J 
162 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
cn 
MARCH 6 
ready. Mias Grkbn.” The dressing-room door 
wa* opened, and Mias Clare and Mias Greek 
entered the ball, followed by the other ladles 
of the little company. On their appearance the 
beaux placod their hats upon their head?, 
looked at each other, then at the ladles, and 
then again at each other, but not one of them 
left his position until after lfve of the ladles 
had passed out Into the street. At this Mr 
Wardman, who wa* waiting for his bride, 
turned to those nearest him, exclaiming. 
“Boys, what are you thinking of ?—the ladles 
will all be gone before you know It.” 
“ I was Just waiting for the right one to 
come along.” said Mr. Sponre. *' But, Ward- 
Man, they heard you, for see how they arc 
streaking It out like lightning; they won't give 
a body a chance to- He did not stop to 
finish his sentence, but suddenly placed him¬ 
self by the side of a young lady whom, In the 
fading light and partial disguise of her wraps, 
he mistook for Ada Clare. 
u Will you take my arm?” he said, familiarly, 
holding It out as he spoke. The lady was about 
to accept It, when he discovered his mistake 
“ Ah, It'e you. Is It ? Excuse me, I thought you 
were Ada Clark, or 1 would not have troubled 
you,” and ho stepped away quickly, while the 
lady, blushing and confused, passed out. Half- 
smothered Utters escaped the lip* of other 
ladios, but the gentlemen who witnessed the 
scene were much vexed and and mortified. 
How many ladies were attended home that 
night we will not positively assort, but it wbh 
reported that only four out of the twenty-two 
prosent were provided with osoorts, and we In¬ 
cline to the belief that for once Madam Rumor 
confined herself to the truth.—[Concluded next 
week. 
KIT CARSON. 
JESSIE BENTON FREMONT’S RECOLLECTIONS OF 
THE GREAT SCOUT. 
The broad piazza of our house at St. Louis 
was always the wolcome gathering-place of the 
trappers and hunters, as well as the traders to 
Santa Fe. and mountain men generally. With 
these my father loved to talk and gain the 
knowledge afterwards put to such good use. 
There also narratives of endurance, sagacity, 
daring, and self-relying courage were told In the 
quiet, matter-of-course manner of men to 
whom the opposite qualities were unknown. 
When Washington Irving was about to make 
hts journey in the Indian country, he was often 
at our house while lu St. Louis, and bis com¬ 
ments on the simplicity as well as the fine cour¬ 
age of these men was my first perception that 
there was anything unusual in them. I am not 
qualified to do justice to the best of these; only 
men who have shared their lives can do so. 
But as a child In St. Louis, then In our winter 
home In Washington, and for many years after 
on our own frontier, on that of California, and 
in long weeks of camping-out travel, 1 had 
many opportunities of knowing them well. 
They were “princes in tbeir way,” as one of 
them said to me when he had his feelings a 
little hurt by a man of high position lu Wash¬ 
ington. “Who would have thought It of him ; 
such a fine-looking gentleman, too. They are 
great men here—princes In their way; but when 
they come out to the plains we are the princes, 
and they could not live without us.” 
When needy King John tried to collect reve¬ 
nue by requiring each noble to produce his 
titles and written deeds, or failing forfeit them 
to the crown, an old earl's answer was charm¬ 
ing. He drew his great sword and flung it on 
the table before the king’s envoys : 
“Tell your master 1 am uo clerk, nor were 
my ancestor? before me. These lands are ours 
by the sword, and by the sword we will hold 
them.” 
So with our mountain men: they were not 
clerks, but great men. 
One of them, to whom I had been reading 
Mazeppa, said to me: 
“ Read that part again where he comes back 
with twice five hundred men to thank him for 
his courteous ride. That's the way I felt when 
the Black feet destroyed my caches, and I went 
back and thanked them for it. Now, if I had 
had reading like that I might have made a 
soholar. I was a young boy in the school-house 
when the cry came, ‘ Indians!’ I jumped to my 
rifle and threw down the spelling book, and 
thar it lays.” 
Our good, dear friend Oarsou made his mark 
true and high, however, without the need of 
any more scholarship than the frontier school- 
house gave. 
His Instinct, was true and delleate, and led 
him to acts as correctly courteous as the most 
thorough training could do. 
When the first boat that had ever rested on 
the lonely, silent waters olktho Salt Lake made 
Its way to the island near the center, and the 
man at the bow was jumping ashore to draw 
her up, Carson held him down with “the Cap¬ 
tain steps there first," 
I liked greatly an expression of his, referring 
to a man who had done him a mischief. “ If 
ever I get the chance, I will do him an honest 
injury." Nothing that was not honest and fair, 
and open, and of good repute, found Its place 
in his wholesome nature. 
Carson had eminently the nature that comes 
from gentleness combined with strength, from 
thar innate sense of justice which gives to 
others what we require for ourselves, from a 
healthy nature to which cheerfulness is so nat¬ 
ural that Instinctively they feel Its lack anti 
seek to Impart It. To such a nature the morbtd 
the nervous, the heartsick and weary, come 
and are comforted, and feel as Invalids do when 
they get into those favored climate? where an 
even temperature and the certainty of daily 
returning sunshine and no surprises of frosts 
or rains insensibly bring calm and healing. 
Such a nature attracts to itself and retains only 
what is best In all It meets; and as the character 
engraves Itself upon the countenance, so the 
many years since I had seen Carson had done 
their ennobling work so effectually that my old 
friend was perfectly In keeping with the beau¬ 
tiful library of the friend’s house In which we 
met again. He had lived what we Idealize In 
writing and love to read of. And about him. 
too, was the dignity of coming death. 
I had been written to from Washington that 
Carson was there, 111 and depressed; that he 
had not consulted a physician yet, but thought 
he had had the heart injurod In an accident; 
that if I would urge him to come to me and be 
well nursed and see a physician something 
might yet be done, although his condition 
seemed very serious. Carson had been for 
years an important part of my life, when It wo* 
all filled with energetic action, and when (rue 
friends In tho old homo watched for and 
protected the absent, and welcomed them back 
on the return from long dangers; and now 
that death, and political differences a-t relent¬ 
less, and the war had completely ended that 
life, 1 saw for the last time one of the few who 
had not changed from that old time of youth, 
and health and friends and a complete home. 
But Carson was only troubled by my emo¬ 
tions, and told me with his own simplicity of 
courage that be bad seeo Dr. Sayre, who told 
him that he might live to reach his home (at 
Taos, near Santa Fe,) but that he might also 
die at any moment, as the heart was fatally 
Injured by the accident from which Carson 
dated his Illness. In trying to save a mule he 
had becomo ivound in Its lariat, and both fell 
together over a steep precipice, Carson's left 
side getting the blow as be fell on the rocks be¬ 
low. His open-air and absolutely temperate 
life-delayed the inevitable end. Ills only wish 
now was to get homo, and not let his wife have 
the shock of hearing of his death. 
Yesterday I thought I was gone,” he told 
me. The Indian chief who was with him in 
his room told him wbat he had said—he him¬ 
self only knew that all at once “ lie felt the bed 
rise with him,” and with that a “drowning 
feeling,” but with a new, strange element 
which made him cry out, "Lord Jesus have 
mercy!” “I do not know 1 said It, but I koow 
1 might, for it’s only the Lord can help me 
where 1 am now." 
Tho chief had taken him from the bed and 
carried him to an open window. “ I noticed he 
was crying. ‘What's that, for?' I asked him. 
‘ Because you looked dead, and you called Lord 
Jesus.’ " 
i give this much of our dear old friend’s last 
sacred talk with me because those who knew 
him best were the most pained by the singular¬ 
ly untrue use made of his name by one In¬ 
capable of understanding him. And as Old 
Mortality kept the moss from bldiug tho in¬ 
scriptions on the tombs he cared for, so it is 
needed that some should not allow tho fungus 
growth on honored names. 
Carson did not reach home. And his wife 
did feel the shock he had hoped to soften to 
her; she even felt It so much that she died. 
Then Carson's friends at the fort made him 
come to stay where they and the surgeon of the 
post might do all they could to lessen his 
sufferings. And so, surrounded by his friends 
and love and honor, bis end came. 
His wife was one of the good New Mexican 
Spanish families, and tlielr children belong 
with the most respected and wealthy old 
settlers there, although Carson's post as Indian 
superintendent left him no richer than when 
he was only guide and hunter. 
General Sherman, who was among his most 
valued and attached friends, had the good 
fortune to be able to offer a free scholarship In 
an Ohio College to one son. He, I am sure, and 
all who knew Carson best, when they hear him 
spoken of will not think of him only as the 
brave man, or the great hunter, or the cool, 
sagacious, admirable guide, but first and ten¬ 
derly as their “ Dear old Kit." 
-- 
previous occasions thirteen miles distant, but 
when we came In Its Immediate Influence, and 
saw the trees on either hand lit up and their 
trunks and branches silvered to their tops by 
the burning torch the scene was beyond de¬ 
scription. 
“The first thing to strike the visitor on ar¬ 
riving Is the great mass of fine white flame of 
intenso heat and brightness; the hollow, rum 
bling noise heard as the out-rushing gas plunges 
Into the atmosphere and Ugbts all around by 
its Imposing brilliancy. The fiatne of this nat¬ 
ural torch Is about forty feet long and fifteen 
wide, and keeps at these dlmen«lnns night and 
day with strlklug regularity. Hence the light 
is both regular and constant. The heat emitted 
by so large a body of flame is very great. The 
trees all around, at propon.ional distances 
are budding, and the grass that has not been 
trodden down by the throng of visitors Is grow¬ 
ing finely, and, considering that this is mid¬ 
winter. this circumstance will give you some 
idea of the great heat. I approached within 
sixty feet of the flame, aDd supposed It to be at 
that distance about HO degrees. The light is 
grand. You can see to read with ease a quarter 
of a mile from this enormous gas jet, and if 
uninterrupted by trees and the wind of the 
road, reading could be done at the distance of 
a mile and a half. 
“The noise as tho gas rushes out and is con¬ 
sumed Is wonderful. If, struck me as very much 
like the hollow roaring of a mighty river falling 
over a dam, uninterrupted and constant. This, 
together with the light and beat, fills the be¬ 
holder with awe. The sound of Its roaring can 
be distinctly hoard at the distance of four 
miles.” 
-♦♦♦ 
THE QUINTESSENCE OF CHEEK, 
jSitbkth Reading. 
SATURDAY EVENING. 
Among the Americans who attended a ball 
given at the Hotel do Vlllo, Paris, when John 
Y. Mason was our minister there, was Jack 
Spicer of Kentucky. Jack rushed the drees 
somewhat strong, and sported epaulets on his 
shoulders largo enough to start four major- 
generals in business. Jack was the observed 
of all observers, and got mixed up with a par ty 
that his friends could not account for. Wher¬ 
ever the marshals of France went, there went 
Jack; and when the marshals sat down Jack 
did the same, always taking the post of honor. 
The day after the ball Jack called on our 
minister to France, who started up a conver¬ 
sation In the following way: “ I hear. Jack, you 
were at the ball, last evening.” “I was, sir, 
and bad a high old time." “ For which you 
were indebted^I suppose, to the high old com¬ 
pany you got mixed up with. By tho way, how 
came you associated with the marshals?" 
“How? By virtue of my office; they were 
marshals of France, while I am nothing else 
than a marshal of the republic. I showed my 
position, and took post accordingly.” “By 
right of your office? What do you mean?" 
“Read and see." Here Jack presented Mr. 
Mason with a whltcy-brown paper, w ith a seal 
big enough for a four-pound weight. “What 
in the name of heaven is this?" “My com¬ 
mission as ‘ marshal,’ 1 received In 1860, when 
I assisted In taking the census In Frankfort.” 
“ You don’t mean to say you travel on this?” 
“ I don’t mean to say anything else. That 
makes me a ‘ marshal of the republic,’ and I 
Intend to have the office duly honored.”—Cin¬ 
cinnati Star. 
-♦ ♦♦ 
IS NOT THIS TRUE? 
A BURNING WELL. 
Things are pretty well balanced In this 
world, so far as taking comfort goes, and I be¬ 
gin to believe that, high or low, all have their 
tribulations. Fishes are hooked, worms are 
trodden on, birds are fired at. Worry is every¬ 
where. Poor men's wives worry because the 
bread won’t rise, or the stove won’t draw, or 
the clothes line breaks, or the milk burns, or 
the pane of glass is mended with putty, or they 
can’t afford to hire help. Rich men's wives 
worry because the preserve dish is not of the 
latest pattern, or because somebody finds out 
how a party dress is trimmed before the party 
happens, or because some grandee’s wife over¬ 
looks them, or because their help sauces 'em, 
breaks up tea sets, spoils dinners, gets drunk 
and cuts up sheets Into underclothes. Causes 
vary, but worry averages about the same. The 
scale of miles is different on different maps, 
but places remain Just so far apart, and so do 
humanity and content. 
The following Interesting description of a 
burningjvell In Pennsylvania has been received 
by the Signal Office In this oity from Mr. J. 
Cummings, of Tarentum, one of the volunteer 
observers lor the signal service : 
“ On the night of the 2d of February, 1875, 
myself, In company with several others, paid a 
visit to tho great gas well, situated about nine 
miles from Tarentum and fifteen miles south 
of Butter, at a place called Larden's Mill, on 
the farm of Mr. William Hervey, and owned by 
a company consisting of Messrs. William Her¬ 
vey, J. S. Vandergrift, and J. McAllaster. The 
well was tapped about two weeks ago, as 1 
learned from one of the proprietors, In their 
search after oil. Thay have gone down a dis¬ 
tance of 1,145 feet, and have just struok the 
first, sand rock. 
" The well Is located in a hollow about three 
hundred feet wide between abrupt hills. Our 
party came In the vicinity of the well about 9 
o’clock at night, havlDg seen the vast light 
floating in the sky on many a dark night on 
EARLY MORNING. 
The brightest, the beBt, the most beautiful 
part of the day Is the early morning. There 
seems also to be a moral Influence, and sweet, 
healthy power at this time. The air Is fre6h, 
the feelings are renewed, the spirit Is calm, and 
we enter upon the day rested and restored. If 
we had day without night, and our hours of 
repose were amidst the hot rush of constant 
activities, we should lie down and be unre¬ 
freshed. It is a blessed provision that nature 
gives us, In the curtains or the night, and we 
must sleep with the glare of the day shut out, 
and arise In the morning, as the day begins to 
see all nature start afresh. There is both 
stimulus and encouragement In the air we 
breathe at this time. 
With every one the expectation of a misfor¬ 
tune constitutes a dreadful punishment. Suf¬ 
fering then assumes the proportions of the un¬ 
known, which is the soul's infinite.— Balzac. 
THE week Is past, tho Sabbath dawn comes oa; 
Rest—rest In peace—thy toil Is done; 
And, standing as thon standout, on the brink 
Of a new scene of being, calmly think 
Of what is gone, Is now! and soon shall be 
As one that- trembles In eternity. 
For such as this now closing week I? past, 
So much advancing time will close mr laat. 
Such as to-morrow shall the awful light- 
Of the eternal morning hail my sight. 
Fpirit of good ! on this week’s verge I stand. 
Tracing the guiding Influence of thy hand; 
That hand wldch leads me gettly, calmly still. 
TTp life’s dark, stony, tiresome, thorny hill. 
Thou, thou, in every storm hast sheltered me 
Rt-neaf b the wing of thy benignity ; 
A thousand graves my footsteps circumvent. 
And ] exist—thy mercy's monument; 
A thousand writhe upon the bod of pain. 
1 live, aed pleasure flows through every vein; 
Want o’er u thousand wretches waves her wand, 
I, circled by ten thousand mercies, stand. 
How can I praise thee. Father? bow express 
My debt of reverence and thankfulness? 
A debt that, uo Intelligence can count. 
While every moment swells the vast amount. 
For a week's duties thou hast given me strength 
And brought me to its peaceful close at length. 
And here my grateful bosom fain would raise 
A fresh memorial to thy glorious praise. 
( Bvlu’tr. 
-»-»-» 
GERRIT SMITH AT PRAYER. 
The best theology —a pure and beneficent 
life. 
The best philosophy—a contented mind. 
The best law—the golden rule. 
The best eduoatlon—self-knowledge. 
The best statesmanship—self-government. 
The best medicine—cheerfulness and temper¬ 
ance. 
The best art—painting a smile upon the brow 
of childhood. 
The best science—extracting sunshine from a 
cloudy way. 
The best war—to war against one’s weakness. 
The best music—the laughter of an innocent 
ohild. 
The best journalism—printing the true and 
the beautiful only, on memory's tablet. 
The best telegraphing—flashing a ray of sun¬ 
shine into a gloomy heart. 
The best biography— the life which writes 
charity in the largest letters. 
The best mathematics—that which doubles 
the most joys and divides the most sorrows. 
The best navigation —steering clear of the 
lacerating rucks of personal contention. 
The best diplomacy —effecting a treaty of 
peace with one's own conscience. 
The best engineering—building a bridge of 
faith over the river of death. 
Persecutions are pieces of the cross of Jesus 
Christ; we should scruple very much to allow 
the smallest particles of them to perish.^Sf. 
Francis de Sales. 
Dr. Goektner gives tho Evangelist some 
reminiscences of a visit to Gerrit Smith, and 
among them this description of the scene in 
his household at evening prayers : 
Seating himself at the table.be rang a bell, 
which was immediately followed by the gather¬ 
ing of the entire household; when, laying his 
hand upon the Bible, he said, “ Let us begin by 
rcadlug the twenty-third psalm," which, with¬ 
out opening the book, he recited In a voice 
always solemn and impressive, which made the 
devout and confident expressions of the psalm¬ 
ist touchingly beautiful. He then said, “ I love 
to retire with different portions of God's Word 
on my mind. Let us read a portion of the fifth 
chapter of Matthew," and he repeated the first 
sixteen verses of Christ’s Sermon on the Mount; 
and whoever heard Gerrit Smith speak or read, 
will be able to appreciate the impression made 
by his recitation of the Beatitudes. “And 
now,” said he, “we will rend one of the evan- 
golical prophecies;" and the manner in which 
he gave utterance to the fulfilled prophecy con¬ 
tained in tho fifty-third chapter of Isaiah, 
awakened the deepest emotion. Recall, if you 
can, his veueralde appearance, his voice, his 
perfeot accent; open to that chapter and read 
it, or imagine that you hear him reading, his 
voice tremulous with emotion, “He was wound¬ 
ed for our transgressions, He was bruised for 
our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace 
was upon Him; and with Hla stripes we are 
healed," Ac., and you will have a eitght Im¬ 
pression of the effect produced on my mind 
and heart. He read a hymn—the family joined 
In the singing—after which he knelt In prayer. 
His prayer was a wonderful unfolding of the 
inner man before the heart-searching God. He 
seemed to feel himself in the presence of the 
Infinite, and holding converse with a loving 
Father. His language was reverential and child¬ 
like, his adoration and praise were exulting; 
his thanksgiving and supplication were all so 
humbly, and yet so confidingly expressed, that 
when I rose from my knees, I felt that what¬ 
ever might be Gerrit Smith’s technical and pe¬ 
culiar views on some speculative points of doo- 
trine or practice, he was orthodox at heart, 
and sustained a most Intimate personal rela¬ 
tion to God through Christ. 
-■ ■■ - .. 
“BEST THINGS.” 
J3s! 
1 
