While I was sitting in my hotel, not far from the depot, a Lancastrian, who lounged in, got to telling the proprietor a very interesting story, of an adventure he had recently met with while hunting ducks. He was relating the story in English, and I listened with interest. The purport of the story was that he and another man had shot at a duck simultaneously; it had fallen, and a dispute had arisen as to which had brought it down. Just as he reached the crisis of the story, where the dispute was about to be decided, against the other fellow, of course—and there seemed some funny circumstance about it, for they laughed immoderately—he jumped off the track, as it were, and finished in Dutch, something like this: “Undsehrichtienochtuchuherkroshomlustienblosterb hionmemmtehtehtchtchch-h-h—h-h-h—h——h——h —— ——-h—— — —h— — —h—cht—AUGH!” Imagine how tantalizing this was to me. My knowledge of German or Dutch is very limited. Beyond _Lager Bier und Schweitzer Kase_, _ein_, _swei_, _drei_ I simply know nothing of any of those Teutonic languages; and I, therefore, do not, to this day, know the _denouement_ of the Lancastrian’s story. While in Lancaster, I took the liberty of calling on two prominent men of opposite political parties, both of whom have since passed away. I allude to James Buchanan and Thaddeus Stevens. Each received me cordially and conversed with me in an easy and pleasant manner. From the citizens of Lancaster, I learned that they were kind-hearted and noble men, and that their private characters were above reproach. Those two public men were regarded with some bitterness during their lives; but whatever may have been their errors, I believe they were errors of the head and not of the heart. They are at rest now, and I earnestly ask the whole people of our Country to join me in saying—“PEACE TO THE ASHES OF BOTH!” I shall never forget the extraordinary courage I saw displayed by an hotel clerk, in Columbus, Ohio, while sojourning there during the little tour in question. I was in the sitting-room, one day, when a large, rough-looking man, in a state of inebriation, came in, took a seat in one of the arm-chairs, and manifested symptoms of slumber. The clerk soon saw him, went promptly to him, and gave him to understand that that state of things wouldn’t do. “Come,” said the clerk, “this won’t do. You must get out of this. We don’t want a man to come in here drunk, and sit around half asleep.” “Wha-at?” growled the inebriate. “I say you must get out of this,” said the clerk, laying his hand on his shoulder. “Come!” He said this in a decided tone, as though he expected the drunken gentleman to get up and be led out. But the man made no move toward getting up, and, moreover, didn’t appear to be much afraid of the clerk. “Did you hear what I said?” demanded the latter, shaking him slightly. “Well, s’pose I did? What then?” Such impudence to an hotel clerk!