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THE E

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VOL. XXVIL Che Examiner

is Printed and Peblished every Monday Porenooa, BY

William i, (cotton,

OFFICE: Cerner Queen and King Streets.

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| |

‘ALMANAC FOR MARCH, 1876.

MOON'S CHANGES. First Quarter, 2d day, 5h. 35m. a. m., N. below horizon. Full Moon, 10th day, 2h. Om., a. m., N., | below horizon. Last Quarter, 17thday, 9h. 12m. p. m., W., below horizon. New Moon, 25th day, 3h. 59m., p. m..

=

a. We

MOON! HIGH DAY’s

- | rises |water jlen’ rise | sets} r i er jlen’th

DAY ‘ - WEEK

aun uM M - =

1 Wean'sd’y 6 445 42; 8 33) 12310 58

2 Thursday 42; 43 9 7} 2 811 1

3 Friday 40, 444 953 3 OF} 4

4 Saturday 38 46) 1056 4 21) 8

5'Sunday 36, @7;A It 6° SI) 11

§ Monday 34; 48 133) 7 42 M4

7 Tuesday 32! 50; 2 57, 8 57 18

8 Wedn'sd’y, 30, 51; 417; 939) 21

9 Thursday 29; 58; 5 65; 10 19 24

19 F riday 27; 54 6 49 10 535 27 1] Saturday 25; 66 8 2: 11 3 31 12, Sunday 22| 57; DIZA 1 35 13|Monday 21; 59: 10238 0 29 38 l4iTuesday | 206 0} 11 38| 1 5& 40 1g} Weda'sd’y} 17) 1M 142) 44 is, Thursday |, 155 2 035, 2 28 47 17 Friday yy 064] 148 3 18) 50 18 Saturday | 11 5 2387) 4 20) 54 i9Sunday {| 9 6 3 23) 530; 57 20:\Monday {| 8 98] 3 58 6 55/12 Oo 21/Tuesday q 9 4%)-8-i 3 22! Wedn'sd’y 4 11; 448) 831 7 23;Thursday; 2) 12; 5 8 9 37 10 24 Friday jd 59} 13) 5 24) 10 10) 14 25'Saturday | 58) 15) 5 40 10 46 17 26 Sunday 56; 16) 5& 56) 11 20 20 27 Monday 54, 17) 615 11 54 23 2&8 Tuesday 52| 18} 6 38M 26 2;/Wedn's’dy| 50) 19| 7 8 0380 29 Thursday | 48} 21) 749) 111! 33 31, Friday i5 46/6 22} $46 1 59/12 36

PRICES CURRENT.

Cl’town, March 14, 1876. BRFADSTUFFS. Buckwheat Flour, per Ib Flour, per bbl Flour, per 100 Ibs Ostmer ., per 100 lbs

FISH.

0.03 to 0.34 5.50 to 7.00 2.00 to 3.25 | 2.70 to 3.00

Codtish per qtl Herring per bbl Mackerel per doz.

50 to 5.00 7 to 6.49

1.8 48 to 0.72

| her absent husband.

BOARDS. Hemlock, 100 feet.

}

0.81 to 0.94

Pine do 1.62 to 2.40 Spruce do 0.97 to 1.30 Shingles, per M. 2.11 to 2.48

POULTRY. Chickens, per pair Ducks, (each) Fowls, (each) Partridges, (each) Turkeys, (each) Geese (zach)

$0.50 to 0.70 0.24 to 0.35 0.25 to 0.40 0.00 to 0.30 0 80 to 1.75 0.50 to 0.75

MEAT.

Beef, (small pieces) per Ib $0.08 to 0.14 Beef, per Ib (by the quarter) 0.06 to 0.10 Ham, per Ib 0.10 to 0.12

b, per quarter 0.00 to 0.00 Lamb, per |b 0.06 to 0.09 Mutton, per Ib 0.07 to 0.12 Fork,(small pieces) per i 0.08 to 6.12

Pork, per Ib (by the carcass) 0.06 to 0.074 Veal, per Ib 0.04 to 0.08

MISCELLANEOUS.

Apples per bushel 0.00 to 0.00

ley per bushel 0.00 to 0.75 Butter (fresh) per lb 0.20 to 0.25 Butter per Ib by the tub 0.16 to 0.20 Calfskins, per ib 0.06 to 0.12 Cheese (new milk) per Ib 0.14 to 0.16 Cheese, per Ib 0.05 to 0.08 Clover seed, per lb 0.00 to 0.00

C.18 to 0.25 0.00 to 0.00 7.00 to 10 00 6.04 to 0.44 0,25 to 0.32 0.65 to 1.00 0.35 to 0°48 0.31 to 0.46 0.12 to 0.16 0.36 to 0.38 0.25 to 0.32 0.63 to 0.04 0.50 to 1.00 4.50 to 2.50 9.07 to 0.10 0.16 to 0.20 0.17 to 0.25

Eggs. per doz. Green Peas, Hay, per ton Hides, per ib. Honey, per Ib. omespun, (men’s wear)per yd. liomespun, (women’s do)per yd Hemespun Flannel, per yard rd, per lb Cats, per bushe. Potatoes, per bushel Pearl Barley, per Ib Sheepskins Straw, per ton Tallow per Ib “rnips, per bush. Wool, per lb

The Greatest Medical Discovery

OF THE AGE!

After lengthened experiments,

Dr. Samuel La’Mert,

of 15 Gower Street, Bedford Square, Lon- don, has discovered au infallible remedy in aileases of Nervous and Physical De- bility, Spermatorrhca, and Impotence, the Fesalts of Solitary Habits, excess or infec- tion. ‘The treatment is based on experience Sequired during more than twenty-five years successful practice, and has rarely

n found to fail. Patients residing in the Colonies, can be treated by coi respondence, and the appropriate remedies can be for- Warded, with safety and secreay, by post. Dr. La’ Mert’s work on

The Phisiclogy of Marriage, With a review of the causes that lead to Uc infelicity, and prevent the attam- Mentof the legitimate objects of the e state may be had, price 25 cents, 5 J. H. Woolrich, Druggist, Halifax, tenn’ of H. A. Parr, Druggist, Yar- ‘h, N. 8., of Henry Elliott, Pictou,N. S.,

Sod of Bremner Brothers, Charlottetown, PE. I. -

CHARLOTTETOWN, PRI

TSS A TS LS LL

| POETRY,

WR AA® 20,0 0/07ee ee eens

HOPE'S LIGHT IS SHINING

| ‘Tis true that time may swiftly pass, And years as quickly fly; ©

And every hope that springs to birth May wither, fade and die.

| And oh, ‘tis true that all our dreams

May in life’s darkness set—

it in the chambers of my soul

Life's hope is shining yet.

Br |

Thine was not love that could be cooled By words or looks of scorn; | Ob no, it was as pure and deep | Asif of angels born! Thine was that love which sorrow’s storms | Norcruel fate could sever | It burns on brightly—and it will | Keep burning on forever.

|

| To think the faithless would indeed | Be casting doubts on high ; Would throw a dark, suspicious shade O’er angels in the sky. But oh, within my trusting heart No doubts there are as yet;

; The lights of faith and hope are still

Within its portals set.

LITERATURE.

THE IRON WILL. Con di sion,

Logan sat thoughtful a moment, aad |

then said, as he rose to his feet.

‘Agreed. It'll be the best thing for us

! | as well as for our families.’

When the Pimily sailed, at twelve o’clock |

| the two men were on board.

Days came and passed, until the heart of Mrs. Logan grew sick with anxiety, fear, and suspense. No word was received form She went to his old employer, and learned that he had been discharged ; but she could find no one who had heard of him since that time. Left thus alone, with two children, and no ap< parent means of support, Mrs. Logan, when she became at length clearly satisfied that he for whom she had given up everything had heartlessly abandoned her, felt as if there was no hope for her in the world.

* Go to your father, by all means,’ urged the woman with whom she was still board. ing. ‘ Now that your husband has gone,he will receive you.’

‘I cannot,’ was Fanny's reply.

‘ But what will you do?’ asked the wo- man.

‘ Work for my children,’ she replied, ars rousing herself, and speaking with some resolution. ‘I have hands to work, and I

ther.

|

NOE EDV

Mr. Crawford glanced down at the child |

the Quaker he'd by the hand. As he did | 80, the child lifted to him a gentle face, with mild, gentle, leving eyes.

‘He is a sweet little fellow,’ said Mr.

Crawford, reaching his hand to the child. |

He apoke with some feeling, a look about the boy that went to his heart, | ‘He is, indeed, a sweet child—and the image of his poor, sick, almost heartbroken mother, for whom lam trying to awaken an interest. She has two children, and this one is the eldest. Her husband is dead, or what may be as bad, perhaps worse as far as she is concerned, dead to her, and she does not seem to have a relative in the world; at least, none who thinks about or cares forher. In trying to provide for her children, she has overtasked her deli- cate frame, and made herself sick, Uns less something is done for her, a worse thing must follow. She must go to the almshouse, and be separated from her chil- dren. Look into the sweet innocent face

| of this dear child, and let your heart say

whether he ought to be taken from his mo- If she have a woman’s feelings,must

for there was |

; she not love this child tenderly; and can | any one supply to him his mother’s place?’ | denly opened, and Mr. Crawford stood bee

‘1 willdo something fer her, certainly,’ |

sail Mr. Crawford.

‘Il wish thee would go with me to see her.’ .

‘ There is no use in that. My seeing her can do no good. Get all you can for her and then come tome. I will help in the good work cheerfully,’ replied Mr. Craw- ford.

‘That is thy dwelling, I believe ?’ said the ()uaker,—looking round at a house ad- joining the one before which they stood.

‘Yes, that is my house,’ returned Mr. Crawford.

‘Will thee take this little boy in with thee and keep him for a few minutes, while I go to see a friend some squares off ?’

‘Oh, certainly; Come with me, dear ?: And Mr. Crawford held cut his hand to the child, who took it without hesitation.

‘1 will see the ina little while,’ said the Quaker as he turned away.

The boy, who was plainly, but very neat. ly dressed, was about four years old. He had a more than usually attractive face ; and an earnest look cut of his mild eyes, that made everyone who saw him his friend.

‘What is your name, my dear?’ asked Mr, Crawford, as he sat down in his parlour and took the little fellow upon his knee.

am willing to work.’ ‘ Much better go home to your father,’ | said the woman. ‘That is impossible. He has disowned me—has ceased to love me or care for me. | I cannot go to him again; for I could not |

bear, as Iam now, another harsh repulse. |

No—no—I will work with my own hands. God will help me to provide for my chil-

young woman, for whom the boarding~- house keeper felt more than a common interest—an interest that would not let her trust her out from the only place she could call her home—sought,for work, and was fortunate enough to obtain sewing from two or three families, and was thus enabled to pay a light board for herself and chil~ dren. But incessant toil with her needle, continued late at night and early in the morning, gradually undermined her health, which had become delicate, and weariness and pain were the constant com- panions of her labour.

Sometimes, in carrying her work home, the forsaken wife would have to pass the old home of her girlhood, and twice she saw her father in the window. But either she was so changed that he did not know his child, or he would not bend from his stern resolution to disown her. On these two occasions she was unable, on her re- turning, to resume her work. Her fingers could not hold or guide the needle; nor could she, from the blinding tears that fill- ed her eyes, have seen to sew, evenif her hands had lost every tremour that ran through every nerve of ber body.

A year had rolled wearily by since Logan went off, and still no word had come from | the absent husband; Labour beyond her bodily strength, and trouble and grief that was too severe for her spirit to bear, had done sad work upon the forsaken wife and disowned child. She was but a shadow of her former self.

Mr. Crawford had been very shy of the old Quaker who had spoken so plainly to him; but his words made some impression, though no one would have supposed s0, as there was no change in his conduct towards his daughter. He had forewarned he of the consequences if she acted in opposition to his wishes. He had told her that he would disown her for ever. She had taken her own way, and painful as it was to him he had to keep his word—his word that had ever been inviolate. He might forgive her; he might pity her; but she must re- main a stranger. Such a direct and flag- rant act of disobedience to his wishes was not to be forgotten nor forgiven. Thus, in stubborn pride, did his hard heart confirm itself in its cold and cruel estrangement. Was he happy? No! Did he forget his child? No. He thought of her and dreamed of her, day after day, and night after night. But—he had said it, and he would stick to it! His pride was unbend~ ing as iron.

Of the fact that the husband of Fanny had gone off and left her with two children to provide for with the labour of her hands, he had been made fully aware, but it did not bend him from his stern purpose.

‘ She is nothing to me,’ was his impatient reply to the one who informed him of the fact. This was all that could be seen. But his heart trembled at the intelligence. Nev- ertheless, he stood coldly aloft, month af. | ter month, and even repulsed, angrily the hind landlady with whom Fanny boarded, who had attempted, all unknown to the daughter, to awaken sympathy for her in her father’s heart.

One day, the old friend, whose plain words had not pleased Mr. Crawford, met that gentleman near his own door, The Quaker was leading a little boy by the hand. Mr. Crawford bowed, and evidently wished to pass on; but the Quaker paused and

ieee like to have a few words with thee, friend Crawford.’ '

* Well, say on.’

‘Thee is known as a benevolent man, friend Crawford, The never refuses, it is said, to do a deed of charity.’

‘{ always give something when I am sure the object is deserving.’

‘Sc [am aware, Do you see this litle

‘Henry,’ replied the child. He spoke with distinctness; and, as he spoke, there

| was a sweet expression of the lips and eyes,

that was particulary winning. ‘It is Henry, is 1t?’ ‘ Yes, sir.’ ‘What else besides Henry ?’

| The boy did not reply, for he had tixed } :

| his eyes upon a picture that hung over the | | dren.’ In this spirit, the almost heart-broken |

mantlespiece, and was looking at it intently. The eyes of Mr. Crawford followed these of the child, that rested, he found, on the portrait of his daughter.

‘ What else besides Henry ?’ he repeated.

‘ Henry Logan,’ replied the child, looking fora moment into the face of Mr. Craws ford, and then turning to gaze at the pic- ture on the wall. Every nerve quivered in the frame of that: man of iron will. The falling of a bolt from a sunny sky could not have startled and surprised him more. He saw in the face of the child, the moment he looked at him, something strangely fami, liar and attractive. What it was, he did not, until this instant comprehend. Put it was no longer a mystery.

‘ Do you know who | am?’ he asked, in a subdued voice, after he had recovered, to some extent, his feelings.

The child looked again into his face, but longer and more earnestly. Then, without answering, he turned and looked At the portrait on the wall,

‘ Do you know who I am, dear ?’ repeat- ed Mr. Crawford.

‘No sir,’ replied the child; and then again turned to gaze upon the picture.

‘ Who is that?’ and Mr. Crawford point. ed to the object that so fixed the little boy’s attention.

‘My mother!’ And words, he laid his head down on the bosom of his unknown relative, and shrank close to him, es if half afraid because of the myss tery that in his infinite mind, hung around the picture on the wall.

Moved by an impulse that he could not restrain, Mr. Crawford drew his arms around the child and hugged him to his bosom. Pride gave away; the iron will was bent; the sternly-uttered vow was fors gotten. There is power for good in the presence of a little child. Its sphere of in~ nocence subdues and renders impotent the evil spirits that rule in the hearts of selfish men. It was soin this case. Mr. Crawford might have withstood the moving appeal of even his daughter’s presence, changed by grief, labour, and suffering as she was. But his anger, upon which he had suffered the sun to gu down, fled before her artless, con- fiding, innocent child. He thought not of Fanny as the wilful woman, acting from the dictate of her own passions or feelings; but as a little child, lying upon his bosom —as a little child, singing and dancing around him—as a little child, with, to him, the face of a cherub, and the sainted mother of that innocent one by her side.

When the friend came for the little boy, Mr. Crawford said to him in a low voice— made low to hide his emotion -

‘I will keep the child,’

‘From its mother?’

‘No. Bring the mother and the other child. I have room for them all.’

A sunny smile passed over the benevol- ent countenance of the friend, as he hastily left the room.

Mrs. Logan, worn down by exhausting labor, had at last been forced to give up. When she did give up, every long strained nerve of mind and body instantly relaxed. and she became almost us weak and help- less as an infant. While in this state, she was accidently discovered by the kind hearted old Friend, who, without her being aware of what he was going to do, made his successful attack upon her father’s feelings. He trusted to nature and a good cause, and did not trust in vain. :

‘Come, Mr. Logan,’ said the hind woman with whom Fanny was still boarding, an hour or so after Little Harry had been dres, sed up to take a walk—where the mother did not know or think—‘ the good friend who was here this morning, says you must

as

‘ride out. He has brought a carriage for you. It will do you good, I know. He is

very kind, Come, get yourself ready.’ Mrs. Logan was lying upon her bed. ‘Ido not feel able to get up,’ she re

. Ang. 3, 1875

c%, Pree

boy

plied. ‘I do not wish to ride out.,

j |

he said these |

VUNT

\RD

~

rc Is Ld

Se

(ND, MONDAY, MARCH 27, 1876.

POSTAGE PREPAID,

DMD AR TE ‘Oh, yes, you must gy “The pure fresh rand the change will do you more good Come, Mrs. Logan. I will She needs the

than medicine. dress little Julia for you. change as much as you do.’

Where is Harry ? asked the mother.

‘He has not returned yet. But, come! The carriage is waiting at the door.’

‘Won't you go with me ?’

‘] would with pleasure— but I cannot leave home. 1 have so much to do.’

After a good deal of persuasion, Fanny at length made the effort to get herself ready to go out. She was so weak, that she tottered about the floor like one intoxi- cated. But the woman with whom she lived, assisted and encouraged her, until she was at length ready to go. Then the Quaker came up to the room, and with the tenderness and care of a father, supported her down stairs, and when she had taken her place in the vehicle, entered with her youngest child in his arms, and sat by her side, speaking to her, as he did so, kind and encouraging words.

The carriage was driven slowly for a few squares, and then stopped. Scarcely had the emotion ceased, when the door was sud-

fore his daughter. ‘My poor child !’ he said, in a tender broken voice, as Fanny, overcome by his

| unexpected appearance, sank forward into

his arms,

When the suffering young creature opens ed her e)es again, she was upon her own bed, in her own room, in her old home. Her father sat by her side, and held one of her hands tightly. There were tears in his eyes, and he tried to speak; but, though his lips moved, there came from them no articulate sound.

‘Do you forgive me, father? Do you love me, father?’ said Fanny in a tremulous whisper, half rising from her pillow, and

looking eager'y, almost agonizingly, into |

her father’s face.

‘I have nothing to forgive,’ murmured the father, as he drew his daughter towards him, so that her head could lie against his bosom,

‘But do you love me, father? Do you love me as of old ?’ said the daughter.

He bent down and kissed her; and now the tears fell from his eyes and lay warm and glistening upon her face,

‘As of old,’ he murmured, laying his cheek down upon that of his child, and clasping her more tightly in his arms. The long pent-up waters of affection were rush- ing over his soil and obliterating the marks of pride, anger, and the iron will that sus- tained them in their cruel dominion. He was no longer a strong man, stern and rigid in his purpose; but a child, with a loving and tender heart,

There was light again in his dwelling; not the bright light of other times; for now the rays were meliowed. But it was light. And there was music again; but not joy. ful; but it was music, and its spell over his heart was deeper, and its influence more elevating.

The man with the iron will and stern pur- |

poses was subdued, and the power that sub - dued him wes the presence of a little child.

A STATESMAN SPEAKS,

Sir Joun A, Macponatp’s speech on Mr. Workman's resolution on Protection show- ed the difference between the statesman and the mere politician. Sir John did not agree altogether with Mr. Workman’s re- solution, and later on, in the debate moved the resolution which has been debated in the House for two evenings, and probably was concluded last night. Sir John’s resolus tion read :-—

“That it be resolved, that the House res grets that His Excellency the Governor Gen eral has not been advised to recommend to Parliament a measure for the readjustment of the Tariff, which will not only alleviate the stagnation of business deplored in the Speech from the Throne, but also afford protection to the struggling manufactures and industries as well as the agricultural productions of the country.’

In referring to the subject, Sir John said he did not intend to go into any long series of remarks on the great theories of free trade and protection, but he remarked as a very singular fact that in all the discus. sions which had taken place during the session on the subject,the speakers appear- ed to think that Free Trade is political economy.

“ Political economy,’’ remarked Sir John “is a great science, anda tentative sceince and yet experimental; a science which embraces, in connection with political sys- tems, in the widest terms all that concerns the prosperity of a nation and of nations. Freo Trade is a very subordinate branch of it; butit is a branch that has been elevats ed, and it was raised in Cobden’s time, ow- ing to the great success of Free Trade in bread, almost to areligion, and since his death it seems almost to be degraded into a superstition. But Sir, Free Trade, as has been said again, ad nauseum, must be recix procal, Free Trade, free intercourse be- tween nations, means what the word ex~ presees ; it does not signify that one nation must blindly adhere to the mere phrase without regard to disturbing causes or the stuation of the nation itself, or of foreign nations. The collective interests of a nation must be considered, and they are virious. A nation must stand on its own ground, Theorists with regard to free trade have labored under a misapprehension, and have advocated a false science, Opposs ed to the protection of the industries of a country under any circumstances. Now, that is not the opinion, as we all know, of Jobn Stuart Mill. His celebrated passage in his book, which has been so often quots ed, | will quote again. It has been repeats ed by him in the same words in the last edition of this book that it was in the first. His position has been attacked—I myself have heard it assailed by political econom~ ists in the Political Economy Club in Engs land, but this man, superior, as we have been informed by the hon. member for Welland, to Adam Smith, lays down in this work, which he leaves as his legacy, the principle that there are circumstances cons nected with the menufactures of a nation which not only excuse but justify protec» tion.

Mr. Young—Two years ago, when the question was up with regard to beet root sugar, I quoted that very statement of Mr. Mill’s. My Right Hon. friend declared that cn second thoughts, and on the advice of his friend, Mr. Mill had withdrawn that passage frem his book.

Sir John A. Macdonald—The hon, gen- tleman must be mistaken, If he turns the last edition of this book, he will findit

oh 2 ck aa

| phere. The hon. gentleman is altogether | wrong. This is the passage :—

‘Tho only case in which, on mere prins ciples of political economy, protecting | duties can be defensible, is when they are | imposed temporerily, especially in a young | and rising nation, in hope naturalizing 4 | foreign industry in itself perfectly suitable to the circumstances of the country. The superiority of one country over another in a branch of production arises from having begun it sooner. There may be no inherent advantage on one part, or disadvantage on the other, but only a present superiority of acquired skill and exerience. A country, which has the skilland experience yet to acquire, may in other respects be better adapted to the production than those which were earlier in the field, and besides, it is a just remark of Mr. Rae that nothing has a greater tendency to promote in any branch of production than its trial under a new set of conditions.

But it cannot be expected that the indi- viduals should at their own risk, or rather to their certain loss,introduce a new manu- facture and bear the burthen of carrying it on until the producers have been educated up to the level of those with whom the producers are traditional, A protecting duty continuing for a reasonable time will sometimes be the least inconvenient mode in which the nation can tax itself for the support of such an experiment. But the protection should be confined to cases in which there is a good ground of assurance that the industry which it fosters will, after atime, be able to dispense with it. Nor should the domestic producer ever be allowed to expect that it will be continued to them beyond the time necessary for a fair trial of what they are capable to ac- complishing.”’

This is the principle laid down by Mill, the leader of the modern school of polis | cal economy in England, a free trader in | the best sense of the word. I say this ex~ ‘tract Lhave now read applies to the cirs cumstances of Canada. Wearea young country, just emerging from the first strugs gles with the forest. We have but little realized capital as yet. The manufactures of the country,with a few small exceptions, have scarce.y taken root; they are lying alongside a country which has had the ad- vantage— pointed out by Mr. Hill—of hav- ing commenced first. The manufactures of the United States have been going on for a long period of time, and large amounts of capital have been realized. All these things we have to fight, in addition to the fact of cur industries being in their infancy, and other disturbing influences not alluded to by Mr. Mills which add to reasons why our manufactures have the same right to be encouraged that the child has to look to the parent for guidance until able to walk alone. Mr. Mill, the free trader, goes much further than many gens tleman in this house, who will vote | against the resolution. He does not speak of a revenue tarifi—which would afford in- | cidental protection to our manufactures—

as being justifiable, but he lays down the

broad principle—to encourage native in- dustries ; if they are fitted for the circum- rtances of the climate, soil and people of a country, protection ought to be given and is justified in the true principle of political economy. But we hear hon. gentlemen say that it is not for the interest of the manufacturers themselves to have protees tion; it would create monopolies, and monopolies bring on apathy and lethargy.

RANDOW READINGS.

A waste of * t’—putting it in depot.

Leap year beverage for young ladies— Pop!

Man alone is born crying, lives complain- ing, and dies disappointed.

‘Don’t let’s have ary words about it,’ as the man said when he dodged the dictionary hisjwife threw at him.

The following dialogue was overheard the other day :—He—Araminta, je (‘adore.—She —Shut it your yourself,

Borrowers have often deprived a man of everything he has laid up fora rainy day, whether money or umbrella.

There are a good many people who are beginning to believe that the man who said, ‘ There is no such a word as fail,’ lied.

She asked him if her new dress wasn't as sWeel as a spring rose, and the brute said it was, even to the minor attracticn of still having a little due on it.

Generosity during life is very diffe: ent from generosity at the hour cf death, the one proceeds from liberality and benevolence, and the other from pride.or fear.

Why should the beehive be taken as a symbol of industry? Nota beeis to be seen all winter long, while the cockroach is up at tive o’clock in the morntng, and never goes to bed till midnight, Let’s change this thing.

Miss Anthony was rudely treated lately by the Jowa Legislature. She had an appoint- ment to address the two houses in favor of woman suffarage, but at the hour fixed she found so few members present that she in- dignantly left the Legislative Chamber

The time for a man to stand firmly by Job's example is when he washes his face with home made soap, and begins to paw around over the chairs with his eyes shut, enquiring for a towel, quiek, and is told that the towel is in the drawer, but the keys are lost

A Syrian convert to Christianity was urged by his employer to work on Sunday, but he declined. ‘But,’ said the master, « does not your Bible say that if a man has an ox or an ass that falls into a pit on the Sabbath day he may pull him out?’ « Yes,’ answered Hayop, ‘ but ifthe ass has a habit of falling into the same pit every Sabbath day, then the man should either fill up that pit or sell that ass.’

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UNLIMITED REMEDIAL RESOURCES.

People sometimes suppose that Dr. Pierce's Family Medicines represent the entire extent of his resources for curing disease. This is anerror. Experience proves that while the

Golden Medical Discovery, Favourite Pre- scription, Pleasant Purgative Pellets, Com- pound Extract of Smart-Weed, and Dr. Sage’s Catarrh Remedy, would, if faithfully used, cure a large variety of chronic com- plaints, there would be here and there a case which, from its severity, or from its compli- cation with other disorders, would resist their action, These exceptional cases re- quired a thorough examination into their symptoms, to ascertain the exact nature and extent of the disease or diseases under which the patient was laboring, and the use of specitie remedies to meet and overcome the same. This led to the establishment of the World’s Dispensary, at Buffalo, N. Y., with its Faculty of Physieians and Surgeons, each of whom is skilled in the treatment of chronic disorders in general and those belonging to his own special department in particular. To one is assigned diseases of the throat and lungs ; to another, diseases of the kidneys and genital organs; to another, diseases of the digestive system; and to another, diseases of the eye andear. Thus the high- est degree of perfection in medicine and surgery is attained. The establishment of this institution enables the Doctor to meet a long felt want in the treatment of chronic affections. By a careful consideration cf the symptoms as given in a writing, he suceess- fully treats thousands of cases at their lomes. Others visit the Dispensary in person. The amplest resources for the treatment of lingers ing affections are thus placed at the disposal of every patient, and those on whom the proprietory medicines do not have the desired effect can procure @ more thorough and eflicent course by a personal! application to the proprietor of the World's Dispensary,

6S RES GEE IO ERS OY 1 PERRET.

LOUAL LEGISLATURE.

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HOUSE OF ASSEMBLY.

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DEBATE ON THE ADDRESS,

Hon. Mr. Kerry, Commissioner of Crown Lands—I move that the House go into Committee of the whole House to consider the Draft Address, in answer tothe speech with which His Honor the Lieutenant Gov- ernor opened this session of the Legis< lature,

Mr. Hottanp—I second the motion.

Mr. L.H.Davirs—I don’t think it would be right, Mr. Speaker, to permit the motion to pass without some few expressions of opinion upon the merits of the Speech with which His Honor was pleased to open the Legislature, and upon the Address which has been moved in reply to it. Sir, I think it extremely ominous that the Gov- ernment have thought it necessary to select as proposer of the Address the Hon. Com- missioner cf Crown Lands; and that he should propose it without one word of com- ment. Arethe Government ashamed of the Speech which they put in the mouth of the Lieutenant Governor; or are they afraid of a little bantering on the part of the Opposition? It is not usual, either in the Imperial Parliament, or in the Colonial Legislature, for the mover of an Address,to be anofliceholder under Government; and it is a thing unheard of to allow the Ad- dress to pass in perfect silence. An inde. pendent member is usually secured, prob- ably because the Government wish to make it appear that they have the suyport of independent men. Perhapsit is because the Government is unworthy of such sup« port, that the mover of the Address happens to be the Hon. Commissioner of Crown Land, that the seconder holds a seat at the Board of Works, and that neither has a word to say in its favor.

I will now, Sir, call your attention to this precious document. The Speech of which itis the reply is a mere skeleton, which this Legislature will during the session have to fillup. And the Address is not re- markable either for its style, or the matter it contains. Why, Sir, the first paragraph is copied verbatim ei literatwn from the Ad- dress of Jast year. I thought, Sir, that gen- tiemen of the literary attainments of some members of the Hon. Committee would have been above mere copying. Is it be- cause they have not brains enough to com- pose anything original—that they have not ingenuity sufficient to produce anything better than clerical work? Inthe second