r 7 : :: * * ""** - *r v. Jt jj?j(< • _ -»•j.'frfi-*- s*,' -j wS?' «*** K&ifiawbar'- P:tl V.w-W.r-.' iau „ . .. ***■ ■ !.**m »*>a •**•;«! -.- • ■ .», . „ ‘.p'V., v.f VOL. LXIII. THE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER. WISHED EVIKY TDISDAT, AT VO. 8 SOUTH DUX* STRUT. BY GKO. SANDERSON. „ .. TBEHS. BOTacuiPTios.—Two Dollars p«r annum, payable in ad* vanes. No subscription.discontinued until all arrear ages are paid, unless at the option of the Editor. AnvxsTiuxiSTft—Advertisements, not exceeding one : square, (12 lines,) will be Inserted three times for one dollar,jknd twenty-five, cents for each additional inser ■ tlon. Those of greater length in proportion. Job PUHToro—Bneh as Hand Bills, Posters, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, Ac,, Ac., executed with accuracy and on . the shortest notice. From the Maryland News Sheet. We venture to say that there are few mothers whose hearts will not swell responsively to the tender < entiments expressed in the following lyrio. Every stanzas is brimfnl of unshed tears: A MOTHER’S PRAYER. DEDICATED TO KBS. 1 —, St. LOUIS. Father! in the battle fray, Shelter his dear head, X pray! Nerve his yonng arm with the might Of Justice, Liberty and Right. Where the red hail deadliest falls, Where stern duty loudly calls, Where the strife is fierce and wild, Father! guard, Oh! guard my child! Where the foe rush swift and strong, / Madly striving for the wrong; Where the.clashing arms men wield King above the battle-field; Where the stifling air is hot With bursting shell and whistling shot— Father! to my boy’s brave breast Let no treacherous blade be pressed ! Father! if my woman’s heart— Frail and weak in every part— Wanders from Thy mercy seat After those dear roving feet, Let Thy tender pitying grace Every selfish thought erase ; If this mother’s love be wrong— Pardon, bless and make me strong. For, when silent shades of night Shut the bright world from my sight— When around the cheerful fire Gather brothers, sisters, sire— There I miss my boy’s bright face From his old familiar place, And my sad heart wanders back To tented field and Bivouac. Often in my troubled sleep— Waking,—wearily to weep— Often dreamipg he is near, Calming every arfxious fear— Often startled by the flash Of hostile swords that meet and clash, Till the cannon’s smoke and roar Hide him from my eyes once more ! Thus I dream—and hope and pray ___ All the weary hours away; " But X know his oause is just, And X centre all my trust In Tby promise “As thy day Soshall thy strength be” —alway ! Yet I need Thy guidance still! Father! let me do Thy will! If new sorrow should befell— If my noble boy should Jail — if the bright head I have blessed On the cold earth find its rest — Still, with all the mother-heart Torn, and quivering with the smart, l yield him , ’neath Thy chastening rod , To his Country and his 'God. MY WHISTLING NEIGHBOR. We had moved into a new house, situ ated about the centre in a row 6f ten, all run up together in hurried, mushroom fashion, and divided from eaoh other by partitions of brick so thin that sound was only a little .deadened in passing through. For the first three or four nights I was un able to sleep, excepting in snatches, for so many noises came to my ears, originating, apparently, in my own domioil, that anx iety in regard to burglars was constantly exoited. Both on the first and second nights 1 made a journey through the house in the small hours, but found no intruders on my premises. The sounds that dis turbed me came from some of my neigh bors, who kept later vigils than suited my habits. ‘ There'it is again !’ said I looking up from my paper, as I sat reading on the second day after taking possession of my new home. ‘ That fellow is a nuisance.’ ‘ What fellow V asked my wife, whose countenance showed surprise at the remark. She was either nnoonseious or unaffected by the oiroumstanoe that annoyed my sensitive ears. - ‘ Don’tyou hear it V said 1. ‘ Hear what V ‘That everlasting whistle.’ ‘Oh!’ A smile played over my wife’s faoe. ‘ Does it annoy you V ‘I can’t say that 1 am particularly an noyed. by it yet; but 1 shall be if it’s to go on inoessantly. A man whistles for want of thought, and this very fact will— ’ ‘ I’m not so sure of that,’ remarked my wife, interrupting me, ‘ the poet notwith standing. I would say that he whistles from exuberant feelings. Our neighbor has a sunny temper, no doubt; what, I am afraid, can not be said of our neighbor on the other side. I’ve never heard him whistle; but his soolding abilities are good, and, judging from two days’ obser vation, he is not likely to permit them to grow feeble for want of use.’ I did not answer, but went on with my reading, silenoed, if not reconciled to my whistling neighbor. Business matters annoyed me through the day, and' I felt moody and depressed as I topk my course homeward at nightfall. I was not leaving my oares behind me. Before shutting my aoconnt books, and locking my fire-proof, I had made up a bundle of troubles to carry away with me, and my shoulders stooped beneath the burden. I did not bring sunlight into my dwel ling as I orossed, with dull, deliberate steps, its threshold. The flying feet that sprang along the hall, and the eager voices that filled, suddenly, the air in a sweet tumult of sound as I entered, were quiet and hushed in a little'while. I did not repel my preoious ones, for they were very dear to my heart; but birds do not sing joyously exoept in the sunshine, and my presence had cast a shadow. The songs of my home birds died into fitful chirpings —they sat quiet among the branohes. 1 saw this, and understood the reason. I con demned myself; I reasoned against the folly of fringing worldly cares into the home sanctuary ; I endeavored to rise out of my gloomy state. But neither philoso phy nor a self-compelling effort was of any avail. I was sitting, with my hand partly shad ing-my face from the light, still in conflict with myself, when I became conscious of a lifting of the shadows that were around me, and of a freer respiration. The change was slight,, but very perceptible. I was beginning to question as to its oause, when my thought recognized an agency whioh had been operative .through the sense of bearing not before externally, perceived in ooqsequenoe of my abstracted state. My nwghhor was whistling ■ ‘ Begone, Dull .-Now, in my younger day 8i I had whistled ana sung the air and words of that cheer ful old song hundreds of times, and everv line was familiar to memory. I liatene/ with pleased: interest, for a little whfle’ and then,_as my changing state gave power to resolutions quick born of- better reason; 1 eaid/in my thought, emphatically; 'as iff remanding an evil spirit,' - ;.u -r s: ‘Begone, dull care!’ And the fiend left me. Then I spoke cheerfully, and in a tone I of interest to quiet little May, who had | walked round me three or four times, wondering in her little heart, no doubt, what held her at a distance from her papa, and who was now seated by her mother, leaning her flaxen head, fluted all over with glossy curls against her knee. She sprung at my voioe, and was in my lap at a bound, WhaC a thrill of pleasure the tight clasp of her arms sent to my heart! Oh. love, thou art full of blessing! From that moment I felt kinder toward my neighbor. He had done me good—had played before me as David played before Saul, exorcising the evil spirit of discon tent. There was no longer a repellent sphere, and soon all my little ones were close aronnd me, and happy as in other times with their father. After they were all in bed, and I sat alone with my wife, the cares that ‘ infest the day ’ made a new assault upon me, and vigorously strove to regain their lost empire in my mind. I felt their ap proaches, and the gradual receding of cheerful thoughts with every advancing step they made. In my struggle to main tain the tranquility which so strengthens the soul for work and duty I arose and walked the floor. My-wife looked up to me with inquiry on her faoe. Then she let her eyes fall upon her needlework, and as I glanced toward her at every turn in my walk, I saw an expression of tender concern on her lips. She understood that I was not at ease in my mind, and the knowledge troubled her. ‘ How wrong in me,’ I said, in self-re buke, ‘ thus to let idle brooding over mere outside things, which such brooding can in no way affect, trouble the peace of home and I made a new effort to rise again into a sunnier region. But the fiend had ihe in his clutches again, and I could not release myself. Now it was that niy David came anew to my relief. Suddenly his clear notes rang out in the air, ‘ Away with Meianoholy.’ I can not tell which worked the instant revulsion of feeling that oame—the cheer ful air, the words of the song which were called to remembrance by the air, or, the associations of by-gone years that were revived. But the spell was potent and • complete. I was myself again. During the evening the voice of my wife broke ont several times into snatoh es of song—a thing quite unusual of late, for life’s sober realities had taken the ! music from her as well as from her hus band. We were growing graver every day. It was pleasant to hear her flute-tones again, very pleasant, and my ear heark ened lovingly. The cause of this fitful warbling I recognized each time as the notes died away. They were responsive to our neighbor. I did not then remark upon the circum stance. One reason of this lay in the fact that I had spoken lightly of our neighbor’s whistling propensity, whioh struck me in the beginning as vulgar; and I did not care to acknowledge mysclf so largely his debtor as I really was. We were in our bedroom, and about re tiring for the night, when loud voices, as if in strife, came discordantly through the thin party walls, from our neighbors on the other side. Something had gone wrong there, and angry passions were in the as cendant. ‘ How very disagreeable !’ 1 remarked. ‘ The man’s a brute !’ said my wife em phatically. ‘He does nothing, it seems to me, but wrangle in his family. Pity that he hadn’t something of the pleasant tem per of our neighbor on the other side.’ ‘That is a more agreeable sound, I must confess,’ was my answer as the notes of ‘ What Fairy-like Musio steals over the Sea ’ rose sweetly on the air. ‘ Far more agreeable,’ returned my wife. ‘He plays well'on his instrument,’ I said, smiling. My ear was following the notes in pleased recognition. We stood listening until our neighbor passed to another air, set to Mrs. Heman’s beautiful words ‘ Come to the Sunset Tree.’ To a slow, soft, tender measure the notes fell, yet still we heard them with singular dis tinctness through the intervening wall, just a little muffled, but sweeter for the obstruction. “ The day is past and gone, The woodman’s axe lies free, And the reaper’s work is done.” My wife recalled these lines from her memory, repeating them in a subdued, tranquilizing tone. The air was still sounding in our ears, but we no longer reoognized its impression on the external senses. It had done its work of recalling the beautiful .Evening Hymn of the Swit zer, and we repeated to each other verse after verse : “ Sweet is the hour of rest, Pleasant the wood’s low Bigb, And the gleaming of the west* And the turf whereon we lie. I When the burden and the heat Of labor’s task are o’er, And kindly voioes greet The loved one at the door. ” To which I added : [ “ But rest, more sweet and still Than ever nightfall gave, 1 Oar longing hearts shall fill I In the world beyond the grave 1 There shall no tempest blow, No soorohing noontide heat; There shall be no more snow, j No weary, wandering feet; j And we lift our trusting eyes I Prom the hills our fathers trod, j To the quiet of the skies— To the Sabbath of our God. ” All was now still on both sides. The • harsh discord of our scolding neighbor had ceased, and our whistling neighbor had warb.ed his good-night melody, whioh, like a pleasant flower growing near an unsight ly objeot, and interposing a veil of beauty, had removed it from our consciousness. It was a long time since I had felt so peaceful on retiring as when my head went down upon its pillow—thanks to my light hearted neighbor, at whose whistling pro pensities I was inolined in the beginning to be annoyed. But for him I should have gone do rest with the harsh discord of my soolding neighbor’s voice in my ears, and been ill at ease with myself and the world. On what seeming trifles hang our states of mind ! A word, a look, a tone of music, a discordant jar, will bring light or shad ow, smiles or tears. On the next morning, while dressing myselfj thought reached forward over the day s. anxieties, and care began, drawing her sombre curtains around me. My neighbor .was stirring also, and, like the awakingibird, tuneful in sweet matins. rank Moin ; ’ ’ afind ing off with ‘ Begona®fcU Gare !’ aud the “THAT OOtfHTBY IS THI HOOT LANCASTER CITY. l’A- TUESDAY MORNING. MAY 20. 1862. merry laughter of a happy ohild which had sprung into his arms, and was being smothered with kisses. The cloud that was gathering on my brow passed away, and I met my wife and children at the breakfast table with pleas ant smiles. In a few days I ceased to notice the whistling of my neighbor. It continued as usual; but bad growa to be suoh s thing of ooune as not to be an object of thought. But the effect showing itself in a gradual restoration of that cheerfulness which care, and brooding anxiety about worldly things are so apt to produce. The ‘ voice of music,’ which had been almost dumb in my wife for a long period, was gradually restored. Old familiar ditties would break suddenly from her throat as she sat sewing, and I would often hear her singing again, from room to room, as in the sunnier days of our springtime. As for myself, soarcely an evening passed in whioh I was not betrayed into beating time with my foot to ‘ Auld Lang Syne,’ ‘Happy> Land,’ ‘ Cornin’ through the Rye,’ or Hail Columbia,’ in response to my neigh bor’s cheery whistle. Our children also' caught the infeotion, and would commence singing on the instant our neighbor tuned his pipes. Verily he was our benefactor —the harping David to our Saul! ‘ You live at Number 510,1 think,’ said a gentleman whose face was familiar, though I was not able to call his name.— We were sitting side by side in the oars. I answered in the affirmative. ‘So I thought,’ he replied. ‘ I live at 514—second door east.’ .‘ Mr. Gordon.’ ‘ Yes, sir; that is my name. Pleasant houses but mere nut shells,’ said he. Then with a look of disgust on his faoe, ‘ Doesn’t that whistling fellow between us annoy you terribly 1 I’ve got so out of all patience that I shall either move or silence him. Whistle, whistle, whistle, from morning till night. Psah ! I always detested whist ding. It’s a sign of no brains. I’ve writ ten him a note twice, but failed to send either time ; it isn’t well to quarrel with a neighbor if you can help it.’ ‘ It doesn’t annoy me at all,’ I answered. ‘ Indeed, I rather like it.’ ‘You do ■? Well, that is singular! Just what my wife says.’ ‘ First-rate for the blue devils, I find. I’m indebted to our whistling friend for sundry favors in this direction.’ My new acquaintance looked at me curiously. 1 You’re not in earnest,’ said he, a half amused smile breaking through the unami able expression which his face had assum ed. ‘ Altogether in earnest; and I beg of you not to send him that note. So your wife is not annoyed V ‘ Not she.’ ‘ Is she musical V 1 inquired. ‘ She was ; but of late years life has been rather a serious matter with us, and her singing birds have died, or lost the heart for music.’ ‘ The history of many other lives,’ said The man sighed faintly. ‘ Has there been any recent change v I ventured to inquire. ‘ In what respect V he asked. ‘ Has there been no voice from the singing birds V A new expression came suddenly into the man’s face. ‘ Why, yes,’ he answered, ‘ now that I think of it. There has been some low, fitful warbling. Only last evening the voioe of my wife stole out, as if half afraid, and trembled a little while on the words of an old song.’ ‘ The air of which our neighbor was whistling at the time,’ said I. ‘ ®*ght, as I live !’ was my companion’s exolamation, after a pause, slapping his hand on his knee. I could hardly help smiling at the look of wonder, amusement, and conviction that blended on his face. ‘I wouldn’t send that note,’ said I, meaningly. ‘No hang me if Ido ! I must study this case. I’m something of a philosopher, you must know. If our neighbor oan awaken the singing birds in the heart of my wife, he may whistle till the oraok off doom without hindranoe from me. I’m obliged to you for the suggestion.’ A week afterward I met him again. ‘ What about the singing birds?’ I asked, smiling. ‘ All alive again, thank God!’, He answered with a heartiness of manner*'that oaused me to look narrowly into his faoe. It wore a better expression than when I observed it last. ‘ Then you didn’t send that note V ‘ No, sir. Why, since I saw you I’ve actually taken to whistling and humming old tunes again, and you oan’t tell how much better it makes me feel. And the children are becoming as merry and musi cal as crickets. Our friend’s whistle sets them all agoing, like the first signal warble of a bird at day-dawn that awakens the woods to melody.’ We were on our way homeward, and parted at my own door. As I entered ‘ Home, Sweet Home’ was pulsing in tender harmonies on the air. I stood still and listened until tears fell over my oheeks. The singing birds were alive again in the heart of my wife also, and I said ‘ Thank God !’ as warmly as my neighbor had utr tered the words a little while before. The Effect of Elevation.— lt is not every man who oan bear elevation. It only destroys his virtue and value together. How soon a person, who has reoently oome into. possession of fortune, or been raised by publio honors, changes his whole style of oondnot!. He thinks he has somehow obtained the right to deal with all others .asif he were their fate! Then again, it makes one almost indignant to see how much snob a person assumes as if, according to a happy writer, ‘ the great had one particular privilege above the rest of the world, of being slow in reoeiving im pressions of kindness and quiok in taking offence.’ They may offend, and even in sult you; but be very careful not to speak disrespectfully of or. to them! The reason of all this, is that suoh elevation beyond their onstomary level makes men—giddy, so that they oannot see things as they saw them before. Diok Steele said, ‘ there are' but two ways of doing anything with great people ; and those are, by making yourself either considerable or agreeable.’ The latterpraotieeifl.noles3.th»naervtiity-^the in the wbrldfeven wbeh it in with one’s hnmor. * i i rfiWJ* £F*l iSUay-Sabt tf iiV? V --5 J iCWT&SiI &0~$ \ | j... WUMU LABOK 00UAXD6 TOT fIKIATKT REWARD.”—UTTmTAWAW WATERLOO. BY JOHN S. O. ABBOTT. The return of .Napoleon from Elba to Paris was the signal for all the allied armies of Europe to be on their maroh to crash him. Hurriedly Napoleon collected 120,000 men* to repel the million of bayonets, now crowding upon France. Wellington and Bluoher were in the vicini ty of Brussels with’loo,ooo eaoh. To save France the horrors of invasion, Napoleon resolved to oross the frontier, and fall upon one body.of the enemy and then another, -until they should be compelled to negoti ate. At 3 o’clock in the morning of the 12th of June, Napoleon left the Tuileries for his last campaign. He fook leave of Caulainoourt, saying, ‘ Farewell; we must conquer or die.’ Driving rapidly through the day and the succeeding night, he ar rived, on the morning of the 13th, at Avesnes, 150 miles from Paris. Here he v bad assembled all his available force. Wellington was at Brussels, and Bluoher a few leagues from him, neither of them dreaming of attaok. They were waiting the arrival .of 200,000 Russians, with whom they were to commence their maroh upon Paris. Napoleon’s plan was to attaok Wel lington by surprise, and destroy his force, and Blucher’s, and then to march against the Russians. In an hour after Napoleon’s arrival at Avesnes the whole army was in motion. By different routes they were directed to meet at Charleroi, 35 miles distant, at an appointed hour. General Bourmont was in charge of one of these divisions. In famously he deserted, and revealed to the allies the plans of the Emperor. Behin d the entrenchments of Charleroi, Napoleon found ten thonsand Prussians ready to dis pute his passage. He attacked them so vigorously that they soon retreated, leav ing 2,000 of their dead behind them. It was 30 miles from Charleroi to Brussels. Ten miles on this road is situated the little hamlet of Qu'atre Bras. Ney, with 40,000 men, was ordered to advance immediately to that spot. ‘ Concentrate there yonr men,’ said the Emperor. ‘Fortify your army by field works. Hasten so that, by midnight, this position, occupied and im pregnable, shall bid defiance to any attack. 5 Bluoher, acting from information received by the traitor Bourmont, was hastening with 80,000 troops to join Wellington. Napoleon at the head of 60,000 unexpect edly encountered him. After one of the most terrible conflicts ever waged, the Prussians fled-utterly routed, leaving 20,- 000 weltering in their blood, and 10,000 prisoners in the hands of Napoleon. Had Ney obeyed his orders, the Prussian army would have perished without the esoape of a man. But as Ney 'approached. Quatre Bras, in a dark night of storm and floods of rain, and through an ocean of mire, he al lowed his exhausted troops to stop, a few miles before reaohing that all important point, whioh he intended to take with the earliest morning light. He Cent word that the post was already in his possession. Wellington, at a ball in Brussels, turned pale with dismay, as he heard of the ap proach of Napoleon. It was fifteen miles from Brussels to Quatre Bras. Fully aware of the im portance of that post, he instantly dis patched a division to oooupy it. Through the whole night these troops pressed along the miry road, mingling their tumult with the roar of the tempest. In the morning Ney,in consternation, found that the En glish were in possession of the post. The whole day was spent in the most bloody, desperate and unavailing efforts to regain it. The anguish of Ney, in view of his irreparable fault, was awful. The night of the 16th of June came, a night of dark ness and deluging rain. Napoleon, at Ligny, was a victor. Ney, ten miles dis tant, at Quatre Bras, was baffled, bleeding and exhausted. Bluoher, with his broken battalions consequently esoaped, and re treated towards Wavre, where he was joined by reinforcements. Napoleon sent Grouchy with 30,000 men to pursue him. Wellington fell baok to Waterloo, to be joined by his Prussian allies. Suoh was the state of affairs when the morning of the 17th of June dawned upon these drenched armies. Napoleon, leaving Grouohy to pnrsue Bluoher, passed over to Qnatre Bras, joined his troops with those of Ney, and with this combined force of 70,000 fol lowed Wellington to the spaoious plain of Waterloo. Wellington had here skilfully posted his troops on an extended ridge, and was anxiously awaiting the arrival of Blucher. It was the night of the 17th, dark and rainy, when Napoleon reached the field. For eighteen honrs he had not indulged in a moment of repose or received any nourishment. All the night the rain fell in torrents, as the emperor stationed his army for the battle of the morrow. IV ellington’s foroe has been variously estimated at from 72,000 to 90,000 men. Napoleon had from 65,000 to 75,000. The morning of the 18th dawned lurid and stormy. It was the Sabbath. The undulating plain of Waterloo was a vast wheat field. Soaked with rain and ont np by the wheels and the tramp of these ar mies, it now resembled a quagmire. At eight o’clock the clouds broke, and the sun shone ont brilliantly. At half past ten the troops were all in their positions, the hospitals established in the rear, and the surgeons, with splinters, knives and saws, ready for their melancholy work. At 11 o’olook the carnage commenced. The English, with their formidable batte ries, were extended along the ridge of a gentle elevation, about a mile and a half in length. The French, from an opposing ridge, not an eighth of a mile distant, were forming in solid columns, and charging the British line up to the very mnzzle of their guns. Hour after hour the mnrderons fire continued, eaoh party apparently as indif ferent to bullets, balls and Bhells, as if they had been snowflakes. , About the middle of the afternoon the viotory seemed to be deoided in favor of Napoleon. In many places great gaps had been ont through the British lines, and fugitives, in broken bands, were flying in dismay towards Brussels. It is said that Wellington was in angnish, deeming the battle lost, and that he wiped the eold sweat from his tiro#, sayings ‘ Would that Bluoher or night were borne.’ Just at this time the quick eye of the Emperor discerned, far off tipon the right, an immense mass off 60$©0'men,' rapidly tipon’ Sped -tiiififfyrae Qronohy. It onghfriohave bbeii. 'lt was Bluoher. Napoleon had now but 50,000 men, exhausted by-exposure, marohings, and many hours of' the most desperate fighting. Wellington, with the reinforce ment of Blnoher’s fresh troops, had 100,000 to oppose to him. Twenty thonsand of the Frenoh soldiers were now either dead or wounded. But -50 ,000 remained to oppose 100,000. — Everything now depended upon the success of a desperate charge, before the Prussians could reaoh the field. The Imperial Guard was immediately brought forward. Napo lean wished to lead it, but yielding to the earnest solicitation of his staff, surrendered the oommand to Ney; In two columns this band, whioh had never moved but to victory, advanced against the batteries of the foe. Both armies, for a moment, rested to behold the sublime spectacle.— Not a drum beat, not a bugle sounded, not a word was uttered. Sternly they strode on, till within a few yards of the cannon loaded to the muzzle. There was a flash, a roar, and a cloud of smoke shut the oom batants from view, but within that oloud there was incessantly the gleam and the thunder of war’s, most dreadful storm. At the same moment the Prussians oame thundering upon the field. A gust of wind for a moment swept away the smoke,- and the anxious eye of Napoleon beheld that his Guard had disappeared. A mortal paleness spread over the cheek of Napoleon, and a panic seized every heart. A scene of horror ensued which humanity shudders to contemplate. Napo leon threw himself into a small square, whioh he had kept as a reserve, and urged it into the deepest throngs of the enemy, that he might perish with the Guard. Cambrone seized the bridle of his horse, saying, ‘ Sire, death shuns you. You will but be made a prisoner.’ Yielding to these solicitations, he reluctantly retired. The remnant of his Guard bade him adieu, shouting Vive I’Empereur! They were soon surrounded, and called upon to sur render. Cambrone returned the immortal reply, ‘ The Guard dies ; it never surren ders /’ A few discharges of grape from the surrounding batteries out them all down. Thus perished the Old Guard of Napoleon, and thus terminated the battle of Waterloo. Old Words with New Definitions. Some dear headed, mischievous ohap gets off the following qnaint definitions in whioh there is considerable more of truth than poetry: Water—A clear fluid, onoe usdd as a drink. Honesty—An excellent joke. Kural Felicity—Potatoes and turnips. Tongue—A little horse whioh is contin ually running away. Dentist—A person who finds work for his own teeth by taking out those of other people. My Dear—An expression used by man and wife at the commencement of quarrels. Polioeman—A man hired by the corpo ration to sleep in the open air. Bargain—A ludiorous transaction, in whioh each party thinks he cheated the other. Dootor—A man who kills you to-day to save your life to-morrow. Author—A dealer in words, who often gets paid in his own coin. Friend—A person who will not assist you becauso he knows your love will ex cuse him. Editor—A poor ohap who empties his brain in order to fill his stomach. Wealth—The most respectable quality of men. Bonnet—A female head dress for front seats of the opera. Critio—A bad dog that goes unchained and barks at everything he does not com prehend. Esquire—Everybody, yet nobody ; the equal to Colonel. Jury—Twelve prisoners in a box to try one at the bar. State’s Evidence—A wretoh who gets a pardon for being baser than his comrades. Public Abuse—The mud with whioh ail travelers are spattered on the road to des truction. Modesty—A beautiful flower that flour ishes in seoret places. ' Lawyer—A learned gentleman who res cues your estate from your enemy and keeps it himself. The Grave—An ugly hole in the earth, whioh lovers and poets wish they were in but take uncommon pains to keep out of. Tragedian—A fellow with a tin pot on his head, who stalks about the stage and gets into a terrible passion for so much a night. Marriage—The gate through which an enohanted lover leaves the blissful region and returns to earth. Death—An impudent fellow who visits people at all seasons, without invitation, and insists upon their immediately return ing the call. Lotteries—Concerns that pay the legis latures handsomely for the privilege of oheating weak minded people. Virtue—An awkwaid habit of acting differently from other people. A vulgar word, whioh creates great mirth in fashion able ciroles. Honor—Shooting a friend through the head, whom you respeot, in order to gain the praise of a few people you despise. The Broken Engagement. BY GIPSY. CHAPTER I. It was a beautiful evening in the dawn of summer. Two forms were sitting in olose proximity to one another by the win dow of a twelve thousand dollar house— heavily mortgaged:—in the upper part of this city. The hand of one rested lovingly on that of the other, and the arm of one desoribed a semi-circle round the other’s waist. It is hardly neoessary to say that they were lovers, and that this was as far as the young man could go in geometry. There was no light in the room, but there was no oooasion for any, with her taper waist and sparkling eyes and his flaming words. This is a small sample of their small'talk. ‘Dearest Flora, tell, oh tell me what I oan do to make, myself more worthy of your love. Did me undertake any mission yon please, and I will obey. Aye, even though it be—to out my hair short—sacrifice my, moustache —were large boots, or work for my living—speak, anythiog’you may com mand me.’ '■/" , . , ‘0 Charles! calm- yourself. ' Do,not speak in shudder. ■ NcyChartes, Ilove youfor your self alone.’ Then plaoing her hand gently upon his brow, she murmured, ‘soft, my love, speak soft, my own, and tell me do you love me now as mueh as ever, and will I ever be the same to you as I am now ?’ ‘Hear-ahme swear !’ cried the ardent youth, dropping upon his knees for the first time in his life, but suddenly rising with a troubled expression of countenance, as something put him in mind of the tightness of his nether apparel. ‘Ob Flora, there is not a coat that adorns any tailor’s window on Broadway, that has so high a place in my affections as yourself! You are to me what slander and gossip aro to young- ohurohmembers, or funerals to married women —my -life, my ambition, my hope, my all! A few "days more and we shall be unitecLjprever. I can soaroely realize my happiness.’ The fair one blushed and nestled closer to the vest-pattern of the happy youth. So we leave them. CHAPTER 11, It was a dark and gloomy night, two days before the time appointed for the nup tial ceremonies of the young pair. Charles bent his way, full of joy, hope and supper, to the mansion of his beloved. He rang the bell and was ushered into the parlor. Flora was not there, and after waiting a few moments, he resolved to desoend the stairs to the dining-room, ostensibly to seek for her, but most probably with visions of spoons danoing through his ever-teeming brain. With stealthy steps he approached the door and. suddenly opened it, when there burst upon his astonished gaze a sight whioh froze the blood within his veins. Upon the dining-room table lay many dishes and other artioles of orookery. Be fore it, with dishevelled hair and tucked-up gown, stood Flora, a huge carving-knife in her hand, whioh she was in the aot of plunging—into a pan of hot water. She had been caught in the act of doing housework ! With one loud shriek she fell to the floor, while her distracted and bewil dered lover rushed from the house. It is needless to add that of course the engagement, along with several brittle oups, was broken on the spot. Thus were two fond and doting hearts irrevocably separated! If my "‘"-T, —r."-, wlir be the means of persuading one young woman never, under any oiroumstanoes, to do any work about thp house, but always to let her mother and the other servants do it my object is more- than accomplished. Farewell!— New York Atlas. A Strange Story. The following wonderful story is told by a correspondent of the Dublin Evening Mail: This is the age of discoveries, and one of suoh a startling nature has just been made in an English county that it seems out of place in the region of sober faot, and to belong purely to the atmosphere of the three-volume novel. Here are the-oir oumstanoes —the names for the moment I am not at liberty to indicate: The Earl of married not long ago, and brought his bride home to one of the old family mansions which members of the English aristocracy regard with an afleo tion amounting to veneration. The lady, however, being more continental in her tastes, after a short residence in the apart ment appropriated to her use, expressed a wish to have a boudoir in the vioinity of her bedroom. The noble earl would gladly have complied with the request, but upon examination, it was found that the rooms, as sometimes happens in antique buildings, were so awkwardly distributed that by no conceivable plan of rearrangement could the desired boudoir be fitted in. There upon it beoame neoessary to invoke profes sional assistance, and an eminent archi tect was summoned from London. He ex amined the house narrowly, and said there seemed to be nothing for it but to build, though at the same time he could not re sist the impression that there must be ano ther undiscovered room somewhere in that wing of the mansion. The noble earl laughed at the idea; the oldest ser vents and retainers of the family were questioned, and declared that they had never heard even a rnmor of its existence. The ordinary methods of tapping,etc.,were resorted to, but without effect. Still the architect retained his qpnviction, and de clared himself ready to stake his profes sional reputation on the result. The earl at last consented to let the walls be bored, and, when an opening had been made, not only was the room found, but a sight pre sented itself whioh almost defeats attempt at description. The apartment was fitted up in the richest and most luxurious style of 150 years since. A quantity of ladies’ apparel lay about the room, jewels were scattered on the dressing table, and, bnt for the faded aspect whioh everything wore, the ohamber might have been ten anted half an hour previously. On ap proaohing the bed-the most curious sight of all was seen, and this it is that affords the only clue to the mystery. The couch held the skeleton of a female, and on the floor, underneath the bed, half in and half out, lay another skeleton, that of a man, presenting evident traces of violence, and proving that before he expired he must have reoeived some dreadful injury. The seoret connected with this tale of blood has been well kept, for not merely had all tradition of the scene faded away, but even the existence of the room itself was forgot ten. The survivors, probably, walled up the apartment at the time, and its contents remained hermetically sealed up to the present day,, when according to the best calculations, after the lapse of a century and a half, daylight has accidentally pene trated into this ohamber of horrors, whioh, to the surprise of all concerned, has been discovered in one of the noblest mansions in the county of——. . TUB I.ASCASTKR lITELLIOENCER - JOB PRINTING ESTABLISHMENT, No. 8 NORTH DUKE STREET, LANCASTER, PA The Jobbing Department is thoroughly famished with hew and elegant ift>e of every description, and is under the charge of a practical and experienced Job Printer.** The Proprietors are prepared to PRINT CHECKS, NOTES, LEGAI, BLANKS, CARDS AND CUtOULARS, 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 reasons 2 ble terms, ana in a manner not excelled by any establish' ment in the city.. Orders from a distance.'by m&fl or otherwise, promptly attended to. .Address GEO. SANDERSON A SON, Intelligencer Office, : ' , No. 8 N(OTth pßks «swefcLhwM*er, Pa.; may 14 tf IS] No. 44,Canw?fo 1881 ~ 18«. qpksuq op iiv gPßnra good*. _. ‘ , NEW- SPBIRQDBBSS GOODS? Shepherd’a PUldttjOTMT jrarigtr^AjKi.» lug* lot of ™ * a ™“- *• BUT OOHPEOTIOtt, BEST ENGLISH CHINTZES— l®<Moti. BEST HEHBIMAO flffTWragß ng-iT BEST AMEBIOan nnnmi BEST OOCHEOO oniNTiM . BEM PACIFIC CHINTZ ES .... log*— t. BEST SPRAGUE CHINTZES... . .Z_4M{wßtL BEST MOURNING OHINTZBB. ...... Bargs lot of good, hoaryDooutho aiNGHAJa,’t©< sta; Qood Apron Ginghams art Cheek* ISlfeeattiGood Bleftched and Unbleaehed MI7BLXNB, wt*, 12U cento; Cotton Ilennataiiajfcenta.. VS * . ‘ “ * . NOW JS TaBU3> A fall line of BLACK BILKS, cheap. New Btylee of SP&IN& - - ■■ Of ©Tory and qualltr, OPENING 'DAXIaT. WENTZ BBOfc, No; 5 Sort King Street. mar 18 tMO] “ THERE IS NO SUCH WORD AS PAIL." rpARRANT'S Compound EztXAOt or CtTBBBS AND COPAIBA This preparation is particularly recommanded to tho MEDICAL PROFESSION and the PUBLIO, as «>«M»hr in the moat convenient' and efficacious form, the yefl established virtnae and properties of Cnbebs and .Copaiba. For the speedy and effectual relief and core of all BEXUAL DIBE ASKS, it may justly be considered one of the greatest and most valuable discoveries in the • ■onelv of frequently effecting a cure in three.or. four dm,. Xa Its preparation as an extract or a paste,.the usual nauseous taste is avoided, and it is, consequently, never found to interfere with the digestion, while, from Its- greater s on* centration, the dose is mnch reduced. It may be relied on as the beat mode for the administration of these remedies lu the large olass of diseases of both sexes'to which they are applicable. \ -N. B.—Parchasers ate advised to ask for TARRANT’S COMPOUND EXTRACT OF OUBHBB AND , COPAIBA, and to take nothing else—as imitations and worthless preparations, under similar names, are in the market. Pamphlets accompany the medicine, containing fall and ample directions. Price, SLOO. Sent by express on receipt ot price. r Prepared aod sold wholesale and bj TARRANT k GO., No. 278 Oksenwich St&xst, comram or Wab&in StanT, NEW YORK, And For Bale by Druggists Generally. 1862. APRIL. ARRIVAL OP SPLENDID NEW SPRING GOODS A* D E N BROS. 1 Lot of FOULARD SILKS, only 1214 cents. 1 Lot Spring Challie DELAINES, 12£e~ worth 200. 1 Lot Brocha VALENCIAS, Boqua, 26,31, 87140. 1 Lot Super Boqua fiHAt.T.TBfI, only 26c. SHEPHERDS’ PLAIDS, beautiful and good, 26c: All ottr best CALICOES, selling'at 1234 c. 1 Lot Extra Good CALICOES, only 100. l Lot excellent Bonnet and Apron Ginghams, 1234 c. SHAWL AND CLOAK ROOM. New Stock of PRING SHAWLS AND CLOAKS. Beautiful Stella. Shawls. Every day brings something new.” CHOICE BARGAINS OF THE DAT, Opened daily at PHCENIX LOOKING OLABB AHD PICTURE FRAME MANUFACTORY, Nos. 221 East Twbnty-Thied Strut, 178 ahd 176 Gaufa Strret, and' 216 Cxirau Btsur. < NEW YORK. Establishxd 1888. Established 1888. This Establishment bas been In successful operation 24 years, and Is the largest of the kind in the United States. We have on hand, or manufacture to order, every descrip tion of . _ LOOKING GLASS, PICTURE AND PORTRAIT FRAMES. PLAIN AND ORNAMENTAL PIER, WALL, OVAL AND MANTEL GLASSES, CONNECTING CORNICES, BASE. AND BRACKET TABLES, WITH MARBLE SLABS, TOILET GLASSES, Ac, Ac. Mouldings for Picture Frames, In lengths suitable for transportation, either Gilt, Berling, Rosewood, Oak, Zebra, BirJeeye, Mahogany, Ac. Our new Manufactory and ex tensive facilities enable ns to famish any artiole in onro line as good as the best, and as cheap as the cheapest. • 49~ Dealers are invited to call upon ns when they visit New York. We claim to be able to supply them with every article in our line which they can possibly require, at prices lower than they can purchase elsewhere. Orders by mall attended to with promptness. Do not fall to call when you visit New York. Onicz and Wabesooms ; No. 2lfi Centre Sf H Nxw York. HOdAOE V. SIGLER, Agent. mar 25 3m 11] jQR* GOODS AT O I.D PRI CBB WENTZ BROS. Have In store a Urge stock of DOMESTIC GOODS, Muslins, Sheetings, Shirtings, Calicoes, Ac., Worthy the attention of all Housekeepers, and those about commencing. GOOD CALICOES, 10,12%, 16 and 16 cents. Bleached and Unbleached Sheetings and Shirtings, with a large assortment of ■ . HOUSEKEEPING GOODB, Many of them parchased before the adranee In prices. Consequently selling at Old Priets. JUST OPENED: NEW LOT OF BALMORAL SKIRTS, Beautiful Purples—Magenta—Green—Scarlet—Blue. 1 CASE RICH NEW BTTLE DE LAINRS, Selling at the Old Price, 25 cent*. THE WHOLE STOCK OF* DRESS GOODS SELLING OFF AT REDUCED PRICES, To make room for Bpriog Stock. WENTZ BROB., No. 5 Eaat Kingstreet. fob 18 if 6] DRESSLER'S BAIR JEWELRY STORM, No. 206 North B*h Strict abovs-Racjl PHILADELPHIA. On hand and for sale, a choice assortment of superior patterns, and will plait to order ' BRACELETS, EAR RINGS, FINGER RINGS, BREASTPINS, CROSSES, NECKLACES, GUARD AND VEST CHAINS. 49* Orders enclosing the hair to be plaited may he Jest by mail. G ire a drawing as near as you can on papery and eocloae snch amount as yon may choose to pay. Costs as follows: Ear Rings $2 to s6—Breast Pina £3 to s7—Finger Kings 75 cents to s34o—Veet Chains £6 to £7— Necklaces £2 to $lO. - 49* Hair pat into MMalions, Bos Breast Pina; Bines, Ac. OLD GOLD AND SILVER BOUGHT AT FAIR RAXES, opr 16 ly 14 MfflLE. DEROREST'S I UARTERLY MIRROR OF FASHIOINB. GREAT IMPROVEMENTS; THX SUMMER UUMBZS WILL OOSTAtB FOUR LARGE AND SPLENDID FASHION-PLATES. THREE FULL-SIZED PATTERNS, Comprising tbe New French Walst,*n Elegant Sleeve, and a Misses Sack, together with nearly 100 Engravings of all the novelties for Sommer Bonnets, Cloaks, Trimmings, Children’s Dresses, etc., and valuable !ofonuatioiLto.£flilf* ners, Dress Makers, Mothers, and Ladies generally, pre* Benting the largest and best Fashion Magazine in the World published 473 Broadway, New York, and sold everywhere at 25 cts., or sent by mail post free, on receipt of the amount. Yearly $1 with the following valuable premium: Each yearly subscriber wiTr be endtled to the seleetfim of 50 cents worth of plain patterns, from the designs in the book, or from the show-room, or they 4iay be ordered and sent by mail any time daring the year, by paying, the pdataze. 49*8plendld Indocements to Canvassers. SUMMER NUMBER WILL BE READY ON OR ABOUT THE FIRST OF MAT. Hair dressing and shaving saloon. .. SAMUEL J. WILLIAMS takes pleasure in nottfyinghis numerous friends and customers, that he has removed his Saloon from Cooper’s Hotel tothe basement uuderPeter M’Conomy’s Shoe Store, in West King, street, "nr the Mrkefc House, and has fitted it np In new and elegant style for the accommodation of customer*. HAIR DRESSING, SHAVING AND SHAMPOONZNG done in the m st scientific and ftshionable style, and his tensorial operations are performed With the grsatet ease and comfort to all concerned. He will also eolor the hair and Whiskers, and guarantee the colors to be applied without injury to either. Give the Professor a call, and he flatters’him—if that be will be able to render general satisfaction. Don’t make a mistake and get into the sum* A op. Recollect, it is immediately under M’Oonomy’a flhoe Store. apr 15 tf 14] .. . . 8. J. WTT.T.TAMfI. NS W SPRING STY L E S . The undersigned calls special •ftfrr’*"" to * hew and well selected stock of MILLINERY.GOODS. . . of the latest styles, consisting of colored and white Straw Goods of .all kinds sndprteee, bonnet frames to fit every body, French and Amexlßsn Flowers in great variety/ rib bons, quiiUngK/inrm ndirinTi Join bland,, gimp and hair lace,,snfi a great mrfeW of ItonMt Trtmaung% silk, satin, crane and ditferspiktods-of honnet materials, i STRAW A FATOV BQN^gEfl.. UKAI a large auortmentto suit every taste, cape- Qg *Tnp -tietVcrowzt’lloing’Wixe, tnd a articles unnecessary to mention, all of. which I will , sell cheaoer than the cheapest, either wholesaled rebtiL ’ " AjSo, a fine assortment of JSWSLRV and DRY GOODS, on hand, and various Notions, all of which . will be~ sold very cheap. —- Call and examine myrtoefcbefore purchaslngalmwhare. Thankful'fornastfavora/theSubacritdbopee white the patronage of nls old cniCTWa, and many newonttei sprlSmU] - :i ;i P H °n»TiiL it? N<X» WENTZ BROBn No. 6 East King Btreat.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers