TERMS - `OF ADVERtISINt. One Square one Insertion, el 00 For each subsequent lnsortion. -- VorMo candle Advor tleements, Legal Notices Profee4lonal Cards avltbont - paper, Obituary bToti cos an,l Communic,- tlons rol tang to matte. sof pri vate haterests alone, 10 cents par line. c • JOB PAINTINGI.—Our Job printing Oilleo is the largest...and most complete establishment In the Donn y. Four gond Presses, and n general variety of material stilted for plain and Fancy Work en every kind, enables us to do Job Printing at the shortest notke, and on the roost reasonable terms, Persons iri*ant_of Bills, Blanks, or anything in Slid Jobbing line, will%find It to their Interest to give us a call. o grarni ihrforamtion. U. S. GOVERNMENT President —Arituipor LINCOLN, Vice PreEWOLIC-11ANNIIIAL HATILIN, Socrotatry of State—Wm. 11. SEINARry Secretary of Interior—JNo. Y. MOLE, Secretary of Treasury—Wn. P. FEENENDEN, Secretary of War—FDITIN M. ST ksToN, . Secretary of Navy—Climos {Y ELLEN, Poet Master (leneral—MuninomEnr BLAin, • ttorn,•v 17 0n0r31—. 1. :11w ITU. HATER. Chief J ustice of the United S ates—line En 13 TANEY i3TATE GOVERNMENT tiovornoi•—ANnilEw C. el. R 1 IN. Stier() Lary of :tate—Er.l SLIFER, Survoyor (lonoral—lomn 114 RR, cdltor Uenoral—lsk 1,1; r Attorney ileneral—Wm. I. )1I LI 0,11. Adjutant (lenoral—A I, Stain Tronsurer—lly: , ,ny n chtoriu-tic of the z , npremo 1%.111-111.0. W. Wow, IsAnn COUNTY" OFFICERS rresident Judge—Hon. James 11. ( - trillion]. Associate .Indgcs—llon. :Michael Cueltlin, lien Vogt Stuart District Attorney—J. W. D. Oillelon. Prothonotary—Sawuel Shirentan. Clerk and Recorder—Ephraim Cornnian, Register—Oen W. North. High Sheriff—J. Thootpsoo Itippcy. County Treasurer—floury S. littler, Coroner —David Stnith County Cointnicskrners—Michael Host, John 11 loy, 311tritell McClellan, Superintendent of Poor Moose—henry Snyder. Physician Jail-s)r. W. W. Physician to Poor llouse—Dr. W. W. Dale. BOROUGH OFFICERS Chief urgess-L'Andron , 13. Zio Assistant 13 al-gess—Robert Town Counc:l—Emt, Ward htt,hea rt. Joshua P. Bider, J. W. D. Gilliden. Geo, West Ward—tieo. L Murray, 't hos Paxton. A. Cath cart, Jn0.1.1. Parker, .Ino, I). I „ it Council, A. Cathcart, Chult. ti : silhy. High Constable :bun eel Sipe Ward Constable. Andrew Martin. Assossor—John C etsholl. Assistnot Assessors,Jus Nell, Gee. S. Bootem. Auditor—Robert D. Cameron Tax Collector—Alfred Rhineheart. Ward Colley tors—East Ward, Chas. A. Smith. West \\ aril, 'l' .e.. Cornman, Street Cominksioner, Worley B. NI attlit , w , .111:t keg Of the l'eare—.A. I. Spender, David Smith A brm. Dehuti, Tllchael Ilolcetub. Lntup Lighters—Chas. lt. 31e,,k, Jurnes Spangler, 11I! CHURCHES First, Presbytorian Church, Northwest antdo nl Cl.ll tre Square. Ito, Cnnway P. Win.: 1 . 3.4,,r.--, , rrylre ovary Sunday Morning at II o'rinek, A.. 11., and , o'dloctr - P: - . Second Pre,byturlan Church, corn,- or Sooth llnm Over and Poilitrot. Vev..1. , 1111 gurvl , ,, couruemo• ot. 11 o'dnol., A. M., and 7 0•e. , .1. p. M. 81. John's ChurolL(Pri.t. Episenpal) 11, 1 ,111'a:4 mist• of Centro Squa,”. Itvv. C at IL o'clock. A. M., sod Ii "'clock, r English Lutheran Church, Bedford, hell% non :slain tad I,uther streets. Rev. .10 ad, F, y, Sur- VICEIS at I l o',•int•lc .k. 11.. and (0 1. , ,k P. NI. Reformed Chun •h nvor and Pitt str,ts. Rev. S tri.l I'lllllo4, tlmrvices at IL •k A. and i.,„ t 11. 3lathodist Chn• i first. .•II or tip and l'itt Stnnits. Roy. I homes 11. -I), tt Pa•-: d Survices at II o'clool. A. 11., and 7d lora I' 11. Methodist 15. Church Ise cued elan ,e. , Rol.. S. I. Bowman, Push., M E. Chun h I. o'clock A. 111., and :114 P. 211. Church of Ood Chapel, South Wect ear. of Went St anal Chapel Alley. Roy. B. F. Deels, Panto . at 11 n, m., and 6 1 4 p.m. St. Patrick's Catholic Chu rod,. Pomfret Imo , . East el. Rev Pastor. Services every other cab bath. at In o'clock. Vespers at 3 P. M. German Lutheran, Church, corner of Pomfret and lied ford gtrents. Rev C. Fribm, Part• or. Son let•ii al 11 o'clock P. M. tkaWhen vhaoges hi the :thove are hn,ssary thn proper prsous are ruque,-treLl to notil) u DICKINSON COLLEGE Rey llortnan M. Johnson, D. D., Pre,i , l 211. i Pro feggnr at Moral Se!env°. IliAl C. Wilson, A. M., Profossor of Natural Suiepro and CurAtur u' the IA 111. . . . nil v. "WM% ol 1,. uo:= el I, A M., Professor of tin ()rook nod Gum in bang-nano., Satuuol 1/.11111m:to, A. )1., 1'10E: mor )I.ll.llonott tea. John K.: 1 1,1) . 11)ln, A. M., Proie,, of the 111 in nnd French Langna4es. Iton .I,non 11. tirrvhntn, LI, II . Pro toss,. of Low. Rey. Hoary Ches ion, A. II , Prlndpal the Gramonnr E.ehnol. John flood, Assktant in the (Ira moor School. rm.\ RD OF SCHOOL DIRECTORS' E. Corn ma n, Pri,ldent, .1:11111 , I:I mil ton, 11. Savo, It. C. NVoodward, Sect 'y ~1. \l*. Eby, Tre1,11.,„1,,12.1.-i liar, lesst.,,,,ct 11leet on thN Ist )1,,d3v ~t M.,,t11 at 8 o', Jock A 31, at Education 11311. ColtPoll.llluNs Dr.rovlT 11,0 Z —Pre-Mont, It. \f. Hender. son, It' 31. Iteetem I'..h .1 I'. II L...ler and C. 11. l't.dhler Tellers, IV. 'I. I . ltbler. n“. Undei Woo , l )1 es Fenger Dine:tors, It 31. Ilendku,en, I're,blent Ii C. Woodward. Skiles NVoodburn, .1 0 1 1 , 1 Zug, IV. W. Dale, Julio It, .1, J no. Stuart, jr. N vrt it ‘,l.—Pre,i 1.41. Samuel Hepburn Cashier. Jos. C 11,1:ter, 'fell. ~ Abner B I Ind!, Ilrs so r/gor, Jesse ItrOWn. IVIII. her, lohn Dunlap. Icirk%l Woods, John C. Duul.tp, .sate I:renneman, Jelin S Sterrett, Saml, Hepburn, Di rev t or!, C(1)111i.n.l..1 , 0 VALLEY It ,11.10,11 Frodorlck lVatts: :7.eorut..ll . ud I 1 . 03,11 t cr. I . ;.l,:titi M. 1114/.11, trail. throe Lilo., a day. C.,, .10,../1.111.. /It I 4 5n East want, le.tveA f,1.) 1. 11 . urns ins et 1100., 6.2111'. 31. Th1,.,i41k 10.10 A. 31. and 2 42, I'. M. 11 ushs.,nd al 9.27, A. :11.. I' 31. CARLISLE. GAS AND 1V111:11 CoAle N President, li n t not Toad; Trasurer, A. Sit io tteo.Gell, George %Viso: Directors, Watts, l{• t ,,. II E. M. floury Saxton, 11. C. Woodwind, J. It . l'attou, Gurdour and b. d, Croft. SOCIETIES Cumberland Star Lodge Nu, IoT, A. V. M. meats at Marlon Call on the 7ml and .Ith I'4uo.la) of et eiy mouth. St. John's Lodge No. 260 A. V. :if. Moots 3d Thurs. day of each month, at Marlon Hall. Carlisle Lodge No. Ul I. 0. of U. F. Meets Monday °Toning, at Trout's founding. Lotort Lodge No. 63, I. 0. of G. T. Moots every Thursday °veiling in Itheencs Hall, 3d story. FIRE COMPANIES Tho Union Fire Company was organivmd in 1760. House in Louthur. between Pitt and HA UOVur. Tbo Cumberland Flre Company was instituted Feb 1800, Hunan in 13adford, butwoeu and Lou,i re . 41, Tno Gond Will Vire Company was lirstltuted in March, 1855. House in Pomfret, mar Ilanover, Tho Emplro oud Ladder Colnpany was institu tad in Vita Ilouso in fill , near Main. , RATES OP POSTAGE Postage on all letters of one half ounce weight or ender, 3 cents pre paid. Postage on the It ERA LD•ae Rhin the County, froe. Within the State 13 cents per annum. T. , any part of the United Status, 211 cents Postage on all Iran „cleat mom 2 cents per ounce. Advertised letters to be charged with cost of advertising. /Lh YG7 CONMERCIA.L COLLEGE. Inetitutitln_ia.~~uin enp_en - ed and reorganized, with a full Corpis of Todefiiiiii"and . increased facilities at Carlisle, P. Young men per mit us, to make a direct appeal to you In behalf of that which should claim your first consideration. In the words cit that honored and talented statesman Henry Mein Yoxing man prepare yourself for businesa"— This, is emphatically a business InlititOon. livery Student is hero taught originate and conduct all the 3ooke it'd Forms pertaining to actual business,—thus bringing theory into prat:lice, and thereby having them purple the regular routlnonf the Counting-house. COURSE OF INSTRUCTION Doub'e,Entry Book-keeping In Its various forms and opplicatlone, including general 'Wholesale - and Retail lousiness, lousiness', Forwarding, Commission, Exchange, Jobbing itnd Importing, Railroading, Steamboating, Banking, Commercial CalculatiOns, Penninnallip in every style of the art, Phonography, &c. .Clergymun's note enter the 4chtini it half the regular rates. Night school &dm 7 to 0 Ver . further particulare call at the College ROOMS, (Rheem's nulhling) or address Send for a Woolar 30, 0,18,(4-13t .' i4 OOII.MAN'S...v.IKY,I'OGRAPiIiC -- .. GALT.doty. . - '. ,_ ,_ ~ ' 'b n area, opposite the Nationtil Bunk, in IIre: Noff'e • building. . . .. • .. .., • . •. . , July. 22,1804-Iy . : . . , .,. . • -, 1 . , • -- , - , . :. — R,IIINCB & CO's. well,lcia . oivn MELO • •-'• • xiEbNs andIIA.R9ION,IDUS, Introducing tlio of ''..fee of.patd.bass on.oVer.Vinatrument. • • ' •- DA • aLESt.CLABLEIV.S__,..;_ .L- --'- RAVEN & DACON'S and ' ' ISALLET, DAVIS, & Co., oolobratodPlANDS for cash ' ifd.llbeinrddatiatlbn. • • . , . Solo 00 ,080 sold. ' 1.*16:43" ' JAIVES BEI,LAK, S Agora,. , . . 279 , 281 0.,F1111L.4r00t, abovo epruce, :- 00L . 1.C1804-91007 "-- ' rbkladeyila, 124 25 00 4 00 I 00 We had lived more than a month un der the same roof befae I mot her; bu without having seen her face, withou having heard her voice, it seemed tome, in some way, that I kne'i'v Amelia Wes ,on intimately. Night after night, when I came home tired to my lodgings, and used to sit, idly gazing in the fire, and thinking over my day's work, the same patient hand at the same hour would be gin its practice, and continue it--I knew not till what hour of the night long atter midnight certainly ; for once or twice, when I returned from the theatre luuween twelve and one o'clock, a light still burned in Miss Weston's room, Miss Weston's piano was still "going," as the servant of the house termed it, when, in li - deprecating way, she apologized to me for the nocturnal habits of my fellow lodger. - I don't think I ever heard a more sym athetic touch than hors. Under ordi nary circumstances, a professional person practising of an evening, for four or five hours at a stretch in the room immediate ly beneath you, is not a thing to be de sired ; but in whatever mood I was, how ever tired, however depressed, this girl's playing soothed me: yes, whether she played a common-place set of quadrilles or waltzes, or woiked at, over and over and over again, a passage in some exqui sitely graceful little reverie or nocturne of her own composition: { think it must have been the delicate finish, the sense of unwear3ing patience in all she did, that gave so infinite a pathos to her per formance, for she was not at all a fine, nor even, I dare say, a good second-rate musician, At all events, awl however it [night have affected higher udge4, her Playing touched we singularly ; and sit ing, as I have said, alone of an evening, ?zing weariedly at the fire, and listening o her, I used to often think : "Patient irtist, whomsoever you may be, I know von and feel with you. Work, hope do 'erred, courage, scant acknowledgement of your claims. You and I speak the snore language. Our ways in the world lie wide apart, and yet are our feet treading the same long and uphill road Patient artist you and 1. are akin." I felt this, and liked to indulge the feeling; and, fancifully, to make out Miss Weston'.; history, and even the color of her eyes aud hair ; but I purposely ab stained from seeking to meet her, or even ro ask any question regarding her from the servant of the house. I was old e nough to know the value of wly pr,?,t ty little riney that my brain Wight amuse itself with, and wise elluilgh not to court disillusionment, even in the most unim portant things of life. No doubt, it' L came to know this neighbor who charm ed me so in the spirit, L should find her, in the flesh a common sort of young wo man enough, with large hands and de fective aspirates, who would give me a card setting forth lice abilities us profes sor of music, and request me to recom mend her among my friends. The se- (Jet uf retaining a sentiment of interest in our fellow creatures is to imagine !Duch, and know little concerning them. Let my patient follow-lodger remain unknown to me, even by sight, -that so I might be able to listen to her playing with pleasure, even if we remained under the same roof for years. A friendly hand, a congenial familiar wind, woul,l speak to me every night, just as long as the artist herself remained invisible—no longer, probably. But I was wrong. I saw poor Amelia, and my vague intangible interest became one of the strongest I have felt at first sight, and for an utter stranger, It hap pened thus : Two or three friends were . dining with me one December night—a bitter snowy night it \v.:Ls, I remember— and knowing wo should, be late, I sent the people of the house to bed, promising to see myself to the fastening of the street door when my friends left me. I did so, considerably after midnight ; and then having a heap of papers to wade through, and feeling no inclination for sleep, made up a blazing fire, and sat myself down to work. About an hour and a half later— at half past 2 A. m., that is to say—l whs startled by bearing a ring at tho front door bell. "Well, I sat up," I thought. "Hero is one of the second-floor lodgers dependent don his latch key, and care fully bolted and barred out by my hand,"' And wishing to save the delinquent alike from the bitter cold of the night air andi from the land - lady's wrath, should he ring again and rouse her. I lit my bed room candle, ran quickly down stairs, and opened the door. Tlia ghest of a girl's . faCe met my sight. "Thelateh was down, and I was obliged to ring.', said a 'hearse, tired voice. I hope I haven't kept any ono up"—and then the gir) started back on • seeing a stranger, and the blood rushed up via lently into her,deat,b' White oheettl,, "1— 'I beg your pardon, sir," she stammered. "I have been . .attending n party; and it was so near, I ran home on foot. Susan - forptr - Iwatrout,l - suppose, and put the hank down." And then she begged 'my .parden with'- a , kind,:nriningled pride aild humility that ,Otkeheq,'mu more . than I 9e:sq... • A. M TRIMMER, Cal Halo, Pa VOL. 64. RHEEM & WEAKLEY, Editors & Proprietors EiVIIIITUMIB. (From tho Englishwoman's llingazinigi THE CAPTAIN'S WIFE (111iot':tlii),11 . ', - This, then, was my patient unknoim artist. The roll of music that she hold in her trembling ungloved hands, her plain black dress, hs o r desperately tired face, would have told me her story in a moment, even if she bad not made use of the words "ixttcnding a party." This was my patient artist; and she had been do ing about the 'dreariest work—picking oakum perhaps excepted—that woman's hands are called upon to do : "playi❑g" for a dance. Anything so haggard as her face, I do not remember ever to have seen. Her features looked drawn and old (she was about two-and-twenty,) great histre circles made her dark eyes look un naturally large and melancholy; her poor little fragile hfinds had the inexpressible nerveless look of utter bodily prostration. When 1 had shut the door and lighted a candle that was placed ready for her at the bottom of The stairs, I remarked that I hoped that her fire was still alight. On such night as this, a cup of hot tea or cof fee was the best. thing to take on coming in out of the cold; and I was just going to offer to make her one at my own fire, when she interrupted me, with a tone of infinite gentleness, and yet that instant,- ly told me she did not require my help. "Susan is very thoughtful, and always puts everything ready, if I like to make a fire; but to-night I am really not cold, only tired" (tired ! God knows she was that,) "wanting sleep. Good night, sir, and thank you very much for coming to let me in." And then she took her can dle from my hand, and with a pretty little gestuire, very friendly but not without a certain pathetic dignity, poor chili I bade me good-night, and passed off into her GERM By eight next morning she was giving a lesson to a pupil, the only house pupil she had, who mune to her three times a week at that hour, because Miss Phillip:, our landlady, did not like anything "pro fessional" going on under her roof. "I would have nuntibned to you, sir, that we had a professional lady in the house," said Miss Lucinda Phillips, lin gcring after depositing my weekly bill up on the breakfast : table, and evidently wish ing to explain away the occurrence of the night. " I should have n entioned our having a professional person in the houso when you took the apartments, only that we knew Miss Weston's habitsare so quiet that she isn't likely to disturb tiny one. As to liar troubling you last night, It was the merest accident, I can assure you, sir Sh e was playing for a young people's par ty; and as the night was dry, and the dis tancewas so short, thought she might as well save her cab fare by walking home. I told her how imprudent it was, this morning, and she regrets as mach as lily sister and I du that you should have had the annoyance of opening the door fur r." The Misses Phillips were sisters of mid -- dle'age and staunch propriety, and their establishment was a private house—that is to say, a card printed "Apartments" was always kept in the stationer's window round the corner, not their own, when their rooms were vacant. How did the Misses Phillips, residing in their own pri• vate house—a portion of which they hap pened to find too large for their own use, they said—come to take a " professional" person under theirexclusive rue! I hazard ed the surmise, delicately, to M iss Lucinda, and after sonic hesitation, and, it is un necessary to add, not a little superfluous verbiage, got at the romance, such as it Was, of my fellow-lodger's life. In the first place, she was a married wo man ; only her husband being a gentleman of family, according to Miss Lucinda, and so, of course, averse to anything profes. glottal, it was considered beat fur the pres ent that she should retain her maiden name, In the next, she had a child, whom She maintained with some poor re lations of her own in the country. And lastly, it was evident—though, true to the insticts of her sex, Miss Lucinda at heart was quite upon "the captain's" side— that most of the results of those patient hours' work, hose early lessons, those midnight vigils, went to support an idle, dissipated husband, who neglected and affected to be ashamed, of the faithful hands that worked for him. "It's been an unfortunate story alto gether, sir," said Miss Lucinda; " and though I don't deny that the captain's gay, and goes about to races and such things, and spends every•farthing he can get out of her on himself and his own pleasures; still, every one must allow it is a hard thing for a gentleman of family to be brought to see his wife work. He says himself he'd never had to leave the army,, if he had not married, perhaps he wouldn't; but as it is it took all her little fortune of two thousand pounds to pay his debts, and as he *as obliged to 'aell his commission, to save himself froni go ing to jail, I can't say that I think it was altogether his wife who ruined him.— However that may be, ruined lie" , was. His friends--and he's got the verthin•oli • cornectionsLa . 'efused to help him any more; and Amelia, with a I.oy six weeks old, and very weak in her own health, ,was' thrown, you may say, ( 4 o6 the-world; for the captain",imor gentleman, he was so cut up'atiout it ail,.that he went off a broad with what little money he had—to Dation, I think it was--for the summer. CARLISLE., PA., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 0, 1864. It was then Mrs. Fitzgerald took to mu sic as a profession. Her own friends were too poor tolielp her much as to money, but from one to another they recommended her as a teacher and when the captain canie home at the end of a twelvemonth ) he found her maintaining herself and the • baby too. "Well, sir," proceeded Miss Lucinda, pathetically, "of course, it was a great come-down—a very great come-down for a gentleman like hip) to.,fird - his wife go ing from house 'to hoUse as a music mis tress ; but, bit by bit, she brought him round to consent, provided—poor fellow! —that she would take her maiden name again, so as to run no risk of disgracing him or his connections; and this she has done from that, tiwe, about two years ago, till now. The way she came to live with us was this : as she got on in her teach ing, it was found a disadvantage fir her to live in a poor part of the town, and through the recommendation of a friend of the captain's—for he quite keeps up with a number of the best society still— my sister and I were induced to let her our smallest down-stair set. The lady who recommended her hadn't an idea that the young person she was befriending was the captain's own wife, nor had we either, of coarse. But the first tune she came, poor thing, she called my sister and me into the room, and told us the whole story. She had been advised not to do so, she said, but she would not live in our house a day and deceive us; Captain Fitzgerald was her husband. Ile was a bove her in birth ; and now that she was obliged to earn her bread, they thought wiser for a time that she should take her maiden naive again, especially' as the captain's London friends believed her to be dead. 'But I am not dead,' she said, tryin. to smile, and then ending by bursting; in to tears. I'm his wife; and some day, when I am richer, we shall live tiTet her again, and have our own house.' And then she told us about her child, sir, [IA how it would be brought to see her, if we would allow it sometimes, and gave us references if wo wanted to ascertain the truth of her story, which we've nev er done, or wished to du," added Lucin. da, warmly. "The next time the captain called, my sister told Lim that she was aware how matters stood, and the captain behaved most beautiful, sir Miss Lu cinda almost wept. " And he took toy sister's hand, fur he's no more pride than if he was nothing—and his first-cousin an honorable, and his aunt married to a peer or the reahu—and said he should always look upon us both as sisters, and that. he recommended his dear Amelia to our sa creel care. Till thy) We 11,1,1 our doubts as to keeping the young person, fur char ity is one thing, and rospeetability's ;moth er ; hut the moment the captain spoke KO 110110ratde., we felt what our duty was, and we've kept to it. His wile might owe us a twelvemonth's relit, and neither I nor .nly sister would so nine:). as name it to her. Poor gentleman: we knu\ ourselves what it is to be reduced in rank.'' imittircd what the captain was lit-e, as I should wish to reco , ,rnize him if we ever met. and was zin , wered by an ecstatic catalogue of male charms from )liss Lu cinda. Captain Fitzgerald was, she averred, the gentleman all over, had long fair whiskers, an eye-glass, stood six feet one at least, without his boots, and had quite a military air. "And how he dresses so, poor gentlemen, I don't know !" added Miss Lucinds, mysteriously, "for he says he's always unfortunate in bets and cards too, aril that none of his friends ever help him with a sidling.— However one thing's certain, Mrs. Fitz gerald is taking much more money since she has takon to play at balls. Ten shillings a night, as the says, is princely pay compared to lessons." I was at a little Christmas evening party a few nights later, at the house of one of my oldest friends, and in the hired musician of the evening, I recog nized my fellow-lodger. In her Cinde rella black dross, and with her pale, worn-looking face, the brave little wo man seemed fairer to me than any of the flushed, wreathed, and white muslined angels of the party. Her physique had tho.same character as her playing. Beau ty of feature she had not; but there was a look of quiet strength about the clear cut lips, an expression of power in the deep-set iron-grey eyes, which riveted one strangely and instantly to her face. And her hair in itself was a beauty ! Such a mass of naturally waved golden-brown hair as it was, drawn with careless grace from her broad forehead; and twisted in a rich coil around': the little classical head. There were many lovely Parisian wreaths, no. doubt, and a great- deal of levely Parisianhair worn by ,twenty or thirty'young ladies in my friend's draw ing-rOpm, but none of the female caffures there ‘Seem&d to ine,at all to compare with poor"Amelia'-s simple bands of wav ing gold. , • Did her . Ibuiband think so totif,- :I wonder. Tor, reader, leer husband'WaS 'there—Otero, dancing to hiS num . ' le; ns: unconcerned-a:floc:4On you.eyor saw in your life,. I was standing closo'beside the piano when Captaiu ,Fitzgerald's narnei . wary ` an nounced; • and for an instant 1.. noticed that the time varied ominously in the waltz Amelia was working under. Then she rallied—l imagine it was not the first meeting of the kind between this husband. and wife—and played on, stead ily an4without flagging, through the re- Maindl of the twenty-one dances. Only { once I saw her eyes fixed upon her husband's face. It was in a gallop; and Captain Fitzgerald was dancing with a tall and stately young woman, all floating,fn innocence and white tulle, and iii'OWded with roses—Miss Barbara Ashton, the belle of the room. Just as they were whirling past the piano, it oc curred, I concluded, to Miss Ashton that the music was not fast enough for her taste, for she looked up softly into her partner's face, and then requested him to "bid the youtig lady amend her time. ,, And her partner obeyed her. He stopped, leaned forward (with that. ur banertir of which Miss Lucina had spok en) add said: "A little faster, if you please," his arm still encircling the lovely Barbaio Waist. And then!Amelia looked at him, Heaven grant no woman may ever look at me with eyes like those ! And still, ptior child, it was a look of love I went up, later in the evening, to the lady of the house, and carelessly men lioned—the captain's name. Who was Captain Fitzgertild, and had they known him long? 1 did not rememberseeing him at any of their parties before. "Well, in a certain way, we have known him a long time,'' she answered. "Ile was in the same regiment, you knots, as my brother Frederick, and that brought him a good deal about our house when we were living at Brighton and the —th was stationed there. 'What he has been doing fin• the last two or three years, nobody knows. lie gut into terrible dif ficulties some time ago, had to leave the army, and went wrung altogether—made a low marriage, in short—but as one sees imsi out 'gain, known', and alone, !nest likely his wife is dead or has left him. Captain Fitzgerald is not at all a man I admire, or would encourage about my daughters," she added; "but he lanced' so beautiful that Alice would have him invited, and as we met him at the Da;cres' last week, it shows there can be nothing very, very wrong about him now; for you know old Lady llacres' is so iarticular about these matters." 1 left• London lato on the afternoon of the next day, as I was getting into my cab at Miss door, had a kind little farewell nod from Amelia. her usual pale Ewe was all lit up, and flushed with smiles; a sturdy, yellow haired boy had got, his arms tight around her neck ; and the silhouette of the cap tain's profile—long whiskers, eye-glass, tutu! all—was dimly deseernable behind the window-curtion. It was New Vear's day ; so L concluded that this excellent man was rem!ering his, wife supremely happy by condescending to cat his turkey and plum-pudding In that humble room. Would Amelia have loved him better, had the captain been on honest man ? a plain, hard-working, simple-hearted fel low, denying himself to keep her and her child in (-mono, solving day after day, night after night—as I have known some to do—and considering himself amply rewarded if, by any extra work of his he could satisly her caprice fbr a new silk dress, or a trip to sea, or a velvet suit Ibr the child ? I am not able to answer that question satisfactorily; I only know how well it is fbr men that there arc so many Awe lies in the world, How Authop Write Most authors write under the influence of excitement, of some kind—a cup of strong tea, coffee or some other stimulant. Sometimes, narcotics are used for the same purpose. The general impression that a writer can step into the nearest grocery, and dash ofF his thoughts on a barrel head (as Napoleon on horseback, is said to have written military despatches on his knee) is altogether wrong. Mind, we don't say this is the ease with all; but with most authors, it is true—and facts in the lives and histories of the great and gifted in all tithe, sustain the truth ,of this state ment. Some anthers never feel like writing, unless when seated in a particular chair, or room. Some prefer solitude; while Others, better able to abstract -their thoughts, can write amid the noisest sur roundings. Some peruse a favorite author before putting pen to paper—thereby magnetising themselves, before attempting to maguetiso others. , Gray, author of the famous " Elegy 'in a Country Church yard," it is said, never sat down to corn posla ally poetry without previously read ing 'the works of Spenser. Similar stories are told of Ciecro„Corneille, .Racine,-and Milton. When Bossuet, the, eloquent French clergyman, had to compose a fu neral oration, he was accustomed to retire. .for"several,days to his study, ,to lieruse - the -pages of Homer, 'Alfieri' says ":11 7 most all my tragedies .wore ,tiketahed in my mind either iu the not ,of hearing mu or-a-fow-honraLliffir2L—Lorii_Bacon_ had Music often - played in, the ropmad joining his ,study; and Milton listened to,-his organ for his solemn inspiration.' , Massil ton the celebrated French preach.. r 4z , ~,a) er, was once found playing on a violin, ' to screw his mind up the proper pitch, preparatory to a sermon he was to preach before the court ; Haydn would never sit down to compose without being in full dress, with his groat diamond' ring, and the finest paper to write down his musi cal compositions. Rousseau has told us. when occupied by his celebrated romance, of the influence of the rose-colored knots of ribbon which tied his portfolio, his fine paper, his brilliant ink and his gold sand. Similar facts are related of many A famous Italian author, who was sub. jeot to violent bursts of passion, used to oalm his feelings by filling his mouth with candy and confectionary! And Men delssoh, the great composer, when suf fering from excessive intellectual exer tion, often rested his mind by counting the tiles on the roof of his neighbor's housl. Such facts show bow much art has to do with the government of our houghts Some writers darken their apartments to concentrate their thoughts. Ono of the greatest historians America has pro duced, is now in the daily habit of retir ing to his closet, at midday, lighting his candle, and thus pursue his studies and investigations during this artificial night. A secluded and naked apartment, with nothing but a desk, a chair, and a single sheet of paper, was for fifty years the study of BulTon; the single ornament was a print of Newton placed before his eyes—nothing broke into the unity of his reveries. Cumberland's livliest comedy, the "Western Indian," was written in an unfurnished apartment close in front of an Irish turf-stack. Ile wished to have nothing distract his attention, and therefore always avoided pleasant rooms, and brilliant prospects• We might men tion hundreds of situilar cases. Poverty, ambition, and love of fame, no doubt, often operate as stimulants to authors. Writers, in-this respect, are very much like other fulks. Sometimes they feel like work, and then their thoughts flow freely. Every thing comes easy to them. Sometimes they feel dull and dis pirited, and then the slightest effort seems a task. Nothing they do suits them; and, like spoiled children, they destroy their works as soon as completed. This is more or less the experience of all authors and writers. We have it from the lips of hundreds. Fanny Fern, one of the readiest and wittiest ancfnext door , to Mrs. Stowe, perhaps, the most popular and successful writer of our day—not long since made the same remark to us, an item in her own expevience.— The best and most popular writers, are not always the readiest. In a majority of cases, the most successful arc those who patiently elaborate their thoughts. One would think, an author might push his pen as last as he could speak. True. But in ordinary conversation, we common ly employ a superabundance of words— a grievous fault for a iter, but well e- nough fur a newspaper editor, who usually " does up," things in a hfirry, and whose paragraphs are supposed to be forgotten as soon as the newspaper is laid aside.— speaking of the beauties of editing, an experienced brother editor, in a recent letter to the Philadelphia Register says, "At present, I ard in the country, recov ering from fourteen years of editorial life —bad eyes, crooked back and broken nerves, with little to show for it." Atlanta After its Capture Correripondent of the Dorton Journal. All along this street—Marietta—and this neighborhood the cottages and ouses bear the marks of our cannoned- ing. The smaller houses and some of the larger ones have their chimneys built on the outside. These are often badly battered, while broken fences, roofs, piazzas, huge rips and ordinary sized cannon holes in the sides T qf the build ings, in every conceivable part, all attest that war in its most earnest temper has been waged in and around Atlanta. In the bosiness part of the town and in the west end, thre does not appear to have been much damage done. One block was burned down; the foundry buildings and the large engine house— one of the finest in the West—had their roofs somewhat injured ; but, on the whole, one is astonished that, with such a long cannonading, so little permanent injury has been inflicted on the town.— Fifty houses, however, iu different parts of the city, were burned to the ground by fires kindled by our shells. We walked through the town on the morning after rour arrival. It spreads over a large space, and outside of the business district, the houses are wide en ough apart, having gardens, or rather grounds, around them, to insure a tole rable degree .of` protection to property against the‘fiercest- bombardMent. The wide streets and open spaces took the Shells very good-naturedly, and have no reoolleotion of their visits . . • Tho demol ished liiiki-pasts and' shade -trees shat .terodolone remind ono that somothing Ints,happened out of the Ordinary way of business in tho,stre4s tlionnielvez. G OPHER , 11.0113 What ar© those red. mountains in the gardens ? Gp ' nobody will queetiou your right , to . do an ro r body ii 3 out of town, or getting re.ticiy ,to TERMS:—S2,OO in Advance, or $2,50 within the year. go, and the few who remain will not dare to order you to halt. They are either friends who have not gone North yet, or rebels who must leave within twenty sour hours, or contrabands who mus leave within .twenty-four hours; or con trabands who like to be called Yankees, or "Constitutional Urtion men," Nyho pre fer to seek new' homes in the free States and Canada, to risking their lives, and property again in the Confederacy, which they still hope to see an independent na tionality. We went into two or three of the gar dens to examine the red mounds of earth. They call them gopher holes. Whenev er the shelling began the women and other non-combatants who could do so, left their houses and ran into them for safety. They are holes dug in the ground, boarded up, and covered several feet deep with earth. You descend into them by steps, which are dug on the side from which the shells do not come. They 'are seven or eight feet in height or depth, and about four in width, and will hold— those we saw—from six to a dozen per sons. TI ey have a flooring and rude scats beneath to sit on. An air-hole and the stairway afforded ventalation to the fresh air. If a shell falls on the roof and ex plodes it. does no one any harm. They are living graves. Perhaps you may have seen a picture of them, labelled "Cave life in Atlanta,'' in Frank Leslie's lllustruted .Netesprper. If so, I despair of giving you a correct picture of them, until you forget that engraved and men dacious lie. We saw others dug in _the hard clay embankments of the railroad: They are first dug straight in a few feet, and then suddenly turn to the left. As I have not spoken yet with any one who lived in them, and will not adopt Frank Les lie's mode of supplying a lack of facts by an abundance of fancy, you must imagine fur yourselves the amount and degree of comfort likely to be found in these sub terranean abodes. Never may the wives and daughters of New England have to seek such places of safety ! I think if some friends that I have in Boston were to see the battered houses and the gopher boles here, they ,would be far less ready than they now are to wish for a war with England or France as soon as the present strife is ended. Atlanta once seemed far less likely to need such caves than Boston and its sub nits would do in case of a great foreign war. THE BUSINESS DISTRICT Although the business district of At lanta was but slightly injured by the bombardment, it affords a sadder illustra tion of the effects of war than even the gopher holes of the shattered dwellings. The streets were never more thronged than now in the brightest days of its pros perity ; but every store is empty and de serted or tenanted only by military men —by the commissaries or the quarter masters, or the regimental pust offices. Atlanta was a city with a settled popu- I ition of at least fif:een thousand, and refugees from various States had more than doubled its inhabitants since the war began—such, at least, is what some of the , leading citizens say. It was the Yankeest place in all the" Yankee States of the South," as the Georgians some years ago loved to call their country. It was a thriving, driving city—for the South. It was the terminus of several railroads. Its business blocks, depots, and foundries, and round houses, would have done credit to any Massachusetts town ; and now .? There are two hotels in operation, several barber shops and embalming the dead—and that is all, ab solutely ALL—the business, now carried on outside of governmental control, un less one excepts the Adams Express Com pany, and also tho Sanitary Commission, which has at length been permitted to have two agents hero. The Government is running the foundries, and evcrthing else except the churches, and these will probably soon run out by expulsion of their congregation under the recent stern and rigorous order of General Sherman. The depots are lined with refugees and their household goods, patiently waiting to move North—into "God's country," as our soldier boys patriotically and ro3tieally call the North. I would not guess that there are over a thousand citizens left in Atlanta, in eluding those who have aceopted Gov• eminent work, and their families. There are quite largo numbers of blacks, but every ono of them is employe4 in the commissary and quartermaster's depart.. ments, and the recruitment of them jeal ously prohibited by the, military author ites. The streets are thronged with men on foot . and on horseback—but they are, are nearly all in uniform. Not 'one' per. ,cent. are clad •ei azens *The larger part,of the dwellings are ,ejther open or empty, or occupied as the head ,quarters.of, the °Moors the , different .departmonts, • • , '• • -•'! THE , DEFENCES. I, We'walked' along tho railroad to sod the dofenees. Military men speak of: then': with great :admiration, totY • tlfht'it wiiuld have boon utterly impossible fife aitY;hy!stermi or , hideous • saorlilee • Theta ,are: three . lines of .. , nroilnowhieh ~ arO said to extend without it break all around the city.- They are- twenty-two miles•inleth." The Middle limo is very strong, aud, at short 'diattinees,. are well'lMitt and strong to to which sweep every approach to them.SoMo of them were mounted . with six and eight guns of heavy calibre: .. thevaui. de frit,— long trunks of trees, with, spokes . extending three or four feet both sides of them, so Alla turn them as you would, tfteir spurs opposed you—are "placed in front Of them'; and .out side these, again, are felled trees, to' arrest and baffle the march of the most desperate assailants. Some sixty guns in all, of. dif ferent calibres, were captured, but their:car riages were burned and they were spiked:". I saw some of them. They belonged,. When they wore made, as they now belong, to "IL 5.," as their undefaccablo imprints attest.: But our large army and our able general ship made all this vast work- of 'no avail ;" their parlor Wil9 skilfully constructed, but we would not walk into it until we forced the mammoth military spider to leave. NO, 40. One who saw John Hancock in Juno, 1782, relates that he had the appearance of advanced age. He had been repeat edly and severely afflicted with gout, pro: bahly owing in part to the custom of drinking punch—a common practice in those days. As recollected at this time,• Hancock was nearly six feet in height and of thin person, stooping a little, and apparently enfeebled by disease. , Ria manners were very gracious, the style of a dignified complaisance. His face had been very handsome. Dress was adapt; ed quite as much to the ornamental as useful. Gentlemen wore wigs Whop a broad, and commonly caps wh'en at home. At this time, about noon, Hancock was' dressed in a red velvet cap, within which was ono of fine linen. The latter was turned up over the lower edge of the vel vet one or two inches. He wore a blue demask gown lined with silk, a white satin embroidered waistcoat, black satin' small clothes, white silk stockings, and` red morocco slippers. It was a general practice_ in genteel' families to have a tankard of punch made in the morning and placed in a cooler when the season required it. At thiti visit, Hancock took from the cooler stand ing on the hearth a full tankard, and drank first himself, and then offered it US those present. His equipage was spendid, and s-teh ars is not customary at this day. His ap: , parel was sumptuously embroidered with' gold, silver lace, and other decorations, fashionable among men oflortune at that period ; and he rode, especially upon pub lie occasions, with six beautiful bay horses, attended by servants in livery. Ho wore a scarlet coat, with ruffles on• his sleeves, which soon became the pre-' vailing fashion ; and it is related of Dr. Nathan Jacques, the famous pedestrian' of West Newburg, that lie passed all the way from that place to Boston in one day . to procure cloth for a coat like tbat of John Hancock, and returned with it un der his arm. The Chirography of Grant and Lee. A Richmond correspondent of the Savannah Republican, referring to the . late correspondence between Gene. Grant and Lee in reference to the relief of our+ prisoners at the South, says : The correspondence between Gen. Lee' and Gen. Grant is now before mo, and I have been much struck by the handwrit ing of these two ablest generals the war has brought forward on either side. Gen. Lee's handwriting is bold and rather stiff,• his letters being large, round and very distinct. Ho bears heavily übon the pen —probably a goose quill—and abreviates many of his words, as if writing were a labor to him. The following ie'an exact transcript of the first sentence in his letJ ter to Gen. Grant : "Cene , /(a—l have read your letter of the ISth inst., accomp'g copies of letters from Judge Ould Conu'r of Exchange of Pris'rs on the part of the Couf'rate States &the Honble.E. M. Stanton See'y of War Lt. (Jul. Mulford Asst. Comm'i of Exc. of the United States," He does net, as you perceive, one. tuate closely ; and nowhere in his letter does he write out the word "and," but invariably uses the abbreviation "&."' And yet ho pauses long enough to dot all his "i's" and cross. all his "t's." All his letters aro drawn nearly straight up and down the paper ; in other words, they are like himself, round, full, bold and upright, inclining neither to the right nor the left, and standing firmly on their base, as if, they disdained all resistance. They at." so clear and precise, so round and weigh ty, and distinct, that each letter rominde ono of a solid cannon ball, and each word of cluster of grapeshot. Gen. Grant's hand writing, on the Qom , trary, though not so bold and .distinct, nor the letters so large , and. round: and erect, is, nevertheless, Very legible' and very striking. It is . full of energy and action : , and his letters.all incline to the right; and follow. Ope,after another, with a little space 'between them as if theyre- , presented' an equal number of his bri gades on a rapid march round Lee's right, --Among chirographersliis hand would be called a running words occupy much space from ,;left to right s and still they are very clear and legible. He pays more attention to punctuation than`Gen. Leo, abbreviates . less,Jrnd , equally careful, of ids t's; It may be the work of imagination,yet in read. ing his letter I cannot but picture the writer as a 'restless, nervous,, energelici man, full of fire .and', 'action, - always in motion, and always in a hurry. - ,;'. "Have you said your prayers, today my Sori?" ‘1 • ,• , ,No f ,motller, ,it: ain't my work. says * .4 11 9 P.MYOrei and .1,.th0 ,imens,,, by which .you sec wo oavo.tirao.", -Ttio be . st 14' iioblosi'rion4tiest - fsvtliat . ofituire-Er 7 oivorbssoli_;ovor paseion or follies. Thar, aro Often 'the gentlest and softest, 'deli to, water' the flowers of joy. r. John Hancock MI
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers