338 
MOORE’S RURAL WEW-YORKER 
CLOUDS. 
I thought Emma would not be so silly her- 
L'p, away up. In the deep blue sky. 
TU« fleecy cloud? sail slowly by, 
And 1. a mortal, far below, 
Walk slowly, sadly, to aod fro. 
Oh clouds so soft, and tipped with gold, 
Would that your mist might me enfold, 
And bear me up to the sky so blue, 
Where naught Is false, where all Is true. 
My heart t» sore with a weary pain, 
A pain that comes, and comes again. 
This earth In tickle. Is false, ts wrong. 
And nothlDg of happiness dwells here long. 
You are so peaceful, clouds, up there. 
With never a thought pf t oll or ca j‘ e - 
The glorious sun can make you bright, 
But It cannot make a sad heart light. 
Sometimes up In the sky ) see 
A cloud which comes on rapidly, 
Barge, and larger still, at last 
It hursts, and the heavy drops fall fast. 
Is not my heart like the dark, dark cloud? 
Throhhtng with pain, and murmuring loud. 
Till at last the harrier of pride gives way. 
And the gathering tears have found full sway. 
But when the cloud has passed In rain, 
The glorious sun shines forth again. 
K en so my heart, with its lightened grief. 
In the sun of " hope," And* sweet relief. 
Move on, ye clouds, now white and soft. 
Now golden-tipped, or purple oft. 
Ye moving masses of fleece and gold. 
I love your beauties to behold. 
Far above noo, still floating hy, 
Up, far up, In the n»ure sky, 
I fain would bid ye come down to me. 
Bright clouds. I would rest, me dreamfully 
On your bright pinions, and soar above 
To the world of truth, and the world of love, 
j)o wlilte-robed angels ride with you. 
Oh fleecy clouds, in the heavens blue ? 
ur ,ptor!i-®cU^. 
BESSIE’S THANKSGIVING. 
“Mamma," said little Besshk Winton, “we 
m e going to have three holidays." 
“Indeed!" returned her mother, vv i tiering 
somewhat that Bessie should be so quiet over 
it. “ How happens that V" 
•• why, you see, day after to-morrow vi.l oe 
Thanksgiving, and us we have Saturday, . n>- 
way, I suppose Miw» Wentworth thinks wo 
may as well have Friday, too.” 
“ Well, child, are you sorry?” 
“ No, 1 do not know that I am. I do not think 
T cave much about it, either way. I would as 
lief go to school as to play " 
Now, perhaps you think little Bessie was 
very fond of her teacher, her playmnt.es and 
her book?. Bui 1 am sorry to say that the tone I 
in which she spoke these words Implied-not a 
fondness for these, but,-simply an indifference 
towards her play. Her mother observed as 
much, for she had not been slow to see the 
spirit of discontent which had lately come to 
take possession of her little daughters heart, 
and very deeply did she regret it. 
No mat tor how Interesting the game of play 
in which Bessie engaged, she soon grew tired 
of it 1 f alone, she was dissatisfied because she 
had no one to play with her. ir playing with 
others, she fancied every one was trying to 
slight her, and that each one had a belter place 
i„ the game than she. So it naturally came to 
So it naturally came to 
“I think it was very kind in her," returned n< 
Bessie, quickly. “'Emma Is always kind to cl 
everybody. Bhe brings lovely flowers from 
their conservatory and gives to Miss Went- tn 
worth. And she has brought loads of grapes hi 
for her, and for the girls, too. As for that mat¬ 
ter, she has brought fruits of all kinds this bl 
whole summer.” 
“ I presume Emma Is very kind. She may be 
like her mother, who lives to do good." b' 
“I should think she might be kind," said u 
Bessie, now ready for opposition. “Anybody 
might be who had everything that money could 
buy. She will have enough to tell Miss Went¬ 
worth about.” 
“ By the way, E ESSIE, with what are you going 
to begin your list ? You may as well be think- k 
I’m sure 1 don't know. 1 don't think I shall 11 
try to make out. any. I should be ashamed to 
give only one or two blessings. I can’t think “ 
of a single one, now.” 1 
“ Then I suppose you would as lief live in the 
island of Papua as here ?” 
BESSIE laughed a little, although she had de- %< 
termlned to make a very serious matter of her p 
many deprivations. 
“ How Is it, Bessie,” continued Mrs. Winton, 1 
“ do you think you would willingly go there to v 
live?” 
“ Of course not," and the corners of Bessie's * 
mouth would draw down, In spite of her on- J 
deavorsto look like a much-almsed specimen 
of humanity, and present, her case in its worst 
light, 1 
“ Then, can you not find a beginning for your | 
list in the Jfact that you were not born in That , 
benighted isle ?" J 
Bessie, remembering a picture she had once • 
seen of some native Papuans, uttered an ex¬ 
pression similar to one they maybe supposed < 
to use “Ugh!” 
“That is not answering tuy question, Bessie. 
1 wish you to write the heading to your list.” 
“Am I to write a Mat? Miss Wentworth 
only a«kcd us to tell her.” 
“You need not take the written list to school 
unless yon choose, but I should like you to write 
it for your own good, (let your paper, dear." 
Now t here was one thing in which Bessie 
took real satisfaction, and that was her pen¬ 
manship. Few children of her age could form 
letters more neatly than could alto, so it was 
with quite a pleasant expression t hat she seat¬ 
ed herself with pen and paper before her. 
"What shall I write?” asked she. 
“Bure enough, what will you? I am quite 
curious to see.” 
“ lint, really, ’ returned Bessie, petulantly, 
" I do not know what to say." 
“ First of all with ‘ Blessings for which I ought 
to feel thankful.’ Perhaps, by-and-by, you can 
erase the words * ought, to.'" 
Bessie colored, but. she wrote the sentence ns 
her mother gave it. “ Will that do ?” asked she, 
as she displayed her neat execution. 
*• Very nicely, indeed. Now write your first 
blessing, and then you may go down town with 
me. 1 must purchase some new flannels, for It 
is quite time for you to get on thicker ones.” 
Going down t own was a great treat to Bessie. 
They lived in the suburbs of the city, and she 
was never allowed to go “ down among the 
* stores." as she expressed it. without being ac- 
’ companied by some grown person. So she now 
eagerly set herself to work, 
r .. 11 ,,'you think I had better write that I ought 
I to be thankful I live in America?” 
c “If you like. But tell me, first, which you 
II would prefer, England or Papua ?” 
0 “ why, England, to be sure.” 
0 “Why tliat?" 
O ** Because it is a civilized country. Oh, now 
“ why don’t you take them off ? A ou do not 
think you would miss them, do you ? A ou arc 
no better off with your warm shoes than those 
children are in their little bare feet, are you .- 
Bessie understood now. "I see what you 
mean, mamma. I will not forgot to write this 
blessing down.” „ 
“ Are you sure warm clothing Is one of the 
blessing? for which you ought to be I hankful?" 
“Quite sure, momma,” said Bessie, firmly. ^ 
“ What n re you going to do with those books < 
presently asked Bessie, for the first time no¬ 
ticing her mot her was carrying some. 
“Take one to a boy named Albert, and one 
to a girl named Lizzie. 
“ Let me carry ihern for you." 
Mrs. Winton handed them in silence. 
“ Why. these are T.nmt’s. Are you going to 
give them away?” , , 
“No, only going to lend them. And this Is 
the house where AL,HURT lives. 
“ What dark halls,” said Bessie, as her mother 
led the way up stairs. “ Why, are you going up 
higher?" continued she, its they began to ascend 
a second flight. 
“Yes, Just these.” 
Mrs Winton lightly knocked, and the door 
w's qoiekly opened by a fac « 
Sabbath 
CONSECRATED BY CHRIST. 
8 v sleep He consecrated sleep, 
And taught us how to lay our head, 
With trust, like his, divine and deep, 
In slumber on our nightly bed. 
By death He consecrated death. 
And made the grave a holy home. 
In which our flesh, the turf beneath. 
Shall rest In hope until He come. 
Resting, He consecrated rest. 
And bade us in His rest to dwell, 
As when, with weariness oppressed, 
He sat at noon on Bychar's well. 
Weeping. He consecrated tears, 
And showed the mourner how to weep; 
And yet the tear-slck eye He clears. 
Lest sorrow he too long and deep. 
Loving, He consecrated love. 
Lifting it out of human sin, 
Making it pure, like things above. 
And deepening the fount within. 
Another fam brightened a? they stepped into 
the room, ami Mrs. Winton, tnkuig Bessie bj 
the hand, led her across t he room to where A iy n 
HEIIT was sitting- V 
Mow fin vo*i fc«M. to-day t , 
“ Better, thank you," replied Albert, cheer- 
fl “‘v"ou see I have brought you a visitor. This a 
is my lit tic daughter, who is going down street , 
with rae^o lean *tay hut a few minute, ^ 
day 1 have brought you another book. Art 
lintohod 11» tat. yM-rdny.” , 
As for Bessie, she dropped Into the chair ( 
whh-h Ei.l.A brought to her. unable to speak 
one word. Never before had she beheld so 1 
pitiful an object as the poor, deformed boy, i 
who now sat before her. only the head which i 
Wf , s placed <>n this poor, misshapen bodv «?em- 
C(1 perfect. ALBERTS limbs were badly d s- 
totted, and Bessie saw. at a glance, that he 
could use neither his hands low In? teet, id 
strong and healthy children can. But the’face , 
an* ex pressh >iT of 3hing beyond mere con- | 
*'"m iNT^rN^ta'lked' with* the ISt-tlo 
for u few moments, and then, telling him she 
would Come again soon, led her little daughter 
d “(Vh l . mamma! Isn't It perfectly dreadfulV” 
cried lb sst e, as they reached the street. 
“ poor At.BERT! lie Is tweIve rears old, and 
vet he has never taken a step in Ids life. 
Bessie sighed. Then she looked up in her 
mother’s face. “I see, ia#mma. I know of 
v'cs, ili.ssn',"' said tier mother, smiling kind¬ 
ly on t he thoughtful little luce before her. 
'“ After all, 1 have something better than a 
carrlaee to ride out In. I have t wo- good feet 
to'carry me," and a real, live smile came Into 
where Lizzie lives,” presently 
* " This is quite a nice-looking little house. I 
hope no deformed children live here. 
Mrs. Winton said nothing, but as the door 
was opened she again took her iitl le daughter s 
l l ‘‘ Ah, Lizzie,” said she, when they had been 
shown into the room where the little^ invalid 
was sitting, " 1 am glad to see you up. 
A beautiful smile lighted up Lizzie s faee. 
and then she bent her head forward as if listen¬ 
ing to some sound which was new to her. 
“I brought in' little Bessie with me. said 
Mrs. Winton, placing her child s hand in that 
' f “VlESsic looked wonderingly id the closed 
eves, then seemed slowly to comprehend why 
it was they were not opened. And into hei 
really kind heart Ihere crept a tender nity for 
1 t tie little sightless one. For a moment her lips 
Ana ueepcn..i B . [IJovar. 
--— — 4 » »-- 
AN INTERESTING PAPER. 
Mr. Editor— IWir Sir: My father cut the 
following from a paper printed in Albion, Or¬ 
leans Co.. N. Y., some <0 yoRrs ago. Never hav¬ 
ing seen it in any other paper. I will send it to 
you Tora place in your column of " Religious 
Reading.—E mma S. i>., Albany Co., -Y. 1 . 
“ A description of the person of .1 eeus • hrist 
as it was found in an ancient manuscript sent 
by PUBLIUS LeRtUH.I'S, President of Judea, to 
the Senat e of Rome: 
“ ‘There lives at this time, in Judea, a man 
of singular character, whose name is Jesus 
Christ. The barbarians esteem him as their 
prophet; but his followers adore him as the 
iinmcdinte offspring or the immortal C.on. He 
Is endowed with such unparalleled virtue hs to 
cull back the dead from their graves, and to 
heal every kind of disease with a word or t ouch. 
His person Is tall ami elegantly shaped; his 
aspect amiable and reverent; his hair grows In 
thus, bond tends shade-which no united color 
can match, falling in graceful curls helow his 
ears, agreeably couching on his shoulders and 
parting on the crown of hi* head ; hi* dress of 
t he sect of Xazarites; his forehead is smooth 
and large ; his checks without either spot, save 
that of lovely red; his nose and mouth are 
formed with exquisite symmetrs ; his beard is 
t hick and suitable to the hair of lits head, reach- 
Inga little helow his chin, and parting In the 
middle like a fork; his eyes are bright, clear 
and serene. He rebuke# with mildness, and 
invites with the most tender, persuasive lan¬ 
guage ; his whole address, whether in word or 
deed being elegant, grave, and strictly charac¬ 
teristic of so exalted a being. No man has over 
seen him laugh; but the whole world beholds 
him weep frequently; nnd so persuasive are his 
tears, that the wlnde multitude cannot with¬ 
hold llieir tears from joining in sympathy with 
bint. He Is modest, temperate and wise. In 
short, whatever the phenomenon may turn out 
in the end. he seems at present to bo a tnan of 
excellent beauty and divine perfection#, every 
way surpassing men.’ " _ 
A SURE HELPER. 
How often wc say. In great anxiety, “Who 
shall roll us away the stone?" and when wo 
look again, behold “the stone is rolled away,” 
though it was very great. Every time God helps 
us out of a difficulty, we should return and give 
K lory to Him, and then go on our way with joy 
and fresh courage. We should Often review 
the circumstances, and sec how God was at 
work for us, maybe in distant places, at the 
very time of our trouble ; bow He wasordeiiug 
events and disposing of men*- wills, so as to 
bring us just the help we needed. It. is un- 
I Christian to call these occurrences “chance" 
or “ good luck.” “All our steps are numbered.” 
Let us learn to see God’s hand in all that befalls 
us. An old man who had been long engaged in 
business said, “I have had my up# and downs, 
but as 1 review my life, those things which I 
thought, at the time, most against ine have 
proved the best for meeventemporally, besides 
teaching me submission to Him who rules the 
world.”— Sumla-tf-School World. 
pass that the girls became tired of trying to j kfiOW wha t, I’ll write. I'll say I am glad I was 
please her, and she was often left, quite by her- born j a a civilized country.,’ 
, > i.i„ n iloor 9 Tcirf it. 
,s you growing more fond of your books ? 
asked Mrs. Winton, In reply to Bessie’s stat e- 
“ Oh, no i I shall never like books. But there s 
no fun in being poked up in this old house all 
day, so T may as well be in school.” 
Mrs. Winton took no notice of this remark, 
■old presently Bessie continued, in a still more 
discontented tone. “Miss Wentworth wants 
wc should think of all l he things we have to be 
thankful for, and tell her, to-morrow. I think 
that’s a queer thing to ask us.” 
"I; strikes me as being a very good question. 
It may put you all thipking.” 
“ i don’t think it. will take me long to tell 
mine. <>f course, girls like Emma Roberts 
have something to be thankful about. Her 
fattier is rich, and buys her everything she 
wants. She has horses to drive out whenever 
she likes, and a splendid bouse to live in, and 
plenty of servants to wait upon her. The day I 
went home with her she took me ail over their 
house, and there are thirty-four rooms in it.” 
“Ah!” thought Mrs. Winton, “that solves 
the mystery- It was just about that time Bes¬ 
sie began to grow discontented and unhappy.” 
Then she said, aloud. “Did you count them, 
Bessie?” 
“ Oh, no, indeed ! 1 was too busy looking at 
the elegant things. But 1 asked Emma how 
main there were, and that Nancy, who used 
to live at Aunt Belle’s, heard me. and when 
Emma said she was sure she did not know, 
Nancy said there were Just thirty-four.” 
"How came Emma to take you over the 
bouse? You surely did not ask her." 
“ No, ma’am ; Nasc v told her to take me.” 
ike But tell me. first, which you the little sightless one, lor a moment ner ups 
£: P ” ar 5 ;fe“tak« tne home, 
igland, to be sure. ami I’ll never be ungrateful any more! 
at?" ’ “ Mv little daughter is trying, to-day, to find 
■ it is a civilized country. Oh, now out her blessings,''said 
„ rawi«,«..«■ i — K 
......_Jvillzed country., has bestowed upon her, and 1 Hunk it will do 
“ And what besides civilized, dear? Isn’t it w K ood to recall some of them. ... 
.wSwE* w. «. «e»- •» 3- ' 
the form we choose t obiecl, you would never again forget to 
“I might add-'a free, Christian country. t i, im k Hon for one of His best blessings. 
. .i 0 v“ “ And haven't you Been anything in ycais. 
“ Yes that will express your meaning. And asked Bkwik, wto bad somewhat recovered 
now prepare yourself its quickly as possible. 1 ‘A ^ ., oor eyes have always been sightless: 
u Th pretty chill? so you must dress warmly.” an<l ^. though 1 have lived in this world fifteen 
After they had ridden several blocks In one co- 
car, Mrs. Winton changed to another. ceh e what it must he like to only imagine how 
“ Win , mamma, we have never been this wav , . look. Then she thought liow sad it must 
, , V... J o trrone one’s way about, pmded only by the 
never have, Bessie. 1 often come this «SSSS?9 
Presently Mrs. Winton motioned for the car 
to be stopped.” 
“Are we to get out here?” asked Bessie, un¬ 
able to conceal her surprise. 
y eSi Bessie,” replied her mother, quietly, 
adding, as they passed to the sidewalk, “ 1 wish 
to ..any « little jelly to some invalids.” 
Bessie, quite unconscious that she had been 
bn night here to learn one of those lessons which 
arc not found in books, walked along, chatting 
about the sights which were so new to her, when 
suddenly she came to a pause. 
“ O, mamma!” whispered stae, “see all those 
barefooted children. And just think how cold 
'it is I” , 
“ Suppose, Bessie, that as you do not care Tor 
your shoe? and stockings, you give them to one 
of those children." 
Bessie looked up in bewilderment. Among 
all these strange scenes, hud her own mother 
slipped away from her? 
"No. there she stood, apparently expecting 
her child would comply with the strange re- 
I quest. 
un to the Throne of Grace a little prayer of 
t hanksgiving. “ 1 will never forget again, said 
she. “1 do not believe that 1 have ever, before. 
In all uty life, thanked God that l can see. 
“Oh Miss Bessie! how could you help it. 
Inst to think of actually seeing everything 
around you ! Oh. I think l should thank Him 
'bessie had spoken tlie truth. She had never 
before thanked iter Heavenly Father for this 
rich gift. She was very quiet during the little 
shopping expedition, and she reached home 
with a heart so filled with grateful thoughts, 
she could hardly Stop to take her tea. a'l ans- 
ious was she to complete the list of hei blesa- 
G.eji. She sat over the papers long time ; then, I 
atf tremulous with happiness, she earned the 
list to her mother. , „ 
“ See. mamma, how many l have thought, of. 
Little Bessie had w ritten a goodly number. 
•i„d tears filled the fond mothers eves as she 
read tile closing sentences: ”t thunk God 
that I have so many kind friends, a pleasant 
school und a loving teacher, a good mother and 
father, good health, the Use oj all my senses, 
and atiiimsand other things to make me happy. 
When Bessie read her list at school, she was 
not ashamedol It.and herteacihereompllmeiit- 
ed her upon the views she took of tier Personal 
blessings. Having seen what she had to be 
thankful for, little BESSIE war aide to pass a 
“ Happy Thanksgiving.” 
HOW TO USE YOUR EXPERIENCE. 
Here is some good counsel from Mr. Spur¬ 
geon- concerning the duty of experience: 
When an experienced Christian merely uses 
his experience for his own comfort, or as a 
standard by which to judge his fellow-Chris- 
tians, or make use of it for velf-exaltatlon, as 
though he were Infinitely superior to the most 
zealous young men, such a man mars his talent, 
does mischief with it. and makes himself heav¬ 
ily respensible. 1 beseech yon who liaVe long 
walked in the way of godliness to use your ex- 
I perlence continually in your visitation of the 
sick, in your conversations with the poor, in 
your meetings with young beginners, in your 
dealings with backsliders ; l<;t your paths drop 
fatness; let the anointing God has given you 
full upon those who are round about you. 
--- 
There is no mail’s mind of so discordant ami 
jarring a temper, to which a tunable disposi¬ 
tion may not strike a harmony.— Sir Thomas 
Browne. 
