MOORE’S RURAL ftEW-YORKER. 
“HELP, OR WE PEKISH!” 
— 
BT I. W. SANBORN. 
Hark ' the cry comes nearer, nearer, 
And louder, loiidor rings the call: 
Help, oh I help us, or we perish. 
Hear it, heed It, ono and all. 
It is wafted o'er tho mountains. 
And Jn print It finds display. 
That our Western bravo and fair ones 
Are in need of help to-day. 
’Tis a fact that comes repeated 
From the pnrents, children, there, 
Many’ll suffer. If not famish, 
But for timely aid and care. 
Let us then .Just noio remember 
With open hearts and ready hands. 
The earnest plea for those who suffer 
On our Wostern prairie lands. 
- 
®ur J$targ-®^r. 
— - -- ■ _ 
j OLD CALEB’S REPARATION. 
j A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. 
BT O. S. ADAMS. 
[Concluded from page 113, last No.] 
CHAPTER I I I. 
There was a loud knock at the office door of 
Mr. Timotiit Flint, lawyer. Mr. Flint was a 
man of business. Ho was a hard-featured, gray¬ 
haired gentleman, with a look of compactness 
and respectability. Ho was short, rather ro¬ 
tund, with a full face, but thin, firmly-cut lips. 
He had an air of ooraposure and an expression 
I of sternness. Ills blno eyes were cold and cal¬ 
culating; yet one could not help wondering if 
they wero always so, for there seemed to be a 
i warmth arid humanity behind them, notwith¬ 
standing tho veil of frigidity that was always so 
studiously worn. When the loud, abrupt knock 
sounded, Mr. Flint said In an even, undisturbed 
tone, “Como in." 
A boy who lookod like a juvenile ogre bound¬ 
ed In. His face waa red, his clothes were dlsor- 
| dcrod, and ho panted furiously. 
“Old Caleb!” he gasped. 
“ Well,”said Mr. Flint, lookingathim coldly. 
“He’s almost chawed to pieces! You must 
come to him.” 
“ What did you say?” 
“Oh. hurry up, sir. His dogs has almost ’et 
him up alive I" 
“ Young man, what do you mean ?” 
“Jest wbat, J says, sir. But please don’t stop 
to ask no more questions. Jf.mm v CniNK lk has 
gone for the doctor. Como on, sir, cotno on.” 
11 Did Old Ca leu send for mo ?” 
“ Yes, sir, yos. And he couldn’t only jest 
speak. I’leaso hurry.” 
“Well, well. You make too much noise. I 
will go with you.” 
Mr. Flint donned his overcoat, hat and gloves 1 
with methodical deliberation and followed tho 
boy. Ou arriving at tho domicil of Old Caleb, 
ho found an excited crowd assembled beforo 
tho door and two policemen maintaining order. 
1 Pass in, sir,” said one of them, recognizing 
him. 
Tie stepped In at tho door and a sight mot his ' 
view which almost startled him from his self- 
poise. Two dogs lay in onecorner. whining and 
growling. One of them had a cut over tho eye, 
and both ssemed unable to arise. A physician 
was bending over a cot on which lay a man I ] 
wounded and bleeding. The physician was i 
working with haste, but carefully. lie glanced i 
up and nodded as Mr. Flint entered. 
“ What is all this?" asked the latter. , 
“ His dogs attacked and nearly killed him," < 
replied the physician in a low voice. ] 
“How came they to do that? Were they * 
mad?” ' j f 
The physician scanned tho faco of his patient t 
and then whisperedYes—with hunger, I j 
suspect." t 
Mr. Flint looked shocked and puzzled, and 8 
was about to 3peak again. j 
“ Hush,”said the physician warningly, “ ho i 3 s 
coming to.” ’ j 
Old Caleb groaned and 6lowly opened his h 
eyes. He saw the physician and Mr. Flint. q 
“ Ab, you have come, have you?” he said to p 
the latter. Then he added“ The poor brutes 
were driven to it. I ought to have fed them.” 
Mr. Flint and the doctor exchanged slgnlfl- y 
cant glances, 
“Never mind about that now,”said the Iat- B 
ter. “You must keep quiet." 0 , 
But the patient spoke in a remarkably strong, q 1 
clear voice “ I want to know how long I have ai 
to live.” g 
“ Ob, a good while, I hope. We will try and ai 
bring you around all right.” 
“ Don't trifle with me.” said the other,sharp- 
ly; “will I live three hours?” 
“Certaiuly you will, and more.” ar 
“ With my head all clear?” 
“Yes.” 
“ Is my head clear, now ?” 
« 
eay that on your authority as a physl- ne 
cian ?” 1 
“Yes.” “ 
“That is enough. Do your work as quickly ' 
as possible and then leave me alone with Mr. he 
Flint.*# I ki ^ 
Remonstrance against this course of proceed- oh 
ing was vain, and no heed was given the physi¬ 
cian's declaration that any mental effort would 
almost inevitably bring on a dangerous fever. 
In half an hour the lawyer and the miser were 
closeted in privacy. 
“You know something of me. Mr. Flint,” 
began the latter. “You know, for one thing, 
| ^hat I am called a miser—and 1 am ono. You 
have done some business for me and know that 
I have some money. But your cool head does 
not. credit, I am sure, tho fabulous stories that 
are told of my wealth. It is alow work, this 
laying up a penny or a dime at a time. I have, 
have a notion that it would be very fine to have 
the money given to M athew Cole on Christ¬ 
mas Eve. It is almost at hand. That would be 
an appropriate time for such a thing, would it 
not?” 
“Very appropriate, Indeod." 
The man of business act his lips firmer, and 
seemed to suppress something that would not 
have been at all business like. 
“It won't come very bad to him after tho 
flro," said the miser. “ Well, begin; my time, I 
think, can be counted by hours.” 
The will was drawn up and, the doctor arrlv- 
8E A CUCITMBBR8 
* ! n alI ’. a H “ 10 over It is all in the cellar 
1n u a u n, v° nbOX ~ ,8noonel,stenln K ? ” His eyes, 
’ ™. tb * he,r brl « ht Klare and susolcious look, 
> dilated* 
I No one but myself can hear what you say," 
replied Mr. Flint. 
| n»r T m l v the Wa “ ln the nortl *e»Bt cor- 
r. You will have no trouble In finding it. 
1 f. Klvo the mon ey to Mathew Cole." 
mtJ»°*1 Ta * 1r COLEI” The lawyer was un¬ 
mistakably astonished. 
i T r e \ I t,are8a y you have heard Jstories of 
how I cheated h Im years ago. Those stories are 
true. We were both young men and he trusted 
me. Ho came out poor, and I rich. But oh. he 
thaniTnhaPPler fa hi* struggles to rise again 
than I was with my ill-gotten possessions. They 
did not prosper me. Remorse haunted me and 
I became reckless. I lost all and was a miser¬ 
able, penniless wrotoh. After that I was known 
as a poor, degraded creature, for I hud no rela¬ 
tives and no ambition to rise. For years I have 
01,1 Caleb, the miser.’ I have not 
nor the cold aDd hunger and bard- 
® b ‘ P f. . d t * , “" aDd Jwra that I have endured. 
I, 1a hdaa bee /‘ wlth a purpose. Yes, a fixed, 
, s A I) ", rP ,^? that 1 havo nevor ,ost Bight of. 
And the fulfillment 0 f that purpo8e Ja „ ea r at 
hand. It bus como sooner than I expected. . 
The hounds have given me a good push on my , 
last, long journey. Have them killed at ouce, 
please, and deeently burled. 
AU™ ount 1 obtained dishonestly from j 
AIatuew Cole was $30,000. I had determined i 
to save until I could repay him with interest. I 
onit P °,° r is cut Bhort ’ and there is £ 
ovirfSL P ° P f ° rbim ' Whatllttle there is , 
over that amount will pay for burying tho dogs 
tso oS'ln 11 , £° r ^°' Jr Bervices - Vou will put the t 
?30,m In a bank, take a certificate of deposit 
and present it to Mathew Cole?” » 
I will undertake the trust." 
»hlH beremU f ba a wilL You must draw up 
the document while a boy goes for the doctor r 
2sln‘ '* W ‘ ' d ° for a witness, and can testify v 
again to my soundness of mind. You must 
th0 Wl11 that 1 wi *h to testify, fr, a sub- 
«nH r{’ repentarico tor my wrong doing, 
nefs Sr i 1 h ,° P V ur 5fATH£w Cole's forgive- 
™ “ “Jf° r that ( ’ f “y Maker. Ab, It seems c 
thi L int i f< V* hHVe led ou 8ht to do some- o 
thing toward atonement 1” 
he?r r^i a < PaUb6 ' a , nd tbe oId raai > breathed 
"Yo.^m T m ex,JaUatlon - Then he said: 1 
oI T°“. , U, f h at the ldea of auch » withered r < 
old soul as mine having any sentiment, but I t< 
-A-3STID STAR FISH. 
>ng in due time, the signatures were duly affix¬ 
ed. When all was finished the doctor whispered 
to the lawyer: 
“ He Is failing. His vitality has been oozing 
away for years. By to-morrow morning hla 
soul will have taken its flight!” ,| 
CHARTER JY 
Christmas Eve I 
Lawyer Flint was walking up the street with 
an unusual briskness and with a light in Lis 
eyes that was seldom seen there. It certainly 
was not a business look. And yet his errand 
was one of business. He stopped at Mathew 
( ole s door and knocked. Having been ad¬ 
mitted, ho waa, at his request, shown Into the 
presence of the family. 
“You will pardon any singularities of man¬ 
ner that I may exhibit to-night," he said, ad¬ 
dressing himself generally to those present. 
I am a lawyer—a man ©f business; but, hang 
it I can’t a ruan of business occasionally throw 
off the infernal veil of formality that, he is ob¬ 
liged to appear In from one year’s end to an¬ 
other ?’* 
He received only stares of astonishment in 
answer to hiB inquiry. 
“But I mustn’t make a fool of myself,” he 
said, after a pause. “Mathew Cole, this is 
not a particularly Joyous Christmas for you and 
yours, is it? No, I know it is not. You need 
not trouble yourself to reply. I know of your 
great loss by the fire and of your disappoint¬ 
ment at not being able to set your son up in 
business. To change the subject, havo you any 
acquaintance with one Caleb Harris, other¬ 
wise known as ‘Old Caleb?’ ” 
" Caleb Harris! To my cost I know the 
most—” 
“There, there. I see your memory of him is 
fresh." 
“Would that I could forget-” 
' No, no! I don’t want you to forget. I pro¬ 
pose to freshen your memory of him to-night 
with still greater vividness. He is dead.” 
“Yes, we all know that.” 
“ Years ago he cheated you.” 
“ He robbed me of all.” 
‘No be didn’t] He left you your wife, your 
child and your honor. But he robbed himself 
of the last mentioned article. Think you he 
never felt the loss?” 
“ He was Incapable of such a feeling." 
“You are mistaken. He has lived a life of 
remorse and penance, and has devoted himself 
to making restitution," 
JJ2* I ,ncret b |, tty appeared on the faces 
rist- | of the listeners. Mr. Cole saidWhy do vou 
i be come to-night, Mr. Flint, to talk over this un- 
d it pleasant matter ? The name of Caleb Harris 
must to me always he associated with_” 
“With wonder I with joy! with gratitudo! 
and with kind remembrances 1” interrupted the 
not lawyer. 
“Impossible I” 
the “Listen. Caleb Harris has been a miser 
>e,I for nearly twenty years. During that period 
his sole ambition has been to save money. He 
riv- lies saved money. He left, when he died, $30,000 
In hard cash—tho very amount, he robbed you 
And here ft is—or its equivalent l” 
Mr. Flint held out an oblong slip of pa par 
Every member of tho family sprang to his or 
gf her teet - Mathew Cole stared at the lawyer 
s with a dazed expression. 
= “Don’t you want It?” asked Mr. Flint, etill 
extending his slip of paper. 
# “ What is It ?” gasped Mr. Cole. 
“Read it.” 
£ Mr. Cole took tho proffered document and 
— examined it. As ho did so, ho beoame almost 
- overcome with agitation. It, was a certificate 
h of deposit Issued by the F. and M. Bank, for 
% *30,000, payable to Mathew Cole nr his order 
f/ This was almost incredible. Mr. Cole rubbed 
his cyos, gazed at tho certificate, at the lawyer 
» and at tho certificate again. Ho scorned at a 
| hiss to comprehend tbe situation. His wife 
| and daughter watobed him with glowing faces 
= and Charles frantically grasped th«j lawyer’s 
r blind. Explanations followed. Amid expres 
sions of wonder and Joy, Mr. Flint told his 
story; how he had done driblets of business 
for Old Caleb for years past; how ho had known 
of his having money, but how secret the old 
' Inarj had bBcn concerning it and thopurposo 
for which he was hoarding it; of his interview 
with tho miser the day before his death-of his 
whim regarding the time and manner in which 
tho bequest should be presented and of his 
tragic end. 
There waa joy In that house that night. Old 
bitter memories were burled, and from their 
graves arose forgiveness and kind thoughts. A 
new future was opened to tho family that had 
such a short time before, bean desponding to 
the verge of despair. Charles, as soon as ho 
could do so with propriety, took his hat and 
begged to be excused. Perhaps some reader 
can surmise whither his bounding footsteps 
, took him. Tbe lawyer remained eoitie time, 
answering the numerous questions with which 
he was plied. His face was suffused with joy. 
He seemed totakegenulrie pleasure in witness¬ 
ing the effect the performance of his errand 
had produced. When he finally rose to go, ho 
said j 
Well, friends, allow metocongratulnteyou 
I have only got wbat is justlyyours. but who 
would havo suspected such a thing of Old Ca¬ 
leb? I tell you It is hard to say what won't 
happen in this world. Wo are told not to Judge 
one another, and every little while some lesson 
is bruat before enforcing tho precept, and 
caching mankind tbatgoodia extremely liable 
to come from where it is least expected—that 
rom rough places beautiful flowers sometimes 
1 be added * abruptly, while his face 
reddened, J am saying too much. You will 
pardon a Jot of sentiment from a man of busi¬ 
ness.! Good night 1” 
---, 
TEI SLA. 
THE LOVE STORY OF A DAHL PEASANT. 
An artist In Sweden, telling In the New York 
Times, recently, his story of adventure, Inter¬ 
wove with it a sketch so touching of honest 
love and chlld-Ilke Ignorance of the world that 
it Is worth reproducing here though ruor6 brief¬ 
ly. One evening, on a mountain side, he was 
trying to sketch his sleeping guide, when fine 
young fellow, dressed in the picturesque Dahl 
costume, whom ho remembered to havo seen in 
a village some days before, approached him. 
He had a forest of auburn curls, and big gray 
eyes, and a melancholy expression on his face 
and was in his holiday costume-leather hreech- 
es, massive shoes with ponderous Iron bimkies 
the peculiar leather apron of the country, a 
bright bluo jacket and a square-cut waistcoat 
of yellow, embroidered with scarlet flowers and 
the flaps lying low on his hips. Ho carried a 
heavy bag that might weigh a hundred pounds 
and hold two bushels, on bis back, but stood as 
erect as a young fir. Ho said “Good evening” 
in his own way and offered his hand ; then ]«t 
his bag down and sat upon It. Ho looked at 
the artist’s sketch and then desired to use tho 
pencil. The artist added a piece of paper aDd 
tbe peasant wrote on It one word—“Tdsla ” 
He scrutinized tho artist closely for a moment 
then rose wearily, as If disappointed, and began 
emptying his leather sack. A good eupply of 
barley loaves, a bottle of brandy and a consider¬ 
able wardrobe came out before the peasant 
reached tho object of his seareh-a bit of blue 
ribbon, carefully wrapped in cloth. He showed 
this to the artist and pointed to the word— 
‘Teisla.” The American could not but under¬ 
stand that the name and tho ribbon had some¬ 
thing to do with each other and finding the 
Dahl patois incomprehensible ho brought his 
sketching into play. 
Though it. was 11 o’clock at night a soft, mel- 
ow.suhduedI light still pervaded the moun- 
taina. IrapJd!? drew the peculiar Dahl shoe, 
”‘ tb 80 ‘ e blrch hark extending beyond 
the toe, made the peg in tho middle, which an- 
awers for the heel, and decorated the Instep 
with ft hunch of streaming ribbons, The Dahl c 
