34 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
And the Christchlld'e arms seemed reaching 
From above, the glad truth teaching. 
And the welcome Gospel preaching 
Of the Saviour's birth. 
All day Aunt Rachel bad been busy deco¬ 
rating her rooms with wreaths and berries, and 
now the evening drew near, bringing the hour 
of her guests’ arrival. Her sister and Bister’s 
children, and dear friends who always met each 
other In that snug little mansion, all were there, 
and none could read the happy secret bidden 
in Aunt RACHEL'S hoart. WlLLAliD tried bard 
to remember hlB t wenty-four years and his cap¬ 
tainship, but the boyhood la hlin bubbled out 
from eyee and Up9, and save for one memory 
hidden deep In his heart, and which only 
Auntie knew, he would have been the gayest 
of the gay. But It would never do, he thought, 
to let sadnesa cloud the happy hours of this 
Christmas time, when be had Just returned 
safely from a two-years’ voyogo and found his 
dear ones so well and happy. So he laughed 
and talked and Jested about his gifts, which 
still hung upon the mysterious tree securely 
locked In the back parlor. But the dock 
struck eight, and Aunt Rachel entered the 
room leading Wtm-ik Manning by the hand. 
“HallooI” shouted Hahrv, running up to the 
bewildered child, M you’ve cotno, have you ?— 
whore’s your sister?" Before the boy could 
reply the locked dour was unfastened and the 
grand Christmas tree stood resplendent before 
the guests. “ Willard," whispered his Aunt, 
“go into the library; your gift is there. It 
was too large for wrapping papers," site added, 
with something very like diamonds glistening 
In her eyes. 
Wonderlngly the young man obeyed, arul 
laughingly loft the parlor. Meanwhile Haiiky 
and ArtHUB plied Wilije with questions until 
the timid child almost cried. “Did yon get a 
present from your slater v Don't you wish you 
had a big brother like we have?” Ac,, Ac. And 
WHUE retorted with the only question he 
dared ask, “ Don't you wish you had a big Bister 
like I have?" And Aunt Bachel, stepping up 
behind, asked the children if they didn't, wish 
they were brothers, with a big sister and 
brother In the bargain. 
Willard went, to the library as directed, and 
found only a slender figure, and a sweet, pale 
face alone in the room. " Excuse me,” he 
said, “but Aunt Rachel told-why, Edith, 
Edith Mankind, Is it you ?" 
“It is 1, Willard!” Edith replied, “but 
this is a surprise to me, for—for—1 didn't know 
you —were—here—oh, Willard. Willard— 
take me close and do not lot mo go!" The 
tones grew faint and fainter, and but for the 
etrong, tender arms about her the girl would 
have fallen to the floor. 
When Aunt Rachel came, a little while 
afterwards, she found her two favorites enjoy¬ 
ing each their Christmas gift, after their own 
peculiar fashion, and indeod she felt decidedly 
tie trap. But the glad secret could not bo kept., 
and after the lovers had t hanked Aunt Rachll 
for her aid In bringing them together, and after 
t hat lady had acknowledged her cross-question- 
ingof the two at different, times, to mean rather 
more than perhaps the impertinence they had 
at the time considered It,she led the two young 
poople back into the lighted parlors, and pre¬ 
sented Willie with a “big brother,” and 
Harry and Arthur with a “big sister,” and 
then called her guests to supper. 
There have been many glad Christmas seasons 
since then, but no gifts were ever half so pre¬ 
cious as the two given by Aunt. Rachel on this 
particular Christmas, when heart was restored 
to heart, and the clouds rolled back to give 
place to sunshine. 
THE SKATER AND THE WOLVES. 
A PERILOUS ADVENTURE IN CANADA. 
SEE ILLUSTRATION ON PRECEDING PAGE. 
During the winter of 1844 l bad much leisure 
to devote to the sports of a new country. To 
none of these was I more given up than to 
skating. The lonely lakes, frozen by the intense 
cold of a Northern winter, present a wide field 
ro The lovers of this pastime. Often would I 
bind on my skates and glide away up the glit¬ 
tering river. Hometlmes I would follow the 
track of a fox or otter and run my skates along 
the mark be had left with his dragging tail, 
until the trail would enter the woods. Some¬ 
times these excursions were made by moon¬ 
light; and it was on one of these occasions 
that I had an adventure, which eveu now l can¬ 
not recall without a nervous feeling. 
I had left my friend’s house uue evening juat 
before dusk, with the intontiou of skating a 
short, distance up the noble river which glided 
before the door. The night was beautifully 
clear. A peerless moon sailed over the fleecy 
clouds, stars twinkled from the sky and from 
even - frost-covered tree in millions. Light 
also name glinting from ice, and snow-wreath, 
and encrusted branches, as t he eye followed for 
miles the broad gleam of the river, that like a 
jeweled belt swept between the mlgbtv forests 
on its banks. And vet all was still. The cold 
seemed to have frozen tree, and air, and every 
living thing. Even the ringing of my skates 
echoed back from the hill wirh startling clear¬ 
ness. 
I had gone up the river nearly two miles, 
when, coming to a little stream which empties 
Into the larger, I turned to explore its course. 
Fir and hemlock of a century’s growth met 
overhead and formed an archway radiant with 
frost-work. All was dark within; but I was 
young and fearless, and as I peered into an un¬ 
broken forest that reared itself on the borders 
of the stream, I shouted with very joyousness. 
My hurrah rang through the woods, and I stood 
listening to the &cbo that reverberated again 
and again, until all was hushed. Suddenly a 
sound arose — It seemed to me to come from 
beneath the ice; it was low and tremulous at 
first, but it ended In one long, wild yell. I was 
appalled. Never before had such a noise met 
my ears. Presently I heard t’>e brushwood on 
shore crash, as through from the tread of some 
animal—the blood rushed to my forehead—my 
energies returned, and I looked around me for 
some means of escape. 
The moon shone through the opening of the 
mouth of the creek by which I had entered the 
forest, and, seeing this to bo my one means of 
escape, l darted toward It. It was hardly a 
hundred yards distant, and the swallow could 
scarcely have excelled ton in flight; yet, as I 
turned my head to the shore, I could son two 
dark objects dashing through the brushwood 
at a pace nearly double in speed to my own. 
By the great speed and the short yells which 
they gave I knew at. once that these were the 
much-dreaded gray wolves, f had never mot 
with these animals; but, from the description 
given of them, I had little pleasure In making 
their acquaintance. Their flerconeBs and un¬ 
tiring strength render them objects of dread t o 
every benighted traveler. With their long gal¬ 
lop they pursue their prey, never straying from 
the track of their victim; and though, perhaps, 
the wearied hunter thluks that he baa at last 
outstripped them, he finds that they have but 
waited for the evening to seize their prey. 
The bushes that skirted the shore flew past 
me as I dashed on in my flight to pass the nar¬ 
row opening. The outlet was nearly gained—a 
few seconds more and 1 would bo comparative¬ 
ly safe; but in a moment my pursuers appeared 
on the bank above me, which bore rose to the 
bight of ton feet. There was no time for 
thought—I bent my head and dashed forward. 
Tim wolves sprang, but, miscalculating my 
speed, they fell behind me, while their intend¬ 
ed prey glided out upon the river! 
Of course I turned toward home. The light 
flakes of snow spun front the iron of my skates 
and I was some distance front my pursuers, 
when their fierce bowl told me they were after 
me still. I did not, look back ; I did not feel 
afraid, or sorry, or glad—one thought of home, 
of the bright faces awaiting my return, and of 
their tears If they never should sec mo, and 
then all the energies of body and mind were 
exerted for escape. Every half minute a furi¬ 
ous yelp from my fierce foes made me certain 
that they were in close pursuit. Nearer and 
nearer they came—nt, lost 1 heard ’h<•<> feet 
pattering on the lee T even beard their snuf¬ 
fing scent. Every nerve and muscle of my 
frame was stretched to the utmost tension. 
The trees along the shore seemed to dance In 
an uncertain light, and my brain turned with 
my own breathless speed ; yet still my pursu¬ 
ers seemed to hiss forth their Ineath with a 
sound truly horrible, when an involuntary mo¬ 
tion on my part, turned mo out of my course. 
The wolves, close behind, unable to stop, and 
as unable to turn on the smooth ice, slipped 
aud fell, still going on far ahead. Their tongues 
were lolling out; their white fangs were gleam¬ 
ing from their mouths: their dark, shaggy 
breasts were flecked with foam, and ns they 
passed me their eyee glared and they howled 
with fury. The thought flashed on my mind 
that by this means I could avoid them—name¬ 
ly, by turnlDg aside whenever they came too 
near; for. by the formation of their feet, they 
are unable to run on Ice, except in a straight 
line. 
I Immediately acted upon this plan. The 
wolves having regained their feet, sprang di¬ 
rectly toward me. The race was renewed for 
twenty yards up the stream; they were already 
close on my back when I glided round aud 
dashed directly past them. A fierce yell greet¬ 
ed my evolution, and the wolves, slipping on 
their haunches, sailed onward, presenting a 
perfect picture of helplessness and baffled rnge. 
Tims I gained nearly a hundred yards at each 
turning. This wan repeated two or three times, 
every moment the animals becoming more ex¬ 
cited. . 
Atone time, by delaying my turning too long, 
the wolves came so near that, they threw their 
white foam over my dress as they sprang to 
seize me, and their teeth clashed together like 
the spring of a fox trap. Had my skates failed 
for one instant,—had I tripped on a stick, or 
had my foot been caught in a fissure of the ice, 
—the story I am now telling would never have 
been told. 
But I soon came opposite the house, and my 
hounds—I knew their deep voices—roused by 
the noise, bayed furiously from their kennels. 
T heard their chains rattle; how I wished they 
would break them !—theu T should have had 
protectors to match the fierce denizens of the 
forest. The Wolves, taking the hint convey or] 
by the dogs, stopped in their career, and after 
a few moments turned and fled. 1 watched 
them until their forms disappeared over a 
neighboring hill ; then, taking off my skates, I 
woiided my way to the house, with grateful 
feelings for my preservation. But even yet I 
never see abroad sheet of ice by moonlight 
without thinking of that snuffing breath and 
those fearful wolves that followed me 60 closely 
down that frozen river. 
WHY THE BUTTER DIDN’T COME. 
They have a new hired girl over at Keyser's 
farm, just outside of Newcastle, and on Tues¬ 
day, before starting to spend the day with a 
friend, Mrs. Keyser Instructed the girl to white¬ 
wash the kitchen In her absence. Upon return- 
I Ing, Mrs. Keyset' found the job completed in a 
j very satisfactory manner. On Wednesdays 
Mrs. Key er always churns, and last Wednes¬ 
day when she was ready she wont out, and find¬ 
ing that Mr. Keyser had already put the milk 
into the churn, she began to turn the handle. 
This was at eight o'clock In tbe morning, and 
she turned until ten without any sign of hot¬ 
ter appearing, Theu she called In the hired 
man and be turned until dinner time, when ho 
knocked off with some very offensive language 
addressed to the butter which had not yet 
come. After dinner the hired girl took hold of 
the crank and turned it energetically until (,wn 
o'clock, when she lot go, with the remark 
which conveyed the Impression that she be¬ 
lieved the churn to be haunted. Then Mr. 
Keyser came out and said he wanted to know 
what was tho matter with that churn, anyhow. 
It was a good enough churn. If poople only 
knew enough to work It. Mr. Keyser then 
worked the crank until half-past three, when, 
as tho butter bad not come, ho surrendered It 
again to the hired man, because he had an en¬ 
gagement. in tho village. The man ground tbe 
machine to an accompaniment of frightful Im¬ 
precations. Then tho Keyser children each 
took a turn for‘half an hour, then Mrs. Keyser 
tried her hand, and when she was exhausted 
the hired girl, who said [her prayers while she 
turned. But the butter didn't come. Whets 
Keyser came home and found the churn still In 
action, he blasted his eyes ai d did some other 
innocent swearing, and then lie seized tins 
handle and said lin'd make the butter come If 
lie knocked up an earthquake In doing It. Mr. 
Keyser effected about 1300 revolutions of tbe 
crank a minute, enough to have made any or¬ 
dinary butter coino from the ends of the earth; 
and when the perspiration began to stream 
from him mid still the butter didn’t come, he 
uttered one wild yell of rage and disappoint¬ 
ment and kicked tho churn over the forioo. 
When [Mrs. Keyser went to pislt It up she put 
her nose down close to the buttermilk and took 
a sniff. Then she understood how it was. The 
girl had mixed the whitewash in the churn and 
left it. there. A good, honest and intelligent, 
servant who knows how to churn can find a 
situ atlori at Keyser's. There Is a vacancy. 
--— 
WHERE DID COLUMBUS LAND’ 
<$alrkth Reading. 
NEW-YEAR’8 WISHES. 
BY E. A. 8. 
I wmn to all a Happy Now-Year— 
Grim Want afar off, and Friendship near, 
Love's links to blurt, In a firm, happy band. 
Kach household circle throughout every land. 
Mar Benevolence reign, with her smilingfaoe. 
Over the rich man's dwelling-place. 
Opening the door to Poverty's sigh, 
With the assurance that relief is nigh. 
Knter the dark lanes, and lowly door 
That leads to the homes of the squalid poor,— 
Give from her store here and there a mite, 
To render some sufferer’s burdens light. 
For the diligent hand may employment be found— 
May Peace have full sway, and may Plenty abound ; 
And oh, may the coming year be so spent 
As to give Imck tenfold the talents God lent I 
Toronto. Canada. 
IS IT WORTH .WHILE T 
And is it worth while to take all tho sun¬ 
shine out of life for the : akeof a few miserable 
dollars? Meat, and groceries and coal and cloth¬ 
ing arc not all of life. If wo re?! rict ourselves 
to those, and shut out iuii-dc un<] pictures, and 
the hundred things that cultivate tho aesthetic 
side of our nature, we shall bo economical at 
the cost of dwarfing our tnor.il and intellectual 
nature. And afterwe bavedone this for a long 
scries of years, and so reached middle age with 
a fair tofclatic* In fh« bank, we shall Ihe-. find 
ourselves unfitted to enjoy tho pleasure t that 
money will buy. We shall have kept tho flinty 
road so long that when wo finally turn Ido 
into the groves and the brook-side, our eyes 
will be In no condition to see the beauties 
around us. Is it not hotter to live while we do 
live, to give some brightness and color to our 
daily lives, even If by an doing wo fail to In¬ 
crease our hoarded savings quite ns rapidly as 
we otherwise might. Is economy quite worth* 
the sacrifice of everything that makes life other 
thanadull and dismal drudgery? A wise ex¬ 
penditure of money for the good things of life 
is really the best econom". 
- - - 
LIVE FOR SOMETHING. 
Harper's for November has an article on 
the Bahamas, which says:—" In all probability, 
it was not Cat Island which Columbus named 
San Salvador, but Wat Hug's Island—a smaller 
Isle a little more to the southward and east¬ 
ward. The facts tn the case are these:—Con¬ 
trary, probably, to the general opinion, it. has 
never been definitely known which was the 
island entitled to tho henerj but about fifty 
years ago, when historians were busy with the 
history of Columbus, they undertook to settle 
the question by comparing his Journal wit h the 
imperfect charts of the Bahamas then existing. 
Navarette fixed on Turk's Island, which later 
investigation has proved to be erroneous, while 
Irving, supported by the strong authority of 
Humboldt, argued for Cat Island, and since 
theu this haa been generally accepted as Run 
Salvador, and is so designated on our charts to 
this day. 
“But the English reversed their opinions 
some time ago, and transferred the uatne of 
San Salvador to Watllng'a Island, aud It will be 
so found on their latest charts. The reasons 
for this change eecm conclusive. Lieutenant 
Beecher, of the English navy, proves conclu¬ 
sively that Cat Island cannot be San Salvador, 
and that Watllng's Island answers the condi¬ 
tions required better than any other Island 
lying in the track of Columbus. His two 
strongest reasons against Cat Island are that 
Columbus states that he rowed around tbe 
northern end In one day. The size of Cat Is¬ 
land makes this physically impossible there, 
while it is quite feasible at the other Island. 
He also speaks of a large lake in the interior. 
There is no such water on Cat Island, while 
such a lake does exist, on Walling’s Island." 
-*-♦«.- 
MEN OF LITERARY GENIUS. 
■e »♦ 
Avail yourself of all your knowledge with¬ 
out making a display of it. The machinery 
works best that is hidden from view. 
Tasso's conversation was neither gay nor 
brilliant. Dante waa neither taciturn nor sa¬ 
tirical. Butler was sullen or biting. Gray sel¬ 
dom talked or smiled. Hogarth and Smith were 
very absent minded in company. Milton was 
very unsociable, and even irritable when press¬ 
ed into conversation. Klrwan.though eoploos 
and eloquent io public addresses, was meager 
and dull In colloquial discourse. Virgil was 
heavy in conversation. La Fontaine appeared 
beaw, coarse and stupid : ho could not speak 
and describe what, he had just seen: but then 
he was the mode! of poetry. Chaucer’s silence 
was more agreeable than his conversation. 
Dry den's conversation waa slow and dull, his 
humor aa’iirnine and reserved. Corneille, in 
conversation,was so insipid that be never failed 
In wearying; he did not even speak correctly 
that language of which be was such a master. 
Ben Johnson used to Fit silent.in company and 
suck his wine and their humors. Southey was 
stiff, sedate and wrapped up in asceticism. Ad¬ 
dison was good company with bi6 intimate 
friends, but in mixed company he preserved 
bis dignity bv n stiff and reserved silence. Fox 
In conversation never flagged, his animation 
and variety were Inexhaustible. Dr. Rent'.ev 
was loquacious, so also was Grot his. Goldsmith 
“wrote like an angel and talked like poor 
Poll.” Burke was entertaining, enthusiastic, 
and interesting in conversation. Curran waa a 
convivial deity. 
Yks, live fur something worthy of life and its 
capabilities and opportunities, for noble deeds 
and achievements. Every man and every 
woman lias Ills or her as ignment iu tho duties 
and responslbiiitltv. of daily life. V*c are in tho 
world to make the world better; to lift it up to 
higher levels of enjoyment and progress, to 
make its hearts and homes brighter and hap¬ 
pier by devoting to our fellows our best 
thoughts, activities, and influonce. It is the 
motto of cverj’ true heart., and t ho genius of 
every* noble Jifo. that “no man liveth to him¬ 
self"— lives chiefly for his own selfish good. 
It Is a law of our Intellectual and moral be¬ 
ing that we promote our own happiness in tbe 
exact proportion we contribute to the comfort 
and enjoyment of others. Nothing worthy of 
tli© name of happiness is possible In the ex¬ 
perience of those who live only for themselves, 
all oblivious of the welfare of their fellows. 
OLD FATHER TIME. 
TimeJ waits for no man; it travels onward 
with au even, uninterrupted, inexorable step, 
•without accommodating itaelf to tbe delays of 
mortals. Thereet,,ests hours pureuo their course; 
moments press after moments; day treads upon 
day; year rplls after year. Does man procrasti¬ 
nate? Is he listless or Indolent? Behold tuo 
days, and months, and year?, unmindful of Ids 
delay, and never sluggish, but march forward 
!u silent and Aoiema procession. Our labors 
and toils ; our Ideas and foedngs, may be sus¬ 
pended by sleep ; darkness and silence and 
death may reign around us, but Time is beyond 
the power of any human being besides Omnip¬ 
otence. Tbe clock may cease to strike, the sun 
to shine; but the busy hours pass on. The 
months and years must continue to move for¬ 
ward. 
-- 
DO RIGHT AND LOVE GOD. 
Do right for right’s sake, love God and good¬ 
ness because they are good. The soul seems to 
awake from deatn at such archangel’s call aa 
this, and mortal man puts on his rightful im¬ 
mortality. Tho prodigal grovels no longer, 
seeking for happiness among the husks of 
pleasure; but “coming to himself,” he arises 
and goes to bis Father, heedless if It lie but aa 
the lowest of bis servants he rnay yet dwell be¬ 
neath that Father’s sm iIn. Hope and fear for 
this lift* or the next, mercenary bargaining and 
labor of eye-service for lure or honor, all .iro at 
an end; he Is a free man, and free shall be tho 
oblation of his soul and body, t he reasonable, 
holy and acceptable sacrifice. 
-re 
There is a floating idea iu the minds of roost 
of us, that great perils and great trials wnrk n 
sort of charmed chango in our liv This is 
seldom more than a delusion. Th < =.;-G! r. f 
life are for the most part slow';- > ned. The 
page Is often ear°! ssly turned and hurriedly 
passed by, on which our Great, Father has 
written muoh that He would tain Lave ua 
study. 
