..,•.: --:-:-,;!. 7.: - .c.17) ,' ;. -- - : - 3 - - -- - --- -,.„-.,,::,.—,..,-.,•...;.-,,,-_ . . . - , - r - -i ' - . - ' - . 11 . ; -!.. .4 .1- i.... 1 4 - - - - - - - - r) 'T ' r ll . t iligll illllkll# . - - _ .... _ • . " -7 , - . ' - . -- ' - -..- • - , • ' . '.. 1 ',7,;. , „,,:- t i„,,.; iiz ,. , 0 4 ~:` • I ,• , ... _ „ _ . i ,4 72 7. ,•:-::% , • - . ''sil r .;.:' P. 1 ;-. : ' , . . .... , , . ,•• - . , . Cl e . . 0 .1 V.,; ~, .i..' ' . - 1'; --;-, - . I : r. - .z ... z,.;71 •", :; • , :.'-i '' . . . i • I. T - ' - ..... "I ',... . _ .. . .. , . . , -...._..„_. ~ 1. ' a ..1-- .3 t., ':.:' :... •',: r: ' .... 1 - 1 l'.T ,'i:lf ,!'.- I . v.- .- -' - • . - - . . ' ' • . . . • . VOL. LXII. THE . : LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER PROMOTER& EVIRT TOT.EIDAY, AT NO. 8 NORTH DT= STRUT, BY GEO. SANDBRSON. TERMS Bosscarrrtox.—Two Dollars per annum, payable In ad vance. No subscription discontinued until all arrear ages are paid. unless at the option of the Editor. ADVlRTlONESTB.—Advertisements, not exceeding one square. (12 lines,) will be inserted three times for one dollar, and twenty-five cents for each additional finer , tier'. Those of greater length iu proportion. Jos Pantruto—Such as Hand Bills, Posters, Pamphlets, Blanks, !Abets, &c., &c., executed with accuracy and on shortest, notice. THE DEAD BY THOMAS H. HOWARD My thonglitamarobed outward, solemn al a train Of martial men, trampling with hasty tread The mid-night street : across my throbbing brain They march to meet the Dead. Out in the siiliness, where no echoes beat i x 'Unreel sounds against the silent air, 4 „,...- In nodal ng armies. spirit-feet Glide y everywhere. Softly an iftly glide the true evangels, Where ight and love, like golden rain, are shed; "We eek not ye," my Thoughts said to the angels, " We march to meet the Dead." The Dead are we." said they ; my soul expanding, Drank in the liquid sound—virk DEAD sax WE : " We seekers are, who seek the understanding Of men that will not see. By day and night, our hope, and our endeavor, Are reaching inward to the hearts of men ; By day and night, we strive against the Never That seems to shroud the When. "Go back, brave Thoughts, and struggle for the holy, Drag upward ` Mind from uncongenial gloom : Cry out aloud, Ascend !' to all the lowly; Shout 'Life r through all the tombs. " Clothe yourselves sweetly in melodious measures; For from angelic choirs the music rolls, And song is of the earth's divinest treasures, In harmonising souls. " From our exhaustless love are ever springing The tides, wherein man's glowing heart rejoices, And ceaselessly earth's heavenly minds are ringing With songs of heavenly voices. " So say, brave Thoughts. we are the Dead, who ever, With love undying, watch the homes of men, And day and night, we.strive against the Never That seems to shroud the When." My Thoughts marched inward, Joyful as a train Of angels-4 to all the earth replying: Oh! dell not ye the dead " The Dead"again, For they are the Undying. [The Knickerbocker. A LITTLE LONGER YET. A little longer yet, a little longer, Shall violets bloom for thee, and sweet birds sing, And the lime branches where soft winds are blowing, Shall murmur the sweet promise of the spring. A little longer yet. a little longer, Thou shalt behold the quiet of the morn, While tender grasses and awakening flowers Send up a golden tint to greet the dawn. A 1 the longer yet, a little longer. • The tenderness of twilight shall be thine— The rosy clouds that float o'er dying daylight ; Nor fade till trembling stars begin to shine. A little longer yet, a little longer, Shall starry night be beautiful for thee, And the cold moon shall look through the blue si lence, Flooding her silver pa'h upon the sea. A little longer yet, a little longer, Lir• shalt be thine. lire with its poorer to will— Life with its strength to bear, to love, to conquer, Bringing its thousand joys thy heart to fill. A little longer yet, a little longer, The voices thou bast loved shall charm thine ear, And thy true heart that now ,beats quick to hear them, A little longer yet shall hold.them dear. A little longer yet, joy while thou may'st ; Love and rejoice, for time has naught in store; And soon the darkness "of the grave shall bid thee Love and rejoice, and feel and know no more. A little longer still—patience, beloved; A little longer still e'er heaven unroll The glory and the brightness and the wonder, Eternal and divine, that waits the soul. A little longer ere life true, immortal, (Not this, our shadowy life,) will be thine own, And thou shalt stand where winged archangels worship, And trembling bow before the great white throne. A little longer still, and heaven awaits thee, And fills thy spirit with a great delight; Then our pale j• ye will seem a dream forgotten, Our sun a darkness, and our day a night. A little longer, and thy heart, beloved, Shall beat forever with a love divine, And joy so pure, so mighty, so eternal, No mortal knows and lives, shall then be thine A little longer yet, and angel voices Shall sing in heavenly chant upon thine ear; Angela and salute await thee, and God needs thee ; Beloved, can we bid thee longer here? The Crusader's Temptation ; OR, THE ENCHANTRESS OF THE OLD TOWER, BY F. CLINTON BARRINGTON Arthur Templeton, a young and noble knight, was proceeding on a special mis sion from the camp of the returning Cru saders to the Count Fontenay's castle, some twelve miles distant. He had been entrusted by one Baron Rodney, the com mander of the Christian host, with a letter to the Baron, and ordered to proceed in advance of the army, that the old Count might make preparations for the reception of his old comrade and particular friend. The young crusader had already pro ceeded several miles in advance of the crusaders, and two-thirds of the distance e had to traverse. He was near his native village, which even lay beside the route he was called upon to pass, and it was very natural that his thoughts should revert to the friends and relatives ho ex pected to meet, after his two years of strife and wandering in the holy land. He was a brave and moat honorable young knight, but was not returning with the honors he bad expressed the hope of winning, when, two years before, he bade adieu to the idol of his heart, the gentle maiden Edith Brenneth. I wonder,' he soliloquized, as he rode along, how dear Edith will receive me, when she knows that I am the same poor knight I was two years ago ? Her stern old father said I never should have his daughter unless I returned powerful and honored—alas for his resolution ! I can only tell them that the Baron Rodney has spared no pains to keep me in the back ground, and I suspect even that he has prevented all knowledge of my meritorous services from reaching the village. Faith ! what if my suspicion should prove true— that the Baron himself is in love with Edith I Guess PR call up my faithful squire and consult him again on the sub ject.' He reined in his horse, looking behind him, and waited till his follower rode in view, then he beckoned him to hasten. The man put spurs to his somewhat jaded steed, and soon reached his master's side, when the question which had risen in Arthur's thoughts was only discussed. The squire, who was a middle-aged, quiet sort of an individual, did not venture to express any decided opinion, but allowed the knight to think and reason as he pleased. Suddenly, upon passing an old tower, a short distance in advance of his squire, the crusader was startled at seeing three beautiful young girls, who were seated on the greensward near the foot of the ruined edifice, with a repast of choice delicacies and wines before them, which they were enjoying in the moontide shade. No sooner:did their eyes rest upon the knight, thskt:they started up hastening towards hinuinid causing him to rein , in his steed. 4 84'kt:tight,' cried one of the gay bean ties, in the sweetest of tones, will you not come and join us in our pleasant re past '1 We can refit:tab you a little, give your jaded beast some fresh grass, and thereafter yon can proceed *so much more rapidly that you will lose no time by ac cepting our cheer.' Fair maiden, I am charged with a message, and cannot delay—' Nay, but you will arrive full as soon. Do not turn a deaf ear to our appeals, for, as a true knight, then shouldst be ready to hear the wrongs we have- to narrate to thee !' Faith, I will tarry for a few moments, if sa be that you will• excuse my dust.. covered attire. It were a difficult thing for mortal man to resist the invitation of such charming fairies as yourselves !' Flattering knight 1 , if you think thus of oar attractions, what will you say to those of our mistress, this fair lady Edith?' Edith r queried the knight, looking from one to the other of the maidens, as if equally bewildered by his eyes and his thoughts. Dismounting, he led the horse to a pile of newly out grass, indicated to him by one of the girls, and then attended them to their rustic board. The servant, on riding up, and seeing his master thus engaged, lost no time in baiting his own steed, and then threw himself at length on the green sward under the trees, where he lay motionless, while the crusader partook of the dainties spread.-before him, and answered the questions showered upon him by his charming hostesses.. You spoke of your mistress,' said the knight, as he arose — ' is she near?' She is on yonder tower.' The quick eye of Arthur caught a glimpse of a white dress, as the wind blew out its long train from behind one of the raised corners of the old battlements of the tower, but he could not see the face, nor even the figure of the wearer. Yon will certainly go and pay your de voirs, sir knight pleaded one of the girls, with her most bewitching smile. The knight hesitated ; but the mention of the name of Edith had caused him so much curiosity, that he -finally concluded to gratify it, saying to himself : It will require but a moment, and then I will hurry on my way.' 'But you must proceed to the tower alone,' said one of the girls. The ascent is easy and direct ; you cannot miss the way to the spot where our lady is stand ing.' The knight bowed, promising to come back in a moment and take his leave of the girls, and then went to the lower. After some -difficulty, he made hie way to the battlements, but no sign of any woman was seen, and all his search, in the shades of twilight, which had now commenced casting their shadows around him, was fruitless. I am tricked,' he finally muttered. will instantly return and leave this evil spot. Ah, my head ! how it whirls ! and how obscure and thick are my thoughts becoming! Those girls were certainly fa:ries, and they have drugged or poisoned the wine!' He made his way back to the spot where he had left the three maidens ; but a single glance showed him that they were gone with every vestige of their late presence. He then perceived the absence of his horse. Alarmed, he commenced calling his squire. Receiving no answer, he proceeded to the spot where he had seen his squire dismount, and found that his man and the horse he had ridden were also missing. Still, he called till he felt himself confused and half insensible, and then he resolved on proceeding afoot. But everything seemed strange to his vision, and it was not long before his sight grew so indistinct that he did not know where he was going. Finally, he sank down, in a troubled sleep, and slumbered several hours, although it seemed to him but a moment. On recovering his senses, he found that the green award was no longer beneath him, nor the bright sky above him ; he was in a spledidly furnish ed apartment, and lying in a soft and re freshing bed. Where am I?' he murmured, looking around ; his eye speedily rested on an open letter, which lay upon the coverlid within his reach. He instantly seized it, recognizing it as the sealed document with which he had been entrusted by Baron Rodney, and read as follows : To THE COUNT FONTENAY—On receipt of this, by Arthur Templeton, knight, yon will please cause the bearer to be put out of the way, as I am fearful, lest he trouble me in my proposed union with the Lady Edith Brenneth. From your old friend and servant, THE BARON RODNEY P. S.—Can you accommodate me and a few retainers at your castle for the com ing night 1' 6 And so,' soliloquized Arthur, this is the sort of message I was desired to carry to the count. Whoever may be these maidens, they have evidently shown me a great favor in thus preventing me from bearing this letter to its destination.' A soft step beside the bed caused the knight to start and turn his face in that direction. He beheld the object of his long cherished affection, Edith Brenneth, who elapsed him in her arms, and showered repeated kisses on his cheeks and lips. Oh, my Edith !' said the knight. gls it indeed you Yes, dear Arthur,' - and there were tears of joy in her eyes. My maids gave you too much of the drug ; they almost poisoned you ;1 but do you feel better 1' 'Almost well, dearest, and your presence will soon effect a perfect cure. But was it you who laid this little plot to prevent me from falling a victim to Baron Rod ney ' Yes.' But how did you know that the Baron had such a murderous design By my father.' Your father ! And pray, have you_ learned`from the same source that I have won none of those honors and rewards I was led to expect V No, no ; but I have learned from him all your noble and generous deeds—of your bravery and discretion—of those honors you have earned, but which the Baron Rodney has prevented you from receiving !' 'ls it possible that your father is aware of all this r None better. He has faithfully re ported to me all your movements, since the day you left our native village for the holy land." g And how has he been able to gathsir 'all these accounts ?' " THAT COMITST 18 TSB MORT - 008P=01:18 WEILBS LIMOS . 00SIILVID8 TUB SUATIST sinctim.mL-Bufnumer LANCASTER pill'. PA., TUESDAY , MORNING, Ju L '9, 1861. He shall tell you himself.' The door opened, and the cruEader's squire Made his appearance, at the same instant "that sounds of a fierce conibat. were hear proceeding from the neighboring wood. What is that 1' asked Arthur of the squire. 'A fight between the Baran Rodney and Count Fontenay. While your message was retained, I sent a challenge to the Count, which invited him to meet the Baron in deadly conflict. The Count has eagerly complied, and the two forces have just met not far from the tower. I have only to say, that I hope and expect the two wretches will destroy each other 1' The young knight, on arising and pass ing to the window, saw he was within a room in the red tower, whither he had gone to find Edith. Wondering at all he had endured daring the last few hours, he con tinued several moments looking out upon the htrnggle between the Count's retain ers and the crusaders. When he at last turned to his squire for some information, he saw that the stern old Count of Bren neth had taken his place in the room.— Startled and anxious, he cast himself at the nobleman's feet. Arise, my son, and kneel no more, save when we shall all bow together, including your Edith, and worship the true God !' A suspicion suddenly took possession of the young knight's heart—one which caused his face to flush and his form to tremble. Is it possible 2' he cried. Blind that I was, not to see it sooner ! For two years, Count Brenneth, have you attended me as my faithful squire !' True, my son, because I discovered that my Edith was greatly attached to you, and wished to know whether you were worthy or not. Now I am satisfied, and so is your king, who from this time forth makes you the Baron of Templeton.— Not a word, my boy ; salute your beloved, and may you both be happy, and none the less so because your enemies are dead !' He pointed, as he spoke, to several of his servants, who were bringing the dead bodies of the Count Fontenay and the Baron Rodney down the road. The lovers were married the next day, and the Count of Brenneth returned to his own castle, from which he had temporarily fled to avoid the attack of Count Fontenay, who had laid a plot to abduct the Lady Edith. There a happy and' honorable life awaited them all, and the crusader was well satis fied with the result of his temptation, as it had given him the gentle enchantress of the old tower. A Contented Farmer's Wife. Mrs. Content Rogers was a sunny sort of a body, as any one could see by a glance at her front yard and windows.— There was a honeysuckle trained upon each side of the door, a flower border run ning the whole length of the house, where the crocuses and snow-drops hailed the first genial days of spring, and jonquils, pinks, violets, lilies, roses and asters lav ished their blossoms all summer long. The fence was picketed and painted white, indicative of the tidy housewife within. The windows had green blinds ; bat they were kept joyously opened, as if the sun and friends were both heartily welcomed to the best room, where Content Rogers was the presiding genius. I have sometimes thought that these strongly marked traits of character run in the blood, and that a croaker or a jolly woman was quite as much indebted to her constitution as to her training for her peculiar develop ment. Certain it is, that this woman came rightfully by her characteristic hopefulness and contentment. Her maiden name was Goodenough, her father was called Waitstill, and her mother Hope.— The last child,(the twelfth, by the way,) was named Content, as filling the measure of their happiness. Patience, Faith, Hope, Charity and Temperance were cherished female names in the family, that had been handed down for many generations. By a sort of manifest destiny, which seems to be as strongly believed in by the moderns as by the ancients, she had married Con stant Rogers, and settled in this neat white farm house. Content took me for a belated beggar, as I called quite early at the door. 'Poor old man, you look tired and hungry,' said she ; 'come in and breakfast, we are just at the table.' I found Constant Rogers at the morning meal, with a goodly row of children upon each side of the table, of all ages from two to twenty. He had been expecting me, but not quite so early in the day. The whole group was orderly,' for the family was so much given to hospitality that au unexpected guest was no novelty in the household. 'Pray, how do you manage,' said I, 'to support so large a family farming? They say it is a very poor business.' 'Well, my wife can tell you more about that than I can. I keep the farm going out of doors, and she keeps the family go ing in doors. I never find any difficulty in keeping the grain bins and meal chests well filled, and the larder well stored, and somehow there has always been enough to eat and drink ever since we began housekeeping, and that is twenty-two years ago this spring.' 'But who says that farming is a poor business ?' asked Content, with a surprised look, as if she had never taken that view of it. , Why, one of your townswomen by the name of Grimes,' said I. 'Oh. yes, I have seen her; she lives up in the other parish, and I haven't mob acquaintance with her. But I thought the Grimeses were rich and happy. They are sending their sons to cpllege, and their daughters go away to school. Perhaps they feel a little above their business, which always makes things go hard.' 'But don't you find it hard to feed so many mouths, and to keep so many chil dren looking tidy V I asked. 'Well, I am busy most of the time,' said Content, smiling, 'bat I never thought it hard. Ido not snow what we are to live for, if not to make others comfortable and happy. I have alwayi,Tonnd eb many things to be thankful for, that I never found time to fret, at the little worries of life. We named our first child Thankful, and 'somehow a blessing has - seemed to follow us ever since. We have not had to wait till fall -for, a thanksgiving, for we have one about every month in the .. year i Before I got over feeling glad for one thing, I always notice that another. came. 'When the. children were sick, r alwaYe felt - bad - bat they, were never eielc"long _ . and when they got running round again, I forgot the past. They made us a good deal of care when they were small, but they save us a great many more, as we need their . services. It is a great 9omfort, sir, to have good children, and ours are the best in the world. • 'But does farming pay!' 'That depends upon what you mean by paying,' she continued. 'lt pays us abun dantly. We are happy in our work, and have no longing for the pleasures which others enjoy. If a man is only contented, I suppose it makes very little difference whether he has a thousand or a million of dollars. We have a snug, -.comfortable house, all paid for, and our worldly sub stance is increasing every year. I suppose we enjoy it as much as a king does his palace and kingdom. We are able to have a good variety of books and papers for ourselves and children to read, so that we are learning something every day. I sup pose we enjoy them quite as much as if we had nothing else to do bat to read them. Our children are in -a fair way to make useful men and women. The children of the richest men will' not make any thing more, and many of them will fail of this. 'lf our business makes us happy, we think it pays quite as well as any business that does not make those happy who follow it, even though it gives them more money. But farming pays well enough in money, e., in worldly comfort. Our means grow with our wants, and what can any reasonable being ask more 1 The farm has grown larger,the soil deeper and richer, the cattle have increased and grown sleek and handsome, the pile of milk pans is higher ^ and brighter, father says, since Thankful has been ld enough to scour them. The garden is full of fruits and vegetables, and the grain bins are never empty.' I left, fully persuaded that Content Rogers had found the philosopher's stone, if I had not found a farmer's wife.—.fm. ✓?g'riculturist. Thought She " Mi ght be In duced. A MATRIMONIAL SKETCH The fraternity of widows has been large ly drafted upon for material to point morals and adorn tales and stories. The story I am about to relate happened—or perhaps did not happen—and was a standard joke with a famous wag so many years ago that it can do no harm now to relate it in print, as he often did in the social circle, some what in thi—wise : A relative of Daniel Webster, whom we will eall Col. Webster, had the misfortune to lose his wife, lb whom he was tenderly attached. Ho was a man charraotericead by much of the coolness, wit and shrewdness of the family. Time gradually soothed his grief, and finally he felt sufficiently lonely to desire the companionship of a wife once nore. In the course of a conversation on the subject Daniel suggested that the widow of a near friend of the colonel would suit his ease very satisfactorily, and ad vised him to make a move in that direction. The colonel pondered over the matter and came to a favorable conclusion. He was not acquainted with the lady, and, indeed, had never seen her, but the choice of so excellent a man as his friend, he felt persuaded, must be a worthy one for him. Accordingly, urged by Daniel, he made an early start to visit the widow and propose his suit; Arrived at her house, whioh was in a New Hampshire village, he apologized for any seeming freedom on his part, in calling, and pleaded, in excuse, his intima cy with her deceased lord. He was gra— ciously received, and invited to remain.— A view of the dame and an evening spent with her did not prove as propitious as his hopes had led him to expect. The good lady was full of her admiration and tender memories of her deceased husband, in whom her heart seemed still wrapped up.. In her praises of the dead the colonel cor dially joined, but he _felt an awkward disinclination to take to his bosom.tc wife whose love was so ardently and warmly devoted to the memory of a predecessor. However, the colonel was a matter-of fact man, and having come upon special business, he concluded to accomplish it, , and take the hazards. Accordingly about the time for retiring, he opened his subject, and stated the purpose of his visit, and his belief that they could increase their mutual happiness by filling for each other the places of their deceased partners. Hereupon the widow burst into a vio lent weeping—was surprised he had dared to do such a thing—could never love another man—would never wed again, never—would consecrate all her life to the dear loved one, so cruelly torn from her arms, and now in the cold, cold grave— and so on, in—shall I say it 'fr.-widow fashion. The poor colonel, grieved and astonish ed, though not altogether dissatisfied, apologized earnestly. He was lonely, and felt the need of a companion—had cherish ed the friendship of her husband, who was an intimate friend—had thought , their union might lib mutually desirable and beneficial, and.made quite a lengthy speech in self-vindication and to soothe the dis turbed feelings of the unhappy lady—and finally she dried her tears and ceased her lamentations, and the scene was closed by the colonel retiring to . bed. In the morning the widow had recover ed her peace of mind, and was allatten tion, graciousness, and smiles to the good colonel. He bore.himself with the amen ity of. a courtly gentleman, and as soon as breakfast was ended, prepared to start.— The widow seemed in a mighty flurry, and urged a stay to dinner, but the colonel felt obliged to be on the move homeward. At last he was at the door, and offered his hand for a parting pressure. The widow clasped it, held it fora _ moment, trembled, blushed, turned aside her head, and,gen tly mnrmered • colonel, I have been thinking of —of—of--of what you said, 7 -I—l think I might be induced.' The colonel gave her a half quizzical, half serious look, and replying with 'Good morning madam,' entered his chaise, and left for home an instructed man... I:0 An old bachelor being ill, his sister presented him a" cup. of medicine': 'What is it he asked. She answered•L— -'lt is elixir asthmatic, it is very &MARA.: tio, and will make you feeLeostatio.! 'Nanny,' lie replied; i;forith, a smile .'dos ,are very sisterinatie.rl (.1-1 THE VOLUNTEER'S FAREWELL. • BY WILLLLY T. , MIGIUHART. The reveille is sounding, love, It calls me from thine arms; It bid s me leave my peaceful home, To share In war's alarms.. Yet though thy check be pale, dear love, • And pearly tear-drops fall,— I know thou would'at not have me stay, Nor shrink from Duty's call. Then once more fare thee well, my love! Nay, cheek those falli , g tears! On outgood swords this day depends The hopes of future years— On kleav'n we'll rest our confidence— Whir biased our early love; And faithful !hall our hearts remain— Fix'd aa the stars above. If in the conflict falling, - love, A blessing will descend Upon the grave of him who Ales .His country to defend. Though thou bewail my low, dear love, • One joy is surely thine, Which shall assuage thy.piesent grief, And aolaoe life's decline. For long as summer's pleasant gales Ripple the sea's blue wave, A nation's love shall hallow The humblest patriot'S grave; And dear to every faithful heart - Our flames shall ever be, While floats beneath the vault of Heav'n The banner of the free. No longer can I linger, love ! Oar flag is now unfurl'd; , Upon its course is fixed this day The gase of all the world; Oar country's name and thine, dear love, My battle cry shall be, And long as life will I remain Faithful to it and thee! [New York Atlas A Modem Blue-Beard. We give to-day—from the Petit Courier des Dames, of the 15th of November— one of the most extraordinary accounts of the manner in which a fond husband con trived in Paris, to amuse himself with his wives—for he tickled two to death—that has ever falleh under our notice. Those who have had the experiment of tickling their feet tried upon them, can easily im agine the refinement of that torture which a person must endure, when so bound as to be unable to resist. What pleasure the demon could have taken in the extafic ago nies of a lovely woman, no human mind can fancy ; but that he did revel in them the narrative renders but too certain : EFFECTS OF TICKLING Mrs. de L— mixed much with the fash ionable world last winter, accompanied by her -daughter Emily. Young and hand some, the latter was the object of general attention. Although without fortune, she received many advantageous proposals for her hand—but as her heart remained un affected, she selected from the crowd of her admirers Mr. de Y—. He was about forty, rich, and respected—he adored her and would thus make her happy. Emily made a confidante of bar inother,who could not avoid expressing her surprise at the selection. Mr. de V-- had already lost two wives—there was a desparity in their ages, and she felt an invincible repugnance for which she could not account, to the uaion. Emily thought so good an oppor tunity of securing a rich establishment Might not again present itself; her mother yielded, and she was married to Mr. de V—. Some . months . after, Emily's brother urged her frankly to confess to him, whether she had realized the happiness which she had anticipated from the union. 61 have, indeed' said she 'my husband anticipates my every wish, and would ren der me fully happy, but for a singular re quest which he has made, and which, as I cannot understand the object, troubles me.' 'lt must be very serious, ' said Edward. 'Oh, no, it is very sily,' replied his sheer ; 'you would never imagine what.— Only think of a request, to bind myself with linen bandages—in a word to be a living copy of an Egyptian mammy.' So extraordinary a caprice surprised Edward full as much as it had his sister. His curiosity was too strongly excited to be spent in imaginings, and he urged his sister to yield, but with the condition'that he should, unknown to the husband, be stationed during the operation in an ad joining room. Thus placed, his sister informed her 'husband that she had deter mined to yield to his request. Wild with joy at this information, the husband found not words to express his gratification, yet promptly commenced his operations. Edward listened attentively. Profound silence reigned for some minutes in the room ; his sister broke it by saying in a trembling tone, 'And the arms too He involuntarily trembled, as if they were to be the last words of his sister. 'Yes, my dear" replied the husband gaily, 'I beg you—head and feet only free ,; just like a mummy, you know.' All, was again quiet. The silence lasted so long as again to frighten Edward,- and he was upon the point of entering the room, when his sister commenced laughing immoderately. He felt assured and lis tened. Emily stopped and all was again silent. Again she laughed, and more immoderately than before, and again all was silent. This tomb-like repose, broken by loud and immoderate laughter and suc ceeding the silence, was alarming—he knew not what to think of it, and burst into the room. At his appearance Mr. de V. fled, and Edward found his unfortunate sister stretched on the floor, cold . and inanimate. Her husband had bound her, that he might freely tickle her feet. An other fit of laughing, and Emily would have followed the two other wives of Mr. de V. The best attendance has but recalled her to existence a perfect idiot—the ner vous system being entirely destroyed.— This adventure, known to. all_ Paris for some days, is too well pToved ,to be doubt ed. We suppreii thu names, solely out of regard io a highly iespeoted. [L' 'Mr. - Sinith.jon !aid you once offieia ted in a pulpit ; do: yon mean tiiatl - you preaehedl- • • • 'No sir; I held the light for .the map tht did.' - . cAh! the court understood yon different ly. They. auppoaed thut,.. the discourse name from you.'. 'Me ! I only , throwitt a little lighi upon it. 'No, levity, Mr:Smith. Crier wipe irogi nose - and call iho'next ' 07r4 Mn- Smith; you' saidlyoteboarfled* . the Ucilumbie.Hotel- tiz foot tNo'sirriiittlfttiltionitgid4o thells IP,r• #ingr-titeltaloor-44 . 41.44'1. , Vabitifirdtitittitti6ttlidt:lthto ; r,•;-z -f.4, -7: zkv, , f1.3 . 7. ", ; - . A BRACE OP Ittf.STAiDVi It is not every,cue:of &mink and 1:410- tery that has so fortunate a termination as that of —.versus—, which came eff on the curbstone a few days aince r aii,drivis very near being made the subject of,a'pro traded lawsuit. Within the last three months, an old mouser whose physiognomy has been for many years familiar in public places, indlispeoially at the theatres, where he is 80 well known that the doorkeepers mistake him for - an 'editor and pass him in free;-4ell desperately in love with a sparkling eye and - handsome waist at Ma guire's. By perseverance- our chevalier soon became acquainted with the object of his sudden flame, who was, the daughter of a. well-known politician, then_ absent, at g Sacramento - said politician bei especial- ly factious for his fighting qualities and for his high Soathein notions of fluidly 'holler:. A couple of months hiving iiassed,'dirr ing which the Major had hicome a constant visitor, each visit having only riveted more firmly the bonds in which he was held, that adventurous person began to . consider in what manner it was best to open , his batter" ies, with a view to making a similar, im pression upon his enchantress. His first offering was a tioquet, but not being posted in the language of flowers, he got the thing, all wrong_ to start with, and instead of ' a symbolical letter full of explanations of his passiori, mariaged by' careless selection to present the lady with a floral offering conveying sentiments anything but oompli mentary to the recipient. He next 'tried the literary line, and sent her a handsome bound' volume, which proved on inspection to be one of Peter Parley's familiar stories for children, and the_ Major somehow or other saddled himself after, that Awith the name of 'Peter.' But love is blind, and in this case the victim fully carried out the adage. At last he resolved upon a vigor ous assault, such as no citadel , could with stand ; and 'accordingly proceeding to a , bird fancier's, he there selected a costly songsten, which he duly labeled and caused to be conveyed with a note to the residence of his adored. At the same time the Ma jor observed a naturalist who appeared to be as much interested in the study of or nithology as himself, but he gave the sub ject no attention, little thinking to what , results the renoontre would lead,until sub sequent events brought the matter rather forcibly to mind. The same evening the Major dressed himself in his best ; he was 'gorgeously arrayed' in the choicest of Parisian clothing and was a perambulating casket of rare perfumes and cosmetics. His glass told him he was irresistible, and so he was—for a good, hearty laugh. The Major rang the bell and was invi ted in. He found his charmer alone in the parlor, but was somewhat chilled with his reception. He had resolved, however, upon breaking the ice, and accordingly began his important disclosure at once, without even the customary allusion to the weather. Without opening her lips the lady re treated to a rear apartment, from which she soon emerged bearing a cage, over which was hastily thrown a handkerchief. The Major's heart throbbed convulsively in his bosom. It was the critical moment of his life. In another moment he should be on his knees before her—in another moment she should be enfolded in his em brace. Sir,' said the lady, with more severity than the Major had anticipate d—(she was evidently disguising her feelings)-- , I be lieve I am indebted to you for the gift of a valuable bird.' My dear Miss !' gasped the Major —' I beg you wouldn't mention it.' Accompanied,' continued the lady, 'by a note.' I plead guilty,' faltered the Major, bashfully. Let me make sure that I am, right, before proceeding further.' And the lady proceeded to read from the note as fol lows :—' 0, most adorable and fragrant of created beings— The Major sighed and made a convul sive movement as if about to throw himself - at her feet. —' Whose aggregate charms even the angels might envy—' , The Major gasped and sighed again. —' Behold in this accompanying gift a reflection of your charms. •-- Your' 'eyes, your voice, are here but feebly Imitated. Accept the gift, arid reward, if you will, the donorl , , The Major_got ready for his. reward..---, g And this note you isonfeas to be yours.' Of couree,'. replied the Major, a little . taken aback by the tone in -which the in quiry wauconveyed. g And the present likewise V Of course.' Wretch !' cried the lady, at tho same time removing, the handkerchief, and dis closing—not a canary, but spar-at ! , ThehMajor started to his leek, but be fore he had reached the , sidewalk, - the old politician, issuing from his fair in the back parlor, was after him with a Gaga; And then and there occurred's struggle which outdid the famous personal conflicts of the days of Homer—s conflict from which the Major narrowly escaped with his life. All the result of s trifling mistake ; the bird fancier had sent the purchase of. the naturalist instead of that selected by • the Major.—California ,Mirror, • [lam t o grass !' said a mother,to her daughter. , 'Well, then, I 'spo' se I'll have to Iparryt' ejaculated the fair damsel. 'Who so V inquired, mother... _ 6.l3euntnie all men are: grans.' The. uld. iadY.8 1 4 14 7. 3 4% . • - ; The man, everybody-likes is genet4: ally a fool.. , jheps who:nobody likes it generally a;',• - ki 7 ne.""-Th`e ;Mao friends who would die" for him, . fish who would love to see ihnliroihitiiiiie t is usually' &ilia' ottiOnie"*OilVA#crfoicef. A arum on Forktdw~i , apring,•ifielffroWilitininkiir Wa?,-is now in the of:viol:for 419uW11.401-I*PAW.P9-413-4";:Tilkii;:-: ;T Tr SS r1.4045.,1,1TFAL13 „ TAtrad - tataaffeteXtpeeneer the uoVieF atom being &Led, aitidare late front Won: yealawdt idaidttiatAxittfait Auld ihitaaa.i .t To , La bad at ALL LADVIVaII& And sent free Cent,ellrietattei 'the W oW e rtIVVI r tA. I , I *.N .94 1 711"Mking . , . .' ....Z.41104F - IttlifidAorinistattasababkilid . trada - f;:. T;'_rt.:4) . lll:a r.-. :;zl. 3- , •Is/ 1, U 3 nO::i 'il rum LRIECASTJEWINTEILLIGIZNCEIR. JOB PRINTMI No. 8 NORTH DORI maim : LANCASTER, PA. • - The Jobbing Detortnient is.thorotiglitY B ifilhihed with nen'• and elegant type otAnery datioriptlen, and L under the charge of a practical and experlandeof Job Printer,- The Propriebna are prepanal to PRINT OHM= ' • NM*, 'LEGAL •BLANES, • . - . CARDS AND 01114HILABB, BILL RHOS-AN) HANDBILLS, • PROGRAMMES, ANE !OWE* PAPER BOORS AND PAMPHLETS.: -• . BALL .TICKSTB AND ;ThintilriONN, PRIMING m °owns AND:PLAIN RIUNTiNN, ' ^with neatness, accuracy and dispatch, on thomoctrocconi.... ble terms , and in a manner not .excellid_by_any notahliph,, Mont in the city. • - • - - .ffir Orden from a dirtancni by ...nudi others/«, promptly attended to. • e Addrou NUL 18ANDIRSON t a w m • Interna** No. 8 North Data stroot,, p a mLine**. ORME AND CATTLE POWF9IIIB. - FATFEBBAL'SIIOIIB2POWDEtB,, HEAVE POWDER, iBNIDIGREEK 21 rIXEUA Gzu minx A~ TART OOPPIRAB; • For sale at TIOMADELLMAIMEND - fol. 9 Drag Obairdeal Otani Waatittag straatilaiter.-.= tt S PEa,DI . )I)...TvX7O;-, p.7.:;',1 • Offer every E possible inducement to _ OA SH - BUY RS GT - DRY GOODS -- . ,, Determined to reduce their timer, they girt - GOOD BARGAINS; BEAUTIFUL FANO!' : At 33, 50, 75. worth do - obis the mono". GRENEDINE AND BERMS GOODS, •-• About one-half their Talus. Every ..eariety and style. of SPRING AND SUMMER DRESS GOODS, ' SHAWLS, SILK AND OLOTH CLOAKS AND MANTL/14„ FRENCH LACE MANTLES, Points, Shawls, Borneus, &apnea, Stench and OhentiGla :ri Lace Goods in ereryatyle—without regard to met _ 6-4 and 8-4 Super Black MERINO 'AND DELAINE:ttre , • •.1 Shawls. SUN UMBRELLAS AND 'PARASOLS: i LAIIOI BLOCK 07/ - _ MEN'S AND BOYS' . 'WEAR, IT Elan THAN luinnkraui's , A, great sacrifice of BEREGE S. A D Which are closing out,at 12% cent) - one hen pyloor (Rest bargains In COLLARS and - 13LIETES'front Auction.' 4 WENTZ , aaoFt, - - Rut. King arid °otitis Slaps. _ 'June 18 2t 23] EW . SPRING. MILLINERY GOODS N The subscriber has het:returned . atid New York, with a complete and well seleets4 ettioltic SPRING AND SUMMER MILLINERY GOODS, - ',Matt he" - Mimi to - the pahlieloigenetai, at w,holemla and. retall,for the lowest cash prices. My stock tionsista in 'SW of all colors, Crapes; Lasitis;'/Mnilaei Modea:.Tailton. Lining, Capenett, Jesnblond, Quilling', French and Amerl. can Flowers, Silklace, Edging, Strawgimp,Rib•q6.: - bone of the newest.style,..Wits...Denoet-Framcs, Bonnet-Blocks, Straw.Dotinete, Hats and Shakers of all colors, and the neerestatyleindshipii net materials, and Trimmings of all. kindis_Jeweirn, Notions, Dry Goods, Mid n great many articles too unmet , one to m talon. Alm, TRISH&D .AND 'READY MAD*;-. BONEETS all the time an hand of the very latest Isahhia, - which he offers cheaper thm the cheapest. •••-, • 1 The subscriber is.thankful for past favors, and hopes a continuance of all hie old customers and plenty More new ' ones. L. BAUM, • . LIFE .OR DEILTH..+Tbe.. subsaiikbakiat , take pleasure in announcing that they are now pr 0.. : ., pared to' mail (free) tetbose who wish it ; a-copy of an portant little work, by the .late Dr. Haupt?. entithell - • TEM INVALID'S MEDICAL CONFIDANT ; ' published "- for the benefit, and as a warning to young men and per-r -771 eons who suffer from Nervous Debility, Premature Decay, Lc., Sc,supplying the means of self cure. The reader to Irresistibly led to compare a useful life with an ignoble death. Reader,4Ose not a moment, but send yonr: addruk for: a copy of this little work. address the Publishers. DR. JOHN B. 010101 & 00., 64 and 66 John St., New York. apr . 3o 3m 16] 11. LO ANS AND MANTILLAS. 1,./ every novelty of the season. The richest materials, the best work, and prices lower than ever. IRgNS, No. 23 South 9th Street, Philadelphia.. OITY OL'OAB STORM, No. 142 South Bth Street, Philadelphia Cloth Cloahs,.in endleu variety ; Silk Oloake. and Man tillas in every quelity, style and cost, at prices that alutble, us to defy competition. FASHIONABLE CLO.&B•l3'. If yon want style and quality,- go to the Paris Mantilla Store, N. E. Corner Eighth and Walnut Shay Philadelphia. SPLENEID SILK MANTLES. The largest and moat faaldonable StOok In the iffy. N. LCorner Eighth and Walnut CLOAKS I CLOAKS! I OLOAI/81 I • " Elegant New Store. Magnificent Goode, No. 29 South 9th, Street, third door below may 21 Philadelphia. am 19, NGORP ORA TE D I 5 1.0: •• HARTFORD FIRE INSURANCE COMPANY, OF :HARTFORD, CONN. CAPITAL AND ASSETS 8984,7'09-00. ' H. HUNTINGTON, President. P. C. ALLTN, Secretary. Policies leaned and renewed; losses equitably adjusted and paid immediately upon - eatiefactorrprook in, New York funds, by the undersigned, the DULY AUTHORIZED AGENT. JAMES /MACE,' oct 213 1y 411 Agent for Lancaster Co. SIGN OF THE RED COAT I PALL AND WINTEDI. ODOTEIING °HEARER THAN EVER. I H . W . R B , TAIL:OE:AND OLOTRI,EIt, No.B NORTH QtfeiN Sc., LAtinurrim. SIMON W.' BALM calls the:attentiffn of the citizens of Lancaster county and city to his large and well selected. stock of Piece Goods and Beady Made Fall and Winter , Clothing, the largest and best assorted in the city ofLanr. r), caster. S. W. Haub would - call particular" Attention to his s t oc k of Beady mad Clothing-of him ania :Mitnufacturis,./E.:t all warranted to be .weil, cowed an; fipountdeed entire satisfaction: . • • .. OVERCOATBefrom• . $3.60 to $12.00 • BLACK BROCK *COATS, front . • -'4.00' - 14.00' BUSINESS COATS,.. " : SAO .. 10.00 MONK BY GOATS• " 2.00' " 6.00" " BLACK PANTS; ' 2.60-,". 6.00;, : FANCY Cam., PANTS, “ 1.60 " 4.60 VESTS, all prices. 76 ' 140 ; • Boy's and Youth 's Clothing at aB Pricer, and WarranGd . • • Also, on bond 4 large andapiendid assortment of French- English and Ainerican 'Cloths, Over Coatings and ".Carl mares, and Yeatings, which will be - made up it 'licit notice and low prices, cut and made in the latest style, and warranted to give satisfaction in • , , QUALITY, MAKE AND FIT. ' Also on band, a large assortment 'of Gentlemen's PIER,' nishing Goods, consisting of Collars, Shirts, Neck Ties, Suspenders. /se., Ao. -Gentlemen buying their.owa.goods eau have it made up in a fashionable style, at the lowest possible prices, , LT Gentlemen are invited to oalland-ramminaletbra Slur Jileimonper Bign,Q/.t6e No. 8 Northland= st; Lottodattr; • • oet-1.8 tt 40] c:111.0IILAR.1 • JrNEW DEMOCRATIC WiIeNING"PrAP,IIIi: " r Er E - _ ,- • • :With si view 'to meet a universalljAdabithlat %dieser the. , undersigned will issue on Monday the let at rinly•pentra -Morning Penny Piper, tebercalleill-" - TEB , TFNION.• The, great Winton of,the. Democratic, Peity,. which hay , ever stood ',the bblitark'of the - Wen and the Champion' ' of the„Cdnetitittienr lenders itsfentini unity sind,bold t u d e , In tilie,tiour:p( plational podia mutter of vital Ann cern. The iiiindingstniggie is not law kethe matetenanee..- pf a United Country than for the Perpetuation,ofrDeten , eratle es expounded by tefferiolintid•Jeakabis.:-..'" The moat momentous recaps bang upon the party . question* are for ths lime by co:onion' Consent 'Ad.' Journed: Theleot is dend:ecre initcleseente gf szp***•;:l7 : The Dernoeratic poets bare not 'shrunk from their fall Aurelio the responlibilit,his anti dangers tithe assergentfili , .. They have rallied with Ontiaftaryi around the standard of our common country.Mit- the occasion &ides: • The •Govenpnent ;will. demand ,and . WAYS • Willing support of every 'patriot. fn lie *frond to vindicate' the Netionei brink and' renown the , National whither*, •3 but the Preservation, Of OonititnUonell,lberty nets more with the people than with Congress andCabinste-Vgliencei,. - , and Unity are therefore - spookily requisite In the present Andrus. - It is . the purpose ot the .YrOhlokclii to make "'jai UNION," in every reaped a captains Jamul- 'Ube-. Democracy of the whiclogata feel the need or it'borit swat vigorous Metropolitan daily; and no effortmillt.bwqmariaTc to render "THU UNION" - both 'popular ind'.ir&s dept as a newspaper i std; ascOiftal ceard•Mst ar,tbildkallf.l principles for which the Democratic party' taw ever;„, tended, and which are now ao iidkaPPNY The proprietors has perfooted'iciteltda , will - place the iteittbriif*fron4 thibegindtheitai daub- , '- IDIDDa Maslow hasis,.with isimoutesa, Modagific cm** 1 .1 Newspaperaeoad interestati& Milt-addlakdis aka Patata_lakUkikokalialloaltlet-ittr..a will eirmay avoid ail mime; rr.wide deaditat lane Pi aIook e =DRINCIODITTO 111811118 for suploat.a4 shall labor to make "THII UNION” in every way asefirtg. thafammitholatilittithefaPatMarbataahmbigeadable and fearless Journal. TIDIMI3:—Per Annuii.Moisrpida-Sarrimipy . , - the astonished J9*.ipAN laws nispittiffla r- 4 q4 " ,:i./ . 472! ' 87.tr0 1 ir!„, o„`o,a .oouippifii Banding: Walnut/MI6 & corner or Your . dr at Joint Stock Bates, liCsbolit I Of: ni;,l4B4'ar' r , t 4 Totsl_42enetaltiliKs - 1310.1QwestAWInik. • - - 41. Watumue, Midden street, hint Obi Ls cu fi•sorAtlricin or: Istinsitia-,Amvi):DarLy1 stinsitia-,Amvi):DarLy , o b ri .:, , - -, 1 - the - Tule of 'ail Volunteers and Militia, inailek - A-.,: m . ratted. tend adapted -to the diet l ine . of the Maier WM pnatantday,: by ems to ..... - • -- At J.K.WEISTII4II? ' -amyl& a urp 4 :11b:“,"1:16inee If:Mialiiit, AVT iribst mimic ;?A—kliopirLf o 4-4sTer , "9 l w,bt AWilfflitktitita" iusti t ted, ana outs 4Gqtitr—-cotr.oam„ . ________ ost—Lepk voLvmintaureVfafirft7W4ig=FaWrklliii Andamentwohvillase - • sa. • i :. • : 4 . 1 7 4 `5 0-4 : • r-- .L.N14; WSNTZ•B:SOB No.Bl North Queen etreisi, L;ricZie'r,l%. • Bcd 10 ••••r-.. tt
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers