VOL. LIX. THE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER PUBLISHED VOMIT TOESDAY, AT NO. 8 NORTH DIMEATRY.ET, BY GEO. SANDERSON. SOBSONIPTION.—Two Dollars per annum, payable in ad vance. No subscription discontinued until all arrearages - aro paid, unless at the option of the Editor. A.DVERTISEISENTs.—AdvertisPMAnts. not exceeding one square, (13 lines.) will be inserted three times for one dollar, and twenty-five cents for each additional inner tam. Those of a greaterieneth in proportion. lon Pairrettro—Such a. HAM Blile , Paslers, Pamphlets, Blanks 'Labels &c.. executed with accuracy and at the shortest notice. LINES TO A FRIEND EZEDM My worthy young and sncial friend, Those golden hours of light are o'er Which we in friendship's joys did spend Their memory's sweet, forever wore. My heart will gladden with delight, Although we may not e'er again Meet, each as then. with spirits bright, Still, Brill as friends we are the same! Not meet as theta, oh! no, for time Alike doth change both frame and mind, And age must follow manhood's prime, And youth's fond dreams be left behind. Those passions which invest the soul With new-born hopes and visions bright Give way, as time's dark waters roll For real day scenes, stript of light. Aye, stript of Fancy's cheating smile' And left to man, as better worth His ceaseless struggles and his toil Whilst here, upon this cheerless earth My gentle friend, doth Fancy still Around thy path her radiance stream ; And do thy kind heart's chambers fill With Hope's eternal sunny beam? Fain would I wish that bliss to thee Wish every joy that love can tell. And that thy future lot may be Unknown to sorrow's presence, fell Yet, doubtless, you, as well as 1, Have felt the weight that loads the soul When skies are dark, and storms seem nigh ♦nd gathering woes upon us roll. But when such phantoms ill arise To compass the unconscious heart, Look up, with faith, beyond tho skies And clod will bid your feats depart. For, as 'tie over said of Him, Re hue the mighty power to two, To oomfort, e'en when hope grows dim, Whon billows roll, and tompoets rave' Lila boundless moray and His love Flow In a novor ceasing etroam, That lifts the heart to realms above Whore smiles of love forovor beam. PROVIDENCH Twri., Juno, 1858. Prom tho Now York Albion TEIABS AND TZARS .400. Toutes cos °hoses sent parsecs Comma 'hombre of comma lo vent !—Victor Hugo. These things have passed upon their mournful way, Like the wild wind, and like the shadows grey. Suzanne was not sixteen, and I was barely nineteen, when we first met. She was the daughter, the only child, of a. poor Prot stant pastor near La Rochelle, one of thp chief a d oldest strongholds of the French Reformed Church. At that time I was about as wild a scape grace as you would see in any place I could name at this moment. I had been expelled from school for heating an insur rection against the proper authorities ; I had got Into endless scrapes in every po sition in which my poor father bad tried to establish me and finished when I was eighteen by, throwing off all restraint, crossing, the water, and with knapsack on my back started on a pedestrian tour through some of the French provine s, not with any definite aim or object, or in pur suance of any settled plan, but to exercise my usurped liberty, and .to get rid of some of the superfluous life that would not let me rest. Of adventures I had plenty ; but the relation of these is little to the point now. At La Rochelle, chance, a- I called it then, threw Suzanne in my way. Whether she was teautiful or not, I hardly knew. She wa t utterly unlike any one I -ever saw before or since : a little thing with a pair of eyes that prevented your seeing anything else when they were before you ; a pair of eyes which, like those of the German fairy, were not only one bar leycorn bigger (I think they were two bar leycorns bigger) than any body else's in the world ; but which loved you, repulsed you, and pitied and scorned you, and laughed with you, and cried with you, and make you wild with deli. ht, and desperate with despair twenty times a day. From the first time I saw her, I pursued oher without ceasing ; and we often met by those accidents that occur when two peo ple do their best to aid fate in her arrange ments. At the back of the presbytery was a garden full of roses, and lillies, and jessamines, and all sorts of beautiful flow ers that grow any place you may plant them, but that can no more get common or worthless for all their bounteous bloom ing, than if they required to be wa tered oharopaign. Beyond the garden is what is called a chataigneraie ; a little wood, carpeted with the- close turf, moss, and wild flowers, overshadowed with mag nificent chestnut trees, each of which might form a study for a landscape painter. Only a pai , ing anti a wicket separated the garden and the wood ; and the latter be ing unclosed, any one had a right to wan der there at will—a privilege of which the peasants in the neighborhood, having other moans of employing their time, seldom availed themselves ; and it was, except at the chestnut gathering, generally deserted. So there I used to repair in the glowing July days, with a sketch-book, to look business-like ; and, lying on the grass, or leaning rwainst a tree, myself half hidden, watch for Suzanne How it is all before me now—before we now, and in me, and in me, good Heaven, how clearly—after all these years! The broad rugged trunks of the trees ; the sunlight streaming with a soft, green light, through the leaves ; the warm, ripe, still heat that quivered before my half closed eyes; and there, there beyond, through a narrow vista, an opening, as it were into Heaven, in the guise of a little bit of the pastor's garden, blazing in sun shine and flowers. On this my eyes,would fix till the angel should come to gi it a holier light. Sometimes I waited through the long hours in vain ; sometimes I saw her pass and repass, coming and going like alternate sun. and shadow asAbe place seemed brightenckund darkened With her presence , and Ale*ture. Then, how my heart beat; hoW I watched, how I listen ed I—did she guess I was there ?—did she wish to coma?—was it timidity or indiffer ' onoe-that prevented her. turning her steps tbia way 7 Useless. She would not come to-day . ; and cross and sigh at heart, I left the wood, and wandered homeward to mine inn—the bare, hot ohaMbers of which, with the old fatties of bad stale, tobacco, were calculated -to Booth the nerves that had been stung and fretted and ruined in the green, cool, perfumed chestnut wood. ' Next day would be all joy and hope again. Back once more to the sylvan temple, where I hopsd to meet the shy 'goddess. An hour—two—would pass, and then she floated to and fro across the bit of sunshine, gathering a flower here—ty ing one up there—watering, trimming, dip ping further on—wondering, as she has since told me, and as I little guessed.then, if I were then in the wood watching her. Presently, with a basket on her arm, she would turn into the shady walki, nearer and nearer came her footsteps,Mler and fuller throbbed my heart ; then with her hand on the wicket, she would pause ; had she changed her mind ? would she go hack ? and at that thought my soul yearned for her, that it seemed the influence must act to draw her towards me ; and some times I almost thought it did so, as, open ing the gate, she stepped into the wood, and slowly, with downcast eyes, roved to and fro; insearch, as I believed, of the yellow mushrooms that grow in the chest nut woods of France. A few moments more, and we were to gether she still pursuing her search, though many a mushroom was passed,many another trodden on; I, pacing by her side, speaking low, and at intervals, while she sometimes answered without looking up, sometimes gave me a glance of miraculous eyes in lieu of other answer ; till at last youth and love, and the solitude encouraging, the hand that at first dare not touch hers, wound round her waist, the lips that trem bled to pronounce ber nanie, pressed hers unforbidden. And now, shall I tell the truth ?—a truth that many and many a time since has not only stung me with remorse, but with the thought, that perhaps—well, well, that may or may not have been. But to my confession Young as I was, Suzanne was not the first woman I fancied I had loved ; and though the feeling I had for her was wide ly different from that with which I had re garded others, still it was then pure, and deep and fervent as it ought to have been. At first much as I loved her, much as I desired to obtain her love, I h “:1 no thought of indissolubly unt.ing my destiniy to hers; I had no idea of marriage. I contented myself with letting things run their course whatever they might tend to ; with taking nn thought, and making no engagement for the future. At last our meetings in the ohataigneraie became things of daily occurrence ; and we needed no subterfuges of sketch-book and mushroom-baskets to color them.— Sweet, pure, darling Suzanne ! Who, in her position, at her age, could have with stood the dangers of the situation as she did ? She loved me with all the depth and warmth of a profound and passionate nature ; yet in the midst of her abandon, there Was a purity, a startling, instinctive shyness—a turning of the flank of danger as it were, while appearing unconscious of its vicinity—that at once captivated and repelled me. And days drew on to weeks, and still our positio I remained unaltered. One day we were in the chataigneraie together, strolling side by side, her hand in mine, when the unusual sound of foot steps rustling 'mid the last year's leaves, startled us. We turned round, and at a little distance beheld her father. He was a man still in the prime of life. BUt indifferent health, and a ceaseless ac tivity in the arduous duties of his calling, gave' to his spa.e figure and fine face a worn and prematurely aged look. I shall never forget him, as after a moment's pause he advanced and confronted us, the veins in his bare temples swollen and throbbing with the emotion he sought to control, his face pale and rigid, and his lips com pressed. There was a dead silence for some sec onds. Then his kindling eye flashed on his daughter, arid pointing to the house he said in a low, stern voice : Go in Suzan ne." She went without a word. " And thus, young man," he said, when she was out of hearing, "thus for the grati fication of a passing fancy, to kill the time you know not how to dispose of, you blot. an honest and hitherto spotless name.— You break a father's heart ; you turn from her God—you destroy body and soul—a mere child, motherless and unprotected. I will not tell you what Suzanne has been tome; bow I have reared her. All these things are doubtless tame anti common place, and contemptible to you. But if you had no fear of God or consideration for man before your eyes, could you not have had a little feeling, a little pity, an atom of respect for a father and daughter situa ted as you know us to be? Knowing, morever, that it is not in the heart or in the hand of the minister of God to avenge the wrong and shame done him, by the means other dishonored fathers adopt? Utterly abashed and conscience strick en, I strove to explain ; but my emotion, and the sudden difficu'ty that came over me in expressing myself adequately in a foreign language—fluently as, under ordi nary circumstances, I spoke it—were little calculated to re-assure him. " No," he said, " I know all. Your daily meetings, your prolonged interviews, a certain embarrassment I have lately no ticed in my child, hitherto so frank and fearless ; her altered looks and manner— even note the demeanor of both when I surprised you—what can I conclude from such indication ?" ic I swear to you," I at length found words to explain, that your daughter is wholly and perfectly innocent. Think of me as you will, but at least believe in this, and assure yourself that your child is sin less. He looked at me sorutinizingly for some seconds: then his face and voice relaxed. I believe you! There is but one thing you can now do, if you are sincere in your wish to repair this evil. Promise me you will never see Suzanne again, and that you will, as soon as possible, quit this neighbor hood.' I promised s and we parted. How I passed that night it needs not now to tell, nor all the revolution the thoughts it brOught worked in my heart and in my ideas. The immediate result was, that next morning at dawn I rose from my sleepless bed, and wrote to-the pastor, asking his daughter's hand ; not conceal ing the difficulties of my position, bat ad ding that if he would overlook present and material disadvantages he might trust that no sin of omission or commission on my part should ever cause him to regret his having accorded: his motion to our. mist• ig -11,1 N : ; g:l •:y • -i: SUS : :I : 00 . 10 T a. LANCASTER CITY, PA.. TUESDAY MORNING, JULY 13, 1858. tiage, and that I feared not but that with time, patience, and perseverance, I shotdd be able to secure a means of existence. At nineteen it is so easy to dispose of these questions of ways and means : .t to ob tain everything and to dispense with-every thing. The answer came quickly, bron y the pastor in person. You are an honest lad,' he said. I will not now enter into the question of your youth and that of Suzanne :—my child's reputation is at stake, and she is deeply at tached to you. That of 'your prospects is one we have yet to discuss ; but the first subject to be entered upon and finally ex plained is the one of your father's consent to the marriage. In the first place, by the law of France, which is, I believe, different to that of England, no man or woman, even if of age, can marry without producing proof of their parents' acquiescence. In the second, even were the law otherwise, I should hold myself bound for conscience sake, not to . take advantage of the most desirable proposal, if it were made against the wishes and without the sanction of yours. Are you likely to obtain this !' Here was difficulty I had neither antici pated nor provided for. I had thrown off all authority, deeming my own sufficient for my governance, and here, at the first important crisis of my. life, I found its in efficiency to get me through my earliest difficulty. Supposing I made up my mind tacitly to admit my mistake, and ask my father's consent to my marriage, was it in the least likely that he would, under all the circumstances, accord it ! Never mind, I must make the attempt, and so admitting to the pastor that I had not as yet provided for such a contingency, he left me to write to my father. A week of agonizing suspense passed, during which I in accordance with a prom ise made to Suzanne's father, never sought to meet her,—nay to avoid a shadow of suspicion, never went to our chesnut wood to get a peep of her in the garden. At last the letter came, and sick with agitation, I tore it open. It was brief, grave, somewhat stern, but yet not differ ent to what I deserved, and what I expec ted. My father said he had reflected much on my demand :—that he saw many reasons why ho should refuse it, yet he was so anxious to meet my wishes when they pointed to any course that was not likely to lead me into moral mischief, and that, afforded me a chance of obtaining steadi ness of conduct, that if • I could provide him proofs of my intended bride's charac ter and position being such as I represen ted them, he could not withhold his permis sion. This was easily done ; proud and elate, I boldly presented myself at the presby tery, and within a month, we were married, despite all the delays and difficulties that the French laws, which seems especially framed to throw every possible obstacle, hindrance, and petty vexation in the way of the impatient lover, could find to cir cumvent us. I look back now to the time, and see through my spectacles—through a little dimmed, now and then—not myself, and my Suzanne, the wife of my youth, as I saw her in those days ; but a boy and girl I remember to have known them. A hope ful, happy, foolish pair ; brimful of youth and life and love ; seeing all things, each other included, quite other than they were; yet so confident in themselves, in their ex perience, their ideas, their impressions : living from day to day, like the birds on the branch, as if all the world were their storehouse, and no to-morrow were before them. Quarrelling and making sweet friends again ; fretting about a lea or a word, jesting at questions involving the most important material interests ; averted looks and murmured reproaches over a flower presented and lost ; not a thought or a care for gold squandered. The place was so ndeared to me, and Suzanne and her father felt so reluctant to part, that I resolved,--my father, who made us a small, through respectable allowance, not objecting—to settle, for a time, at all events, in the neigh liorhood of La Rochelle. • So we took a little house in the midst of a garden within five minutes walk of the presbytery, and there set up a household, served by a plump Rochellaise damsel, whose clear starched capot and gold ear rings, heart and cross; were on Sundays, the admiration of the place , and a lad emancipated from sabots, to work in the garden, and help Nannie in the rougher occupations of the house. He fell in love with her, I remember, and be being some years her junior, and she being rather a belle and virtuous withal, the was moved, by all these united considentions,to boa his ears on his attempting to,demonstrate the state of his feelings by trying to kiss her ; when attired as above recorded, her beauty shone forth too resplendent for him to suo oeed in controlling his youthful passion. Before a year was out the two children had a doll to put in the baby house, and to play with from morning till night. They nursed it alternately; and worshipped it, and had moments of jealousy about it, and wondered over it, and found it a miracle of genius and intellect, wheu to stranger eyes it was capable of nothing but sleeping and sucking and stretching its toes before the fire. When it should walk ! () when it shbuld walk, and when it should speak its mother's name! When it did, the child mother lay in her grave in the Protestant cemetry at La Rochelle, and the boy father took it there to strew flowers on the turf. When I first awoke from the stunning ef fect of the blow, I .was like a ship that, struck full by a tremendous breaker, stand for a moment paralyzed, grieving, then staggers blindly on, without rudder or com pass, both swept away in the general ruin. The wild spirit within me, which the peaceful and innocent happiness of the last two years had soothed and stilled, broke forth again, and my first impulse was to rush from the scene of my lost felicity, and in a life of reckless adventure seek to lose myself and the recollection of all •I had won, all I had been bereft of in that short space. Thank God! I had the child that saved me. And now at twenty-one, when most men have hardly made their first start in life, I, a father and a widower, had passed the fir - st stages of my manhood's- career, and, was about to gather up the shattered frag ments of my youth's hopes and prospects, and try to patch them together to carry me through the rest of it. At first my father, now all affection and sympathy, since the elm merriege had brought, urged my returning with the , child to England. Bat this a strange feel ing, partaking perhaps more of jealousy than anything else, made me decline doing. ' On Mabel—' Ma belle,' as Suzanne used to call her,half-believing that that was really' the translation of the name—had now concentrated'all the love, the time or the attention of either,Zo as to distract it from the other. No one could ,exert in fluence or authority over either, to the ex clusion or prejudice, in however slight a degree, of the other. My child had no mother ; no one else, therefore, however near or dear, should, in any degree, supply her place but myself. I would be all and everything to her ; and if she never missed her mother, to me alone should she owe it. A foolish tho't, perhaps a selfish one—yet who shall say, seeing from what it doubtless saved me ? Happily the child was healthy, sweet tempered, and really, al; paternal illusions apart, singularly beautiful and intelligent. My baby, my little Queen Mab ! I gee her now, as in her black frock and straw hat I used to carry her forth at first in the still warm evenings, when the glow and the glare of tne day had passed by, and the se 1.-breeze stirred the roses in the garden. With her I did not feel quite so fright fully alone : her signs, her attempts at speech, her little wilfulnesses, her caress, her ceaseless claims on my aiti and atten tion, withdrew me as nothing else could from constant brooding over my loss. La ter, when I could bear it—l could not, for a long time—l used to take her to the chataigneraie, where I was wont to watch Suzanne, and sitting there as of 31d leave her to play on the grass beside me, while with half-shut eyes, I gazed on the glowing spot at the end of the green walk, dream ing, dreaming, With a gnawing at my heart, of the shadow that used to cross it, of the footstep that used to come along that sha ded alley, of the pause with the hand on the wicket. Then I remembered that now not all the yearning and carving of my soul could, as I fancied it did of old, bring her one step nearer to me : and then my grief and desolation would find. vent in passion ate tears, and the child, who was too well used to see mo weep to be alarmed, as children mostly are, would climb up on my. breast, and draw my hands from before my facie, and kiss and soothe me with her sweet baby caress. It was a great, though secret jny to MO that though gentle and tractable to all, she could ho said to love no one but me. I think the excellent pastor guessed the ex istence of this feeling; for fond as he was of the child, and strong and natural as were his claims to her affection; he ever avoided to put them conspicuously forward, or to attempt, in any way, to interfere with her management. For this, even more than his many other proofs of regard and kind ness, I was deeply grateful. I encouraged the child to be familiar with him. But though she showed defereikee and duty, and even returned his oaresses, 1 could see with secret triumph that her heart was not in he; acts, and that as soon as she thought she ought, without offence, return to me, she would glide from his knee, and stealing to mine, nestle on my breast„ content content to rest there till we were alone again. Then the repressed spirits would break forth, and she was once more gleeful and joyous. Early in the morning I would awake, and behind the half drawn curtain, watch her playing, silently, lest she would be disturbed by me in the dewy garden. Wan dering to and fro, with her hands crossed behind her, now pausing before this or that flower, smelling it, sucking the pearled drops in its cup ; then racing away cuddenly, wild with strong young life, prancing and plunging in imitation of a high mettled steed, or chasing the kitten that was not more graceful or lithe of limbs than she. And so on, till the opening of my lattice announced that I was astir. 0, the sun shine of the radiant ("flee! She had her mother's wonderous eyes", but with a fine fair Enelish complexion, and warm light brown English hair. Then pit-a-pat up the. narrow staircase came the quick step, the door was flung open, and in two boun s she was on my bed, hugging and kissing me, laughing, patting my cheeks, laying her sweet cool face against mine, and chat tering the strange mingled dialect between French and English, that was sweeter to my ears than the purest Tuscan. Then off again, like a butterfly, opening my books, putting my watch to her ear, and looking solemnly curious at the sound; turning over my clothes, scribbling wild flourishes on my paper with pen and pencil; and, quick as flight of bird away again to announce to Nannie that "le grand ohere" the great d.,rling, was awako and so hungry, so hungry for his breakfast. And so through the day, however I might be occupied, she was never away from me for an hour. Light and restless, like some winged thing, she was to and fro, up and down in the house and garden, all the livelong day-, dancing, singing, talking to herself when I was too occupied to attend to her ; no more disturbing me in the busiest hours than the sunshine that streamed in at my window, or the swallows that built and chirped in the eaves above me. Long walks we used to take together, she bounding by my side, now clinging to my hand, now springing off after a wild flower or berry, till lap and arms were full; all beaming and joyous until a beggar came in sight ; then the bright face would lengthen, the step slacken, and the small money I always oarried in my pocket to provide against such emergencies was brought into requisition, and given with willing hand and gentle words of pity and condolence, and for some paces further the little heart and brain were yet oppressed with the impression of the sight of suffer ing. In the evenings, by the dying sunlight or the winter fire, she would climb to my knee, claiming a story ; and while I related Some lemembered history, or improvised some original one, she sat, with rap.ured face, gazing in mine, those eyes so full of wondering interest, those ruby lips apart, showing the glistening teeth, putting in now and then some earnest question, pausing long at the close of the narrative to muse over it, and digest, fully certain points that had made a deeper impression than the rest of the tale. Then, as the light fell and the stillness of the evening deepened into night, the head drooped on my breast, and, like a folded flower, the blossom that brightened and perfumed my lonely , life slept quietly, while I, sad and silent, wandered mournfully over.the past. I /ook baok now to tint period of my =BUOBANAJI, life, and again it is not I whom I see sit ting there before me. It is one I knew, whose affections, cares and troubles were as my own to me ; but whose 'thoughts, opinions and aspirations were quite other than those I now had, and on which I now act. The child seems hardly real, dis tineitly as I remeniber every—the slightest —detail concerning her; she comes before me in my lonely hours like' the remem brance of some vivid dream-dreamed long ago; some vision sent to cheer and brighten my pathway through some,long past stage of existence that then seemed drawing on to its close. We know so little what we can live through azd over, till the present is emerged in the things that have been ; till the pages on which are inscribed in black letters the great griefs of our lives are turned, and those that contain pleasanter passages are laid over them. Mabel had achieved her tenth year be fore I had reached my thirtieth birth-day, and all that time we had never been sepa rated ; had never lived any other life than the life I have been describing. ' I had taught her to read and write ; Nannie had taught her to sew ; but other accomplishments she had none. Partly that strange jealousy for other interference, partly a horror I could not control of sub jecting my fairy to the drudgery of learn ing, made me shrink from calling in other aid to advance her education. It was better that it should be so. lam always glad now to think that I did as I have done. My child had been lent me, not given. For ten years her blessed and soothing, purifying and holy influence was granted to tame and save me. For ten years God spared one of his angels to lead me thro' the first stages to Heaven ! The task accomplished, He saw fit to re call the loan. It is thirty years, and upwards now, since Mabel died. I have buried another wife since then, and two fair children ; and four more yet remain to me. They are good, dear children to me, none better, and handsome boys and girls, too. But they are none of them like my Mab, my little fairy queen—and I am not sorry ; it is as well as it is. otrioozaliar scrsoorm. SKETCHES FROM MY NOTE BOOK SCHOOL APPARATUS A few explanatory remarks seem neces sary to introduce the table below. The black-board surface in every ease where it was possible, was measured, and not esti mated. When it became necessary to judge of dimensions by the eye, I was careful not to put my figures too high. In the total below is not included the black board surface of a number of the new houses and some of the old that were un visited, in all perhaps twenty. At a moderate estimate, these contain 1200 square feet of surface. The schools of the city are also not included. Were these all embraced the sum would rather exceed 25,000 square Jeet- than fall short of it. J have placed the general title of Ap paratus at the head of this article, not that I intended to give a summary of all kinds of school-furniture, for this would require an enlarged table—but I have selected what I conceived to be three of the most important. articles pertaining to the school room, and design making these the criteria of the rest. As to maps—the only kinds noted were Peltnn's and Bidwell's. In rooms where single maps of olden date were hanging seemingly more for ornament than instruction, I took no note of them. In some places where very good maps had been made by the scholars, a record was made of it ; but it was difficult to find in what category these should be placed. Not all those credited with Pelton's maps have full sets—some have only two, some three, &c.,—but the great majority are full. The number of cards is certainly below the truth ; oftentimes, no doubt, they were concealed from my view by maps and desk-lids, and occasionally they may have been overlooked. It is also proper to state that under this head I have placed none but Webb's seri s. Single sheets of pasteboard, with printed letters, &c., may be found in almost every school house, but these we did not see fit to dignify with the title of cards. Beside those enumerated below, globes, terrestrial and celestial, Alphabet blocks, Numerical frames, Elocutionary charts, Physiological ()harts, and a variety of other home-made and Yankee-manufactured helps are to be found in many of our best schools. About 150 Elocutionary charts have been introduced within the two past years, notwithstanding the exorbitant price at which they are sold. Some Boards have very generously agreed to furnish all their schools. Martin, we believe, was the first to make this move. eq BI. . ft. ,b'd.l Ave age.r- I Maps. Cards IMMO 530' 5311 159 391 488 138 279 819 182 130 836 456 1008 1189 276 450, 1200 355 686 479 529 310 1 535 1 540 I 126 I 624 50 120 21,991 We should molt ao stronger azipsweut to prove the progress -of the Common School System in this county, than to place the amount of black-board surface four years ago, side by side with the above.— Indeed, iiimy business, one is almost led at first entrance, to rate the condition of the school according to the size of the blaok-board—and in the majority of oases such an estimate would,not be wide of the truth. Last year the increase of black surface Was 6000 square feet, and at this rate it will require at least - four or five years to supply our county adequatelyr.— . The size of the existing black-lxtirds may be said to write the history of the schools during . the past five years. First we find the little 2 feet by 4 1 and to the shame of a district that ought to do bet ter one such board still disgraces our county. Then came the era for ,‘ big" boards, sby6 or 6 by 3. Many of these still exist in some places as the only black surface, and mark the stage of progress for those districts ; but most of them are used now as alphabet boards or mere supple ments. Next came the period when boards 16 by 4 and 20 by 4 were introduced, and these constitute the surface now of the medium and some of the better schools. Lastly, some of our districts have inaugurated the monster black-board.— East Donegal averages for her thirteen schools 147 square feet of black-surface. One school house in this county, found where you might not look for it, contained 250 square feet when I was there, and 1 was informed they had ordered another board of 100 square. feet. Breeknock averages but 9 squaro feet;. some others but little better. We have spoken of the connection of good schools and big black-boards. There are exceptions to this rule. Last fall I visited a school with a respectably large board ; but the teacher informed me they had no chalk yet that term !! ! She in tended to get it for three weeks, but al ways forgot it! ! Another informed me that it was the Directors' duty to furnish chalk, and that she would teach all session ra her than buy it herself. I would recom mend her for economy. Others I found who had one precious piece carefully stored away in the desk for special occa sions ; whose boards were covered not with chalk dust--but mud dust, unwiped for weeks. With such teachers, .the size of the board matters but little—the school is doomed. We have some men who disbelieve in the utility of the blank-board and call it a crotchet of new-fangled humbuggery. If we thought it worth while, wo would ex plain its uses, but we imagine the cud would not justify the means. At some future Institute we propose to make the practical illustrations of the black-board a part of the instructions. If a farmer or mechanic expects rapid and good work from his men, he will fur nish good tools. If parents and Directors hope for great results from the Teacher, why do they not •give him the proper ap paratus ? But they object' that Teachers need many more helps than formerly.— Farmers also use much more smachinery than in days gone by—mechanics also.— Shall dressers of wood—hewers of stone— artificers in iron and brass—and tillers of the soil, all be permitted to introduce im proved machinery, and the instructors of the mind alone be held to old methods and old implements? Away with such Chinese conservatism ! Such notions cannot live in our age. Teachers may be crippled in their efforts yet for a season, but the day is coming when our school houses will be as completely furnished as our shops and farms. At present we must look to patrons to do the work in the main. Our Directors are too poor, too stingy, or too much of cowards to act efficiently, in many places. Teachers of the right grit, how ever, usually manage in a term or two to get what they want. By private contri bution nearly all the maps in the county have been introduced. Parents will give if they are properly approached. Now and then one will denounce Pelton's maps as pieces of the black art, and refuse to give, but their number is growing beauti fully small. In one case a teacher started out 'with his subscription list, and in a short time he had more money than he needed for the maps ; then he thought he would get a chart, too, but the • sum was still too large, and he added cards, regis ter, pointers, to his purchases, and still there was a balance. What an ex ample for teachers and parents ! A few more years of toil, and most if not all of our houses will be furnished, and that too by generous, voluntary efforts and contri butions. Sow the seed, though another may reap the harvest ! JNO. S. CRUMB AUGH, county Superintendent. CARDS. TIE BIOV AL.--WILLIAM S. ABIWEG, Attornry at Law, ham removed his office (rum hi• Gamer place Into South Duke street, nearly opposite the Trinity Lutheran Church. apr 8 tf 12 SA.IIIIIEL R. REYNOLDS, Attorney at Law. Office, No. 14 North Duke street, opposite tho Court House. may 5 tf 16 N {T AIL, T.IIIoPH v. ATTUILaIEY AT LAW, mar 311 y 11 Brnstottrao, Lancaster Co., Pa. D R. M 9 C ALL A., DENTIST .-- Office No. 4 East King ,treat, Lancaster, Pa. apr 18 tf 13 MEWTON LIGHTNER, ATTORNE Y 111 AT LAW, has his Office lu North Duke street, nearly opposite tho Court House. Lancaster, apr 1 • tf 11 LDIIS J. NEFF, Attorney at Law..- IA Office with B. A. Bhteffar, Esq., south-west comer of Ountre Swam, lancuter. may 15, '55 ly 17 ItEMOVA.L.WIL LIAM H. FORDNEY, Attorney at L.w, has removed his office from .%urth Queen street to the building In the south-east corner of Centre Square, formerly known as Hubby's Hotel. Lancaster, npril 10 IMON P. EBY, ATTORN KY AT [JAW, OFFICE:—No 38 North Duke street, may 111 y 171 LANCASTER, PENNY fiEtEDELLICK S. PYFER, A.TTON.NEY Ar LAW. OTTICIL—No. 1.1 NOKIII Dun STREET, WEST BIDE, LAN CIAbTEIL, Pa. apr 2O tf 14 JESSE LANDIS, Attorney at Low.--Of. flee one door east of Lechler's Hotel, East King street, Lancaster, Pa. ~All kinds of Scriveubig—such as writing Wills, Deeds, Mortgages, Accounts, Ac., will be attended to with correctness and despatch. may 15, '65 tf.1.1 JAMES BLitt:sir, Attorney at Initv..,A3f -Bce in East King street, two doors east of Lechier's Hotel, Lancaster, Pa. Sir All business connected with his profession, and all kinds of writing, such as preparing Deeds, Mortgagee, Willa, Stating Accounts, ac., promptly attended to. may 15. tf-17 JOHN F. BRINTON, ATTORNEY AT LAW, PHILADELPHIA, Hu removed his aloe to his riddance, No. 24 Routh Bth Street, above Spruce. Rork" by parmirdon to Hon. EL G. Lose, " • A. L. Hens, " FISILRIE DIMON, arm 24 lye* " TRADDIII3 vmmm FIDWVID m ' TNL A W , No. 6 Nous Dou mum—Amsn Cony Hoax, LANOALMIIt, PA. twit _ . WIALUIS' WRITESTDE,' BURGEON N7lBT.—Oglce In' North Queen street, ltreetly over Liles Drug Store. Locator, may 27,1866. 1118 E 16017A.L....DR. J. T. BAKER, HOE CEPATLIIO PHYSICIAN, his remeeed his aloe to Lime etreet, between Orange and Bait King streets, west side. , Reference—Professor W. A. Gardner. Philadelphbt. Calls from the conatry will be promptly attended to. , spr 6 . tf pECTEIL D, INTERS, REAL ESTATE AGENT, will 'tuna .to the Renting of Homes, Collectingl House toand Ground Rents, do. Agendas entrustedis Care will be thankfully ftteiTtld, and- metal attended fo.— Etatinfsetoi7 reference • ere= Office N. EL earner of SEVENTH and RANSOM streets, Second Floor, No: 10. feb 17 116 . TtittiA4 AND CHEMICAL STORE. DR The subscriber having re cored his store to the new banding nearly opposite his old stand, and directly..pposis the Cross Keys Hotel has now on hand a well selected stock of articles belonging to the Drag business oeusieldng In put of Oils, Adds, Spices, Seed-, Alcohol, Pondered Artlelee, Sarsaparillas, Ac., Ac., to which the. attention of country merchants, physicians and consumers in general Is Invited. TLLOSIAB 'MLitt/X.IM feb 9tf 4 West Ring street, Lamer. e TO FA RlllERS...blilaving been appoint. ed by ?denim Atien 3 / 4 Needles agents In Lauesner for the sale of their celebrated SUPER PHOSPHATE OF LIMB, we would call the attention of Farmers to this Fertiliser, It being superior to all others; and from the testimony of those who have used it for some years past. we feel author, tied in saying it is the but application for Corn, Ws. Wheat, Grans and othor crops which require a vigorous and permanent stimulant, that has ever been offered to the public. Apply to 13E0. CALDER. k co., East Orange street, 24 door from North Queen et.,-end at Greed's Landing on the Conestoga. E XCELSIOR EATING HOUSE. NORTECQI:I7MI MILTS; MAR TOO RALLROAD. The eubseriber has Just opened an Eating Moues and Restaurant in the basement of Resse's Hotel. North Queen street, near the Railroad, where everything will be done up In first-rate style. so as to please the most faetidioas.— Hie are such as to commend the freshest and best Oysters, &c., Ac., the market affords, and he flatters himself In being able to cater to the tastes of all who may patronize his establishment. His charges will be mod erate. WILLIAM LOWREY. mar 15 If 9 WOD.--litokory, Oak and Pine Wood of the boat quatity, for Sale by , L 4 ' GEORGE CALDER k CO., Office East Orange street, 2d door from North Queen, and at firnefre Landing on the Conestoga. FJn 20 tf2.4 lISSOL T lON OF CO-PARTNEUSHIP. El The subscribers, under the firm of Th .mpaen & Sut ton, to the Gwen Making busluesa, dissolved by mutual conseut on the 3d of February hat: All persona having settlements with, or indebted to, the firm, will call on Al. bert G. Hutton, who will attend to that buedneas FRANKLIN THOMPSON. ALBERT G. SUTTON. Now Holland, April 6, 1868. N. B. Tho Coach Making Diathesis, In all Its yartnue branches, will be carried on at tho old stand In New Hot. land, by tho subscriber, who will be thankful Pr shwas of public patronage. ALBERT B. BUTTON. apr d aurs 12 IOOD MOULDINGS. IV itr UNITED STATES WOOD SIOULDINO, TWINING AND SCROLL SAWING MILL kiftetitth sired, between Market . and Chesnut streets, Philadelphia. Also, Sash, Blinds, Shutters and Window Braman for sale low—all of which arc of tho best matorNis and work. manship. BENJAMIN ESLER, may 11 lv 18 Proprietor. DENNSYLVANIA PATENT AGENCY. L J. FRANKLIN it BIOART, or Lancaster city, obtains Lettere Patent from the U. S. Patent Off Ice, on the mod reasonable terms. Drawings of all kinds of Machinery, Architecture, or Surveys. correctly executed by him. Like. wise Deeds, Bonds and other instruments of writing. Offire—No. a Fri' inn Buildings, Prince street. Apr 25 tf 14 GALLIAftD & MARSHALL. WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DRUGGISTS, 1521 :MARKET STREET, PHILADELPHIA, Deal-ro In Paints of every variety. °taus of all kinds. Fronk and American; Imported Drugs, &c., du, &c., o hick ore now offered for sale at very low prices, .12e. PLEASE CALL AND EXAMINE OUR Droite. mar 2:1 pAITLICK & McCULLEY 9 SI NEW IRON AND BRASS FOCI \ DRY, . . The bubseri bens haefng leased the Foundry recently erected by Mr. WILLIAM Dittka, adjoining his Machine Shop, in North Water street, between Orange and Chesnut ntreete : also having bought nut the Strasburg Foundry and parte of the fixtures of other establishtnenta of the s me: kind, and having the most complete collection of Pattern, in the City, are prepared to furnish Iron and Braes CASTINGS OF EVERY DESCRIPTION, neither light. or ns heavy no can be made elsewhere,) at the shortest notice, and warranted to be dune in the most workmanlike manner. • ....• . . Sloth being practical workmen—one a Moulder and the other a Pattern Maker—they flatter themselves that, by doing their own work, and having purchased their fixtures at very low prices, in c , nsequence of which their expenses will be lees than any other establishment of the kind here, they can make Castings and finish them at more reason. able prices thou has heretofore ruled in this City. !JET Strict attention paid to repairing STOVES. ORATES and CYLINDERS of all kinds and sizes kept constantly ou hand. They hove on hand, and are constantly melting new designs for CELLAR ORATES, RAILING, and all kinds of Ornamental Castings. Ilij - The highest price will be paid for Old Iron, Copper nod Drone. We respectfully solicit a +here of public patronage, and shall spare no pains to please all who may favor to with their custom. LEWIS PAULICK, Lanooster, May 4. CARSON M'CULLEY. tf 16 • F ARRELS d HERRING, 34 WALNUT AND 25 litteNlTE STREETS, PHIL'S. Solo MautOneturera in this Mato of lIERVI.VG'S FIRE PRO OF SAFES, WHICH MEWED TUE MEDAL AT THE WORLD'S FAIR. Them Safes are toarranted Fret from Dampness. Also, Manufacturers of Mall'. Patent Powder Proof Lock, Ilkewlso awarded a Medal at the World's Fair; Chilled Iron Burglar l'roof Safes, Bank Vaults, Bank LockA, Steel Chests, kc. sap 29177 RoTTECK I ;B OI Ir u s i TORY cur THE ORIENTAL AND WE 4 TERN . SIBERIA. NINEVALI AND ITS REMAINS. PRINCE OF THE HOUSE OF DAVID. MEMOIRS OF NAPOLEON—HIS COURT AND FAMILY. mar 30 tf ll ELIAS BARE & CO, 31 But Bing st. rpAx NOTLCE.—The Duplicate of the Consohdeted City Tsx to now ready for those persons who wish to save the 5 per cont. All City Taxes paid on or before the first of July are entitled to the 5 per cent. deduction. HENRY 0. WENTZ, Treasurer A Receiver, Office Won to's Store, East King A Centre Square. may 4 tf 18 BOOK FOR THE MILLION. A . (JUST PUBLISHED.) A Treatise on Fermented Liquors, nr the Art of Brewing, Rectifying and Manufacturing Sugars, Wines, Spirits and all kinds of Liquors. including Cider and Vino , gar, with Wood Cuts. This work, which has been favors. bly reviewed by the N. Y. Preen, contains 1000 valuable. directions in Medicine, Metallurgy, Pyrotochay, Artificial Guano, Cosmetics, Artificial Gum Arabic, Artificial Gems, Blesching of Shell Lae, sealing Was, Cements, Pastes, Cleaning. Cloansing and Clearing Materials. Family Soaps, !Larch Polish, Cologne and other Perfumed Waters, - Dentrlfices, Antique tills. Hair Dyes and Reftorers. Solders and Silvrtings, Varni,he• and Inks. Price $2, mailed freer by the author. Da. In FEUCHTWANGEB., Practical Chemist, 143 Maiden Lane, hew York. mo 4 Itm 16 THE UNITED STATES DEMOCRATIC REVIVIr. TEIZ UNITZD BMW DEMOCIILTIO RiVIZW i 8 now in its Twentieth year—matrly the age of human life. During this period many political Monthlies have been born, and have expired, leaving the field open, and, at present, unoccupied, except by this Review. Tho previous numbers of the Nati , Snooze having received the approval of the Democratic press throughout the coma try,—and of all the old subscribers, with a large accesssion of new—it is hoped the present number will meet with at least equal favor. TERMS. Single Sobeeribere, In &denote $ 3 00 Clubs of Five, o 12 °° l Toone . . ~ Ten,,, 40 23 00 0,1 A - dd ..- . Twenty, ii, AU Poet masters are requested to act as agents, and upon the receipt .1 gl2 00 from any Agent, a Sixth copy of the Review e 111 be forwarded to his address, gratis, for one year. Communications to be addressed to 0 BVt ACKEIAMER, "11. B. DZIIMILLTIC UMW," 336 Broadway, N. Y. mare us RATE OF INTEREST INCREASED.» We will pay hereafter, until further notice_ 11,2 AND • aa.7 ran Cart. tnanifff on our CallaCat.ol of Deposit, leaned for one year. Oa Certilicaue for lees than one year and on transient deposits, payable on demand, Ms Pat clan. per annum, as heretofore. hepositors not drawing interest, will always be ammo. modeled In Proportion to the value of their accounts. Bucks bought and sold on commission only. Document money bought at loweit rate.. Collections promptly made, and Drafts drawn on nib - delphia, New York and Baltimore. The members of the firm are individually liable fcc all the obligations of John Oyger Co., consisting of JOHN OYONE, _- BENJ. ESIII.Rm DAVID BAa nmAN HENBY-31. apr tf Rom: Ctriursow, Cadger TERSAI,IOB ISIS/LYS. PO W DEL TPowdered Rosin, Antimony, "FidiflignAk, Sulphur Baltpetre, Atuaßetids, Alum, At. But salg it • spr 21 V' 14 THOMAS ELLMAILEB. Drug and Ob•mtml:StnoK Wok inn IL CHEAP FOR, - O'LLE: zo o WHITE LEAD - . of the best, et 7 " A lyea% . it; ei r XT:t l i t yELLOW, lbe per ibt °eau _ vrt petlb.; ULTRA SILKLISZ-BLILI 'best opsan b 0 ate. per lb.; WiIbLILSE said I' alias BL 60 eta. per iI3.;,TIIDSN'SILEIRSZIMAN esan• 00.Leitr , fromt° 8 ! 1 2f...110 Per giant:4A 50 "" Dafflbik'aewatirlior, par also WOOL - 1119):..UPAntsifflum , litittnakstid step dw , 84 NaraintlSMOStriban. 0 8.44- tress 80 • :.(.'..{:..Y. • Nr NO 26.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers