MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
tile hmtthr yesterday? Please don’t be so blunt. 
You shock my nerves terribly.” 
“ Let me see,” said the doctor. “ Yesterday, 
according to your own admission, you were fug¬ 
ged out with a fashionable party and a late sup¬ 
per. That, of course, cannot be the ease to-day.*' 
“ I know 1 should not have attempted it in my 
woak state, doetor. I know Just wlmt you will 
think of it," sighed the fashionable woman from 
her downy bed. “ But then you men never will 
understand what society demands of us women. 
Dear telle (dear Estelle was the invalid’s 
daughter) had tiulte set her heart on going to 
Mrs. Dunk's reception. Of course t could not 
allow the dear child to go unattended, and bless 
yolir heart, Dr, Itessman, the girl's father would 
not accompany her to a party it she fell dead in 
consequence, oh, Lord, such a time as 1 did 
have about it, trying to induce Mr. Waters to es¬ 
cort her. I really believe Unit scene laid more 
to do with my suffering to-day tiian the party 
had. Dear me, such a set man as Mr. Waters is! 
I told him- says 1, “ William, tlds may result In 
my death 1" Hays lie “ When a woman gets to 
be forty years old. arid don't, know enough to 
take care of her own health and the health of 
her children, it is time she died and thou, doc¬ 
tor, he lit Iris cigar and puffed out of the house. 
1 tell you tills because I want you toknowwhnt 
has 80 unnerved me, and that you may not. lay It 
all to the party. Kstelle is quite ill, too, doctor, 
and when you have written out my proscription 
I wish yon would walk Into the next room and 
see her." 
Dr. John knew that something must, tie ad¬ 
ministered or his profession would be irretrieva¬ 
bly ruined, so with a quiet smile playing around 
his large mouth (Dr. John's mouth was really 
very large, und truth compels us to state that .he 
lmd an under-Jaw to match, though the rowset 
unexecptlonably white and even teeth, and the 
silken chin-covering, glossy and soft as a wo¬ 
man's hair, entirely redeemed the lower part of 
ills face from ugliness) the physician wrote the 
few necessary Latin words, among which aqua 
seemed really the most conspicuous, and then 
passed into the other room. The doctor knew 
what awaited him. This little game laid been 
tried more than once before. 
“flood morning, Miss Estelle,” said Dr. John, 
approaching the sofa where the languid beauty 
reclined. “ Your mother tells me you are ill." 
Miss Estelle, with almost, an impatient, gest ure-, 
brushed back the floating hair from her temples 
-carelesslyand really uninteiitlomilly, it would 
seem, baring by the motion one of the most 
beautiful arms Unit sculptor ever waved about 
and replied: 
" Your manner sec i ns to say, Miss Estelle, you 
are always ill. Why don’t you behave your¬ 
self?" “ Oli, how happy 1 should he, Dr. John, 
if you would once in your life be kind to mo. I 
do really think something is the matter with my 
heurt. What If I should die?" 
No picture of Watteau's could ever have been 
more Witching, more charmingly colored, than 
the little form before him. Every accessory of 
toilet bod been brought to bear upon t lie citadel 
Of his heart and to a handsome woman no dress 
i» so becoming as the mipBprc of her boudoir, 
with its lace and fantastic embroidery, slippered 
feet, and graceful posture. Then the vases filled 
with flowers, the mirrors, and Jewels, and per¬ 
fumes, and enticing lolling chairs. iTeigho! 
many a strong man lias bowed to sneli a shrine 
made a fool of himself for life when lathe 
glare and glitter of Ilia drawing room no such 
nonsense would have been thought of. 
Dr. John acknowledged the beauty Of l ids pic¬ 
ture. It was dainty, piquant, dangerous. It had 
been dished up for hltn on several previous oc¬ 
casions, but never so much to Ins mind as now. 
The beauty’s manner was earnest and almost 
supplicating. What man could fail to bo appre¬ 
ciative under such circumstances? Remember, 
too, that Dr. John was longing to bo loved—had 
that, morning almost prayed that heaven would 
enud him a lit t ie- bundle of comfort In the shape 
of a good wife, and it will not be strange that, 
notwithstanding the efforts previously made to 
entrap him, he should think only of the present 
loveliness. 
" What are you reading, Miss Estelle?" asked 
Dr. John, after a moment of appreciative scru¬ 
tiny. “Wilson’s Essays, eh?” and the doctor's 
face showfcd all the surprise and pleasure felt 
by its owner. “ And upon my word, if here isn’t 
Emerson. That is healthy food, rather heavy, 
though, I should think, for a tuck girl!" 
Mis > Estelli! drew a long breath ! For the first, 
time In the twelve months of trial had she re¬ 
ceived one single word of compliment or com¬ 
mendation from the nnin whom her mother had 
determined sho should marry. 
“ And, as true as I live, another book under 
the pillow. Really, T have some curiosity to 
know the title of that volume also," continued 
the doctor almost caressingly. 
“Oh, it. is nothing," replied the would-be in¬ 
valid, languidly, “but a stupid cookery book 
that 1 got from the library. Mother depends 
upon me, you see, for our deserts, and f cun 
toil you that sometimes my ingenuity is sorely 
tested." 
One little hand tucked the volume further un¬ 
der the pillow, *.vhilc the other, unconsciously, 
of course, dropped upon the doctor's. With the 
white, jeweled lingers lying on his, t he fair daz¬ 
zling face upturned, the words which would 
have doomed him to misery all the days of ins 
life were almost spoken. 
How wonder fully and providentially little 
things sometimes appear to save from desola¬ 
tion and death! The hand with which sho had 
striven to (tide the partially concealed volume 
had strangely enough, lifted the frill of the pil¬ 
low and disclosed both title and author— one of 
the most mischievous and recklessly written 
books ever translated Into the English language. 
For a moment the doctor sat silent with hor¬ 
ror and astonishment. Not so much that the 
woman before him bad developed a taste for 
such literature, but that she could so unblush- 
iugly lie to him. 
"I do not. think" said he, at last, “that you 
need any medicine* Ho yon have my permission 
to study the cook-book under your pillow as 
diligently as you may feel disposed. It Is pleas¬ 
ant to know that fashionable young ladies are 
possessed of such domestic and literary tastes. 
Good morning. Miss Waters." 
Dr. John passed out of that abode of luxury 
sick at heart . 
“ I came very near losing myself in that. t rap. 
What confounded fools men are?" 
The thought, was rather humiliating, und Dr. 
John was unable to shake It off during the day; 
and when he turned Ills horse’s head homeward 
It was with a feeling of disgust and loneliness 
never before experienced. 
“l'retty much all alike, I’m afraid,” he con¬ 
tinued softly to himself. 
Just then a little llgurc in the middle of the 
street attracted his attention. A child, to all 
appearance not a day over live years, with up¬ 
lifted arms stood, heedless of danger, looking 
straight in his face. Quicker than I can tell, I »r. 
■Tulin had Jumped from his carriage, seized the 
little creature and placed her oil the seat, beside 
him, 
“ You were in great danger, my dear," said 
the doctor, looking down into the singularly 
sweet and intelligent young face, “ What made 
you stand in the middle of the crowded street?" 
"Arc you a doctor?" was the only reply 
vouchsafed. 
“ By profession, yes, little miss, and by name 
John IleKsimm. Have you any commands for 
his highness?" 
“ If you are ft doctor, I want you to go home 
with me,and If you are not, please tell me where 
I can And one. My sister Kate is sick awful 
sick and she talks and sings all the time; and I 
haven't got any money neither has she; but 
she will die if somebody don’t come." 
"I lima doctor, and will go borne with you, 
little darling,” said our friend, involuntarily 
drawing the sobbing child toward him. “Don't 
cry; 1 can help her if anybody can." 
Before t bey arrived at the residence of thcslek 
girl, Dr. John bad discovered, by skillful ques¬ 
tioning, that the child's name was Florence Brit¬ 
ton the sister's Kate Britton; that Kate wrote 
stories, and made reports, and sometimes was 
out late at. night taking notes and preparing 
articles lor tin? press, that she had not boon well 
during the winter, and for the lust three weeks 
hud been unable to at tend to her literary duties, 
and was now suffering from brain fever. The 
room which the doctor entered was plainly and 
neatly furnished, and bore unmistakable marks 
of retlnenient and womanly taste. 
“ Kale," said Die little girl, climbing into the 
bed where her sister lay moaning with pain 
“sister Kate 1 have brought a doctor to see you. 
I found him in the street, und lie says he can 
make yon well. Look at him, Katie lie Is very 
kind." 
“Cuddle right down beside trie, Flory darling. 
There, that's a. good little girl. Go toeloop, don't 
mind sister Kate she'd onlygot aheadache. Buy 
your prayers, Flory say your prayers," mur¬ 
mured the girl, even In delirium, thoughtful of 
her precious charge. 
Here was a ease to rouse Hr. John's energies 
a ease which appealed to his sympathy and re¬ 
spect —a case, so far as he was able to Judge, of 
utter loneliness and destitution. Ho, like the 
good man he was, he set, himself to work in good 
earnest . A good nurse was procured, necessary 
articles wore brought into the house, and over 
all he watched as if t he sufferer had been his 
own sister. The fourth day the Invalid awoke 
to consciousness, and looked at Dr. John straight 
In the face. 
“ When- am I ?" said sho, attempting to rise. 
“At home," he replied. “Please be very 
quiet." 
“ Where is Flora ?” 
“ Asleep by your side. Don't ask any more 
questions." 
“Who are you?" she continued, apparently 
oblivious to the command. 
“John Hcssnmn at your service, und at pres¬ 
ent. your self-constituted physician, who will be 
obeyed! Now drink this beef-tea—take Flory’s 
little band In you re and go straight to sleep." 
With a sigh of relief, a smile, n momentary at¬ 
tempt to keep her eyes open a little longer, and 
the Invalid was sleeping as quietly as au Infant. 
Four weeks from that day. Miss Kate Britton 
rode out In the doctor's carriage, almost as well 
as ever. - 
l)r. John looked unutterable things, as he 
Jumped Into his gig and took his seat beside her. 
Very like the day a month ago when he had 
something particular to say to himself—only 
now lie evidently had a communication to make 
to another. 
“ It will he safe for me to resume my writing 
to-morrow; will it not doctor?” inquired Kate, 
the first to break the silence. “ I feel better and 
stronger to-day than 1 have for a year.” 
“ No, little girl," replied the doctor. “It will 
uot be safe for you to resume your writing in 
six mouths J” 
“ Oh, doctor, yon mi; only joking now ; 1 know 
you are," said Kate nqtlng the look of amuse¬ 
ment in his expressive eyes. 
“ No, Kate, indeed I ant not joking. You shall 
never go back to that drudgery again, if I can 
help it." 
The hot blood mounted clear to Kate’s tem¬ 
ples. “ Dr. Hess man," she continued, assuming 
a business-like manner, “ but for you I should 
have been in my grave!" 
“in all probability,” broke hi her companion 
with more truth than modesty. 
“Well,” she continued, “you have saved my 
life. kept, my darling 111 tie sister from starvation 
—cared for us both as though we bad been your 
own kindred! But how can I ever-?" 
“There, child, stop right where you are. Nev¬ 
er, If you have any regard for my feelings, al¬ 
low that word to slip from your lips. I want to 
bike you and Flory to my home, and make your 
happiness my care. In short, Kate, I want a 
wife and a sister; will you be the first? Perhaps 
you don’t love me exactly but T know J can 
make y ou love me!" 
“ But. I do love you 1” said Miss Kate under 
her breath. 
“All right, then ! Will you go?" 
She went. 
I)r. John scarcely ever bilks to himself now. 
- **-*•♦■ -- 
“SHOOST SO LONG AS IT VAS.” 
A Chicago correspondent sends the follow¬ 
ing: At a recent trial before Justice Dougherty 
it was thought Important by counsel to deter* 
mine the length of time certain "” quarters of 
beef, " hogs mull sheep" remained in an ex¬ 
press wagon In front of plaintiff's store before 
they weiv taken away try defendant. The wit¬ 
ness urnlrr examination waa a German, whose 
knowledge of the English language was very 
limited ; but he testified In a very plain, str ight- 
forwanl way to having afterward carried iLout. 
and put It into the aforesaid wagon. 
Then the following ensued: 
Cinnitsrl —“ State to tho jury how fonpit was af¬ 
ter you took the meat from tho store and put It 
Into the wagon before it was taken away." 
TTflwvw—“ Now i shoost canddoll dat. 1 dinks 
'bout dwelvo feet. I not say nearer as dat." 
tkmnwl “ You don’t understand me. JTow 
Umy teas it from the time the meat left the 
store, and was put into the wagon, before It was 
taken away by defendant?" 
Wit new- “ Now I know not what you ask dat 
for. Dor vagon he vas buck up mil. der sldo- 
vftlk, and dat.'s xliooxt ho loop nx it nix. You tell 
me how long der sldovalk vas. Den feet ? 
Dwelvo feet ? Den J dells you how long it vas." 
Counsel “1 don't want, to 11mlout bow long 
tbe sidewalk was, but I want to know ” (speak¬ 
ing very slowly) "how /eng this meat was 
in the wagon before it was—taken away?" 
Witness “Oh! (bit! Well, now, I not sold any 
meat so. I all time weigh him ; never measured 
meat, not yet. But I dinks 'bout dree feet." 
(Here the spectators and bis honor and t he Jury 
smiled audibly.) “ I know not, shentlemens, 
how is dis. I dell you all I can so good as I 
know." 
Counsel -“ Look here. 1 want to know how 
limy II wax before the meat was taken away af¬ 
ter it was put Into the wagon ? ” 
tritarss (looking very knowingly at counsel) 
—" Now you t ry and gel me in a scrape. Dot 
menI van Hhoimt ho loiiy /» der rayon ox he non in 
tier shop. Hat’s all I told you. Dat meat vas 
dead meat. He don't got much longer in den 
dousan’ year, not mooch." 
Counsel -“That will <lo." 
■ *»♦♦- 
A SOFT-TONED BELL. 
Rev. Azki, Backus, I>. !>., waa a graduate of 
Yale, and became President of Hamilton Col¬ 
lege. It was in the good old days when they 
had prayers and recital ions before breakfast, 
so that early rising was In order. The chapel 
bell was moderate In size and feeble in utter¬ 
ance, and it became u standing excuse for 
"sleepingover;" “ I didn't hoar the hell!" At 
last one morning the President htraself was lato 
at morning prayers, and as he opened the Bible 
to commence tho service, ho delighted tho hoys 
by indorsing their own threadbare excuse: 
“Tho fact Is, young gentlemen, I didn't hoar 
tho bell. And no wonder, for H scarcely makes 
more uolsc than would the shaking of a fur cap 
with a sheep's tail for a dapper." 
-- 
“THE WRONG SHMELL.” 
A moo officer of the Hons of Temperance pre¬ 
senting himself with the smell of grog be bad 
been drinking, at the door of u " Division ” for 
adiulsalou, was waited upon by au I mb seotiuel, 
to whom bo gave the pass-word, whon the fol¬ 
lowing passed: 
“Sir," said he, “ and yc ure Mister O’Wrigbt, 
the Graud Worthy Pillriinch of the State of 
Kbalntucky, I do be after belavin." 
“ Yes," wild Jim, “you are perfectly right my 
friend, but why do you ask the question?” 
“To toll ye the tliruth, t lion, sir, und shame the 
deevil,” said I'at, “ye do be having the right 
pass word for a Son of Temperance, entirely; 
but by the Holy Virgin and the blessed Saint 
l’atherick ye've got tho wrong shmell 1" 
- - — - - 
NO REPENTANCE IN THE GRAVE, 
A Scottish clergyman, happening to go into 
the churchyard while the boudle was employed 
neck deep in digging a grave, thus accosted 
him:—"Well, Saunders, that's a work you're 
employed in well calculated to make an old 
man like you thoughtful, t wonder you don't 
repent, of your evil ways." The old worthy, 
resting on the head nt his spade, and taking a 
pinch of snuff, replied, “ I thought, sir, ye ken'd 
that there was nae repentancp in the grave," 
Sabbath Heading. 
NOT PARTED. 
They arc not parted, though their feet 
Have wandered far In different ways, 
And though they never more may meet 
On Winter eves or Summer days. 
It matters not though realms divide. 
Though boundless seas between them roll; 
For, still defying wind and tide, 
Heart yearns to heart, and soul to soul. 
They are not parted only those 
Are parted whom no lore unites : 
Their absence breaks notour repofin 
Who have no share In our delights. 
They may be by our Bide, and still 
As far from us as pole front pole, 
Who lack the sympathetic thrill 
Of heart tit heart, aud soul to soul. 
DRIFTING AWAY. 
With proud, exultant step wo may tread to 
the very verge of the future in the Journey of 
life; but wo can go no further; there it. becomes 
lost to us in the realities of the present; wo are 
left to look forward to a new future, while be¬ 
hind u.s lies the past, from which we are rapidly 
drifting. Often our hearts grow weary, our 
eyc-llds wet. with tears, as wo pause to look back 
at. the. receding shore, uml through the dim dis¬ 
tance seem to catch glimpses of tho forms we 
loved in other days early iriotids, whose hands 
we were wont to clasp in fond, familiar greet¬ 
ing, but w hom now we meet no more us in the 
olden time, for on the rest less sea of change our 
barks have drifted far apart. Far more vividly 
than all come to us visions of the old homestead 
from whose portals wc went forth with brave 
hearts, to try the realities of the world which 
lay beyond the precincts of our own quJet homo. 
Half impatiently we hud looked forward to tho 
time when, no longer bound by the restraints of 
home, wc should take our place upon the stage 
of active life; but often the path has proved a 
thorny one, our foot have grown weary, and with 
yearning hearts wc have longed for the quiet 
Joys from which wo have forever drifted. 
No more do we gather an unbroken circle be¬ 
neath the shelter of tho old homo tree; loved 
ones, grown weary with life's burdens, and 
borne on tin* river of Heath, have drifted away 
to the unknown shore. It is sometimes sad to 
feel that we are receding from all that Our 
hearts hold dear. From our childhood years 
with their innocent Joys from the sacred ties 
of home and early association but more sad, 
more bitter than all, comes to u« the knowledge 
that on the current of worldly pleasura wo are 
floating from the love of our Heavenly Father; 
that with thoughtless feet we are treading each 
day nearer the grave, unmindful of what may 
lie beyond its dark borders. 
There ure moments when our better natures 
are awakened within us when we t urn heart¬ 
sick and weary from the vanities of the world, 
und pause to contemplate whither the stream of 
life la carrying us, Then it is that wo feel tho 
need of a stronger arm than earth Oftti give to 
loan upon; and could we but throw off the 
shackles of sin, and with renewed energy aud 
earnest purpose press forward In the path of 
duty aiming to fulfill the mission of which Our 
Haviour has left an example in Bis Holy Word 
our lives would lie purer, our Influence more 
ennobling, and wo far more happy; that when 
our eyes grow dim with age, and wen wait our 
summons home, there may come to us no regret 
for the joys from which we have drifted away— 
but rather golden gleams of the home to which 
wo are hastening. s. e. w. 
Maple Hill, Cazenovla, N. Y. 
-- 
THOUGHT-SUGGESTING PARAGRAPHS. 
That which 1 b distinct from man is unknown 
und unknowable. 
The natural world can give Joy. It Is folly to 
underestimate Its capabilities In this dreetton. 
The great defect of that joy which Is not “in 
tho Lord " Is that it is so transitory. It has real¬ 
ly some resemblance to a dream. 
A man may be so engrossed by the natural 
world us to live as if there were uo spiritual 
world. Such a man beoomes a gross materialist. 
We are now In this world. Our business is 
with this world. Wc have functions and dirges 
here. All true religion m ust help us to discharge 
those. Whatever dees not is worthless. 
Much of our life is frittered away with cart¬ 
ing cares and anxieties. They coma from too 
closo a look at things which are temporal. We 
arc so near them. Tills nearness must be cor¬ 
rected by splrltual-mindcdness. 
When you have been diligent in business all 
day, neglecting nothing, hurrying nothing, act¬ 
ing as an agent for the Lord, leaving all your 
books and transactions to His Inspection and 
protection; when you have had intelligent, 
faithful, trustful carefulness all day, how free 
from fretting care you ought to bo at night! 
The care of earnest thoughtfulness with in¬ 
tent, to do right is not degrading, nor weaken¬ 
ing. No man should wish to bo rid of it. It is 
tho care that distracts, that pull6 one's mind 
many ways, that disturbs and distresses and per¬ 
plexes, which a wise man would desire to avoid, 
so that ho may have all his powers to devote to 
caring for those things which arc of real impor¬ 
tance aip| the caring for which will do Bomo 
good. 
