Br HENRY J. STATILE:
38 TH . YEAR.
TERMS OF THE COMPILER.
[l:7"The Reßailcars rampiler is published
every Monday; morning, by Hssar J. STATILE,
at $1,75 per •annum if paid_ in advance-62,00
per annum if not paid in advance. No sub
. . ••
8• tSS - 1/t the option-o
the publishetr. - until all-arrea rages are paid.
ADV/MTIS;iSICENTS inserted at the usual rates.
Wont:: done, neatly, cheaply, and. with
dispatch./
11:71. Mice on South Baltimore street, direct
ly opposite lVampler's Tinning Establishment,
one r..nd a half squares from the Court House.
Valuable Plantation,
FOR SALE.
THE FARM late of Jour; Wivasto,N, Esq..
deed., formerly belonging to Henry
M undorff, containing 149 Acres of Pat.
elated Land, situate near Petersburg,
York Springs, lying on Bermudian Creek,
near the State road leading from Petersburg to
Gettysburg. There is on said Farm a good
two-stoy LOG DWELLING
HOUSE, Bank Barn, Wagon ; • : , ; ',•;'•s I
Shed, Corn Crib, Cooper Shop, j
a neverfaiting spring of water
near the house, with a Spring-house over the
same, and other ont houses. About 25 or 30
acres are in good Timber, from 10 to. 12
acres in Meadow; and an Orchard of good fruit.
This Farm lying on a neverfailing stream of
water, and having also a M ill seat thereon, and
being within two miles of several Lime Kilns
in active operation, make it a desirable proper
ty. A part has been limed. The terms will
be made very accommodating. as considerable
part of the purchase money may remain in the
hands of th e purchaser, if desiret.'.
Siti-If said property is not sold before
Sctfurday, the 151 h day of December next, it will
on that day he offered at Public Sale, at' 1
o'clock, on the- premises. 'For further par
ticulars apply to DAN'L. SHEFFER.
Acting Executor of the estate of John Wiermao, dec'd
York Springs, Nov. 19, 1855.
A Good Farm,
AT PUBLIC SALE.
TN pursuance of an Order of the Orphan's
A. Court of Adams county, the Subscriber,
Administrator of Ptipt SHEELY f deceased,
will oiler at Puhlic Sale, on the premises, on
Tuesday, the 18th day of Deceni'er next, a
small FARNI,.late the property of said dece-
dent,situate in Muuntpleasant township,Adams
- county, adjoining lands of Peter• Weikert,
Solomon Snyder, and others, containing 65
Acres, more or less, on Which are erected a
very roomy one and a half story
DWELLING HOUSE, Log Barn B M
and all necessary outbuildings, with a -
neverAiiling well of water at the door. There
is also an Orchard on the premises.
oz:7-Persons wishing to view the properly.
are requested to call upon Solomon Miller, re
siding therion. -
o*-Sale to commence at 10 o'clock, A. M.,
on said day, when attendance will be given
and terms made known by
JOHN HA UPTIsiAN, .9dner.
By the Court—J. J. BALDWIN, Clerk.
Nov. 26, 1855. is
Valuable Land,
AT PUBLIC SALE.
The subscriber, desiring to quit farming,
will offer at Public Sale, on the premises, on
Saturday, the 2:2d day_i)rDecensber next, about
25 Acres of choice Land, situate in Cum
berland township, Adams county, within a
few hundred yards of the Borough line, ad
pining lands of Mrs. Gw-inn and Abraham
-- Spangler, and Byer Green Cemetery. The .
ronts on it3Timore urnpike. The
toil is of the best quality, being "Granite,"
than which there is none more productive.
The tract will he offered in lots, or alto
gether, to suit purchasers. A rare opportuni
ty is thus afforded to secure choice lots—such
a Jne as may not again present itself fur many
years.
,"Sale to commence at 1 o'clock, P. M.,
on said day, when attendance will be given
and terms made known by
DANIEL BEITLER.
Oct. 22, 1855. td
Public Sale.
THE Subscriber will offer at Public Sale,
on Saturday, the 15th of Decent!ler-next'
at 2 o'clock, P. M., on the prem
ises, the Frame ROUGH-CAST ; ,t;-?Ur
DWELLING, situate in East 7; i l::tart.:
Middle street, nearly opposite the ' 4 •
Methodist Episcopal Church, at present occu
pied by Mr. John McElroy.
-• ALSO -
At the same time, wit! he offered a
BRICK DWELLING, in same
street, adjoining properties of Pe- '.2,,. / t .: 1 ;
ter Lutz and George Swope.
Terms will be made known on day of sale by
Nov. 19,1855. is S. R. TIPTON.
_____
Public Sale
OF VALUABLE REAL ESTATE.
TN pursuance of an alias Order of the Or
pha'n's Court of Adams county, the Sub
scriber, the Trustee appointed by said Court
for the sale of the Real Estate of DAvio HAR
MAN, deceased, will offer at Public Sale, on the
premises, on Saturday, Me 22d day of Decent
ber next, the following described Real Estate,
viz: A FARM, containing 174 Acres,
more or less, situate in Straban township,
roomy-.---P-a,-,-adioi-rting - 1 a nil s o~ Isaac
Brinkerhoff, Isaac F. Brinkerhoff, Peter Mun
' fait, Abraham Lerew, John Brinkerhoff, and
William Stalismith, _The improve
ments are a Two-story Lo , Weather- -. 1
boarded HOUSE with Frame Fitch-
Ei•
;'en, a new Frame Barn, with Sheds,
Spring House, and the usual out-buildings ; a
well of water near the door never known to
fail, (a pump in it.) supplying also the barn
yard ; and an excellent Orchard. There are
abotit - 35 — acws — ofiroo - d — TiThlier, and ab - Out 30
acres of excellent Meadow. There are several
good springs on the Farm. and water in near
ly every field. The property is within half a
mile of the Fork Turnpike. 3 miles from Get
tysburg, and 2 from Hunterstow 11. The prop
erty will be shown to persons desirous of
viewing it, by Samuel Harman, residing on
the place..
(6—Sale to commence at 10 o'clock, A. M.
.
on sat ay, - w ten atten. ance pct
and terms-made known by
SA 11 II EL \VIE ST, ;trustee.
By the CGurt—.l. J BALnwtrt, (Jerk.
st&-If not sold on .aid day, it will be for
Rent by the Heir.i.
Nov. 26,1855. is
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3 Antil4 iirtusgappr----11runiiit In Volitiri, t_ilgrirniturr, Orrnturr, virtu aith I,Nriturts, ict4r 31.14thrtg, 6rurral nnurgili • litth Sarrign Ittelligrurt, alraertising, luasrmcnt,
e given
timice pork».
My "Other Me."
AMIE
Ah plemetnt things to me the rain did whisper,
As 1 sat dreaming in my easy chair,
Without a thought for urgent tasks unfinished,
And for the swift hours haring little care.
I wandered back along a path of sbadowl,
With near a score.of mile-stones on its way,
And came at last where May was sweetly blooming,
While o'er the mountains crept the morning grey
It was the land of dreams ; and yet the cottage,
With its low roof and moodhine-shaded door,
Was like to one where passed my suuoy.clAihlhood,
And in my - waking can be mine no more
There was a band of little ones before it,
- With aun-burnt brows, and brown, uncovered feet,
That knew full well the clear brook's pebbled bottom,
-But never trod'a hard and dusty street. ' .
I looked in all their eyes. and oh ! what beaining
Of budding hopes and sinless fai th_ was there,
And when their joyous laugh went up to heaven,
The angels must have borne it as a prayer.
I looked in all their eyes, and 'neath the lashes
Of one. the wildest in her heart-taught glee,
A soul looked forth, and spake M mine a welcome,
Auddown I knelt; clasping ••THAT OTIDSR.XE !"
I pressed her long unto my lonely bosom,
And 'felt her dearest that the world did hold;
And was I vain ? She was a sinless creature,
And earth is blighted, sorrowful, and cold.
She was not like to me, whom years have given
A tempted heart, that ever goes astray;
Who cannot lift my eyes in trust to Heaven,' -
For doubts that bore my child-like faith ray.
She was not like to me: bur heart was sinless, .
And I could see within her April breast
The tender germs, 0 011RIST; 0 lore of heaven!
That might have proved to me a balm most blest !
I saw her love without a stain upon it,
Her faith as pure as prayers she nightly wild ;
Her hopes so fair, they were the angel-bringers
Of the sweet dreams that came to bless her bed
I could not say 'two I--the tender blossom,
That this dark day bath been so nigh my heart i
Oh ! no, alas ! for si nce the years have met me,
The cord that bound us two bath Inapt apart.
God keep and sometimes send tbat , t , other me"
To warn my feet, as she hath done to-day,
By all my foot-prints from the path of right,
And by the mile-stones passed upon my way !
Westchester, (N. Y.) —KcsICKISRISOCIERR
Select Story.
Take Care of Your Overcoat.
Bram Sir, your glove.
Vat— Not wine"; wy gloves are on.
Two GaimastaN OF VERONA
"That's a very pretty overcoat, James his
just laid upon the sofa, Harry," said Mrs. Gor
don to, her son, looking at a sleek, plump,
wadded paletot, which the servant had just
brought in from the tailor ; "but you must
excuse the question, and not think me a very
stingy or curious specimen of womankind.
What can you do with so many overcoats ?
Why, this must be the third"—
The fifth, my dear mother," replied Harry
Gordon, - looking over the top of his newspapet
-with his bright black eyes, which his mother,
like many others of her . sex, never looked at
without admiring ; "the fifth ; and I shouldn't
wonder‘that, before the winter is over, I shall
have to say, with Banquo, and 'yet an eighth
- _
appears.' "
•'•I'll see no more," interrupted Mrs. Gordon,
laughing.
"You wont see them any more, my dear
mother—meaning the overcoats—for I assure
you; they vanish like the witches' visions ;
and where the deuce they go to, I can't tell you
—all I can say is, that men, when they come
away from balls, can't see quite as clearly as
when they go there ; for somebody always
takes mine, and leaves me nothing—not even
an old one."
'.'PrcFving_that some people must, when thcy
leave these balls, not only have an obscured
vision, but actually see double, and taking
themselves for two men, put on two paletots !
Well, Harry, my son, it is at least a consola
tion to find that you are always in a most ex
emplary state of sobriety ; your overcoats bear
witness to your devotion to the Maine Law—
for if the man who takes two paletots, is—
whatever men call it—slightly exhilarated. I
believe is the polite term—the luau who gets
no overcoat at all, can have got no wine. So,
my sober son, let me diligently prepare for
you another cup of this beverage, 'which
cheers. but not inebriates.'"
And Mrs. Gordon pe g an,to pour out the tea ;
for the new overcoat had arrived as she and
her son were sitting at- breakfast, one• cord
morning in January.
They were a happy pair, this mother and
son ; there were few so called "loving couples"
that could match them. To have opened any
of the splendid dining-room doors, where on
that morning everybody was at breakfast, in
this grand street leading into Fifth Avenue—
a street short, pompous, and plethoric, from
having swallowed up the ground of twelve
houses, and digested it into six—one would
not have found a more inviting breakfast-table,
before which to draw a well-stuffed chair, and
sit down, on this cold. freezing. raining, sleet
ing, slippery, sloppy, January morning.
The fire, an unctuous, blazing Liverpool
coal-fire, flamed in the grate, and a small
round table, with its snow-white cloth, bright
silver tea-trappings, and its white and gilded
cups and saucers, was drawn cozily up to it—
the solemn square dining-table remaining im
movable in its usual place, in the centre of
the soft, bright carpet.
Seated opposite each other, in low,- broad,
lazy arm-chairs, that looked intended as a
transition froi pose-oFTI e nto t to the
of s othe_day, were Mr. Harry Gordon and
his mother.
Mrs. Gordon had been left a widow, with
.an easy jointure and a little boy. at an early
age. For the sake of the jointure, Mrs. GO/ drm
had found many suitors; but for the sake of
the boy, she had refused them all ; and his
affection, his devotion, had well rewarded her,
if, indeed, she lost anything by not having a
husband—a doubt which we do not presume
to solve.
- As --- for. Harry G5 - rdiii;bew - iiichit a
boy, well endowed by nature with intellect
and heart, would ever,be, if mothers wuuld
condescend to develop the one and direct the
other.
He was generous, conscientious, high-spirit
ed, contented with himself, the world, things
in 'general, and hi,. own in particular ; fond of
society, which returned the compliment, and
tuade_aniduLof_hicu_rglor-ying—i-n---his home;
which, since he could lisp the word, had been
made the bright oasis of his life—and adoring
his motlier,_w hoin_he thought sentinto-the
world as a type of every virtue and excellence
—his tender, his refined, his beautiful (Harry
actually thought her beautiful, though she
WM forty) tuo;.her, whose image and EACCSt
GETTYSBURG, PA.: MONDAY, DEC. 10, 1855.
memory had, in the multifarious temptations
of a young man's existence,. so often stood be
tween him and harm. How could he be guilty
of any . action he could not tell his nitre, noble
mother, as was his custom every morning, as
they lounged over their breakfast table ? This
hour, or rather these hours, were exclusively
his mother's—the hours in which she langhed
with him at the fun and frolics of his evening's
exploits—related for her amusement; or coun
seled him, as he told her his hopes and fenrs,
the dilemmas and perplexities of his business
life : for, though Harry was a great man in the
ball-rooms up -town, he was a man of no small
importance downtown, too—where he had ta
ken his father's place in one of the largest
commercial houses.
. Harry was no idler, no lazy fop--no langaid
"Young American." He did not disdain any
thing, not even the dusty old counting-house,
where his father and his father before him,
had made so much money,: and he spent it
nobly and judiciously for the good of all.
But Harry's mother, sure of his steadiness
an , , high principle, of his industry and energy
in his career, as a citizen and a merchant,
strove in every way to make his young days
bright and happy, by forwarding hiS amuse
ments when the hours of toil were over.
She herself had given up, from sheer indiffer
ence, her
_position - in Me •world ;" but her
connections enabled het to launch Harry into
our best society. Then, when he had his
friends to entertain, there was no need of bar
rOoms club-rdom - s, or restaurants ; Mrs.
Gordon was delighted to open her house--:her
Harry's home—to his friends. To remain with
them, with. hospitable grace receiving them,
and adding a charm to all, by her wit and
cheerfulness—or merely to see that all was
right for_ harry and his guests, if, with his arm
round her, and a little tap on her cheek. Har
ry, looking admiringly at her, would say—
"Mother mine, dinner for six, to-morrow—
iced chothpagne, if you please, tnadatn—any
thing else you like—hilt_ yuur fair self—your
ladyship's presence' will be dispensed with on
this occasion."
Then Harry's mother would laugh, and
shake her finger at him, and cheerfully set
about the necessary preparations. But she
was nowise offended or alarmed at the , prohi
tion regarding herself, for she knew that youth
has its frolics ; she actually - imagined that
young men living in the world, might
,have
things to talk about, and ways of talking abou t
them, which could nowise interest her, a wo
man. But she did not, for that, imagine that
the orgies of ancient Rome were to be enacted
under her roof; she knew that Harry respected
it and her• too much for that. In fact, Mrs.
Gordon was a model woman ; knew her own
duties and her own position, and fulfilled both ;
till Harry was - so happy, that (this was the
great charge against him from the girls in up
per-tendom.) he did nut appear to think in the
least that he wanted a wife. Yet there were
many who could have reminded him that he
was five-and-twenty—that he was rich, pros
perous, and had a fine house, all ready furn
ished, and that all he wanted was a Wife. But
ho was very obtuse on this point—the idea
could not be got into his brain.
Still, Harry went everywhere ; and on, the
morning we nave made his acquaintance, he
had just finished a most spirited description of
a grand Fifth Avenue fete, at which the flow
ers alone cost fifteen hundred dollars, and at
'which Mr. Harry Gordon had danced innume
rable schottishes, redowas, and polkas—won
HJ end of hearts, and lost—his overcoat.
"But you dear, stupid Harry !" continued
Mrs. Gordon, after her son had given her a'
description of the . various mishaps and myste
rious disappearance attending his overcoats ;
id-it - never — occur - to — you — to - putyournai be—
into your paletots.?"
"Heavens, mother ! what an idea ! Have
one's name written on one's coat collar, so
that if you hang your coat over your ,seat at
the theatre, .or throw it down in n_public
everybody may say, ever afterward, 'there
goes John' Smith !' " --- -
"Oh, I beg pardon," said Mrs. Gordon ;
"well, let us regokt to a half measure, then,
and suppose we carelessly drop one of your
own cards into the .pocket—so," said Mrs.
Gordon, and taking one from the mantle-piece,
and walking across the room, she put her ad
vice iu practice, and depoptited in it. a smooth
piece of pasteboard, on which was engraved—
"llA RAY +GORDON,
"No. —, Street."
That evening, he again betook himself t one
of the aristocratic camelia fetes, /with which
the merchant princes about this time celebrate
the advent of a new year. What were his ex
ploits there, we are nut about to set down, for
they concern us not—nor did they him ; for,
as he danced along the broad pavements, so
shining and crackling under his fees, all he
thought of was that. lie really had secured his
new overcoat this time—and that it Was migh
ty comfor,able, too, for the sharp-cutting wind
blew in his face. __But he merely put back his
hair from his eyes, and threw up his head with
a sort of bold defiance. as if to enter into con
test with this same ..zEolos—(the proper type
of envy, nagging, irritating, restless. and inev
itable as it. t,)•--lOr nothing could put. Harry
out of temper.
So, as we have said, he went dancing'along,
his hands in the pockets of his new p,iletot, one
of them playing with the card his dear mother
had herself put into it.
"Dear, kind mother," thought Harry,
••
• • old 1 should hay •
though, after that but room and the sharp two
hours' cotillion. Graceful girl, that Einhy
Sykes, but she hasn't such beautiful eyes as
Ellen Drove. Ellen Dre we's eyes are so bright,
so sparkling. Talking of sparkling„ by the
bye, that was famous champagne Gld Groves
gave us ; how queer he looks, though, in his
tine rooms, su timidly bold, ready if he's
snubbed, to apologize for being there. Ah !
ah ! clever fellow, though. in a ousiness way.
By the bye, wonder if the Asia's Ifl—her news
• .y_tualie_the_chlterence of a few thousand to
us—everything mighty dull iu Europe, they
say.
—That Prima Donna wall is pretty—'!t has
a dying fall.' By Jove ! it' is cold. though'
that gust, just as I turned the corner, quite set
my teeth ou edge. Lucky the famous overcoat
is padded and stuffed like a mattress, or moth
er's darling might have caught a consumption.
Well, here I am—but who's come. and what's
le-matter-?'-'---continued Harry, as, within a
few steps of his hotne, he perceived that there
was a carriage at the door, and a gentletnan
standing on- the steps, evidently waiting- for
him.
He hastened on ; but scarcely did he set his
foot on the first step, before the gentlemail tie
Gad owl on the top of them, rushed down,
" TEXTII 19 AIIGIITT, AND WILL PRRVAIL."
putting ono hand on his arm to secure him,
whilst with the other he held a piece of paste
board toward him, exclaiming in a loud, angry
tone—
•
"Are you Mr. Harry Gordon 1"
am, sir," said Harry, drawing sway from
his grasp. much astonished and somewhat of
tended at the peremptory manner in which he
was addressed: though his interrogator was a
stout old gentleman, and ; in a state of consid-
erable excitement.
“Then, sir, you've got my overcoat, and my
overcoat's r ot the key of my house in the pock
et : one of your precious New York boarding
houses, where the Irish servants are as grand
and sleepy as their masters, and wont stir,
sir. I wish we had them at the South for a
little training, that's all ! Why, we'rang, and
rang, and rang. and waited, and shouted—
bless you. sir, we might- as well have shouted
to the towers or Trinity Church. So I found
your card. and in . despair I came here after
niy key—and you've staid at that stupid ball
so lute, dancing away in those confounded hot
rooms, whilst I've been dancing here.- sir, on
your cold stoop, waiting for uty paletot and
my key.”
With these words, the gentleman began vio
lently to take off his -coat. Harry, perfectly
astounded at the fatality which appeared to
attend his overcoats, had listened with resigned
humiliation to the reproachful harangue, and
with a sort of dogged desperation, began to ab
stract himself from the garment ho had so
praised and so pressed to his boSom, and which,
after all, was not his own.
"Here, sir, bete," said the cid gentleman,
holding out Harry's overcoat ; "hero's your
coat, (devilish tight it was—l only wonder I
didn't split it in the back,) and there's your
card, back again in the pocket. Now give we
mine, and let me get my key."
Harry held forth the offending paletot, which
had su deserted its inaSter, and •the old gentle
man, before eagerly
. he took it from him, began eager
to feel in the pockets.
''By Heaven. all. you've lost the key!"
"Lost the key. sir ! there was.no key in it
when I put it on, I assure you."
"Nu key I"
"No, sir—only a card," replica Harry, hold
ing out the card with which he had fumbled on
his way home.
"A card !" shouted the strange gentleman,.
in a perfect tone of horror ; "a card ! I put no
card there !" and running up .to the neighbor
ing gas-light, he exclaimed, understand it
all—that aim, wry paletot ! I got yours, but
oh, you didn't get mine ! Sure enough," con
tinued shaking the fatal coat, which hung
still on Harry's arm ; "sure enough, that isn't
mine." Then turning round to the carriage,
he exclaimed, _
”Susy, Susy dear, what shall I 'do ? He's
come .and he hasn't got the coat. , 1 -liad his,
but he's got somebody else's." .
-Who's papa ?" replied n feminine voice, at
which voice Mr. Harry Gordon turned toward
the carriage also. and-beheld= by-the - light of
the gas-light, which tell full upon it, a sweet
little face, with heaps of light, crisp auburn
ringlets. (kept in coil by the frost) clustering
round it—the oval outline of the face,- and the
regular features, being defined by a' delicate
pink and white satin hood, which was tied
closely under the chin.
At the sight of this face, Mr. Hairy Gordon,
doffing his hat. advanced to the carriage.
-The lady is right. sir," said he, looking at
the lady, but speaking to the gentleman ;
•'who's paletot have you got ?. Let us read
the card."
The old gentleman mechanically held it out,
and Harry's young and quick•sighted eyes
read, by the uncertain light ; some very twisted
an - d - etalioraTe - ciaratters;wh - i - elf - tAetlYer r
the name of
"MR. J. SMITH."
"Where ?" said the old gentleman.
“W hero ?” exclaimed the voice from beneath
the little pink and white satin hood ; "where,
pa, dear, is'nt, Mr. J. Smith everywhere ! 011,
pa, W-e-are-nuartyrs to the Smiths !" 'and the
little hood laughed much a buoyant, silvery,
catching laugm, that Barry couldn't help
laughing too.
-"lt's mighty fine to laugh," said the old
gentleman, standing petrified, his eyes immov
auly fixed on the gorgon name ; "but what's
to be done ?"
•'Allow me to assist you. sir, I perceive you
arc a stranger in New York—l trust you will
permit me.to show you that we have some hos
pitality at the North. For the honor of the
North I. hope you will condescend to accept my
proposition. My mother, sir, resides with me
in this house ; you, if I understand right, have
no "family awaiting you at home ; you had bet
ter allow my mother, Mrs. Gordon, the pleas
ure of receiving ibis young lady for the night—
whilst I, sir, can offer you a room. We have
always one or two for
,our friends."
• Well, sir," said the old gentleman, taking
Harry's hand' and giving it a hearty shakei
"that's s kind offer—l didn't think you cau
tions, cold northerners were capable of such a
thing. My name's Mansfield, sir—Mansfield.
of Alabama. Groves knows all about me—and
this Is my daughter, Susan, come up to see the
lions."
hurry bowed, and the hood gave a gentle
inclination forward, which brought some of the
shining curls over its.eyes; but the tini:st lit
tle hand, protruding with just the white, round,
small wrist, from the broad, white satin sleeve
of the burnous, quickly thrust them back.
•
"Papa," quickly interrupted Susan, "you
couldn't think of such a thing—waking Mrs.
Gordon at this time of night. Indeed. sir."
added she, turning her eyes lull on Harry, (by
which he, who never lust an opportunity, dis
covered• that they were large, earnest, deep
blue eyes—just the eyes he admired—very like
his mother's. he thought.) "we could not think
of troubling Mrs. Gordon—though we are, of
course, very grateful to you. I think we must
try our boarding-house again, papa; unless"
—and she turned somewhat archly toward
Harry, with her little silvery laugh--••unless,"
continued she, -Mr. Gordon can tell us where
Mr. J. Smith lives."
Harry laughed, and thought "How wonder
luny deep blue eyes can change their express
sion ! I wouldn't give a tig tor a wtnortil that
always looks the same. although Jne were us
beautiful as the tire,lk slave !"
know a. Mr. Smith," interposed the driver,
"and he aint far from hero."
"Let's go," said .) , Ir.Mansfield, resolutely,
opening the carriage door.
- "Allow me to go - with y - ou.' - tit - id — Gordon.
"I really couldn't feel content if I knew you
were wandenng about in search of Mr. J.
Smith. You know it's all my fault, and I
kitiow ,New York ways better tbau you do, and
may perhaps get at Mr. J. Smith sooner than
you
“Come along, and thank you."
Harry jitinped in. the driver closed the door.
and off they started in search of Mr. J. Stnith
. Harry sat opposite to the corner whencpro
ceeded the little silvery laugh. All be-el:eat)
see was a sort of vapory cloud of gauze. and
the tip of a little white satin- shoe, on the dark
carpet of the as they ,passed the gas ,
lights. By these same friendly lamps he per
ceived. also, the„Mitline of a beautiful and
graceful form,. enveloped closely in a white
satin burnous: with a heavy pink and white
fringe. The deepehlue eyes and the waving
hair, which (landed and played to the, jolting
of the Cat riage, and the yielding form, nestled
in the corner, made a pretty picture.
Scarcely were they on their way. before Miss
Mansfield addressedhim.
"This is a Most delightful adventure !
though I hope you wont take cold,' papa—that
would spoil IL" .
..Put on Mr. J. Smith's paletot," said Harry,
laughing.
"By Jove, I
. will !" replied Mr. Mansfield,
"I hope it isn't as, tight us yours."
, •You were at the Groves's, then 1" said
Harry.
"Di be sure I was ; but you didn't see me,
I've no doubt."
Harry, flunking' how stupid he had been to
have seen any one else, replied--
••I
_went late, and I :danced a good- deal—
and"—
"And you didn't see me ; it's no use, Mr.
Coral', trying to compose a civil speech. I
am nobody, you know ; so.we will date our
acquaintance from this present wondrous ad
venture—a pilgrim age in search of Mr. John
Smith and a pnletot.'
"And „a key," put in the father. • .
And SO they journeyed on. through the quiet,
silent streets—all talking and laughing as mer
rily as though they had been old friends—for .
Harry's temper was bright and joyous, and
Miss Mansileld's seemed to be even and cheer.
ful as his own. Not ono word of discontent or
reproach to her father---her spirit, appeared un
wearied, whatever her frame might be ; and
though she might be a nobody at a New York
ball, she certainly was calculated to be a per-
sonage of the greatest importance. -with all who
knew her and came within'the ihtluence. of ber
Might intellect, her relined manner, her sweet
temper and affectionate disposition—not for
getting the radiant, deep blue eyes, and the
sunny hair.
"Here's Mr. Smith's," said the coachman,
at lrit.
'.Let me get out,"said Harry, leaping to the
ground ; 441'11 make 'em hear, I'll warrant."
He rang, and. rang ; and then, when he ima
gined his tocsin had sounded the alarm, and
Ntroused the drowsy sleepers, Harry tapped at
ttie—ba-sement window.
"Whal — dTiiMi - Wiint 3" said s gruff voice,
half opening the window, and admitting to
view a Eulky, fat,-black faOe. "What do you
want, sir I"
-Mr. Smith," boldly replied Harry.
''Which Mr. Smith?"
"Mr. John Smith," ventured Harry.
"That aint here," said the black head. with
drawing itself.
"James Smith !" shouted Mr. Mansfield,
from the carriage.
"Jeremiah !" suggetited the silvery voice,
with a laugh.
"Josiah !" again said Harry, but the black
head exclaimed, in. a state of extreme -hrita
tion.:—
•.That aint it! Got along with you all—
you're n-making fun on rue !" and closing the
window with a bang, Harry and the coachman
mot% in blank consternation, one toih - e
other.
DIM
aunt a-going any further," said the coach =
man ; "my nags is tired and so be I, and I aint
ti -going any fin tiler."
up to my house, - wont you 1" said
Mr. 2,lanstield.
"No, T wont—that's West Twenty• Third
street—miles and miles oil, '
‘.l3tit you'll ),;o to mine, that's close by,"
said Thiry, insinuating a corpulent silver
- •
piece into the Coachinain: hands, us he got into
the carriage.
"‘There is no help for it, my dear sir, it it,
three o'clock, you cannot keep Miss Mansfield
any longer in thin cool air, after dancing all
night." .. • - -
-*Tired, Susy, are you, darling ?" said Mr.
Mansfield. turning toward his,llaughter,
sure I am."
'•Then," said Sasy, gracefully addressing
Harry, 'let us really consider this night as one
taken entirely out of our common every-day
life ; let us suppose we are some centuries older:
let us suppose these tall houses forest trees,
myself a benighted damsel, with an exiled
father, (you, dear papa,) and imagine that we
encounter a gallant knight-errant—yourself.
Mr. Gordon--and so accept the hospitality of
your castle. What part we are to assign to
Mrs. Gordon, is the.only thing that puzzles
me."
"Oh, she will play the good fairy and set all
rightr—she never dnes anything but, good
thing;," said Harry.
And now they arrived ; and Harry, opening
his door with the tiny pass-key his mother had
had made to fit his waistcoat pocket. (he never
forgot or changed his waistcoat, as he did his
overcoats.) introduced, with alt possible defer-
TOOM.
Len ving them there, he proceeded to his mo
ther's room. In five minutes explained all, in
another five, Mrs. Gordon was down stairs.
and in _ten, minutes more. Mr. Mansfield and
Susy were each in a comfortable bed-room ;
where, going to sleep on their luxurious pil
lows, Mr. Mansfield dreamed of his paletot and
Mr. James Smith ; and Susy, of Harry Gordon
and his fascinating' manner; whilst Harry
didn't sleep at all, but thought all the while of
the blue eyes and waving hair of Susy Mans
field.
(-Next morning there were three persons
gathered round the breakfast•table, by the
fireside. Mr. Mansfield bad gone up early,
and sent down suitable apparel for his daugh
ter, and had promised to call for her in a few
hours.
Merrily.the three talked over the last night's
events, and the ball ; and Mrs. Gordon quizzed
Harry about his overcoat?, and unmercifully
told Susan how Harry always did lose his
overcoats ; and then Susan laughed at him. too,
and Harry bore it wonderfully well, and seem
ed rattier to like it than otherwise.
And then there was a concert in the evening,
for which Mrs. Gordon had tickets, and Miss
31anstield bad not—and so, another supply of
clothes was bent tor, and :Sir. Mansfield stayed
riends into Ow
OM
to dinner. and Miss Mansfield stayed again till
morning. and then Mrs. Gorton told Harry that
thought Miss Mansfield was too Sweet and re. -
fined a creature to be et a boarding-house
and Harry coincided with this opinion—and
then Mrs. Gordon suggested she shOuld ask her
to stay with them for gust the time they 'tern
to remain in New York. . .
"You're so much away, Barry, It .wont in
terfere with you to have a young lady in the
house."
Harry thought it — wouldn't. and so Mis*
Mansfield stayed, and Mr. Mansfield came ind
dined. and talked with Mrs. Gordon, and they
found out many mutual friends. and were quite
taken up with old remembrances. And Harry ,
and Susy—oh, they strolled about the long,
pompous parlors, and Susy opened the fine
Chickering piano. which from a mere thousand
dollar piece of fit rniture. became,, beneath lies
skillful hand, awakened into the dignitrand
magic of art—and her light step and taliery
laugh sounded through'the rooms, end up 'and
down the broad stairs, making Mrs—Gordon
sm il e an d t ee ) happy, even when Harry wag
away—and altogether, it appeared, as though
rays of light had suddenly penetrated into the
calm, solemn dignity of the happy. but (obit
home. - -
Susan stayed, and stayed. First it wen ens
excuse, then another, there were plenty to be
found in the busy taintral time of New York
and, at last, when really neither Mrs. Gorden
could find another for keeping Susi% no Sus ::
for staying,nor ?de., Mansfield for delaying, his
return to Alabama. Mi. Harry Gordon 'fimnd
an admirable ene, which satisfied - -them
he converted ?dial; Susan. Mansfield-into , Mra:
Harry Gollllll.—ilAd so she never went Way,
at all.
"Take eare of your overcoat," said"
13w.
laughing,. to his son; Ikli qhe
and bridegroom drove off on theirwedding
cursion. for the last you lost OAT,' ytnanwifq, •
and Susy is very jealous, I warn you."
"I'll take care both of Ilarry and' his over
coat," said Susan funding and kissing her hand
to her father. , , •
And we suppose she did, for Barry looked
happier and happier every year—and he never
lost his overcoat again, because it was always,
wheh he went to bills, most carefully, Ivrap i .
pod up with a beautiful. delicate; discreet
white satin burnout', which never wandered
from its mistrass,And which, after ontwil had•
taken the , impress of, her grace and elegance,
never could be mistaken for, anybody a but
the sweet darling. Mrs. Harry Gordon'tv-;—as
everybody called Busy; for everybody loved
Situ excepting Harry_ and his mother-and
they adored her. .
We always look upon our houses as: triere
temporary lodgings. We are always - , bnping ,
to getlarger and liner ones, or are forced some
way or other to live' when we dO ChoOse. ,
and in continual expectation of changing Our
place of abode. In the pssent state Ufsociety,
this is Ina great measure unavoidable ; but lot;
us remember it is an evil, and tbat so tar as it
is avoidable, it become.; our duty to check the
impulse. * * * It is surely 6, stibject for
serious thought; whethei it Might not be bet- .
ter for many of us, if, in 'attaining a certain,po
sition in life. we determinedovith God's pee
mission. to choose a house m which to live anr
die—a home not to be increased by adding
stone to stone and field to field. but which-4 7 "
ing enough for all our wishes at that petiod,
wo should be resolved to be satisfied with for
ever. Consider this, and also. whether we
ought not to be more in.the habit of seeking.
honor for our deseendar.ts than oarandistors
hinking it-better-to be-noblywitintibered - than
nobly born ; and, striving to live that our son's
sons. .for ages to come, might still lead their
children reverentially to the doors out of which
wo have been carried to the grave, Sapping.
..Look, this was bid house . ; this was his obtim
ber,"—nuskin.
DANIEL WEBSTER IN Ills YOuTii.--A
collec
tion of Daniel Webster's letters,-Witlibiograph
ical notes, is about to be published in Boston,
from which a correspondent of the New Yori
Evening Post extracts few passages. It ap
pears that Daniel, while . a law student helped
to support his brother Ezekiel, at Co!lego, by
copying &eds. &c. The latter also occasional
ly recruiting his finances by school teaching.
The correspondence between the two. on the
ways and means, is interesting. Daniel writes
to his brother, under date of Selisbury, N. .11.,
Nov. 4.1842, as follows:
"I bare now by me two cents in lawful fed
eral currency. Next week I will send them,
if they be all. They will buy a pipe—with a
pipe you can smoke —smoking implies wisdom
—wisdom is allied to fortitude—from fortitude
it is but one step to stoicism; and stoicism nev
er pants for this world's goods.. So, perhaps,
my two cents, by this process, way put you
quite at ease about cash.
Again, as late as June 10th. 1801, he writes
from Salisbury. after having declined a com
fortable office, in order to pursue a profession :
"Zeke. I don't believe but what Providence
will do well for us yet. We shall live, and
lire comfortably. I have this week come with
in an ace of being appointed Clerk of the Court
of Common Pleas, Per Hillsborough county.
Well. you will say, you are no better off than
if you had not come within an ace. Perhaps
I am—say nothing but think a good deal, and
•ono •t ri: !... .
rCa
f"'"Lawyers, according to Martial, are *‘rn9n,
who hire out. their words and anger." Their
words are very costly, although intri&ically
they often resemble the darkey'a account,.
which .‘didn't amount to any particular surn."-
n"".3ly wife is very attentive to the pigs,"
said a gentleman the other day, in the pre4ence
of several
" That accounts for her attachment to you."
responded one of the fair damsels.
Pretty sharp joking. that.
3:7-By their I . ; uits ye shall know them,"
as the farmer exclaimed when he traced half
his golden pippins to the pockets of a truant
schoolboy.
3g"A, Cincinnati paper contains an adver
tisement of bonnets and petticoats for young
men's wear, to correspond with the shawls,
now so universally worn.
• Why don't your father take a newspa
per?" said a man to a little boy whom he caught
pilfering his paper from his doorstep:
he sends me to take it," answered the urchin.
ag'Quirk says lawyers would makeispien.
did dragoons—they are no awtal on a charge.
TWO DOLLARS A,YEAR.
NO. 11.
Our Hutulet