173 
f$orticul. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
“WILL THE LIGHT E’ER COME AGAIN. 
BY MRS, MARCIA W. HBDNOTT. 
Once I watched beside the bed, 
Where a sick child moaned in pain; 
Soon I knew life’s brittle thread 
Would be rent by death in twain. 
Soon I knew the little breast, 
Heaving slow and painfully 
Would be stilled in endless rest, 
And the little sufFerer free. 
’Twns a stormy night and wild, 
Fiercely howled along the blast; 
And the drifting snow was piled 
’Gainst the windows thick and fast. 
Not a star appeared on high, 
Cheering with its gentle ray— 
Darkness veiled the earth and sky, 
’Neath its dreary, leaden sway. 
Slowly passed the hours of night, 
To the patient, suffering oue; 
Waiting for the morning light— 
Watching for the rising sun : 
Slowly settled death’s eclipse 
O'er the dimming eyes, and then 
Murmured she with ashen lips— 
“ Will fhe light e’er come again ?” 
Mqrn at length dawned fan- and bright, 
Chasing the dark storm away, 
Filling with its rosy light, 
The chamber where the dead child lay; 
Gently kissing her pale face 
With its soft sweet kiss of love, 
But she slept in death’s embrace— 
Light had dawned on her above. 
Since that time my path has lain, 
Oft along a thorny away— 
While a weight of grief and pain 
Heavy on my spirit lay : 
Often treading in my sorrow 
Where no light of day appears, 
And I deemed the coming morrow, 
Must be met with bitter tears. 
But that young child’s death was fraught 
To my heart with earnest power— 
And the lesson by it brought, 
Aids mo in the saddest hour. 
When our way the darkest seems, 
When no light to us is given, 
When no star upon us beams, 
We are nearest then to Heaven. 
Mural Ikrtrjj Moak. 
[Written expressly for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE candidate; 
OR, THE ROMANCE OF POLITICS. 
BY CAROLINE CHESEHRO’. 
Tiif.re was a wondrous clashing of opin¬ 
ion throughout the town of Richmond when 
it was known that Mr. Richard Wilkes, 
schoolmaster, was really talked of in tho 
county as a candidate for a high office in 
“ the gift of the free people,”—namely, a 
seat in tho Legislature of the Stato. 
Always is confusion occasioned by the 
naming of any particular individual as a fit 
and proper candidate for any specified office. 
Tho moment a man’s name is fairly out, agd 
people can read it with the consciousness 
that tho eye of tho unfortunate is directed 
towards any one particular point in the po¬ 
litical horizon, alas for him!—multitudinous 
as tho frogs of Egypt come up tho detract¬ 
ors, tho laudators ! Lo ! he is here an An¬ 
gel of Light—but behold ono coineth speed¬ 
ily and claiineth him a refugee from the 
kingdom of darkness !—Woman’s rights ? 
Heaven defend us from sharing in the 
rights which belong peculiarly to tho politi¬ 
cian and the voter! There is room for the 
detractor, and the gossip, tho laudator, tho 
defamer, outside the columns of the Elack 
Mail Daily. Tho sisterhood should aspire 
after another sort of resurrection than is 
vouchsafed the politically dead-and-buried 
politician. 
“ Wilkes,” said some, on recovering from 
the natural and customary amazement into 
which they were thrown, on learning that 
ho was really a candidate, “ Wilkes! that 
know-nothing ! A pretty fool of a legislator 
he’d make! Let him stick to his trade— 
I'll vote for a man that knows how to work. 
None of your dandies for mo ! Fine laws 
he’d frame! Give me your men that know 
how to work, who can stick to a point like 
a dog to a root!—those are the men for 
me.” 
This, it must be confessed, was quite the 
general impression and expression among 
hard-working, driving men, whoso knowl¬ 
edge of the schoolmaster that taught their 
children was the most superficial of all 
knowledge—they had on divers occasions 
some how fastened tho idea in thoir minds 
that he was effeminate and proud, and felt 
above them, and that was enough to make 
them his bitter opponents. Zeal is rarely 
according to knowledge, among tho actors 
of the human race. 
These were the men who had dissociated 
in their minds, tho fact that a man can bo 
a gentlemen and a laborer. They took lit¬ 
tle note of the teacher’s proceedings, ex¬ 
cepting to obsorvo that their sons wero all 
jealous of him—and their daughters- 
reporters of his sayings, and apprcciators 
of his useful accomplishments. 
This was the class of opponents to bo 
brought over by proof and argumont to a 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER.’ AN AGRICULTURAL 
Did you know that Mr. Wilkes had a 
i just consideration of tho young man’s eli¬ 
gibility. They were not stubborn men, 
they were conscientious—they had never 
overcome the notion that legislators were 
I & 
responsible agents, elected for a purposo.— 
| It was not of these men’s opposition that 
Mr. Wilkes stood in fear. He was a student 
of human nature, as well as of books—and 
he knew it was by “moral suasion” that such 
! men wero to be led. 
Taking these facts into consideration, 
therefore, tho reader will be awai’e that 
something very like a victory was achieved 
when one of the oldest of the deacons of 
Richmond, became thoroughly persuaded 
of the high tone of the teacher’s moral 
character; and that he was the man to do 
courageously what was right, if such a man 
wero among the living. 
There appeared to bo a sudden and gen¬ 
eral cessation of opposition among the de- 
preciators of tho candidate, as soon as it 
was known that Deacon Dray had closed 
his hard and stalwart hands emphatically 
above tho assertion, that ho for one should 
encourage learning, and vote for tho young 
man. Every body in Richmond, through 
the length and breadth of that straggling 
country town, know that this characteristic 
clasping of the hands was as good as an 
oath with the deacon,—that a man of his 
standing and strength would not probably 
take an oath, even of that sort, on a trivial 
occasion, or for the support of any unwor¬ 
thy individual, whatsoever. 
Deacon Dray had read both law and gos¬ 
pel to his neighbors many a time, in the 
days when they were too poor to support a 
minister, and often since, when occasion 
presented, as it did frequently; he was by 
no means opposed to tho temporary exor¬ 
cise of authority, such as is conferred by 
the sacred office. He was a man for whom 
a wido spread neighborhood had respect, 
and a certain sort of roverence. To some 
extent, according to thoir understandings, 
both law and gospol wero embodied in his 
character and words. 
The Deacon’s individual household was 
but small. I.t consistsd of himself and wife, 
and thoir two daughters—the eldest of 
whom, Fanny, was as lovely, bright and 
brave a girl, as was ever seen in Richmond. 
The Deacon was proud of his children— 
not proudor, however, than they were of 
him, for their youth had passod, and thek 
education was acquired, in a region whero 
his name was most honored, and his riches 
known for their full worth. They had 
never seen a greator man than their father, 
at least.Fanny novor had, until the eventful 
time whon the toachor, Wilkes, came to 
board his week in their family. Then it is 
true, her eyes began to open, and the throne 
which her father had occupied as the man 
of the universe, began to totter. Would 
not the old monarch of her affections bo 
compelled to a sturdy conflict ’if ho would 
not surrender to another ? 
Perhaps it was tho suggestion of his own 
good sense, or, it may have boon the ambi¬ 
tious prompting of tho mother’s heart, 
which led Deacon Dray to a closer inspec¬ 
tion of the candidate’s attributes, and ca¬ 
pacities, during tho week immediately pre¬ 
ceding his nomination; which week, accord¬ 
ing to regular appointment, in compliance 
with tho “boarding around” system, the 
teacher was to spend in tho Deacon’s family. 
The aspirant took up his abode in this par¬ 
ticular house with the full determination of 
attempting, yet with scarcely an idea of ef¬ 
fecting, a conquest of the old man’s preju¬ 
dices. The Fates also soomed to htrvo an 
idea of befriending him. 
On the ovoning of tho second night of 
the weok, Wilkos sat alono bosido the par¬ 
lor fire, Judy was reading at the table, and 
Fanny and her mother wero busy in tho 
kitchen. The candidate was in a brown 
and solomn study—ho had begun to give up 
his own cause as a hopeless ono, for that 
day the Deacon seemed suddenly to have 
gone quite beyond his reach—and accord- 
. ing to Wilkes’ belief, there was not another 
strong man in tho county on whom ho could 
rely. 
As he sat there revolving his case in his 
mind, while awaiting the arrival of a friend 
whom he was to accompany to a moeting of 
the voters of tho neighborhood, Judy, who 
had been contemplating him rather than 
tho page on which her eyes seemed fixed, 
asked him suddenly, with a child’s irreprqs- 
sible curiosity, which was not to be baffled 
by awe for her teacher: 
“Mr. JWilkos, do you think you will be* 
elected ?” 
Ho turned in his chair with a spasmodic 
start. 
“ I have not tho slightest idea.” 
“ If you were, sir, what would you do, do 
you think T 
“I would go home to tell my inothor.” 
Tho answer so impressed the child that 
she said no more to him, but when he was 
gone, and her mother sat in his place, she 
said: 
mother ?” 
“Wo don’t know anything about his rela¬ 
tions,”—and we don’t care, was added in the 
tone, if not in the words. 
“ I wish ho would beat, any way,” contin¬ 
ued the child, “just for his mother’s sake, I 
wish he would.” 
“What do you know about kerf’ 
“ I don’t know anything about her.” 
“ But what made you speak of her ?” ask¬ 
ed Fanny, when she and Judy were alone. 
“Speak of who?” said tho child, vexa- 
tiously obtuse of a sudden. 
“Mrs. Wilkes. You must, havo heard 
something about his mother, or you would 
never have thought of spoaking of her. 
“I don't know anything about her at all. 
When I asked him what he would do if ho 
wero elected, he said he would go home to 
tell his mother—and so I hope he may have 
the chance.” 
Mrs. Dray, also actuated by curiosity— 
yet it was not quite of the order that influ¬ 
enced Fanny—applied to Judy, when op¬ 
portunity presented itself, the next day, to 
learn the occasion of the wish that Judy 
had expressed, and the filial sentiment of 
tho youth soomed at once to envelop him in 
a glory; his election becamo a point sottled 
beyond all questioning to her mind. 
Tho candidate was a man of discernment, 
he was not long in discovering which way 
the wind was blowing—and certainly he 
never beforo appeared in so clear and good 
a light, to such excellent advantage, as du¬ 
ring the remainder of his stay in that 
household. Probably tho change was not 
so much in himsolf, as in the eyes now bent 
with earnest scrutiny on his character—the 
eyes of tho gazers had doubtless been 
strengthened for discernment. 
Visions ambitious too, now for the first 
time ontored into the soul of tho good 
mother, as her glanco rested on the pretty 
tableaux presented by the figures of AVilkes 
and Fanny, as tho perplexed girl sought 
his counsel, and availed herself of Bis direc¬ 
tion in pursuing the studies she had under¬ 
taken, though a school-girl no longer, at his 
suggestion. In such visions she may have 
seen tho teacher not alone in the occupancy 
of his probable proud stations of the future. 
The Deacon in his single-mindedness 
looked no further into the futuro than the 
possible ovents of the election justified, nay, 
required—but tho eloquence of his wife had 
fairly convinced him of Wilkes’ eminent 
qualifications, and he finally worked for 
him, as he always did at tho last, for the 
man of his choice, with a self-sacrificing 
diligence. 
The opponent of the man of letters was, 
so to speak, no opponent at all. Ho was 
older, but less accomplished, less presenta¬ 
ble, and not nearly so well educated, and as 
soon as all the petty objections to the schol¬ 
arly candidate were dispelled, a general 
laugh was raised at the expense of the poor 
creature who was so insane as to dream of 
representing any portion of tho Empire 
State in the Legislature thereof. 
But—this man also had a friend—as what 
man has not ? Other eyes than those of the 
household of Deacon Dray had been fixed 
with intenso interost on the movements of 
Richard Wilkes—and with a jealousy such 
as never raged in any but a passionate 
lover’s soul, did ho search into the mystery 
of the teacher’s sudden popularity. And 
this was tho result of his discovery—ho be- • 
lioved it to lay in the ambition of a woman 
—to centi’o in the aspiration of a mother. 
Now, Joshua Reed could appreciate such 
ambition, and such aspiration—no man 
more thoroughly—his own quite equalled 
it, though it pointed in another direction, 
even towards the soft brown eyes of Fanny 
—to the heart of tho Deacon’s daughter !— 
and to fight clear of a rival, such as he now 
saw tho “stylish,” intellectual Wilkos to bo, 
he would havo moved heaven and earth, at 
least, ho had will enough to do so. And 
that which made him more desperato in his 
opposition to the candidate, was this,—he 
had once thought it necessary to make but 
the slightest effort to secure the hand which 
now seemed to him as remote as tho hand 
of a princoss, and as difficult to win. 
Do was a daring fellow, keen of sight, and 
of wit. Little danger as to tho success of 
his individual suit, thought he, were the 
candidate but defoatod,—for had not he and 
Fanny boon twin lovers ever since they 
knew what it was to play marriage and mat¬ 
rimony in the woods ? It was not possible, 
he said to himself, that a new love had so 
easily displaced tho old—it could not be 
that the prospect of a successful speculation 
should so turn the heart, head and purnose 
of that young girl; he would not even be¬ 
lieve the testimony offered in her conduct 
towards him, whenever they were at this 
period thrown into each othors society. 
Joshua, as well as the Deacon, was a 
strong worker when thoroughly aroused, 
and that was he at this “olection time.”— 
And he was not of the workmen who are 
AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
content to see their operations made effec¬ 
tual in a time to come. It was Avith tho 
Present and the Now that ho dealt with ; 
the present people in the present hour; he 
would not oven delay his labors until “ tho 
hour that is at hand,” had come. In this 
case lie saw how truly it was now or never 
with him. If the politician were success¬ 
ful, Fanny was to him no longer Fanny— 
and what was legislation and the country’s 
good, compared with this, to him ? 
They were no now facts which began to 
bo talked over again, and more solemnly 
than ever by the hamlet fireside, at the 
husking, in tho bar-room, at tho church 
door. They wero merely facts which had 
wisely been forgotten—people had lost sight 
of the teacher’s unfortunate temper, and 
those other faults which had glared so dis¬ 
tressingly upon their sight during the few 
months of his reSidenco among them.— 
They had forgotten how he lamed the hand 
of Tommy Moore for weeks, with his fer¬ 
rule—hoAv he had whipped tho refractory 
son of a widow, until he, the teacher, was 
pronounced a disgrace to tho faith which ho 
professed in, “moral suasion”—how he had 
signally-failed in all his earlier attempts at 
government, or popularity. All the unfor¬ 
tunate items which made up his first youth¬ 
ful, inexperienced attempts at administra¬ 
tion of school-room laws, which had been 
forgiven and forgotten long ago, and more 
completely still in the new blaze of his pop¬ 
ularity, were now recalled to mind—every 
old wound was opened again by some unseen 
hand, and unaccountably began to bleed 
afresh. 
Sudden, and unlooked for, as a whirl¬ 
wind upon a summer day, was the storm 
that burst upon the hapless head of the poor 
Candidate—viewless as the wind was the foe 
who so successfully labored to turn all 
thought back to his unfortunato govern¬ 
ment, instead of forward to the glory of his 
obvious destiny. Against such covert, sly 
attacks as were made, he could not battle; 
ho could only throw himself, and his cause, 
on the generosity of his constituents. Alas 
for tho unfortunate man ! he walked in slip¬ 
pery places—ho wont through troachorous 
regions. Far, and wido, and mightily, went 
the reproof and the reproach—“ Shall that 
man be allowed to govern, to legislate for 
others, who has not learned to govern his 
own temper?” And the people rendcrod 
for their verdict, “ No.” And thus was 
Richard Wilkes defeated. 
One evening, a week after the election 
was decided, Joshua Reed was on his way 
to Deacon Dray’s house, for the direct pur¬ 
pose of opening a winter campaign,’ longer 
or shorter, whoso great object was a con¬ 
quest of the heart of Fanny. The school¬ 
master’s hopes and designs, he fancied, wero 
by this time thrown into inexplicable, irre¬ 
trievable confusion—he would never recover 
from tho mortification he had been com¬ 
pelled to endure—ho would find it necessa¬ 
ry to make for himself a home in another 
District; to try his fortune in a greener 
region. 
It was late in the season, but tho weathor 
was still mild and beautiful—for many days 
there had been no storm, the ground was 
dry and smooth as in mid-summer—the 
leafless trees* and wilted flowers, alone hint- 
od of the dreariness speedily to come. It 
was a brilliant night—for the sky was cloud¬ 
less, and the moon shone in such heavenly 
splcndor as is peculiar to tho bright, full 
orb. 
Besides Joshua, there were two other be¬ 
ings abroad that night. Fanny and her 
teacher had come out together, to enjoy the 
moonlight, and perhaps to study the Geog¬ 
raphy of the heavens. At all events tho 
eyes of Wilkes were very often directed to 
the far blue heights above him—and ho 
spoke eloquently—of moon arid star ? I 
think not—for why should the girl beside 
him have blushed to listen to a revelation 
of astronomical knowledge ? or why should 
her own soft oyes fix so intently on the 
ground ? was she endeavoring to find there¬ 
on tho counterpart of those great heavenly 
bodies ? Knew she not that all tho yellow 
star flowers wore dead long, long ago ? 
Joshua unawares had drawn very near to 
the young people—ho was arrested in his 
rapid progress by the exclamation of an ur¬ 
gent, strong voice, not presumptuous and 
bold, neither fearful and weak, that said, 
“ I will tell you honestly, Frances. I de¬ 
serted my mother in a passion, and I have 
not dared return to her, though I have 
longed to do so, many and many a tune. I 
have known what it is to be very lonely and 
sad hero, where, but for such a grievous 
recollection of reproach, I might have been 
so happy. When my name was mentioned 
for this office, I did hope that I might be 
elected, but it was merely, or chiefly, that I 
might go back to her, and make my peace 
at homo. I had a sort of pride thinking 
that I could conquer myself in that way.— 
But it is just as well. I am going to see her 
to-morrow, to reconcile myself to hor. It 
is very truo I have only recently learned to 
govern myself—to feel a real disgust for tho 
passionato temper I have indulged in. May 
God forgive the man who has so humiliated 
me by bringing all these hateful recollec¬ 
tions of my weakness and sins beforo this 
peoplo. Ho might havo sought out anothor 
way for triumph. I thank you. Miss Fran¬ 
cos, that you have believed some good to be 
in me, and that you are willing to havo me 
known here as your friend. I think my 
enemies will be shamed into silence, when 
they find I have a friend in you.” 
“You have friends everywhere,” sho said 
—Joshua heard her distinctly, though she 
spoke in a whisper. “I dare say that it 
will mako you a stronger man in the end, 
this disappointment, or this struggle, rather. 
It is not a very great disappointment, after 
all, is it ?” 
“No, you havo been so kind all of you.” 
For a fow minutes he was silent—but he 
could not bo silent long—recklessly the 
words burst from his lips,—“ If I say every 
thing that’s in my heart, what will you 
think ? that I havo imposed on such kind¬ 
ness as ^ou have shown me ? I have some¬ 
thing to say that may not please—that may 
trouble you.” 
“Say it, my teacher.” 
“ If I had won tho affection as well as the 
respect of ono heart in this struggle, I 
should bless tho day that saw my dofeat, and 
tho man who occasioned.it.” 
“What is it?” she asked, not knowing 
what sho ’said—for Fanny understood his 
words as clearly as sho over understood the 
speech of mortal man. 
“ Are you so afraid of my temper, that—” 
“I am not at all afraid of your temper; 
you have only a spirit that becomes a man; 
you are no longer a passionate boy,” she 
said with firm voice, and sincere trust. 
Was he not . J ho embraced her though, in 
an exceedingly boyish manner ! and with a 
passion of pride he made no effort to con¬ 
ceal. And as he walked on with her, arm 
in arm, out from tho orchard wherein the 
cursing, maddened rival remained in his sc- 
cresy, screened by tho trunk of an aged 
tree, ho said unto hor such eloquent words 
as he could scarcely have said, oven in his 
maiden speech in tho Legislative Hall.— 
And he listened to such soft and good re¬ 
plies, as out-weighed in their life-long worth, 
“ the applause of listening Senates,” or the 
thanks of his constituents. 
-What are the successes of our life ?— 
Tho vigorous fruit of off-shoots from grievous 
failure or mortifying disappointment. Many 
besides the triumphant manhood of Richard 
Wilkes have proved that this is a truo af¬ 
firmation. So bo not then disheartened, 
striver; if thy cause be true and just it will be 
prospered, and perhaps never so thoroughly 
and completely as in the hour of apparent 
defeat and real disappointment. 
MUSICAL EDUCATION IN GERMANY. 
In visiting tho school at Schwalbach, the 
first room we came to was that of tho girls, 
who were all learning astronomy. A strange 
preparation, thought I, for the after-life of ’ 
a Nassau female. Who would think that tho 
walking masses, half grass, half woman, one 
meets every day in the fields and lanes would 
be able to tell whether the earth moved 
round the sun, or tho sun round tho earth, 
or if the moon were any bigger than their 
own reaping-hooks? We asked tho master 
to allow us to hear them sing. Great was 
the delight of the little madchens when this 
request was mado known ; there'was a uni¬ 
versal brightening of faces and shuffling of 
loaves; the pedagogue took down an old 
violin from a peg where it hung, and accom¬ 
panied their sweet voices in a pretty, simple 
air, -which they sung in parts, and from tho 
notes. 
The next room was full of little boys be¬ 
tween six and eight years of age. They 
sang a hymn for us, tho simple words of 
which were very touching. As I stood be¬ 
hind one dear little fellow, “ hardly higher 
than the table,” I understood how it'was 
that the Germans wero a nation of musicians, 
and that, in listening to tho rude songs of 
tho peasants at their work, the ear is nover 
shocked by the drawling, untaught stylo of 
tho same class of people hi our country._ 
From the time they are ablo to lisp, they 
aro made to sing by note. My little friend 
in the ragged blouse, and all tho other chil¬ 
dren, had the music, as well as the words 
they were singing, in thoir hands, written 
on sheets of paper. They followed the time 
as correctly as possible, marking with their 
little fingers on the page the crotchets, qua¬ 
vers, rests, &c. 
At Leipsic, the most un-English trait I 
gatliered during my speculations at tho win¬ 
dow this •evening, was a group of little bovs 
playing in the grass-plot outside. They 
were all poor, and a feiv stockingless, and 
were engaged in some uproarious game, when 
in the middle of it, tho little urchins burst 
into tho most harmonious melody, each ta¬ 
king his part, soprano, tenor, bass, &c., with 
exqusite correctness. I saw them jump up, 
and linking each other's arms in true school¬ 
boy fashion, sally down the street vocifera¬ 
ting their song in such time and turio, that, 
but for my initiation into the mystery at the 
Schwalbach school, I should have stared at 
them as so many little wonders. What a 
delightful system is tho music ! as early and 
as indesponsablo a branch of education as 
the A B C. — Souveniers of Germany. 
