7 202 
MOORE’S RURAL HEW-YORKEB. 
MARSH 23 
pected, she half moved aside from the en¬ 
trance, and, considerably emboldened, Han¬ 
nibal said, persuasively: 
‘“If he bo brack, Hannibal no drone; 
Miss M aroaret here can tell ole Missus dat. 
He hub no dirt round where he be.” 
The landlady began to have a dawning 
consciousness that the old man might be of 
service to her, and then her tactics changed. 
“Well, 'sposo you take another look at 
the rooms. I dont believe you’ll get better 
suited. 8o you stay with them all the 
time?” she said to Hannibal, taking in at 
one glance the odd cleanliness of his ap¬ 
pearance. 
“Oh yes. Missus, Hannibal stay wid 
dem to do end, please de good Horn). Hut 
he not be in de way. He strong and willing, 
and lie take great pleasure in helping ole 
Missus any time;” and the autiquuted bea¬ 
ver was lifted with a reverence that flat¬ 
tered t he landlady immensely. 
This little skirmish ended in an engage¬ 
ment of the premises, and Maggie and the 
faithful servant went back to the hotel, 
and to Mrs. Heatherstone and Harry, 
full of enthusiasm about the bright little 
home they would soon have. The encoun¬ 
ter with Mrs. Green, the landlady, was 
faithfully served up for the delectation of 
“mamma,” but the poor lady saw little to 
amuse in the adventures of her daughter 
with a vulgar woman. 
“ 1 suppose I ought to try and be sat isfied, 
if I can have the rest of my children near 
me, and Susan to wait on me when I am ill; 
but there’s one comfort, it won’t last long;” 
and Mrs. 11EATHEUSTONE went off into her 
regulation paroxysm of nervous woeping. 
M abo A RET left her mother with Susan, 
and taking IIakky, went out to show him 
the new premises, and to arrange for set¬ 
tling in the little home as speedily as possi¬ 
ble. There is a sort of enthusiasm and 
piquancy in malting much out of little, that 
the rich never know. One grows really 
happy in comparing, planningand selecting, 
provided there is no mean feeling of envy to 
combat with, and no desire to please Other 
people at the expense of one’s self-respect. 
There is a pleasure iu attending to all the 
little details, and surprising ourselves with 
the extent of our own resources, that is 
never known to the rich, who give an order I 
and find everything perfect, Margaret | 
fiad no idea of her ability, till she began to 
furnish her new domain, and Hahhv could 
never praise her enough for her taste, her 
patience, her invention, and everything else 
that a woman could, by any stretch of the 
imagination, be supposed to possess. 
“ o, woman. In our hours of ease. 
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please; 
When poverty gives us a grip, 
Slit; takes the helm and steers t he ship." 
“How's that for a parody?” said Harry, 
gaily, to Mrs. IIeatheiistone, as Maggie 
sat on the bare floor of the little parlor, iu 
No.-, sewing the seams of a pretty in¬ 
grain carpet. 
Mrs. Heatherstone did not smile in re¬ 
ply. She never smiled now-e-days. “I’m 
glad,” said she, “ that you and Maggie are 
so gay over our misfortunes. It’s better 
that you should be, and natural. 1 suppose; 
you are young and full of hope. I have 
nothing t o hope for. If T could see poor Al- 
ehed once more, I should be ready to die.” 
“ O, mother,” said Harry, “ it’s too bad 
to be always making clouds. See, you havo 
mado Maggie cry,” and Harry went out 
of the room, indignant, saying in his heart, 
that he'd like to know if the woman hadn’t 
always been ready to die. As far back as 
he could remember, when her family were 
all around her, she had been the same limp, 
hopeless ’woman, with nerves and a head¬ 
ache. “Poor Maggie will have a hard 
time," he went ou thinking, “ but 1 must 
be mother and brother and husband, all in 
one. The dear girl ! Who would havo 
thought her capable of so much independ¬ 
ence, and possessed of so much resource?” 
In spite of the cross-grained quality of 
Mrs. Green, sho proved to be a stanch 
friend, lavishing on Susan, in particular, 
more kindness than one would have sup¬ 
posed her capable of giving. 
“I always hated niggers,” said she to her 
one day, confidentially, watching Hannibal 
as he Hobbled down stairs after coal; “ but 
that good old man don’t seem like one of 
’em. lie’s black enough, though, goodness 
knows. Do you know.” she continued, 
profoundly, “I begin to think that the real 
niggers are well enough; it's the mixing 
that spoils them. These yellow, half-and- 
half things 1 abominate, don’t you?" 
Susan listened patiently, remembering 
that sho was only an eighth “thing.” It 
had been arranged in the family that Su¬ 
san’s birth should be unknown in her new 
home, and she was believed to be a cousin 
of the IIeatherstone’s — a Mrs. IIart- 
WELL, whose husband had died in the 
Southern army. 
While Maggie and Hahry were selecting 
furniture, manufacturing lounges and easy 
chairs, fitting carpets and banging draperies, 
feeling something of the pride and import¬ 
ance of proprietors, Ned was ou his way to 
the Western town where Hope, now almost 
hopeless, worked day by day in her little 
private school. More discouraged than 
usual, she had dismissed her last class, and 
had gone to her boarding place, feeling that 
it would be sweet to go to sleep that night 
and never wake again. She had been home 
but a few minutes when the servant an¬ 
nounced— 
“ A gentleman for you, Miss.” 
“For me?” the poor child ejaculated, as 
if that were an Impossible thing. Then a 
wild thought of Alfred Hashed through 
her brain, and with her heart, beating tu¬ 
multuously, she went down to the parlor. 
“O, Ned! ” 
“O, Hope! ” 
“Didn’t you expect me, darling?” said 
Ned, after the first tears and kisses and 
fond ejaculations were over. “ I wrote 
you a week ago that we were all in New 
York.” 
“No, Ned, 1 didn’t expect you, I had 
given up expecting anything. The last time 
I heard from you, you were in t he hospital.” 
“ And didn’t you receive my letter from 
Virginia, when 1 was at the Heatiieu- 
ktones’ ?” 
“No. It is very strange; and not so 
strange after all; for letters often miscarry. 
I have you at last, safe and well. But-” 
Hope couldn’t finish the sentence, only 
with the imploring look in her sad eyes. 
Ned understood. “ No,” he said, his voice 
tremulous with sympathy, “ I can tell you 
nothing of Alfred.” 
“ I shall never see him again,” said Hope. 
“That is not certain. There is always 
hope, till you absolutely know to the con¬ 
trary. There are a thousand ways by which 
we might lose trace of each other, and ho 
still bo living. Take courage, dear Hope. 
Be yourself. Be Hope. We can’t tell what 
the future may bring. Only think what to¬ 
day brought you. You’re glad to see your 
poor, harum-scarum Ned, are you not?” 
“ (), so glad! And 1 was so discouraged 
when you came." 
“That is the moment when the relief 
comes—the moment of deepest trial. You 
see, I’m turning philosopher. But I’ve 
learned a great deal since you saw me, Hope 
darling.” 
“Sorrow is a stern teacher, Ned; but she 
teaches what no oue else can. We ought to 
learn all her lessons patiently; but I am 
getting tired of the discipline. Ob, I was 
tired; I’m so much happier now, since you 
came.” 
"But, Hope, how about business?" said 
the boy, giving his sister a little hug in ac¬ 
knowledgment of her last sweet words. 
“Can you give up your school and go to 
New York with me? Maggie is dying to 
de seed, and do de right ting wid de seed, it 
de same as if you hab de fruit. Now, dat 
ole Massa Grant, he gib you de seed al¬ 
ready.” 
This philosophy could not be gainsayed, 
and the boys began their work with Btout 
hearts. 
It wanted hut a week of the time of 
Hope's coming, when Ned went to the St. 
Nicholas one night to meet an old friend, 
and on turning the leaves of the register 
listlessly, after having satisfied himself of 
his friend's arrival, bi« eye suddenly fell 
upon the name of Alfred Heatherstone. 
The date was a week back. “ He has been 
here and gone South," thought he; and 
then turning almost fiercely to the clerk, he 
demanded some explanation, telling him iu 
a few words of ids great anxiety. 
The clerk remembered nothing that could 
satisfy the questions so eagerly poured out. 
But after an hour’s investigation it was 
ascertained that a man, looking so sick that 
it did not seem possible he could live a 
week, had registered himself, through his 
servant, as Alfred Heatherstone, had 
staid at the hotel two days, keeping his 
room all the time, and had left to go no one 
knew whither.—LConcluded next week. 
ANECDOTE OF ALEXIS. 
A CHARACTERISTIC story is told of the 
Grand Duke Alexis, who is in the naval 
service. A year or two ago, when holding 
the rank of midshipman, the tlag-ship in 
which he was serving was wrecked on the 
coast of Denmark. The admiral ordered 
the life-boats to be lowered, and directed 
Alexis to take charge of the first, boat. The 
royal midshipman declined to obey the or¬ 
der. It was peremptorily repeated — “I, 
your commanding officer, order you into the 
boat." 
“ Admiral, I cannot obey you," said the 
young prince. “ It would not become the 
son of tlie emperor to be the first to leave 
the ship. 1 shall remain with you to the 
last." 
“ But I shall put you under arrest for dis¬ 
obedience of orders as soon as circumstances 
will allow me to do so.” 
“ I mean uo disobedience, I cannot obey,” 
was the reply. 
Four or five of the crew perished in the 
4-ir:msll from ship to shore, and the admiral 
and Alexis were the last to land. In hast ily 
constructed tents the rigid discipline of 
ship-life was promptly resumed. The young 
prince was placed under arrest for dis¬ 
obedience of orders. The Russian minister 
at Copenhagen was informed of the facts, 
and telegraphed t hem to the emperor, from 
whom he received the following reply“ I 
approve the act of the admiral in placing 
the midshipman under arrest for disobedi¬ 
ence of orders, and I bless and kiss my sou 
for disobeying them.” 
-♦♦♦- 
GENUINE ELOQUENCE. 
see you." 
“ It is impossible to give up my school im¬ 
mediately. The term is out in four weeks, 
and I can, in the meantime, make arrange¬ 
ments to go back with you, if you come for 
me then.” 
“ Certainly, little sis. And I will spare no 
pains to find some trace of our lost boj*. We 
shall find him. be sure.” 
After a two days’ visit, during which time 
Ned told HOPE all his experiences, in field 
and hospital; all about Maggie and the 
Heatherstone trials, and she had, in turn, 
confided to him all that had been so long 
shut up iu her lonely heart, the brother 
went to New York to lay plana with Harry 
for the support of their loved ones. He 
found the little family cosily established, 
and hopeful, with Maggie as director, and 
Susan aud Hannibal brave and able co¬ 
adjutors. Through the assistance of old 
friends of the Arnolds, Ned aud Harry 
secured clerkships in a large, up-town house, 
and entered cheerfully upon their duties, 
looking forward to a brighter day, when 
they should open a business for themselves. 
“I shall look after you, boys,” said old 
Mr. Grant, who had used his influence in 
their behalf. “A good clerk will make a 
good man of business, and vice, versa. You 
need training. If you stand that well, why 
then-” Here the old man winked aud 
went away. 
"Dat means money,” said Hannibal, 
when Harry told the story before him of 
the old fellow’s patronage. “ Dose winks 
be mighty fat tings when de milliumaires 
’dulge in urn. No need for you aud Massa 
Ned to fret. Hannibal alius know’d dis 
family come up when de time come.” 
“ But, Hannibal, we’re not up very far 
yet.” 
“ Just de same ting, ’zactly. If you hab 
Leitii, iu his travels in Ireland, says : 
“In my morning rambles, a man sitting ou 
the ground, leaning his back against the 
wall, attracted my attention, by a look of 
squalor in his appearance which 1 had rare¬ 
ly observed, even in Ireland. His clothes 
were ragged to indecency, and his face was 
pale and sickly. He did not address me, 
but having gone a few paces, my heart smote 
me, and l turned back. 
" If you are iu waut,” said I, with a de¬ 
gree of peevishness, “ why don’t you beg?” 
“Sure, it’s bogging I am,” was the quick 
reply. 
“You did not utter a word.” 
“No! Is it joking j'ou are with me, sir? 
Look hero! ” ho said, holding up the tattered 
remnant of what had once been a coat, "do 
you see how the skin is speaking through 
the holes in my trowsers, and the bones cry¬ 
ing out through my skin ? Look at my sunk¬ 
en cheeks and the famine that’s staring in 
my eyes. Man alive! isn’t it begging I am, 
with a hundred tongues?” 
--- 
Friendship has the skill aud observation 
of the best physician, the diligence and vigi¬ 
lance of the best nurse, and the tenderness 
and patience of the best mother. 
-- 
Great events may be traced back to great 
thoughts, which stand to them in the same 
relat ion as obscure progenitors to illustrious 
descendants. 
•- *>4 - 
11 e that is good will infallibly become bet¬ 
ter, and he that is bad will as certainly be¬ 
come worse; for vice, virtue, and time, are 
three things that never stand still.— Colton, 
-- 
Little Things. —As daylight can be seen 
through very small holes, so little things 
will illustrate a person’s character. 
A PATRIOT'S PRAYER. 
Gon, who shields our noble Land 
Sprend o’er Summit, Vale, and Strand, 
Holy Hope, and Peace for all. 
lloar this prayer, inspire the Soul! 
Be our Faith as pure and truo 
As the Heaven's spotless hluc. 
And lot Charity abound 
Everywhere—the world around. 
Keep us peaceful, glad, and free, 
Glorious In Liberty! 
Home of Freedom, ever croud, 
God protect our happy Land ! 
And as Science shall ascend 
Human Errors to amend. 
And as Knowledge lifts the veil 
Human Follies to curtail, 
And as Thought, in full array 
Shall eive action proper sway, 
And as Liberty of Speech 
Shall u* Virtue's Beauties teach. 
So, Oh God ! let all rejoice. 
Prulsc Thee with a Nation's Voice! 
Let us not by feeble Bands 
Bind to us all other Lands; 
But lot Soul to Soul be bound 
Uncontrolled by Charts or Sound; 
O’er the Earth, where Man doth dwell. 
Let our Hearts In Friendship swell. 
Keep us peaceful, glad, and free, 
Glorious In Liberty: 
Home of Freedom ! our own Land, 
God preserve thee over grand ! 
[J. D. Reymcrt. 
-♦•*“*- 
BELIEF IN GOD AN INSTINCT. 
Some who have ctilled themselves philos¬ 
ophers have saiil t hat society is artificial— 
the natural condition of man being that of 
seclusion and solitude, and social existence 
being a device to avoid certain inconveni¬ 
ences and secure certain comforts. This 
theory, if it ever found serious acceptance, 
was long ago given up. it is acknowledged 
that the individual by himself is not com¬ 
plete; that we are naturally, as well as by 
grace, members one of another. Solitude 
is, therefore, one of the shortest roads to 
the mad-house. The marvelous gift of lan¬ 
guage, the Instrument of social intercourse, 
is the testimony of nature that we exist for 
this end; for it is hardly probable that, this 
wonderful power was given us that we might 
indulge iu soliloquies. Place a human being 
in utter solitude; suppose him to be igno¬ 
rant that other beings like himself exist— 
the sense of loneliness, the vague but intense 
craving for social converse, the deep yearn¬ 
ing of his soul, testify that he is out of his 
element, that he has lost part of his being. 
There is an unfulfilled exertlou, a search¬ 
ing, unresting desire. So it Is iu respect 
to religion. The state of man without re¬ 
ligion, without God, is similar. Our belief 
in God does not appear at first in the form 
of a deduction, in the form of a proposition, 
but in the form of trust, reverence, fear, 
gratitude, supplication, in the form of de¬ 
pendence aud obligation; in the same way 
that the social instinct makes itself mani¬ 
fest iu the child reaching out and groping 
for another.— Prof (J. P. Fisher . 
-♦♦♦-- 
THE PRECISE DATE OF CHRIST’S CRUCI¬ 
FIXION. 
A distinguished German scholar, Herr 
Kelk, in a recently published work, consid¬ 
ers that, he has settled the true date of the 
crucifixion. He shows that there was a to¬ 
tal eclipse of the moon concomitant with 
the earthquake when Julius Ctesar was as¬ 
sassinated ou the 15th of March, B. C. 41. 
He has also calculated the Jewish calendar 
to A. D. 24, aud the results of his researches 
confirm the facts recorded by the Evange¬ 
lists, of the wonderful physical events that 
accompanied the crucifixion. His astro¬ 
nomical calculations also show that on the 
L5th of April A. D. .'11, there was a total 
eclipse of the sun, accompanied, in all prob¬ 
ability, by the earthquake spoken of in 
Matthew. This mode of reckoning is veri¬ 
fied by another calculation, made by calcu¬ 
lating backward from the great total eclipse 
of 1818, which also gives April 5th as the 
date of the new moon A. D. 31. As the ver¬ 
nal equinox of the year fell on March 26, 
and the Jews ate their Easter lamb and cel¬ 
ebrated their Feast and Passover on the fol¬ 
lowing new moon, it is clear April 5 was 
identified with Gisan lltli of the Jewish cal¬ 
ender, which moreover was on Friday, the 
day of preparation for the Sabbath, aud 
this agrees with the Hebrew Talmud, ro 
that astronomy, archaeology, traditional and 
Bible histoyy seem to unite in fixing the 
date of the crucifixion at April, A. 1). 31.— 
-- 
Not Enough.— How many toil on, dis¬ 
quiet, and harass themselves, as if desper¬ 
ately struggling against poverty, at the same 
time that they are surrounded with abun¬ 
dance ; have not only enough, but more than 
enough—far more, iu fact, than they actu¬ 
ally enjoy. 
