eV7"™_

VOL. XXV.

THE EXAMINER.

¢

CHARLOTTETOWN, PRINCE

EDWARD

sh Pia

ERE ie

ISLAND, MONDAY JULY 13, 1874.

CLOSING AND ARRIVAL OF MAILS,

pOST OFFICE, CHARLOTTETOWN, P. E. ISLAND,

ee See eeeeerercmmemmenmmmnais . MA ~ ‘ OSE DUE ‘ ; : . M ay. We sday and Monday, Wednesday, and i. : Av.o p Friday, 6 n ata New Br'ns- 2 Wed.. & Frid m.§Mon., Wed., and Friday, Stat ‘ 10-30. p. m eK a . : ee Every alter Friday i mencit Friday 15th : : May at 9 | About every alternate Sut- oF Xx. | Supplement mailevery al-| uiday, commmencing Sat- ate S 2-50, p.m urday, 16th May, 10 p. m. nme 3 Sunday 17th : May ‘ ) 2’ M i Friday, 10-30, p. m. ‘ — i)? Monday Ww resda nd Mond., Wed., and Friday, ieaen ‘ Friday, 9 10-30, p. m. Sew foundland d West? Sameas G Britain, via Same as Great Britain, via piies ‘ Halitax Halifax. amet -) Daily, Su xcepted, 9 Daily, Sunday excepted, 2 eof ‘ I _™m p.m. ngetow 2 Daily, Su xXcepte , Daily, Sunday excepted, 2 fices ‘ mm p. m. stert Tignish, A -% Wednesday Saturday. 9 p. m. Tuesday, Friday. 2 p. ™ on a ; a. ; : : - ‘ . festern—S 3.8 s,? Monday, Thursday, 9 p. m Wednesday, Saturday, 7 p.m. é ‘ sc uw »™M I lav } we Wedne ‘ > , 2 Souther \ [ I lay, 9 p. m, ednesday, Saturday, 2 p.m, 2 ‘ \ B a . : id , : : ? Mor Ww sday, Friday. Monday, Wednesday. Friday, A ‘ 91 , 2.30, p. m. Brackley P ud, ? Mond I Sa.m. Tuesday, Friday, 9 a. m, ‘ £ Pisquid—J * g .% Friday, 12 m. Friday, 10 a. m. & ‘ Lette $ pos 5-4, p. m., both postage and Registration Postag News] $, Ala On lette.s for City delivery must be pre- T ° } > * . Letter Box Steamers up to the time of their A. A. MACDONALD, Postmaster. Post Office. | P. E. I., 9th May, 1874 .

AFTER MONDAY, tith WAY.

Business Cards. BYRNE,

Ac

me. C.

r.¥

Veterinary Surgeon,

mm. A

LONDON. GREAT BRITAIN. B teste iicuds to

2 sts : 3 2 420

se charzes to giv satisfa en tot — Bay eotrust nwith t trea nt ort r sick 04.3

CARVBLL BROTHERS, A “ue : TION i E Re 3 fommission Merchants,

AND

GENERAL AGENTS. BANK BUILDING, QUEEN STREET, Charlottetown. P. E. Island

JAMES BRENAN, Honse, Sign, aud Carriage Painter,

Paper Hanger & Glazier

SOLERIS WEST.

Ovders i/fl receive 1 mpt attention.

Jails 7, 1873 ly

H. R. MUHLICS’

Kitchen & Galley,

Furnishing Depot.

Als DEALER IN ALL KINDS OF Ship Work, OCTPPERS and Water (¢ set, DES i Gack, Wiaures, Deep-cca ond Hand. “ads, Lead Cisterns made, and Water

CREIGHTON STREET, OPPOSITE: UNION TIOUsE. FAicTou, N, Ss. JOSEPH CREAMER, Physician & Surgeon, Ciz7 AOTZL. CHARLOTTETOWN °

t

lite attended’ §

‘iients attended at all hours

Wistions given to gvatuitously on MONDAYS »lte4,t

BANGOR HOUSE, — ee ae re,

Xt John, - - - New Brunswick. 1H RUSSEL, PROPRIETOR. F.M. CAMPBELL.

General M erchant COMMISION AGENT,

SUCLIONE RR & RROKER _ TBMITT CORNER, GEORGETOWN, P, E.1.

AGENT F

Mandard Life Insurance Co.

YWLCAN FOUNDRY

GEORGETOWN.

OT: ‘VES » ey . ‘ i Ys ee NDLAS POR ary wee Paid

aon > iis 4

f OLD & SCRAP IRON Tt tore ' ¢. A. RUTHERFORD & Co.

te, WILLIAM DODD, Mmixsiorm Merchant and A UCTioey EER

: QUEEN go: AK HARLOTIEVOWN pt.

+ uke

B. ISL,

PRINTING.

Having Improved

tower & Gordon Presses,

2. + 404 @ Good Variety

>

The Newest Styles of Type,

MK & FANCY JOB PRINTING

* Lowest Terine ,

at the

SAMINER OFFICE.

» EK. ISLAND

STEAM NAVIGATION COMP’Y’S STEAMERS!

4 ' \

Summer On and After Tuesday, 12th Mav.

Pie STleAMERS

SL Lawrence & Princess of Wales

will leave the Company's Wharf, wea ther permitting, as under:

For Shediac and Summerside. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Satur- day, at o'clock in the morning. Returning from Shediac, very Wednesday, Friday, and Monday, on arrival of train from St. John.

Fo Pictou and Hawksbury, Every Tuesday and Thursday morning st five o’clock, and for PICTOU & GEORETOWN, on Saturday, same hour Returning from Hawksbury- Every Wednesday and Friday, and from GEORGETOWN, Monday.$ Prom Pictou to Charlottetown,

Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, on arriyal of train from Halifax-

F. W. HALES. HERMANS & SON,

2K

QUEEN sTRELET, OPPOSITE WATSON’S DRUG STORE, i §Ree to return their thanks to the v,eneral public forthe liberal patronage extended ) '0 them since their commencement in business,

aud ask for a continuance of the same They keepconstanty on hend

A meat Assortment ot

TINWARE, KITCHEN UTENSILS &c., &c., ae. \LL ORDERS in the above BUSINESS ¥ yf in tually attended io. Haviag lately made large purchases iu the Jheapest Markets,inteoded fer House Builders,

Gas Pilling, Water Closets, Hell Pittings, &.. &c.,

lam prepared to SELL THEM at RATES AS LOW AS CAN BE HAD IN THE CITY, and will fitthem up io agoodl workmanlike style

fo a generous public, we would say, that all Orders in THIS BRANCst OF OUR BUSI NESS will be attended to with Despatch

\ Lot of Firet Clase WATiLLR COOLERS on

and. SAYER’S CRYSTAL BLUE, Sold Cheaper than ever

Nov. 11, 1871

he

FIRE AND MARINE INSURANCE. IMPERIAL Fire [usarance Company

OF LONDON. Subscribed and Invested Capital £1,965,000 « Sterling.

MONTREAL

Marine Assurance Commpany. land Cash Assets over $1,000,000

‘The above OFFICES being of UNDOUBT- ED STANDING, guarantee perfect security and prompt payment of losses.

FENTON T. NEWBERY, Agent for Prince Edward Island Ch’ town, Jan. 20, 1873. ly

Union Bank of P. E. Island.

MVIDEND of five per cent on the Cap-

A ital Stock of this Bank for the half year

ending this day, has been declared, and is to the Shareholders on demand.

Wm. HEARD, Cashier.

Charlottetown, June Ist, 1874.

Capit

pay aun

%

FOR SALE | VERAL Building Lots situate In Tig- ‘ yish, Township No. 1, Prince County, fronting the Railway Station, are offered by private sale. Any Lots remaining unsold will be offered by Auction, on W ednesday, 24th day of June next, at 11 o'clock. erms.—20 per cent down, and the re- mainder in equal instalments annually for 4 s, bearing 6 percent interest. Forfplans particulars apply to

the

yea and

JOHN BALL, Land Agency Office, March 16, 1874,—tf

AVOID QUACKS.

A victim of early indiseretion,causing ner- vou» debility, premature decay, &c., having tried in vain every advertised remedy, has discovered a simple means of self-cure which he will send free to his fellow-suf- erers. Address, J. H. REEVES, 78 Nas- sau Street, New York.

POETRY.

THE OLD FARM HOUSE DOOR,

——— HY WAYNE HOVEY

When memory turns to the days of ow BPE childhood, +g eign And fond recollections encompass the

view ; When sunshine and shadow each carpet the wildwood, And fields are all covered with diamonds of dew, ‘Tis easy for us in such hours of reflection To think of the country and home’s ample

store ; To wander far back, and in sweet retrospec- tion, Again stand in front of the old farm-house door,

‘Twas there that the violets in sweetest con- fusion, Nestled close to the path leading up from the spring, And roses and lilacs in leving profusion,* Bowed ‘neath the dip of the swallow’s steel wing. ‘Twas there that the sunshine seemed bright- est and dearest, And life was a bliss that should never end more ; While the friends that we loved were all dear, yet the dearest Were those that we met round the farm house door

old

In the twilight of evening, in the first blush of morning, When the lowing herd wandered far down in the vale, And the shrill cock proclaimed his matina) warning, Awakening quail; No greater delight could be found than in viewing Che teeming expanse of store, And breathing the fresh air, so sweet and renewing, we stood looking out at >

from slumber the echoing

matures great

As farm

the old

10use door

In the evening of life, when our be closing, And the still, solemn night shall be fast drawing on, When our eyes growing dim—and from labor reposing, Our arm shall be nerveless, our pale and wan— Our prayer is that then, when our Heavenly Father, Shall make known His will from the bright shining shore,

day shall

cheeks

It may be that us with the good He will gather, And call us to rest from the old farm house odor,

JOHN AND 1.

‘Come, John,’ said I, cheerfully, ‘ it really ie time to go; if you stay any longer I sball be afraid to come down and lock the door after you.’

My visitor rose—a proceeding that always reminded me of the genius emerging from the copper vessel, as he measured six feet three—and stood looking reproachfully down Upon me.

*‘ You are in a great burry to get rid of me,’ he replied.

Now I didn’t agree with him, for he had made his usual call of two hours and a half; having, in country phrase, taken to ‘ sitting up’ with me, s> literally that 1 was fre» quently at my wit’s end to suppress the yawn that [ knew would bring a troop rushs ing after it.

He was a five, manlyslooking fellow, this John OUranford, old for his age—which was

| the rather boyish period of twenty-two—

and every way worthy of beisg loved. Bat I didn't love him.

to the clause, ‘A man may not marry his | and I added, encouragingly, * Besides, John,

you are a child, and don't know your own mind.’

like to know who should,

teen as Jacob did for Kachel.’

seriously, John, this is absurd ; you are a

towards you are more those of a mother than those of a wile.’

lifted me from the spot where I stood, anc carried me, infant fasbion, to the sofa at the other ecdof the room.

shake you!’ he muttered, as he set me

| down with emphasis.

This was rather like the courtship of William of Normandy, and matters promised to be quite exciting.

‘Don’t do that again,’ said I, with dig- nity, when I had recovered my breath.

‘Will you marry me?’ asked John, some~ what threateningly.

‘ Not just at present,’ I replied.

‘The great, handsome fellow,’ I thought, as he paced the floor restiesly, ‘why could’t be fall in love with some girl of fifteen, instead of setting his affections on an old maid like me? I don’t want the boy on my hands, and I won’t have him.’

‘As to your being twenty-six,’ pursued Jobn, in answer to my thoughts, * you say it’s down in the family Buble, and I suppose it muet be so ; but no one would believe it ; and I don't care if you're forty. You look like a girl of sixteen, and you are the ovly woman I shall ever love.’

‘ Oh, John, Joho, at least five millions of men have said that same thing before in every known language. Nevertheless, when you fairly break down and cry, I relent—for Lam diegracefully tofishearted—and weakly promise then and there that I will either keep my Own name or take yours. For love is a very dog in the manger, and John looked radiant at this eoncession. It wate comfort to know that if he could not gather the flower himself, no one else would.

A sortof family sbiowreck bad wafied John to my threshold. Our own houses hold wae sadly broken up, aod I found iny+ self comparatively young in years, with half-invalid father, a large house, and very little money. What more natural than to take boarders? And among the firet were Mr. Cranford, and his so, and sister, who had just been wrecked themeelves by the death of the wife and mother in foreign jand—oze of those sudden, unexpected deaths that leave the survivers in * dazed condition, because itis 80 difficult to imagine the gsy worldliog who bas besn called hence

in another state of being.

I was seven years |

Mr. Cranford was oue of my admirations from the first. Tall, pale, with dark hair and eyss, be reminded me of Dante, only that he was handsomer ; and he had such a geveral air of knowing every thing worth knowing (without the least pedantry, hows ever) that I was quite afraid of him. He was evidently wrapped up ia John, and petis ent with his sister—which was asking quite

for Mrs. Shellgrove was an unmitigated nuisance Sucha talker! babbling of her own and ber brother's affairs with equal in- discretion, and treating the latter as though he were an incapable infant.

They staid with us three years, and during that time I was fairly persecuted about Joho. Mre. Shellzrova wrote me a letter on the subject, in which she informed me that the whole family were ready to receive me with open arms—a prospect that I did not find at all alluring They seemed to bave set their hearts upon me as a person peculiarly fitted to train John in the way he showldgo. Everything, I was to!d,depended ou his getting the right kind of wife.

A special interview with Mr, Cranford, at his particular Tequest, touchec me considers ably.

‘I hope,’ said he, ‘ that you will not re. fuse my boy, Miss Edoa He has set his heart eo fully upon you, and you are everything that I could desire in a daughter. I want some one to pet. I feel sadly lonely at times, avd I am sure that you would just fill the vacant niche.’

I drew my hand away from his caress, and almost felt like bating John Cranford. Life with him would be one of ease and luxury; but I desided that I had rather keep boarders,

Not long after thi: the Cranfords cons cluded to go to housekeeping. and Mrs. Shellgrove was in her glory. She always came toluncheon now in her bonnet, and gave u3 minute details of all that had been done and talked of about the house in the Jast twentysfour hours.

‘It is really magnificent,’ said she, lengths ening out each syllab'e. ‘ Brother has such perfect taste ; and he is actually furnishing the library, Mies Edna, after your sugges- tion, Yuu sce, we look upon you quite as one of the family.

* That is very good of you,’ I replied, shortly ; * but I certainly have no expectaa tion of ever belonging to it.’

Mrs. Shellerove laughed as though I had

| perpetrated an excellent joke.’

* Young ladies always deny these things, of course; but John tel!s a different etory.’

I rattled the cuys and saueers angrily , and my thoughts floated off not to John, but to John’s father, sitting lonely in the library furnished after my Wasn't it, after all, my duty to marry the family generally.

suggestion.

The Louse was finished and moved into, and John spent his evenings with me. 1 used to get dreadfully tired of him. He was raally toc devoted to b2 at all interesting, and I had reached that state of feeling that, if summarily ordered to take my choice bes tween him and the gallows, 1 would have prepared myself for hanzing with a sort of cheerful alacrity.

} j |

|

| giandmothor.’ That was three years ago ;

[locked the door upon John on the evens ing in question, when I had finally gotten rid of him, with these feelings in full force , and I meditated while undressing on some desperate move that should bring matters to a crisis,

But the boy had become roused at last.

his senior; and when, instead of letting the He too had reflected in the watches of the | worm of concealment prey on his damask night; and next day I received quite a} cheek, he ventured to tell his love for my | dignified leiter from bim, telling me that | matnre gelf, { remorselessly seized upon an} business called him from the city for two or | English Prayersbook, and pointed sternly | three weeks, and that possibly on his return

beli-Haugers, Gan and Tin-swiths, |

I might appreciate hie devotion better. 1 felt inexpressibly relieved. It appeared to me the most sensible move that John had made in the course of our acquaintance, and

| I began to breathe with more freedom.

‘If man of ninct-en doesn’t know his | own mind,’ remonstrated my lover,’ I would | lengthened to six without John’s return. But I will wait! He wrote to me, but his letters became for you seven years, if you say so—fours |

| what to make of him. ‘You forget,’ I replied, laughing at hie| me up, thought; but I felt sure that he

way of mending matter, ‘that a woman | does not, like wine, improve with age. Bat | mine, th:t I should either become Edna

| nice boy, and I like you—but my feelings sie : : - | ing, aad [ entered the parlor fully prepared

Time flew, however, and the three weeks

somewhat constrained; and I scarcely knew If he would only give

would hold me to that weak promise of

Cranford or remain Edna Carrington. ‘Mr. Cranford,’ was announced one ey: n-

for an overdose of John, but found mysel!

| confronted by his father.

The boy's eyes flashed indignantly ; and | before I could divioe his intention he had | imagined all sorts of things, and reproached yj myself for his coldness.

| | |

He looked very grave, and instaotly ,

‘ John is well?’ I gasped, finally. * Quite well,’ wae the reply, in such kind tones that I felt sure there was something

¢I could almost find it in my heart to| wrong,

What it was I cared not, but poured forth my feelings impetuously to my astonished visitor.

‘He must not come here again!’ I exs claimed. ‘I donot wish to see him. Te}! him ao, Mr. Cranford! tell him that I had rather remain Edna Carrington, as he made me promise, than to become Edna Crans ford.’

‘And he made you promise this?’ was the reply. ‘The selfish fellow! But Edna, what am I to do without the little girl I have been expecting? I am very lonely— so lonely that Ido not eee how I can give her up.”

I glanced at him, and the room seemed swimming round—everything was dreadfully unreal. I tried to sit down, and was car- ried tenderly to the sofa.

‘Shall it be Edna Carrington or Edna Cranford?’ he whipered. ‘You need not break your promise to John.’

‘Edna Cranford,’ 1 replied, feeling that I had left the world entirely, and was in an- other sphere of existence.

If the thought crossed my mind that Mr. Cranford had rather cheerfully supplanted his son, the proceeding was fully justified during the visit which I received from that young gentleman. I tried to make it plain to him that I did him no wrong, as I had never professed to love him, thouuh not at all sure that I wouldn't receive the shaking threatened on a previous occasion, and | endeavored to be as tender as possible, for I felt really sorry for him.

To my great surprise, John laughed.

Well, this is jolly!" he exclaimed. * And I’m not a Villain, after all, What do you think of her, Edna?’

He produced an ivorytype in a rich velvet case—a pretty, little, blue-eyed simpleton ; she looked like #tat seventeen. ~ +Rose,’ he continued — ‘Rose Darling: the name suits her, doesn't it? She was staying at my uncle's in Maryland—that’s where I’ve been visiting, you know—and she’s such a dear little confiding thing that a fellow couldn't help falling in love with her. And she thinks no end of me, you see —says she’s quite afraid of me, and all that.

John knew that / wasn't a bit afraid gf him; but I felt an elder sisterly sort of in- terest in his happiness, and had never liked him so well as at that moment. And this was the dreadful news that his father had come to break to me. when his narrative was nipped in the bud by my revelations, and the interview ended in a far more satisfac- iory manner than either of us had antici~

~~ kept my promise to John, after all, and as Miss Rose kept hers, he is vant steady married man, and a very agreeable

son-in-law.

enough of Christ:an charity under tbe sun, |

CREMATION.

The sudden interest in cremation, or burning instead of burying the dead body, is one of the striking events of the time. For English-speaking readers the discuss sion was begun by Sir Henry Thompson, who, as we privately learn, means to push his project to the end unless some prohib- itory law shall be found. In this country the debate has been taken up with alacrity, and a bill was introduced into the New York legislature to incorporate a society for cremation, The quaint old author of the Religio Medici, Sir Thomas Browne, is before us all in the matter in his pleas sant ‘Urn Burial.” “Though earth hath engrossed the name,” says Sir Thomas, with his grave gavety, “yet water hath proved the smartest grave, which in forty days swallowed almost mankind and the living creation.”’ He holds that “carnal inter. ment,’’ or burying, was of the elder date, as witness Abraham and the patriarchs. And “it were without competition if it could be made out that Adam was buried near Damaseus.”’ Yet the practice of burning was of great antiquity ; for, not to mention Hercules, there are the Homeric obsequies of Patroclus and Achilles, and the “solemn combustion”’ of Mancoeus and Archemores, contemporary unto Jair the eighth Judge of Israel. Yetasall cuss toms, he thinks, had some bottom of rea. son,so had every method of disposing of the body. Those who thought with Thales that water was the original of things held it better to ‘‘ conclude in a moist relents ment.’? Others who conceived fire to be master principle in the composition ‘“ de-~ clned a visible degeneration into worms.”

Then the delightful old scholar reco unts the various practices of many nations. The ‘(indian Brachmans,’’ were too friendly to fire, burning themselves alive. The Chal- deans, idolaters of fire, thought sacrilege to burn their bodies. The Persian Magi, anx~ ious Only for their bones, abandoned the flesh to dogs and birds. The ancient Ger. mans burned their dead, but whether not to offend their deity Hertha or the earth, who shall say? The Egyptians embalmed, afraid of fire, and from such scruples Numa and the Pythagoreans ‘waved their fiery solution.’ The Sycithians made their grave in the air. The Balerians burned wood over their dead, and the Chinese the same, civilly consuming many prints of slaves and horses instead ef exacting the reality. But Christians abhorred this tiery way, except for martyrdom, ‘affecting rather a depositure than absumption.’ Thus garth and fire and water have each their arguments and their advocates. But the present interest springs mainly from sanitary fears. The neighborhood of city cemeteries has infected wells, and when once, for any reason, the question is raised, there seems a thousand good reasons of many kinds for its advocacy.

For once seniiment and science seem to agree. Let us soar aloft with Elijah ina chariot of fire! gushes sentiment. Let us decompose the body in the least harmful way! remarks science There is the usual appalled objection that there is something monstrous and blasphemous in the proposs= ition. There was the same censure of Galileo’s opinion that the earth revolved about the sun. Harvey's doctrine of the circulation of the blood and Jenner’s vac-

cination were received with the same alarmed incredulity. And how have medis cine and surgery in detail escaped? It is said that Christ waslaid in the tomb. But the argument fails for his body according to the old prophecy, was not allowed to see corruption. The question is fairly open upon its merits; and should some simple and inexpensive method of cremation be found, there seems to be no reason to doubt that it will be tried. Whether by fire, or by water, or earth, the body must retum to the dust. Even bythe fond de- ceit of embalming, the final dispersion could only be delayed, not averted; and since science shows that there is no perish» ing but only changing, sanitary and sentis mental considerations alone remain.

In the English burial service the words dust and ashes are supposed to be synony, mous. But a severe scholarship distin- guishes them. Upon his first visit to Eng- land, Mr. Sumner was one day at break~ fast with a pleasant party at Walter Savage Landor’s. The host turned to Mr. Sumner and asked him why General Washington was not buried under the Capitol in the city that bears his name. Mr. Sumner answered him, and ended by saying, ‘And so his ashes rest at Mouut Vernoa.” Ashes! ashes!’ thundered Landor ; ‘I am surprised to hear a scholar use such a word under the circumstances. Do you mean to say, Mr. Sumner, that General Washington’s body was burned?’’ Mr. Sumner instantly, and with equal sp rit, replied, “Mr. Landor, when I read in the famous verse of a great and scholarly Engs

lish poet, *“ —’en in our ashes live their wonted fires.”

am I to understand that Gray refers to some process of cremation among your English forefathers? ”’

Dr. Barnard of Columbia College, in New York, thinks that there would ba a natural reluctance upon the part of friends to hasten the destruction of a beloved form. This also is a natural sentiment, but it is no more; for whether the process be slow or swift no man knows, when that form is hidden from his eyes. And why not hasten that dissolution if it relieve the imagination, since science and religious faith agree that in the dead body only inert matter remains? The soil in St. Innocent’s Churchyard, in Paris, was thought to destroy the body speedily ; that of Sicily to retain it long. In the Campo Santo, at Pisa, was earth brought from the Holy Land for the more comfortable repose of the body. This is all the plea of the imagination. It is we, not the dead, who know that they lie in one soil or in an- other, or are consumed by water or by fire. ‘To live, indeed, is to be again ourselves, which being not only an hope but an evi- dence in noble believers, 'tis all one to lie in St. Innocent’s Churehyard as in the sands of Egypt. Ready to be anything in the ecstacy of being ever, and as content with six feet as with the chair of Adrianus. —Editor’s Easy Chair, in Harper's Magazina for July.

The Italian Government is busily engag- ed in unearthing the foundation of old The Forum Romanum has been cleaned down to the pavement, the Via Sacra and the Coliseum partially so, and the sum of £10,000 has been appropriated for

continuing the excavations.

THE GREAT FRENCH CANADIAN IDEA, {From the Halifax Express.]

No greater idea has ever entered the brain of the French Canadians within memory, than this which agitates them now, of form- ing one vast society, embracing the two million five hundred thousand people speaking French in America, and the quick “repatriation ’’ of the five hundred thou- sand French Canadians who are dwelling in the United States.

Great ideas are not strangers to the brains of the French Canadians. Without them the history of Canada, sorich and romantic in its earlier stages, would be pale and eventiess. France is in a great measure the Mother Country of Canada, Her ehild- ren discovered, colonized, explored, and christianized this Canada of ours, in the early times. Their names are forever a heritage of honor toit. Their blood was shed for it. Their lives were spent for it. Their fortunes were ‘avished for it. Nota mile of territory between Quebec and the Rocky mountains but has been trod and sanctified by the feet of her heroes, her martyrs, her missionaries, her captains, her explorers, They gave Canada her greatest institutions of learning and her noblest foundations of charity, Their descendants have presented to a restles, feverish and faithless generation an example of content, of patience, of industry, of piety and of faith. Nor have they been wanting in the more sterling qualities of energy and enter. prise, and patriotism. They have been growing in wealth, they have established great commercial houses, founded great banks, and, though lacking the tireless en- ergy of the Anglo Saxons, they have made great strides in overtaking them in the pursuits which are considered as the chief support of the country’s wealth and stays bility. Their lawyers, doctors, priests and literary men, are the equals in learning, skill, eloquence and cultivation of any in the country.

This latest idea otf banding together all the French speaking people on the contins ent and of bringing back to Canada half a million of the expatriated people shows that noble impulses are as active as ever.

No doubt there is much to daunt the timid mind in this gigantic proposal; yet it is not at all impossible of accomplishment. The “Globe” throws cold water upon it; but then the ‘Globe ” is not friendly to the Lower Canadians no more than Toronto is friendly to Montreal ; and as the former city would go the length of injuring the lat- ter, so the ‘* Globe” in the political inter- ests of Ontario would prevent the accom: plishment of a scheme that would benefit Quebec immeasurably. The means of bringing back the 50),000 from the United States must be supplied largely by the Pro- vince of Quebec itself, mainly perhaps by the national Association and in a great measure by the individual efforts of French Canadian capitalists, farmers and manufacs turers. They must establish more manu- facturies, since it is in mannfacturies that the expatriated are earning their living. They must go more exclusively into culti- vation of farm lands. They must provide passages. They must grant lands. They must bid individual and humble eftorts to settle and cultivate. In the United States the position of the French Canadians, ex- cept in individual cases is not much desired, The report read on St. Jean Baptiste’s day sets it forth :—

The majority of their compatriots in the United States are employed in manufac- tures. <A feware, however, clerks, »hysi- cians, lawyers and priests. A very small proportion are employed in agriculture, except in the Western States. The greats est misfortune of the emigrants, it is men- tioned, is the almost total absence of edus cated men. The disadvantages under which they labor through the isolation con- sequent upon their ignorance of English, and the absence of Catholic and French schools, is strongly represhnted. It is stat~ ed that under the circumstances they read~ ily perceive that their compatriots in the States can exercise no perceptible political influence ; the majority are not naturalized, and taking no interest in party politics, the elections take place out of their sphere. The number of the rich among them is very small, and the majority live from hand to mouth. ‘Their position from every point of view leaves much to be desired, and hence it is not astonishing that they, in general, exhibit a very ardent desire to return to the country where they will find compat- riots, friends, a numerous and devoted cler- gy, a powerful organization, and a political system affording them the exercise of the rights of free men.

Under these circumstances it would not at all be difficult to draw most of these peos ple back aguin to Canada. But having left their country because it offered them no advantages of labor they will hardly return till they can improve themselves, It may be said, and with much truth, that many if not most of them left, not because of any lack of work in their own country, but be- cause of a spirit of adventure and a desire te seek change in a new country of which they had heard such glowing eulogies. And as they have not found the new land all that their fancy had painted it, and because they lack in it hundreds of miaor adyan- tages which they had in their own land, no very great excess of inducement would be needed to make them return. The matter is in*their own hands and in the hands of this new formed Association, and in the of the patriotic men who are individually moving in the splendid scheme. May the scheme prosper ; if it does there will be no greater names in the modern history of Canada than those of the men who formed this magnificent scheme end who may car ry it out to at least a partially successful conclusion.

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A left hand writer in the Scientific Ameri- can gives some reasons why it is better to write as he does. The hand is never in the way of vision, the pen point is always in plain sight, and sois the paper to be written on. There is, consequently, no induces ment to stoop forward or to turn the head 80 as to throw the eyes out of focus. It is a common fau't with those who write much that the left eye has ashorter range than the right. It is overworked and compelled to adapt itself to near vision. In writing with the left hand these evils are avoided. An uprigh, posture is the easiest, and the eyes are equally distant from the paper.

Sreamers on THE St. Lawrence.—A pows erful company has been formed in Lower Canada, in direct opposition to the Richi- lieu Company, whose magnificant steamers, plying between Montreal and Quebec, have been the pride of the St. Lawrence. The new Company is called the Union Navigas- tion Company. Its capital stock is three hundred thousand dollars, divided into six hundred shares. Two fine steamers, finer than the Richilieu Company, have been pur- chased, and will at once be put into opera- tion. There is every prospect of a revival on the St. Lawrence of the old time- when one cou'd travel from Quebec to Mons treal or vice versa for a shilling. —St, Globe.

THE GREAT STEAM HAMMER.

A work of national importance has been consummated in the completion of the stupendous steam hammer, erected in the Royal Gun Factories, Royal Arsenal, Wools wich, for the manufacture of the great artillery of the future. The apparatus, which was ordered to be in readiness, if possible, by the Ist of May, in anticipation of the visit about to be paid to England by the Emperor of Russia, has been, by dint of industry, finished a week within the date, and yesterday morning, in the pre- sence of Colonel Campbell, C. B. R. A., superintendent of the department, and other officers,the steam pipes were charged for the first time and the hammer was worked. At the first time it moved with the greatest possible ease, and the big steam cranes on either side, each of which will lift from eighty to one hundred tons, swung round with perfect freedom. One of the cranes lifted into its place a huge steam cylinder, which is to be employed to lift one of the furnace doors. The enor, mous power of the new hammer can only be fully realized by seeing it in operation ; to say it is the largest and most powerful in the world conveys but a faint idea of its magnitude and capabilities. Although it has been described as a 30-ton hammer, the weight of the falling portion is really within a few pounds of 40 tons, and the force of falli g weight is accelerated many times by the use of steam to drive it down from the top. It is estimated that the use of ‘top-steam’ is equal to allowing the hammer lo fall of its own weight froma height of eighty feet. It has been allowed a striking fall of 15ft. 3in., and it has not yet been determined what is the actual force of the blow it wili strike. The hams mer is forty-five feet in height, and covers with its supports a base of about 120ft. square. Above the ground it weighs 500 tons, and the iron used in the foundation below weighs 665 tons. It has cost alto- gether about £50,000, the greater part of which has been paid to Messrs. Nasmyth, Wilson, and Co., the patentees and manu- facturers. On Thursday, one of the fur- naces from which the hammer is to be fed was also set to work. It is large enough to make a comfortable dwelling house, and an omnibus might be driven in at the door-way. ‘The door of the furnace weighs 7 tons, and is, as usual, an iron frame filled in with fire br cks of which it required 1500. The Emperor of Russia will, it is expected visit the Royal Arsenal about the third week in Nay, when the heaviest pors tion of an 80 ton gun will be welded by this hammer in his presence.

Some progress has already been made in the Royal Gun Factories at Weolwich Ar- senal, in the manufacture of the experis mental 80-ton gun, which is intended to furnish data for the construction of the guns of the Jnjlerible. The length of the gun over all will be 27ft., the bore being 24ft. long. The calibre will be 14 inch, ld inch, 16 inch successively, the gun being bored up after each series of experiments. The 14 inch calibre will take a projectile of 11001b., firing a maximum charge of about 190lb. of specially manufactured powder ; the 15 inch will take a 1400lb. shot and about 245lb. of powder ; the 16 inch will throw a 1650lb. shot with about 300lb. of powder. The heaviest gun now in the service, the 12.35 tons (Woolwich Infant) can pierce 15 inches of iron at the muzzle. The ranges at which the projectiles for the 80 ton gun will perform the same feet will be—for the 14-inch shot, 3300 yards, for the 15-inch shot 5200 yards; and for the 16-inch shot, 650) yards; the Woolwich Infant will penetrate 14 inches of iron, but the 80-ton gun, with a 14.inch calibre, will pierce about 17 inches; with 15-inch calibre, about 18} inches; and*with the 16-inch calibre, about 20 inches. The maximum ranges at which shells could be thrown into a fortress will be—for the 12. inch, about 9000 yards; I4sinch, 10,000 yards; 15-inch, 10,200 yards; 16-inch, 10,- 300 yards, or close upon six miles. — Broad Arrow, May 9th.