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(' ■ïï • - 5s«i.s ^ -, *»lll • CI»< •Jvlsi *■ if ' siU iff I* • hur 'Hjj l j „| t ft y h *>»T ■■ •.•■**■ j**«™? , ,.. .. .• ' •# MIDDLETOWN, NEW CASTLE COUNTY, DELAWARE, SATURDAY MORNING, MAY 23, 1868. ■ VOL. I. NO. 21. v - - " ir> NEW GOODS. . ir> ■ ftpring and Summer Opening I! ▲T J. A. Reynolds & Sons' MIDDLETOWN. H AVING replenished our Stock with a large and complete assortment of Spring and Summer Goods, we are now enabled to offer extra inducements to tlie people of Middletown and vicinity, as the following list of prices of tome <èf onr lending articles will show, Oalicoes at 10, 12J and 14 cents per yard. B'd Muslins 10 12$, 15, 20 and 25 " " Unbleached do 10 12$ 14, 16 and 20 " " 5-4 Pillow Case do 25, 31, and 31$ 11 * Ara'r and Russian Crash, 12$, 15, and 18 ** " American Ginghams 12$, 15, uud 20 Tickings 25, 35, and 45 " J DRESS GOODS. per yard. American Lawns 20, 22, and 25 Jaconet do 31, 37$, and 45 Plaid and Fig. Cambrics 22, 25 and 31 " " American Detains 20. 22 and 25 " " 37$, 45, and 50 " 11 AH Wool do Black and-Colored Alpacas 50 to 90 " * Silk-Mixed k all WoolPoplins 75 to 1,25 " 1 Coatings and Cassimeres. A splendid stock of 6-4 CoAtings und Cloak ings, consisting of Tricots, Piques, Doe-Skins, Ac., in Black and Fancy Colora, ranging in price from $1 50 to $6 U0 per yard. Fancy Cassimeres for Pants and Vest 90, $1 25, $1 60, $1 75 and $2 00 per yard. NOTIONS, &e. 5, 8 and lOrts per Spool. 62$, 75, and 87$ per Lb. 10, 12$, 18, 25 and 35 cts each. Ladies, Misses, and Children's White Cotton Spool Cotton Knitting do Linen ifdkfs' Hw • 12$, 15, 25, 37$ and 50«CTrts per pair. Ladies and Misses Hoop Skirts a 50, 75, $1 00 $1 25, $1 50 oath. BOOTS AND SHOES. Ladies' Lasting Gaiters a $1,25, $1,50, $2,00 and $2,50 per pair. Misses' Lasting Gaiters a $1,00, $1,25, $1,50 and $1,75 per pair. Genta' and Boys Lasting gaiters a $2,00, $2,50 $3 ,00 and $3,50 per pair. ... Geata' Cull' Boots $5,00 $5,50 uud $6,00 per pair. GROCERIES. Brown and White Sugars at 12 $, 14, 15, 16, It, and 18 cents per Lagtiayra and Rio per lb. Green and Black Teas $1,00 $1,25 $1,50 and $3,00 per lb. Brown and White Hoaps at 6 , 8 and 10 cents r per lb. Molasses a* 50, 62$, 75 find 9fl cts. per gallon. ßäT Please call and examine ! JOHN A. REYNOLDS A SONS. Coffees 25, 28, and 31 cts. April 25, I860. NAUDAIN & BROTHER Of TUB WELL KNOWN „ 0IÇEI&J ? J COBNEB, ' /^VFFER to tbe pu of Dry Goods, blic a most desirable Stock which tl»ey purchased before the advance, and Will «ell at a small profit, Wam Muita, Williamsville, and all leading makes of bleached and brown Muslins, 5-4, 9-4 and 10-4 Sheetings, and a fine Stock of Prints fast colors at 12$ cents. An attractive line of — Dress Goods, Consisting of Al pneus, Pop] i us Wool De La ins, and a nice stock < , .Mohairs and of WHITE GOODS. We bnvs a fine stock of Spring CLOTHS, COATINGS, . and fancy CASSIMERES, Which we maire a specialty. Boots & Shoes, Selling Low, Juzt receiving sewed and pegged BOOTS ANI) SHOES. Ladies and Misses Button and Congress Gaiters, from the manufacturers, alt to be sold smalt advance. - at CARPETS, STRAW MATTINGS AND COCOA MATS. A fall line WALL PAPER, at city price«. '** 'Ylaekeret, Herring and Khali, always on liami. par- all WR ASK IS A CALL, AND SHOW GOODS WITH UUEAT PLEASURE.-tSSt, HAVDAISI & llltO. Middletown. April 18—ly Excelsior Reaper & Mower. New Yorker Eeaper & Mower. Mttle Giant Reaper &, Mower. Woods' Reaper & Mower. STONER STEEL TOOTH RAKE. Westinghouse Threshing Machine. Jtqr fiak at' the Agrit'UlmrA WnrtfiMailof K. T. RVAIH. Middletown, Del. 10,000 SALMOM BRICKS, 10,000 T?od Bricks, .20,000 Hard Bricks. E. T. EVANS. Middletuwn, Del. l-i wd rl-j <*ili f. ■ ■ 4 • : , ■ April « ; loo#- ira» to" . . fOlt HALL UY HARNESSJM AKIN G-. rrigaed having ODESSA, DEL. iftniss&îxÂjffi jtJft " iine promit that CnCe 'j * 1 uud wnmtry justifies Lis ALL HIS WORK WILL HR OF THE tar best qv4Utÿ;1* ! ' ' 1 W" toafia«« to solicit a »hare of the '■ ' " M. T. GALLAHER. commenced Harness Ru April 25—tf. £cl(tt JJodrg. TUB C IUl.mtKV. BY CUAUI.KS DICKKKS. When the lessons nnd tasks arc all ended, . And the school fur the day is dismissed, The little ones gather around me, To bid me pood night nnd he kissed ; Oh! the little whitenrms thatencirole My uct(k iu (he tender embrace, O ! the smiles that «re lmlos of heaven, Shedding sunshine of lovaon my thee. .And when they are gone l sit dreaming Of my childhood, too lovely to last ; Of love tfiat my heart will remember, While It wakes to the pulse of the past, Ere the World and Us wickedness made mo A partuer of sorrow and sin : When tli* glory of God was about me, And the glory of gladness within. O ! mv heart grows weak usa woman's, And tl e fountains of feeling will flow, When I think of the paths steep nnd stony, Where the feet of the dear ones must go ; Of the mountains of sin hanging o'er them— Of the tem|K'gts of Fate blowing wild, O ! there]» nothing on earth half so holy As the innocent heart of a child ! They e • Thcv «.re idols of hearts and of households; y are angels of God iu disguise; His sunlight still sleeps in their tresses, His glory still gleams in their eyes. Oh! the»« truants from home and from Heaven, me more manly and mild I how Jesus could liken They have made And I know The kingdom of God to uckild. I «»k not ja life for the dear ones, others have doue, But thut |ife mny have just enough shadow To temper the fflnrenf the snu ; I would pray God to ptiard them from evil, But 11131 prayer would homul buck to myself : Ah I h «empli may pray for a sinner. But u sinner must pray for himself. The twiglis so easily bended, 1 have puni ned the rule uud the rod ; I have taught them the goodness of knowledge, They have taught me the goodness of God; My heart is a dungeon of darkness, I shut, them for hreukiug a rule ; My frowii is sufficient correction ; My 16vb is the law of the school. All rui i t. Wbe I shall leave the old house in the autumn, To traverse its threshold no more ; Ah ! how I shall sigh for the dear ones, That meet me each morn at the door ! I shall miss the "good nights" and the kisses, And tlip gush of their innocent glee, The group That afe jn the green, aud the flowers brought every morning to me. I shall miss tliom at morn and at ev Their I shall i song iu the school and the street, llss the low hum of their voices, And thjrtrump of tlicir delicate feet, of li te aie all ended, Aud dtjutli nays, " The school is dismissed !" May- the little ones gather around me, To bid me good night and be kissed. When tic less popular ©ales. A LITTLE FLIRTING. ixo The teaus afteiiavards q,. BY M. C. ». I > " Beware, Nellie, how you trifle where tho heart is involved. S upposmg even that Hugh Emerson is deeply in fault, iH there no blame to be attached to you ? Are "you so faultless that, on his part there is nq call for forbearance. Nellie, my child, happiness is bestowed upon but few, and even for those who arc blessed now, who ean tell what tho morrow may have iu store ? now dare you then uu gratefully spurn what the Giver has in love bestowed ?" " Cousin Annie, you do not know— you conld not feel as I do. Your life lias been so calm and unruffled-—your temper is so even—that you canuot feel for mo new. Were it not so I would tell you all— tell you of the cold contempt and haughty silence with which I have been treated. Cousin Aituic, I could forgive, forget all but this." The speakers were together on the bal cony of a building in a Southern village, weli-knowu as a summer resort for enjoy ing the pleu-sure.- of sea-breezes and sea bathing. It was night, but tho bright moon-light displayed well, aud to no disadvantage, the calm, beautiful face of the first speak er. She (vus toll,—middlcagcd perhaps, though it was hard to say whether the years passpd through had been many, or whether so fraught had they been with surruw and suffering, that the faint lines upon the bread brow were those impriutod there by care or by time. The large soft black eyes now dreamily rested far iiiway across tho broad expanse of water, hut her thoughts hud wandered further Rt111-—hack, hack into the past. Her beautiful black hair wub arranged in glossy braids ; aud ns Nellie Landen look ed up ami wondered why thut expression of intense sadness had fallen upon her cousin's fate, she almost funded that the moonlight east a halo around the perfect head. > Nellie London was a fuir type of the fashionable lady of ninetocu, iu this nine teenth oeutury ; not unlike Mrs. Walthall or Cousin Annie in appearance although instead of the dark eyes aud darker hair of Mrs. Walthall, Nellie's eyes were of tl» hue of the Violet, and Lor hair of that beautiful shade of brown on which the sunlight e' Dnuooh r seems to rest. -.-dly the bell of the season, Nelli* was not, a little spoiled by the ad miration and adulation received from all ; and the little spark of coquetry which had hitherto lain dormant, in her heart, had suddenly burnt into a flame, threatening now to mar the happiness of mord than one beside« herself; so that Mrs. Walthall, under mho*e protection she was, deetaiod it best to remonstrate a little on foe ev ident estrangement between her fair young rolativo anff Hugh Emerson, to whom'she wus betrothed. " Nellie," said Mrs. Walthall, in a low toner after many minutes of silence, as each watched the breakiug waves upon the beach below them, " tell mo your griev ances, my dear, tell them without one fear that I cannot feel for your sufferings as you would wish me to do, I may seem calm, cold, Nellie ; but it is the rest which has come to me only after many sorrows ; and dead us my heart may new appear, once it was as full of hope as yours now is." The tone, the manner, so soft and win ning, soon drew from Nollie a recital of her fancied wrongs—of little indications of a waning love on the part of Hugh ; and finally a reluctant confession that all these had been shown only after many wayward acts of her own, against which Hugh had in vain protested. " And now, Nellie, replied Mrs. Walthall, when the confession was ended, ''tell me candidly nnd honestly, if you do not think this state of things has all lteen brought about by your desire to " flirt" a little before resigning heart nnd hand exclusively to him to whom you have promised it; nnd tell me too, wheth er in your estimation the pleasant trifling compensates for the heart-aches of the past few days." " Dear mo, Cousin Annie," said Nellie, trying to turn the remarks off lightly, "how seriously you take things! My own heart, T ean assure you, is not at all involved in my "game of hearts;" nnd when the season is over Î will return to my home quite unscathed " Oh Nellie, Nellie, take care ! I have so warned you against all this ; and you cannot tell how it grieves me to hear you so lightly speak of what may affect all of your future life. 1 know it is the custom now for young ladies to act in this way, to treat as light matter the plighting of their love, and 1 cannot blame you as 1 would ; but if you will bo patient, and listen to a recalling of my past, 1 will show you why I grieve so, when I see the young and thoughtless act as you do. " I was not so young as you are now by two years, when I gave my heart truly and wholly to Eugene Benton. All was bright and happy before us—no cloud for months overshadowed our joyous lives, and before us in imagination lay years of untold happiness and love. What would I not have done for Eugene then—no doubt« ef his lovo—no doubts of his per fections ever crossed my trusting heart, until brought about by some little inci dents, which, by one calling herself my friend, were used us a foundation upon which to build n framework of deception and fraud. All was told so cleverly that I was easily dooeived, and prepared to seize upon auy tangible fact as a cause for showing Eugene that uiy heart,could easi ly be freed from its fetters, 1 ' Ah me ! I e»n look back and . smile at what I then thought so very spirited. Foor, silly child that I was, thiukiiig to E rove a callousness, which my aching eart so plainly told me did not exist. Eugene often rallied me on my coldness, and accused me of wuveriug iu my love ; list when I heard his loving words, and looked into tire depths of his clear, hynett eyes, I always repented of my late suspi cions, and my heart returned to its alle giance. So things wont on for some weeks, and gradually had been instilled into my unsophisticated heart, that Eugene w:ih not faithful in his love ; and to marry the first one that had ever asked you, w r as very tame and ooniniuuplace. That married life would only be the happier for a few flirtations previous to marriage, which would only make the wife better apprecia ted. " For you know, Annie," said my tempter in conclusion, " that a man must love more when he knows thut his with was a treasure sought for by others, and hardly wou by himself." " Just at this time I first met Mr. Wal thall, who was then ou a visit to his sister, aud soon his atteutions were received by me with an encouragement which it was very plain, quite elated him. To ask if I had then auy iutontion of ever marrying him, or any other than Eugene, is quite useless. " There was to be a lecture in our vil lage by a popular lecturer, and early in the day Eugene called to engage me to ut tend with him. For the past few days all had been serene between us, and the ing was anticipated with much pleasure on my part. Eugene had promised to early and take tea with us. hut after wait ing long beyond the appointed tinie, we fiually concluded thut something had ne cessarily prevented his comiug at so early an hour, and that lie probably would uoine only iu time to take mo to tho lecture. Tea was taken, the hour for thu lecture arrived, and still uo tidings of Eugeue. Surely, I thought, something very serious must have detained him ; and iny heart beat anxiously as Uie minutes passed away, seeming in their tardy progress like so many hours. At lust a <u) p was herd upon th* gravel v>aik, but it proved to be wiat of Mr. Walthall, who had called to ask per mission to escort mo to tho lecture. I did not answer at first, but to my great relief Eugeue now oaiue in. As he quietly apologized for having * so long delayed comiug for me, what a revulsion took plaee m my heart ! Where Was now the anxious tenderness with which l had so dreaded some eatastlirophe ? ■ Without one word of cipfciTii(thnrto either gentleman 1 «Wise,"saying l would prepare myself for my walk, aud left the room ; neither gen tleman knowing tlint each had come on *' u .. seme errand, and each applying my ac oeptoow to himself. Whc* ' 1 room on my return, Mr. Waïftm'u was deeply engaged in an examination of some even $hc î engravings at the extreme end of the room and did not perceive my entrance ; while Eugene, who was near the door, arose, saying as he did so, that he feared would be late. "Thank you," I replied very haugh tily," hut I have concluded to accept of tho escort of Mr. M althall for this even ing." " One surprised, searching look, a how. Certainly—you are at liberty to net as you please," and Eugene turned and left me ; and with him went my light and happy heart, never, never tnozwto return. " Once during the lecture I turned and found fixed upon mo Eugeno's reproachful eyes—but iustcud of being softe ned by the expression of suffering depicted there, I was only excited to a greater degree of levity and gaiety. "The next morning Eugene called, I hogged to be excused on the plea of a se vere headache, and for several days af terwards 1 heard nothing of him. Early in the following week, Mr. Walthall pro posed—and I accepted him; but not, I must say, with any intention whatever of marrying him. Ko, I only wished to rouse in Eugene a little jealousy. I thought him rather too certain of By affections ; that a little fear of losing my love would but make mo dearer, and that I would soon have my lover at my sect in penitent submission. Hut 1 little knew Eugene Benton's proud spirit. Business called him away for a short time, and on his turn, the first intelligence that gieeted him was my eng the millionaire. we I I a ... he lovingly and playfully refused, and in desolation aud pride, I finally yielded to his pcrsusaions, and was mar ned. Then came the saddest part. Had I oared nothing tor my husband, I eould » better have borne the knowledge of . the great deceptions ; hut, as I said before, I really liked lum, and was truly grieved thut 1 could do no more. Occasionally I heard of Eugene Beuten, as a reckless p young man, throwing away the talents so lavishly bestowed upon him; and many were the comments mode as to the cause of this sudden change iu his disposition und character. : " My married life was not unhappy in itself. Mr. Walthall's many virtues and great kindness rendered that impossible ; hut uh, the memory of the past, how it huuuted me ! "No children blessed our union—my unbounded wealth left me no wish uu gratified, and much time was left at my disposal. After five years of wedded life, during which 1 faithfully kept my promise, made at the altar, to he a faithful wife, Walthall died—calmly, trustingly looking to a life hereafter of peace and joy ; and 1 was again free, and the possessor of all that wealth can give. My sorrow«! the death of uiy husband was doep and sincere. My mother died during my married life ; of my father I had uo recollection whatev er, and I was left now with no protector in the wide world—young and wealthy, aud surrounded by flatterers and admirers. Ti dings of Eugene wore wftrse and worse. He hud beeotnc perfectly reekless, and now, in the last stage of a rapid decline, was dragging out his days in jmverty, wretch edness and loneliness. His wants I eould relieve by moans of my wealth, and did so through the medium of a friend. " One morning the clergyman who had been so faithful and untiring in his care of the suffering invalid, called on me and begged that if it were possible I would ac company him on a visit to Eugene Bontou, who had told of our oarly love, and ex pressed u longing once more to see me be fore the days of his earthly pilgrimage should end. Of that sad istirvtow, Nel lie I cansot speak. Although so changed. so wan and pale, I should have reoognized Eugeue anywhere—ha who had been so io prcssibly dear to me, and now was dear er still. Call ft infatuation or what you like, but wheu I again beheld him the old love came as strong as ever in the days gone past; and as I sat and listened to his words of pardon for the*past, and counsel for the future, I pledged myself that while fife granted I would ever dû my utmost in fu ture to atone for the sin* of the past. " Had I ever received one Vord of ex planation from Ey.geuo, how easily all could i"Vc bat when evo rÿ attempt on his part was'rOceivod by mo as it was, Ijiit imm4 spirit rebelled, aud in the writing of his note, he made his last attempt at gu explanation. Eugene Ben ton sleeps now in onr village church-yard, re gement to Mr. Walthall, Then came a note to me. Ah, how the words burnt into my heart, lie had been told that I had sold myself for wealth, without my heart, he well knew ; but would not withdraw his prior claim to my iiand, until requested by me to do so. My answer was cold aud bitter —no word of sorrow, no excises on my part—but deliberately I renounced iny engagement to him and acknowledged that to Mr. Walthall. Still I thought that eventually it would all be as I wished. Of Mr. Walthall's feelings I had thought—he was but my tool ; and yet had I realized his position, I should have been the lust to cause him one moment's pain. I liked him, and had unbounded respect for his many virtues, but was too engrossed with my own. affairs to give a thought to his. " Thus things went-on^ and very .-grad ually it dawned upon my mind that 1 true spinning around myself a web from which there would he no escape. Eugene had left the village after the receipt of iny heartless note, and by no word or token eould I learu aught of him to whom my constant thoughts were directed. Unco j told Mr. Walthall that my heart was not wholly mine, and asked for a release ; but newel Mr. I I was. and his soul is at rest. Can you wonder now that I tremblo when I thoughtlessly treading the paths which to me ended in such bitterness? " Your misunderstandings now may be slight , hut remember my after years of suf fering in consequence of one as slight. If Hugh Emerson conies again to offer anv planation of his conduct, be just enough least to listen with an unprejudiced heart, and if you, too, have been in fault, do not let your pride prevent an acknowledge ment." The next evening, as Mrs. Walthall was alone on the same balcony, she smiled she saw below her on the beach Hugh and Nellie, with such happy faces that she well knew—oven before Nellie had given a lit tle nod of satisfaction, as she caught a glimpse of her cousin's face—that all was as it should be ; and with bowed head and hands pressed upon her aching heart, she returned thanks that she had been the in strument in the hands of the Almighty for preventing a sin.like hers, one little ray of happiness lighted up her calm and lovely face. see others I as Fur the Middletown TranscrijU. Nkak Middi.ktown, May 14th, 1868. Having come to town on Saturday night lust, I met some of my country friends, who, after talking over things in general, asked me if I was going to the Tablix Vi vants. Tablix Vivants, I said to myself, what docs that mean ? Then the thought strnck me—Tablix means fighting and Vi vauts means pietnres. Yes, I will go, I said, and so we started to see the fighting pic tures. Mr. Editor, I can't give you a full de scription, but will tell you of some things I saw. Well, we reached the place, and shortly after getting seated I heard a hell ring and up went a curtain, when, to my great sur prise, I snw tlireo beautiful ladies all dressed to death, who they called Miss Faith, Miss Hope, and Miss Charity. This scene was enjoyed by those who had heard and read of it, and I, Mr. Editor, was oue of those, having read of it in a very old and rare book call "Mother Goose's Melodies," whieli was bequeathed to me by my grand father, who imported it. The burning of Joauis in the Ark was a heart-rending scene. It was a lady tied to a stake with a lot of burning brush around her. This pleased the audience very much : (hoy claped and stumped their feet until I thought they would tear the house down. But on mo it had a different effect; it shocked me so, I fainted. I came to my self again just in time to sec the curtain rise again nnd to behold a soldier reading tka death warrant to Mary. Site was en her knees listening to her fate ; around her were some of he friends, all of whom looked sad. Immediately after was the execution of her. There she was, -poor thing, with her heid on a block, and just behind her was » Ku-Klux-Klan with a big axe ready to chop her head oft'. This also pleased this bard-liearetd audience, who ebipped their hands louder than ever, but it was too much for me. I told my companions that p „ as going out, that I dldu't want to see mjy one's head cut off, and that I would wait down towu for them, and sol went, After waiting until it was pretty late, I went around to the Tablix again, and just as I got in I heard them call out Arteuias Waid's AVax Figgers. Thinks I, to my self, there must he some mistake, for old Artemus died a long time ago. was thus pondering, the bell rung uud up went the curtain, and then eume old Artc mas, sure enough, with the sumo old coat and pants on that I saw him wear nearly tweuty years ago. He made a speech, in which lie deesribed his Figgers. He said liis Tuuburcen girl played at the hanging of Human, that his Pugilists decided the battle of Waterlu, that his musical geuius died while singing aud was taken iu wax at the time, expressly for htB show, that his mythological subject swept the cobwebs from the sky, that after thu battlo of Bull Run, Cornwallis and Lady Suffolk took suuff together, that his organ-grinder (who was a handsome man, Mr. Editor) led the victorious armies on to the halls of Mohtc T.iinm. .After closing his speech, he wound up his Figgers. The girl heat the tarnbu reen, thu pugilist fit, tho musical genius sung, the mythological subject waved her broom, Cornwallis aud Suffolk took suuff, the organ-grinder turned his crank, and old Artemus, himself, danced. This last part was good, hut the rest I didn't like and 1 never iutcud to go to any more Tablix Vivants. Country. AVhile 1 Not G enbbau.y Known. —Martin Van Buren is the only man who held the offices of President, Vioo President, Minister to England, Governor of his own State, and member of both houses of (,'oogress.— Thomas H. Benton is the ouly man who held a seat in the Hnitcd State« Senate for thirty consecutive years. The anly in stance of father aud sen in the United States Senate, at the same time, is that of Henry Dodge, Senator from Wisconsin, and his son, Agustns C. Dodge, Senator from Iowa. General James Shield is the only man who ever represented two States tn thu United States Senate. Atone time lie was Senator from Illinois and subse quently from Minnesota. John Quincy Adams held positions under the Govern ment dirring every Administration from that of Washington to that of Polk, daring which he died. Ha had been Miuister to England, member of both houses of Con gress, Secretary of »tote, and President of the United States. He dtedvrMle'a mem ber of the House of Representatives. For Ihr XiUtriom Tnmtcripl. Reminiscences. I snw her in the very heyday and bloom of youth, liquid light 1 learning from dark lustrous eyes hiding half their splendid power of love and beauty by the fringing sweep of their lashes! She moved the central star of a bright constellation, the focus of a radiant throng, the child of af fluence, the petted idol of a domestic hearth, a bright sun about whose orb les ser lights revolved, gathering beams with out detracting from its radiance. She was womau born to rule, and sway imperious ly by mind, and the power of affection, but yet magnanimous with her might. One felt ennobled by her notice, elevated by her conversation, and knowing lier worth and intrinsic merits hoped by closer companionship to imitate her virtues, if not emulate her many excellencies. As a child, she gave great promise of a brilliant future, aa a maiden in the morn of life, she disappointed the seers of earlier days by a richer sympathy, a larger gen erosity, and moro splendid scope of intel lect, their most sanguine and partial antic ipations. She excelled iu conversation, but no envy marked her cureer amid the beautiful throng of her own sex who clus tered about her, for she stood pro iu Godlike gifts and mortal endowments. Jewelled ilamos and proud men named her but to praise, while stately matrons and grave men bowed courtly as talent grasped her hand, while it eyed curiously her wonderful attainments where wisdom refused to act as umpire. There came from ufar one of lordly car riage and kingly port ; sympathetic tastes drew them together ; love basked iu the sunlight of the two seemingly created for each other; and, for once, aoeiety endors ed the alliance. Orange blossoms wreathed a brow of Madonna-like purity, and costly robes im ported from the most fashionable city of the world, clad a form exquisite iu it's perfection. It was mid-winter, but rare exotics blazed in vernal splendor, and summer plants overpowered by heavy fragTance the draw ing rooms wherein guests moved to graeo the bridal fete of one universally beloved. The swact rose of Sharon bloomed bo side the water-lilly of the Nile, and gfudy plumaged bird« flitted amid artificial groves, a-i unseen hands trolled forth low, sweet music, transporting oue to imaginary lunds and magnetizing the senses in a be wildering maze of scenery and sound. Light blazed from hidden quarters, painting the pellucid water« of imaged fountains with rainbow hue«, gliuting mo saic paves, and the god of day ift mocking splendor completed the dazzling deception No festive board spread with costly vi ands temp teil the palafc, but the flowering shrubbery hung heavily pendant -with trop ical fruits festooned in fresh clusters to touipt the appetite. Mirth bdd high ear-ni val as wealth spread her wings joyously, (.clipping herself by cultivated taste and ar tistic ail. Wine, rich and luscious, bub bled and sank from tiny fountains, as love ly girls dressed as naiads proffered nectar from chased goblets. Beautiful women pledged bravo uu-u in overflowing bumpers, unconscious of the aspen bite of the still. and youth vied with maturity in homage paid to conventional usage and the shrine of loveliness. minent A lapso of time drew another and more? hues glowing picture—painted glittering of a maturity, ennobled and elevated, the countenance of a young mother in the full fruition of maternal solicitude, a woman bent caressingly over a babe hallowed by thu riohest love that ever welled out to inortol heck, sainted and godlike, because l>orn of Heaven. Dark tresses shaded the brow of Parian whiteness, and eyes that emanated a world of tender endearment scanned infant lineaments with proud, kind solicitude. A rich glow of modest, affec tion brushed the soft check of beauty with deeper dye as she paused to harken to the echoing steps of an approaching loved one. The dimpled smile and crowning laugh cherub crowned the aeene with rn of a diancc, as she hounded forth to meet the lord of her heart's domain. Snow-white arms entwined a form that woman well might view with pride, while sonorous ac cents fell harmoniously on the ears of lier, who looked to him as the nigh Priest of her faith's adoration. The bewitching au ditor exhilarated like wine the noble speak er, and while his eye noted the infant hearer. Whose mind still rested under the infinite seal, or dwelt in chaos, lie clasped his arms as a cover and shield about them, while his full soul, sincere and silent, thanked God for a blessed beneficence. Five years afterward, looking through the lorgnette of time, we saw another change in ftfe's dream ; haggard cheeks, and woe-marked lineaments, lips emitting mournful sounds and sad words dwelling where musical laughter w»s wont.to revel. Calumny had breathed his infortsl and poisoned the sweet chalice of life ; ho rode in the gilded ear of fashion, find sat at the festive board of the carnival, grasped at the cup of mirth, and entered the soul of the drainer as the blood of grapes passed his lips. Pride exulted in the conquest of his mistress, and hot with frîmes of old wine listened to the foal aspersions of en vy. when hi* Wood was warm and spirit high. The builded beauty of God and fan - oy crumbled ia his .sight, and passion blackened by resistless sway a form fair and divine. He turned with loathing fr*m the shrine of his worship aud hurried an immortal «oui into eternity on the etrangth of h fttlso friend, and hase fabrications. Gossip rioted id her lust, aud exulted his exit than she joyed at his more over advent. She strewed as costly flowers over his bier as at his bridal, but while she plated his coffin with gold, hunted to thu death track loveliness that survived him. Surrounded still by wealth, and cliorished by kind consideration, the poor* css of a social cirele, with "golden bowl" broken beside the Fountain of Youth, la ments the day when the prestige of birth and position placed her fair fame in tho toils of an expert calumniator. RANDOM. The Government Printing OUw. The special correspondent of the Chicago Trihmtt.■ writes n long letter.to that paper, giving an account of the Government prin ting office at Washington, from which take the following. The building is fifty by three hundred feet, and four stories high ; it is situated on North Capitol street, about a mile north of the Capitol, narrow structure, full of juiall windows, and looks like the pictures of Independence Hall in ihe old geographies. The composition-room is on tho second story, and occupies the whole length of the building, except a few feet at the east end, divided off for the office of the Superinten dent. In this room, during the session of Congress, over one hundred and positors are employed. In this room all typos are set for the whole of the Government printing All the Department reports, which are distributed broadcast throughout the country, the blanks, Executive documents, Census, Ag ricultural, Patent Office, Internal Revenue, and a hundred other reports, beside all the printing for both Houses of Congress, are put iu type in this room. The founts of type used are very large, some of them sufficient to set up five hundred pages, al octavo.. As an evidence of the rapidity of work of which this offioe)ia capable,,a roy al octavo volume, five hundred pages, can be put in type in three days. It is safe to say that this office tuna ont more copies of books, every year, than any dozen publishiug houses la the country, and the largest share of the work is not hound, and cannot bccounted as "books" Some of the reports—the Agricultural, for instance—are printed to the extent of two hundred thousand copies. This report, for 1800, contains six hundred and nine ty-two pages, including thirty-six full pa ges of illustrations, The pay of the compositors is four dollars per day for eight hours work, or sixty cent« for 10U0 eins, the prices fixed by the Col umbia Typographies! Uniou. Th* employ ees are all paid monthly. A stereotype foundry is connected with, the eomposing-reom, and all work» yaqai riag over twenty thousand copias aaasfter eotyped. The third floor is occupied entirely.«* m bifnlerv, and the fourth an a folding-room. In the bindery there are employed one hun dred males, and about the same number of females. The machinary used is all of the latest aud most approved pattern, amount of work done is immense, sides the Cougressioual binding, all the bin ding for the Executive Departments of the Government are executed liere ; i ne lading blank hooka, account books, blanks, Ac. which are all ruled aud bound in this room. In the folding-room there arc eleven fold ing machines, very perfect and automatic, each of which folds sixteen pages with one action. There are less hands e this room than any other, and mostly females. The press-room and drying-room arc on In the press-room there are The hnililing is an immens« fifty com roy It uployed i these are the first floor, twenty-five Adams presses, six Hoe angle cylinder presses, a number of small job pres ses,and one of the remarkable Bullock pres ses, in all fifty-two. The Bullock press is certainly a most re markablo piece of mechanism. Thia ma chine was introduced into tbe Government printing office about a year ago, and Mr. Defrees, the Superintendent ofPublic Prin ting, and the foreman of the press-room speak of it iu the highest terms. In a giv en time, with two hands, it did the work of twenty Adams presses, and thirty-five hands. Tito cost of the BuUoek press was 115.000, and of the Adams press.S.000 The Agricultural report, 189,550 copies, was the first nnd only book yet printed on this press. It has run more consecutive, hours than any press known. In leas than four mouths, at eight hours a day, with two men andalnborer, it printed cightmil lions of distinct impressions, without any effort to crowd its capacity. The paper for the use of this press comes from the mill in rolls containing thousands of sheets when out into proper size. The roll is placed on a roel, and tho press stated ; it uuwiuds the paper, cats off the rcqnircd size .prints it on both sides at one opera tion, counts the number of shecta, and de posits them on the delivery board ready for folding, at the rate of from eight to four teen thousand per hour, or counting both sides, from sixteen to-twenty-cight the Bl and impressions. ' ! There is also attached to tha printing office « complete machine shop, with bathes and othar necessary appliance*, ao that all repairing oau be done ta the building. It two engines—one of forty-five horse power and tho other fifteen. These engines run -all the tnaohinery in tho building, and the various department* are heated by the waste «team. liar V« , there Whatever , may lie the end of oau be no doubt when we ace Auto long train« graoefully sweeping tfio floor« tend roada, that the end of woman ia dust, , . . .... .... . , . --- '--A. The meanest of living things —the man who tattles.