rh 
MOORE’S RURAL WEW-YORKER. 
34 
tween the uncle and niece. They rode and 
walked together constantly, and Mary, who, 
between her father’s daily absence at h‘s office 
and her mother's ill health, had not known 
what It was to have any one much older than 
herself to look up to, felt the value of such a 
man as Mr. Littleton to converse with on many 
subjects that were beginning to dawn In her 
mind. 
But the time was drawing near for his depart¬ 
ure. He was going to take temporary clerical 
duty in l he South. For the first time for some 
years his medical attendants pronounced that 
ho might do so, and he was eager to bo employ¬ 
ed again. 
“ I shall miss you sadly, uncle," said Mary, as 
they were walking together a day or two before 
he left, “you have done me so much good. T 
feel as if only a few days had passed since you 
came, Instead of nearly three weeks. I wish 
you oould live here always." 
“That would bean kilo life forme, Mary; I 
am longing t o be at work again now that God 
has mercifully restored my health.” 
“And yours Is such a high and noble calling, 
uncle, I could envy you. A woman’s lot seems 
inglorious compared to such a one as yours." 
“And yet, Mary, a woman's lot is far from 
being an inglorious or contemptible one if she 
strives by God’s help to do her duty In It. Her 
influence muy be very vast over those around 
her. You, especially, my dear niece, owing to 
circumstances, have much tesposlbility thrown 
upon you, and in most respects 1 rejoice to see 
how much you seem to feel this. Your parents 
feel you a great comfort to thorn, 1 know." 
Mary looked and felt gratified by her uncle's 
commendation. She secretly prided herself on 
this point, viz., the fulfillment oi her duties as 
the eldest of the family. Sin; was accustomed 
to bear herself praised not only by her parents 
but by friends who lived near. In short, with¬ 
out being aware of it, Mary had a very good 
opinion of herself. She was therefore rather 
taken by surprise when her uncle raided— 
“But, my dear niece, there is one point on 
which it seems to me you overlook a very strong 
duty; will you bear with me if I venture to 
mention something that gives me considerable 
pain ?" 
Mary opened her blue eyes with surprise, and 
her uncle continued“ I allude to the manner 
in which it acorns to rno you all regard Mrs. 
Lorrimer. Although quite a lady, and an ac¬ 
complished one, who is laboring to do her best 
in t he hard task of education, I cannot but see 
that her life passes or. day by day solitary, 
cheerless and uncared for, except by little 
Flora, who as she grows older will perhaps fol¬ 
low the general example and neglect her.’’ 
“ But, uncle, sin; has every comfort, and I do 
not think any one ever says an unkind word to 
her—indeed wo all like her very much; but she 
lives with us III order that she may teach ; she 
cannot, expect I should constantly make a com¬ 
panion of her," and here a slight toss of Mary's 
head showed that a litt le pride was at work at 
the idea of her selecting the governess for a 
friend. 
“ But it has doubtless never occurred to you, 
Mary, that her life must lie a very lonely one, 
left as she is to her own companionship when 
not actually employed with ihe children ; and 
do you not think Hint wo have a duty incum¬ 
bent on us to render the lives of all around us 
as happy as possible V 
“I have never heard her complain of dull¬ 
ness,” said Mary. 
“She is not a person who would ever com¬ 
plain, I think. On the contrary, from what I 
have seen of her, I believe she would reconcile 
herself cheerfully to whatever was appointed 
as her lot; she has known much sorrow and 
great reverses." 
“ I do not know much about her history," 
said Mary. “ She never says anything on the 
subject. I believe her husband was a phy¬ 
sician.” 
“Yes, I had some conversation with her one 
day lately, and gathered from her that he was 
getting into good practice when his health fail¬ 
ed and he had to go to Madeira. He never re¬ 
turned, consumption made rapid progress, and 
in the course of u year she laid him In the En¬ 
glish cemet ery near Funchal, and had to return 
home alone, with two little children and small 
means." 
“And what became of her children?" asked 
Mary. “I did not even know she over had 
any." 
“ She settled near New York with them, but 
in less than two yours she lost thorn both from 
scarlet fever. Soon after this the bank broke 
in which was all her little property, und she 
was left penniless, and obliged to earn her 
living as a governess.” 
“Poor thing!" said Mary. “And so she has 
told you all this, uncle, and yet to me, who 
have known her so long, she has never said a 
word about her sorrowful history," 
" Because, dear Mary, you have never sought 
her confidence; you have regarded her simply 
as a person hired to teach. You have stood 
aloof from any Intimacy or friendship because 
she was but a governess. Yet I am inclined to 
think that she is one you would soon love if 
you knew her better. Anyhow, l think that 
while under your roof you should do your best 
to make her life a happy one." 
Mary was forcibly struck by her uncle’s re¬ 
marks; more so than she oared to acknowl¬ 
edge at that time, lie saw that he had set her 
thinking, and thought it best not to continue 
the subject. It gratified him, however, to no¬ 
tice that she went and sat by Mrs. Lorrimer 
that evening and tried to draw her into the 
general conversation in a way he had never 
scon her do before. 
The morning ho left she spoke to him. “I 
shall not forget what you said to me, uncle, 
about Mrs. Lorrimer. 1 feel that we have not 
shown her any real sympathy or kindness all 
tills time that she has been with us.” 
“God bless and help you, my dear niece,” 
said Mr. Littleton, “in this and every other 
effort to do right.” And so they parted. 
CHAPTER II. 
It is not an easy task to alter our every-day 
habits, and so Mary found when she began to 
try and make her father’s house more of a real 
home for the gentle, painstaking governess, 
who, though all her bodily comforts were well 
provided for, lived with them almost as a 
stranger. But she began in various little ways 
to show her attention, and to encourage her 
sisters to do the same. Mrs. Lorrimer was sur¬ 
prised one morning when she wah suffering 
from a headache to sec Mary enter the school¬ 
room with a bottle of Eau de Cologne in her 
hand which she placed beside her, saying it 
would perhaps relieve her If she applied it to 
her forehead and temples. 
Mrs. Lorrimer’s look of gratitude and the 
pleased way In which she thanked her made 
Mary feel how pleasant and easy a thing it was 
to show a little sympathy, and yet- how seldom 
she had done so. 
Phyllis was in rather a stupid mood that day; 
she was trying to hammer out some German 
to Mrs. Lorrimer, who, with aching head and 
patient face, was listening to her imperfect 
lesson. Flora was waiting with equal impa¬ 
tience tor her turn to come that sin- might 
show her sums. 
“You are not fit to be teaching to-day," said 
Mary; “ will you not give the children a holi¬ 
day, Mrs. Lorrimer, and go and lie down ?” 
“Not on any account, thank you," replied 
she. “ l could not rest if the girls were not 
doing anying, for they have had so many holi¬ 
days since their uncle came that they are for¬ 
getting a good deal, and are getting rather 
unsettled.” 
Mary left the room to return to her occupa¬ 
tion In the morning-room; but *be walked 
more slowly than usual, and paused In deep 
thought for a few minutes as she Bat down be¬ 
fore her embroidery frame. A struggle was 
going on in her mind. She knew that sin; was 
fully competent to take Mrs. Lorrimer’s place 
tii the school-room ami relieve her of the Ger¬ 
man grammar lesson, and the sums that, must 
so sorely try hci aching head. But then she 
had ft great dislike to teaching, and moreover 
she particularly wanted to gel on with her 
work, for a bazaar which was to take place in 
a few weeks.—[Concluded next week. 
AN INCIDENT IN THE CARS. 
On the whole, pleasant traits of character 
are not common In the cars. This opinion I 
expressed to my friend Summers the other 
day. In reply to ray remarks ho related a little 
adventure, which, as It Is apropos, and more¬ 
over, Involves a litt le love and sentiment, I 
give without apology, and in his own words. 
It appears that in most unlikely places love 
and sentiment may be dlscovord. 
“I was escort!ng homo the lovely Charlotte 
-, to whom l was at the time quite devoted. 
Charlotte could scarcely And room to spread 
her crinoline and arrange tier voluminous 
flounces. I stood up near her, there being no 
vacant scat. 
“After n few minutes, came In a poor woman, 
who deposited a basket of clothes on the front 
platform, and held In her arms a small child, 
while a little girl hung to her dress. She looked 
tired and weary, but there was no vacant seat; 
to be sure, Charlotte might have contracted 
her flounces, hut. she did not. Beside her, how¬ 
ever. sat a very lovely and elegant young 
woman, who seemed trying, by moving down 
closer to others, to make space enough for the 
stranger between herself and Miss D. At 
last she succeeded, and with the sweetest blush 
I evor saw, she Invited the poor female to be 
seated. Charlotte D. drew her drapery around 
her, and blushed too, but it was not a pretty 
blush at all, and she looked annoyed at the 
proximity of the new-comer, who was, how¬ 
ever, clean and decently, though very thinly 
clad. 
“ The unknown lady drew her little girl upon 
her lap, and wrapped her velvet mantlo around 
the small, half-clad form, and put. her muff 
over her half-frozen little hands. 
“ 8o great was the crowd that I alone seemed 
to observe. The child shivered; the keen wind 
from the door blew upon her unprotected neck. 
I saw the young lady quietly draw from uoder 
her mantle a lit He shawl, which she softly put 
on the shoulders of the little one; the mother 
looked on with confused wonder. After a 
short time she arose to leave the cars, and 
would have removed the shawl, but the un¬ 
known gently whispered, * No, keep it for her.’ 
The woman did not answer; the conductor 
hurried her out, and her eyes swam with tears, 
l noticed her as she descended to a basement, 
and I hastily remarked the house. 
“ Soon after, my unknown rose to depart. I 
was in despair, for I wanted to follow and dis¬ 
cover her residence, but. could not leave Miss D. 
“ How glad, then, I was to see her bowing, as 
she passed out, to a mutual acquaintance, who 
stood In the doorway. From him, ere many 
minutes, I learned her name and address. 
“To shorten a story as much as possible,that 
lady is now my wife. In the small incident 
which introduced her to me, she showed her 
real character. A few days after our marriage 
I showed her the blessed crimson shawl, which 
I redeemed from its owner, and shall keep as a 
memento. There are sometimes pleasant 
things to be found In unexpected places; cer¬ 
tainly I may be said to have picked out my 
wife In the cars." 
-»»» 
BUSBY’S IRON WEDDING. 
Btjsby of Trenton celebrated his “iron wed¬ 
ding” one day last week, and he invited about 
one hundred and twenty guests to the wed¬ 
ding. Of course each person felt, compelled 
to bring a present of Borne kind, and each one 
did. When Mr. and Mrs. Smith came they 
handed Busby a pair of flat-irons. When Mr. 
and Mrs. Jones arrived they also had a pair of 
flat-irons. All bands laughed at the coinci¬ 
dence. And there was even greater merriment 
when the Browns arrived with two pairs of 
flat-irons. But when Mr, and Mrs. Robinson 
came In with another pair of flot-irous the 
laughter became perfectly convulsive. There 
was, however something less amusing about it 
when the Thompsons arrived with four flat¬ 
irons wrapped in brown paper. And Busby’s 
fare actually looked grave when the three 
Johnson girls were ushered into the parlor 
carrying a flat-iron apiece. 
Each one of the succeeding sixty guests 
brought, flat-irons, and there was no break in 
the continuity until old Mr. Curry arrived from 
Philadelphia with a cast-iron cow-bell. Now, 
Busby had no earthly use for a cow-boil, and, 
at any other time he would have treated such 
a present, with scorn. But now he was actually 
grateful to Mr. Curry, and he was about to em¬ 
brace him, when the Walsingham’s came in 
with a new kind of double-pointed flat-irons 
with wooden handles. And all the rest of the 
guests brought the same articles, except Mr. 
Rugby, and lie had with him a patent stand for 
holding flat-irons. 
Busby got madder and madder every minute, 
and, by the time the company had all arrived, 
lie was nearly insane with rage, and he went, 
up to bed leaving Ids wife to entertain the 
guests. In the morning they counted up the 
spoils, and found that they had two hundred 
and thirteen flat-irons, one stand and a cow¬ 
bell. And now the Busbys have cut tiie Smiths, 
and Browns, and Johnsons, and the rest en¬ 
tirely, for t hey are convinced that there was a 
preconcerted design to play a trick upon them. 
The fact is, however, that the hardware store 
in the place had an overstock of flat-irons, and 
sold them at an absurdly low figure, and 
Busby's guests unanimously went for the 
cheapest thing they could find, as people al¬ 
ways do on such occasions. Busby thinks lie 
will not celebrate his “silver wedding.” 
— — _ 
SPARKS AND SPLINTERS. 
Epitaph for a cannibal—One who loved his 
fellow-men. 
If you see a policeman aim at a dog, try to 
get near the dog. 
What trade is it, whose works are trampled 
underfoot? A shoemaker. 
Why should a magistrate be very cold? Be¬ 
cause he represents just-ice. 
The attempt to weave zephyr worsteds on 
heir-looms has proved a failure. 
The two colors which are Indescribable are 
invisible green and blind man’s buff. 
It Is doubted whether the New Mexico min¬ 
ing stockholders tell an ore true tale. 
A thief running away Is a scamp, but the 
policeman's chase after him is a scamper. 
THOSE who have tried It say that kissing Is 
like a sewing machine, because it seems good. 
On week days you buy your music by the 
sheet. On Sundays you can have it by the choir. 
Wiiy were the soothsayers of old called au¬ 
gurs? Because they were such horrible bores. 
To make a dog add, multiply or subtract, tie 
up one of his paws, and he will put down three 
and carry one. 
Composition by a little boy—Subject, “ The 
Horse." “The horse is a very useful animal; 
it has four legs—one on each corner." 
In Siberia, whispers can behenrd half a mile. 
When a fellow goes sparking he carries a slate 
and writes down whut he Intends to say, 
“Dried tongue," was the answer which a 
minister gave some one who asked him what 
he had in his carpet-bag, which contained seven 
sermons. 
Dean Swift says“ It is with narrow-sou led 
people as It Is with narrow-necke . bottles ; the 
less they have In them the more noise they 
make in pouring It out." 
I A Guuman In New York being asked how 
much sourkrout he had put up for winter use, 
replied“1’s uot got much. Little more as 
ten barrels, shust for sickness.” 
One of the streams running into Lake Supe¬ 
rior is called Temperance River, because it is 
the only one of all the tributaries of the lake 
that has no “ bar” at its mouth. 
A darkey gavo the following reason why 
the colored race is superior to the white“ All 
men are made of clay, and like the meerschaum 
pipe, they are more valuable when highly col¬ 
ored.” 
Heading. 
TO MY MOTHER DEAR! 
BY EMMA BERT. 
And know yon not, my mother sweet, 
That somewhere down the years, 
I’ll weave n crown ot gladness, meet 
To rest upon a brow that bears 
The whited coronet of grief ? 
And yet, I sometimes, mother, fear— 
Since Art Is Ion if, and .Lite is brief— 
I cannot hold you, mother dear;— 
That while 1 toll the dusty way 
To gain the dewy field, 
All fair, and blossom-strewn, I may 
Look up and see revealed 
A rarer sunset glory on the hills 
And thou, Just passing o’er, 
Beyond this Bayer Boul, that wills 
To make tbeo blest. Alas! Before 
I touch the border-land of rest, 
Where full fruitions bide. 
God knows, my mother. If 'tls best 
That 1 should be denied. 
O, If thou, mother, shoukl’st not stay, 
Somewhere my wish is found t 
For fairer -far-1 think It may 
Bo Christ will make thee crowned. 
■» 
MILTON’S DAILY LIFE. 
Milton lived in a small house in London, or 
in the country, In Buckinghamshire. Of all 
consolations, work is the most fortifying and 
tiie most healthy, because It solaces a man, not 
by bringing him cane, but by requiring effort. 
Every morning he had a chapter of the Bible 
read to bltn in Hebrew, and remained for some 
time In silence grave, in order to meditate on 
what he hal heard, lie never went to a place 
Of worship. Independent in religion as in all 
else, he was snfliciont to himself. He studied 
till mid-day; then, after un hour’s exercise, he 
played die organ or bass violin. Then he re¬ 
sumed his studies till six, ami in tiie evening 
enjoyed tae society of his friends. When any¬ 
one came to visit him, he was usually found in 
a room hung witu old green hangings, seated in 
an arm-chair, and dressed quietly in black. Ho 
had been very beautiful in his youth, and his 
English cheeks, once delicate as a young girl’s, 
retained their color almost to t he end. 
Few men have done such honor to their kind. 
Amidst so many trials (a scrivener caused him 
to lose #10,000; at t he Restoration lie was re¬ 
fused payment of #10,000 duo him from the ex¬ 
cise office; his house was burned in the great 
Are; when he died lie only loft $7,500, including 
the produce of his library), a pure and lofty 
joy, altogether worthy of him, had been granted 
to him; the poet, buriei under the Puritan, 
bad reappeared more sublime than ever, to give 
to Christianity a second Homer.— Taim. 
- ■*■•*■■* - 
WHY JOHNNY LIKED THE MINISTER. 
“ O ! wasn't that a good minister we had to¬ 
day?" said Johnny. 
“ Yes, very good. Which sermon did you like 
best?” said his teacher. 
“O, I don't know I It wasn’t the sermons 
altogether that I mean.” 
“ What then ? " 
“ Why, he prayed for Sunday-schools and 
boys so good; I never heard any one pray so 
much for boys. Most of them do not. That is 
why I like him." 
“ Do you not like to be prayed for ? ” 
“ Why, yes, of course 1 do." 
“The Minister prayed to day that all the boys 
may be Christ s bojs. Did you like that? ” 
“ Yes, and I prayed as hard as I could that I 
might be. When wo hear people praying for us 
it makes us think It is about time to be praying 
for ourselves. If children don’t like to say 
much about good thing*, I guess they all like 
to have the Minister remember them. I always 
watch and see if they pray for young folks; if 
they don’t, I think they won’t have much iu the 
sermon either. Then, of course, I don’t listen 
as well as 1 should If I thought there was 
something for me.” 
-- 
A TOUCHING SCENE. 
Henry Kedell fell from a train on the 
Athens road and was crushed to death. As he 
lay gasping on the ground, a throng of brake- 
men, engineers, firemen and his fellow-labor- 
e», ^rafhered around his mangled form with 
blantden and a» this agonizing appeal 
went forth from a soul irem ..fhjr oh ine bunk 
of eternity Is there any one that can pray? 
Oh! pray for me!"-strong men turned away 
to hide their emotion. And when a Christ ian 
engineer knelt by the side of the dying man, 
the crowd reverently uncovered their heads 
and listened with breathless awe while he ut¬ 
tered a heartfelt and touching appeal, that, 
caused the tears to start from mauy a manly 
eye unused to such a visitor. It was a solemnly 
Impressive scene. At the request of the un¬ 
fortunate man, u clergyman was sent for, but 
did not arrive until too late—he died with his 
last wish ungratifled. 
-- 
Oer prayers and God’s mercy are like two 
buckets iu a well—while one ascends, the other 
descends. 
