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"POETRY.

“ GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY.”

She stood at the bar of justice, A creature wan and wild, In form too small for a woman, In features too old for a child For a look so worn and pathetic Was stamped on her pale young face It seemed long years of suffering, Must have left that silent trace. “ Your name,” said the judge, as he eyed eT, With a kindly look, yet keen, ‘Is “ Mary McGuire, if you please, sir,’ “And your age?’ ‘I'm turned fifteen “Well, Mary,” and then from a paper He gravely and slowly read, ‘ You're charged here, I'm sorry to say it, With stealing three loaves of bread.”

You look not like an offender, And I hope that you can show

The charge to be false. Now tel! me, Are you guilty of this or no?”

A passionate burst of weeping Was at first the sole reply,

But she dried her tears in a moment And looked in the judge’s eye.

I will tell you how it was sir:

My father and mother are dead, And my little brothers and sisters Were hungry and asked me for

At first I earned it for them By working hard all day,

But somehow times were hard, sir And the work all fell away.

bread

I could get no more employment ; The weather was bitter cold, The iittle ones cried and shivered—- (Little Johnny’s but four years old)— So what was! to do, sir? I am guilty, but do not condemn, ! took—oh was it stealing ?— The bread to give to them.”

Every man in the court-room—

Grey beard and thoughtless youth— Kaew as he looked upon her,

That the prisoner spoke the truth Out from their pockets came 'kerchiefs,

Uat from their eyes sprung tears And from old faded wallets

Treasures hoarded for years.

The judge's face was a study— The strangest you ever saw, And he cleared his throat and murmured Something about the law; For one so learnedin such matters So wise in dealing with men, He seemed on a simple question, Sorely puzzled just then.

But no one blamed or wondered, When at last these words they heard: « The sentence for this young prisoner Is for the present deferred ?"’ And no one blamed him or wondered, When he went to her and smiled, And tenderly led from the court-room Mary, the ‘ guilty’ child.

~sTERATURE,

—— —— LOVE AND LIGHTNING.

Ir was seven o'clock of a balmy June even- ing. The sun was slowly dropping behind the hills that bounded little Haverhill on the West, when an express train thundered through the village and stopped for a few minutes at the station that stood at the ter- minus of a long, lonesome street.

One passenger alighted—a young man of thirty or thereabouts, a tall young man, with

round, pleasant face, fair hair and whiskers, and a pair of the softest, tenderest blue eyes that ever bewitched a woman; for these @ame innocent eyes had played sad havoc with many a woman's heart. He carried a travelling rug over his arm, a small valise in his hand, was stylish, well-dressed, and tak- ing him allin all, quite a gentlemanly person.

The locomotive, puffed, groaned, and whistled sharply, and the train passed on, leaving the tall young man staring Jreamily down the long, lonesome street.

« Well, Justus Mereton, you area fool out and out,” sighed that young gentleman, as his eve met a few straggling cottages, with dingy yards, and troops of dirty children, necksdeep in mud-banks and sand-heaps; «and if you wasn't such a fool, I'd ask you, whatever broughi you to such a Godsfor- saken hole as this ?”’

He wheeled suddenly and hailed a man who was lounging at the door of the station.

‘Hallo mister, can you direct me to the home of Barnard Phelps?’

‘ Bernard Phelps’ echoed the man, running his grimy fingers through his grizzly hair; ‘guess! ken. Every man, woman, and child in Haverhill knows him—the poorest, mean- est, crooketest old skinflint that ever wore a coat. Just keep straight ahead, down that street, for a half a mileor so, then turn to the right; you'll fad it ina jiffy afer that—an eld barn of a mansion, with chimneys as big as a little house.’

Justus Moreton nodded 4 half-smiling ‘Thank you,’ and started down the village street ata swinging pace.

Groups of children scattered helter-shelter at his approach ; dogs of all sizes, castes and qualities rushed out to have a yelp at him; red-faced, frowsy-headed women, with babies in their arms, peeped out of a dozen door- ways; but Justus Moreton kept steadily on his way, headless of the din and dirt around him.

‘The poorest, meanest, crookedest, old skin#int,’ he kept repeating to himself. ‘I can do a great deal to please father, but I don’t think I can go that.’

He walked his half a mile of dingy, dusty street, then turned into a wide green lane that turned to the right—a lane lined with huge locusts, whuse branches were heavy and sweet with odorous snow-white blos- soms. Fields of wheat lay on his right, meadows, cocl and fragrant, stretched away to the left, and turning an abrupt angle in the lane, Justus came suddenly on the home of Barnard Phelps.

Justus paused under the scented boughs of locust, an odd sensation about his heart. The large red brick mansion had mammoth chimmneys, but they were so artistically draped by a huge bignonia creeper that they rather added to the beauty of the plaee. The house was surrounded by a smooth, green lawn, dotted by clumps of shrubbery and beds of flowers. Orchards, sunny green knolls, glimpses of wvodland, filled up the back-ground, and the whole place wore such a cosy, comfortable air, that Justus felt the ‘meanness’ must be imaginary on the part of Barnard’s neighbors. He hesitated long before he opened the white gate before him, for, in spite of his easy, society air, Justus Moreton, for the first time in his life, felt ill

at ease.

He ventured to open the gate at last, and slowly walked up the smooth path that led to the house. When midway between the gate and the doorway he became aware that the shady porch had an occupant. Justus went on diffidently. A tall, spare figure, clad ina threadbare suit of tweed, rose up to greet him. Justus Jooked into the wrinkled face curiously, and saw thin, firmly set lips, a pair of sharp, greedy eyes, anda low brow shaded by iron grey hair.

‘Who are you—a travelling artist?’ de- manded the old gentleman.

‘No,’ meekly replied Justus, ‘I am Justus Moreton—William Moreton’s only son.’

Barnard Phelps—for it was he,straig htened out a spare figure, smoothed a fractious lock of hair with one hand, and extended the other to Justus.

*Ah!' he exclaimed, ‘might have known you by your father. You have the real Moreton eyes. Take a seat—take a seat.’

Justus took the seat indicated, and Bar- nari dropped into a chair opposite him, starg ing dreamily at the young man’s pleasant face.

* It’s ages since | saw your father,’ went on Barnard, drawing his tweed sleeve across his eyes. ‘But you look exrctly as he did the day we parted on the dock at New York. He has told you of our old compact, I suppose.

Justus nodded absently, for a pair of bright eyes had peeped througn the curtains of a

|

| window at his side, and chained his own to |

the spot—eyes that living or dying he would ‘Well, you have come to fulfill I was under deep

never forget. your part of it, doubtless. obligations to your father, boy, and it was an

easy matter to promise my baby girl to his!

son.

But you young people may think differ-

onily.’

Justus replied eagerly, ‘that doubtless it |

would be an easy matter to love Ais daughter.’

Barnard Phelps raised his eyebrows, and scanned the honest face of his friend’s son» curiously.

‘You were along time coming to that con- clusion. You should have sought her hand five years ago,’curtly replied Barnard, scowl- ing at Justus.

Justus winced but said nothing. knew in his most inmost heart that he never thought of in search of aw it as a necessity.

* Miss Phelps sand dollars in hard cash on her wedding The panic has ruined us and

will have

day, Justus. we musi get money somehow,’ said the senior Moreton in reference to the matter. And

Justus who had lived his twenty-five years |

without being very deeply in love with anybody, packed his valise. and came to Haverhill to spend the summer and sacris fice himseif to Miss Phelps.’

‘But you must be tired and hungry,’ added Barnard, coming to himself, and smilingly leading the way to the house, and up a breezy stairway into a pleasant guest- chamber, fragrant with roses and honeys suckles, that thrust their odorous spray through every open window. ‘Brush up, and come down, and I will introduce you to the girls.

Barnard vanished and Justus fell to brush- ing with a will. He wondered if there were two or a dozen to choose from, or if the com- pact bound him to some particular one.

‘I'll take the one with the bright eyes, if she'll have me, let her be in the bargain or | not,’ he said to himself as he gave his whiskers an extra brush and started down stairs. His host met him in the hall and ushered him into a large old foshioned room, as odorous as the one ke had just left. Two ladies rose up to meet him.

‘ This is my daughter Agnes, Mr. Moreton,’ said Mr. Phelps, leading Justus up tu the taller of the two. Aggie, this is Justus Moreton,’

Aggie, a tall slender girl, with keen, grey | eyes, sharp features and a callow face,bowed, and said a few welcoming words which Jus-

For he|

straying downto dirty Haverhill | fe, had not his father urged |

a hundred thous |

child, has courted you assiduously for six | weeks, while I have been buried in pie- | making, cakesbaking, and berry-picking to | feed our dainty turtle-doves’’

She jumped up and started for the house.

| [ don’t love

| ‘Celia, Celia, listen to me. Agnes; and I'll go home to-morrow if you

| don't say yes,’ he called after her.

‘No! no! no!’ she cried kissing the tips

| of her fingers to him as she disappeared in

the doorway.

‘ Justus,’ called a voice,as Justus threw | himself on the grass. He turned and saw | Aggie Phelps, standing on the vinesshaded porch, clad in some light summer material,

with a scarlet shawl about her shoulders. She looked well-bred. lady-like and stylish, and as Justus went slowly up the walk, he

said to himself, ‘1 may as well ask her and

have itover, she expects it, the governor ex- pected it, and old Phelps is eager for it. | The other won't have me and I may as well |

do it, and have it off my mind.’

Aggie looked pale and languid after her headache, but Justus soon brought the first flush he had ever seen in her sallow cheeks, by asking her a question which she had been longing and expeeting to hear, ever since his advent in Haverhill.

Miss Phelps, blind with woman's fond, foolish blindness, never gave a thought to the lover-like manner of the proposal—never, for one moment. imagined that the man who stood by her side, and looked down on her face with his honest blue eyes, was thinking of another, and a fairer face, and what a dreary farce his life would be in the future, as he placed a diamond solitarie on her slen- der finger.

The sun, which for an hour back had glowed like a ball of fire above the far off Western hills, was suddeniy obscured by dense, black clouds, and vivid flashes of lightning shot through the sky, the wind bent the towering locusts, peals of thunder rent the air, but Justus heard nothing buta clear, sweet voice rippling through the breezy hall, as Celia sat on the back porch picking her strawberries and singing at her work.

‘Justus!’ screamed Miss Phelps, flying to her lover for protection, as a blinding flash swept past them. ‘ This is terrible!’ She clung to his arm nervous and excited, An- other came, a sharp peal of thunder rent the air, a scream from the back porch ! aud Mr. Phelps’ cries of Justus — Aggie—come here, quick!" brought Justus to a sense of his danger.

He broke away from his affianced bride, and the next moment stood beside the pros-

tus did not hear, for his eyes were fixed on the dark, piquant face of the owner of the bright eyes whom Mr. Phelps introduced as his niece,

After some desultory observations, Miss | Phelps said :

‘ You have changed for the better since I | saw you last,’

Mr. Moreton blushed modestly, and look- | ed puzzled, He never remembered seeing | the tall, sallow girl before, although she had been set apart for his wife from infancy, and he said so.

‘Oh, I know you never saw me,’ laughed Miss Phelps, lightly. ‘You never thought | my acquaintance worth cultivating, but I | was in the cily some years ago and you were pointed out to me F

‘Her future husband, mischievously put in the merry voice of Celia Brooks.

Miss Phelps glanced at her carelessly, a half smile on her thin lips, and Justus, feels ing very hotand angry. looked at his future father-in-law — lank, spare, and surly— buried in the cushions of an old arm-chair, and then down at Celia who sat en a low stool, her light dress floating about her like a mist, her white shoulders, dimpled like a baby's, the snowy throat and round rosy face, with curly kinks of dark hair curling about it, and mentally anathematized the by- gone friendship whose forethought had linked his fate with the tall, sallow girl who

j |

Celia Brooks, or dead. Mr. Phelps stood in the old-fashion-

trate form of Celia Brooks. A huge locust, a few rods from the house, bad been shatter~ ed to the roots, and Celia lay, either stunned

ed kitchen, halplessly wringing his hands.

‘ Celia,’ cried Justus, picking up the curly head, and holding the still white face to his cheek—‘ Celia, my darling, my little love, come back to me.’

And forgetting that Barnard Phelps looks ed on and wondered, and that but a moment before he had pledged himself to another, Justus kissed the mute lips: until the life fluttered back into the still pulses, and the dear eyes opened slowly.

‘Living! Thank God!’ was his fervent ejaculation, as he lifted Celia in his arms 10 carry her into the house. In the doorway he met Agnes Phelps, white and wrathful. She held her engagement ring in one hand, and laid the other on Justus Moreton’s arm.

* You love her—not me?" she asked.

‘ Yes,’ flashed back Justus, ‘ and will! iove her while life lasts.’

‘You dastard!’ fumed Miss Phelps. ‘How dare you insult me so.’

She flung his ring in his face, and dashed from him. She was proud and selfish, and as wrathful as a tigress when aroused, and Celia nestled closer to him and whispered—

‘She will turn me out of a home for this.’

‘Justus laid his burden down upon the

sat before him, clothed in silks and jewels, |

eager, expectant, confident.

‘If shethinks I am going to fall down on my knees and ratify the contract of our foolish old fathers, she’s mistaken, for I'll try my luck with the little beauty first, for- tune orno fortune,’ was his mental resolus

tion as he went up the breezy stairway to |

his room, after bidding the ladies good night.

But Miss Phelps was determined he should never have a chance to try his luck with her penniless cousia.

For, with a woman's keenness, she had noticed the silent homage in every look he had given Celia, had detected a tenderness in his voice when addressing her, that never inflected it when speaking to another, and during the following days she so adroitly monopolized all his time that Justus grew to dread her, and always felt as if under the baneful influences of a serpent when in the presence of her eyes. Celia he saw but little of, From morning until night she was busy wite her household work, her sewing and her flowers, and Justus soon learned that the artistic beauty of the grounds was wrought by Celia’s little brown hands. Agnes, indolent, lazy and selfish, left the burden of the work on the orphan that was dependent on her crusty father for a home.

One sultry July evening fortune favored Justus. Agnes was laid up witha headache

—her jealous heart racked with fears that |

Celia might improve this opportunity, and with Justus from her—and Justus had stretched himself upon the grass under a locust, sweltering with the heat and intense- ly bored. For he despised old Phelps, he had a most ungallant dislike for Agnes, and the only creature about the house he cared a fig fer kept out of his way.

‘ Hang it ail!’ he muttered, ‘ I wish I had stayed away forever. The first thing you know she'll be asking me to marry her.’

A light step on the grass startled hisn, and he glanced up suddenly, to see Celia Brooks tripping across the Jawn, her sun bonnet in one hand anda basket of ripe strawberries in the other. He was at her side in an in- staut. She faced him laughingly, her bright eyes full of mirthful light, as she tossed a shower of kinks and curls about her rosy

face. ' ‘You want toe speak to me ?" she inquired,

in answer to his call.

‘Tetalk to you an hour or so, if you will.’

She shrugged her shoulders prettily, and looked down at her faded dress and red- tipped fingers.

‘Where's Agnes? tains you, don’t she?’

‘ Agnes be hang—’

‘ Take care, sir.’ Celia laughed outright at his look of disgust. ‘That’s not a pretty way to speak of your future wife.’

‘ She'll never be that.’

Justus looked down at Celia, who had dropped wearily on the grass, with a light in his blue eyes that made her brown eyes drop shyly. And then, taking the red tips of the berry-stained fingers in his, Justus went over the old, old story—new, although it were to be told a hundred million times a minute—only to see the silken lashes lift steadily—only to hear the clear, bell like voice say cooly :

‘ A very pretly story, Mr. Moreton, but you should have told it to cousin Ag.’

‘She'll never hear it from me, Celia. I love you, and you only.’

‘ 1 don’t believe it,’ said Miss Celia, filling her mouth with luscious berries, and iooking up at him lazily.

* You don’t? Why?

‘ Because you don't know me well enough to know whether you love me or not.’

‘I know you as thoroughly as Agnes does.’

‘There!’ she held up one chubby finger mockingly. Don’t say that; Aggie poor

She generally enter-

sofa, inthe parlor. The rain came down in torrents, white sheets of lightning li: up the | black darkness without. But words were | said that made the world as bright as day for | Celia Brooks, whu lay in her lover’s arms and cried. | Moreton, Sr.; tided through the panic, and Agnes Phelps is wrathful and unmarried | still.

}

Howe anp Happiness.—There can be no doubt that the truest happiness is ever to be found at home. No man without a home can be long and truly happy. But the dox mestic group can be productive of happiness only when it is assimiliated by affection, and kept in union by discreet friendship. Then jt tends to produce as much happiness as this world is capable of; and its sweet re- pose is sought by all sensible men, as ever by the wisest and the greatest. What can be compared in our intercourse of life with the altentions on our family, with their ex- hilarating smiles and undissembled love ? All this raises the gentlest and most pleasing emotions, and calls forth all the sentiments of uncontrolled nature. What are the rap- tures of ambition, the pleasures of fame, the delights of honor, in comparison with this? Utterly worthless and insipld. Hence it is that we see senators and heroes shutting out the acclamations of an applauding world to partake of the endearments of tamily con- versation, and to enjoy the prattling of their little children in their harmless pleasures. This is one of the purest sources of mirth. It has influence, too, in amending the heart, for. nnocence is communicated by coming in contact with it; and the sweet simplicity of children tends to purify the heart from the pollution that it has acquired from moving in the world and mixing with men. Into what an abyss of moral degradation should we not be sunken were it not for women and children. Well might the Great Author of evangelical philosophy have been delighted with the presence of children, and found in them—what he in vain sought among those who judged themselves their superiors— goodness and virtue. Cicero, with all his liberality of mind, felt the tenderness of home attachment. At one time he acknows ledged that he received no satisfaction in any company hut that of his wife, his little daughter, and—to use his own language— “his honied young Cicero.” Sir Thomas Moore, with his great powers of mind, de- voted a great share of his time—because he knew it to be his duty and felt it to be his delight—to the amusement of his children. Homer, in his Iliad, in the parting interview between Hector and Andromache, has in- terested the heart of the reader in his terri- ble hero by showing the amiability of his Trojan chief, by depicting him, while stand- ing completely armed for the battle field, taking off his helmet that he might not frighten his little boy with his nodding plumes. How refreshed are we by this scene of domestic love! And how pleased to see the arm which is shortly to deal death and destruction among a host of foes employed in carressing an infant son with the em- braces of paternal love.

This is to certify that Isaac Thomas, of Middleton, in the County of Annapolis, maketh oath and saith, that in the summer 1868 he was much reduced by diarrhwa, and had tried different remedies, and found no benetit or relief; and knowing Dr. C. Gates’ medicines, resolved to apply to him for aid; and with considerable difficulty, reached the doctor’s residence, obtained and took some of his celebrated Certain Check, and ex- perienced immediate relief, and was at once restored to his usual good health.

Tsaac THOMAS,

Sworn to at Middleton, this 6th day of January, 1870, before

James WHEELOCK, J. P.

This may certify, that John Kinniff, of Wilmot, in the County of Annapolis, maketh cath and saith, that} in autumn 1869, he was very much afflicted with sore and inflamed eyes, supposed he took cold in them, and they were extremely painful, and it was with difficulty he could see at all by times; but falling in with Dr. Caleb Gates, of Wilmot, he recommended the use of his Eye Water, which he did obtain and use; and it acted likea charm upon his eyes; only used it two nights when a perfect cure was effected ; and he is desirous that all persons similarly, affected may know of the healing properties =—" in Dr. Gates’ Celebrated Eye

ater.

Joun Kinnirr, Sworn at Middleton, this l6th day of December, 1869, before me JaMES WHEELOCK. Nov, 2.—im

iv iy RANDOM READINGS. sad debts—owing grudges. ‘Karly to bed and early to rise,’

be the same if you don’t advertize.

Bored, yet happy—A girl with her first pair of earrings,

There is no faultin poverty, but the minds that think so are faulty.

What is the use of talking of this world’s brightness and sunshine to a man who has tight boots?

No man can read about all these burglars without a determination to have his wife sleep on the front side of the bed,

A tourist who was asked in what part of Switzerland he felt the heat most, replied, ‘ When I was going to Berne.’

If you wake upin the night in an Italian hotel and shoot a burglar, the chances are that. you can’t see the landlord next morning, and that his wife’s a widow.

A model husband in Delaware thrashed his wife fearfully because their baby didn’t take the prize at a baby show, and wound up by offering to swap the baby for a pig.

The knowledge of divine things flows through prayer, reading, meditation and ob- servation.

Many ways of happiness have been diss covered, but all agree there is none so plea- sant as loving and being loved.

Cultivate your heart aright as well as your farm; and remember ‘‘ whatsoever @ man soweth that also shall he reap,”’

We appreciate no pleasures unless we are occasionally debarred from them. Restraint is the golien rule of enjoyment.

‘There was an old family fuel between them,’ was whai a witness in a wnurder case said to the jury.

The judge asked her if she didn’t mean ‘feud ?’ and she asked him who was telling the story.

The Life of the Rev. R. H. Barham, the author of‘ The Ingoldsby Legends,’ swarms with anecdotes of his acquaintances, who were among the most notable man of his time. Here is one in which Dr. Thomas Hume figures. He walked with Burham one day to the oflice of a morning paper, where he silently placed upon the counter an an- nouncement of the death of some friend, to~ gether with five shillings, the usual charge for the insertion of such announcements. The clerk glanced at the paper, tossed it on one side, and said gruffly, ‘ Seven and six.’ ‘I have frequently,’ repled [lume, ‘ had occasion to publish these simple notices, and I have never before been charged more than five shillings.’ ‘Simple! repeated the clerk, without looking up, ‘4le’s universally be- loved and deeply regretted |! Seven and six.’ Hume produced the additional half crown, and laid it deliberately by the others, observ- ing, as he did did so, with the solemnity of tone that he used throughout, ‘ Congratulate yourself, sir, that this is an expense your exe- cutors will never be put to.’

Barham, who was full of mischief when a boy, had a companion named Diggle, who was, if anything, more mischievous than himself. He was fond of practical jokes, in one of which Barham was a sharer. The two boys having, in the course of their walk, discovered a Quaker meeting-house, forths with procured a penny tart of a neighboring pastryscook. Furnished with this, Diggle marched boldly into the building, and ho!d- {ng up the delicacy in the midst of the grave assembly, said, with perfect solemnity, ‘Who- ever speaks first shall have this pie.’ ‘ Friend, go thy way, commenced a drabscolored gentleman, rising; ‘go thy way and : ‘The pie’s yours, sir,’ said Master Diggle politely,'and placing it before the astonished speaker, hastily effected his escape.

will all

—_—_—_———————— A REPRESENTATIVE AND CHAM. PION OF AMERICAN ART TASTE!

Prospectus for 1875, Eighth Year.

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wonderfully

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For 1874.

In compliance with the provisions of the several Acts of this Istand for levying an Assessment on all lands therein, T have ap- pointed the following persons to jbe Re- ceivers of the said Assessment :—

PRINCE COUNTY.

Tuomas Hockin, Township No. 1,'and the eastern parts of Townships Nos 2and 3. Ronent GorvoN, the Eastern Shore Settle-

ments of Townships 4 and 5, Township

No 6 and Savage Island.

Ricuarp Costar, the western Shore Set- tlements of To vnships Nos, 2, 3,4 and 5.

Joun Currie, Townships Ns. 7, 8, and 9.

Grora P. Parmer, Townships Nos. 10, 11 and 12.

HuauH Ramsay, Townships Nos. 13, 14, Lennox Islands and Sandhills adjacent. Syivanus E. GALLANT, Townships No. 15,

and the western moiety of No. 16.

Joun Grapy, Jr., the Eastern moiety of Township No. 16, Township No. 17, Sum- merside and Indian Island.

Venatius 8. Gitiis, Princetown, Prince- town Royalty, Townships Nos. 18 and 19, Grover, Bunbury, Fish and George’s Is- lands.

Mayor Wricut, Townships Nos. 25, 26 and o7 wie

Joun Lance, Townships Nos 28 and 39.

QUEEN’S COUNTY.

Duncan McIntyre, Townships Nos. 20 and 21.

Joun Binns, Townships Nos. 23, 23, 24,and Peter's Island.

Joun P. Tanron, Charlottetown, Charlotte- town Common, Charlottetown Royalty, Townships Nos. 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, the northern moities of Townships Nos. 36, and 37, Township No. 65, Governor's, St. Peter's, York, Pownal, Goose and Bed- ford Islands.

James E. Kettey, Township No. 48 and the seuthern moities of Townships Nos. 35, 36 and 37.

Joun J. McKenziz, Townships Nos. 49 and and 50.

Donagp STEwART, Townships Nos. 57, 58 and Prim Islands.

WILL1isM Ross, Townships Nos. 60, 62 and Wood Islands.

DonaLD NICHOLSON, ;Allan’s Son] ‘Town- ship No. 67.

Wm. McLeop, Township No. 48. KING’S COUNTY. WILLIAM Srnnor, Townships Nos. 88 and 39. Anaus McAvtay, Township Nos. 40 and 41.

RonaLp McDovuGatp, Townships Nos. 42 and 43.

RonaLtp McDonaLp, Townships Nos. 44 and 45.

DonaLp StewARrtT, Townships Nos. 46 and 47.

AnGus McPualt, Georgetown, Georgetown Royalty and Reserved Lands adjoining Townships Nos. 52, 53,54 and that part of Township No 55, South of Grand River, Panmure and Boughton Islands.

Putte Beers, Townships Nos. 51, 59, 61, and 66.

WittiamM Norron, Township No. 56, and that part of Township No. 55 north of Grand River.

GEORGE Wurtre, Townships Nos. 638, 64, and Murray Islands.

To prevent mistakes, all persons, whea paying Assessment, are requested to pro- duce a return, according to law, of the quantity of land, the number of the Town-

' ship, and the name of the owner or occupier.

JOSEPH POPE, Treasurer. Treasurer’s Office, Sept. 26, 1874.till dee¢

SALE OF

FREEHOLD PROPERTY.

We WILL SELL BY AUCTION, AT THE COLONIAL BUILDING CHARLOTTETOWN,

ON

THURSDAY.

THE 15th OCTOBER NEXT,

at the hour of Twelve o’clock, noom, a very desirable Farm of Land, lately occupied by Charles Alleyne, Esq., of Hillsboro’ Cas- tle, situate near the flourishing village of Mount Stewart. bounded and described as follows: Commencing at the south-west angle of a tract of 50 acres of land, the pro- perty of the heirs of the late George Doug- las; thence running, according to the mag- netic meridian of the year 1764, south seventy-seven (77) degrees, east seventy- six (76) chains, thence south twelve chains and fifty links [12.50] thence north seventy- seven [77] degrees, west seventy-six [76] chains, and thence north twelve chains and fifty links [12.50] so the place of commence- ment,—

NINETY-THREE (98) ACRES OF LAND,

a little more or less, and is situate in Town- ship number 38, in King’s County. For further particulars apply te E. J. Hopason, Esquire, Charlottetown, or to J. S. CARVELL,

W. H. AITKEN, Ch’town, Sept. 21, 1874.—till sale

The above sale is postponed until Monday, the 15th day of February, 1878.

Houses for Sale.

} ae Subscriber offers for Sale a twostory house, with eleven rooms, fitted fora Boarding House, with stabling (the Rothsay House), on Kent Street, near Queen Street. Also, a Ware House and Land, 33 « 98 feet, - Fitzroy street For terms &c., apply °

Mrs. TERLIZZICK. Ch’town, Oct. 12, 1874.—p 2m

HEALTH STRENGTH & VIGOR.

Just Published, Price One Shilling Stg.

J\HE SCIENCE OF LIFE; or SELF-PRE SERVATION. A practical Guide to Health, Strength, and Vigorous Old Age. Address to the Nervous, the Sedentary, the Dyspeptic.and all those whose constitutions have become debilitated or relaxed from ir- regularities of life, climate, age or disease, or from over-taxed or abused energies, whether of body or mind; with the Instruc- tions for the Treatment of all Disorders re- sulting from the Loss of Nervous or Physical Force. By S. LA'MERT,M.D.,L.S. A. &c.,37 BEDFORD SQUARE, London.

“An excellent manual for all who may learn how to use life and not abuse it.— Church and State Gazette.

. an = a of diet and the regula- ion of the functions the advice tl is admirable.”— Mirror. —on

Dr. La’MERT is the only regularly-qualified Practicioner, who, for thirty years, has de- voted his entire attention to the cure of these disorders.

Patients residing imthe Colonies ean be successsfully treated by correspondence and remedies will be forwarded in secreoy and safety to any address.

THE SCIENCE OF LIFE may be had price one shilling stg., in Halifax, Nova Scotia, J. H. Woodrich, Dru Store; Yar- mouth, H. A. Parr; Pictou, enry Ellott; St. John, N. B., H. Chubb & Co., and in CHARLOTTETOWN, P. E. I., of Messrs. Brem- ner Brothers, 44 Queen Street.

’

IMPorTANT CavuTion.—The public are earnestly warned against a piracy of the above work emanating from a so-called ee inatitate.” Boston, which unblush-

Y appropriates the titles of two w published by Dr. La’Mert for thirty a? March 30th 1874. ly.

LRA ROSH!

NOW LANDING,

100 bbls. Tea Rose Flour,

ON CONSIGNMENT.

FENTON T. NEWB . July &, 1874.—tf sete