• A \ ■ 
a Ha 
IN - 
Written for Moore’8 Rural New-Yorker. 
AN IDLE OBSERVER IN QUEBEC, 
Mu. Editors— I have thought of you fre¬ 
quently during my Bhort sojourn in this foreign 
conntry, and I feel incliued to Beck relief from 
the sobriety (?) which your absence induces, by 
giving you a brief account of what is passing 
here. 
Canada, every year, grows more and more in¬ 
teresting to the people of the United States. 
One would think, to see the great number of 
Americana hero this summer, that an Immense 
committee of observation had come “to spy out 
the land.” I do not refer to those “ spies" who 
have sought refuge here to evade the society of 
United States officers; but I am speaking of 
those who are here as I am, on a summer trip, 
and who may return to their native land with¬ 
out fear or favor. The boats arc crowded 
with passengers, and the hotels are tilled to over¬ 
flowing. The only traveling conveniences which 
seem to bo wanting In custom are the innumer¬ 
able “ wangons,” calashes, etc. In addition to 
the peculiar interest which the discussion of 
annexation has awakened, the presence of Amer¬ 
icans can be accounted for by the truly magnifi¬ 
cent scenery which Canada affords. The natural 
facilities of Canada would tit it for an important 
member of the United States, and I am happy 
to say the sentiments of many of its inhabitants 
are uot averse to such a disposition of them. 
There Is enough, however, in this old city to 
interest your reudera and fill all the space you 
can spare, without generalities. 
This is my first visit to Quebec. The idea I 
had formed of the place, from uumerous descrip¬ 
tions, was no more like the real piaco than 
Ham list's uncle was like his father. As you ap¬ 
proach the city coming down from the South, 
your gaze is greeted only with high banks, lined 
with old fashioned houses, and miles of cut 
timber secured by booms iri the coves along the 
river. The Plains of Abraham are full in view, 
and that portion of the fortifications which 
guards the approach to the city from the South. 
Suddenly the steamer turns, and then the cit y is 
v. »’__ a % .. _ _ . * 
M00H3ETS RTO&jM, MEW-Y0&&EH. 
SA-CRED UNION. — ON THE MO U AT A.I1STS 
HAIL, SACRED UNION. Wedding Song. 
1 Hail, sa-cred 
2 Hail, <ke.. 
un - iou, 
=P= zwz 
zlTzEEL: 
I)cs-cend 
cd from a bove, 
sweet corn-inun-ion, Of hearts in 
■ i ^ 
Hail, sa-cred 
Hail, sa-cred 
un - Ion, 
uu - ion, 
Iies-cend - e<l from 
Des-cend - cd from 
9 I 
- bove, 
- bove, 
y I 
sweet eom-mun-ion, 
sweet oom-mun-ion. 
Of hearts in 
Of hearts in 
ho - ly 
ho - ly 
In blush- ing trust the 
No pain may hide their 
1 V ' 9 
gen - tie kind - )i 
life shall find its 
beauteous bride, 
grow-ing joy, 
v j - J-d 
~m —*—«= 
r £ i 
ness a- greed, 
peaceful way, 
Is fold - cd 
No lone - lv 
safe by man - ]jjpride, "W bile hon - or and nf - fi-c- tion fond, Knit close the 
toil their bauds < o- ploy,bach heart the oth-er s grief shall bear, Its ten - der 
ZzLzjzfcr-tz— f* -1 sn—I-N-—N-J- N * I s r ! -* 
precious bond, Knit close the precious bond, 
gladness share, Its ten- der gladness share. 
z ' /v-f ; * - * ; • ; ;; 
Iliey crown with faith each wordaml deed, In gathering cloud or «uu- ny light.. Their love shall still 
So-rene and fair be-neath th| ray, That beams on no - ble bosoms given, As ear-nest sure 
p i I I p W p ► 
be bright,Their love shall still be bright, 
of heaven,As ear-nest sure of heaven. 
ON THE MOUNTAINS. 
rhrre couutinu* or beaiinuv—slowly. 
"h < * -4*. :-^s1Z'fS;S 
i »i r- i Pi r * k * I 
1 On the mountain, far have I wandered, I5irds of summer there have I seen, 
- O cr the meadows I have been roaming,Thro’t lie woodlands, strolling away, 
3 In tlie gar- den 1 have been walking,Fai - ry forms were shining so bright. 
4 Homeward coming breathing the fragrance,Friends beloved soon have I found. 
I \ I ^ 1 i I^IJ > > ^ M 
Oai- ly singing. Swiftly springing, Ev - er building uests of the green. 
Flowers were blooming,Bees were humming, Beauty filling, blessing the day. 
Frail and slen - der, Clothed with splendor,Winging thro’ the orient light 
Soft and du - teoua, Ualtu and beauteous. Love the day hath happily crowned 
i it • , . \ i 
f*V. 
> 
O 3 
CJ 
F 
guarda the approach to the city from the South. 0ur J cnate - luring the few minutes that 1 The King, apparently well pleased with the 
Suddenly the stcamor turns, and then the city is 8p , 1 herC 1 heanl part of a 8peech in Kngllsh answer, said“ Bravely spoken old man. Now 
is before you. A huge pile of lints, houses, and aDd part of one in Frunch - After this latter ora- I will give you something to guess. Have you 
more substantial buildings, thrown upon the t0r Uad commenced I concluded the Legislative ever seen me before ? ” 
Ilf 
side of a bluff and crowned with most formida- 
ble fortifications, Is the first impression. If you 
wait for the second Impression until you are on 
shore it will not be a pleasant one; for you are 
immediately surrounded by a herd of the nois¬ 
iest and most impudent beings imaginable. By 
the time you have recovered your presence of 
mind you are jolting up a steep hill on a two 
wheeled conveyance called a calash. A few min¬ 
utes bring you to a shabby looking hotel,—uud 
you are assigned to a room in keeping with the 
externals of the building. This introduction 
will prepare you well for the sights we shall see 
after breakfast; for yon have not expected so 
much that the reality will prove a disappoint¬ 
ment, 
A pass is easily obtained whlt-n will admit you 
to the fortifications. A soldles will show you 
around witli the expectation of* r tmvl reward. 
But few Americans would think nf giving their 
guide of a half hour less thau twice his dally 
pay from the English Government. One cannot 
but notice the neatness and order which prevail 
in and about the works. The guns are of old 
patterns, and although they would be useless 
against the long range caunon now manufac¬ 
tured, they are very suggestive or death. I 
would rather be excused from a discussion where 
the arguments of the other sido arc put by op¬ 
ponents with such throats. 
If you tell your driver to take you “ around,” 
Iio will next drive you to tlie “ Plains of Abra¬ 
ham;” and if your driver were such a commu¬ 
nicative Irishman a* mine was, he would tell you 
more than Histsry ever dreamed of. He will 
show you the exact spot where Gen. Woi.fk fell, 
and repeat vrrtmUm his last words; and, if you 
arc attentive, you will hear just the least bit of 
a sigh at the com lusiou. ne will tell you whore 
everybody lives, what is his occupation and how 
lie is getting along, not forgetting even the ten 
der relations of “ lover and loved one.” 
You will ulmost have visited tUo place in vuin 
II you omit the trip to Montmorency. It is a 
beautiful drive, aud this, together with the mug 
nitlccnt scenery which everywhere greets your 
eye, would sufficiently repay you for your 
trouble. The fulls of Montmorency and the 
“ Natural Steps" are no mean objects for your 
admiration, already called out by the broad view, 
the beautiful river and the quaint city in the 
distance. 1 ou will not lull also to notice the 
beauty ol the house plants which adorn the win 
dows of almost every house on tlio way. If you 
are the fortunate acquaintance of Mr. Gkohoji 
B. Haw., the proprietor of the falls and lands 
adjoining, you will uot fail to visit bis mansion 
— unco the residence of the Duke of Kent. I 
don’t know that I have ever been more delight¬ 
ed with a view than when I stood upon his piaz¬ 
za, and looked out upon the broad country, 
here lull lu sight. The distant opposite bank of 
the 8t. Lawrence lined as far as the eye can 
reach with cottages, and sweeping around to the 
point opposite Quebec, presents a scene of no 
ordinary beauty. 
( To return to Quebec. Wo diuo at six with 
“mine host” Russbl, who by the way is an 
American. Ho Is “sound on thu Union ques¬ 
tion,” and seems to monopolize the hotel Intel 
ucss in Quebec. Our friend Hon. J. M. Currier, 
<mo of the members from Ottawa, Invited us to 
visit the Canadian Parliament now In session. 
The Parliament Is conducted alter the manner 
ol that of the “’ome country,” “barring” a 
few tilings necessarily different. The Loglsla- 
Assetnbly would be a more Interesting place for 
me. The French in Canada are very tenacious 
of their language, and they look with suspicion 
upon any movement which tends to supplant it. 
All public notices must be printed in both lan¬ 
guages, according to law. The Speaker of the 
Assembly marches Into the room behind the 
mace, which Is a gilt instrument three or four 
feet long surmounted with a carved crown, a 
cross and globe. He is dressed in a black robe. 
The Government Mluistors occupy scats near 
the center of the room. The members, many 
of them, sit with their Data on, and although 
there was quite an animated discussion going ou 
between two members and one nf the 
I could see hut few that appeared to pay any 
attention. 
The smoking room, devoted to the use of mem¬ 
bers, is auother novelty in its way. It Is a room 
sixteen or eighteen feet square. About six feet 
from the floor, on the walls, is a double row of 
nails, each nail holding a common clay pipe with 
the member’s name to whom it belongs pasted 
by It. Nearly every' member smokes; but, 
judging from the variety of shades of the pipes, 
I should say some of them are more enthusiastic 
about it than others. We will step out on the 
porch which adjoins tills room, and take a fare 
well look. It is night, and the hundreds of 
ships which lie In the river lend a charm to the 
view with the brilliant display of their lights. It 
is a fitting view to terminate such a day of sight¬ 
seeing. I shall not soon forget the day, and in 
connection with it I shall remember those thou¬ 
sand lights which made the night so beautiful. 
r.. MO G. 
US. 
A CONTENTED FARMER. 
Oncr upon a time, Frederick, King ot Prus¬ 
sia, Burnumcd “ Old Fritz,” took a ride, and 
espied an old farmer plowing his acre by the 
wayside, cheerfully sluglug his melody. 
“You must bo well off, old man,” said the 
King. 
“ Does this acre belong to you on which you 
so Industriously lubor?” 
“ No, sir,” replied the farmer, who knew not 
that it was the King. “ I am not so rich as that; 
I plow for wages.” 
“ How much do you get a day ? ” asked the 
King. 
“ Eight groflehen," (about twenty cents,) said 
the farmer. 
“This is not much,” replied the King. “Can 
you get along with this?” 
“Get along and have something left.” 
“ How is that?” 
The farmer smiled and said “ Well If I must 
tell you—two groschen are for myself and wife ; 
with two I pay my old debts ; two 1 lend away, 
and two I give away for the Lord’s sake.” 
“ Tills is a mystery which I cannot solve,” 
said the King. 
“ Then 1 will solve it for you,” said the far¬ 
mer. “ I have two old parents at homo who 
kept me when I was weak and needed help, and 
now that they are weak and need help 1 keep t hem. 
I ids Is my debt toward which 1 pay two groschen 
a day. The third pair of groschen which 1 lend 
awuy I spend lor my childrou, that they may 
receive Christian Instruction. This will come 
handy to mo aud my wile when we get old. 
ThLaramo “ l 1 “° k ‘“ g b ° dy • fmou - With the last two groschen I maintain two sis- 
I 0 ™ g ‘ ey h “ ttd8 there In ^portion tors whom I could not be compelled to keep, 
io tlio whole number of members thau there are 1 This is what I give for the Lord’s sake.” 
“ Never,” said the farmer. 
“In less thau five minutes you shall Bee me 
fifty times, and carry in your pocket fifty of my 
likenesses." 
“This is a mystery that I can not unravel,” 
said the farmer. 
“ Then I will solve it for you,” eald the King. 
Thrusting his bund into Ids pocket and count¬ 
ing him fifty bran-new gold pieces into his hand, 
stamped with his royal likeness, he said to the 
ostouished farmer, who knew not what was eom- 
lug:—“The coin Js genuine, for it also comes 
from our Lord God, and I am his paymaster. I 
bid you adieu.” 
-♦«* i 
VAGARIES OF SELF-ESTEEM. 
Tub London Saturday Review exhibits the 
difference between the English and Continental 
people in their respective passions for display¬ 
ing peculiar dresses or uniforms. In England, 
the officer, the clergyman, the class man of any 
sort, dolls his professional clothes and hides 
himself in common garb the moment lie is otf 
duty, while ou the Continent everybody who 
has one displays his peculiar uniform on every 
and all occasions. The cause, says the Satur¬ 
day Review, lies deep In the peculiarities of the 
national character. The self-esteem common to 
all human beings takes iu Englishmen a form 
strangely different trom that which it exhibits 
in every other European race. It is more ma¬ 
ture and more self-conscious, and therefore more 
disciplined and more concealed. The self-esteem 
of most foreigners is the self-esteem of children. 
They are vain out of the abundance of their 
hearts, and they make no lUteinpt to impede its 
issue trom their mouths. They do not fear moral 
nakedness. They are perfectly satisfied to lay 
bare to every spectator the workings of the van¬ 
ity by which their conduct is guided, and which 
causes them vexation or rejoiolag. But an En¬ 
glishman’s self esteem Is u more self-reflective 
and vigilant quality. It knows its own naked- 
ucsb, ami is very much ashamed. Desiring above 
all things to be really conspicuous, he Is sensi¬ 
tively afraid of the suspicion tint he is trying 
to be so. 
THE FUNERAL OF A BEE. 
A oohrkscojidkt of the Glasgow “Herald” 
transmits the following:—On Eunduy morning 
lust I had the pleasure of witness ng an interest¬ 
ing ceremony, which I desire to record for tho 
benefit of your readers; am! if Dr. Gumming, 
the “Tlmea’” bee-master, happens to be one 
of them, I would recommend It to his notice. 
Whilat walking with u friend In a garden near 
Falkirk, wo observed two bets laming from one 
of the hives, bearing betwixt then the body of 
a defunct comrade, with which they (lew for a 
distance of ten yards. Wo fillowed them 
closely, and noticed the car wfch which they 
selected a convenient hole at thj sido of the 
gravel walk—the tenderness wifi, which they 
committed the body, tho head ifownwarda, to 
the earth—and the solicitude with which they 
afterwards pushed against it twef littlo stones, 
doubtless In memorlam. Their fosk being end¬ 
ed, they paused for u minute, perhaps to drop 
over their friend u sympathizing tear, when they 
then (lew off from our sight. 
■ ■ ■ *• * ♦ 4 
In a cemetery in Sharon, Conn., Is a family 
lot In which are seven graves arranged in a cir¬ 
cle. Mix stones commemorate six deceased 
wives of I)-s, while tho seventh and more 
stutely slab bears the simple but att'eetiug in¬ 
scription “Our husbuud." 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A CHEERFUL DISPOSITION. 
BY UNCLE TRT.TB. 
As I have been asked to write something for 
the children—something which*they will under¬ 
stand and like—I think that, instead of making 
up a story, I will try to tell, in’prose, one which 
Mr. J. T. Trowbkidoe related in verse to “ Our 
Young Folks” in May last. I.would send you 
the poem itself, if it were not too long for your 
columns. 
Dame Warner lived near a chestnut wood, 
in a inni'ij- anj i ickoly old cottage overhung 
with applo-boughs. She was very poor, and 
with the exception of her faithful dog Ranger 
and au old cat and her kitten, Bho lived alone. 
Winter was coming, and the nights were getting 
to be very cold; and there was no wood on the 
hearth, and no food iu the larder. 
" She had no money In her till. 
She was too poor to borrow; 
With her lame leg nho could uot beg, 
And no one cheered her Borrow.” 
She was sitting one night in the dark, knitting 
ami shivering, and getting very cross and rebel¬ 
lious, as she thought of the comforts of the rich, 
aud the wants and trials of her own hard life. 
While she was grumbling over thesc.thinga, she 
heard Ranger bark, and then a rap on the door; 
but before she could strike a light ithe door 
opened, and a strange voice said: 
“Good evening, Mrs. Warner.” 
When the candle was lighted she held it up, 
and there stood a tall, rough - looking, loDg- 
bearded stranger, with a large sack thrown over 
his shoulder. Mrs. Warner asks him to sit 
down, which ho does. 
“ I have called,” says he, “ because I have lost 
my way, and my lingers ache with the frost.” 
“Tni sorry 1 have no fire,” says the widow. 
“No matter,” exclaims the strange mnu; 
and takiug hold of the sack he gave it a hard 
shake. Out flew wood upon the hearth, which, 
taking (Ire, soon gave a cheerful light and 
warmth to the room. This was such a wonder¬ 
ful thing that tha Dame would have been fright¬ 
ened if the stratiger had not smiled so pleasantly; 
so she asks, 
“ What can I do for you, kind sir ? ” 
“ I'm hungry,” says the stranger. 
“Alas! ” says the widow, “ I have no food iu 
the house.” 
“ But I’ve enough for both of us,” he replies; 
and gives his sack a second shaking. 
“Out rattled knives, and forks, and spoons! 
Twelve orks, potatoes plenty! 
One large tonp dish, two plates of fish, 
And bread enough for twenty I ” 
Aud, besides this, therefwercjt wo roasted geese, 
a tea-urn and a table. The dishes were all hot, 
and not even a plate wasjjiroken. 
The stranger invites Mrs. Warner to sit up 
and help hcraolf; but sho complains that tho 
room is very small for such a famous tabic. He 
takes his sack and shakes "again, and the room 
begins to tremble. 
“Shake, shako! the worn grows high and Urge. 
The walls arc painted over I 
Shake, shake I out tail lour chairs, in all, 
A bureau and a sofa I ” 
The stranger again invites her to take a scat 
at the tublu; but the Dame declares Lhat all 
these thiuga are too good for her." 
“ Hold on i ” says he, “ wo’ii have a waiter.” 
So ho takes his sack aud shakos it, until the 
sweat is streaming dowu his face. And now 
see what follows! 
His legs were short, his body plump. 
Efts check was like a cherry; 
He turned three times; he gave a jump; 
Hts laugh rang loud and merry. 
He placed his hand upon his heart. 
And scraped and bowed so handy! 
* Your humble servant/ sir,’ he said. 
Like any little dandy.” 
As the widow saw this funny little fellow, sho 
did what any of you, my little readers, would 
have done; she threw herself back in her chair, 
and laughed loud and long. Then up she 
started, screaming—for the room was very cold 
and dark, and Mrs. Warner had been asleep 
and dreaming. 
The stranger and his magic sack. 
The dishes and the flakes, 
Tho geeae and things, had Liken wings. 
Like riches, or like witches i 
All. all waB gone I She sat alone; 
Her hands oad dropped their knitting, 
1 Meow-meow! ’ the cat upon the mat; 
' Mew-mew l mew-mew l ’ the kitten. 
The hearth is bleak, and hark! the creak— 
• Chirp, chirp 1 ’ the lonesome cricket. 
‘ Bow-wow !' says Ranokr to the moon; 
The wind is at the wicket." 
Now tho widow Bits knitting, and sadly think¬ 
ing over this dream; and as she thinks, all at 
once she remembers that she saw written on the 
sack, “A Cheerful Disposition.” Then she 
feels that this dream meant something. 
u I know God sent the dream, and meant 
To teac.U this useful lesson. 
That out of peace and pure content 
Springs every earthly blessing t ’’ 
Mrs. Warner declares that she will make the 
sack her own and shake it herself. She does so; 
and pretty soon everything around her begins to 
change. As she grows cheerful, people begin 
to love her, work does not seem so hard, and 
there is plenty of wood on the hearth and food 
in the pautry. 
“ She always keeps a cheery Are; 
The house is painted over; 
She has food in store, and chairs for four, 
A bureau and a sofa.’’ 
And so it will be with you, dear chil¬ 
dren. If you are cross and fretful, nothing In 
the world will make you happy; everything 
will go wrong with you, and no one will love 
you. But if you shake a little “cheerful dispo¬ 
sition" over your troubles, away they will go ! 
and you will get along as smoothly and happily 
aa can bo. Do not forget, then, to keep a won¬ 
derful sack, and to shake it very often. 
Restitution, as it is a most uecessary so ft is 
one of the hardest parts of self-denial. When 
a covetous heart is forced to vomit up all its 
sweet morsels again, unjust gains are like* a 
barbed arrow. it kills If It stays within the body; 
and it tears and pulls the flesh away with It if it 
be drawn out; as the fox iu the fable, which, 
having crept lu at a narrow hole to feed on Its 
prey, aud being filled was grown too big to 
make an escape at the same passage, was con¬ 
strained to empty and starve himself again 
that he might go out by the same way that he 
came in. 
-- •»» # ■ ■ — 
Beautiful things are suggestive of a purer 
aud higher life, aud till us with a mingled love 
and fear. They have a grariousness that wins 
us, and au excellence to whluh wo involun¬ 
tarily do reverence. If you are poor, yet pure 
and modestly aspiring, keep a vase of flowers 
on your table, and they will help to maintain 
your dignity, and secure for you consideration 
and delicacy of behaviour. 
u Shake, shako, odoo more 1 and from tho sack, 
Out popped a little fellow, 
With elbows bare, bright eyes, sleek hair, 
And trousers striped with yellow. 
It is a good sign to see a man do an act of 
charity to his fellows. It is a bad sign to hear 
him boasting of it. It is a good sign to see 
the color of health on a man's face, it Is a had 
sign to see it all concentrated in his nose. It is 
a good sigu to see au honest man wearing old 
clothes. It is a bad sigu to see them filling 
holes in his window. 
V 
