V 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
AU3. 22 
l - - 
) But little Alice^cried bitterly, and treasured 
more tenderly than ever a little goggle-eyed 
doll, with arms out of all proportions and feet 
several degrees larger than her head, which 
was the last wooden exploit Julius had pre¬ 
sented to her. 
“ I’ll never have another bound boy,” asserted 
Mrs. Parley. 
******* 
“ Well, well,” sighed the farmer “ how l imes 
does slip away from us, to be sure! Alice is 
nineteen to-day, and it don’t soein right she 
should he away from us on her birthday. She's 
been three months in the city now, wife.” 
“Yes,” said Mrs. Parley, nodding her head, 
sagely, “and I don’t believe she'll come home 
alone either, neither.” 
“ Eh!” the farmer opened wide his blue eyes. 
“You don’t s'pose she’s engaged to that Mr. 
Clinton?" 
“You men are so slow to put two and two 
together,” said Mrs. Parley, with a conscious 
smile. “I've suspicloncd it this long while, 
and Mrs. Carter writes that half the young 
ladles in Boston are envying our little country 
girl. Only think! Won't it be nice to have 
our Alice a rich lady, living in a big house in 
Boston V” 
Mr. Parley stared steadfastly at the (ire. 
“Who is he any way?" lie asked in a troubled 
voice. “She's alii the child we've got, wife. 
Wo can’t give her to a man without knowing 
who and what lie is." 
“You needn’t worry," said his wife, with the 
superior calmness of one who Is posted. " lie's 
as steady going aa you be yourself- at least, so 
Mrs. Carter writes and he's an inventor, what¬ 
ever that may lie. Anyway, he made a great 
fortune out of a patent lie's sold to the Govern¬ 
ment. Alice won’t have to work all her days us 
hard as I have done, and that's one comfort." 
And when Alice's shy letter, which implied 
far more than it told, intimated that she was 
coming home under Mr. Clinton’s escort, the 
old farm bouse was duly swept and garnished 
for the reception of the honored guest.. Mrs. 
Parley put on her best black silk, and the fann¬ 
er donned his butternut full, watch seemed to 
him as gorgeous as it had been on the day be 
bought it, twenty good years ago. 
“I v/ondor which train they will come in?" 
said Mrs. Parley, reflectively. “I should hate 
the worst way to have that turkey spoiled." 
But such a catastrophe was happily averted, 
for the travelers arrived as the stormy twilight 
made the glow of the great wood tire doubly 
grateful. .Thera was the crunch of wheels in 
thedeep snow without, the opening of the door, 
and then Alice was in her mother's arms. 
In the background a tali figure stood stately 
and dignified and self-contained, with jet black 
hair and grave violet gray eyes, and the farmer 
made Ids haul how as Alice introduced “ Mr. 
Clinton," with a deep red flush upon her cheek. 
“You must like him vory much, father, for 
my sake," she said, “ because I have promised 
to bo hIs wife." 
When the hospitable meal was over and Mrs. 
Parley came in from the. kitchen, pulling down 
the sleeves that had been rolling up above her 
elbow, and trying on a clean chocked apron, 
Alice sprang to her feet. 
"Mother." she sail, her face all Millies and 
dimples, “Mr. Clinton has brought you a pres¬ 
ent.” 
"A present!" cried Mrs. Parley. 
“And father must get a hammer and screw¬ 
driver and open it very carefully, for it’s china.” 
"China?” 
" Yes, real china, Imported from Canton; so 
transparent that you can look through it in I ho 
colors of life. Oh, if is so beautirul!” 
She stood by, gleefully clapped her hands as 
the treasures were unpacked, and enjoying her 
mother’s delight as the beautiful fragile things 
one by one made their appearance from count¬ 
less wrappings of silver paper. 
“How kind it is of you, Mr. Clinton," said 
Mrs. Parley, looking up with beaming eyes ; “ I 
always did set store by china.” 
“Not kind at all," said the young man quiet¬ 
ly, " it is simply the settlement of a very old 
debt." 
“A debt!” repeated the farmer's wife, with 
puzzled eyes, “I duu'tthinkl fairly understand 
you, Mr. Clinton." 
He smiled. " It is to replace the set which I 
broke, trying experiments twelve years ago." 
Mrs. Parleystarled, beginning to have uncom¬ 
fortable doubts as to the entire sanity of her 
daughter’s lover. And then, as lie smiled again, 
a sudden light broke in upon her brain. 
“ It ain't never”—she began, and thou stopped 
short. 
“Yes, it is mother!" cried Alice, radiantly. 
“It’s Julius— your Julius!” 
“ Whose ears you have boxed deservedly so 
many times,” laughed the young man. 
“And he inis made his fortune, mothe ,and 
lie Is a. great man now; ai d I always k ew it 
would bn so,” Alice wont on, flushed a .1 ex¬ 
cited. "And it all came from tnc experiments 
he was always trying.” 
“ Well, I never!" cried Mrs. Parley, while the 
farmer rubbed ids spent aeries, and laughed a 
low chuckling laugh, which expressed Ids per¬ 
fect contentment bet l ei than all the adjectives 
in Webster’s Dictionary could have done. 
And the Chiu December moon shining through 
the far-off window, beyond the orbit of the firs, 
beamed upon no happier household in nil the 
land than gathered that night around Former 
Parley’s hearthstone. 
A CURIOUS literary work has been undertaken 
by an English gentleman, under a commission 
from the trustees of the British Museum. It. is 
a reproduction of the title page of every book 
entered at Stationer.-.’ Hall, London, since the 
beginning of the reign of Henry the Eighth. 
AN INCIDENT IN THE CARS. 
On the whole, pleasant traits of character are 
not common In tho cars. This opinion I ex¬ 
pressed to my friend Summers the other day. 
Ill reply to my remarks he related a little ad¬ 
venture, which, as it is apropos, and moreover, 
involves a little love and sentiment, I give 
Without, apology, and In his own words. It 
appears that in most unlikely places love and 
sentiment may be discovered. 
" I was escorting liotue the lovely Charlotte 
-, to whom J wa; at the time quite de¬ 
voted. Charlotte could scarcely tlrid room to 
spread her crinoline and arrange her volumi¬ 
nous flounces. I stood up near her, there being 
no vacant seat. 
" After a 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 gtrl hung to her dress. Hhc 
looked tired and weary, but there was no va¬ 
cant scat; to be sure, Charlotte might have 
contracted tier flounces, but she did not. Be¬ 
side her, however, sal a very lovely am! 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 ever saw, she invited the |*ior female 
to bo seated. C harlotte 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, 
however, clean and decently, though very thinly 
clad. 
"The unknown lady drew her little girl upon 
her lap, and wrapped her velvet mantle around 
the small, half-clad form, and put her muff 
over her half-frozen little bands. 
“ So groat was the crowd that i alone seemed 
to observe. Tho child shivered ; the keen wind 
from the door blew upon her unprotected neck. 
1 saw the young lady quietly draw from under 
bet- mantle a little shawl, which she softly put 
on tho shoulders of the little one; tho mother 
looked on with confused womler. After u 
short time she arose to leave tho cars, and 
would have removed the shawl, hut the un¬ 
known gently whispered, ‘No, keep if for her.’ 
Tin- woman did not answer; the conductor 
hurried iter out, and her eyes swam wit h tears. 
I noticed her n* she descended to a basement, 
and I hastily remarked the homo. 
t* Boon 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 I). 
“ How glad, then, I was to son her bowing, as 
she passed out, to a mutual acquaintance who 
stood ill the doorway. From him, ere many 
minutes, I learned her name and address. 
“ To shorten a story ns 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, 
tilings to be found in unexpected places; cer¬ 
tainly 1 may be said to have picked out my wife 
in the cars.” 
■-■»■»» —-- - 
A REPROOF OF FOPPERY, 
Dean Swift was a groat enemy to extrava¬ 
gance in dress, aud particularly to that destruc¬ 
tive ostentation in the middle classes, which 
led them to mako their appearance above t.lielr 
condition in life. Of bis mode of reproving 
this folly In those persons for whom he had 
any esteem, the following instance lias been 
recorded : When George Faulkner the printer, 
returned from London, where he had been ao- 
liclltng subscriptions fur Ids edition of the 
Dean's works, he went to pay his respects to 
hiui, dressed in a lace waistcoat, a bag wig, 
and other fopperies. 
Swift received him with the same ceremony 
as if he had been a stranger. “And pray, sir,” 
said he, “what aro your commands with me?” 
" 1 thought it was my duty, sir,” replied George, 
“to wait upon you immediately upon my ar¬ 
rival from London." " Pray, sir, who are you f" 
“George Faulkner, printer.” “You George 
Faulkner, the printer? Why, you are the most 
impudent, ban-faced scoundrel of any Impostor 
lever met with! George Faulkner is a plain, 
sober citizen, and would never trick himself 
out in luce and other fopperies. Get you gone, 
you rascal, or I will immediately send you to 
the House of Correction.” 
Away Went George as fast, as he could, and 
having changed his dress, returned to the dean¬ 
ery, where he was receheil with the greatest 
cordiality. “ My friend George," said the dean, 
“ I am glad to see you return safe from London. 
Why. here has been an impudent fellow with 
me just now, dressed in a lace waistcoat, and 
he would fain pass himself otl’ for you, but 1 
soon sent him off with a ilea in his tar.” 
-- 
MARRIED IN HASTE. 
The St. Lollis Republican vouches for an ex¬ 
citing but somewhat ludicrous matrimonial 
venture that recently took place at Cannellon, 
Did. A pretty Kentucky girl was loved by two 
brothers, but. was unable in decide between 
them and left them to settle the matter, which 
they proceeded to do as in all such oases in 
Kentucky duly provided. While the contest 
was going forward, a third young suitor with 
no embarrassing fraternal relations, brought 
tho news to the young lady and persuaded her 
to bridge her difficulties by eloping with him, 
and to this she consented. They crossed over 
to Cannclton and on their way engaged a min¬ 
ister to come arid marry them. Then the 
license was procured in double quick time, but 
to reach the appointed spot they were obliged 
to cross a stream too wide to Jump and too 
deep to wade, and tho bridge was undergoing 
repairs. Just at that time they espied a boat¬ 
load of men pushing off from the Kentucky 
ride. They saw they were pursued,and in a 
moment it would have been l’yramus and 
Thlsbe again, for the young couple were pre¬ 
paring to die for each other. But t he squire of 
tho village on the other side chocked their 
mad design. Hope bubbled afresh. They told 
him of their strait and he promised to marry 
them. The license was tied to a stone and 
flung across and the squire said “ I pronounce 
you nrm ami wife. Go and tell ’em, what God 
hath Jollied together lei, no man burst asunder. 
Young man, tie a dollar to another dornick and 
heave It over.” Then they turned in proud de¬ 
fiance to find the minister wit h bis party en¬ 
gaged to earn this very dollar that the squire 
had taken out of his hands. 
- ■ *»» ■ - - 
VALUE OF SMALL COURTESIES. 
Civtt.JTV costs nothing and is often product¬ 
ive of good results. Here is an instance:—A 
local doctor of medicine at Bath, England, lias 
just had a legacy of twenty thousand dollars, 
and a very comfortable house, left him by a lady 
who was only known to him by bis once offering 
her a sc at in his carriage. 
A gentleman known to the writ er, once assis¬ 
ted a very old and feeble man to cross from t ho 
London Mansion House to tho Bank of Eng¬ 
land. The crossing is a very dangerous one, 
especially at mid-day, when the city is full of 
cabs, omnibuses, drays and other ponderous 
vehicles. When tho old gentleman had got 
safely across, he exchanged cards with tho 
obliging young friend ; and there tJ ig matter 
ended. Homo four or five years after this in¬ 
cident oecurod, u Ann of London solicitors 
wrote to tin's young gentleman who had taken 
pity on the old man, informing him that a leg¬ 
acy of five thousand dollars and a gold watch 
and chain had been left him by a gentleman 
who “ took tho opport unity of again thanking 
him in his will for an act of unlooked for civil¬ 
ity." It Is not likely that all will have got 
watches and chains left them, or neat little 
bundles of crisp notes; but. it is certain that acts 
of civility are productive of sufficient results 
to our inner selves to make it worth while to 
practice them whenever wo find the opportuni¬ 
ty. -Exchange*. 
- - 
aMratft Reading. 
MY CREED. 
1 noLO that Christian grace abounds 
Where charity is seen ; that when 
Wb climb to Heaven, 'tls on the rounds 
Of love to men. 
1 hold all else nutned piety 
A selfish scheme, a vain pretense; 
Whore center Is not, cun there he 
Circumference ? 
This I moreover hold, and dare 
Affirm where’er my rhyme may go, 
Whatever thing* bo sweet or lair, 
Love makes them so; 
Whether tt bo the lullabies 
That cliarm to rest the nestling bird, 
Or that sweet, oontldenee of sighs. 
And blushes without word; 
Whether the dazzling and the flush 
Of softly sumptuous garden bowers 
Or by some cabin floor or hush 
Of ragged flowers. 
’l'is not the wide phylactery, 
Nor stubborn fast, or stated prayers, 
That makes us saints; we Judge the tree 
By what it bears. 
A nd when a man can live apart 
From work, on tbcologic trust, 
I know Hie blood about Wm heart 
Is dry ns dust. |.f. G. Whittier. 
-•»»» 
A SCHOLAR’S WORDS. 
Dean Stanley of Westminster, in his History 
of the Eastern Church, Lecture I., says : 
There can be no question that the original 
form of baptism— the very meaning of tho 
word \va- complete immersion lu tho deep 
bant is dial waters; and that for at, least four 
centuries any other form was c ither unknown 
or regarded, unless in the case of dangerous 
illness as an exceptional, almost, ;i monstrous 
case. To this form, the Eastern Church still 
rigidly adheres; and t he most illustrious and 
venerable portion of It, that of the Byzantine 
Empire, absolutely repudiates and Ignores any 
other mode of administration a. essentially in¬ 
valid. The Latin Church lias wholly altered 
the mode, mid, with the two exceptions of tho 
Cathedral of .Milan and the sect of the Baptists, 
a few drops of water are now t he Western sub¬ 
stitute for the three-fold plunge into the 
rushing rivers or the wide baptistries of the 
East. 
-»**. - - - - 
KINDS OF FAITH, 
THE ROMANCE OF LOVE. 
Two years ago, Joel H. Mansfield of San 
Francisco, Cal., having become enamored of 
Miss Mary Hein,and having failed to impress 
that young lady as favorably as be desired, mot 
her on the street one afternoon and blazed 
away at ber with a pistol. She was with anoth¬ 
er young man at t he time. Mansfield fired three 
times at her. Two of the shots took effect, and 
for some time Miss Hein's life was in danger. 
Mansfield was tried two or three limes for the 
assault, but each time the jury disagreed, and 
finally, the patience of the prosecuting oflieers 
being exhausted, a nolle prxttoqui was entered. 
The sequel to this romantic affair Is that a few 
days dgu the County Clerk issued a marriage 
license to Mr. Mansfield and Miss Hein, and 
during the week theyjwere made one flesh. No 
place in tho world can beat California for ro¬ 
mance. 
+ »♦- 
SPARKS AND SPLINTERS, 
If your brain is on fire blow it out. 
It is settled who the “ Rod Slayer ” is at last. 
IT is name is Lo. 
The vilest sinner may return—everything 
save an umbrella. 
The Ht. Louis bridge is a grand work, but is 
not without a pier. 
South Carolinians want to place their.little 
Moses in the bull-rushes. 
Mr. Shanks is a'Congressidnal candidate in 
Ohio. He should run well. 
Stoninhton claims the prettiest girls in 
Connecticut. Advertising dodge. 
When is a loaf of bread said.to'be inhabited? 
When there's a little Indian in it. 
What is that which a person likes to have 
and to get rid of as soon as possible ? A good 
appetite. 
Toast at a railwayed!oner: "Our Mothers, 
industrious tenders, though;they often mis¬ 
placed the switch." 
A heathen Gliiiice named Wong Chin Foo 
eloped with a Rochester girl, and the Democrat 
kays he did very Wong. 
The latest Instance of originality in a mar¬ 
riage announcement is the following: “No 
cards, no cake, no fuss." 
" \ it! ” yawned a bachelor, “ this world is but 
a glapmy prison.” “To (hose in solitary con¬ 
finement,” added a witty lady. 
What is the difference between a church 
organist and the influenza?—One knows the 
Stops and the other sl ops the nose. 
Don Piatt says shrewdly:—"Humor is to a 
newspaper what a tail is to a kite—very absurd, 
but very necessary to its ascension.” 
There is faith which tends to idleness, trusts 
Ood to do all, and leaves the soul stupid and 
powerless. There in a faith that worries, and 
works, and hopes that God will help. Aud 
t here is a true, better fait h, that works mighti¬ 
ly, because it never foars. Love will, must 
work, and cannot lie idle; it comes from God, 
breaks out in prayer, praise and service, like 
springs which cannot be suppressed. It is 
spontaneous, and grows by use. Faith that 
works by love is a tonic to the soul, girding it 
to bold endeavor, making it like God in active 
doings, in every service which Can assuage 
grief, relieve a pang, or impart a Joy. 
- - 
THOUGHTS FOR THINKERS. 
Every kind word aud feeling, every good 
deed and thought, every noble action and im¬ 
pulse, is like the ark-sent dove, and returns 
from the troubled waters of life bearing a greeu 
olive-branch to the soul. 
Convey thy love to thy friend as an arrow to 
the mark, to stick t here, not as a ball against 
the wall, to rebound back to you. That friend¬ 
ship will not. oontiuue to tho end that is begun 
for an end.— Enchiridion. 
Prayer la the Rachael of the soul, by which 
it draws water out of the wells of salvation: 
it is the hallowed pathway by which the spirit 
of man reaches its God ; it is the carrier dove 
of communication between the Christian and 
liis Father. 
There can be no friendship where there is no 
freedom. Friendship loves a free air, and will 
not be penned in straight and narrow inclos¬ 
ures. It will speak freedy, and act so too, and 
take no ill where no ill is meant; nay, where it 
is, it. will easily forgive, and forgot, too, on 
small acknowledgments. 
Tribulation may come as a flood into the 
church; we may be disappointed even in tho 
brethren; but those who have the eye fixed 
on Christ “hold on their way;” the word 
which they have heard and which they keep is 
a strong link binding them to him, who is 
more than all eke to them. 
When we turn away from some duty, or some 
fellow-creature, saying that our hearts arc too 
sick and sere with some great yearning of our 
own, we may often sever the lino on which a 
divine message was coming to us. Wo shut out 
the man, aud we shut out the angel who had 
sent him on to open the door .—Edward Garrett. 
Do the best thou knowest, to-day. Shrink 
not from frequent errors in this gradual, frag¬ 
mentary state. Follow thy light for as much 
as it will show thee; bo faithful as long as thou 
oanat, in hope that faith presently will lead us 
to sight. Help others without blaming their 
need of help. Love much and bo forgiven.— 
Margaret Fuller. 
