ty tied DE VOTED TOL AND WESTER N PIONEER. ITERA TURE, SCIENCE, COMMERCE, AGRICULTURE, AND NEWS. Number 61 e, Prince Edward No. 9. Vol. 2.—Whole Summerside Journal 18 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED RVERY THURSDAY EVENING, BY BERTRAM & BARNARD, AT THEIR OFFICE, CENTRAL STREET, TERMS: 1 copy for one year, in advance, 6s. 3d. wy ae half advance 7s. 6s. Persons getting up Clubs of Ten Subscribers will be entitled to the Jownal for one year RATES OF ADVERTISING: One square for 12 months, £210 0 do ** 6 months, 110 0 do ** 3 months, 018 0 do first insertion, 05 0 do each subsequentin. 0 1 3 All communications should be addressed to nrrTRAM & narNarp, andthe Postage, in all cases, prepaid. The following gentlemen have consent- ed to act as Agents, and they are authori- sed to receive monies, and give receipts, an our account ; Charlottetown—W. 1%. Dawson, Esq. Henry Ilarvie, Esq. Centreville—Major Wright, Esq Upper Bedeque—Wm, G. Strong, Esq 7'ryon—George Muttart, Esq St. Eleanor's—W. ‘I. Hunt & Co Caseunpec—Benjamin Rogers, Esq Margate—Reuben Luplin, Esq New London—Pidgeon & Stewart Malpeque—D & P McNutt Southport—Henry Beer, Esq Vernon River—Mr, George Vickerson Georgetown—Andrew LeBrocque, Esq Port Hill—David Ramsay, Esq. Tignish—Benjamin Haywood, Esq Miscouche—Joseph B. Perry. Crapaud—Charles Collit. JOB PRINTING of evory description, performed with neatness and despatch, and at moderate rates, at the Jounnat Office. Summerside Markets, Summersipk, Dee. 6, 2866. 25 3da Qs 4d 38 a 3s Gd - ls Sdiads 6d Oats per bush Barley per bush - Potatoes per bush ‘Turnips per bush -- Isaleld Butter per lb by ‘Tub - - - lg als ld Lard per 1b --- $da lod Tallow per db. ------------ 9d a 10d Tigges per doz ---+-----°-- Md a 10d Beef perlb -------------> 3da 4d Mutton per lb - -- --- 3da 4d Pork per lb by carcass -- 3da 44d Geese each -+--- - - 1s 6da ls 9d -- 50s a 60s - 14s a lis -- 508 a GOs Flour per bbl - Oatmeal per cwt. - - Hay per Ton - - - - - Straw per cwt. ------ - Is 6d Pine Boards ------- 5 0a) e Spruce Boards ------------ 4s 0 5s ness Gards, Busi BANK OF PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND. Corner of Queen § Water Sts., Charlottetown President—Hon. ‘Tuomas H. Havinanp. Cashier-—-WintiamM Cunpaun, [squire. Discount Days—Mondays & Thursdays. Hours of Business—Fom 10 a.m, to 1 p.m., from 2 p.m to 4 p.m. UNION BANK. Grafton St., Queen's Square, Charlottetown President—Cuantes Parmer, Esquire. Cashier—Jamrs ANDERSON, Esquire. Discount Days—Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Hours of Business—From 10 a.m to Lp m from 2 p.mto 4pm SUMMERSIDE BANK. Central Street, Summerside, P. E. Island. President—Ifon, Joun R. Ganpixen. Cashier—TE. TL. Lypia Esquire Discount Days—Tues: and Fridays. Notes for Discount must be in before 11 o'clock on Discount days. Hiours of Business—10 a. m., tol p.m. from 2 p. m., to 4 p.m : DR. PRICE, Physician & Surgeon, Ovricr-—At the SumMErsipr Drug Srorr, next door to Bank, Central Street SUMMERSIDE, ..... 2. B. ISLAND, October 12, 1865. to the inhabityyMe ty, that he hy (formerly J may be cofsultyp of his Profession, a’ Stanley Bridgh, Oct. 18, 1866. — JOHN HOMER, M.D.F. M.M.8. MEDICAL OFFICE OVER GREEN & SCHURMAN’S STORE, WATER STREET, SUMMERSIDE, P.E.1. GHORGER ALLEY, BARRISTER AND Attorney-at-Law, NOTARY PUBLIC, &C. Telegraph Buildings, Water Street, Charlottetown, ------- -----), KF, Island. ‘EB. D. STAIR, CABINET-MAKER, AND Undertaker. FURNITURE OF ALL KINDS MADE TO ORDER, Kent Street, - .-----+- «++ Oharlottetown. Sept. 1666, 6m . THOMAS KELLY, Barrister - at - Law AND NOTARY PUBLIC, &o. SUMMERBIDE,- - - - P, E. ISLAND aug, 9, 1866 ly * Summersid Business Gards,. WILLIAM BEAIRSTO, Commission Merchant, Auctioneer & General Agent, WATER STREET, P. E, Island Summerside, Summerside, Oct. 12; 1865, DAVID BERTRAM, Saddle and Harness Maker, Water Strect . . . . . Summerside. October 12, 1865. ly : James Greenough, FLOUR Commission Merchant, No 47 Commercial Street Corner of Clinton Street - - - - - BOSTON J. F. HILL & 60., DEALERS IN Potatoes, Apples, Onions, Horeign & Domestic Hruits, Cranberries, Beans, Green & Dried Apples Stalls 107 and 109. and Cellar No. 19, Faneuil Hall Market SOULH SIDE BOSTON. H. J. RICHARDSON, COMMISSION MERCHANT Auctioneer. Flour, Groceries, and Dry Goods. Water Strect ...... Summerside. CARVELL BROTHERS, AUCTIONEERS, Commission Merchants’ And General Agents, BANK BUILDING, QUEEN STREET. Charlottetown, - - - - - P. 2, Island. WILLIAM DODD, Commission Merchant, And Auctioneer;” QUEEN SQUARE, CHARLOTTETOWN --- P. BE. ISLAND THOMAS IANFORD, AUCTIONEER AND Commission Merchant, Si’. JOHN, N. B. Novy 1, 1865 ly J. I, GIBSON, Plain ¢ Ornamental HOUSE & SIGN PALNTER, Summerside, .... DP. #. Island. October 12, ey ee A CARD. TYNHE subscriber having purchased the STOCK IN TRADE of James L. Hotman at St. Eleanor’s, the bugindss in fature will be conducted by, him, ) AseEs his intention to keep constantly.on hand 4 variety of goods adapted for the country trade, he respectfully solicits a share of public patronage, ALBERT L, ANDERSON. St. Eleanor's, April 10, 1866, Dealer in JOHN ANDREW MACDONALD, | Importer of Dry Goods, Hardware, Crockeryware, Groceries, stoves, Furniture, &c. &e. P. E. Island. A. W. ANDRE'S Marble Works, Point Du Chene, Shediae, Sumnerside, Monuments, Tombs, Grave- stones, &c. American & Italian Marble con- stantly on hand. Sold at a less price than at any other estab- lishinent in the Provinces. 718, 1865, §. TPHE Subscribe 60 Bbls, Il. Summerside, Nov 1, London, A MAIAY class. Speedy appli the Subseriber. By order of the MAE Subscriber hay alteration in his b fA prompt Settleme to him, would here, persons indebted or otherwise, to p on or before the are ready for delivery. STE ____PORTRY. (For the Journal.) Summerside Links composed by the Reverend Dr. New- MAN, on a voyage from Palermoto Mar- seilles, when becalmed in the Straits of Bonifacio; and before his secession from the Anglican Church :— Lead kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on; The night is dark, and I am far from home, Lead Thou me on! Keep Thou my feet, I do not ask to see The distant scene—one step enough for me. I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou Should’st lead me on; I loved to choose and see my path, but now Lead Thou mé on! I loved the garish day, and spite of fears Pride ruled my will—remember not past years. So long Thy power hath led me on, it still Will lead me on; : O'er moor and fen, o’er crag, and torrent, till The night is gone! And with the morn those angel faces smile, Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile. ON READING THE ABOVE: T once enjoyed the light, but now, no more Jt shines 6n me; The shades of night descend—the day is o'er, And where is He ? My gentle guide! who every care bestowed, But, ill requited, left me on the road ? Yor I was rash, and on myself relied, Nor wished His stay; And soon, bewildered in the trackless wild, I went astray ; And then, false lights alluring radiance threw O'er mystic seenes—and I must needs pursue. Far from my home, lost, and enwrapped in gloom, Jan I return? Abandoned duties, yet again resume ?— Ah no, they'll spurn The fond companion of their efrly youth, So fur estranged,—so long opposed to truth !— Not s0, poor wanderer! by their Saviour taught ‘To pity all; They will receive thee as good Christians ought— > Weep o’er thy fall— Rejoice at thy return—and swell the sound Of angel triumph, o’er a lost one found. Charlotteown, Dee. 1, 1866. WATCRAA ~ Seloct Piterature. KELETON ROMANCE. BY MARION HARLAND, ‘Wuat have I been doing with myself, all this long, hot afternoon?” Just what you see meé doing now, ma chere—sitting »y this apper window, and looking across the yard and the lane, at the old mill.” * Picturesque,” did you call it? Please pick up my pocket lexicon from the table, there; I never travel without it. One likes to be accurate even in trifles of litera- ture, you know. I want you to look out the exact meaning of that word which people have a fashion of loosing so loosely. ‘EExpressing that peculiar kind of beauty whichis agreeable in a picture, Whether natural on artificial!” Indeed! Then, really and truly, my mill is a pie- turesque object, devoid of pretension as it is architecturally, with its square windows and narrow eaves. Tor the elms meet over the roof, mack you! and the water above the gate, ndeep, dark mirror—a Claude Lorraine reflector of the overhang- ing foliage, the buildings, the sky, and the nearest mountains; while below the wheel it tumbles into angry foam, and rushes madly away ont of sight beneath the arch- way of the bridge, And the calinly-flow- ing, bright river beyond looks well in the sunset, does it not? and the background of hills, rising row above row, into the more distant mountuinridge, are, as the Scotch critic said of Mrs, Siddons’ Lady Macbeth, ‘‘na’ sae bad.” But the mill! I always loved a mill! Is not this delicious—the fragrance that the bruised grain gives out, and which the evening breeze trom the water brings fresh and sweet into my window? TI pre- fer it to the finest ottar of rose—the most voluptuous breath of patchouli or mille- fleurs. Shakspeare’s bank of violets was insipid in comparison. When a child, I used to sit, for hours, half buried in a heap of golden maize or wheat, upon the upper floor of «a mill belonging to our unele, on whose farm we sometimes rusti- cated for a month or sog and dream and read to my heart’s content, undisturbed by the jolly miller, who took me under his especial protection, For I was a child once, and believed in the reality of some things in this cheating, lying, painted world; such, for instance, as troth and lriendship, and the joy of reciprocal de- votion and constancy, through good report and evil report, to the one beloyed—and the like humbug, II »! how long it seems since [left off dreaming! and yet Lam not to say very old! Just: thirty-two last month—and, thanks to the exeellent eave Thaye taken of my physique, [might easily be mistaken for twenty-five, Don't you think so?) For my teeth are my own; ditte my hair and complexion, which is more than some belles can say. “You begin to understand why [ en- joy this window and the view of the mill? It rejuvenates me”—you think ? My dear, allow me to say that you were never more ridiculously mistaken in your lite, J feel as aged as Methusaleh, sitting here, and staring down the tedious vista of years lyiug between me and my child- hood, It seems a hundred years and more since L was twenty-one years old and caine up to this very farm-house to recruit iter my first regular winter in society. “You did not know that I had ever been here before?” Of course not! Who was there to tell you this? Yet you must have seen that the old farmer and_ his wife down stairs saluted me as an old ac- quaintance. They have lived here ever j for your modest e) Island, Thursday, house so long! and I don’t think they have changed ten articles of furniture or altered December 6, 1866. | “Tt is the healthiest region in the State! said Mr. Milnor, in announcing to me the jsudden that I had notime for retreat. He came forward in a style that was neither so much as a window about the place in all | plan he had conceived for my benefit, | boorish nor servile in its courtesy. that time. * You like that quaint old homestead !" Did I intimate that [did not? Again, let me say that you do not know what you king about! Yes! Jsee that you think me very cross and sharp—actually savage, in Iact-—and this phase of my character puzzles you, for you have hitherto scen me gay and good-humored, whatever might occur to ruitle other peoples’ tempers. Don’t pro- voke me, then, by asking questions! 1 hate to be catechized, : No! I don't *t wish to be left alone,” and I like to study you. You look inno- cent and confiding, and as if you were still the proprietor of a heart, and as_ I said of myself, in my childish days—as if you be- lieved in ** things.” What book is that which you are opening as a resting-place ? A novel! Bah! Why do people write them, I wonder when eyery ons Who has ifved fo the age of thirty ean revive the incidents of a reai romance that will stir the depths of his heart as no cold, printed page can eyer do, however great and skilful inuy have been the narrator who transcribed it? Pens are not tongues, child, nor are words heart-bents. Therefore, real heart-histor- ies will never be either written or told. And, as the slang comedians have it, there is where the laugh comes in—inasmuch as authors are perpetually trying to do what is impossible, and their readers fancying that they have succeeded in doing it, “Don't I read romances?” Another uestion, you little interrogation-point! But [will be merciful, and answer you. [ do read love stories. [have been busy with one this livelong afternoon. The rumble and roar of the water-wheel ever there is the whir of the machinery that has unrolled a panoramic picture to my view. The yellow August son-shine and the odor of the bruised corn were accessories to the representation, Let me see! you are just eighteen, are you not? Well! Iwas three years older when, as I said, just now, I came up to this beautiful valley to pass a couple of months. I was the eldest of three daugh- ters, and my father had no sons. It was but right and proper, therefore, that he should expect his girls to make creditable inatches, that the family pride might be upheld thereby. The next best thing to having a distinguished son, is to having a distinguished son-in-law—one whose pri- yate life would become public property, In the acquisition of this, a leading ques- tion would necessarily be—**Whom did he marry?” The answer—* A daughter of Ralph Milnor,” would link together the Milnor.neme and that of the celebrity. Tuvois, mon innocente—iest-ce-pas 2? Now if the truth be told, the Milnor pedigree would bear a little more ornament than had, as yet, embellished the P s of that mythical volume. Our paternal grand- sire was a plain farmer, You recollect that I spoke of the mill which belonged to his eldest son? Of my mother’s parents, we know just nothing at all; but there was 2 whispered tradition in the family to the effect that a man, bearing the same name as did her father, had lived and died an honest boot-maker, in an out-of-the-way street in the town wherein my mother con- fessed to have been born; But Ralph Milnor was one of the ‘* solid men” of the honored as the place of his residence. By solidity, [need not explain, even to your unsophisticated comprehension, is signi- fied wealth of dollars, rather than weight of character or intellectual calibre. Added to his worth in this respect, my father possessed an oily fluency of speech, a bland countenance, and manners which superficial observers called polished, Un- derneath this disgnise—but, never mind! you have heard the story of the iron hand and the velvet glove too often to care to have me repeat « new edition of the same, To his children he was indulgent—or, so said lookers-on. Ife denied us no eduea- tional or social advantage that money could buy. Our clothing was handsome; our home the embodiment of elegant com- fort, and when I, the senior by four years, of the second daughter, came out,” my first party and my winter's wardrobe were the admiring enyy of all our acquaintances. If this solid citizen and model parent had a favorite in his household) band, it was I. In personal appearance—you will excuse me for asserting it—I bore off the palm from nine-tenths of my young ciates. Tsang passably: talked easily, if not wittily, and, to borrow another stage phrase—** drew” well in higher circles than those in which my parents had been reared, My watehful guardian attended me every where—an evidence of his regard for me whieh T rather enjoyed for a whil but found decidedly irksome, when invi- tations began to shower upon me from younger, and, to my taste, more attrac- tive men. His persistency in this respect was the earliest intimation I had of his de- termination to retain the choice of a life- partner for me in his own hands. 1 was quick-sighted, aud I soon observed that he exercised over my intercourse with mar- riugeable gentlemen surveillance ceaseless as stealthy, I hardly knew whether to be most nettled or diverted at this discovery for, among my swarm of adinirers, there was not one for whom I entertained the least preference, beyond that which a girl may naturally feel for a graceful compan- ion in the dance, or an amusing talker who ean beguile away a hull hour at an even- ing party. I liked to be admired. I like it still—about as wellus Ido auything, I belic But, even then, this very tond- ness for the applause of the many was one of the strongest dissuasives to concentra- tion of the affections upon any one person. Lloyed pleasure and I loved liberty too well, L was wont to deelare, to think of snerificing these while youth and good looks insured my enjoyment of them, I had a gay winter, and, so fir as popu- larity with the crowd was concerned, a very successful one. The next summer found me a little fagged-out, and my futher and mother, after consultation graye and confidential, decided that neither watering-plice nor mountain hotel should be brightened by my presence that season, An early friend and neighbor af my father’s—Mr. Reynolds—still cultivated, in peace and contentment, his patrimonial since theirmarriage—-forty years, I believe. acres in the immediate vicinity of what Wonat a bore it must be to occupy the same | had been my grandfather's farm, seen pene no Batate ** And you, who are so fond of fine scenery. will enjoy the «di and walks among the mountains, The seclusion willbe a positive benefit to you in more respects than one, You will regain your bloom and enjoy city life all the more after your return, wid your temporary loss will make your society the more attractive to those who haye missed you. Take plenty of books, drawing materials, worsteds—or whatever you young PS amuse your- selves with in your leisure hours—for you will tind few companions of your own rank in that pareof the country. And mind”—he naded, wiltlr his blandest smile, Which f€knew always denoted a peculiar firmnes® oPresolution—* that you do not fallin love with any of the rustie swains whom you happen to see driving the plough and hoeing potatoes,” Ile stopped there, but I comprehend the full import of his prohibition, and con- gratulated myself upon the extreme im- pyebability of my ever committing an Action so awkward and shsurd as that which he forbade. IIe escorted me up to the farm him- self, remaining but an hour, howeyer, with his boyhood’s friend, and hurrying off to catch the return train to the city. Mrs. Reynolds had served a luncheon for us, we having arrived too late for the twelve o'clock dinner, and alter I had bidden my father farewell and sought my chamber—the one in which we are now seated—I drew up a chair to this window and prepared to enjoy solitude and the country, It was not dificult to admire the latter, but the first lacked the element which some Frenchman—Voltaire, T be- lieve—siys is requisite to the perfect en- joyment of the same, to wit, 2 companion to whom one can exclaim, '* Qu’ elle est charmante—la solitude !” The farmer had two sons—one a young married man, who, with his wife and three children, continued to reside under the paternal roof; the other a boy of sixteen, who had shrunk into the amill to e tvation, as we drove up to the house door, ‘These, with Mr, and Mrs. Reynolds and two hired servants, eonsti- tuted the household in which L was to pass six or cight weeks, It was no marvel that I felt homesick, as hour after hour went by, and the whirl of the mill-wheel, the distant shouts of the older children, the ery of a babe, and the cackle of a hen who seemed never tired of exulting over a newly-luid egg, were the only sounds that refreshed my ears, while not asonl ap- proached my room, Regarding these us samples of rural enjoyments, I looked for ward, with a sinking heart, to the weari- some days in reserve for me betore the term of my seclusion should be completed. The lower rim of the great, fiery san at touched the western ridge of moun- tains, and I seized my hat, resolved upon following the windings of the stream, making it amy de in the exploration ol the valley, the ities of which had ren- dered even my prosale father eloquent. I s passing the mill just there—do you see that tall clump of grass? IT eould ay my hand upon that very spot—when the sound of music within checked my steps. A clear, powerinl bass voice was singing the pretty little trifle entitled, * Nathalie, the Maid of the Mill.” You have heard it, perhaps, TIneyer did until then, Ever sinee, the rushing beat of that old wheel has kept time to it in any imagination, Hark !if it does not! “Down the stream, as cheerily Beside the mill we row, Where the echoes merrily Their playful chorus throw, Tra, la, la, la, To the pretty Nathalie A passing draught we fill; Swecetly sings she there, Where tic tae, tie tac,’ goes the mill. There is nothing worth remembering in either words or music, you see; a tripping, sing melody, such as any country ee 100] master might teach his pupils ecute with tolerable suecess, Jsut the hat I heard had neither the rustic drawlnortwang. It was sonorous, round, pure, and the words were eccentuated as no district schoolmaster could ever do him- self, much less train others to imitate, So, as L have said, my feminine curiosi- ty got the better of my prudence, and 1 halted—nay, more—I leaned forward tar enough to obtain a view of the interior of the building. ‘The whole of the lower floor was taken up by one large room, lighted by four windows, ‘There were rows of plethoric sacks along one wall; the great cylinder beam, such as 1 had seen in my unele’s inill, was turning in the middle, and on cither side were the troughs slant- ing down from the upper floor, each with its stream of meal or flour pouring into the boxes below. ‘The tloor was covered with showy powder, which became yellow as gold dust where the sunshine fell across it through the western windows, and in the broad track of these beams, the air was full of glittering motes. ‘There was a back door, looking out upon the river, and against the post of this stood the unknown i an, He was dressed in white—a trowsers, with straw hat—such attire asa gentleman might assume in the country, yet which was not inconsistent with the occupation of a Miller who had some re- gard for his personal appearance, A Miller I decided him to be, at a second glance, for his curling beard, black by nature as arayen’s wing, wassilvered with the white dust that lay everywhere, and he was the only tenant of the building. The river danced and glowed behind him; the sunlight stretched to his feet, and the wheel beat an accompaniment to his roundelay; and T stood without, spell- bound, like a silly village-maid who had never heard a fine voice or seen a hand- some man before. For he was handsome, my dear! Ihave seen him since, when the glamour of a girl’s fervid taney no longer invested him with a robe of its own weav- ing, and [ say, dispassionately and frank- ly, that Th: y, ever, seen amore splendid specimen of manhood, He was tull and deep of chest, erect in cariage, and ebon-haired and @) This much | had remarked, when an im- pertinent swallow swooped across the Lront | sunshine upon the floor caused the |to tuge