©ORE’S RURAL MEW-YORKER, 
WHY1 
BY ROSE OEKANirjI. 
I siNG'because the sky ami air. 
Wood, vale and bloom n song have brought mo; 
Because a song is everywhere - 
1 slug because the birds have taught me. 
As if my bosom were n lyre 
Swept o’er bv unseen, angel Ungers, 
Too soon the sw eeteel scrams expire, 
But on my lips the echo lingers. 
And If my notes shall roach a soul 
Amt lilt it int-o higher fooling, 
ghat I rift n dart thro - sorrow’s scroll, 
Tim noly light of peace revealing,— 
(Wo do not praise tho day for light, 
We do not bless the bills for beauty, 
But bead to Goo, who niakca them bright)— 
My songs are love, and love is duty. 
Then only think that T have, sung 
flow bright the earth for mr is glowing, 
And from my heart these notes have sprung 
Tjikc Incense front a lUy flowing. 
#ur jStfinr-Seller. 
MARTHA’S TWO LOVES; 
OR, THE WIFE’S HOME. 
TRANSLATED PROM T11E GERMAN OF MADAMJi 
WILDER MT7TTT, BY ANNE JAY. 
[Continued from page 66, last number.] 
CHAPTER XIII. 
I don’t know why it is that we have so much 
to do with winter days in our story. But I can¬ 
not help it; for it real¬ 
ly wa=. a dull, foggy, 
sunless day at the close 
a light g 1 e a ni e d e ' 
through a window. £ 
Tho shops were being ggjgj|il 
hastily closed; a few ” 
boys who had been 
playing In the light 
snow which lay on the 
sidewalk had left their 
dispiriting game and 
gone to their hotuos. 
Only one person, tight¬ 
ly buttoned up in his 
overcoat, strode has¬ 
tily down the street. 
Ho directed his bourse 
toward a light which 
gleamed from the win¬ 
dow of a neat little 
house, in a way es¬ 
pecially hospitable 
and inviting. Anyone 
gifted with a keen 
eyesight could see that 
a lady sat industrious¬ 
ly working by this 
light, and her stern 
husband, who direct¬ 
ed his way toward it 
through tho gloom, 
was already preparing 
a lecture for his diso¬ 
bedient wife, who 
contrary to his wish, 
would sew by lamp¬ 
light. His scolding did 
not promise to be very * 
sharp, though, if one 
might judge from tho 
way in which his 
glance brightened as 
he looked at the gleam 
and recalled the long 
years t tl’ loneliness 
now passed when no 
light, and no loving 
heart, awaited him, 
and no eyes beamed 
brighter for his com¬ 
ing : and he sent up a 
prayer of gratitude to 
God for the blessings 
which now were his. 
Just as he had reached 
his houses and was 
about to pull the bell, 
a boy rushod up to 
him in breathless 
haste, andpulling him 
energetically by the 
coat, gasped out: 
“Doctor, doctor, 
come quickly —as 
quickly as you oai>—to 
our house 1” 
The doctor recog¬ 
nized tho waiter of the 
principal inn in tho 
little town. 
“Well, what’s the 
matter i" asked the 
doctor, just at this 
ra o m e n t not very 
much interested in , 
the reply. 
“ A nobleman — a 
very’ grand one — a 
count, or a prince, or 
a duke—has stopped 
at our house, A gen¬ 
tleman traveling with 
him, a prince, too, he 
roust be, fell, la get- A" vi 
ting out of the carriage, and broke his arm. 
Do, sir, come quickly 1” 
Without waiting for further questioning, the 
doctor gave the boll a sudden pull, merely greet¬ 
ed his wife hastily iu passing, hardly noticed 
the children, and went, out again with liis box 
of instruments; culling out to the servant as 
lie left where he was tu bo found, liis young 
wife had sat alone, waltlug for him for two 
hours or more. Sundry little delicacies with 
which she intended to surprise him wore daint¬ 
ily arranged on a little table beside a sofa. His 
dressing gown and smoking cap lay on tho arm¬ 
chair. and Ids slippers were toasting in front 
of the lire—all ready * waiting to give him a 
warm reception after the long, cold walk whlcli 
he had had to a neighboring village. 
The children, too, had various surprises in 
waiting for him. Alfred, the oldest son, had 
an approving “ laudo " written by Ids teacher 
in red ink under his theme. The five-year-old, 
Dorothea, had finished' her first stocking. 
Little Annie, who would not be left In the 
lurch, proclaimed that she had made a fine 
coach on her slate for her father; and Wil¬ 
liam, the least of them all, had taken his first 
step alone to-dny. 
But now all this preparation was thrown 
away. Sighing. Martha set the little feast 
aside, put tho children to bed, and tried to per¬ 
suade the little glr's that tlieir surprises could 
he shown just as well to-morrow morning. 
Alfred, with his “laudo," was the most dis¬ 
satisfied. arid murmured aloud: 
“ It is not right in father to pass us by, with¬ 
out noticing us, when we wished to give him 
pleasure, too 1" 
“ Father thinks (lrat of his duty,” said tho 
mother, by way of consoling herself, as well as 
her boy. “ ft is his greatest pleasure to be with 
us, but he eujoys it most when bo has attended 
cheerful room, it is indeed our old friend Dr. 
Hnchblmaikk, and he seems to have grown 
younger in tho twelve years which have elapsed 
since wo last saw him. Notwithstanding the 
wrinkles on liis brow, an expression of con¬ 
tentment marks Ida features, winch was not 
to liis duties. This is why papa is much more j there iu times past—the witness to homo hap 
thought of by high and low than ninny people . pi ness. • 
of more distinguished position, because ho is 
always so faithful in liis attcntiufi to what is 
intrusted to his charge, and never thinks of 
himself. When you arc older,” she said, with 
moistened eyes, “you will appreciate bettor 
tho benefit which your father’s honorable name 
will be to you. Now, little mice, go to bed. Wo 
will show papa the stocking and pretty picture 
at breakfast to-morrow; big Alfred can sit 
up a little longer, if ho will bcbuvo very well." 
So mamma at length succeeded In pacifying 
the little folk with her earnest talk. The maid, 
who had gone out on a roconuolsauce, brought 
news of tho arrival of a nobleman at the inn; 
and <>r his traveling companion having hap¬ 
pened to an accident—broken his hand, it was 
said. This companion was also a very distin¬ 
guished person, she had heard—perhaps tho 
duke’s brother. 
Alfred was richly rewarded for his waiting, 
by tho anticipation of the wonderful things 
which papa would have to tell; and wowill not 
be sure that M artha did not, in imagination, 
see her husband adorned with an order as a 
reward for his valuable services. At last the 
door-bell rang again, and this time, unhindered 
by any on welcome messenger, the doctor, very 
cold and tired, joined his wife in the warm, 
laxr central new york> 
i.!"young lady taking her first lesson in Seating, guided toy two experts* 
Upon his young wife, who greets him with a 
loving kiss, and whom wo have already recog¬ 
nized as Martha, tile rosy-cheeked Martha, 
wc cannot say that the twelve years have not 
left their traces. Her form is still slender, but 
not With the slenderness of girlhood, and It 
seldom chances now that people address her 
as “Miss," and mistake the doctor for her 
father, which occurred often In tho first years 
of their married life, very much to her amuse¬ 
ment. Now tho rich color iu the cheeks, which 
had been formerly almost too deep, was soft¬ 
ened to a delicate rose-tint, and the laughing 
eyes had gotten a softer, deeper light; in short, 
if tho twelve years as they passed had taken 
with them part of her youth, one was tempted 
to think that, limy hud added to her beauty. 
While we have been occupied with our de¬ 
scription, tho doctor hits donned his dressing- 
gown and smoking-cap, and Is now snugly en¬ 
sconced In his special m) fa corner. Only the 
slippers are neglected—a sign that he must go 
out again. The doctor had his family In too 
good training for any member or it to think of 
questioning him when weary. Martha was 
too obedient to express her curiosity by a look 
oven. Poor Alfred's self-control was by no 
means so perfect. Though hia lips did not 
move, still his entire 
face was one big inter- 
^_ rogation mark. Wtth 
the promptitude ©i a 
before him with 
single word of the Im¬ 
pending communica¬ 
tion, till oven tho 
grave pre-occupation 
of his father was 
changed to a hearty 
laugh. 
At length everything 
was arranged, and the 
busy housewife sat 
qUlet-Ty beside her hus¬ 
band, after placing his 
plate <»r soup before 
him. A t this Btago of 
the proceedings ques¬ 
tions became admis¬ 
sible, so slje snid :— 
“ What patient has 
kept ypu out so late ?” 
“The Secretary, 
llofrath, or whatever 
ho may be, of the 
reigning Prince of 
Blberstoin- Kaiilen- 
ecic-Beroheim, who 
was traveling with the 
Prince, and who has 
broken Ids hand.” 
“ is it anything seri¬ 
ous l” 
“ Not dangerous, but 
tedious. The patient 
is very restless and 
vexed aC the idea of 
remaining here for 
weeks instead of ac¬ 
companying his High¬ 
ness to Italy. I. must 
see him again after 
supper. Mis Highness 
has gone on already, 
though ho feels the 
misfortune of his 
faithful attendant 
deeply ; hut to pass a 
night here! Besides, 
has ho not recom¬ 
mended the patient to 
my most careful at¬ 
tention ?” 
They continued con¬ 
versing together upon 
the subject of the ac¬ 
cident. At length 
Alfred found an op¬ 
portunity to show his 
“ laudo,” and went off 
to bed very proud and 
happy at his father’s 
praises. 
Martha was still 
tip, and sitting beside 
j| the lamp which had 
burnt quit 0 low, be¬ 
nding sleepily over a 
book, when her hus¬ 
band returned. 
“ Do you know who 
the prince’s llofrath 
is?” asked he, as he 
kissed tier. 
“No; how should 
l?” 
“ He is named Fel- 
ben,” said the doctor, 
slowly, “ and is an old 
acquaintance." 
A deep blush spread 
eptSL oyer Martha’s fuoe. 
