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THE DEPARTED YEAR.

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Of Time's unquiet sea, another wave » Hath by us swept into the awful void Of dim oblivion! the eternal grave Of man’s brief years, by al! the post uncloyed. Another billow rolls, and we are buoyed And borne atil! onward to the guilt, whose shore Is etrown with wrecks of human hopes destroyed, And with the dust of all that’s gone before: Where all that is to come shall perish evermore.

All. save the deathless, the triumphant soul, Which shall behold the chaos of tuat hour,

When Time's old foot has reached its utmost goal, And fall the fire storin eager to devour

~ CHARLOTTETOW

A WEEKLY JOURNAL OF POLITICS; LITERATURE AND NEWS, _

Chis is true Liderty, when Fre-born Men, having to advise the Public, may speak free——eoRrPmes.

—— eaten a cetera =

a —_——— ————

= a was

| ‘Then we shall want documents to show that you are the ‘said the boy, ‘ besides which I don’t like any dirty under- man who enlisted in 1843 in ihe regiment.’ mining sort of tricks, though I’m as fond of a spree as most | *There will be no difficulty about that,’ said the soldier. | fellows; so I came out here to look for you, and let you know '« My character stands well in the regiment, and my officers will immediately what they’re up to. Well, and so you know, I _giveeme whatever I require of that sort, if the papers I have was alone in the office this morning, and so I was improvin in my own possession are not sufficient. But now there’s the occasion by getting ready a trick to play off upon old one question which I suppose you will not object to answer. | Mitchell, when, by jingo! I heard him coming in! I knew |When I've got the certificates, and what not, and danced /I should catch it if I was found out, so I popped down ina )attendance in this office, for nobody knows how long, shall I| corner and hid myself. Well, in comes old Mitchell and get nothing for my pains, or will all this trouble have been another feller, a law attorney he is—I know him well enough. | thrown away ? Looker and Booker give him dirty work to do sometimes. | ‘df the result is anything like what we may reasonably | Well, old Mitchell goes to Jones’s desk and reads your name expect,’ replied the clerk, ‘ I should say it would be decidedly | and address for t’other feller tocopy. ‘ Now,’ says he, ‘ mind |worth your while to go on with the business. There is some | and go to him this evening. Offer him fifty for his chance,’ | property.’ says he. ‘Tell him you speculate in such things—that it’s a

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| ‘You might not think the amount worth the trouble of; mere toss-up whether you win or lose. Palaver him over,’

N, PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND, MONDAY, JANUARY 1, 1855. | seam

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Earth’s rock-ribb’d mountains, whose iced summits tower Like beacon lights above the boiling sea! Then o'er the ruin shall the spirit soar To that fair world, whose peaceful years shall be ‘The bright—the hajlowed cycles of Eternity.

‘raising his bead or throwing back his lank hair.

The soldier looked doubtfully at the two speakers; but he seemed to be decided by the indiscreet though sotto voce ex- clamation of a youngster, who said in a tone of -derision, ‘Oh crikey! not worth the trouble!’

‘I will go on with it,’ he said; ‘at least till you think proper to let me know what I goon for. I can stop if I choose [ suppose ?”

‘There’s nothing at all to compel you to go on,’ said the clerk who had spoken first.

‘It is a very unusual proceeding tb draw back when once you have entered on the business,’ said the lank-haired clerk, in a tone that sufficiently indicated a sneer, though his face was still concealed. | ‘It would rather be so,’ replied the soldier, ironically, |‘ involving as it does a contradiction in terms at the very ‘commencement,’ and he bent his shaggy black brows with | something very like a scowl upon@he fellow who would not look a man in the face who spoke to him.

‘Old Mitchell has got his match, I think,’ whispered the indiscreet youngster.

‘Then it seems that nothing more can be done till I have obtained a certificate of my baptism,’ continued Hardcastle ;

A year hath pass’d—e'en as the dial’s shade, That moves so swiftly, silently away. What fearful changes hath its passage made! How much of sorrow saw erch fleeting day! ‘How oft hath Disappointment barred the way To Hope's most eager footsteps —turning back The weary heart, to go again astray. Oh, man! thou wanderest on a cheerless track, Compelied at bitter streains thy burning thirst to slake >

Within thy narrow scope, departed year, How oft hath opened the remorseless grave ! While death sat smiling o'er tie sable bier, In silent mockery of the pangs he gave. How hath the monster on the ocean wave Flapp’d his dark wings amid the awful storm! Where strove in vain the hardy and the brave ? In joy’s bright halls, how many a beauteous form Hath the stern spectre pierced, to feast the grov'ling worm!

These tell thy history, but tel! not all, A fairer page thy brighter hours may claim ;

Thou hadat thy scenes the heart would fain recall, ‘and, | meg e letter from the clergyman of Langton, | Sweet, joyous :noments, worthy of the name, | stating the time at which I left the village, and another from | . O’er which, with sadd’ning spell, no sorrow came, my colonel, proving that I joined the recru‘ting-party on the

Wien from his deep debasement rose again ‘The husband and the father, won from shame ; Resolved no more the madd’ning cup to drain,

How great, how sweet the joy, tho’ bought with years of pain.

following day ;—this will be sufficient to prove that I am ; myself and no one clse, will it not ?

| ‘I cannot take upon me to say exactly what will be sufiicient,’ replied the clerk, ‘ but those will be sufficient to begin with.’

| ‘Why can you not tell me in a straightforward way what , the object of this advertisement is?’ demanded Hardcastie, with’an impatient sigh, ‘I should then know how to act} whereas | am now groping about in the dark without even the fuintest idea of what | am likely to find.’

Scarce boasts our darksome Jot a sweeter hour, Than when from wand’ ring o’er the trackless tide, The anxious watcher by the surf-worn shore Sees v’er the wave the vessel waily glide, Bearing again the loved one to her side, Aad when on fever’s restless couch is laid The form more cherished than the world beside And to our prayer death's threatened blow is staid, Ob ! is net then the heart by joy’s blest spirit swayed ?

‘ The object of the advertisement,’ replied the senior clerk, | having recourse to the friction of his hands, as though that operation would have a soothing effect on the nerves of the client, ‘ the object of the advertisement, is to fiud out a man. | You present yourself saying that you are that man. I don’t pretend to deny that fact; but at the same time the law re- ‘quires proefs—prcofs, my dear sir, such as the law itself express'y poluts out as requisite in these cases, in which a persou’s own consciousness cannot be received as any proof iat ci. If it were, any person’s assertions might be considered asa proof. For example, you would be justly indignant if the Jaw, for want of careful examination into the matter, might hand over what of course belongs to-you, to some one else who might come here saying he was Walter Hardcastle,

And swch were thine, old year, nor these alone, Each month, aach changing season gave tts store

Of rich and varied blessings freely strown, Toteach man’s thankless spirit to adore.

The early Spring the buds of promise borr, Advancing Summer her kind influence shed,

And her fair gifts did bounteous Autumn pour In avely Winter's lap) = Bat thou art fled

For ay, to thy dark home with the returnless dead !

—_—_—

The Soldier’s Legacy.

‘Tf Walter Hardeastle, born at Langton, in the county of ——_—, and who is supposed to have enlisted in a foot regiment going to India, about the year 1545, will call at the effice of Messrs. Looker and Booker, Pump Court, Temple, he will hear of something to his advantage.’

Who was this Walter Hardcastle? Was he a man of family and education who had run away from his friends, and was now called for, to take possession of his hereditary estates? Or was he merely a poor illiterate soldier, with his brains baked by the heat of a tropical sun, and stupified by the constriction of his stock? The readiest way to obtain satisfaction on these points clearly was to go to the office of Messrs."Leoxer and Booker, and see whether Walter Hard- <eastle had been heard of

I had not been long in the office when a tall broad- shouldered man entered. His erect carriage bespoke him a soldier, though there was nothing in his dress to indicate sit, and his bronzed face and hands showed that he had but srecently returned froma burning climate. The clerks looked -at each other, and I heard the name of Hardeastle whispered

native of Langton, and lately returned from the Indies. Would you not, my dear sir?”

‘Yes, yes, I see,’ replied the soldier, carelessly, ‘no doubt it’s all right. But still I can see nreason you should not tell me what the something advantageous may be. If I had any relations who might be likely to leave me a legacy, I could give a guess; or evenif [ had any kind friend, I might fancy a windfull had come to me that way. But I was an ‘orphan as soon as I was born, as [ grew I was the bad boy lof the village; so of course I had no friends, Can’t you ‘tell me thus much—If I prove myself to be the person you are seeking, will whatever I shall gain be sufficient to repay me for getting these proofs, loss of time, trouble, and so on ?

‘ [ do not know what you may understand by paying for all this,’ answered the clerk, ‘ I do not know what may be the value of your time. But I should imagine that even a hundred pounds might be an object to any one not In very affluent circumstances.’

‘Unless he spent two hundred in obtaining x,’ remarked | ‘the down-looking clerk, keeping his nose carefully within

-among them. The new comer was evidently an object of| two inches of the desk. interest to all of them, except one, who held his head close! ‘ Well, then,’ said the soldier, paying no attention to this

a4 down to the desk and seemed absorbed in the document he | observation, ‘Tl get these proofs and bring them here. By a" .was copying; but from the lynx-like glances that he darted | that time you may consider yourselves at liberty to give me ie through the long, lank hair which hif attitude threw over his | some information. 1 There is my address. Good-day.

Ag faee, n to imagine that he might be more really ob-| With a stiff military bow he turned and left the office.

servant of the soldier than all his brother clerks put together. | The next evening he was returning from a school where | ad ‘The stranger, meauwhile standing in the middle of the | he had been drilling a phalanx of riotous boys, when a pert -lear space beyond the desks, deliberately took from his| young cracked voice, calling him by his name, caused him to | 4 poeket the ‘Times’ newspaper; deliberately unfolded it; pause and turn round. deliberately sought out the advertisement for Walter Hard-|" + How do you Mr. Hardcastle ? said a led in a stand-up eastle, and .then deliberately prescnting it to the nearest | eollar, a hat sik ‘on One ddd OF Wie head; and avery bed elerk, asked him what it meant. cigar in his mouth, | ‘The meaning is explained quite clearly in the advertise-| + { am in perfect health, I thank you, young gentleman,’ | ment,’ replied the clerk. ‘When the right man presents | replied the tall soldier, smiling good humoredly as he looked 7 himself, and proves tbat he is the right man, we shall be in a down on the strutting little maunikin ; ‘will you favor me position to state what it is that we know of to his advantage.’| with your name? You know mine, it seems; but [ have ‘What soct of a thing is it?’ demanded the soldier. ‘Is ‘not the pleasure of recollecting you. ncesihthianeaka it some money, or what? I don’t want to be told all the| ‘ My uame’s of no consequence, me the ho “ oy, | particulars: but you may as well give me an idea about it, | puffing away at bis ergar with increase eine ans you | it so that [ may ste whether I am likely to be the man you, wouldn't be any the wiser if I was to tell you. owever | | want.” it’s Wilkins. IL saw you yesterday at Looker and Booker’s, | ‘Oh dear no!’ replisd the clerk, rubbing his hands mildly, | you know.’ od ey and smiling the euinias Sqile of one who feels himself Shuat | ‘Ah! yes, I remember you now,’ said Hardcastle, smiling | too deep to be sounded by s0<jmple a contrivance as a dixget | as he recognised the indisereet eae Bstiodaia | question. ‘ Exeuse me—it wold not do togive any insight; ‘ And you said, you know,’ continued the boy, ‘1 hat you | into the business until the right party is found: If you can ‘were the bad boy of the village, and that made me like you. prove yourself to be that party, “« would be a different’ ‘Froma fellow-fecling, may-be, suggested the soldier. | matter altogether.’ ‘} ¢ Perhaps,’ replied Mr. Wilkins, with a sly wink .< however, | *L know that T am Walter Hardea¥e,’ replied the | I had a chance of doing you a good turn, and cilcumventing soldier; ‘I know that I was born at Lan&on, about the! old Mitchell—you know old Mitchell? he demanded, in- year 1824; I wentto India in 43, and returnedto England terrupting himself ten months ago, Is that sufficient.to prove me to béwyself?| ‘Le.n't say I do,’ replied the other. — 0 * Quite sufficient for your own satisfaction, supposiny, you! ‘ Down-looking chap—lanky black hair—talks like this,’ |

|

ever bad any doubts upon thot point,’ said the clerk, witka said the boy, imitating the manner and drawling tone of the | complacent emiggle : ‘but we require stronger proofs to\down-looking clerk. : establish your identity in the eye of the law. In the first. ‘I know who you mean,’ said the soldier, laughing ; ‘ of place we must have a certificate of your baptism.’ ‘is old Mitchell, is he!’

* That's very easily got,’ observed Hardcastle, | ‘NXes,and I owe him a great many spites and_7

‘recovering it,’ observed the clerk in the corner, without | says he, ‘about the risks he may run, and the long bills of

costs,’ says he; ‘tell him it’s only a legacy from an old miser,’ he says, ‘and set aside on a plea of insanity. And then,’ says he, ‘ when you’ve frightened him about the trouble

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feeling much humbler than was at all usual with him, but for a wonder, thinking very seriously. 7

reached his lodgings, and offered him fifty ‘down his chance of a legacy under old Wilderspin’s will, was qu’ but decidedly repulsed, and within a week after he ceeded in establishing his identity ; he had good rea congratulate himself‘on having followed his young “fri ceunsel, for he found himself the possessor of considerably: property, including the old house at Langton, the ono in which the old miser had both lived and died. His very first act was to furnish Mr. Wilkins with the means of going to Australia, and his next was to go down to Langton, and to superintend in person the complete renovation of his newly acquired house. A curious fact had come to the knowledge of Hardcastle during the course of the law proceedings. He found that old Mr. Wilderspin bad had a sister, who had married, and _ left two daughters : one had gone to India asa governess in a

and the costs, till you’ve brought him to a proper frame of} family, and the other had married a lawyer named Mitchell,

mind, says he, bring out that deed, aud -get him to sign it. Give him the fifty for his chance, and say you’ve perhaps booked yourself for some hundreds. Tell as many lies as you like,’ he says; ‘I know no man who can gammon another better than you,’ says he; ‘I'll pay you thot compliment,’ says he. Well the other chap grinned and bowed, as if it was a compliment, and off he goes. And so I came out this evening to look for you, aad put you on your guard”.

‘I cannot understand what they are driving at,’ said tht soldier.

‘Did you ever know an old miser in your village? asked Mr. Wilkins, and then lighted his cigar.

‘There was an old gentleman named Wilderspin, who was called a miser; but I think he was only yery poor.’

‘That’shim! exclaimed Mr. Wilkins. ‘ You did him a good turn once, didn’t you ?

‘ Nothing particular,’ replied Hardcastle ; ‘ I thrashed some young fellows that were tormenting and insulting him, that's ail.’

‘It was the best day’s work you ever did, I'll be bound,’ said the youth, ‘that old fellow was very rich, and he has left you something in his will. ~I don’t know how much, but it is sure to be something handsome, or they would not take all this trouble to get you to sign away you claim.’

‘I’m much obliged to you for your warning,’ said Hardcastle ‘you may be sure I will sign no paper of that kind. It amazes me, though to think of that peor miserable old man having property to leave zay one; 1 always imagined he was wretcheily poor. ‘Though he had been brought up a gentle- man, and | was-well edueated, he kept no servant, and lived in the most sordid way you can imagine. He darned and patched his own clothes, i believe. It was beenuse he came

jout with his old black coat brightened up with reviver that

these young fellows fe!l upon him and drenched him with dirty water, I had got a good thick stick iu ~y hand, and gave them alla taste of it! “The old maw got‘l witht says ing a word to me; in fact I thought he did ot see me, or if he did, that he wouldn’t know who I was. Hawever thai may be, I made the place too hot for me to stay inwith’any com- fort. The fellows I had thrashed were the nobs of the place—ihe squire’s son, and so on, and they were always at me; and then the clergymen took meinhand. He talked to me kindly, and said that I was not so bad as I might have been, considering the way I had been bullied and teased into doing something that would send me abroad against my will; and he advised me to get clear out of it altogether. There was a recruiting-party a few miles off, and he advised me to enlist. Idid, and I always thought that was the best day's work IT had ever done; and perhaps it was, for the training [ got was worth more to me than the old miser’s money can ever be.’ ~

The soldier walked on, talking as he went, more as if he were talking to himself than addressing his young companion, who kept close to him, with his eyes fixed on his sunburnt face, and lost not a word that he uttered.

‘We had a first rate colonel,’ continued Hardcastle; ‘ he enforced the strictest discipline; but he took great care of his men, and looked after their comfort and instruction, and even their amusements. And the officers, too,—they were not like the officers of some regiments I have often heard of. They behaved to oue another like gentlemen; and if any of them ever forget their own self-respect so far as to play off tricks upon another, and annoy him because perhaps he was

| poorer, or more quiet and studious than the rest, I'l] answer

for it the colunel would give them a lesson that they’d be the better of all their lives. Yet there never was a complaint agaiist him, for he was as strict in the performance of his own duties as he was in making others perform theirs. So we got the eredit of being the best conducted rogiment wher- ever we went, though I’ve no doubt that if our colonel had neglected his duties or had wanted force of character to make himself obeyed or respected, we should have been as unruly a set of unlicked cubs as ever disgraced Her Majesty’s uni- form.

‘ However, I amongst others reaped the benefit of the colo- nel’s good management. I joined the regiment nothing but a grown-up boy, ready for any wickedness that might offer; | but when I got my discharge, I also got certificates of good | conduct. My lad!’ said the soldier, stopping suddenly, and | laying his strong band kindly on the youngster’s shoulder, ‘ you have done me a service, or had the will to do it, which is the same thing. I would like to do you some good in re- turn; but you must follow my advice, as I followed the clergyman’s, In the first place throw away the nasty cigar ; it is not tobacco; and if you must smoke, take a clay pipe. But you won't do that, f know. You smoke more for the look of the thing, and because you fancy it is fine and manly —now don’t you'?’

The boy hang his head sheepishly, and the cigar dropped to hi where it remained twirling about till it fell aemingly by accident ; but it was not picked up

into his fingers to the gre again. ‘The money ¢ rolls of cabbage-led fu country excu book by the end ¢ first piece vic he grate. Think well of wh sult when [ meet you again. *

would suffice to take you out on a health- , or buy you a — edition of a good he week,’ said the soldier ; ‘that ig m

The next is—leave the law, and emi-

FOC -bye.” they parted: Mr. Wilkins

fat you waste on these unpleasant smelling |

and settled at Langton. As soon as this name was mention- ed, Hardcastle saw as clear as daylight why ‘ Qld Mitchell’ had kept his face concealed, and also from what disinterested motives be had sent his kind friend to try to talk him out of his expectations. Mitchell had been one of the y fellows whom he had beaten for annoying the miser. Muck amused by the discovery, he went down to . The miser’s house was a pretty and picturesque habitation, which. could speedily be converted into a most delightful and elegant abode under the eye of its present owner; who, though he had served as a common soldier, had read much, had trr~el- led, had observed, and above all, had felt and suffered. As soon as the library and bed-room -were rendered habitable, he left the inn and took up his abode under his own roof. But in proportion as everything around seemed to smile upon him, a_deeper and deeper gloom settled upon his soul. Often while directing some improvement in the garden cr a farm-yard, an idea would strike like a sharp dagger to his heart, and he would retreat to his library, muttering in accents of despair, ‘It comes too Iate!’ A deep and lasting regret shadowed his whole life.

Oue morning he was summoned from the garden by Iris servant, who informed him that a lady in widow’s mourning had cxlled to inquire for Mr. Wilderspia, and was then Waiting in the library. Hardcastle hastened into her pre- sence, she was standing with her back towards the window, so that he could not distinguish her features.

‘I trust you will pardon this intrusion, sir, she began ; but at the first sound of her voice he started, gasped, and caught at the back of the chair for support. ‘Good Heavens !’ she cried, throwing back her veil. ‘ Hardcastle! Is it possible!’

‘It is indeed,’ he answered, scarce audibly. ‘ By a mere strange chance made wealthy,’ although, he added bitterly, ‘not a gentleman.’

‘That you always were,’ she added, in a low, clear tone, ‘and the chance of outward circumstances will prove it. EL came here to seek a relative; but hearing at the inn that he was dead, I determined to ask his heir whether anything bad been left me, little expecting whom I was to meet in that character.’

‘Were you related then to Mr. Wilderspin? fluttered Hardcastle,

‘He was my mother’s uncle,’ she replied.

‘How very strange!’ said Hardcastle —‘and still more strange that you should come in person on this errand, in- instead of sending a lawyer.’

‘Not at all under the circumstances,’ she replied; ‘ for lawyers are expensive Juxuries. My dress informs you that I have lost my husband ; I have also lost my fitther. He was too just and too liberal to save much, so that 1 am com- paratively poor. My mother always had expectations of in- heriting some property from her uncle, and therefoge [ now have come both to see her native place and make inquiries about my grand-uncle and his property, little dreaming Yas I should meet an old acquaintance in possessieu of it.’

‘Miss Matthews ?—I beg pardon—Mrs. Lawrence, “I mean,’ said the soldier hesitating, —‘ Mr. Wilderspin left me his property from mere eaprice, and now that one having a better right to it has appeared, I cannot at all think of re- taining it. J'akeit, l entreat you. I yield up every claim to it, and all that I esk is to be allowed to remain near you, that I may see you and serve you. Make me your game- keeper and steward,’ he continued, kneeling at her feet and passionately clasping a fold of her dress ; ‘all I ask is that L may not be banished from your presence "

‘I should be basely ungrateful if I could take your wealth, and then let you stoop to be my servant —--——. : ‘I am born your servant,” he interrupted. ‘ Not so,’ she replied. ‘* By birth I am perhaps your supe- rior ; but you are my equal in education, and much ny supe- rior now in riches.’ ‘No, no; I am your servant,’ he persisted; ‘for I ama common soldier, and you are my colonel’s daughter, and the riches you speak of are not mine, no, they belong to you by right.’ ‘ Do not be so obstinate,’ she said; ‘ for even if my uncle had made no will, yet my mother had an elder sister, and she may have left children who would of course take precedence of me.’

‘Thatis very true,’ he replied, thinking of old Mitchell, ‘ How then can I hand over this property to you ? ‘It is not for me to point out the way,’ she said, coldly, as

‘No—do net go yet!’ he exclainy “Stay a moment, for J am mad and, enough to keep the secret gnawing

ese 2 Six ?—Ten eT dui were a sweet chil. when I ioined y was entrusted to set youon your you and take care of you. Time *. found one day that I was receivi’ w man's foot and that my colo girl, whom I was helping o; sometimes me at to me. used to tremble, once’ figure was for 2 m i was an accident with a cobs.

‘Ido indeed,’ she replied 5.

have said, and tell me the re~| to seize the terrible creature

‘My hope was s

He shook the boy’s hand ar watched the retreating figug marched down the street, wit turned to pursue his own Vv

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» of his new friend g- * ‘s | ' Srp

lasting place in yout wireature did not hiv”

{EDITOR ayo PUBLISHER ~_

The boy’s warning was not thrownaway. The ; te attorney who called upon Hardcastle sii shar he bel e 5

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she rose and moved towards the door, et

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