MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
ON THE HIGHT8. 
BY CAROLINE A. nOWARI). 
[The following poem was contributed by the lute 
Miss Howard to Harper’s Magazine in 1805, and Is 
regarded by many of her friends the best poem she 
ever wrote.—E ds. Item a l New-Yorker.] 
1 stand alone upon the bights of years, 
As stood on Sinai's peak of old 
The prophet, while as If unrolled 
l,ike pictured scroll the vale appears. 
Far down the rugged slopes by worn feet trod 
Is dimly seen, ’midst shine and shade. 
The glimmer of that fairy glade 
Which bask* forever In the smile of God. 
And nearer, yet still far, ’twlxt II and me 
Ides, golden still. th»t fair domain 
Whence to iny listening heart again 
Is borne youth’s unforgotten melody. 
The twilight deepens, and the morning land 
With silvery streams, the fervent noon, 
Memory’s music, all must soon 
Fade in the gathering night so near at hand. 
Yet, as stood Moses In that awful gloom 
When shone Tliy word as living Are, 
While all his rapt soul did aspire 
To Thee, above the darkness of the tomb, 
So I—though gazing backward tearfully 
Beholding life’s sweet visions fade. 
While swiftly falls the gathering shade 
Ol’ Age—fear not, since face to face with Thee 
My God, who seomest on these bights of years 
Nearer than in life's sunny vales ; 
Whose strength my weakness never falls 
To lift from out the dust of mortal fears. 
Alone ! ’Tis well; for thus this heart of mine 
Shall, like the prophet's table, lie 
Hared to the light; that only Thy 
Dear name be graven there, the love divine. 
(Dur ,StorB-feller. 
RUTH HENNESSEY AT FIFTY. 
BY MARY A. E. WAGER. 
wreck the happiness and faith of every human 
bouI, If uncovered, because human souls do not 
rise to t he higlit of unselfish love. 
In Ruth Hennessey's life at fifty occurred 
two episodes such as wq/non are likely to re¬ 
member. The tlrat had its origin at Cape May, 
in the Summer of ISfiO. Col. Nelson of Arkan¬ 
sas, and his wife, were stopping at I he same 
hotel with Mrs. Hennessey. Kuth had been 
introduced by a mutual acquaintance, and in a 
few days the two ladles became much attached 
to each other, riding, walking and bathing to¬ 
gether. One day Mrs. Nelson was too ill to 
leave her room, and, as Ruth was sitting with 
her, the hour for bathing arrived, and Col. Nel¬ 
son offered his escort, which, of course, was 
accepted; and at evening offered himself again 
for the usual promenade. Mrs. Nelson urged 
“ Worse,” she answered. “A human heart at 
I my feet." 
The letter was from Col. Nelson— just the 
kind of a letter one might have expected such a 
1 man to write to such a woman, and yet the very 
* sort of a letter which such a woman would 
did her heart loosen itself from the dreadful 
fear. 
The Winter succeeding the war she again 
spent In Washington. As the warm Spring days 
were rising over the capitol, and the Avenue 
was bright with lazy proroenaders, she was 
bo overwhelmed with surprise upon receiving, startled to meet one day»lier old admirer, Judge 
It ran thus: 
"Hear Kuth Hennessey: 
Gore. Ho seemed older by ten years than when 
she had last seen him, on that to bo remembered 
"Hear Kuth Hennessey:— II has been ono she had last seen him. onthr.t to nciem«.uioereu 
year since 1 held your hand in mine, and con- day when he hud called her ” Kuth." 
teased-because T had no power to withhold It— „ ii v nntssky." and he put out his hand, 
that those three Imperishable days had taught in' nnv.sslv , , wh 
ine the meaning of life and answered my asp i- “•! have a message to you from tin d ul. 
that those three Imperishable days had taught 
me the meaning of life and answered my aspi¬ 
rations of eternity. I know t he. dishonor and 
weakness that the world attaches to a confes¬ 
sion of this kind, coming from a married man. 
My wife to me is nil today t hat she was at first. 
—a loving, sweet and loyal soul- a woman than 
whom see harmed t would sooner aacrilice my 
life. Up to the time I met you I dreamed of 
nothing better, and, therefore, did tint desire It. 
. , „ T) „ IICJl I11I114 IJL'IW'J • iillljl, 1.11*1 III " II 1. * llltl IIWFUIPH'' 
her acceptance, ?ui<], nccuwtoinod ns Iujjh lint, you taught mo what I believed Death could 
had been all her life to attention from gentle- only teach - ‘ tilings deeper than all love;’ and 
There are some women who forever spoil 
men for all commonplace women. They give 
them such glimpses, such radiant visions of 
what womanhood maybe, ami to a certain de¬ 
gree is, that the ordinary remlnlno expressions 
seem the weariest of platitudes. Such a woman 
was Ruth Hennessey. To describe her would 
cause her to appear like some ono else and 
make you think you hud known a woman like 
her wlion you had not; for there is but one 
Ruth Hennessey to a generation. Hhc was as 
strong as a woman could be, and thoroughly 
feminine. She was as tender, loving and sweet 
as one could lie without being weak. She was 
of a nature so deep and broad that she felt with 
an Intensity that was a constant matter of sur¬ 
prise to shallow souls. She possessed all the 
elegancies of manner that, wore her dower of 
birthright from a long lino of American aristo¬ 
crats. She was tall in figure, symmetrical in 
outline us a statue, with a Grecian east, of fea¬ 
tures and a mouth the like of which no artist 
ever reproduced, and the memory of which cre¬ 
ated a perpetual smile in I he soul. In addition 
to these personal attractions she was endowed 
with tiie power of expressing fully what she 
t hought and felt.. To listen to her conversat ion 
was to experience the sense of exaltation. Had 
she taken to the stage or to authorship, it would 
have been difficult to define a limit to her suc¬ 
cess. She never knew the meaning of rivalry, 
standing so far above its reach, and yet so full 
of human sympathy as to draw t he whole social 
world about tier in the dearest of fellowship. 
This Is what site was at fifty yearn of age. Had 
she been a woman around whom less of interest 
conten d, or one whom nature had less gener¬ 
ously endowed, what use* to write about her? 
To know her was to appreciate, as never before, 
to what t ranscendent degree a woman may be 
an honor and glory to her Creator. 
At. t wenty she was she wife of a man of great 
wealth, the mistress of a luxurious home, the 
idol of her husband, whom she—endured. At 
forty she was a widow, with four sons, and a 
broken fortune, from the wreck of which she 
saved for herself an annual income sufficient for 
her support. At. fifty her sons were educated, 
settled In business, and she herself with the 
freedom of the bettor part of her life before her. 
During her married life she had never failed 
in any duty of a wife and mother. What it had 
coat her none but herself knew. Never by word 
or look had her husband dreamed that ho failed 
to satisfy her life. And never by word or look, 
or that still more subtle communicant, intu- ] 
ltion, had he dreamed that, another man hud 
shown her the radiant face of love, thrilled her 
being to its depths with Its music, wild and 
sweet, and made her feel its t.orrilde but en¬ 
trancing power. In this experience hor life 
blossomed to its fullest and richest beauty and 
fragrance, but the perfume perished In her 
heart., softening and sweetening it. for all time. 
Sho was a princess, blameless in nil truth, and 
she thanked God for the love, what it, had 
brought her and what it had loft with her. At 
fifty that episode of her life was n memory, and 
for us who read, her life begins. 
To most women the romance of life ends at 
forty. But whenever it ceases, then has ceased 
real living. This Is no more so to women than 
perhaps to men. Tho privacy of the human 
heart k hellers enough from year to year to ship- 
men, she regarded the Colonel’s courtesy us 
nothing more than merited gallantry. For three 
days the bathing and <ho promenading con¬ 
tinued. At the end of the fourth, her allotted 
time at. Cape May expired, and sho was stop¬ 
ping Into her carriage to go to the depot. Col. 
Nelson handed her in, holding her hand a mo¬ 
ment and saying, in a low but distinct and 
quietly Impassioned tone:—“These three days 
have been the days of my life. Gon bless you !” 
Ruth laid tho remark away with the compli¬ 
ments of hor existence and thought nothing 
more of it. The man had been to bora most 
grateful companion. Ho was refined, gentle, 
and with mental and spiritual endowments pre¬ 
dominating over tho physical, in refreshing 
contrast to tho knowledge of aian nature she 
had gained in her married life. 
The following Winter she spent in Washing¬ 
ton. Ono of iter friends was a lady of the Su¬ 
preme Court, to use Washington parlance, who 
was then famous for the number of eminent 
men who were always l<> be found at her morn¬ 
ing receptions. On one of these occasions Itimi 
was Introduced to a long, lank, sallow, sleepy . 
eyed Bostonian, called .lodge Gore. He ac¬ 
knowledged the Introduction by a careless bow, 
hardly taking the trouble to look at her. Kuth 
was a woman of too fine presence, <>t too dis¬ 
tinguished manner, of too positive magnetic 
influence ever to enter a room without com¬ 
manding universal attention. Moreover, as Mrs. 
Hennessey, she was widely known, and, hav¬ 
ing breathed adulation all her life, she felt | 
piqued at this man’s Indifference. Above the ' 
mantel hung » very fine portrait of Napoleon 
I. one her friend had purchased in Paris and 
which was so finely executed as to command 
much critical admiration. Ruth found herself 
Standing before it, and in her enthusiastic 
abandon, lmd delivered herself of her own ad¬ 
miration most earnestly and eloquently before 
she hardly realized what she was doing. Before 
idle was done the Judge's sleepy eyes opened 
wide and wider, fairly ablaze with tight. He 
drew up ids loosely-jointed body, shook out his 
legs, and strode up by the side of Mrs. Hennes¬ 
sey. lie looked at the painting, while Kuth 
went on with a eulogy upon tlie character of 
NAPOLBOtnint.il the Judge turned his gaze upon 
t he eloquent improvisatloe. 
“J like that, madam; Bonaparte is my 
ideal," he said. 
“But not mine in all things," she responded. 
“But, Josephine displayed a love superhuman 
—divine.” 
“ But could you not be capable of a love like 
that?" he asked. 
“ No; and 1 never saw a woman that was. 
The blot on Napoleon’s character lies in the 
weakness of that hour when he asked a sacrifice 
for which neither life nor death could atone. 
He had lived long enough to learn that it is 
Gon and not man who disposes." 
Their talk was too earnest and vital for a 
Washington drawing-room. Nothing so much 
shocks the sense of fashionable society as aln- 
exnresslons. Mrs. Hennessey soon with- 
to sit for one hour again by your side J would 
give ten years of my life- Time, instead of 
modifying my need of you, enhances it . I do 
not ask your love. I tin not offer you mine. 
There are tilings honor forbids; there also are 
needs of I he human soul that rise above and be¬ 
yond the human code of right and wrong needs 
God implanted, which some divinity only can 
discover, and which a divine soul can only sat¬ 
isfy. As you value t lie richest blessing Heaven 
grants a human being, I beg you to let me see 
you, ir but for one hour. Philip Nelson." 
At such times the first answer of tho soul 
comes from Gon; the second from human 
weak ness. 
“ No, it must not bo," she said; and then the 
tempter pleaded. But, with all the kindness 
and tenderness of her nature, she had a keen 
sense of possibilities that, never taking alarm at 
what startles most people, clanged sharp mid 
clear id a given bight and it was in that, region 
where Colonel Nei-son'h letter made its pres¬ 
ence felt. 
But wlmt a sympathy placed her in accord 
wit h t his man ! It was so like the one memory 
of her own life, when Heaven opened before her 
unveiled eyes and the music of its spheres rav¬ 
ished her soul; when tdiu was not herself,but 
an exalted being, tilled with the consecrat ion of 
love. But, seeing the. radiancy of its glory, 
breathing the perfume of Its sweetness, hearing 
the entrancing t ones of a voice dearer t him that 
of a child's, clasping for one brief moment a [ 
band that elect rified every nerve with a bliss too i 
sad for joy, but precious far beyond it; all Mils, 
and yet sho had entered not In. The vision per- 
meatk-d her soul, and made her life, which had 
been so hard to bear, a gift so blessed that noth¬ 
in# could henceforth be a burden. Perhaps mi 
hour of her life given to Philip Nelson would 
make the downward way higher, and perchance, 
better and nobler. But who could tell ? There 
u.re so many tangles in life that only the fingers 
of t ime can free, and t his seemed one of them. 
Day after day passed on, and the letter lay un¬ 
answered, the question it involved no nearer 
solution. 
Just before tho bombardment of Fort Sumter, 
a Southerner spent a week in Now York, Inquir¬ 
ing for Mrs. Hennessey. She was at the Fifth 
Avenue H otel. He asked for her t here, and she 
had just left for some town up the Hudson 
River. Ho inquired at the depot where her 
trunk was cheeked, but nobody remembered 
her destination. He tarried, hoping for hor 
return, and meantime, the fierceness of the 
South and tho loyalty of the North struck 
fire, and the country was ablaze. Ho returned 
at once to Arkansas, and joined the Confederate 
army. 
At the bat tle of Cold Harbor, the North and 
the South mot In hand-to-hand conflict, Tho 
personal struggle of the war reached on that 
ground t he acme of sectional bitterness. From 
ono hillock to another leaned forward the in¬ 
tense face of the Southerner, with pointed dag¬ 
ger, t<> encount er the same opposite Incarnated 
in a son of the North. And as the two crossed 
swords in life, they embraced and pardoned 
euch other In death. 
After the battle, a N ort.hern officer dismounted 
can I see you?" 
She looked In his eyes, nml found in them the 
same old light, with less of the fire. He cer¬ 
tainly was in his right mind, whatever his words 
might Imply. . A , „ , 
“ Now," sho replied, “ this is my hotel, and 
they went at once to her parlor. 
“At tho battle of Cold Harbor, a dying rebel 
officer attracted my attention, and stopping to 
give him aid, he Intrusted mo with this ring for 
you. It looks like a wedding ring. Ho said ids 
name was Philip Nelson, and that as his death 
wound came, came also your presence, and that 
henceforth and forever nothing could separate 
him from you, and then ho died. 
Ruth received the message In silence, but 
grew pale as death. Then slipping the ring on 
her third finger, she turned it round end round, 
speechless, and otherwise motionless. At length, 
recovering herself, she talked about tile vsar, 
am) resumed much of her old-time earnestness. 
When the Colonel arose to go, she invited him 
to call again, adding “Our lives are too much 
In iho past to desire more than friendship, each 
for the other. But I know of no reason why wo 
< no not have that In Its fulness.’’ Ho bowed his 
tlinnks, and kissing her hand, departed. 
Ab the warm days succeeded each other, the 
I desire grew In Ruth’s heart to visit the battle- 
field of Cold Harbor, and who should be her 
companion but 1 lie man who had brought her 
Pin eip Nelson's dying message! The arrange¬ 
ment B were very simple. They were to go direct 
to Richmond and ride from there In a carriage. 
Already tho marks of war had lost promi¬ 
nence. Nature, with her loving hands, was fast 
wiping out the blot of the past. They walked 
through I he trees until they had come upon the 
highest place in the ground. The Colonel turn¬ 
ed over t lie dead leaves and I .ranches, and pick¬ 
ed out of the soil a bullet. With hIs knife ho 
drew another from the body of a tree. J hey 
sat down. 
“ It was near here, as nearly as I can remem¬ 
ber, that I found Nelson," ho said quietly, 
pointing to a rifle pit at their feet. Its surface 
was one bloom of forget-me-nots. They had 
sprung up all over the battle field, and told 
their own beaut ifulstory. Leaving his compan¬ 
ion a moment, ho stooped and gat lim ed a ho- 
quet. Regaining hte place, ho looked Into her 
face, called her “ Kuth’’ again, and offered her 
the forget-me-nots. Tears came into her eyes 
as she look them from hi* hand. 
“ You may call me Ruth," she said. 
SPARKS AND SPLINTERS. 
i-ere expressions. Mrs. Hennessey soon with- w *’- 
drew, while Judge Gore begged to bo allowed Aftcrthebattlo.aNorthernofficerdiamouiited 
to see her to hor carriage and to call upon her i by a wounded soldier in gray, with stars on ills 
at, her hotel. He waa a well-known man, a j epaulettes, lie was already dying, and the Yun- 
at her hotel. He waa a weii-unown man, a 
strong, eccentric, independent character, full 
of fire and swift strength—a human volcano, 
Inactive and quiet and then, when si irred to the 
depths, enjoying t ho felicity of mi eruption. 
For the ensuing month he became Mrs. Hen¬ 
nessey's escort everywhere sho went. From 
once calling, he called twice a day. He took 
her almost daily to the Somite, pointing out the 
members and dilating upon their character¬ 
istic,s. Upon the last of these occasions, in 
making observations across the Chamber, ho 
said; 
“ KUTn, use my field-glass,” handing them at 
the same moment. 
“ * Kuth.’ Can it be he called me that? ’’ she 
said, to herself, feeling that her ears must have 
deceived her. So she accepted tho use of the 
glass without comment. Soon lie called her 
Ruth again. 
“ Bid you call me Ruth? " she asked. 
“ Yes. Do you object ? ” 
“Most decidedly ! " she replied, with vigor. 
“ May I never call you ‘ Kuth ? ’ ” he pleaded. 
“Novor!" she replied. He bade her “good 
morning" as Mrs. Hennessey when he bad 
driven her home. 
The next Summer Ruth did not go to Cape 
May, but spent the early Spring and Summer in 
a quiet town among the hills of New Jersey, 
that the inhabitants call mountains. One day 
she received a letter, read it, leaned back in ber 
chair and let foil her hands. 
“ Has n comet fallen on your head ? ” asked a 
friend who waa near her. 
kee could do nothing for him. But something 
Influenced him to tarry; at least, to make an 
effort to make him more comfortable. Both 
men were in the full prime of life, and some¬ 
thing more, perhaps, in a land where men are 
called old at sixty. 
“ You are from tho North?" the dying soldier 
asked. 
“ YeB, my friend. Can I carry any one a mes¬ 
sage for you?" and he reached forth his hand to 
that of t he other, who grasped it as if hoping to 
wrench from it a moment more of life. 
“ Perhaps," he answered feebly, after a pause, 
“ i f you know her. I i cr name Is Ruth Hennes¬ 
sey— mine is Fhj lip Nelson. Give her this;" 
and he slipped a band of gold from his fingers. 
“ Toll her that with my death wound came the 
unspeakable preciousness of her presence, and 
that from henceforth nothing can separate us. 
May Gon bless you to find her!” Ho never 
spoke again. 
At the same hour, in her Northern home, with 
two sons in (lie Federal army, and every sensi¬ 
bility alive to the issues of the war, Ruth Hen¬ 
nessey stood leaning by a gate, In an attitude 
of expectancy that.in these days became almost 
a habit with wives and mothers. So great was 
the anxiety, that one felt that even the wind 
might be bearing messages from the fields of 
battle. AH at once, she ut tered a sharp cry and 
ran into the bouse. “Some one has fallen!" 
she exclaimed. "Hespoke my name and van¬ 
ished ! I felt It like an actual presence!” and 
not until tidings came of the safety of her boys 
Domestic mails—Married men. 
Whaling grounds—School houses. 
A chin that's never shaved—An urchin. 
“Weight for the wagon," as the fat lady sang. 
When the rain falls, does it ever rise again? 
Yes, in dew time. 
The last excuse for crinoline is, that the 
“weaker vessels " need much hooping. 
Why 1b a goose like an elephant’s trunk ? Be¬ 
cause It grows down. 
Before you commit suicide take a cold bath. 
What people term despair is very often dirt. 
“If all the world were blind,” said an Irish, 
clergyman, “what a melancholy sight it would 
be." 
A lady asked a gentleman how old lie was. 
He replied:—“What you do in everything. 
What was his age?-XL. 
A CHINESE thief having stolen a missionary’s 
watch, brought It back to him the next day to 
lie shown how to wind it up. 
A Cincinnati editor asks, “Are we fire-proof?” 
Probably he Is; but we should greatly dislike 
to see him put a lighted match to that nose. 
A victim of sea-sickness describes t he sensa¬ 
tion thus:—“The first hour I was afraid {should 
die; and the second I was afraid I shouldn’t.” 
There is a chap out West with his hair sored 
that when he goes out before daylight ho is 
taken for sunrise, and the cocks begin to crow. 
A Virginia paper describes a. fence which is 
made of such crooked mils, that every time a 
pig crawls through, lie comes out on the same 
side* 
Upon the marriage of Miss Wheat of Virginia 
an editor hoped that her path might be flowery, 
and that she might never be thrashed by her 
husband. 
Chicago lias a petrified baby. It was petrified 
with astonishment at seeing its father and 
mother pass one day without quarreling or 
threatening a divorce. 
A YOUNG writer wishes to know of us “ Which 
| magazine will give me a high position the quick¬ 
est?" We reply, a powder magazine, if you 
contribute a fiery article. 
TBB Venetian gondoliers, upon their arrival 
In this country, take kindly to the wheelbarrow 
as a vehicular nucleus around which to cluster 
the romance and dreams of their earlier life. 
