ees Cenwvre se -

— oF

ow anh Sara

en vOL. XXV.

4

THE EXAMINER.

CH

“TLOSING AND ARRIVAL OF MAILS,

:

aST OFFICE, CHARLOTTETOWN, P, E. ISLAND,

AFTER WONDAY, tith WAY.

; i—_- MA Yra * aa ‘ S ~ ; ‘ i ) ‘ 8 B xen at ys ‘ ‘ ) s i ‘ : i : ‘ ~ : &

+ ie aaa cE ics enema en

-_ =

3} DUE M Ly Wednesday, and Friday, 6 p. m W I and Friday. \ e 4 alternate Sat iay uinmencipg Nat day May, 1 p. m vei , Mond., Wed., and Friday. 10-30, p. m. Sime as Great Britain, via Halifax. D ¥. Sui day ex epted, a Daily, Sunday excepted, 2 sday, Friday, 2 p. m \\ sday. Saturday. 7 1 Sa » I i W esday. F lav . - I y m. a ltl 1 5 s Registration \ must be pre @ tim their 4. A. MACDONALD, Postmaster.

| Dusiness Cards.

i + ;

\. D, SHIRREFF, Ketionser, Coumissio: Merchant, BtronKkheretk GENERAL AGENT.

SWICA.

AND HATHA CONSIGNMENTS

‘

Mr. C.

eo es xe

Veterinary Surgeon,

LONDON. GREAT BRITAIN.

rHERS, (UCTION: E Commission Merchants,

GENERAL AG

BANK BUILDING, QI

JAMES BRENAN,

a a a pee es Anse, Sign, and Carriage Painter,

Paper Hanger Glazier

SOURIS WEEN'P.

RO

©

i.

ruivgTe ENTS. EEN

mt ieial

Is

‘ a

Orders

~ +o“

daly 7, 1573 ly H. R. MUHLICS’

Kitchen & Galley,

Furnistisimngg depot.

ALSO, DEAL} iN KINDS OF Ship Work, qctrrErs Wat Closet. Pipes, J Lea Figures. I 1 and Hand- Leads, Lead Cist — uml Water

Closets fitted ‘ sithceaiilh | iaiitaihll wit

CREIGHTON sTRE&’

OPPOSITE UNION IIOUSE., PICTOU, N, 8S.

JOSEPH CREAMER,

Physician & Surgeon, Ciz 7 HOTZ, CHARLOTTETOWN.

Patients att. ' rs id con tation MON

DAYS, from 1 to 4, }

BANGOR HOUSE, PLEASANTLY SITUATED ON North Side King’s Square,

St John, - - - New Brunswick. J H. RUSSEL, PROPRIETOR.

F. M. CAMPBELL.

General Meorchant COM MISS Td> Nw ACs iNT.

AVOVION EERE BROKER TRINITY CORNER, GEORGETOWN, P. ELI

Mandard Life Insurance Co.

~

VULCAN FOUNDRY ww... SEORGETOWN.

"IUVES w . nd r WINDLASS Sed MACHIN]

Ways 05 har

RY CASTIN

‘(75 in genera, &i-

; < ash Paid 7 POR ALL k INDS of OLD & SCRAP IRON

: J. A. RUTHERFORD & Co, *une 2 4 \ Georgetown

WILLIAM DODD,

Commission Merchant and AUCTIONEER _ QUEEN SQUARE, CHARLOTTETOWN, P. E &. Lawrence Marine Insur- ance Co. of P. E, Island.

.

ISLAND

Boano or Dirnecrors Atcuipaty Kexnepy, Esq.. President. Joun F. Konenrson. Esa.

A&TEMAs Loup Esq Rarru B. Pyrans Esq. P. W. Hyspman, Esq sHOMAS Mornis, Esq,

D. Stewart Esq

daily at their office, Exchange

FREDERICK W. HYNDMAN, Chitown, March 16, 1874.—ly Secretary ,

rr. Ee.

ISLAND

STEAMERS! I

Summer Arrangement

7 : "a. ar a fon Miisede a faiter suesaay, seth Mav,

Cot STEAMER

St. Lawrence & Princess of Wales

eave the Company's Wharf, wea<

ther permitting, as under: 1 ee ee Q ; | or Shediac and Summerside. sry Tuesday, Thursday, and Satur- lay,at o'clock in the morning.

R turning from Shediac,

Wednesday, Friday, and Monday, on

rival of train from St. John.

Pictou and Hawksbury,

very Tuesday and Thursday morning t five o'clock, and for PICTOU &

2 | STEAM NAVIGATION COMP'Y’S | |

wo —

ARLOTTETOWN,

POETRY.

LL ON I I A A Te

SONG OF THE FLAIL.

In the autumn, when the hollows All are filled with flying leaves, And the colonies of swallows Quit the quaintly stuccoed eaves, And a silver mantle glistens Over aJl the misty vale, Sits the little wife and listens To the beating of the flail— To the pounding of the flail, By the cradle sits and listens To the flapping of the flail.

| The bright summer days are over, And her eye no longer sees

The red bloom upon the clover,

| The deep green upon the trees: Hushed the songs of fineh and robin.

With the whistle of the quail;

But she hears the mellow throbbing Of the thunder of the flail, The low thunder of the flail

Though the amber air the throbbing

And reverberating flail.

; Inthe barn the stout young thresher | Stooping stands with rolled-up sleeves, Beating out his golden treasure From the ripped and rustling sheaves : Oh, was ever knight in armor— Warrior alli in shining mail— Half soShandsome as her farmer As he plied the flying flail ?— |} The bsre-throated, brown young farmer, As he swings the sounding flail’

; Allthe hopes that saw the sowing, All the sweet desire of grain,

All the joy that watched the growing And the yellowing ofthe grain, And the love that wentto woo her, And the faith that shall not fail

All are speaking softly to her In the pulses of the fail, Of the palpitating flail—

Past and Future whisper to her in the music of the flail.

| | | | j | | | Inits crib the babe is sleeping, } And the sunshine from the door All the afternoon is creeping Slowly round upon the floor; And the shadows soon will darken, Aad the daylight soon must pale, Whenthe wife no more shall harken To the tramping of the flail, To the dancing of the flail—

When her heart no 1nore shall hearken To the footfall of the flail

And the babe shall grow and strengthen, Be a maiden, bea wife,

While the moving shadows lengthen Round the dial of their life :

Theirs the trust_of friend and neighbor, And an age serene and hale,

When machines shall do the labor Of the strong arm and the flail,

Of the steut heart and the fiail—

Great machines perform the labor Of the good old fashioned flail

But when blessed among women, And when, honored among men, They look round them, can the brimming Of their utmost wishes then Give them happiness completer ? And can ease and wealth avail To make any music sweeter Than the pounding of the flail? Oh, the sounding of the flail! Never music can be sweeter Than the beating of the flail!

LITERATURE, “KATHARINE.

A TALE WOMAN'S

PAO Nee

OF TRIALS.

RETOWN, on Saturday, same hour Returning from Hawksbury,| Every Wednesday and Friday,and from |

GEORGETOWN, Monday.

From Pictou to Charlottetown, Svery Monday, Wednesday and Friday, on arriyal of train from Halifax: |

F. W. HALES.

ROYAL MAIL STAGE

e

Important to Travellers.

\ Express Team will 4 for Charlottetown,

on arrival of Boat

m Pictou, every alternate Saturday,com- ing July 11, and will return to George- } xt day in time to connect with boat } p All orders and parcels for the Express must be left at the ) Hiouse posite W. R. Watson's } Queen Street, Ch'town GEORGE O'NEILL Propriet laifway House’ Vernon River. ? June 29, 1874. h 2m 5

HERM4NS & SON,

Bel!-Haugers, Gan aud Tin-siniths,

QUEEN STREET,

\PPOSITE WATSON'S DRUG STORE, { BEG toretarn their thanks to the seneral yublie forthe liberal patronage extended m since their commencementin business, i ask for a continuance ofthesame. They yiatanty on hand

4 neat Asortmeni ot TINWARE, KITCHEN UTENSILS d&e., &€.-; Ac.

\LL ORDERS in the above BUSINESS wil be punctually attended io

laving lately made large purchases in the ‘heapest Markets,intended fer House Builders,

lias Pitting, Water Closets, Bel) Fittings, &., &c., lam prepared to SELL THEM at RATES LOW AS CAN BE HAD IN THE CITY, i will fit them up in a goo workmanlike style fo a generous public, we would nay, that all Ordere in THIS BRANC# OF OUR BUSI JicSS willbe attended to with Despatch tof Firat Class WATER COOLERS on

>

‘

A Lo

id.

Sayer’s Crystal Blue, Sold Cheaper than ever

Sov. 11, 1871

FIRE AND MARINE INSURANCE. IMPERIAL Fire [ngsurance Company

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

MONTREAL Mariue Assurance Commpaty.

Capital and 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’ tow n, Jan. 20, 1873. ly

AVOID QUACKS.

A vietim of early indiscretion,causing ner- vous 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- ferers. Address, J. H. REEVES, 78 Nas- sau Street, New York.

| sisters except in

| therefore, was the talk occasioned by the

leave Georgetown }

CHAPTER IL—Continued.

Mary Grove had been taken from home ip her infancy— adopted by a rich aunt, from whom her family had great expectations— and wae never spoken of by her mother and terms of envy. Great,

news of her promised visit; and not a few | the selfitgh speculations as to the presents

she would be likely to bring, and the stay } ee would make. Upon the appointed day | for her arrival all was bustle and hurry.

Mr. Grove was zone to London, to meet and bring his child bome; and in Great Charles»

street the whole household wasin commotion. | Mary was looked upon asa gieat Indy—one

who would, in all probability, be an heirese; and in her eagerness to welcome «o fortunate a chid, even Mre. Grove forgot to sev!d; ani for once Katharine enjoyed a day of The coach by which the travellers | were expected did noi come in until late io | tae evening; and the family were aseembied at an early tea, so that the younger children might be sent to bed before their sister came,

perce

when a cariiage was heard to stop at the door

For a moment a silent pause of wonder en< sued in the .poisy room, then a rush to the window, followed by one universal exclama~ tion of surprise at the eight which presents ed itself.

At the door stood a large post-chaise, from which, when Mrs. Grove looked out, her huge band was more than half lifting a figure, muffled up from head to foot in cloaks and furs ; and before ber astonishment had subs sided, Mr. Grove entered the room, supports ing—almost carrging—lis daughter, whom he had laid geatly on the sofa.

The action threw off the invalid’s bonnet, and Katharine, who bad eagerly watched the whole, started at the unearthly pallor and beauty of the face thas revealed. A smile of imexpressible sweetness played round Mary’s mouth as she extended her hand to her mother, who, awestruck and bewildered, stood aloof gazing at her; and in ao low, faint voice she said,—

‘ Mamma, have you forgotton me ?"’

A burst of natural tears—a vehement ex- clamation—and Mrs. Grove threw berse]f ups on her kueer, sobbing, by the sofa. Her husband Jeaned mournfully against the table his eyes fixed upon the child; and the young er members of the family, hushed and fright- ened, gathered into a group behind him. For a time Mary tried to calm and cheer her mother; but the exeition soon became too great for her etrength—her lips quivered, a cold dew broke out upon her brow, and Kas thatine eaw that she was fainting.

Half an hour after, she was carried up by her father into the smart spare room, which had been thus hastily prepared, for she had been destined to share Jane’s bed; and al- though that had been adorned specially for her reception, the idea of using the best room for onenf the family, however great in pros spective, never entered their mother’s head. For the thought she was indebted to her niece, since, regardless of the probable angry rebuff she might meet for meddling, Katharine whispered the suggestion to ber aunt; and having received a hasty eanction, ran quickly to assist in carrying itout. Upon Katharine, too, devolved the duty of tirewoman—Jane was too clumsy and the mother too nervous to be useful; while her willing and gentle fingere, once well accustomed to tendance upon the sick, moved quietly aud tenderly about her cousin.

‘Thank you, dear Kate,’ whispered Mary, as Katbarine’s quick eye detected an un- comfortable pillow, and removed it so gently as to cause her no disturbance. ‘ You are indeed a tender nurse. Will you often come to me?’

‘ Always, whenever you like,’ was the prompt reply.

| | | |

‘She may stay with yeu all night, dar, ling,’ said her mother. ‘She has nothing else to do; and if you’ve a fancy for it, she shall sit by you,’

‘Sit by me all night? Oh, mamma, how unreasonable and selfish that would be !’

‘Not at all, darling, you've a right to anything she or any of us can do—she ess pecially, seeing all your father acd me has done for her, so if you choose to have her company you can.’

‘ Where do you sleep Kate ?’

‘ Up with the children—but that’s veither here nor there, as [I said before, if you choose to have her Company you can.’

All this while Katharine had stood silent~ ly, ber eyes cast down and ner cheeks ciim» son. Mary looked at her, and holding out her hand said—

‘Well then, mamma, if Kate likes, 1 should very well like to have her, that is, if she will share my bed. Will you, Katie, dear? I'm not @ very restless compan» ion,

A warm, strong pressure of the hand answered this speech; and Mary saw tears begin to steal gently from under the long lashes of her cousin’s eyes and fall upon her cheek,

‘La, Mary darling, there’s no call for that. You needn't he crushed in your bed thatway. Katharine’s as strong as a pony , and one night’s sitting up won’t hurt her,’

* It would hart me, mamma,’ replied Mary gently, but with a slight tone of reproachfal soriow. ‘ [should be asbamed of myself, and | am sure you would too, if I could do such a selfish thing.’

‘Well, well, just as you like yourself. Only think of yourself darling, and don’t mind nobody else, that’s all.’

‘I'd offer to stay with pleasure, Mary dear,’ said Jane, * but I’m such a heavy sleeper I should be . » good to you ; and Kate's used to it—she’s @ capital hand. When Lucy was ill she nursed her famously. I should have been knocked up in half the time. J always say what a blessing it ia that, when paople have got to earn their own living, they should be strong like Kate. I wish 1 was; though to be sure I shall sever have the need.’

And so, with « complacent glance at the glars as she passed, and a conceited ‘ good night,’ the sister left the room, soon followed by her mother, whose minute aud reiterated directions to Kate to take care of her cousin, would have made 4 listner wonder why, if so much depended upon watcbfulness, ehe abandoned the duty to other hands.

But Kate, ever realy to sacrifice her own comfort to ensnre that of others, was even more than usually willing and eager to-night. Full of loving impulses, pining for Jove asa young bird for freedom, her beart had bounded hopefully at ths firat sweet souud of her cousin’s voice; and before she had uttered half the tew kind words we bave res corded, the young enthusiast, who had lates ly had so little to love, so mach to suffer, felt as if toil, sleepleseness—almost famiae— would be pleasant for her sake.

Aud, bapp ly for both, this feeling increas» ed steadily. Like a spendtbrift, Kate lae vished the whole rich treasure of ber affees tion upon the fadinz flower who seemed only come home todie; and Mary, better disei-

in Katharine’s mind, her words sowed the first eeeds of that firm, humble, yet resolute faith, which was so blossom and bear fruit in years yet farto come. Thus learuing and teaching the days went on; the hearts of both were earuest in the lesson, and lighter subjects were seldom introduced. Of Kaths arine’a position in the house—the slights aud taunts she endured, and her future plans of emaneipation—the young girls never spoke. It was Mary’s family who cheated and tyrannizad over her, and Katharine vould have died sooner than pain her, even by @ complaining word. But, watchful as tbe Was to repress the slightest exclamation, it was not always that she was mistress of her countenance. At some sudden provo~ cation, the quick hot blood would often rise, and the bright eye flash, and then, although sheturned quckly away, Mary could read thé indignation she did not speak.

Oue evening, Mrs. Grove had been wore than usually unkind, her temper was irri- tated by something which had been negleot- ed down stairs, and coming into Mary’sroom and finding Katharine there sitting on a stool at her feet, she poured upon her the whole storm of her wratb, ending with her usual eegant denunciation of ‘ beggars eating fdks out of house and home, and being too lazy to walk.’

Whetber Katharine was more than com- monty tired aud excited, or her aunt’s sneer was more than usually cruel, | do not know, but, for the first time in Mary’s presenoe, the fery heat of passion was quenched in a3 bitte: a flood of tears; and turning impetus ously round upon the stool, she buried her head upon her cousin’s knes and sobbed passbnately,

‘Oh, mother, mother!’ cried Mary sor- rowhilly, bending over the bowed and trems bling figure, ‘do not be so unjust—do not speak so cruelly to Kate! hav» distressed her !’

Ses how you

* Stuff and nonsense, Mary! You don't know ber as wellasI do. Some folks have crocodile tears always ready. What I've

said is true, aod sh@ knows it. She does no more for her living than a baby six monthe old.’

* What can she do more, mother? Surely you would not make ber wholly a servant? And see bow she nurses me. What should I do without ber—dear, kind, patient Kate.’ ‘Nurse you! Why, what’s the trouble you give? She has a fine tims of it, I think, and makes the most of it. An artful little minx, creeping up your sleeve in this way, but it shall come to an eu soon, I’m determined !’

And with a ewing and a toss ebe flung herself out of the room, banging the door violently after her.

For many minutes neither of the wrung hearts left behind spoke ; but at last Kate lifted up her head, and flinging back the clustering curls, looked into Mary’s face with euch # countenanee of mute agony, that her cousin shuddered ; then she said, in a deep concentrated voice—

* Mary, I must go. any longer.’

*Go! Where, Kate? ’

‘Anywhere. To the grave, if -I could. But there are plenty of girls as young as I whoearn their Own living in the factories,

I dare not stay here

plined, but scarcely less impulsive than her cousin, turned gladly {from her ungenial home and relatives to her.

Some internal injury, the result of aj mountain fall, and which the surgeons could neither nor cure, was bringing Mary to her grave. Nothing that surgicay skill and tender nursing could do to alleviate her sufferings was wanting; but, in spite of all, the patient’e agony was ofien fearful. Cold dews would bang in great beads upon her white, almost livid, brow ; her cheeks would seem to be sucked in with the tightly- held breath, while stifled groans, bravely struggled with, burst every now and then through he At such times, Mrs. Grove would weep with helpless anger —raving against the pain, the doctor, the fall, and the medicines ; making a great noise but doing nothing, while Jane ran away, cowardly shunning she sight of tor- ture she had not unselfiehness to nurse, and noue but Katharine remained to comfort and

ascertain

closed lips,

watch the sufferer.

It was a sore trial to both; for Mary pined even among her kind Scottish friends fo the love and tenderness of a mother, avd had locked forward with a feverish yearning to her siste:’s companionship, while Kate who had given her her whole heart, an¢ hong upon her words and lovks with @ love which was almost idolatry, saw her day by day dying in agony away, and knew that very soon she would be alone again,

It must have been fancy, for in Mre Grove’s child there was no real rela tionship to Mrs. Eyre, buat Katharine’s eyes had from the first imaginod a strong likeness between her mother and Mary, and, looking at ber cousin sleeping after a severe battle with pain, sbe often identified the living with the dead, and thus increaeed her grief tenfold. It was a sad, strange sight to see those two young girls alone in that chamber of suffering during the long autumn nights, when all in the house—quieting their consciences by remembrance of the doctor’s assurances that nothing more could be done for his patient—were fast asleep in bed. Mary had been ill nearly a year, and still, instead of improving, became weaker and weaker, until at last the cousins knew that, in all human probability, only a few, very few, weeks were allotted them to spend on earth together.

From the hour wheo this terrible knows ledge first dawned upon Katharine, sbe never left her cousin’sroom, The education which, when completed, would emancipate her from a residence with those whom she now diss liked more than ever, was utterly neglected, booke, work, exercise were all given up, so that the whole evergies of her mind and body might be devoted to Mary.

And she bad her reward; for now, from those beloved lips, and for the first time in her life, the young nurse heard the words and precepts of true religion. In Mary’s simple, earnest faith was none of that cant or slang of eect and party which, in her aunt and Jane, had so disgusted Katharine ; all was cheerful, trustful obedience, @ readiness to do and bear what God had appointed. From her Katharine heard none of those hateful party names, which, though not so common 4s at present, were still rife enough in the mouths of those whe trusted more to” vitaperation than submission, and caused bitter strife and malice; none of that selfs righteousness which is sach a stumbling~ block to the professor, and #o detestable to others; none of that affected humility which is the most contemptible sort of pride, All

I could get work.’

‘The factories! My dav ing Kate, do not talk eo; you will break my heart. You could not bear it, even if it were rizht to try.’

‘Is is harder than whatl bear here?’ asked Katharine, almost bitterly.

“ No. perhaps not, but this will not last forever. Remember God, Katie, and that nothing happens without his permission, and for our good, and be patient darling.’ ‘Patient! Ob, Mary, you are cruel! Do you think I have not been patient? I fre! as if I had been too patient. Bot what could | do? Witbout money and without friends, what could I do?’ she repeated vehemently. «My poor Kate!’

‘Ab Mary,’ coutinued Katharine, laying ber head like a young child upon her cousin’s knee, and looking up in her face, ‘if it had not been for you,! should have tun, away long ago.’

‘Oh, don’t say 89, Kate!’ answered Mary, earnestly. ‘Run away! Oh, Kate, pro- mise me that you will never think of such a thing again. Promise, Promis:!’

‘] cannot, for [am sure that some day or other I shall.’

‘Ob, Kate! dear, dear, darling Kate! do noteay so. I shail die if you do!’

‘Not while Lcan be of any use to you, Mary ; but when~-when you don’t want me.’ ‘Then God grant me life! Oh, Kate! you make me what | have never been before in all my pain, impatient and repining, pray- ing for life; but if my life is to keep you good, oh, I will pray to live, even if it be in pain and misery! What is pain to sin ?’

6 Sin?”

‘Yes, Kate, sin! Running away from law- ful authority is sin, be the provocation what itmay. You are wretched here—very, very wretched , but you came ip obedience to your mother’s wish, and until you can leave pro= perly, as she would approve, you must not go—you have no right to go.’ ,

‘ But Iam so miserable,’ pleaded Katha- rine, almost borne down by the unwonted energy of her cOusin’s voice and manner.

‘Yes; but are you sure that you will be happier elsewhere. Allowing that you might go, have you a happier home to go to?’

*No; but it could not be worse, and |

should not be taunted and ca'led such hate- ful names. Mary, you don’t know what it ie. I often feel as if I were going mad, and such horrible furious words rise in my mind, that I am frightened at myself. Do not de angry nor think ill of me, Mary,’ she cou- tinued passionately, the remembrance of past insults rushing to her thoughts; ‘for J must go. I will not stay here.’ Mamma would not allow, mach less wish it—so kind, and tender, and loving assbe was. A charity child. No, no, I won’tbe that while the facs tories ate open to give me work!’ } And to escape from the tannt of a false name, you will destroy yourself. Kare, I have seen the same thing done before, and I have scen its end.’ The solemn tone of Mary's voice, even more than her words, arrested Katharive’s reply, and she paused. After a few minutes’ silence, Mary resumed —‘ Will you listen to me, Kate? not passions ately or proud!y—not with a heart full of de- termination to please yourself—but with a patient spirit,’

‘Yes.’

‘Then sit here. You know that when | was a very little child my aunt Jollis—my father’s sister—adopted me, and took me with ber to Scotland, She was a widow,and bad no children ; but her bosbsnd hed been

that Mary taught was souod and true, and,

in an extensive way of business, and the

PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND, MONDAY, AUGUST 24, 1874.

Louee being much larger than she wanted, it wes divided; Mr. Jollis’s brother, with his wife and family, living in one part, and carrying on the trade, while my auat and | lived im the other.

1 never knew my uncle; but | have heard that he wasa stern hard man, and broke his firet wife's beart. If so, his brother resem- bied him perfectly. He was a tyrant to every living thing in his power. He had five | hil. dren—poor, broken-spirited, terrified creas tures—and a wife. Oh, Kate, if yon nad seen her, you would have known what ral misery is! She idolized and spoiled he: children, wept with them at their father’s cruelty, and helped them to deceive and avoid him in every possible way. dreadful! Her lot was hard, I know ; but she made i: worse for the children and her self by teaching them to be artful and anduti~ ful. futher is@ father, Kate; und Jet him be what he may, nothiog cun alter the com’ mandment to obey him. Well, the eldest of the family was a boy ; when I first remember bim, be was a handsome, noble fellow, and even Mr. Joliis was proud of kim, indulging him more than he was ever known to do any one; but as he grew older he prided himself upon bis power, and became headstionz and

This was

idle, while his father, furgetting that bis own indulgence had brought on the evi!, checkcd him suddeuly and harshly. Without any greater provocation than usua!, he was re- fused pocket-money, companiors, the out~ door sports he loved, every pleasure he had been accustomed to from his infancy, and treated more like a slave than a gon. Vora long time the boy bore jit—not patiently bat silently. He did his work, and got out of bis father’s way; but at last his proud spirit could endure no Jonver, and be came to opea rebsilion. His poor mistaken mother aps plauded this, encouraging his spirit, and all my dear annts warnings to her were of no avail:

‘Unhappily for usall, just at this time a new clerk was engaged in the warehouse, and Henry and he fast friends, There was sumeting very bad in the look of the man’s face to me; but he was a good servant, and therefore valued by his master: while Mrs. Jcl'is liked him for the friendship he professed to ber sun, as well as the many ways in which he contrived that Henry should evade the commands Jaid upon him.

* Although L was very young «nd ivexperi- enced, I d:eaded that M’ Evoy from the first, and did all I could to wara my cousin against

became

bim ; for I loved him dearly, almost as well asI do you, Kate; but it was usaless. He laughed at my fears, called them fancies and follies, and declared that the clerk was the best friend he had in the wor'd: aod in this he was supported by bis mother.

‘He certainly was treated very harshly; for not only was he expected to work harder than any paid lad in the warehouse, but he was debarred from every sort of recreation which they enjoyed The evenings and Sun- days they had he was denied; work, w ork, work, seemed to be the only end of his live. To this, as | said before, he would not sub~ mit quietly, and the angry strife and violent words between him and his father, craftily promoted, ag both soon were, by M’Evoy, became horrible.

‘ At last, there beyan to be rumors in the town that Henry was seen out at night— semetimes alone, sometimes with the clerk— and that the houses they fi quented were |

THE MOST ASTONISHING OIL WELL

TweniY-rive Hunprep Barrets a Day—Tup Laying Oct or a New City.

{From the Titusville Herald. }

On the 23rd of March, 1873, the famous Troutman well was struck on the western extremities of the Modoc belt. It com- menced spouting at the rate of 1,000 bar. rels per day and has since produced 100,000 of oil. To day this well yields to its own- ers forty barrels per day. Eighteen wells have been sunk on the Troutman farm, which in all have yielded about 300,000 bar- rels upto date. In fact the Troutman farm has proved to be one of the most prolific in Butler county. Test wells have been sunk east of it, north, south, and west of it, clearly defining what is known as the Moy doc belt. This belt crosses the main north.- east and southwest belt almost at right angles, and the circumscribed space where the two belts cross or overlap each other is called the Fourth Sand Territory. It was known that this Modoc belt extended east as faras Armstrong Run, but'the test wells put down there gushed out fora few days at the rate of 1,000 or 1,200 barrels, and then suddenly dwindled down to diminutive | proportion. This eastern projection ‘was therefore temporarily abandoned, and few (ifany) operators imagine that it would be worth drilling. (he Butler county oil ba- sin was just beginning to show signs of ex. haustion, and the area of all the prolitic ter. ritory in that vicinity was pretty well defin- ed, when a few speculators ventured to run a line of wells due east from Central Point, near Petrolia. It was simply a wild cat venture, and the owners of the wells had little expectation of making any large strike. The Parker well was one of these, and it is now a matter of little consequence whether it is producing one thousand, fifs teen hundred or twenty-five hundred bars rels per day, the result will be just the same, as it proves beyond adoubt; that we have just entered upon the eastern horn of the Modoc belt dilemma. In showing up truthfully the exact situation the case will not be altered, as the entire trade have al- ready discounted the well and its probable consequences upon the future condition of the market

The road leading to the Parker well from Petrolia is in moderately good condition, and soon after leaving Centrnl Point the traveller observes the words, “ No Smoking permitted here,’ in conspicuous places. After about half miles ride the top of a hill is reached, where a loud, * roaring noise is distinctly heard, and eighty rods further on brings us in sight of the well.

two and a

\ dense fog or mist envelopes the derrick, engine house and tanks, while ful- ly one thousand persons are there gazing on the wonder of The derrick has conspicuously placed upon it in

(rmstrong county

large letters, ‘‘ Bosswell,’’ and “Creswell City.”’ There are two 250 barrel tanks full of oil ; also two 1,200 barrel tanks, one of | which is full. Three dams, one below the

other, catch the drippings, and a rivulet be-

yond, we are told, for ten miles of a circuits | ous route to the Alleghany river, is covered | with oil,

There are two two-iuch pipes connected with the well,

one of which is | shut completely off, and out of the other | flows a steady stream of oil with immense force. There is no perceptible intermission in the flow, and as it gushes into one of the 1,200 barrel tanks, the foam and spray en. |

not proper ones for either to visit. The re- port made my aunt very unhappy, and she asked Henry about it; noto! course expect- |

ing that he would confess his indiscretion to her, but simply that if the tale was true, she

might entreat him never to be so led astray again. ed . leaving us more jniserable than belore: for | we felt that if cbtained a} great and evil influence over him, be would

But, although be colored and louk~

confused, he laughed off the subject, |

others had not

not bave treated my aunt’s affectionate warns | ing ashe did. ‘Soon after this a sad and entire change wae visible. Lhe poor boy's work was ne glected, he looked pale and ill, and, instead | of openly defying and disobeying his father,

Once or twice I | j

became sullen and morose, spoke to Lim, for he made me very wretched, and be a: swered in words that it was almost

wicked to hear, they were so full of anger and undatifulness; and over and over again | he told me that he would bear the treatment he met with vo longer, but would run away. | * Well, bad as this was, worse soon came, Money was missed from the tills and the | cashier's desk ; and although no one sus- | pected their master’s son, my poor aunt | and I'did. We knew he had been seen in | places where money must have been spent, | and only the evening before the first pecu- lation was talked of, | had seen the glitter | ofa chain round his neck. All was too plain now, and my aunt was in the deepest |

distress, not knowing what to do, and | whether her silence was not cruel mercy to | Henry, as it left him exposed to the evil | influences of the clerk,when Mr. JoMis came into the room in @ great passion, and told | us that M’Evoy had taken offence at some- | thing which had been said in the counting. | house, and was going to leave that day.

‘I shall never forget our delight at this | intelligence; and even the threat that my |

hand could be found to replace the clerk,

we could think of nothing but joy that that bad man was going, and that Henry would be free from his example and persuasions. But our happiness was soon over. The very day after M’Evoy left, Henry refused to assist in the removal of some packages | which he had carelessly suffered to be left | about ; and, ina transport of rage, his father | ordered him to his room, and forbade his | leaving without permission. In vain my | aunt entreated and remonstrated with both | parties, imploring Mr. Jollis to revoke his punishment and Henry to obey, neither | would listen, and poor Mrs, Jollis, instead | of trying to show her son thesin he was committing, only cried out against her hus~ band’s cruelty, and encouraged Henry. ‘Three days after this, when the porter came in the morning to open the ware- house, he found that the counting-house had been broken into, the lock of the iron safe picked, and the cash-box stolen. As

ry; but, alas! he was gone!’

‘Gone, Mary! Good heavens! surely he had not done it ?’

‘No Kate. I will never believe that he had, although others did; and indeed the evi- dence was very strong against him, especi~ ally as he had been so often heard to threat- en that he would run away But still I never believed it, and never will.’

‘And what became of him? Oh, Mary,

to be real. frighten me?’

‘No. It’s all true—too true.’

‘ And did you ever see him again?

‘I did.’

‘Where? Oh, Mary, how could you en dure all this if you loved him?’

: Because I loved him as well as my own brother, and would have saved him at the price of my life, as indeed I did.’

To be continued,

| Snow farm, one on the Steel farm, the Gush

cousin should work extra hours, until a new |