42 
MOORE’S RURAL MEW-YORKER. 
“This was it,” slowly repeated the Colo¬ 
nel. “ I wish you would sell out here before 
it is too late.” 
Again Majwakkt’s cheeks were pallid. 
Again the poor little heart beat tumultous¬ 
ly* . “Too late?” Those words had escaped 
her before she thought. 
“ f probably meant what 1 said,” answer¬ 
ed Margaret, taking her hand from her 
father’s shoulder, and leaning against the 
side of the piazza where she could look him 
squarely in the face. Margaret Heatii- 
erstone was a bra ve girl. Even then, once 
having made up her mind that she was 
’•ight, all Virginia would not have been able 
to unsettle her. Margaret had the stuff 
out of which martyrs are made; and here 
hit it be said of the State from whence 
sprang so many of our noblest specimens of 
manhood and womanhood—that for pluck 
and courage—Virginia was always ahead — 
and for endurance in her hours of trial, not¬ 
withstanding her hot-honse education, slm 
was never surpassed and scarcely equaled 
by any country iu the history of the world. 
“Hr vo yon no eyes, my father?" contin¬ 
ued Margaret, her fine eyes illuminated by 
tholight of prophesy. “Are you deaf to the 
fr'ound of the coining hosts? Can you not 
sec that the deathblow has been struck 
to this system of human traflio. Right or 
wrong it is doomed—i gee it—I know it- I 
feci it here,” placing her hand upon her 
heart, “ and this is knowledge. My days and 
my nights are full of horrible dreams—and 
the future is nil mapped out before me!” 
“And in the face and eyes of what you 
arc pleased to call knowledge of coming 
events, you advise your father to forsake 
the land that gave him birth; the land that, 
furnished the best blood for the establish¬ 
ment of American independence; the land 
of his forefathers; the land of bis love, in 
other words, to turn traitor to his princi¬ 
ples. Margaret ! Margaret ! I had 
thought better tilings of you.” 
For a moment, the young lady stood pale 
ami still, apparently speechless with terror, 
and overcome by the thought that she had 
been guilty of treasonable advice then ral¬ 
lying, said impetuouslyYou know bet¬ 
ter than that, Col. Harrison Hkatukr- 
stone, and you ought, to be ashamed of 
yourself. I’d rather die myself a hundred 
times over; I'd rather that everybody 
should die that belonged tome; I’d rather 
be left standing alone on the ruins of this 
grand old place, than to have auy one I 
love show' the white feather! and you know 
it, too!” 
“Bless her little heart! So her father 
does know it :” and the fine-looking man 
drew- the graceful girl down upon his knee, 
and tenderly encircling her, bade her forget 
his harsh words, and try and thrust aside 
the agonizing thoughts <d the future, *”If 
we do have to fight, darling, it must be a 
mighty short-lived business. The fact is, 
we are prepared to resist invasion; there’s 
no doubt about that; but bless my heart, if 
there isn't ITarry! What in the world 
could have started him out. so early this 
morning?” as the young gentleman iu ques¬ 
tion galloped up to the main entrance on a 
spirited coal-black steed, looking for all the 
world as if he had been polished for t he occa¬ 
sion. “That, boy is most awfully in love,” 
said the Colonel, slyly; “can’t even wait 
till night draws her sable curtain to do bis 
courtin’, ch ?” 
“Ho might have waited till I had my 
breakfast! 1 can’t bear a man who has no 
idea of the fitness of things,” replied Mar¬ 
garet, with a pout, of her rosy lips, again 
transformed into the spoiled, willful child. 
“ flood morning, Harry,” said the Colo¬ 
nel, heartily. “Glad to see you! Made an 
early start, seems to me.” 
“Yes, sir,” replied the noble fellow, red¬ 
dening to the roots of his hair as he caught 
6ight. of the averted face of his lady-love. 
“Our papers have just arrived, and I knew 
that, you wouldn’t receive your mail until 
evening, so I thought I’d trot over aud bring 
yon the news.” 
“ Welcome, my boy, welcome any how,” 
and the Colonel settled back in his comfort¬ 
able chair for a careful perusal of the North¬ 
ern papers, with only a slight bow of re¬ 
cognition to the visitor. Margaret inter¬ 
rupted her father with" Then Jake is in 
disgrace, again, 1 hear, Ha ? ” 
“ Yes, and he is going t o have a good sound 
trouncing, too! ” and the Colonel opened 
wide the Tribune, evidently determined 
upon saying no more on the subject. 
“ Have you given orders to that effect? ” 
inquired Margaret, clenching her dainty 
little hands, and tracing with her slippered 
foot, all sorts of geometrical lines on the 
floor in front of her father. 
“ I sent, an order by Hannibal an hom¬ 
age for Mr. Haskell to see that the youug 
sea up pot ten good lashes, and that, is very 
light punishment, considering what he de¬ 
serves.” 
“ If Jake receives one lash, even, or one 
negro on this plantation is ever struck a 
single blow, I’ll pack up my things and start 
for the North, traitor or no traitor. Harry, 
order your horse; brought around,” and the 
royal Margaret marched into the hall, 
tied on her straw hat, and then waited for 
her obedient, lover to do her bidding. 
“ Margaret, child, where arc you going?" 
inquired the Colonel, a shade of reproach 
perceptible in his voice. 
“ I am going down to the overseer’s office 
to countermaud your order about Jake, 
aud if he dares to disobey me, it will be the 
last time he ever has the opportunity.” 
Col. IfEATiiEttsTON k, strange to relate, 
looked neither shocked nor hurt at this 
manifesto of his darling. Truth compels 
tin; statement that, if anything, ho was a 
little relieved at having the business thus 
summarily taken out of Ills hands. It 
wouldn't be at all surprising if ho reckoned 
upon just such a result, for t hese episodes 
had been of very common occurrence ever 
since Margaret could remember. Occa¬ 
sionally a slave would be punished in spite 
of her watchfulness—but Col. Heath er¬ 
st one, finding what, a t errible family storm 
a proceeding of this kind was sure to bring 
about, finally issued an edict that the over¬ 
seer should never Hog a negro without an 
especial order from him. 
“.Stop a minute, Margaret,” said her 
father, as the spirited girl bounded upon 
the horse and prepared to gallop away. 
“This howling of the niggers at night must 
be stopped; and if you sire determined 
to take my business out of my bands, re¬ 
member that von must manage it. They 
were in Hannibal's cabin, too, last night, 
remember that ;” and with this parting shot 
front her father, Margaret, with a slight 
nod of aequiesenec, rode quickly down the 
avenue in the direction of the’ overseer's 
office. 
The majority of the slaves of Col. Heath- 
erstone'h plantation, as everywhere else, 
were grown-up children, gay, careless, irre¬ 
sponsible, depending on massa for every¬ 
thing, never forced to shirk for themselves, 
They were in all emergencies very trouble¬ 
some material to deal with. Hut. to the 
general rule they were here, a.- everywhere, 
noticeable exceptions. Nor were t he excep¬ 
tions confined to the slaves iu whose veins 
flowed the proud Virginia blood. This 
would be more flattering to the white race, 
and would better sustain prevalent theo¬ 
ries, but it is unless true that, some of the 
clearest-beaded, Soundest, and most truth¬ 
ful and sterling men among the Southern 
slaves were found among the full-blooded 
Africans, old Hannibal was one of these. 
His father bad been bought of a slave-t rader 
by Col. Hkathkhstonk's father, and his 
mother hud not adrop of white blood in her 
veins. Jlo was simple as a child and as 
strong as a lion. He would be burned at 
the stoke before ho would tell a lie, yet he 
did all lie honestly could to screen “deodcr 
niggers" when they got into trouble. He 
was a born leader, and was instinctively 
taking his place at. the head of the slaves, 
who were all tilled with a vague excitement 
to which their childish natures made them 
peculiarly susceptible. Hannibal had no 
thought of insurrection, no thought, of bet- 
teriug his condition. lie was devoted to his 
master, and lie loved Margaret with the 
whole of his faithful soul. Butdowu in the 
cabin in the light of the blazing pine knots, 
with the negroes around him, be had sung 
“John Brown” with more enthusiasm than 
any of them, and with a strange prophetic 
pathos thrilling in his voice. 
Physically, Hannibal was of powerful 
build, over six feet in bight, with iron 
strength. He had a hand like a sledge ham¬ 
mer, and a massive head, well developed in 
the perceptive regions, with large reverence 
balanced with full self-esteem. TIis. usual 
mien was grave and dignified, but he had a 
quiet humor that always lurked near-by, 
ready to show itself on any occasion, and his 
kindliness was never-failing. 
“ I)at, nigger, be sit quiet as lamb, if (ia- 
briel toot he horn right straight in he ears; 
uebbor see he riled ’ccpt few times when 
Miss Margbkt he boddered. He let de 
little niggers run right, ober him just as if 
he biglog; nebber did see such lump." 
This was Aunty Mimy's opinion of Han- 
niual’o character, and it pretty accurately 
expressed one phase of it. 
Hannibal was in no hurry to deliver the 
order for Jake’s punishment. Ho sauntered 
along toward the negro quarters singing in 
a chanting monotonous way snatches of 
hymns that the slaves had altered to suit 
t heir own ideas of versification. Hannibal 
was something of a theologian, and he sat 
down under an oak, about half way to the 
overseer's house, and began holding a little 
argument with himself about the words ho 
was singing. 
“ The sun he done stan still 
At Joshua's command. 
“Now dis chile he see many tilings, but ho 
sure he no sec how dc sun stan still at any¬ 
body’s command. Dot Joshua must have 
been powerful man to hold do sun. Dis 
nigger not sure he did any such thing. 
Anyhow de suti go fast, ’fluff iu dese times. 
He up now-big piece and nuffin done. Dat 
limb Jake ho not oben whipped. Bress de 
Lord, if dar aint sunshine herself, galloping 
down de road on Massa Harry's horse.”— 
[To be continued. 
A HAPPY CHRISTMAS, 
AND HOW I WAS INDEBTED TO THE RURAL FOR IT. 
BY HARRY. 
I know my kind-hearted uncle will excuse 
me, seeing it cannot damage his credit now, 
by first, referring to the circumstances that 
brought about the matter, so fresh and 
grateful to my memory, which 1 am going 
to relate. MyuncU, by-tlie-by, is one of 
those odd characters known as a Natural¬ 
ist. I cannot say that he is profound, but 
rather discursive and various—fresh and 
buoyant as a youth, in spite of his gray hairs, 
he is as breezy as a boy when out with him 
rambling over hills and meadows in quest 
of botanical specimens for bis herbarium or 
beetles and butterflies for his cabinet. 
My uncle liad a pleasant home in a coun- 
try village, where he kept a drug store — 
with numerous friends, but customers bare¬ 
ly enough to enable him to meet his ends, 
or rather to make them meet. He was an 
unselfish student, not ambitious, and filled 
up the blanks, for lack of business, in collect¬ 
ing and studying objects of nature. Thus 
contentedly he passed his time, happy to 
come out square at the end of t he year. His 
skill in drawing and general information 
led him to assist neighboring inventors to 
procure letters patent,. Through endorsing, 
and other losses, lie was finally compelled to 
sell bis property and drug store; honestly 
meeting his creditors, be found himself left 
with thirty dollars and some furniture, with 
which he moved to I*-, in the spring of 
1H58. Having no business or capital but 
brains and a good will, he offered his ser¬ 
vices as a Solicitor of Patents, and receiving 
an appointment of Librarian at five dollars 
per week, with office room in the central 
part of the city, he eked out a pittance that 
barely enabled him to keep the “ pot a boil¬ 
ing.” 
It was on the 2,’kl of December, 1858, a 
mere lad, aged about twelve years, that I 
was, by invitation, permitted to visit my 
uncle—to spend a few weeks in the city, 
over the holidays. Ob, how vividly 1 re¬ 
member the impressions made upon my 
mind as I wandered with my cousin (a lad 
of my own age) aloug the streets to look 
with astonishment upon the gorgeous dis¬ 
play of candies, confectionary, and the 
many pretty and curious toys, und the 
doors crowded with eager purchasers of 
Christinas presents. The trifling amount of 
change in my pocket made mo feel poor in¬ 
deed. I had never seen anything to com¬ 
pare with such temptations, aud was a 
mute observer. In passing through Center 
Square we saw piles of different kinds of 
evergreens sold to those desiring to get up 
Christmas trees. My cousin, having ten 
cents, concluded to invest, saying that ho 
knew his fat her and mother would decorate 
It, and it would be a source of amusement. 
He purchased a bush, and we carried it 
home and deposited it privately iu the yard. 
We had a pleasant evening, but no intima¬ 
tion of a Christmas Tree Festival. 
On the morning of the 24th, after break¬ 
fast,, my cousins ventured to hint about get¬ 
ting some toys, and I can recall the sad 
smile on the face of my uncle when he said: 
“ My dear children, 1 have but a single flve- 
cent piece to my name, and mother is ‘ dead 
broke.’ ” 
“Well, father," said they, “you know 
our aunt gave us each a gold dollar when 
here, beside what we had previous. You 
can take that." 
“Alas! dear children, I did appropriate 
all that, yesterday morning, to purchase ne¬ 
cessaries for the table.” 
Their countenances fell, as if a heavy dis¬ 
appointment had crossed their buoyant 
hearts. Uucle saw it, and, with a pitying 
look, he said cheerily, "Never mind, dear 
children, f have leisure; 1 have some bril¬ 
liant, foil, gold-leaf and Bristol board, and 
skill; with willing hands I’can mqke toysas 
well as others, and color them too. So be 
of good cheer.” 
The door bell rang. Aunt being busy in 
tho kitcheu, I accompanied uncle to the 
door, at. which stood a female with a sad, 
pale countenance; timidly looking up into 
Bay uncle’s face, she begged for a t rifle to aid 
her in her destitution. No questions were 
asked;—his hand speedily drew forth that 
identical five cent piece , which he handed 
to the woman with a “ (Ion bless you!—No 
thanks; you are welcome to it; it can do me 
no good." A grateful look, and the woman 
quietly walked away. Returning to his 
task, by the time dinner was ready sundry 
pretty toys were made, 
After dinner my Cousin David was sent 
to the post-office. On his return he brought 
n few papers and a letter. On opening the 
letter, a pretty, printed draft was revealed, 
which was carefully iijsppcted, and proved 
to be to my uncle’s order on a New York 
bank for #25, signed D. D. T. Moore. I 
learned afterward* t hat my uncle had re¬ 
ceived a check in a letter, t he week before, 
for 8500, which was intended fora person of 
his name, a miller, from a Philadelphia mer¬ 
chant— to whom he wrote immediately 
about tho mistake u> its direction, which 
was duly corrected. This circumstance, aud 
the fact that no money w as expected by him 
from auy source, led him to read the fetter 
through—upon which he called Aunt Sarah 
to him. showed the letter and contents, say¬ 
ing—“This, t hough a trifling sum, is greatly 
enhanced by tin* very flattering anil consol¬ 
ing contents of the letter,” which he then 
read aloud to us. Never was money more 
gratefully received or well-timed. ‘All of 
the family expressed their mutual satisfac¬ 
tion for this token of regard from an entire 
stranger, for services performed to fill up 
idle moments, in writing pieces. To have, 
them received and devilled worthy of puli- 
was considered an ample reward and honor, 
without other compensation. 
Well, you may believe me, this draft was 
cashed that afternoon before, three o’clock, 
and to it we children were Indebted for the 
most, happy and cheerful Christmas lever 
enjoyed. We had some rare toys, too. Ob, 
the pleasure- the memory yet affords I Con¬ 
spicuous around the base of our tree, in 
neat letter*, was inscribed. “Thanks to 
D. D. T. Moore of the Rural New-Yorker 
— God hlcss It i in 1 ” 
[The above having been read and ap¬ 
proved for publication by our associate, we. 
allow it to appear, with" the remark that 
Harry’s uncle under-estimated the value 
of bis contributions — for they were on a 
scientific subject, ably written, and accom¬ 
panied by sketches exhibiting accurate 
knowledge, skill and patient labor.—JE d.] 
THE CHRIST CHILD. 
At Bethlehem in the manger, 
He lies, a babe of days; 
For ns he gives himself to death, 
O give him thunks and praise! 
Whoe’er would hope In gladness 
To kiss tills Holy Child, 
Must suffer many a pain and woe 
Patient like him, and mild ; 
Must die with him to evil 
And rise to righteousness, 
Thnt so with Christ , he too may share 
Eternal life and bliss. [Tattler. 
— ■ + ■*•+■ - 
A MOTHER’S PIETY, 
My parents were scrupulously attentive 
to have family worship iu our family, morn¬ 
ing and evening, and to have it at the pro¬ 
per time. It was regarded as a great thing 
and a real service, and our mother was par¬ 
ticularly careful that all arrangements 
should be so made that It should not be 
omit ted or pushed into a corner. A nd even 
when a very little boy, 1 had that impres¬ 
sion of it; furl never heard either of my 
parents say of it us some do, “ Should we 
not have worship, and let us go to our seve¬ 
ral duties;" or, when far on in tin; night, 
“ Let us have prayers, and get to bed, for 
we are all worn out." 
I feel that many persons feel it to be a 
heavy burden. It. Is a hollow formality, 
standing like a coffin between them and 
something which Is to them of more im¬ 
portance. It was not so in our household. 
It was a cherished, well-timed, and vital 
matter, which nothing was permitted to 
push aside or supplant. 
Dear parents, see to have family worship 
in your households—reading of tho Scrip¬ 
tures, prayer, and praise — morning and 
evening. It will be of great moment both 
to you and to your children. But it would 
be better not to have it at all if you were to 
regard it as a mere drag upon the wheels of 
morning duties, or a griffin between you aud 
nocturnal repose. Make it. a right thing; 
have it at the proper time; and put your 
heart into it; and, by God's blessing, it will 
help your own souls, and benefit your off¬ 
spring. Some one has said that a house 
without prayer is a house without a roof. A 
house without prayer is surely a house 
“ without Christ.”— Selected. 
-- 
GIVING THANKS. 
I do not think it so hard to give thanks in 
great emergencies and persecutions such as 
Paul endured. In the time of great trouble 
there is something elevating in the thought 
or surmounting the trial that lifts one above 
it. One of the most tranquil times in my 
life was when 1 was coming down with a 
fever anil knew it. 1 nearly fainted on the 
floor; my bruiu was superstiinulated, and 
there opened up to me such a vision of 
God's glory, T was in a trance of joy and 
glory; but when I was getting well, i was 
not half as grateful as when I was getting 
sick.— Beecher. 
-- 
“ Be Just and fear not. Let all the ends 
thou aimest at be thy God’s, thy Country’s 
and Truth’s." 
