n OF CE OF THE WAR:, BALtililolti STREET, FIVE .DOORS WORTH Ul TEE POST OFFICE,GrETTYSBORgi, PA. ADVERTISEMENTS Colaspleueusly inserted FOUR times for OMR DOLLAR per iquare--over four times, styr.nrry-rive ONNTM per square will be charged. Printed and Published, at GF.TryanuaG, PA., •BY ROBERT W. lIIIDDIXTON. POETRY. "With after:Psi flowers cnrich'd From various gardrns cull'd Mith cart." From the Boston Advosate. the annexed is the kftern id or a wirE whose hus. baritt is at sea, and she in prison for &debt which she can neither pay, nor prove her marriage— and more, has no funds wherewith to feu a law yer to obtain her release. . THE WIFE'S LA ,lENT. Shine on, fair star—thy ray to rim, May shine forever, and in vain; Shadows thy hriglit,lirry,riorious reign, The pang of ill—of destiny— Away—beyond the sparkling sea, Journeys my loved, my Only one, --And lam cast, sweet one, from thee, . To grope this cell, unblessed, alone! • This cell; hut thou, in dreams, art near, When fancy breaks this grated wall, And I remember scenes once dear, hen night spreads round her murky pall. us home—my rest--my grave I never soil'd by reckless crime; . Pure, as the ocean's purest wave, • Believe I am, where'er thy clime. . . I sing, dear ono, thy faVor'd sling, When eve her mellow twilight sprawls-- Am happy, though the rich one's wrong, Hangs heavy o'er our injured heads. Hut when, in other days, the turf Shill bloom and fade whore, still, I lie Close to the murmur of Yon surr, Then sleep beside me, when you die. This cell—these bars—forget them then, But still remember all our Ere came the blasting ills of men, To crush us, up to happiness. My song is done—the swan's last lay, Tlus dying note of her, once thine, And as it flows to Heaven away, , its tone is thine, and thou art mine. "PIEE REPOSITORY. 4 Tllk'Tii 7- 0 SISTERS: A SKETCII---BY KOTZEBUY.. In a large city in Germany dwelt two sis tors, .Teannette and Pauline. Jeannette had the good fortune to be very handsome, and the bad fortune - to find it out very soon.— She soon accustomed herself-to look in the glass—that was natural; she soon took pains in dressing—that was pardonable; she en deavored to acquire accomplishments—that was prudent; but she thought nothing more was- . ..-mosesary—that was foolish. True, she Played well on the harpsichord, and sung bravura airs with taste; she drew landscapes after Heckert, and embroidered flower's from. nature. Bat she only played' the harpsi chord in great companies, and only sung airs tit concerts; she only drew landscapes far exhibition, and embroidered flowers for sofas and screens. Ai how,- time passed tediously, although her old weak mother was continually praising her beauty.. This, old truth could only give pleasure by pouring from now lips;"' hence Jeannette was - main; tiallv'seeking new society. Ladies always practice a certain oconoin'y in the praise of other ladies; but gentlemen, on the contra ry, are generally very lavish of praise; and therefore Jeannette was fond of the society a. g entlerhen. • Her • sister Pauline wield probably ,have Thought and acted in the same manner; but no ono praised the poor girl, simply because • no one noticed her, for the small-pox had rendered her appearaneeliomely. She was alSo far behind her sister. in showy accom plishments. Slal played the guitar and sung --ogreeably-onerely-sithple-little- songs. She Was not behind Jeannette in the art of draw ing; but, except a few landscapes which-hung in her-mother's chamber, which-no one but her thother saw, no one knew of her talent; for the homely Pauline was as diffident as the fascinating Jeannette was unembarras 7 „, sed; and it only required a second lOok from Ray one to cause_lier blush deeply. Fortu nately this did not often- happen, for no one looked at her twice: She embroidered as [Oiler sister, but only upon work bags for aunts and grandmothers; She appear. ed best at hotnoin company the consci ousness of her homeliness gave her an air of constraint; but at Immo- affairs could not • go on without her. - When the - girls they urc their mother thought proper that they should take charge 'of the house, each one by turns, week about. Pauline soon became accustomed. to it, and ;ti t her week all things went on right. When .teannette's turn came, she hurried about busily the whole forenoon, but when noon came the dinner was spoiled. She grieved also at the, time she lost from hal- singing and harpsichord, and at the little time which Was Jeft` - her to arrange her heal dress for her evening parties. The good-hearted Pauline frequently took her task offher hands rtntil finally the practice was neglected or Yelievingoach other weekly, and Jeannette troubled herself no more about domestic af fairs,' The weltk ''mother td not interfere, . for; she could not be displease - d with the4o 4 ?-e-,, ly-face which pleased every body. There' could be no large party unless „Jeannette • Western graced it; her name served the .ponts for a subject, and was the nniversa - T • Stott, Few only that - ehe,• had it • • _ . - mister. •• . • - • • • • . TnrP young oflionro„Bdivard and Maurice . Ml,W•Tetumetto-tuni both b i eCante nittrernitly ituunored.. Both were OfgeOsi &idly, brave • • • . • • , • . . . . r , , J . , . . . , . . . : ) , . , .91r 1 . ... : . . 1.4 ! . , , ~ - DUCIT AMOR P ATRIA? PROD ESSE CIVI B US-" THE: LOVE OP MY COUNTRY LEADS ME TO BE OF ADVANTAiiE TO MY FELLOW,CITIZENS." • noble, and both very rich. Jeannette was delighted with her conquest, and her moth er, who was in moderate circumstances, in dulged herself in sweet dreams of futnre. - "If both should be in earnest?" said she to her daughter, "which will you prefer?" "I don't know - myself;"-answered - Jeannette, "they both please me, but I shall like the richest one the best. Then I shokild take care of you mother, in your old age, and I would have my sister to manage my house for me." The doating pareet wept for joy at the filial sentiments of her-daughter, and Pauline was grateful for such a mark of sis terly affection. Iu the mean time both of the young men wooed earnestly for the beau ty's favor; and both wore equally kind to the homely Pauline, because she gave them the pleasure of being alone with her sister. Jean nette was really in embarrassmeitt which o her adorers to prefer. EilArd gin a, ball, at which she was queen, aiaT she , thOught on that evening-- she was irk a fair way to love Edward. Maurice gave a sleigh-ride, and she flew along the street in a splendid equip age, and on that day she thought Maurice rnore.amjahle than his rival. So she delay ed VI. ildeision from one day to another, at tributing her hesitation to her heart. "If I were in your place,", said Pauline one day; "I should tab Edward." "Why?—Maurice is as rich, and you will acknowledge he is handsomer." "lie is generous too," replied the mother. "But he is fickle," replied Pauline. "Our aunt has told me a good many things about him." "Our aunt;" answetdd Jeannette snappish ly, "is an old aunt." "Edward, on the other liana," continued Pauline, "is more steady; and I think I have often remarked, that he feels more deeply and more sincerely than Maurice." - "Pshaw !" said Jeannette, tossing her Bead while she stuck . a flower in her-hair before the glass, "They both feel so deeply that I hardly know how to manage them. Meanwhile, what harm will there be. in de laying my choice awhile? Their rivalry makes my tune pass very pleasanly, and fi nally- accideyi will decide." Pauline was silent. Both suitors continued their atten tions without remission. One day as Edward entered the room, ho found Pauline 'in' tea Wind Jeannette laugh ing loudly. He as modestly the cause of the tears and the Altighter. "I am a child" said Pauline blushing, and 'ell the chamber. "A child indeed," said Jeannette, laughing after her; "you would never guess what she was crying for." "if it is not improper to ask"— "Oh not at all.. You have probably some times remarked the old blind dog that used to lie on the sofa? r He was mine, and in his young days used to make a good deal of sport. This morning he broke a handsome dish. At first I fretted a little; at last_J thought the. old blind animal was good for nothing, and only did mischiefl•so sent hitii to a huntsman and had him shot." "And that was the cause:of your sister's weeping'?" "That was it. One would think we were living in the times of romance." Edward was silent, and soon changed the conversation. But after that time he never overlooked Pauline as he had Formerly done. He conversed sometimes with her, became acquainted with. her unpretending -worth, admired her modesty, and began to .think her appearance less homely,' Yet when the ascitialing jeannette appeared, hor charms made him forget Pauline. • , Jeannette had prepared a splendid mas querade dress for the• character of a Sultana for the carnival Which was approaching, when her mother was taken sick. Pauline was to have accompanied her as her slave, and had prepared a becoming dresi for the occasion.' - Thu day arrived; the illness of the - mother had increased; the looks•of the physician, although he said nothing, made Pauline determine not to go to the masque. rade. • Jeannette give herself but little trou ble to persuatie her to go, and went without her. "Where is your sisterf" Asked Edward. , "My mother is not well, and Pauline has remained at home for company." He was pleased at that; but he had littleirme to think of it, for Jeannette appeared more beautiful than ever, and neither he nor Mau rice left her side. She enjoyed the triumph of being admired in the highest degree.— Whenever she danced, a crowd was formed :around her; wherevei she 'went, she heard the voice of flattery. Towards midnight, just as she had prom ised to dance a quadrille with. Edward, 'a domine came up and took off his mask; it was her mother's physician. "Miss," said he, "I have just come from your houge, arid I dare not conceal from you that your mo ther is very ill:" to . "Good Heavens l'llefexclaiined,terrifled arid perplexed, "I mustgolOmement.". • "By all' means," said fEtliva * rd, "let us t.; go."k • . . . • .• Just then the mtisic cm-minced. Jean nette,fOoked; round embarssed; Edward offered his services to look fir her servant. She was.just at the point oftequestin him tQ dolep, when one of the &miffs in the set took-hat hand and ceffirfteiled :the fi guil• SW obeyed mechanically, b to_ la- VritnZLCUID.A.T9 E.LICLE 00020S1 dy standing next to her, "I cannot dance any longer, my mother's sick." "0, do not rob us of the ornament of our quadrille," said a young rich Englishman--"A few minutes can make no ditference.". She looked at Edward as if she wished him to decide for her; but he was silent. It was now his turn to dance... The person next him jogged him=he cast an Inquiring look at Jean- nette; his neighbor reminded him again— Jeannette did not refuse, and so he danFed the figure with her, and the quadrille was finished without any thing more being said. She would then' have goner, but she was so heated that she would have taken cold, by going into the air. After walking up and down an adjoining room for some time, sho went home, and Edward accompanied her. As they went up the step they saw tire in the kitchen, - Where Pauline was at the fire place, preparing something for her mother. Her countenance, reddened by the glow of the fire, appeared handsome, • this time, to Edward. . "It is well you have come," said Pauline to her sister, "mother has been very sick, ' & I have frequently had to leave her alone." Edward felt himself in a singular frame of mind. On this very-evening Jeannette had dropt some hints,which gave him hopes of gaining the victory over his rival. His delight on that account, however, had been very much moderated since the last .qua drille. A film fell from his eves. Ho was able, for the first time, to look upon her beauty without a violent wish to posses her. He would probably have renounced her im mediately, ifianityad not whispered that she would have intadiately left-the ball if she had not been dancing with him; and.that it was he who had made her forget her duty for a momenta. His feelings could not with stand the flattering thought of being belov ed by so beautiful a girl, and all that reason could win of him was a determination to pUt 1 her supposed aflection to the proof. He Wined until her mother recovered, 1 and I hen went•otie day with an air of trouble I in his countenance to 'Jeannette, and inform. ed her that his estate in Suabia had been ravaged by the cnemy, and .that it would take at least a year's rent to put it in its for mer condition. "But," udded he tendeily, "if Jeannette only loves me, my incomewia be sufficient to protect uafrom want." She was visibly shocked, and changed colour as he began his relation. end her end conceal her confusion didlnct . efra himy An anxious pause ensued.: She sc9 hevf ever recovered heecomposurf, laid her hand upon his in a friendly way, and said, "my good friend, I will not deceive you, I am a spoiled child, and cannot do without a great many things. We are neither of us roman , cers. We know that the hottest love will I grow cold in a cottage. That lam well inclined towards you, I will not deny; but we must act reasonably 7 rdmain my friend." This declaratiorrwas a thurst in the heart of Edward; but it was a beneficial operation, —the wound soon healed. He soon after wards repeated the story in presenceof Pau line. She did not look up from her embroi dery, but he remarked that her eyes were moist: "What gives me the most pain from this misfortune," continued he, "is the pov erty of my mother—my good mother. lf I should devote tae whole of my income to her, it will not be Buflicient to provde her the luxuries to which she has en accus tomed; and you know that po rty always depends _upon the different - ants of man kind." Pauline raised her ad and looked at him kin_ She sa' nothing, but her countenance spoke. 'he needle trembled in her hand. She bethought herself, and continued her embroidery. After a pause she asked, as if merely to renew the conver sation, "where doe§ your mother reside?" Edward answered at Stingard,where, in real ity, she was in the highest circle of society. Pauline then spoke of the pleasant situation and advantages of Stutgard, and nothing more_ was said of Edward's misfortune.— For the purfiose of confirmiu what he had said of his losses, he linited his expenditures and sold his fine-horses. ' He continued to lisit the two siste'irs, and the calmness of his feelings`-permitted him-now to see a thous: i l and little things that?had formerly escaped him. None of his observations were of a kind to rekindle his former.love; ork,the oth er hand, Pauline daily appeared more ami able tchinhand her home:iness less striking. As he now conversed moreswith her than with Jeannette, she felt more Confidence to wards. him,, her bashfulness was conquered and-she unfolded herheart. What conduced very much.tn-t,hisi . m;lts the modest supposi- tion, that . Edward could have no thought of -a marriagcwith her; that rernOved'her embarrassment, and she showed her pure, unrestrained, sisterly (action. • Jeannette, on the other hand * .did not' re. ceive much pleaure.from his visits 'which were-especially disagreeable When kaurice was present.. To him she now cOnfiried her whole eoquetry, and soon drew the net so tightly oVerhinn, that he - besouiht tier press ingly every day, to rrndie - him. the most en- viable ,Of mortals, -at the ajtar. •She.still took airs upon herselfsnd teused him for a , .. . whileiand • ut last kilt ingly irivit , her consent. Tile lover ..ivaa delighted excessively, and the mest expensive preparaiieris more 430 . m, inence,tl 'fin- the' nupVials: __ ..' ' ••. 7 ' .. . , Meanwhile'Edward continued very calm. He was no longer in love, but it appeard to him at times as if he loved Pauline. His wish to see her, if he had not seen her for a day or two; the quickness with which time passed in her company; the unwillingness With which he separated from her—all these things often made him think "what if I should offer Pauline my hand?" A surpris ing occurrence suddenly decided for him. He received a letter from his mother, containing a bill of exchange upon Stutgard for one hundred dollars, signed by one of the principal bankers of the place in which Edward resided. "1 cannot comprehend," she wrote , in her letter, "why it should have been sent to me. It was sent in an anony mous letter, in which I am besought, in a few lines, not to despise the gill of a good heart." A flame blazed in Edward's breast. He trembled--his eyes sparkled. He bur. ried to the Banker. "Did you draw this bill of exchange?" "Yes." "For whom?" "-I have been paid the value." "By whom?" "I cannot say." "But the bill of exchange was sent to my mother." "I know nothing of that--it is no business of mine." "I beg you to tell me the person." "I cannot. " "You will probably cause the happiness of my life." The banker looked at him with surprise. "Will you tell me the truth if I wine the person?" "Yes." "Miss Pauline Western." "You have guessed it." Edward hurried out. In two minutes he lay at . Pauline's feet and asked her hand.— She was confused—she could not answer— she sighed. He put his arm around her— "Am disagreeable to you?" She sank upon his breast. "Oh no.- I have long loved you; but how could I hope." The first raptures of love flowed throughtwo no ble hearts. Pauline could not comp ehend how Edward had taken such a sudden - vio lent resolution. She often asked the reason —he smiled but did not ansarer. Her nuptials_ with the, oor Edward were fixed for thesame day, on which Jeannette was to marry the rich Maurice. Pauline made dispositions.for strict frugality in her future doianistirs; her white plain bri ll!' dAss'lign . .tifigted poiverfully with the sil ver lace of her Sister. Edward preised her to his heart and smiled. "To-morrow;" said he, "I 'will inform my mother of the choice 1 have' made, you must also add e: letter." Pauline promised it, not without some embarrassment, and Edward smiled again. On the next day she handed the letter, but showed him at the same time her finger bound up, which had compelled her to get her sister to write the letter. Edward kissed the finger; cast a look of love upon her, and a tear stood in his sparkling eye. She blushed and thought something was not right; but he said "very well," and smiled. The marriage day appeared. Edward came early in the morning and laid a val uable necklace in his bride's lap. Pauline was astonished, but Jeannette was more so, for the necklace was more valuable than her own. "I have been practising usury," , said Edward jestingly, "a little sum, advan ced by a noble lady, a friend of mine, has doubled itselfa thousand fold." "By a no ble lady?" said Pauline. “The necklace is very fine," continued Edward, "but what adorns it the most, and will make me the happiest of men, is concealed in this paper." She opened it confusedly. It was the wed ding ring-folded in the bill of exchange.-- Pauline recognized it at the, first glance, and cast down her eyes bTushing. Edward fell at her feet. She sunk down. "To deceive me so!" whispered she. , When all was explained, Pauliiie's moth er embraced her, while Jeannette tossed her pretty head. She endeavoured to con ceal her vexation; but her marriage day was the commencment of her matrimonial ill humour. Several years past; EdWard found to his astonishment that he had been blind, that his wife was really handsome; and his do mestic happiness increased eisiuy day. Do mestic happiness never — made its home with Jeannette. Pauline was surrounded by bloominechildren. The sifters seldom saw peach other; for Pauline lived only for her husband and children, Jeannette only for the great world. Here she found sufficient a mends for the only true , happiness of mar riage, as long as her beauty daily at tracted new adnr.rers, and , as long as^her husband's riches afforded the means of ex pensive luxuries. But alas! her charms began to vanish- , ---shc3grew sickly----the af fection of her huiband became deadened-- his coffers-were emptie&—poverty introdu ced discord. They avoided one another; ma dam ran in debt—Monsieur gambled away her jewels.. 'l,:they began with complaining i te r & and ended with r • • :ch At length, one morning Mind : •de away, without taking le a ve , , ... , ever heard of afterwards. "• • r and helpless Jeannette was forced to, seek anasylum with her sister. She was kindly 'received, send treated with the most tender forbearance; but her conscience was not at - ease a violent cough enfeebled .her frame; and in er twenty-eightla year no crab° of her fUrmer beauty. remained. Her Mind was soul* and embittered sd that she was rendered unfit for any dembatic: joys.= , - The dervants of the family . trembled bekre here qi; e ne rst ( vvished to:hush the Ida she 41Ftd' only to,eay, "Aunt is coming.”:-- 1 TERMS' , OF T HIS PAPICIII - --riirilieman. per annum—payable haifyearly itradvistee. VG' subacriptiobs takeei for lose than ilimonthe,and none discontinued until all arrearager ace paid 4 unless at the option of ther•Editor—anda, allure to notify a discontinuance will bo considered a new engagement, and tho paper fbrwarded as cordingly. TERMS -;-42 PER ANNUM. VOL/ 1.--NO. 51: The larger children, when at play, Tilley heard her cough at a distance, slippedinto some corner, and whispered to one another "Aunt is coming." From the Newt York Constellation _UPSETTING OF A DANDY, - There is meereature that take* to self more airs than a city dandy—none that pretends to more wit and wisdom, and none" that betrays a greater want of them. One of this class of bipeds, who had eseapedfrora the city a few weeks last puipmer, to inhale, the country atmosphere and astoniskthe na. fives, betook himself to the Stage -coach as the most economical way of . travelling. Lest, however, his motivesshould be snspeo , ted i he invariably informed kis fellow travel lers that he pi eferred this kind of convey , ance for the opportunities it afforded ofstud dying huinan natured . It so happened that dating our exquisitee' travels, he was:thrown into company with a Jack-tar:fresh from the forecastle, and bound on a short trip to his native village to recruit ! and make repairs. Jack was seized upon by our cockney-philosopher, as a rare sub ject ofinvestigation—one from which might be extracted the material for many a pre , cious soy on his return home. He aekor , dingly commenced his examination by im , pertinent questions,. to which Jack answered with apparent good humor. Emboldened by his success, our tudent next prodeeds to quiz the honest old ar, and finding his joke* not resented, lie plie em with increased rudeness. At the next stage, Jac as The fit* "to alight, while our young philosopher, who by this time began to suspect that his inquiries into human nature might_not result-ensatis. - ; -- • factorily ashe had expected, was the last to leave the coach.. No sooner-hecHie ed, than Jack made towards him—the den. dy retreats--Jack follows him up, and seik ing him by the collar, exclaimed, "Now we'll square accounts, you land lubw • ' ber!" "Oh! Oh!--let go my coiryouserltn cried the dandy, "what do you• want to do with me ?" lust to pay you for that soft soap pal ave been giving me, you rascal !" says Jack, giving him aleelurch, by which the terrified dandy was thrown flat on hie tiacirt into a mud-puddle. Jack waproceeding to further extremid ties, when the other passengers came up and interfered for the relief of the fallen philoae opher. The old sailer was easily prevailed upon to desist, and our soiled dandy mum. ed his seat in the coach, with little desire 117 renew his investigations into human natures A CATEGORICAL ANSWER. It may seem a matterofno extraorifinary difficallty to give - a plain answer to a plaits question; and yet it is an art which reqiiiree some trouble to learn. In all half-Civilized nations, the inquirer for the most simple things, is met by an enigma for an answer; , and, among the peasantry of Scotland and Ireland, civilized as the general communi ties may be; the system often seems to be studied evasion. This dialogue is the me. , del of thousands in the Hibernian isle: 7 ---"Is this the nearest road to Cork?" "Is it to Cork you are, going?" "Yes l buttny quer"— lion is, as to the nearest road?" "Why, this road is as near as that on the other side of the hill; for neither of thein is eny_road_at - all." "Then which way ought I. to go?" "Oh, that depends on your honor's own king. Perhaps you wouldn't like itrgo back again?" "Certainly not. But, one word for alit my good fellow; do you know any. thing about any kind of a road here?" "There now, if your honor had. asked that before, I could have told you at once."- - - . - "Out with it then." "Why the: truth is, your- honor, that I i'irn a stranger in these parts;, and the best thing you can do is to stop till somebody comes that knows all a bout the way." "Stupid scoundrel! why did you not say BO at first?" "Stupid l that's' all iny thanks. Ittit why did not your hone or ask nie if I belonged to the place? that would have settled the business. Take fool's advice and stop where you are," A boy who had been lupught op in a log house in Ohio, which, of course, was--net much encumbered with usefiess •ftirnittre' - we§ one day sent on an errand to a neigh , hois house_ where several articlet of more fashionable furniture had just been received from "the eastward," and among other things a looking glass, which was suspended opposite the door. The boy had takiter bet fore seen his own face; and when i on entering the hot?, the first object which presented it' self was a dirty looking face surrounded by long yellow shaggy hair, dm. he was so af , (righted that without ceremony he ran horno as fast as his legs could carry him, egefaimt t i.E ing, "D dy, daddy, i've seen old Nick'? FAT S EP.--Sixteen sheep, red by Mr. John Bradley, of Williston Township,. Chester county, Pennsylvania, weighed air follows :=lO5, 4084 125+1;• 104 2 1254, 121, '1 . 39,,1604, 148 C 1 . 21,110, . 123, . 1 i:4li, 1,28,124—Taa1;19993 - lia.; average weight 126 Ms..' These sheep *ere sold* the rate 11/ 4 coats picrtpaund.,. The cm& or 'obtained-05 0,6 i for the !tide and tallow of each.---Phi/adelphia Nat. '" 1 , ..'
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