(Tlic I'anCitstev ilntdluKnccr. VOL. LYIII INTELLIGENCER & LANCASTERIAN. PUBLISHED EVERT TUESDAY, AT HO. 8 NORTH DUKE STREET, BT GEO. SANDERSON TERMS Subscription. —Two Dollars per annum, payable in ad vance. No subscription discontinued until all arrearages are paid, unless at the option of the Editor. Advertisements. —Advertisements, not exceeding one square, (12 lines.) will be inserted three times fcr one dollar, and twenty-five cents for each additional inser tion. Those of a greater length in proportion. Job Printing —Such as Iland Bills, Posters, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, Ac., Ac., executed with accuracy and at the shortest notice. For the Intelligencer. Linas composed on a Beautiful Morning In June, ’57. BY INEZ. How beautiful the balmy morn, The sun shines bright and olear ; How. sweetly on the breeze is borne, The bird-note soft and clear. •• The perfumed flowers, all bright with dew, Their fragranoe shed around ; The budding fruit on bending boughs, JDoth everywhere abound. As here in thoughtful mood. I sit, And gazo upon this scene, I feel that earth is beautiful, For here our God has been. His glory lights this world of ours, While every field and grove, ’ And budding fruit, and fragrant flower, All murmur “God is Love l .' 4 ’ The little birds do carol forth, Their songs of praise sublime, To Him who gave their little life, To Him who gave me mine. Oh ! let my heart in thankfulness And gratitude sinoere, ,Be lifted unto Nature’s God, For all his gifts so dear. And when death’s ioy hand upon My throbbing heart is laid, And olosed my eyos, and cold my form, And in the grave I’m laid, Oh ! may my spirit upward soar, To those bright realms above, Where flowers shall bloom forevermore, And whisper “ God is Love." For the Intelligencer. THE PAST SUMMER. BY JOSIAH F. PASSMORE The Summer months have passed away ; And with them, many a clear, bright eye, That beamed with love, Has pass’d from earth, to mingle with The cherished ones, who dvvolt with us, In by-gone days. Our youth like summer months, is pass’d, And we are nearing very fast Our final home; Whether we read) the land of bliss, Or roach the land of souls distress’d, Will on us rest. If we are righteous and obey The preoepts of King Jesus’ way, We will reach Heaven ; Bnt if we follow Satan's friends, We’ll reaoh the place of fire and pain { Where sinners dwell. Oh ! should wo not the passing day, Improve while yet we’ve time to pray To God above ; That He may drive our sina away, And give to us oternai day, With those above. Then let us all improve our time, And fit our souls to meot our friends - With God above ; Where all is harmony and 16ve, *And all obey the holy word Of tho most High ! New Providence, 1857. From Putnam’s Monthly, SNIP-SNAP. Cynthia Susan Simpson, age eighteen, ■with the pretty talent of pleasing men, was the acknowledged belle of the little Mar row-Squash valley. This little talent of pleasing men is sometimes given by nature as a compensa tion for the lack of every other accomplish ment, or the means of procuring any; but this was not the case with Cynthia, who had good Yankee sense, and a vein of sprightliness in her composition, which latter, as I take it, requires several other talents for its support, otherwise it soon degenerates into silliness—whence it sours into vulgar ill-nature in the country girl —in the lady of sooiety into sarcasm. Cynthia was pretty, in the freshness of her ago. American beauty comes forth like a flower, and is cut down. The love liness of girlhood rarely ripens in the ma tron. And Cynthia was afraid to risk her loveliness, no doubt; for whilest she en oouraged the attentions of many “beaux,” who, in the language of her society, “went to see her” evening after evening, at the snug farm-house of her father, whenever any of these swains took the opportunity to press upon her notice the nature of hiß case, and urge the necessity of its speedy oure, she out the matter short with him. Truth must be said, that amongst all her admirers there was not one who was a priori —that is, before a reciprocation of his love took place—a very desirable match for her. The richest was Seth Taggart, who paid his last visit to her one afternoon, in a brand new Buit of glossy, fine, black broad oloth. Pretty Cynthia was alone, and prepared by previous experience to dis oern symptoms of an approaching assault upon the Malakoff of her affections. She pursed up her pretty little mouth, and sewed, with nimble-glanoing fingers, on the sleeve of one of the old squire’s shirts, of unbleached ootton ; and thought to her self what a fool Seth Taggart was, and wondered how he would get out of the fix in whioh he found himself, and how he oould dare to think she had given him en couragement—and looked—very bewitoh ing. Poor Seth sat on the verge of his chair, and gazed through the window, whioh was open, into the woods, but his was a mind like that of Wordsworth’s Pe ter, “ A primrose, on the river's brim, - A yellow primrose* was to him, And nothing more." He did not find any inspiration in the woods, so he began to look into the ashes. “ Miss Cynthia,” said he, at length, “did you ever see a crow V’ “ Yes, Mr. Seth,” said she, folding her gusset, and looking down at it demurely as a mouse. “ Black—ain’t it 1” said Seth. “ Very.” Then oame a pause. “ Darn it—l wish she’d 'help me out,” said Seth in his own thought. “ The little minx knows what I want to say, and she might help me to say What man has not thought this before “This farmer’s life, when there are no now, at oourting time— and wished to bor- higher interests to aooompany it,; does not row feminine taot, and the larger experi- draw out tbe best energies of a man. His enoe of women, to help him out of the nature > like hie thoughts, goes round and slough of despond he is beginning toj sink into 1 What man would not give ’ the world to know how the laßt man, who offered himself to her, got through ! with it 1 | “Ever see an owl 1” said Seth, at length, falling back upon his own resour ces. ; “ Often, Mr. Seth,” lisped pretty iCyn- thia. “ It’s got big eyes—ain’t it, now ?.J’ “ Very big eyes,” said she. | Seth grew angry. Angry with himself, no doubt; but anger, like Phoebus Apollo at sunset, glows brightest in reflection. — He thought it a “mean shame,’’she wouldn’t “help him out,” while she sat there, Jook ing “good enough to eat,” and laughing at him, as even his blunt perception) told him, whilst her attention was apparently bestowed upon the shirt-sleeve. He wished it were his shirt she was stitching sjo as siduously. He stirred up the ashes op the hearth, and almost made up his mindij that “he warn’t going to give her another chance at him but Cynthia dropped her cotton-ball, and Seth, not rising from his chair, stretched out his long, lank arid, and picked it up. He touched her harid, as she took it back, and an eieotric thrilled through his veins, and madd him feel “all over—ever so,” as he somej time afterwards expressed the sensation tip me. “ Miss Gynthy, may be you-are fond of maple candy ?” j “ Very,” said she. j “Well, now,” said Seth, rising, | “the next time I come, I’ll try and bring you a great gob.” jj But as he rode home, behind hjs old farm mare, he said to himself, “ I reckon I ain’t going back to oourt a gal whfa sees a feller in a fix, and never helps him.”— And sure enough, he never did return. Miss Cynthia lost her riohest lovey, and many folks, even to ’ this day, beliefe she wished him back again. It is the way of women to want the thing that oan’t b’d had. At least, so men say (if not in pract(be, in theory,) and Cynthia’s mouth watgjred, I dare say, for many a week after, fob that gob of maple candy. j! The Moral. Let every man, oh !;j pret ty* fd r k pay court to you in his own way, and not in your way, and help him jjout at that, being sure, however, that you jbre in harmony with his mode of procedure.— Never disturb ice-cream when it isjlgoing to freese ; nor lift the pot as it begins to boil ; nor make a false step and getiout of time, when your partner is meditating a revers in the deux temps , or the pqlka.— Many a declaration of affection has been frightened off by some wrong note sPng in the treble of the duet, which put it (out of harmony. | Cynthia, though so pretty a girl, hnd so experienced in the art of saying “no,” to an offer of marriage, had yet a good deal to learn in her own craft; and, indeed, no experience ever primes a woman for the deoisive moment. Bach case must be met on principle, and not on precedent.! It is our business to discover, in this story of “ Snip-Snap,” how far pretty Glynthia profited by the experience she prided her self upon in the rejection of her lovers. It was a mellow autumn morning] and a russet glow had tinged the woods il at the back of ’Squire Simpson’s homestead. It was Seth Taggart’s wedding day. lie was to marry, | that evening, Susie Chase—a smiling little rose-bud of a wife, tb whom he found plenty of things to say, as sweet to Susie’s ears as to her lips hisjj maplo candy. Cynthia, ak one of her beßt friends, was to be bridesmaid ; and as she|wished to shine that night, in all her bravejry, and wanted some new ribbons for hebj head dress, this want tempted her abroad, a little after noon, when the harvest-fields were quiet and the yoked oxen sfood re lieved from labor, leisurely chewihg the sweet morsel reserved for that soft) sunny hour of rest, as men of business u£ e to do the thought of the last letter written by the hand they love, till the burden of ; jthe day is laid aside, putting it apart (with) all its 'woman’s nonsense, and half unreasonable fancies,) pure from the contact of [the pile of yellow letters lying on their desk, offer ings upon the shrine of Jupiter Mhmmon. Our pretty Cynthia tripped alopg her path, scattering a cloud of grasshoppers and criokets, as she stepped ; and|i in her silly little pride of bellehood held, though she would not have confessed the thought, that her relative value to her crowd of beaux, was in the same | propor tion as that of one woman to many grass hoppers. i| At a turn in the path, she camejpudden ly on one of these admirers—Fraik Han dy. Frank’s faoe flushed. He hkd been thinking of her when she surprised him— thinking of her all that day and -jthrough a sleepless night; and in those hours tho Cynthia of his fancy had smiled Son him, and laid her gentle hand in his, hnd had been gathered to his heart—it was a shook to come thus suddenly upon so different a reality. At the moment he enebuntered her, he was indulging himself in ail imagi nary love scene, in which he was| oalling her, in heart, “My Cynthia, my love,” and at the sudden sight of her jail such presumptuous fanoies fled in hastei, and hid themselves, shrinking like vari-tiffted coral polypes when danger approaches—eaoh into the reoesses of its oell.. Jj “ I beg your pardon, Miss Cynthia,” he said, stammering before he gathered self possession, and accustomed himself to her presence.- “ I was on my way to make you a oall. If you will allow me, I {will turn round and walk with you.” j “ I am not going far, Mr. Frank, only into the village, for some ribbon for my hair, and gentlemen dislike shopping,” (knowing perfectly well that he would go with her.) | “ I know where a wild hop-vine grows,” said he, “it would make a muol| prettier ornament for your hair than any ribbons you could buy in the village.” S “And will you get me some ?”lj “ Turn this way into the woods, and spare me half an hour while I twist it into a wreath. lam going away from here to morrow, perhaps. I have been it offered a professorship in a school of agriculture.” “ Indeed, Mr. Handy.” | There was a pause, and Cynthia re sumed, a little hurriedly : ■ “ j should think you would liko going away from here. There is nothing to tempjt a young gentleman to remain among ua.”i{ “ I shall like it, in some respects, bet ter than my present life,” said Handy. « TTTAT, COUNTRY IS THE HOST PROSPEROUS WHEELS LABOR COMMANDS THE GREATEST REWARD.”—BUCHANAN. LANCASTER CITY, PA., TUESDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 29, 1857. round in the routine, lilt* a squirrel in its cage, and makes no progress.” “ This man thinks higher things than I think,” was Cynthia’s thought as he said this, and, for a moment, she felt humbled in his presence ; but she rallied her pre tensions, remembered her bellehood and her oonquests, and the light in which she al ways had been looked upon by all her lov ers, and was almost disposed to revenge upon Frank Handy the passing feeling of inferiority. Frank stood in silence, twin ing the hop-wreath for her head. He did not speak. His thoughts were busied with the words that he would say to her when he broke silence. He was satisfied to have her waiting at his side—waiting for the hop-wreath, with its pale green bells, that he was twining leisurely; and Cynthia grew impatient as she found he did not' speak to her. She addressed him several questions, whioh he answered with an air of pre-oooupation. She wandered from his Bide a few yards among the rocks, turning over with her foot some pebbles covered with gray and orange moss, and disturbing all the swarm of bußy insect life, whioh made its home there. The influence of the day stole into her heart, and made ,her answers more soft and natural. At last Handy broke silenoe, oalling her to him, as she stood watching the stir which the point of her foot had produoed in an •mt-hi 11. “ Miss Cynthia.” “ Is it “finished 1” she said, quiokly. “ Not the garland—but the struggle in my breast id finished. I have been ques tioning myself whether I should say to you what I am about to say.” * Cynthia gathered a leaf, and began slowly to tear apart its delioate veins and fibres. “ Miss Cynthia, is it pleasant to you to havo a man say he loves you!” “I don’t know, Mr. Handy. I suppose so. That is, I think it is very embarrass ing sometimes.” “ Why embarrassing, Miss Cynthia 1” Tie was taking her on a new taok. It was different from anything she had ever before experienced. She did not like this way of having his offer. “It is embarrassing when I know that my only answer can be'No,” she said, looking him in the face for a moment, and then casting her eyes upon the lime leaf she was dissecting. “ It would be more embarrassing, I think, if you were not so sure,” he said, “ and if you took the matter into consider ation.” “It never wants any consideration with me,” she answered. “What! did you never place before your mind the subject of marriage ? Have you been satisfied with the vain triumphs of a belle 1 And did you never look beyond, to see what the happy duties of a wife, and the sweet, ties of home might be 1” Cynthia laughed, but the laugh was af feoted and constrained. “ What nonsense, Mr. Handy!” “It is not nonsense,” he replied ; “such thoughts are fit for maiden meditation they are womanly—and womanly, above everything else, I should wish my wife to be.’ “1 hope she may be all you wish her, Mr. Handy. We will go now, if you please, if you have finished my garland.” “Itis not ready for you yet,” said Handy, passing it over one arm while he took her hand. “ Cynthia, beloved ! you must listen ;o me.” She drew her hand away, but he took it again, and resumed. “ You must let me feel its pulses beating against my hand, while I tell you the seoret of my life—of my love, for I have always loved you. I loved you when you were a blooming little girl, and we both went to school to Ezekias Reed, dear Cynthia. I have loved you against hope—at times against my better reason. I have hesitated to tell you this because encumbrances on my farm made my position less than that which I thought ought to be offered to you. I have watch ed you with your other admirers ; and, in some moments, have not thought that any‘ other had your preference, so that other men have taken their chanoe before me. This offer of a professorship, which adds a thousand dollars to my income, makes it possible for me to address you/ Cynthia ! there are depths of tenderness whioh no human eye has ever fathomed, in many a strong man’s heart—depths which, perhaps, are never, by the shallower nature of your sex, entirely reciprocated or understood. It is not alone my heart, it is my very na ture—heart and soul, mind and strength— that I offer to you. The love of you, like things which plants absorb and assimilate into their own growth, has beoome part of me. This is a tried and true affection, Cynthia. It has waited patiently until the moment came when it might be offered to your aoceptanoe. Cynthia, if you will lay this little hand in mine” (and he let it fall, but stretched out his hand towards her,) “ I will strengthen you, and elevate you, and guide you. You shall be a woman of higher rank (as God ranks woman), for your union with a man’s stronger, steadier, and more single-minded nature, and, Cyn thia, your influence for good on me will be incalculable. Who can estimate what a man owes to the affeotion of a woman ! All that I have in me that is good will be doubled by your influence. You must draw forth—perhaps oreate—the gentle ness, delicacies, and the tendernesses that complete the manly character.” He paused, and Cynthia stood with her hand hidden in the folds of her mantle. “ No,” she said Blowly; “ I am sorry, Mr. Handy, but I cannot be what you wish to you.” There was an embarrassed silenoe be tween them for a few moments, and then Cynthia, gathering oourage with her rising pride, oontinued : “ I am not good enough to answer your expectations, Mr. Handy. You must look elsewhere for the kind of woman who will satisfy you.” Handy started, and his faoe flushed ea gerly. He was about to speak. Cynthia oaughtthe lightning of his eyes ; but when they rested on her faoe, he said that her words were not wholly sinoere, and the look faded. “ You are not dealing fairly with me, Miss Cynthia, nor yet with your own heart,” he said, a little bitterly. “ You are not convinced of what you said this moment. You think in your heart lam a foolish fellow, and that I ask too muoh.— l You do not think that Cynthia Simpson falls short of the reasonable ideal of any man.” “ I don’t know why you should say suoh things,” said Cynthia, grdwing angry and nearly ready to cry. It was file first time any offer had been made to her whioh had not left behind it a self-satisfied feeling of triumph ; and yet here was Frank Handy, as incomparably superior to any other sui tor she had ever had as ... . Well, no matter “ Miss Cynthia,” said Frank, “when a man loves a woman, as I have long loved you, he singles her out from the whole world as his representative of womanhood ; and there is that in her before which he bows down, doing homage to the woman’s nature within her. But this does not im ply unconsciousness of her faults. He may see where she comes short of her own capability. And that marriage is true union in which the husband, up to whom she looks, and on whom she should lean, strengthens her bet-er in its struggle against her worser nature.” They were walking towards the home stead, and walking fast. Cynthia was an gry, disturbed, and mortified. Was this a time to dwell upon her faults ? She ad mitted that she had some. Vague confes sion ! by no means implying that Cynthia knew that, at that moment, she was proud, vain, insincere, and petulant, and that she was crushing down the better feelings of her heart, to give the victory within her to the worst. If Handy wanted her, she thought, ho might woo her with more res pect to her pretensions. And he should woo her. If he loved her as he said he did, she knew her power was great. He should bring his homage not coldly to the womanhood within her, but to herself—to< Cynthia Susan Simpson, in spite of the full display of all her faults, and even in oppo sition to his better reason. She was not to be defrauded of her triumph, and it would be a great one, indeed, if she forced him, by her faults themselves, to surrender at discretion. They reached the steps over the stone fence which, led on to the highway. In their path lay a disabled grasshopper.— Frank set his foot on it and crushed it firmly. “ Miss Cynthia,” said he, “few women have the courage to treat rejected suitors thus. It is the true humanity.” He helped her over the steps, and paus ed. He took the hop-wreath carefully from his arm, and gave it into her hands. She took it with an indifferent air, and, as she took it, crushed some of the green blos soms. She would have treated him with more courtesy (had Frank but known it), if she had been entirely indifferent to his admiration. “ Miss Cynthia,” said he, now in a grave and measured tone, which, in spite of her self, impressed her with a sense of the powerlessness of her little arts when brought into conflict with his self-posses sion and sincerity, “I know very well how you have dealt by many men, and I am not disposed to fall into the ranks, and take my chance ainong your many other patient suitors. It is true, that the wound that you inflict on me, will leave its scar for. life ; but I cannot make my self-res pect an offering even to you. And if you have the feelings of true nobleness, whioh I have always fancied 1 discerned in you, you would respect me, esteem me, love me less, for such a sacrifice. I shall never of fer myself again to you. Cynthia started. Slight and rapid as her movement was, he saw it, and repeated, “ I shall never offer myself again to you; and I leave this place to-morrow, never to return to it, till I have subdued this love for you. To-night I shall be at the wedding. I am grooms man to Seth Taggart, and shall stand up with you. lam going home to consider fully what has passed, to convinoe myself (if I can) oalmly, whether my love for you has been an error in my life, for which my judgment is responsible, or only its mis fortune ; whether the Cynthia 1 have loved is really capable, as I have dreamed, of scattering the clouds that dim her beauty, and shining forth in her sweet queenliness upon the lonely darkness of the man who can teach her what it is to love. Ido not know what I shall think. To-day has shaken my confidence in you. As I said before, I shall make you no further offer ; but, if I make up my mind to renew the one I have just made you, I shall say Snip! during the evening ; and, if you answer Snap ! I shall understand it is favorably received by you. Mind,” he added, “ I think it doubtful whether, notwithstanding my love for you, I shall ihink it right to »ay it. lam going into the fields to ‘med itate till eventide’ upon my course, and I may bring back the oonviction that for the present rejection of my suit I ought to be muoh obliged to you. Nor shall I say Snip! more than once. In this uncertain ty I leave the matter to your considera tion.” “ What impertinence !” thought Cyn thia. “ I never heard of such a thing !” And she began to cry, standing alone upon highway, holding her hop-wreath in her hand. “ I don’t know what I had better do. I wish he had taken some other way of speak ing to me. Oh! why should he be so very unkind 1 I don’t care. It is his loss a great deal more than mine, if he is really in love with me.” The evil spirit was coming back, and it whispered, “ He will certainly say Snip ! but you had better not say Snap! too read ily.” V She walked on thinking, imagining a tri umph, when suddenly the thought came to her, that she was confessing to herself she wanted to say Snap ! —and why! It was not possible that t.he tables of her pride were turned upon her; that she was in Frank Handy’s power, to refuse or to take ; that she loved him! “I don’t care for him at all,” was the suggestion of the bad angel. “ I only want to teaoh him for the future to behave. He is a presuming, ex acting, self-oonoeited fellow.” “ Have you over, in the oourse of your experience,” said the good angel, “ seen any other man like Frank! Has not the conversation of this very day raised him to high in your esteem .... whioh is ... . whioh must be ... . That is, he stands before you in a light in which no other man has ever stood before ! ” “ I don’t believe he loves me,” said her perverse heart, “or else he would have taken a great deal more pains to win me.” “ Ah! ” said the good angel, “ what better love can a man give, than that whioh sees your faults and strengthens you against them! True, he has set his ideal of womanhood so high, that you do not oome up to it; but he sees in you capabil ities for good, beyond those of other women, though to the height of your capabilities you have never attained.” “ Oh ! I shall be a worse woman, and an unhappy woman, if I do not love Frank Handy, and if Frank Handy does not love me,” said her heart, now turning to its better instincts, as she threw herself upon her little, white, dimity-covered bed in her own chamber, and, shutting out the light from her eyes, thought what life would be if Frank never said Snip!—Frank, who was even then walking in the fields, trying to think all the harm he could of her. Here she day, and cried, and disquieted he.rself in vain. And she thought over all the good Bhe had ever heard of Frank Handy, and—strange ! —that though it seemed to her he had the good word and good opinion of every man who knew him, no one had ever quite seemed to appreciate him to his full value. Perhaps ho had never shown his inmost heart to other peo ple as he had to her. Her wounded feeling seized upon the balm she found in such a thought. Frank was not a man to put forth his pretensions. She had wronged him very much in calling him conceited and presuming. He had spoken only what he had a right to think about his own sin cerity ; and oh ! how she wished he could think a great deal better of her. During the burst of tears that followed this reflection, the great farm tea-bell rang. Cynthia sprang from her bed and wiped her eyes. If she looked as if she had been orying, might not some one say she was fretted to lose Seth Taggart ! Seth Tag gart, indeed ! She wasn’t going to cry for losing any man. And the evil spirits re sumed their sway. So Cynthia went down stairs towering in pride and wrath. She had half a mind not to go the wedding. No, she could not do that. People would certainly say things she would not like about her and Seth Tag gart, if she staid away. It was delicate ground with her, this matter of Seth Tag gart’s, because he had never made her any offer. “I think men treat women shame fully,” said Cynthia in her thoughts, sum ming up all her wrongs at once, as she sat at the tea-table, priming herself with pride against the weakness before whieh she felt her courage giving way. “ Cynthy, I reckon you’d best go and dress you,” said her mother, as she was clearing away the table after tea; “ you leave the things, and I’ll wash up and put away. It will take you some time to fix yourself, and you ought to be there early, if you are going to stand up with Sue.” “ Who’s the groomsman, Miss Brides maid 1 ” said her father. “ Frank Handy, sir,” said Cynthia, with a toss of her bead. “ Ha ! Handy 1 ” said her father, “ a right clever fellow iB Frank. It’ll be a lucky woman he stands up with to be mar ried to.” Cynthia escaped to her own room, and she began to cry again. There ! her father spoke well of Frank; but nobody could know him as well as she knew him. Oh ! if he only would come back. Why hadn’t she known the state of her own heart that morning ? But he took her so by surprise, and all her evil feelings had got uppermost at the moment. It would be very cruel of him—very—not to try her again. Thus she thought, until she was suffi ciently advanced in her toilet to put her wreath on. Should she wear it 1 Would it not be confessing too much, if he were to see it in her hair! She looked for some “ribbons in her drawer, but at this moment her father called her, and said, if she came quick he would drive her over to Susie’s before he unharnessed his old, mare. So she put on the hop-wreath in a hurry, giv ing it the benefit of her doubt, and its trembling green bells mixed with the light curls of her pretty sunny hair. “ Where did you get that from ? ” said her father. “ It’s mighty tasty, I declare. Give me a kiss, Cynthy. I hope your beaux will think you look half as pretty as I do. And it’s better, my child, to be ad mired by your old father, who loves you, than by a orowd of foolish fellows, half of whom get round a pretty girl just like my flock of sheep out yonder, one following because another is making up to her.” Foolish fellows! ” they were “ foolish fellows.” But Frank Handy was not one of them. Frank had never followed in her train sufficiently to be accounted one of her suitors. It was this very 1 foolish ’ flock whose ranks he scorned to enter. All that her father said, Beemed to justify her nas oent feeling, hhe kissed the old man’s ruddy cheek, and felt as if the callow love, that fluttered at her heart, had almost been made welcome by his approbation. “ What time shall I come for you, -Cyn thia? ” said he, as she alighted at Susie’s door. “ Oh! not till late, father,” she said, hurriedly. “Stay—not at all. Some of the young men will walk with me ; or, if they don’t, I’ll come with Tommy Chase. He’s only eleven, but he’s tall of his age.” Aqfi now Cynthia found herself in the bride’s ehamber. The pretty little rose bud, blushing in her wedding muslin, and going to be very happy, because .... well, it takes a good deal more sense than Susie had to be unhappy in life when one is blessed with a sweet temper and a good digestion. A super-added power of suffer ing is a proof of an advance in organiza tion, and we submit the argument to the skeptic : whether this truth does not imply the necessity of some power or influence which shall counterbalance and adjust this sensitiveness to suffering in the highest natures 1 Cynthia was waited for to put the finish ing toflohes to the bridal toilet, for Cyn thia had taste, and Cynthia among her ‘ girls ’ had a reputation for good nature. Her fingers failed her as she pinned the wedding wreath, and she trembled more than the bride did when the buggy that had been sent for the minister stopped at the end of the briok path which led up to the homestead. She saw Frank Handy in his bridal suit going down to receive the minister. “ Cynthia, you go and tell the gentle men they may oome in.” Cynthia shrank baok. But as the brides maid it was her offioe, and the others pushed her to the door. “ She didn’t want to see Seth Taggart, I reokon,” said one of the girls in a half whisper. Don’t you see how pale she has grown.” Cynthia falsified this speech by looking scarlet before "the girl addressed could turn her head; and she opened the door of the room, where the bridegroom and his men were oagod, with an air in which as sumed indifferenoe was strongly marked, and said, “ Gentlemen, we aro ready,” with a toss that sent the hop-bells dancing in her head. Seth, long and lean, and shiny, in his wedding suit, as a snake in a new skin, took little Sosie on his awkward arm: Frank Handy, quite collected, and self possessed, offered his to the bridesmaid, and they followed the bride and bride groom into the best parlor. Cynthia and Frank were parted, when they took their places for the ceremony. It was only a moment that she leaned upon his arm, but that moment gave her a new sensation. It was a pride, such as no woman need be ashamed of,in resting upon manly strength. His arm did not tremble, though all her nerves seemed twittering like wires stretoh ed, and suddenly let loose. He seemed so strong, so calm, so self-collected, and, so dignified, that she began to feel her own unworthiness, and to mistrust her power. She cast her eyes down during the ser vice, tried to bring her rebel nerves under control—she heard nothing, and saw no one. The minister had blessed them both, and kissed the bride. Everybody came round the pair with salutations. The kiss ing was rather indiscriminate. Seth claim ed the privilege of kissing all the girls, and, of course, he kissed the bridesmaid. His former sensation of “ all over—ever so ” transferred itself to her in a different way. She would as soon have kissed a clam. “ Cynthy, you and Frank bring in the cake. You seem to forget all you have got to do,” said one of the young girls of the party. “Frank! Hero! Your waiting, and I declare, I don’t believe you have taken the privilege of the kiss you are entitled to.” Frank was called away from the side of a lady in blue, a stranger from the city, who had been brought by some of the guests. She had no other acquaintances, and Frank seemed to be attentive to her. “ I beg your pardon, Miss Cynthia,” said he, turning from the lady, and taking no notice of the latter part of the speech that was addressed to him, “let us do all that is expected of us.” They went together into the pantry, and were there alone. Cynthia thought, “if he intends to say Snip! now is the moment.” But Frank was intent on arranging the cake on plates, and disposing them on a large waiter. Cynthia felt ready to cry. She took refuge in silenoe, and the cake. It may have been the sweet, unwholesome smell of wedding cake which made her head ache violently. “Itis a foolish custom,” said Frank, as they arranged the cake. “Foolish, that persons, because they are happy, should want to make other folks sick.— But there is a great deal of selfishness in the display of newly married happiness, as that essay by Elia tells us.” Frank sighed, and that sigh revived the courage of Cynthia. "Now she thought he will say “ Snip !” Can I say “ Snap !” Oh! no. She put on a little coquetry. “You will not have any oake at your wedding, Mr. Frank,” she said. “ Everything about that will be the perfection of good sense and reason.” She had not intended to but as the speech fell from her lips, it sounded so. It .was trifling—unworthy. She wished she had not said it. Its tone was out of harmony with what she felt. “ Come,” said Frank, “ let us feed them.” He took one of the handles of the tray, and the bridesmaid took the other. The room was very merry. The cake was served with plenty of noise, and the wine after it. Frank seemed to be quite self possessed, and attentive to everybody.,— Cynthia’s beaux could make nothing of her. She answered their questions wrong. A rumor ran that she was wearing the willow for Seth Taggart. She declined to dance, on the plea that she must keep her self disengaged for her duties as a brides maid, and, indeed, her head ached so she feared the motion. Agonized by her self consciousness, and with too little spirit left to make head against the reports that were going about, she could not but perceive that Frank seemed not to remember her. “ Who is that lady in blue, Mr. Handy is so taken up with ?’ she said to one of the party. Cynthia had always called him “Frank ” before, but consciousness made her now rejeot the old familiarity. “ Oh ! that is somebody very wonderful. Everybody else is afraid to speak to her. She has written a book. Frank seems to be right down flirting with her—doesn’t he ? I declare, now, he always wanted somebody out of the way. Nobody here was good enough for Frank. Have you heard he has been offered a professorship, and is going away 1 He is going to live in the same place she does. I shouldn’t wonder at his courting her—should you ?” “ I don’t care,” said Cynthia in her heart, “ I don’t care. Oh ! yes I do. I oare that he should have weighed me in the balances so calmly this afternoon, and found me so unworthy, that he takes back the love he has offered me. Has he judged me very cruelly 1 Or am 1 quite unworthy of his attachment ? Oh! think that this morning I had it in my power to be happy all my life, when I refused him ! Oh 1 how can any one compare any other man with him ! And he loved me only to-day—and now, to-night, his reason says I am not good enough to be his wife ; and he is afraid of being unhappy with me. Indeed, lam not good enough—but I would try to be.” " “ . . . .If you would snip it.” It was Frank Handy’s voice. She caught the word, and looked up eagerly. Frank saw her,, and stopped embarrassed. He was holding up a torn fold in the dress of his partner in blue. “ If I knew where to find a needle and thread,” said the authoress, with a half look at the bridesmaid. “ I know. Let me sew it up for you,” said Cynthia. Her pride had left her. Sho felt hum bled to the dust. It would be a relief to do something for this woman—better than herself—whom Frank preferred to her. < Lot me do it,’ she said earnestly. ‘ Mr. Handy, I shall depend upon your esoort.’ " Frank Handy bowed, and the girls went together into a bed-room. Escort I—was it his esoort to the oity 1 He had told her he should go there.— Cynthia sewed up the hole in the blue dress, very sadly and quietly. The animation faded from the young authoress’ face, as she looked down on Cynthia’s quivering lip, and saw a big tear fall upon her sewing. She had heard some one say, she had been the viotim of false hopes raised by Seth Taggart; and had in her heart despised her for it; but now she felt as if the Bad, heart-broken love be stowed on him, endorsed him as far better than he looked. It was a woe, however, to whioh she oould not openly allude. — Bat, as Cynthia set the last stitoh in her dress, she stooped down and kissed her.— ‘ Every sorrow has its lesson,’ she said, 1 as every weed has a drop of honey in its cup. Blessed are they who sunk that drop, and store it for good uses.’ She had gone, and Cynthia was left alone. Yes, she had much to learn. This night’s experience had taught her that her reign was over, and her oareer of bellehood run. She, who was not good enough to keep a good man’s heart when she had won it, would set herself to her new task of self improvement. She would have her dear old father’s love, and live at home, and lit tle children, too, should learn to love her. And then, perhaps, some day, when they both grew old, Frank Handy might, per haps, see that he had judged her hastily 1 and not be glad, as he was now, that she had rejected him. At least, every im provement in her would be due to his in fluence, though unseen; and so, even in her lonely life, he would not be altogether dissociated from her. She sat in the dark, with her hands clasped tightly over her burning forehead. She heard voioes in the passages. The party was breaking up. People were be ginning to go. Oh ! why had she staid alone so long ! Perhaps during that hour Frank might have changed his mind. She had deprived herself of the opportunity. She started up and hurried out amongst the company. They were all getting their cloaks and shawls on. Frank, in his great coat, was standing impatiently at the house door. ‘ Please to tell her that my buggy has come up first,’ he said to some one, as Cynthia presented herself in the passage. ‘ I am ready,’ said the lady in blue, pre senting herself. Frank raised his hat to the oompany ; and took her on his arm. ‘ Shut up that door,’ said somebody; ‘ and don’t let tho night air into the house.’ So the door closed with a jar that went to Cynthia’s very heart. She turned aside and tried to help some of the girls to find their shawls and hoods. ‘ Every lassie had her laddie,’ Cynthia only had no one to take her home. She asked Tommy Chase to walk home with her, and he said he would as soon as he had had some more cake and some more supper. Cynthia went back into the empty parlor, and sat down by an open window looking on the yard. She hid her face in her hands. All sorts of thoughts went singing through her brain; but the one that presented itself oftenest, was an hum ble resolution that she would try to be such a woman as Frank Handy wisely might have loved. There was a stir among the vines that draped the window frame. She did not look up. It was the wind. She heard it sigh. -> She felt its warm breath near her cheek—warmer, surely, than the night wind. She lifted her Lead quickly. ‘ Snip !’ said Frank’s voice at her side. It trembled; and he trembled as he stood with a great hope and a great fear con tending in his breast. His self-possession was all gone. The struggle had unnerved him. ‘Oh 1 Snap!’ cried Cynthia suddenly. And then, drooping her bead, crowned with the hop bells, lower and lower—more and more humbly, till it rested on the win dow sill, —she said in a broken voioe : ‘ I know I am not worthy, Frank; but you must teach me.’ CARDS.* DR. JOHN M'CALLA, DENTIST.—OffIo. No. 4 feast Kiug street, Lancaster, l*a. aprlB tf 13 pEMOVAL.-WILLIAM S. AMWEG, lv Attorney at Liw, has reinuvud bis office from hia loi tner place into South Duke afreet, nearly opposite the Trinity Lutheran Church. apr 8 tf 12 CAMUEL H. REYNOLDS, Attorney at O fea w . Office, No. 14 North Duke street, opposite the Court House. may 6 tf 16 Dr. s. welchens, surgeon den tist.—Office, Knttiiph'u Buildings,second floor,North Kaat corner of North Queen and Orange streets, Lancas ter, I’a. jan 20 tf 1 WT. ItlcPH AIL, . ATTORNEY AT LAW, mar 31 1 y 11 • Strasborq, Lancaster Co., Pa. Newton lightner, attorney AT LAW, has removed his Oliice to North Duke street, to the room recently occupied by lion. I. E. Iliestor. Lancaster, apr 1 tf 11 ALDUS «X. NEFF, Attorney at Law.-- Office with B. A. Shaffer, Esq., south-west corner of Centre Square, l-ancaster. may 15, '65 ly 17 REMOVAL.- WILLIAM B. FORDfiEY, 11 Attorney at Law, has removed hia office from North Queen street to tlie building in the south east corner of Centre Square, formerly known os ilubley’s Llotol. Lancaster, april 10 WILLIAM WHITESIDE, SURGEON DENTIST.—Office in North Qneen street, 3d door from Orange, and directly over Spronger & Weßthoefier’f Book Store. Lancaster, may 27, 185fi, JESSE LANDIS) Attorney at Law.—Of flee one door oast of Lucbler'a Hotel, East King street, Lancaster, Pa. Ail kinds of Scrivening—such as writing Wills, Deeds, Mortgages, Accounts, <tc., will be attended to with correctness and despatch. may 16, '66 tf-17 DR. J. T. BAKER, Homceopathle Phy sician, huccnKai<r to Dr. McAllister. Office l‘J E. Orange st., nearly opposite the First Qer< man Reformed Church, Lancaster, April 17 JAMES BLACK, Attorney at Law.--Of fice in East King afreet, two doors east OfLechler’s Hotel, Lnucaster, Pa. ■B5“ All business connected with his profession, and all Rinds of writing, such as preparing Deeds, Mortgages, Wills. Stating Accounts, Ac., promptly attended to. jb tf-17 Alexander Harris, / Attorney at LAW. Office South Queen at., West side, near Vine 3t. References : Governor James Pollock, Harrisburg. Hon. Andrew G. Curtin, do. lion Joseph Casey, do. non. Andrew Parker, Mlfflintown. Hon. James M. Sellers, do. A. K. McClure, Esq., Chambersburg. apr7lyl2 T)ETER D. MYERS, j_ REAL ESTATE AGENT, PHILADELPHIA, will attend to the Renting of Houses, Collecting House and Ground Kents, Ac. Agencies entrusted to nls c&rr will bo thankfully received, and carofnllv attended to.-* Satisfactory reference given. Office N. E. corner of SEVENTH and SANSOM streets, Socond Floor, No. 10. fob 17 ly 6 CIOACH MAKING.—The aabgorlber re j sport fully informs his friends and the publio generally, that ho still carries on the ftESJEs COACH MAKINO, in all Its various branches, at bis shop, In tho alley run* nlng oast from tbo Court House, roar of Sprecber’s and Koehler's Hotels,Lancaster, whore ho continues to make to order, and at tho lowost possiblo prices, CARRIAGES of every description, of tho host materials and In the most substantial manner. All now work warranted. Repairing also attended to with dispatch. He respect* fully solicits a share of publio patronage. my 6 iy 10 WILLIAM COX. STATES’ UNION HOTEL.—NO* 900 Market street, above 6th street, Philadelphia, Pa.— The undersigned, late of the American House, Columbia, Penn*., takes pleasure In informing his friends, and the public generally, that he has taken the above woll-known and popular HOUSE, (long known as the Red Lion Hotel,) which he has filled up with entirely New Furniture and Bedding of a superior quality. The house has also been renovated and lmpro ved in a manner which will compare favorably with any of the Hotels In the City, and cannot foil to give satisfhe* tlon to those who may patronize this establishment. The TABLE will always be supplied with the cboioest Provisions the market affords; and the Bar with the PU REST AND BEST LIQUORS. Nothing shall be left undOM to make his Guests comfortable, and be flatters hlmselX that by strict attention to business, he will merit and re ceive a liberal share of public mNKT lg Proprietor. may 22 tf-18 Stereoscope si-«theie wonderful and universally admired pictures, which appear ae onnd and solid as sculptnred marble, are taken dally at JUHKSTON’B SKY-LIGHT GALLKKY, corner of North Queen and Orange sta. Daguerreotypes of every Hm and style, taken » the lowest prices. ■ L&nscater, June 19 NO 50.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers