'SU gauratir gligalligturtr, PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY BY H. O. SMITH da CO H. G. SMITH TERMS—Tvro Dollars per annum, payable all cases in advance. ornes--sourausr CORNER OF CENTRE SQUARE. wr All letters on business should be ad dressed to H. G. Shinn dc Co. Zittrarm. What Tom Maxwell Did " Who was that young fellow who seemed to be rather epris with your rec tor's pretty daughter?" said I to my friend Marcus Jermyn, as I tore off my white tie, flung my dress-boots into a corner, and prepared to settle myself down comfortably to a pipe and a chat in his cosey smoking-room, after a din ner party which he had given to some of the village magnates. " What! Tom Maxwell, d' you mean? —the youngster who sat opposite to you ?" " Yes," said I; there was something about his appearance I rather liked.— Who is he? " He's a deuced plucky fellow, I eau tell you," said Jermyn. " Why, did you never hear what Tom Maxwell did lust winter ?—it was in all the papers." "Not I," said I. " I was in New York, you know, and missed a good deal of English news." "Well, look here, old fellow; just get into that shooting-jacket, and brew yourself what you like, and I'll tell you the story. You know, iu old times I was rather fond of a yarn." Jermyn and I had been at Oxford to gether some ten or twelve years before, and had kept up the friendship which we formed there. Since I had last seen . him he had succeeded to his father's property at Coxton, a pretty village on the east coast, and had settled down, very comfortably, to the ordinary rou tine of a country gentleman's life. I had been roaming all over the world, partly ou business and partly on pleas ure. and having a few weeks before re turned from a lengthened tour in the United States, I had run against Jer myn in the Strand, arid he had then made me promise to spend a few days with him at Christmas. Consequently, I found myself at the end of Christmas week, In his comfortable country-house; and what with two or three dinner par ties, a carpet-dance, and a servants' ball, had rather ti jolly time of it. I was to leave the next day for London, and Jer myn had given a dinner party iu my honor, to some of his most intimate neighbors. They having departed, Mrs. Jermyn had given Marcus leave of ab sence at my particular request, and we determined to pass a pleasant hour or two in talking over old times, and com paring notes as to how the world had treated us both since we were a couple of thoughtless undergraduates. "What will you drink, Fred ?" said Jermyn. "Brandy? Try the whiskey. It's a rather a special good thing—a present from old Mcßride, whom you'll remember. However, just as you like, only fill up and begin. Well," con tinued he, "you'd like to hear what Tom Maxwell did ; but first you ought to know something about him. He's a pupil of old Sawyer, the vicar of Middleham, a village about a mile from here. Sawyer, who has a good ileal in that ancient brain of his, but very little in his pocket, adds to the hundred and fifty per annum, which lie draws from Middleham tithe-payers, by taking a pupil or two ; and -a confounded nuisance they have been on one or two occasions, I can tell you. Talk of poachers, why that young scamp, Edwin Milborough, a son of Lord Milborough, played the dickens with my pheasants a couple of years ago, and finished off bf shooting at my keeper. Luckily, it was a long shot, add it did n 't hurt him, but Sawyer had the good sense to see that sort of thing would n't do, and so the Honora ble Edwin was sent home, much to the delight of the neighborhood. Since then the pupils have been pretty fair, and .1 think young Maxwell is one of the best. He came to Sawyer about .eighteen months since, and, as he is a very quiet, readingyoungster, and never gets into mischief, he's rather a favorite among the matrons of the neighborhood, and also, since the event I am going to eell you of, among the girls. I should mention that there is no society what .ever in Middleham, so that Coxton sees as much as it does of Sawyer's pupils, and in fact they are tame about the place, and have the run of all the houses. At the time Maxwell came to Sawyer, he had but one other pupil, a tall young fellow called Denton, most abominably conceited, and no favorite with us. I don't know what Denton did, except dawdle about and gossip, for he had as genuine a liking for scandal as any old woman in the place. Somehow or other he gave us all a general impres sion that the new pupil, Maxwell, was a regular milksop, fresh from his mother's apron-string, and up to none of the ordinary pursuits of other youths. Seeing the samples we had already had, this was good news for us elders, but of 'course such a character did him no gqod among the young ladies, and they need to pity one another when Maxwell fell to their lot at a dinner party or dance. He certainly had very little to say for himself, and was uncommonly shy, and was therefore a great contrast to Denton, who would have thought nothing of strolling up toiler Majesty at a lever, and advising her to let Bucking ham Palace. In this way it got to be considered that Maxwell was a muff'; and as he did nothing particular to re move this impression, it clung to him untill the incident took place of which am going to tell you. " But your pipe's out, my dear fellow; try one of my cigars,—they are fairish, I believe. " Well, things went on very quietly until last January. Denton had taken to patronizing Maxwell before people, and often hinted that, but for him, that unfortunate youth would be always getting into scrapes, and he took much credit to himself for taking the trouble to look after so young and inexperi cnced a lad. It was ou the 20th of January, that these two young fellow had been dining with us, and it being a fearful night, we had persuaded them both to stay all night, a thing they were often in the habit of doing, and which, we knew well, would give old Sawyer no anxiety. The wind had been blowing pretty stiff all <lay from the north, and towards eve ning it had veered round to the east, and came on to blow a regular gale. We had, some of us, been down to the beach in the afternoon, and the fisherman had assured us that it was going to be a very dirty night. The sea was already white with foam, and was dashing and hissing angrily against the cliffs, and every.now and then a fierce little shower of rain passed quickly by, bound in land, at racing speed. As we walked home the sun set, and the night came on very quickly, and the rain then be eame incessant and poured in torrents. The sound of the wind and rain, and thedistant roaring of the sea, made us un commonly glad to get under a good roof, where we knew we should find warmth and comfort. During dinner, in the intervals of talk, we could hear the rain rain beat against the windows with such a force that I really thought they would be driven in, and many a time, I can tell you, did one or the other of us say, 'What will the poor fellows at sea do to-night?' and look grave, as we thought of the too likely possibility of some unfortunate vessel being ow the coast. We all went to bed in very good time, that night, and were uncommonly glad to listen to the storm, through the medium of two or three thicknesses of stout blankets. I had been asleep for about two hours when Mary awoke me and said she had heard the front door bell ring. I guessed at once what it was. I had given directions to the fishermen to send up to the Hall, whenever there was a ship on shore, and I felt certain that this was a message of that import. Accord ingly, I slipped on my dressing-gown and went down to the door, and without opening it, asked who was there? "Tom Purvis," was the answer. " What is it, Tom?" I said. "There's a ship on the Black Steel, sir." " God help them, then,' was my first ejaculation. ' I'll be down directly, Tom,' I said, and went up stairs to dress. Before doing so, however, I thought that these two lads might pos sibly like the excitement of the scene ; and so I went into the double•bedded room where they were sleeping. Upon A. J. STEINMAN VOLUME 68 hearing my errand, Denton said that he had a cold, and that he had seen wrecks before, and thathe thought hewouldn't come ; but young Maxwell immediately began to dress, saying, that he didn't think he could sleep comfortably, know ing that probably some unfortunate sailors were perishing so near to us. " ' Will they be able to do anything for them, do you think?' he asked me. "' I fear not,' said I. ' The life-boat won't have a chance in such a sea as there must be, and I fear she may have struck too far off to be reached by a rocket. But be quick with your things, and we'll go down and see.' " In five minutes we were both down at the hall door, well wrapped up in pilot coats and mufflers; and good need we had of them, I can tell you, for the moment we opened the door the wind and rain rushed in with such force as to nearly blind us, and it required all our united strength to shut it again. Haviig at last, however, done so, we turned round, and faced the tempest. It was, in truth, a fearful night, and we could scarcely make any way against the wind, which blew certainly far stronger than I had ever known it do before linked our arms together and managed at last to get down to the beach. The night was so dark that we could see nothing fro'u the fishermen's cottages. " ' Where is she ?' said I to an old man who stood at one of the doors. " ' She's on the south of the Steel, sir,' said he. They're trying to reach her with a rocket from the jetty-end.' " This jetty was formed on wooden piles, and ran a short way out to sea. It was only used by the fishing-boats in certain states of the tide, to land their cargoes, and was a black, slimy, tumble down affair at best. As we were mak ing our way down the cliff, a matter of no little difficulty, we saw a stream of fire shoot in a curved ',direction, and knew that they had fired a rocket. Getting ou to the beach, we made the best of our way through the fishing boats, anchors, buoys, &c., and at last got on to the small, frail jetty, which seemed to stir and tremble with the force of the gigantic waves, which threw themselves furiously against it. Hur rying to the end, we found a tolerably large group of fishermen surrounding the two coastguardsmen who had charge of the rocket apparatus. "Do you make anything of her, Har vey?" said Ito one of the coastguard, who lived in the village, and who was a great ally of mine in fishing and boat ing expeditions. "Well, sir," said he, "I think she'll be a hig French lugger that was knock ing about, off and on, this afternoon. I said when I seed her I wouldn't give much chance for her getting into har bor. It's so fearful dark, sir, that we can scarcely make her out a bit; but fancy I picked out three masts, such as them great ugly French colliers have. We've missed her twice with the rockets, they both fell to leeward of her, but we'll allow enough for this one, sir." " As he spoke, they got ready to fire another rocket, and this time, as far as they could guess, it went right over the unfortunate vessel. We bad now begun to get our eyes accustomed to the dark ness, and fancied that we could make out a black, shapeless mass, about fifty or eighty yards before us. We could hear the cries of the poor fellows on board clearly enough, and the crushing grinding sound of the vessel on the rocks; and by the latter sound we knew that, unless something was quickly done, they would all perish. " Just then, to the great delight of us all, some one ou board fixed a lantern in the rigging, and by its light we could see that the coastguard had been right in their conjectures, and that it was one of those large unwieldy tuggers which trade between our northern coal-ports and France. We could also see that there was a group of people clustered amidships, who were evidently engaged in some operation, and directly after wards the tightening of the rocket line showed us that it was being hauled in from the ship. A stronger line having been attached to it, a board, with clear directions in French, as to the manage ment of the apparatus, was sent off, and then the cradle slid away on its errand of mercy. All this time the wind had continued to blow so hard that we had great difficulty in keeping our feet, ad ded to which every now and then a wave broke over the jetty and deluyed us with water. We were, however, too much interested in the fate of tue French crew to think much of our per sonal inconveniences. At last, after what seemed to us an immense time, we could just make out that a man was getting carefully over the side of the ship and pulling the rope, be came to wards us into the darkness, and in a few minutes we were able to haul up upon the jetty a miserable half-drown ed Frenchman, who very soon had the neck of a bottle of better cognac than he had ever before tasted thrust into his mouth. " Off went the cradle again, and back it returned with the same result, until we soon had quite a little French colony, shivering end shaking on the jetty be sine us. There only remained now the captain to be brought off; and, to our very great consternation, we made out from one of the crew, that he had an nounced his determination to stick by his ship, and wait until morning, when, he imagined, the sea would go down. His reason for this was an idea he had got into his foolish head, that upon his leaving his deck he lost all claim to his vessel, which at once became the prop erty of perfidious Albion, and as this unsightly old lugger was his sole means of subsistence he determined not to give her up. It was a marvel to all the experienced sailors on the jetty that sheshould have held together so long as she had done, and she was expected to break up every minute. What was to be done then for this foolish old Frenchman? Was he tcy be allowed to perish with her, or could anything be done to compel him to save his life? "We did not know what to do, and began to think that he must be left to his fate, when one of the fishermen was heard to say to another,— " 'lf some fellow, now, had the pluck to go off' and fetch him! If it wasn't for the wife and bairns, I'd go.' "'And what would be the good of that,' said another, 'when you can't jabber a word of his confounded lingo?' " There was a pause, and then, to my consternation, I heard a quiet voice at my elbow say,— "That'll be the only plan. I under stand French, and will go off to him and explain the matter.' " You, Maxwell?' I said. 'Stuff and nonsense, my dear fellow! I won't allow it for a moment!' " Excuse me, Mr. Jermyn, but I intend to go. The last time they prac tised down here I went off for fun, and there's really no more danger now. It's only the darkness and the rain and noise that make it appear a rather per ilous undertaking.' " No, I'll be hanged if you shall go !' said I. `Good gracious me! are you to risk your life because a confounded, thick-headed old French skipper chooses to be an obstinate old mule? Besides, you shan't do it, Maxwell, I tell you.' " His only reply was the taking off his watch, which he quietly handed to me. " The wet will injure it,' said he. "'Now, Maxwell, do be reasonable,' said I. ' For goodness' sake don't do this foolish thing. It's all very well being Quixotic, and all that sort of thing, but there's a limit to that, and this is beyond it. Come, let's go home ; we can do no good here.' "But I had mistaken my man and my power over him. He took me aside and spoke so seriously and sensibly, that I had no argument with which to confute his, and at last was compelled to give in, protesting all the while against it. " I give you my word, Fred, that I was never so miserable in m3a ife before. 4r Here was a boy who was not actually, in my charge.going into tually, if the most fearful danger, d I was powerless to stop him. If \anything happened to this boy what was I to say to his parents, and what would they say to me? " However, the thing was evidently . . . . , . . .. ... - .. _ . le j, - • 1 , .1 7. . ,_ ~. ..., _ ' . ikpr .;. ,_ ~:, . 11 41. . 7: rf f 1 4 i ~.. ...., , , • . .. . .021.1 , • ... • • ' 1 ... ; - 1 . ~ . - .... . . . lIIIIIIIV . . ..." " . V . , ": • , . . • unvoidable, and I bestirred myself to see that all that was possible to secure his safety should be done. By this time it became known among the men on the pier that the lad had volunteered for the duty, which, on doubt, any one of them woad have done, but for their ignorance of French. Some of them were very much against it, and at one time there seemed a chance of it being prevented ; but Maxwell said a few words to them and they gave him a cheer, and set about getting him into the cradle. This was soon done, and with another ringing British cheer, the young fellow went off on his perilous expedition. "We could just make out that he had reached the vessel, and then a very long time went by without any sign whatever. The . excitment in all our minds, and in mine especially, was painful in the extreme. The coast guardsmen, old experienced men-of war's men, and the fishermen, were all in a state of wonder that the vessel had held together so long, and we expected that every minute would be her last. At length, after what seemed at least an hour, but which, I fancy, could have really only been about ten minutes, we saw a man get over the side of the ves sel, and soon the ugly cause of all our anxiety—a fat, pudgy, elderly French man—was hauled on to the jetty ; and if he did get a little rough handled and shaken in getting him clear of the ropes, why I don't think he was much to be pitied. I need not say that the cradle was sent off again as quickly as possible, and we saw, to our great de light, that young Maxwell was getting into it. We began to haul with a will, but all of a sudden the vessel seemed to collapse and go completely to pieces. A great cry arose from all on the jetty, when, to our infinite delight, we heard Maxwell's voice close to us. He had just reached the jetty, when the rope gave way, from the vessel breaking up ; but he clung tightly to it, and in a moment he was pulled up among us, and was al. most devoured by the delighted fisher men, who crowded round him to shake hands and ply him with brandy. "It was undoubtedly one of the nar rowest escapes that was ever heard of. If he had been a couple of feet further off when the rope gave way, nothing could have saved him, for the waves would have dashed him against the jetty and killed him, but he fell just clear of the sea, and we had him up before one of the large waves could come. " I need not say that Master Maxwell was the hero of the neighborhood for some time to come. But, bless you! in stead of giving himself airs about it, as Denton would have done, and putting himself iu the way of being compli mented, nothing seemed to worry him more than hearing it talked about; and I have often known that the story was being told, although I could not hear it, from the way Maxwell used to fidget about, and his unhappy expression of countenance. He's nearly as shy as ever, although he's been considerably petted by all the girls about ever since." "He should have that new decora tion,—the Albert Cross, I think it's called," said 1. " Ah! I wish it had been instituted then," said Jermyn ; "no one could have better deserved it. We got him the Humane Society's medal, but I don't know what he has done with it. No one has ever seen it since he received it. And now," said Jermyn, yawning, " I must be off; I'm not used to this sort of thing now, and feel rather de moralized already from the society of such a rolling stone as you are, old fel low. Good night!" I left Coxton the next day, but thought the story of " What Tom Maxwell did" worth record, so here it is. A Yankee Peddler There is a Sheriff residing in Illinois who was "taken in and done for" on one occasion. He made it a prominent part of his business to ferret out and punish peddlers for traveling through the State without a license ; but one morning he met his match in the per son of a genuine Yankee peddler. " What have you got to sell—any thing ?" asked the Sheriff. "Yaws, sartin ; what d'ye want? Got razors, fust, that's an article you need, squire, I should say, by the looks of your baird. Got good blackin ; 'twill make them old boots of yourn shine so't vou eau shave in 'em e'nomost. Balm of Clumby, too, only a dollar a bottle ; good for the her and assisten poor hu man natur, as the poet says." And so he rattled on. At length the Sheriff bought a bottle of the balm of Columbia, and in reply to the question whether he wanted anythii3Velse, that functionary said he did—he wanted to see the Yankee's license for peddling in Illinois, that being his duty as Sheriff. The Yank showed him a document fixed up good and strong, in black - and white. The Sheriff looked at it and pronounced it all right. Then handing back the bottle to the peddler, he said : " I don't think, now that I'vebought this stuff, I shall ever want it. I reckon I might as well sell it back to you. What will you give for it ?" " 0, the darn stuffis no use to me, but seein' it's you, Sheriff, I'll give you twenty-five cents for it, if you really don't want it." The Sheriff handed over the bottle at the large discount from his own pur chase and received his change. " Now," said the peddler, " l've got a question to ask you. Have you got any peddler's license about your trowsers anywhere ?" " No ; I hav'nt any use for the article, myself." replied the Sheriff. Hain't, eh ? Wad, I guess we'll see about that pooty darn soon. Ef I under stand the law, it's a clear case that you've been tradin' with me—hawkin' and peddlin' balm of Columby on the highway—l'll inform on you—darned if I don't now!" The Yankee was as good as his word. When he reached the next village he made his complaint, and the Sheriff was fined eight dollars for selling With out a license- He was heard afterwards to say that ‘ , 'you might a's well try to hold a greased eel as a live Yankee." Power of Humbug. Au individual owned a small tavern near the field of,,Waterloo, the of the last great action of Napoleon, and was frequently questioned as to whether he did not possess any relics of the bat tle, and he as invariably and honestly answered in ttie negative. He was very poor, and one day, he was lamenting to a neighbor not only his poverty but the annoyance to which travellerssubjected him when his friend cut him short with: "Well, make one help the other— make some relics!" • "But what can I do?" inquired the poor man. " Tell them that Napoleon or Well ington entered your shop during the battle a d sat down on that chair." Not l ng after an English tourist en tered t e tavern, and enquiring for rel ics wa told the chair story. The next custorr was told that Wellington had take a drink and the Wellington tum bler was sold. The third gazed with breathless wonder on the nail on which Bonaparte hung his hat. The fourth purchased the door posts between which he entered, and the fifth became the happy possessor of the floor upon which Napoleon had trodden. At last advices, the fortunate tavern keeper had not a roof to cover his head, upontdi e n e g plv o pnhi which hf b o a tr g hme o e f hd gold obuyse s i se n tllo i t on h dg e . theeaen centre t e rwe ar aSo th f s iat Mrs. Yell lately cowhided a Mr. Lay for not performing a promise to marry her. As he wouldn't make her Lay, she made him yell. Prentice says 'tis a pity that the elec tions in the South cannot take place at this time, for although the negroes there are strong now, they will be stronger in the dog days. A lady asked a gentleman the other day why so many tall gentlemen were bachelors. The reply was that they were obliged to lie crosswise in bed to keep their feet in, and that a wife would be in the way. LAN 4 S 111 ' VA id I; Wit i 1 G JULY 31 1867. Lost In the Woods. A LEGEND OF VERMONT About ninety years ago the events of my story commenced. It was in Ver mont, within thelimits of the township of Rockingham or Springfield, it is im possible to say which, that the log cabin which was the home of the heroine stood, surrounded by a forest. The real names of theactorsin this tragedy of the woods have passed out of the le gend, and I, therefore, substitute names which come to my mind. "I have tinishea my spinning, Robert, and I shall carry the yarn home to-day. I think I will spend the day with Mrs. Green, and wish you would come and meet me and bring the baby home," said the young wife, taking the linen yarn in her apron and the baby on her arm. " Very well," replied the husband, giving his crowing child a kiss, as he started off with his hoe over his shoul der for his wheat field. His lot had been burned over and sown with wheat, but the huge stumps of the old trees, and the thick underground roots in the new land, prevented the use of the plow. All day he worked busily in the fresh soil, with the strange wood sound about him, eating his lunch at noon from the little basket, until the lengthened shadows of the forest around his clear ing betokened sunset. Then he started off to meet his wife. A mile or two in the forest his neighbor Green had made his clearing. He went ou, without meeting his wife and baby, until he got to his neighbor's door. " Why," said Mrs. Green, in answer to his enquiries, " didn't you meet her? She hasn't been gone long—only a few minutes." • "Can she possibly have missed the marked trees Y' asked Robert Harris, aghast. Do not be alarmed, neighbor Harrig," said Mr. Green, " I will go along back with you." The two men went together through the forest, which every moment grew darker and drearier. They called Mrs. Harris' name aloud at intervals, but there came no reply. They kept saying to each other, "We may find her at home," but tey were heavy at heart. The log house was reached, but the mother and baby were not there. The cow lowed to be milked, and the pigs, who ran in the woods all day and came home at night, clamored for their usual feeding, but the men took no notice of them. Back again through the woods, with a lantern, calling and hallooing. Then they went to the next clearing, and the next. "A woman lost!" What telegram in the exciting days of battle ever fell more thrillingly on human ears than those words, going from mouth to mouth among the home-nests of a new country ? With iron muscles and determined wills the warm-hearted settlers started out. "We will scour the woods ; we will find her, never fear!" According to a custom they had at such times, they blew dinner horns, built fires, and shouted until they were hoarse. No tidings of the lost ones on that night. All the next day they searched, and day after day as long as possible. Fires were left smouldering among the trees, men who knew the woods kept reso lutely to the search, but the budding April forest had its own secrets. When Mrs. Harris started, with her baby in her arms, ffom Mrs. Green's, expecting momentarily to meet her husband, she went on carelessly, her attention being directed in part to the child, when, suddenly looking up, she discovered no white scar of the axe on any tree in sight. But she fancied she had only stepped out of the track, and might in a moment regain it. A vain fancy! She went on, but nothing fa miliar met her eye. The night came on. The song birds went to rest, and the owls commenced their doleful hooting. She was alone with her infant in a great sea of forest, where never woodman's axe had echoed. She was lost. She sat down faint and tired, and, womanlike, began to cry. Hark! That was a human shout! She arose and holding her course, ran breath lessly toward it. And now she thought she heard it again, farther off. Many hours of the night were spent in run ning, with hysterical sobs and palpita ting heart, towards the voices of her !lends, so near that she could hear them, but so far away that no effort of frenzied strength could enable her to reach their protecting presence.— Towards morning she slept, leaning against a tree, with the baby on her bosom. But shestarteffnervously in her dreams, and at the first bird songawoke to full consciousness. With daybreak came a renewal of her courage. She would not weakly give up to die. Her friends would find them. She saw near her some last year's berries, and tough leaves of wintergreen, and a few acorns. A:poor breakfast, but she eat whatever she could find, for the sake of her child more than her own. This day also she ran wildly through the tangle of dead brakes and briers, growing from the de cay of centuries rover the gullies and jagged rocks, past rude branches that caught at and rent her dress, till she came to the dying embers of a fire. Here she lingered long. Her friends had been here ; perhaps Robert had kindled this fire with his own hands, and for her. Hark, again! the search has commenced this morning. Echoing through the woods comes the prolonged shriek of the dinner horn. She calls with all the desperation of one drown ing ; she rushes forward, bat the ground is rough, and, alas ! how heavy the baby grows! She is giddy from the loss of sleep and the want of food. The baby moans and will not be comforted. In this way she passed the day and.another dreadful night. She finds another fire ; she stays by it and keeps it burning through the night, for she is afraid of wolves. Another morning and she is almost hopeless. 0, will not heaven pi ty.her? The little one grows weaker; he cannot hold up his head. Another terrible night; baby moans piteously ; he falls into convulsions ; the next day he dies. All day she carries the lifeless body in her arms, and all night, beneath the unpitying stars, she holds it to her bosom. She carried the little dead burden day after day, until the purple hue of decay was setting rapidly over it, and she felt, with a pang at her heart, that she must bury it. Then she looked about for a spot where she might dig the tiny grave, so deep that the wildcat and wolf would not scent it out. Weak as she was, this was no easy task, but in her wander ings she came upon a giant tree, uptorn at some former time by a hurricane. In the soft earth where the roots had lain she scooped out the baby's resting place, and, making it soft with moss, covered the cold little form forever from her sight. Then she sat down by the grave in a stupor of grief. Hour after hour passed ; how to commence the dreadful pilgrimage? Then she noted every thing about the spot. Here was a rock, there stood an immense hemlock. Yes, she would know the place. She could find it easily with Robert. Then began again the struggle through the wilderness. Day after day, week after week, she passed on. Her shoes were worn to fragments and fell from her feet. Her garments were torn to tatters. But the days grew warmer, and the fever that was burning in her veins made even the soft showers that fell upon her welcome. First she ate the buds of trees and the bark of the birch. Presently she began to find the young checkerberry leaves, and now and then she came upon a partridge's nest, and greedily sucked the eggs. After a time there were red raspberries and black thimble berries in the woods, and then she knew it was July. The trees had now put on afresh their beautiful garments. But for the delici ous poetry one finds in the woods, saun tering out from the busy world for an hour, she cared nothing. She saw nothing but trees, trees, trees, in inter minable succession. It seemed years, yes, ages ago that she swept the hearth with a birch broom, and sung the baby to Bleep in Robert's cabin. Her mihd grew bewildered, still she went on, on, on. When she came to a large stream she went up towards its eoureeuntilehe could wade across it. So she said ; and she affirmed that she never crossed a stream wider than a brook. . She paid no attention tosun and moon as a guide, or indication of the points of the com pass, but she must have taken a north westerly direction. There were Black river, Mill fiver, Waterqueechy, and White Wait's Well, flowing into the Connecticut river from the Vermont side; but she constantly asserted that she saw none of them. Through July and August there were berries of vari ous kinds, and by means of these she sustained what little life was left. And now the maple began to take on its gor geous crimson, and the silver birches to wear their pale gold of September; the birds were leaving the forest; occasion ally she had glimpses of a black bear, turned out of the path afraid of the hu man form ; but nohuwan being did she meet. And long before human voices had ceased to call her name. Was she alone on earth, and was the earth one vast wilderness without out let, without a clearing or a settlement? Had God taken all life but that of brutes, and forgotten her, or ordained her to wander forever? Tramping, tramping, with her feet bleeding and cracked at first ; and after calloused ; naked, or nearly so; knowing nothing of time or place, she was fast becoming idiotic; when she was hungry she sought for food, but the great idea lingering in her mind was that of pressing on. Since the luxuriance of summer had filled the forest with ferns and a new growth of brier and underbrush, there was more trouble of passing through. But she had become quite accustomed to the rough work, and the frenzy at last be came a steady, constant habit, almost the labor of life to her, One day in October the inhabitants of the village of Charleston, N. H., were startled into the wildest excitement by seeing a nearly naked, emaciated woman, with her hair streaming upon her shoulder, walk with bewildered gaze along their streets. She told them she was Robert Harris' wife, and that she was lost. "Robert Harris' wife, who disappear ed from the opposite side of the river in April !" exclaimed the villagers. "How had she crossed the Connecticut? where had she been all this time ?" But she told them she had never crossed the Connecticut, and that she had been lost in the woods all this time. There was no lack of hospitality ; the wanderer was immediately clad and fed and cared for to the utmost. Volun • teers went at once and brought her hus band, for the story of his bereavement was well known on the Charleston side of the river. We can only imagine the meeting, and the tears that were shed at the thought of the little, forsaken grepve by the uprooted tree. Ptit it is said that joy bells were rung in the village, and the poor woman, a living skeleton, was nursed and petted—everybody vieing with her neighbor to lavish every good thing upon her—until her weakened mind received its tone again. As she constantly asserted she had never crossed the river, it is supposed she wandered into Canada, and going round the Connecticut at its source, or crossing where it was a brooklet, passed down on the New Hampshire side, until she reached a location just oppo site that from which she started. When she began to grow strong again her mind recurred constantly to the grave in the wilderness. She de• scribed to her husband its surround ings, and he went and searched for it, but without success. As soon as she was able, she went out with her hus band and other friends, to search, but the baby's grave was never found. It was thought very strange that she, in all her wanderings, never met a roving Indian but so it was. The In dian tribes had perhaps nearly disap peared from New England since the French and Indian war; but however that may be, the first huMan being she saw, after the burial of her infant, was in Charleston. This singular legend has descended to the writer from a descendant of hers. who was the third child born in the town of Rockingham, Vt., and the story is an undoubted fact. The Age of the World and Man. How old is the world? The general answer of Christendom has been, " not quite four thousand years from the Cre ation to the birth of Christ, and there have been 1,865 years since, making in all 5,870." 4nd yet we have all seen within a week or two that Professor Marsh, of Yale College, in describing the fossil bones of a mastodon, but re cently found at Cohoes, New York, gives the opinion that the animal must have existed over ten thousand years ago—or more than four thousand years before the time when as the Scriptural commentators have usually supposed, Adam gave names to all the newly made creatures. Nobody appears to be shocked by this statement; and in fact there is scarcely a scientific man, in cluding some of the most devout be- lievers of the age, who does not ascribe to the world a much greater antiquity than that claimed in the old-fashioned chronology. The evidences leading to this conclu sion are drawn from nearly every de partment of natural science, and, of course, become irresistibly strong as they are brought together. To give an idea of them in a brief compass, intelli• gible to every mind, perhaps we cannot do better than to condense. Agassiz's estimates based upon the formation of the coral reefs off the southern coast of Florida. These reefs are built up by an insect that begins to work on the ground in water of twelve or fifteen fathoms deep and he cannot live unless he has the constant action of the open sea upon him, so that he stops at the height of high tide. By numerous experiments it has been ascertained that the coral builder constructs about half an inch in a cen tury ; but in order to err, if at all, on the safe side, Agassiz doubles his estimate in his calculation, making it an inch in a century. Now outside the Florida Keys there is a long coral reef with an average height of seventy feet, which, therefore, must have been begun 7,000 years ago, or 1,000 years before the creation of Adam. Secondly, the Keys themselves are nothing but inner repe titions of the same sort of coral reefs, of at least the same average height; and the builders must have finished them before they began on theoutside reef, as appears from their necessity of having the open sea, and from the fact that there are now no indications of the be ginning of a reef outside of the one we have mentioned above. The Keys, therefore, swell the record to 14,000 years. Next we have the shore bluff of the main land, which carries the coral construction, and which carries the earth's record above 20,000 . years. More over, there are, as you go inland seven well defined and successive coral reefs, which, added to the foregoing ~would make the world seventy-five 'Wousand years old. And Professor Agassiz re gards this as a very moderate estimate. When this astounding conclusion first gained acceptance in scientific circles, the most frequent method of reconcilivg them with the Scriptural record was to suggest the lapse of along period between the creation of the The puss wuz won amid vociferous exclamations, by a red colt, amid the wavin ov handkerchiefs, with a stripe on his face, and the fainting of several fuss class females, and one white foot be hind. The Superintendent of a Sunday School in Hartford, Connecticut, re cently made his Annual Report, in which he recommended that the adult members should go to work and do all in their power to increase the infant class in His school during the coming year. A correspondent tells the following story of one of the farmers in the vicin ity of Culpeper, whose possessions lay in a district where both armies foraged. The old chap one day, while surveying ruefully the streaks in the soil where his fence once stood, remarked with much feeling, "I hain't took no sides in this here rebellion, but I'll be dog goned if both aides hain't took me." Piorelbutsuo. A Memento of the Revolution. A limanscript of Thos.. Jefferson Never Before IPublished-131s Reminiscences of Patrick Henry. [From the Age.l The following curious paper is copied verbatim from a manuscript of Mr. Jef ferson, which a correspondent in the interior of the State has put into our hands, with the privilege of retaining it fora few days, that any of our readers who may desire to see the handwriting of the author of the Declaration of In dependence may be gratified with a sight of the paper Itself. The well known chirographyßof Mr. Jefferson made familiar to the world by the nu merous fac similes of the first draft of the Declaration, taken in connection with the internal evidence which this manuscript bears of having come from his hand, renders any argument about its genuineness superfluous. 4 His recol lections of Mr. Henry, and the view which he presents of his character, al though somewhat startling and at va riance with the cherished and tradi tionary reputation of the great orator, are far too valuable to be suppressed, and form a contribution to history which it is strange has been so long withheld. They will be read, especially those por etions derogatory to Mr. Henry as a man of personal integrity, with some caution. There are statements in this paper, the accuracy of which we very much ques tion, and in relation to which we shall, in a day or two, take an opportunity of stating our views. The paper, however, whether as evidence trustworthy or not, is a great curiosity. My acquaintance with Mr. Henry commenced in the winter of 1759-60. On my way to the College I passed the Xmas holidays at Col. Dandridge's, in Hanover, to whom Mr. Henry was a near neighbor. During the festivity of the season I met him in society every day, and we became well acquainted, although I was much his junior, being then but in my 17th year and he a married man. The spring following he came to W'msb'g to obtain a license as a lawyer, and he called on me at College. He told me he had been reading law only 6 weeks. Two of ate examiners, however, Peyton and John Randolph, men of great facility of temper, signed his license with as much reluctance as their dispositions would permit them to show. Mr. Wythe absolutely refused. Rob. C. Nicholas refused also at first, but on repeated importunities and pro mises of future reading, he signed. These facts.l had afterwards from the gentlemen - themselves, the two Ran dolpbs acknowledging he was very ig norant of law, but that they perceived him to be a young mau of genius and did not doubt he would soon qualify himself. He was some time after elected a rep resentative of the County of Hanover, and brought himself into public notice on the following occasion, which, I think, took place in 1762, or a year soon er or later. The gentlemen of this country had, at that time, become deep ly involved in that state of indebted ness which bas since ended in so:general a crush of their fortunes. the Speaker was also Treasurer,an:officer alwayschosen by the Assembly. He was an excellent man, liberal, friendly and rich. He had been drawn in to lend on his own act great sums of money to per sons of this description, and especially those who were of the Assembly. He used freely for this purpose the public money, confiding for its replacement in his own means and the securities he had taken on those loans. About this time, however, he became sensible that his deficit to the public was become so enormous ar that a discovery must soon take place, for as yet the pub lic had no suspicion of it. He devised, therefore, with his friends in the Assembly a plan for a pub lic loan office to a certain amount from which monies might be lent on public count, and on good landed se curity, to individuals. This was ac cordingly brought forward in the House of Burgesses, and, had it succeeded, the debts due to Robinson on these loans would have been transferred to the pub lic, and his deficit thus completely covered. This state of things, how ever, was not yet known; but Mr. Henry attacked the scheme on other genera,' grounds in that style of bold, grand and overwhelming eloquence for which he became so justly celebrated afterwards. He carried with him all the members of the upper counties, and left a minority, composed mainly of the aristocracy of the country. From this time his popularity sWCIled apace, and, —dying about 4 yeare alter, his deficit was brought to light, and discovered the true object of the proposition. The next great occasion on which he signalized himself was that which may be considered as the dawn of the Revo lution in March, 1774. The British Parliament had passed resolutions pre paratory to the levying a revenue on the colonies by a ' , tamp tax. The Vir ginia Assembly, at their next session, prepared and sent to England very elaborate representations, addressed, in separate forms, to the King, Lords and Commons, against the right to impose such taxes. The famous Stamp Act was, however, passed in Jan., 176,5, and in the session of the Virginia Assembly of May following Mr. Henry introduced the celebrated resolutions of that date. These were drawn by George Johnston: a lawyer of the Northern Neck, a very able, logical and correct speaker. Mr. Henry moved and Johnston seconded these resolutions successively. They were opposed by Randolph, Pendleton, Nicholas, Wythe and all the old mem bers whose influence in the House had till then been unbroken. They did it, not from any question of our rights, but on the ground that the same sentiments had been, at their preceding session, ex pressed in a more conciliatory form, to which the answers were not yet received. But torrents of sublime eloquenc from Mr. Henry, backed by the solid reasoning of Johnston, prevailed. The last, however, and strongest resolution wascarried butby asinglevote. The de bate on it was most bloody. I was then but a student and was listening at the door of the lobby, (for as yet there was no gallery) when Peyton Randolph, after the vote, came out of the House and said, as he entered the lobby : "By God I would have given five hundred guineas for a single vote." For as this would have divided the House, the vote of the Speaker would have rejected the resolution. Mr. Henry left town that evening, and the next morning before the meeting of the House I saw Peter Randolph, then of the Council, but who had formerly been Clerk to the House, for an hour or two at the Clerk's table searching the old journals for a prece dent while he was clerk of a resolution of the House erased from the journals by a subsequent order of the House. Whether he found it or not I do not re member; but when the House met a motion was made and carried to erase that resolution ; and there being at that day but one printer and he entirely under the control of the Governor, I do not know that this resolution ever ap peared in print. I write this from memory, but the impression made on me at the time :was such as to fix the facts indelibly in my mind. I came into the Legislature as a bur gess for Albermarle in the winter of 1768.-9, on the access of Lord Botetourt to the government, and about nine years after Mr. Henry had entered on the stage of public life. The exact confor mity of our political opinions strength ened our friendship, and, indeed, the old leaders of the House being substan tially firm we had not after this any differences of opinion in the H. of B. on matters of form. We were dissolved by Lord Botetourt at our first session, but all were re-elected. There being no divisions among us, occasions became very rare for the display of Mr. H's elo quence. In ordinary business he was a very inefficient member. He could not draw a bill on the most simple subject which would bear legal Briticism, or even the ordinary criticism which looks to the correctness of style and idea; for, indeed, there was no accu racy of idea in his head. His imagine- NUMBER 30 tion was copious, poetical, sublime, but' vague also. He said the strongest things in the finest language, but with J I - out arrangement, desultorily. This appeared eminently and in a mortify ing degree in the Ist session of the Ist Congress, which met in Sept. 1774. Mr. Henry and Richard Henry Lee took at once the lead in that assembly, and, by the high style of their eloquence were, in the first days of the session, looked up to as priori inter pares. A , petition to the King, an address to the people of Great Britain, and a memorial to the people of British America were agreed to be drawn. Lee, Henry and others were appointed for the first, and Lee, Livingston and Jay for the two last. The splendor •of their debut occa sioned Mr. Henry to be designated by his committee to draw the petition to the King, with which they were charged, and Mr. Lee was charged with the address to the people of England. The last was first reported. On reading it every countenance fell and a dead silence ensued for many minutes. At length, it was laid on the table for perusal and consideration till the next day, when first one member, and then another, arose, and paying some faint compliments to the composition, ob served that there were still certain con siderations not expressed in it which should properly fine a place in it. At length Mr. Livingston, (the Governor of N. J.,) a member of the committee, rose and observed that a friend of his had been sketching what he had thought might be proper for such an address, from which he thought some paragraphs might be advantageously introduced in to the draught proposed ; and he read an address, which Mr. Jay had prepared de bene esse, as it were. There was but one sentiment of admiration. The address was recommitted for amendment, and Mr. Jay's draught reported and adopted with scarce any alteration. These facts were stated to me by Mr. Pendleton and Col. Harrison, of our own delegation, (except that Col. Har rison ascribed the draught to Gov. Liv ingston,)and were afterwards confirmed to me by Gov'r Livingston ; and I will presently mention an anecdote confir mation of them, from Mr. Jay and R. H. L. themselves. Mr. Henry's draught of a petition to the King was equally unsuccessful and was recommitted for amendment. Mr. John Dickinson was added to the com mittee, and a new draught prepared by him was passed. The occasion of my learning from Mr. Jay that he was the author of the ad dress to the people of Great Britain re quires explanation by a statement of some preceding circumstances. The 2d session of the Ist Congress met, on their own adjournment, in May, 1775. Peyton Randolph was their President. In the meantime Lord North's concili atory propositions came over to be laid by the Governors before their Legisla tures. Lord Dunmore accordingly called that of Virginia to meet in June. This obliged P. Randolph, as Speaker, to return. Our other old members be ing at Congress, he pressed me to draw the answer to Lord North's proposition. I accordingly did so, and it passed with a little softening of some expressions for which the times were not yet ripe, and wire-drawing and weakening others to satisfy individuals. I had been ap pointed to go on to Congress in place of Peyton Randolph, and proceeded im mediately, charged with presenting this answer to Congress. As it was the first which had been given, and the tone of it was strong, the mem bers were pleased with it, hoping it would have a good effect on the an swers of the other States. A commit tee which had been appointed to pre pare a declaration to be published by General Washington on his arrival at the army, having reported one, it was recommitted, and Dickinson and my self added to the Committee. On the adjournment of the House, happening to go out with 'Governor Livingston, one of the committee, I expressed to him my hope he would draw the dec laration. He modestly excused him self, and expressed his wish that I would do it. But, urging him with considerable importunity, he at length said: "you and I, sir, are but new ac quaintances; what can have excited so earnest a desire on your part that I should be the draughtsman ?" " Why, air," said I, " I have been informed you drew the address to the people of Great Britain. I think it the first composition in the English language; and, there fore, am anxious this declaration should be prepared by the same pen." He re plied ' that I might have been misin formed on that subject." A few days after, being in conversation with R. H. Lee in Congress Hall, a little before the meeting of the House, Mr. Jay observ ing us, came up, and taking R. H. Lee by a button of the coat, said to him pretty sternly : " I understand, sir, that you informed this gentleman that the address to the people of Great Britain, presented to the committee by me, was drawn by Governor Livings ton.' The fact was that the committee having consisted of only Lee, Livings ton, who was father-in-law of Jay, and Jay himself, and Lee's draught having ' been rejected, and Jay's approved so unequivocally, his suspicions naturally fell on Lee as author of the report, and the rather, as they daily had much spar ring in Congress, Lee being firm in the revolutionary measures, and Jay hang ing heavily on their rear. I immedi ately stopped Mr. Jay, and assured him that, though I had indeed been so in formed, it was not by Mr. Lee, whom I had never heard utter a word on the subject. I found Mr. Henry to be a silent and almost unmeddling member of. Con. gress. On the original opening of that body, while general grievances were the topic, he was in his element, and capti vated all by his bold and splendid elo quence. But as soon as they came to specific matters, to sober reasoning and solid argumentation, he had the good sense to perceive that his declamation, however excellent in its groper place, had no weight at all in such an assembly as that, of cool headed, reflecting, judi cious men. He ceased, therefore, in a great measure, to take any part in the business. He seemed, indeed, very tired of the place and wonderfully re lieved when, by appointment of the Virginia Convention to be Colonel of their first regiment, he was permitted to leave Congress about the last of July. How he acquitted himself of his mili tary command will be better known from others. He was relieved from this position again by being appointed Gov ernor on the first organization of the government. After my service as his successorin the same office, my appoint ment to Congress in 1783, mission to Europe in 1781 and appointment in the new government in 1789 kept us so far apart that I had no further personal knowledge of him. Mr. Henry began his career with very little property. He acted, as I have understood, as barkeeper in the tavern at Hanover C. H. for some time. He married very young, settled, I be lieve, at a place called the Roundabout in Louisa, got credit for some little stores of merchaddize, but very soon failed. From this he turned his views to the law, for the acquisition or prac tice of which, however, he was too lazy. Whenever the'courts were closed for the winter session he would make up a party of poor hunters of his neigh borhood, would go off with them to the piny woods of Fluvanna and pass weeks in hunting deer, of which he was passionately fond, sleeping under a tent, before a fire, wearing the same shirt the whole time, and covering all the dirt of his dress with a hunting shirt. He never undertook to draw pleadings If he could avoid it, or to manage that part of a cause and very unwillingly engaged but as an assistant to speak in the cause. And the fee was an indispensable pre liminary, observing to the appli cant that he kept no accounts, never putting pen to paper, which was true. Pr' spowers over a jury were so irresis tible that he received great fees for his services, and had the reputation of be ing insatiable in money. Alter about ten years practice in the County Courts he came to the GenerarCourt, where, however, being totally unqualified for MAIM OW ADVEILTISENG. EMlnuct3B Ains..a,Lev.a.alsaa, 112 a year per square of ten lines; $8 per year for each ad ditional square. BX.AL EIMATII, PERSONAMPROTZSTY,and tinr- MULL ICDVXR.TZW4G, 11) cents a line for the first, and 5 Dents for each subsequent laser. lion. Braciru. Norm= inserted in Local Column, 15 cents per line. Brame/. Norms preceding marriages and deaths, 10 cents per line for first insertion, and 5 cents for every subsequent insertion.) Bus/sass CARDS, of ten lines oriess, one year,—.... 10 Businessis, five lines or less, one 5 Laos/. ari - glE;r • Et -- s . a7Norrioss— Executors'.otices---- 2.50 Administrators' notioes,----. 2.50 Asfdanees' 2.50 Auditors' notices,...--- 2.00 Other "Notices," tenllxee, or less, three times ~,. ....»..............»......1.50 anything but mere jury causes, he de voted himself to these and chiefly to the criminal business. From these poor devils it was always understood that he squeezed exorbitant fees of £5O, £lOO and £2OO. From this source he made his great profits, and they were said to be great. His other business, exclusive of the criminal, would never, I ant sure, pay the expenses of his attendance. He now purchased from Mr. Lomax the valuable estate on the waters of Smith's River, to which he afterwards removed. The purchase was on long credit and finally paid in depreciated paper, not worth oak leaves. About the close of the war he engaged in the Yazoo speculation, and bought up a great deal of depreciated paper at 2s. and 2s. lid. In the pound to pay for it. At the close of the war many of us wished to reopen all accounts which had been paid in depreciated money, and have them settled by the scale tof depreciation. But on this he frowned most indignantly, and, knowing the general indisposition of the Legislature, it was considered hopeless to attempt it with such an opponent at their head as Henry. I believe he never distinguished himself so much as on the similar ques tion of British debts in the case of Jones and Walker. He had exerted a degree of interest in that case totally foreign to his character, and not only seemed, but had made himself really learned on the subject. Another of the great occasions on which he exhibited examples of elo quence such as probably had never been exceeded was on the question of adopt ing the new Constitution iu 17SS. To this he was most violently opposed, as is well known ; and after its adoption he continued hostile to it, expressing more than any other man in the U. S. his thorough contempt and hatred of General Washington. From being the most violentof all anti-Federalists, how ever he was brought over to the new Constitution by his Yazoo speculation, before mentioned. The Georgia Legis lature having declared that transaction fraudulent and void, the depreciated paper which he had bought up to pay for the Yazoo purchase was likely to remain on his hands worth nothing. But Hamilton's funding system came most opportunely to his relief and sud denly raised his paper from 2s. I id. to 275. rid. the pound. Hamilton became now his idol, and abandoning the Re publican advocates of the Constitution, the Federal government on Federal principles became his political creed. General Washington flattered him by au appointment to a mission to Spain, which he declined ; and by proposing to him the office of Secretary of State, on the most earnest solicitation of ( leneral Henry Lee, who pledged himself that Henry should not accept it. For General Washington knew that he was entirely unqualified for it, and moreover that his self-esteem had never suffered hiin to act as second to any man on earth. I had this fact from information, but that of the mis sion to Spain is of my own knowledge, because, after my retiring from the office of Secretary of State, Gen'. Wash ington passed the papers to Mr. Henry through my hands. Mr. Henry's apos tacy sunk him to nothing in the estima tion of his country. lie lost at once all that influence which Federalism had hoped, by cajoling him, to transfer with him to itself; and a man who, through a long and active life, had been the idol of his country beyond any one that ever lived, descended to the grave with less than its indifference, and verified tho saying Of the philosopher, that no man must be called happy till he is dead. pea gaticto. ESTATE OF JOIEN MODEKWELL, late of Drumore twp., deceased.—Letters Testamentary on said estate having been granted to the undersigned : All persons In debted thereto are requested to maice immedi ate payment, and those having claims or de mands against the same will present them for settlement to the undersigned, residing In said township. 11. E. RAUB, Jy 3 etwah Executor. 21 DM I N ISTILATOR'S NOTICE.-ESTATE of John Arndt, late of the Borough of Manhelin, Lancaster county, dee'd.—Letters of acinlnistsatiou on said estate having been granted to the undersigned; All persons in debted thereto are requested to matte immedi ate settlement, and those having claims or de mands against the Caine, will present then: without delay for settlement to the under signed, residing In said borough. HENRY ARDNT, NATHAN WORLEY, Administrators. y 31 Ls ..t.l) ESTATE OF .JOAN R. HENKEL. HE ceased, late or the City of Lancaster. Let ters of Administration on said estate having been granted to the undersigned, all persons indebted thereto, are requested to make imme diate pay merit, au d those having claims against the same, will present them without delay for settlement to the undersigned, residing infield city. CHARLES KNAPI', J e 26 (Uwe 27,1 Administrator. EI STATE OF JOSEPH H. HINEER, fj late of Eden township, Lancaster county, deceased. The undersigned Auditor, appoint ed to distribute the balance remaining in the hands of Daniel Lefever, Executor, to and among those legally entitled to the same, will sit for that purpose ON THURSDAY AU. OUST S'rif, at 2 o'clock, P. M., in the Library Room of the Cotirt House, in the City of Lan caster, where all persons Interested In said distribution may attend. I y 10 itw 271 .1. W. F. SWIFT, Auditor. EATATE OF MARY POLH, LATE OF Warwick township deceane' d.—The un uerslgned Auditor, appointed to distribute the balance remaining in the hands of Andrew B. Hackman, Administrator of said deceased, to and among those legally entitled to the same, will sit for that purpose on TH URSDAY, AU GUST 15, 1867, at 10 o'clock A. 51., In the Library Room of the Court House, in the City of Lan caster, where all persons interested In said distribution may attend. Jy 10 .Itw 77 AN D. H. FRANTZ, Auditor. ASSIGNED ESTATE OF WILLIAM Trostle and Wife, of Brecknock township. —The undersigned Auditor, appointed to pass upon exceptions and to distribute the balance remaining lu the hands of Jacob Uetz and Cy rus Ream, Assignees of William Trestle and. Wife, to and among those legally entitled to the same, will sit for that purpose on WED NESDAY, A UGLInT 7, Ism', at le o'clock A. M. in the Library Room of the Court House, In the City of Lancaster, where all persons Inter ested In said distribution may attend. Jy 10.1tw 27 J. W. F. SWIFT, Auditor. ADMIIVLSTRATOR'M NOTICE.----LET. term of Administration upon the Estate or John L. Sharp, late of the City of Lancas ter, deceased, having been taken out by the un dersigned, all persons Indebted to the estate of said deceased will please make payment forth with, and all persons having claims or de mands against the same, will please make them known to the undersigned without de- ANN SHARP, EMANUEL P. KELLER, Administrators. EX EC UTOR'S NOTICE .--- ALL PERSONS knowing themselves to be Indebted to the estate of William K. Clark, late of the town ship of Bart, In the county of Lancaster, Pa., will make immediate payment . to the under signed Executor, or his agent W. S. Ferree, Esq., residing near the Copper Mines, and all having any claims against the said estate will present them duly authenticated to . WILLIAM CLARK, Executor Columbia, Pa 1111913 ESTATE OF JOSEPH COMBO , LATE OF East Cocalico township, deceased.—Let ters of administration on said estate having been granted to the undersigned. all persons indebted thereto are requested to make imme diate settlement, and those having claims or demands against the same will present them without delay for settlement to the under- signed, residing In West Cocalico township. F. AUOthsTUI6 STREIN, July 17 6tw 118 Administrator. turdwart, stertg, U. G. 3.t. STEIN3fAN. C. F. KENCiIER. ISAAC DILLXR lIARDWAREI THE OLDEST AND LARGEST ESTABLISH] MENT IN CENTRAL PENNSYLVANIA. GEO. M. STEINMAN de CO., WEST ICINQ STREET, Having recently enlarged their store and thus greatly Increased their business facilities, now offer to the community, AT THE LOWEST PHILADELPHIA RATE, the finest assortment in the market, of HARD W ARE SADDLERY O ILS I` . Airrre, ,GL A 0.4 • StOVES _ _ IRON AND STEEL, CEDAR WARE SLEIGR-SELLS, CUTLERY, OIL CLOTHS, SKATES, & PERSONS COMMENCING HOUSEKEEPING will and a full assortment of goods In theft line. • They are also agents for a imperior article NAHA, and for DUPONT'S CELEBRATED GUN AND ROOK POWDER .The highest cash price paid for Clover Timothy, Mut old Flaz Seed. Idea 81 tld4w,
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