\ WEEKLY __- EDWARD WHELAN] — ——— = Tat SY . Literatur MAIR-LOVE. There ecems a love in hair, thotigh it be deads It is the gentlest, yet the strongest thread Of our frail plaut,—a blossom from the tree, Sarviving the proud trunk.”"—Letem Huvr. Ck Daring 9 late excursion to the seaside we were struck by| alone; and none loved or the appearance of a wide mouthed, old fashioned glass bottle, or interrupt her in her solitary meditations. Ayesha was placed upon the mtantlosbelf of the humble sleeping apart+{as thoughtless and extravagant as she w ment it was our fate to occupy for one night only, ere we! generous, CHARLOTTETOWN, PRINCE omen endian Chis is true Liberty, when Free~born Hen, having to advise the Public, man speak free.-—euRirmes. — — meen serge ——— — A history somewhat similar ¢ served in her manners, could not boast of a single friend or. Mary. confidant in the whole school, nor did this the slightest uneasiness, cared for her sufficiently to seek, EDWARD I 0 the above is related of al how many aa bright young Creole, residing many years ago in a select establish- r jment for young ladies, in the neizhbourhood of Londan. Ayesha was what is called a parlour boarder; and being | considerably older than most of the girls, and prowd and re-_ enema ee ee ee haired child were now among the angels of heaven! s on earth, although she continues meek and patient to the ‘ as rich; and so/last. The death of a beloved object seldom fails to sanctify that if one of her schoolfellows only happened to | aud make us better—to wean us gently from earth to heaven ; passed on to guyer scenes. The contents of the said bottle | admire any trinket, however valuable, she would take it off such, at le pudzied us hot a little, just at first, to decipher; cons'sting, as we preser.tly found out, of several picces of human hair, | het riches and her warm generous heart, she was not beloved ; | of divers shades aud colours, not braided, but each tied singly together with a piece of thread, or faded riband, to which a} directly, and insist upon her keeping it. But still, for all something more than this is needful for affection. Returning home from church one dark, winter night, small slip of paper was attached bearing a name on it, But, Ayesha lost a small gold bracelet, which she always Wore, some of them were sadly discoloured from age, and not being | The most diligent inquiries were made after it without! We remembered just glancing at it the night before, and taking waitten very legibly at first almost wholly obliterated. it for some curious specimens of moss or sea-weed, and were still looking with much interest en these newly discovered relics, when our simple hostess entered the room. She was surprised to see us already up and dressed; and, upon our turning .the conversation to the object which we still held in our hands, told us that it was her children’s hair. ‘ But you will laugh at my old country fashion.’ * No, indeed,’ was the eager reply. * Let me see, continued the old woman, encouraged by cur evident interest in the subject, ‘there ought to be nine of weep whom they had thought so cold and proud. At length lin stealing away te look at, and kiss, them. First, there was Tom, the grey-headed man who drove you hither. Ah, you would not think, to look at him nyw, that his hair was once so black and shining. Ile was “handsome youth, was Tom, just like his poor father! but time, and sorrow, and poverty, work great changes!) Then came George, who died abroad of the fever. And little Walter; nothing would do but he must bea sailor also ; but he never came back from his first voyage. Toen there was hair could not have been theirs, waich was black insted of eoronct that a qucen might have envied. Mary and Susan, twins, and so much alike that people used to be puazied to tell them apart; but Susan’s hair wis a shade darker. Well, she diel too; and poor Mary pined| which has never been solved to this day. Human fife is full | success, while the girl, who cared so little in general for these things, became strangely restless and unha a reward which must have been double the value of the lost Jewel, to whoever ceuld find and restore it to her. After the lapse of a few days it was brought back by a poor old woman, upoyg whom Ayesha not only cheerfully bestowed the promised reward, but gave her a thousand thanks and blessings beside. And when gone, she sat down and burst into a flood of pussionate weeping ; while the girls gathered round her in silent won- der and commisseration. It scemrd so strange for her-to ene of the teachers remarked, that the bracelet did not appear to be so very valuable after all. #e To me,’ said Ayesha, «it is above all price!’ And ,turning it half round, her companions saw that there was hair in it¢ and some among them ceased to wonder. A few days afterwards Ayesha’s parents exme to fetch her j home, and her schoolfeliows noticed to one another that the ilight. Whose it was, and why 60 cherished by t! and lonely girl above all her other treasures, is a mystery the woman was | ast, is the inteationsof a@// our afflictions, if we could but think so; while change and estrangement harden and petrify ithe affections until they seem turned to stene ? ‘It is a periious thing,’ says Frederica Bremer, ‘ when the beloved imuge i the heart of man is destroyed, since with it the best of his life is annihilated.’ | The lover sends a lock of hair to his mistress, friend to ‘friend, parent to child, child to parent. We verily believe 'vnd romantic and touching episedes, An old lady dwellingin the wildest and most beautiful part of Derbyshire, and whose house had the reputation of being | haunted, wh we know not, unless that it was the very place lof all other: aspirit might have been supposed to fancy for ‘its wanderings, once kept a quantity of pale brown, silken ‘hair ina drawer—thick clustering. tresses, half as big as a }person’s hand, and long in proportion, They had belonged |to Hr only child, and the poor m ther found a sad consolation and weepover them by the hour tovether. Helen W——— was far from being beautiful, but her eyes were bright and gentle, and her hair the admiration of fail beholder, It swept the ground when she stood upright. l hut then, té be sare, she was not very tall; and when braid- ed and twited avound that small elassic-looking head, after a peculiar fishion of her own, formed a rich and yet simple Some people suid } }not the cag? with Helen. : There wore never thought to be any spirits then haunting SLAND, MONDAY, MAY 1, 1855. _ | The young soldier, perishing on the field of giory, prays |over when he came back, and he with his dying breath that a lock of his hair may be eut off; betrothed to her early grave. and sent in remembrance of him to his mother and his poor And when it reaches them, having travelled perhaps seem to afford her | hundreds of miles, how sacred and holy is such a relic ? She was evideotly happiest when . Hit JOURNAL OF POLETICS, LITERATURE AND NEWS, — —<— [EDITOR ano PUBLISHER ee ee ee a bud of fair promise as that golden- lafterwards she beckoned to her mother, and asked her to {send for Henri, which was imme lately done; butit was all had only to follow his young Soon after this the Count de V. went abroad, and the poor bereaved mother was left alone, with nothing but | We| that sweet hair-love to console her. | can finey the aged mother’s tears and kisses, and ‘ his Mary,’ laying it on her heart, and never being known to smile again We can remember a girl at school who kept the bair of all her young companions and friends, braided in neat litte braids, with the initials of the original possessors attached to each, and had already accumulated quite a store of these treasures, to which she was continually adding; for Catherine was possessed of one of those happy and affectionate dispo~ | sitions that seem to love every thing and every bedy that /comes in iis way. She was, perhaps, somewhat too visionary (and romantic for this coldAnd every-day world; but that | was far from being a fault in our eyes then — or now, for |the matter of that; only that we pity wher wo used to Sympathise, Alas, for those of the passionate feeling sad {the dreaming hope! Meeting her some time ‘afterwards in . . . .. . . ! . ;: . * ppy, offering | the sume hair-love to be universal, and pregnant with a thous- | society, we inquired concerning these school-day treasures. | Catherine jau shed, ‘Ah? said she ‘I have burnt them all long ago. What was the use of keeping such silly things ?’ ‘So it is,’ xs Poor L. E. L. says—and no writer was evar better skilled in the hidden revealings of the humea heart, except that they bore, in general, too much the sombre hue of her own sad and prophetic spirit. ‘So it is. What changes are wrought in a few passing years! How we do grow cold, indifferent and incredulous, we who were so affectionate, sc eager, so confiding! We-set out in life with believing too much, and end in believing too little.’ Leig: Hart mentions some one who, as he writes, ‘ia pure classic taste and graceful teuderness kept the hair of a deceased friend in two marble vases.’ Bat to us there seems something cold and overdrawn in this exquisite refinement of 'sensib lity, and we infiuitely prefer the poor old wountry- woman's glass bottle! We were told the other day of a little school-child who lat silent } that it was? son of wea kuess apd il!-health ; but such was j eried bitterly upon being shown the hair of the unfortunate Marie Antionette, queen of Franee, which is said to have | turned as white as snow in one single night of terror. She and pined away until she grew to a more shadow, and then) of sech romances; and stranger, far stranger ofteutimes| these anciet halls; perhans the girl’s sweet voice, wich , had heard and read of this many and many a time without followed her; they do say that twins seldom survive each other. Next was Hetty—no, thai’s notit. I can’t make out the names very clearly, but L know Hetty's hair; it was like threads of gold—we never see such hair now a Cays‘| not the gold it; and is not a whit more presious in the} Nor were they so lonely then, fox tire Ah, that’s my poor Hetty’s! bat not so bright and sunny! | jewelled exsket than s'mply tied with a faded end of riband.| came to stay there for weeks t The ladies used to stop me in hair, and-they all said that God's will b> dono! It is a weary world for one like her, so good andl gentle; and, doubtless, He took he: away ia His love from the evil to come.’ The aged woman paused in her simple revelations; her eyes were fille] with tears, an! we could not, fur the life of us, halp weeping too. mother’s darl‘ng—her ‘summer chi!d, es Frederica Bremer would have said. ‘ Thon there is Kate; she married a soldier when she was bat sixteen, and went abroad with him. But it is so long now since we have heard anything of her that she may be long. Next came Robert, married teo, and living near London, but badiy off. And Bessie, my merry little Bessie !—tne com- fort of my old age! Hark ! she is singing now like a bird! —b'ess her! But shell be leaving me before fong, I suppose! Ah, well, please God we shall all meet together in heaven! For some moments neither spoke, while the singing came nearer and nearer, and, presently afterwards, Bessie’s bright young face appeared at the entrance, to tel] us that breakfust was ready. ‘I'm afraid T have wearied you.” said the old woman, as sie nut back the bottle reverently into its accustomed place. We aasured her with truth that such had not been the ease; but feit sad, nevertheless, to think how the families of the poor, ay, and the rich too, fur the matter of that, come to be divided and scattered up and down in the world. And what a sweet faney was that hair-lore, which kept alive the remem'yrance of each in the widowed heart of their aged parent! Many a sad and trethful reminiscence, heard and experienced yearg ago, golden links in the chain of memory an! association, come back with the recollection of that old relic bottle. There was a pale. quiet-eyed girl, governess in a fami! with which we were once intimate, who used to be very kind to us children, and let us rummage her bag of embioidery | the estrangement of some mutual friends, and wondered silks, or set her cotton box ‘ to rights,’ as we termed it, just whenever it suited us, and seemed glad to purchase a few y | staked her very life at that moment upon his fidelity, as she | than fiction. | Har-love is equally for the rich and poor. The relict may ‘he gorgeously set. bat in that case it hallows the gold and miniatures, however Jike, are but a resemblance. Bat this oe oun felt even then must be too great to Just. ix & cold, wockine emile on hic thin, « ‘brow is wrinkled and contracted, his His moressed lip. } } i . ° ° - ‘ jmight be hard singing up and down the sloomy corridors { e ee 4 s = ask rom morning till nicht. served to exorcise them, or the living lsarghine of aer presen-e banished every darker superstition. youtiful and the nobie together ; at which time they t f Lie the strect to admire Hetty's /A love token which ail may exchangs. Flowers wither ; | danced every night in the old banqueiting hall until the fuded she was too beautiful to hive | } ’ - > ° ey e |hanners scomed ta cate the contagion of their wild mirth, is @ part, as it were, of the heloved‘one! An actaal and / and swayed to and fro with a quick, restless motion. It was y { Si ja satden aad colouring to the very tips of ber little slender | Gagers, ioe 28 long a-csin in ber agitation ‘as there was,anr ' cyes stera and deep need, to wind it up, while her partners” whispered prateer}@ reality. ‘sunken; and worse than ail, kis heart has bee me seared an ionly serve! to increase her embarrassment. | hardened. _comfortless and lonely hearth, as he fliizs into them, one by | one, the records of past days. ‘once, some withered flowers, a MS. poem! poet,—that proud and aged man, or wou'd have been, had | not the fountain of song been too soon tarned into bitterness | in happier days—and now, unbidden, and lke * sea-birds,’ as | dear old Christopher North calls them, ‘that come unexpeet- | edly floating up from some inland vale,’ a tile of past re- collections swept across the old man’s heart, until he howed down his stern head, and wept likea child. A blessing upon those white sea-birds cf memery! touching the floodgates of bygone thoughts and feelings with their gentle wings, and nestling and brooding over the world wearted soul, until it grows calm and peacefal beneath their soothing influence. A young girl sits alone, with a pale cheek and flashing eyes, holding in her trembling hands a tress of black, shining hair—Aer own! but which she never thought to have re- ceived again thus. What a tale of hear'-withering misery does such a scene present! and we fear it is far from being an uncommon one. How well does she recollect when he half begged, half stole it from her, with many a fond 5 caressing word and earnest vow! And how she would hive ‘had already done her happiness! They had just heard of jtogether. It seemed impossible for those who loved one another ever to quarrel. Alas! for the hour when we first Merrily leap up the devouring flames on met Helen knew that she had beautiful hair, she had been told | hes been powerfully expressed, ‘is an actual relic of the A pocket-book, a purse, | to hear that she herself was also beautiful —- at least in his dead also before this—she was never very strong poor child!) delicately embroidered, a white kid glove, for it was white | eyes, who poured forth all his sweet Gartery, and if so, she Yes, he was a! cared for no other admiration in al! 'would not tell him this; but oviy laughed and shook her and scorn, Next came a tress of hair—the same bright hair! pretty specches—hut her blushes hetrayed her. whose silken folds he bad so often twined aroun? his finyers | of it athousand times; but it was something quite strange thé world. head, declaring that she did not believe one word of all those > The following moruing the young Count de V ealled to ask her of her mother for his bride; and the news soon spread over the country that the reutle Helen W—— was engaged to be married to him in the spring, after which event they were still to resuvie, for the present at least, at the old ball; which was good tidings for the poor, who loved her dearly, and would have been sorry indeed to have lost their kind benefactress. Helen never danced so-much after this, but loved better to sit apart. but not alone, in the deep recess of the old-fushion- ed window. Some of her young companions wsed to wonder among themselves what they could fied to talk about night after night, but grew wiser perhaps before long. Not only the Count who migkt be supposed to be somewhat prejudiced by his affection, or the fond and happy mother, bat even the very domestics, noticed the striking improvement in Helen's personal appearance — she really was growing beautiful ? There was a bright colour upon her fair cheek, a light on ber tranquil brow and in those meek, loving eyes, inexpressibly touching. A few weeks before the wedding was appointed to take ithinking much about it, but that was very different to the ; real sight of that silvery tress, ‘ bleached by sorrow.’ | *Woaiech would you rather have ? asked her mother,— the | hair or the ring? The latter was of massive gold, end jsparkling with gems; but the veneration ia that ebild’s heart was brighter still. ‘The hair, to be sure, mamma !’ Oh, yes, hair is more precious than jewels 9 thousand living relic, speaking to the heart with a strange power; and {on one of these occasions that Helen's long hair, escaping | times, especially when it is that of the loved or dead! We recalling many a sweet bygone hour of a happiness which we | from its fisten'nga, swept the marble floor as she whirled ismile to receive the one; the other makes us weep and ) ‘round and reand in the gay waltz, and then, stopping all of! tremble in the midst of our deep happiness. The former is | The old man turns over the hoards of his youth. There | Hatty had, iteseama, been the} } es with pride; the latter hidden in tenderness. Hair- love is the secret dream of a fond heart; at ouce a poetry and A iuxary to the “cunsolation to the | afficted—a blessing to the bereaved ! A leck of hair, as it ead ; as much so in its proportion asashes, and more lively and recalling.’ Now, half caressingly, it twines its long silken folds round our fingers with a living fondness—or we But she | faney it; while our breath stirs its thin threads until it moves and speaks with the sweet, still yoice of an undying memory! Verily, we have a gentle faith in hair-love. —————» Colonial Legislature. THE MAINE LIQUOR BILL. Wepnespay, April 4. On motion of the Hon. Mr. Palmer, the House resolved itself into corumittee of the whole to take into consideration the petitions praying for the abolition of the liquor traffic, Mr. Perry in the chair. Hon. Mr. Pataenr.—Mr. Chairman, the resolution I am about to submit is the same as ti at which passed this House last year, and the Bill in accordance with it was thoroughly discussed here at that time, and it was well debated in the Legislative Couneil, which body thought fit to postpone the measure till this Session. Great disappointment was nature ally felt by the friends of the Bill, but they had, as all others, to sulmit to the will of the Legislature, and await the time for action. And, Sir, since that, the question has lost no interest; on the contrary, it has received vast accessions of strength. It has been ayitated sufficiently to keep it promi- place, the Count de V had oeeasion to go up to London | on business of importance, which was not, however, expected hours’ peace at any price. Poor thing! it was but little) wake up from this sweet dream, and see the dark summer-! to detain him above a day or two; buat lovers’ partings are | rest she got, what with one and another; and then she was 89 good natured, so wonderfully swect-tempered, never saying nn angry word to any of us. sometimes, when we saw her resting ber head upon her hauds, and locking so sad and weary, would whisper to each other that poor Miss M had the headache, and hush out wild sports all at once, but the worst of it was we soon forgot it again, growing as noisy as ever, and she never thought to chide us. In the aforesaid cotton box was one little packet which had frequently excited our curiosity. It was carefully sealed up and she always evaded our questions on the subject, taking it geut!y away, and declating that she would not lose it for the world; from whieh we naturally concluded that it must be someting very valuable indeed. It chanced, however, on one particular evening, when we had as usual berved hard for a sight of this concesled treasure, that she siniled sadly, and prepared, with a sweet and patient kind ness to gratify our restless curiosity. But we noticed that her han ls trembled as she untied the slender fastenings. ‘Oaly a lock of khair!” was our first exclamation of wonder ani disappointment. And then followed a whole string of inquiries. * Whose is it? Your parents ? Or your brother’s, perhaps ?” for we knew that she had a brother in India, The poor governess only shook her head; but we could See ihe tears fulling fact and silently upon this little relic ; and, half sorry that we had prevailed upon ber to open it, dard not ask any more questions ” Not long after this, Miss M——'s health became so deli-ate that it was thought best that she should return home for a while, and try the effects of her native air. Every one was sorry to port with her, and hoped that she would get quite weil, and come back to them again very soon, But we never saw het aay more. Some say that she died of eon- BUMPLGN 5 otiers, of a brdken heart! Anyhow, the st of her secret grief £9 long and meekly borne, together wit that of the much treasured earl, was buried with Eer. We all loved her dearly, and! clond gathering over the sun-shine of an affection that had withstood so many trials, and we fondly thought wou!d never failus. Well, if that could pass away in showers of weeping only; but far wfiener it deepens into a tempest of fierce wrath, whose angry waters make shipwreck of our peace for evermore! A word, perhaps, might have allayed its funy. One drop of the oil of haman kindness flung upon the raging billows of passion—but we are too proud to utter it—and repenting only when it is too Mte, sit down amid the ruins and pray to die. No one who saw that young girl a few years afterwards would ever have imagined the tress of raven hair to be hers, which had turned since then into a silvery grey; or, hat for the pale check and withered form, suspected the dreary weiglit of woe so long and smilingly endured, fir she was too proud to complain. They pitied her when hor heart broke at length ; they should rather have rejoiced ! solemn things. For the first time, the timid [elen not only | suffere] bat returned his embrace. clinging to hia witha sad | foreboling tenderness, And when he would have quitted | her at length, she called him back once more to her side, as if she could not bear the thought of her separation, even for so short a time, Helen !’ said her lover. «Your cheeks are burning, and yet your hands feel as cold as ice !” * Yes, [ am silly to agitate myself in this manner when you will be back agtin so soon, There, go now, and God bless you? That night the girl was in a high fever, canght, it seems, at a neighbouring cottage, where she had been 'to visit a poor ‘Why, I searcely know what to make of you, my Jittle |; nently befure the public; the number ot those who have petitioned for it has increased, and the petition which was entrusted to the Hon. Mr. Lord, Mr. Qaviland and myself, contains, L believe, more than 8,000 signatures; those sig- natures { believe to be genuine, It was stated that the names of children had been appended to former petitions. That objection does not apply to the present one, . There aro few, if any signerg under sixteen years of age. Priscre may be the names of some females subscribed to it, but net to any vreat extent; and, Mr, Chairman, if it were otherwise, that should not detract from the consideration which it should ro- ceive from this House. On the contrary, that very cireum- stance should give additional weight to the application, as the sex is distinguished for itsintelligenceand nicediscrimination of the moral condition ofsecicty. It may be as weil fo state that in placing the several sheets of signatures together, two simi- lar enes have been appended to this petition. ‘This is purely sick child. ‘ Mother,’ said she, in the intervals of her deliriam, +1 am glad that Henri is not here; he woald have been so The ubsent daughter married and far atvay. sends home a tiny ctrl in @ letter—it is that of her first born! «Phe softest, silkiest, brightest hair, she verily believes, in all the so many ringsof gold. Ah, if they could but see it! Why merriest of the household band—the most mischiefl-oving, provoking, and yet fascinating being one can well imagine. ‘Threats and reproof were alike thrown away upon her; buat a fond word would bring her to her mother’s side in a mo- ment, ali penitence and humility, although ten to one, the next she was as wild asever. But she became grave all of a sudden, married and took to housckeeping by ingtinet as it were, for she could haye had but little previous experience in tiny curl will be kept and prized hy the happy grandmother, the same time, with the sad experience which is the heritage Jof old age, of the precariousuess.of al] Lagan felicity, aid world! And its dear little head is quite covered with it, ke | avieved at my illuess, and I shall be weil agaia by the. time | he comes hack.’ : es | #7 hope so, dearest ? And Mrs. W—— likewise ‘thought that it was best he shguld be absent, since his pre- ‘sence cond not do any good. Like Helen, she had no fear. physician himself evidently grew anxious as to its result. * Mother,’ said the invalid again, as she heard them talking together around the hed, ‘ whatever happens, do not let them jeut off my huir! fe would be sorry? — | * But stil! more go to Jose you, my precious child ?” *Ah! bas it come to thut? ‘Takeit, then, and God’s will ks done.’ W. Mrs. ent off all Helen’s beantiful tresses with these maiters; but lowe makes ur apt scholars, and heeame her own hands, for she knew her life was at stake ; and now | low; we cannot a a avery pattern wife and mother. We need not say how that that the “ivalid felt jr also, she never moanel or shrank ‘ve adopt a principle so ger i back baring, her temples throbbed strangely. ack. for life was wory dear to her. Aod then, gather-| Mor myself, I have always ini be ; ? ; ory dear %: : , a ate use of spirits as a beverage who wept for joy as she remembered all this. Mindfal, at! ing it together, the fond mother put it care‘ully aside, with nothing immoral in the moderate u - ; _many tears. Helen could not weep; her eyes were ry and | yet ; : i ! Abinaiy.* A few ‘houre| their use by iuterporing legislats accidental, as the duplicate was intended to go before the ' Legislative Council, and with that trifling exeeption, I belicve ‘all the signatures to be entitled to eredit. The question in- | valved, as is well known, is one that for a long space of time, particularly for the last two or three years, has been 60 thoroughly discussed and investigated, and such opinions have been expressed by men able and eminent, that but little new | wround is left for any one to travel over. I observe, Sir, ne) . ; ’ . as sir t suit in Nova Scotia this year has been the same as it seems but yesterday she was bata child herself, the | But, moanwhile, the fever increxsed in violence, and the that the result 10 Nova Seo 5 | with us last Session. It passed the House of Assewbly and [wns postponed by the Legislative Council. Jn New Bruns- iwick it has received the sanction of both branches, and it ‘will he in eperation in a few mouths. Jn Canada i has passed the [ouse by a large majority, aud in several of the (Jnited States a probibitory law has been ia operation Ab ype leonsiderable period of time. With these examples beiore ms | Mr. Chairman, [ say it is not hazardous in us to adgpt t is | ta aceused of crude or hasty legislation when rally approved in other countries, been of opiaion that there was - tional and expedient to restrain it was no less constitutiona sve a abition, if ho other Sead te vat al