ae a4 SE ea ee Sum ‘site 4 AND WESTERN PIONEER. DE VOTED TO LITERATURE, § S CIENCE = = , COMMERCE, AGRICULTURE, AND NEWS. Vol. 2.—Whole Number BB. Summerside, Prince Edward Island, Thursday, October 95, 1866, No. 3, THE Summerside Journal 48 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED KVERY THURSDAY EVENING, by BERTRAM & BARNARD, AY THEIR OFFICE, RAL STREET, TERMS: 1 Copy for one year, in adyance, 6s. 3d. mm half advance 7s. 6s, Persons getting up Clubs of Ten Subscribers will be entitled to the Jewnal tor one year, RATES OF ADVERTISING: One square for 12 months, £2 10 0 do ** 6 months, 110 U do * $ months, 018 U do first insertion, gy) do each subsequentin, 0 1 3 All communications should be addressed to perrkaMm © pannanp, andthe Postage, i es, prepaid, The following gentlemen have consent- ed to act as Agents, and they ave authori- sed to receive monies, und give receipts, on our account : Charlottetown—W. EF. Dawson, Esq. Henry Harvie, Hsq. Centreville—Major Wright, Esq Upper Bedeque—Wum. G. Strong, Esq Tryon—George Muttart, Esq St. Kleanor's—W. 'T. Hunt & Co Cascumpec—Benjamin Rogers, Esq Margate—Reuben Tuplin, Esq New Londoa—Vidgeon & Stewart. Malpeque—1) & P McNutt. Southport—WWenry Beer, Esq Vernon River—Mr. George Vickerson Georgetown—Andrew LeBrocque, Esq Port Hill—David Ramsay, Esq. Tignuish—Benjanin Haywood, Esq. Miscouche—Joseph b. Perry. Crapaud—Charles Collit. JOB PRINTING of every description, performed with neatness and despatch, and at moderate rates, at the Journan Office. — ake "Summerside Markets, SuMMERsSIpE, Oct. Oats per bush - Barley per bush - Potatoes per bush - - - ‘Yurnips per bush - - - 5, 1806. 2sa Ys 3d ---+- Ss ads Gd ---+ Isldals 3d Is 2d a ts 6d Butter per lb by ‘Tub ------- Is lads 2d Tard por ib + «+ ----+----== fda 10d "allow per Ib, = - - ---- ha 10d KEyys per doz --------<--+ $d aw 10d Beef perlb dda dd Mutton per lb - - - -- --- Ba dd Pork per lb by earcas --- dda dd Geese cach ++ +---- - 1s Gd wis Od Flour per bbl - - -- - - -- 50s a 608 lds a lds -- 50s a 60s - Is Gd, 28 -- 10s ---4dsais Oatmeal per owt, - Hay per ‘Ton - - ++ - - Straw per ewl. 1 Boards. - - - - - - Spruce Bourds Business B. ANK OF PRINCE E DIWARD ISLAND. Corner of Queen § Water Sts., Charlottetown Qards. Tuomas UU. Havirann. Ee eatatties Cun 4 Esquire. Discount Da Mondays & ‘Thursdays. Hours of Business—Iom 10 a.m. to L p.m. from 2 p.m, to 4 pan, President—Uon. U NION BANK. Grafton St., Queen's Square, President—Cuanies Parmer Cashier—J AMES Dise ount Day s—Momilays Fy “Wedne sdays, and Saturdays. Hours of Business—From 10am to Lp m trom 2Ypmto 4pm ‘ UMME RSIDI BANK. Central Street, Summerside, PE. bland, President—Ifon. Joun R. Ganpriver, Cashier—E. L. Lyoranp, Esquire Discount Days—Tnesdays and Bridiys, Notes for Discount aust be in befure 11 o'clock on Discount days. Hours of Business—10 a. m., to 1 p.m. from 2 p.m., to 4 pom Charlottetown squire, JAS. WILLIAMSON, Commission Merchant, MONTREAL, is }repared to receive all orders for Flour, Cornmeal, Leather Tobacco, & on Lreasonable dLerms. NEF ERENCE D. Rogers, Esy., - - - Sihcenlls, P.ET. John P, Thurgar, Esq., - - St. John, N. 1B. Messrs. B. Douglas & Co., Ainherst, N.S., July 26, 1866. tf. James Greenough, “hue o Commission Merchant. No 47 Commercial Street Cornér of Clinton Street BOSTON a Fa luee OD, DEALERS IN Potatoes, Apples, Onions, Moreign & Domestic Mruits, Cranberries, Beans, Green & Dried Apples, Stalls 107 and 109. and Cellar No. 19, Faneuil Hall Market SOUTH SIDE BOSTON, OAT WILLIAM BEAIRSTO, Commission Merchant, Auctioneer & General Agent, WATER STREVT, Summerside, Summerside, Oct. 12, 1865, DAVID BERTRAM, Saddle and Harness Maker » KB. Island Water Street... .. Summorsfte; October 12, 1865. ly Business i Gard 8, THOMAS KELLY, Barrister - at - AND NOTARY PUBLIC, &c, SUMMERSIDE, - - = FB. aug. 9, 1866 lr Tin aw ISLAND GEORGE ALLEY, BARRISTER AND Attorne y-at-Law, NOTARY PUBLIC, &C. Telegraph Buildings, Water Strect, Charlottetown, P. EB, Island, WILLIAM DODD, Commission Merchant, And Auctioneer, QUEEN SQUAKE, CHARLOTTETOWN P, ISLAND H. J. RICHAR.SON, COMMISSION MERCHANT © Auctioneer. Dealer in Flour, Groceries, and Dry Gooda. Water Strect...... Summerside. CARVELL BROTHERS, AUCTIONEERS, Commission Merchants, And General Agents, BANK BUILDING, QUEEN STREET, Charlottetown, - = - P. EL. Island. ‘THOMAS HANFORD, AUCTIONEER AND Commission Merchant, ST. JOIN, N. B. _ Noy A 1865 ly “DRS. PRICE & BLACK, Physicians & Surgeons, Ovrice—At the SumMersipe Drea Stross next door to Bank, Central Stree SUMMERSIDE, P, Bk. ISLAND oO Multis Wo) wo ay, J. IL. GIBSON, Plain & Ornamental WOUSE& SIGN Summerside, .... DP. B. Island. _ Oetober 12, 1865, Archibald McKay. MONCTON, N. B., Contractor and Agent for the purchase and siule of— Ship Timber, Masts, Plank, House Frames, and Lumber of all kinds. 49" Orders tor shipment will receive promp attention. Thomas ALLEY, Charlottetown, Sinas Barnann, E an May 17, 1866, Isl. DOS | CABINET- MAKER, AND Undertalzer. FURNITURE OF ALL KINDS MADE TO ORDER, Kent Street, Charlottetown, Sept, 1866. A CARD. FUMIE subscriber having purchased — the STOCK IN TRADES of Janes L. HLona an at St. Eleanor's, the business in future will he conducted by him, Asat is his intention to keep constantly on hind Ww variety of goods adapted for the spun trade, he respec sufully solicits a share of public patronage, ALBERT L. AND St. Bleanor's, April LO, 1866. JOUN ANDREW MACDONALD, Importer of Dry Goods, Hardware, Crockerywaré, Groceries, stoves, Furniture, &e. &e. Summerside, -<----- °- 2. ds Island A, W. ANDRES Marble Works, Point Du Chene, Shediac, 6m. ERSON, Monuments, mbs, Grave- stones, &c. American & Italian Marble con- stantly on hand, Sold af a less price than at any other estab- Ijshment in the Provinces, _ Point Du chene, N, B., oct. 18, 1868, Garriage Factory! At Long River, New London TEMA subscriber begs, leave fo acquaint the public that he has‘every facility for turn- ing out a FIRST CLASS C2 {RRIAGE and SLEIGH, Vie bostaf mounting guaranteed and in the first style. All who want d goody % serviceable Waggan oF Sleigh will do wellto call at the Long Ri¥er Carriage Factory. Argo—All kinda of Blacksmith work, such as Csrriage and Sleigh Mounting, Plough Mounting, Horse Shoeing, Ship work, &e., done on the promises with neatness & despatch | \ DONALD BEATC Long River, New London, aug. 16, 1866, Bin nee PORTRY. ONLY WAITING. A very aged man in an alms-house was asked what he was doing now. He replied, “Only waiting.” Only waiting till the shadows Are a little longer grown; Only waiting till the glimmer Of the day's last beam is flown; Till the night of earth is faded From the heart once full of day ; Till the stars of 1 en are breaking ‘Through the twi-light soft and gray . Only waiting till the reapers Ilave the Jast sheaf gathered home, For the Summer-time is faded, And the Autumn winds have come; Quickly, reapers ! gather quickly The last ripe hours of my heart, For the bloom of life is withered, And I hasten to depart. Only waiting till the angels Open wide the mystic gate, At whose feet I long have lingered, Weary, poor and desolate ; Even now LI hear their footsteps, And their yoices ta If they call me, Tam w Only waiting to obey. Only waiting till the shadows Are a little longer grown; Only waiting till the glimmer Of the day’s last beam is flown; Then from out the gathering darkness Holy, deathless stars shall rise, By whose light my soul shall gladly ‘Tread its pathway to the skies, Select Aiterature, THE NOBLE LIFE, BY T. ARTHUR, learn in the school of sd without its lesson ; y is the lesson taken to We go forth in the morning fresh employme nt—for its work or yleasur e—counting on a harvest of tion when w ther in our sheaves atevening, But, exeept in how few are the golden grains among th sheaves ! re toiled almost in vain. It had long been so with my friend Heart- ley. Ilow slowly w lite! No day and yet, heart! for the di its One of your earnest workers—a man of strong motive power, who must ever be up and “doing, *T shall leave my mark upon the worl 1,’ he was wont to say. © What kind of «mark 2” L once queried. Ile looked at me fora moment with a thoughtful air, dropped his ey mained silent. After a pause, he «A mark not soon to be obliter trust.’ *No man acts without a motive,’ I re- turned, ‘None but afool. Ile flung the sen- tence out with a tone of contempt, * And you are not a fool! “1 trow not, my friend,’ “Why do youwish to make a mark? But perhaps Tam intrusive.’ Heartley fixed his eye on m: ing my countenance, Oy uve hidden things,’ he answer- ed. ay not always sure of them. At least, hot.’ ‘And yet our motives. give quality to mal our actions, making them, as they wul- feet our internal lives, ‘good or evil,’ + Tin not so sure of that,’ he returned quickly. ‘And yet [hold that declaration to be a solemm truth, lying at the foundation of all happiness here and hereatter, T replied. in, read- He looked thoughtful, and a little dis- turbed, but said no more, and I did not press the subject, A truth, simply uttered, like a seed cast upon the ground, is often in a more favorable state for germination, tian if yourakedit by illustration too deep- ly below the surfice, Men like Heartley are always endanger- ing their peace of mind. When they put their hands to the plow, they r rely look back until they have cut their furrow. to the end. I met him, one day, in a very unhappy siate. [Le wis never wholly at ease—never quite satisfied with any thing as it came, ‘Pin sick of the world!) he said passion- ‘ Every thing gets to cross pur- pos Nothing comes out right.’ ‘What has gone wrong with your I asked, ‘Every thing goes wrong! “What speci: ally wrong? *T can count specials by the dozen. I just said, every thing goes wrong Whatever I touch is disturbed or b ig ed,? ‘1am sorry for your wife and children.’ Tintended the reiark as a spur or probe. Ile gave a slight start, and turned upon me quic reading my face to see if he understood all Thad meant. ‘Why do you say that?’ he asked, with less sharpness in his tone. ‘Because, if you disturb and blight every thing with your presence, your home must be anything but a happy dwelling place ; and therefore Lam sorry for your wile and children,’ ‘Pm afraid that it is anything but a happy dwelling place.’ There was a shade of sadness in his yoic » mingled with re- et and despondency. ‘If, he added, rallying himself, ‘I could only leave busi- hess cares and wordly ambition outside of my home, what again it would be! But they cling to me like destiny.’ “Worldly ambition?” I said the words slowly, ‘Is there anything wrong in that?’ he asked, ‘Its pursuit, so far, does not seom to have brought you much happiness, —Dis- satisfied di tye and gloomy evenings are judging from what you have said, its only fruits. Dead Sea apples | should call them.’ * Bitterness and ashes! It is even so. But why should this be? Is ambition wrong? There are high places in the world; and shall not the brave and bold climb upto them? Nay, is it not eve ry nt- man’s right to aseend, if he will? eae ere eerie einen ; All do sponds on ‘the prompting motive,’ I sy Vincente *Ah! yes; [ have heard that before, and it CR me to reflect, I tried not to be- lieve it; butthere may be something in it, alter all, You think there is,’ ‘Lam sur sof it, Ambition is not wrong, if the motiv ight. It is the wreng end that produces disappoiutment, and leaves the soul restless and unhappy.’ *What do you mean by a right motive ? Heartly ask * An unselfish one,’ was my answer, Ie shook his head. We ave all selfish, It is net to serve another that T work; but to serve myself. I toil early and late, eating the bread of ; not for you, or my neighbor Arnold, but for own flésh and blood, — It is thus with all men.’ ‘And sll men ave unhappy. ‘Not so,’ he answered quickly. I can point you' to aman whose serene face is but the reflection of his tranquil spirit.’ ‘Do I know him? ‘I speak of my neighbor Alcorn,’ ‘Is he ambitious? ‘Tle has risen to many places of trust and honor,’ ‘Is he very selfish?’ ‘The most unselfish person I ever knew.’ Ileartly answered with fervor. His tone expressed admiration for the man, ‘And this is why he is in tranquility of soul, There is no eager, restless self- secking thatis forever falling short of its ain ; but noble effort to serve others in his day and genervion, All men speak wellof My, Alcorn, Ife is honored and beloved, And why? Beeause his ends awe not narrow and selfish, bat broad and phitanthropic, Purpose, thought, and ef} fort are not all wasted on one Jittle human atom, but are expanded and ene a love of thecommon good, This is God- like, and brings its sure rew rd, God does not love hit but beings he has made, and whose happiness he is perpetu- ally seeking, And only in a degree that we walk by the samo rule and tind the same things are wein the true order of of our being, df not in the true order of our being, can we be happy? “All of which means,’ said I[eartley, ‘that a man can notebe happy unless he is religious,’ Ie spoke with a slight tone of contempt, asifhe had a low estimate of religious people, “You believed in God?’ I said, at) ‘And in the Bible as his inspired word? Gaga ‘And in a life according to the preeepts of his word as the only means of gaining heaven? * Yes. All this Twas taught in child- are instiineg ' 2 Frosun Oe and all this, asa man, [ truly be- lieve.” *In the 2_practice of this faith is the sum of allvelifion, Tsaid, ‘Justin the degree that youn ivy the © pre reo} aitanthiut t ig, actealcordin gs to them in wll your business and soci: ucont: tet with men, and in all your hom® relations, will you have peace of mind; gnd just in the degree that you act contrary to them, will you have distur- bance of mind.’ ‘Then, according to this theory, when- ever any one is miserable, it is because he it AS heonedging something wrong?’ he re- marked, ‘Or desiring something wrong—mustbe, in some way, out of the divine order, or no jav or smarting friction could occur,’ “We must all be very fir out of the di- vine order,’ he said, with a shade of bitter: ness in his voiee. Oh! this perpetual | —this smarting friction to which you refer; who is free from it ?? ‘Neither you nor T. And yet, in this very pain we suffer, is cause of gratitude to God. Like physical pain, itis the pain, it is the warning of disease, that, if unar- rested, will cause death—spiritual and eternal death.’ Alter parting with me on this occasion, Mr. Heartley as T learned from him atter- ward, began to look more closely into his mental processes, and to question himsell more rigidly in regard to the motives that riled him, — One thing was very plain to him. dle did not grow happier with the lupse of yer Ilis business prospered ; he gradually acquired the social st: anding for which he was ambitious; men deferred to him in publie places, and & gave him posi- tions of honor, Still he suffered from unrest, and a feeling of perpetual disap- pointnnent, Nothing came ont just as lie desired. The measure of his wishes was never full, Even his home rrowing less and less attractive, Ile was conscious that he brought into itsunshine no longer, asofold, ‘There was no hurrying of teet and no glad voices, when his steps sound- ed along the hall, such as used to. greet hiscoming. Antagonisms were beginning to creep in, His wile, onee so ge nile and yielding—so cheerful and ready. to serve im—had grown tious and fretfal— quick, electric smile, which in former years made his heart thrill when evening brought him home, was now a stranger to her face. Te vas beginning to bhime her forall this. It had not once occurred to him, that he might be responsible tor the sad change which had creptoverher But my rem that 1 was sorry for his wif aid children, had Curned his thoughts inte a new channel; gradually light broke in; and-he was able to see that in his too eager pursuit of riches and honors, he was hurt- ing almost every oue who cane into close contact witht hin—that if light had faded out‘ot his dwelling, it was because he had shut the doors and darkened the windows. One evening Leartley came home tn that fretted state of mind which is apt to be an- noyed by the most trifling occurrences. Ie had been disappointed ins many ways ‘To use his favorite expression, * Eye thing had gone wrong.’ ‘The ground of all this disappointment lay in the fret that he had expected too mu a very com- mon error with men who are over eagel to compiss their desires. Such men are rarely satislied with what the day brings torth, Heartley never wis, Always some failure in anticipated results marred the satisfaction which should haye been his guest when the hours of business closed. ‘All the way home he had been brooding over a prominent’ source of annoyanee, and fretting himself thereat, His counten- anee was actually repulsive—closely knit, trowning brows; hard, tightly shut mouth ; cold, almost cruel eyes. And this was the aspeet he brought into his home—the aspect of Mt. Heartley, whom all men regarded as one among the most favored Ay initia eae aud successful; as one whom, to use a Pd common n phrs Ase, the ‘world was using re- markubly well! No wonder that his little three years old Ada, who was playing in the hall when he entered, gl: Aneel at him in a hall-scared we und then went hur- ryiny off up sta No wonder that his oldest daughter, Helen, « maiden in her seventee nth year, shrunk back into the room as he passed her door, instead of springing out to meet him. She had caught a glimpse of that countenance. And no wonder that his wife dropped her eye quickly on lookipg up as he entered the apartment where she t—sighed heavily, but offered no word of we Icome home, A g@rowl was in the throat of Mr, Heartley, but he stifled it with an effort. Ife felt like an animal smarting under the lash. Fretful, angry words key t forming on his tongue, and ‘it required 2 strong will to suppress them. Without speaking to his wife, he left the room and went into his library. He saw that in his present disturbed mood, it was better for him to be alone. The growl that was in his throat came forth ina groan, as he seated himself at the libyary- table and let his head sink down upon his arms. In a moment there came a picture before his mental vision ; a picture of three human faces, all looking at him with sad and frightened eyes ; they were the faces as he saw them alittle while before, of his wife and children, — Ile could not endure the sight, it so pained aud re- buked him; and so lifted his head and un- closed his eyes, Ashe did so, his gaze rested upon a womun’s portrait looking down tenderly upon him from the wall it was the picture of a young and lovely face ; full of hope and happiness. ‘Dear heart!) he murmured audibly, with a quiver in his voice. And then he shut his eyes and bent his head again, re- maining: ‘quite still, for many Iiuntes. When he raised himself at Te ngth, his countenance was yery sober and thought- ful, and its expression wholly ch: mged, He opened a dryer in the Hasle, and took out to or three miniatures ; unloosed the clasps, and contemplated long the picured faces of his children. ILow lovingly did their eyes look into his! Ie heard ‘the old sweet music of their voices; arms clinging about his neck. that had jlmost been a in his heart, quickened into life, Great throds of teel- ing agitated him, ‘Then the real faces he had seen alittle while before, obliterated these beautiful representations, and he al- most groaned aloud at the contrast. ‘And is this all my work ? he mused with himself. ‘Had my triend really looked into my home, when ho said, *1 pity your poor wife and children’? My work! Can it be possible! Tseem to be ina nightmare, or justavoused from one. Why did I come home in such a wretched mooi to-ni And then he searched back through day for a revolution of the cxuse. “Not adequate,’ Was the elear decision to whieh he come, * ‘How weak ind tinmanin- ly Ihave grown! A seed, cust into his mind long before, now showed signs of vitality, Ihe ponder- ed the truth thi , according to 2 man’s end and purposes in his life, will be the quiuity of all his actions and the resultant state of mind. § A good purpose,’ he s to himself, ‘if this law of se and ele be true, never could hy o blighted my home, We are all positively wretched, But what is a good piirpose 2? Ile thought intently. ‘Phe this question involved ev eume; but as if spoken in his ears by another—* An unsellish purpose.’ At first, he did not see anything of its length and breadth, its height and depth of meaning, Ife almost rejected it as an ethical some- thing, v od to adormm a sermon, but impractical. The conve of this proposi- tion, ‘A sellish purpose is evil,’ he could mor dily accept, ‘What have been my chief ends in lif Ife put to himself, at length this di question, feeling, as he did’so, that on its true imswer hung the most vital considera- lions, The good of my wife and children?) A il shiver crept into his heart, for he ud not respond affirmatively, They were very near and dear to him—oh ! yes; but, in the plans and purposes that filled his thoughts and spurred him to action, how small a space dil they fill! It was honor tor himselt; position for himself; wealth, and its commanding influence for himself, ‘They were not ignored, of course; but their pleasure and “their good were subordinated to his own, A hurting sense of humiliation passed down upon his soul under this accusing conyiction, Sell! self—only self? he murmured, «The good of my neighbor? Any public good?’ He went on questioning. * What great or noble end have [set before m 1 grow richer every day; [gain in steadily in social influence, ) opinions have weight, Iam, soto speak, a power in the community. And yet, now that [look closely into myself, T can tind no desire to be of use to my neighbor in any thing; but, instead, the pose to make every one the minister of my will, Tam the centre about whieh everything else re- volves. I gather from all sides, but with no thought of distributing them: gin. Is thatlike God, in whom we live suid move and have our being? No wouder Lam un- happy. As he sat thus in painful self-examina- tion, the shades of evening fell gloomily around him, making his heart sadder and heavier. Neither wile nor children had come near him; for no sweet influences drow them as in past times; no- sunshine wooed them to his presence, Now aud then, muflled and sounding through closed doors, as if frem afar, broke out a child's voice, Except for this, a melancholy still- ness reigned through the house. *Am | under the influence of a spell— am I the slave of some malignant power?” ITeartley exclaimed in the bitter agony of these new convictions. A revelation of himself had been made, and he was shock- ed at his own image, * A séllish monster; not a true, generous, God-like mau!’ he said gyith a shudder, ‘Me tea-bell rang. Ile started to his fect. ‘Mow can Iineet them ? Ile sighed, A wave of tender feeling, long held ‘back, swept over his heart, nd Ww ith it came the answer, ‘As you have not met them tor along time, with loving interest,’ A few moments passed. He stood the gloom of his library. He heard his children go by the door; none of them ventured to open it, or to eall for him. Affection, answer to thing, It Theo he heard another step. How well he felt their), lhe knew its sound: —ind he kiew that it, likewise, would go by without a pause, All the family were now at the tea-table, waiting for him; but stiil he lingered. ‘How can I meet then? I am in too great pain tosmie, and I have long enough cast my shadow upon their hearts.’ Mr. Heartley was still undecided, when the door opened just a little, and a stream of light lowed in; with it came a low, timid voice, uttering the single word, ‘Papa! *O Ada! fell from Mr Heartley’s lips as he drew the door wide open and lifted the child to his arms, Ie had to repress the strong emotions that seemed as if they would overpower him. ‘Tea is ready,’ said the wondering but instantly happy child, as she laid her head down upon his shoulder, And so the father and child entered the tea-room together. ‘I am in too great pain to smile,’ Mr. Heartley had said, And so he wis a little while before; but now something so like a smile lit up his face, that it created sunbeams in the hearts of his wife and childven, He placed Ada in pa ol ir, and then took his seat at the table. ‘Iluve I kept you waiting?’ he asked kindly, and in a slight tone of apology. ‘Oh! no,’ answered Mrs, Ieartley, the old gentle smile coming to her mouth, Ada leaned ber arms on the table, and fix- ed her eyes in curious, half} “doubting won- der on her father’s countenance, He look- ed at her and smiled, ‘Then her little face beamed all over with new-born delight, and she leaned toward him, and put up her rosy mouth for a kiss, which was given right Warmly. It would be hard to say which enjoyed it most—father or child. It was like magic, the change that came over vl their feclings, A sudden rift in the cloud whieh had so long hung over them let in the sunshine; and drooping flowers lilted their faces to the light, and breathed forth pleasant odors, Not much conversation passed at the table, but that little was spoken in cheers ral tones, and in utterance of kind feelings. Ag the, sy lett the tea-room, Helen, Mr. s oldest daughter, found herself father’s side. ‘The old loving im- pulses were so strong, that she drew her arm around him. Tiny 5} », she receiy- ed the kiss her hungry heart desired. At the lihrary-door Ma. Ileartly stopped and said; ‘TL be with you alter a while.’ It was nothing unusu: ul for him to be alone in his library , ‘but it was something unusual for him to join the evening family cirele, unless it were to sit there in moody silence. Ile did not retire now in a spirit of selt-in- verted, moody isolation; but in order to get a truer adjustment of himself, He wanted opportunity for reflection, ‘There had come upon hin wv new but half com- pe Teva seereesel Tn sisnke os it ¢ —he must discover, if pos: all it meant and all it involy: ed, Ilis first query when alone, was: * What was my desive, when I made that little eflort to putiuvay somber states ? To getsome good tor myself, or for those I have rendered, I fear, too long unh: uppy ? 0, if Was not for my * he answer- edvuter reflection, “Igy as for their good, Aud so smalla thing! he went on, ‘to produce so powe riul an effect. Yes, won- derful! There is power in the heart's sun- shine well as in the sunshine of nature, ay the clouds. Oh! I would not have them spread over us again! ‘They must notshivlow us again! A few moments of true regiurd for my wife and children have brought me more real pleasure than months and years in the eager pursuits of ends centering allin myself. Ihave gain- ed abund: uitly of this world’s goods, and I have wor honors from me ne “but neither riches nor honors have given a tithe of the pure delights 1 have ‘felt this evening. Shall 1 go inthe old way, or taken diverg- ing pi uth now? Shall Mei ofthis world and the deceitfulness of riches cloke the word which has been so EASE, spoken in my ears, that it become unfruittul; or shall it fall into the good ground?’ Suddenly, aun oppressive sense of weakness fell upon Mr. Heartley’s soul, and darkness gather- ed yound him. The evil and selfish spirits which had so long ruled him saw that he was turning away from their miserable counsels, and they strove hard to reassert their power over him. But, in. the very darkness » of weakness they pro- dueed w . He felt powe as to himself, and so, in monetary despair, he lilted his heart and prayed, * Lord, help me to walk in anew way! Ile was deeply in earnest. The ery ene from the very depths of his soul; and the ever-present, ever-loving One heard and answered, as he hears “and answers the cry of every soul struggling with evil and praying to bedelivered, A light camo into his spirit; he telt strength of purpose ; ae e fell upon him like dew upon flowers, Ile had taken the first step in the right way, and now, all heaven was on his side. n of spiritual lite, in that moment of earnest effort through divine aid to put avay the natural, se Glfish lite by which he was governed, had been born. It was vory feeble, but its birth was witnessed by angels, who were commissioned to feed and guard it with loving care, ‘The old, vigorous, selfish life was not dead, Alas no! [t would reassert its power, and, aid- ed by all malignant influences, seek to destroy this tender principle of eaten lite. But, heaven is stronger than he: and all-potent to guard its own, Myr, Ileartley was really in earnest. In con- scious, desp human weakness, he had prayed for divine strength— rayedl with intense desire—prayed re for it was for power to love truly his wite and children, and to work for their good, that he prs ayed, And so, he had actually put himself so under heavenly inflaences, that they could become potential throngh anewly-forming will, When Mr, Hieartley joined his family after halt an hour's sell-communion, it was with a quiet but cheerful manner. His wile regarded him with such 2 questioning, yearning expre ssion, that he turned its eyes away; butin doing so, he made a kind remark, When he looked at her face again, he saw in it an expression, that sent an almost tearful emotion to his heart, I was not a feeling of . No! far from it, Ie opened a book that lay upon the center-table, and read aloud 10r half an hour, Mr, Ileartley Was a sow and onee enjoyed books; but things had for a long time eve much of his thoughts that he