MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
SEPT. <8 
HOW HE LOST HEE, 
I knew Margaret was engaged, but I told her 
that I loved her. 
“ I don't know what you mean, sir 1 " she said, 
with an expressive lift of the jetty eyebrows ; 
but the liquid orbs beneath avoided mine, and 
that encouraged me to be saucy In my turn. 
“It is of no consequence that you should, of 
course; but you didn't Imagine that you wore 
going to flirt all tho summer with a fellow of 
mv stamp and get off unsinged yntirseir?" 
“Why not?" aho laughed. “ You don’t seem 
seriously damaged." 
“ But I am, My heart Is shriveled crisp as a 
wafer." 
“Really? Well, I don't know what ean be 
dono about It." 
“I am going to show you," Arid so on for 
half an hour. Wu spoke jestingly, both of us, 
but the laugh with eaoh other covcrod deeper 
feeling. 
She was beautiful, my Margaret; fond of 
homage—as v.*bat. woman is not? and accus¬ 
tomed to receiving Is. It was not her fault, 
after all, that I loved her, but her glory, as an 
honest man’s love Is always a true woman’s 
glory ; and Margaret was a true woman, though 
I had called her a flirt. 
Sho was promised in marriage to Ross Bentley 
before sho oversaw me, long enough. IIo had 
stopped a horse which had been running away 
with her, and so saved her life. When he asked 
her to give him what he had saved, what woman 
with gratitude and a wholo heart would not 
have said “Yes," as she did? Besides, sho 
loved him, for aught I know. I had seen him, 
and he was a handsome enough man to win a 
woman's lovo, If beauty would do it. 
A handsome couple, but somehow, seeing 
tho two together, they did not. soom to be fond 
of each other: and no T took courage. Cer¬ 
tainly Margaret never looked at Ross Bentley 
when I was by, as sho had looked at mo many 
a timo that summer, ns wo two strolled along 
tho beach. 
Boss Bentley once stayed a week, and went 
back to town, flo was a man of business, keenly 
devoted to money-making; fonder of that, I 
fancied, than of the beautiful woman he had 
won, and upon that Imagining I hung another 
hope. Margaret was an heiress. If Margaret 
had boon doworlesft, I fancy that Mr. Bently 
would never havo wooed hor. But how to 
prove it. 
Margaret and 1 did not rolapso Into tho old 
fashion of strolling about'tho beach by moon¬ 
light after Ross Bentley had come and gone, 
and we stopped looking and talking nonsense, 
watching each other furtively. I felt, confident 
that Margaret, was wondering if 1 had anything 
to do with those moods of ponsiveness which 
had oomo upon my da* k-oyod queen of late. 
One day I found her upon tho balcony, with 
an open letter In her hand. 
“ I am a very fortunate girl," she said, glanc¬ 
ing at the letter. “ Did you know that Clark, 
Vernon & Co., tho bankers in Now York, had 
failed 'ast wook ?" 
t had beard of it,. 
“The bulk of mv fortune was in their hands 
atonetlmo. I did not know but it was still. 
My guardian writes to tell me, however, that 
ho removed It months ago.” 
T came forward ongorly at, that, extending my 
hand. 
“ Permit tne to congratulate you. Miss Stone.” 
Margaret laughed rather confusedly as she 
put her little hand in mine. 1 saw that sho was 
surprised at my eagerness. 
“Miss Stone," said I. “did you believe mo 
when I said that T loved you, somewhere about 
a month ago?" 
Margaret colored vividly, as she gave me a 
doubting look. 
“Yes. What of it? Do you want to take It 
back now?" she laughed. 
"Not, I. But, In consideration of my great 
affection for you, I want you to do a favor for 
roc." 
" Name it," sho said, looking puzzled. 
"I am going up to New York to-morrow. 
Will you humor me by permitting mo to be the 
bearer of aletter from yourself to Mr. Bentley?” 
“ This is an odd request.” 
“T am aware of It. Will you write to Mr. Bent¬ 
ley a letter, asking him to inquire Into this 
matter of the bank failure, and let you know 
how serious a business It really is?" 
“ But. I don’t caro about knowing." 
“ T do." 
II Why not Inquire yourself, t hen'?" 
“ He ha 3 so ranch better facilities for Inves¬ 
tigation. Tim truth is. Miss Stone, I am. very 
much interested In this failure, and Mr. Bent¬ 
ley can find out all about tt for me. But I don’t 
like to ask him to do so much for a compara¬ 
tive stranger.” 
Margaret looked doubtful still.but sho wrote 
the letter, and I took Ittotheolty the next day. 
Ross Bentley grew slightly pale as ho road. 
“I suppose you know that tho bulk of Miss 
Stone's fortune was In the hands of Clark, Ver¬ 
non & Co.?" 1 carelessly observed, 
“ I was not aware of it," Bentley said, losing 
another shade of color. 
"Oh, well, it was. Can anything lie saved 
out of the crash, do you suppose?" 
“Not anything, I am very sure," lie stam¬ 
mered. And thinking he might like to medi¬ 
tate upon the aspect of affairs I took my de¬ 
parture, saying that I would oail before I went 
away again to take any message he might like 
to send. 
When I called the next day he gave me a let¬ 
ter for Margaret; but ho looked anywhere but 
at me as I took it. 
I caught a glimpse of Margaret’s blue dress 
on tlm piazza a* wo drove up to tho hotel, and, 
without waiting to go to my room first, I hani¬ 
on od to her and gave her the letter. 
Then, much as I would have liked to etay 
until she had read It, I had no excuse for doing 
so, nnd therefore loft her. I waltod with some 
curiosity for her appearance at dinner-time, 
but Bho did not come at all. I ate nothing my¬ 
self, and spent the evening pacing the piazza 
with my cigar and watching her window. But 
not bo much as a shadow of what I watched for 
crossed my vision. 
Remembering Bentley’s face as ho gave me 
the letter, I could imagine that he might, have 
written something unpleasant; but even 1 was 
not. prepared for tho contents of the missive 
.Margaret placed in my hands tho following 
morning, coming suddenly upon me where I 
lounged on the shore. 
“ I suppose this was what you went to town 
for?" sho said, with an angry scorn, under 
which I quailed, for I felt guilty ; and, as I read, 
I winced again. 
The scoundrel 1 A more disgraceful epistle J 
never perused. If Margaret had loved him 
ever so dearly, tilts would certainly have ended 
It. He dissolved tho engagement without An 
much as saying “ by your leave !" no did, In¬ 
deed, say something about hastening to speak 
while thoro was yet an uncertainty as to how 
seriously tlm failure had involved other people. 
But that was the merest gloss, and only gave 
Margaret, the Clue to tho r.elflfell reasons for this 
extraordinary conduct. 
I folded the letter and gave it back to hor 
without a remark. 
" Well," she asked, “ have you really nothing 
to say ?’, 
“ Shall I challenge him to mortal combat with 
horsewhips?" I Inquired. 
Tear* of anger sparkled In Margaret’s beauti¬ 
ful eyes. 
“ IJow could you humiliate mo so ?” she said. 
“I? Miss Stone!" 
“I bog your pardon, Mr. Gurney," sho said, 
haughtily. 
“ And I bog yours, Miss Stone, for meddling. 
I suspected Mr. Bentley, but, not of anything 
quite so cold-blooded. Shall you break your 
heart about such a so'.flah fellow ?” 
“ Indeed, uo I hut I am very angry." 
“ At whom?—him or me?” 
“ At both of you." 
I suppose I must havo looked terribly abashed 
and confounded ; I tried to, for she put a little 
hand on my arm, and then would havo swiftly 
withdrawn It, but I captured the frail thing and 
held it. 
“I suppose J ought to be very thankful to 
you," she said, struggling a little and blushing 
in the most lovely manner. 
“ If you will permit me, I will punish him for 
you,” I said, gravely. 
She looked up inquiringly. 
“ By marrying you !" 
“Oh !" 
“ Don’t you think It would ?” I asked. 
“ Perhaps." 
We were quite sure of it the first time we 
chanced to meet Bentley after our marriage. 
His face was ns good as a picture. 
- *■■*■■* - 
THE BRIDAL TOUR. 
Yoitno Sprlggies and his Aramanth* Jane 
had Just, boen married and were going upon 
their bridal tour. They didn't know whether 
upon their return they would board with the 
“old folks" or take rooms In a private hotel. 
Being only a clerk, Sprlggies’ means were 
limited, and he could not expect much at first. 
In the way of living. 
“ Of course,” lie said to Dodge, a wealthy 
member of the firm who hud kindly granted 
him n throe weeks’ leave of absence," we must, 
be in style, you know, sir. I suppose you took 
a rusher when you wore married. I mean you 
took an extensive and showed your wife tho 
sights." 
“Yes," said Dodge, with a nod. “I will tell 
you about It. I made long preparations for my 
bridal tour, and the girl that waa to be my 
wife helped me. We had it all fixed and laid 
out beforehand. I worked hard for It, and 
she worked too. It was tho grand event of our 
lives, and we wanted that it should be a 
success. We felt that as the new life opened 
bo It should continue. I was earning $500 n 
year. That was good pay for a salesman five 
and thirty years ago—better than three times 
that, amount now, os things go. We were 
married In the morning at tho house of my 
wife’s father. Then we rode two miles to the 
substantial cottage I had secured as a home. 
My money had nfcde the first payment on It, 
and Mary’s money had furnished three rooms 
in it. 
“And wc eat our first meal thereafter In our 
own house; and I thence went to my work, 
and my wife set about her work. It was a 
new life nnd we were determined to succeed if 
possible. And in that effort was our joy. And 
In the success that followed was unalloyed 
happiness. In loss than three years my house 
was paid for and inv home was my own. Come 
storm or come sunshine ivc had a roof to cover 
us—a roof from which the hand of man could 
not turn us. 
“I doubt, young man, If ever a bridal tour 
was happier or more profitable than was mine; 
and I know that the exercise of housekeeping 
upon her own account was invigorating and 
healthful. But, then we married for real earn¬ 
est living and loving. We believed we should 
find life’s purest Joys in the discharge of life’s 
sacred duties. 
“I declare," pursued the old man, with a 
glistening moisture in his eye, “ I should like 
those first blest days of my own home-life to 
live over again. But It may not be. And," he 
added, with a regretful shake of the head, “I 
fear the young men of the present generation 
will not live them for my viewing." 
Sprlggles walked away scratching his head. 
He wasn’t sure that ho had really caught, the 
drift of the old man’s remarks. 
-- 
WHAT IT COSTS TO LIVE. 
VamjaB t-E statistics In regard to tho compar¬ 
ative cost, of living in America and Europe are 
given in tho last “ Massachusetts Labor Re¬ 
port:” “One dollar will buy twenty pounds 
cf flour In Boston, one or two more in some 
European seaports, but the same arc considera¬ 
bly leas In a majority of tlm place- compared. 
In Boston, $1 will buy 6.150 pounds r.f fresh beef, 
roast, piece. In no place in England will it buy 
as much by a pound or more, and in Europe 
still less, ('openbarren being the only place it 
will buy more. Butter in Europe averages a 
pound morn to tho dollar than hero, cheese 
less by more than that except, in a fevr spots. 
As for potatoes, they are cheaper hero than in 
England, and dearer than in Ireland or Ger¬ 
many. Seven or eight pounds of pork are sold 
here for a dollar, and not much over half ns 
much can be obtained for that sum in Euroro 
or England, and nowhere as much. In rice, 
milk and eggs they have tho advantage ol us. 
Tea costs less hero than in England, but. more 
on tho Continent. With coffee It Is about tlm 
same, though the difference is little. In sugar 
the British aro a little bettor off, tlm Conti¬ 
nentals a great deal worse. Coal is cheaper 
hero than In Germany, and dearer lhan in En¬ 
gland. Merrimae or common prints are cheap¬ 
er here than in England and Europe. Boots 
are about tho same here as there, generally 
speaking. There are but two or three places in 
England or tho Continent, wnnrc hrown sheet¬ 
ings are cheaper than here, while in brown 
shirtings tlm foreigners aro better off. Rent 
for four-roomed tenements Is from two to four 
times cheaper in Great Britain nnd on the Con¬ 
tinent than in Boston; in Australia, fifteen 
tlmps cheaper. Board also is from once and a- 
half to twice as cheap In Europe and in Groat 
Britain sis In Ronton.”—Washington Star. 
-- +-*■+■ - 
GOOD SOCIETY. 
A man of high position in the world made it 
a rule to associate with men of exalted minds. 
“Better for a hog among kings," says the 
homely old adage, “than king among hogs." 
Choose good company, or no company. Sir 
Thomas Fowoll Buxton often spoke of the 
preat benefit* lie had derived from his visits tc 
a particular family. Their words and example 
stimulated him to make the most orhis power*. 
“It has given a color of my wholo life," he 
said. Speaking of his success at t he universi! y, 
he remarked, “ I can ascribe It to nothing but 
my visits to this family, where I caught the 
Infection of self-improvement." Burcly, (four 
visits havo‘such an influence upon our charac¬ 
ters for life, it should be a matter of serious 
Importance to us in what families we allow 
ourselves to be it timate. Boys and girls form 
attacoraenta very easily, and often with very 
little forethought. In this, as in ail things else, 
you should not bill to take advice of those who 
aro older and wiser, and never, never choose 
fora friend one against whom you have been 
warned by those who dearly love you. There 
are people whose very presence seems to lift 
you up into a brttcr atmosphere. Choose such 
associates whenever it Is in your power, and 
the more you can live In thelrsooietv the better 
Tor both mind and heart. “ He that walketh 
with wise men shall be wise; but a companion 
of fools shall be destroyed.” 
A MATTER-OF-FACT MARRIAGE. 
Trig Rutland Herald says:—“One of our 
ministers had gotten about half way through 
“eleventh and finally," when he was called 
out by a young man In overalls and the rest, of 
the working-man's dress, who asked him if he 
was ready to perform a marriage. Certainly ho 
was; but had tho applicant a license? No, he 
hadn't; didn’t know about it, in fact. So the 
worthy parson and the happy groom strolled 
over to tho Town Clerk's office and procured 
the needed blank, after which the pair took up 
their course to a by-street, the groom still in 
work-day overalls, und with sleeves rolled up. 
Arrived at the residence of the other party to 
the bargain, tho blue overalls led the war In 
and summoned from tho tub a woman who 
was washing, with sleeves rolled up, dices pin¬ 
ned up, arid hair lied up. With no delay the 
bride dropped her skirls, rolled down her 
sleeves, dried hor hand* and steppod into ihe 
next room, where blue overalls stood up with 
her, and the minister pronounced tho words 
that mado them man and wife; whereupon 
the divine wont back to bis “eleventh,” the 
bride to her tub, and groom to his work." 
—-— 
Why Is It Impossible to have the last word 
with a chemist ? Because he always has a retort. 
Sabbath ^calling. 
FATE. 
Why should a mnn struggle early, late. 
When all he Is is fixed by Fate? 
For everything that comes and gees. 
Goes comes at its appointed date. 
The wind is measured as It blows, 
The grains of sand have each their weight. 
Only the fool can say ho chose 
The woman that Is now hie mate ! 
And so with friends and so with foes, 
The rising and the falling state. 
’Tls Idle to support, oppose. 
To open or to shut the gate. 
What is wc see: but no one knows 
What waa or will be. small or groat. 
Nothing Is certain but the close. 
And that Is lild from us by Fate ! 
|R. H. Stoddard. 
--- 
SHADOWS OF THOUGHT. 
BY M. B. HOFFMAN. 
Few people lake into consideration tho grand 
sublimity of thought, nnd fewer still give duo 
deliberation to tho propriety of Its expression. 
Many a criminal, a? ho in s *rrow pays tho deht 
of clinic, on reflection may trace to and prop¬ 
erly attribute, as the prime cause of bis present, 
condition, words and action* long since forgot¬ 
ten by the original notor. Thoughts of evil ten¬ 
dency, lightly uttered, are not soon forgotten. 
True, the effects will not always soon ho obvi¬ 
ous ; yet the nhiulnw la there, and tho more often 
thought, of tlm larger'twill grow as time rolls 
on, until it hasreaebert the proper magnitude 
to burst forth with all Ita horror and dismay. 
Wo can only estimate the extent of evil to which 
an Idlo thought, may toad by Sts probabilities; 
handed down from Bp to Up, who In imagina¬ 
tion can tell how many souls it may bo the 
means of sending unprepared to an endless 
eternity. Though taken advantage of by tho 
evil one for our destruction, It Is nevertheless 
evidently designed for a wise and good pur¬ 
pose to load us onward and upward. There 
seems to bo a grand object for implanting In 
ihe human family this great susceptibility to 
Impressions. 
The prayers of a mother live on the life of a 
child. He may go far Into sin, but he never 
can got wholly away from memory and the 
past. If in childhood he heard his mother 
plead with Christ for her lovod one’s soul, ho 
will always think his soul Is worth caring for. 
Hence the importance of allowing your chil¬ 
dren to hear you pray. Grow not impatient If 
the answer lie not obvious" Though you may 
not live to see the effect*;, the shadow is yet on 
memory’s wall and cannot ho erased. Many a 
one, ufter spending a lifetime In sin, has finally 
been brought to repentance by tbo power of a 
mother’s prayer. The traces of the past may 
seem to havo all disappeared, but burled deeply 
front mortal vision t here still exist the vestiges 
of ail our acts, silent but speaking silhouettes 
of whatever wo have done. 
Howe’er this he. ’t.ls God’s decree. 
We cannot lire alone i 
No man ena fold his arms and say, 
“ My life Is all my own.” 
The life of each Is hound to all 
With co-ds we cannot sever— 
A ripple that shall never cease 
Upon Time’s mighty river. 
And like the pulse* of the tide. 
Or the atr which echoes still. 
So must tha words and deeds of each 
Tho lives of others fill. 
-»-»» 
SLOW TO SPEAK FOR CHRIST. 
A prominent New York publisher told us 
one day, that when ho casually remarked to a 
bookseller, who bad come on to the city from 
a distant part of the country’ to attend tho 
semi-annual trade sale, that they had often 
talked on business together, but never about 
tholr soul’s welfare, the heart of tue stranger 
overflowed with gratitude at the mere mention 
of religion, and said that he had long been 
waiting for some one to say a word that would 
lead him to Christ. He had Jong been almost a 
Chris tian, just on the threshold without going 
in. The result was, that the one word in sea¬ 
son led him into rest and triumph. When Liv¬ 
ingstone told tbe chief of a heathen tribe tho 
story *>f Christianity, tho latter replied, “ How 
long have you known this?" “Oh,” said tha 
traveler, “my fathers knew It." “Then why 
did they not tell rnc about It?" wa9 the re¬ 
sponse. The barbarian’s question, applies equal¬ 
ly well to Christian lands, where there are mul¬ 
titudes of people who have been many years in 
connection with the church, and yel have never 
manifested a personal Internal in the salva¬ 
tion of those nearest them in many relations.— 
MethodW. 
- »-*-4 - 
God' a ways seem very slow sometimes. What 
wo would soe done waits long for doing, and 
ive grow Impatient. But if we believe iu God 
we should possess our souls in patience. In 
His own good time everything will come right. 
-♦♦♦- 
He that follows the Lord fully will find good¬ 
ness and mercy following him continually. 
