STREET SCENES IN NEW YORK. 
Wabits 
<£p 
BY UNCLE CHARLEB 
The Old Book-Worm. 
I like to lounge about the. “ OKI book' 
il IIIIiIK^old books -Ojlh 
BITE BIGGEK, BILLY! 
AFTEB TEN YEAES, 
a friend I met the other day 
Said to me. " Do you know 
The tale of Crossing-sweeper Bill 
And his companion Joe?" 
wits arrested by me oiu uooK-woriu you see 
in the picture—hooka under his arm, in his 
hand, and manuscript in his pocket. The 
hot August sun heat down upon his green 
umbrella as he leaned against the sidewalk 
stand on which the hooks were arranged. 
The throng of people of all sorts rushed past 
him down Nassau street, but he did not heed 
them, nor they him, except to note Ids ab¬ 
straction. The old gentleman may have 
owned half these hooks once. For he had 
an air of faded gentility; and the greedy 
and yet intelligent manner with which ho 
scanned the contents of those lie took up, 
showed that if he did once own them his 
philosophy enabled him to make a virtue ot 
necessity. 
“ I often see yon here, sir,” l said; “ are 
you studying up any particular subject ?” 
He looked at me a moment, in the dircctest 
way with his keen, black eyes, as If he in¬ 
tended to rend mo through, as he did his 
books, and said, still keeping his sharp eyes 
ci>ME out beyond this house ana garden puie, 
r here 1 have lived and walked these hopele 
years; 
Ticse lonely lonesome years, whose only tale 
jjtj u ^oen Of hope deferr’d, and whose sick tears. 
■ Slow-dropping on ray heart, have deadened it, 
TUI even i— 
A nd go >wn 
I do not; hut please tell it me, 
And I will gladly hear.” 
And while he told it, In his eyes 
I marked the rising tear. 
agers, a little time since; “ for themselves?” 
“It maybe,” was the answer. “We re¬ 
quire them to take a portion of the clothing 
they make up,—that is, two entire suits of 
winter garments ; they could not keep decent 
with less. We furnish materials ourselves, 
and of the donations given us, and they work 
them up, we allowing them twelve cents per 
hour for their labor. Usually their plan is 
to let half this amount go to the purchase of 
the garment they wish, and the other half 
to buy groceries, which wc let them have 
cheap.” 
Who ever heard of a grocery or store¬ 
room appended to a chapel! But there it 
was, indeed, anticipating the carnal cravings 
of our common nature, that, from Genesis to 
Revelation, could find no promise to feed on 
so suggestive of the good Lord's charity, as 
the timely piece of bread. 
There were weights and scales, and there 
were ladies with silken gowns, presiding over 
them, or taking bundles of sugar, tea, coffee, 
flour, back to the pews where sat the women 
of their respective “classes,” awaiting the 
reward of their three hours’ work. 
Some six or eight of the women occupy 
two pews facing eucli other, and some lady 
presides over the class, superintending the 
work, reading to Ihe Workers, or else talking 
to them, encouraging them by sympathetic 
inquiries or remarks to talk of their homes, 
their families, and general condition, so as 
to he the better enabled to find out what 
they really need. 
More than one of these women lias de¬ 
clared that the only tea and sugar that has 
entered her house for months has been 
brought from these Wednesday afternoon 
sewing lessons. The meetings have led to 
other things outside of benefit to them, also, 
because heads of families now fiud that the 
time and place is favorable to the obtaining 
of help of almost every grade — from flue 
sewers dowu to the drudge who would go 
dreaded pain baa lost liis sting, 
familial', us’d all day and night, 
V Be-tdc me close to alt., 
aL I lav his leaden hand on everything 
hat once was young and quick and warmly bright 
C*mo out. away; here 1 am ever bound, 
wn l only half-alive; close dinging weeds 
Sfiile and wrap my brain; my heart is wound 
Su a shroud of ten years' patience; here it feeds 
I On mem’ry's bitter rind; it cannot wake 
Tb understand your coming, and ihe life 
*K r ou say is yet before us i here each tree. 
I Euoi. loaf and flower-flake. 
Sp. nks to me ot the past, and, like a knife, 
ffi'lic mint, sweet smell of lilac pierces me ! 
I need not say that Bill and Joe 
Were miserably poor— 
That many hardships they were forced 
To suffer aud endure. 
Joe’s father, for some wicked deed, 
Was sent across the sea, 
And hi* heart-broken mother died 
In wretched poverty. 
Bill’s mother died when he was born 
His father ran away 
And met his death, so it was said. 
In somo wild drunlteu fray. 
So neither knew a father’s care, 
A mother’s tender smile, 
And neither had a sister’s love 
Their sorrows to beguile. 
They could not claim a single friend 
Beneath the wide-spread sky. 
But to eaoli other they were bound 
By poverty’s strong tie. 
Though poor, they wore too proud to beg, 
Too upright, far, to steal, 
And gladly would they sweep and clean 
To gain un honest meal. 
Ic mnmei's mine with lender lilacs twin'd, 
Ivnd went in rain of rose leaves falling fast 
f, .11 the sight nu, sobbing autumn wind ; 
[rimy killed mu with the thought or summers past 
in winter l could better bear my life ; 
look tierce pleasure In the Icy snow, 
The sullen sky. and dead, hard-frozen shore, 
, And windy moon iiDd strife. 
Li summer, with Its thrill and murm’rous flow, 
Its languor of delight—I shrank before! 
stores on Seek man, Nassau and Fulton 
streets. There are a great many curious 
things found there. And these old books 
But, sad to say, the only food 
They often hud to eut. 
Was scraps of bread and broken fruit 
They picked up f rom the street. 
Cotne-I remember a deep wood—come quick! 
■Which for this ninny a year I have not seen, 
I; ’tis not poisoned with my fancy sick— 
■Here through this gate—Oh ! the Cool, the green. 
I Soothes me to quiet,as a mother’s hand 
Hushes her restless child ; this qwiv'i log light, 
■And sigh of beechen leaves, this mossy Lhyme. 
f The distant purple land 
Crowning the long low hills, is like the sight 
■Of half-forgotten faces; for that time 
1 lien we walked here together, ere you went, 
rim was the last; then l was young and fair, 
nd you not grave us now, and gray and bent; 
A weary woman, sorrow-tuueh’d, with hair 
And face and form time-changed— such Tve 
grown — 
j, no ! you cannot want me as you say : 
■ You say so out of pity; let me die 
[ As X have liv'd—alone ! 
flow can I share your life? a shadow gray, 
■To harass and to haunt you—no—not I! 
yet 1 don’t know who would be the teacher, 
ailT I’m sure 1 couldn't do-” 
And before tlio old man could finish Ids 
sentence there was u stampede in the street, 
us there often is in New York, and he was 
swept from his position by the rush of the 
crowd, and I saw him no more that day. 
PROM RURAL GIRLS AND BOYS, 
On have had liberty, mid change, and choice. 
All a man's part, although beyond the sea, 
f lule I have had to live with my own voice 
r rui face and fancies, and have had to see 
My life to uui limn fading ere Us spring. 
Iilthful you call me? Faithful? Ob, love, no! 
I Here let ino tell you, kneeling at your feet— 
[ Nay, let me weeping cling! 
'have been f'litlili-s’, hard; and even so. 
Of such black doubt I glean the harvest meet 
Hiingitia Portfolio. 
Tins is to be made of pasteboard covered 
with gilt or white satin paper. It. can he 
made of any size you wish. It may he left 
plain or a picture pasted on in front. Lace 
the sides together with a cord or ribbon. 
Hang with a cord aud tassel. This is orna¬ 
mental and useful for holding small articles. 
’lie day you went youth died. Was If then stran 
That faith died too. and tender hope mid trust, 
did all that Keeps us young ? I said no change 
Can henceforth oorae for tin;. I basely thrust 
Your promise and your solemn oath aside. 
’or ten long years l have dishonor'd you. 
Dishonoring your word, with dark despair 
And bitter doubting pride ! 
on have been faithful— (tioi> reward you!) true, 
But 1?—my love ! my love ! how could I dure ! 
I on, poor woman, hush ! 1 will not hear 
Another worduguim-t yourself. I know 
i’our loveless life of constant cure and fear 
Spent serving him who laid our love-liopes low; 
Hush, Usual, for ue both l best ran speak, 
list; from your lowly kneeling. By my side, 
' lose to ruy heart, sweet wife, it'or wife you’ll be 
Before another weak,) 
dust tie your place henceforth ! Long-chosen liplde! 
Among all women, you alone for me! 
■ tnow you bettor than you know yourself; 
You cannot but be happy with my love, 
tj strong, so patient. 1, who trust myself, 
Will make you trust me, and great (JOD above 
Will give his blessing, and will make our life 
it ceaseless amtg of Joy, and 1 shall make 
A golden radiance of your eventide; 
So you will trust me, wife! 
I*our face, each line is sacred for love’s sake, 
I would not wish these ten years’s marks bo hide ! 
UVepiug for me has made those eyes so satfl; 
flunking of me has traced that careworn brow ! 
Now, love, I mean to teach you to be glad. 
Nowguy and restful, and light-hearted now, 
So 'vc will spend our peaceful weddtsd life. 
Aii I lu that bettor life above oelteve 
That we shall have our spring-time’s green delight! 
Give me your hand, iny wife ; 
I.ook ut the future through my ej^s, and weave 
Your sad thoughts with my hopes arid visions 
brio" „! 
tell a great many strange,quaint and romantic 
stories. 1 often sit down beside them aud 
look over my glasses at nothing, thinking of 
the men and women who once owned these 
books. Some of them are very costly works 
Poor boys! they often mnde their bed 
In stair or archway dark, 
And sometimes through the summer nights 
Slept in St. James' Park. 
The tfueeu of 1’rnssln. 
Queen Augusta is known by her most 
intimate associates to he a most ambitious 
woman. She is not wanting in any element 
of true womanhood. Her devotion as a wife 
and mother is appreciated by her family, 
while her deeds of kindness and charity 
render her deservedly beloved and popular. 
But with these more sterling home qualities 
she combines a large knowledge of men and 
politics, and takes a deep iuterest in all that 
relates to literature and art. Her Majesty is 
a daughter of the famous Duke who was 
the munificent friend and patron of Goethe, 
and in her youth she came much in contact 
with the illustrious author; and her char¬ 
acter, in no slight degree, was influenced, if 
not modeled, by him. With these antece¬ 
dents and qualifications, she could hardly 
fail to take a deep interest in the great events 
of which her court has been for so many 
years the center. 
In taste, cultivation, and intellect, she is 
vastly superior to her husband, who is sim¬ 
ply a large, bluff, honest, hearty, self-willed, 
and somewhat dull gentleman." The Queen 
has too much good sense to ever obtrude in 
state aftiiirs. But there can be no doubt that 
her quiet, unseen influence has frequently 
turned the scale in favor of Bismarck’s large¬ 
brained policy, when the obstinate, timid 
King was inclined to hold back. 
It wn» a bleak amt bitter morn 
Just at the clone Of March, 
And they had .slept the night before 
Within a market arch. 
NEEDLES AND THREAD. 
As very hungry, very cold. 
They wandered down the street, 
Joe picked un apple from the ground. 
And thought, “ Why, here’s a treat 1” 
It’s been a little kicked about, 
Bui.It’s a good one still,” 
And, turning to his mate, he said, 
“ What have you picked up. Bill?’ 
I haven't found a single scrap,” 
Bill mournfully did suy; 
Then, as you are the youngest. Bill. 
Here—take und bite away.’’ 
The poor boy bit a small piece off; 
“ Ha, that won't do!' cried Joe; 
Bite bigger, Billy—bigger yet! 
You’re welcome—Hint you know! 1 
A noble lesson this should teach, 
Dear children, unto you— 
Do unto others as you would 
That they to you should do. 
Give in the mime of Him who gave 
His only Son to die. 
That we might pass from sin und death 
To realms beyond the sky. 
HANGING PORTFOLIO. 
—a single volume costing, originally, hun¬ 
dreds of dollars. The men of wealth who 
first owned them have sold them. Why? 
Master Abraham asks if the Rural girls can 
tell him why they always giggle and te-he when 
a young man talks frankly and sensibly to them. 
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