MOOSE’S RUBAI. WEW-YORKER. 
film would have suffered more than ever, by 
comparison with Miss Sterling, for on her 
cheeks, the roses were always in bloom, 
while Miss Jem 'h wore a pinched and frozen 
look—but then she said " too much color in¬ 
dicated low breeding.” Nettie always 
dressed for her work, and so, at times, did 
look a little “ outlaiulishly,” as some of the 
villagers remarked. That she, at times, 
dressed with exquisite taste and neatness, 
none of 1 horn ever k new, because they never 
came to her house to see; but if they had 
seen the radiant vision that floated through 
the rooms, and sat sometimes, when her 
labor for the day was over, by the bedside 
of her sick husband, they would have 
started in surprise, and, I suppose, would 
never, for one moment, identify her with 
the woman who dressed so “outlandish,” 
and worked in the garden all day. 
Dr. WiLDJtK’K came down on© day in 
great haste. “ What does this mean?” lie 
said. “ I have just learned that you are 
not recognized here in society. Fred Lan- 
ning came into my office to-day; lie lias 
been spending a week with somo cousins in 
Woodvale, and had a glorious time,” ho 
said. “And met all sorts of people, gone 
everywhere, in fact, and liked the place 
muchly.” 1 said it, was a nice place, that I 
had friends living there, and hoped lie had 
met them. Then lie asked me the name of 
my friends, and when 1 told him, he almost 
jumped out of his chair, 
“By jove!” ho said, “It’s a downright 
shame? Sterling! Sterling?” said Fred. 
“ Yes, that’s the name. Dr, Wildrick, if 
they’re friends of yours, my advice is that, 
yon go down to Woodvale and set them 
right, with society there. Why, only Tues¬ 
day night last l wan at, a tea-meeting, or 
some other heathenish affair, and those peo¬ 
ple were literally picked to pieces. Woman 
works for a living, don’t she? raises flowers 
for solo or something like it—and supports 
a sick husband. By Jove! If I’d a’kuown 
she was a friend of yours—well, I did tell 
them that 1 thought she was the ‘ noblest 
Itomau of t hem all,’for I did not believe 
there was one present who could do it if 
they were placed on the list of women with 
sick husbands.” 
“ Of course, Fred raised a ‘ hornet’s nest ’ 
wbont his cars, and lied. But when I leave, 
Mrs. Sterling, the next will lie a fragment¬ 
ary thing, for I’ll have it down, 1 promise 
you.” 
Dr. Wildrick sometimes hit his impulses 
run away wit h Ins judgment. 1 am afraid lie 
would have don© so at this time had it not 
been for the gentle persuasiveness of Mrs. 
Sterling. She told him that she “ didn’t 
care at all about it; that it was much bet¬ 
ter as it was, for it enabled her to devote 
the t ime that she might otherwise have to 
bestow upon company, to her garden. Then, 
too, it will come out- all right: the edict of a 
certain few does not always ‘banish one 
from Koine.’ ” 
Dr. Wit, prick spent the night with the 
Sterlings, and in the morning went back 
to the city, believing more and more in the 
rare good sense which Mrs. Sterling pos¬ 
sessed. 
Mrs. Sterling had succeeded even bet¬ 
ter than she had expected. Her llowers 
thrived finely, and blossomed in profusion. 
Each day she sent to t he city florist a good¬ 
ly number of bouquets, and he readily dis¬ 
posed of them. I think ho took a certain 
pleasure in selling them for her. Perhaps 
this was owing a good deal to Dr. Wild¬ 
rick, who told him so many good things of 
her, as to cause him to think her one of the 
noblest women in the world—as she was. 
The proceeds from the sale of her flowers 
had enabled her to live well, and she had 
already saved over live hundred dollars, 
which she wished to pay the doctor on her 
home. But when she offered it to him, he 
refused it, but told her to use it, in building 
a hot-house for the raising of plants in win¬ 
ter—a plan she had cherished all summer. 
She consulted forthwith the best carpenter 
in the village, and he set about the work at 
once; so that by the latter part of October, 
it was all finished and stocked with plants. 
There were Azalias, Japonicas, Tuberoses, 
Camellias, and other flowers, such as were 
used at funerals and weddings. 
This plan worked charmingly, ami was 
the cause of an ultima to fortune. In the 
winter flowers brought higher prices than 
at any other time; and really this woman’s 
success among them was somcl liing wonder¬ 
ful. “ If her luck should continue,” she 
told her husband, one day, “ she would yet 
be able to take him out to ride in their own 
carriage." 
Edward Sterling looked into his wife’s 
face and smiled. The picture was a bright 
one to think of; but to him it had its cloud. 
He knew that the days of his earthly life 
were numbered. He had in reality gaiiny] 
but little strength, and of late bis cough had 
grown to be something terrible. His face, 
too, wore the hectic flush so common to 
ooiisunipth'es, and his e ves had a longing 
look, as If trying to penetrate into the fu¬ 
ture. lie could not l>cnr to tell Nettie 
that her bright dreams could never bo re¬ 
alized iu regard to him. lie was not blind¬ 
ed ; but then would it be well to add more 
to the burden this woman already had to 
bear? No! With Bud’s help, then, he 
would bear it alone. 
But the child, Birdie, seemed to have a 
dim foreboding that her papa was going to 
leave her — partly from words which he let 
drop at times when he held her upon his 
lap and caressed her. Once—only once—he 
spoke to her of a journey be w as soon to 
take to a far-off land, where the flowers al¬ 
ways blossomed, and there should be no 
pain. 
One glance from her bright eyes into Ids, 
and tluj little head waa pillowed upon his 
shoulder —his face, in touching hers, was 
wet with, tears. After she had cried until 
the tears refused longer to flow, she raised 
her face to his and, with the t enderness that 
only a child’s voice can give to words, -aid: 
“ Papa!—dear, dear papa!—don’t dm! ” 
“ But if God chooses to take me, Birdie?” 
“ Who would take care of me, then, papa?” 
“God!" ' 
“Oh, papa, don’t you love mamma and 
me too well to die ?" 
“ Love mamma and you?-” 
1 lo could find no more words. Only a great 
cry of anguish came from his very soul, and a 
look so imploring that the pari lug might be 
easy to bear wont, up to his Father in 
Heaven. A fter this he never showed her, 
by word or look, how near he felt the part¬ 
ing to be, but wont on trusting in the mercy 
of God to sustain him in the hour of t rial. 
As to Nettie, her belief had been so 
strong that he would got well, as to blind 
Imr eyes to the fact that he was each day 
growing thinner, and thinner. It was, that 
when he did get w ell, he might have every 
chance of enjoyment, that she toiled on 
day by day among the flowers and fainted 
not. 
But one day the awakening came. Her 
golden dream was at an end. When she 
awoke in the morning, she found that, her 
husband could not speak to her—t hat dur¬ 
ing the night he bad been bleeding again, 
lie never did speak to her after that, only 
by signs; and when tile night, came, shut¬ 
ting her iu with its sable mantle, his soul 
passed out and was lost to her in the black¬ 
ness that lay all around, But iu the other 
life it had found the new light. 
CHAPTER IV. 
When Mrs. Sterling came home from 
her husband’s funeral, and entered the 
house where, for so many days and nights 
she had tenderly cared for him, it seemed 
as if every purpose iu life was gone. Ti 
take up the broken threads and go on, alone, 
was no easy thing to do—nerve herself ns 
much as she could for the task. You, u - i ., v> , 
have seen some loved one, for whom v'TTij 
have toiled, and for whom yon lived, laid 
into the grave, will know what this woman 
had to suffer during the first months of her 
widowhood. IT Edward Sterling inul 
been a care, and a trial at times, this 
woman s love had grown stronger at each 
new proof of it. Twenty times, now, in a 
single night, would she awake from a deep 
sleep to answer his fancied call, and then 
fall back upon her pillow, her face bathed 
in tears. 
Birdie was a groat comfort to her; ami 
now that her father was really dead and 
buried, childlike she had, to some extent, 
thrown off the lirst bitterness of grief. So 
she loved to talk of him to her mother, and 
of the home to which he had gone. Once 
she I,old her what he Imd said about the 
llowers that, always bloomed there, and 
wondered “if papa would get rich by selling 
them.” Perhaps this child and her wants 
kept Nellie Sterling from fainting by the 
way. I do not know'. But when the win¬ 
ter bad passed she entered once more upon 
the old life and tended to her flowers as be¬ 
fore. Once she said, “I’m doing this for 
you, Birdie— so that papa's little ghi may 
I go to school and learn how, when she grows 
up. to be a lady.” 
“Like Miss Jelf, mamma?” Birdie 
asked. 
” No, darling. But with the purpose of a 
noble woman, loving at all times to do 
good.” 
Birdie wondered if Miss Jelf was so 
very bad, but did not ask her mother to 
solve, theunystery for her. 
***** * * * 
Two .years have passed since Mr. Sterling 
died. The gloom occasioned by hjs death 
to some extent has gone. Dr. Wildrick 
and his wife came down often now, for the 
latter is in poor health, and these glimpses 
of green fields, the doctor declares, does her 
good. Mrs. Wildrick thinks it is a shame 
that so perfect a woman should be lost SO 
entirely to society, and tolls the doctor at 
each visit that lie must do something to 
break tiie ice that had, ns it were, frozen 
her in from her neighbors. 
It was possible, it seemed. Dr. Wild¬ 
rick had lately sent another patient to 
Woodvale for the recovery of tiis health. 
It was not a ease like Mr. Sterling's; only 
the close confinement to the city and busi¬ 
ness Imd wore upon this man "to such an 
extent as to demand a change of occupa- 
t ion, ir he would be st rong again. This man. 
La roque by name, possessed a large amount 
of wealth, and had a wife who was as rich 
in womanly graces as was her husband in 
gold. Dr. Wildrick had given them the 
history of the Sterlings in full—even to 
the neglect of the village people—and bogged 
that they would see that she no longer 
lacked for friends. Mrs. Laiioqtte prom¬ 
ised that she would see to it that Mrs. Ster¬ 
ling had more than enough—and she kept 
her word. 
Prom the day on which Mrs. La Root te 
• held her first reception, Nettie Sterling 
became one of the stars of Woodvale society 
She was a brilliant, woman at all times but 
now, shorn of the old and faded dresses that 
she usually wore about her work, and 
dressed in a rich purple silk, she was charm¬ 
ing. Mrs. Sterling wore no mourning for 
her husband. She did not believe in it It 
never seemed quite right to her to sit in 
sackclot h and ashes, and dress in sable 
robes, for a soul which had entered into 
glory and walked in robes >>t white. 
Money being the god most worshipped In 
W oodvale, it. was quite an easy task for 
those who might not have admired Nettie 
Sterling for herself to foil down and wor¬ 
ship at the phriue of her bank account, when 
once it became known that site possessed 
such a thing; and during the t wo rears that 
had passed, she had managed to put by a 
considerable sum. Then, too, she had 
bought more land, built more green-houses, 
ami kept two gardeners, and was supposed 
to be rapidly accumulat ing a fortune—which 
supposition was entirely correct. 
Once on the road to fortune, it is easy to 
keep the ball rolling—at least, Nettie found 
it ho. She did not work in the garden now. 
Birdie was away at school; and then, too, 
she felt that the t ime had passed when she 
need delve and toil. So, one day, she sent 
for Bridget Dbi.anv, and that lady sent 
back word:—“ I’m ingaged for the month, 
ma’am; but whin me month is out, I’ll come 
till ye, were yez at the ind of the earth.” 
And come she did. So Nettie, was once 
more provided with help t hat could he de¬ 
pended on ■ a streak of fortune that does 
not befall all good housewives in the nine¬ 
teenth century. 
After Bridget came, Mrs. Sterling hud 
plenty of time to go out, and return calls. 
To this luxury she did not give much atten¬ 
tion, however. 1 think she felt the former 
slights she had received more now than 
when they wore given. Much of her spare 
time was devoted to visiting the sick and 
the poor, though of this latter class Wood¬ 
vale was almost free. 
She had to go often to the city now—for 
good Mrs. Wildrick was very ilL and need¬ 
ed tiie kindly sympathies of one of her own 
sex, and one, too, whom she loved. There 
had always been a strong affection between 
these women; the many little kindnesses 
i he one had given, and the noble nature of 
the other, had cemented the lie between 
them too strongly to be broken. It was 
plain to Dr. WILDRICK that, bis wife could 
never be well again; and yet he did not tell 
her so; but she knew this herseir—a sort of 
subtle knowledge, that conies ofttimea to 
t he sick, had whispered it to her one night, 
and she bowed tier head without a murmur. 
Du the day following that on which this 
knowledge came to her, Mrs. Wildrick call¬ 
ed her husband to her bedside and t old him 
that she felt the shadow of death was draw¬ 
ing nearer and nearer unto her; and that, 
she had one request to make of him. Life 
would be very dreary, left quite along, nud 
so sho wanted him to promise her t hat after 
a suitable time had passed, after she was 
dead. 11nti be would marry Mrs. STERLING — 
the one woman, in nil the world, whom she 
could willingly see in her place. And lie, 
wishing to gratify her every request, prom¬ 
ised her. After this promise had been giv¬ 
en, she seemed to give him up entirely, and 
eaeh day grew weaker, and paler, until the 
end came. 
Two years have passed since Mrs. Wild- 
tui’k lay in her coffin amid rosebuds and 
tuberroses ill the great parlors of the doc¬ 
tor’s house, and to-night the promise made 
to the d> ing wife is to he fulfilled. In her 
own elegant home, Netiie Sterling is 
dressed for her second bridal. < >rauge blos¬ 
soms semi forth their sweet fragrance from 
amid her hair, as she watches from her win¬ 
dow the coming of her promised lord- He 
comes at last., somewhat older looking than 
when first ho met Mrs. .Sterling. His 
hair was black then, now faintly streaked 
with gray. His face, too, bears the marks 
of past suffering and sorrow, and yet a soft, 
refined look, such as those wear who know 
that life is not worth all of this world. He 
takes his place by the Bide of the one woman 
iu all the world dear to him now, and leads 
her into tlio parlor where are assembled the 
ivhite-headea man of God and i lie guests, 
and as they there vow to cherish each other 
until death do them part, they breathe a 
silent prayer to the All-Father who has 
given them this great joy. Of the ones 
gone out from them, ucit her cease to think, 
and both feel and believe they are looking 
down upon their union with approving 
looks. 
A short journey to the sunny South, and 
then Dr. Wildrick will bring his bride to 
his home in the city. The old home at 
Wood vale Nettie intends to keep, and 
they will spend their Summers there. If 
ever Birdie marries, it is the intention of 
her mother t o bestow the Woodvale home 
upon her as a wedding-gift.. But as this 
young lad)' is still at sehool, and does not 
mention the name of a lover in her numer¬ 
ous letters home, that event may be a long 
way off—at least, her mother hopes so. 
At the time of her marriage with Dr. 
Wildrick, Mrs. Sterling had in bank the 
sum of twenty thousand dollars, which he 
lias invested for her in a way that will 
bring a large, interest, and tins amount, to¬ 
gether with the place, she had earned by 
the cultivation and sale of flowers. The 
sale of flowers has now become one of the 
great specialties of the day, and there are 
those who have accumulated wealth there¬ 
by, who can at least acknowledge that much 
of their own success is due to this woman, 
who was one of t he pioneers of the trade. 
Sabbath ,leading. 
THORN-CROWNED. 
BY ANNIE HERBERT. 
On ! Sacrt-d Head that knew no guile, 
And found a thorny pillow— 
Thy lips have taught us how to smile 
In griefs o'orwhelnalng billow; 
But we forget Thy lessons sweet, 
And, looking for the morrow, 
We Jose the footprints of Thy feet. 
That murk t ho sea of sorrow. 
Thou Heart of mercy fathomless, 
And love beyond revealing. 
Our sins and burdens on Thee press— 
They pierced Thee for our healing; 
Thou art our refuge, sure and high. 
When fiereest, tempests gather; 
And there, from Inter floods we fly, 
Remembering our Father. 
Thy thorny crown Is white with stars 
Within the Heaven of glory, 
And Lovo divine, through earthly jars, 
Repeats its lender story : 
The beacon flame of Galilee 
Still burns to cboor our sorrow. 
And feet that, stilled the olden Sea 
Will walk the wave to-morrow. 
- - 
THE SCOPE OF PREACHING. 
A preacher is a teacher; but he is more. 
A teacher brings before men a given view, 
or a department of truth. He expends his 
force upon facts or ideas. But a preacher 
assumes or proves facta and truths as a ve¬ 
hicle through which ho may bring liia spirit 
to bear upon men. A preacher looks upon 
truth from the const ructive point of view. 
He looks beyond mere knowledge to the 
character which that knowledge is to form. 
It is not enough that men shall know. They 
must be. Every stroke of his brush must 
bring out somo element of the likeness to 
Christ which he is seeking to produce* Jio 
is an artist.—not of forms and mutter, but 
of the soul. Every sermon is like the stroke 
of Michael Angelo's chisel, and the hidden 
likeness emerges at. every blow. A teacher 
lias doubtless a remote reference to practi¬ 
cal results; but the preacher, not indiffer¬ 
ent to remote and indirect, results, aims at 
the immediate. “Now! Now!*' is his in¬ 
spiration. “ Cease to do evil, at once. Turn 
toward good immediately. Add strength to 
every excellence, and virtue to \ jrtue, now, 
and continually." The effect of his speech 
upon the souls of men, is his objective. It 
is this moral fruit in men’s souls for which 
i he plants his truth, as so much seed. * * 
The preacher is one who is aiming directly 
at the ennobling of his hearer. Ho seeks to 
do this partly by the use of truth existing 
as a philosophy or ordinary farts, but yet 
more by giving to such truth the glow, and 
color, and intensity, which are derived from 
his own soul, jf one may so say, he digests 
the truth and makes it personal, and then 
brings hie own being lo bear upon that of his 
hearers. All true preaching bears t he impress 
of the nature of the preacher. “ Christ in 
you." The truth is t hat which is represent¬ 
ed in JestiH Christ, but it is that truth*' in 
you,*' or an it exists iu each man’s person¬ 
ality, which makes it a living force.— Beech¬ 
er's Lectures on Preach iny. 
♦ «■»-■ 
The Day of Best.— Never was there a 
more blessed institution than the Sunday, 
the sacred day of rest from labor. For the 
soul’s health and the body's health of the 
human race, on at least, one da.y in the seven 
there should be an ever-recurring intermis¬ 
sion of daily toil. Thus, let a man attain to 
the period of three score years and ten, he 
has gained a holiday of ten years’ duration, 
even if his lot has been labor for the remain¬ 
ing three score years. Let childhood be 
taught to use, and manhood discreetly use, 
this blessed breathing time, as a. day on 
which to raise the thoughts beyond the 
world, not less than for rest from labor and 
mental anxiety. 
-■*-*-*- 
Dr. Johnson, when in indigent circum¬ 
stances, was offered a rectory if he would 
enter into orders. But th is great man, sen¬ 
sible, as is supposed of the asperity of his 
temper, declined it, saying: “1 have not 
the requisites for the office, and I cannot in 
my conscience shear the flock which I am 
unable to feed." Well would it have been 
for the church of Christ had all who have 
entered her ministry been equally conscien¬ 
tious. 
- - -♦♦♦ 
Humility is a grace that adorns and beau¬ 
tifies every other grace; without it, the most 
splendid natural and acquired acquisitions 
lose their charm. 
-♦♦♦- 
Very few in the world have their passions 
adequately occupied; almost every body 
has it in them to be better than they are. 
