MOORE’S RURAL WEW-YORKER. 
vc know, wc all singing. ’Spects nobody to 
blame, Miss MARGARET.” 
“ But tills thing must, be stopped. L ha ve 
interfered to save the slaves from punish¬ 
ment, time after time, and 1 can’t keep 
doing it . It's very thought lens of you all 
to get. me into trouble, by doing what, my 
father has forbidden.” , . .. , 
IJere there was a general exclamation of— 
“ Dat so! Dose niggers, dey no ’aeration. 
Miss Margaret be an angel right from de 
sky ” 
: ‘ it would be better t o obey mo than to 
call me an angel.” r. , . l j 
“’gpects dat be trite. Uc heart, ob dcse 
niggers be all right,, frou and frou, but dey 
done forgot so easy.” 
I did was to talk to dem niggers, and tell 
’em to go to bed. and de nex ting 1 hear Sun¬ 
shine tell me dat Susan am sick in de woods, 
and Hannibal mils' tote her home! Wbar 
be the chile?” ,, , 
“ Right here Uncle Hannibal,” and 
Margaret tucked her hand in his, and led 
him to the spot whore SUSAN, now partially 
recovered, stood waiting for the return of 
her mistress. ., 
“ It was too bad to call you, uncle,” said 
Susan, apologetically—” But Miss Marga¬ 
ret thought 1 shouldn’t, be able to reach 
home without helps but T in better now, 
v(m KlVt. YUIII IllM'bi'* rtiiu nil 'O “ L, l ........ _ 
to do rieht but this singing must be stopped compass, was the quiet reply. 
at i?ght Father wiU not allow it, and It it , “ Hat chart and compass Wry ’portant 
I ... f.,r coo- out 
sequence*. ....... 
"Sponsible? No,” broke in Auntie Mtmv. 
” Dar ain’t no sponslbility tucked to any¬ 
body but dc niggers dcmselves. Ebery 
biugle one ob ’em jus ’servo a good, sound 
thrashing; Mim mos’ ob all, cause she de 
oldest ob de heap. Brens do Lord, honey, 
W'* no her do rlisagiti—see if we do!’ 
‘‘No, we won’t; no, we won’t,” said they 
all In chorus. 
“ You den’ tinlc. Miss Margaret, dat 
massa Hr.i liBSTosi-: hoah de rumpus deso 
niggers kicked up so far, do she ? inquired 
little Titkh, the sivest and most tnischlev- 
,mt of all the house servants. “ Cause if he 
h.»b. de ting for dis colored chile to do is to 
iu? go an drown hesef. Massa Haskell 
vow he whip him nex time widln an inchob 
bis life. Golly!" and the little scamp bal¬ 
anced himself on his bead for a moment, 
the?ii turii , *<l *i dou1>lft somcrsftulti aud, but 
for Aunt M i M y’B powerful hand, would have 
certainly lauded in the mid'ile of the blazing 
pine knots. ... , 
" Pity de. dobblisb little black rascal 
couldn’t git do licking he's been 'serving for 
de las four weeks. If MiMv had si had one 
wit lef in her old, brack head, she d lef him 
burn to a cinder, so she would. ’ 
"It is time you were all in bed, inter- 
runted Margaret, amused in spite of her 
sadness at the comi'-al faces of 'L ITUS, who, 
in the endeavor to wriggle away from the 
frciiiendous grip of the old Colored women, 
had almost escaped from his clothes. 
“Behave vuuraelf Titus, t.ood night 
„.U," And fA a uo abet beckoning Susan to 
widout ’em apeu, even on a short voyage- as 
short as dis oiie to the nigger quarters," and 
there was a touch of dry humor In the old 
“ Well, no, not all the time,” he laughed. 
“ I don’t suppose 1 shall be let. Aunt Clara 
has just taken me to task for my retiring 
disposition, as she is pleased to call it, aud 
insists that 1 have disgraced our whole 
ancestry with my choice of a profession." 
“ 1 hope vou don’t care for her nonsense?” 
replied Margaret, her face flushing crimson. 
“Jf 1 thought I should grow one millionth 
part as disagreeable as Aunt Clara is, I ’d 
pray to the Lord to remove me from this 
world at once.” 
*‘ Oh, Aunt Clara has her good points. 
“ 1 suppose so, but it’s hard to sea them 
with the natural cyo.” 
“ You must look through the glass of char¬ 
ity, little one." . . 
1 ‘ I wish 1 could always have that glass close 
at hand as you do, dear Alfred. I should¬ 
n’t. make no many mistakes, and hurt peo¬ 
ple’s feelings so often.” 
“ That will all come right in time Mignon; 
a rose doesn’t attain to perfect blossoming 
in an hour; there is much pruning to be 
done first.” 
“Ah, dear Alfred, the pruning is hard 
man’s voice that went a good way toward to bear!” . . 
softening the hard lines of philosophy 1 “ Yes, darling. But we won’t anticipate, 
which he strove to impress upon the minds . ft is better to live in the present. ‘Sulli- 
wbicb he strove to impress upon the minds 
of liis companions. 
" Mr. BiiAyton is coming at the holidays. 
Did you know it, Hannibal?' inquired 
Margaret as she walked on ahead, leaving 
the old man ami SUSAN together. 
•* And dur's a big lunipob company to puts 
in, Sithan liab jus’ been a telling me. St op a 
minute, please, dour lit,t ie missus. Don you 
tluk dat Missus HefKRsTONK would jus’ let 
cient unto the day is the evil thereof, you 
know. I suppose you think sultielent unto 
(lie day is the evil of Aunt Clara, eh, 
Maggie?” 
“ Yes, T do think so. She frets me in spite 
of myself. She is papa's sister, and T don’t 
want to dislike her, but it’s bard to get along 
with her ridiculous airs. You should have 
heard her talk about the Nort h this morn- 
Sitkan go to Richmond for two free weeks Jug. She seems to think tHat. its uo better 
at dat time? She don’ feel bery good moss’ than the interior of Africa. She believes 
ob de time, and ober dar she could jus pick i ho Yankees would nil be made slaves and 
up a little.” 
“I will ask her, Uncle Hannibal, the 
very first thing in the morning, but unless 
Susan is loo ill to he of any service. I am 
sure mamma will not spare ner; you know 
how much she values Husan’s services—and 
there’s no one here to take her place. Do 
you really want to go so very much, Soman ? 
“Oh, so much. Miss Margaret--so much! 
I would rather die than stay here through 
the holidays," came the answer in low, sup¬ 
pressed tones. 
Margaret fully realized that Soman s 
desire fora temporary absence was dictated 
by no ordinary motives. Susan and a ca¬ 
price could never be even distantly related. 
She tried to t hink what it, all meant—tried 
to ferret out the mystery- for that there 
work with the negroes before they would 
light.” 
“ What docs she think of Miss Tatlor 
and Miss Arnold?” 
“Oh, she’fi scarcely seen them yet; but 
she knows they are rich, and riches with her 
cover a multitude of sins. She conveni¬ 
ently forgets that, they are Yankees, and 
remembers that they have, been to Paris. 
Bv the war. Mr. Brayton met Min last 
winter in New York; there was quite a lit¬ 
tle soeiio when they recognized each other 
la«t night.” 
“All the better; that makes a basis of 
acquaintance already.’’ 
“Yes; Minnie and Hope were singing 
the ‘Last Bose of Summer,’ with the cot¬ 
ton speculator’s bass for a background to 
"Please Miss Margaret, say no more wuc-uou. .. . 
about it.” And then adiM, bl^riy, “Al- Co ,^" h ^; not f ,. lt w ,. u a u the fall, Miss 
though a slave, 1 am nevertheless a win a l, \f aboaret; I want a little rest and change, 
which fact ought to be ancient Ih t 7 and 1 don’’t feel like seeing company.” 
of a woman to excuse an «°? a J}°J al iJ “gjjj There was no invitation to confidence m the 
t. ,u; and now Slsan * V e V ® ^For tkc tone; and the words were cold and quick, 
aud evenly modulated as ever. 11 ,D , “Well I will do my best to persuade 
Kike of all, Miss ^XT’bii^ pai- n.a.nma to let mu go, but 1 urn af«Al it will 
this unfortunate episode. I bug be impossible. I want you to go, Susan, if 
don. Miss Margaret, for having disturbed j>© ^ufmaku you happier; you believe that, 
This was enough to rouse a more patient 11 ’'Vtlo^Miss Margaret. Goodnight, Mias 
SSl’VS&SuS* Maotah,,-: i you urn „<* 
sively added, “ I do believe m.v heart wtU flervt . d a 1 U(] the other as vaguely dissatisfied 
break. This system of ttadi‘“K U s when thev left the house on their errand 
blood is diabolical. God must interime no- i.etrro'oa 
fore long. A *^,JjC8AN?How can you „ HAN ^ rBAL ' said i could help Susan, and 
and she's affectionate, too; but there is so 
much to Hope. She is somehow loving and 
strong at the same time. You know, Al¬ 
fred, wo have au impression that loving 
meu and women am not strong-' 
“ I believe there is some such feeling in 
know that 1 really care for her; she must, 
be sure of that. 1 don't understand why 1 
am so interested in her, and so sorry for 
her; she never complains; she is comfort- 
break. This system of ^ as when tliev left the house on their errand 
blood is diabolical. God must mtcHere no- , 1B »roea 
fore long. A xlavc, Susan? How can you i4 }lAN ^ r HKl ’ sa j d j could help Susan, and 
SO entirely misinterpret my views, bo w can tfaa “ J a ne eded my help,” t bought Marga- 
you so utterly misu iuI erst ana me • ; , kf.t, as she took off her wrappings; “ but 1 
no bond-woman to mo, and, mark my oi d., ho w; may be it is a help to her to 
neither will you bei to the rest of' “ewortft k , JQW tbat l rfe8 , ly c am for her; she must 
after a little. A few bio**,, a few heart- be sur( , o{ that ( don’t understand why I 
breaks, a itt S as Hin 80 interested in her, and so sorry for 
tiou is levelled. In inv her; she never complains; she is comfort- 
free os i am, and in mj sight you are my but somehow T can't bear to see her go 
friend aud eoual, with perhaps as good a J^ii this way, locking herself up from 
right to a noble name as i nave. ( everybody. It would kill me to live so; 
” Miss—-’ Ma«oarot, plewy and the &nd * w<m / ering why ScS an wanted so much 
tono 3 grow fainter, .md fainter, ana t n (0 away at t h a t particular tune, and hop- 
mim seemed about t» fau, b that she could influence her mother to 
“ f mean it, Susan, ever^word of it. Y ou ^ Magg1e feU asleep. 
trust, me dear, do you not. . The fall months flew quickly by. 4 With 
“Oh, yes. yes. Sighed heicompamon. thc U(jlidaV5 cume a number of invited 
“ But we must rest it moment. 1 am t KU e«ts for it was the custom of thxslios- 
woak to go on just yet. . .. bitable family to entertain handsomely 
“ m wake lip old HANNIBAL, and ask him P^nn ”f nter . Col. Heatuerstone's 
to help us. Its only JR=t a step or two t . w j tb her family, consisting of three 
his cabin,” and Margaret ^ ul ' ril ‘^ ^ -^ children and a colored nurse for each, had 
She had proceeded but a short distance alrc , ady arr i v ed. Mr. Brayton, u large 
when a familiar voice arrested her at t gi- ttoJJ speculator in the neighborhood of 
tion. It was HANNiB^ taltaug to himself. MobUei hourly expected, also two youug 
lie had been awakened by the noise of tli_ lad f rlftU ds of Margaret’s from >ow 
negroes, and was hurryiug on as fast as his 7 Cr no roe was in his element. Alfred, 
shuffling gait could carry him to prevent its dignified and reticent, shrank from 
repetition. . , ... . 4 a t h P anticipation of so large a number ol 
*‘ Hab no notion what 11 be done w idMem ^ g( a J an , l J wish ed from the depths of hn 
niggers!” he exclaimed apparent^ qmte ^ thal tha U uiet of their daily life migh 
out of patience. If it wa* , never again be broken in upon, or at least 
shine, I’m jus bout of do pinion dat ( he was obliged topi’osecutehis studies 
What Hanmrals- opinion was did not Al1 ^ ed Heaiuerstone hati 
come to light on t hat occasion, for just then duatod frrtm college with all the honor.- 
Margaret said softly . ^ ,. of that institution; and, very much agamsl 
“ Oh, Uncle IIANN.UAL is that you ? I am jjt^ of hirt 'family, had deter,ninec 
so glad, fur Susan ns very ill, and lnt u p 0 n the profession of a physician. He was 
know how 1 am to get her home SoSr studying with one of the best M. D.'i 
•‘ n usAN ? 8 u»an i repeated tho old mam ■ tbe p lat0 and was pushing forward tin 
“ What dat yon say, Sunshine ? Wuhan bitK k Avith m-eat. energy and euthnsiasm 
down heah in do woods in de dead of de , withstanding the opposition he constant 
night ? The two of you is as crazy as loons home. Margaret, of course 
anyhow. What for do you P^erounm g^SdVkh him thoroughly. She wa 
dls style?” and the negro, moie auuov e l ^‘j ie fathur brother, sister, counselor 
than Margaret had ever seen him, waited frioud fmd lover . she gloried in the though 
for an answer. f u be WO uld one day be independent o 
“ Why Uncle Hannibal. \ou must have ■ iu dolent, dolcc fur vicnU; life which hac 
heard the noise thc negroes were making. mad<1 wrnc i tg 0 f many of her friends. 
Of course T could nt Let that go on. It “ You won’t studv o/t the time our frkmd 
father had heard it there would have been . ^ ffjll you Alfred?" said Mar 
no bounds to his rage, and they would au QAKET bursting in upon him one morninj 
bare been whipped to-morrow, b t j hU COs , y little library writing. 
“ Den dey get dhelr deserts. De las ting 
Fie. s 
with an ^rmfjji 6f hpliy ready to pass to 
Jake, doing his nest to decorate the rooms. 
“ I have made up my mind to take her 
precisely as I would any counter-irritant, 
rather peppery and disagreeable for the 
time being, but then so healthy, you know, 
dear—under certain circumst aiices.” 
“ What’s that you are saying, Marga¬ 
ret?” said the lady in question, lounging 
over from the opposite side of the apart¬ 
ment. where she had been freely criticising 
Jake's handiwork. “A low tone in com¬ 
pany should always be avoided, niece.” 
“1 was talking to Hope, aunt-in fact, 
making a few remarks intended for her pri¬ 
vate ear—Mr. Brayton; ah, Mr. Bray- 
tox,” as Margaret recognized the gentle¬ 
man's step in thc hall. ‘Como in, please, 
dud tel! tis if you think a cross will look 
well on this siilc. t>f the mirror? It will 
show wd! from all fiarts bt the robin, seems 
tome;” and Makgaj&Et cocked her classic 
little head on one side, canary fashion, and 
surveyed the bare spot with the eye of a 
true artist. 
“Is It me you are appealing to, Miss Mag¬ 
gie?” replied the gentleman, kindly—ad¬ 
vancing to the Side bt tho beautiful girl. 
“ On the subject of crosses I shall be scarce¬ 
ly a fair judgo. I fear. A cross^tomc”— 
and the gentleman's face flushed crimson, 
and then quicklj'paled again—" is so sacred¬ 
ly significant'—so typical of unbounded love 
—and triich a love!” 
Margaret looked into the speaker’s face 
with undisguised astonishment . What was 
to rome next'? she wondered. That; Mr. 
Bra vtcin was a perfect gentleman, a Bcholar, 
afascinating man of the world, she thought 
she understood; but that he should be pos¬ 
sessed of any deep Christian sentiment, 
entirely passed her comprehension. Mr. 
Brayton went on. 
“ A love so strong, so tender, so divine in 
its humanity that even when the prayer— 
* If it be possible, let this cup pass from me,’ 
was forced from the lips of our precious 
sufferer, even then followed the sweet 
words, ‘ Nevertheless, Thy will, not mine, 
bo done.' No, Miss Margaret, I cannot like 
crosses in drawing-rooms, t beg your par¬ 
don for hav ing spoken so freely.” 
“There shall not be a cross in the house, 
Mr. BRAYTON. I quite agree wit li you,” re¬ 
plied the enthusiastic little lady, her eyes 
full of tears. 
"No crosses? What is it, Margaret— 
no crosses for Christman?” interrupted 
Aunt Clara. “ Why 1 never heard of such 
a tiling! Folks will have a right to think 
sort of sentimental softness and weak yield¬ 
ing for that which is the very marrow of 
character.” 
“ That’s it; you always straighten every¬ 
thing out, Alfred?” 
“ How- do you like Brayton, little one?” 
“ Better than 1 thought I should. I had 
heard a good many things not exactly to 
his credit, you know. I don't feel as if he’s 
a bad man.” 
“ He bus the elements of a noble, gener¬ 
ous man. But everything has been against 
his real growth. Rich, handsome and gift¬ 
ed, ho bus been petted by society to an un¬ 
limited extent; not feeling thc need of ex¬ 
ertion, he has always Abated with the cur¬ 
rent, and that is enough to take the mail¬ 
able, but somehow T can’t bear to see her go g-g V> a «nvbodv h His i^puDes are 
ou in this W, tagftoK herself iqi from hood out like to do right, if it 
wasn’t troublesome; but when the test 
and wondering why Susan wanted so much 
to go away at that particular time, and hop- 
iug that f^he could influence her mother to 
lot her go. Maggie fell asleep. . 
The fall months flew quickly by. vv itu 
the holidays came a number of invited 
guests, for' it was the custom of this hos¬ 
pitable family to entortaiu handsomely 
during the winter. Col. Heatuerstone's 
sister, with her family, consisting of three 
children and a colored nurse lor each, had 
already arrived. Mr. Brayton, u large 
cotton speculator in the neighborhood of 
Mobile, was hourly expected, also two youug 
lady friends of Margaret’s from Aew 
York. GEOBGEwas in his element. Alfred. 
always dignified aud reticent, shrank from 
the anticipation of so large a number of 
truest*, and wished from the depths of hi* 
soul that tho quiet of their daily life might 
never again be broken in upon, or at least 
vvli de he w as obliged to prosecute his st udies 
at home. Alfred Hkattierstoxk had 
graduated from college with all the honors 
of that institution; and, very much against 
the wishes or his family, had determined 
upon the profession of a physician. He was 
now studying with out- of the best M. D- * 
in the State, and was pushing forward the 
work with great energy and enthusiasm, 
notwithstanding the opposition he constant¬ 
ly m et with at home. Margaret, of course, 
sympathised with him thoroughly. She was 
mother, father, brother, sister, counselor, 
friend and lover. She- gloried in the thought 
that lie would one day be independent of 
the indolent, clolcc,far niente life which had 
made wrecks of many of her friends. 
“ Yon won’t studv all the time our friends 
are’ here, will yom Alfred?" said Mar¬ 
garet, bursting in upon him one morning 
as he sat in his cosy little library writing. 
in all sort* of common places. I am very 
grateful to you, sir," and M vrgarft ex¬ 
tended her hand to thc gentleman just as 
Susan entered the room. The octoroon 
walked straight up to Margaret, looking 
neither to the right nor left, aud said gently, 
but In a tone of absolute decision: 
" Mias Margaret, I cannot help you here. 
1 will do anything by myself. You know I 
tried to go away.” 
"I know it, Susan; but what do you 
mean? Why can’t you help us?” 
“ 1 can’t explain, Miss Margaret. I must 
go, oven if you command me to stay.” 
“Very well, then go." Susan went out 
as quietly as she came in, but she did not 
go out alone. Mr. Brayton followed her.— 
[To be continued. 
-»i »- 
ONE OF WASHINGTON’8 LETTERS. 
comes he hasn’t the moral muscle to row 
against the tide.” 
“ Yes, 1 see. But can ouc blame him ? 
” It is impossible. Pet, to suddenly become 
a perfect gymnast; but it is possible to 
everybody to take the initiatory step*, aud 
then those that follow, imd soon; then one 
finds himself always growing stronger, and 
when tho teat comes he is able to meet it. 
Lons Brayton has all that a man needs, 
but his power is undeveloped. It is in the 
seed. That will not save him from conse¬ 
quences, however. If a child reaches ma¬ 
turity without learning to walk, nature will 
not. make a by-law to provide for hun. 
“ But, Maggie, aren’t we getting meta¬ 
physical?” , . 
‘UY little, I should think; but I like your 
metapkvsios, Alfred. You help me to see 
into things. I must go and look after the 
girls how; we’re going to help Hannibal 
ami Jake decorate the rooms with holly 
and the rest of the Christmas greenery. 
Won’t you come, dear?” 
“No’; I II join you this evening, after all 
the work is done. 1 am in the middle of a 
treatise now that 1 want, to finish, and then 
I'll pur awav inv books for the holidays.” 
Ah, these were jolly times indeed; For 
once there seemed to bo thc right elements 
brought together for enjoyment, with tin- 
exception of Aunt Clara, who would oc¬ 
casionally throw a wet blanket over the 
spirits of the party, by the expression of 
some stupidly conventional idea, in regard 
to social decorum or by null apropos re¬ 
marks in reference to the political situation 
—there would have been no limit to the fun 
and frolic. 
“Don’t mind her," said Margaret, m a 
whisper, to Hope, who stood by her side 
The last issue of Old and New contains 
some letters from Washington, never be¬ 
fore published, which contain much inter¬ 
esting matter. In one of them, written to 
John Mitchell, Feb. 17, 1779, he says:—“I 
wish for as much fur a* will edge a coat, 
waistcoat and breeches; aud that it may be 
sent to me as soon us possible. Let this be 
accompanied by two pounds of starch. * * 
1 must request you to get mo a good hat. 
I do not wish by any means to be in the ex¬ 
treme of fashion, either in the size, or man¬ 
ner of cocking it. Please to examine if any 
of the enclosed tickets have come up prizes, 
and if anything is to be made of them be so 
obliging as to do it for me." 
Many persona will be surprised to find 
that tho Father of his Country indulged in 
lottery tickets. His advice about tho fash¬ 
ion of his hat is good, aud will apply to our 
day. 
-- 
A schoolmaster in Bridgeport, Conn., 
who asked a small pupil of what the surface 
of the earth consists, and was promptly ans¬ 
wered, “land and water," varied the ques¬ 
tion slightly, that the fact might bo impress¬ 
ed on the boy’s mind, and asked,—“What 
then do land and water make ?” to which 
came the immediate response, “Mud." 
- ■+++■ ___ 
Mr. George Grote, the eminent histori¬ 
an, died worth about. $000,000 in personal 
property alone. lie bequeathed the copy¬ 
right of his “ History of Greece” and other 
works and all his books to his wife for her 
life, and after her decease, to the Universi¬ 
ty of Loudon, Burlington Gardens. 
-♦♦♦-—— 
Thihebn women have applied for admis¬ 
sion to the now school of jou nudism at Yale. 
