m 
flOORE’S RURAL ^IW-YORKET! 
FES,IS 
FEBRUARY. 
BY K. B. DAVENPOF.T. 
Once more the murmurous stream of time 
Is rippled by a colder breath j 
Onco more the nameless, saddened rhyme 
Of voiceless muBlc whispers—death! 
Within the clouds that darkly move 
With gathered gloom low down to earth, 
WUd azures point, with naught of love. 
To ail its frozen, bitter dearth. 
O'er lifeless t-.irf-and leafless stalks 
Of blossoms onco so sweet and fair, 
The sadness glooms accustomed walks 
Through frozen meadow* brown and bare. 
Far down into the quiet dell 
Where roving blackbirds used to 6lng, 
And orioles were wont to dwell. 
When first awoke th’ Impatient Spring, 
I slowly go i and In the wood, 
And through the brakes now dry and dead. 
There’s naught but death and solitude; 
And Summer’s beauty oil Is lied. 
Beyond the stream, the daisies grew. 
With tacos turned unto the sky, 
’Mid greenest grass j and sparrows flew 
To greet the morn with mellow cry; 
And bobolinks, In mild delight, 
Thrilled all the »lr with laughing bods 
From morning to the dewy night, 
Whose Summer calmness lingered long. 
And of 11 ley among the gross. 
While stars smiled through the Summer ovo 
But now the north winds madly pass 
O’er black, dead blades oud mildly grieve. 
<0«r Storjr-teller. 
VALENTINE CONSPIRACY. 
A MASQUERADE AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 
We were siiil lingering around the tahle in 
Aunt Eloanor s broekfast-room, discussing our 
quails ami last night’s opera alternately. By 
we, 1 mean Aunt Eleanor, Uncle Roger Leroy, 
theirchildrcn, Mabel and Eugene, and myself. I 
must mention here that I vug the only child of 
Aunt Eloanor’o t win sister. My mother died 
when I was but twelve years of ago, and my 
father, finding the old home assoei,-it Ions pain¬ 
ful to him, went abroad, taking me and placing 
me at a boarding-school in France. I remained 
there until I graduated, then for two years 
traveled with father. Aunt Eleanor had always 
corresponded with my father, and at the Olid of 
two years he yielded to her request and brought 
me back to New' York, promising hor that r,bo 
should have possession of mo for the Winter at 
least. I was warmly welcomed to their homo 
and hearts, and Aunt Eleanor a nd Uncle Roger 
seemed to consider mo as another daughter, and 
no sister could have been dearer to me than 
Mabel. 
We finished our late breakfast at last and wore 
leaving the table, when Aunt Eleanor said, sud¬ 
denly : —“ By-tlio-way, my dears, I had nearly 
forgotten to tell you that while yon were out 
driving yesterday afternoon, the Montelth car¬ 
riage called and some one left Invitations for 
yon. 1 was engaged at tho time, so they had 
nearly escaped my memory* My son, will you 
got them lor the girls ? I believe there is a card 
for you also.” 
Mabel and I had made our debut together this 
Winter, and in the giddy whirl of parties, soi¬ 
rees, receptions, etc., that followed, we had 
been termer! tho rival belles. Already gossiping 
society bad decided upon the gentlemen it de¬ 
clared imd proved to be matches for the “golden 
haired beauties," as somo sentimentally styled 
us; whether they were right or riot we shall see. 
Eugene soon returned to the breakfast-room 
and handed the cards to Mabel and myself. 1 
uttered an exclamation of pleasure as J, opened 
mine—“ Oh, a masquerade! That will be splen¬ 
did ; and on tho llth, too—that iH St. Valentine’s 
Day." 
“ Yes," said Mabel, gleefully, “ and Mrs. Mon- 
toltb’a entertainments arc always delightful 
affairs; she is such u charming hostess.” 
“And what about the host, Petite, Is ho not 
charming also?” I naked, laughingly, as tho 
color mounted to Mabel’s face, for the host re¬ 
ferred to was Mr. Raymond, the gentleman 
society said was my fair cousin's moat favored 
suitor. Mrs. Monteith was a gay widow, and 
Mr. Raymond, her single brother, who always 
played the part of host nt his sister's entertain¬ 
ments. Mabel did not care to answer my ques¬ 
tion, so she went off to her room to talk, girl- 
lash ton, of tho ' mportant question—wlpd to 
wear. 
“I wish we could get up something new," 
said she, after a pause. “ Flower-girls, peasants, 
gypsies, and the like, are worn and threadbare." 
I had been thinking deeply for some time, and 
exclaimed, suddenly:—“Mabel, I've thought of 
something capital, If you will consent. Thecos- 
tume will be somewhat, unique, and we can 
have any amount of fun.” 
“Do tell mo what it Is. I'm all attention," she 
“Nothing to resemble It, perhaps,” I an¬ 
swered; but something to represent Its silver 
gauze, I mean.” 
“But what are they to be alike for?” asked 
Mabel; and I responded : 
“ Don’t interrupt me any more, and I will tell 
you all about it. In addition to the drosses, wo 
must have one long, silver gauze veil, and 1 will 
have that pink silkof mine made Into a domino. 
That silk has lain these three months now, and 
I don’t believe I shall ever have it made up, so 
we might ns well take It for this purpose. Now, 
I propose that one of us- say myself—shall wear 
the veil; you must arrange your hair just like 
mine, wear your ‘moonlight’ dress, and over 
that don the domino,” I saw Mabel was begin¬ 
ning to understand me by the way her eyes 
.-parkled. “ Wo will enter the room separately, 
and take no particular pains to disguise our¬ 
selves. After it becomes pretty generally known 
who wo are, we will ascend to the dressing- 
room, change the veil and domino, and descend 
again; then the fun will begin. Everything is 
favorable for ub — we are about the same bight, 
our forms arc much alike and our hair exactly 
the same color, thanks to our mothers being 
twins and perfect picture* of each other; alto¬ 
gether I anticipate plenty of fun by our double 
masquerading. What do you say to it? ” 
The room fairly echoed with Mabel’s merry 
laughter as she exclaimed: —Eoline Early, I 
never heard of anything so delightful; if I were 
Eugene, I should call you a trump, but, as it is, 
I can only say you are a perfect darling." And 
she gave me an enthusiastic hug. “Are we to 
toll mamma about i his ? “ 
“ No,” I answered. “ I want Eleanor to give ub 
a curie blanche in this matter. I want to sur¬ 
prise her also. 
Mabel consulted her mother, and returned, 
saying we could do just as we liked, only we 
must not be too extra™ "sM, "Very well," I 
answered, “ we had better do our shopping this 
morning, and go to Madame Dumont s; she will 
be busy after to-day with others.” 
Mabel ordered tho carriage, and we spent the 
rest of tho morning in selecting our dresses 
from the quantity of fHiry fabrics polite eales- 
men displayed to us, then called at Dumont’s to 
leave our orders. Madame had to be told our 
secret, and she entered quite hourtlly into It, 
promising to make tho dresses aa lovely afi 
possible. Eugene Obligingly informed us he 
was (o attend “Queen Elizabeth” as the “Earl 
of Essex.” and his look of grieved astonishment 
—when wc refused to reveal our character in 
t urn- was comical. “ I suppose you really think 
you can disguise yourself so that I cannot rec¬ 
ognize you '!" be said, with an Incredulous smile, 
and 1 answered, “You shall see." 
Mabel and I were in our pleasant altting-room 
on the afternoon of St. Valentine’s Day, indulg¬ 
ing in a little good-natured gossip about our 
visitors of the previous evening, bhe was deep 
in the mysteries of her crotchet, and I sat list¬ 
lessly turning tho leaves of tho book 1 had been 
reading, when the door opened and Eugene en¬ 
tered, bearing two superb bouquet*. “Oh, how 
exquisite!’’ Mabel and I exclaimed, in a breath. 
“I met John bringing them up," and took 
them from him," Eugene answered, handing 
one to each of ub; "they are from Tristan’s 
greenhouse, I think." Simultaneously, each 
drew from its hiding-place a dainty card, and 
each colored ns oho read upon her card, " Com¬ 
pliments of SI.. Valentine,” and recognized the 
handwriting. “Of course you have not the 
most remote idea where they come from," Eu¬ 
gene said, with a roguish twinkle in his hazel 
eyes. I buried my face in my flowers to hide my 
flushed cheeks as I answered: —“Why, how 
could wc? ‘Compliments of St. Valentine’is 
not very definite. I think.” 
Eugene laughed outright as he exclaimed: 
“ Oh, you girls are Innocence personified 
“ I think very likely you brought, them to us 
yourself," said Mabel. 
“ Indeed I did not. I sent bouquets to two of 
my most ardent admirers, accompanying each 
with a charming sent iment that, will make each 
lady think tiers is the brightest prospect for 
obtaining my fair hand.” Eugene answered com¬ 
placently. 
“ Well, really, Eugene, your self-conceit is 
absolutely astonishing," said his sister. 
“ I can't help It, toy dear. I suppose T had to 
resemble you in something, and as that is your 
most prominent quality-be ended his sen¬ 
tence abruptly, and left the room just in time 
to escape the ball of zephyr Mabel hurled at his 
head. 
Madame Dumont fulfilled Iter promise well, 
and the dresses were lovely indeed, as standing 
before our mirrors that evening, we gave the 
finishing touches to our toilettes, then went to 
Aunt Eleanor’s room for her Inspection. She 
was charmed, and declared nothing could have 
been more lovely; but asked why they were 
alike. Mabel explained, and as T gave her a sig¬ 
nificant look, added: “Now, mamma, I will go 
and put on my mask and veil, then go down to 
the library, to let papa see my costume; when 
Eoliue gets on the domino she will follow." 
Aunt Eleanor went to tho library, to wait for 
us, and returning to our room, I donned the 
veil; then, with a parting injunction from Mabel 
not to laugh, descended the stall's. Entering 
the library .1 said, a la MabelWell, papa. 
eaid, eagerly. 
“Well, I propose, in the first place, that we 
hat :• dresses made exactly alike, for the charac¬ 
ter of ‘ Moonlight.’ " 
Mabel looked puzzled. “ I don't see what we 
could get that would resemble moonlight," she 
said. 
how do 1 look 
Uncle Roger eyed me a moment , then said; 
“ Bless me, Mab! you fairly dazzle my old eyes! 
I thought It was Luna herself. That is Eolitie’s 
diamond cornet your veil is fastened with, isn’t 
it? Those gems are superb; they are the finest 
I ever saw." 
They eyed me with such glances of satisfac¬ 
tion that It was hard to control my mirth, and T 
coughed so energetically that Aunt Eleanor 
was quite alarmed, and asked anxiously If my 
lungs were troubling me again. Then I caught 
sight of a pink domino in the hall, and I gave 
way entirely, and the room falrlv rang with our 
laughter, as the door opened and Mabel stood 
upon the threshold For a moment her parent’s 
faces were a study: then they joined In the 
laugh, and declared the disguise perfect. 
Uncle Roger was to accompany us to our place 
of destination,—we preferred to have no other 
escort—and our private carriage would come 
for us when we wished to return. Mabel pre¬ 
ceded me, and when 1 entered short ly after, 
taking the flint arm offered—which happened 
to beffbat of Ivanhoe—I could not help hearing 
the exclamations: “How lovely?" " Who is 
she?" “What, an exquisite costume!" and many 
others which were uttered near me. Shortly 
after my entrance, a Hill figure In the dress of 
" Hamlet” approached me and offered his arui, 
which I carelessly accepted. I could not repress 
a start as my companion bent down and said in 
a low tone:—“Did you fancy you could deceive 
mo by any amount of disguise, and that, in the 
radiant dress of * Moonlight’ I would fail to rec¬ 
ognize my friend, Miss Earle ?” 
I glanced up and met the dark eyes that had 
looked into mine so often this Winter, as I an¬ 
swered “ Yes, I believe I had fancied myself 
well disguised ; but I think my eyes are as pen- 
trating as your own, and In 4 Hamlet' I recognize 
Captain Richmond." 
He gave his low, musical laugh that was always 
so pleasant to my ears, and said .—“Then suppose 
we forget ‘Moonlight’ and ‘Hamlet,’ and bo 
Miss Earle and Captain Richmond for a while 
at least." 
M r. Raymond was not masked, and seeing h i m 
by Mabel’s side as of*cr> r*s his duty of host 
would permit, I knew fiu had recognized her. 
Half an hour passed rapidly, and I had just dis¬ 
missed Ilamlct, when Mabel brushed by me, 
saying hurriedly“ Everybody has discovered 
u.* now; I'm going up stairs—follow me." A 
few moments after, I ascended aback stairway, 
and found Mabel waiting for me. The dressing- 
room was, us wo expected, ent irely deserted; 
and as we made our hasty exchange Mabel said: 
“ Eugene has spoken to me; he says be is deter¬ 
mined to discover you, so look out for him. 
There, hand me your fan; then I am ready." 
She turned as she reached the door, saying; 
“There Is a quadrille forming now; f promised 
tho next waltz to Mr. Raymond." 
“Very well. Petite; i will fill your place to 
the beat of my ability,” I answered, and she 
left me. As I entered the saloon soon after, 
somo one claimed my haud for the quadrille, 
arid I could not help smiling as 1 saw Hamlet, 
approach Mabel and. bending over her, evidently 
make some request. She mimicked to perfec¬ 
tion my fashion of playing with my fan, then 
finally accepted his arm. and tonic her place 
among the dancers. When the quadrille was 
finished, 1 pleaded fatigue as an excuse for de¬ 
clining a promenade, and had just dismissed 
my partner, when Eugene came to tnc and sold 
triumphantlyI’ve found out Eoline; she is 
superb to-night.” Then, as the band struck up 
“The Blue Danube," “I mean to ask her for 
(his waltz." 
I saw him go to Mabel and speak to her. She 
shook her head, and, with a gesture evidently 
expressing a previous engagement, placed her 
band in that of Hamlet, and (lie next moment 
they w hirled past me, just as Mr. Raymond bent 
over me, saying, “ You have not forgotten your 
promise. Miss Mabel, I am to have this waltz?" 
I thought I certainly did not remember making 
any such promise, but kept it. nevertheless. I was 
tired dancing, and, after the first few turns, was 
obliged to confess it. Mr. Raymond said noth¬ 
ing, but quietly drew me from the daucing sa¬ 
loon, through the long hall and into t he con¬ 
servatory. The place seemed like fairy land. 
With Its pretty fountains, whose jets of water 
pattered into tho marble basin with a low, musi¬ 
cal sound: the air was fragrant with the breath 
of the rich, tropical plants, and over all fell the 
soft, subdued light of the astral lamps that were 
swinging from the ceiling like Imprisoned 
moons. With a .sigh of relief, I sank into 
an easy chair within a sort- of bower formed 
of cedar and flow ers, while Mr. Raymond leaned 
against a marble pillar that supported a statue 
and looked down at ino. 
“Have yon been enjoying yourself?” he 
asked,at length. 
“Ob, very much," I answered. “I think 
masquerades arc charming." 
“ I detest i hem," be responded. Impatiently. 
“I have not bad a glimpse of your face for an 
age. Mibb Leroy, remove your mask for a little 
while ; almost every one’s dancing now, and we 
are entirely alone. I want to see your face when 
I talk t o you, and your mask is tantalizing.” 
He made a motion as if to remove it, but I 
drew back. Baying:—"No, I cannot; some one 
else might see me, and that would spoil all, you 
know." The next moment, before I could ut¬ 
ter a word, ho had caught both my hands in his, 
and, in a few passionate words, told the story of 
his love. I was so frightened for a moment 
that I could not command my voice, and then, 
with almost a cry, I snatched my hands from 
hlru, exclaiming: — “Oh, Mr. Raymond, forgive 
me! 1 did not dream of a mistake like this. I 
would do anything to have spared you this. I 
am not. Mabel, but-” 1 could not finish, but 
drew' aside my mask. He gave a single glance, 
then sprang to his feet, with the exclamation, 
i “ Great heavens—Miss Earle! ” 
The next moment I was alone. I sat for an 
Instant, powerless to move, blaming myself for 
ever having proposed this change, and wonder¬ 
ing what T had better do. I arose at last and 
went to fulfil an engagement for the “Lancers,” 
though I felt In no mood for further enjoyment. 
The words T had bean! troubled me, and I 
wished I could do something to set matters 
right, I saw Mr. Raymond re-enter the saloon, 
and, though he mingled with the guesi3 as be¬ 
fore, he was a trifle paler and I was sorry he 
was not a guest, eo that he might leave the 
house, as I knew he was wishing to do. He 
avoided me, but did not, as I hoped he would, 
seek Mabel. Hamlet seemed to be the shadow', 
and I smiled when I thought of Captain Rich¬ 
mond’s surprise when ho should discover hla 
mistake. 
I was standing talking to an Intensely stupid 
man, and wondering how 1 should get rid of 
him, when Mabel brushed by mo and whispered, 
“Come to the dressing-room, quick; I watt 
you." She seemed.in a sort of nervous haate, 
and, excusing myself, I followed her. She ex¬ 
claimed, hastily, as 1 entered the room:—" Give 
me your domino and put on this veil, quick; 
then go down to the conservatory; there’s some 
one waiting for you there.” 
“ But, Mabel, I don’t understand," I began, 
when she interrupted me ; 
“Nevermind understanding anything. It is 
Captain Richmond. Ho has made a dreadful 
mistake, and—but, I cannot tell you; go down 
and you will understand." 
She was very much agitated, and in a moment 
the truth flashed through my mind; tho mis¬ 
take of an hour ago had been repeated. “ Oh, 
this dreadful masquerade 1" I said, with some¬ 
thing like a sob, as I fastened tho veil, with 
trembling fingers. 
“I told him I would return In a moment, so 
be quick," said Mabel; and, with nervous troad, 
scarce knowing what I dkl, I entered the con¬ 
servatory. It was ball an hour before I left It, and 
I canno! possibly tell what transpired during 
that timo. Suffice it to soy that nt its end the 
old, old story had been once more repeated, tho 
question so old, yet ever new, asked again. The 
answer proved satisfactory, for when I again 
entered the saloon I was conscious that I was 
free no longer, for I had given my llfo into tho 
keeping of another. 
When the timo came for unmasking, Mabel 
and I again met In the dressing-room and laid 
aside the domino and veil. I think tuy face told 
Mabel something, for she smiled knowingly, 
but said nothing. I descended tho stairs In ad¬ 
vance, and, catching a glimpse of Mr. Raymond 
standing alono, I went to him and said, frankly, 
“ Mr. Raymond, I want to a^k you to foiglva mo 
for something that happened this evening; 
and—” my voice faltering a little In my earnest¬ 
ness—" will you please promise to forget ? " Wo 
understood each other, and with a flush coming 
into his face, he said“ And you will keep my 
secret?” 
“ Gladly," I answered, and I knew all trouble 
was over as I saw him lending Mabel into sup¬ 
per, Just- as Captain Richmond, with on air 
of quiet authority which amused me, drew my 
baud through bis arm and followed. 
Many glances of perplexity and surprise were 
cast at us as Mabel and I happened to be stand¬ 
ing near each other. Several gentlemen ap¬ 
proached us, and one of them—Mr. St. John by 
name-asked, with a puzzled lookReally, 
Miss Earle, I’in afraid some of ua have been 
making mistakes this evening; may I ask which 
ouo of you ladles has been personating 1 Moon¬ 
light’ this evening? " 
“ Both of us," 1 answered, with a smile, 
lie looked atlli more puzzled, and said:—“I 
don’t think I put toy question right. Which of 
you wore the pink domino?" 
Mable answered as I hod done—“ Both of us." 
Mr. 8t. John gave up in despair, while another 
gentleman sold; — “ St. Joint, you have not put 
the question right yet. I’ll solve the mystery 
for you. Silas Eoline, which wore the domino 
first, and last?" 
“Tho same one,” I answered; and, in the 
laugh that followed, he declared he gave It up, 
it was no use trying to find out anything a lady 
wished to conceal- 
The next day a gentleman sought an Inter¬ 
view with ray father, and another called upon 
Uncle Roger. The business must have proved 
satisfactory, for in the following May a bridal 
party embarked upon a vessel bound from New 
York to Liverpool. I need scarcely tell of whom 
this party consisted, as 1 think my readers have 
sufficient discrimination to render that un¬ 
necessary. 
- 4 -»~*- 
SPARKS AND SPLINTERS. 
Sic transit—that across the ocean. 
a pealed proposal—t he engagement kiss. 
A ntg for your bill of faro—show mo your bill 
of company.— [Swift. 
“A BCMPEiiat parting," as tho drunken man 
said when he ran up against the post. 
The popular notion of genius is—of one who 
can do almost everything—except make a living. 
It l.i one of the curiosities of Natural History 
that a horse eats beat when lie has not a bit in 
his mouth. 
Tan latest definition of a gentleman ifi a man 
wiio can put on a clean collar without being 
conspicuous. 
Why is a ballet-dancer a most inhuman crea¬ 
ture? Because her greatest delight is to exe¬ 
cute her grand pas. 
