THE PILOT
lti revusnED E'.EY TUESDAY HORSING BY
JAMES W. III'CRORY,
(North West Corner of Me Public Square,)
;be following rates, from which there will be no
deviation :
igiugle subscription, in advance $1.50
WWII. six months 1.75 .
lifithin twelve months 2.00
No paper will be discontinued unless at the option
of the Publishers, until all arrearages are paid,
No subscriptions will be taken for a less period
hen six months.
It Great
AMERICAN TEA COMPANY,
51 Vary Street, KM York ;
Since its organization, has created a new era in the
history of
Wholesaling Teas in this Country.
They have introchtoel their selections of Teas, and
are selling them at not over Two Cents (.02 Cents)
per pound above Cost, never deviating from the ONE
PRICE asked.
Another peculiarity of the company is that their
TEA TASTER not only devotes his time to the selec
tion of their Tens as to quality; value, and portion
hr styles for particular localities of country, but he
helps the TEA buyer to choose out of their enormous
stork such PEAS as are best adapted to his peculiar
wants, and not only this, but points out to hiin the
best bargains. It is easy to •see the incalculable ad.
vantage' a Tea, Byran has in this establishment over
all others. If he is no fluke of TEA, or the MAnxer.
if his thee is valuable, he has all the benefits of a well
organized system of doing business, of an immense
capital, of the judgment of a professional Tea Taster,
and the knowledge of superior salesmen.
This enables all Tea buyers—no
.matteritAhey,
are thousands of milei from this market- 7 to pur
chase on as good terms as the New . York: mer-:'
chants
Parties can order Teas and will be served by: us
as well as though they Caine themselves, being sure
to get original
, packages, true weights and tares;
and the Teas are warranted as represented.
W. issue a Price List of the• Company's. Teas,
which will be , sent to all who order it ; comprising
Byson, Young B.yson, Imperial, Gun
powder, Twankay and. Skin.
Oolong, Sono/tong, OrAnge and Hyson, Peko,
Japan Tea• of, earl description, colored and uncolored
This list has each kind of Tea divided into Four
Classes. namely : CARGO, high- CARGO, FINE,
FINEST, that every One may under Stand from de
scription and the prices annexed that the Company
are determined to utukrsell•the whole Tea trade.
We guarantee to .well all • our Teas at not over
TWO CENTS (02 Cents) per pound above cost, be
lieving this to be attractive to the many who have
heretofore been paying Enormous Profits.
Great American Tea Company,
Importers and Jobbers,
Sept. 16, 1865-Bm.] No. 61 Vesey St., N. Y
I. w it ilc W ur eat' "1 for a medicine that
Coughs, Influenza, Tickling in the Throat,
Whoopang Cough, or relieve Consumptive Cough,
as quick as
COE'S COUGH BALSAM.
. ,
Over Five Thousand Bottles hake been sold in its
native 'town, and'not a single instance of its failure
is known. • '
We have, in our , possession. any quantity of cer-,
tificates, snide of them from F,JILVENT PHYSICI
ANS, who htife'used it In their practice, and given
it the preeminence over nuy other compound.
It does not Dry up a Cough,
ut loosens it; so as to enable'the patient to expec
torate freely. Two or. three doses will invariably
ure Tickling in the Throat. A half bottle has ef
en'eompletely cured the most STUBBORN : 00Udfi,* and
yet, though it is so ere 'add epaedy in Ittoperation,
it is perfectly harmless, being purely vegetable.. It
is very agreeable to the taste„and may be adminis
.sred to children of any age. In eases of CROUP
we' will guarantee cure, if taken in season.
No family :should be within.: It.
It is within the reach of alL.the price being only
25 Ceil.ts. And if an investment and thorough
trial demi not "back up" the above statement; the
money will be refunded. We say this knowing its
merits; and feel= confident that one trial willseoure
fur it a home in every . household.
Dn not waste away with Coughing, whe,n so small
an infeetritent cure yen. It may be hid
any respectable Druggist in town, who will furnish
you with a circular of : genuine certificates of. Cures
it has made. C. G. CLARK & CO. )
Proprietors,
New Haven, Ct.
At Wholesale, by
Johnston, Holloway & Cowden,
23 North Sixth Street, Philadelphia, P.
For sale by Druggists in city, county, and every
where [Sept. 29, 1863.-6 m.
J. VT. BARR'S
Kammoth Stove
and Tinware Store Room,
few doors South of the Diamond, Greencastle, Pa.
trillE undersigned having purehmled Mr. Need's
entire interest in the Tinning business, wishes
.to inform the public at, large, that he has on hand,
xt his extensive Stove store;
COOK, PARLOR' A'ND NI3IE-PLA.TE
Stoves. Among them nisi The COntinental, Noble
cook, Ccimmonwealth and Charm, which he will sell
-sheep for cash. The very beat quality of
Tin, Japaned and Sheet Iron Ware,
in great variety.
SPOUTING
of the best material, for houses, &c., manufactured
and put up 114 th e shortest notice.
All are invited to call at this establishment, as the
nroprietor is con.6dent, in rendering satisfaction,
oth in price and quality of his wares. My price
ball be low! lOw ! ! • tow !! !
.
S m
ere oney by`pnrchnsing at headquarters
NIL. All work warranted
August 25, 1863
THE' GREAT CAUSE
HUMAN MISERY.
Just Published in a Sealed Envelope. Price six cents
A. Lecture on the .Nature, Treatment
and Radical Cure of Seminal Weakness. or Sper
matorrheett, induced. from Self-Abuse ; Involuntary
Emissionei Impotency, Nerfous Debility, and Im
pediments to Marriage generally ;• .Consumption,
Epilepsy and Fits t Mental and Physical Incapacity,
&c.—By Rota. J. CULVERIVILE,L, D,, Author of
"The Green Book;" &c.
The world-renowned author, in this admirable
Lecture, clearly proves from his own experience that
'he awful consequences of Self-abuse.may be effect-
Nally removed Without medicine, and without dan
gerous surgical operations . , beugieS, iestrumenti,
rings, or cordials, pointing out a mode of cure, at
once certain and effectual, by which every sufferer,
Ito matter what his condition may be, may cure him
self cheaply, privatelY and radically. This lecture
will prove a boon to thousands and thousands.
Sent. under seal, in a plain' envelope, to, any ad
dress, on receipt:of six cents, or two postage stamps,
by addressing the publiihers,
efIAS. J. 0. MANE &CM.. '
127 Bowery, New York, Dost..offiqe Bot, 4586:'.
Jan. 27, 1864.-sep22l
VOL-V
THE LOVES OF SPRING.
Crloob
HUSBAND'S SECRET •
"0 love: what is in this world of ours
That makes it fatal to be loved?"—Dox JUAN
They passed from before the altar of God,
a wedded pair, in the presence of a few friends
of the bride; and though there were not want
ing those among the spectators who uttered
evil forhodings as to their future life, the
bride, at, least, was happy.
A year before, while Geace Dane was earn
ing a fair livelihood in the Northern city, as a
seamstress, chance made her acquainted with
Henry Mowbray, a wealthy young merchant
from the West, whu had come for a permanent
residence to the city in which she lived. Ac
quaintance- ripeßed into friendship, and love
and marriage followed in its train.
But little was known of Mowbray's previous
history. He was sad and reserved in, general.
But he was kuoWn to be a .then of means and
of a stainless mercantile reputation. The few
living kindred of Miss Dane were residing in
Canada. She was left•almost entirely to her
self, at age of twenty, in making her choice;
and as she was fascinated with the address and
personal appearance of- Mowbray, she did not
hesitate to accept • the man who told her that
he loved her.
He was a tall, erect, swartlq, dark-haired
man, with an althost feminine mildness in his
dark-blue eyes, yet a.firmness of mouth and a
manliness of carriage which commanded respect
from all.
Grace was a blonde beauty, with golden hair,
and a face and figure which formed as great a
contrast' with her husband's as one could well
imagine. A fawn by the side of a lion. She
was all ardor, truthfulness, and fondness, and
seemed to live upon her smiles, which were
sad ones at the best; and'ere long she saw to
her sorrow that he was subject to woods of
gloomy abstraction.
"Gan it be that he repents his choice—and
is tired of we ?" sighed she, examining her
self in a mirror! °Does he think he has mar
ried beneath him ? Or—can he ever have
loved another ?"
J. W. BARR
In time her face took the dismal hue of
jealousy. Au accident confirmed it, and Made
her wretched.
One day when he hid seemed more than
usually, .looniy, and was absent from home,
she went into his study, and on the desk there
found an unanished letter, commencing thus :
" Dean HEIRS : I have a sad disclosure to make;
a secret lonk ori.my mind. You may reproach me
for it, but I have loved, and still ove another.—
After all that has transpired—
The sentence-was incomplete, as if the task
had been too painful to be pursued, or the
writer had taken time to consider about it, and
in his agitation of mind had left the letter ex
posed.
"Dear itden, !" murmured the wife, pale,
and striving to suppress the tumult of her
agonized heart. "It is what I have often sus
,
peFted. This Helen must ; be some former
loycr or present paritmour, and he is in trouble,
t .. 0
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Sara poctrn.
By Bill. L. 11. /31001TRNEY
I love the earliest grass,
Thai dons its mantle green,
And ventures with such fearless eye
Dissolving snows between.
I love the unfolding bud
That like a babe awakes,
When Spring beside its cradle-sheath
Her watch maternal takes.
I love the ivy-plants,
Aspiring through the sod,
To climb the sacred" Temple walls
Where the Christians worship God
I love the snow-drop pure
That bides the nipping air.
• And bendeth like a docile child
To say its evening prayer.
I love the btooklets 'mien
That glide c'er hill and plain,
And full of gladness,' sing His praise
Who broke their icy chain.
1 love the moss and fern
Whose undistinguish'd gem
Scarcely a busy tikrong regard,
Yet God remcmbereth them.
I love all living things,.
That stare our Father's love,
And by their beauty lure our souls
To seek His home above.
OR,
THE MYSTIC LETTER.
BY W. 0. EATON
GREENCASTLE, PA., .TUESDAY, APRIL 12, 1864
regarding her. About to disclose,' perhaps,
that he is now married. But he still calls her
dear Helen ! Now, lam indeed wretched.—
Oh that this letter wds finished !—that I might
be rid of this torment of suspense. To be
jealous with cause and be kept in the dark is
the worst of miseries. I could not feel such
anguish if I knew all. Shall I ask him 7
No ! 1 have too much pride to beg a secret
which he willingly keeps from me. I will
leave it. as it was, and say nothing."
Replacing the letter as it had lain, the un
happy young wife left it with a shudder, as if
she had discovered a corpse there.
Before his usual hour, Mowbray returned
home that day, and repaired hastily to the
study, where he found and seized the tell-tale
document.
" 'Tis as I thought," he murmured, with a
sad smile, gazing at the writing. "I left it by
mistake; and it was mis-addressed, too. This
show& how , my mind wanders. It is useless.
I will destroy it."
Tearing the sheet to pieces, lie' paced the
apartment in , great perturbation ot spirit.
"0 God ! what a discovery. Oh that it had
been made betore. Too late ! Too late I And
I haye sacrificed an innocent being. Would
that I had died before I ever came hither.—
My good name will be blasted, and she—l
must not think of her! I will reveal nothing
before I go. Go I must, if I would not add
to the misery I have 'caused. When I have
arrived in ---, I shall know better how to
act. But how shall I ever hold up my head
again ? And what defense will be believed ?"
Agitated as Nowbray was, he did not ob
served, when he met; his wife,-that there was
a marked alteration in her look.
She, however, noticed the increase of his
gloom, and though she partly attributed it to
the, imagined suspicion on his part that she
had read the letter, she still resolved not to
refer to it, unless she was questioned upon the
subject.
Tier unhappiness and suspicion were greatly
augmented when in the evening he said to
her
"Grace, love."
"What would you have, Henry ?"
"I wish to tell you that I am going on a
long journey to-morrow."
"Are we going, Henry ?" she asked, with a
faint smile and fluttering hope.
"No, love. Igo upon business, and it is of
such a nature that I should be but a poor com
panion for you while it lasts. You will try to
be contented—won't you ?"
"I must," she answered, in a broken voice,
while the tears coursed down her undeceiving
face, unused.ro hide emotion, ever ready to ex
press it, rather.
"You are unhappy, Grace. But I think it
may be. some relief to you, to know that it
pains me, this necessity, as much as it can
You."
"And is it a necessity.?" she quickly asked,
regarding .him with searching, eyes.
"Assuredly. And though it is aLL matter
which I cannot explain to you, I will say this
much—l feel it is for the best. And one day
you will know:all." •
"And your bUsiness here. f. Who will take;
charge of 'it' while you are. gond ? I !
"Ralph, my head clerk, has, all directions
for that.".
"How long shall you be gone ?" asked she,
gazing at him hopelessly and doubtingly. -
"I cannot tell you. But in a short time I
shall know, and shall write to .you."
"You know that I love you ?"
"I am sure of it, my dear GrAeo, as sure as
that I love you." .
The young wife said no more.; but on the
morrow, as they were parting, the conviction
stealing upon her that she would never see
him again,. she held her finger up and said
gravely
"You will never return to me."'
He hesitated, and replied only
"It rests with God. Good-bye."
The carriage rolled away, and she was left
alone. Young, beautiful, surrounded by lux
ury, yet feeling the full meaning of the phrase:
"a life , of splendid misery." With what
poignant significance came the wordy to her
memory :
The chamber 0f,. . a dying woman ! It, was
in a .richly-furnished mansion in a Southern
city, the residence of a cotton-merchant named
Maurice Worthley.
" if every heart's unwritten care
IVern stamped upon the biow,
How many would our pity share
Who move our envy now
The sufferer, it was apparent, was not from
the last stage of her mortal career. The glare
of day was softened by curtains which rustled
gently with the mild and fragrant airs of au
tumn. The noiseless steps of a few persons in
the room, their tender solicitude and attentions,
their grave glances and low whisperings, deno
ted their anticipation of the dreaded hour.
"Has he come ?" murmured the patient.
"Not yet," was the mild reply of a young
lady who was bathing her temples.
"Perhaps he will not ?" suggested the suf.
fererovith an inquiring glance; and as she
turned to watch the look of her attendant, she
revealed an extreme' beauty, exquisite even in
the decline of death, such loveliness as,'when
the spirit leaves it ; never permits the bereaved
ones to be reconciled to their loss.
Worthley, who was present, stepped silently
to the bedside and answered :
"I do not doubt that he will be here. He
must have received my letter long before this,
and the words were very urgent. He must be
here to-day. Keep up a good heart."
She smiled- thankfully'-for the hope, and
closed her eyes for a moment. Suddenly she
opened them, and eagerly exclaimed
"I hear some one coming up the walk. It
must be he. Look'!
In another moment the door was opened,
and, eovered 'with dust, Henry Mowbray en
tered the apartment, and proceeded - straight
way to the bed, placed his arms around the suf
ferer, and their sobs were intermingled.
"Blessed be God that he bas permitted me
to arrive in time, my dear Helen !" exclaimed
Mowbray; "and I owe great thanks to you,
Maurice, for having sent me the tidings."
Worthley bowed, but sad nothing.
"0 Henry, Henry, when we last parted, I
little thought you intended to abandon me.
I never gave you reason, and I have loved
you till the last."
The agony of Mowbray, at this reproach,
could only be expressed by loud sobs and in
articulate sentences.
Worthley tried to soothe him, and whisper
ed in his ear:
"Beware that you do not tell ber that you
are , married—if it is so. Nbne have heard of
it but me."
"I have been wrongly judged by you all, it
seems, and I have myself been the victim of a
cruel artifice. If you feel able, Helen, to bear
my explanation, I will make it. If not, I will
wait till you.are stronger."
"No, no let me hear it now. lam strong
enough Henry, and it will make me stronger
to hear your vindication. I feel that you have
been wronged, and•that you love me still."
"When I left you, as you knew, I was call
ed in bast to the 'West, to visit a dying mother.
Detained much longer than I expected, I wrote
several letters to you, directed to the care of
your brother Ambi:ose, then in this city, as I
supposed. But I never received a reply to
them; and afterwards heard that you bad left
with him to his home in Cuba. On this I
wrote to him, and not long'', after received thi s
letter from him, which, as you will see, up
braids me for having abandoned you, and states
that you died in his arms, and of a broken
heart. I thought this true, and wondered that
he had not received my letters to you; but as
his next and final reply to -my inquiries was
one of denunciation and apparent doubt, I
pursued the inquiries no farther. And since
that . time, until I heard from Mr. Worthley
of your presence here, I have been left to feel
that I was the victim of unavoidable mischance,
misapprehension, and the despised survivor of
the wife whom I have ever fondly loved. But
as I find that Ambrose grossly deceived me as
to your death, I believe be must have intercept
ed and with held my letters to you—thus car
rying out old antipathy he conceived from me
from the first. Poi you know, Helen; how he
opposed our marriage."
She faintly murmured her surprise and con
viction that her brother was the guilty party;
and while she glanced over the, letters, Worth-.
ley took Mowbray aside, and informed him
that his brother-in-law, Ambrose Percy, had
done all h.: could , to prevent the return of
Helen; but she, impelled by a desire to see
her husbend once more before she died, though
she had often written to him, but never re
ceived an answer—the letter, doubtless, hav•
ing been kept by his enemy—had once more
come to M------, and besought him to leave no
means unemployed which might ascertain her
husband's whereabouts and bring him back to
her, ere she was, summoned to the grave.
"I had long before heard of your marriage in
the North," continued Worthley, in a whisper.
"Though it is.best for ,her: that she should re-
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main in ignorance of it. She can be spared,
at least, that useless wound. And, pardon me,
Henry, if the letter I wrote to summon you
hither contained a severe reflection upon your
conduct. I, too, was in the dark."
"Alas we have all been in the dark," re
plied Mowbray, rogarding . his wife with unut
terable anguish. "Look at me, dear Helen,
and tell mo that- you feel assured of my love
and sincerity:"
His wife made several vain efforts to speak,
for her mortal struggle was beginning. Hope
had nerved her, and her long-suffering spirit,
now Satisfied regarding her husband, seemed
impatient, to fly from its frail tenement. At
last she succeeded in saying, feebly :
"I have nothing to forgive, Henry, I am
going, very soon. Pardon my doubting. We
will meet with God t"
With the parting kiss he gave her, Mow
bray inhaled her last breath. Her eyes look
ed fondly Whin], closed, and he felt a slight
pressure of her hand.
4, llelen !"
•
She spoko no more. •
She was dead.
Even he had •thought it best, she was be
yond his power to reveal his • second marriage.
The hand of death had anticipated the reci
tal !
The hour was not wanting in a new pang
and a new surprise for' Mowbray, while be was
mourning bitterly over the loss of his first love.
The door was again opened; aud a lady en.
tered, with a wild and palid look of inquiry.
It was Grace.
Overwhelmed by dispair, she had formed a
hasty resolve t 0 follow her husband, and had
succeeded in readily tracking him to AI
where she had arrived in time to see her. rival
a corpse.
' She approached the couch—the secret still
a mistery to her—and gazed upon the lifeless
loveliness of one iyho had loved her husband
first, but naught the More fondly. Mowbray
was too much absorbed in the contemplation
of the dead, .to notice the approach of the liv.
lug wife
,
Worthley guessed intuitively who she was,
and, quickly drawing her aside, made a hur
ried explanation of all, and it was a balm for,
her lacerated heart wore precious than life
itself to her.
Retiring to another apaitment, she awaited
the presence of Mowbray, and in that
inter
view exonerated him.
" They never loved who loved but once,"
she said, quoting a saying which bad often
been debated upon ber; "and you were' the
victim of a villian's .hatred, and unavoidable
mistake."
The reunion of Henry with Grace was an
unexampled one, but attended with no reproach.
They live still in the city where the beautiful
and unfortunate Helen died, and Grace keeps
her grave bright with native flowers through
out the year. Her eldest born is named for
Helen, and the family feel that she smiles upon
them from above, where loves are imperishable
as the souls that give them birth.
As to the fratricidal Ambrose, he did not
king survive the sister he had murdered by
peiceweal. He was shot in a duel by one to
whom he / had admitted his villainy, and who
had denounced him publicly as one not fit to
Y. Mercury,
Old -men's eyes are like old men's memo
ries; they are strongest for things a long way
off.
If you bee a than in the habit of slapping
his pocket, you may set himdawn as a coarse
minded, vulgar,• miserly curmudgeon.
A. parent's forgiveness of a daughter when,
her heart is broken, is pardon after exeoution.
Very often men cut their love-terth, as they
do their wisdom-teeth, very late in life.
It isn't desirable that time should mellow
people who are too soft already.
There is often quite as much to be educated
out of young men as into them.
It is a great thing in.this rainy world to be
hold a day that doesn't look like a night.
Some of our tongue-valiant men never draw.
a bead, but imbibe a great many.
There are generally a good many more gips
to love than in. ir.
They say that the ground is the only relia
ble bank, but it is broken every day .
Vanity is a greater slanderer than walice
$70.00
35.0(
20.00
8.00
5.00
4.0
6.00