AND WES6:

Summerside Dournal,

to

sg

tthe BIBL oct

DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, SCIENCE, GOMMERCE, AGRICULTRE, TEMPERANCE AND NEWS.

Vol. 4.

Summerside, Prince Edward Island, T

hursday, July 8, 1869.

THE
Summerside Journal,

18 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED

EVERY THURSDAY EVENING,

BY
JOSEPH BERTRAM,
AT HIS OFFICE, CENTRAL STREET.
TERMS:
1 oony for on year,
“

&

in advance, 68. 3d.
half advance, 7s. 6d.
atthe end of year 9s.

x’ Subscribers
‘for oti@year.

»Petr.ons gotting up cLuBs of 7!
“will berentitied to the JOUR

ADVERTISEMENTS.
inserted at moderate rates and in good style.
SrsciaL AcreEMENTS may be made on

reasonable terms for a whole, a half, or quar-
ter column, or by the year.

Job Printing

of every description, performed with neatness
and despatch, and at moderate rates,
at the Journat Office

———

Almanac

MOON'S PHASES.

Last Quarter, Ist day, 8h. 34m. evening, N.E
New Moon, 9th day, 9h. 25m, morning, 8. E.
First Quarter, 16th day, 2h. 35m. morn, N.W
4m. evening, W.

Last Quarter, 3ist day, Oh, 5:
ov} par| SUN sun 'sun’s|moon!, ¢
fast i dee. BE
$ | weex!rises-sets! clockjnorth) rises| o_o
| {hm {hm|m s| | h mh m
7 \Thurs/4 18/7 49| 3 31) 6 22|morn {15 31
2 |Frid 19] 49) 8 42) 2 2/0 7 80
3 (Sat 20) 49) 8 54/57 18) 0 32 29
4 (Sun [4 21/7 48] 4 4/52 10) 1 O15 28
5 |Mon 21) 48) 4 15/46 38) 1 39 27
6 |Tues Qt) 48] 4 25/40 42) 2 9 27
7 |Wed 92) 84! 4 35/34 22) 2 45 26
8 (Thurs| 23] 48] 4 45/27 39) 3 34 25
9 |Frid 24) 47/ 4 54/20 33) sets 24
10 [Sat 94] 47/5 3/18 4) 8 438 23
11 (Sun [4 25/7 46] 5 11) 5 12 9 37:15 21
12 |Mon 20) 46) 5 16/56 57/10 4 20
13 |Tues 27| 45) 5 26/48 19/10 38 18
14 |Wed 98| 44) 5 33/39 1911 7 19
15 \Thurs} 29) 44) 5 11 38) 1b
16 |Frid B80] 43) 5 42 morn 13
17 'Sat Bil 42,5 ' 0 9 il
18 ‘Sun /4 32|7 41] 5 55:59 40) 0 42/15 9
19 |Mon 83| 40] 5 59/48 52) 1 18 7
20 \Tues $4] 39] 6 8/37 42) 2 0} 5
21 |Wed $5} 38] 6 6/26 11) 2 50 3
29 |Thurs| 86) 37) G 9/14 21 3 38 2
23 |Frid 87| 36] 6 10] 2 9| rises|l4 59
24 |Sat 88] 35] 6 12/49 88) 8 20) 57
95 |Sun {4 39/7 34] 6 13/36 47| 8 B3L4 55
26 |Mon 40| 83] 6 13)23 36] 9 20) 53
27 |Tues 41| 82/6 12/10 5] 9 57/51
28 |Wed 42] 31] 6 11/56 17/10 8/14 49
29 |Thurs, 44) 29) 6 10 42 810 35) 46
30 | Frid 5] 2816 8lz7 4a}1l 0} 48
$1 |Sat 6G 512 S911 80! 41

Summerside Markets.
July 8, 1869.

Beef perlb 5d a Gd
Matton per lb 4d add
Oats per bush Bs
Potatoes per bush Is a Is dd
‘Turnips per bush 10d als
Butter per lb 1id a 12d
Lard per lb 9d a 10d
Tallow per lb. 9d a 10d
Eggs per doz 8d add
Hides per Ib 44d
Mackerel per doz 28 a 3s
Codfish per at 188 a 198
Pork per lb by carcass _ fda Gd
Flour per bbl B58 a 40s
Island Flour per cwt 188 to 198
Oatmeal per ewt. 168 a 178
Hay per Ton 50s a 60s
Pine Boards 108
Spruce Boards 48 a bs

Charlottetown Markets.
Ch. Town, July 8, 1869.

Beef per lb 44d a 8d
Mutton per lb 4d a7d
Pork per Ib,, by carcass, Sda sd
Ham per Ib Wd asd
Geese none |

Fowels isa ls 6d

Is 3d a Is 6d
203 a 218
188 a 10s
2d a 24d
18s a 20s
18d a 19d
Is 3d a 1s 4d

Ducks each

Flour per 100 Ibs
Oatmeal per 100
Buckwheat Flour, per lb
Codfish per quintal
Butter per lb,

L

ae 2a ea 8d a 6d
Tallow a a He
Eggs per dozen a 9
Tetatees per bushel 1s 6d a ls a
“ ba
om” Ss a3s 3d
Hay per ton 708 a 75s
Hides per lb 4d
Sheepskins each 4s ads 6d
Spruce Boards per 100 ft. 4s a 4s 6d
Hemlock a « Bs Gd a 4s

Buasiness Qurds,

nnn nnn nt enn np AID

BANK OF PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND

Corner of Great George & King Streets,
Charlottetown.
Prosident—How. Danrer BRenan.

Cashier—Wittiam Cunpatt, Esquire.

Discount Days—Mondays & ‘Thursdays.

Hours of Business—Fom 10a.m, to lp.m.
from 2 p.m to 4 p.m.

UNION BANK.

Grafton St., Queen's Square, Charlottetown
Prosident—Cnanies PALMER, Esquire.
Cashier-—James ANDERSON, Esquire,

Discount Days—Wednesdays & Saturdays.

Business—From 10 a.m to Lp m.,
mami from 2 p.mto 4pm.

SUMMERSIDE BANK.
Central Street, Summerside, P. B. [sland

President—James L. Honman, Esq.
Cashier—E. L. Lypiarp, Esquire
Discount Days—Tuesdays and F ridays.
Notes for Discount must be in before 11
o'clock on te ae wipe
siness—, » Mey .m.
pnaansits Hosts p- m., to 4 p.m.

GASH FOR EGGS!
TS highest price. in Cash, will be paid

for EGGS, at the Eurena Hoven.
Cc. C. GARDINER.
Sammerside, April 15, 1869.

Business Gards.

Business Gards,

FOUNTAIN HOUSE!

North side King Square, (next to Park Hotel)
Sr. Joun, N. B.

JAMES W. THOMPSON, Proprietor.

TYPMUE Proprietor of the above HOTEL takes

this opportunity to return thanks for the
liberal patronage hitherto received, and most
respectfully solicits a continuance of the
sume,

This IOTEL is very pleasantly situated,
and commands a view of King Square, and
other parts of the City.

In connection with the Hotel, is GOOD
STABLING, and a careful Hostler in attend-
ance. Parties coming from Prince Edward
Island with horses will find this establishment
the most comfortable in the City, and a per-
son always at the Cars on their arrival,

St. John, Sept. 10, 1868. ly

CRAWFORD'S HOTEL.

NO. 9, KING SQUARE,
SAINT JOFIN, N. B.
IIE subscriber having thoroughly reiitted
and enlarged his HOTEL and STORE, is

now prepared to accommodate Permanent and
‘Transient Boarders on the most reasonable
terms,

ALSO, in connection,a GROCERY STORE,
where every article required for house use

may be had.
J. CRAWFORD & SON,

_ Sept. 10, 1868. ly
Point Du Chene House !

FYE Subscriber would beg to call the at-
tention of the traveling public to this
well-known and favorite Hotel, situated at
the head of the Railway Wharf, at Point Du
Chene, N.B
Its advantages as a residence for parties in
quest of health cannot be surpassed. ‘The air
is pure, bracing and invigorating. while there
is every facility for deep sea-bathing,
‘Lhe trains for St. Jolin leave the door twice
every duy. ‘The charges willbe found moder-
ate, the table good; and the subscriber hopes
by strict attention to the requirements of his
customers, to ensure general satisfaction.
PETER SCHURMAN, Proprictor.
P. §.—Being himself a P. E. Islander, the
subscriber would hereby respectfully request
a share of the Island patronage.
Pt. Du Chene, May 13, ’69.

3m

~ ROCKLIN HOUSE, ~
KENT STREET, CHARLOTTETOWN,

SIMON D. FRASER, PROPRIETOR,

Permanent and ‘Transient Boarders will
find the above House to give satisfaction.
Ch'town, June 13, 1868.

Mr. W. H. POPE

EGS to inform the pric that he has re-
sumed the practice or the Law.
Orrice—A few doors below the Bank of
Prince Edward Island.
Charlottetown, March 18, 1869,

[7 THOMAS, KELLY,
BARRISTER - AT - LAW

NOTARY PUBLIC, &o.
SUMMERSIDE, - - PB. BE. ISLAND
GH,

JAMES GREENOU
FLOUR

Commission Merchant,

No 47 Commercial Street
Corner of Clinton Street --------- BOSTON
duny. 1, 1869. ly

KERSHAW & EDWARD'S
IMPROVED PATENT
Non-conducting and Vaporising

Fire and Burgler Proof

SAFBS.

MANUFACTURERS OF
BANK VAULTS, BURGLAR PROOF
VAULT DOORS, IRON VAULT DOORS,
PATENT COMBINATION BANK
LOCKS, DEED BOXES, PATEN'T JAIL
LOCKS & CELL DOORS, &e, &e.
Tnos. Fun.ier, | Davin Starr & Sons,
‘Travelling Agent. Agents, Halifax.
Montreal. Dee 15, '68 ee

Ei

~~ BOOT & SHO
ESTABLISHMENT.

HE subscriber begs leave to acquaint the

inhabitants of SUMMERSIDE and the
country generally, that he has commenoed
his business of BBoot & Shoe Mal
imgz, in the Shop next door to O. O'Neill's,
near the Wesleyan Church. He trusts that
by strict attention to business and good work
to give general
of public patronage.

WILLIAM CLARK.
Summerside, April 22, 1869).

THE GHNUINE

COMMON SENSE
Family Sewing Machine!
FOR
£3 5S. Od.

AT
HARVIE'S BOOKSTORE,
Charlottetown, and PRINCE COUNTY
BOOKSTORE, Summerside.
June 4, 1869.

THOMAS HALL

§ NOW PREPARED, with the assistance
of the STEAM POWER, to furnish any

number of
THRESHING MACHINES,

of the most improved kind.

Tron Turning, Wood do., Carts,
Trucks, &e., ey
manufactured, together with
Allother Work in his branch of trade

Every Machine warranted to do good work.
THOMAS HALL.

Job Printing done neatly and with
despatch, at the Journal Office,

Summerside, May 20,

} satisfaction and merit a share | 5g"

ITANFORD BROTHERS,

Successors to Thomas Hanford,

Gommission Meryhants,

And General Agents,
11 NORTH MARKET WHARF,
SAINT JOHN, N. B.

Cuas. U. Hanvorn. Frev. 8. Hanrorp

J. H. ALLEN,
Commission Merchant,

AND DEALER IN
PROVISIONS, &c.,

MARKET STREET, - ST. JOHN, N. B.

¥@™ Gives personal attention to the Sale
and Purchase of every description of Goods.
May 9, 1868.

ROBERT GORDON,
AUCTIONEER

AND
LAND BROKER,
Aberlone ce P, BE. Island
REFEREES ;
Ilon. Judge Young—Charlottetown.

lion, G, W. Howlan—Alberton.
Mr. Joseph Bertram—Summerside.

Alberton, May 13, 1869. ly

REUBEN TUPLIN,

Commission Merchant,

AUCTIONEER,

And General Agent,
Margate. P. HE. Island.

REvERENCES ¢

Ifon. D. Brennan, R. T. Tolman,
Ch. ‘Town. Summerside,
April 22, 1869. pat. pro, Gm

~ WILLIAM BEAIRSTO,
Commission Merchant,

Auctioneer & General Agent,
WATER STREET,
Summerside, P E. Island

R. & W. T. HUNT,
Gommission Merchants,

GENERAL AGENTS AND

AUCTIONEERS.

SALESROOM AND OFFICE
Head Queen's Wharf, Summerside, P. E, I.
(opposite the Store of W. T. Hunt & Co.)
April 2, 1869. ly

CARVELL BROTILERS,

AUCTIONEERS,

Commission Merchants,
AND GENERAL AGENTS.
BANK BUILDING, - - QUEEN STREET,
CHARLOTTETOWN, P. E. I,

~ WILLIAM DODD,
Commission Merchant,
And Auctioneer,
QUEEN SQUARE,
JHARLOTTETO WN--- P. FE. ISLAND
kK. EF. PURDY’S
NEW
Marble and Freestone
ESTABLISHMENT,
(NEXT DOOR TO BEER AND SONS’)
KING SQUARE;
CHARLOTTETOWN, P. E. ISLAND.

All orders punctually attended to.

Call and See!
Jan 7, ‘69 ly

A. W. ANDRES,
Marble Worker,

Point Du Chene, Shediac N. B.

MONUMENTS, TOMBS, GRAVE-
STONES, &c., &.

AMERICAN AND ITALIAN MARBLE CON-
stantly on hand,

Can furnish Grayestones and Monuments ata
less price than any other establishment in

the Provinces, and pay a duty besides,

Onpens can be left at Bextram’s Book
‘Store and at D, Enman’s, Esq., Summerside,

or sent to
A, W. ANDRES.
Point Du Chene, June 11th, 1868.

+4

REMOVAL!
pocTror “FU LLER
PHYSICIAN, SURGEON & ACOUCHEUR
RESIDENCE AND OFFICE ON
Central Street, Summerside.

(Directly opposite the Summerside Bank)
Summerside, may 13, 1869.

CARD.
D

1%. DODD may again be consult
ed, at his old residence, in MARGATE,
NEW LONDON.
April 15, 1869.—

DR. J. PRICE,
Physician & Surgeon,

Orrice—At the Syamersine Drug Store,

next door to Bank, Central Street

SUMMERSIDE, P. E. ISLAND.
October 12, 1868.

DR. JARVIS

Has REMOVED his Residence to SUM-
MERSIDE, next door to the Rev. Mr.
Frame’s, on Central Street.

RK” Ile can be consulted at his residence
or at Hunt & Co’s Drug Store, at all times.
Summerside, June 3, 1869,

Ww,

pro 3m.

POBTRY.

(vor THE JouRNAL.]

FORGIVE THY BROTHER.

Forgive thy brother! though he may
Have caused thine aching heart

To throb in sorrow and dismay,
And feel afiliction’s dart;

Thy love may win him back again,
Thy smile may end the strife;

Thy cheering words may soothe the pain
Which now would cloud thy life,

Forgive thy brother! thou perchance
Muay need forgivences too,

When grief thy sorrows Would enhance,
And woes thy pathway strew ;

Do not retain thy hatred, then,
Thou knowest not the joy

Which would o'ertlow his soul again,
And case the heavy sigh.

Forgive thy brother! whilst thou may,
Thy mild forgiveness show

"Bre death shall summon thee away,
And lay thy body low ;

So shall thy life in barmony
Pass peacefully away,

And evermore thine eyes shall see
The joys of wisdom’s way.

Forgive thy brother! yes, in love,
Foryive the erring one,
So shull thou meet in joy above,
When life's short work is done;
Then shalt thou gaze upon the Lamb
Whe hath forgiven thee,
And dwell on yonder Canaan's plain,
Throughout Eternity,
Turo. Leonaxp Cuarrece,
Summerside, July 2nd, 1869,

Select Hiserviture,
Pierre, The Charcoal-Burner.
CHAPTERLI,
‘The charcoal-burners are avery strange
race. ‘They live apart among the woods,
in huts which are roughly put together,
and rarely mixing with the denizens of
town or village, they seem, by their wild
ways, to be a link between the old savage
times and the modern days of civilization.
‘They are a solitary people, pursuing their

never seeking to change their manners
and modes of living, never assimilating
themselves to the refinments, the religion,
or the culture around them. Some say
they never go to Mass, and all their bap-
tisms (if any) and their marriages are set-
tled by laws ot their own, At all events,
Mthey marry only among themselves; the
reason, perhaps, being, that to the rest of
the community they are pariahs, with whom
a man would be ashamed to connect him-
self.
Awlul tales have reached my ears of
the savagery ol the charcoal-burners.
«Their childven areas untaught and
wild as young wolves,” saidone, ‘* They
attend no school, they go to no church.”
«Their dwellings are foul with smoke
and dirt,” cried another, ‘t No doors, no
windows, no chimney, and as to water,
they can’t understand the use of it. In
tact, they live like savages.”
«* But they must come to market some-
times,” | observed mildly, ‘*And they
must buy clothes.”
«Clothes? I don’t think the little ones
in the huts trouble themselyes much with
clothes, And us to provisions, they are
brought from the villages as seldom as
possible; then usually one of their men
comes with a cart and pony, and procures
enough for all.”

« And Ns do they live such a strange
life? IT asked,
“JT don’t know. They have always
done it, ‘Lhey lived like that hundreds of
years ago, and they livo so still.”
‘This was the answerl invariably received.
Noone seemed to possess any deeper
knowledge; so I was fain to pe up with
the scanty information I could get. And,
indeed, this is all 1 know of the charcoal-
burners to this day, for their huts lay so
tar inthe recesses of the forests, that I
neyer found time to pay them a visit, and
prove, by the evidence of my own senses,
whether the strange tales told me of their
savage lives were tov highly colored or

not.

I could fancy that in the lonly glades of
that great wooded belt. which stretches
into the Black Forest, a race of men might
rrow savage. And finding «themselves
fespised and shunned, they might learn,
on theit side, to contemn the civilization
and the religion of those who storned them,
But would this make them wicked? Sure-
ly, in the green, quiet cloisters of the wood,
in the long, lealy maves of this great tem-
ple, in its shadowy and arched chair, the
human soul was more attuned to worship
the holy and the pure than in the festering
city, where sin walks unabashed, insolent,
showy, and loud.

« You wanted to see acharcoal-burner,”
gaid Madame Rodicre to us one morning,
« Well, here comes the charrette of Pierre,
the charcoal-burner, Now you can talk
to him, monsieur, if you will.”
Iran out into the road, and followed the
wheels of the cart till they stopped at the
grover’s door, ‘Then a tall, spare man,
with iron-grey hair, sprang to the ground,
and entered the shop. His face was hard
and bronzed, the features good, the eyes
piercing, the cheeks thin and hollow, the
mouth firm, and grave to such a firm de-
ree that it seemed never to have smiled,
t was this which gave to his face a pecu-
liavity so remarkable, that I could not re-
frain from watching him almost rudely.
He took no notice, however, of my steady
gaze, as, with a singular display of me-
mory,
required by the community, whose com-
missioner he was. For all these things he
had a pile of little packets, each containing
money, and to my surprize, he made no
single error either in the reckoning ot
this, or in the name of the person to whom
it belonged.

«fam astonished you should trouble
yourself to remember all this.” said I.
‘Why not write it down?”

« Monsieur, | cannot write,” returned
the chareoal-burner, gravely, ‘* We can-
not learn writing in the woods; we must
trust to our memories, And the memory
of a charcoal-burner is good,” he added.

calling in the loneliest glades of the forest, | Y

he enumerated the puzzling articles | 8

He said this with a sudden flash in hi
expression of hate and suffering indes
cribable.
of a pain come over his hard features, anc
as before.

** How old should you think Pierre te
be?” asked the grocer, in his usual min
stow the packages in the cart.
sixty,” I answered,
tais reply.

woods than Vierve,
not more than thirty-four,”

words,

surprised, but I tell you the exact truth

you see him,
since,”

ithas made him what
fact, he has never sinile

half angrily.
‘Since the murder,
know all the story, monsicur ?”

**You Ardeunuais are the

you than you talk to hin as if]

Ilupert.
“Monsieur is half right there.

grocer,

story is cunnected with him.”
Ardennes genicvre)”

counter,

“This gentleman p
health with him, anc
young:
your age at sixty.”

shade older as he listened.
‘Tam little used to talking,” he said,
‘especially in houses.

not atraid to come,”
‘*Tam not afraid, Pierre,” I answered.

he continued, *tand [should be sorry to
tell a tale before them; but anywhere be-
neath the trees in quiet, I might, in my
rough way, draw you out a shadow of the
tuMieronle

don't tell sulferings,”

“T will meet you where you please,” I
cried, eagerly, ‘The lonelier the spot,
the better 1 shall like it.”

“Dm watching a pile of burning wood
in the forest, near the old cross in the Bas-
toigne road,” he answered, ‘and it any
day, tor % week to come, monsicur will
travel that way and blow his horn” (tra-
vellers and sportsmen carry horns in their
pockets, to blow if lost—** L shall hear it,
and I will make my way through the trees,
and bring you to the spot.”

‘1 will come on Monday, Pierre,” 1
said, ‘*at two o'clock.”

Ile bowed to me, without a word more,
and departed,

‘An uncouth man,” said the grocer;
«but there—1 wonder if he is alive or in
his senses. Far less than he has sufferrd
would make a lunatic of me,”

I would not be inherited into asking
questions, so 1 bought a bundle of cigars,
and bade the smirking grocer good-day,

CHAPTER II,

Through what wonderful green glades I
vassed |

uv

beauty! For a true and noble temple
commend me to the woods,
dral can equal this avenue of elms? Wha
wracery in stone, carved by the most cun
ning, can rival this tret-work of leaf and

up to the summer sky sounds that speak o
joey and ; raise,

grew thick and tall, shutting out the sun

heard in broken phrases uncouth and

Charcoal-burner,
“Tam the poorest man alive,” sait

poorer or rougher,
coal burner, all’s said in one word. Pu
an outcast of the woods, and 1 kuow it
and | never trouble a town, tor there | fee
myself alon
tone about me,
spirit does not jar with these trees and
rocks, these long-stretchiug shadows anc

comes at times upon the witd’s breath

unspeakable sorrow, No; Llove the wild

with all her heart,

the song of the nightingale down to th
weakestery ul the small iusect on th
Tass,

**People said sho was ignorant. Sh
could’t read and write; sie couln't: say
* Pater’ in Latin to save Le
igvorant and untaught as a bird or beas'
ve heard the towntolks suy this of her o

out in the woods with us ter awhile,

could tell you Where the treshet water ral
and the greenest cresses grew, The
wasn't a healing leat in tie woods that s
hadn't loarned to understand; and if y
did but hurt your finger, suv would spri

fierce eyes, while there fell on his face an

« That man has a history, and a strange
one,” I thought, as I watched the shadow

leave them as composed and passionless

cing voice, as the charcoal-burner strode
away to help Adolphe, the shopman, to

“T should think him between fifty and
The grocer chuckled with delight at

“Why ten fii ago,” he cried, ‘* there
wasn’t a handsomer young fellow in the
At the utmost he is

I was so astonished, that I could only
turn my eyes in bewilderment on the worn,
hard face, whose aged lines of care and
sorrow seemed utterly to belie the grocer's

Ah,” said he, ‘*you may well look

That man has pot seen more than thirty-
four years of life—a hard, strange lite, and
In

“Since what? since when?” I eried,
Of course you

** Of course, [know nothing,” I answer-
most ¢x-
gant people on the face of the earth.
No sooner does a Stranger come among
new all
your villuge gossip since the days of St.

But I
thought Madame Rodicre had told you the
story of pour Emiline’s death,’ said the

*{f would rather hear it from Pierre,
himseit,” said I, ‘* if, as I suppose, the

‘Hush, here he comes!” cried the gro-
cer, ** will you take a glass of pekie (the
** Monsieur knows 1
never dvink aught but water,” returned the
man, taking up his last packets from the

rays you to drink a
tell him how it is
your face looks so old, when you are. still
Why, Pierre, he has just guessed
We all smiled except the charcoal-burn-
er, whose harsh face seemed to grow a

Out in the woods
[ might’ tell the story, if the gentleman is

“We charcoal-burners are a wild lot,”

a shadow at the best, lor words

What cool arcades, and lolty
arches, rooted with fluttering leaves, soit
shiding, shadowy, bathing the eye in deli-
cious rest, and filling every scene with

What cathe-

light above my head? And as for music
and for prayer—on every side I hear going
Down in a little glen, where the trees
and the loneliness was so intense that the
voice grew hushed, and the heart seemed
stirred with memories of other worlds, |
roughly-spoken, the story ot Pierre, the

Pierre; ‘in all the world there's none)
In saying Pin a char-

e—not tuned, as it were, lo the
Here ‘tis different; my

fantastic lights, these wild cries of bird and
beast, and this mysterious moan, which
shaking the forest with the wail of sume
tree woods; and she loved the forest, too,

There wasn’t a sound
in it she couldu’t tell and interpret, trom

lite; she was | does but s

‘Ignorant, was she? Why, she knew |
every troe that grows; she Knew every | all the forest than tho little glade that lies
herb that springs out of tae grass; she | beneath that tree,

3

aside and come back smiling, with some
sweet-sinelling remedy in her pretty hand.

** Then the flowers! There was no eye
like hers for flowers, She knew them all,
and never gathered them as town-folks do,
to throw away when they faded. No; she
dried them in the sun, and Kept them for
the sick in winter. ‘The rose and gilly-
flower for colds, the lime-blossoms for te-
ver, Ah, what a store she gathered every
summer! And with what wreathes and
posies she decked out our little hut!

* We were brought up together, sir, so
I know what [am saying when I tell you
she was not ignorant, But, like usall,she
had no town-learning; her only books
were the forest and the sky; but out of
these she got a wisdom that might haye
put learned men to shame.” r

Pierre paused here, and his eyes looked
out far away beneath the green glades, as
though he saw there some sight that filled
his soul with the unutterable longing of
sorrow,

** Down there, at that old gnarled tree,
she used to meet me every day. Some-
times, at sunset, I think I sce her still; but
I knowit is only fancy. It 1 were atowns-
man, taught out of books, these fancies
would not come upon me strong as they
do now, But I don’t wish them away.
No; it does me good to faney I see her

I wish you could see her, sir, as I do
now. Iam so alraid, as you listen to my
poor talk, you will think her rude and
rough like me. You will think, because
she was a churcoal-burner’s daughter, and
because she loved such a man as I am,
that her ways were like my ways; but I
tell you, a It is not in me to have such
thoughts as she had, and put them in such
noble words—words, that had a music and
au measure in them, like the winds have on
a stormy night, And itis notinme to
learn the things from the sky, and herd,
and tree, that she learnt. Every little
leat and flower-cup told her its secret, and
the sturs, as they look down on her, breath-
ed into her soul such thoughts of an infinite
love, of an ever-yearning pity, and eternal
glory, that my heart Would stop beating as
I listened to her.

‘Was she beautiful? youask, I don't
know, sir, Her face was not like any face
T have heard called beautiful ia town and
villages; but once, in a picture, | saw 2
face like hers, It was the picture of a
wonian in the wilderness, weeping, as she
lay on the ground, with her hand resting
on a book,”

‘* Mary Magdalene,” said I.

‘Ttimight be, sir, But hername, you
know, Was Elmire. I’ve made the wouds
ring with her name many a time in the
old joyous days ; and in the sad times since,
Pye whispered to myselt in prison, in such
bitterness astew men know. You wouldn't
think, sir,that she was a girl,whom a wick-
ed man would dave to loye in a wicked
way; yel that misery came toher. If you
were lo climb tothe top of that green knoll
and look westward over the sloping trees,
you'd see the smoke of the village where
he lived. Inever go there now. The
Hae ol the place would sect my brain on
ire.

* He was a farmer's son, wellto do, A
coarse, drunken brute, vile and cruel as a
woll, but clever, so the schoolmaster said
and rich, as all the world knew. And,
you see, she was only a charcoal-burner’s
daughter, an outcast, ignorant as a bird,
and wilder, She never went to mass, she
never came to confess, she never joined
a procession, she never danced at a village
fete, she could neither read nor write, and
in all her life she had never seen a town,
So she was too far beneath him to be
thought of as a wile; she was even in his
eyes so low, that he kept his base love a
secret from all his neighbors.

* But he crept into the wood, and camo
upon her in lonely places, and iasulted her
with hot words of passion, Or he stole
upon her unawares, when she sat at work
beneath the trees, and fuwned and cringed
for a word from her, Or he threatened,
and trightened her, when she came into
the village for flax and wool. All things,
all ways, he tried, and he gained only her
quiet scorn, and her untold loathing,

* We wild children of the woods havo
an instinct, which warns us of a hurtiul
reptile or a poisonous plant, and thus we
avoid them, though we know not. their
names, and though we could not, in our
ignorance, utter our reason for our fears.
So with her; she hated this man from the
first, and one day in our wanderings, she
told me she thought he would kill her,
asa snake or wolt might when hungry,
orangry. 1 laughed at this,

«Ile dare not lilt his hand against thee,
Elmire,” Lsaid. ‘* tle is accoward, and
he knows that [ should kill him it he did
but touch you.”

‘Indeed, my anger burned so fiercely
against the villian that Elinire had with
dilliculty Kept us from blows, But for
her prayers and tears, | would have rid
her path of him long before. ‘There was
another hindrance, too—her father. With
him lay all the root of this misery, He
was adrunkard, and for drink he was
willing even to sellhisdaughter. He was
lost,swallowed up in that one vice ; reason,
aection, conscience, all drowned in it.
ile was so weak beneath its sway, that ho
tell into the pit-fall laid before him, asa
blind beast would,

«Lue Leroy had but to say, ‘ Here's
a drink for thee, Pere Martin,” and torth-
with he would auswee with a cunning
leer:

*Elmire is down inthe dell yonder,
or she has gone to the old cross to-day,

* And grappling the bottle for which he
had sold his child's peace, he would de-
part, muttering and chuckling with drunk
en glee,

«Lo save this miserable wretch from
my contempt, Imire bore all this, and
ul held her peace. 1 gaessed some ot it; £
¢ |never guessed the whole till too late,

‘Look yonder, monsicur, down that
e}deep, narrow pathway, where the trees
®/ arch over head so closely thatthe sunlight

Meo sparingly the ground
t.| beneath. Do you see, high upon the
f-| tallest tree, a white cross cut in the bark ?

1

p

t

1

i

|
1

1
1

’

,

ten, and I've smiled, and wished they were | ‘That sign, cut by these hands, is a sign of

one of the foulest murders ever done in
this land, There is not a loniier spot in

** It is autumn now, and the leaves are
spare; butin summer the tiny pathway
you see yonder is covered up with foliage
and long grass, so rank that only a tores-
twr's oye can trace the track, Aud scarce

Hy
re
he
ou

ng