MOORE'S RTGPEAL KW-Y0&K3&&. 



. 3. 



RELICS OF THE LOST. 



[(JaptaOt McCHntock't Jourtu 

 Oiu «toat fcenrls brave the ice- winds bleak, 



Has pushed and perished long ago. 



Onward with IbrobblDg hearts we far.*!", 

 For, looming through the ice-fog clilll, 



Wrung from the Iron realms of frost, 



■Watched b) 



e symbol of Eternity. 



was secured, and I was happy, though someti 

 a 6hadow would cross the sunshine of my hi 

 when I thought *f »y mother— sho who should 

 have been my best earthly fi tend was still i 

 per to the affectionate bear* ber own coldn 

 Chilled. The village was usually a quiet 







disturb the 

 rested. 



peaceful harmony with which 

 Hut it was not alwajs to be tb 

 iLe intelligence came that a wealthy brother of 

 Squirt IUtkolds had come borne from the East 

 Indie*, and was coming to visit him. The Sq 

 (houpht nothiDg except a grand party could | 

 suQkieut honor to such a distinguished viai 

 All the village was now in agitation, for a part 

 the Squire's, was considered to he a grand of! 

 What rendered ILe excitement more intense 

 the fact that Puntr Rbikolds was young, aud still 

 unmarried. Great preparations bad been going 

 forward, invitations had been sent, and & brill 

 time was expected. I bad not looked for 

 although Squ ir e Reynolds bad been agoodfri 

 ■Ifl] I did not think he would remember me ir 

 time of rejoicing. But I was in error— lor 

 bright morning, just before going to school, 1 

 Wary perceived the Squire's " boy " making great 

 baste towards our bouse, and in a little 

 had left an invitation for Miss Ella Warbi: 

 so the note said,— to the S 

 evening. 1 bud n.'-'jlv.. >1 







I'son the succeeding 



ion began to wave 

 30 much reserved 



HIDDEN LOVE. 



Chapter I. 



My mother had never loved me. Since m 



dear father's death, I had been almost alone i 



the v 







heart, I had wished* to die — yet there w 

 the world to live for, and I would lire to moke 

 others happy. Why it was she did not love me I 

 never knew. I often thongbt it was because I 

 was not handsome, like my cold, proud-hearted 

 sister, — self was the shrine nt which she worshiped, 

 — the idol she adored. I remember once, when 

 I had been ill— very ill— how I bad lain quietly in 

 the deep silence and solitude of my chamber, and 

 wished I might go and be with my dear father in 

 heaven; for be had loved me, oh! so tenderly— 

 had clasped me in bis arms before he died, and 

 asked Go» to protect his poor, forsaken child— the 

 memory of his parting kiss, how sweet it lingers — 

 but 1 wander. I remember that I thought then I 

 would soon get well, hud 1 only some one to love 

 me ; but ah, do one came softy to my little room 

 and whispered, " how is Ella this morning ?" or 

 placed a loving hand upon my aching head. I had 

 nearly recovered, when, one morning, summoning 

 all the strength I could command,! had gone softy 

 to my mother's room. She was dressed for an 

 evening party, and looked so lovely in her glorious 

 pride, that 1 thought on such a joyous occasion 

 she must at least be happy, and her heart filled 

 with love. Mistaken thought ! In the warmth of 

 my affection I rushed in, aud throwing my arms 

 around her exclaimed, "Oh, mother, do you love 

 me'r" In an instant the pleasant smile was gone, 

 and^wiili a frown she replied— " Ella, Ella," 

 What areyou doing here? jou are always troubling 

 me with some foolish question— go immediately to 

 your room." I shrankfromberpresonce.feelingaa 

 if the fountain of love bad forever ceased to flow in 

 my heart, and again sought the quiet of my own 

 Utile room. Here I threw myself down in the 

 abandonment of sorrow— the fountain of tears was 

 loosed. I wept till I could weep no more Bnd 

 sobbing, fell asleep. From that day I was a 



changed being. I asked no more if she loved roe 



coldness took the place of all affection— but none 

 knew the deep well of love which was bubbling up 

 in my heart,— none knew how my soul yearned for 

 some one on which to lavish, all us tenderness— its 

 sympathy— its love. 



Chapter II. 

 The years, rolled on, bringing their chunges. I 

 woe no longer a child, and with this thought came 

 one that I would no longer be treated us I bad 

 been. I would forsake thai home which had been 

 anything but pleasant to me, and would seek that 

 kindness from the cold aud cruel world which had 

 been denied me by my haughty mother a»d si.-ter. 

 My father had a sister residing in the village of 

 N , and I determined to go and live with her. 

 I obtained a cold assent to my proposal from my 

 mother, hut u Uifo wa| M , txpected> T was not 

 disappointed l)r di 9C ournged. One fine morning I 

 hastily collected what few tbings I possessed, and 

 started on my journey, I arrived safely at mv 

 aunt's house, who received me von- aflWtir. 

 and.I felt that she loved ( 

 though 1 thought I would try ta get her to h 



ately, 

 ! for my father's sake, 



She remarked I "bad been toe 



she wanted me to enjoy myself- 



great deal of singing, and I was very fond of 



music," so I thought I would go and enjoy that, 



Chapter HX 

 The great evening come at last. I bed goi 

 early and saw the guests entering, all with smil 

 and happy faces,— how many bad happy hearts 

 Goo knew— I did not. Soon tbey gathered in litt 

 clusters around the room, and the cheerful laugh 

 and witty rematk was heard 

 cumbers rapidly increased. Unobserved, I had 

 obtained a seat near one of the bay windows, and 

 entered into conversation with a sweet little girl 

 who sat near me. Presently the hum of many 

 voices ceased, the door opened, and I'ebcy Rey- 

 nold entered. I did not raise my eyes at first, 

 but when I did, what a form and face did I behold ! 

 From that moment I felt that I loved him— but 

 what hope was mine! Here was wealth, beauty 

 and fashion nil assembled to do Mm honor, and 

 my heart shrank once more from the offering it 

 would make of its affection, lie was tall and com- 

 manding in persoD, bis eyes were gray, shaded by 

 long, heavy lashes, out of which beamed the very 

 soul of tenderness my heart so long had sought. 

 Once only did those eyes meet mine, and then with 

 deep emotion I tnrned away to answer some ques- 

 tion of tbe little prattler beside me. Well did I 

 conceal my agitation — for when the introduction 

 took place, I betrayed not tbe slightest feeling. 

 Late in the evening, the little child bad wearily 

 thrown herself on an ottoman, and with her heed 

 resting upon me, hud fallen asleep. A large num- 

 ber bad collected around tbe piano to listen to tbe 

 singing. Not wishing to disturb tbe iiule sleeper 

 I had retained my position, and had listened to a 

 number of songs with much pleasure. At leoglb 

 a sweet voice fell upon my ear. A young lady waa 

 imple melody, of wbicb I could 







II.. 



those words brought back the past, the tears came 

 unbidden, but I forced tbem back, and, turning 

 away, I gazed far out in the still night upon tbe 

 surrounding darkness. I had Dot looked there 

 long, before I heard some one beside me inquire 

 "how is it you do not join in the singing, Miws 

 Warbikgtos?" I turned and beheld Pekcy, At 

 first I could not speak — smiled and muttered on 

 excuse about the sleeping child. Perceiving my 

 embarrassment, his gentle manner re-assured me, 

 and I soon conversed with ease. We discoursed a 

 long time, until the envious eyes of others warned 

 me that I was perhaps treading on forbidden 

 ground— that there were some who thought I was 







e of the 



of tbe honored visitor. Tbe visitors were 

 rapidly diminishing, and consigning my self- 

 imposed charge to her friends, I arose to depart — 

 not, however, until I had given Pkkcy consent to 

 accompany me home. I loved him then, but he 

 knew it not,— thai was a great secret bidden deep 

 in my heart. 



Chapter IV. 

 Several weeks possed, and I daily went to my 

 little school with a cheerful heart — for I was happy. 

 But that happiness was too bright to last. From 

 the night of the party, Percy had shown me a 

 great deal of attention— had visited me many times 

 — but only to increase the jealousy of those more 

 wealthy than myself. Kate Lawtos, the belle of 

 the village, see'iDg her many attractions slighted, 

 had circulated a report that I was maneuvering to 

 gain PsncYa affections. Instantly my pride was 

 roused, and I then thought I would "sec him no 

 more. One night, after school was dismissed, I 

 hastened homo to tell my aunt that I was going to 

 visit one of my pupils who was ill, so that she 

 would not be alarmed at my absonce. It was a 

 lovely doy, but my thoughts were lather sorrowful, 

 and before I was awure I had arrived at Ihe place 

 of my destination. I found the mother of the child 

 to be ii highly educated lady, and hud entered into 

 conversation with her until I had remained much 

 longer than I intended. I was just preparing to 

 depart, when I heard approaching footsteps. I 

 looked and Panax was standing before me. My 

 first impulse was to receive biin kindly as I bad 

 always done, but when I remembered my resolu- 

 tion 1 turned very coldly and said, "good evening, 

 Mr. Reynolds, I did not expect to see you here." 

 lie did not appear to notice my manner, but spoke 

 very pleasantly and asked if 1 was ready to go. I 

 told him I believed I was. He informed mo he bad 

 called at my aunt's to see me, and when he found 

 where I bud gone, he thought I would Dot be ab- 

 sent long, and had started to meet me. I was very 

 silent and reserved, though my heart yearned to 

 speak to bim as I had done. I thought il would 

 be an easy matter to stifle my affection— hui nloal 

 I little knew my own heart. When we orrived at 

 home ho said he bad noticed my manner, and 



inquired the came of it — but pride revoltct 

 confession, and I would give no explanation 

 said he bad something to tell me, but as I v 



"good night," and I was alone!— I thought i 

 forever! Several weeks passed, and I at 

 heard nothing from him. RnmorB began 

 circulated that be bad gone to New York, and 

 rumor proved to be correct,— be had gone 

 without bidding me "good bye." Bitterly 

 did I regret my conduct, but it was too la 

 thought of the many pleasant hours I bad 

 with bim. I thought and judged, from my 

 experience, that it was a cruel world, with here and 

 there a few hours' happiness, and the rest dimmed 

 with sorrow's tears. Now and theu some tboughi 

 would awaken its buried melodies, and then, in tbe 

 Badness of its desolation, would yield the sweete; 

 music, because most bruised and broken, even n 

 the flowers, when crushed to the earth, yield thei 

 purest fragrance. I bad been sitting one evenis 

 more sad than usual, when I was told that so m 



.c'.mI i 



edvd r 



who it was, for well I knew 'twas he in whom my 

 soul most delighted,-even Percy. I mel 

 kindly then — for time and absence bad changed 

 me. LoDg and freely we conversed. I tol 

 all, and though he chlded me, it was so very gently 

 that I kDew I was forgiven. He told me of the 

 affection he had cherished for me — asked mi 

 my heart and band, and the love I had so long 

 cealed from htm was at once revealed. A 

 short weeks sufficed to make all the preparuti 

 and we were married, quietly, for such bad I 

 my request. We had not been long united, when 

 I received a letter from my sister stating that she 

 was married, and that my mother was dead— died 

 without knowing the value of wasted affection- 

 without knowing the worth of that love which 

 would have been so freely given. This thought 

 sometimes sweeps like a shadow across tbe 

 light of my path, but the aDgel of love has i 

 ened new melodies, filling my heart with pit 

 thoughts of bliss and happiness. No dark 

 obscures the beams of my present joys, but calmly, 

 peacefully, with my chosen one, I wait the 

 mons which shall call me to a laud of love 

 name is Heaven. Lida J. Leadbbai 



Dexter. C.W., 1659. 



SALMAGUNDI. 



To dream gloriously, yon must act gloriously 

 while awake. 



A woman who wants a charitable heart, wa 

 pure heart. 



No bouse is big enough for two wits to lii 

 together. 



Rbverence and Love arc the opposite pol' 

 the mind. 



Common conversation is the best mirror 

 person's mind and heart. 



Hb is a first-rate collector who can, upon all 

 occasions, collect his wits. 



Most people seem to think that advice 

 physic, to do good must be disagreeable. 



TneitEis thought to be very little use in ai 

 well, if he cannot express his me 



by his 





smyr. 



■ the t 



Faith is the key that unlocks Paradise and h 

 a flood of joy into tbe soul. Faith appropriates 

 all to itself.— Tltotnas Brooks. 



When God teaches thy reins as well as tby 

 brains, thy heart as well as thy head, these les- 

 sons are all in love.— TAoma* Brooke. 



Tun human heart, like a feather bed, must be 

 roughly bandied, well .shaken, and exposed to a 

 variety of turns, to prevent its becoming bard. 



At an evening party, a gentleman carving a 

 chicken asked a lady what part she preferred. " I 

 will take a foot haudle," she said. 



I inn rather never receiveakiuiiness than never 

 bestow one; not to return a benefit is the greater 

 sin, but not to confer it is the earlier 



One always receiving, never giving, is like the 

 pool, in which whatever flows remains, whatever 



"I really believe, husband, that you and your 

 fellows will cut up everything we have got." 

 "Ob, no we shan't, wife; m mean to drink a part 

 of it." 



now it comes thit people who write "prize 

 odes" are never heaid of afterwards ? Who will 

 answer? We Insert the above for two reasons— 

 ; and second, because 



first, 







[1 .1 with your friend, 

 before you can possibly think for him. There is 

 ore need of keeping this in mind, the greater 

 )U know the dilleieucc to be between yum Incini's 

 Uiim: tliL.ii yu,ir Mwn.— F. "<'■■■ "I I-' <■■■">■' . 

 GooIoveStf) lade 1 lie wings of prayer with the 

 choicest and ch iciest blessing, Many Christians 

 have fouud, by experience, praying times to be 

 sealing times. They bava found prayer to be a 

 shelter to their souls, u sm-rilice to God, n sweet 

 'hi ist, a scourge to Satan, and an inlet 



weak in grace has as much interest in 



the Lord us the strougest saint has, though he 



the skill to improve that interest. And 



this a singular comfort and support? 



Verily, were there no more lo hear up a poor, 



eak saint from fainting under all his sins, and 



rrows, and suffering*, yet this alone might do 



— Themu Brooke, 



A Mormon is a living paradox. He says grace 

 iforea cotillion, swears in his sermons, selects 

 s texts inditk-rently from the Bible, the books 

 of Mormon, an almanac, or the President's Hu- 

 ge, aud is perpetually quarreling for the sake 

 Of peace, Ilia religion is a joke, and ho makes 

 itory -teller a chief of tbe quorum, lie 

 dignities, but ban not the slightest 

 respect for them ; and the effect of his piety is to 

 put him on a level with the greatest reprobate ol 

 ■ue. In short, be is the Latter-Day Saint; 

 other words, the last one you would think 

 of calling a Saint. 



lOtt anb ffjumor. 



A CHBI6TMAS TALE. 

 jo teat century was flourishing, 



i Eve of one of those old- 

 ;h were so bitter cold. Tbe 

 she bugged 



" IfB a terrible cold night, Scip. I am a f raid 

 my poor neighbor, widow Green, must be suffer- 

 ing. Take the wheelbarrow, Scip. Fill it full of 

 wood. Pile on a good load; and tell tbe poor 

 woman to keep herself warm and comfortable. 

 But before you go, Scip, put some more wood on 

 the fire, and make me a nice mug of flip." 



Theso last orders were duly obeyed; and the 

 old lady was thoroughly warmed, both inside nod 

 out. And now the trusty Scipio was about to 

 depart on his errand of mercy, when his consider- 

 ate mistress interposed again. 



"Stop, Scip. You need not go now. 77,4! 

 weather has moderated," 



Br/: 



Uncle Will—" Yea, sir." 



Lawyer— "Well, what sort or a fence was it?" 



Uncle Will (holding in)— "It was a Bnncombe 



Lawyer (thinking he had cornered the old 

 gent)— "Now, Squire, will you oblige the court 

 by giving your definition of a Buncombe fence?" 



Uncle Will— "A Buncombe fence, sir, is a fence 

 that is bull strong, horse high, and pig tight !" 



Uucle Will was dismissed from the stand, and 

 retired with flying colors. 



GEOGEAPHICAL ENIGHA.-ACROSTICAL. 







,15,80,8 D a river in the Unit.' 



My ■>, ■::.. 1 ,, ai, 27 la a county in Teooewee. 

 My S, S3, 7, 25 Is a lake tn the United States. 

 My 4, 2, 88, 8, 25,1,8,28,2'.!, 21, 30 Is three mounlalr 



Mr D, 82, 85, 81, 88, B, 24, T, 5 ts an liland In Occanlca. 

 My 6, 3, 80, 24, 20, U, 9 li an island In Oceanica. 



My 7, 12, &Ua town In South Ame.i-a. 



My 8, 3, 32, 35, 30 | fl a river in tbe United Slates. 



My 9, 83, 8, 30, 8, 20, D, 27 Is a town in the United Stole 



My H.«, .:; ■;. ■_■ i, 20, ,',, S, .'is is a town iu Europe. 



United Stole*. ' 



My 12, 0, 30, IB is a county in Georgia. 

 My 18, 83. 1, 2, 3, 83 Is a town In France. 



My 15, 23, 7, 12, 3 is a group of islands in Oceanica. 

 M y 10. 5, 2J is a river in England. 



My IS, 8, 24, 15, 10, 21 is a county In Virginia. 

 My 10, 1 0, 82, 33, 15 is a town in France. 

 My 20, 10, 5, 21, 27 Is ;i Penn.-ula In Europe. 

 My 21, 27, 5, 35, 15, 20 is a like In Africa. 

 My 38, 4, 88, 5, B, 1, 18 is a Strait In Europe. 

 My 23, 9, 8. 6, 35 Is a gulf in South. America. 

 My 24, 7, B, 14 Is a mountain in tbe United Slate*. 

 My 25, 38, 7, 8 Is a lake in the United Stales. 

 My 26, 5, 24, 1,7. 12 is a sea in Europe. 

 My 27, H2, 8, 14. 5, 13 Is a town In tbe Chinese Empire. 

 My .-, :'.', 'ji, 5 is a river In Ihe Chinese Empire. 

 My 29, in, 12, M, 7, 14 is a river iu the United Slate*. 

 My ZO, 5, 68, 24, 27 is a county Iu Georgia, 

 a river In Europe. 



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KK1GMAS, Ac, HI Ho. 515 



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Inneoo, EoigniB 



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MOORE'S RURAL NEW-YORKEB, 



Agricultural, Literary and Family Weekly, 

 BY D. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER. «■ V- 



Office, Man faulting.. Opposite the foort How. Buffalo SI, 



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