WgftKttt# ptiHigtawr, PUBLISHED EVERT WEDNESDAY B 7 11. Q. SMITH ft CO. t H. G. Smith A. J. Steinman TERMS—Two Dollars per annum, payable In all cases In advaneo. Tub Lancaster Daily Intelligence is fubllsbed every evening, Sunday excepted, at 5 per Annum In advance. OFFlCE—Southwest corner of Centre Square. foctry. JLITTXE BBDWK HANDS. TlU'y drive home the'’cows from pasturo, Up and tnrough tbe long shady lane. Where the quails wlilhtie loud In thowLe.t- llelds , , • , That are yellow wlth<he ripening grain. They And In ths tljrtck' waving grasies, Where the scarlet-lipped strawberry grows They gather the oailies'’ snowdrops. And the llrst crimson blood of tho rose. 'I hoy loss tbe new hay In the meadow ; They gather tho elder b.oorn white; They And whore the dusky grapeH purple In the soft-tinted October llsht. They know where the apples haDg ripest, And aro sweeter than Italy wines; They know where the irult hangs me On tho long thorny blaciiberry vims. They gather the delicate sea-weeds, Ami build tiny -antles in the sand; They pick up Lhu beautiful sea-Kholls Fairy barks that Imvedrlftwl to lat/d. They wave from tbe tdl rocking tree-tops * Where the oriole’s bumiuock-ntsL swingK, r And at night-time are tolded In uiumb r lly a song that a fond mother sings. Tboso who toll bravely are strongest; The humble nod poor become great; And from those brown-bunded children shall grow mighty rulers of State. The pen of the author and statesman— The noble and wise of the land— Tho Bwo/d ami the chisel and palette, Shall be held in thelltUe brown hand. gjjUswUaimmu!.. After Jlany Days, “ You’ll spend Christmas with us?” John Mellish had said to his cousin; and Brian, remembering how very gloomy last Yule’tide had appeared as viewed from the solitude of his cham- bers, gladly accepted. If he had ac cepted the invitations that poured in he might have passed his days in hunt ing, shooting and diniug, but being of an ambitious turn, and having from his earliest boyhood heard it asserted that ho would “do something” and attain .some position above the ordinary herd, Brian had laid down a course of hard law-reading to which he had hitherto stuck honestly. Perhaps there was not much merit due to him yet; the plow aud furrow may have been as fascina ting as the outer world. He had run the gauntlet, it is true, of many of those temptations which moat easily beset a man, but ho had never been in love ; that trial remained, and wo shall see how he met it; of flirting he had done his share, possibly more than his share. Law is, we know, at best, dry work, re quiring counter excitement now and then; and Brian, being indolent In his amusements, took ihut which was at hand. But the women with whom he Uirted said he had no heart. It is written tiiat there is a tide in the a flairs of men. This particular tido had not as yet set in upon the even shore of Briau’s life, but the crisis was not far oil', and, as is generally the way, late.camo concealed by the most inno cent of disguises ; and so it was, that being in a fair way to become Q. C\, if nothing more, Brian, running against his cousin, John Mellish, in the Strand, was summoned to meet his fate at “The Cedars/’ where, a week before Christ mas, we iind our hero, sitting by the Squire’s young wife, but looking with all his eyes at the young face of his wife’s younger sister Kate, and trying •with all liis ears to catch the murmur of her low, soft voice. “I’ll marry that girl or none,” Brian said to himself, as he undressed the night after his arrival; and so he repeated still more passionately when, on the footman rousing him next morning, he became conscious that Kate's gmy eyes had beenshiningupon him in his dreams. “The hounds meet at the kennels, sir,” said the servant; “and master says you’d better be down soon, as he and Miss Kerr are going to ride to cover.” “ All right,”'quolh Brian; and hav ing luckily come provided with breeches and tops, it was not long before he had descended to the breakfast room, where he found Kate presiding, and the squire and a couple of strangers from the other side of the country busy in fortifying against the chauces of a long day. “ I’ve ordered the young chestnut for you, Brian,” said John. “ 1 waut him shown otT, and I am too heavy for the country we'll most likely cross to-day ; besides, you handle a horse better than any mau I know.” Then the conversa tion turned upon the merits of the horse snnd the prospect of having a run. For the first teu minutes after start ing Briau had his hands full, and not until tho chestnut quieted down had he a fair opportunity of looking at Kate, ,\vho, like nil pretty women who can really ride, looked better on horseback than anywhere else; and as Brian watched her brightening color, and lithe •figure swaying with every motion of her horse, the remembrance of his chambers came up like a nightmare. What had green leaves, laced with daw-laden gossamers, caroling Inrksand full-throated robhius to do with dusty folios and blue lined foolscap? Briau thought it over that night, while the picture was well still fresh iu his memory, and he thought it over every night, till, as the reader will see, the odds against the Q. C., became longer and longer. What the rilling, dancing and games liad left uudoue, tlie dressing up of the church aud house fur Christmas day completed,ami by the time the greenery was gathered and hung, Brian knew that “ the title ” had set in, aud that the full waves were beatingdown every ob stacle in their course. And yet he had not by word or look betrayed himself to Kate. He was much too deeply in earnest to risk askiug to soon. He knew it was life or death, so to speak; and so, though he haunted Kate’s steps, people did not see what the truth was, partly because of the mask ho'wore, and partly because of a very special reason which I shall ex plain presently. Christmas was over ; some guests left aud others came ; so that going into the drawing-room one evening, aud being rather late, Brian fouud every oue as sembled, enjoying that pleasautness of all times, thegloaming half-hour before dinner. Kate was sitting near the lire, and consequently in the lightest partof the room, and by her aide a stranger, not a young man, but old enough to be her father; so Brian stood aside, content to worship his diviuity at a distance. Presently she caught his eye, aud beck oning him to her, introduced him as General Amberly, who held out his hand,saying: “ I have just been telling Kate that your father and I were comrades in early days, and saw some hard times together withtheDukeof York. You have heard * him speak of Jessy Amberly?” And then turningto Kate, he wen ton," Jessy was my nick name when I joined; I believe in those days I was considered a pretty boy, and, coming fresh from my mother’s care, my ways und wants were dillereut from those of public schoolmen. This young gentleman’s father’s joined the same year, and being bigger and stronger at that time, stood by me in more than one row.” “ His father is dead, General,” whisp ered Kate, her soft eyes tilling. “Yes, my dear, I know; but the memory of a good man ueverdies. His father was one of the best of them.” So Brian’s heart was at rest, and what was left of it went straight to the out spoken old soldier whose old-fashioned courtesy and chivalrous attention to Kate seemed, in poor Brian’s eyes, the greatest charm he possessed. Two days after this, Brian’s visit ter minated. As bad luck would have it, Kate had a headache; the last day she neither appeared at dinner, nor yet in the evening. Brian, who made up his mind to speak..out, was down au hour before any one else next morning, but t Kate only showed herself when break fast was half over. So, as time waits for no one, he* had to take hi 9 departure minus the hoped-for interview, and there was nothing for it but to trust his fate to the post. So after reaching Lon don he wrote a manly straightforward letter, telling Kate the truth, and ask ing her to be his wife. In two days the reply came, and Brian’s fate was sealed. “ I am deeply grieved,” wrote Kate, | “more deeply than I can possibly tell! you. I thought you knew I was en- j gaged to General Amberly. John should | have told you, and I cannot understand ; how it was you never heard; the fact is so universally known amongst my friends, that I never doubted you kdew, and that will, I hope, enable you to for give me if my conduct has helped to pain you. I showed your letter to the General, and he bids' me say that he feels as I do. very, very sorry, and that aB. your father’s friend you must look •upon him as a true friend.” Over and over again Brian read his VOLUME 70 letter, quietly enough, too; but with the quiet that comes of despair. He saw it all; and there was not a shadow of re proach of blame in his heart against Kate; but the light seemed to go out of his life, and for three weeks Brian tried the old trick driving away his misery by a.life of riot. At the end of three w4eks nature gave way, and he was rav ing with brain fever. Dissipation did not suit him, and, luckily, the stop came before he was utterly lost. “You must London,” said the doctor, “ quiet is necessary—try a sea voyage.” “ I must see her first,” thoughtßrian, “and then I don’t care where I go : I shall see what I waut to know in her face.” So Boon as he could move about, Brian took the morning express, and hiring a gig at Fast Cross Station, drave over to “The Cedars.” Mr. Mellish was out; the mistress was with tbe baby, but would be down directly.” So Brian went into the morning room to wait, and presently, coming from thegarden, ho saw Kate. .She walked up to the house rather slowly ; and, hidden as he was behind the curtain, Brian could see without being seen, and his heart grew sick, even while a wild triumph seemed to fill his being; forhesaw that be had hoped, even while hedreaded, in Kate’s face. She stopped opposite the win dow, and looked at the dog cart, as if uncertain to whom it belonged, or whether to go on, thensuddenly a flash came over her, and she turned quickly down the avenue. Brian had come out of his hiding place, and leant against the window, he was desperale just then. When Kate was out of sight came the remembrance of where he was, and the certainty that if he staid he would have to face Mrs. Mellish. If tho thought of this interview had seemed difficult when he flrst sat down in the room, itbecame still more hard after seeing Kate, and at lastgrewso intolerable thatßrian turned and bolted, and the dog cart was half way to the station before Mrs. Mellish, who had waited for tho nurse to come up from her dinner, deposited the baby in that functionary’s arms, and having seen that her hair was straight, descend ing to speak with Brian, found the bird had flown. “What could bo mean?” she said afterwards, to Kate. And Kate, looking very pale, answered: “He wanted to see John, perhaps; won’t John go up aud see him ? ” And John, who was one of the most good-natured men in the world, went up to town next day, taking Mrs. Melliah with him, aud they, having done some shopping, proceeded to Brian’s cham bers, where they heard tho flat pro nounced by the doctor, and learned that Brian, having tired of reading law, meant to try a settler’s life in Australia. “ You’ll corno back to us some day, old fellow,” was the Squire's farewell. ‘ ‘ Ay, i n ten years J ’ll spend Christmas Day with you.” “ Well, that’s a bargain ; in ten years we’ll lay a knife aud fork for you.” Briau laughed bitterly, repeating, “In ten years,” aud Mrs. Mellish coming up to him, put her hands upon his should ers and kissed him, whispering “her blessing to Briau; you are a noble fel low.” She followed her husband down stairs, aud taking a cab, they drove to Euston Square. Kate was sitting by the library fire when. they reached home, and very wistfully the girl looked at her elder sister, who said, as she took of! her shawl: “ We have seen Brian, Kitty ; he is much better, and has been ordered a sea voyage, so he is going to see how Aus tralian air will suithim. lie has prom ised to spend Christmas with us ten years hence. llow did the baby get on without me?” Spring came; but tho General was not well, aud the marriage was put ofl' until Christmas, but when autumn came tiie old man was prostrate. He lingered so nearly two years, Kate nurs iog him, and to her he left his property. Once or twice during his illness he had asked for news of Brian, and by his re quest the squire had written to relations and friendb, but no tidings could be ob tained. 1 “He might have had the grace to write,” said John, when he told the General the result of his inquiries. But the latter shook his head. “Nay, John, he is right. He that putteth his baud to the plough and looketh back is not meet for the king dom of heaven. The poor boy has doue well; he will come back in ten years, and when he does, tell him I said so.” When the General’s welfare was over, and the old soldier had answered his muster roil, Kate remained altogether at The Ceders ; and, calling herself the old maid of the family, was looked up to with much respect by the rising generation of nephews and nieces. Nor was Kate’s money idle; many a wrinkled old face in the village grew anxious when gossip gave out that Miss Kate had another wooer ; but when the lover mounted and rode away, and Kate was still Miss Kate, the news spread like sunshine, and the smiles came back again, and Christmas after Christmas prought good cheer and full larders to every home in the little village, a softer glow to Kate’s cheek and a brighter smile to Kate’s lips. At last the tenth Christmas was near at hand. The' winter was a hard one. Upon the morning of Christmas eve Kate and the children went forth to gather greenery. Young Kthel now nearly as large as Kate herself. Dick upon theSheltle ; Tom and Harry armed with knives big enough to do serious damage to the holly trees. Amongst them stood Kate ; time, in taking away the lightness of girlhood, had perfected the maturer womanhood and very fair and loveable she looked, as with her bands full of gleaming hol ly, she stood in the wintry picture—a picture very unlike that of a Christmas on the other side of the world, where the seasons are turned upside down and Christmas day comes at midsummer. So thought a man that was leaning against the church-yard gate. He had been standing there for some time be- fore the children came down the ave nue, and moving a little so as to bring the branches of a tree between him and them, he still stood, until the thud of his horses’ feet on the snow made him turn, and as the squire trotted up, the men came face to face. John Mellish remed In his horse, and stared, stooped down iu hissaddle, and grew red as he cried : “ Not Briau !—and yet, by the Lord Harry, it is. Welcome home, old fel low !” As he spoke, the squire had got down from his horse, and was clasping Brian’s hands. “Why did’nt you write ?” “ I tell you, some day, old friend ; let bygones by bygones.” “ liight, there ; but see, lad, there’s something to mark the bygone,” and, John pointed to the group so busily gathering greenery, but which that in stant, catching sightof him, broke up— the boys running forward to meet him; leaving Kate and Ethel alone, up to whom John and his cousin went. “ I have brought the guest of the year Katie,” her brother said; “aguestcome from the other side of the world to keep a trust made ten years ago; before you were born, Hick, think of that;” and taking theSheltie’s rein, John ran down the load, calling to the other boys to bring his horse, Katie’s eyes had darkened as Brian came towards her,' and the holly fell from her hands, so that both were ready to be put in his. Beyond this double shake, the meetiDg was quiet enough to strike Ethel as a very cold way of re ceiving a friend, after being away ten years; but Ethel, you see, had a great deal to learn yet. They walked up to the house together, a*nd when Brian went to speak to Mr, Mellish, Kate dis appeared. What a dinner that was! Rurelysome of us have known or shared in the hap piness of welcoming one long absent to his home fireside; and, after many days of exile by sea and land, of fctrange ad ventures, perils andhair breadth escapes, have felt the heart grow full, as looking down the table past familiar faces, the old face, changed and yet the same, turns to us, and the eyes throw back their answer of affection and faith. So, at least, felt John Melish, and so too, felt one true heart not far from John. But it was not until later in the evening, when they were all standing about in the front room listening to the Carol singers, thatßrianfoundanopportunity of /Baying, in Katie’s ear: ”1 never loved a woman but you, IKate, and I’ve been faithful to my love through all these ten hopeless years. May I ask for my wages-? n Kate had no voice to make audible reply,butawarmhandetoleinto Brian’s, and he knew that after many days ho had his reward. UddJßtone, TIIE HISTORY AND ROMANCE OF THE LIGHTHOUSE. A report was current on the evening of Wednesday that the Eddystone Lighthouse had been swept away by the Btorm. The light-keeperß, it was added, had been drowned—a piece of unneces sary detail; since, if the news had been true that the waves had dashed dpwn the beautiful and proud structure of Smeaton, they would have made short work of the poor creatures living in the desolate sea-tower. “ Eddystone Light house down ?” people said, one to other; “could such an event happen? Is it not the ‘house built upon the rock,' against which the winds may roar and the waves beat till the stones wear out, but, till they wear out, no storm can lay it low?” Yet who knows the power of an Atlantic roller, driven by the fierce “ sou’-wester?” A New York steamship, the Pereire, put out from Havre a short time ago to cross the ocean for America. She was as powerful and handsome a ship as could float, and one of the quickest among ocean-going steamers. Yet, four days out, she ran her nose under a huge roller, piled up by the gale, and seven hundred tons of water, it is estimated, in one ugly gtay avalanche of furious spume aud swirl, broke upon her deck —crushing everything flat to the plank ing, breaking the backs of passengers, and with the blow of that one billow completely disabling the ship. It wa9 asked whether, perchance, some such vast mass of the sea, driving up with the storm, and falling in the full po\yer of its impulse upon the lighthouse, had crushed and annihilated it. In that case how sad the fate of the poor light trimmers, swept into death beyond all chance of escape, or even kuowledge of their doom! No need to tell us that the three men were gone, if the lighthouse was no more; their lives would be mere bub bles in the crash —one moment prolong ed, and the next extinguished in the rush of the fierce waters over the leveled tower. And then thoughts arose of the peril which would ensue to homeward bound vessels. Every captain coming up the channel is used to make out the fixed white light of the Eddystone, It is as sure to be there, with its friendly gleam, he thinkß, as the white cliffs and green meadows of “home” beyond. Unco inside the Lizard Point, the mas ter’s order is to “ keep a look-out for the Eddystone;” and when it is seen “home” is as good as reached. The pilot presently comes out, and the ship’s voyage is all but over. If the lighthouse were really gone, we might hear next that a great ship with her crew aud cargo had gone bodily upon the dread ful stone, at the very moment when the mariners were wondering why they did not make out the well-known beacon. It would have to be built up again, too, at a heavy cost, aud with an interval of long delay and danger ; for even with modern appliances, it could be nosmall task to rival Smeaton, and place another Pharos upon the desolate, perilous crag. All these gloomy thoughts were happily brought to an end by the welcome news that the lighthouse was as safe as ever. The thick weather of the tempest had obscured the gleam, and some Plymouth bound vessel, we suppose, failing to make it out in the sea drift, had come into port with the notion that it was gone. Yesterday morning, however, the light was made out well enough from the jbreakwater, and wc may trust that no gale, for many a long year to como, 'will shakedown one of the noblest works created by man. There seems no reason, indeed, why the Eddystone Lighthouse should not stand as long as the Pharos at Alexan dria, which lasted from 13. (J. 47U to A. D. 1303; almost, tint is to say, for two thousaud years. The famous Pharos, it j is true, had no such sea to withstand as that which rages many times in the year around the base and over the sides of Smeaton’s tower. But the channel beacon was built to fight the billows, and it has been the model of all the light towers in the modern world. The light houses of the Bell Rock, the Skerry Vore, Bishop’s Rock, the Brehat, Bar fleur, and many others, were fashioned after the example of this solid and per fect piece of construction. The waves themselves taught Smeaton how to build, for they let nothing but the firm est work remain on that lashed and lonely rock. Everybody knows the story of the place, how treacherous and deadly it was, lying under water right In the fair way of the channel, till AVinstanley, the mercer, first lighted the reef. Miss In gelow has told, in charming verse, how the good haberdasher, sad at the loss of more than one of his ventures upon the Eddystone, vowed that no more lives and vessels should be cast away upon that rock if he could help it. People laughed at him for his courage and hu manity; but he stuck to his purpose. After many failures he got his piles and cross-beams fixed upon the reef, and hoisted the first light over it. Thus many a life was preserved; but at length the channel billows rose and swept the timber-stuff all away in No vember, 1703. Next, Redyard tried his hand, and reared a strong tower, solid and well planned enough; but in this case fire did what water failed to effect, and the building was burned down. Smeaton was then called upon to set up some thing which neither water nor fire should be able to destroy ; and he went, as wise engineers should do, to nature. He saw how the bole of an oak tree holds up its gigantic mass against the fiercest winds, although they lay hold of its green and spreading head, and bend its vast limbs. Tho knitted roots and thick base keep the forest monarch firm ; and Smeaton resolved to make a sea-oak tree of his lighthouse. Broad at the base, and solid as the rock on which they stood, witli their stones bound together and inter-knitted like the fibre ofyhe tree, be laid his lower courses. Upon these he raised his hollow super-struc ture, of great thickness aud strength, but tapering upward inside the lines of his foundation. If anybody wishestoread a “romance of real life,” let him peruse Rmenton’s “Narrative of the buildingof Eddystone Lightnouse,” and he will see how man also learns to make “even the wildest waves obey him.” It is remarkable that the form selected by the renowned engineer for his sea-tower, as being na ture’s own idea of solidity in vertical erections, is nearly identical with the symbol used in the Egyptian hiero glyphics for “strength.” The priest represented that notion bv the figure of an obelisk almost precisely resembling the outlines of Smeaton’s light-house; and a hundred years of weather have proved that they and the engineer knew what they were about. The light burned for the first time upon the.new building in October, 1750 ; it burns dow, all safely; and it is likely to burn through many a stormy winter tocome. And if we on land have almost affec tion for these sturdy turrets erected in defiance of the strongest forces of na ture, to save life and property, and to light the mariner toward his home, wnat must sailors feel? A landsman can scarcely realise the blessing of these friendly lights. He knows that they save life. Firm as Smeaton’s tower is, the huge erection shudders in the shock of such a tempest as has lately raged; the winds howl like maddened devil’s j upon its head, while the big waves burst I upon its sides, and fling their sheets of j green and white right over the gallery j and lantern. Strange sights and sounds are the recreation of those hermits of the tower—the storm-tprn craft driving wildly past—the land birds dashing in the darkness against the glaBS of the light—and sea-wrack, mingled some times with dead bodies, flung against their water-stairs. It is not for alittlethatmen are found to live in the dismal solitude of such a place as the rooms under the Eddystone lamp. Two watchers used to keep this melancholy but useful garrison; but one died, and the other was forced to live with the corpßetill the relief arrived, lest he should he accused of murder. Since that time three have always oc cupied the house. Thesailorbestknows how well worth pains and cost the trou ble aud scrupulous attention are. Each sunset finds the patient keepers careful trimming the light and setting the Eolished reflectors,and not foramoment i that brilliant glare allowed to relax* The light-keeper can not see what help he gives; his business is to guard the bright monitory gleam. But, far LANCASTER PA. WEDNESDAY MORNING MARCH 17 1869 away from his rock, the blasted marl ner, anxious and in doubt, suddenly “makes out the Eddystone.” Some .keen eye forward or aloft catches the ,tiny spark over the dark waters, and then tne lead-line and the fearful watch are no more wanted. “So shines/’ as Shakspeare says, “a good deed in a naughty world.” A good and brave deed it was to plant the cross of help upon the ugly Channel-rock, as Win stanley first did, and as Bmeaton after him succeeded in doiug, with a work which many such gales U 3 this sou’- wester will leave safe and sound—the monument of man’s audacity, and, bet ter still, of man’s brotherhood. Old English Electioneering Campaigns and Candidates or Past Times—How They Managed a Canvass. The dare devil excitement, the enor mous stakes, the fun, the jollity, and the wit, all lent to an old election con test the glories of a field of battle, in combination with tbe humors of a coun try fair. “Has life,” said the Duke of Norfolk in ISU7, “anything better to show than a contested election for York shire which you win by one vote?” Sometimes elections were made the sub jects of bets, and it is on record that a Scotch Opposition nobleman once bet the Lord Advocate a hogshead of claret that he would returu both members for his county. He won his wager—but the expense would have stocked his cellars unto the third and fourth gener ation. When men approached the business in this spirit, we need not be surprised at any extravagance that we read of. In 3 SOT the contest in Yorkshire, between Mr. Wilberforce on tbe oneside and the united Milton and Lascelles interest on the other, is computed to cost half a million. In Wiltshire, the contests be tween the Astleyß of Everly—a family of fifteen thousand a year—and the Ben netts resulted in theruinorthe former, whose lands are still hopelessly mort gaged, aud whose house is let to the stranger. 'ln Northamptonshire, only the other day even, theDukeof Grafton spent eighty thousand pounds to secure the return of his son, Lord Frederick Fitzroy, and failed after all. But, in deed, there is hardly a county in Eng land without its tradition of some mem orable contest which has consigned some old family or another to penury and obscurity for generations. Nothing is commoner, when you pass by some fine old Elizabethan hall, and discover j on inquiry that the present occupier is j not of the family of its former owner, i than to hear that the ancient line who I still possesses it were ruined “by’lection ; days, times back.” Onesourco of immense expenditure in electioneering was the bringing up of freemeu (the “ honorary freemen ” de scribed in a former paper) to vote from all parts of the kingdom. The expense at Lincoln was often as much as twelve thousand pounds a candidate. Once, after a hard fight at Colchester, all the beaten candidates were bankrupts. But the two great Westminster elections of 1781 and ISOG aro the most memorable, if not the most costly, struggles upou record. Oil the first occasion the poll was kept open for forty days—tbe ut most period allowed by law. The can didates were Lord Hood, Mr. Fox, and Sir Cecil Wray ; the contest lying real ly between tbe last two. For twenty three days Fox %vas in a minorit}’, but at last the tremendous exertions of bis friends prevailed, and lie finally came in second by a majority of two hundred and forty-six. .As a specimen of the election squibs which were rife among our graudfuthers, we subjoin tbe follow ing, which was suug in all the public houses of Westminster, to the tune of “ Green Sleeves The gallant Lon! lIooJ, to his country Is door, H Is voter*, like Charley’s make excellent abeer, Rut who lia* been aids to taste tbe .m all l»rr Uf sir Cu-il Wray? Theu come every free, ev*ry geueroussoul, Thai loves a rlne girl und a full llowlng bowl, Come here m a body, and all of you poll ‘Gainst fair Cecil Wray. In vain ail the arts of the Court are let loose, The electors of Westminister never will choose To run down a Fox aud set up a Goatc Like blr Cecil Wray ? The canvassing on both sides was con ducted with extraordinary vigor. The Prince of Wales rode through the streets wearing Fox’s colors, and a sprig of laurel in his hat; the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire made a house-to-house j canvass, and bought a butcher with a | kiss. Some excellent stories are still told of this election. “ Sir,”- said -one voter to Charles Fox, who was pressing for his support, “I admire your abilities, but hang your principles.” “Sir,” re plied the wit, “I admire you sincerity, but hang your manners.” A saddler iu the Haymarket, when solicited by tbe same candidate, produced a halter, with which he said he should be happy to oblige him. Fox said : “ I return you my best thanks, but I should be sorry to deprive you of it, as I presume it must be a family piece.” Otherlady canvassers for Fox ou this occasion were tbe Count espes of Carlisle and Derby, and Ladies Beauchamp and Duncannon, who all wore' the fox's brush in their hats, and begged with all their charms from door to door. We do not hear that Cecil Wray had much of this kind of zeal exerted in his favor. But most of the eminent men of the day voted for him ; and Lord Kenyon, then Mr. Kenyon, whose house was just outside of the lib ertiesof Westminister,slept in hisstable a sufficient number.of nights to'qualify himself to vote. Iu 1806, Sheridan, Sir Samuel Hood, and Mr. Paul, who had once been a tailor, contested Westminster; and most, of course, w r as made of this latter uufortunate circumstance. His oppo nents got a squib out at once, begin ning— ‘•Tradesmen, bear a brother taller; ” ! . and they likewise paraded a banner- I bearer up and down the streets, carrying ; a loner pole with a cabbage on the top ol‘ it, the whole surmounted by a smooth- ; ing iron. He was followed by another, i who carried a boy dressed up like an j ape, and sitting on a tailor's board, sur rounded by the implements of his craft* This contest lasted fifteen days, when Hood was returned at the head of the poll and Sheridan second. There was a grand procession, in a carriage drawn by six horses with orange and blue rib bons. They stopped in St. James’ Place, wheu a glass of wine was handed to each member, in which he drank “ the King, God bless him," waving his glass over his head at the same time. But in spite of the hilarity, the mob rather com plained that the old ceremony of chair ing Covenant Garden had been dispensed with. The humors of an old canvass, or of the old hustings, are inexhaustible; and they live again in the pencil of Hogarth, perfectly true to life. His “election en tertainment" had its exact counterpart In the custom of the period—a waiter is brewing punch in a mash tub, a butch er is patching up a friend’s broken head, an attorney is falling backward from a stone flung in through the window; at the table an alderman with an oyster on his fork, is being bled by a surgeon; the par Son U gobbling venison; the member is being kissed by a woman, and a girl is stealing away his ring. Now, ifwelookflnto contemporary re cords, we see that these extraordinary scenes were.' literal reproductions of reality. \V/e(read in the history of Lei cester of ap entertainment given there, which, about the middle of the last century, 1“ wjis considered the most costly and/tbemoßt inebriating ’’ which the townspeople had ever known, A lord was at the head of the table, and peer and commoner alike were under neath it before all was over. At And over, again in the last century, in the ’bill sentin by an attorney to Sir Francis Lelaval, we actually find the following item: “To being thrown out of the George Inn ; to my leg being thereby broken, to surgeon’s bill, and loss of timeand business,flvehundred pounds.’ And, indeed, there is nothing in any one of Hogarth’s four pictures,for which chapter and verse may not be found in our county and municipal histories. Canvassing in those days was quite a fine art. The Marquis of Wharton, whom we have mentioned before, was an adept at this business; and a capital illustration of it is to be found in bis memoirs. “His Lordship," Bays the biographer, having recommended two candidates to the borough of Wycombe, about twenty years ago, some of the staunch Churchmen invited two of their own party to oppose him, and money was spent on both sides. A gentleman, a friend of one of the High Church candidates, was desired by him > to go down to the borough with him, > when he went to make his interest. — . This gentleman told me the story, and : that he was a witness of what passed l when they came to Wycombe. They : foundjmy Lord Wharton was got there b2fore them, and wasgoiDgup and down the town with his friends to secure votes. The gentleman, with hia two candidates and a few followers march* ed on one side of the street, my Lord Wharton’s candidates and a great company on the other. The gentleman, not being known to my lord or the townsmen, joined in with hia lordship’s men to make discoveries, and was by when my lord, entering a shoemaker’s shop, asked “where Lick was.” The good woman said her hus band was gone two or three miles off with some shoes, but his lordship need not fear him, she would “keep him tight.” “I know that,” says my lord, “but] want to see Lick and drink a glass with him.” Tho wife was very sorry Lick wasoutof the way. “Well,” says his lordship, “how does all thy children ? Molly is a brave girl by this time, warrant.” “Yes, I thank ye, : my ju£rd,” Ba >' B the* woman; and his lordship continued, “Is not Jemmy breechedyet?” Thissort of interference by peers in an election, rendered oppo sition hopeless. The “gentleman” slipped away to tell his friends that no one had a chance against a marquis with such a memory Cowper, the poet, too, has left us an interesting picture of a canvass some sixty years later. “We were sitting yesterday, after dinner,” says he, “ the two ladies and myself very composedly, and without the least apprehension of any such intrusion in our snug little parlor, one lady knitting, the other net ting, and the gentleman winding worsted, when, to our unspeakable sur prise, amobappeard before the wiudow; a smart rap was heard at the door; the boys hallooed, and the maid announced Mr. Grenville. Puss, a tame hare, was unfortunately let out of her box, so that the candidate with all his good friends at his his heels, was refused admittance at the grand entry, and referred to the back door as the only possible means of approach. Candidates are crea tures not very susceptible of affronts, and would rather, I suppose, climb in at a window than be absolutely exclud ed. In a minute the yard, the kitchen and the parlor were filled. Mr. Grenville advancing toward me, shook me by the hand with a degree of cordiality that was extremely seducing. As soon as he, and as many more as could find chairs, were seated, he began to open the intent of his visit. I told him I had no vote, for which he readily gave me credit. I assured him I had no influence, which was not equally in clined to believe, and the less, no doubt, because Mr. Ashburner, the draper, ad dressing himself to me at the moment, informed me that I had a great deal. Supposing that I could not be possessed of such a treasure without knowing it, I ventured to confirm my first assertion, by saying that if I had any I was utterly at a loss lo imagine where it could be, or wherein it consisted. This ended the conference. Mr, Grenville squeezed me by the hand again, kissed the ladies, and withdrew. He kissed, likewise, the maid in the kitchen, and seemed, upon the whole, a most loving, kissing, kind hearted gentleman. He is very young, genteel, and handsome. He has a pair of good eyes in his head, which not be ing sufficient, as it would seem, for the many nice and difficult purposes of a senator, he lias a third also, which he wore suspended from his button hole. The boys hallooed, the dogs barked, Puss scampered, the hero with his loDg train of obsequious followers withdrew. We made ourselves very merry with the ad venture, and in a short time settled into our former tranquility, never, probably, to be thus interrupted more.” An Adventure With ft Shark, Twenty j’ears ago the West Indian squadron consisted of sailing frigates and brigs, not of screw-vessels, us at present. In those days officers had to depend entirely upon theirseamanship; there w r as no furling sails and getting steam up if a head wind or calm turned up, or to go iujand out of difficult har bors ; audif the passage from one port to another Hid occupy a little more time than it does at present, yet there was the pleasure of “eating your way to windward,” and of seeing what your vessel really could do against a foul ■wind. At the time I allude to I was serving as a midshipmanonboardherMajesty’s sloop H , the finest of those magnifi cent “sixteen-gun brig 9” built by Sir Wm. Hymonds. I know no sensation more pleasant than being officer of the watch on board a brig of war, with every stitch of canvas set, the bowlines hauled, and as much wind as she can stagger under, while the little beauty knocks off her nine or ten knots, close hauled, gliding over the seas like a swan, sometimes throwing the spray as high as her maintop, or at others dip ping her sharp nose under an opposing wave, and sending the spray right aft to her quarter-deck, while she gives a shako to her stern for all the world as if she were a living creature, and enjoyed the ducking she gave the men forward. Jolly were the times we had in the H , visiting every hole and corner of the station ; sometimes down the Gulf of Mexico, at others cruising among the sand cays of the Bahama Channel, or knockingaboutthe beautiful Windward Islands. We were commanded by a very smart officer, who, by dint of con stant exercise, made us the smartest vessel on the station ; but, as is usually the case, we were very unfortunate in losing men overboard. Being a re markably good swimmer, I was fortu nate enough to rescue on several occa sions men, who, in performing their duties aloft, fell overboard, and it was when so occupied that I met with the following adventure. We had been cruising for some time for slavers on the south coast of Cuba ; but yellow fever haviug made its ap pearance, we left Saint lago de Cuba for Port Itoyal, Jamaica. That evening at sunset, after the usual hour’s exer cise in reefing and furling, all possible sail was made, with studding-sails alow and aloft, to a fine fresh breeze, the brig going a fair twelve knots. One of the maiutopmen had remained aloft, finish ing some job, and was on his way down over the cat-harping shrouds, when, by some means or other, he lost bis hold, and falling, struck the spare topsail yard, stowed in the main chains, and went overboard. I was standing on the stern gratings, and, seeing him fall, in stantly sang out, “Man overhoard!” and, throwing off my jacket, jumped over the quarter after him. The impetus of my leap took me some distance under water, but on regaining thesurface I saw him not far from me Just as he was going down. Exerting ail my power, a few strokes took metotheplace where he had disappeared, and I saw him slowly sink ing beneath me. In an instant I was down after him, and, clutching him by the hair, I brought him to the surface. By this time the brig' was nearly two miles distant from us, for although sail had been shortened, and the vessel brought to the wind as quickly as mor tal hands could do it, the rate at which she was going at the time of the acci dent of course bore her rapidly away from us. I found the poor fellow was quite insensible, and from the fact of hisrightarm hanging limp, conjectured that he had broken it in his fall, wnlch proved to be the case. Supporting him with one arm, I kept afloat with the other, and looking round, saw the life buoy floating not far from us ; so, tak ing a good grip of his hair, I swam to wards, and having succeeded in reach ing it, made my unfortunate shipmate fast to it by one of thebeckets, with his head well above water. By this time' he was coming to him self, and I knew that if they could see us from the brig, her boats would soon bo alongside us; but this did not ap pear to be the case, for the boats seemed pulling in all direction but the right one. Suddenly I saw, but a few yards from us, an object that in a moment filled me with unutterable dread—the back fin of a monster shark. Slowly the brute approached, until I could clearly distinguish that he was one of the largest of his kind. He evidently intended to reconnoitre, and when only about five yards from us, began to swim slowly in a circle, but gradually near ing, until I could clearly distinguish the horrid eyes that make the shark’s coun tenance what it is—the very embodi ment *of Satanic malignity. Half-con cealed between the bony brow, the little green eyes gleam with so peculiar an expression of hatred, such a concentra tion of fiendish malice, of quiet, calm, : settled villany, that no other counte nance that I have ever seen at all resembles. Knowing that the brute is as cowardly aB he is ferocious, I com menced to splash as much as I could with my feet. This had the desired effect, and with a lateral wave of his powerful tail, he ahot ofF, and for the moment disappeared. Again I looked round for the boats, but still observed no sign that we were seen. # Night was fast falling—there is no twilight in those latitudes—and I could see little or nohopeof escaping a horrid j death from, the jawß of the brute who, I full well knew, was not far off. Sud denly a cry of horror from my com panion, who had now quite regained his senses, drew my attention to the rapid approach of our dread enemy. This time he seemed determined not to be baulked, but cameßtraight on for ur. Again I threw myself on my back, and kicked aud splashed with all my strength, which had again the effect of alarming him, for t he went right under U 3, and again disappeared. Uttering a short but fervent ejaculation of thank fulness, I again turned my atten tion to the boats, aud beheld, with feelings no pen can express, that at last we had been made out, and that one of the cutters was fast pulling towards us. But even as she came our peril increased, for the shark was joined by another, and both kept cruising, but a few yards off, io a circle round us. My strength was rapidly leaving me, and I knew that did I once cease splash ing all would be over with us. My com panion was perfectly powerless. ’still I continued to kick and splash, still the voracious monsters continued their cir cular tract, sometimes diving and going under us, to re-appear on the other side ; but the cutter was fast coming up, and they, suspecting what was the matter, gave way with ail their hearts and souls. As she neared us, the boWmeu laid their oars in, and began to beat the water with their boat-hooks. This was the last I saw. Nature must have giv en out, for when I opened my eyes again, I was safe in my hammock on board the brig. A* good night’s rest restored me to myself, out though I have seen many a shark since, I can never look on one without feeliug my flesh creep, as it were, on my bones. Shall I Begin to Use Tobacco? JJY HENRY WARD BEECHER. A correspondent solicits our candid opinion, through the Ledger, respecting the use of Tobacco. "We shall give it willingly. We are not disposed to lake extreme ground on the Tobacco ques tion, although we entertain very posi tive convictions of the mischiefs which attend its use. As is usual in all dis cussions, two extremes are developed in the controversy respecting tobacco. One party regards the use of tobacco as an evil, an evil only, and that continu ally ; it holds that there is no such thing as moderation in evil; aud that the least use of the weed is pernicious, impairing the health and shortening the life. On the other hand, the advo cates of smoking and chewing take the bull by the horns, and undertake to demonstrate from tho latest grounds of physiology, that tobacco is au article whose use, in due moderation, econo mizes the nervous force, repairs cerebral wastes, and prolongs life. We shall not Lake partin the controversy. There are several grounds on which we would dissuade young men who have not formed the habit of using tobacco from ever learning to use it. 1. It is not necessary to health or to comfort. No one has a natural craving for it. On the contrary, it is utterly re pugnant to a natural appetite. It of fends the senses, and eyery vital organ. Men are obliged to train themselves into its use. The stomach, the heart, and tho brain all protest againstit, aud sub mit, at length, only as they would to any other medicinal agent. Thai it may become, after long use, necessary to comfort, and eveu to the health, is saying of it only what may be said of opium, of strychnine, and of arsenic, all of which are employed for the very shme purpose ,that tobacco is, viz., to produce excitement. But the need is secondary, artificial, and acquired. No man in health cares to use tobacco be cause he needs it. Tho habit begins in Suerile imitation. It is an apish trick. oys revolt against boyhood, and think they are men when old enough to copy the faults of an imperfect manhood. They are very apt to crawl into man hood through the dirty door of vice. It may be said, that though there is no natural craving for any particular drug, like tobacco, yet in a highly arti ficial state of society men crave stimu lants, and that tobacco, alcohol, etc., if used with rigid moderation, adapt them selves as artificial supplies to an'artifi cial want. That men living under tiie highly exciting conditions of modern society need certain stimulants, we are not dis posed to deny. But iu selecting, one should avoid those which are peculiarly liable to abuse, and employ those which experience has shown to be safe. Tea and cofiee are useful stimulants. They are not degenerating. Whatever use tobacco and wine are alleged to have in repairing nervous wastes, tea and coffee will serve in like manner, without the temptations to excess which go with these more violent drugs. 2. Tho habit of using tobacco leads men to vulgarity. Ido not by any means say that every user of tobacco is vulgar, or that every one - who betakes himself to it will, of necessity, become vulgar. But, as a matter of fact, users of tobacco grow indifferent to the feelings of others, and habitually keep before the eyes of their companions disgustful things, which true refinement would hide, or suppress. Even brute animals, moved by mere instinct, learn to hide the ex cretions of the body. The much-abused pig prefers cleanliness. Give him pure water and a clean bed, and he will keep himself clean. But, whatever rare and polite excep lions there may be, it is undeniable that the users of tobacco become indifferent to others’ feelings, and shock the tastes of men with scarcely the consciousness of offending. The chewer squirts his saliva asjif he were a liquid artillery man. The smoker carries in his hair, his raiment, and in his breath the fetid odor of tobacco. To some the fresh smoke of good tobacco is not disagreea ble. But the residual smell which ling ers in the pipe, on the clothes, oron the person, is disgustful to every one. If one will use tobacco, he should at least thereafter carefully purge and purify 'himself. But I have observed that per sons who in all other thiDgs have gen tlemanly instincts, in the use of tobacco seem to lose delicacy and generosity. I see a great degree of selfishness, and of indifference to others’ comfort and feel- ings, in the use of this article. Ido not say that tobacco brutifies men’s feelings. But I have noticed that users of tobacco are, as a class, less careful of offending the tastes of others then are their fellows of the same rank in life who do not use it. 3. Tobacco has, upon some constitu tions, a most deleterious effect, even when used moderately. No one can beforehand tell whether he will be its victim. That it acts upon many as au infidious nerve poison, leading to dys pepsia,to headaches, to various derange ments of the nervous system, seems be yond a doubt. Thousands of persons, after long suffering, have found them-' selves restored to health by simply dis continuing tho use of tobacco. That, in such cases, there is an affinity between drinking and smoking, can hardly be doubted. That, in some cases, it leads to intemperance, seems clear. Why should one incur even the re motest danger, by learning to use a dis agreeable narcotic agent that a healthy man has no sort of need of? 4. There is an argument of personal liberty and of personal purity that has always seemed to us should be sufficient with a generous and honorable nature. The habit of using tobacco, once formed, is well-nigh invincible. Now, no man of self-respect, not already entangled, should choose to go into bondage, to become a slave to matter of sensuous enjoyment. There is, also, a reason of personal cleanliness. No man who habitually uses tobacco but must be offensive to delicate tastes. It is a matter of proper pride for one to be conscious that his personis pure, his skin sound, his mouth clean, his eye cool and clear. If one is unwilling to wear a filthy coat, how much less should he be willing to carry a filthy person? Now and then a tobacco user may by great care hide the effects of it on his person. But, in far the greater number of instances, even among well-bred people, one can at once see or smell, or both, the signs and effects of the noisome weed. We hardly hope to influence any on whom the habit is fixed. We do hope to dissuade some young men from form ing a habitwhich is utterly unnecessary to health and comfort, which in most instances is unwholesome, which sacri fices personal cleanliness, addicts one ' invincibly to a sensuous appetite, and which changes delicacy and kindness to a selfish indifference to the comfort and convenience of all who are brought In contact with us. FEABFCLfiCSKE IN CHICAGO. Appalling Disaster to Firomeo, From, the Chicago Tribune, Saturday. About 7 o’clock, the ominous alarm bell —on this occasiou afuneral bell, tolling the of four brave men—rang out, and its tones were borne far and wido cn the breeze. It marked 275, and to!d the public that fire had broken out somewhere near the corner of West Madison and Canal streets.- Thence the firemen llew, and found the building Nos. 41, 43, 45 and 47 Canal street burning, aud the smoke issu ing from tbo windows and doors. The en gines went to work with a will, and soon had several steady streams ou the building. This continued about haifan hour, when the imoke rolled out thicker, blacker and faster than before. Matters were growing serious, and tho bell Lolled again for rein forcements, which soon airived on tho ground, and went to work. In the interim the fire was making steady progress, smouldering quietly aud preparing thedry materials inside for- the flames when enough air could get to it to make it blaze. SCENE OP THE CONFLAGRATION, The buildiDg is comparatively new, hav ing boen erected about a year ago, by the owners, Messrs. Wisdom tfc Lee, sash and blind manufacturers, who occupied Nos, 45 and 47. It was a tbree-story brick building, haviug 04 feet frontage on Canal street, and a deptn of 150 feet. In front were twarows of windows—twelve iu each row of tho sec ond and third stories. Tho lower portion was portioned off into stores. On the north and south sides there were only two or three windows, barred by iron abutters. Thoro was much inflammable material in side, such as oils, besides a large quantity of lumber and other combustibles. TIIK SECOND ALARM. Anyway it was burning slowly, but surely, until 7 o'clock, when Jto all appear ances it was subdued, ana rnajiy of the spectators went home, out of the cold. — Shortly after* however, tho smoke came out in thick, rolling volumes, proof that soon it would burst into flames. The floors between the ground and roof were being gradually consumed, and as events too sadly proved, with fatal effect. When tho second alarm rung the men were working with a will, but with little effect. THE DISASTER. Owing to the combustible nature of the material stored in the building, the lire re ceived a quick impetus, and when the sec ond installment of engines reached tho scene, the flames rugdd fast and furious in the rear portion of the building. Tho long and high sides of the structure presented almost a blank wall, with but one or two apertures, aud the only accessjto the flames was at the rear, nr through the roof. Tho first named advantage was quickly taken possession of, and as soon as the Btrong ladders of Book and Ladder Company No, 1 could ho got in position, a number of firemen nimbly mounted the flat roof. The laddors had been placed at the oust end, and a strong wind, amounting almost to a gab l , coining Irom the west, drovo tho heat and smoke directly into tbeir faces. Com pletely blinded and suffocated by the smoke, tho bravo firomen steadily groped their way toward the flames, and when they had traversed about half the length of the building, orders came to CUT THE ROOF. The task was one of imminent peril, and the men fully appreciated the danger that lurked beneath and threatened them on overy side. But determined to do their duty, they set bravely at work at the al most iutile tusk of penetrating the hard crust of the roof. They had been at their task only a few moments, however, when the firo broke out in their immediate vicini ty, and the heat and smoko became terri ble. Peter Morrelta was heard to say: “This is awful; I can’t go on ; I can’t breutho,” and with that be drew back near the edge of the building. Othorsin advance were heard to make exclamations of simi lar import, and all were about to retreat from their untenable position, when they felt the roof give way beneath their foot, and in another moment it sunk into the burning, eeothing ciater boneath. Simul taneously A TERRIBLE CRY OP DESPAIR And anguish rose high above the loar and tumult of the conflagration, coming alike lrom the spectators, who stood appalled witnesses to tho calamity, and the victims —Charles Wiltt, George Burgb, Thomas O'Brien and Peter Morretta—who held po sitions near the centre, and, falling through with the roof, were never more seen. Tbeir cries of anguish were heard by tbeir fel low-firemen equally imperilled, but they were already out of sight and beyond the help of human aid. SEVEN ESCAPE. Seven others barely escaped with their lives. Charles Miller, a member of the Pioueer Hook and Ladder Company, stood near the southern wall, and when he felt the roof sinking beneath his feet, he sprang to the uppermost edge, and losing ;his balance, went over. Fortunately, an alarm telegraph wire lay across the building at that point, and clutching the frail and thin thread with his hands and teeth, succeeded in staying his downward course. Ho also managed with one hand to clutch the edge of the buildiDg, and thus, SKSTENDED BETWEEN HEAVEN AND EARTH he remained nearly five minutes, when a ladder was raised for his rescue. The wire proving harder than his teeth, he mourns the loss of two molars, which, with some severe cuts in the palms of his hands, made the sum total of his injuries. Lawrence Walters, second assistant engineer; John Shank, third assistant, and John Green, Peter Nye, Thomas Maxwell and Mat Mas sey, all went down with the roof, but by quickly climbiDg up tho sides, by tho ho»o and other means, succeeded in gaining the top of the wall and were rescued by means of ladders. All of the men had miraculous escapes, and all bore away some mark high ly suggestive of tho proximity of death. Thomas Maxwell came so near the fire that his coat tails were considerably burned, and the hair was scorched from his head. TO TIIE RESCUE. As tho men sat on the walls, anxiously waiting for tho rescue, the excitement be low was inteuse. Thousands of men, at-, traded by tUeconflacralion, with terror and alarm depicted in their countenances, swayed to and fro, giving vent to all man ner of exclamations, and wildly shouting for ropes, ladders, and every other conceiv able agency of rescue. Hundreds of men rushed to the ladders, and some pulliugthis way and others that way, instead of assist ing, really retarded the work of the firo men. Several times, when tho ladders had nearly been placed in position, the move ment of so many agitated bunds would send them all out of place, to tho no little anxiety of the unfortunates who sat invol untary spectators on the walls, and'knew not but tho next moment would bo their last. Fully ten ihißutes elapsed, and to those most interested it seemed an hour, before the last man reached tei'ra Jirma, The instant tbw root went down several members of the hook and ladder company rushed to the side of the building, in the immediate vicinity where the men had dis appeared, und breaking through the shut ters of the single windows that afforded light to that portion of tho bulling, called through the aperture to the men in tho ruins. Several of them aver that they heard distinct cries of “ Hero,” “ hero, “ Help,” " help’” bat in an instant all was husho I, and the flames leaped furiously in the di rection from whence tbo voicos had pro ceeded. As quickly as possible several streams were let into tills opening, with tho hope, if not of rescue, at least of preserving the bodies, and although the etlort was persevered in all through the night, there is littlo hope of finding even the ehurred remains. The fire was terrible in its fero cious intensity, and burned for hours, a great red furnace, at the very spot where the men went down. A TERRIBLE LIOIIT. Few fires ever witnessed in this city of fires and disasters presented a more terri fying aspect than this, and as tho nows of the great calamity spread, and thousands became aware that four bumau beings, or rather bodies, were being devoured by the flames, the sight became additionally ap palling. The interior of tho building being one mass of lumber, tbe flames proved en tirely beyond the control of the department and a dozen or more streams incessantly poured upon it had apparenllynot the least etlect. As the fire increased the gale ap peared to increase, and the flames, shooting tifty feet above the building, were dashed out In ungovernable fury. Now tho entire structure was enveloped in a dense black volume of smoke, and iu another momem. as the wind rose higher and higher, tbe pall would be lifted and reveal the building a mass of light red flame. But for the Btron uous efforts of tbe department a large and valuable portion of the west division would no doubt have been laid in ashes. There is always a bright side to overy picture, and so an element, very much deprecated foritaelf, proved the one saving grace. To wards evening a nasty, drizzling snow fell down for about an hour, covering tho earth and the roofs of houses with a/thin white covering, and although the storm itself was disagreeable, it was tbe means of saving the surrounding property. Cinders were thrown a distance of half a mile, aud on the neighboring buildings fell in huge quanti ties, bntthe moment they struck the cover ing of snow tbeir bright rod would change to blackness, and their venom would be lost in a hiss. A clever Yankee farmer, being much troubled with rats, and being determined to get rid of them, tried every possible plan, but without success. At last he got a lot of rats and shut them up in a single cage; they devoured one anotner till only a single one was left. He then turned this one loose when, excited with the blood of his fellow rats, and haying become a genuine canni j bal, it killed and ate all tho rats it could 1 find on the premises. NUMBER 11 Tho Spring Openings. Tho time for the Spring openings having arrived, we hasten to give our readers in formation concerning the styles and fabrics to be worn during tho Spring and Summer. If there are any who have supposed that the new season would bring with it greater simolicity of costume, or that it would In the least degree unite fashion and economy, they will bo grievously disappointed. THE NEW MATERIAL FOR t SPRINO WEAR are rich and costly, while the models for walking suits, for dinner costume, or for evening toilette, are as complicated as ever. The materials which will be most worn are crepo du chone. gaze do soio—silk gauze— the finest grenadines, goat’s hair, or poilo du cbevre, satinteen and pongee. Silks in solid colors, or fancy silks with narrow stripes in rich colors will be in vogue, Bis tuark brown and Metlernich green, with various other favorite colors have had their day. New shades have made their appear ance; among the prettiest are the Hartnell green and the new shade of brown. Stripes will bo more worn than ever; ; handsome patterns of polie du chevre, have a wide satin stripe composed of bright colors, on a white ground. Tho new goods called Satinteen, wiiicb comes both striped and figured bears some resemblance to foulard silk, though ’lis u much richer fabric. Striped and figured pique, and striped and plain percales—the latter ex tremely pretty—are among tho new Impor tations. Stripes also prevail in the cam brics, although some pretty patterns are figured. Most of the new Spring and Sum mer goods come in patterns, which are manufactured especially for suits. L NEW-STYLES FOR SUITS, FOR DINNER AND EVENING TOILETTE At Madame Duval's on Broadway, w'O had an opportunity lor inspecting the new styles, which are soon to delight the beauti ful eyes of the boau tnonde. A spring walking suit of blue silk, has a deep llounco scolloped and pinked. The Flounce is headed by a narrow rutile, which is trimmed with two rows of straw colored satiu through tho contra of euuji row runs a narrow’ piping of blue silk ; tho same style of trimming forms two rows of large scollops abovo tho flounce. A rovero tunic is finished at the bottom, with a wide row of plaits, which running one way, form a rufilo at the top and bottom, which is trimmed to match the ruflle on the llounco. Tho high corsago has bretelles trimmod in the same stylo. The cuff on the plain sleeve is I‘ormod by three plaited rubles. A new spring walking suit of black silk, has a purple silk llounco put on in squares, : headed with crotchet gimp. The tunic torms an apron which is trimmed with gimp and purple fringo; tho two deep points on tho side are caught tip with bows, and trimmed with gimp; the buck breadth, which is rouud and deep, is trimmed to correspond with tho front. Tho basque w'alst is scolloped in front, and pointed in tho back. Two carric capos complete the costumo. A very stylish walking suit has three skirts, Tho lower one hns a llounco of tun colorod silk, trimmed with a ibid of green satin, with a piping of tun-colored silk run ning through the centre of tho fold. An ororskirt ot Jlartnell green silic, descends in deep points, which are scolloped—the scollops being headed by rows of tho con trasting silk. Over this Is a panior tunlcof tan-color,trimmed with rows of green satin, with a piping of tan through the centre. Tho tunic is looped in the back with Grecian cross bows. Tho waists und sleeves are of green silk, with tan-colored bretelles, scol loped and trimmed with green. A lovely evening dross, inude after a new model, is of white illusion. Tho long full train is composed of wide puffs; tho pulls form scollops—definod by a pink satin rucho —upon a puff nine inches in width which trims the bottom ; this is also edged with a satin ruche. Pink satin rolls, with bows at equal distances, divide the puffs. A double ceinture tunic of pink silk which is worn with this charming dress, is scolloped at the top, and trimmed with rich fringo at tho bottom. Tho low corsnge of pink silk has brotellos which aro finished with rolls of whito satiu and pink fringe. Tho sleeve is a more bund of pink silk*, trimmed to correspond. An evening dress, which is almost 100 elabornto for description, has a trained un derskirt of puffed tulle. Bolls of violet satin dlvido the puffs. A violet Kalin tunic, and a separata panior of tho samo material and color, form tho overskirts. Tho tunic has fronts of puffed yellow satin. Tho yel low satin apron is trimmed wMi rich lace, and ndorned with full blown pennies. Pan sies at equal distances divide i-V puff of the trained skirt. Tluf low corsn;o is of violet satin, trimmod with an exquisite lncu berthe. .SEPARATE TU.NICH. Separate tunics, mado to wear with a va riety of dresses, nro among tho novelties. One called tho pointed tunic has leaf-shaped tabs. Tho model which wo saw Is made of tho new shado of brown ; green satin bows run up to the bolt, detlnlng tho leaves. Tho tunio la pericbole, which takes the place of of the panier, has a pointed apron, with sash ends at each side. At the back tho tunic is round and deep. Tho la perichole is pretty, made of black silk. The Watteau talma is among tho spring styles. It is trimmed with a narrow llounee, beaded with satin puffing. Ono plait falls from the shoulder ; two on tho back fall iu undulations below the rest of the mantle. A court cloak of tho reign of Francis I. is made of black silk. The back has tbo Wat teau plait, giving it tbo appearance of a talma at tbo back. At the rooms of another celebrated mod iste, whose opening will take place during the week, we saw an extremely pretty dress of white chambery. The first skirt is trimmed with three narrow flounces bound with pink chambery. Tho second skirt which has ono flounce, is looped at each side with sashes. The waist is cut pompa dour;—a pufliing of white chambery, bor dered on each side by a narrow rullle bound with pink, forms the trimming. Tho sasli is composed of short tabs, each one trimmed with a rullle. A new full dress dinner toilette is of green silk of the new color. The long trained skirt lias a plaited llounee, whicii is edged top and bottom with a flut ing of green satin, finished with black thread lace. A second skirt, which is trimmed in the same manner, Is caught up at tho back with wide sashes, which uru also rutiled. The low corsage is open to tho waist, and is furnished with a fluting of green satin, edged with lace. Many of tho dresses on exhibition are composed of two kinds of silk, and when the corsage is high, either brelellos or round capes, are among tho prevailing modes, though tbo pompador uud tho enr sago opening to the wulst will bo among the favorite styles. Htripes, which aro to be very much worn, will be cut on tbo bias, for flounces, or for other stylos of trimming. BONNETS, It is too early to speak with any certainty of bonnets; though wo are indebted to Mu • damePetigny-Mourisse, in Ninth street, for some hints on this important subject. We are are told that bonnets will probably bo stnuller. That they will bo covered with flowers; either n bouquet of roses with a trailing stem, or else a variety of flowers growing upon ono stem. The long trail or stem will fall over tbo chignon. These garlands, which are universally bought by the trade,are generally composed of sprigs of wheat, wild flowers, and the different varieties offern leaves. We also iearn that some new shapes between the round hut and the bonnet will bo introduc ed : that the round hat will be smaller, and that the crown, ns a rule, will be lower. MANTLES. We are indebted to u lashionable estnb- lishment on Broadway, for tho latest stylos in Spring mantles. A black silk mantle has mantilla fronts, trimmed with three rows of box plaiting, edged with guipure lace. The back forms n cape, whic-i Is trimmed in the same manner. The tabs are confined by a bolt, with a double bow at the back, from which descend wide sash ends. Another of black gros grain silk has a sacque Iront and a basque back. The bot tom is finished with a bias flounce bound with black satin. A cape trimmed in the same manner descends to tho waist. This cape is open at tbo buck, tho opening being covered by a hood. Loops and wide sash ends fall from tho waist. A few Watteau mantles nroon exhibition; these aro without sleeves. The round cape, descending below tho waist and confined by a belt, is one of tho prevailing styles. The combination of mantilla and capo is prettier. —A’. Y. Exi>tc&3. An Imllnu Episode. Mr. William Thompson, whoso hair breadth escape from the Cheyenne Indiana during their murderous stoppage and plun deringpf u train on the Union Pacific ruii road, hear Plum Creek Stution, N. T., a year ago last August, a memorable event in the utrocities of the plains, is now in this city. Mr. T. has tho celebrity of being the only artistically sculped man living. He carries his scalp, lost by its savage captor in bis eager greed for the booiy of the wrecked train, and carefully tanned by Dr. Peck, of North Platte, in his pocket. His denuded head, horribly indented by a tomahawk stroke, contorted with wrinkles and scar**, is a sorry sight. He Is disabled, also, by a rifle bull in the arm, and an ugly arrow furrow in tho neck. Mr. I'.’e firm nerve and self-control enabling him to lie motionless and mule, though perfectly con scious, under the infliction of the internal band, saved him from the worse fate of his comrade butchered a few feet from his side. He lay all night watching the havoc around the train, and dragged himself, bliuded and bleeding, to the section-house, some miles remote, in tho morning, stumbling over too charred remnants of the engineer and fire man on the wuy. After remaining fifteen months under hospital treatment, he is en deavoring to reach his home in Yorkshire, England.—C/ucayo Republican , 4£/t. A gentleman who recently visited Uanes boro, Minnesota, says there.was not a sin gle house in the place last July. Now a $35,000 hotel is being built, the publio school numbers ninety-five scholars, and the low est figure for a business lot is $l,OOO. 'BATE OF ADVERTISING. Business AnvxKTiapoarra, 912 : a year per qnare of ten lines; 98 per year for.each ad ditional square, - - RxalEs*atb Advertising, lOoenta.a line for tba(irsi,ahd&eenta for each subsequent in sertion. General Advertising! cents a line for U>e &m. and 4 coots for each subioquent Inser tion. Special Notices Insortod in Local Colnmu 15 cents per lino. Special Notices preceding marriages and deaths, 10 cents per line for first Insertion and 6 oonts for every subsequent insertion; Legal and oth k b notices—* Executors’ notices 2.50 Administrators 1 notices, 250 Assignees' notices,.. 2.60 Auditors’ notices, .. 2.00 Other “Notices," ten lines, or less, Z three times 1.50 New* Hems. Tom Thumb is giving exhibitions in Min nesota. The heirs of Noah Webster receive $25,- 00J annually from tho sale of bis dictionary. The Popo bas refused to ex-Queen Mary of Naples a divorce from her husband. The latest thing in New York is a “Velo cipede reception." The Sioux Indians calls Gen. Sherman “General Walk n-heap." ,Tbo stockholders of the Now York bunk aro said to pay $2,000,000 in taxes. Tho British and Foreign Bible Society is to send 1,000,000 New Testaments to Spain. All show-cases ami protruding signs on Broadway, Now York, are to be removed. No first-class hotel in New York will re ceivoTx colored guest. Ilov, Mr. Beeohor denies having been called to a Montreal church. York had seventy-four fires laid month, involving a loss of $400,-175. Louisiana purposes to license gambliug houses at $5,000 each. An lowa pnper says the roads in that State are so bad that tho birds won't fly over them. It is reported that Gen. Schofield will be assigned to the command of \ho Pacific coast. » T .^ o i.^^ ch * gan legislature is considering a bill to prevent the shooting of any person “iu sport." T he North Carolina Land Company lately sold 20,000 acres of laud (or $llO,OOO to a Ger man colony. The Boston shoe and leather dealers con template forming a board of trade. Tno recent census of Salt Lake City shows a population ol .>£,ooo Murinons and 8 000 Gentiles. Concord, N. IT., has had SJduys uninter rupted sleighing up to last Monday. Near ly six feet has fallen this winter, A new umbrella is patented. '* Though of of gingham, ills water-proof, and it 1* im possible for the stoutest gale to turn It. Dexter Jr., a Jfulnmazoo colt of great promise, has been bought for SJ,OOO, by tho owner of Melton, iu Detroit. Russia has just oxiled,about forty treas ury officials to .Siberia for robbing the gov ernment. Boston is In luck. Over (52,000 boxes of oranges hayo arrived thoro duriug tho past week. I>r. Tint, Archbishop of Canterbury, is said to bo tho first Scotchman ovorelovulod to tho Primaoy of ull England. A Vermont paper Hays that the annual product of maple sugar in that a Into is 7 - 000,000 of pounds. The amount of monoy invested In Luke Superior copper minus iseatiinuled atBl(H).- 000,000. 4 In order to dispose of polygamy at short notice it is proposed to give thy right or.suf irage to the women of Utah. Two brothers, aged 00 and <>s, and their servant, aged 115, all died last week at Ja muieu, N. V. Clms. A. Williams, a poMoffieo clerk in New York, has been urrestod, charged with stealing lrom tho mails. I arms und Irautu ofiand, near Fredericks burg, \ a., continue to bo sold, principally to persons from the North. John Griflln has been convicted oT tho murder of Prickelt, of Hamilton, Ohio, and sentenced to bo bunged on the H7th of May All the firemen ol Chicago are insured in tlio Travellers’ Company of Hartford for $2,0U0 each by the city merchants. Texas has agreed to pay $lOO, and to give forty acres ot land to a company for every immigrant it brings into tho Stuto- Navnjoo Indians, assisted by vagabond whites, aro depredating in Southorn Color ado, aud threaten Iho aottlomenLs of South ern Utah. The Boston Transcript snjH Judge Hoar would now be Governor of Massachusetts hud ho oonauutod to bocotnu u candidate lust autumn. The-quoslion now agitating tho literary world is: Wlmt will Charles Bead do with the six cents Just awarded to him by the court In Now York. Bishop Whipple writes to tho Minnoapo lis Tribune that tho officers at Fort Wads worth iiro living in very iutimato relations with Indian maidens. At a special term of tho Bourbon (Ken tucky) Circuit Court lust Saturday decrees wore granted for the sale of real estate to tho amount of over $lOO,OOO. Tho Wisconsin House of-TtoprOHentativos has pussod an act to repeal tho law enaclod by tho preceding Legislature to disfruuebiso deserters. 'I beMalne Legislature rejected an amend ment lo tbo capital punishment bill provid ing for tho chloroforming of criminals bo fofo execution. Two thousand cltizons of Indianapolis signed tho pledge at a great temperance meeting on Now Year's Day. Elovon still keep it. A society for tho protection of babies, in Paris, gives medals to the most careful nurses and to mothers who suckle their own infants. Thirteen stores are kept by the sixty-two adults of tho twenty eight Hebrew families in Keokuk, lowa. They support thoirmvn needy ones, and maintain worship in a hull that costs about $1,200 u year. A practical chemist nt Wilmington, Del aware, has ascertained by actual experi ment that rnw Cuba augur has so many in sects that each pound of It probably con tains 250,000 of them. Ex-President Johnson arrived iu Balti more yesterday, and was received by tbo City and State officials, and was escorted by a procession of military, firemen and po lice to tho Exchange, wliero ho held a pub lic reception. J. M. Binokley, ox Internal Revenue So licitor, assaulted Deputy Commissioner Harland in tbe streets of Washington yes terday. Hinckley also attempted or threa tened an asasault upon Mr. Rollins. lie has been held in $3OO ball. g«pl Notices. Estate of- eli zabftii uF.im, i.atk of Penn twp.,decenaed.—Lctterwof Admin lbtrallou on eald estate having beou granted to the undersigned, all porsous indebted there to are t equaled to make Immediate paymont, and those having cialmw or demandM against the name will present them for settlement to the undersigned, residing In said township. EMAfOJEL KEENEH, Administrator. raarS-tttw!) E9TATEOF DAVID KKLLEB. LATE OF West LhSnogal twp., deceased.—Loiters ton* lamentary on said estate having been gran led to the undersigned, all persona Indebted there to are requested to make Immediate poyment, and those having demands against the aame will present I hem for Koitlemi-nl to the uuder* signed, residing in thb Dorongh'of Elizabeth town. BAMtJELEUY, inar3-otw*9 • Executor. Estate of John pyle, late of Lancaster city, deceased.—Letters testa mentary on said estate having been granted to the underslgued. all persons ludobled thereto, are rrinested to mako lrnmodlato settlement, and luoso having claims or deiu&uds against the same, will nresent tbom'wlinout delay for Hottleinont to tno undersigned rosMlng In suld city. LOUISA MYERS, fe 10 (Jtw 0 Executrix. Notice— inthecourtof connos Pleas of Lancaster county.—ln the matter of the application of “The German Reformed Zion’s Church of Elizabeth twp., Lancaster conuty,” for a charter of iQcorjiorailon, pro* sented Jauuary lxih, Itfft, by Win. It. Wilson, Attorney for Petitioner; and the Court direct* od the same to be tiled, and notice to be given, that if no sulUcleut reason Is shown to Uie contrary the said charter will bo granted at the next term of said Court. feb2MdwB W. L. HEAR, Protb'y. * SSIGNEEA’ NOTICE.—ASSIGNED EM- J\. tale of Henry Krelder, of Kden townhip, Lancaster county.—Honry Krelder, of Eden twp., having by deed of voluntary assignment, dated February 3rd, 18C9, assigned and trans ferred ail his estate and effect* to the Creditors of tho undersigned, for the bouofll of the Mild Henry Krelder, they therefore give noilco to all persons ludebled to said assignor to make payment without delay, and those having claims to present them to MARTIN K. KREIDER, Residing In Lancaster city. DANIEL D. HE«*, Residing In Eden twp.. Assignees. feb 24 6Lw 8) ASSIGNEE'S NOTICE ASSIGNED Es tate of Joseph Smedley and wire, of Ful* ton twp., ixncamer county. Joseph Smo.Jlty and wife, of Fulton twp., having by died of voluntary assignment, dated the Uth of Feoru* ary 18UU, assigned and transferred all their es ta>e and effects to the undersigned, tor the benefit of Iho creditors of tbo said Joseph Sinedley; he therefore gives notice to all per sons Indebted to said assignor, to make pay ment to the undersigned without delay, and those having claims to present them. febl7-«tw7 HAIWKf HWIFT, Assignee, Residing in Fulton twp;, Lancaster co g.iRUHUPr NOTICE. In tho District Court of the) United Htates for the East- >ln Bankruptcy, eru District ot Venn's. ). At. Lancaster, MARCH Ist, A. D,. ISC9. TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN : The under signed hereby gives notice of bis appointment as Assignee ot Henry B. Kauffman, of West Hempfleld twp., in the County of Lancaster and State of Pennsylvania, within said Dis trict, who has been adjudgeu a Bankrupt, upon Ills own pellilou, by the District Court of said District. D. G. KSHLKMAN, Assignor, No. iki North Duke ntreel, Lancaster, I’a, m3*3tw*9 gAN'KUCPI NOTICE. Id the District Court of the) United States i or the East- >ln Bankruptcy, era District of Penn’a, j At Lancaster, the 3d day of MARCH, 1830. TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN: The under signed hereby elves notice of his appointment as Assignee of Henry Swope, of Upper Lea cook twp.. in toe county of Lancaster, and State ol Pennsylvania, within said district, who hds been adjudged a Bankrupt upon his own, petition by the District Court of said Dis- 3XG,ESHLEMAN, mario*3twlO* 30NorthDqfcest.,Lancaster,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers