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A WEEKLY JOURNAL OF POLITICS, LITERATURE AND NEWS.

EDWARD WHELAN]

——

Vou. VI.

MOON'S PHASES. — AUGUST, 1856.

First Quarter Sth day, 7h. 43m. evening. S.W. Full Moon 16th day, th. 15m. morning. S. Last Quarter 22d day, 4b. 28m. evening. E. New Moon 30h day, 6h. 34m. morning. E.

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Literature.

ins FT es eb wees ie ihe Bane of ote o’clock, | round, which assumed every day a more cultivated and civil-

and returned from London at half-past five ; that the dinner |

THE ORIGIN OF THE DEW-DROPS. BY MARY E. BATCHELOR.

Thete’s a whispering of leaves, mid the sweet summer trees, And a caine the fruit and the flower,

There's a gush and a flash like the rippling of seas,

While the blossoms are laying their lips to the breeze, As he daintily floats from his bower.

And the cold-fingered twilight, so beauteous and still, Drooping her vei) from the dim world of sleep,

Softly deepens the shadows o’er woodland and hill,

Richly draping the willows that dream by the rill, With a softness so tender and deep.

On a cushion of moss, all golden and brown, Sleeps a maiden in gentle repose,

While one snowy arm is so carelessly thrown

Beneath the rich curls that droop lovingly down To her check sweetly tinged with the rose.

All around her are strown the sweet blossoms of May, Fondly kissed into life by the spring, .

Lovely roses and lilies in beauteous array,

With their starry buds gleaming like jewels astray, Or the glow of the humming-bird’s wing.

K’en the starlight seems faint with the wealth of perfume Floating up from the rese-clustered yine,

And no sound can be heard through the sweet shady gloom,

Save the startling of the buds as they leap into bloom, Vermeil cups filled with clear dewy wine.

Yet hark, there's a whisper, a low, dreaming sound, Like the singing of winds through the dells,

’Tis heard in the blossoms that lie on the ground,

While bright little beings leap forth with a bound, From the depths of their delicate bells.

From the flushed glowing leaves of the beautiful rose There arises a lady divine,

There are pearls in ber hair that so goldenly flows

0’er her shoulders now gleaming like driftings of snows, Or sunbeams o’er woodlands that shine.

From the rain-scented jasinine, and violet s> sweet, And from pansies, white, purple and gold,

Trip gay little nymphs with their delicate feet,

More blue-veined, more white and more daintily sweet, Than the Venus so famous of old.

From the rich crimson folds of a tulip so bold 4 Flapate a queen with her proud scornful eyes, W bile the cows ips and daisies their yases unfold, And knights aud gay pages in emerald and gold From their amber-rimmed circlets arise.

From the lily-eups drooping on tremulous stems Maidens float with soft eyelids like sleep,

Snowy mists are their robes all-bespangled with gems,

While their brows are encircled with rich diadems, Far more lovely than pearls of the deep.

The wee little spirits float, murmur and swing, Round the maiden in circles so gay,

They kias her red lips, in her ringlets they cling,

While glancing and gleaming they tearfully sing O’er the sleeper their musical lay.

** Oh maiden, fair maiden, thou’st cruelly torn

And broken our life-giving tie, And now when the warm glowing breath of the morn Shall but float to our lips as we lie so forlorn,

We shall weaken, fade, wither and die.

«* And how happy were we, in our innocent glee, Lightly chiming our fairy-like bells, While our sweet sunny blooms opened joyous and free To the kiss of the sun or the song of the Lee, As he rifled our beautiful cells.

‘** Now we fade from the earth, like some exquisite dream, "Mid the odors and beauties of May,

No more the sweet zephyr, on bright sunny beam,

Shall deepen our leaves with their rose-colored gleam, For we pass like the lovely away.”’

Thus the flower-spirits sang, but you could not tell where, Nor if you were waking or dreaming, So sweet was the murmur, it seemed like a prayer Softly rippling the folds of the silvery air, here fragrance and star-beams were streaming.

And the song floated on till that gold-missed hour When the dawn o’er the far hills was creeping.

And the maiden awoke from her sleep in the bower,

To behold every tree, every leaf, every flower, Every bud, every blossom, were weeping.

— Louisville Journal.

hati ity

DAISY HOPE.

(Concluded from last Examiner.)

But the prophesy of old Andrew soon came true, and friends were raised up for the orphan in very unexpected quarters, The-poor are always kind to each other, and the villagers came in with sympathy and help. The good old minister was taken down among the first, and Bessy was taken up to the manse, for the dreariness of the ruined farm was too much for the solitary child; and before a month was past, a prospect was opened for a more permanent place than could be found for her at the parsonage house,

There was a great handsome mansion at Belham Hill, near London, with garden houses, and coach house, and stables, and enormous iron gates, and rows of great trees, vainly trying to persuade itself by means of these rural appearances, that it stood in a great dark forest in the county of Warwick ; and this large domicile, with all its grounds, and shrubberies, und graperies, and gardens, was the residence of an over- Wwhelmingly rich citizen, who daily performed the journey from these agricultural splendors into a little dingy-looking

on with a feeling compounded nearly as much of'| the view from the upper rooms was unequalled in all the land !

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and was driven rapidly through streets and avenues till he reached the suburban elysium at Belham, and was received at the entrance hall by his daughter and his wife. This lasted so long, that it was unanimously believed by the three

Chis is true Liberty, when Free-born Men, having ta advise the Public, man speak free.—-EURIPIDES.

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personages just named, that it would last forever; it was.

|

/that the ordinary course of affairs had suddenly changed ;

lane in the city, and busied himself all day long about what

seemed to the eyes of the uninitiated, the paltriest concerns, He toiled from mora to night among bales of merchandize anu invoices of cargoes, and sold shiploads of sugar, or bought ware housefuls of cotton ; for nothing came amiss to him ; and everything flourished on which he laid his bands. After many hours of these labors, he stepped into his immensely decorated carriage at the door of the dirty counting house,

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was no longer on the table punctually at six; for a certain /tremendous cavaleade had departed one morning from the front door, with the principal vehicle profusely ornamented with black feathers, anda noble piece of sculpture, em- blematie of Hope and Resignation, rose gradually over the -humbler graves in the Highgate cemetery.

church, and yards of crape in all directions, | weeds of preternatural size. So the glories of Belvidere | were eclipsed for many months under a cloud of mourning. | The bereaved proprietor devoted herself to the cultivation of her husband’s memory and the spoiling of her daughter’s disposition, In every room of the house, the image of a red- faced, broad-shouldered, flat-featured man was suspended, who might have been taken for the fancy figure ofa black- smith retired from trade, but was glorified in the eyes of the widow as the likeness of one of the handsomest and most aristocratic-looking of men, The daughter, aged eleven, was treated with the respect befitting the representative of such a sire, and the heiress of so much wealth. She was far from beautiful; indeed if it had not been for her ex- pectations, she would have been thought positively ugly— for her hair was of the reddest; her eyes, though blue in color, Were not unanimous in their choice of the objects they fixed on; and her figure was bad, and her temper not of the best. But her mother thought by dint of constantly talking of her beauty, that she could induce it at last to come—so she spoke of her golden locks and her interesting eyes, and thought her Delia [such was the young lady’s name} the perfection of the human race.

“ [ve been thinking,” said the minister of Daisyside, to his wife, “of a nice situation for poor Bessey Miller. 'There’s that rich English lady up at the Wallace Arms, that drinks so much mineral water and is so generous to the poor, she wants a Scotch maid, and doesn’t care how young. Now Bessy’s just a wee past twelve, but she has sense and diseretion enough for twenty-five, and L’Il awa’ up this very day, and see what can be done.”

“Will she be kind to the wee bairn 2” inquired the wife, “for we could manage to find work for her here, and she’s no expensive, and reads so well, and is.b mindful, she wad be a perfect treasure, and we hae nane o’ our ain ye ken.”

“She'll be very kind,” replied the gentleman. “Anybody would be kind to Bessy Miller ; and hesides, I’m told she has just lost a Jass o’ her own, about the came age, @ most won- derful creature by all accounts, both for cleverness and beauty, for she sfeaks 0’ little else to al] the company at the Wells, — and she’ll, may be, tak’a kindness to Bessy for the dead bairnie’s sake.”

The minister started on bis benevolent mission and sueceede as he deserved. The lady agreed to instal his parishioner as dressing-maid and reader, and on the following morning the introduction took place. When Bessy timidly entered the room where her future mistress sat, she had many sad thoughts of the time when she first presented herself to the grand old lady in the drawing room at Daisy Hope. She clung to the good minister’s hand as if loth to lose the last link of connec- tion between herself and home, and cast shy looks at the occu- pant of the apartment; a large stout figure, rendered more striking from the exaggerated appearance of woe with which it was encumbered ; a face of vulgar good-nature, but with an assumption at the same time of vast stperiority and almost disdain ; how different was the first impression from that left by the appearance of the stately Mrs. Donnington, with her gold-headed cane, and her form reclining on the high-backed rich covered chair, with her feet on the splendid fur rug, and her elbow on the velvet table cover! Scarcely did the lady at the wells withdraw herself sufficiently from the absorption of her grief to listen to the minister’s words; searcely did she take her handkerchief long enough from hey countenance to look on the trembling little applicant for her favor ; but when she did so, when at last she mastered her emotions sufficiently to look at the shrinking figure, something—a stray expression of face—a faint resemblance in the color of the hair--an indefinable sentiment that struck upon some chord of recollection—made her suddenly rise from her chair, and advance a step or two towards the pair—* the likeness,” she said—* I never saw such a resemblance—she is my darling Delia over again ;” and then losing the expression of dignity and rank altogether, she flung her arms round the astonished Bessy’s neck, and kissed her a thousand times.

‘The woman is a Christian woman,” said the minister to his wife on his return, “in spite of her disregard of the proper position of the letter h, which seems a sore stumbling- block to the English nation, and she’ll be a perfect mother to Bessy Miller, for a’ her ignorance of grammar and cockney ways of going on. Riches is a snare to the slenderly educated, and she puts a little too much trust in corruptible treasure, but Bessy will be very comfortable, and has promised to write and tell us how she is treated.”

Daisy Hope fell into ruins faster and faster. It ceased to be occupied by any one. The proprietor did not like the expense of taking it down, and very wisely thought a few years would save him the trouble. The little road leading up tothe front door was overgrown with nettles; the stable roof began to fail in; the windows were broken by playful boys, or blown in by tempestuous weather: and year after year the grand catastrophe of a total tumble into heaps of stone and lime, drew nearer and nearer, and the possibility of repair became more and more problematical. But when things are at the worst they will mend. When eight or nine years had done their utmost to destroy ail resemblance in the old mansion toa habitable dwelling; when people began to forget all about its having been lived in; when the!

visible. Men with mysterious implements began measuring |

scale. ‘The intention seemed to be to renew the old manor- house as closely as possible, and not a bow window was

surprise as of grief that tho lady and her child perceived | The winding Forth, the castellated rock, the glowing hills to

How touching | as if in reverence of approaching death ; some of the more is the grief of a widow, left sole mistress of a place like| slightly wounded were received with a suppressed cheer. The Belham Belvidere, with a hundred and fifty thousand pounds | Alma and Inkermann were still fresh in people’s hearts ; in the four per cents! It overflows in square hatchments | over the middle window, and black velvet over the seat in|

and widow’s | the passengers’ names had been sent on by telegraph, and

} | }

ithe deck.

minister had long been dead, and the Wallace Arms had | ing of leaving the hospital. You must be anxious to get risen into high reputation, symptoms of reparation were | home.”

the ground, and trying the strength of the old walls; and it) no home—I lost my mother nine or ten years ago, and have was currently reported that a great Knglish nobleman had been in India ever since till we were sent out to the Crimea. bought the original estate and was going to build a mansion, I have no home.” ( at least the size of Windsor Castle. But the building as it they were both silent for a time,—* but I hope to get well proceeded gave no token of being desigued on so’ gigantic a) again soon,” he added, “and go out to join my regiment.

ETOWN, PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND, MONDAY, AUGUST 25, 1856.

[EDITOR axv PUBLISHER,

omitted, nor a jutting wall, nor pepperpot towers at every |a fortnight he entered the little apartment next his bedroom,

corner; so it began to look like a dwelling of the sixteenth | century suddenly transplanted into the present time, but combining in its interior arrangements the conveniences of |

modern life, with the strength and solidity of the past. And |

.

the north, the rich valley to the eastward, and the hills all

ized look, There was not in all Scotland a finer domain ora more comfortable dwelling than Daisy Hope.

One day in January last year, there was a crowd in the inner dock at Southampton, to sce the invalids from the Crimea brought to shore. Some were carried out looking so pale and worn, that the spectators drew involuntarily back

and indignation at official neglect boiled over into acts of kindness to the sufferers. The ships had been long expected ;

parents and sisters and brothers, had assembled from all quarter8 to welcome their friends home.

A sad and touching, yet an elevating sight, to see the heroic reception afforded by English mothers to their wound- el sons! If sorrow was there, it was chastened and ennobled by pride in the achievement that had brought the wound, Carriages were in waiting to convey the sufferers to their lodgings or hotels. Embraces were given and received without a word being said; and holding by the brother’s feverish hand, and walking close beside the litter on which he was carried, walked sisters many a one, who were afraid to ask the extent of the calamity, but were busy laying plans for their brather’s solace if he should turn out to be lame for life. All had nearly gone, Carriages and litters had moved out of the dock, and yet an old lady kept steadily at the end of the landing board, attended by a younger, who was dressed in the plain apparel commonly adopted by the ladies who devoted themselves at that time to the duties of the hospital ; and both kept their eyes intent on the cabin stairs from which the passengers emerged on At last there came up slowly and with pain a young man in undress uniform, who supported himself on a crutch, and had his left arm in asling. The young Jady touched the arm of the senior, and drew her veil over her face. The officer looked round, but no preparation had been made for his conveyance. No mother was in waiting with easy-hung coach. * Geta ca there for Major Donnington !” cried a rough voice from the paddle-box ; but the old lady stepped forward, and said to the almost fainting soldier, “*Deed Major Donnington, ye’ll hae nae cab, and gang to nae hotel. Ye'll just come to our branch o’ the Crimean Hospital, and ye’ll no want for nurses or any care that a mother could gie ye.”

The wouaded man considered that this was a piece of careful sympathy from an active and paternal adwinistration, and submitted to his fate with resignation. Accordingly he was installed in a carriage standing near the gate and driven off—and off, through streets, and out among trees, till he entered a moderate sized avenue and pulled up at the door of a pretty looking villa about two miles from the town upon the shore of Southampton Water. There he was soon shown into his apartment by the ladies, who had followed in an- other conveyance; and as medical assistance was kept in waiting, the extent of his wounds was ascertained and a speedy recovery promised. A bayonet stab in the left shoulder, and a bullet in the knee, were the memorials he carried away of the “Soldier's Victory.” But a grateful country was ready to pour balm into his wounds. Wasn’t he in a charming hospital, with a beautiful view from the window, the nicest, cleanest curtains for his bed, the best doctor in the county of Hans to attend to his recovery, and nurses so kind, so obliging, so sweet-toned and tender-handed, that it was a positive gratification to be ill! His servant arrived a short time after him with his luggage; his things were put away in convenient drawers, book-shelves in the neighboring chamber, to which he was to be removed when well enough to sit up, were filled with pleasant volumes; and in a room beyond, he occasionally in the absence of the younger nurse, heard a clear beautiful voice accompanied by a piano. But in spite of al! this care of a watchful govern- ment, the young man felt depressed at the thought that he was causing sO much trouble to two amiable ladies upon whom, individually, he had no claim, He was anxious to make all manner of inquiries, and was profuse in his acknowledgment for all theircare. And at first, notwithstanding the doctor’s prognostic, their care seemed of ne avail. A fever supervened, during which fancy played its usual tricks, and arrayed itself in the lost robes of memory; and in his wanderings there was a curious mixif@ up of Indian recollections and tke scenes he had seen in Scotland with his mother. When he had recovered sufliciently to be read to, the younger attendant sat at the side of his bed, and it seemed something like a continuance of his feverish aberration when her gentle words fell upon his ear, for the volumes she chose, were Orme’s History of Hindostan, and the Life of Warren Hastings, and the story of the Black-hole.

‘Mrs. M’ Vicar,” said the soldier, after one of these read- ings, “ will you answer me a question or two? And first, do you think I am perfectly recovered from delirium ?”

Ye’ll maybe be.the best judge o’ that, yersel,” was the cautious answer of the elder nurse.

The young man paused and seemed engaged in a minute inspection of the state of his own brain,

“ Who is the young lady who hovers over my hed, and reads in such musical accents, that I sometimes even now doubt whether she isn’t altogether an angel ?” ;

“ Her name is Miss Preedy—an English sister of charity, and I’m a mither o’ the same.”

“And does she always wear a yeil over the upper part of her face 2”

«“ Oh, no.”

She doesn’t squint, does she ?” inquired the Major, as a horrible suspicion crossed his mind that this might be the reason of the concealment of brow and eyes.

“I daursay, ye'll see and judge for yersel in that too,” replied Mrs. M’Vicar; «but L suppose you'll soon be think-

The officer sighed sadly. “ The fact is,” he said, “ T have It seemed so melancholy a confession that

What does the doctor say now ?”

The doctor’s report was hopeful, Ina week he sat up, in

and in three weeks he was invited to the drawing room. It was gratitude, probably, that made him think Miss Preedy so wonderfully beautiful. Light hair and dark blue eyes, a clear complexion, and the finest carved features with the sweetest smiling mouth, were enough to justify his admiration; but when he united to this amount of loveliness all her kindness, the care she had bestowed on his comforts;the hours she had devoted in the half-darkened room, to his amusement, there is no wonder that his feelings of gratitude took a far warmer shape, and, in short, that he was in love; madly, desperately, Yes, desperately, for how would it look in the announcement, that a wounded officer had married the hospital attendant ? and would a real sister of charity descend from the poetic dignity of her great and generous work to bestow her hand upon a patient? Besides, there are always plenty of other reasons in the mind ofa man with nothing but his commission ; for how could he expose so delicate, so refined, so Jady-like a being to the discomforts of his narrow means? How wisely people resolye when the object of their admiration is at a little distance, say a mile or two, or in the neighboring pa- rish, or in another street,—or even, as in this case, in a different room! For when he saw Miss Preedy, when he heard her speak, there was no farther use of argument, Ie determined to plead his cause with the utmost ardor, and with that view addressed Mrs. M’Vicar when he had an opportunity.

“ My dear friend,” he said, “ I have something very im- — to say to you. Was Miss Preedy ever in Bengal 2”

ss No.”

“Has she a father and mother alive 2”

“ I don’t think she has a living relation in all the world.”

“ Tm glad tohear it. Nor I. We are quite uneacumber- ed in that respect. Ah! Mrs. M’Vicar, I wish I were as rich as Croeseus, whoever that fortunate gentleman may have been; but the truth is, I am one of the most ostentatious persons in the Queen's dominions, and wear all the gold I possess upon my shoulders in the shape of epauletts; but if a true heart—if a devoted love—if years of—-. She’s very poor, I hope,” he said, suddenly interrupting himself, afraid that his intentions might be misunderstood.

“ Her faither was the last partner of the great house in London of Blogg and Preedy. You've may be heard of it, in the sugar line, and she was heiress to a’ the wealth o’ the firm.”

Major Donnington looked and felt as if another bayonet was entering his shoulder, another bullet lodging in his knee. He did not answer for a long time. At last he said, “ One only favor, my excellent friend; keep this a secret. It was a delusion,—-it shall not last. Take my thanks for all you have done; tell her how deeply grateful L am; I will leave this hospital to-day.”

“This is Miss Preedy’s villa, and a bonny little mansion itis; but its nae hospital, unless for yoursel’ that has no home to go te.”

The young man was overwhelmed more and more.

“ Ye’ll say farewall to her ere ye gang?” inquired Mrs. M’ Vicar.

The interview took place ; and some curious things occurred preparatory to it which puzzled Major Dounington almost as much as the discovery of Miss Preedy’s wealth. In the first place, as his knee continued a little stiff, he found a cane placed beside his chair to assist his walk to the drawing room. He looked at the stick. It was a long gold-head staff, of a very peculiar wood, and on the top was an inscription. It was a name: “ Elizabeth Donnington.” He passed his hand rapidly across his eyes as he looked at the words, and con- tinued his course. When he entered the drawing room Miss Preedy was sitting in an arm chair with the back to him. She wore a shawl—a rich patterned, gorgeous eclored, taste- ful bordered Indian shawl. She wore a black silk gown, with a particular stripe in the watering, which riveted his eyes. He advanced slowly towards the sitting figure, and saw her hand negligently spread on the arm of the chair. ile looked at her hand—smal!l, white, beautiful—and on her finger discovered a ring; it was an amethyst, surrounded with small pearls. There could be no mistake; the young man knelt and took her hand; it wasn’t drawn away. He kissed the ring. Had he not aright todoso? It had been his mother’s, and was once his own!

And all that blessed month of April the spring sun had been shining on the steep roofs and proud turrets of Daisy Hope. Paxton had sent down a man to Jay out a grand old Scottish garden, with broad grass walks, and a stone sun-dial in the middle,—and the place was now almost perfect,—and when furniture began to arrive the lucubrations of the in- habitants of Bank Row took higher flights than ever. Then came wagon-loads from Stirling. There was a rosewood table for the drawing room, with a noble velvet cover to it, on which was embroidered in gold thread, an impossible griffin ; there was a fur rug for the hearth ; and some chairs with the same heraldic blazonary as the table cloth; and speculations were rife as to when the new proprietors would come down to take possession.

One day in July the landlady of the Wallace Arms ushered into the bar, where I was sitting at Junch, and said, “ Oh, Mr. Jocktileg, its a’ come out! They’re up stairs in the best saloon—the three o’ them! And wha d’ye think they are? There’s Bessy Miller who took the name of Preedy after the half-dementit haveril that adopted her, because she was so like her docther; and there’s Mrs.. M’Vicar, the widow o’ the gude auld minister that recommended her to the place; she’s had her for governante and companion ever since Mrs. .Preedy died; and the gentleman is Walter Donnington, the son o’ the grand auld leddy that was Andrew Miller’s lodger ; and he’s married to Bessy Miller—and oh ! man, what a bonny cretur she is! and they’re a’ going to live at Daisy Hope— Mrs. M’ Vicar tauld me so hersel—she could keep the secret no longer; and the estate’s a’ bought back ; and look, there they go! what a handsome couple !— a wee cripple maybe, the man, butstall and strong !—and wheesht ! that’s Bessy Miller—they’re just walking down to the Hope to see if the furniture’s all right, and they’ll tak’ possession at the end of the week.”

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A lady, whose kindness to animals amounts almost toa mania, was one day sadly annoyed by a blue-bottle fly, Calling her maid, she bade her catch the fly, and without hurting it, put it out of the window. Sceing the girl hesitate to raise the sash, she inquired the cause. Why, madam, it rains so very hard,” answered the mischievous creature. “True,” replied the mistress; “put the poor thing in the ot2er room.”

A Simite—An angry woman in a room is as bad as a lighted eracker—for when once she goes off, there’s is no stopping her, and when she does go out it is sure to be with a bang.

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