AND SEMI-WEEKLY ADVERTISER.

“Bktvtfififrii-EENERAL IN'rEi..LtcaNCe, Ll't‘EttA'l‘URE, ac.

NEUTRAL IN LOCAL P

CIIARLO'I‘TE'I‘OWN, PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND, FEBRUARY ’28, I844.

in. l.

OLI'I‘ICS AND RELtciioxf

NO. 5|.

INTERESTING TALE.- ’I‘HE It‘ll! E-F LY.

A poor woman named Mary was 'tting one evening near her Window, ,Pwsive looks wandering over the might orchard which surrounded rt-ortage. It was during the in- use heat of summer. She had work- au day, and when the sun began sink had gathered into one heap e fragrant ltay which had been own in the morning from her orch- d. The last rays ofthe setting sun st their purple tints over the hon- u: the bright moonheams st ream- r through the cabin window, trellis- wrth rtne branches, and tho circu- rtiirtns cf the panes were distinctly died on the white tloor ofthe room the Ferdinand, six years of age, . leaning on the window-seat be- this mother. His sweet counte- ncelinre the appearance of health dinnocence. The moonlight play- among his long curling hair, and neon the white collar of his shirt dscnrletjacket.

I’onrllarv had sat down to rest self; but her heart was sorrowful, illier mental sufferings were more rwhehuing than the fatigucs of the . She sat down to supper : a ulol‘milit was on the table, bttt she idtcutcely taste it. little Fer- ind was also sad, and'sat motion- s; fnr he saw his mother plunged rriet'. Seeing her weep, he began ry too, and like her was unable to

‘he cause of their grief we shall relate. ' lary had lately become a widow. _n, her husband, had died in the mg. He was one ofthe worthth ii; men in the t’illage.and through dumk had succeeded in loving some of his earnings. He .Ilfld thascdthe cottage and orchard of ch we spoke; but this acquisition obliged him to Contract some debts. htd also planted fruit trees,which d."lJrodItcetl excellent fruit. Al- who was an orphan without "9. he had married her for the « education she had received.— h'd also distinguished herself a- bil'e "liter young girls ofthe vil- ‘ liter piety, gentleness, her di- ll” “pork, and irreproachable 98;“ 'Ihehusband and. wife lived most perfect harmony,when an ' malted the country; and ’v it'CketI .by the Contagious “Mp-carried offin a few days. :0: .lary had lavished the most 'h- "’5 0“ I'll". end scarcely were: closed cre she herself mm“ with the same fever 'L‘sdxfllgpt himto the grave tred but sldii'llytvmg mm, and MW“ and her rounh

III, '

-I

husband’s illness or consrderably in ur-

rears, and,to add to her misfortunes.l she suddenly saw herself menacedi with the less of her little cottage.— John had for a length oftime \vork- ed for a rich farmer in the neighbour- hood. The latter, touched with his fidelity and zeal, and desirous to re- ward him, advanced him the sum of eight hundred francs, to help to pur- chase a cottage and small garden.— John was to pay it back by a hundred francs a-year,half in money and half in daily labour.

He had been very exact in paying his benefactor, and when death took him from his wife and son his debt amounted to no more than a hundrch francs. Mary was well aware of allr these circumstances; but, the farmer dying himself a victim to the same epidemic, his daughter and eon-in- law inherited his property. Among his papers was the bill for eight hun- dred francs. signed in John’s hand- writing. This acknowledgement fell into the hands of his successors, who never having heard any mention of the. affair, exacted from Mary the. reimbursement of the whole sum.— 'I‘he poor widow in consternation af- firmed, and called God to witness, thather husband had paid his debt, with the exception ot'a hundred francs.

just before his death.

But she had no proof; she wastreat- ed as an impudent liar,and' the young farmer summoned her before the court. Mary was sentenced to pay_ the entire sum, which was declared: due. The poor woman possessed no- thing but her cottage and orchard; no other resource remained but to sell T them. She threw herself at the far-i mer’s feet, and conjured him to have compassion on her. 'lhe little or-, phnn Ferdinandjoint-d with Iris mo-i ther,:rnd weeping embraced the knees; of this harsh and cruel man. All, was in mm. The forced sale was to} take‘place in the morning, It had,

just been announced to the unfortu-IIEmd P713855": llel‘ 50" to her heart ; nate widow by a peasant from a- ; for the child’s Words brought comfort cross the hedge while she was werk- i 10 her mind-

ing in her orchard; and this it wasi which had caused her such bitter sorrow. :

Casting her eyes first toward-i hea-l ven. and then on her dear Ferdinand, she burst into-tears. Iler looks be- came tixed, and a painful silence ex- pressed still bettcr than her tears the. emotions of her soul.

At this thought her heart again overflowed,and the tears rolled down her cheeks.

At this moment, Ferdinand, who until now had set quietly weeping, and looking at his mother, approach- ed her,and said, ‘ Momma, don’t fret so, or I shan’t be able totalk to you; do not cry; you know what my papa said to us when he was so ill in bed, ‘ God,’ said .

he, pressing our hands, ' is the pro-l tector ofthe widow, and the Father. ofthe orphan: pray to him in all your’ wants. Ile will have pity on you. These were my papa’s words: are they not true ?’

' Yes, my child,’ said his mother, whose feelings were calmed by these words.

‘ Well, then,” replied Ferdinand, ‘ why do you feel so sorrowful 9-- Pray to God, momma: he will come to our aid. When I was with papa

in the torest where he was cutting

wood, I had not long to cry whenever i

anything happened to me: if I wasl pierced with a thorn, I went to himi

.at once; I asked him for bread, ori 'begged him to take out the thorni

which pained me; he always left'his axe to give me food, or to dress my wound. God is like papa; he is not hard-hearted and unfeeling, like that rich man who repulsed us, and turn. ed us out of doors when we went to throw ourselves. on our knees before him. Yet God is much richer than this man; look out ofthe window—- see the moon and stars—all are Ills; the whole world is his, papa always said so. We tnust not wecpfso,mam- ma : come, let us pray to God, he will surely aid us; begin, I will pray with you. You will see if we do not succeed better than with the rich man.’

‘ You are. right, dear child,’ replied his mother, shedding sweeter tears,

Mary. too,was consoled; she clasp-I

,cd her hands; and raised her eyes,l bathed in tears, to heaven. .ing her example, Ferdinand olsojoin- comes 0"“ ted his little hands, and tttrned his looks towards heaven.

‘ 0, my God,’ sparkled like dew drops. Mary pray-i,

The mo”... ever. he was very anxious that beams re“ 0,, the figure of the mother mother would-help him to catch the: and child, and the tears in their eyes V fife-“5'5

severely wrung when, driven from our house, and having reached tin- summit of the bill, we turn to take it last look at it. Teach us to profit by our sufferings. ‘rrant only that we. may find a place of refuge; however wretched, we shall be happy if thy Holy Spirit is with us.’

Mary’s emotion prevented her continuing. Her eyes were fixed up- ward with a mingled expression of hope and sorrow. Ferdinand stood by her side, his hands still firme clasped , when he suddenly cried out, while he pointed at something with his finger: ' Mamma, mamma. look; what is that little bright star coming towards the window? 'IIow pretty it is ! O, mammal ’tisjust like the stars ofheavcn. It is coating into the room. See, see, rnamrna, it has risen as high as the ceiling. llow cttrious I’

‘ It is a tire-fl ',’ said his mother; ‘ by day-light its appearance is not extraordinary; but at night it shim-s, as you see, with a beautiful lttstt'e.’

‘ Mamma,’ said the little boy, ‘ can I take hold of it without danger?— W'ill not its light bunt like fire?’

‘ It will not harm you,’ answercil his mother, smiling at the artless and childiin joy of her son; ‘take it in yourhand to examine. it more close- ly. This insect is another woridcr ofthe Creator’s power.’

Nothing more was wanting to make- Ferdinand forget all his sorrows. He ran to catch the tire-fly, which h n;- cred about the room, now taking rte- fuge on the clrairsaand then on the table. But at the very instant. that his little hand was on the point ofsMx- ing the brilliant insect it disappeaitd between a large press and the wall. The child stooped down to look titt- der the press.

‘ I see it very well,’ said he, “just close to the wall; its light shines all round it, and one would take it fvr the moonlight, it is so bright and clear. But I can’t reach it; my arm is ten short.’

‘ I’Vait a moment,’ said his Ill"-

Fonnw- ther, ‘it will not be long before it

Ferdinand waited a momert. How- l:i~'

‘ Dear mamma,’ said he in a gen-

said she to herself, ‘this Very dayzed, :trttl Ferdinand repeated each “9 "Ulcer?" “‘3 aPPr93"le h": "I"

then is the last I shall ever make hay in this orchard; these plums, which

i

the the last fruits which my poor child will gather from these trees, planted for him by his father, . cultivated with So much care. This is, perhaps, the last night which we shall pass under this roof, tomorrow evening our house will he in posses-

an ttnhnppy orphan. , . :itilu-tion; we have no refuge in this The hill“ lmy took the “W’IIF "' “I” and i world. call on thee in our necessity. . . . _ Vcr its, and let not injustice deprive he. was beside himself \HIII Joy: IN: its ot'this cottage. will be done.

i\vortl.

malte it come out, orjust draw the-

. 0’ m". Father} said she. 5“!th press a little from the wall, and I can . - ' ' , lhave plucked for my Ferdinand,aro to the prayer of a poor widow, and (“Wily get “-

II’e-are in great ‘

But thou art our Father ; we I)cli-

Neverthelessdliy It'it be thy intention

Mary rose, and did as he desired.

hollow ofhis hand, and began to t x- amine it with the greatest attention :

was happier than a king. In the mean time Mary was very

sion of another. and the poor orphan to send its this trial, give us also, 0 l differently occupied. At the moment and his mother will not know where Lord I strength to hear it meekly. when she drew away the press the

to lay their head.’

I

the not permit our hearts to be tooinad heard something fail on the