The Herald -- 1868-09-02 -- Page 1

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CHARLOTTETOWN,

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EDWARD ISLAND, SEPTEMBER 2, 1868.

14 PRICERD AND PUALIONED evaRY WHR ReDAY MORNING

t + nye
> BDWARD RE
" e BDLTOR AND, PROPRI

ferter

For] year, paid.in adyance,,
_* rs

TERMS FOR THE, ‘HERALD,

RTOR,

at. his Office, Queen Street,

9,0

++. hall-yearlyinadvance,.0 10, 0

i Se asl
Advertisements inserted at the uanal rates,
JOB PRINTING

Of every degcription,

performed with neatness and deapateh

and.on moderate terme, atthe HeRALN Office.

ee;

'

ALMANACK FOR, SEPTEMBER,

MOON 8 PHASES.

Fort. Moox, Ist day, 1th. 45m.,

oven., 5.

TAst Qvatren, 9th day, hh, 52m., even,, 8.
ew. Moos, 16th day, 9h, Tm., morning, N, W.
Finst, Quarren, 24rd, day, 11h. 9m., morn., NW,
a maski ye cc.
SE ob parweer. | 89% | | High|Moon| % 2
oe © tines |sete |Water| sets.! © ©
pen peer “th. mi | ‘h mhom
» 1 Tuesday. 5 22 635)10 24) 6 513 18
2 | Wednesday | 3441 6) 6 59! 8
8-\Tinrsday 28). 3111 68) 7 24) 3
' 4 (Friday 80) -00 even.| 7 50: 0
5’ [Saturday 31/28! 1 0! 8 20.12 57
6 |Snnday | 82/26 1.41] 8 55). Oa
7 |Monday $3) 24' 293). 9.24| 51
8. | Tneaday 34 22) 9, 5.10, 2). 48
9. |Wednesday 35, 20,3 .49)10 50) 45
*10. | Thursday 4, BTpo i BGP 42 42
i) |Priday 38°17 25 morn. 59
12 |Satufday 89; 15 619 0 42 36
13, Sunday +40) 138) 7 24l'1 5a} a8
‘14, Monday 4° }1) 8 9° 2 39! 80
15 | Tuesday 42, 9/9. 5| 4,18)... 27
16, |Wedoesday 43 7} 9.59 sete.: 24
17) |Thorsday | 44 $1055.97 Sy 21
18 (Friday 45; 411.46) 742) 19
‘19 {Saturday 46, 3imorn.| 8 18 17
20 !Sunday 4%) 1/0 93, 847) 14
21 {Monday 495 69) 1 29,928, 11
22 Tuesday 50° 57;2 211012 7%
28% |Wednenday fl) 643121 1) 38
24: |Thursday 52 $1 4 5 5311 59
25. |Friday 53 480 h T)morn. 55
26. /Saturday Sty 46 5 50,0 42 2
27 Sunday 59), 44:.6.55, 140) 49
28 |Monday 56} 43) 7 801.2 86) 47
©9 |'Tucaday * 57) 41) 826 3 36) 44
30 . , oF ic 9 ‘7, 4 35 41

predaadey

ome

ee eeeiaaal

Prices Current.

spt tn a at agi a

Crannorrerown, Augue 25, 1868.

Provisions.
Theef, (amall) ner Ib.
Do by the quarter,
Pork, (carcass)

Do (small)
Mutton, per Ib.,
Lamb: per |b.

Veal. per tb,
Ham. per lb.,
Dintter, (fresh)

:Do by the tab,
Cheoso, per tb.,
Tallow, per |b.
Lard, por th,.

Flour. per 100 Ihe..
Caan per 100 Ibe..
Eggs. per dozen,

Rarley, per, bushel,

Oakes: tr do,
ad Vegetables,
Green Peas, per. quart
Potatoes, per bushel,
new, per peck,
Turnips per doz.

Corse,

Tarkays, cach,
Fow|s,.each, |
Chickens per pair,
Dacks per pair,

Codfish, per qtl..
rieringa ie barrel,
Mackerel, per dozen,

Boards (Memlock)
ae es
Do (Pine

Shingles, per M

Hay, pet ton,
Behe ‘rows
Tiniothy Seed, ©
pie ned Seed, per ot ‘
@aput yard,
Catfeking, per W,
Hitles, per Ib.,

a pe. doz
By
Pantiogen,

Grain.

Poultry.

Fish,

Lumber.

Sundries.

GEORGE

LEWIS, Market Merk.

ARARS
- SMITE,

34a to 7d

S4d te 54)
34 to. 54d.)

Sd.to Bd
4d to Gd
Ad to Ga
Sd to 6d
Gil to 7d
Is tolsid
fd to fd
9d.to 10d

Qda to 250
188 to 218
9d to Is

a to Gs Gd
33 ta 38.6d

Gd to 7d
le od to 20
il to Is
Gd to 10d

none
4s to 7s Gd
Je to 1s Ad
Is 6d to Se
Se

20s to 30s
he to 408
2s 6d to 3s Od

4s

4a 'o 5s
Te*o Os
‘13h te 188

50 to O08
Qe

_ he to Ge

6a to 94

Hts "@@

Ts G6 ta 2
1s G4 to Qe
6d'to 90

BELL-HANGER AND TIN-SMITH.

F,GS_ to toform his friends, and the pablie eneraliy.
he in comme Tusines on Dorches-
, B Maat aan feb 4a tho Tenia adit Isnilding,

whore he js prepared to Pxocute all orders in his line
with ne |

atggas and despatch.
OX NANP,

“dle thowd t of Tinwar
Ae Mittehon Utousile, fee. 0.”

hie oe eht Bow Ton Cor
ceived the Go

of 1867,-" Also

e¢ or on bow

Pee Por, wineh te

Ww
VPhge, at the Paris Exposition
fon tow LANTERNS. which will

bverything fr fhe Market, arid suitable for either
Pap Sine: eayann an

Xinn Codnvns on hind, which to,
apes of thot Block "will be #0

TERM ANS 4s Avonefor SAWYER'S ORYSTAL
Covvoniwednsaett und nes a pyed fp
(whereby nh wuving oftifty: ope

and for which he bogs to solicit the

a

ja pnaran-
nitige of

een

soe sac nk eae tang a nc bt rn a

THE OLD FAVOURITE HOSPITABLE

| BOARDING HOUSE,
At The Mead Or St. Peter's Bay,
Fp ser ddpaetens hy the Tate John Sutherland, Esq.,
7 4 is now ss) ag for the aeeémmodation of travellers,
and the Proprietor solfcits & share of Public Patronage.
o trouble or expense will be spared to, make visitors

comfortable,
‘ ANTIIONY McCORMACK:
Mead of Sf, Peter's Bay, i
June 'l7, 1868,

Commission Zi evchant, 2 uctionecr,

AND
COLLECTING AGENT.
Sonria, Jan'y 2, 1868. lv
CORNS & WARTS
Are Permanently and Effeetually Cured by the use of
ROBINSON'S
PATENT CORN SOLVENT.

For Sale by

W.R- WATSON.
s City Drug Store, Dee, 18, 1867,

R. REDDIN,

Mtorney and Barrister at Daw,

CONVAYTINCER, &.
Office,---Great-George St,, Charlottetown.

(Near the Catholic Cathedral.)
August 22.1866, a Of ce

©o-Partnership Notice.

CO+PARTNERSHIP as BARRISTERS and AT-

ALLEY & DAVIES,
Offiee «+--+ O'IKalloran’s Building.
Great George Street.
GEORGE ALLEY,
LOUIS H. DAVIES.
Oct, 23. 1867. tf

KING STREET.
NEAR WELSH AND OWEN'S OFFICE.
fbb Subecriber returna thanks for paet favors, and
) begs leave to inform his friends, and the public
generally, that he has on hand a

Large Stock of Ready-made Men's
Boots, Shoes and. Gaiters,
Women’s Balmoral; FElas-
tic Side, and other
Boots.

ALSO, 250 pains
Children and Misses Boots,

whieh will be dieposed of low for Cash.
JAMES STANLEY.
Cli'town, 1ith May, 1868,

COTTON DUCK,
TE Subecriber is Acenxr fur the Sale of the
celebrated

Russel Mills Cotton Duck,

and ia prepared to fill all orders for the same, with the
least pyrsible delay,

Alao on hand COTTON BOAT DUCK, and COT-
| TON .DRILLLINGS, enitable for Roat Sails; together
with Cotton Sail Twine, Pure Bee's Wax, &e.

1,C, HALL,

Cl'tewn, May 20, 1868.

DAW SON’S ESTATE.
Iimportant Notice!

HE SUBSCRIBERS have heen instrneted by the

TRUSTEES of W. B. DAWSON’'S ESTATE, to

thde Accounts, or Notes of Hand. to. W. B DAWSON
or GEORGE NICOLL, are not immediately paid,
ALLEY & DAVIES,
Atty's for Trustees of Dawson's Estate.
Ch'town, Feb, 26, 1868,
COPPER. PAINT.
ONSTANTLY on band, Gallon and Ialf Gallon
Cans of
Tarr & Wonson’s Copper Paint,
whieh effectually prevents the action of worms on the
bottoms of Versels and Boats and also prevents the
collection of Barnacles, Grasse, Ke.
I. C. HALL,

Ch'town, May 20, 1868. ay
PACKHT
NETWEEN

SOURIS & CHARLOTTETOWN.

— Oe
Ta Fast-sainrxé and Cowsoprors Schooner “A. FR.
McDowaxn,” wilbran between Sourit & Charlotte-
town, calling at the intermediate ports, its soon as the

navgaition permits.
DOMINICK DEAGLE, Master.
Fannary 29, 1868. ly

MATOS.
Summer Arrangement
ITE Mails for the United Kindgdom, the neighboring
Provineess, the United Statery &e.. will, until further
notice, be closed at the General Post Office, Charlotte-
town, as follows, viz 14-

For Canada. New Brunewick and the United States,
phone a every Tuesday and Friday evening, at 7
o'cloek..

For Nova Sentin. tia Pictou, every Monday, Wednes-
day and Friday evening, at 7 0'élock. t

Mails for Great Britain, Newfoundland and the West
'ndieavevery alternate Monday and Wednesday evening,
at 7 o'clock, as follows, vie:

Manday, May, 18, Monday, September 7;
Wodnesday. do. 20, Wednesday, do 9,
Monday, June ly Monilay, da: (21,
Wellnesday. do 8, Wednesday, do 23,
Monday. do 15, Monday, October, 5;
Wednesday, do. 17, Wednesday, do 4,
Monday, do 29, Monday, do 9,
Vednesday, July. 1, Wednerday,, do 21,
Walang i 18,, oe ee weep ry
edne $ M,, needay, ‘
sine is yt Bey Monday, do 10,
Vednesday, do. 2, Wednesday, do. 18,
Hinadey, Ang. 104 Monday. do 30,
ednesday, da, 12, Wednesday, Deo... 2,
Monday, do, 24, Monday. do, 14,
arena y, do. 26, Wednesday, do. 16,
Maila for deansravs, St. Nleanor's and Bedeque, ta

bo forwa per. Steamer. will. be closedevery Tuesday
and Friday ovening, at,7 o'clock.

And Maile for Georgetown and Souris, per Steamor,
every Friday, cvening,at,7,0'¢look, ’

Laetiers tobe, nae ywared ane neavperers mgt We poste
ed teh hour. before the. time of closing the Mauls.
; oe THOMAS. OWEN,

.Poptmaater Generpl.

TORNIES-AT-LAW. under the name, style and firm of

SUE all parties, without any distinetion, whose unset,

Literature,
“WANTED AT THE GROSS ROADS. —

T was in ahurry to reach home. No wonder ; for
it was the wildest night Thad ever known in my
life, and the country road over which I took my
way was os bad as country reads ingeneral. Con-
sequently I was walking at a great rate, with the
collar of a rough coat over my cars, and a com-
forter tied over my soft hat and under my chin,
to keep it on and #0 proteet my cars, When, sud-
denly, a man stood full in my path and caught me
by the arm,

‘Tinto,’ said he, ‘ You're just in time 5 you are
wanted at the Cross roads to-night.’

The voice was the voice of a ruffian,

] fancied myself attacked by a highwayman, |
stood quite still, and strove to show him by my
manner that T was able to protect myself,

‘What the déuce am 1 wanted at the Cross
roads for?’ said J, ‘Unless I choose it would
be hare to get me there.’

But instead of producing a pistol and demand: |

ing my money or my lile, the man answered in
altered tones +

‘ Beg pardon, I made a mistake, 1 thought it
was my brother, and TP wanted to frighten him,
Bad night, sir.’
| * Very,’ anid]:
| * You don't know the time?’ he asked.
is. Tt was seven when I left the train at L———.,’
|] said, ‘
| § Thank ye,’ said the man. ‘Good! night.’
If his object had beén robbery, probably he had

poot a inan to be worth the trouble,

* But, after all,’ I said, ‘ probably he spoke the
truth. A man, may haye such a voice without
being a highwayman, no doubt,’

under shelter, and partaking ofa warm and savory

pe ner,

] ly mother was there, and my brother Ben.
Ben was a great strapping fellow, who could beat
any other youth of his age for miles round if it
came to wrestling or boxing, and as good-humored
a boy as ever lived—a boy aly-ays to mother ; and

|] think he had exercised his right to vote in one |

| cleetion,
| When suppor was over, and we had chatted for
jan hour, we went up stairs together,

We shared one room,

The moment Ben’s head touched the pillow he
always went tosleep. That night 1 fellowed his
example.
| Butl did not sleep long without a dream-—-a
| dream in which I felt a rough grip on my arm, and
j was roused by a voice crying in my ear:
| *Wake np. You are owanted at the Cross
lroads.’ .

It was so real, so palpable, that when I started,

broad awake, | actually believed that some one
| wan in the room—the man who hal met me on
the road, perhaps, and who intended robbery or
violence, But when I had arisen an‘ lit a lamp,
the room was einpty, cxeeyit myself, and Ben
snoring on his pillow.

I went to the door; it was Tocked. T went to
was all ] heard. T even wenteacross the passage
to my mother’s room, She was awake. There
had heen no nnnsual sound, she was sure,

Only a dream born by meeting with the strange
man upon the road, 1 felt sure, had awakened me.

I went to hed and fell asleep again. Again 1
was awakened by the same words; this time
shrieked in my car by an unearthly voice.

‘Wakeup, wake up, wakeup. Yonare wanted
at the Cross’ toads.’

T was on my feet once more, and caught Ben's
jhand as he eame towards my bed.

‘What.aila yon?’ he criedy, _

‘Nothing,’ said I. ‘Did you hear a voice.’

‘Yours,’ said Ben, ‘yelling wake up. You
fairly frightened me.’

‘Ben,’ snid 1, ‘wait until Tlight the lamp. 1
heard another voice.
the house or outside.’

So we lit the lamp and searehed in vain.

‘ Nightmare,’ pei Ben, when I told) him my
story,

‘Ben,’ saidh 1, what isthere at the Crossroads?’

« XN house,’ said Ben,

Tie had lived in the neighborhood a long while,
and T not loig.

“« One little howse, besides two oak trees and a
fence, An old man.lives, there—a rich old fellow
and abit of a.miser, they, say. His grand;daughter
keeps hovse for him.’

‘Ben,’ saidiI, ‘that fellow: may have meant
|harm to them, T may ‘be wanted) at the: Cross

roads,’ '

« Brothor,’ said Bon, * go to sleep. ‘You liad a
nightinare.’

And Ben plunged. in between the blankets and
was soon, snoring again.

],,also,. in. ten; mintites, sleptas soundly as be-
fore; but the awakening came again.

I opened my éyes to see a girl standing, at the
foot of my bed—a girl in white robes with hair all
about her slioulders, who wrang ‘her hands and
cried:

“Oh,. wake up, wake up; you are wanted at
the Cross reads, ' ?

This time J started out of bed ina cold perapiry
ation, I trembled like a Jeaf. 1} had no dowbt
that } had received supernatural warning.

‘Bon,’ 1 cried, “Ben, for the third time T have
been told ‘that T am wanted ‘at’the ‘Cross roads,
and J am going,’

And 1 began to dress as speedily as possivle,
listening the while to the, storm raging madder
and aan than at any period since its commence:
ment.

Ben renionattated with mo: im vain.
he also began to huddle on ‘hig elothes

‘If you haye gone ad: T mtiat fo with you and
take Care of yon,” ho, gaid, ‘But fancy another
man. going out in, a storm like this. to the Cross
roads becatse a nightmare advised him to ado.so,
and what would. you think of him?’

Tewdid nothing. | AJL could’ hate’ miswered
wold haye been?’ ee

1” 3

‘Jam, compelled to mov. let ge Ldore not

-Tefuse, whatever maybe thought.ef me.’

So I went on homeward, andsoon found myslif

the window ; the rush of rain against the panes)

There must be some one in!

At last!

In ten minates we were splashing througl: mud
and rain along the road,

It was perfecthy dark ; now and then @ red star
in the ‘distance told us that a lamp was gleaming
through the rain in somn cottage window, but
otherwiee. we would not have been conscious of
our proximity to any habitation whatever.

At last nearing the spot where the road. from
| 8--— crossed the road to P—-—, wo were indeed
in as solitary a place as could be well imagined,

The house, which abutted on the very’ angle of
the roads, called in the familiar parlance the
Oross'roads, was the only one for some distance
in either direction, and certainly on sucha night
we were not likely to meet, with many, travellers,

All was silent.as the grave. We stood quite
still... In a moment Ben.broke out in one of his
merriest langhs—

‘Well,’ he said, ‘how now?
and have another nightmare ?*
| But hatdly had the words escaped his lips
lwhen a shriek broke on the air, and a woman’s

Will you go home

| yoice, plainly coming from the interior of the cot |

| tage, cried:

| ‘Help, help, help!’

| ‘Ben,’ said I, ‘we were wanted at the Cross
| roads,’

| And then, erch undersinnding the other, with-
font more words we made our way to a window
through which a light. shone, A muslin curtain
depen the panes, but throngh it we saw an awful
| sight,

; .An old man lay on the floor, and over him bent
;aruffian clutching his throat, and holding a pistol
| to his ear, while another man grasped a shrieking
| girl by the arm—a girl in a floating night dress—

HF. SUBSCRIBERS havo thie day entered into | decided from my rough mufilers that T was too | with such long golden hair as belonged to the

woman of my vision.

Not. a moment was to be wasted,

Ben flung his weight against the slender laitice
and crushed it in, and we had grappled with the
ruffians before they knew whence the attack came
or how many foes were upon them.

] do not intend to describe the strnzgle ; indeed
Teould not if I wonld. But we were both strong
men, arid inspired by the cries of the helpless old
man and the terrified girl, soon had one of the
villians bound and the other lying hors de combat.

Then Ben’ started for assistance, and before
morning both were confined in jail, Ben admitting,
jas we shook cach other by the hand, that we were
‘wanted at the ‘Cross roads,’

The old man was not a miser, but he had saved
some few thonsands for his old age, and living
more plainly than he need have done had given
rise to the rumor and so brought the burglars to
} the Oross roads in the hope of a booty.

The girl, a beautiful creature of seventeen, was
his grand-daughter; and as no story is acceptable
to the lady reader without a flavor.of romance, I
will tell them that she became in after years, not
my wife, as.the vision seems to indicate, but the
wile of my darling brother Ben.

re a

Selections:

mew = lta tated tae

THE DANGEROUS STATE OF THE COUNTRY
-—TITE PROSPECTS AHEAD.

[From the New York Jerald.)

|

We.are going the way of other democracies‘
empires and republics, and the:historical porspec-
live is picturesque with the rnins of one more
grand attempt to govern justly failing through
‘haman passion. Seeming in the very heyday of
life and the blaze of glory, we are ‘treading irre-
voenhlo steps towards calamity. Onur great. po-
litical contest assumes a character that indenti-
, fies it with the political contest. that blackens a
{hundred years of Roman history. Should the
idemocracy win we pereeive by its declarations
and by the spirit in which it receives every en-
lconragement, such as the Kentucky triumph,
| whither its victory mustcertainly too driveus. But

|

less gracions humility. Now it. threatens, and

}nance and reacts inthe boldness of its utteranecs.
| And it is possible that it’ may win. Kentucky
goes forthe democracy, it is true, by a larger
majority than the last clection, but we doubt if it
lis safe to draw from a Kentucky election on sucha
jfact any augury in favor of the election, of Sey-
j}mour. If the ideas that have given Kentucky to
| the democrats by seventy thonsand majority have
|hold of the minds of the whole Southern people,
as there is-all reason to sippose they may, and if
the eraft that lately put Wade’ Hampton on the
democratic’ stump between two niggers shall con-
tinue to temper chivalry, the South may go very
largely for the Blair ticket, and the election
would be the closest possible contest. It. might
be so. close, indeed, as to make the result practi-
cally indeeisive before the people, and from avery
close struggle, from a doubtfalresult, or from a
democratic triumph, would flow new turmoil for
the nation, new danger, perhaps absolute anar-
chy, .

Excitement raises jv view of such possibilities,
and the passions of partisans rise. with it;
and we hear public men refer to their sopponents
in terms that point to the growing fury, whose
full height we contemplate in Marianas, Sytla and
Cima.” What reason have we to congratulate
ourselves that we aré beyond the
repeating these bloody pages of political story?
The greator humanity of the nineteenth. century,
perhaps. Bat before we trast ourselves ‘to that,
show na something from’ antiquity worse ‘than
| Libby Prison or Andersonville, and wipe out the
| fact that Paris, less thar! ¢ century sitice, repeated
the horrors of Rome with multiplied barharits,
|The Ronan tropublic had its rebell

| had ours, and thonght.as we did, that it was. put
‘down, when the politicians of the dominant.party
j settled the great land question in. their own way
land established the State on a now ‘constitation.
} Alas! that erid was the beginning of Roman
troubles, and tliat reliellion was onty the first
event In a deriés of ¢ivil wata 4nd revolutions,
pwhich the men, who lived a hundred years later
saw still in, progress, ag Cosor and Pompoy haut-
ed one at oe ongh the knewn eine 2 Fraace
aleo began in. 4789.0 revolution that is not closed

O00», ©} ee a ee ne :

conducted.

\a little while ago it assumed a certain more or|

every indication that the people listen patiently , ¢ ; ines
jor that they seem to sympathize gives it counte-| mind to forfeit all its prestige in the Rast.

yet—that has had its phases of democracy, mo-
narchy and military empire, and now only halts
in a despotism standing on universal 6 + %
| great army and an enormous debt. Great politi-
cal throes such as our rebellion and war, seem to
leaye nations calm becanse they leave them ¢x>
hausted, and.in the truce.of that quiet the ele-
ments only gather strength to renew the fight.
Our rebellion also will appear in history as only
the first of a series of political revolutions, and
the end may be anywhere.--Mexico herself may
be a respectable Power besides what the United
States will appear when political anarchy has
done its worst. It is for the people to determine
whether the storm of war shall reopen next year
in the accession of Seymour to the Presidency,
or whether an immense majority for Grant shall
lengtlien the truce for four years. ;
Nothing less than the moral effect of an im-
mense majority for Grant will quiet the nation,
and this as we say, will only lengthen the trace;
for whatever the result our future is simply a:se-
ries of strifes between these embittered
'made savage by the blood of the war, With alf
| her internal straggles brexking her down Rome
was still great abroad—extending her arms, her
political system, her civilization over the world.
She appeared to be no less prosperous than great,
and even when the struggle was over the people
thought they were still living in the glories of the
old republic, governed by thé Senate, with only
anexeeutive in the Emperor. It was a rude!
awakening from such a dream, but it had to come,
and we also will awaken some day to perceive
ourselves in the same position. This or that,
! party-—whichever may happen to be in power—
| will divert attention from its schemes by. the
same splendid pursuit of foreiga wars, by the
same system of subduing its neighbors, until our
dominion shall be nominally supreme over the
whole Continent, and our civilization, laws and’
enlightment shall penetrate to every country, lay-
ing the foundation of States to be carved from
the ruins of the great republic, as modern En-
rope was carved from the Roman empire, We.
have entered upon a carecy in which no nation of
the past was ever able to stop midway.

| FRENCH VIEW OF THE CAMPAIGN IN
ABYSSINIA.

A writer in the last ‘number of the Revue dee
Deuz Mondes oad Blerzy), after giving a history
of the Abyssinian campaign from beginning to:
end, closes his article with the following obser-
i vations :—Such has been this war in y\ Ra + ol
lwhich was so diverscly judged in France
even in England during the eight months it last-
ed. Some considered it as a proof of yearning
after military renown, and others a pretext for an-
| nexation founded on most fatile motives. Long-
sighted’ politicians detected perfidious’ machina-
tions, cartied on in secret for many years, and
ending all at once in the occupation of Abyssinia
at the very moment when the cutting of,
the. Isthmus of Suez Canal seemed to’ in
crease the influence of France. Nothing of all
this is trae, The facts show clearly that’ no one
jin England wished for the expedition ; and that

Abyssinia itself held but a sceondary place in the
thoughts of English statesmen to the day when
the struggle became inevitable. What would the
English go to seck in that country? A port?
The coast does not possess one that could be.a
strategical position in the Red Sea. A’ market?
Markets are not: won'by arms. colonise? The seacoast is unhealthy, and the in-’
terior is difficult of access. The question of
Abyssinia became serious because it was badly
It will be compared to those slight
maladies which are negleeted in the beginning,
;and which terminate in a sudden catastrophe the
moment it is least expected. After the chivalrous
enterprises of Consul Plowden came the impru-
dence of Consul Cameron, and after‘the mishapa of
Consul Cameron the ill judged embassy of Mr.
Rassan. At the point to which things had reach-
ed the British Government, was constrained to
have recource to force, unless it made up its
This
prestige is the mainspring of its policy, both in
Africa and in Asia, It is by it that it imposes its
rule on 180 millions of Tlindoos, and, with a fow
ships, protects. its subjects on the coast. of both
continents, It could not hesitate ; at any cost it
had to overthrow King Tlieodere.

The writer quotes the order of the day issued
by Gen. Napier after the taking of Magdala .ad
the trne histary given in a few words of this
campaign, so short, and sosuccesafally terminated,
which has won him renown so great and so legiti-
mate,and for whichall England feels an enthasiasm
which ls easy to comprehend. There is, of course,
some little criticism offered. The writer obrerves:
The English had one object in entering Abyssinia ;
that object once attained by the shortest way,
they withdrew without any regard as to what
may come to pass after them. But is there not
in this simple and methodical fashion of treating
affairs a cortain selfishness which we Frenchmen
are incapable of appreciating? At: the cost: of
some complications, the extent of which it would
not have been embarrassing to limit, we should
have desired before quitting the country to leave
to the Ethiopians other memorials than the rains
of Magdala; we should have seconded the sin-
cere efforts of the princes, the heirs of the van-

ssibitity of/quished monarch, to aid this ill-fated kingdom in

retting ont of its anarchy. However glorious
this war for the army that took partin it, it has:
closed without any effective result for tle nation’
that carried it'on. England is avenged ; bat that
is all. From her vengeance she derives no ad-
vantage to compensate her for the five or six
millions sterling it has cost her, The

duty of
ion, as we have | humanity towards the unfortunate tribes os

territory she invaded has not taken inte con-
sideration for ote instant, A ‘the de

of the English the fate of ther Al inians, rid of
a detestable tyrant, ie as uricertain as ever. Tt
may ‘éven be said that the condoct of Theodore,
whose last days were not without a certain

devir, might havo been (ferent had he
treated from the oute>t with more regard, Trae,

yit may be objected, that an empire, or @ centra-
jlized monarchy, does not sait these barbariatia;
jand that in their low dogree of civiliaxtion the”

ou