€l)c iancastcv Itutdluiiciuci: YOL. LXIII. THE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER, biISHED FVXBY TUESDAY. AT SO. 8 SOttTH DUES BTBJtIT, 3Y GEO. SANDERSON. TERMS Subscription Dollars per annum, payable In ad vanco. No discontinued until all arrear ages are paid, unl'-as at the option of the Editor. Advertisements. —Advertisements, not exceeding one square, (12 lined.) will be inserted three times for one dollar, and twenty-five cents for each additional inser tion. Those of greater length in proportion. Job Pristina —Su<-h as Hand Bills, Posters, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, Ac., Ac., executed with accuracy aDd on the shortest notice. LOST—SOMEBODY ’S CHILD. BY THOMAS MACKELLAB. Somebody’s child is lost to-night ! I hear the bellman ring ; And the earth is frozen hard and white, And the wind has a nipping sting. I know my babes aro long abed, A tender, motherly hand Laying a blessing on every head After their evening prayers wore said— God keep the slumbering band ! Yet somebody's child is lost, I say, This night so bitterly cold, Some innocent lamb has gone astray Unwittingly from its fold. “Bellman! ho, bellman, whose child is lost?” Aud I grasp my staff and cloak ; But the ringer over the wold had cross’d Before 1 tardily spoke. The neighbors soon gather, and far and near We pry into ditch and fen, Till, bnrk ! an answering shout I hear — The rover is found again. Ah ! mother, fond mother, your heart is light With Joe to your bosom bound ; But many a child is lost to-night Who’ll never, no, never bo found. Ay ! somebody’s child is lost to-night, While the wind is high and hoarse, And the scudding ship, like a bird a*fright, Flies shivering un it a course. She suddenly drops in the yawning deep As never to return ; She leaps atop the watery steep, A-creaking from stem to stern. Hold,well, good bark ! for a score of lives Comprise thy costliest freight; Else loving mothers, nnd maids, and wives Will ever bo desolate. And well she holds, with a single sail Outspread to guide her way, While all the furies of the gale Around her bulwarks play. The sailor-boy, with a fearful heart, Sighs for bis distant home, And the hasty tears from his eyelids start, And drop in the briny foam. In the months agone a father sigh’d, And a mother trembled with fears; But that father’s law had he defied, And bo scorn’d that mother’s tears. The pitiless blast now mocks his grief, And a huge and hungry wave Bears him away beyond relief, To tbo depths of an ocean grave. The brand is blazing upon the hearth, The work of the day is done, And the father’s heart runs over the earth In search of the wandering son . “Oh ! where is our poor boy to-night— This night so bleak aud wild ? ” The mother shuts her eyes to the light, And inly prays for her.child The busy needles all cease their flight, While their hearts say, “Whore is he f” They dream not bo has sunken from sight, Down, down, down in the sea. The mother may pray, and she may weop Till she weep her life away, But never more will she find the sheep That wilfully went astray. Somebody’s child is lost to-night! Oh! sorrow is on the day When a virgiu’s fame is rnurr’d with blight That cannot be cleansed away. An humbled family sit in the gloom, Bemoaning their hopeless shame — Would that she were safe in the tomb With honor upon her name! While deck'd in garments of satin and sin. The fallen daughter, I ween, Is scorch’d with a fever of heart within, Though reigning as wanton-queen. 0 merciful Father! is this the child Thy hand created so fair, With eyes where simple innocence smiled, ' And coy and maidenly air ? Is this the promising moruing-tlower, The brightest its rivals among ? Is this the bird that sang in the bower With sweetest and merriest tongue ? Ah me 1 this child is more than lost; For her low-fallen form, On sin’s voluptuous surges tost, Will perish in passion’s storm. And the mother may sigh, and she may weep Till’sho weep her life away, But never more will she find the sheep That wickedly went astray. Somebody’s child is lost to-night— A widow’s only son, With brow as light and eye as bright As you ever look’d upon. “And he will bo my staff and stay”— Her words were inly spoken— “ When I am old, and my hair is gray, And my natural strength is broken.” Her motherly soul with pride o’erran As the lad grew up to the estate of man, And she said, in her joy, That nobody’s boy Could match her paragon by a span. Time stole along, and her locks were gray, But her heart had lost its pride ; Bor the man had wander’d so far astray, ’Twere better the boy had died. A loathsome, vile, and gibbering thing, Stung by the fatal still-worm’s sting, Despised of man, contemning God, And gnashing at the avenging rod Wherewith his passions scourged him sore, Till, fainting, he could feel no more, — Ah ! somebody’s child was lost in him When ho took up The wassail cup, And sipp'd perdition from its brim. Then his manhood died, And the beautiful boy Of his mother s pride Spill’d in the sand the cup of her joy. Instead, she quaff’d A wormwood draught, A sorely-smitteu woman; l'ct loved she still, Through every ill, The child so scarcely human. In weariness and watchings often tkimurmuringly her grief she boro, Until, unwrapt in shroud or coffin, Her son lay dead before her door. Her sorrows had come so thick and fast They cluster’d round her everywhere, Till, reason utterly overcast, The darkness hid away her care. Yet ofttimes would she ask for one Long gone from home, her beautiful son ; And while she chided his long deluy, Bhe sigh, aDd whimper, and pray. That mother will sigh, and she will weep Till she weep her life away ; But never more will she find the sheep That wickedly went astray. Bo many children are lost to-night That I, even I, could weep As I hear the breathings, soft and light, Erom the crib whore Tommy's asleep. And 1 strain my vision to pierce the clouds That hang over years to oome ; But utter darkness the futuro shrouds. And the tongue of the seer is dumb. So I lay them down in the bosom of grace, Tbe children whom God has given, Trusting he’ll bring them to see his face, The face of our Lord in heaven. LETTING IN THE NEW YEAR, BY FANNY H. ROCHESTER. It was the last night of the old year, and Grace Dean and her mother were alone in their cottage on the edge of WolCott woods. Once Grace had been a petted heiress, but since the insolvency and death of her father, she had made only too familiar acquain tanceship with poverty. Little, indeed, did the inhabitants of Pineville suspect that the pale, weary-looking seamstress who had oome a stranger among them and rented the Wolcott Cottage, and who depended chiefly for her subsistence on the patronage of Judge Wolcott’s family, had once, in a distant city, moved among the highest in the land, and been even the belle of her sex. And on this night tbe heart of Grace was heavy. Though it was nearly midnight she still plied her needle, and her tears fell fast as she sewed. She was thinking of the festive party up at the hall, with its lights and flowers, and music and dancing } and she pictured the portly old judge, once her friend, gaily leading the revels ; and another, younger and handsomer than even the judge had been in his best days, who wasalso aliouated from her. Mrs, Dean sat slumbering in her chair, occasionally waking to bemoan their hard fate, that they had again to seek their fortune in a strange place ; but the mother knew nothing of the deeper sorrow of the daugh ter, and Grace vowed that Bhe never should, though her own heart broke for it. Grace had been sewing at the W oleott’s, when Mrs. Wolcott was seized with a ma lignant fever. The servants had fled in dismay, leaving only the invalid’s two daughters to take care of her : and these were young, ignorant and necessarily in efficient. In this emergency Grace had tendered her services. All through Mrs. Wolcott’s long and dangerous illness, Grace nursed her faithfully and tenderly. For many days the room was kept dark ened and quiet ; Madge and Fanny hover ing uneasily about, obeying Grace’s suggestions with the docility of children, while tho judge and his son Richard would steal in softly and sit beside the sufferer, while Grace rested. At length came the days of convales cence, and now the family gathered in Mrs. Wolcott’s room, and whiled away the hours with reading and pleasant conversation ; and when she was stronger, there were long, pleasant evenings in the luxurious parlors, when Madge played and Richard and Fanny sang, and Graco sat by Mrs. Woloott’s side, quiet and happy. In those days, all social distinction seemed to be forgotten, and the poor seamstress was treated as a valued friend. Grace never could forget the evening when Mrs. Wol oott first joined the family at the tea-table. Judge Wolcott carried her out in the dining-room, while the rest followed. It was a warm, pleasant evening. The win dows were open, and the sweet odors and sounds of summer came stealing in. Mrs. Wolcott motioned Graco to a seat beside her, saying, ‘ I have had Grace by me so long, I should feel lost without her.’ They were all in high spirits, glad and grateful, and happy that the danger had passed, and the beloved wife and mother was with them as of old. Grace sat and listened to the cheerful flow of words, but felt strangely—she could not eat. Richard, who sat opposite, noticed it, and said, ‘ Miss Rean looks like an invalid herself.’ A faintness came over Grace, and she fell insensible. When she awoke to consciousness again, she was lying on a sofa, and the family were grouped around with anxious faces. Madge was bathing her head, and Grace heard the physician’s voice, saying, 1 It is the fever ; she is worn out with her exertions in your sick room, madam, and will need the best of care.’ Grace was weak and helpless as a child, and Mr. Wolcott carried her up stairs. Then came a blank. Sometimes she would see kind, anxious faces beside her ; then all would be dark again. But it passed at length, that terrible illness ; and it was so pleasant to be carried into the sitting-room those pleasant autumn mornings, while Mrs. Wolcott, who was now quite restored, occupied her usual place. Madge usually busied herßelf about her embroidery, and Richard often read to them, while Fanny flitted about like a little humming-bird as she was. While Grace grew stronger, she often went out in tho carriage with Mrs. Wolcott, and sometimes one or both of the ladies. When the danger of infection was over, things fell more into their regular course—Grace returning to her mother at the cottage. But she was, nevertheless, almost constantly at the hall, where, ! though nominally still the seamstress, her : position in the household was entirely | changed. Whenever the family spent the | evening at home alone, she often joined i them in the parlor, and afterward a servant ; would be sent to accompany her home, or ' the' judge, or his son, would walk down with her. It drew near Christmas. Some guests had arrived several days before, among whom was Mrs. Landsdowne, (Mrs. Wol cott’s sister,) and her daughter Minnie, with Maud Redfield, an old school-friend of the Misses Wolcott. Nothing could be more unlike than the fair, violet-eyed Minnie Landsdowne, and the dark, regal beauty of Maud Redfield ; and Grace felt a dislike to the latter, as she did a prefer ence for the former. The antipathy seemed to be mutual; for whenever they met, Miss Redfield regarded Grace with a haughty stare that deepened her dislike. One day, after Miss Redfield’s arrival, Grace met Riohard on the stairs. He greeted her cordially, saying, ‘ Where do you keep yourself these pleasant days, Miss Dean ? I’m afraid our guests frighten you into making a prisoner of yourself.’ Grace blushed more at his manner than his words, and before she could reply, a voice said, 1 I am ready Mr. Wolcott,’ and looking up, she saw Miss Redfield standing at the head of the stairs, dressed for a ride. Riohard answered with a bow and smile, and offered his arm, while she gave Grace a look of mingled contempt and hatred. Christmas came and went. New Year was at hand. Now, New Year was always the great day at Wolcott Hall. The judge belonged to au old Knickerbocker family, and besides, New Year was his birthday. This year, New Year fell on Tuesday. On Saturday, as Grace was sewing at the Hall, ‘ Miss Redfield entered the room. Will you sit dowD V Grace asked, scarcely knowing what this visit portended. Miss Redfield smiled and drew np a chair beside Grace, saying, 1 1 have oome to ask you a favor. It is a trifle, and 1 am sure you will grant it. I had a dress made jnst before I left home, and intended to wear it New Year’s Eve, but I neglected to try it on till yesterday, when I found that it needed some alteration before I could possibly wear it. I was out a long time, trying to find some one to do it in the village; but everybody is busy just now, and as a last resort I oome to you.” ‘ Certainly I would do it if 1 had time,’ replied Grace, ‘ but I don’t know how it will be.’ « 0, I know you will have no time on Monday,’ interrupted Miss Redfield ; ‘but you might do it to-morrow.’ ‘To-morrow!’ Grace repeated in dis may. ‘ Surely, you don’t mean it ! To morrow is the Sabbath!’ ‘ But,’ said Miss Redfield, ‘ it is a work of necessity.’ ‘ Pardon me, Miss Redfield,’ said Graces ‘ But it does not seem at all necessary to me. I have seen you wear a number of heaptiful dressos since you have been here, and surely some of them would do for Monday evening.’ ‘ Yea,, yes,’ she rejoined impatiently ; « but I have worn ihem all, oyer so many times, and this is new and so becoming. I have sb'{ s niy heart upon it and'ihust have u that country is the host whirs labor commands thi okiatbst riward.”—buchanan. LANCASTER CITY, PA., TUESDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 18, 1862. it.’ And she placed a shining gold piece in Grace’s hand. ‘ Them that honor me, I will honor!’ seemed to sound in Grace’s ears, and she answered decidedly, as she returned the gold. ‘No, Miss Redfield, I cannot do it to-morrow. Money is no temptation to me to violate the law of God and my own conscience. And if I did it at all,’ she continued proudly, ‘ I should do it for nothing.’ A malignant expression crept over Miss Redfield’s face as she rose, saying, ‘ Yon will repent of this ! But I know what your objeot is ; you have got some of the Wolcott’s puritanioal ideas, and yon think your saintly ways will find favor in Richard’s eyes. But 1 cap tell yon he is as proud as he is good, and, with all his chivalrous ideas of right and honor, he will never stoop— ’ The hot blood was flushing Grace’s face, as she rose and held open the door. Miss Redfield, angrier than ever at this hint of dismissal could not finish the sentence, but with a look of bitter hatred, passed out. Grace closed and looked the door, then threw herself on a chair and wept as if her heart would break. On Monday there was a joyous bustle through the house. Grace was working busily upon some articles that she knew Mrs. Woleott wished to have done that day, when she heard Miss Redfield’s voice in the hall saying, ‘ I have a portege whom I would like to recommend to you in her place. 1 think she would please you better.’ To Grace’s astonishment she heard Mrs. Woloott say in reply, ‘Thank you; I think I shall employ her, as I have con templated a ohange for Borne time.’ Grace was thunderstruck. What could Mrs. Woleott mean? How could she have offended Mrs. Wolcott, who was so gentle and so just ? All the mornrng Grace pondered her words, and wondered what she should do when oast off upon the world again. ‘ She will surely help me to find another place,’ Grace thought. She knew she bad done right; and, as human helpers seemed to fall away, she leaned with firmer trust upon the Divine. ‘ Truly,’ she thought, ‘ the ways of the All-wise are mysterious and past finding out. It seems strange to me that this wicked girl should triumph ; but I know it is all right. The hearts of men, 0 God, are in Thy hands, and, trust ing in Thee, I will await the issue.’ And so she sat, that bright morning, and listened to joyous sounds, and noted the guests as they flitted past her half open door, and saw the sleigh drive off with Richard and Miss Redfield. It was afternoon when Madge came in hurriedly, saying, ‘ Why, Grace, how pale you are! We have been so busy lately, that I haven’t seen you. You are too much confined here. ‘ Yes, and it’s a shame for her to be stitching away this merry holiday time, when everybody else are enjoying them selves!’ chimed in Fanny, who had entered unpereeived. ‘Mamma sent me to tell you,’ she continued, ‘ not to mind about finishing that trimming—something else will do just as well. She said she meant to tell you before, but she had so much to take up her attention lately. We are going‘ to have a grand time to-night, and mamma wants you to come down.’ ‘ I thank you,’ Grace managed to say ; ‘ but I think I had better not come.’ ‘O, but you must!’ said Fanny, and nover supposing that Grace would continue obstinate they left her. Rut how could Grace go? What was there in common between her and the hap py, brilliant compauy to be assembled that evening 1 The dream of her life was over. Not until it had been so rudely dissipated was she conscious that she had indulged in it. How insane she now saw it to have been ! Ah ! little—she thought—did her triumphant enemy know of the blow she had struck, and how it had gone to Grace’s heart of hearts ! When night began to fall, she had come home, plodding her way wearily over the snow, and having prepared her frugal sup per, had sat down to sew. Her mother had observed her evident distress, and had insisted on knowing the cause. So Grace, unable to put her entirely off, had men tioned her own approaching dismissal from Mrs. Wolcott’s as the reason of her de pression. In vain, however had hor mother begged her to lay down her work. Her answer had been, ‘ No, I must be more industrious than ever now. God only knows indeed, what will become of us. We must leave here ; nobody will employ me, now that Mrs. Wolcott casts me off.’ And her mother, unable to comfort her, and equally oppressed with fears of the future, had finally desisted. The moonlight lay bright and oold with out ; the woods, except where the avenue pierced them, were dark ; but neither was colder, nor darker, than the heart and hopes of Grace. It was the habit at Piue ville, as it is at many other places, for parties to go about, on this evening, from house to house, singing, which they call letting in the New Year. As Grace sat sewing she suddenly heard voices without; but she was in no mood for such a visit, and she rose to draw the curtain, not with out a secret fear, for the cottage was lonely, and she knew no one who would be likely to oome singing at their door, unless rude boys or ruder meD. Her alarm was in creased, when she saw, through the lat ticed window, a face that was unknown to her, and she gave a scream. At that mo ment, however, another step was heard, and a deep voice, that made her heart leap with a sudden bound, was hoard, speaking authoritatively, even angrily. Instantly there was a knook at tbe door, and the same voioe cried— ‘ It is I—don’t be afraid Grace.’ With trembling hands she opened the door. The men were disappearing down the road—the little gate into the Woloott woods was open—and up the avenue (which led to the hall 1 she thought she saw a sleigh, with a muffied figure or two in it. ‘ 0, Grace, bow could you V were the first words of the young man, as he took her hands. She blushed crimson, but oould not answer. What did it all mean 1 Rich ard gave her no time for thought. ‘ We expected you, till night set in,’ he said ; ‘ and then the judge, finding you did not oome, ordered me to start in the sleigh and bring you, rating Fanny sound ly for having forgotten to ask your mother, whioh is the reason, he says, you didn’t come. So Fanny is out in the sleigh, waiting to help you dress—and the house- keeper comes to stay with your mother, if Mrs. Dean thinks it too cold to go ont to night.’ What could Graoe say? Before she conld reply, Richard had darted back to the sleigh, and was leading baek Mrs. Dean, when her wonder let her under stand how things were, said she was too old to leave a warm fire at snoh an hour, and so the housekeeper was oalled in.— Graee, still bewildered, was soon ready, thanks to the nimble fingers of Fanny and her own simple wardrobe ; and, with a beating heart, took her place in the sleigh, whioh moved merrily off in the moonlight and under the still, grand trees. The judge oame down to the front door, to hand Graee out of the sleigh, and him self led her up to Mrs. Woloott, who rose and kissed her as if Grace had been her own daughter. Miss Redfield, standing aloof, looked daggers at the new comer.— Poor Graoe did not dare imagine what it all meant. It seemed so strange to her to be moving among that brilliant throng, leaning on Richard’s arm. The pleasant remarks of her companion had the effect to restore her, in some measure, to herself, and she was almost surprised to find herself talking so freely to Miss Landsdowne, whom they met near the door of the conservatory, to which her partner soon led her. The perfume of the rare exotics greeted her here like the breath of summer. At the farther end of the room they stopped to admire a brilliant flower, when Richard said, ‘ I have a gift, Grace, which I want you to accept from me,’ and he held up a diamond ring ; but first will you give me the hand upon which I would place it ?’ ‘ Richard ! Mr. Woloott!’ she exclaim ed. ‘ You are not in earnest ?’ ‘ I never was more so,’ he said. ‘ Will yon take the ring ?’ ‘ But your parents ?’ she asked, half bewildered, hardly knowing what she said. ‘ I have their sanction, dear Graoe, and I await yours,’ and he held up the ring with a questioning gesture. Graee extended her hand ; he pressed it to his lips, placed the ring upon her finger, then drew her head to his bosom. ‘My poor little lamb,’he murmured, drawing asid the veil of ourls that hung over her throbbing brow —‘ now I have a right to take care of you. It has made my heart ache to see you looking so pale and to think of you toiling so patiently.’ Graee could only listen passively ; the change was so sudden that it overpowered her ; she could hardly realize that she was betrothed tb Richard Woloott. At length she said, ‘ They will miss you—had you not better return to the parlors ? I will stay here awhile.’ He smiled, and replied, ‘ I want to present you to my parents first.’ ‘ 0 ! I cannot see aDy one to-night !’ she exclaimed. ‘ Indeed 1 cannot!’ ‘ You needn’t fear,’ he said ; ‘ you will receive a daughter’s welcome.’ And he led her baek to the parlor. The judge and Mrs. Woleott were standing together, and though everything around Grace seemed to float and blend in inextrioable confusion, yet she was oonsoious that they welcomed her to their hearts and home ; and she heard Miss Landsdowne say— ‘ So you will be cousin Grace. Well, I shall love you dearly !’ And then came Madge and Fanny, with their warm hearts and grateful welome.— But everything seemed to Grace like a dream, till she found herself again in her little room, Riohard having driven her home himself. And that was the way for Graoe, that The New Year was let in. The Confession of a Tea-Kettle, or, a Hint to Housewives. Everybody said so, and we all know what everybody says must be true, especi ally what every lady says. Now, what every lady said was this, that I was a ‘ love of a tea-kettle.’ I’m not a vain kettle ; and, although I say it, who shouldn't say it, in my youth 1 was pretty. Ah! you may laugh, but you’ll be old some day, depend on it. Well, I promised you my history, and now I’ll tell it, if you’ll only listen. I was made of oopper, but no sooner was the last polish put upon me, than my owner, a furnishing ironmonger, placed me in a conspicuous position in his shop win dow. My bright appearanoe and neat shape very soon attracted the attention of passers by. Every one admired me, and some pleased me much by openly express ing their admiration. One day a young lady—evidently but newly married—de clared I was a ‘ love of a tea-kettle,’ and having satisfied the ironmonger as to his demand for me, requested I should be forthwith sent to her house. Home 1 went, and had the satisfaction of hearing both the cook and the house-maid speak favorably of ray appearanoe ; and that’s a great thing, mind, for a kettle. I was very oomfortable in my new abode, and each evening, when filled with water, pure and soft, and plaoed upon the hob by the side of a cheerful fire, soon sung away to my master and mistress’s satisfaction, and my .own content. All went smoothly on, until one day, my master having received an appointment abroad, resolved to dispose of his house hold goods, myself among the rest. A lady residing in a neighboring village purchased me, and I was immediately packed off. Somehow or other I speedily found that, although the water I was daily filled with was clear and bright—more sparkling indeed, than I had been ao customed to —it made me feel very uncom fortable about my stomach, accompanied with a tight sort of feeling, and thicken ing of my inside, together with a great disinclination to boil and sing as I was wont. My mistress constantly complained of me ; and as for the oook, she was positive ly rude, for, on more than one occasion, she shook her fist at me and exclaimed, ‘ Drat that kettle, ’twill never bile !’ My ailment increased, and 1 continued to get worse, and my owner grew alarmed. A smith residing hard by, was my medioal at tendant, and he undertook to effect my cure ; he saw at onoe that it was not my fault that I did not boil—that I was coated inside with a substance foreign to my nature, whioh he termed ‘ furr.’ Taking me to his smithy, he set to work with ham mer and ohisel, and speedily removed the cause of my troubles. But, oh, the remedy was as bad as the disease ; my poor sides were so battered and bruised that I felt sure that when I reached home I should be dismissed to the kitohen, and never more be summoned to the tidy parlor fire, and, moreover, one small hole was knocked right through me, whioh pained me mnoh ; that, however, was patehed up, and as I did no t complain, no one noticed it. Although the ‘ fnrr ’ was removed, I was left very rough in my inside, and being onoe more brought into daily requisition, soon beoame as bad as ever. Neighbors were oonsulted, and all sorts of remedies proposed for my cure ; one that potato peeliDgs were to be boiled in me; another, a marble, and so forth; but no good came of them, and I continued to get so had and clogged np with ‘ fnrr,’ instead of holding three quarts, I-’hardly could oontain as many pints. One day a travelling tinker hap pend to pass through our village; he was a loquacious fellow, and soon made the aoqnaintanoe of my mistress’s cook; she happened to mention me to him, and he undertook to put me to rights in half an hour. In an evil moment for her, she parted with me, and next day I was miles away, in a large manufacturing town, never more to return, for the tinker was not ao customed to the method of business, ac cording to the rule of meum and teum. He soon sold me for half my weight’s value to a chemist, who taking off my lid, exclaimed, ‘ Ah, my poor fellow ! you’ve been badly used, I can see.’ His sympathizing tone induced me to open my heart to him, and to tell him my whole history from the very first. ‘ I see how it is,’ said he, ‘ bnt we’ll soon have it all right. I understand you to say, that the water you were first sup plied with seemed very pure and soft, though not so sparkling and bright as that you were filled with by your second owner. Well, that is quite in aeeordanee with ohemioal facts ; the water from the pump of your second mistress owed its brilliancy to the quantity of lime it held in solution. Rain water, caught in olean vessels away from large towns, is the purest that can be procured, without resorting to artificial means ; and this, although pure, will not sparkle like sprrng water, for the reason that it contains no lime or salt lime matter possessing the power of refracting light The water used by your first mistress con tained little or no lime, and all went on well. You see, the old proverb, ‘ not to trust too much to appearance,’ will apply to water as well as to men. Bnt how oame it that bright and sparkling water oaused such a disturbance of your stomach, and coated your inside with ‘ furr’ nearly an inch thick ?’ asked my Dew master. Of course I could not say ; and so he continued : ‘ I’ll tell yon. The water used at the house of your second mistress oontained a goodly quantity of lime—carbonate of lime, or chalk—dissolved during its percolation of tho earth ; this, from its perfeot solution, would render it sparkling. Now my good friend, you have helped to enliven many a Christmas party with the hot water you have supplied, and oannot fail to observe that when the guests were mixing their toddy, how much sooner the sugar dissolv ed in hot {pater than in cold; so it is with substances generally, they are more readily soluable in hot fluids than in cold.’ ‘ Yes, I’ve remarked that, sir,’ said I. ‘ Lime, however, is an exception; at ordinary temperature a pint of water will dissolve fully eleven grains of lime, while at its boiling point the same quantity will not take up seven. Of this water, bright and brilliant, and fully saturated with lime or its carbonate, you were daily filled, and as it beoame hotter and hotter, down and down went the lime, leaving day by day an additional coat on your poor sides ; and as a very small snow-hall will, when set in motion, increase to a monßter, so the oon- tiiiued daily film of limy deposit increased to an inconvenient and. unoomfortable thickness, and ultimately brought you to grief, for this thick deposit of ‘ furr,’ by reason of its being a bad conductor of heat, prevented its passage through you to the water ; it would not boil, and you got blamed.’ ‘ You know best, sir, and no doubt ii is as you say,’ was all I could give ut- terance to, ‘ But to the point,’ he continued. ‘ You are nearly half full of this troublesome stuff, and no doubt all good housewives will rejoice to learn an easy remedy. This limy deposit, though hard, and trouble some to remove by hammer and chisel, is easily got rid of by ohemioal agenoy. Hy drochloric acid—(giving a winoe at this hard name, my master noticed it, and said, ‘ Don’t be alarmed, it is commonly called spirits of salts,’) will remove the cause of all your troubles in a few minutes, without injury to yourself, and that we’ll at once prove.’ Accordingly, my good master sent to a druggist a bottle and procured half a pound of spirits of salts, costing but a few pence; he placed me in the open air, and having diluted the ‘ spirits ’ with a pint or so of water, poured it into me. Oh, what a oom motion it did produoe ! I laugh now ; but really I was alarmed at the effervescence that took place within me, but as in a mo ment the ‘ furr ’ began to get less and less, I felt relieved, and my spirits began to rise accordingly. My master Bhook me about now and then, taking care, 1 ob served, to avoid the fumes that arose, and in a few minutes exclaimed, ‘ All right old fellow, I can see your oopper ; now you’ll do. Come with me to the pump, and a douche will set you quite to rights.’ For ten|minutes I waß under hydropathic treat ment—such as patients at Ben Rhydding or Malvern rarely experience—and I was well as ever, ‘ good as new.’ I am now happy to tell I have never had a relapse of my old complaint, am happy as the day is long, and sing as readily as ever. THE LANCASTER. INTELLIGENCER JOB PRINTING ESTABLISHMENT, No. 8 NORTH DUKE STREET, LANCASTER, PA. The Jobbing Department is thoroughly furnished with new and elegant type of every description, and is under the charge of a practical and experienced Job Printer.— The Proprietors are prepared to PRINT CHECKS, NOTES, LEGAL BLANKS, CARD 3 AND CIRCULARS, BILL HEADS AND HANDBILLS, PROGRAMMES AND POSTERS, PAPER BOOKS AND PAMPHLETS, BALL TICKETS AND INVITATIONS, PRINTING IN COLORS AND PLAIN PRINTING, with neatness, accuracy and dispatch, on the most-reasona ble terms, and in a manner not excelled by any establish ment in the city. jQGf- Orders from a distance, by mail or otherwise, promptly attended to. Address GEO. SANDERSON A SON, Intelligencer Office, No. 8 North Dnke street, Lancaster, Pa. Ready-hade clothing a COUPLETS STOCK OP MEN AND CLOTHING, ALSO BLACK FRENCH CLOTHS, BLACK FRENCH DOESKIN CASSI.MKREB, PLAIN, SILK MIXED AND FANCY CABSIMERE3, BATTINETB, VELVET CORDS AND JEANS, Will be made to order in s superior manner at low prices. MILITARY BUITB Made to order in the best style at short notice, by nor 29] HAGER A BROS. [tf 46 H D, FOR THK HOIIDiTSI! CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEARS GIFTS, nr th* qraauot vaeutt at SHEARER’S CHEAP BOOK STORE, Comprising the largest and best selected stock of ILLUSTRATED AND STANDARD RELIGIOUS, HISTORICAL, POLITICAL, SCIENTIFIC, AND MISCELLANEOUS BOOKS, CHILDREN’S BOOKS, TOY BOOKS, (Linen and Paper.) GAMES AMD PUZZLES , Innumerable in quantities and kinds FAMILY BIBLES, The Largest and best Assortment ever offered in the city, at all Prices. POCKET BIBLES, PRAYER AND HYMN BOOKS, Suitable for all Denominations, in all Sixes and Kinds of Bindings from the most common to the finest Velvet bound. A Large Assortment of • DRESSING OASES, LADIEB’ TRAVELING AND SHOPPING BAGS, PORTFOLIOS, CABAS, WRITING DESKS AND OASES, MONEY PURSES, POCKET BOOKS, Ac. MA THEM A TIG A L INSTR UMENTS, CALL BELLS, FINE POCKET CUTLERY, PEARL AND IVORY PAPER CUTTKRB AND TABLETS, FINK GOLD AND BILVB PENS AND PENCIL OASES, Infinite in number, Style and Finish. A great variety in size and price of CHECKER BOARDS AND MEN. DOMINOES, CHESSMEN, Ac., Ac. The best place in the city to bay Books. We sell at less than half price, and give yon YOUR CHOICE IN A LARGE LOT FOR 25 CENTS, YOUR CHOICE FOR 37 OBNTB, YOUR CHOICE FOR 50 CENTS. The above consists In part of the many articles which have been selected and purchased expressly for their ap propriate character for the approaching Holiday Season, and will form a large and choice assortment from which to select CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEARS PRESENTS. For price aDd assortment of Goods in oar line, we feel confident that we cannot be eurpased by any bouse in the city, and for a proof of what we say, we invite one and all to call and look at the great variety at SHEAFER’S Cheap Book Store, dec 17 tf 49j 32 North Qneen Street, Lancaster, Pa. SOMETHING FOR THE! TIMES! II A NECESSITY IN EVERY HOUSEHOLD!! 1 JOHNS <£ CROSLET’S AMERICAN CEMENT GLUE, THE STRONGEST GLUE IN THE WORLD FOR CEMENTING WOOD, LEATHER, GLASS, IVORY, CHINA, MARBLE, PORCELAIN, ALABABTKR, BONE, CORAL, Ac., Ac., Ac. The only article of the kind ever produced which will withstand Water. EXTRACTS “ Every housokeeper should have a supply of Johns A Crosley’s American Cement Glue.”— New York Timet. “It is so convenient to have in the hoose.”— New York Express. “It is always ready; this commends it to everybody.”— N. Y. Independent. “ We have tried it, and find it as nsefnl in oar house as water.”— Wilkes’ Spirit of the Times. PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS PER BOTTLE. Very Liberal Redactions to Wholesale Dealers. TERMS CAB H. Jj£g- For sale by all Druggists and Storekeepers generally throughout the country. JOHNS A OROSLEYj (Sole Manufacturers,) . '8 WILLIAM ST., (Corner of Liberty St,) NEW YORK july 9 ly 20 rjIHK PEOPLE'S HAT AND OAF STORE SHULTZ <£■ BRO . , HAT MANUFACTURERS Wo would again call the attention of our CUSTOMERS id all disposed to favor us with their patronge, to OUR STYLES FOR THE FALL OF 1861. Our Stock will consist as heretofore of SILK AND CABSIMERE, FIR AND WOOL SOFT HATS, IN ALL THEIR VARIETIES We would call particular attention to THE McCLELLAN HAT, THE FREMONT HAT, THE OXFORD HAT Latest Out. A Beautiful Assortment of FALL STYLE "CAPS CHILDREN’S FANCY HATS, CAP 3 AND TURBANS, BOY’S FATIGUE CAPS We would earnestly invito all to give us an early call before purchasing elsewhere, feeling well assured amid the varieties offered, they will not fail to bo suited. In conclusion we would return our sincere thanks for the past liberal patronage afforded us, and we trust, by close attention and despatch, to merit its continuance. JOHN A. SHULTZ, N rteQuekh Street Lancaster QEO. CARDER «& CO Have removed their WAREHOUSE, COAL AND LUMBER YARD , FROM GRAEFFS LANDING, To the Property formerly occupied by Messrs. P. Long & Nephew, on the opposite or sooth side of the Conestoga, And would call the attention of their old customers and all interested, to their superior STOCK OF C 0 A L , Suitable for Steam, Lime Burning, Black Smith and Family Uses, by the boat load or ton. Also, to their STOCK OF LUMBER, or IVEBY DESCRIPTION, CONSISTING OF Ist and 2nd COM. BOARDS, Ist and 2nd COM. PLANK, CULLING BOARDS, BARN BOARDS, CULLING PLANK, PINE SHINGLES, CYPRESS BHINGLES, HEMLOCK BCANTLING AND JOIST. CAROLINA YELLOW PINE FLOORING BOARDS, PLASTERING LATHS , PAILS AND PICKETS, 40., Ac All of which is of the best quality, and will be sold as low as can be purchased elsewhere. j We have the best Stock of POSTS and RAILS in the city of Lancaster, consisting of LOCUST MORTICED POSTS, CHESTNUT MORTICED POSTS, ' BOARD FENCE POSTS, AND A VARIETY OF CHESTNUT RAILS AND OTHER FENCING MATERIAL. GROUND ALUM AND ASHTON SALT, LUMP AND GROUND PLASTER. Recollect that we have remored to the other end ol the Bridge, where we will be pleased to see our old friends and customers. Q . CAL D E R dt CO., OFFICE IN LANCASTER, AS USUAL, East O&AJtat Street, brooks doob feom Nobth Queer. DRS. WAYLAN , TbeT .~? In all parti of the United State* for the ;paet three yean, have nrovan them In combine most valuable quallUM. Amonu which a?o TONE. STRENGTH, SONOROOSNEBB nnHAHIUTF OF VIBRATION,, uneqnaled by: any Itber Sinuractnro. Sizes, 50 to 5000 pounds, costing less tha h£lf Other metal, or Icento per pound, at which price we warrant them twelve months.; y irs- Send for Circular. PRATT, ROBINSON k 00. - (lliTB M. p. CHADjnOX A Co.) - j&n 28 3m 3} Fishing tackle. Rods, Limerick and Kirby Hooks, Net-Twine,,. SfR Grass. Cotton and Linen Line*; Floats, Snoods, Ao. ♦' . For sale at THOMAS ELLMAKBBEh :. Drn* A Cbemleal Btore,'opposite Cross Keys Hotel, ; W .troaL Lancaster. [majll-tt-18 ? TAITBSSAIiIi’B'HKITK fo WBBH Powdered Rosin,. Antimony,- Fennlgreek^; £o»pa^r w Drug and Chemical Store, West King ft NO.JS. JOHNS A CROSLEY’S EXTRAQTB Price 25 Cents per Bottle. Price 25 Cents per Bottlo. Price 25 Cents per Bottle. Price 25 Centß per Bottle. Price 25 Cents per Bottle. Price 25 Cents per Bottle. TERMS CASH throughout the country. (Sole Manufacturers,) AGENTS WANTED JOHNS A CROBLEY, Sole Manufacturers, NEW YORK.