-- • - . . .._ .. .... ._ . _ .. . ... . : ..,.--.. ,',.1 - ."2;.:,'1,. -, : . -:., _- ~', '- . . - -* ' . •- ' ' . - . .. ... . . • . . .. . .. _ . . . , . . ... . . . ~ .(i.?!.?..1.C., . .nf...., : , - . . • ~ . ~,. •• ~, ...I_ ,. a : ~ 11 •.• • - - ' • .. . .."...., a • . _ .. . . . _ .:'9 =sr 1.: 7c , "T. %act ' . • ' _ 11111111111 V ~ . i, • •C , . i fl 7 ,':, 7 - . " . • ' - , - 0!".. - ... w.ima rs 3 , . . . . . . , • '•.. . . . . l Imo. Y ._' VOL. LICIT DIEM... LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER / AMISS TUIRDAT. AT NO. 8 NOSIM DIMS mum, : . r!•Blr GEO. BANDEELIOIB.4 TERMS. nasoarei iort.—"fwo Dollars per annum, .payable in ad - vino& 'No gmbecription discontinued tllitiVall arrear ages er paid, artless at the option of the Editor. Arrnialerstanats—Advertisements; not' efeeeding one - square, (12 liana) will be Inserted three times for one dollar, and twenty - five cents for each additional liner . " Those of greeter length in proportion. - 0 8 Past eta—Such as Hand Bills , Poster!, Pamphlets, Bialiks,.lisbels, &c; &c., executed with accuracy and on the shoeteert notice. "Give Me Three Grains of Coro, Mother." Inart . old number of the Boston Traveller we find the following verses, from the pen of. Mrs. A. M• Edmonds. The Traveller says : " The above words were the last request of an Irish lad to his mother, as he was dying from starvation. She found three grates in the corner of his ragged jacket and gave them to him. It was all he had : the whole family were perishing from famine : (live me three grains of corn, mother, Only three grains of corn, It would keep the little life I have Till the coming of the morn. I am dying of hunger and cold, mother, • Dying of hunger and cold, And half the agony of such a death, My lips have never told. It has gnawed at my heart like a wolf, mother, A wolf that is fierce for blood, All the livelong day and the night beside, Gnawing for 10$ of food. I dreamt of bread in my sleep, mother, And the sight was heaven to see ; I woke with an eager, famishing lip, But you had no bread for me. How could I look to you, mother, How could I look to you, For bread to give your starving boy, When you are starving too? For I read the famine in your cheek And in your eye so wild, And I felt it in your bony hand AB you held it on your child. The Queen has land and gold, mother, The Queen has land and gold; While you are forced to your empty breast A skeleton babe to hold— A babe that is dying of want mother, As I am dying now, With a ghastly look in its sunken eye, And famine upon its brow. What has poor Ireland done, mother, What has poor Ireland done, That the world looks on and sees no starve, Perishing one by one? Do the men of England care not, mother, The great men and the high, For the %Faring eons of Erin's Isle, Wheth they live or die? There is many a brave heart here, mother, Dying of want and cold, While only across the channel, mother, Are men that roll in gold. There are rich and proud men, there, mother, With wondrous wealth to view, And the bread they fling to their dogs to-night Would give me life and you! Come.near to my side, mother, Come near to my side, And hold me fondly as you held My father when he died. Quick, for I cannot see you, mother, My breath is almost gone; Mother! dear mother! ere I die, Give me three grains of corn! 1N THE OLD CHURCH TOWER In the old church tower Hangs the bell, And above it on the vane, In the sunshine and the rain, Cut in gold, Saint Peter stands, With the keys in his two hands, And all is well! In the old church tower Hangs the bell, Ton ran hear its great heart beat— Ah ! so loud, and wild, and sweet, As the parson says a prayer Over his happy lovers there, While all is well! In the old church tower Hangs the bell, Deep and solemn. Hark ! again ! ! what passion, and what pain! With her hands upon her breast, Some poor soul has gone to rest Where all is well! In the old church tower Range the bell, A quaint friend that seems to know All our joys and all our woes; It is glad when we are wed, It is sad when we are dead, And all is well ! INDIAN SUMMER Without appearing to notice his embar rassment, 1 said, pointing to the window : I fear, sir, that I shall be compelled to trespass further upon your hospitality.' c You are welcome, sir, to everything my poor house affords.' And while he spoke he set the frugal breakfast upon the table. My entertainer ate little, but talked more than on the previous evening. As he avoided allusions to the singular affair of the night, I made no mentio i of it, although my curiosity was deeply excited on the subject. After breakfast, he opened a small book case, in a few words drew my attention to its contents, and then left the room. I selected a volume of Byron, and, drawing , sit you down, I a chair to the glowing fire, was soon urn- And let me wring your heart ; for so i shall, mersed in the passionate poetry of the If it be made of penetrable stuff.' —SRA.KSPEABE. melancholy , Childe.' During the pedestrian tour through My host did not 1 eturn to the room un- Wales, about the close of the year, I was til it was time to arrange the table f.tr overtaken by a terrible snow storm, and, dinner. He excused the plain fare, say being unfamiliar with the country, soon jag— lost my way and all hopes of finding it c He so seldom had a guest in his house I again. After wandering about a consider- that he was not prepared to entertain able time I became overpowered by the 1 them in a proper manner.' intense cold, and was on the point of : The frugal repast being ended, we took yielding to the fatal delusion of seeking a seats before the fire. After a tiresome moment's repose—l had repeated a brief i silence of several minutes, I ventured to prayer to heaven—and was about sinking ! ask my host if he lived entirely alone. to the embrace of that sleep which is death, 1 `Alone,' he answered almost fiercely. when I naught the faint glimmer of a light ,I am never alone, never, never, never ! at a distance. Aroused: by this unexpected' Oh, God ! what a life is mine! No rest and cheering sight, I renewed my exertions day or night. Thoughts of the gloomy and succeeded, after a painful struggle, in past all day, and wrestling with torment reaching the shelter which was to save me ing fiends half the night. And when at from cruel death. last exhausted nature sinks to- sleep, it is The house to which I dragged my frozen not repose, for horrible dreams are the limbs was a rough building of logs, con- nightly companions of my pillow. This struoted more for strength than beauty. I is life withc ut hope—woe, woe, eternal applied my stick to the door, which was I woe ! lam lost, lost, forever!' opened by a man, whose figure was imper- ',attempted to console him with the ceptible in the surrounding gloom, but his hope of better days in future. voice struck me as being the saddest I 4 Sir, waste not you' sympathy on me,' ever heard, he cried, starting up, his eyes blazing I was led into a room where a blazing with a lurid light, which threw over his wood-fire welcomed me. I ran eagerly to wan face an awful beauty. ' Happness its warm embrace, and experienced the can never more be mine. Look at me— most delightful sensation as my benumbed do you think laughter can dwell on these limbs yielded to the heat and became suf- lips, or pleasure light up these eyes ? I fused with a delicious glow. am guilty of agt unnamed crime I There My host brought me a glass of steaming is no more rest for me in this world or the hot liquor, and as he handed it to me I next ! Macbeth bath murdered sleep— availed myself of the opportunity to' look Macbeth shall sleep no more !' at him more closely. His face was emaci- After uttering this wild wail of despair, ated even to ghastliness, displaying in the unhappy man came up to me, saying— every feature the hopeless tyranny cf . , Pardon this vehemence. If you knew dreadful despair ; his lips, so withered and the quenchless fire that consumes my bloodless, seemed incapable of smiling; heart, you would excuse and pity me.' a gloomy fire lighted up his deep-set eyes I was affected even to tears, at the sight ininarked contrast with his pale and lofty °I.-8° much misery and hopeless despair, forehead ; his person had once been tall Ind, throwing - my arms around the neck and elegantly formed, but its beauty wa of this most disconsolate, but most inter= now marred by* stoop, eating of men, I. begged him to open his There was a rare grace about this singe - sad heart to me. It was then that he told hr person; and bis language was exceed- me the following,. ' ingly elegant and refined—but he did not STORY OF THE LOST MAN. feel'. disposed to talk, Soon after supper, f When .I think of what lam and of which was as plain as a hermit's, I inti- .what 1. might have been, when I recall the mated toloy,entertainer that I felt in need reap brightneas of my early years, and ; of repose. He left. the apartment, and/ emilemPiate the dreary _prospect' that after an absentia of half an hohr,•rettirned awaits me , ?' am filled with despair, for with the inforirrion that,. My mat wiii i, lost inti?oeneei "oat happiness, lost heaven! *A.Y.,, " .. . I kTO4s,4letcd 'Me Ap:ii, ' ,lmo i t , I bitgan, rife_ h overt Prospeof of a Whiralethe s e cond story , which were 1 bright itidllotiotiti;fiiture—Vtkought the The morn awakes likArooding dove, With ontstretehed wings of gray; Thin feathery clouds close in above, And build a sober day. No motion in the deeps of air; No trembling in the leaves ; A still contentment everywhere, That neither laughs or grieves A shadowy veil of silvery sheen Bedims the ocean's hue; Save where the boat has torn between A track of shining blue. Dream on, dream on, 0 dreamy day ! The very clouds are dreams; That eland is dreaming far away, And is not where it seems. REMORSE, OR A DOUBLE II):11 00 1131 two rooms. With a key that he carried, he opened one of the rooms, and inviting me to enter, departed with a single good night. • The chamber was plain in the extreme, and would have been cheerless, but for a wood fire that blazed on the hearth. A bed, two chairs and a washstand comprised all the furniture. I soon threw off my clothes, and, committing my weary body to the conch which was spread opposite to the fire-place, sank into a refreshing slum ber. My sleep was visited by a dream ; I was overtaken by a snow storm, and, losing my way, was wandering about for some place to shelter me during the night, when I Caine upon a solitary house in a thick wood ; upon applying for admission, I was ushered into a room where six or eight men and women sat around a table playing cards. They all started up on my entrance, and came around me with menacing looks and gestures, while some of them bran dished sticks and knives about my face with the most horrible cries. At times I started from my sleep, and the same dreadful sound filled my ears ; I heard the most piteous cries of My God, forgive me !"l )h Lord, pardon me !' fol lowed by loud and repeated blows, and most heartrending supplications for mercy. These were-succeeded by fierce exclama tions of Wretch I yon deserve torture, death and hell !' These fearful words were followed by a struggle, during which I heard cries of mercy, mercy, mercy !' succeeded by sobs and groans. All these frightful sounds seemed to proceed from the loom adjoining Perhaps my host was being mur- With this thought I sprang from bed, lighted my lamp from the dying embers of the fire, and went to the door of the next chamber. The sounds had now ceased, and everything was as quiet as the grave. I rapped. No reply. Perhaps he was dead ! At last a voice which I knew was that of my strange host, demanded : What do you want ?' 6 I want to know the cause of the cries and struggles I've just heard, and which seemed to come from this room,' I an- swered. You had better go to sleep and allow others to do the same,' was his coarse re ply. I returned to my chamber, pondering over the events of the night. On rising the following morning, I looked out of the window, and perceived that the snow storm still continued with unabated fury. After dressing, I de. emended to the room occupied the previous evening, where I discovered my host bowed down over a table, on which lay a miniature of a lady. He was so absorbed in con templating the picture before him, that, he did not notice me as I entered and took a position, in order to study his most inter esting face. A feeling of awe came over me as I regarded the noble ruin. 1 was, indeed, fascinated by that face, which, in spite of the ravages of disease and despair, still bore the remains of no ordinary beauty. There was a strange mystery about the man that excited my liveliest curiosity, and recalling what I had heard since my brief residence with him, it struck me that he Could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul.' Whip my eyes were rivAed upon the Interesting object of speculation, he pas sionately kissed the picture, and, rising, he encountered my earnest gaze, and Started like a guilty thing.' "THAT 00IIIITZT IS TICS MOST PROSPISOUS WIIMM LABOR COMMANDS THE. ORMATIST BMWAILD."--BUOHANAN. LANCASTER CITY, PA., TUESDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 3, 1863. golden dreams of my youth were about to be realized—everything looking so beauti ful, so enchanting, so alluring—when all my towering hopes were destroyed at onoe and forever. Before telling you the horrid secret that, like a raging fire consumes my heart, I wish to revert, for a brief perio.l, to the innocent and happy days of my boyhood at Greenway Park, the family residence. 6 My father was a very stern man, and full of pride for the family of which he was the head. My mother, on the con trary, was one of those sweet angelic beings who are more fitted for the heaven ly spheres than for an earthly habitation. I had no sister, but one brother, Richard, who was five or six years older than I, and during the whole of the rose-colored days of my youth, he was at college, while I remained at home amid the delightful bower of Greenway Park. 'Oh ! happy days of my boyhood, when everything was bright and beautiful ? Oh, days of sunshine and flowers, when I was without a sorrow, witnout a care, without a orime—oh! priceless, precious boon of innocence and peace! Thus passed the blissful period of my' youth, until I was eighteen years old, when the event happened which was des tined, after a brief but sweet dream, to change the color of my life from sunshine to shadow, from light to darkness—to make me what I am. A few months before my departure to Oxford to complete my education, Lillian Paget, my father's ward, came to reside at Greenway Park. She was one of the richest heiresses of England. 'Lillian was just entering upon her seventeenth year when she came to our house, which she lighted with her lovely presence as the moon does the starry night. My brother being absent on his travels, I became Lillian's companion.— We sailed on the silvery lake, we rode, walked, and studied together. I was soon convinced that she was to have a control ing influence over my destiny. How many delightful hours did I pass with Lillian in the old library reading our favorite au thors. She possessed a voice of heart touching sweetness, and to hear her read the picture page of Scott and the glowing poems of Byron, let an additional charm to the writings of those unrivaled geniuses Lillian's mind was cultivated far beyond her years ; her learning, indeed, was im mense, and embraced branches of knowl edge very seldom pursued by her sex.— Her splendid talents commanded the most profound respect, and I yielded myself, unreservedly, to her guidance on all sub jects appertaining to literature. Sometimes, when conversing upon her favorite topics, her deep blue eyes would glow with a glorious beauty, and strains of eloquence that astonished and enchan ted me burst from her rosy lips. Her beauty, then, appeared superior to that of the daughters of earth—it recalled what I read of the lovely Houris of the Mahome dan Paradise. I could not be the daily companion of this fascinating woman without loving her. It was as natural for me to love Lillian as it was for the eagle to love the glorious sun. I loved her more than my life, more than my soul—she was my queen, my goddess, my idol ! She made this world a paradise to me. A smile from her was worth more than the applause from mil lions. Thus passed away the summer like a delicious dream, until the time arrived for me to depart to college. After spending three years at Oxford, I took my degree, and returned to Greenway Park. Great changes had taken place , in the beloved home of my boyhood ; my brother bad come back, after a long and extravagant sojourn on the continent. He had mingled in the best society of Paris and Rome, where his fascinating manners had made him a universal favorite. His brilliant career abroad had completely spoiled him for a residence at Greenway Park, and soon after his return a new order of things began. :The heavy antique furniture 'of the parlors was banished up stairs, and the rooms arranged after the French manner. The walls were ornamented with superb mirrors which reached from the floor to the ceiling. silken curtains were suspended from the windows, and gorgeous carpets covered the floors. Visits were exchanged with the neighboring gentry, and balls and parties given. My brother's word was the law of the Medes and Persians to the whole house—even my stern father yielded to the impetuous Richard, while my gentle mother dare not open her lips. But the change that Struck a mortal blow to my heart was the demeanor of Lil lian towards rne. She was no longer the genial, frank companionable creature of other days. The cause of this was soon made known to me. She and Richard were to be married. The expenses of my brother abroad, and the innovation rt home, had exhausted the family re sources, and my father only saw one way of getting out of the difficulty, and that was the marriage of Richard and Lillian —thus scouring her immense wealth for the future head of the family. My brother acted according to this suggestion, paid Lillian the most flatter ing and assiduous attentions, brought all his extraordinary fascinating powers to aid his suit, addressed her and was accepted. The wedding wes appointed to take place two weeks from the day of my return to Greenway Park. • • The second day after my arrival at Greenway Park my brother went to Lon don to make, arrangements for his ap primehing wedding. After his departure the house resumed ite old state of peace and quiet, but there was no peace for me. Wherever I went I was reminded of the sweet days of the past, never, never to re turn. Lillian's lovely spirit pervaded ' every . spot. 'he days dragged their slow lengths along until the second day from that which was appointed for the wedding. My brother was expected bank that evening, and, knowing that it was the last opportu nity, I proposed to Lillian a sail on the lake. She consented, and we set out. It ' seemed so much like old times to be danc ing over the bright waters of the glassy lake, with Lillian for my companion. My , memory was so busy with the past that for several minutes I did not speak. At last, however, I ventured to allude to the blissful days which I had passed in her society when she first came to Green ' "way Park—how madly I had loved her— J the sweet ,hqpes I had built, and how they had to the - ground, leaving we no- thing but darkness and despair. She lis tened calmly to my passionate language, and when I had concluded, said : g I took an interest in you, as I should have done with any young man under the circumstances, but never felt for you any thing like love. Your mind was not ma tured enough for me. I °bald not marry a man who had acknowledged himself in ferior to me for instruction. A man to wiu my love must captivate my mind as well as my fancy. In short, I could not love a man who I could not admire.' These cool, nutting words, were little calculated to soothe my wounded heart. When I had expected to receive at least consolation, I received insult. I was not only rejected, but spurned with contempt. This aroused all the pride of the Green ways that slumbered in my breast. While yet smarting under the wound, the foul fiend whispered : Will you let another possess her whom you love ?' This horrid idea took immediate pos session of my mind, and turning fieroely towards her I, esolaimd,: Lillian Paget, no power on earth can make me yield you to another. You must this instant swear to niarry me, or by Heaven ! I will drown you like a dog ! Speak !' I cried, savagely, be mine or die !' As I spoke, I seized and held her over the water. I have promised to marry your brother, and I cannot break my promise,' was her faint reply. c Die, then !' I oried, dashing her into the lake. Before going down, she stretched forth her arms towards me, and in accents that would have moved a demon, implored me to save her. W ill you be mine '?' I demanded. I cannot,' was her answer, and the next moment she sank beneath the water. 6 An awful stillness seemed to fill the air and water at the consummation of this horrid orinie. I sailed to the shore with my heart torn with conflicting passions. Oa_ landing, my brother came from behind a tree that stood on the border of the lake, and asked for Lillian, his bride. What do I know about your bride 1 I am not her keeper.' Oh, tell me what you have done with my promised wife ! You have murdered my Lillian ? Give me back my bride !" Go seek your bride !' I yelled, seizing him, and with demoniac fury hurling him against the • tree: I He fell to the ground without a groan. My brother was dead, and I was his mur derer! 6 Full of consternation for the crimes I had committed, I rushed to the house, and taking a few articles belonging to me fled from England. In the gay oity.of. Paris I tried to bury my remorse in the sparkling Lethe of dis sipation. The effort was in vain. Lillian's pleading face and my brother's mangled form were_ always before me. After wandering like Cain, a fugitive over the earth, for ten years, I returned to England, so altered that my own mother would not have known me. But that be . - loved mother had passed from the land of sorrow to the enjoyment of heavenly beat itude. She did not survive the tragical death of Lillian and Richard more than a month, and after dragging along a weary existence for a year longer, my father sank broken.hearted into the grave. Greenway Park was deserted and fall ing to ruins. I turned sadly away, and after wandering about for s week, came upon this barren spot, which I selected for my habitation. as it accorded so well with my forlorn, my lost life.' Taking up a Collection. Rarely have we% better story, or a bet ter told story, than this, from a reverend gentleman in Missouri : The life of a preacher in a new country, from a secular point of view, is hardly as smooth and free from difficulty as a posi tion in more cultivated populous commu nities usually appears to be. The people are thinly scattered here and there, in dif ferent pursuits, though chiefly agricultural. Being collected from all parts of the older Sates, and gathered from every class of society, they meet upon the same com mon ground, upon terms of easy familiarity, andrestrained by no irksome conventionali, ties. People in a new country generallyhave a pretty hard time of it. They live a sort of a 'rough and tumble' life, wearing out their best efforts in a struggle for existence. Under these circumstances the material sometimes absorbs the spiritual ; and the people not unfrequently 'get so far behind' with the preacher that they have frequent ly to be powerfully 'stirred up' from the pulpit. On one occasion we had a visit from the presiding elder of our district at one of our quarterly meetings. We had not paid our circuit preacher 'nary dime,' as the boys say, and we expected a scoring from the elder. Well, we were not disap pointed. The elder Breached us a moving discourse from the text, Owe no man anything.' At the close of his sermon he came at once to the 'subject in hand.' d3rethren,' said he, 'have you paid Brother ---anything this year 1 Nothing at all, I understand. Well, now, your preacher can't live on air, and you must pay up— pay up, that's the idea. .He needs twen ty-five dollars now, and must have it ! Steward, we'll take up a collection now.' Here some of the audience near the door began 'to slide out' Don't run ! don't run !' ezolaimed the elder. Steward, look that door and fetch me the key !' he continued, coming down out of the pulpit and taking his seat by the stand table in front. The steward looked the door, and then deposited the key on the table by the side of the elder. Now, Steward,' said he, 'go round with the hat. 1 must have twenty-five dollars out of this crowd before one of you shall leave this house;' Here was a fix. The congregation were taken all aback. The old folks looked as tonished ; the young folks tittered. The steward gravely proceeded in the dis charge of his official duties. The hat was passed around, and at length deposited on the elder's table. -- The elder poured out the funds on the table and counted the amount. s Three dollars and a half ! A slow start, brethren ! Go round, again, Stew ard. We must pull np a heap stronger than that !' Around went. the Steward with his hat again and finally palled Aip at the elder's stand. Nine dollars and three qnarters ! Not enough yet. Go around, again, Steward !' Around went the steward again. Twelve dollars and a,half ! Mighty slow, brethren! 'Fraid your dinners will all get cold before you get home to eat Go round again, Steward !' By this time the audience began to be fidgety. They evidently thought the joke was getting to be serious. But the elder was relentless. Again and again circula ted, the indefatigable hat, and slowly, but surely, the pile on the table swelled to wards the requisite amount. Twenty-four dollars and-a half ! Only lack half a dollar. Go round again stew ard !' Just then, there was a tap on the window from the outside , a hand was thrust in holding a half dollar between the thumb and finger, and a young fellow outside ex claimed : Here, Parson, here's your money ; let my girl out o'there ; I'm tired with wait ing for her.' It was the last hair that broke the cam el's bank ; and the preacher' eould exclaim in the language of 41ke Turtle' ;--c This 'ere meeting done bust up.' ARTEMAS WARD ON GHOSTS.—The showman is delivering a lecture on Ghosts in the principal Eastern cities preparatory to his starting for the West. His adver tisement in the New York papers is unique. He is 'permitted to refer' to a number of persons, among whom are 'James Bu chanan, Wendell Phillips, Mr. Czar of Russia, Sylvanns Cobb, Jr., the Bedouin Arabs, Young Albert Wales and wife,' &c. The following certificates also ap pear : ARTRIKAS WARD : Dear Sir—l have never heard any of your lectures, but from what I can learn I should say thatlfor people who like the kind of lectures you deliver, they are just the kind of lectures such people like. Yours, respectably, ARTEMAB WARD RESPECTED SLR-My wife was afflicted with the pipsywipsy in her head for nearly eight years. The doctori all gave her up. But in a fortunate moment she went to one of your leeturee, and commenced re covering very rapidly. She is now in perfect health. We like your lectures very much. Please send me a box of them. They are purely vegetable. Send me another five dollar bill and Pll write you another certificate twice as long as this. Yours, &c., AMOS PILKINS And 1,000 others. A Squinting Jury. Once upon a time, or, to be a little more particular, neaaly half a century ago, (for the editor of this paper well remem bers the time, place, and scene, which are firmly fixed upon his boyish recollections,) there dwelt in the town of—, in old England, a remarkable oddity, in the per son of an attorney at law, who although not fair to look upon, (for he was in truth one of the homeliest specimens of humn ity ever beheld by mortal man,) was withal a person of sound judgement, great benev olence, varied learning, a poet, a painter, and a wit of no mean order. It so happened that the aforesaid gentle man, G. G—, Esq., was appointed high sheriff of the town of —. He was a man of fortune, and had a kind heart, as many a poor prisoner could testify who partook of the good cheer with which the prisoners were liberally supplied at Christ mas and other well known festivals, from the private purse of the high sheriff. It was, of course, the duty of the high sheriff to summon a grand and petit jury to attend at the quarter sessions, of which the recorder, mayor, and aldermen of tle borough composed the court. In the per formance of his official duty in summon ing the petit jury, our sheriff indulged in some of the strangest and drollest freaks that have probably ever been heard of in any other town or country. In the first place he summoned for the October court a jury consisting of twelve of the fattest men he could find in the borough, and when they came to the book to be sworn, it ap pered that only nine jurors could sit com fortably in the box ! After a great deal of sweating, squeezing and scolding, the panel was literally jammed into the box, and when seated they presented to the eye of the court, the barristers, and the andi enoe, the tightest fit' of a jury that was ever seen in a court room. Literally they became, much to the astonishment of the court and its robed advocates, a packed jury' and no mistake. For the January term, our facetious high sheriff (in consequence, it is said, of some hint from the recorder that there should be no more fat panels summoned to his court,) went into the opposite extreme. He tummoned twelve of the leanest and tallest men he could find in the borough ; and when they took their seats in the box, it appeared comparatively empty—there was indeed room for more of the same sort and dimensions. For the April term of the court, our hu morous functionary summoned a jury con sisting of twelve barbers ! Now it so hap pond that among the latter were the per ruquiers who dressed the recorders' and barrister' wigs, and some of the latter, ar riving late at the bar, hid to appear that morning in court with their wigs undressed or half-dressed, so as to out a very ridicu lous figure, amidst the smiles and half suppressed laughter of the by-standers. The high sheriff enjoyed the fun amazingly, but looked as 'grave as a judge,' while he tried to keep silence in the court room. But the crowning joke of this waggish functionary occurred at the summoning of his fourth and last jury, fit the summer ses sion of July. For that term of the court, the high sheriff, not having the fear of the recorder, the mayor, and the aldermen be fore his eyes, actually sommoned a squint ing jury. Twelve as queer looking bipeds as ever took thier seats in a jury box—a jury that was probably more looked at,than any or the appointed twelve that ever were sworn, to well and truly try and true de liverance make between their sovereign lord and king and the prisoner at the bar'. But the 'scene was so irresistibly droll that the learned reeorder could not main tain his gravity. The mayor and alder man followed suit. The barristers laughed while theiewigs became bald, powderless ; nay, even the poor prisoners in t4e dook, who were to be , put ,on , their, , trial,,and some of them nudergo tranaportation,ootdd not-refrain from joining.the general each., ination ! And when the learned) reeorder commanded. the high sheriff to bring the court-room to order, and intimated, with a half-suppressed laugh, that the latter ought to be ashamed of himself for sum moning such a jury, the drollery of this court scene was heightened considerably by the quick, ready, and sonorous re sponse of the high sheriff, who, looking at the same time at the squinting jury' ex claimed. All good and lawful men, your honor.'—English paper. We extract the following from a popu lar story. It narrates the early experience of a bashful boy : Well, my sister Lib gave a party one night; and I stayed away from home be cause I was 'too bashful to face the music. I hung around the house whistling Old Dan Tucker,' dancing to keep my feet warm, watching the heads bobbing up and down behind the window curtains, and wishing the thundering party would break up so I could get to my room. I smoked a bunch of cigars, and as it was getting late and mighty uncomfortable, I concluded to climb up the door-post. No sooner said than done, and I soon found myself snug in bed. Now,' says I, let her rip ! Dance till your wind is out !' And cud dled under the quilts, Morpheus grabbed me. I was.dreaming of soft-shelled crabs and stewed tripe, and having a good time, when somebody knocked at my room door and woke me up. Rap' again. I laid low. Rap, rap, rap !' Then I heard a whispering, and I knew there was a whole raft of girls 'outside. Rap, rap !' Then Lib sings out Jack, are you in there ?' Yes,' says I, and then came a roar of laughter. Let us in,' says she. won't says L Then came another laugh. By thunder, I begin to get riled ! Get out you pettiooated. scarecrows !' I cried ; can't you get a bean without hauling a fellow out of bed ! I won't go home with you—l won't—so you may clear out !' And sending a boot at the door, I felt bet ter. But presently—O, mortal buttons ! I heard a still small voice, very much like sister Lib's, and it said, Jack, you'll have to get up, for all the girl's things are in there !' 0 dear, what a pickle ! Think of me in bed, all covered with shawls, muffs, bonnets and cloaks, and twenty girls outside waiting to get in. As it was, I rolled out among the ribbons in a burry. Smash went the millinery in every direc tion. I had to dress in the dark—for there was a crack in the door, and girls will peep—and the way I fumbled about was death on straw hats. The critical moment at last oame. After runniog my hand all over my clothes to see that everything was all right and tight, I opened the door and found myself right among the women ! 0, my leghorn !' cries one. My dear winter velvet!' cries another—and they pitched in—they piled me this way and that—boxed my ears; and one little bright eyed piece—Sal , her name was— put her arms right round my neck and kissed me right on my lips ! Human nature couldn't stand that, and I gave her as good as she sent. It was the first time I ever got a taste, and it was powerful good. I believe I could have kissed that gal from Julius Cmsar to the Fourth of July: Jack,' said she, we are sorry to disturb you, but won't you 'see me home 1' ' Yes,' says I, I will.' I did do it, and had another smack at the gate, too. After that we took a kinder turtle-doving after each other, both of us sighing like a bar rel of new cider when we were away from each other.' 0. ABE THE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER JOB PRINTING ESTABLISHMENT, No. 8 NORTH DUKE STREET, LANCASTER, PA. The Jobbing Department Is thoroughly. furnished with new and elegant type of every description, and is under the charge of a practical and experienced Job Printer.-- The Proprietors are prepared to PRINT CHECKS, NOTES, LEGAL BLANKS, 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 reasona ble terms, and in a manner not excelled by any establish ment in the city. .011— Orders from a distance, by mail or otherwise promptly attended to. Address GEO. SANDERSON k SON, Intelligencer Office, No. 8 North Duke street, Lancaster, Pa. SHEAPPER , S CHEAP BOOK STORE No. 32 NORTH QUEEN STREET IS THE PLACE TO PURCHASE SCHOOL BOOKS & SCHOOL STATIONERY COMPRISING ALL TDB VARIOUS READING AND SPELLING BOOKS, ARITHMETICS AND ALGEBRAS, GRAMMARS AND ETYMOLOGIES, DICTIONARIES AND HISTORIES, PHILOSOPHIES, &o, COPY AND COMPOSITION BOOKS, LETTER, CAP AND NOTE PAPER, BLANK—BOOKS, SLATES, LEAD AND SLATE PE 'MILS, PENS AND HOLDERS, INK, INKSTANDS, RULERS, and the best and most complete assortment of SCHOOL STATIONERY IN THE CITY. Air Liberal discounts made to Teachers and Merchants at JOHN SHEA.FFER'S Cheap Cash Book Store , 32 North Queen street, Lance:ear. oct 14 tf 40 DE. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT, THE GREAT EXTERNAL REMEDY. FOR RHEUMATISM, GOUT, NEURALGIA, LUMBAGO, STIFF NECK 'AND JOINTS, SPRAINS, BRUISES, CUTS AND WOUNDS, PILES, HEADACHE, AND ALL REIEUMATIO AND NER VOUS DISORDERS. For all of which it is kspeedy and certain remedy. and never fails. This Liniment la prepared from the recipe of Dr. Stephen Sweet, of Connecticut, the famous bone setter, and has been used in his practice for more than twenty years with the most astonishing success. AS AN ALLEVIATOR OF PAIN, it is unrivalled by any preparation before the public, of which the moat skeptical may be convinced by a single DIAL This Liniment will cure, rapidly and radically, Rheu matic Disorders of every kind, and in thousands of cases where it has been used it has never been known to fall. FOR NEURALGIA, it will afford immediate relief in every case, however distressing, , It will relieve the worst came of lIEADACHE in these minutes and Is warranted to do it. TOOTHACHE also will it cure instantly. FOR NERVOUS DEBILITY AND GENERAL LASSI TUDE arising from imprudence or excess, this Liniment is a moat happy and unfailing remedy. Acting directly Upon the nervous tissues, it strengthens and revivifies the sys tem, and restores it to elasticity and vigor. FOR PILES.,--As an external remedy, we claim that it% the best known, and we challenge the world to produce an equal. Every victim of this distressing complaint should give it a, - trial;rot it wiaxioxrdleto afford immediate relief and in a majority of eases will effect a radical core. QUINSY AND SORE THROAT are sometimes extremely_ malignant and dangerous, but a timely application of thin Liniment Will never fail to cure: . SPRAINS are sometimes very obstinate, and enlarge ment of the Joints is liable to occur if neglected. The worst case Moy be conquered . by tile Liniment in two. or three - . . Gaye. BRUISES, OUTS,.WOUNDS, SORES, ULCERS, BURNS and SCALDS, yield readily to the wonderful healing pro perties of -Dr. Sweet's Infallible Liniment when' wed as cording to directions: 'ADP; CHILBLAINS, FROSTED FEET, INSECT BITES and' STINGS. Every Rom Owner should have this remedy at hand, for its timely use et the first appearance' of l,amenesi effectually prevent these - formidable diseases, to which all horses are 'liable, and which render so many otherwise valuable horses nearly worthless. ' Over four hundred voluntary testimonials to the-wonder ful curative properties of this Liniment have been received within the last two years, and many of them from persons in the highest ranks of life. , , To avoid itaposition, observe the Signature and Likewise of Dr. Stephen Sweet on every label, and also "Stephen Sweet's Linlment"• blown In .tbe glass of each bottle, without which none are genuine.. atclii-susiai mi., - • Sole Proiwirbant, tionaleh;Ot:= l Tor Sale by all Dealers..:::, : fritrne 1 .!. 3 . - 4. 23 The First Step. JOHN CHEAP Cziirkl:,HG ETOSE, "SIGN OP THE BTRLPED COAT," No. 42 NOETR.QUIFf STILIIT, NAST ems, RAM Oa G 1 8!., TANOABTEN pn. The subscriber has now In stirs itearylarge assortment of TALL AND WINTGR, BI; AD i—LADS CLOTHING fot . Men and Boys wear, prinripally of hie owzrmeutseture. warranted to be well sawed, and •to be of the beet of Material and Workmanship, and whlati he will sell at the very lowest prim. • Among his extensive assortment may ba found: Black Cloth Bangnpe; Seal Skin 0115 i Bintly • Bizet Cloth 'Frock Dads, . . Cessimere - Sack'Costta; • Black OusindlyeTantaloons, Fanny CassinsaraPantaloons, ValenciaTestrq • : - -Fenny Velvet Vests, , . Fanny Silk Vests, ' Black Satin Vesta. Also, a full asibrtment of llnder-Shirts and Drawers, Knit Wool Jackets, Irma Shirts, Shirt . Collars, Cravats, Neck-Ties, Sospenders, - Stocke," Gloves,' Hosiery, llmbrel las,Ac. - - BO.Y 5" zaTHXxa. Just finished the largest and cheapest assortment of Boys' Clothing in this city; consisting' Of Boys' OvprCoata, Frock, Sack and Honker Coats, BlSlll2dabettlti, Pantaloons and Vesta, of all sizes aad qualities. ' • . ; just received a very large and well seleotesTstook of CLOTHS, FA LL STYLIC CASSIMBREB AND- VBSTYNGB, which will be made op to .order, in-the most Ikaldonable style at very reasonable prices.'.-:-- Persons ordering garments at this-establishment can depend snide getting them et the time sPeolfled. Thankful for the very liberal patronage. bereft:Ore be stowed upon thiS establishment, the proprietor respectfully solicits a continuance of the same. • . • • - JOHN gatitior, Sign of the Striped Coat, No. 42 North Qbeeda *Met, east side, near Orange street, Lancaster, Pa. aep 29 11 ! EigsA' • '• ' 2/ •*64.'4 tr m. " ValtsVgLA t 3.47,60 1: or' m ,. QOd.J-4 t RVirg 00 61.9.ER...g4 )r a 4 4 1M1 g A.,..CUa~0-m'grill9,al4 8 • arz1 7,17, 4g- H, ;. 1 . 1 2H !'5„. .I"tr," g A T 7,1.1;.19 4,, • mtP,L S EV . ,; 4":47,11,t' , 4 Aar:cuu-e-Jt • NK I.4tt. Como .411 mi 4 '3 l3 ' mmgaigg "THERE IS NO svajl WORD AS FAIL." TARRANT'S . COMPOUND EXTRACT OP CIMEMS AND OOPAIBA. • This preparation is .plarticularly recommended to the Medical Profession and the Public, for the prompt and certain cure of DISEASES OF THE BLADDER,KIDNEYS, URINARY ORGANS, ET J. • • • It may be relied on aa the beet mode for the adminietra lion of these remedies in the large Class of tilimases of both eases, to which they are applicable. It nevar.lhterferea with the digestion, and by. its coridentratiOn . tha dons to much reduced. N. B.—Purchasers are advised to ask for Tarrant's Com pound Extract of Cabebs and Copaiba, and take nothing else, as imitations and worthless preparations, under aim!• lar narnea, - iire in the market." Price $l.OO. Bent by ax• press on receipt of price. . . . . Manufactured only by TARRANT k No 278 Greenwich Street, con of :iyar . ron 81.,..15ew York, AND FOR SALE ..Y DRUGGISTSGENBEALLY. °et 13 D R. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINI. MENT. THE GREAT EZTERNA.L.R.EICILI -T. FOR RHEUMATISM, GOUT, NEURALGIA, LUMBAGO, STIFF NECK AND JOINTS, SPRAINS; BRIIII3ES, CUTS AND WOUNDS, .PILES, HEADACHE, AND ALL RHEUMATIC AND VOUS DISORDERS.. - DR. STEPHEN SWEET, OF CONNECTICUT, The Great Natural Bone Setter. DR. STEPHEN SWEET, OF CONN,ROTICUT. Is known all over tbe United 'States. DR. STEPHEN SWEET, OP CONNECTICUT; Is the anther of "Dr. Sawt's Infallible Liniment." • DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE.LI.NIMENT Cures Rheumatism and never fails. DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT Is a certain remedy for Neuralgia. DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE' LifirRHIENT Cures Burns and Scalds immediately. • • . , DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT Is the best known Remedy for Sprains and Bruisell.l DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT Cures Headache immediately and was never fall. DR. SWEET'S INFAIJ,LBLEILINIIILENT Affords immediate relief for Piles, and seldom - habit° cure. • - DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT Cures Toothache in one Minute. DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT Cures Cute and Wounds Immediately and leaves no acar. DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT Is the best remedy for Sores in the known world, , 'DR.-SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT Haabeau used by more than a minima *pie; !Mid all praise It. DR. SWEErs.INFALLIBLIi ItNillooll Ls truly a " friend In need," and every, family sheatid have It at hand... • • • -; •.:10 DR.,BWEET'B INFALLIBLE LINIMENT Is for sale by . all Druggists. Price 26 and 50 cents. "liIOHANDI3ON k CO., Bole Proprietors, Norwich, Ot. SE-For sale by all Dealers. • [jruie.23 ly 24 F ANCY FURS! FANCY EVIL JOHN FA /2 ETES, 718 Allan Eiru-ss (below Bth sontti side,) PHILADELPHIA. Importer, Manama - fir of and Dealer in all kinds FANCY FURS! for Ladies' and Children I wish to return m; thanks to my friends c Lancaster and the em rounding counties, for thel very liberal patronage et tended to me during tt last few years, and wool, say to them that I now have in store, of my own Importation and Mauufattutea very. nxbadnit e assort mentor ill the' different kinds' of Fancy Furs. for Ladles asd thap rbe - worn 'during the Fall and Winter salmons. Being the direct Importer of all my 71nre•froxii,Nizrops, and having them all Manufactured under my owu-super vtdon—enables.me to offer my eciatomere andlthel Oriblle a much handsomer set of Furs for the, aaolo,!honey. Ladles please eve me a call beret* purehmangl", rime remember the name, number end street: , `-+ • ; 501 IN No: 718 , AithStreet;Phllidelptite. egt 36 M lal;42l=7o;Actr,id-',-; O -5, , ,-er= , - 0 ,,0cA s c,3 OltlAttgag 44:B:ie, °4 E .4- • 571, ii%gil7la4itelirsiO Yl 'L r ;tore4,s .:-181ri-tvB' wetr.. , 4 - 6134 • Mr.i.i . °.0:62 411 44; 4 4A 14 E.-C Fq l '', OEI = • 5 !0 -, 2i • N 1 =4W..41;t1 L§ ~11„; 4. 1 1,13 i • ,:u.s-a,a132091.4 T' E I, x . p''. Prepared by the undersigned froto LtWorigjnal re. ceipt, has proved of universal utility as a family medicine, and is not surpassed, if 41114 111311 rexadjin the follow ing complaints, viz: •• FOR COSTIVENESS, DYSPEPSIA. OR INDIGESTION, WEAKNESS, • HEADACHE, PILES. SUMMER comPtkiNT FEVER AND AGUE, FEMALE COMPLAINTS, and various other diseases arising (rota ichuidity of the blood and deranged digestive organs. . . All Who have made a Itlell4 Malt , Willthever be without a bottle of it at hand. , This valziable had - whniGnide or retail at the Drug Store of Aba.subsqlber s ,9p of Muth Queen and'Vine streets,in thellitrbflarf , Pa. • • _ •/ OHARIAR - GEHRING. Numerous testimon i a l s of the cured jperfaimierilry this Elixir am be shoWn from peractolfwbohamasttlifite r either personally or In the Auxkily, of w hich , a few artglven as a sample. • ' • .. !OD OKRTXFNISTES : , The truth of the above statement I clitierfullyverllfy te„ from having given this BfixLr's fair trisl,l4;=. • V. V. WIESE, e. . the underslgned,. having f o r a pouted le time antiers&froiriinW3olooloo94o ohe, and after rations other remedies tried, Mond no re f, until I used Mr. Gehrlog'aillliir otliferntrisdk removed every sYmPtontor the cam / runt- q uy. • ,11583; When say greinb;Moirdi - 'IMMIY I irgania/un46feß I have to do is to give a dose ot kla. B rea El4drialLife, which speedily removes' the ' - ecadhl - arid 'relliVU the patient.• • ..LUOUEt TaitiosMlZPlL i • • Afttliglig "' A lave tizieedlngly enffeied. tifebifial "myl° jant ooloPleints, and until I . nted TAig.,(l4oo ^ O hi& can not be too highly recinnininded,Le . _ re. Moral too to PetfoOt•hojtigh,', , T.' .1 oeP / 5 , 3 'm ,;t 3 3 ,' : , ..:_ . ": : ' ~'"" TS A.A. B 414 IWROLTaatapattob way. , s , 9 Thin i niar 'I Q PIA RELODVPIAL: '704:1116 antrm deoll'6o thBl .f.ToiMbR EINZEM - 75 0 NO. 4E'
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers