VOL. LX. THE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER, PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY, AT 30. 8 NORTH DUKE STREET, BY GEO. SANDERSON, TEKMS 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. Advertiksments. —Advertisements, not exceeding oue sijuare, (12 lines,) will be inserted three timea for one dollar, and twenty-five cents for each additional ioaer • tlon. Those of greater length jo proportion. Jon Printing— Such as Hand Bills, Posters, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, Ac., Ac., executed with accuracy and on the shortest notice. SADNESS OF THE EVENING It AIN. BY HENRY HOHFOBD All day long against the casement Has the heavy south wind beat; All day long the pools have widened In the wet and dreary street; But the night has thickened o'or us, And I listen to its sound, As if something, long departed, With the night wus gathering round. Sadness stealeth o’er my spirit, Silent sadness, not of pain, Such as ocean’s murmur bringeth— Coming with the eveniug fain. I am lonely, very lonely, But I would be so an hour, And lot thoughts and feelings Bring thuir saddening, soothing power. I will stand amid the rain-drops, With the night wind round my head, And call up departed faces Of the absent and the dead. I will shut my oye3 and see them As they looked so long ago, I shall hear their pleasant voices In the rain-drops murmuring low. I will think of thee, my mother, in thy grave of man}’ years; I will think of thee, but never With the grief that, bringeth tears; lor thou hast not lived to sorrow O’er my ways, so weak and wild; Ihou hast never known the footsteps Ot thy poor and wayward child. Close beside thee in the church-yard Sleeps the fairest of our line ; Loved ami lost, my dove-eyed sister, Hall ot earth and half divine. years our darling lingered. When the mother’s voice had died, And she passed away in autumn, And we laid her by thy aide. O'er jmir heads the rain is falling, O'er your graves the wind is chill; But your memory has not loft us, And your presence lingers still: And we think of you when evening Has its robe of darkness on. When the rain is in the heavens, And the happy stars are gODO. I will think of pleasant faces lhat have shone across my way, Abut have laded in the spring-time And gone hack again to clay; Old time trieuds and loved companions, Buried in their early prime, All. whose death has cast a shndow O'er my spirit’s morning time. They are here, as once I knew them ; I will shut my eyes and dream 'J hat the touch of time and Sorrow Has not made us what we seem. They are gone, and 1 am lonely, Musing in the evening rain, Of all the by-gono times and seasons That will never come again. ALONE IN THE (JITY. Streets, streets —a nation, a city full, Terraces, palaces—Lord, how they grow 1 Wealth and prosperity, that's the true verity— Money’s the seEret scramble to know, Maudlin religion and overspun charity— Glorious show! Mon, men —a terriblo multitude ! Heedlessly, hastily, onward'they flow, Civilization remodels creation, Hardens the sot t heart and quickens the slow ; Each fur himself then and no man's relation — Wrestle and throw 1 See, soe, it is not all pleasure this— Haggard looks, pallid looks, nothing but care ; Stride plays a mighty part, eats out the human hoart: Men lift tho golden calf high in the air. Woo for tho weak ones; tho strong takos the fore most start— Anything’s fair. Down, down, down with tho wretched man — Leave him to penury and despair. What though disease and death trample his daily path 1 What though hunger before him should stare! Why should he think of tho pleasures his fellow hath— Why should ho care ’ Lone, lone, lonoly I wander here — Ono in a million, like ono ’mid the sea; No ona to wail with me, no one to sail with me Over tho billows that moan drowsilie; No ono to strive with me, no ono to fail with mo, Sad though 1 bo. Life, life ! —ls there to better life Under this surface of bustle and roar ? Hard is the dreary road, heavy the weary load — Would I wore dono with it, would it wore o’er. Courage, my heart, for the feet that have bravely trod Trod it before 1 .From the Washington “States