OCT. 4© 
A NEW LITANY. 
From all the dread and nil the four, 
Of those who watch with eye and ear, 
Their neighbors’ faults to see and hear 
Good Lord deliver us! 
From all the pomp and pride innate 
Of little men who think they're great. 
While fools around them fawning wait. 
Good Lord deliver us 
From a'l the love and hate of those 
Who go around with turned-up nose,— 
Whose ouiy merit Is their clothes. 
Good Lord deliver us ! 
From all the girls with silly pate, 
ADOBE'S BUBAL 
school teacher for whom he had seemed to en¬ 
tertain quite a regard during the summer 
months. Nettie, more disgusted than ever, 
flounced out of her seat and disappeared, while 
our hero, left to his own thoughts, let them 
carry him down the road to a tiny school-house 
where probably at this moment a pale girl sat 
among a number of children, trying to bo pa¬ 
tient, and succeeding so far ns to go on gentlr 
and kindiy to the end of her day's duties. And 
who was she, this young teacher against whom 
Ned was cautioned by both mother and sister? 
NEW-YORKER. 
part of the way home. She rarely consented 
to let him walk with her, however, and In her 
intercourse with him never allowed the least 
approach to intimacy. She could not oonoeal 
from herself the fact that sho liked her new 
friend, who made his regard and respect for 
her so very apparent that it was certainly a de¬ 
lightful surprise to the lonely girl who received 
so few friends into her heart and thoughts. 
But slip would not forgot that while she was 
only a poor country school-mistress, be was 
the only son of a rich man, and well she guess¬ 
Lato In the afternoon of the day on which 
our story opens Nettie and her mother were 
slowly walking along tho road, Mrs. Clark's 
quick eyes dlscrylng here and there such Au¬ 
tumn-tinted loaves as she carod to preserve, 
while Nettie expressed her longings for tho 
comforts of their city homo once more. 
“ Where can my boy lie, I wonder?” exclaimed 
Mrs. Clark, vainly striving to pull down a 
branch of maple which hung out little red and 
green flags in gorgeous abundance. “Those 
leaves nro positively too lovely to ho left! If 
Ned had come with us he could have gathered 
I hem all,” she continued, while Nettie replied 
impatiently: “Oh ! you might know he’s down 
THE WOODEN HORSE.-(See Pugo 2<i3.) 
Who go abroad with mincing gait, 
When shallow swains upon them wait, 
Good Lord deliver us! 
From every girl who walks the street 
With Grecian bend and criunped-up feet. 
And thinks she is so very neat, 
Good Lord deliver us! 
From temperance men who talk so big 
How rummies' wheels they're going to trig,— 
Yet on the sly will take a swig, 
Good Lord deliver us! 
From every swell with swaggering gait, 
Who struts about with head elate. 
As though the world did on him wait, 
Good Lord deliver us! 
From every one who will pretend 
To be a Arm and faithful friend, 
That he may gain some selfish end, 
Good Lord deliver us! 
<§ur 
“CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES;” 
OR, COUNTRY AND CITY SCHOOL TEACHING. 
BY MARY D. BRINE. 
“Heigho! It is growing dull here, mamma; 
almost timo to leave these ‘rural districts,’ 
Isn't It?" 
The speaker, a stylish girl of eighteen years, 
leaned back lazily in her scat and toyed with a 
rich bracelet on her arm. They had been board¬ 
ing all summer in tho lovely little village of 
II-, at a fashionable hoarding house (which 
Just escaped tho name of ” hotel")—this young 
girl, her mother and brother and now the sea- 
sou was nearly over and crowds of city butter¬ 
flies had fluttered away from the peaceful coun¬ 
try sconos and habits to spreud their wings 
again amid fashion's follies and false pleasures. 
Mrs. Clark preferr d to remain awhile longer, 
and though hor daughter fretted somewhat at 
the delay, her son strangely enough yielded to 
bis mother's proposal with a sort of eagerness 
which caused his sister’s lip to curl more than 
once with disdain fur “ Ned's miserable taste." 
Mr. Clark, the rich broker and good-natured 
husband and fathor, had left his city home only 
at rare Intervals for a few days' recreation 
among the lulls, anil was now somewhat impa¬ 
tient to see his family again. There were signs 
of caro upon his brow, and many an hour of 
anxious thought of which his wife knew noth¬ 
ing, but which had she been with her husband, 
her wifely sympathy might have lightened. 
In reply to her daughter’s remark, Mrs. Clark 
laid down the novel she was reading and glanced 
about bor. ** Well, yes, Nettie," she said, ” it 
is about time, to bo sure ; but I have a genuine 
love for lingering among these hills as late as 
possible; the leaves are so beautiful when they 
turn, and the country Is gorgeous in her Au¬ 
tumn dres3, you know.” 
“Pshaw, mammal Sentiment from you I— 
how ridiculous! Wait till you have your usual 
attack of rheumatism, then where will your 
sentiments fly to!" answered Nettie, laughing 
impatiently. 
Good Mrs. Clark sighed. “O, yes, to be sure. 
Tho rheumatism and fall in the country never 
could agree in my case, I know. Well, dear, 
we’ll go back In a week, maybe, and—there 
comes Ned ; how long he's been gone !" 
Nettie looked up rather crossly at her broth¬ 
er as ho sauntered up the walk, swinging his 
cane and looking every bit tho handsome, 
noble-hearted fellow he was. “ You've been 
down by that horrid school-house again, Ned 
Clark,” she exclaimed, “ and you needn’t deny 
It, either! You ought to be ashamed of your¬ 
self, Ned!" 
The young man looked from mother to sister 
laughingly, and tossing his bat on the piazza 
floor, stretched himself leisurely beside his 
mother, who stroked the broad forehead aud 
gently said " My son must not forget the dif¬ 
ference between this young teacher's station 
and your own. I want you to be always cour¬ 
teous, of course, Ned dear, but I am anticipat¬ 
ing somebody very grand and well fitted to 
adorn our circle for my boy’s wife. So don’t 
go too far and raise hopes in this girl’s heart 
that can never be realized, my son." 
Nkd replied petulantly, “ O, this everlasting 
pride, pride, pride! As i£ money were all to be 
desired In life! Mother, between you and Net¬ 
tie, I shall one day become a victim to some 
starched doll, who, as long as she can count hor 
hundreds, will consider tho simple matter of 
possessing heart and brains quite unnecessary. 
Let me alone. I won't disgrace you, hut I’m 
going to decide for myself in tho matrimonial 
market, you may believe!” 
Mrs. Clark resumed hor novel, nor troubled 
herself further concerning Ned and the young 
Mrs. Brooks, the good-natured proprietor of 
tho “ Brooks House,” informed people who had 
taken the trouble to notice the stylish young 
figure which passed down the road each day 
before nine o’clock, that she was an “ Ol'phlng, 
who had coma from some city away off the year 
afore, and was now living at Farmer Jones', 
who wns one of the committee men of theskule 
she was a toachin* a!.." And that was all Ned 
Clark or any else could find out about the girl. 
But for some reason unexplainable to him¬ 
self (let alone Ids mother and sister) the young 
fellow could not lose nls interest in the sweet- 
faced young teacher who daily passed the 
Brooks House on her way to the little red 
building nestling among the trees further down 
the road. And one morning he ventured to 
sauuter down to tho school-house himself, hop¬ 
ing chance would favor him with an introduc¬ 
tion to tho lady (for ladyshewas, notwithstand¬ 
ing her well-worn clothing and rather poor 
appearance.) If Elsie Waring saw him com¬ 
ing she gave no sign of It, but remained quietly 
at her desk and appeared to be absorbed in eor- 
reotliigill-written exercises. Ned Clark, with 
all the dash and impulse of a college student 
generally, approached the low, balf-epen door, 
and raising bis hat inquired tho way to-well, 
a road that, truth to tell, lie was already per¬ 
fectly familiar with—the rogue! A low, sweet 
voice answered him, and Elsie Innocently 
stepped to tho door beside him to point the 
way. The children from their desks saw, if El¬ 
sie did not, tho respectful glance of admiration 
which the gentleman turned upon their teacher 
as, bidding her adieu with thanks, he took his 
leave; but nobody knew that with a gladdened 
heart and a sly laugh the young man turned 
Into a clump of bushes and took a short cut 
over the meadows back to the Brooks House, 
longing for another talk with the young aohool 
teacher whose dark eyes fairly haunted him. 
This was the beginning of their acquaintance. 
In a thousand different ways the handsome 
fellow managed to meet and talk to Elsie 
Waring, either during the rcces3 when her 
noisy pupils rushed out for (iftccn minutes re¬ 
creation from their hard study over primmer 
exercises, (poor t,hlug6)! or else at such times 
as he could gain her uonseut to accompany her . 
ed how easily Mrs. Grundy, even in that peace¬ 
ful village, could wound and stab with a cruel 
tongue. If opportunity wore given. So she 
| held herself rather distantly, and by her quiet 
dignity increased yet more Ned’s Infatuation. 
Ami so tho summer had passed. Little by 
little Ned’s heart yielded Itself to this un¬ 
known girl, who never betrayed In word or 
deed her knowledgeof his feelings, or gave the 
slightest token that to her lie was more than 
a valued friend who had, because of his con¬ 
stant, unvarying kindness and courtesy, won a 
right to her deepest, regard and friendship. 
Ned was expecting to return to college for one 
more year, after which he anticipated a season 
of enjoyment across tho waters. All this he 
told Elsie at different times during their walks 
or noonday snatches of conversation, and she 
had enoouraged him to consider this life as 
something more than a va t playground where 
men had but to fritter away the days in idle 
di earning. She roused him to thoughts ol’ tho 
(jood a true man can find to do, especially with 
tho power of wealth and station in which God 
had chosen to place Mm, and his hearL was 
filled with eager ambition for the future, 
which, owing to his being the spoiled and pet¬ 
ted child of wealthy parents, he bad scarcely 
entertained before. And all this time he was 
learning to love Elsie Waring with the whole 
strength of his heart, and only awaited an op¬ 
portunity to tell her so—which chance. It is 
needless to say, Elsie was careful not to allow. 
But what of her heart meanwhile! It was 
only as the summer’s death drew near, and tho 
various boarding houses were emptied of gay 
life, one after the other, that Elsie awoko 
from her unconscious dreaming to realize that 
with her friend’s depaituro more of joy and 
content would go out of her life than she would 
care to lose. And presently she owned to her¬ 
self that to be loved by Ned Clark, as she 
knew he loved her, was euough of happiness 
for any mortal In her opinion. Whether she 
would have granted herself that happiness f 
cannot say, but unfortuuately something oc¬ 
curred which threw her back, with a rude shock, 
upon her dignity again aud caused her to real¬ 
ize that betweeu berself and Ned Clark a 
wide gulf stretched blackly. 
round that school-house. I do wish, mamma, 
you would positively forbid his Intimacy with 
that girl who teaches there. It's so provoking 
to have his time wasted so, and lie ought to 
know ho never can dare to marry a person or 
her station!” 
“ Bless toy heart, child!" said her mother, 
” Ned can’t be so foolish as to offer himself. 
He Is merely flirting a bit; boys must do that, 
you know—ha, ha!" 
"It’s all very well to laugh," came tho an¬ 
swer, “ hut I’m disgusted with such actions." 
And the two ladles passed on, while in the 
small piece of woods which ran sl ing a little 
way with tho road, crunched Elsie Waring, 
whose ears had listened against her will to the 
conversation concerning herself. Poor girl! 
She had taken a short out home from school, 
her heart, filled with glad thoughts of some one 
who had Just left her, and to whom she had 
promised a meeting on the morrow, and was 
pausing to gather ferns when voices from the 
road reached her. So close, though nil unseen, 
were tho speakers, that bad Elsie moved she 
would have betrayed herself; so In agony she 
waited until they had disappeared, and then 
sinking to the ground sheeriod awhile silently. 
But her resolution was formed, and no matter 
what the result sho would abide by It. 
Tho next day when Ned called at. the school- 
house to claim the promised walk, to his as¬ 
tonishment Elsie excused herself from fulfill¬ 
ing hor promise, and remained firm In her re¬ 
fusal. Thon Nkd, whose feelings were beyond 
Ids control, passionately declared his love for 
her, and vowed, in vehement, language, that 
“«/te and none other would he choose for his 
wife in all the wide world!" Elsie listened 
sadly and gravely to all this, but when he ques¬ 
tioned her as to her feelings sho only answered 
t hat, "as a kind, sincere friend sho valued him 
and would never rorget hint, but beyond that 
she could say nothing to comfort him." 
"1 am going away, Elsie,” ho said—“going 
away to-morrow ; can't you give me one little 
word of hope ?" 
And Elsie, with a pale, grieved face, put out 
her hand and bade him “good by," with the 
wish that “all Ms life God would bless and 
keep her friend." Thou she turned away, lest 
he should see her tears, and kept hor sobs un¬ 
der her breath until her lover had gone. Ho 
never even guessed the. tears she shed then, all 
alone at tho school-room desk. He never even 
dreamed that ho had left in tho lonely school 
room a breaking heart which yearned for hi. t 
with tenderness unutterable. 
And so the summer died, and after a f< v 
weeks winter- ent Its herald to prepare for 1, s 
stern reign. Alas! before the winter had fairly 
taken possession of il,s throne, Ned and Nettie 
Clark wore made to roalize how floeting a 
thing life is, and to learn also what the sting of 
poverty can be to those who have been reared 
in luxury. Business troubles caused the death 
of their lather, and their mother followed soon 
after, struck down in the midst of health by a 
stroke of paralysis, in consequence of gilef 
and over-exbauatton. Thus the brother and 
sister were left to each other, and as sudden 
poverty befel thorn, they did Indeed need each 
other’s love aud sympathy. Ned, of course, 
had to look about for a situation for himself, 
while Nettie, forgetting her scorn fora teach¬ 
er’s calling, was obliged to strive for the posi¬ 
tion of dally governess, doubting meanwhile 
her ability to perform the duties of that posi¬ 
tion satisfactorily. But she couldn't do any¬ 
thing else any better, she knew, all unused as 
she was to labor. So day after day was given 
up to wearisome search and vain endeavors, 
uutil at last, one morning, Nettie asceuded 
the steps of an elegant mansion, A in, ,o owner, 
a widower, had one little child who required a 
governess’ care. The interview between Net¬ 
tie and tho gentleman was soon over, and she 
was engaged at a liberal salary, her duties, to 
be light and pleasant, commencing the follow¬ 
ing week. She carried the Joyful news home 
to her brother, and the knowledge that she 
was provided forgave him strength to go more 
lightly forward in pursuit of his own affairs. 
All day Nettie wondered where she had seen 
a face resembling that of a niece of Mr. Bab- 
Cley (the widower) who, during her intorvlew 
tint morning with the gentleman, had remained 
tu the room. Suoh. a sweet face it was, and the 
girl was so stylish and refined In her appear¬ 
ance. Had Nettie seen her before? “No," 
she thou, m, “it is only that sho resembles 
some one whom I have seen somewhere— I'm 
sure I can't remember where!” And at last 
sho forgot the matter altogether in busying 
herself with iter preparations for the new duties 
offered her. 
This Is what came to Ned the third day after 
Nettie's engagement. This is what he read 
with glad eyes and a be ling heart, while yet 
so surprised that he hardiv i. lized his good 
fortune: 
