<H)e Lancaster Jtntclluu'uaT.
V*)L. LX.
THE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER
PUBLISHED EVERT TUESDAY, AT NO. 8 NOBTII DUKE STREET,
BY GEO. SANDERSON.
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“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,