ee eee ne ee

SMP On ee reais eae

VOL. XXV. CHARLOTTETOWN, PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND, MONDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1874. _

Ma fi CLOS

ING AND ARRIVAL OF MAILS,

POST OFFICE, CHARLOTTETOWN, P. E. ISLAND, AFTER FRIDAY, {9th DECEMBER.

4 S { ms] DUI ( ) ? About Tu N . New B swich I t t., & p.? und Saturd t si \ incertain : . Abo fuesday the 30th, and N ery second every alternate ‘Tuesday x ! t i y af ifterwards ? ; ~ J ~ t ~ ‘ W é u ; es ’ Sunday exce ] ‘ m. er uy ; . ) Sund excepted, 2 . s \ m ‘ ) S sday, I ay, 2 ] ‘ : it S 2 urs Wednesday. Saturday, 7 p.m & 5 s ) Wednesday, Saturday, 2 p.m, B at \ , t ie { 1La™M Ww oie ivy. Monday, Weunesday. Friday, ae ‘ cy, | k k ? . sday, Friday, 9 a. m, & 5 Pis ; Friday, 10 a. 1 X& 5 f an hour previous to the closing tage and registration “ . N } I s City delivery, must, in all bli Ww ! 4, A. MACDONALD, Postmaster.

Properties for Sale.

FOR SALE. ere of 100 acres for Sale, frontiag on VOCILIONE ER &€ BPROKRER the HILLSBOROUGH RIVER, about : | 19 miles up said River, called PORTAGE,

Business Cards.

F.M. CAMPBELL.

GENERAL MERCHANT

COMMISSION AGENT. |

TRINITY CORMER, GEORGETOWY. P. ELI In front are good Oyster Beds,and a quantity of Mussel and Oyster Mud that will enrich NT FOR THI the soil, Also alarge MARSH. It is other- ” - . wise wel! situated. Mandard Life Insurance Ce. Alse,a Saw, Lath, and Shingle MILL,

having a large Circular Saw for Edging, cutting Scantling, and other purposes, be- sides other Saws, with about 50 acres Land, f |

HERMANS & SON,

sides what is under water. 134 miles from Charlottetown, and 5 chains from the tailroad It is one of the best Mil's on he Island Yall Hangers —_— Tin on ay Also, a BRICK H IUSE and SHOP, 22} Del-HdNGELS, GUN aid TH-SwM{{Ng, | miter trom Charlottetown, and about 6 or 8 : ichains from @ railroad station There will IC EEN STREET, be sold from 10 to 50 acres of land with it. | For further particulars apply to

ISITE WATSON’S DRI'G STORE

sh JOHN ARCHIBALD McDONALD. BR + 1 ‘ . ‘ ) 4 ab vai vatvonve ested Valuable Business Stand a a3 T . v and ask for a ¢ for Sale. "ho Snhearihe ili ee iW ive te A ment Asortment of Tke Sa a Dt wn ae . Sale, s Store and Dweling use, with other % P N ‘a? al — ‘ : TINY (RE, Kitt i! EN i TENSIL outs bulidings, situated at Cardigan ade &e Ke Bridge, about + chains from Railroad ‘ SCe. &C. eat Ci ee he Station. As this is one of the finest and Shi. ORDERS 1@ above BUSINESS | most conveinent business stands on the aye adenine ; Island, parties desirous of engaging io Hav ¥ made large purchases in the cs i. M4 ¢ : t Ma “i j « | Merchantile Business, will find it to their ” , . o uch as advantage to cull apd examine, before Gas Fitting, Water Closets, | purchosing elsewhere. ' : Bel! Fittings, &.. 4c., Alvo, 15 Building Lots, situated within : 5 : 1 mile of the Bridge, and suitable stands am prepared to SELL THEM at RATES| >. 01: ) shee of business a AS LOW AS CAN BE HAD IN THE city, | $F !! bras vee of business. There is also nnd silk Ot Chess ou te 0 ie tyle | 5 water lots, fronting on Cardigan River Toag a] «we say, that alljand only a few yards from the Bridge. os ‘ PHiS BRANCa OF OUR BUSI | These Lots will be sold to suit intending A Lot of First Class WATER COOLERS on | POFSBarcre- ia a cy i Also. saw, lath and shingle mil!, having Te Y kinds of , >? i . roe re for e1 o ll kinds SAYER’S CRYSTAL BLUE, |* larger circular for cutting all kinds 0 ee pee Lumber, besides other Saws, with about a s ¢ eaper than ver | 150 seres of Frechold Land, 2 miles from Nw ‘ardigen Bridge. t Subseriber intends to wind up

As the Subscriber JOSEPH CREAM ER bit isness, for the preseot, he requesis rink all parties indebted to him by Note of Physician & Sur geon, Hand, Book A ; unt, or otberwise, to 25 (Freat ‘ f Hot settle spective accounts on or before All sums remaining late will be handed over

JAMES BRENAN, | use, Sign, and Carriag: an : = Ht Paner Hanger & Glazier | E1OViNGIaI Insarance Co, of Canada, SOURIS WEST, | For Fire & Marine Insurance. —_———— iiead Office. Toronto, Ontario

DIRECCORS:

‘HUGH L. McDONALD. tes sridg*, June 10, 1873. ynron i

Giliui,

Jaly 7, 1 iy I Cameron, D.C.L., Q. M_P H ' : vy a I Mos _- wil y tay Tt ef NOT)! is Moffatt, Esq. WILLIAM DODD, -Preside . . i f oT At} & asseis Commission Merchant and ers. Totont UCTIONEER ell, Esy., Pre'dt Toronto Savings , Y EN SQUAKE, Mes \. R. WeMaster a7 ‘N et I ND { . Mex CARVELL BROTHERS, | . ee - a . M & Co. & AU LION: EIS, ‘ 4 l Seacel Sn i Commission Merchants, | | Goderich, ‘ND ; rt | Ex t ‘» ' ' ~ GENERAL AGENT, ' ~ 30,000 (nual Income $250,000. BANK BUILDING, QUEEN STREET, 2. coe "C7 é an P. &. Is! : Amount paid for Fire Claims in the past

“ ars, _- $709,146 VULCAN FOUNDRY * paid t } ar for Fire Claims, $ $7,373

GG eonrtaGab Town. B q F Mari tine Pro- : — 104 6 St., Halifax, N.S. \ y CAST : ® 5 ho t. ANDREWS, I Manage! Cash Pata \ i ( ttetown, THOS. ALLEY.

x j ‘ +. if

BD & Co,

corgeows Gt Lawrence Marine Insurance Co, Beeeee BOCSts rue wr:

LEASANTLY SIT

RD ISLAND,

PRESIDENT :

North Side King’s Square, ARCHIBALD KENNEDY, ESQUIRE, St. John, - - - New Brunswick. ow ean tL oT ; T? : mene Te TtsO quire, J H. RUSSEL, PROPRIETOR. Thomas Foley, ‘ Artemas Lord, “ J. S. Carvell, “ John Gillan “

P. W. Hyndman,

r) TrHN { | Vk NG, | PRINTING. | Risks taken daily, at their office Ex.

| CHANG BUILDING

liaving Improved FRED.

W. HYNDMAN. Secretary. Wh'town, March 17, 1873

Power & Gordon Presses, | ~~~

REMOVAL. SMALLWOOD & BOVYER. |

from their Olid Stand oa

The Newest Styles of Type, Kent Street, to their NEW MACHINE SHOP AT HEAD | We are prepare » all kinds « OF QUEEN STREET. Where with increased facilities, they will be enabled t their business more ex- B * i It psive! 00K & FANCY JOB PRINTING They are prepared to manufacture Rotary Saw Mills, improve elt-acting Shingle i Machines, Lath Cutters, Cross-Cutting Mach- en the Lowest Terma, at Ue j ines, Cirenlar Saw Spindles, Threshing Mills,

Saws, Boring Machines, &c.

. 7 | Paoners, Jig

| iid and Wood Turning, aud general machine EXAMINER OFFICE. a wa. 0 OU

September 12, 1873.

POETRY.

NN he a I a a a ( Writt n for the E TY ) THE TOMB OF SHELLEY.

By Gro. C. Hurcuison.

shore there stood a group of men, g on a newly kindled pile,

‘ene alone, the eager eye might ken— Except, perhaps, a solitary isle Or great rock far seated in the sea,

er which the waters break in their tempest- |

ous glee | And near the trunk of an old withered tree, — Where loud the murmuring of the wind is heard Where oft the soul for solitude would flee, = : ;

rreat and gifted poet was interr " 1

There also stood near the deserted spot, Covered with reeds, a solitary cot,—

Where seldom human footsteps doth intrude, Where hea s ever the unceasing roar

Ot breaking billows ; as the tempests rude, Dash the high waves upon some rocky shore,

The ent haunt of pumerous creatures wild,

Scenes which could please but a poetic child.

freq req

some miles, of sight within the reach A vessel lay, the storm that nobly braves, Which could be seen by those upon the beach, Steering her course through the white crest- ed waves, [talian Alps, and the wide ocean blue, A scene presenting picturesque to view.

Distant

But the chiefmourner* from the crowd among Stood near the blaze in a dejected mood, One who had long in Grecian favour sung— A mournful mind that courted solitude— Preferred the billows and dark forest glen, To the loud hum and busy haunts of men.

je -And thus they stood, the tresh sea-breeze in- haling, — : Tongues silent as the visions of a dream In that dread silence round the coast prevail- ing, Was heard the curlew’s solitary scream, Which hovered round the beach, in reach of sight, And round the pile did wing its eager flight

One. te

a 0, Was there, strange, With eyes downcast, as in deep sorrow bent, eyes I On one hand was the Al; 8 extensive range,

On one hand was the ocean’s vast extent,

With asp

In earshot of the murmuring wind and wave, |

A spot best suited fur a poet's grave

¢Lord Byron:

LITERATURE.

IN PRAGUE.

wer

THE SWEDES

CHarteER Vill.

Ube close of the long summei’s day came | at last; and, as the sun sank behiud the | i ae

western hilly, Albe:t hurried toward the |

| ridge, to relieve his troubled mind there | where the beauty of the evening, the serene aspect of the heavens, tcgether with the | go'den clouds spe-ding along in airy flight, | the sparkling stream, covered with vessels | slowly gliding alcng, and the activity pre- vai iog on each shore, all combiued to pre~ sent agrezable and diversified scene. Wallenst+in stood and enjoyed the exhi'ar-

an

atins prospect, delizhted with his native |

land, until her former stat? rushed upon his miné—what she might hive bee: — nd what she now was! Glvomy ideas again floatd

like the clouds across the firmaneni, over his mind. which had scarcely tus‘ed of the reviving calm, when suddenly, a; ho looked t»> the right, he perceived, across the Mol

davia, tkat spot where, a week before, he had stocd ia a far more mcurnfui state of mitd than he was in even tcsday, and where first the so't voice and sylph-like fizure of Joanna had so pleasingly impressed him. With delight did he retrace tht cireum- stance, together with the evening spent at the Wall-netein Palace, which had quietly termi: ated so tempestucus a day. It now occurred to bim that the scenes of his cheer- Loyhood, and the inrocent society of Joanna, might azeia tranquilize him; and, with th's idea, he proceeded hastily across

ful

the bride and through the streets towards his solitary palace.

He found the gate locked, a d the court aud garden desacted, as they had usually

been since h's uncle's deut); bt, hay nz

obtaived eutrance, he perceived Joanna seated in the hall at a emal! table, on which liy some needlewors. She was not, how-

ever, working at that moment, but supports inz her head apon her band, with her beck toward the e ‘trance, and, consequentjy, t>- wad A.beit. She was apparently gazing, lost in thought, on something which she held before her. Wailleastein drew nvarer, but Joonna heard him not; her eyes were d’- rected, wiih a mournful expression, toward the object alluded to, which was apparently a relic-case, or a portrait; and Albert even thought he could dissinguirh that «he hed been weeping

At this moment she raised her head, and became awarejof the preeence of Wallen- stein; on seeing whom she sprang up, blush ing deeply, and kaistily that which she held. Albert greeted ber kindiy, but could not help remarking that he had surprised her in deep thought. She endea- vored to excus? herself by ; leading the heat of the day, which, sie said, revdered it jute impos-ible to keep constantly «t work, and buat too effectually invited either to At this mcmeat Bertram

conceal ng

repo-e or reverie

alvanced; and # anna, retiring a few paces, employed herself in giving the birds

in the aviary the'r evening meal,

Afiera while, th: trio pursued their walks over the grounds, and, at every turn, some fresh object presented itself which had fors merly communicated enjoyment—sympath- etic enjoyment— to Albert ard Joanna. Thus, when they arrived at the lake, the boat, as it had been so many years before, was found tied to a post upon the bank ; and the darke.ing s\y was studded witk stars, whos? re

fleeting images smiled peacefully

on them once again, from out the blue watr, Wallenstein requested Joanna to step into the little bark, ard said he would

rw her, asin former times, along the lake. Bertram offered issistarce, but declined, ‘ We will be children once more, Joanna,’ exclaimed Wallersteir, ‘and far cy

his it Was

ourselves still at that period when every sport could please.’

Joanua stocd a moment hesitating cn the shore, whilet undefised feelings arose with- in her breast. On her father’s loosenirg the boat, however, she took the extended band of Wallensteia, who helped ber in, and regarded her with some surprise as he felt | the trembling of hers. ‘ What!’ he asked

| ‘are you aftsil to trust yourse’f upon the water ?’

* Oh, #0,’ icterposed Bertram ; adding

| with a laugh, ‘ she often iows herself.’

* Well, then, perhaps she feels no conf- | dence in my ability,’ observed Albert smil- ing in his turn.

‘Indeed I do!’ cried Joanna, huastily seating herself straightway in the boat; ‘ I am tot afraid; om the contrary, I enjoy the pleasure of the excursion, and feel very grutofu! to yoo for it.’

They sow glided along the calm surface of the water, while Bertrsm remained stands ing upon the shore, gaziog upon them with a peculiar expression of countenance. A plea_

| eant conversation ensued between the young |

t pale and |

people ; the beauty of the evening, the re~ flection of the heavens in the clear watere— the agreeable contiguity cf the weil kept | gardens, Which, view: d from the end of the

ake, seemed to blend, in pleasing deception,

| with tle distant trees of the Lawrence Hili—

| these, together with the memory of f.rmer |

hours, and the enjoyment of the present, all combined to silence and subdue the disquiet which bad ce'zed on Albert during the pre~ veding pertoftheday. Alterso many years | had passed, it gave him singular pleasure to | 10w the playmate o! his youthfover the same lake, and to beho'd her graceful form in blcoming womanhocd floating along in the dancing vessel to the efforts of the vigorous

ara.

Their little excursion finished, Bert am | proceeded to secure the boat, and in doinz |

| so scratebed his hand. Joanna perceiving

biood to flow, was alarmed, and sudd nly |

drasing forth her handkerchief, the gold

case she Lad so has ily concealed rolled out |

the groucd. Wallenstein, with a

| miogled feeling of gallantry and cur‘osity, /immediately stooped to pick it up, hefore | Joanna was aware of the cireumstanee. In its fall the case had sprung open—:eveiling | the portrait of aman with auburn hair and | noble features.

| On turning and seeing the case open in the Count’s hand, Joanna ut:tred a faint ery. Albert presented her with the portrait saying iu a stil and somewhat g'comy tone,

upoD

|seut?’ The girl blushed and hesitated at | the sam: time hastily taking the case from Albe:t*s hind. ‘ Itis a gift of my motheu’s,’ | she at Inst re plied. in @ voice searcely audi~ ‘Ob, enough, enough,’ itt -rrupted Albert; ‘Ihave no right to dive into your ' secrets.’ Much agitated, Joanna replied, | * Most certainly, my Lord, it cught to ba no | secret to you, if’—ard here she etopred, ‘Farewell, Joanva! Good-night, Ber» | tram !’ and so saying, Wallenstein tcok h’s hat and departed. ment, as if debating witbin herself; she | then determired that the Count should not

ble,

| remain impressed with any suspicion, and |

therefore followed him through the court- yard:

‘My Lord,’ ske said, * hear me but one | word.’ Wallesstein turned round, and leoked on ber with surprise. * Wou'd it be agreeable 40 you, my Lord,’ sbe pursued, ‘ to take th> t ouble t> come here again tosmorrow afters noon, and faver me witn an hcur s aedie: ce?

You shall t’.en leatr—’

| § What are you about, Joanna?’ whisper- ed hr father, coming ap :—‘ Consiler your promise tome !’

‘I know, father; I cou'd not then foresee such an occurrence as the present, I place the utmost corfiden e in Count Wal- lenstein’s honor.’

* No,’ your secret.

bat

have I, also, have confidence

my you, Jcanns, can have nothing to

keep seeret for which you need blush.’ ‘And, therefore, my Lord, it is that I

repeat my request for your audience tes

nes

morrow.’

Wallenstein was silent. Joanna’s werds had excited within him a host of surmises. it would seem, beyond a doubt, that she entertained an unfortunate passion for the original of the picture, and this conviction pained our Lero, without his exactly know- ing why. He promised to come, however; but added, with asmile, ‘I an not solicitous of hearing your confession, Joanna. Think, therefore, for your own pace, that you have pomis-d nothing—-farewell.’

After he left, @ conversation ensucd bes tween the father and daughter, as to the propriety of the intended disclosure, which ended in Bertram telling Joanna that she was a wilful chil?, and hoping that no harm wculd come of it. His il! humor, however, if he displayed any, was soon dispelled by the smiles and endearmente of the affection~ ate girl.

Wallenstein continued to muse upon the circumstances that had just oecurred. Had this maid likewise, already confided hersym- Was she, like Helen, invo-ved in some mys‘erious in‘rigue? But what consequence was it t» him if she were? Alas, so little was Wallenstein’s solf-know ledge, that he forebore to trace this anxiety to ita legitimate source. strolled on, until, at solitary spot near the Convent of the Capuchins, his abstractj n was dissipated by a confused sound of voices and clashing arme. Astonished, he pauscd, listened sttentively, and then hurried to- ward the spot from whence the noise pro- ceeded.

pathies to another?

He found a man wrapped in a

mantle, his back against the wall, defends |

ing himself wih a drawn sword against three antagonists; and it seemed that te

gave them all e:ouzh to do, alhough using |

only his left arm.

‘What igthe ma't-r here?’ cried Wallen-

tei 3 wil asnesthed s rd he auddenly | . : stein, as with unsheethed sword he euddenly | is gratefully thanked; but who ever re

members to reward the little tireless feet | that are travelling all day long upstairs and | _ down, on countiess errands for somebody ?

advanced upon the essailants, who appeared to belong to the garrison, ‘Are you not} ashaned to avail yourself of such odds ?”

‘He is a villian,’ shouted one; ‘a spy,’ exclaimed another; ‘a German dog,’ bel- lowed the third, at the same time redoubling | his blows.

‘ Whcever you are, nob'e stranger,’ cried | the attacked man, with the purest Bohe mian accent, ‘stand by me—I am aszaulted by assassins.’

Wallenstein did not consider long; but | impetuously charzing the soldiers, their in- | teaded victim was soon freed trom such an | unequal contest. ‘I thank you, sir,’ he now said, ‘I am an«flicer and # uobleman. | These rascals attacked me on my way home, | doubtless meaning to rob me ’

‘Villian! it is not your money, but your life we want,’ exclaimed one of the three aitempting, but vainly to rally h’s comrades. | *Wehad vowed your desructicn long azo, | ever since we first saw you sneaking about | the fortress.’

‘He is the servant cf the Swedes,’ said another of these heroes.

* He is a Swede himee!f,’ rejoined the first speaker, again endeavoring to get at the obs | ject of his hate.

At this moment the moon arose above the | wa'l besid> them, and illumined the whole | scene,

*Ha! Count Wallenstein ! of the assailants.

‘Even so,’ replied Albart; ‘and I am | sorry to find soldiers of the Imperial ermy engaged in coshamefal a proceeding.’

The men reluctantly sheathed their wea, pons and retired.

‘ exclaimed one |

Albert bad now an op; o:tumty to examine the person of the stranger. He wasa man of tall, robust figure, and appa:en'ly of mid- | die age. His hat bad fallen of in the con- | fliet, and the moon shone bii-htly on his | strongly-mwarked countenance. His thick.

‘May Lask who this is intended to repre- |

Josnua stood a mos}

answered Albert, ‘ I wish not to |

In such a mood be |

i

_ It is, however, something.

mowtiches and animated eyes, with the | profusion of raven hair that fell down either side of the laced collar of his doublet, pres sented a striking though not very pleasant A disagreeable but vague feeling agitated Albes, as the stranger stooped to pick up his hat and retarned his | sword into its scabbard.

| The silence was broken by the rescued /man. ‘Tam most happy, my Lor, thet | this fortunate accident has not ouly made me | eterpally your debtor, but has also acquaint- |ed me with the name of my noblesminded | | 1

tout ensemble,

deliverer. Believe me, you have not obliged ao urgratefal man.’

‘May I ask,’ said Wallenetein in reply, | ‘with whom I have the hono: to conv: rse ?” ‘My name is Berka von Deuba.’

‘Berka von Daba ?’ slowly and with emoticn.

repeated Albert,

a peculiar smile playing about bis lips.

‘hk is the name of one of vur oldest fami-~ | lies, replied Albert. ‘You are an officer, it appears.’

‘| once was 80; but you see,’ and he drew | back his mantle, as he spoke, ‘what has | happened to my right arm. Such is the re, sult of my service, and my reward bas bean— la discharge.’

| ‘Ay! thet is a melancholy fate which you | share in common with many others.’

|. ‘True ; such are the thanks awarded hy

|mighty everywhere. Were it p-rmitted small things by a

m3 to illustrate reference toa great, I should quote the in- stance of your glorious unc'e. Like him, I have served my country t> the best of my power, and like him, tco, fave I been res warded. The great Fricdiend was treated with shameful ingratitude—the guilt imputed to him rever proved.’

‘Sir,’ interrupted Aibcrt, ‘be pleased to | Spare any further comment on my uncle. | ‘Ihe subject you allude to I have resolutely | forb:dden myself to touch upon.’

‘It is well if you can forbear; but fortune | bas smiled upon you, while on me her frown | bas been uace.sing. My small possessions, the scanty remains of my paternal estate — the greatest part of whieh I staked during the war in Austri.—have becn plundered | and fied by the Swedes; and here I stand, }at once abandoned by my native country, and asvffrcr from the oppression of the | eneny.

| ‘Hare you not tried to awaken the notice | of the Emperor? Ferdinandis kind and just, and I doubt nct—’

‘1 have introduced myself to Field Ma: shal Colleredo. He encourages me with the hope that, upon the se‘tlement of pe .ce—which

he trusts is near at hand—all demands would be fuily satisfied A nctable conclusion, truly: soon prorounced, and costing nothing | to the giver. But, farewell, my Lord. I see we have reached the Palace Square. Your path, probably, is toward Konizeburg or your palace i: the city ; mine lies in ano- ther direction. Accept, again, the thanks of au old soidier—not so much for his li'e, _ whieh you have saved, but for the joy I feel in ficding the neplew of a great hero, the | inheritcr of his generoes and noble mind.’ They exchanged curtesies ard paried. {

PILITENESS AT HOME, i sila

| ‘Thank you Charlie,’ said Mrs. Brown, | as her little son handed her a paper he was requested to bring. ‘Thank you | Bridget,’ said the little fellow a few hours after, as he received a glass of water from nis nurse. ‘ Well, Mrs. Brown, you have the best managed children | said a neighbor. ‘I should be mine were as polite to me as yours are to the servants. You never spend half so much time on your children’s clothes as | do, and yet every one notices them, they are so well behaved.’ treat our children politely,’ was the quiet reply. This was the whole secret. When I hear their parents grumbling about the ill manners of their children, I always wish to ask, ‘Have you always treated them with politeness?’ I once knew a man, considered quite a gentleman in society, who would speak to his children in a man- ner thata well in-tructed dog would resent.

ever saw,’

_ He would order them with a growl to bring

him his slippers, or perform some other little service; and yet he complained of the rudeness and his children.

Many parents who are polite and polish- ed in their manners toward the world at large, are perfect boos inside the home circle. the same? If they should accidentally brush against another in the streets an apology would be sure to follow

of

disobedience

being violated by their careless elders ? If a stranger offers the slightest service he

It would be policy for parents to treat their children politely for the sake of obs taining more cheerful obedience, if for no other reason. you please,’ and ‘I thank you,’ now and then will go far to lighten an otherwise turdensome task. Say to yourson, ‘John, will you shut the door, please?’ and he will hasten with a pleasant smile to do your bidding. Manychildrenas they grow older are obliged to learn the rules of po- liteness as they would a lesson. The con- sequence is, when they appear in society they are awkward and blundering. (n the

other hand, children who have been accuss | tomed to politeness at home are at their | | ease in the most polished circies, and are

saved that confusion and bitter self.con, demnation which are sure to follow any breach of the rules of etiquette.

to consider politeness at home affection !

| Brothers who would jump up with alacrity

to give an easy chair to some dashing miss of their acquaintance, will appropriate it

| to themselves when at home, without the slightest apparent consciousness of the |

resence of a sister, or perhaps a mother. Want of politeness is the cause of more quarrelling among brothers and sisters than anything else. [n their plays child:

ren are constantly meeting with little acci- |

dents, for which they should apologise. I have seen the cheeks of a child flush with

| anger, his eyes flash, and a little hand raised to strike the unfortunate breaker of |

a toy, when, as if by magic, the blow was

| arrested by these words, ‘Excuse me, I

did not mean to.’ Polish is not everything. It is better to have a black kettle that is sound, than a bright one with a hole in the bottom ; but there is no reason why the bright one should not be sound too. Shine them up, and both happiness and influence will be increased ,—Adrance.

‘Is it known to you?” inquired the othr, |

thank ful if | i

We always try to)

What wonder if the children are |

but who| ever thinks of offering an excuse to the} | little people, whose rights are constantly

The costless use of an ‘If!

Some | | children, learning from their parents, seem

WINCE!? ANEOUS, The cholera had appeared Ayres.

A colored man has been elected speake: of the Mississippi State Assembly.

The Governor of Arkansas offers a reward for the apprehension of fifteen murderers.

Mr. “Ginx ’’ Jenkins is writing a book | about West Indian affairs.

A legal stone weighs 14 pounds, or the | eighth of a hundred, in Engiand, and 16 pounds in Holland.

Two millions and a quarter of people have | emigrated from Ireland to America during | | the last twenty-two years. C. J. Brydges, Manager of the Grand | Trunk Railway, has been appointed chair- |}man of the Board of Commissioners of | Intercolonial Railway.

| A Hien Pricep Rooster —Two thousand | dollars seems to be a pretty steep price to | pay for a rooster, but sueh we are informed was the amount paid to Ira Batchelder of the Mount Crawford House, for his black Spanish rooster, called Gen. Caste'ar. The purchaser, Mr. Wm. G. Davis, civil engineer on the Portland and Ogdensburg Kailroad, | censidérs him the best game bird in this | country—-he being the only one hatched | from a dozen eggs brought from Matanzas, | Cuba. Various birds were made by different | parties in this city to secure him, one gentle

oe

in Buenos

j

|

lumber business offering his entire interest in the largest mill on the line of the road. | — Portland Argus.

Ix Haste to cet Marrigep.—A young man started from Terra Haute on the last day of the year for Matoon, Ind., where he was engaged to be marriedat2,p.m. At Paris he stepped off the train to get a cigar, and it started offwithouthim. In pure despar ation he started to walk, and proceeded some distance when a hand-~car came along. He was allowed to get aboard and help propel the concern until within three miles of his destination, when the men of the car stopped and positively refused to go further. He then hired a mule off’ farmer: There was no saddle in the stable which he would allow to go with the beast, and theres fore the the young man was compelled to go it bareback. When he arrived at the house the clock had struck three, and the entire party was in consternation as he rode up to the door, both legs wrapped around that mule’s body, slashing him with a club a every jump, and followed in his career by half the boys in town.

a ee IRISH LANGUAGE AND MUSIC.

There is no better criterion of the nature and distinguishing characteristic. of a peos ple, than he study of its language and music. In comparing the ancient Greek and Hebrew languages, Chaterubrand re- marks: ‘The Hebrew, concise, energetic, with scarcely any inflection in its verbs, expressing twenty shades of thought by the mere apposition of a letter, proclaims the

| combination,unite primitive simplicity with | @ profound knowledge of mankind. The | Greek displays, in its intricate conjugations,

in its endless inflections, in its diffuse

MISCELANEOIS,

Lo

‘on has 117 square miles, 600,000 | houses, and 3,260,000 inhabitants. It is estimated that, twenty per cent of the working men of New York are idle. Mr. Rayne, of Sydney, C.B., has fallen heir to a fortune of $10,000, left him by a. relative who recently died in England.

Jay Cooke and Company’s estate is to be | wound up and a settlement made in ac. |

cordance with the fifty-third section of Bankruptcy Act. It was so decided ata meeting of the creditors on the 29th ult The total amount of the claims $5, 562,913.60.

The wheat crops are reported to have failed in the Argentine Republic. Unfa vorable news of a similar kind also comes from Australia. impending famine of Bengal promises te increase the demand for American pro duce.

Tea is now extensively raised in Hindos~ tan, the exports to England in 1572 ex- ceeding 17,00:0,00). rare flavor, and are used by English shop- keepers to mix with the Chinese. The culture iu the Indias are now carried on by stock companies, which are now paying from ten to twenty per cent dividends,

The Great Point.—The urgent demand of the hour is conscientious personal ab~

man in particular now prominent in tne | Stinence. The man who uses intoxicants

is the practical patron and ally of the liquor traffic. Justin proportion as we can per- suade people to stop drinking shall we become able to compel men to stop selling. Only where a majority of the people are total abstainers, will dram shops ever be outlawed. But while so many reputable persons continue their partnership with the liquor traffic by buying and using intoxi- cants, the accursed havoc of the traffic will goon unchecked, First must come the appeal to reason and to conscience, and then conscience will crystalize into just law. It is a significant fact that at the opening ofthe Dominion Parliament a petition for prohibition was presented.

Tobacco vs. Mind aad Money.—Tobacco like alcohol, is a poison inimical to health, if not so directly a brain irritant. Like alcohol, too, it is an immense tax upon the

| pockets of thousands who are addicted to

its use. By it many are too much impover. ished in money and too mind to enjoy the higher order of pleasures

such as are derived from the exercise of benevolence, from books, journals, lectures, ete, A Western Methodist. who has been investigating and collecting tobacco statis

tics among the brethren, reports that he

| found eight leading members in a certain

place paidin one year one hundred and ninety-five dollars for tobacco. He gives additional information concerning these

| eight brethren, to the effect that, for the

idiom of a people, who, by a remarkable |

| eloquence, a nation of an imitative and |

|} socia] genius, a nation elegant and vain, fond of melody and prodigal of words.” Again he says ; “ The Greek implies merely i | - senti-

conveys aa moral and universal

ment.”’

two nations beautifully portrayed in their language, and this, on principle, can be affirmed of all others; for as the stream carries along with it the properties of the | fountain, so does language bear she impress | of the soul from which it flows. The lan- of the Frenchman is the wirror | which reflects his politeness, vivacity and |

guage

fickleness, while the phlegmatic and vigors | ous nature of the Teuton, shines forth from the. broad, slowspaced, and harshness of his vernacular German,

stentorian The stately Spanish proclaims itself to be the language of a high-toned people; the Italian shows a people of sentiment, and the homely Anglossaxon bespeaks the | blunt, strong.minded, and matter-of-fact Englishman.

It is in this way the philologist naturaily wanders back from the study of a langu- | age to the habits and peculiarities of the | people who spoke it, deciphering the re- | ligion, pursuits and characteristics of na- tions which history has long since lost sight of, and corroborating its narrations, | regarding those that have not yet passed j away. It is, in this way, we are enabled to | read a reliable, social and moral history of Ireland, from the construction and pecus liar traits of her language. In its polished finish and regularity, we see a people of | refinement and education, long before most | other nations of Europe had arisen from their semi-barbarism. In its expressive | ness and yollubility, we see the ready- | witted and communicative Irishman, and on every page of the literature those aspirations and sentiments which jcan only belong to a people naturally endowed with a religious propensity. The Irishman’s salutation is, ‘ God bless you.’ | If he enters the house of his neighbor it is either, ‘The blessing of God be here,’

we find

or ‘God save all here,’ and he is greeted in return by the repetition of his own saluta- tion, or the well-known Cead mille failte— you are a hundred thousand times wels |} come’ The idiom of the Irishman shows | that he is neither selfish nor egotistical, |and hence there is not, in the whole language, a single word that implies abso- , | lute possession. In the words of Rev. | Ulick Bourke, ‘ It would seem as if the na~- | tive Irishman were either too poor, or too | high-minded, to proclaim boldly that he has property. He cannot say it, his lan- guage does not supply the apposite verb |he gently states that it is ‘ with him,’ /a layam. It isthe est pro habe Now, this peculiarity must have some cause, and that cause, we believe, is to be found in the un- selfish disposition of the Irish. We can ' never understand Irish chasacter and hiss | tory without some knowledge of the Irish language. The Irishman is the incarna- tion of the Irish tongue, and the Irish tongue is the vocalization of the Irishman.

What we have said of languages can also be affirmed of music. In the national | music of Ireland we see the soul, the life | and the dispositions of her people. It is

| now joyous and soul stirring, then sad and

| beautifully blended, the same strain will | exhilarate and sadden, leaving you en- |raptured between an inexpressible twos | fold feeling, like a child smiling through its tears.