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COMMUNICATIONS setting forth the claims of individuals for office, Ac., to be charged 10 cents per line . December 18th, 1863. the nbOVe Schedule of Prices was unanimously adopted by the undersigned, Publishers iu be City of Lancaster, Pa. JNO. A. HI ESTAND A CO., Examiner & Herald. PEARSOL A GEIST, Dar 7y & Weekly Ea-press. JOHN BAER'S SONS, Volksfreund. OPAL SANDERSON A 001. Ints S. A WYLIE, Daily Meekly nquirer. W5l. B WILEY, Job Printer. E. H. THOMAS, Church cdrocale SOMEBODY'S DARLING Into a ward of the whitewashed halls, Where the dead and dying lay, Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls, Somebody's Darling was borne one day— Somebody's Darling, so young and so brave, Wearing yet on his pale, sweet face, Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave, The lingering light of his boyhood's grace Matted and damp are the curls of gold, Kissing the snow of that fair young brow Pale are the lips of delicate mould— Somebody's Darling is dying now. Back from his beautiful - blue-veined brow, Brush all the waudering waves of gold ; Cron his hands on his bosom now, Somebody's Darling is still and cold. Kiss him once for ,uuaub.dy's sake Murmur a prayer soft and low One bright curl from its fair mote , take They were somebody's pride, you know Somebody's hand bath rested there, Was it a mother's, soft and white, And have the lips of a Firil or fair Been baptized iu their Watres et light God knows beet ! be woe somebody's love ; Somebody's heart enshrined him there; Somebody wafted his name above, Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away, Looking so handsome, brave, and grand Somebody's kiss on his forehead ley, Somebody clung to his parting hand. Somebody's waiting and watching for him— Yearning to bold him again to their heart; And there he lies, with his bins oyes dim, And the smiling childlike lips apart. Tenderlybury the fair young dead, Pausing to drop in his grave a tear ; Carve on the wooden slab at his bead, "Somebody's Darling slumbers here." (Sunday Chronicle ) ALLEN ELLSWORTH S HOME It was a blustering night in March t cold without, but within were light and warmth. The fire glowed brightly in the grate, and I sat with folded hands, and the last number of the Atlantic open on my lap. I had been reading, but drop ped the book to listen to the wind as it surged in fitful gusts around the house. Two years before, on just such a nigh t as this, there fell on me the heaviest grief that has ever darkened my life. My husband, in the pride and strength of his manhood, was taken from me, and in my desolate home I was left to wail over sundered ties, and to face alone the dreary, dreary future which loomed up mockingly before me. And on this night of which I am writing, my heart was aching with its burden of oneliness, and longing for a pressure of the hand that would never clasp mine again, and the light of fond eyes that never looked coldly into mine. In these sad thoughts I was losing self. control, and with a mighty effort turned the current of my thoughts into the chan nel of every-day affairs. " I think I must call on our new neigh bor, Mrs. Ellsworth, to-morrow." I said aloud. "What if we should find Mr. Ells worth to be our old school-mate and friend. Mrs. Wentworth tells me they are from the Empire State. "What were you saying, Milly ?" and my brother glanced up from the paper which had so engrossed his attention, he had not heard my remark. I had repeat ed it. "Ah ! I was not aware we had new neighbors. lam sure you have not men tioned the fact to, Milly " "I know I have not, Will ; but 1 have had so many things to say to you since your return that I have not even thought of them, and I did not learn their name till yesterday." " Well, I'll make some inquiries to-mor row, and if it is Allen Ellsworth 1 will make myself known to him; we can't af ford to be strangers in this country," said Will, and resumed his reading while I sat idly gazing into the fire. The name aroused a host of delightful recollections. How vividly it brought to mind my childhood's home--the low brown house half hidden by the luxuriant grape-vine, whose fruit was such a tvinp tation to juvenile fingers from the time it first took on a ripening - tinge till it hung in rich and glowing purple clusters amid the dark green leavrs. And the two locust trees, the delight of my young eyes, tossing up their sprays of creamy blossoms to the truant breeze. And pleasanter than all, the family gath ering on the long low porch, when the cares of day were over, and the sky was all aglow with the brightness of sunset. Closely interwoven with these pleasant associations was the memo of our friend Ellsworth—t Al. we alwayEilled him— who so often made one of our number. The nest morning I equipped myself _for, a walk down town. It was a beautiful morning, sunny, the air clear and braoing, 4 walked rapidly, -the exercise sending the blood bounding along my veins in a warm, healthful current. As I approached a small white house with an ample yard in front I saw a gentleman standing at the gate. A second glance told me who it was. I should have known him anywhere. I wondered if he -would recognize me. I thought not ; for I had changed much since we parted years before. I stopped as I came opposite the gate. "Good morning, Al," I said lightly, as if we had parted but yesterday ; and held out my hand. He appeared surprised and bewildered for an instant,then a bright smile broke over his face- the old-time smile which used to make him so hand_ some, and he grasped my hand and shook it cordially. "hilly Carlton !is it you, or am I dreaming?" he exclained. "It is hilly, and you are not dream. ing," I answered. " I am glad—very glad to see you," he said, as he opened the gate and pass ed out "I was just about starting to go down street, so I will walk with you: I have a thousand things to say to you, Mil -1 ly—yon must come and see us." interrupted him here. •So you are married at last. I thought you were determined to live and die a bachelor; however,' am glad you changed your mind. Whom did you marry, any one I knew ?" " No, Milly ; I married Cora Brand, a Michigan girl. She will be delighted to see friend of mine: she has been very lonely ~rote we came to this place." We Walked on, asking and answering questions until our paths diverged. I will certainly call on your wife soon I said at parting, and bade him good morn Very pleasant was the little sitting-room into which I was ushered that bright after noon, with its crimson curtains, crimson covered lounges and ottomans, and the sunlight falling in flickering brightness on the warm-tinted carpet. And a fair, sweet face had its mistress, Cora Ellsworth; shaded by curls the color of a ripe hazel_ nut, and eyes of the same hue. I intro duced myself, and received a warm wel- Allen has been telling me of you," she " I ;an I , Ti glad to meet you. We have been here some time, but I have made no acequaintanee vet. Is it not strange you and Allen have not met be- " Ii ;.q," l replied, " though I have not been out as much as usual this winter. You must have been very lonely here." I har , e been—indeed, I have been quite home sick"—and a slight shadow flitted over the fair face, and hid itself for a moment in the depths of the clear brown eyes—only for a moment, however. I was so much pleased with the little lady. that my call was much longer than I had intended, and I rose to go. You will come and see me now?" 'Come at any time, without sere mony. We are going to be the best of friends, you know." Yes, indeed ; I think we will," she answered. taking both my hands in hers, while tears stood in her beautiful eyes.— Involuntarily I bent down and pressed a kiss on the white b'row, and vowed in my inmost heart to be as a sister to her. Time rolled on. April came, with her coquettish smiles,and tears, and frequent bursts of petulance and passed. Then May—with her timid offering of violets and anemones, her soft breezes and genial sunshine, wooing the bright blossoms forth ;—then, with frowns and chilling glances, keeping them in a fright ened shiver till her wayward mood had passed. Then came fairy-footed June—garlands in her hair, and witching smiles in her deep blue eyes and wherever her foot steps passed, sprang up, as by magic, roses with crimson hearts, golden buttercups, and clover bloom. On right loyally she moved, to the music of the bird-band and the murmur of water falls. The acquaintance, begun three months before, ripened into intimacy. If I was at first charmed with Cora Ellsworth, I grew to love her now for her truthfulness and sweet disposition. As our acq-ain Lance progressed, I noticed at times a shade of sadness on her face, sometimes stealing into the tones of her voice. At length it grew to be habitu al. Very seldom was she in a cheerful mood—never joyous. Almost every fine day we were out walking or riding, often into the country. She always seemed happiest when alone with me. That there was trouble between Cora and her husband I could not fail to see, and the cause of it was equally apparent. She had never been a good housekeeper, but I thought it was more from a lack of knowledge and I experience than from a desire to shirk any duty or responsibility. I saw with deep I regret that she grew more and more care less in the performance of household duties, and in regard to personal appear- She displayed exquisite taste in dress, and when arrayed for a ride or walk, or for church, always looked charming. But many times I had seen her at the break fast table, with hair uncombed, and thrust carelessly back into a net, a soiled wrap per with buttons off and pockets torn down, while the tablo arrangements were anything but inviting. I had known Allen from boyhood. Lie was always scrupulously neat in his attire and habits. Indeed, his mother used of ten to till him he was "more nice than wise," though she was as neat as need be, and a model housekeeper. ! Knowing this. I could well understand how annoying—not to use a stronger term —was this carelessness on the part of his young wife. Like many others, he did not in the least seek to conceal his cha- grin and mortification at her shortcom ings ; so, instead of smiles, there were cross looks and curt answers, widening daily the breach between •them. More than once he had so far forgotten himself as to speak harsh, cutting words to her in my presence—words which drove the blood from cheek and. lip; and left her white as the fades laid away under the springing grasses; but there was no retort "TEAT 001INTRY LB TAII YOST PBOSP .11e '• - • : 1 -BUORANAN. LANCASTER CITY: PA., TUESDAY MORNING, MAY 3, 1864. —only a quiver about the compressed lips; and when next she spoke she was calm, her voice even, but very low, as if she feared to trust it. I loved Cora dearly, notwithstanding her faults; and so longed to help her out of this trouble, which was stealing all joy and gladness from her heart. One day, immediately after I had taken my dinner, I called in to invite Cora to take a ride with me a short distance into the country. I found them seated at the dinner-table, and knew from their coun tenances there had been dissension be tween them. Sitting down, 1 made known my er rand. "I would like to go very much," she said, her face brightening. -You had better stay at home and go to work : you'll find enough to do. There isn't a clean place in the house, nor any thing fit to eat ;" and with this encourag ing remark Allen quitted the table and the house. Cora burst into tears. He had exagge rated, as people are very apt to do when in a passion, and had wounded her by sp( aking in such a manner in my pres ence. "I am mortified and ashamed, Milly, that you should have witnessed anything like this in our house," she said. I was fully determined now that she should go ; so I bustled around cheerfully, assisting with the work, and very soon we were on the road. We road on a mile or two in silence, turned to make some observation to Cora She had taken off her hat, and was lean ng back in the carriage, gazing up at the blue sky, and soft, fleecy clouds floating lazily along. Her face was pale, and the shadows in her eyes deeper and darker. "Cora!" I said ; and the words leaped right out of my heart; "can't I help you in your trouble? I wish I could do or say something that would comfort you, and make you happier." The tears sprang into her eyes now. "Dear Milly, your society is the only comfort I have, and believe me your love is all that keeps me from utter dsepair. I am very unhappy ; you do not need to be told the cause. Everything has gone wrditg with us ever since we were married. We did not right. I urged Allen to defe our marriage for a year, or until I could perfect myself in the art of housekeeping, but he would not listen to me, saying I could easily learn all that it was necessary for me to know—that such knowledge came naturally to a woman, and that a very little practice would make perfect; &c. I remained at home about a month before we went to housekeeping. For awhile I did the best I could. We were among entire strangers, and there was no one to whom I could go for advice, so 1 plodded on alone. I could not please my husband in anything. He is very particu lar about his food, as perhaps you know, and I have never cooked anything to suit him yet. It is always either over or under done, too sweet. or too sour, too salt or too fresh, the coffee too strong or not strong enough, or muddy. In short, fault-finding has become habitual. I have grown hard ened, I suppose, for lately I have made but little effort. I have no heart for any thing. Many and many 1, night I have wished I might never behold the morn ing." She said this, not passionately, but with a hopeless air, as if she was in very truth weary of the life which had in it so much disappointment and heartache. " Cora," I said, laying my hand on hers, " I think I can help you if you will try to help yourself. You shall have the benefit of my knowledge and experience as far as it goes ; but you must rouse your self out of this morbid state of mind ; it will cost you an effort to conquer the apathy which is stealing over you, but you must do it if you would accomplish anything towards a better and happier life, and you will need more help than any earthly friend can give you. Dear child, you have not forgotten how to pray, have you ?" I'm afraid so, Milly : it is so long since I dared to pray. Sometimes when I look back on the old days at home, and remem ber how happy I was, and the bright anti cipations I had of the future, it seems as if my heart would break. My married life has been a bitter disappointment. I know I have done wrong, but if I should do ever so well now it would be of no use. Allen will never be to me what he has been in times past; we have gone too far apart ever to dream of happiness again." She was weeping bitterly now. "Don't say that, Cora ; don't lose all hope and trust in the future. It looks cheerless to you now, but don't despair.— You fancy your husband's love for you died out, but you are mistaken ; it is only hidden for a season by pride and selfish ness ; and sometime, when you come to see with a clearer vision, and have found the only road that leads to true happiness, it will come again to brighten your path way. Be hopeful, be brave, dear Cora.— Do not be discouraged if Allen fails to commend you for any improvement you may make or success you may meet with. Be patient! Thousands of women have lived and died unappreciated. It is a sad life, but, after all, the approval of one's own conscience is worth more than the praise of men. I know how a woman's heart hungers and thrists for words of ap probation from those we love; but we must not ' weary in well-doing,' must not faint nor falter by the way because they are withheld. There's a reward for us in the world that sets this right.' " We did not drive far—neither were in the mood to enjoy fully the beauty of the day, so I turned our horse's head home ward. I set Cora down at the little white gate. "Pray for me, ldilly, she said, as she held my hand at parting, andlhere was a world of entreaty in. eye and voice. " God helping me l will do•the right:" - Theiiyeo4qiror.qto4l3,,iTltry Au gust into Set,tertiber. I not weary you, my reader, with a detail of the changes wrought in Allen Ellsworth's house in those six weeks. Cora toiled patiently and perseveringly; seeking constantly Divine assistance, with that she could not fail. Butl saw with sorrow and indigna ti ) that her husband seemed indifferent as ever. I could see how she longed for a return of the old tenderness, or at least a word of encouragement. He did not find so much fault as formerly—he could not. Cora had improved wonderfully in every respect, but he did not seem to notice the pains she took to please him— the care she manifested for his comfort. I was sitting on the west porch one fine morning with my sewing thinking of all " His conduct is unnatural and inex plicable," I thought ; and I was so indig nant that I thought aloud. " Never mind I'll wake him up one of these days if I have a chance." I had not long to wait for one. In less than half an hour I saw him coming in at the gate. He sauntered slowly up the walk, answering my " good morning" with a smile and bend of head; and sitting down on the step below me, took off his straw hat, and ran his fingers carelessly through his hair the moist rings of clustering in his forehead white as a woman's. " I called into say good-by,' Milly," he said. " I have taken a job in Grafton, which will keep me from home five or six weeks, perhaps longer. How nice and cosy you always look here," he added, after a pause. " I have a very pleasant home," I re plied. "I think I could not be as con tented anywhere else. It is no pleasanter though than yours will be to you a hen you have been in it long enough to feel at home. Indeed, I think yours a much finer location. And, by the way, there has been a decided improvement made in your front yard within a week ; I was passing last evening, but had no time to call." " Yes," he replied, " it does look a little better. Cora has been trying to straighten things out generally, in doors and out. It won't , amount to much ; in less than six weeks everything will look as bad as ever. She has brightened up wonderfully within the last few weeks, but I expect'she will be back in the old track again before long." Do you ever try to encourage or help ier along ?" I asked. " What do you mean'? I provide a home, ood, and clothing ; and all she has to do s to take care of it; it is a woman's buei less. What more can I do?" " Shall I tell you ?" I asked again. " Yes," he replied, " I should like to know;." " You can notice kindly any improve ment she may make, either in doors or out, and give her an encouraging word when you see she has tried to please you in anything. You can avoid finding fault with her for every little thing she neglects to do or does wrongly. You can take an interest in whatever interests her, and treat her with •the forbearance and gentle ness due a wife—in short, you can be to her somewhat of all you promised to be' when you took her from home and friends, and brought her among strangers. You ought to be to her such a loving, tender husband, such a kind counsellor and dear friend, that she should scarcely miss a father's care and a mother's love. But you are not. Your conscience will tell you that. Cora is easily discouraged—she cannot en dure neglect, and needs a warns, true heart, and a strong arm to help her trough this world. Thank God! she has turned over a new leaf. There will be many mis takes at first, and a good many tears shed in consequence ; but there will be no wavering nor turning back. I'll vouch for her. So if your home is not hence forth as pleasant and happy a one as can be found on this sinful earth, you will have no one to blame but yourself." I glanced at him to note the effect of my words ; but save a slight flushing of the brow and compression of the lips, his face did not betray his thoughts. He rose and held out his hand. I am obliged to you for your lecture, Milly ; I don't think I shall forget it. You are my friend, else I am afraid I should not have listened so calmly to it," and he was gone. One evening near the middle of Sep tember, I received a telegram from a dis tant city, summoning me to my brother's bed-side. He had been gone from home two months. My preparations were quick ly made, and long before daylight I was on my way. I left a note for Cora, ex plaining my abrupt departure, and prom ising to write her soon. It was nearly two months before my brother was able to be taken home. We proceeded thither by slow and easy stages, arriving late at night. Before we had risen from our late break fast the next morning Cora came in. She shook hands with brother Will, express ing her pleasure at seeing him home again, and looking so well. " Milly ! dear, dear Milly, I can't tell you how glad I am to see your dear face once more." How full of life and health she was.— Her cheeks were glowing, and eyes spark ling. I looked down into their clear I depths—there was no shadow there now— thank God! You may go the wide world over, and you'll not find a happier home than is Allen Ellsworth's to day. WHAT .OUR PARLOR SHOULD BE.-Ik Marvel (Donald (1. .Mitchell) has penned many touchingly beautiful and long-to-be remembered sayings, but the following is among his latest and best: Don't keeb,' he observes, a solemn parlor, into which you go but once a month, with your par son or sewing society. Hang around your walls pictures, which tell stories of mercy, ' hope, courage, faith and charity. Make your living room the largest and most ' cheerful in the house. Let the plane be such that when your boy has gone to dia -1 taut lands, or even when, perhaps, he clings to a single plank in the lone waters of the wide ocean, the thought of the still homestead may come across the desolation, bringing always light,. hope, and love.— Ilawe • no• dungeons about your touse, no room , you. never omi no blinds that are always shut.' - • - A STORY FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS The Fairy Grinotte. A FREE TRANSLATION FROM THE FRMICH The Fairy Grignotte was a little mouse, the prettiest little mouse that ever nib bled upon earth. She leaped and frol-' icked, and was never still except when she was planning some new prank. It was her great pleasure to tickle the feet of children and run up their legs,, thus making them laugh when they were tak ing their lessons. This made the master scold, because be thought they were laugh ing at him. She did not make them laugh at their play ; no, indeed ! that was then permitted ; and Mademoiselle cared very little for anything that was permitted but as soon as they were in class, or at mass, which was stall worse, she arrived brisk and malicious, and there was no extravagance which she did not invent to excite their merriment. The children:who knew nothing about the fairy Grignotte, did not themselves understand the cause of their gayety. " Why did you laugh?" asked one of his comrade. " I laughed because I saw you laugh. Why did you ?" " I laughed 'at that great simpleton Melibert, who laughs yonder like a fool. See him now holding his sides." And both laughed again still more heartily, because the fairy was, unknown to them, tickling their feet. Meanwhile the master bewailed the heedlessness of his pupils and showered upon them tasks and punishments. Their parents were indignant that they could not take home their children on Sunday, after giving themselves the trouble to go for them. The children wept upon seeing them depart; but as soon as they were ag:iin in class, the wicked fairy was at her pranks and the laughing recommenced. They laughed everywhere ; while eating, running, weeping even, yes, while weep ing, and doing penance with the fool's cap upon the head. It is true that this punishment, now out of fashion, was well adapted to amuse. Two Sundays passed, and all the Bohol lars were detained except one who was always so sad and sullen that there was no chance to punish him for his gaiety• He was older than the rest and was nam ed Louis. His comrades saw him depart with envy, and in the..evening after his return, they overwhelmed him with sting ing-jokes. "How do you manage, dog of a hypo crite, to keep sober when every-body else aughs ?" "I work," replied Louis. "That's a fine answer. We also work, but there are times when nothing can hinder us from laughing. Why don't you laugh." "Because I wear nails in my shoes." "How do your shoes help you?" asked a boy named Richernont. "They help me to kick so hard the fai ry Grignotte that she no longer meddles with me." "Grignotte!" repeated all the children. "Who is the fairy Grignotte ?" "She is," replied Louis, "a wicked mouse who causes all your chagrin." "A mouse !" echoed Richemont; "ah ! yes, Grignotte (nibbler) is one name for a mouse. And you pretend that it is she who gets us scolded. How ?" “She tickles you under the table and makes yod laugh." "Alt well ! we will do as you do ; we will put nails in our shoes." "You would do better to put a trap" A mouse-trap in my shoe exclaimed an ingenuous little boy. "No idiot ! a mouse trap under the table with some bacon inside." "Bacon !" echoed Ricliemont "Can one take , a fairy also with bacon ?" "Certainly, when the fairy is a mouse. Try it: you will see that when Grignotte shall have been taken, the master will not scold you." Several boys refused to believe in the existence of the fairy Grignotte, and those who had faith in this explanation of their mirth would not admit that a fai ry mouse Would allow herself to be caught and above all to be caught with bacon. In the midst of the conversation, the master entered. He bad just been look ing at a summer-house which he was build ing in the garden, and,without perceiving it he had leaned against a newly finished wall and bedaubed himself with plaster. His back was white, from his shoulders to his feet ; but this did not prevent his be ing as grave and severe as usual. The children no sooner saw hie baCk, as be walked in his classes, than the fairy Grignotte tickled their legs, and they began to giggle foolishly. The young er ones broke out first; the older ones bit their lips, made believe cough, picked up a pen which had not fallen, and invented all sorts of contortions to conceal their laugh. One of them, especially, twist ed his mouth into frightful grimaces across which a mischievous smile betrayed itself in spite of him. The master was not the dupe of this hypocrisy, and he asked with , severity, " What are you doing, sir? Who are you laughing so ?" " I am not laughing, sir," replied the naughty fibber. "It is a pain in my teeth, which I have had since morning, and which draws my mouth upon either side, and gives me the appearance of laughing, although I do not wish to do so." At this unworthy lie the pupils could not keep their countenance, and the fairy recommenced her prpmenades. This time the laugh was sudden and general. Louis, himself, found that the nails in his shoes were not sufficient to defend him. He began to laugh, and his gaiety was so much the greater because it was rare. Lt was a coarse German laugh, a heartiness of fun which fell upon the master like an injury. "You, also, sir do you mingle in the mirth ?" 'cried the poor master, in a fury impossible to paint, and he walked up and down, showing at every turn his white back, the cause of all the trouble. •Th'e more angry he grew the more the children laughed, and the more the fairy Grignotte tickled their legs. At length the master's - patience gave way. "Young gentlemen," said he, "so much insubordination merits a striking punishment. The whole class will be kept in for the third time! Not one of you will go out on Sunday ; not a single one do you understand?" With these words the indignant master left the room; but as the fairy, frightened by his coarse voice, had returned to her hole, the children no longer laughed, and the white back which he shewed when departing failed to excite' their mirth.— They were dismayed. For two Sundays they had not seen their parents, and they knew very well how vexed they would be when they should be refused to them for the third time. The younger ones began to weep, because they were the most in nocent ; the older ones were furious, be cause they were the most criminal. When one is in the wrong, one is glad to lay the blame upon somebody else, and those among the pupils who had the most stoutly denied the existence of Grignotte yielded their doubt, now that they had so fine an opportunity to accuse her. Scarcely had the master left the class when the anger burst forth. " Grignotte !" cried they, " wicked Grignotte! She has casted all our mis fortunes !" " Yes," said Richemont, one of the naughty leaders of the school, "it is Grignotte, I am sure, I felt something touch my legs when the master was speak ing." " It was I," said an '-...mest little boy, who did not think it was necessary to tell an untruth in order to accuse another, and who, beside, felt already a sympathy for Grignotte. "Ah! it was you ?" replied Richemont, impatient at being interrupted in his lie. " Well, take this, to teach you to push against my legs;" and so saying, the wicked boy gave the open-hearted little one a heavy blow with his fist. . Then, transported with anger, he jump ed upon a table, crying. " Vengeance !" and all his comrades echoed " Ven geance !" There was a concert of injurious epi thets heaped upon the unhappy Grignotte. Each one, according to his character, said something stinging, and as there were at least thirty pupils in the class, the uproar was stunning. One heard only "Grignotte ! Grignotte ! Detestable Grignotte ! Infa mous Grignotte ! Abominable Grignotte ! Perfidious Grignotte, the chief ! Grignotte, the hypocrite ! Little scoundrel of a Grig notte I Grignotte the spy ! Grignotte the coquette !" When the epithets were exhausted, re grets commenced. Each one recalled the pleasure which had been promised for the fatal Sunday—this third and fatal Sunday which they were condemned to pass in the school. "Sunday !" cried one ; truly it is the fete at St Cloud: Mamma was going to take me there. " Sunday !" exclaimed another ; also my aunt's festival day ; we were to enjoy it at her house ! " And papa was to take me to Franconi! And me to the Botanical Garden ! And me to the royal Mass! As for me, my un cle has given me a gun ! And my brother has bought me a pony ! And grandpapa has given me a watch ! And mamma is sick ! And my sister is to be married! And my tutor is in London !" The best speaker of the class declared that there was not a moment to lose; that they must at all events seize Grignotte ; that they should have no peace until Grignotte should be taken : that the tak ing of Grignotte would alone appease the anger of the master. " The master is too just," he cried—hoping, perhaps, to be overheard by him—" he is too just, I say, to punish us for the crime of another. I do not dobbt that when he shall have learned that Grignotte is alone to blame, he will pardon us and all his anger will fall upon her." The pupils clapped their hands at this speech and the orator profited by their enthusiasm to collect money enough to buy a little bacon and a mouse-trap. Each pupil gave two cents, and he soon found himself in posesssion of a sum large enough o procure where withal to catch all the mice in the quarter, and even some of the great rats over the market. It was Tb ay, and there were yet two long days t. a • e to the numerous mea sures which were to secure to the pupils their beautiful Sunday. There strata gem was in train, The trap was bought; the bacon was broiled ; the children to attract the poor fairy, scattered crumbs of bread in all the rooms of the school. It was a pity to see so much enmity and anger against such a little mouse. Poor Grignotte knew nothing of these plots. After the day in which the master flew into a passion, she fled; and concealed herself in a school of young girls, where she kept up her frolics ; for little girls are still greater gigglers than little boys. See ing miet re-established among the pupils, she returned on Friday evening to sleep in her accustomed hole, far from suspect ing the treacher which awaited her. When she entered there was no one in the class ; all the pupils were in the dormi ties. She ran up and down under the benches and was agreeably surprised to, find so many crumbs of bread upon the floor. As she ate these without injury she suspected nothing. From crumb to crumb she reached the treacherous bacon, when, alas ; she was no longer cautious, the im- prudent one! Scarcely had she tasted the deceitful dainty than she heard a terrible noise— terrible for a moose—that of a trap falling. The poor fairy at this moment was as un happy as a real mouse, because she was a fairy of the second order, and had no power. Her Part in the world was to ex cite laughter, and nothing is more con temptible than that. She felt at the first instant the whole extent of her misfortune, apa she passed the entire night groaning and.be . 'The next morning when the pupilei coked into the trap they felt a wild joy feobious joy, ajoy of culpable triumph. " Toqhe cat ! to the cat t" cried they im mediately, to frighten her ; for it is the instinct of cruelty which leads us to pro claim before our victim the name of his enemy ; in truth it is the most cruel of outrages They placed the trap upon table, and all the pupils seated themselves upon the. benches and prepared to judge Grignott e First; they exhibited all..heir grievanoe and they were numerous ; the poor fairy trembled. Several ungenerous pupils me- naced her with the list ; others fixed thee, eyes on her with a terrible expression ; hese said to her a thousand injurious things, those, gaily ornel, made her a housand ironioal compliments "See how pretty she is," said they, "Poor prisoner, she excites my pity 1" The little ingenuous one, believing them sincere in their interest for her, and knowing nothing of irony, took them at their word in their friendliness and joined his sincere and honest pity to their per fidious compassion. "Isn't she very-pret ty ?" said he ; "she looes like a little rab bit." Poor child! this praise cost him a blow of the fist. Meantime, the master was upon the point of returning, and it was necessary to hurry the mouse to a confession of her crime. "We are about to deliver you to the master," said Louis to the unhappy fairy ; "his wife has a cat who will do you justice." "To the eat ! to the cat I" they cried all together, even to the little honest one who feared he should be otherwise be beaten. "Gentlemen," said the - fairy, "conde scend to listen to me. I confess that I: have been very much to blame in drawing upon you heavy punishments. I do not attempt to excuse myself. Alas! I know it too well—those who suffer from our faults cannot find excuses for them. I am aware of mine, gentlemen, and I do not address myself to your clemency but to your reason. It is to your interest that I appeal. If you accuse me to your mas ter, he will not believe you. Your cruelty will be useless while your pity will be pro• fitable." " Ala well ! at any rate," said one of the judges, " this reasoning affects me. We give you your life, but swear to us that you will never make us laugh otherwise—" " Albs ! how can I make a promise which it will be impossible to keep Have confidence in me ; I cannot swear not to make you laugh, but I engage never again to make you groan. Is not that sufficient And not only shall you never groan hence. forth, but your past faults shall be pardon edand I promise you that you shall go out on Sunday ." "We shall go out on Sunday I" the boys cried all together. "We shall go, out on Sunday ! Sunday ! 1 shall go to_ the fete of St. Cloud ! And Ito my aunt's fete! And Ito Franconi with papa! And Ito the Botanical Garden! And Ito the royal mass.! And I shall have my gun ! And I shall ride my pony!' And I shall go to the Tuileries with my watch ! And I shall go to my sister's wedding! And I shall go to see mamma! And I shall walk without my tutor I" But soon this fine hope vanished. The evening of Saturday came and the child ren had not obtained their pardon. They began to suspect their prisoner and to re pent their clemency. The little fairy had no time to lose in executing her projects ; she meditated them in silence, awaiting a favorable opportunity. At supper time all the pupils collected in the refectory. A great dish of beans was served for them, which did not look too palatable. The broth was so clear and so abundant that I believe the whole fountain had passed over them. The sad beans floated in the dish as if shipwrecked. Richemont, who, as we have already said, was maliciously gay, after having vainly pursued a bean upon this ocean, that is to say, in his plate brimming with broth, suddenly took off his coat. This unaccustomed action drew the attention of the master. " What are you doing, sir?" he asked angrily. " Why do you take off your coat 2" "To seek my beans by swimming," re plied Richen:iont insolently. The master was displeased; but, at the same instant, Grignotte ran up his legs and far from falling into a passion he smiled. Grignotte, encouraged by her success, recorcmenced her promenades, and the master ended by laughing heartily with his pupils. His wife, who was very kind, profited by his good humor to ask pardon for the poor scholars. " Will you punish the children because they have laughed ?" asked she, " when you, your self, who are a grave man, a father of a family, cannot keep sober? That would not be just." The master allowed himself to be per suaded, and forgiveness was granted. Then there was a frenzy of delight. All exclaimed at once, " Long live our good master ! Long live Grignotte ! Long live the fairy Grignotte! Grignotte the pretty! Grignotte the immorta Gaignotte the adorable ! Grignotte the beautiful ! Grig notte the charming! Grignotte the lova ble ! And all the Grignottes imaginable And since that time Grignotte has be come the friend of little children. T HE LANCASTER INTELLIGENO ' JOB PRINTING BBTABLIBEIDANT, No. 8 NORTH DUKE STREET, LANCASTER, PA. The lobbing Department is thoroughly furnished with new and elegant type of every description, and is under the charge of a practical and experienced Job Printerr The Proprietors are prepared to PRINT CHECKS, NOTES, LEGAL BLANKS, • CARDS AND CIRCULARS, BILL READS AND HANDBILLS, PBOOB.AM3INS AND POLITIND3, PAPER BOOKS AND PAMPHLETS, BALL TICKETS AND INVITATIONS,' PRINTING IN COLORS AND PLAIN PII/NEWA, • with neatness, accuracy and dispatch, on the most reasons', hie terms, and in a manner not excelled by any eatablish meat In the city. Siir . Orders from a distance. by mail or , otherwise' promptly attended to. Address GEO. SANDERSON& BON, - - Mmuteir No. 8 North Duke . Stre lnte et, Laneecterank:lB-' . DEL AWARZ INIITII/L.T. SAPPKVir MANOR COMPANY. •., CAPITAL OVER ONE MCLLION OP DOLLARS. ' - Make insurance aphrat Lou ar Daraagaky WA" Rat2* inga, MerekmaNie, Paraltura, Pe. ALL LOESER PROMPTLY =MED AN PAUL , 2SM , ' No. :14 North QueskateaaC, "29 Vtai2l Laneaataichi." NO. 17.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers