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§)IMbMUOU&
A Morass Adventure,
In'the latter part of last summer, a
scanty purse led me, in company with
some relatives, to spend my holidays at
a little village on the coast, out'of the
ordinary beat of tourists, but otherwise
remarkable for nothing but its general
air of bleakness and sterility. The place
was very quiet, aud the lodgings were
cheap, and tolerably com fortable. These
esseutiaiß being secured, we had to put
up with the scenery, which was not
very attract ive. A long low ii ne of beach,
surmounted by a high pebble ridge lead
ing on the one band to the foot of some
bold jutting cliffs, and on the other
losing itself in estuary; behind this, a
black and dreary looking bog, stretch
ing three or four miles inlaud, and in
tersected in every direction by wide
artificial ditches, and deep, natural fis
sures connecting with inky pools. A
small river flowing into the estuary
divides the bog, its course being marked
by mounds of peat, cut from the firmer
grounds which forms its banks. Branch
ing out at right angles to the river are
other lines of peat stacks, following the
courseof the lurger drains, which herald
the attempt to cultivate the dreary
waste.
This was the view I beheld, as, stand
ing one evening on the top of the
stony ridge, I faced eastward. The
sinking sun threw my shadow far over
the bog, distinctly seen as it fell over
the gilded rushes and the crimsoning
pools. I had been strolllDg outwith my
gun, in the hope-of adding specimens
to my cabinet, and was thinking of-re
turning homewards,when allong legged
heron slowly sailed high overhead, in
the direction of the river. I watched
the bird till it lighted near one of the
peat-stacks, and carefully noting the
spot, I proceeded to a careful stalk,
hoping to secure an acquisition. I con
trived to get within seveaty yards of
the heron, and as there was no cover of
any kind nearer, I lay dowu behind
the last mound I had reached and with
finger on the trigger, watched patiently
iu the hope that my quarry would feed
towards me. I was not disappointed;
It gradually approached some yards
nearer my hiding place, and then
either caught sight or scent of me,
for it suddenly rose, but in so
doing, come within range. Bang!
went both barrels. Uttering a
hoarse croak, the heron flew heavily
away, keeping close to the ground, aud
evidently hard hit. I sprang up and
followed, jumping the ditches, and
avoidiug the soft ground as best I
could. During one particular long jump,
I lost sight of the heron for a mouieut;
I caught sight of it again just in time to
. see it fall to the earth as softly asasnow
flake, and lio still with wiugs outspread
to their full stretch. Between the bird
aud me, however, there was a crevasse
wider than any I had yet leaped, aud a
dozen yards bn the other side lay the
object of my pursuit. The black slimy
aides of the ditch overhung the water,
which lay deep and still some six or
seven feet below, and a few yards to the
right connected with a large pool, hav
ing equally high aud muddy banks. To
the left was a labyriuth of similar
ditches. Some distance in front, &
broader aud straighter crack in the flat
expanse showed where the river lay.
The bank on which 1 stood was a foot
or two higher than the opposite bank.
I describe the situation thus minutely
in order to make the reader understand
what afterwards happened.
Not liking to lose the prize so nearly
in my grasp, I resolved to risk the
jump. Laying down the gun, and tak
lug my coat oil', I made the effort, and
cleared the ditch, only, however, by a
few inches. I secured the heron, and
smoothing its beautiful plumage, but
little injured by the shot, threw it back
to the bank from w Inch I had just come.
Then, ou looking around, I fouud my
self iu a sort of cut de sac. The bit of
firm ground on which I stood was an
island, aud the only way of escape was
the one by which I had arrived. Hav
lug “ to take off” from a lower level, it
was much harder to get back than it
was to come ; but as there was no alter
native, it had to be tried. I did not leap
quite far enough, aud pitched with
•Lands aud kuees together against the
edge. There was no vegetation to catch
hold of, and after haugiug on the bal
ance for a few momeuts, vainly clutch
ing at Iho mud, I fell backwards with
a heavy splash into the water.—
Fortuuately, I am a good swimmer,
and at first, while treading water, the
ludicrousuess of the affair aloue struck
me; but when I began to see that it
might be difficult to get up those slimy,
overhanging banks, I must confess I
felt rather frightened. It was impossi
ble to get out at the spot where I had
fallen in. I swam further up the ditch,
aud 'tryiug to bottom it, felt my feet
touch the soft tenacious mud, that gave
no support, but was ten times more
dangerous than the water. The water
bccume shallower as I struggled on, but
the muddy bottom refused to give me a
standing place, and the muddy sides
afforded no hold for my hands. It at
last became so shallow that I had to
turn on my back to avoid kicking the
mud as I swam, and when in this posi
tion, I could push my arms into it with
almost as much ease as 1 could push them
through tiie water; but to draw them
out again was far from easy. With a
horrid fear of being unable to extricate
tnyself from the mud, and of a slow
suffocation, I made a sudden dash back
Into the deeper water, aud tried the
other ditcht-B, only to be repulsedinthe
name manner. I swam round aud round
the pool, seeking for an outlet, and be
ginning to feel my boots aud clothes
very heavy, Even now I involuntarily
smiled at the comparison which sud
denly occurred tome between myself in
this plight aud a mouse ewimmiog
roundabucketof water; butthe thought
Uiut I too, like it, might be swimming
for uiy life soon drove all ludicrous
thoughts out of my head.
Mutters now begau to look very seri
oub, when I saw a root or branch of
some long buried tree projecting out of
the bauk. I caught hold of it; but it
wor not strong enough to enable me to
lift myself out of the water. All that I
could do was to support myself with my
hands just sufficiently to keep my head
above the surtace. I took this opportu
nity of kicking off' my boots.
Up to this time, I could scarcely real
ize my position ; but uow the conviction
begau to dawn upon me that I might
never again see the mother and sisters
I had left in the cottage a mile aud a
half away. I looked up at the sky, in
which the twilight was fast giving place
to the moonlight, aud across which the
clouds were merrily driving before the
evening breeze ; and theu I looked at
the black and siimy walls which hem
med me in, and felt as though I was
about to scream with terror. From my
childhood, I have always had a horror
of confinement of any kind. I have felt,
strangely uncomfortable when I have
been persuaded into exploring a cave,
or when I have been shown through a
prison. This feeliog I felt now more
strongly than the fear of drowning. To
die hemmed in by those gloomy walls
would be terrible.
To add to the weirdness, a hollow
booming sound, almost amounting to a
roar, ran through the quiveriDg bog,
intensified to me, do doubt, by my im
prisonment in the heart of the moss.
This, though I had never heard it be
fore, I knew to be the Dote of the bit
tern. During the night, it was repeated
several times, and anything more weird
find dismal it would be hard to imagine.
• I had not as yet thought of shoutiug,
but I now did so till I was hoarse. The
only answer was the eerie Bcream of the
curlew. The improbability of any one
being near enough to hear me so late,
struck me, and I desisted from the use
less labor. The stillness was intense,
broken only at rare intervals.'by the bit
tern or curlew. How long I clung to
the branch I do not know. Fortunately
the water was not cold. The clouds had
cleared away, and the moon, near the
full, shone brightly. Had it been dark,
my courage must have given way, and
I should most prabably have sunk. As
it was, I cannot say that I quite des-
? aired of a rescue in some way or other.
f I could only hold out till morning,
some one might, I conjectured, come
for the purpose of carrying away the
turf soas, and might see my coat
and gun, which would lead to a
search. I had not much hope in
any search from the village; I had
started in the direction of the cliffs, my
favorite evening haunt, and I fancied
that would be the direction the search
ers would take. As the night wore on
—oh, so slowly—wii h the moon so calm
ly gliding through the stars above me,
I fell Into a kind of stupor, and I can
distinctly remember repeating soraps of
21) c lancastcv fntclltgmm:
VOLUME 70
verses totally unconnected with each
other. From this state, I was aroused
by the loud note of some night-bird,
probably an owl, and found my arms
were stiff from holding on to the root:
while my legs felt like weights of lead
suspended beneath me.. While trying
to change my position I fancied I heard
the gargling sound of running water,
and that not far off. I listened intently,
and found it was no fancy. Water was
evidently running into the pool, and I
sa w by -the root that I was clinging to
that the water had risen some inches.
A cheering hope sprang up within
me as it flashed across my mind that the
tide must be rising, and that tbe pool
must have an outlet into the river.
The thought infused new life into
me, and I struck out into the direction
of the sound. Then, to my intense joy,
I saw diatinctly.in the clear moonlight,
that the water was streaming in fast
through several small inlets, and pour
ing in quietly and steadily through one
of the ditches I had swum up. I knew
that if the tide rose another foot or
eighteen inches, I could by treadiDg
water fast, spring up so high as to be
able to catch tbe top of the bank, and
so awing myself up. I knew also that
the water could not possibly begin to
flow into the bog-pools until it was
nearly high tide. Returning to my
resting place I watched anxiously, the
prospect of my speedy deliverance, ban
ishing all weariness. The water contin
ued to pour in steadily and iu greater
volume. The dawn was uow breaking,
and I had not much loßger to wait.
The water had ceased flowing, and
the bank in one place was barely five
feet above the water. Taking a long
breath, I let myself sink low, and then
treading water as strongly and quickly
a 9 possible, I threw half my body above
the surface of the pool, and caught the
top with one hand. Before the soft
earth had time to crumble beneath my
weight, I had obtained a firmer grasp
with the other hand, and in another
moment stood on the mo 98 —saved,
drinking In with eager gasps the fresh
air of the mornlDg.
The whiter haze was rapidly clearing
away, and though it I saw five or six
men hurryiDg towards me. I have a
confused idea of being helped to my
lodgings, and of afterwards telling my
adventure to many eager questioners.
The soaking I had had, and the ex
posure to the unhealthy mists which
rise from the morass in the night, caus
ed an illness for a time, but the effects
soon wore off.
The heron is stuffed, aud adorns my
cabinet, unconscious of the revenge
which overtook its destroyer.
A Reminiscence of Niagara,
In the very center of the seething,
whirling cauldron of waters known as
the American Rapids, lying equidistant
between the American shore and the
islands, and Bath Island bridge and the
brink of the Falls, a rock projects two
or three feet above the water. The eye
rests upon it merely as upou a speck in
the midst of this angry flood, with every
dash of the torrent pouring down from
the plateau above it is half submerged,
and sometimes hidden from sight. At
the time of this "casualty a log, about
four feet in length, had been jammed
in or under this rock, and protruded
from It. The spot was one that was in
the daily sight of hundreds, and iu the
early hours of that memorable summer
morning the first man who had occa
sion to cross the bridge was startled and
horrified to see a human form standing
erect in the midst of the ragiDg, swirl
ing flood, on this little point of rock,
wildly wavinghisarms. He must have
shouted, too, but his cries were drowned
in the uproar of the rapids. It was
David Avery, the sole Burvivor of the
unfortunate boat’s crew. It was con
jectured that the boat must have sped
down to this point, unharmed by rucks
or rapids, and that, striking here, Avery
was thrown or sprang out, finding just
room enough for a perilous foothold,
while the other two with the boat, were
swept on over the cataract. The alarm
quickly spread. It is not difficult to
draw a crowd at Niagara—for the ex
citement seekers of the world are there
—aud in half an hour the bridge and
adjacent shores were thronged with
horrified yet curious spectators. With
them came some dozens of boatmen,
laborers and others, who comprehended
at once that there was a chance for res
cue, aud immediately began to devise a
plan. In the meantime the man had
been recognized by some one, and while
the preparations were beingmadealarge
board was rudely lettered with the words
in German, “We will save you!” and
held up so that he could read it. He
tossed his arms up and down several
times, in token that he comprehended
its meaning, aud the great crowd there
awaited the result of the preparations,
and watched the object of them with
almost breathless interest. It was truly
frightful to see him there amid the
howling waste, almost inthejaw of the
mighty cataract and apparently cut
of!’ from all human aid. But as tbe day
wore on, and the poor fellow became
used to the situation, he seemed to bear
it with composure. Sometimes, to
change his position, he sat down upon
tbe rock aud sometimes made gestures
to the crowd, the meaning of which
could not often be understood. His
face, seen through a glass, looked eager
almost beyond expression of human
faces, but it was hopeful, too.
As noon approached the first attempt
was made for his rescue. A large raft
had been constructed of heavy plank,
bound together crosswise, and this was
to be lowered down from tbe bridge,
with strong ropes, to the castaway,
when it was thought that he could be
drawn up without great difficulty. The
venture was a failure from the start.—
The rapids seized and whirled it away
before the men at the ropes could check
it; the ropes became entangled, and the
raft was carried far below the rock, and
at last went helplessly over the Falls.
It was a bitter, bitter disappointment
—as well to tbe sympathizing, expect
ant throng as to the imperilled man.
But, nothing daunted, the stout hearts
and ready hands immediately aetabout
the making of another raft, while others
were occupied in conveying food and
drink to poor Avery. This was easily
doue in tin cases, attached to stoutcords,
which were floated down to him The
castaway ate his solitary meal there
upon thatinaccesBible pointof rock with
keen relish, and then stood up and
bowed his thanks. Again and again
the cheering words, “ }Vc zvill save you,”
were exhibited, and he was encouraged
by other short sentences in his native
language, which were in the same way
painted in huge letters and held up to
him.
The afternoon slowly wore on—the
long, hot, listless summer afternoon
there at Niagara, usually devoted to
idling over iced drinks in the shade of
the hotel porches or parlors, but now
cheerfully given up to the assistance of,
or sympathy for, a fellow beiDg. There
were hundreds in that crowd who,
prompted by that spirit of American
chivalry which is never wanting among
us, would have cheerfully pluDged in
to his rescue, could the act be any other
than useless foolhardiness; and there
were wealthy men there, who went
through the crowd under the deepest
sense of emotion, offered large rewards
to whoever would rescue him. The
telegraph had, by this time, carried the
news far and wide; the afternoon pa
pers in New York on this uay contain
ed it; and the afternoon trains from
Buffalo and Rochester came freighted
with hundreds more to view the pefil
of the poor German for themselves.
The building of raft pro
gressed ; but although everything was
done to nasten it, darkness found it un
finished, and the crowd unwillingly
dispersed forthe night. The Omniscient
alone can tell how that poor, forlorn
soul passed the dark, dreary hours that
intervened before morning—sleepless
from necessity—weary, lonely, with the
waters raging like unchained beasts all
around him, and the great abyss of ter
ror yawning almost at his feet. Some
sweet hope must have sustained him in
that trying time or the morning would
have found him dead there upon the
rock of his dreadful exile.
Daylight came, and with it the eager
crowdß hastened back to their points of
Bight. The incoming trains all that day
brought more and more spectators, and
before noon the bridge was literally
crowded with them, leaving but a small
apace in the center for the workmen
with the raft; and on either side the
bank was lined—nay, packed—with
spectators. There were thousands upon
thousands present, all eager, curiouE,
and yet sympathetic. Avery appeared
as on the day before, Btill hopeful, eating
and drinking what was sent down to
him, motioning with his hands and
arms, and watching all that was done
on the the shore.
The crisis of the excitement arrived
when, about the middle of the second
day, the second raft was launched from
the bridge upon the harrying flqpd.—
Strong and willing hands held the
ropes, and it was cautiously lowered
until it almost touched the Bpot where
the castaway stood. With a bound he
placed himself erect upon the raft; and
then arose such a shout of rejoicing
from the lips of the multitude that It
was heard even above the roaring of
the waters.
It.was a short lived joy. Tbe ropes
were manned by all the hands that
could find place, and tbe craft struggled
up a little way in the teeth of the rapids,
and then a furious volume of water
broke over and upon it, washing it from
end to eDd, and hurling Avery bodily
Into the rapids! One faint, desperate
hope remained to him; as the irresisti
ble current hurried him down he might
by stout swimming, make the shore at
Chapin’s Island, some rods below, and
to the west of him. It was a furious,
terrible struggle for life, and while the
multitude held their breath and looked
on, it seemed at first as though the man
might still save himself. He almost
reacbed the shore of the little island, but
he never gained it. Some said that the
bush upon which he laid bis hand broke
in his,grasp, others thought that his
strength left him when a few more
strokes would have saved him. He
yielded himself to the fury of the rapids,
and an instant later his body was hurled
over the fatal abyss, amid tbe shudders
and groans of tbe heartsick spectators.
Those who were nearest the spot
where he went over were certain that
his dying shriek, full of tbe horrow of
despair, articulated the name Mary.
All’s Well that End* Well.
Some years ago, I knew a lapidary
who gained a considerable fortune by a
great njisfortune. An excellent work
man honest as the day, Montin had but
one fault—be was too fond of good wine,
which caused him to neglect his work,
sometimes for days together, to the
greatdisatisfaction of hisemployer, who
in all other respects valued and esteem
ed him highly, both for bis skill and
probity.
One day MoDtin received from his
master a diamond of the finest water to
cut and polish, with strict recommen
dations to keep sober until the work
was finished.
“I rely on your activity,” said the
jeweler, on glviDg him the stone. “I
must have it without fail on the 15th
instant, and if you disappoint me this
time, it will be the last you will have
from me.”
Montin promised exactitude, asked,
as was usual with him, part of his pay
in advance, and set himself courageous
ly to work. Under his skilful hand the
diamond soon [began to show forth its
beauty; in a few hours it would have
been finished, when, unfortunately for
Montin’s resolutions, a friend called on
him, an old comrade, who had been long
absent from Paris; what could they do
but take a glass together? Arrived at
the cabaret, the time passed quickly
away, and Montin thought no more of
his unfinished work.
During the morning his employer
came to see how the polishing of the
diamond proceeded. The concierge as
sured him that Montin had only just
gone out, and would not fail to return
directly, as he had for some days been
working steadily and unremittingly.
Only half satisfied, the jeweler went
away, to return in two hours, and to
find Montin still absent. Convinced
he was at the tavern, themaster charged
one of his men to seek him and induce
him to return to his work. This was
done, and Montin, grumbling between
his teeth, quitted his comrade and as
cended to his workshop; but his head
was no longer clear nor ilia Band steady. >
To add to his trouble the diamond be
came unfixed ; he Beized it hastily to
replace it; his trembling fingers gave a
jerk, and by a strange fatality, the pre
cious stone flew ‘ut of the window !
Sobered in a moment by this terrible
accident, Montin continued gazing out
of the casement as if petrified, nis pale
lips murmuriDg the words, “ lost! lost!
lost!” '
For more than an hour he remained al
most motionless, and was only roused
from his lethargy by the entrance of his
master.
“Is it thus you work, Montin?” ex
claimed he; “three times have I called
for the diamond, and you spend your
time at the tavern. Give me the stone;
I must have it, finished or unfinished.”
Montin looked wildly at him without
uttering a word.
“What isthematter with you?” asked
thejeweller. “Why don’tyou answer?
Have you drank all yourßenaes away ?”
Tbe lapidary tried in vain to speak.
His tODgue Beemed paralyzed. At last
he rose, and hiding his face in his hands,
murmured : “It—is—lost 1”
“Explain yourself. What has hap>
pened ?”
“Out of the window.”
“What! when?”
“The stone.”
“Well, well, well! tell me what has
occurred.”
“The stone flew out.”
It was now the turn of the master to
become silent with astonishment; then,
furious with rage, he cried : “I don’t
believe a word of your story; you have
sold my diamond to pay for your dissi
pation.”
This accusation was a coup de grace
for Montin. He fell fainting at the feet
of his master; and it was not without
difficulty that he was recalled to life, or
rather to a despair which amounted al
most to madness. The jeweller, who
understood what was passing in his
mind, tried to oonsole him, and at last
succeeded in rendering him more calm.
“It is a most unfortunate accident, no
doubt,” said he, “but it is not irrepara
ble.”
“You do not. then, believe that I sold
your diamond for drink ?” said Montin,
eagerly.
“No, no, Montin, you must forget
what I said in the first moment of an
ger, and let us try to find a remedy for
the misfortune. *The diamond was worth
£2OO ; you must endeavor to repay me
the half of that sum out of your wages,
which, when you work regularly,
amount to £3 or £4 a week. With in
dustry and sobriety you will soon get
out of debt.”
“From this time I will work steadi
ly,” said Montin, with tears in his eyes.
“ You shall see, sir, that though I have
been a drunkard, I am not a thief.”
“ I believe you,” replied the jeweller.
“I have every confidence in you; you
are a good workman; I will furnish
you with plenty of work, and in a few
years you will be right again. Well!
will that suit you ?
“ Oh yes sir ! only tell me once more
that you do not think I sold the dia
mond.”
“ I repeat, on my honor, that I only
said so in the first moment of anger. I
am convinced you are an honest man—
in fact I prove it by trusting you with
more work.”
“ Yes, sir, that is true, and I promise
you I will not disappoint you. I will
repair my fault; the lesson has been
severe, but it will not be without its
fruits.
Montin kept his word —hKrose early
and worked indefatigably; the lost
stone was replaced by another, which
was polished as if by enchantment.—
Faithful to his promise, he went no
more to the tavern, and became a model
of steadiness *and industry. At the end
of the year he had paid a considerable
part of his debt. Sixteen months passed
thus, when one fine morning in May.
having finished his work, he placed
himself at the window, and watched the
boats passing and repassing on the river,
which flowed close to the walls of the
house. Suddenly his eye was attracted
by something glittering on the extreme
edge of an old chimney. What was his
surprise to discover his half-polished
diamond! It seemed as if a breath
would precipitate it into the water be
neath ; and yet there it had been for so
many monthssuspended between heav
en and earth!
At this Bight his emotion became al
most as great as on the day when he
had seen it disappear out of the win
dow ; he dared not remove his eyes,
fearing to lose Bight of the almost re
covered treasure.
“It is—it is my diamond, which has
cost me so many tears,” said he; “ but
how shall I reach it 1 If it were to fall!
But no, I will take every precaution ;
not too fast! let me consider well!”
At this moment his employer entered
the room.
“Oh. sir,” cried Montin, “it is
there!”
“ What?” said the jeweller.
“ My diamond, or rather yours. Ah,
'CJiSJ. i J JL
LANCASTER PA. WEDNESDAY MORNING OCTOBER 6 1869
donot touch it, we shall lose it forever.”
“Itis true; it is certainly the dia
mond that has so tormented ns, but the
difficulty is bow to get it. Wait a mo
ment, I know how to do it.” So saying
he left tbe room, but quickly returned,
bearing in bis band a net prepared for
catching butterflies. With its aid, and
that of a long stick, he proceeded care
fully to try and get tbe precioos stone.
Montin, hardly dariDg to breathe,
watched all hiß movements with the
greatest anxiety. At last bis efforts
were crowned with success, and he
cried, “Here it is, Montin! I congratu
late you on its recovery.?lam now your
debtor of nearly a hundred pounds.—
what do you intend to do with the
amount?”
“Leave it into your hands, sir, if you
will be hind enough to keep it for
me.”
“Most willingly ; 1 will pay you the
interest, and if you continue to add to
it you will soon have a nice little sum,”
replied the jeweller.
This was the beginning of Montin’s
fortune. In a few years he became a
partner with his master, whose daugh
ter he married, and is now one of the
principal jewellers in Paris.
The Fall Fashions
[From the Demores't Magazine for October. J
The styles for October begin to show
a decided change from the airy light
ness of summer attire. In its best
moods, it is one of those delightful
months when moderate clothing suffi
ces for warmth, and the most seosilive
fabrics can be worn without suffering
injury from oyer-warmth, or the neces
sity for heavy wraps.
It is the month of months for the
wearing rich silk suits, and accordingly
we find handsome black silk saits the
most distinguished street wear.
It is hardly necessary to say that suits
areas fashionable as ever —they are more
fashionable than ever; they are fast
becomings national costume. There
is a universal recognition of the excel
lence and adaptability of such a dress
for out-door wear, and the strong hold
it is taking will, we hope and trust,
render it a permanent institution.
The new suits for fall and winter wear
are very handsome, and extremely well
adapted to the ihicker-materials now
in vogue. Rich fringes, of the same
shade as the material, have taken tbe
place of the ruffles, and are headed with
silk or satin pipings, or the edges of
skirt, sash, and basque are vandyked,
and then bound and piped with silk or
satin, a shade darker than the material.
Velvet is also largely used on all
sorts of fabrics, and will probably be the
most popuiar trimming of the season.
It is principally used iu ribbon a 9 bands
and bordering.as pendantends to which
tassels are attached, and in conjunction
with fringe upon basques, bodies, and
the eDds of sashes.
Wide ribbon velvet is also very effec
tiveupon plain green or garnet reps
and merino, arranged as braces, with
bows upon the shoulders and bows,
with or without ends at the back.
To the basque or jackets, worn with
dresses or complete suits, wide cuffs,
sailor collars, or revers of velvet are
sometimes added, with very novel and
striking effect.
Capes are still worn with suits, but
they are round, and often made double
and triple, with plain or vandyked
edges. Very few are looped up, either
at the back or upon the shoulders.
The single skirt, with Polonaise and
cape attached, is not a new, but a very
useful and favorite style for ladies who
care more for convenience than the lat
est fashion. Made in a thick material,
such a costume is sufficiently warm for
all but the very coldest days of winter.
Shawls are rather more worn than
they have been of late years, arranged
in all sorts of fanciful and picturesqe
ways, over suits, or as outside wraps
with short dresses.
The “Arab” scarf is a very popular
garment, and very useful; it can be
worn either with dresses that are not
complete suits, or over suits to give ad
ditional warmth. It is generally made
in striped orScotch plaid cloth,and fin
ished with fringe and tassels containing
the colors of the fabric. They can be
bought from $7 to $25 ready made and
trimmed.
Shawls of all kinds are extremely
reasonable in price. The finest “re
versible” shawls can be bought for $lO
to $l5, and excellent Scotch plaid wool
en shawls from;s7 each. One of these,
worn straight Highland fashion, over a
suit, is more effective than a cloak
costing four times its price.
children’s fashions.
Very pretty suits of Scotch plaid are
made for little girls this season, consist
ing of high dress trimmed with a plait
ed ruffle cut on the bias, and edged with
narrow black velvet, and a double cir
cular cape scolloped out upon the edge,
and trimmed with several rows of black
velvet, which follow the lines of the
scollops. The upper cape is caught up
in a double fold, and ornamented with
a round bow of black velvet ribbon,
with short cuts.
A very pretty party dres3 was just
completed for a girl of ten years, made
of blue silk trimmed with two narrow
flounces of white organdy muslin. The
upper skirt was of silk with double
ruchings of organdy. The sash was of
organdy, with blue fringed ends; the
silk bodice was very Jow, cut square,
surrounded with fringe, and had a low
chemisette of organdy basted on tbe
inside. Short cape sleeve, edged with
fringe, over short puffed ones of clear
musliD.
Another very pretty and not expen
sive dress for a child may be made in
dead buff poplin, or willlook extremely
jvell in all wool delaine. It consists of
a plain skirt and an upper skirt, open in
front and back, but turned back in re
verses, lined with bright colored silk,
blue or scarlet. The low bodice has cor
ners turned back front, and back in the
same way, and tbe sleeves also over
short puffs of muslin; all of course, are
faced with silk to match the skirt, and
ornamented with square bows without
ends, of black velvet ribbon.
Highland dresses for girls and boys
are very pretty and fashionable.
Dressesof white merino trimmed with
black velvets, coats with broad cuffs of
black velveteen, and little black velvet
hats, turned up with white feathers, are
and considered as distingue
as'any costumes that will be worn this
winter.
We advise Scotch plaids for school
dresses for girls, above all others; they
are so clean and durable. *
NEW FALL BONNETS.
There is no chaoge worth noting in
the size of bonnets, and there is no
longer any great distinction between
hats and bonnets. Hats, which were
formerly considered neglige, demi- toilet,
and only fit for country wear, are now
exhibited upon all occasions—are worn
in the evening, for visiting, at recep
tions, and upon the promenade, indis
criminately, and are really more pro
tective, and have more the appearance
of a covering than bonnets themselves.
In hats, the rage this season is for
three-cornored toques, of black velvet
corded with thick white satin, orna
mented with a well corded plume of
short black and white feathers.
In bonnets, the highest distinction is
achieved by a high Duchesse design in
white or uncut velvet, trimmed with
black fringe, instead of lace and black
feathers. Black lace strings, tied on
one side. Strings are no loDger fasten
ed under the chic, nor are ornaments
placed there ; they are tied high on the
side. Bouquets de corsage are always
so placed on the side of the bodice, in
stead of in front.
Violet toques will be very fashionable
this season, turned up with feathers of
the same shade of color os the velvet,
and mounted with a white aigrette.
The newest shape in bonnets is very
peculiar. It looks like an archbishop’s
mitre. It lies straight to the forehead,
but is thrown up high at the back, form
ing a groundwork for the plume of
feathers, which is the principal orna
ment.
Feathers will be used largely this sea
son, at which we rejoice. There is no
other ornament as graceful or appro
priate for a winter bonnet.
Black lace strings are particularly be
coming upon a bonnet of black velvet,
but they should be composed of hand
made lace. Tulle or imitation lace is of
little or no service; it splits, or becomes
“stringy ” after once or twice of using.
FALL OUTSIDE GARMENTS.
The large square Bhawls of black
cashmere which have been revived, are
laid in plaits at the back and heavily
so as to form a very handsome
mantle, and constitute a very distin
guished finish to a plain black walking
or visiting costume.
Half squares of cashmere are also
ooped up, but in a different way. They
are taken np over tbe arms and fastened
high npon the shoulders, with jet pins
or square bows of thick black ribbon,
three inches wide, the centreof the back
being arranged in the form of a hood, or
allowed to droop in folds. The edges
may be finished with fringe or lace, but
fringe is more fashionable.
Black cashmere scarfs striped in the
roman colors are bordered with a hand
some woolen fringe containing the col
ors of the stripes, and ornamented with
black woolen tassels, capped with silk,
in colors. These are draped at the back,
“Arab” fashion, and are worn over
Bhort dresses, or added to suits, when
extra warmth is needed.
Bmall mantelets of black velvet have
been revived to some extent; but they
are generally embroidered with plain
black silk.
Blue and scarlet flannel sacks for
houe> wear are made in the plain sack
form, simply and prettily trimmed with
two bands of plain flannel of different
widths, one black, the otber the color
of t'he body part, but both notched out
up oh the edges, and stitched through
the centre with black silk.
A pretty, but not particularly new,
breakfast jacket is madeof white ribbed
flannel bound with narrow striped satin,
white and blue, or white and scarlet.
The new water-proof cloaks are made
with sleeves, a small round cape or
hood, and are buttoned all the way down
the front.
The black velvet cloaksof the coming
season seem inclined again to take the
form of baaquinea. There is no other
style, in fact, mo handsome or so well
adapted to velvet, which does not adapt
itself to folds, and is quickly spoiled if
laid in plaits. Square and long shawls
of Scotch plaid are in great abundance
aud variety, of high quality and beauti
ful coloring.
MATERIALS FOR SUITS.
Cloth is coming more and more into
favor for winter suits, and, if of good
quality, there is nothing that is half so
satisfactory.
A Jigbt all wool ribbed ladies’ cloth is
among ibe new and admired fabrics of
the season, and is especially adapted for
serviceable suits.
English water proof cloth achieved a
high degree of popularity last season,
and the favor accorded to it will un
doubtedly be Increased this season.
Velveteen is taking its place among
tbe useful materials, and is especially
employed for children’s outside gar
ments.
But the high style for the “girl of the
period” this winter will be the gayest of
clean tartans in suits trimmed with
black velvet.
TRIMMINGS,
Flat trimmiuga promise to be very
fashiouuble this winter, in the shape of
broad ribbon velvet, heavy braids,cords,
gimps, and bindings, but heavy corded
braids principally, in addition to black
velvet, and the galloons which are used
so much for cloth suits.
Fringes of the same color as the ma
terial, or containing the colors of the
material, are in high vogue, and trim a
suit riehiy though somewhat expen
sively.
Oueof the sensations consists of .-rbite
dresses, white grenadine or white mo
hair, trimmed with black velvet and
black knotted silk fringe.
Cords, gimps, and narrow galoons
striped In the Roman colors, are used to
trim gray or black alpaca diesses with
very good effect; and Roman striped
silk or satin is also largely used, cat
into narrow bias folds, which alternate
with others of the material, or are em
ployed as headings toa fringe trimming.
These goods, striped on black or some
more striking color, are also cur injo
revers , sailor collars, and the broad
mousquetaire cuffs now worn, and form
a most effective finish to plain house
dresses of merino, empress cloth or cash
mere.
Wlmt n Girl Can lio. 5
In the year of our Lord lSG2fate found
us a student in the Normal University
in this State. In common with about
three hundred others, we patiently
delved through the mysteries of learn
ing how to teach, in order that we
might teach how to learn.
A queer set those three hundred
were—and very naturally ; for, at that
time, only the queer ones ever thought
of becoming professional school teach
ers. Those who did were either crip
pled. poor, or, like ourself, both too poor
and too lazy to think of doing anything
else, or have an ambition above the
spelling book aud ferule. Well, the
profession has looked up since then,
which may furnish a reason why we
left it! There was in the school a he
terogenous class, composed of those
scholars who had been in the school
long enough tograduate; but who, from
inattention or inability, had not kept
up to the average standard, and had
been put back to go over the ground
again. Some had been in the school
three, some four, and some five years.
They were looked upon by the regulars,
i e., the students whohadkeptup with
the regular course, with a feeling of
mingled coutempt and pity, and even
the >cboiarsin tbe lower classes patron
ized them. If any mischief was done,
this class of stupids were pretty sure to
have a hand iu it; on which account
they were not favorites with the faculty.
One of the most notable of this class
was a young girl named M . She
was a fair mathematician, a tolerable
scholar; a good-natured, rather quiet
girl. She bad no trouble in the lower
classes, aud it was not until she came to
those rhetorical studies where composi
tion is required that she stuck fast and
hopelessly. She could not write. Every
year she passed through the same ex
aminations, failed exactly in the same
place, was not allowed to graduate, and
at the beginning of the next year, took
herplace where she had commenced the
year before, and, with a docile perse
verance that was funny to think of,
went over, and over, and over the same
round of studies with sober, demure and
painstaking method.
Bhe bid fair to be what a great many
other girls become —the ordinary wife
of an ordinary man. More than once
the faculty shook their heads and
declared that M would never, they
feared, become an earnest teacher. For
five years she lived this purposeless,
dull, aud objectless life, and then a
change came.
Her parents lived in Bloomington,
where her father carried on a furniture
store. He was stricken down by dis
ease ; and, after a long and lingering
illness, died, leaving M , the oldest
girl, her mother, a younger sister, and
two younger brothers, all of them de
pendent upon their sister for a llvely
hood. People sympathized with her—
sympathy is so cheap—and came to the
following charitable conclusions:
Ist. That she would have a hard time
of it.
2d. That the best thing she could do
would be to get married.
3d. That if she couldn’t do that she
might be able to teach school.
And having thus settled her case,
they left her to her fate.
Then the girl’s nature asserted itself.
Instead of selling off her stock which
her father left for what she could get,
and living on it until something turned
up, she hired workmen, put the stock
to rights, and sold it at retail. People
pitied her—but they bought her goods.
People sympathized with her, as it was
a dreadful thing for a girl to do what in
a boy would have been thought highly
commendable.
When her stock ran low, she aston
ished her friends bygoingtoNew York
City and buying a larger lot of furni
ture than any one ever before had had
the hardihood to bring to Bloomington
—and, what is more, she sold it. For
the first year the open sympathy and
covert sneers of her friends were hard
to bear.
She succeeded, of course.
The other day we saw her, after seven
years of hard work. The same old
fashioned, quiet, good-natured manner,
the same M , unpretentious, oblig
ing, demure.
And yet, she owns a store worth $lB,-
000, in the upper story of which she be
gan her labors, but whioh is filled from
cellar to garret with her goods. She pur
chased a house trme ago for $7,000,
and can sell it now for $lO,OOO. She has
$30,000 in real-estate, with a stock worth
$20,000, and all paid up.
This a work of a girl still young, who
in school looked upon only as possessed
of ordinary abilities.
The Becret was, she bad persistence.
She is unmarried, and—she is stron g
minded; that is she* believes In women
owning property, and not being tied
down to what is called woman’s sphere.
Who can blame her.
Had she taken the advice of those
who consider that they have settled the
great question of the age, she wquld be
now toiling in a schoolroom, wocn out,
jaded and wretched, on a miserable
salary of forty dollars a month. In
stead of that she.is free and independent
and rich, who were
considered smart, are grinding along
editing country-papers or starving. She
is as unpretentious asever-!-for the exe
cutive talent that could do so much is
not one that blows its ownhoro.
Finally, every word that we have
written is true. The only reason we do
not give her name in full is because we
do not like to drag her name into pub
lic notice without her consent. Resi
dents in Bloomington will know whom
We mean, and others curious
can find out by addressing us personal
ly. We only publish the case be
cause it shows that there is no real bar
to a woman’s doing business if she has
bas the natural faculty and persistence.
Highland Mary.
One of the most beautiful songs in any
language, says the Lexington Kentucky
is Bums’ ‘Highland Mary.'
It was inspired by the great tcotch
Poet’s love for Mary Campbell, a High
land lassie, whose beauty of form was
only equalled by the sweetD&feof her
nature and the purity of her heart.—
Burns said of her that she was “fair
and affectionate, and as guileless as she
was beautiful.” The first time he saw
her wa^during one of hismusing walks
in £he woods of the “Castle of Mont
gomery,” of which he wrote :
“ Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumliel
Thera simmer first un/aulds her robes,
And there the langest tarry ;
For there I took my last lareweel
O’ my sweet Highland Wary.”
Mary Campbell, so pretty, so pure,
so gentle, and so intelligent a lassie,
could not but have many admirers
among the gay laddies of the uplands of
Scotland, and Burns found that he bad
rivals in abundance for her love. But
: the superior address of the Ayrshire
poet was successful, and Mary Camp
bell gave him her whole heart. She
knew of Burns’ irregularities of life,
that he had sinned grieviously against
her own sex, but she knew in her own
heart that her love for him was as pure
as that which the holy angels feel, and
she was equally confident that Bhe had
inspired in his heart an affection that
was superior to any selfish or sensual
passion. Believing this she plighted
her faith to him. determined to wed
and lead him in the path of virtue as
well as animate him with an ambition
to do great ihi rigs worthy of hla genius,
which she was undoubtedly capable of
appreciating. Burns remained long
enough in the Highlands to consum
mate his engagement with the dear
creature. He left her, expecting in a
few short months to return and claim
her as his bride. Of the hours he spent
with her he sung:
“The golden hours, on angol wings,
Flew o’er me and my dearie ;
For dear to me as light and uis
Was my sweet Highland Mary.”
Before parting they exchanged vows of
eternal devotion of the most tender kind
They stood with a running stream
between them, and holding in their
hands the Bibles which they had ex
changed, they lifted up water in their
hands and vowed to remain faithful
and true to each other asloog as woods
grew and waters ran. They parted,
how, is told in the following words of
this sweet sad song :
*'Wi’ moaie a vow, and locked embrace,
Our oil ling was in' tender ;
And pledging aft to meet »gain,
We tore ourselves aasundur.”
But meet again they did not. She
went her way to Caval to make prepar
ation ror weaning, ana was soon
seized with a burning fever which has
tened her to an early grave.
‘‘But, oh! fell death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae ean.”
It is said that Burns never heard of
her death until he was on his way to
meet her at the marriage altar. He
never forgot her, never ceased to love
and mourn for her. No one had ever
before so filled the heart of this way
ward, passionate poet, and no one ever
afterwards was able to make him forget
his “Highland Mary.” He once before
took leave of her In a poem when he ex
pected to go to the Indies, in this man
ner:
“I have sworn by tha Heavens to my Mary,
f have sworn by the Heavens to be true ;
And sae may the Heavens forget me,
•‘lf I forget my vow.”
He was faithful to this vow, find his
poem of Highland Mary is one evidence
of it. Perhaps the sweetest poem Burns
ever wrote was composed in the memo
ry of lovely Mary Campbell. Years af
ter her death—after Burns had married
and commenced housekeeping, and had
children about him, upon an anniver
sary of Mary Campbell’s death, he fell
into a fit of melancholy, which remain
ed up<?n him all day. J Late in the eve
ning he wandered out among his cattle
and threw himself down beside one of
his com ricks, and with his eyes fixed
upon a “bright particular star,” com
posed the poem—“To Mary in Heaven.”
“Thou ling’rlng star, with less’nlng ray,
That lov’st to greet the earlv morn,
Again thou usberest in the day
My Mary from my soul was lorn,
O Mary! dear departed shade I
Where Is thy place of blissful rest ?
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ?
Hear'st thou the groaas that rend bU
breast?”
How every line of this verse speaks
the deserted and sad heart. Wife, the
one who should have filled the place
in his heart once occupied by his Mary;
children, so many pledges of love which
should have called away his heart from
the one now in the heavens, were all
forgotten, and his whole soul goes out
in an agony of desire after his long lost
but still dearly loved Mary.
" O Mary I dear departed shade!
Where Is thy place of blissful rest?
Seest thou thy iowiy laid ?
Hear- t thou the groans that rend htj
breast ? ’
His heart was not with the one who
had placed her hand in his, and whom
he had borne away to,his humble home
as his wedded wife, but away off in the
heavens with one he met and parted
with in the woods of Montgomery.
'* That sacred hour can I forget,
Can I forget the hallowed grove.
Where by the winding Ayr we m«»t,
To live one day of parting love !*’
The whole scene—the gurgling brook
with pebbled shore, the thickening
green woods, the fragrant birch and
white hawthorn, the flowers springing
wanton to be prest by the feet of his
loved one, the singing of the birds in
the trees overhead, the faithful kiss of
love, the plighted faith, the sacred em
brace, the parting full tender—became
again, and he continued his song :
• Still o’er these scene my mem’ry wakes,
And foundly broods with miser care;
Time but th’ impression stronger fflakes,
As streams tbelr cbaunols deeper wear.”
Burns hastened, through dissipation,
to an early grave. In a life remarkable
for vicissitudes there are but few bright
spots, and the brightest of these is bis
love to Mary Campbell. Had she lived
she might have redeemed the pledges
her strong faith and ardent love gave,
that she would have reformed him and
caused him to give to the world some
thing greater by far than anything he
ever wrote. Even to her death we are
indebted for two of the sweetest and
sublimest poems ever written —“ High
land Mary” and “To Mary in Heaven.”
Tltlliailvc Trifles.
“The hog may not be thoroughly
posted in arithmetic; but when you
come to a square root he is there —the
hog is.”
Here is a literal translation of a pork
butcher’s sign in a French provincial
city: “Batta, junior; slaughters hogs
like his father.”
A Western paper, speakiDg of the
sudden death oi a man, says, “It was a
dreadful blow to the family, which con
sisted of a wife, an adopted Bon, and a
fevgboarders.”
“Why don’t your father take a news
paper?” said a man to a little boy whom
he caught pilfering his paper from his
doorstep. “Because he sends me to take
it,” answered the urchin.
Upon a tombstone appeared this in
scription :
*• Here Ilea John Tag, sang as a bag la a rag.”
A wag seeing this, and a stone near
by with no inscription, wrote:
1 Here lies John Tagger, snugger than the
other bagger."
An Irish jaror having applied to the
judge to be excused from serving on
account of deafness, the judge said:
“ Could you hear my charge to the jury,
sir?” “Yes, I heard your Honor’s
charge,” said Paddy, “ but I couldn’t
make any sense out of it.” He was let
off.
A gentleman, on hearing a lady
praiße the eyes of a certain minister,
wrote the following:
I can not praise the doctor’s eyes,
I never saw his glance divine;
For when he prays he shots his eyes,
And when he preaches he shuts mine.
A SPEECH FOB THE TIHES.
Delivered by Hod. Samuel j. Tflden be
fore ibe ITew York Democratic
State Convention.
Delegates and Fellow Democrats.—Scarce
ly bait a year has passed by of the Presi
dential term of General Grant, and yet that
period bas been long enough to supplant,
even in the minds ol Republicans, the bril
liant anticipations they had formed at the
advent of his Administration. The period
has been filled by a rapid succession of
movements, called by military men sur
prises, against all the watering places of the
country. [Laughter and applause.! At a
time w'hen we are just emerging from civil
war, and when there lay all about us, and
on every side, the calamities consequent of
the conflict, this greatest of human trusts,
which, when we were hut three millions of
people, filled the mind of Washington with
anxious solicitude, now expanded to the
care of six and thirty millions of human
beings, is, in the mind of General Grant,
scarcely a sense of serious duty. At tbe
olose of the civil war, in which have per
ished a million of the flower of our youth,
and which has diminished our accumula
ted resources by at least two thousand mil
lions—at a time when industry is oppressed
by heavy taxes, and when all tbe processes
of production are obstructed by a revenue
system the most complicated and a tariff
tbe most burdensome, forced upon the
country iu the hour of our national agony
by greedy monopolists, who then obtained
influence in tbe halls of Congress—at such
a time these grave and responsible duties,
are the occasion and incentive of a career
of amusement, a carnival of holiday plea
sures. They are a huge joke. The in
stincts of the Nation read the spirit of
government in little things. It was but
a very few days ago that I met one of,
the most eminent Republicans in the
United States, and be put up his hands
with a gesture that awed me into silent
attention and said :—“I will tell you one
thing between us—Qrant is a failure.” The
name of the author of this unexpected com
munication is confidential; but tbe se
cret itself is known to the whole Republican
party. Notwithstanding that grave matters
of national concern are treated with levity,
tbe administration of General Grant has
been assiduously endeavoring to work
what is practically a revolution in the most
important element—the constitution oPoor
government. I mean the suffrage by’ tbe
fifteenth amendment. They attempt, in
the first place, to take from the people of
the Skates that control the eufirago which
they have immemorially exercised, of say*
iug who shall vote within those States—(ap
plause)—and transfer that question to
Congress. They are creating a state of the
law in which, by a change of the naturali
zation laws, half a million of Chinese may
be brought into the Slate of New York
aud made voters without the oonsent, and,
in fact against the will, of the people of the
Stale of New York. They are creating a
state of the law in which, without any
change In the naturalization laws, half a
million of liberated African slaves can
come within this State and become voters
against tbe will oftbe people of this State.
Now, gentlemen, let me not be told that
half a million of Chinese will not come, or
that half a million of Africans will not come.
What I object to is that such a state of the
law is greeted. It has no effect, no practical
purpose; ll has no utility. If it is going
into effect practically to the extent of its
operations, it will be not only a calamity
but a orime against the people of this State,
and every other Slate against whom the
measure may be enforced. This is not all.
In the second place the measure transfers
ail control from the people of the State. At
present no State Legislature cau change the
suffrage laws in a State. You can only
change it by an amendment to your State
Constitution, and that has, in this State, to
be twice submitted to the people. Now, I
say this fifteenth amendment takes away all
voice from the people in this important
matter and gives it to Congress, as in any
ordinary matter of legislation. Again, by
the vague, loose, general phraseology of the
second aectiop of the fifteenth amendment
i/Unpvss inuei to liseir ttie pwtrer uf aeter*
mining what legislation is necessary to
carry out the amendment. Any legislation
that Congress may thiuk fit is authorized
under this section.
Now Congress may object to the way in
which the amendment may be carried in a
particular Stale ordistricl understate laws,
and muy appoint inspectors of election to
estab l ish and enforce new registry luws,
and may send United States marshals into
each district to govern the workings of the
law in that district and makeiloperate ex
clusively from the suffrage. I say the
phraseology of the section is so broad,
sweeping and loose that it is capable of the
most dangerous construction, and that con
struclina will no doubt be put upon it if the
Republican party remain in power. (Ap
plause.) And bow is this measure to be
carried out and made the law of the land ?
It is by force and by fraud, and by no other
means. Virginia, whom we fought and
conquered because she tried to go out of
the Union, is now considered out, and is re
quired to submit to this alternation in the
tranchise as a condition to hei readmission;
aud then, that being gained her assent is
employed to establish and enforce the same
rule in the State of New York, which
fought against her. For it is not now a law
for Virginia or Soulh Carolina, but a law for
New York, for Pennsylvania, that is to be
established and enforced by the coerced
assent of Virginia. Isay, then, that the
force is exercised against us, the people of
the United States. It is a wrong to us, and
if there beany justification fora forcible
change of the suffrage in the States lately in
revolt in the rights of war or in the alleged
necessities created by the war, what excuse
can there be in inflicting the same measure
on those who fought on our side as upon
those who fought against us. It has in it
also another element of fraud. The plat
form on which General Grant was elected
pledged the Republican purty to leave the
sutiruge question in the loyal States to the
people of these States. Grant accepted that
pledge. The people who voted for him voted
with that understanding, und at tbe moment
be gets into office the pledge is violated and
set at naught, and this attempt is made to
force the amendment upon us. I say it is
a fraud. (Applause.) It is a fraud on the
Republican party, and through them a
fraud on the people. I know it is said that
we must let bygones be bygones i that we
must accept tbe situation of things which
resulted from the war ; that we raustaccept
all the changes that have been brought
about; that we must look forward to the
future. Nobody is moreanxious than lam
to get over the questions-to pass by the
questions—which have been left to us as a
1-gacy by the war just closed. Dot shall we
submit to an innovation like this—the most
dangerous which has ever attempted in any
period of our national history the most cen
tralizing, the most calculated tochaDge our
free institutions.intoan imperial despotism,
and to take away the most sacred rights of
the people of America? Now, are we to
look forward to an event which rauy never
happen and ought never to h»‘.;.oen, and
announce our determination beforehand to
accept it, or are we as a party to stand, as
we have ever stood, for the right, and ac
cept the wrong when we must, and not be
fore? (Great applause.)
The Democracy, true to their traditions,
have in all times past been in favor of en
larging the franchise, and extending it to
all those menbers of society who were capa
ble of being amalgamated with society and
become incorporate with it as part of one
homogeneous mass. (Applause) The
Democracy have never been in fayor of
creating castes in this country, or allowing
castes to be created. If there is a race
among us between whom and us God and
nature have set a barrier that is irreversi
ble, who cannot be admitted into the sacred
and holy relations of domestic life, who
cannot marry our children and whom our
children cannot marry, ii such a race exist
in this country it is a caste, and to that the
Democracy is unfavorably disposed. It
might be of no consequence if this broad
and beautiful country were dominated
over by an aristocracy or an imperial des
potism of what quality or character the men
who labor and toil are, but when we at
tempt to establish on this continent a com
monwealth of freemen in which all adults
(males) shall participate equally in all the
powers of the government. It is a mat
ter of indispensable necessity that we have
no castes which we can avoid, and that we
guard carefully how we admit others Into
social and political partnership with us. If
republican government—l mean republi
can in the good old sense of Demo
cracy—if f< ee inalitutions are to continue to
exist it is because we areable to elevate and
to educate the masses of oar people. Our
ancestors taught us that lesson.
It is a part of the traditions handed down
to us by them, and I to day believe aDd
you to-day believe it as Washington aDd
Jefferson taught it. I say, therefore, with
respect to the Chinese emigration, I do not
think it is desirable they should come here
when brought in the character of forced
laborers or when coming of their own ac
cord. I do not think capital has any rights
against the laborer by which it is entitled to
bring these beings here, and I do notdesire
to see any class of men come into this coun
try who are not capable of being amalga
mated with our population in one homo
geneous mass. And I do doL think the
most important question is whether capital
is to be able to get raw labor at a somewhat
cheaper rate; but I think the graiyi Ameri
can question is how we can best secure the
welfare and happiness of the millions of
human beings who compose the American
people; how we can best restore the ideal of
our great American commonwealth, form
ed of citizens having equal rights and an
equal Bbare of political power and undi.
vided from each other by any permanent
barrier of class, caste or race.
With respect to the African, race now
among us we must deal with them In a
spirit of Christian humanity and in a lib
eral construction of the obligations of a
government which is just to all who are em
braced within its Jurisdiction. The only
claim the negro race has to suffrage her%
arises from the fact that they are natives to
NUMBER 40
the boU. They were brought here by an act
which thecivilized world is now unanimous
la denouncing as a crime. They are here
and we are to deal with the question of suf
frage to them in a practical spirit and on
oar principle to leave each State to deal
with that question as that Stale thinks best.
The Democracy of New York have always
beeu liberal in its policy on tbislsobject; it
has refused to withdraw the subject of suf
frage from any, or to narrow the rule by
which any have gained it; but it protests
against the doctrine that any Chinaman or
African has a right to come into tbiß coun
try and claim suffrage aa a national right
and enter into complete practical partner
ship with ns without our consent We re
ject this doctrine just as wo would reject
that doctrine that any one of them would
have the right to come in and enter into a
partnership in a private business. We reject
that doctrineas we would reject the dootriue
an African or a negro has a right to
marry our daughter without oor consent
and without hers. The great social compact
is not a voluntary compact on one side and
compulsory on the other, and we deny the
principle that the Chinaman and the negro
have each a right to enter into it with us,
and th£t we shall have no choice to say
whether or not we will enter into it with
them. We say there is a leciproclty in the
right to accept or to decline it.
I know that the democracy have been
charged with beiDg opposed lo progress (old
fogies) and that its claim to be considered
the real party of liberal and human aud
progressive principles has been denied.
The democracy have undertaken to provide
for all, according to our ideal of our ays
-temof government, and to carry out the
ideas of freedom to tbe largest possible ex
tent, but they respect the character, aud
would defend the Interests and rights of
white labor, and thpy feel that wo should
be cautious of any policy that would im
pair either.
While we find some speculative tinkers
who really believe the theory they pro loss
aud are no doubt uctuated by the most sin
cere and philanthropic motives, as a gener
al thing, if you take one of your Republi
can friends aside and talk with him on the
subject of suffrage, in five minutes he will
tell you ho does not think the poor while
ought to vote, and by the same logical ue
oeasity which determines the Detnocraoy to
stand by and protect tho suffrage of the
common white man, those who do not be
lieve In it are wllliug to degrade what they
would rejoice to destroy. (Applause.)
poBl
Estate of Joseph utle, late of
Dramore township, deceased. Letters tes
tamentary on said estate having beeu granted
to the undersigned, all persons indebted to
said decedent are requested to make Immedi
ate settlement, and those having claimsorde*
mands against tbe said estate will present
them without delay for settlement to tho un
dersigned residing in Raid township.
SAMUEL MARTIN ANKRIM,
ALEX. SCOTT CLARK,
Executors; or to their Attorney,
GEORGE NAUMAN,
aopl*CLw3s
Notice.— in tiie court of con.
mon Pleas of Lancaster County.
John I). Sensenlg ) Vend. Kxps. to August
vb. vTerm INJ9 No. 30.
Hiram L. Thompson.) Execution Docket.
Toe undersigned Auditor appointed to dls
tribute the money paid Into Court ou the above
execution, will attend for that purpose ON
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 14LH, lMffl. at lOo’clock
A. M., In the Library Koom of '.lie Court House,
In the City of Lancaster. Pa., where all per
sons Interested In said distribution may at*
tend.- N. E. BLAYMAKEK, Jl;.,
sepB4tw 30 Auditor.
78IATEOF HETTIENTUBE*, LaT« OF
Jji Elizabeth twp., Lancaster county, dec'd.
The undersigned Auditor, appointed to dls
trlbate the balance remaining In the hands ol
Daniel. F. Bittner, Administrator, to and
among those legally entitled to the same, will
attend for that purpose on Tuesday, October
19th, 1869, at 2 o'clock P. M., In the Library
Room of the Court House, In the City of Lau
caster, whero all persons Interested In said
distribution may attend.
PHILIP D. BAKER,
Auditor.
sepZMtw3S
ADMINISTRATOR'S NOTICE.-ESTATE
of Jared K. Hlesler, late of Lancaster city,
deceased Loiters Ol admlutsirallon on Raid
estate having been granted to the under
signed, all persons Indebted thereto, are re
quested to make Immediate settlement, and
those having claims or demands against the
same, will presen them without delay for wet
tlementto the undersigned, residing In said
city. EM 1 LIE HIc.t'TEK, Ailinlu’lrlx,
Or to FRED. S. PYFER, Att’y at Law',
No. 4 S. Duke street, Lancaster. Pa,
ug £3 6iw<*2wd-3iaw
Estate of Jacob LORAn. late of
East Cocalico Township, deceased. The
undersigned Auditor, appointed to distribute
the balsnce remaining lu the bauds of Sally
Lorab, Administratrix of sad dec’d., to and
among those legally entitled to the same, will
sit for that purpose on Saturday, October 30th
186 U. at 10 o’clock, A. M., In t e Library Koom
of too Court House, In the City of Lancaster,
where all persons Interested in said distribu
tion may attend. A. J. EBEKLV,
828-41 W 29 Auditor.
Notice— to the heira and legal
Representatives of Davis Gyger, late of
Straaburg township, Lancaster couuty, de
ceased.—You are hereby notified to be aud ap
pear In the Orphans' Court of Lancaster coun
ty, to be held on MONDAY, the 18th day of
OCTOBER, 18(19, at 10 o’clook, A. M., to accept
or refuse to accept the Real Estate of Davis
Gyger. deceased, at tbe valuation thereof,
made by an Inquest held thereon, and eou
tlrmed by said court, or show cause why the
same should not be sold according to law.
se29 31w39 J. F. FREY, Sheriff.
Sheriff's Office, l
Lancaster, Sept. 22, 1869. j
E. STATE OP JffftßPH LYNCH, I.ATE
of Fulton township, deceased.—-Letters
Testamentary on said estate having been
granted lo the undersigned, all persons In
debted thereto, are requested to make imme
diate settlement, and those having claims or
demands against the same, w.ll present them
without delay for settlement to the under
signed, residing in said township.
J. CALVIN LYNCH,
ANNIE E. MORRIS,
Executors.
au 18 6tw* 31
Estate of theodobe o. kbtder,
late of Lancaster city, deceased.—Letters
of Administration cum teatamento annexo on
said estate having been granted lo the under
signed, all persons Indebted to said decedent
are requested to make Immediate settlement,
aad those having claims or demands against
the estate of said decedent, to make known
the same to either of the undersigned wltuout
delay. CHARLES H. KKYDKK, Adra’r.
121 North Third street, Philadelphia.
WM. A. WILSON, Attorney,
63 East King street, Laocaxter.
an 13 <jtw3i
ESTATE OF GEORGE If EIL. LATE OF
the township of Ea*t Cocallco. In the Coun
ty of Lancaster, dec’d.—Notice is hereby given
that Letters Testamentary have been granted
to the undersigned dLthe township of KastCo
chHco upon the estate aforesaid, all persons
knowing themselves to be indebted to said es
tate are requested to make Immediate pay
ment, and persons having claims against said
estate will present them for payment.
' GEORGE B. HEIL,
Earl Twp.
CURTIS HEIL.
CYRUS HARTZ,
East Cocallco twp.
Executors of tbe last Will and Teatamentjof
George Beil, dec’d. sls-6Lw*37
Saufetag Rousts.
-A.K,
NO. 36 NORTH QUEEN STREET,
(INQ UIRER m ,B UILDIXG,)
DEALS IH
UNITED STATES BONDS, STOCKS, GO£D,
SILVER AND COUPONS,
DRAFTS GIVEN ON ALL THE PRINCIPAL
CITI 3 S .
COLLECTIONS MADEIPROMPTLT.
INTEREST PAID ON DEPOSITS
JOHN M. BTEHMAN,
JOSEPH CLARKSON,
mar 22 flmwj SAMUEL HLOKOM,
Bankers as Stehman, Clarkson & Co.
geal (Sstatr.
PUBLIC BALF..—ON.THUItNDAT, Ot TO
BEK 23th, 1869, the undersigned Adminis
trator of John Hhowalter, late of Antrim town
ship, Franklin county, Pa. decea ed. will sell
os above, on the premises, about 3 miles south
of Greencastle, along the Line of the Franklin
Railroad, and adjoining lands of Jacob *>hank,
John Hade and Mr. Crunkleton, a good farm
containing
36 ACRES
of choice limestone l*nd, all now under good
fencing. Tbe Improvements consl-t of a iwo
story LOG HOUeitS, containing 0 rooms; h good
Log Barn, 60 feet long; Wash House, nmoke
House, Hog Pen, and a Well of
Water; also, a good Orchard of choice Emit
Trees.
Pariles desiring any Information In regard
to tbe property, cm call on the Admlnlstiator
at his store In Ureencaslle, or his brother, re
siding on the farm.
bale will commence at L o'clock, on said day,
when terms will he made known by
Samuel Bho Walter,
sep 29-3LW-391 Administrator.
Y AI.CABLE FARR AIVD HILL MEAT
AT PUBLJOBALE.—On TUESDAY, OC
TOBER 2Cth, A. D., 18G9, the undersigned will
sell at public sate, at the public house of Jacob
Kesh, in Drumore township, Lancaster county,
Pa., all the valuable Tracts of Laud as herein
described, to wit:
Tract No. I, containing
129J4 ACRES,
more or less, situate in Drumore township,
Lancaster county. Pa., one-quarter of a mile
from Drumore Centre, and about the same dis
tance from the Lancaster and Port Deposit
Hoad, upon which are erected a Large Two
-tory Brick DWELLING HOUSE, Frame
Barn, Large Carriage House, Smoke House.
Spring House, Wagon Shed, Hog Hoase, and
other-necessary outbuildings; there Is an Or
chard of choice Apple Trees, in prime bearing
condition. 110 Acres of this tract is good f-trm
land, tbe balance In Woodland. The properly
Is well watered, there being four streams, one
of which is the conowlugo Creek, running
through It. Fine water is carried to the door
of the noose by a hydraulic ram.
No. 2, a tract of wood and pasture land, con
taining
SEVEN AND A HALF ACRE 3,
with the Conowlngo Creek running through
It, This Is a good site for a Mill or other Ma
chinery, tbe stream furnishing good andsteady
min' power.
Sale to commence at 1 o’clock, P. SL, of said
day, when attendance will be given and terms
of sale made known by _
sep 29-ltw-lO} WILLIAM W. STEELE,
B. F. Rows, Auctioneer.
g fl. SCHAEFFER*
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL BADDLERJ
NOS H AND 2 EAST KING,STREET
| anllQJ<d . tfW
BATE OF ABTEBTIUSOi
ASVXRTiSKKUrTB, |BiK:yfcAr pt*
anare of tan lines; S 0 per year fur eaohEfi*
ditiohai square. ■ • “
Rm Estate AnykKTZsnrQ, 10 centra UneHbr
the first, and & cents for each subsequent In
sertion. . - :
General Advertising 7 cents a line for tbd
first, andlceDtafor each subsequent inser
tion.
Special Notices inserted In Local Column
Ifi cents per line.
Special Notices preceding marriages and
deaths, 10 cents per line for first Insertion!
and 5 cents for every subsequent insertion^
legal and othkr notices—
Executors’ -.otlcoß, -/.fit)
Administrators notices 2.50
Assignees’ notices, 2.60
Auditors’ notices,
Other “ Notlces/’ten Hues, or leks, 3
three tlme9, .. -
Seal &mt.
F ABJ ?U AT £ HIy .\ VK
8 liber cuVxs at I rlvata fulo Ulh lorn) sit
uated in Quincy township. i milo noitk of
Mount Hone 2mlloi west m Quw.cy. me
road Umt leads from hambt-robur* to Waynes
b jro, 10 miles from the former ndJ miles from
the latter place. The Farm cjnlaios
140 aORRh
of as gvjd limestone land os Is lu the county.
10 Ai tes of llrsl rale Meadow. About 2d .icriH
oi line 1 Unlw Laud.
LA- OK WEATHER-BOARDED lIOU-E
wlib three rooms, entry and kitchen below,
and four rooms up stairs; .*-prl 2 Uoumi. wil-i
two pans In iheb Kt-an-ut, -ach ha-lug aplaca
for milk, 3 rooms on toos> coml floor, :tnd hm
tbe third tloor. There Is cue if the duvet
ln tbucjuuty. Also a stream running
through the Meadow. Lavg.« *lono Bank B*rn,
Waguu Hhed with iwo t'oru Cilb*, rnrrlugo
she -, double Hog Pen, i«m -kp Hums*,
Orcliurd >-f Fruit ApnUs, Peaches, Pears, three
□ Ice grape vines. The Kulhllngs are in tho
centre ot tho fa m, w Inch t» a great advantage.
Stock i au be turned tuio :\uy tl U 1 i.u tho farm
within three hundred yuds irotn the haru
yard. There is a grist mill wlthlu l of » mi-e,
3 mills within 1 mile of the farm. For further
Inform itlon address the subscriber, Qulucy.
Franklin county, Pa.
Sop t!) 3tw-39] JAMK4 A. COOK.
BEAUTIFUL
“ UREEN SPRINGS'’ FARM
FOR SALE, IN CENTRAL VIRGINIA.
At the request of \\ elilngt.in (Jordon, Esq.,
we will ofl'cr at public aiicilou, on the premi
ses. on FH DAY, lh.* lMh day of OOTUHEC,
l&jil, his beaul'fivl HXuto 'kunmuir," situa
ted lu the fiitnotis *• (;rcm "pri; neighbor
hood, in Lou.sa couuty, '■'a., -Hi mile*'.-y a
level road f om 1 revlhlni/a-tdaflon, Chesa
peake Auluo Hal I road. **■
The F.srm contains :> 7 acres of prime open
pud 11X1 i-ero-. >*l good wood ihuU. Dwelling
House, built le;i year* mm, of Improved eol
tsge style, large and commodious, cuinmatid
ing a lovely proipect.
A due Orchard ami Ciardeu, aud every out
building usually found un first-class estates,
lu good re pa ir. Locution us hcullhy an auy ou
earth ami neighborhood uoted for wtv.llh aod
rellaemeuL
At ihe same time, will bo nold ttio Crops.
Stock aud Tools, Household and Kitchen
hlluro. Terms made km wu on dnv ofsale,
NULAND, t.MUKA CO.,
Iteul iv-l-tto AgCtll*,
Charlottesville, Vi».
At ehy Deni ic a h i. e r a rh
Ul KKUKI) A f
THIN’ A T K 8 A I, K .
Tliis lluo Kurm of'
?s partly In Driunore nud partly hi Fulton
wtißhlpH, I/moister oimuty, I’a., on tho road
aulng from Penn 1111 l to Kulrttvid, 1?4 lullee
eat nt the former pluro, ami I*4 miles north
3iu Peuchbatloin Kerry. Thu improvement#
nsl.l of two substantial
‘-TON F UOIMR-t,
wo Barns, Wauon Houses, Ac. There aro fit
.ertw of superior CUestnut nmi Oak Timber'
.ml two Orchards on the proper y, Thu pl»c«
k finely watered, under yoed fence, aUaple-i lo
all farming purposes uu<i produce* well. it Is
9J4 miles from .Nottingham Mutton on the
Ptillsdelphlu and Baltimore Centnd 14, K.und
2‘{ irutes from Uio Columbia aud Port Deposit
14. K., whlc.j Is now bellig jml'i tinier cun 1 1 act;
and Is lu a healthy thriving ueighb >rhood, con
venient to mills, MlorcH, cnim’iics aud Hcnuols.
Tbe farm could, if desired, he conveniently
divided Into two tracts with tmlldiugs timber
and wii'cr on each.
Tbe present owner having r* moved to the
city Is determined lo sell ttio above property
at a very reasonable price.
Title Indisputable; terms made,easy tolsr.lt
purchasers.
For further Information address
Lancaster.
VAI.T’AKI.K FAR.TI ATl*l<fll.l< MLR
(>n SATUKHAY, O»T*>HKK Hlth, |Si»,
will bo exposed to sale, on the pruinlsiH, In
Kphrata townsnl p, lai ncusti r coun l> , ulsjut >4
o( a mile west ol 1< pliiata Hnllroud Mutton, « u
the Lancaster and heading Road, tbe follow*
ing Real Ksiate, viz :
A Farm containing
7d AUKKM AND II PF.RCHKH,
adjoining lands of Aiu<h Fasnacht, Jacob
Peitler, Isaacttlelnnu tz and others. About I
acres aro coveicd with Umber, the residue be
ing good limestone land, under good post
fences, and In a high si ale oi cull! vat hut. This
farm lies along the Localico creek, and cou
vi-nlent for watering ca< tie. The Irn pr ive.ihoiLs
consist, of a large two-stor y Mom* DWKLUnU
HUU-K, with a two t> rj s onu Kitchen at
tached ; Brick summer Mouse, lur«m>no ami a
halfstory Frame Tenanl Uoum-, Bank Barn
and Wagon Hhed attached; also, i Wagon
Bliud with two Lorn frit*., llog rttshle-.-ml
oi her uece-sary out building- Also (.-.v<i wells
of never-lulling water with pumps therein,
and an Orchard of a choice as«or« men t of Fruit
Trees in buurOiß eoxiuition. Thou are n very
large number of Locust Trues on this farm,
many ol tin in tit to be cuL. The Tumult Hmisi
and nhoi.l 17 Acres of land i>n the »n»rlh side of
the aforesaid road, will be sold separate from
the mum farm os may sull puna. Afters, Tbo
above was late the property of Clms. Bauman,
deceased.
8-1 00 of the purchase money can remain on
te farm, If so desired, at 5 per ceut, per an-
.sale th commence at 1 o'clock, I\ M. t when
terms will be made known by
seplD :itw ;>O«J BAR \ H BAUMAN.
I,L'BI,K: NAU..-ON MDSDAT, OITO-
I HER lint, istili, ihe undersigned oxo ulors
of William h. Long, dic’d, will sell al .public
Hu Ip , on the premises of No. I, the following
desirable pror.ertte-:
No. 1. A Valuable Farm containing
NINETY ACRE J ,
moro or less, of well improved mid h ghly pro
ductive land, sit ated on the ('ooowlnio
Creek, In Uruinoru township, Lancaster coun
ty, about 1 mile northeast of Chestnut Level,
udjolnlug properl leu of Nathaniel Meyer, Joha
N. Russel. Hamuel Charles nud others, six
acres consist or Woodland, and the balance la
dlvded Into eight convenient Quids, well
fenced and wtll watered. The Irnpruvt'menbi
consist of a large and convenient DWELLING
HOUBE, partly stouu and partly Frame, with
a never-falling Well nnd Dump I eridu at the
door: a large KKAME BARN, a Wagon Hhwl,
Hog Ilou-e, Carriage House, and other uices
sary out-bulldlngH. There is u line OHI'U ABD
OF CHOICE APPLES, wllli a variety (if other
fruit on tho place, which is one of the most
desirable In tills section n( couulry, anil Is
convenient to Churches, Mills, and
places of busluess of Minins' • very It mil.
No. 2. Tho one undiv.h l half-part of a
VALUABLE MILL PitOl’L iVT Y, adjoining
the above, containing
1M ACRKB OF LAND
more or less, live acres of w hlch Is good Tim
ber Land. The Mill Is a largo Tnreo-Htory
Frame Building has four run of stone—2 burr*
and 2 of saudHtooe, end all iho nece-nAry ma
chinery of all Ulniis—the po .ver being supplied
from tho Couowiugo Creek by two water
wheels, and the supply ol water and the fall
being abundant for all needful purposes. The
Mill has always enjoyed an excellent run Of
country custom, and Is capable of d dug ex
tensive merchant wor*, li desired. There la
also a HAW M 1 LL attached, with a Two-Hlory
Frumo DWELLING HOU E, with Pump a»
the d>.or, Htable, Ac., and tho whole propefer
Is In a thorough couUMon of repair. Theotbto
undivided lulfof this property, belonging ty
H. H. LONG, will also be sold by btmattb*
same tlrn.'i mid place. '
No. H. The undivided half of a piece of
WOODLAND, In said township, near No. 1,
and adjoining lauds of James M. Hopkins and
J. B. Jordan .containing
THREE AOKEH
more or less, of Chestnut HI’RGUT LAND, fll
foi cutting.
No. 4. Tho undivided half of a piece of
WOODLAND, In raid township, adjoining
lands of Jam»*H M. HnpUlos.J <tti**s Johnson
and other*, containing 12 ACRE •, more or lee*
of HPKOUT LAN D, p irt of < t ready for cuttlug.
Hale to commence at 1 o'clock, <»n said day,
when conditions will be made known by
H.H LONG,
HARRIET 1-Olfe,
F.X Ml.
Bep 22 3tw 3S
HALE OF A VALIADI.B
FARM AND MILL PROPERTY. ‘
By virtu*- of nn order of the United mates Dis
trict Court for the District of .Maryland In
Bankruptcy, passed on the lOih day of Hep
tember, A. L>., IKCU, 1q the case of Johu Hhafer.
Bankrupt, the subscriber, an Assignee "i said
Bankrupt, will oiler at Public Halo, on the
preinlsts, situate near Avondale Mlallnu, on
the line of the Western MaryUnd Railroad, In
Carroll county, and distant from the city of
Westminster about 3 mileM.''t>u W KDS
the 21/rn ot OCTOBER 1-tiU, tbe following de
scribed Real Estate, viz:
A Valuable Farm containing
173 ACRiCH, 1 RtiOD AN U 3 HQ,UARE
I'EHCHRH OF LAND,
more or less, adjoining the lands of David
siirlvc-r and otberN, and Unproved wltb a good
FRAME D ICLLINCi, a large and excefleot
BCNK BARN, covered wttb slate; also a
Aprlng Houhc, Hmokc House, Hog ID'Use,
Wagou House, Ac. All Hie buildings are In
very graxl repair. There are upon the prem
ises some of the choicest varieties ol apples,
peaches and otoer fruit.
This farm is In every reepeclono of the most
desirable and product've In the couri'y. and
lor wheat growing Is un-urpu- <•>! by n n* la
the county. Jho soil Is n iturinl> of a very
superior character, being an admixture of
slate and limestone, and bav ing boon regularly
limed and wed fanned, i- n<>w in a high state
of cultivation. It is also well watered. There
Is upon the premises at this time a lurge quan
tity of straw and in >nuro which will bo sold
with the farm. All the Interest and estate of
the a*ld John Shafer la the .Marble (.quarries
heretofore leased to Messrs Stewart, Wilson
A Co , will be sold with the larm.
Also, at the samo time and place will bo sold
the very desirable
MILL PROPERTY,
nearly Adjoining the above di-scrl bed nreml«ee,
and situate on the public road leaning from
WestiuloMler to New Windsor, distant from
tti* former üboul J mllea, from too latter about
-i mtieH. The Mill has been rocently repaired
am) ih In good running order. Thero Ik an ex
cellent Duelling with the necessary outbuild
ings, and also
4 A CRUM AND 21 SQUARE PERCHES
of land, more or less. i>-*longlng to the Mill
Property. There Is adjoining the m»ll an Ex
cellent Distillery In repair, widen to
gether with all tue Fixtures, will be sold with
tne mill properly.
Also at tli- same time and place will bo sold
the following valuable
WOOD LOTS,
which are sttunL* within a short utstancoof the
above described farm, and adjoining the land*
of Timothy Lane, James Boactiaiuand others,
viz:
Lot No. 1, containing 1y s Acre:! of Land,
more or lens.
Lot No. 2 containing 8 Acres and 2 Perches
of Land, more or less.
Lot No. 3, containing Acres of Land, more
or less.
Lot No. 4. containing fl Acros, 1 Rood and T
Perches of Land, more or less.
Lot No. 5, containing fl V re*, 1 Rood and 4
Perches of Land, rnoro or less.
Lot No. 6, contaiolngfl Acre*, l Rood and 9
Perches of Land, moro or leas.
Lot No. 7, containing h) Acres, 1 Rood and II
Perches of Lund, more or leas.
Lot No. 8, containing Acres of Land, more
or l#sa.
Lot No. 9, containing XO'A Acros of Land, more
or leas.
Lot No, 10, containing 3% Acros of Land,
more or less.
Lot No. U, contaln'ng 4 Aores an«l 3 Torches
of Land, irore or less.
Tho above described property will bo itld
free of all liens and encumbrances tberean,
and upon purchasers oomplylng with t he terma
of sale immediate possession will be given to
all tho property, except a portion of the dwell
lngat the Mill, which is leased until the flnl
of next April. ... . . ..
Terms uk SAI.S.— l One-third of the purchaao
moiflwln cash, tho balance in twoequalpay.
ments of one and two years, with interest from
theday of sale, tho credit payment*
cared to the satisfaction of the undersigned
Sale to commence at 11 o’clock, A. M.
CHARLES B. ROBERTS, Assignee * &
1 sep2J-3tw-391 Westminster,
17D ACRES,
TMUB. .M. CM'LHON,
Lancaster city, Fa.