Summerside Baucnal. Vol. 3. : Summerside, Prince Edward Island; Thursday, August 20, 1868. No. 46. THE Summerside Journal, 18 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY EVENING, BY JOSEPHBERTRAM, AT HIS OFFICE, CENTRAL STREET, TERMS: by copy for one year, in advance, 6s. 8d. $ 1 halfadvance, 7s. 6d. i Ny atthe end of year 9s. Persons getting up cLuns of ren Subscribers will be entitled to the Journat for one year. ADVERTISEMENTS. inserted at moderate rates andin good style. Sruciau Acrerments may be made on reasonable terms for a whole, a half, or quar- ter column, or by the year. Job Printing sof every description, performed with neatness and despatch, and at moderate rates, at the Jounnat Office. Almanac for August, 1868. MOON'S PHASES. Full Moon, ¢d day, 7h 39m, morn. b. the han. Last Qtr., 11th day, 8h. 15m., morn,bearing E. New Moon, 18th day, 12h. 69m,, morn. b, han First Qtr.24th day, 8h. 34m., eve. bearing W. v|. | SUN | Sun sun’sjmoon|days $s | slow. dee. alee |risesisets. clock’north| sets | len. | jh m|h mj m s |] {hmjhm 1jSat )4 47)7 25] 6 2Q)17 54; 3 1714 36 2Sun | 48] 24) 5 57)/17 38} rises) 35 8)Mo 49] 23) 6 63:17 23) 7 26, 84 4lTue | 60] 22) 6 47/17 | 7 bY 32 BiWed| 51) 21! 6 41/16 40) 8 26 30 6} Tha| 52! 19] 5 8d|/16 34) 8 56) 27 Fri |4 53/7 17, 6 27/16 17] 9 21 24 8 Sat 54) 16] 5 20,16 0) 9 49] 21 9 Sun 55! 14) & 11/15 43/10 17/14 19 10) Mo 56} 13) 6 3/16 2510 50) 17 11) Tue 67} 11) 4 6815 TLL 23 l4 12|\Wed} 59) 10| 443114 49! morn} 11 qalThu ls oO} gi 4 aslid si/0 6! 9 14 Eri 1] 74921141211 0| 6 ysiSat | 217 6] 4 10|13 54] 2 0 t 16)Snn | 8]. 4] 3 58/18 OG a 17|Mo 4 2) q 46/43 sets. /13 58 18)Tue 5} 0) 3 33,13 46) 7 26, 55 19] Wed 616 58} 3 19)12 36' 8 2 52 20) Thu 7} 57) 3 bz 8 36! 60 oilkri 15 8] 46, 2 51/11 47/9 6} 48 22)Sat | 9 bal 2 gojil 9 43] 46 23)Sun 10; 52) 2 20j/11 16)10 16 42 24|Mo 12} 60] 2) 4/10 10-53 38 25|Tue 13; 49) 1 48/10 35)11 36 36 26) Wed] 14)6 47) 1 31]10 14/morn)13 33 e7) Chi 14} 45! 1 14, 9 53) O 24 BY gsiFri 15 17| 43) 0 a7 9 32/1 6| 26 29/Sat 18} 41) 0 391 9 1u12 2 23 Solsun | 19] 39] 0 21] 8 49) 2 54) 20 81!Mo 20! 87] 0 2] 8 27] 8 48] 16 August 18. Oats per bush ------ ee neeee 8s Gd Potatoes (new) per bush ds Turnips per bush ------ Is 3 Butter per lb by Tub -- Is a 13d Lard per lb --- 10d a 11d Tallow Fe -- 9da it Eggs per doz ----- Reet perib 4d a 5c Mutton: per tb sce s <2 eer ss° 8d a 4d Pork per lb by carcass - ->---~- 34d a Sd Flour per bbl -- 453 a 50s Oatmeal per cwt. -- 183 0 20s Hay per Ton -- -- 60s a 608 Pine Boards - - see 10s wee 4s abs Spruce Boards - Business Qards BANK OF PRINCE EDWARD ISLANI Corner of Queen § Water Sis., Charlottetown President—Hon. Danive Brenan. Cashier—Witiiam Cunpatr, Esquire. Discount Days—Mondays & Thursdays. Hours of Business—lom 10 a.m. to L p.m, from 2 p.m to 4 p.m. UNION BANK. Grofton St., Queen's Square, Charlottetown President—Cnantes Parser, Esquire, Cashier—James Anperson, Esquire. Niscount Days—Wednesdays & Saturdays. Hours of Business—From 10 a.m to Lp m., from 2 p.m to 4pm. SUMMERSIDE BANK. Central Street, Summerside, DP. E. Island w#resident—Hon. Joun R. Ganviner. Cashier—E. L. Lroiarp, Esquire Discount Days—Tuesdays and Fridays. Notes for Discount must be in before 11 o'clock on Discount days. afours of Business—10 a. m., to 1 p,m. from 2 p. m., to 4 p.m. Business GQards, HANFORD \3ROTHERS, Successors to omag* Hanford, Commission \Merchants, And Genoral Agents. li NORTH WHARF, ST. JOHN, N, B., Chas. U. Hanford ... teberele Fred.S.Hapford. C. BRE Ds, sale Dealer in Groceries. Importer and Whi British & Sorei 1, Head ST. JOHN, - Dec. 6, 1867. ly J. H. ALLEN, Commission / Merchant, And Dealer in Brovisions, &c, MARKET STREET, Sti ‘John, N. B. }<@™ Gives personal attention to the Sale and Purchase of every description of Goods, May 9, 1868. WILLIAM DODD, Commission Merchant, And Auctioneer, QuEEN 4Q RE, CWARLOTTETOWN- ol ISLAND JABEZ HUDSON, Authorized tioneer, GENERAL AGENT, &e., TRYON, «8 see Vee Pe eed; June 27, 1867. WILLIAM BEAIRSTO, Commission Merchant, Aluctioneer & General Agent, WATER STREET, Summerside, ------ epee 2, Leland, Jun, 21, 1868. James Greenough, FL OUR Gamieny erchant. No 47 Commercial Street Corner of Clinton Street -- - - - BOSTON R&S WwW. 2. BOND, Gowmission MWlerchants, GENERAL AGENTS AND AUCTIONEERS. SALESROOM/ AND OFFICE Head of Queen's Wharf. (opposite the Store of Wm. T. Lunt & Co.) Summerside, P. E. Island. April 2 1868 ly CARVELL BROTHERS, AUCTIONEERS, Commission | Merchants, And General Agents, BANK BUILDING, QUEEN STREET, Charlottetown, - - + - - P.E, Island ROCKLIN HOUSE, {Kent Street, Charlottetown, SIMON D. FRASER, BROPRIETOR. Permanent and Trahsignt Boarders will find the above wa A) give satisfaction. Ch’town, June 13, 1868. “North British and Mercantile INSURANCE COMPANY. FIRE AND LIFE. Established 1809. CAPITAL: TWO MILLIONS, Sterling. HEAD OFFICES: EDINBURGH & LONDON. “G. W.DeBLOIS, Agent at Charlottetown. Charlottetown, June 20, 1868.—ly THOMAS KELLY, Barrister - at - Law and?" NOTARY PUBLIC, &o. SUMMERSIDE, - - -:- Pp. KE. ISLAND. aug 9, 1866 NEW BRUNSWICK. DR. JARVIS a Has Removed His Residence to the House Mr McKinlay) mextto Tho , Esq., St Eleanor'’s. He may be cénsulted’every forenoon at the Drog Store of W. T. HUNT & Co., Summer side. It. Eleanor’s, May 18, 1868. KiTSON CASEY, MD,, Physician, Surgeon & Accoucheur formerly Assistanh/ Surgeon in the U. 8. Navy, offers his essional services to the people of Summ and vicinity. He can be consulted at fis offige, over the Store of Mesers Green& Schurman, in Sunmerside. June 13, 1867. tf Dh. J. PRICE, Physician & Surgeon, Orrick—At the Sc\ymepstpe Drue Store, next door ank, Central Street SUMMERSIDE, fr P. B. ISLAND. October 12, 1865, \ Co-Partnérship Notice. rf bee Subscribers have this day entered into CO-PARTNERSHIP as BARRISTERS and ATTORNIES-ATSLAW, under the name, style and firm of ALLEY & D. OFFICE,—O'HALLOR A. W. ANDRES, Marble Worker, MONUMENTS, TOMBS, GRAVE- STONES, &c., &e. AMERICAN AND IraLiaN~ManbLe con- stantly on hand, ~~ Can furnish Gravestones and Monuments ata Joss price than any other gstablishment in the Provinces, and pay & duty besides, Oxpwrs can be left at Bextram’s Book Store and at D, Exatan’s, Esq., Summerside, or sent to A. W. ANDRES. Point Du Chene, June 11th, 1868. Barber Shop! MPVUE subscriber respectfully announces to the ; eople of Summerside, and the public in general, that he has op BARRER SHOP ! on Water Street, in the roo Adjoining the Post Offive, where he is pre| ed to do all work appertaining to hisprofession. Beat assortment of fN Hair Oils, Hair Restofers, Footh Powders, Dyes; &c., \, 4 on hand on the most reasonableterms po CRYSTAL BLUE also for sae 2 ta’ Razors carefully pus in order 261 CHAS. OTTO WINKLER. Point Du Chene, Shediac N. B. | rN PO tr sr: sl bag subgeriber would beg to call the at- tention of the travelling public to this well-known and favorite Hotel, situated at the Head of the Railway Wharf, at Point Da Chene, N. B. Its advantages as a residence for parties in quest of health cannot be surpassed. ‘The airis pure, bracing and, invigorating, while there is every facility fot Ogee sea bathing. The trains for St. John leave the door twice every day. The chipges will be found moderate; the table good y and the proprietor hopes by strict attentionto the requirements of his customers, to ensure general satisfac- tion. 3 , d@™ Passengers landing frdm the steamer in the morning can gét breakfast before leay- ing in the 7 o'clock train. \ PETER SCHURMAN, Proprietor. P. §.—Being himself a P. E. Islander, the Proprietor would hereby respectfully request a share of the Island patronage. Pt, Du Chene, june 18, ’63. £3 Ts, 6d. The Celebrated Common sense amily Sewing Machine. Improved and Perfected. 3m EVERY MACHINE WARRANTED FOR FIVE YEARS, For elegance of Finish it has no Rival, High Price or Low. Simple, Durable, Compact, and Cheap, Tho Celebrated Common Sense Family Sewing Machine i d to the public, with all i wel! be combined in a bor and pains buve been hine into the very high. It is vil to bring this M in the scale of cknowledyed by the best judges to stand entirely above aud beyond any cheap Machine ever pro- ewing Machines. thing that can be sewed on any ing inthe tind, just as nicely aud It wall sew/from Swiss Musiin up r Cloth, at the rue of twelve hundred stitches per minute, i This machine has a nee of feeding appar: atus, Which makes the MaghinieSelt-cuiding. The cloth, without the aid /of eithersband, will run 48 true as when guided by Barnain’s self This is an ndviyfta e not possessed by any machine in the/world, high price or low. ‘This is one reason why this Wachine is so eusily managed by childven.” A girl with one band ean tse it more successfully than she could ordinary muchines with two bands, This Machine will stitch, Hem, Fell, tuck, Quilt, Cord, Bind, Braid, and embroider in a most super: jor manuer, Printed Instructions, German or English, Screw Driver, Hammer, Oil Can, Four Needles, and Table Chuup, accompany each Muchiue without extra cost. These Machines can be seen at [arvie’s Book Store. HENRY A. HARVIE, Agent for P, E. Island, June, 25 1863.—3m P. i. aS: Steam Navigation Co's, “PRINCESS OF WALES” AND “ HEATHER BELLE.” The Steamer “Princess of Wales” ILL leave CHARLOTTETOWN for PICTOU every TUESDAY and THURSDAY morning at 5 a.nx, in time for ARLOTTETOWN evening, 1 IL00D every noon, immediately after arrival of Train from Halifax, returning to Pictou the following morving. Leaves CILARLOTTE TOWN every TUNSDAY and FRIDAY night for SUM- MERSIDE and SHEDIAC, at 74 p.m. Will connect with Wednesday and Saturday morn- ing’s ‘Train's . Leaves SHEDIAC for SUMMERSIDE and CHARLOTTETOWN every WEDNES- DAY and SATURDAY afternoons, imme- diately after arrival of ‘Train from St, John, The Steamer “Heather Belle” Leaves CHARLOTTETOWN at 8 a.m., every Saturday morning tor PICTOU, Leaves PICTOU at 9 a. m., same day, for MURRAY HARBOR, GEORGETOWN and SOURIS, remaining at either Souris or Georgetown over Sunday, Leaves PICTOU every MONDAY for CHARLOTTETOWN, ater arrival of ‘Traiv from Halifax. FARES: Charlottetown to Pictou, or back, £0 12 0 Pictou to Georgetown, ‘* 0 og le Port Hood, “ 012 0 Ch'town to Summerside, ‘ 09%9 0 a Shediac, AM 018 0 a St. John, “ $4.50 0r1 8 14 . Eastport, er G00 Lit © id Portland, * 8.00 210 0 ‘“s Boston, * 900 216 8 a Halifax, 2 40 2 6 6 “ Port Hood, “ 1. € 06 st Georgetown, ‘ 090 ahs Souris, Why 012 0 F. W. HALES, Sec’y. May 21, 1868. Wool! Wool! MWE STANFIELD WOOLEN MILLS at TRYON, having been thoroughly recon- structed and enlarged by additional machin- ery and Steam Power, will continue to manu- facture Cloth from custom w as hereto- fore, and at the usual rates. Hing doubled their facilities forsnanyfacturing, and procu- red skillful opergtive: r every department, the Company fgel q fent of giving their customers gregter tion generally, by manufacturing a bettr quality of Cloth, and making quicker returns for wool left with them. In addition to the various kinds of CLOTH previously made, they are mahufac- turing SEVERAL NEW STYLES FOR MEN'S WEAR, and full width Blanketing. pa" Wool, which must be clean washed, free of mute and coarse locks, and of good quality, may be left at Hon, H.J. Callbeck’s, Cherlottetown, or at the niill. STANFIELD) WOOLEN CO. Summerside, Jan 30, 1868. Tryon, May 14, 1868. [mal PORRTY. DEEP-SEA SOUNDINGS. Mariner, what of the deep? This of the deep: Twilight is there, and solemn, chanyeless calm. Beuuty is there, and tender heuling balu— Balm with no root in earth, or sea, or air: Poised by the finger of God it tloateth free, And, as it treadeth the waves, the sound doth rise, Hither shall come no further sacrifice : Never ayain the anguished clutch at life, Never aguin great Love and death in strife ; He who huth suffered all need feur no more, Quiet his portion now forevermore. Mariner, what of the deep? ‘This of the deep: Solitude dwells not there, thongh silence reign ; Mighty the brotherhood of loss and pain ; There 1s comintinion past the need of speech, There is a loye uo words of love can reach ; Heavy the waves thut superincumbent press, But as we labor here with coustunt stress, Hand doth bold out to hand, not help alone. But the deep bliss of being fully known. There are no kindred like the kin of sorrow ; There is no hope like those fear who no morrow, Mariner, whut of the deep? This of the deep: Though we haye travelled past the line of day, Glory of night doth light us on our way, Radiance that comes we know not how or whence, Rainbows without the rain, past duller sense, Music of hidden reefs and waves long past, ‘Thanderous orgun tones from far-olf blast, Hurmouy, victrix, throned in stute sublime, Couched on the wrecks be-yemmed with pearls of Time; Never a wreck but brings some beauty here; Down where the waves are stilled, the sea shines clear, Deeper than life the plan of life doth lie, He who knows all fears nougbt. Great death shull die, Select Miterature. MY FIRST AND LAST GAME [conciupeEp. | Av length, when morning had fairly dawned, 1 stole back to my hotel, jaded and worn, und crept to my restless bed Alter a feverish and uneasy slumber 1 awoke, and again prepared to renew my search, 1 visited the most wretched parts ol the town, Where want and vice stood forth in every shape, Faces pinched by fumine tlitted betore me, but not hers—not the wasted but gentle features of that young, sleeping gul, who like a pitying angel hud barred the door which led to my destruction, Where was she? Per- haps wee, lug by the side of sonie miser- alle pallet, her tears tailing on the haggard cheeks of her dying mother—that mother for whom she had wandered forth on a bleak wintry night to solicit the charity of strangers, Pursued by these spectral tan- cies, 1 continued my scareh till past mid- night, and then,fairly overcome by fatigue, L returned to my hotel. A week elapsed, and every day my search had been renewed but all my efforts to discover the slightest trace of the young girl were unavaling, A teeling of hupeless despair took possession of my mind, and 1 began to fear my sin was destined to walk like a remorseless shadow forever beside me, In my extremity I applied to the po- lated so closely to tue usual appearance of mendicants, that their aid was valueless. A month passed by, and the end of De- cember wis approaching. ‘Lhe winter had set in with unusual severity, and the earth was covered with snow, As 1 was walking through a remote street in the suburbs of the towa, I paused to look over the low wall of a Protestant -burying- ground. With a feeling of listless cariosi- ty Lwas reading the inscriptions on the various headstones, when suddenly the chapel bell began to toll out its mourning peal. TI opened the little gate, and passing through a small avenue of leafless trees, walked among: t the graves, ‘Lhe rays of the wintry sun glittered on the snowy mounds, sprinkling them with a gem-like brightness, Whe vurial ground was large and densely strewn with its human har- vest. At length I came upon anew made grave, dug in a solitary corner, where the earth lay tlat around, with the exception ot one lonely hillock. ‘here was a sha- dowy gloom about the spot, even the snow that lay there, seemed to have lost its whiteness, and in some places had dritted away, leaving dark, yendureless patches. The chapel bell was tolling its last sum- mons a8 Lreached the graye and looked into its narrow abyss. An irresistible de- sire to see the collined form lowered into its lust resting-place, took possession of me. Why, 1 wondered, had that secluded spot been chosen, away even from the companionship of death? Was this a hu- man weed, unworthy to perish beside those other human flowers? A thousand ques- tioning thoughts crept into my brain, when 1 was abruptly started from ny reverie by the solemn voice of the clergyman reading the tuneral service. Looking round my eyes tell on a plain coflin, borne alung the winding pathway leading to the chapel. One young girl, miserably clad, was the sole weeping Mourner, At a slow men sured pace the little procession reached the grave, and the rude, undecorated shell was lowered into the vault, As I watched the small, slender form, quivering under its ccushing weight of anguish, it recurred to my mind that that form was familiar to me. At length the ceremony was over, and the clergymen and bearers retired from the scene, leaving the wretched mourner still standing by the grave. Alter a pause she knelt down, and then the hood that had partially concealed her face tell back. As L caught a glimpse of its wan outline, fringed with a few scant tresses of golden hair, I no longer doubted that it was the face of the poor girl for whom I had been so anxiously seeking. Was that the moth- er, I mused, of whom she had murmured in her dream on that fatal night, and who now lay cold and still in that narrow gap of earth? Ifso, how much had the rath- less act that robbed her of that piece of gold to answer tor! ‘Chat little coin might have spared the mother’s life to the lonely ozphan, or at least have shed’ a transient lice, but my description of the girl assimi- | P gleam of comfort into their wretched home. With difficu!ty I conquered the impulse to steal beside her with some whispered word of solace, but her grief seemed so sacred, so pure, that I dared not intrude upon it, lest I should profane it. When her prayer was ended she rose; and then, as she cast a wild, farewell look into the grave, alow, smothered sob broke from her lips, and thrilled through the wintry air. Slowly turning away, instead of tak- ing the path leading from the burial ground, she bent-her footsteps to the one lonely mound a few paces dist. nt from the open grave, Again her grief was hushed in silent prayer, again the pale, pinched face was raised towards heaven, Did those two graves then contain the dear ones whose smiles had once given joy to her childhood, robbed poverty ot its sting, and given an envious splendor of affection to the chilling abode ot want? At length she rose again, and with a heavy, reluctant step, glided away. 1 was about to follow her, when some inexplicable fancy im- peiled me to look once more into the open grave. ‘The sexton was already preparing to fill it up as I neared its brink. Looking down into its narrow vortex, a shuddering sense of horror darted through my frame as L read the inscription on the coflin-lid: “Janu STorNaway,” Died December 19, 185—. AGED 21,” The earth soemed for a moment to slide from under me, and surrounding objects grew suddenly dark, Collecting every energy, I quickly recovered myself, and hurrying rapidly in the direction taken by the solitary mourner, 1 soon caught a vlimpse of her through the avenue ot leat- less trees. Keeping ut a guarded distance I followed on her track, with the sternest, hardest conflict warring at my heart that { had ever felt, Jane Stornaway dead! 1 mechanically repeated the words with an utter insensibility of their meaning. — 1 seemed like one walking in a dream, and gvew unconscious of the passing reulities of lile, Alter traversing a network of by-streets and lunes, the young girl entered a small court, and ascended a spiral staircase, leading to the upper story of an humble lodging- house; before she could reach the door my hand was on her shoulder, and as I drew the hood back from her head, my glance tell on the pau, worn, yet still beautiful face of Eda, «Have you forgotten me?” T asked, in answer to her questioning gaze. **T do ngt know you, sir,” she sighed, with a wistful shake of the head, **Not know me, Eda?” I cried, ‘not know Hugh Stanebright ?” A sudden cry escaped her, and the next moment her slender form lay rigid and in animate in my arms. How much, how very much the sweet face had changed! ‘he roundness” and bloom had shrunk and taded, the joy was gone, and a stony whiteness had deadened Its radiance, She lay several minutes senseless in my arms; at length, when she recovered, she nestled her golden head upon my_ breast, ani clung to me, as it she teared I should abandon or reproach her, * Hda,” I whispered, and I felt my words choking me, and my mouth tremulous and quivering, * L know where Jane is?” “In Heaven, Hugh!” was her meek res- ponse, ‘' Death has kindly ta..en her trom this miserable world.” ‘‘And your mother?” I asked, after a awuse, Without answering my inquiry, she opened the door and drew me alter her. We passed along w dark, close passage, and entered a mean, low-pitehed room. The few scanty erticles of turniture had the dejected appearance of poverty in its most wretched form, A glimmoring beam of the wintry sun shot through a small casement, aslant and pale, on a narrow truckle bed, ‘There is my mother, Hugh,” she whis- pered, while she pointed to the white,hag- gard face upon the pillows. LT approached the bed, and bent over the shrunken figure, * Hugh Stanebright,” said my aunt fee- bly, and recognizing me at the first glance, “what fatal chance has guided you here ?” ** No chance,” I replied; ‘the will of Providence alone, Tum here to saye you,” ** Too late, too late!” she murmured, ** Eda may be saved; but I am dying.” 1 lost no time in sending for the most skillful physician that could be found, by whose advice she was at once removed trom the stifling atmosphere of that wretched abode to a pleasant lodging, which 1 pro- eured in the suburbs. Every delicacy or comfort that even the doctor or lersell fan- cied might be of service was instantly pro- cured, and before many days had passed her health began to return, One night a profound and heavy slum- ber into which my aunt had fallen,relensed Eda for a short time from her ever: watch- (ul duty, and she had stolen soitly into the sitting-room where 1 was seated. ‘The blinds were closed, and the tastefully fur- hished apartment was cheertully lighted, She was beginning to look like the Eda of former days, ouly more reserved, more shy. with a pensive gentleness in her yoice and manner, Her dress, too, of deepest mourning, lent a sadder aspect to her tigure, and her features were assuming a tuller roundness, «Ieda,” I said, after a pause, as she sat looking thoughtfully into the pleasant fire, “T want you Lo answer mea few questions,” ** Any questions, cousin, you choose to ask,” she replied, as she turned her grate- tul eyes to me, “How long has your father been dead ?* * Six months, Hugh,” she replied, * Had thése terrible privations overcome you previous to that event?” I continued. «Oh, yes,” she replied, Belore we left England my father disposed of his pension for a certain sum, ldo not know the exact amount and alter a short resi- dence in Paris he brought us to Baden-Ba- den. He became an habitual frequenter of the gaming-houses, and returned home one night penniless. From that time our miserable struggles commenced, Day by day we sank lower and lower into. the broidery and needJe work, and but for her exertions we must have starved, It may be wrong, Hugh, for a ebild to speak re- proachfully of a father, but that detestable vice had become a part of his very nature, and every coin that could be wrung fiom my sister’s hard earnings was taken to gratify it. You never knew my _ father, cousin ?” she inquired, somewhat abruptly. ** Never,” I replied, Ah,” she sighed, ‘*I can remember him strong, and almost as youthful-looking as youarenow. And,” she added bitterly, ‘** 1 can too vividly remember him a de- graded, abject wreck; his manhood lost, his name a by-word, and his presence a contempt.’ Oh, Hugh,” she cried, ‘never, neyer let that fatal vice sully your soul. It is covered with a moral leprosy which nothing can cleanse.” ** Ile died repentant, I hope,” I said, ir a comforting tone. She shuddered, and pressed her ~hands convulsively over her cheeks, as if to shut from her view some appalling spectre, ** He died by his own hand, Hugh!” The words came ina low,) laintive strain of bitterest anguish. 1 sprang to her, and drew her sobbing tace to my besom, try- ing to soothe and calm her, ** I never saw dear Jane sinile after,” she resumed; ‘* all her hope, all her bra- very of spirit went suddenly out from her, Day by dity her fave paled, and her strength drooped.” ‘+ Did she ever speak of me, Eda?” I in- quired, “Daily, hourly, almost, until that terris ble event, but never alter—never even to the last,” replied Eda, **‘Lhe memory of that shame seemed to blacken her whole life, overshadowing every speck of bright- hess, Whether belonging to the past, or tinting the future with its rays, Her strength wasted away, and she could no longer sit at her drudging toil; then we felt want in its most ghastly form, One bleak night in November we had been . without food, without fire, for nearly two days. My mother and Jane were both very ill, I watched them fall into a short slumber, and then stole forth into the streets to beg.” Eda,” I interrupted. ‘‘I saw you on that night.” ‘Saw me ?” she exclaimed, ** But did not recognize you,” I contin- ued, ‘You were sent forth by a kind Providence to be my guardian angel.” I then recounted to her all that had oc- curred to me on that fatal night, and told her how the coin I bad abstracted trom her hand had retrieved my fortune and saved me trom rain, My aunt’s recovery was slow and waver ing. Spring was beantitying the earth with whew garment before she was able to ieave her room, Ai length, however, the physician’s skill and careful nursing pre- vailed, and she was pronounced conyales~ cent. Jt was some time in June that prepara« tions were made for our return to Hallur- ton. I had trequently written to my mo- ther, informing her of my aunts illness, and all the afflictions which had befallen the family, with the exception of their poverty, and that | kept a secret. The day preceding our departure from Baden-Baden, I called at an earlier hour than usual, and found Eda attired for walking. **Tam glad you are come, Hugh,” she said; ‘* 1 um now wating for you to fullill jour long deterred promise.” It wasto visit Jane’s and her father’s graves; l had given orders to have them seperately enciosed within an iron railing, and oyer June's grave was raised a chases ly carved monument in marble, and the little bankee-up hillock was fringed by rows of Summer flours, A plain head-~ stone, bearing his name and the date of his death, indicated the resting-place of her father. Eda’s eyes were brimming with grateful tears as she gazed in won- dering silence on the changed aspect of the place. ‘* Hugh,” she said, ‘* 1 cannot conceive a nobler act thanthis. Youhave indeed a generous heart, How Jane would have loyed you!” ‘The next day we were on our way to Hallurton. and before the end of the week we were all seated once more in the old dining-room at the lms. Memory still lingers over thoso bright Summer evenings; ny mother with some quaiat embroidery upon her lap, her sister with a world of meek patience in her gen- tle face, and Eda, halt sitting, halt reclin- ing by her side, with still a glittering rem- nant ot her old joyous playtuiness beaming in her voice and Jaugh and features, ‘Then it was that a new love began to shape it- sellin my, heart, picturing a cloudless fu- ture, illumined by those twin blessings, peace and happiness, The autumn leaves were strewing the garden pathways, and the. evening sun- shine was playing among the flowers, as Kida and | stole trom the house and bent our lootsteps towards the old fountain, ‘Lhe bloom and freshness of maidhood’s ripene-! spring glittered in her sweet face, the harsh lines which the evil days ot old had indented there, had vanished, and she now stood forth a gracelul type of woman’s rdrest beauty. “Eda,” I began, pausing beside the fountain, ‘I cannot offer you the first bright love of my heart; that was given years ago to Jane; but if you can accept the peaceful affection which time can never change, it is yours now and forever.” She lifted her eyes from the ground,and threw their fearless, loving light straight into mine as she gaye me her outstretched hand, **A few months longer, Ilugh, for the bruises to heal,” said isda, ** and then—” * You will be mine?” I said, filling up the trembling pause. * Wholly yours,” she whispered, Years have flown away since then; but our wedded happiness has never known a shade, and the bright faces of merry chil- dren make unclouded summer in our home at the Elms. ‘To these dear children the story of the sleeping mendicant and the stolen coin has olten been repeated, to teach them to shun the baneful vice of gambling. abyss of poverty ; Jane—dear, noble-heart- ed Jane—put aside all her pride, and tried to obtain afew pupils for instruction in would employ her, Tur Fenxtans,—The * Supreme Council of the Lrish Republic,” in the proclamation they have posted up all over Ireland and music, but my father’s evil repuiation as a| England, announge as the objects for which gambler was noised abroad, and nobody | they have been elected, three things, the She then tried em+| mort sensiblo that have yet been broached