["Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
NATIONAL HYMN. 
nr v. n. eurvriTS. 
Romsr of nations, to Thy throne 
We lift our souls in grateful praise, 
For countless blcBsangs that bare strewn, 
Like flowers, the wayside of our days. 
In weakness, Thou hast been our friend; 
In fear, Thy presence was revealed; 
In trouble. Thou didst still defend; 
In danger, Thou our sword and shield. 
And now our skies frown dark and chill. 
The mad winds lash the furious sea,— 
O, Master! speak the “Peace—be still F 
As once on stormy Galllloo 
Without Thy help wc fkil at length. 
Unless Thou smile our night remains; 
Fulfill to us in ripened strength 
The promise of Thy early nuns 
We seek no tyrant chains to bind. 
Nor empire for a king's control;— 
Be ours the holy work assigned 
To rend the gyves from limb and soul* 
Oreatly we've sinned, we own Thy rod, 
And peuitent we come to Thee; 
Goo of our fathers, he our God, 
And give our armies victory 
Avoca, N. Y., 18(51. 
Of 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE HEIR OF REMSTEAD PLACE. 
BY F. H. STAttFFKR, , 
author ov dkdik a GLOuD. 4c. wrong and that I am right? 'I 
father's and not mine? To rclinq 
CHAPTER l. a U these broad domains and j 
“ Paul, Paul !” abundance: to walls volunturil; 
There was much of earnestness in that voice. The high social position down to suffc 
tone bad the tremor of anguish — the sharp, deep, to have poverty taunt me at the 
unfathomable agony that suddenly, at times, bursts want to crouch like a ghoul on 
upon the soul — dark in its undefmodiicss — wither- feel —” 
ing and foreboding in its windings lar, far into the “Miriam, you forget our 1 
future. The speaker was a young woman, well its glory, its splendor; you f< 
formed, with large lustrous eyes, and curls that, as consciousness of having done 
they fell uncontined by pin or comb around her oval look the happiness of having ac 
face and white neck, added much to the wild nature exalted and disinterested motive 
of her beauty. sacrifice, the richer the reward to 
“Paul, Paul — cun you, dare you leave me thus? is practically no sacrilice when 
Come back, Paul; please do.” and undergo no privations.” 
A dark form came up the veranda, and stood “You are right Paul; you 
again with folded arms beside the raaidpn in the Your soul is truer to yourself, to 
moonlight ity. There is more rigid sternm 
“Miriam,” he said, slowly, sadly—“1 am here, tion in your nature. You plar 
I came because your heart spoke to me; because act, I do not know what 1 am s: 
your word? bad the sweet silvery chime of the days bewildered. The ordeal is too 
agone; because their low tremor told of a love as urge it upon me. Put aside th< 
wild as it is unrealized.” right for once, just for once, my 1 
“I do love you, Paul. Sit down boside me. fortunes witli me., Paul; yield t< 
When you spoke those bitter words — bitter because Low and earnestly the beaul 
of their very truthfulness — and when you turned To the witchery of her voice and 
away trom me, as I thought, perhaps forever, my of her eyes, she added a fond an 
very heart seemed to shrink within me, and a dread Paul’s heart beat tumultuously 
more appalling than the grave rose up in the awful white arms draw him closer and 
stillness of my soul. I felt as if the light had gone “ Did you say your fortunes, M 
out of the earth: as if no song or word of cheer could was something of bitterness in 
make my heart leap in the joyousness of yore. Ido words, and his lips slowly cot 
not iranf to realize my love apart from you; to feel Miriam? 1 am like my names 
that you are lost to me forever; to have my feet yield to the wrong. It was n< 
wander, without a wish to turn aside, (or rather the spoke then—the Miriam enshrin 
power.) ia day-dreams of bitterness, and my head in my soul. It was the voice of 
to sink listlessly at night upon the pillow of its own “0, Paul! you hate me. voi 
despair.” you push me away from you 
“I told you that you loved me. I felt it—I knew bitter! It was the Tempter tv 
it But pride has such a strong hold upon your it was, and he will not get 
soul. Do you know tohy you love me. Miriam?” you will spurn me, my noble Pa 
“I do, Paul— and you know it too. You to you in this? You will remain 
are not handsome, Paul; you are not wealthy, and her eyes earnestly Beannc 
but on the contrary, very poor; success has companion, 
not crowned your efforts in life; a passing ob- "Miriam, you have known 
server would see nothing in you to love or to that knowledge you can adduce 
admire; the dreams of greatness and grandeur “ Then let me think, Paul, bed 
evolving in your own soul — the best of good to sorrowfully again. Let me pro 
God and to your fellow-men — would seem to them brow, this way, and think! Im 
a mystic scroll which a prophet’s eye alone could the noble principles resplendent 
read. I love you, Paul, because I understand you. The young man rested with 
I love your character. I adore the integrity of your railing and awaited the dccisio 
soul. I worship the greatness of your intellect, bap- He looked abroad upon the wide 
tised at the fountain of all good. The essence of doping away off to the river she 
your charntor has become imbued with mine: your grain lying far beyond, like c 
life has l>ecome part of my life. When away from moonlight; here and there the 
you, Paul. I cannot call up your image. No form of tenant houses projecting from 
person, no physical individuality comes to stand above him and around him. in 
beside me. No —it ia your spirit , Paul. A spirit grandeur, rose the mansion, ti 
of white flame, made up of burning thoughts and , structure of the lorldly wealth. 
mur _<I love him not; what right has be to lecture 
me thus, and sit in judgment upon me? But ray 
heart, Paul, my heart, would whisper 1 He is right' 
— and I could not turn nwav from that integrity of 
pou! which, whenever l obeyed, came to bless.” 
“ Could I ask any tiling of you, Miriam, that is not 
right?” 
« No, Paul; yon are too good.” 
“ Then listen to and obey my counsoL Life has 
always been gentleness aud softness to you; you 
have been brought up in luxury—every want antici¬ 
pated, every wish gratitiod. This wealth you inherit 
fr im your father is not yonrs. because it was not his. 
You know this to l»e true, Miriam. For years you 
have boon enjoying what rightfully belongs to 
others—to those who are struggling daily, hourly 
with the most bitter privation and want.” 
“ By law they cannot recover it, Paul” 
“So much greater aud nobler will bo the sacrifice 
on your pari Give up all, my love. Justice 
demands it; the doep-toned voice within your soul 
demands it; and above all, Miriam, God demands 
iL" 
“And you demand it, Paul”— said the woman, 
witli a faint smile. 
I am nothing. Miiuam. I have nothing to share 
with you but poverty, nothing to bless you with but 
my earnest manly love. But 1 cannot wed you if 
you are determined to continue this injustice to 
others. Give up all; bo poor but happy. Let your 
warm, impulsive soul struggle with my soul, and we 
will build up our own crow ning fortunes — and if 
wc fail, the grandness and greatness of our mutual 
love will alone be a temple-like structure, dedicated 
to truth and humanity.” 
“ Paul, my own dear Paul, the straggle is bank 
T cannot crush down this over-awing pride. Can I 
find no arguments to whisper to me that you are 
wrong and that i am right? That Iho sin was my 
father's and not mine? To relinquish all this wealth, 
all these broad domains aud golden presages of 
abundance: to walk voluntarily from luxury and 
high social position down to suffering and lowliness; 
to have poverty taunt me at the door-step, and grim 
want to crouch like a ghoul on the hearthstone; to 
fetd —” 
“Miriam, you forget our love; its richness, 
its glory, its splendor; you forget the delicious 
consciousness of having done right; you over¬ 
look the happiness of having acted under the most 
exalted and disinterested motives. The greater the 
sacrifice;, the richer the reward to your own soul. It 
is practically no sacrifice w hen we suffer no loss, 
and undergo no privations.” 
“You are right. Paul: you are always right 
Your soul is truer to yourself, to God and to human¬ 
ity. There is more rigid sternness aud determina¬ 
tion in your nature. You plan, you resolve, you 
act. I do not know what 1 am saying, Paul I am 
bewildered. The ordeal is too severe: 0! do not 
urge it upon me. Put aside these high notions of 
right for once, just tor once, rny beloved. Share my 
fortunes with me, Paul; yield to me just this once!” 
Low and earnestly the beautiful woman plead. 
To the witchery of her voice and the dewy languor 
of her eyes, she added a fond and loving embrace. 
Paul’s heart beat tumultuously as he felt those soil 
white arms draw him closer and closer to her heart 
“ Did you say your fortunes, M i si am ?” And there 
was something of bitterness in the young man's 
wonts, and his lips slowly compressed. “ Yield. 
Miriam? 1 am like my namesake of old; I never 
yield to the wrong. It was not my Miriam that 
spoke then—the Miriam enshrined aud worshipped 
in my soul. It was the voice of the Tempter.” 
“0, Paul! you hate me. you loosen my arms, 
vou push me away from you 1 O, but this is 
bitter! It was the Tempter who spoke; I know 
it was, and he will not get behind me. And 
you will spurn me, my noble Pai l if 1 do not yield 
to you in this? You will remain forever inflexible?” 
and her eyes earnestly scanned the face of her 
comp anion. 
"Miriam, you have known me for years; from 
that knowledge you can adduce your answer." 
“Then let me think Paul, before you go away so 
sorrowfully again. Let me press my bands to my 
brow, this way, and think! imbue me, Paul with 
the noble principles resplendent in your own soul." 
The young man rested with his hands upon the 
railing aud awaited the decision of lus companion, 
lie looked abroad upon the wide domains; meadows 
sloping away off to tbe river shore; fields of waving 
grain lying far beyond, like dark patches in the 
moonlight; here and there the white gables of the 
tenant houses projecting from the shrubbery; and 
above him aud around him. in its stateliness and 
grandeur, rose the mansion, the crowning super- 
darkest niche in the temple of your soul, to be 
brought out to be worshipped — when?’ 
“Never, Paul, n/ r; or rather, when you are 
willing to yield in this.” 
“So be it then, Mtiu v« —and be- it yours alone to 
suffer. I shall forget all; the bitterest pang has 
even now been felt This false step has robbed 
your life of all its spiritual grandeur; it seems to 
spread over yon like the touch of the hideous leper.” 
“ Anything further, Mr. Dbvarkux ?’ asked 
Miriam, rising to bei feet, her eyes flashing fire, 
“Aye, bite your lip. and give the rein to that 
untauiod glance! Straighten yourself up in your 
queenly pride and still haughtier disdain : your 
wonder at the earnest pathos of yonr words, and the 
unlettered found them of that eloquence which the 
most ignorant can understand — tbe eloquence ot 
truth, Paul. The aged l ent their heads to listen, 
and the glow of interest deepened upon the cheeks 
of the young. Eyes flashed with delight, with 
earnestness of purpose, with fixedness of resolve, 
with gratification and understanding. Mine, Paul, 
spoke pride—pride of you. Nay, do not chide me, 
or smile so meaningly. I mean what I say; it is in 
my heart, and it must come out And since then you 
have been earnestly, zealously engaged iu the path 
of your duty—blest of God, if not of men. With¬ 
out show or ostentation, without pride or vain glory, 
Wri xnti i'itiuiun’ 
HUMORS OP WAR. 
whole soul is thrown into this one grand effort of you have been continually exercising a lasting influ- 
A Slave Advertising his Master. — By the 
following it will be seen that the “contrabands” 
have begun to advertise for (heir runaway owners: 
! me, 
is in $500 Reward. —Rund away fro’ me on do 7th ob 
dis month, my massa Julan Rhett Mossa Rhett aua 
you (j vc feet, ’leben inches high, big shoulders, brack bar, 
path curly shaggy whiskers, low forehead, an* dark face. 
V ith- Do make big fuss w hen he go ’mong de gommen, he 
, talk ver big, an’ use de name ob de Lord all of de 
lor y’ time. Calls hisself “Suddern gen,man," but 1 s’pose 
nflu- will now trv to puss hissclf off as a brack man or 
i . i ft lil . i i - L! 
wf AJ UJV, »B 11*4 V ** ~ £> * g » ' . I - 
indifference — and you know it How will it be ence upon those around you,—the influence of mulalter. MasSa Rhett hab a deep soy on him 
.... *l:, r.i . i_mmnst (timxrht.a. r>f rhoerino wordn. of ffr-od deeds. *hoilhlei'from u fig it scratch ciO'S do Id i'Ve, made 
when this false heroism, thispaoek fortitude, forsakes 
vou, Mir iam , when you are alone, when you sit 
in the soil twilight and think, Miriam?” 
They stood looking into each other's faces; the 
one rigid, stern, defiant: the other calm, sorrowful, 
earnest Miriam’s eyes were tbe first to quail and 
seek the floor. There was a deep burning look ot 
reproach and regret iu Paul’s spiritual eyes; their 
glance, BO searching and so thrilling, it seemed to 
pierce her very soul. 
“Miriam,” he continued, "as you have intimated, 
we part to-night forever. 1 admired a gorgeous 
landscape, and the drapery of night wrapt it from 
my gaze; 1 gazed upon a beautiful painting, and,the 
artist, with one sweep of his brush, robbed it ot all 
its glory; 1 heard a low sweet melody float out upon 
earnest thoughts, of cheering words, of good deeds, 
Paul For this bless I you now, as God and man 
will yet bless you. And you have been so kind to 
me, Paul You are kneeling by my side to-night; 
you have prayed for me so strongly, so fervently, 
that it seemed to me a golden ladder was lowered 
into the room upon which you and I could have 
gone up to Heaven. But Paul, as I am growing 
weak, I have something to tell you. Perhaps it may 
not matter now. Well,—as you seem satisfied, l 
will tell you. How tar can you think back, Paul? 
Can you remember no time when your eyes beheld 
much more of beauty witbiu yonr home than now?” 
“Our home has always been beautiful to me, my 
mother, bwause you were, yourself, its guiding, 
glorifying stir. The strong faith within your heart 
by my Dinah when he try to whip her. lie neber 
look people in de face. ’ I more dan spec he will 
make track for Bergen kounty, in de I'urrin land ob 
Jarsey, whar I ’rnagin' he lm)I a fi-w friends. 
I will gib four hundred dollai'? for him if alive, 
an* five hundred dollars if anybody show him dead". 
If he cum back to his kino niggas wirlout much 
trnbhle, dis chile will reeebe him lubbin’ly. 
Beaufort, S. C., Nov. 9, 1861, SaMDO KirBTT. 
Generous. —Soon after the fall of Sumter, Jeff. 
Davis telegraphed the following couplet: 
“Witli I’sixIran, mortar, and petard. 
We tender Old Abe our Beau-regard.' 1 
No one then exactly appreciated the point of tlJis 
well in tondeal joke, but now “ we see it." Of course 
“ Jeff." alluded to Fort Beauregard, at the entrance 
of Port Royal, which old Abe accepts, with many 
the air, I bent forward to drink in its deliciousness, was iny spiritual food, and the unerring counsels of thanks “1 aixhans, mortars, petards, and alL 
words and glances that I have read and heard and 
felt — deep, quiet, holy teachings of you inner life. 
They fill up the room with a brightness from which 
I half wish to break, and within which 1 yet half 
wish to stay; the one because 1 feel my own nothing¬ 
ness by comparison, and the other because I love its 
kindling rays, and because ray heart 'whispers—"it 
is Paul; Paul the noble; Paul your own beloved!’ 
O. Paul! bow can I foil you? It is just as if, when¬ 
ever you think a great thought, or say a burning 
sentence, or do a good deed, some aurora or 
And did not the Tempter whisper to him? No; 
and yet had he done so. the stern, unflinching 
nature of Paul would have been soulless as 
adamant to bis seductive voice. 
Miriam Lee was sole heiress of all the wealth 
around her—or at least the possessor. Her father 
had been a year in tbe grave, and the household 
was continued under her guidance, as before. But 
that father, erring though beloved, had not come by 
his possessions justly ; they belonged to another. 
Miriam knew it. and Paul Devareux knew it; and 
spiritual essence were to issue from you; and that in its restoration he wanted to make the final exper- 
thesc. in my silent thoughts of you, would come 
back to me and shape themselves into a glorious 
form, to which my heart tells me it would not be 
idolatry to kneel. O, Paul! my love will either 
brighten or darken all my life—either bless or curse 
me forever!” 
And the beautiful girl covered her face with her 
hands and wept. 
•• Miriam.” said the young man softly, taking her 
hands down from her face and holding them within 
his own. and looking straight into her eyes. “ Miri¬ 
am, listen to me. Do not say that yonr love will 
curse you. Holy love never errs; do as your love 
dictates to-night, and believe me. you will do right. 
Say, rather, your pride w ill curse you." 
“ Yes, Paul it will lie my pride. I am proud.” 
“ God bless you for saying that!” cried the young 
man, and a smile lit up his homely face until it 
seemed positively beautiful. "You are already, by 
that confession, far less proud than you were 1 >efore. 
Pride rarely stoops to concessions. Now listen to 
me, MrRiAM. Need I tell my love over to you 
again?” 
“ No. no, Paul; 1 know you love me, with a love 
calm, holy, spiritual, eternal as the skies.” 
“Have I not always been very kind to you. 
Miriam?” 
“ Always very, very kind. Paul” 
“Have I ever erred in my counsel to you, 
Miriam?” 
“ No, you have not My spirit has ever grown 
more beautiful, more etherialized through compan¬ 
ionship with yours. True, my pride would often 
revolt against your counsels. My lips would nutr¬ 
iment of his pow er over her and her fitness to enjoy 
a union of spirit with one so noble as his. 
Paul though poor, was rich in jirinciple and 
strong in the integrity of his soul: a poor clergy¬ 
man, but ever ready to struggle with the actualities 
Of life, and one destined finally to reach a position 
of respect and affluence. 
Beautiful, indeed, looked Miriam, as she sat in 
the quiet moonlight. Her dishevelled hair added 
only to her picturesque beauty; and the diamonds 
on her tapered fingers scarcely glittered brighter 
than her trickling tears, ner bosom heaved, and 
now and then a barely audible sigh broke the still¬ 
ness. At last she raised her head and looked fixedly 
into Paul’s face. Long and stern had been the 
snuggle between pride and love, duty and desire, 
“Miriam,” said Paul searchingly reading her 
countenance, “have you decided:" 
“I have,” she replied, looking up. Her counte¬ 
nance was dark and fixed — almost rigid; the eyes 
seemed far less expressive of the soul, and there was 
a scarcely perceptible quiver of the classic lip. 
-Miriam.” said Paul pushing back the mass of 
dark curling hair from his high forehead — with the 
movement seeming also to obliterate all traces of 
the expression of pain and disappointment which 
had for a moment rested upon his features — 
“ Miriam, you need not tell me in so many words 
the nature of your decision. I can read it in your 
countenance; I can feel it, as it were, in the air 
around me. just as I would feel that it is cold. I 
can learn it in your eyes. Miriam; they are cold, 
dull, destitute of their old truth and inspiration. 
Y T ou have set away the memory of your love in the 
aud 1 was flushed: I knelt—” 
“You may kneel now, and apostrophise to the 
moon, Mr. Dbvarkux,” interrupted Miriam as she 
swept disdainfully past, entered the great hall of 
the mansion and disappeared amid its gloomy 
depths, 
Paul gazed upon her retreating fora until it was 
lost to bis vision, and standing silent for a moment 
his soul supplicated help from Him who is to the 
Christian in affliction as the shadow of a great rock 
in a weary land. Kneeling there, the soft moonlight 
adding its trunquilizing influences, he plead with 
that spirit of love and faith which has power with 
God. Earnestly did he pray that "she who was his 
heart's delight might be shown when pride cometh 
then cometh shame; that riches profit not in the day 
Of wrath: that the integrity of the upright shall 
guide them, but that the perverseness of tbe wicked 
leads to destruction.” Nor did he forget bis own 
need of Divine assistance. "Having renounced the 
hidden things of dishonesty, not walking in crafti¬ 
ness,” be besought “ needful strength from the Source 
whence cometh all our help. That this affliction 
might only work out for him *a far more exceeding 
and eternal weight of glory.’ ” When he arose, his 
countenance wore a calm, spiritual light, which gave 
evidence of peace—proof that ineffable sweetness 
had been intermingled with his cup of sorrow. 
Tailing a hurried glance at the towering mansion, 
he bent his steps down the gravelled carriage-way, 
while Miriam watched bis departure from an upper 
window. Soon he receded from her view, aud there 
rose to her lips Pail's ejaculation, ‘We part to¬ 
night forever!” And the echo gave back naught 
but the rad word, "forever!” 
CltAUTEU II. 
It was a dark, cheerless night. No stars twinkled 
in the sky.— no rays of moonlight lit up with silver 
the unbroken sea of cbimnies and high peaked 
roofs.—no vehicles thundered over the rough streets, 
— but ever.and anon the tread of rapid feet came up 
from the pavement below. Tbe wind howled fear¬ 
fully through the deserted courts and narrow pass- 
way a— now driving the rain vehemently against 
the clammy winnow panes, then veering away, 
leaving a momentary lull, in which the monotones 
from the dripping eves sounded disagreeably on the 
ears, and again making an attack more reckless and 
defiant than before. Close the windows, and a 
sultry, sickening atmosphere filled the room; open 
them, and the gusts of wind extinguished tbe lights 
aud tbe raiu flooded the floors. Altogether, it was 
one of the most disagreeable nights that ever visit 
us in the gentle spring. 
In a dark, lowly attic, in the suburbs of New York 
City, ou this night lay a female, an elderly woman, 
at the point of death. Perhaps the attic was more 
cheerless from the circumstances without than those 
within: for though not luxuriantly furnished, it was 
certainly comfortably so. Neat white curtains were 
stretched across the windows, or rather apertures for 
light; a plain carpet covered the floor, and on the 
table, where the light flickered, were books, papers, 
busts, and oilier evidences of literary taste and 
culture. A bureau, a settee, and a few chairs com¬ 
pleted the furniture of ihe room, save a magnificent 
portrait.— strangely out of place in that dim old 
attic,—with its heavy gilt and elaborately carved 
frame, By the bedside, with one wan hand of the 
sick woman in his, and the oilier gently parting the 
hair from her white brow, knelt Paul Dbvarkux. 
“Paul, my son,” said the woman, slowly, faintly, 
“ I am dying'" 
“ 0 , ray not so. my mother!" cried the young man, 
a tremor of deep anguish in his voice, “ God may 
spare you for yet many years to me.” 
“No, Paul, it cannot be. Tbe measure of my 
days is full; already my pulse beats low and dull; 
your love better than raiment But, as you say, I 
have dim recollections of a more luxuriant home. 
It often comes upon me like a half-forgotten dream. 
I can shade my brow with my hands, and it gleams 
up away down in my child-memory. It sometimes 
is like the taint glimmer of a star, but oftener like 
tbe gloaming of the twilight 1 have recollections of 
a stately mansion, of gorgeously furnished rooms, 
flashing lights, sweeping curtains, mirrors reaching 
to the floor, and other insignia of wealth and high 
social position. And with it all, comes an imago, as 
1 must have seen you once. A woman in the zenith 
of her beauty —still standing within the brilliancy 
that flooded the threshold of your womanhood. 
You stood on the porch, attired in a riding habit— 
and I know that the stately, commanding-looking 
man who held the chafing horses by the gate, was 
my father. It may have been but a childish dream, 
mother — an idle, vagrant phantasy of the brain.” 
“No. Paul —it was neither a dream nor a phan¬ 
tasy. It was the truth. And we would be still 
living in tb it luxury and abundance, bad we not 
been defrauded of our rights. Have you ever seen 
the Remsfoacl Place?” 
At this question the young clergyman sprang to 
his (feet. His lips grew pallid, his eyes gleamed 
restlessly, aud tllere was something of vehemence in 
his tone. 
“What are you saying, mother? What can you 
mean? What light is rushing with such bewilder¬ 
ment through my brain? You do not mean to say 
that we are the true heirs to the Lee Estates?” 
“Lee!” cried the woman in a tone ot frenzy that 
almost startled the shadows in tbe room, at the 
same time half raising her attenuated form. “ Lee! 
a thousand curses on,—no—no,—what was I about 
to ray. and dying, too! It is gone now,”—and the 
head gleaming with "sands of silver” sank back 
upon the pillow again. 
•• 0. that I had never heard of this!” cried Paul in 
bitterness, clasping his hands convulsively together. 
A gleam of anxiety flitted across the face of the 
dying woman; but she mistook the cause of her 
son’s agitation. In a low, beseeching voice, she 
said. 
“Paul, corue and kneel beside your mother 
again, and take her hand in yours. So,—that way, 
Paul. Ami you should pray again, Paul There 
is bitterness in your soul; there was iu mine awhile 
ago. but it is all gone Perhaps I should not have 
told you what I did. You will become restless and 
discontented: the yearning for wealth and power 
will grow in your heart; you will curse the circum¬ 
stances that threw you out of the true channel of 
your life,—that interposed to warp your destiny. 
And I will not be here to guide you with my coun¬ 
sels. You are trembling, Paul" 
“lam agitated, mother.” replied he, in a low 
tone, almost a whisper. “ But it is not at what you 
suppose. 1 will not bemoan my fate; I will not 
yearn for wealth and power; my wealth shall ever 
be in the love ami tbe goodness of God, and my 
power the power of uprightness and faith. It is 
better for all, that I know what you told me. I did 
know it in part: but I did not know that we were 
the rightful heirs.” 
“Not we, Paul, but you —for I am dying now.” 
“ Mother, let us pray.” 
And again the deep, earnest voice of prayer filled 
the dim old attic, that home sanctuary where lay a 
waiting voyager by the river of death. The wind 
howled fearfully without. The rain beat against the 
casement and came in under the sills in murky 
streams. The storm within,— the storm in the 
hearts,— was stilled. 
“Mother." raid Paul, after some minutes of 
silence. “ can you give me further particulars of this 
affair?” 
“ I can. and shall do so in as simple a manner as 
possible. Y'our father, Nestor Devareux. was a 
The New York Sunday Times gets off tills hit at 
“Yankee Liquors:” 
When Beaufort was taken, (so journals record,) 
They found there one white man — as drunk as a lord — 
And the fellow some mention in story may merit, 
As the only secessionist there who had ipirit. 
For the rest—save some poor contraband cotton pickers, 
Were so Sobered from fright that they ran from their licJcert ! 
A good story is told of Dr. Bellows. Rev. Dr. 
Lotbrop said to him. the other day, that after read¬ 
ing Jeff. Davis' message, he could scarcely keep from 
swearing. I)r. Bellows raid that he had frequently 
felt so of late, and when he did he always took up 
the Psalms of David concerning his enemies, which 
about satisfied him and eased his mind. 
Physical troubles have their compensations. A 
war correspondent of a western paper writes thus: 
“Did you ever have the *yaller j adders?’ I've got 
a few, anti could spare an assorted stock to a small 
dealer. Better get some, for a dime looks like a 
quarter eagle, which is a pleasant delusion.” 
lot the fjtmag* 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
ZOOLOGICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 24 letters. 
My 1, 2, 3, 4, 9, 15,13, 10, 23 is the American crocodile. 
My 8, 19,17, 22, 23 is a fierce and rapacious animal. 
My 4, 6, 12, 23, 19 is a species of the Lemur family of monkeys. 
My 7. 16, 20. 22. 23 is an aquatic animal. 
My 21. 22, 1,11 is a web-footed water fowl 
My 5. 10, 18, 22 is a marine flat fish. 
My 24. 11, 7, 20. 14 is the popular name of a genus of tardi 
grade edentate uuunmaL. 
My whole is a trul saying 
Alabama. Gen. Co., N. Y., 1861. A i. hurt B. Norton 
fit Answer in two weeks. 
-< » -- 
DECAPITATIONS. 
Bkiikad a metal and leave a proposition. 
Behead an article of clothing aud leave a tribe of insects 
Behead a mistake and leave a part of the fi.ee. 
Behead a girls name and leave a girl's name. 
Behead a conjunction and leave a conjunction. 
Behead an obstruction and h ave a plaything. 
Behead an article of clothing and leave a garden tool 
Behead a ruler and leave an agent . 
Behead a luminous body aud leave a sailor 
FW° A nswer in two weeks. 
A PUZZLE. 
Take a Christian apostle, beloved and admired; 
Next, an ancient ludf thousand is greatly desired; 
Then a modem five hundred join on to the line, 
And affix to Die whole what designates nine (9). 
When all this is done, you'll trace out the name 
Of a man w ho has reached high political fame 
Ftir Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore's Kuril New-Yorker. 
GEOMETRICAL PROBLEM. 
Dt.TlRML.VB tlie length of the side of an equilateral triangle, 
which might be inscribed in one of four equal circles, made 
In a larger circle, equivalent in area to 7.2290 acres. 
Castile, N. Y., 1861. V ■ Dw 
Answer iu two weeks. 
and it seems to mu 1 must shut my eyes to peer way p urveyor ; n t jj e Army. Through carelessness, or 
over the dark waters down which my soul will 
shortly glide. Already then? are whispering sounds 
and rustling wings in the viewless air. We have 
struggled hard with the world; we have sufiered 
much; we have been sorely tempted and tried; and 
vet through all, Paul God has been very good to 
us.” 
“Very kind, mother. ‘Once I was young—now 
am I old —yet never have I seen the righteous for¬ 
saken or their seed begging bread.’ ” 
“0, Paul! it makes my heart beat quicker to 
hear you say that; I thought you might think differ¬ 
ently. for you are not Jn tbe sphere of usefulness 
which should be yours so justly and so truly. But 
all is for the lest. Come closer to me. Paul. I 
have always been proud of you. 1 am proud of you 
now. O. how my eyes dilated, how my breath came 
and went, how ray heart filled with calm, holy, lov- 
I ing emotions when you first ascended the pulpit, a 
minister ordained of God. There was a grand, 
spiritual look in your countenance; a light that 
seemed to illuminate the dim recess of the pulpit 
around you; a light that did not come from your 
eves either. Paul: for they were calm, self-possessed, 
melancholy. It was the light ot inspiration, Paul 
I t was inspiration that directed the current of your 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THU LARGEST CIRCULaTKD 
AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY WEEKLY, 
IS PUBLISHED EVERT SATURDAY, 
D. D. T. MOOllE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
Office, Union Buildings, Opposite the Court House, Buffalo Street. 
TERMS IN ADVANCE: 
Two Dollars a Year— ToCluba and Agents as follows:— 
Three Copies one year, for $5 Six, and one free to club agent, 
for $10, Ten, rad one free, for $13, Fifteen, rad i>ne free, for $21; 
Twenty, and one free, for $23. and any greater number at same 
I rate —only $1.25 per copy. Club paper* directed to individuals 
! and sent to as many different I’ost-Ooicee as d •sired. As we pre- 
! pay American postage on papers sent to the British Provinces, 
our Canadian agents and friend* must add 12;, tents per copy to 
the dub rates of the Rural The lowest price of copi -s sent Vo 
Europe, Ac., is $250 — including postage. 
t -v- Tut above Terms and Kates are inwLile. Therefore. 
rather confidence, he did not submit his contracts to i to as many different Kost-Onices :*s red. A* we pre- 
writing' and while he was on business to Europe. ! pay American postage on I-ape re sent to toe Brit!-.. Provinces. 
Col. Lee, by not potter understood 
by me. got possession of the deeds and titles to the Europe> u $- including postage 
estates. Your father died shortly afterward, and the above Tenpe and Bates arc Invariktle. Therefore, 
vou and I were left beggars. There was no way of ^ y person who is not xa agent, sending the c!cb rate $1.50 or 
redress for me, and Lek grew rapidly rich upon 
what was justly ours." 
After some further conversation the woman settled 
down into a sort of a dull stupor. Paul sat on a 
chair and covered bis face with his hands. He was 
at last startled by the low voice of his mother, and 
the ominous death-rattle. 
“Paul, Paul, I am going now ! I can see my 
life slowly assuming its spiritual grandeur. It is 
the form of mv new embodiment, and it stands out 
; in the light of its transfiguration. ‘And the heavens 
opened, and I saw an awakening light, like unto the 
star in the east, and it grew in greatness, approach¬ 
ing to the noon-day sun.’ And my life was lost in 
that brightness! It is getting dark, Paul,— and 
cold. Sohe has left his mother! well!” 
Pauls mother was dead ! [To be continued.] 
While we are coldly discussing a man’s career, 
thoughts.— that breathed itself in words of touching sneering at his mistakes, blaming his rashness, libel- Nkw . Yor ^ ^4 -bre* who volunteer m “ 
eloquence,_in sentences that seemed to assume ing his opinions—that man. in solitude, is, perhaps, rece ;ve gratuiUea. rad cheir tiudaost be apprec^.o. 
embodiment upon the very air. A deep stillness sheddiDg hot tears, because strength and patience Ho travzuxg Aeraw are employed by w .« » 
L Th.smik nf frlvoliiv are failiEE Mm to apeak d» diffieul. wort -d do 
$ 1 . 23-1 for a single copy like pries c-f which ,- $ 2.1 will only 
receive the pa)<er the length of toe the mouoy pays for at full 
angle copy price. Peo;Je who send us .<r« than published 
rates, and" request the raper for a year, or a return Of the 
money, ceomet be actoaanolited — for it would be unjust to 
others to comply, and a great inconvenience to return remit¬ 
tances. The only ioay to get the Rural for less than $2 a year, 
U to form or join a club, 
Thb Cash System is strictly adhere.: to in pub.ishmg tbe 
Rural — copies are never mailed to individual subscribers until 
paid for, and a/ioayt discontinu'd tcAen 2V sv-'^cripUcn term 
empires. Hence, we force the paper upon none, and keep no 
credit books, lonr experience haring demonstrated that the 
Cash Plas is the beet for both Subscriber rad Publisher 
Additio.vs to Cltbs are always in order, whether 5 d ones, 
twos, fives, tens, twenties, or any other number. Subscripticns 
can commence with the volume or any number; but the former 
U the best time, aud we shall send from it for some week.,, unless 
special! y directed otherwise. Please " make a note of if 
Our Ixdccxm y>ts for obtaining subscribers to the Thirteenth 
Volume of the Rural, for 1-fU are or the most Liberal and 
Substantial character Premium Lste. Show-Bills, Ac.. - nt 
free to aB disposed W act as agents. 
Ahy person so disposed can act as local agent for the Rural 
Nrw-Yor,kk. and those who volunteer in the good cause will 
lingered upon the audiance. The smile of frivolity ! are failing Aim to speak 
died upon the lips: the learned hearkened with I the difficult deed. 
I j— sex Pcbusher s Notices ou preceding page 
