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CHARLOTTETOWN, PRINCE

LSS

MDWARD ISLA

POSTAGE PREPAID

HE HXAMINER

HONDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 1876.

z s 5 ER RCS AS OR, RR TRONS TR Tg NE RT ER AA RIS SE ALL ET a aE TS NZ SEITE ST RIES OT RS UG AST ea eee - : ; ‘ at DITATAY AD Mayo w alain bins ool sien” Sedu we] saw me of love irrori i in | ’ y ay “om YON Y 4 b USLis } LAT DS, a aie R he Warland—him whom she knew so well, | he saw a type of love, mirroring itself in | THE CARLETON TRAGEDY.

Pxaniner

ad Del | af 1 and Pebusded every Monday forenoen,

RY Witlhiam ££... 4 otton,

OFFICE:

S.emawe f'eaan ane . Sean ne

WOTDL Mul vss eee Ohsned wo ve CU ee, RMS—Per Annum, Postaze prepaid by a '

= bia CLUB RA‘) F-S

rded to vear— ~ - & a 10,00 - 14.00

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vw time but . > r

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TO sor EVY

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ALMANAC FOR FEBRUARY, 1876

MOON 8 CHANGES.

i 2d day . 41m. Ss. W M ’ il im., p.t $.8.W. giarte l7t i 2} i. I N w } zon Yew M 25th day, 2 i-. a.m. mB. : SUN MOON G DAY'S 1Y WEEK ises ate en'tl u MH MM } H M 7 294 58 {oO "2 7g . 28 59 , & 2 3l 2 l l l 34 I 2 ] (2 37 5 l J ) 4 t 7A 8 i 42 $0 2 . 2 i 5 47 9g a4 52 ii 4 D4 52 7 t 1s 54 F i ] 3 Ll 55 57 ih 14 LS tia Fei 30 3 13's 12 10 2 ) 53 + 14} 8 1] 1 33 7 15 ’ >M 21 10 16 ¥ l 8 2 42 » 59 13 iii s é 22 L 52 § $9 15 i : . 24 ] a 19 S é 53 > 17 20 s la 27 2 ; 10 2b 21|/M » 89: & 27}; 8 80 29 22 | . 0 a > 18 $2 a3 Vv § } 2 0 3a v4 Thursday BS: 88: 6 45 ) 36 38 b ] a { 7 e 1 19 a Sau t 51 b 4 22 il 45 | 738 4 37; 7 33\M é M iay 47 od 7 52 ) 21 5 2 155 40 ~ 4 ») 50. 10 5a , "gene ay } : i4 ins { i RREN i, ' . { wT i ) S ie BREADSTUFFS Buckwheat Flour, per tb Q3 to 0.34 I r. p £0 to 7.00 tr, per 100 lhs 00 to 3.25 meal, per 100 lbs ».70 to 8.50 FISH | Codfis ' 50 to 5.00 | Herring per bb 87 to 6.49 | Mackerel | 7 1.48 to 0.72

Hemlock, 100 feet. 81 to 0.94 Ppiy do C2 to 2.40 Sprace do 17 to 1.30 Shingles. per M .11 to 2.48

POULTRY.

¢ 18 er pail $0.50 to 0.70 Ducks, (each 24 to 0.05 Fowls, (« hi “5 to 0.40 Partridges, (each 25 to 9.30 Turkeys each 89 to 1.75 eese (each #.50 to 0.60 MEAT |

Beef gmail p ces per ib $s .O8 to 0 14 Beef, per lb (by the quarter) .06 to 0.10} Ham, per lb 0.10 to 0.12 | Lam per q 1arter 00 to 0.00 | Lam> per lb 06 to 0.09 | Mutton, per |b 0.07 to 0.12 rork,(smali pieces) per ib 0.08 to 0.12 | Pork, per lb (by the carcass) 0.05$ to 0.074

0.04 to 0.08

Apples pe: } #.80 to 1.00 | barley per bushel 00 to 0.75 1

Butte sh) per 20 to 0.25 Butter per lb by t tub 16 to 0.19} Calfskins. per ib 06 to 0.12 Uheese (new milk) per Ib 14 to 0.16 heese, per Ib 0G to 0.08 VLiaver socd per ib 0.00 to 0.00 “gga, per doz 0.30 to 0.40 teen Peas, .00 to 0.00 429, per ton 8.00 te 1000

ile - des. per . per |

0.04 to 0.05

.25 to 0.32

7? 299 mee

MODY, pel :

nen's Weal per yal. ( 65 to 1.00

) per yd ( 35 to 0-48 1

Mon 8} ul

nh Mespun, (women's a

ty somespun Flannel, per yard ( o O.4¢ 4. rib : 12 to 0.16 _ per Dushe eb to 0.40 r eS, Der she] 15 to 0.382 . Mari y r i i U3 to 0.04 | ns 0.50 to 0.70

+ per ton 1.50 to 2.50

er 7 to 0.10

ix 00 to 0.16

L7 to O.25

ed

PApTr nee rant igps th. } WATERS RALLWAY HOTEL ! fTATE about thir irds from Tignish Siatior ving ample accommo- i for t and

permanent

Reasonable Rates,

IT SO; , e pat:

ae

age ofthe

JOHN CARTER.

DD sie vill

REVERE HOUSE,

AVJUINING THE POST OFI .

ALBERTON

tee -,

P. EB. 1.

ed up the above House + £000 style, and wishes to inform his friends, and the public gene- fay that he is prepared

) accomodate

Traisiget and Permanent oar ders,

Charges le

' 4liey ' . “UGseriber has fit

t

' moderate. Good Stabling on preliises '

RICHARD GLADNEY, |

AY Proprietor. | Derton, Sept. 12, 1876.

COOMSS & WORTH,

JOB PRINTARS & BOGKBINDERS "wis

Sk WATER SIRE Ss’, Cn a) $4 n+ ne > = hl Pt ten we ‘“ L ~ + WAADLOLLCLOWT: *-. Eis 481and.,

Jdan.17°76 ly

E. GC. NELSOR,

IMPORTER &

ADDRESS Pr. O. Box 808. Ch Oct. 25, 1875.—ly

MackENZIE & STUMBLES,

MACHINES

irlotte

town

‘Anctioneers, Commission Merchants,

AND

GENERAL AGENTS,

REPAIRER]

77 Xorth Side Queen Square,

Charlotetewn. - - P. &. Island. October 18, 1875 ly WILLIAM DODD, Commission Yerchaunt and LWeTrTiewee &

QUEEN SQUARE, ‘HARLOTTEYTOWVN. P. E. ISLAND

CARVELL BROS., AUSTIOHEERS,

Commission Merchants,

AND GENERAL AGENTS.

Lower Queen St. Ciislottetown, P. E.1

F. Mi. CAMPBELL, Cjenmerm: tlerchant

COMATIS=ION AGENT, AUCTIONEER & PROAER

TRINITY CORMER, GEORGETOWS, P, BLL. AGENT FOR THE

Standard iife

ot. 7. 1808. of

HASZARD BROS.,

Commission Merchants & Anctionears, FORWARDING, MANUFACTURERS,

AND

sé we

General Agents,

Gi WATER SIRE E:’?’, Opposite Merch Bank, oe ™ FT Charicttetown, - - - - REL J. E. Haszarp, Honacre Haszarp REFRRENCES M M il Messrs Messrs Henry I F Hon. D P. EB. I May

INSURANCE,

MARTIN

[NSURANCE COMPARY

OF

PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND. BOARD OF DIRECTORS:

Ropert LonaworThH, Esq.. President, fon. Jas, DUNCAN,

Hon. L. C. Owen,

Hon. A. A. McDonaLp,

tion. J. C- Porg,

THOMAS DRAHAN, Esq.,

GEORGE en, Esq.

taken daily at their office,

ywer Water MALES, Secrvetay.

r

1875—ly

wv be aeenn yrge and L

FW town, March 22,

ST. LAWRENCE

Great Ue

Ci’

PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND.

Authorized Capital, - - $300,000. |

. . . ll Subscribed Capital, - 143,950. BOARD OF DIRECTORS :

An arBpaLp Kunnepy, President.

Jo.N F. ROBARTSON, ARTEMAS LORD, PrP. W. UYepMAN, HaALP: B. Prakn, THO ; Mork GE: a GWORTH, Risk con da t their office, Exchange Buildiuz FREDERICK W. HYNDMAN,

Ch’town, March 22, 1873.—ly Secrelary.

IRMAPERIAL Fire [usuranee Company

OF LONDON.

Subseribed & invested Capital £AVGS.OCOO “te.

The ED STAN DING, guarantees perfect security and Prompt Payment of Loss 3

DETACHED DWELLINGS insured for | a single exclamation he tore away the cov.

Ove. Two, or Three Years on SPE- CIALLY ADVANTAGEOUS TERMS.

FEATON T. VEWBERY,

AGENT. Jan. 13, 1874. ly

THE LIVERPOOL & AND CLOoBE

ASURAACE GHUPAM

Fire AND LIFE.

—————

Invested Funds, Ist Jan’y., 1874, $21,628,356 | from her, that she might send it to him,as

Deposited with Receiver Gener- al of Canada, Other Investments in Dominion of Canada, FAIK RATES Prompt & Liberal Settl

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

Que, Thiec or more years,

At Reduced Kates, Otfice—Great George Street, Charlotte- zB. i.

R. &. FITZGERALD, Agent Ch’town, July 27, 1874.—6m

town, P.

jnsurance Cé.|

Hear, through night’s sad wonder. Over the river’s swell, | Thank Ged for the song triumphant: Ail—all is right, all is well! j

> pParToreyn

LATER: TLR * : a oe er MARCUS WARLAND; | } on wits nial ‘ : | |OR, THE LONG MOSS SPRING. |

j

|

|

} and strength of the weapons with which he

THE CHRISTIAN’S SONG. iny soul! cease thy 1 useless ta ar away : Grief and memory intervening, Make a wreath too dark to lay On the graves of those who've perished. Deeply loved and fordly cherished Froin thy childhood’s orphaned day.

e of earth’s dark sorrows, Otits puny, fretfal cares ; Phink of all tl

all the bright te-morrows Which the heavenly futsre bears ; Phink upon the olden story

esus, King of glory, Vho Himse!f our

burden shares

Sing, O soul, the simple beauty

Or their lives who cherished thine, }; One in loving, pauient duty, Working out the will divine. lempest-tossed on life’s dim ocean, v of ts ceaseless motion, ey saw G is great stars Shine \ he waves and storm were breasted,

Lil earthly working done,

Handin hand the y calmly rested,

Waitin» till the rising sun

Of Heaven’s bright eternal morning, ;

Should, o’er earthly shadows dawning,

Prove the new, glad day begun

First she passed, t!

lhrough the p Like sine a sigh her soul We cou ad

Angel f

=

itle-hearted, the dawn

u pleasant dream departed,

I rtals of

Was gone.

almost see the bending her soul attending,

Waiting near to bear her on.

ris,

Like the last lone leaflet clinging, lo a gray and wind-swept tree,

Yet, with wind and breezes singing

os

Songs of praise and majesty.

He, the strong soui, sat communipy With the Lord, his heart attuning

‘J e melodies to be.

| How he thought ofher sweet singing

| With the dear friends gone before! Heard in dreams their voices ringing On the everlasting shore. Soon, he cried, } slumber, Ishali pass to join the number; We shall meet to part no more.

through death’s white

|

=

From the burden of his years, Saw the messenger, swift winging

Through the border land of tears; | Saw—ah, who can tell the story? Not for ¢ arthly eyes the glory,

Phat

on, indeed, his spirit springing

¢

} ‘ae the S last Jears,

° coh } oO ersilhes e soul

|} But his smile—the light of Heaven, Shining through the mystic vei his to us for comfort given,

All Hail!” like muste falling .on a night appalling ‘All is right—all is well.”

| Like an angel's sweet * | And his words,

Sweetly

Oh, ‘tis an olden story; Oh, ’tis an old, dear song!

Old as the grace and glory

| about him as a shield and a charm

rhe pallor of his face became suffused with deepening crimson; his icy fingers tingled with a burning sensation loo nobly self-

reliant himself to admit of the existence of not toler

over another-—and that other one whom he

jealousy, he could ite its dominion

?

believed lifted high above the little foibles |

of her sex. He sat down, and leaning his

ep ; . head on his hands, tried to think calmly of

the rashness and injustice of which Florence

| had been guilty, and his meditations termi. | clearest moments ;

nated ina feeling of tenderness and corn- passion for her strange delusion, He blam- | ed, he pitied, but he loved her still.

dissipate the error, and restore her lost con- fidence, With a lofty consciousness of his own unwavering constancy, and a generous

| forgiveness of the rash impulse, for which

| : ar fn 4 he doubted not she was «yen now upbraid-{ —to be near you once mere ?”

| ing herself, he took his pen, and wrote as they only write, has observed, ‘dip their pen in their own | hearts,’ lle gave a brief history of his oblis

der which he gave her the token she had so mysteriously obtained. | beautiful and holy confidence of their past

He dwelt or the

| intercourse; the purity and depth of her |

| love; and besought her to beware of the influence of that serpent passioa, which poisoneth like an asp, and stinget’ like an |adder. After a simple statement of facts, and an eloquent appeal to her truth

| sensibility, he asked her if | her renunciation, and latter put in the mail, and Marcus tried to forget

repeated her de» mands. The was written, sealed, it, and give his sole attention to the human | life that hung on the result of his investi-

gations. He locked the packet and the

locket in his cabinet, that he might not be | reminded of the weakness of L’Eclair. He saw the ruby ring sparkling on the floor, and stooping down and picking it up, plac- AS he did so, his eyes fell on the ruby gem which Mrs. Bellamy had put vu hic finger when he

ed that also with the offending chain.

vas about to be exposed to the temptations of a college-life. He went back still further and thought of the mo- ment when she had kissed his brow in the

little cabin on the banks of the Chattahoo- hee. From that moment to the present | i : | hour, her love which had known no vari-

| ebleness nor change, had been round and

the | young man, raising the sacred talisman to

‘No voluntary act of mine,’ thought

and |

' tion disfigures the image it reflects. A few | words of explanation from his pen would | | and Katy flew into his arms.

{le lives—he is better,’ she cried, ‘but

{dear brether, how I have longed to see you

|

who, as a beautiful writer |

} | |

|

|

| ness

| |

she adhered to |

| } | |

Phat to The Cross belong | his lips, has ever paled the lustre of this

! . r a) ing ) aus a blusk of sh

| And ne’era saint goes over glowing gem, or caused -” blush of shame Into the holy land on the cheek of my beloved benefactress. |

ver

strand,

But those who sadly h

Weeping upon the

CHAPTER XIV. | If almost unexampled successes could Marcus

Warland was in danger of inordinate self-

produc? elation and vain: glory

Circumstences had favoured in a remarkable manner his opening career. | Theft, forgery and murder seemed to have made the scene of his labours their heads | quarters, so that the young champion of the | majesty of the law might test the keenness

esteem.

He had that

armed himself for his defence

seasame to the caverns of mind—that golden key to the chamber of the heart— native eloquence, the giftof God

}

e,oquence,

not man. ’

‘liis was the glorious burst of winged

words,’ that bear on their rush the lighten-

ing throng. Wis was the burning glance

that, like a living coal from the altar, kindl-

|

}ed the spirits of his listners, and his the

Marine Insurance 50.

| packet was brought to him.

| ous seals by which it was secured

| and for ever, free, | return your written

{

’ ate restoration of my own.

| He read this brief, but explicit note, ibove Office being of UNDOUBT- | several times before be opened the second | envelope,

LOABON Mulatto had never entered his mind before,

162,800 |

367,091 | souled Florence was jealous of the poor, too

ements often smoothed with her soft hand, when

persuasive lip that distilled the honey of Hy-

bal’s scented fields. He knew his power, | and was conscious that the time was fast | approaching when he could offer to Fior- | ence a name of which even her proud un- | cle would be proud.

It was while seated, one afternoon, in his office, trying to clench some fact which

would bear strongly on the case, a large

‘ From whom ?’ It was not known. The messenger was gone, without waitirg for'a reply. He res cognised tie hand-writing of Delaval on the covering, and hastily broke the numer- There was an inner covering, but between that and the cuter envelope was a note, subscribed by the hand of Florence, which he eagerly unfolded, It contained but these few lines ‘Marcus Warland—Blushing for the in fatuation from wrich I am now henceforth

and given pledges,and demaz -i the immedi-

Florence Delaval.

He felt every word burning in the central fires of his heart. His hands | were cold, his face colourless, but without

| ering from his letters, and the golden chain the locket with the golden hair, and the

ruby ring fell at his feet. He took up the | chain and recognised his parting gift to the | gentle Rosa. He was bewildered, amazed. | How come it in the possession of Florence ? | The identity of Florence with the young

| and it was not strange that it did not occur to him at this moment. But there wasa | thought, a flashing one, that seemed to | throw light on the inexpiicable insult he | had just received. Florence, by some

means, had come in contact with Rosa, and | learned the history of his token of grati- | tude, so poor, so small, for a devotion so | entire, adebt so large. She had taken it {an explanation of her renunciation of him. | Yes! it was evident that the proud, higa- | sensitive mulatto, who had humbly craved | lock of his hair, that hair which she had so

| it lay moistened with the dew of sufferings. |The heiress of Wood Lawn considered it a _ violation of her rights, and she had discard. | ed the lover whose gratitude to a menial resembled the demonstration of love, The | |

mystery was thus explained: but how had the mighty fallen; how had the fine gold become dim! Florence suspected him of the basest treachery; the most degrading

pip ‘ep Oh ! misguided

my own vanished dream of perfection.’

| unopened letter dropped from the envelope

| formed

L’Eclair ! I could mourn }

in dust and ashes over thy broken trust and

With an His

At length the Jetter arrived.

agitated hand he baoke the seal. own

his own heart thrown back into his face ! Never had the countenance of Marcus worn such an expression before. Never but once had sucha whirlwind of passion raged in his kosom: and that was when the blacks bearded speculator raised his whip over his head, while he was defending Milly from | his lawless clutches. Tearing the letter into a thousand p.eces, he threw the frag- ments from the window to the four winds , of heayen,and exclaimed, ‘Thus do! render from my bosom every trace of my boyhood’s | |

folly and youth’s delusion! Truth, justice, humanity, I am henceforth yours. | devote the strength of my manhood, my

To you

powers of mind, body, and soul. pour the oblation of my

On your sacred altars I heart's blood, I lay the offering of my cruci- fied affections.’

It seemed that all the elements the being of Marcus were to pass through the refiner’s fire. About a week | afterwards a letter from Katy arrived, an- nouncing the dangerous illness of their fa-~ ther. In less than an hour he was on his way to Hickory Iiill, over whose shades a shade deeper than the forest gloom was now hovering.

When Marcus was about half-way on his sad and solitary journey, he met avery ele~ gant equipage, which was accompanied by a gentleman on horseback. So absorbed was he by his meditations, he came upon them before he was aware of their approach ;

but at one glance he recognised the coal-

| he stood looking at the altered but placid

| appeared better and stronger, was able to

as black was resting. was exchanged between the two haughty equestrians. Marcus felt the gathering over his own face. Leaning back in the carriage, with listless langour, her arms folded in a lace shawl, he had a glimpse of Florence. Raising her eyes dreamily, as the shadow of the horseman fell on the carriage window, she beheld Marcus Warland, and a quick vibration of light, cold and dazzling as the night~gleam of the aurora borealis, passed over the fea- tures. They passed each other thus— they, whose hearts at their last parting throbbed against each other with mutual pulsations, whose lips exchanged the most sacred pledge of love and faith. How estranged, how altered now! Could that pale, cold, icy-looking girl be the bright, impassioned L’Eclair ?— that haughty, stormy browed young man, the warm-hearted and impuls sive Delaval? Was he indeed Marcus Warland ? and was he hastening to perhaps a dying parent? This last interrogation subdued his rebellious thoughts. Death! the great peace~maker—Death! the stern As its shadow glided

darkness

rebuker of passion. on before him, chill and mournful, all pre- sent interests were lost in its awful eclipse. A few short years, and those resplendent eyes, whose altered glance had just now fills ed him with such anguish and indignation, would be rayless and closed; those once | love-breathing, now disdainful lips, clay- cold and wan. Youth, beauty,and love— what were they but a dream? What was life itself but a dream—the dream of a fev~ erish, troubled sleep, from which the soul would awake in the morning light of an eternal day? Continuing his journey through the night, Marcus rode on undera

rene and solemn splendour. A thousand times had he gazed on its unearthly beauty and felt the dominant passion of the hour glorified by its influence. A thousand times had the tide of his heart swelled to over. flowing, beneath its sweet, celestial attrac- tion. Sometimes when he saw it riding at anchor on the azure waves Of heaven, like a ship with silver sails and majestic motion

unswerving in its course. Again, when it rose behind an argent cloud, leaning soft-

inconsistency; — suspected him, Marous

black eyes of Delaval,on whose brow a cloud | No sign of greeting | her

| my father’s sufferings.

|

i

}

i |

he beheld an image of his own ambition, so_

ty i | gations to Rosa, and the circumstences un- | look upon.

some pure transparent heart. Now, as he gized up to the beautiful mirror of the sun )

’ so high and lonely in the dark blue

zenith of midnight, it was to bim an emblem

shining

of faith, reflecting tothe pi.zrim of time, |

through the nightshade of sorrow and care, Oh! could | Florence but look into the heart she so deeply yet innocently wronged! But here we see through a glass darkly, even in our and when the mirror is | shivered by passion, what frightful distor-

another and heavenlier home,

‘ My father !’ were the only words he ut- tered, when he arrived at Bellamy Place,

still weak and suftering. Oh! Marcus,dear

Katy was always pale, and her eyes hada pensive expression, when unilluminated by asmile; but her paleness was that uf we sweet and tair to Now her cheek had a sickly pallor, and her countenance was very sad, | Was it filial anxiety alone that caused this ? or was it blended with some secret grief?

white rose in its bloom,

He thought of the dark-browed Delaval and felt a conviction that his sister’s happiness Never had he loved her with such heartaching tender.

was wrecked as well as his own,

‘My Katy, my darling, my own sweet, precious sister,’ he cried, kissing her colo- urless cheek. Mrs. Bellamy, my more than mother ! were round him, her mild, benignant countenance emanat-

ing unspeakable love.

Her arms too

\ir. Bellamy greet- . ing him with all the affection of a father | and alll the pride of a man. He was proud of the glorious boy he had reared, for his fame had gone abroad into the land,

‘My father!’ again repeated Marcus, grasping Mr, Bellamy’s hand. ‘Is he re~ Is his life in danger ?’

‘ There is danger,’ answered Mr. Bellamy, ‘hut thero is hope also; sO Doctor Mann. ing says, who never deludes his friends,’

ally better ?

Katy led her brother to the room where their father lay, at whose bedside Milly was seated, in her ancient costume, waving the feathers of minglec green, gold, and purple over the head of her master. He was asleep, and their gentle entrance did not awake him. Milly could scarcely re- | press a loud cry of joy at beholding him, but she did, though the big drops burst from her eyes and rolled down her face. Holding the faithful creature’s hand in his, |

He had been suffers disease, which had

features of his father, ing from a lingering gradually reduced his strength. without giving him acute pain, and though he was pale and emaciated, there was a peacefuls ness, there was even a smile on his sleep- ing countenance that was soothing to look, upon.

There is cert

tainly a magnetism in the eye

which the spirit feels even through the pri- son-bars of sleep. Warland awoke, while his son was gazing sadly, silently upon him, Mar- inclosure, and laid his

cheek against his father’s.

and streatched out his feeble arms. cus bent to their 4 My son,’ said

this.

the invalid,’ I bless God | feared we never would meet | again in this world.’

for

‘Many happy meetings, store for us yet, my father,’

I trust, are in answered Mar-

|A VERMCT or ‘WILFUL ORDER’ | O'’NEILL,— MR. FOTHERGIL’S THE MURDER—SOME OF THR THREATS. (From the $t. John News.) | The second act in the Carleton tragedy | has concluded, and a Coroner's inquest on | the body of the murdered woman has re- sulted in a verdict of ‘ Wilful Murder’ against Thomas O'Neill, who on lhursday killed his mother-in-law and made a des_ | parate effort to put an end to his father. | in-law’s life.

AGAINST ACCOUNT OF PRISONER'S

JOHN FOTHERGILL’S ACCOUNT OF THE MURDER OF HIS WIFE,

Mr. Fothergill, who was stabbed by 0’- Neill immediatly after the latter had kill- ed the old lady, is not out of danger. His story,as told at the inquest,adds rew horror to the terrible affair, and none can read the evidence without being thrilled at the cool- ness with which the fiendish work was per-

formed At the inquest John Fothergill | Tho dcecased Bridget Vother gill

About 3 o'clock yesterday | afternoon, Thomas O'Neill, my son-in-law, | threw wide open the door of my room There was nobody in the room at the time | but my wife and myself. As he entered the room he let a big oath out of him. My wife was sitting at the side of the stove |

testifies : was my wile.

mending her apron I was sitting on the table

making a coat. O'Neill ran over to where | my wife sas sitting and stabbed her in the

neck. My wife hollered out, and | looks | ed around and said, ‘ For God's sake,O Neill

what are you doing?’ I jumped off the

the table to rescue her, and he stabbed me. | 1 got three stabs,—the first on the leftarm, the second in the leftside, the third in the rightarm, Iranoutto see and get the | policeman for him. O'Neill ran out, and I | never saw him again until the policeman brought himin. When ('Neill was stab- bing me, my wife ran out on the sidewalk end dropped dead, She minute from the time she was stabbed. A young man went for a policeman,

| | | lived about a |

house. O'Neill said nothing at either time | he was in the house. Dr, White dressed | my wounds. I don’t know any reason for the deed. We gave him no reason. ed

|

weapon used by O'Neill appeared to have a cross-handle,was seven or eight inches long and seemed to be a daggar. | saw it plain- ly. The point of the blade tapered off, and was abouta half aninch wide. It did not look like a butcher's knife. I heard that | he borrowed a knife from a man named Simonds, who keeps a public house and | butcher shop at the Marsh Bridge. He was | stopping about there. THE INQUEST RESUMED—O'NBILL BROUGHT INTO | THE JURY ROOM,

In the afternoon, when the jury had ans- wered to their names, Coroner Earle direct« ed that O'Neill be brought from jail into | the presence of the jury. Hearing this

| order, Mrs. Sarah McKenna, a daughter of

the murdered woman, who had been sum- moned as a witness, fainted, and when she recovered her senses she appealed to her friends to request the Cororer not to oblige | her to look at O'Neill. brought in in charge of Policeman Walker, and Constables Power and Buchanan. He | He appeared perfectly cool, but that care less look whicna he wore after his arrest on Thursday, was not to be seen, He was given a seat at the newspaper reporter's |

The latter was |

cus, with a quivering lip. lis heart had |

less hope than his words.

‘Yes, Marcus, I trust so too,’ cried Wars | - ° { land, raising his eyes to heaven. ‘he return of his son seemed to renovate his exhausted system, and for a few days he

sit up in bed, supported by pillows, and to converse without much apparent fatigue. | The presence of Marcus was the balm oi Gilead to his soul, and he had a king Phy- sician near.

Mr. Warland slept. Aunt Milly, as usual presided over his slumbers. Marcus took the hand of Katy, and drew it through his arm.

‘ Let us walk,’ said he, going out into the open ‘You look pale, dear Katy. Such close confinement does not agree with you,’

air.

‘It is not that, brother,’ she answered, with a sigh. They walked under the shade of the hickories, and sat down ona little bench Hannibal had made expressly for

‘What is it then, my sister? Do you carry in your bosom a wounded heart?’ He accented unconsciously on the ‘ you.’ Katy looked at him through her long lashes.

‘I received about a week ago,’ she said, ‘a letter from Delaval, so strange, so inex- plicable—I know not what to think of it. It has made me very unhippy.’

‘Will you show it to me, Katy ?’

‘I fear—I dread. He speaks of you in such a—manner—I can’t comprehend it.’

‘I ought to see it. | ought to know how he speaks of me, Katy. Much may depend upon it.’

Katy trembled. Her lips turned as pale as her cheeks. Marcus put lis arm around her.

‘ Fear not, sweet sister,’ said he, ‘I will do nothing to add to your unhappiness what- ever he may say. Could I think of deeds of violence while our father lies languish-~ ing on that sick bed ?’

‘No, indeed. I know you could not. But, oh Marcus! you cannot conceive how wretched I have felt to think that letter should cause me more unhappiness than all How wicked, how selfish Lam! yet I think it is what he says of you makes me wretched. I wil get the letter,’ she added, going into the house, with astep very different from her usual light footfall. She soon returned. ard placed it in his outstretched hand. Its brief and in- coherent contents were these -

table. He was kept handcuffed the whole | time. THE PRISONER'S THREATS, CROCODILE TEARS AND

OATHS,

Although perfecily exhausted from grief, Mrs.Sarah McKenna was got to the witness | stand. She testified as follows

I have not been to Carleton since the | murder happened, and have not seen the dead body of my mother. I live in the city and lama married woman. I know the prisoner. Hecalled himself Tuomas O'Neill Ife was married to my sister in the City of | Boston. I saw him there about five years ago—about a year «after they were married. |

!

O'Neill came into my house at the Marsh | about five o’clock on Wednesday afternoon last. ile talked pleasantly and looked | nice, After talking to me about my child | and patting it on the head, he asked when | I had seen Margaret, his wife. | replied | that I did not know when or where she | He said that a woman living nest door to my mother, in Carleton, had told him that his wife was stopping with me. In reply tomy question, ‘ Who is the wo- man?’ he said it was Mrs. Keeffe. He argued that Margaret was .n my house. I told him to search the house for himself. This he refused todo. but he looked iato the front room when | opened the door, He again asked me about his wife, and [ said, ‘When you were taking her for your | wife, you did not consult me.’ He com- plained that he had no one to consult then and he pulled out his handkerchief and pretended to cry. I said, ‘Thomas them are crocodile tears ; and when he took the handkerchief down, his eyes were dry. He said he would go to the Poor House. I had said his wife might have been there for alll knew. Heleft my house at twenty minutes to six o'clock, saying be was going tothe Poor House. He returned at 2)

was,

could not have been to the Poor House He said he was, declaring I repeated

since he left. ‘so help my Jesus!’ as proof.

there. book I imagined—out of his pocket, and kissed it, saying, there.’ I said to him I would sooner have would talk that way. He then said, ‘SARAH, THERE WILL BE LIVES LOST

over this.’ I] did not nor do not now know what he had reference to. I said, ‘O'Neill, you look out for yours, and I'll look out for mine.’ He replied, ‘Sirah, don’t m nd;

‘Katy—I love you better than life, you knowl do. From the first moment! saw you to this—this dark and troubled one— you have been the polar star of my soul. Every vision of future happiness has been inspired by you. And now, something dreadful has come between us. Something

midnight moon, his spirit bathed in its se- that | fear will destroy the happiness of

all. Your brother, Katy, whom I so loved the hierarchs of heaven, so much he seem- ed lifted above his kind; he, the friend and brother of my soul, has insulted my sister beyond forgiveness or remedy. With un~ exampled ingratitude, and matchless cruel- ty, he has repaid a love passing the love of woman. Katy, 1 love, ladore you. I shall never cause you todoso. Butas long as one spark of vitality burns in my being, I must dispise your brother. George Delaval,

The Boston Daily News has gone under,

ly over to gaze upon its image in some lim- and so have the $200,000 sunk in the effors pid wave that seemed panting to receive it, ‘ to establish it,

I dont mean you or your husband.’ Ue then went out.

'on Thursday afternoon, about half-past two

‘o'clock. Idid not hear him coming up

| stairs, He gave aslight knock and on en-

tering sat down in 4 chair.

‘So help my God I was |