Lancaster intelligencer. (Lancaster [Pa.]) 1847-1922, March 17, 1869, Image 1

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.
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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,