a spell, an' 1 shall miss her dreadfully.'.
enty five dollars for that cow,—an' I'd
has brought!" thought she, emerging from her dream. " No, for there is noth¬ ing blithesome or merry about it. But surely the child—if child it is—boars some strange charm," she mused, as tho Ught from tho grey oyea wandered up towards the steely blue, and fluttering sigh seemed almost lo waft the frail being away. Poor lost one! did the sky too prove unsympa- thizing! Was heaven thy home beyond, thy earth-dimmed vision 1
A silver thread was woven with the teacher's monotonous duties that day.— She looked at the pure brow of the shad¬ owy stranger, whose presence she half be¬ lieved was an illusion. She laid her head among the soft hair to be sure that she was real. But when she touched the flut¬ tering hands, and met the wide-open, far seeing-eyes, and marked the swaying mo¬ tions, she watched for the bird to unfold its wings and fly far out of sight. But day after day the little stranger tarried.— This note of heavenly music floated among earthly discords. Eich morning she seem¬ ed fairer and more evanescent; and as the balmy spring air came in through the open doors, the teacher looked doubting- ly at her, thinking that she had cherished a vision—that the delicato stranger was a creation of fancy; and then sha seemed to melt away in the brightness shining down from the warm sky.
One night, when the last rogue was done With, and the sixty chairs stood emp¬ ty, the teacher passed along the littered
ha' gin twenty more not to ha' seen Miss side walk, intent on finding the home of
Adams's face a-lookin' arter me an' her when we wont away from the door.
"So now. Squire, you can take her or leave her."
Aaron Slow knew this man. Squire Hollis pulled out bis pocket-bcok and paid seventy-five dollars-on the spot for a native cow called Biddy,
" Now clear out with your Ayrshires !" said he, irascibly. " I'm a fool, but I won't buy them, too."
" Well, Sqire, good day," said Aaron, with a grin.
But I am credibly informed that the next week he did come back with tho two Ayrshires, and sold them to Grand-, father, remarking to the farmer that he " should ha' been a darned fool to take the old gentleman at bis word; for he never knowed a man hank arter harnsome stock but whfl t he bought it, fust or last.'tf Now I also discovered that theregiment George enlisted in was one whose Colonel I knew well; so I wrote and asked about Sergeant Adams. My report was highly honorable to George, but had some bad news in it; he had been severely wound¬ ed in the right log, and, though recover¬ ing, would be disabled from further ser¬ vice. A fortnight after 1 drove into Haner- ford"with Grandfather Hollis, and we stop¬ ped at the old bikery. It looked exquis¬ itely neat in tbe shop, as well as prosper¬ ous externally, andDely stood behind the counter with a lovely child in her arms. Grandfather bought about half a bushel of crackers and cookies, while I played with the bady. As he paid for them, he said in his kind old voice that nobody can bear without pleasure,—
" I believe I havo a pet of yours in my bafn at Avondale, Mrs. Adtms."
Dely's eyes lighted up, and a quick flush of feeling glowed on her pretty face.
"Oh, sir! you did buy Biddy, then and you are Squire Hollis ?"
"'i'es,Ma,am, and Biddy is well, and cared for, as fat and sleek as a mole, and still comes to her name."
"That you.kindly. Sir!" said Dely, wilh an emphasis that gave the simple phrase most earnest meaning.
"And how is your husband, Mrs. Adams 1 said I.
A deeper glow displaced the fading blush Grandfather had called out,and;her beautiful eyes flashed at me.
" Quite well, I thank you, and not so very lamo. And he's coming home next week."
She took the baby from me. as she spoke, and, looking in its bright little face, said,— ^
"Call him. Baby!" "Pa-pa!" said the child. " If ever you come to Avondale, Mrs,
the child about whom hung this vague unworldly mystery. Eunice Worth the scholars called her.
On a remote alley was a little Metho¬ dist chapel, where an itinerant preacher had lately by a strange solemnity and an over-powering vehemence been stirring many souls. Was he the grave man who came to her door ? and did he call this flickering spirit his own? The names were identical. She would go and see^ although she might be pursuing a phan¬ tom.
The light of the spring day was fading when she turned into a by-path and step¬ ped within the open door of the chapel The sombre room, made darker by twi¬ light shadows, was filled with a crowd which trembled before the earnestness of a haggard man, whose hollow cheek and burning eye bespoke an inward fire. But just at his side upon the high platform— unless the teacher's eyes deceived her—. was a ray of light in the gloom, the sha¬ dow of a dove upon the wild waters. Yes' as she looked again, the pure mith which haunted her school-room.
She walked home in the early evening amid the scattering crowd. As she passed a basement window where a candle threw its sickly light over the street, iustinctive- ly she paused to look within the mouldy room. A gray-haired woman touched by a harsher finger than that of time, -vas seated on a cricket beside the threo leg¬ ged stool which supported the fluttering j caudle, steadily plying the needle. She lifted her head, and on her sharp features lay a peaceful smile ; for at her feet the sylph of the chapel rested, the gray-blue eyes turned towards the stained plaster¬ ing as if they met tho light of unfading stars.
The teacher moved on thinking of the school when Eunice Worth first dawned upon it. Of the dirty, ragged coats, tbe smutty faces, the twisted legs and warped feet. Tho belligerent dispositions, the sly, deceitful natures and the reckless spirits. Each child so thoroughly pos¬ sessed of evil as io be inacce.''sible to good —or so tbe perplexed teacher was forced to believe. What weary hours had she spent in trying to win them to the right! How had she nerved her feeble strength to force them from their crooked paths I Iniquity stalked triumphant through the long, dusty aisles. It seemed useless to fight with the giant. She would fain have given up the battle. But since the advent of Eunice a quietness brooded over the school, and the teacher thought she saw a shade of softness on many hard faces, as they turned towards the little fig. ure with its gleaming eyes, and the ging¬ ham frock Hutlering about it like the I wingi of a bird when it is ready to fly
She knew that she would come to her when the soft wind sighed over the world; when tho moonlight lay on her carpet; when a star shone through the mist; when a leaf floated doubtfully into the gr.i6s; when a breath just stirred the water, or- when some bird let fall a trembling note of sweet sadness. She felt again the un¬ resolved doubt if she was a flesh and blood child, or a spiritual picture to which good angels had opened her eyes.
But if this blessing which she named Eunice had no material form, but was a symbolical vision which imagination made real—or if in a child like others, she had by an instinct truer than common, dis¬ cerned the capacity for good with which we are each in some measure endowed; had she not beentenderly taught of heaven that purity and beauty still have a place in the world, that a glimpse of heaven in hCp heart would react upon the.souls of. oth¬ ers; that on the perilous journey of life beside its many pitfalls, in the darkest', wildest nights, angels from heaven's mer. cy-seat stand to guide tho traveller ; that desolate homes and stricken hearts, faith crowns with a halo of bliss, holier far than the happiness which lies buried in the past.
Th© teacher turned her face cheerfully towards the factory-school where her share of tbe world's labor lay. . Hereafter she knew that cramped forms aud distorted faces would bo to her but accidents of birth, for she had learned that in spirit each one, however outwardly repulsivci was akin to the Little Stranger.—Arthur^a Home Magazine.
lESAL,
LEGAL NOTICES.
ADMINIBTEATOR'S NOTICB. Estate of Christian Baohtel, lata of East Co- calico township, deceased- LETTEhS of Administration on said SdU)e h&Ttog Wen gr.at«J to the underBigaad all p.raoDB indsbtad thereto are reqnoBteii to make im¬ mediate autt'.iueat, and thoai ha-lo;; cUlma or de¬ mands against the same will pmoot Ibam wltlioiitda lay /or Btfttlament to the aoderRlgnad. residing in EpbraU township, DiVID STKINMKTZ,
may 20 6La25 AdminiBlrator.
ADMINISTRATOR'S NOTICE.
Estate of Adam S. Brabaker late of Strasbarg
twp., deesased.
LETTERS of Adminiiitration on said estate havinf been granted to the noderslgaed, ail persona ladtrbted thereto ars rsqassted lomaltn Inimcdi. ate settUmsnt, and those having claims or demands against the hsme will present them ^vlthoQt dplay for settismeDt to the nndersigued, residing in ssid tirp, B. IIO.tK, may 24 6t*37 Administrator,
HOTICB.
Assigned Sstate of Benj. Harblsh (miller) &
wife of Peqaea twp., Iiuncaster county. ^pUB said Benjamin IIarni.sh and wife
1 by needcf .^SBlgamentot thelOlh or May, 1965, assigntdalitheirestats. resl andpeisonai to the an- darsignod in trnat for Iholwneflt of his creditor.^ They tberafore request alt persons knowing themselves in¬ debted to said assignor to mahe payment to thennder- sigoed, or rlthsr ofthem, without delay, and all per¬ sons having olaims or di-mandj ssaioet said Afaijtnor are reqnested to present the same dnty antheotic^ted to tho nndorslgued. LancaMar, PAMDKL U%?i,
May 21, ifSj. I). W. HAKNISH,
6t--7 AsFl-^neos, residing in
West Lampeter twp.
ADjnNfSTEATOR'S NOTICB.
Estate of Jacob Stively, lata of Froridence
township, deo'd,
L.ETT'SRS of Administration on said estate having been granted to the nodersignsd, 11 persons indebted thereto are reqiio-ted to maitt- im- m* |
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