<H)e Lancaster Jtntclluu'uaT. V*)L. LX. THE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER PUBLISHED EVERT TUESDAY, AT NO. 8 NOBTII DUKE STREET, BY GEO. SANDERSON. terms Subscription.— Two Dollars per annum, payable in ad vance. No subscription discontinued until all arrear ages are paid, unless at the option of the Editor. Adveetizsments. —Advertisements, not exceeding one square, (12 lines,) will be inserted three times for one dollar, and twenty-five cents for each additional inser tion. Those of greater length in proportion. Job Printing—Such as Hand Dills, Posters, Pamphlets. Blanks, Labels, &c , Ac., executed with accuracy and «n the shortest notice. “OLD CHURCH BELLS.” The following lines, extracted from an English paper, are well worth preserving: Ring out merrily, Loudly, cheerily, Blithe old bolls from the steeple tower, Hopefully, fearfully, Joyfully, tearfully, Moveth the bride from the maiden bower. Clouds there are none in tho fair Summer sky Sunshine flings benison down from on high ; Children sing loud, as the train moves along, “Happy the brido that tho sun shincth on. Knell out drearily, Measured and wearily, Sad old bells from the steeple grey ; Priests chanting lowly, Solemnly, slowly, Posaeth the corse from tho portul to-day. Drops from the leaden clouds heavily l'ulK Dripping all over the plutne and the pair; Murmur oik folk, as tho train moves along, “Blessed the dead that the rain raineth on. Toll at the hour of prime, Matin, and vesper chime, Loved old bells from the steeple high— Hulling, like holy waves, Over the low|£ graves. Floating up, prayer-fraught, into the sky. Solemn the lesson your lightest notes teach, Stern is the preaching yuur iron tongues preach ; Kinging in life from the bud to tho bloom, Kinging the dead to their rest in the tomb. Peal out evermore — Peal as ye pealed of yore, Brave old bells, on each .Sabbath day ; In sunshine and gladness, Through clouds and through sadness, Kridul and burial have passed away. Tell us life's pleasures with death are still rife Tell us that Death ever leadeth to Life; Life is our Labor, and Death is our rest, If happy tho Living, the Dead are the blest. BOTH SIDES. A man in his carriage was riding along. A gaily-dressed wife by his side; In satin and laces she looked like a queen. And he like a king in his pride. A wood-sawyer stood on the street as they passed. Tho carriage and couple he eyed. And said, as he worked with his saw on the log. “I wish 1 was rich and could ride.’’ The man in the carriage remarked to bis wife. One thing I would give if I could— -1 would give all my wealth for the strength and the health Of the man who saweth the wood. A pretty young maid with a bundle of work, Whoso face as the morning was fair. Went trippiDg along with a smile of delight, While humming a love-breaching air. She looked on the carriage—the lady she saw, Arrayed in apparel so line, And said, in a whisper, “1 wish from my heart Those satins and laces were mine.*’ The lady looked out ou the maid with her work, So fair in a calico dress, And said, “I’d relinquish position and wealth, Her beauty and youth to possess.” Thus in this world, whatever our lot, Our minds and our time wo employ In longing and sighing for what wc have not. Ungratoful for what wo enjoy. We welooine tho pleasure for which wo have sighed Tho heart has a void in it still, Growing deeper and wider the longer we live. That nothing but heaven can fill. THE GIPSEY’S REVENGE; OH, THE STOLES CHILD, I!Y ALOYSIA ‘ Welcome, welcome, Aunt Ella,’ cried a group of pretty, merry girls, as a sweet, | benevolent-looking woman entered the j drawing-room where they were conversing. | ‘ We were just speaking about you, and wishing you were here to tell us one of your delightful stories.’ ‘ Most willingly, my dear girls, would 1 oblige you, but indeed I feel so sorrowful to-night, I fear my tales would fail to interest you.’ ‘No-fear of that, Aunt Nellie, but as you arc so sad, we will wait until some other evening.’ But she, dear kind auntie, seeing we were disappointed, said, ‘ girls, I will tell you the cause of my depression this even ing ; but in imagination I carry you back to the days when I was a laughing, light hearted girl like yourselves. Full of life and gladness, I tripped gaily along the pathway of life, plucking flowers of affec- i tion from every bower, little thinking that my bright dreams would so soon be dis- 1 pelled by the dark clouds of bitter misery, j ‘ Our house was a perfect paradish; j content and happiness beamed on every j inmate’s face. One evening as we were j enjoying the pure pleasures of the social ] circle, a tap was heard at the door, and a j servant entered, announcing to my father j that a stranger desired to seo him. i ‘ He instantly rose, and upon leaving ] the room was met by a tall dark man, wrapped in a heavy cloak. ‘ < I presume you are Dr. Austin,’ said j the man, looking earnestly at my father, | who graciously smiled assent. ! “Well, Doctor, my wife is dangerously j ill, and 1 want you to eome with all j possible haste to see her.’ “Is she very ill V inquired my father, who did not relish the idea of leaving home on such an inclement night. ‘ ‘Yes, very,’ replied the man, sternly, ‘ so for God’s sake be quick, Doctor, or she will be dead before we reach my home —home he repeated—once indeed it was a happy one—earth’s choicest gifts were mine—but now, ruined and desolate, and she, its light, its beauty, my wife, my own darling wife, dying, surrounded by misery and want. Oh, my God, he' groaned in deep agony, ‘ if it is thy will spare me this dreadful trial.’ ‘ My father gently touched him as he sat with his face buried iu,his hands, say ing the horses were ready? In a moment they were rapidly driving to the stranger’s home, and ‘ onward, onward, for the sake of Heaven,’ were the only words he uttered. ‘ Alighting at a miserable cottage, at the outskirts of the city, the man pushed open a creaking door, and entering a miserably cheerless room, beckoned my father to approach the bed upon which the sick woman was lying. ‘ My father saw in a moment that no human aid could avail her anything ; and was with reluctance he imparted the news to her despairing husband ; but he, in whose bosom the lamp of her life was not yet extinguished, begged my father to do something at least to relieve the sufferer. ‘ ‘ William, eome near me—l wish to speak to you ere I depart,’ murmured the dying woman. ‘ The man arose, and kneeling by the bed-side, took her pale thin hand in his, and kissing it, fondly exclaimed, < Oh, my Mary, little I thought when first I clasped this loved hand in mine, and pledged before God’s holy altar to love and protect you forever, and when I took you from your friends to share my home and heart, oh, Mary, I never dreamed that this would be the end of it—wretch that I am—why did I not leave you in the midst of the comfort and affluence that once was yours, and you would have escaped this misery.’ 4 < William,’ said the sufferer gently, 4 I am dying ; do not disturb my last moments by thoughts like these, for never did I regret my choice—and if wealth and luxury were mine, 1 would give them all for thee.’ 4 My father, who had been standing at the window, was about to leave, when , the dying woman, who had forgotten his presence, motioned him to draw near. 4 4 Listen, Doctor, to what I have to say. It does not, indeed, concern you, and perhaps I am trespassing on your kindness, but I feel with the goodness of your noble heart you will listen to my story.’ 4 My father seated himself, while the woman related as follows : 4 4 Mine, Doctor, has been a-strange fate; and short though my life has beeu, it has bon an eventful one. 1 have no ! remembrance of my parents, for in my ,childhood I had no settled home, but led a wandering life with a gipsy baud, who : ever treated me with great kindness ; yet ; I always fancied 1 did not belong to them; ■ but at that time the thought troubled me little, for 1 was too full of gaiety to think long on anything serious.. From a wild, frolicsome child, 1 grew up to be a tall girl of sixteen, beloved by the band of dark gypsies, and was treated as a queen among them. My slightest word was law, and it was strange to see the tenderness and respect which they tendered to me. 4 4 But they had beeu branded as out laws, and the government had set, a large price upon their heads. One day we had taken refuge in a cavern, after being hunted as wild beasts, when we were suddenly surprised and captured by a large body of constabulary. 44 Wc were put in prison, and after a short trial the band were condemned to death ; but my youth gained me frieuds, aud the venerable Judge, who had taken a great interest in me, having no children, adopted me as his own. “ 1 wept bitterly at the terrible fate of ■ my old companions, whom I sincerely loved, and as I was bidding them a last ; adieu, the chief, who was a stern, mysteri ! OU3 man, called me to him, handed me a | small box, bade me on my honor never to j open r 'it until my twenty-first birthday, j Solemnly vowing to do his bidding, 1 bade them a last farewell. 44 My home with the Judge and his beautiful wife was all that I could desire; they loved me tenderly, and did all in their power to make me happy. I had the best masters, and every attention was paid to my education. 4 4 At eighteen 1 entered society as the adopted daughter of Judge Dudley ; was well received, and reigned a belle during the whole season. My adopted father, who was very proud of me, intended that I should make a great match, but when I told him that I had bestowed my afiections on my William, his rage knew no bounds. He declared that no beggar should win me, and bade me henceforth consider his friend, the Hon. Jasper Singleton, as my future husband. ‘ ‘ I replied that I would gever wed any person but William, and that it would be useless to urge me in the matter. 1 was indignant at his applying such an epithet to William, who was a man of rare talents and a young lawyer struggling to ' attain an honorable position in the world. ‘ ‘ Hoarse with anger, he bade me be gone. ‘ Too long,’ said he, £ have I har bored you, ungrateful girl, in my home, never thinking that like a viper you would sting me when I least expected it Be gone !’ he cried, as he almost hurled me from his house. ‘ ‘ Loving my adopted father, I sought to be reconciled to him, but ho was deaf to my entreaties unless 1 would give up William. ‘ ‘ That week William and I were mar ried, and humble though our home was, happiness ever hovered around us, until one unfortunate day my husband was rid ing in haste to a neighboring town, when he was thrown from his horse and severely hurt. For weeks his life was despaired of. Night and day I watched by the bedside of my only earthly hope, and the Almighty at least rewarded my efforts and spared my husband’s life. During the excitement I had forgotten that we wore almost pen niless, and soon the reality stared us in the face. We were forced to leave our pretty cottage, and William, whose weak ness prevented his working, with unuttera ble agony watched me as I endeavored to earn a small pittance to sustain life. But my constitution was not strong, and 1 was soon attacked by a dangerous illness which is wasting my life away. I have but a short time to live, Doctor, and as this is the an niversary of my twenty-first birthday, I would, before I die, have the mystery which hangs over my life unraveled. Doc tor, please hand me that box lying on the mantel. Poor William,’ she said, stooping over and kissing her husband’s pale brow, ‘ be comforted.’ ‘‘ My Mary,’ he murmured, ‘ I will never know comfort again.’ ‘ My father, as desired, opened the box, and took out a bundle of papers, and was about handing them to the man, when the woman said, ‘ William is too agitated, Doctor ; will you be kind enough to read them aloud yourself?’ f 1 A slip of paper fell from his hand, and on picking it up, my father read : f ‘ ‘ This is to certify that the child Mary, who has lived with our band for ysvirs, is the daughter of Dr. Austin, of B , stolen by me to avenge my wrongs in win ning from mo the only being I ever loved. 4 am dying, and I seek to repair the only injury done to one I once loved.’ ‘‘Emanuel Vallerino, my child, my child !’cried my father, bending over his new-found daughter. ‘ My darling Mary, for whom I have mourned for long, long years ; is it thus I behold you ; my God, spare, oh, spare my child,’ he said with frantic emotion, kissing her. ‘‘Father, father?’ was all she could murmur, as she sank back exhausted upon her pillow. ‘ ‘ William, 1 am thy father, too ; love me as a son. Our loved one may yet live; but if it is God’s will to take her, we will never be separated.’ ‘ Unable to speak, the husband clasped warmly my father’s hand. ‘ We wondered father 'did not return that night, and were not a little astonish ed to see him driving madly up to the “ THAT COUNTRY IB THE MOST PROSPEROUS WHERE LABOR COMMANDS THE GREATEST REWARD.”- LANCASTER CITY, PA., TUESDAY MORNING, AUGUST 16, 1859. house next morning, and, in excited tones, ordering the servants to place a bed in the easy old family carriage, and directing my mother to prepare to receive a sick person. Without waiting to give any explanation, he hurried back to the sick, and in about an hour he and William tenderly carried in the sick woman and laid her in the soft, comfortable bed which my mother had prepared. ‘ Calling her into the library, he told who the stranger was. The shook was too great for my mother, and she swooned upon the floor. Upon recovering, she gazed wildly about, murmuring, ‘ My Mary, my little one, have they brought you back ?’ 1 Oh, how affecting was the meeting be tween my mother and her long lost daugh ter ; and when I kissed my sister’s hand, I felt that I would willingly give my life to save hers. ‘ ‘ Mother,’ she asked one day, 1 do tell me who was Emanuel Vallerino.’ ‘ ‘ My child,’ said mother with a sigh, ‘he was my adopted brother, and only in that light did 1 ever regard him; but he, unknown to me, loved me with all the fer vor of his passionate nature. He declared his affection for me hut I told him I was the affianced of your father. He then vowed before heaven, if ever I became the wife of Hubert Austin, he would be avenged. I heeded uot his threat, and soon after was married. A few years after you were born you were stolen from us.— In vain we searched in every direction, but could find uo clue to our lost darling —aDd long, long, my Mary, we have mourned you as dead.’ X- 1 Toe night wiud wailed sadly around our home as the shadow of death deepeued upon the brow of sister Mary. 4 4 Father—William—Mother—all come near me,’ she murmured faintly. 4 I would ee you all before 1 depart. Good-by,’ she exclaimed, kissing us affectionately.— 4 Oh, do not weep for me ; I am leaving you but for a time ; and oh, what a happy reuuiou ours will be when we meet in yon bright spirit land. But hush, they are coining. I see their arms outstretched to greet me. 1 hear the. music of the heav euly Jerusalem. Farewell earth—fare wrll, all that is dear ,lo me,farewell. Al mighty God, unto thee 1 commend my spirit. Jesus, receive my soul.’ And with one faint gasp, the soul of my beloved sister was waited to the realms of bliss. * It would be needless for me to picture our grief at her loss. It was heartfelt— earnest; aud poor William at this moment needed all our tenderest sympathies. ‘Girls,’ said Aunt Ella, as she saw the tearful eyes of her attentive auditors, 4 this night is the anniversary of that death-bed scene. Do you wonder, theu, that I am sad V 4 Oh no, darling Aunt Ella,’ they all exclaimed, 4 it was a scene too touching ever to be forgotten : but tell us, auntie, is dear, good Uncle Willliam, who is al ways so kind, yet sorrowful, the William of whom you speak V ( Yes, girls : he has never forgotten his idolized wife ; and I often thought when you were teasing him about getting mar ried, what deep wounds you must have in flicted on his breaking heart.’ 4 Had we known we were inflicting pain,’ said the girls, sobbipg, 4 we would not for a moment think of tormenting him ; but the future will show how sorry we are for the past.’ From that day many a blessing did Wil liam Warrington bestow upon the fair young girls who sought to soothe his melancholy, and by a thousand acts of kindness to ren der him happy ; and they who loved him as a brother, found in him that friend which the young need, a sincere and truth ful counselor in every act of their lives. Passinu Away. —The evening breeze is passing away and wafting away on its airy wing fragments of our most precious time. The flowers that spring around our pathway, though they have just verged from the gloomy shades of winter, must soon decay, and the lofty trees that have scarce thrown around them their cloaks, to shelter us from the summer’s heat, are passing swiftly away. The storm which overeaast the evening sky, with the rolling thunder and fiery lightning flash, its pouring rain, its howl ing winds, has passed away, and left all nature calm as the summer’s breath. The bright bow, the token of God’s covenant to man, that was bended in the cloud. Ah I it too, has passed away. “Awhile, and it sweetly bent over the gloom, Like love o’er a death-couch, or hope o’er the tomb, Like a visit—the converse of friends —or a day, That bow from my sight, passed for ever away.” The sun is passing away, but it is only that it may shine with renewed splendor when the morning dawns. Childhood, the morning of life, full of innocent joy, has already passed away. Gay, happy youth is rapidly passing away, and ere we are aware, old age will have overtaken us ; for man, the noblest work of God, though he alone is endowed with reason to com prehend, a soul to feel his majesty and grace, passeth ‘ as a flower of the field.’ All human glory passes away ; though man rear up mountains of marble, they, too, will pass away, leaving no trace of him. Earth and its glory, even time itself, is passing away. When all are gone, “ Friends, friends, Uh! shall wo meet Where the spoiler finds no prey ! Where lovely things and sweet, Pass not away, Uh ! if this may be * * * Speed, speed their rising day, How blest from earth’s dim show, To pass away.” Is Your Name Brown. Captain W tells an oeourrenee witnessed by him last week on board the Ocean, on her passage down. An oldish aud some what purblind gentleman pacing up and down the upper saloon, stopped in front of a large full length mirror ; and after gazing at the figure presented for a mo ment or two, inquired in a very deliberate tone — ‘ Is—your—name—Brown ?’ No answer. Question repeated louder— ‘ Is— your — name—Brown V Question again repeated louder still— ‘ IS—YOUR—NAME—BROWN ?’ Still no answer. ‘ Well,’ said the questioner, ‘ you are either no gentleman, or very deaf!’ Tho saloon was in a roar. When you see a gentleman at mid night sitting on the step in front of his house, combing his head with the door soraper, you may judge he has been out to an evening party. THE PRESSMAN. Pull up, my boys, turn quick the rjunce, And let the work begin; The world is pressing on without, And we must press within — And we who guide the public mind, Have influence far and wide, And all our deeds are good, although The devil is at our side. Let fly the frisket, now my boys ! "Who are more proud than we, While wait the anxious crowd without The inward power to see ? So pull away—none are so great, As they who run the ear; And who have dignity like those Who practise at the bar ? And you who twirl the rollers there, Be quick, thou inky man; Old Time i 3 rolling on himself, So beat him if you can. Be careful of the light and shade, Nor let the sheet grow pale, 4 Be careful of the monkty looks Of every head and talc. Though high in office is our stand, Andpi-ous is our case, We would not cast a slur on those Who fill a lower place. The gaping world is fed by us, Who retail knowledge here; By feeding them we feed ourselves, Nor deem our fare too doar. Pull up, my boys, turn quick the rounce, And thus the chase weol join ; We have deposits in tho banfc — Our drawers are full of quoin ; And who should more genteely cut A figure or a dash ? Alas ! that we who press so much. Should e’er be pressed for cash ! A SHORT PATENT SERMON. BY DOW, JR, My text is contained in these words, which most of you have probably seen somewhere, or somewhere else : “Pray, tell me how the devil was dressed. “ Oh! he was in his Sunday’s be3t; His coat was black, and his trouser’s blue, With a hole behind where his tail came thro.” My Hearers : The origin of this notorious scamp —tho devil—is wrapped up in a great many thicknesses of ob scurity. As to his paternity, it is gener ally supposed that he never had a father nor a mother, but is entirely self-made ; for which wonderful piece of workmanship he, no doubt, takes a vast deal of credit to himself. The first we hear of his super royal highness, he was “sloshing about” in heaven, at a terrible rate, and frighten ing the infant Cherubim into fits. He pre tended to be dissatisfied with the general movement up there, but the throne was his sole object; aud, I may say, he fought like the devil to reach it. He thought if he could only be king of that extensive dominion for a few millions of years, mat ters would be so put to rights that they would take care of themselves for the balance of eternity. So, he fought like a threshing-machine for the crown of glory ; but, my brethren, he hadn’t ammunition enough—his rations were short —his cause wasn’t just—and the hosts of the Lord too many for him. He was cornered at last, aud pitched over the balcony ; and down, ] down he came, ker -chunk, somewhere in the centre of the great Dismal Swamp. By I that disastrous fall, my brethreu, he so iu jured his left foot, that it withered aud turned into a hoof, which he exhibits even to this day, except, when artfully concealed by a'nicely-polished ealf-skin boot. The first of this rascal’s capers upon earth, my friends, was that of transform ing himself into a beautiful garter snake, and so charming good mother Eve that she one day committed a slight misde meanor, and forfeited her ‘ third ’ of Para dise —and away went poor Adam’s share, in the bargain. And I verily believe, that the same old reptile holds a fascinat ing power over the fair sex at the present time. His fallen Greatness, my brethren, then put on a suitable rig of asbestos, and turned fireman—not one of the b’hoys, that run with the big squirting machine, but such a fireman as is employed upon a steamboat, to heave in the wood and keep the blazes up. His great pyroteohnie establishment is in some locality best known to himself; but with which, I trust, you will become fully acquainted at some future period. My brethren, when the devil comes to town, now-a-days, he doffs his old fire toggery, and dresses either in the flash style or assumes a more gentlemanly garb —seldom, indeed, coming in coarse home spun, or with a seedy coat, stogy boots and a sooty shirt. Sometimes he may be seen strutting along quite fancifully attired— with coat of claret, vest of buff, pants of sky-blue, and hat aud boots of ivory pol ish ; with three diamond studs and a nug get in his bosom—and a gold watch-ehain, large and strong enough to tether a mad elephant; but, with all these, there is al ways a hole behind where the tail comes through. Sometimes, too, he appears in a more respectable guise of plain black, with moderately short, business-like hair, and well-trimmed whiskers. In such raiment he might readily be mistaken for an una dulterated gentleman—an influential and prominent citizen—were it not that there is a hole behind, and the tail will work itself through. And, brethren, I have even known the old scoundrel to don the pontifical robe, get into the pulpit and preach ‘ Christ, and him crucified,’ at a salary per annum that would crowd all the piety out of your poor pastor in less than a fortnight from the date of the first pay ment. I couldn’t possibly have the hand ling of so much money and hold on to my religion. Yes, brethren, I’ve seen the devil, in clerical duds, holding forth to an admiring congregation in most eloquent style, festooning the garden of heaven swith the rarest of exotics, and describing hell as a hundred times hotter than he himself could ever make it with a cargo of rosin, pitch and camphene. His nether ornament was not visible while madly uttering the ‘ words of truth and sober ness ’ —yet there was a hole behind for the tail to come through ; and the tip end of it might he seen peeping from beneath his ecclesiastical cloak as he walked in the highways, as proud as a peacock and stiff as a roll of sole-leather. I have also shen his devilship at the bar, upon the bench, in State Legislatures and in our National Congress. At all these places he has ever worn the dress of a gentleman, but always slipped up on the behavior, and exposed the hole behind where the tail came through. ’ And now, my unsuspecting young sisters : beware of a gay charmer, who pays a thousand compliments and has as many more ready for another—who talks of love and totes you about, but never thinks of matrimony—whose kiss is blight to the bloom of innocence—who plucks the flower and leaves the tree to wither. I say, beware of him, for he is the very ■ devil himself—tail or no tail. So mote it be! ’ —BUCHANAN. Essays.from the Desk of Poor Robert the Scribe. “ HONESTY IS THE BEST OF POLICY.” Be hcmest, and 'tis clear as light You’ll make by far most money by’t The profits that are got by cheating, Are very few and very fleeting. Experience proves the adage true; Then never loose it from your view. When I was a little fellow, just old enough to be mischievous, I was beset by a parcel of my companions, to go and pil fer the parson’s pears. Down by the side of the brook that flows into Applebury pond, back of the parson’s house, was a beautiful meadow, in the midst of whioh stood the pear tree. It was large—hung full, and they were of a most delicious flavor. Whether I was afraid of a flogging— whether respeot for the parson (for in those days children were brought up to respect the pious) prevented me ; or whether I was deterred by the recollection of my bad luck in pilfering melons—l can’t now re member; but I told them decidedly I would have Dothing to do in the matter, and did all in my power to dissuade them from the enterprise. I don’t know how, but it so happened, that my honesty came to the parson’s ears, and one Saturday afternoon I received an invitation to go see him. Away I went, conscious that I had done no wrong ; —how light beats the heart of innoeenoe. The good man met me at the door :—‘Robert,’ said he, taking my hand, ‘ I have heard that you refused to join in pilfering my pears. Now I mean to convince you that ‘ Honesty i 9 the best of policy.’ ‘ Here,’ added he, placing a large basket of the finest fruit before me, ‘ eat what you please, and take as many as you can carry.” I felt at that moment happier than Napoleon with empires at his feet. And the eiroumstanees led me to remark, early in life, the oonsequenco of an adher ence to the maxim. There was, at Applebury, a merchant well esteemed for his probity :— ‘ Where do you trade, neighbor ?’—said one farmer to another. ‘ Why, at Mr. Upright’s,’ replied the first. ‘ His weights and measures always hold out. I had as lief send a child as a grown person to his store, for the matter of his being treated well. I don’t pretend to know the value of some sorts of goods, myself, but he has but one price, and never takes advantage of any one’s ignorance.’ I marked the conse quence. Upright grew rich and respected ; and fully experienced the truth of the maxim, that— Honesty is the best of Policy. There, too, was lawyer Aimwell :—He never flattered you about your cause for the sake of money, but would tell you plainly his opinion, even though he lost a fee by it. Nor would he ever advocate a suit that he knew to be unjust. His established character drew business from every quarter, and he realized, in a fortune of five thousand pounds, and the esteem of his fellow men, tho correctness of tho maxim that— Honesty is the best of Policy. But there was rich George Ardenburg, who had a large farm given him by his father. One of the merchants had adver tised for tallow to send off to New York. Rich George had killed a number of fat cattle, and as the tallow was to be sent away immediately, he thought it a good time to- dispose of it. It was weighed.— Everybody thought it was astonishingly heavy. Dick Artly, who attended the store, being somewhat suspicious, and a little roguish withal, in removing one of the cakes, as though by accident, let it fall plump on the floor. It split open and lo ! in the middle was a large stone ! Poor George looked like a sheep-stealer. He was hooted 1 out of town. His match was broken off with the amiable Miss Arabella Bromley ; he was turned out of the militia office he held, and finally was compelled to sell his farm and move off to Canada. Tho blacksmith, the tailor; The printer, the nailor ; The hatter, tho joiner ; The potter, the miner; Tho farmer, tho physician ; Merohant, politician; The saddler, the sawyer; The priest, and the lawyer ; The painter, the glazier; The mason, and grazier, Will find that my maxim, so trite and so old, To those who adopt it, brings honor and gold. Gossip about Tom Moore. Moore had higher affection for his own family than, in his most tuft-hunting fancy, he ever cherished for princes, peers, and high-born ladies. He was as good a son, brother and father as ever breathed. While his mother lived, and she was fifty three when she died, Moore wrote to her twice a week, no matter what were the other claims upon his time. He was not ashamed among his aristocratic friends of his lowly origin. There is an anecdote, related by Lord John Russell, that when Moore first sat at table at Carlton House, the guest of the Prince of Wales, charm ing all by his companionable society, his Royal Highness remarked, ‘ I suppose, Mr. Moore, you are of the same family as the Marquis of Bogheda ?’ The poet’s answer was : ‘ No ! my father sells wine, spirits and groceries, in a little shop at the corner of Aungier street, Dublin.’— The Prince immediately looked round the table, saw some of the guests smiling at the brusque veracity of the little Irishman, and called out in his most impressive manner, ‘ Lot us drink a bumper to the health of Mr. Moore’s father ; lam sure he must be a very excellent gentleman.’ It may be that a scene not much unlike this occurred also at the Prince’s table, in which Curran distinguished himself, as Moore did, by his candor. A discus sion had arisen as to the comparative status of each profession, and Curran happily concluded it by giving the prefer ence to the law, ‘ which,’ he added, ‘ has enabled the son of an Irish peasant to sit at the table of his prince.’ Nor, in considering Moore’s character, should it be forgotten that as a husband his oonduet was not only unexceptionable, but always affectionate, considerate, reliant and kind-hearted. It is not worth while to trace back the eiroumstanees of the courtship, but the marriage was one of passionate love, upon both sides. Neither seems to have given the other any cause to regret the formation of the life-ties whioh bound them. Mrs. Moore (whose death occurred only a few weeks ago) was a beautiful and charming woman, who went very little into society, but ooncili nated the good will and kind regard of all who knew her. The only cause for com plaint she could have felt, was Moore’s too frequently leaving her, while he fluttered about in the gay and fashionable oirelea in which be ko much delighted. Nor, indeed, j should all the blame of this be east upon , Moore himself. His celebrity as a writer, j his flashing wit and thorough geniality in j society, and, above all, the singular fasci ation of his singing, contributed to make him not only acceptable, but a most desirable guest in the highest and most fashionable circles of London. Living, as he did, in the country, yet within twenty minutes walk of Bowood, the Marquis of Lansdowne’s splendid and hospitable country seat, Moore was as much involved in high life as he would have been in London. For the Marquis of Lansdowne is a nobleman of immense wealth, and so much political power as to • make him a partisan, who, though he oared . not for place, used to gather around him in the country, the elite of all that was exalted, talented, and fashionable among his own class, and on his side of polities, and also the whig opposition. Among these Moore became completely at home, i while his dearest Bessy would remain in ! their pretty cottage at Sipperton, contented among her children, and practising the most rigid economy to make both ends j meet. By the way, as we have mentioned . Mrs. Moore, let us give an epigram upon her, written in 1814. Moore’s first two children were females, Anastasia and Barbara. Announcing the birth of the third, in a letter to Power, his musical publisher, August, 1814, Moore wrote, ‘ l think you will not grudge ten pence (postage ?) for the intelligence of Bessy’s safety ; it would be worth twenty pence if I had a boy to announce to you, but unluckily it is another girl.’ At the time of this occurrence, at Maryland Cottage, Derbyshire, Mr. Joseph Atkinson, one of Moore’s oldest, and truest friends, was in the neighborhood, at Mattock, and he wrote the following, which was not given by Lord John Russell, nor, indeed, do we recollect to have ever seen it in print : “ I’in sorry, dear Moore,’there’s a damp to your joy, Nor think my old strain of my theology stupid, When I say that your wife had a right to a boy, For Venus is nothing without a young Cupid. But since Fate, the boon that you wished for, refuses, And granted three girls to your happy embraces He meant when you wandered abroad with the Musos, That your wife should be ciroled at home with the Graces 1 ’ A Grave Joke. —There have been many stories told of Col. Kthan Allen, of revolutionary memory. The following, though old, is not a bad one : lie was one evening at a party where his well-know courage was the theme ol conversation. 4 He fears nothing, 1 said uue. 4 And L would wager any amount that, he would not hesitate to go into the church-yard i across the way, and bring a skull from one of the open tombs there/ added another. The wager was agreed upon, and one ot the party suddenly left the apartment as Allen entered it. The absent bon-vivant procured a sheet, whitened his face, and repaired to one of the vaults in question, with a view of frightening the old veteran, should he have the temerity to further the wishes of the company. Allen was made acquainted with the uature of the wager, and, without a moment’s hesiiatiou, said he would bring the required skull and lay it on the table; He went to the vault and laid his hand on one, when his concealed acquaintance cried out in a sepulchral tone, 4 That's mine /’ 4 Very well/ replied Allen, and he picked up another. That’s mine too !’ repeated the same voice. ‘That can’t be true/ returned the imperturablc hero, 4 for no man can have two skulls.’ Upon this he quickly left the vault, with the memento mori in his hand ; his friend following in hot haste, half frightened out of. his senses. Allen, however, reached the soonest, where he had left his companions, and placing the skull upon the table, ex claimed, 4 There, gentlemen, there you have it ; but look at it quickly, for the fellow is close behind that owns it.’ The man in the sheet immediately came in, and the laugh was universal- against him. GARBS. 1 \U. JOHN AI’CALLA, DENTIST —Office 1 / No. 4 K:i>t Kin- stm-L Kesidetio- Walnut stn-nt. stv.ind door West uf Duke. Lancaster, Ku. [ujirlS tt’ld l LDUS .1. NEFF, Attorney at Law i V Office with H. A. Shadier. E« j.. south-west coruer of CVutre S<;a:in\ l.;im-:ister. may 15. ’55 ly 17 JESSE LANDIS. Attorney at Law.—Of fice one door east of Lochlcr's Hotel, K.tst street, Lancaster, l*a. 'ft’JY, All kinds of Scriv.ininj—such as writing Wills. Deeds, Accounts. Ac., will be attended to with .•nrreotness and despatch. may 15. ’sstf-I? Abram siiank, A T TORN K Y A T I. A W . Officii with D. 0. Kshlfman. Esq . No. :ni North Dulf. St. LAXCA S 7 K R , P A IIIDWARD M’GOVERN, li ATTO K N K Y A T L A \V , No. 3 South Queen street, in Reed. >1 »•<«rnnu. Kelly A Co.’s Dunking Ruilding, Lancaster, Pa. apr 6 tf I*2 VfEWTON LIGHTNEII, ATTORXEV AT LAW, has his Office in North Duke street, nearly opposite the Court llou6e. Lancaster, apr 1 tfll Removal william b. ford ate y, Attorney at Law, has removed his office from North Queen street to the building in the south east corner of Centre Square, formerly knowu as IlubleyV Hotel. Lancaster, april 10 Removal.— dr. j. t. barer, Horn (EPATHIC PHYSICIAN, has removed his office to No. 09 East King street, next door above King’s Grocery. Reference —Professor W. A. Gardner, Philadelphia. Calls fiom the-country will bo promptly attended to. apr G tfl2 WT. McPHAIL, . ATTORNEY AT LAW, No. 11 N. Dike st., Lancaster, Pa. marCl ly 11 REMOVAL— H. B. SWARR, Attorney at Law. Inw removed tm office to No. I'* Nurlh Duke street, m-arly opposite his former location. and a lew doom north of the Court House. upr 0 3m 12 HAMUEL H. REYNOLDS, Attorney at Law. Offli*. No. 14 North Duko ntroet. opposite the Court House lJ I fll O N P. E B Y , kl ATTORNEY AT LAW, OFFICE: —.Vo :W North Dukr str.'rt, Uiny 11 ly IT] LANi'AnTfcK. I’ENNA. FREDERICK S. PYPER, x ATT •> It N E Y AT L A W . OFFICE—No. 11 North Duke street, fWt.vr side,) Lan caster, l»a. npr*2otfl4 Removal.— william s. amweg, Attorney at Law, has removed his <>tll<-« from his former place Idlo South Duke street, nearly opposite the Trinity Lutherau Church. apr 8 tf 12 JOHN F. BRINTON, ATTORNEY AT LAW, PHILADELPHIA. Pa., Has removed his office to liia residence, No. *249 South Cth Street, above Spruce. Refers by permission to lion. 11. G. Lonq, “ A. L. Hates, “ Ferrre Brinton, n0V241y*45 “ Thaddeos Stevens. JAMES BLACK, Attorney at Law.—Of fice in East King street, two doors east ofLechler’s Hotel, Lancaster, Pa. jj&~ All business connected with his profession, and all kinds of writing, such as preparing Deeds, Mortgages, Wills, Stating Accounts, Ac., promptly attended to. may 15. PETER D. MYERS, REAL ESTATE AGENT, PHILADELPHIA, will atceud to tho Renting of Houses, Collecting'House and Ground Rents, 4c. Agencies entrusted to his care will be thankfully received, and carefully attended to.— Satisfactory reference given. Office N. E. corner of SEVENTH and SANBOM streets, Second Floor, No. 10. fob 17 6 oCRIVENING A CONVEYANCING, k O The undersigned respectfully announces to the public that he has taken the office lately, occupied by John A. Hieetand, Esq , where be will be pleased to transact all business connected with the profession that nay be placed in his hands. 4fei7“Oflice No. *lO North Duke street, Lancaster, Pa. feb 15 ly 5 REMOVAL W e nave tula day re to our new Banking Uouse, iu VIA ST KING St., where the Banking Business in nil its varied branches will re ceive oar best attention. Interest on deposits will be allowed as heretofore. Drafts on New York, Philadelphia and Baltimore con stantly for sale. Stock, Bonds, and other securities bought and sold In Philadelphia and Now York— and Information given as to tbeir relative value and prospects. Uncurrent Bank Notes bought and sold, and premium allowed on - Id American coin. Persons entrusting auy business to us, whethor money - u deposit, or t'"r purchase or sale of Bonds or Stocks, may depend upon prompt and faithful performance of all eon-~ tracts. The members id the tirm are Individually liable for all its obligations. JOHN GYGER, 4 00 c- Hour i'liksh"\. Cashier , mar 2 tf7 \jATIONAL POLICE GAZETTE—TIaIa J,i Great Journal of Crime and Criminals is In Its Thir teenth year, and Is widely circulated throughout the coun try. It is the first paper of the kind published In the United States, and is distinctive in its character. It has lately passed into the hands of Geo. W. Matsell 4 Co., by whom it will hereafter be conducted. Mr. Matsell was formerly Chief of Police of New York City, and he will no doubt render it one of the most Interesting papers iu tUe country It* editorials ’ forcibly written, and of a char acter that should comma • tor the paper Qnivereal sop- port. t£zr~ Subscriptions, per nuiuim ;$1 for Six Months, to be remitted by Subscribers, (who should write their names aud i he (own. .oimtv ami stale where they reside plainly,) to UKO. IV. MATSKLL & CO., Kditors and Proprietors of the National Police Gazette, New York City. LK-f2T U 41 \TEW SPRING BONNETS. \\ The subscriber calls yniir attention to the new and well selected stock of SPRING BONNETS and all kinds of MILLINERY GOuDS, 1 LIUUT and DARK STRAW BUN NETS. FLATS. HATS and SHAKERS, Frames to tit everybodv, RIBBONS tjrB in great quantities. Tap Rushes, French and Jgjfr American FLOWERS, STRAW LACE and GIMP, oU Black and White Silk Lace and Edging. Jean Blond. Tartle iou Cap Net, Crownliiiing Wire, Shinille, Hair Dresses, Ready-made and Trimmed Routiet* of all Kinds, Dry Goods, Carpets, N-.tic.hH, 11-.isery. Dress Trimmings and a great many articles too utituetmis to mention, which he will sell at tile lowest market prices, either in wholesale or relall.— He delies competition in quality or price. Call and see for yourselves before purchasing elsewhere. L. BAUM, No. 31 North Queen M met,one dour north ot theNatlon al House. mar 22 tf 10 O END 4 STAMPS FOR A SPECIMEN OP o • • .V EWS F U 0 M HUME.” A complete summary of the latest lutelligonco received from England, Ireland. S-otlaud, Wales and tbo British Possessions i i every part ->l the World, and devoted to Politics. Literature. Science. Art, History, Ac., Ac. ENGLISHMEN. IRISILM EN WELSHMEN, support vour own tiuuily paper, and welcome the NEWS FROM HOME, which Is ponlishod every THURSDAY and forwarded postage free t. . Two DolUti for one year. One Dollar for six mouths. Fiftv rent- lor lluee mouths. l\u-li«-s uettiu£ iip Hub* ar» allowed 'JS percent, for their t rouble. iV'-InniHtei* :iinl i>"itablished Mown Dealers are authorized to art an AgeiitM TOW NDRON <St DAY, Kilit*>rs ami Proprietors, Now York 1? 11 Howard association, rHILAua: l r u i a . A Benevolent Institution established by apodal Endow ment, tor tile relief of the .Sick and Distressed, afflicted with Virulent and Epidemic. Diseases. THE HOWARD ASSOCI ATION, in view of the awful i m-ti'in of l,nni-.ii lir.- . ;uii-ed h\ Sexual diseases, anu U),. ileeejiljon>. prueibvd upon the unfortunate victims of ..in li disease* h\ t£u i<-k> oral years ufr> directed their t’oiiMiltinc Surge >n. as u ( 11 AKITAHI.K ACT'wnrtbv of their names. lo open a Di-p -usury for the treatment of this class of dbeases, in. all Ili n ibrms. and to give MEDICAL ADVICE UIiATtS to nil *• 1. ■ ripply by letter, withttdescrip tion of their condition, i.-.ge. occupation. habits of life, Ac.) and in ca*e -,f ,-xtn-mc |..,vt v. t-> FURNISH MEDICINES Kit EE OF ell \KU K It i.- needless to add that the Associ ation c- li.mamls the high-st Medinl skill of the age, uud will fiirni'ti lbs most approved modern treatment. Til,, i )j, 11 a - ; Im- A asocial i«m. m tli.-ir Annual Report upon •),- Tr• uTim-i.t --1 Sexual Diseases, express the highest satist.o'ti.-n with tlir nucresa which I) -s attended the labors o? their Surgeons in the cure >-f '■p. nnatorrboca, Somioal Weakness, tinnon-Inc-a, tile.-t. S> ph.lis, tile vice of Ouanism or S-l f Ahune, Diseases of the Kidneys uud Bladder, Ac., aud older a o nlinitanee nt the same plau for the ensuing year. The Director*, ntj a review of tin- past, feel assured that their latioi s in this sphere of hem-*■ ..h*ut elfurta have been of great lieuelit. lo tin; nlfiicl. d, especially to the young, aud they have resolved to devote themselves, with rooewed Zeal. to thi* very important uud much despised cause. An admirable Itepori on Sponnatorrhuia. or Seminal Weakness, the vice of Oirinlstn, Mastnibatiou, or Self- Abuse. and other diseases of the Sexual organs, by the Con sulting Surgeon, will he s--nt by mail (in a sealed envelope) FREE i'F CH ARO E, on receipt of TWO STAMPS for post age,. Other Report* ami Tracts nu the uature and treat ment of Sexual diseases, diet, Ac., are constantly being published fir gratuitous distribution, and will be sent to the .HlUiele 1. Some of tile new remedies and methods of treatment discovered during the last year, are of great value. Address. for Kepir! or treatment, Dll. J. SKILLIN UOUHiITON, Acting Surgeon, Howard Association, No. 2 South .Ninth Street, Philadelphia, Pa. By order of the Directors. EZRA D lIEARTWELL, Pretident. Eo. FAiKam.li. Sccratanj. Jan 18 ly 1 'MO IIOIISEKEKPKItS. S 0 M E THING N E W '. R. T BABBITT'S BEST MEDICINAL 3ALERATU3 > U manufactured from common salt, and is! tr'. prepured entirely different from other Sale-j 68 'ratuß. All the delctei iou« matter extracted In AND such a manner as l> produce Bread, Biscuit,;AND and all kinds of Cake, without containing ft 7u particle of Sdlemtus when the Bread or Cake; 70 ih baked; thereby projucingwholesome results. Every particle of Fa feint us is turned togas aud passes through the Brood or Biscuit while bak r'».S ing, c‘niMC'iueiitly m.thing remains but com-) 68 mon Suit, Water find Flour. You will readily! A NDjperccivn by the taste of this Saleratus that it !is entirely different from other Saluratus. ! 7u It i» packed in one pound papers, each wrap-, per branded, “ D T. Babbitt’s Best Medicinal! Snlorntus;" also, picture, twisted loaf of bread,! .with a glass of effervescing water on the top. r H Wheu you purchase one paper you Bbould pre-! serve the wrapper, and he particular to get the AND next exactly like thu first—h and as above. I Full directions for miking Bread with this 1 7o saleratus and Sour Milk or Cream Tartar, will) 'arcotupauy each package; also, directions for 'making all kinds of I’as'ry; also, for making) Soda Water and Soidiilz Powders. j 63 MARK YOUR OWN SOAP, WITH 1 j If . T . i: A It B I TT' S i AND PURE CONCENTRATED POTASH,) (warranted double the strength of ordinary] TO (Potash : put up in cans—l lb., - lbs., 3 lbs., [0 lbs. and Id lbs.—with full directions for mak* ling Ilard and Soft Consumers will find 6b {this the cheapest ln market. Manufactured and lor sale by H. T. BABBITT, Non ba and 7U Washington st., N. York, and Xu. da India street, Boston. ly* 24 _ 70 1 - I juno-23 A MERIC AN LIKE INSURANCE AND rV THUS T COMPANY. CAPITAL STOCK , $500,000. Company's UulMlur. Walnutstioet, 5. E. corner of Fourth, !* 11l L A I> K IJ’ II I A . LIFE INSURANCE AT THE USUAL MUTUAL RATES, or at Joint St.«ck Rates, at about *JU per cent, less, or at Total Abstinence Rates, the lowest in the world. A. WHILLDIN, President. J. C. Sims, Secretary. 11. S. UARA, Escp, Ea.st Kin s ' street, for Lancas ter county. _ _ [mar 22 ly 10 Q E NT L E 31 E N , KEEP COOL It U Y Y U U it S T R AW lIATS SHULTZ A BROTHER A LAfUi £ ASSORTMENT NOW IN STOKE, SUITABLE FOB USE AND CHILDREN ju)<; North Qukuu, and next door to Laue'fl Store, East King Street, LANCASTER, FA. .MEN’S rp H E ti E K K ij E E FARMER, X The cheapest monthly Agricultural and Hortlcultu ral paper published In this country. SUBSCRU’TIONS received at Publisher’s rates in clubs or single copies. Single copy, one year, 50 cants; At® copies, $2,00, Ac. Wo alao receive subscriptions to tbo Americau Agriculturist $1 single copy, $8 ten copies. The Country Gentleman $2 single copy, $8 five copies. The Cultivator hoc single copy,s2 fire copies. The Horticulturist $2 single copy, $8 fly® copies The Gardener's Monthly $1 single copy. In addition we have constantly on hand a variety of valuable Agricultural Works, all of which we offer at rea sonable rates. Every person interested in soil culture should not be without oue of the above valuable practlcle Agricultural publications, aud for the sake of having them all read and have the advantage of them, we offer either at the publish er*’ rates. JOHN SHEAFFER, may 17 tf 18 Suvcessor to Mnrray, Young i Co. may 5 tf 1C IIIANOSI PIANOS! PIANOS! J gold MEDALS IN THREE SUCCESSIVE rEABS At the Maryland Institute, besides premiums at Fairs In Philadelphia, Washington and Richmond. TESTIMONIALS OF EXCELLING* FEOII TUALBERU, and Q. BATTER. As also from some of the most eminent Professors sod Amateurs in the country. WXL KNABE A CO., No. 1,3, 5 and 7, North Eutaw street, and No. 207 Baltlmorestreet, between Charles and Light streets, would respectfully In vite the attention of the public to their well assorted " tOCIS OK AND AND SQUARE PIANO-FORTES, which, for beauty of finish, power, and sweetness of tone and elasticity of touch, have been, by judges,pronounced unrivalled. Every I’iauo guarantied for five yewa,and a privilege of exchange granted at any within sir mouths, if not entirely satisfactory. _ Teems Liberal. A call Is respectfully solicited before purchasing elsewhere. A liberal discount made to the Clergy and to Schools. A large assortment of Melodeona constantly on haml. ' Pianos taken in exchange, hired, toned and repaired. JaSlStflJ WM. KNABHA 00. Sunday NOTlCE.—Persons wliWng Medicines on Sunday will please call between the hours of 1 and 54 P. at Dr. ffAYLAN’S Drugßtae, No. 60 North Queen street. aprTtfia - NO 31. C. E. lIAYES, City Regulator. .'■OUTCU.MEN. STRAKOSCU,
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