LE

> <_< ee Oe ere ee Se re er

GOD BLESS THE FARM.

God bless the farm-—the dear old farm! God bless its every rood,

Where willing hearts and sturdy arms Gan earn an honest livelihood !

Can from the coarse and fertile soil Win back a recompense for toil

tiod bless each meadow, field and nook Begemmed with fairest flowers,

And every leaf that’s gently shook By evening breeze or merning showers

thod bless them ali! each leafs a gem In nature's gorgeous diadem

rhe orchards that, in early spring,

Blush rich in fragrant flowers, And with®each autumn surely bring

Their wealth of (cuits in golden showers Like pomegranates on Aaron's rod,

4 miracle from Nature's God,

And may he bless the farmer's home, Where peace and plenty reign ; No happier spot ‘neath heaven's high dome Doth this broad, beauteous earth contain, Chan where secure ‘rom care and strife The farmer leads his peaceful life

invexed by toil and tricks for gain, He turns the fertile mould

Then scatters on the golden grain, And reaps reward a hundred-fold ,

Me dwells where grace and beauty charm, For God hath blessed his home and farm.

LIETRATURE. . SL ee

A TERRIBLE ALTERNATIVE.

——_—_—_—

« You seem to be very much struck by that picture,” said my old friend, the colonel (for i don't mean to betray family secrets, | shall speak of him as the ‘¢olonel’ only),

at whose cosy nook in Buckinghamshire I |

had quartered myself for a few days. picture he alluded to certainly had attracted I

in unusual amount of my attention, con

sidering that. as a rule, | am strangely des ent in artistic taste. ‘Well, yes,’ | answered, my eye returning

to rest on that particular object which had attracted it many times before, ‘ regarding it as a picture, I should say it is by no means the best,of your collection, but, regarding it asa portrait, there is something about it that ‘fetches’ me. Itis not that the face is either Handsome or intellectual, but there is a strange, weird something about it which the artist seems to have caught fresh from the living face, and transferred to the canvas, and which all hie after art had failed to paintout,

The picture which gave rise to these ob- servations was that of a man certainly not past middle age, dressed in the fashion of the earlier period of the reign of George ill,

The |

| blinds, and the carriage rattled away. | did not like his position, and began t pect that all was not right. They kept utter silence. They turning and turning many times. inquired, ‘ Hlad they far to go?’ and received the brief answer, ‘No,’ At last they drove into the courtyard of a great house. The There were no

listance, Once he

seemed to drive a great

door opened as if by magic. lights, he might as well

folded ; there would have been a total dark ness but for the moonbeams which struggled

have been blind-

} yoga | through the stained-glass window, and fe : a ee

in fantastic shadows at their feet as they

ascended the wide stone staircase, On

reaching the first landing they threw open 4 ind for a second he was almost Diina- light that streamed ou

closed behind him

| door, ed by the blaze ol rhe door he stepped into the room ifthe room ata g

| upon him. ile whole aspect

| gorgeously furnished,

i minated wiih wa LY the heavily curtaine commanding appea head a

tised his

they entered, an

ag to the farend of the room, ‘ Your patient lies there, sit

owed Lice aire

My grandfather's eyes fon ltion of his finger, and observed a woman | stretched upon a couch. Where had he seen lthat face before? Slowly it dawned upon | his memory. A few days back he h 1d been lto the theatre, and, glancing round, was | struck by a beautiful, fair face, which for | the time fascinated him; be thought it the

lie looked on ita The hands wer

leveliest there, gain now, but how changed ! upon the dumb, white terror was written on the face ; | and inthe great uplifted eyes there was a

laspe

breast, as though in prayer, a

| hopeless, despairing agony sickening to

hold.

| had been attacked, and seeing that she was

| gagged, he begged them to release her mouth,

| , : an that she might answer his questions, add

ing ‘I must know something of the symptoms

before can attempta cure.’

‘Your business here is to kill, not to cure, dactor.’ said one in a strangely sad tone, wbich accorded ijl with his stern, fearful ‘Your patient has spoken her last

phrase. She is doomed to die by

word in this world, a secret though strictly just tribunal, but we would temper justice with mercy and spare her the shame and public disgrace. You can cause her to die easily and secretly , therefore we have brought you here. ‘Ifthis lady has committed any crime so great as to deserve death,’ he answered, full of compassion for the unfortunate,‘ she

The face and figure, as regarded mere form ind feature, were there was nothing suificiently remarkable in | the portrait to attract more than @ passing observation ; indeed, on looking at it,you felt | it ought to represent a kindly, genial gentle- | man: but somehow it didn’t. There seemed to be something behind it, working out | through the painted eyes as though it or] they had seen what they should not, and were haunted by some awful mystery that) would not be hidden even in the grave. Turning my back upon it I shifted the con- versation; and my ‘riend seemed by a means displeased to dismiss the subject, | We had a long, gossipy chaton many mats | ters interesting to old friends who meet but seldom and with long japses of time between. it was late before we could make up our minds to separate. At as I left the | reom, candlestick in hand, I could not help, | against my will, casting a furtive glance at | the door be-

' iadSt,

the portrait, and hastily shut hind me. I was dead tired, for I had come

offa long journey; but when I got to bed it | was a long time before I could compose my-

se'f to sleep, and when I did | was troubled | in my dreams. The portrait had me up stairs, slipped into the and tried to get into the bed beside me failing in that, went and leaned against the

wall and came out of the frame and climhed

upto the top of my bed, hid in the curtain

folds, and multiplied itself by thousands,

till the whole atmosphere, above and around | me, was filled with one weird, strange face. | In the morning my friend hoped I had slept | well. Itold him the sort of purgatory I had endured, adding ,

‘I am sure there is some grim secret con- | nected with that picture ; you may us well | tell me whatitis. If itis a family seer=t, I promise to keep it sacred.”

followed room alyer me, |}

but, |

* Well,’ he answered, after a moment's res |

flection, ‘ there is a painful story connected with it. The portrait is that of my grand- father—Doctor Mathias, let us callhim. He was one of the physicians-in-ordinary to | George If, which position he oceupied Jong } before he had reached middle age. He was a courteous, geniai, kindly man, full of those social qualities which make a man a favor- So much I have heard. In igh spirits and plea- sant anticipations, he went on the continent fora month’s holiday. he came back at the | end of it an allered man—his genial nature clouded with an eradicable gloom. He gave up all practice, all society; bought this place, and settled here , he received no visits, paid none; he lived in his library among his books, occasionally taking Jong solitary rambles about the country. His nature did not degenerate into harshness, buta strange melancholy possessed him; ils cause was unknown, so was its cure. He turned his back upon the world, and though he was no world scorner nothing would induce him to enter it again, He was a widower—and his only son—my father—was then a boy at Harrow. You may imagine this was nota lively place for a highespirited young fellow to come home to; they saw little of each other. In due time myffather married, and { was born. Years passed, and one wintry night, when I was’about eighteen years old, we received a telegram summoning us here, We came, and were shown into the room where you slept last night. The old man, with the stamp of death upon his face, was propped up on pillows where he had lain for hours, his eyes fixed on the door, watching forns. As we entere! the room his filmy eyes brightened; his eager, outstretched hands trembied as we touched them. With the damp death dew on his brow, his voice quaking, and his whole soul shuddering as he lived over again one terrible moment of his life, he told us the story which I had

te of sociely. tbe vear 1776, full of

‘ommenplace enough: |

the public executioner, not by mine.’

‘ By yours, and yours only,’ said one ol

his conductors gravely. ‘There is no time to waste is. She knows she has

In mere wore

; ' ' : deserved leath, and she know that sh

Ss

must die.

‘God forbid!’ exclaimed the physician, a

hes

must meet her punishment from the hands of

i mien are

iunrbher on her way from this

conducted from | he had entered |

world to the next lie was

in the same Way as

the place conductors took leave ol

‘it. and when his nif | him they suggested that it would be well |

% } le dalay as i

) Naples with as Libbie dl lay r }

|

| |

|

fup!’

ception of the case; in fact, it frequently |

happens that he is away out on the floor | before his eyes are fairiy open, having but

a a | He inquired what was the matter—how she |

into those windows! We won't have a | carpet left if you don’t move faster. What . ’ | onearth are you doingall this time? Can't |

| |

|

frozen horror stealing over him. The omin |

ous stillness, the grim aspects of the terrible

men, struck a chill to bisheart. He realized all the horror of his position.

‘A doctor never travels without his tools,’ resumed the stranger; and as he spoke he

and, pointing to it, added signiffeantly: « Open the jugular vein: it isthe easiest and |

quickest way to die.’

My grandfather started back amazed and horror-strnck: he had uttered during one of those pleasant gatherings at the house of a celebrated Neapolitan afew days back. dare you heexciaimed. ‘I man,and will not commit murder

‘ Tlow propose to m* such a

erime? x am an Eng

«Pshaw! your nation produces as ma honorable criminals as any other. Toy work, Sir, and qu ' i\ ynscis ent is scruples, r n if lies lightly on m ns 2; lay that coms fort to irsoul, Nom v J he I perempts -‘ not ¢ this is thet f acruyol

‘| refu ‘ 1d Let me go

The man wh id been writing, and until now had taken no part whatever in the scene that was passing round him, then rose up

; and joined the group, Laying his hand lightly on my granifather’s shoulder, he said ;

‘There is no escape for you, «loctor ;

every moment you hesitate you prolong that

woman's pain. She must die;

| dispatch her with painless speed.’

‘What if I refi You cannot force

me to commit so foul a murder.’

ise?

He pointed to two swarthy figures (either soldiers or livericd servants family—my grandfather could not tell which) who had been standing motionless by the couch and answered:

they are be

you, and afterwards dispatch her ; not professional, and their work will clumsily done. If the operation be not per- formed upon your patient before the clock strikes you know your fate; if you are ob-~ durate, rerrember you throw away your own life without saving hers. She is doomed ; no power on earth can save her.’

It was in vain to expostulate with those fiends in human form. Ue felt they were as stern and inexorable as fate. It was as cruel as horrible and cowardly. Five men assembled to witness the professional murs der of a young and beautiful woman! What had she done? whom had she offended? Some secret machinery was at work; these men were mere instruments in the hands ef a higher power—they hail owned as much; they had no personal interest in the matter. They were there to carry ont justice, they said—secretly, ii Was true; but the woman had been lawfully condemned, and the sen- tence of the law must be privately executed.

The woman’s eyes were fixed upon them during the whole of the conversation, and travelled from one face to the other in hopes less agony; not a word passed her ears, and only the one despairing, changeless ex- pressicn sat like a seal upon her face. She knew there was no escape for her—none. There was only the one question to be solvs ed: Was she to die by the unwilling hand of a pitying stranger, or be killed cruelly by professional murderers? What a world of terror must have been compassed in those few moments of her lite as she lay watching

better put together in may own Words.

It appears that during that momentous visit te the continent he wentto Naples. He | was received by the best society, and most | hospitably entertained in the most distin- guished social and political circles, where he passed many pleasant hours discoursing and discussing intellectual and scientific subjects —chemistry, surgery, and once, among these | things, the use and misuse of poisons crop- pel up in the course of conversation; and some one preseut—a geutieman of some note am! importance—asked what was the quick- est and easiest death t» The subject was freely debated,

die,

One evening he returnrd from one of those pleasant gatherings, and in a reflective mood of mind, sat for an hour looking over the moonlit city and the beautiful, world-famous bay. It was near midnight, when two strangers were shown into him, who re- quested his immediate attendance in a case of great urgency. He represented that he was there on a visit of pleasure, and not for professional purposes. They were perfectly awareef that fact, they said, still, they urged him so strongly that they at last overcame his scruples, and he consented to go with them. A carriage was at the door; he got

| along the center of the ceiling.

| and wailing there.

Theciock began to chime the quarters; it was to strike. At signal the statute-like figures steppe] forward and rapidly uncoiled a rope with a noose already made; thcy were about to slip it over his head and hang him to a beam which ran

about a

given

The horror of facing a sudden and violent end him—his death would avail her nothing for

siezed

whom he died. Uis senses were ina whirl. he threw up his hands and sprang forward, ‘Tl do it!’ fell on his knees before her. ‘They will have your life; I cannot save ycu child; but I ean shield you from their rough, cruel hands,and put you painlessly lo rest. Forgive me, for~ give me, for it is in mercy that Ido this cruel deed.

The white hand went out him and closed over his in a soft, forgiving clasp; the agony died out of the sweet eyes as they rested one moment in his face; then with a very low sigh she closed them and turned away her head. In another moment her young life was slowly ebbing away. He remained by her side, holding her hand in his and swatching till all was over. He would not for a second leave her with those

he exclaimed, and

to

in first, they followed him, pulled down the

stern men, lest a wounding word or touch

and you can} og she will never understand why a man}

| very brief pause.)

: | was bound to have that heip before he moved turned the lace back from the tender throat, | ; re | outof the room. He has got the lamp lig

These were the very words |

| cries out,

| now.

he would leayv

. ‘or sucl possible. ‘This for ed murder—for such il ha really was—lay upou his conscience to tic 7 i ’ 7 ‘ . . ‘ . one | end of his life, and filled it wilh

} ) i

- Y thea

-a living nightmare—toi that

scene wasalways ssentto his mind, The SUE ‘ , as i

‘ le ae i 71e(

ynge that had so long puzau dus puzzled

He could not carry his secret

so he gave

ne remorse

ei us no more,

t into to the grave '

with him,

our keeping. ‘]t’ , ‘And unlike most terrible stories, It 1s out for a breath

1 exclaimed.

a terrible story

ome a ' ww !

__—oe +

PULLING DOWN THE WI VDOWS, | |

\ r wh 1 mun |

{ ; i l ny

u it tL log ind | lown

t! Qn the advent of @ thun ry

i that a man wakes first. If]

should, he keeps quiet so as nol to lis | turb his wife and avail himself of the first lull tosieepagain, How differently a woman acts—oh! so dilferently, dust assoon as she wakes up and hears that it ts raimilig, she all judgment at once. She

seems lo lose

plants both of her feet into her husband's time catching him by the

his head, and hysterically

back, at the sami

hair

screams— Get up, gel up, quick tits pouring

and sh iking

down in torrents, and the windows are all

He cannot wake up under such cir-

cumstance With an immediately clear con-

one idea really at work, and that as to what

he is doing out of bed. The first thing to do

While he is moving

thal some

and , and sw

wil,

is to slrike a li

S aring

around for matche

one has »roken into the house and moved

them from where he had laid them on going | to bed (which is always plausible enough Do

she hurls after him the following tonics:

hurry ! Mercy, how that rain is coming right |

? Mercy sake, you |

|

you find the matches ain't going to stumble round here looking when the water is drowning Go without a What a man I might have better got up in the first place, Well! (desparingly) let the things go to ruinif you area mind

matches, are

us

for you, oul? light, |

you are,

to. I'vesaid all I’m going to, an’! don’t care if the whole house gees to smash. You always would have your own way, an I

suppose you always will, an’ now you can

do as you please; but don’t you dare to open

mouth to me about it when the rain is l've talked an’ talked till I'm tired to lalk any We never couid keep anything decent, and we

(A

John Henry, are you or

done.

death, and [ shan’t more

never can; and so that’s the end of it. are you not going to shut down those win- Just then he finds the matches, and | He |

dows? breaks the discourse by striking a light.

lighted No sooner does ils glare fill the room for

the

than he immediately blows itout again Ile had forgotten that the windows were open and the brevity causes him t

obvious reasons.

of his night shirt. It almost

shiver when he thinks of his narrow escape. | He moves out into the other room with le He knows pretly we the

t » Whena + ining m climbing }

‘ mA au ! ere is a

ir int ise } ke it.

‘ ] = ni 1] \g t misse Lidl

t ts | t and thalis iust L ba $ ! We hav fallen | against mot l ght bu “dr ers of} ill pat and ul always received | the} it } Cé We have been dying peoj id have heard them

iffrm in the solemn stillness of that last | hour, that a rocking chair always hits aman | on the shin first. And when a man gets up |

shut down windows,

he never misses th It is the | rear end of one of the rockers that catches | it is a dreadful agony. Buthe rarely | He knows his audience too well. |

in the dead of night lo

> rocking chair.

him.

} A woman never falls over a rocking chair,

| | | |

} |

of some noble} pe peard three times as far as any other.— |

|=

‘Then those faithful fellows will dispatch |

| slice it up ready for

} |

does. But she can tell whether he has, by the | }

way he puts down the windows when he | finally A window (if we may be allowed the term) can

reaches them. rocking chair |

| Danbury News. |

: alia HOUSEHOLD HINTS. | enone . ee ee a eae . What You do, do Well.—This is a lesson | which cannot betoo earnestly impressed up- | on the young. Even the oldest may prolit by heedingit. No person of experience but knows the ill policy of poorly done work, end yet the world is full of botching. It is | labor going to its tasks slip-shod, caring not for permanent accomplishment, but only to | provide for the moment’s emergency. Half | the world’s work has to be mended almost | as soon as done, the halfsdoing and mending (producing at best only wretched, slovenly results) costing more than would with greater care and patience have done every~ thing well.

Green Peas.—Have the hands and the dishes clean ‘in shelling, so that the peas need not be washed before cooking. If the pods are very nice and sweet, they may be | cooked in the water before the peas are put in; but usua!ly this does not pay. Have the | peas a little more than even full of water, and cook them twenty minutes after they begin to boil. Asthe season advances, cook them longer. Besureto have them tender, but do not cook them after they are tender. If done too soon, let them stand hot without cooking. Serve warm full of juice, and if you wish for the full benefit of the sweet pea flavor, serve Without seasoning.

Much of the happiness of life depends upoy our outward demeanor. We have all ex, perienced the charm of gentle and courteous conduct ; we have all been drawn irresistibly to those who are obliging, affable, and sym- pathetic in their demeanor. The friendly | grasp, the warm welcome, the cherry tone, the encowuraging word, and respectful man- ner, bear no small share in creat.ng the joy of life; while the austere tone, the stern rebuke, the sharp and acrid remark, the coid and indifferent manner, the curt and disre- spectful air, the supercilious and scornful hearing, are responsible for more of human distress, despair and woe, than their tran- sient nature might seem to warrant.

Recipe for Preserving Meat.—As warm

weather has come at last, the following by a

writer in the New York Times will prove

both seasonable and serviceable. There is

no good reason why farmers and their fami-

lies shouid eat so much salt pork, leaving all

the fresh meat to the inhabitants of cities

and villages, when the following method will

keep it fresh for weeks even in the warmest

weather. [have tried it for several vears.

As soon as the animal heat is out of the meat, | cooking. Prepare a | large jar by scalding it well with hot salt | and water. Mix salt and pulverized salts | petre. Cover the bottom of the jar with a sprinkle of salt and pepper. Put down a layer of meat, sprinkle with salt and pepper, the same asif it was going to the tab!e, and continue in this manner until the jar is full. Folda cloth or towel and wet it in strong salt and water, in which a little of the salt- petre is dissolved, Press the cloth closely over the meat and set itin acool place. Be sure and press the cloth in tightly as each layer is removed, and your meat wil] keep for months. Then drain off all the blood that oozes from it. It will be necessary to change the cloth occasionally, or take it off and wash it first in cold water, then scald in salt and water as at first. In this way farmers can have fresh meat all the year round. I have kept beef that was killed the 12th of February till the 2lstofJune. Then I packed a large jar of veal in the same way during the dog days, and kept it six weeks,

| of the eternal charity, Ins spirit al

| figures should go up.’ ; pickle barrel, nipped a cucumber, and went

HADIAGS.

eee)

RANDOW

OM Ne ~

Kk

It is the one, alm ysl only, struggle of re- ligions life tg believe. In spite of all the seeming cruelties jn this life, in spite of all the clouded mystery in which God has |} shrouded himself, in spite ef pain, and the | stern aspect of human life, and the gathers ing of thicker darkaess 2nd more solemn silence round the soul as life goes on, simply to believe that God is

MONON Ne

desperate grip when the salt surf and the driving waves sweep over him and take the breath away, we sav that is the one fight of Christian life, compared with which all else is easy. When we believe that, human affliections are easy. [tis easy to be gener- ous and tolerant and benevolent, when we are sure of the heart of God, and when the little love of this life, and its coidnesses, and ils unrelurned = alter ti made to us by Father's love

, are more than the cerlainty that our But, when we lose ‘ that, though but for a moment, the hearth sours and men seem no longer worth yn ‘e magnified, and

uy

is Ours

rything, and still be bless~ niy 4e holds fast to that cons -t all drift like seaweed on life’s

“9

vicltion. L

ocean, so long as he reposes on the assurance

least can- not drift

Eggs and Financial Wisdom.—She said she’d take a dozen of Eggs, but while the grocer was counting them out she asked the price. He told her, and she shrieked— ‘Seventeen cents?’ * Yes, ma’am.’ ‘Why, that’s outrageous ‘Well, its hard times and everything is up.’ She sat down on a sugar barrel, sighed several times, and ask- ed ifeggs were likely to be lower or higher. ‘1 don’t claim to be a prophet,’ he replied, as he twisted a sheet of paper into the shape ofa tunnel,‘ but | dare say they'll be down to week, and perhaps go lower. is naturally depressed during July and Au- gust, is looking up a little. Our exports of gold are now equalled by our imports, The calling in of bonds puts more ready money

afioat, and capitalists are much more hope- | The crops are about

ful this week than last.

ready to move, navigation prospects are brighter, and public conlidence in financial | | measures is rapidly returning. One thing

moves around another you see, and though, | | as I said before, lam nota financier, and my

predictions are not entitled to ‘any great

| weight, it seems clear to me that eggs have |

got tocome down. A great current of eggs is setting toward this point from a dozen dif-

ferent directions, and even if the calling in |

of bonds and the sale of surplus gold don’t

| produce lower prices, J cannot see why

away wondering why her husband never

knew anything.

lMPORTATIONS., —

TYE SUBSCRIBERS beg to eall the attention of the Trade to the follow— ing list of

Superior Importations

moderate terms, in bond or duty paid :— Qr. Casks Whiskey, Cases do., Hhds. Brandy, [ Hennessey’s] Qr. Casks do., [ Pinnette Castillion | Casks do., emer) do. do,, [Jules Robins | Hhds. Gin, [Holland] Qr. Casks Gin do., Cases Old Tom Gin, do. Green Cases do.., Qr. Casks Sherry Wine, do. Port do.;

| Bbls. Bass & Co.’s Ale, in pts. and qts,

do. Guinness’s Extra Stout, do. Champagne Cider,

Cases Champagne,

do. Orange Syrup,

do. Lemon do.,

do. Lime Juice,

do. Raspberry Syrup,

do. Ginger Wine,

Bbls. Crosse & Blackwell’s Pickles, do. Barne’s do. Chests Congou Tea, warranted,

Half chests do. do. Boxes ao, do

Coleman’s Starch, Cases Pepper, Nixey’s Black Lead, Gross Blacking, Cans Mustard,

Bags Rice, Kegs Bi. earb. Sod a, Barrels Soda Crystal, Boxes Pipes, Boxes Soap, Half-boxes Soap,

Bags Bareelona Nuts, Bales Corks, Bales Wrapping Paper, Cases Assorted Toilet Soap, Bbls. Currants,

Boxes Valentia Ruaisins, Kegs Nails,

Kegs Black Paint,

do, White do. Brooma, Coils Manilla, Tons [ron —refined,

do. common,

Bbls. Floar. MACDONALD & OWEN.

No. 49 Water sireect. N. B.—To arrive and in Stoek, 1000 barrels Canada Flour. June 7, 1875.

SEESIDE HOTEL

Rustico Beach, P. E. |.,

Having been bought and thoroughly refitted and refurnished iv Wirst-class Style! @ Kirst-class Style! BY THE SUBSCRIBERS, WILL BE

RE-OPENED FOR THE SEASON, FROM IST JUNE TILL ASP OF OCTOBER NEXT,

Every Attention Given to Guests

—

TERMS MODERATE.

As a summer resort the *‘ Sea-side,” is unrivalled, A Salubrious and Bracing Atmosphere.

—_—_—_—

Excellent Sur? Bathing ! \ Ma

guificent View of the Bay and Ocean,

jest Fishing Grounds on North Shore, with boats for fishing and plea- sure constantly on hand. Coaches connect with every Train and from Charlottetown and Sam- merside, at the Hunter River Station, as below: Present Time Taste. — Trains leave Charlottetown at 630 a. m., and 2 p.m Returning leave Hunter River at 7.55 a. m.,

to

and 8.25 p.m. Leaves Summerside at 6 a& m., and 6 and 6.30 p.m Returning

leave Hunter River at 7.55 a. m.. and 3.40 p. m. Any change in Time will be duly ad- vertised. : JOHN NEWSON, W. A. HUTCHESON,

May 17, 1875.

$5 TO $2 PER DAY.—Agents Wan- ’ ted! All classes of work- ing people, of either sex, young or old, make more money at work for us in their spare moments, or all the time, than any- thing else. Particulars free. Post cards to States cost but two cents. Address G. STINSON & CO., Portland Maine.

LAIN JOB AND BOOK PRINTING done at the XAMINER OFFICE.

a

love, and to hold fast | | to that asa man holds on to a rock witha

ven, and life drags | A man may doubt |

sixteen and one-half cents in less than a | Trade, which |

She reached into the |

which they are prepared to supply, on |

8275 { com A De

NEW GOODS

AT THE

BRITISH WAREHOUSE,

C{ucen Square,

———-9 The Subscribers have received per Steam. er Prince Edward,

| A EW SUPPLY OF

iSritish & Moreign MERC! ANDIZE!

Suitable for tho Presont Season, which are now open for Inspection

and Sale, at the

Lowest Cash Prices.

PLEASE CALL AND EXAMINE.

Supplies continually received.

W. & A. BROWN.

May 24, 1875.

i“ it om “MONTREAL TO CASCUMPEC.

arrival— 500 bbls FLOUR, 100 bbls BREAD, 30 bus. Timothy SEED, | HEAT, (a good

100 bus. Seed article. ) 10 doz. BUCKETS, 10 doz. BROOMS, 600 Ibs. CLOVER SEED, 50 boxes assorted CRACKERS, 100 kegs NATLS, all sizes, 2 tons Rope, from Sth to 4 inch 6 cases HATS and CAPS, 10 do PAINTS, 20 do HAY RAKES, 20 doz, Haying TOOLS, 20 doz. SHOVELS, HOKS, Ke., 10 casks Paint OIL, 5 tons PAINT, 25 cases BOOTS and SHOES.

From England

>» Paint, Glass, Olive Oll, Tron, Steel,

12 cases shelf HARDWARE, 6000 bus. SALT,

| From United States.

_ BUCKETS, BROOMS, FISHING | GEAR,OIL CLOTHING,HOOKS, LINES & TWINES,— |

Putty

| Which, when received, will complete

one of the best stock of Goods in Alberton, and will be sold Cheap for Cash, | or approved eredit.

G. W. HOWLAN, | May 10, 1875.—tf

MONTREAL & ACADIAN —

ST ELAS HIP COM PANY.

§. 8, Venezia, $15 tons, Commander McMaster. (N.S. Valetta, $£3° tons, Commander Anderson,

S. 8. Roma, $13 tas, Commander Desjardines,

The above Steamships will fora a Weekly Tine

| BETWEEN

‘Montreal, Shcdiae, Charlotte- town and Picton, | leaving Montreal Thursday in each week. For Freight or passage apply to HYNDMAN BROS.,, Charlottetown. DAVID SHAW, Esq., Montreal, | May 17, 1875.—till 1st nov

Steamer ‘ Heather Belle.’

‘Summer Arrangement, 1s75.

!

MILE above Steamer will, after the open-

ing of the navigation, run for the Summer as follows :—

Leave Orwell Brush Wharf for Charlotte- town, touching at China Point and Halli- day’s Wharves, every Tuesday and Thurs- day morning at 7 o'clock, returning the same evenings. Leave Mount Stewart, East River for Charlottetown, touching at

| Charlottetown for Crapaud, weather per- | mitting, every Saturday, and on every | alternate Saturday will make a_ return trip, commencing Saturday, May 15th. JOHN HUGHES. May 3, 1875.—3m

#. E. ISLAND _ STEAMERS,

Until Further Notice,

' EAVE CHARLOTTETOWN for SUM- MERSIDE and SHEDIAC every Mon- day and Thursday morning at 3 o'clock, LEAVE SUMMERSIDE for SHEDIAC every day, on arrival of morning train from Charlottetown. LEAVE SHEDIAC for SUMMERSIDE every day, on arrival of morning train from St. John.

‘| LEAVE SUMMERSIDE for CHARLOTTE»

TOWN every Wednesday and Saturday evening, at 6 o'clock,

LEAVE CHARLOTTETOWN for PICTOU

| and HAWKESBURY every Monday and

_ ‘Thursday morning at 5 o’clock.

| LEAVE PICTOU for CHARLOTTETOWN

| every Wednesday and Saturday, on

| arrival of morning train from Halifax. |LEAVE PICTOU for HAWKESBURY | every Monday and Thursday, on arrival | of morning train from Halifax.

| LEAVE PICTOU for GEORGETOWN

| every Tuesday and Friday, on arrival of

| morning train from Halifax.

Leave GEORGETOWN for PICTOU and CHARLOTTETOWN every Wednesday and Saturday morning, at 5 o'clock.

Leave HAWKESBURY for PICTOU every Monday and Thursday, during night.

| Connect at Shediac with train tor St.

John, and there with Railways and Interna<

tional Stearmers for all places in United

States and Canada; at Pictou with trains

_ for Halifax and all places in Nova Scotia ;

at Hawkesbury with Coaches and Steamers for all places in Cape Breton; at Summers side and Georgetown with trains for Chars lottetown and all places in the Island. Acents.—Thomas Bolton, Halifax; Han. ford Bros., St. John; Noonan & Davis, Pictou; A. H. Sutherland, Hawkesbury,

F. W. HALES, See’y. Ch’town, May 15, 1875, .

|

"Renders. Wj EALED TENDERS will be received by ~ the Secretary of the Board of Works, till Saturday, the 31st July inst., noon, from parties willing tocontract with the Govern- ment to build a Block to Southport Wharf. Specification can be seen with the under- signed. ‘Two securities will be required to accompany each tender. Board will not be bound to accept lowest tender. RICHARD WEEKS,

8, P, Works.

July 19, 1875

Cranberry and Hickey’s wharves, every Wednesday and Friday mornings at | | o'clock, returning same evenings. Leave