She punter Notational, PIS/ILIUM IMMIX WEIQUISI/AS BY H. 0. SMITH .t ,00. A. J. (3ntlMU3r H. G. SMITII TERMS—Two Dollars per annum, payable all cases In advance. TUE LANCASTER DAILY INTELLIGENcER is published every evening, Sunday excepted, at $6 per Annum in advance. • OFFlCE—Botrnmurr war= s car Cliarrai SQUAB& ptt'arg. Early Life or Daniel Webster BY JAMES PARTON ' Daniel Webster's father, a sturdy Now Hampshire farmer and miller of the early day, was one of those intelli gent and generous parents whose most cherished purpose is to give their chil dren a better education than they have enjoyed themselves. Every one was or then in the Northern parts of New Hampshire ; there were.few books, and none but district schools ; and, there fore, all the later years of Ebenezer Webster's life were a severe struggle to accomplish this' purpose. Daniel 17Vab ster relates, in one of his letters, an affecting conversation which occurred., one hot day in July, in the bay-field, between his father and himself, when he was about ten years old. It shows something of the character of both. A member of Congress came out to the hay field to see Captain Webster (he was called Captain from his having commanded a company in the Revolu tionary war), and, when the Member laid left, the old man called the boy to him; and they sat down on a hay-cock together, under an elm tree, which was standing a few years ago, and probably is still. " My son," began this strong-minded, proud, but uneducated man, "my son, that is a worthy man ; he is a Member of Congress ; he goes to Philadelphia, and gets six dollars a day, while I toll here. It is because ho had an educa tion, which I never had. If I had had his early education, I should have been in Philadelphia in his place. I came near I_ ,t as it was, But I missed it, and now rmust work here." •The tender-hearted boy was much af fected at these words, and began to cry. "My dear father," he exclaimed, "you shall not work. Brother and will work for you, and wear our hands out, and you shall rest." " My child," said the father, " it is of importance to me—l now live but for my children, I could not give your elder brother the advantages of knowledge, but I can do something for you. Exert yourself—improve your oppoitunities— Icarn—lcarti—and when I am gone,'you will not need to go through the hard ships which I have undergone, and which have made me an old man before my time." The;hrother whom Daniel spoke of was Ezekiel—two years older than him self. There were tell children of them all. live suns and five daughters; but these two splendid boys—Ezekiel, light haired and of fair complexion, and Daniel, as dark as an Indian, and of coal-black hair—were not merely the flower of the flock, but they were the only members of the family who were not quite ordinary mortals. The man ner in which these two boys obtained their education, as as related by Daniel Webster himse lf, is one of the most touching and pleasing narratives I ever read. Books were so scarce in the coun try, that these brothers took it for grant ed that every book they got hold of was to lie learned by heart. When Daniel was ten years of ago, he knew by heart almost all the hymn-book, besides a great many chapters in the Bible. One day, his father brought home Pope's Essay on Man, in pamphlet form. The boy took it, read it, liked it, read it again and again, and could soon repeat the whole of the four cantos. What a delightful anecdote Is this, related. by Daniel Webster himself: "I remember," ho wrote, "ono occur rence that shows the value then attached to books. The close .4 the year had brought along the next year's almanac. This wag all uequisltlull. A pegs was devoted to each month, and on the lop of each page were !bur lines of poetry—some moral,somesen limental, some ludicrous, Tito almanac! 010110 ill 1110 laming, and before night, my brother and myself were masters of its con tents, at least of its poetry and its anecdotes. We went to bed upon it; Litt awaking long before the morning light, we had a differ ence of 13001100.1011 abunt one word, in the third lino A prit's poetry. We could not set Ile it by argument, and there was no um pire. lint the fact could be ascertained by inspection of the book. I anise, groped my way to the kitchen, lighted a candle, pro ceeded to a distant room in search of the al mutat:, found it, and brought it away, The disputed passage was examined; I believe was retied to be in the wrong, and blow out lay candle, and went to bed, lint the sensequenee of my error had well nigh been serious. It was about two o'clock in In the morning, and Just as I was again go ing to sleep, I thought I. saw signs of light In the room 1 hail visited, I sprang out of my bed, ran to the door, opened the room, and It was all ou fire. I had accidentally lot fall a spark or carelessly touched the light to something which had commu nicated the tire to a parcel of cotton clothes; they had communicated it to the furniture and to the sides of the room and the flames had already begun to s how themselves through the ceiling, in the chamber above, A pretty earnest ery soon brought the household together. liy great good luck, we escaped. Two or three minutes more, and wo should all have been In danger of burning together. As It was 1 think the house was saved by my father l s presence of mind. While others went for water, ho seized everything movable which was on tire, and wrapped it up in woolen blankets. My maternal grandmother, then of the age of eighty, was sleeping in the room." According to his own account, lie was a lazy boy, fond of reading, but not of study ; fond of hunting and fishing, but not of hard work upon the farm. His favorite employment was working his father's Saw mill—because, when he had set the saw and let on the water, he had tell or fifteen minutes for reading. while the saw was cut thig off a board. He read a great many books, and learned many by heart while the saw was doing its work. lie was noted, as n boy, for the excellence of his reading. When he was but a little fellow, lie was often called upon by the farmers and teamsters, who came to his father's mill, to read a psalm for them, or a piece of poetry, which he would do in a slow, sonorous manner, imitating ills father, who was famous for his good reading. He was a very slender, feeble youth. When he was well enough, he went to the district school, three or feu miles oil', and when he was not at school, he attended the saw mill, anti performed all those miscellaneous labors about the farm which the youngest son was ex pected to do In those Limes. Such was II is I I fe until he was fourteen years of age. Oe a morning In May, 1796, his father mounted a horse, place t h e boy upon another, and started for the town of Exeter, at the other end of the State, where there was a famous academy, which still exists and flour ishes. Owing to the benevolence of the founder of this Institution, tuition was exceedingly cheap, and board not less HO so that Captain Webster (or rather Judge Webster now, for he had recently been appointed (Imlay Judge, at n sal ary of four hun deed dollars a year), was able to place his sun at it. It was at this school that Daniel Webster began to learn Latin, In which he made ex cellent progress. There was one of the school exercises, however, which lie could not do, and that was speak apiece before the boys. "Many a piece," he writes, "did I emu- I mull to memory, and svelte, and rehearse, In my own room, over and over again I yet; when the day came, when the school col luded to hear decluntationa when toy name was called, and 1 saw all eyes turned to lily seat, 1 could n o t ' , Mae tnynolf from It. Sometimes the 1111a11101.0111 frowned, sollis• times they mulled. Mr. ffuelcmlnater al ways 111 1 014110 d Had entreated most win ningly that I would venture; but I could never command mufficlent resolution, When the occlusion well over I wont home and wept bitter 1.01114 of inortillantion.ii s This was the more strange bootmoo he had boon aeouotomed to motto before company in his childhood. But he had never before been away from home in his life; and ho tolls us that when ho found himself, for the first time, among ninety boys, who seemed to know so much more than he did, ho almost lost his sonseo, When he had boon at school a few months, and was at home for the vacation, his father told him that he meant to send him to college. "The very idea," says Mr. :Webster, " thrilled my whole frame * * 0 I was -- quite overcome, and my head grow dizy. Tho thing appeared to me so high, and the expense and sacritico it was to cost my father so great, I could only proms his hand and shed tears." "I live but for my children, "said the • generous old man," and I will do all loan for you, if you wil do all you can for your!. self,'! • Ten months after Daniel Webster had learned his first lesson in the Latin grammar, he entered the freshman class of Dartmouth College. He.was very 'imperfectly prepared. In Latin, he ,hatt reed ,alittle Cicero, and less Virgil ; anti; • as fcir4Grea,.he knew „little more than the'alPhabet. .He improved his time, however; was perfectly correct in his . . • . . ... . ...,. •-:i : , '1 ti i : ::, • 1 :- i •'•'-- : : , - - - . - -- • ' ' ~ . .. ~ . .. . ..., _. ' ' "• • . ft:t..ll - • ft - . . • - ' , ..,.,,,,.. ~,,,,1 ::, ... „ ~ 1 ; '' "". ' ' : . . ''.;, ,, ,-;,:.111 1 ~,, ._)! .1 Of' ".I .-, .. i`.. 1 . ').1.:! • •• ;-,:•• 'kr t ',. . • ' 4 ' •''. t... ,; 1... ; : f 1 , ; .. '• 1 ff. •, ; . .„ . . !: r ~ ~ .:'.; I:.' '',','; .• :' . .. ' ''. .:. ,' ~ . .. ~ . ''.±%-,', 7 '• . - .14-t: , _ C y. . ,i',-, ;,.....,, .e ~' - - 3. :',, yi -- ~; ....'' . 4 :..., ... ,' _. a : • Cti . - 4 ..: ..,i., .• 1.3 - -, z!i '.. f 1... •: ... •:. • . ;ft ,;;.. '1 f 1 -111 ...•. ' ' . ; ' . . r • • . . ... . . . . . • , . •. . . .. . , . . .‘ ' . , . . .. • . . . . . . . - . ... VOLUME 69 habits, and was soon able to keep up with his class. Throughout his college course he was a most eager, devouring reader of books. He tells one story of his reading that is almost incredible.— He says that he found a Don Quixote, one day, and read the whole of it be fore he closed his eyes, and without lay ing the book down for five minutes. He paid his board, one year in college, by editing a weekly newspaper ; and he delivered two or three orations, which were published. " I trunt,". wrote Mr. Webster, once, "they are forgotten; they were in very bad taste. I had not then learned that all true power in writing is In the idea, not the style."—N. Y. Ledger. Escaped from Justice. It was a' bitter night in January— a night when homeless wanderers on the moors might have sunk down frozen to the earth, and the yery marrow seem ed to congeal in one's bones. "There is one advantage in steam," growled a fat old gentleman In the cor ner seat; "wind and weather don't affect it. No flesh and blood horsecould stand a night like this, but the iron horse keeps straight ahead, whether the thermometer is at zero or at boiling water heat." Just then the conductor entered. " Tickets, gentlemen, if you please." " It's a dreadful night, conductor," I said, feeling with stiffened lingers for my ticket, in the breast pocket of my coat." "Dreadful, air!" feelingly responded the conductor. " Why, the brakemen can't live outside, and so I loook the other way when they creep in, poor fellows, to get a breath of warm air at the stove. We haven't had such a night since a year ago come the second of February, when Tom Blakeslee, the baggage master, froze both feet, and a woman who was coming from Chicago got off at Blinn's Four Corners with her baby in her arms a corpse !" "Frozen to death!" "Aye, frozen to death ; and she never thought, poor thing, but that it was asleep. 'My baby's cold,' says she, ' but we'll soon warm it when we get home.' It was just such a night as this." And the conductor opened the door and plunged across the coupling into the next car, crying out "Hardwick !" it was quite a considerable city—with a handsome iron depot, flaring gas lamps, and the usual crowd around the platform, with hands in pockets, and cigar ends flaming through the night. Our car was nearly the last of the long train, and but a single person en tered it—a slender young girl, wrapped In a gray blanket shawl, and wearing a neat little traveling hat of gray straw, trimmed with stone-colored velvet flowers. She seemed to hesitate, like one used to traveling, and finally sat down near the door. " Pardon me, young lady," said I, "but you had better come nearer the stove.' She started, hesitated a minute, and then obeyed. "Does this train go to Bayswater ?" she asked, In a voice siMleliciously soft, and sweet that it seemed to thrill through me. "Yes; can I be of any service to you?" "Oh, no—at least not until we reach Bayswater. I would like a carriage then. "We shall not be there yet these iree hours." "1)0 we stop again?" " Only at Exmouth." She drew a deep sigh, seemingly of relief, and settled back in a corner. By the light of thelamp that hung its brass fixture opposite, I could see her face, that of a lovely child. Apparently she was not more than sixteen, with large blue eyes, golden hair drawn straight away from her face, and a little rosy mouth like that of a baby. "Do you expect friends to mee you at Bayswater, my child ?" I asked in cidentally. "No, sir—l am going to school there." "It will be an awkward hour for you to arrive by yourself—one In the morn ing." "Oh, I am not afraid" she said with au • artless little laugh; "I shall go straight to the Seminary." So the express train thundered on, with steady, ceaseless pulsing at its iron wart, and constant roar. - Suddenly the signal whistles sounded, he train began to Blacken Its speed. "Surely we're not at Exmouth yet," I thought, "unless I have fallen uncon sciously asleep and allowed the progress of time to escape me." I glanced at my watch; It was barely half-past eleven, and I knew we were not due at Exmouth until a few minutes after twelve. I rubbed the frost from the window pane and looked out. Wo had stopped at a lonely little way station In the midst of the dense pine woods. "Is this Exmouth ?" It was the soft voice of the pretty traveler opposite. "No, I don't know what place it Is— some way station." "Does this train stop at way sta. tlons ?" " Never ' generally; they must have been specially signalled here. You are cold, my child; your voice trembles." " It is cold," she said in a scarcely au dible voice, drawing her shawl around her. " Oh, how I wish they would hurry on 1" "Conductor"—for the man of tickets was passing through the car—" why did we stop at that backwoods place?' "Out of water," was the reply, as he hurriedly passed by. Now I knew perfectly well that this answer was not the true solution of the matter. Our delay had not exceeded half a minute, altogether too short a time for replenishing the boiler; and where on earth was the water to come from In that desolate stretch of barren pine woods?" Five minutes after the conductor re entered the car, and I made room for him at my side. "Sit down, conductor—you'venothing to-do this minute," He obeyed. " What did you mean by telling me such a lie Just now ?" I spoke under my breath ; lie replied in the same tone— " About what?" "About the reason you stopped just now." He smiled. "To tell you the truth, I stopped to take on a single passenger—a gentleman who has come down from Bayswater." " For the pleasure of traveling once more over the same route?" " Exactly sir—for the pleasure of tray ellngilt in certain society. Don't be alarmed for your own safety—lt's a de tective policeman." ~ A o I was about to repeat the words in as tonishment, when lie mentioned ins to silence. "And who is the offender ?" "I don't know myself yet. He does'ut want a scene until the moment of arrest ; we aro-safe enough until wo reach Bays. water." "Whore is he ?" ''The detective? He sits by the door yonder, with a ragged fur cap pulled over his eyes, Did you ever see a more perfect specimen of the dilpidatod coun tryman?" I smiled; I could hardly help it. " What is the case? "A murder—a man and his wife and two little children—their throat out last night, nud the house sot fire after- I wards." "Great Heavens((' whatwa monster I" Wo had eontlnu d the conversation In a whisper, scare is , above our breath, and now the conductor rose and left me to study the faces of my follow passen gers, with curious dread and horror. Somehow, often as I revolved the matter In my mind, my fancy would settle on a coarse, gross-looking man op. polite, with a bushy beard and a shaggy wool coat, with the collar turned up round his ears. I felt convinced that this man, with the brutal eyes, and the heavy hanging jaws was the Gain; and as I looked furtively across, I caught the wide open blue orbs of the fair little girl, . , Obeying the instAntaneous Impulse of my heart, I rose and went over to her. " You heard what we were saying my little one?" " Yes—a murder—oh, how horrible l" "Do not be frightened—no one shall hurt you." She smiled up in my face with sweet confiding innocence. Our stay at Exmouth was but brief; but during the delay I could see that the detective had changed his seat to one nearer the brutish man in the shag gy coat. • " Bee," faltered the young girl; "they looked the car doors at Exmoutli.; they are unlocking them now." She was right. "Probably they were fearful that the criminal would escape," I remarked in an'undertone. "Will you—may I trouble you to bring me a glass of water ?" - I rose and made. way towards the ice cooler by the door, but with difficulty, for the train was again under rapid mo tion. To my disappointment the tin goblet was chained to the shelf. • "No matter," said she, with a win ning smile, "I will come myself." I drew the water and held the cup; but instead of taking it as she approach ed, she brushed suddenly past me, opened the door and rushed out upon the platform. "Stop her! stop her !" shouted the detective springing to his feet. "She will be killed ; conductor—brakeman— hold up!" There was a rush—a tumult—a bustle; I was first upon the platform ; but it was empty and deserted, save by half frozen looking brakeman, who seemed horror-stricken. She went past me like a shadow, and jumped off as we crossed Cairn turnpike road, he stammered. "Jumped off the express train ; well she must have been killed instantly.— What mad folly!" It's five hundred dollars out of any pocket, said the de? tectivo, ruefully. " I did not want a row before we got to Bayswater, but I was a confounded fool. A woman cor nered will do anything, I believe ?" " What," I ejaculated, "you surely do not mean that child —" . . _ "I mean said the detective calmly, "that child as you call her, is Attila Burton, a married woman twenty-six years age, who last night murdered four persons In cold blood, and was trying to escape to Canada. That's what I mean." The train was stopped, and a party of us, lead by the conductor and detective, went back to search for any trace of the beautiful young creature, whose loveli ness and apparent Innocence had ap pealed to. my sympathies so earnestly. Nor was 11, - long before we found her, lying quite dead by the side of the track, frightfully mangled by the force of the fall, and multilated almost beyond re cognition. " Well, she's escaped justice In this world if not in the next," said the de tective gloomailly, as he stood looking down upon her remains. "Do you suppole she expected to be able to spring off the morning train without injury ?" I asked. " Without much injury—yes ; women are such unreasoning creatures. But I never dreamed of such insane folly, or I should have taken prompt measures to prevent it." They lifted up the fair dead thing, and carried it to the nearest place of refuge —a lonely farm house among the frozen hills, and we returned to the train, reaching Bayswater only a few min utes behind our regular time. And when in the next morning's papers, I read the account of the mur deress, I thought of the slender crea ture's blue eyes, and rose-bud mouth, with a strange, pitying thrill at my heart. A Strange Story. Dimeovery 01 a Cavern on the Palisades The - 11fetropolikin Record has a cor respondent who writes to that journal to say : " I am the discoverer of ad immense cavern in the Palisades of the Hudson, fully one mile in length, and at least half a mile wide, with a vaulted roof, higher than that of Trinity Church, supported by innumerable pillars, which must have been erected by the hand of man many centuries since, and furnish ed with innumerable side recesses, ante chambers, and long winding passages of the most wonderful construction. Ruins of what have evidently been alters, erected thousands of years ago, are abundant, together with the mould ering bones of beings of enormous stat ure, as belonging to a race of giants that formerly inhabited the earth. The floors of this remarkable cavern are as smooth and hard as granite, though covered deep with the dust of centuries. Here and there a lower deep is discernible through the all-pervading gloom, with spacious stone steps lending thereto.— Prom these mysterious cavities the sound of rushing waters fall upon the ear, with other reverberations of a strange, unearthly character. The cavern, it is manifest, is not, likethe Kentucky cave, a freak of nature, but as already con jectured, the work of man, In some early period of the world's history. Cabalistic signs cover the bases of some of the pillars, while figures bearing a close resemblance to sphynxes, deaths' heads, and mummies, as if of Egyptian design, adorn various portions of the walls and roof. It is certainly passing strange that the existence of this re markable subterraneanpalace (for it richly deserves the name) should have so long remained a profound mystery, lying as it does close to the most popu lous city in America. Its grassy roof, even now, constitutes the favorite play ground of thousands of unsuspecting school children, as well as the favorite resort of innumerable picnic parties on summer afternoons. Its mode of dis covery by myself was as follows : Wan dering along the Palisade ridges one af. . _ ternoon lasi summer, for recreation and study, I sat down to rest myself under the shadow of a tree. Immediately af terward a couple of rabbits darted past me, and the endeavor to capture them brought rue to a small crevice in the hill, partially concealed by a clump of shrubbery. \ Into this crevice the ani mals darted, and rooting up the shrub bery in order to dislodge them, judge of my surprise on discovering an opening spacious enough to admit of the en trance of :a man's body. A feeling of fear at first crept over me, and I looked around to see if any person was near, to help me examine the place; but not a soul at the time was within calling dis tance ; and so, after recovering my self possession a little, I resolved to look in —not, however, without some serious misgivings as to the possible presence of some huge anaconda that might deprive me of my head. Gradually mustering courage, in I went, and to my surprise discovered that the further 1 went the wider grew the aperture. My courage, however, had been severely tested, and after making such observations as the darkness and close atmosphere would permit. I groped back to the light of day, and carefully closed up the entrance to the place, mentally resolving to return next day to pursue my explorations. My first Im pulse was to communicate the secret to some friend in whom I could confide ; but the reflection that the cave might contain hidden treasure, which in that case would have to be divided, persuad ed me that it were best to keep the dis covery private. The next day was stormy, and I did not go, but, providing myself with a dark lantern, on the fol lowing morning I renewed my research, with what results, exalting my wonder and amazement, you are already in formed. From that day to this my ex plorations have been on an average once a week, unless intermitted by ill health. Every succeeding visit reveals something new, and the marvels of to. day aro quite thrown into the shade by the yet more startling discoveries Whilet break on the eye and ear to-morrow.— A remarkable circumstance which I have forgotten to note is, that the at mosphere in the body of the cavern is perfectly pure, though I have not been able to discover any outlet or inlet for ventilation, apart from the orifice thro' which I obtained ingress. My theory is, that the rushing waters in the sub cavern furnish the means of renewidg the atmosphere. There are small pools of salt water imbedded in the floor of the cavern, but no fish inhabit them. For that mattcr indeed, no signs of ani mal life are visible. In all that dark, deserted mansion, a death-ilke silence reigns, broken only by the Avail of the before mentioned unseen waters in the recesses beneath." A meeting composed of Virginia nogroes, has petitioned Gen. SaholloW to stop the naturalization of foreigners; Tho prohibitionists of Boston have it in contemplation to build a hotel to bo con. ductod upon the total abstinence plan. A real steamboat in motion is the feature of a new American sensational play that has boon copyrighted and patented, The Mothodist Church, it is reported had throughout the world at the +beginning of the presont year, a membership of 0,000,- 000, and including the probationereita num bers swelled to 8,000,000. The place of Senator Fowler upon the Na tional Republican Committee has been de clared vacant, and filled by Hon. Thomas G. Alvord, of Now York, LANCASTER PA. WEDNESDAY.. MORNING JUNE 10 1868 The DlZeultles of Identification. From the Spectator A man, in all human probability an es caped lunatic, named Heasman , was found on Friday week in the cupbOard of. La house in Hackney Wick, dead. There appeared at first to be a strong presumption that he had either been murdered or had committed suicide In some exceptional and, so to speak, luta tic way.; but the medlcalevidence tends to prove suicide by laudanum, and it is not with the mode of his death that we are Just now concerned. A much strait.; ger question arose about his identifica tion. Great publicity had been given to the circumstances attending the dis covery of his body, and on Sunday a number of persons, usually provided with photographs, visited the Hackney . dead-house—or "mortuary," as the re porters are pleased to call it—to see if the features corresponded with those of missing friends. It is strange, but certain, that no reasonable cause for disappearance, like the breaking of the ice in Regent's Park, is ever described In London, but dozens of familes are ready to testify that one of their mem bers has disappeared. Among the In quirers was Dr. Ellis, Medical Superin tendent of St. Luke's, who recognized the body, showed that the clothes were, beyond all doubt, those of a patient in St. Luke's, and declared that the name of the deceased was Heas man—the name of a patient who had recently escaped from the establishment. The name on the stockings worn by deceased correspond ed with this statement. Dr. Ellis has no personal interest in the matter one way or the other, and on the following day the brother of the unhappy man, apparently an unexceptionable witness, confirmed the physician's view. The body, beyond all doubt, was that of his brother, Mr. B. Heasman, recently a patient in St. Luke's. One would think such a mass of evidence was beyond all doubt, past any reasonable cavil, yet it ii certain that one visitor, totally un connected with the asylum, produced a photograph very like the deceased, and that another, Mrs. Mary Ann Banks, positively affirms that the body is that of her husband, Mr. Ebenezer Charles Banks, a cornmerolal traveller. She adhered to this statement upon oath in the Coroner's Court, her two sisters par tially support her, and she has one strong circumstance in favor of her statement. Before she had seen the body she described a particular wound upon the little finger, which Ae yound appears to have been foun Some doubt was thrown upon her stimony before the Coroner, by a suggestion that she wanted to obtain some insurance depending upon her late husband's death ; but the suggestion was not sup ported, and the balance of evidence goes to show that Mre. Banks, though possi bly very eager to be certain of her miss ing husband's fate, was honest, and really believed in an identity which nevertheless is completely disproved. The interest felt in the case, an inter est out of all proportion to the import ance of the facts, reveals a curious doubt which is always latent in the public mind, and which has, we suspect, as much justification as popular instincts usually have, a doubt whether appear ance is conclusive, or even strong evi dence of identity. The doubt is proba bly based upon tradition which deals much in stories of mistaken iden- ty, but wo aro inclined to lieve it much more solid than either policemen or artists would be willing to allow. A large proportion of ordi nary persons, it may be even a majo rity, but certainly a very large propor tion, are very untrustworthy witnesses to identify when dependent on ap pearance alone. They are either from nature or habit incapable of apprecia ting form, and form alone Is the uner ring proof of personal Identity. The difficulties in the way of identification, more especially of the dead, are to them insuperable. In. the first place, people are much more similar than we always remember. Without ac cepting or disputing the extra ordinary idea which exists in so many countries, and is the basis of so many fables, that every man has his " double" somewhere, an individual ab solutely identical in appearance with himself, it is quite certain - that the most extraordinary likenesses do exist among persons wholly disconnected in blood, that there are faces and forme in the world which are rather types than individualities, people so like one an other that only the most intimate friends and connections can detect the difference. The likeness of Madame La motte to Marie Antoinette is a well known historic instance, and there are few persons who have not in the course of their own experience met with some thing of the same kind. The writer has twice. In one case, he was on board a ship in which were two passengers, who neither were, nor by possibility could be, connected by birth or any other cir cumstance whatever, except in caste. Oddly enough, they were unaware of a likeness which was the talk ofthe ship, dressed in the same style, but from some inexplicable repulsion—we are stating mere facts—disliked and avoid ed one another. The writer, in a six weeks' voyage and with a tolerably in timate acquaintance with one of the two, never succeeded in distinguishing them by sight; and of the remaining passengers, certainly one-half say thirty educated persons, were in the same predicament. In the second in stance the evidence is far less perfect, but sufficient for the argument we are now advocating. The writer stopped short in Bond street, utterly puzzled by the apparition of one of his closest con nections not two yards off. Clearly it was he, yet he could from circumstan ces by no possibility be there. Still it was he, and the writer advanced to ad dress him, when a momentary smile broke the spell, leaving, however, this impression, " I would have sworn to Blank in any Court of Justice. His double must be walking about Bond street." The likeness was really as tounding, quite sufficient to have de ceived any number of policemen unac quainted previously with either man. The writer has a faculty for likeness, or a stupidity about Identities? That is a plausible, though an erroneous ex. planation, and it brings up just the point we want to make. Is it not just possi• ble—it Is rather a serious supposition., when our criminal procedure is consid ered—but is it not just possible that something like colour blindness affects his matter of Identification? that there is a large number of persons whose evidence upon any question of identity, thCugh perfectly honest, is worthy of very little trust ? that men upon this, as upon most other matters, are guilty of an unconscious carelessness t like that which makes te%timony about figured statements so often valueless ? We are all apt to think that we observe faces very carefully, but it is quite certain, more certain than almost any assertion of the same kind, that we do not so observe them. We are also apt to belle that the differ ence in faces is very greet, is radical, and not dependent upon no idental features, yet it Fa almost certain that no such dif ference masts, that men aro in reality as nearly alike as animals appear to be. Take, for instance, in evidence of both these propositions—of the carelessness of our usual glance, and of the similar ity among men—a fact which a number of our redders can test for themselves. No man on landing at an Indian or Chinese port for the first time can for a few days tell ono 'man trom,another. The natives aro more decisively unlike than so many Englishmen, because in addition to everyothor distinction their complexions cover a wider range of color; but being similarly dressed, they seem for a few days as much alike as so many sheep, who are all alike to a Lon doner, but among whom a shepherd or a dog makes no mistake. Now, if men were much unlike, more unlike than the sheep are, no such curious haziness would be possible, nor would it be if the observer were unconsciously in ,the habit of studying the form and charac ter of each face. He has, as a rule, no such habit, but, unless an artist or a policeman, relies unconsciously on ac cidental circumstances, color, hair on lip or chin, gait, expression, or peculi arity of some one feature, and should that by any accident disappear hell ut terly puzzled. One-tenth, at least, of Western mankind is consciously or un consciously short-sighted, anal never sees in any true sense of seeing any face whatever, never quite catches its nuan ces of expression, never Is quite sure about its minor features never quite ceases to idealize according to a pre conceived theory of character. Even of those who do see perfectly a large proportion are not artists, never catch . . the speciality of the'faci they are bolt ing at enough to caricature sit,—ifomei faces wont submit lo caricature, Lord Derys, ',for ' instance , : and Mr. Glad stone s, in both of which the cub:star ist invariably intensifies the whole ex: pression--and really recollect it mainly by its accidents of colour or the like, accidents which may disappear in life a and which do disappear in death.' His not easy to recognize the photographs of men whose appearance depends on colonr, and , death does its . work in de stroying colour even more perfeotly than the sun.. Fatness and thinness, too, are great aids to recognition; yet they are temporary dependent: sometimes on mere accidents of health. We have all of ns met friends whom we have not seen, say, for three years who have grown wider, if not wiser, in the inter val, and whom we should.: not without speech have recognized. Death, as a rule, while it leaves much unchanged, absolutely 4 ae strop every distinction based - nither d t t upon colour or upon fatness, an offi fics thinness in the most une _ ted way, revealing unsuspected the about brow and mouth, while aving the cheek nntouched. No childis .re 'cognizable in death by mere acquaint : ance, because in children's faces the prominent points are colour and con tour. An actor cannot change his real face, but only the accidents of the face; yet Mr, Webster, for example, has once or twice deceived his audience for some minutes, and could, we suspect, deceive them, if atwere his object, altogether. Think, again, of the excessive diffi culty with which the memory retains a face. Portrait painters of half a cen tury's standing will tell ynu that they hardly retain the impression of a sitter five minutes, though they have been studying him keenly; that their own first touches from him as he sits are in valuable helps ; that they would all if it were convenient for art reasons, like to keep a photograph In full view for their work when the original is away. We think we remember, but in five minutes we forget, the half of a friend's face nearly as perfectly as we forget the whole of our own. Clearly if identifi cation were as easy as we are apt to be lieve, we should not so forget faces. And their expression ? Doubtless, ex pression, being, so to speak, an in tellectual rather than a physical fact, stirring and rousing the intellect of the observer, his secret and al most instinctive likes and dislikes, re mains longer fixed in the mind than mere .feature. The witness who ar rested Judge Jeffries might have for gotten his face, did forget It, in fact, for Jeffries when seized had only changed his wig, but he could not for get the ferocious .glare of . those insuf ferable eyes. But expression changes quickly, may change permanently. We all say every now and then "His face quite changed," while nothing is changed except, perhaps, the expres sion and the color. Madness, ex treme anger, drink, will all change a well known face till it is almost ir recognizable ; and though, no doubt, it requires a combination of circum stances to deceive a wife as to her hus band's identity, still there is one expres • sion which inn case like that of Hack ney Wick she has never seen, and that in death, of all influences the one which may most modify expression, both by altering the set of the features, and changing the emotional medium through which we regard them. No doubt there are faces so marked and so individual, so completely isolated from any type, and so independ ent of accident, that it is almost impossible they should ever be forget ten or mistaken. It would have been nearly impossible for Sir Thomas More to disguise himself, and we question if Dr. Newman or Mr. Tennyson could abolish the expression of eye and brow sufficiently to bailie recognition ; and there are artists, and as the public be lieves detectives, who would recognize any face under any disguise. But the majority of men trying under changed circumstances to recognize ordinary faces from their memories of feature alone are liable, we feel convinced, to self.deceptions as extraordinary and yet as natural as that we may charitably attribute to this Mrs. Banks, or that which prompted the evidence against the marine so nearly hung for his share in the recent Manchester emeute. Western:ldeas of " Fun." A Wisconsin paper gives the follow. ing graphic but not flattering illustra tion of society in Oshkosh, in the same State: A minister from a neighboring town started to go, one day last week, on a kind of missionary enterprise. He drove his own team, and when within about six miles of the end of his jour ney, he met a man limping along, with the blood running down the side of his face. The minister asked him if that was the road to Oshkosh. "Yee, you are on the right road. I just came from there. I have been up there having a little fun with the boys." About two miles further on he met another man, one arm in a sling,one eye badly bunged, and his clothing in a dilapidated condi tion. "How far is It to Oshkosh ?" asked the minister. "Only (h-i-c) five miles," answered the pliable object. "Oshkosh is a live town. I've been up there having fun with the boys." With a sad heart the minister drove on falling into revery on the depravity of man in general, and the Oshkoshians in partic ular, when he suddenly came upon a man sitting by the side of the road. One arm was sprained, one ear had been bitten off, and, seated by the side of a puddle of water, he was seeking relief by bathing the part affected. The minister was perfdctly awe stricken. Stopping his horse, he inquired of the man what terrible accident had befallen him. "0, not any at;all," faintly responded the bleed ing wreck ; " I .have only been up to Oshkosh, having a little fun with the boys." " I suppose you mean by that that you have engaged in some brutal izing fight," said the minister. "Yes," said the man. " I have heard that's what they call it down at Found du Lac, where they are civilized ; but they don't call it by that name up at Oshkosh. There they call It have a little fun with, the boys." " What do you suppose your wife will say when she sees you ?" asked the reverend gen tleman. At this the man looked up with a sardonic smile. Putting his remaining well hand in a pocket, he pulled out a piece of nose, a large lock of hair, to which a part of the scalp was attached, and a piece of flesh he had bitten from the clefs& of his opponent, and holding them out for the minister's inspection, growled out, " There, what do you suppose his wife will say when she sees him ?" This was a squelcher. As anxious as the minister was to over come sin and do good, he was not yet prepared to invade the devil's strong hold; and, turning round, he returned home. The next time he starts on a missionary enterprise to the frontier of Oshkosh, he will take good care not to go alone. He likes a little fun now and then, but he don't care about having it with the boys. Custom of Ecuador. The custom of marrying very young prevails in Ecuador, and students often times marry before they have:completed their studies. It is not uncommon for those boy husbands, after a few months struggle with poverty, to return their wives to their parents on account of be ing unable to support them. The risk, however, of being thus discarded, does not prevent the girls trying matrimon ial life as early as possible. The foe for solemnizing a marriage between white people is ten dollars; between the mixed broad el: dollars; and between In. diens or negroes three dollars; the poorer classes are often unable to pay these fees, and so live together without being married. The Indians are strongly attached to their wives, but treat them with 'great cruelty. The women, however, take very kindly to beatings and a British WU cer who unceootectd an Indian woman from the mostcruel pounding, was re• buked by the woman for his interfer ence with the remark, "He le my bus band, and has a right to beat me." The fees exacted by the clergy for burials, like the marriage fees, dependlupon the race of the corpse and the fees for the three classes previously mentioned are twenty dollars, six dollars and three dollars. Prayers said over the body are made an extra charge, and there must be fees paid for singing and various other things. For children under ten years of age, the fees for burial are six dollars, three dollars and one dollar.— The Spaniard shrinks with horror from " being burled like Indians," and for the purpose of keeping up the distine time of the race, these unequal fete are continued, god ititAligracte Sleeting tif the Citizens at Lancaster to Take action in Refereneeto the Cu neral of Ur. Mutacw. . On Tuesday, in pursuance ofacaltiasned by Mayor Sanderson at the request of mazy personsia meeting of the citizens of Lan caster wee held in the Court House to take measures for testifying their sorrow at the death of Ex-President Buchanan, and to take action in reference to the funeral cere monies. -The attendance was large, nearly all the more prominent citizens of the, city, without distinction of party, being present. An air of solemnity pervaded the audience, and it was evident that a lbeling of profound sorrow and unfeigned regret at the deparr ture of the deceased prevailed. Quite a number of persons from different parts of the county, who were present at Court and in the city attending to other business, were among the audience. On motion of Col. D. W. Patterson, Hon, George Sanderson, Mayor of the city,_was called upon to preside over the meeting. On taking the chair, Mayor Sanderson said: FELLOW CITIZENS is scarcely neces sary for me to state the object of this meeting. It appears in the call which was published in the evening papers,—a call which I made at the request of a number of prominent citizens. The object is to tes tify our sorrow at the decease of our most distinguished fellow-citizen, Hon. JAMES BUCHANAN, and to takesuch action as may be deemed proper, in paying the last tri bute of respect to his remains. He was a man of distinguished ability, and for near ly sixty years a citizen of Lancaster. With the exception of the years spent abroad in a diplomatic capacity, and at Washington in other exalted political positions, he has resided in or near this city since 1809. With marked fitness and great ability he filled nearly every official position in the gift of the people. Full of honors and of years he has departed from this life. Having re flected honor, not only on this the city of his choice, but on the State and the Na tion. He has left us to mourn his loss.— In the State Legislature, to Congress, at the highest Courts abroad, as Secretary of State, and as Chief Ruler of this great nation, Mr. Buchanan served with great distinc tion. At the ripe age of 70 years, he re tired from the Presidency and again took up his residence among us, living in digni tied priVacy and dispensing the hospitali ties cf his home respected and esteemed by his fellow-citizens. It is fitting and proper that we should express our sorrow at his decease in an appropriate manner, and by such public action as may be deemed ap propriate to the occasion. The following gentlemen were elected Vice Presidents of the meeting: Hon. Anthony E. Roberts, J. Franklin Reigart, Esq., Col. Emlen Franklin, Col. F. S. Pyfer, John Metzger, Gen. J. W. Fisher, Jeremiah McElligott, Rev. E. V. Gerhart, and Charles J. Beale of this city, and Abraham Collins of Coney twp., Sam'l P. Bower, Esq., of Strasburg bor., George Byrod Esq., of Elizabethtown, and Rev. Mr. Stewart of Colerain. 11. G. Smith, Benjamin Obor, and Col. Samuel Price were appointed Secretaries. On motion of Col. Wm. S. Amweg a com mittee of thirteen was appointed to draft resolutions expressing the sense of the meeting. The President announced the following ns the Committee: Col. W. S. Amweg, Samuel H. Reynolds Esq., Col. Emlen Franklin, John A. Sheaf, Col. D. W. Patterson, Wm. A. Morton, Robert A. Evans, A. J. Steinman Esq., J. W. Jackson,'.Robert J. Houston, Cornelius H Collins, Lewis Haldy, and A. err Smith, Esq. While the Committee on Resolutions was absent, speeches were made by a number of prominent citizens. Gen.q. W. Fisher said: Mr. President and Fellow Citizens : For me to say that I have nothing to say on an occasion such as the present, would be to confess that I had lived in ignorance of the history of my country for the last fifty years. We are met here to express onr sincere regrot at the death of our most emi nent fellow-citizen, one who has been hon ored by his countrymen to an extent that very few men have, a man of the most dis tinguished ability and of pure and irre proachable private character. For thirty years his voice was a power in the State and the Nation, and during that period, when the tongue now silent in death, spoke, it was with authority. His voice was po tential in affairs of State, and he gave counsel to the nation. Ills career was a marked one, and he filled many high offices; the highest in the country among others, with distinguished ability. Ho has passed away and all party feeling in reference to him should be buried in the coffin with him. I have no doubt he hon estly loved his country, and endeavored to serve her to the very best of his ability,—to 'discharge all the important duties that de volved upon him with conscientious ity. I trust that the action here to-night will be such as becomes the dignity of the ocea slon. Hon. Isaac) E. Hiester spoke with much feeling as follows: Ma. PRESIDENT appears to me to bo superfluous for any man to speak in praise of JAMES BUCHANAN, hero in the presence of those who know him so well and es teemed and revered him so muoh. He was not a native of this county, but was born in the State and of his own free choice he se lected this city as the sphere in which to begin the practice of an honorable profes sion. This building in which we are now assembled was not the scene of his forensic triumphs, but it is the successor to that Hall of Justice the walls of which so often echoed to his eloquent voice. There wore giants at the Bar of Lancaster in those days, and first and above all, towered the deceas ed. There was ,Hopkins his preceptor, a man of great learning and exalted legal tal ents; there was Montgomery, the silver tongued, and Rodgers, who adorned the Bench of the Supreme Court of Pennsylva• nia. Yet above all these, in all that con stitutes the great lawyer, stood James Buchanan. I had the honor, sir, to make a motion in Court on the morning of his death, that that body adjourn on hearing of the sad event ; and on that occasion I paid a pass ing tribute to his fame. The speeches which were then made wore not those of empty and unmeaning compliment. The words spoken came fresh from feeling hearts. I have convincing proof that others were as honest in their eulogies as I was in what I then uttered. I have heard Judge Hayes id' private conversation say oven more than he did in his speech on that occasion. He has told me that ho never listened to an advo cate who was equal to Mr. Buchanan, whether in clear and logical argument to the Court, or in convincing appeals to the reason and the sympathies of a jury. That I know to be the honest expression of hie unbiased views. Judge Long was not at the bar during the professional career of Mr. Buchanan, lout ho was an officer of the Court and thrown in intimate association with him. Ho know him well and I know that his words came from an honest and feeling heart. But it was not merely as a lawyer, nor yet as a statesman that he chiefly won Up esteem and regard of his fellow-citizens, it was as a man and gentleman, a neighbor and a friend. When the poor were in want the hand of James Buchanan was always open to relieve. He did not wait until death should render money valueless to him to make donations. His munificent gift to the poor of thia.city had the unction of a gift in lile. Such gifts aro always more honorable than those made when the pos sessor of property bee no further use for it. Not only in public donations but also in private was the charity of the deceased seen. No worthy sufferer ever appealed to him without meeting a generous response. To every inhabitant of this city the tow ering and manly form of the deceased was familiar. On the street ho had a cheerful greeting and a kindly word for ovary citi zen. The same courtliness of manner which marked him as a Minister abroad, and lent to him an unusual grace and dig nity in the Senate Chamber and the Presi dential Mansion, distinguished him in pri vate intercourse at home. Wherever found be was always the same affable, high•toned Christian gentleman. He was a Christian in the true sense of the word, and a gentle man in every relation and aspect of life. To that every man who hears mo will boar most willing testimony. It becomes' the people of Lancaster city and county to honor the memory of James Buchanan, for through all his long and use ful life ho reflected honor upon them. Ho wan proud of the people of Lancastor,proud to be called their roprosentative,andproud lo be known and recognised as the roproson• tative of Pennsylvania. Ho was much at tached to this people, and they in turn hon ored and loved him. It is therefore our duty, as it is the pleasure of all present without respect to party, to beer testimony to the high character of the illustrious dead, and to unite in a last end fitting tribute of respect to his memory. ROV. Mr. Stewart, of Coleraine, made a few remarks, in which lutpaid a high tribute to Mr. Buchanan as a Christian gentleman. To his Christian character be bore high tes timony, having known him well. Hon. Anthony B. Roberts said I Though not much in Use habit of making public speochei, I dedro to pay my tribute to the memory of one who seemed to have outlived all his cotemporaries. I know him, had much intercourse with him and hived and esteemed him. He was a gentleman in the highest and beat sense of the term. During my brief career at Washington I was thrown into association with him, and the kindliest relations existed between n Though differing in polities, Ibelieve I ha. his confidence and respect, I sin perhaps one of the oldest men here to-night, yet Mr. Buchanan was on the stage of publlo life before my day. He had Taw compeers id the political world, and they are all gone. Ho was the last one of his day remaining.' I concur most heartily in all that has been said in praise of him.. . Mr. Cochran introduced Hon. Samuel Hepburn, of Carlisle, who proceeded to, speak in praise of the deceased, saying, I have known James Buchanan -from boyhood. HeWas a'warm personal friend of mine; and I Wall greatly attached to him. It can be said Of him, as It was of Henry Clay, that he had many devoted friends and not a few bitter enemies. It was his tcilse in publid life where the most ex- GIB= questicas.of: national politics were agitated, and the animosities of party were naturally. difeetedlcTlim. That history will .do !Ifni • ample.justioe, no intelligent man can doubt. He has left the materials behind him to set all that right. The senti ment here to-night shows that the people of Lancaster deeply feel the loss of him whom I mourn as a devoted friend. Judge Hepburn apologized for the brevity of his speech by saying that he had come with no _expectation of being called upon to speak : Major It. W. Shenk said he had listened with pleasure to theap es which had been made, and expressed the conviction that all party animosities, so far as they related to Mr. Buchanan,would be buried in thegrave with him. He paid a proper tribute to the intellectual capacity and great energy of the deceased, and said that his career fur nished an illustrious example by which every yobth might - profit. While Mr. Shenk was still speaking the committee on resolutions returned, and he gave way to the chairman, .W. S. Amweg, Esq., who reported - tile following minErann Wit.4,rteas, We have with profound re gret bearal the announcement of the death of . lion. lames Buchanan, an old and re spected citizen of Lancaster, a lawyer of eminent ability, for years our representa tive In the councils or the State and the na tion, a dlithiguished Diplomatist, Ex-Presi• dent of the:United States, and a gentleman whose private virtues added crowning or naments Id his public fame ; therefore be it Resolved, That Hon. George Sanderson; Mayor of the city of Lancaster, be, and lie is hereby requested to Issue his proclama tion, ordering all places An usiness to be closed from the hour of clock until o'clock on 1,1,3 afternoon of T hursday, the Fourth deka June, during the trine of the funeral ceremonies. Resolved , That the Clergy of the city and county of Lancaster, the Trustees, Faculty and Students of Franklin Marshal Col lege the Trustees, Faculty and Students of the Millersville Norman School the different societies, the firemen, the officers of the County and of the United States, and the citizens generally be requested to attend the obsequies at 3 o'clock, on Thursday next, from his late residence at Wheatland, as a last mark of respect to our deceased fellow-citizen, Ex-President Buchanan. Resolved, That the Mayor be requested to make arrangements for the tolling of the bells during the time of the passage of the funeral procession from Wheatland to the cemetery. Resolved, That these resolutions be pub• lished in all the newspapers of the city and county. Samuel H. Reynolds, Esq., paid an elo quent and beautiful tribute to the memory of the departed. He said :—I did not know JAMES BUCH ANAN when in the fullness of his great man hood he held listening Senate* spell bound by the magic of hik eloquence, but from in fancy I knew him by reputation as one of the greatest men of the Nation, the fore most man of all in his native State of Penn sylvania. For years he was the first citizen of this great Commonwealth, representing her with the most distinguished ability.— Whatever differences of opinion there may be In regard to his political career, there is and can be none as to his great worth and high moral character. If hehad faults these will now be forgotten; and he will only be remembered as one of our moat illustrious dead with whom de deserves to be classed. To political animosities death has proclaim ed a truce,and we will enjoin heartilyin pay ing the last tribute of respect to the memory of the men who reflected lustre and honor upon us his fellow-citizens. To the young his life furnishes a bright example. He was a man of grrat energy and untiring in dustry, and to those sterling qualities he was indebted for much of his success in life, I need pronounce no eulogy here. The name of the departed citizen, whose loss we mourn, shall live long after the marble which marks his last resting place shall have crumbled to dust. a. Gem A. D. Ditmars spoke as follows: Mr. President—Mr. Buchanan's career was remarkable. Starting at Stony Batter a barefoot boy, he olimed to the highest office in the world. A rail splitter of Illi nois did the same thing. The effect of such an example is incalculable. A Republic is the only place on earth where such a thing is possible. In a monarchy the oldest eon of the Ring mounts the throne, •though a villain bespattered with crime, a fool or an , idiot. On motion, the meeting then adjourned. Throughout its oontlnuance the quiet order which preyalled showed how much those who wore present were Impressed by the solemnity of the occasion. Ifeetlus of the Lancaster Ear In Safer ence to the Death of E:•Presldent Buchanan At 9 o'clock on Thursday morning last, a very full meeting of the Lancaster Bar was held in the Court House, to take action in relation to the decease of its oldest and most distinguished member, Hon. James Buchanan. On motion of Wm. Ang. Atlee Esq., Judge Long was called to the chair, and Messrs. Wm. Leaman and Col. P. S. Pyfer were appointed Secretaries. In a few brief and exceedingly appropri ate remarks, Judgo Long stated the object of the meeting. W. W. Brown, Esq., then delivered an eloquent eulogy upon the character of the deceased. EULOGY OF W. W. BROWN, EMI Mn. CHAIRMAN: We are assembled here upon a sad occasion. The most eminent member of this Bar has departed this life. James Buchanan, whose fame is world wide, and who in his life illustrated all the shining virtues that adorn the human char acter, is no more. The place he tilled while in full practice at this bar, required talent, industry and c.hnracter of the highest order ; and he came up to the fall measure of all those sterling qualities which alone can command success in the profession of the law. Of Mr. Buchanan as a statesman, this is not the appropriate time or place to speak. We aro assembled here to pay our last sad tribute of respect to his memory as a mem ber of our own profession, in which in early life he attained such pro-eminent distinc tion. The distinguished position held by Mr. Buchanan at this Bar, was not the re sult of accident or of adventitious circum stances. It was by force of the innate pow ere of a mind strong by nature, and culti vated by most assiduous and laborious study, that he was enabled when quite a young man to take a prominentposition at this Bar, and at a time too when from the eminent ability of Its members, it enjoyed the highest consideration of any Bar in the interior of the Commonwealth. The earliest recollections of the oldest thember of this Bar does not run back an terior to the time when Mr. Buchanan stood not at its head, and but few of the glorious associates of his day—witnesses of his early triumphs—remain with us. He was the worthy associate and competitor of the older and younger Hopkins, of the older and younger Montgomery, Eilmaker, Jenkine,Rogers, Slaymaker, Porter and others. But they hive all long since passed the dark shadow of the valley, and nothing remains of them but the recollection and tradition of their burning , eloquence and their personal virtues. But this Bar was not the only field in which Mr. Buchanan gleaned his rich harvests of forensic fame. He practiced his profession with eminent success cees in the neighboring counties of York, Cumberland Dauphin, Lebanon and Barks; and in the intellectual conflicts with the eminent men who flgnred in that day, at the head lof the Bar of:these counties, he won for himself a reputation for legal learning, integrity, ability and elo quence, of which any than might be proud. From the time of his admission to the Bar, until his retirement from actual practice, his career was a succession of pro. fessional triumphs. He rose step by stop from the lower to the higher Courts of the State and Nation, until lie finally ap peared at the Bar of the United States Sen ate, as one of the unmet in the prosecution of the articles of impeachment against -Judge Peek. This was a field for intellect• ual effort well calculated to gratify the loft iest aspiration for forensic clistinetionta field In which no honors could ho gained by any one, not'glfted by nature with a mind of the highest order, and matured and sharpened by assiduous cultivation. To appear be fore such a tribunal in the capacity , of a lawyer, Is is privilege enjoyed by but few. In contemplating curb a forum as was the American Sonata in 1830, what a crowd of emotions rush upon the mind I What glo rious assooiations cluster around the mem ories of the distinguished mon who then composed It Clay, Webster Calhoun, Ben ton, Livingston, Tazewell, White, Rayne, and many others, the ofilipring of whose brilliant Intellect/ rivalled in their lumin ous splendor the glories of the ancient Edo. guano°, and rendered the American Senate the rival of the Senate of Rome, in the palmy cloys of Cicero, of Varro, and of Hot , tensius. rho high qualities of mind, and vast mental resources displayed by , Mr. Buchanan__, in the trial of Judge Peck, be. fore this High Court, at pnee placed him in the front rank of the lawyers at the Ameri can Bar. But, it web not by contrast with inferior minds that he shone so conspicu ously in this trial. AR the counsel concerned, both for the .roseution.and defence, were men of emi nent ability, Associated with him in the prosecution were Henry. R. Storrs, of Now York, then considered the finest orator and readiest debater in the House of Represen tatives of the United States. Ceo. Ma Duffle, of South Carolina, whose brilliant mind and impassioned eloquence rendered him a most formidable competitor In any - field of Intellectual conflict. 'Ambrose Spencer, of New York, who, to a highly cultivated and vigorous mind, united, the expertende derived from a large arid varied propos In the Courts, and of 20 years set,. NUMBER 23 vice aa a Judge of the Supreme Court of that State, and whose luminous expoaltiona o the principles of the Common Law, as mod ified by the exigencies of our Republican institutions, made his name and the Ju dicial fame of his Slate known throughout the civilized world, wherever the literature and language of our country were under stood. And Charles Wickliffe, of Kentucky, then, as still at this day, holding a promi nent position as an eminent lawyer. For thegefenoe appeared the celebrated William Wirt, the most finished rhetorician that has ever appeared at the American Bar, learned and eloquent, zealous and powerful ; then still in the full vigor and maturity of ripe manhood, whohad measured strength with the strongest,—with Pinckney, with Em mett, with Webster, with Jeremiah Mason, and with Luther Martin, and who possessed that rare and happy combination of mental and moral endowments, which make the accomplished lawyer and successful advo cate. Associated with thin was Jonathan Meredith, of Baltimore, a distinguished lawyer of acute and logical mind, and power of analysis rarely equalled. Yet amid all this array of eminent men, amid the display of mental power and in tellectual resources, which such a combina tion of mind, must necessarily develop, and before this High Court, composed of a body of men, which for legal acquirements and mental attainments was never excelled if ever equalled by any deliberative assem bly in ancient or modern times, Mr. Bu chanan, at the early age of 40 years, deliv ered the closing argument of tho prosecu tion, which is universally acknowledged us one of the finest specimens of forensic elo• quence found in the annals of our country, and certainly equalling if not surpassing any effort made upon that trial by the array of eminent men who participated in it. It was then that his profossional reputation shone forth at the American Bar in its meridian lustre, and in the long period of time which has elapsed slum thou, its light has been reflected in hues of mellowed splendor upon this Bar which it so much adorned. But Mr. Buchanan was not alone indebted to his great powers of mind for tho professional distinction he acquired. His manners were genial and cordial. His friendships were warm and enduring. His integrity and love of truth were worthy of the imitation of us all, and in social life he was a high exemplification of polite conver sation, affability, decorum and dignity. A German author has delicately suhi duff there are two things supremely beautiful in this world, the starry sky above our heads, and the sense of duty In our hearts. This sense of duty appeared over present in tho heart of Mr. Buchanan, and moulded all his thoughts, actions, feelings, sentiments and affections. It was apparent in the close attention he paid to all the amenities and proprieties of social and professional life. - In his death this Bar has sustained an-Ir reparable loss. He was the venerable rep resentative of the memories of another age, and the bond of connection between the past and the present. Ho has been stricken down in the ripeness of ago and in the full ness of renown with honors clustering thickly around him. The grief we all feel for his loss is only assuaged and mitigated by the consoling reflection that in his last moments be seem ed to be radiant with the light of that glory, toward the supreme splendor of which, his soul aspired with Joyful anticipation. I move you, sir, that a Committee be ap pointed to take into consideration the loss this Bar has sustained in the death of this eminent man, and to express in befitting terms the esteem in which ho was hold by us all. Mr. Brown concluded his address by moving that a Committee of Thirteen be ap pointed to draft resolutions expressive of the sentiments of the Bar on the occasion of the death of Its oldest and most distinguish ed member, Hon. James Buchanan. Judge Long announced the following Committee : Wm. W. Brown, D. W. Patterson I. E. Hiester, Judge A. L. Hayes, 0. J. Dickey, Wm. Aug. Atlee, J. W. Fisher, A. Herr Smith, A. H. Hood, Emlen Franklin, Judge Libbart, H. M. North, Charles Denues. During the absence of the Committee, feeling and appropriatespeeches wore made by Hon. I. E. Mester and Wm. R. Wilson, Esq. Judge Long also related au instance illustrating the extraordinary skill dis played by Mr. Buchanan in the examine- don of witnesses. The Committee reported, through their Chairman, the following series of rosolu ions : WIIERRAz, It has pleased Devine Pro vidence to call from our midst James Buchanan, the oldest and most distinguish ed member of our bar, who by his high rank as a lawyer, by his eminence as a public man, by his colassal intellect, and by the possession of hll the sterling quali ties, which adorn the human character, has shed an imperishable lustre upon the ogal professions which entitles his memory, to the lasting affection of this Bar; therefore, Resolved, That in the Death of James Buchanan, the Lancaster Bar mourns the loss of its most eminent member and bright. est ornament. Resolved, That the Professional career of this eminent man was marked by all the high qualities of the mind and the heart, which ennoble human character, and adorn the legal profession. Resolved, 'that this Bar wear the usual badge of mourning for thirty days, and at tend his funeral In a body. Resolved, That the proceedings of this meeting be entered on tho minutes of the Court. Resolved, That a copy of the proceedings of this meeting be communicated to the family of the deceased, and that a Commit- tee of five be appointed by the Chair for that purpose. On motion the resolutions ware unani mously adopted. Judge Long announced the following committee to communicate the proceedings of this meeting to the relations of the de ceased: H. B. Swarr, S. H. Reynolds, R. W. Shenk, J. B. Livingston Jesse Landis. On moqpn the Bar adjourned to meet at 2i o'clock, to attend the funeral In a body. Meeting of City Councils In Reference to the Funeral of Ex-President Buchanan. A special meeting of. Select and Com mon Councils was held on Tuesday eve ning, in reference to the death of Ex-Presi dent Buchanan. In Common Council, John W.Jackson, Esq. ,offered the following resolutions, which were unanlmobsly adopted, Select Council concurring : Resolved. by the Select and Common Councils of Lancaster city, in special ses sion assembled, that we have learned with profound sorrow and regret of the death of our distinguished fellow-citizen lion. Jas. Buchanan, Ex-President of the United States. Resolved, That In the death of this great lawyer, eminent statesmen, anti pure, up right and honorable gentleman, Lancaster bus lost its most distinguished citizen. Resolved, That in him the poor of our city have lost a friend, who testified his regard for them in substantial charity, as our mu nicipal record for many years back will attest. Re&raved, That out of respect to the mem ory of the deceased, we will attend his fu neral In a body, and that the Mayor, Re corder, Aldermen and City officers genor ally be Invited to accompany nm. .Hcsoived, That Councils assemble in their respective Chambers on Thursday next at 2 o'clock, P. M., to proceed to the funeral of the deceased. In Select Council, As an appendix to these resolutions, Mr. Mishler offered the following ones, which were unanimously adopted, Common'Council concurring. Resolved, That the Mayor of the City Is sue his proclamation, requesting the sus pension of business on Thursday the 4th instant—the day of the funeral of the deceas• ed, between the bourn of 2 o'clock and 5 o'clock P. M. Resolved, That a Joint Committee of two from each body be appointed, to make the necessary arrangements tor the conveyance of the members of Select and Common Council to the funeral of Ex•Presideut James Buchanan on Thurstuy the 4th Inst. xeetinit or the school Boon) A special meeting of tbo Board of Direc tors Or lhe Public Helmoln MU, held On NVod nexclay ovoaing, in the Athonamin rooms —tho Common Council chamber, the room iniwhich this body holds Its regular moot ing, being oectiplod by Common Council-- In reference to the death of 1;z-Prosident Buchanan. Moms. Pyfor, Winton, Harris, Russol, McCormick, Levorgood, Roborts, Itookallold, McConotny, Jaokson, MoCullon, atiolturds, II orborgor, Wiley, leohor, nby, di ay =lcor, lelvann, Carpon tor, Brubaker, Bronumao, Baker and Bitola, wore present. The Prositiont, Mr. Winton, stated the object of the mooting, when Dr. Lovorgood oflerod dm following preamble and rosolu- Bona, which worn adopted WIIHREAN, It having pleased Divine Providence to romovo from among us our friend and follow-citizen, Hon, Samos Bil -1 ohanan, and in order tha t wo may suitably exprosa our high appreciation of his chnr ' outer, bo It, thorefore, Resolved, That this Board hue hoard wlth feelings of profound sorrow of the death of Hon, James Buchanan. Resolved, That In bowing in humble Nub mission to the wino!' Him who dooth all things well, we feel called upon to give ox• pression to tho islneoro regret we experi anal at the loss of ono so diatinguished for his integrity as a man, his attainments as a scholar, his virtues as a Christian, and his ability as a statesman. Resolved, That in the death of ex-Preel. dent Buchanan, this community has been deprived of a citizen whoa° exemplary character, generous impulses and Christian walk and conversation pro. eminently en title him to our respect and admiration. Resolved, That our warmest sympathies are tendered to the relative, of the deceased. Resolved, That the public schools of this citrbe (dosed on Thursday aftornoon, and that this Board attend the funeral in abody. On water' orldr. Jackson it was resolved that the teachers atoll the schools and the pupils of the High Schools be requested to RATZ OP ADVF.INSIIIIIIG. Mm= 3 i na r e o es;f ton flu se ,per yens for aloha& RzszESTATZ Anuortumers,loGentsa the drat, and 5 Gents fbr each sntmennest In sertion. GLNIERAL ADVISITIIIXO 7 cont. a line for the that, and 4 cents for each antnequinit Inner tlon. • Sego:rex. Mixon Insetted In Lead CoMandl 15 cents per line. • BrICIAL Narrows preesdant Manlailla and deaths ni t s cents por line tbr nrs an and C. c for every subliednant" i n sertion. LEOki. arm crra en Sorters— Executors' 4,80 Adintnistrators' notices, LSO Asslgneee' 3.50 Anditerle Other "Notices," ten lines, or leis. accompany the Directors to the funeral. On motion of Mr. Wilson, resolved that the Board assemble In their place of meet ing, at 31 o'clock on Thursday afternoon. On motion of Mr. Jackson, the officers of the Board were authorized to procure eon. veyanees for the use of the Directors attend ing the funeral. Remarks were made by Messrs. Wilson, Roberts,Carpenter and Brinton, all of whom bare testimony to tho high intellec tual and moral qualities of the deceased. A Last Interview with Ez-Preeldent En. ehanan. H. B. Swart, Esq., Mr. Buchanan's attorney, and Intimate personal friend, had a last interview with the deceased, at his special request, of which he after wards made the following notes, - which, ho has kindly consented to permit. us to' publish. Mr. Swarr reduced the matter to writing in Abe library of Mr. Buchanan, linmedintely after retiring from his cham ber, and be has no doubt that ho preserved the exact language used by the deceased on the occasion. They furnish a remarkable example of complete composure In the last trying hour, and show with what great dig. tiny Ex-President Buchanan closed a long and illustrious life: E=Cl=2 On the :kith day of May, 11168, tho late Ex- President Buchanan requested an interview with mu. 1 accordingly called upon him in his sick chamber, at Wheatland. After the usual salutation had passed, he stated that he was admonished that his earthly life was drawing near its end, and that ho had requested my presence, with the view of communicating to the as a friend, and us one of his Executors, a few matters ready to his funeral. lie directed his remains be placed In the lots ho had purchased that purpose in the " Woodward 11111 Ceriti4 story," without any pomp or parade, and that the religious services of the occasion , should be performed by his friend and neighbor, the Rev. John W. Nevin. knowing him to be n member of the Ma sonic Order, anti that It 111 usual for that or der to attend the funeral of its members, I asked him whether, if the Masonic and other Societies, with the City Authorities, desired to participate in the coremonles;,if it would be agreeable to hint to havo them Ito so? Ho said: "Certainly, if it is their pleasure, and they are not unwed to it by solicitation. I have a :high regard for the Masonic Order, al though fur years not n working member, and the Mayor and Councils of Lancaster, have, in my life time, manifested kindly re gards for me." Ito desired his lots In the Cemetery to be placed in good order, but wanted no large or expensive monument to be erected over his remains. Ile requested that there should boa simple, but substantial oblong tomb erected, the cap-stone to bo the finest and most durable marble, on which he special ly requested should be cut, in Roman let ters, the following inscription, and nothing more : LUCRE astir THE It/MAINS Or JAMES BUCHANAN, Mtn President. of the United States. !tore lu Franklin county. Pennsylvania, April ;Md. 1791. Died nt his residence at Wheatland. Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, On " With the day of my death, now NO During the conversation he said "The Principles of the Christian Religion were instilled Into my mind in my youth and from Rill have observed and experion• cod in the long life Providence has vouch safed to mel have only become more streng thened in my conviction of the divine char acter of the Saviour and the power of atone ment through his redeeming grace and mercy." As I was about taking my departure he inquired for several friends, and upon my informing him that I thought they were all well, I added the hope that he might again recover and live to see his friends of ten, as wall as to see the country again re stored to peace and prosperity and his public life vindicated. Ills reply was: "My dear friend, I have no fear of the future. Posterity will do me justice. I have always felt, aud still fool that I discharged every public duty Imposed upon mo conscienti ously, I have no regret for any public act of my life, and history will vindicate my memory from.overy unjust aspersion." (l'br further Local News ace 3d page.) paint LADIES, TARE PARTICULAR NOTICE TUE REAL VELI'AU FEMALE PILLS I These Pills, so celebrated many years ago In Parte, for the rellefof female irregularities, and afterwards for their criminal employment in the practice of abortion, are now offered for sale Ibr the first time In America. They have boon kept In comparative obscurity from the fact that the originator, Mr. Velpau, is a physi cian In Purls, of great wealth, and strict con scientious principles, and has withheld them from general use, lest they should be employed for unlawful purposes. In overcoming Female Obstructions, Ner vous and Spinal Affections, Pains in the Hook and Limbs, Fatigue on slight exertion, Palpi tation of the Heart, Hysterics, ac., and will °fleet a cure when all other Means have failed; and, although o powerful remedy, do not oon [eta calomel, antimony, or anything hurtful to the constitution. To married ladles and young girls who have never been regulated, they are peenliarly suit ed. They will,ln a short time, tiring on the monthly period with regularity. CAUTlON.—Married Ladles should never tako them when there Is any reason to believe themselves pregnant. Ladies can procure a box, sealed from the eyes of the carious, by enclosing one dollar and B postage stamps to M. W. MACOMBER, General Agent for United States and Qingdas, at Albany, N. Y. or to any authorized Agent. Dr. D. McCORMICK, Agent, Lancaster. Sold by all Druggists. Uy 24 lyw MEDICAL. DOCTOII N. 13. BItISBINE, Physician for Chronic Diseases, has a por manent Wilco at NO. 03 EAST KING BT., LANCASTER, PA., Where he has been engaged for some time put, In the successful treatment of OLD OBSTINATE DISEASES. The Doctor might present a volume of cer tificates and testimonials of cures, but tho most satisfactory evidence will be given the public In a trial of hie skill. Doctor Brisbine devotee exclusive attention to the class of diseases, in which his practice has boon uniformly successtul, effecting cures when they have baffled all syatoms of treat ment. CONSUMPTION, PARALYSIS, RHEUMATISM, BRONCHITIS DYSPEPSIA, ASTHMA, YIL AND DROPSY, DISEASES OF' THE LIVER l e i MI NOS, STOMACH, SKIN, AND OF TII,E NERVOUS SYSTEM, And all Woe° Diseasea peculiar to females through !Ile, are promptly and permanently cured when curalde, and reasonable charges made for medicines. . The Doctor' s principal remedial agents are selected carefully from the Pharmacoptela of the United States and Germany, and prepared and given out by him at his office, and com bine all the modern improvements of medi cine, among which are Inhalation. Atomisa tion, Electrical and Magnetic treatment, which are all used with auccoas in t.i.11111 late day of progress. The Doctor invites all who are afflicted, to call and consult him, free of charge, and give him and his msdialnee a le AITII FCI. TRIAL. Doctor Drlabine Inagnoaea by the urine, ono of the molt infallible tents of Diseases known, using Optical, Chemical and Microscopical toile, enabling him to employ a rational sci entific and curative treatment; and he will In no case give encouragement for the sake of teen. The Doctor la • graduate of Hterllng Medical College, and the old Darman &Beetle Hchool, wan Burgeon and Medical Director In the late War, baa had a largo experience, both In civil and military practice, and only dealres repu tation on hie own merits. OFFICE AND ItIf,BIDENCE: No. W East King street, a few doors above the Eastern Ho tel, and a little over a square - above the COME Sr Consultation tree and oonfidentlal, ape oinw 17 glutubing, e•4O tilting, &C. !lAN -Firma AND virdummul. JOHN BhIANKIL • No. 7 East King ot, with Increased facilities, are now pro pared toatimuil to nil order' with prompt:mu nod ilimputeli. Having none but the best works men employed,. all work will be finished In a superior ins ',nor. and with alkthe modern lin. provamont«. Copper Kettles and Woall Boilers, and all kinds of Copper Work for Breweries and Dip I,llleries attended to with promptuems. Having g an reatly enlarged hwit thin h. department, all orders be fort TIN ROOMS • FIPOUTING Attended to In any part of theclty and eounty, Furnaces, Heaters, Move., Ranges, and all modern improvements for heating Churches, Halls, Parlors, Houses, 40., always on hand, and will he put up In any part of tbo city or county, or their re air' attended to at Any time. JOHN DICANKIL • CO., No, 7 MANI , King street, LanosAter.ra. lan B•l!w I Y OO NCI VoLILN ATTEXTIONI YNow Is the Limo to got married. Yon can urnlsh your houses with IiTOYEtI, KETTLES I'ANII TINWARE, and all other necesaary ,ar Doles In our lino at the GOOD OLD LOW PIGOES. O theOLKS, now le the WAR/It you to buy foryoung Rake TIN. to look like Silver; BRAM and COPPER WARE to look like Gold. We have enlarged our buslnese, and CAM buyingary Inducement to theme who are now IIIIUHE SUERS. JOHN DEANER • 00., NO. 7 East /Clog stree t Lancaster,Fit. Jnn 84IW G. n H •DO D • FLOUR, GRAIN LAND FSOIIIIOE COMMISSION MaRORANT 18 LASALLE STREET, =moo, ILL. Pestles%lar attention pahl to the purchu• Of arlllll and Yrocluee for eastern orders. BEFIIRENCIEX Boehm" , at Koch , Bukha to Penna. Berabarga Gaga Whitlock a Wallace, Slom. /great". N. Y. City Natio= Bank, untrago, apr 1 aihW
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