Lancaster Examiner and Herald

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LMGISTER, PA., WEDSESBAY, JAI^MRY 28, 1863.
NO, 10.
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[Original.]
BWEET   iEE   THeIjeKTLE    ZEPHVBB.
BY FINLEY JOnNSON.
Sweet are the gentle zephyrs,
When Spring is drawing near, Streel are (he warbling of the birda
Unto lhe pagser'a ear. Every scene abounds in gladness,
Aziire is the sky above. And midst joys so delicious.
Who can hinder thoughts of love.
When with benuty all is teeming,
When to bloom tho flowers spring. Love will softly o'er ray senses
Throw hia bright and golden wing ; And my nature and my feelings
Propel me to bear a part. In the joys wbich love impresses
On a true nnd faithful heart.
Purer tban the sLainless snow.
Lovelier lhan the flowers gay, Huir like golden sunbeams brigbt—
Heart a.s open as the day ; Teeth as white a:* ocean's pearls.
Stately, soul-subduing air, Heaven knows there is no other
With my Julia can compare.
Resting in her love aecureiy,
Kuowing that her heart is mine. Feeling that she clings to mo
Like the ivy to the vine, Oalm I glide upon life's waters,
Iiiding on the foamy crest. Contentment dwella within my heart,
I indeed am doubly   blest. Baj-timobe, Mu.
'.I. .¦   ¦ ume;
WAITING.
A young girl sut on the sunny beaoh of a Southern shore. Tho deep liquid blue overhead ; thc glitteriBg, heaving, false sea before, and the arid scorching coast behind, with its scanty adornment of grizzly cactus, or fierce bristling aloe.— Sho was a fuir English girl, with sunny hair, and full, grey eye. A guileless, loveable young face it was, a.s it looked up at the sound of stops approaching on the shingle.
"What, just where I left you an hour ago! Are you scorched to death ? The sun is singeing your wbite umbrella."
"You said you would come back, Mar¬ ston, so I waited for you," was the gentle reply to the somewhat impatiently spoken addresa; "but let us go in now; I am very tired."
"Well, roaily, Marion, it's your own fanltj no one ever expected you to sit in the sun all this while. Come in and let us try that new song I got yesterday."
Poor Marion was very tired, but instead of resting in her room, as sbe felt very much inclined to do, in ten minutes she was at the piano, patiently working away at the song whieh JIarstons, who was not a bit tired, intended to sing that evening at a private concert.
To the practicing succeeded visitors, to the visitors the table d'hote, at which Marion's evident fatigue attracted her aunt's notiee. She dismissed her to lie down until it shou Id be time to dress for the concert. As Marston lighted a can¬ dle aud gave it to her, he said kindly :
"I believo I was very unmerciful to you this evening, I didnot know you were really so tired."
Ho spoke with concern, and the foolish little heart was so happy, that instead of allowing him to be slightly penitent, which inight havb done him good, she hastened to console him by saying she was only sleepy, and it waa not his fault at all.
"Dear child !" said Aunt Howard, as the door closed npon her, "how unselfish she is ! You wil! be a happy man, Mar¬ ston'"
"I intend to be," was the very curt rejoinder, as the young man carefully se¬ lected a cigar and stepped out on the ver¬ andah.
Marion Maitland had been sent to En¬ gland aa an infant, to her aunt's care.— Her mother remained in India, putting off her retnrn for a season, always when the time came, unwilling to leave her husband. At last she really did embark, bntwhen Mrs. Howard took the little Ma¬ rion to Southampton to meet the steamer and to restore the child to the mother, she was met by the sad intelligence that the poor lady bad died of exhaustion on the voyage. The little girl, therefore, remain- under her aunt's charge. Mrs. Howard was worthy of the confidence reposed in herby her brother. She loved her neico and acted by her as she would have acted by her own child.
Dr. and Mrs. Howard had been long married; they had no family. The Doc¬ tor had adopted as his own his youngest brother's only son ; the Marston already introduced to the reader. The uncle in¬ tended the young mnn for the Church, hoping he might one day succeed him in the living he held—a family one. But Marston's talenta and predilections all pointed him out as fitted more for the Bar than the Church. Possessed of su¬ perior, if not first-rate abilities, he made his way slowly on that up-hill road. Be¬ fore Dr. Howard died, he had the gratifi¬ cation of seeing his nephew established in his self-chosen profession, with a fair start. Mrs. Howard had, from the first, warmly seconded her husband'.s views with regard to his adopted son. She waa strongly attached to him, and after the Doctor's death her house continued to be the young man's home. She was a good, amiable womjn, nor wanting in parts.— Her life had been chiefly spent in the society of men of education and letters; and though not herself scholar or artist, she had in no mean degree what men of talent value, the power of appreciation. Eer peculiar feeling was an inordinate appreciation of the.master sex. Like moat fiulings it waa only merit in excess. It aroae from her profound affection and veneratioa for her own lord and masteT. Attributing to him all.pfirfeotiona of aonl and intellect, sbe duiitsbl; aod gsner- - '-»ttil^ iudowed-«ll''bli'ei''1o^ witK\;i]t(>
and invariably—from an honest conviction, not from cowardice—leaned to.the stronger side.
Woman she regarded—and truly—as ' tiie icomplement of man} but it is doubt¬ ful if her mind ever embraoed the reverse of. the proposition.
Her own life had been one of volantary and entire surrender; happily for her the hand on the rein had. beon uniformly steady and light.
This.influenoe had, of oonrse, worked on the young Marian, and had not been withoat effect on Marston Howard; As Marion grew up thero was frequent talk of her gobg to rejoin her father.
Bnt the General waa often on active service, and looked forward to aettling down by-and-by in an English home, warmed by the sunshine of a daughter's love and care. He shrewdly guessed that bringing her over to India would not be the most direot way to ensure tbe accom¬ plishment of his hopes, and therefore begged Ms sister to continue her guar¬ dianship until he could -come home him¬ self to claim his daughter.
A word now in praise of Marion. Gen¬ tle and submissive, she had aptly learned her aunt's oft-inculcated lesson that obe¬ dience is the first virtue of woman. She always yielded to the alightest wish of tjjose placed over her; and this habit of deference, united to a sweet, courteous manner, made her a general favorite.— Pliant, however, as she seemed and was, Marion was yet a vertebrate animal. She sometimes, not oiten, refused to bend at the firat aummons, and questioned, timid¬ ly but pertinaceously, matters which her aunt would have had her receive, as she herself received them, as articles of faith. Such questionings were usually addressed to Marston, for whom she entertained, as was right and mete, a profound esteem and admiration. Sim and his acts aud fiats were never questioned; that would have been a presumption at which she would have started aghast. And ahe waa in truth muoh indebted to her couain by adoption. JIarston was a deep thinker, a good linguist, a man of much general in¬ formation and refine d tastes. As a youth he had made the child his plaything and messenger: as a young man, he had found the graceful girl a very pleassnt attraction to his uncle's house. Half un- ponsciously he had called out her dormant powers, and opened to her paths of study and reflection whieh she had patiently followed up, occasionally coming to him to lift her over some difficulty which she eould not surnSount alone. She had thus become an intelligent companion; always glad to be conversed with, grateful for in¬ struotion, and humbly obliged for her cousin's notice. What wonder that by degrees Marston Howard oame to the conclusion that his pretty cousin Marion was the womau among all with whom he waa acquainted most fitted to be the help¬ mate of a rising barrister "i" She was in- intelligent enough for a domestic whet¬ stone when such an article was iu de¬ mand; accomplished enongh to adom her—no, his station; pretty enough and graceful enough to make his house at¬ tractive ; rich enough to make an addi¬ tion to his means that would be very ad¬ vantageons at the commencement of a ca¬ reer. So he resolved to marry as soon as Marion should have oompleted her nine¬ teenth year. It is not certain, whether he ever expounded his views on this subject to Marion. Mrs. Howard had long ago destined the young couple for eaeh other, and there came to be in time a tacit un-1 dcrstanding on the matter.
About three months before Marion's birth-day, General Maitland fixed the period ofhis often-postponed return, and named the mail by which he waa to be expected. After ao many years of resi¬ dence in a hot climate, it was considered hardly prudent to re-commence hia Eu¬ ropean life by an English winter. There¬ fore, in the autumn, Mrs. Howard took her niece ibr a tour on the Continent, re¬ solving to wind it up in the south of France, thereto wait the General's arrival. " Haa Giuseppe brought the carriage an hour too aoon?" said Mrs Howard as she heard a confused noise in the hall, and distinguished her name, "' or is it—^yes ! my dear, dear brother.'" And General Maitland and Mrs. Howard met after a separatiou of thirty years.
Marston lifted the heavy striped cur¬ tain and stood against the moonlight; the opposite door opened and Marion entered; behind her a servant held a lamp high to light her young mistress. The Italian girl's deep rich coloring, with the orange handkerchief on her glossy hair, contras¬ ted with the signorina's pale muslin,—a white rose her only ornament. Another moment and the child was clasped onee more in her father'a arms.
The first days of such reunion are not a happy time. Tbe reality falls ao far short of the anticipations formed, no mat¬ ter how carefully those anticipationa may hjve been curbed and guarded.
Friends feel, after a long separation, that a rift has opened which letters have never plumbed and scarcely spanned.— Eaeh dreads to open an old, remembered wound, that perchance haa healed long since, and scaroely left a scar; but the sudden start shows him too late that some chance thrust haa probed a newer, unsus¬ pected anguish to tbe quick.
What meetings there are, too, in the cruel, unnatural, Indian life, when father and daughter, mother and son, even hus¬ band and wife, meet almost as strangers. Snch meetings are worae than partings; for in most partings there is hope; in these meetings, too often, only chill disappoint¬ ment.
Marston Howard derived lesa pleasnre from the General's return than his aunt and cousin. He began to be uneasily conscious that possesion is not nine points of thc law. Possession of what, thoagh ? Of Marion's hand and heart. But he muat aak confirmation in thia poasession ofher father? and what had he to allege in support ofhis claim? Not hor promise, for he had never sought it ? and to aeek it now would be nngentlemanly.
Chance relieved hrm from the dilemma. Mrs, Howard, in speaking of Marion one day, aaaociated Marston's name with hers, as ahe had long been naed to associate them in herown mind. It waa apart and
rve;epi9e home; bid aiid ;broken' down, to enjoy, her myaelf, to think I'm, going to give her up to a scamp of a —" , " But, :my dear brother," interpoaed Mrs. Howard, timidly.
" Not a bit of it; let him come and tell me himself; I'll not keep him long for my answer; I'll tell him what I think of him —talents, fortune, forsooth I' and the in¬ dignant General strode to the other end of the room and baok, pulling his grey moustache.     '
"' Pon my honor 1 I've heard it said that men are selfish—^I deny it. I never was selfish; but those young fellows are, to want to leave me alone—stealing her little heart from her old father! And the ohild—has she given herself away without my consent?"
But poor Mrs. Howard, terrified at the storm she had brought down, harried away, her hankerchief to her eyes, just aa the ohief offender entered, umbrella in hand, from his morning walk.
" Hallo I you, sir!" shouted the Gener¬ al: "a word with you, Mr. Howard, if you please." The irate tones of the sold¬ ier subsiding gradually before the oool dignity of the oivilian.
What passed between the two gentle¬ men never transpired. Marston's an¬ nouncement that afternoon, that he waa going on a three days shooting excursion into the hills, was probably one result of the interview; the General's intimation to his sister that " Howard was a very fine young man, straight forward and gentle¬ manlike," was another.
Innocent Marion, who waa recovering her playfulness as the first awe of her tall father wore off, made herself very merry about her cousin's proposed expedition, and maliciously speculated whether hia bag would suffice to provide one day's game course at the table (Thoie.
Something in Maraton'a manner, as he bade her good-night, made Marion pauae ou the stairs, and look back at him; and aa he, too, looked up, she kissed her hand, and said again, in aweet acceuta, " Good night—good-bye !"
The young man stood still till the last fold of her dress passed from his sight.—
A weight fell on hia apirit: and when hare-entered the sitting-room, he felt that the first shaft of aorrow from the bow of life had penetrated the joints ofhis armor.
Mrs. Howard began to sigh for home. General Maitland and hia daughter were to proceed to Italy—all to moet in the spring in Paris or London. The pleasure of making out routes and looking up maps and hand-books kept Marion's mind from dwelling on the parting. The General's resolves were audden; hia decreea irre¬ versible. Ou the third morning a trav¬ eling carriage, packed and loaded, atood at the door of the hotel. The six white horses kicked and sliulSed, and shook the bella and taasels of their quaint head¬ gear, as the men in blouaes crept in and out between their legs, violentiy but vain¬ ly endeavoring to disentangle that rope harness, that always was and always will remain in hopeless complication.
The General stood on the steps in two great-coats and a plaid, superintending with authoritative gestures; the dashing Neapolitan courier, black-bearded and ear- ringed, gesticulated wildly; Myrawd, the General'a body-guajd, a alim, graceful kitmutgar, in white robe and orimson tur¬ band, stood calmly observent under a palm-tree. Her father called " Marion," quick and loud. One more emDrace from her mother-aunt, and she eame down stairs and entered the • carriage. The prim English maid was already in the. front caleehe; the courier sprang to her side; the native, complaining neither of aun nor wind, mounted behind. The maitre d'hotel, bare-headed, shut tho car¬ riage-door; the postillions lashed their whips; and kicking, screaming, rattling, jolting, the six horses and lumbering ve¬ hicle dashed off.
Not till they had left the glaring level road, and commeneed a long ascent, did Marion raise her veil and speak. Then face and voice were both in order.    Her
first words were very consolatory to her father:
tow;
"Eh? What? That young fellow got
" How sorry poor Marston will be to¬ night to find us gone !"
General Maitland then told her that Guiseppe had returned late the night be¬ fore, with a note. Mr. Howard had re¬ ceived a telegram from his clerks, sum¬ moning him in all haste to town: he ex¬ pressed many regrets at being obliged to leave his aunt to Guiseppe's escort.
Maricn enjoyed her jonrney. She thought it very pleasant traveling in such ease, with her father lavishing on her every oare and attention. Past beautiful Monaco, lofcly Mentone; along the gid- dy Cornice, with the white apray danoing below to lordly Genoa; aiid over the blue Mediterranean, through squalid Civita Vecchia, and Imperial Kome. Letters passed regularly between the old capital ofthe old world and the new. Marion did not write to Marston ; sho never had written to him, and it did not occur to her to do so now. She concluded that he would see her lettera to her aunt, in which there waa generally some apecial message for him, to whioh ahe reoeived a message in reply.
Rome was an unfathomable enjoyment to Marion. Well read in its history, with unwearing pleasure she explored its ruins, tracing the old classic landmarks. There, patriots sacrificed self-interest or life; here, mighty orators swept the many- stringed heart of the multitude with mas¬ ter-hand. There, heroes bled; here, mar¬ tyrs suffered in a nobler cause, and died triumphant over a mightier enemy, even death himself. ¦¦ A holier, deeper interest yet, filled her heart aa she threaded the dark kbrynths consecrated by thc memo¬ ry ofthe saintly dead; pausing before the rudely seulptured cross, and martyr's palm, or sacrificial lamb and winged scep¬ tre ;  emblems of Buffering and victo¬ ry, death and reaurrection.
The tastes also which Maraton had awakened ripened rapidly in the atmos¬ phere of gallery and studio, and ahe drank deep draughts of exquisite delight' from the rioh, clear, harmonies pealing throagh vaulted aisles and pillared nave.
Nor was her &ther an uncongenial oom¬ panion.
General Maitland was a man of educa¬ tion and intelligence: he remembered well tbeieuons of hia yonth. .After long yens hig .]iadl)tpi^^b«akto Jintope joiietliiiig of thattagridte^eeriBterMt telkii^ iiew
and old'that tine sometimes sees in elder¬ ly men whose lives though outwardly stir-^ riflg, and wearing to the bodily frame, have not .been drained by couatant anxie¬ ty or soiTow.
In his youth General Maitland had made the grand toor; which, by the way, meant a great deal more then than now. He had associated with men whose names live in history ;'he had seen the whirlpool of Earope in which dynasties went down; and even dipped his oar in the outer cir¬ cles of the seething watera. Truth to tell, he had worn his recollections of these days and thinga somewhat threadbare, and did not alwaya give to the separate points their rektive proportions. To some he gave an undue prominence (chiefly with the meritorious design of proving the su¬ periority of those times to these; ps an artist exaggerates a part to give foree to the whole); while otl\ers that militated strongly against his 'viewa were gradimlly subdued and forgotten.
The veteran's preface: " When I was taken prisoner in 17—," had oome at last to be the signal for rising from table.
It muat be confessed that his ideas on mony snbjects did not mareh with the times. He depreciated modern literature, whioh he did not read; he was, therefore, totally unprepared for,and horribly scandal¬ ized by theories and principles which he hotly contested; then found, to his dis¬ may, _were universally recognised, and ac¬ cepted as dogmas. Perhaps, this sojourn on the Continent, where, though the new¬ est theories are aometimes hatched, they obtain lesa widely, and are diacusaed leaa freely—waa a good preparation for Eng¬ land, where the sudden ahock to his pre¬ judices might have driveu him desperate; or, baok to Bengal by the next mail I It served as a sort of ascending temperature preparatory to the final fusion.
Sometimes—not often, but at gradually decreasing intervals—the father's mind and the daughter's came into collision.— Tiie younger set up a aignal on the scene of the diaaster, to exercise caution in the future: she did not forsake her own line, and carry on the traffic by another'a.
Marion Maitland'a mind waa progrea¬ aive, keen, and of good atrong fibre. She waa easentially a woman of to-dai/. A wo¬ man ; not a girl; for her powers of mind were strengthening daily; she grew fast. There is no better finishing-school than travelling.
Thc heart has to go through ita prepar¬ atory schooling, ita college course and final examination, as well as the intellect. It needs a longer education—perfeotion is a yet more distant goal—^it awaits the award of a higher tribunal. The heart is bound to a longer, harder apprenticeahip than ita younger brother the head. Ita books are men ; ita tutors many; all guided and di rected by its Master, Judge, and Maker: who, alone holding the key to its wond¬ rous mechanism, alone choses and appoints His agents in the work. Numberless are His instruments: but on all hearts alike. He, in His sovereign wisdom, inflicta, aooner or later, the "sharp surgery of pain."
Marion had never known sorrow. Ten¬ derly guarded, solicitously eared for, she had grown up in tranquil sunshine. To the coeroion of stronger wills she had in¬ deed been subjected; but in her case this had been salutary, as the stake and bram¬ bles to a sapling.
Her affections had been restricted to a narrow oircle: they were the more in¬ tense. A great heart oan hold a great deal; love is diffusive. But a child's heart is not great: it is warm and aoft.— Its love deepens and refines, if restrained for a time from spreading shallow in too wide abed.
The daughter had her father'a sympa¬ thy in ali her puaults and pleasures. Her warm respouse to his love called forth all the best qualities of hia heart, while her grace and talent gratified not only his pa¬ ternal affection bnt his pride. Yet there was one topic on which she soon learned to dread his chilling coldness. And al¬ lusion to Marston Howard was mot by a short reply or a depreciatory comment. She owed him much; she waa grateful and generoua; the cause of the absent was saered to her, and her heart rebelled against her father'a injustice. So she spoke of Maraton less often; and, as a natural consequence, thought of him more. It was the clond, " no bigger than a man'a hand," heralding the atorm that was to ¦wrench and atrain, but root the young tree. Amid ahtiquitiea, arts, ball, and operas, the Winter paased away. To the motiey revel ofthe Carnival succeeded the ecelesiaatical gaieties of Lent. Easter fell carly. The aeason was unusually severe. On Easter Eve General Maitland recei¬ ved a telegram announcing his sister's sudden deatb, and summoning him to the funeral. To leavo Home at that moment waa impoaaible. The Campagna waa flood¬ ed—the oommunication by sea perilous and uncertain. A week's delay made the journey useless.
The blow fell heavily on Marion; It was the first time she had eome to elose quarters with Death—heard the twang of the bowstring and felt the shriek of the dr aa the bolt sped to ita mark.
She drooped. The usnal remedy was prescribed—change of air and scene; in other words, mental excitement and bodily fatigue, till exhaustion of both moral and physieal powera supervenes. The eaao becomea complicated; more doctors are oalled in, and if one of them happena to be a man of discernment, he orders " let¬ ting the patient alone;" if not, decline solves the difficulty.
It was May. The Maitlands oocupied one of the lovely villas of Sorrento. Ma¬ rion rested from the mid-day heat on the piazza, shaded by umber-striped curtains from the ultramarine sky. Her gaze trav-- eled over the orange gardens and the bay, and reated on the unseen. Her father paused beside her sofa.. " Papa, when shall we go home ?" « Next week, ifit pleaae tho signorma," he said kindly ; " but I thonght yon liked this place ?"
« Who would not, papa ? But we have been so long away from home."
"And where in England shall we pitch our tent ? Come, let iis sit in council^- you know more about it than I do."
She amiled—a more animated smile than hadgladdened her fether's heart, for weeks. .   ,
,,,'.' You want to turn eheperdess?"
you would never live ont of London." " I'll try; M-oan ruii up and down by train, you know."
" I do. believe, papa, yoti are as; eager to try the Great Weatern express as a boy to try a new kite."
"Yes; and to see miichin'ery atwork in the great manufactories."
" Ah ! you are to take me to Manches¬ ter. We must aak Marston to go with ua, he underatands all about manufactures and factories.and such things." The General took snuff. "I think we need not tronble Mr. Howard."
" Does Marston never write, papa ?" She spoke 'with an effort that brought the rose to her cheeks; she was determi¬ ned to break the spell that seemed to stifle his name on her lips.
" Aye, he  writes.     What's  that fool Jaeopo doing with the watering-pot ?" "Does he never send a word to me 1" " He sends his—kind regards." " Kind regards; I should as aoon have
expeoted him to "
She atood, indignation and perplexity blended in her expression.
" Hia compliments -would be too formal to one he has known from a child," re¬ sumed the General. " He is ovSrwhelm- ed with business—^I wonder he collects polite mesaagea at all!" And he entered the house. Marion looked ill and weak next morn¬ ing. Her father felt guilty, but said to himself that she would get over it; ao he ordered his horse and set off for a loug day's ride, to be out of sight of her pale, sad faoe.
The longing to be " at home" gave her atrength and energy. In three weeka' timo they were at home—Lf that term cau be applied to a hotel in Piccadilly.
On the fourth day Miaa Maitland waa alone in the drawing-room, when the aer¬ vant announced "Mr. Howard." Sad¬ ness and a slight reproach were in her voice as she greeted him. " So loug before you came !"
" This is my third visit "
" Y'ou are very good to call so early, Mr. Howard," said Genoral Maitland, en¬ tering at the moment. " I am at your service at once."
And with something about " military dispatch," he earried the visitor offto his business room.
One evening her father plaeed a litho¬ graph, such as l.ind-agents have in their offices, on Marion'a desk. " Tremawr! is it not papa ?" " You like ?" " I used to think it a lovely plaee when
the K 3 lived there."
"I am glad you like it; I have takeu it on a long lease."
There was much to do; furniture to be bought; au establishment to be formed. General Maitland was indefatigable in at¬ tending his daughter from warehouse to warehouae. He gave her carte hiaiiche for the exercise of her taste and hor recol¬ lections of Tremawr guided her choioe.— Marston sometimea was of the shopping party, and Marion would soou have fallen into her old happy intercourse with him, i but she was conscious of a formality in his manner that checked the ease of her own. In due time all waa ready for depart¬ ure, and, amid piles of luggage General Maitland strode up and down the Pad- dington platform. Marion sat in the wait¬ ing-room.
" At last," said a well-known voice, and Marston stood by her side.   "Why do you avoid me, Marion ?" " I—Marston !"
" Yes; I am kept from seeing you ou the most trivial pretences. Are they an¬ other's or your own ?"
"Not mine," ahe answered, coloring deeply and looking dowu.
" Then you are the same, Marion 1" he continued, eagerly. " You care for me atill?"
He had put out his hand; she plaeed hers in it.
" Did you think I eould forget so easi¬ ly, Maraton ?"
" There is the bell; may I write to you. God bless you, Marion ?" They reached Tremawr by evening. " The country air has done you good, already," aaid her father.
And certainly she looked like her old aelf again. He did not know the aecret apring of joy that caused the bright smiles. Tho letter came. General Maitland had left home for two daya, on business, so Marion eould rejoice over it to her heart's content.
But she was obliged to tell her father ofit on his return.
" Papa, I have had a letter from Mar¬ ston Howard.
"Tbe deuce you have! And what does he say for himself?"
"He aska me'to be hia wife, papa." "And yonhave given him yOnr anawer ?" "I wait for you to endorse it," She had turned pale: "Then write and decline, with ihanka: here ia my desk—write." "I cannot write that, papa." "What! Eh ! Then PH write for you." She moved from the escretoire. "T will write for myself; you oan enclose it in yours."
"¦y^ery fine; aud eall me a tyrant; fancy yourself a victim."
"I will tell him the truth." "And pray what may that be ?" "That  I  love   him,"  she   answered^ proudly.
He said no more. When, an hour later, she brought him ber note, he put it in his envelope and sealed it in silence
She received one more letter from Mars¬ ton: it was harsh and bitter. He accused her of coquetry in their last interview; "If she had not intended to accept him, why have allowed him to write. As tb obe¬ dience, tbe wife of a professional man," he was well aware "could not command the luxuries to which ahe had grown accustom¬ ed. He did not doubt she had ohosen wisely." With scalding tears she read the oriel words; then threw them into the flamea, and prayed that they might be forgiven him.
The life at Tremavjr waa retired. Miss Maitland had too many resourcea ever to feel time hang heavy upon her handa.— The eler^man and hia wife were old ac¬ quaintances, and soon became friends, worthy of regard uid.trnat. plnnera aiid visits, to. tbe-neighbonng coantry :hon^ leliemd (hemonotoojr of.Hi^tWr. wdthe
the General Ecom feeling dnll. He took pleasure in tho coantry life; inspected hia stables; demanded vegetables frpm the perplexed gardener at impossible seaaona> and pkyed at farming. His daughter was sometimes starded at tiie rate of mor¬ tality in mutton, bnt forbore remark.
She had trusted that time would aoften her father'a feelinga toward Maraton How¬ ard. Of the cruel wound ahe had heraelf experienced at hia hauda ahe kept the se¬ cret. Winters and Suinmors passed away, and still, though he did not seem untouch¬ ed by his daughter's gentle anddutiful demeanor, he made no allusion to the past. Onee again she saw Marston. They were traveling in the Highlands, and were detained by a mountain storm at a wayside inn. A party of pedestrians entered the kitchen to dry their plaida. She heard his voioe, and a companion called him by name.
" What's to be done, Howard ? Mrs. Marston won't thank ua for keeping din¬ ner waiting."
Whom could he have meant ? Her far¬ ther thought abe had taken cold, and hur¬ ried her home, desiring her maid to nurae her well. She was glad to escapo hig scrutiny. She aupposed afterward that he, too, had seen Marston, for he said:
" I don't hear of Howard; I snppose he'a getting up in hia profeasion. He's a clever fellow, but I suspect with a heart aa hard as his head—a proud, selfish man." We may crouch on the step ot our broken alt.irs, and let the weeds and the oobwebs thicken round us—while wesleep in selfiah torpor, the halt, and the siok, and tho blind, and the sorrowing toil-past needing the succor which we oould give. We may not hide our talent in the earth; for how then shall we answer onr Lord when He reckons with ua at our coming ? So Marion arose and girt on her armor, and found that life had work for her to do and a blessing to bestow.
Her idol was dimmed—tarnished, bu'" not destroyed. Sorrow and disappoint¬ ment did not sour her generous nature— it mellowed aud refined it. Her own grief made her pitiful and loving to all who needed sympathy. On rich and poor alike her eare was lavished; the young and the old came to her to share their trouble or their joy. Nor could her father complain—however willing at time to find fault—that he was in any danger of boing negleoted for others. All engagements were made to yield to his convenience, as his health grew less robust, and his temper more and more irritable, his de¬ mands on her time and patience were often harrassing and unconscionable; but her sweetness of temper was proof against all vexation, and sometimes drew an apology even from him.
The ohildren from the Rectory ran up the garden one morning, as she was tend¬ ing a favorite rose tree.
" Dear Miss Maitland, only think where we went  yesterday!    'We had a whole
holiday, and papa took us to B to see
the manufactory. And it waa the treat that the children have every year; there were auch crowds of people in the park—" " A nasty, blaek, oindery place! I spoilt my nico lavender boots," interrup¬ ted a littie girl.
" You shouldn't have gone in them," retorted her brother, then haatened on with his story. "And they had games and roast beef—^I mean the men and wo- med had dinner, and the children had tea and cakes. And there was such a nice gentleman, a Mr.— Mr.—" " Howard," said the littie girl. " Yes, Howard; and he told them sueh pretty stories about children working for their parenta, and taking care of themj and all that, you know, and talked to them, and so did papa. Aud then they all went to the Town Hall, that is, the grown-up people did, and papa says that he—I mean Mr, Howard—gave such a beautiful lecture to the masters about be¬ ing just to their men, you know.;'
" Well, that was but fair," said the sec¬ ond boy, who had not spoken. " because he had told the men all s>houtlhcir duty—" "And what did he say was their duty ?" asked Miss Maitland, who saw some re¬ mark was expected from her.
" That they were to serve, not with eye- service as men-pleasers, but in singleness of heart, doing service as unto God, not unto men," answered the boy, with rever¬ ent voice.
" And wasn't it funny," added the sis¬ ter, " when he knew wo came from Tre¬ mawr—he used to be here long ago—.and asked so many questions about it, and you too—"
" Not so fast. Cissy; your imagination is running away with yeu," said Mrs. Wilmot, who had joined the group. "Mr. Howard only asked who was at the Hall now, and when he heard he seemed glad to know that it was any one who was ac¬ tive among the people."
Mra. Wilmot had a tolerably correct understanding of the atate of affairs; at the secret sorrow she of oourse could not guess. She thought the children's ao- oo'unt of their holiday, and their new friend, could do no harm; it might gra¬ tify, and could not grieve.
Mr. "Wilmot was warmly interested in all measures of factory and prison disci¬ pline and reform. He had alwaya found Mias Maitiond a ready liatener; he now (on a hint from hia wife) kept her sup¬ plied with Reporta and Eeturus, so that shewassoon quite poated up in thesubject. —^To her anrprise and pleaaure ahe found her cousin's name among the foremost list of those who not only gave the move¬ ment their countenance and approval, but their active assistance and furtherance.— He was no longer a sympathizer merely, but a toiler in ihe good oause.
His labor for the weal of his fellowa seemed to have no apecial limit or defini¬ tion. All outcasts, in or out of stone walls, apparently eame in for a share of his attention. Here, four or five; there, ten or a dozen; elsewhere, a score or two. Marion was rejoiced; ahe eould imagine no trace remaining of the old aelf-worship to which, after all theae years, she could now give the right name. A man who loved himself firat of all, would hardly devote all his leiaure to ao tmengaging a work
Nor was it hia leisure only that was willingly-offered. Hours and days were taken from hia profe8sion,-in whioli for merly it had been-Ids dearest ambition to aohieve fame.   .'Theie was real ;aaonJ|ce
imambitions, almost private manner in| which he seemed to oarry it on. Seldom or never heard of at popular meeting, his work only eame to light now and then. The organized army of philanthropists, with commissariat and baggage-wagons, whon they came, in their marcfa, to a a traet of land whioh they expeoted to find particnlarly sterile, were occasionally surprised to find the gronnd well broken up and ready for the orop. Martson How¬ ard had but amall funds at his command, and uo apparatus but heart, head, anil hands. Like that unappreeiated hus¬ bandman, the mole, he ran his galleries hither and thither, tuming up freah earth to air and light; when he heard the noise of the pickaxe, and knew that otherj were at work, he was satisfied, and turned his own apurse in a new direction.
Marion was rejoiced. But there was a question that would rise to trouble her,and would not be trodden down. These out¬ door interests did not argue a cheerful fireside;—^yet, there was an occasional co¬ vert allusion hardly perceptible to a less keen observer—to an impulse given by a woman—a dear friend—as by one lost; then again, evor at hand. Her memory traveled baok to the H ighland inn. Who who was that Mrs. Marston ?
General Maitland was in town in June, 1857. He used *a oane now when he walked, and had a habit of looking on the ground : his sight was not ao good as it had been. Thus, it came to pass, that as he mounted the steps of a clubhouse, to call on a friend, and opened the heavy glass doors he pushed against a gentleman coming out.
"Your pardon, sir'!" "Ah! Mr. Howard ! glad to aee you j have not met for many years."
Marston answered a few words, and then, pleading an engagement, the Gen¬ eral asked him to dinner next eveaing, at his club, and, bowing, left him.
To dine with Genoral Maitland w.-is an honor which Marston Howard would rath¬ er have declined : it would be disagreea¬ ble to him : but a voice stronger than in¬ clination, less severe than duty, prompted him to accept the invitation.
At sevon, therfore, precisely, for he did not desire a tete-a-tete, and knew hia host's military punctuality, Mr. Howard presented himself.
There were, beside himself, a brother offioer of General Maitiand's, a much younger man, and one on whom the eyes of Europo had rested;—a splendid soldier, and a quiet and courteous gentieman.— Also, his brother, a barrister, and a man of some literary reputation. The party was well assorted ; tho dinner excellent; the wines superlative. Conversation never flagged and was above the average. The varying ages-end professions of the com¬ pany averted the gossip, not to say scan¬ dal, which would inevitably have entered had all four been "old Indians." Be¬ yond inquirits after their host's daughter, no allusion was made to Miss Maitland. Marston listened for her name in vain.— He had not known how his heart longed for it.
That night, even as they sat over their wine, in the luxurious dining-room, came the earth-quake shock, that made the pulses of England's great heart stand still for a moment;—the horror that made tbe firm earth reel, and Europe sicken and grow pale.
And after the first reverberating blow, in the awful hush arose clear and shrill, and ever gathering force, the trumpet call to arms ! Justice and Mercy grasped one blade; every sword sprang from the sheath, and Britain's son'a went forth to | avenge her slaiii.
The notes of the reveille kindled the yet hot blood in the veteran's heart. He panted like a charger for tho din of the battie field. The next mail-steamer that left Southampton numbered Gen. Mait¬ land among her passengers. Oh ! what anxious eyes and throbbing hearts watch¬ ed that vessel leave the dock. Slowly at first, as if reluctantly following the little impetuous "tug;" then in the broad wa¬ ter, putting on her own vast energiea and steaming on alone. What priceless freight of br.ave hearts she carried; what love and prayers followed in her track, till the last cloudlet of her hot breath melted on the blue horizon ! And a woman, gen¬ tle and brave, waa with him.
I have none but you, father, take me," she said; "take me."
Fugitives flocked to the capital as boats to a harbor of refuge, from the black storm thundering in the rear. In that 'ferst agony of sorrow and dismay, hearts and doors were opened wide. And then the shattered fragments of the wreck oame drifting in.
Suffering and sorrowful, destitute and desolate, they came; was ever suoh a lazar-house of human woe ? And among them all, ono of a self-devoted band, bind¬ ing up their wounds, and pouring balm into their bleeding hearts, moved Marion Maitiand..
The Indiau moon shone broadcast on the deep river, flowing past the flowery lawns and sleeping country houses of Garden reach, on to the oity of palaces; lighting up Corinthian pillars and sculp¬ tured architrave, where the adjutants stood in line, motionless as sentinels ; sil¬ vering the bayoneta of the guard, and flooding with white light a lofty chamber in a stately mansion.
It glanced on polished mirrors and oarved furniture, and on a woman kneel¬ ing—a letter in her hand.
The veteran's sun had set in blood-red glory; and his daughter was left desolate.
She was urged to go home.
" I have no home," she auswered, sad¬ ly ; " why should I be hasted away from here, where I can be of a little use to some more lonely than myself."
So ahe stayed; and after the first bit¬ terness of grief was past, she returned to her self-appointed work. She remained at her post many long months. The na¬ ture of her work underwent a change, bnt it was atill arduous, aud sueh as not every woman woald have undertaken.
About this time sho wrote to Mra. Wil¬ mot : " I often dwell on the memory of •the tranquil life at Tremawr. Ontj last Christmas, and what a change ! Ithink some, of the mysteries of life have been solved to me since then. I now know [.wiy, to pqm^ ,pf ns is ordained'that long,
eat away the, very pith and marrow of our prime. Is it not that there awaits auoh a moment, a mere spasm, perhapa, of snoh intense exertion, that the foroes of a life¬ time concentrated into that space are but auffioient to provide the vital energy re- j qnisite for that demand ? How often do we chafe and fret to use our atrength— we feel lO atrong and eager to be up aud doing I But if we leave our atand till our name is called, when the bugle aummons us to work for which we are deatined, our littie force is spent, and we are nseless.— It is not flattering to our pride to learn that our boaated power ia after all ao weak, oapable of so little endurance, good for ao a^ort a time. GivQ my leva to Cissy.— Tell her not to complain of her time as ' lost in the school-room;' not to ask again the 'cui bono' of music, German, Italian, and all other things that she may have the happy privilege of learning. Ah! that' eui bouo I' hpw have I wearied my¬ self with that dreary question ? I used to preach to Cissy of these thinga, but I fear I wrought little good; my texts were but theories then. Tell her I have prov¬ ed them now. No knowledge, no expe¬ rience is lost.
" Many a time in this sad year I have been, oh! so thankful for my familiarity with German. So many sufferers of the middle class have eome under my charge —poor creatures to whom the sound of their mother-tongue, and the liberty of expression it restored to them, worked almost a eure. Think of the p»in of spelling out the griefs ofa bereaved heart in a foreign, unfamiliar apeeoh! And one Italian I ahall never forget. He had been a cook in a great hotel; his wife and children had been barborously murdered; His wife had spoken English, he knew no word of any language but his, own beau¬ tiful Tuscan. Oh ! if Cissy eould have seen that poor man's tears of joy, her hand have felt the kisses with which he strove to speak hia gratitude for the lit¬ tle aervice I waa ablo to render him, she would never begrudge the fow hours' trouble of preparing for poor old Signer Brizio's lesson.
" I have arranged to leave India before the next hot seaaon. It will be long be¬ fore I see dear England again ; ahall I ever have the courage to return to Tre¬ mawr ? Two friends with whom sorrow has united me yery olosely have persua¬ ded me to spend some months with thora in the south of Europe. The health of one will not bear our northern climate yet. I beliove that with them I shall be in the path of duty. You shall hear of my further plans.    Adieu!"
tience, as at aome tranaient annoyance, butaa if aome deeply-rooted sadness op¬ preaaed him.
Thero waa a aound of softly-fiiUing atepa on the atone staircase, and a timid knook at the door. To his hasty " come in," a lady entered, dressed in soft dark furs. Marston Howard rose and offered a chair, but she advanced.
" It is I," she said. " You do not know me !"
" Yes, I know you," was the answer spoken through the teeth. " Why aro you come ?"
" To fulfil my dear father's last com¬ mands."
And she held the letter toward him.
" Aye, obedient stiU !"
He repented the bitter words before they were well spokeu. With a grave but geutle inclination the lady returned to the door.
" Forgive me 1   Stay, 0, Marion!"
She led him to the chair by tho fira, and held a glass ofwater to his lips in silence.
" My Marion ?" he whispered, hoarse-
Iy-
" Forever!" was her low reply.
" And have you always lived in these dreary rooms ?" she asked, one day, after they had been talking long over the sad past and happy future of lovo and mutual confidence.
" Yes; my consin Marston and his good littie wife sometimes took pity on me."
" Then she was Mrs. Marston !"
EXECDTOE'S -NOTICB. Estato of Phoobe Miller, lato of Bart-twp , Lancaster County, Dec'd.   -
LETTERS testamentary on said estate bavlng been granted to tbe aaderiilgned, all p r. uuuB indebted ibereto ara reqnewled lo malce inimfldlalo settiemeat, and tboae bavlOK claime ur duniaodu egiiluut tbe same will prenent tbem wllboat delay to the onder¬ uigned, reeidlng In said tuWDstiip. Jan3t-6t-9 Wil. I. HAKfiSTRAW, Execntor.
EXECOTok'S NOTICE."
Estate of Jacob Spotts, late  of   Carnarvon
lownship,   deceased.
LETTJ'^RS testameutary on paid estate having bean granted t. lbe nnderi-tirned, all per- M-. lodebled tbereio are Teqnosled 10 malce immediate payment, and those hariog claim, or demaad.. anaiost lb., same will preseat thsm wiihoat delay ter settle¬ ment 10 the nndersigaed, reaiding In said townshtp. JAU£d UcCAA, janHl.St 9 Executor.
Toward the close of her rosidence abroad, Marion received from India a relic of her father's, which she greatly- valued —the General's old camp-desk. It had been lost in the confusion of a campaign, and accidentally recovered by an offioer— an old friend—who forwarded it immedi¬ ately to Miss Maitland. Many tears fell on the worn leather and yellow papers.
They were chiefly military memoranda and accounts which she could not decipher As she was closing  the desk again  her eye fell upon her own name in her father's handwriting.    She  drew  out the letter eagerly, trimmed her lamp, and sat down to read.    It was  evidently his   farewell written at intervals snatched from  rest. Some passages were not complete.    The last paragraph was dated the   eve  of  his last battle, and bore uo signature.    With what exquisite sensations of thankfulness and comfort' the   daughter  traced   those blurred lines!    He  repro.tched  himself bitterly with having ao often thwarted her wishes and subjected her to his own whims. He said his last days were embittered by the thought that but for him aho   would not be alone and without a protector. He asked her forgiveness for the pain he had inflicted. "But," he went on, "my daugh¬ ter will believe that I was sincere in my desire to secure her happiness.   I did not see in JIarston Howard then the man to whose keeping I could confide my trea¬ sure.   I judged him wrongly, perhaps.  I now see 1 judged him wrongly, and I ac¬ ted very harshly and despotically by you, my child.    Your patient endurance, your generous, entire  forgiveness, your sweet cheerfulness melted my heart.    I bless you, Marion, for all you have been to me; and if you are yet to be—as I pray you raay—the sunshine of another's horae, as you have been of miue, think sometimes when you are happy of your poor old sel¬ fish father, and forgive him all his faulta, for he loved you.
.:isk Marston Howard for his forgive¬ ness, too;   I would die in peaoe with all- "Tell M. H. that he will find my * * *
codicil "
Thc ants had destroyed thc rest of the sentence.
EXECnTOE'S NOTICE. Estate ofJohn Haber,late of Providence town¬ ahip, deceased. LETTERS 'i'estameutary on said estate having been graalsd to the aadersi{;ued all per- e..us indebled ihereto are rctoealed to uialce immedlal- sellleuoot, and Ihu.e having ciainis i.r demaaai agalob' the same wiil proaeal tbau   wiibont  delay   tur settiO' ment to tbe nadersigned, resldlcg in said tivwosLlp, CUblSTIAH BUBEB, lOBlib HOBiiK. dec 24-6t.S £xacaturs.
~ EXECOTORS' NOTICK. '
£atate of J10I.LV  011A>01', (AVidoiv,) latr of Monnt Joy towusliip, deceased.
estat
  _ . .   _.    .all per.
aul.. indbbteil iberetoare requeste'J t4i mske Immediate Iiaymenl,and those having demands eg'lust tb-same will presaat tbem tor Fettlemenc tu lbe undersigned, re¬ sidlug in said township. dec;:l.0t* AltitAUA.^I II. OOOU. Kxecutor.
LETTERS Te3t.imentary on said € having beeo grauted tu ttie uuderpii:ued,:
EXECDTORS' NOTICE.
Eatnte ol T. L. RUBEKTS, deceased.
^ LL persons having cluims against the
r\ estate off. 1- Kob.rla lale ut lbe city •-¦f L^tucas- ter. are bereby notified and reiiuired to pr-seot tb=m Co eltber ol'I he URilerai.,.ued executors o' Ihewiliof s-.l.l deceased immediately, and ib.'Se mjetited are reiiueNt- ed tu maku paymeul without delay lo
.\. i;. !iUi.i;i:rS Lancaster, A. '.". UJUKili'j, l-biti. doc 24-6t JixeeHl.irc
ADMINISTRATOR NOTICE.
Estate of Mathias Glanner, late of Salisbury
township, deceased.
LETTERS of admiuistration on said estate baviog been graated to the ondersigoed. all uvicuas iadebied theralu are reqnesied ru make Im¬ madlate seitlemei t, and those having claims ur de¬ maads Bgainst lba aame will picaeai tbem Wlthoa: delay for selliameat tu lbe nojei-iaoed, raslding lu said tuwaahlp. Bl'-SJ. F, WKaVSK,
Jan7'6t-7 Admial-iialur.
ADMIN1STR.\T0R3 KOTICE. Estate of 'William Beed, late of Fnlton towu¬ ship, deceased.
LETTEllS of administration on saiu esUite having bsoa granled lolhe nader-lgaed, au persona Indebled therelo are reqnesied to make im¬ medlale settlemenl,and those uaving claiuia ur demaods againet the eame will prnaenl Ibem wUbont de ay lur seltleoieatto the Qoderatgued.resiilicg le seld low. ship Jan 3-S.-6 HE.NKY UcVEV, *dm'r.
ADMINISTRATOR'S NOTICE.
Kslate of .\ltR,\UAM .tllLLbK,  late of the
City of Luncaster, deceased
LETTEllS of adiuiuistration on said estate havlD,c been icraoted to cbe utidetslijiiej a.. ,-rrsunB Indebted cnerut-j are requested lo inaile im¬ mediate paynient, add cttose baviug demande a^a.u.s the same will present ttietn lor seltlem..ut to the un¬ dersigned, residlua lu West I ampeter t-iwnship.
.MAltiA .niLLblt, Aduuuisiratrls. dec. 24.0;.
ASSIGNEE NOTICE. Asaigned Estate of Adam Mowrer and 'Wife.
e'IRAM MOWRER and OATHA- _ KIKE his wile, of West Lampeler t.wnship, bav¬ lug oy deed of volnalary aeslgamenl, daled Huv. 3J, 1661, asBlghed and tranatarrsd all iheii eataie lo the an¬ deralgned, residing in fruvidence lownnblp. In treat, tor tha beneflt of creditors, all persuDS lodebled to lhe said Blram Mowrer, are rrqnested to make paymeot withont delay, and those havlcg c'Hlma will pre.eat their accoaota properly antbeoticaied for settlemeoi lo decn-ei-4 JOdH STKOHM, Assignee.
I iW^^TtajiAiia'tf a«i«qPUfe';Unti«aia^ tooi'tyttel gaiSiVpwiod of iniotioq^ tiiit'B^ M
Thc dreary Marcli afternoon is drawing to a close. London is cold, and windy, and duaty, and cheerlesa, even, at thc West-End; far worse in the great barren squares inclosed with sooty houses, once handsome, but now more dismal even than their pert stuccoed rivals in the new quar¬ ters.
In the middle window of one of those faded grand drawing-rooms there stands a writing-table strewed with papers. The room is lined with books; books from wainscot to ceiling; books between the windows; books behind the door; books ou the tables; books under the tables.— Only one part is free from them. Above the mantle-piece and on either side are some choice engravings. By the fire¬ side is a well-worn easy-chair, and on a handsome Turkey rug iu the front of the fire lies a beautiful tortoise shell cat and her kitten. They were the only comfort¬ able-looking things in the room. The immediate precincts of the fire were evi¬ dently the drawing-room"—all the rest was "office."
A gentleman sat at the writing-table in the centre window, of whom it would have ] been difficult at the first glance to guess the age. Not old, by the firm set of the head on the broad shoulders and the vig¬ orous hand that rested clenched on the desk; nor young, for the hair on the tem¬ ples waa grey, and the lines of the face were deeply wom, the expression stern, except when a rare amile revealed the kindly Ught in the eyes. He had let the ink in his pen grow dry as he sat musing, his head ph hishand. Then he roosed himself wiUi something hetween a groan \ and ft Bigh-?^^ of vezatijon nor of ,ihipa-
CITy ELECTION.
N"0TIG-fc3 is hereby given to the free¬ men ot tlie City <if l.ttoci't-jr. thjt a^rueibiy to \a.\t,Ao ohcclou will b«haid on'XUESOAV.F^KKUaKV Sd, 1S<I3, lit the public bouBo of AUttm Tmui;. In ths North Werft Ward, fot fiv* persooi iiuaUflid t-i surve as mumbisra oCths lloufie ur U'prtxeuLitivt'K of ituK O'ci- monffpaith, to bs uemburK of tha dminon Couucil lur one year; and oue person quaiilied lo >>frtn as .\ la- la¬ bor oftha SeusttJ of tbis CtimmOQwytUh. to boa uit-mtier of the Reluct C<.tatiL-il ror tbu turm tit tbree years; aud oae petBon to Eervtt as Uity (;uuEt:tbIe ;'<>r oim year.
At lhu public hoUBB t.f Antbouy Ueaier. tu th« Nnrth Km' Ward, ftr four pflraoua niwhfioJ to serve no meci- tiers of the Iiouse of Keprr)^;iit:itiTtB ot tbu Cjiuuiod- wealth, to bd tat-mbt^rs of ttie uomuiou OouiicU tor ooo yejr; uad odo peruoa qu ilifidd tf* aerre as h on;ui6t;r o(* the (jenaw of this CouimouTcalth, Oi ba a m-scib:*.- of lha tieluct Couucil. li-r the t.-rui nfihre.* yeirs; ayd ouo person to serre a« City t.'oa«tilile for one y*-.\7.
At tho publfc hOMfM of leaac .¦illlrr. in tbo youth Ka^t Ward, for three p'.vs^an (]U:(iiti?a to Brrre as inemburs cf the IIjus^ of Hepion^iiutire.- cf this UoiamoDwe<h, to be memberH ot th'* cot:im m C.'iindt lor oao year; and oue pv:B>u yualifiud to perv« nn a. memberof the Senate of ihia Coramaiiwi-aith, to Im n, member of aelect Couiicii, (tbe t'outb l-I^-t Wanl aud South West Ward, io cunjunction. tL-ct our? aifmb.-rof Seleet Couucil.J Ijr tne t:;rni of three jears; aud ouu perflon t> narra as City Cmstahle iot ouu ye^r.
At thu puulio hou.^M of Aaion tiryff, iu th- :^.'uch West Ward, for three persouS n-jaliQifd to triv^ .is lufflibt-rs oftho tlousa of KepreseniatiTeS o." this OViJuuiouwiMltl). to be memwr-soi tbK Common .'ourjcil ftroaevi-ai; and oae ptTion to serTe us Cily Coiittable i',jr omt jear-
At the aaoiu time aid placp*. nlit bt< t-lei-tel onu v.:r- fipn to satxte as Ul^h CuUdUbla of IfattCiiy nt Lau:^\i^t, for oue year.
B3"Tbem«mh«rB of f eloct CouDBel nboeo terms of offlca expire on said d*T of Election, aro CharLrs JI. dowen.fFq.. Henry BUckeaderf«r. Safi-, aad Dr. Uea¬ ry Carpenter.
OEO. SANDIilt.-:OX, Mayor.
May.ie'h Office, Lwcast-r, Jaa. 13. lBu3.
CITY ELECTION. "VTOTICE is hereby given thatall Klcc-
J_li tloa wUl be held at thepubllc bou!<'* nf Alim Trout, Io the North WifHt Want; at the public hou-e of Amoa Groir. {a ih» South We.-t Waio; as the pnblic houseol Anthony Lechler. tn th» North Ea.*t War-1: at the public buuse of luac .Miller, la the Suuth Kant Ward. In the city of Lancaaler, oa TUH.-'DaV, fhBltUAKV 3. Ibei, btttw»en the hours of 8 oV!cck in thM foranoon and 7 o'clock In tbo m/t«roooo. tuflle'-i- one Jud^e aud two luBpector-ifitr lhe North Meal Ward, one Jud<e and two Inspecfors fjr tbe Soulh Weat Ward, oou Jud^a and two Inapectori fir the North \ ast VTjrd, one Judgo and two luspect irB fiir tha Houth Kast Ward, to conduct the general and other olectioui for the current y^ar.
Al the K&meUme and place will ba elected by tha cltiZBDBOf Lancaster, one AeseBhor In each Ward, to eerve for ona year. AI-o one Alderman in tha Korlh Weet Ward, to eerre for Sm years, in pNc* ot Edward Eanffman, who declined to accept bf^ commUulon, and one In the North Bust Waril to eerre for flrn years, in placa of Wm. B. Wiley, Vs^.. w-ho*s term of offlca ex¬ pires, and one in tba ."ontb West Ward.Io berra for Qra yeata, In place of C. F. Voight, E^q., whoge tarm of of¬ flce expires.
Tbe offlceru of tba laxt General Election ara requested to condacl Ihe abore election.
SAMUKL UUBKK, High CoiMtaHe.
L.iNCijTER, Jau. 13. ISW. [jtul7-td)
CITY ELECTION.
NOTICE ia hereby given thiit an Kleo- tlon »II1 be belj at ihe patillc hoj.e or id»iii Trout, in tlie Nortli West Ward; Bt tbo public bouae oi Amoe Oroff. Id tbe Soutb Weat Ward; at tbe pub- lie bouse of Aotbooy I ecbler, la tbe Nurtb K«at .. ard; at tbe publle bou.e i f laaac Miller, luthe Soutb Kaet Ward, in the city of l-anca.ter. OD [UbSi'AV. FI'.BIIU.aKY 2, 1863, between the houra of S o'clocic in the loreaoon and 7 o'clocli in tbe aftetnoon, to elect ono perieo (lUatiHed to act aa .Mayor of tbe City of Lancaa- 'ter for oue year. ObO. SA.NDEKSO.N,
MaroB'e urncz, Lancaster, Jan. 13,18ti3.J Mayor.
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Applioation. for  Tavem Licenses- January SeBSionB, 1863.
CONESTOQA TOVrdSaiP—Witllam W. Wooda.
tJ-All licensea not lifted within urieen dare aller being granted bT the Coart, will be forfetied accurdlog tolaw. "Allest: HEMKT 310SSBK.
jtn 14-81-8 Clark QaarUr tjeaalona.
Application for Bating House I.icen- aea—January Sessions, 1S63.
EUZABXTHIOWJl BOB.—Aua H. Hainioar. bCP* AU Ueuiaa not IUM wllbln Uteea days after Eiilu CWtal to lba Cout, wUiU lorttU.i tccordlog
J.M1MI-S ,,,,,1 .j^_qMj(,Qt^^^»a.«lons.