Che Eram
Wer.
A WEEKLY JOURNAL OF POLITICS, LITERATURE AND NEWS.
epWARD WHELAN]
a
Chis is
true Liberty, when Sree-born Men, having to advise the {Jublic, man speak free ——EvRiprpes.
[EDITOR axv PUBLISHER
aii a ahaa ‘ . Sennen iia : — a Vou. Vi, CHARLOTTETOWN, PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND. MONDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1855. No. 25.
. ‘% 7 ~) 34933 Doran, James W. Cairns, ...... Propriotor, KENT STREET, CHARLOTTETOWN, P. E. I. Pleasantly situated, and every comfort afforded at moderate cost.
rH
de} tember 3.
JAVIZS WOa2s, _
Commission Merchant, General Agent and.
Auctioneer. QUEEN STREET, CHARLOT TETOWN, PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND
i ee ee STSWART A WALID,
Ship Brokers and Commission Merchants,
For the sale and purchase of American and Previncial Produce, and Dealers in Provisions, Fish, Oil, &e. PERRY LANDING,,.......< WATER-ST., ST. JOHN, N. B. Rererences — Charlottetown, P. E.T., Jas. Purnie, Esq. St. John, N. B., Messrs. R. Rankin & Co. Oct. 8, 1855. 6m
6 MARRS, BYWOITSD Q Bo., |
Commission Merchants,
Re mem WEEE ooo cides sc: BOSTON. Particular attention is given to consignments of Vessels ani Produce from the British Provinces: and the purchase an] shipment of all kinds of Merchandize, witha general Insurance SOP ci he alte spin 10. Na bs BUTLER a 4a 8 aN)
Whoelesale Dealer in
PAINTS, OILS AND WINDOW GLASS, |
Drugs, Medicines & Dye Stuffs.
rses and vehicles, for hire, in connection-with the establishment.
— | And, bending mournfully above the pale, i }
Literature.
THE CLOSING OF THE YEAR.
"Tis midnight’s holy hour, and silence‘now
Is brooding like a gentle spirit o’er
The still and pulseless world. Hark! on the winds The bell’s deep tones are swelling ; ’tis the knell Of the departed year. No funeral train
Is sweeping past, yet, on the stream and wood,
With melancholy light the moonbeams rest, Like a pale, spotless shroud; the air is stirred As by a mourner’s sigh; and on yon cloud, That floats so still and placidly through heaven, The spirits of the seasons seem te stand : oung spring, bright summer, autumn’s solid form, And winter with his aged locks,—and breathe, In mournful cadences, that come abroad Like the far wind harp’s wild and touching wail, A melancholy dirge o’er the dead year Gone from the earth forever.
"Tis a time For memory and for fears. Within the deep, Still chambers of the heart, a spectre dim, W hose tones are like the oinal voice of Timo, Heard from the tomb of ages, points its cold And solemn finger to the beautiful And holy visions that have passed away, And left no shadow of their loveliness On the dead waste of life.
That spectre lifts
The coffin-lid of hope, and joy, and love,
Sweet forms that slumber there, scatters dead flowora O’er what is passed to nothingness. The year
Has gone, adh with it many a glorious throng
Of happy dreams. Its mark is on the brow,
Its shadows in each heart.
Manufacturer of Coach, Furniture, Piano-forte and Damar or
Zine VARNISHES. We. 43 INDIA GERERT ..cavrccecas BOSTON, MASS.
Uctober 22, 1855. 2m
“Stratford Hotel.” VEU above Establishment, which is d ‘lightfully situated on the South Side of the Hillsborough, and commands an extensive view of the City and Harbour, IS JUST OPENED, and has superior accommodations for Private Families and Transient Boarders ; and the Subscriber trusts, by assiduity and attention to the convenience and comfort of his guests, to
merit the countenanee and support of the publie ¢ ‘nerally. Phere is also good STABLE accommodation on the premises.
October 20. tf. GEORGE MOORE.
Commission Merchant &
Commission Merchant; would attend to the shipment of Produce, &c. Rererences.—Lon. Jawes Prax, + Wy Loa. DD. Bamwax. ‘© Cmas. Yornc. W. B. Dean, Esq., Am. Con. Agent. GEORGE MOORE. Stratford Hotcl, opposite Charlottetown, Nov. 5. 2m.
purchase and
Hf ‘ * il Hh ae
“ Alliance Life and Fire Insurance Company” of
LONDON ESTABLISHED BY ACT OF PARLIAMENT IS24.
Capital, Five Milions Sterling.
CHARLES YOUNG. Agent for P. £. Island.
April 14. Freehold for Sale.
TT! AT well known Freehold, of 55 acres, “ EGLANTINE |
POINT,” Fortune Bay, formerly owned by Epwarp ABELL, ie |
now offered for sale, of which a good and valid title ean be given. For further particulars apply to W. B. DEAN. Registered vook 24, page 878. tf July 23. Dweliing House and Land near Charlotte- town for Sale. Por SALE, the newly built and commodious Dwelling _ House in Charlottetowa Royalty, late the residence of the Hon. Charles Hensley, together with eighteen acres of Land adjoining The Dwelling House contains—Dining Room, Drawing Koom and Study; two itehens, with Store-reome, &c.; and Nine Bed-reoms. There iz also Stables, Coach-house, Re« t-house, Pump, &c.,on the premises. The dis- tance from Charlottetown is rather less than one mile Also to Jet trom year to year, or for a term of years, as agreed upon,
ei Pasture Lots in Charlottetown Royaity, near the above Dwelling ouse.
For Terms of Sale and Lease Genera!’s Office, Colonial Buildin July 30.
pply to the subseriver at the Attorney g, Charlottetown. : JOSEPH WENSLEY. Public Lands. Ue Commissioner of Public Lands gives notice that per- | sons who have given bonds for the purchase favorable terms offered them—should they not accounts, by calling at the Commissioner’s Office, and agreeing to the lance thereon in the terms offered by the Government—render aa. Selves liable to any alteration in these terms which may be thought | advisable. September 17, 1855. = ,
of lands—having had speedily settle their.
uy Notice.
LL persons are hereby cautioned against trespassing on |
_those lands situate on Lot or Township No. 46, the property of Captain Byrne, the heirs of Mrs. Taylor and of Miss Gan Cunningham, and lying between the western boundary of Major Crovuke’s land, and the eastern boundary of Lot 45. trespussing, will be prosecuted with the utmost rigour of the law. ROBERT STEWART,
Agent for Captain Byrne, the heirs of Mrs. Taylor what particular vocati
_Charlottetown, dente and Miss Guo Cunningham. _ BOOKS, BOOKS.
ge ae begs to eall the attention of the reading
whieh - ac te his Stock of new and second hand BOOKS,
ar comprises works on every branch of human knowledge,
‘2 various languages. Ministers and Schoolmasters will
ind by inspection that the can obtain v : 3 Maieehumedhied a Me oe egg Works, Eng-
Chatlottstown, Nov. 12, 1855, * WESTACOTT.
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General Agont. FYHE undersigned having good Shop, Cellarage and Ware- | house room, offers his services as General Agent and |
Any person or persons so ‘ound | teacher "
In its swift course, It waved its spectre o’er the beautiful ; And they are not. It laid its pallid hand Upon the strong man, and the Scachéy form Is fallen, and the flashing eye is dim. It trod the hall of revelry, where thronged The bright and joyous ; and the tearful wail Of stricken ones is heard where erst the song And reckless shout resounded.
‘ It passed o'er ‘ The battle-plain, where sword, and spear, and shield, Fiashed in the light of mid-day ; and the strength Of serried hosts is shivered, and the grass Green from the soil of carnage, waves above The crushed and mould’ring skeleton. It came And faded like 2 wreath of mist at eve ;
Yet, ere it melted in the viewless air, It heralded its millions to their home In the dim land of dreams.
i Remorseless Time! Fierce spirit of the glass and scythe! what power Can stay him in his silent course, or melt Hlis iron heart to pity! On, still on He presses and forever. The proud bird, The Condor of the Andes, that ean soar Through heaven's unfathomable depths, or brava The fury of the northern hurricane,
And bathe his plumage in the thunder’s home, Furls his broad wings at nightfall, and sinks down To rest upon his mountain crag; but Time
Knows not the weight of sleep or weariness ;
And Night’s deep darkness has no.chain to bind
His rushing pinion.
Revolutions sweep Q’er earth, like troubled visions o’er the breast Of dreaming sorrow ; cities rise and sink } Like bubbles on the water ; fiery isles Spring blazing from the ocean, and go back To their mysterious caverns ; mountains rear To heaven their bald and blackened cliffs, and bow Their tall heads to the plain ; new empires riso, Gathering the strength of hoary centuries, And rush down the Alpine avalanche, Startling the nations.
| Yet time, Time, the tomb-builder, holds his fierce career, Dark, stern, all pitiless ; and pauses not Amid the mighty wreeks that strew his path, To sit anc muse, like other conquerors, Upon the fearful ruin he has wrought.
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The Dress-maker.
| “The ideaof you choosing a dress-maker’s occupation, Annie, ‘tis perfectly outrageous: I shouldn’t have thought \it of you—iv’s positively unkind ;” and the speaker paused ‘and regarded her young cousin, Annie Desmond, with in- creasing ire, as she remarked her cool indifference.
Why don’t you speak, Annie ?”’she went on, as that young lady continued her work quietly, without replying ; * one would think you were about conferring some great honor
‘upon your family by your lofty manner, instead of degrad- |
lug it 2” ‘A flitting smile passed over Miss Desmond’s delicate face. ‘T have told you before, Cousin Fanny, that it was the best thing I could do. Why need to waste words upon it ?” «The best thing you can do, indeed! Can’t you play upon the piano—ean’t you paint, and draw, and talk in two or three languages ?” ; “Yes, I can play the last new polka or song, provided it isn’t very difficult. I ean paint a little with crayons, and [ can say it’s a fine day, and Son soir in French and Italian. What a teacher of all those accomplishments I should make !”
~~ and the flitting smile ended in a scornful laugh.
‘ You underrate yourself, Annie, 1 know. Why, I heard Frank Hunter say last winter, that your voice was the sweetest contralto he ever heard.”
“That may be, but a good voice won’t make a good
“You are too provoking, Annie, I declare. Do tell me on you think you have for dress-making,
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“ Then do for pity’s sake give it up, and act like a ration- al being.”
“Now, Fanny, it won't do any good for you to talk. I have made up my mind, andI shall abide.”
“To be a dress-maker ?”
“ A dress-maker’s apprentice at first!” calmly answered Anne.
“ Well, you always were perfectly set from a child. I L hope you'll get somebody to master that iron will some of these days.”
“ Not where my daty is concerned—no’ manor woman shall ever acquire that influence over me.”
“Well, ['ve done trying, and now mean to wash my hands ef you. L’ve done all I could. I’ve yiven my advice, and promised to recommend you as a teacher.”
How Anne’s royal lips eurled at this.
“And if you persist in this odd whim, you must be aware Anne, that we cannot—”
“ Associate,’ Lunders'an] perfectly, Fanny; you needn't mince the matter,” interrupted Anne, very coldly. “ I knew ftom the beginning how you would feel about this, and [am
neither angry nor hurt—it is what I always expected—'tis |
your character to do se-—we shall not quarrel about that.”
Mrs, Harper didn’t know whether to be offended or not; so she replied with some pique in her tones:
* Well, if you aint the curtest, most unfeeling girl I ever saw. You didn’t want me to ery about it, did you? How queer yon are, Anne Desmond;” and Mrs. Harper rose to ge, with a secret feeling that Anne was somehow her superior, spite of poverty, misfortune and her strange whims.
‘Where are you going to work, Anne ¢” she asked, rather hesitatingly.
“QO, not at your dress-maker’s, Fanny, so you wont be mortified by seeing me there. At Mrs. Bowen’s in C— street.”
“ Well, good by, you must let me know how you get along.”
“Yes, and when the balance, brings me up again in the scale of society, Fanny, I suppose I can come and see you.”
Again Mrs. Harper was nonplussed, as she often was with her cousin Anne, and hastily took her leave. Anne Desmond did care for the painful necessity that compelled her to seek employment when her father died, and contrary
to all expectations left her penniless; bat she had an active, |
energetic mind, and one good friend, her nurse, house keeper, and foster mother, who would as soon have thoug't of de- serting her own flesh and bleod,as Anne: so the two had decided to take a small tenement and furnish it with some of the plainest furniture saved from the grand sale—thus, with what our heroine could earn, together with some pro- perty derived from the sale of some’ valuable jewels, pictures aad trinkets of her own, they would eke out a subsistence.
Anne had fondly imagined that she would be confined to the work room; but Mrs. Bowen was too well aware of the advantage that a fine face and lady-like bearing would be to her reception room, itwith a humility that was far prouder than most people's pride. One day while showing a superb cloak toa young belle, the door opened and a lady and gentleman entered. Anne did not look up, for it was no unusuz! thing for the male friends of the ladies to accompany them, but she was startled when the stylish girl she was conversing with, said some suavity :
* How do you do, Mrs. Carlisle,” and then the pretty head returned the gentleman's inclination with a little gratified nod.
No wonder Anne was startled and interested, for this
handsome man was Edward Carlisle, a yx ung lawyer and|
orator of great talents, as she could testify, having heard him lecture before the Lyceum that winter.
man’s—Anne put on the dainty cloak and stood while they discussed the form and material, perfectly unconscious in her proud carelessness, how very becoming the soft emerald hue was to her rose-tinted complexion ; but Mrs. Carlisle, with her keen appreciation of beauty, was quite as much struck
with the wearer as with the garment itself, and taraing to | her companion, who was watching the drays and omnibusses |
with commendable attention, she said: N’ a’t'elle pas la belle air, Edward ?”
The bright color flushed up to Anne’s oval cheek, and the next moment the Parisian novelty was lying over the back
ofa chair, and with haughty civility she foided ber hands |
and awaited further orders. Pretty little Mrs. Carlisle had good sense and kind feeling, and her distress was only equal
to her amazement, as she discovered that ber handsome shop- |
woman understood French.
“‘ How vexatious, Hilward ; IT had no idea she could talk,
French. I dare say she is a reduced gentlewoman.”
“T dare say she is just what she seems, my little romantic sister, but you have no idea of any other class than your own ; republican as you profess tobe, you yet cannot imagine a seamstress understanding French. This is a country of public schools, you must remember, and your heroine, most likely, is some poor man’s daughter, that has passed through one of these, and not having a vocation for teaching, or the opportunity perhaps, she has chosen with praiseworthy independence ber present profession.”
“Pshaw! How you bring everything down to your plain practical standard.”
“Tt will have to come there in the end, and it might first
a2 : “a ‘ then,” said Miss Fanny Harper sarcastically ; but the sneer | Radiaiiinen did not affect Anne Desmond in the least—she answered. both, your undaunted courage and brave talents—now wasn't glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. But where y
as lightly as ifithad been unspoken.
« O, I have considerable taste, I believe, in all due modesty,
as last, for what I see.”
‘Pooh, there are exceptions to every rule, and I know there is romance connected with that girl, the romance at least of—”’
* Having seen better days; that cant phrase,” laughed her companion. “Oh you are bound to make a heroine of her, I see. But democratic as you think you are, 1 am much mistaken, if when brought to the test—say of her becoming a member of our own family, that your republicanism would materially diminish,”
“ No such a thing, but I am sorry you judge me harshly.”
“ Nay, my dear Bel, not harshly—it is only just ; for a woman brought up as you have been from infaucy, in the midst of luxury, with not one reverse of lortune as yet, ’ tis next to impossible to view thse things as they real'y are. I speak about them from experience—for John and [ carve our way upward, as you know, from poverty.”
“To distinction, Edward, and that is what [ honor in you
that romance ?”’ “No, anything but that; it was steady, unflinching per-
for anything of that kind; you know I always made Nurse’ severance.”
Harris's cape and got up my own party dresses.”
QO you horrib’e old realist !” playfully exclaimed the lady,
“I guess you'll find it’s another thing to get up everybody’s ‘as she ran up the steps of her spacious dwelling, followed by
party dresses !”
“ Idare say I shall, Fanny,” answored Anne, with the least
touch of sadness in her tone.
her brother-in-law. - a Desmond, I wish you would call at Mrs. Carlisle’s,
on yor way home, and see what je the trouble with those! accompany most loyers, for ehe is @ woman,
a
She made no remark at this, but bore |
By Mrs. Car-)
lisle’s request, which lady was the sister in-law of the young.
| dresses,” and Mrs. Bogen handed Anne a slip of paper with _the address written on it. It was an casy matter to find |that stately residence, and Anne very soon was conferring | with its mistress,
| “[ wish you would stay this evening and alter them, | miss—”
‘‘ Desmond,” said Anne, quietly. | The lady bowed in acknowledgment, and went on. “It | would oblige me very mnch if you could.”
It was with great satisfaction that Mrs. Carlisle heard | Anne’s compliance with this request, for she really cared far | more about the dress-maker than the dresses. She was a | very warm-hearted, enthusiastic littke woman, and when once | interested, was a staunchefriend. Contrary to all Anne’s e-« | perience, when the tea bell rang, she was invited very quietly, ‘in a matter-of-course Way, to join them, Determined to show that sceptical Rdward how in earnest she was, Mrs. | Carlisle introduced the young seamstress like a guest, for a | lady—no matter in what circle accident had placed her, and the hostess felt that it was an easy thing to treat her as suck, The seeptical Elward could not but acknowledge that his young vis-a-vis was a very lovely, high-bred woman, perhaps, | too, he acknowledged she had da belle air. The conversation |turned upon lectures, and the last was discussed with great | jnterest. | Did you hear it, Miss Desmond?” qnestioned Mrs. Carlisle, turning to Anne.
« No, ma’am, [ have attended but one this winter.”
“ Which was that ?”
“ The first.”,
Anne did not blush as she pronounced this, though she |was very well aware that the orator of that evening was Hooking at her very closely with his bright blue eyes, but
his sister-in-law looked up and said with simplicity :
“Why, then, youeheard Edward, it was funny you didn't ' recognize him,”
Anne thought it was funny, but she didn’t say so; and | when the conversation turned on something else she glanced 'up to the young man’s face, and met his arch smile with lanother as arch and sweet, but more evanescent—it was ‘enough to make them feel a great deal better acquainted than a month of sober conversation, and when they retired, as was the usual custom, to Mrs. Carlisle’s pretty sitting room, the young gentleman watched Anne secretly, with some | curiosity, to know what was beneath that calm, professional exterior ; for one moment the mask had been off, and he had a glimpse of her soul; that glimpse only excited the wish to learn more, but with drooping head she silently worked away at the elegant silks, until at last a general silence ensued. At length, Frank, a little fellow of cight years, who was looking ‘over a book of his father’s, turned to Anne, with whom he had taken a wonderful fancy, with : “ What's this ? what dees it mean 2”
It was 2 sentence of stenography, and our heroine, in a very low voice, explained and trans!ated it to him, but low as it was, it did not escape cither Mrs. Carlisle's or her brother's jears, and that lady leoking up from her work, said, with some surprise :
“That's an unusual accomplishment for a lady, Miss
}, | Desmond.”
“My father taught it to me,” was the only reply. Mrs, Carlisle glanced across at Edward with an expression that said as plainly as looks could say—* she has seen better | days,’—and by way of leading her on, she said: | What benefit did he think would acerne 2”
* He was a printer, ma’am, it was of great assistance to him at times.”
Poor littie Mrs. Carlisle; how her air castle crumbled ; she i had been so sure that Anne’s father was an eminent man and scholar, and she could hardly brook with patience the lurking smile at the corners of Edward's mouth, as the simple truth was simply announced. Bat if the young man smiled at his preity sister’s discomfiture—he was no less pleased with the noble simplicity of that reply.
The work completed. Anne arose to go, she quietly ac- | cepting his offered escort. Mrs. Carlisle had begun really to | find much interest in Anne, and it was odd‘how often after )this she was wanted at her house to retrim or alter some
| dress. | “Bel, [have an opportunity to put your vaunted repub- _licanism to the test,” and Mr. Elward Carlisle threw down ‘his book and flang his head back to meet his sister's eyes, not long after this.
ie, Well, out with it, some of your teazing nonsense, I sup- | pose.
{ ‘There is no nonsense about it; it is just this, I am | going to. make Anne Desmond my wife, if she will have me.” | “ Why, Edward,” she said, hastily, “ I never was so sur- prised in my life; you often Jaughed at my romantic notions regarding her.”
“T think it quite a natural thing for a young man thrown into the society of a handsome intellectual woman, to fall in love with her.”
Mrs. Carlisle laughed. “ How many handsome intellectual -women have you ming!ed with before, pray ?” ia Ah, but my time hadn’t come, then, Bel.” | « Well, you're a queer lover, anyway ; do tell me, Eiward, if you ever send her flowers, books, or any of the delightful | trifles Jovers usually lavish on their sweet-hearts ?” | $s Never !” | 1] knew you hadn’t. you heathen you!” | Hark amoment. I respected her situation too much to | do so, until [ had made her an offer of my hand. I knew toe many young men, who never go any further with girls in
her position, than to send them flowers and gifts ; if she should accept your humble servant, [ think you will not find me ‘tardy in lover-like accomplishments, Bel.” _ You're a noble fellow. [ wish you success.” |“ And you will welcome her as a sister?” he said, fixing ‘his bright eyes on her as he rose to leave the room. | “Yes, indeed, I will. I may perhaps have felt a little disappointment at first, for as you said, it is hard to over- come the influences of society, especially when I found it was coming home to you, Ned, you whom I have always thought too good for anybody ; but ny own noble husband’s father and | yours was a carpenter, Ned, and now [ think of it, I believe my grandmother was a seamstress, so that those who live in
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going ¢” = . ~ «To learn my fate,” he said smiling half comically, half i sadly. .
| ‘And you-doubt the issue? :
a) | shouldst bea lover if I did not; besides you must
been no tender little love passages—no of the sweet. securities which
Bel, who does
jremember there has flirting. I go without any
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