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VOL. AXVIHI

aw i -

the Gxraniner

{s Printed and Pcblished every Monday Porenoon, BY

William iu. Cotton,

OFFICE:

Ace 9 ; es Corner Queen and King Streets.

TERMS—Per Annum, Postage prepaid by Pablisher, $1.40 in advance: $1.62 if paid 4 sin the year; $2.00 if not paid within q.e ye ar.

CLUB RATES:

TH EXAMINER will be forwarded to Clabs tie i NioOWing rates per year— sayment strictly In advance :— eopies, one address, - - - - - $ 6.00

} -_* es 10.00 } eese° 16.00 20 “ es a ee ee 18.00

Clubs may be made up atany time, but

not for a shorter pel iod than a year,

RATES of ADVERTISING

MVIE following are the Rates and Terms I of Advertising as agreed to by the pub- lishers of newspapers in I’. KE. Island :—50 ceuts per inch for first insertion, and 20 cents for each continuation. Ten per cent discount from this rate will be made on all for 3 months;

2 30

Advertisements continued if continued for 6 months;

20 per cent. and 40

per cent if continued for & months: per cent if continued for 12 month.

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“oo gtloe cel

PO RUNOR’

(O'R

Ww Zim ¢

tort

All advertisements exceeding 12 inches will be subject to a discount of 10 per cent. additional, if continued for one year.

Auctioneers will be allowed 10 per cent. discount when they advertise to the amount of $30 per year; 15 per cent when to the amount of $45; and 20 per cent when to the amount of $60 per annum, and not other- wise.

The sum of 12 cents per line will be charged for each inserticn of all ** Special Notices:” and 25 cents for notices in edi- torial or news columns.

The sum of 50 cents will be charged for the insertion of all Marriage and Birth no-

tices.

ALMANAC FOR AUGUST, 1876

MOON'S CHANGES. Full Moon, 5th day, 2h. 25m., a. m., S. W. Last Quarter, 12th day, Sh. 46m. p. m., N.., below horison. New Moon, 19 day, 8h. 13m., a. m., S. E. First Quarter, 26th day, 2h. 5m., p.m., S. E.

Ne SUN MOON HIGH DAY’s es. ; rises |water len’th } rise | sets j Ht MH MA M . 2, Tuesday 4 47/7 25,5 48 7 4514 38 é Wedno sd y 40 21,6 3) oS 42) 35 3 Thursday | 50) 23.7 3 9 30 3 4 Friday 51; 21,7 2810 9 30 5 Saturday 53| 20 7 48:10 47} 27 6 Sunday 54, 18| 8 Fi 34 24 7\Monday | 55] 17| 8 22/11 52) 22 8 Tuesday {| 56 15, 8 S87iA 22) 19 9, Wedn’sd’y; 57; 14,8 52.0 53 17 lo/Thursday | 58) 12.9 9 1 26) 14 11| Friday o- -T119 S112 10 11 i2/ Saturday l 9 9 57; 2 49 8 13' Sunday 2 810 36 3 50) 6 14 Monday 3 Gil 32,5 20; 3 15\Tuesday ;| 4| 4M 2. 0 16, Wedn’s’dy 5 2,0 42; 8 3213 57 17: Thursday 7| Zit? 24 54 18 Friday ;} 8 O| 3 86) 10 22) 52 19 Saturday | 10668 5 3 11 4) 48 20 Sunday 11} 56 6 24 11 35) 45 21 Monday 12} 54,7 43\M 42 2» Tuesday 14; 53|8 69,0 4% 32 23)Wean'’sd’y; 15) 5110 11) 2 39) 36 24; Thursday 16, 4911 20; 1 15 33 25) Friday 17) 47|A 87) 1 54 30 26 Saturday 18; 45) 1 45, 2 40) 27 27| Sunday | 19) 43:2 4913 3 *24 28 Monday 21 42|' 3 39\' 4 4) 21 2iTuesday | 22) 40:4 29 6 1 18 30;Wedn'sd’y; 23, 48) 4 53,7 15 15 463615 3118 13:13 12

31\Thursday 4 2 PRICES CURRENT.

99

~<*»

Yh'town, August 1876. BREADSTUFFS. Buckwheat Flour, per lb Flour, per bbl Flour, per 100 lbs Oatmeal, per 100 Ibs FISH.

0.03 to 0.34 5.50 to 7.00 j 3.00 to 3.25 3.50 to 4.00

3.50 to 5.00 4.87 to 6.49 0.48 to 0.72

Codfish per qtl

Herring per bbl

Mackerel per doz.

BOARDS.

Hemlock, 100 feet.

Pine do

Spruce do

Shingles, per M. POULTRY.

Chickens, per pair

Ducks, (each)

Fowls, (eax h)

Partridges, (each)

Turkeys, (each)

Geese (each)

0.81 to 0.94 1.62 to 2.40 0.97 to 1.30 1.50 to 1.75

$0.40 to 0.60 0.25 to 0.30 0.25 to 0.35 0.00 to 0.00 0 80 to 1.75 6.00 to 0.00

MEAT.

Beef, (small pieces) per Ib Beef, per Ib (by the quarter) Ham, per Ib

Lamb, per quarter

Lamb, per !b

Mutton, per Ib

Pork ,(smali pieces) per ip Pork, per Ib (by the carcass) Veal, per Ib

$0.08 to 0.16 0.06 to 0.10 0.10 to 0.12 0.00 to 0.00 0.06 to 0.10

0.06 to 0.11 0.08 to 0.12 0.00 to 0.00 0.03 to 0.08

MISCELLANEOUS.

Apples per bushel

Barley per bushel

Batter (fresh) per Ib

Batter per Ib by the tub

Calfskins, per lb,

Cheese (new milk) per lb

Cheese, per Ib

Clover seed, per lb

Eggs, per doz.

Green Peas,

Hay, per ton

Hides. per lb. 0.04 to 0.44

Honey, per lb. 9,25 to 0.32 fomespun, (men’s wear)per yd. 0.65 te 1.00

Homespun, (women’s do)per yd 0.35 to 0°48 fomespun Flannel, per yard

Lard, per Ib

Oats, per bushe.

Potatoes, per bushel

Pear| Barley, per Ib

Sheepskins

Straw, per ton imotby Seed, per bush,

per It

0.00 to 0.00 0.00 to 0.75 0.18 to 0.24 0.16 to 0.17 0.06 to 0.10 0.14 to 0.16 0.05 to 0.08 0.00 to 0.00 0.11 to 0.16 0.08 to 0.12 7.00 to 9.00

0.51 to 0.46 0.12 to0.1G 0.50 to 0.60 0.25 to 0.30 0.03 to 0.04 0.30 to 0.40 2.50 to 3.00 0.00 to 0.00 9.07 to 0.10

Termine “nips, per bush. 0.00 to 0.00

HE. KHXAMINE

EP.

CHARLOLTETOWN, PRINCE EDWARD ISL

_ BUSINESS CARDS.

P POETRY.

COOMBS & WORTH,

JOB PRINTERS & BOOKBINDERS

51 WATER STREED, Charlottetown, - - - P, &. Island. Jan.17°76 ly E. C. NELSON,

IMPORTER & REPAIRER

SEWING MACHINES.

AppREss :-—VP. O. Box 303, Charlottetown. Oct. 25, 1875.—ly

MackENZIE & STUMBLES, Anctionesrs, Commission Merchants,

AND GENERAL AGENTS, 77 North Side Queen Square, Charlottetown, - - P. E. Island.

October 18, 1875.—ly

WILLIAM DODD,

Commission Merchant and AUCTIONEER QUEEN SQUARE, CHARLOTTETOWN, P. E. ISLAND. CARVELL BROS., AUSTIONEERS.

Commission Merchants,

AND GENERAL AGENTS. Lower Queen St. Charlottetown, P. ¥. 1. HASZARD BROS.,

Commission Merchants & Auctioneers, FORWARDING, MAN UFACURERS,

AND

General Agents, Gl WATER STREET, Opposite Merchants Bank,

Charlottetown, - - - - PBE-1

J. E. Haszarp, | Horace Haszarp. —__ 0°

REFERENCES:

Messrs. Greenshields, Son & Co., Montreal,

Messrs. W. & R. Brodie, Quebec,

Messrs. J. S. Farlow & Co., Boston,

Henry Lawson, Esq., Halifax, N. 5S.

Hon. Daniel Davies, Charlottetown, P. E. I.

May 3, 1875.

REVERE HOUSE,

ADJOINING THE POST OFFICE,

MAGI, ~~ - - & Bs

The subscriber has fitted up the above House in good style, and wishes to inform his friends, and the public gene- rally that he is prepared to accommodate

Trausiext and Permanent Boarders.

Good Stabling on

Charges moderate. the premises. RICHARD GLADNEY,

Proprietor. Alberton, Sept. 13, 1875.

INTERNATIONAL!

STREET,

CENTRAL Summerside, P.E. Island, JOHN MCKAY, PROPRIETOR.

YHIS HOUSE, second to none on the Is- land for beauty of situation, comfort and convenience afforded, commends itself to the patronage of all who may visit the Island for business or pleasure. Choice Sample Rooms to let. Conveyances from Cars and Boats. Ladies and Gentlemen will find it to their advautage to patronize this Hotel. Feb. 21, 1876.—tf

_ INSURANCE. ST. LAWRENCE Viarine Insurance Co.

OF

PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND.

BOARD OF DIRECTORS:

A. KENNEDY, EsqQ., President.

Joun F. RoBERTSON,

ARTEMAS LORD,

THomMas Morris,

GrorGeE D. LONGWORTH.

P. W. IHynpMAN,

W. D. STeEwWaRrT. Risks taken daily at their office, Exchange Building.

FRED. W. HYNDMAN, Ch’town, April 24,1876.—ly Secrelary

MM AFIIN

INSURANCE COMPANY

PRINCE EDWAED ISLAND.

BOARD OF DIRECTORS:

Ronernt LonGworth, Esq., President,

lion. Jas. DUNCAN,

Hon. L. C. OWEN,

Ilion. A. A. MCDONALD,

Hon, J. C- Porn,

Tuomas HANDRAHAN, Esq.,

GEORGE R. Beer, Esq. Risks taken daily at their office, corner Great George and Lower Water Streets.

F. W. HALES, Secrretay.

Ch’town, March 22, 1875—ly

THE LIVERPOOL & LONDON AND CLOBE

[ASURANGE COMPANY

Fire anp LIFE.

Invested Funds, Ist Jan’y., 1874, $21,628,356 Deposited with Receiver Gener-

al of Canada, 162,800 Other Investments in Dominion of Canada, * 367,091

FAIR RATES. Prompt & Liberal Settlements.

Insurance against Fire effected upon Pri- vate Residences, Household Farniture and Farm Properties, for

One, Three or more years, At Reduced Rates,

Oflice—Great George Street, Charlotte-

town, P. E. I. it. R. FITZGERALD, Agent

A FORSAKEN GARDEN. In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland, At the sea-down’s edge between windward and lee, Walled round with island, The ghost of a garden fronts the sea. A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses The steep square slope of the blossomless bed Where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses Now lie dead.

rocks as an inland

The flelds fall broken, To the low last ed: re of the long lone land. If a step shouid sound ora word be spoken, Would a ghost not rise at the strange guest's hand? So long have the grey bare walls lain guest- less, Through branches and briars if a man make way. He shall find no lifé but the sea-wind’s, restless Night and day.

southward, abrupt and

The dense hard passage {s blind and stifled That crawls by a track none turn to climb To the straight waste place that the years have rifled Of all but the thorns that are touched not of time. The thorn he spares when the rose is taken; The rocks are left when he wastes the plain. The wind that wanders, the weeds wind- shaken, These remain,

Not a flower to be prest of the foot that falls not; As the heart of a dead man the seed- plots are dry; From the thicket of thorns whence the nightingale calls not, Could - call, there were never arose to reply. Over the meadows that blossom and wither Rings but the note of a sea-bird’s song; Only the sun and the rain come hither All year long.

The sun burns sere and the rain dishevels

One gaunt, bleak blossom of scentless breath.

Only the wind here hovers and revels

In a round where life seems barren as

death. Here there was laughing of old, there was weeping,

Haply of lovers none ever will know. Whose eyes went seaward a hundred sleep- ing

Years ago.

Heart handfast in heart as they stood, ‘ Look thither,’

Did he whisper? ‘Look forth from the flowers to the sea,

For the foam-flowers endure when the rose- blossoms wither,

And men that love lightly may die—but we?’

And the same winds sang and the same waves whitened,

And forever the garden’s last petals were shed,

In the lips that had whispered, the eyes

that had lightened,

Love was dead.

Or they loved their life through, and then went whither?

And were one to the end—bult what end who knows?

Love deep as the sea as arose must wither,

As the rose-red seaweed that mocks the

rose. Shall the dead take thought for the dead to love them? What love was ever as deep as a grave? They are loveless now as the grass above them Or the wave.

All are at one now, roses and lovers,

Not known of the cliffs and the fields and the sea.

Not a breath of the time that has been hovers

In the air now soft with a summer to be.

Not a breath shall there sweeten the sea- sons hereafter

Of the flowers or tlie lovers that laugh now or weep,

When as they that are free now of weeping

and laughter

We shall sleep.

Here death may deal not again forever;

Here change may come not till all change end.

From the graves they have made they shal! rise up never,

Who have left nought living to’ ravage and rend,

Earth, stones, and thorns of the wild ground growing,

While the sun and the rain live, these sirall be;

Till a last wind’s breath upon all these

blowing

Roll the sea.

Till the slow sea rise and the sheer cliff

crumble, Till terrace and meadow the deep gulfs drink,

Till the strength of the waves of the high tides humble

The fields that lessen, the rocks that shrink,

Here now in his triumph where all things falter,

Stretched out on the spoils that his own hand spread,

As a god self-siain on his own strange altar,

Death lies dead.

A. C. Swinburne, in London Alheneum.

LITERATURE.

NNN RIN NIN Ne NR rrr

WENDERHOLME.

CHAPTER VII[.—Continued.

How good the child had been! How brutally Ogden had felt that be had used him! Little Jacob had been as forgiving as a dog, and as ready to respond to the slightest mark of kindness. He He had been the light of the lonely house with his innocent prattle and gaiety. Og- den had frightened him into silence, and driven him into the kitchen, where he had many a time heard him laughing with old Sarah and Jim, and been unreasonably angry with him for it. Ogden began to see these things ina different light. ‘1 used him so badly,’ he thought, ‘that it was Only natural he should shun and avoid me.’ And then he felt and knew how much sweet and pure companionship he had missed. He had not half enjoyed the blessing he had possessed. He ought to have made himself young again for the child’s sake. Would it have done him any harm to teach little Jacob cricket, and play at ball with him, or at nine pins? The boy’s life had been terrible lonely, and his father had done nothing to dissipate or mitigate itd loneliness. And then he felt a bitter sense that he had really loved the child with an immense affection, but that the coldness and roughness and brutality of his outward behavior had hidden this affection from his son. In this, however, Mr. Ogden had not been quite so much to blame as in the agony of his repentance he himgelf believed. His self-accusation, like all sincere and genuine self.accusation, had a touch of exaggeration in it. The wrong that he had done was attributable quite as much to the temper of the place he lived in as to any peculiar evil in himself as an individual man. He had spoiled himself with drinking, but every male in Shayton did the same; he had been externally hard and unsympathetic, but the inhabitants of

a -

>.

Pa

AND, MONDAY, AUGUST 28, 1976.

Shayton carried to an excess the English contempt for the betrayal of the softer emotions. In all that Ogden had done, in the whole tenor of his life and conversation he had merely obeyed the great human in- stinct of coaformity. The majority of men are so constituted that they naturally take the colour of the society about them, and are scarcely answerable as individuals for the conduct they learn tromit. They can not originate a life other than the life they see and mix with, Philosophers my give a higher ideal in books,and the local clergy~ man, who has the advantage of "being viss ible in the flesh, may preach a holier and a betier way, but a man’s law is the custom of his class. A few eccentrics may venture to depart from this and to be disloyal to custom, that they may be loyal to the in- ward law of conscience,or the doctrines that were preached in Galilee; but it is found in practice that these eccentrics cannot continue to live in the locality whose cus- toms they rebel aga‘nst, and that sooner or later they bave.to leave it. The only pos. sible salvation for a Shaytonite was a love of money intense enough to produce a Cer- tain form of a:sociatism, Jacob Ogden had this, and was saved by it—at least from the danger of but Isaac, though he valued his pecuniary indepens dence, had not the passionate desire for wealth which requires a certain strength of imagination, ‘Therefore the slough of drink had been inevitable for him as a Shayionite, for the only motives which can induce a Shaytonite from drinking are the conviction that it would interfere with the accumulation of money and a love of money stronger than the love of gin. Had he lived anywhere else—had he even lived at Sootyhorn—he would have been a different man. Such as he was, he was the product of the soil, like the hard pear or sour apple that grew in the dismal garden at Milend, He had been sitting on the bed for more than an hour, when he heard a knock at the door, It was old Sarah who announced thearrival of Mr. Prigley and Mrs. Ogden. Mr. Prigley had been to fetch her from the place where she had been visiting, and en deavored to offer such comfort to her dur- ing the journey as his heart and profession suggested. As on their arrival at Milend there had been no news of a favourable or even hopeful kind, Mrs. Ogden was anxious to proceed to Twistle immediately, and Mr. Prigley had kindly accompanied her. The reader may have inferred from pre- vious pages of this history that, although Mr. Prigley may have been a blameless and earnest divine, he was not exactly the man best fitted to influence such a nature as that of Isaac Ogden. He had little unders standing either of its weakness or of its strength — of its weakness before certain forms of temptation, or its strength in ac- knowledging unwelcome and terrible facts: After Mrs. Ogden had simply said, ‘ Well, Isaac, there’s no news of him yet,’ the clergyman tried to put a cheerful light on the subject by expressing the hepe that the boy was safe in some farmhouse. Mr. Og~ den answered that very farmhouse within several miles had been culled at, and that Twistle Farm was the last of the farms on the moor side. Jt was most unlikely, in his opinon that the child could resist the cold so long, especially as he had no pro- visions of any kind, and was net even sufs ficiently clothed to go out; and as he had certainly not called at any house within seven or eight miles of Twistle, Mr. Ogden could only conclude that he must have per~ ished on the moor, and that the thick fall of snow was all that had prevented the dis-~ covery of his body, Mrs. Ogden sat down and began to cry very bitterly. The scrrow ofa person like Mrs. Ogden is at the same time frank in its expression and perfectly monotonous. Her regrets expressed themselves adequately in three words, and the repetition of them made her litany of grief: Poor little lad!’ and then a big burst of weeping, and then ‘poor little lad!’ again perpetually. The clergymen attempted to improve the occasion in the religious sense, ‘The Lord has given and the Lord hath taken away,’ he said, and then after a pause he added, ‘ blessed be the name of the Lord.’ Sut this brought no solace to Ogden’s mind, ‘It was not the Lord who took the lad away,’ ho said, ‘it was his father that drove him away. Iam asort of a murders er; and if they took me and hanged me it would be too good for me. I had the nicest little lad and—O God! A great agony came over him, and he flung himself on his breast upon the sofa and buried his face in the cushions. Then his mother came slowly and knelt by his side, Precious maternal feelings that had been as it were, forgotten in her heart for twenty years, like jewels that are worn no more, shone forth once more from her swimming eyes. ‘Isaac, lad,’ she said, with a voice that sounded in his ears like a far oftrecollection of boyhood, *‘ Isaac, lad, it were none o’ thee as did it—it were drink, ‘Thou wouldn’t ’ave hurt a hair hof his head. Then she kissed him. It was a weary night at Twistle. Nobody had any hope left, but they felt bound to continue the search, and relays of men came up from Shayton for the purpose. They were divided into little parties of six or eight, and Mr. Jacob directed their movements. Each group returned to the house after exploring the ground allotted to it, and Mr. Ogden feverishly awaited its arrival, The ever-recurring answer, the sad shake‘of the head, the disappointed looks, sank into the heart of the bereaved father. About two in the morning he got a little sleep, and awoke in half an hour somewhat stronger and calmer.

delirium tremens;

It is unnecessary to pursue the details of these sufferings. brought no news. Dr. Bardly came back from Wenderholme, and seemed less affect» ed than would haye been expected by those who knew his love and friendship for little Jacob. He paid, however, special atten. tion to Mr. Isaac, whom he invited to stay with him for a few weeks, and who bore bis sorrow with a manly fortitude. The doctor drank his habitual tumblers of brandy every evening before going to bed, and the first evening, by way of hospitality had offered the same refreshment to his guest. Mr. Ogden declined simply, and the offer was not renewed. For the first week he smoked a great deal, and drank large quantities of sodaswater, but did not touch any intoxicating liquorr, Ue pers severed in this abstinence, and declared his firm resolve to continue it as a visible sign of his repentance, and of his respect to the memory of his boy. He was very gentle

Wool, per ib 0.17 to 0.25

Ch’town, July 27, 1874.—6m

and pleasant, and talked freely with the

man whose vigour and energy had mani- fested themselves in some abruptness and rudeness in the common intercourse of life, this new gentleness was a marked sign of sadness. When the doctor’s servant, Mar- tha, came in unexpectedly and found Mr. Ogden alone, she often observed that he had shed tears; but he seemed cheerful when spoken to, and his grief was quict and undemonstrative.

The search for the child was still actively pursued, and his mysterious disappearance became a subject of absorbing interest to the neighborhood. ‘The local newspapers were full of it, and the ‘Sootyhorn Gazette’ contained a terrible story of Mr. Ogden’s cruelty to his child. The writer was an in- habitant of Shayton who had the misfor- tune to have Mr. Jacob Ogden fora creditor and who had been pursued with great rigour by that gentleman. He got the necessary data from the policeman who had brought the whip back fromthe pond and gave such a description of it as made the flesh creep On the bones of the people of Sooty- horn, anu their cheeks redden With indig. nation. ‘The doetor happened to be away from the house when the newspaper ar- rived, and Mr, Isaac opened it and read the article. “The facts stated in it were true and undeniable, and the victim quailed under his punishment, If he had ventur, ed into Sootyhorn he would have been mobbed and pelted, or perhaps lynched. Lie was scarcely safe even in Shayton; and when he walked from the doctor's to Mil. end, the factory operatives asked him where his whip was, and the children pre- tended to be frightened and ran out of the way. A still worse punishment was the singular gravity of the faces he met—a gravity that did not mean sympathy but censure. The ‘Sootyhorn Gazette’ de- manded that he should be punished—that an example should be made of him, and so on. ‘The writer had his wish without the intervention of the law.

After a few weeks the mystery was de- cided to be insoluble, and dismissed from the columns of the newspapers, | Even the ingenious professional detectives declared that they were at fault, and could hold out no hopes of a discovery. Mr. Ogden had with difticulty been induced to stay at the doctor’s during the prosecution of these inquiries ; but doctor Bardly had represent» ed t> bim that he ought to have a fixed address ‘1 case news should arrive, and that he need not be wholly inactive, but might ride. considerable distances in vari» ous directions, which “deed he did, but without result.

Mrs. Ogden remained at Mend, but whether from the strength of her nature or some degree of insensibility, she did not appear to suffer greatly from her bereave~ ment, and pursued her usual household avocations with her sccustomed regularity. Mr, Jacob went to his factory, and was abs sorbed in the details of business. No one put on mourning, for the child was still considered as probably alive, and perhaps his relations shrank from so decided an avowal of their abandonment of hope. The one exception to this rule was old Sarah, at Twistle, who clad herself in a decent black dress that she had by her. ‘If? little un’s deead,’ she said, ‘it’s nobbut reight to put mysel’ i’ black for him; and if he isn't, I’m so sore in my heart ovver him ‘at I’m fit to wear nought else.’

CHAPTER IX. a

The reader may remember that on the night of little Jacob’s disappearance the doctor was absent from Shayton. He had set off that morning for Sootyhorn on some business connected with the militia, and as the reader has hitherto been confined within the valley of Shayton and the bar-~ ren moors that surround it, where, it must be admitted, there is nothing interesting to be seen, perbaps he would be glad to take the empty seat in the doct* »r’s gig.

Since the reader will only take that spare seat in a spiritual sense, let us hope that he will not be greatly incommoded by a practice of the doctor’s which would be highly inconvenient were he present in the body. Dr. Bardly would never pass an old woman with a bundle or an old man with a pack on his back, or even a young woman and achild who had a long ways to go, without stopping his grey mare with a low whistle, and ordering the pedestrian in a peremptory tone to ‘git up and ride.’ There was especialiy an old woman who walked three or four times a week from Shayton to Sootyhorn on mysterious little peddling business of hers, and who so often profited by the doctor's gig that the Sooty~ horn people had standard jokes on the subject. Some said that the pair were en- gaged to be married, others affirmed that

others that she was his grandmother; but the most malicious invention reported that notwithstanding the poverty of her appear- ance, she was pessessed of considerable wealth, and that the doctor, who had Jong been aware of this, had an eye to an in- heritance,

Now this last supposition was nearer the truth than the Sootythorn people imagined, except only as to the doctor’s knowledge of the fact. Old Nanny Pickering was a rich woman; but the doctor honestly believed her to be a poor one. The very fact of her wealth made her life lonely, for she could not trust a servant in a cottage where rolls of five-pound notes were hidden in mat- tresses and pillow~cases, and old stockings full of gold were stowed away under the thatch. The only protection that Nanny Pickering trusted in was her hitherto un~ blemished reputation for mdigence, which she took every means to extend and maintain, She lived in a tiny cottege, by

The days passed, but* the side of asmall brook, about a mile from

the highroad, and eatirely concealed from it by a thick wood. She thankfully received alms from farmers and others who had less capital than herself; and, as Lady Helena Stanburn proposed to distribute blankets and flannels at Christmas, the doctor had mentioned Nanny Pickering as a poor ob- ject of charity, which gratified Nanny for two very distinct reasons, since it saved her

as a poor woman.

ted by two preposterous manufacturing

doctor about ordinary subjects; but, for a.

the old lady was the doctor's aunt, and |

the expense of purchasing a blanket for herself, and kept up her assumed character

The road from Shayton to Sootythorn passed through a narrcw and still beautiful valley, but the solitude of it was interrupy

villages, which, as they could not’ become broader, lengthened themselves as they grew richer and more populous, till it re~- quired no great stretch of imagination to predict that the turnpike road would one day become a street, and the two towng be

POSTAGE PREPAID: x EY.

uniied by a living lien, like the Siamese twins, ever, portions of the road so effectually shut in on all sides by the steep hills that the traveller might imagine himself in some secluded valley of the lake district, a hun-~ dred miles from factory smoke. It was in a secluzion-of this kind that Nanny Picker- ing lived, and her figure was the only living object within range of the Doctoi's vision as he drove along that portion of the road, ‘Now Nanny get upand look sharp,’ said the doctor, who was far from being cere- monious in the manner of his invitations , and Nanny who had attained by pract‘ce consummate precision and agility in the the art of climbirg ‘110 the gig was by his side in an instant. Dr, Bardly who liked to see people, especially old people, active and prompt, paid his companion a complis ment, though compliments were se'dom heard from his veridical lips. ‘Why Nanny you seem to me to be getting younger and younger,’ he said, ‘you jump up same as & lass, and you never ail as I see on,’ ‘Folk have need to be strong and healthy when they have to earn their Lrerd,’ said his companion, The mare trotted along at her accustom- ed pace, and there was little conversation between the travellers; indeed they went a distance of two milesin perfect silence, when the doctor said : ; ‘You live very lonesome, Nanny, you should bave a bit of a lass to live with ye— somebody as could nurse yeif ye wanted it, or come and fetch me .f you were n9an so weil, like.’ ‘I cannot afford it , I not afford it.’ ‘Well, but them you should find some other old body, same 9s yourself, and you might both live t»gether. There’s two or three about Sootythorn, and you might happen find one as you could agree with.’ ‘ Nay; one mistress “: enough i’ one house. It’s plenty to have a bad temper o’ one’s Own, beout havin’ to bide other folk’s. ‘ Well, bang it, then you mun get wed. 1 see nout else for’t,’ ‘ When they’re gett‘n’ old,’ said Narny, ‘and han no brass, it isn’t easy to red ’em.’ Much facetious conversution ensued on this inexhaustible topic, but as it w.3 eon- ducted by both speakers in the purest Laneashire dialect, which the refined reader probably despises, it will be more p:adent not to report it. One might write a disser- tation to prove the vigour, and the terse« ness, and the venerable entiquity of that variety of speech, which ought to be studicd as ar independent idiom, cud not confound- with corrupt and vulgar Foglish, I:ke ihe English of the uneducat¢ 1 Londoner ; but such a disser tion would be written, how. ever eloquently, in vain, The old provin- cial languages are passirg away from the face of the island, and the time is at hand when the pure dia'ect of Lancashire will have given place to the Engiish of the school-master and the penny-a-liner. This may be in many ways & great gain—it will bring an important population into closer and easier relations with the other inhabi- tants of the island—but it will not be an unmixed gain ; and a thousand pregnant turns of expression, athousand keen edged phrases that have been sharpened by the wit of many generations, will be lost for ever to our soft-tongued posterity.

After passing for several miley through narrow gorges, which were sometime thick- ly planted with fir trees, and sometimes walled and buttressed with lofty cliffs of dark-grey sandstone, the doctor’s gig em- erged into a wide basin bound: i by hills a thousand feet high, but so gradual in slope that their summit or at least their sky] 1e for it would have difficult for a pedestrian to fix upon any definite summit, was at seven miles from the level ground in the valley in every direction, This, skyline was not particularly interesting or beauti- ful, for its curves were so little accentuated that, as a local photographer found out when he began to practice the dry collodion process, and to take a series of views in the neighborhood, they offered scarcely any picturesque variety ; but though the inhabitants were not very imaginative, they had imagination enough to feel a grandeur which the scenery here rather suggested than realized, and the basin of Sootyhorn had a certain reputation. ‘he town was situated very conveniently in the middle ofit; and a pleasant trout stream which as it descended from the hills, passed through some rocky dells and ravines, which were not w.thout sublimity when you once got fairly to the bottom of them, sup- plied many factories wita water, and issued from the { »wn, like a country lady from a visit to Manchester, a good deal dirtier than when it entered therein.

To be Continued.

ADAM SMITH.

The founder of the science of business was one of the most unbusinesslike of man- kind. He was an awkward Scotch profes- sor, apparently choked with books end ab- sorbed in abstractions. He wes never engaged in any sort of tiade, and would probably never have made sixpence by ¢7y if he had been, His absence of mind was amazing. On one occasion, bay'ng to sign his name to an’ official document, he pros duced not bis own signature, but au elabo-~ rate imitation of the signatnre of the pei - son who signed before him; on another, a sentinel on duty hav'ng saluted him in military fashion, he astounded and offend. ed the man by acknowledged it with acopy —a very clum*y copy no doubt—of the ges» tures. And Lord Brougham preserves other similar traditions, ‘It is related,’ he says, ‘ by old people in Edinburgh that while he moved through the Fishmarket in his accustomed attitude—that is, with his hands behind his back, and his head in the air—a female of the trade exclaimed; tak- ing b‘m for an idiot broken loose, ’Hech, sirs, to see the like o’ him to be aboot, And yet, he is well enough put on (dressed). It was often so too in society. Once, dur- ing a dinner at Dalkeith, he broke out in a loud lecture on.political matters of the day, and was bestowing a variety of severe epithets on a statesman, when he suddenly perceived his nearest relative sitting oppo~ site and stopped; b on muttering, ‘ Deil Deil care, it’s all true.’ . And these

ner in which it is w-itten.

*

At the date of this history, hows |

was heard to go

y specimens of a crowd of anecdotes. They wonder that such a man should have composed the ‘*Wealth of Nations,’ which shows so profound a knowledge of the real occup?. tions of mankind, is erhanced by the man< It was not the exclusive product of a life-long study, such as en absent men might, while in seeming abstraction, be really making of the aflairs

NO, 38.

ETISALAT

|of the world. On the contrary, it was in the mind of its author ouly one of many | books, or rather a single part of a great book, which he intended to write. A vat scheme floated before him much like the dream of the late Mr. Buckle as to a his« tory of Civilization, and he spent his lite accordingly, in studying the origin and progress of the sciences, the laws, the poli- ties, and all the other aids and forces thas man from the savage to the civilized state. The plan of Adam Smith was indeed more comprehensive even than this, He wanted not only the progress of the race, but also of the individual; he wanted to show how each man being born, as he thought, with few faculties, came to attain to many facul< ties. He wanted to answer the question, © how did man, race or mdividual, come to be what he was? These immense dreams are among the commonest phenomena of literary history, and as a rule the vaster the intention the less the result. The musings of the author are too miscellaneous, his study too scatiered, his attempts tov incoberent, for him to think out anything valuable, or to produce anything connected, But in Adan, Smith the very contrary was the fact. ile produced an enduring pars tical result in consequence of comprehene sive and diffused ambition. He discovered the laws of weaith in looking for the natu~ ral progress of

Review.

opulence .— Lortnightly

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WRAY es ee es