ADOBE'S BUBAL NEW-YORKER 
98 
THE AGED. 
On, pass ye by tbe a 
With gentle step itnrt slow; 
They have the burden of years to bear, 
And the tide of their (tie Is low. 
Speak kindly a.-; ye erect them, 
l<’or their world Is dim and cold, 
And a beaming look from a youthful heart 
Is the sunlight of the old. 
And commune with the aged; 
Ask them of days gone by: 
You know not what a store they have 
Of hoarded memory: 
Of hopes, that like the rainbow shone. 
Only to fade In tears: 
And love anu sorrow, change and death, 
Bind their long scroll of years. 
And learn yn from the aged 
Hdw with a tranquil eye 
They look buck on JAfe’s stormy sea 
And all its vanity; 
The hope deferred, the dark despair, 
The dally toll ami strife, 
They are burled all in the waves of time; 
Of the aged ask of life! 
And pray yo for the aged ; 
Wit): tottering steps they stand 
Upon the very borders 
Of the Bverlosting band. 
Ask for them strength in weakness, 
And Faith's supporting rod ; 
And through Death's cold dark water 
The strong right arm of God. 
[Dnmh Lynch. 
HESTEE’S PICTURE, 
BY ESEN E. REXFORD. 
Hester’s picture hunt; over the mantel In 
the plain little sitting room, ami challenged 
admiration from every beholder. It was a 
landscape: In the distance, great mountains 
lifted up their snowy peaks to a warm and hazy 
sl;y, At t he mountain's foot stretched a valley 
through which a river ran, foaming and danc¬ 
ing against the .rocky shores, until the valley 
spread itself out into a wide and level meadow, 
and through this meadow, over which the sun- 
si line lay, bright and beautiful, the river flowed 
in a placid, tranquil way, pa d. willows leaning 
on the banks, to dip their slender branches in 
the water. Visitors always saw this picture the 
minute they entered the little sitting room. It 
seemed to Impress persons with a sense of its 
beauty before they examined It closely. There 
was something km natural, so real about it, that 
It hardly seemed a picture, but a glimpse of 
mountain and meadow and river seen through 
an open window. 
There was a pretty little story connected with 
the picture, which made it more interesting to 
those who knew about it. An old man—a sort 
of podler—had stopped at Hester’s one day, 
and asked for something to eat, saying that he 
felt sick and faint. Hester gave him some 
food, and seeing how pule he was, insisted on 
his lying down and trying to re t himself be¬ 
fore he went on. lie laid down, and H was 
nearly a month before ho left his bed. All 
through his sieltncss Hester nursed him faith¬ 
fully, and attended to his many wants as if he 
had been her father. The old man was wonder¬ 
fully grateful for her kindness, and when he 
went away gave her this picture, to prove Ids 
gratitude. 11 ow he came by It was never known. 
That he underst ood something of its value was 
evident, for ho told Hester, as he gave it to 
her. that if occasion over demanded, she could 
dispose of it in the city at a good price. 
Hut Kkrter never once thought of patting 
with K. dlie had never enjoyed (he inllmmco 
of beautiful things in her plain, Utile country 
home, and this picture was to lier like a revela¬ 
tion fro m some new world of beauty. She would 
sit for hours and study it.and always sbo found 
something to admire that she had not seen be- 
fo.-e. And. like all beautiful things, it acted 
as a incans of refinement, and helped to develop 
her strong natural taste for the beautiful all 
about her. 
“ isn't it. beautiful she used to say to Wire 
Dare often, as he sat with her on Sunday even¬ 
ing?, in the little sitting-room. “I forget my¬ 
self sometimes, and think 1 am looking at a 
real meadow, and can almost hear the water 
running by." 
Of course. Will agreed with her fully. Will 
was not exactly HESTER’S lover in the country 
sense of t he word, because he had never "spo¬ 
ken out’’ regarding his " Intentionsbut the 
neighbors nil Interred, from the regularity with 
which he visited her, that he did intend to 
"speak out" some time, and they thought they 
could tell pretty near what his “ intentions" 
were. Though there had never been any verbal 
understanding between them on Hip matter of 
marriage, 1 think both Will and Hester un¬ 
derstood each other well enough. Young peo¬ 
ple are quite apt, to come to an understanding 
with each other without putting it in words. 
One day Wtt.l came to Hester with great 
news. He had been otter. >d a position in a large 
exporting bouse in South America. Thcsalory 
was something unusual for those days, and if 
he accepted the position, what he would earn 
in two or three years would be enough to start 
him in business, in a modest way. 
Hester found it hard to think of having him 
go so far away and for so long a time, but was 
willing to trust to his judgment. If bethought 
it for the best, she would not say anything to 
keep him back. 
And Will went. 
It was very lonesome for Hester after ho was 
gone. She found herself counting the months 
over, sometimes, that must elapse before his 
return. Time seemed to move at a snail's pace, 
just because she wanted it. to hurry. 
The end of tho second year after Wrr.L'S de¬ 
parture found Hester and her mother In the 
city. A great change -and a sudden one—had 
come Into t heir lives. A mortgage about which 
they had known nothing had fallen due, and 
the owner of it, ahard, grasping, merciless man, 
had turned thorn out of house and home, with 
nothing but their hands between them and ab¬ 
solute want. Hester had tried to get a living 
in the little village by sewing: but, as in most 
small, country places, very little sewing was 
done outside the families, and at Just she had 
to give up the attempt to live in that way. Then 
she had concluded to try tho city. At first, af¬ 
fairs went on smoothly. Bbe had succeeded In 
getting plenty of work to do and at fair wages. 
Then her mother, never very strong, had fallen 
sick, and demanded a good deal of time and 
care, and the drain upon her slender purse was 
frightful to think of, because so little was com¬ 
ing into it. 
Hester worked on, resolutely. She was not 
one of those young women who give tip easily. 
She felt that she vWtSt work. 11 or mother must 
not Buffer, if she did. Late into the nights she 
sat before, her table and stitched away its if life 
depended upon it. And when she thought of 
her mother, growing thinner and whiter every 
day, she felt that life did depend upon it. The 
invalid must have generous diet, the physician 
said; whatever her appetite craved must be 
given her. Often Hester contented herself 
with a< rust, that her mother might have the 
luxury she craved; but the sick woman never 
dreamed of tho sacrifice. 
Hester sat before the one window in the old 
tenement, house this hot, August afternoon, 
and thought. The doctor had told her that 
very day, that what her mother needed ihore 
than anything else was the pure air of her 
native hills; this city air, hot, dry, dusty, was 
stilling her. She would never be any better 
unless she could leave the city. Hut. how to get; 
her Into the country '< Hester thought the 
problem over until she was dizzy. She was half 
worn out, herself, with overwork, and the rent 
was due, and several things mutt, be had right 
away. And taking all those into consideration, 
where was the money to corne from to take her 
mother to the paradise of green fields and wide, 
blue, skies ? 
Thinking of the country made her look up at 
her picture, which had been the one bright 
spot in their city home. Looking at that had 
rested her many times when her eyes ami 
Ungers ached and her head seemed to hold an 
imprisoned whirlwind in it. Looking at the 
picture brought back the remembrance of what 
tho old podler had said when he gave tt to her: 
“// you ever want to dimpose of it, you can do 
so, at <J. (/00d price, in thr city” 
Here she was in the city, and there hung tho 
pie,tine, and if ever she felt the need of money, 
she felt It now. Why not see what could ho 
done with it? But. the thought of letting her 
picture go was like that of part ing with an old 
friend. She had formed an attachment for it 
that was strong and deep. Many associations 
clung to it which she liked to think of. Could 
she let it go ? 
“f oughtn't to think about that,”she said, 
getting up resolutely. “I ought to think of 
how much good mother may derive from it. I 
must oot he selfish.” 
She took down the picture and wrapped it in 
a paper and went out. 
"Mother, mother I" she cried, an hour later, 
os she came hurrying up thestairs, " 1 huvesold 
my picture for $200. Think of that! And you 
can go to the country now." 
The invalid smiled sadly. “ You are wearing 
your life out for me, Hester,” she said, kissing 
her daughter's face; "Gon will repay you, if I 
never can.” 
“You have paid me a thousand times,” an¬ 
swered Hester. “All I ask of you now is, that 
you will get well as fust as possible, when we 
get away from this horrible den. Think of it, 
mother! We shall bo able to see something 
besides a great desert of dusty old houses, with 
a little patch of blue sky overhead, and lot the 
thought strengthen you for the journey." 
It was arranged that they were to leave the 
city on Monday. This arrangement would givo 
them two days to get ready in. Hester busied 
herself in making all needful preparations, and 
tried to forget the picture; but every t ime she 
looked up at the place where it had hung, it 
seemed as if something like sunshine had gone 
out of her life, leaving it v ary bare and bleak. 
They were sitting alone on Saturday evening. 
Hester had got everything ready for their de¬ 
parture bright and early Monday morning. As 
she sat there, she fell to wondering about Wfll. 
She had not heard from him since she came to 
the city. Somehow, lie seemed to have drifted 
out of her sphere of life. She couldn’t tell why; 
perhaps because her sphere of life had changed 
so. She wondered what she should do when 
the money tho picture had brought was gone. 
Out in the country she didn’t expect to find 
much work to do. Winter was corning, by-and- 
by, and she must do something toward gettiog 
ready for it. The look, ahead was gloomy 
enough, because it was so full of uncertainty. 
If she could only know what to depend on, she 
could tell what to do. But the trouble was the 
same with her as with all of its—she couldn’t 
forsee what time would bring to pass. 
Hester couldn't tell why, but she bad never 
been so completely discouraged as she was that 
night. She laid her head down on her hands 
that her mother might not see her, and cried. 
There was a step on the stair, a knock at the 
door. She went and opened it, and a man stood 
on the threshold. 
“ Hester, Hester !’’ cried a cheery, gla 
voice, “don't you know me?" and two stron 
arms were around her before she half compre¬ 
hended what was taking place, and Will was 
kissing her. 
“ Oh, Will ! i* It really you ?” she cried. “ I 
have just been thinking of you!” and then she 
just laid her head down on his shoulder and 
sobbed for very happiness, 
By-and-by, when they were sitting together, 
talking of the past and the present, he tedd her 
how he had returned to his old home and found 
that, she was gone, and none of the old neigh¬ 
bors could tell him where to look for her ex¬ 
cept “ in tha city." Taking this uncertain clue, 
he had come to the city and searched from one 
end of it to the other unsuccessfully. lie had 
nearly given up the search In despair, thinking 
that she had gone elsewhere, when what should 
he happen to see that afternoon, in a picture- 
dealer’s window, but Hie dear old picture of 
Hester's? From the dealer he had learned 
her whereabouts—and here be was! 
“I’ll be back pretty soon," ha exclaimed,sud¬ 
denly, and went out. l'retty soon he came back, 
bringing the pleture. 
“We'll never let it go," lie said, kissing Hes¬ 
ter. “ I shouldn’t have found you if it hadn’t 
been for this.” 
And to-day that picture hangs above their 
mantel in their pleasant homo, the most cher¬ 
ished of all Hester’s “earth possessions." 
-—- 
SPARKS A HD SPLINTERS. 
A tip-top band—Hat band. 
A bad miss—A misdemeanor. 
Food for imagination Fancy bread. 
Current views— Those from the river. 
A Western settler—The sun at evening. 
Tub year of jubilee for frogs—Leap year. 
A criminal court—Flirting with married 
men. 
What part of a fish is like the end of a book ? 
The fln-is. 
One way to get out of a scrape—Let your 
board grow. 
What relation is the door to the mat? A 
step-father. 
When is a thief like a reporter ?—When he 
takes notes. 
SuLrnun comes from Vesuvius—therefore it 
is good for eruptions. 
Josh Billings says that a red herring will 
keep a man dry better than an umbrella. 
Why do " birds In their little nests agree ? 
Because they would fall out if t hey didn’t. 
A man had an aching tooth, and had it taken 
out. lie says he forgot the pain directly it was 
out of his head. 
The reason why young ladies tue so anxious 
to get husbands is because every woman is 
amiss until she is married. 
The opponents of the Woman's Rights move¬ 
ment insist that at the time of her creation, 
woman was only a side issue. 
A dandy asked a barber's boy if he had ever 
shaved a monkey," No, sir," answered the lad, 
“but if you will take a scat, I'll try." 
“I always sing to please myself,” said a gen¬ 
tleman calling on a lady friend last evening. 
“Indeed, you’re easily pleiiaed then," said she. 
The man who thought he could do business 
without advertising has been compelled to givo 
in. His first advertisement was headed “ Sber- 
; ■ ■ . 1 ,- 1 
“ How does that look, eh ? ” said a big-fisted 
Wuli-street man to a friend, holding up one of 
his brawny hands. "That," said the friend, 
“looks as tho' you'd gone short on your soap.” 
A Terra Haute editor, who speaks with the 
air of a man who has discovered a new fact by 
experience, says that the way to prevent bleed¬ 
ing at. tho nose is to keep your noso out of 
other people's business. 
If the Government believes In placing things 
where they will do the most good, why don't 
they send the peace commissioners to the front 
and let the more valuable soldiers fall back out 
of the way of the bullets? 
A man who married a buxom Irish girl, greatly 
to the horror of his mother amt sister, made 
the following defence:—“If I married an 
American girl I must have an Irish girl to take 
care of her, and 1 cannot afford to support both 
of them.” 
An unconscious play upon words was made, 
the other day, by a little girl while relating to a 
sympathizing lady the loss of two pet calves. 
What caused their death ? asked the lady. Oh! 
was the answer, one was hooked to death, and 
the other died on its own hook. 
An exquisitely-dressed young gentleman, 
after buying another seal to dangle about his 
person, said to the jeweler that he would—ah, 
Jike to have—ah, something engraved on it— 
ah, to denote what he was! Certainly, certain¬ 
ly 1 said the tradesman, I’ll put a cipher on it. 
“HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP.” 
BY DX FORREST P. GUMMKRSON. 
AH, friend ! tbon, too, bast drank 
From sorrow’s cup; 
And know bow sad and drear does 
Grew the world: 
Vr'ben some beloved voice 
Hath silent grown, 
Whose music was to tbee, of sounds, 
Most sweet. 
Hast In the silent watches of the night 
Listened with longing, hut in vain ? 
Upon tho stair will sound those feet 
Never again! 
I mind me of a time, in days like 
These of thine: 
When all the world was dark, the sun 
To me was hid ; 
And life seemed all too dreary. 
And 1 prayed to die, 
That I my loved ono still 
Might linger near. 
And in that hour, when all of life seemed droar. 
And X could only sit alone and weep, 
There came these words to comfort me: 
“ He glvoth His beloved sleep.” 
- 
HOPE A CHARMING TRAIT. 
Hope is a charming trait in men. There is 
something very admirable in conscientious¬ 
ness; in Its depths; in its endurance; in the 
acceptance of unwelcome labor and duty which 
it carries with it. There is also in the stringency 
of fear much that is to he admired. It carries 
with It great activity and intense provocation. 
But, after all, commend me to the sweetness 
and the Inspiration of hope. Men who have 
this faculty largely developed, though they 
have but lit tle education, are children of the 
daylight. They are perpetually alive, to that 
which Is sweetest and best in life. 
It is true that hope itself has its own peculiar 
dangers. The whole generation of what are 
called Hchcntcrx are children of hope. They are 
not balanced by suitable caution, reflection and 
development. Schemers are pioneers of suc¬ 
cess. We always laugh at them, and nbver rec¬ 
ognize how much we are under obligation to 
them. % 
If you are starting in an unknown channel, 
you are not glud of any mishap to him that 
goes ahead of you ; but if he run upon a sand¬ 
bank lie is a buoy for you, and you do not go 
there; and if auothcr strike some obstacle on 
the other side, you take note of him, and avoid 
that obstacle. You profit by the misfortunes 
of the two men, and go between them. You 
take the channel which they both meant to 
take, but missed. 
The men who go ahead concoct new schemes, 
seeking something better, laying the founda¬ 
tion for valuable results, though they do not 
reap them. To be sure, the inventor, in his 
day, received nothing from his invention; but 
then, l hat invention boro fruit in another man’s 
hand a little later. 
Here is a man that sought some public im¬ 
provement. For thirty years he has talked 
about it, ami labored for it,; and nothing came 
of it during Ids life-time; but when he died, 
somebody else got the proceeds of his labors. 
It is the function, then, ol schemers to go 
ahead; to be pioneers; to find new paths; to 
break up the wilderness; to prepare the way 
for those who come after them. Wo speak of 
them slightingly ; we crown their memories 
with contempt almost; we say or them, “ Well, 
they had no ballast; they never succeeded.” 
ff success means to freight one's own pockets, 
they did not succeed ; hut if a man hus succeed¬ 
ed whose life has been a benefit to Ids lcllow- 
men, whether it has benefited him personally 
or not, then they did succeed. 
--• 
“SOLD ON, SAM.” 
In the life of Samuel Hick, ono of John Wes¬ 
ley's preachen?, is an incident which may some¬ 
times be of use to those who solicit funds for 
tho cause of Christian benevolence. Hick was 
a blacksmith by trade; but he was constrained 
by the love of Christ to preach the Gospel, and 
he continued in the work forty-two years, until 
his death. He was a most active propagator of 
the doctrines of Wesley, and a mau of uucon- 
querable faith. So bold and mighty was his 
spirit of prayer, that he often did almost, in¬ 
credible things, and received almost incredible 
answers. He once, in company with his brother, 
visited the place of his birth, to collect money 
for a chapel. lie proposed to call on a man 
who was well known to be very wealthy, but 
penurious. Tito brother thought it would be 
of no use. But Hick went and begged for a 
contribution, and received in return an abso¬ 
lute refusal. At once he was upon his knees, 
praying for the stingy sinner. “ Hold on, Sam,” 
exclaimed he; “I will give you half a crown.” 
But Sam continued, saying to the Lord that that 
was far too little for such a rich man. Sudden¬ 
ly he exclaimed again. “Hold on; I will give 
you two crowns.” Sam ; ow rose from his 
knees, and bore away the v; :swer to his prayer. 
A desperate case demane •• a desperate rem¬ 
edy. When men beg for Christ, sometimes a 
bold stroke is the wisest stroke. Conscience is 
arrayed against avarice; and when conscience 
and Christ both plead against an avaricious 
spirit, the avaricious spirit has the worst of it. 
—Tramlatid /mm the Serulhote. 
■P 
