“daw the Life, tee Truth, the Way.

AND

XM

%

miner,

SEME-WEREEKLY IN TRELELIGENCER.

“PHS IS TRUE LIBERTY WHEN PREE-BORN MEN—HAVING ‘SO ADVISE THE PUBLIC—MAY SPEAK FREE.”—MiLTon’s EURIPIDES | ae ese tpt tnt a Glatt eee pettiness Theriot ncaa thn tnciincnsss tb lacie ta-+--deRiokadois bibs in abide AEE is eae

New Serics.

2 - - Oise 6 A CRIA EE eee

B A {3 Is L..

Iz rose amidst the spacious plain In solitary pride ; Beneath it, like a billowy main, The city’s rools lay wide: It was a wonder in the earth, Prom whence the fabrick took its birth.

he gazer’s upward glancing eye ~ Qer ridged galleries weat 5 Stil] up and up, till with the sky Its roofless height seemed blent, And the thick-cotumned balustrade Seem’d dwindled to a bennew’s biade.

And be who seal’d that height might hear

The city’s distant tium,

» Dying upon the atmosphere,

Tuli all arouad was dumb—

“Ten start at his own lonely breath,

Se much it eeemed the realm of death,

Tee rushing eagle deem’d that tower (Oaly a darker cloud, And borne ow weng of fata! power | 4 gains: its summit proud, With sudden shrick and shock was hurl’d Hows iifelees to the distant world,

And tower on tower and pile on pile Tre monstrous buliding grew, Still warulv eiming towards the simile CM neav’o’s celestial blue— Or midst the tempest and the storm Reering orseaii'd ite giant form.

How ewe i!'d the Suilders’hearis with pride Te see thar tower of might—

“We will wot ask for wigs,” they eried, * Towards hoaw'n to take our flight:

Some @horics mere, a little tune,

By our own tower ts walls we'll climb.”

Vain hove ! vein boost! the lightning came, And wram the Burldrne round— Ged gent jie inesuonver of Aime ‘Jo mone wt te the grovuud: And a greet betioe’s Heplous trust At once was levelled with the dust

Are not there hutidere even now Like teove on Shpar’s plain; De they net beavsnward strive to go ‘By veibs as faise and vain? How wanv ia their wayward will Are building other Babels still!

And bitier must the anguish be When that dread hour shall come: When esch with sudden thrill shail see How high, how pore the dome Of heaveu is o'er them, whilst the clay Of their poor works all giolts away.

There is a higher, holier path Unro that blessed realin:

Net moral foe nor fiendish wrath [rw track shall overwhelm:

He who was statn did be not say, 9

sitet

‘LOUIS PHILIPP#'S ‘LAST SCENE’

OF ALL.

About noon, on the 25th of August, his physician found that a sharp tever had rupervened, and with great tact discover- ed at once that the fatal hour was at hand. After a short deliberation he re- solved to communicate the intelligence to his patient, wivch he did in presence ef thie Queen. The King received the announcement whth-—fur a moment— sometinng of incredulous surprise and regret, but quickly recovered his sang- froid, and accepted his destiny wita the

‘ealimness and resolution which had cha-

racterised his whole Ife. lie remained alone with the Queen for seme time: no wie can tell what passed between the royal! couple, than which there, perh ps,

never existed one in any rank of life so long, 80 Uninterrupredly, and so entirely hapoy in each other—bound together by so many domestic ties—by the partieipa- tion of such exalted fortunes, and by the dearer trials of such reverses and vicissi- iudes. When at last one of the King’s confidential attendants was permitted to enter the room, lhe saw the aged couple— the King sitting in his usaal chair, and the Queen standing opposite to him— motionless and tearless, with eyes fixed on each other—like statues. Not a word was spoken till the King, with a firm vet interrupted voice, said to hiin (we give the xccount In the very words repeated to us,) * Veus avez, sans doute, mon ami, appris ce qui vient dese passer. . . . On m’a donne monconge,. . . ., li fant partir . . . I faut se separer. . « « Il parait que le bon Dieu va me rappeller a Jui.” ‘This he repeated with an increasing tenderness of voice two or three times. He then recollected that about four months before, he had been writ(ny some notes—relative (we beleive) to his return to France in 1814—and he said that he had stopped in the middle of an anecdote which he wished to have finehed. He asked for the bunch of keys he eiwavs wore, and told General Dumas, sho was now at his bedside, to go to such « cabinet where he should find the paper. The General seemed not to know which key to use, upon which the King seid with a smile, “IT could never teach vou to distinguish my keys,” and, taking the beech with a trembling hand thst did Rot answer fhe energy of the mind, he took off the key, and gave the General exsct directions us tothe shape and place of the peper. When the paper was brought, the King said, * My hand is al- ready too cold to write, but [ will dictate to vou.” Pre General eat down at the bedside and began to write; and then fol- lowed two smal! incidents which showed the perfeet—the minute —possession of his foculties even inthis supreme moment. Without looking at the paper, or asking whet wes the lust word he had written, now four months since, he went on with bis marrative withthe very next word that the sense required; and when he saw the General writing, as he thought, on his own original paper, he said, * You are not writing on my munuseript, | hope? but the General showed him that it was a Joose sheet whieh he had only placed on the tnannecrtipt to enable him to bold it more steadily, We have gathered that the anecdote itself was of no great im- portance, and was one which he had often told: but in the manuscript it had broken off in the middie of a sentence, and as it compieted a chapter of his Memoirs he did not choase to leave it imperfect.— When this affair whieh occupied buta short tune, was over, he dictated to the Queen a kind of codicil to bis will, ‘to leave testimony of his affectionate re- mewbrance of the sérvices of some of the oldest and most faithful of bis friends, followers and servante.? [le then an- nounced his desire to receive the sucra- ments of the Church—caused his chap- lain, the Abse Guelle. to be summoned —- and desired all his children and grand- children then at Claremonnt, with his and tneiw attendants, and in short the whole household, should be assenitled to wit ness his last acis of devotion; and in their presence * he discharged, says the official announcement of the event, ‘all the duties of religion. with the most perfeet Christion resignation, a stoical firumness, and a simplicity which is the real evi- dence of human greatness.’ ‘Phe Queen and al} their children remained fur a long time, kneeling, weeping, and praying around the bed. the King appearing per- fec:ly sensible and tranquil, and recog- nis ng with a look of affection every eye

CHARLOTTETOWN, DECEMBER 14, 1950.

1S Wawa:

that occasionally was risen to him. The fever increased in the night, but did not in the slightest degree affect bis mental composure, better’as to give a gleam of hope, which he accepted with alacrity. About four o’clock in the morning of the 26: he called his physician, and eaid, ‘fin verite, Docteyr, je me trouve bien— j@ crois que Vous vous trompez, et que je ne partaral pas cette fois-ci.’? The Doc- tor’s answer was only to feel his pulse and to shake his head; but the King re- plied with some viyacity. ‘Ah, mon cher Docteur, ceei nest pas un fir trial (30,) car je vieus de tousser, et cela agite le pouls’—so clear was his mind and so te- nacious of hope. These were nearly the last words he spoke, but even after he ceased to speak, his eyes distinguished benignantly the persons around. At Jength he closed his eyes, and after half an hour of slight, but with no apparent pain, he expired (at eight a, m.), still sur- rounded by his family and friends, ‘Tl est mort, repeated to us an oye-witness of the scene, ‘comme un Chretian doit mourir—comme un sage et an soldal sa- vent mourir.’— Mraminer.

Noctrurnat Visrrors.—At night, asl lay down, | heard a lion roar if the vicinity of the camp, bet soon | was asleep. Ina few hours | was awoke by ap unusual disturbance in the camp, and raising iny head, | saw the Bechuance standing close together round the fire with their faces outwards, while they shrieked and talked with unusual volu- bility. I guessed at once that a lion caused the rumpus; and [ was right. The night was pitch dark, so that nothing could be seen: buat Mollyeon told me that a leopard and hon were near us, endeavouring to obtain the venison of the zebras, which hung in festoons in the trees beside us; and next moment I heard the voices of both, for the lion roared and the leopard shrieked wi'dly as they sprang after the dogs, At length their bolduess increased ; the lion chased the dogs with angry growls to within twenty yards of where we stood, and the leopard actually sprang into the centre of imy larder beside the fire, and was making off with a large fragment of ribs, when the dogs went gallantly at hin. He turnea upon them, and so jacerated two that they soon died from their wounds. ‘We now snatched up large flaming brands from the fire; meeting the lion as he advanced we sent them flying in his face, when I fancy he made off. |} feared to use my ritie Jest I should shoot the dogs. The horses and oxen, although much alarmed did not endeavour to break Joose, being still very much fatigued from the hard- ships they had undergoae.—* Cummings ldventures in S. Africa.”

Mr. Caarres Kean’s Remunera- vioxs.—Shortly after the representation of Othello, Knowles’s play of The We was produced, and was received with success alinost equa! to that of Whe Hunchback. Charies Kean was the oriy- inal Leonardo. Gonzago; Miss Ellen ‘Tree, Mariana; Kuowles himself play- ing Judien St, Pierre. Charies Keansaw that he bad as yet made httle or no im- pression, and resolved to act no more Ip London until he could place himself at the © top of the tree.” Although he had encoumered rebufis and disappointinents, still the conviction of ultimate success was strong within him, and he felt satis fied that sooner or Juter he should attain it, Oue day he met accidently Mr. Bunn, the treasurer of Drury-line Phea- tre, who sat! that in all probability he could readily obtain an engagement at Drury-lane at £15 a-week. ** No,” re-

pucd he, “i will never again set wy foot

“Vol. 1: No. 90

: ~

on a London stage until | can command my own terins of £50 a-night.” © Then, Charles Kean,” rejoined Mr Buna, witha smile, “1 fear you may bid a long faro- weil to London, for the davs of sueh Salaries are gone for ever.” ‘Sime rolled op, and at the expiration of five years only, during which he had received £20,000 by acting in the country, be drove to the stage door of Drury-Jane in his own carrigge, with a signed engave- ment of £50 a-night in his pocket, and which engagement, for upwards of 40 nights, was paid to him by the very maa who had predicted its impossibi!ity.”— Dublin University Magazine.

STATISTICS OF AGRICULTURG IN EUROPE. ;

The London Circular to Bankers con tains some interesting statistics in regard to the Agricultural products of the coun- try. It estimates the amount of land annually appropriated to the production of wheat at 6,000,000 of acres. If we alluw twenty-seven bushels tu the acre as an average crop, the annual production will be 20,250,000 qrs. lt u, however, estimated that the crop for 1350 will not exceed 17,000,000 rs, and the question now urises where the deficiency is lo come from. It is weil knowa that in Germany and Russia the crops are more nearly exhausted than usual; Russia las never been able to repleuiss ber military stores of corn, so unprecedent!y brokeg into in 1347, and the rye aud potetoe crops in Germauy are decidedly bad, La Prussia, Belgium and Jlolland, the crops are very inferior to those of Id. Ie is anticipated that large supplies will be sent from Spain tw the ilediterranean, but nothing equal to the falling otf in Germany, Belgium, &c. Jn Franc, more laud than usual has been devoted to ihe raising of wheat, the high prices which prevailed in 1847 having greatiy stimulat- ed the agricultural indusiry of ite coun- try. Erauce was formeriy an importar of wheat, but now she Is an exporter, and it is estimated that she will be able to furnish England this year from 560,000 to 750,000 quarters of wheat and flour. ‘Tous far it will be seen that Europe wil! not be able to furnish the deficiency ia England, and it is evident that consder- able supplies must be drawn fom Cansda andthe United States. At the rates now current at Liverpool, no larger suppiies can be expected frou this Country. The flour and grain transacuonspiow guing forward are quite small, and tie most of it sentout on ship’s account. ‘Tue stores of foreign grain now available for the Nag- >» . . lish market are much iess io (ie agere- gate than they were at the same date in 1849, but so Jong as the warket there continues In its preseut depressed slate, und so lung as the Uritish fartoers’ aud holders of foreign Wheat contimue to force their grain upou Wie market at pre- sent low rates, ho very heavy slipueuts will be made from this country.

me _

PREPARATIONS IN INDIA FOR TUE Grear Exuizivion or 105),—Prepura- tions for the indian contribute’ to the great Exhibition of ludust:y efal! nations sre xheady berun at Bombay, ‘lhe invest remarkabie manufactures ig West em india are siiks aud damasks; biack- wood furniture and open carved work ; inlaid work of tvory. colored” woods and metal; japidary work, especially in age- tes, jasper3, and cornelians; silverwork ; arms, bows, arrows, swords, shields*and matchlocks,— Grirlend Jud,

sae. a ene aS

mae

ee ee AR eR RO I