THE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCEL
PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY BY
H. G. SMITH & CO
A. T. STEINMAN
H. G. SMITH.
TERMS—Two Dollars per annum payable
In all Cll-4CB In advance.
THE LANCASTER DAILY INTELLIGENCES la
13111)115110d every evening, Sunday excepted, at
$5 per annum in advance.
OFFICIE-BOUTICWIET CORN= Or CENTRE
SQUARE.
Vartrp.
MY DIRTMDAY.
Beneath the moonlight and the snow
blee dead my latest year;
The Winter winds are walling low
Its dirges itt my ear.
I grieve not with the inuanlng wltrl
A H Ira WWI befell
Before we, even OH behind,
Uotil 4, Lind all is well
Ills light shines On me from Met,
Ills low vole., speaks swithl n,
The patience of iminortui luau
outweurylng mortal hill.
Not mindful of the growing years
11( non, ithd Pal u
My eyen Ilre wet with thitnierni tern,
leor blushing, which tennalii.
ifdlt Ilu• gold or III.• hua grown,
I will 301coutiL IL drum,
Nor twit Mill OWII
for Ir 01l DAIL! I.s.
vonni no chum from 'Nairn, take
An HW1.191. her volcon van,
An In.oullllll hor morning brintic,
An fair lior evenlino
Imvo Watehes o'er my quiet ways,
Kind yoleigl ripealc Joy num,
Ale) Ilpe, that Ilnd It hard t.,
Are oil/W, at It Wit, to Willi...
ifotv .ftly ehlo the thleB of will !
How Ileltin, too, Ion! or won,
NOW ii 1.1,0111 . 41 Inv gro, ti ,1111
Beneath 11 level hoo !
llosv 1111411.1 1114.111,,,,f p.fly haie,
7'lle clamor ni the finer.!
How Oil, hard vtare.s della , e
I'll y,.111111 ryl.halle song
Mel Winks the splrlt.'s letriper allows
'rt.) sort in this still air,
Scanowleit The reslrtil 114,1 . 1 forego,.
of need II 0001(.11 onll pray cr.
The bark by lempek.l. vainly 10., I
May f0un,1,,, In the e tl iii,
And In , who braved Ihu polar final
Faint by the Isle,d bairn. -
liet ter limn %elf-helel:teet
ou'lle rig Iliettl el yeeth.
plteeetitt 1.1 ee r et In Intl intro
'Die tumult. et the truth.
fur ihn weray L unln 1.4 gu,.l
An ,1 lovi, for n that pl..
Itllt, it•L the luoilly huhit tulu
Of upright hOlll,l
1. , •t. 1111/W f1 . 011111 , :lyt . 11
1) ear Inngtll.l
And It t I.lu• wi•alciles4 of f o r 111,1 i
'l'lty ,teengtli of
Al.n If the eye must or light,
'I be eor forget le
Mulct, eleorer 01111 the ..IMM's 011111
Ylcwo Ilnu the 11111,1 , 1 car
lie nonr Tie In !nine hours or lo .•.I
To soot ho or onloor, o
111 r wnro,
And down .... Nlope, suoset !rad
At op I he 1111 In of morn!
j*Liscl[lallrc U~.
A Faintly Plot
A lovely day at a lolled sea-side re
sort. The sky Was pore and cloudless,
and yet with no intense heat; the sea
was brightest emerald; all objects—the
hills, the houses, the trees, the boats—
were outlined with a radiant clearness.
The shore in front of the little town
made a great carve, 1111 H ellihrneing in
HS antis the rX paase of water where the
halherS cnjuyod theniselves ; and be
yond the chord of that are stretched the
sea, Whose farther waves lapped against
the shingly beaches of the New Eng
land coast. All over the shore and the
sands there was color, life, movement,
animation. Children strain tiled and
shouted, dug lodes in the nand, gather
ed shell, or tried in vain to catch the
swift-darting, infinitesimal, bloodless,
boneless things in the shape of fish,
which shot like tiny shadows beneath
the surface of the small salt pools left
by the receding sea in the little rock
heibi Inliong the sands It'll steep path
that climbed the cplrs went t% merry
prOCONAIoiI or country girls, singing as
they went, their short pet Ovoids, scarce
ly reaching to the knee, dkplaying bare,
bronze-colored legs, lirm and shapely
enough to have excited the futile envy
of a ballet troupe,
It was not with these that this story
has to do, however, but with sundry
people who had fled Lto thin place front
the nun-baked el les. 'lwo lad len—olle
young and the oilier middle-aged—were
vonversing on the balcony of the hotel.
" said the elder, " I have no
ticed of late that Frank Ryerson has
been very attentive to you. As your
aunt:and guardian, I have a right to ask
you the question. I las he proposed to
you
" Yea, aunt," relined Ella, blushing.
Myers turned a little red, too, at
theanswer. Allll this was the reason.
rietrefore It had been agreed that
Frank Ryerson was to marry Sophie
Myers, her daughter ; and, Ryerson be
lug wealthy, she disliked hi see the
match broken off. Hut she was too
shrewd to show any displeasure.
"IL was agreed," she said, "that my
daughter Sophie and he should be unit
ed. It was a compact between two fam
ilies; but one which to break Injures no
one, for Sophie and he never met till six
weeks since. Sophie is a good, charm
ing young girl, well brought up, and'
that sort of thing—pretty, too; a girl, In
fact, to whom no mall could object, but
compared to you, beautiful, brilliant,
full of seduction and charm of manner,
Sophie is—though I am her mother I
am not blind—but an insignificant.—
Erank, even before lie saw you, was not
Impressed by Sophie at all. I watched
their first meeting, and 1 am never mis
taken. Now, with you he was fascin
ated at first sight. I saw it in his change
of manner, in his looks, and the tender
' ness which his voice involuntarily as
sumed as he addressed you. There, now,
let us understand each oilier. Of course,
it is a disappointment to me that Sophie
should miss so good a match ; but re
member' Ellen, I do nut consider it
your fault. He would have declined the
match, lam certain. He had no sym
pathy for Sophie frbm the first."
" But my cousin Sophie?"
"Well, your cousin Sophie, as I told
you, is a well-behaved, high-ptincipled
young woman. She has been brought
up to consider herself affianced. and
probably has cherished idols in her
heart. Whether Frank has realized this
ideal 1 know not. I shall never ask,
because I do not wish to encourage sen
timental romance. She will get over
her romance if she is left alone. Now,
as Frank cannot marry ,ny (laughter.
why, the ii-xt best Whig :a (Intl lie
should marry lily liciee."
Dearest aunt," said Ella, " you are
the most generous of women, but 1 will
not be outdone in generosity. Sophie . 8
so oliarining a young girl that she will
not be long unmarried. Still, Frank la
very rich. It would have been a great
match for Sophie. Together Frank and
l will be too rich. You must let me
make a present to any cousin. To-mor
row I will transfer to her name ten thou•
sand dollars.
ueeept. them ; for I It now to make
others happy is to be happy yourself,
aud with the entire all'oetbui subsisting
between us for years, it would be wrong
for me to refuse you. Ilesides, I know
your sensitive heart; you will always
reel you have injured Sophie, if you do
not give her the halm of this compensa
tion."
" My tome than mother," said Ella
throwing lietaall into her aunt's arms
Frank and Ella were married, and
everything indicated a happy future for
them.
" Remember only, Ella," said Frank,
" that I have cue fault—jealousy ; jeal
ousy that is overwhelming; that would
not believe in explanation ; jealou:;y,
jealousy that once roused, would drive
away even love."
Ella smiled to hear him. He was
the first love of her life; he filled her
whole heart and soul ; that jealousy
should ever come between them seemed
us inipossslble as that in one, hour
youth should flute or passion cease.
Ella was, perfectly happy. The only
shadow that had hung over her was the
thought of her cousin Sophie. But in
this calm and well-brought up lady no
evidence of disappointment appeared.—
The only reference she made to the cir
cumstance of her cousin's marriage was
to thank her for the dowry she had giv
en her.
Frank was obliged to go to Boston on
business connected with some property
he had there. Ella laughingly told him
that she would make a vow not to leave
the house, or to see any one in his ab
sence,
He accepted her promise, but did not
join in her laugh to him. The promise
appeared only quite natural.
The time for the husbaud's return had
nearly arrived, when Mrs. Myers called.
" I am an exception, I suppose," said
she ; " because I want you to do a kind
action; that, I know, is sufficient to
warrant my intrusion.
" Mrdear aunt, you know I told you
of the promise I made Frank. It was,
of course, not supposed to refer to you.'
"Well, I want you to do something
for me." lir
is done."
^ ,5 . '.• ''- ' . 4 , -3.. s
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VOLUME 72
" Do you remember my husband's sis
ter?"
"Yes, and her unhappy history."
" How she fled from her husband's
house during his absence—how he con
trived to rescue her from her lover in
time to save her reputation ?"
" Yes; that was one of youracts Of
kindness, dearest aunt—a noble deed."
"The child that was born during the
absence from her husband was taken by
her lover, a lover who had been faithful
to his trust, for he lots devoted himself
to this child." .
'• I pity bins to love the woman lie
loved."
"'They have not met for years ; the
husband has never suspected; she has
the esteem of the world, but she bus nev
er forgotten the child she has not seen
since the first day of Its existence. She
is with 1110 now, returned with her hus
band. Her child and lie father are In
this city; 018 dare not see them at my
house; firm and resolute In her duties
she will not meet him alone. shot she
yearns for her child."
"'They can came here," exclaimed
Ella.
"That is what I was going to ask you;
but your generous heart divined what
had to say."
" To-morrow evening, then, at Ro'clock,
they will be here. They eau enter
through your garden, anti she can drive
up iu her own carriage to your door as
if to pay you a visit. A few Minutes' in
terview will suffice, and they can return
the Hanle way."
So it was agreed, and succ , :.ssrully was
the plan lab!, for in not one point did it
rail. 'Finn night pleasant, happy dreams
came to Ella, for she felt that she had
given comfort and consolation to those
who loved as deeply, but not as happily,
as herself.
The next morning the first thing that
greeted lo •r was a no 0 from trunk.
"Th iny•reward ! " she Aelaimed,
:is she Lore it open. it, PUIII4IIIeII ille6o
:
•• You Inlet , dishonored your marriage
vows, and my love for yco has changed
eRIi;PH:I,I. You will never see me
FRANK
Ella's first feeling was one of bitter
sorrow, but pride came next—pride
which hid all other feeling be silent
came to her assistance, and, tearing up
the note, she resolved that never, by
word or deed, would she seek to justify
hersel for ask an explanation of the cruel
words with which he had thrown her
ofl: She had one consolation denied to
many a breaking heart—she could leave
the scene of her sorrow ; and two days
after she had received the note she dis
appeared. The world heard no more of
Ella Ryerson, and forgot her to follow
after other idols, as is the custom of fash
ionable societies in all countries.
SEEM
Mouths pwised awly, and at length
Frank returned. _News cattle that Ella
was dead, and the marriage of Frank to
Sophie soon followed. Years went by.
Sophie laid been a happy wife , for she
was content, apparently, with indif-
ferenuu withwhich her husband trtrated
her. flu Mid grown morose and bitter,
avoiding society, avoiding especially
the society of tvomen, for whom he had
n most. especial contempt. Suddenly
she sickened and died.
On the day Unit she was buried Mrs.
Myers bid her son-imhLw come to her.
Frank," said she, " there is no love
in the world so complete as the love of
a mother for hor child—Mat would seem
to sanction every sacrifice. Years ago,
for my child's happiness, I sacrificed a
person I, lovcd—one to whom I was
bound by ties of gratitude as well as re
lationship. Ileaven did not sanction
the sacrifice, since it has taken her from
all I gave her to the grave, whilst I nut
still left on earth. Frank, it was I who
separated you from Ella."
'• From Ella hid I not see with my
own eyes man coming late In the
evening from the house after she had
sworn to me
" Listen—lt was all lily contriving."
Men Irs. Ayer i told hint how Sill, had
trranged the plot so that he should
hi n k Ella guilty.
Fool that I was," cried Frank.
:•.` Von sought no explanation of Ella.
did It for my (laughter's sake."
" liut she was young and 11(114,1e
could have found another."
'Ay, but I knew her secret; she
loved you, Heaven has said by its
punishment that I was wrong.. Let no•
Luke your forgiVelleSH away with me to
Ileaven, then I shall die la peace."
" Ella, Ella! my poor„forsaken Ella;
but I am free now; tell me where she
is and I will forgive you."
" 1, too, loved Ella, I have yearned to
see her; with much difficulty 1 have
discovered her—we shall neither of us
see her more."
Ifere Mrs. Myers drew a paper from
letiettth her pillow and gave it to
Frank.
It Is her hand !"
First, with reverence and love, he
,reseed the paper to his lips, then, with
trembling hand, he opened it.
"Heaven forgive you, aunt, us I d
if Sophie is happy and he loves her tell
him all, thatlie may not despise me; if
he has not learned to hive Sophie do not
increase her misery—tell him nothing;
I curt wait to be justified till we meet in
Heaven. The world, love, and even
Frank are nothing to me now; am a
professed nun in a convent at Mont
real."
" Woman," said Frank, turning to
Mrs. Myers, "she was an angel, and she
forgave you, but I cannot; my death
and her misery be upon your soul."
Mrs. Myers died alone; the present
murmuring hope in her ear, but re
morse was stronger than all, and before
her the two shadows of those whose
lives she had darkened stood and thrill
ed her with horror.
Frank was never lieard of again, un-
til in the list of the killed in one of the
battles of the r#bellion, his name was
read by the few who remembered him.
And in the dark chapel of the convent
the pale nun, ignorant of the fate of all,
still prays to heaven for all those she
loved.
The Noble Revenge
The eollin was a plain one—a poor
miserable pine coffin. \o flowers on
the top ; no lining of white satin for the
pale brow; no smooth ribbons about
the comme shroud. The brown hair was
laid decently back, but there was no
crimped cap with neat tie beneath the
chin. The sufferer from cruel poverty
smiled in her sleep; she had found
bread, rest and health.
" I want• to see mother," sobbed a
poor little Child, as the undertaker
screwed down the top.
" You cannot, getout of the way, boy
—why don't somebody take the brat."
"Only let me see her one minute!"
cried the helpless orphan, clutching the
side of the charity-box, and as he gazed
into the rough box agonized tears stream
ed down the cheek on which no childish
bloom ever lingered. 011, it was pain
ful to hear hint cry the words: " Only
once; let me see mother, only once!"
Quickly and brutally the heartless
monster struck him away, so that he
reeled with the blow. For a moment
the boy stood 'panting With grief and
rage—his blue eyes distended - , his lips
sprung apart, fire glittering through his
eyes as he raised his little arm, with
most unehildieh accent, andfiscreamed,
•• When I'm a man I'll kill you for
that!"
There was a coffin and a heap of earth
between the mother and the poor for
saken child—a tuonument much strong
er than granite built up in the boy 'e
heart to the memory of the heartless
deed.
The court-house was crowded to suf
focation.
"Dues any one apeear:as this man's
counsel asked the judge.
Thera was a silence when he had fin
ished, until, with lips tightly pressed to
gether, a look 'of strange intelligence
blended with haughty reserve upon his
handsome features, a young man step
ped forward with a firm tread and kind
ly eye to plead for the erring and friend.
less. He was a stranger, but at the first
sentence there was silence. The splen
dor of his gen fus entranced—convinced.
The man who could not find a friend
was acquitted.
" May God bless you, sir, I cannot,"
said he.
" I want no thanks," replied the strut
ger.
_
I—l—l believe you are unknown to
me ?"
"Man, I iwill refresh your memoryl.
Twenty years ago this day, you struck'
a broken-hearted little boy away from
his mother's coffin. I was that boy !"
The man turned livid.
" Have you rescued me, then, to take
my life ?"
"No. I have a sweeter revenge. I
have saved the life of a man whose bru
tal deed has rankled in my breast for the
last twenty years. Go, then, and re-
member the tears of a friendless child."
The man bowed his head in shame
and went from the presence of magnan
imity as grand to him as incomprehen
sible.
A Mississippi nuisance
The arrest of Aaron Burr, at the
mouth of Cole's Creek, by order of
Cowles Meade; Acting governor of
Mississippi Territory, and his arraign
ment In the old town of Washington on
the charge of trettson, the self-posses
sion, ability and tact he exhibited, and
the favorable impression he made upon
the coninfunity, are all well remember
ed •hlstorical incidents. He was dis
charged on giving 'bonds for his ap
pearance, and his principal bondsman
was Col, BenlJah 0811/1111, a native of
New Jersey, and the comrade of Burr
in the revolutionary war. He was un
old bachelor of handsome fortune, a
high-toned Federalist In politics, re
tained his military habits, and was
held in high esteem. Col. smun was
one of the roost practical and successful
planters in the territory—was the first
who commenced to Improve our breed
of horses, find was renowned for his ta
ble and his wines.
His beautitui estate extended to the
Half-Way Hill. Ills lands, on his
death, were purchased by the late Ger
ard Brandon, and were given to Ids
sons-in-law, Col. James Smith and Wm.
Stanton, two of our most valuable citi
zens, now deceased. Ilere Col. Burr
resided some two weeks after his dis
charge, receiving the visits of influen
tial E.} mpathizers, but passing his after
noons in the woods. The Half-Way
Hilt, then clothed with majestic trees,
was his favorite resort. But its refreshing
shade and charming prospects were not
the only attraction. There lived, at that
ti tneolear thesumm it ofthe n a little
vine-covered cottage, a widow lady from
Virginia, whose small farm and two or
three slaves were the only remains of
a large fortune. Her husband had con
verted his property into money, and on
his way to this Territory had been rob
bed and murdered by the notorious Jo
seph Thompson Hare, a more blood
thirsty villiun even than the celebrated
Mason. She had but one child, Made
line, who must still be remembered by
u few of our oldest inhabitants as a
miracle of beauty. In form and feature,
in grace and modesty, she was all that
the old masters have pictured of the
divine Madonna, or that artists have
dreamed of human loveliness. Those
that saw her loved her, yet she was
never conscious of the sentiment until
she listened to Aaron Burr.
The family were Catholics, and there
Colonel Burr went to meet, by appoint
ment, one of his numerous agents arid
correspondents, the Abbe V iel, a Jesuit
priest of remarkable ability. Ile was
horn in New Orleans in 1739, studied ut
Paris, anti became a member of the Con
gregation of Oratory. At thedissolution
of that body by the French Uovernment
lie returned to Louisiana, and exercised
the priestly function in the parish of
Attackapas. He subsequently returned
to Francs. It is probable that Col. Burr,
in his projected 111V1181011 of Mexico, con
templated securing the influence of the
religious orders, and for that purpose
had opened a correspondence with the
Abbe, and met him by appointment in
this secluded place.
At length, after canvassing his situa
tion, with Cul. Osmun and six other
conthlential friends, Col. Burr deter
mined to forfeit his bond and make his
way to Pensacola. One stormy night in
February, ISO 7, he set forth, mounted
on the favorite horse of his host, and at
tended by Jerry, a faithful groom, who
had orders to go as far us Pearl river.
Urgent as the necessity for the expedi
tiott, Colonel Burr halted till daylight at
the widow's cottage, pleading with the
beautiful Madeline to be the companion
of his night. lie promlseeLinarriage,
101111110, high position,:and even hinted
at imperial honors, not realizing
even then, a fugitive and brand;
ed traitor, the crushing downfall
that impended over him. The
maiden had given him her heart;
she had listened to his witchery night
after night, and loved him with all the
fervor of her Southern nature. She
would have followed him to the end of
the earth, and to the scallield, and her
aged mother would have freely given
her to the most captivating man, for
they looked upon hint as a demi-god—
but, as :with most of our Southern wo
men, virtue and propriety were stronger
than prepossession and passion,
and the
entreaties of the accomplished libertine
were firmly rejected. Baffled and dis
appointed he was compelled to proceed,
but promised to return, and carried with
him the covenant and pledge of the
beautiful Madeline. She was wooed
by many a lover.
The young and gallant master of the
large plantation on Second Creek and
St. Catharines strove in vain fur her
hand. Fortu Iles and the homage of de
voted hearts were laid ut tier feet; but
the maid of the Half-Way llill remain
ed true to her absent love, the more so
because of the rumors that reached leer
of his misfortunes and his guilt. She
lived on the recollection of his manly
beauty, and the shades lie had most af
fected were her constant haunts. At
length when he fled from the United
States, pursued by Mr. Jefferson and the
remorseless agents that swam around
power and authority—when he had been
driven from England—and an outcast in
Paris, shivering with cold anti stein , .
ing Cro bread—he seems to have felt,
for the first time, the utter hope
lessness of his fortunes. And then
he wrote to Madeline, and in a few
formal words released her from her
promise, stating that lie would never
return to the United States; he advised
her to enter a convent should she sur
vive her mother. A year or two after
this she went to Havana with Mrs W.,
a highly respectable lady, who then
owned the property where Mrs. St. John
Elliott now resides. Her ex treme beauty,
her grace and elegance, produced the
greatest enthusiasm. The hotel where
they put 'tip was besieged. If she ap
peared upon the balcony a dozen cava
liers were waiting to salute her. When
her vol ante was seen on the Pasco or
the Plaza de Armas, iL was escorted by
the grandees of the Island. She wits
feted by the Governor-General, sere
nades and balls followed in rapid suc
cession, and the daily homage to her
beauty never ceased until the evening
bells sounded the Angelus.
Without surrendering her heart,' or
carried away by universal admiration,
she returned to the cottage on the Half-
Way Hill. She was followed there by
Mr. K., an English gentleman, the
head of the largest commercial house in
Havana, and to him Ott his second visit,
she gave her hand.
The vine-covered cottage, its trellises
and borders, have crumbled into dust.
The country lover and innocent maiden
are long since dead. But the old hill
still lifts its aged brow, wrinkled all over
with traditions. A favorite lookout of
the Natchez in the time of war—the
scene of a daring conspiracy against the
Spanish authority—the rendezvous of
lovers—the hiding-place of brigands,
and depot for their blood-stained treas
ure—mute, but faithful witnesses of the
past.—Col. Mt/borne in the Natche:
Democrat.
'Waiting fur the Last Trump
We have, or had whilom, in these
parts a man named Westfall, a gam
bler hyiprofession ' who osillated up and
down the line of the I. C. dr C. B. Q.,
turning an honest penny whenever and
however he could, and who, after a pro
longed Spree, turned up iu Calumet,
sick, and 'became impressed with the
idea that he was about to hand in his
checks, and requested the presence of
coins minister; whereupon one Hart
man, an ex-Methodist exhorter, whose
sands of life had nearly run out, was
called in to administer the desired con
solation.
"What can be done for me?" anx
iously inquired Westfall.
"Repent, and you will be saved,"
was the answer.
" And will I go to heaven ?''
"I hope so."
"And be an angel ?"
" - Yes."
" And will I have wings ?"
" Yes."
" Will you go to heaven too?"
" I hope and believe so "
" Will you be an angel ?"
" I hope to be."
"Will you have wings?"
" Yes."
"When I get to heaven, and you get
to heaven, and I am an angel, and you
are an angel, and I have wings, and you
have wings, I'll fly you for a ten dollar
note.!'
Was not that the ruling passion
strong in—death?
LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING' OCTOBER 18, 1871.
Maggie's Sacrifice
' Here, pet, this'll buy you as tine a
rig as the best o"em'll hey ; an'
nary gal thar'll show a prettier face over
her new gown—hey, wife ?"
The old farmer rang down a broad
piece of gold on the kitchen table as he
spoke, and turned toward his wife with
a fond, proud smile. She looked up
from her Christmas cookies with an an
swering light In her eyes, but said, half.
chidingly.
" Come, father, don't make her vain."
Maggie sprang from her perch on the
arm of the old fashioned settee, and
clasping holfather round the neck, half
smothered him with kisses; then catch
ing up the coin, she danced up
and do an the kitchen till her bright
curls were In a shimmer of delight.—
The old man watched her with fond
delight, but •the prudent mother said,
sharply,
" Why, Maggie, I'm surprised at you
to be so foolish."
Maggie sat down obediently, the gold
clasped tight In her hand, her blue eyes
dancing with happy expectation. In
moment she sprang up again.
"Mother!" she exclaimed, "may' I
go and get it ?"
" Get what, child ?"
"Oh, you know, mother; the blue
silk—the one we looked at. and the
white gloves?"
Of course the mother knew, and was
as much pleased as her daughter, but
she answered, gravely enough,
"Well, I s'pose so, Maggie; an' call
by l'ilis Tabby's, an' tell her to come
round to-morrow and lit the dress for
you ; but, child, don't be so proud o'
your clothes; it's a sin."
"Oh, mother! I'm not proud, I'm
only glad," laughed Maggie, winding
her white comforter round her head,
and dancing oil' In the direction of the
dry-goods establishment, in whose win
dow the long-coveted blue silk was dis
played.
There was to be a great ball on Christ
mas night, given to the young people of
the village, by 'Squire Stebbins. Mag
gie was invited, for she was a great fa
vorite with the 'squire; but her old
merino dress was sadly faded, and all
the girls were getting new and hand
some dresses.
"If! could only get the silk, mother,"
she had said, us the obliging clerk dis
played it in gleaming folds; "it is so
lovely. Oh ! I wish I could."
13ut the prudent mother shook her
head and said, " too costly, too costly.
.You must haven plain merino, Maggie."
Maggie pouted ; but her darling old
father said nothing till after he had sold
his last lot of oats, and then the broad
gold piece rung down on the kitchen
table.
With a light heart, Maggie danced
over the snow on her way to the dry
goods establishment. "No one has got
it before me, I hope " she mused to her
self; there will not be such another
dress at the party. Dear, dear papa;
Miss Tabby must put white lace on the
cuilk and round the neck, and I'll wear
the gold chain that Henry gave me.—
Oh ! won't Henry be surprised when he
sees me—won't he.." and Riving way
to her feelings, the silly little thing in
dulged in a variety of un-lady-like ca
prices, to the secret amusement of a
sober young loan who was making his
way along the opposite side of the street.
But there was the store, and there, in
the window was the identical silk,
gleaming with all the splendor of heav
'en's own blue ; and suspended above It,
a dainty pair of white gloves, trimmed
with lace cult's and knots of blue rib
bon. Maggie's heart began to palpi
tate so Joyously, she could hardly get
her breath.
" What Is the price of that silk, and
the trimmed gloves," She Itttl:ed ,
stepping Into the store.
"'Twenty-live dollars, Mks; and
cheap as dirt," replied the clerk.
Twenty-tive dollars ! Ju,t the amount
of her money.
'• 1 think I will take---" she be
gan, but ;an eager hand plucked her
sleeve, and turning, she met a wan
face looking plewlingly Mit from the re
mains of the tattered hood.
" Please, Miss, I never begged before;
but help my poor mother; they're turn
in' her out in the street; and poor fath
er's dyin', doctor says."
The slender, plaintive voice went to
her heart like u knife.
"What eun I do? how can I help
you ?" she asked.
"Oh, Miss! it's twenty-live dollar,, we
owe—rent, you know—und poor mother
can't puy.,lt. Please help her!"
Maggie closed her lingers over the gold
In her hand, and looked towards the
blue silk wit In a swellillg, heart. Seeing
her hesitation, the clerk came round and
took the child by the shoulder.
"Go out," he said, roughly, " and
don't let the catch you in here again.
Don't mind her, Miss," lie added, clos
ing the door; " it Is all lies they tell.
Shall I wrap the silk up? "
Poor Maggie! for an instant self was
predominant. She must have the blue
silk ; she most go to the Christmas ball
and dance with Henry; hut in a little
while something nobler got the suprem
acy—something that made her young
eyes outshine the silk that the wily clerk
so temptingly displayed.
" No," she replied resolutely, " not
now. I must look after the poor child
first."
Half an hour later, a poor woman
wept tears of gratitude and joy over her
dying husband, in the cheerless garret
she called her home, and Maggie welt
back to the old farm house with a step
slow and sober enough.
'•\Nell, pet," said her old father, fond
ly, "1 s'pose you've got the blue silk at
last ?”
"No, papa, no!" faltered Maggie,with
a gush of tears that she tried in vain to
repress, "I didn't get it. I—l gave the
money away to a poor little girt."
It was Christmas day. The snow lay
white and crisp on the chain of hills
that shut in the old New England farm
house ; and the sun just dropping out of
sight, tinged their summits with a soft
glow, :111(1 gave the strip of wintry sky
beyond a rosy warmth. so suggestive of
luWtner twilight, that tote lorgot the
keen winds and biting frost, out fan
cied the notes of the ring-dove in the
wood, and the breath of violets ou the
But Maggie was not indulging in any
such reveries as she stood on the front
stoop, her pretty curls pushed back,and
her blue eyes brim-full of tears, as
sleighs Hew hy, with their merry peals
of bells bearing a freight of happy girls
to the gay party.
" 011: I did want to go so bad," she
murmured, "but I can't wear my faded
merino. All the girls will be there,
dressed so nice and so happy. Oh,
dear," and a little sob choked her, and
the tears brimmed over and stained her
pretty cheeks, just as another sleigh
dashed up, and Henry jumped out and
ran up the stoop.
" Why, Maggie," he called out, "not
dressed yet? I thought you'd be all
ready. Come, hurry, it is gating late."
" I—l'm not going," she faltered.
The young man turned round in sur
prise.
"Not going, Maggie? Why, you said
you were on Sunday."
"I know ; but I've changed my mind,
I can't go."
"fPshilw ! this is nonsense. Go and
get ready, Maggie ; it's no use to fool."
His tone irritated her, and she re
plied, sharply,
"I'm not fooling, Henry. I'm not
going, and you needn't wait."
" All right—l won't. Some one else
will go, I guess," and he sprang into his
sleigh and drove off.
Poor Maggie! This was the cruelest
blow of all. Bhe could not brave it any
longer, so she nu' into the old kitchen,
,and laid her head down on her father's
old leather-cushioned chair fur a good,
childish cry.
The old clock ticked on the mantle,
and her father and mother dozed over
the keeping-room fire. Christmas night
was going by. Maggie cried till her
heart ached, thinking of the gay party,
and some one else dancing with Henry ;
then she stroked the cat, and listened to
the cricket chirping under the hearth,
and finally fell asleep.
A soft touch on her brow awakened
her just as she was dreaming of the ball
and the blue silk, and starting up she
saw a whiskered face bending over her.
" Oh, Henry !" sheexclaimed, scramb
ling to her feet, " How you frightened
me. What's the matter? What have
"Nothing, Maggie; only I've come
to spend my Christmas night with you,
if you will let me."
But I thought you went to the
ball —"
"So I did ; and heard the story of the
blue silk dress ; and found there was no
one I cared for at 'Squire Stebbins', or
anywhere else in the world, except in
this old kitchen, Maggie."
Maggie blushed, and shook down her
yellow ringlets over her tear-stained
cheeks. What a change had come over
her old kitchen, so dismal a little while
before. How bright and cheerful every
thing looked. What a happy Christmas
night it turned out to be, after all !
The next morning, the dr-goods
clerk brought up a package for Maggie,
containing the blue silk and dainty
gloves. She guessed well enough whose
hand had sent them. Miss Tabby was
called upon, and the dress got up mag
nificently; but when Maggie wore It,
It was to no Christmas ball, but to her
own wedding..
Table or Former Great Fires
Norfolk, Vu. ' destroyed by fire by the
cannon-bulls of the British. Property
to the amount of $1,500,000 destroyed.
January 1, 1776.
City of New York, soon after passing .
into possession of the British ; 500 build-'
lugs consumed. September 20-$4, 1776.
Theatre at Richmond, Va. The Ciov
ernor of the State and a large number of
the leading inhabitants perished. Dec.
26, Ist].
City of New York; 330 buildings de
stroyed ; Ims, $20,000,000. December 16,
1835.
Washington City ; General Post. Office
and Pat ent-Otlice, with over ten thous
and valuable models, drawings, etc.,
destroyed. December 15, 1836.
Philadelphia; fifty-two buildings de
stroyed. Loss, $ , '500,000. October 4, 1839.
Quebec, Canada. 1,500 buildings and
many lives destroyed. May 28, 1845,
Quebec, Canada. 1,30 U buildings de
stroyed. June 28, 1343.
City of New York. 500 buildings de
stroyed. Loss, $6,000,000. June 20, 1845.
St. Joint's, N. F., nearly destroyed;
6,000 people made homeless. June 12,
1840.
Quebec, Canada; Theatre Royal ; 47
persons burned to death. J one 14,1646.
Nantucket. 300 buildings and other
property destroyed ; value, :i'Boo,ooo.
July 13,
1846.
At Albany; 600 buildings, steamboats,
piers, etc., destroyed ; loss, 03,000,000.
August 17, 1848.
Brooklyn; 300 buildings destroyed.
September 9, 1848.
At St. Louis ; 15 blocks of houses and
23 steamboats; lose estimated at $3,000,-
000. May 17, 1819.
Frederickton, N. B. ; about 300 build
ings destroyed. November 11, 1550.
Nevada, Cal ; 200 buildings destroyed;
loss, 21,300,000. March 10, 1851.
At Stockton, Cal. ; loss, $1,500,000.
May 14, 1851.
Concord, N. H. ; greater part of the
business portion of the town destroyed.
August 04, 1051.
Congressional Library, at Washing
ton ; 35,000 volumes, with works of art,
destroyed. December 2.1, 1851.
At Montreal, Canada, 1,200 houses de
stroyed ; loss, $3,00u,000. July 8,1852.
Harper Brothers' establishment, in
this city ; loss, over $1,000,000. Decem
ber 10, 1833.
Metropolitan Hall and Lafarge house,
in this city. January 7, 185-1.
At Jersey City, thirty factories and
houses destroyed. July 30, 1854. . .
More than WO houses and factories in
Troy, New York ; on the same day a
large part of Milwaukee, Wis., destroy
ed. August C:•i,
At Syracuse, New York, about 100
buildings destroyed ; Joss, ,1,000,000.
November ti, 180:1.
:New York Crystal l'alace destroyed.
October 5, 16.55.
City of Charleston, S. C., almost de
stroyed, February 17, 156.1
At (luebee, Canada, 2.,500 houses de
stroyed,
oct, 11.
lily Scenes In Gotham.
• A correspondent of a 'Western paper,
writing front New York, says: The
street cars are always crowded. Nearly
all start front one and the same point—
the City Hall—front which the different
lines radiate in all directions, (In Third
avenue, where a car goes every minute,
the truffle Is enormous; half the time the
cars are overcrowded. A car will carry
sixty, and severity, and eighty people,
and still the conductor will not refuse to
stop, and one more will clamber up the
platform. About thirty will sit, fifteen
on each side, twenty or thirty will stand
in the car, and some twenty on each one
of the platforms ; and so a car will hold
a hundred people. The cars go very
last, the conductor taking scarce time
to let the passengers out. In a car
which Is crowded, you will Ilnd those
that sit to be men, and those that stand
to be women, here there is no time
for gallantry. 'nu writer has been In
cars in which a dozen or fifteen ladles
stood, while probably the same number
of men had seats. But no one offered
his seat to a lady. It does not matter
whether the lady 1,3 old and decrepit,
or hue a babe on her arm ;
your gallant
New Yorker will calmly keep his sera,
and let her stand. (If course the wo
men, seeing the men rude, have become
polite, and are particular in thanking
them whevever they enjoy the good
fortune to be offered a seat. It is just
as convenient, in fact more so, to ogle a
woman in the car while you sit and she
stands; and whenever a New Yorker
gets into a car, it is such a hard matter
to get a seat that he is determined to
keep it, the ladies and gallantry not
withstanding. The ladies wear now
open sleeves, and it is au advantage to
see their fair arms while they aregrasp
ing the strap.
The New York rowdy is in his glory.
in the car. He is often in company of
a young woman whom he holds tender
ly to his heart, while the other people
look on and giggle. The sovereignty of
love is here manifest ; it is open and
unconcealed. If the gentleman with
out a collar—and the New York row
dies are all on the very worst terms
with paper collars and bows--step
slightly oin the foot of the lady sitting
beside him, it is surely not his fault ; he
has been brought up to it. If he tit
ters suave jocular remark about her ap
pearance to the other collar-4s gentle-
Inan—some innocent, lepid joke, you
know—why, be means no harm. he is
a rowdy, you know. If he is drunk and
snores, no one will disturb his gentle
doze; the conductor wilt take particu
lar pains not to disturb him,
Look to Your Whitewashing
Good whitewashing, well applied to
fences, rough siding, and the walls and
ceilings of buildings, has a highly sani
tary influence, as well as being in the
highest degree preservativein itseffects.
To be durable, whitewash should
be prepared hi the following manner :
Take the very best stone lime, and slake
it in a close tub, covered with a cloth to
preserve the steam. Salt, as much as can
be dissolved iu the water used forslakiug
and reducing the lime, should be applied,
and the whole mass carefully strain
ed and thickened with a small quantity
of sand, the purer and finer the better.
A few pounds of wheat dour mixed as a
paste may be added and will give greater
durability, to the mass, especially when
applied to the exterior surface of build
ings. With pure lime, properly slacked
and mixed with twice its weight of
fine sand and sifted wood ashes, in
equal proportions, almost any color
way be made by the addition of pig
ments. Granite, slate, freestone and
other shades may be imitated, and
without any detriment to the durability
of the wash. This covering is very often
applied, and with good effect, to the un
derpinning, stone fences, roofs and the
walls of barns and out-buildings. Pr 01...
ably the pure whitewash is more healthy
than the colored, as its alkalescent prop
erties are superior, and when in cellars,
kitchens and sleeping-apartments, pro
duces salutary results.
No person who regards the health of
his family should neglect to apply a
coatof it every Spring. Country places,
especially farm out-houses, fences, etc.,
are greatly improved in appearance by
an annual coat of good whitewash, and
will add to their permanency much
more than many would imagine. It is
cheap and easily applied, so that neither
expense nor labor can be pleaded against
it.—Germantown Telegraph.
A. Story with a Moral.
A dealer in pork has a precocious son
who was expert In cards, and, in play
ing with his young companions, was sel
dom on the losing side. He began at
first to bet on the game, and ere long
would play regular for money with any
of his age disposed to accept the risk.
He came home one day, bringing several
dollars which he had acquired in his
small way of gaming, and exhibited his
gains to his father with quite an air of
triumph. The thoughtful parent shook
his head and told his son that the money
was not honestly acquired. But I did
sittdityitet
not:cheat," said the boy. "I hope not,"
replied the father; "but did you give the
loser any equivalent whatever for it'?"
The boy hung his head, and the parent
added, "money is honestly acquired
where there is an exchange of products
or services, and the receiver gives an
equivalent for it ; to take another mall's
property and give him no equivalent for
it; is to rob or cheat him."
A few months after the father value
home from the produce exchange with
an elated aspect, and announced that he
had settled his speculative contracts in
pork by the receipt of nearly fifty thous
and dollars. His son eyed him steadily
a moment and then said : " What did
you give the'other man, father, as all
equivalent for the:money ?"—New York
Journal of Ciornnteroc.
About Postage Stamps
Although postage stamps are among
the most familiar objects of daily use, it
is probable that very few persons have
troubled themselves to consider when
and where they originated. In a
pamphlet by M. Piron, S'ous-Direeteur
des Pastes, published In Paris, in 1838,
and entitled, " Du Service des Pastes,
et de la Taxation des Lettres au May
d'un Timbre," we find that the idea of
post-paid or stamped paper originated
early in the reign of Louis XIV., with
M. Be Velayer, who, in 1653, establish
ed a private penny-post, placing boxes
at the corners of streets fur the recep•
don of letters wrapped up in envelopes,
which were franked by bands or slips
of paper tied around them, with the in
scription, "Post-paid the day vl
—, 1653, or '54." These slips were
sold fur a sort tape, and could be pro
cured at the palace, at the turn-tables of
convents, and from the porters of col
leges. When Louis XIV. used to quit
his habitual residence, the personages
of his suite were accustomed to procure
these labels intended to be placed
around letters destined for Paris. ISI.
De Velayer had also caused to be print
ed certain forms of billets, or notes, ap
plicable to the ordinary business among
the inhabitants of great towns, with
blanks which were to be filled up by the
pen with such special matter as might
complete the writer's object. One of
these billets filled up by Pelisson, anti
sent to Mademoiselle Scudery, is still
preserved in Paris, and is one of the
oldest of penny-post letters extant, and
a curious example of a pre-paying en
velope. These primitive slips and forms
were irregularly used, and soon fell In to
disuse. In 1758, however, under Louis
XV., one M. De Chamouset, a wealthy
Parisian, established a modest post for
the metropolis, charging two sole for
single letters under an ounce, which
were prepared by stamps similar to
those now in use. Government, per
ceiving the gains thus derived from the
new enterprise, took it from him, com
pensating him by an annual pension of
twenty thousand francs; but so meagre
were the arrangements of the Govern
ment that the stamps were seldom used
and soon were entirely forgotten.
The next country to issue postal
stamps was Spain, their issue having
been authorized by a royal decree of the
7th December, 1716, which stipulated
that the secretaries to the crown, etc.,
etc., will have the privilege of apposing
on the letters addressed to the other au
thorities a seal, impressed in ink, bear
ing the royal arms of Castile and Leon,
which will pass them free. By the gen
eral regulations of the post (Bth June,
1794) notice was given that the stamps
mentioned In the decree of 1716 were to
be used only for letters concerning pub
lic business. These official stamps re
mained in use until the beginning of the
present century, when. their Issue was
entirely abandoned.
To Mr. Rowland I[lll are we Indebt
ed for that postal reform which was in
troduced by him Into the British Parlia
ment In 1837, which, among other re
forms, proposed that letters should be
prepaid by means of stamped covers or
envelopes. 1 - lie proposition met with
much opposition. Fortunately thou
sands ot petitions poured in for the
furtherance of this bold project, and
Parliament moved by such a general
manifestation caused a commission to
examine the plan. After many stormy
debates it was adopted, and put in oper
ation on the 6th of May, 1846. To Mr.
11111 then, do we owe the adoption of
theidea, and its practical development
As soon as the postal scheme was ma
tured in England, and the emission of
postal stamps decided on the au
thorities Issued a prospectus offer
ing a reward of 1500 l'or the best
design and plan- for a stamp.
The conditions, which were widely
circulated, stated that the chief desider
ata were simplicity and facility in work
ing, combined with such precautions as
should prove effectual against forgery.
Thousands of designs—many of the
most elaborate workmansh I p—were sen t
in; but none were so simple as that fur
nished by Heath, of London, which
was subsequently chosen. It is, how
ever, In use at the present day, its color
only having been changed from black
to red. About the same time a prize
was offered for the best design for an
envelope, which was gained by Mul
ready, R. A., who produced that pecu
liar combination of allegories represent
ing England attracting the commerce
of the world. It was engraved on brass
by John Thompson (the pupil of Bran
ston,) who devoted many entire weeks
iu cutting it in relief . . By the side
of the starup envelope and adhesives'
of the present day it has an almost '
medieval appearance. England, there- I
fore, has the honor of creating the I
first postage stamps (those previously
mentioned having little in common with 1
those now in use) where they were crea
ted,
to be successively adopted by all !
civilized countries. Upon this simple
foundation has been built a postal re- !
form which vies with any other reform
in this reforming age. After a currency
of a few months the "Mulready" en-
velopes fell into disuse, and were super- !
seded by tire small adhesive stamps fur
nished by Heath, of London. In July,
1840, a two-peony stamp was issued, and
subsequently a complete series, ranging
in value from one kalf-penny to five
shillings. In the latter part of 1870 post
cards were introduced into England, un
usual taste having been shown in their
arrangement. The cards are about four
and a quarter inches in length, by three
and a half breadth. The design consists
of the queen's head in a circle, with or
naments, etc., and a broad label in the
lower margin, inscribed "Half-penny,"
the whole forming a rectangle. The
main inscription, which occupies the
upper portion of the card"to the left of
the stamp, is thus disposed : "Post-card.
The address only to be written on this
side. To --." The cards are print
ed Ma beautiful light lilac. The stamps
of England, both postal and fiscal, are
printed at Somerset House, London.
England, having taken the first step
in this path of postal reform, was soon
followed by some of the Swiss can
tons in 1843-44, Brazil in 1843, Russia
in 1845, United States in 1847, France in
1848, Schleswig-Holstein in 1848, Tusca
ny iu 1849, Belgium in 1849, Spain In
1850, and the other principal nations and
their colonies (with but few exceptions)
at intermediate dates, thus generalizing
their use throughout the world.
The postal stamps of the tin ited States
next claim our attention, their issue
having been authorized by act of Con-!
gress of 3d March, 1847. Two values
only were introduced, viz., five cents !
and ten cents, bearing respectively the !
portraits of Franklin and Washington.
They were issued July 1 of that year.—
They remained current until July 1,
1851, when, in consequence of an altera
tion in the rates, they were withdrawn,
and replaced by three new values, viz.,
one cent, three cents, and twelve 'cents.
In May, 1855, a ten-cent stamp was is
sued, and subsequently, at intermediate
dates, a complete series, ranging in
value from five to ninety cents. They
remained current until the breaking
out of the great rebellion in 1861,
when, it being considered desirable to
change the issue of stamps, a new set of
stamps was prepared and issued August
14 of: that year, with two new values
tke designs being somewhat similar to
the preceding issue. The entire set
still pass current. In March, 1869, the
late current series, corresponding in
value to the preceding issue, was, by
direction of the government also pre
pared by the National Bank-Note Com
pany; but the public ;feeling being
wholly against them, on account of
their small size, the government in 1870
authorized the company to prepare a
new set, and In the Spring of 1870
(April) they produced an elaborate
series. The portraits upon them are
mostly engraved from standard marbles
and are wonderfully truthful in every
detail. They are of .the following de
nominations and description:
1 et. Franklin, 2 cts. Jackson, 3 cts.
Washington, 6 cts. Lincoln, 10 cts. Jef
farson, 12 els. Clay, 15 cts. Webster, 24
eta. Scott, 30 eta. Hamilton, 90 as. Per
ry.
To which has lately been added, for
German postal service, a seven-cent
stamp, bearing a portrait of the late Sec
retary of Mr, Stanton, photographed
from life—color, red. Of these stamps,
the National Bank-Note Company has
furnished the government the past year
with nearly five hundred millions.—
The Post-Office Department has receiv
ed the congratulations of several for
eign governments upon the beauty and
workmanship of this issue of stamps.
They are undoubtedly the finest set of
stamps in the world, and for delicacy of
engraving, symmetry of design, and
general contour remain peerless. Stamp
ed postal envelopes were introduced in
the United States hi 1833, having been
authorized by act of Congress of 31st
August, 1952, There have been several
issues, all of which wee engraved by
Messrs. Nesbitt Co.&of New York
city. Quite recently the contract for
the manufactory of United States snunp
ed envelopes was awarded to G. A.
Reny, of New York city, who manufac
tures those now In use.—Harper's Mag
a:inc.
The Improved American
'I hose Americans who have traveled
over Europe during the past three or
four years, expecting to be shocked by
the vulgar display of their countrymen
and countrywomen, and shamed by
their gaucheries, have been pleasantly
surprised to find their expectations un
realized. The American In Europe Is
now a quiet person, who minds his own
business, takes quickly to the best hab
its of the country in which he finds
himself, pays his bills, and commands
universal respect. The vulgar displays
on the Continent are now made by men
who were born there, and who, having
made money in America, have returned
to their early homes to show themselves
and their, wealth. These people do more
to bring America into disrepute in tier
many than all the native Americans
have ever done; and many of them, we 1 1
regret to say, have been sent there by
the American government as consuls
and other governmental agents, whose
end in securing such appointments was
simply that of commanding respect and
position in communities in which
neither they nor their friends had ever
had the slightest consideration. In rail
way carriages and diligences and steam
ers the American is always a courage
ous and well-behaved person, who tears
with good-nature his full share of lu
conveniences, Is heartily polite to
ladies of all nationalities, is kind to
children, and helpful to all. He and
his wife and daughters are invariably
more tasteful and appropriately dressed
than their English fellow-travelers, and
at the table (I' hole their manners are ir
reproachable, while very little that Is
pleasant can be said of the "table man
ners" of the subjects of the Hauser
William. In brief, the traveling Amer
ican is greatly improved, and it is time
that he were relieved of the lampanns„
of ill-natured correspondentsand penny
a-liners' and placed where he belongs—
among the best bred of all those who
are afloat upon the tide of travel.
Again, those who have visited the va
rious American watering-places during
the past season have not failed to re
mark that a great change has occurred
among the summer pleasure-seekers.—
At Newport and Saratoga, the efforts at
vulgar display, which were frequent
during the last years of the war and the
first of peace, have been entirely want
ing. A "stunning toilet" was never
trailed through the halls and parlor of
the Ocean House but once, by the same
person, during the pant season. The
eminent respectability and quietness
of the surroundings were such a re
buke that the wearer disappeared the
next morning, or subsided into time
universal tone. The vulgar love of
the dance and the display which it
Involves, in all the popular places of
resort, have almost entirely disappear
ed. With the most inspiring bands of
music there has been no dancing during
the season, except at the small family
hotels In out of the way places. Bath
ing, driving, walking, rowing, sailing,
bowling, and croquet and plc-nie have
given a healthful tone to the sea-side
and inland places of recreation, and
dress and dancing have been at a dis
count. People spealriplif this change as
if it were a fashion of the year, but in
truth ft Is the evidence of an improve
ment in the national character and life.
We are less children and more men and
women than we were—finer and higher
In our thoughts and tastes.
There are signs of improvements in
the American, and these relate nudely
to the female side of the nation. The
American woman has long l,ceu re
garded by Europeans as the most beau
tiful woman In the world. This she Is
and has been for twenty-five years,
without a doubt; and as the circum
stances of her life become easier,
her labor less severe and her
education better, she will be
more beautiful still. America never
possessed a more beautiful generation
of women than she possesses to-day,
and there is no doubt that the style of
beauty is changing to a nobler type.
The characteristic American woman of
the present generation is larger than
the characteristic American woman of
the previous generation. It comes of
better food, better clothing, better
sleep, more fresh air, and less of bard
work to mothers during those periods
when their vitality is all demanded for
their motherly functions. We venture
to say that the remark has been made
by observers thousands of times during
the past summer, at the various places
of resort, that they had never seen
so many large women together before.
Indisputably they never had.
The same fact of physical improve
ment is not so apparent among the men,
and the cause is' not too far off to be
found. It mmell - hot be alluded to, how
ever, until something has been said
about the reason of the superior beauty
of American women over those of other
Christian nationalities. The typical
American woman is not, and never has,
been a beer-drinking or a wine-drinking
woman ; and to this fact mainly we at
tribute her wealth of personal loveliness.
In America it has always been consid
ered vulgar for a woman to be fond of
stimulating liquors in any form, and
horribly disgraceful for her to drink
them habitually. Asa rule, all over the
country the American woman drinks
nothing stronger than the decoctions of
the tea-table, and those she is learning
to shun. She is being raised tomaturi
ty without a stimulant, and as this is
the singular, distinguishing fact in her
history, when we compare her with the
woman of other nations, it Is no more
than fair to claim that it has much to
do with her pre-emineuce of physical
beauty.
This will appear still more forcibly to
be the case when we find that physical
improvement in the American man is
not so evident as it appears to be in his
wife and sister. The American man is
better housed, better clothed, and better
fed than formerly, but his habits are not
better. Our students are done with bran
bread and scant sleep, and are winning
muscle and health in the gymnasium ;
but they smoke too much. The young
men in business everywhere under
stand the laws of health and devel
opment better than the generation
that preceded them, but they drink too
much. This whole business of drinking
is:dwarfing the American man. It stupi
lies the brain and swells the bulk of the
Englishman and the Oerman,but it frets
and rasps and whittles down the already
over-stimulated American. The facts
recently published concerning the enor
mous consumption of liquor in 'Amer
ica are enough to account for the
disparity between the degrees of
physical improvement that have
been achieved respectively by the two
sexes. The young American who drinks
habitually, or who, by drinking occa
sionally, puts himself in danger of
drinking habitually, sins against his
own body beyond the power of nature
to forgive. He stunts his own growth
to manly stature, and spoils himself for
becoming the father of manly men and
womanly women. The Improved Amer
ican will not drink, and he will not be
improved until he stops drinking.
Serf bner' for October.
The Deacon's Retort
The Deacon was not very much be
hind, if the following story be true. In
a small town on the Schuylkill river,
there is a church in which the singing
had run down. It had been led many
years by one of the deacons, whose voice
and musical powers had been gradually
failing. One evening the clergyman
gave out the hymn, which was in an
odd measure, rather harder than usual,
NUMBER 42
and the deacon led off. Upon its con
clusion the minister rose and said:
"Brother 13— will please repeat the
hymn, as I cannot pray after such sing
ing."
The deacon very composedly pitched
into another tune, and the clergyman
proceeded with his prayer. Having
finished, he took up the book togive the
second hymn, when he was interrupted
by the deacon gravely getting up and
saying In a voice audible to the whole
congregation
'• Will Mr.
er? IL would he impossible for me to
sing after such a prayer t 44 that !"Mat,
Sunday Reading.
" A word fitly spoken, how good Is
tt."—Solomon.
A sanctified heart Is much better than
a silver toutrue.
A hundred years of wrong do not
wake 111.1 hour of right.
Ttimptations are enemies outside the
castle seeking entrance.
He who can suppress a moms!) t's
anger, may prevent days of sorrow.
A knowledge of our weakness creates
In us charity for others.
Greatness lies not In being strong, but
in the right using of strength.
Love cannot any more burn without
goodness than the flame without fuel.
Many kings make their subjects beg
gars,bu tchrist makes hls subjects kings.
The very help which God gives men,
is by teaching them how to help them
selves.
A church can hardly be rich In grace,
which hammy uut iu it man_t• of the Lord's
mon
There are promises in Scripture to
help our weakness, but none Ito over
come our wilfulness.
Trust him little who praises all ; him
less who censures all; and. him least
who is indifferent about all.
You may glean knowledge by reading
but you must separate the chaff from
the wheat by thinking.
Great powers and natural gifts do not
bring privileges to their possessors so
much as they bring duties.
Gifts from the hand are silver and
gold, but the heart gives that which
neither silver nor gold can buy.
Satan's promises are like the meat that
fowlers set before birds, which is not to
feed them but to take them.
There is no such thing as preaching
patience into people, unless the sermon
is so long that they have to practice it
while they hear.
A mind full of piety and knowledge
is always rich ; it is a bank that never
fails; It yields a perpetual dividend of
happiness.
The chief glory of God comes after
the rain. No shower, no rainbow. No
trouble, no brightness of Christian con
solation.
When flowers are full of heaven de
scending dews, they always hang their
heads ; but men hold theirs the higher
the more they receive, getting proud as
they get full.
How much grace do the wealthy re
quire that they may be kept from the
temptations which beset their position,
and may be delivered from the canker
ing influence of riches.
He who has struck hie colors to the
power of an evil habit, has surrendered
himeelfto the powerof an enemy, bound
by no articles of faith, and from whom
he can expect only the vilest treatment.
If from an humble condition thou
bast become powerful, and the first in
the city for opulence, cannot riches
make thee proud, for the first author of
these good things of God?
Teaching men morals only le as though
I had a clock that wouldn't go, and I
turned round one of the cog-wheels.—
But faith takes the key and winds up
the mainspring, and the whole thing
goes on rapidly.
Were we to believe nothing but what
we could perfectly comprehend, not
only the stock of knowledge in all the
branches of learning would be shrunk
up to nothing, but even the affairs of
common life could not be carried on.
It is sometimes or God's mercy that
men, In the eager pursuits of wordly
aggrandizement, are baffled; for they
are like a train going down an inclined
plane; putting on the brake is not pleas
ant, bucit keeps the car on the track.
Will you not come to Jesus that you
may receive sight? To-day, even to
day, the Son of Uod is passing by. It
Is the good physician, Jesus of Nazareth.
Ile sulth unto you, "What won hist
thou that I should do unto the?"
Dent 11 of an Oclogemarlmo
Abraham Sheosloy, who died in Susque
hanna township on Sunday of last weak,
was aged nearly elgidy-four years and
was the father of fifteen children, ninety
grand-child: en and forty-four great grand
children. Of his family the widow and
ten children are still living. The last days
of Mr. Sheesley were passed at the resi
dence of his son. The deceased was wide
ly known In this county, and hundreds of
his relatives and Monis attended hie fu
neral at Itaysor's church. Mrs. Abraham
Sheecley, who had lived with her husband
for sixty-four years, is In reasonably good
health.—Harri.rbarg Patriot.
RAILROAD LANDS
M=I;SIEIUM
On the line of the
I.'NI()N PACIFIC RAILROAD
A Land Grant of
OUO,UOU I[ES
(if time
lies( Farming and .3finerra Land, in A in, .rtea
3 ltfit/, , XX) Acres of choice Fartnirag and lirar.lll,4
Lands on the Ilue of Lao roud, In the State of
Nebraska, In the Great Platte Valley, now for
sale, for each or long credit,
These lands are In a mild and healthy cli
mate, and for graln•growlng and stock•ralslng,
unsurpassed by any In the Linitedritaten.
Prices nature from 62 to 610 Per Acre
2,5),0(J Acres of Government Lend, between
Omaha and North Platte, open (or entry ex
Homesteads only.
SOLDIERS OF TIIE LATE WAR
I=l
FREE HOMESTEAD OF 160 ACRES,
Within Railroad limils,'equal to a
DIRECT BOUNTY 01 8400.
Send for the new edition of descriptive pam
phlet, with new maps, mailed free everywhere.
Address 0. F. DAVIS,
- - -
Land Commlaaloner U. Y.R. R. Co.,
3mdoawd.drnw. Omaha, Nob.
VOA ell- MA KERS
pltillar DOER:SOM.
(Flueeessor to Steigerwalt dr. Doersom,i
AANUFACITURER OF CARRIAGES, BUG
GIES, MARKET WAGONS, An.,
Carr}ages, Ac. always on hand and made to
order. All work warranted. Repairing done
at short notice.
REMEMBER THE OLD STAND,
East King street, half square from the Court
mvlo House. lvdew
E DGEBLEY de CO.,
CARRIAGE MANUFACTURERS
MARKET STREET
MARKET HOUSES, LANCASTER, PAA
We keep ou hand and make up to order the
cheapest, latest and neatest styles—such as
PILETGNS, BUGGIES, MARKET WAGONS
and CARRIAGES of every description.
The secret •f our success is that we are all
Practical. echanics of different Manches of the
business. We ask a trial and guarantee satis
faction. All work warranted. Repairing
promptly attended to. Jyl2...rinwZi
E. EDGERLEY, T. SHAUD. J. H. NORBECK
WILTBERGER'N FLAVORING EX
TRACTS are warranted equal to any made
They are prepared from thefruits, and will be
found much better than many of the Extracta
that are sold. air- Asir your Grocer or Drug
gist for Wiltberver's .Ertroct..
BARLOW'S INDIO!) BLUE
In. wl thou t doubt, the best article In the market,
for bittern(' clothes. It will color more water than
/our times the name weight of Indigo, and much
more than anv other wash blue In the market.—
The °SLY GENUINE Is that put up at
ALFRED WILTBERGER'S DRUG STORE,
.No. Ind South Second St., Philadelphia, Pa.
The Labels have both WILTBEROMR'S and
BARLOW'S name on them, all others are counter•
Jest. For Sale by most Drupprtan and Grocers.
WILTBERGEIVB INDELIBLE INK
MU be found on trial to be a superior article. Al
ways on hand for sale at reasonable prices.—
Pure Ground SPICES, Genuine MEDICINES,
Chamois Skins, Sponges, Tapioca, Pearl, Sago,
and all articles in the drug line, at
ALFRED WiLTBERGER'S DRUG STORE
Ao, 2:33 North Second .Sl., Philadelphia, Pa,
Julyl2-lyw23
D RS. JORDAN & DAVIVION,
Proprietors of the
Val tery of Anatomy & Museum of science.
807 CHESTNUT ST., PHILADELPHIA,
Have just published a new editios.of their lec
tures, containing r.ost valuable, nformattan
on the causes, consequences andi leatment of
diseases of the reprounctive system, with re
marks on marriage and the various causes of
the Loss of Manhood, with fall Instructions
for its complete restoration; also a chapter on
Venereal Infection, and the Means of Cure,be.
lug the most comprehensive work on the sub
ject ever yet publlshed—comprising SS pages.
Mailed free to any address for Twenty-live
cents. Address Drs. JORDAN & DAVIESON,
Consulting Odic°, 1025 Filbert street, Philadel
phia, s3O-Iyd&W
BROADWAY STORE:
NEW GOODS
RECEIVED DAILY.
FALL AND WINTER STOCK
DRESS GOODS,
SMANV LS, BLANKETS
OIL CLOTHS, RUGS,' di.c
Best $1 Kid Gloves in Town
I:lTrioimil=
"OUR PA I? A G O.V COR.SEe. •°
OPPOSITE PREY'S EXCIIANfiI.
J. T. BROWN & CO.,
21 EAsT Kist; s'utEET,
LANCANTEU,
poettLAn PHU:FA FOR DRY UOOlDi
RI CKEY'S
727 CH ESTS UTLSTREET.
S/I, K V, SH A IVL ti
DRESS GOODS,
IN UREAT VARIETY,
Al' WHOLMSALE AND RETAII..::
Stock unrivalled for extent, variety, and
oneral athllltioll 10 the wants of buyers, anti
[ally replenished with the cheapest and
hoiceat offerings of this and other markets.
Visitors will receive courteous attention,
vhether they purchase or not.
PHILADELPHIA, PA
CLOTHING
WANAMAKEB & BROW s
CHEAP AND GOOD
CIA)TH.TNCI,
'OAK 11 A L
Sixth and Market Streets,
PHILADELPHIA.:
EXCELLENT QUALITY
ENTLEMEN & THEIII SONS
A vast variety of choice Ready-made
FALL CLOTHING
n the Custom Department will be found
a oholoe selection of Imported and
Domestic) goods to be made to order.
PROMPT ATTENTION TO BOERS BY MAIL.
PRICES ExcirEDzxer,r Lon
H i \ I
0 PHILADELPHIA .4
1 1 :4$ 603& 605 , i v
49R
MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS.
PI AN 0 A!
ORGANS!
MELODEONS
STEINHAUSER & BRO'S
NO. 9 EAST ORANGE STREET,
Persons desirous otpurchasing will grid It to
their advantage to see oar stock and hear
prima before Purchasing. my22etfd
JAMES BELLAIL,
279 dr. 781 SOUTH FIFTLI:STREET,
PHILADELPHIA
PRINCE & CO.'S
WORLD-RENOWNED I
ORGANS AND MELODONB,
BO Different Styles from MO Upwarda to:$900.
Over 16,000 In use. Liberal discount for Cash.
ORGANS.
EM3MITH. AND YELOCTEIET. PELTJN &CO
5 Stops for $11X), 6 Stops $l2), 7 Stops for
$l5O, &c., &c.
PIANOS
BY KNABE ct CO., E.; GABLER, CALEN—
HERO, FISHER, HALE, ho.
From $250 Upwards to $l5OO.
ONLY FORIALE AT
BELLAK'S
IHR FINDET BY MIR DIE BESTE, GRO.
ESTE A USWAHL, DRY GROESTENSTOOR
RILLIOSTEN PREISE, AND DIE LEICHT
ESTEN TERMS. ml-lyw9
ROOFING SLATE.
floor's° SLATE—PRICES REDUCED
The undersigned hes constantly on band •
supply of Roofing Slate for sale at Reduced
Prices. Also, an extra LIGHT ROOFING
SLATE, intended for slating on shingle room.
Employing the very best slaters all work Is
warranted to be executed In the beet manner.
Builders and others will find It to their Inter
est to examine the samples at Wm. D.:Rprech
er's Seed Warerooms, No. 31 East King 'lreet,
Lancaster, Pa., 2 doors west of the Court House.
We have •so the Asbestos Roofing for flat
room, or wr ere slate and shingles cannot be
used. It is far superior to Plastic or Gravel
Rooting.
deoll.utlaw
GEO. D. BPREOHEB.
ET79 AND OIL CLOTHS....
C Thomas Depuy, 87 South Second street,
abOVO Chestnut, East Bide, Philadelphia, woul
call the attention of those wishing to paschal
Carpeting., to his large and choice line of For.
eign and Domestic, both In relation to quali
ties as well as styles. Also, Olt Clothe,Matting:,
Rugs, /fiats, Stair-Rods, etc.,cto., at lowest cash
prices. olgmFddlcaSas
N. STEWART DEP se U p Y is not at 2:6
South Second, but is with Thomas Dewy!
18274rnw 19