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Vol. VEE,

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A Weekly Hournal of Politics,

Charlottetown, Prince Edward Ishand, Monday, Novembe

Literature, and

“This is truce Liberty, when Freeborn Men, having to advise the Public, may spoak free.’’---Euripides.

r 3, 1862,

— omen

———_— : a ee aoe

New Series.---No. 4, e

ae Te Vaiuable Freehold Estate AT PRIVATE Sauk.

PPLE « VICTORIA” STEAM MILL, liens waeriber und ait? t the

. * the ant f this City i ! nachinery and | wear wor “ : | tely L verve Ww prie fad on ti OFRe Pow ¢ The wee ie ! er, aud id eamly be re ergo " ? ? se. consisting of MIN, Dwelling | Hi intse re , would be sold st a moderate | st, pitveble tn ter anttual instalmerta, with in ' \ For inferoeet or ple eat opply at the offices of

CHARLES YOUNG

3, Ise isi Sm

FOR IMMEDIATE SALE,

PAYUALT DESIRABLE WATER LOT, in

‘ :

ttetown, Chet

GEORGETOWN, containing half an |

acre of LAND, with usual privileges, known as No. l,or Porwr Lor. Terma Cash or short time on security. Apply to the Hyun. Jossru Hlenscer, Charlottetown.

December 2, 1861. tf

Summer Valley FARM POR SALE.

& Rares Chaece seldom to be met with,

mo be Sold, the

' a]

Leasehold Interest of atiful k ARM. contaiming alx wat heed in Prince Edward Islan mg ot the St. Peter's Read, and also on t iliboneeeh River. within tet

W barf, and « Aliea f nt arlotiet

acres of ¢

ler bw the + , seldeet the the y

vt . at & De ike Cherperne sy

Cats, Potatoes, Turnips, Backs

‘ nearly <i ated rude vy ot Wheat wheut, &W + wit! saeathkent tiynaher yaa ts

taves ex ed by nene elise onthe river—command

Ww i the «atv atri iar

ee ae ee Se ome Soe * | ee Carrie Mi. Rich, from Beston,

* sur set

ta whel kr 2 ifs cont tity te veut cde pests « nu ‘ ‘ i and er : en Int ver, and A

e shore, in whieh, with little labour tm lected aud depusitedany required quantity

‘ d a beeatiehanes nt The Cove

farm every’ autumn

re profitalde, comfortable of commodions ue

tf : eulkonaan ‘a wl fa wr cannot wel

fe romgheut the Island The termsaof ante

* te aye sencatd knuewn nm apm stay

i Das Baesax, Chartottetown

owner on the premises where planus of the eu VE seCcil

FRANCIS McQUAID

September, 1862 tf

l’arm for Sale.

} ee Subscriber offers for sale his valu- } CG. Cc. VAUX. e LEASEHOLD FARM ted at the | . » a head of t wt branch of Hepe Rive wadyo ung | H. B. \ Al A. the farm of Mr. Alexander Simpson, Hope River | Troy eR 1s. 152 Granvi et. Milla, cousisting of 120 acres of Land, 3S” acres « ut | Halit Nova Scotia, Sept. 9, 1862 whieh are cleared and in a high state of vation, | -— we and the remainder covered with a young vrowth of y ra 1a. woop There in ou the pPreldines a foc DWELL IN » i IC] de i ING HOUSE, a new BARN, 30 * 40 feet, and a | LL persons indebted to the undersigned wever failing «pring of water by Note of Hand or Book Account, at TIG For farthes particulars please apply on the pre-| NISH, ure hereby requested to make immediat Lilses Le ree f ie | pMky mnethit to his Attorney, Mr RosperrT Bevin CLEMEN r ot LLEN 1 bie | mmiuce of the Isian i will be received in pay- Hope Riga, Oct. 6, 1502. Isi iw pd | ment, at prices currentin Cascumpec. All amonnts | -— } unpaid on the 1ith Nov. next will be passed Into FOR SALE, other hands for collection . L | WM. B DEAN. TAI ABLE FREEHOLD FARM | Ch. Town. Sept 99 1862. tw in Brackley Peint, containing about & acres of _— ——-- oS a Land, 70 clear and im a high «tate of cultivation, the ™ ¢ ~rICE.

remainder covered with a fine growth of longer: There is an abundance ef Salt Mud and Sea Manure on the property, with a good Cottage, J) x 2b feet,

ved a Kitehen attached, 12 x 10 feet, weil finished, ! ind a good chain Pamp at the daw:, anda good Barn | 1s feet long, with or withoutthe Crop. For a sem mer s residence it i# second to none in the country Cenus—Oue-half the parchase money down ; the

remainder in twelve months Application to be peads to the subscriber, on the prenuses. JOSEPH MACKINNON. dane léth, 18 Sun

Rare Chance to obtain a FARM! YOR SALE, Brudene!l Point FARM,

couveniently sitauted one mile from George- town, containing 200 Acres of LAND, 32 of which are in a good state of cultivation, and the remainder well we There is a good Baru and House on the land and a good well of water. Any quantity of mnsele wad aud other manures can be procured on the premises. The Snbseriber will sell his in terest in the above farm very low if applied for iun- ine diately H é. RH¢ IDES.

Georgetown, Sept. 8, 1862. 2m

Freehold Property for Sale.

A VALUABLE FREEHOLD PRO- Lot N

PERTY for Sale iu Georgetown, viz: Town }}

A o. 5. Ind Range, Letter A, with Dwelling livuse and other out-Buildings, all in good order aud repair,—together with Household Furniture, Kitchen Utensila, &c. &e. The above Property is situated in Water-street, a the Store of Mr. L. J. Westaway, and will be offered for sale on the lat day of Novemnenr next, if not previously dis posed of by private sale.

All persons having any claims against the eub scriber will come and have them settled; and all persons indebted to the aulscriber will please settle

—— JOMANNA GRIFFIN. Georgetown, Sept. 22, 1862, 4in “a > = — :

KrOR SALE!

0 ACRES of FREEHOLD LAND 20 on Lot 49, twelve miles from Southport, and thrice miles from Mr. Adams’ Post itive, V ernen River. and convenient to Grist and Saw Mills

The above property is well covered with Hard aud Soft Wood. For further particulars epply to

1 subseriber “hn PATRICK CARROLL. Maple Hill, Lot 49, Sept. 22, 1862. W. DOUGAN H* removed to the Shop lately occu-

pied by W.W. Irving, Esq , Queen Square Ch. Town, Oct. 6, 1862.

post OFFICE NOTICE. rus public are requested to take notice

that on and after the Lat SEPTEMBERa ext, all Letters and Paekets posted in any Post Officein this Island, and addressed for delivery in the Pro- vinee of NOVA SCOTIA, Must BE PREPAID bY

i, Flour, Tea, Leather, &c.

chaans of Appletree |}

' pte UNDERSIGNED have this

VAUA

Sramer ; " : Letters posted unpaid, or partially prepaid, will | he forwarded to thetr destination, but will be sub ject, on delivery, toa fine of Five Cents, addition to the Postage due thereon. : L.. C. GWEN, Postmaster General. General Post Office, 15th Angust, 1562.

}

GLENFINLAS CLOTH MILLS. pple subscriber thanks his numerous)

enstomers for their liberal sappert, and would | inform them and the public generally that he is} prepared to j Pull, Dye and Dress Cioth,| with every dispatch consistent with god workman. | ship, and therefore expects a large increase of | patronage. “i AGENTS. |

Meesrs. Beer & Sone, { - Charlottetown. |

G. T. Usaecard & Co. Mr. Solomon Mutch. ......Seuth port James Robertson......St. Peter's Road } Edwin Coftfin....- c.- Mount Stewart Bridge. « WPutrick Griffin.......- St. Andrew's William Sterus......- St. Peter'e '

« John Knight..... dine and ‘ : Mesers. McAuley & Johnston..Grand River Wharf. | Mr. William Menderson..,. Rollo Bay. : ket

Alexander MeVean. .. West Reese East Point. Patrick Kavanagh. .,..Kaet Point . 7 we “JOHN DIXON. |

Gieufiuias, Sept. ~2, 1662 ow i

resh Arrivals.

pu hy subscriber has received, per recent

wt hds. chok retaiin Molasses l le Muscavado Sugar i) bt } ‘ » enor, Extra, State ar 1 Saperth

Mt Navy | {

> mn } } ( } lv Ni (AT

0 cus 3 »gubions each (4

lo Arnve, and hourly expected

| 10 hhde. Molasses | ” a < hoice Groes re" Sugar

10 bbis. Flour

es of Sole Leather All of which, towether with Stock of

Teas, Tobacco, Cigars, Boots, Shoes, &c. &e.

ARB OFFERED AT VERY LOW PRICES. J. S. CARVELL

Ml anh

se aes ad i | STOVES! STOVES! | J! IST RECELV ED, by schooner Crornta

from ALBANY direct, a large | Stoves

nseortinent of

of various Patterns, i among which are the | Viawend COOK STOVES, for burning ; ‘or sale by DODD & ROGERS,

At Dodd's Brick Store, Pownal Street | October 20, 1si 1i

For Sale by the Subscriber

ayn LOW FOR CASH.

100 Bbis. § fine Pusiry do

' ayy - ‘ae 150 | 0 @ 2 chests superior TEA sides New Y k Sole Leathef

Is eran) 20 Wuintals Codfish

ork Sole Leather Califormmia Hides

M. LOWDEN, Peake's Buildings Queen-street,June 9, 182

we! NOW LANDING,

[100 BBS. Four,

| 100 Boxee CANDLES 200 Boxes LOZENGES J. & T. MORRIS S ¢ hea ‘ : ’

| o-Partnership Notice.

CO PARTNERSHIP as

;

IN

*“\._ British, French & other Foreign

wr the |

t me | } '

DRY GOODS,

Under the Style and Firm of

WUOLESALE and RETAIL.

LL persons indebted to the undersigned

by Note of Hand or Book Account, at CAMP BELTON, are hereby immediate payment to Mr. Anpkew Bec.

All articles usually received at this place in pay- ment of debts will be received at prices current in Cascumpee. Any amounts remaining unpaid after the 10th November next will be passed into other bands for collection

equested to make

WM. B. DEAN. Ch. Town, Sept. 29, 1862, Aw

NOTICE!

To Merchants and others. HE subseriber wil! hold an AUCTION

on the second THURSDAY in every month, or the disposal of any kind of Merchandize placed in his mot Goods to be sent to the AUCTION ROOM two days previous to sale. Proceeds will be handed over without delay NEILL RANKIN, Auctioneer. Queen-street, March 31, 1862.

ath NOTICE. HE Subscriber, baving opened an EX-

CHANGE OFFICE in Water-street, next door to the Terrace House, for the purpose of BUYING and SELLING uncurrent Money, is pre- vared to cash TREASURY WARRANTS drawn in favor of School Teachers, &o.

J. -. Daler.

I RW im

The London and Liverpool FIRE AND LIFE

INSURANCE COMPANY.

Capital, Two Millions Sterling. ue Subscriber having been appointed

from England the Agent of this Jong cstab- lished and well known Company, ranking amongst the first in Britain, is prepared to accept proposals und take risks for insarauce on all descriptions of

property. : W. A. JOMNSTONE, Agent. April 7th 1862.

Queen Insurance Company OF LIVERPOOL.

FIRE AND LIFE! — pur Subseriber, having been appointed agent for tfie above first pp pee om ia pre d to take risks on eseriptions 0: property. Pies ey. 8. CARVELL. Charlottetown, Feb. 10. uf

[Extracts rrom Newsrarens.]

On reference to a return made to Parliament. and erdered by the House of Commons to be printed, 7th June, 1861, it will be seen that the increase of Dut for the year, id by the “ QUEEN,” was £2567, being upwards of £1000 more than. paid by any other office ever yet established in this City.

[From Gore's General Advertiser, Oct. 24, 1861.]

« Indeed, we believe that we are perfectly justi- fied in saying that no ether Company, within the sare period, ever attained ao large an income In either the Fire or Life Departments as the Queen Jusurance Company. In making this statement,we make po exception even in favor of our older local companies, namely, the Liverpool and London, the Royal, and the Lancashire Insurance Companies.

|Prom the Civil Service Gazette, Nov. 2. 1361.)

“ Among these important institutions etands emi nent for its solidity, as well as for its success, “the Queen Insurance Company,” which last week held its annual meeting of proprietors in Liverpool. A reference to the alnple report in another page will fully satisfy every reader of the signal progress made by this association since its foundation. Such success is, indeed, rarely attamned ; and it attests at onee the excellence of jts management, and the pub lic confidence tu its quetitation.”’

{From the Liverpool Mercury, Nov. 2, 1861.]

“Tt must be gratifying to the public generally, and especially to the proprietors, to find that its jm Couns Roce ‘the pust three years hiaass increased at the rate of £20,000 per annum. We believe that no other Company, within the same short perigd, ever attained so Jarge an increasecither in the Fire or Life Department. This speaks highly for the activity and zeu| of the management, while the prompting ss with which all the clans, arising out of the late disastrous fire in London were met, tes tifies to their financia! ability and the eare and pre deuce Whica warked the iavestuncut of these funda.’

'

celebrated Magician and Black

Bbis. Extra State Flour,

day

BROTITERN,

LITERATURE.

'daintily bound annual, and committed my | re-awakened my interest in the diversion | might please me to do with the furniture |this valuable, ita utterer cannot refer | premeditated devastations upon the unlucky | which she planned. 1 was the eentre of ad-| that would be immediately forwarded. The | general Christian principles. He must su*

MATCH-MAKING; OR

MY AUNT'S STORY.

my aunt.

curse.

up with on air of satisfaction.

meddied in such affairs but once.’ ‘ And that was—’

seen. figure.

and a pure heart.

and diffienlt art.

ber with a tender worship.

in ite evident sincerity.

accorded the girls of my age.

her as she worked.

‘the latter and fancied 1 detected a blush on the cheek of my listener. 'and decided that the soft bloom was occa- sioned by the vicinity of the damask curtain, lso L went on still more zealously telling 'how good my frieud was to the poor; that jhe was tender as @ woman, yet so firm ; | bandsome, yet a little sad; manly and dig- i wified, yet infinitely winning.’

* One would almost suppose the good Dr. to be a lover of yours, Florence,’ said the lady, interrupting the flow of my eloquence.

‘Of mine! 1 exclaimed in amazement.

'* Why dear Miss Claron, he is double my jage, and beside, I am not half good enough for him. Neither is any one else except— except yourself,’ and my voice fell to a whis- per as I became conscious of the uvbecoming freedom | was taking.

‘Miss Claron did not, however, appear angry, and by way of showing ber how high a compliment I had intended to pay her, L related a host of anecdotes about the Dr. I recounted his devices to raise the spirits of his patients and entice them into the open air, and pictured his adroituess in rendering pecuniary assistauce so that the charity was never diseovered by the benefitted, until the time of trial bad gone by, and their falling fortunes had been retrieved. 1 dined and took tea with Miss Claron, and thencefor- ward I was a privileged visitor at all hours. When we were alone, she never failed to lead the conversation to Glencoe and its in- babitants; aud with equal certainty, when- ever I began I alighted upon the Dr. at last. I thought Miss Claron vastly kind to listen so patiently to my details, and more than ence I begged her pardon for their mivute- ness and number, but it appeared natural, nevertheless, that she should be interested in that which filled my beart 80 completely.

‘The season flew by and the time ap- proached when I was to return North. The morning of the day preceding my departure I spent with Miss Claron, aud emboldened by her caresses, [ asked, ‘ Dear friend, why did you never marry? you are surrounded by admirers; bow is it possible you have remained single so Jong ?”

‘Miss Claron started at the unexpcoted question, and an expression of pain crossed ber face, then she drew me close to her and said, ‘I should think my heart-history too simple to interest you were it not that you know so well the only man for whom I have felt any tenderness. 1 wus once betrothed to the Doctor to whom you are so much attached.’

++ What could have separated you?’ [ ex- claimed ; ‘ you seem made for each other.’

** My own folly, nothing elee,’ returned Mies Clarou. ‘1 was born on one of the finest estates on the banks of the James River. The grounds were extensive and under the most perfect cultivation. The house was large and picturesque. It was built of gray stone, and as my father had encouraged the growth of vines avd moss, which darkened the windows with their trailing drapery, it looked more ancient than it really was. Here were collected many specimens of art. Among them were copies of the best antique statues, and many fine pictures, while books, from the precious manuscripts of the old times to the latest record of travel, crowded every niche and stood io dense columns on the oaken shelves. There, a motherless child, I lived in profuse seclusion till my sixteenth year. My old purse still attended me, and though I bad a governess, my father despised the ordinary acquisitions of women s0 much, that he un- dertook my education himself, and when the care became burdensome, introduced a young man as wy preceptor. That man was Dr. Harding. L'was displeased at the proposed change, and resolyed to be as troublesome and stupid as posvible, and thus drive bim

the morning when he was to commence his \igstructions, determined to spend wy time ‘ip palling te pieces the white roses which starred the mass of green without, My fa- ‘ther entered with the preceptor.

| Harding, my daughter.’

‘TE don’t approve of match-making,' eaid

‘As no one can detect all the minuter shades of character or estimate the force of circumstances in modifying it, there is great danger of turning that which should be the greatest blessing into the deadliest No,’ and the speaker drew herself ‘I never

‘When I was a girl just let loose from school in the heyday of youth and gaiety. I then visited some relatives in one of the Southern States, and met one of the most attractive women | had then, or have since There was about her an indefinable charm, } do not know whether of face or Probably it belonged to both and was the emanation of a brilliant intellect Her voice was full and flexible, and thrilled the listener like a re- membered song. Her convereation, enriched with knowledge culled from the rarest sources and glowing with feeling and fancy, first taught me the beauty and power of that fine At first I looked upon | her with admiring awe, afterward I regarded She accepted {my little tribute of affection and generously overlooked the insignificance of the offering In society she la- vished upon me attentions which others sought in vain, and in the comparative pri- vacy of Our ordinary intercourse, she treated me with a degree of confidence quite unlike the carcless good nature which she usually At length, when making a morning cail upon her, ac- | companied by my friends, she took me into her dressing-room, that 1 might talk with For a few minutes I was fairly overwhelmed witb timidity, then ‘my bashfulness vanished and J told her —_—______—_-————— j about my teachers and school fellows, des- 'cribed the dear home and the dear parents, 'the merry brothers and sisters, and good | Dr. Frederick Harding, the best man in the a an ee 5 _| world except papa, and whom I really loved i, AMPORTERS & DEALERS | dearly though we quarfelled almost every | day. I happened to look up as 1 mentioned

I looked again

T rose and bowed, but did not look up, and sinking languidly| Amelia was on the wateh.

eourse I was to pursue, and then one topic suggested another, until the two gentlemen were in the midst of an animated literary conversation. My father had the most ‘learning, my preceptor the most fancy and the most skill im the use of words. As they talked, the volume of pretty nothings fell from my hands amidst a shower of rose leaves, and I ventured to look at the young man’s face; in an instant my resolutions were forgotten, There was power in bis ample forehead, there were fire, and tender- ness, and merriment in his full dark eyes. In the presence of such a man I could not play the simpleton, nor the boyden. I could neither be impudent nor sullen. Hour after hour passed by. In vain my father's sad- die-horse champed his bit aud pawed impa- tiantly at the gate; the dressing-bell rang, but no one heeded the summons ; and dinner found me delighted listener to the most brilliant conversation 1 bad ever beard. Mr. Harding was easily persuaded to accept rooms at our house, aud my education went rapidly on. My father, impatient to initiate me into his favorite studies, had pushed me forward too rapidly for the maturity of my mind, so that with the appearance of great progress I bad really learned little. Mr. Harding, more observant and more patient, sent me back to the elementary studies, and so thoroughly drilled me upon them that all alter effurt was easy. My ambition was aroused. Jo converse upon equal terms with such men as my preceptor was the point at which I aimed. Gradually, as my mind developed and my taste became culti- vated, the relation of master aud pupil be- came merged in that of friend. A few re- citations were continued, but comparatively little of our time was given to text books. History, biography, poetry, the classic au- thors of our own and foreign languages, spread around us a world fur richer and more glowing than the material one, which yet glowed with a beauty not often surpass- ed. At first Mr. Harding brought forward his own ample stores of fancy and intellect only, but as | grew more confident, be led me to exercise my own talents, to collect, compare, criticise and comment. He en- couraged the wildest flights of my imagina- tion, and then subjected them to a careful j analysis, and separated with a delicate but unsparing hand the spiritaal from the fan- tastic. In every way he strove to make my | perceptions keen and vigorous, and to give to my mind a robust and healthful growth. | Still more unwearied was he in his efforts to

evelope every noble trait of character and in assisting me to form habits of steady be-

vortex. and unfrequent.

restoring me to freedom. He would not,

to renow ties which were evidently irksome.

clearly the sacrifice I had made to secure a momentary pleasure. ali, yet I dared not trust myself. ‘Alas!’ better doubtless as it is.’ Where Mr. Hard- ing had gone, [ could not discover, and I re- turned with redoubled weariness to my ao- customed round. Tho following spring I received intelligence of my father's death abroad. I was completely overwhelmed. I had looked forward to his return with in- tense eagerness, for until this unfortunate journey we had seldom been separated even fora day. A long, long illness followed, and when I recovered | dismissed my cousin, reduced my establishment, and endeavored to drown the reproaches of conscience in se- vere and unremitted study. I failed eig- nally. The effort impaired my health, and my pbysician imperatively commended change of ecene. 1 placed some poor rela- tives in charge of my paternal home, and came here to grow old among strangers.’

‘The day after I listened to the narra- tive, I left for the North, with my head ful! of a little plan for the re-uniou of my friends, which I resolved to put in execution as soon as possible. I commenced the very day of my arrival. Miss Claron had given me a brooch which had been a favorite with her before she discarded ornaments. It was a cameo cutting of the head ef Plato, and was the work of amaster, ‘The broad, thought- |ful brow; the sof: curve of the quiet eye;

his deep and hope ‘ul philosophy—were all there; and this beautiful presentment of the greatest and best of heathen teachers had al- ready led me to attempt the s:udy of his works. It was far too choice in my eyes for ordinary wear, but on the evening of my ro- turn I fastened it to my cape, and then laid out on the parlour table the various gifts which L had received from my southern friends. The Doctor called as I had ex- pected, and I exerted myself to the utmost to interest him in the people whom I had

j uevclence and active charity, I had never j had a brother, and I supposed the regard L} ‘felt for him was pure sisterly affection. My | father insisted upon his joining us in our | walks and drives, and the care of me natur- ally devolved upou him, It seemed his place to lift me to the saddle, to hand me to! the carriage, to seat me in the skiff. It) was only courtesy to gather for me the fair-| est flowers and ripest fruit. How could 1} dream tbat it was love which made the courtesy aud the blossoms both so sweet ?

‘* Amidst our happiness my father was summoned to Europe, and to relieve the te- dium which his absence would occasion, he invited to our house a cousin,named Amelia, whom I had never seen. As Mr. Harding could not with propriety remain with us during my father’s stay abroad, he removed to an adjoining village, aod I was thus thrown entirely under her influence. She was an elegant looking girl, polished in manner, and thoroughly versed in the ways of the world. I did not love her, but I yielded to her. My readings with Mr. Harding, regular at first, were at length in- terrupted, my poor pensioners received my little bounty through other hands, and the homes of poverty and suffering were almost forgotten.

* * Occasionally, roused to a sense of my wrong doing, I went the rounds of my humble friends, but my heart was not in the task, and quickly wearied of it. This was what Amelia desired. She loved Mr. Hard- ing and intended to win him from me. She attracted company to the house and com- pelled me to receive, not only polished wo- men and educated men, but idlers, also, who would never have presumed to intrude upou my father. At first I was indigoant, but flattery is welcome to the ear of youth, and I was dazzled by a life so varied and so new. By every art Amelia awoke my incipient vanity, then, when she seemed most anxious that I should captivate all hearts, and had persuaded me to a boating excursion, a pic- nic, or a drive with aome attractive cavalier, she stole away to my cattagers and ostenta- tiously performed the duties she had induced me to neglect. Mr. Harding seldom came to the house, and when he did, Amelia con- trived to keep us apart. Sometimes she ac- counted for my non-appearance by hinting that L was absorbed in a arore favored friend, sometimes by asserting that I found an hour of rational conversation too tedious for en- durance. So the winter passed away, and the summer was in ite prime. I had been hurried from one gaiety to another, and in- toxicated with the glitter of society, I had scarcely given a moment to serious thought. One day, it seems as if it were only yester- day, 1 suddenly entered the library and discovered Amelia in my own study chair, with Mr. Harding beside her. The latter rose, and said, gravely, ‘May I see you alone, Miss Claron? I have frequently sought the privilege, but it has been con- stantly denied me. The day is fine,’ he con- tinued, ‘ let us walk to the Oak-glen.’

* *T assented gladly, and we were soon on our way. Ah! how I wished that we had never been separated, that Amelia had never come! We talked for a while upon indif- ferent subjects, then we began to contrast ‘the present with the past. How gently Mr. | Barding remonstrated with me on the eourse

| that 1 was pursuing. how clearly he pointed

|

met, and the events which had occurred during my absence. In the course of the conversation I exhibited my souvenirs. There were choice engravings, illustrated books, pressed flowers, and mosses from the shrines of eastern travel, with many trifles for personal adornment, in which the Doctor took a genuine interest, even down to the embroidered kerchiefs, whose light tracery of vines and blossoms he cxamined with amusing gravity. ‘ But, after all,’ I said, wheo the last toy had been laid aside, ‘ this is my most valuable as well as beautiful me- mento,’ aud 1 took the brooch from my cape. The doctor started and grew pale. ‘ Who gave you this?’ he asked in a yoice which, unconsciously to himself, was sur- charged with feeling.’

‘*Miss Virginia Claron,’ I answered as innocently as | was able. * You ought to know her, doctor,’ and then I sketched her as she appeared to me, touching lightly upon her external attractions, still more lightly upon the admiration which she excited, and dwelled at length upon the perfection of her womanhood.’

‘| saw notbing of the doctor for two days, a circumstance that by no means surprised me. I did not doubt that I had re-awaken- ed memories which he had long ago taught to slumber, and yearnings which he had jea- lously repressed. Neither did I doubt that he was trying to decide whether he would again erush with iron will the love which had so unexpectedly re-asserted its power, or whether he would apply all the resources of his manhood to realize the bright dream of his youth. But two days seemed a long time to me, and | ran over to Maplegrove, ostensibly to ascertain if the garden was really so much wore thrifty than mine as its owner pretended, for we were rivals in the charwiog art of horticulture, and quarrelied with and aided each other most assiduously from March to November. I found the doctor at home, and we walked up and down the gravel paths in our old fashion, until, finding a mowent when his back was toward me, [ unfastened the cameo, which I had worn for the purpose, and quietly slipped it into » bunch of tulips. As soon a8 we were a proper distance from the bed, 1 mentioned my loss, aud an opening having thus been effected | again pictured my friend with as much warmth of appreciation ag the moet ardent lover could desire. 1 did not fear for the safety of my brooch, for the garden gates wero always locked, and | intended that it should remain in its flowery bed un- til I should sse signs of an approaching storm. But the doctor could not rest. Every moment that he could spare from his duties he devoted to the search, and the fol- lowing morning be restored the ornament en- closed in one of the finest of jewel cases, set with pearls.

* September came, the oool, delicious Sep- tember, and the Dr. announced bie intention of travelling for a week or two. The sum- mer, he said, had been unusually oppreeaive, his patients numerous—io short he needed recreation. Perhaps he did, though in truth I had never seen him so full of innocent merriment, The fortnight appointed for his absence flew by, four, five, six weeks also, yet no tidings were received of him. Peo- ple grew uneasy and fell ill, it appeared to me, through pure fear of duingso. Notbing else was spoken of in the villago, | had

‘out the misery it would entail oy me, how |

away. I took my seat near a window on timents, which it would occasion. [ wept bearing the well-known post mark.

freely, and when we left the glea we were

felt sure of wy friend’s destination from the

The

,outer one was in the Dr.’s massive chi-

he said, ask for a parting interview lest the remembrances of the past should prompt me

That letter brought me to my semees. I eaw I longed to confess

I said, ‘I am so weak, so frivolons, it is

the sweet serene :uouth, reminding one of

blossoms. My father explained clearly what} miration, and I allowed myself, despite my | letters had been delayed on the way, and better judgment, and despite the restless un- easiness which [I felt, to be drawn inte the Mr. Harding's visits became brief As [ was no longer at ease with him, I scarcely regretted it, and though I made many resolutions of amend- ment, they were vague and ill kept. Amidst this wretehed vascillation I received from him a letter full of tenderness, mdeed, but

the next morning there came velvet carpets, embroidered muslins and rich brocades, rose- wood and marble in the prettiest shapes, ser- vers, porcelian, and antique silver, beside great quantities of glossy linen, heavy blan- kets, and countless etceteras to facilitate domestic operations. Prouder and more de- lighted I could not have been had everything belonged to me, and ne bee was ever more busy than I during the week that followed. Its close brought the time fixed for the ar- rival of the wedded pair. A dozen times I surveyed the toilette service of the bride, and retouched the superb bouquets which had been sent from miles around. Why don’t they come ? I asked myself onco and again : but when the twilight deepened, and the lighted Jamps sent their glow through wreath and vase, and flashed over the mir- rors, which reflected all my leafy glorics, I was entirely content. By and by there was a tramping of horses on the earriage path. A tall, elegant man half lifted a lady from the carriage. <A burst of olear glad laugh- ter, ® warm caress, the cordial grasp and cordial greeting of the Dr., and then Virgi- nia Clarou Harding was instailed the wor- shipped mistress of Maplogrove.’

MISCELLANEOUS,

Oar

POLITICAL SERMONS.

The clever article that follows is extracted from a London periodical ; but its applica- tion touches all localities.

The clergy often seem to us unreasonably blamed, and more is asked of them than they can give. People complain that their dis- courses are all in the clouds—that they abound in generalitiee—that they repeat phrases awful in themselves, but wearisome from frequent use. We ask them to come down to the earth, to kiss it, and gain strength from the embrace—to address them- selves to our real wants—to speak of real vices and sins—to answer and sympathize with real honest doubts, and not to foist on us the inanities of the idiotic mock skeptic of the pulpit. Lut let ussuppose that a clergy- man is willing to follow this advice, and sets himself to grant our prayer. He thinks what practical application of his great truths he can make. How is he to find a special illustration of whathe means? It is scaree- ly to be wished he should preach at indivi- duals. He cannot decently illustrate the history of the Prodigal Son by unmistake- | able allusions to @ notorious scapegrace in | the squire’s family, nor can he in so many | words bid tie doctor's wife go and sin no jmore. Nor is it’easy to attack the habits | of classes which he may think call for censure ‘unless these habits are avowedly sinful, in which case no one will plead guilty to them. If he only disapproves of what society con- siders innocent, he must be either very vague or desceud to details which are of a very paltry kind, and as to which much debate is possible, A general denunciation of a love for dress comes to nothing. Every woman tries to persuade herself that she only dresses as becomes her station. ‘To be impressive, a clergyman would bave to say exactly what he meant. He must describe the ar- ticles and fashions of dress to which he ob- jects; and this he cannot do if he wishes his congregation not to laugh.

A man who sees this, aud who honestly

wishes to give his discourse a practical ap-

plication, may very naturally turu with great

satisfaction to the field of general politics.

Of course he does not trouble himself with | small matters. They would present tho very

same difficulties which small or local topics would present. A man can scarcely take a

passage from the Gospels as his text, and

proceed to argue from it either for or against

the registration of land. ut politics al-

ways presents an abundance of genera! topics

which may be easily treated as matters of principle, avd which yet have an interest

sufficiently immediate to make any discussion

of them eeem practical. The preacher, for

example, seizes on some such topic as the

civil war in America, or on our treatment of the Chinese ; and if ke hae a strong opinion

either way, he can pvt it into the language

of religious dogmatism with the greatest fa-

cility. If we adopt tae theory of sermons being good according as they embody an

application of good truths to points of tem- porary interest, we cannot soe that the preacher could do much better.

What, then, is the objection to these po- litical sermone? We do not pretend to ob- ject to them very strongly, for if the preach- er ia an educated and a moderately cautious man, they are rarely offensive, aud they are certainly much more entertaining than ordinary discourses. At the worst, it is only like bearing some one read out a seoond- rate pewspaper; and we generally gain a sense of the existence of great priuciples at the bottom of things, although we may dis- sent from the particular application. Al- though we may, for instance, differ from the preacher in our views as to Auierica or Uhina