ne 129 ep bine oo beiiadenidiinedines..4. ae ee a ee CHARLOTTETOWN, ws eatin’ dete tetina 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. 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