370 
MOOSE’S SURAL NEW-YORKER. 
“To-day is Wednesday ; It must be dispatched 
to-night.” 
“Oh, mamma, do you think it can possibly 
be too late, after all our hurrying? Half our 
pleasure in devising and preparing these 
Christmas souvenirs, ha9 been In thinking how 
opportunely they would arrive and bow happy 
everybody would be. i should like to see the 
tableau when the box is opened. Why could 1 
not go myself If there is the slightest doubt? 
Father could not go with me, 1 suppose, but he 
could telegraph to Charlie, and he would 
meet me at the train. It Is only twelve hours. 
Hear mamma, I wish that you would let me 
go.” 
Mrs. Themai.vb thought It hardly necessary, 
and made some slight objection, but when 
“ father" came home he Bcemcd rather to 
favor the plan, and a little persuasion from Ids 
pet, Nellie, obtained his full consent and co¬ 
operation. 
So the Christmas gifts received a place of 
honor In her traveling trunk ; articles of ward¬ 
robe were added, suited to a holiday visit to 
her sister, and that Indispensable appendage 
strapped and rolled Into the hall ready for her 
impromptu Journey. Neli.ik retired, full of 
Joyous anticipations for the morrow. 
In the morning she was up betimes, as one 
must needs be who would go from Rochester 
to New York by the Central Road. Laden with 
love-mess ages she departed for the station, 
where Mr. Tre.mai.nk, after having seen his 
daughter cosily bestowed In an easy chair of 
the drawing-room car, made It his first, errand 
to send a dispatch to his son-in-law In New 
York, desiring him to meet her at Forty-second 
street on the arrival of t he Hudson River even¬ 
ing train. 
No lighter heart could have been found in all 
the eastern-bound crowd thun that of Kleanou 
Tremaine, and one might look long and vain¬ 
ly for a lovelier face t han hers. As she entered 
the car, with her becoming black velvet suit, 
her dark, abundant hair, Just crowned by the 
most bewitching of plumed toques (a real 
Backus hat), her large brown eyes beaming 
with kindliness, and bur cheeks aglow with 
health and Joyousness, a cheery picture seemed 
to dawn upon the way-worn passengers, weary 
with days and nights of travel. Curious and 
admiring eyes were turned upon ner and abavv 
of collegians, going home for the holidays, 
questioned with frequent glances why a young 
lady so very pretty should be traveling without 
escort. 
But Eleanor, intent upon her generous mis¬ 
sion and pro-occupied with her own affairs, 
vouchsafed them small attention. i?bo was 
thinking of the glad surprise that would greet 
her advent in Fifteenth street— of Sophie's 
loving welcome and BUJBBBLT/s exuberant 
and demonstrative delight. Proudly she would 
unfold her treasures on Christmas Day, How 
nicely the lace shawl would match with 
Sophie's flounces, and there would be so many 
parties during the holiday's. It might be late 
when the train should get In, but Ciiarlie’8 
quick eyes would espy her the moment she ap¬ 
peared enth®platform. Perhaps Sophie and 
Bell would be with him- nothing more likely. 
Mamma, with prudent forethought, had pre¬ 
pared a tempting lunch-baskct to obviate the 
necessity of going into the crowd at a wayside 
restaurant , and pupa hud provided other solace 
to while away the hours — a new book and tlie 
latest, magazines. The wintry landscape, 
though less pleasant than when adorned with 
summer foliage and verdure, was still not des¬ 
titute of charms, and divided her attention 
with her books. Time flew on golden pinions 
as the train sped on. it was not till she reached 
Albany that Nellie began to be conscious of a 
sense of weariness, which the dodging in and 
out of tunnels and the rumbling between pal¬ 
isades of rocks on the Hudson River Road did 
not tend to diminish; and when, with heavy- 
tread, the train moved in berween the lines of 
twinkling city lights towards its destination, 
she could not disguise the truth t hat she felt 
exceedingly tired. 
The ears stopped, and hastily gathering up 
her small items of loose belongings—shawl, 
books and basket, she hurried to the platform. 
As she descended she gazed eagerly among the 
crowd for her brother; but only strange faces 
met her questioning eyes. What could have 
detained him? Surely he would come. Anx¬ 
iously she looked and waited, but still no 
Charlie, and thee olcurdefrae faded quite sud¬ 
denly from her bright day-dreams. Weary, dis¬ 
appointed and perplexed, she half regretted 
the enthusiasm that had prompted her hastily- 
planned journey. In her trouble how pleas¬ 
antly fell upon her ears a voice that said: 
“Might tills be the young lady that was ex¬ 
pected at Mr. Manners Miss Eleanor Tre¬ 
maine? 1 am the coachman, and huve the 
carriage just outside." 
lie then explained that the family was out of 
town for a few days. The telegram had been 
received at the Wall street office and sent up, 
to the house that the carriage might be in 
waiting when the young lady should arrive. 
To procure her baggage was but t he work of 
a moment, and n brief interval brought her to 
Fifteenth street. Lonely enough seemed the 
house without its cheerful inmates; but she 
was made quite comfortable by the servants, 
and determined to accept the situation as phil¬ 
osophically ns possible. Her sister's journey 
had been decided upon almost as hast ily ns her 
own. A friend In Springfield who had often 
urged a visit, had put in a claim that would 
admit of no refusal, and, with her husband and 
little Bell, she had gone to Join a Christmas 
party at his house, expecting to return on Sat¬ 
urday, but possibly not till Monday or even 
Tuesday evening. 
The bells rang merrily on Christmas morning, 
but Eleanor felt little inclination to go out. 
She could not quite be reconciled to the dreary 
contrast between the ideal and the real holi¬ 
day. How to write home and not disclose the 
story of her disappointments was a puzzle, but 
she Solved H by sending <1 telegram announcing 
her safe arrival. 
Saturday night came, and she felt almost 
sure that Soi*m e would come. Cook thought 
so too, and prepared a luxurious supper. The 
carriage waited till after the latest New Haven 
train, but came home as empty as It went. Sun¬ 
day was a lonely day, hut she beguiled the 
morning by going to church, where she was the 
sole representative of the house In the family 
pew ; and tbo evening sho spent pleasantly in 
the library, In companionship with those mut e 
friends in whose society the dullest may lind 
entertainment. 
Monday dawned brightly. It was a day of 
hope and Joyful anticipation. Sho busied ber- 
seir In making everything gay and cheerful for 
the coming of her sister. Fresh flowers re¬ 
placed the faded ones; easy chairs were moved 
into the most Inviting and picturesque posi¬ 
tions. Early lu the evening the parlors were 
illuminated, and Nellie, In her prettiest dress, 
eat listening for some sound ominous of her 
returning friends. At 8',4 a carriage stopped 
before the house, the bell rang hurriedly, and 
as the door was opened sho heard the exclama¬ 
tion : 
“Is It yourself, come home again? You’re 
welcome, Mr. Manners 1” 
Nellie rushed Impetuously to the vestibule, 
uud throwing her arms around the neck of the 
tall gentleman who was entering, she gave him 
a heart-warm kiss, crying : 
“Oh, Charles! you don’t know how glad I 
am to sec you! Where are Sophie and little 
Dell?’’ 
'the recipient of this effusive greeting, t hough 
too well-bred to betrav surprise, did not return 
It with the cmprejnsemenl that might have been 
expected from a brother. Nellie looked up. 
The bight and. figure were identical, the face 
very like, but-It was not Charlie ! 
There was a situation! “The gift of furn- 
seed to make one invisible," would have been 
a boon to Nellie at that, moment. The em¬ 
barrassment., however, was all on her side, for 
the new-comer was evidently rather pleased 
than otherwise, and quite inclined todnkeitas 
a matter of course. Laying aside his hat and 
overcoat, and disposing of them wit h the air of 
one perfectly at home, he walked Into the par¬ 
lor, saying: 
"1 am George Manners, and only ‘the 
nephew of my uncle;' but If you are, as T 
think. Miss Eleanor Tremaine, the sister of 
my good Aunt Sophie, I shall claim a very near 
relationship. A man who has been wandering 
over the world as long as I have, separated 
from all his kindred, is Inclined to make the 
most of them when he returns, and I Intend 
that every one of mine, both far and near, shall 
acknowledge me now thlit I am at home." 
Eleanor had often heard of him as a person 
of the highest culture and the noblestlinpulses 
and aspirations. Five years before, and shortly 
after the marriage* of her sister to Charles 
Manners, he had gone abroad. In l’arls, in 
France and St. Petersburg; far away In the 
wild passes of the “ frosty Caucasusin the 
rose-scented vales of Cashmere or lu the remote 
fastnesses of the Himalayas, he had been but 
seldom heard from, and bis return had been 
quite unannounced and unexpected. 
His conversation, sparkling with incident 
and abounding in the rarest information, was 
delightfully entertaining; but poor Nellie 
wits very silent. The memory of her miserable 
contretemps haunted her “like a presence.' 1 
and when he loft., with the assurance that he 
might be expected “ the following morning,” 
she could only resort to that “ universal pana¬ 
cea" of all troubled women, “a quiet cry" all 
by herself. 
However much Miss Eleanor Tremaine 
might fed it her duty to do penance and be 
miserable on account of her unlucky mistake, 
she was sufficiently restored to be able to ap¬ 
pear in a tasteful and becoming costume when, 
the next day, Mr. George M annerr came with 
a carriage nud pair of “ gallant grays" to take 
her out for an airing in Central Park. Nor 
could she find it in her heart! to be despondent 
under the influences of a most exhilarating 
atmosphere, and amid the brilliant panorama 
of gay equipages, that make this one of the 
most delightful of drives, und she was again 
her own sunny and cheerful self. Very charm¬ 
ing seemed her fresh, genuine nature to l er 
companion, after his long exile in strange 
lands, nor would it have been easy to guess 
which of the two young people most enjoyed 
the morning’s excursion. 
Mr. and Mrs. CharlesManners came home, 
arriving some hours earlier than they had been 
expected. The tableau may be more easily 
imagined than painted,when, at the door, they 
were met by Nellie Tremaine and George 
Manners. 
“ What I you, Nellie? and you, George? I 
am amazed!” and the comical surprise de¬ 
picted on their faces was most umus’ng to be¬ 
hold. Nellie, who had been supposed to be 
at home in Rochester, and George Manners, 
who, for aught that they had known, might 
I have been at that moment in Bagdad ! 
“This Is what may be called jolly,” said 
Ch a k lek M a NNSRH. 
“Dear Nellie, I am so glad to see you,” 
cried sister Sophie, clasping her In a loving 
embrace, while little Bell was jubilant with 
delight. 
When the shower of exclamations and the 
joyous excitement of a meet ing so unexpected 
had partially subsided, there was much to bt 
told, and many questions to be asked and an¬ 
swered. Sophie had a talent for narrative 
that would have been Invaluable to a tourist, 
and made the moat of the few Incidents of hoi 
brief visit. Nellie modestly explained th< 
motive of her hasty Journey and some of hei 
experience since leaving home, touching a.* 
lightly ns possible upon Its demgr< mens, and 
preserving, on one point In particular, a pru¬ 
dent reticence. 
George Manners listened with the liveliest 
Interest to the history of changes, adverse oi 
otherwise, that had befallen during his ab¬ 
sence of five years, and had many inquiries t< 
make of friends and relatives, of whom. In hb 
fitful and remote wanderings, he had heard 
little or nothing. When, after dinner, the 
happy party returned to the drawing-room, 
the Christmas gifts were introduced, Chahlei 
Manners donned bis handsome dressing- 
gown, S phie posed in graceful attitudes be¬ 
fore the mirrors, with the rich lace shawl 
draped around her, BLUEBELL proceeded tc 
invest LcrhOlf with the blue velvit. basque, 
with only the slight mistake of getting It oi 
back side before, and, with a doll on elthei 
arm, paraded up and down, greatly to her owl 
satisfaction. 
A ring was heard; voices and footsteps. 
Geougk Manners stepped into the hall, anc 
quickly returned with two men, bearing be¬ 
tween them a curious box, which he directed! 
them to set down. Applying a key, the lie. 
flew up, and ho proceeded to divest Hie coffei 
of its varied contents. Indian shawls, marvel¬ 
ous In color ami texture, Broussa silks, deli 
cate muslins, and gauzes from the Ferslai 
looms woven with flowers of silver, unset 
gems, and tissues heavy with embroidery in 
gold. These were for Aunt Sophie. For 
Uncle Charles there was a keen, Ucxibh 
Damascene blade, curious coins of every 
jnnd, gems of ancient art, and manuscript 
and relies of the early world, the value oi 
which could only be estimated by the virtuoso 
and connoisseur. 
Little Beli/S round arms and throat wore 
encircled by st rings of Orient pearls, but these 
were not to be compared, In her view, to the 
bird with plumage of various colored stones 
that could open its mouth and utter some 
strange Indian word. 
Nellie’s gift was only a casket of Persian 
Attar, precious, Indeed, but small by compar¬ 
ison with others. George Manners apolo¬ 
gized for this seeming part iality by saying that 
If he had known that be would have the hap¬ 
piness of meeting her he would have been 
better prepared, but. he added,—'* 1 have an¬ 
other gift, and n worthy one, but it can only lie 
bestowed conditionally. I will bring it up 
some day.” 
“ Fray tell us how it lias happened, George,” 
aaid Mr. Manners, “that you have descended 
upon us so suddenly, without warning or note 
of preparation?" 
“If Bluebell will come and sit upon my 
knee I will tell her a little story apropos of 
that,” he replied. 
At the magical word, story, liEi.Lepranginto 
his outstretched anns, fixing her dark eyes on 
his face ns he began the brief narration. 
“ I had in the East a friend, an Englishman. 
He had been already some years there before 1 
knew him. When he left home he took with 
him his fair young vrife and a little girl, their 
only child. Desiring to become thoroughly 
acquainted with Oriental learning, people, ami 
antiquities, he had marie a sort of home at 
Beirout—a place fav orable for that purpose 
oecausc of its delightful seeucry urnl the num¬ 
ber of European residents, many of them 
English. He took a villa without the walls, 
| with gardens of orange and lemon, and groves 
of mulberry and palm, where he surrounded 
himself with every attainable comfort and 
luxury, and here lie came after his long and 
toilsome journeys to rest ami prepare for new 
expeditions. Sometimes his wife was the 
companion of his excursions, but^moru fre¬ 
quently, when there were perils aiul fatigues 
to he endured, he left her at home with faith¬ 
ful servants and under the protecting care of 
English friends. At one lime she was not 
quite wdl, and a tour was planned to Baal hoc 
and the cool recesses of Mount Lebanon, 
where it was hoped that the pure. Invigorating 
air would inspire her with new life. 
“ Returning from a visit to the grove of Ce¬ 
dars, the appient ‘Cedars of Lebanon,' of 
which wc read iu the best of books, she sud¬ 
denly became very ill at Eden. There, in the 
castle of the Bheiek, she died, and in the sol¬ 
emn silence of the everlasting hills the gentle 
English woman found a grave. 
“The child had been left in the rare of the 
English Consul’s family at Beirout. Nearly 
heartbroken, and utterly perplexed to know 
what to do with the tender and fragile little 
one, he esteemed himself highly favored in 
beiug able to find for her a safe and kindly 
home with the American missionaries at Bel- 
rout. Leaving her under tho protection of 
these most worthy and excellent people, he 
prepared to seek in wild and perilous adven¬ 
tures some solace and * surcease of sorrow.’ 
Disguised In Bedouin garb, wo made together 
the pilgrimage to Mecca, by way of the desert 
and the Red Sen. We kissed the black stone 
of the Caaba and drank of the well Zcmzctn, 
earning as fairly the title of hadji as any true 
believer of thom all. Returning after many 
weeks of danger and fatigue, utterly way-worn 
ami prostrated, two dusty pilgrims paused, one 
quiet Syrian evening, on an eminence over¬ 
looking the city of Beirout. Before us slept 
Mr; town amid its gardens of pomegranates 
and its groves of olives, and beyond the silent 
jea. Anstruthek was the first, to speak. 
“ * Manners,’ he said, 1 1 feel a strange and 
unaccountable depression to-night. You 
know mo well enough to believe that I am 
not likely to yield to weakness. Perhaps to¬ 
morrow, when I aru rested, I shall forget it all, 
and this is why I toll you now. There is a 
possible contingency that has often troubled 
me, when lying in my tent at night, the un¬ 
measured waste of sand about, ino und tho 
mysterious starry vault above—mark, I say 
possible, not probable—but for which I ought to 
provide. I have In England u dear father and 
mother, and here, a delicate, solitary child. 
She ought to be with them to receive such 
nurture and education os Is fitting, i mean 
soon to make thb voyage to England for this 
purpose. Now, I want your promise that, if 
any adverse circumstance should deprive me 
)f the power to do as I intend, you will re¬ 
ligiously perform for me that great kindness, 
i do not stop to ask If it would be testing your 
friendship too severely; I have known you 
long and well, and I believe in you.’ 
I gave the promise lightly, with no appre¬ 
hension of being called upon to perform it. 
With AuSTrtRTHEK I word to see the child, a 
lovely, flaxen-headed girt, lit only for love and 
petting, and but III suited for the vicissitudes 
of a life so far from friends and kindred. 
AuStkutitbr dkl not recuperate as I had 
hoped. I watched him faithfully, but vainly 
He too sleeps‘the sleep that knows no wak¬ 
ing,'in a far country. 
The English consul discharged his duties 
promptly and conscienclously, but for mo re¬ 
mained the work of fulfilling the promise I 
had made to my dead friend. 
In tho first homeward-bound vessel, I sailed 
wit h Alice A it ht r ut her and her Syrian nurse. 
Fortunately, she was able to bear the fatigues 
of the voyage, and I had the inexpressible hap¬ 
piness of restoring to those aged and bereaved 
parents this precious legacy from their only 
son. In the grateful blessings of those good 
people I have found a reward for every incon¬ 
venience to myself that might well satisfy a 
Tar more exacting nature than mine. That I 
should wish to proceed to my own country 
when so near was but natural. Some day I 
have promised to goto England to sec my pro¬ 
tege and her friends. What do you say, my 
little Bluebell, will you go with me ?” 
“Oh! Cousin George, I will love you always 
for being so good to that little girl. I want to 
see her. Can't I go to-morrow, mamma?” 
“I think it is to-morrow already,''said Cou¬ 
sin George, looking at his watch, “ and I must 
say good night, and aurevoir.” 
The holidays passed gaily with tho ladies in 
Fifteenth street.. Receptions, parties, and tho 
opera leave little time Tor dullness in the city 
at this season. Charles Manners was much 
engaged in business, and George was but too 
happy to be l lie most devoted cavalier. Nel¬ 
lie had ample opportunities to see that no 
more elegant man frequented New-York socie¬ 
ty ; while his Ideal Of content had come to be 
a house as well-ordered as that of his Uncle 
Charles ; a wife «« true and trusty as Aunt 
Sophia, and every day grew the conviction 
that Eleanor Tremaine would bo the fittest 
colleague to help him to that happy consum¬ 
mation. The passion for adventure had given 
place to t.he des're of settling quietly upon his 
astute, and his first wish was to become a prac¬ 
tical man, and useful citizen. 
Nellie's father came to take her home, and 
the friends who bade her good-by at the 
station might have seen upon the first finger 
of her left hand a gem of extraordinary size 
and beauty. It was the gift with a condition , 
of which George Manners had spoken. What 
the condition had been may be inferred, when 
it is known that, this gift of tin? ring was deemed 
“confirmation strong” of some late rumors 
that Miss Eleanor Tremaine was soon to re¬ 
turn to New-York. 
Not till she was once more at home did N el- 
lie receive the Christinas gift which the loving 
providence of Charles find Sophia had pre¬ 
pared and dispatched by express before going 
to Bpringlleid, and which had passed her on 
her way to Nu\v-York. It was a watch, a tiny 
bijou,enameled, wid circled with pearls. For 
motherthers had been a sable cloak, anil a 
More Bible for Mr. Tremaine. 
It Is not always to be believed when a young 
lady wins a wealthy husband that the highest 
good has been attained. But In George Man¬ 
ners were combined so nany admirable quali¬ 
ties, so much that was noble and truly good, 
that Nellie's future see Died to possess a guar¬ 
antee for permanent and substantial happi¬ 
ness rarely found in this life of vanishing 
bubbles and ever-fading illusions. So that, 
though her holiday seemed at first to be over¬ 
oast with clouds, we may at its conclusion 
aptly quote tho adage, “ All’s well that ends 
well.” 
•---- 
Love as if you should hereafter hate, and 
1 hate as if you should hereafter love.— ChiV). 
