Sut gaatastM itttdttgeww, Published eveby "Wednesday by n. G. SMITH A 00. A. J. STEIKMAN IT. Q. Smith. TERMS—Two Dollars per annum, payable In all oasos*ln advance. Tub La/ngasteb daily Intelligences Is published every evening, Sunday excepted, at sper Annum in advance. )FFlCE—Southwest oohkxb or cents* uabe. forth}. A FASHING WISH. O for the life of a Gipsy I A sLroog-armed, barefoot girl; And to huvo the wind for a wailing maid To keep my lialr In curl; To bring mo i-ceut of the violet-, And the red rose and the pine; And at night to spread my grassy bed— Ah! wouldn'Lli be divluu? O for the life of a Gipsy ! Ho gloriously free; Through the world to roam, and to Unn n homo 'Meant every greenwood tiee; To milk my cow In the meadow ; Wherever she chanced io stuud; And to have my corn-fields planted By every lud In the land ! O'for the life o r a Gipsy !' With the dew to fringe my g >wn ; And 1o have the suu for u sweetheart To come and kiss mo brown; To take osch llMlo chuld-y-chtek Thai 1 rhosu, and call her mlun. And teach her to tramp from camp t > c imp— Ah! wouldn't It le divine? O for tho 11 fo of a G 1 psy ! To lie lu tho lazy shades ; And to predict sweet fnlrmg i To alt the vllJugu maids; To give them raps of pretty Ho ver-#, A nd shawls of w<-ol so whin-, And troops of lovers to sing them song-c At 1 heir window panes at n *ght 1 Q for the life of a Gipsy ! To hunt the hare for play ; And t.» lake my trap on my shoulder And Ulo away ami away— Away to the tents by the water, When the stars b. g >ll io ►.bin - To my ghal wild crew, with heaiu no !:u Ah! wouldn’t bo It Uivlue ? O for the life of a Gipsy ! To bo up at tho dawning gray ; And to have my dog hire my shadow, Beside me ail the tiny ; To have a hat of platted straw. And a olouk of scarlet d > e. And shoot like a light through the gl.-iuat night, Aud make Iho-owlctn cry * O for.the life of a Gipsy ! 'J’o roam the wld* world through ; To have the wind for a wnlllng-nimd, Aud the sun for a hW-et heart true; To say to my restless conscience, Bs still; you are no more uiluc; Aud Io hold in v heart bm ea'h my art— Ah! wouldn’t It be divine? gUssccUnncouo. Hunllngtoii’a Fscapc. Scott, with his little army ol'veterans was Lhuudering away at the gales of the city. Wilhin was the wildest con sternation and terror. Panic stricken men, women and children were run ning hither and thither right into the very mouth of danger which they were trying to escape. Shot and shell were falling thick and fast, dealing destruc tion aud death, and surely opening the way for the Ameiicuhs. loan upper room faring the grand PlttZ isat two persons in earm-sicon verse and apparently regardless of the tumult without. The elder of the men was a Mexican wiLli u light IM of .Spun iah hlo.nl on which he prided himself exceedingly. He answered to the nurne of Don Jose Canales, and w.-n one of u.e nabobs of tho city. The man was an American his name Mark Huntington. “Why do you rofu-o, Don Jo-e'.'”— asked Huntingdon. "I sincerely love l he Dona Isabel,aud I have reason to be lieve she is not indifferent towards me. I have wealth ami a good name. What more can you ask ?” “Hohior Huntington you arc an Amer ican/' replied Don Jose, haughtily.— “Kvou now your countrymen are throwing shell into our city, destroying cur property and sacrificing our lives. Think you I can consent for my daugh ter Lo wed one of them ?” That I am an American should weigh well in the matter,” said Huntingdon proudly.” “If the city ” “It will not,” exclaimed Don Jose impatiently. \ ‘lf the city falls,’ resumed tho Amer ican, without not icing the i n' <•; raj it. ion. ‘and 1 have no dmi'u Mru it will, my name would H p. > n elton.’ 11 I in id i.o p, modioli, said the Don. Thu city needs none. \Ve can hold it against double the rabble that compose the Atnericau army. We are three to one aud have the ad vantage of position.” “Then you give me an unqualified negative, Don Jo<e?” *• You can can it nothing else, Senor Huntington. You are not the person I would choose for Dona Isabel.” '.‘Tlie insolence of his words and man • ner brought the hot blood to Mark Huntington’s face and he dared not trust himself to reply. Meanwhile,Dona Isabel entered the apartment, aud bur ridly whispered to .her father. Hunt ington heard tho words, and his eyes lighted with triumph.” “The Ann-rie ms have client trance.” “Ilia false!' 1 exclaimed Dun Jua “Dalse every word of it !” He then turned lo Huntington: “ You have my answer, Seuor. “What more «lo I care for \ ou ? J f there ia nothing else, yon would oblige me by taking your leave.” It required a powerful will to subdue the fierce anger that the insult called up in the breaat id’ Mark Huutington, but it was equal to the task. With a few hopeful words to Isabel, andueivil adieu to her father, he left the house. Dona Isabel lia.il spoken the truth. The Americans lia I ellW'ted an entrance into the city, amt were billowing up the advantage. The Mexicans were fleeing before them feebly disputing their ad vance. Hunlingum picked his way along very cautiously, for his position was a precarious one in the extreme Oue American among so many excited Mexicans stood but little chance. I*le succeeded in reaching his home, how ever, mid buckling on his sword umi looking to the priming of iiis pistols he again Bullied forth. Ho hurried back the way he had come. The Blaz.i was already a scene of strife, and the skulkers were already at their plunder. Don Juso Canales was vainly endeavoring to keep these rob bers from bis home; but whnteould one man do against a . They thrust himasideand rushed iulothe dwellling. Huntington now came upaml pa-sing Don Jose without a word followed the villains, lie paused a moment on the stairs, for lie thought he heard aery. It was repealed. >Sive me, Mark ! Why will you not Come ? ’ lie knew that voice, and thrusting aside two men Ilia’, attempted io bar his passage, lie lleA’ to Isabel's loom and burst open the door. He was just in time. Alnady one viliian lieid her with a rude grasp, while a second was removing the jew el i blie wore. Drawing his aword, he sprang to tho rescue, and after a short but a sharp struggle with the plun derers, drove them from tire house. The Americans now hud entire pos session of the city, and order was re stored. By the exertions of Mark Hunting tou, Don Jose Canales hail been but lit tle troubled by the enemy. The pro tectiou that he “did mot need,” had been very welcome nevertheless, and ho felt almost good natured toward Huntingdon. They were niLting in the same room they had occupied in the morning, aud Huntingdon took courage from the change in Don Jose’s manner, aud again broached the subject that was nearest to his heart. Tho haughty, insolent manner with which his advances had been received in the morning was again assumed by Don Jose. “My auswer was Huai, Senor Hun tiugton, aud the remarks that followed it apply equally w ell at the present mo men t.” “ I understand you now, Don Jose,” said Mark ; “ but your answer has come too late. Anticipating a refusal, I took time by the forelock. We are mar ried.” Mark expected an outburst of fierce uncontrollable anger, and was there fore unprepared for the icy calmness with which the Don received the de claration. “ You really surprise me,” Senor, he replied, but at the time be was drawing a pistol from bis pocket. “ Yes, Senor, you surprise me, and I feel that it is my duty to return the compliment. “Now, Senor, make peace with your God, for you shall soon meet him.” Huntington saw tho death dealing weapon leveled at him, and saw the Btroug determination in Don Jose’B eyes; but lie quailed not. “Don Joso Canales, ycu dare not murder me.” “Murder? So it would be. No, I’ll not do that,” said be with a grim smile. “ I will give you oue chance for your life” Tho Don summoned his daughter, and ehecarao all radiunt with her darn beauty, but her cheek puled when she met the cruel gaze of her father. «My dear, dutiful daughter,” said VOLUME 70 Don Jose, “your husband has just in formed mo of the marriage. I feel grieved that you did not allow me to be present; but then I suppose it was not convenient. However, as I lo3t that pleasure, I have planned one for myself, and, more magnanimous than you, have called you into witness it.” “Father! father!” entreated Isabel, her fears aroused by the mockery of his words—” father, you willuot ” “Hush! Do not be alarmed. Now go and sit by him while I arrange the matter for the first act in this little do mestic drama. The second, I should have said. You played the first V } Huntington drew his wife all trem bling with dread and alarm, to his side. He did not yet know the cruelty that Don Jose was capable of, or he would nothaveaatthereso quietly. Moreovor he felt capable of defending himself if the worst should come, so ho gavo his attention to Isabel. Don Jose first tried the door, to make sure that there was no ineaus of escape. Then he drew a table in the eeutre of the room, and placed three chairs around it. One the table he placed of cards. “Now, Beuor Huntington and wife, if you will be so kind as to lake your places at the table. Thank you. lwiil now take the remaining seat.” “Isabel, take the little pistol there and the cards, und then I will explain. Now listen very attentively, or you will not be able to sustain your parts.” You, my dear Isabel, shall shullleand deal the cards, You, my dear Senor Hunliugton, and myself shall play the game. That there may be nothing un equal, we exchange hands before look ing at tiie cards, and you shall play for me and I for you. When I tell you that the loser shall .shoot the winner, I know that you will use all your skill ” Hunliugton was dumb with horrorat the diabolicaldesignof Cauules. “ Do you refuse Senor?” “You surely caunot he in earnest,” said the Don, griuding his teeth iu rage. “But if you do not choose to take ad vantage of this one chance I w ill shoot you without it. Deal the cards, Isabel.” A Line r. The Dona Isabel had listened to her father in a state of apathy bordering on insensibility; and she obeyed him mechanical ly. “ Now, Honor, wo will exchange bauds aud proceed. lam really quite impatient. But one hand remember.” “It is madness?” exclaimed Mark.-- “It is devlish, Don Jose. Jf I should win, I certainly should not rise my hand against you.” 4 “Goon!” said Canales angrily. “I am not so soft hearted.” “But you will certainly spare my wife this horrible scene?” “Go on,” thundered Don June, gra-p -iug the pistol. “Go on or I’ll ” “ Well I will go on,” said Mark, con vinced that there was no alternative, “anil may God help mo to frustrate your murderous design.” “No compliments Senor. It is your play. Ha! I take that. No-.v cover this money, It is yours. We arc one apiece now. Ah! I take that, which makes two to your one. lleservo the hands and 1 am the loser, and y>u Dll-:! Make peace with your G'>d that refused to helpyou. One minute !” Huntington was powerless. He had been slow to believe that the I) >n would carry out the design else he might have been prepared. Now he wasatthe mercy of the enraged father. Already the pis tol was leveled at his head, and the sec • omls were llyiug fast. He leaued across the table aud kissing his wife teuderly, bade her good hyo. As the last words left his lips Don Jose pressed the trigger and .Mark Huntington fell at the feet of Isabel. “ A gentleman und lady wishing to seethe commandant, said the orderly, doffing nio li.it.“ “Mexican Sergeant?” “ Americau.” “ Show them in.” “Mark Huntington, as I live!” ex claimed the oid commandant, as the visitors entered the cilice. “ Why, we supposed you had left this world. Aud the lady , “Is my wife General. (leneral Isabel.’ ’ Tiie old officer bowed low, and oiler ed lier a .seat. Tiieu he resumed his conversation with Huntington who soon made him acquainted with the particulars of the little game that nearly ended his life. “By (ieorge, it is wonderful!” ex claimed the General. And the Dona Isabel drew the ball, while you and the Don were having that little backhanded really spiked the enemy’s guns, ’’Well done Mrs. Huntington.— Please except my thanks for saving my young friend Huntington, and my sin cere wishes that you may find him worthy. But Don Jose, turning to Mark again, where is lieaud what V “He is out of reach General, and I am glad of it. No doubt he is sorry enough. Let him go General.” ed an ui “Quite right. Was very angry, no doubt We are liable to it.” Don Jose has not been seen since. If living, be probably yet believes he took the life of Huntingtou. A French fo-ODcrailvc Kite £2<>\r ii l>inm-r muj In* lint! for Mstocji A correspondent, writing from Vien ne, Frauce, gives the following descrip tion of a French co-operative kitchen. The idea is good, ami should be practi cally applied iu ibis city : I have taken pains to see the'celebrat ed Co-operative Kitchen, at Grenoble, the chief city of the department of I-ere, because iu its singular success there are el cm cuts full of wholesome meaning, touching the art of economy. 1 have for lb cents, enjoyed a complete dinner after the French style, including a rich maccaroui soup and wine, a plate of meals, vegetables, dessert, and bread. ‘The Society furnishes hundreds of such daily at li> cents to workingmen and women, to bu-iness agent ', relish c 1 ecclesiastic, professors, rctir'. . ~:..:tury ollicers, proprietors m easy circum stances and students. Large num bers of housekeepers, nut wishing ] to come to the refectories, semi there j for delicious steaming dishes of this ! great family kitchen arid partake of them in their own apurtmenta, insteail of performing the drudgery of small scale cooking. The price of a full quart of soup, unstinted measure, is two cents. One eau have it of bread, of maccaroni, of vermicelli, or of legumes, at his choice. They are all richly seasoned with butter of the best quality, and the price is invariable. T.; get this luxury, the visitor, on entering the enclosure, which is a species of or namental garden adorned with 11-nver borders, has only to step up to a quichtt aud ask for it, accompanying the de mand with two cents. For this ho receives a copper check, stamped on one side with Lho arms of Greno ble, and on the other with the name of the dish desired. With this, lie applies at the ollice of the chief cook’s clerk, where he is instantly supplied uole-s the crowd causes a delay. A dish of meat is four cents; a quart of wine, pure and long kept iu the Society’s spa cious cellars, eight ceuts; bread, three cents a pound. The average wholesale price l'or beef is 11 cents per lb; veal the same; maccaroni, 4G fr. the 2(K> lb; beans, 8G fr.; wheat, 45 fr.; rice, 35 fr. ; salt, 8 fr.; potatoes, G fr. The average price of butter is 20 ceuts per lb. Coal, the chief fuel, is 50 ceuts per 200 Ib. Fork, 15 cents per lb. Cheese, joO cents per lb., and eggs $1.20 the 100. —. These figures are exact; the money paid and received being always gold. Now, if we look over the lists of pro duce at wholesale, we find that in the first Co3t there exist 3 no very great dif ference between France and the United States. Turning to the same articles prepared for the table, we see in every corner a wretched contrast to these two lists of figures. Iu the Co-operative Kitchen there is no such thing as mon opoly, because every one engaged in this market is not only a buyer and seller, but a producer. Ilia in every sense, a business house. But it is necessary to give an idea of the internal arrange ments of the kitchen.' In the middle of a large room, on the ground fioor of a building, or square of buildings, which i occupy, inclusive of a handsome court inclosed within, an area ofiabout a < quarter of an acre, are ranged the great furnaces and kettles of the ordinary . department. All these from that which • contains 250 quarts to the smallest fry* • ing-pan, are made of malleable copper. The furnace is exactly in the centre of , the room, and has the form of a parallel : ogram, being 0 feet wide, 12 feet long, > and 2 feet G inches in height. On the top, ten round apertures, variable in l size, in each < ml-, are the fire-places, with their rows of return so as to supply heat to the two large ovens, as also to the upper surface. No Bmoke chimneys are in eight, and the whole thing, seen at’ a distance, might be mistaken for a huge box. Around this heater may be seen Bix cooks, three waiters, and an elderly matron who prepares tne fruits. Ad joining this room, on all-sides except that of the court, are the refectories, or eating-rooms; one of which is large enough for COO persona. Another and more neatly decorated hall is reserved exclusively for women, The largest room is, however, finely ornamented with a beautiful fountain at one end, and pictures and mottoes round the aide 3. The number of regular dishes pre pared here is six; but all of these are very variable and always to the taste and order of theapplicant. These range in price from one to four cents each* A plate of meat, whether of beef, pork, veal or fish, is four cents, and is sure to weigh 150 grains. These dishes are represented by a copper check, of which there is sold a full average of 3,500 per day, amounting only to two cents each on au average, or 350 francs, which con stitutes the daily business of the Socie ty. The number of rations monthly distribute! is thus KW.500; makiog 33,170 full dinners, as they are called, although eight ceuts is sufficient for an ordiuary meal, and six ceuts is about the average paid three times a day by regular customers. The Green Lantern I think I am safe in saying that Paul Stanford hated me from the time we were little boys at school together, up to the period of which I am going to tell you. Unfortunately we had always beeu in some sense rivals. We were nearly of the same age—our tasks were some what similar—our circumstances in life much alike, and we were in the same classes and studied the same books. Probably It was more because I ap plied myself closer to my studies than he did that I out stripped Paul, and uuder all circumstances where scholar ship was concerned bore oil' the palm. Naturally, he was quite as clever as I was—a little more brilliant indeed —but lie lacked application, and we all know that to become a scholar requires time and patience and hard stuuy, even if oue is a geuius in the beginning. Paul had oue decided advantage over me. He was haudaome and graceful, ail the girls in the viciuity made him aware of it. lie was self conceited, na turally, and the adulation he received made him vain. Nothing make 3 a fool of a mau any more speedily than to have the women folks make too much of him. Clay, and gallaut, and courteous he was to all of them—but he coveted the love of only oue. Florence Wayne was a sweet little brunette of two or three aud twenty, and all the youug men iu town were in love with her. She had only lived in Marley two years. Her native place >v as Philadel phia, but her father’s health requiring a change of air they had come to Harley ami established themselves in a pretty collage on the Powual road. Florence was accomplished iu no or dinary degree, aud she had traveled a great deal, which is after all the best way of educating oneself. In Philadelphiashe had moved in the first society, but she did not hold herself above taking part iu our rustic merry makings, aud at the husking aud apple bees, and dances, she was the life of the company. To do Florence justice, she encouraged noue of her suitors ; was kind and cour teous-nothing more. As for me I had been a beauty wor shipper alwuys, and when I saw Flor ence Wayne I met for the first time my ideal woman. My heart went from me aud never came back. In my wildest dreams I had never imagined ever so faintly thataucli a glorious vision would ever come upon me iu dull, prosy old Marley, where nothing ever did happen year in and year out. I had seen very little of the world, aud was shy and awkward, and the pas sion I felt for the beautiful Florence did not tend to make me less embarrassed in her presence. The fact of it was, the sight of her confused me to such a de gree that I was always making myself ridiculous before her, and if she had not been the kindest hearted girl in exist ence, she would have indulged in many a hearty laugh at my expense. Once I summoned up courage enough to invite her to ride with me. I had as line a horse as there was iu the couutry, aud a good buggy, and might have en joyed myself if I had not been so awk ward. As it was, I trod on Florence’s dress, struck her bonnet with my elbow in getting into the carriage, switched the whip into her face, and did a score of other things which I would have died to prevent. She made mo so terribly conscious that I possessed hands aud feet that must bo disposed of some way. aud how this disposition was to be accomplished ■ was tiie question. Paul Stanford loved Florence, also, ; but liis love did not make a fool of him, jas mine did of me. He was always just I so polished and brilliant, and could say 1 his wittiest things with tliedark eyes of | Florence full upon him—just as well as I if she had been a thousand miles off. : Oh, how X envied him—his easy, quiet | uonchalence— and how chafed aud irri- I tated I was by the patronizing air he assumed towards me. J3ut at lust fate gave me a chance to do Florence a service—to prove to her that L was not a coward, though I might be an awkward clod hopper. Marley was a sea-coast town, and it was to avail himself of sea air and bath ing that Mr. Wayne had removed thither. Almost every fine day be and Florence were down on Point Pleasant beach —Mr. Wayne.bathing, and Flor ence reading aud watching him. ;...The attachment between this father and daughter was very strong—possibly because Mr. Wayne had tried hard to be both father and mother to his girl. Sometimes when I could get up suf ficient courage to do so, I would go down to the Point audjoin them, but these occasious were rare, because I could not make sure that Florence wanted me to disturb them often. True, she always smiled, and made room for me on the rock where she found a seat, but she did not smile much, and she had a way of looking out to sea which made me faucy she was dreaming dreams in which I had no part. Stanford was not so particular. 112 was down at the Point almost every day when the Waynes were there, and the smell of his cigar and his light laugh fioated landward together on the sea breeze. It was in July that the manufacturing company i,n which all my property was invested, failed, and left me very nearly penniless. It was plain that I must go 1 to work, and I wa9 courageous enough to be willing to take hold of anything which offered. But the times were dull, workmen plenty and work scarce and in spite of all my efforts, nothing presented itself for me to do. I was gloomy and down-hearted for the most part, and everything looked cheerless and apprehensive. In this mood, one gray Septemberday.lstroll ed down to the Point. I had not ex pected any one would be there, but as I turned an angle of the path, I saw Flor ence in a water-proof cloak and hood, in her old seat; aud I caught out In the surf the gleam yf Mr. Wayne’s red bathiDgsuit. Fveu as I gazed, aud before I had spoken to her, a sharp cry broke from Florence, and I saw with dismay that Mr. Wayne had got beyond his depth and not being able to swim, the under tide —which was very stroDg at that time—was sucking him under in spite of his efforts to resist it. In a moment I was buffeting the waves, and though I am a stroDg man and an extra good swimmer, I must confess that more than once I was on the eve of giving over and letting fate dispose of both myself and the helpless burden with which I was tryiDg to reach the shore. But the sight of Florence standing on the sands, her face white as death —her arms extended towards us, gave me strength, and by and by, more dead than alive, I succeeded in laying the old man at his daughter’s feet. And I would have risked my life over and over again for the sake of hearing her say as she said then— “ William Morton, may Heaven ever bless you! You have saved all I have to love. Paul Stanford was on the spot almost immediately—very much out of breath and very profuse in ,his protestations of sympathy. He had witnessed the LANCASTER PA. WEDNESDAY MORNING DECEMBER 22 1869 danger of Mr, Wayne from Colney’s Hill, a quarter of a mile away, and had come with all haste, but too late to be of material assistance. He hoped, how ever, that Miss Wayne would not refuse him the pleasure of supporting her father to the cottage. And so by his superior tact and ad dress he managed to secure for himself what I was dyiDg to ask for, the privi lege of accompanying them to their residence. But Mr. Wayne remembered with gratitude the service I had done him, — Three dayatafterwards I received a let ter from the President of the Shore Line and Point Pleasant Railroad, saying that I could have the situation of sta tion agent and signal tender at Bach ly’s Bridge. The salary was liberal one considering the duties to be per formed. and I was indebted for the of fer of the situation to Mr. Wayne who was the personal frieud of the Presi dent. Of course, IJaccepted the proposition. I was in need of employment aDd this place would pay me a better salary than I could hope to earn anywhere else by manual labor alone. It was a tiU3t of responsibility, but f prided myself on my punctuality aud integrity, and had no fear in regard to being able to per form my duty. The management of the switches came under my supervision, and also the draw which had been fixed in the bridge to allow vessels to pass through. By day we used balls as signals—if the draw was open, two green balls were hoisted from the standard a few rods below the draw—if it wasclosed and ali was right, two red balls signified that fact to the engineers. By night, red and green lanterns were substituted for the balls. So you will readily understand that any failure on the part of the station master to at tend closely to his duties might send some passenger train to destruction in the twinkle of an eye. For two months everything went like clockwork. I had au efficient assistant iu John Slitson, a porter who had been employed at the bridge for ten years, and knew ali the ropes. I saw Florencenotunfrequently —she often went into the city—and always came to the office for her ticket. One day when the carriage did not come for her from the cottage, I had the felicity of hold her soft hand for a moment in mine as I lifted her out. From the time I took possession of* the railway station, Paul Stanford had beguu to manifest a sort of friendship for me. I had strong suspicions that it was assumed, though it seemed real enough. Aud indeed what particular object he could have in feigning a friendship for me he did not feel, I was at a loss to imagine. I received his advances with a cold ness which would have repulsed most men but it seemed to have no effect on him. He smoked his cigais in my little private room, and read his papers there, and talked to me in a genial, offhand way—so thoroughly friendly that at times I was ashamed of myself and my suspicions. Thinking it over now, I know that “by hook or by crook” he managed to worm out of me ail the secrets of my business—if indeed they may be called secrets ; but at that time I did not take notice of his enquiries, so gradually were they put up. Meanwliiie I gained theconfidence of the corppany —1 was trusted with large sums of money, and was generally thought well of, Mr. Wayne invited me to dine at his house, and Florence sang and played for me, and I would have been perfectly happy if Stanford had not made his appearance aud be guiled Florence away from my side. One dark foggy night—l remember it was Friday and it was in March —just us tlio clock pointed to ten —the hour when the Hallidon Express was due— I heard the whistle of a steamboat, three sharp whistles and one long one— a signal that the draw must be opened. I seized the green lantern and went out—Stitson was already there, for he had beeu setting the switches and hanging up the all-right signal. “ Ease her down, Stitson !” said l— and we took the red lantern down aud hooked on the green one in its place. “ It’s cussed inconvenienthaviug this steamer come just at this time,” growl ed Stitson ; “won’t old Giles” —refer- ring to the driver of the Express— “ won’t he swear at being stopped?” He opened the draw, and just as he did so I heard the whistle of the ap proaching train. But there was no time to notice it—we were fully occupied with getting the steamer through. By some mismanagement on board of her, she failed, and had to be backed, which took up time aud glancing up I saw with horror that instead of the green lautern I had hung from the standard a moment ago, the red one was Hying out like the eye of doom ! “ Great Heavens ! ” cried Stitson, fol lowing my glance—” the red light is up aud the traiu will go to ruin, and the company ’ll send us after ’em to-mor row!” Like lightning shot through my brain the thought of the switch ! If I could only reach it in time I could send the train up the steep grade of the |wood track, and before they reached the end of it, the engineer would beable to stop. ] flew over the rough ground, and laid my hand on the iron rod of the switch. I had the key in m.y pocket, I turned it quickly and flung back the lever ! And simultaneously a hand grasped my throat and a voice I well knew hissed in my ear: “You mean to thwart me! but by Heaven, I will kill you first!” I grappled with him, and we fell to the ground together. And the fierce thuuder of the on-coming train drowned all sounds and sense ! A hot, sulphtirous breath of flame and smoke swept over me. I felt the gripe on my throat relaxing—then there fella period of comparative silent coolness, and ever so dimly I realized that the train had run on to the wood track and stopped. I put out my baud to touch the head of Paul Stanford—he who had sought my life —but great Heavens. There was no head on his body ! My fingers were clotted with something warm and sticky —and overcome by the terrible revela tion it made to me I lost all conscious ness. When I came to myself, I was lying on a settee in the station, and a great crowd filled the room. I told my story —by degrees—a 3 I could remember it, and I could see that my listeners believed it. it wa3 settled beyond doubt that Stan ford had changed the lights. He had been seen to do it by one of the em ployees of the road, astnpid fellow, who did not think of any harm coming from it. His object was plain enough to me though I never spoke of it to any one. He hated me —he was jealous of my gaining popularity, and he wanted to ruin me in the estimation of the com pany and in the estimation of Florence and her father. But he was dead, and when I thought of the fearful manner of his death, I forgave him freely. I suppose you have guessed that I married Florence Wayne, and I need not tell you that I am happy. llow Much? How much better is your farm than it was one year ago? How much lovlier have you made your home by the plant ing of trees and shrubs? How mnch better is your stock of horses, Bheep,and cattle? How much of error have you discovered in your mode of treatment of the different crops you have grown ? How much have you learned from your neighbors,from your agricultural paper, from your experience in relation toyour farm operations ? How much have you doneto aid yourwife and daughterin their household duties by furnishing them with improved household utensils, and the better location and arrangement of wells, cisterns, walks, wood piles, cel lars and dairy rooms? How much of kindness and charity have you shown to wards the needy and the helpless ? How much better husband, father and brother are you than you were one year ago? Now is the time to reflect upon all these things. It is given out at Rome that two of Ibe vacant Cardinal's hats will be filled with heads of two distinguished American Arch bishops—the Most Reverends Martin John Spanlding, of Baltimore, and John McClo3- key of New York. In the entire hierarchy no two abler or more deserving prelates could be selected for this distinction. Apropos , It is somewhat singular that the French Bish ops and more liberal of the German Bishops will oppose the idea of Papal Infallibility, while those of Great Britan and America, the two most liberal nations—are depended, upon by the Pope to speak and vote unity in favor of his certain vlcegerencv. Washington's Wedding. It is now some yeara since I visited a venerable edifice intimately connected with the life of a great man —old St. Pe ter’s Church, in New Kent county, Virginia, where Washington was mar- Lst us leave, for a moment, the bus tle, turmoil, and “ rush” of the Iron Age, and go back to the last century, when life was more deliberate, solid and picturesque. The old church, of which I speak, takes you easily back, as you gaze at it; and there is the ad ded interest of its association with the nuptials ef Washington. Old St. Peter’s was built as far back as the year 1703, and is a long, low building, ol ‘ sun dried bricks/ brought over from England, as was then the habit, with a steep roof, and walls em browned with age, A square tower rises above the vestibule, on a level with the ground, and in this tower is the vestry room, to which you ascend by a lofty flight of ancient and creak ing steps. Crowning the tower is a sort of steeple, surmounted by crossed rods, bearing the letters “ N. S. E. W./’ and on the summit of all is a small portion of the old weather cock, which probably veered in the wiudsof the last century. Thesurroundingsof thetime-honored edifice are as antique as the building, which stands on its wooded knoll, with the sturdy air of a veteran, careless of “time and tide.” On tho bricks are carved names and dates, by hands that have long crumbled. One of these dates is 1739. On a great tombstone beneath the oriel window, walJed up, for some reason, is a coat-of*arms, raised in bass-relief —a shield with a “lone star” upon it; above a knight’s vizard, with the coronet —of a duke or marquis apparently —encircling it, and surmounting all, the grinning head of a wolf. On this stone, dark and dura ble, as was the marble of that epoch, is cut the date “1716." Not a tracery has grown dim —not a letter or figure is in distinct. The wolfs tongue lolls out fiercely, his eyes glare, his teeth snarl. The rain and snow and sunshine have fallen for a century and a half on the knightly helmet and the head of the wolf—and neither rain, snow, or sun shine has affected the iron surface. These objects take you back to a re mote period, very unlike tlie present, when buildings, tombstones, and all other things, seem constructed of trau sient materials. Another memorial of old times is the grove of great oaks around the church. What picturesque scenes these must have witnessed ! lie* neath their spreading boughs, genera tion, rolled the chariots of old-time Virginians, drawn by their four horses, aud containing tne squire, hi 3 wife, and maidens and children attending church To these boughs were tethered the bri dles of thorough-bred hor3e3, ridden by gallant youths. Yonder the chariots discharged their burdens —the pompous old lord of the manor, the good dame, his wife, aud the little beauty, their daughter, in her great hooped dress, squure bodice, powdered hair, aud red heeled shoes, which shedisplays as she j raises her silk dress aud scarlet “ p'- . ! coat," as they called it then. You see her still, in imagination, us she smiles aud nods, slaying with her bright eyes theyoutbs with Embroidered coats, long waistcoats and ruffles, who hasten to assist her, aud contend for the touch of the pmall baud. All that has passed away ; theyoutbs aud maidens are long dead. The par son no more sweeps down the vestry stairs, or thuuders, or drones in his high, tub-shaped pulpit above Lhelisteuers in the lofty pews. Squire and dame, and parson, aud gallaut lovei, and little beauty live aloue in tbo memory of the great oaks, which waved above them, wave still, and willprobably rustle their leaves in the winds of another century. Such is aud was old St. Peter’s Church —an interesting relic to day of a time that is long dead; interesting, more than all, as I have said, as having been the sceue of Washington’s wedding. The iucident which led to that event is worth narrating, and something of a comedy, I hope, in relating it, I shall not be charged with “irreverence” to the memory of the famous bridegroom. He was a mau of lofty pride, august dignity—a very grand type of god, aud “fell in love” at least twice in his life, like the humblest of his species. This was his second love, and something of romance w T as connected with tiieorigin of the ailair. It was in the spring of 17oS. Mr. Custis, a planter, reaidiug at his estate called the “ White House,” was riding out one morning, when he met, coming from the northward, a young gentle man of military appearance, excellent iy mounted, and accompanied by a gaunt old servant, or sargeant, who rode respectfully a few paces behind his master. The newcomer was Colonel George Washington, on his way from Winchester to Williamsburg, and his attendant. Bishop, formerly Braddock’s body servant, now his own. Washington was twenty-five at that time, and a young man of great sedate ness and dignity. He was in chief command on the frontier, and saw or thought little of the fair sex. But, on thisspring morning of 1755, his “ time had come. Mr. Custis greeted him, and iuvited him to stop at the White House. He would do so with pleasure, but itwoulu i be for half an hour ouly. His buaiuess was pressing; he must hasten on to see his excellency at Williamsburg. And conversing, they rode back and reached the White House. Here Washington dismounted, and delivered his horse to Bishop, with orders to wait him there; he would continue his journey in half an hour. Bishop saluted gravely, with hand raised to his hat; his master en tered I he house, and the half hour pass ed - the old servant waiting patiently. His master did not, however, make his appearance. The event wa3 un heard of. Col. Washington was the soul of punctuality ; he was on pressing public business; what could be the meaning of this strange and unwonted delay? An hour passed—two hours—passed. Col. Washington did not re-appear.— But a servant came out and delivered an order from him to the motionless old body-guard. He would conduct the horses to the stables ; his master would dine, and possibly spend the night with Mr. Custis. Bishop obeyed—the world was clearly coming to an end ! —and Col. Washington was the guest of the own er of the White House. On the next morning, Bishop in obe dience to orders to that effect, saddled .ho horses and waited before the door for the Colonel, who designed setting out, he said immediately. Two hours afterward, there was still no signs of him. Then the servants came again, and directed the horses to be led back ; Colonel Washington would remain to dinner and then continue his journey. The day was far spent when the young soldier made his appearance, and vault ed into the saddle, ‘Tall, vigorous, graceful, and with a certain loftiness of port, even then distinguishable, he was a gallant looking cavalier—one whom any woman might admire. One was gazing at him through the window—a young lady of about his own age, with rosy cheeks, bright eyes, hair carried back from the forehead and a neck resemblingsnow, above the square cut bodies. The young .colonel reined his high spirited horse, nearly throwing him upon his haunches, made aenurte ous salute with his.right hand, fit was nearly the attitude of a bronze statue of him afterwards,) and galloped away thinking probably of the bright eyes and lips. “Colonel George Washington, of Mount Vernon,” had seen for the first time Mrs. Martha Custis, the beautiful young widow, who, a year after, was to become his wife. Tradition related that the ceremony took place in old Sc. Peter’s Church, which we heve referred to in the be ginning of this sketch. The scene was a brilliant one, and may interest the reader. It was in January, 1759. The Rev. Dr. Mossom, parson of the parish, attended in full canonicals, and the pair advanced, followed by a bevy of beauties and groomsmen. Washington wa3clad in aßUitof blue-andsilver, lined with red silk ; his waistcoat was embroidered; his knee and shoe buckles were of gold; his hair was powdered ; and he wore a dres9-sword. The bride was dressed in white satin, with rich pointed-lace ruf fles; pearl ornaments in her hair; pearl necklace, ear rings, and bracelets; white satin shoes, with high heels and dia mond buckles; and was followed, as has been said, by an array of beautiful , and richly dressed girls, leaning upon the arms of groomsmen, in costume as imposing. The vice-regal Governor of Virginia, in a suit of Bcarlet, embroids ered with gold, with huge bag wig and dress-sword, was Been in the midst of a number of officers of the English army and navy; and a great crowd of what were then called.” thegentry”—friends and relations of the bride and groom— filled the church, all intent upon the “interesting ceremony.” One person age has been forgotten—Bishop, the old body-servant, fie, too, was.present. With folded arms, and much emotion on his aged face, ho gazed at the cere mony with the rest. It was soon ended and the brilliant crowd flowed forth from the old church. Tradition relates that the bride and as many of her fair attendants as cculd do so entered the greU chariot, which rolled off, drawn by its six horses ; whilethe bridegroom, fondered horseback, mounted the gptondid Eng lish charger bequeathed to him by Braddock, and cantered after the coacb, atteuded by a number of gallant youths Such was that picturesque scene in the life of the “Father of his country.” We see bo much ot the great soldier, statesman, and ruler, that it is pleasant to catch a glimpse of the lover and bridegroom. Why not? One phase of the individual—tbo public and official phase —presents only the profile ; to ob tain the full likeness, the other phase must be delieneated, too. The unrea sonable theory has been to regard George Washington as au abstraction of patriotism and virtue, when he was a man like other men, with strong pas sions and human sympathies and in firmities. The result has been that he has failed in a measure to impress the heart. Men admire, but are chilled by him—by thatgraud bronze statue under which a heart never beat. Such an idea is a fallacy. Few human beings have ever felt more deeply than Washington. He loved warmly, and, if lie did not hate bitterly, it was because his moral nature revolted from hatred, the sister ofinjustice, and his immense self-control enabled him to rule himself. But this moral discourse is apart from the aim of the little sketch here pre sented. If that sketch be without “historic importance,” it may claim, perhaps, the merit of being character istic. The contrast at least is some thing. Few men are left of that mau's mould, and our weddings to day are prosaic. Blue and silvercoat, with red silk lining, are not the fashion. Six horse chariots have disappeared. All that brilliant life of the past has faded iuto the unpicturesque nineteenth cen tury, and the poetry, splendor, aud ro mance, have all turned to prose. But the great oaks and old church, lost in the wilds of New Kent, are still there. Beneath the trees flashed that brilliant cortege of old days—in that building George Washington placed the ring on the finger of his bride. All has passed away now ; the stately aud beautiful figures have long lain down in their tombs, but the stubborn trunks, with their ancient inscriptions, remaiu to recall the life of the past. — from Ap platan's Journal. Fashions fur Janaary The great change that has takeu place in the styles since last .winter is more than ever apparent, now that we see the costumes cn masse upon the street or in drawing room. It is four years now since the change from hoops, which had become some what more moderate, took place, to.the perfectly plain gored, or, as it was called, Princcssc skirt. We well remember the excitement the first two or three created in the salons, and the contrast with the bell shaped garments generally worn. The PrLncesse dress was, however, found too restricted, and little round aprons, called “Free Masons,” were introduced, which were the beginning of the present upper skirt, with its round tablier and not ungraceful panicr. The change from a short aprou and a straight cut gored skirt to a short upper skirt, and a petticoat with some fullness iu, does not seem so very great, but it is very apparent when the skirts and paniers and sashes, and all the frills aud furbelows thereuuto belonging, are multiplied by the number of ladies who wear them. The high, rich colors, too, have much to do with the warmth of effect pro duced by this season’s style of dress. Bright blues, browns, and Scotch plaids, with a good deal of scarlet in it, are re lieved a little by a mixture of black or gray, but the prevailing tone is high, full and striking. Garnet and dark green cloths and costumes are so in vogue, and produce a fine effect, trimmed with velvet aud fringe of the same shade. The suit gen erally consists ofa round skirt, trim med with two flat plaited flounces, each headed with two rows of velvet, an up per skirt forming an apron and side paniers , and a mantle fitted to the waist, at the back. Mantle and upper skirt are trimmed with velvet aud fringe, and there is a double square bow with wide ends attached to where the mantle is fastened at the back. The bodices for rather dressy toilettes are generally made open in front, either in a square shape or a ehalc, with revers. The cuemisettes wore with such bodi ces are cut of the same shape ; they are trimmed with a wide strip of insertion, edged round the bottom with a deep bordor of Yalencennes lace, jand round the top with a very narrow border of the same. This arrangement leaving the throat partly bare, a necklace or a large cross or locket is worn round the neck. Street toileta are very costly. It is is not uncommon to see black Lyons velvet suits worn with rich tunicea of bright blue or dead black satin with heavily fringed ends. Fur is very fashionably used for trim ming cloth and velvet. The new French circular is the newest form of wrap.— They form a sortof double circular—cr, rather, a close cut rotonde, not very long, with a cape only a quarter of a yard less in depth. The material is al ways Scotch plaid, the “Victoria 5 * or “scarlet,” and the cape, orsecond circu lar, is trimmed with a haudsome wool en fringe, containing the colors. There is no hood, but the heavy Scotch cord and tassels are thrown back. Narrow black or white Astrachan collar aud fringed muff look well with these gay little cloaks. The “ Roman ” cloak has no sleeves sleeves can bo inserted, but only at the sacrifice of its distinctive character. It is drawn in at the back, but falls loosely fromtheshoulders, and is altogether one of the most graceful garments ever im ported, The finest model is made in Dlack velvet, richly trimmed with lace. Burnooses and short double capes of black cashmere and cloth are orna mented with rows of very wide black silk braid, imitating stripes of close cro chet, and edged on either side with a narrow gold band; the upper cape is slit open in the middle of the back up to the neck ; it falls over the arms, which are passed through openings in the un der cape. Thi9is a very new model. — Dcmorest's Monthly for January . THE PESSSILTAMA CSALTBADK Tlio Frudactlon for the Tear 1860 Four- teon Million 'lona. The coal trade, with the close of naviga tion, is slacking olf materially, yet the or ders for, and the shipment of, coal from this point are considerably in excess of the current receipts. For the last three days of last week there was quite an increaseof or ders for coal, fully maintaining prices. There has been only a moderate supply of vessels at Port Richmond, the cold snap a week or ten days ago was received by cap tains as n caution not to venture too iar north. The consequence was, freight charges North were held high, and an indifference to load South, except to open ports, generally prevailed.— The few days of warmer weather since have produced some change in this respect, and vessels are more numerous at about last week’s rates. A number of vessels are ou their way back from Northern ports, aud shou[d they return to this port, venturing another trip, instead of stopping at the in lets where they belong, laying up for win ter quarters, the supply of vessels here may be so increased as to put down freightp.— The coal trade by winter, however, may be considered over. The Reading Railroad brought down for the week 86,042 tons, against 127,777 tons for the previous week, &Qd 123,261. tons since the Ist inst., the beginning of the company’s fiscal year, fagainst 61,170 toos to cor responding time last year—an increase of 62,091 tons. This is starting the new fiscal year favorably. The Schuylkill Canal shipped for the week 17,894 tons, against 29,427 tons the previous week, and for the season 692,659 tons, against 986,441 tons to same date in 1863—a decrease of 293,785 tons. The entire tonnage of all the carry ing companies for the week was 409,472 tons, against 398,571 tons the previous week. As some of the companies have ended their fiscal years weomitrthe aggregate annual tonnage until the end of the year, when the account can be more accurately presented. The annual anthracite production for 1869 will probably be abont 14,000,000 tons—a anarier of a r miUion of tons (more or less) ghort Of the tonnage of IS6S.— Philadelphia Leiger, The Fifteenth Amendment. The President responded yesterday to the resolution of the House of Representatives requesting information as to what State Legislatures bad ratified the proposed Fif teenth Constitutional Amendment. The President’s information was in a crude state, and, besides, omitted to include the ratification by the State of Alabama, which took place November 16. We present an analysis of tbe record, in order to afford: inquirers an idea of the real situation on the amendment: There being thirty-seven States in tbe Union, and the Constitution requiring the assent of three-fourths of the States to give effect to a proposed amendment, tbe ratifi cation by the Legislatures of twenty-eight is therefore necessary. The action of the several States during the year 1860 has been as follows ; STATES WHICH HAVE RATIFIED THE AMENDMENT. 1— Nevada March 1 2 Louisiana March 1 3 West Virginia March 3 4 North Carolina March 4 5 Illinois March 5 G—Michigan MarchC 7—Wisconsin MarohO S—Maine March 11 9—South Carolina March 11 10— Pennsylvania March 11 11— Massachusetts March 12 12 —Arkansas March 1c 13— Connecticut May 13 14— Florida June 14 15— New Hampshire July 1 IG—Virginia October 7 17— Vermont October 13 18 — Alabama November 1G STATES WHOSE RATIFICATION HAS BEEN DEFECTIVE. 1— Kansas February 27 2 Missouri March 1 STATE WHOSE RATIFICATION HAS BEEN ILLEGAL. I—lndiana May 14 STATE WHICH HAS RATIFIED BUT WHICH WILL RESCIND. l—New York April 14 STATES WHICH HAVE REJECTED THE —Delaware March 1 Kentucky March 12 —Georgia March 18 —Ohio April 30 —Tennessee November 1G STATES WHICH HAVE NOT YET VOTED. —California. r>—Nebraska. •lowa. 7—New Jersey. -Maryland. B—Oregon. 9—Rhode Island 10—Texas. 4 Minuesota. 5 Mississippi. In the above list the States of Missouri and Kansas aro classified as having imper fectly ratified tbe amendment. The Legis lature of Missouri failed to act upon tbe second section, and in Kansas the same secliou was imperfect when ratified. These defects will be remedied when tbe Legisla tures of both States convene next month. This will give the amendment the assent of twenty States without further question. Of the States which are yet to take ac liou, lowa, Minnesota, Mississippi, Ne braska, Khode Island and Texas, may bo counted upon for ratification. With these twenty-six States in all secured, but two more are required to make the amendment apparently a part of the Constitution. — These the Radicals undoubtedly expect to oblain from Indiana, whose illegal action may bo ignored; New York,' whose right to rescind may not be recognized ; Ohio, which is expected to reverse the action of its last Democratic Legislature; or Georgia, about which further reconstruction legis’a tion is in progress. It would seem, therefore, from this state ment of the situation, that the fifteenth auieud moot is pretty certain to be declared adopted before the beginning of next spring. A graye question will then arise as to tbe constitutionality of the ratification by tbe ten reconstructed States. The Con stitution presupposes freedom of action by a State iu Us ratitication of a proposed amendment, and the legislation of Con-, gross lias the effect of coercion. The status of Indiana and New York in relation to the amendment will also be in dispute. Should the Secretary of State, therefore, on the basis of this record, issue his certificate of the fiuul adoption of the amendment, the validity of his action would still be open to doubt, and the whole question would be open to the future action of the Supreme Court or a Democratic Congress.—A. Y, World. -—I '- 1 : How .Much Is tue Nuvy Coatlujr r#? The Secretary of the Navy in his annual report omits the usual statement of tbe bal ances iu the Treasury on the 30lh of June, 18G9, to the credit of the Navy Department. Without such a statement the actual ex penditure of the Department during the fiscal year cannot be reckoned. By the act of June 17, 1868, there was for the maintenance of the Navy aud the Navy 1 Department, §17,356,350. Mr. Robeson says i “the sum of twemytseveu million eight hundred and eighty thousand six hundred and fiftv-eight dollars was expended up to the first of December.” But that enlightens no one as to the expenses during the year for which appropriations were made, flow much of this §27,850,000 was expended dur ing the fiscal year, or what amount was ex pended from the 30th of June, IS6S, to the 30ih of Juue, 1869, no one is permitted to know. All is in the dark—all is a confused jumble. Whether the Department limited its expenditures to the §17,356,350 appropri ated duriug the fiscal year, or whether it has exceeded the appropriation by millions is not clearly stated. The Department shriDks from a frank and truthlul state ment of facts, which has been faithfully made by former Secretaries. This subject deserves particular attention ou account of the almost daily hosaunas to the Secretary of the Navy, and especially to Vice-Admiral Porter, on account of the wonderful economy practised by the De partment. The noisy and constaut reitera tiouofthe economy of that Department was itself suspicious. The suppression of essential facts aud the confused muddle of the report aro still more suspicious. An honest, truthful statement of the balance in the Treasury ou the 30th of June, the close of th& fiscal year, will enable Congress and the country to know precisely what has been expended, aud whether the Depart ment has been managed within the legal appropriation of Congress. Did the expenditures of the Navy Depart ment for the fiscal year ending the 3Jth of Junto last exceed §17,356,350, the sum ap propriated by Congress ? No one can tell | from the Secretary’s report. If the Depart I meut spent more than that amount, it is im portant to know how much more, for what purpose, aud by whut authority. The appropriation for the lust year was §17.356.350, but the Secretary says: “The sum of §27,880,658 was expended up to the Ist of December, of which amount §7,799,373 h;:s been refunded to tho Treasury.”— llow refunded ? Did the Secretary spend §10,524,308 over and above the appropria tion for the year endiug the 30lh of June la-t? and has he beeu compelled to “re fund” §7,799,373 from the appropriations of the corrent year? Ifso, one of the reasons for the jumbled statement of the report, and, for suppressing the usual and necessary ex hibit of the balances in the Treasury, is apparent. The Secretary feared to make publio the fact that the Department had transcended its authority, and in these days of national indebtedness had dipped its hands in the Treasury, and taken there from millions of dollars which it has been compelled to “ refund” from this year’s ap propriation. Itlsun unpleasant fact—un pleasant for tho taxpayers as well as the Secretary; and it is not surprising that a weak and timid man should be reluctant to state it, especially after the almost daily declarations of the great economy and great efficiency of the Navy Department since Vice Admiral Porter has managed if. No doubt that §10,524.308, or the “refund ed” §7,799,373, would give increased effici ency ; but Congress and the country were opposed to this increasedjexpense. The in creased efficiency has cost the country an immense sum. i Now, if this same “ refunded ” §7,799.373, is taken from the appropriation of $15,870,- 531.60, which is the sum set apart for the current year, there was actually on the Ist Of July laßt but §8,071,158.60 remaining to the credit of the Navy and available for this year’s expenses. This sum must be already exhausted, and the Department is actually in or very near a state of collapse. It would have been more commendable In the Secretary and the Vice-Admiral whom President Grant detailed to super vise the Department to have confessed the truth—acknowledged that they had not re stricted their expenditures to the legal np propriations—that they had disregarded the action of Congress and were not gov erned by it, instead of suppressing the truth, or trying to evade it by omitting the usual exhibit.— N. Y. Sun. Decline In Government Bonds. Government bonds continue to steadily settle down to lower prices. The quotations of prices are little more than nominal, tho actual transactions in bouda being very light, and the market entirely devoid of speculative interest. Some of the New York papers, we notice, ascribe this retro grade moyement to the effect of tho bold and extensive frauds just brought to light in that city, in reference to the State Boun ty loan and thestolen registered 5 20 United States bond.-'. Disclosures of this character are certainly calculated to shatter confi dence with capitalists, but there is proba bly more reason for this depression in the price of bonds in the steady decline of gold than In tho exposure of frauds, huge and glaring as they confessedly are.— Philadel * phia Ledger. George McClure, a young man engaged as brakesman on the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad, had the thumb&nd In dex finger of his right hand terribly mash ed, the 10th inst., between the bumpers of two cars which he was coupling together. The young man resides at Birdsboro,* where the accident happened; NUMBER 51 Tbe Respite of Dr. Pant Nchoeppe—Wtini > Ibe Governor Nn;a-1 he Case of Adtuu Tltns, the Hnrdorer of Henry atnlttu— Seizure of the Bam Trlmnph. Philadelphia, Dec. 15.—The ram Tri nmph is now in the custody of a deputy United States Marshal, by virtue of a writ issued by United States Commissioner Charles H. Clark. The writ was issued upon a claim for wages on the part of some of the officers, previous to the transfer ot the vessel to the Haytien authorities'. A hearing of the case was to have been had to day, but was postponed mitll Friday Carlisle, Pa., Dec. 15.—A special mes senger left the capital this morning for Carlisle, bearing with him the official letter of Gov. Geary, directing sheriff Thotnp I son, to return the death warrant in the I caso of Dr. Paul Scboeppe, who was to huve been hanged on Wednesday next for the murder of bis betrothed wife, Miss Marin M. Stiunecke. His respite is understood to be for an indeliuite period, or at least until the Supreme Court has taken action ou the recent motion made by counsel for the de fense and Attorney General Brewster joint ly. It is admitted here that never bus a caso occurred in which such a pressure has been brought to bear upon the Govern or in ord«r to secure a respite. Every mail has brought petition upon petition, and every train Ims borne some delegation, beseeching executive clemency. Yesterday Governor Geary was closeted for several hours with a gentleman from Ph\Ud«lpida who has taken an active interest in this anti execution movement. At the oxpira tion of the interview the Governor signified his intention, on the reception of the official notification from the Supreme Court that that tribunal had granted the writ of certi orari, of respiting the o mdenmed man. Duriug the conversation ibo Governor is understood to have animadverted pretty strongly upon the course pursued by the newspapers of the State upon his pardon record. lie also said that a great hubbub had been raised with reference to bis course in this case. He alluded to the fact that no dirtet application had been made to him for a respite, but on the contrary every one seemed 1 to demand an unconditional par don. So far, ho had been unable to see his way sufficiently clear to grant such a ro quest. A gentleman just from Carlisle states that tichcoppe, who knew nothing about the action of the Governor, was very sanguine that a respite would be granted, and if the verdict was set uside ho tell con vinced that he could place a clean record beforelho public, as tbo recently discovered testimony, both as to the facts of tbo ease and the question of poison, wus very im portant. An application has beou undo cr is about to be made to the Governor to also respite Adam TitU3, who was to have been a part ner of Scliccppo on the scaffold inlCarlisle, on Wednesday next. Thu caso of this un fortunate man has been completely hidden by the excitement which bus beou raised in consequence of the recant movements with reference to Schmppo. Titus was a resident of Southampton township, Cum berland county, and in Jauuary last wont to the residence of Henry Stahm, which was in the neighborhood, and after knock ing him down with the polo of an nxe sev ered his head from the body. Titus was arrested after considerable difficult}-, and jocked up in the Carhslo jail, where he act ed like a madman, destroying everything that came within his reach, llis trial was fixed to follow thatof ftebmppe. According ly, on the retirement of the jury in the above case, Titus was arraigned, and coutrary to the expectations of everybody, entered a plea of guilty. Judge Graham directed this plea to be entered ou the docket of the court, and sentenced Titus to death. Thu appli cation for respite is based upon the allege tion that tbo course of Judge Graham wus an unusual one, and eontrury to the usages of a majority of the courts In this country. Several cases were cited, among which Philadelphia will come iu for a share, whore the prisouer has plead guilty of murder, that the courts have ordered the plea to be withdrawn, and that of not guilty substi tuted, counsel have been assigned, and trials directed, ond tbo result has invariably been the rendition of a verdict of a lower grade than first degree. Instances are also known where men have plead guilty of a crime which facts subsequently divulged they did not commit. It is now claimed that had Judge Graham proceeded to a trial in this case, ameliorating circumstances might have been produced which would have les sened the degree. Titus, it is said, does not join in this request, but says that he com mitted the murder, and that he is willing to die for it. The Epnnloltc<l*i»hji»x-' Un ilcnl Vlow of ttio X*r<'Ni(lcnt'H Mi fiNRKO While most Radical newspapers have nothing but fulsome praise for Grant, an honest and disgusted Republican now anti then speaks out as he really thinks. Don Piutt, the Washington correspondent of that well known Republican journal, the Cm cinnaLi Commercial, discourses as follows* Of course it does not strike his Excellen cy, or any part of his beloved political or ganizition, that the heavy bnrden oftaxu tton has been borne just as long as the good i people of the Uniled States propose to boar j it jaud tbe masses look longingly to this I Congress for relief. The epauletted sphynx has spoken, and advisos this Congress to leave;tbeairairs>s they are. And Congress will so leave them. The President’s reasoning is so absurd that it is ludicrous. The increased facilities of machinery enable us to complete with the cheap labor of Europe—argel, we will open markets in China and Japan, from which places wo are importing cheap labor. If we can compete with the cheap labor cf Europe, why do wo not lind markets in Europe or in South America ? nearer home where now Europe has the exclusive monopoly ? Again it is a comfort to know that under our hot bed, morbid stimulating those manufacturers are extending over the whole country—that is, Instead of having a uuucor in one spot, wo nave the pleasure of seeing them breakout ovortho eutiro bod}’. This is statesmanship for you. In the matter of theAlabania claims and the reciprocity treaty, we have a touch of tho sentimental statesmanship, now so popular. With Great Britain we have a set tlement to make for losses sustained during the war. They are based on dollars and cents. They cannot bo reached or touched on any other basis. The actual loss of property must be ascertained and paid. But we have a wounded honor, also, says tbe West Poiut spurs of the White House. Well, suppose we have, is that to be paid in filthy lucre? A soldierly idea, truly. Then through tbe unholy combination of rail ways, western produce cannot be trans ported to market save at a loss. The>o Canadians oiler us n highway to tho seas in return for a reduction oi duties that benefit no one. Hold on, says His Excellency in epaulets; these Canadians did not sympa thize with us daring the war. We will uot therefore accept the benetit or extend the favor. And so we go, until the success of the Democratic party will bo a political neces sity. I dou’t know a greater evil that could beial the country than to have tho corrup tions of New York, that have sunk thut city to tbe lowest stages of political and social degradation, transferred to Washing- | toD, unless it be tbe continuation of this greedy, unprincipled, corrupt organization of clas-* legislation. ! Tho President cannot see, of course—bow could be?—that these moneyed combina tions control the Government. The rail roads combine to ruin us, and deadheaded over them, the guest of Fisk, Jr., he can not see it. The manufacturers combine to op press, and entertained arid courted by tbe manufacturers, who gave him the hat, ttie coat, the book, tbe pantaloons, the under clothes, the carriage aud horses ho wore und used in the inauguration, he cannot see it. The bankers and bondholders combine to abuse and distress us, but tbe recMpient of three hundred thousand dollars from that sourco is blinded to our troubles. This is rather plain talk, and all the little hangers on and holders of petty cilices, who will not consent to a purification of our own party, will howl. Well, let them howl. It is a healthy indication. Tlic Cost of the War. Commissioner Wells, in bis report pre sented to Congress, gives an estimate of the cost of (be late war. The government spent in war expenses and expenses growing out of tho wur, down to June 30lb, 1869, $4,- 174,914,498. This excludes what the ad ministration would have cost had there bad been no war, and may be called the net cost to the government of the rebellion. To this, however, must be added a number of item?, which Mr. Wells gives thus: Pensions, capitalized, at eight years pur chase, §200,000,000; increase of State debts, mainly on war account, §136,000,000; coun ty, city and town indebtedness, increased on account of Ihn war, (estimated) $200,000, 000 ; expenditures of States, counties, cities and townson account of the wur, not re presented byfunded debt,(estimated) $600,- 000,000 ; estimated loss to the loyal Htutcs from the diversion and of indus try, and the reduction <sf tho American marine and carrying trade, §1,200,000.000, estimated direct expenditures ami loss ol property by the Confederate States by rea son of the war, §2.700.000.000. This makes a total of loss by (he war to the whole country of nlua thousand mil ions of dollars. Says tho Commissioner: “ This then, was tho cost of tho destruo tlon of slavery—the cost of compromise— tho cost of the unfaithfulness of those who founded this nation to tho idea by which the nation live?. What docs It measure? It is substantially a thousand millions a for nine years; or at the wuges of five hundred dollars a year, the labor of two raillioua of men exerted continuously duriDg the whole of that period. Ills live timo3 us much as the slave property of the country was ever worth. It is a sum which at interest would yield to tho end of time twice as much as the aDnual Blave pro duct of the South in its best estate. ” To which the New York Post adds: “ We spent and wasted io the war money enough to build ninety Darien ship canals, or to build a hundred Pacific railroads, or nine times as much as would doable track every railroad in the United States. ” BATE OF ADVERTISING. Btrsnfisa advkbtxsxxzhts, $l3 * ywrpcf quare of ten lines; $6 per year for eacnaCf dltlonol square. bkal'Estat* asvxbtuxxo, 10 cental* line for theflrst,andscentß for each subsequent in sertion. Gejtsbax Advertising 7 cents a line for the first, and 4 cent* for each subsequent inser tion, Special Non OX3 lnsorted in Local Coltunh 15 cents per line. BPxoiAit Notices preceding marrtagea and deaths, 10 cents por line for first Insertion* and 5 cents for every subsequent lnsertiony LEGAL A2VDOTH E R NOTICXS— I • Executors’ J 0ticea...._.......~.L...—. 3.W Administrators’ notices, Assignees’ notices, 2L60 Auditors’ notices,..3.oo Other “Notices, ’ten lines, or less, three time5,..1.60 Ktnteltema, John Bowie.®, charged wilh killing Mr* Rogers, near Richmond, Vu., was arrested iu Philadelphia, on tho 13th iustant. Jacob Rouble, anold resident of WilHan a township, Northampton county, committed aaiclde on ths 2nd inst., by huuging. The steam Hour mill of Buoh A Son, on Eleventh street. Philadelphia, vim recunt'y entered by buglars. Tlu* thieves succeeded iu securing?.) pennies for their trouble. Tho Luthorau Congregation of Uriß-n -eaHtle, Franklin county, lias extended an unanimous call to Rev. A. Buhrman, of Waynesboro, to accept the pastorship of their church. Tho Cumberland Valley Railroad Com pany are about tiniNhing, at their shops In Chumhorslmrg. a new passenger engine, to bo culled tho ” Antelope,” which is a mod el ot neatness combined with power. Janies Roach, who was before tho Uuitod biales Court for not having his distillery in Green county registered according to law, has been committed six months to tho Groeu county jail It was Mr. F. B. Pennlman, Jr., boh of the editor of the Pittsburg Gazette, who was recently appointed Postmaster nt llones dalo, Ru., and not the editor of that jour nal, as erroneously reported. ltev. Wesley Howe, nn nged Methodist Minister, was recently found dead in bed, utOrrsinwii, Franklin county. Deceased was known thrnghmit the Cumberland val ley. Daniel Sunderland, of Washington town ship, Lycoming county, while workiug lit a saw mill, was thrown on a circular saw, and his body was sovorod nearly In two from tho shoulder diagonally throught tho heart. William F. Owens, 51 yearn of ago, was instantly killed on Saturday night, on tho Norristown Railroad, at Flat Rock, Twen ty-first Ward, Philadelphia. Howaswalk ing on tho track at tho time, intoxicated.— Deceased resided at Koxborough and work ed at tho water works. Tiio Reading Times says, tho stono shop and boain Imuso, being a portion of tho sleauy tanuory belonging to Jacob Purvln, situated at Berkeley, about two miles south of LeesportjWero destroyed by lire early on Saturday evening. Tbo tiro was accidental; loss comparatively light; no insurauco. A New York Company have purchased largo tract of laud lying between Wal- nutport ami Lockport, on tho lino of tho Lehigh A Susquehanna Railroad, and in tend to erect thereon a largo furnace, roll ing mill and car shops. The foundations have already been commenced. Tho Norristown Independent says that on last Wednesday,Mrs.Murguret Brower,tho wife of Hon. Abrabum Brower, of Upper Providence, accidentally caught ilro at the stove, where sho was making tallow can dles, and in a fow momenta was so badly burned, that she died tho next day. She was in the 83rd yeurof bor age. Cii tho 13th inst., a largo warehouse con- (aining three thousand bushels of oats and several hundred bushels of corn, and three stables, wore destroyed by lire, in Ship* peusburg. The warehouse was tbo proper ty of Judg-i Blnir, and tho stables belonged to Messrs, Keddigs, Shopley and Hollar, — Thu tiro is supposed to huvo been tho uot of uu incendiary. A number of young men, chiefly con nected with the Herman uewspupor offices of Reading, have formed themselves into an organization under the name of the ‘•German Association for the promotion of Universal Education ” Tho membership is to bo limited to young men botween the ages of 15 uud 20. Tho drat object Is to ob tain a library provided with Gorman edu cational and scientific works. On the 12th inst., as Senator Duncan, with two of his sons, was returning homo from Cashtown, Adams county, his horse look fright on the youth Mountain, and be coming unmanageable, ran otf, upsetting the buggy and throwing all three out. Mr. Duneau was conaiderubiy hurt and has been enutined to tho bouse on that accoQnt since then. Quo of the boys was ulso Jh* jurediosonio extout. Tlie barn of John E. Hook, at Birdsboro’ Burks county, was destroyed by Are, to gether with its contents, consisting uf k>o bushels of wheat, 100 bushels of oatp, 10 tons ofhuy, a lot ofatraw, farming utensils, iSo. Five head of cattle and a horse per ished iu the il.imes. Tho loss is about sl,si)o, upon which there is an insurance of $1,500 in the Chester County Insurance Compuny. The tiro was undoubtedly tho work of an incendiary. Tho mortality iu tho oily of Philadelphia iluring tho past week, foots up 200, against 252 during the Rama period lust yeur. Of the whole number, 121 were adults, and 130 children- -71 being under ODe yeurof age ; 125 were males, 135 females, *7l boys and US girls. Tho principal causes of death were: apoplexy, (>; consumption of tho lungs, 31; disease of tho heart, 13; debility 22; scarlet fever, 17 ; typhoid fover, 8 ; In flammation of tho lungs, 20. A babe, apparently about ton days old, was recently found In a carpet bag conceal ed in a feed chest at tho County Alms House, in Berks county. Tho carpet bag contained a supply of clothing and about two days rations. A letter written In a fe male bund, requested that tho child ba called Anno Ammenda, and promised that its board bill should be paid when the wri ter got a home. The name suggested was placed upon tho register of tho institution, and tho police apprised of tho arrival. Tho latter are in saurch of a surname for Anno Arrimeudn. Tho Gray Fraud. An enterprising gentleman, namod W. F Gray, of New York, succeeded on Mon day, in borrowing from certain banks and banking Arms of that city, and gotting away with about $250,000 on ultered United States and Bounty bonds, some of which were ultered from §l,OOO to $lO,OOO. Gray is said to bo a son of tho Chaplain of the United Slates Senate. The fraud was first discovered by the officers of tho Manhattan Bank, who. it appeurs, did not deem it ne cessary to inako the discovery public in time to savo other banks or bankers, and secure tho arrest of Gray, who afterwards succeeded in “borrowing "$30,000 from tho Mechanics’ Bank, depositing three of his $lO,OOO bonds (each nltorod from $1,000) as collateral, uud sums varying in amount from $25,000 to §75,000 of other parties, tho aggregate of his borrowings being about a quarier of u million of dollars. A inau numed Pratt was associated with Gray! And they had a magnificent office fitted up for the transaction of business in the bonds of Gold and Silver Mining Com panies. Ou Saturday a woman drove up to the door of the establishment, and Gray handed her a box, supposed to contain se curities, with which she left. About half-past 12 on Saturday ho called ut the Mechanics’ Bank and stated that ho wished to overdraw his account, but would leave as collateral throo New York State registered bounty loan bonds of §lO,OOO each, and would make the account good before the close of bank hours. With the money thus obtained be purchased of Jay Cooke A Co., a quantity of U. S. coupon bonds, with which he left the street, car rying with him also 50,000 shares of tbo (quartz Hill Mining Company stock, which had been deposited in bis office as tbo basis of u movement and corner in said stock.— The §30,000 worth of bonds in possession of the Mechanics’ Bank aro proved to have been altered from three §l,OOO Issues, and ihe.se issues uru also said to have been the same which were stolen from the office of E. J. Woolsey, Broad street, about one year ago, and for which the State has given new bonds. .So far as yet examined, all tho bouuiy loan bonds ure altered from lesser amounts which bad previously been stolen. The supposed guilty parties—Gray and Pratt—are nowhere to be found, though the detectives think they have a clue to them. The executive committee of the Stock Ex change have Deeu authorized to offer a re ward of §5600 for their detection. The fuct that Gray had letters from Senator Morrill and General Butler endorsing bis high moral character when be went Into busi ness, last October, is matter of jocular re mark with those who, not being victims, can afford to laugh. Tho total loss to money loaders thus fur Is §225,000. Thero are rumors of many los ses over and abovo that, but they cinnot be authenticated. Tho United States atid the Sacs Canal The fact that the United States govern ment had no national representative vosaol carrying tho American llag present on tbo occasion of tho Suez canal opening is spoken of by tho correspondents in descrip tive letters of that grand event. Tho ques lion is gravely asked, “lias America, then, ceased to have commercial interests in common, with the reset of humanity?” As the New York World well says, the an swers are painfully fumtliur to Americans, but thtsevent makes thorn os well known ulmmd. llad tho Union llag not appeared at tho celebration it might have been sup posed Unit our people were indifferent to the work, because they never had a com merce ; but, instead of being conspicuous by its absence, It was conspicuous in its single unofficial representative, wbloh was floated by a private Pblladelpuian.— Balt, £>un. People of all denominations will learn without regrot, that tho Council of Free thinkers, convened at Naples on tbo 9tbln'» slant, has ended in rmoko. or burstedupln a row. It was called to take action in op position to the (Ecumenical Connell at Rome, and was composed mainly of atheis tical, doisticaland Fourieritoseir appointed delegates, who would not have suggested any reforms in the Catholic Church or in thebraciice of Christianity, buijwould have endeavored solely to inaugurate a revolu tion which might have caused turmoil and bloodshed, and could not have resulted in any benefit to religion, morality, or man kind.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers