(£l)c Lancaster fwMlipnM
VOL. LXIII.
THE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER.
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THE DRAFTED WIDE-AWAKE,
I was a glorious Wide-Awake,
All matching iu a row ;
And wore a shiny oil cloth cape,
Aboat two years ago.
Oar torches flared with turpentine,
'And filled the streets with smoke;
And- we were sure, whate’er might come,
Secession was a joke.
0, if I then had only dreamed
The things that now I know,
1 ne’er had been a Wide-Awake
About two years ago.
X said the South would never dare
To strike a single blow;
I thought that they were cowards then,
About two years ago.
And so X marched behind a rail,
Armed with a wedge and maul;
With honest Abe upon a flag,
A boatman gaunt and tall.
0, if 1 then had only dreamed
The things which now X know,
X ne’er had been a Wide-Awake
About two years ago.
My work was good, my wages high,
And bread and coal was low;
The silver jingled in my purse
About two years ago.
Xn peace my wife and children dwelt,
Happy the live-long day,
And war was but the fearful ourse
Of countries far away.
0, if X then had only dreamed
The thiDgß which now I know,
I ne’er had been a Wide-Awake
About two years ago.
My wife sits pale and woeping now,
My low;
X did not think to gb to war
About two years ago.
And no one now will earn their food,
No ODe will be their shield;
God help them when X lie in death
Upon the bloody field!
0, if 1 then had only dreamed
The things which now I know,
1 ne’er had been a Wide-Awake
About two years ago.
One brother’s bones half-buried lie
Near the Antietam’s flow;
He was a merry, happy lad
About two years ago.
And where the Chickahominy
Moves slow towards the sea,
Was left another’s wasted corpse —
I am the last of three.
0, if I then had only dreamed
The things which now I know,
I ne’er had beeu a Wide-Awake
About two years ago.
Just dow I saw my torch and cape,
Which once made snch a show ;
They are not now what once they seemed
About two years ago.
X thought I carried freedom’s light
In that smoky, flaming brand ;
I’ve learned X bore destruction’s torch
That wedge has split the land.
0, if i then bad only dreamed
The things which now I know,
X ne’er had been a Wide-Awake
About two years ago.
THE DOUBLE ROBBERY.
Toward the close of the last oentury
Northumberland and the border were ter
ribly infested by those—to the bucolic
mind—particularly obnoxious specimens
of the genus thief known as 1 rievers,’ or
‘ lifters of cattle.’
Almost all the rascals who followed this
not unlucrative profession trusted chiefly
to mere brute force to carry out success
fully their nefarious schemes. There was,
however, one exception to this rule to be
found in the person of a celebrated free
booter, known as ‘ Dickey of Kingswood.’
This worthy openly expressed his disap
probation of his rivals’ vulgar mode of
following their profession, and repeatedly
boasted that he could achieve twice as
much by his cunning as they could by their
brute force. Nor was this assertion of his
empty boasting—far from it.
In a few years’ time Dickey’s name be
came the terror of the country side. No
farmer felt secure when he retired to rest
at night that his cattle might not have
vanished before morning. ,So cleverly,
moreover, were all Dickey’s enterprises
conducted, that no man could ever suc
ceed in making personal acquaintance with
him. He openly set justice at defiance,
and laughed at the futile efforts of daw to
punish him. Perhaps, however, the best
way to illustrate the adroitness and good
luck which characterized all Dickey’s pro
ceedings will be for me to relate the story
of one of his exploits.
It appears, then, that during the oourse
of his peregrinations through Northumber
land, one fine afternoon, Dickey’s eyes
were gladdened by the sight of a pair of
fine oxen Wibich were quietly grazing in
a J field near Denton Burn, a village dis
tant three miles from Newcastle.
Determined to possess them, Dickey
hung about the’plaee till nightfall, watch
ed where the animals were driven to, and
—his usual good fortune assisting him—
speedily secured his prize. He also con
trived, by the exercise of his accustomed
cunning, to leave such traoes behind him
as made the owner of the oxen certain that
the freebooter had made off toward Tweed.
Thither he accordingly proceeded in hot
haste. In the interim, however, Dickey
had lost no time in ‘ making tracks ’ to
wards the west country, and so expeditious
were bis movements that in a short time he
reached Laneroost, in Cumberland. Here
he fell inwith an old farmer on horseback,
who, being delighted with the appearance
of the oxen, forthwith purchased them.
Dickey was of course rejoiced at getting
rid so pleasantly of a charge which could
not fail to be troublesome—nay, possibly
—to him longer to retain. The
farmer, moreover, was mounted upon a
splendid diare, which Dickey, with his pe
culiar ideas on the subject of maim anu
teum, at once resolved by fair means or
foul, to secure. He therefore willingly
aooepted the farmer’s hospitable invita-
tion to accompany him to his house m
order that they might ‘ crack ’ a bottle of
good wine in honor of their bargain.—
Presently Dickey inquired of the farmer
if he would sell him his mare 1
‘ Sell you my mare ” exclaimed his
host; all aghast at this proposition. ‘ Sell
my mare ? .No, thank you.’ Why, there’s
not her equal in the whole north country !’
‘ I do not doubt it, Mr. Musgrave,’ re
sponded Dickey ; ‘ and from wha.t I saw
of her paces this morning, I am quite of
your opinion that there’s not her equal
within a hundred miles of us; but,’ added
the obsequious Dick, ‘ since you will not
sell her, 1 oan only wish you a long life
and good health to enjoy her.’
'This sentiment was of course duly hon
ored in a bumper.
‘ I hope, Mr. Musgrave,’ next observed
Dickey, ‘ that you keep a close look-out
after your stable door, beoause now, where
that rascal Dickey of Kingswood is allow
ed to be at liberty, a man cannot be sure
but that any fine morning he may find his
stable empty.’
‘Stable! ba! ha!’ chuckled the farm
er. ‘ I think,’ he continued, ‘ that Dickey
Kingswood would find it rather difficult to
steal my mare from her stable!’
‘ Indeed ! where may her stable be sit
uated?’ inquired Dickey.
‘ Her stable ! bless yon, sir !’ answered
Mr. Musgrave, ‘ her stabie is in my bed
room! I’m a bachelor, and so every night
I fasten her to my bed post. I have had
a manger put up for herin the room, and
no music is so pleasant to me as to hear
her grinding her corn all night by my
bedside.
Diokey wsb astounded—-as well he might
be—at such unheard of precautions ; but
disguising his astonishment, he contented
himself by simply expressing to the farmer
his hearty approval of the means he
adopted to secure the safety of his favorite.
‘ 1 suppose you have a good lock upon
your bed room door ?’ was Diokey’s next
‘ feeler.’
‘ Gome with me, and I will show it you,’
replied the unsuspecting farmer.
This was just what Diokey wanted.—
He examined the lock carefully, and soon
satisfied himself that he oould pick it with
out much difficulty. He, however, de
clared to Musgrave that it was ‘just the
right sort of lock ;’ ‘ it couldn’t have been
better in faot; it was quite non-pickable,’
etc.
Again the oup passed round, and after
draining a bumper to their ‘ next merry
meeting ’ Diokey departed.
The old farmer, after his guest’s leave
taking had been completed; carefully went
the rounds of his house, locking doors
and closing windows with all due precau
tion. He then, as usua l , tied his mare to
her accustomed post, retired and was soon
lulled to sleep by the sound of his favorite
grinding her oorn.
So the night wore away. Presently, as
the first gray streaks of day began to ap
pear, Mr. Musgrave awoke, and feeling
very cold and ohilly, looked around to as
certain the cause. To his astonishmont,
he found that all the coverlets had been
taken off his bed and that his blankets had
been spread out upon the floor. For what
purpose? thought Mr. Musgrave. Was
he the victim of some horrible nightmare,
or was he really awake ? Mechanically
his eye glanced to the spot where his mare
should have been. She was not there !
She was gone—stolen ! During the night
some daring thief had broken into the farm
house, had picked the lock on the door of
the bed room, had spread the blankets
over the floor, so that the hoofs of the mare
should make no noise, and ha thus trium
phantly made off with his prize.
Of course Mr. Musgrave roused his
household, and oommenoed a vigorous
search after the thief. It was useless.—
The despoiler had left no traces behind
him, and so Mr. Musgrave was obliged to
return home disconsolate, and to content
himself with venting curses—neither few
nor far between—upon the thief.
In the meantime our friend Dickey —
for his was the deed—was oomfortably
mounted upon Mr. Musgrave’s favorite
mare, and was every moment increasing
the distanoe between her outraged owner
and himself. So great was the speed of
the mare, that by the break of day Dickey
felt himself secure from pursuit. He had
directed his steps to the eastward, and
while crossing Haltwhistle Fell, whom
should he encounter but the veritable
owner of the oxen he had stolen two or
three days before and haa just sold to Mr.
Musgrave !
Dickey knew the owner of the oxen
well, but, luckily for ihe freebooter, that
injured individual did not know him. He
therefore accosted Dickey, and inquired if
he had seen any oxen in the course of his
travels similar to those he described him
self to Dick as being in search of.
‘ Why to be sure I have!’ replied
Dickey ; ‘ with the very same marks as
yon describe, grazing in Mr. Musgrave’s
fields at Lanercost, only yesterday. I was
rather struck,’ he oontinued, ‘by their
appearance, and learned, on inquiry, from
one of his servants, that Mr. Musgrave
had purchased them just yesterday. Un
doubtedly the oxen are yours. I would
advise you to go to Lanereost at once and
claim them.
‘ Certainly I will,’ replied the'other.—
‘ But I am tired with hard walking, and
it is a long way to Laneroost. 1 see you
ride a good beast. Will you sell her?’
After some hard bargaining, terms were
agreed upon, the purchase money was paid
down on the spot, and Dickey and the
farmer separated ; the farmer to seek his
stolen oxen, actually from the very owner
of the stolen mare he was himself riding,
while Dickey proceeded ‘ where he listed.’
The next day the farmer reached Laner
oost and at once recognized his own oxen
grazing in the field. He forthwith rode up
to an elderly man standing near, whom he
judged to he the owner of the field, and
exclaimed :
‘ I say, friend, those are my oxen in
yOur field ! How may you have come by
them ?’
‘ And I’ll be hanged, replied the other,
(after taking a long, astonished look at
the animal on which his questioner was
mounted,) ‘if that’s not my mare you are
riding J How may you have come by her,
pray ?’
Each of course described the person from
whom they had respectively purchased the
oxen and the mare ; and when this was
done, they discovered they had indeed
been ‘ sold ’ by a rogue of no common
order.
So laughable did the joke appear—even
to those who had to ‘ pay the piper ’ in the
affair—that neither party could prevent
breaking out into a peal of merriment
when the particulars were fully disclosed.
It was now clear that the only way to
settle the affair was for each party to take
back his own property. Musgrave was of
course overjoyed at the recovery of his
favorite mare and the Denton Burn farmer
being equally delighted at the recovery of
bi s oxen, it fell out that, in the general
burst of rejoicing, Dickey was allowed to
quietly pocket the sale money of both mare
and oxen.
Whether Dickey ultimately came to an
untimely end, or whether he reformed his
ways, and died, duly ‘ shrived,’ in his own
bed, history telleth not.
Certain it is, however, that to this day
his deeds are 6 household words ’ in many
parts of Northumberland, and the mention
of his name among the peasantry is con
sidered synonymous with ‘ cuteness.’
*©- The wool clip of Ohio will this year
amount to thirteen millions of pounds two
millions greater than the clip of 1881.
“THAT COUNTRY IB THR HOST PROSPEROUS WHBRI LABOR COMMANDS THB BRRATRST RIWARD.”- BUCHANAN.
LANCASTER CITY. PA., TUESDAY MORNING. NOYEMBER 18, 1862.
SONG OF THE DEMOCRACY,
Addressed to Father Abraham.
BY DOU6LAB A. LEVXBIt.
We are coming, Father Abraham, Three Hundred
Thousand strong,
To save you from the clutches of the Abolition
throng.
You’ve heard from Pennsylvania, and from Indiana,
too,
And Ohio has been speaking through her ballot-box
to you!
The sturdy men of Iron, from the Furnace and the
Mine,
With the Boosters and the Buckeye boys, are wheel
ing into line:
They are marohing to the musio of the Union, as of
yore.
And New York is coming after them, Three Hun
dred Thoasand more!
We are marching, Father Abraham, to tbatfamiliar
tune,
With which so oft, in former years, we’ve soared
that same old ooon!
Once more from hill and valley it rings forth with
cheerful sound,
To gladden every household where a loyal heart is
foand.
See! Every star is blazoned on the banner we nn
fold:
For the Union that our Jaokßon saved, our Seymour
will uphold!
To scatter all the Nation’s foes—the Union to restore,
We are coming, Father Abraham, Three Hundred
Thousand more!
We are coming, Father Abraham, and aa we march
along,
We’ll relieve you from the “pressure” of the Abo
lition throng!
You told them that you oouldn’t make a pig’s leg of
its tail,
Aud that against the Comet Papal bulls would not
avail;
They wouldn’t heed your anecdotes, or listen to
your plea—
They swore that White Men should be slaves and
Niggers should be free !
But you need not mind their ravings now, or trem
ble at their roar—
For we’re coming, Father Abraham, Three Hundred
Thousand more!
We are coming, Father Abraham, so oastaway your
fears :
It’s the Democratic “slogan” that is ringing in your
ears !
They pretend to call us Traitors I But we point you
to the blood
That soaks into Virginia’s soil —that dyes Potomao’s
flood —
That stains the hills of Maryland, the plains of
Tennessee;
Such “Traitors,” Father Abraham, this Union loves
to see!
It’s a growing “Traitor” army that is thundering
at your door,
And New York will swell its columns with Three
Hundred Thousand more!
We are ooming, Father Abraham, to vindicate the
laws,
To hold the Starry banner up—to guard the Nation’s
cause 1
Our motto is, “The White Man’s Rightsfor this
we’ve battled long—
For this we’ll fight with sinewy arms, with earnest
hearts and strong —
For this we’ll burst Fort Warren’s bars and crumble
Lafayette—
For this we’ll orush the Nation’s foes, and save the
Union yet!
Thus speaks the North! Oh! Abraham, you’ll heed
its mighty roar,
When New York shall swell the chorus with Threa
Hundred Thousand more!
LOVE AND MORAL COURAGE,
BT AM Y RANDOLPH.
‘ But why don’t you like him, Agatha V
‘ Oh—beoause !’
What philosopher ever solved the mys
tery of this true woman’s reason ? ‘ Be
cause ’ means ten thousand things that
pretty, dimpled lips don’t choose to put
into shape—it means they know why per
fectly well themselves, but won’t tell ; and
not all the coaxing of curiosity can get it
oat of them.
And so pretty Agatha Milne played
with a knot of soarlet roses, whose velvet
petals glowed in her belt-ribbon, and lifted
up her soft hazel-brown eyes with a pro
vokingly absent, unconscious look.
‘ But, Agatha,’ pursued Ruth Ellen
wood, stopping for a moment in her occu
pation of braiding and arranging Agatha’s
beautiful waves of auburn gold hair. I’m
sure I’ve heard you say, again and again,
he was snch a pleasant partner at balls and
parties, and—oh, Agatha, don’t jerk your
head so, or I shall have to braid all these
strands over again.’
‘ Nonsense—that’s no test at all!’ said
Agutha, pettishly, the peach-like orimson
mounting her oheek; what can you tell
about a young man, from a mere ball-room
acquaintance ? Any one can be agreeable
enough to hold, your boquet, or bring yon
an iee-eream ; that is if he knows enough
not to tread on your toes in the polka, nor
to step on your flounces in a promenade.’
‘ I know it,’ said Ruth, ‘ but the ques
tion is ’ —
‘ But the question is,’ interrupted the
imperious young beauty, ‘ how do I know
that Mr. Pitz Aubyn, silver-tongued as he
is to me, with his homage and compliments,
don’t go home and swear at his mother and
sisters ? How do 1 know that Mr. Jen
ning, who has the whole dictionary at his
finger-ends, does not cheat his landlady?
What means have I of ascertaining that
young St. Simons, who is such a graceful
waltzer and agreeable small-talker, does
not finish his evening in a drinking saloon ?
Oh, Buth, we have tests for ascertaining
spuricus dollars and counterfeit bank
notes, but how on earth are we to know a
counterfeit husband, until he is tied to our
apron-strings for life ?’
She laughed as she sprang up to look
for her bonnet, but the long eye-lashes
drooped low with a very suspicious
moisture.
‘ Well,’ said Ruth, caressingly patting
Agatha’s tiny hand, ‘ I’m very, very thank
ful that Providence didn’t make me a beau
ty and an heiress, sinoe it has a tendency to
awake suspicion and distrust. But, Agatha,
in spite of all you have said, I feel firmly
convinced that Charles Stanton is a noble
fellow.’
‘ Very likely,’ said Agatha, lightly ;
‘ but here is Pitz Aubyn, with those splen
did white horses of his, so give me my
shawl.’
r And whither are your footsteps to be
direoted to to-day ?’
‘ Oh, we are going to that private view
of pictures in street, you know.’
And Agatha swept out of the room with
the imperial port of a young queen.
The white lustre of moonlight pouring
down through the oiroular dome of the
frosted glass, gave a life-like glow to the
superb paintings whose gilded frames liter
ally oovered the walls of that vast suite of
apartments. Here and there groups of
absorbed dilettanti moved with subdued
whispers and brandished opera-glasses, as
if it were a forbidden thing to speak above
one’Hjreath in the presence of those fair
landscapes and olassio scenes from history’s
page.
Directly in front of one of the finest
works of art Btood a pair who had uncon
sciously been the object of many a ourious
glance and whispered observation of the
other sight-seers—a tall, stylish-looking
young man, with an old lady leaning on
his arm, whose antique dress of snuff
colored bombazine and oddly-shaped beaver
bonnet occasioned a good many covert
smiles and half-concealed titters from the
various observers.
< 0, by the way, Miss Milne,’ said Fits
I Aubyn, as, in their progress round'the
| rooms, this couple gradually came in view,
‘ yon haven’t seen the greatest curiosity of
all, yet.’ .
‘ Where ?’ said Agatha, laising her
opera-glass.
‘ Yon are mistaken—it don’t hang on
the walls,’ returned Fitz Aubyn, laughing.
‘ Look a little nearer the earth, if you
want to see Stanton and his fossil aunt.’
Agatha turned her head accordingly,
without remark—she smiled a little, how
ever, whioh was all that Fitz Anbyn
wanted.
‘ Should yon suppose any mortal yonth
would have the courage to bring such a
last-oentnry specimen to a place like this,
where he might know he would meet all
his fashionable acquaintances ? Upon my
word, I believe he’ll take her to the opera
next ! See him carrying her morocco bag
and cotton umbrella ! Don’t he remind
yon of Don Quixote in his youthful days?’
‘ Probably she has money to leave one
of these days,’ said Agatha, the distrust
ful element uppermost in her mind for the
moment.
‘ Not a red cent. I know, for I’ve in
quired. She is ‘ in reduced circumstances’
—that’s the term I believe—but Stanton
is very fond of her, nevertheless. She has
eome np to town from the backwoods for a
few days, and ’ —
He paused abruptly as the very pair in
question approached, still absorbed in pic
ture gazing.
‘ My dear Charles,’ said the old lady, at
length, ‘ you oannot imagine what a treat
this is to me—l have not seen such pic
tures as these since I was a child. How
thoughtful of you to bring me here.’
‘ I knew you would enjoy it, aunt.’
‘ And you are not ashamed of your old
fashioned relative among these gay young
people ?’
‘ On the contrary, dear aunt, I am as
proud as a monarch while yon are leaning
on my arm.’
Agatha heard it all, and she also heard
him answer, in reply to the gay ohallenge
of some companion :
‘ Thank you, but don’t reckon upon me
as one of your party at the opera this eve
ning. lam going with my aunt, who is
passionately fond of musio, so yon mast
exouse me for once.’
‘ I told you so 1’ said Fitz Aubyn, in a
sotto voce tone, shrugging his shoulders.
‘Did you ever see suoh a follow as Stanton?’
‘ Never,’ was Agatha’s reply, but it was
so emphatically Bpoken that Fitz Aubyn
started.
And that night, when the oourted beau
ty was brushing oat her luxuriant hail, she
paused many a time and fell into a thought
ful re very.
‘ Moral courage !’ she murmured to her
self. ‘ I have somewhere read that it is
nobler far than the iron resolution which
makes men reckless in battle. I
wonder’—
And there she stopped resolutely.
What a glorious, bracing New Year’s
Day it was ! There had been just snow
enough in the night to form a white glis
tening coat over everything, and afford an
excellent excuse for the merry sleighs that
darted hither and thither with streaming
furs and jingling bells. All the fashiona
ble world was astir—the gentlemen busily
consulting their interminable list of calls,
and the ladies putting the last touches to
their gorgeous toilettes.
There were not many upon that day who
received more adulation than Agatha
Milne, as sho stood like a young empress
in her splendid drawing-rooms, every
mirror flashing back her loveliness. Her
dress was very simple—pink silk edged
around the shoulders with snowy ermine,
and long sprays of jessamine drooping from
her hair ; yet she knew that she had never
been so beautiful as now, as she listened
with languid smiles to the compliments
showered upon her. It was nothing new.
The gilded chandeliers had been lighted,
and the jewelled fingers of the tiny ala
baster clock on the mantel pointed to a late
hour when the peal of the door-bell an
nounced a new incursion of guests, and
M. Fitz Aubyn entered, surrounded by a
gay party of young men.
‘ Good evening, Miss Milne ; surely I
am not too late to wish you the happiest
of all imaginable New Years ! Whom do
you suppose I saw steering in the direotion
of your hospitable mansion just now ? 0,
here he oomes to speak for himself—the
Chevalier Charley Stanton !’
Agatha turned calmly to welcome the
new oomer, and the keenest eye could
searcely have discerned the deeper shade
of oolor that glowed on her delicate
obeek, as he quietly came forward to greet
her.
‘ Pill your glasses, gentlemen,’ exclaim
ed Pitz Aubyn, holding high above bis
head a tiny chalice of engraven Bohemian
glass, brimming with orimson wine, ‘ and
let us drink to the health of our fair hos
tess, Miss Agatha Milne.’
The impromptu toast was received with
general aoolamationss of satisfaoiicn, and
Fitz Aubyn glanced around a second time
to see if all had followed his injunctions,
ere he touched his lips to the glass.
‘ Come, Stanton, no lack of chivalry
here ; where’s your glass ?’
‘ I will drink Miss Milne’s health in
clear iced-water with the greatest pleasure,’
said Stanton, smiling ; ‘ but never touch
wine.’
‘ Never touch wine! and pray why
not ?’
‘ Beoause it is against my principles,’
said Stanton, with quiet firmness.
Fitz Aubyn curled his lips iu contemp
tuous silence, that was several degress
harder when a young man leaped forward
to interpose his word.
‘ Offer it to him yourself, Miss Milne ;
surely he oannot be so lost to all sense of
gallantry /as to refuse it from your fair
hand.’ r
Agatha had grown very pale, but with
out speaking she filled one of the tiny
goblets, and held it towards Charles Stan
ton.
‘ Will you not take it from me ?’
Stanton looked at her with oalm gra
vity.
‘ Miss Milne, I should be a coward in
deed did 1 allow your persuasions to sway
me from the fixed principles whioh are the
guiding stars of my whole life.’
He bowed and withdrew. The glass
fell from Agatha’s hand, and shivered into
a thousand sparkling fragments ; she bit
her soarlet lip until the blood started, with
a strange sympathetic thrill of exultation.
Had he wavered for an instant in his de
termination, she would have despised
him. '
* A very poor investment, those horses
of mine, and all this behavior o-/a-good
boy in story books,” muttered Fitz Aubyn,
about four weeks subsequently, as he strode
into the brilliantly illuminated saloons of
the Club House. ‘ Here, waiter, a glass
of brandy and water—quiok!’
‘ What’s the matter, Fitz ? You look
as black as a thunder oloud,’ observed a
by-stander, who was leaning against a
marble pillar and picking his teeth in a
most leisurely and epionrian manner.
‘ The matter ! Do you remember that
magnificent Agatha Milne, the Queen of
all the Beauties ?’
‘ Of course 1 do ; she hasn’t lost her
wits nor her property, I hope ?’
‘ No ; but I’ve lost the latter item pretty
effeotnally. VVho do you suppose she is
going to marry ?’
‘ 1 am sure I cannot gness. Do tell
your news at once, and don’t keep a fel
low in suspense in this sort of way.’
‘ Well, she is going to become Mrs.
Charley Stanton ; aotually going to marry
a man with a fossil aunt, and principles
that wont allow him to drink a glass of
wine ! Bah 1 the humbug that passes cur
rent in this world.’
‘ i could have prophesied as much be
fore,-my dear boy, if you would only have
done me the honor to listen to me,’ ob
served the other, coolly unfolding the
newspaper, so asi to get at the inside
columns.” ‘ You gay, dashing yonng fel
lows are all very well as long as a girl
wants to amuse herself ; hut when it oomes
to a lifelong question, she’s apt to prefer a
safe man for her husband.”
Fitz Aubyn groaned deeply, bat con
sidered his position too precarious to be
worth arguing.
Meanwhile little Ruth Ellenwood was as
busy as a bee working at her cousin’s wed
ding robe of spotless white satin, and ask
ing ten thousand questions, the final of
which always was :
‘ But, Agatha, you never would tell me
why you didn’t like him, and now you are
just as bad. Tell me, that’s a darling,
why you ohanged »our mind?’
And Agatha only laughed and crimson
ed, and made the same old provoking
answer :
‘ Oh —because /’
Valter and Us Continue Our Valk.
IN WHICH WE FIND SMILES AMONG TEARS,
AND HAPPINESS WHERE WE HAD NOT
LOOKED FOR IT.
People never know how to be happy, my
boy. There is not one of God’s living
images but has anchored in his heart a
boat which braves out, and tosses upon
life's roug i sea, waiting as it rocks and
pitches, for a full freight of happiness, at
some future day. That is the failure,
Valter. We ever look ahead for some day,
when care, trouble and sorrow shall be
banished. That day will never come on
earth, my boy. We may look ahead—the
morrow may be g'olden—till the morrow
comes. As we valk along this road, away
from the dusty city, you and us can talk
quietly over these matters. We can talk
of little things unnoticed by those who are
in great haste to finish this book—for one
they know not of.
The tree which spreads it branches out
as a mother holds her hands to the tottling
infant,seeming to ask us to be seated under
its leaves, looks inviting, but its trunk is
covered with bugs and ants. The beauti
ful green leaf, which toys with the evening
breeze, bears on its under surface insect
cities which will hasten its fall. The limb
above us is half decayed, though the foliage
thereon is yet green and fresh. The little
white stone at our feet is the roof for ugly
worms and beetles. The rose which laughs
at its escape from yonder hedge—the rose
which looks so sweet, has in its centre
leaves a score of little bugs. The lovely
dahlia, so beautiful in its delicately tinted
variegation is without fragrance. The
handsome oil painting, on close examina
tion seems like a daub, made by amateur
hands.. The crimson cloud seeming to be
hanging from Heaven to kiss earth, as a
lover hangs by one hand over the ban
nister to kiss the lips so sweet to him, are
no different from the morning banks of fog*
only as reflecting the sun’s rays. The
pearly stream singing by us is often roiled,
and its bed is the home of reptiles. The
finest hair of your head, my boy, is in re
ality like the cylinder to a threshing ma
chine. The mysterious photography, on
close inspection reveals all the imperfec
tions of the face of the setter. The rust
ling silk has yawning stiches to mar its
beauty. T.be wished for country has its
dark side—the thronged city sees more
misery than pen or tongue can tell.
On everything, my boy, the destroyer
has set his seal. There is nothing perfeot.
Still we can make the most of what we
have. We oan valk along through life—
passing by the dark scenes—lingering to
day by those of beauty, of joy and love.
If to-morrow brings others, well and good.
If not, the bappioess we find to-day is
clear gain. We must learn to take the
bitter with the sweet. Roses grow on
brambles. Flowers of beauty and frag
rance spring from the most neglected
places. There is joy and happiness every
where, if we do not look for too much at
a time. Some of these evenings, Valter,
you and us will sit quietly down, and by
ourselves have a picture of happiness. Not
now my boy, but very soon.
The morning sun is the most pleasant.
Its hot, mid-day beams are not what we
want. Full rays of happiness bring more
misery along than we can endure. Let us
be thankful for what we have, and all will
be well. Eojoy the present —hope for the
future. The hour may look dark—there
is light beyond. Be happy while you oan.
When in the house, do not put your head
out of the window, to see how hard the
blast is piping. Keep still and thank Grod
you are safe for a moment —if no longer.
Borrow no trouble. It will be left at your
door as fast as you oan nse it. The ioe
man calls in the morning, and leaves the
oold crystal, in small or large eakes, as
you use. Time leaves eakes, ohneks and
blocks of trouble in the same way. Daily
he leaves them. loe is no colder—ice will
not melt quicker, if you but leave it out
of doors. If you have no nse for trouble,
do not go or send out for it, my boy. Let
it lie and melt. Lie and melt is a good
idea, Valter. Let it waste itself in the
ground—and, in time, green will be the
grass rich and varied the flowers which will
spring forth to be called by our own hands.
Every man iB monareh in his own heart.
In his own eastle, the king can be safe—
in his bat, the ocoapant oan bar the door,
and none bat bidden guests can enter. So
oan you and ns do, my boy, with the door
jof our hearts. Admit none bat friends—
l shut out trouble and he happy. We get
j the strength of tea by steeping, so do we
feel the nightmare of sorrow by brooding
and worrying over tronble, either real or
| imaginary. ; Grief seid m kills true
friends never desert you. Leeches quit
| when they have sacked their fill of blood.
■ So, many friends desert you when they
' know your troubles. If you would ride
' safe, be your own driver. Never trust the
| reins with another. Then yon can go
! singing on yonr way, and be happy. If
I you wish one to ride with yon, ask not the
! first one you overtake, exoept you know
I who it is. Perhaps you will wish to ride
alone. Better go a thousand miles to find
i a friend ! than take in one who is not.
Look around us, my boy. Look ahead
to the work of life, with heart and nerve.
Then all troubles vanish. Look back and
you will see a thousand incidents in life—
now sabred to memory—the unoared for
and almost unnoticed. They were mo
ments of happiness studding the dome of
life, as the golden headed bolts stud the
floor of God above us, and glisten in mys
terious tremor while we sleep. We pass
them daily, little dreaming the fact, as the
traveler passes parallels of the meridian—
to look baok and see them far in the past.
We can look back and see how muoh we
missed in not knowing whioh were our
happy moments —and, my boy, we oan
also in retrospeot wonder, and wonder how
little troubles oould have worried us so in
the days or hours thereof.
The trouble is, my boy—we think every
one is happier than ourselves—every one
has more money in his pocket than we have
in ours—more comfort by the family
hearth than we enjoy, while the truth is
that not one in ten are as happy as our-
Eelves, or get through the world with as
little trouble. The breeze might have
been a hurricane—the shower a hail storm.
The friends we at times lose were never
good ones, or they would not fall off as do
rose leaves, themselves worthless, while
the pod with the germ of so many beauti
ful flowers remains. Valter, just think if
you are not much happier than you thought
you were. —La Crosse Democrat.
Child and Woman. —What is there in
the glance of a yonng girl ? Nothing and
everything—a mysterious abyss, half open,
then suddenly olosed. There is a time
when every yonng girl looks thus. Woe to
him upon whom she looks ! This first i
glance of a soul which does not know itself, |
is like the dawn in the Bky. It is the
awakening of something radiant and un
known. Nothing oan express the danger
ous charm of this unlooked-for gleam which
suddenly suffuses adorable mysteries, and
which is made up of all the innooence of
the present and all the passion of the fu
ture. It is a kind of irresolute lovingness
which is revealed by chance, and which is
waiting. It is a snare which innocence
unconsciously spreads, and in whioh she
catches hearts without intending it, and
without knowing it. It is a maiden glanoiDg
like a woman. It is rare that deep reverie
is not born of this glance wherever it may
fall. All that is pure and all that is vestal,
is concentrated in that celestial and mortal
glance, which more than the most studied
ogling of the coquette, has the magic pow
er of suddenly forcing into bloom in the
depths of the heart this flower of the shade,
.full of perfumes and poisons, which is call
ed love. The glances of women are like
certain peacefully really formidable ma
chines. You pass them every day quietly,
with impunity , and without suspioion of
danger. There comes a moment when
you forget even that they are there. You
eome and go,you muse, and talk, and laugh.
Suddenly you feel that you are seized 1 It
is done. The wheels have caught yon, the
glance has captured yon. It has taken
you, no matter how or where by any portion
whatever of your thought which was trail
ing through any absenoe of mind. You
are lost. You will be drawn in entirely
A train of mysterious forces has gained
possession of you. You struggle in vain.
No human succor is possible. Yon will be
drawn from wheel to wheel, from anguish
to anguish, from torture to torture. You,
your mind, your fortune, yi ur future, your
soul ; and you will not escape from the
terrible machine until, aooording as you
are in the power of a malevolent nature or
a noble heart, you shall be disfigured by
shame or transfigured by love.— Victor
Hugo.
qiHE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER
_L 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,
CARDS 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 aDd dispatch, on the most rea&ona:
bie terms, and in a manner not excelled by any establish
ment in the city.
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.
XT AW INGEN * SNYDER,
V DESIGNERS AND ENGRAVERS <JN WOOD,
N. E. Cobsee sth a»d Chestnut Streets,
PHILADELPHIA.
Execute all kinds of WOOD ENGRAVING, with beauty,
correctness End despatch—Original Designs furnished for
Fine Book Illustrations —Persons wishing Cuts, by sending
a Photograph or Daguerreotype, can have views of
COLLEGES, CHURCHES,
COTTAGES, STORE FRONTS,
PORTRAITS, MACHINES,
STOVES, PATENTS, to.
Engraved as well as on personal application.
FANCY ENVELOPES, LABELS, BILL HEADINGS,
SHOW BILLS, VISITING, BUSINESS and other CARDS,
engraved In the highest style of the Art, and at the lowest
prices.
For Specimens of Fine Engraving, see the Illustrated
Works of J. B. LIPPINCOTT t Co., E. H. BUTLER t Co.,
Ac., Ac. feet 23 ly 41
“ THERE 18 NO SUCH WORD AS FAIL.”
JARRANT’S
Compound Extract or
a ÜBE B 8 AND COPAIBA
This preparation is particularly recommended to the
MEDICAL PROFESSION and the PUBLIC, as combining,
in the most convenient and efficacious form, the well
established virtues and properties of Cnbebs and Copaiba.
For the speedy and effectual relief and cure of all SEXUAL
DISEASES, it may Justly be considered one of the greatest
and most valuable discoveries in the annals of medicine,
frequently effecting a cure in three or four days. In 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 <on
centration, the dose is much reduced. It may be relied on
as the best mode for the administration of these remedies
in the large class of diseases of Doth sexes to which they
are applicable.
N. B.—Purchasers aie advised to ask for
TARRANT’S COMPOUND EXTRACT OF CUBEB3 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, $l.OO. Sent by express on receipt
of pried.
Prepared and sold wholesale and retail, by
TARRANT A CO
No. 278 Grirnwich Strut, corner or Warrxn Strut,
NSW YORK,
And Tor Bala by Druggists Generally,
apr 23 lyW
THK HORACES WATERS .ttODKBS
IMPROVED OVERSTRUNG BASS FULL IRON- 1
FRAME PIANOS
are justly pronounced by the Press and Music Masters to
be superior Inatrumonts. They are built of the best and
most* thoroughly seasoned materials, and will stand any
climAte. The tone is very deep, round, fuU and mellow;
the touch elastic. Each Piano warranted for three Tears.
Prices from $175 to $7OO.
Opinions op thc Press.—“ The Horace Waters Pianos are
known as among the very best. We are enabled to speak
of these instruments with some degree of confidence, from
personal knowledge of their excellent tone and durable
quality.”— Christian Intelligencer,
$ 1 5 0 .—NEW 7-OCTAVE PIANOS in Bosewood casea,
iron frames, and overstrung bass, of different makers, for
$150; do., with mouldings, $160; do., with carved legs and
Inlaid nameboard, $175, $lB5, and s2uO; do., with pearl
keys, $225, $250 and $300; new octave, $185; do* 6%-
octsve, $l4O. The above Pianos are fully warranted, and
are the greatest bargains that can be lound In the city.
Please call and see them. Second-hand Pianos at $26, $4O,
$5O, $6O, $75, and $ll)U. * «-
THE HORACE WATERS MELODEONB>
Bosewood Cases, Toned the Equal Temperament, with the
Patent Divided Swell and 8010 Stop. Prices from $B5 to
$2OO. Organ Harmoniums with Pedal Bass, $250, $276 and
S3UO. School Harmoniums, $4O, $6O, $BO and $lOO. Also,
Melodeous and Harmoneuma of the following makers,
Prince 4 Co’u, Carhart <t Needham, Mason A Hamlin, and
S. D, 4 H. W. Smith, all of which wiU be sold at extremely
low prices. These Melodeons remain in tone a long
Each Melodeon warranted for three years.
A liberal discount to Clergymen, Ohorches,
Schools, Lodges, Seminaries and Teachers. The trade
supplied on the most liberal terms.
THE DAY SCHOOL BELL
35,000 COPIES ISSUED.
A now Singing Book for Day Schools, called the Day
School Dell, is now ready. It contains about 200 choice
songs, rounds, catches, uuetts, trios,, quartetts and chor
uses, many of them written expressly for this work, be
aides 32 pages of the Elements of Mublc'. The Elements
are so and progressive, that ordinary' teachers will
find themselves entirely 'successful in instructing even
young scholars to sing correctly aud scientifically; while
the tunes and words embrace such a variety of lively, at
tractive, and soul-stirring music and sentiments, that no
trouble will be experienced in inducing ail beginners to
go on with zeal in acquiring skill in one of the most
nealth-giving, beauty-improving, happiness-yielding, and
order-producing exercises of school, liie. In slmpllcty of
its elements, in variety and adaptation of music, aud in
excellence and number ot us sougs, original, selected,.and
adapted, it claims by much to excel all competitors! It
wiU be found the beat ever issued lor seminaries, acade
mies and public schools. A lew sample pages of the ele*
meats, tunes and songs, are given in a circular; send and
get one. It Is compiled by Horace Waters, author of
*• Sabbath School Dell,” Nos. 1 aud 2, which have had the
enormous sale of 735,G1ib copies. Prices—paper cover, 20
cents, $l5 per 10U; bound, 30 cents, $22 per 100; doth
bound, embossed gilt, 40 cents, $3O per luO. 25 copies fur
uisheii at the 100 price. MailiMl at the retail price.
HORACE Waters, Publisher,
481 Broadway, New York.
SABBATH SCHOOL BELL No. 2.
85,000 COPIES ISSUED.
It Is an entire new work of nearly 200 pages. Many of .
the tunes and hymns were written expressly lor this vol-
ume. It will soon be as popular as its predecessor, (Bell
No. 1) which has tun up to the enormous number of 650,-
OUO copies—outstripping any Sunday school book of its
size ever i-sued in this country. Also, both volumes are
bouud in one to accommodate schools wishing them in
that lorm. Prices of Bell No. 2, paper covers, 15 cents, $l2
per 100; bouud, 25 cents, $lB per 100; cloth bound, em
bossed gilt, 30 cents, *23 per 100. Bell No. 1, paper covers,
13 cents, $lO per 100; bouud, 20 cents, $lB per 100; cloth
bouud, embossed gilt, 25 cents, $2O per hundred. Bells
Nos. 1 aud 2 bouud together, 40 couts, $3O per 100, cloth
bound, embossed gilt, 50 cents, $4O p«r luO. 25 copies fur
nished at the luO price. Mailed at the retail price.
HORACE WATERS, Publisher,
481 Broadway, New York.
NEW INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC.
President Lincoln’s Grand March, with the best Vignette
of his Excellency that has yet been published; music by
Ilelmsmuller, leader of the 22d Regiment Band, price 50
cents. Our Generals’ Quick-Step, with vignette of 35 of our
genera]*; music by Oralulla, leader oi the 7(h Regiment
Band, . i) cents. Tim Seven Sods’ Gallop, and Laura Keene
Waltz, 35 cents each. Comet Schotiiecbe, 25 cams; all by
Baker. Mu*ic Box Gallop, by Herring, 35 cents. Union
Waltz, La Gmssa, 25 ceut-i. Volunteer Polka, Goldbeck,
25 cents. Spirit Polka; General Scott’s Farewell Grand
March, 25 ceuts each ; Airy Custles, 30 ceuts, all by A. E.
Parkhurst. Freedom, Truth and Right Grand March,
with t-plendid vignette; music by Carl Heinemaa, 50 cts.
All of which are line productions.
NEW VOCAL MUSIC
1 will be true to thee; A penny for your thoughts; Lit
tle Jenny Dow; Better times are coming; I dream of my
mother and my borne; Merry little birds are we, (a song
for children;) Slumber, my darling, Lizzie dies to-night,
Jenny's comiug o’er the gre*n; Was my Brother in the
Battle, aud Why have my loved ones gone, by Stephen 0.
Foster. Shall we know each other there? by the Rev. B.
Lowry. PleaaaDt words for all, by J. Roberta. There is a
beautiful world, by I M. Holmes. Price 25 ceots*each.
Freedom, Truth and Right, a national song and grand
chorus; music by Car) Heinemunn, with English and Ger
man words, 30 cents. Where liberty dwells is my country,
Piumley. Forget if you can, but forgive; I hear sweet
voices s-iuging, aud Home is home, by J. R. Thomas, 30
ceuts each. These songs are very popular. Mailed free at
retail price.
Foreigu Sheet Music at 2 cents per page. All kinds of
Maeie merchandise at war prices.
HORACE WATERS, Publisher,
481 Broadway, New York.
NEW MUSIC FOR THE MILLION,
IN CHEAP FORM, ABEANOED AS QUARTETTES AND GBOBUSXS V 0
MUSICAL SOCIETIES, CUC-IKB, SUNDAY SCHOOLS,
PUBLIC SCHOOL-*, SEMINARIES, ETC.
Shall we know each other there; Shall we meet beyond
the river? Be in time; There is a beautiful world; Don’t
you hear the Angels comiug; Where liberty dwells is my
country ; Freedom, Truth aud Right, (national songs.) Is
there a laud of love? Sorrow shall come again no more.
Price 3 ceuts, 25 ceuts per doz., $2 per 100. Postage 1 cent.
In sheet form, with Piauo accompauiment, 25 cents.
Published by HORACE WATERS, 481 Broadway, New
Yorkf aud for sale by N. P. Kemp, Bostou ; Cbas. S. Luther,
Philadelphia; G. L’roasby, Cincinnati; Tomlinson A Bros.,
Chicago, and J. W.Mclntyre, St. Louis. july 29 6m 29
JRADE SALKS I TRADE SALKS I I
The subscriber, having just returned from the Philadel
phia Trade Sales, offers at the lowest prices all kinds of
Books, embracing LAW, FICTION, MEDICAL, RE
LIGIOUS, BIOGRAPHY, MECHANICAL and other kinds.
These books will be sold at the lowest priceß, as we had
the advantage and were the only Bookseller from Lancas
ter at the Trade Sales, and, as a consequence, we can sell
lower than any other Store. A few of the Books are here
mentioned :
WEBSTER’S UNABRIDGED DICTIONARY,
WORCESTER’S UNABRIDGED DICTIONARY,
SOLDIERS’ TEXT BOOKS,
REVISED ARMY REGULATIONS,
McClelland bayonet exercises,
U. S. INFANTRY TACTICS,
ZOUAVE DRILL BOOK,
GIFT BOOKS OF ALL KINDS,
PHOTOGRAPHIC ALBUMS,
For the Pocket or Centre Table, in great variety. The
GIFT BOOK tor the season.
SCHOOL MAPS, CHARTS AND CARDS,
PELTON’S OUTLINE MAPS,
SANDERS’ ELOCUTIONARY CHART,
SAN DERh’ SCHOOL CARDS,
SERGEANT’S SCHOOL CARDB,
WEBB’S SCHOOL CARDS.
BIBLES In great variety, from twenty-five cents to
twenty-five dollars, some of them having the finest bind
ings aud illustrations ever received iu town.
SUNDAY SCHOOL BOOKS—Methodist, Lutheran,
Episcopal, Presbyterian, American Tract Society, Ameri
can Sunday School Union.
SCHOOL BOOKS—Sanders’, Towers’, Bergeant’s, Wil
son’s, Parker A- Watson’s Readers ; Monteith’s, Mitcbel’s,
Warren’s, Smith’s Geographies. Also, Algebras, Arithme
tics, Grammars, Histories, Dictionaries, Ac. Stationery,
Copy and Composition Books, Cap, Note and Letter Paper.
Blank Books, Slates, Lead and Slate Pencils. Pens and
Holders, Ink and Ink Stands, Rulers, Envelopes. The best
Inks in the market are sold here, viz: Maynard A Noye’s,
Arnold’s, Uoover’s, Laugblings A Bnshfleld’s, Blackwood's,
etc. At the Cheap Book Store of
JOHN BHEAFFER,
nov 12 If 441 No. 32 North Queen St., Lancaster, Pa
CUR 1* YOUR HAIR!
BEAUTIFY YOURB-KLF,
BY USING
CHAPPELL’S HYPERION FOR CURLING THE HAIR.
The Ladies and Gentlemen throughout the world will
be pleased to learu that I have recently discovered an
article that will Curl the Hair.
By using CUAPPKLL’S HYPERION, Ladies'and Gentle
men can beautify themselves a thousand fold.
CHAPPELL’S HYPERION is the only article in the
world that will Curl straight Hailr. The only article that
will Cnrl the Hair IN BKAUTIFOL CURLS l
IN GLOSSY CURLS I
IN SILKEN CURLS!
IN FLAXEN CURLS
IN FLOWING CURLS!
IN WAVING CURLS
;IN LUXURIANT OURLB
It makes the Hair soft and glossy. It Invigorates the
□atr. It beautifies the Hair. It cleanses the Hair. It
has a most delightful perfame.
It preveuts the Hair from falling off; it fastens it to the
scalp. It is the only article ever yet discovered that will
curl straight Hair in beantifal carls, withoat injury to the
Hair or scalp.
The HYPERION does not in any manner interfere with
the
NATURAL SOFTNESS OF THE HAIR.
It neither scorches nor dries It. The HYPERION can be
so applied as to cause the Hair to carl for one day, or for
one week, or for one month, or any longer period
The HYPERION is the only article in the world but
what can be counterfeited or imitated by uprinclpled per
sons. To prevent this, we do not offer it for sale at any
Druggist’s In the United States.
Therefore, any Lady or Gentleman who desires to
beautify themselves by using the HYPERION, must in
close the PRICE, ONE DOLLAR, in a letter, and
Address, W. CHAPPELL A CO.,
Box 64, Parkman, Geanga Co., Ohio,
And It will be carefully sent bv return
nov 12 ly 44
DRESSIjBR’S
HAIR JE IV ELRT STORE,
No. 206 North Bth Strkkt asovs Kaos,
PHILADELPHIA.
On hand and for sale, a choice assortment of superior
patterns, and will plait to order
BRACELETS,
EAR RINGS,
FINGER RINGS, .
BREAST PINS, a
GROSSES,
NECKLACES,
GUARD AND
' TEST CHAINS*
Orders enclosing the hair to be plaited may be sent
by mall. Give a drawing as near as yon can on paper, and
enclose such amount as you may choose to pay.
Costs as follows: Ear Rings $2 to $8 —Breast Pins $8 to
$7— Finger Rings 75 cents to s3^o—Vest Chains $6 to $T—
Necklaces $2 to $lO.
49* Hsir put into Uedalions, Box Breast Pins, Rings, Ac.
OLD GOLD AND BILVER BOUGHT AT PAIR RATES,
apr 16 ly 14
TATTERSAXIi’S HEAYKPOWDKR
Powdered Rosin, Antimony, Fennigrfeec, Sulphur
Saltpetre, Assafretlda, Alum, Ac. Tor sals at -
apr 21 tf 14 THOMAS ELLHAKXB*
Drug and Chemical Store, West Klsg
NO. 46.