322 
mOOBE’S BUBAL BEW-70B 
mv. 
MY INSPIRATION. 
BY BOSE GERANIUM. 
O, where aro the voices that woo mo ? 
And what are the silvery sound* 
That rise and come flootiriK unto me 
Till all of my spirit rebounds? 
Say, where are the fair minstrels hidden 1 
They call to me tar o’er the way, 
They sweep to my pillow unbidden 
Anti fly if 1 woo them to stay ! 
1 sit in the summor-liKbt golden, 
I fathom the treacherous air 
And deep among woods, dim and olden, 
I speed at their heck, here and there; 
Or, under the mystical cover 
Of night-hushes, tenderly calm. 
Where soft dews expectantly hover 
On pinions of silver and halm, 
I wait, not a sound do I utter, 
Yet all of my breast is a-boat. 
My pulses rebeilously flutter, 
hike sylvan-shed, run-away feat. 
But oh! for my llfo they appear not. 
Though once -what a rapture of bliss ! 
A murmurous voice sang, “ O fear not,” 
And, light on my cheek, fell a kiss! 
O. where are those spirits that love me 1 
They spring from the tents of the dawn— 
They danco on the sunbeams above me— 
And when 1 would grasp them, are gone! 
Yes they love me. I kuow, tender fairies, 
For backward their tokens they fling. 
And while they are tied to their aeries 
I sit in the valley and sing. 
>torn- 
LEAVING THE PARM: 
STORY FOR YOUNG RURALISTS' WIYE8. 
BY NEAL NEWTON. 
“It Is nothing but v/ork, work, work, from r f j 
morning till night. A farm life is a perfect t a 
slave’s life, and for my part I am sick and tired u f 
of it." Pi 
And the face of the woman standing in the 
dairy-room of 1 he farm-house grew darker and 
uk re dissatisfied, as one after another the rolls re 
of golden butter came to perfection under the a , 
touch of her quick, skillful fingers. gi 
8he was a handsome woman of two-and- ju 
twenty, with wavy, brown hair, scarlet lips, and tr 
a charming face that looked as if made for ai 
smiles and dimples. When Gilbert Drew ai 
married her, three years before, people said he n< 
made a sml mistake ihat this dainty girl, with d< 
her graces and accomplishment*, would never el 
be tit for a farmer’s wife, and would have no u< 
idea of thrift and economy. Nut thus far in 6’ 
her matrimonial career she had not fulfilled, w 
the prophecy of the gossips. Blest with per- g, 
feet health and an active temperament, she f ( 
took readily to household duties and. with the ■■ 
help of a stout girl during the summer mont hs, h 
managed affairs easily and skillfully at the h 
farm-house. u 
The farm itself, Gilbert's wedding gift from h 
grandfather Drew, was large, fertile and situ- v 
ated in ;t pleasant valley, and if well worked 1 
and tended would yield any man a comfortable s 
living and something over for a rainy day. The f 
house was roomy and pleasant, fitted for com- a 
fort as well as convenience. To Gilbert Drew l 
this place seemed the very paradise of homes, c 
He loved his young wife with an absorbing . 
affection; he took pride in his flue, well-stock- 1 
ed farm and comfortable surroundings, and t 
was perhaps as thoroughly content with his lot ; 
in life as it i* possible for any man to be. But i 
of late a feeliog of dissat isfaction had been i 
creeping into the heart of hi* wife: and, like i 
many a mistaken mortal, she failed to appreci¬ 
ate the ror.l and solid comforts that she every 
day enjoyed, and coveted the fair, forbidden 
fruit that seemed just beyond her reach. A 
few months previous to the opening of our 
story sho visited an old school-friend whose 
home was in the city. She attended several 
parties, visited the opera and other places of 
amusement, and rode in the park on sunny 
afternoons; and the gayety and glitter of those 
few weeks so completely turned the head of 
the country-bred woman, that the visit which 
Her husband expected would prove a recrea¬ 
tion to her, only served to make her restless 
and dissalislied with her life. Ever since then 
she had been considering the possibility of in¬ 
ducing Gilbert to give up farming and remove 
to the city; but as yet she had not broached 
the subject to him, and she had felt reluctant 
to do so, for. knowing how much ho was attach¬ 
ed to his present homo, she was well aware that 
a knowledge of her feelings would shock and 
pain him. But on this particular morning she 
was even more discontented than usual, and as | 
he came Whistling up the path and tr. the room 
where sho was working, she made no effort to 
I bide her tears, but met him with such a gloomy, 
pouting face that he stoppel, surprised and 
wondering, in the doorway. 
“Why, at. ran ! vvhat Is the matter?" he asked, 
quioltly. , . , , „ 
“ I am tired of this everlasting housework, 
she answered gloomily. 
Gilbert Drew went forward then, and 
drawing his young wife to him said tenderly: 
“Don’t cry, Alice. I did not know that you 
were working so bard; you should have told 
me before. We will have a better girl, or you f 
can get little Nannie Unions up here to help 
Susan, if that will suit you." 
“I don’t want any more help. If we innst l 
live in this out-of-the-way place, I may as well : 
be a kitchen-maid as anything else. But 1 don’t i 
want to live on a farm, and I wish that you « 
would sell out and go to the city.” 
“Sell the farm and go to the city! Do you 
mean that, ALICE ?" 
• Yob, i mean It. Wliat is the use of our < 
slaving ourselves t o death here, when we might < 
live so much easier and happier in the city ? 
“ I am not euro or that. The farm affords us i 
a comfortable living, anil if wo should sell it 
and go away, i am afraid we miglit see the day 
when wc would bo glad to come back. 
“I am sure that I never should. In the city 
you could get in some business that would 
occupy only a part of your time, and when you 1 
were at liberty wo could go out. and enjoy our¬ 
selves and see something of the world, instead 
of being cooped up In this lonesome place.” 
“ Oh, Alice, I an. so sorry to hoar you talk in 
this way. I thought you were contented and 
happy hero." Ho was surprised and deeply 
grieved, and Alice knew it; hut she bad pon¬ 
dered tills matter too long to give it up easily 
now. and she brought forward every argument 
that she could devise to convince him that she 
was right, and Gilbert Drew went back to 
the Held that morning with a sadder heart than 
he had carried for many a day. 
After that Alice gave him no peace. She had 
sot her heart on leaving the farm, and she was 
constantly picturing to him the easy, care-free 
life she imagined they might live in the city. 
Gilbert was far from sharing her views of the 
subject; hut he loved her too well to be un¬ 
mindful of her pleasure, and finding that she 
would be satisfied with nothing less, he finally 
yielded to her wishes. Having an opport unity 
to dispose of bis farm and stock for a good 
price, he did so,and anothwspring-time found 
our count ry friends safely settled in city quar¬ 
ters. They purchased a handsome house in a 
fashionable locality, and Gilbert obtained the 
position of clerk in a dry goods establishment, 
Through friendly Influence they gained admit¬ 
tance to an aristocratic circle, composed mostly 
of people with wealth and leisure at their dis¬ 
posal. Alice, with her lovely face and easy, 
graceful manners, became quite a belle, and 
tier time was completely occupied in shopping, 
returning the calls of her fashionable friends 
and visiting places of amusement. Gilbert 
grew used to finding the bouse closed and still, 
and hearing the servant girl say that her mis¬ 
tress had gone out. Ho was naturally social, 
and was always glad to have a few friends in of 
an evening and a cosy little supper; but he took 
no interest in the gay society in which Alice 
delighted, and large parties and midnight rev¬ 
elries were utterly distasteful to him. lie was 
occupied at the store only during tin- day, and 
evening after evening ho sat alone, while Ins 
wife passed away the hours at some brilliant 
gathering, listening U words of flattery, and 
forgetting her womanhood and her truth, inas¬ 
much as she forgot to care for the interests of 
her home aud the happiness of the man she 
had promised to love and honor. She had a 
natural fondness for dress; but. in her country 
home, associating with people whose moans 
were similar to her own, she had never indulged 
in any unwarranted extravagance, and had con¬ 
sidered herself well dressed in an alpaca or a 
fresh muslin. But now she had everything 
about her to stimulate and aro.i etbe desire for 
finery, and as Urn ladles with whom she asso¬ 
ciated wore jewels and fine laces, she naturally 
I coveted the same, and was fretful and unhappy 
sometimes, Alice.” he went on, pleadingly; 
“ I want your company so much.” 
“I am not going to be forever tied up at 
home, for anybody," she. retorted, “ and if you 
are lonesome there is nothing to hinder you 
from going out ami enjoying yourself, if you 
only would. Good night; Mrs. ( linton S car¬ 
riage is waiting for me at the door; and gath¬ 
ering up her silken skirts she ran lightly down 
the stairs, leaving her husband to pass his 
evening alone, or follow her advice and seek 
amusement abroad. 
Never had Alice looked more radiantly beau¬ 
tiful than she did that night, and never had she 
received more attention. It may be that her 
conscience troubled her, and she was trying to 
drown its voice; at least, she was gayer than 
usual, anil hor vivacity and sparkling wit kept 
her constantly surrounded by an admiring 
circle. 
Late in the evening as she was sitting in a 
crimson-backed easy-chalr, languidly listening 
to the insipid talk of Mr. St. Cecil, one of her 
newest admirers, the hostess, came to her, say¬ 
ing that there was a boy below asking for Mrs. 
Dkew. Wondering what It could mean, Alice 
excused herself, and following Mrs. Hildreth, 
found a lit tle colored boy who went on errands 
for them sometimes. 
“What is the matter, TilEO?" sho asked in 
alarm. 
“ Bridget sent me to 'form you dat raassa 
Drew is sick, and she wished you’d come home 
’mediate," said the boy with alacrity. 
The hostess ordered a servant to bring out 
the carriage; and Alice, without waiting to 
bid her friends adieu, hurried on her outer 
wrappings, and was soon whirling swiftly away 
from t he scene of gayet y. 
Gilbert ill. perhaps dying! The thought 
struck terror to her heart, and in an agony ot 
self-reproach she remembered the unkind 
words she had spoken to him at parting. NN itb 
nice little fortune of our own, but we have 
wasted it—you by your extravagance, and I by 
dissipation. Had you been contented away 
from this accursed city we might. l>o happy now. 
But I will not lay all the blame on you. W e 
have both done wrong. It was the mistake or 
our lives that we ever ieit the old farm. As'it 
K I nm a drunken bloat, and you will txPio tter 
off without me. Good-bye, Alice. God knows 
I loved you once. gilbert. 
The worst had oome, at last, and with a lace 
white and rigid as a corpse, Alice staggered 
back to Mm sofa, and lay for a long time in a 
stale of unconsciousness. Rut the future must 
be met, and after the first shock was over, she 
roused herself and tried to answer the ques¬ 
tion, “ hou- V’ U was necessary that she should 
find something to do without delay, or she 
would be homeless and starving, and after 
several ineffectual attempts at something bet¬ 
ter, she was obliged to accept the only work 
that offered itself, and that was plain sewing 
that paid her but small returns, Hho hired a 
little room in a tenement house, and the strug¬ 
gle for daily bread began. It was a sad and 
desolate life sho led t hen. Him never went out 
except to the store for work, and she seldom 
spoke to any one but her employer, uuless it, 
was now and then a kind word to a beggai- 
chiUl. in hor room, at its one window that 
looked out or»*bare, bleak walls, she sat and 
sWtchod day after day, while her form grew 
thinner, her face paler, and hope died out of 
her heart. In this way the time passed on, and 
weeks lengthened Into months and months 
into years; still no tidings came of her absent 
husband. 
The third winter that came to Alice in her 
humble homo seemed to her colder and drearier 
than any that had passed before. The long 
confinement began to toll upon her health, and 
at last she was really ill. She had never been 
able to earn anything more than was necessary 
for her dally expenses ; and now, with the pros¬ 
pect of sick ness staring her in the face, she 
often shuddered u* she thought what the fu 
Whitt-nine lips »!.. Mnt up to H«vo„ ,, »llo„t S’E'^.n.to Mtorbor On. moral.* 
prnyor .hot ho would llv., that S l»ml S h thnvo “““"Ho work,.!,. ,U,U, e by l, OT 
space to ask his forgiveness and atone fur hei * thinking of all these things. The 
hirorllcs* ..on, 1u«. when 1m J”” eZorrS.at h.u l“ . ed he . the,, year. 
if denied them, Gilbert indulged her In every¬ 
thing that he could possibly afford ; but his sal- 
girl, who said, in answer to her anxious inqui¬ 
ries, that her master was better and was sleep¬ 
ing then. lie wont out, she said, immediately 
after her mistress, and came home about an 
hour before, looking very strange, and not ap¬ 
pearing in the least. like himscll'. Two mon 
came wit h Him, but when dm asked them to go 
for the doctor they said “ it was nothing -he 
would ho all right in the morning.” But she 
was frightened, and so sent for her mistress. 
Alice wont to the room where her husband 
was, and found him lying on the sofa, appa¬ 
rently asleep. Going up to him she laid her 
hand upon his face and tried to rouse him. lie 
looked up at her with a stupid staro, and, foi 
the first time in his llfo answered her harshly 
and unkindly. She had not the least suspicion 
of the truth, aud thinking that his mind must 
be wandering talked to him tenderly and sooth¬ 
ingly, but he answered only with bitter, taunt¬ 
ing words, aud by-aml-by his breath came to 
her, tainted with the fumes of strong drink. 
Then, suddenly, the truth Hashed to her mind. 
Her husband was drunk! Drunk! he whose 
life had always been a model of uprightness, 
and upon whose purity she would have staked 
her soul! What an ending for her night of 
pleasure! She was not a heartless woman, and 
in spite of all her waywardness she truly loved 
her husband. For months she had been beside 
herself with vanity and excitement, aud the 
desire lor admiration und homage lead over¬ 
come every oilier consideration. But that 
night, as she saw her husband lying there in 
Ills degradation, and realized that this was the 
harvest of her own sowing, her eyes were oom- 
grew morbid aud unhappy, and the home that 
bad blossomed with the flowers of love and 
peace lost its char in for both of them. 
t’otning home one night about a year after 
their removal to the city, Gilbert went up to 
his wife’s room and found her before the mir¬ 
ror, giving the finishing touches to an elegant 
toilet. She looked very lovely standing there 
in her robe of azure silk, with its overdress of 
, ace CMteht u „ here and there with silver downward. There was a sei ex 
~ |>. lt ^0 sight of her beauty excited lows who had been trying to induce him u 
f„ ^ her bu»L°l'. U.,,r,. ami with a j„,„ II,d' muntar. a bavin,- once goth™ 
1 ... - the sound of under their Influence, they did not «iv« him up. 
influences t hat had held nor m tman, nnv 
generous arid ready to see and own liet faults, 
and shudderingly she admitted to herself that 
her own discontent and wrong-doing, and that 
alone had been the cause of her husband’s 
downfall. Back and forth across her chamber 
she paced, sick at heart with the destiny she 
had brought upon herself. 
From that night Gilbert Drew’s course was 
downward. There was a set of dissipated fel¬ 
lows who had been trying to induce him to 
memory that hau haunted her all these years 
came to her then- the memory of the first three 
years of her married life, that had boon so 
bright and happy, Hhe thought of the pleasant 
home she bad then enjoyed, with its cosy 
rooms, well-laden tallies and generous fires,— 
but more than till else she thought of the rich 
love that had crowned her. “ If I had back my 
home and my husband I should know how to 
pri/.o them now," aho murmured; “but I am 
so lonely and miserable here." 
A tempos, t*of tears and sobs shook her slight 
form, and slipping from her chair down upon 
her knees, she prayed to her Heavenly Father 
for patience and submission, just as she had 
done so many times in these later years. While 
she knelt I hem the door opened, but sho was 
not conscious of any presence save her own in 
the room, till some one knelt by her side, and 
a voice quivering with em lion spoke her name. 
Sho looked up quickly then, and met the face 
of hor husband- not an she remembered having 
last seen It, bloated and red with the effects of 
strong drink, hut tender, refined and loving as 
it had boon live years before. 
“Thank God! —Thank God!" only those 
words and she was folded to her husband s 
heart , and her tired soul, forgetting its desola¬ 
tion, drifted back to the haven of rest once 
more. 
Later, when they were calm, lie told bow he 
had fought with the tempter in the years since 
they had been parted, and how he had come 
back then, master of himself, to ask her to 
begin life anew w th him. 
“Let us go back," said Alice, “to our old 
home. We shall be happier there." 
go they went back as she wished, and rented 
the farm they had once owned, and began at 
the foot of the ladder. But they had content¬ 
ment. tu. their hearts, and with that even pov¬ 
erty is sweet. 
Many years have passed since then, and Gil¬ 
bert is n fine, hale old gentleman, and Alice 
a happy matron, the mother of noble sons 
and blooming daughters. Years of labor have 
brought them prosperit y, and the home of their 
ancestors is theirs once more; and there they 
will psss the remainder of their days, both of 
’ them perfectly satisfied with their one experi¬ 
ment at “ Leaving the Farm.” 
keen pang lie thought how once 
his footsteps had, brought her to meet him with 
welcoming kisses and fond words. 
“Are you going out again to-night, Alice t 
he asked, sadly. ... 
“Yes; this is the evening of Mrs. Hildreth s 
reception, and I could not think of staying 
away See. isn’t my now dress becoming?" she 
asked turning to him with an animated face. 
“Yes, Alice, you look very lovely, but you 
used to look better to me in a shilling calico 
than you do to-night in all your finery. Oh, 
how happy we were in our old home! It seems 
to me that if we were back there nr w, just as 
we used to be, I should be the happiest man 
alive." 
“How can you be so absurd?” said Alice, 
almost iu anger. “ I thought you were getting 
over those foolish notions. You have been out 
lately more than usual, and I did hope you had 
given up moping and would try and enjoy 
yourself.” 
SPAEKS AND 8P LINTEE3. 
Whenever he appeared in the street t hey were Wuy <ioes .■ „j r ] „f t ho period" make the 
constantly meeting him and inviting,him into housekeeper; Because she makes so much 
drinking saloons and holding the tempting cup bustle a bout a lit tle w aist, 
to his lips. And he heeded tiMmandJna .tern leanest man in the world lives in Chi- 
short months foil front ins high• PJ* 1 [ ™ 'V''"’ cago . H c stale his wife’s false teeth, and then 
down to the level of a common druuterd. It eag. £ account of her “ physical de- 
was Alice Rturn to watch aud watt now, ana l 
what long, lonely vigils she kept. She went no • dcaJer in gtate street has in h ls 
more into society, and the calls or her iasb i o - wln(k)W ,, 8enttmen tal song marked: - “Thou 
able friends w-ere vmreUirncd and the Invit ^ tovc(1 me an d left me, for twenty-five 
tions they sent her declined, till in a short tune „ 
■ they left her to herself, sho grew wan and ' facetious Eastern Grocer announces on a 
hollow-eyed, and none can know how much of at tho do or, “ A fresh invoice of choice 
agony end remorse she suffered. Still sho I he reives a new lot of smoked 
never complained, but, feeling that her suffer- 
incswerc merited, she grew patient in her grief tongues. 
« The adage, “of two evils choose the least,’ 
a *Finally, ”or two whole days Gilbert was is helpful when the judgment is equal to a 
absent from home : then there came to Alice choice, but what is to be done w he 
a letter directed in his hand-w riting. With lies between fleas and mosquitoes i 
trembling hands she bunko tho seal and read: There is a man In Troy; who c 
treimmug nou.ua about a year aj/o w.ithout expendin 
“Alice:—I have left the city, and jouwill a , lTer tteing. He has at last conser. 
nvnViahlv nPYttr 1116 again. '*6 arc \ 1: . . Cilw-u/1 rr»7»Fiapm(>nt U’JHihp 
choice, but wbat is to be done when the choice 
ment. I c 
lonesome 
I There is a man in Troy who did business 
about a year ago w.ithout expending a dollar tn 
advertising. He has at last consented to adver¬ 
tise. His first, advertisement w as headed olier- 
1 ift’s Sale.” 
