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DEVOTED TOLITER

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ST

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ENUE, COMMERCE, AGRICUL

PIONEER.

—————————

‘URE, AND NEWS.

Vol. 2.

Summerside, Prince Edward Island, Thursday, April Lf, 1867.

z No. 27.

THE
Summerside Journal

18 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED EVERY
THURSDAY EVENLNG,
bY

JOSEPH BERTRAM

AT HIS OFFICE, CENTRAL STREET,

TERMS:
l copy for one year, in advance, 6s, 3d.
a el half advance, 7s. Gd.
atthe end of year 9s.

“ “

Persons getting up ciuns of ren Subscribers
will be entitled to the Journnat for one year,
The following gentlemen have consented to

act as AGENTS, and they are authorized to re-

ceive monies and give receipts,on our account:
Charlottetown—W. 1. Dawson, Esq.
Henry Harvie, Esq.
Centreville—Major Wright, Exq
Upper Bedeque—Wm. G. Strong, Esq
Tryon—George Muttart, Esq
Crapayd—Charles Collit,
St. ERMor's—W.'T. iunt & Co
Miscouche—Joseph B. Perry.
Port Hill—David Ramsay, Esq.
Cascunpec—Benjamin Rogers, Esq
Tignish—Benjnmin Haywood, Esq
Miminigash—VThomas Costin
Margate—Reuben Tuplin, Esq
New London—Pidgeon & Stewart
Stanley Bridge—Goorge RK. Garrett
Malpeque—1). & P. McNutt
Southpori—Henry Beer, Esq
Vernon River—Mr. George Vickerson
Georgetown—Andrew LeBrocque, lisq
Mr. Tuosas Gorvoy, of Newcastle, N.B.
is our Agent for that place

ADVERTISEMENTS
inserted at moderate rates and in good style.
Srecia, 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 Jounnav Office.
—— = ‘
Summerside Markets,
Summensipye, April 11, 1867.
Oats per bush --------> 7-7 728 dda 2s 4a
Barley per bush - - - ds a 3s 6d
Potatoes per bush --------- 1s Gda ls 9d
Turvips per bush ------ 1s nls ld
Butter per Ib by Tub - - Is als ld
Tard per lb; 2 == 9d a 10d
Tallow per lb. - -- 9d a 10d
Eggs per doz -- 9d a lod

Resto ta aa
joes ---- Sd a 4d
Mutton per e-- Sda 44d

Pork per lb by carcass
Geese cach ------*
Flour per bbl -
Oatmeal per cwt. -
Bare per'ewn --- 77°77
Wi bone
Spruce Board

-----lIs 6d als 9d
-- 50s a 608
------ 14s a 15s
e--- 18 bd
---- 10s

Business Gards,

KIRKWOOD, LIVINGSTONE & CO.

Slour, Produce, Leather,
AND GENERAL

Commission Jlerchants,
MONTREAL, ------- CE.

execution of orders for Flour, Grain, Seeds,
Provisions. Leather, Hides,
general Merchandize. Freights secured and
Insurances effected at lowest current rates.

Merchants in the Lower Provinces will find
it to their interest to forward their orders for
Flour to us for execution, as an extensive
acquaintance with Western Millers, and as
Agents for some of the most pypular Brands
in Canada, we can with gifet ure them
of every satisfaction,

Remittances against
wise provided for, may
Exchange, or Gold D
Dratts on New York be
to a per cent more than

Every information as to the state of the
market, present and prospective, given when
required,

Consignments of Fish, Cod Oil, &., care-
fully realized, and returns made with the
utmost promptitude, or applied according to
the wish of consignors.

Charges only made for actual disbursements
and Commissions not over those of responsible
llouses inthe line. Unquestionable refernces
given when required.
KIRKWOOD, LIVINGSTONE & CO.

503 St. Paul Street,

Montreal, C. E.

February 7, 1867.

THOMAS HANFORL

ers
en

hen not other-
le with Stirling
on New York,
giworth usually ang

ace 24
Commission Mefchant,

ST. JOHN, N. B.
Nov 1, 1865

C. L. RICHARDS,

Importer and Wholesale Degter in

British & Korcigns@rgceries
4, North Wl
ST. JOHN, - - - NEW NSWICK.

Dee. 6, 1866, ly

James Gremnoug

J gs A La
: FLO
Oeasassslyvluit FECL ULLGILL,

No 4% Commercial Street
Corner of Clinton Street BOSTON.
ZA

giness

BANK OF PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND.

Corner of Queen § Water Sts., Charlitetown
President—llon. Tuomas HL. HAW.ANp,
Cashier —W ILLIA Cunpatt, Esattre,
Discount Daye Monaaya een ‘
Hours of Bae aie i aa ee we

Queen's Square, Charlottetogn
President—CHarRLrs PALMER; | Esquin,
Cashier—James ANDERSON, Esquire,

Days—Mondays, Wednesdays,
seas u and Saturdays. ;

Hours of Business—I’'rom 10 a.m lpm,
from 2 p.m t@4 pn,

SUMMERSIDE BANK. |
Central Street, Summerside, P. E. Hand,
President—Hon. Jonun R, GarvineR.
Cashier—E. L. Lrpranp, Esquire

Discount Days—Tuesdays and Friday,

Notes for Discount must be in be
o'clock on Discount days.

Hours of Businuss—10 a. m., to 1p m.,

Grafton St.,

11

A from 2 p. m., to 4) m,
GLORGE ALLEY |

BARRISTER AND

Attorney-at-La
notary rustic, &,

Telegraph Buildings, Water Street,

J. Fe HILL & 60

DEALERS IN
Potatoes, Apples,
Sorcign & Domesti¢ AHruits,
s, Beans, Green & Dried Apples

Stalls 107 and 109.
and Cellar No. 19, Faneuil Hall Market

SOUTH SIDE BOSTON.
7 OAR D
WILLIAM a SILO,
Commission MeacHant,
Auciioneer & Genertl “Agent,
WATER STREET,
-BL
H. J. RICHARDSON

Cranbe

. *
Summerside, . Island

Vlour, |
Diy Goods.
Water Strect... Summerside.

Dealer in

SL AIR, VA

Charlottetown, P. E. Island

WILLIAM M. HOWE,

Attorney-at-haw
AND NOTARY PUBLIC,

Sr, ELeanon’s... .P. BE. Isuann.

THOMAS KELLY, PAs
Barrister - at -

AND

NOTARY PUBLIC, &¢.
BUMMERSIDE, - - - - P. B. ISLAND.

avg. 9, 1866 ly
ial

"FRANCIS LONGWC
BARRISTER AND AT
“h@~ Office—PAVIL
(next door to the Ho)
OHARLOTTETOWN -
Tan. 17; 1867. ly

JOHN ANDREW MACD
Importer of Dr
Hardware, Ctgckerywa

stoves, Furniture, ¢

Summerside, --------- P. BE. Island.

DAVID BERTRAM,
Saddle and Harndgs Maker,

Water Street . . . *. Summerside.
October 12, 1865.

© Poocth American

KENT STREET,
JOHN MURPH
Permanent and Tr

find good accommadatian

Good Stables in connection with the Hore,
and a caroful Hostler always in attendance,
Ch'pown, Feb, 14, 1867. f

>,

oo

CABINET-MAK i
AND ) BG
Undertaker.

\SURNILTURE OF ALL KINDS MADE

TO ORDER.

Kent Street. -. - Charlottetown.
Sept. 1566,

DR. McN@IL
Physician &

At J. M.

\ Stanley Bridge:

Néw London, - -
Jan24, 1867.

Risipence

ly

Se

DR. PRICK
Physician & on,
Ovrick—At the Suumensipf I RE,

\ next door to Bank, C

Sy
ra irri
ISLAND.

SUMMARSIDE, ..... P.

WATER SIREET, SUMME

WILLIAM DODD{

Caiiinission Meyqhar
Ahd Auction¢gey, /
“<3 QUEEN SQUARE, js

CHARL(
OAs
AU

VELL BROTHERS,

BANK DING, QUEEN STREET,
Charlottelawn,,. . 2. + + PLE. Island.

The most careful attention given to the

Coal Oil, and

‘signed to attract attention,

TETOWN--- DP. B.IfhAND

PORTRY.

BEAUTY AND THE WAVE,

Bravry sat tracing, with sportive fingers,
Names on the ocean sand one day;

Watching how long each wave would linger,
Ere it had washed the print away.

First Hope she sketched—the wave just kissed
it, .

‘Then sank to ovean’s breast again,
As half regretful to have missed it,

And with the maid let hope remain.

Next Friendship’s:name, so fond, yet fleeting,
The maiden on the sand enshrined:

‘The wave flowed on—but soon retreating,
No trace of friendship left behind!

Love then appeared—'twas deeply graven
On that frail page by Beauty’s hand!

‘The wave returned—ah! silly maiden,

Love's yows are ever writ on sand.

When one by one each name had perished,
Beauty grew wearied of her play;

Finding that almost prized and cherished,
Some passing wave will sweep away,

Select iter

ature,
ADGIOT,

Mus. Farvey had exercised a great deal
of forbearance towards the girl; that must
be admitted. But there was a limit to
Mrs. Farley’s patience, and that point had
been reached.

*T won't put up with this any longer,”
she said, in the tone of 2 woma., who was
entirely in earnest. There isno reason
why the peace and order of my family
should be disturbed by one neither of my
kith or kin. No obligation to keep her
tests upon me—none in the world; and
IY} just turn her adrift to take care of her-
self, Shell soon find the difference be-
tween home and the kind of place to be
picking up among strangers. ‘The lesson
will do her good.”

Mrs. Farley’s husband was her only au-
ditor, The person of whom the lady com-
nlained so bitterly was 2 girl named Helen
Sond,
moved in the house adjoining Mr. Farley's.
This family consisted of a father, a mother,
and a daughter, the latter a girl in her
seventeenth year. ‘The name of this
family was Bond. They had been living
there for several months when, noticed
particularly by Mrs. Farley. What. first
attracted her attention was the gay dr
and jaunty, assured. iz, ofy ay “vain
the streets eoquettishly, and in a manne
calculated to win observation.

Next, the mother was observed, though
opportunities for seeing her were rare—a
pale-faced, exhausted, unhappy-looking
woman, apparently without strength to
bear the burdens which life had placed
upon her shoulders, ‘The husband and
father next drew attention. His face was
sensual, and marred by signs of excess and
passion. :
‘Ile drinks,” was the remark of Mr.
Farley one day to his wite, on observing
Bond pass the window. *‘I saw him in
an omnibus yesterday so drunk that he
could hardly sit up straight.”

You have the case in anutshell, A self-
indulgent, dissipated, unprincipled father ;
a heart-broken, weak, compliant mother,
and a vain, self-willed, half-educated, un-
disciplined daughter,

A year after the Bond’s moved nex
door, the husband and father went off, i
is said, to California, leaving his family in
utter destitution, ‘lo sustain herself, Mrs.
Bond sold one article of furniture after
another, until scarcely enough for use and
comfort remained, Still, the daughter
made her appearance on the street almost
every day, with dress and manners de-
On nearly
ory fine afternoon you might have seen
her, with step elastic and eye alert, moy-
ing along the fashionable promenade, the
observed of too many observers,

All this was noticed by Mrs, Farley, and
remarked upon.

‘What can the mother of that girl be
thinking about?” she would sometimes
say; ‘'does she not know that dangers
lie in the path her daughter is treading 2”
And yet there was something in the fy
of Helen Bond that always interes
Farley, and something in her air and man-
ner, jaunty though it was at. times, that
seomed easy and graceful, indicating na-
tive refinement.

“1 pity her from my heart,” she would
sometimes say, *'for no true happiness
lies, 1 fear, at the end of the path her fect
have taken.”

One day Mrs. Farley was startled by an
unusually loud ringing of the street door
bell.

‘Ts Mrs. Farley at home?” she heard
asked, a few moments afterwards, in a
frightened tone of voice.

Ifurrying down stairs, she saw Helen
Bond, with a face ashen pale.

“Oh, ma’am, won't you come in and
see mother? Vm afraid she’s dying!”
cried the agitated girl.

Mrs. Farley did’ not hesitate for a mo-
ment; but she reached the bedside of her
neighbor only in time to watch the last
paintul signs of dissolution, She passed
away with her mourntul eyes fixed loving-
ly, but sadly, on the face of her weeping
child.

Tt often happens that circumstances out
of their control bring duties to our hands
which may not bo avoided. So was it
with Mrs. Farley in tho present case.—
From Helen she learned that her mother
had no relations, and that her father's
friends, with whom the family did not hold
intercourse, lived in Canada. ‘Che manner
in which Helen appeared to lean upon and
cling to her in this utter bereavement,
touched the heart of Mrs. Farley, und she
felt that she could do no less than offer
her «temporary home, after the funeral
was over, whieh was accordingly done,

Mrs. Farley soon discovered in the
young, undisciplined girl, many naturally
good qualities, which might be turned to
useful accountin the family. This seemed
to form the basis of a permanent home for
Helen, who, in her bereavement and des-
titution, was glad to accept of any place
of refuge.

t

Two years before, a family had|,

Now came the trial for both, Any
thoughtful reader will comprehend, on a
moment's reflection, how utterly imposssi-
ble it would be for a girl raised as Helen
Bond had been—with false ideas of life,
and pride, vanity, and love of ease and
Retain fixed almost into habits, to fall
easily and naturally into the ways and
usuages of a well-established household,
where those who stood at the head ordered
all things below them, and required a
datiful obedience.

Ot cou in taking Helen into her

and freedom that she had enjoyed while
her mother was living.
fully employed, and hold her position by |
{the right of service. All this was taken

for granted by Mrs, Farley, and assumed

jby her to be so self-evident a thing, as not

tto require any special elucidation for ITelen.

| And here was her error, She was a wo-

man of few words in the way of precepts,

but very prompt and resolute in action,—

She saw very clearly herself, and gave

others eredit for being equally clear-sight-

ed, an error that often made her impatiodt
and unjust. She ought to have tatked

very soberly and very calmly to Helen in

the beginning, and led her thoughts in ad-

vance, so that judgment and a right esti-

mate of the new life upon which she was

entering,anight be a light to her feet yal

a monitress within her own soul.

Wat Mrs. Farley only assigned duties
wléch were soon felt to be some, be-
cause right thoughts did not sustain Helen
in them, '

“That girl isa great trial,” she soon;
began to say to her husband. * Pm afraid |
I shall not be able to mal rything out
of her. She is capable enough, but so
self-willed and undisciplined. I've been
sorry many a time that I ever took her
into the family.”

Mev. Varley would merely shrug his
shoul or answer, indifferently—

“Sho's pretty, and she knows it—that’s
the trouble. She's lived on the street so
much, that she can’t content herself in the
house.”

“Well, she’s not going to live in the
street while she’s under my care,” or some-
thing of the kind, would be responded by |
Mrs. Farley, who had no real sympathy |
with Helen; beeause she had never
thought of changing places with her in
imagination, and going down into a reali-
zation of her wants, weakness, and mental
habits. As well might the bird whose

wings, since newly fledged, had borne it
in grove and meadow, lind contentment
in a narrow cage, as Helen Bond under
She wanted,
e, loving, patient
le her

her altered circuthstanc
in this new relation, aw
mother, to teach, to 1 , and to guic
1 towards her when it
alg

been seven or eight months
of inharmonious life under this new aspect
of things, when Mrs. Farley made the de-
claration with which our story opens,—
Ilelen, who occupies a position in the tami-

ly just above the grade of an ordinary

domestic, had assumed of late a degree of
independence that was in no way agreeable

to Mrs. Farley, She took the liberty of

dressing herself and going out much more

frequently than was approved by the lady,

and under remonstrance, sometimes an-

swered with a pertness that aroused indig-

nation against her. Of late there had been

an oceasional evening call froma young

man whose acquaintance she had made

somewhere, and this proved another

source of displeasure,

‘Where are you going?” demanded
Mrs. Farley, meeting Ilelen on the stairs
one afternoon, dressed to go out, and with
more thiaa usual attention to her appear-4
ance.

“To take a walk,” was the answer;
“T haven't been out of the house this
week,”

Now, the last sentence was true.

“You should have asked if going out
were agreeable to me,” said Mrs. Farley,
without any softening of the stern aspect
she had assed,

‘Tam not quite reduced to slavery, was
the unguarded retort.”

“Oh, well, go your ways, and to de-
struction, if you will! and Mrs. Farley
turned from the weak girl, angrily.

Helen went out, as she had designed,
and Mr, Farley met her in Chesnut street,
in company with a young man, fashiona-
bly deseued; in whose ‘ace, taking it in 2

co, and
not

pissing glance, he read no true moral
record. It was on the occasion of men-

tioning, in a tone of dissal istaction, this
cirewnstanee to his wile, that she had
spoken as we haye seen; and she was on-
tirely in earnest.—ILelen had tried her be-
yond the point of endurance, and her mind
was made up to part with her.

A brief but short passaye at arms occur-
red between Mid Farley and Llelen, when
the latter returned home, at the conclusion
of which Mrs, Farley said—

* And now, my young lady, T wish you
to look out for another home, You cannot
remain here; that is settled.”

Mrs. Farley. saw a sudden paleness on
the tace ot Helen; but pride quickly flush-
editagain, The startled girl tried to as-
sume a haughty air, and did so in a mea-
sure, answering—

“Very well, ma’am, Tt shall be as you
say,” and not we ting for another word,
went quickly to her room, where she cried
bitterly for a long time.

* What is to become of her?” asked Mr.
Farley, when he heard that this young girl,
at the most critical period of her life, was
to be cast adrift: into the world, with no
one to care or guard her amid its thousand
dangers,

* That isno concern of mine,” answered
Mrs. Farley, ‘* Uye done my part by her,
and shall be conscience clear, She might
have kepta good home in my house, if
she had choose to conduct herself in a right
munner, Let her try the difference, ‘he
lesson will be salutary,”

Mr. Farley sighed. His thoughts was
on the perils that would beset her way.—
But he did not offer to mediate between
his wife and Ellen, The girl was nothing
to him; and of late the annoyances experi-
enced by his wife on her account had affec-
ted him unpleasantly, Then, while she
was in his family, a certain responsibility

be easier ia his mind if it were removed.
So, the argument that was in his thoughts,
and which might have been used effectu-

| dierence in sorrow to herselt,

rested with them, and he felt that he would janingled with concern in her voice. Ne

feeling of self approval with Mrs. Farley
Helen had gone out frequently in order tc
find another house.

jing ceased to manifest any right to contro
her movements, When she gave notice
that she ready to leay
came naturally as to where she was going

Farley.
** No, ma’am—not yet,” was answered

family, it was no part of Mrs. Farley’s| The yoice of Ellen betrayed a doubting,
plan to leave her in the state of idleness | fearful heart.

“You haven't!”

interest, no relenting quality.
are you going ?”

another place,

She stood a few moments with a thiling
t and half suffused eyes, looking into
- Farley's | A single kind word
would have held her back, and kept her
in that place of satety, a wiser girl, and a
stronger one to resist the enemies that
dwelt in her own bosom, She shrunk,

shivering und in fear, on the threshold
Y-

over which she was about passing, ling
ing even for a word of invitation to
but no word came, and she went drifting
out upon the sea of life, haying neither
chart nor
shipwreck.

**So much off my mind,” came audibly
from the lips of Mrs. Farley, and she drew
long breath of relict. But ¢ ro did
not pass wholly from her mind, ‘That was
impossible, Mrs. Parley was not entirely
lost to human sympathy; nor was con-
science an idle slumberer in her bosom,—
She understood the meaning of the last
troubled look that Ellen threw back upon
she went out; and knew, in her
rt, that the motherless girl did not
want to leave her,

‘She'll learn the difference between a
true friend and ontside people !” said Mrs.
Farley, nursing her unkind feelings to-
wards Ielen, who had tried her severely,
and fecling a certain pleasure in the fact
that the misguided girl would prove the
Again,
she said, in looking back oyer the trial-
passages of the past few months :—

504

compass, and certain almost of

into my family again.
in every way.”

Poor child!
Tar
ence?

of their duty.
minister; and the hire was to cancel all
obligation on her side. What was Helen
Bond to her more than any of the mother-
less creatures adrilt in the world? She felt
that, she had done even more than her
duty; or, rather let us say, tried to feel—
for conscience would make, ever and anon,
unwelcome suggestions, that trouvled her
peace of mind,

« Tm atraid that child's in danger!” said
Mr. Farley, a few weeks after Llelen went
forth from his home. ‘There was real con-
cern in his yoice.

** What of her?” asked bis wife, 2 sha-
dow crossing her face,

‘*T saw her on Chestnut street yester-
day. nud again to-day, in company with a
young man with whom I would as soon
think of trusting an innocent girl, as a
lamb with a wolf.”

** Bad stock, I'm afraid,” and Mrs. Far-
ley knit her brows, and tried to assume a
look of virthous displeasure,

* Bad training most lik
Mr. Farley. ‘*1t never struck me that
Helen was strong at heart. She is vain,
weak, and fond of d but iianocent, 1
ani sure,”

“She'll not be innocent long, I'm af-

raid,” suid Mrs. Parley, with some severity
of manner.”
‘Tyo often been sorry you permitted
her to go away,” replied her husband,—
«To save a soul from evil is the highest
work assigned a human being; and |
sometimes think, that, in sending this mo-
therless girlin our way, Providence assign-
ed to us that duty,”

** [don’t see it 80,” answered Mrs.
ley, not all liking that view of the case.
“Lhaye ny own children to care for, which
is about as much as [ean do.”

But, for all this, the remark of her hus-
band laid as a wait upon her feelings.

‘Lime moyed on. Helen, from the day
she went out, in evident tear and relue-
tance, from the sheltering haven of Mr.
Farley's household, never went back again,
She was hurt inthe separation, ‘The cold,
hard, unsympathising spirit in wbich Mrs
Farley parted with her, chilled to an iey
dislike the tearful sottness of feeling that,
could it have tree course, would have
thrown her sobbing, repentent, and plead-
ing upou her bosom, ILer good. angels
wept as she went over the threshold, She
fad made the acquaintance of a girl about
her own age; but the companionship was
not a safe one,
and pure-minded—vanity, love of dr
and admiration, were the dangereus de

” answered

place, was accepted. Hither went Hele
on leaving Mrs. Parley ; and here she made

who were visitors.

the breakers; and a fair bark went down
amid the seething water of sin and misery,
and there was no hand of deliverance!

said Mrs. Farley, as she sat one evening,

bosom. ‘There was a tone of interest
ly three months had passed since the gi
went away,

in his hand, and his response was a sudden

ally, was not olfered in Helen's favor,

ejuculation of pain.

The parting which took place a fow days
f : :
afterwards did not leave a very decided

In this she was left
entirely to her own will, Mra, Farley hav-

. the questton

* You've found another place,” said Mrs,

‘ Cold surprise was in
She must be use-| Mrs, Farley's tones, but no sympatyy, no
* Where

“To stay with a triend antil I can find
Maybe Vl learn a trade.”

**Tshall never permit her to return.—
Nothing would tempt me to receive her
A happy riddence

Adrift, and without chart or compass!
lkow was it possible tor Mrs,
»y to rest a moment in ealm_ indiffer-
To her had been assigned the duty
of guarding, guiding aud saving an im-

her household not of her own blood, but
They were to serve and

Helen was really innocent |

fects in her character—but this person was
naturally depraved. Helen had mentioned
her break with Mrs, Farley, and the girls
prompt invitation to make her mother’s
place her home, until she cou! d get another

the acquaintince of several young men
By one of these she
was selected as a victim; and in her weak-
ness, trust, and blindness, fell into the
snares that were laid for her unwary feet.

the first strong wind threw her right among

“T wonder what has become of Helen ?”

with a sleeping baby held against her

Mr, Farley had a newspaper

** What is the matter ?” asked his wife.

“Tris all over with the poor girl!’, A
wave of anguish swept across the counte-
nance of Mr, Farley.

“Who? What? You don’t mean Helen ?”’
The face of Mrs. Farley reflected that of
her husband,

**T mean Helen,” was his answer, speak-
ing ina disturbed manner. ‘ Poor, un-
guarded chill! We ought never to haye
cast her adrift.”

** What of her, Mr. Farley?”

“She is dead!”

“ Dead!"

Yes; dead in disgrace and sfn.
way downwards his been swift.”

1

ler

Mrs, Farley groaned aloud.
se] 3 the sad story.” And her hus-

band read trom the paper in his hands how
a beautiful young girl, named Helen Bond,
had been found dead in a house of ill-re-
pute. A vial, labelled ** Sulphate of Mor-
yhin,” indicated the means by which she
had p laway. A few remarks as to
her history were given, and the regret ad-
ded that no one had suilicient interest in
the motherles 1 to throw around her
the protection of # virtuous home,
Conscience, which had been unheeded,
now lifted its voice aloud, and smote the
ear of Mr. Farley with words so full of
stern accusation, that her heart shook, and
fear united in her soul with pain, She felt”
that guilt lay at her door, and the stain of
blood upon her garments. Ah, how vivid-
ly came back tl -e of Helen as she went
out trom the home in which she had found
areluge, agitated and full of grief and
fear! It seemed to Mrs. Farley that a sha-
dow of coming evil must have been cast
there upon the girl’s heart, filling it with
dismay.

Goa forgive me if I did wrong in this
thing!” she said, in a troubled yoice,
speaking rather to herselt than for the ears
of her husband,

“Itis too late for regrets now. The
work is done,” was the answer.

And then silence fell upon their lips, and
they sat brooding over Llelen’s unhappy
tate, with the burilen of a great responsi-
bility resting painfully upon their souls.

Bat, as Mr, Parley had said, it was too
late for regrets. ‘Pho work was done and
there was no repentinee in the grave.

MRS. GAUDLE'S CURTAIN LECTURES.

MR, CAUDLE, HAVING COME HOMF A LITTLE

“* IE WILL HAVE A KEY.”

“Upon my word, Mr. Caudle, I think it
© waste of time to come home at all nowt
The cocks will be crowing in a minute-

mo oul; but, ESE ee and} Why did 2 sit up then? Because 1 choose:
erent 5 - i % \f j
‘ : I, ane ht per-!to sit up—but that’s my thanks, No, it's
Becta aman precios TIGL AT PTI aoe eee
yitence en Tale ) et the virl si Pye, end oy
BILe GhiZcee HITR Uenersunuge sto Matus UC FORGO tia SYR EY 2 Why dees she st

up with me then? That's quite a different
matter; you don’t suppose ['m going to sit
alone, do you? What do you say? What's
the use of two sitting up? That's my busi-
ness. No, Caudle, it's no such thing. I
dowt sit up because I may haye the plea-
sure of talking about it; and your an un-
grateful, unfeeling creature, to say so. I
sit up because IT choose it; and if you don't
come home all the night long—and ‘twill
soon come to that—Pve no doubt—still,
Vl never go to bed, so don’t think it.

‘Oh yes! the time runs away very plea-
santly with you men at your clubs—selfish
ereatiires! You can laugh and sing, and
tell stories, and never think of the clock;
never think there’s such a person as a wite
belonging to you. It’s nothing to you that
a poor woman's sitting up, and telling the
minutes, and seeing all sorts of things in
the fire—and sometimes thinking some-
thing dreadful has happened to you—more
tool she for caring a straw about you!—
This is all nothing. Ohno! when a wo-
mitn’s once married she’s as —Wworse
than a slave—and aust bear it all!

“And what you men can find to talk
about LT can’t think? Tustead of a man. sit-
ting every night at home with his wile,
and going to bed at a Christian hour—
going to vclub, to meet a set of people
who don’t care a button for him—its mon-
strous! What do you say? You only go
once a week? ‘Lhat’s nothing at all to do
With it: you might as well go every night;
and I daresay you will soon, Butif you
do, you may get in as you can; J wou't sit
up for you, I can tell you.

“My health’s been destroyed night after
night, and—oh, don’t say its only once a
week; [ tell you, that’s nothing to do with
it—il you had any eyes, you would see how
ill Lamy; but you've no eyes for anybody
belor ging to you; oh no! your eyes are
for people out of doors, . IVs very well
for you to call me a foolish, aggravating
woman! Tsbould like to see the woman
who'd sit up for youasl do. You didwt
want me to sit wy Yes, yes; that’s your
thanks—that’s your gratitude; Pin to ruin
iny health, and to be abused for it. Nice
principles you’ve got at that club, Myr.
Caudle,

“But there's one comfort—ono great
comfort; it can’t last long; Um sinking—
I fecl itythough [never say anything about
it—but [know my own teeliugs, and Tsay
it can’t Rist long. And then I should like
to kuow-who will sit up for you! ‘Phen I
{should like to know how your second wile
— whit do you say? You'll never be troubled
\with another? Troubled. indeed? J never
troubled you, Caudle, No; it’s you who've
troubled me; and you know it; though
like a foolish woman I've borne it all, and
nerer said a word about it. But it eant
last—ihat’s one blessing!

“Oh, ita woman could only know what
she'd have to suffer, before she Was mar-
ried—Don't tell me you want to go to
sluep! Ifyou want to go to sleep, you
should come home at proper heurs! [t's
time to get up, for what I know, now.
Shoulda't wouder if you hear the milk in
live minutes—there'’s the sparrows up al-
ready ; yes, I say the sparrows; and, Cau-
dle, you ought to blush to hear ‘em, You
don't hear ‘em? Hal you won't hear ‘em,
youmean: Jhear’em. No, Mr. Caudle;
it isn’t the wind whistling in the key-hole ;
{'m not quite foolish, though you may think
sv. IL hope I know wind trom # sparrow!

Ha! when I think what a man you
were before we were married! But you're
now another person —quite an altered
creature. But 1 suppose you're all alike—
{ dare say, every poor woman’s troubled
and put upon, though I should hope not
so much as Tam, Tatted, 1 should hope
not! Going and staying out, and——

4

There Was no one to watch over or give
her a word of warning, Alone, and advift,

Pane