29© 
MOOBE’S BUBAL 5^ 
YOBBEB 
MAY 
HELP FROM THE HELPLESS. 
I caugiit the murmur of the billowy wheat. 
That rolled its wealth of waves along the plain ; 
“ I tremble, for I wait the thresher’s beat, 
And the hard stones that grind the hupless grain ; 
Yet by my silent pain the world is fed; 
I die, to give its famished millions bread.” 
Dare hang the plundered vine; it sighed—“ I mourn 
My graphs, that hid not from the vintner's eye 
The summer in their hearts; now crushed and torn. 
They yield their life, and yet It will not die; 
The years shall guard it for Us fate benign, 
To bo poured out anew in generous wine." 
Brother, borno down by sorrow, have not we 
Given to the thresher’s hand both elm IT and grain 't 
And did we not our latest fruitage sec 
Crushed in the wine-press for the vintner’s gain '! 
May some sad heart hot wtn from thine and mine 
Bread for its hour of need, and soul-iDSpirlng wine I 
(§ur Storir-StcUor. 
CATCHING A BUTTERFLY, 
“Kate, love, who do you think Contemplates 
a visit to us, next month ?” 
“ If it. ploaso heaven, not your Aunt Emily, 
with her live unruly cherubs!" replied my wife, 
upsetting her work-hox in her consternation. 
"No, my dear," I replied, with an inward 
shudder at the suggestion, "that, at least, is 
spared us. This letter is from Cousin John 
Durham." 
" What! our scientific relative ! O, Harvey!” 
“ My dear, consider; wo haven’t seen him for 
over Jive years.” 
“And consider, Harvey, how much more 
scientific and absent-minded lie will be than he 
was live years ago; he was dreadful enough 
then. Do you recollect Ids wiping ids mout h 
with Mrs. Dean's point lace handkerchief, mis¬ 
taking it. fora napkin? Or, how ho salted ids 
coffee instead of his egg, remarking afterward, 
with a surprised countenance, that the coffee 
had a‘somewhat peculiar flavor’that morn¬ 
ing !” 
"‘Eccentricities of genius,’my love, as Mr. 
Pickwick says. 
“And O, his room I" pursued my wife, un¬ 
heeding the interruption ; "think how it will 
look at the time he's here, swarming with 
snakes and toads,and bugs wit h dreadful Latin 
names, spitted on needles 1" 
“There, tak'o breath a little, Kitty. Why,I 
thought you were really fond of John.” 
“And so I am. lie’s a dear old fellow after 
all. Hut tune’s the rub, Harvey :—Cousin Floy 
is coming at the sarno time. Now, to bring a 
beautiful, fashionable young lady int o collision 
with such a queer genius as John Durham - 
they’ll certainly dash ! And John is so absurd 
with young girls 1 treats them us if they wore 
children, not worth his notice. It's ridiculous, 
for he’s scarcely thirty-eight himself," 
" Well, uiy love, I can only advise you to get 
your rooms ready, and—trust to Providence 1" 
Three weeks alter arrived our charming 
Cousin Flay* One winter of belichood in New 
York had left the roses still unladed In her 
cheeks, and her eyes as bright a blue as over. 
There was a rustic freshness and piquancy 
about her, savoring rather Of I ho woods and 
fields than of crowded hall rooms and unhealthy 
hours. She laughed merrily as Kate related 
her tribulations. 
“ Why, Kate, I'm delighted- what a queer 
genius he must be, I'm going to try and make 
a conquest of him." 
Kate shook her head, laughing. “ 1 wouldn’t 
attempt, it, Floy; you might its well try to flirt 
with an elephant.” 
“ We shall see," said Floy. 
Next day about tea time, John appeared, A 
fine-looking, although not handsome fellow; 
massive and broad-shouldered,.with a pair of 
very dark gray eyes looking out from black, 
over-hanging eyebrows; black hair curling 
thickly over his head, and a complexion deeply 
embrowned by his long sojourn in a southern 
land ; rather careless in his dress, and dread¬ 
fully absent in his manners—such was John 
Durham, the hero of my story. 
Floy, looking her sweetest, in white and blue, 
her blonde ringlets falling over her shoulders, 
awaited us in the drawing-room. 
“ Our cousin, Mr. Durham. Floy," says Kate. 
“John, this is a dear little cousin of mine —Miss 
Florence Bird.” 
" Good evening, sir," said Floy, as she glanced 
upward in timid admiration at this tall, broad- 
shouldered genius. 
“ How d’ye do, sissy," says John, shaking her 
little hand very kindly, though scarcely glanc¬ 
ing at her ns he does so. 
Kate laughs—I laugh ; Floy, despite her vex¬ 
ation, laughs too. John stands grave and puz¬ 
zled. regarding us with wondering attention. 
“ My dear John," says Kate, at length, " were 
you aware you were introduced to a young lady ? 
Miss Floy has been ‘ out ’ a whole winter,” 
" I beg her pardon, most sincerely." replied 
John, bowing low, with a degree of grave irony 
in histone, for his second glance had scarcely 
convinced him. 
And so we nil sit down—Floy pouting a little; 
Kate rosy with the laughter she tries vainly to 
suppress. 
“Well, Cousin John, we were all deeply in¬ 
terested in your last article in the-Month¬ 
ly,” said I, after a pause. 
" Except me, if you please,” said Miss Floy, 
pertly, “ for I never took the slightest interest 
in flies and grasshoppers, and such disgusting 
creatures." 
I looked at the little damsel in astonishment; 
she tossed up her hands disdainfully. John 
eyed her as he would a very snuey child. 
“ Have some bread ?’’ he. asked, coolly. 
I "Thank you," said Floy; "perhaps you will 
have the goodness to pass iny third oup of tea 
without drinking It, Mr. Durham; you have 
disposed of two cups of tea that were on their 
way to me, already." 
Florence, despite her displeasure, could not 
avoid a little hysterical giggle as she spoke. 
John, really coloring, begged her pardon, and 
passed her cup. Then, by way of conciliation, 
lie addressed a few words of conversation to 
her. 
“What school are you attending at present, 
miss—Miss Flora?” 
"I have completed my education, sir,” in a 
frigidly dignified tone. 
“Indeed! I wish I could say as much, Miss 
Floy,” is John's dry rejoinder.as with an amused 
smile lie l urns away from her to direct his con¬ 
versation to Kate and me. When Jolm chooses 
to talk, iiis conversation is truly delightful— 
even Floy sits entranced, listening to his ani¬ 
mated descriptions of the new and strange 
countries ho had seen. 
“ Weil, what do you think of your ‘conquest* 
now?” whispers Kate, a little maliciously as, 
tea ended, we enter the parlor together. 
“Who wants to make a conquest of Sttch an 
old bear?” asks Floy, shortly. 
But. next morning, lo and behold ! appeared 
Miss Floy, in her simplest dress, her pretty fair 
hair braided round her head, and an air of de¬ 
mure propriety diffused nil over her little per¬ 
son. She greeted John with dignified humility. 
John, who had quite forgotten yesterday’s little 
paasage-of-nrms, returned the greeting kindly, 
but took slight notice of her otherwise. She 
tried to talk profoundly to him, and bored him 
terri bly; and when that even ing she approached 
him, bearing a ponderous geological work, one 
passage of which she innocently asked him to 
“explain.” John, I am sorry to say, lost pa¬ 
tience, and “snubbed” our little cousin shame¬ 
fully. 
“My dear Miss Floy,” lie said, very blandly, 
“if I were not afraid of offending a young lady 
who has ‘completed her education,' I would 
advise you not to at tempt, at present a work of 
this profound nature. Kate has in her library 
a book entitled 'Short Lessons in Natural His¬ 
tory for Youthful Beginners,' which* if you 
really desire to iearn, you will find both amus¬ 
ing and instructive.” 
“Thank you. sir,” said Floy, coloring scarlet, 
and making him a sweeping courtsy, “ 1 ’m sorry 
I disturbed your sublime meditations, even fur 
a moment." 
From that lime Floy,throwingasidoher little 
pedantic mask, resumed her curls, her petu¬ 
lance, her sarcastic onslaughts. One day she 
wrote a parody of liis lnt t article very i« \ 4 X.'y 
done it was, too, with most, laugh-provoking 
caricatures—and loft it in plain sight on his 
study table. Her little sarcastic speeches were 
as stinging as the wasps’ nest she hired our 
little Irish boy to deposit in his coat pocket. 
The good professor, though usually indifferent 
to her attacks, manifested nfc times the irrita¬ 
tion of a great dog when a fly tickles ids nose 
too incessantly; at which time Floy’s exulta¬ 
tion was excessive, 
"Now, John, I’ll take no denial; you must go 
to the picnic with us.” 
" 0, my dear Kate-” 
" You needn't talk if you don’t want to; but 
go you must. It’s very bad for you to confine 
yourself to the society of Hies and cook roaches, 
and .such ‘pesky varmints'—isn't it, Floy, dar¬ 
ling mustn't lie go!” 
"I wouldn’t urge him," said Floy, with a 
haughty shrug, “ t he flies, the cockroaches, and 
the other pretty little creatures, would shed 
more t ears over his absence than we are likely 
to, 1 dare say.” 
John looked really hurt, for a moment, as lie 
-glanced across the table at his savage little op¬ 
ponent. Kate gave her a cross look that appalled 
her somewhat. 
" Come, John, you’ll go with us.” 
" Well, yes,’ John assented at last, with a sigh 
of resignation ; but to Floy he addressed neither 
word nor look during the remainder of the 
breakfast. 
Two hours later we were on our way—a merry 
parly of thirty or forty at the least. A ride of 
several miles brought us to Aylvan Falls, a place 
whose wild ami romantic beauty rises before 
me now, like the memory of a delightful dream. 
Plunging Into the woods at otioc, we followed 
the narrow path that h-d to the falls, the dis¬ 
tant music of which soon resounded in our 
ears. On we scrambled, often “ Indian file,” 
over the narrow up hill and down hill path that 
led through the woods; shouting and scream¬ 
ing as we clambered over the huge rocks that 
often strove to arrest our way. The music- of 
j the falls grew louder and louder, and at length 
a sudden turn in the path brought them to our 
j view. Down what seemed a huge stairway 
hewn in the solid rock, t hey plunged, bursting 
into a white fury of foam over the detached 
pieces of rock which here and there strove to 
intercept their mad career. 
Here we paused to rest, admire the scenery, 
and eat our luncheon, for which the most poetic 
mind was by this time ravenously anxious. 
With two exceptions, we were all in the best of 
spirits. One of these was John who, never 
much at his ease in such a gathering, began to 
feci excessively "bored,” and took the earliest 
opportunity to slip off, unpcrceived. The other 
was Floy who, for such a nat urally bright little 
body, appeared uncommonly dull; and after a 
while, she too slipped away, deserting several 
youthful admirers, who had been trying to en¬ 
tertain her. The history of her subsequent ad¬ 
ventures I received from Kate, 
Floy, when she set out, had no intention of 
roaming to any distance; but, absorbed in her 
own rat her sorrowful reflections, she wandered 
on insensibly. Poor little coquette! She now 
suspected, I think, that she was becoming en¬ 
tangled in the net she bad east for another, and 
was by no means so Insensible to John’s cool¬ 
ness as she would have had us imagine. It was 
not till she had wandered sonic distance that, a 
feeling of loneliness oppressed her, and she 
turned to retrace her steps. But that was no 
light matter; it was easy, very easy, to lose 
one’s-self in these old woods. Amid all the 
crooks and turns and -devious pathways, the 
poor child soon found herself bewildered* and 
began to cry in sad earnest. Then she called 
for help, but no voice answered her. Plunging 
desperately at last Into a path she had a vague 
hope might load her in the right direction, she 
followed it for some distance, pausing, all at 
once, with a violent arart, as in a little thicket 
on the side of the hill she saw John Durham! 
Floy’s first fooling was one of intense relief; 
the next instant- she shrank hack Into the shel¬ 
ter of the trees, “i'll follow at a distance,” 
she muttered, “but, not let him see me for the 
world—th© pompous old prig!” 
Still she could not, for the life of her, help 
putting out her little head to see what the 
"putnpOUH Old prig” was doing. With his hat 
lightly extended in his hand, an expression of 
mingled rapture and anxiety on his fare, lie was 
stealing cautiously toward the edge of the bank. 
There* evident ly, in the center of that wild rose 
tapestry, swinging so gracefully from tree t<> 
tree, had settled the prize he was so anxious to 
secure. Floy watched him, a look of mingled 
amusement and contempt comically depicted 
on Iter pretty face. 
“There, now! one would think the whole 
world depended on ids catching that butterfly. 
I hope you’ll lose her, Mr. Pompous. Good! 
slie’s fluttered off. Now, he follows her, all ex¬ 
citement. Gracious! lie’s just on the edge of 
the bank! Shall 1 call? Nonsense! He’s big 
enough to take care of himself. Ho wouldn’t 
thank me—O!” 
With a piercing shviek, 1Toy sprang from the 
thicket where she had concealed herself. John, 
In the hurry and excitement of the chase, had 
set his foot upon a rolling stone. The conse¬ 
quences were disastrous. Over the steep bank 
he went, clutching vainly at the brambles for 
support . An appalling silence followed. 
Floy stood one Instant, white and almost 
stunned with the sudden shock. Then she 
rushed forward, gained l,ho bank, and kneeling 
on its edge, looked down* with an agonized, 
shrinking glance. There he lay, poor fellow! 
quite pule and still, his head dangling backward 
a little, while over those sable locks a narrow, 
crimson stream slowly wound its way. His 
arms were thrown out , his hands still clenched 
convulsively over the bramble clusters he had 
clutched in his fall;—[Concluded next week. 
-- 
SPARKS AND SPLINTERS. 
The highest rate of interest that one ever 
pays is for harrowed trouble. 
A New Albany man has two sons and fifteen 
daughters. Ho thinks of starting a shirt factory. 
The two things which make the most impres¬ 
sion on a man are his first boots and his first 
love. 
Mits. Jones says her husband is a three-hand¬ 
ed man right hand, left hand, and a little behind 
hand. 
"Shoot folly as it flies—Pope,” was set up by 
a stupid printerShoot polly as she tties- 
rop!” 
Tug announcement that "truth is stranger 
than fiction ” is said to depend chiefly upon who 
tells it. 
Modki. wivos formerly took a “stitch in 
time; " now, with the aid of sewing machines, 
they take one in no I ime. 
The life of a bachelor is described to be a 
splendid breakfast, :i tolerable dinner and a 
most miserable supper. 
“ O MA,” said a little girl who had been to the 
show, “I’ve seen the elephant; and lie walks 
backwards and eats with his tail,” 
Fashion is rarely useful. It scorns utility. 
That of wearing the hair loosely down the back 
is now going out justasfiy time begins to dawn. 
"Aw! how duth you like my mustache, Miss 
Laura?” lisped a cl.-tudy to a merry girl. "Oh, 
very much. It looks like the fur on the back of 
a caterpillar." 
The last sensation in San Francisco is a darkey 
who can drink six quarts of beer In 15 minutes. 
He is coming east in the spring. Look out for 
a corner In malt liquors. 
The Chicago man who stepped behind a pair 
of mules that he intended to purchase, asked 
with much feeling, when he was picked out of 
the gutter," if the derrick killed anybody else ?” 
A Georgia woman is accredited with having 
raised a large family, although not out of her 
teens. It. washer mother-in-law's family, and 
she did it with a keg of gunpowder planted in 
the cellar. 
HEAVEN. i 
On talk to me of Heaven; 
I love to hear about my home above; 
For there doth many a loved one dwell 
In light and joy ineffable. 
Oh tell me how they sldno and sing. 
While every heart rings echoing. 
And every glad and tearless eye 
Beams like the seraphs, gloriously. 
Tell me of that t riumphant palm 
Each hand in glory beareth ; 
Tell me of that celestial calm 
Each face in glory weareth. 
Oh happy, luippy country! 
Where then? entorcth not a sin, 
And Death who keeps the portal fair 
May never onco come in. 
No grief can change their day to night, 
The datknejss of that land is light: 
Sorrow and sighing God hath sent 
Far thence to endless punishment. 
And never more may one dark tear 
Bedim their happy eyes; 
For every one they shed while here 
In tearful agonies, 
Glitters u bright and dazzling gem. 
In their Immortal diadem. 
Oh lovely, hi doming country ! where 
Flourishes all that we deem fair: 
And though no flowers, or trees of green 
No bowery gardens there are seen, 
Nor perfumes load the breeze: 
Nor hears the ear material sound, 
Yet joy* at God's right, hand arc found, 
The archetypes of these. 
Oh happy homo ! the land of birth 
Of all we highest prize on earth : 
The stories that rack this world beneath 
Must there forever cease: 
The only air the blessed breathe 
Is purity and peace. 
Oh, blessed blessed land ! In thee 
Shines the nnvnlieil Divinity; 
Shedding through each adoring breast 
A holy calm; a halcyon rest: 
And those blest souls whom Death did sever 
Have met lo mingle joys forever. 
Oh when will Heaven unclose to me; 
Oh when will 1 Its glories see; 
And my faint, weary spirit stand 
Within that happy, happy land. 
[Mrs. Southey. 
-- 
JESUS, THE BURDEN-BEARER. 
BY 51 ItS. N. A. HOLT. 
How aad and desolate must bo the lives of 
those who do not trust in Jesus, the great Bur¬ 
den-bearer! I cannot understand how they 
can look ill I,he empty cradle and the half-worn- 
out garments that never will be used again. I 
cannot understand how they can hoar t he sad 
silence of 1 ho u tile hail ami deserted nursery 
that will never more echo to the music of 
happy voices-and dancing foot. How can they 
walk in the shadow of i lie groat black wing of 
death? 1 low cun they drink of the bitter cup 
of woe and sorrow ? Nil wonder that the wail¬ 
ing of woe comes to our car upon every breeze. 
No wonder that there avo breaking hearts, and 
eyes faded out by scalding I eardrops. No won¬ 
der there are restless wanderers in distant 
lands, upon Alpine mountains, and upon tire 
shores of the blue eastern seas. Alas, alas ! for 
those pale mourner.-s, who are trying to bear 
their burdens alone! 
lint is there no balni for such soul-wounds as 
these? Is there no harbor from the fierce wild 
storms of this rough world? Must the weak, 
trembling soul drift foreveroul upon the stormy 
ocean waves and shiver in the rude w inds until 
ovory fiber of their being quivers with agony? 
Is there no holy star to shine out upon the 
dark waters and lead to the quiet harbor of 
eternal blessedness? Yes, thank God! the 
sweet star is shining upon the mad waves ; but, 
ulus! the trembling voytiger will not sail in its 
calm light. There is a voice speaking in tones 
louder than the roar of t he billow, saying, “ Cast 
thy burden upon the LOUD, and ho will sustain 
thee, and guide thy lift! boat to the green shore, 
where no wild tempest ever comes.” 
Oh, foolish voyager upon the stormy ocean 
of life! why do you not grusp the strong arm 
of Him who is able to sustain you, and guide 
your frail boat to the port of peace? Oh, per¬ 
ishing man of the world ! why do you grasp the 
fading toys of the earth to your bleeding bosom 
while Jesus stands knocking at the door of 
your heart, waiting to be admitted to the silent 
inner chamber that lias never been lighted up 
with Divine radiance? And you, pale mourner 
over faded flowers and broken tablet, why do 
you not let the Divine Comforter bear your 
loads of grief and wipe away your flowing tears ? 
Do not weep any longer over the green mound 
that hides your Idol, but look away to the ce¬ 
lestial mountain tops where your little lost 
lambkin dwells, “Lost lambkin" did I say? 
No, nor lost, but mved forever, ir» the sunny 
mansion? of a loving God, where the pure soul 
shall never wear the stains of sin. 
Oh why, i ask, does not all the world trust in 
Jesus the Burden-bearer ? Why does it moan 
and weep under Its heavy load of sin and sor¬ 
row? why does it not listen to those sublime 
words, “ Come unto me, all ye that labor and 
are heavy laden?” Why doe3 It forever wear 
the trailing garments of sin and wretchedness? 
Why do not poor sin-crushed human beings 
trust in Jesus, who will wash everv guilty stain 
whiter than snow ? Why ? There is a mystery 
in the simple word "why,” that future ages 
must reveal. 
Trust ip Jesus, friend, and cast your care 
upon Him who will bear it so willingly for you. 
