so>..lUS = Mew VOL. XVII. 3 ARSHIBALD McKAY, Moncton, N. B, CONTRACTOR AND AGENT FOR TME PURCHASE) “ND SALE OF Ships Timber, Masts, Plank, Howse Frames, and LUMBER ofall dimensions and descriptions, | Ce Orders for early shipment will receive | prompt alfenhen, Feb'y 1%. 1867. ae ee, 3m ~ FRANCIS 8. LONGWORTH, | Barrister and Attorney-at-Law, | Oerice — PAVILLION HOTEL, ensley's) ! (next door to Hon. Joseph <hariettezown, - - - P. £. Island. Jan. 14, 1967. ' ——— CARD. | THOMAS KELLY, Barrister-at-Law, Notary Puilic, | AND i CONVEYANCER, | Summerside,-----P.E.1. | ght OE __ R. REDDIN, ‘Attoruep and Barrister ~ at - Law, CONVEYANCER, &c. Office: - Great Goorge Street, ly pd : Charlottetown. ( Near the Cathotic Cathedral.) September 3. 1866. tf A. McNEILLL, Aactioneer and Commission Merchant, | MASON’S THREE-STOREY BUILDING, Dorchester Street. CEE, 3.00002 cce- P. EF. Island. July 23. ti FALL GOUDs. | Y variocs Ships from ENGLAND, Steamers from BOSTON and HALIFAX, { have received my FALL & WINTER STOCK, consisting iv part of 26 Caske & Cases General Iroumongery. l Cwek Outlery, 1 do Traces, 1 do Shovels, i de Hoes, t do Shot, 26 Boxes Tin, ae pieces Pivugh Metais. 16 Tons N.ils & Spikes, 23 bundles Spring Steel, 15 do Shoeing do 3 do Ciet do 7 do UDlister do 184 Tous Iron, 1 Cask Cart Boxes, 1 do Bolts & Nuts, 1 de Serewa, 1 dw Files, 1 Box Axia, 5 Paire Bellowes, 1 Basket Vices 158 Kege Points, $2 Di ume Varnish, 6 do Turpenzine, 2 Carks du 4 du Putty, 1 do Venetian Red, 1 do Ye low VOechre, Vermilion, Prussia: Blue, Drop Black, Umber, De Sienna, 4 Hhds Paint Oi, 1 dw Olive deo 2 -Bbis Seal do 1 do Lubrneating Oil, 30 do Kervsene Vil, 11] Boxes 6 lass, 2 Crates Seuttles, i Case Sooemeuter’s Thread 1 Bale Curled Hair, 1 Cask Giue, EK ———S eee LY JOUR NAL OF \) Q ZB Z G Lp GF ns 0 NES Ob ROE, Ha APWT cs» POLITICS, LITERATURE * 6 SF Oye Be 9, vm se i ” a3¢ 05S ee ene CHARLOTTETOWN, PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND. MONDAY, “This is true Liberty, when Freeborn Men, havingto advise the Public, may speak free.”’*---Euripides. : ———— -——= —_-— <> 7 MARCH 18, 1867. ‘KING SQUARE HOUSE. —ew wr ——n- UPERIOR SEALSKIN COATS. BEER & SONS. A GUUD “@ SPLENDID LOT of FUR CAPs, «&% CLO CAPS and FELT HATS. BEER & SONS. Asssoitment of CLOTHS. BEER & SONS. pvp FURS. BRER & SONS. LLATS—in Silk. Velvet & Straw. pt BEER & SONS. [®s Goons in great variety. BEER & SONS. MANTLES. BEER & SONS. — c YARPETS, in Wool, Felc and Hemp. ( BEER & SONS. SHAWLS and Ss BE peaV ¥Y OVERCUATS and other Ready made Clothing. BEER & SONS. Ts’ Wool Scaris, Shirts. Gloves, BEER & SONS gt ENTS’ &e., &e. poreave ‘ROBES. BEZR & SONS _— [S and SUUES ip variety. i BEER & SONS. UBBER BUUTS und SHUES. BEER & SONS. PELE ond RUBBER OVERSIOES. BEER & SONS. (ANablan MocvasaNs ' BEER & SONS. PV SR#ANTED aXes. BEER & SONS. ‘gXHRESUING MACHINE ard MUD DIG GER CASTINGS and CHAIN BEER & SONS. noe The above, together with our usual assurtment of Dry Guods, Hardware, Groceries, &e., &c., &e., are offered vn the best terms for prempt payment. BEER & SONS. Ch'town, Nov. 19, 1266. 18, Trafford Chambers, South John Street, Liverpool, January 1s', 1867. T. THOMAS begs to inform his friends ¢ that he tas cts day taken into Partnership his son, JOHN T. THOMAS, Juyr. The business will in future be carried on under the style oy Firm ot THOMAS & SON, MERCHANTS, Liverpoo! & Prince Edward Isiand. Jan 25, 1867 if 1866. 3 NEW FALL AND WINTER GOoODs. Y the recent arrivals from London, Liverpool, Glasgow, Canada, and the United States, the Subecriber has received a large and well selected STUCK of Seasonable Goods, comprising : Wovtlen Goods, Blankets, Flaunels, Serges, Kugs, Carpetings. Hearth RKuys. Horse Rays, Flannel Shirtings iu great variety, Draggets, Cloths, a large stock in Blaek. Bine, Hrown, and Invisible snper- fine Broad Cloths; Mantle Cloths in variety ; Whit- neys, Beaver. Devons. Moseow, Pilot. Lambskin, Seal, Astracan, Doeskins and Tweeds, and other varieties, very cheap—Shawls, a large varicty. Staple Dry Goods. Printed. Brown, Striped and White Cottons, Fancy Shirtings, Red Blue and White Cotton Warp, best quality, Linen and Cotton Ticking, Bags and Bagying, Towels, (Turkish) aud other kinds, Towelling, Osnabargs, Canvas, &c., &c. Dress Goods. 3 de Dyewoods, 250 Ibs. extract Logwoed, | 5 Bales Rope. | These goods have been well bought, and with Btock on Shelves and in Warehouse, form a very jarge assortment, and are offered at my usual low prices—eiiher wholesale or retail—fo Cash. W. E. DAWSON. Great George Street, Dee. 3. 1566. NEW GOODS! NEW GOODS! HE Subscriber would inform the Inhabi- - tants of P. EB. feland, that, on the arrival of the Brig ANN, from Liverpool, G. B., be will otter, Wholesale and Retail, For Cash or good Joint Notes of Hand, Nos. 1.2 & 3 WHITE LEAD, in 56, 28, & 14 toa. ; Black, Red, & Yellow PAINTS, in 28 & 14 lba.; | Bored and raw LINSEED OILS; Chance’s Smethwick GLASS ; PUTTY. Black and White, is Bladders 28 and | 14 Ibe.: CUT NAILS, and CUT SPIKES; Diamond Head DECK SPIKES; Hara Refived aed Common IRON, assorted sizes; Barrels and Kegs COAL TAR; Barrels Black and Bright VARNISH ES; Code HEMP aud WIRE CORDAGE; alts Extra and Navy Boiled CANVAS; ce YELLOW METAL, to } YELLOW METAL BUTT BOLTS,7 « 8; CLINCH RPENGS, [ron and Yellow Metal: Crates and Cask« GLASS. CUINA aud EARTH- ENWARE,—Crates aasurted (or eountry ure ; ANEW MIXTURE for Bottoms of FISHING BOATS, much approved of by Englieh fishermen. Parties wanting any of the above articles will do wei’ by calling and inapecting them, at the OLD STAND, farmerly cccupied by W. W. Lown & Co., HEAD of LORD'S WHARF; Water Street. ARTEMAS LORD. Oct. 29, 1866. Dissotution ef Coparinership. (PuE CU-LTARTNERSHLP heretofore existing between the Subscribers, as TOBAC- CO MANUFACTURERS, is this day dissolved by matial consent All parties owing the late Firm are requested tu make payment «o MORIN LOWDEN, who alone is authorized to receive debts, aud who assumes the liabilities of the mte Firm. MOKIN LOWM[EN, D. J. RICHARDSON. Ch*town, January i, 1867. EFERKING to the ahove, the Sub- seriber would respectfally inform the public ¢hat be will attll continae the business of manufae- | Tacks, Blacking, Knives and Forks,. In Silks plain and fancy. Baratheas, Parmattas. French Meriuos, Casimeres, Camlets, Coburys, Lustres, Alexandra Cloth, Alpaecas, Cloth of Gold aad other varieties in the latest styles, very low for cash Gents’ Furnishing Department. Over aud ander Coats, Pants, Vests, Flannel Shirts, White and colored Cotton Shirts, Collars Tiee, the newest etyles in Hats, Cloth and Far Caps, Boots, Shoes, Slippers, Maffiers, Drawers, ander Shirts in variety, Web and Kubber Braces, Socks, Gloves, &c., &e , cheap and gocd. Furs. Stone Martin, Miuk, Fitch, Kolenski, Chinchilli. and Mountain Martiu, in sets and separately, Mus- quash, Ermine and other kinds, Fur Gloves, Mits and Caffe, Siberian Lambskins, &c., &c. Varieties. Brossels Carpeting, Stair eds and Eyes, Door Mats in variety, Dressed Sheepskins, Skirts, Skirt- ing. Cune Hoops, Black aud colored Silk and ther Velvets, Buttonsard . rimmings for dresses in great variety, Feathers and Flowers, very good znd cheap, Jewellry, Kibbons, Laces, Hair Netts, Gloves, Hosiery, Veils in great variety, Ladies Liven, Lace, Paper aud Steel Collars and Cutts, Curtain Damaske, Fringes, Rings. Loops, and Pole I‘Ends, Shoe Thread, Twine, Candle Wick. Hardware. Ironand Steel well assorted, Glass, Putty, Paints, Linseed Oil, Machinery Oil, Nails, Spies, Brads, ack and Per Kuives. Scissors, Shot, Gan Wads, Files, House and Sleigh Bells, Cash Boxes, Brashes of all kinds, Wine Glasses, Tamblers, &c., &c. Groceries. Tea very superior, Cocou prepared, Crushed, Brown and Granulated Snyars, Rice, Pearl Barley, Mastard, Spices, Washing and Baking Soda, Raisins, | Currants, &c., &e. ‘ The whole will be sold at the lewest prices for prompt payment, either at wholesale or retail H. HASZARD. isl Ch'town, Nov 26, 1866. Cheapside! New Goods! GREAT BARGAINS! HEARTZ & SON AVE JUST RECEIVED from Britain, per Ships Undine, LC. Qwen, Empress and | Lotus, a large aud assorted Stockh Staple & Fancy Dry Goods, Groceries, &t STAPLE DRY GOODS, consisting of || was like a madman when I found what I Printed Cottons; Grey and White Cottons; Red, White, and Blue Cotton Warp, warranted good ; Cotton and Liven Ticking; Towels and Toweling ; Bagying and Bags; Osnaburg, Canvass, &c , ccc. OLOTH, @ very large etock, in Manile —— LITERATURE, MICHAEL CONSIDINE’S DAUGHTER. ‘When will the trial be over, Mark ?’ ‘To-morrow, Woolcut sums up.’ * And the unhappy weman—bow handsome she is!—has no chance ?’ ‘Nota shadow. Considine has made her! case his stalking horse, and when he does that it is always a hanging matter. There’s no douht about her guilt; she was jealous, it) seems, and not only killed the man and the woman who had supplanted her, but intend- ed the world to accuse him both asa mur- \derer and suicide. Theexecutivn will be de- | layed until the child is born.” | ‘*Good heavens, how awful! born under | the shadow of the gallows!’ and Mrs. Pem- broke shuddered and drew closer to her hus- } band's side. Presently she put her comely | face up to his ear and whispered: -* The | Lord has denied us the crowning happiness | jot marriage! Could we not take this child, | | orphaned as it will be from its birth ?’ | *My love!’ exclaimed Mark Pembroke, | startled at her words | | *Yee. dear. I've never complained, you! | know. I've never told you how [ longed for a| baby, and—and— * and thenshe broke down | and began to ery. ‘Poor wife, poor childless wife!’ said | Mark, caressing ber, his own eyes filling with | | tears. * We would soon learn to love it, Mark, almost as if it had been truly born to us.’ So the woman pleaded, and, though mentally, Mark shook his head, he made no opposition ; and thus it was that Nelly Pembroke became the adopted child of the good people who} lavished such love and kindness upon her. Nineteen years had elapsed since that York | assize. Michael Considine was now on the) | bench, and everybody said the great morder | case had put him there. He and Mark | Pembroke had been boys together, fellow- | students, and now were warmer friends than | }ever ; yet even to him nota word concerning | the child’s parentage had ever been satu. Mark had answered the first enquiries by | Baying that be had many poor relations, and | that Nelly was an orphan; and he never had cause to exnlain further. Nelly grew up the light and delight of the | | year began, had returned from a finishing | school an accomplished and comeoutable young lady, pretty enough to wake a fair ex- | cuse for Mrs. Pembroke’s pride in her, and, | what was better still, as good in her heart as she was in looks. Nelly's birthday was to be celebrated by a | ball ; and as Neily liked smart dresses, danc- | eS wife, Mark, she will be merciful, for she is a mun has felt some time that smiles must as two hands were stretched out, as if to ward No, Mark, not PD EEE good woman. I'll go now. to-night; [ must get away by myself. 1'il come to-morrow, and bring ber some otber te rring, * thenk Heaven it wes in time,” . * * . * e * But Nelly will still be ours, said Mrs. Pem- broke, when the first astonishment with which she had heard the story passed off, snatching at one ray of comfort. * Undoubtedly. he cannot claim her without telling her the story, and that he could never do ; there his grief is our gain.’ ‘Ob, Mark. how thankful Lam. Itis very | wicked, [ dare say, to bw glad he cannot take her, pvor man. I used to think his heart was seared by his work, and yet all the time under the ive there lay such a romance as this. And wou, too, long as you’ve known him, never to guess.’ Mark smiled and patted his wife's cheek. *T was touhiappy and too busy to take account of my neighbor's affairs, and Considine was not one of those who talk of themselves Even from a boy he never spoke of anything connected with himself, When Nelly walks to you about this fancy of hers , * {tisno faney,’ mterrapted Mrs. Pembroke —‘she told me all about it just now.’ * Then so much the worse, aod more need to treat it asa fancy. Tell her you must have the ductor; nature, | koow, plays strange pranks at times, and the haunting horror of the condemned wowan has affected the unborn child.”’ Considine came early the next day, and Mrs. Pembroke very nearly began to ery out of eheer pity, when she met his saddened, weary look, for the man had been face to face with a greater Judge than himself, and the verdict had been * sruilty.’ ‘Thank you, my kind friend,’ said he, holding her hand, and reading in her face the unspoken words of 3ywpathy. * 1 can never hope to repay one tithe of my obligation to you or Mark ; we'll talk over what | can do |) another time ; now | mustonly stay a minute ; | but I could not rest; until | had seen her— | Write or telegraph to Mr. Brown, to get the just one look in her face.’ Nelly was in the supper-room up to her knees in flowers; she had almost forgotten the scene of the night before, and although household ; and now, just as her nineteenth | Something in Cons: dine’s face recalled it, the | tired of dancing and croquet. flowers and sunshine came between her and the pain of the memory. ‘I've brought you a birth-day offering, Nelly.’ left out the conventional Miss before her come to all. Nelly was young, and nature in a young. ‘untried heart, cannot Jock long at bright ‘and happiest there, ready to accept in | part the incense offered, and believe the world | that euch bright hours iv.ust also have stores of joy to come. was in bed, but not asleep; resting upon the arm rovnd which the brace- let was clasped. Nelly was thinking of the | ing the night had come in amongst the mirth off some blow, then clasped together again io agony. Two hours afterwards, Mrs. Pembroke was |gift,’ and gomg over to tie fire-place, he things without reflecting their light; eo be-;sitting by Nelly's bedside while the puor girl | dropped the little box into the flames, mut-, fore the night was over, Nelly was the gayest | lay moaning incessant!y. good! * Why did he tell me? Why did he tell } me?’ Poor Mrs. Pembroke had asked the sane | —_ ¥ ~— — ; . > me ee sed me; and called me namea; and wad» me ” sleep in the barn; and made me go without my supper; and—and —’ : ‘ That's eneugh, my son. And, now tell me why Peter Gooch has done this” ~ ‘ He has done it because—because—— * ‘Speak plainly, and be not afraid that I shall do.thee harm. Now tell me all.” Se The boy hesitated a while, and finally snid—* ‘Tuever meant to-do wrong—T always tried to question, and Considine had replied that do right,—but be woulda’t let ma. Sometimes f At last the guests were gone, all good | there was no alternative, the hour had come; would forget, and then he would abuse me. Then | nights said, the bouse dark and silent. Nelly and then he had gone away, not further than I would get angry and sulky, and*he and his wife | see the cnild again. | A few days passed over, Nelly was passive | grave, sad face that from time to time dur- dnd apparently better, so Mes. Pembroke | went over to the rectory, and, sitting there | giq jot deserve?’ the lad asked, quickly: and: , . a , her face was! the village inn, however, where he waited to would cuit me absnt. I couldn't be a dog, so : they made me ugly’ - ‘ They. succeeded in making you betray s- wicked spirit,” said the of@ man, La Gahiisty. m . ‘Would you tamely bow down to stripes you" * and music like a memory of some lost happi- 'lunger than she intended, the darkness of a with a flushed cheek. ness. She was thinking of what he had-said by the fireside before the others bad arr:ved, and so thinking she fell asleep, and was still sleeping when Mrs. Pembroke came in on | her way down stairs, and a tender, happy ismile was on the old lady’s face, ‘She's only a child yet Mark,’ she said, as she | poured out her’ husband's coffee. * You re- | member,bow she used to take her toys to bed nine-pins under her pillow ; well, she bas the bracelet on, poor little thing! and then how | [ used to vex myself whenever | saw a man | near her, thinking they wanted to rob us of | our Gariing!’ | Bat Mrs. Pembroke was wrong, as elderly | ladies very frequently are when they begin to account for the actions of mothers of the second generation. Poor Nelly bad said fare- well to her childhood. Mr. Considine had gone on circuit the day after the ball. much, let it be said, to Mark and Mrs, Pembroke’s relief, both these worthy people being secretly jealous of the unexpected claimant upon Nelly’s love, and exceedingly doubttul and perplexed as to the poseidility of keeping the secret. wife he thought Nelly looked pale. * She's fagged with all this gadding and heat, wife ; you must take her down to the farm. I'll ion home ready ; you and she can run duwn 'on Tuesday; Michael Considine and | will follow on Friday.’ Nelly was delighted, and owned herself The *old | home’ was the place of all others she liked ; best; a rambling farm-house, with an old- | fashioned garden, where there was a wilder- it was the first time be had ever | ness of flowers, blooming as no London flow- lera ever do blossom, filling the air with name. Nelly’s heart gave a little bound,| vetfume, and suffering themeelves to be and her eyes rose up to his with a shy look jgathered every day without any visible of wonder and expectation, her colour coming |} diminution in beauty or fragrance. The great wide porch was shaded with | with her, and how you found the new box o! About a fortnight after this, Mark told his | ing, and nice partners as much ae any girl of | and guing as he went on. ‘You know I am her aze. she was determined the ball should | such an Old friend that [¢luin a right to be a success, and working morning, noon and | &'¥@ you something pice, and to tell you how night arranging and decorating with her own | [ love and admire my Iittle friend. If uncle soft livtle hands, whose touch seemed to have | Mark grows tired wt you, I'll adopt you, and a magical influence in giving grace ‘and | bald eee lairy palace full of flowers and beanty. Upon the evening preceding the | Sunshine. re fete, Considine came home with Mark, and,| He tried to laugh as he spoke, and laid his hearing Nelly was in the dancing-room, went | "4nd upon the disorder'd locks of bright | Jessamine and noneysuckle, and the old walls | were clustered with monthly roses and vines , under the broad eaves a colony of swallows , were always twittering, always stirring about, ‘always ina hurry, and always a delight to | wateh. | “Beyond the garden Jay a green meadow, }atthe foot of which ran the mill stream, ‘there to give her a present he had brought. | When the door opened, Nelly, who was, Jumped down, pretending to be angry. ‘It is too bad, coming to iovk at things half done. Uncle Mark should——. What's) the matter, Mr. Considine—what is it?’ and with a scared face she looked round, for Mr. Considine had stopped, startied as she came up to him, and stood staring at her, or beyond her, with a pale, horrified face. Nelly saw nothing but the wreath hanging | against the white wall, and when she turned again, Considine was gone. ‘Why, what is the matter?’ cried Mrs. Pembroke, as he joined Mark ard hereell a minute after, *-You look as if you had seen a ghost?’ ‘So I have,’ was the unexpected reply ; ‘if ever a man did see such a thing, | saw one | just now. You remember that murder euse at the York assizes. Ever since then I've heen haunted by the * Shadow of the Galiows,’ and | saw it to-night.’ * What does he mean, aunty?’ whispered Nelly, who had followed him to the room. * Nothing, my pet ; nothing. * But | eee it, too, aunty ; a great, black, one-armed thing, lke that in picture books. I see it though it was only something io my eyes. Why does it haunt him, too?’ *My dear child!’ and Mrs. Pembroke looked helplessly as her husband. * Take her up stairs, Mery,’ cried Mark ; ‘ghe’s been exerting herself too much, and Considine forgets that a child should not hear such fancies. He is fond ef ghost | stories, Nelly, my pet, aod only wanted to | find out whether yoo were as great # goose as to believe in them. ‘There, off you go; the wreaths will keep until to-morrow Detter than that little excited head of yours will.’ When the door closed behind the girl, Mr. Considine began pacing the room. ‘You'll perhaps think me a madman, Mark,’ he said, ‘ but it is the honest truth | told you just now. Ever since the morning the woman washung, when | have been extra pressed with work, a shadow, just such as the gallows would throw im the early sun- light, has haunted me. I saw it just now in the dining-room, but | saw something more—tte girl Nelly. Who is she? Where did you find her? Is she really a relation? Or is she—my God! if it could be—is she the child I sentenced unborn ?" Considine had ran on with one question after another, warding off until at last the suspicion that had taken possession of him. One look at Mark was answer enough, and covering bis face with both hands, the strong map sat down shuddering and subbing like a hysterical woman. Mark came over to bim and Jaid bis hand upon his shoulder. ‘You have been overworking yourself, You must not let such——’ | * Good God, Mark, she ia my own child!” |groaned the other, hoarsely. And as Mr | Pembroke stood by, sileveed, and half in. clined to go for a doctor to ‘ minister to a mind diseased,’ Considine wert on: * It’s the lold story of sin finding the dver out; the ' woman foll in my way, she was wild with jealousy, and [ took advantage of it; sbe vame across the man who had driven hes wild, and you know the rest. Some avenging power pat me up a8 counsel for the crowp i was to do, and some mer are eloquent when mad; the woman was condemned by my words. I could have torn out my tongue; I could have fallen down and kissed your feet when you were pleading ;and when you spoke hair, amongst which some rose petals had | dmmed back to form the pond, a long, deep. fallen. Nelly at once took the case, stooped | Silent pool, draped with the largest willow Cloths, Pine Cloris, Whitneys, Beaver, Moscow, | 5¢ the unborn child, of the murder which the | Devous, weeds, Pilot, Lambskin, Astracan, Seal | law. if carried out, would do, the brand of turing the beat SQUAKE KOD TOK ACCO, trom | Cloths, Twoeds and Doeskina, which will be ool | Sain soemed on me, and J left the Court de- pure Virginia Leaf. and trusts, as the auperior | cheap for Cash. quality of the article is so well known. that he will DRESS GOODS, in French Merinos, | termined to move heaven and earth, to sacri- cowtinue to merit a share of pablic pelronage. al ORIN LOW DEN. Peake's Building, Queen Street. Jan 1, 1887. Feb’y 11. WANTED, po RENT. a CUITAGE or TENE- MENT, suitable for a snoull fami y, Possession wequired about the Istef APRIL uext. For par- ticulars apply to A. MeNEJLL. Readiny m Building, Charlottetown, Feb. 18, 1867. XMAS, REQUISITES. UNCH aed Layer RAISINS, CUR- ot Ban Series Pasete, sath Voom poaems round mice, Cora Search| ‘inn. Ca Sa ean pre ee dake: Olives, ce, Carrie Powder, A . Sari ines, : oy ue Sates $ Treacie, sone, Cocbinasl Washes el, bee ke ; ‘ ’ N. Wonka locas, wee. Stele AO ‘fice anything rather than go forth aed ou) Pembroke whis- | I : } perched upon a clair, fastening a wreath, | and kissed his hand, Mrs. pered something in her ear, and wth a bright blush the girl held up her face, say- ing _— ‘ Aunty says I'm to kiss you, sir.’ Considine started and caugat her in his arms, bidding God bless her; then, before Nelly knew what to say or think, the coor closed bebind him, andshe and her aunt were alone. *Poor man,’ said Mrs. Pembrokee, misun- derstanding Neily'’s flushed face ; ‘he had a daughter, and thinks you are like her ; you | must not think anything of his being a little | peculiar ; he forgets you are not a child.’ Tears sprang up into Nelly’s eyes —half- angry petulant tears. Why did he think her achild? She was nineteen, quite a woman, and—but here Nelly’s heart began to throb very fast, and strangely interrupted her | thoughts, nor had she tame to follow the} grievance op, for Mrs. Pembroke wae curious | to know what the judge's present wus. The’ case was seon opened, and Nelly's eyes were dazzled, fur Jying upon the deep blue velvet was a gorgeous diamond bracelet. Mr. Considine, who bad no idea what pre- sent to give to the young lady, had placed the matter in the hands of a jeweller, who, in turn, weighing the value of the gift by the greatness of the giver, had chosen ons worthy, us be truly said, of royalty ; and, though the price did seem rathergreat, Considine thought it was only ignorance eo his part, and would willingly bave given twice as much to see Nelly iook pleased. ‘It must be worth two hundred pounds, at least,’ said Mrs. Pembroke rather breathlessly, for ehe, too, had been dazzled, by the magnificence of the offering. ‘Two hundred pounds, auntie !—two hun- dred pounds for a present to poor little me!’ and Nelly bent down, pretending to examine the bracelets, but only to shake off the tears that had come again; not angry tears this time ; nor did she say anything more about him considering ber child. * Men do not buy braceleui worth two hundred pounds for ehil- dren, suid Miss Nelly to herself, Mrs. Pewbroke suuled at the girl’s bright | face, and watched her flashing the glittering | jewels about, thinking in ber beart what a| mercy it was that Nelly was still such a child, | and not, like other girls, faneying everybody | who liked or was kind to them must be in| love. | Nelly was dressed Jong before the guests | were expected, and in the first drawing-room | watching, if the truth were told, for Mr. | Considine, who, she thought, would be sure to come first. Whata pretty picture she} wade, as she stood there before a bright fire, | the candle-light flashing Jown upon the rip- pling goldeo hair, and making all sorts of | shadows in the misty, blue dress, which, | looped up wits white roses, floated round the | slight girlish figure. Coneidine saw it as he came through the | hall, for Nelly, determined to cateh him be- | fore be went further, had left the door open. ‘Oh! Mr. Considine,’ she cried, turning | round and holding out the arm bound rouno | with the gleaming bracelet, ‘how very kind of you! 1 never dreamt of having such a pre- sent in my life; only look how the light) seems to gather and flush. £ do believe they are bits of real sunlight petrified I can never thank you enough ;’ and Nelly looked up thinking that she had intended to give him another kiss; but instead of doing@e sbe | held down her face with blusbes. There was. something in his manner that thrilled uke an- electric shock through the girl's form—such | a yearning, pitying. loving gaze—and the | strong hand ia which hers lay folded grasped | | it until, but for the counter-excitements, she | gnly see it—you and [?° must have cried aloud with pain; but Nelly Serges, aud Faacy Dress Goods, equal to any mw the city. lars and Ties, the newest styles; also, the newest styles of Cloth and Fur Caps, and Felt Hats Boots, &e. SUNDRIES — Wool and Brusse!s Curpets, White. Scarlet, Blue, and Fincy Planuels ; Skirts aud Skirtings, Sear&, Gloves, Belts, Veivets, wing, Alexandra’Cords, Braids, &c., &e, good, Sugar, Molasses, Pepper, Dye Stuffs of all kinds. retail, at the HEAKTZ & SON. “Now. 12, 1066. Winceys, Coburgs, Lustres, Alexandra Cloths, | sourse with such guilt apon my soul. Crape, Feathers, Flowers, Gimp and Bagle Trim- GROCERIES & FRUIL -- Tes, warranted Ginger, Mustard, Ciera Raisins, Currants, Rice, Flour, &o. Also, u PP. 8.— bowe Stock has been personally hapkited ty df cert British Houses, and will by long suld wholesale aud swallest paring between | forgot the pain when she heard him say that’ how fate or Providence came licen L| the present was nething to the love with |me and my dosire, and how for months GENTS’ RBADY-MADE CLOTHING, in) was prostrate. Do you know, as lay under which he loved her; and then he called her Ovee and Under Coats, Panta, Vesta, Shirts, Col-| iage that day and felt the steam of | bis pet and child, asd Nelly's heart sank, for, ss inated engine saiine my bones, | saw | she rem »mbered what her aunt had said, and the gullows and heard her shrie« ; I heard that, afier all, he might not care for ber only her ery out your name and call God to bless because of the likeness.to his daughter, and al- you. E thought then I was dying, and that | most involuntarily the little hand stole ap to it was but the dire forstaste of the misery of | hie shoulder, Nelly's eyea ewimining ip death. When l wasable to make enquiry, | tears rose to his, and the sweet voice, tremu- 1 went back to York and was told the child) lous in its earnestness, said :—* You ara un- was still born; bat ¢-night a sudien fight bappy, Mr. Considine, and you have been 8) | fiaxhed upon me. God, whom | thoaght tery kind to we. & wish [ could do anything merciless, has not forgotten a He bas toplease you. I want to thank you. to show me almost a wiricle from, sin. ‘ ered ‘Nelly ee heart went out to her into a whisper, for dearer, ° ° ® | thin it as love that must make her my with & miserable little Gite: twiads t0-08 her to-night, and be. Nelly turned away to tempt at a smile, a : -you’ (the hand d and the voice sank |silent. You are killing me!" and unfasten- oa nite eo heard in the ing the clasping fiugers from his. Considine: ered ‘pall, ‘that t really am mot such child, but | sprang to his feet, and standing there before det; tantvene s qos Leonid ‘caly| that, Lean be wise sopetimes ;' and then, |her, told the story of her birthand bi sin. her first part in) never rightly knew. He saw only amass hold Uhave loetand wou her at ooge. Tell your the not of life—-te feel thit which every wo light muslin, trees in the country, in which lay the biggest trout, and along the banks of whichyrew a carpet of bright-eyed forget-me-nots; a lovely, quiet place was the mill-pool, the mill wheel, killed by distance, waking the silence by a soft, siumberous sound. A fuyvarite haunt of Nelly’s was the pool; she was there every day, generally towards evening, when the red lights from the setting sun were glitter- ing through the trees, throwing strongly- defined shadows upon the brown water, and the trout rose lazily to suck down the angus- picious files or moths, taking their evening meal, us it were, under protest. Nelly generally carried a book with her; but nature was just then the pleasanter book, and Nelly was no idle student. The mill stood at the head of the village street, and the village was one of those quaint clusters of buildings met with now and then where rail- ways are unknown. Houses with gables and overhanging windows, built half of wood, haif stone or brick, with a queer old aletouse and swinging sign, the hostess of which was wont to,boast that the business had descended from father to son for four hundreds years. which, being beyond the momory of the oldest inhabitant, was left undisputed. Nelly was known and loved everywhere. There was not a cottage where, at some time or other, she had not been the messenger of relief or comfort; for here, as in other villages, there wis the ususal round of sore throats, bad hands and rheumatics to cure, and Nelly was dispensing docter general — carrying about the univereal eures compounded by Mrs. Pembroke from an ancient receipt book belonging to the house ; thus the arrival of the * family’ was hailed with genuine delight, and for the first three days there was plenty to do in calling at the different cottages, visit- ing various haunts, and picking flowers to fill the endless jars which ornamented every chimney-pieee and window in the house. Upon Friday, Mark and Mr. Considine came down, and in the evening Nelly left the old people sitting after dinner and stole away to her favourite seat under the willows and there in a short time her reverie was broken in upon by Mr. Considine, who, sitting | down upon the green bank’ beside her, talked of the pleasant country, and the pleasure of being there and idle after the bustle and trouble of circuit, to say nothing of the noise and heat of London. Nelly listened aud answered. Then, as the shades of evening drew closer around them, and the red clouds were reflected like patches of blood in the clear water, the solemn influence of the hour fell upon them, and both were silent ; Nelly’s eves watching the changing cloud scene mirrored before her: Considine gazing upon the childlike face, and trying to read what was passing there. Suddenly he saw the eyes dilate, the colour flush ap, then depart. ing. leaving the face white with terror, and stooping forward she laid one hand upon his, pointin: to the water with the other. Fuol- lowing the direetion. he saw a dim shadow, a ghastly one-armed thing, the curse that had embittered so many years of a triumphant career His first thought was of Nelly, and the first impulse to shield her mind from the impression by accounting for the strange shadow by natural means; but in vain he looked round among the trees where the branches were interwoven thinly, but where there were no bare arms, Nelly’s eyes had followed his; and looked back iato his as he turned again. = ‘Ta that the shadow you said haunted | you? she asked. ‘Why do I see it, #0? Aunty says it is faney ; but if you see it and I see it, how cath ithe fancy? Way do we Considine did not answer. He kept his face turned awny, and Nel'y. after waiting, stooped forward. and lorxing into his cosin- tenance, saw the s t-drops headin ; brow and lip, and the age’y he dare not show her." The girl's face ebsnged instantly ; there was no blush of maiden shame, but a woman's strong leve snd anxiety, as she ssid passion- ately andditterly at last: ‘You are ill. You are unhappy. Why" will rou not let me share your pain? You thiak me a child. but you have taught me to- be a woman. What can T gay to make yor trust me?” Pe ‘Heaven have mercy on me! Nelly. bet How Nelly looked, what Nelly said, he; | summer evening had (allen betore she reached the village street. 'Mr. Considine, who had seen her set off and bad been watehing for her return, joined her and together they walked on, talking of | three country labourers were drinkirg their | ale and smoking their pipes at the door, a | woman servant from the house ran up from) the mill road) * Something has happened,’ gasped poor Mrs Pembroke, with that pre- | sentiment of evil which»eomes over us some- | times; ‘ run forward—TI cannot.’ ©Oh! ma’am, oh! sir,’ cried the woman. * Miss Nelly » then, unable to finish the sentenee, she dropped down upon her knees, | erying liysterically, and Considine, bidding the men stay. with Mrs. Pembroke, burried | forward to learn what had happened. pointed *o Mark kneeling and supporting a white figure have it seared deeper into his heart by the bitter words that broke in the first agony from pour Mark Pembreke. Passive ‘as a child, he stood aside as the crowd gathered and as the attempts to restore life were pro- ceeded with—attemp's which, by God's merey, were crowned with success, And |Mark was carrying the balf animate form into the house as'the doctor galloped up and | took the case, happily now a hopeful one, in hand. But when one danger was over, another was imminent. Brain fever followed the shock, and for hours and days the poor | girls ravings were harder to bear than. the | first trial. Day and night Mark and his wife watched, and day and night Considine sat in herroom. No one could move him; he iaughed in Mark’s face as the’ Jatter spoke of rest or | food. And then{they left him alone, for the | man’s remorse was even stronger than his love. At last a change came, and the opiates took effect. ‘If she awakens free from delirium, she will live,’ pronounced the doctor. ‘If not, death will be the mereiful alteruative to per- manent insanity.’ W ho can tell the agony of the watch kept depth of repeatence ef the conscience-stricken man leaning his white, unshaven face upon his hands, his eyes bloodshot, with wakefal nights, staring forward across the darkened room, watching tie pale face where life and death flickered to and fro! The mid-day sun had been shining when the sleep fell upon Nelly, and midnight had erept upon the watchers without any definite change. Mrs. Pembroke had laid her head upon her husbands shoulder, and exhaustion had brought sleep. A servant had stolen in and left a shaded lamp. The doctor had come and gone down stairs again to wait—lying down upon the drawing-room sofa to snatch an hour’s sleep. Ilour after hour went on, and the first red streak of day dawn was brightening in the east when Nelly opened her eyes and tarned her face toward the window, drawing up the bed clothes. The action was 80 quiet and natural that Mark, unable to bear the sus- pense, uttered ber name aloud. Nelly start- ed for a moment; a puzzled look was in her face : then the light came. ‘Oh! unele, how wicked I’ve been!’ she sobbed. ther?" In an instant Considine was kneeling at her side, his face buried in the counierpane, and his sobs shaking the bed * You'll forgive me,’’ she whispered, with the thin, weak hands on his head. ‘My darling! my darling,’ was all the stricken man could say. Nelly was safe now, and said nothing more about forgiveness. She read it in every word and look of Jove that soothed and tended her during the long weeks in which she was re- gaining strength, and in the thought and ten- derness with which they took her away from the old house without letting her see the fatal pool. Mr. Considine set the world’s curiosity and opinion at defiance, and owned Nelly as his daughter; and, strange to say, the world never discovered the seeret of her birth But, stranger still, Nelly had forgotten it. The fever had, as it were, wiped out the fatal that Considine had claimed her as his daugh- ter. The shadow of the gallows was gone. Nature had worked out her meed of punigh- ment; and mercy had fulfilled, * 1 will not be angry jorever.’ een Ce mtgenneenene MARTIN MAYBURY ; OR, THE BOY’S OATH OF VENGEAN’ A LIFE-LES-ON. ‘GET owT!’ The man who said ‘Get out’ steod upon the upper step of a fine house in a thriving town, and a terrible frown was upon his brow. He waa a merchant in a sunall way,—vor, what.is generally termed in the country—a ‘ store-keeper.’ He was well-to-do in the world; of middle age; aud quite proud. The person who waa thus peremptorily ordered by Peter Gooch to * get out* was a boy—a fair- haired, bright-eyed, intelligent-looking . boy, of fourteen years. His lip trembled as he stood upon the gravelled walk and gazed the man in the face, and a fiery glow suffused his handsome features. He held a small bundle io bis baad, which he clutehed with nervous force. ‘Ger out !’ repeated Mr. Gooch, $ I an going sit,” the boy said, prondly sand then sinking Aid voice to a low passionate tone, he added, * But let me telt you, sir; that I will yet liye to be revenged upon you! As sure as we both tive, and F have sense and reason left, I Witt aAVE VENGEANCE!" ‘ Get out!’ thundered: the man, making a de- ronstrative movement with his foot. The bédy Spok@ nat another-word, but turned quickly away, and was ere long beyond the bounds of the village. He walked on until b» On her homeward walk.) N ; but wi close to the inn, where | ( elly; bu ren clo ) | heavy and humiliating—throwgh a long, dark fe, a He | had not far to go in uncertainty, for by the | gate into the mill stood another servant. She | gave me to Peter Gooeh. Gooch his willed me * the green bank, and taere he saw | | spoke this, but added quickly," My fat He knew the truth now, and had no need to | A cloud crossed the deeply*farrowed featires of the aged wan, and his lips quivered. Fle bowed his head a moment, and when he looked up there’ was a bright drop upon the long, gray lashes * My son,” he said, with strong emotion, ‘T have deen obliged to bow to many a stripe—s siuply because [ could aot, or would not, bow when I was young" * But no one could bo-w to such stripes as have - heen put upon me,’ the boy returged, waraly; *[ wouldn't submit. T won't subwit. ° I tavesworg,’ he continued, growing mote ardent, “te”have revenge upon that proud man; abd revenge Til ‘What sort of revenge do you contempliitet” the worn traveller asked, in a quiet'tone. ‘I don’t know yet; but vengeance | wrong he has done me I will have, if Tin wait for years My father died long ago—T Gan hardly remember bom. My mother eare of me till I was ten. Then she died, and ‘thé téwh a* Drantard’s Brat’” The boy quivéréiadhe drunkard, sir; but I was not -to blame. “Ob! when Mr. Gooch ealled me that, and tor nothing, too, T have felt that [ eould kill him!’ Martin Maybury, for such was the boy's tiame, had not exaggerated at all. He had auffered much—more thag be could tell—from the ‘hands of the imperious, hard-hearted, passionate master he had served. He had borne it meekly at fitet, but he could not bear it meekly long; and when hie passions got the mastery of bis jada ao laid himself open to new trials. It was some time after Martino had ceased speaking ere the other replied; ‘bat finally he spoke, and tears again came te his eyes, aud bis voice was more tremulous than before :— A’ * Boy, you ure guing out friendiesa into the great world.’ : ; ; Yes, sir,’ was the answer, slowly and thought: ully. , 4 you hope to carve out for yourself a for- une!’ * I should like to, sir.’ * But, at least, you wish to find and peace.’ ~ ‘ Yes, sir,—I do.’ This was» quickly and earnestly. ‘Where is he—my father, my fa | explanation in every particular, save one. | ‘Then listen to me,’ the old man continued, with an expression of kindness which was not te be mistaken, ‘ard I will tell you the simple story of a life which may profit you. 1 was onee a bey like yourself, though now the frosts andsnows. of four-score winters are upoo. me. J the ht day of my youth was the desire of Re. VENGE. I had been wronged more. deeply thap.. you have been; and 1 was older than you | too ; a evens nave ful it i. as heeniy | Fowe: oO revenged, an . was ; | But—oh, God! revenged ae ‘nyect! Vasa myself, [ say. The moment 1 cherished a.getued enmity which looked tu revenge for ita re tion, that moment wy pesee ofmind left me—that — moment a demon entered my beart that robbed me of every joy. Once—I was in the chureb- yard—-a still, sinall voibe whispeerd * Fordive but I smothered it—I would not fisted. Had 1 listed then what years of agony And What weight” | of sorrows tight T have been speréd. ‘Bat tu— I would have vevenge—and I had it!” , The narrator stopped here abd bowed his head. A shudder passed quickly over ‘him, and, as if ayxious to shut out the sad memory as doon as possible, he immediately resumed . ‘My boy, for over sixty long years, not 4 day has passed that I have not wishéd-ch" ‘have earnestly, prayerfully wished=that Phad ister to that_yoivé In the ehurehyart.”*T ‘one | who had gives ine a home—T saws |, * But never mind. I can tellyou no more now. | You see an old mat now going back to his native village to ask those who are left of the kindred of ‘the man upon whom his vengeanée fell to forgive ‘him. Need I say more? ‘If you hold a thought of vengeance, let it be banished at ones. | Here the old man clasped bis thin hands ‘and raised them tewa~'s heaven, and with a sudden burst of energy he eried,— ; ‘Oh! Great God, spare him from the power of * the demon !’ Martin began to ery again, but it was only for —but, ab! that waa lon b in the little white draperied room, or ne of my own calling up Gees Se ae rig a few moments; and when bis eyes were dry he looked up and placed his band within that’ of bis companion. oo * Thank you,’ he said. , ‘Need I say more ?” ; ‘No, no.’ ‘ And you can forgive Peter Gooeh * Yes—I have forgiven bim.’ oY ‘Good. And now whither do you gor’ ‘To the city.’ * Have you any money?” ‘A little.’ And as the boy spoke be took out - an old leathetn purse and showed three hatfdeb ° lars and a few shillings ia swaller coin. ‘ ‘Is that all?’ : ‘All [ have in the world of money, sir.’ ‘Let me lend you some. [t is bat litth— | here’ The old man handed forth a halfeagle. Martin | hesitated at first, but he knew the value of money | at such a time and he finally took it. © .¥ | ‘Where shall I find you to pay this back!’ be ear you thd ll, it will be at Dayvilte* | ‘Tf you find me at all, it w at i * What, the place I am leaving!’ * Yes.’ ‘ And yore name?’ ‘ Adaw Blake.’ Martin had a faint recotleetion of having hearé .|soch a nawe, but be could not eall it clearly te inind. And they separated. One said, ‘ Blese you, sir!’ And the other said, *God guard ané beep you! And when Martin Maybury haé walked esbort distance he stopped and clasped his hands. * Peter Gooch,’ he eried, ‘I have forgives you, and yet I hope te be rewenged !’ When Martia reached the eity he had resolved to perform any honorable dabor fer which be (could obtain pay. On the seeond day of bis stop | in the great town he called ata provision store. _ The owner liked his appearanee, and having hearé his story, hired him to carry baskets, and | perform errands generally. A son of the dealer, | who had been doing this work, wentwith Martine week to faniliarze bim swith the way over theeity. Iu a litthe whee Martin Maybary was bappy contented, and every night, when he said"tbe bis mother hed tangbt nia, did be dies a leeson of life which had already proweditewalue. In times passed be had allowed every little ‘to rankle’in his bosem, and be knew they had | made him miserable. But now he such | things by with a stern resalve not to be offended | or angry, and be was not long in discovering bew much his peace and joy were enhauced. Years sped ov. Frou wfaithful, diligent errand _ bey, Martin rose to be a faithful assistant. . At the had reached a sail valley, out’ of sight of aay | ave of eighteen he visited some distant relatives human habitation, and bere he satdown upon a stone by the road side. Thue far be bad borne | at the cheapness up without a quiver, even; but bis heart brike | pared with the prices in the di down now, aud resting-his brow wpon-bis little }turned apd tald hve nu * bandie, be. began to erp. He bad not sat long: purcliase enough of apples and stall vessel, and also put yto it all. eggs b ta find. pei) a ane would take it fo a river, where eal ry it to the vessel, , : © . ° thus. when. he realized that some one had taken Aaseat beside him. He tooked up and saw a white-haired. old man—a man covered with the dust of travel, and whose wet brow and labored breathing told that he was worn and weary. “Why do yeu weepthus, mv child ? the old The bey pondered a moment, and then answer- ‘Because 1 bave bean abused, sin® and heard « low ery of agony e+ B eehy Ouse § ‘Abused? And who has done this?’, vesse! ‘Peter Gooch did it, sir. He has abused me a | to city ae ars, ‘a* Martis ee long while,” vt "| hoop VOhadt Wand Kasai ‘ Peter Gooch 2° Who is he ?’ sanguine piste chu wee Et les eee ‘He keeps a store in the village.” to Nid as with and enterpri e * What village ?” ed upon ‘itt and to “his aid he hs eee i * The one just over the bill here—Dayville,” | querable resolution to do kind Waverge $4 has be abused you, my child 1’ bodg and bis own ae o ‘ pF at He has “whe; and cur. . ie ‘ant eee aes: , : — a tow be * : bive , tee ¢ | io the country. While there be wasastonished t white-haired old man who bad given to hinge . be soipe ki Fro U , np dep ip pours The plau was well studied, : nally sent off to do the wor ith the aader de 5 man asked, in a weak, tremulous tone, ing that he should bave ha ‘prohis. In due tiny our berd artis a a ser ee prey