MOOBE’S B y BAL NEW-YORKER. 
So Bbo was called Mixwe, and, as I have 
ea\d before, she longed for beautiful things, 
and also to be loved, both of which desires 
were gratified in a degree very moderate 
indeed. I will not say her parents did not 
love her; value they certainly did, both 
from a sense of her usefulness as a manual 
automaton and a vague appreciation of in- 
telloctuai worth. But in their hard, toll- 
some lives good things wero so uncommonly 
scarce that the news of an active, live bit of 
talent alighting by their hearthstone was 
believed too good to bo true. So, half of 
need and half neglect, they shut their prac¬ 
tical eyes and unbelieving hearts to the state 
of things existing, and sought to train the 
damsel’s hands and rivet her energies to all 
the due housewifely theories and practices. 
The restless soul that sat enthroned in the 
brown eyes declined steadfastly the honor, 
and obstinately bowed to the bent of its 
own sweet will, as well as the upstream 
tendency and divers small obstacles per¬ 
mitted. 
“Sweep, cook, make garden, bed-quilts 
and grand dresses,—go to church and listen 
to the preacher preach his sermons," was 
the Code. 
“Sing, do work by violent, spasmodical 
attacks, read, think, talk to nature and let 
her talk to you,” said Instinct. I think In¬ 
stinct was a little wrong, but a great deal 
right. 
“ You will be lit beggary by and by,” 
menaced the Code; but the sweet Inner 
voice whispered: “ Follow on, seek the 
pure.” And with divided aim she went 
through t he days, listlessly, waiting—" wait¬ 
ing for something to happen.” 
It is a fearful thing for this kind of deso¬ 
late “ waiting" to visit a young spirit in its 
bud-time. Heart-loneliness is sad, full sad 
to bear; but oh! the fearfulest sigh ever 
wrung from mortal lips is that which 
breathes (be anguish of a young, faithless 
and despairing heart. 1 know not whether 
I should say Minnie had never loved, or 
t hat she had always loved. T think she was 
born overflowing wit h affection, aud she lav¬ 
ished it freely upon everything that did not 
resent it. Birds, bees, blossoms; things 
helpless and grotesque, all come in for ap¬ 
preciation, all requited. Red-robin drop¬ 
ped from his perch to the lowest, twig of 
the plum tree to trill her a voluntary. 
Sagely blinked the brown toad as he sat by 
t he door stone and dreamed of rare crumbs 
from her fingers. The flowers she stole time 
to tend breathed their grateful inceuse, and 
she sung on, in a kind of negative happiness 
that hold possibilities for either grand en¬ 
joyment or fearful agony. 
To-uigbt, as she sat alone, a thousand mi¬ 
nor keys were being touched by the spirit 
she was wooing. Visions of what her life 
had been—of what it might be. No wonder 
her soul rebelled at its fetters; yet under¬ 
neath all ran a sweet melody of gratitude 
for blessings, 
“(_), what a joy to exist!” she murmured 
rapturously; ",Some lime 1 shall he free, 
shall mount to t he glittering stars and t rack 
the wind spirits to their homes. Oh! how 
tratisoendeutally glorious to bo immortal!" 
She sprang up in an ecstasy of delight , as 
if to rid herself of the clinging weight of 
flesh, then sank again upon her knees, hot 
tears bursting up. 
"How hard to be alone!” moaned the 
quivering lips. "If only some one would 
think aud feel as 1 do—would pity and 
guide me." 
Very tenderly over her soul broke the 
music of a still small voice, whispering: 
"Cast thy burdens on the Loud.” With 
frame bowed and tremulous she wept her 
sorrows out before the All-loving Heart, 
aud when she arose a sweet t rust, a holy 
confidence, enveloped her as a mantle. All 
through her dre3ms wound the stream of 
new, strange peace, and her awakening ut¬ 
terance was one of thankfulness and won¬ 
drous bliss. With her, believing was doing, 
aud she carried her faith continually about 
her, nothing changed, save a gentler, more 
patient tone and added earnestness. 
A year, a whole year passed and again the 
early blooms were bursting forth. In the 
j sweet Sabbath evening calm, Minnie wan¬ 
dered forth, as was her delight, to seek 
the first opening violets in the pastures. 
Close by the brook-side she found them— 
gems of starry beauty, all mirrored iu the 
clear pure tide. Her song ceased, her eager 
fingers sprang forward to gather the blue 
delights, and a joyous ripple—a song with¬ 
out. words—broke from her lips. 
Long she sat, among them, forgetting her¬ 
self, everything, in her child-like pleasure. 
They, like all sweet finger-prints of the Cre¬ 
ator, only lifted her thoughts from per¬ 
ishable things to the changeless glories 
i of that fair country to which she was, all 
unconsciously, fast hastening, Her heart, 
full of deep emotion, welled over, and her 
thoughts fouud utterance as to some listen¬ 
ing creature. 
“Oh! if I could only take you with me, 
could find you there,” she exclaimed at last. 
" It seems so hard that pure beauty like 
yours should be fading, while I so gross, so 
unlovely, may be exalted to immortality, 
and learn and grow wiser all through eter¬ 
nity. Aud 1 shall find those there who will 
understand me.” 
“God grant It!” uttered, a voice at her 
side, so tender, so full of sympathy that it 
scarcely surprised her in her reverie. Look¬ 
up she beheld a face reflecting all the varied 
feeling that was playing upon her own; and 
the stranger continued, a» be gathered up a 
handful of blooms that had fallen from her 
lap and held them in his grasp,— 
'* 1 owe you an apology for my accidental 
Intrusion, but 1 hasten from that to offer 
you thanks. A nature like yours will not 
regret betrayal when you know how deeply 
your words have comforted me, soothed me, 
as none ever have before. Longings and 
loneliness like yours have been my lot. To 
the stir of a busy world 1 have ever been 
alone, and my heart has cried restlessly for 
sympathy. Here I have found It — full, 
pure. 1 would have retired at the sound of 
your voice, but my spirit stayed to drink 
the sweetness it forever craved. Forgive 
me, and again let me thank you." 
Her eyes were dimmed by tears < f unut¬ 
terable feeling. She would have answered, 
but her voice refused utterance. He took 
her hand, warming it iu his clasp for an in¬ 
stant. and was gone. 
In the gray dawn, amidst the hum and 
bustle of the farm-house duties, Minnie 
was missing from her place, and when they 
sought, they found her lying very still and 
white, with a strange radiance in her eyes. 
*■ Not sick, but. very, very tired." 
All day long she lay like a thirsty, droop¬ 
ing flower, her flushed cheek crushing the 
wilted violets that strewed her pillow. 
Her sister, substantial, bluritly-Uind dupli¬ 
cate of her parents, moved Wonderingly 
about, and "could not see how she was sick 
—she did not complain." Good, (Spirit- 
blind creature! None were swifter than 
she to minister to bodily suffering, but the 
meaning of mental anguish, a t hirsting for 
soul-food, she had never felt—could not un¬ 
derstand. So she brushed the shriveled 
bits from her pillow aud snowy spread, 
brought up such tempt ing food as her t.aet 
suggested, bathed the hot forehead, and 
left her to herself. 
Evening came, and again the dawn. Still 
Minnie was no better, They must hare a 
physician. They had little use, ordinarily, 
for such aids; colds and toothaches wet— 
the prevailing diseases in the Dale family, 
and were, unexceptionally, repulsed by sea¬ 
sonable resorts to penny-royal tea and hot, 
poultices. But they " must have a doctor ” 
now, and accordingly a farm hand was dis¬ 
patched to the village for such representa¬ 
tive of bis skill as could be easiest found. 
Soon he came, and the eagerly outstretched 
hand, the smile on the weary face of the 
patient, girl, tile quick flash of pain t hat 
crossed his, were the mutual signs of recog¬ 
nition. 
He replied to their anxious questionings, 
giving such explanations as they could best 
understand. "Her frame was exhausted, 
her strength goue.” He left a simple pre¬ 
scription, and recommended physical quiet 
and cheerfulness. 
Da's passed, and she did recover. Dr. 
IIallksi sat for hours at her couch, talking 
of the things she liked, reading from poems 
that thrilled her through and through, aud 
her soul was in ecstasy. But she would uot 
gain strength. At last, one day he threw 
aside his book, aud bent over her in anguish. 
"Minnie, sweet sister of my soul," lie 
cried, " is. there no hope! Will you not re¬ 
turn to me V Gil 1 come back to happiness— 
it is ours." 
She smiled wearily, lifting her hands to 
his. Fully and well had their souls under¬ 
stood, though language had been idle. " It 
is too late, she replied, piteously, “too 
late now; but by-and-by we may talk and 
roam together. Do uot grieve. My mem¬ 
ory will be vo you what you are to me as I 
near t he crossing." 
She bade them all good-by, and grieved to 
see their hearts so full of pain. " And now 
sing to me,” she said, as her face lit up with 
an unearthly brightness. 
Not m his ow n strength, but in a prayer- 
wrought power, rose the grand voice of Dr. 
Paul IIallem in holy song, and when he 
had coated, the hand that lay in his had 
loosened its forever. 
—-- 
Let us not love those things much which 
we are not sure to live long to love, nor have 
long if we should.— Fuller, 
CAUGHT IN HIS OWN TRAP. 
A girl, young aud pretty, aud above all 
gifted with an air of admirable candor, late¬ 
ly presented herself before a Parisian law¬ 
yer. 
" Monsieur, I have come to consult you 
on a grave affair. I want you to oblige a 
man 1 love to marry me iu spite of himself. 
How shall I proceed?” 
The gentleman of the bar bad, of course, 
a sufficiently clastic conscience. Ho re¬ 
flected a moment, and then being sure that 
no one overheard him, replied hesitatingly: 
“ Mademoiselle, according to our law, you 
always possess the means of forcing a man 
to marry you. You must, remain on three 
occasions alone with him; you can then go 
before a judge and swear that he is your 
lover!” 
" And will that suffice, Monsieur?” 
"Yes, Mademoiselle, with one further 
condition.” 
“ Well?” 
" Then you will produce witnesses who 
will make oatli to having seen you remain a 
good quarter of an hour with the individual 
said to have trifled with your affections.” 
“Very well, Monsieur, 1 will retain you 
as counsel in the management of this affair. 
Good day.” 
A few days afterwards the young lady re¬ 
turned. She was mysteriously received by 
the lawyer, who scarcely gave her time to 
seat herself, questioned her with the most 
lively curiosity. 
"Capital! capital! Persevere in your 
design, Mademoiselle, but the next time 
you come to consult me, give me the name 
of the young man you are going to make so 
happy in spite of himself.” 
A fortnight afterwards the young lady 
knocked at trie door of the counsel’s room. 
No sooner was she in than she flung herself 
Into a chair, saying that the walk had made 
her breathless. Her counsel tried to reas¬ 
sure her, made her inhale salts, and even 
proposed to loosen her garments. 
“ It is useless, Monsieur,” she said, " 1 am 
much better." 
" Well, now tell me the name of the for¬ 
tunate mortal.” 
" Well, then, the fortunate mortal, be it 
known to you, is yourself!” said the young 
beauty bursting into a laugh, “I love you, I 
have been here three times tete-a-tete wit h 
you, and my four witnesses are below, ready 
and willing to accompany mo to a magis¬ 
trate," gravely continued the narrator. 
The lawyer, thus caught, had t ho good sense 
not to get angry. The most singular fact of 
all is, that lie adores his young wife, who 
makes an excellent housekeeper. 
-♦♦♦- 
THE BENEFITS OF WALKING. 
Walking briskly, wit ban exciting object 
or pleasurable interest ahead, is the most 
healthful of all forms of excorcise except 
t hat of encouragingly remunerative, steady 
labor iu the open air; and yet. multitudes 
in the city, whose health urgently requires 
exercise, seldom walk when they can ride, 
if the distance is a mile or more. It is worse 
in the country, especially with the well-to- 
do; a horse or carriage must, be brought to 
t he door even if less distance has t o be pass¬ 
ed. Under the conditions first named walk¬ 
ing is a bliss; it gives animation to the mind, 
it vivifies the circulation, it paints the cheek 
and sparkles the eye, and wakes up the 
whole being, physical, mental, aud moral. 
We know a family of children in this city 
who, from the age of seven, had to walk 
nearly two miles to school, w'inter and sum¬ 
mer ; Avhcther sleet, or storm, or rain, or 
burning sun, t hey made it an ambition nev¬ 
er to stay away from school on account of 
the weather, and never to be "late;" and 
one of them was heard to boast that iu sev¬ 
en years it had never been necessary to give 
an "excuse" for being one minute behind 
time, even although iu winter it was neces¬ 
sary to dress by gas-light. They did not 
average two days sickness iu a year, and 
later t hey thought uothiug of walking tweh-e 
miles at a time in the Swiss mountains. 
Sometimes they would be caught in drench¬ 
ing rains, and wet to the skin; on such oc¬ 
casions they made it a point to do one thing, 
let it rain, and trudged on more vigorously 
until every thread was dry before they 
reached home. 
-«*-♦-♦- 
One of the young Japanese girls has a 
brother in New Haven, who has requested 
that his sister may be kept out of his sight, 
as he no longer cared to look upon her after 
she had so far lowered herself as to seek an 
education. 
-♦♦♦- \ 
It is said a new woman’s rights paper, to 
be called the New Times, will soon appear 
i in New York. 
THE BREAD OF THE HOLY YODOKEES. 
FROM THE GERMAN OF llOSEGAHTEN. 
To prow ills servants 1 truth and love, 
The Loan, tn beggar's plight. 
Hungry and blind and lame, appeared 
To good Yodoke.es' sight. 
“ Give,” cried the saint. The steward said : 
" One loaf alone Is found. 
What will remain for thee and me 
And for ottr faithful hound ?” 
" Give,” said the abbot, ” without stint, 
The I,<nu> will send us more." 
The steward took the knife and cut 
The loaf In pieces four; 
And, turning to the beggar, said, 
A little frowningly, 
“ Thou one, the holy abbot one. 
Two for the hound and me.” 
Ere long the beggar came again. 
More wretched than before, 
“ Give him my piece,” the abbot said, 
“ The Lord will send us more.” 
Naked and starving, still again 
He waited at the door. 
" Give him thy piece, good steward, give, 
The LoJkU will send us more.” 
He came the fourth time. “ Steward, give 
The hound's piece for his need,” 
The abbot said ; " the Loud will care 
Who doth the ravens feed.” 
The beggar went. A voice was heard : 
“ My son, thy love 1 see, 
Disciple true, as Is thy faith, 
So shall it be to thee." 
The steward to the window run. 
And, on the stream near by. 
Loaded with corn, nnd oil, and wine. 
Four little ships did lie. 
He hastened joyous to the strand, 
Rut saw no man ; Instead, 
Upon a white Hag, wrought with gold. 
In tlumlng words he read : 
“ He who the hungry raven feeds 
Sends four ships to thy shore, 
For thee, the steward and the hound ; 
The fourth one for His poor.” 
Fanny M. Barton. 
-♦w-*- 
THE GIRONDOLA. 
The grand fire-works, which annually 
take place Monday evening after Easter, in 
Home, at the expense of the Government, 
tire very superb. 
At the moment, the clock of Santa Maria 
del Popolo struck the hour of eight, a lurid 
glow shot athwart the Plnclan, the loud re¬ 
port of three cannons, followed simultane¬ 
ously by a shower of rockets, gave the sig¬ 
nal ; and with the same magical rapidity as 
marked the golden lighting up of St. Pe¬ 
ter’s, the "New Jerusalem” in glorious 
beauty stood revealed. There it was—its 
lofty pinnacles, its streets of jasper, audits 
gates of pearl, as shown to the Evangelist 
St.John by the angel! And on a rising 
mound of glory stood St. John, while by his 
side a Being all glorious, with wings of sil¬ 
ver, was pointing to this city of the Great 
King. 
We were permitted to gaze on this beauti¬ 
ful scene for five minutes, when it gradually 
faded away and away, until, with the last 
faint glimmer, there shot into the air long 
streams of fire, breaking into myriads of 
many-colored stars flashing through golden 
rain! Again the cannon pealed, aud rockets 
like the tails of comets trailed across the 
heavens; aud then we saw another palace 
of a ruby hue, transparent, beautiful; oA T er 
the entablature was written in letters of 
gold. “ Viva Pio Nono,” surmounted by 
the papal arms, at which the band struck 
up the national air. This vanished, aud 
instantly the heavens were brilliant with 
sheets of variegated tire, in form like im¬ 
mense bouquets, from which little meteors, 
like birds, would suddenly dart and skim 
down to earth, or soaring higher, would 
shake down tiny particles of light, as it 
might be shivers from a rainbow. 
Again the booming cannon aud the hiss¬ 
ing, flashing rocket; and now the whole 
front of the Pincian was one scene of blazing 
wheels, spinning round and round with 
ever-increasing speed, dropping sparks of 
gold and silver; and then from each cylin¬ 
der suddenly burst forth streams of fire of 
every hue, mounting high in the air, and 
then, with a deafening explosion, forming 
into crowns and wreaths of tin* most rav¬ 
ishing beauty, Bailing above the heads of 
the crowd, and then vanishing away.— Our 
Monthly for May. 
-- 
Always consult discretion — it is more 
discreet to be silent, than to speak when it 
is not accompanied by sense and reason. 
Epictetus.^ ___ 
IIe that bus no bridle on his tongue has 
no grace iu his heart. 
