®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
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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.