®b* gatunstw |attUtgw*r, ; PUBLISHED EVEBY WEDNESDAY BY 11, O. SMITH «t CO. 11, G, A, J. Steinman TERMS—Two Dollars por annum, payable In all oases In advance. The Lancaster Daily Intelligences la published every evening, Sunday excopted, at Sopor Annum In advance. OFFlCE—Southwest corner ot Centbe BarrAßß.. _ focttjj. Written fur the Intelligencer. GRANDSIRF. *JV*» SON, OR INDI!« fESDENCE. "Come Joyous y minster, one moment spare, To Oniud'Blro wbme locks of snowy hair Once black as thine but so loug ago, ’Tis hardly clear »o memory's glow, Plui'eii as you play with heart as light, Ah, youth Is morning, 01-» age night; Butdo you know daritr g, happy boy, The cause of this great and wide-spread Joy Why the s ildters march and cannons roar; Why the people through i he city pour; Tp u listen my lit'le Grandson. Guy, This is the golden “Fourth of July. ’ Long years ago, \ os eighty and more, An Avahtuci.o ihroigu our country lure It wns the spirit of iieedoin strong, Fanned Into 1 fe by lyrauts wrong. When too people threw aside a lb mg. The crowned puppei cu'lcd their king Aud H-veu long i ears o! bloody war He moved at lust the Vulture* claw Then tired ot useless loss <>i blood; Reddening the iC-Uis and briny Hood; The “Red Cu-iG ’ sbentiy stole awaj ; Thus the p.Rriuts gained the day. D.iy which freedom to a nation gave Alter long years ul'a struggle hravi; L>uy in which England lust a gem, Rlchc-tmi all In her diadem; Now -neiry Guv, my story is done, I’ve told ti.-w our m-cd-an was wo •, He a true piUrlnL lit-li*- boy; Aliue me countiy your Ilvtdl-si.J >.v. Stand 11 inly by > .or gloi ions tlag, It is no loUi-er a “Unhid Kng” Proiltfi.v ll tloals ov* r hunt and sea, And uud-r its fnidii all men are ireo. 11 j I’lrst. When I was about fifteen 1 was the moat/ bush In 1 sprig that ever tried to .shave. 1 never dared to meet a girl in the road, but would always get over the fence and go through the lield half a mile out of tiie way to get past one. I remember once when a couple of girls were visiting my sister Km. and Julia, during a summer vacation, I went a whole week without a regular meal, aud would slut ved to death had I not stolen in through the back way and hooked pie and cake out of the pautrv when the girls were in the front room. Kow there was one neat little bonnet holder in our neighborhood, übout my own age,, to whom J was drawn iu spite of my timidity, and though 1 never daied look her iu the face, much less speak to her, yet somehow 1 was always peculiarly pleased when she deposited her books on the lir.st day of school, on a desk directly opposite the seat I hud i-hoson. During ihe v/iuter term in wbieh this adventure of mine <.mined, the hoys got into a notion of going home with the girls from singing school, meeting, and other places, aud at noon recesses great confabs were lie-id among the big tmys and girls about who Went home with Mary, and whom Anna mi toned, and how Kd got cutout, and all thul sort of sliilf. 1 looked on and listened, thinking all this must he something iiuW’ under the huh, as 1 loul never seen anything of tho kind, much less participated in it. At lust I heard so min-h that 1 C *n eluded there must be 100 much fun in it to let Liu* opportunity slip without knowing soiueiniug of it practically. Day alter day. th- ielore, 1 thought of nothing hut ‘ Will you accept'’—“Could I have the pleasure to”—and all that soft of lionsen-e, and 1 could think of no one to apply these to hut the piece of calico .whose seal was opposite mine. I couldn’t think ul'ii.-Uiug n mitten and tho fun the boys would have iu conse quence, so I determined to have all the necessary arrangements made before hand. Soon after, thercf.jrr, :it noon,! watch cd my opporUinitv, and when nil the scholars down to tin- alphabet, \ve)'(! out ol‘(loots, I cal'eil (lie object of my ad venture in. After ‘-■•me ev kwunl hesi tation L said, “ Will \;.u—could I uak you —1 would hhe lo nave you—Do you blip;>o.'i'- —i iiiv.iii it would uli'otd me mueli pleiniire to — I— 1 called you in to ask you if I rnkjhl— if you’d show me how to work ihissnm.” ' “Why, certainly,” che said, seeming to be quite relieved Hhe allowed mu !iov/ to do the sum, but shades of i*y t nagorus ! figures lied then, anyway. Twee three was thir teen, ami I made from seven leave six ty, while divisors beeame so mixed up that there was no telling which was • contained in which. We got through the sum and I took my seat, where i stayed the rest of the day. • 1 then, at 11 is I, concluded to let the rest tell and 1 would he satisfied with •hearing, hut I finally delermined to try my hand in auother direction. A few evenings afterwards, therefore, I brushed up laid combed up and got Em. and -Julia to put their peculiar twist on my necktie. I would’t tell them where L was guiug, for I was afraid they would make fun of me. To make a short story, I soon arrived at the home of the fair one, knocked, was admitted by the object of my ad venture, who bowed ami smiled charm ingly. She gave me a chair, which I tij-ped over in the act of sitting down. The usual remarks about the weather were interchanged, and I said it waa very pleasant indeed ; when ill fact it rained like split. I expected, of course, that the object of my adventure would invite me into another room right away ; but fur from that, for we sut a whole .hour without moving, while 1 said only .“yes” ami “no” and “7 guess so,” amt "niJ heard,” and whatever I couldn’t help saying. Pretty soon the object of my adven ture lighted a lump and went into' auother room. I thought I was to see her alone, and concluded that she had been waiting for the room to warm. I was congratulating myself on the pros* pent of success when she returned. I halfstartcd, anticipating her invitation. t lJut alas! for my trouble and tramp through the rain; instead ofiheexpeet ed “ Take a seat in tlieolher room,” she simply blew the light out, remarking that she couldn’t liml those patches like aunt Carry’s dress nowhere. Tills was a poser. I was hound to persevere, however, for l believed she would yet be alone. Ding, ding, ding, weut nine, ten and eleven ; amt yet they all stayed lip and patched and sewed and darued, while the man of the house talked about everything 1 didn’t want to talk about, I putting ill the “ yesses,” and “no’s ” aud “ 1 guess so’s” at perfect random. I began to give up hope! and to think of making a homeward journey. I didn’t care a fig for the rule if l could only get out of that house. The trouble now was . to get away ; for 1 thought I must make some errand, or it wouldn’t look well. Ho i coughed and twisted aud got half way up uiid set down again, and llually • said: i come to see if “bather wanted I • to Know”—“lie sent me to see”— “ We are going to “ Your stone boat in a day or two.” The accommodating man said he would do us any fav*.»r, I then took my hat and said good night as cheerful as I could, hacking out of the door, step • plug on the cut's tail —and a yowl; at the same time running against the pouuding barrel, upsetting it and tumb ling down a whole row of milk puns piled upon the stoop, Egad! didn’t I breathe free when I got outside that yard ? I toddled home ward at a rale which cuu be imagined ; never looking back, for fear of the fate of Lot’s wife. Splash, splash, through the mud I went, now into a ditch up to my knees, now down on all fours, while all I could say as I scraped the raud from my hands, was “ Confound the girls! ” To avoid the mud as mQch as possible, i started across. Just as I was climbing the fence the top rail broke and I came down very much in a heap, landing astride the buck of an old cow that had taken i-heltei from the storm under the fence. Jumping up before I could realize what was under mo, she started oil*, bellowing and kicking, while I screaming. “Wnny! go long! oh, oh! what next! Confound the girl !” Just then I lost my equilibrium and tumbled offiuto a pool of water, while the cow went on her way rejoicing more than I didjustat that time. “Coufouud the girls !” said I, as I again set out on foot. I reached home whithout further mis hap; but as it proved, my misfortunes were far from ending. I stole up to the door aud was determined to enter so quietly that no one would hear me. I shoved gently; baug, went a stack of old chairs, tin puus, buckets, buck saws, water pails, &c., rolling over tho floor Inside. “ What's up there ?” cried the old man, half awake. I kept mum, and made the best time to my room. .1 found no resistance there and thoughtmy last trial was over. I open the bed and Jumped in; but the next move was to jump out again over the foot board, landing with a splash into a tub of cold water which had been set there for the (H)e fntdlipn£e£ VOLUME 70 occasion, while “Confound the girls!” slipped out between my teeth. No one came to my assistance, and the only comfort I had was a giggle over-, head from Em. and Julia. The next thing was to get a light to Investigate the cause of the unpleasant feeling I had experienced on getting in bed. I found the matches, however, had been thoroughly soaked. I then hauled the clothes olf the bed and took up quarters fbr the rest of the night on the floor, changing my evening prayer into maledictions on the whole female race. On examining the bed in the morn ing, I found the lower sheet stuck full of pins points upward. Rather uncom fortable bed fellows, you see, and quite sufficient cause for a man’s leaving bed and cleaving unto board. I didn’t go to school for two weeks after this little affair, and when I did go, the first question I beard one of the scholars ask the teacher was, if any one ever went to sea in a stone boat. An other answered by saying be had heard of some one going to see “about” stone boat. Still another wondered what kind of beds pin-feathers made. I kept my seat pretty close the rest of the winter. I was younger than I am now. An Idle fford. “ Never!” Old Jacob Ray hissed out the words between his set teeth, with a malicious light in his dull eyes as they rested on the tali graceful figure of the girl who was mixing bread in a wooden tray at the old table beyond. “No,” lie added, watching with a cool, deliberate malice the oval face, “my son ahull never be your hus band !” Rachel Miner’s cheek crimsoned. “Hut he loves me for all that,” she said, passionately. “Love!” mocked the old man, lu a sneering tone. “Love! An old wife’s song—a tale told long ago. Hah! what does it all amount to? Hubert Ray shall never marry a servant'girl!” “ Mr. Ray,” said Rachel, turning round short and sharp, “be silent. — You have insulted me far enough—too far. If I live I will be revenged oh you ! For—” She checked herself suddenly, for close to the door Adoniram Jeukes’ tall figure lodmed up at the same Instant. “Moruin’, Farmer Ray,” said that Individual, with a curious glance at the two excited colloquists. “How d’ye do, MissKuchel? I’ve come to see’bout them apples ye wanted took to the vil lage. Lucie Josh is goln’ dowu with the ox team early tomorrow morning, uini he can tuke ’em, jest's well’s not.” “ Come out in the storehouse and look at ’em,” said Farmer Ray, risiugsiowiy ami with difficulty from his cushioned arm-chair. And together they went out, leaving Rachel Miuer alone. She was a tall, lovely girl, with jet black hair, large eyes full of .Southern languor, and checks delicately tiuted like newly opened peach-blossoms. Hardly had the two men disappeared than she shook the flour from her beautiful hands aud arms, and began to pace slowly up and down, the color coming aud going on her cheek, and a steadfast light burning in her dark eyes. “He docs love me,” she muttered to herself, “and I love him! No power on earth can part us, when God has sealed the union of our hearts; yet his father dares to talk of separating us be cause Mary Woodham has money, and I have none—because her father is a Judge, aud mine I never knew. But Hubert is not like this strauge, saturn ine old man—Ac will be true to me through everything. I must strive to do as lie would counsel me, were he here—wait and endure In such patience as I can command.” With a long, shuddering sigh, she went back to the old pine table and the mouldering board, murmuring to her self : “At all eveuts,' I have not long to wait. He will be home soon —ray Hu bert !” Her voice softened to an accent like the cob of a dove as she uttered the last few words, aud a tender, dewy light stole iuto her eyes. Yes, it was very evident that Rachel Miner loved this man, of whom her thoughts were full. “ Farmer Ray to hum ?” The afternoon’s sun of the next day was low in the west, tracing its golden fretwork on the kitchen floor, when Adoniram Jenkes’ox team halted at the door, and that rustic charioteer hailed Rachel Miner, as she sat sewing in- the shadow of the hop vines that draped the window. “No,” said Rachel, quietly, “he is not. 1 have not seen him all day.” “ Isn’t he up stairs ?” “ No ; he is nowhere about the prem ises. He went up to bed as usual last night, and I have not seen him since.” “The dickens you haven’t,” quoth honest Adoniram. “ Where do you s’pose he is? “I have not the least idea. You know how strange he is. Perhaps the freak has seized him to go away for a day or two. I dare say he will be back in time.” “ You dou’t seem much worried about it, auy how,” said Adoniram, with a short laugh. “No,” said Rachel, quietly, not,” So Adoniram went away, muttering under breath that “it was mighty queer, anyhow.” “ I ai’ays waß afeared o’ that stuck up hired gal o’ his’n,” he pondered as he drove “hawing” and “geeing” along. “Too airy for her place, a deal, accord in' to my way o' thinkin’!” But as the dayß went by, and old Jacob Ray did not return, the neighbors began to look at one another and ask questions which nobody could answer. And one night the village constable walked in and arrested Rachel Miner, “on suspicion of'murder.” “Murder!” echoed Rachel, turning' as white as the wall. “Merciful Heaven ! whom on earth should I murder?” “ Come, none o’that,” said the man of olllce ; “ you know as well as we do that it’s old Mr. Ray. When did you do it? and what have you done with the body ?” “ Mr. Ray,” slowly repeated Rachel. “But why should you suspect me f" “There’s reason euough,” spoke up one of the accompanying neighbors. “Wusn’t you always a quarrelliu’? And didu’t Adoniram Jenkes bear you say, with his own ears, that you’d be revenged on the poor old man, ouly the night before he disappeared ?” “{Slop,” said Rachel, wit.i her trem bling hand to her forehead, “let me remember. Yes—yes, I did say that; but I never meant aught but au Idle word ” “It’s easy savin’ bo!” said Adoniram with a shrugof his shoulders; “but where’s old Jacob? That’s the ques tion, Come, Rachel Miner, you may as well confess.” “ I canuot,” cried Rachel, tremulous* ly. “lam as innocent of this crime, if crime there is, as the babe unborn. But he is not dead ; he will Burely be back, one day. Only wait!” . “We’ve waited just about long euough,” said the constable, gruffly, “and you’re my prisoner. So, come along; the quieter the better.” “ Hubert will be on to-ulght, won’t he!” questioned Adoniram. “Yes, if he got the telegram,” an swered another. “ Hallo f what’s up?” For Rachel had sunk on a chair, with a slight agonized cry, as the words reached her ear. Hubert) Ray to come home, and find her underarrest! And on suspicion of having murdered his father! Oh, could it all be an awful dream? “It is impossible! it can't bo!” she wailed wildly. “Oh, let me go. He will come back again. You will see how unfounded all your fears have been. Let me go!” And with a sobbing moan, she fainted away. “It’s better so,” said the constable, phlegmatically, “ we’d a-hada scene, if she’d had her Bensea. Women ba’n’t no self-control. Lend a hand, Adoni ram, and we’ll get her in the wagon. Time enough to bring her to arter wards.” When Rachel Miner returned to her senses, she lay on a warm pallet in one of the most decent rooms in the village “lockup,” "with the keepers wife del uging her forehead in burnt vinegar and hartshorn, and a tender face bend ing over her own. “Hubert!” “ Yes, Rachel, it is I. Lie still, darl ing—-dont look so terrified!” - “ But, Hubert, do you know—” “ I know it all, Rachel—and I know too that you are as innocent as a lily, bud, my poor, outraged darling. It will all come right in time. My poor fath era murderers must be traced, and you will stand forth in theßightof the world es pure as you really are.” She sank back on her pillows, while a look of uquterable peace came over her pale countenance. “1 don’tmind itany longer, Hubert!” she murmured softly. “ Let them all call me guilty, as long as yon believe in my innocence!” The village of Weeksdale had its Dine days’ wonder; the stream of gossip was at high tide now !• That Hubert Ray should persist in the innocence of the girl who undoubtedly had killed his father—that he should not even break their marriage engagement—surely the idle tongue of rumor needed no more delicious morsel than this! “Rachel murder my father!” he cried, contemptuously. “Why, Rachel never hurt so much a 3 a butterfly in her life.” “Well, then, who did It!” persisted Adoniram Jenkes. “I heerd her my self say she’d be revenged on him, only the night afore he disappeared.” “It was an idle word —a foolish word,” said Hubert, with a slight cloud on his frank, open brow, “but she nev er meant it. I would stake my own life on Rachel’s innocence.” The time of trial drew near, and still no light shone upon the dark and troubled mystery ; and a day or two be fore the sitting of the court, Adoniram Jenkes stopped his ox team once again before Farmer Ray’s door. Old Goody Parker, who “ kept an eye to things,” was out in the hen yard, gathering her apron full of eggs, and Adoniram went in straight into the kitchen. The fire was burning brightly on the hearth, before its ruddy glimmer, with staff and bundle beside him, aud worn shoes all (lusty with the tokens of trav el, sat old Jacob Ray In his wonted chair. Adoniram Jenkes uttered a choked sort of cry. He was not superstitious, yet at that moment he fully believed that he saw before him the ghost of the murdered man. “What ye a croakin’ at?” demanded Jacob, in his ordinary abrupt mood. “Where’s Rachel? What’s old Goody Parker doin’ in ray hen yard? Why don’t you speak, instead o’ standin’ starin’ there?” “Well, I am beat,” said Adoniram, dabbing at his forebead with the crown of bis hat. “Ho you au’t murdered, arterall.” “Murdered! No; but I’ve corneas near It as man need to come.” And old Jacob Ray told the tale of how, trudging to town in the early morning to deposit in some bank a hoard of ready money he had contrived to ac cumulate, he had been knocked down and robbed by ruflluns, who, scenting the money, had dogged him some dis tance, and how his body, the life totally extinct as they believed, no doubt, had been left on the beach, hidden under a pile of overhanging rocks, when the first tide would bear it off to sea like somo useless bit of driftwood. “ But a craft bound to Havauny pick ed me lit) with Its boat, just as 1 was lifted off the sand by the incomin’ tide,” went on old Jacob, while Adoniram listened with wide open eyes aud aaouth, “ and somehow there was a bit o’ life in the old hulk yet; and afore we’d got dowu fur, I come to. And the first port we stopped at, I come off agin, for they was furriners, and I couldn’t no ways make ’em understand, nor they me.— Aud I’ve worked my way home the best way lean, and —and that’s all,” concluded Jabob Ray, rather abruptly. And then Adoniram Jenkes had his story to relate, no less electrifying to Jacob Ray, thau Jacob’s had been to him. “Give me my hat and stick, quick !” cried theold man,starting up. “Rachel Miner in prison for my murder ! Rachel Miner, whose heart was softasarobin’s ! Are you all fools, the whole pack of ye? I was always hard ou that poor girl— too hard, yes, too hard. Give me my hat and stick, I say!” ADd away he trudged, before Adoni ram fully knew what he was about. “Rachel!” he cried, burstinginto the desolate little room where the pale, lovely girl sat with her faithful lover at her side talking over the dread possi bilities that lay before them ; “it’s all a lie! They’ve treated you shamefully; but I’ll make amends for it, see if I don’t” “Father,” cried Hubert. “ Mr. Ray !” broke from Rachel’s pale lips. And then old Jacob had to tell his story all over again. “ I knew it,” cried Hubert, triumph antly. “ I knew all along that she was innocent.” “ So might they all ha’ known ; a set of gibbering idiots,” cried the old man. “ But, Hubert, you shall marry her to morrow—my poor little gal! I’ll oppose it no longer.” He kept his word. Hubert Ray and Rachel Miner were married the next day, and the old farm bouse bears a homelike look again. But Rachel has never forgotten the deadly peril that once overhung her future, in conse quence of having spoken one “ idle word.”— N. Y. Ledger. The Daughter of Aaron Burr. Theodosia Burr’s habits of life were, I have beard my mother say, much like those of Mrs. itemble. She wa'S a fa mous walker and skater, and accompa nied her father on shooting and fishing excursions. As a horsewoman she was unsurpassed ; aud, on her visit to her New England friends, sometimes aston ished their quiet neighbors by Tiding overthecountry taking walls and ditch es in flying leaps. Yet, she was in the best sense of the word, feminine, and essentially a lady. The last days of this grand woman were very sad, aud her fate is even yet wrapt in awful obscurity. It is only known that, when broken in health and almost in heart, by the loss of her only son, she embarked from Charles ton, to join her unhappy fatherin New York, on a small sailing vessel, accom panied ouly by her phyaieiau and ser vant. That vessel never was heard of more, and it has always been supposed that it foundered in a gale off Cape Hat teras. But some tweuty-five or thirty years ago a seaman dying in a hospital at New Orleans, confessed to having been a pirate, and among other terrible things, lie told of his ship having ruu down a schooner bound for New York from Charleston, and of having scuttled her after taking possession of every thing valuable. The few passengers, he suit], and such of the crew as were disinclined to enlist under their black banner, they compelled to walk the piank. Among the passengers was one lady, who rem enstrated against having her hands bound andbeingblindfolded, promising to offer no resistance. So they let her have her own way, he said, und she stepped on to the plank, and, with her eyes wide open, walked offiuto the sea. I have always believed that the woman who met her fate in this grand Roman way, was the daughter of Aaron Burr, Theodosia Burr. —Grace Greenwood. A “Gentleman of Leisure.” There are very few grown men, or even “stout boys;” in this country who have any pride in beingout of business. Occasionally one is found, however, and when found he is worth making a note of. We ran across a genuine speci men the other day—or, rather, he ran against us —emphatically against us; against our feelings, against our judg ment, against our sympathy, but not against our pity. We did pity him, and that was the extent of our recognition. He was dressed faultlessly—that is, if the extreme of latter-day fashion can be called faultless; he had beautiful white hands and teeth, his hair was parted in the middle, his downy moustache adroitly. colored and curl ed, a gold mounted eyeglass dangled from a button-hole of his vest, aud a “nobby” little walking-stick was twisted in his bejewelled lady-fingers. He was proudio say that he was a “gen tleman of leisure.” We inferred as much before he said it. What else could be inferred? What earthly use could the mortal thing be put to? Phy sical force he had not; bis mind was as vacant as an exhausted receiver, and he seemed to have no excuse for living ex cept to advertise some tailoring estab lishment. It is something to the credit of this republican country that such specimens of the genus homo are rare. We can only wish that they were so rare that Barnum would be induced to cage them with his monkeys; though the monkeys would be apt to protest against the companionship.— Packard's Monthly . The Swedenboreians are holding a Con vention in New York. The treasurer’s re port shows $50,000 in the treasury. LANCASTER PA. WEDNESDAY MORNING JUNE 23 1869 Mrs. Steflane’s Bream. It was Monday morning. It was also “ washing day, ” in a house where the family consisted of husband and wife and live small children, the lat ter of whom were gifled with a per fectly marvellons lacolty and fa cility for “ rending and destroying,” and especially for soiling beyond hope of redemption, every clean garment with which their much enduring mo ther provided them during the week. Mrs. Stefane, like all other mothers, was proud of her children, and liked to see them neat and cleanly dressed, even beyond the average necessity of a child’s simple toilet. Consequently her wash ing basket on Monday morniDg was a sight calculated to strike* awe and ter ror into the soul of any young maiden on the brink of matrimony. She sat idly tapping the red covered, washing-book with her ivory pencil, while her eyes rested on the basket at her feet, but not with their usual calm ly satisfied glance. Something wasevi dently wrong. What was it? “ Eighty-five dollars for the lace poc ket-handkerchief she carried,” said the wifeof twelve yearsstandiDg, musingly: “and five hundred and fifty for her shawl; while that silk dress of hers would positively stand alone. Ah me ! it is well to be her 1 And I might have been Judge Howell’s wife myself; for he asked me to marry him six months before he ever saw her, and was fit to blow his brains out when I refused him. At least be said he was. Ah me ! ” And then the lady sighed again, and gave the washing • basket a spiteful shove with her slippered foot. “ Mother, I can’t find my shoe !” “ Mother, do you kDow where my blue tie is ? ” “ Mother, will you come and fasten :his frock? It is so tiresome.” “Mother, isn't breakfast most ready?” “ Muzzer, me ties you.” These exclaimatious burst upon her ear, as the door of the nursery suddenly opened, and showed five curiy headed, rosy-cheeked, healthy Icokinggirls and boys who looked at her wonderingly, as she neither rose nor replied to their questions. “Mother, isn’t brsakfaetmostready?” called out the most venturesome of the little brood, the blue-eyed Tommy, who had already asked that question once before. The interruption sounded harshly. The mind ofthe thoughtful woman was absent from the body at that moment, wandering back through the rosy paths of the past, where a handsome and wealthy lover eume to woo. Aud now, in the present, she was the hard worked wife of a poor and struggling man ; the mother of fivo troublesome young hu mau beings, for whose sake all such beautiful vanities qb lace handkerchiefs aud India shawls,and silks that “would stand alone,” must bo for ever given up. The contrast was a very decided, and by no means a pleasant one. She look ed uj>. “Go away, children, all of you, at once!” she said in a harsh voice.— “Breakfast isn’t ready yet, and I’m sure I don’t know when it will be, with such a pack of youug troubles to look after. There, godown stairs, every one of you, and don’t speak to me till I get this washiug list made out.” Looking at each other with a mortifi ed aud crestfallen air, the children stole away, one after the other, and went down tothebreakfastroom, where their father sat reading his paper and wait ing patiently for the morning meal. Presently the sound of many voices and much laughter penetrated to the upper room, where the mother still sat brooding alone. She listened a moment or two, and then rose from her chair. , "What a noise they do make when they are all together!” she said, fret fuily. “And, oh dear, how discouraged and weary of it all Ido feel! I will lie down for five minutes, and Ann can take in breakfast to them all. If they have that, they will not miss me ! How strangely my head does feel! Eighty five dollars for one single pocket-hand kerchief! It is really too bad that I should be drudging here, day in and day out, with hardly a decent gown once a year, while she —” A strange drowsy feeliog overcame her, and hushed her trouble and repin ing together. Her eyelids closed. Her head sank back upon the pillow. She slept, or seemed to sleep. * * * Rising up from that long slumber at last, but still feeling strangely heavy and dull, Mrs. Stefane went down stairs, idly reproaching herself for her deser tion of her husband and children at the breakfast hour. But the breakfast room was empty, though the deserted table gave ample and sufficientevidence that her absence had by no means affected the appetites of the party. She rang the bell. The Irish servaut entered. “Where is your master?” asked Mrs. Stefaue, feeliug strangely hurt that she should have to put such a question to a servant, as to her husband's where abouts. “The master, ma’am,” said the good natured Auu, with a broad smile. “Sure, ma’am, aud he said he’d be after takingallthe childerjdown the river, as it was such a fine day. They were jist wild to go, the darlings !” “Down the river!” gasped Mrs. Ste pbaue, feeliug as if she could not be lieve her ears. That “ down the river trip” had been a long looked-for and eargerly discussed pleasure to be shared by the whole family, and by her! And they had gone and left her ! “ You see, ma’am, you was in such a beautiful slape, that the master would not have you disturbed,” went on tbe stupid, but good-natured Ann. “And so he told me to dress the cbilder my self, and I did. And very pretty they looked, the little darlings !” “Clear the breakfast things away!” said Mrs. Stefaue. “Yes, ma’am. I left thetable for you thinking you might be liuDgry after your slape. Won’t I bring you a cup of coffee, ma’am, and afresh roll or two ?” “ No, thank you.” “An egg now, ma’am, or a taste of fried ham ! I’ll cook it for you in a minute, ma’am.” “1 waut nothing—nothing!” and Mrs. Stefaue fairly ran from the room, for the ready tears were even then in her eyes. This then was all they cared for her, she thought, as she gazed around her own chamber, Ann had removed the clothes basket during her sleep, but the room was littered and untidy, and as it was washing day, she could the girl away from her work to attend to it. Still less would Bhe slave there her self, while her truant family were en joying tbe fresh river breezes from the deck of a beautiful steamer. The room might go. What did it matter? What did anything matter? And then she sat down and leaned her head on her hand, and thought of the lace kerchiefs, and the India shawls, and the magnificent silk dresses of Judge Howell’s wife, till her heart was full of burning and bitter thoughts against those whom she really loved far better than life itself. Going into the parlor after dinner was over, she still pursued this useless and almost wicked train of thought. Whit tier's “ Maud Muller, ’’ .beautifully illus trated, was on the centre table. She took it up with a sentimental aspect that was rather ludicrous in a stout “well-to-do” mother of a family like her. " Ah me! That I ihejudge’s bride might be 1” she repeated once or twice after the book dropped from her hand. “ He would dress me up In silks bo fine. And preise me and toast me over his wine! ’’ And then she looked down, upon her well worn alpaca dress, and sighed again. Poor Mrs. Stefane! The “Judge’s bride” was a beautiful girl of eighteen, who had accepted him eagerly, in spite of his iron-gray hair and fifty years, because of the wealth and position he could offer her. And “ the Judge” doted on his bride, as only a man of that age is capable of doiDg! The romance of his youth was a van ished and forgotten romance to him. And if any one could have shown him Mrs. Stefane, “ as she appeared ” on the washing day of which I write, he would have been one of the first to propose that “ the woman Bhould be Bent to a lunatic asylum without any further de lay.” But Mrs. Stefane knew nothing of all this, and sat and sighed over his mem ory and her one loßt chance of fortune till twilight gave place to dusk. Then, for the first time, she roused herself sufficiently from her reverie to wonder why her husband and childreh had Dot returned. She rang the bell. Ann came in, The girl looked pale and scared, and had evidently been weeping. “ What is the matter?” asked her mistress, when she caught a glimpse of her face. The girl hesitated. “ Answer me!” Ann wrung her hands wildly, aud burst into a regular Irish howl. “Oh, ma’am, go down on your two knees and be thankful that you didn’t go on that dreadful boat this morning! My poor master, and the blessed little chilaer! Mrs. Stefane caught her by the arm. “ Stop that noise, and tell me at once what you mean! “Ob, ma’am, I only heard it five minutes ago from the policeman at the corner! The boat they went ou got to racing with another, .and there’s been an explosion, ma’am, and every soul on board—Oh, ma’am, where are you go ing?” She might well ask the questiou. Mrs. Stefane rnshed from the room like a mad woman, caught bonnet and shawl from the hall rack as she passed, and was out in the street the next mo ment, hurrying frantlcly along toward the offices where the tickets for the river boats were sold. The excited crowd grouped before the entrance of the principal one told the tale. Piercing her way through the living mass by the mere force of ner vous energy, she appeared, pale as a spectre,"before the clerk, to hear the tidings ofherdoom. Yes, Mrs. Stefane and his five chil dren had gone dowu the river on the Sylph of the Waters, at ten o’clock Ihdt very morniDg. Some accident had hap pened to the machinery, the boiler had exploded, and every soul on board was dro wne.d! Childless, and a widow! With lone last poor attempt at courtesy she tried to thank the clerk, who evi dently sympathized with her grief, aud then she threw up her hauds, and with a heavy groan fell senseless at his feet. Out of that long swoon she came back to consciousness with a painful struggle that was almost worse than death. Some one was bending over her, em bracing her. calling her by name. Her husband ! aliveaud well! And from the nursery, jußt beyond her room, came the welcome, well-known sound of her children’s voices! What could it all mean ? “Not dead! Not drowned! Oh, Parke forgive me, and I will never be so wicked again!” she cried, as sheflungherarms around her husband’s neck. “Dead! drowned! why darlingNvhat has alarmed you so?” said her husband, tenderly. “The children and I came up to see why you were solute for break fast. I left them In the nursery, and came hi here after you, but you were lying as still, and white, ami cold, as If you were dead ! It almost took my breath away to see you so ! What ails-, you, love? Are you 111? Have you been ill? Has anything frightened you? Tell me!” “ OLi, nothing alls me, nothing is the matter,” she answered with a s' b of gratitude and joy. “I suppose I full asleep and dreamed all kind of horrors lam well now. Kiss me, Parke, and we will go down to breakfast.” They went. And a happy meal it was, with the mother so bright and merry and pleasant, though her face was still so pale. Years have gone by since then. But Mrs, Stefane has never told her dream — if it was a dream—to her husband, and has never wished again “the Judge’s bride to be.” Busy and contented, she does her duty with a will, and asks no better fate than to be the true aud loving wife of a poor man ; the.careful, tender mother of a poor man’s children; the light and blessing and centre of happiness of a poor man’s home. A Stage-loach Story. Several years ago, six travelers found themselves seated together iu a stage in the far Northwest, aud to re lieve the tedium of the journey, one of them told the following story : In the year 18—, a family of emigrants from New England established them selves on an uninhabited'prairie near what was then the extreme borders of western civilization. They consisted of a husband and wife, the widowed sister of the latter, and her infant child. No neighborly greeting awaited them, for they were the only dwellers within a circuit of ten miles; and the nearest settlement was half aday’s journey dis tant. The widow was a lovely but broken-spirited woman of twenty-tvo. Since her husband’s death, her affec tions ware centred in her babe. She had been left in comfortable circum stances; in fact, her brother-in-law be ing a poor man, theland they occupied, together with the farming stock aud implements, were purchased with her means. A few months’ labor sufficed to gave the family a comfortable home, aud to surround it with many signs of com mencing prosperity. Autumn had passed, and they were looking forward to a season of comparative ease aud en joyment, when, one day, Mr. Hartwell, as I shall call the head of the house hold, feftind it necessary to visit the nearest village, for the purpose of pro curing supplies. These, it was arrang ed, should be forwarded to him by a passing team, iu the course of a day or two, as his own wagon had broken down, and he was forced to make tbe journey on horseback. The weather, when he started, had been slightly over cast with a rising wind from ithe north east; but none of the family were prepared for tbe sight which they encountered tbe morning after his return. A slight fall of enow which began the night be fore, had increased to such a degree that the drifting material was piled al most to the eaves of the cabin, and al ready rendered impassable every road that Jed to it. They were close prison ers, with no prospectof aspeedy release, for the storm continued all day with the utmost fury. At first but little alarm was felt by the blockaded inmates. — Their wood-pile was sheltered aud easily accessible, aud the food on hand would suffice for three or four days, at the end which time they had no doubt the pur chased supplies would reach them. — They had never heard of tbe terrific tempest which sometimes, in that lati tude, convert the prairies into ahowling ocean of snow for weeks together. The lifthday came aud went, and still the storm raged on. They were now al most buried on all sides, and the cold had become,intense. At length, when they had been three days without food, he who should have been their protector to the end, began to throw out hiDts which made the widow’s flesh creep, and her heart sink like lead within her bosom. Next day, he spoke out more plainly. One of them, he said, must be sacrificed to save the rest, and that one must be the youngest and most useless. The wretched woman clasped her infant more closely, and shrunk into the far thest corner of the room, as she heard the threat, and marked the glance which accompanied it— aglance telling not more of hunger than of hate. It was charity to Buppose that the man’s brain was disordered by his sufferings; but- yet it was evident that this dire emergency had also served to bring in to open view the workings of malignant passions long and craftly conoealed.— The widow had for some time suspected that her brother-in-law regarded her self and her child with little warmth of affection; she knew him to be avar icious and unscrupulous; but Bhe had not thought that the touch* stone of extreme calamity would reveal him to her as a monster! Now, however, in those wolfish eyes, as ever and anon they glared upon her darling, she read, even before his lips declared it, the fell purpose with which the demons of greed and famine had joined to inspire him. A single stroke, he had determined, should both avert the lingering fate which every day brought nearer, and sweep the main obstacle from his path to competence; for the widow was thought to be con sumptive, and, failingjher offspring, bis wife, her sister, was her only heir. Mrs. Hartwell had already succumbed to privation and anxiety. The widow and her unnatural connection were thus left as it seemed, to be the sole actors in the hideous tragedy which was shortly to ensue. Another day passed. By this time Hartwell had consumed what was left of his stock of liquors, and was wrought into a state of half maniacal excitement. Seeing his op portunity, while the widow’ was uneasi ly dozing, with her Qhiid in her arms, he advanced, knife in hand, toward them. Before he reached them, she awoke, and fled, sbriekiDg, with the babe into an adjoining room, where she flung herself down beside her half inan imate sister, and called upon her wildly for protection. The object of the appeal was mused to momentary consciousness Sbepartially lifted herself,and motioned to her husband, who hastily coDtealed his weapon and slunk, as if awe struck, from the chamber. The widow imme diately rose, and, after fastening the door, expended the remuant of her strength in piling against itsome bulky articles of furniture. This done, she sunk fainting beside her sister, whohad relapsed into her former condition. When she recovered the use of her senses, night had come on, and all around her was wrapped in darkness. The single window in the room was directly behind the bed, and opened upon a rude piazza, which sheltered that side of tbe dwelling. After a short interval, the widow became aware that tome one inside was endeavoring to unfasten the heavy wooden shutters. Incapable of further resistance, she could ODly lie in breathless silence, awaiting the result. In a few moments the shutters were flung apart, and her brother.in.law’s body was protruded through the open ing, which was without sashes. His arm was raised, and again the kni e hung suspended over the head of her unconscious babe. The helpless wo man-closed her eyes, and sent up a si lent prayer to that Power who once before had turned aside the fatal stroke. At thatmomeutsheheard from beneath the window a low, hoarse growl, min gled with short, anarliDg yelps, as if from a crowd of infuriated animals. Then a shriek of mortal terror burst "from the lips’of the would-be assasisn; his knife dropped harmless beside the intended victim ; he clutched for a few moments frantically, at the window ledge, and then disappeared;- 1 dragged down by some resistless foe. - When the widow once more regained consciousness, she found herself and child in the hands of friends, by whom their wants were tenderly supplied. Within two hours after the events just related a party from the village had succeeded in making their way to the solitary cabin. Mrs. Hartwell was al ready dead. Her sister was at first sup posed to be beyond hope of recovery, but by care and skill her restoration was effected. A few rods from the clearing, the body of Hartwell was discovered, almost devoured by wolves, whohad been em boldened by famine to surround the house. The mother lived to see her babe, thus strangely rescued, grown to vigor ous manhood ; and he himself bus sur vived to amuse his fellow-travelers with this account of early dangers aud es capes, close to the scene of their occur rence. We passed the spot about a mile from our starting place.—A’. Y. Ledger. The Conservation of Beauty “There’s the remainsof a fine woman abouttSairey,” was the remark of Bailey Junior, as he gazed upon the venerable features ofMrs. Gamp. Ah! what would Mrs. Gamp have been then If she could have availed herself of the resources of modern science—if she could have been dyed as to her hair, enameled and rouged as to her cheeks, with the tri umphs of a fashionable dentist in her mouth, and the padding of an artistic dressmaker in all the proper places! Beauty need no Jonger sigh over sus picious silver in the flowing tresses, over the wrinkles which time has been wont to write upon the snowy brow ; there is grace aDd brilliancy for sale in the shop, and “an outline” to be pur chased as graceful as thajfcofMad. Man tilini. To be sure, there is a difference between Norah’s gown Which “wan tons in the mountain breezes,” leaviog “every beauty free to rise and fall as nature pleases,” and that thing of silk and stuff'and buckram and whalebone which is called “a dress.” But artificial manners and customs demand arti ficial expedients. The little girl cries when mamma sternly insists upon the first corsets—but mamma knows best, and is wiser than nature, and the time comes, alas! when the little girl cries no longer. If she lives long enough Bhe will have all manner of washes and eradicators on her dress ing table, aud then, in due succession, will follow the more recondite myster ies of rejuvenation. She will read, with more than curiosity, advertisements like the one now before us. It is that of a miracle worker in Boston, who promises to restore to the belie of the period every charm which has flown, and every beauty which has faded. No matter though a face may be as ugly aDd wrinkled as any which ever grew in deformity and decay upon the easel of Dennefc! Madam P of street, Boston,- has rare secrets which will make the rosesand the lilies of a second Spring bloom there in more than pres tine freshness. She addresses herself “to the elite of Boston and of New Englaud generally.” The climate of New Eng land, we are told, is a great destroyerof female beauty. The youug ladies there are tbe most charming in the world, but the climate is well known to be impla cable. The east wind has a way of its own imparting a certain rosiness to tbe cheek—a most unfortunate distribution of color! There is apt to be a great precocity of wrinkles and for wrinkles Madame has what she is pleased to call the “Destructeur des Rides,” or “ Wrinkle Destroyer.” All seams she ; speedily obliterates—all corrugations disappear after “ two slight applications of the Destructeur.” “Under the eye, or the brow, around the mouth,” they are no longer to be observed by the most fastidious connoisseuc. “Madame” addresses herself especially to “ the daughters of fortune” who languish under the effects “of frequent rounds of gaiety, the ennui which so surely fol lows.” These, when “ the mirror has notified them of their altered features,” are invited to call upon “Madame,” and to test her “ chemical triumph” It is thus that she puts out her “ Card to the Fashionable,” and invites them to come and be beautified. All this is evidently an improvement upon the process to which the daughters of Pelias subjected their reverend but wrinkled papa. There is no cutting up, and no dangerous boiling, in the estab lishment of “Madame.” Under the benign influence of her “ Destroyer” a marble smoothness returns to the coun tenance, and it becomes at once “polish ed after the similitude of a palace.” One rubbing may accomplish tne won der, but two will be found infallible. A woman may go In a witch, a crone, a beldam, a hag, and come out a nymph, a Cleopatra, a fairy, and a form of life and light! There is only one objection to this great process. It will-make beauty too common. Wrinkles, as be ing the exception, will come to be ad mired, and some other “Madame” will set up an opposition establishment, and advertise herself as a “Wrinkle Re storer.” We trust that “Madame” will not be too extensively employed. We hope that some dear old venerable faces, with a beauty in their decay which ‘ the fair, fallacious looks” of Dalila never knew, will be left us to love and reverence. We hope that there are young ladies still who will be persuaded that cold water is the best cosmetic, an'd a cheer ful, well-occupied mind the best “De stroyer of Wrinkles.” Would that woman could be made to understand how little these arts avail them with men whose admiration is worth having! — JS, Y. Tribune. Fowls in Orchards. The public has yet to learn the full advantage of keeping poultry. Few seem to appreciate what they may do among trees in an orchard. Let any one try them in an orchard of a quarter of an acre, where they may be kept by a picket fenco four or five feet high ; put in; say 125 fowls, and observe the result. He will avoid the annoyance in the garden, of which so many com plain, while they will work among the trees, doingjust what is needed, and destroying everything that can injure the fruit trees In the shape of bugs, worms, or other insects, and lay a large number of eggs, which are a cash article, to say nothing of the chickens, which pay well for raising at the present time. 1 have tried it, and know it is so. I have about one hundred fowls, which have worked ad mirably among my trees, keeping tbe ground in good condition, keeping ofl the insects, and promoting the growth of the orchard. lam satisfied that we have yet to learn I he full benefits which may be derived from the proper man agement of fowls, and it is quite possi ble that the method I have suggested may offer the best way of getting our apple orchards into bearing condition. JUxchctTigot Tilk DUTIES OP THE ASSESSORS, And the Blfbta of Voters Pnder the Revtstrj Law of April mb, 1869. The following address has been issued by the Democratic Committee to the votars of Luzerne county, it is good reading for the voters of Lancaster county. For the purpose or snowing you wbat you will have to do this fall iu order to vote, we have bad the following Exposition of the new election law,- (or as it is called the Registry Law,) prepared for your use. Wo cab tbe especial attention of naturalized voters tu ttje provisions concerning them. They are picked out to be specially worried before they can vote; and finally when they are allowed to vote, their certificate of ciuzwnabipis to be marked on the back, like a store doe-bill, every lime it is traded on, with the word “voted” and tbe date, Tbe same party that passed this -law, pass ed a similar law last year, (IS6S.) which tbe Supreme Court declared unconstitutional. This law is iu spirit unconstitutional no doubt, too, inasmuch as it necessarily ob structs the freedon of voting, and wor ries the voter into yielding up his franchise; particularly in this coun ty, where a separate ticket for every candidate for all the township, county and state officers must now be'voted. Will it obstruct and prevent the exercise of the right of suffrage guaranteed by our const!- tutiou ? But read tbo^exposition of the law for yourselves. I. Ou the first Monday of June 1 lie Asses sors are to begin a revision of the transcripts of names furnished them by the County Commissioners. This duty consists of the several particulars following: 1. Strike out the name of every person whom the Assessor kuows, personally or by reliable information, to have died, or removed from the district since the last previous assessment. 2. Add the name cf any qualified voter whom the Assessor shall know, personally or by reliable information, to have removed into tbe district since the lasL previous as sessment. 3. Add the bames of all personswbosball claitn to be qualified voters in your district; assets them with a tax, and ascertain by in quiry upon what ground the persons so as sessed claims to be a voter. This duty in volves no discretion upon the part of the Assessor. He is not to decide upon the claimant’s right to vote, but ouly to report his nnmo and tbe grounds of bis claim. 4. Tbe Assessor is next to visit every dwelling house in his district, and make careful inquiry if any person whose name is on his list has died, or removed from the district, and, if so, to take his name from the list; or whether any qualified voter re sides therein whose name is Dot on bis list, aud, if so, to add the same thereto, and as sess him with a tax. In this instance, the Assessor is tojudgeof the claimant’s right to vote, for lie Is.only to udd "qualified voters,” whom he discovers by visiting each dwelling. 5. Upon the completion of this work the Assessor is to make out u list, in alphabeti cal order, ol‘ the white freemen above twen tv-ono years of ago cluimiqg to be qualified voters in the wurd, borough, township or district of which he is the Assessor, and op posite each of said names Btute the follow ing particulars: a. Housekeeper or not housekeeper, b. If a housekeeper, the numbor of bis rcsidenco, with the street, alley, lane or court, if in a town where houses are num bered ; if not, then the street, alley, lane or court on which the house fronts. c. The occupation of the person, and where he is not a housekeeper, the occupa tion, place of boarding, and with whom, und, if working for another, the name of the employer. d. Opposite each name write the word "voier.” e. If tbe person cluims the right to vote by reason of Daturalizatioo, he must exhibit his certificate to the Assessor, unless he has been for five consecutive years next pre ceding a voter in said district, aud in ail cases where tbe person has been naturaliz ed tiis name shall be marked with the lat ter “ N.; ” whore he bus merely declared bin intention to become a citieea his name is to be marked “ D. I where the claim is to vote by reason of being between tbe ages of twenty-one and twenty-two, the word “ age ” is to be added to bis name, aud if he has removed into the districtHince the last general election the letter “ R.” Is to be placed opposite his name. f. A separate list of all new assessments, aud the amounts usseased upon each per son, is to be immediately furnished to the County Commissioners, together with the general list revised and corrected, as afore said. g. On receiving back from the County Commissioners duplicate copies of said list, with tbe observations and expla nations noted as aforesaid, ibo Asses sor,' prior to tbe first day of August, is to place one copy on the door, or other conspicuous part of the house where the olection is required by law to be held, nnd to retain the other in his posses sion, for the inspection, free of charge, of any resident of the district. h. The Assessor is to add, from time to time, to his list the name of any one claim ing the right to vote, mark opposite the name the letters “C. V.” assess a tax, and note as in other cases, his occupation, resi dence, whether a housekeeper, or a boarder, und with whom he boards, and whether naturalized, or designing to be, inakiDg in all such cases the letters “N,” or “D. I,” opposite his name. If the person claiming to be assessed, be naturalized, he must exhibit his certificate to the Assessor, if he designs to be naturalized before next election, he must exhibit bis certificate of declaration. i. Iu all cases whereany Ward, Borough. Township, or Election District is divided into two or more precincts, the Assessorshall note in all his assessments the precinct in which each elector resides, and make a sep arate return for each precinct to tbe County Commissioners, and when he receives back tbe duplicate copies, one of them is to be put up ou the election bouse of the preciDot. j. On the tenth day. preceding the second Tuesday of October, the Assessor shall “on the Monday immediately following,” re turn to the County Commissioners the names of all persons assessed by him since bis former return, noting the observations and explanations before specified, and it shall not be lawful for any assessor to as sess any tax within ten days next preced ing the second Tuesday of October. k. Assessors have power* to a<*cniDistor oaths, aud are to be paid by the County Commissioners for the time necessarily spent in performing the duties imposed by tbe act, 11. Tbe County Commissioners) have va rious duties to perform under the Registry law, but as they have counsel to advise them, it is uot necessary to set fortu their duties in this exposition. 111. As to the election officers. They are to open the polls between the hours of six aud seven, A. M., ou tbeday of election. Before six o’clock in the morning of second Tuesday of October they are to receive from tbe County Commissioners the registered lists of voters and all necessary election blanks, and they are to permit no man to vote whose name is not on said list, unless he shall make proof of his right to vote, as follows.: 1. The person whose name is not on tbe list, claiming the right to vote, must pro duce a qualified voter of tire district to swear iu u written or printed affidavit to the resi dence of the claimant in the district for at least teu)days next preceding said olection, defining clearly where the residence of Ibo person was. 2. The party claiming the right to vote shall also make an affidavit, Blaling to (he best of bis knowledge aud belief where and when he was born, tbut he is a citizen of Pennsylvania and of the United States, that be bas resided in the State one year, or, il formerly a citizen therein and removed therefrom, that he bas resided therein six months next preceding said election, that he haH not moved into the district for tbe purpose of votiDg therein, that be bas paid a State or County lax within two years, which was assessed at least ten days before the election, and tbe affidavit shall slate when and where the tux was assessed and paid, and the tax receipt must be produced uuless tue affidavit shall state that It has been lost or destroyed, or tbut he received none. 3. If the applicant he a naturalized citi zen be must, in addition to the foregoing proofs, state in his affidavit when, where, and by wbat court he was naturalized, and produce his certificate of naturalization. 4. Every person, claiming to be a nator alized citizen, whether on the Registry list, or producing affidavits as aforesaid, shall be required to produce his naturalization certificate at the electon before voting, ex cept where he has been for ten years consecutively a voter in the district where he offers to vote; and on the yote of such person being received, the election officers am to write or stamp the word “voted” on his certificate with tbe month and year, and nootber vote can be cast that day in virtue of said certl Qcate, except where sons are on titled to vote upon the naturalization of their father. 5. If the person claiming to vote who is not registered Bhall make an affidavit that he is a nativo born citizen of the United States, or if born elsewhere, shall produce evidence of his naturalization, or that he is entitled to citizenship by reason of his fath er’s naturalization, and further that he is between 21 and 22 years of age, and has re sided in the State one year, and in the elec tion district ten days next preceding the election, he shall be entitled to vote though ho shall not have paid taxes. IV; As to the voters. 1. Any qualified citizen of tbe district has a right to challenge any voter, though bfs name be on tbe regis try list, and tbe Election Board are requird to receive tbe proofs publicly, and to admit" or reject tbe vote, according to evidence. 2. On the petition or five or more citizens ot tbe county, statiDg under oath that they believe that frauds will be practiced at tbe election anout to be held in »dy district, it shall be tbe daty of the Coart of Common Pleas, or of a Judge thereof, to appoint two Judicious, sober and intelligent citizens to act as overseers of said election, who are to belong to different parties; except where 1 both inspectors belong to the same political NUMBER 25 party, and then the overseers are to betaken from the opposite political party, and these overseers are to have the right to bo present with the officers of election, to keep a list of voters, to challenge voters, anil generally to perform the same duties as Inspectors. The act Is full of penalties and forfeitures; but as these are to be enforced by courts of justice, It i 9 not necessary to set them forth for tbe guidance of assessors, election offi cers and voters. A popular electiou will be very difficult if all the provisions of the law be strictly enforced. Indeed, It Is noteaey to see bow election officers are to find time to receive the ballots of qualified voters in some precincts, if they investigate thor oughly ail the issues that may be raised before them ; and when it is considered that all tbe local elections are thrown upon tbe general election, and that separate ueketß are to be voted for State, county, township, and municipal officers at tbe same time that judicial questions are to be investiga ted and decided, it is appareut that many citizens will be liable to lose their chance to vote unless they are vigilant and yote early. Every man should see for himself that he is registered, taxed, and, if ho is a natural ized foreigner, that he is provided with bis proper papers. The law will bear, us it was designed to do, very heuvily ou natu ralized citizens. It creates ull possible ob structions to their exerciso of the right of suffrage and nothing but vigilance and perseverance ou tbeir part can secure their rights. “Tbe price of liberty is eternal vigilunee. D. R. RANDALL, Chairman of the Stuuding Committee of Luzerne county. Attest: A. B. Hotchkiss, Sec'y. An Cninltlffuted Scoundrel, The St. Louis Democrat says that a few days ago-a widower from Memphis look rooms in a fushiouable bonnling-house m that city. He was a man of pleasing ap pearance and winning ways, lie told the landlady that be had many troubles tryiug to keep house and raise two children with out a partner. The lady gave him all her sympathy, and recommended a wile. The widower thought the lady's daughter man ifested all the qualities he could desire, and he was allowed an interview. In halt ou hour the young lady consented to become a mother to the two sweet babes. A priest was sent for, the marriage ceremony was performed, and the very happy couple crossed the river to come to ibis city on the cars, but unfortunately too late for them to take the early train, and they were under the disagreeable necessity of remaining over night In East St. Louis. They took a room at the Shermun 1 louse and remained all night. Next morning, alter breakfast, the husband came suddeuly into the pres ence of Ills bride, holding in his hand a tel egraphic despatch, which ho handed to iter, requiring his immediate preseiico in linn nibul, Missouri, where business ol impor tance awnited hitn. ’ Of course, there was no alternative but that of leaving his now made bride. So he handed her the snug littlosuin of live hundred dollars in shining gold, and telling her to go to her mother and remain with her till his return—which would be a very short lime—left her in tears, but full ol faith in his truth and worth The five hundred dollars allowed ho wun all right—there was no getting around that, she thought; but alas, it proved to beeouu terfeit. The lady tbinku “there is some mistake'’ about it, and, says Uic'St. Louis paper, has now bceu wailing several days for the returu of her husband without a word from him ; uud while her friends are of the opluiuu that he will never return, uud tbutshe bus been Imposed upon by a villain, she lives in hope that he will come to her and make her happy. A Fearful FJiflit. Notloogsince a quarrel took place be tween two convicts while on their way to the quarries, with a gang from the prison under charge of guards, which resulted in a desperate fight with knives. Both tbe combuiauts were wounded,aud one of them so severely that he died on the following day. But ’he bloodiest affray yet oceured on last Tnursdny. As the convicts were sil ling down to dinner a quarrel occurred be tween two large and poweriui men. A few words pussed, when both parties drewlorth large, sharp pointed knives, uud a most terrific and deadly struggle ensued. They fought the entire length of two of the long tables, stubbing and striking ulternatoly, and were not separated until they hud bo gun to fuil from the loss of blood. The floor und tables were bespattered with blood, and tbe scene was one long to be remembered. They were both taken to the hospital, and one of them expired in five minutes. His body exhibited no less than half a dozen fatal stabs. The other was dangerously wounded, bnt survives yet. An inquest was held over the body of the deud man by Coroner Reese, Dut the jury couidnnt agree upon a verdict. This case will probubly come before the grand jury. Such is tbe condition of affairs existing at present in the Illinois State Penitentiary. There is no sort of discipline. The convicts are allowed a free license to do as they please. They knock down the guurds at pleasure, and commit murder among them selves. And, what is unheard of in prison discipline, more than one-half of the con victs ure armed with knives and murder ous weapons. This being tbe case, iuopen revolt and murder of scores of innocent men is momentarily expected. When we remember that there are nearly twelve hun drod desperate men confined in the peni tentiary, lor crimes of various grades, und that more than oue-half of them are armed with deadly weapons, we cannot avoid trembling at the consequences which may be momentarily expected.— Joliet {111.',) 3ig7ial. Explorntloiift lu Africa by n Woman. Though English explorers of the interior of Africa have managed to engross the chief share of public attention, Germany has a number ofenthusiastic and intrepid travel lers engaged in the work of peuetratiug and describing the hitherto hidden recesses of the African continent. Among them are Gerhard Kolfs.Fraulino AlexundriDe Tinne (a young lady from Holland, who took pnrt in aGerman expedition to Nutra),and Dr. NachtigalJ, who are exploring Central Africa, with Tripoli as a base of operations, aod Carl Maueh, who is pursuinggcograph ical discovery in South Africa. The three first named recently had a reunion at Trip oli, aud then started off upon journeys into tbe interior In different directions. Fruuline Tinne is exceedingly rich, by no means ugly, and for years has k*d a wandering life on the “ black continent,” braving and outliving dangers to which strong men havo succumbed. On one of her expeditions up the White Nile, In an attempt to communicate with Speke and Grant, her mnthet, her unit!, and two wait ing maids lell victims to the African cli mate. In tlie curly part of the present year she made a two months' journey to Moorsook, in Fezzan. Site travels quite leisurely, as if she were on a European tour. Having au Immense loriuno at her disposal, sfie has a refeily princely train, iter caravan consisting of more than fifty persons aud seventy camels. All her fol lowers, with oneexception, are either Arabs or negroes, aud she herself dresses like an Arab lady. She is looked upon by the Arabs with the greatest respect, and they call her “ lieut-er Key,” that Is “ (Queen's Daughter.” Her long sojourns and travels in the Orient have produced in her n total abhorrence of Europoun habits, and she Is embittered against every thing European, Ou ber lust Journey she would not even carry her watch, or allow her servauts to take theirs; but took instead an Arabian sand-clock or hour-glass, with which she mauages to keep her time by the aid oftwo negroes, who watch tbe instrument day and night, She refuses to write about her journeys, and does not contribute much to the lucreaso of geographical knowledge, having no scientific person in her tram. Rut sho Is a greut lovorof botany, u zealous collector of plants, and lias a number of camels loaded solely with blotting paper, and an immense collection of plants. This labor of hers promises to be very valuable, as she is likely to bring home important contributions to botanic science. At lust accounts she was at Moorsook, where she would stay some months, milking exeur sloos into the surrounding country. She Inteuds to proceed southward to liornou, and to relnriLover Kordofan aud Egypt—a task which Africati travellers tbmk she •annot accomplish. Arrest of Filllbnsterw. New York, June 17. The Cubnn gentlemen, who havo been fitting out filibuster expeditions from this port, have at length been made to realize that ** we have a Government.” as well as certain neutrality laws, which it does not intend to have violated with Impunity. The Graud Jury of tbe United States Circuit Court having iound true bills or indictment against Jose Morales Leinus, President of the Junta, and Joss M. Basora, .John LI. Lamar, Joso Mora, Col, Wm. C. O'Ryan, Francisco Feuser and Mariano Alvarez (members of the same organization), war rants were issued by Judge Blalchford for tbeir arrest. These wero served last even ing and this morning. “ President” Lem us voluntarily put in an appearance, and gave bail in tbe sum of $lO,OOO. Ryan was taken into custody while standing at tbe corner of Broadway and Bieecker streets. Mora was found at bis residence, 235 east Thirteenth street. These and tbe rest ot tbe party gave the necessary bonds to appear for trial, wnereupon they wero set at liberty. This step has taken tbe “ friends of free Cuba” by surprise, and the immediate effect of ;it will probably be to pot an end to one or two expeditions that expected to get away between now and Sunday next. Tbe excitement In filibuster circles this afternoon is in tense,and among other stories circulated Is one to tbe effect that tbe U. S. officers bad Spanish spies along with them when making tbe anests. Hon. Dwlgbt Townsend la tbe bondsman for tbe whole party, HATE Ot ADVbBTIMaW. Bnsnrsn AsyintTttmcEN'Eß, 912. a .year pt-r quftre often lines; Its per year-for escb ad ditional aqnare. RUIEsTATJ! Ad veßTim *o, Wo.uu O line II r the ant, and 6 cents for each subsequent in sertion. Gkiouial Advertising 7 cents a line lor ihe first, and 4 cents for each sutheqaeut Inser tion. Bpxcial ITotioxs Inserted lu Local Column 15 cents per line. Special Notices preceding marriages and deaths, 10 cents per line for first insertion' and 6 cents for every subsequent loserUoDjJ Legal and oth r b notices— Executors' i&e Administrators' aottoea,2.so Assignees’ notices .. 2.GQ Auditors* notioes 2.00 Other “Notices, 'ton lines, or less, Z three times,.. 1.50 The Great UcCoole—Alleu Prize Fljjhf— Allen strikes a Foul Blow, nmi Btccoole Declared the Winner—Fenri'nl •right ing. St, Louis, Jane 15.—Tho fight botween Mike McCoole and Tom Allen took place to day ou Foster’s Island, about twenty miles down the river. Jerry Dooovan and Tom Kelley acted as seconds for McCoole, and Butt Riley, of New York, and Sher man Tburstou for Allen. Jack Looney, of Sr. Louis, was umpire for McCoole, and Eph Holland, of Cincinnati, for Allen. Mo* Kinney was chosen referee. Both men pre sented h fair appearance, but Allen much the best. McCoolo’s friends wero much disappointed at his condition, and ho being fat showed Rlgns of unskilful training. E NTH RING THE RING. Tho men eutered the ring at a quarter to 2 o’clock, but tbe fighting did not commence until some time after. McCoole won the choice of ground, and offered to bet Allen $2,000 that he would win tbe light. Allen made a speech, saying he was an English man, had uo money, and could uot uccept McCoole's oflor, but usked for fair play. The men then went towork with tho fol lowing result: THE FIGHT. Round I—The men approached each other cautiously, but with confidence.— Thero were a few exchanges, and then nas ty hitting ut close quarters. Finally Me* Code planted a heavy blow near Allen's eye, knocking him down. First knock dowu and first blood claimed lor McCoole, although blood appeared on both faces. M'COOLK STOCK GOOD. Round 2—Terrific blows in rapid succes sion on each other’s faces, resulting finally in favor of McCoole. A DESPERATE STRUCK l I.l! Round 3—The men eyed each other with the ferocity of gladiators, aud aftor a lew severe blows they clinched and fell to gather. The struggle caused luterw ex citement, and McCoole's Iricnds realized that the giaut had met a man worthy of his steel. CAUTIOUS FIGHTING AND WILD KM'm: Round I—McCoole came to the scratch with his face bleeding profusely from a ter rible gash under life right oyo. Allen fought ouutioufdy, evidently husbanding his strength. McCoole got in heavily on Allen’s ribs, and the latter went down to avoid another sockdollager. Tho wildest excitement now began to prevail at Hu* seeming chuuge in the prospects uf tin* lii-lit. M’COOT.K COVERED WITH HLO.»n, Round s—Heavy lighting throughout.- There were deeperulu exchanges, dining winch Torn ndmlulHtored two or throe ter rific blows on Miko’sl'acp, which hoeniod to be a mass of blood from lon-head to chin. Uo had terrible gashes under both e\i*s, and his face was horribly disfigured. Tho combatants clinched, ami alter a desperate struggle both went down together mar iho ropes. The rouud was decided in fcivor of Allen. ALLKN DANCINtI AttOUNP MVoOLI Round d—Heavy bitting. Allen soi-mod to bo the Iresliest of (lie two, anil looked very complacent, dancing uround his op ponent with ease. Alter some sharp bitting, ibd round resulted in Ids favor. mE giant's stock down. Round 7—McCoole presented a forlorn nppearauce, and was not very rapid, in r*«- sounding to time, Allen looked iresh and cheerful- After some exchanges of a not very satisfactory character to McCoole, Allen decided to go to grass In order m es capo another of those terrific blows I'rsm the giant's sledge hammer. TIIK GIANT'S PuTATO THAI* STMT Round B—The backers of McCoole uig*-d him to make short work of his opponent, but in vain, for the prestige of the giant was rapidly being demolished before Hie superior skill aud tactics of ins antagonist. Mike struck out widely with hi-* right, but 31 his mark, his oppouent lighting on talo trap with terrific effect McCook* ed terrific punishment in lids lound, and it became evident that tho fiuht would come to a speedy termination; tho giant being partly knocked off hta puts, whh-h ended the round. Alleu looked bland and serene at the close. tub giant's eyes goufed. TheNxntu and Last Round—Both men were alow in responding to the call, tii<* noise and excitement being intense. Tito c tnibatauts upproached euuh other and en gaged at very close quarters. In n fo>v seconds they clinched and rolled over sido by side in close eonfiict, while both were bugging Mother Earth, Allen placed his hands on the eyes of McCoole, ami was gouging them desporuloly when the cry of “foul ’’ was raised from McCoole’s cornor. the decision of the referee The rope was cut, and the wildest excite ment prevailed for a few minutes, but tho crowd soon after dispersed lowurd lint boat. The referee was afraid to give Ins decision. Several pistols were presented ut his head, but he refused to decide tho matter until he reuched St. Louis. It is understood that ho decided in favor of Mc- Coole. Allen out-fought McCoole nil the way through, and to all appouruucos would havo won the fifcht, If ho had been allowed to proceed. McCoole was much blown and badly punished, and wus iu rcuiity whipped. The fight lusted about twenty minutes. St. Lours, Juno 15.—Tbe steamer Louis ville, with the prize fighting party on board, arrived hero this evening. It is tbe general opinion that there *vus neithor a foul blow struck nor nny gouging done by Allen. The belief is McCoole’s Iriem h determined from tbe outset Unit Alleu should not win the fight nor got any mo ney. The second round was not in favor of McCoole, us previously reported, but Alleu punished ins antagonist very se verely, aud from that time it was evident McCoole was no match for Alien. St Loois, Juno Hi—At midnight last night McKinney—the referee—iu iho Me- Coole—Allon contest, made Iho following decision: St Louis, Juno 15.—1, Valentino McKin ney, give my decision in Iho late tight be tween McCoole and Allen, in favor <-f Mo Coole—there being a “jfoul ” committed by Aileu on McCoole In the lust roupd by gouging his eyes. [SIONED] VAI.KN TI N K MCKIN" N V. Y There Is a great deal of bitter feeling over the matter aud imprecations and recrimin ation are emitted from the friends of both parties. Charley Gallagher has challenged Tom Allen to fight for $l,OOO. In the ctiullenge Galiagbor recognizes Allen as the winner of the fight yeslotday, notwithstanding tin* decisiou ol tbo releree. All uccoui.ls pub lished scout at liie ideaof Allen committing a loul on M’Coole. A FATAL PltlZK FIGHT Tbo Donnelly.McGuire Flglit ••Domicll.t .Strikes n I>c<<lly Blow—-1 bo Murderer Breaks Tlirongh tlic Itlng uml Mscaprs. Syracuse, Juno 15.—A terriblo alfulr happened on the bauks of Cayuga Luke on Saturday. Two men, named Donnelly and McGuire, hud somo dispute with regard to their physical strength. Donnelly, who is a large, lieavily-built man, of no particular pugilistic skill, and frequently boa-led that bo was able to “lick” McGuire, who was u stout, wiry man, some thiriy pounds less than Donnelly. McGuire ha I a local reputation as a boxer. Each man had a crowd of friends, who angrily can vassed the strength of their favorites, and did everything in their power to bring about a light. At last the preliminaries wore arranged, and small stuns of money were staked upon the result. Tbo light took f-laco on Saturday afternoon ni Ogden's lock, on the west side of Cayuga lake Several hundred porsons were present. Seconds, referees, and an umpire wero chosen, JaDd the figbt began. The first round was a loug and a bloody one, but Donnelly was tlnully sent to grass. In the second round McGuire guyo Donnelly u terrific upper cut, and Dunnolly returned it by knocking McGuire into fits corner. In the third round Donnelly forced the lighting. McGuirosprang away from him, but was finaify knocked through llio ropes. The fourth round opened wim signs of fatigue on the part of McGuire. Donnelly punished him severely. The fifth round opened with the closing ofoue of Donnelly’s eyes. McGuire closed in with him, and threw him heavily. Thesixth, seventh and eighth rounds were marked by similar re sults. At tbo beginning of the ninth round Donnelly, who bad been considerably blown, appeared to catch bis second wind. After some fibbing, be struck McGuiro a powerful.blow on the left temple. McGuiro dropped to the ground like n bur of lead, gasping twico, und died. Dou nelley gazed at the corpse with bloody eyes, and cried, “My God, I have killed him. Ob, Jimmy, apeak to ine.” His friends urged him to fly. An alarm war* raised. It was said that the Sheriff's offi cers were approaching. Donnelly drew on bis coat, broke though the ring, aud fled like a deer. Ho has not since been seen, und it is said be is now iu Canada. Dedication of tbe Gettynbnrg; Natlonnl Monument. GFTTYSBURO.Jone lti.-'The BoardofMan agers of the tiddlers’ Nationul Ceuietry, through its committee of Arrangements, respectfully invite all the soldiers who were lu the Battle of Gettysburg, and the military, municipal and civil organizations of tbe country, und tbe citizeus generally, to participate in tbo ceremonies of the ded ication of the monument on tbefirat of July. Senator Morton will deliver tbo oration, Bayard Taylor the poem und Henry Ward Beecher the prayer. D>vid Wills, Chairman Committee of Arrangements. Tbe Secretary of tbe Treasury has order ed the Assistant Treasurer at New York to make bis purchase of bonds for tbe last week of this month on Tuesday, tbe 29th idbL He has also ordered the pnrebase of $620,000 in bonds, in addition to tbe regular million, to make up the proportionate amonntoftheainklngfund required by law.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers