W, B. BRaDBCP.Y 
[Concluded from papjo 33>, this No.] 
Mira hesitated somewhat, for she loved the 
white face of the old clock, and until the last 
few months it had struck off the hours with a 
musical chime that was very pleasant, to hear. 
Hut hunger conquered and she took it down 
from its shelf in the corner. As she was carry¬ 
ing it to the table, the clock, as if in anger at 
tho thought of parting with its mistress, gave a 
clear ringing note, which, on account of a broken 
cord, it had not done before for so long a time. 
The sudden noise so startled Mira that the 
clock dropped from her hands and went to the 
floor with a terrible crash. Mrs. Vernon got 
out of bed from fright and came into the room 
to see what was the trouble—which she had not 
been able to do without assistance for weeks. 
When she saw tho old clock In a hundred frag¬ 
ments on the lloor, she sank into a chair with a 
deep groan, while Mnu threw herself upon tho 
lounge and wept bitterly. “ This was our la6t 
hope,” she thought; (l wa ranst either beg or 
starve,” Theu she thought of her poor, suffer¬ 
ing mother, and how unhappy it would make 
her to see her daughter so bowed down with 
grief. So she wiped away the tears, choked back 
the broken sobs, and began to pick up the 
fragments. 
Just, then the bright rays of a winter’s sun 
that had been all day under a cloud, streamed 
through the windows, tilling the room with a 
golden glory. Mm a looked nn with a smile, 
and said — “ Mother, the sunshine tells us to 
1 look on the bright Bide.’ Hut. oh, see here,” 
she continued, “ here is a package of bank-bills 
tacked to the back-board of the looking glass 
and she began to examine them. “ Ten twenty- 
dollar bills, as true as I’m alive ! Oh, mother, 
am I dreaming ?—take them and see if It Is real! 
Two hundred dollars in our house, and here we 
are starving for food! ” 
“ Yes,” said Mrs. Vernon. “ there are two 
hundred dollars, that’s certain. Truly, Aunt 
Written lor Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
IN AND AROUND QUEBEC.—No. IV 
ver moun - tain, I’ve crossed o - ver flood, I have traversed the wave - roll - ing sand; 
BY GCLIELMUM, 
A few minutes drive outside the city wall, along 
a street more modernized than those within it, 
brought, us to “ the battlefield of empire,”— 
The Plains of Abrnbnni. 
In my early reading of history I invested with 
not a little of romance the narrative of Wolfe's 
success upon these Plains,—the cdimblng up the 
steep ascent in the grey dawn of the morning— 
the hot. battling when the two armies met—and 
the eager questioning of the dying victor, 
“Who fly?” And as I sat down where the 
dying chieftain breathed bis life out iu those 
last words—'• Then I die happy”—I could not 
help thinking in how great a degree historic ro¬ 
mance is only a myth. There may be a peculiar 
interest attaching to places once the scene of 
great events—I felt such interest ns I sat there— 
but the actual Present absorbs the dreamy Past, 
and romance is sadly toned down. There are 
some places where all actualities seem miserably 
stupiwhere they cannot exist without jos¬ 
tling History. But actualities have little respect 
for anything. They thrust themselves, or are 
thrust. In, everywhere and at any time; and 
sometimes they seem most ludicrously out of 
character. Think, for instance, of a race-course 
on the Plains of Abraham, where yon and I, in 
our boyhood, somehow got the impression, and 
have foolishly kept it ever since, that History had 
erected her Temple I But the race-course is 
there,— a flnely turned elliptic encircling the 
broad, level reach of upland where the British 
forces formed in line. Nor do I wonder at the 
selecting of such a place for the purpose, by those 
whose familiarity with It rendered them indiffer¬ 
ent to all past associations. It certainly is as 
well adapted to it as for the raanoeuvoring of 
embattled hosts. What a splendid base ball 
ground It would make, or a dozen of them, for 
that matter! But they don’t play base ball In 
Quebec, that I know of, and wo can’t import the 
Plains. What a pity we cannot! They would 
sell well here, divivided up Into email sections 
to suit purchasers ! It would be a novelty, too, 
among curiosity seekers. That’s an idea for 
some enterprising genius, and I throw it in 
gratis. 
The Upper Town has stretched itself along 
the upland some distance outside the wall, and 
cottages, the arcitectnre of which is a curious 
blending of the past and present, are scattered 
here and there along the swell of land which 
appears to ho the eastern boundary of the Plains 
proper. This land-swell reaches northward 
from the bluff bounding the river, and breaks 
the continuous level of the smooth, lawn-llke 
plain by a rise of a few feet. 
Along this line, and overlooking thus their 
daring foes, were drawn up the French forces 
under Montcalm, The line of battle Is dis¬ 
tinctly marked out by the Martello towers which 
stand as outposts to the city’s defences, and the 
positions of tho opposing armies may be traced 
readily. The new Jail, a massive and quite Im¬ 
posing edifice, stands about where the center of 
the French line must have been posted. It is 
only a few rods from where Wolfe died, as the 
spot is indicated by the monument erected to 
his memory. This may be said to bo the second 
edition of a memorial tablet, as the inscription 
upon it will explain. The monument is very 
near the rising ground, scarce a pistol-shot re¬ 
removed from the position occupied by the 
French. It is a granite shaft, thirty feet In 
height and four feet square at the base — chaste 
and simple in design—and bearing upon one 
side this inscription: 
This Pillar was Erected 
By the British Army in Canada, 1849. 
His ExcellEnct 
Lieut. Gen. 
Sir Benj’n. D’Urban, 
G. C. B. K. C. H. R. C. T. S. &c., 
Commander of the Forces, 
To replace that erected by 
Governor General Lord Aylmer, G. C. B., 
in 1833, 
Which was broken and defaced, and is 
deposited underneath. 
The opposite side bears simply this: 
2. And the right hand of friendship how o-ft have I grasped. 
Smiling cye« have looked brightly and bland; 
But still happier far were the hours tnat I passed. 
In the west, in my own native land, 
Yee, in my own uutivc land. 
3, Then all hail, door Columbia, tho land that wt love. 
And where flourishes liberty’s tree : 
’Tis the birth-placo of freedom, our own native home, 
’Tis the hind, ’tis the land of the free, 
Yee, ’tia the land of the froe. 
land, No, no, no, no, no, No, not my own native land, No, no, no. 
River is a dark, turbid stream; also that the soil 
iu Illinois is very black, but extremely fertile, as 
was that of ancient Egypt,—and It looks more 
reasonable that the similarity of the soil and 
water should be the cause of the nickname than 
the imputed ignorance of the inhabitants. But 
enough for this time. Iu my next I will take up 
the names of some of the cities in Illinois. 
Wadsworth, Ohio. l. 
richer and costlier crimson. Many and many a 
battle has been fought since then for the mas¬ 
tery of Right over Wrang, of Truth over Error. 
But those battle-fields are not known, and to 
them no travelers ever make pilgrimages. 
Wolfe sprang to immortality from the Plains 
of Abraham, but many another has stepped 
to a glory higher and truer than his, from low¬ 
lier plains, where they waged earnest battle tor 
a common humauity, in tho cause of Truth. 
Their names may not be written over any niche 
in Fame’s temple, nor arc they anywhere re¬ 
corded among the names of hero-martyrs, as we 
read them, but they are there as God reads them. 
And yet, of the masses who fall on the battle¬ 
fields of life, over how many could we rear a 
tablet with tho “ Here died-, victorious! ” 
with truth, I mean. I don’t doubt that tomb¬ 
stones may lie; ( do I put it too plainly ?) I 
have even heard funeral discourses that I 
thought rather too much gilded. But, speaking 
the truth in all soberness, of how many can it 
be said, they “died victorious?” Victorious 
over self, over all the hosts that beleaguer man¬ 
hood to make it a slave to corruption ? Over 
doubtings and fears, Btrong in the faith that the 
glory of their victory shall be the Shekiuah of 
the life beyond? 
But if you moralize little — if reflection be 
with you only another name for sentiment, and 
you disdain that—then you stroll off across the 
Plains, to the point where Wolfe led his men 
up the steep ascent, and returning step Into 
your carriage or calash and go bowling over the 
lovely drive known as the St. Foy road. 
When I last saw the Plains of Abraham they 
appeared the altar on which was being offered 
incense, whose rising clouds were floating 
against the western sky, lit into glorious beauty. 
It was a scene to be remembered until I have 
witnessed my last sunset, I was leaving Quebec, 
at the close of one of those perfect days we 
sometimes know—was winding along the Grand 
Trunk Railway, on the south-east side of the 
St. Lawrence, just as the snn was tipping the 
bright tin roots of the old town opposite with sil¬ 
ver and gold. Our train was slowly climbing up 
the grade past Chaudiere as the sun sank down 
behind flecks of cloud which seemed to weave 
their dainty forms upou the edge of the high 
cliff. We don’t see such a sunset more than 
once in a summer. It was exquisitely, glori¬ 
ously beautiful. And in the glow of it hovers 
my last memory of “in and around Quebec." 
LITTLE MARY’S JEWEL 
Most children arc fond of gay dresses and of 
sparkling jewels, and arc eager for the time to 
come when they may possess them. And there 
is a jewel of great value which can never be 
stolen away. 
Such a jewel was In the keeping of little Mary 
Emmett, and though few people knew that she 
owned it, many loved her because she always 
wore it, and because It made her so very charm¬ 
ing. 
“O, Susie," cried Mary, “do come to tho win¬ 
dow and see bow the little flowerB arc drinking 
in this gentle rain. It really seems as if their 
colors grow brighter every moment.” 
“ How can you talk so about tho rain,” said 
Susie, crossly, “ when you know this Is the 
very afternoon that we were to visit Cousin 
Emma, and the rain will just spoil the whole 
plan.” 
“ God sends the rain; lie knows what la best, 
so I cannot be very sorry about it,” said Mary, 
sweetly. “ The little plants do really seem to 
uced It, and you know we can go to visit Cousin 
Emma to-morrow.” 
“ To-morrow I wanted to go ride with papa; 
but you don’t care how much I am disappointed. 
No one ever does care for me.” 
“ O, Susioy how can you say so ?” said Mary. 
“ You know mamma said she felt almost as sorry 
as you do, because she knows that to a child 
even a slight disappointment is no trifle. And 
then how kind she was to give ns all these 
pretty pieces ot silk to make up into dolls' 
dresses, so that we might amuse ourselves In 
the house.” 
“ I don’t care for dolls’ dresses,” Baid Su9ie. 
“ I wish she would get me a new silk dress for 
myself. All the girls in our school dreS3 better 
than we do. I am really ashamed to be seen in 
the street looking so shabby.” 
“ I don’t believe that mamma would ever let 
us be shabby,” said Mary. “ She loves us too 
well. Besides, why do you think so much about 
fine clothes, Susie ? We are children, yon know; 
and papa says that the more simply children are 
dressed the bettev they look.” 
“ Papa Is quite old-fashioned,” said Susie, 
“ and docs not understand about it at all. Lit¬ 
tle girls dress almost as much as grown-up 
young ladles in these days, and I want to be in 
the fashion. Clara Mason has a real diamond 
necklace which her father gave her on her last 
birthday, and Bertha bus at least three coBtly 
rings.” 
“ Well, what if they have ? it doe9 not make 
me unhappy,” Baid Mary. “ O, Susie,” she cried 
in a tone of joy, “ do come here and look at the 
rainbow. It is so very, very bright, aud it 
bangs its great arch over the whole sky. Unw 
can you fret so about little tbiugs, when God 
PRUSSIA’S GAINS BY THE WAR 
Prussia’s victory in the recent brief European 
war was brilliant and decisive, and her acquisi¬ 
tions in territory are correspondingly sizable 
and important. Before the war, Prussia owned 
an irregularly shaped territory containing 108,- 
771 square miles, and Including In its eight prov¬ 
inces a population of 19,304,843. By the treaty 
of Prague, just signed, she gets additional terri¬ 
tory to the amount of 43,581 square miles, with 
an additional population of 7,171,050, making 
her entire present population 36,470,533. Prus¬ 
sia's new dominions Include nearly all tho small 
German states, except the kingdom of Saxony, 
the most Important of which are, the kingdom 
of Hanover, the grand duchies of Mecklenburg 
and Oldenburg, the electorate of Hesse-Cassel, 
the landgravlate of Hesse-Homburg, and the 
ducbjeB of Nassau, Brunswick and Saxe, besides 
a strip of Bavaria. Besides these states, Prus¬ 
sia now becomes undisputed owner of the Dan¬ 
ish duchies of Schleswig and Holstein, over 
which Prussia and Austria have quarreled so 
much. Prussia’s boundaries now lie between 
Denmark, the German and Bailie oceans on the 
north; the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxemburg 
and France on the west; the Palatinate, tho 
river Main and Rodaeb, the kingdom of Saxony 
and the empire of Austria on the south, and 
Russia on tho east. Prussia will thus become 
the fifth natiou in Europe in point of popula¬ 
tion, and the seventh for extent of territory. 
Rassla, France, Austria and Great Britain only 
exceed it in the former respect. As there iB a 
strong party in Saxony which favors the annex¬ 
ation of that kingdom to Prus-la, the latter 
power may possibly in this way gain an addi¬ 
tional territory of 5,917 square miles, with over 
3,000,000 people, and the cities of Leipsic and 
Dresden. 
NUMBER OF WORDS IN USE, 
We are told, on good authority, by a clergy¬ 
man, that some of the laborers in bis pariah had 
not 300 words In their vocabulary. The vocabu¬ 
lary of the ancient sages of Egypt, at least a3 far 
as is know to U9 from the hieroglyphic inscrip¬ 
tions, amounts to about 685 words. The libretto 
of an Italian opera seldom displays a greater 
variety of words. A well educated person in 
England, who has been at a public school, and 
at the university, who reads hit Bible, his Shaks- 
peare, the Times, and all the books of Mudle’s 
library, seldom uses more than about 3,000 or 
4,000 words in actual conversation. Accurate 
thinkers and close reasoncis, who avoid vague 
and general expressions, and wait till they find 
the word that exactly fits their meaning, employ 
a larger stock; and eloquent speakers may rise 
to a command of 10,000. Bhakspcare, who dis¬ 
played a greater variety of expression than prob¬ 
ably any writer in any language, produced all his 
plays with about 15,000 words, Milton’s works 
are built up with 8,000, aud the Old Testament 
Bays all that it has to say witu 5,643 words.— 
Max Muller. 
■Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
NAMES-ILLINOIS. 
Here Died 
WOLFE, 
Victorious, 
September 13tb, 1759. 
—Illinois. There are two versions given of the 
origin of this name. One is that it is 
from the Indian word Mini, meaning ‘ 
and the French suffix oil, “ tribe of men 
other is that a party of Frenchmen, while on an 
exploring expedition down the river, found, at 
the confluence of this river with the Mississippi, 
an island thickly wooded with black walnut. It 
was at the season ef the year when the nuts 
were ripe, and they greatly enjoyed the luxury 
of this fruit while encamping on tho island. 
From this circumstance they named the island, 
and thence the river and State Isle avx ncris, 
(Island of Nuts.) 
The latter Is probably the correct version, as 
this name, from the rapid pronunciation of the 
French, would easily be coverted into its pres¬ 
ent form—Illinois. And it Ib well known that 
the river bottoms are wooded with hickory, wal¬ 
nut and pecon. Illinois is called the Prairie 
State, from Us extensive prairies. It is also 
called the Sucker State. 
Egypt is a popular nickname for Southern Il¬ 
linois, and is generally supposed to have been 
given on account of the ignorance of the inhabi¬ 
tants. But the word egypt does not signify 
ignorance, but “ Hind of blackuess,” and was 
given to ancient Egypt by the Greeks, on ac¬ 
count of the blackness of the soil and water. 
Now, it is a well known fact that the Illinois 
men 
The well from which the dying hero last drank 
is perhaps fifty feet distant from the monument. 
Of course everybody goes there for a draught, 
and of dourse I did—not. Sipping knowledge 
from the same fountains at which geniuses quaff 
will not make one a genins; nor will drinking 
from the same spring that supplied a hero make 
a man a hero. Had the flask from which Wolfe 
drank been there I might have been tempted to 
imbibe. No ordinary inducements could prevail. 
If you are given to moralizing, yon will sit 
down by the granite column and let thought 
journey backward an hundred years and more, 
and people the present with the forms that then 
dashed to and fro upon the plain in combat fierce 
and wild,— forms whose leading spirit ebbed 
away in quick pulsations juBt as Victory was 
crowning the name that spirit bore with a wreath 
of immortelles. An hundred years I ’Tia a long 
while to go backward,—long, as time is com¬ 
puted by days and months; singularly short, 
when measured by thoughts electric chain. 
Many and many a summer has the turf grown 
green and beautiful since that September morn¬ 
ing when it was trampled upon by “ the iron 
heel of War,” and its rich green blended with a 
Polar Ice, the Gulf Stream, <fcc,—M. Grad, 
in a letter read before the French Academy on 
the Polar Ice and the Gulf Stream, expressed 
the opinion that the stream keeps up its identity 
as far as the north of Siberia, and only loses 
Itself In the Polar Basin. He contended that 
the Pole Is by no means always occupied with 
Ice, and that as the waters of the Gulf Stream 
keep themselves open in the spaces of the gla¬ 
cial seas which they traverse, It is in the prolon¬ 
gation of that current between the Spltzbergen 
Group and Nova Zcmbla that we ought to look 
out for the easiest route by which to arrive at 
the Arctic geographical Pole. 
The happiest man in the world i3 the man 
with just wealth enough to keep him in spirits, 
and just children enough to make him indus¬ 
trious. 
A person may believe as he pleases about 
things; but things will not, therefore, he as he 
pleases. 
