a

THE EXAMINER.

VOL. \

=

CHARLOTTETOWN, PRINCE EDWARD

ISLAND, MONDAY, AUGUST

8, 1874.

~ CLOSING AND ARRIVAL OF MAILS,

AT THE

POST OFFICE, CHARLOTTETOWN, P. E. ISLAND, APTER MONDAY, ttth MAY.

— — MALLS CLOS] DUE. Nova S Monday. W: sdlav a Monday, Wednesday. an : Friday. p | Friday, 6 p.m gatario,Qaucd New Br'ns- ) M ee & Frid m.jMon., Wed... and Friday, wick and United States, 4 10-30, p.m Eve Ite Friday, n-| mencing Friday 15th . M ay at 9 p. 1 About every alternate Suat- Gre B .. iX Supplementary m every i tinday, commmencing Sat- ernate Sunday, 2-50, p.1 urday, 16th May, 10 p. m., my? ot Sun Trl 7 Ma Creat I 4 via Queo | ! ' Friday, 10-30, p. m ‘ Great I 1? Monday, W . 1 Mond., Wed., and Friday, States ‘ Friday, 9 } 10-30, p.m. New! 4 West ? Same as G Britais viajSame as Great Britain, via Indies ‘ Halitax. Halifax. ggmmers 2 Daily, Sunday e 2 Daily, Sunday excepted, 2 ate off ae p.m. Georgetown a » Da Sunda , Daily, Sunday excepted, 2 ate es ‘1 p. m. West Fignish, A a~w sday.Saturday, 9 p. m. Tuesday, Friday, 2 p. m tet ‘ Fast St! 3.8 5s.) M vy. The Wednesday, Saturday, 7 p.m. &ec. ) Sout M ~>M I Wednesday, Saturday, 2 p.m Belfast. & ‘ B »M Ww s aM Wednesday. Friday ‘ ) 2 p.m Brack ul. 2 M I . Puesday, Friday, 9 a. m & ) Pisqu Johns 3] »F 2 Friday, 10 a x y s Regis . pos 8-30) ) stag 1 Registration fe s ‘ I "ostag $ News s s for ¢ livery must be pre-| sid Letters t Box 1 Steamers up to the time of their | a A. A. MACDONALD, Postmaster. os I I Ma 74 P. E. ISLAND

Business Cards. Mr. C. BYRNE,

yr. Vv

STEAMERS!

a. - \

Veterinary Surgeon, Summer Arrangement

A - On and After Tuesday, 12th Mav. rHE sTEAMERS

SL. Lawrence & Princess of Wales

leave the Company's Wharf, wea-

S.A, &e

LONDON. GREAT BRITAIN.

vo nace ther permitting, as under:

ae @ ,Q . = ae

so Por Shediac and Summerside. Charlottetow i Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Satur-

day,at o'clock in the morning.

Returning from Shediac,

Every Wednesday, Friday, and Monday, on arrivai of train from St. John.

Por Pictou and Hawksbury, Every Tuesday and Thursday morning at five o'clock, and for PICTOU & GEORETOWN, on Saturday, same hour.

CARVELL BROTHERS, AUCTIONS ERS. Commission Merchants,

AND

GENERAL AGEMTS. BANK BUILDING, QUEEN STREET

Charlottetown, P. E. Island

JAMES BRENAN, House, Sign, and Carriage Painter. Paper Hanger & Glazier SOURIS WEST.

H. R. MUHLICS’

Kitchen & Galley,

Every Wednesday and Friday, and from GEORGETOWN, Monday.

From Pictou to Charlottetown. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, on arriyal of train from Halifax

F. W. HALES.

ly

e

Farnishing Depot.

ALSO DEALER IN ALL KINDS OI! important to Travellers. . r —_—

Ship Work, A. 8 Express Team will leave Georgetown OCUPPERS ar Water Closet. Pin + for Charlottetown, on arrival of Boat Ss a F al “D cia iam ait Shad from Pictou, every alternate Saturday,com- = Ls : em : ‘ ep i | i mencing’July 11, and will return to George- Phones Se es ees ae ~~" town next day in time to connect with boat

sets edup a ie shortest notic: ng Naosccn CREIGHTON STREET. NOTE All lers and parcels for the OPPOSITE UNION HOUSE, “ily mail or Express must be left at the |

** ONeill House,” opposite W. R. Watson's

ricTtow. N. Ss. Esq.. Queen Street, Ch'town.

Ch’town. June 1 =74 GEORGE © NEILL, -“ . Propriet JOSEPH CREAMER, Halfway House” Vernon River. }

dune 29, 1s; h 2m

Physician & Surgeon,

HERM‘4NS & CITY HOTEL, |

ON,

CHARLOTTETOWN. 5 risine cacao pot gowns» Bell-Hangers, Gan and ‘Tin-swiths MONDAYS from 1 to 4 p m. uu My 3 j April 20, 1874.—tf QUEEN STREET, OPPOSITE WATSON’S DRUG STORE, BA N R H 0 J S E aye to return their thanks i 1e seneral j public forthe liberal pa re extended PLEASANTLY SITUATED ON o them since their commence rs : ask for a continuance of the same Phey North Side King’s Square, rave stanty on hand

4 neat Asortment ot TINWARE, KITCHEN UTENSILS &e., &¢.. &c.

{LL ORDERS in the ab BUSINESS

be punctually attended io Having

St John. - - - New Brunswick. J H. RUSSEL, PROPRIETOR.

F.M. CAMPBELL. General Merchant COON VIIiMSS TKN ANCL ELNOT, AUCTIONEER & BROKER TRINITY CORNER, GEORGETOWN, P. ELL. AGENT FOR Life Insurance (Co.

Sept. 1, 1873. 1

VULCAN FOUNDRY

ve w

lately made large purchases in the

ach as

Gias Pitting, Water Closets, Bell Pittings, &.. &€.,

Pur

Mandard

Orders in THIS BRANC#i NESS wil! be attended to with Despatch

GEORGETOWN. band. ps0 pny yolesale and reta WINDLAS: SAVER’S CRYSTAL PLUE, Sci MACHINERY CASTINGS general ai ways on neil, or cupolied of the shortest netics Sold Cheaper than ever Cash Paid Nov. 11, 1871 FOR ALL KINDS of OLD & SCRAP IRON J. A. RUTHERFORD & Co, FIRE AND MARINE. June 2. 1473 Georgetowr WILLIAM DODD. INSURANCE. Commission Yerchant and serrate

| IMPERIAL Fire Lusurance Company

OF LONDON. Subscribed and Invested Capital £1,965,000 Sterling.

MONTREAL Marine Assurancs Company. Capital and Cash Assets over $1,000,000

AUCTIONEER QUEEN SQUARE, CHARLOTTETOWN, P. E

PRINTING.

Power & Gordon Presses,

And a Good Variety of

The Newest Styles of Type,

ISLAND

The above OF FICES being of UNDOUBT- ED STANDING, guarantee perfect security and prompt payment of losses.

FENTON T. NEWBERY, Agent for Prince Edward Island Ch’ tow n, Jan. 20, 1873. ly

AVOID QUACKS.

A yictim of early indiscretion,causing ner- vous debility, premature decay, &c., having tried in vain every advertised remedy, has

We are prepared to do al! kinds of

BOOK & FANCY JOB PRINTING

¢n the Lowest Terms, at the

EXAMINER OFFICE.

which he will send free to his fellow-suf- erers. Address, J. H. REEVES, 78 Nas- sau Street, New York,

POETRY.

isthe irnitnntiriahinant tata ensmtnin Marinas NOT THE RIGHTEOUS, BUT SINNERS Comrades, that ‘ight in life’s desperate bat- tle, Marching in mud and mire, laden with care, Hearing the cries that rise over war's rattle, Blind with its smoke and confused with blare, Though ye be stricken sore, lo, where the standards soar! Faith, Hope, and Charity, Duty and Right, Close round each precious flag, though it be but a rag, Tattered and rent, bear it on in the fight. Stumble and rise again! Let the blood fall like rain— Wounds in the battle have smart Flight is but folly; give volley for volley; God helps the soul that does bravely its part.

no time to

Ave! and his love raises up e’en the dying! Buts in the timid a heart that won t quail, Cheers the despairing, and rallies the flying ing, Comforts us, strengthens us, knows not to fail. Comrades! with sucha guide, say, shall we turn aside, Lay down our arms and submit to be

slaves; After our heavy pains put on still heavier chains, Chains that will bind us when cold in our graves?

No! step out lighter boys; grasp the sword tighter, boys; Shoulder to shoulder press on for the prize, Help one another, and should some weak brother Fall, though we totter, let’s help him to rise.

What? Shall a wound, a false step, or fall, daunt us,

dying—I hope now that I shall soon die. I heard mamma’s last words—I had her last kiss —uand theo I fell down on the flcor by the bed, and was ill for many days.”’

A long silence, broken only by the deep breathing of Katharine, followed the lat words; and, although the widow's heart ached for the mighty sorrow which hed fallen on one so young, yet there was a brave, enduring look in Katharine’s face, that forbade the commonplace of pitying talk. So the silence went on, until the girl, startled from her reverie by some passing thought, looked suddenly up; aud then, bes coming conscious of her long abstraction, blusked painfully. She felt that her grief had made her rude and selfish, and that, in its indulgence, sho had forgotten everything. Few grown-up people, and still fewer childs ren, would have felt this, or thought othe ~ wise than that so great a sorrow as the deatb of their dearest earthly friend, was excuse suflicieut for any amount of abstraction or negleet of form or ceremony ; but Katharine Nugent’s most beautiful virtue was her up» selfiehness—her ge uine preference of other people’s comfort and happiness to her own— and her generous readiness to sacrifice her own wishes to theirs, All these feeliogs were, to Katharine’s sensitive faney, out- raged by her self-absorp‘ion ; and, with a burning cheek, she was about to express her contrition, when a sudden summons to receive a visitor carrie! away hcr hostess, When they met again, the Captain was near, with a plan anda proporal.

‘I’ve been thinking your journey over in

| Not so! we live and die for our hosts’ Lord

my mind, lassie,’ he said, ‘ and talking about

Things that are common to one and to all, | it with Aunt Betty Give to the freeman fresh reason to taunt |} " s us, | deal too long for you to take alone, even if Cowards that fly at the very first call? you were used to Enzlish ways and customs, which you are not; and, as its impossible | for me to go with you, and present you to

It wou'd be a great

on high, Trusting His mercy, and pity, aud love, Welcoming sorrow, foreknowing the mor- row |

| your aunt myself, I must find some one else

STEAM NAVIGATION COMPY'S

| Who boast in him if

Returning from Hawksbury.

ROYAL MAIL STAGE!

‘heapest Markets,intended fur dlouse Builders,

lam prepared to SELL THEM at RATES AS LOW AS CAN BE HAD IN THE CITY,

A Lot of Firat Clases WATL.R COOLERS on |

| not listen to her.

Changes our pains to the gladness above. On to the thickest fray! strong make way,

Way for the charge of the halt and the |

lame! Not unto us, oh Lord, quering sword, Nut unto us, Lord, but unto Thy name!

that we bear con-

Ah! who can tell of his might but the weakest?

Who know His life if not those who were |

dead ?

not those that are meekest ? Who trust but those from whom Earth's

Hope has fled?

/ } Water from out the stones, flesh on the dry | except my unt Grove,’

and }

dead bones, These are his works, God:

our Redeemer

Press to the battlefield, He is our sword and |

shield;

On! though our life's blood ensanguine the sod:

On, o'er remorse and pain! On, for our

way is plain!

Those who were last must be first in the |

fight. Courage ‘our sinning was but the beginning, God biess our ending for Him and for

right.

LITERATURE. KATHARINE. TALE OF

A WOMAN'S

TRIALS.

BY MRS. BURBURY.

Katharin’s voice which had hitherto been |

clear and rapid, full of feeling and energy, | you would like to delay no longer than is

now sunk into a broken whisper, thick and low. Her eyes drooped, and her hands were clasped tightly.

‘From the moment she was scized with |

the fever. I never left her ; they tried to

take me away, but 1 wou'd not go.

was dead; and while mamma lay there, no |

Even if they bad, it would have been of no use, I should not have obeyed. From the first L knew that she would die. The doctor told

one had aright to command me.

—wany had, but I had no hope—from the very firet I had none. that she might know me before she died. I

heard people say that I should also cutch the } }

fever. And then [ was frighteved, not bes cause | might die, but lest it should be before

| mamma; so I took all the care of myself I

could.

to leave mamma ; and [I was quite well to

the last.

I was who

* Late at night the deirium went.

alone with mamma, for the woman helped me down, and | sat and watched her alone. The moon wes vers bright, and I could sce every corner of the cabin, everything about,

as plainly as if it was day. I saw mamma’s

eyes open, and her lips move, and I saw that

she knew me. Before then, | used to think that if such happiness ever came I should cry with joy, but when it did come, I was as quiet as if 1 didnot care. I knew] did care, and that my beart beat terribly, but somea how I could not show I called for the doctor,as I had been to!d to do, and he

ite

| came, and gave mamma something, and,

when she closed her eyes and slept, he took

me away. I knew what ho was going to tell me. I had heard him @ay it over and over

again, thoagh he said it softer to me than I had ever heard him speak to any one before,

| but I did not heed that—the words were

the same, and I was angry that he had

taken me away, even for a minute. I went

and will fitthem up in agood workmanlike style | back quickly, and never stirred from mas | fo a generous public, we would say, that all '

OF OUR BUSI}

ma’s bedside again. her to awake and speak to mo; I was so

wretebed, and many, many times | was) going to move, that she might arouse, but | | the thought of the doctor’s dreadful words |

came into my mind, and I was afraid to

breathe. At last the long night went, and

when it was daylight mamma awoke, She had seen Mary die, and she knew what was going to happen. She told me so, and tried

| to comfort me, for now that she spoke I | eried bitterly, and for @ long time I could

But when I saw how uns happy aod faint, and weary my sorrow made ber, I tried with all my will to be quiet and attend to what she eaid. She told me a great deal about papa and herself, and Gens

ernal Eyre, which I was too miserab'e to ‘understand, for talking made ber so weak | that she could scarcely speak Jouder than a

whisper, aud I begged her not to try; but she would not rest until she had told me where to find her sister—the only relative she had in the world—and what to do when she was dead, and I arrived io England. 1

| tried very, very hard to listen, and under-

stand all that she wished me to know, but I could not, I could only think that sbe was

going. At last she could speak no more— she could only look at me, and hold my | hand, and then | did not ery.

was coming—I saw it in the doctor’s face— and | felt as if I was going mad; but!

discovered a simple means of self-cure | mastered the wish to scream, and spring an

the bed beside her, I held my breath, and was quiet as if | wasdead—I hoped | was

| who is trustworthy.

Stout men and |

| By the bye, though, have you

Mary |

to nurse her had gone to lie |

Oh! bow I longed for |

I knew what |

{

Of course Mrs. Grove does not know of your arriv@l?’

* No.’

‘Then you must write forthwith. She ought to come up here to meet you; but, perhaps, under the circums'ances, it may be better that you should go to her at once. It

was your mamma’s wish thet you should,

was it not?’

‘Te.’

* Of course, then, that decides the matter. any other friends in or about London ?’

‘No, I donot think I have ang at all,

‘ Bat General Eyre 7°

* I never beard of his having any relations except a cousin, whose name I never knew, and who lives in

France, and mamma sad

that he and the General were on bad! | terms.’ ‘Ah, well, I do not think, even ifsit|

that affects you, lassie. A stepfather’s cousin is not likely to inter-

were otherwise,

| est himself about the counexions by mars

riage of a man with whom he i3 cn bad terms ; especially if he hears that she is with her own mother’s sister, who is clearly, to my mind, the fittest person to take charge of her, The only thing, therefore, now to be arranged, is your journey to Birmings ham; you must go under proper care, and at ths moment, I cannot fix upon the per- son to whom 1 can entrust you. Of course

| needful?’

‘ No.’

* Bat you cannot go directly,’ said Mrs.

Manon, ‘else ' ‘What?’ asked the Captain, as she paused!

‘Why—but reaily I donot like to mention it, it seems so inhospitable, but Harriet Lennard remember

aud bes husband—you

| the Leunards, he was pur-er on board the

‘ ow Thames when | me to cheer up, for that ehe might get well | going to Liverpool to see his mother. | will pass through Birmingham on their way, My only hope was, |

in her—are They

came home

and would, I am sure, take every care of | Mise Nugent. Harriet is not very chatty o1 amusing aS @ companion, but she’s a very

| good girl, and Miss Nugent couldn’: be in | safer hands.

The only objection toth: plan

8, the time being 60 short.’ I did all the doctor told me, except|'’, ,, kat hae

| * How long ?’

| ‘They goto,smorrow. I[ would ask them | to put off the journey @ day or two Jonger, if it were not a case of illness, but Lennard is very anxious to sce his mother, and of course Harriet couldn't delay him.’

‘No, certainly,’ said Katharine, ¢ but if they would take me then, I could be ready { shall vot be tired tosmorrow.’

‘Oh, my dear child,’ cried the widow, ‘1 can’t think of allowing you to travel again 60 80On at least.’

*But then I should lose this opportunity, and it would be so much better to go with some oue known to you and Captain Elliot ’

*So it would, and that is why I men- tioned it, only I can’t bear to think of your setting off again directly, after such a long | voyage. Il almost think you had better wait | afew days, and take your chance of some other protection offering.’

‘No, thank you. If thie lady will take me, I would rather go with her. I shall be quite rested by tosmorrow.’

* Your spirit is greater than your strength,’ said the Captain; ‘nevertheless, I rgree with you, that if you are able to travel with the Lennards, it would be infinitely better. At any rate, it is worth making an effort for.”

‘Oh, yes; indeed it is.’

Well, then, [ will senda note round to | Harriet, and ask her to come in this afters | noon, and we can talk it over. Perhaps | they may be able to stay another day,’ said | Moe. Mano. with | love, into your bedroom; there is a cosy

| fire there, so you’ can writs your letter, and | then lie down until divner, or longer, if you can sleep. No one shall disturb you ; and | I will take care that whenever you awake, | eomething shall be ready for you.’

| Kinder even than ber hospitable words

were the pleasant manner and cordial smile of the widow; so that Katharine felt, when | she was left alone to write her letter, as if

something that ehe loved was gone again. | And this letter, what a terrible and difli- | cult taek it was! Like all children, Katha- rine disliked letter-writing ; and about th's letter there was something peculiarly sad. Even to one expert and fluent, the composi- ‘tion of such au epistle as this would have been a formidable task ; but to that young, sorrowful, inexperienced girl, it was a severe ordeal. To write to an unknown relative—

You must have a few days’ rest

‘And now come me,

one ignorant of all, save her mere existence, —to claim from hera home and tenderness iu the name ot the dead—to fix upon the sen- tences and phrases best caleulated to find favour, and best befitting their relative posis

tien of aunt and neice, suppliant and bene-

factress—was indeed an ardous undertaking. The more so, that never, until her mother’s last illness, had Katharine heard of ber aunt; and now, whether she were young or old, rich or poor, in * good society’? or in none at all, the girl was utterly ignorant.

With thoughts of tie letter, came also vis~ ions of the cabin death~bed; memories of her mother’s looks, and words, and wishes; a craving, intense und passionate, to be with her again, even in death, in her eolemn sea- grave ; or, if that could not be, to look upon ber sister—the being nearest, and of course the most like her in the world—to throw her arms arOund this second mother, and hear the echo of the now silent voice say ‘My child, my child!’

With feelings such as these, no wonder Katharine’s pen ran rapidly over her paper, and that the ill.written, larve-lettered words were full of a strange passionate eloquence. They came strainght fiom her heart—her bursting, loving, trustful heart,; and she neither knew nor heeded that thephrases were unconnected, and the word:,—some of them, —badly spelled.

Mamma’ssister—her own sister, and there- fore her image—alike, of eourse, ia looks, and words, and ways,—how was it she had never thought of her thus before ?—how was it that she had voluntarily consented to remain from her this unnecessary day ?—what had she been thinking of ? But now that she had thought—that she did ;emember the great store of joy preparing for her—she woald think of, remember notl ing else.

And so, the letter finished and sealed Katharine teil asleep,

And to her dreams came a bright vision of angels, wearing the features of hor dead mother, aud leading towards her a fair young ereatare—only by her mortality less radiant and lovely than themselyes,—and the inetinet of Katharime’s heart called her—Aunt. Oh! sad and weary hearts, toil*driven, or bereav- ed, thank God for dream:—for those fair glimpses of the unseen world, which, while they last. or their sweet memories remain, cqualise you with the happy !

Somewhere there is a charming legend— of Germany, I think—of astudent, who, poor, miserable, and hopeless, dreamt one night so bright a dream, that it haunted him all day, rod when evening came retuinced; not, hows ever, as before, but a continuation,—a new chapter, as it were, of a life, in which he played the hero. Night after night this dreamslife went on, each vision taking up the glittering thread where the last had laid it | down, until at last the studert Jived two ac+ tual, real lives, each

roing on side by side

or rather each commencing where the other cased, and so a'teraating. Dut whata con. trast !—the day all poverty and strugg'es isolation and despondency ; the night all joy

and wea!t! » fame, r the dream became peopled with brig}

ase, and loye—yes, |

shapes, and one the student loved.

wonder, then, the day paesed heavily, and | « |

the starving

youth pined for the night, which | released him from hunger and want, and | gaye him happiness and plenty , weak from positive hunger, the order of things, learning life asa hideous dream, and his visions as | realities. months, and men wondered more and more,

what could be the hidden power which kept the poor balfiamished being alive,for to none | Eon

had he revealed the darling eecret of his life.

At last his fair youug dreamsbride diced, and the frail existence, which had been a} miracle s> long, sunk atterly. He lived |

long enough to confess his strange tale to his

priest, and then full of a strong Lope to meet his:piritevife, expired. It was lata in the afternoon ripe awoke. happy,—appier than any she had enjoyed since her mothei’s death ; but all the evens | ing after, there Was an abstraction in manner ani words, which showed how deep= she was musing upon her newly-fonnd trea-

sure,—the relative whom Ler dreams seemed | ;,

to have made personally known to her. In this mood she was introduced to Mrs. | Lennard, who, relieved from any ap; rebens | sions that she might have formed, of finding |

her proposed companion either noisy or | |

troublesome, willingly consented to take charge of her. | ** Although, time is short,’’ she said, * and | John is anxious to get on without de'ay, | fear |

|

|

'

|

that I shall be unable to remaim longer than

is necessary to place Miss Nugent in the care | of her aunt.”’ returus | ed Captain Elliot. “ Of course, her aunt wiil meet her at the coach-office; and, judging of |

‘» Nothing more will be requisite,”’

her by the very litule I saw of her sister, | | Mrs. Eyre, 1 am sure that, once in her charge, |

no child can be otherwise than happy. She | will not require us then—will you lassic?’’

And the child’s heart, dwelling upon its happy dream, answered—

“No.”

The next moraing, by the faint light of a | wet March day, Katharine and her chaperon left London. Her kind friends accompanied her to the coach, and the widow’s voice was t:emulous as she bade the young stranger | farewell.

CHAPTER LI.

THE RECEPTION OF KATHARINE

GROVE.

BY

‘* Well, if here isn't a pretty thing! I thought something would happen after my dreams last n git. I kuew they couldn't be for nothing. Why, Mr. Grove, who do you think is dead, and has sent her child here, as if we hadn’t plenty to do for our own?"

“ Lord ! how should I know?

* Why, you’d never guess. sister, Nugent!’’

** What, that pretty thing that I gave the doll to, when we were married—she dead ”’

“Yes; so this letter says. Pretty, you call ber? Well, I never could see much prettiness in her; and 1 don’t think she’s acted very prettily now—going and dying,

Who?” My tali-

aud sending her girl, without saying so much |

97?

as ‘with your leave, or by your leave.

It wouldn’t have made much odds if she had, | suppose; would it? Folks don’t die to order, generaliy ; do they?” asked a heavy-looking youth who sat beside his mother, devouring bis breakfast.

it would be a good thing, father, to invoice

off a rich uncle or two now and then wouldn’t it 2?”

“ Ah! but I guess Kate died poor enough. else she’d never thought of sending her child here. Rich peopie’s children don’t need to go begging for homes.”’

“ No more ought a sister’s, be she poor or rich, Lord knows we've enough of our own; but, for all that, ae good, and we can

No] «

and that, moti his mind bes | not came enfeebled, aud in the end he reversed | kui to look upon pul

So things went on froin weeks to | '

when Katha- | i lier sleep had been long a:d|_

her

MR’. |

If they do, |

afford to give share and s! are alike to one of own kith and kin who wants it ; 80 mak@the child welcome, poor thing, when she comes, there’s a good girl; and now !et’s hear all about it. Poor, pretty little Kate!”

The last was an unlucky exclamation ; since the \ery plain and vulgar Mrs. Grove resented beauty in others as a crime; and there was no surer way to her ill graces than than to be more lovely, elegant, or admired than herself.

“ Pretty, yee; that’s all you men ever think of; and a nice thing some of you'd make of it with sech nollies for wives. It’s a_ pity you have:,.’t got one, just to teach you—’’

“What, Meg ?—that handsome is a8 hand- some dues! Come, wife, don’t be crose. I shall take to the child for your sake, pretty or ugly, never fear, so now tell me all about her, for time’s short. We've a large order in tosday, and I must be off to the faetory When’s the child coming?’

“Tosnight, eo she says. I never read such a letter in all my life—it’s downright non* sens°, nothing but ‘ dearest and loves and dears all through,

aunte,”’ She’s a hypocrite, I°m sfraid, or else a little fool.

rare

NO. 31

Sch Maca Pe EE THE ARMIES OF EUROPE.

War is exceedingly expensive, and soon tells upon the resources of even the wealth- iest nations, but peace, if it be spent in continued preparations for war, is not much cheaper than actual hostilities, while it lacks the stimulus and excitement which war naturally brings in its train. ‘This has been very strikingly illustrated by certain tables supplied in the London Times, in order to show the increase which has taken place in the military force of the principal European States during the last fifteen years. Theamount of industrial capability thus thrown idle and thrown for support on the rest of the community, is positively aps» palling. Nor does it prevent war. It rather tends to provoke it by making neigh» boring countries little better than en trenched camps, and neighboring people ready at any moment to fly at each others’

throats. Thus stands the record :— - be

> 2s s m. < 283 Year. ne ea8 s 35”

° >

? fe e bh) DURA iiiececseckews 1859 634,000 443,800 es 1874 °*856,980 °452,450 European Russia. ...1859 1,134,200 694,100 “ 1874 1,401,510 665,810 Asiatic Russia....... 1859 89,950 75,655 - 1874 118,300 87,550 Etaly .........c0.cc:s0-30Oe SLLee Ae - 1874 605,200 322,600 FOCONOE i. 6ssccenvens 1859 836,800 483,700 “ 1874 1,261,160 710,130 France & Algeria ...1859 640,500 438,000 “ 1874 977,600 525,700 BOL PION os siaenes 1859 =80,250 53,800 ‘ 1874 93,590 59,140 Holland 1859 58550 42,200 as 1874 64,320 32,430 Great Britain.........1859 245,800 17,300 as 1874 478,820 71,869 Denmark. .1859 57,550 38,450 u 1874 48,700 30,500 Sweden & Norway...1859 134,900 46,300 “é 1874 204,510 54,910

*Increase 222, * Increase 8,559.

The drain upon the population to keep these immense armaments may be seen from the following table, which gives the number of soldiers in the different countries for every million of the population :

NUMBER OF SOLDIERS IN EACH MILLION,

80,

I never can understand so much feeling and and rubbish. It would have been more to the purpose , | think, if she had written to ask if we'd take her, before dearesting me in this way.’

Ah, she was a goose for that. She should have known what she wa to t for her blarney first, mother ldn’t she? She isn't Ifwide awake, I can see

“ How vulgar you do get, Edward !” said lis sister, a tall, handsome girl, dressed in the extreme of showy fashion “ Blarney! wide-awake ! where do you get your words?”

Where you get the money for these trum- peries,’ replied Edward, tossing up with his fork the embroidered reticule that lay upon the table, in the shop, where it would d g t J as ee | show jy girls il i f I hould |]

‘] dare say you would,” interrupted Jane,

loring- with anger, and snatching away her bag; “but y > not very likely to have what you like. Mamma, if aunt’s dead, shan’t we—you and I, at least, and Pa’— have to go in mourning

Why, I don’t know end -

imstances a good dea

What she’s left ; el laughed the th, a ] was nv -

g 10 I 1) p, 5 I i a | lim he - " | B meal Oh, no, Y But, M i ha . nly | thi ! ‘ ! t Peopl b Lit w t them ilking B s vere gt i ail i l a }

\ trimme ape, 1 it leep— cra]

on the 1 y Ww be ough, and a ricl lark silk s I an anything. I

st { lj al

{ re we shal hear of 1 ig tim ist Jet me 10W something a y new visitor that’s eviing ; and then | leave you to settle pes and tl em-bo} ! your heart's

nt,

I 8 b man ; what

‘ J t he makes ab g here,

ad it your i

And, witl t tuous h lillie Katt va wn across the tal

| a tie t mur-

L th i { to himst ‘mother

ss au herles sa hard bed t (

And h tt s to the table here v

il nois ' ! ‘ wel t break

ist i nt hia t 1 w and show git 10, “all-al bed in t juestion of l ng,had quit gotten the friendl g stranger who was even now nher way to claim their protection an

lle tn 1 aw th g and then

ig Uy from tal .

i ( - bi >M \ [ sea lg 1 ther ors! 1?

“« Me well] r heard anything like the thouglitlessness of mer Don’t you know

ls Frida -stairs clean la How on earth do you think I am t ured to run afler a child, wl an ' { ! ad from the Nels ip here I Wa the Indies tot

W ney l, Vilg \ tea an | r iat ry Valk Vn an meet the coach, and bring tl hild up. Wi you g dal ‘." usin ind kind ?

Oh ves | }? \ i

1 coach of irse, for the st horrid

lirt and I yuldn't lik Pp ny

“Oh, ah! Jenny, a coach and four; or if we cant get that, there’s a spare trolly at the factory you can ha \ hall down in style, don’t you fear !” cried Edward as he followed his father from the room

Poor, gentle, loving Katharine, and is thi the home,—are these the yMpanions to whom you are coming; and with eagerness to see whom, and recognize your dead mother’s sweet features, you pine and grow heart-sick with hope and expectation ?

To L continued. LT TI Success in life mainly depends upon perse- verance. When aman has determined to follow a certain line of business, he must at

the same time resolve to persevere until suc-

cess crowns his effort. He must never

|; cast down by bifficulties which may beset |

| his path—for whoever conquers difficulty, | conqners a weakness of his own frail nature likewise. How many men have commenced business under the most favorable auspices and yet when acloud has momentarily over shadowed their path, have lost ali command over themseives and fied before the temporary gloom, instead of persevering on until the cleud has been dispersed, and sunshine on more smiled upon their efforts Others more fickle, have thought their business, in some miner departments, unworthy of thei

yerseverance and energy, and forgetting the | 5 5

good old maxim that, “ whatever is worth do ing is worth doing weli,” have ceased to

whole busines become greatly neglected

We are too apt to attribute success in | business to good fortune, instead of great perseverance. Thisis a great evil, and should be eschewed as it leads many to suppose that Dame Fortune will do that for them which they are unwilling to do for themselves.

The history of every great success in busi- ness is the history of great perseverance. By perseverance the mind is strengthened an‘l

| ed so formidable is a second time surmounted witn ease and confidence,

Energy and great perseverance are never thrown away on a good cause, or left unre- warded ; and to every man of business, pers severance should be his motto and then lhe may look with confidence to fortune as his | reward.

00 —

In arecent argument between a body of

men under Major Jones, of Jacksboro, Texas

and Kiowa and Apache Indians, the Sons of | the Forest were armed with improved breech- |

loaders.

si © 24, 3-2 428 28 -3= §*6 ae aS Austria ....... sosnenaebenen amen ine 15,674 European Russia and Cau AE oss wigunnecidonseneoniin 20,085 10,021 Italy ... ose eee oe 13,863 Germany .. u .., 06,815 20,624 France and Algeria .» 29,059 16,290 Belgium ..20 333 15,013 Holland ... 19,230 2,894 | Great Britain . ..16,088 2,935 Denmark .-- 030,392 19,748 Switzerland . . 77,624 40,251 Servia . 105,913 69,977