©ORE'S BUBAL NEW-YORKER 
% 
to every-day kindness and love, except from 
deai- old HONOR, that I try not to like it so 
much, because 'twill bo over so soon. Tot I 
don't suppose I have any groat trial, and all my 
troubles resolve themselves Into so little when 
they are put Into words. It is the living 
through them that is the hard part. 
“ I cannot remember mamma very well, only 
that she was never cross, and that I loved her 
so! I am always longing for her to come back. 
Papa was almost always away, riding around 
the country; even at night he would have to 
go—a physician's time is so much taken up 
here. But when we did have an evening to¬ 
gether It was a treat for both of us. He used 
to take nm in his arms and toll mo everything 
about mamma, and how evoryono loved her, 
and that I must grow up sweet and lovable, a* 
she was. That is it; I don't do as he said. 
Such a great blank came when he died; and I 
think I grow bitter and harsh and ugly every 
day. Perhaps Aunt NANCY loves me. She 
must, becauso she always looks after my things 
and saves me more than moat people waste in 
a year (1 Bruited at this); lint—but—she has a 
queer way of showing it. It is nothing but 
‘scolding and fretting and fussing’ all the 
time, to quote Honor,” site said, desperately. 
“There, you know it now. It is about the 
cooking, or the washing, or what the maid 
does, or what I do. HONOR escapes oftonest, 
because she knows she doesn’t mind it a bit. I 
get so too, sometimes; but then again it makes 
me long to be where father and mother are. It, 
chills ine and shuts me up within myself, and 1 
Can’t bear tosoo people, because our real life Is 
so different from what it seems on the surface. 
You have to keep up the seemly outside, and 
be mail-proof against all side thrusts then. 
“ I think over how beautiful home-life must 
be, even for the poorest people, if they love 
one another. There Is no grief, no work, no 
petty, grinding care that need make them mis¬ 
erable then. Everywhere r go people are so 
much happier than wo are. 1 get disgusted 
with books oftentimes, they are such a perfect 
contrast to anything 1 have ever realized. Yet 
I try to do my part,. I gat up every morning 
hoping perhaps one day may be different, and 
I tread so carefully; but before it is ovei my 
visions have melted into thin air,’’ with a laugh. 
“But what, a goose I am ! You can’t under¬ 
stand, and 1 am going to trample down my 
sensitiveness and out-reaching desires, and 
next summer you won't know your grave, self- 
controlled relat ion. Conte, let’s go back.” 
I moved along by har side, pondering 
why it was that Con seta the solitary In such 
families that they must walk hand in hand 
with those who selfishly forget that love alone 
lightens the burdens of life—who have few 
sympathies or hopes in common, and who wan¬ 
der apart one from the other, in weariness and 
pain. 
"Paitbie,” I said, “patience is a great les¬ 
son, one that we are long in learning. We 
blunder through many pages and are never 
perfect in it. Perhaps you are being taught 
this." 
“Ye3," she said, “and to be like my name. 
Good night, now.” 
“ Good night,** I said; “but remember your 
promise to show me the sunrise from your 
hill.” 
I wondered, as I started very early the next 
morning to meet Faith no, why it was that she 
should kayo crept into my heart, from the first, 
moment that I saw her, when all the brilliant 
beauties and soft, sweet faces I mot every day 
in the city were nothing tome. But my won¬ 
dering did not make it plainer. Only it was 
so; and tor me the sweetest portion had been 
kept, if-. 
Faixhih stood by the gate In the gray morn¬ 
ing, waiting for me. “ It is nothing for country 
people to be up so early,” she said, laughingly, 
“but I am amazed at you. I must commend 
city promptues 
She looked so pure and sweet in lier white 
dress, with those earnest, liquid eyes, and ten¬ 
der grace in every motion, that 1 stooped down 
and kissed her for answer; and then we went 
to the hilUtop to watch the dawning together. 
Can anything be more lovely than this soft, 
slow mysterious coming of the new day, boiu 
out of darkness and night ? That deep, intense 
grayness that hid the eart h a few moments ago 
has taken a softer shade; the mists are lifted, 
and we see diin forms of ships In the oiling, 
boats lazily gliding down the stream, quiet 
houses, tall, straight trees, and little colorless 
shrubs—for tbs light is not yet. Of a sudden 
the wind wakes up, and rustling through the 
fragrant branches, brings its fresh morning 
greeting to the valleys below. There is u gen¬ 
tle hush, full of quiet expectancy; then a s tir¬ 
ring and fluttering tn t he air, and a few faint 
nates of distant song; the buds are opening, 
and the drooping flowers lift up Llioir head . 
Far off from the village, beyond the easieru 
hills, there is a quivering of light in the hori¬ 
zon; flashing up out of the depthB; calling to 
the world, “Awake, awake, thou that sleep- 
est!"—deepening till the golden flood fills the 
sky, then melting into crimson waves, that in 
their turn break into gorgeous purple mid 
green—such coloring as only Gun can make. 
We knew the sun went down in glory, ni;e a 
great king, attended till the last by royal 
pomp; but Is this Iiis coming? We thought it 
was alone, silently, the uplifting of a great orb 
of light, till its yellow rays dazzled us, and we 
awoke. Not so. As he cornea the whole earth 
wakes to meet him with glad welcome. The 
far off music grows louder and louder, till a! 1 
t he winged creation shout for joy. The world 
has come back to life. 
But It is ever darkest before dawn. I think 
the same thought flashed from Faith to me. as 
we stood drinking in the glory. 
“Is it so with you, Faithk ?” I said. “The 
dawning is close at h*md. Shall we watch 
many a morning together?" 
“O, Page!” she said. And I gathered her 
into my arms with the secret prayer that she 
might never know grief again. 
Is it not always so? When the darkness 
seems impenetrable—when wo put out groping 
hands to moot nothing—when wo sit alone and 
feel the deadliest creeping into our very souls, 
she.” we not pray and wait awhile, knowing 
that toe light will surely come? 
A ROYAL ROMANCE. 
Kensington House, once the royal residence, 
is near Holland House, where Lady Sarah Len¬ 
nox, a beautiful girl of llfteen, was residing 
with her sister. The Prince of Wales, soon to 
be George III., fell in love with her, and soon 
! after his accession and before his coronation 
as good as asked her, in his awkward, stupid 
way, to bo bis queen. At a ball given in the 
palace he took her cousin, Lady Lucy St.rang- 
ways, one side and asked her when she meant 
to leave town. She replied that she intended to 
stay for the coronation. Ho said that this 
would not tuke place at present, for there would 
lx* no coronation until there was a queen; and 
added, “ 1 think your friend is the Attest per¬ 
son for it. Tell her so from me.” The next 
lime Lady Sarah was at court, the King Jed her 
to a window and inquired, “Has your friend 
told you of my conversation with her f ” “ Yes, 
sir,” was the answer. “ And what do you think 
of it? " “ Nothing, sir." “ Nothing comes from 
nothing,” answered George frettiahly, and 
turned on his heel. 
The truth is, flic girl whs engaged in a flirta¬ 
tion with the rather disreputable Lord New- 
bottle. Ohe soon after wards went into the 
count ry, fell from her horse, and fractured her 
leg, a/ul had n quarrel with Lord Newboti lu. 
The King was most assiduous in his inquiries 
after her; and when she came bank to Holland 
House it was at, least wit h a strong liking for 
George. It was observed also that every line 
morning ho was wont to ride along a quiet lane 
which skirted the grounds of Holland House, 
and that Lady Harah was sure to he on the lawn 
picturesquely dressed, and raking hay like an¬ 
other Maud Muller. This courtship became the 
talk at court, and F ix was evidently confident 
that his sister-in-law waste be Queen of En¬ 
gland. The court, and especially the person¬ 
ages of the blood royal, took alarm at the pros¬ 
pect that one of rank inferior to thoir own 
would lie placed above them. Lord Bute,‘-the 
Prime Minister, sent a secret emissary to look 
out l or a queen among the princely families of 
the continent. The report was in favor of t he 
ugly but rather clever young princess Charlotte 
of Mecklouburg-Htrel 1 tz. What means were 
used to Induce George to consent to abandon 
the lovely Sarah and aek the hand of the ugly 
Charlotte Is not certainly known. It is said 
that I nc straw which broke the back of his re¬ 
solution was a sight of a neatly written letter 
from the pen of little Charlotte about the hor¬ 
rors of war and the blessings of peace. But in 
the early summer of 1701 Lady Sarah was 
awakened from her haymaking and dreams of a 
crown by reports almost certainly authentic 
that the King was to bo married to the Meck¬ 
lenburg princess; and she took pen in hand and 
wrote to Lidy Susan about the matter. “1 
shall take care,” she writes, “ to show that I 
am not, mortified to anybody ; but if it is true 
that one can vex anybody with a reserved, cold 
mauncr, he shall hare it, 1 promise him. Luckily 
for me I did not love him, and only liked. Nor 
did the title weigh anytliingwith me. So little, 
at least, that my disappointment did not affect 
my spirits above an hour or two, I believe. 
The thing ' am most angry at is iookiug so like 
a fool, as I shall for having gone so often for 
nothing." She probably meant having bo often 
gone out to l ho Hold to make hay at the King. 
“ But," she proceeds, "1 don’t much care. If 
he were to change his mind again (which can’t 
be, though), and not give a very, very good 
reason Tor his conduct, I would not have him." 
They met a week after, when everybody knew 
that the Mecklenburg marriage was arranged. 
Poor George was naturally enough confused; 
and Lady Sarah, ss she had promised, was very 
cool and dignified. 
In 1814, fifty-three years after the marriage of 
George Hi., a charity sermon was preached by 
the Dean of Canterbury in behalf of an infirm¬ 
ary for treatment of diseases of the eye, which 
had been founded by George III. at the time 
when be hud begun to lose his sight. He was 
now totally anu incurably blind, a circumstance 
to which the Dean eloquently alluded. Among 
the hearers was an aged woman who wept 
bitterly. At the close of the service she had to 
be led out, for she too, v,*as sightless. This 
blind old woman was no other than the once 
beautiful Lady Sarah Lennox.— The Galaxy for 
September. 
- 4 - 4~4 ---— 
ALLLIff EDWARD AND HIS WIFE. 
The prince of Wales presents the appearance 
of a stout and middle-aged gentleman, large 
in the neck and bald-headed, lie was in plain 
citizen’s dress, and wore a gorgeous button-hole 
bouquet. Ho has been accused of many excess¬ 
es, but his face Is pleasant, and free from the 
evidence of vicious Indulgence, He is a veryin- 
telligont and agreeable-looking gentleman, and 
when one considers the facilities that he has 
had for being led into temptation, it must be 
confessed, I think, that lie has taken good care 
of himself. His appearance confirms his repu¬ 
tation here as that of a kindly and clever good 
fellow. The princess of Wales is the winner of 
hearts for theroyal family. Her pensive beauty 
has faded hut little, ami her happy taste in 
dress and her airy grace excite goncral admira¬ 
tion. I should have noticed carefully how this 
fair princess was dre-sed, but her sister-in-law, 
the crown princess of England and Germany*, 
came in view with the tall, bronzed soldier, 
with close-clipped hair and tawny beard, the 
crown prince, lior husband. Tho contrast be¬ 
tween the distinguished couples was strongly 
marked. The prince and princess of Wales 
seemed a shade restive. They were smiling 
and gracious, with, perhaps, one may suy, a 
I little of the glitter of (he opera or fairy tale. 
The other couple were serious and plain, cloth¬ 
ing dark, features grave, meaning business. A 
more soberly-dressed and unpretending couple 
than the future emperor and empress of Ger¬ 
many were not in Dean Stanley’s congregation 
that crowded the ancient abbey.—Murat Hai¬ 
ti cad's Letters. 
-- 
STRONG MEN. 
Str ength of character consists of two things: 
power of will and power of self-restraint. It 
requires two things, therefore, for its existence: 
strong feelings and a strong command over 
them. Now, we all very often mistake strong 
feelings for strong character. A man who bears 
all before him, before whose wild bursts of fury 
tho children of tho household quake, because 
ho lias ills own way in all things, we call him a 
strong man. The truth is, lie is a weak man ; 
it is his passions t hat are strong; he, mastered 
hy them, is weak. 
You must measure the strength of a man by 
the power of the feelings he subdues, not by 
the power of those that subdue him. A rid heneo 
composure Is often the highest result of 
strength. Did we ever see a man receive a fla¬ 
grant injury, and then reply calmly? That man 
Is morally strong. Or did we ever see a man in 
anguish stand as if carved out of solid rock, 
mastering birascif ? Or one hearing a hopeless 
daily trial remain silent, and never tell the 
world what cankered his home peace? That is 
strength. Ho who, with strong passions, re¬ 
mains chaste; he who, indignation within him, 
can be provoked and yet restrain himself and 
forgive, those are strong men, the moral heroes. 
-»♦» 
POLITE ECCENTRICITY. 
A very characteristic anecdote is related of 
Charles XV., late Kingol Sweden. A3 is known 
he treated all rules of etiquette with the utmost 
levity*, and was never happier than when he 
could pass himself off as some other person. 
His favorite place of residence was bis castle, 
called Ulrikftdaie, situated in the environs of 
Stockholm. Hero he passed his summers, and 
not unfrequcntly part of the winter. One day, 
alone and dressed in a simplest) minercostume, 
ho took a walk In his park, which was alway*s 
open to visitors. Hereheencountered a family 
of strangers, who, not recognizing the king, 
walked up to him, and asked if they were per¬ 
mitted to visit the castle. “Certainly,*' replied 
the king, “ be so good as to follow me.” And 
he conducted them from hall to hall, explain¬ 
ing everyt hing III a manner to do credit to the 
most voluble cicerone. The strangers were in¬ 
telligent, and pleased the king, who pleased 
them in bis turn. At the moment of separa¬ 
tion they begged him to tell them in what 
in mi id or they could show their gratitude. “I 
like photographs very much,” said the king. 
“ Lot us change portraits.” They agreed to this 
and inthe evening, when the strangers returned 
to their hotel, they found a large photographic 
portrait awaiting them, at the foot of which 
was written the words: 
“ From Charles XV., King of Sweden.” 
-<--»<«- 
A STORY OF1TOM MARSHALL. 
Ox one occasion Tom Marshall heard R. J. 
Breckinridge preach, and falling in with him 
after the service, accompanied him home. 
“Why don’t you preach better?” said Mar¬ 
shall. “ I do as weli as I can," answered Breck¬ 
inridge. ** Why don’t you preach as the Saviour 
did?” continued Marshall. “ That’s hard to 
do," rejoined Breckinridge. “ Preach in par¬ 
ables," said Marshall; “that is a very simple 
and easy thing to do; that's t he w ay our Lord 
sets forth the truth." "Well, Tom,” said 
Breckinridge, “ I have as high an opinion of 
your talents <t3 anybody else has, and I set a 
higher estimate on your reading and informa¬ 
tion t han most people do. I defy you to make 
a parable, and I dofy you to find one in litera¬ 
ture—outside of the New Testament." “ Non¬ 
sense!” exclaimed Marshall; “*I can make 
fifty, and I can find u hundred." “ Well, try it, 
and let me know," replied Breckinridge. 
Shortly after they met again. “Well, Bob,” 
said Marshall, " wliat about those things—the 
parables? I have tried my best, and I can’t 
make one; I've looked everywhere, and I can’t 
find one. What does it all mean ? I give it up." 
“Yousee,” replied Breckinridge, “why I don’t 
preach in parables. I can’t do that.”— OtHqaey f 
j&tMiath Reading. 
MAXIMS, 
IHOM) him great who, for Love's sake, 
Can give with generous, earnest will, 
Yet be who takes for Love's sweet 6ake 
I think I hold more generous still. 
I bow before the noble mlml 
That freely some great wrong forgives! 
Yet nobler l* tho one f irgiven. 
Who bears the burden well and lives. 
It may be hard to gain, and still 
To keep a lowly, steadfast heart; 
Yet he who loses has to Oil 
A harder imd a truer part. 
Glorious It is to wear the crown 
Of a deserved and pure success *, 
He who knows how to fall has won 
A crown whose luster Is no less. 
Great man be he who can command 
And rule with jusl and tender sway: 
Yet it Is diviner wisdom taught 
Better by him who can obey. 
Blessed are those who die for God, 
And earn the martyr’s crown of light : 
Yet ho who lives for God may be 
A greater conqueror In His sight. 
THE ONE WORTHY. 
A few years ago there died at one of the mis¬ 
sion stations in India, r. native named Brindie- 
buml. He liad spent sixty or seventy years in 
the service of Satan. He was a byraggee— that 
is, one who professes to have subdued his pas¬ 
sions, and who was, as they express it, sc.cJiinp 
some one who is worthy. He went to Outwa, 
where ho attended a missionary’s preaching 
and instructions. “ I have been," said he, 
“many years going from one sacred place to 
another, seeking some one who is worthy, and 
to offer my power.'' (The sweetest flower, they 
say, is the human heart; this is their figurative 
way of talking.) “I have been seeking some 
ono to whom to offer my flower who is worthy; 
but never have I found one till now. I have 
heard of Jesus; I give It Him." 
The old man was faithful to his surrender—lie 
never took his heart from Jesus. Talking to 
his Hindu brethren, ho would say: “And who 
do you need but Him whom I have found?” 
IIii would take ids wallet of books and travel 
two or three hundred miles to distribute them; 
and this ho did for fourteen or fifteen years. 
Tho missionary's wife, in bis last days, would 
go to his bedside, and say: “Brindlebund, 
shall I got you some tea? Can you eat bread ? " 
He would lay Ids hand upon the New Testa¬ 
ment and say: “This is my tea—this is my 
bread; man was not made to * live by bread 
alone, but by every word that proeoedeth out 
of the mouth of God.”' Thus lie continued 
reading the sacred Scriptures, and looking to 
Jesus, till, sluicing beneath the weight of years 
and infirmity, ho resigned his spirit into the 
hands of his Redeemer—one of a large number 
of poor heutbons who have beon rescued from 
the darkness of idolatry and sin by the power 
of the Gospei, as preached by the missionaries. 
- 4 4 » ■ - 
FAITH. 
It 13 said that one day when Bonaparte was 
reviewing some troops, the bridle of his horse 
slipped from bis hand and the horse galloped 
off. A common soldier ran. and luving hold of 
the bridle, brought back the horse to the Em¬ 
peror’s hand when lie said to t.he man : 
“ Well done, captain." 
“Of what regiment sire?” inquired the sol¬ 
dier. 
“ Of the guards," answered Napoleon, pleased 
with his Instant belief in his word. 
The Emperor rode off; the soldier threw 
down his musket, and though he had no epan- 
Intts on his shoulders, no sword by his side nor 
any other mark of advancement, he ran and 
joined the staff of commanding officers. They 
laughed at him, and said: 
“ What have you to do here? ” 
“ I am captain of the guards," he replied. 
They were amazed, but he said; “The Em¬ 
peror has said so, and therefore I am.” 
In like manner, through the word of Gad; 
“He that beiieveth hath everlasting life,” is 
not confirmed by the feelings of the believer: 
he ought to take the word of God as true, be¬ 
cause he said it, and thus honor him as a God 
of truth, and rejoice with joy unspeakable. 
- 444 
What IS Prayer ?—ft is a communion with 
God. Oh! brethren, prayer is not an apostro¬ 
phe to woods, and wilds, and waters. It is not 
a moan cast, forth into the viewless winds, or a 
bootless behest expended on a passing cloud. 
It is not a plaintive cry directed to an empty 
echo, that can send back nothing but another 
cry. Prayer is a living heart that speaks in u 
living ear—the ear of the living God.— Dr. J. 
Hamilton. 
- »4 4 
Get to the roots of things. The goldmines 
of Scripture are not in the top soil; you must 
open a shaft; the precious diamonds of experi¬ 
ence are not picked up in the roadway; their 
secret places are far down. Get down into the 
vitality, the solidity, the veracity, the divinity 
of the word of God, and seek to possess all the 
inward work of the blessed Spirit.— Spunjeon. 
