. . . r_ . - - • • • . ' • ... . . , .. - . An •,. ' , . ''' ' 7 : :; - , r- r ri. '7- . . ~ • . • . -'. • . ' • '.. '._ - r -.." _. • . . • .., . . . .. ' lr . .. . ',. _ • • ' • '•• • ' •', '' " ~,, "7:1. - ' -r.; . • - 1 -•• ,f• • • -;' • , ... s :-. E..i! . , y . .. r„ , ..3 ' „. - ',' ir . ... --•..; r , -7 -: - . 7 -l r- • 1..1. 1'..• ,-?..- '...." -VS: • t.".., . . . . .. . , .. • - , .1 .. , . . : .'' i i :,. - _ . .._;:. f' . - . .. ..:. , :: ; •: - .-14- : trzi - r'.. - ,...: - .: , - -.! rte ”' .1.12 l 3' T.. -' 7 r 7 • 11 1!.;:. 4 , • 77i ;•' ...'r; „ili -. " ' : 7• ,_f '. •---'''•-.•••'''.. • %'-' .-.••!•'•'. :r . .. ; .• - _ ~ _ : . ..... ,_ __ .... ..,.,, .." . ".•.... •",. • .. ' • I .-' •• •••• '-' • 11. - • - . . -. _ • . - ...... .... - _ ... . . - • . - . . • . , - , - . .. - , . - - - • VOL. LXI. THE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER PUBLISHED BVEHY TOBSDAY, AT NO, S NORTH DUHE STRUT, BY GEO. SANDERSON. TEEMS SUBSOEIPTION.—Two Dollars por annum, payable In ad vance. No subscription discontinued until all arrear ages are paid, unless at the option of the Editor. ADVlMTlENlENTS.—Advertisements, not exceeding one square, (12 Ham) will be inserted three times for one dollar,-and twenty-five cents for each additional inser tion. Those of greater length in proportion. Jon Pairrrizza,-Such as Hand Bills, Posters, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, &0., &c., executed with accuracy and on the shortest notice. THE PARSON BY Et. El. CLARK. When I was young, and fond of noise, And wore my first gray homespun jacket, And fought stout battles with the boys, And filled my father's house with racket,. Oar well-beloved pastor died, And left behind him scores of weepers— Stout pillars of the church, long tried, As well as lesser props—and sleepers. He was a patriarch, wise and gray, One of the old time Christian scholars, Who cheered affliction's weary way, And gave th' oppressed advice—and dollars The matrons' love for him, at last, Sublimed almost to veneration, For he'd baptized one-half the past, And all the present generation. Outside the church the good man held A comprehensive supervision, And village quidnuncs were compelled To bow before his calm decision. Though party strife might rage and swell, Or skeptics raise some knotty question, There came no storm he could not quell, No doubt too grave for his digestion. I do remember well the scone, When, all the congregation seated, He,closed the book with reverent mien, And twice the pregnant text repeated; And then, as influenced from above, His heart with holy themes expanding, Appealed to Faith and Christian Love, As well as human understanding. His looks, his tones, his earnest ways, Form one of memory's pleasing pictures, As he in strong, but homely phrase Imparted hope or uttered strictures. The velvet cap he always wore, Whene'er he thumped the pulpit cushion, Loomed like a beacon front the shorn, To warn us sinners from perdition. The best of men a cross must bear— So Providence or fate contrives it ; Of private griefs he had his share, And some that were not quite so private He might conceal the smouldering fire Of mental or domestic trial, But troubles with the wrangling choir Were patent as their own bass viol. Of course there was among his charge . One busy, meddling, ancient maiden, Who, like a fire ship, roamed at large, With furtive stores of scandal laden. tShe scattered brands of discord free, She slandered and annoyed the parson, Till all agreed she ought to be Indicted for constructive arson. On Wednesday nights he alwFays made To us a quiet pastoral visit ; So, when the bell his touch betrayed, . My mother never asked, "Who is it ?" But wheeling out the easy chair, With its inviting arms of leather, She laid his pipe, with thoughtful care, And steel tobaoco box together. -Those genial times were mellow ripe, When folks were not inclined to bicker, If ministers enjoyed a pipe, And sipped a social glass of liquor 6o while his cheerful features glowed, And smoke-wreaths circled to the ceiling, His talk in streams of wisdom flowed, Like waters from a fount of healing. We loved the man, revered him, too— As who did not that ever knew him'? His piety and kindness drew, With cords of love, all classes to him. His praise of men need not be lipped, To make our sorrowing hearts beat faster, For, memory holds a secret crypt, Wherein• is shrined our sainted pastor. E.M.,M=TZ. ; OR, A DIVIDED HEART AND A DIVIDED LIFE. BY MRS. SOUTHWORTH It was early on the morning of a lovely day in June, A. D., 1800, that a rather large group of idlers gathered in front of the Etheridge Arms, a quaint old tavern in the ancient little town of Swinburne, in the west of England. By their looks and conversation, it was evident that some event of unusual impor tance was expected to cone off. They were, in fact, awaiting the arrival of the mail coach, which was to bring down - Colonel Hastings, and his son Albert, who was the bridegroom elect of Lady Ethe ridge, Baroness of Swinburne, the last of her race, and sole heiress of the immense wealth and vast estates of her lordly an cestors. The nuptials were to be celebrated on the following day ; and the retainers and neighbors of the noble bride, who almost worshipped her for her goodness of heart, were anxious to see the man who was to be their beloved 4 lady's' husband. They had not long to wait. The coach soon came thundering up to the door ; and as isoon as the steps were let down by the obsequious landlord, Colonel Hastings issued forth. He was an elderly gentle man, tall, spare, and stooping ; was cloth ed in a suit of clerical black; and his pale, thin, long face was surrounded by hair and whiskers prematurely gray. He was closely attended by his Secretary— Ferdinand Cassinove—an Italian, of such graceful mien and dignified bearing, that he might have been taken for a prince of the blood attended by an old gentleman in waiting. Next came forth a young gentleman, whose handsome person and haughty man ner at once attracted general attention.— His form was tall, and finely proportioned, crowned by a haughty head and face, with high aquiline features, fair and fresh com plexion, light blue eyes, and very light, flaxen hair. His expression of countenance, in keeping with, his whole manner, was stern almost to repellant severity. Great beauty of person, with great dignity of manner, forms a combination very attrac tive to most young women, and perhaps it was this that fascinated the young heiress of. Swinburne Castle, for this was Albert Hastings, the bridegroom elect,. He was followed into the house by his valet, bear ing his dressing-case. After a slight repast, Colonel Hastings, attended by Cassinove, drove off to the castle to have a preliminary interview with Lady Etheridge, (who was his ward,) and arrange the marriage settlements. On arriving at the lordly castle, Cassinove was shown into a sitting-room, while the colonel proceeded to the library, whither his ward was requested to come to meet him. As the young Italian paced up and down the loom, occasionally pausing before a full length mirror, which reflected the spacious window (reaching from ceiling to floor) and the picturesque landscape be yond, suddenly, among the roses outside, gilded a purple-draped female figure, that immediately riveted his attention. It was a woman in the earliest bloom of youth.— As young Cassinove gazed upon her re flected image, as he never gazed upon her, he felt as though a goddess had suddenly descended among the flowers. Her form was above, the - medium height, and well rounded. Her head was finely formed, midi:overall with a profusion-of jet black, ; that was plainly I , parted over her broad, expansive forehead, and swept around the temples, and wound into a rich and massive knot at the back of the head. Her eyes were large, luminous; dark gray orbs, that seemed, whenever the long veil of lashes was lifted,. to throw a light wherever they glanced. Her nose was straight and well-formed, her lips rounded, and, like all the rest, full of character. In the carriage of her head and neck, and in her stately footsteps, there was a certain natural majesty that, even in a peasant's dress, would have proved her one of. Nature's queens. The impression made upon the enthusi astic heart of Ferdinand Cassinove was at once vivid, deep, and strong—quick as sun-painting, permanent as sculpture.— Ho saw this goddess of the intellectual brow and stately step open the window and advance into the room, and as she ap proached him he felt his whole frame thrill with a strange emotion of blended pain and delight. He dreaded to move, yet, as the needle turns to the magnet, he felt himself turning from the reflected image to face the original. He stood before that queenly form, and met those large, lumin ous, dark eyes fixed upon him in royal graciousness, as she said— , You are Colonel Hasting's Secretary, I believe, sir. Pray sit down. You will find the London papers on that- table.'— And, with a graceful bow, the lady passed him, and seated herself on a sofa, at the extremity of the room, took up a portfolio, and was soon deeply -engaged with its con tents. After the profound bow with which he had returned her'courtesy, Ferdinand Cas sinove remained motionless where she bad left him. But ten minutes had elapsed since she bad glided in among the flowers, and passed him like a vision seen in some beautiful dream. But ten minutes, and life, the world, himself, were all changed for Ferdinand Cassinove. He felt, from that mornent,that his fate must take its character for good or evil from the will of that royal-looking Woman. In the midst of the pleasing pain of his dream the door opened, and a gray-haired servant entered softly, and stepping across the room to where the lady sat, and speak ing in the low, subdued tone in which royal personages are addressed, said— ,My lady, Colonel Hasting's respeots, and he awaits your ladyship in the library.' Very well, Williams; go and say to Colonel Hastings that I will attend him iimediately,' answered the lady, rising. ! This queenly woman, then, was Laura, Bironess Etheridge, of Swinburne ! For lever and for ever unattainable _by him ! I Oh, despair ! His castle in the air tutn ! bled all about him, and buried all his hopes and aspirations in its fall. After greeting Colonel Hastings, on her entering the library, Lady Etheridge took a parchment from a drawer in the centre table, and handed it to her guardian. On examining the document, the colonel found it to be a deed of gift, absolute, of her entire magnificent estate, to Albert Hast ings, her intended husband. The colonel pretended much surprise, and refused to accept the deed, alleging that such an act might give rise to unpleasant criticism. " Oh Colonel Hastings ! there can be no question of mine and thine between me ! and Albert. The deed of gift that trans fers all my possessions to my future hus band is made out ; let it be executed: He shall then never be jealous of his wife's riches, for she will come to him as poor as a cottage girl,' exclaimed Lady Etheridge, with a pure devotion of love flushing her cheek and lighting her eyes. After protesting somewhat farther against such noble generosity, the colonel allowed himself to be persuaded to accept the deed, and called in Cassinove to wit ness its execution in due form. The poor secretary could scarcely hold the pen which the colonel handed him, so great was his agitation. His employer could not help remarking upon the unusually ! poor signature which the Italian affixed, as witness, to the deed ; but little did the colonel or the baroness know the terrible passions that were seething in the secreta lry's soul, or the important results that they were destined to bring about. We will now return to the bridegroom elect, whom we left at the Swinburne Arms. Colonel Hastings had scarcely left the room ere Mr. Albert Hastings arose, stretched himself with a weary yawn, and began to pace thoughtfully up and down the floor, murmuring— , Men think me a very fortunate and happy man ; and, doubtless, an unusual number of good gifts have been showered upon me by the favor of the blind goddess —not the least among them would be esteemed the hand of this wealthy young baroness, my bride expectant. Well, we cannot have everything we want in this world, else sweet Rose Elmer only should be the wife of Albert Hastings. Poor girl'? she little dreams that the man who has wooed her, under the name of William Lovel, is really Albert Hastings, the envied bridegroom of high-born Lady Etheridge, of Swinburne. It cannot be helped. I cannot pause for lady's right, or maiden's honor. Here, then, for a a divided life ; my hand to "the lady of Swinburne—my heart to the lovely cottage girl ; only Lady Etheridge must never know of Rose Elmer and William Lovel, nor must Rose Elmer know Lady Etheridge and Albert Hastings. And now to per suade Rose to go before me into Wales, where myself and my lady-bride are to spend our honeymoon.' And so saying, he took his hat, and strolled out into the street. Taking a dourse opposite to that which led to Swinbilthe Castle, Albert Hastings soon came tola cross-country road, which he followed for some two miles, and then turning into a by-path, he went on until he came to a secluded and . lovely cottage. Opening the door of this elegant retreat with a latch-key, he passed in. It was a lovely abode, fit for the home of a fairy. And for a fairy Albert Hastings had had it furnished. The fairy's name was Rose Elmer, and she was the daughter of the village laundress. Albert had accident ally met her on one of his visits to the castle, and, as' his soliloquy, given above, shows, had fallen desperately in love with her ; and, under the assumed name of William Lovell, had won the beautiful and innocent maiden's heart. He had hal! the cottage furnished, and was that morning to meet .Rose there, where they had so often met, by appoint ment, Rose _came at last;, and as soon as the first joyous greetings were over,the intriguing rover - goat at "work to &made 1 I s K THAT COUNTRY IS TRI YOST P LANCASTER CITY, -1". A., TUESDAY MORNING, MAY 22,-1860. her to consent to a secret marriage; as he well knee, by a thousand tests of charac- : ter, that he could 'never gain his purpose unless Rose believed herself to ba his wife. His task was a hard one ; but he finally succeeded, by promising that she should stay with her mother just_the same, as long as she lived. This was not at all that Mr. Hastings wished, but neither logic nor eloquence could convince or persuade Rose Elmer to desert her ailing mother; and upon no Other condition than that of being allowed to remain with her would she consent to the secret marriage. • . t. And, finally, he obtained a promise from Rose that she would meet him at the cottage that same night, where by a pre vious arrangement, his confidential servant disguised as a clergyman, was to be in attendance to perform the marriage cere mony. After which, Rose should return to her mother, to remain during the few weeks of his absence in Wales, whither, he said, important business forced him. This agreed upon, they took leave of -each other for a few hours, and returned to the village by different routes. Mr. Hastings went to . his inn, and summoned his confidential servant to his presence.— And Rose Elmer, full of hope and joy, turned down the street leading to her mother's cottage. • When Rose entered the house, there was a smouldering ire in the grate, and beside this fire, in an old arm chair, sat a female, whom no one would have passed without a second look. She was a woman of commanding presence. Het form was tall, and must once have been finely rounded ; but now it was worn thin, almost to skeleton meagerness. Her features were nobly chiselled, and might once have been grandly beautiful, but now they were sunken and emaciated as those of death., Under her broad and prominent forehead, and heavy black eye-brows, shone a pair of large, dark grey eyes, that burned fiercely with the fires of fever or of frenzy. Her jet black hair, slightly streaked with silver, was half covered with a red hand kerchief, tied beneath ler - chin, and partly fallen in elf locks down one side of her 'face. A rusty black gown and shawl completed her dress. As the door opened, admitting Rose, she turned quickly in her chair fixing her eyes with a look of fierce inquiry upon the intruder. " How are you now, mother dear? I hope`you feel in better spirits ?' said Rose laying off her bonnet, and coming to the woman's side. Better. Where have you been 1 I have wanted you.' I have been—taking a walk through the woods, dear mother; and see, here are some wild strawberries I picked for you on my return. Will you eat them said Rose, offering her little basket. No ; I want none of them. You care little for me.' Mother, don't say that. You do not know how much I love you.' Hush, girl, you have little cause—oh !' And the -woman suddenly struck her hand upon her heart, dropped her head upon her breast, and seemed convulsed by some great agony. Her features worked fright fully, her frame shuddered. 6 Mother ! mother ! what is the matter V exclaimed Rose, throwing her arms around the woman in great alarm. It is—past,' gasped the woman, breath ing with great difficulty. What was it, dear V A spasm. It is gone.' Oh, mother, will it return V Perh Let me run for a neighbor, or the doc tor.' , Nay, you must run somewhere else ! To-morrow, Laura—Lady Etheridge of Swineburne, weds with Albert Hastings, of Hastings Hall. It is so, is it not Surely, dear mother, the village is full of the wedding, and talks of nothing else. The village children have been employed all day in bearing flowers to decorate the castle church, and to strew in the path of the bride as she comes—they love her so wep.' Yes, she is a high and mighty lady ; yet, sweet and gracious as becomes one so exalted. Come hither, girl, kneel down before me, so that I may take your face be tween my hands !' said the woman, grow ing more strange in her talk. Rose obeyed, and her mother, bowing her own stern, dark face, shut that of the girl between 'her hands and gazed upon it wistfully, critically, murmuring— , Fair face, delicate features, complexion pure as the inside of a conch-shell, white, and flushed with red ; hair like fine yellow silk, and eyes blue and clear as those of infancy ; hands, small and elegant. I have not let poverty spoil your beauty, have I, my child ?' No, dear mother, you have let kind ness more likely spoil me,' said Rose, in simple wonder at her words. , I have not let your person grow coarse with hard work, have I, dear V 'No, mother ; notwithstanding that I ought to have worked with you, and for you.' Your hands have never been roughened by helping me in the laundry 1' No, mother ; though they ought to have been' Nor have your sweet eyes been spoiled by needle-work V No, good mother ; I have been as use less as a fine lady, to my shame.' g And I have worked hard to save you from work, and to pay for your schooling, have I not V Dear mother, yon have ! You have been the best mother in the world, and only too good to me. But I will try to repay you. Think of all thit to-morrow, child ; and when all the country around shudders at my crime, when all the people call down imprecations upon my name, do not you curse one who has nourished you at her bosom, when• that bosom is cold in death,' said the woman, solemnly. Oh ! she is mad ! mad !' exclaimed Rose, in dismay, at hearing these words; then lowerihg her voice, she said, Moth er ! mother ! try to collect yourself ! It is I, your poor daughter Rose, that kneels before you. Do you not know me V Ay, I know you well, and I know what I say,' repeated the woman, solemnly. Mother ! oh, why do you talk so wildly ? It is very dreadful ! Bat you are not well! —let me go for some one. 4 Yes ; you must go for some one. Yon must go to the castle this afternoon,' said the woman, in the same tone -of 44eep PRAY; " - 1.3:i I:1 Off.ll:,,o:llt:iyerVjil:l To the castle ! I, mother !' exclaimed Rose, in surprise. 4 Yes, you must go to the castle ; and, when you get there, ask to see her who calls herself Lady theridge: The baroness ! Dear mother, why does your thoughts so run upon the baron ess ? What is she to us ? Besides, is it likely that she will see me, a poor girl, a perfect stranger, this day of all others, when she sees no one 1' Huh, Rose! and for once obey one whom you have so long looked upon as your mother. It will be the last time I will ask you to do so. Demand to be admitted to the presence of the baroness. Say that you have come upon a matter of life and death, that nearly concerns her ladyship ; insist, and she will not venture to refuse you. When you stand before Lady Etheridge, say that her old nurse, Magdalene Elmer—' Her nurse, mother ! Yon Lady Ethe ridge's nurse ! I never knew that before !' interrupted Rose in surprise. There are many things that you never knew, my child. But attend! Say to the baroness that Magdalene Elmer is dying !' Dying ! Oh, mother, do not say so ! it is very cruel ! You are not sick in bed— you are sitting up ! You are not old either, but have many years of life before yoa!' 6 Child, hear my words, but do not judge them! Say to Lady Etheridge that Mag dalene Elmer, her dying nurse, prays— nayrdemands—to see her this night!— Tell her that I have a confession to make that she must hear to-night, or never !-- Conjure her by all she holds dear on earth ! by all her hopes of Heaven ! by all her fears of Hell ! to come to me to night! Tell her if she would escape the heaviest curse that could darken a woman's life, to come to me to-night! to come to me at once ! There, get on your bonnet, ami go !' The above is all of this story that will be published in our columns. The con tinuation of it from where it leaves off here can be found only in the New York Ledger, the great family paper, which is for sale at all the stores throughout the city and country, where papers are sold. Remember and ask for, the New York Ledger of May 26, and in it you will find the continuation of the story from where it leaves off here. The Ledger is mailed to subscribers at $2 a year, or two copies for $3. Address your letters to Robert Bonner, publisher, 40 Park Row, New York. It is the band somest and best family paper in the coun try, elegantly illustrated, and character ized by a high moral tone. [Written for the New Orleans Crescent.] Mr. Trittrot's Literary Effort. BY MARY ASHLEY To be a young man with nothing to do is to be placed in a dreadful position. We have ancient authority to prove the fact, for long before Mr. Augustus Trittrot wore long clothes, or had any need of pap-spoons or rattles, it was written that idleness is the mother of vice, and, more over, that " Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do." Now to have such a patron as the last mentioned individual seeking employment for one, is certainly no credit to a body, and Mr. Trittrot being aware of the quick sand upon which he was standing, while his friend in sable was busying him Alf in his behalf, concluded to turn the tables and himself patronize the devil; a more modern one, however, the imp of the press. Mr. Trittrot had great faith in his impulses ; he trusted implicitly in them— acted upon them at once. To think of this d—l was to serve him. He took up his pen, held it over his inkstand awhile, as visions-danced before his eyes of the smiles and congratulations and compli ments which would be his when it should become known in the village of his adop tion that the recent successful article in the columns of the Crisp County Courier was really written by him. Puffs of the creamiest odor and most delicious flavor lay before his mind's eye, gotten up by the county editor, and running something like this— It gives us extreme pleasure to an nounce the fact that the flourishing article written on the subject of —, and giving evidence of so fine a mind, so rich a genius, so high an order of talent, such a degree of wit, embodying so much pathos, displaying such a thorough knowledge of human nature, conveying so touching a moral, etc., etc., etc., is by our ac complished, gentlemanly, highly-bred and warmly, appreciated fellow-townsman, Au gustus Trittrot, Esq., etc., etc., etc." These imaginary notices were very flattering. Augustus laid down his pen, went to the glass and rearranged his neck tie with an additional air of importance in his already very important bearing. Strange,' he soliloquised, 'that I never hit upon this before. Shouldn't be at all surprised if the editor should offer to pay for my articles. Should of course appre ciate the compliment conveyed in such a tender, but what a handsome rejection of his. paltry coin I would write him. Pay ! as though brains could be hired by the job, like bricklayers, or fiddlers to country dances ! How delighted the Adamses will be, they are of such a literary turn ' • and there's the Fletcher family, and the Relaces ! all diamonds of the first water in society, and so fond of showing their appreciation of modest merit! I think I see them all _crowding round' me saying, 4 We congratulate you,Mr. Trittrot—we are proud of you, r. Trittrot—really, Mr. Trittrot,-we never dreamed what a gem of genius was lying perdu in our midst before. May its light never be less.' In the most complacent mood, Mr. Augustus T. resumed his pen. He, felt capable of doing justice to any theme, but wished to - select for his first article some topic of light and general interest—some thing particularly adapted to the columns of a country newspaper. He anxiously wished to avoid anything which, however twisted and turned; could be personally applied by any of his friends. He had heard of promising authors splitting upon such rocks, and he was anxious, above all things, to steer clear of them himself. He enjoyed a degree of popularity in the, village where he lived which he valued too highly to afford to lose ; and he would as soon have thought of existing without his three meals a, day, as without the - favor of the Adamses; the Fletehers : and the Relaees, the three first families in the Till fRIX&ITEIT EXIVAILD:'-BIIMIANABL g I have it at length.; I will take a country town as my subject—surely noth ing could possess more general interest a pithy description of some petty village —a. few hits at some characters to be found in all country placesa few reflec tions applicable to any 'small settlettent. Surely, I could not have made a. happier choice.'. The oriole was written. Mr. Trittrot himself was pleased with it. He wondered if it was usual for authdrs to feel pleased with their own productions. He tried to tone down his feelings, lest they should transcend the limits of modest merit.' He carefully revised it ; polished up his knowledge of the rules of punctuation ; sent his gold pen upon another tour through his Country Town ; allowed it to pause for a period here ; to curvet at a comma there; pause to bow at a semicolon somewhere else. Then he attached his signature, with all the flourishes in which he had become so proficient at Professor Dolbear's Writing Academy in New Orleans. His name . had never looked so well in his eyes before. The truth is, a man's name never does look so well as when attached to honest labor. He may harness it up to idle recreations, to reckless expenditures or liberal indolence, and be called 'a good fellow,' a first rate chap,' a whole-souled institution,' and all that ; but. it is not till he affixes it to some honest occupation— real labor of head or hand—that it gains solid footing in a community, or looms up in the steady light of worthy respectability to its owner: Mr. Trittrot understood something of this. When he looked upon his name at, the foot of what he had intended for an_innocent, cheerful, sunny picture of general, but real life in a country village—a picture which, with all the pre ponderance of the bump of self-esteem in his cranium, he could not bat admit had been a task of real labor. With his own hands he bore it to the village post-office; and as he slily slipped it into the box with all its luminous address to Crisp Brioket, Esq., editor of the Crisp County Courier,' he chuckled to think with what awe and curiosity the postmaster would regard him through that little window, where heretofore they had met face to face in such friendly familiari ty, when it should be fully known that he, Augustus Trittrot, really wrote for the Press ! Alas, Augustus, for thy mistake ! It is not when a man becomes a public charac ter that he inspires his fellow with awe and curiosity. These sentiments are laid aside as he lays aside the private individual, and, forever after, he is a common property —a sort of government land which every one imagines can be bought cheap and held by paying the taxes. It would be a week before the sketch could make its appearance. Augustus made up his mind that Eternity meant waiting a week for something or somebody one wanted to see. The evening before publication day the Fletohers gave a party. Of course Mr. Trittrot was there—everybody was there. Never had Augustus been so brilliant; never had he experienced such a flow of spirit.. The prospect of looking, so to speak, his brains in the face on the mor row, did not in the least intimidate him. If any one had asked him then that serious question, which had busied so many pens and puzzled so many poets to answer—lf Time himself had stopped in his steady course to say to him What is Life V he would have answered, it is a glory—a triumph—a beaker brimmed with bliss— a state of elation—it is a satisfaction—it is all. Supper was over at the Fletchers, and the company were in that unsettled state between music and promenading which usually follows ice cream and cold meats eaten near midnight. Our Augustus had upon his arm Miss Adams, the belle of the town ; and suddenly every one's attention was arrested by the sage figure of Deacon Sobersides standing between the folding doors, spectacles mounted and a most pbr tentOus expression of countenance, while in his hand he held an advance copy of the Crisp County Courier. Ladies and gentlemen,' he said, your attention for a little while. I have an article to read you. We have been scan dalized, outrageously villified, and I wish you to tell me which is the most worthy of being drummed out of town, the editor who published the stuff or the man who wrote it?' A pin might have been heard to drop, and the company seemed turned to groups of statuary, as in listening and expectant attitudes they bent to catch the first word. Augustus Trittrot shared the general feeling. Who was the vile author of a calumny upon this most excellent com munity ? What could it be 1 Who could have dared ? . With slow, sonorous tones, Deacon Sobersides read, as he raised the paper to his eyes, the title of Mr. Trittrot's first literary effort. He could not believe it ! This the calumny 1 this the villification ? his piece impossible ! Bat, like a parson anxious to impress his text upon his hear ers' minds, again the deacon read that self-same title. Augustus choked. It seemed to him that the high scaffold he had mounted was suddenly knocked from under him and a rope was round his neck. He knew his own name would close that terrible reading, and he knew that Deacon Sobersides, who was a man entertaining strict and peculiar notions of duty, and had long striven in vain to bring our hero to join the sheep he was zealously driving to the fold—he knew the deacon would consider it a righteous privilege and his bounden duty to read that name with stern and terrible emphasis to that expectant crowd. He stood his ground, however, and when the name of Augustus Trittrot rolled from the deacon's lips, he felt the small hand on his arm twitch nervously—felt rather than saw the 'quick glance of' indignant astonishment Miss Adams gave him, titen knew she had left his side. In an instant he was isolated ; every one had left him, and conversation, low and indignant, was swelling through rooms. Only for, an instant did surprise and disappointment overwhelm Augustus. Then he drew him self up, walked to the place between the folding-doors the deacon had vacated and said, in clear, distinct tones, g Ladies and gentlemen. Conversation ceased, and the company, again became group of statuary. They represented anger and contempt now; however, as a few minutes before they had represented interest and expectation. With all the leloquence he was master of, Mr. Trittrot disclaimed all thought of being personal in what he had intended for a harmless picture of country life in general. Of this community, he knew only good—he had ever felt proud that he was a member of it. He was shocked at the turn affairs had taken—he called upon. any one present to tell him if in their experi ence they knew not a thousand places where his sketch could better, a thousand times better, be applied than here. He hoped that his friends would take his word ' Do not, say a gentleman,' interrupted Mrs. Adams, who, with a daughter hover ing on each side of her, stood near the epeaker—cyou are no gentleman, sir.—. You know you meant me when you allud ed to the old lady who took snuff in private, and supposed no one knew it—you know you did, you scamp. Upon my honor, madam, this is my first knowledge of your habit, which I am sure is innocent enough if —' - You meant me,' interrupted Mrs. Fletoher, when you alluded to the woman who never allowed her servants to have any butter to eat.' And me,' cried Madame Relaoe, 4 when you spoke of the mother with marriageable daughters, whom she is so anxious to marry off that when, in fruit time, she nailed up the notice of man traps within,' to keep the boys from stealing her cherries, the young men of the place took it that she meant her girls. Oh, don't deny it ! don't deny it! You can't mend matters now.-- Don't open your mouth to me, sir.' And he meant me,' roared the deacon, when he said one member of the church was in the habit of filching enough from the subscription plate on Sunday to pay for the wine used on his own dinner table.— Who carries round the plate but me, I'd like to know ' • and how the deq,— develop ment to such a plot could be allowed to go on in a young man's brain - without scorching it, I can't tell.' In vain Augustus remonstrated—in vain he told them they were revealing facts never dreamed of in his philosophy—in vain he begged them, for their own sakes, to hush. His pen had been dipped in the ink of human nature, and every one recog nized a portrait of im or her - individual self in the pictures it had drawn. He felt like an icicle in a winter's sun, stand ing there under Mrs. Fletcher's chande liers, and the company seemed to drip off from him, so coldly did they pay him mock courtesy and pass away. What had become of his dream of fame, and pleasure and congratulation l Gone was the glory—the triumph—the beakers on the brim—the elation which he had a little while before called Life. He rushed home. For days he tried to brave the storm—to breast the battle. Alas ! the bird was down, and everybody now seemed eager to pluck a plume from his disabled wings. No one would see the ridiculous light in which people were placing them selves by applying what he, the author, never dreamed could be ap plied to them, and even the postmaster, now-a-days, flung his mail matter through the little window as though the person to whom those let ters were addressed was 4 nobody, nohow' Finally one of the village dignitaries called and insinuated to Mr. Trittrot that he had better settle in some other place, and reminded him that the top rail of any of the surrounding fences could easily be taken down in case of emergency. A word to the wise was sufficient, and vexed beyond measure at himself, at the community, at everything, Mr. Trittrot disappeared from the village, chewing as he went, for very spite, the only copy he possessed of his first literary effort. CARDS. DR.JOHNIII , CALLA, DENTIST.—OffIce and Residence, one door below the Lamb Hotel, West Kiog street, Lancaster, Pa. [apr 18 tf 13 A LDIIS J. NEFF, Attorney at 'Law.— _L - 1 Office with B. A. Shaffer, Esq., south-west corner of Centre Square, Lancaster. may 16,'66 ly 17 10 1BRAH SHANK, ATTORNEY AT LAW, OPTICS WITH D. G. ESHLEMAN, ESQ., No. 36 NORTH DUEL ST LANCASTER, PA. NEWTON LIGHTNER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, has his Office in North Duke street, nearly opposite the Court House. Lancaster, apr 1 tf 11 EMOYAL.--SIMOR P. EBY, Attorney JA, at Law, has removed his Office from North Duke street to No. 3, in Widmyer's Row,. South Duke street, Lancaster, Pa. [mar 13 tf 9 FREDERICK S. PYFER, ATTORNEY AT LAW. OFFICE—No. 11 NORTE( DUKE STREET, (WEST HIDE,) Lea CASTER, Pa. apr 20 tf 14 RE MOVAL.--WILLIAM S. AMWEG, Attorney at Law, has removed his office from his former place into South Duke street, nearly opposite the Trinity Lutheran Church. apr 8 tf 12 HALL FOREMAN, ATTORNEY AT LAW. OFF/OE WITH T. E. FRANKLIN, ESQ., No. 26 BAST ICING Sr LANCASTER, PA. ANDREW J. STEI.NDAN, ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office formerly occupied by the late Col. Iteah Frazer opposite Cooper's Hotel, West King street. apr 17 ly 14 T"DWARD M'GOVERN, TA ATTORNEY AT LAW, No. 3 South Queen street, in Reed, hlcGratin, Kelly & Co.'s Banking Building, Lancaster, Pa. apr 6 tt 12 EMOVAL.--WILLIAM B. FORDNE 11, Attorney at Law, has removed his office from North Queen street to the building in the south-east corner of Centre Square, formerly known as Hnbley's Hotel. Lancaster, Burl' 10 THEO. W. HERR, SURVEYOR, CON VEYANCER AND SCRIVENER. Ossrox—No. 2Z North Duke street, opposite the Court House, Lancaster, Pa. mar 20 ly 10 RRIMOVAL.-=ll. B. SWARR, Attorney at Law, has removed his office to No. 13 North Duke street, nearly opposite his former location, and a Jew doors north of the Court House. apr 5 3m 12 W T. RIePHAIL, ATTORNEY AT LAW, mar . Rl ly 11 No. 11 N. Dues ar., LearcasYsm, PA. ',WILBERFORCE DIEVIN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Office No. 24 North Queen street, nearly oppoeite Michael's Hotel, Lancaster, Pa. [oct 25 Iyf f 1 SADIIIEL FL REYNOLDS, Attorney at law. Office, No. 14 North Duke street, opposite the Court House. • . may 6 tf 16 NIT A SHINGTON W. HOPKINS, 11 ATTORNEY AT LAW. Oftlee with N. Lightner 44 J. IL:Alexander, Esqs„ Doke St, nearly opposite Court Rouse. [cab 7 6m 5 4 TEASE LANDIS, Attorney at Law.—Of ep flee one door east otLechler's Hotel, East King street, Lancaster, Pa. ea. All kinds of Serivening—such as writing Wills, Deeds, Mortgages, Accounts, Ate., will briattended to with correctness and despatch. _ may 16, '66 tf-17 - TAILIES Attorney at Le.w.--Of floee to East King street, two doors east of Leehler's Hotel, Lancaster, thisineils connected with his profession, and all kinds of writing, each as priparing :Deeds, Mortgages, Wills, Stating Accounts, ie.', promptly attended to; tf.l7 m 16. • JOHN F. Baiwroar, 0 ATTORNEY AT LAW, - - PHILADELPHIA, Hairemoyed Ids office to hie residence, No. 249 South 6th Street, above Spruce. Refers by permission to Hon. H. G. LONG, " • A. L. Hurze r tzesal Smirroir, TaIDDIN STEMS. not 24 ly*4s AIitHOITAL...DII.: 1". J. T. BAKER, ofit,- (SPATHIC PHYSICIAN, iota retoofid his office to No. es that Sing itreetoieztilool'lhOlo Ireottotoor-Probioat W:A.Chittb/er.P/Mad4P4iat : Calls 4021 Um ooantq 18 4 r l #!f ded 16 ' spr • ; - - _ •11'' , NO 119. AREEI .8 H B NES ."' JDANDY AND WINDSOR CHAIR No. 59% East Stag street, Lancaster ; Takes pleasure in Inviting. the.ub ll o to cal at his Wars rooms, and examine his BEAU `INUL ASSOItTittENTOR CHAIRS UP VARIOUS PATTERNS. ye...ORDERS roDelvegi.and promptly attended bifartUla shortest notice. None but - thebest workmenaremploissi In this establishment, consequently Chairs purchased- it this house are fully equal to anyartfcle eoldin thiluitern Cities. Call and examine for yourselves. [aug 18 I,y 81- NATIONAL POLICE GAZIOTTIChei.'-this Great Journal of Crime and Criudindi la in: its 12drw teenth year,and is widely circulated throughout the wan- , try. It is the first paper of the kind Wished In the United States, and is distinctive in its character. it has, lately pursed into the bands of Geo. W. - Mataell at.o6.,tiy; whom it will hereafter be conducted. Mr. Matadi. Wel • fbrlllerly Chief of Police of New 'York City, and 11a Will no doubt render it one of the most interesting papers . in the country. Its editorials are forcibly written, and of a char• attar that should command fbr the paper universal sup port. Subscriptions, $2 per annum ; gift Eli Months, to be remitted by Subscribers, (who should write their names . and the town, county and state where they reside plainly,) to CEO. W. MATSELL k 004 Editors and Proprietors etthe , National Police Gisettek New York City. . T 3 II 'IL DA NG SLATE. -The aubaerillOar, .0 has just received a large lot of PR&O BOTTOM and . EE YORK COUNTY BUILDING SLATE, which.. ha will put on by the alum or sell by the ton, on the most reasonable terms. He has also constantly on hand in extra light. Peach Bottom Building Slate,intended for slating on top of shingles: Please ,call and examine my PEACH BOTTOM SLATE, which are the best in, the market, and cannot be had at any other yard, as I have made arrangements with B. P. Jones for the Lancaster Market. . - . • GEORGE D. BYRECIIER, North Queen St., Lancaster, Penna. Sir- The above elate can also be bad at Y. El. BLETVB Lumber Yard, Columbia. This is to certify that we do not sail Our best quality Peach Bottom Guaged Slate to any other per eon in Lancaster city than the above named. R. P. JONES, Manufacturers of Peach Bottom Roofing Slate. oet 6 HMI .A.RDW ARK . • HGEO. D. 3PRE0H.E.8 . 4-BRO. ' NO. 27 NORTH QUEEN STREET, L&NOASTER,PA., Wholesale and Retail Dealers in Foreign and Domestic • HARDW ABE. THE NEW DINING ROOM COOK STOVE, which is now offered to the public, Is Hi^ nost complete Stove In use, having many advantages over all-other Cook Stoves, there being two Ovens, large enough• for baking purposes, with a flue to carry off the steam, thus avoiding an unpleasant dampness in the dining room, or wherever used. Wood or coal can be need. • AKir We have just received a full assortment of MOUS EKEEP - ING GOOOS, consiiting of Tubs, Churns, Buckets, Knives, Forks, Spoons, Shovels, Tongs, Sad Irons, Candlesticks, Copper and Brass Kettles, Pans, Waiters, &c. We would also call the attention of the public to our New Patent Air Tight Cook Stove which has many ad vantages over the common Cook Stove, and cannot be had at any other store in Lancaster. Also, a large assortment of Cook, Parlor, Ear-room and Hall Stoves. Also, the beat Parlor Gas Burner Improved. A complete assortment' of Coach, Trimmings, such as Axles, Felloes, Laces, Patent Enameled Leather - Plain Enameled and Floor 011 Cloths, Bolts, Malleable Leather, - Plain ac. Also, Saddlery Tools, Cutlery, Building Material, Paints, Oils, White Lead, Glass, Varnishes, do. • The highest market price paid for Clover, Timothy and Flax Seed. 17fir Also a large assortment of COAL OIL LAMPS.- Also, the C oat 011. We have constantly.on hand Peach Bottom and York County Building Slate, which will be put on by the ton or square, on the most reasonable terms. GEO. D. SEARCHER & BRO. Air We have also the Agency of the Jersey Mowing and Reaping Machine, and have also the Jersey Machine with the Dorsey Bake on, which has given entire satisfaction last season feb 21 tf 6 ELIAS BARR & 00., 31 Rust King street, Are Sole Agents in Lancaster and York counties for the following VALUABLE .SUBSCRIPTION BOOKS: THE NEW AMERICAN OYOLOPIEDIA, the Ninth Vol ume of which is expected early In April, excels the prom lees of its editors in every respect. We are grateful to our friends fur their very liberal encouragement, and are proud to know that not one of our numerous subierlbers regrets having given his name for this valuable work. Each vol ume costs less than four cents per day. THE LIFE OF THOMAS JEFFERSON—RandaII. Senator Seward, in his lute great speech in the United States Senate, introduced an extract from Jefferson's writ ings in support of his position on the slavery question.— Every person who desires to know what Jefferson did say and write, and nil be said_ and wrote in reference to this subject, should purchase a copy of this authentic and au thorized Life of the Sage of Monticello. Complete in three volumes. Cloth, $2.50 ;.Library, $3; half Calf, $4 per vol ume. ...MEMOIR OF THE LIFE OF JOHN QUINOY ADAMS— Quincy. Every man, who cherishes a respect for the mem ory of the venerable Pioneer of the Republican end anti- Slavery party, should possess a copy of this very interest ing and valuable memoir. One volume, Oloth, $2.25; Li brary, BENTON'S ABRIDGEMENT OF THE DEBATES OF CONGRESS. To be completed In 15 volumes. 13 volumes are now out, bringing it down to 1839. Price in Law Li brary Binding, $3.50 per volume. COOPER'S NOVELS, illustrated by Dailey. A magnift , cent effort, worthy of the fame of the great . American novelist—to be completed in thirty-two volumes—fourteen volumes out—published monthly. Price per .volume Also, The Traveler's Edition, 75 cents per volume. Darley's Vignettes of Cooper, $3 per folio. THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF KIT CARSON, guide and friend of Col. Fremont in his travels and perilous adventures in the Rocky Mountains. 1 vol., cloth, $2.50. PATTON'S HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES, a new and reliable work. 1 vol., $3. BISHOP DOANE'S LIFE AND WRITINGS, containing his Political Works, Sermons and Miscellaneous Writings, with a Memoir, by his sou. In Three or jilve volumes.' Price $2 60 per volume. AMERICAN ELOQUENCE. Two vol., $3 per volume. BURTON'S CYCLOPEDIA OF WIT AND HUMOR, in various styles of binding. WORCESTER'S • QUARTO DICTIONARY ILLUSTRATED mar 6 tt 8] K NICKERBOCKER MAGAZINE. FIFTY-FIFTH, VOLUME. ; LOUIS GAYLORD CLARK, 'DR. NAMES •O. NOYES, EDITORS.. • The present number closes the fifty-fette' volume - of the KNICKERBOCKES, and while we thank our patrons for their past favors, we shall strive to increasei their number' by redoubled care and effort in every 'department ,of Magazine. We expect in oar next number; to be able to announce a series of articles on Popular Astronomy, by the most distinguished writer upon that 'science in the land. 'Stories and Pictures' of the lindsin will be com pleted during the year, and the two volumes will contain the best sketches, tales, poems, etc., that c a n be procured for the entertainment of our readers. PREMIUM FOR 1860 In order to increase the already large circulation of the Rincxxanocxxa, we publish this month a splendid line .. engraving of Frith's picture of • Merry-Making in the • Olden Time, ' which we shall present exclusively to the $3 subscribers to the Magazine for 1860 whether old or The subject represents the pastimes of our ancestors, and is eminently of a genial, demeetic character. The plate, engraved in England at an expense of 2000 dollars, to entirely new, measures twenty-five by .nineteen and a half inches in Fire, contains thirty-nine figures, and -Is . beyond •' comparison the finest work of the kind ever offered a . premium in this country. ' The engraving of Frith's picture of Merry-Makin : the Olden Time, represents the humors of an English-hell day in the county in those good old times When the men wore cocked-hats and kneobeeeches, and the women .stays • and hoops—a costume not essentially differing 'from the corset and crinoline of the present day. ,dlmost in the centre of the picture and a little to the hark-ground is a country dance on the green, with a - Itard-fitatnred fiddler perched on a high seat, and another musician in a tie-wig -standing by him, playing with all their Might. On the right two botincing girls are gaily polling toward the dance • a gray-haired man, who seems vainly to remonstrate that 1 - his dancing days are over,' while a waggish Little child. pushes him forwald from behind, greatly to the amusement of his spouse, who 15 still sitting at the tea-table, from which he has been dragged. On the left, tinder a magnifi cent spreading oak, sit the 'squire and his; wife, whom countryman with his hat off is respectfulsy Inviting tO take part in the dance. To the left of the 'make_ fan young r' . ". couple on the grass, to whom agipsy with an Infant on her , shoulder is telling their fortu ne. Over the shot:tidiest' of .: this couple is seen a group engaged in quoltrplaying,•end back of the whole is a tandsape of gentle slopes and - copses. The picture hasthe expression of gayety through- ; out and the engraving is splendidly executed. - It is fresh • ' from the burin of Hots, not having yet tionn published in England.' ' TERMS.—Twenty-five cents per number,! ! or , Vt. per. an; num, in advance- two copies $5; three copies , s q, The postage on the Magazine (twenty-four cettte, per annum) to be paid in all cases at the office where it ix: received. . • Arir To' every $3 subscriber for 1860, incloving — twelve cents extra in stamps, will be sent, frewof Postage, Tec copy of the new and splendid engraving of.' Merry-Making in the Olden Time.' Whoever shall send.us the ninsardf Iva" $3 subscribers, and stamps, ($15.60,) will receive • the .. Knickerboker for one year and the Engraving gra/. • - CLUB RATES FOR NEW - 13UBSCRIBERS-- TO THE KNICKERBOCKER: TELE OHEAPEOTAVER OYPER ED IN THE COUNTRY. The Knickerbocker and N. Y. Weekly Tribune,. Tinto; Newa,,Brening Post, or American . Agriculttnalrist,324 The Knickerbocker and N: Y. Independent, Bran gelist, or Christian Advocate and Joanna, tall new.enb " - scribers,) $3.50. The Knickerbocker and N.Y. Observer, Monte Aninsair Ballou's Pictorial, Harper's Weekly (new aubecribme,) or, any of the $3.00 Magazines or Reprints of Foreign Eh eed.i. cats, (new subecrlbers,)s4.oo. Any Club subscriber remitting na $l.l2Aa addition : to • the above rates will get; free of postage, aoopl Of 'Merry- t . ; Ma ki ng In the Olden . Time.' Yamilles by uniting In time clube can procure the best Magazine, the hest NeWariparr, and the beet Engraving 'of tile yea , sting. that hhaallff the - The Ktdckerbockir Is fruidshed*to teachers, postmasteire, 414 d all periodicals and journals, at the rinb•rate of $2 a... year... Booksellers and Newsmen will leant the rice per' hundred, atc.,:con application to the publtaker. • AGENTS A.RB WANTED in every part. Of the country, , to cantons for thellilighdne and , Engraving. ;Bark' 'num- • bent and bound volumes on hand. • _ JOHN A:GRAY, Publisher, +." • - 12MAZIliWMI 10) T AND SDI. 81ADN.415,, • - T 1C.1: 1 •N T o‘iff - • ' l' , • lIBRI AB . ' A" Nil" DidT N B ; ',D 11130. s .MaikaiantPA*0 421 kAilurta t , ‘lff has the most extensive assortnpiitotßo t , -LEATHBR of airdmittidtions idiatandlOiligneetitirthig, ,, a Slane:der, Breach and City Caltifidnsi , Mm. YfamLip Morocco Linings; Lacings, -, Lea th ei , Apron Bhoe ; ToOls, Lanny Findings ,. an , 09 militate for Boot and ilhoeniiking, - Beta, at the, owest prie st, to wtitit:b. 5 :on of the trade. lde a .l. ran ' I L El....carstale„ 01-14 - 41 ,pot Q4.I , II4k£ITONB, ENNEILN, - I ytit , c fc ; fat WM= .icaa
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