HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Expositor, 1877-01-19, Page 3-
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tHE *HURON EXPOSIT
OR.
leT LAST.
"Oh, my dear,I. don't dare!" was
the response. ,sra like to! Yes, -ra
like to. But 1 neveiehould hoer the
last of it from your Sitster Waite. And
your father said, Achea, your Sister
Waite said, they were keeping you out
of harm's way. They never told me all
this,—how was I to know it had gone
on ever since you were babies? And 1
thought they knew beet--"
"How can it be harm's way, you see, •
when Earl and I have loved each- other
all our lives?" she gasped. "Oh, don't
let Sister Waite have her way; don't
let her stand between me and the only
happiness there ie 1"
Aunt ikoodenough began to cry. "I
shall tell your father it was a great mis-
take," she said, as if, so far as thiit
would help Achsa, she was quite wel-
come. "And I shall tell your Sutler
Waite whiter think of her—a meddle-
some, domineering— but there!
passed my word, Achsa, I passed my
word." Achsa's sobs were the only
sound in the little room. "I'll tell- you
what," said the relenting Aunt Good-
enough, "1 can't giye you the money, on
account of my promise, you aece; but 1,11
tell you where k keep my money, and .if
you choose to go and take a gold piece,
why, 1 sha'n't sue you for a thief ! Only
1 expect you to return Afterwards, and
stay with me till the ship comes in
again. Yoe may as well always stay
here when he's off on his voyages, ' said
Aunt Goodenough, coaxingly. "You
are so like my Achsa!"
Achea kissed the kind hand that had
fallen down listlessly as the dew gathered
freshly in Aunt Goodenough's eyes, -tbat
now were looking far away. But she
*as going to steal no money. She went
to bed that night with the birds, and at
three o'clock in the morning she was ‘up
and on her feet,—on her feet, and on,
her homeward way to the little port,
feeling it quite safe so near as that to
• niorning and the early farm -house stir.
The night passed; star after star of
all the wide mist of starsevanished in the
gray ; the gray melted into the flames of
dawn; the sun rose; the gladly impu-
dent chorus of the appy birds ceased;
• the business of the day had begun, and
• she still went tradging on. Now and
• then, as the morning advanced, she rest-
ed, but, tired as she was, sprang to her
impatient feet again with the stinging
• thought of Earl ; now and then she had
a lift of a mile or two; but she walked
the greater part of the day. Her feet
were blistered, but still she limped on;
the last part of the way, though, she had
a longer lift than the others had been in
a wagon belonging to a party who were
camping out upon the beach,—the drivers
thought they had. picked up a queer little
body, with her silence, her eager haste,
and, once in a while, her gush of tears
as she saw the sun westering, and felt
the evening wind rising and blowing in
her face; and at last they set her down,
as she directed, at her father's gate.
She clicl not go in; she ran along the
shore to the wharves, which were on the
other side of the point of land a half
mile away • ran, as well as she could, to
the one where the Bonnibel was moored
when in her place. The spot was
empty,—just 'dipping down the distant
sea a sail Was glimmering. "Is it the
Bonnibe4 you are looking at ?" a sailor.,
lounging against the capstain, asked.
"There he goes, now. , She's had a fine
start—there's always a wind for her
sails ; she's a lucky one, the Bonnibel !"
They wrote to Aunt Goodenough to
know if Achsa was with her; they were
not absolutely sure that they had seen
her at home, only an angry apparition,
a fierce and angry little apparition that
had glared upon them one instant in si-
lence, and then had vanished—a little
• foot -sore, heart -sore phantom of Achsa!
But Aunt Goodenough wrote back that
Achsa was with her, and neither of them
ever said a word about the escapade;
and there Achsa staid till she grew so
pale, and thin, and tired, that. her re-
luctant aunt sent for them to take her
home if they wanted her alive.
So, when the Bonnibel came in next
year, Achsa was at home. She knew'
the ship was signalled 1, she knew it was
making fast; she had , watched for it
with a fever in her faee ; and now she
waited, sitting at the little woodbined
window, under which the great white
day -lilies blossomed and blew out their
sweetness. She waited a long while;
• Earl Warwick did not come. e Was he
wrathful with her silent absence the
year before? Could he really have
• doubted her, her love, her faith, her sin-
cerity? He'd he tired of her? Had he
•changed ? Had he brooded over his ap-
parent wrong during all the long voyages
out and back, till he came to hate her?
She waited, and watched, and wondered,
and wearied—heart-broken at last. She
•dared not send or write, for fear lest
with larger experience, he had ceased to
•eare for her; mill her pride was as 'much
as her modesty. And one day she was
• ill, and the doctor came, and a wasting
*fever shut her away from Ea.r1 as ef-
fectually as Aunt Goodenough's farm
had done.
• The Bonribel sailed again, and another
year dragged along ; and Achsa dragged.
herself through all its endless days and
nights; just a spark of hope was left
alive in her breast, to keep her alive
with it. She felt that Earl, ignorant of
facts, had a right to his indignation • she
trusted that when he came she should
have the chalice to set it right. Pride
-
should not stand between them any
longer. She hadn't any pride, the poor
little spiritless thing ; she longed to see
'him, to look in his eyes, to be held in
• his arms again, as he held her once, that
single instant under the apple trees,
longed till the longing was an agony with
which she waked. ancl walked at night.
She spoke of him to no one at home,
for they had played her false, and chuld
have no sympathy with anything she
wished. •
And that year the lucky Bonnibel lost
her luck and was cast away, and it was
three winters before Earl, taken off the
wreck by a whaler bound for the South
• Pacific, came home again. But home he,
•came • at lael. One Sanday morning,
when they were all in church, one sweet
Sunday morning, full of sun -shine and.
the breath of the sweet -briar, and when
the air was so still that you heard the
hum of bees like a remembrance of the
• long bell -notes swimming on the ear, the
barque to which he had been transferred
.dropped anchor in the harbor, and he,
• with others, came ashore. They were
ever could have. felt that mad whirl Of
love and rage which he suffered, when, he
earns home from his -.first voyage and
found her ,gone, for : such a worn and
faded thing leet she ; tfor Acheit's bloom
Was lost, terface wale thin, Rhe wore a
look of pain—that attracted no lovers.
'If the anger had not still burned within
him, that wofn and fsded look would
have touched his heart to a yearning
tenderness; but it did burn. Yet her
voioe was as clear as ever. He shut his
eyes and listened, as she sang, to the
delicious notes of the old-fashioned
hymn, with all it rises and falls and
tunefulichanges
"Come, my beloved, haste away 1
' Make short the houra of thy delay 1
Fly, like a youthful hart or roe.
Over the hills where spicee grow 1'
He heard the tremor that shook the
voice, as suddenly the singer saw him as
one risen from the dead; and then the
music seemed to flutter, the voice ceased,
and the chorister and old Nicholas came
bringing her down in their acme ; Abby
Morse, who sang counter in those days,
following With palm -leaf and salts be-
hind. Achsa had feinted, and as they
bore her past him standing in the porch,
Abby Morse giving him a swift, indig-
nant look, he saw her white and pinched,
the bright smile fled; and he felt as
though they were just carrying out to
the grave some one who had 'died for
him long, long ago.
• He married. Mr. Jerson's daughter- a
couple of months afterwards, and when
he sailed again,—for they could not hin-
der that, and had to favor it,—he was
the mate of one of the vessels in whieh
Mr. Jerson was interested, and presently
he was master, and, for all that could
be seen, the world was going well -with
him. •
AO Achsa went irito the country,—
she had not thought she would come to
that, but now it seemed a refuge,—went
there to spend the rest of her days with
her Aunt Goodenough—dull days and
dismal, with nothing to expect or hope;
her father dead • her mother at Sister
Waite's,—Sister 'Waite sharing the fate
of many better things, of things that, at
any rate, have once been sweet, and
growing sourer as she.grew
the friends of her youth forgetting her;
with the impossibility of abandoning
herself to anything sufficiently to at-
tract new friends, or to think ,much of
them, if by chance they were attracted.;
with but few poorer tlaan herself in the
wide -spread country parish to enlist her
sympathies; with nothing but Aunt
Goodenough and her ailments to care
for, the minister and thesewing-circle to
divert her, the hatching of the chickens,
the shearing of the lambs, the warping
of the loom, to be intereSted in.
She did her pest. She waited on
Aunt Goodenough by inches. She read.
to her the Sunday papers and volume af-
tervolume of church history, and pol-
emics, 'and biographies of preternatural
little saints, that the sweet old. soul
thought it right to have read, though
she always went to sleep with the read-
ing; she chatted with her about such 1
flavorless gossip as there was; sang her
off into dreams at evening in her chair,
picked up her stitches, threaded her
needles, kept the house in order,
made pickles, preserve, ketchups,
the currant and elderberry wines,
distilled extracts tied up herbs, and
• nursed Aunt Goodenough when her long
winter illness came. Sometimes in sum-
mer she went into the fields and picked
the sweet wood-strawberriea ; sometimes
she joined the cow -boy when he drove
the cattle home ; sometimes ehe took so
wild an excursion as to go and sit in the
_woods, and let the silence steal about
her like a new -sense ; sometimes in win-
ter she slipped out in a soft snow -storm
on the early edge of the evening, and.
walked a mile, thinking of storms upon
the sea, and Ships whose sails were
sheathed, whose ropes were stiff with
ice. Thus one year followed , another,
I too much alike to be reinembered sepa-
rately. And !the ewes happy—in a
dreary sort of evay ; thatis, she was not
• altogether unhappy.
Marvels came into her life too— the
mills did awaeewith her spinning -wheel
and her loom, and when she went down
to see them, as, she did. with the doctor
- who was going that way, her Aunt
Goodenough would. not believe a word
she told her, and advised ai dose of thor-
oughwort tolclear her head; and, thbugh
Achse took by stealth her little ride on
the railroad that bad stretched its wicked
web over a goodly piece of Aunt Good-
enough's farm, yet Aunt Goodenough
never could be tempted to follow her ex-
ample, and always maintained, when she
saw the engine come snorting,
and puffing, and shrieking along,
that it was - the old serpent in per-
son. The old serpent had, somehow, a
hue week followed week; week fol.
4c1 ed week and year followed year.
Te years paesed, twenty years„ thirty
yOars. Fo-rty years passed., and Aches
-
was Sixty years old and over; was
sixty-two when her Aunt Goodenough
:died at ninety. Sitting in her straiglat
chair in the chimney -corner, her aunt
had called Achim to her one night, and,
as she kneeled at her side, had turned
her face to the fire and peered into it
curiously. "Are you really my Admit ?"
she said. "I thought she was a rosy -
faced young girl. -No indeed, you are
net my Achsa at all—what could have
made me think*. so? You • are only an
old woman !" And Achsa felt in her
shaking, aching heart that she was no
longer anything to anybody! 'She was
no longer anything to Aunt 0-oodenough
—for the • kiwi soul passed away that
night in her sleep, and left poor Achim
doubly desolate.
Yet, on the whole, Achaa's life, after
the shock of its youth, had beena gentle
one, without work, or exposure,or want;
only the one want written in her face.
That face was but -slightly wrinkled—a
sweet face still; the ' shadowy hair,
though so thin it needed its bit of shel;
tering muslin, had scarcely changed
color yet, and. the eyes, though sunken,
were soft and clear ; yet no one would
have supposed her a day younger than
she was, only all would have thought
her age was something very lovely. '
Her Aunt Goodenough had left her
her property, and perhapait was in view
of that fact that, wheu everything was
settled and the sting of death a little
• Soothed her Sister Waite had invited
heir to her native place, where, since her
other's burial, she had not set her foot.
ut Achsa had kindly declined the in-
vitation; she was full of longing to see
the place, but not through Sister Waite's
glasses • and with her heart beating up
els wildly as a girl's, she went to a house
where she found she could be_ sheltered -
ile she noted the changes
on the ever changeless
was sore- every moment
thought she had outlived
all. her yontlif 1 enthusiasms and follies;
but the color of the sunrise tide, the'
rainbows in the foam, the sails far out
against the sky, all filled her with the
old pain of her yeuth, and she wished
she had not come, and resolved to go
away. Yet the fascination of the place
was fateful; and while she staid she
could not keep her footsteps from the
each.
• She was sitting there one evening be -
ore sunset, at the close of her first week,
-writing with her sunshade's point in the
sand, when a hand stretched before her
and took the sunshade away and been
to write, e and then threw it clown im-
fatiently.
Aches? I bought
long ago, and -there
gether'for the red of
lilies are blooming u
window yd.", '
Young Toni Waite, just home in the
long vacation of his second college.year;
met them comiug from the minister's
that night ; they stopped and told him
what had haoppenede—and he bent and
kissed hie aunt's face where a white,
blear light was beaming, as if shed from
a hal,ce and the tear e were in his eyes as
he 0 -might Of al1.14se long years, and
thought of a little girl he had. left a mo-
ment since, "Sympathy and love and
peace," he said to himself sentimentally,
as he walked alongel---Tom was a sopho-
more ab Bowdoin,
good at sixty as at
next day, ih tellin
having waited till a
might have the sec
to enjo by hersel
our father's house
e can go bank to -
our livele—the day -
der the woodhined
for a month,
every where be
BCS. Heir hear
of her stay ; s
"It's a long time Achsa, since you
and 1 -were on this beach together" said
e. voice that sent a shiver thrilling
through her; and she knew, before she
turned and looked, that it was Earl,—
knew it after that long, aching look,
though the face was weatherbeaten and
the hair was gray.
"A long time, Earl,"'she said in trem-
bling tones. .
"And you have never married,I hear,"
he said.
"Oh, no 1" she answered, drawing in
her breath with an unconscious sigh.
"And I am all alone again," he said.
Then she rose, and they walked quiet-
ly home together saying little, saying lit-
tle, as if there were a possibility yet of
saying too much, talking only of the
commonplaces of their lives, as though
there were no past between .them. 'I
never supposed that 1 could speak with
Earl Warwick again and be so calm,"
she thought that night. "The tides are
UAL gone out l" And ehe fell on her
"they are just int
wenty !" And the
the news at home,
ternoon, that Achim
et of her happiness
a single day: "1
never,' said young =Tom, "I never saw
anything lo beauti
.
ness with which the
right after Fate had
ul as the thankful -
y were taking their
kept them out of it
so long! You mayi laugh, if you want
to, Aunt. Amelia, at their age, and all
that, butto me it was a sight as lovely •
and as pathetic as *hen you see the old
moon in the young oon's arms 1"
Thomas Carlyle.
His 116111,e--.11is Opinion of _Darwinism
From. an AM.erican Paper.
The intimacy of the Rev. Dr. Mil-
acher, with Thomas
greater than any
s ever enjoyed; for
, Carlyle is not over -
burn, the blind pr
Carlyle is probabl
otlser American h
you', know, as a rill
partial to Americaes. Not that he ob-
.
jects to be "writ en about"—that he
likes, if the mind tat sees him sees him
fairly, but he has ncountered a few in-
tolerable bores witle no "sight involviug
the sense of insight," and he remembers
them! The old an, now in his Eilat
year, receives his visitors in hid drawing -
room, second floo
house where he
coming to London,
Chelsea, near the f
ed ley Nell Gwyn
where Sir Thoma
front, in the little
as dwelt ever since
No. 5 Cheyne Row,
mous hospital found -
e, and not far from
More lived—Henry
the' Eighth's great chancellor. The
street is old and dingy and unattractive,
but it is close to the Thames and to
magnificent bridge, and to the most
charming views fr m :every side. Mi.
Ca,elyk's house is
pretentious on th
manifold charm wi
sun etreams in th-ough throe small wih-
dows in the drawi g -room. The patri-
arch, sittink in a apacious arm -chair in
front of the firepla e and a glowing fire,
for London is in -fog and the day is
cool. There are b ok shelves on either
side of the firepla e. On the shelves I
notice a complete et of Ruskin's works;
Emerson's and so e others of our Am-
ericans holding conspicuous rank
r Emerson to Carlyle.
erson's clear cut sen-
- to find a volume; ih
d a sentence in • a
ecause be is so close
their sense- of sight
a ray too strong.
y feeble, through age,
that his memory is still marvellous, and
the flow of his talk—doubtless the most
eloquent of the ag —is unabated. Take
this as a sample :
mall, plain and un -
outside, but full ef
hin. The afternoou
11
among them. I h ar a few English per-
sons say they pref
In every one of E
tences they profes
Carlyle's they fi
volume. This is
to them it blinds
and perception;
Carlyle is not ve
"About thirty
published here c•
1876
years ago a book was
lled the "Vestiges of
Creation.' It ran quietly through five
editions. Men reed it with bated breath
in 'silence, and marvelled at its audacity.
It was like a pinch of snuff, and now
knees beside her bed and cried as we whole wagon load of it are thrown down
think only the young can cry. in; the public hi hways, and atheistic
But the next evening she• was on the sneezing has bec me the fashion. So -
beach again, when Earl Warwick came called literary a d Scientific classes in
to meet her. "I am an old fool," she England now proidly give themselves to
the
WILLIAM HILL,
smA_VoIR•zii-x_
said to herself, but for al that she went protoplasm, °ripe of species, and the
forward. He gave her his arm, for he like, to prove tha God did not build the
was the stronger still, and they strolled universe. I ha v known three genera -
along, once id a while speaking of their
far remote childhood, but not of the
years between, as they watched the red
August sun go clewn.
"Our aun is sinkingalmost-as swiftly,"
he said.
"But it has shone brightly for you, I
hope," she answered.
"Not so !" he.said with a sudden •bit-
terness, very different from the idle tone
in which he had been speaking. "Luck
forsook me when you did, Achsa.
lost ship after ship; my home was a
misery ; I arn old, as you see me, before
my time ; and though now that I have
done with it the sea fills the with horror,
I cannot keep away from its shores 1"
"You are not old, Earl," she said.
great deal to do with the innocent crea,- To her he wore an ever -enduring youth,
ture. The power did not exist that
could persuade her to use a friction
match ; •she felt its briaastone-lipped end.
to be a part of the machinery Of the in-
fernal fires; and when she heard of gas,
—this turning a stopcock, and flame
leaping out of the wall,—and when she
heard of the telegraph wire, she declared
the • thousand years of Satan had ex-
pired, and he was loose upon the earth.
Of coureie they could work wonder
who couldn't ?—with hell -fire, said
good lady ; and as Achsa read the
pers with the burden of weekly inc
ing achievement, and weekly increa
crime, she half believed what her
said.
As the years went on, and when her
mother had died, she attached herself
closer to her aunt; she dared not think
ut-
ve.
was
the
as
the
pa-
eas-
ing
unt
of losing her, it would leave her So
terly alone—it was all she had to 1
Yet often, when Aunt Goodenough
asleep, and the wind was rising or
rain falling she would remember i
she used to hear it in her little room at
home whet° the rain fell on the iroof,
would. remember the rising wind d,'own
where it met the waves and lashed them
on the shore; and then life eeemed a
desert that she could not cross; she won-
dered why she had been born, the world
was so full of misery she wondered ,-vhy
anyone was born, and then she cried a,
little, .aimle,ssly, and without positively
conscious cause, but in a low-spirited
way to keep company with the ram and,
the leaden sky that was like her gray
,. •
and leaden life. At such times, if it
wereenorning, there appeared no reason
why she should rise, and all day. she
longed for forgetfulness, and she said to
herself she had better be dead than alive.
But the mood wohld pass, and the eolorr
less content would come again ; and
full of sailors' frolic over home and sometimes there was a new missiona
liberty; and just as they were they
sauntered into the porch of the little
•chereh, and loeked at the congregation
and lietened to the music, and- perhaps
-
Earl Warwick lOoked at Achsa,—they
,could see the singers from that porch,—
• ' and he may have wondered bow he
field open, for which she could sew, or
knit en4llees etocleings, in her old aunt'S
, name ;and Wore were the endless evening
prayer-meetinge,and there were visits, Ili
his school vacations, from her young
grand -nephew, young tom Waite, o
whom she was getting fond.
and she seemed to see the lover of her
girlhood under this sad meek.
"An old hulk thrown on the sand!
Luck forsook me when you•did, Achsa,"
he repeeted. ,
"I never forsook you, Earl," she said
sorrowfully: And speaking, she drew
from her breast the little cord she al-
ways wore, and he saw suspended on it
the plain geld. ring that once he gave
her, and that had rubbed itself thin
against her heart.
He took it and looked. at it question-
ingly; and as he looked Achsa told him.
in a dozen words the truth she had
never had the chance to speak before.
"We ha-ve been cheated out of forty
years of happiness," he ,said. "Chit of
home and children and blessed memories.
Achsa—is it too late to take what we
may have before us yet ?"
She hesitated—not with the •reniotest
idea that folks might laugh at her; or
call her foolish names ; but because, even
now in his gray hair, he looked so
young and strong to her, it seemed too
selfish to let him waste himself on one so
old as she. And yet,—to pick up the,
dropped thread and weave some bright
new lines into the fabric of her life be-
fore the sensea dull ; to be together for
a score of yearis, perhaps, still; to have
him and happiness once more; to have
him to lOve, to comfort, to 'worship, to
warm her empty heart; to have the
blessing of caring for and solacing his
old age! And who in the world was
there she love& so well, so well as Earl,
after all -these pitiful years?
Is there ever a time when the cherished
dream loses its charm? Are we ever so
old that we cannot enjoy possession of
the long -deferred boon? Before ehe
dared lookup, ha had slipped the ring
upon her finger,, and they were sitting
side by ,side and hand in hand upon the
beach, and: the future eeeined to stretch
beyond', them like the lane of moonlight
upon the water, a path , of .glory into
heaven. •
. "We are so old, we have lost so much,
we need not wait another day," said
Earl. "Will you marry me at once,
tons of the Darwins, • grandfather,
father and son ; atheists all. The
brother of the present famous naturalist,
a quiet man who Ilives not far from here,
told me that aiIong his grandfather's
effects he foundIa seal engraven with
this legend—'0en ta ex coneks ;' every-
thing from a el m shell! I saw the
naturalist not many months ago; told
him that I had rad his 'Origin of the
Species' and oth r books; that he had
by no means sat' fled me that men were
descended from ipoukeys, but had gone
fir toward persu4ding me that he and
his so-called s eentific brethren. had
brought the presOnt generation of Eng-
lishmen very neer to monkeys. , A good
sort of man is this 1)arwin, and well-
meaning, but with very little intellect.
Ah, it's a sad aid terrible thing to see
nigh a whole g neration of men and
women professin to be cultivated, look-
ing around in a purblind fashion, and
finding no God iiji this universe. I sup-
pose it is a reaction from the, reign of
cant and hollow pretence, professing to
believe what inact they do not believe.
1
And this is wha1
we have got to. All
things from fro spawn; the gospei of
dirt the order of 1 the day. The older I
grow—and I nos3r stand. upon the brink
of eternity—the more comes back to me'
the sentence in he catechism, which I
learned when a dhild, and the fuller end
deeper its meaning becomes—'What is
the great end of man?' 'To glorify God,
and to enjoy Him forever.' No gospel
of dirt, teaching that men have descend-
ed from frogs through monkeys can ever
set that aside."
CHANGE OF
JA.NtIA,IiY 19 187.
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HARPER'S BAZA.B, le altogether the best thing
publiehed. To take it is a matter of economy.
No lady can afford to be without it, for the infor-
mation it gives will (save her vans. lunch move
househeld an interesting literary' visitor.---Obi-
tchaagnth
o Journal.- suurnalbc
.oription price, oesidee giving the
.ti ARPER'S BAZAR ie profusely ilitestrited,
and contains stories, poems, sketches, and esssys
of a most attraetive character. * * * Irt its
literary and artistie features, the BAZAR is un-
questionably the best journal of its kind in the
country.—Saturday Evening Ciazette, Boston. ,
TB B, Di S .
POStage FREE to all Subscribers in the
United States.
,
BUSINESS 83 An extra copy ot either the MAGAZINE',
WEEKLY, and BAZAR, to one address for one
, year, $10; or , two of Harper's Periodicals, to 000
' addrese for one year,$7—postage free. -
Stibscrijotions to HARPEIVS MAGAZINE,
- HA EPEE'S BAZA.B, one year....$4 -00
0
WEEKLY, or BAZAR, will be supplied gratis tor
• every club of five subscribers at $4 each, in one
remittance ; or, Six Copies for, $20, without ex-
tra copy; postage free.
Back Numbers can be supplied at any time.
nem I
desire
to return my hearty thanks to The Volumes of the BAZAR commence -wIth.
nitb l
. himesnoeredewir.th the number next after the receipt of
The Aluanal Volumes of HARPER'S BAZAR,
teohfiejays tt year. When_.no time is mentioned, it -will be
understood that the subscriber -wishes to cera -
Dense of purchs,ser.
free of expense, for $7 •eseh. A complete Set,
in neat cloth binding, will be sent by express, •
at the rate of $5. 25 per volume, freight at ex -
comprising Nine Volumes, sent on receipt of cash
Cloth Cases for each volume, suitable for bind-
ing, will be sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of
Indexes to eaebvoluxue sent gratis 011 receipt
N anneuneine ahe followi ange of bus -
y friends and the public generally for
- Newspapers are not copy this advertisement
without the express Older of Harper (it Brothers.
Address HARPER & BROTHERS,
NEW YORK.
THE VERY LIBERAL SUPPORT
accorded me daring more than eleven years active
trade, and more especially in sustaining a then
NEW FEATURE
in Business in this place:
"THE ONE PRICE SYSTEM."
The business in future will be conducted under
the name and style of WM. HILL & Co.
WILLIAM HILL,
One Door North of the Post Office„
1877. JANUARY FIRST. 077.
Theo ore Again.
Mr. Theodore Tilton, whoee name is
somewhat famili s to the American pub-
lic lectured ini Halifax, on December
22. "What- lady," said he, "dares to
dress better than the fashion? It has
been said that ai English lord dared not
appear in .pub1i4 except in the regula-
tion hat. A P me Minister lost caste
because he had iiade the mistake of hav-
ing a maid ser ant to open the door in-
stead of a man. John Thomas rules the
British Empire, as Mrs. Grundy rules
the • American Republic." • About this
time a bride in the -gallery gave vent to
his patriotism by shouting, "What
about Elizabeth ?" "Sir," responded
Mr. Tilton, "don't indult the memory
Of a Sorrowing woman." ,"Put him
!" rohred th audience, and the brute
evas ejected byl a policeman. Then, the
lecturer then said: "I .airt a stranger
emong you; as 1 said before—an Amen-
]
can, while you re Canadians—but I say
to you, as God is may witness, that I
would not have uttered another word on
this platform.if that man had.not been
Put out." All Of which is Mere or less
edifying, itud sOvett to renlind the pub-
lic of certain little matters which it was
in danger of forgetting.
WILLIAM HILL & 00.,
IN presenting their 'Circular would announce
that they are determined to
GREATLY INCREASE
The already Large Mignon which they have
assumed, and to aid this they have adopted
THE fOLLOWINC PRINCIPLES:
MARKING GQODS AT THE LOW-
EST POSSIBLE PRICES.
DOING BUSINESS STiI1CTLY FOR
CASH OR ITS EQUIVALENT.
THE SEAFORTH DRAY AND
STAGE BUS'INESS,
To The People of Seaforth.
TOHN CAMPBELL begs to returnthanks to the
tr Merchants and Business men of Seaforth for
the liberal patronage awarded him sincehe asstim-
ed control of the Draying Business of Seaforth.
He would alio state that he is now better prepar-
ed than ever to attend to the wants of his custom-
ers having placed another team in thesservice.
Goods by rail delivered promptly. House Fatuit-
ure removed carefully and on reasonable terms.
Gardens plowed, and all other chores in this Inc
attended to on t1iesboitest notice. Promptitude,
-
Civility, and moderate charges are the cardinal
principles which he observes in his business.
To the Traveling Public.
The old Royal Mali' Stage still alive and flour-
ishing. Parties requiring to travel between Sett -
forth and Brussels Will find the lk-TAre STAGE Ow
safeet and most comfortable. The tiriverS are
careful and sober, the horses fast and reliable and
the coaches warm and comfortable. JOHN CAMP-
BELL, Proprietor. • 441
MAKING ONE PRICE TO EVERY
CUSTOMER. •
rsroTIOP
TO GRANGERS, FARMERS AND
OTHERS.
A8 THEY occupy the attention of all, these
hard times, the subscriber is determined to
meet them by offering good inch Hemlock, "not
usually sold for inch," at the 1°114:Acing rates• :
12 foot Hemlock. at $6 50 per thousand; 14 foot
Fencing, at $7, for Cash. All orders over 4,000
5 per cent. discount. Call and see if you don't
get what is represented.
Book Accounts over 8 months will be charged
8 per cent.
The subscriber thanks his numerous enstomere
for their liberal support, and solicits a confirm.,
ance of their favors.
JOHN THOMPSON.
Steam Saw Mills, MeKillop.
In order to reduce the Stock to make room for
New Goods we are now offering goods at
SUCH -LOW PRICES
that the closest buyers will be astonished.
DON'T FORGET THE BARGAINS
FOR ONE MONTH..
W11.4.4IAM HILL & Co.,
• One Door North of the Pest Office.
•
438
1\TCYTIO-
f 11A;'.7E this day dissolved the partnership
heretoiore existing between Richard je.hns
and me, the undersigned, carryin' g on business in
Sea fortk as Cabinet Makers and Undertakers,
under ttlie name, style and firm of johns & Row -
chile, and take notice that I will not be 'respon-
sible for any debts contracted in the name of the
said firm after this date. All debts due the said
firm either by note or book account must be paid
to me, the undersigned, as reeeipts4rom any
otherpersort-will not be recognized. Ali book
accounts must be settled at once or they will be
sued. Dated at Seaforth, this 6th day of Janu-
ary, A, D. 1877.
• 475 - GEORGE ROWCL1re.
DISSOLUTION OF PARTNERSHIP.
TIHE Business bitherto carried on in Seaforth
-A- under the name of D. McGregor & Son. Book-
binders, Printers, and Stationers, is dissolved,.
All debts due or contracted by the firm -will be
settled by the undersigned.
• DANIEL McGREGOR.
T WOULD return my sinerere thanks to the mer-
-/- chants, farmers and Others for the very lib-
eral patronage received. Hereafter the business
will be carried on at my own place in Harpurhey,
and as soon as the shop now bnilding in Sea -
forth is finished it will be rented and fitted up to
suit a tenant.
4'74-4 • D. McGii,EGOR.
DOMINI -ON STEAMSHIP COMFY.
ATESSELS Sail Weekly from Quebec for Liver-
• pool, calling at Belfast. Through Tickete
issued from Seaforth to Liverpool
Steerage, Seaforth to .. $32
Cabin, Seaforth to Liverpool..." .... 68
A. ARITIITAGE Agent
A few thousand &Bars to • loan -on improved
al
farm property, princippayable Litny time, and
in any sums to suit the borrowers' convenience
Some very nice Building Lots for sale in Seaforth
and Egmondville. Call and gee plan and get par
tic niers A ARMITAGE
488 -
ECLIPSE OATMEAL MILLS.
NOW IN FULL. OPERATION.
Oat Meal, Split Peas, Pot Barley,
Corn Meal Chopped,
And All Kindof Mill Feed Constantly on 'Hand
Chopping done Tuesdays and Fridays. Oatmeal
exchanged 1or Oats. Highest price paid for Oats,
Peas and. Barley.
413 • CURRIE & THOMSOlil.
HENSALL.
SAW LOGSWANTED.
THE Undersigned is prepared to purchase saw-
-a- logs delivered at Hensell this winter, for
which he will pay the following prices in cash:
Pine, $6 per 1000 feet; Basswood, $5 • Oak,
Ash, Butternut and Cherry $8; Hemlock,Birch,
Maple, Beech and Book and Soft Ulla, $1.
- As I am going to erect a raill in Hensel? I am
prepared to receiI.6 any quantities.
471+13. T. J. WILSON, Hensall.
$100.00 REWARD.
TT havingbeen reported to me that certain evil
-a- disposed parties in the same line of business,
but unlicensed, circulated the report that I own-
ed and had in my stables horses having the
Glanders. I hereby offer a reward of One Hun-
dred Dollars to any party furnishing -sufficient
evidence to convict one or more -of said parties.
474 D. D. ROSE, Hotel Keeper.
DISSOLUTION OF PARTNERSHIP.
N°TL.•E is herelly given that the partnerabip
hitherto existing between the undersigned.
wader the firm name of Jordan & Adams, Pies-
terers, in the Town of Seaforth, has this day been
dissolved by mutual consent.
J. JORDAN.
THOS. A. ADAMS. ,
Seaforth, Deo. 29, 1878. 4744
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