Summerside Journal -- 1866-11-01 -- Page 1

AND WE

S T

Summerside Doucnal,

ERN PION

EER.

DEVOTED T

O LITERATURE, SCIENC

E, COMMERCE, AGRICULTURE, AND NEWS.

Vol. 2.—Whole Numbe

r 66,

er 1, 1866.

No. 4.

THE

Summerside Journal

sI8 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED KVERY
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RY
BERTRAM & BARNARD,

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The following gentlemen have consent-
.ed to act as Agents, and they are authori-
sed to receive monies, and give receipts,
,on our account :

Charlottetown—W. E, Dawson, Esq,
Henry Harvie, Esq.
Centreville—Major Wright, Esq
Upper Bedeque—Wm., G, Strong, Esq
@ryon—George Muttart, Esq
St. Eleanor's—W. ‘Tl. Hunt & Co
Cascumpec—Benjamin Rogers, Esq
Margate—Reuben Tuplin, Hsq
New London—Vidgeon & Stewart.
Malpeque—W) & P McNutt.
Southport—Uenry Beer, Esq
Vernon River—Mr. George Vickerson
Georgetown—Andrew LeBrocque, Esq
Port Hill—David Ramsay, Esq.
Zignish—Benjamin Haywood, Esq.
Miscouche—Joseph B. Perry.
Crapaud—Charles Collit.

JOB PRINTING

of every description, performed with neatness
and despatch, and at moderate rates, +
at the Jounnan Oftice.
seen
Summerside Markets,
Summensipe, Noy, 1, 1866.
sere eee 280 263d
---- Bs a 3s Gd
eee eee Ts ldalds 8d
---- Is 2da ls 6d

Oats per bush
Barley per bush - -
Potatoes per bush - -
‘Turnips per bush - -

Butter per lb by ‘Tub - - ----- Is ld als 2d
Jaard per Ib -- Oda lod
‘Lallow per Lb. -- Oda lod
Exgs per doz - -- 9d a 10d
Beef perlb ------- -- 4d a dd
Mutton per lb ------ -- 3da dd
Pork per lb by carcass -- 4da Sd

-- -1s 6da ls Od
-- 50s a 608
--- lisa lis

- - 50s a 60s
-- Is 6d 2s

- 10s

4s ads

Geese cach -,
Flour per bbl
Oatmeal per crt.
Hay per Ton -
Straw per cwt.
ine Boards -
Spruce Boards

Business @ards,

BANK OF PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND.
Corner of Queen § Water Sts., Charlottetown
President—Hon. Tuomas H. Havyirann,

Cashier—Witiiam Cunpaun, Es
Discount Days—Mondays &
Hours of Business—Fom 10a.m. to 1 p.m,
from 2 p.m. to 4 pan

UNION BANK.

Grafton St., Queen's Square, Charlottetown
President—Cuantes Parmer, Esquire.
Cashier—James ANpenson, Esquire,

Discount Days—Mondays, Wednesdays,
and Saturdays.

Hours of Business—From 10 a.m to Tp um

from2 puto 4pm

SUMMERSIDE BANK.
Central Street, Summerside, P, E. Island,

President—lfon. Joun R. Ganvinen.
Cashier—E. L. Lyprarp, Esquire
Discount Days—Tuesdays and Fridays.
Notes for Discount must be in betore 11
o'clock on Discount days,
Hours of Business—10 a. m., tol p.m.
from 2p. m., to4 p.m

JAS. WILLIAMSON,

Commission Merchant,
" "MONTRH AL.

is prepared to receive all orders for
Flour, Cornmeal, Leather Tobacco, &c.
on deeasonable Terms.

REFERENCES:

D. Rogers, Esq., - - - Summerside, P, 1.

John P, Thurgar, Esq., - - St. John, N.B.

Messrs. B. Douglas & Co., Amherst, N.S.,
July 26, 1866. tf.

James Greenough, .
bn}

FLOUR
Commission Merchant.

No 47 Commercial Street
Corner of Clinton Street BOSTON

J. F. HILL & OO.

DEALERS IN

Potatoes, Apples, Onions,

Korcign & Domestic Hruits,
Cranberries, Beans, Green & Pried Apples
Stalls 107 and 109.
and Cellar No. 19, Faneyjl Hall Market
SOUTH SIDE BOSTQN,

CARD
WILLIAM BEAIRSTQ,

Commission Merchant,

Auctioneer & General Agent,
WATPR STREET,
Summerside, ------------ ---- P, E. Island

Summerside, Oct. 12, 1864,

DAVID BERTRAM,
Saddle and Harness Maker,

Water Street . . . . . Summerside:
October 12, 1865. ly ;

Business Gards.

THOMAS KELLY,
Barrister - at - Law

AND

NOTARY PUBLIC, &c.

SUMMERSIDE, - - - PE. ISLAND
aug, 9, 1866 ly

“GHORGHALUNY, |
BARRISTER AND
Attorne y-at-Law,

NOTARY PuBLIC, Gc,
Telegraph Luildings, Water Street,
Charlottetown, -- -P. E. Island.

WILLIAM DODD,
Commission Merchant,
And Auctioneer,
QUEEN SQUARE,
CHARLOTTETOWN --- P, E. ISLAND
H. J. RICHARDSON,
CoMMISSION MERCHANT

Auctioneer.

Flour, Groceries, and
Dry Goods.
Water Street... ... Summerside.

CARVELL BROTHERS,
AUCTIONEERS,

Commission Merchants,
And General Agents,

BANK BUILDING, QUEEN STREET.
Charlottetown, «= « - = PK, Tan,
THOMAS HWANFORD,
AUCTIONEER
AND
Commission Merchant,

ST. JOUN, N. B.
Nov 1, 1865 ly

DRS, PRICE & BLACK,
Physicians & Surgeons,

Orrick—At the SUMMERSIDE DruG Srore
next door to Bank, Central Stree
SUMMERSIDE, ... <2 FP. Bi ISLAND
October 12, 1865. ly

J, Il. GIBSON,
Plain & Ornamental
HOUSE& SIGN

PRINTER,
Summenside,.... DP. L. Island.
October 12, 1865.

Archibald McKay.
MONOTON, N. B.,

Contractor and Agent for the purchase and
sale of—
Ship Timber, Masts, Plank, House
Frames, and Lumber of all kinds.
3@™" Orders for shipment will receive promp
attention . bias

Dealer in

REFERENCES:

uire,
squire,

Tuomas ALLry
Sinas Barnann, FE:

May 17, 1866.

E. D. STAIR
CABINET-MAKER,

AND

Undertaker.

FURNITURE OF ALL KINDS MADE
TO ORDER,

Kent Street, ---+--
Sept. 1866. 6m.

A CARD.

NUE subseriber having purchased the

STOCK IN TRADE of James L. Hoiw yy
at St. Kleanor’s, the buginess in future will be
conducted by, fim, Asjit is his intention to
keep constaitly on hang a variety of goods
adapted for the country ade, he respectfully
solicits a share of public patronage,

ALBERT L, ANDERSON,

St. Bleanor's, April 10, 1866,

JOHN ANDREW MACDONALD,
Importer of. Dry Goods,
Hardware, Crockeryware, Groceries,

stoves, Furniture, &e. &e.
Summerside, «oes ..+-- P. EK, Island

} Charlottetown.
Isl.

Charlottetown

r

A. W. ANDRE'S

Marble Works,

Monuments, Tombs, Grave-
stones, &c.
American & Italian Marble con-

stantly on hand.

Sold at a less price than at any other estab-
lishment in the Provinces.

Point Du chene, N, B., oct. 18, 1865,
Carriage Factory!

o has evgry facility

public that
CLABS CARRIA

ing out a FIRS

SLEIGH, | Vly best offmountin: arapteed
and in the first style. All wh wt good
serviceable Waggan ort hh ii do Avell to
call at the Long River Carridge Fact

Atso—All kinds of Blacksmith wark, such
as Csrriage and Sleigh Mow Plough
Mounting, Horse Shoeing, Shi work, &e.,
done on the premises with neatness & despatch
DONALD BEATON,

Long River, New London, aug. 16, 1866, 8m

Point Du Chene, Shediac, |:

Summerside, Prince Edward Island, Thursday, Novemb

PORTRY.

oo ee pn nner

THE WATCHER.

Low bending o'er the couch of death,
A grief-worn, stricken mother lay,
To gather, from the struggling breath

‘The words her dying mouth would say.

The rising sun its radiance threw
Upon that maiden’s fragile form;

And rosebuds, decked with glittering dew,
Breath’'d forth their fragrance from the lawn.

The little birds, so still before,

From blooming trees their matins raise,
And seem, in sympathy, to pour

A softer, richer song of praise.

The dying girl, aroused awhile
yy strains she fondly loved to hear,
Kissed her dear parent, with a smile,
And sought her breaking heart to cheer.

Sweet music, mother !—soon to cease—

But sweeter far I hear on high—
Glad strains of welcome, joy and peace,
To cheer my spirit, ere I die.

O, mother dear, forbear to weep,

Love cannot stay the parting breath;
Say, what is death? but lengthened sleep,
‘To wake in heaven, as Jesus saith,

A little while, and we shall meet

Where pain and grief are rever known—
To worship at Immanuel’s feet ;

Aguin to know as we are known.

Ere the poor mother could reply,

The spirit of the maiden pass‘d,

To dwell with ransomed souls on high,
Long as Eternity shall last.

Select HZiterature.

~NELVS: VICTORY.

a
Purr Frnt lay wearily on his pillows,
poor fellow! Crippled as he was, the days
wore slowly by—gray days! Ashe lay
dreamily looking ont of the window, his
sister Nellie came in, and, setting a bas-
ket of cones and moss down on a chair
near the door, she stepped to her brother's

bedside and threw back the gray hood and
tassels of her cape, and stood with her

rosy, Wind-freshened face, and her pretty
brawn braids loosened by her breezy
walk,

*Philip,’sald she, ‘IT think this is the
loveliest place Lever saw. I have been
away over into the ‘Hundred Acre Lot,’
as nurse calls it, on Squire Wilbur's land,
and then across the turnpike, over to the
lake-edge, among the pines, and see! this
moss and the cones I got there, Won't
we have some splendid baskets and thing's ?
and, Phil, my pocket is full of checkerber-
ries.’

And, getting a cavdsbasket that stood on
the window-ledge, she began to shake out
the searlet berries into it, keeping up,
meantime, @ merry breeze ot talk, telling
all about where she had been and whom
she had seen,

«And, oh, Phil,’ said she, amongst the
rest of her merry talk, ‘met Dr, Grey on
the turnpike, and he asked me if bringing
you here into the country wasn’t just the
right medicine for you, and if I thought
this was equal to being in town. Ta be
sure I do, and I told him you were like a
newman, Ifyou could only walk, my
blessed brother! and a shadow fell over
her bright face. ‘Never mind, Phil. If
that ugly wound ever heals enough, so
that you can go about the house even, and
stand in the door, and look out on this
glorious country stillness and greenness,
so quiet, and sunny, and beautiful, it will
be sure togét wellthen, And Phil, Leame
near forgetting to tell you, Dr, Grey says
he expects the other doctor to come out of
town to-day—the one who is going to act
as his colleague, you know—and he says
he shall bring him round to see you soon,
Dr. Grey says that he is so driven that he
don’t pretend to eat or yslecp now-a-days,
there is so much ccuntry practice.”

‘TL shall rather dread a stranger—shan't
you, Nell? said Phil.

‘Tdon'tknow, said Nell, He may prove
quite an acguisition to our limited cirele in
society. Let's see—that consists at present
ot Dr. Grey, Nurse Gould and our noble
selves,” and she laughed heartily.

‘Well, well, whether he comes or not,
T want my lunch, for Lam starving near-
ly.’

“+ Yes, IN go right now, Phil. How I
wish mother could look in now and see
how cozy we are, Tmreal glad she let
me come, instead ot coming herself, And
Phil, it nothing happens, we'll walk over
to the lakesedge together another spring.
“Yes, you dear old Nell,’ said the sick
man, his pale face seemed to light up from
hers, so filed as it was with youth and
sunshine, ‘But, it seems, Nell, as if J
couldn't wait——'

‘Courage, dear,’ gaid Nell; and she
flitted off in quest of the luncheon.

Later jn the day Phil said;

‘Nell, there is same one at the door, and
he has rung and rung; and there, he’s
roing. Hurry, Nell?

But Nellie was at the door before Phil's
words were aut af his mouth, and, throw-
ing it open quickly, the jay af the cattage
door made the strangerturn, He saw her
and stepped nearer hey,

‘What a glorious tyce | thanght Nell.
He bowed gracefully.

‘Miss Flint, [ prestime. Allow me to
introduce myself=Dr, Fanchon, at your
service. Dr. Grey sent me ayer to see
about that change of wash for your brothers
wound, which he had planned for it to-
night. My colleague bade me apologize
for his neglect of you ta-day, and bade me
introduce myself and explain his absence,
Ile is ealled to a very critical case, and
has left some of his other patients with
me.’

‘Ah, Dr. Fanchon, oome in. Dr, Grey
was just speaking of you this morning,’
said Nellie, in her own sweet, frank way
leading him to Philip's room. ‘Ile told
me he was expecting you to-day, but I did
ndt know you had arrived?

‘ * [have been in the place only two hours,
Miss Flint,’ said he, his great black eyes
lighting up with a pleasant smile, ‘ This

.

is the first professional call I have had the
honor to make in the place. The doctor
found me waiting at his office when he
got back this morning from his rounds.
And this is our patient, eh? How do yuu
find yourself to-day, sir?’ said he, turning,
in his easy, graceful way, to Phil, at Nell’s
introduction,

*So-so, doctor,’ said Phil.
to see you, sir, Nell,
lounging-chair that look:
the room,’

The doctor smiled, and having seated
himself in Phil’s chair, as he sat partly
turned away from Nell to her brother, she
had a chance, forgthe first time, to observe
him critically. A magnificent, massive
form; black, wavy hair; a clear, wavy
skin, and a magnificently full and black
mustache, beneath which his chin showed
smooth aud shapely asa marble carving;
and a white hand—a wondrous hand in its
shape and expression, for hands have their
expressions—so much Nellie had time to
note, when he turned suddenly -

‘Dr. Grey says your brother has had a
pretty hard time,’ said he. * When did
you leave New York, Miss Flint?’

‘We came four weeksago, doctor. We
left New York the lust of April. Some of
our friends discovered this cozy nook on
their summer trip to the mountains; and
our doctor in town said Philip would never
get well unless he had fresh country air
anda change of scene, Dr. Hazledean
knew Dr. Grey here of old, and recom-
mended him to us, so we came.’

* Put the pillows behind me, Nell, and
Til sit up awhile,’ said Philip; but before
Nell could reach his side, the doctor, with
a strong arm und gentle effort, made the
required change, and witha smile as sweet
and sympathetic as a woman's, said :
‘There you are, Mr. Flint. Do I serve
your turn as well as Miss Nellie ?’

Philip thanked him merrily.

‘Your nose is out of joint, Nell,’ said he.
You and Nurse Gould together could not
have moved me like that, though you do
wonders in that line, Doctor, 1 hape by
fall Lshan’t have to be such a helpless
stick; I feel asifthis was just the place
for me to get well.’

‘Yes, yes, Mr, Flint; please God we shall
do wonders in the way of healing and
being healed, here in this fresh, breezy
place,’ said Dr, Fanchon, and he looked
at Nell with such a strange depth of sad
feeling in his dark eyes, that she could not
turn hers away from the pleading, haunted
look under those weary lids; but the look
Hashed out and was gone, and his eyes
looked so sunny and smiling, that she could
hardly convince herself that it was not all
ip her own imagination.

The doctor chatted gracefully and happi-
ly about the scenery, the possibilities in
in the way of society, the fine air, and
pratt making © critical examination of
Philip's case, which he had quietly and
warily been noting, however, ever since
his introduction into the room, noting
every change that fitted over Philip's pale
fnou, 7

He left a presoviption tor the wash, and,
shaking hands with them, he took his de-
purture, promising to call the next morn-
ing; and so he went his way.

Nellie and Philip compared nates, and
decided that Dr, Fanchon was, by all odds,
the handsomest and most fascinating young
man, orrather, youngish, they had ever
met.

‘What in the world, Nellie, sent such a
man as that up into this quiet little place ?’
said Phil,

‘I'm sure I can’t tell,’ said Nell; and

again his words about ‘healing and being
healed,’ and the fancied sad look that ac-
companied them, flitted back to Nellie’s
mind, but she did not connect them with

Phil's remark, and dismissed the idle

thoughts,

Little she knew of the pain with which

she would recur to them some day, won-

dering at her blindness all the time,

Alter this call the doctor came every

day in the most genial way. Dr. Grey

sometimes accompanied him; but at length

he gradually left the ease entirely to Dr.

Fanchon, And so Dr. Fanchon kept com-

ing.

Spring deepened into summer, buds

burst, held their short glory of bloom, and

then withered, ‘Lhe slender wheat-blade

sprang to noble maturity—2 whiskered

warrior with bowed nead. The summer
sun glowed hot, mellowing with its waves
of warmth and life all the litle village,

the hills and woods,

Nell’s walks were becomin
country life, with its sweet : suries ot

leatand bloom, bud and green forest depth,

its luxuriance of glovions things, filled her

unaccustomed soul with delight.

Philip seemed to be a litle restored ; his

wound was healing, and it was time torit,

too; it was nearly a year since he had been

hurt in the railroad accident. But, tor

some reason or other, his system seemed

to be entirely prostrated; there was no

healthy reaction, and allenergy and am-

bition was gone out of him,

Ile was now, with the faithful doctor's

help, able to reach the door, and as Nell

had prophecied, the sight of the summer

carnival out of door seemed to do him

good; but it was in a subdued way. And |
Nell telt a dull weight on her heart when
she thought of her spring hopes in regard
tv him, and compared them with the sum-
ner fruition, But still she comforted her-
self with hoping that when the hot sum-
mer days were past, and the cool, clear
autumn days came, they would complete
the invigorating work already begun by
the fresh country air, and she devoted her-
self still more faithtully and tenderly, it it!
were possible, to her poor Phil.

llis invalid mother had come from the

city, bringing her married sister, and Nek
lie's duties had become less onerous since

the spring; but still she and Philip seemed
to have # closer aflinity for each other than

any of the rest of the family, and the great-
ae af each day was spent by his bed-
side,

And Dr, Fanchon still came daily, He
seemed to feel happy and at home then,
and as he gradually slipped into a familiar
and cozy uequainkince there, he would
unbend himself and talk to these two
young comrades as he unbasomed himself
to_no other living beings, He came when
de (elt sad or when he was happy, and he
found them eyer the same—aliays in tone
with his own mood, whatever it might be.

‘Tam happy
ae the doctor the
the easiest onein

glorious;

out of the vill

aver
in vain,

| lake

the broad window-sill, and Philip lay on
the sofa, he would sit near them and talk
re ‘the good, the true, and the beauti-

‘ul,’

He would let them catch glimpses of the
workings of his own glorious soul. He
would flash before them its hidden wealth
of thought and poesy, and sometimes,
though rarely, they would catch a faint
glimpse of its store of tenderness, as he
spoke of his mother, who had long gone
to vest, and whose life had become to all
on earth but asa ‘story from a printed
book.’ And once he let Nell read his re-
ligious creed; he told her all he believed
and loved, and what pained him to his
heart’s core iv the vile contests and strifes
of the many cliques or denominatiens,
And then, as he went home that night,
under the summer starlight, atter telling
her, he smiled bitterly to himself at the
thought:

‘What a fool I always make of myself
up there! turning my heart inside out so!
Why do I tec! that irresistable desire to tell
that girl everything? to let my noblest self
appew before those innocent eyes? Dr.
Fauchon, take my advice, and don’t make
a fool, or worse, of yoursell.’

And for a day or two he assumed a
shadow of reserve; but Nell’s cheery,
child-like, frank ways soon scattered it,
and Philip seemed to miss his usual genial,
brotherly way, till, almost unconsciously
to himself, he lasped back into it again,
and, if anything, became a shade more
frank, as is often the case when a selt-
imposed restraint is removed,

And as for Nell—our young Nell, with
her heart in her eyes—and a guileless
heart it was, ieee Ruy Gal I tellhow Dr.
Guy Vanchon was vecoming a necessity
to her; her very heart took root in his
strong, noble heart and presence. And
meanwhile she never dreamed that she
loved him so; she never dreamed that
others might haye more right to him than
she,

Sne had caught that sad, worn look on
his glorious fuce often since that spring
day when he spoke so earnestly, somourn-
fully, about ‘healing and being healed,
and since then she had noticed
twice a few words half uttered, then chok-
ed back, She had seen those dark eyes
tlash ov fill with tears at a sudden turn in
some of their twilight talks; she had no-
ticed sudden silences, fitful breaks in their
talk, and yet she never paused to connect
it with anything in his thoughts ; she never
wondered why it was so. She had a
vague idea that he had not had a happy
early life—that was all,

Poor Nellie! she was not versed in
hnnan nature; she could not see how the
man was struggling with himselt; she
never dreamed how many times he re-
solved mantully neyer to come to see her
again, breaking his resolves, as soon as
they were farmed, the very next day,
when the yearning desire to be in her rest-
ful, quieting presence, with its sweet, child-
like dash of reverence, was too strong to
be repressed, And he would go again,
And so he kept forging new chains, and
further and further away drilted his pru-
dent intentions, till one evening he made
a brave effort and resolved to leave it all
there, and never to go again, torhe knew
thatif he but sent the word, Dr. Grey
would take charge of Philip ance more;

sealed door; and he knew that never, while
that iron secret must be hid, had he right
to love any woman, or to ask her to marry
him,

Well, our poor friend, who had so braye-
ly pledged himself to dash out of his dull
lite its one well-spring of innacence, of
love, of peace, we will
with him—how well he earried it out.

very core of snmmer’s heat, anc

lie and Philip would) watch the path
s the field tor his coming, and watch

Duty seemed a cold and vixenish dame,

and he struggled harder wand harder with} tangled curls we

himself as he vode on.

Ile cricd out at his own bitter lot; he
vias ready to curse the hfe which had be-
fallen him, Te laid plans for leaving the
place, for fleeing from temptation, for
going where, by the wildest possibility
he was sure of never seeing Nell again.
she was beginning to love him,
and he cursed his own heartlessness in not
thinking before that he might be making
her sulfer; that all this might end in suffer.
ing for her, his ‘darling! his gentle darl-
ing! *1t he could only take back the
last ten years of his lite?—and Dr Fan-
chon ground his teeth as he thought on,
and his face was stormé with feeling, with
agony, When—as he rode slowly into a
grove of pines. where the dead ‘needles
of last year’s foliage, lying like a thick ear-
pet upon the ground, muflied his horse's
tread—he caught a land through a
vista of foliage, of Nell, in her white
wrapper and light shawl. She was lean-
ing agalnst a tree, onthe bank of the little
he had admired so much upon dis-
covering it in the spring.
To the wind went all the doctor's fine
resolutions, She stood with her back to-
ward him, but he knew every curve of
that dear form, every glint in that golden
brown hair.

He knew she was perfectly nnconscious
of his presence, and an insane, raging desire
passed like a wave over his soul—reckless
impulse to look in her dear eyes again, to
tell her he was going away from the
lige hag it not true ?’—to tell her *good-
xy.) Yes! he would see her again—he
must see her! and for the rest his soul
was in a blinding whirl. He neither
thought nor cared, you see.
So he went to bid Nellie Flint good-by,’
to tell her he was going away, that duty
called him,
She did not hear him. She was partly
turned away from him; she was humming
a little song to herself, and looking across
the Inke as she hummed. — He could ever
see the color on her check, the hair rippling
on her forehead, her slender hands twist-
ing the tassels of her dress.

Another step and a slight rustle betrayed
his presence, She turned with a start, and

Hlis calls seemed so be ever as much for
his own healing as they wereprolessional ;
and ashe would drop in sometimes iv the

seeing him, her face lit up gloriously, and
her hands fluttered out toward him almost
| unconsciously,

1

summer twilight, while Nellie leaned in

see how it fared},
; : i ot medicine,
He started ou his rounds immediately the] one dark, s
next morning. It wasa rare day, at the! 4¢ the lecture-room, an
he rode } | ‘
age, With a lingering look] ;
across the field at the Flints’ cottage and
a pang at his heart, he thought how Nel-

*What a start you gave me, doctor!
Welcome!’ said she, smiling. ‘ Where
did you come fiom? You didn’t ‘rain
down,’ for you couldn't on such a splendid
day asthis. I was just thinking about you
—or—rather,’ and she colored slightly, and
stammered. ‘x moment ago. Sit down,'
and she dropped lightly down upon the
moss at the tree toot, and made a place for
him by her side,

‘What were you thinking about me,
Miss Nellie ?’ asked he, as he threw himself
down nearher. ‘Were you thinking what
asad devil 1 am? or were you wondering
where I came from, and who I belonged
to—what my past lite has been? — I say,
iss Nellie, why have you never asked me
t all these things? You know I haye
neyer spoken of myself. I should have hated
you if you had, though?

Something in the savage earnestness of
his words startled Nellie, and she turned
to look at his face more earnestly. It was
pale and conyulsed, and his eyes seemed
ty lighten. His looks alarmed her.
‘Why, doctor,’ she exclaimed, starting
to her feet, *how you frighten me! What
is the matter? never saw you look so
before! I was only wishing you were here
with me to see how beautiful the Jake looks,
and how the sun looks on it; how the wind
ripples and rocks those great lily-leaves ;
it is so still and lovely here; but you have
driven it all out of my head with gloomy
words and troubled looks, Something has
troubled you, poor friend! Can IT comfort
you?’ and she crept nearer, and held ont
her white, trank hand to him, as if that
poor child’s hand could shield Doctor Fan-
chon’s heart from the phantoms which
haunted it.

He took her hand and drew her toa
seat by his side.

‘Don't mind me, good little friend; Tam
only captious and peevish this morning,
[ had no business to come here and dis-
turb your pleasant little tyrst with Dame
Nature. But, Miss Nellie, Lam weary
and sick of this lite, and [ want to tell you
astory. Will you listen to it, little friend?
I can't harrow up my own life. Let me
talk in a parable; and, oh Nellie, listen
with all your heart, for you are to be

once or|judge.’

‘Hush ! dear doctor !—hush !’ said Nellie,
‘You feel troubled. Don’t try to tell me
any story, Just look and listen to all the
beautilul sights and sounds about us here,
Let us talk of pleasant things, and you
will grow as happy and tranquil as you
ought to be on this lovely morning. You
mike my heart ache with your strange,
gloomy way and words!’

‘Listen, Nellie! was all he vouchsafed
in answer: ‘I am going to begin my
story,’ and, holding her hand in his firm
clasp, he began, ina dreary way, halt to
himsell : .

» ‘Once there was a lad, a wayward
young rascal, the pet of the household and
of the plantation, for his parents were
Southerners, und lived on a large estate,
and he was the only child and heir; and so
he was petted, and pampered, and spoiled,
But he had a few redeeming traits. Yes,’
repeated he, earnestly, * upon my soul. [
think the boy had some noble impulses,
and if he had been born a beggar, and had

Nae} ‘ Ld
to ‘rough it,’ he might have been good for

something. As it was, he was a helpless
rogue

* Invery scason his parents took him to

and he knew he had no business to go|the North with them, and as he reached
there, for in his heart of hearts vas a}his teens, his tutor was dismissed, and he

was placed at school in the North, with
friends,
* He fancied books, and mastered them
rapidly, and by the time he was nineteen
had taken up the study of medicine. At
first his family bitterly opposed it, but he
had always had his way, and of course he
pad it thea—and so he kept on in the study
Another year went by, and
tormy evening, as he came out
d ‘hurried toward
iis ladgings, he stumbled over some object
nthe strect. He nearly fell, and turned
s quick as he had gained his footing
vin, to try and see in’ the darkness. and
rain what or who it was,
‘It wasa young girl; she had risen to
her fect and stood under the street-lamp ;
she was wrapped in rags; her blaek,
re thrown back froma
face us beautiful as a Madonna, but so wan
and pate ; and it bore the most heart-broken
expression.
**Oh, what is the matter? asked the
student. ‘Did Lhurtyou? Iam so sor.
ry!
“* She shook her head, and with a feeble
smile turned to go away; but her streneth
failed her, she sank to her knees, and then
she dropped slowly to the walk, her pale
young tuce and clased eyes touching the
wetstones. She had tainted, Quick ae
thought the hoy raised her in his arms
and shouted for help, but the streets were
nearly empty, and he could summon no
one, tilla hack came across the Way, and
signaling the driver, he bore the poor
thing to the carriage door, lifted her in
and alter a moment's consideration, order.
ed the driver to a certain street, where he
knew a good, decent woman, who would
take the Por thing in, he thought, for his
sake, and take care of her.
‘ By this time she had revived a little
and tried to smile her thanks. They soon
reached the door of Mrs. Brown, and he
tily told her all he wanted done for the
sic, as he carried her in with the driver's
aid, and told how he found her, and went
off, promisining to call again in the mam.
ing, and hear her story, when she should
teel able to tell him about herselt.

‘Mrs. Brown was a little reluctant at
first, but the poor girl had fainted away
again, and lay on_ the sofa, looking like b
corpse ; the appeal of that still, marble-like
faee was fowerful, and Mrs, Brown's
motherly heart warmed in spite of herself
to the poor wretched ehild,”

‘The next day, when her protector
ealled, the poor street-waif was delirious
with fever, and kept raving incessant]
about ‘little Rueben,’ and about starvin®
to death,’ and so she tossed in her heayy
fever for three weeks, but her new friends
were as kind as frionds could be,

“In her delirium she called Mys,
‘mother,’ and that carried the wai ioays
heart completely, and an own mother
could not have done more for her,

*As the girl beeatse conval
told them that her name was Ann
that her father and mother had
summer, and left litte Reuben and
all alone; that she had tried to get

, she