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u ALL IN WELL.**
In memory of Snntc B. WUmcr.by Ml » Fmma
V. Wilton, 0/ pattern, Pa.
y pg all Is well; no suffering now
Shall ever cloud horsatntly brow;
A o'own 01 life, a Heaven o! love,
A mansion long prepared above,
Are all bar gain.
How often loving eyes have wept
Whe.i death's cold wave still cio?er crep*;
How often dying m pe grew bright
■When banished seemed the gloomy night.
With all Its pain.
But, when the Father's call was heard
No fear was hers when came the word,
No startled gaze, no anguished cry
A glorious galti was hern to die.
b b , With God her all.
Yes, "all is well.” for Heaven has olalmed,
Auo'her of Its dour rodeemed ;
Her own sweet word* come back to cheer.
Tho hyarts that sorrow for her here.
*• All, all is well!”
itUsceUancmts. ~
Behind a Sofa.
I like to ureep away into corners and
hide myself with the fold of a curtain,
or half-open door, or behind one of the
painted fire-screens, or in the
shudow of the tallest furniture. There
I have «Mld little fancies all to myself,
and wish thiugsand dream things which
nobody knows anything about, ror I
tuu different from all the rest; my
parents are lull and handsome, and
Louise is the prettiest girl 1 ever saw.
Then my brother Harry, who was kill
ed In the Indian Mutiny, was like a
prince In a fairy story, so brave and
beautiful. But I! I am small and feeble.
I cannot run or wrestle, and there la
something growing on my shouldera
which keeps me from standing straight,
and they call me deformed. I shall
never grow any more; strangers think
me nine or ten years old, but when
I count the years from the date In the
family Bible, I 11 nd 1 urn sixteen. Peo
ple always speak kiudly to me, with a
great pity in their eyes, and once in a
v/hilo I pity myself, but notofteu. I
like to be this queer little ugure. Louise
is like tiio lovely ladies in iegauds aud
ballads, and I am like the Imps aud
dwarfs ; when 1 read about them I look
at myself in the mirror, aud make
grimaces, and whirl' over on one hand
and then on iho other, till Louise looks
dibtre-ned and begs me to stop. Beiug
whai I am, of course I don’t often go
anywhere, okcopt in summer when we
leave town; ho I romn all over the
house, and read, and lie with my eyes
shut for day-dreams, and merry aud
happy almost all the time. i wish I
were only six inches high, what fuu 1
would have in the world ! Then when
we are in the country, i could ride on
the birds’ banks, and down in the woods
I could sit astride of the great lush toad
. stools, and drink from acorns cups,—or
by the sea shore 1 fancy I could lauuch
n naughtilus and ’sail away like any
grim littlo sprite. However, tu be four
feet high has its advantages.
When Harry wai wouuded, and lay
iu the hospital, knowiug he must die,
he wrute a lung letter to my father aud
mother, full of grief, and comfort, too ;
and then he told them a tiling which
surprised them greatly, llow he was
engaged to marry a girl in a town Iu
which they had beeu quartered. How
sweet and lovely she was, and how
desolate she would be now; aud he want
ed them to send for her, aud to love
her like a daughter. I clapped my
hands at that. I like to have people do
things to interest me ; aud the idea of
poor Harry having fallen in love ! For
I know very well what love is: I have
read the “i’aery tjueeu ” all through,
and a great many romaucee. Aud some
time ago I begun a sly watch oyer
Louise, on account, of a certaiu Philip
Rayburn comitur lo me house very ot
ton.
But about Harry’s lady-love. My
mother does not like strangers very
well, but being for Harry’s sake made
a difference, und my father urged the
plan. As for Louise, it seemed as if she
could not be eager enough for the com
ing of this Miss 1C in i 1 y Grey, she was,
so determined to cherish and love her.
For my part as home is all the real
world’there is for me, I like to have as
many characters iu it us possible. So
■when we heard that Kmiiy Grey was
coming-to Kuglaud, we iuvited her to
stay with us.
She would not come at once. She
was timid, itseemed ; orperhaps, Harry
beiug dead, she would rather avoid his
household. But Louise pleaded for her,
and wrote her a great many loving let
ters, and at last Kmiiy came.
Emily came. The first evening when
they brought her iulo the parlor, I was
lying under the table with my head on
a hassock, thiuttiug about the Old Man
of the Sea in the Arabian Nights, aud
wishing I had been one of the genii of
those days. But when Emily entered
I forgot everylhingelse, aud peeped out
from under the table cover at her.—
What a dainty little lady she was!
so pale and slight, she made me think
of frail, 11 uttering, yellow butterflies;
partly, I suppose, because of her yellow
curls, which fell over her shoulders
when Louise look away her hat and
shawl. Her eyes were wide aud pale,
aud blue, her cheeks were colorless, and
she had a frightened, deprecating way
c.f looking up, even after my stately
mamma had embraced her. But
Louise kept about her, aud cheered
her, aud lalked to her, till she began to
look brighter. Louise was so different, 1
such a darling “nut-brown mayde,”
with houest, darli rosy cheeks,
and lips always ready to smile., Louise
is my beauty. •
My father and mother weut out alter
a while, and Louise still talked to her
o-uest, while I lay very eontcndedly on
the floor, all curled up just where I
could see all that passed without turn
ing my head. Louise weut to an ctaycrc
at the other end of the room to get a lit
tle picture of Harry, and I idly kept
watch of Emily. That momentshe in
terested me ; her wide, pale eyes Darow
ed and grew iulenst*, she cast a quick,
furtive glance after Louise, and around
the room, curving herlitile white neck,
and a strange, bright smile flitted over
her lips. 1 thought instantly of Coler
idge’s Geraldine with the and
just for fun 1 lifted the table-cover and
put my head aud shoulders out so that
she could see me. I am afraid I grinned
at her. She shrieked aud flung her
hands before Iter face. Louise came
ruuning back, and asked what had
frightened her.
“Oh!” she whispered, “such a dread
ful face peered at me from under the
table! There it is again !” Aud she
shuddered. , , , ,
“Charles!” exclaimed Louise, look-
around, “come out, you naughty
boy, aud speak to Miss Grey. It’s only
my brother Charlie, our pet. He is
full of freaks. Oue never knows where
he is. ... ..
,Emily Grey looked at me like the
saddest aud .veeleSHittle creature that
• ever lived, as 1 up to her, and
said, in a low, musical voice, “ So this
is dear Charlie. I have heard of him.
We will bs friends, won’t we?”
“ Will you tell me stories? ” I asked.
She laughed merrily.
“ Yes, heaps of them, child.”
“Did you love Harry ?” I asked again.
She shivered at that, aud looked im
ploringly at Louise.
“Charlie, you are unkind,” said
Louise, reproachfully.
“Well then, I won’t ask her if 'fliie
loved Harry I’ll go off aud read my
book of hobgoblins.”
“O no! dou’t be vexed, Charlie,
saidEinlly, with greatsweetness. Stay
by me, and I will tellyouastory. bo
I stopped, and she told me a senseless
story of two girls who went to school.
When I saw it wasu’L going to amount
to anything, I started to leave her.
“ I don’t like that,” I said. ‘ I like
witch stories.” •
“Ah!” Bhe replied, smiling, “per
haps this will be better.” And then she
told me a story of an old witch who had
a throne down in the slime of the sea,
with a stjftug of bones arouud her neck,
and a toad perched on each shoulder.
And this witch bought souls, and gave
people power over hearts in exchange.
“That was a good story!” I said at
tll “ And now, dear Charlie, go to bed,"
Louise directed. So I kissed my pretty
sister’s hand and glided off.
Emily very soon learned to be per
fectly at home with us. She seemed to
wind heisqlf about the hearts of my
father and mother, and as for Louise, —
Louise would have walked over burning
plough shares to do her service. I liked
her about half the time, and the other
half I felt like teasing her. She would
-'growso white and terrified when Isprang
out at her from behind curtains or doors.
More than ever I wished that I had fairy
<El )( Lancaster frtOginM
VOLUME TO
power, to change myself into all eortß of J
shapes,—a tiny flea to hop into her ear, 1
a yellow snake to twine myself with her 1
curls, a mouse to run over her pillow, J
or an elf in her desk to open her letters! .
She was such an absurd coward. But
being four feet high and not a fairy, I .
could only find my wicked pleasure in
annoyiDg her by constant surveillance J
and sudden starts. She seemed afraid
to be angry with me, and never exposed
me. Perhaps her conscience made her
uneasy for my dear innocent-hearted
Louise never was startled or terrified by
her dwarf Charlie’s tricks.
0, slender, willowy Emily, yellow
haired Emily, my brother’s darling!
why were you not all Louise dreamed
you, pure-fiearted and true, sorrowing
and loving ? My father treated her as
another daughter, and declared she
should never leave us; my mother grad
ually came to consult her exquisite
taste in all little matters which Louise
formerly decided. And at last they even
insisted on herputtlng off the badge of
her fidelity to Harry,—her mourning,—
despite the sad little shake of her head
in remonstrance.
“fehe shall not make a nun of herself,”
exclaimed my father.
“ My heart will be in mourning all
the time,’’she whispered to Louise; and
Louise kissed her.
Spring came, and our mother com
menced nouse-cleaning on a grand scale;
every room was visited, scoured, and
painted, and the furniture re-arranged.
How she made the Bervauts fly about!
Every one wished it well at an end ;
every one but me ; I found too much
fun In it. I rolled over on mattresses ;
made nests to curl myself up in among
heaps of blankets; revelled in hidden
relics brought to light; perched myself
on cupboard shelves; read Gulliver’s
Travels undisturbed in the pantry by a
Jar of sweetmeats ; and a dozen times
nearly tripped up our portly butler
as he was carrying loaded tmys up
stairs. When the raid extended to the
sitting-rooms, I found unanticipated
pleasure. The statuettes of bronze
and marble had always looked at
each other so unmoved from their dif
ferent corners that it provoked me. I
had read somewhere in a German story
of a house where the China figures of a
shepherdess and a chimney sweep v made
love to each other when no one was In
the room, and finally ran off together.
I was alwayß hoping something of the
kind might happen in ourart collection,
and now, when all the casts and figures
were set down in a crowd on the great
centre table, it really seemed as if they
could not keepsilence. At night, when
1 every one had gone to their rooms, a
whim seized me to creep softly down
stairs, and peep into tho drawing room
to see what was going on among the
brouzee and : marbles. The moonlight
lay across the table, and Clytle un
-1 changed never breathed or moved,
though a bronze Pan made mute music
' on his pipes before her, as motionless
as she. Fau9t did not kiss Marguerite ;
and Mercury, poised on one toe, did not
' catch at the chance to substitute the
other foot. Altogether tho assemblage
was a failure. Have tho fairies, then,
i never yet crossed the ocean from Ger
-1 many?
' There was a low hum of voices in the
1 kitebeu below ; so, disappointed in my
i miracle seeking, I thought I would slip
\ down stairs, and see what was going on
' bo late. The butler, the cook, and the
’ chamber-maid, each stood, candle in
’ hand, lingering over some dispute.
3 “ Well, leastways,” said the butler,
r “ Miss Emily have a very sweet man-
J ner, and that’s all I know.”
“ She have her own way, that’s whal
she have!” said the cook.
“Hum!” interrupted Kitty, “she
makes cold chills run over me. She's
windiog ’em all about her two little
fingers, and she has the evil eye for
certain. Mind you, she brings no
good!”
Next morning:, as I met Emily on the
staircase, I stopped her and looked
straight up at her face.
“ What’s the matter now, Charlie?”
she asked, with a toss of her yellow
curls.
“ I want to see you eyes ; please look
at me.” , ,
“What for?” Bhe demanded, with
out meeting my glance.
“ Kitty says you have the evil eye for
certain. What does she mean, Emily?”
I asked, mischievously.
“ I should think, Chariie, you might
know by this time that what servants
mean is not of the slightest impor
tance.” And she moved haughtily by
me.
A week after Kitty was dismissed.—
Louise pleaded for her in vain. She had
lived with us for six years, and I asked
my mother what fault' she had commit-
ted. , ,
“Emily has discovered her in some
dishonesty," mother said, quietly.' “I
don’t know whatfl should do without
Emily."
Evidently Emily was quite usurping
Louse’s place, but Lou didn’t seem to
mind, and loved her just as well. One
day I asked Lou if she wasn’t jealous.
She blushed brightly, and said, with a
shy smile, “Why, Charlie, if I should
ever be leaving home, you know, I
should feel so much better to have my
place filled, so that they would not miss
me!”
“ I should miss you! I should miss
you!" I exclaimed, clinging to her, and
half crying. She bent and kissed me.
“My darling boy, do you think I
should not take you with me? We
will never be parted, Charlie, I could
not bear any one to take my place iu
your heart!"
I suppose when she spoke of leaving
home, she was thinking of Philip Ray
burn, fori had heard several little hints
1 and whispers lately, which made me
pretty sure that some things were set
tled between them ; and he came to the
house oftener than ever.
"’When the reception rooms were all ar
ranged again.Jmy mother disposed of the
furniture differently, moving chairs
and tables aud sofas to quite different
positions, Emily advising her. One
great, richly carved sofa, with a high
antique back, she insisted should be
placed transversely across a corner.
i‘ It looks so much easier than to have
it stiff and straight by the side of the
wall," she said. I chuckled to myself,
for I foresaw a rare hiding place, which
might remain unsuspected for a long
time if I were careful; and the next
chance I had, when no one was in the
room, I collected a few things in that
corner for private delectation. I put .
the softest hassock there, and a Scotch
plaid to lie on, one of my little chloro*
form bottles which I keep to smell at
when I am nervous, and some of my
favorite books. Of course I could not
read in there, but just the laying my
hand or my cheek on a volume makes
it seem like a companion, and brings
its contents all into my mind. Such a
snug little trlaugle as I made of it sha
ded and secluded entirely by the high
back of ancient carving, and the only
light which could reach me there must
crawl along the carpet, under the da
mask and fringe. It was very satisfac
tory, and all my own secret.
Emily began to be invited every
where; under mamma’s chaperonage
society received her with open arms; I
bouquets and cards of invitation kept
our little waitress doing duty at all
hours, and gentlemen made calls of an
evening, Inquiring especially for Miss
Grey. My mother scolded her for re
ceiving them so coolly ; but, despite the
coldness, Emily infused some nameless
charm into her mannor which made
them call again and again.
It was during these days that Louise
and Philip had a falling out; why, I
did not know, but some trouble there
evidently was. Louise grew sad and
constrained, but made no confidant of
any one unless it was Emily. I would
have cut my right hand off at any time
to serve Louise, but she never asked me
to serve her.
One day I heard her say to Emily,
“ You see him when he comes this af
ternoon. /cannot. And O, make him
understand that I never could have
written those dreadful letters, and tell
him that I cannot see him till he has
i faith in me again. It would break my
heart to see distrust in his eyes. O Em
ily !” And my bonnie Louise bowed her
head and wept.
It cut me to the heart, and I was so
helpless to aid her! For the first time
in my life I regretted my peculiar phys
ique, for other brothers were expected
to defend their sisters, and did it; hut
what could I, a poor dwarf, do to bold,
athletic, handsome Philip Rayburn ?
I felt very ignominious, andcreptaway
to my corner and my chloroform be
hind the sofa for consolation, and there
fell asleep in my misery.
I awoke suddenly at last, hearing
voices. lam always on the alert, and
never startled into making a noise, so I
lay perfectly still and quiet to hear what
was going on. Emily Grey was talking
to Philip Eayburn in her characteristic,
low, sweet voice, and I coal'd imagine
ju?t bow her lovely pale face looked
with its great, sad blue eyeß, and her
yellow curls floating over her Bhoulders.
“It puzzles me so, 17 she said, hesi
tatingly ; “I cannot bear to believe that
Louise wrote them; and yet—what can
I believe, Mr. Bay burn ? Odo not say
you are pure of her guilt! ”
“Miss Grey/' said Philip, sternly,
“ your affection must not mislead you.
The letters were sent from this house,
and the writing is undeniably that of
Louise. Bhe is afraid to meet the one
she has so deceived and injured. Do not
let your kind heart excuse her too far,
Miss Grey ! ” ,
Emily’svoicetrembled asshe replied:
“ 0 Mr. Rayburn, I can Dot bear it! To
deceive you-you who are so true and
noble! Bhe could not, indeed, shecould
not! ” , __
Philip spoke in softer tones—“ You
pity me, Emily ?” The world is not all
false, then.”
A moment’s silence ensued. O, if I
could only have peeped out at them un
seen, for I certainly believe that Emily
bent her graceful head over Puilip’s
hand and wept upon it. I was fierce
with indignation, but perfectly collect
ed. Perhaps the dwarf could help his
darling, after all.
Presently Philip rose to go.
“ I suppose, then, we shall not see you
any more?” murmured Emily, plain
tively. How I hated that false, plain
tive murmur I
“Hardly again/’ he said gloomily.
“And yet, Emily, I shall not lose your
friendship. In ten dayß I will call and
inquire for you, and give into your
hands the letters which I have received
from Louise, and then you can return
them to her.”
Then he went. As the street-door
closed after him, Emily threw herself
down upon the sofa, and with her face
in the pillows, muttered very low, “I
love him, and I shall win him now.
And yet, his heart will never be really
mino. O cruel fate! Why was Louise
ever bom t.oßpoil the only love I ever
cared for?”
And she writhed upon the sofa in her
malice, till she seemed to me like some
creature possessed by a demon within,
which raved and tore. I lay hidded
away in my corner,
with a volume pressed to my cheek.
What was Emily plotting against my
sister? I began to believe her capable
of any Borgia scheme, and resolved to
spy upon her unremittingly, aud foil
herwherelcould ! How low I breathed,
lest she, so near me, should catch a
sound. Twilight shadows crept into
the room at leDgth, and in them she
floated away, and I presently emerged
from my lurking place. How I wished
I were an invisible gnome to chase her,
and haunt her, and find out all her
dark deeds! But I had to content my
self with smearing phosphorus all over
my face, and meeting her with a horrid
grin in the unlighted upper hall when
she came out at the ringing of the tea
bell. It did my very heart good to see
the white terror in her face as she
crouched back in a corner to escape me.
I had appointed myself a Nemesis to
punish her, but she did not know that.
I had noticed that wheD Emily went
out alone to walk without naming her
destination, she was always absent
three or four hours. And the next day
bringing au occasion of this kind, as
soon as she wad safely down the steps,
I went straight to her room and looked
all about it. The white bed, dainty
and pure, the drooping curtains, the
books, were all correct and maidenly
enough, but I was a detective for the
nonce, aDd I passed them carelessly. A
small desk-table fastened my attention;
I attempted to lift the lid, but in vain ;
it was locked. Still, the key, with a
blue ribbon attached, rested in the key
hole, and I tried to turn it to unlock
the desk, but I could not move it—the
wards did not fit. The key evidently
was not put there to help prying fin
gers. The next thing to do was to find
the right key, and to that end I glanced
curiously about. The recent reading of
some of Edgar A. Poe’s strange analyti
cal stories sharpened my perceptions
to painful keenness. I threw my
self down in Emily’s easy chair, and
leaned my head back in a position
I had often seen her adopt. Then I
narrowed my eyes aDd compressed my
lips as she did when thoughtful, think
ing that so, perhaps, my mind might
momentarily take the turn of hers, and
give me some insight into the mode of
concealment she would be likely to
practice. With my head thus thrown
back, my eyes naturally fell upon the
cornice above the long lace window
curtains, and I distinctly saw, half hid
by a projecting gilded grape leaf, a bit
of blue ribbon. Still keeping my fea
tures after Emily’s fashiou, the thought
suggested itself to me how natural it
would be to put blue ribbon on each of
the two keys, that a spectator might
never know that more than one was
used. Full of excitement, I sprang
from the chair, and taking the long gas
lighting rod which stood in the corner,
I reached up and dislodged the bit of
blue ribbon. As I expected, a key fell
with it to the door. With trembling
fingers I tried it in the lock ; it turned
easily, and I lifted the lid. That way
at last I discovered Emily’s treachery.
There on sheets of paper were words
and sentences carefully written and re
written dozens of times, in evident imi
tation of my sister’s hand. Cleverly
done too. I looked them over hastity,
and found beneath copies of two letters
purporting to be from Louise to Philip
Rayburn. I read them in a sort of de
lirious glee, for now I held the clew to
whole labyrinth in my hand. But
what base letters! In them Louise was
made to avow her falseness to Philip—
to confess that she never really loved
him—that ail had been a pretty farce to
conceal her passion for another; that
remorse had seized her, and a determi
nation to be honest at length ; so now
these letters begged him to set her free
and to keep her secret.
A shallow plot, indeed, which a few
straightforward words between the two
would have set right at once ; but
Louise was proud aud Philip pitiless.
Emily hazarded much, and had so far
won, depending on the pride and the
pitilessness. Then the handwriting!
It would have deceived my own parents;
but i_j j the cunuing dwarf—had
fathomed the whole, and held the proofs
-in my hand. Then curae the question,
what to do with them ? If I took them
away with me, she would discover the
loss at once, and take measures accord
ingly. Was the hour arrived for ex
posure? I thought not. I determined
to leave the papers, trusting to that
fatuous blindness which so often leads
criminals to retain the damning proofs
of their guilt. The justice of romances
suggested itself to my mind; you know
the true will is always hidden some
where undestroyed, the fatal letter al
ways found, the deed or certificate lost
for years, but not forever; and I felt
sure these letters would wait for me.—
Was I not the servant of Nemesis? So
I relocked the desk, lifted the true key
with its bit of blue ribbon to its hiding
place behind the gilt grape-leaf again,
and placed the false key with its bit of
blue ribbon also in the lock. Then I
crept away to think it all over.
In the hall I met my sweet, sad Lou
ise, with that new look of desolateness
in her face. I kissed my hand to her.—
She stopped instantly, and winding her
dear arms around my neck, softly,
“ You will always love me, won’t you,
Charlie?”
“ Yes, I will, and every one else shall
too !” I answered stoutly, at which her
smile was sadder than tears could have
been, and she passed on.
You may be very sure I kept close
watch of the yellow-haired Emily dur
ing the days which followed. Many a
lone revery of hers had me for a specta
tor, peering through the keyhole or the
crack of a door, or with one eye bent on
her from behind a curtain. I knew her
reveries meant mischief. One afternoon
my vigilance bad its reward. My moth
er asked Emily if she would get her
some violet silk when she went out,
and Emily answered, sweetly, “I
thought I should not go out this after
noon. I have a headache, but rather
than disappoint
Of course my mother interrupted her
with an assurance that she should not
think of letting her go. A little after,
I asked, just to see what she would say,
“ Will you buy me a little ivory skull
this afternoon, Emily, if I give you the
money > There’s a man down an alley
■two streets off who carves such things.”
‘ I’m not going out, Charlie,” she
answered shortly. _ , _
Under these circumstances I thought
it best to be on guard in the drawing
room, so went quietly down, climbed
LANCASTER PA. WEDNESDAY MORNING AUGUST 11 1869
over the back of the antique sofa, and
so down into my lurking place. There,
with that horrible, fascinating book,
"Frankenstein,” under my head, I lay
dreaming and waiting. Presently the
door bell rang, and Philip came, in
quiring for Emily; only Emily. I heard
her quick step on the staircase, and she
glided into his armB —coold it be that
it was into his arms ? A subtle,
instinct told me that it was so. Philip’s
voice was changed from the old light
tones and there was do tenderness in it,
though he called her “darling.”
“Here is this package,” he said,
“which I wish you to return to Louise
with my forgiveness. She will soon Bee
that her heartiessnsss has not destroyed
my happiness!” and he laughed bit
terly.
“Dear Philip!” murmured Emily’s
false, sweet voice.
“ Emily, you are tbe only true womau
I kuow, after all. My life shall be de
voted to you.”
“And you love me, Philip?” she
asked longingly.
“You know my love’s not worth
much; such as it is no#, you mayhaye
it, Emily,” and his tones were reckless.
“Let us have it over at once. Can you
be ready to-night at eleven ?”
“ Yes,” she answered, breathlessly,
will have a carriage here at that
hour. When the clock strikes, you
must come down to the door all ready.
You will find me there, and I will car
ry you away at once. A pleasant sur
prise to Louise, to morrow morning, to
find her lover so easily consoled! She
hardly knows how frequently we have
met.”
“Do not marry moonly from pique!”
said Emily, with a touch of sadness,
.which was real, I think.
* “I simply ask you, Will you marry
me, Emily?” was all hisauswer; and
Emily said “Yes,” without hesitation.
I did not want to come out and de
nounce them then and there; I had a
better plan: so Philip' weut at last, no
wiser than he came, and Emily fled to
her'room, full of her plots; whilst I
climbed up out of my ambush, and lay
down as any one else might on the sofa,
thinking my own thoughts. I wanted
those letters now —quick too —how could
I secure them? I oould think of uo
opportunity until tea-time, unless for
tune favored. Fortune did favorabout
an hour after, for a young lady in silk
and velvet came to call on Miss Grey.
As the servant hesitated, not having
received instructors, I called out from
the drawing-room, “ Kraily is at home;
she’s up in her room I’ll call her.”
So the young lady swept in and took
a seat. In high glee I went up to Emi
ly’s room and rapped on the door.
“Emily, there’s Flora McFlimsey
down in the drawing room to see you!”
“ Tell her I’m not at home, Charlie.”
“ O, but I can’t, Emily ; I’ve already
told her you were up stairs, aud that I
would call you.”
“ Then I suppose I must go down ! ”
she said, in a tone of vexation, and came
out, carefully closing and locking her
door after her. So much the better! I
knew another way to reach her room—
by going through my mother’s, aud my
mother had gone herself for her violet
silk, so there was no danger of being
waylaid. This plan succeeded, and I
stepped boldly into the pretty chamber,
where a subtle perfume of heliotrope
pervaded the air. Emily had laid out
all her dresses on the bed, and her trunk
was open. I wondered if she would
have the effrontery to send for it some
time. But my business was with letters,
not dresses, so I sought the little desk
table ; the true key was in the lock this
time, and in a moment I pbosesseii my
self of the fatal documents. How fortu
nate that Flora came just at that time,
for it might be that Emily was just
about unlocking that desk to destroy
the papers ! My heart beat fast with
excitement as I left the room again, by
the same way that I entered, and I has
tened to my own little den, a flight
above, and bolted the door after me.
Then I sat down and wrote a letter to
Philip Rayburn, telling him all I had
heard, and all I had done, enclosing the
sheets of paper as proofs. I felt very
manly at lust, so to vindicate my sister’s
truth ; and it made me smile to be able
to write that I expected him to apolo
gize fully to Louise, and after that uever
to darken our doors again. 1 finished
the letter, seuled it, coaxed the butler to
deliver it at once into Mr. Rayburn's
hands, and had ten minutes to compose
myself before Emily politely attended
her visitor to the door. Then she flew
up to her room again.
My spirits ran so high I oould hardly
keep from shouting my secret aloud. I
found Louise setting lonesomely in her
chamber, like “ Mariana in the mortal
grange," and I kissed her hand again
and again, telling her I would set every
thing right, while she looked at me
kalf-fr.ightened, and wholly puzzled.
Then I Imitated an Indian war-hoop at
Emily’s keyhole, and as it grew darker
lay in wait for her behind an open door,
and sprang out at her when at last I
heard her gliding step. I liked to see
her shrink and shudder. At tea she
was pale and thoughtful, while my
father and mother and Louise grew
kinder than ever, heaping her plate
with delicacies, and delighting to pet
her. But I took no trouble to pass her
anything but strawberry jam, which I
knew she hated.
The night clear—there were stars
in the heavens. After tea we all went
into the parlor, Emily played and sang.
andchatted,wltb now aud then a restless
glance at the clock on the mantlepiece.
At ten she said she would retire, and
bade us all “good-night.” That was
the signal for a general departing, and
before long I was going up stairs noisl
ly, so that Emily might hear me aud
think all were out of her way at last.
But no sooner had I slammed my door
than I turned again, and crept down
stairs quieter than any mouse, past all
the sleeping rooms, down to the draw
ing-room, and there I waited in the
dark. I always liked to stay in the dark,
imagining grotesque creatures in every
corner unseen, and there I lay on the
sofa very contentedly, hearing the clock
tick and my heart beat.
At last I became conscious by some
instinct finer than hearing, fhat Emily
was coming down from herroom. The
clock chimed eleven, and I began to
fear my plot would fail, for why was
there no word to me from Philip? How
softly Emily glided down, like some
impalpable presence ! She stood hesi
tating an instant on the lower stair,
when the door bell rang a peal which
startled all the sleepers.
I ran out with a shout. Emily would
have fled from me, but I caught her
hand and dragged her to the door,
which I opened. There stood Philip
Rayburn, his eyes ablaze with fierce in
dignation, grasping the fatal letters in
his hand. He held them up before Emi-!
ly; he compelled her to recognize their
meaning; then casting them ather feet
with a gesture of utter scorn, he strode
into the parlor, drawing me with him.
I was proud then, as I collected all my
four feet high dignity, and called him
to account. He did not notice my man
ner though, he was too full of wrath
and grief and contrite love. I almost
began to pity him at last, but remem
bered that would never do, so I told him
that I accepted his apologies, but he
must never insult us by his presence
again. That moment Louise came in
hurriedly, looking terrified andperplex
ed.
“Where is Emily, Charlie? Who
rang the bell, and why is the door
open ? O Philip."
“ I will go and find Emily,” I said.
“ I will leave you with Mr. Rayburn.
He has a confession to make to you,
Louise, and after that you will forbid
him the house!"
Emily was not to be found. I hunted
for her above and below, but she was
gone. The hall-door still stood open.—
She had fled away with her guilty con
science under the keen eyed stars. So
I went back to the parlor without her;
Louise and Philip were at the door.
“I will come early to-morrow," he
said, smiling brightly, and Louise
smiled brightly too.
“What! have you not forbidden him
the house?" I exclaimed.
“No, Charlie! That I cannot do!"
And with an astonishing lack of spirit
she let him fold her in his arms.
I have decided to have nothing more
to do with my sister’s love affairs or the
family dignity. My little part is play
ed, and now I will hide away 'behind
the curtain with my dreams of faries
and elfs.
The Chairman of the regular State Com
mittee of Texas has written to Mr. Clafiin,
chairman of the National Republican
Committee, asking him not to recognize
the Houston party, wbloh nominated Gen.
Davis for Governor. ,
1 Bar-Keeper for a Day.
HaviDg occasion to visltadistantsec
tlon of the Union a few years since, I
purchaised a through ticket for C ,
Snd was soon seated in a car already
well filled with passengers. The steam
Bebemuth was soon dragging us alone
at lightning Bpeed.
The Joint occupant of the seat which
I had selected was a man past the me
ridian of life, his hair well streaked
with gray. His easy deportment and
the few remarks which he addressed to
me on the ordinary topics of conversa
tion, at once bespoke the well-bred
gentleman. In the course of our con
versation he informed me that he was
a physician, and, glancing at the card
which he politely handed me, I at once
recognized the name as that of one of
our moßt famed practitioners. He had
traveled much; and being well read his
conversation was instructive and enter
taining in the extreme.
Time passed Bwiftly, and almost be
fore I was aware of it the train had stop
ped at L , to lay over fifteen min
utes for refreshments. My new found
friend and myself alighted from the
cars and entered the restaurant located
alongside the depot. As the day,was a
very warm one, and the riding very
dusty, I called for some light beverage,
and invited my companion to join me.
While we were lmbibingour ‘ eoblers, 1
I was much amused at the bar keeper s
manner of concocting “ fancy drinks,”
tossing the contents from one glass to
another with marvelous precision and
dexterity. The dootor noticed my ab
straction, and remarked, in a tone ot
seriousness:
“ I once tended bar, myself.”
I was about making some answer in
dicative of surprise, when the bell ad
monished us that the train was about to
start. We hastily regained our seats,
and he related to me his experiences as
“amemberof the bar,” in the following
words:
“ Many years ago, when I was young
and poor, I found myself in the
city of New York, friendless and alone.
The sole passport which I possessed to
fame and fortune was the diploma in
my pocket, which had justbeen award
ed to me at the Medical College.—
My father, a resident or town, died
poor. The sole legacies which I inher
ited were a good name and a liberal ed
ucation, which he had beßtowed on me
from his limited income.
‘I hired modest apartments with
board, in a somewhat retired portion of
the city, and displaying an unpreten
tious sign on the door of my domicil,
patiently awaited for such business as
chance might throw in my way. Week
after week rolled on, but I soon found
out that patients are seldom willing to
trust their cases in the hands of young
and unkuown practitioners. At last I
found myself without a dollar, and sev
eral weeks in arrearage for board.
Something I had to do , employment of i
some kind I must obtain. I answered
advertisement after advertisement, for
such positions as I considered adapted
to my tastes and qualifications, but all
to no purpose. One morning my eye
caught an advertisement for an a-*Ut
ant bar-keeper in afirst class bottl—the
occupation was as little congenial to my
tastes as it was repugnant to my feel
ings ; but it was a choice between work
of some kind, or ,beggary. The adver
tisement laid stress upon the fact that
'the applicant must be a man of gentle
manly address.' This was about the j
Bole qualification which I possessed for I
the position. _ j
" At an early hour I applied at tho i
Diace indieati Jn the advertisement,
and franmy ata..>d my poalll,„ l- ll.«
proprietor ; he at once made mean offer,
and though not a very brilliant one for
a college graduate, who had devoted
three years to the study of a profession, j
yet, having fresh in my mind my land- ,
lady’s peremptory demand for a quid
pro quo , with an intimation that if it
was not forthcoming I must find other
quarters, which ‘ other quarters ’ would
have been the sidewalk, or the poor
house, I at once accepted the proposal,
mentally offering up a prayer that some
fortuitous circumstance might Bpeedily |
change my lot, and permitof my follow
ing my legitimate vocation.
“ The first day woreon to a close with
the usual highly moral and intellectual
episodes in the daily routine of the retail
liquor business, but, as I had no friend
in the great city, I was spared the hu
miliation ot commiserating remarks on
the part of sympathizing acquaintances.
It was getting close on to midnight, and
the patrons of the establishment had
dropped off, one by one, when two
young men entered the place arm in
arm. The elder of the two was evidently
laboring under intense mental anxiety,
and his unsteady step showed but too
plainly that he had been drinking deep
ly. The younger one was a mere strip
ling, and the striking resemblance
which they bore to each other, at once
proclaimed them to be brothers. The |
younger of the two was evidently en
deavoring to soothe and cheer his senior
brother. I heard him say as he entered :
*' ‘ For God’s sake, Jack, don’t take
on so about it! Perhaps it’s not so bad
after all.’
“The other answered, as his frame
shook with emotion:
“ ‘ Lost, boy ! I tell you every cent is
gone to h 1. You are a beggar, and
your brother has made you one.’
“The conversation went on a few
moments, and in an excited undertone
on the part of the oldest brother. The
lad appeared to yield to the other's im
portunity to take a‘last drink,’ evidently
with the hope of somewhat quietiDg his
almost phrenzied companion.
“The two came up and ordered ale.
While I was drawiDg it off, the younger
of the two stepped to the end of the
counter to get a cracker, and as I placed
the two glasses on the bar, neither of
which were quite full, the remaiuing
brother took a powder from his vest
pocket and poured it in his glass. I
asked him what he was about. He an
swered : .
‘“Oh, it’s only a nervine. I have
been on a week's spree, and must steady
my nerves.’
“ The explanation seemed quite na
tural, and disarmed my suspicious at
once. At this moment the younger
brother returned, and noticing that the
glasses were not filled, said to me:
“ ‘ Barkeeper, fill the glasses entirely.
Brother and I will then go home.’
•‘I immediately took them off the
pouuter and filled them to the brim ;
but in handing them back, I inadvert
ently changed the glasses. I was about
to rectify my mistake, when a party of
jewelers came in boisterously demand
ing my immediate presence at the oth
er eud of the counter. Ere I could
return, the brothers had" emptied their
glasses to the dregs. As It was now too
late, and knowing that the nervine
would produce no bad results, I said
nothing but took the proffered bill, and
returned the change: The brothers took
a couple of chairs, and seating them
selves, were soon engaged in earnest con
versation. As the place was now desert
ed, save by thepe two occupantß and |
myself, I had time to observe them more
closely. All of a sudden the boyish face
assumed alivid expression. Hiafeatures
twitched convulsively, and in another
moment he fell to the floor, appareutly
a corpse. His terror-stricken brother
appeared paralized with horrifledamaze
meDt. To spring over the bar was the
work of an instant. I seized the survi
vor by the arm, and shaking him with
rude force, shouted in his ear :
“ ‘ Wretched man ! what did you put
in the glass which I first handed you V
“ He answered, mechanically:
*• ‘ Strychnine.’
“ Not a moment was to be lost. I re
collected that fortunately I had about
me a pocket-case, which contained the
necessary antidotes, which I at once
proceed to administer.
“ The elder brother now roused to a
state of conscious guilt, exclaimed in
accents of despair and remorse:
‘“Great God! my darling Will has
been first ruined, and then murdered by
his unfortunate and guiity brother.’
“ He knelt by the side of the prostrate
youth, and supporting his head, begged
me in piteous accents to save the life of
his only brother, calling on Heaven to
spare him from the crime of fratricide.
The prayers of the repentant man were
heard, and the innocent victim of a
suicidal mania (for there is not a single
case of suicide where reason has not been
unseated from her throne, though ‘there
be method in the madness,’) was soon
sufficiently racovered to allow of his
removal in a carriage. At the earnest
solicitation of the now grateful J , I
accompanied the brothers to their home.
All night I watched by the side of my
patient, whose fate still hung in an al
most evenly poised balance. I carefally
administered, from time to time, such
medicines as the case required, and
never shall I forget the mental agony
>•* r 2 -y
of the man who had bo nearly stamped
upon his brow the brand of Cain. He
wept and prayed by turns. Again and
again would he cover his young bro
ther's brow with kisses, and in accents
of sincere and heartfelt penitence, in
voke forgiveneass. The sick boy an
swered with a silent pressure of the
hand, and the fond look of fraternal af
fection, which beamed from his deep
biueeye9, told more plainly than words
could express, that all, all, was forgiven
When morning dawned I bad tbeeati9
faction of knowing that my patient was
out of all danger, and would, ere long,
be as well as ever.
“In reply to their questions as to hbw
I became sufficiently acquainted with
the practice of medicine to handle such
a critical case, and prove the providen
tial fact of my having the antidotes so
near at hand, I, in a few words, told the
story of my ill success in obtaining
Eractice, and the dire necessity which
ad driven me to accept employment
as a bar-keeper. In turn the brothers
made a confidant of me.
“Their father, a widower, bad died a
twelfth month before, leaving behiDd
him some twenty thousaud dollars, to
be equally divided between his two
sons, making the elder his sole execu
tor and guardian totheyounger brother,
The brothers were fondly attached to
each other; aDd the older one, with a
view of increasing their Joint capital,
had invested the whole amount In a
stock mining operation. The lead mine
had suddenly failed to yield, and the
shares had fallen to a merely nominal
value at the Btock board. With ruin
staring him In the face, and the con
sciousness of having beggared an oDly
and dearly-loved younger brother, he,
in a moment of mad phrenzy, had re
solved on suicide.
The two pressed upon my accepting
a handsome fee, and insisted that I
should at once renounce a calling so
little suited to my tastes, with the as
surance that they would at once obtain
for me a situation in a wholesale drug
house—the j unior partner of the concern
being an intimate friend of theirs.
“ I indeed hardly say that I was too
happy at having an opportunity to
change my vocation, and that Bame day
I entered on my duties as a clerk with
the house of H. D. & Co. Through the
personal exertions of my uew friends,
(who moved in the very first oircles of
society), I was introduced to an exten
sive circle of acquaintances, and erelong
was enabled to again follow a profession
to which I bad always been devotedly
attached.
‘•By a sudden turn of fortune, the
brothers were relieved from all embar
rassments of a financial nature. In sink -
a shaft, the miners unexpectedly struck
a rich vein of pure ore, which caused
the price of stocks JO rise to a fabulous
premium. They sold out at the right
moment, and the result left them far
richer than their most saoguine antici
pations could have hoped for.”
The doctor concluded with this re
mark :
“I have‘never been called in to attend
a case of mania-apotu, (and I have seen
hundreds of cases of that fearful dis
order) but my mind would naturally
revert to my experience as a “Bar
keeper for a Day.”
Splendid Picture of an Iceberg.
From last week’s issue of that excel
lent illustrated paper, Appleton’s Jour
nal, we take the following magnificent
account of an Iceberg by Dr. I. I.
Hayes. The Dr. is now oa Lis way to
Greenland on another voyage of dis-
covery :
TUo lusbei e lo tUo Urgoot I^JoponJ.
ent floating body in the universe, ex
cept the heavenly ores. There is noth
ing approaching it, within the range of
our knowledge, dn this globe of ours;
and yet it is, as we have seen, but a
fragment of the ico stream, which is, in
its turn, but an arm of the ice sea. And
yet the iceberg is to the great quantity
of Greenland ice as the pariog of a Au
ger nail to the human body ; as a small
chip to the largest tree; as a shovelful
of earth to Manhattan Island. Yet
I magnify the bit of ice in your tumbler
until it becomes, to your imagination,
a half a mile in diameter each way, aud
you have what may be sometimes seen.
I have sailed alongside of an iceberg,
two miles and a half, measured with a
log line, before coming to the end of it.
The name signifies, as we have seen
before, ice mountain; and it Is truly
mountainous size. Lift it out of the
water, and It becomes a mountain one
thousand, two thousand, three thous
and feet high. In dimensions, it is as
if New York city were turned adrift in
the Atlantic, or the Central Park were
cut out and launched in the same place
An iceberg of the dimensions of the
Central Park is far from usual. And its
surface is not in form unlike it either.
It is undulating like the Park, and
craggy, aud crossed by ravines, aud dot
ted with lakes—the water of the lakes
being formed from the melting snows
of the late winter, and also of the ice
itself-after the sdowb have disappeared
before'the influence of the summer’s
sun. I have even bathed in such a lake
although I am giad to say but once, and
was in “those days of other years,”
when the youthful insanity iB strong to
say , “ I have done it”—a disease which
I believe to be amenable only to that
treatment popularly Known as “ sad
experience.” Stating on an jceberg
late is far more satisfactory and sensi
ble. .
He thus describes an iceberg which
he explored :
This berg was not only remarkable
for its great size, but for its great variety
of feature. We rowed all the way
around it, and measured it carefully.
Ohe of its sides was nearly straight and
regular, having the appearance of being
broken away from something—a frac
ture look. This was evidently the side
which was attached to the glacier.
Facing the sun, it glistened marvel
lously. This side was six thousand five
hundred feet long. At one end it was
two hundred and forty feet high, rising
squarely from the sea. At the centre
the height was less, being only a hun
dred and sixty feet. At the farther
end, it was a hundred aud ninety.
These measurements were made with
as much accuracy as was possible un
der the circumstances, and they are
quite reliable within small limits. The
log line and chronometer were of ne
cessity the means of determining the
length. By dropping the “chip” at
the foot of the berg, and then rowing
out a hundred fathoms, I obtained a
tolerably accurate base line, for ascer
taining the altitudes—a pocket sextant
giving me the necessary angles. By the
same method I found the end of the
berg to which we came, after meas
uring the side, to be eighteen hun
dred feet across. This terminated
in a rounded bluff. Turning here, we
came upon aside wholly different from
the one we had before measured. It
had evidently been for a long time the
glacier front—for a period of perhaps
fifteen or twenty years at the least. It
was most irregular. In places it was
cliff-like; as the other, but for themost
part it was worn into all sorts of irregu
lar shapes. This had been done partly
by the washings of the sea, and partly
by the streams of melted snow which,
in the summer time, poured over the
glacier. Thus there were bights eaten
into it that were large enough to float a
frigate. In one place there was a con
siderable bay, with two Islands in it
that were very peculiar. Around thiß
bay we pulled, and in the valley cr
rather gorge, at one angle of it, I land
ed, and, with sharp spikes in my heels,
and a short boat-hook In my hand, I
climbed up to the summit of the berg.
Its surface was rolling, uneven, and
craggy. There were two conspicuous
hills upon it, one of which was two
hundred and ninety, the other two
hundred and seventy feet above
the sea-level. Between these hills,
and among others less conspicuous,
I discovered a winding lake at least
a quarter of a mile long—the water
being formed from the snows of winter,
which, melting with thesummer’s sun,
had trickled down the icy hill-Bidesand
gathered in the valley. Following along
the margin of this singular and beauti
ful lake, I came at length to its outlet,
where, thrqugh a gorge, poured the
superabundant crystal waters over a
crystal bed In a rapid torrent, until,
coming at length to tbb side of the berg,
the stream leaped wildly down into the
ocean, roaring like a young Niagara.
On every side, indeed, there were
streams, many of them very small, hur
rying to the ocean, and dropping from
the roof of the iceberg like the waters
from a house-top, on a warm day fol
lowing a heavy fall of snow/
I wandered about among these icy
hills until I really grew bewildered, and
found my way to the exact place of my
assent, not without embarrassment.—
The cause of this was partially explain*
ed: I had kept my eye upon the Bun,
while the icebergs waa turning round
beneath my feet. It had probably
grounded on one corner, and the cur*
rent was slowly swinging it around up- ;
on a pivot. Before this, however, I had i
climed the loftiest hill. The view was
superb—distant, as from the summit of
Staten Island, and over a sea where
icebergs lay scattered like mammoth
diamond set in a waste of lapis lazuli.
Nor was the neighborhood devoid of
life. A hock of Kittiwakegulls flew up
from the sea, and perched themselves
upon the hill, and then Bet up their
noisy chatter; and one old burgomast*
er, who had caught a 'llsh, oame there 1
to swallow it in peace; but, to his evi
dent surprise and sad disgust, be was
suddenly pounced upon by a predatory (
jager, who had seemingly been hover*
ing round for just such a chance, and
with an angry scream the burgomaster,
dropped the prize.
It. was altogether a most strange sen
sation —afloat aLso great an elevation,
on an ice-mountain in the sea. Yet
my footstool was Arm and solid as the
eternal hill.
If time and circumstances had per
mitted, I would gladly have brought up
my tent and camp iixtnres, and have
slept and lain there for a day or so,
watching the grand panorama of the
hills and sea around, while the sun, like
a golden wheel in the blue sky, rolled
round aud round me, never setting, but
changing from hour to hour the aspect
of every object within the raDge of vis*
ion—now silvering an iceberg, now col*
oring It, now flaunting it in blue and
now in green ; now biazlng with red
the ragged cliffs of the flord; now
throwing them in shadow, as If Lhey
were thegloomy wall encompassing the
abyss of Daute’s giants; now gilding
the distant mountains; now robing
them in purple; now whiting the far-off
ice-sea; now making it a sea of rubleß;
then blending it with the blue sky.
Butthis camp-llfeon an ice-berg could
not be, so I returned to my boat, and
continued my survey of the floating
mountain. Firßt I had explored the
bay where I had landed. The bottom
of this bay was the sloping ice, shoaling
gradually as we went farther in, thro*
a distance of a hundred yards; and,
as I looked down over the side of the
boat on the ice beneath, through what
was at first a few fathoms, but finally
only a few inches of water. I thought I
had never seen so soft and exquisite a
color, or one so perfectly graduated in
its various tints, oo the liquid green
through which we sailed. The islands
in the bay, which I have spoken of be
fore, were but two hummocks that rose
a few feet above the surface—as Govern
or’s Island and Ellis Island in New
York harbor.
Leaving the bay, we continued our
course, past broken-down turrets and
dismantled towers, and ruined Spires,
between which lay huge clefts filled
with a deep chameleon light, and great
caverns of Cimmerian darkness, in
which the slow-moving billows were
caught and confined, until, tired of their
imprisonment, their hollow voices came
gurgliDg out as the loud breathing of
some mighty monster of the deep who
Was exhausting his feeble efforts to move
the great mountain from his path.
This side was six thousand feet in
length. The other end was thirty-five
hundred. Thus, in making the com
plete circuit, we had pulled almost three
and a half miles. I averaged the whole
altitude at a hundred ana eighty feet
above the spa-level. This would give a
total average depth of fourteen hundred
and fortv feet—between a quarter and a
third of a mile. Multiply iucae dimen
sions together, and we get 23,850,000,000
• of cubic feet. Convert this into tons,
and all the ships in the known world
are nothing to it. Convert it into mo
' ney, and at the present rates for the
skimmiDgs of the Boston ponds, you
have the national debt.
It is only by Buch figuring that we
can form anything like an adequate
idea of the enormous vagrant ot' the
polar seas. Its beauties are not so easily (
defined. A solid and a mighty, it Is j
yet a subtle object. Its side is blazed i
with crimson, and gold, and purple. <
Here we see the enamel, there the chal- <
cedony; transparent quartz in one <
place, sapphire and the flashing ruby
in another. ' ,
These varying colors, as seen In the
sunlight, are due in a measure to its :
parallel lines of stratification, which :
are faintly perceptible, and which, like ■
the multiplied rings of the old forest ;
oak, round the long period of years or
ages through which it has gone on,
slowly growing in the parent glacier;
partly to the Irregular form of the frac
tured surface, the myriad of reflecting
faces placed at all angles, to the sun
and to the light; partly to the sunlight
dissolving in the sharp prisms of its
sides, and stealing through the mist
and spray of the falling waters, flinging
here aud there the tender colors of the
rainbow, along the pure, clear surface
of its glistening walls ; and partly to the
waters of the sea, in which it floats
sometimes green, sometimes blue, al
ways wondrously clear, and always
mirroring the giant-that it floats —its
sublime proportions,* its crumbling
ruins; its cascades, and the light which
flickers round it—while bearing it aloft
in triumph, and while the laughing
waves, encouraged by the sun, leap
round and kiss it gently, and with each
touch steal away the crystal particles
which were theirs of old and are theirs
ofright. , lt _
More than this I cannot say for the
floating mouutain. Words fail us ut
terly in tbe description of such a mighty
work of Nature —fail us, as do the col
ors of the painter. Who can paint or
who describe theleapof Niagara, or the
roar that rises from the great abyss.
, The iceberg, in its growth, and birtb,
and immeneity, is tbe nearest parallel.
And what pen can describe or pencil
) paint its age? How long since its crys
, Lais were anow-flakes, dropped by the
, air upon a Greenland mountain-top?
I It was not a few years or even centuries
1 ago. Its existence on tbe earth in the
• tbe great ice sea and stream has been
longer than that of the whole human
i race, from the birth of Adam.
A Lawyer’s Romance.
Roswell M. Field “ the Nestor of the
Missouri bar,*'a lawyer whose entire
lack of ambition lost the fame his rare
aud great ability might have won, died
in St. Louis on Monday. He had a pe
culiarly romantic episode in his early
manhood. He was the son of Gen.
ilartin Field, of Newfane, Vt., and j
practiced law awhile in the courts o£ bis ;
native county. His abandonment of
his lucrative practice and removal from
the State, to which he never returned,
was occasioned by an unfortunate be
stowal of his affections, under circum
stances rarely, if ever, paralleled. He
fell in love with an accomplished young
lady in Windsor, and though she was
engaged to another gentleman, suc
ceeded in winning her affections and
inducing her to join him in a secret
marriage, which was to be followed by
cohabitation in case the consent of her
parents could be obtained, but other
wise to be void. She failed to gain that
consent; and as soon as he could be
summoned from Boston was publicly
married to her first love, who joined her
in a suit in chancery against Mr. Field
for the dissolutiop of the secret marriage.
Both she and her suit survived her bus*
band, but *t last she won it in the Su
preme Court and the case is reported at
length in the thirteenth voliimeof Ver
mont reports, Mr. Field felt sorely ag
grieved at the result and issued a pamph
let in which he sought to vindicate him
self before the world. Afterward, how
ever, he married another lady with
whom he lived happily. She baa been
dead several years, and four children we
think suryive them both. Years after
the strange suit, the lady whom he first
loved and then fought so persistently,
then twice a widow, married a mer
chant of Windsor county. who shortly
thereafter removed to St. Louis. There
I they lived for several years, moving in
I the first circles (though never meeting
Mr. Field) and where she died sudden
ly, of heart disease, about four years
| since, beloved by all who knew her.
Terrible Accident In a t'oal Mine.
The Atlantic Cable brings the following:
Dresden, Aug. 3.—A dreadful accident
occurred yesterday in tttß coal mines in the
mountain districts near the city. Over
three hundred men were killed outright.
No particulars are given, but the accident
is said to have been attributable to the
stormy weather.
The accounts of the explosion of the mines
have not been examined. Three hundred
and twenty*ODe dead have been counted.
The scenes in the neighborhood are heart
rending.
NUMBJiIi :2
Intelligent.
A Sketch of Lancaster.
One of the editorial corp 3 of the Philadel
phia Ledger visited our city on Saturday,
and Monday's issue of that paper contained
the following sketch of Luncuster:
The city of Lancaster is admirably s*tn
ated on the line of the Pennsylvania Rail
road and near the Conestoga creek. It is
about 70 miles west of Philadelphia, and 37
mllea E. S. E. of Harrisburg. It was for
many years the largest inland town in the
United States, and was the seat of the Stute
Government from 1799 to 1312. The Cones •
toga creek rnns a short diataoco in the city
limits and within a low hundred feet of
one of the principal streets. From this
point to where It enters the Susquehanna,
at Safe Harbor, is, by the course of the
stream, 19 miles, which in 1826 was mode
navigable for small craft, by means of
dams and locks. By tills route, as well as
by the railroad to Columbia, a distunoe of
12 miles, great quantiliea of lumber nud
coal are brought to Lancaster. The oldest
turnpike In the Uuited Slates has its west
ern terminus here, and connects it with
Philadelphia.
The streets of the city are generally
straight, crossing each other at rlgnt angles
and mostofthem are well macadamized. —
The greater part of the town is substantial*
ly built of nrlck, and ibo more modern
houses are commodious and elegant. Great
improvements have beeu made within the
past twenty years, in the business portion
of the city, by tho erection of flue stores,
introduction of gas, Ac. Tho principal pari
of the city is elevated about IUO teet above
the Conestoga, from which tho supply of
water la drawn, and raised by rauehtnory
to large reservoirs. The water works,
which were commenced in 1835, have cost
over $150,000. There are two basins connec
ted with the" works, capuble of holding
7,000,000 gallons of water. ,
Among the public buildings In Lancas
ter, the Court House may bo classed as the
most Imposing. It stands on the northwest
corner of East King und Duke streets, and
has a front of 72 feet, aud|u depth of 1(14 feet.
The basement is built of sandstone, and tho
superstructure of brick, covered with mas
tic. From the contral portion of tho roof
rises a cupola, in which is a clock with four
faces. A statue of Justloe is pluoed upon
the summit. Tho original cost of tho Court
House, with furniture, was $1(5(3,000. Tho
corner stono was laid 1352, und it was occu
pied In 1854.
The old gaol, famous as scono of the inur
der of the Conestoga Indiana iu 1703 by the
Paxton boys, was takon down in 1851, and
Fulton Hall, one of the most elegant build
ings in the interior of the State, occupios its
site. This hall is used for concerts, theatrical
performances, Ac. The present county
prison is a large castellated building of red
sandstoue. Its tower, 110 feet high, is the
first object which strikes tho eye of the
traveller approaching Lancaster. It cost
$llO,OOO. The government of the prison is
conducted upon the principle known as the
Pennsylvania system—tire convict being
consigned to separate and solitary coubne
ment. The number of persons committed
to the prison during the past year was 1052.
The profit of the labor of tho prisoners was
$3 813 32.
The Hospital and Insane Asylum wore
authorized by acta of the Legislature in 18(35
and 18GG. The buildings are large, and coat
$55,000. A Houso of Employment and Sup
port for the Poor was established hero in
1798. The buildings are couveuiently ar
ranged for the boarding and lodging ot the
•inmates, and provision is also made for
strangers who are suddenly takeu 111. The
county is also proprietor of a tract ot land
Containing 197 acres, which is iarmed by the
inmates of the Poor House. The Orphan
Asylum of Lancaster was founded in 1849,
and has now 14 orphans, 12 being soldiers
orphans. The Home for Friendless Chil
dren was established in 1859; the present
Home having been found inadequate, a |
new and large building is being erected,
that will accommodate 150 children.
On the organization ot Lancaster county
in 1729, and the removal of the seat of jus
tice from Conestoga in 1730, the city took
it* nama. It WAJI cburterOti IMA »
borough in 1742, and made a city In 181 S—
. 1777 Congress Bat here for a few days.
From 1799 to 1812 It was the capital of tho
State. The county of Lancaster has an urea
of 950 square miles, the Suaquehaoa river
forming its boundary on the southwest, and
the Octorara creek on the southeast. The
eurfuce is uneven, South Mountain extend
ing along the Northwestern frontier, and
Mine ridge passing through the southeast
ern part The surface between these moun
tains is undulating and traversed by many
small streams. The soil is a rich calcareous
loam, and blue limestone, roofing slate,
marble and magnesia, are found in the
county. The population is dense, aud the
value of its agricultural products not
equalled by any county in the State.
Franklin College, in Lancaster city, was
founded in 1787, but subsequently declined.
The institution was afterwards united with
Marshall College, and is now known as
Franklin and Marshall College, and the
present buildings were dedicated in 1856.
The institutions of learning at present are:
St. James’School for Young Ladies; the
Conestoga Collegiate Institute for Girls,
and the Public Schools, attend
ed in IS6B and 1889, on an average, by 2310
pupils. A year ugo, a German aud Eng
lish school was organized for the benefit of
such of the citizens as desired to havo their
children instructed in tho German lan
guage. There is also au African school.
There are two libraries, the Mechanics’ and
the Athenißum, the first having nearly 4000
volumes and the latter some 3000. Tho
Linncen Society was instituted in 1862, for
the cultivation, development und advunco
ment of natural science, aud to investigate
the character, habits, Ac., of animals, plants
and m nerals of the county.
' The first newspaper iu this city was pub
lished in 1751, by Miller & Holland. The
second was the Lancaster Journal, pub
lished in 1794; it was continued until 1839,
when it was merged in tbo Lancaster In
telligencer, now published as a daily and
weekly, which was established in 17'J'J. The
others papers now issued in this city aro
the Lancaster Express (daily and weekly),
Lancaster Examiner and Herald (semi
weekly), Der Volksfreund und Boobacter,
Lancaster Inquirer, Church Advocato,
Father Abrabain, The Good Templar, The
Mechanics’ Advocate, Pennsylvania School
Journal, The Guardian, The Lancaster
Farmer, and the Lancaster Bar.
Among the benevolent and philanthropic
organizations in Lancaster, there aro a
Lodge, Chapter, Council and Coramandery
of Masons ; three Lodges and one Encamp
ment of Odd Fellows; three tribes or Im
proved Order of lied Men ; t?/o Councils of
American Mechanics ; ono of the Junior O.
U. A. M. ; two Lodges Good Templars;
two of Order of Good Fellows; one of
Druids; odo of the Seven Wise Men ; two
of Knights of Pythias; one Sons of Tern
perance; three ftoman Catholic Beneficial
Societies; three Female Beneficial Societies;
Daughters of Temperance ; Daughters of
America, and the Pbilozatbeans. There
are live steam fire engines, two engine and
hose, and one hook and ladder company.
These companies all occupy good houses,
and the citizens generally speak of the de
partment in high terms.
The churches are divided among the fol
lowing denominations ; two Episcopalian,
two Methodist, two German Reformed, one
Presbyterian, one German Lutheran, one
Moravian, one Evangelical Lutheran, ono
Evangelical Association, Bethel Church,
one Synagogue, two Roman Catholic, oue
new Jerusalem Church, und one United
Brethren in Christ. The First Lutheran
cUurch is a fine structure, and bos a steeple
200 feet high. The population of Lancaster
in 1800 was 4292; in 18-10, 8417; in I-41U,
17,003, and at the present time is estimated
at 25 000. New dwelling bouses and places
of business are constantly being erected,
oyer ninety now edifices having been com
menced the present season. Four-roomed
houses, on good streets, are renting at about
§l5O per annum, and upon the suburbs at
from $7O to $BO.
In noticing the industrial Interests o.
Lancaster city, the cotton mills deserve
special notice, from the fact that they give
employment to more persons than in any
other branch of business lu the city. The
mills are beautifully situated, and are kept
in better order, particularly iu the sur
roundings, tbau any I buve ever seen. —
Mill No. 1, belonging to F. Shroder it Co.,
employs 360 bands. The mill contains 10,-
00Q spindles, 271 looms, and 300,000 yards
of light shirting muslin are made every
month. The weavers (women) in this, as
well as in|the other mills, make irom $3 tos7
per week. w _ .
Mills Nos. 2 and 3 belong to Mr. John
Farnum, of Philadelphia. Nine hundred
hands are employed in the two mills, which
ran 2l,oodapindle9, 620 looms, and manu
facture 18,000 yards of ticking per day.—
Mill No. 4, known as Beaver street Mill,
is not running at the present time. When
at work about lOOlooms are run. At Wiley
&Co.'s mill sixty bands are engaged iu
making duck ; G 4 looms are ruu, producing
about 2500 yards per day.
The machine-shops and foundries of Win.
Diller, Harberger, McCully it Co and
Landis Brother, employ nearly 100
hands who make from $2 to $2 75 per day.
each. All kinds of engines, mining ma
chinery, &c., aro made in these establish
ments. At the boiler works of Mr. John
Best some 40 bands are employed, and in
BlickensderfePs stove foondry about 30
men and boys. Over 40 men are also em
ployed at Thomas & Peacock’s furnace.—
Ten tons of pig iron are made daily.*
The sporting rifles made here by Henry
E. Leman have long been celebrated all
over the country, and before the war great
numbers were made and sold to parties who
traded with the Indians, but that trade has
been almost entirely destroyed, the Govern
ment having taken measures to stop the
sale of rifles to Indians. The rifles are cele
brated, because of the fact that great care is
exercised in the straightening and forming
of the barrel. Seventeen hands are now
employed, and about 30 rifles are made
every week, which sell from $9 to *25 each.
The horn comb establishment of Shafmer
Graham employs fifty hands, who man-
BATE OF ADTEBTIfrISe.
Bninrzsa Asyx&naxxnvTS. 913 * year per
qnaro of ten lines; IQ p«r year for eaob iut*
oltlcmal square.
bxal estate Jam*to oenu'a lintHbr
th«first, «ndtf«t#rcr«acb«ab*eqtt«a» la
ser Uon,
General Abyanrxaneo 7 cents a line for tbe
first, and 4 cents for each subsequent laser-
Uoru
Snegxax. Notices Inserted in Local Ooltunn
16 oents per line.
Bfzoiai* Notices preceding marriages sad
deaths, 10 oents per line for first Insertion!
and & cents rot every subsequent insertion)]
LBQA.L ASP OTgfcß jTOItUIS „ _
Executors' notices —• 2.*
Administrators' notices, WO
Assignees’ n0t1ee5,.~...~~~..*.~....~* 2.60'
Auditors’ notices, .... 2.00
Other *• Notices,'’ten lines, or less, Z
three ...... 1.50
ufaature 750 gross ol all kiuds of coiuum per
month. The horns are those taken from
the bides sent to the tanners, und some lew
import* from Spain. They are llrst out
intopvopei lengths for the comb, aud (bon
softened In but oil. After tne pieces are
flattened they are laid nwnjr ior six mouths
to dry, after which they are ready for the
sa wand cutters wbiob form the teeth. Most
of the combs mace are sent to tho Phils
delpUlM market.
The Lancaster File Company counneno
ed operations in January last, aud their
works aro said to be the largest in this
couutry for nnklDg flies by band, lbe
company employ 120 bunds, wbo niuke
$l2 to §3O per week. After tho teeth have
been placed on lbe flies, they are burdened
by placing thorn In hot lead, A sixty
horse engine la employed in ruuniug their
works.
The manufacture of light carriages and
roud wagons is carried ou extensively J lb®
principal firms belug 8. B. Cox it Co., D. A.
AlticK, Zecher A Bone, BielgerwuU.it Door
sora, Edgerly it Co., John Cochran, and
Hoover A Son. These firms employ about
150 hands, and turn out nearly 000 carri
ages, worth from $l5O to §4OO euoh, yearly.
The Lancaster Locomotive Works, for-,
merlv Norris, now employ 350 hands ; who
make at the ratonfoO locomotives annually.
Most of them, at the present time, aro lor
tho Pennsylvania and St. Louis Kailroad
Companies. The buildings belonging to
this company are very complete, and cover
about three aores of groarni.
The brewlug of lager beer is oue of tho
features of Lancaster. Those engaged in
business aro Henry Prnnke, J. A. Bpreng«
or, Lawrence Knapp, AugustusSohoenbor
ger, John Wlltliuger, Stroblo A Seuu.
J. A. Scheurenbrand, Wacker, Myers, and
soveral others not so largely engaged In
brewing. Tho total production of these
brewers la set down at 25,000 barrels, of 31
gallons each per year, requiring to make it
about 70,000 bushels of mult. It is sold at
$l3 per barrel. The iu«u euguged in tho
breweries number about fifty, und tboy are
paid from $2O to $OO per month with board,
and the privilege of drinking us much la
ger us they may see flt. Mr- J* A. Spreng
or has just completed extensive beer vaults
which aro from 20 to 32 feet under ground,
and capable of containing 11,000 burrols of
beer. Tho vaults and tue buildings, and
machinery yot to be completed, will cost
about $lOO,OOO.
Tho tanneries number six or olght, atm
it is estimated that from 5000 to 7000 hides
are tunned annually. From certain poluts
in the city a beautiful view is had of tho
rich agricultural district surrounding it.
The cash value of farms, In Lancaster
comity, was set down wbon tho last census
was taken, at $52,599,401, und oi personal
property at $25,173,703 making a total of
$94,193,021. At tho same timo tho number
of manufacturing establishment* in tho
county were said to be 907 with a cupital
of $5,099,132, aud ualug raw material, cost
ing over $5,000,000 annually. The bunds
employed number Sideband $1,349,432 was
required annually for labor. Tho anthra
cite furnaces have u total capacity of over
71,000 tons of pig metal per annum, und
the charcoal furnaces 2000 tons There aro
ten national bunks in Laucastor county,
with a oapltal of $2,040,000 aud seven other
banks and bauking lirma, with a
of $215 270. and having a deposit or $1,430,-
ifiO ’ Nameloc.
No Coal in Lancaster County.—lt
has recently been published in the news
papers, of this city, tbut “ sovoru small
vuius of stone coal have beeu found In the
excavations for the Pinegrove, Lebanon
and Manheim Railroad, near Mount Hope,
Lancaster county. These veins, though
small neur tho surface, increaso in size as
thev descend. Some of this coal has been
tried in a smith’s ttro and found to burn
W The United States Railroad and Mining
Register (which Is excellent authority In
such matters) comments, upon tho above
alleged discovery of atone coal m our coun
ty, as follows : . .
All tho rocks of Lancaster county aro
much older and many thousand feet (goo
loulcully) below the Coal Measures, except
one formation which overlies lbe older
rocks, and la itself of a much later date,
and (geologically) above the Coal Measures.
It is, Impossible, therefore, tbut uny true
coal beds should be discovered In Luncus
ter couniy. This later rock formation,
which spreads Itself over the country about
Mount Hope, is tbe Norristown Red Sund-
Btone, tbe same as the Connecticut River
Sandstone, and tbe same also as tho Dnn
River and Deep River Red Sandstone of
Nortb.Carolina. AtGwynedd, on tho North
Pennsylvania Railroad, aud at Pbmnix
ville, on the Reading Railroad, tbiu seams
of coal, with multitudes of fish boDea and
teeth, have been* found In this lormutlon,
but never any workable coal beds. The
same deposit spreads through York county
and int7> Maryland, where In the neighbor
hood of Frederick, numerous remains of
plants turned into coal, and black slates
(that is, mud blackened with vegetable
matter) have been found, setting the inhab
itants to work at fruitless diggings for coal.
This deposit of black Blato aud coul plants
keeps one and the same position in tho
middle ot the great New Red Formation
all tho way down to North Carolina, where
tbe amount of vegetable matter has been
large enough to constitute a coal bod fop
feet thick, or rather two coal beds, each
two feet thick, separated by a lajer of very
sulphurous and phororllerous iron ore,
tilled (the Iron ore] with millions of flsh
teeth. The phosphorus bus come, of course,
from Iho flsh remains, and spoils tho Iron
ore, as completely us tho sulphur spoils
tbe coal. It will be a great misfortune If
the discovery of these wortheless luyers of
vegetable matter should excite the farmers
of Lancaster county to dig expensively for
coal. They will never flud a bed. And It
1 is wrong to report that tho " veins though
small at the surface Increase in size os they
descend.” They do not.
To Sfortssien.— As there are many in
quiries os to tho proper times to shoot game,
and as persons sometimes get themselves
into difliculty through ignorance of game
laws, we publish the Joilowing from the
Harrisburg Patriot :
Deer cannot be killed or taken except
from tho Ist September until tho 31st of
December. .
Grouse or pheasants can be shot from tho
Ist of August to the 20th of December.
Partridges cab only be killed trom tho
Ist of October to the 10th day of Decomber.
Wild turkoys can bo hunted from the Ist
ofOctoberto the latof January.
Squirrels and rabbits may be shot from
! the Ist of August to Ist of January.
I Woodcock from the 4th of J uly to the 15th
of November. , , ..
Insectivorous birds, which includes tho
robin, are prohibited to be shot at any time,
and It is illegal to rob tho nests of wild birds
of all kinds.
Trout can be fished for with hook and
lino only during the months of April, May,
June and July.
Sunday shooting or hunting la prohibited
under a heavy penalty.
Traps, blinds, snares, (fee., are entirely
prohibited.
Possession of fish or game out of season
is sufficient loconvict the purty, oven if they
were purchased.
The penalties vary from $5 to $5O.
Oiio-half of the fiue goes-to the informer,
and any one convicted and refusing to pay
the fine goes to jail for ten duys.
Nkw Patents. —Frank J. Stoinhauser
of this city, has Just received Lottors Patent
for a new mode of balancing tho Keys on
Pianos, Ac., dated the 3d day of August,
18fiU. , ,
By this simple and efficient device, any
one can adjust or balance the keys to any
desired delicacy of touch, by means or a
biuhll weight to give uniformity to each
key. This is highly important in trilling,
or in performing .running or brilliant pas
sages, and will proye of the greatest utility
to makers and players, and canuot tail to
recommend Itself. .
Charles F. Walker, late of Lancaster,
has also received Letters Patent for bis im
proved Wash Machine of the sumo date aa
machine operates on the prlnciplo
of suction and expulsion, forcing the hot
suds directly through tho meshes of the
goods to be washed, by an alternate up and
down motion. This machine has been tol
ly tested and highly approved of.
Both the above patents were obtained
through the agency of J. Stauffer, of this
city.
Generous. —Mr. Levi W. Groff, of West
Earl township, this county, recently gave
IlDtoward the Children's Home, in thia
city • it being the amount due Mr. Groff for
his services as Secretary of the School
Board of said township. This certainly
very geuerous.
Organ Dedication.—Wo learn from the
Columbia Herald that the dedication of the
new plpo organ of the Lutheran Church of
Elizabethtown came off, the 29th ult., by a
grand Vocal and. loatrumeutul Concert.
Messrs. Knauff, or Philadelphia, B. A.
Shreiner of Lancaster performing on the
organ, and Misses English and Saylor, of
Philadelphia, and the JEollau Quintette, of
Columbia, the Vocalists. The organ la a
large one, and its tone is of the sweetest
charades. The exercises of the concert
closed by Prof. Unseld playing "OldHan
dred ” on the full organ.
Tib’L Thief. —A man was detectedat the
butober shop of M.r, Geo. G&ntz. in the
Eighth Ward, this city, last week, in the
act of stealing money from the till of the
connler. On being discovered the thief
took his flight and was energetically pur
sued - by the whole population, male ana
female, of the vicinity of the robbery, and
was finally overtaken by a large dog be
longing to Mr. Gantz. The dog caught the
thief by the back of the neck, threw
the ground and held him until be was
taken In custody.
appototed- Mr. A. D, Rockafellow, ol
this city, ha. .ppolnled a Flrst Lieu
tenant of Cavalry in the United States
Army. ,