34 
MOOBE’S BUBAL NEW-YORKEB. 
-JULY 43 
birthday present, but do you take it uud 
welcome.” 
Hhc extended her dimpled hands, and 
something like a shower of falling stars 
tinkled to the boy’s feet. lie caught it up 
in a maze—a nocklaoeof emeralds, lustrous, 
gleaming t hings set in tawny Indian gold. 
“No, no!" he cried, running tip to where 
she stood ; “ T can't take this, take it back." 
But. Pannie shook her curly head. 
“You shall take it,” she commanded im¬ 
periously. “I’ve lots o’ jewelry and fine 
things—run home now and buy your sister 
something nice to eat.” 
.She closed the door with a bang, and Ross 
stood irresolute in t lie stormy gloom. Should 
he ring the bell and return t he jewels to 
I’ansie’s father, or should he do as she had 
bid him? IJe thought of his mother and 
poor hungry little Flora watching wistfully | 
for his return. He could not go back and j 
see them starve. With a sudden feeling of 
desperat ion, he thrust, the glittering neck¬ 
lace in his bosom, and dashed down the 
snowy street. 
The gas light blazed brilliantly in a fash¬ 
ionable jewelry establishment, and its bland 
proprietor looked down inquiringly on lit¬ 
tle Ross, as he approached the glittering 
counter. 
“ Would you like to buy this, sir?" 
There was a tremor in t he boy’s voice as 
he. asked tin question, and the hand that 
held up the emerald necklace shook visibly. 
The lapidary took the gems, examined them 
Closely for a moment , and then shot a sharp 
glance at the child. 
“See here," ho said, presently, his voice 
stern and commanding, “1 want to know 
how you came by this?” 
The. boy's clear eyes fell, he blushed and 
stammered, evidently embarrassed. The 
jeweller put aside the emeralds, and taking 
thelad'sarm, led him intoa small anto-room. 
“You arc a thief, sir," he said. "That 
necklace belongs t o Mr. Fontenay:—lie 
bought it of me not one month ago. You 
stole it. You are a thief!" 
The little fellow straightened himself, and 
his brown eyes blazed. 
“ I am not a thief," he retort ed. “ i didn’t 
steal that necklace- a kind little girl gave 
it to me, and I know it was wrong to take 
it, but—but—my mother and sister are 
starving.” 
The jeweller hesitated. 
“ You don’t look like a thief,” he said, 
"but 1 will send for Mr. Fontenay, that will 
settle the matter at once." 
lie despatched a messenger accordingly, 
and l?oss sat down in one corner, and sobbed 
bitterly, as he heard the driving winds, and 
thought of his mother and poor lit tie Flora. 
Tn half an hour Mr. Fontenay came bring¬ 
ing his daughter, little Pansic, with him. 
The lit tle creature darted in like a humming¬ 
bird, her cheeks ablaze, her eyes Hashing 
lightning. 
" He didn’t steal my emeralds!” she cried. 
“I gave ’em to him to sell ’em and buy 
bread for bis lit tle sister.” 
Ross sprang to his feet, struggling hard to 
keep back his tears. lie put out his little 
brown hand, which Pansie instantly clasp¬ 
ed in both her chubby palms. 
“ I am not a thief, sir," he said at last ad¬ 
dressing Mr. Fontenay;" I never stole any¬ 
thing in my life. 1 know it was wrong to 
take the necklace, but—hut—sir, my little 
sister is sick and she is starving." 
The merchant drew his hand across his 
eyes. 
You’re a manly little fellow," he said, pat¬ 
ting the lad’s head, “and I do not in the 
least blame you, but we ll take back Pan¬ 
ic's emeralds, and she shall give you some¬ 
thing more available. Here Pansie, give 
this to your little friend.” 
He put a gold piece into Fansie's hands, 
which she tendered to Ross, with the in¬ 
junction that he should run straight home, 
and buy lots of goodies for his sister: a 
command he was not slow to obey. 
“ I think we'll not loso sight of the little 
fellow," continued Mr. Fontenay, as Ross 
disappeared in the stormy darkness, "shall 
we, pet? Let's see. what can we do to help 
him? He’s n promising young lad, and an 
honest one I'm sure. Mr. Lenox, you’re in 
need of an errand boy, why not try him? I 
wish you would. " 
The jeweller consented, to Pansie's great 
delight, and on the following day Ross was 
duly established as errand boy in the fash¬ 
ionable establishment. 
Fifteen years after, one blustering March 
morning, a young man sat behind the coun¬ 
ter of a thriving jewelry establishment in 
one of the Northern cit ies. Ho was a hand¬ 
some man, a scholar and a traveler, a man 
of taste, intellect and moqoy, for ho Wf\s;|u- 
k 
nior partner in the firm, which was a pros¬ 
perous one. But despite all this good for¬ 
tune, Ross Dunbar was not happy. His 
mother and little Flora had gone to their 
long home, and he was utterly alone, wit h¬ 
out kith or kin in t he wide world. 
Sitt ing alone that morning, with the roar 
of the March winds in his ears, his thoughts 
were running back to the days of his boy¬ 
hood, to bis mother’s humble home. How 
vivid the past seemed, and how dear and 
sacred, despite its privations and sorrows. 
His eyes grew dim and his heart swelled. 
All were gone over the wide waters of time 
and change. 
A tender smile softened his sad faceashe 
recalled t hat stormy night, when he sat. sob¬ 
bing on Hie steps of Mr. Foutenay's man¬ 
sion and little Panslo taking pity on him, 
dropped her string of emeralds. Darling 
little Pansie, the remembrance of her sweet 
face as lie saw it through the snow wreaths 
that night, haunted him constantly. In all 
the fifteen years, never for one hour had 
he forgot ten her. But she was gone; lost 
to him forever. 
His revery was broken by the entrance of 
a customer, a lady closely cloaked and veil¬ 
ed. She approached the counter, with a 
jewel-case in her hand. 
“ Would you buy these sir," she asked 
simply, in a clear, sweet voice that stirred 
t he young man's heart as no other woman’s 
voice had power to do. 
He took the casket and unclosed it, and 
spread out. its contents. A watch, elegant 
and costly, a diamond ring, one or two ru¬ 
bies, and an emerald necklace. Ross Dun- 
liar barely suppressed a cry of surprise as 
his eyes fell upon it. lie turned it over 
with eager, trembling lingers, and t here on 
the clasp was the name that had lived In 
his heart for so many long years; “Little 
Pansie.” 
“ You wish to Bell them all?” he asked, 
striving to steady his voice, and the wild 
throbbing of his heart. 
The lady hesitated an instant, then she 
put out a slender hand and drew the emer¬ 
alds towards her. 
" I dislike to part with this, she said ; “ it 
was my father’s gift—and—and—but no 
matter, take them all; I must have the 
money.” 
In her eagerness she had thrown aside her 
veil, revealing a lily face lit by lustrous 
sapphire eyes. Ross Dunbar stood silent/a 
moment, every nerve in his manly frame 
thrilling with supreme delight. He had 
found her at last , the one idol of his life. 
"They are very fine gems,” he aaidaftera 
moment, “and I am willing to give you u fair 
price—suppose we say one thousand dollars, 
will that do ?” 
The girl Hashed a dazzling glance of glad 
surprise from beneat h her heavy veil. 
“So much as that," she said tremulously. 
“You are very kind, sir. () you cannot 
know how much this money will help me!” 
The young man made a polite reply, and 
proceeded to put aside the jewels and to 
draw a check for the money. The March 
winds were still blustering without, and t he 
girl shivered and drew her Wraps closer us 
she started out, 
“ Wont you let me run down to the bank 
for you?” said the jewllcr, catching up his 
hat, “You can play shop-lady the while; 
it won’t be but a minute or two.” 
“ Rut 1 am troublingyou so,” she faltered. 
“Not a bit; just take this warm seat, 
please, you’ll not bn likely to have any cus¬ 
tomers.” And seating her beside his desk, 
he took the check and hurried out. 
Pansic Fontenaj T threw back her veil, and 
leaned her head upon her hand, a puzzled 
reflective look upon her sweet, sad face. 
“ Where have 1 seen his face?” she asked 
herself over and over again. “ It is so 
familiar; who in the world can it be?” llis 
return broke in upon her meditations, and 
receiving her money, she hurried away to 
her humble lodgings. 
The following afternoon was even more 
blustering and stormy; the wind roared and 
the sleet beat and tinkled against the win¬ 
dows of t he little room in which Pansie and 
her father sat . Severe misfortune and re¬ 
verses had reduced them to poverty, and 
the old man being an invalid, all the care fell 
upon Pansie’s slender shoulders. She sat 
busy with her sewing, while her father read 
aloud from a new book, which she had 
bought for him with some of the money re¬ 
ceived for her jewels. Her sweet face was 
wan and sad, and her future stretched be¬ 
fore her sad and hopeless and gloomy. 
There was a ring at the door, and a servant 
brought up a package for Miss Fontenay. 
An exquisite bunch of pansies, fragrant and 
golden hearted, done up in tissue paper, uud 
ati ached to them a card, bearing the simp o 
word:—“Ross Dunbar has not forgotten Lit¬ 
tle Pansic.” 
Pansie sat amazed for a moment, and then 
a rich bloom drifted up to her white cheeks. 
“O father, she cried, "I knew him—I 
knew him! O we have found Ross at last!" 
An instant later Ross was in the room, 
clasping her fluttering hands in his, and look¬ 
ing into her blue eyes with a glance that- 
brought the rosy blushes to her face. 
And a few weeks later, when the bluster¬ 
ing winds were over, and t he blue birds sang 
in the hedges, and the golden hearted pan¬ 
sies bloomed on t he garden borders, little 
Pansie became Ross Dunbar’s bride, and 
for her bridal gift ho gave her back her 
string of emeralds. 
-♦♦♦- 
WOMEN SMUGGLERS. 
Women are frequently smugglers of fine 
laces, but rarely of jewels. On the Italy, 
however, some valuable jewels were recent¬ 
ly seized, having been found quilted in an 
underskirt. A quiet-looking frau, recently 
landed from Bremen, had a doublo-qnilted 
petticoat filled with Shetland shawls, caps, 
and stockings. Another on the Westphalia 
had a quantity of the finest silk bindings, 
two valuable watches, two silk dress pat¬ 
terns. two dozen silver spoons, a dozen sil¬ 
ver forks and eight pieces of silk galloon 
quilted into a skirt of serge,. A companion 
on the same steamer had seventy-three 
bundles of se wing silk and twenty-uiuo pairs 
of kid gloves secreted on her person—scarce¬ 
ly concealed, however, as the foolish fraulelu 
had tied strong cords about her hips, and 
the smuggled articles were suspended in 
such a way that she was scarcely able to 
reach t he dock. 
The muff is a very ordinary cover for 
smuggled laces. An Englishwoman, recent¬ 
ly landed from one of the Inman steamers, 
had the cotton removed from her muff, and 
its place filled with valuable laces. The 
muff was strapped to her person, where it 
stood for cinhonpuint. 
Tn one petticoat of this lady were found 
gloves in quantity; in the facings of her 
dress, cigars; and in the voluminous gath¬ 
ers of a second petticoat were Meerschaum 
pipes in sections. 
A French woman, extravagantly dressed, 
and moving about, suspiciously, was invited 
into the room of the Inspectress recently. 
Her petticoat proved to be nine yards of 
superior black velvet, one selvedge being 
gat hered into a waist-band, which also held 
a dress pattern of Ponson silk. The facing 
of the velvet petticoat, which was put on 
with (lie nicest, care, was well padded with 
Chantilly laces, cunningly run together; 
and the ruffle on t he bottom of this impe¬ 
rial under-garment consisted of live rows) 
of rich Chantilly flouncing, caught toget her^ 
quite likely, In the hope that it would be 
taken for one piece. An immense seizure 
of English open-faced watches has recently 
been made upon the person of a well-appear¬ 
ing American woman, who had them neatly 
incased in the tucks of a heavy flannel pet¬ 
ticoat. 
Sometimes the German women seek to 
evade the tariff dues in the most awkward 
manner; as witness the stupidity of hang¬ 
ing nine watch chains about one’s neck, 
with a valuable watch at the end of each 
chain. Frau Stuuipf said slio had been 
told that, watches were worn by the passen¬ 
gers, and the officers did not take them. 
A desperate-looking woman, coming on 
one of the English steamers lately, on being 
examined exhibited an amusing spectacle, 
wit h a silver cake-basket lashed to each hip, 
and two huge dress patterns festooned as 
“ tilling,” there and thereabouts. On being 
detected, this woman, in terrible rage, drew 
a knife on the Inspectress. 
Some of the smuggling expedients are, of 
course, extremely amusing. A spiritueUc 
little Frenchwoman had on her husband’s 
red flannel drawers, and these were tied in 
puff’s, here and there. 
On being “ unpacked,” there came forth 
a Bohemian glass toilet set, two dozen salt¬ 
cellars, three dozen silver spoons, three 
dozen silver forks, several little articles of 
bijouterie in bronze and crystal, and some 
fine Swiss wood-carvings; all of which wore 
put up in the softest tissue-paper and paper- 
shavings, that they might not strike against 
each other. When the little body was un¬ 
loaded, no one laughed more heartily than 
she.— Scribner's for .July. 
-- 
Saxe says that Vermont is famous for four 
staples, “ Men, women, maple sugar and 
horses. The first are strong, the last are 
fleet, the second and third are exceedingly 
sweet,aud ftro uncommonly h?wl to beat .' 1 
A GERMAN TRUST SONG. 
BV I.AMBBBTCS—1625. 
Jcht hr Go»l lends me, t would po; 
1 would not ask to chouse tny way; 
Content, with whnl he will bestow. 
Assured be will not let me stray. 
So as he leads, rny path 1 make. 
And step by step I plndly take, 
A child In him ooniidlnp. 
Just as God leads I am content; 
I rest me calmly In Ills hands: 
That which he has decreed anil sent— 
'That which Ills will for me commands. 
1 would that he should all rulflll, 
That 1 should do Ills praclous will, 
In living or in dying 
Just as God leads, t all resign ; 
1 trust me to ray l at her’s will! 
When reason’s rays deceptive shine, 
His counsel would I yet fulfill; 
That which Ids love ordained as rlpht, 
Before he brought me to the light. 
My all to him resinning. 
.Just as God leads me, 1 abide ; 
In faith, tn hope, in siitfeilnp true ; 
His strength Is ever nt my side— 
Gan auplit ray hold on him undo7 
I hold me firm in patience, knowing 
That God my life Is still bestowing 
The best in kindness sending. 
Just as God leads, I onward go. 
Oft amid thorns and briars seen ; 
God does not yet his Riddance show— 
But In the end tt shnll be seen 
How, by a loving Father’s will. 
Faithful and true, he leads me still. 
ONLY ONE YEAR, DAY, HOUR. 
“ Ont.v one year," said a soldier, “and I 
shall return to civil life, to the bosom of my 
family to enjoy with them the blessings of 
peace, and the bounties and honors which 
my country bestows upon her heroes." 
But ere the year had closed the soldier filled 
an unknown grave in Carolina, “in the 
midst of the uncircumcised, theta that are 
slain with the sword," and will there re¬ 
main until the trumpet, louder than the 
<1 in of battle, shall r« animate the dead. Far 
away, in his once happy home, was heard 
the wall of the widow and the orphan cry, 
and the year beginning in joyous expecta¬ 
tion ended in woe. 
" Only one day! ” said a young lady, who, 
at the close of a school term at an academy, 
was making preparation lotisil her homo 
during the vacation. “<Inly one day, and 1 
shall be with m.v parents, brothers and sis¬ 
ters, at our dear home.” And she went on 
making prvparat Ions and chat l ing in a man¬ 
ner that little betokened the calamity that 
should close those lips in death before the 
consummation of her hope should he re¬ 
alized; yet o it was. Although similar 
instances of sudden death frequently occur, 
t hey seem insufficient to impress upon the 
minds of the young and gay the solemn 
truth that " In the midst of life we are in 
death." 
“Only one hour!" said the passengers 
crowded in the spacious and palnce-like 
cabin of the ill-fated Cambria; “Only one 
hour, and w<* shall roach t he harbor, where 
kind greetings await us, and the scenes of 
ocean will bo exchanged for those of the 
pleasant land. “ Light hearts discussed the 
nll-ahsnrbing topic. The man of business 
planning to increase his gains; the tourist 
noting t In* incidents of the way, and specu¬ 
lating upon his future travels, and final 
return home; the husband returning to the 
bosom of his family and planning a sur¬ 
prise; the wife, with ln r first -born, followed 
by the proven and anxious solicitude of 
her husband in her home in distant America, 
on a journey to visit, her anxiously waiting 
und expectant parents; and the new-made 
bride and groom, on their first tour of 
pleasure, alike put from them the thought 
of death—ghastly death, so near. 
The ship sped, on, but suddenly she struck 
upon a reef, and but a moment sufficed to 
reveal to the terror-stricken passengers 
their awful situation. Crowded upon the 
deck, in the nnukv night, their now help¬ 
less mid rapidly sinking vessel, tossed on 
the dark billows lashed into fury by the 
sweeping gale; children clinging to their 
(error-strickcu parents for protection ; 
friend bidding friend a last adieu; the 
worldling pleading for mercy with God, 
whom all his life he had slighted; and the 
Christian, only calm in this awful hour, 
went down together, and the moaning sea 
sang t he requiem of the dead. 
Even in the absence of sudden calamity, 
“ Ma-.i that, is born of woman is of few days, 
and full of trouble. lie coineth forth like 
a flower, and is cut down; he fleet h also as 
a shadow, and continuctb not." So “Mail 
lieth down and riaetli not, till the heavens 
be no more, they shall not awake, nor be 
raised out of their sleep Jou, 14 ; 1 . 2 , 1 ”. 
How careful, then, ought we to be, in lay¬ 
ing plans for the future, ever heeding the 
scripture injunction, “ Boast not thyself of 
to-morrow, for thou kuowcsl not what a 
day may bring forth.” 
Uur li ves should ever be characterized by 
a preparation for the judgment scat of 
Oft HIST, at which we must all stand to re¬ 
ceive for the deeds done in the body. Go 
to now, ye that say, To-day or to-morrow 
we will go into such a city, and continue 
there a year, and buy and sell and get, gain. 
Whereas ye know not what shall be on the 
morrow. * ♦ For that ye ought. t.o say, 
If the Loan will, we shall live, and do Jthia 
or unit, ApoupHua Smith, 
