ADVERTISING RATES. • St. 1 mo. 301 M S mom. 1 or. I.&t . 1.73 3.30 IL IX) el.ou :um 11.510 10.40 4.W MO' Ul 13.111 11.00 LW 1Z OU 91.10 33.110 10.1X1 31.00 31.0 U MAI LIAO 3230 ThLIU 80.09 21.111 30.00 8.1.111 130.01 Ono Square, Two &Lawes . Three Squares Six Squares, . Quarter Column Half Column One Column • Professional Cards &Limper lino per year. Administrator's and Auditor's Notices, 113.10. City Notices, SO cents per lino let insertion, 1.1 cents per line each subsequent Insertion. Ten lines, agate constitute • square.' • WILLS & IREDELL, PUBLISIIEUB. Aj.LENTOWN. re financial. UNION PACIFIC RAILROAD CO. CENTRAL PACIFIC It. R. CO. FIRST MORTGAGE BONDS This crenlsuterpriso io appropchicit completion with a rapidity thalastonlsbes (ho world. Over Aft eels hundred (15Ut/)mM* have born built by two (2) powerful cony patties: the Palen Pacific Railroad, beginning at Omaha, building west, and the Central Pacific Railroad, beginning at Sacramento, and building east, until the two roads shall moot. Less than Iwo hundred and gRy miles remain to be built. The greater part of the Interval In now graded, and it is reasonably expected that the throZigh connection between San Francisco and Now York will be completed by July 1. As the amount of Government aid given to each la de pendent upon the length or road each Anal build, both companies are prompted to groat efforts to secure the con struction and control of what, when completed, will bo one and the only grand Railroad Line connecting the Atlantic and Pne(fic Cl;cl4l{ . Ono Hundred and Ten Mullen Dollars 3110,000,0(0) In money have already been expended by the two powerful companies engaged in this great entorprioe, and they will speedily complete the port ion yet to be built. When the United States Government found It necessary to secure the construction of the Pacific Railroad, to develop and pro tect its own interest it gave the companies authorised to build it ouch ample aid no should render its speedy com pletion bcyond a doubt. The Government aid may be briefly summed nip as follows: Pint The right of way and all necessary timber and atone from public domain. Second, It makes a dtamtion of 12,800 acres of laud to. the mile, which when the road la completed, will amount to twauty-threemilliou(23,ooo,T(o)acres, and all of it with in twenty (M) miles of the railroad. Third. It loans the companies fifty million dollars (WO, 000,ov), for which it takes a second lien. Tho government has already loaned (ho Union Pacific Railroad twenty-four million and fifty-eight thousand dollars (101,058,0120. l and to the Central Pacific Railroad seventeen million six hundred and forty-olght thousand dollars ($17,018,000), amounting In all to forty-one million Boron hundred and six thousand dollars (11f1,700,000). Tho Companies ire permitted to Issue their own First Mortgage Bonds to the same amount as they receive from the United States, and .uo more. The companies have sold to permanent Investors about forty million dollars (slO,BU,isi) of their First Mortgage Bonds. The companies have already paid In (including net earuings not divided, grants from State of California, and Sacramento city and Frauclacu). upwards utUrda,ikß,lgo).twcuty-fivodl lion dollars of capital stock. WHAT IB THERE YET TO BE DONE ? In consideriug thin question it must be remembered that all the remaining Iron to finish the road is contracted for, and the largest peortienpaid for and now delivered on tho lino of the Union Pacific Railroad and the Central Pacific Railroad, and that the grading In almost dulnbed. WHAT RESOURCES HAVE THE COM PANIES - TO FINISH THE ROAD? First. They will receive from the Government as the road progresses about ►x,000,000 additional. Second. They can Issuo their own First Mortgage Bonds for about /19,000.000 additional. Third. The companies now hold almost all tho land they have up to this time received from dm Government; upon tho completion of the road they will have received In all 21,0en,000 acres, which at id 30 per acre would be worth 1104,300, 000. In addition to the above the net earnings of the roads and additional upltal, if necessary, could be called in to fin ish the road. WAY BUSINESS-ACTUAL EARNINGS No one has ever expressed a doubt that as xooq an the road la completed Its through boat.ax sritl be abundantly profitable. Oman earnings of the Union Pacidc Rail road Company for els months. ending January Int, 18111, were upward. of i 1.000.000 The earning.; of Central Pacific Railroad, for nix mouths, ending January lot, IBA w•ero Expenses Interest 6110,000 gold 430,000 • ` Net profit of Central Pacific Railroad, after paying all interest and expenses fur six muntha • •quakcoo gold The present gross earldoms of the Union and Central Pa elfin Railroads are $1,3110,000 monthly. ROW LARGE A IMMERSE; IS IT SAFE TO PREDICT • FOR TIIE GREAT PACIFIC RAILROAD We would give the following facts derived from Ship ping LION, Innuraueo Companion, llallronda and general Information:, Ships going from the Atlantic around Capo Horn, 100 ft 1.003 tuna Steamship+ connecting at Noma& with Call- fecal& and Claus, 63 Overland,Tralne, !Rages, Horace, etc., etc. Hero wo have two hundred 'and thirty thousand tons carried westward, and experience has shown In the last few years the return passengers from Cal trends have been nearly as numerous as those going. . ,HOW MANY PASSENGERS ARE THERE/ Wernake the following estimate, 110 Steamships (both ways) 21:0 Velma. Overland Present price (nveraging half the cost of the oteniushipm) for both passenger. and tonnage, givee the following re. salt. 171,01:10 passenger. at $I 400,010 lona, rated at $1 per cubic toot fat OA 000 Dui n g calculations upon the above figures, without al lowing for Ike large ittMeue of business, which ran safely be looked for, then estimate tho running expenses at one halt and we have a net Income of •10,51 1 , OW: Which, after paying the Interest ma the First Yortgagellonds and the ad, Tepees made by the tleveinment, would leave a not annu al income °flit:4,000,000 over and above all expenses and interest. The First Mortgage Bonds or the Union Pacific Railroad Company and the Pint Kurtzman Ronda of the Central Pacific Railroad Company ere both, principal and Inter. eat, payable la gold coin; they pay six per cent. Interest la gold coin, and nut for thirty you.. and they cannot be paid-before that time without the consent of the holder. First Mortgage Gold Bonds of the Onion Pacific Railroad for sato at par and accrued Interest, and First Mortgage Gold Bonds of the Central Pacific Railioad at Maud ac. *rued interest. DE RAVEN & BRO.; DEALEIDI IN a ovinxithetre SECURITIES, GOLD, VIV NO. 40 S. THIRD ST., PIIILADELPMA. (Jan 27 VOL. XXIII. THE LAWYER'S STORY. Evcrybody'knowa Hammer Nailsby. Oho I They know him well enough, and have felt s over and over again, how neatly he can pinch, how lightly he can clutch, how sharply he can bite. The old man has more than one cus tomer in this room. I've made many of you shake inyour shoes and sue for mercy in my time; and now, I Aare say, you're delighted to BCC the ruined, broken down, and a prisoner. If I was hard, if I was harsh, whose fault was it? I only wanted my money, I only asked for my own. If you sued to me for time, and sued me in vain, why didn't you write me out a check before you went down on your knees ? What's the good of going down on your knees If you havn't got any money ? As for your being glitd to see me in a sponging-house I don't care a button about it. Whoever I sued —whoever I outlawed—whoever I arrested— whoever I forced into Basinghall or Portugal Street—whoever I brought to misery and beg gary, had only himself to thank for putting himself into my power. Business Is business, and whatever I did was dons strictly in the way of business. I hate humbug. I was al ways open And above-board in business mat ters. I won't say any thing about being fair, because fairness wasn't in my line cif business. But you walked into my place with your eyes open. If I was a shark I opened my mouth and showed my teeth before I ate you. I never asked people to borrow my money *; but when they asked me to lend them some I said, ." Look here I'm not going to tell you any lies about parties in the City or clients in the country. It's mine—never mind where I got it front—and I intend to make as much money by turning and turning it over as many times a year as ever I possibly can. My rate of in terest's sixty per centum per annum. That means, if you don't pay me down on the nail when a hill comes due, a hundred and sixty per cent.—perhaps more. That's your look out.. I don't ask you to take my money. I'd much rather keep it, and there are plenty of uses quite as profitable which I can turn it to. But if you take it here's the stamp, and here's the bill, and here's the amount of interest you'll have to pay in three months' time, and here's the money ! There's no beating about the bush with me—what I say I mean. I'm none of your shuffling, pettifogging, tFo penny-half-penny bill discounters, who put a customer off with half wine, or half pictures, or jewelry, or camel's bits, or ivory frigates, or flint-lock muskets from the Tower ! There's so much money coming to you front this bill, and here's n check for amount, or If you like it better here's the cash in notes or gold." , Perhaps you'd like to know how I -took to lending money ? It doesn't matter a rap now If you know all. I'm a broken man—quite gone to the dogs, and I've no motive for con— _ceahnent. My father lent money before me. Ile kept an inn in a little market-town in Suf folk, nod lent money, at as high a rate as he could get for it, to the farmers round about.— They called him." Weasel" Nailsby, although his name was Peter, just as they clam Ham mer Nnilsby, although my nano is John.— Many were the standing crops mortgaged to my father; many were the flocks, and herds, And horses, anti farming implements which he had seized by the sheriff. His strong-box was full of leases and notes of hand ; and then ho made all the farmers who were in his debt come to his inn when they attended market, and eat and drink of the best at his own prices. There was a stupid story whispered round about our part of the country that great squire, Sir Percival Rightborn, of Orley Hall, had positively paid " Weasel" Nailsby a handsome sum of money to go away, and never to show his face—his ugly face, they call it—in that neighborhood again, as he was ruining all the farmers within a radius of seventy miles. But the story was mere lying gossip, and I fancy that Sir Percival Rightborn, of Orley Hall, was himself rather too deep in " Weasel" Nailsby's books to be able to pay him any thing to go away. However, my father did leave Suffolk eventually, and came up to town, where there was a much wider field for his abilities. He settled, gentlemen, in It highly, respectable neighborhood— that of . Clare 3ittiket ; and them for nearly twenty years, he" resided, prospering exceedingly. He made a rule of never lending more titan five pounds at a time —and he would have much preferred lending five shillings—and he never lent them for more than a (*blight. Those were in the days'be fore the county court, and all that rubbish, and you could pop a 'Wan .into the Fleet for forty shillings. In the course of time all the butchers about Clare Market, all the small tradesmen about Drily Lane—ay, and a good many market gardeners and florists in Covent Garden—had done , business with "Weasel" Nailsby. Oh, he was a sharp customer; was my dad ! My toothier was as sharp as he, and was not above lending a bit of money now and then, quite in a friendly manner, to the wives of workingmen or petty shop-keepers ; for which, of course, she took their husbands' I 0 U's.— She was a great hand, too, at persuading women to run up scores with the tallymen, who, in most cases, were merely agents of " Weasel" Nailsby. Ah, if my mother had been alive, I should never have fallen into the cursed scrape which has been my undoing.— "John," she used to say to me, " I've done business with my own sex, and it's only n woman that's fit to do business with 'em.— They're too sharp for the men, John. They'll have the best of you in the long-run ; and, though I say It that shouldn't, I warn you to keep clear of women, both in marriage and in money." She's been dead and gone nearly thirty years. f $1,750,000 gold i,onn, MO 191. 000 94000 70.0X1 factual for IfelL) 1,030 oottlmated •• 100,000 •• •• ,_. $17,403,000 15,610,000 I was sent to a school at Camberwell—a commercial school—when I was nine years old, to make me sharp. The master had been bankrupt in the Irish cattle trade ; but he wrote a beautifultand,and was a capital accountant. We didn't have any Greek and Latin, or French and drawing, or any of that kind of nonsense, but we were kept pretty stiffly to our slates and our copy -books, and at fourteen years of age I could write like copper-plate, and knew all about vulgar fractions and the rule of three. I should like to know how many of you grand young gentlemen who'ie had a college educa tion, as you call it, can say the same ? Direct ly / came from school, being, as I think, toler ably sharp, I was put into a lawyer's office in Lyon's Inn to make Inc sharper. Insolvency was the principle part of my employer's busi ness, and my time was mostly spent between Portugal Street, the Fleet, and the Marshalsea. When I was seventeen my father, to make Inc additionally sharp, made me for a time Ids own clerk, agent, and collector of rents ; for he had by this time bought the free-hold of a good many houses about Clare Market—nice, ruin ous tenements, let out is rooms at two shil lings a week—a better investment for a prudent landlord than the grandest mansion in Pall Mall. When I was twenty I was articled to another lawyer, a solicitor in Carey Street.— bt 3 , l :rbigh rottlitet. ALLENTOWTN, PA He never touched such small game as insolv ency ; but he was a wonderful hand at con ducting the affairs of fraudulent bankrupts. He did a good deal in the bill line too ; and before I was out of my articles I had become not only sharp, but hard—not only hard, but strong— I was Hammer Nailsby. I had just been admitted a solicitor—l'm one now, yet I dare say somebody will be trying to strike me off the rolls—when my father, the "Weasel," died, and I found myself the pos sessor of thirty thousand pounds, put away in safe investments. I was the only child, and sole residuary legatee ; and there was no non sense or bother about the will. I went into business for myself; and Hammer Nailsby, attorney-at-law, of Argyll Street, Regent Street, is, I flatter myself, a character pretty well known. I chose the West End as a place where to set up my office, for the reason that I bad a soul above buttons, that I despised the petty gains to be scraped from lending small sums to working tailors and chandlers' shop keepers in Clare Market; and that I felt that my real sphere of action was among the "Swells." Ecod ! I've made the swells dance to a pretty tune in my time. Sixty per cern. on a loan of fiVe pounds was all very well in my father, the " Weasel's" time ; but cent. per cent. on five thousand pounds was a kind of thing that suited Hammer Nailsby much better. If I was to give you a history of all my trans actions during the five-and-thirty years I (lid business in Argyll Street I should be furnish ing you with the materials for five-and-thirty five-act plays and as many three-volume novels, and all I told you would be true, whereas the plays and novels are all fudge: I had but two clerks all this time; one was (leaf and dumb— he attended to the indoor business, and was a capital fellow to keep secretd; the other looked after the outdoor work—he drank con siderably, but was wonderfully clever at mak ing inquiries, serving writs, and hunting out gentlemen who were out of the way. Until my troubles came upon me I always thought it a very mean and shabby thing for a gentle. man to avoid a person to whom he owed money, Well, as you.know very well, I made a good thing of the money-lending business. I was always the plaintiff and plaintiff's attorney too, and saved a lot of money every year by mak ing out my own bills of costs. I made much, much money. [Here Hammer Nailsby ut tered that which was something between a sigh and a groan, but more closely resembled dgrunt than either.] I must have been worth at one time near seventy thousand pounds, and now, with all my sharpness, I haven't a penny. I came to know the peerage, the baronetage, the Army List, the Court Guide, the Law List, and the Clerical Directory by heart. I only did business with Swells, and it was mostly in those books that I found the swells suitable for my purpose. I never advertised In the papers for custom not I. I never employed runners or sharpers to bring flies to my web. I had only to sit in my back office from ten to four every day, and the flies would come tumbling in quickly enough of their own accord. There were always two or three broughams standing at Hammer Nailsby's door. I've made the proudest duke in England wait three-quarters of an hour in my front office, not because I was engaged, but I wanted to take his Grace's pride down a peg or two. Duchesses, coun tesses, ladies—l've bad "em by dozens, with their diamonds in their reticules, begging and praying me to let them have a hundred-pound note. Members of Parliament and colonels in the army, country rectors and University dons, dandies, Guardsmen, barristers, popular preachers, owners of race-horses, and mana gers of theatres, every body who had a posi tion; or a title, or a name, came to Hammer Nailsby. I never troubled myself about trades men and clubs, and such like tag-rag and bob tail. Ten years ago I was a very wealthy man. I had a splendid balance at my banker's. The house I lived in was my own. • I had an estate in Suffolk, close to the very house where my father had lent money to the farmers. I gave seven-and-twenty thousand for this land, and the house upon it, and I promise you that the son of the great squire, Sir Percival Hightborn, who had now come into the title, was civil enough to plain Hammer Nailaby. There had always been a little business account open be tween the Baronet and myself. I was a bachelor, and I enjoyed myself out of business hours. I betted a little, and gen erally won. l'played cards a good deal, and always won. I gave very nice little dinner parties ; and woe betide my lord Marquis, or the right honorable Baronet, and the noble Captain, if they pleaded other engagements, or tailed to come up in time, when Hammer Nailsby invited them to put their legs under his mahogiiny. You've I dined in Argill Street many a time, Sir Firebrace .Mon treser. Do you remember 'my thirty-four port ? do you remember my eighteen-hun- Alred-and-eleven cognac Y It was oil. And my charming Moet ? and my East India Ma deira y I wasn't a stingy host. I always gave you a good skinful when you came to Argyll Street. , It was a woman, gentlemen, that was my undoing. They've been getting us into trou ble ever since the time of Adam and Eve and the apple ; and it was my fate, at last, to find out how much common-sense there was in my old mother's advice, never to have any thing to do with women either in the way of marriage or of money. It happened, ten years ago, as I say; that one of the swell par ties with whom I was brought Into husiness contact was a Captain 31ilbray, of the Life Guards. Ile was a fine, handsome young fel low about six feet high, and with a big pair of mustaches. Many a time I've seen him in St. James's Street, on a drawing-room day, ogling the women, and admired, I dare say, by them ; and I've thought to myself " That big black horse with the beautiful saddle-cloth you're riding, my tine fellow—that shining helmet and breast-plate—that sash of silk and velvet—ay, down to your jack-boots, all be long, body and bone, to Hammer Nailsby." He did belong to me, root and branch, and I had thousands out of him. He had been a ward in Chancery ; but I had lent him money before be came of age ; and, so soon as ever he was twenty-one, I made him pay up, prin cipal and interest. And then, of course, I lent him more money,. and more. Ho had very soon run through the estate his father had left him, which did not amount to more than five thousand a year ; but all his connec tions were very rich. He was next heir but ono to a peerage, and had vast expectations from a rich old aunt. I was foolish enough to let him owe me, and on his own personal se curity alone, no leas a sum than seven thous and pounds. Captain Milbray was not married ; but, like many other officers and gentlemen in the Life Guards—and the Foot Guards, tod,'lor the matter of that—had a dainty little establish ment at Bt. John's Wood, which cost him a mint of money ; and there was a dainty little WEDNESDAY MORN lady, who was called the Honorable Mrs. Riv ers, and was, I believe, no more Honorable, and no more Mrs. Rivers, than my deaf-and dumb clerk. A worthless, vindictive, treach erous, deceitful cat I Ugh I I should like to have her throat In my grip, with her long, fair hair, and her big gray eyes that were always beaming with some infernal mischief or other. This creature had managed to get rid of a pretty slice of the seven thousand pounds which Captain Milbray had, and, If the truth were known, of a good•many more thousands to boot. She was the most extravagant little devil you could possibly conceive. Silks, sat ins, velvets, Brussels and point lace ; horses, carriages; French poodles, and Skye terriers; powdered footmen and ladies' maids in ring lets ; Champabme suppers and maraschino breakfasts ; trips to Richmond, Greenwich, Brighton and Paris ; etas. at the play, and boxes at the operft,—that Was the way in which Captain Milbrny's money went : or rather, it was my money which was thrown to the dogs at South Bank, St. John's Wood. The young scamp had solemnly promised me that he would never bet ; but six months before I ceased to do business with him, I discovered that he had won six thousand pounds on the Derby and lost nine on the St. Leger. The oddest thing about the Honorable Mrs. Rivers was, that although she was as wasteful as could be, and would have spent every shil ling of lililbray's, so long as he had a shilling to give her, site was passionately fond of him. I believe that she loved Horace Milbray with her whole heart and her whole soul. She was never happy but when in his company, and, questionable as her career had formerly been, she MIS certainly faithful to him. Well, one fine morning the young spark's rich old aunt took it into her head to die. In due course they buried her, and her will was read, and the result of the perusal of that precious docu ment was that poor old Hammer Nailsby found that lie had been 'robbed—infamously robbed and swindled of his hard-earned capital and interest. If ever I ¶rust a man again on the strength of his expectations under his aunt's will, may I be broiled on a gridiron, that's all I was, of course, utterly astonished at this coming to au end of all the fine prospects of Captain Horace Milbray. My measures were soon taken. "I'll have those fine jack-boots and buckskins off your legs in no time, my fine jackanapes," I said to myself, and I did. I made the Captain sell his commission to be gin with ; but he was deeply in debt to his brother officers and his agents. They had to be settled with before I could touch the pro ceeds, and I barely realized two thousand pounds out of the sale of his captaincy. Then, of course, I sold up the dainty little establish ment at St. John's Wood ; sent the powdered footmen packing, and the ladies' maids with their curls to keep them company, and seized all madam's diamonds, and a good many of her silk and velvet dresses into the bargain. But, for all this, the Captain was still a good three or four thousand pounds' on the wrong side of the ledger with Inc. Of course, I had him served with no end of writs, and got judg ment and execution against him, thinking, perhaps, that his aristocratic relatives would come forward and pay what he owed. But not a single penny would they advance. At last—his aunt had been 'dead at least three weeks—l lost all patience, and going to one evening to the furnished lodgings which he had taken for Mrs. Rivers, in Berkley Street, Portman Square, I told hint plainly that if 'he didn't have a check for a thousand ready for me by the next day at noon, I'd give instruc tions to the Sheriff's officers, and lock him up. I knew very well that he could no more raise 'a thousand pounds than a thousand pence by the time specified ; but I still thought that if I once got him safe under lock and key, his swell friends and relatives would at last come forward and help him out of his difficulties. ,Would you believe it, that no sooner had I delivered—civilly enough, under the circum stances—the message I had for hiffi, than the Honorable Mrs. Elvers, with her yellow hair all streaming over her shoulders, and her big, gray eyes bathed in tear's, flings herself plump down on her knees on the carpet at my feet. " Spare him, Mr. Nailsby, spare him I" she said. "Do not consign the man I love—the only man I have ever loved, to a jail." " Stuff and nonsense, ma'am," I answered. " Get up, and don't make a scene. The Cap tain ain't a bail of goods, is he, that I can con sign hint to a jail or any where else? I mean simply to lock him up unless he pays me the money down he owes me ; and all the crying and whimpering in the world won't answer my purpose." "Get up, Lizzie," says Milbray to Mrs. Rivers ; and lie lifts her. up' and kisses her. Then, turning to me, he adds, with his cursed proud air, " Send any body you like here, Mr. Nailsby, to-morrow, but if you'll on't go about your business now I'll kick you down stairs." . . I did go about my business then ; but I locked him up at two o'clock the next day most punctually. And what good, you may ask, did I do myself by locking the Captain up Y Well, I acted for the best—that is to say, what I considered to be for my own particu lar good ; but, in this case, I'm bound to-on•n that I didn't particularly serve my'self by ar resting Captain Milbray. Ile couldn't pay, for the very good reason that he hadn't any more money left. I think that I and the Hon orable Mrs. Rivers, between us, had had most of the cash that the captain bad once pos sessed. He had - still a good many rich rela tives, as you know, I dare say, Sir Firebmce ; but they'd all had enough of lending the Cap tain money, and wouldn't come forward with another penny. The long and the short of it was that the gallant officer, as the penny-a-liners' say—al though I should feel more inclined to say the confounded swindling adventurer—went through the Insolvent Debtors' Court, and ne ver paid me a penny. Re went to Boulogne, and turned billiard-marker, as I'm told; and then he took to drinking brandy, and then he died, as a good many gallant officers in dif ficulties have died before,him. My story ought to end here ; but there's a last act to come, and that's the worst of them all. There was somebody else who didn't die. Bile's alive now, and it's at her suit that• I'm locked up at Rattenbttry's. I told you that the honorable Captain Mllbray, did absolute ly love and adore the very ground the Captain walked upon. I've been told since that when I caused him to be arrested, she went down on her knees again—but it wasn't to me this time—and swore a great oath that she'd be revenged on me for what I'd done ; and she was revenged. You know little of the strength of a woman's bitter purpose when she's set her mind to It. Alter Mllbray's death she had to live by her wits again ; but she was still very pretty—the jade';—and played her cards well She was actually clever enough to marry Jack Yanderpant, the great betting-man — race-horse owner, gambling-house keeper, diamond mer chant, and bill discounter. Jack died after NG, FEBRUARY 23, 186 about two years, and left her a wealthy wid ow, but Pm hanged if the artful eat didn't carry on the b !" She had the impudence to set herself up as a rival to hammer IsTailsby and, in the end, she bent me. She wormed bonen' into all: my secrets; she decoyed me into unlucky speculations ; she spirited my best customers away from me ; she planted bad ones on me ; she bought up my securities; in the end, she ruined me—for all my clever ness, for all my cunning, for all my long ex perience—ruined me, root and branch, and brought me here And to think that I should be beggared, and at last, flung into jail, all through the vin dictive persistence of one revengeful little wo man 1 What harm had I done ? I'd only asked Captain Milbray for my own, and took him in execution purely in the way of business. But there's no gratitude left in this world NANNIE ANSAR'S STORY =1 Somebody came out of the barn, when I went by With my milking pails, and caught me bout the waist and kissed me. "Fy ! for shame !" said I; "and all the world looking, likely. What will they say of me?" "Oh," says he, "who minds what they think ? They can only say George Gillot loves Nannie Ansar enough to kiss her, and if they could say that Nannic Ansnr loved me as well—" But there a sharp voice broke in upon us. " Nannie ! Nnnnie ! I want you to be in a hurry !" and out of the house came• Miss Tad& the as though a whirlwind blew her. Away went George Gillot to his hay, and there I stood before Miss Tabby Gillot, and she put out her gaunt, brown hand and clutched my shoulder tight, and says she : "Mamie Ansar, I saw my nephew kid's you —has he done it before P" "Once or twice, Miss Tabby." Ile's a very bad young man, then," said Miss Tabby. " Bad ?" says I. " Oh, no, Miss Tabby—a better never walked." " Poor, foolish child," says she. " Don't you know he is a rich farmer and you are a servant ?" "I do, Miss," said I, "and all the kinder of him to like me so." "To like you !" saya•shc. " Well, you arc an innocent bit of a girl, I believe, and I'll give you a hint. It is far from liking; its nearer hating, when a man makes love to a girl he'd be too proud to marry. George Gillot is going to make Rose Gifford his wife. As for you--" "Engaged to Miss Gifford !" said I, and my voice was not my own as I heard it. "Then why does he kiss other folks ?" " Because he thinks them fools," said Miss Tabby, and then she walked away, and all my blood seemed turned to gall and there was no such bitter woman under the sky as I.— Though why - I should hate rmor Miss Rose Gifford, Instead of George Gillot, no one could tell, though a woman might feel why. One thing I knew right well—l could not stay there. And so that night I went to Miss Tabby : "I must leave you, ma'am," said I ; going to the city to live." And she paid me . my wages without a word, and that night I was off in the train for New York. I learnt a trade in the city and worked at it, but amidst all the stitching I kept think ing of George Gillot. Was he married yet ? and had she made him happy—that silly girl at whom I had heard him laugh so often ?and did lie know how well I loved him ? and how, poor girl that I was, I had twice the truth in me that she had, for I knew her well. Per haps I grew graver than I used to be, and paler. You may live all your life without love, I suppose, as a blind man born does without sight, and never miss it ; but to lose it after it has once been yours, is a bitter thing, the bitterest we have to bear, I think, and you know /believed George Gillet loved me. The trade I worked at was the binding of hats, and the hatter was an old bachelor, quiet and fat, but good-natured and not, ns I could judge, past forty-five. It wasn't long before I knew he liked me, nor long before the other girls fell to plaguing me about him. At first I used to shriitk from the thought, but I was lonely and he was kind. Not ugly, either, with his firm red and white skin and honest blue eyes ; and something as a daughter feels I felt for hlin,'afteihwhile ; and thou it seemed worth while to spend one's life making a good man's hodse brighter and happier. And at last, when he took me by the band one day, in no more romantic place than the hatter's shop, and said :. " Nannie, if you'll be my wife you never shall repent it." I just said—"l don't believe I ever should, Mr. Wharton." And that was all eitlier of us said about it. • I cried a little, in my own room, that night, and I took George GiHot's little presents a ring and a locket and a red-bound hymn-book, with my name on it, from my trunk and burnt thent up. Why I had kept them so long I could not tell. • And then I sat down and thought. 'This was not just what I had dreamt of. Long ago, when I was a child and had a happy home, my nurse used to tell me of a fairy prince, who came over the sea to marry ayoung princess, and I used to think that, some day, such a prince would come for me ;—and this good man, with his double chip and kind blue eyes, was not a fairy prince, by any means.— And afterward, when death took my parents and nothing was left for the little orphan but to work for her daily bread, and gaunt Miss Tabby took me into her kitchen, there was George Gillot, so handsome, so winning, seem ing to love me so—and—and—and this was not George GRUA either ; but oh I a better man-ronly a woman's heart is such a foolish thing that she finds it hard to rule it.' Well, after that night, I tried to be happy ; and he said to me—Mr. Wharton, I mean—: ' Let us be married very soon, my dear.' And I gave him his way. We were to meet at the minister's one morning, and there be married. Kate May would go with Inc, and Dr. Jaliap, the apothecary, with Mr. Wharton ; and then he would take me home ; and I meant —God knows—to make that home as happy as a woman might. I bought no great finery for my wedding'7-- only a pearl-gray silk and a white bonnet ; and I looked, Kate told mc, more like a Quakeress than a bride, they were so plain and quiet. We got there first—to the minister's, I mean ; and I was sitting alone in the parlor— for Kate had gone with the minister's wife, who had been her Sunday-school teacher—to see her new baby, when the door opened, and in walked a tall, fair-haired man—looked at me, and stood still, with his °yeti on my face. I looked at him. and my heart seemed to stop beating. It was George Gillet I Only that I could not move, I would have run away. It was so terrible to see him there Just then !so altered, too. Ile was thin, and wan, and stooped a little—he who had been as straight as an arrow—and deep, deep in his eyes, I saw a look I never thought to see there —a yearning, longing look, as though that which he pined for was always far away from him. He drew his breath with a little shiver, and then lie came toward me, and said : 'lt is Nannie Ausar !' I said: ' Yes.' —And :' I hope I see you well, sir 4' That, with my heart' throbbing agaih as though it would kill me I But women learn to do these things:—the poorest and most ig norant women cap hide their heart-secrets, if they will, God he thanked for it 1 ' My aunt is dead,' he said, after n pause ; 'she died two years ago. I live in the city now. I have had losses, and bad health, and the farm is mine no longer. I did not know you ever came here, and I know them so well V I never came before,' I said. I ant here to-day to be married.' And I was glad to say It, for it would show hint I was heart-free of hint at last. But he turned a glance on me that made me start. ' I thought you married five yetirs ago,' he said. Not I,' I said ; hut it's longer than that since you were, I've no doubt 'lr he said. The thought has never been in my mind—one woman turned me against the rest of her sex. The woman who jilted nw, with all her sidiple ways, as - coolly as the finest belle could.' 'I grieve you've had so bad a sample of us, sir,' I said ; not that:l ever thought Miss lime Gifford one to he constant long.' Hose Gifford ?' he cried ;--' eh, you act well, Nannie Ansar ! You know it was you who left me in the lurch, after as touch as telling me you loved me. It's only right you should hear it on your wedding-day—you who have poisoned life for me !' I gave a little scream. We looked nt each other ; and the truth came to both of us. Yon were not engaged to Rose Gifford?' said I. I never wanted any woman for a wife, but you,' he said. 'l' ye pined for you these long, long years. And she did this, my Aunt Tn bitha. She always wanted me to marry Rose —curse—' 'Hush !' I cried ; not curse her—she is dead.'' And Lc soldnid. . Oh, my GoO, how I have loved you And now I have met. !pm, and have learned the truth too late.' And hmknelt down at my feet. And all my pride and strength left Inc. Had I died for it, I must have done what I did. I bent over him and kissed his pale, broad fore head, and his dropped eyelids, and the checks over which hot tears stole ; and I said : . I have plighted my troth to a good man, who loves me, and I cannot break it. I must be his wife ; but I have never loved any man but you, George Gillot, and I nevorshall—oh, Heaven help me I I never shall.' Oh, was it wicked to say so I . Was it wicked to kiss hint 1 To this day, Ido not know. I lifted up my head utter those kisses, and saw through the window a carriage at the door, and by bridegroom in it. He caught my face at the pane and kissed his hand to me —ono foot was on the step of the coach that moment ; the next, there came ,a clatter of horses feet, a whir of wheels, shrieks from the people in the street, nothing where the carriage had stood an instant before, and all the crowd rushing in one direction. * * * I knew nothing more until the women stood about me and told me, with pitiful voices and streaming eyes, that my bridegroom was dead ! He had uttered lint one word alter they picked him up—that word was, Nannie Well, Heaven knows I was remorseful and that I wept for nil and had meant to be a true wife to him, and it was long before I would listen for any word of comfort. But the heart, will have its way ; and my love and I had both ,suffered so, and I could not always be cruel to to hint and to myself—and to-day I am George Gillot's happy wife,!—N. Y. Ledger. ME MANAU EMEN7' PAIL!! MANURE. Tun composition of farin-yard manure is ex ceedingly complex, and varies to a degree sel dom fully appreciated. The mode of farming, the class of stock kept on the land, their sup plies of food, and the careful preservation of the manure, each and all give to the composi tion of this manure a marvellous variety. This influence becomes the more striking when we remember that a toll of good farm-yard ma nure eontains only about bairn hundred-weight of pure fertilizing ingredients. It Is true that the farmer is dealing with a ton of manure, but any injury or loss of quality strikes at the value of the half hundred-weight of fertilizing matter, which is the vital constituent of the manure, and that by which its value is practi cally determined. The value of this half hundred4eight of fertilizing is Worth more than the price we usually assign even to good manure, and tile materials could not be pur chased at the same cost. The lesson which this fact is calculated to teach us is not to undervalue the farm-yard manure because it is a bulky representative of so small a quanti ty of fertilizing matter, but to guard it more jealously, and to improve it more carefully, since its valuable constituents are so easily de creased. There are various ways by which the vital ity of such manure may be removed; but the improved management of late years has done much to reduce these losses. The two most productive sources of loss are the injudicious rotting down of the dung-heap and the waste of the liquid running from the heap. Each of these losses may be readily controlled ; the latter, of course, is evident, and may be read ily avoided, but the former demands special care and attention. In some districts, very great care is bestowed upon making the dung heap and in Its general management. A bot tom of road-scrapings, or similar waste, forms the first layer, and upon this the manna is heaped and pressed down by the carts going over the heap, and finally it is thrown into shape, some earth put against the sides for a certain depth, and a further quantity sprinkled on the top. A heap thus constructed, if it can be kept sufficiently moist to regulate the fer mentation, and yet not so moist us to cause drainage, is In as good a condition for the rot ting of the manure as it well can be Ina heap. Now, young people,' said a professorof natural history to his class, 'now, then, as to hens. A hen has the capacity of laying just 600 eggs, and no more, and she finishes the job In Just about five years. Now what is to be done with her after that ?' Cut off her head and sell her to a boarding-house keeper for a spring chicken exclaimed an urchin whose father dealt in poultry. WILLS & IREDRLTs Pahl nub Sancp sott Winters, No. 47 EAST HAMILTON STHEET, crirrAnts, ALtENTOws, r A =EM LATEST STYLES Stamped Cheeky Curdy, Circulars Paper Book's Conan tattoos and School Catslunacy, Bill H eady, H Envelopes, otter Heady, 11111 n of Lading, Way, Bill, Tans and Shipping Cards, Polite. of any Mae, etc., etc., refuted at Short Notice. NO. 8 HOUSEHOLD RECIPES MERINGUE t'UDDING.—A correspondent in the Germantown Telegraph gives the follow ing :—Ono quart of milk, two tablespoonsful corn starch, the yolks of three eggs, beaten, one cup white sugar, five drops of the extract of almond. Stir it on the stove until it comes to a simmer,' then put it on a fiat dish, for teu minutes, in the oven. Beat the whites of the three eggs with sugar and put it on the top of the pudding and set it in the oven a few minutes to brown. INDIAN POUND CAKE.—Three-fourths of a pound of white Indian meal, sifted, quarter of pound of wheat flour, and roll ono pound white sugar into It and half a pound of butter ; seasoned (with nutmeg and rose bandy, and add four eggs, beaten light. Mix and bake as other pound cake. TROY PunplNo.—Threo cups sifted flour, one cup milk, one of suet rubbed ill : , the flour dry, one cup molasses, two cups of raisins or currants, half a nutmeg, half teasixsanful of cloves, one of cinnamon, a little salt. Boil three hours. SNOW, PtDDINO.—Take one-third of a box of gelatine, and pour over It half a cup of cold water to dissolve ; let it stand a few minutes, then add half a pint of boiling water, juice of a large lemon or two small ones, one and a half cups powdered sugar, whites of two eggs ; beat all together three-fourths of an hour; mould it in a cool place. Eat it with soft custard made of the yolks and a pint of milk flavored with vanilla. DELIORTFIMPUDDINO.—One quart of boiled milk, quarter of a pound mashed potatoes, a small piece of butter, and when cold add three eggs, well beaten. Bake half an hour and eat with.sauce. Dnor COCOANUT JU3IBIX..9.—One cocoa nut, grated, two cups sugar, one of butter, three-fourths of n cup of cream, two table spoonfsul of flour, and the whites of four eggs. GINOER POUND CAKE.—One tea cup of but ter, one of sugar, • one of molasses, three of flour, three eggs, one teaspoonful of Tearlasli, two tablespoonsful of ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg. WABIIINOTON CAKE. Three•fourtle of a pound of butter, one pound sugar, one and a half pounds of flour, four eggs beaten light, one cup of cream or milk, one teaspoonful of soda, two of cream of tartar, one nutmeg, one glass of brandy and rose water, two pounds of raisins. CONUNDRUMS What is the difference between an engine driver and a schoolmaster Y Ans.—One minds the train, and the other trains the mind. Why is a thief like a ticket porter'? Ans. —He is in the habit of taking other people's property. Why is a blind man like a water-pipe ? Ans.—Jle is generally led (lead.) . When is a man like a tea-kettle just on the boil? Ans.—When he is going to sing. Why is a key like an hospital ? Ans.— Because it is full of cards. Why is your pretty cousin like an alabaS ter vase Y—Because she is an objet de looks. A SocKuoi.ounu.—Some years ago, an old sign-painter, who was very cross, very gruff, and a little deaf, was engaged to paint the Ten Commandments on a tablet in a church. He worked two days at it, and at the close of the second day, the pastor of the church called in to see how the worked progressed. The old man stood by, smoking an old pipC, as the reverend gentleman ran his eye over the tab lets. "Eh I" said the 'pastor, as his familiar eye detected something wrong in the wording of the holy precepts ; " why, you careless old person, you have left sonic of the command ments entirely out—don't you see ?" "No— no such thing," said the old man putting on his spectacles ; " no, nothing left out—where ?" " Why, there," persisted the pastor ; " here, look at them in the bible—you have left out some ,if the commandments." " Well, what if I have ?" said Obstinacy, as he ran his eye complacently over his work; " what if I have ? There's a comfounded more there now than you'll keep?" Another.artist was employed there, next day. Some years ago a gentleman died. Ilia widow inherited his property and collected the insurance on his life, and very soon enlarged, repaired, and• fitted up tier residence in quite a luxurious style. A friend calling expressed some little Surprise that she made these nice arrangements so 50011 after the death of Mr. Why should I not do it ?' replied' the practical relict. '' My husband, good man, is enjoying a , glorious mansion in the skies ; and of course he r xeishes me to be as comfortable as possible here on earth.! 'Who says that woman's faith is not shown by her work ? "Father, I think you told a fib in the pulpit to-day," said a little son ora clergyman. " Why, what do you mean ?" "You said, 'one word more and I have done.' Then you went on and said a great many more words. The people expected you'd leave off, 'cause you'd promised them. But you didn't, and kept on preaching a long while after the time was up." —" What is your consolation in life and death 4" asked the clergyman of a young miss in a bible class that he was catechising. The young lady blushed and hesitated. "Will you not tell me ?" urged the clergyman. " I don't want to tell his name," said the ingeniousgirl ; " but I've no objection to telling you where he lives."' —An Irishman was directed by a lady of large size to secure and psi for two seats in a stage-Coach, as she wanted comfortable room in riding. The fellow returned and said:— 'l've paid for the two seats you towld me to ; but as I couldn't get but one for the inside of the coach, I took the t'other for the outside.' A BADLY bunged-up Emerald Islander, in response to the inquiry, " Where have you been ?" said " Down to Mrs. Mulrooney's wake, and an illegant time we had of it.— Fourteen fights in fifteen minutes; only one whose nose left in the house, and that belongs to the tay kettle I" —A physician writes to a New York paper that Americans are too quiet at their meals, and adds that "it is a well established fact that cheerfnl society atmeals greatly aids di gestion. The sympathetic influence which exists between the stomach and brain attests the truth of the assertion." —A Frenchwoman once said that she never loved anything. You love your children V suggested a friend. ' When they were little.' And you love diamonds When they arc large,' she replied. —Said a youngstei, in high gleC, displaying his purchase .to a bosom friend on the side walk: Two cocoanuts for ten cents 1 that'll make me sick to-morrow, and I want have to go to school.' —The last resort—a graveyard. It EN DISSIONS,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers