JUNE 8 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
A YEAR AGO. 
BY MARY C. BARTLETT. 
I’M thinking of a night, love,— 
A year 1ms since gone by,— 
When side hy side we stood nnd gazed 
Out on a winter sky. 
The whole earth lay In shadow. 
No star could yet be seen, 
But whore the setting sun had burned 
Lingered a golden sheen. 
Out on that clear, calm light, we gazed. 
Till but as things of naught 
Seemed darkonen earth and starless sky 
And the life with sorrow fraught.— 
In all the universe there seemed. 
That night a year ago, 
But two heart* full of untold lovo 
And a golden sunset glow. 
The win has sot. to-night., love. 
And golden are the skies, 
And between these two bright Riinsets 
A year of suffering lies. 
But forgetting nil to-night, love, 
In the clear calm sunset glow, 
I revel In the memory 
Of that, night one year ago. 
Perchance thou too, to-night, love. 
In this little lapse of rest, 
Art looking out with weary eyes 
Upon the glowing West; 
And thinking of our deep, true love. 
Thou dost rebellious grow. 
That there's left 11 s but the mem’ry 
Of that night a year ago. 
Our way la hard, heloved, 
Rough the n see nr. and steep, 
And round usas wo toil, apart. 
The twilight shadows creep; 
But looking up with eyes of faith, 
A golden light serene 
Is shown w, from the glorious Run 
Of Righteousness, unseen. 
Then npward let ns struggle. 
Regardless of the pain, 
Until at last, together. 
The wondrous bight, wo gain 
Where nevermore a twilight, 
Through all the endless days, 
Can draw the Run of Righteousness 
From our enraptured gaze. 
-♦♦♦-- 
EVERY-DAY LIFE. 
BY LEAD PENCIL, ESQ. 
I met mv friend Rosemary yesterday 
with her hands full of flowers. She had 
caught the sunlight on her cheeks and t he 
sun had loaned her something with which 
to illuminate her eyes. Indeed, she is one 
of those of whom Lkonteh must have 
thought when he said, 
“ Whilst I remember 
Her and her virtues, I cannot forget 
My blemishes In them.” 
“ Fresh from the country, I see?” 
‘‘Yes! And, oh! how lovely it is! I’ve 
rode over the hills, rowed on the lake, ram¬ 
bled in the woods, inhaled the fragrance 
that all Nature is distilling, and yet-” 
“ And yet? ” 
“ Yes; and yet, I do not know why it is, 
but something is wanting —something has 
forever none, out of all this , and which I 
seem unable to recover. I do not, know 
but I enjoy it all as much as ever, but I do 
not get from it what I once did. Can you 
tell why?” 
“ Yes; I think so. It Is evidence of change 
—not in the objocts themselves, but in the 
medium through which you look at them. 
In other words, the process of growth has 
changed you. The gent le breeze that swayed 
the young willow from Its roots upward 
does not now sway and stir the body of the 
mature tree, but contents itself with play¬ 
ing among the foliage with which the old 
willow is crowned. Care and Duty have 
taken the place of Hope. Worship fills the 
heart, and Love sanctities it; but now it is 
born of kuowledge rather than sensuous 
enjoyment. If a sponge is full of water, it 
can take up no more. The hand continues 
to be a hand, though hardened by labor and 
paralytic from ago — though it has lost tho 
supple deftness of youth. And these almost 
unconscious changes that are working in us 
are only revealed to us by such opportuni¬ 
ties for contrast as you have just had. Such 
revelations should not sadden; they should 
teach. They should not paralyze; they 
should strengthen. We should ho glad we 
are not what we have been. Regrets for 
the Past, are only indices that we are wast¬ 
ing tho Present. Anxiety about tho future 
is liko tho boatman at sou, watching the 
shore, wishing he was there, forgetting to 
row and steadily drifting away from it.” 
What Rosemary thought of what I said 
I do not know; she went her way without 
a word. 
Robert came to me in great trouble 
the other day. Lady G. had requested 
him to call upon her. He did call, and 
received an answer to his card, that she 
was tired and could receive uo one, Mean- 
time, Lady G. waited impatiently to see 
Robert. He did not come. What could 
bo the reason ? She had deferred other 
matters, expecting to meet him. A day or 
two after, she. wrote him, upbraiding him for 
neglect, and saying she thought that he 
might have sent an excuse, at least. Here 
Mere two hurt and indignant friends— Rob¬ 
ert, that he should have foregone other en¬ 
gagements and got rebuffed; Lady (i., that 
she was of so little account as to be thought 
unwort hy even an apology from her friend. 
Robert asked me what I thought about it. 
I suggested there might have been two Lady 
G.’s in tho same house. Investigation 
proved that I was correct, though neither 
knew the other. 
r mention this little incident to illustrate 
how circumstances separate lives, alienate 
friends, destroy friendships, beget anxie¬ 
ties, heart burnings, jealousies, resent¬ 
ments, unhappiness, when t here is really no 
reason for such results. Thus moil and 
women lose faith and trust in each other, 
when both are innocent und true. Thus 
feuds generate from no real cause. Thus 
lives are blighted that might, have been ever 
green. Thus Hope is paralyzed when it 
should have been strongest. There is such 
a condition of mind as one that is too sen¬ 
sitive to be just. There are hearts that de¬ 
mand a loyalty which, in its demonstrations, 
is impracticable, ignoring the existence of 
a higher loyalty that trusts implicitly and 
loses faith never. Wo are all of us far too 
willing to believe what will make us miser¬ 
able, and arc not loyal enough to that sweet 
Charity which beareth all things, bcliuvetk 
all things, bopeth all things, oiulureth all 
things, and which never fa ils 1 
-- ♦♦♦ - 
WHAT IT IS TO BE A WIDOW. 
“ I think it must bo a jolly thing to be a 
young widow!” I heard this remark tho 
other day in a group of laughing girls. 1 
think I remember saying such a t hing my¬ 
self In my girlish times. Doyou know, girls, 
what it is to bo a widow? It is to bo ten 
times more open to comment and criticism 
than any demoiselle could possibly be. It is 
to have men gaze as you pass, tlrst. at your 
black dress and then at your widow’s cap, 
until your sensitive nerves quiver under the 
iuffiotion. It is to have one Ill-natured per¬ 
son say, ” T wonder how long she will wail 
before she marries again?” and another an¬ 
swer, “ until she gets a good chance, 1 sup¬ 
pose.” It is now and then to meet tho 
glance of real sympathy, generally from the 
poorest and humblest woman that you meet, 
and feel your eyes till at the token, so rare 
that it is, alas! unlooked for. It is to have 
your dear fashionable friends console you 
after the following fashion“ Oh, well, it, 
is a dreadful loss. Wo knew you’d feel it, 
dear.” And, in the next, breath, “ You will 
bo sure to marry again, and your widow’s 
cap is very becoming t,o you.” 
But, it is more than this to be a widow. It 
is to miss the strong arm you have leaned 
upon, the true faith that you knew could 
never fail you, though all the world might 
forsake you. It is to m iss the dear voice that 
uttered your name with a tenderness that 
none other could give it. It, is to hear no 
more the well-known footsteps that you Hew 
so gladly onoe to meet. To see no more the 
face that to your adoring eyes seemed as 
the angels of God. To feel no more the twin¬ 
ing arms that folded you so lovingly; the 
dear eyes that, looking into your own, said 
plainly, whatever it might seem to others, 
yours was the fairest face earth held for 
him. It is to light with a mighty sorrow as 
a man lights with the waves that overwhelm 
him, and to hold it at arm’s length for awhile 
only to have—in the hours of loneliness and 
weakness—tho torrent roll over you, while 
—poor storm-driven dove- you see no hav¬ 
en.—New York Home Journal, 
- 
Nervous or Sick Headache can gener¬ 
ally be cured, If taken in time, by the use of 
bromide of potassium. When the attack is 
felt to be coming on, take twenty grains of 
the bromide dissolved in water; go to bed 
and sleep two or three hours and you are 
cured. Sometimes if, may bo necessary to 
repeat tho dose, which may be done, in two 
or three hours. The bromide is perfectly 
harmless, unless taken in very largo doses. 
There will be no danger in taking twenty 
grains every two hours, until you have tak¬ 
en three doses. Rut most cases, if taken in 
hand early, will need only one, or at most 
two doses. 
- 
If we are willing to brave danger just as 
much under an indulgent system as under 
constant toil, and by spontaneous courage 
as under force of law, we are gainers in the 
end by not vexing ourselves beforehand 
with sufferings to come,—Pericles, 
fading fq the Jgouitg. 
ROME WASN’T BUILT IN A DAY. 
The boy who does a stroke and stops 
Will ne'er a great man he : 
'Tis the aggregate of single drops 
That makes the sen the sea. 
The mountain was not at Its birth 
A mountain, so to speak ; 
ThO little atoms of sand nnd earth 
Have made Its peak a peak. 
Not all at once the morning streams 
The gold above the gray 1 
’TIh a thousand little yellow gleams 
That make the day the day. 
Not from the snow-drift May awakes, 
In purples, rods und greens; 
Spring's whole bright retinue it takes 
To make her queen of queens. 
Upon tile orchard rain must fall 
^ And soak from branch to root. 
And blossoms bloom und fade withal 
Before the fruit, Is fruit. 
The farmer needs must sow and till, 
And wall the wheuten bread ; 
Then cradle, thresh and go to mill, 
Before the lire:ul is bread. 
Swift heels may get the early shout. 
But spite of all tho din, 
It Is tho patient, holding out 
That makes the winner win. 
Make this your motto, t hen, at sturt, 
'Twill help to smooth tho way; 
And steady up both hand and heart, 
“ Rome wasn't built in a day ! ” 
[Alice Cary. 
- 
LETTERS TO YOUNG RURALISTS. VIII. 
FROM COUSIN JOHNNIE. 
My little cousin, Martha A. W., has giv¬ 
en a very good “grown up ” answer to the 
question, “What is Education ? ”—and 
though I would rather have had her own 
childish idea of it, in her own words, 1 
thunk her for trying to do her best. She is 
mistaken, however, in thinking my educa¬ 
tion is finished. Though I am—well, never 
mind how old, Martha- I am being educa¬ 
ted every day. The mental discipline which 
I underwent at school, and which you are 
now undergoing, was simply a preparation 
for future education, but yet 11 s necemiry 
as plowing and enriching the ground is to 
raising any production of the soil. So do 
not think when you leave school that your 
education is finished either. Look upon.it 
as just begun, and do not let any opportu¬ 
nity for gaining information escape you. 
The more you learn, tin? more you will see 
how much there is yet to learn, and that ed¬ 
ucation, in this life, can never he finished. 
But there, my dear, 1 have given you enough 
“dry ” remarks for you to digest this time. 
There is nothing that I should liko better 
than to ride with you on horseback, but 
ulus, 1 was never ou a horse but once, and 
then one person led him and another held 
rue on! Neither do I spin, Martha; nei¬ 
ther have 1 ever seen any one spin; nei¬ 
ther have I ever seen a spinning wheel! so 
tell me all about it next time. I do not be¬ 
lieve we are too far apurt ever to moot. 
You are at Jerusalem I believo, eight miles 
from Albany, and I am at Matawau, New 
Jersey. Now, as i am very often in the city 
of New York, and you, I dare say, are 
sometimes too, we might some day try and 
meet there. 
I am very sorry to hear Willie A. H. is 
so afflicted; but I trust his prayer will soon 
be answered and his hearing restored. Iu 
the meantime, he must try and be very pa¬ 
tient, remembering that tins trial may be 
sent to him by a loving Father. 
I hope none of my little cousins have been 
tempted hy the warm weather to go in 
swimming yet; and t hut they will not think 
of going before J uue. Two days ago I stood 
by the coffin of a line boy of ffftcen, whom 
I had loved very dearly, and who, while 
swimming on the thirteenth of May, was 
seized M-ith cramps, and drowned. So you 
see my dear ohildreu, 1 have good reason 
for giving you such advice. 
And now, with a wish that I could see 
Effik'h picture of the eight sisters, I must 
bid my little cousins good-by for this time. 
♦ »•»- 
SENSIBLE THOUGHTS ON FARM LIFE. 
BY A WISCONSIN GIRX>. 
A BOY who assists an agent in putting up 
lightning rods, remarked, the other day, 
that he would not work on a farm for fifty 
dollars a month—meaning, i suppose, that 
ho would not work there for any considera¬ 
tion whatever. Now, is farm life so very 
disgraceful, or is it thought to he all drudg¬ 
ery, with no enjoyment, that so many, of 
both sexes, shun it and seek for employ¬ 
ment else M'here? I know from experience 
J that it is a life of labor. Father earned his 
bread by the sweat of his brow, and by hard 
labor he secured a com for table home for his 
family, so that his children have never en¬ 
dured the privations which wore his lot in 
early life; yet ho did not bring us up in 
idleness. My parents believed that girls, 
as well ns boys, were intended to be useful, 
so I was brought up to work—not only help¬ 
ing mother iu tho kitchen with the baking, 
washing, churning, and numerous other 
things which make up daily life on a farm, 
but also milking cmvs, gardening, and in 
busy seasons lending a helping hand in the 
field. 
Every day brings work to be done at our 
house, and my life is a busy one; yet I love 
the country, and the old homestead is tho 
dearest place in the-world to me. ( think I 
find as much real enjoyment, here ou tho 
farm, as do many others who have less and 
easier work to do. There is pleasure in 
rising before the sun these beautiful morn¬ 
ings, even though it is to begin a hard day's 
work. I enjoy watching the plants and 
flowers grow, and wanderbjg through tho 
fields and woods In search of berries, wild 
grapes, plums and nuts, which grow in 
abundance on our farm. Oftentimes when 
returning from the Holds, 1 have paused on 
tho summit of tho hill, just hack of tho 
house, and gazed with unalloyed pleasure 
on tho surrounding scenery; though tired 
and weary, J have felt at such times that it 
is a joy to live in this beautiful world. 
When the evops are stored away and winter 
brings a little leisure, my great delight then 
Is in taking sleigh rides to tho weekly sing¬ 
ing school'. Sometimes I sigh for tho ad¬ 
vantages whioh the town affords, yet 1 could 
hardly relinquish my simple country lifo, 
with its pleasure and toil, for a life of easo 
in the city. OthorR may seek for happiness 
away from the farm, but I am content to 
remain a Wisconsin Farmer’s Daughter. 
SCIre fuller. 
ILLUSTRATED REBUS.-No. 23. 
Answer in two weeks, when we will pub¬ 
lish the names of those sending us correct an¬ 
swers. 
- *** - 
PROBLEM.-No. 8. 
An island In a certain lake Is a frustrum of a 
cone, the top diameter being 500 feet. If from 
the center of said diameter a balloon should 
ascend nnd be held by a rope 1,000 feet in length, 
when tho rope Is tight, und forming an anglo or 
15 degrees with tbe point of elevation, a cannon 
ball let fall from the balloon would strike tho 
water, 50 feet from the Islund, at the end of 10 
seconds; if the upper part of tho Island should 
bo cut away anrl placed about its base so as to 
form a square island, having a uniform eleva¬ 
tion of live feet above the surface of the water, 
what would the area of tho Island thus formed 
be, the average depth of water about tho island 
being 15 feot. Wm, H. Rule. 
Answer in two weeks, with the names of 
those who send correct answers. 
ORNITHOLOGICAL ENIGMA.—No. 1. 
1 am composed of eighteen letters: 
My 7, 2, i) is a largo water fowl. 
My 5,1, 11, 12, 2,14, 8 is a murine bird thutcannot 
My 4, 15, 15, 10, 13, Is, 7,12,17 is an unclean bird, 
mentioned in Lcvitlcuannd Deuteronomy. 
My It}, l), s, 1(J, 7 , J, 3, 14, (1, 3 Is a species of huwk 
or kite. 
My whole is a bird of plumage. J. A. Cox. 
-- 
PUZZLER AN 8W ER8.-May 25. 
Illustrated Rebus No. 21.— Arizona. No 
answers have been received to this rebus. 
Puzzle No. 4. -1, Ants; 2, Tars; 3, Rats; 4, 
Stars. 
Biographical Enigma No. 1. The heavens 
declare tho glory of God, and the firmament 
showetli His handiwork. 
