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VO L. LXIV
L'HE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER. place on the hill above, and have a glass
of grog' with me, and after sunset. I'll
41.1EINZ ) TUXBDAN , mu:,
BY GEO. ' AT NO. a NORTN DONI
SANDERSON. give you some flies that will kill. '
Thank you, I'll go with pleasure; I
am not in a harry, as I have nothing to
ao. lam staying in the village for a few
days, and passed yesterday and to-day in
fishing. lam not a good angler; but
never before was so miserably unsuccess
ful as to-day.'
I think we'll do better after the sun
goes down. Come this way.'
I accompanied him through a newly
mown meadow, sloping upward from the
river to the house. The house was small,
but a picture of neatness and order. Its
porch was tastefully embroidered with
roses and woodbine, and the room into
which he led me was airy and sweetly
scented by the perfume of mignionette
and wall flowers, floating through an open
window that looked upon a pretty garden
to the rear. I was somewhat surprised to
meet no hospitable-looking housewife or
cheerful daughters, as the appearance of
the cottage, as we approached it from the
meadow, led me to expect. There was no
trace of women about the place, save a
middle-aged servant, who was spinning in
the kitchen, and who merely rose and
courtesied when she saw me enter with
her master, and then quietly resumed her
employment.
My companion opened a cupboard in the
wall and produced some cold meat and
bread, with a bottle of fine old whisky.—
Then he spread a cloth on the table with
an air of one accustomed to that act, and
invited me to be seated. I partook of the
solids and fluids with an angler's appetite.
I'll show you my flies now,' said he,
when we had eaten and drank enough.
He opened another recess in the wall,
and discovered several magnificent fishing
rods and a variety of furs and feathers
for tying flies.
These are the things for this season,
after sunset,' said he, handing me a tin
box containing a number of differently
colored flies. And now, as the sun is
gone down, let us go back to the river,
and I'll warrant that you won't go back
to the village with an empty basket.'
We went down the sloping meadow to
the river, put up the flies, and in the
course of an hour and a half I had killed
two dozen, and my companion three dozen,
of fine trout. We then stopped fishing
and took our rods to pieces.
If you'd like to go to-morrow,' said he,
call upon me and I'll go with you. We
will surely kill plenty, as I have flies and
baits to suit every hole in the river.'
, I must leave the village to-morrow,'
I replied.
I then explained the reasons why my
stay was limited, adding—
, I am extremely obliged for your hos
pitality and the excellent evening's sport
you have gained me.'
, Don't say anything about it. I have
a liking for fishing, and was only glad to
meet one to go with me. Fishing is the
only amusement I care for.'
You must have excellent shooting
here in the winter. Don't you shoot as
well as angle 1 '
Ho staggered as if I had struck him,
and muttered to himself—
'Oh ! I shoot ? Oh good God ! Oh
good God !'
Then he turned away from me, going
quickly. He stopped after going about a
dozen yards, looked around, and said,
quite abruptly—
, Good night !'
He then resumed his rapid walk. I
looked after him in amazement until he
was lost to me in the fast-gathering dark
ness
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the shortest notice.
MY HEART AND I
Enough! we're tired, my heart and I.
We sit beside the hearthstone thus,
And wish that name were carved ior us
The moss reprints more tenderly
The hard types of the mason's knife,
As Heaven's sweet life renews earth's life
With which we're tired, my heart and 1.
You see we're tired, my heart and I.
We dealt with books, we trusted men,.
And in our own blood drenched the pen,
As if such colors could not fly.
We walked too straight for fortune end,
We loved too true to keep a friend;
At last we're tired, my heart and I.
How tired we feel, my heart and I.
We seem of no use in the world ;
Our fancies hang gray and uncurled
About men's eyes indifferently;
Our voice which thrilled you so will let
You sleep; our tears are only wet:
What do we here, my heart and I?
So tired, so tired, my heart and I.
Though now none takes me on his arm
To fold me close and kiss me warm,
Till each quick breath end in a sigh
Of happy languor. Now, alone,
We lean upon this graveyard stone,
Uneheered, unkissed, my heart and I.
Tired out we are, my heart and L
suppose the world brought diddems
To tempt us, crusted with loose gems
Of powers and pleasures? Let it try.
We scarcely care to look at even
A pretty child, or God's blue heaven,
We feel so tired, my heart and I.
Yet who complains? My heart and I.
In this abundant earth, no doubt,
Is little room for things worn out:
Disdain them, break them, throw them by !
And if before the days grew rough
We once were loved, used—well enough,
I think, we've fared, my heart and I.
NEARER TO LIFE'S WINTER
Nearer to life's winter, wife,
We are drawing nearer—
Memories of our blessed spring
Growing dearer, dearer.
Through tho summer heats we've toiled,
Through the autumn weather
We have almost passed, sweet wife,
Hand in hand together.
Time was, hearts were,
_well as feet,
Lighter, I remember;
April's leeks of gold are turned
Silver this November.
Flowers are fewer than at first
And the way grows drearer:
For unto life's winter, wife,
We aro drawing nearer.
Nearer to life's end, sweet wife,
We are drawing nearer;
The last milestone on the way
To our sight grows clearer.
Some whose hands we hold grow faint,
And lay down to slumber;
Looking backward, we to-day
All their graves may number.
Heights we sought we've failed to climb,
Fruits we've failed to gather;
But what matter since we've still
Jesus and each other.
LOVE ME AS OF YORE
Oh! take me to your heart again—
Oh! take me, I implore!
Forget the words that made u&part,
And love me as of yore !
Oh ! bitter, bitter were the words
That made no iThrt before ;
But oh! forget them—oh! forget,
And love me as of yore!
We meet, but ah ! thy look is eold,
And cold in every tone;
We meet, but ah ! as strangers meet—
Thy every smile is gone.
Oh! chide me not, nor look so cold,
But smile as once before ;
And take me to your heart again,
And love me as of yore !
WHY 'WILLY WAS A BACHE-
A TRUE NARRATIVE
I had no eyes for beauty on the spot.—
The fading trees, golden in the autumn
sunset, the liquid melody of the flowing
river, the songs of thrush and blackbird
ringing out in thrilling music on the still
air, the perfume of fresh hay from the
newly-mown meadows near, had no charms
for me. I was tired from a long day's
angling, and vexed at its total want of
success. I had not a single trout in my
basket, and had been whipping the stream
from morning till now, when I sat down,
fatigued and fretful, on the soft sward in
a lovely valley studded with ash trees,
without the excitement of a single rise or
nibble. I had changed and scolded my
flies a hundred times in the course of the
glowing day, and included the shopman
who had sold them to me. I had tried
worm and grub, and a variety of strange
insects captured by the bank of the river.
But all was futile—the trout would not
take. Those who have vainly angled will
understand and sympathize with my ill
temper when I gave up in despair towards
seven o'clock in the evening. After rest
ing for some moments, and looking sulkily
at the river, I began to untie my tackling,
vexedly snapping it whenever it chanced to
tangle, and breaking the hooks whenever
they chanced to fasten in my line.
Don't do that,' said a voice near me.
I looked up and saw an old man lean
ing on a short ash stick, quietly observing
my impatient movements.
'Don't destroy your tackling in that
way; only have patience, and you'll soon
disentangle it.'
I mad; no remark.
Had you any sport
'No.'
There's plenty of fish in the river for
all that.'
There may be.'
May be yJur flies are not good. Let
me look at 'en], will you V
He came to me without waiting for a
reply, and took the flies in his hand.
There isn't a trout in the river that
would look at 'em, even if the day was
good.'
There were some crumbs of consolation
in this, as blame, to some extent, was this
cast on other things besides my want of
Have you no other files but these hum
bugs
I gave him the box oontaining all the
flies I had. He sat down near me and
spread them out on some paper with an
air of criticism that would have charmed
old Izaak Walton.
I don't see three flies here worth put
ting up—all gimoraoks,' said he, after a
short examination. This hare's ear and
yellow would kill, maybe, only for this
silver rolled round the body. This black
gnat is the beet of all ; but that's spoiled
by the red silk there under the wings.—
'Twasn't you that tied them that way, was
No ; I bought them in Dublin.'
g If the day oquizood itself , , you wouldn't
killdwith them. Anyhow, 'twee too bright
tutbOt 'Twill be' first rate aftetenmEmt.
.you're.not in a inriy, omuo - up to. my
Going along the road to the village inn
at which I was lodging, I could think of
nothing but my strange companion. Was
he a little insane ? What was the reason
there was no trace of any relation what
ever in his neat cottage? Why such ex
traordinary conduct on my asking the
simple question, did he shoot ? I tried in
a variety of ways to answer to myself
these mental queries, but could arrive at
no satisfactory conclusion.
At supper, I resolved to consult the
waiter, and began to narrate my adventure,
beginning, as I have done in this sketch,
by saying how I had met my enigmatical
companion. The oriole stopped me at
once.
Sure, sir, that's Willy Regan, the old
bachelor.'
Further inquiries into the cause of
Willy .Regan's celibacy made me acquaint
ed with the story I here repeat.
Thirty-five years before Willy Regan
attracted my attention by the abrupt ad
monition chronicled here, he was in his
twenty-sixth year, and unsurpassed in the
parish for manly beauty and engaging dis
position. Of course, he was in love ; as
does not always happen, he was luckily so,
for he was an accepted suitor of Ellen
Mangan, the loveliest girl in that side of
the country. They were to be married in
the spring-time following the winter with
which this sketch has to do. The friends
of all the parties interested in the alliance
were pleased and satisfied with it. Happy
state of things—too rare in the ways of
the world in the matter of matrimony in
general.
It was winter time. The snow lay upon
the fields white and spotless, and upon the
highways sodden and stained. There was
a mist over the landscape like a pall,
though the sun shone ; but it was cool and
without brilliance, like a dull moon. There
was no wind, and sounds from afar were
heard with startling distinctness through
the death-like stillness. Birds were silent,
and the leafless branches of the trees and
bushes drooped sadly. The brooks and
rivers struggled feebly through the broken
ice. Peasants, with their hair white from
the freezing atmosphere, paused often in
their work to stamp their chilled feet on
the iron sod.
It was as dreary a winter day as had
been seen for the season, but withal a good
day for duck and woodcock shioting ; and
Willy Regan, the best shot in the parish,
took his fowling piece in hand, left his
warm cottage, and crossed the fields
towards a neighboring moor, where both
kinds of game abounded. His way lay
over an eminence, and he paused a while
to look down on the wintry prospect. It
was hard to conceive the dreary, frozen
country below him as it used to appear in
summer weather. Those ghastly, frost- I
crusted bushes growing by that iron road
—were they fragrant hawthorn brambles
that oast such sweet perfume on the warm
air, where Ellen had wanderad in delight
ful converse, or more delightful silence,
along the same road, shiny and pleasant in
THAT COUNTRY IS THE MOST PROSPEROUS WHIRR LABOR CKMMANDEI THE GILIATIBT SIMARD.' -
LANCASTER CITY, PA., TUESDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 8, 1863.
the bright month of May ? The smooth
expanse of deathly white streaked the
veins of frozen streams, looking inky black
in contrast—was it the smooth, daisy-be
spangled sward on which village children
played, making the summer evening ring
with joyous laughter ? It was hard to
believe that this death-like landscape was,
so short a time ago, so full of life and
beauty.
These thoughts were in Willy Regan's
mind as he plused a few moments on the
eminence referred to, and they made him
sad.
He resumed his way, reached the moor,
and the frequent reports of his fowling
piece soon resounded through the lifeless
air. Game was plentiful, and he did not
miss a shot. Yet he felt no exhilaration
in his sport, as he was wont to do. Again
and again, the sadness induced by that
look down on the wintry country, from the
hill, returned and oppressed him. Those
rambles under the perfumed hawthorn
trees, now so cold and ghastly ; seemed
memories of a past that was never to be
equalled by any future. It was in vain he
tried to cheer his mind by the recollectjon
that this white pall of snow would surely
pass away ; that the hawthorn trees would
bud and grow beautiful again; that after
dreary winter would come cheery spring
time ald glowing summer. It was in vain,
he said to himself, that Ellen would soon
be his wife, and mentally he pictured
scenes of domestic bliss and quiet oou
tentment. An opposing voice whispered
The trees may become beautiful again;
the snow may pass away; the spring and
summer may return joyous and sunny as
ever ; but you will never feel the happi
of the past again !'
A gloomy foreboding of evil, that could
not be shaken off, oppressed him through
out the whole of the leaden day.
He turned homewards when the sun was
sinking—blood-colored, without any of a
summee sunset's glorious beauty—behind
the western mountains. The house of his
betrothed was not very far out of his way,
and naturally enough, he resolved to call
there ere he went home. When within
about fifty yards of it, a woodcock sprang
from a furze-brake near him. He was car
rying his gun under his arm uncooked, so
he was not prepared to fire before the bird
was out of range. He stopped and looked
after it.
Willy, Willy, he's landed in the dyke
below the road,' called a man from a height
near him—it was Ellen Mangan's father.
Go straight on the road, Willy, and
you'll put him up.'
Willy creired both barrels of his gun,
and walked forward briskly. The moment
he reached the road, the woodcock sprang
again. The gun was raised and one barrel
discharged instantly, bringing down the
luckless creature quite dead.
Another besides the owner heard the
name Willy called ; one to whom the
owner and the name very dear—Ellen
Mangan. She came out of the house at
the moment that Willy fired at the wood
cock. Her lover saw her at once, and
turned down the road towards her, forget
ting to put down the hammer of the un
discharged barrel of his gun. Ellen came
forward to meet him, leaving the door
open, through which a bright fire was seen
to shine. They met, and Willy wound his
sinewy left arm around the beautiful girl's
graceful waist..
' How is my dearest Elly this evening
he whispered.
They waited until Mr. Mangan came
down from the height end joined them.
I am glad you came this way, Willy.
Nell has a nice dinner just ready.'
They then walked down the road to the
housa, Ellen now leaning fondly on Willy's
arm. All sadness had vanished from his
blow. As he felt the beating of that lov
ing little heart he so well knew was all
his own, what could he have to do with
gloomy forebodings 7 They reached the
threshhold, and the welcome odor of savory
viands floated out to meet them.
It makes me hungry to smell it,' said
Willy, with a laugh.
Ellen also laughed, and disengaging the
hand which Willy was pressing to her side,
entered the house.
She turned round when within the door
way, still laughing merrily, when Willy
slipped on a frost -covered stone without,
Pn d the loaded barrel of his gun went off.
Ellen screamed and fell.
With a wild cry of terror, Mr. Mangan
ran to her and raised her in his arms.
Willy stood silent and motionless, with
horror in every feature, on the spot where
the gun had fallen from his hand after
going oil. She gave a low sigh of pain
while lying against her father's breast, and
she murmured—
Willy, Willy !'
gMy love, my dearest love ! Oh ! good
God!' cried Willy, kneeling at her feet in
an agony of horror.
The terrified servants crowded around
confusedly. Mr. Mangan drew her softly
into the cheerful parlor, where the light
of the candles discovered the bosom of
her dress saturated with blood. She had
fainted.
6 Oh ? my good God !' murmured Willy,
striking his clenched hand against his
forehead.
Ride to town for the doctor, one of
you,' said Mr. Mangan, looking up fiercely
at the group of servants.
He was kneeling, still supporting the
senseless girl—her lovely head leaning
motionless against his breast.
Willy started, ran from the room, and
was in the stable saddling a horse in a,
moment. The next moment he was gal
loping madly through the yard to the road
that led to the adjoining town. Fast along
the road, over frost -encrusted stones and
hardened snowheaps, fast past stark trees
and dismal ice-prisoned brooks, fast by
cottages whose lights glimmered cheerfully,
on the cold, black night, and fast by mis
erable cabins, whose inmates, without fire
or food, froze and starved. So inta the
town and through it, tilt the gasping horse
was reined up at the doctor's house.
The doctor—a kind-hearted man, and
a skilful one in his profession—hurried out
from his pleasant hearth, surprised and
alarmed at the loud and continued knock
ing at his door. Few words passed, and
back along the bleak wood rattled the
doctor's gig, to which the horse Willy
brought was harnessed. In vain the doc
tor implored his young companion to spare
the exhausted animal ; lash after lash was
rained upon him to‘urge on his failing
speed, and the cruel whip drew blood from
his smoking flanks. Fast again along the
bleak road—no rest, no mercy for the horse
till the farm yard is reached.
'Easy now, easy now, said the doctor,
as' the servants , crowded around him, all
talking together! Let us be cool—one
at a time, one at a time. Is she sensi
ble 'l'
g No, sir; not now—she was a while ago,'
said an old woman. We put her to bed
a while ago, and she opened her eyes for a
bit, and—'
Now show ma the room. Let no one
come with me but Willy Regan.'
Willy and the doctor followed the old
servant woman through the little parlor
and up stairs to Ellen's room. Ellen lay
outside the ooverlet, still supported in her
father's arms, her head resting. on his
breast. She was, insensible.
The doctor opened the bosom of her
dress, gently washed away the clotted
blood, and examined the wc und.
Well, doctor V whispered Willy.
Very bad case I fear. Is it long since
she spoke ? Did she speak at all since it
happened ?'
Yea ; once before Willy went for you
—then she fainted. She opened her eyes
again since we brought her up here, and
called out ' Willy, Willy !' twice, very
low in voice—since that she did not stir.
Will she die, doctor ?' said Mr. Mangan,
in a soft, plaintive voice, terrible in its un
natural freedom from excitement.
I fear there's little hope ; but I'll do
what I can.'
She lay in a state of stupor all night and
the next day. The watchers never left her
bedside.
It was about six o'clock in the evening
of the next day when she opened her eyes
and gazed languidly about her. Her glance
after a while fell on Willy, and her face
lit up with an expression of joy. She
spoke in a barely audible voice. These
disconnected words were all that could be
understood—
'Willy—meant—to do—it—oh ! no —no
no !'
Perceiving that she was not understood,
she, with an effort of evident pain, said
clearly, and even loudly—
' Come to me, Willy.'
He came and took her hand. Fierce
self-reproach had, as it were, scorched his
eyes and left him no tears. Dark lines of
agony were visible on his face. He pressed
her hand silently to his heart.
' You could not help it, Willy,' she said,
slowly and distinctly, each word evidently
causing pain ; you could not help it, dear.
Good-bye.'
She raised herself quickly, and drew her
arms around his neck and kissed him,—
Then she sank back, murmuring—
' Pray for me, pray for me !'
And so she died.
The white-plumed hearse bore her across
the snowy road to the church yard a few
days afterwards, and the iron ground was
dug up, and they buried her. The grief
of her father and betrothed was silent, and
made no sign. They walked side by side
behind the coffin, and stood side by side
close to the grave as it was filled in.
Many people looked reproachfully at Willy
Regan, and the unrbservant or thought
less said his motionless face was evidence
of want of feeliug or remorse. But that
night, some laborers, returning home late
from the village, heard suppressed groan
ings as they passed the church yard.
Their curiosity overcame their terror, and
they peered over the wall, and saw a man
stretched on his face in the frost-whitened
grass of the newly -made grave. They
called to him, and then he started up and
walked away. But by the bright moonlight
they recognized grief-stricken Willy
Regan.
Time, the soother of every human ill and
affliction, in the course of years claimed
and softened the grief of her father and
relatives. Sho became a memory of the
past to them, the recalling of which was
not without a saddened satisfaction. And
no conversation gave more interest around
the winter fireside than a talk about poor
Ellen, whom they buried long ago—how
good she was, how ;gentle and how beau
tiful, and what a melancholy death was
hers.
And time, too, softened the passionate,
tearless agony which tore Willy Regan's
breast. But he was, from the day of the
burial, a changed man. Ho became very
gentle and reserved—he had heretofore
been open and fiery ; and, from being the
keenest sportsman and best shot in the
country, became morbidly nervous about
firearms—an eccentricity which increased
with his years, until the mention of a gun
was sufficient to recall all the first agony
of the less of Ellen, l and place wildly before
his mind vividly every circumstance of her
tragic death.
As he grew old, this eccentricity was all
that showed that he still had the memory
of his first and only love green in his
heart. He mingled as before in meetings
of business, and even sometimes of pleas
ure, and in the natural desire of rest from
work in recreation, l he became a passion
ate lover of the angle. He always turned
indifferently, if not with disgust, from the
proposals of marriage made by those who
take upon themselves the office of match
makers for the parish. And as his farm
was a good one, and his position respecta
ble, these proposals were frequent and
often troublesome.
However, it became pretty clear to these
self-elected supporters of Hymen, after re
peated failures, what was Willy Regan's
delermination, and they now allow him to
live tit,: life of an old bachelor.
Some years ago an old sign painter,
who was very cross, very gruff, and a little
deaf, was engagedto paint the Ten Com
mandments on some tablets in a church
not five miles from, Buffalo. He worked
two days at it, and at the end of the second
day the pastor of the church came to see
how the work progressed. The old man
stood by, smoking a short pipe, as the
reverend gentleman ran his eyes over the
tablets.
Eh ?' said the pastor, as his familiar
eye detected something wrong in the
wording of the precepts ; why, you care
less old person, you have left a part of one
of the commandments entirely out ; don't
you see ?'
No ; no such thing,' said the old man,
putting on his spectacles ; no ; nothing
left out—where
Why,, there,' persisted the pastor ;
look P t them in the Bible ; you have left•
some of the commandments out.'
Well, what if I have ?' said old Obsti
nacy, as he ran his eye complacently over
his work, what if r have ? There's more
there now than you'll keep!'
Another and a more oorreot artist was
employed the next day.
A FABLE.
How many persons, like the one spoken
of in the following fable, rely upon their
neighbors and friends to do their work
whilst they themselves loaf around the
the town,' in the shops of their more in
(lnterim neighbors, on the street corners
and various other places, discussing the
charaoter of this man and that woman,
whilst their business at home is suffering
for want of attention. Finally, because
no one else will do the work for them,
business dwindles away, and customers
seek other places of trade before the owner
thinks of saying I'll do it myself,' he is
without customers, and consequently with
out means to replenish his stook in trade
—hopelessly ruined :
An old lark, who had a nest of young
ones in a field of corn, which was almost
ripe, was not a little afraid the reapers
would be set to work before her lovely brood
were fledged enough to be able to be re
moved from the place.
One morning, therefore, before she took
her flight to seek for somathing to feed
them with, my dear little creatures,' said
she, be sure, that in my absence you take
the strictest notice of every word you hear,
and do not fail to tell me as soon as I
come home'
Some time after she was gone, in came
the owner of the field, and his son. ' Well
George,' said he, this corn, I think, is
ripe enough to be out down , so, to-mor
row morning, go as soon as you can see,
and desire onr friends and neighbors to
come and help us, and tell them we will
do as much for them the first time they
want us.'
When the old lark came back to her
nest, the young ones began to nestle and
chirp about her; begging her, after what
they had heard, to remove them as soon as
she could.
Hash,' said she, • hold your silly
tongues, if the farmer depends upon his
friends and neighbors, you may take my
word for it that this corn will not be reaped
to-morrow.' The next morning, therefore
she went out again, and left the same
order as before.
The owner of the field came soon after,
to wait for those he had sent for ; but the
sun grew hot, and not a single man came
to help him. Why, then,' said he to his
son, I'll tell you what my boy, those
friends of ours forgot us ; yon must
therefore, run to your uncles and cousins,
and tell them that I shall expect to see
them to-morrow early, to help us to reap.'
Well, this also the young ones told their
mother, as soon as she came home, and in
a sad fright they were. Never mind it,
children,' said the old one, for if that be
all, you may take 'my word for it that his
brethren and kinsmen will not be forward
to assist him as he seems willing to believe.
But mark,' said she,' , what you hear the
next time, and let me know without fail.'
The old lark went abroad the next day
as usual ; ;but when the poor farmer saw
that his kinsmen were as backward as his
neighbors why, then,' said he, since
your uncles and cousins so neglect us, do
you get a couple good sickles against to
morrow morning, and we will reap the
corn ourselves, my boy.'
When the young ones told their mother
this, Now, my little dears,' said she, we
must be gone, indeed ;for when a man re
solves to do his work himself, you may de
pend upon it, it will be done.'
Mr. Blifkin's First Baby.
BY B. P. SIIILLABER
The first baby was a great institution.
As soon as he came into this breathing
world,' as the late Wm. Shakespeare has it,
he took command in our house. Every
thing was subservient to him. The baby
was the balanoe wheel that regulated
everything. He regulated the temper
ature, be regulated the food, he regulated
the servants, be regulated me.
For the first six months of that precious
existence, he had me up on an average six
times a might.
Mr. 13lif kins,' says my wife, bring
that light here, do ; the baby looks
strangely ; I'm afraid it will have a fit.'
Of course the lamp was brought, and of
course the baby lay sucking his fist, like a
little white bear as he was.
Mr. Blifkins,' says my wife, 4 I think
I feel a draft of air ; I wish you would
get up and see if the window is not open
a little, beoause baby might get sink.'
Nothing was the matter with the window,
as I knew very well.
Blif kins,' said my wife, as I was going
to sleep again, that lamp, as you have
placed it, shines directly in baby's eyes—
strange that you have no more considera
tion.'
arranged the light an 4 went to bed
again. Jost as I was dropping to sleep
again,
Mr. Blifkins,' said my wife' did you
think to buy that aroma to-day for the
baby 7'
My dear,' said I, will you do me the
injustice to believe that I could overlook a
matter so essential to the comfort of that
inestimable child ?'
She apologized very handsomely, but
made her anxiety the soape-goat. I for
gave her, and without saying a word more
to her, I addressed myself to sleep.
Mr. Blifkins,' said my wife, shaking
me, g you must not snore so—you will
wake the baby.'
Just so—just so,' said I, half asleep,
thinking I was Solon Shingle.
6 Mr. Blifkins,' said my wife, will you
get up and hand me that warm gruel from
the nurse lamp for baby2—the dear child!
if it wasn't for its mother I don't know
what he would do. How can you sleep so,
Mr. Blifkins
4 I suspect, my dear,' said I, ' that it
was because I am tired.'
gO, it's very well for yon men to talk
of being tired,' said my wife; I don't
know what you would say if you had to
toil and drudge like a poor woman with a
baby.'
I tried to soothe her by telling her' she
had no patience at all, and got up for the
posset. Having aided in answering to the
baby's, requirements, I stepped into bed
again with the hope of sleeping.
Mr. Blifkins,' said she, in a louder
key. I said nothing.
4 0, dear,' said that estimable woman in
great apparent anguish, g how can a man,
who has arrived at the honor of a live
baby of his own, sleep, when he don't
know that the poor creature will live, till
morning
I remained silent, and, after a while,
deeming that Mrs. Blif king had gone to
sleep, I stretohed my limbs for repose.—
BUCHANAN.
How long 1 slept, l don't know,. but I was
awakened by. a-furious jab in the foreheid
j from some. sharp instrument. I started
up and Mrs. Blifkins was sitting up in bed
adjusting some portion of the baby's dress.
She had, in a state of semi -somnolence,
mistaken my head for the pillow, which
she enstoniarily used for a nocturnal pin
cushion. I protested against such treat
ment in sornewhatiounct terms—pointing
to givers' perforations in my forehead.
She told me should willingly bear such
ills for the salre.of the baby. I insisted
upon it that I didn't ithink my duty as s
parent.to the
_immortal, required the sur
render of my ; forehead as a pin -cushion.
This was one of the many nights passed
in this way. The truth is, that baby was
What every man's first baby is—an auto
crat—absolute and unlireited.^-,,,10
Such was the story of Blif kins as he
related it to us the other day. It is a
little exaggerated picture of almost every
man's experienee.—Boston Evening Ga
zette.
A SNAKE STORY.—During the Florida
war, said the speaker, I was in the Amer
ican Army. One day 1 shouldered my
gun and went in search of game. In , pass
ing through a swamp I saw something a
few feet ahead of me, lying, upon the
pound, which had every appearance of a
log, it being some forty feet in length,
and about a foot in diameter, So positive
was I that I saw nothing but a log that I
paid no attention to it ; the fact is I wo'd
have swore before a court of justice that it
was a log, and nothing else. You see - I
never heard of snakes growing to such
huge dimensions, and_
the fact is I never
should have believed it if I had. Well,
between me and the log, as I took it to be,
was a miry place, which it was necessary
for me to avoid. I therefore placed the
butt of my gun on the ground before me,
and springing upon it, lit right on top of
—What do you suppose
A boa constrictor, said one.
No.
What then
Just what I supposed it was—a log,
said the wag.
An officer who was inspecting his
company one morning, spied a private
whose shirt w is sadly begrimmed.
Patrick O'Flynn !' called out the cap
tain.
6 Here, your honor,' promptly respon
ded the man, with his hand to his cap
How long do you wear a shirt V than
dered the officer.
Jist 28 inches, yer honor,' was the re
oinder.
riE 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 preparod to
PRINT CHECKS,
NOTES, LEGAL BLANKS,
CAR
BILL HEADS AND HANDBILLS,DS AND CIRCULARS,
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 reason
ble terms and in a manner not excelled by any establish.
ment in the city-.
Air. Orders from a distance, by mail or otherwise'
promptly attended to. Address
• GEO. SANDERSON it SON,
Intelligencer Office
No. 8 North Duke street, Lancaster, Pa.
D R. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE
MENT.
THE GREAT E% TER NAL REMEDY.
FOR RHEUMATISM, GOUT, NEURALGIA, LUMBAGO,
STIFF NECK AND JOINTS, SPRAINS, BRUISES,
CUTS AND WOUNDS, PILES, HEADACHE,
AND ALL RHEUMATIC AND NER
VOUS DISORDERS.
DR. STEPHEN SWEET, OF CONNECTICUT,
The Great
DR. STEPHEN SWEET, OF CONNECTICUTNaturaI Bone Setter.
Is known all over the
DR. STEPHEN SWEET, OF CONNECTICUT, United States.
Is the author of "Dr. Sweet's Infallible Liniment."
DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT
Cures Rheumatism and never fails.
DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT
Is a certain remedy for Neuralgia.
DE. SWEET'S. INFALLIBLE LINIMENT
Cures Burns and Scalds Immediately.
DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT
Is the bast known Remedy for Sprains and Bruises.
DE. SWEET'd INFALLIBLE LINIMENT
Cures Headache immediately and was never known to fail.
DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT
Affords immediate relief for Piles, and seldom fails to cure.
DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT
Cures Toothache in one Minute.
DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT
Cares Cuts and Woande immediately and leaves no scar.
DR.. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT
Is the best remedy for Sores In the known world.
DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT
Iles been used by more than a million people, and all
praise it.
DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT
Is truly a "friend In need," and every family sivitld have
It at hand.
DR. SWEET'S INFALLIBLE LINIMENT
Is for sale by all Druggists. Price 25 and 50 cents.
RICHARDSON & CO.,
Bole Proprietors, Norwich, Ct.
Jgdii- For sale by all Dealers. [June 23 ly 24
FANCY FURS! FANCY FURS::
TORN PAREIRA,
718 Anon 13Tazz..
(below Bth south side,)
PHILADELPHIA.
Importer, Mannfactur
Maud Dealer in all kinds
PAITOY FURS!
for Ladies' and Children
I wish to return m:
thanks to my friends o
Lanouitei and the sot
rounding counties, for they
very liberal patronage en
tended to ine during th
last few years, and wont
say to them that I no,
have in etc--
,
Importation and Manufacture a very r — ii — rtensive assort
ment of all the different kinds and qualifier! of Fancy
Furs, for Ladles and Children, that will he worn during
the Fall and Winter seasons.
Being the direct Importer of all my Furs from Europe,
and having them ell Manufactured under my own atiper
vision—enablee me to offer my customers and the public
a much handsomer 'set of Purls for the same money.
Ladies please give me a call before purchasing! Please
remember the name, number and street.
JOHN FABEIBA,
No. 718 Arch Street, Philadelphia.
Erm
G REATEST VARIETY OF PHOTO.
GRAPH ALBUMS.
We would call the attention or persons to ow lap
stock of
PHOTOGRAPH ALBUMS.
We have the largest and best stock ever brought to the city.
OVER 100 DIFFERENT STYLES, VARYING IN PRIOR
FROM 76 CENTS TO 20,00 DOLLARS.
Oalrand see for yourself at
JOHN SHEAFFEB'S
Cheap Oash Book Store,
Y 8 North Queen street, Lancaster.
act 14 [Examiner, Titan and Inquirer copy.] tf 40
lICTIONEERI.N G
•
A BENJAMIN P. ROWE respectfully Informs the pub.
lic that he will attend to Crying Bales of Real and Personal
property in any !nut of the county.'
Those wishing his servicee are requested to apply to
Gerardo! 'Martian, .Eaq., at the Prothonotary's Mae, who
will promptly attend to the matter.
Letters addressed to me at Bmithsille P. 0., Lancaster
ounty, will be promptly attended to. 11111)17 tf 7
M 74,22,gt g5 4m 7 . 1
13A- - ..3,...
eti
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121 -1 fllnTeania4;
tore, of my owl
WHITE DIES HURT EULEAHERICA 3
THB OHIABEBT PAPER' THHLIBHEID
Porty-Elght Columns of Feeding Metter Per. Week
fortaal per , 'Year!
TIM ONLY NEW YORK PAPER, MARS UP &-
CLAMMILY FOR COUNTRY. OIROUL&TION.
New. of the Week, with the Cattle, Produce, end other
Markets, Carefully Reported.
NEW YORK D. 4 Y- - B0 0 X
8011 1864.
WHITE MEN'S LIMETITS--ETATEI RIGHTS.-
FEDERAL 17NION.
The New York Day-Bookis an Independent,'lternoolatio
Journal, holding, with the late &miter Douglas, that
" this Government lit made on the whits bUi by *ha*
men, for the benefit of white men and their posterity for
ever." It le a large double sheat,witb fort/' 104 columns
of reading matter, and in allll reepeein—w= for
Markets, News, Literary or Agricultural Iraq on—la
not inferior to any as a pelltical or fanilljnewsnaned In
Its political department, itgrapples boldly with e,real
el:melon before ,the Awe loan People , ; and pm : al . ..Lit
only philoeophy Of it which cart`rmtat the mat
of Abolltlonient. lelhiniddiatie in•thellbridnedi=f
the term—the defender of the People's. Bights; but 1$ ii
the upholder'of no party chleadery or: trickeryat i Ls dot
only for Peace, but irshows hoirjand hew only; ant
Peace can be obtained, and the gletiognfildt•
comment of Washington motored, visa by the utter route.
overthrow, and extermination of Abolitionism from
American soli • •.. ' •
. ..
~ _.. ~..
..
The Day-Book is now the only weekly political In
Naw , York 'city made up . esnltudVely! nu , ibinitiy,
tlon. All the others are rehashed, from the -00.411040 of
some dally piper, which , rendikir it 'almOirt lixtVWbiti 'to
give , ao con4date and general..a Summary o l 4 l 4it:fr fi
as In the ether case . Pentane' about itibscriblag bistd
take.this into consideration. - Ddcaparatsi also, Deist 10
it that sound . papers are circulated among I,he ple a , or
Abolitioulsed will never beiput down: ;. Alt &W 6 to
recite the arguments of Abolltloniatk 81101 d4 - ,10 0 4, X/ 0 ,
Day:Book.
:One Copy; one year =RAM
-I°Q
Three Copies, one, 00 .
Five Copies, one year.-- 7.50
Ten Copies, one year, and one'to idiagebc
ter up of the Cdnb ....... ..
Twenty Copies, onayear, and one ta‘tet.
ter up of the Club • ....Ste°
Additional Goides, each
The name thepost Mot, - epanty-tuld !Stabs, ididam
in all cases, ES plainly given in every letter. •
'Payment alwayd in a dtance, and all papers'
ped when the time of anbairiptimapaid fps expires.
' Address,
, VAN EVF/E, HORTON $
NU. 18/ Miaow StiOet, Niw TeAr•
SPECIAL OFFERS. •
We desire this year , hi placelkdbrit'alefilienPoflabrtharti
readers the groat doctrine , ' ti t s 4:4118°4 itZl,lll4
question of the Races. We confluetilly ve
journal were placed in thehands of prieddalf ,ttptoroto
of the northern States between this time and November,
1884, the Democrats could not fall to tarty tea Denali:!!;
deaths! election. We therefore make the followintuffetv,
net in' the light of prises; and notevenu belittles 'be
proiltable--for we can sweaty afford it--but Wlely . to
secure a widerdissemituttimi 'of the Views *Etat Ws pro
fouudly believe will save our country
CLUES OF TWENTY,
For a club of twenty beside thesxtra paper nosdadroba,
we will send a copy of Dr. Van -Everie's great wprk of
"Negroes and Negro Slavery,. ths third edition: of "Mon.
is Just ready. Price SLOO.
CLEM OF FIFTY.
- • •
For a club of fifty subscribers, at ESN Ire Will AP:ad, Ono
extra paper, and a complete set of our. " Anti-Abolition
Publications," the prices of 'which, taken MgethinVlMMtint
to $1.75.
_ _
CLUBS OF ONE E,ENDEED
- - • •...
In relation to clubs of one hundred, we will eay 4,144;
Whoever will scud us one hundred subscribers at obi tints,
the club to be sent to one address, sod begin end end at
the same time, we will receive thepspers at $lOOl
nov 17 tf 45) H. & Co.
TIE.. SWEET'S
JJ INFALLIBLE LINIMENT,.
ZILE GREAT EXTERNAL REMEDY. .
FOR RHEUMATISM, GOUT, NEURALGIA, GO,
STIFF NEM AND JOINTS,- SPRAXNSj
.IrIIMS
OUTS AND WOUNDS, PILES, HEADACHE,
AND ALL RHEUMATIC! AND NNE-
VCIII3 DIBOAPRatik.
For all of which It is a speedy and certain remedy, and
never falls. This Liniment is prepared fresh theancfpe hf
Dr. Stephen Sweet, of Connecticut, the famous bone eetter,
and has been used in his practice (Or' more , than't - Wahly
years with the most:astonishing success.
AB AN ALLEVIATOR OF PAIN, it Is unrivalledhy
preparation before the public, of ,which the most elhiPthall
may be convinced by a single trial..
This Liniment will cure, rapidly 'and radically,' itilea
mane Disorders of every kind, and in thousands of caeca
where it has been used it has never been known to
FOR NEURALGIA, it will afford immediate , relief In
every case, however distressing.
It wilt relieve the worst cases of HEADACHE to .tlaree
minutes and is warranted to do it.
TOOTHACHE also will it cure Instantly. • ,
FOB, NERVOUS DEBILITY AND GENERAL lkSilli.l—
arising - from imprudence or excese,' ! M6 idd is
a moat happy and unfailing remedy. Acting directly:intact
the nervous tissues, it strengthens and revivifies 'the *yd.
tern, and restores it to elasticity and vigor. ; I:
FOR PILES.—As an external remedy, we claim that it is
the best known, and we challenge the World to- prodirdiiaiu
equal. Every victim of this distressing complaint Sbesild
give it a trial, for it will not fall to afibrd ittlMBdlitetellef
and in a majority of cases will effect a radical cure: •
QUINSY AND SORE THROAT are sometfmed extreMilly
malignant and dangerous, but a timely application or till,
Liniment will never fall to cure.
SPRAINS are sometimes very obetanate, and enlarge.
Went of the joints is liable to occur if neglected. Thervrorst
case may be conquered by this Liniment In two' or three
days.
BRUISES, OUTS, WOUNDS; BORES. ULCERS, mi
and SCALDS, yield readily to the wondeifulheeding'pro•
pertiee of Dr. Sweet's Infallible Liniment when wad ac
cording to directions. Also, CHILBLAINS; PROMID
BEET, INSECT BITES and STINGS.
Every Horse Owner should hale' this remedy - at itinld,
for its timely use at the ant appearance of Ltimenaffll
effectually prevent those formidable dbalases,to Wadi all
horses are liable, and. which rebder , strimany'. othellebta
valuable horses nearly worthless.
Over four hundred voluntary teatbnonlale to the:vrontlei,
ful curative properties of this Liniment have been recelvpd
within the last two years, and many of them front y{eisbne
in the highest ranks of life. _
CAUTION.
To avoid Imposition, observe the Signature edulidltttaists
of Dr. Stephen Sweet on every label, and also n Stephen
Sweet's Infallible Liniment"' blown In the gWa' ditch
bottle, without which none are genuine.
SIOEIAIWSOI4 & 00,
Sole Proprietors, Norwleh, CIL
'Jtinele ly 21
For Sale by all Dealers.
ami .g.,17
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0 ' 4 Ifll-!
■W :111e,tita a =el m - -t
p,,LB 011,
oa - 217:8 2i
xf: 1 441:t 2 .: 4 111 6
4 "M 214 0M14t1 3 1
pt-510- 0 2414P11
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WIW 4. .g- ° 4 411 P2 00.
Iztt
m 0,22113 m
- " «; 222 rma,i.!°* El
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14 14 . 1 "10-. 'U.: .30 °AI
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•• •
& H. T. ANTIIONT, •
DIANETACTIIREAS OHPHOHOGRAITIO MATHIRLIT,4
501 BROADWAY, 'N. 'Y
CARD PHOTOGRAP.II.B
Our Catalogue now embraces considerably over YOUR
THOUSAND different subjects (to which additions are
continually being medalist Portraits of .I:aimed Amid.
cans, etc., viz:
72 Major Generals,
190 Brigadier Generals,
269 Colonels,
134 Lieutenant Colonels,
arr Other Officers,
60 Navy Officers,
525 Stateemen,
127 Divines,
116 Authors,
80
821111'.218iage,
46 Prominent Women,
147 Prominent Nonalmiatirtralts.
2,600 COPIES OF WORKS Olertß.T - ;„
Including reproductions of the met oelebrert4 7 ,l=
loge, Paintings, Statues, Ac. Ostalognee 'sent on to
Otamp. An order for one dosiin PIODMINBIfront oar
Catalogue will be filled on receipt of $l.BO, and - pinit by
malt, free.
PROTOGRIPHIC ALBUMS
Of these we matinfactrire a great' ririgingo
price from 50 cents tcrsso each,
Our ALBUMS have the'repotation . of beingitiprfriei
beauty and durability to en Y otherd. The amailerciiithde
can be sent safely by mild a Postage Of dz cent& psi OS.
The more expensive can be sent by exprem
We also keep a large assortmon t-cd 17.111111BOOPER
AND STERESCOPIO VIEWS. Ournittal of3h e will
be sent to any addrilks on receipt of Siam -, 8., .T.
ANTHONY; Manufacturers of Photegriphio 601
Broadway, New York. • , .
Friends or relatives of prominent ndlitaryinenwiti non•
for a favor by sending us their likenesses to copy.: They
will to kept careffilly and returned UnDijureal.
Pine Albums niade:to order for Coneeptions tia Premien*
to their Pastor, or for other purposbei witli suitable in
scriptions, fro. - tatigloB6lkir
ULIEA.PEUEIFVE , CHEAP noon - 'll.
0 . lio.•32zraßTH.QmorMer_."- •
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• LEAD AND SEAM PIRO
- .TE4A - ANDM
• I. -
and the best end:matt emoplate nArthisztt o ' fy li y
SCHOOL STATIONER Y'THE
Ap- Liberal discounts made to Teachers and iL•ichanfis
SNEAEFEE'S
Cheap Oath Booktta
X 62 sior.
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NO. 48. A