£l)c futellMaicet: VOL. LXIII. THE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER. a*.TMw«n xmr TUIBDAT, AT HO. 8 WORTH DUX* STRUT, BY GEO. BA9DEESOH. TEEMS. f . Stosowptioh.—Two Dollars per annum, payable Inad- Taoce. No subscription discontinued until all arrear age* are paid, unless at the option of the Editor. Apvk&THSkswts.—Advertisements, not exceeding one square, (12 lines.) will be Inserted three times for one dollar, aod twenty-five cents for each additional inser tion. Those of greater length in proportion. Jos Peihtiso—Such as Hand Bills, Posters, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, Ac., Ac., executed with accuracy aud on the shortest notice. SNOW AND SLEIGHING. Poets are inspired by snow, just as sedate pedes* trians indulge in merry shouts during snow falls. — Take for instance the following : Now, spirits in white, with footsteps light, Gome trooping down tbe sky—** Like shapes of a dream, or like angels they seem, As they float so airily by. Oh. the winter snow! the winter snow! We loved it once full well! And with childish shout, ringing merrily out, HaiJed tbe fleecy shower as it fell. But now, since we know that under the snow, Hid from tbe light of day, There are treasures fair—treasures most rare, In darkness hidden away; Our gladness is o’er, and we love no more To see tbe snow-fall come ; For a heavy chill, and a sense of ill, It briuga to our heart and home. Oh, the treasures fair! the treasures so rare, Hidden under the snow, Are not the sweet flowers that in summer hours Spt mount and meadow a-glow. Something more bright to oar yearning sight, {Something far dearer than they, Is lying low, under the snow, On this bleak and winter day. If we think with dread of the blossoms dead, Under this covering chill, What a deeper woe must our sad hearts know For that something dearer still! Ob, snow-flake fair! fall light as air— Fall light and soft, I pray, On the treasures we so wildly regret, Buried, and hidden away ! A merrier strain is sung by “Jehu,” in a New York sporting journal: What ho! my boys, turn out, turn out! The morn is light with snow; And everything at Tattersall’s That can, this day must go! Get down the sleighs, rig shafts and poles, {See them put well together; The fancy are afraid of colds, And this is “catching” weather. Shake out the robbs, string all the bells, Foot stoves and straw a plen'y ; And horses range to suit demand, From one to six and twenty. And mind you have ’em: “in” or "out,” When orders come, the “qaeu” Is, “oash alone in sleighing times, Must pul these fast ones through.” Have Patchen ready ’mong tbe first, He’s good for tbe whole day ; But Lady Fanny must be nursed, And ’lowed to have her way. Big Sorrel Tom and Blucher match, “They’ll move along” together; No mutter how tbe runners scratoh, Or slosby gets the weather. THE OLD MOTHER Poor old lady, set her aside— Her children are growD, and her work is doife; True, Id their service her locks turned gray, But shove her away, uosought, alone. Qive her a home, for decenoy’s sake, In some back room, far out of tbe way, Where her tremulous voice cannot be heard — It might check your mirth when you-would be gay, Strive to forget how she toiled for you, And oradied you oft on her loving breast— Told you stories and joined your play, Many an hour when the needed rest. No matter for that—huddle her off; Your friends might wince at her witty jest; She is too ‘-old fashioned,” and speaks “so plain,”— Get her out of tbe way of the coming guest. Once you valued her cheerful voice, iter hearty laugh and her merry song ; to 4, ears polite” they are quite too loud— Her jokea too sharp, her tales too long. 80, poor old lady, hustle her off — la her cheerless room let her sit aloDe ; She must not meet with your guests to-night, Fot her children are grown and her work is done. EUGENE HARTLEY AND I. BY LEONORE GLENN, It was just at the sunset hour of a calm autumn day that .Eugene Hanley waved me adieu from the little steamer moored but a few rods from our cottage. I can remember so well how the setting sun’s rays glistened on the glass of the boat that evening, and how softly they rested on the little ripples of the broad river.— The bell rang and the boat pushed out from shore, every moment widening the gulf between my heart and that of Eugene Hartley. He turned his handsome faoe earnestly toward me as I stood in the door way, nervously pulling to pieces the leaves of the rose bushes that clustered around the door, and, smiling sadly, waved-his hand onoe more, then turned around and walked away. I; watched the boat till it was a mere speck far down the river, and its waves had ceased to wash the pebbled shores, and then 1 felt for the first time that it must be months—ages it seemed to me before I saw that face again. This was the saddest twilight I had ever spent. I sat by my window, watching the moonbeams playing over the water, and listening to the wild screams of the night birds in the neighboring grove till the night was far gone. My heart wept over its loneliness and would not. be comforted. Eugene Hartley and I were to be mar ried in just one year ; yet oh ! what a long time it seemed to live without seeing him even once. He had started down the river several hundred miles, to enter into busi ness for himself, the prospect of which was very flattering. I knew it was best for him to go, and I tried hard_ to reconcile myself to it, but 1 was very young yet, and we had never been apart before. It was well my mind was neairly. wholly taken up by my household oares, or I should have been utterly wretched. As it was, I had but little time of my own, exoept in the evenings, and part of these I usually spent down by the water’s edge, looking as far as I could see down the river, and watohing the reflection of the glimmering stars as they danced over the water, while from above they looked down on me sweetly, almost sadly, I thought, and in listening to the murmur of the tiny waveß that rippled up so softly at my feet. Perhaps it was a foolish whim, but I felt nearer to him while standing there than in any place else, beoause it was there I last saw him. In just a week his first letter came. It was Written on- the boat, and filled with glowing descriptions of the beautiful scenery along the river; of the amuse ments and enjoyments in the evenings; of the pleasant company on board, and finally wound up by telli ig me of his good health, and especially good spirits, and that I must try to enjoy myself while he was away, to make the time fly faster. It was a very cheerful letter, and I felt more light hearted after I received it. The days rolled on, I suppose the same •8 they always had done, but to me they seemed muoh longer. I heard regularly front Eugene every two weeks. He seemed nmoh; pleased with his business, the plaoe and people, and' always wrote encour j agingly. ' , I On! I shall never forget those bright, ; qniet autumn days. It was well that I : enjoyed them so mnoh, for the dark hours came soon enough. I remember I used to wander away sometimes to the grand old woods to think. My soul drank deep in the hashed and solemn music there, and the wild, tempestuous throbbiugs and yearnings were oalmed into a peaceful quiet. I always felt better after a ramble there, and even now I cherish the memory of those hours as among the sweetest of my existence. But the chilling winds and light snowflakes at length ended that pleasure for me, and as 1 had more time than during the summer for amusement, I commenced takiog drawing lessons. I loved it and threw my whole soul into my work, consequently improved rapidly—so my teacher told me at ieast. He was one of the most splendid-looking men I had ever met, and be bad a pleasant, winning way in speaking that made him very agree able. 1 liked him very much, and as I had never had a brother he seemed to fill that place exactly. I remember one after noon he was unusually sad and thoughtful, and after vainly endeavoring to fix his mind on lesson, said— ‘ Put it all away, Edith ; it is no use to try—l oan’t work to-day.’ ‘ Does anything trouble you, Mr. Alli son V I ventured to ask. ‘ I will tell you all about it,’ he re plied ; and taking a miniature from his p oket he gazed at it almost mournfully for a few seconds, and passing it to me said— ‘ Is there not soul there ? I never saw a sweeter, lovelier face.— Without waiting for me to reply, he con tinued— 1 It is two years to-day since Annie Gray died. She was the day-star of my existence, and since her death my foot steps have been without a guide. 1 pray God you may never suffer-as I have done through these two long dreary years. It has been one unchanging round of misery.’ He left soon after, but I could not in terest myself in drawing any longer that day. My sympathies were awakened, and I almost forgot my own loneliness in pity ing his. The next day a letter oame from Eu gene. It was a week after the usual time, but the miniature it contained made amends for the long days of waiting. I would scarcely have known it, his beard was heavier; and for the first time since I had known him he wore moustache. I was a little disappointed. It would have been much pleasanter if he had looked just as he did the evening he went away; but still it was better than none at all. The winter wore on, and I lived almost a!one with my pencil. If I did not receive letters as long, or so often, from Eugene as when he first left, I attributed it to his press of business, as that was his apology nearly every time, though sometimes I could not help feeling somewhat unhappy, I scarcely knew about what. It was on the last day of spring that 1 was to take my last lesson of Mr. Allison, for he could not coutent himself in any place long at a time ; and he had become weary of our quiet place, although he had quite a number of pupils. It was a sad day to me, for I had learned to look upon him as a valued friend ; then he had always had so kind and patient a way in pointing out my defects—l knew I should miss his ever ready hand many times when com mencing a new picture. ‘ Persevere with the instructions I have given you, Edith, and in a year or two, perhaps, I will call and see what progress you have made. Good bye.’ This was about all he said during the entire lesson. He was sadder than usual, and I knew his thoughts were not with the present or living. 1 continued my efforts daring my spare time, and finished—as I thought—some pretty pictures; and so the hours passed by. One day in July, I received a short letter from Eugene, saying it would be an impos sibility for him to return at the stated time, as some one had forged his name to a check, and that he must spend every minute to clear it up. This was a sad dis appointment to me, and it was several days before 1 oould reoonoile myself to the thought at all. I went down to the river shore one evening to listen to the waves. It seemed such a long, long time sinoe he had gone away, yet 1 coaid recollect ex aotly how he looked as he stood on the boat. Suddenly a new idea entered my mind—l would sketch it. So I commenced the very next day. I was a long time at the picture but it served to occupy my at tention. Hurried letters oame irregularly from Eugene, but he almost oeased to speak of his business. He told me to try to have the pioture of the boat departing com pleted by the time he oame back, whioh would be—he scarcely knew when—proba bly some time during the winter. So I worked with renewed vigor. October came, and the sketch was finished and framed. I was very proud of it, for it was the first one I had ever made without a copy. I hung it up just exactly a year from the day Eugene had left. He was to have returned that very day, I took a long walk -through the woods, and eoming baok discouraged and half Bick, I wrote him a long letter into which I poured my very soul. His answer oame—very cool and distant I thought, in comparison to the outpourings of my heart and then he closed by saying: ,‘ J I)oD ’ t write t 0 “O again, Edith, dear ohild, till you reoeivo another letter from me, for I shall be away for some time—how long I oan’t say. lam sorry to deprive you of the pleasure, if it is one, but I oannot avoid it this time.’ I thought this was rather singular, for whenever he had been absent before, he had always urged me to write, so that my letter would be waiting his return. Then I thought, oh, I have it now—he intends to oomo baok and suprise me ; so I was very happy about my work, daily expecting to see him. Bat when weeks ended in months, 1 grew siok in soul and body. I was too proud to write, and so the matter rested. One day a newspaper came to me, ad dressed in a strange hand writing. It proved to be from the oity in whioh Eugene lived. . While looking over the first page I noticed there was heavy ink marks on the inside of the paper. Turning to it, I read with stilled heart, the marriage notice Miss Pauline Phelps, I diti not faint, ; nor ory out, but “ THAT OOUHTBT IS THB HOST PROSPEROUS WHXU LABOR OOKKAHDS IHB OVIiTM- REWARD."- BUCHAHAB. LANCASTER CITY. PA.. TUESDAY MORNING. DECEMBER 16, 1862. from that moment I hated Eugene Hartley. 1 All the pride and fire of my nature were called up, and they sustained me well. With a feeling-of contempt I gathered together his letters and picture, with a few other little gifts, and writing the fob owing wotds sent them baok to him and his bride: ‘ So you are too much of a coward to ; tell me in so many words that you wished : our correspondence to cease I I pity your | weakness. God judge between your heart | and mine, Eugene Hartley.’ I He soon returned mine, with their wed i ding card. Ah 1 he thought he would ; mock me. I threw the whole package in .to the fire. I did not look to see whether | there was any letter or not; I did not j care. Well, months passed on, till they num bered two years. 1 spent my time with my pencil and my own thoughts. I was contented, if not happy, and my pictures showed that my time had not been spent in vain, for my heart was in my work. One day I read in a paper of one Pauline Hartley leaving her husbaud and eloping with a circus player. It seemed that she and her husband had never lived agreea bly together from the first, she having read some old letters of his, written to a lady he had known before he knew her. Ah ! Eugene Hartley; I was avenged. You wrecked your own happiness on the very letter you wrote to wreok mine. I felt that he was indeed having his dark hours now. Not many days after, Mr. Allison came. I was as much pleased as I was surprised, and I took great pleasure in showing him my work, some of which he praised, and some he found fault with. I took up my j old routine of study under his instruction, | and the days glided pleasantly by. He i once asked me how I oame to sketch that , boat scene. I told him all about my ac quaintance with Eugene Hartley in every particular. He did not say much, bat several times I felt embarrassed by meet iDg his gaze fixed steadily on me when I looked up suddenly from my work. And so another year passed. I was very much surprised and pained, one evening, to meet Eugene Hartley faoe to face during one of my walks through the woods. He was very much ohanged, but I knew him in an instant. I turned quickly away, but he implored me to stop one minute. I cannot remember all he said, but the substance of it was about his domestic troubles ; how his wife had left, and since died ; how much misery and re morse he had suffered from his eonduot to me ; how he could not rest till he saw me onco more ; and finally asked forgiveness, and begged to be permitted to take his old place in my affeotions. 1 was so surprised and bewildered I scarcely knew what to do. ‘ I forgive you freely,’ I at length re plied, ‘ but oome to the oottage to-morrow evening, and I will answer your last ques tion ;’ and then I left him. 1 told Mr. Allison every word of the conversation that night ; ho only quietly smiled without saying a word. The next evening Mr. Hartley came, and was shown into the room where the family was sitting with a neighbor—the minister of our place. It was the first time he had darkened the doorway since that quiet hour he left me with so many promises on his lips, four years ago. A few minutes after, Mr. Allison and I entered the room, and Eugene Hartley was the only guest at our marriage. That was my answer; and as soon as the oere mony was ended he silently pressed my haud and left the house. I have never seen him since, though, for the sake of other hours, I hope he may be happy. ‘ The Lord's Na Deaf.’—A poor old man, residing in a Ftfeshire village, was visited one day by the parish clergyman, who had reoently taken a resolution to pay such visits regularly to his parishioners, and therefore made a promise to the wife of this villager that he should call occa sionally and pray with him. The minister, however, soon fell through this resolution, and did not pay another visit to the deaf man till three years after, when, happening to go through the alley in whioh the poor man lived, he found the wife at the door, and therefore could not avoid inquiring for her hnsband. ‘ Well, Margaret,’ said the minister, ‘ how is Thomas ?’ ‘ Nae the better o’ you,’ was the rather curt answer. ‘ How, Margaret ?’ inquired the minis- ‘ Oh ye promised twa years syne to oa’ and pray anoe a fortnigh wi’ him, and ye ance darkened the door syne.’ ‘ Well, well, Margaret, don’t be so short I thought it was not necessary to oall and pray with Thomas, for he’s deaf, you know, and cannot hear me.’ ‘ But, sir,’ rejoined the woman, < the Lord's na deaf’ The indolent clergyman shrank abashed from the cottage. . ■F7 ' A oolored gentleman leotured the other nighs in the Congregational Churoh, of this plaoe, under the auspices of Mr. Barker, on the Equality of the Raoes, and made some good points. Among other things he said—‘ Is de Englishman better dan de Frenchman ? Is de Frenohman better dan de Irishman ? Is de Irishman better dan de German man ? Is de Ger man man better dan de American 1 Is de American better dan de Japanese ? Is de Japanese better dan de Nigger? Who says he is ? I say he ain’t, den de nigger’s just as good as de white man ! Was Moses an Englishman? Who says he was?— Was Moses a Frenohman? Who says he was? Was Moses an Irishman? Who says ho was? Was- Moses a Dutchman ? Who says he was ? Was Moses an Amer ican ? Who says he was ? Was Moses a Nigger ? Who says he wasn’t ? I say he was, and the blackest nigger I ever saw ! Noah had seberal sons. Shorn settled in Europe, Japhet in Asia, Ham populated Afrioa,and de odd>r one, I can’t rekumleot his name, sottled some place else, and was de fadder ob de lost tribes !’ This will o for the present.— Mercer Democratic Register. Western editor having had his last shirt stolen, vents his rage as follows : We would say to the rascal who stole tho shirt off the line while we are in bed waiting for it to dry, that we sincerely hope the oollar will out his throat. r _To this a contemporary adds : Served him right; no business to have a shirt. Such luxuries ! We expeet next to hear of the extravagant fellow aspiring to war stockings and beaver hats. Oh,, the ava rice, the unreasonableness of some folks! From Hill’i TriveTa In Pern and Mexico.. THE DTCA’SDAUGHTER. A PERUVIAN LEGEND. Huasca, the luca of Peru, who reigned at tbe beginning of the sixteenth century, and who was remarkable for bis love of the arts, especially .those connected with the improvement of his capital, proclaimed that whosoever would find means of con veying water with facility to his palaoe and to Cuzco, should receive in marriage bis youngest daughter, then a beautiful girl in the first bloom of womanhood. This offer waß no sooner made, than a yonog man ap peared, called Hassan, who deolared him self capable of performing the great work. He was immediately furnished with as many men, and all the materials, whioh he thought proper to demand, and the work was commenced. While the work, however, was in pro gress, an incident ocourred whioh damped the ardor of the youth for the accomplish ment of what he had undertaken, and seemed to overthrow all expectations of its ever being completed. Among the numer ous attendants upon the workmen for the preparation of their food, and the oare of the camp in which they dwelt, there ap peared a great beauty, who, while attend ing upon her father, was observed by the youthful engineer, who became so violent ly enamored that his attention was distrac ted and turned from the objeot upon whioh his mind had hitherto been bent. He saw that the accomplishment of the work he had undertaken would result in his mar riage with the daughter of the Inca, and this, though accompanied by all the honors the sovereign could bestow, would deprive him of that whioh he valued more than life, and tie him to a bride whom he had never seen, and had now ceased to desire to know. Owing to this state of Hassen’s mind, neglect, languor and disorder reigned in the enoampment of the workmen, whioh at first seemed to every one to arise from a oonviotion on the part of the engineer, that the accomplishment of the work was beyond his power. Some time passed with out any change, during which Hassan had frequent opportunities of meeting the young attendant to whom he had beoome attaohed. This, however, was by and by remarked by the people in suoh a manner as to induce the youog girl to retire and return no more to the oamp—distracting still more the miud of the engineer, who was unable to obtain any further informa tion concerning her. The confusion into whioh everything was now thrown became known to the Inoa, who soon learned also the real oanse of the engineer’s default, and determined to take his revenge by putting to death the subject who had so grossly and so openly insulted his sovereign. The charaoter, however, of the offense was suoh that Hassau was sent for before his execution, and appeared, guarded, in the presence of the Inoa, who sat upon his throne, surrounded by his nobles. Huasca, happening to be a man of moderate passions, asked the culprit, iu the presence of his-nobles, whether he had anything to say before his execution in extenuation of the crime he- had commit ted by treaiing his sovereign with con tempt. To this the young man replied, that he had only to thank his sovereign for all the favors he had received, and more especially for that he- was about to receive, whioh would place him beyond the reach of such suffering as he had endured since he had become acquainted with the innocent cause of his misfortune. At the moment that the Inca was about to commit him to the tender mercies of the executioners, the girl we have mentioned suddenly appeared among the orowd of nobles, dressed as she had been in the oamp of tho workmen, and rushing into the oentre of the hall, exclaimed : ‘ Stay, Inca 1 Arrest the hand of justice for a moment, while I put one question to the unfortunate culprit. It shall be such as the Inca will not disapprove.’ From the moment of this strange ap parition until the demand of the girl, there was not a sound heard. The whole of the nobles present remained motionless and silent. But, had no embarrassment over whelmed them, the presence of their sover eign would have restrained equally their words and their acts. Huasca, who alone seemed unmoved, nodded assent to the de mand of the girl, who now walked up to tho youth, and laying her right hand upon his left shoulder, and standing a little on one side, that his countenance might be well seen by the Inca, said : ‘ Young man of the hills, where the Inoa is ever known, subject to Huasoa, hast thou chosen the child of the vales in preference to the daughter of thy sover eign ?’ To whioh the youth, after steadfastly re garding the Inca, replied : ‘ The will of the great source of light be done. The sentence of the Inca is just.” Then, turning to the girl, he added : ‘ I go now with joy to dwell where I shall await thy oomiDg, to possess thee for ever.” ‘ But wherefore couldst thon not,’ then said the girl, ‘accomplish the work whioh thon hast undertaken ?’ ‘lt had been done,’ said the youth, ‘ had the labor been accompanied with the hope of possessing thee.’ At this reply the young girl, suddenly throwing off her upper garments, whioh had hidden these whioh would have be trayed her true character, and taking the entranced youth by the hand, advanced up to the foot of the throne of the Inca, and exolaimed : ‘ Great father of the ohildren of the sun, I, whom thou lovest as thy self, demand the remission of the sentenoe against the youth, now bound down before three, until it be known whether the great work he had undertaken can be accomplished or not.’ Inoa Huasca, whose affection for his daughter was beyond all other feelings, eleetrified by the oeonrrenoe, signified his assent to the proposal. A few months after this the great aqneduot was complet ed, and the engineer and the princess be came man and wife. (LF* An Irishman oatohing a thief’s hand in his pooket at the Post Office the other day, knocked the rascal down, and began to trample on his caroass as if he were dancing a Fardowner’s jig, ‘ What is that for,’ said a bystander. ‘ Ooh,’ said Pat, ‘it’s Bmall change the fellow wanted and, faith, I’m after giving hime few Post Office Stamps* Giving a Fellow the Sack Liter ally. A green, awkward girl, the daughter of wealthy parents in Arkansas, having come to -, in Massaohnsetts, to be educated, a young dentist, named Brown, oonoeived a notion that his shortest road to fortune would be to maiTy her. But then she was the laughing stoek of the seminary, be oause she was so gaunt, masculine and un dented in her dress, and Brown felt that it would require all his-nerve to stand the ridicule of several of the young pupils with whom he had flirted nntil he was satisfied that they had no money or expec tation of any. However, he consoled himself with the ! reflection that he should speedily obtain i influence enough over her to enable him I to beoome, in a measure, her adviser in the matter of costume, manner, &c. The foremost thought was to amend her long, lank form, by the aid of orinoline, which she had never worn, and his flattery had no sooner secured him a confidential plaee in her good graces, before he ventured to make her a present of a patent skirt or saok, together with a hint to fix up pretty handsomely for a ball, to whioh he had in vited her. The night arrived, the party were 83- sembled, and the Arkansas damsel made her grand entree from the ladies’ dressing room, amid the titter of laughter from the sohool girls and village belles. The hoop sack was shockingly out of shape, project ing in front like the spouting horn of Nahant; but that was nothing to the ex pose it made of her somewhat incongruous blaok hose, the fascinations of whioh were somewhat augumented by yellow rosettes of her white satin slippers (men’s size) encasing her delioate feet. To complete Brown’s horror, her flaxen head and freckled faoe were “ set off” with a pro fusion of green and yellow bow knots, of formidable size, intended to do execution as bean-oatohers. Madder than sixty, the disappointed dentist went through the first dance with her, taking little or no pains to conceal his disgust, and then hurried away to the whist room to escape the compliments and saroastio ridicule of his old flames. The unfortunate partner, who was olear grit, was deeply inoeused when informed of her abandonment, and some of the sym pathizers advised her to “ give him the saok,” i. e., dismiss him at onoe. “I’ll be dodrotted ef I don’t do it ’fore the hull crowd,” she replied in a boiling passion, and making straight for the dressing-room, and followed by a bevy of laughing girls, soon emeiged again with the hoop sack in her hand, and threw it at Brown’s feet. “ Thar, you mean, good-for-nothing shaker out of old snags! Take your old saok and wear it yourself, and ef I ketch you speak ing to me again, I’ll liok ye within an inoh o’ yer life ; you’d better believe it.” Roars of laughter followed this spirited oonduot, and tooth-puller was fain to make his escape. The next day he left the vil lage, and has not returned to it. The Ar kansas girl became a pet, and finally made a very respectable appearanoe in society. To Make a Happy Home. I beard a father the other day—a hale, happy man—praising his boys, four sturdy fellows, who had escaped the dissipation and excitement of a city life, and were now as fresh in heart and as ruddy in face as when they prattled about their mother’s knee. I had seen so much of parental sorrow over sons gone astray, corrupted pbysioally and morally, that I ventured to ask my friend, the happy father, how it was that he had been able to save his boys from the contamination of evil associations and bad habits. ‘ The way is simple enough,’ he said, ‘ neither original nor in any way remarka ble. I keep my boys at home evenings by making their home a pleasanter place then they can find elsewhere. I save then from the temptation of frequenting doubt ful places of amusements by supplying them with better pleasure at home. Many things which I considered improper, or at least as frivolous, I encourage now, be cause I find my sons desire them, and I prefer that they may gratify their desire at home, and in their mother’s presence, where nothing that is wrong will come, and where amusements, which under some circumstances may be objeotionable, lose all their venom, and become innocent, and even elevating. I have found that the danger is more in the conoomitants of many amusements than in the amusements themselves ; that many things whioh will injure a young man in a club, or among evil associates, are harmless when engaged in with the surroundings of a home. As long as children are ohildren, they will crave amusement, and no reasoning can convince them that it is wrong to gratify their desire. When they hear oeitain things denonuced as sinful by those whose opinion they hold in reverence, and are tempted by the ex ample of others who defend them, to dis obey their parents’ wish and participate in them, a long downward step is taken ; parental authority and parental opinions arc held in less reverence : the home that ostracises these amusements becomes a dull and tiresome place ; and, in secret places, among companions, they seek for them until at length conscience is seared, filial feeling overcome, and parents are oompelled to sigh over the lost affeotions and confidence of their ohildren. ‘1 have endeavored,’ said, this father, ‘ to join with my boys, and be a boy with them, in their pleasures. And I do believe thers is no companion they are merrier with, and delight in, more than the old boy. If I think a place of amusement is innocent, and will please them, out we go some evening, mother, boys, girls, and father, and enjoy the world all the more because we are together, and do not go too often. ‘ But we don’t oare to be out from home much. . We have a way among ourselves of keeping up a kind of reading society, and we are apt to get so engaged in the book we are reading, that we feel little like leaving it. We take great care to find a readable book : —useful books, works of travel, essays, good biographies of good men, and the like; then we read them aloud in the evening, when we are all at home from sohool, or store, eaoh taking a turn at the reading. It always looks to me a pretty picture—mother and the girls sewing at the tables, Tom reading aloud from ‘ Tom Brown’s Sohool Dajß ’ —a great book with ns—and myself in dressing gown and slippers at the fire, and Fred and. Willie near at hand. We are all listning eagerly to the; history of the sturdy Tom. Fred is feeling the muscles of his arm, wondering how it wonld compare with that of the young Rnbian. And we are all, to my thinking, a happy, comfortable family. *At half-past nine o,clock I suggest that the time is np; but 1 orn begs to be allowed to finish his chapter, and, nothing loath myself,’ 1 assent. In a few initiates I have my big Bible on my knee, and my speotaoles out, and am reading the fifteenth ohapter of John : * I am the true vine, and my father is the husbandman.’ We sing our evening hymn; to-night I start the good old evening hymn, commencing— ‘ Glory to thee, my God, this night, For all the blessings of the light.” ‘ We kneel together in prayer to the Fath er of all; and then the children are off to bed, and two happy people, my wife and myself, are left to thank God for the many blessings he has granted ns.’ I left this man, with many thoughts and self-oondemnation, determined that day to seo what I could do to make another de lighted family circle. I have begun, and so great has been my success, and so abun dant my reward, in a joyous heart, and a cheerful, trusting family, that I would somo others might try the same. In Tune. —A certain organist was very peculiar as to the nature of his meals, and having gone to ohurch one Sunday without leaving his usual directions, the anxious wife sent her little boy for instructions.— When the boy reached the ohuroh he foand they had oommenoed Te Deum, and fearing to wait until it was finished he orept up to his father, and oommenoed singing inJiis ear, in the treble voioe(soffo voce) “Mother's got a hind quarter of lamb, What shall she do with it?" The organist was rather astonished, but promptly replied in bass : “ Roast tho loin and boil the leg, And make spudding of the suet.” With which message the young'mnsioal genius instantly deoamped. How to Prevent Sore Shoulders in Working Horses. —The Boston Journal says : ‘ The plan we have tried, and never found to fail, is to get a piece of leather and cut it into suoh a shape as to lie snug ly between the shoulders of the horse and collar. This fends off the friction, as the collar slips and moves on the leather and net on the shoulder of tho horse. Chafing is caused by friction and hence this reme dy is quite a plausible one, and is mueh better than tying slips of leather or pads of sheepskin under the collar. r IIHE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER X JOB PKINTING ESTABLISHMENT, No. 8 NORTH DUKE STREET, LANCASTER, PA. The Jobbing Department ia thoroughly furnished with new and elegant typo of every deecription, and 1b under tho 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 and dispatch, on the most reasons’ ble 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. Addrogs GEO. SANDERSON 4 SON, Intelligencer Office, No. 8 North Duke street, Lancaster, Pa. COTTON LAPS, TIE YARN ARC CANDI.K WICK. To the Merchants of I nncaster county. Wo havo on band a goo l a*B’ rtmrnt cf cotton lap.*, TIE YARN, AND CANDLE WICK, which we offer for salg at the lowest cash prices. F. Agent, cct 7 3m 39] Coneatogo Steam Mill No. 1. VfEW FALL AND WINTER 1»1 U.LIN 1' EKY GOOD*.—Tho f-übscriber call* attention to hi now and well selected stock of FALL AND IVI:\- TER MILLINEUY GOODS, whuh bo offers, wh )le*ale or retail, as chotp as they can to pur rh is.d any whore. He tlefiei competition. His r* stock cooridßof Black and Fancy Whets. Silks. Satins, Cr<*pe, Mode, Illusions, JomUoud, Black and White Litce, Edciug. Capenett Crown Lining, Tartle'on, Wire, Hlk a ; d Velvet Ribbon of all o-lnrs and widths, Quilliuga, Frames to fit Ladies of all sizes, and a gioat many other articles u