THE MAIL-BAG OF THE PHCENIX.

BY FLORA HAIHE3 LOUGFHEAB.

I ACK ALSTEYNTI was a man (^H who seemed to bave been bom into the world for the express purpose of running a race witli Time, and it must Be conceded that he generally seemed to get- the- better of that ancient worthy. He was a- San Francisco stockbroker of the rattling, impetuous type,-who., never let the grass grow under hia feet when any undertaking in which ho was con cerned was at hand. Therefore no one ■wassurprised when, after a month's vacation- up North, he returned with a pretty young wife, whom he met, courted, and married in that brief space of time. But there were many who predicted that only ill could re sult from so hasty a wooing.

They had been married upwards of iuiree years, and 'things had Hoc gone well with them. Whenever Jack made a Ineky stroke upon the street he was sure to swamp the proceeds in some ill-timed venture, and to find himself, in Western parlance, flat on his back. In vain his wife beseeched him to put by a little 3um for a rainy day, or to embark in some business less dazzliDg in ft 3 possibilities, but surer in its re turns. Whatever the present outlook, Jack was always confident of ultimate success. At one time occupying a costly 3iuce of rooms at a fashionable hotel, at another dwelling in furnished apartments in a cheap quarter, living partly at restaurants and partly resort ing to that decent sort of starvation known as " light housekeeping," Kate Alsteyhe tasted all the bitters and sweets of existence known to a specula. tor's wife.; When, after & long surf en of this sort of living, the desire gre^ strong upon her to revisit her old Ore gon home, her husband yielded a re-ady consent, for.to tell the truth, he needed ail hi 3 available fund 3to invest in a certain stock that was offered at " bed rock" prices, the bears having posses sion of the market.

He missed her more than he had ex pected. After a day of feverish excite ment it had been a rest to him to come into her soothing, womanly presence, and to recount to her the vexations of the day, sure of her sympathy if not her approval.. JSfor <fici he, contrive to effect any appreciable saving in his per sonal expenses, although, to do the man justice,he practised the most abstemious habits and neglected his apparel until his seedy appearance became the talk of the street.

Months passed by, and the stock up on which, he had staked all he possessed showed no prospect of rising. In fact, there wan at one juncture a heavy as sessment levied, and bad it not been for the generosity of a friend, Jack would not have preserved the empty comfort of still retaining the certificates. Under the combined influences of his lonely life and ill-fortune he grew morbid, and fancied that with his wife's departure bad luck had come upon him, for although he was not unused to commercial npg and downs, the balance had never before been against him for so long a time. Although she wrote frequently and affectionately, always expressing- the same cheering confidence in their ultimate prosperity, she never made any mention of return ing to him. Month followed month, and when j November came with its chilly winds and rains, he formed a fierce resolution. He would assert his marital authority,peremptorily demand her return. With Jack Alsteyne to plan was to execute, and on this occasion he did not proceed in the happiest manner in the world to carry out his resolution. He sat down and wrote a savage letter, proudly refrain ing from betraying the bitter sense o£ desolation her continued absence caused him, but reproaching her for so long neglecting her wifely duties, and demanding that she should take pas sage for San Francisco on the steamer Phoenix, which, he ascertained, would leave the port a few days later* This letter despatched j he would fain have recalled it, for he knew how^ it wduld wound Bis wife's sensitive nature, and-deep; in his; heart lie:recog nised her unswerving fealty to him. During the ten days that followed, he wandered restlessly about, oppressed with the sense of impending disaster. A couple of days before the steamer was due the ominous storm, signal, a black flag with a blood-red square in the centre, floated from the tower of the Merchants' Exchange. Thewind rose and raved like a million furies set loose, rain descended in torrents, and tidings came that the bar was breaking heavily at the entrance to the harbour. ' Several days passed, and although many noble ships came crawling feebly into port, their crippled and dis mantled condition bearing witness to the violence of the storm, the Phoenix, long over-due, did not put in an ap pearance. One night, Jack Alsteyne, strolling along Montgomery- street, joined a crowd gathered, about the bulletin board of a newspaper office. He stopped just long enough to read that the steamer Phoenix had foun dered and gone down upon the nor thern-coast with all onboard; than?he disappeared into the darkness and the

- Hail" he waited: a little "-longer; vs a prudent man shauid, to take the full ■ measure of his calamity, fie might have ;made two discoveries freighted with. ; moment to him—the one, that nia : wife's name did not appear on the list !of cabin passengers oa the unfortunate vessel; the other,, that in a window close by, among the stock reports of the day, a certain inine. long considered worthless, was quoted at fabulous

figures. Two weeks later a mutilated and un recognisable body, found floating in the bay, was pronounced by a coroner's jury to be the mortal remains of Jack Alsteyne, the dashing young stock aperator, who had disappeared on the night, the Phoenix want down. "Meanwhile the corps of volunteer wreckers who had appeared rtt the rocky point up the coast, -where the good ship went to pieces, found their number augmented by a grim-faced saturnine man, who applied himself to work, with a savage energy, claiming no salvage upon the various useful articles which came floating in upon the tide, bat searching with morbid curiosity each ghastly form that was cast upon the sands^ helping to give these decent burial in the sand dunes above, or with his own hands nailing up rude coffins wherein they made the journey to sorrowing hearts in the >;greac city. When the waves finally forebode to give Up farther treasure and the other men had departed for their homes, ft was observed that he remained behind, taking up his abode

in a dismal cabin which had been con structed by some Italian fisherman, and then abandoned. Here he lived on alone for more than two years, holding little converse with human beings, and apparently sustaining himself by scant catches of fish, which, he traded off at the little seaport town a mile or two away. By the inhabitants of the surrounding country he was re garded as a harmless lunatic, whose chief diversion consisted in gather ing fragments of wood and bolts and bars from a wrecked ship, which he storeil in heaps beside his dwelling. Whenever a venturous pedestrian chanced down that way he was sure to see the recluse, not watching his nets and lines as a thrifty fisherman should, but delving in the sands or steadfastly gazing upon the incoming tide. And so more than two years passed by, and the inhabitants began to point with pride to the lonely hut and its eccentric occupant as legitimate attractions of the region, when the lunatic, searching on the beach one day, after his wont, made a discovery which changed the current of his life.

Strolling past a little sandy cove,he observed a bit of dry brown leather, looking not nniike an old boot-leg, pro jecting from the sand. He poked ft carelessly with his foot, and as he did so his attention was attracted*by a rusty nail, •which appeared to be riveted in the leather. He sat down beside it and listlessly sbovejled away the sand with his hand?, growing more interested when he came upon a row of curioti3 metallic rings, and then up on a stout clasp with the letters U.S.A. deeply graved upon the ssurface. He knew he had come upon the mail bag of the lost steamer Flingin; it across shoulder, he started for his cabin, and, ripping open the leather with a sharp bladed knife, spread out its contents upon the floor before him. Dried and crisp through, long exposure to the burning sands,' they yet bore witness of the ordeal through which they had passed, for many of the addresses were partly or wholly obliterated, news papers were reduced to a compact mass of pulp, and many of the folded sheets had become so firmly glued together that they had taken on the consistency of cardboard. As lie turned them over one by one he came upon one addressed to himself in a clear woman's hand.

The sipht stupefied him for an instant. Up to that moment he had not known what he expected, but had pursued his search with unreasoning desire and vague anticipation. He hesitated for a moment before he opened the little envelope which the waters bad unsealed for him, and started like a man struck by an electric shock when the first line he read con firmed the meaning of the address. For it was no message from the dead that greeted Jack Alsteyne's eyes, but a letter from his Jiving wife, a letter posted in haste before the 3teamer had sailed, a letter wJiich took no heed of his reproaches, bat in the gentlest, truest, most womanly way proved Kate Alsteyne to be the faithful loving wife he had always known her to be.

The letter Jack Alsteyne came upon in the mail sack of the lost steamer was such an one as few men have ever read,, and probably none ever read before un der the circumstances, for it contained a wife's most sacred confession. Shyly yet lovingly she told him that the hour of womanhood's great trial was fast ap proaching for her, and begged him. to come to her and ' remain until she should be able to travel again, and wife and child could return with him to their home. Then, with many tender apologies, she confessed to him that, knowing of his business misfortunes, she had hesitated to worry him with this new burden of expense, and so had returned to her old home, where, by taking a few private pupils, she had been enabled to lay by a little, store of money to cany her through her coming illness.

Quick thinker and quicker actor as he had always been, Jack Alsteyne was slow to comprehend the full pur port of this letter. He turned over the empty maiUack, tracing with his fingers the halfrobliterated characters which spelled the name of the fated steamer. Gradually it dawned upon him that his wife never took passaga upon her, that, for. aught he knew, she waratiU safe aid-well, and vtiih, 9,

cftiffl-^hfa "fiMH-'-Bd-ffiewftSrS' awaited' his coming-, aa he had so long ago waited for some token from her, al though fully persuaded that she lay at the bottom of the sea, which moaned and surged at his door. Something of his old rapidity of action returned with this thought. He hastily thrust the papers back, into the old mail sack and carefully secured it, mindftri that among the stained and sodden, letters there might; be some which would .bring comfort to other hearts, then tied it up with a few other articles'which he wished to pre serve, and stepped out into the air and sunshine with new-born strength and > hope.

I He did not stop to count the years that had passed or reckon the chances that discouraged by long waiting, or stung by the laelief that be had deliber ately forsaken her, his wife might have formed new ties. Indeed, a man much slower of decision and more de liberate of judgment would have found it difficult to associate the idea of change and inconsistency with Kate Ahteyae. From falsehood and treach ery she might have turned unrelent ingly away, but never from the man who, whatever his faults, had truly loved her.

When KaU Alsteyne returned to San Francisco, she found herself a rich widow, for Jack's last rasl* speculation had turned out well. There were not wanting those who said that, from a. monetary point of view, Jack's demise occurred" at a very fortunate moment, for had he lived he would have been sure, with his customary recklessness, to have sold out too soon, or else to have sacrificed his gaiii3 in some new and foolhardy venture. Indeed, it was the prevailing conviction that Mrs Alateyne ought to consider her self a fortunate woman, and when a proper time had elapsed, society made a concerted efiort to draw hec forth from her self-sought seclusion into its whirling maelstrom of gaiety and frivolity.

Society might a3 well have spared. its ammunition. To use a far-fetched simile Kate Alsteyne effaced herself from the world in mourning for her husband, as faithfully as any East en widow ever immolated herself upon the funeral pile of her dead lord. Finally, society, with a sigh that carried more regret for the' loss oilier fortune and the possibilities of hospitable en tertainment, thus ruthlessly withdrawn than for the deprivation of her indivi dual presence, learned to let her alone. She led a quiet, uneventful life, watch ing over her child with jealous love, paying frequent long visits to a giass grown grave at Lone Mountain, and passing her summers at someout-of-fche way, secluded place, where none in truded upon her solitude, and where she held herself sadly aloof from the loca'i interests of the community.

It was a somewhat remarkable co incidence that at the very moment Jack Akteyne set out in hot haste from his cabin to precipitate himself again upon the world Mrs Jack Alstejne should-have staited out from the little seaside hotel, a mile down the beach, anxiously searching for her little daughter, whose baby feet had strayed far down the beach However, events of this sort have a way of pair ing off in real life, so that the acute observer ceases to wonder at their recurrence. But it was certainly no coincidence, but some parental instinct divinely implanted in the human breast which caused Jack Alsteyne, snatching the little creature from the teeth of the incoming tide, to press the child to his heart with unac countable fervour and to cover its small face with kisses.

The child, having no corresponding filial instinct developed at that early age, but seeing only a large, rough man, whose touch was none too gentle, and whose beard grazed her delicate skiri, cried out in affright; whereupon the; qnondam acolyte, conscious of a new-found fund of gaiety and good

humour, went down upon Iris knees and cut a number of absurd antics for her diversion.

It was in this attitude that Mrs Jack Alsteyne came upon them. It has already been intimated that this lady took no share in the prevailing local interest regarding the character ;of the strange being who had taken up his residence beside them,- but as she followed the tiny tracks over the wet sand, and realised that they were j nearing the hermit's cot, for the first time her mind was filled witbi uneasy speculations regarding its occupant. It did not relieve her. apprehensions when a sudden bend in the shore brought her within sight of the singu lar tableaux" upon the sand, and she observed the grotesque per formances of the tal', gaunt figure, and heard the baby's cries of ad miration and delight. The mother quickened her steps, bui so lightly did her feet press the yielding sand, and so absorbed was the reclnsa in his nn wonted occupation, that it was only when the flutter of her black, garment broke like a sombre chord against the warm yellows and browns of the beach and towering cliffs that he roused, shame-faced and breathless, to the knowledge that he had a second spectator. . • ~.

He doffed his hafe on the instant^ with something of his old.grace of manlier, and would have stammered an apology, but his eye was arrested and his tongue palsied at aighfc of fe'.fe alight young figure, disfigured >y "&

dinging weeds,., with, face so pitifully" altered, and wistful eyes fixed on the child, as if thbi smalt form were the measure and span of all her earthly interests. For the first time in his life he-was not in a hurry. He wanted time to think out the meaning of her strange attire. He dimly realised that in some unaccountable manner she had imagined Km lost to her, and he would Lave giveriworlJs to have slipped quietly away and prepared her for the meeting, for there was that in her face winch told him that any sudden shock mi.wht have a disastrous effect upon her. In his consternation at what he saw and his complete loss as to what to do or say, he did perhaps the best and wisest thine he could have done. He stood still and looked down upon her and left the rest to Fate. He often said in after years that these minutes of self-restraint and of inaction consti tuted the most valuable lesson of his life. His wife and child were before and within arms' length of him, miraculously raised from the dead, a3 it were, yet he stretched out no hand to touch them, spoke no word to break upon their silent embrace of affection which ex cluded him. flinging, him out like a stranger and outcast, but stood silent and grave before them humbly awaiting his time.

It came in a way he had not ex pected. She raised her eyes timidly to him, and as he perceived their utter lack of recognition, he suddenly realised that since their last parting lie had aged and turned grey, lxatl his heavy beard and rough costume not proved an effectual dis guise, and he thanked God for it, be cause it would give her time fcr doubt and reflection and re-consideration, rather than the quick flame of convic tion which sometimes proves fatal to brain or body in a sensitive organisa tion.

" I thank you, sir, for the care yoa have given my little girl," said she, and then stopped short, arrested by some thiug she saw in his face, and looked at him piteously, as it entreating him to speak, to free her from the painful illasioa which was taking possession of her.

He saw a great sorrow bare itself in her face and longed to take her to his heart and comfort her, but still lie did not speak or move, but waited for slow knowledge of the truth to dawn upon her.

The little girl broke the tense strain of the moment, raising up her arms to j him, and begging him to toss her up | again. Some happy intnition taught him what to do. He lifted her in his arras with his bid merry laugh, and, holding her close to him, said with a voice that broke a little in spite of i6s efforts to be strong and gay— "Little daughter, tell mamma that papa has indeed come back." Eut before the child could do hi 3 bidding his wife was sobbing in hi 3 arms.—The New York "Weekly Times."

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, THURSDAY, APRIL, 21, 1887 V

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/"i U2f S ! GUNS! GU HS I Rifles ! Krn.E3 l REVOLVERS 1 REVOLVERS* - \ GUNPOWDER! Shot, Caps,, Cartridges, Wa&Sng, Wihe Carteidgk.% Loadixg Appakatcs, AMMUNITION Of Every Descbhtiox, Kishing Tackle, Cutlery, Fireworks, &c | The best and cheapest House in Auckland for the above Is at D. ETITTS, 234, Quesx-stkeet. Repairs and erery description of Gunworkdone t the lowest possible prices, and satisfaction guaranteed. D. E¥ITT, GITSJUKEB, QUEEN-STREET, AUCKLAND (Opposite the Market House). PRICE LISTS SENT TO AXY ADDRESS. ilk IK If HOBSON-ST. II % VISIT jflf If \^/ (USH AND DEFERRED PAYMENT J TAILORS, DRAPERS. AND HABEE MAKERS, HOBSOX-3TBEET. We regpectfnTly invitar attention to onr LargCi Stock of NOVELTIES &r the present seaaon. Otur Great Variety and Choice of the Efeftt Fabrics, with the Skill and Taient we empfcr and the great success of our efforts to prod" ace Superior Garmenta. PERFECT in FIT: and UNEXCELLED in CUT and STYLE. f?i-f JiS every confidence in. respectfully soiicir'ir^ thß favour oi a. Tisiu c . / All Tweeds tiioronghly slirauk I}ftisr,re being made up, and fit and workmanship z a-j.ran teed. The DKFiatRED .Patmest 'Stw r : ttx has been found to be v great boon, by enab 4r^ those with limited incomes to-procure net^jganea in the easiest possible way. All Good?are markedin pr^fji flares. , Cas^.-^ lt?a^ 3 retcll e Srir cent, discount (one sfiilttujfiß the.potmd-Kte^faju-^-ut parcea of 20& and upwards. j 'iXSPECnej? DJVITED. Tramcara faaa the djtj/ ar- JpiANO&! PTANDS i i THE BESiC VALUE IN THE. WdRLD. m f y^^andl^R SALfeUdra Few Weeks ?Bifvi? r >n:-. Shop Toare Alexadder's) iminedi atßl y«*P'i»aitß the NatfotiEl Bank. Samples of the aboye Beautiful Instrumente , I- MUST BE SOLD. ". £ ' lSb7 Harmoniums and cHuftcH organs, „.,: ■. "With Two Mariualaand Pedal. BAPBR HANG INGS. TV. PHILLIPPS & SON fiAVERECEIViSD, EX LATE AftRIVALS, ; 185—PAOKAGI1S--185 S CONTAINISe , 55,000 ROLLS OF; PAPERHANUINGS, COXSIStIjfG OF i ~ T*EV? PATTERNS 1 or Diriirij* Bed- Rooms, BTall aiid Staircase, suitable for the Mansfan Or Cottage. f ' ii.'£i\ BEAUTIFUL DESIGNS^ ; '1 AND BEST JMgKg^gJ^,.^ ■ 916 —PACKAGES—9I6 : \ S C RIMS AND HESSIA ICS PLATE J^ND SHEET GLASS, WHjfE LEAD, OILS, TURPS, VARNISHES} •AND ALL TRADE SUNDRIES. 5 % pKill ip ps h fjou, 85 AND 87, QVHaBf-StREW,



i Drapery. t i 1 1 1 , A MAGNIFICENT STOCK. OF NEW GOODS IK MEN'S, YOUTHS', AND BOYS' : CLOTHING HATS HOSIER! SHIRTS Ac, kc, &c, NOW DISPLAYED AT THE NEW ZEALAND CLOTHING FACTORY 153 AND IGO, QUEEN-STREET. The Boys' and Youths' Clothing inclndes some Wonflcrfnlly Cheap Goods, to which prompt inspection ia respcct fnlly invited. XXTHY PAY YOUR DRESSMAKER A HIGH PRICE TO SPOIL YOUR DRESS? GOTO TE SUEUE'S BON MARCHE! ASD PAY ONLY 12s, 6cL FOR A FIT AND STYLE SECOND tO 3TONE IN THE COLONIES, And an Immense Stock, of all thu LATEST NOVELTIES IN DRESS FABRICS To select from at Prices to defy coi»petitioi7, FOR. CASH ONLY. / If ym want a Handsome Genoa. Faced Yy'r- VETKES' DRIT3S, go tO / LESUECR'S, jf ABaforSsilidper yard you -will get a/sinriiia Louis. Velvetfex (stamped on e^ e^ n^, C f yard), in a few- good fash.ortable coloir ~q Th P <,i goods are considerably Tjnder wboter ale'ebst. If yon want a Cheap ru>d Goc'j qf T fo TirWa call »t the BON 2OAJRCHKI^S* yl£" T<ffi SUEUR'S fjtockpf Read r-madf C ortum^ from . « K^SS?*JiJSg 1? V sh Hat or Bonnet, sec n^iSa^ lC ™ Yatuecan #gSl^So^^?S^ *"C*. CASH ONLY. i QUEEr^sT'EE'ET, A'UCICL'A^D 1 Thsf; a doors from Wollcslcy Street East.



New Autumn Good! ■Mr*-*—"-" "*" ~~~"" y. j Ladies' Umbrellas. A *At * «. * t «^fi»« r Silk Umbrella* from -Is tW eacfe.-: Skii-I lair im!^ 17S' tEO'lS^ Ladies' Woot Shawfs. Wt QUEEN STREET, - nt of la^ qualityjroaujj AUCKLAND. , A g e*ch? UdkZ Opera Hoc^-Fetty and usefal-at 4 S «. ; y^^JW?\ Ladles' Hand Bags. | • ; A ■ptedU assortment, comprising all the latest novelties, *E very moderate pric^j. Mantle Ornaments. | X^^^\ Tha neweife styfes to Bnud, Beaded, and Chenille Mantle Onuunenta-Tery choi^: .df&xlS U(pNm^ Astracharv Trimmings. |/ WILLIAM BiTTBAr, ' ■ . ■ '"'| !^ Draper and Hosier, ju uces ana Fiouncmgs. \\l ££> Ladies' Handkerchiefs. Jf^T Ladies' White and Coloured Bordered Cambric Handkerchiefs from 3a 6d per £A&r j» Ladies' Shot Sak HandkercMefs, Bplendid talae at Is 6d each. William Rattral I7S, ISO, 182, QUEEN STREET, AUCKLAND, IMPORTER OF DRAPERY, MILLINERY, COSTUMES, MANTLES, ETC., ETC. ' ,;| - ■■■ .- ■ •' ■ ™ ' ' '' ' '"""—' ' " ''



WE ARE THE CHEAPEST KARANGAHAPE ROAD 1 CORNER OF EAST-ST. __^_ i i— 3 FOUR WEEKS TO CLEM I: - m L* sending forth this announcement, I bdg tor state that my basiness for thelasttt seasons has so seriously suffered through iH health, that I have decided to reKmjnlz&l and" to save selling the whole Stock by tender, purpose holding a '' ''* iI'OUK WEEKS' GENUINE SAL| COMMMCMG AT? OUTCiL S^GHBAT REDUCTIONS! . \ Rjductions will be madft on every article^ and no deception. At the tenninatioa of & the Balance of Stock,"with long Lease, Fixtures* &c, will be ! submitted to the Public for Tender. , ' ["Cashmere^ bkek and coloured ffom lO^d Men's Tweed Suits from • • 13* j ' Fancy DresS Goods - - . 2|d, 4§d, 6|d Men's Printed Moles • ■ | -i|f Calicoeafrom *> - - - - l|d Mea's Tweed Overcoats from- - 15sl Crewdsott's32in.No. 2- : — - 3^d Knicker'Suitsfrom - - * all Scarlet Flannels from. - - - 64d Tweedkby theyardirom - *-ltß Sheetings, white and nnbkached, from 6gd Men's Shirts - - - • * Ml Table Damask from - - S|d Men's Socks - - « - SdrgpsS 9/4 Blankets from - - -~,.- 3s (Jd Men'a Hater - ~ * « »1&«* Ladies' Corset* Is 3d per pair PloWeisldteach. tJnderclotnkg, infants' Robes, &d, clear at Lowest Price?. —-J COME EARLY FOR BARGAESS TO }—^- [fj JAMES SCUTT,' iiO3snoo2sr szorrss, VI.CTG-HIA AND NELSON STREETS, Three iainutes from Tram CSan top at Wellealey Street. ■•-'""-, ■.. .■-■■■ • ; • ' >V' OOWSUMPTION CURABII "MR G. T. CONGREVE OK COISUMPTIOI ■~. ■~.,,,.. AifD tig stJdcESsfcfL tKbatMent. Showing that direful disease to be curaUe in all its stages ; with obseryatioat! . ASTHMA, CHEONIC BEONCHITIS, ETC." *' ■' . Faoai lite » Christun Bbeald," March 31, ISSS. MR Q. Ti COJJGRHVE-8 /^RKATMKNX OF OONStJiiPTIok AND OTHSIJ . fc-^a^ A 't-j CHIEST DISEASES 'iJj * hV 0*6?^88 t0 "^ m*Ue * gw*6 blessing to sufferers, far and wide, in every £»« 5? Krjagapm. ' ■■':-':;: ■-■ ■■■'■.':: ;'■.:■■,.-.:::;■ .'• -■-■■:■. ■ ■ ■■■-■ ;"■■■•• ""' '■ '*Jal f X «f he worli! md #«» 6afielv^s owo him a debt of graiitnd-.'. Kot long sines ' > yoang lady tinder hia et-te, whd lias recovered her health, p-ri we noed dn!y P? ID!Si« casoe (Mr Uoti^tigt© la publishing one fiver weekl many of which had BSSn gi«fi"||l I past all attpff, I ■■'■.■ ■■. . ..... . r J* 1 ' " There can ba Ho doubt that for Consumption and otW Chest Complaint#*»™ grereia a specialist of thfrfiret order, and Btandß unrivalled. Certainly there b^^jH otherducdVery in medical science from which the consumptivepatienti may'gather to*m hojpe-as from hlii" .--■ - :; ' ~> " The ose hosd*.si> ANpTmasf-iHHE4 ei^whJoharor^coMMWMrWoSl^ book are a moat convinchijr testimony; but tfb.*t have bean long a marvel ta*WHB 1 h»ve beeD Polished for,6overal years past in the weekly Joitf^Jß&W M.chidSd),on6 every week." (THo reader is rtJerred to the «• Chriatiaa W6r«, • JJ| tian^e," "Christian Globe," *{~, Ac.) "^B ii*iSte!«*»ff 2fCJ?^fe? '** <*)Ombe I.odge, Peckham, Londoa), has been||K» 4*weattatomake his <re^m e n« kndwn in all the British Colonibs. Thop*»" J BO6KU-* SIXPEHCE, OE SEVENPENCE, POST FRiIE. , . |' PiJßLisrtEb it UPTON AND CO., A^TOSL&Kft |i , * And may be otdered throustlj «uy BookwUftr _ )