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`VOL. LXII.
HE LANCASTER,INTELLIGENCER,
• . •
PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY, AT !to:8 NORTH DUBE STEM S
BY GEO. SANDERSON:
EEICEEI
niscamiotr.—Two Dollars per annum, payable In ad
vance. No subscription discontinned untflallarrear
ages are paid „unless at the option of the. Editor..
Anvitanssusars.—Advertisements, not exceeding one
sonars, (I2lines,) will be inserted three times. for one
dollar, and twenty-live cents for each additlonallniser
tinn. Those of greater length in proportion.
•
3013 Parwriso—Such as Hand Tillls, Posters, Pamphlets,
Blanks, Label; do., executed with accuracy and on
shortest notice.
THE SENTRY.
Young Sentry, pacing to and fro,
. A novice in the task I know,
Thus back and forth and back again,
In sun and moonlight and in rain,
Hour after hour—methinks to thee
They must pass slow and wearily.
What aching limbs and drooping eyes
Are hidden 'neath that soldier guise;
Yet must those eyes refuse to close,
Those weary. limbs to seek repose.
i
Poor boy ! he knows his life s lost
Were he found nodding at his post.
Yet late it was his wont to sleep
Through hours be now a watch most keep.
Could he indeed have dreamed away
The time from close to break of day,
To him thus pacing to and fm, 4
An hour must seem a night, I know.
Perchance the sun with strengthening heat
May parch his brow and burn his feet;
It matters not ! he must not show
Fatigue, thus pacing to and fro,
With musket on his shoulder borne,
And form erect, however worn.
Yet who the Sentry's thoughts can read?
A soldier's life is hard indeed '
•
Perchance at heart a wayward boy,
And reared life only to enjoy;, -
Now first to value home he learns,
As for its kindly scenes he yearns.
If so, although perchance severe
The duties that he now must share,
The lesson may not be in vain,
Should be to home return again;
And in the quiet hours there spent,
He may be happy and content.
Perchance beneath that midnight sky
Ho oft may breathe a weary sigh, 1
And eagerly shall strain his oar
The striking of the clock to hear;
When e'en the echo of his tread
Seems but the step of one to dread :
When all the world seems hushed in sleep,
And he alone this watch must keep,
Still often the sentry may
The beauty of the night survey,
With different feelings far from those
With which it was his wont to close
His curtains for a night's repose.
And he amid the-stars may see
Calm angel eyes smile lovingly,—
Byes that were long since closed to him,
And e'en may be to memory dim.
Thus when that midnight watch may lead
To sweet communion with the dead.
Or he may think of that bright star
Which led the wise men from afar,
When shepherds watched their flocks, and when
The angels sang "good will to men,"
"Peace on the earth '2—sweet peace now lost,
War calls the Sentry to his post.
Alas! that youthful heart can ne'er
Ask for the strife that hovers near,
But rather wish the angel strain
Might as of old be heard again;
The wise man might rise up once more,
And peace to all the land restore.
God grant the Sentry may not know
A lesson far more stern than now;
That his young eyes may never see
Dark scenes of death and butchery ;
That his bright bayonet wear no stain,
But in its sheath may rest again.
Young Sentry, pacing to and fro,
A novice in the. task I know ;
Thus back and 'forth and brick again,
In sun, in moonlight, and in rain,
Hour after hour—methinks to thee
They must pass slow and wearily.
THE UNKNOWN CHAMPION.
The front door of Lysle Hall shut so
heavily that it shook the house, startling a
young girl and boy, who sat in the deep
embrasure of a window, apparently wait
ing for something or some person. The
young girl was dark-haired, dark-eyed, ex
tremely pretty, though her lips curled .too
haughtily, and an imperious glance shot
from her large, dark eyes which told of a
proud spirit. The boy was pale, and
golden-haired ; wholly unlike his com
panion and sister in feature, though his
pale thin lips had the same haughty curl,
and his blue eyes grew dark with pride ;
a poor thing was Alfred Lysle—his right
arm and leg being withered—had been so
from his birth. He was gentle, affection
ate, high-spirited and talented, the idol of
his widowed father and proud sister.—
There were times when the spirit chaffed,
and he almost cursed the poor maimed
body which was such a clog to him.
Alfred read aloud while his sister Agnes
busied herself with a piece of embroidery,
giving, if the truth be told, a very divided
attention to the words of her brother.
Was not that a glorious description V
asked the boy, his face all glowing with
poetical enthusiasm.
'.Yes; I think I never heard a cataract
described more beautifully.'
Why, Aggie ! got along past the catar
act and reached the meadow !'
'' Oh ! have you dear ? Well, Alfred, to
tell you the honest truth, I got to thinking
of something else. Be so kind as to read
it over again, and this time I will surely
listen to you.'
- The boy laughed gayly as be answered :
No use, Aggie ; your. wits would be
wool gathering again before I had read.
three lines. I will not torment you any
longer. Shall I talk to you instead—or
would you rather be silent V
Talk, if you please, Alfred.'
What think you, sister Agnes, will be
the result of this conference V asked the
boy in a low tone.
The girl raised her troubled face and
answered, very slowly :
'lndeed, Alfred, 1 scarcely dare think.
The Dudleys are not famed for their gen
erosity, and —'
Bang ! Bang ! It was the hall door
closing so heavily that it stopped her words
and caused both the young persons to t start.
Gone at last !' exclaimed Agnes.—
And she rose to her feet just as the door
of the room where they were sitting open
ed, and an old gentleman entered.
' What now, father ? I thought Morti
mer Dudley would never go. How is it
settled ?
The matter stands just where it did
before. He will not abate one inch of
ground, nor will 1. He thinks his claim
as good as mine, and day after to-morrow
we meet on the debatable ground, and
With sturdy lances settle the question.'
Good, father ! I feared you might be
compelled to yield, and I couldn't bear to
think that in old age you would be obliged
to give up your home and go among
strangers. The case has been carried
from court to court, and years have passed
Sway in futile waiting; now, a well di
rected blow, and the proud Earl of Dudley
will be overthrown. Aye, charge at him,
father, and may God and St. Mary guide
your weapon so that you may come off
conqueror.' •
The father smiled and patted the gleiv
ing cheek of his pretty, spirited daughter,
then..seated himself beside his son and
read with him.
Sir Henry Lysle was about fifty-five,
handsome and high spirited; an uprigls,
honorable and kind father. For two geti-
I_ - :,._i•J‘z.:.. , .,:t --
,
erationni• between the houses` of Dndley Yotnitelfin armor readY to accom-
And.Lysie, there had'been:a:long standing! pany the young knight.
.quarrel concerning some property, two7.fr: f Tcrukt.bidding shall
thioa including the hulidingi Pf_the"Lyale'-; ; o •And - Arneld, your:nhould: oung knight
estate, The= dispute had been - carried , Jlaok:aught in riding, :or in handling--the -
from court to conr•k•Withnnt : any deoision; /anceolireot hint im:you did. toy father:::
in favor of either party. -Lately,:Robert, Agnes turned and walked quietly te.the
Earl 'of Dndley; had' died,,and his sin, a ,f,house wbglly nncogseious of the curious
daehing, man: of twenty-Ave, had tared:of L gaze that followed her, Oid.,:.,4.rnold,looked:
the old time- Inarrel, proposed -to. settle I, after her with wistful oyos, -, then-murmared:
t he; debate. ,bysingle.c.pinhat to . be- hold '-aloud p . •,. • : • • _
the debatable territorr—then, in the four-: Proud step, like-her-father; yet 'light:
teenth century, a very common; method of as fairy." =Where ha s :shtYfound cham
settlitkg.dispnteil.. ..Thu s the matter stood , pion has' been 'Vidden smartly
and -with' . conversation, reading the I see by her reeking flanks . and lieaving.
three passed the eveni ng, .sides. It,can't he that,igastor Alfred is
After Alfred had retired, Agnes lingered" going -to . try—that would -_be - madness,
behind seeming averse: to leave her father.' though I know he is equal•in, spirit to
Sir llenry noticed her hesitation and-put- .poor fellow—no, no—;-that•lsen't be; for his
ting his arm around her • - wahEiti, and strok- arm is neither steady nor stinng., '
ing her_dark curling. hair, said .earnently : think.' - •
_ _ .
• IDay after; to-naorrow, AgneS; rshah
mount my good steed, and' battle for my
rights and our home. If I fall, as fall I
may, we are ,'homeless; Should anything
- happen to prevent me from. engaging in
this, conflict—' •
i • But nothing can happen to prevent
yinti father, eagerly interrupted Agnes.
"Nothing but sadden illness.or death,
my - dear child.'
Oh 2 father !'
We must look at possibilities, my dear
child, and I trust you do not
_shrink. If,
88 I say, anything shall prevent me from
fighting my: fight, .1 . • know not what-you-
will' do. Alittle money :I have;; you will
find it in the ebony , cabinet beside my bed.
With that you must go with your brother
to our relations beyond the border. Never
mind, 'my child, I feel that you tremble.--
Well only look on the bright side ; and
now good night.'
Thus they parted with one fond embrace.
As Agnes ascended rp her chamber, her
heart was heavy with presentiment of com
ing evil. .About midnight Agnes was
aroused from a deep though troubled slum
ber. It was Margery, the old, nurse.
Oh ! dear, Miss Agnes ! Get up--
walte as quick as you can, for you are
wanted.'
'There was trouble and despair in the
old woman's voioe, and Agnes sprang from
her bed and began to dress as hastily as
possible, while she eagerly questioned
Margery.
What is the matter, Margery
Sir Henry s your father, is ill—taken
very suddenly.'
With what V
Oh ! dear, Miss, I don't know ! James,
who always sleeps in the next room, beard
a kind of groaning, and rushing in, found
my dear master-in some kind of a fit.'
Oh ! merciful heaven ! spare my father
to me !' exclaimed the trembling Agnes,
as, throwing a shawl over her shoulders,
she flew rather than ran down stairs. At
the door of her father's room, she paused
and turned to Margery, who had followed
as closely as she could. -
Has any one gone for the doctor !'
Yes, James went as soon as I could go
to master.'
Agnes entered the dimly lighted cham
ber, and approached the bed where her
father lay, so white and motionless, while
the frightened servants stood around
mutely. Sir Henry Lysle was a good,
kind master, and the servants were de
voted to him. Summoning all her courage,
Agnes neared the bed. At the first sight
she trembled, for she thought her father
was dead: Bending over him, she laid her
hand upon his heart, and was rejoiced to
find that it pulsated still—though very
faintly. Ignorant of what to do, Agnes
bathed her father's face, and was in deep
despair at the failure of her efforts, when
the physician entered. Dr. Thompson
found it to be a paralytic stroke, and pro
ceeded to bleed the patient. Soon Sir
Henry opened his eyes, and seemed con
scious of all that was going on. He en
deavored to speak, but that being impossi-
Kea paper and pencil were brought him.—
In large, irregular characters he scrawled :
Doctor, will I be well enough to go
out to-morrow"?'.
With wistful eyes he watched the phy
sician as he deciphered the characters,
and his face expressed the bitterest despair.
Dr. Thompson shook his head.
Again he wrote :
I cannot meet Mortimer Dudley, and
we are lost, Agnes'
Agnes read the irregular writing, so
infferent from the usual firm, clear words
and she could scarcely repress the tears;
but bravely' Muslering her feelings, she
said, bending over the stricken man :
Can you hear and understand what I
say, father V
A faint nod was'the answer.
" Then rest in peace, dear father, for a
champion will be found, who will strive as
manfully as you—and God grant that he
may be as brave and faithful.
A smile of contentment passed over the
sick man's faee, and he calmly closed his
eyes. Too ill to question or doubt, he
believed his daughter's words.
Towards the close of that day, Agnes
returned from a short and rapid ride, and
sought in the stable for old Arnold, her
father's trusty esquire. The old man
turned as he heard the clatter of the
horses feet, and was only in time to see
Agnes spring lightly from the saddle. He
doffed his hat respectfully, and waited for
his mistress to speak.
You know, Arnold, that it was my
father's intention to meet young Dudley
at daybreak, to-morrow ?'
I know—l know, Mistress Agnes ; but
he is ill—stricken down—and cannot go,'
answered the old servitor, in a mournful
voice.
know of a champion,' and the girl's
face flushed as she spoke, a rather inex
perienced youth, but one who has a brave
heart, a keen eye, and 'a ready hand. All
that, he has, but no armor, and my father's
is all too wide for him. Know you of any
other I'
Up in the garret is a suit long unused.
It belonged to your father when he
,was a
mere stripling, scarcely stouter than you,
my dear lady.'
That will do very well, I think. Have
it brightly polished, all id order, :and lay
it on the couch in the bed-room.' ,
It is as bright now, Mistress Agnes,'
replied the old man, respectfully, though
with an accent of pride, 'as the day when
your father last wore it, nearly forty years
ago._ I loved the armor my young pupil
wore, and no spot of rust dulls its bright
surface, no stay unloosed, or any dinted
plate.'
Ever - faithful ; good Arnold ; all is
well. To-morrow at daybreak be at the
hall door with black Rudolph, father's
!".
• • . •
tr pacengoup.*Eigi OCOOLUaIs TIEN CONIST AWARD. IMMLQUCE.
LANCASTER CITY, PA., TUESDAY - MORNING, tf V - 1 4 Y. '23, 1861.
„ .
c Afellow,'. rnold; old exclaimed:a cheery
voice, don't bother your old brain, bnt obey
orders. To-morrow will solve-yottt doubts.
God and St. Josephns grant that our poor
master's cause may be victorious?:
Amen, Joseph, responded Arnold.; and
he turned and went. slowly te*arde the
Just before daybreak the next morning,
obedient to orders, Arnold,- clad in armor,
holding Black RudolPh, stood at the ;hall
door. His own horse was'held' by Joseph.
Both men watched with anxious eyes - the
opening of the heavy oaken ? door •
Mayhap the young knight -mrsleeps
- himself, and is dreaming of his lady love,'
mockingly whispered the yeoman 'to the
old squire. • •
The words were hardly out of his mouth,
when the door swung back upon its hinges,
and the ring of a mailed heel was. heard
upon the steps. Eager eyes were raised
and lowered in great . -disappointment, for.
the visor was tightly olosed.;
Perfectly silent the unknown knight
mounted the spirited war horse; took the
lance, and started off at a brisktrot, closely
followed by Arnold. The yeoman shook
his head as he gazed after them, and mur
mured while watching them out of sight
among the trees.
Its nobody I know. •He mounted none,
too glibly, although he rides well. A slen
der youth is he to combat with the fiery
Dudley. Success attend him.
In perfect silence the knight and the,
esquire rode a short distance to the field
of combat—a plain in the furtherest verge
of the Lysle domain.
At last the ground was reached, and the
stranger rode into the field on one side, at
the same moment that Mortimer Dudly en
tered on the other. A few people were
assembled to witness the struggle. The
unknown knight and Mortimer Dudley
gravely saluted, then backed their horses
to the extremity of the field and waited
with lances in rest for the signal to be
given. A stout man, Sir William Delorme,
gave the required shout. In an instant
both horses sprang forward and bore their
riders on. Once they met, yet neither was
struck ; the second charge the lance of the
Earl of Dudley touched the shoulder of the
young knight who visibly reeled. Arnold
was in despair, and murmured :
All is lost! the next charge he will
fall!'
A third time they rushed forward and
in a cloud of dust one went down. Arnold
closed his eyes and fairly groaned, when a
shout made him re-open them.
Lysle forever ! Lysle forever !'
Sure enough, it was the proud Earl of
Dudley who was unhorsed, and beside him
knelt the stranger knight.
Now yield you, Mortimer, Earl of Dud
ley V
I yield,' said the young Earl ; 'but I
would know to whom, for you are not Sir
Henry Lysle I am sure.'
The friends of both parties stood around
and Arnold among the foremost.
g Rise up, Mortimer, Earl of Dudley, and
you shall know who has been able to con
quer you.'
The young nobleman rose, and with fol
ded arms looked at the slender, mailed
figure before him. The stays were unloosed
and helmet thrown -back, and the sun
streaming through the clouds, which had
obscured it, shone full upon the uncovered
face. Mortimer started while a loud tri
umphant shout rent the air. The young
man gazed in wonder and admiration upon
the delicate face, long waving brown hair
and heaving bosom of Agnes Lysle A
red flush rose to the brow of the haughty
Earl, and he bit his teeth with rage.
Be not chagrined, brave Dudley,' said
Agnes, in her rich, sweet voice, while her
long dark lashes drooped on her soft cheeks.
You have but bowed to the fate decreed
to all mankind. From the beginning to
the end of time, brave men will yield to
the power of women, and degrade not their
manhood by so doing. I battled for my
home, Sir Earl, and God guided my arm.
Hereafter, let us meet as friends who have
proved each other's mettle. Shall it be
so?'
Unable to resist the sweet voice and be
witching smile Mortimer seized the mailed
hand, kissed it, whispering so low that
none of the by-standers heard
'Yes, a thousand times yes ; and from
my fall I will rise and soar higher than
ever, seeking only for your love and ap
probation.'
A bright flush spread over the beautiful
face but for one moment—then, with a half
murmured farewell, Agnes mounted her
father's horse and prepared to leave the
field as quickly as she came. But this was
not to be, for all the people, present turned
with one accord, and in triumph accompan
ied her home. She tried in vain to remon
strate against this—her words were un
heeded. At her bridle rein rode the proud
Earl of Dudley.
Upon his bed of illness lay Sir Henry
Lysle. The shoats of the returning party
reached his ears, and by signs he inquired
the cause.
The knight returns victorious,'
exclaimed Margery in delight.
Alfred, who sat beside the bed, rose up,
exclaiming, while his whole frame fairly
trembled with excitement :
'Oh, father! the joy isn't all Dome yet.
Wait till you know it-all: Shall I lead the
proud - conqueror to your 'bedside, - dear
father
An eager sign of assent was given by
theinvalid, and Alfred hastened as fast as
hisdameness would permit, from the room.-
With•a step lees firm and varying cheek,
Agnes, led by her brother, entered Sir
Henry's Chamber. Her visor , was closed.
Coming forward she knelt beside the bed.
At an eager signfrom.her father, she strove
to'unloose• the stays,',"_lMt her trembling
fingers refuied to do her hidding
Earl of Dudley, who still kept by her aide,
Undid-the fastenings and: Alfred threw
:back the helmet, dis closing' the, blushing
face of Agnes .Lysle.
The shook was great and affected a cime,
lor, Sir Henry rose up, in bed . ' and_ ex—
elainied
I f744-Pe!! !, Agues !my Agnes .1 in armor
oomieg•-here victorious V • • • •
c!l:ree, fitter,' .exolAinied Alfred; Agnes
it is . enrely" ; •-• •
Mortimer-Dudley here itepPicit forward.
.Gently,, Sir : Henry• . 1- 4 W bitelc:. upon
, Your pillow.- Like hero your - daughter
!donned . .aritar.: aka the.
prOndeet .: noblelnPtigigii4'aei.rhere . to say
It. :r yield..to her heart and for
tune, the devot ed
, love of • here,
in your presence, I lay et her-feet praying
that she :map not, give my; 401011410 w, fOr
Oforial',Wonla - . kill me.';': • r ., • •
With deep devoted love- shining rom
his eyes, the haughty _ Mortimer DuAlley
waited
-her answer. itisingfrorn , her knees,
all clad in olankling armor, and her face
I brilliant with hapPihess;'Agnei Liqde Came .
,
forward and placed the tiny hand, so lately
cached in a mailedganntlet,lii the hands
of the young Earl saying;with her fascin
ating smile ,
I vanquished yon, Mortimer 'Dudley,
you have conquered me for all time.'
Mortimer folded the • young girl in one
fond embrace, then turned' to Sir Henry;
who ley upon his pillow, sniffing,' but weak.
4 Your blessing, Sir Henry Dysle. This
daY your daughter has Won 'back yOur in
heritance, and robbed me of , the • things most
vidued; heart and liberty—two feats.
Thus Agnes Lysle became the wife of one
of the proudest nobles in England, and the
memory of her feat is still' cherished, for
the ()rest of Dudley's is knit of a ducal coro
net of gold, a 'woman's, bust, her' hair dis
hevelled, bare bosom, a helmet on her head
with stay or throat-lash down; and MSS
in ,possession of the Dudley's of Northamp
tonshire' preserve the story of THE UN
KNOWN. CHAMPION.
Female Extravagance.
The getieral monetary embarrassment
will enforce economy in our homes, sad
many luxuries will be surrendered which
have hitherto been deemed, almost indis
pensable to comfort. The wonderful
prosperity of our country has led to extra
vagant habits of living, fatal alike to re
publican and Christian simplicity, and
it may' be hoped that adversity will teach
wise lessons. The Springfield Republican
bas some plain remarks on female extrav
agance :
• This is a hard subject for us to touch
upon, especially with words of fault-find
ing. A woman does look so pretty when
well dressed, that until some startling de
velopments have rendered it imperative,
we have refrained from saying a word
against the extravagant outlays that are
now made for. femalci dress. We think
that we do not' stretch the truth' in sta
ting that the dress of a woman costs two
dollars now where did one ten years ago.
it is now silk every where, or an expen
sive fabric of wool ; and cotton is univer
sally at a discount. The shop-girl stands
in silk behind the counter, and as the
shop-girl wears the dress.that the fashion
able woman did ten years ago, the latter
is obliged to adopt a fabric of a More
costly oharaoter, e so that when the dollar
silk was once good enough the heavy three
dollar mark antique will alone suffice.—
Ten to twenty dollars are now paid for a
hat, where five and ten dollars were once
considered extravagant. It is thus in
every department of female dress. This
tendanoy to overdress was once considered
an American vulgarity; but there is no
lack of extravagance abroad now, and so
cieties have already been formed in
European continental cities for its sup
pression.
The singular fact has been pretty widely
published that in Boston, during the past
year, the number of marriages has been
reduced twenty per cent, from the previ
ous year. Now we have not the slightest
doubt that this fact grows out of the con
scious inability of young men, starting in
life and business, to support wives in a
manner consonant with the present requi
sition of social life. Girls must keep house
and keep it in style, or they must board in
a costly boarding house, and dress in a
manner corresponding to that entertained
by the daughters of the millionare. There
is no more of the occupation of the humble
home at first, no more of the self-denial
by which the wife becomes the sharer of
the young husband's poverty and strug
gles ; no more of the adaptation of life to
circumstances, by which the wife grows up
with the husband into fortune, but mar
riage must now bring at once all the ad
vantages and all the show of fortune, or it
may not be indulged. In other words mar
riage has become a costly and rare luxury,
to be had. only for money- 7 and not that
natural and unrestricted connection of ac
cordant loves and lives, which is necessa
ry to the happiness .of both men and
woman, and essential to the purity and
progress of society.
This puts a serious face uptin the mat
ter—a very serious face. In the history
of every nation, that which has operated
as a bar to the marriage of the sexes has
been the nurse of vice. A man who has
really made up his mind that he cannot
afford to be married, and that he must lay
aside all hope of it for years, at least, is
in a dangerous position. He has lost
some of the most powerful restraints from
vice that have ever influenced him; and
while he adopts a course that unfits him for
the pure pleasures of home and connubial
life, the ungathered roses ' still cling to
the ancestral tree, and wither where they
hang: Howeier much men may feel the
cost of woman's extravagance, and however
little they can afford it woman feels it still
wore and can afford it still less.
The general idea of living is altogether
above the mark of Christian prudence or
sound social poliey. The prudent re
duction of the cost of living indirectly
increases the prosperity of business.—
Men complain that- they •cannot make
monoy, and yet they earn money enough.
Five hundred dollars saved from an annu
al expenditure of Id2ooo, is a snug ' . little
sum to lay up every year, and there are
few families expending,this 'sum who •would
not be just as well, nay, better off with the
reduction. We - would by no means ex
empt men from the charge of extravaganoe . ;;
but we do not think' their expenses have
been increased in the degree of those of ,
their wives and daughter& It is hard de-,
nying women anything, .but if they are
true women they will Ask withingf uniefir.
soluble...
• ADTEXTOF,THE MIISQUITO.
'Again kgsant mosquito oomm,
Thai - brigand of the idght, ••: •
With , all his ititring family, ' •
To put my. dreauss to flight,
And try andsettle,h,is
And take aTdrift at eight!'
I:hear iwt.f4.okeilreadtalmuld
.121 0 1 t.44bwir ie near . ; •
I heirhim si horn,
hrol
'Siad whet fits peieenadtalWAS:-
He sonde the battle blast, And ah
feat that helia hesell
,
' • I tent thi ali, I' Deed tti *age
-• With geniis in idle find;
My hopes,. Lary:pil9rApl}elii% '
Are blasted in the bud ;
I'm vanquished iu gl@ ronncl,
- • laid he blitabi 4 E-fitht !" '
•
In rain the rank ogara . aauPte,
144iikwild'and daSiierate grown;
' I try id
• And sfint-the whidaw'lloven;.
For Bfiji heWrAII ,O O.9I4IIWINA /AP'S,
htenotaaprisly . _
Like Cook among the cannibals, •
- "Thruseleaviio : apßealii,
Or li,ke a :mum m.. wind inyeelf
In sheetis frcitleadisi heel
The' hungry_ Wititish4fasiploited ine out
To make himself a meal ! .
• •
lie comes-by' ,
do,
- Totchant hismothlng hymd ; •-
- • Me: havereth: 0! =Alm hahy'4 oodcibt
Just like the cherubim ; • ,
.• . By day Be•wadeth in the swamp,
His legs urelong and ' •
Ch! bear me to - some itiiiien Waste;
.
Where paler tempests blaw; .
On train'oil'l Willigase•nidiioved,
Or Greenland's olifti ottniow,-
• And be content to pasa:myide9r
Among the .
,: •
our_MAlts, Mkt
. .
It witakia , glortoue: eveaufg in autumn
when I reached the outskirts of my native
village, after an absence of nearly :flay
years, during whioh: time Ihad been
rorighiy tocteed'abput.tho c rsoUgh *ota;lind,
had contrivedtc; increase my wealth. and
to 'impair my health to's considerable
extent. A long , sojourn. in hot climates
had broken my hale - -conetitution and
mended my broken rfoitutietir;:tind after
years of hard struggling, money and - the
liver-complaint came into , lny l . possession
together..- For. the former: I had long
cherished a: sincere-regard,-but :to the lat
ter I had many objetitions, upon which it
is unnecessary here to dilate, I began to
be afraid Of bank cut - efrili my prime
(sixty7three) and, I disliked the idea of
dying. for sever* reasnns., For many
years I had been in death's way, but
always. avoided, him as much as- possible;
when on the field'of battld'l haVe thought
it would be better to'nmeti him quietly and
serenely on a sick-bat 'and when tossing
and tumbling on a sick-bed I have thought
it preferable to-be introdueed'to his notice
amid s the- hurry, and-eonfusien.ef a field of
battle ; : in fast, in - whatever way he seemed
likely to itf , Pfeaetwinithat way I disliked
him most, In the, cotmiry in which I rO
sidedi. hia usuai,mode of introducing him
self into'the company of peopla was through
the Medium Of-his rascally : agent, yellow
fever, and so I determined to depart and
enjoy the rernainami of„ my days, in my
.native land. Enjoy 'the remainder of my
days! alas ! how' we mis-apply words.
The time was, when the mere conscious
ness of existence was 'enjoyment ; when a'
scamper over the fieltisot match at cricket,
or .a `fox-chase," was- superlative delight ;
but now age, that is, middle-age, had
overtaken me, and all the artificial Stimu
lus that, riches could procurwfforded but
a fleeting and transitory te‘g of some
thing that resembled= enjoyment, yet fell
far short of the original. But I will not
moralize.
As I said, it was a. glorious autumn eve
ning when I reached my native village.
The goldensun shed his parting rays upon
a spot that had been hiug fondly treasured
in my memory, and which latterly had
seemed so much a picture of the imagina
tion that it almost startled me to look at
last upon the reality, and find it so like
my day-dream for many a year. As 1
strolled along and looked around, the un
forgotten scenes of many a youthful frolic
successively presented themselves to my
recollection,and through the . dim vista of
sixty years I recalled the dayS of my child
hood.
g I will go to the spot, exclaimed I
aloud, where I. used to meet Mary.'
And thither I went. It was still the
same;, a kind or natural arbor formed by
nature in the little wood that skirted the
village, for the accommodation of loiers
who might chance to be overtaken in a
shower in their evening r Walks. I, began
to feel my dormant sensibilities awakening
as I stood within it ; but perceiving two
persons approach, I, concealed myself be
hind some bushes tail they should have
passed on, as I did not feel in the humor
to be accosted by any one in my 'present
state of mind. Unluckily the pair turned
directly into the arbor, talking in a melt
ing tone , of voice, which- sufficiently indi
cated in whet relation they stood to each,
other. I could not refrain• from looking..
The girl was extremely pretty; and her
delicate complexion and rosy cheeks, were
peculiarly agreeable to my eyes : . after the
dusky tints ;I had been so long accustomed
to in °then latitudes. The yonth was a
fine, handsome'Stripling of about nineteen
or twenty, with an open, glowing, and
good-tempered countenance, mixed with a
(faith of reckless daring that became it
well,—just such another as I was myself
about his time of life,
Virhat's the matter, Mary V- tenderly,
inquired he.
How can you ask,_after whatloßhAve
told me V
But you know, dear "Mary, I bilist'asek
fortune where she is to be found: iss. of:
little avail to linger in this dull spot:
But where.will you go? What will yow
do ?' murmured Mary.
Go anywhere—do anything—go for a
soldier, or a sailor,'—the girl clung oloser
to his arm at the idea---e or to India, *here
I have.a rich old uncle—anywhere:so that
I make money, 'and - then I will return
again to-my dear, dear Mary.'
To this very - definite, feasible, and:
promisiOg scheme, poor Mail could `ogly
reply by. tears, which the young rogue
took the liberty dkissing away veryfreely;
but at the same time ,tenderly , and` respe ct fully ; ,anff aftpr :muPISI -vows,, promises,
and - prciteEitatione;theytook their. departure.
When they were out of sight crept.,
from my Idding-place, , vcryJmuch affected
by the - scene' Hula •-,inEitlwitnessed, and not
a little , apprehebsiver:ef la' athlete of the`
rheiimatialci'franriying 136 'loirig : canocaled
upon the damp grass. repaided to the
principal village anointed my limbs
with-, some •patettr preventive rhemnatio
liniment; End retired to ' rest, determined.
in 'the morning to mains known to the - iti-:1
habitants- the -arriirel- of iheir wealthy
l
townsman._ .But,,alaa.!.. in _the_monlitig'
found I Awls - anzongsestrangeia.. Neatly
all ' WM lialfilitAirflife r ifeidtleat
gbv.outitheremainder.,of,th,it•utie
elsewherei A. feW "of•-• thyliffihoolunktes;
,'indeed balled wit sered old !pea.lo ea'-'
.pressed their regret.la my= •ball: looks and
infi valliaa;:atikcilticlo!bel. , (3 f.;#alt a ilept
questions ; Ana .then went - gloat their:Wei.
nese. My fatheroftkievAtililonga ago
paid the debt of nnaftVe7-,-an i 4., my little
breptheß;Ned Awl rgruwkup ;tea) man,. gqirr,
Oia4t ' - fPiAaakitw -‘ e4o '•, PY absence,.
and-&l*kfpp*yorg fellowwas.piesenta
ed.to se,aspoor, qe44lyeal. - #Eeendint.
I WV aata l F4l&aaPlktin&a 404
'
deal please d' to
Was the - eanie"
overheard 'the.' - Preceding evening.
' Well,' thought I, this is at - leist: some
coinfdrt.' • I Wilfi3ri poor 'Mary's tears'
Ned wag glad enough to •find a!rich•unclei.
and 'doubtless indulged. in all- those _pleas
ant Melons. of the future wkiolv.young peo;.,
plif are so expert ia.oreating. I bought a
large house, took; him, : home with me, , and
soon found there was no living without the
rascal. He •I completely , wound . himself
round my old eart, and, no won der.""He
was the metireet,lardieet, hearti est fellow
in creation ; . .could do -
,
pthing dance,
sing, hunt, shoot, tail a boat; drive a' gig,
creek a, joke or tell a story 'better than
any one. Then he was so good-natured,
and without 'the ilighteit approach to
servility; put Up with my whims and ill
:humorin n way:that made me like him ten
times niore -than ever, the 'moment they
were over. • The truth ! was, 1.. had a most ,
unforklatu,tetaperi such as no one could
;acquire except / those who have lived among
slaves and-under a tropical sun. I was at
times tieifect hurricane—a '
a tornado.'
iiaid lone day after dinner, while
we were taking onr - wine together—.4-6•Ned,
•my boy, I think itie about tiine you had a
wife.' • • • ; 111. .
g Just as you say,' returned, my dutiful
Whew-
.'"
Well, then, Ned, .i r have had some es
perienee among women, and you shall have
the udvantage of it ; I will look, out for
you.'
• T. ,
am much obhged to you, my dear
uncle, but I, have already done that my
self,' stammered Ned.
I oottnterfiited•a look of infinite surprise.
And prayitrho is'the latiy.l-4hat is her
name
; Mary: Russell.'
; Mary what !' exclaimed, my feigned
surprisc turned-to real. '
; Mary Russell.'
; Not old Russell the, upholsterer's
daughter, I hope,' said I.
; The same.'
Then you shall never marry her, Ned,'
cried I in a frenzy, or if you do, I'll dis
inherit yon'
All Ned's blood rushed to his face ; if
it had not been for the ungenerous threat
of disinheriting lam, he might have in
quired the reason of my seemingly unac
countable behavior ;' as it was, he scorned
to do it. His,eyes sparkled—he started
from his chair and exclaimed :
But I will marry her, in spite of you
and all the world.'
I was now in one of my East India
storms of passion. I knew not what I
said, except that I uttered a torrent• of
opprobious epithets. Ned eyed me fiercely
at first, but checking his passion he waited
quietly until I had exhausted myself, and
then advancing towards me, said :
Sir, do not think. I mean in the slight
est degree to, deprecate your anger or
shrink from what . 1 have said !'
He paused a moment, then seized me by
he hand and exclaimed :
You have been kind—very kind to me,
and r thank you for it, bat henceforth we
are strangers. I wish you, sir, long life,
good health, a better temper; and a more
submissive dependant,' and he left the
room.
I raved like a madman. But I must
first give some explanation of my very
extraordinay conduct. ,The caseatood thus:
When a stripling of twenty, I loved or
fancied I loved, Miss' Mary Jenkins, and
Miss Mary Jenkins loved or fancied Ithe
loved me. At a ball one evening she gave
it as her opinion that Mr. John Russell, a
person for whom I had a great contempt,
executed a pigeon-wing in a manner
superior to any one in the room. Now I
picqued myself excessively on my dancing,
and, taking this as, a personal insult, I in
sinuated that Miss Jenkins knew nothing
of the matter. Miss Jenkins replied that
I was a puppy, I retorted that she was a
flirt ; both were probably right, but, that
went for nothing.' ' She commanded me
never to speak to her again, and I took her
at_ her word. In abont a' week, however,
rbegan to show symptoms of repentance,
and made overtures for reconciliation ; but
judge of my surprise when I was given to
understand she was about to be married to
another, and that the gentleman was no
other than the identical Mr, John Russell.
We diet in the street—quarreled—l sent
him a challenge,—it gotwind, and we were
both held to bail to keep the peace towards
each other, and I left the place, deter
mined to have my revenge one day or other.
With a person of another temperament
this would soon have been forgotten ; but.
I was of an unforgiving disposition, and I
nursed my wrath for years, till I exploded
in the above discreditable, manner.
After Ned was gone I felt thoroughly
'ashamed of myself. , .
~ I halloed to him, but
he, would not turn, so I put my dignity in
my pocket, my hat on my head, and ran
after him. He was going straight toward
old. Rusaell's dwelling. I strove to over
take him before he reached it, and in my
hurry struck my foot against a stone, and
my pericranium came in contact with the
pavement in a way that must have knocked
my brains out if I had any ; but my con
duet has . doubtlesearready shown that there ,
was no danger of such an event.
When I recovered - r - found myself in a
comfortable bed, the room half darkened,
and my head The door opened
and two persons approached the bed-side.
1% counterfeited sleep, and found .it was
,Mary Russell'and my nephew. It appeared
I had been five -days in :tt delirious . fever,
and Ned, poor boy, was expressing the ut
most solicitude for my recovery, and at the
same time cautioning ;: Mary never to let
me know that he had been there. I could
contain myself no tenger. ' , Ned,' 04011,
s you shall Marry the girl;' . both started;'
and this, the first sensible think I hadlaid
or done, was, ia14p7,01 1 0, ..fresh proof
insanity 4314.*Thl,00tkiineed them rim
sane--'Npa;'l'Tppo4o4 ? sshalt .
the girl . you haVe half * fortune
now, aid d - the fist' ighen
,yonr . ' old finale
,dies ` In'phort all' was reconciled. ;'.14
old 'flame make ituibaaid-Munet4
1 round she had left off flirting, and he had
quitted pigeon-wings and puppyism—taken
d politics and porter, sind, instead of a
;cionsummate coacomb,was now respectable
tradesman. Three weeks after:, Ned and
'Mary were married, and - it- made - me feel
quite young again to look at the fair and
13looroMg bride, dressed .in virgin white,
and blushing cellestial rosy -red—rlover's
p*opei. huts.; And then the bridesmaids
akipping about like young fawns, and
amirlripg, giggling, and laughing if a male
'cttature did so much as look at them, I
kissed them all aroun - d,. , and was pro_ .
pounced the moat gallant• old gentle-
Man ever seen in those parts, and walked
a! minute with the bride's mOthari . told
long incomprehensible stories, and--was
epnveyed to bed in a high state of excite-
Meat; My head aohed in the morning, bat
got better as the day advanced. I leave
the moral of this tale to the ingenuity of
the reader
MHID LATiriDAsTEIEL INTEILLIVAICIOCER
•; JOH PRINTIITO ESTABL • -,
No. 8- NOItTE{ DUKE STREET, LANCASTER, :PA.
.The lobbing Denartineht Is' thoroughly farnishedrielth
newand elegant typo of every description, and is under
the chart.* of a practlcid and experienced Job - Prlnter.l.—•
The Proprietors are prepared to . •
PRINT CILECRS,
NOTES, LEGAL RUNES,
CARDS AND CIRCULARS,
BILL AND HANDBILLS, !:,
PROGRAMMES AND POSTERS,
PAPER BOOKS AND PAMPHLETS,
BALL TICKETS AND INVITATIONS„
PRINTING IN COLORS AND PLAIN PRINTING,
with neatness, accursoyand dirpatch, on the most ressonr..
hie terme,and In . a manner not excelled by any
,eatablish
ment in the city:
;Ea...Orders from a distance, by mail or, °thatch's,
Promptly attended to. Address
aiti: SANDERSON & 8 0 N, - ,
Intelligeficer Office,
No. 8 North Duke street, Dane:eater, Ps.
- .
S'E AND 1:111.1` L OW. D•All
4_11; TATTERSAL'S HOB E POWDER,
HEAVE POWDER,
ROSIN,
FENNUGREEK
SULPHUR,
GEURIAN,
CREAM TARTAR,
COPPER.
For sale at THOMAS =MAK AS ER%
Drug A Chemical Store, West Ring *treat, Ltish.
feb 9 If 4
INFANTS' DRESS PRESERVERS
PATBNT.
This newlyliscoiered Invention Preeervea 'the Clothes
froin being Soiled, rendere Nursing safe from lawn
ventence, and ie a great comfort to Mothers And Nursee.
To be had at ALL LADIES' STORES, and sent free.
by poet, direct from the inventor, Mas. ARIAPIELD, No.'
612 Twelfth street, Washington, D. 0., by remittihr,the
amount.
MUCH, ONE DOLLAR EACH.
LAD-YA GENTS WANE. E
Jar- A liberal allowance made to the trade.
oat 2
SPECIAL . NOTICE.
WENTZ BROS
Ofrer every possible inducement to
CASH BUYERS OP DRY GOODS.
Determined to reduce their stock, they give
, GOOD BARGAINS.
BEAUTIFUL FANCY BILES,
At. 33, 60, 75, worth double the money.
GRENEDINE AND BEREGE GOODS,
About one-half their value. Every variety and style of
SPRING AND SUMMER DRESS GOODS, '
SHAWLS, SILK AND CLOTH CLOAKS AND MANTLES,
FRENCH. LACE MANTLES,
Pointe, Shawle, Bornous, Eugenee, Freuoh and Chantilla
Lace Goods in overy etyle—without regard to cost.
6-4 and Super Black MERINO AND DELAINH for
Shawle.
SUN UMBRELLAS AND PARASOLS.
LARGE STOOK OP
MEN'S AND BOYS' WEAR,
AT LESS THAN MANTIPATIISEH'S MOS.
A great sacrifice in a lot of
• BEREGES AND, LAWNS,
Which are closing out at 1234 cents—one half price.
Great bargains In COLLARS and SLEEVES from Auction,
WENTZ BROS.,
East King and Centre Square.
June 18 St p]
NEW SPRING MILLINERY Goopg
The subscriber has just returned fromoPhiladelphis
and Now York, with a complete and well selected stock of
SPRING AND SUMMER MILLINERY GOODS, which he
offers to the public, in general, at wholesale and retail, for
the lowest cash prices. My stock consists in Silks of all
colors, Crimea Lawns, Bamlge, Mode, Tarlton, Grown
Lining, Capenett, Jetinblond, Quißings, French and Ameri
can Flowers, Silklace, Edging, Strawgimp,
bons of the .newest style, Wire, Bonnet-Frames,
Bonnet-Blocks, Straw Bonnets, Hats and Shakers
of all colors, and the newest style and shape; Ban-
net materials, and Trimmings of all kinds, 'Jewelry,
Notions, Dry Goode, and n great many articles too darner
ousto mention. Also, TRIMMED AND. READY MADE
BONEETS all the time on hand of the very latent fashion,
which he offers cheaper Ilion the cheapest, •
The subscriber Ts thankful for past favors, and 'hopes a'
continuance of all his old customers and plenty more new.
ones. L. BAUM,
No. 81 North Queeh street, Lancaster, re.. •
8m 10
LIFE OR DEATH.--The subscribers
take pleasure in announcing that they are now Ike•
pared to mail (tree) to those who wish it, a copy of an Im
portant little work, by the late Dr. Brampton, entitled
"VIII INVALID'S MEDICAL
_CONFIDANT," published
for the benefit, and as a warning to young men and per
sons who suffer from Nervous Debility, Premature Decay,
/to, do supplying the means of self cure. The reader is
irresistibly led to compare a useful life with an Ignoble
death. -
Reader, lose not a moment, but send your addroisa for's
oopY or this little Work. Address the Publishere. •
DR. JOHN B. OGDEN & CO.,
64 and 66 John St., New Tort:
apr r 3m 16]
ClLOAritt AND INANTILLAS.
every novelty of the season. The richest 'materials,
the beet work, and prices lower than ever. DIENS,
No. 23 South 9th Street, Philadelphia.
'0 IT Y °LOA t3' T =Oll
No. 142 Sottth Bth Strut, Philadelphia.
Cloth Cloaks, in endless variety; Silk Cloaks and Man
tillas in every quality, style and cost, at prices that enable
us to defy competition.
FASHIONABLE CLOAKS.'
If you want style and quality, go to the Paris Mantilla,
Store, N. E. Corner Eighth and Walnut Ste., Philadelphia. ,
SPLENDID SILK MANTLES.
The largest and moat fashionable Stook in the clty.
N. E. Corner Eighth and 'Walnut Ste, Philadelphig.
CLOAK'S I CLOAKS I I CLOAKS! I I
Elegant Naw Store. Magnificent Goods,
No. 29" South 9th Street, third door below TEENS,
may 21 Philadelphia. am 19
1 - 211CORPOR.A.TIDD /61101
HARTFORD FIRE INSURANCE COMPANy;
OE' HARTFORD, OONN. • ,
0
CAPITAL AND ASSETS $936,709.0.
H. HIINTINGTON„Treeidant.:
P. C. Amaze, Secretary.
Policies leaned and renewed; losses equitably adjusted
and paid immediately upon satisfactory. proofs, New ,
York funds, by the undersigned, the DULYAUTHORIZED
AGENT. • JAMES SLAM,'
oct 231 y 411
.. Agent for Lancaster&
CIRCUL AR.
ANEW DRMOGRATLO MORNING PAPRR
"7 H E
N 1 0.-Ni"
•
With a view to meet a universally admitted .want, the
undersigned will taxmen Monday, the let of July next, a
Morning Penny Paper, to be called ‘' TECH UNION."
has
evergreat mission of the Democratla .Party, which has
ever stood as the bulwark of the Unkm:arid the Champion
of the Constitution, renders its entire unity and bold atti,
tude In this hour of National peril a matter of vital con.'
cern: The pending struggle's not less for the maintenance
of a United Country than for the Perpetuation of Demo.
craUc Principles, as expounded by Jefferson and Jackson::
The most momentous results hang upon • the Lune. Biers
party questions are for the time by common consent 'adz
journed. The pact is dead, save in italessons of experience,- •
The Democratic hosts have not shrunk from theie.full •
share to the and dangers of the emergency.,
They have rallied with one accord around the standard of
our common country. But tlie•occasion imposes other',
duties. The - ouseerunant wiliViegemd and, receive the
willing support of every pabiotarfitiefforts to vinditatte
the National' honor and reggiaorCA• Natlonai autiartAt;
but the Preservstion of . 06fistitnifonal Liberty rests more
with the people than with Colognes and Cabinet,. Vigibmair
and Unity are therefore spectsli9 requisite in the present
juncture. V
It is the purpose of , 'Proprietary yp make .THE
UNION," in every respect a limitless Journal. Ate
Democracy of the whole State feel the need of a bad' and
vigorous Metropolitan daily; and no effort eparedr
to render THE 'UNION" both popular and and ' aided
aa a newspaper, and as a fearless exponent .of the pent,
principles for which the Democratic party hive ever con
tended, and which are now so unhappilyttsperilled:
The Proprietors have perfected such, arrangements am,
will place the enterprise, from the beginning, upon ' a
stantiel,businems basis, with abundant means to . Enke a
Newspaper mooed in interest and ability to no other in the
city; and while the paper will be,Diarlessly Demeeratic.
'will sedulously avoid all faction, as the deadliest bane - to
party efficiency.
. . _ .
We look toll's DEMOCRATIC/ KABBIIB for support, and
labor to. make "T 8& UNION" in every.wal worthy
their confidence and liberal petronage, as Ufresb, Wadable
. and fearless Journ a l. • . • , -
TERMS:—Per lama= Three Dollars, or
Hers SIX OEDTE PER MEM,
. •
June 18 No. 130 &sath Third BC., Philadelphia Pa., !-,1
,7„t_p;
TAMES , Et . EAREER
MACY ANDIV.IIOBOFt CHAIR. AUB , : .,5
No. 5 53ft ,Zairt King ; afro o tiikaos or, ,!, t
Takes pleaaarCin Inviting the pubUo to eaflat Wait,-
'mama•',and:azlmine 'hie BILMMEVAESOBEEpt . O.
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