21© 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
tbeslde of his dylngfrlend.audMablesatdown 
and wrote: 
Dkcemdeh 31st. 
Dear Ff.OTtYCome help me receive our 
friends to-morrow. Papa has been called away, 
nod I must have you with me, as I am particu¬ 
larly anxious to have r»v reception a success. 
Lovingly. Maukl. 
“Edgar likes Flory, I can bbo plainly, and I 
think she is not wholly indifferent to him. To¬ 
gether I think we can manage to have him here 
to-morrow, and thus save his mother a great sor¬ 
row, most likdy," said Mahel. 
Mabel Clifton was one of t he loveliest girls in 
P-• Friends wondered lliat her heart bad 
not yielded to some of her many suitors. They 
did not know that she had no heart to yield to 
any of those who had sought It. The first sea- 
sop sho appeared in the select circle la which 
her father’s wealth and position placed her, she 
met Ernest Addison. He was a noble looking 
man, talented, with mind and heart alike filled 
with truo resolve. To Mablo he had been very 
Otteutlvc, and she grew to love him, feeling 
sure the lime was nr>t far distant when he would 
come t a tell her of his love. But months rolled 
by and lie spoke not. Gradually bis visits grew 
less frequent, until they coased. What it was 
that had eomo between his love and hers she 
could never think ; but she /fit perfectly sure 
that he did love her, and so, hoping that time 
would solve the mystery and bring a balm to 
her wounded spirit, sho watched and waited 
for the ooming. 
New Year’s day came beautiful and bright. 
Mabel and her friend, Flory, never looked love¬ 
lier. Mabel hud explained her wishes and fully 
infused her own spirit into her friend. It was 
impossible for any indifferent person not to 
feel their powers of fascination. To Edgar 
Livingston, one of their first guests, they wore 
quite irresistible. He lingered on, notwith¬ 
standing the many effort* of a young friend who 
accompanied him to draw kirn away. 
“Do stay and help us,” said Mabel, and when 
Flory'e beautiful eyes repeated the wish, Edgar 
yielded. 
Few, i f any, wont away from the Clifton man¬ 
sion dlssatl.slled. Everythinghcartcouli] desire 
or mind suggest, in the way of delicacies and 
luxuries of i heseasou. Mabel offered her guests. 
But, as her father had said, many tongues were 
busy speculating about it,and in a few hours it 
was widely known that Miss Clifton was giving 
a temperance recaption. Eagerly Mabel’s eyes 
sought the door on every new arrival of guests. 
Sne had hoped for the coming of one. But the 
hours passed, and when it grew late in the day, 
the hope faded, and almost died out. She had 
seated herself wearily in an arm chair when the 
same greeting that laid fallen on her ears so 
many times that day, “.Happy Now Year, Miss 
Clifton,” caused the bright light to return to 
her eyes, the beautiful flush to b*r face, as she 
rose to receive Ernest Addison. There was an 
expression in his line eyes, when he received 
from her the suspense of years. Her heart was 
bounding with new hope. Edgar Livingston had 
drawn Flory to the window. They were looking 
out on the passers by. Reeling along the side¬ 
walk, snouting and singing a drunken song 
came Edgar's friend of the morning. Flory 
turned from the sickening sight. Edgar fal¬ 
lowed, saying: 
But for you and Miss Clifton, I might have 
been one of that party.” And going to Mabel, 
he said : 
“Miss Clifton, your slumber to-night should 
be peaceful. You have not helped to cloud 
either brain or heart of any ; of your friends to¬ 
day. Accept my warmest thanks for having 
saved me from feeling both.” 
E I gar saw an expression in Ernest’s eyes that 
made him think it would be quite as agreeable 
to all parties l r he would take Flory back to the 
recess of the window, to the piano, nr anywhere 
out of hearing, just than. A few moments 
after his fine voice was blended with hers in a 
well chosen duet. Then Ernest told Mabel of 
the love that had boen hers over since ho knew 
her. 
“I came one night to lay my heart before you. 
You had many guests and offered them wine. 
You noticed not that I placed my glass un¬ 
touched on the table. I left early. I dared not 
woo the heart of one who held such a fearful 
temptation before me; why you will know 
when I tell you the terrible truth. My only 
brother went down to a drunkard’s grave, the 
woman he loved urging him on. For a time 
mother and r won him from the fatal passion. 
He was doing well. We believed he would ful¬ 
fill the bright promise of early youth. He grew 
to love a beautlfu' girl. Sho was wild and 
thoughtless, and one night, at a party, in her 
father * house, she urged him to drink. 'One 
glass. Eve y one but you takes wine,’ said she. 
He resisted. Sne taunted him about having to 
abstain entirely because he bad not the self 
oontrol to use wine in moderation. He yielded, 
accepted the fatal glass from her hand, and 
drank, first moderately, then on and on, in the 
old fearful way, until the end came—a mined 
life, nud a mother’s broken heart. Do you won¬ 
der that I fled from you?‘every hour since 
yearning to return, yet daring not. To-day I 
heard what you were doing. Earnestly thank¬ 
ing God that light had dawned upon you, I 
hastened here to lay my heart before the only 
woman I ever,loved. Will you bo*my wife, 
Mabel?” 
ner heart; was too full’ of Joy—she could not 
tell him in words how happy she was, but her 
littlo.hands Jay still in his. She raised her eyes 
a moment, and ho saw the love of years beam¬ 
ing there. He needed no answer. Judging 
from the low tones Into which the voices in the 
other room bad fallen, I think some other 
hearts must have found their mates. But the 
pairs wore separated, or rather re-joined by the 
return of Mr. Clifton, who entered, calling out : 
“ Mabel, dear, to me these rooms look rather 
dark. Let’s have the gas turned on if you 
please.” 
And when there was light enough for Mr. 
Clifton to look into his daughter’s eyes he saw 
a bright light shining thei e. Another moment 
when Flory came to greet him, he said with a 
smile: 
" All! I see why you young folks know noth¬ 
ing of the surrounding.darkness—guided by the 
light within. Well, have you had a pleasant 
day? " 
“A happy day, father ; there are no i egrets 
to Bteal in and mar it,” Mabel said, with a 
bright smile. 
“ I am glad of it—glad of your resolve, Mabel. 
How glad, you will know, when I tell you thu 
this morning I closed the eyes of a father whoso 
only son was away in some drinking saloon. 
How my heart ached for that father! And 
what a balm it wips to think at that time ray 
daughter was not holding the fatal glass to any 
young man,” said Mr. Clifton, his voice tremb¬ 
ling. 
Before another New Year's day, Mabel and 
Flory each presided over a home of their own, 
and t he happy remembrance of their reception 
isjnever clouded by the thought that they have 
added one drop to the cup of bitterness which 
so many wives and mothers, sisters ami brothers 
have to drink—the cup of sorrow which is so 
often prepared for thorn by sister women. 
-«-*-*- 
A LOVE STORY OF THE REBELLION. 
We were sitting in our room at the Glades 
JIol cl, in Oakland, McL, one day with a charm¬ 
ing lady who had dropped In on a visit. One 
of our windows looked into that of another 
room so placed by tbo projection of the main 
building that half of its interior could be seen. 
Wo were admiring a little chubby, biuc-cyod 
two-year-oln, white ns snow, who was pulling a 
bonnet to pieces and tossing out. the fragments, 
or dapping her little hands with delight as a 
train went thundering by. 
“Those rooms," said our fair visitor, “ have 
some very tender associations t or me.” 
“ Why so ? ” we ask ed. 
“ Well," sho answered, “ during the war the 
greater part of the hotel was seized by tbo 
Government as a hospital, and wo were crowd¬ 
ed into a few rooms. My sister and I had this. 
In that room whore Uiut little beauty is were 
two Union officers, one sink of the lover and 
the other oT a wound. It was hard to toll 
whether they wore slowly dying or slowly get¬ 
ting well. I never saw such ghastly skeletons 
to be alive. We were ‘secesh,’ and not modest, 
about It either, but still our hearts aclted for 
I ho poor young men, so ill, perhaps dying, far 
from friends and relatives.” 
“ It bothers ono to know how tills should be 
a hospital," we said, “ It was so far removed 
from active operations." 
“It was thought,” she answered, “ that tho 
mountain air of the glades would be more 
favorable to recovery than elsewhere, so this 
was made a hospital. Ono day one of these 
officers dragged himself to tho window, and 
under the impulse of the moment my sister 
asked if wo could do anything for them, and ho 
answered, gasping for breath, that a little 
chicken soup would save their lives. Chickens 
wore rare in those days—an army is hard on 
poultry. Tho men will work all night, after 
marching during tho day, to secure afew chick¬ 
ens ; so that while tho hospital nurses and phy¬ 
sicians had an unlimited supply of actual lux¬ 
uries in the way of wines, potted meats and 
cannod vegetables, they were without anything 
fresh. We knew whore a few chickens were 
hid in a cellar, by a neighbor, and we coaxed 
ono out of the owner, and after a deal of vexa¬ 
tious trouble, for at every turn we wore met by 
a ilxed bayonet and an insult, we got the soup 
ready, and as tho guard in Lite hail would not 
permit us to approach our patients, my sister 
attempted to hand the bowl to the officer In 
the window. Just as he was feebly reaching 
for it, and she stretohing herself half out to 
give it to him, a harsh, ugly voice below cried 
aloud. ’Look out there—poison.’ She nearly 
dropped herself, soup and ail. Drawing back, 
she hesitated a second, and then she took the 
spoon and began eating the broth. * Oh ! both¬ 
er,' cried the officer, ‘don't waste it in that 
way—I’m not afraid; ’ and so she gave him the 
soup. 1: seemed to revive them, and they con¬ 
tinued steadily to improve as day after day we 
supplied them with chicken broth until the 
cellar was empty. During this time we sat at 
the windows talking, and we sang to them— 
sang ‘ My Maryland ’ and ail the Southern songs 
we knew, until they were well enough to leave 
the hospital arid return to duty. They both 
seemed sorry to go, and lorced on us a quantity 
of hospital stores and some coffee, which last 
we ueeded sadly. Then one gave a ring and tho 
other a brooch as tokens of their kind feelings.” 
"And did they never return ? ’’ we asked. 
Ono did not, for, poor fellow, he was killed in 
thu very next battle In which ho ivas engaged. 
His companion wrote ns about it, and the 
writer insisted upon opening a correspondence 
with my sister; and soon his letters grew into 
love lotrers, and after a time they were en¬ 
gaged. Nearly a year subsequent to this our 
patient got. leave of absence, and came on to bo 
married. He put up at a hotel, and, will you 
believe it, our own brother, who was in the 
Confederate eervloe and knew nothing of my 
sister’s affair, led a band of guerrillas at night 
into town and captured his intended brother- 
in-law from his lied. Tills not only deferred 
the marriage, but deprived the young West 
Pointer of his promotion, that had been prom¬ 
ised for gallant services in the field. It was 
really aggravating, for exchanges had almost 
ceased, and it looked as if the lovers would 
have to wait until ‘this cruel war was over’ 
before they could be united.” 
“You should have appealed to Abraham 
Lincoln to give a married brigadier for an un¬ 
married lieutenant.” 
“We did better. Procuring passes, we went 
through tho lines and appealed to Jeff Davis. 
Jeff said he would put my brother's prisoner in 
his sister's keeping. They have been happily 
married those many years, lie is a brevet 
brigadier general now, and it all came of our 
nursing tho enemy In that room.” 
Here is the foundation of a drama superior to 
that given by Boucicault in “ Belle Lamar.”— 
Washington Capital. 
-- 
THE LANGUAGE OF THE HANDS. 
The London Saturday Review says that M. 
Desbarrolles in bis “Mysteries of t he Hand," a 
book in which lie gives tho rules which form 
tho basis of palmistry, divides hands into three 
sorts. The first sort have fingers with pointed 
tops ; the second, square tops; the thiru, spade- 
shaped tops. By spudo-shaped is meant Ungers 
that arc thick at tho cad, having a little pad of 
fi sh at each side of the nail. The first type of 
lingers belong to characters possessed of rapid 
Insight to things; to extra-sensitive people; to 
pious people whoso piety Is of the contempla¬ 
tive kind; to the impulftivc, and to all poets 
and artists in whom ideality is a prominent 
trait. The second type belongs to scientific 
people; to sensible, snlr-eoutaiuo 1 characters ; 
to most of our professional men, who steer 
between the wholly practical course that they 
of the spade-shaped fingers take and the too 
visionary-bent of the people with pointed Un¬ 
gers. 'I he third type pertains to those whose 
instincts arc,material: to tho people who have 
a genius for commerce and a high appreciation 
ol everything that lends to bodily ease and 
comfort; also to people of great activity. Each 
flngor, no matter what kind of hand, has one 
joint representing each of these. Thus, tho 
division of the linger which is types nearest the 
palm stands for the body (and corresponds 
with the spude-ahaped type), the middle divis¬ 
ion represents imlml (the square-topped), tho 
top, soul (ini! pointed), if tim top joint of the 
Unger he long. It denotes a character with much 
imagination, or ideality, and a loaning towards 
the tboorotlcal rat, or than tho practical. The 
middle part of the finger being large promises 
a logical, calculating mind—a common-sense 
person. The remaining joint long and thick 
denotes a nature that clings more to the luxu¬ 
ries than to the refinements of life. Things 
will present themselves to such a nature under 
a lower aspect, and utility will be accounted 
before beauty. 
-- 
A LORD AND A FISH. 
Aiioso tho distinguished officers who ac¬ 
companied Washington during thqRevolution¬ 
ary War were Maj.-Gen. Lord Stirling and Baron 
Steuben. 
Stirling was very proud of his title of " lord,” 
which gave him more outward distinction, 
though not more real respect, in tho Revolu¬ 
tionary army than it. would have dotie among 
the British regiments. The story is told that 
being present at the execution of a soldier for 
desertion, when the poor fellow cried out, 
“ Lord, have mercy ou me!” Stirling thought 
that he must he the lord meant, and exclaimed 
with warmth, "I won’t, you rascal! I won’t have 
tnercy on you I" 
Baron Steuben wa3 an excellent military 
officer, especially careful in looking after the 
drill and accouterments of his troops, but he 
never became a complete master of the English 
language, aud often made laughable mistakes. 
Dining one day with Gen. Washington at 
Dabbs' Ferry on the Hudson, the conversation 
turned on fishing, and the Baron remarked 
that fishing might be a fine thing for some 
persons, out not for him. He had tried it once, 
and after silting three hours in a boat in the hot 
sun, he had caught only two fish. 
“What kind of fish were they?” Inquired 
Washington. 
”1 am not sure, but I think one of them was 
& whale,” replied the Baron. 
“A whale, Baron, in the North River!” 
“Yes, I assure you, a very fine whale, was it 
not?" asked the Baron, appealing to one of his 
aides-de-camp. 
“An eel, Baron.” 
“I beg Your Excellency’s pardon, but 1 un¬ 
derstood the gentleman to say it was a whale.” 
-■» » » 
“MOTHER,” said little Ned one morning, 
after having fallen out of bed, "I think I know 
why I fell out of bed last night. It was because 
I slept too near whore I got in.” Musing a little 
while, as it in doubt whether he had given the 
right explanation, he added, “ No, that wasn’t 
the reason; it >va3 because I slept too near 
where I fell out.” 
) 
Sabbath Reading. 
ALICE CARY’S DYING HYMN. 
Earth, with its dark and dreadful ills. 
Recedes and fades nwuy; 
Lift up your heads, ye heavenly hills. 
Ye gateB of death, give tray! 
My soul is full of whispered song; 
My blindness Is iny sight. 
The shadows that I feared so long 
Are all alive with light. 
That while my pulses fnintly beat. 
My faith doe? so abound, 
I feel grow firm beneath tny feet 
The green, Immortal ground. 
That faith to me a courage gives. 
Low as the grave to go; 
I knew that my Redeemer lives— 
That I shall live I know. 
The palace walla I almost see 
Where dwells my Lord and King. 
O grave ! where Is thy victory ? 
O death! where Is thy sting ? 
extracts: from sermons. 
In a wonderful panorama exhibition of the 
Pilgrim's Progress, I remember one scene. It 
was a rude, uncouth cross. It rather repelled 
t han excited emotion, and I wondered as I saw 
the painting, why they should exhibit such a 
tiling as that. All the others were beautiful; 
it was without form or comeliness. As we 
were gazing, a light was suddenly thrown upon 
it, a little Him of gauze was raised, and. instead 
of this rude and rough picture, there was tho 
most sublime, exalted concept ion of the Cross 
Which I have ever scon In art. Now, what was 
there the second time that was not there tho 
first ?-V hat was added ? It was light —nothing 
but light. And if you do not understand the 
Bible, my dear brother, go home and ask God 
lo throw light upon it.—Rot. U. Tung , Sr. 
i have no faith in that, woman who talks of 
grace and glory abroud and uses no soap at 
home. Let the buttons hs on tho shirts, let the 
children’s socks he mended, Jet tho roast mut¬ 
ton be done to a turn, lot the house he as neat 
as a new pin, and the home be as happy as 
home can be; and then, when the cannon 
balls, and the marbles, and shots, and even tho 
grains of sand, are all in the box, even then 
there will be room for those little deeds of 
love and faith which, In my Master’s name, I 
seek of you who love His appearing. Serve God 
by doing common actions in a heavenly spirit, 
and then, if your daily calling only leaves you 
crack* and crevices of time, fill these up with 
holy service. To use the apostle's words, “ As 
we have opportunity, let us do good unto all 
men,”— Spurgeon, 
There are men that gather together their 
bags of gold and silver, and alt down and weigh 
and sound every ducat; and we call them 
misers. There are misers, also, of tho soul, 
that ring their virtues, and generosities, and 
truth-speakings, and good deeds. And t.ho 
most miserable of all miserable misers are these 
soul-misers, that are perpetually ringing the 
changes over their own little accumulations of 
virtue and attainment.—Her. If. TY. Beecher. 
If I were called to point, out the most alarm¬ 
ing sins to-day—those which ace most deceitful 
in their influence, and most soul-destroying in 
their ultimate effeots—I would not mention 
drunkenness with all its fearful havoc, nor 
gambling with its crazed victims, nor harlotry 
with its hellish orgies; but the love of money 
on the part of men, and the love of display on 
the part of women. While open vice sends its 
thousands; these fashionable and favored in- 
dulgencles send their ten thousands to perdi¬ 
tion. They sear the conscience, incrust the 
soul with an Impenetrable shell of worldliness; 
debauch the affections from every high and 
heavenly object; and make man or woman the 
worshipper of self. While doing all this, the 
poor victim is allowed by public opinion to 
think himself or herself a Christian; while the 
drunkard, the gambler, or the prostitute, Is not 
deceived by such a thought for a moment.—Dr. 
Howard Crosby. 
There is many and many a candle that will 
burn discreetly in a room where the air is still, 
which if you take it into the wind, flares and 
flutters aad burns every way but the right way; 
and there are many Christians that are able to 
have the pure flame of Christian life burn 
steadily, if you only shield them, but that, if 
you move them about and bring them in con¬ 
flict with each other In circumstances of temp¬ 
tation, show tbeir weakness of Christian feel¬ 
ing.—Ret. H. w. Beecher. 
Most people need all the strength which a 
high-toned public opinion can give them to 
keep them true to their conscience and tbeir 
God: and that opinion is partly formed by 
what we do and what we are. Strive earnestly, 
then, to order your life with a w r ise simplicity. 
Be frugal in the shows, and generous in the 
substance of life. Set the example so greatly 
needed, of wholesome moderation. Show that 
you care for character above all else.—Ret). IT. 
W. Foote. 
They who once engage in iniquitous designs 
miserably deceive themselves wnen they think 
that they will go so far and no farther; one 
fault begets another, oue crime renders another 
necessary: aud thus they are impelled contin¬ 
ually downward into a depth of guilt, which at 
the commencement of tbeir career they would 
have died rather than have incurred. Southey. 
