MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
40 
back before somebody should catch him, and 
away went his little cold feet, scampering In 
their hurry right across Hannah’s stocking- 
less ankle. She screorned, dropped the butter 
plate, and Dually dropped herself down—down, 
clear down to the bottom she went, and then 
laid still, waiting for somebody to come. Some 
body did, at last. She screamed so they couldn't 
help It, and she was helped along up the stairs 
atid put upon the- couch in the dining-room ; 
and good Aunt Rachel was there In a moment 
to pacify and prescribe. “ Where Is thee hurt, 
Hannah ?” 
“ Oh, my foot, my foot!" groaned Hannah, 
kicking the couch alternately with one and 
then the other. Aunt Kaciikl pulled ell her 
shoo. “Nothingthe matter with thee, here,” 
said she. Then off came the other one; then 
the little wrinkled hands tugged away at the 
stocking—that poor, muteless stocking. “I’m 
afraid thy foot Is swollen, Hannah,” raid she; 
“thy stocking seems so full." Ilut with auother 
tug, aided by J'atty’s fat hands, off it came 
with a jerk. “And oh! auntie, auntie!” said 
Patty, “just look!” And auntie did look 
where the chubby linger pointed and burst iuto 
a very un-Quaker-like laugh. 
“I s'pose you’d laugh if I was dyin’,”groaned 
Hannah. “Dear, dear; this ain’t Friday, but 
it’s the onluckiest day I evor had In my life.” 
Aunt, RACHEL had calmed by this time, save 
a sly twinkle in the soft gray eyes, and she 
gently replied to the uncourtcous speech of 
Hannah, “ Child, thee has found thy stocking." 
“ What—has ho brought it back?" said Han¬ 
nah, who, with closed eyes, had uot seen the 
object of the laugh. 
“ Thee has brought it back thyself, Hannah, 
hero on thy wounded foot. Thee maybe thank¬ 
ful that thee put. them both on one foot, for it 
has saved thee a bad bruise. Now If thee will 
let me put some of this Arnica liniment on this 
little scratch, thee will in a few minutes be 
able to rise and put your stockings on aright 
though, if X were thee, 1 would muml them 
first,” and Aunt Rachel went for the liniment, 
while Patty went for the kitchen and Hannah 
heard her toll Zacchetis, “That stocking is 
found. It, has just walked home, and I guess 
’tis hungry by the way it holds Sts mouth open,” 
Zack's“IIb! ha! ha!” grated upon Hannah's 
ear; but while she Inwardly resolved she ne'vor 
would jump into bed with one stocking on 
again if she was ever so sleepy, she held her 
peace; for, though she felt somewhat humil¬ 
iated, yet this was endurable as she comforted 
herself with tho thought that 15ns hadn’t had 
her stocking after all. However, the little affair 
gave her such u serious fright that she never 
again tied up tho holes fn the toes of her stock¬ 
ings with a string, but mended them, in accord¬ 
ance with Aunt Rachel’* timely suggestion; 
and though she doesn't keep house for the prac¬ 
tical little Quakeress any longer, but. has been 
keeping house and making stockings for Ben 
for a couple of years yet among her choicest 
treasures she hoards a bottle of Arnica liniment 
—a present from Aunt RACHEL when she went 
to housekeeping and whenever t hey talk over 
the past, Bun always laughs heartily while tell¬ 
ing where Hannah l'ouud her stocking. 
--- 
A WASHINQTON BOMANCE. 
John Welcker, by the grace of Sam. Ward, 
gifted with supreme catering characteristics, 
gazed upon the epicurean worlds he had con¬ 
quered, and yet he was not happy. His eye 
had dwelt with Ill-concealed complacency on 
his French cook, French dishes, French wines, 
French nomenclature, on tinted bills of fare, 
and even rested with benevolence on the re¬ 
treating coat-tails of guests who had taken 
French leave. The one thing needful to John's 
happiness was a corps of French waiters, lie 
had taken Patrick, Terence, rihamus and Bar¬ 
ney, aud had expended much money in Bach¬ 
elor's hair-dye, to bo used for tho transforma¬ 
tion of their auburn locks Into ebon curls, and 
had devoted much time to the submission of 
saore for “be Jobnrs” In the ornamental parts 
of their conversation, but It was of no avail, 
and John tore his back hair and wept, as only a 
defeated and chagrined artist will tear his back 
hair and weep. 
The news of the Franco-German war fell 
upon this eminent caterer’s otherwise benev¬ 
olent heart like gentle dew from heaven. His 
prophetic eye glistened o’er the inevitable re¬ 
sults of the contest, and he dreamed of a line 
of exiled Alsatian counts knocking at Ills front 
door for employment. They did come, not the 
counts, but the aliened Frenchmen, and John 
engaged a batch without asking for recommen¬ 
dations from their last employers. 
One was a gay young man, with a predilection 
for absinthe and females. Ho looked as if he 
might have been exported by a respectable 
family to preserve the escutcheon from dis- 
graeetnl stains; In short, he looked as the gen¬ 
eral run of the attaches to European legations 
in America do look. And ho had in truth been 
connected for a short time with the culinary 
bureau of tho French minister. 
As tho story goes, this young fellow, having 
left the insignia of Ins dally ollioe in Weickcr’s 
kitchen, arrayed himself in the most regardless 
style, and adorned the lappel of his professional 
coat with a hunch of violets, and then present¬ 
ed himself at the room of a certain gentleman 
one evening last week, where there were in full 
blast a musicals and French conversazione. 
The moat respectable people are the most 
1 I' guileless, and it is not to be wondered at that 
when our hero introduced himself to the master 
of ceremonies as Mons. Edgar de Mcilharj, late¬ 
ly attached to the French legation, that the 
master aforesaid, being an unsuspecting old 
gentleman, should have not only metaphori¬ 
cally taken him to his own bosom, but present¬ 
ed him to the bosoms of several guests, who 
being Americans seeing the sights at the cap¬ 
ital, have the American weakness for foreign 
adventurers very strong. 
The next seen of Edgar de M. was that lie was 
promenading with tho jeweled band of the 
lovely and aristocratic Alins X. resting on his 
arm, just where he is wont, when on duty, t,o 
carry his snowy napkin. Edgar looked con¬ 
tented, Miss X. looked proud, and all the other 
girls envious. By this time It was rumored 
around that lie was a count, and there wan Im¬ 
mediately a contest for Edgar. He fell to the 
lot of Miss Y. Having made her supremely 
happy by his graclousueas, he smiled on MBs 
Z. But t he hour came when Edgar must go. 
Misses X., V. and Z. pleaded with him in vain. 
“ Where—why must you go, dear count?” they 
said. “I have an engagement, at Weleker’s," 
he replied. 
“ 1 see a hand ye cannot see 
That beckons we away, 
1 hear a voice you cannot lienr 
Bide me no longer stay.” 
It la almost useless to add that the voice and 
hand referred to were the distinguished cater¬ 
er’s, for Edgar was on duty at ten o’clock. 
About half-past, eleven that night, Misses X., 
Y. and Z., and their respective fathers, dropped 
In Welcker'* for supper. They had just com¬ 
menced their midnight repast when Miss X. 
exclaimed “’TisEdgar,” gave a heart-rending 
scream, and pointed her fork, upon which was 
susnended a broiled ovster, at a man gracefully 
reclining against a distant door-jamb, with a 
crumb brush in one hand and a plated silver 
waiter in the other. Mr. X., thinking his daugh¬ 
ter was choking, proceeded vigorously to thump 
her back until both got red In the face, and she 
prayed for mercy. Miss Y.’s eyes followed the 
direction of Miss X. s fork, and she shrieked, 
“ ’Tis de MeUhau,” and fainted, with her back 
resting in her father’s stewed oysters. 
Miss Z., who Is some forty summers, whisper¬ 
ed, “ ’Tis the count, the perfidious count. Pupa, 
take me home to mamma," and fell into her 
father’s arms. Count Edgar de Moilhan, like 
Nero fiddling o’er the ruins of Rome, whistled 
“II Bado," accompanying himself on the sil¬ 
ver waiter with a crumb brush, and placidly 
gazed upon the three victims of his charms of 
person and conversation. 
The three gentlemen, respectable and muscu¬ 
lar pork merchants of Cincinnati, simultane¬ 
ously recognized “the count" and the situa¬ 
tion. “Our army swore terribly in Flanders, 
but It was nothing to this,” said Uncle Toby, 
for as each father held in hla arms tne limp 
figure of a disorganized and mort ified daughter, 
they could do nothing but storm, and, as they 
began in chorus, “ You contemptible, lrog-eat- 
ing Frenchman," the count, in response to the 
call of the lieud waiter, said, “Coming, sir, 
coming, sir,” and, bowing to the discomfited 
group, “ Adieu, adieu.” he cried, disappearing 
in the kitchen to toast some cheese, as the 
assistant cook had gone over to a fashionable 
masquerade in Georgetown in the character of 
Bayard— sans peur cl sans reproohe. 
•-♦♦A- 
MAXIMS WORTH KNOWING. 
Administrators are liable to account for 
interest of funds in their bauds, although no 
profit should have been made upon them, un¬ 
less the exigencies of the estate rendered it 
prudent that thoy should hold the funds unin¬ 
vested. 
When a house is rendered untenantable in 
consequence of improvements made on tiie ad¬ 
joining lot, the owner of such cannot recover 
damages, because lie had knowledge of the ap¬ 
proaching danger in time to protect himself 
from it. 
A person who has been led to sell goods by 
means of false pretense cannot recover them 
from one who has purchased them in good 
faith from the fraudulent vendor. 
Permanent erections and fixtures made by a 
mortgagee after the execution of the mortgage 
upon land conveyed by it, become a part of 
the mortgaged premises. 
A seller of goods, chattels or other property 
commits no fraud hi law when he neglects to 
tell tho purchaser of any Haws, defects or uu- 
BOUrtdnoss in the same. 
An agreement, by the holder of a note to give 
the principal debtor time for payment, without 
depriving him of the right to serve, does not 
discharge the surety. 
The opinion of witnesses as to the value of a 
dug that has been killed is not admissible in 
evidence. The value of the dog Is to be decided 
by the Jury, 
Money paid for the purpose of settling or 
compounding a prosecution for a supposed 
felony cannot be recovered back by the party 
paying it. 
A day-book copied from a “ blotter” In which 
original charges are first made will not be re¬ 
ceived in evidence as a book of original entries. 
A stamp impressed upon an instrument by 
way of a seal is as good as a seal, if it creates a 
durable impression in the texture of the paper. 
If any person put a fence on or plows the land 
of another, he is liable to trespass, whether the 
owner has sustained Injury or not. 
A private person may obtain an injunction to 
prevent a public mischief by which he is affect¬ 
ed fn common with others. 
If a person who is unable from Illness to sign 
his will has his hand guided in making his 
mark the signature is valid. 
Minister* of the Gospel, residing in any cor- 
porated town, are not exempt from jury, mili¬ 
tary or fire services. 
A wife cannot bo convicted of receiving stolen 
goods when she received them from her hus¬ 
band. 
An agent is liable to his principals for loss 
caused by his misstatements, though uninten¬ 
tional. 
All cattle found at large upon the public- 
road can be driven by any person to the public? 
pound. 
No man is under obligation to make known 
his circumstances when he is buying goods. 
The rruit-and grass on tiie farm or garden of 
an Intestate descend to the heir. 
Monqy paid on Sunday contracts maybe re¬ 
covered. 
DR. BETHUNE TROUT-FISHING. 
On one occasion, when the Doctor was resi¬ 
dent In Philadelphia, he went for a few days of 
rest, to a trout stream lie had heard of in the 
interior of tho State, to indulge in hi* favorite 
pastime. Arriving, an entire stranger, at a 
house kept by a man who had been accustomed 
to entertain those who came there to fish, he 
was coldly received. The man told him frankly 
that bo had attended a protracted meetingdur- 
Ing the winter, that ho hoped the Lord had for¬ 
given his sins, and that he had joined the Meth¬ 
odist Church, and meant to give up going with 
the kind of men who came up there to fish. 
The Doctor's humor overcame his scruples so 
far a* to gain admittance for the night, and the 
next morning succeeded still further, prevailing 
on the man to go out with him and show him 
the best places of the stream. They spent most 
of the day together, and on returning to the 
house iu the afternoon, the man slapped him 
on the shoulder, saying, “Doc., I like you.” 
“Why do you like me, my friend?" “ Well, 
Doc., I'll tell you. We've been out a’roost all 
day, we haven’t caught much, you fell in and 
got wet, and l haven’t heard you swear once.” 
Alter supper, a* the Doctor was smoking his 
pipe in front of the house, his host came out 
and with some hesitancy said, “Doc., since I 
j'ned the church I've had prayers every night; 
we are going to have them now, and maybe you 
wouldn’t object to come iu.” “ Certainly not, 
my friend,” and he went in to listen to the 
reading of a passage in a broken way, and to 
join heartily in the good old Methodist hymn. 
During the singing the man watched him close¬ 
ly, aud at tho onrl said, anxiously, “ Maybe you 
wouldn’t mind leading us In prayer?" 
The Doctor knelt, and offered one of those 
full and hearty, yet simple supplications, w hich 
are so well remembered by all who know him. 
He was hardly seated in front of the house 
again, before the mail reappeared, saying, 
“ Doc., I kinder suspicion you.” ” What do 
you suspect me of? Nothing bad, 1 hope!” 
“No, nothing bad, maybe I'm wrong, but I 
kind o’ think you're a minister." “ What makes 
you think I’m a minister?” “Well, I’ll tell 
you: I haven’t beard you swear since you came; 
then the way you jined us in that hymn ; ihen 
tho way you prayed, made me think you were a 
minister.’’ The Doctor laughed heartily as he 
acknowledged he was indeed a minister. 
-♦-*»♦-- 
A SINGULAR CASE. 
TnERE dwells in this city a lady who in ail 
respects seems a sane and sensible woman. 
.She lost, five years ogo, an only daughter of 
great promise, seventeen years old, and the Idol 
of her mother. Since her child’s death she has 
had tho room she used to occupy cleaned daily, 
and the untouched bed pulled to pieces ami 
made over. She sits before a vacant chair at 
the table and carefully fills the unused plate, 
and spring and fall buys tho newest and pretti¬ 
est thing* for “Aildie,” giving away the last 
year’s garments, “Addle" having done with 
them. There is no appearance of mental gloom 
or disorder about her, yet she carries this va¬ 
gary into every act of her life. Riding out, no 
one ever sits beside her, as that seat is flllod by 
the imaginary, air-drawn daughter. When seats 
arc taken at a theater, her husband always gets 
three. Yon see the vacant chair between them, 
where she supposes t he dead “Addie” sits and 
views the performance. She Is cheerful and 
happy, and asked a friend of mine the other 
day for the pattern of a wrapper, saying “ Ad¬ 
dle” kept her room so much it would be ser¬ 
viceable. and several days later I saw the poor 
mother busily braiding a cashmere sack fur 
“Addie.” She will speak with all rationality 
for hours on all subjects, but suddenly excuse 
herself, saying she must go to “Addie” a few 
moments. Sitting beside tiie empty bed (to 
which her daughter was confined fur two years 
before her death), she clasps an unseen hand 
and talks hours together with her phantom 
child. It is a strange case, but by no means a 
sad one, since her tender ministration to this 
viewless “Addie” makes the mother's heart 
rejoice. To all intents and purposes the daugh¬ 
ter seems to her to be wit h her constantly. Her 
liusbaud contemplates taking her abroad, and 
the lady is already packing up “Addie's” 
things .—New York Letter. 
-- 
Don't imagine you are better than your fel¬ 
lows; there are no reserved seats in heaven. 
i jfebhttt Reading. 
A LAMENT. 
BY MRS. C. H. CRISWELL. 
As the leaf from the rose tree falling, 
So softly fleil her breath, 
Sure, some spirit near was calling. 
As she lay In death : 
’’ Come, sweet maid, to God's high dwelling, 
The saints await thee here 
Our harps shall he with anthems swelling 
When thy puru soul is near.” 
Weep not ye mourning friends, tho’ sadness 
Still clouds your hearts with woe- 
Weep not! her soul doth dwell In gladness, 
Where heart-tears never flow. 
Your Curling teas she, fond, confiding— 
An angel now, more bright; 
Too pure for earth, she's now abiding 
in regions of delight. 
To know her was to love her dearly— 
So innocent the maid ! 
Alas! your hearts are broken nearly— 
Your beautiful Is dead. 
From tiiar, fair cheek is gone the blossom, 
Ah, never to return ! 
And ne’er again shall henvc that bosom— 
Tbo. e eye* no light discern. 
Thus, in the springtime of her being, 
While In her freshest bloom, 
Filled with bright hopes, and ne’er foreseeing 
She was so near the tomb — 
Thus died she, us n flower in summer. 
Plucked by a reckless hand, 
Yields Its sweet breath without a murmur, 
Leaving its slater-band. 
Though the cold earth is now her pillow 
In a far and lonely spot— 
Where rank grass grows, and weeps tho willow, 
She’D not be soon forgot. 
And tho' from home and dear friends riven, 
These thoughts our peace restore— 
That her pure soul now dwells in Heaven 
To live forevermore! 
Brooklyn, N. Y., 1873. 
--- 
KEEPING THE TONGUE. 
Keep it from unkindness. Word* are some¬ 
times wound*. Not very deep wound* always, 
and yet they irritat e. Speech is unkind some¬ 
time* when their Is no unkind ness In the heart; 
bo much the worse that needless wounds are 
inflicted ; so much the worse that unintention¬ 
ally pain is euused. 
Keep it front falsehood. It is so easy to give 
a false coloring, to so make a statement that it 
may convey » meaning different, from the truth 
while yet there 1* an appearance of truth, that 
we need to be on our guard. There are very 
many who would shrink front teltsug a lie, tvho 
yet suffer thomaelvos in such Inaccurate or 
exaggerated or one-sided statements that they 
really eome under the condemnation of those 
whose “lying llpa are an abomination to the 
Lord.” 
Keep it front slander. The good reputation 
of others should be dear to us. Sin should not 
bo suffered to go uurebukud; but It should be 
In accordance with '.the Scripture method : 
“Go and tell him his fault twixt thee and him 
alone.” And it should be borne In mind that 
what is too often considered aa merely harm¬ 
less gossip runs dangerously near, if it does uot 
pass, the confines of slander, A reputation is 
too sacred to be made a plaything of, even if 
intent he not malicious. 
- 
THOUGHTS AND SUGGESTIONS. 
Every good deed that we do is not only a 
present pleasure, but a prop for the future. 
Rest of all is it to preserve everything in a 
pure, still heart, and let there be for every 
pulse a thanksgiving, and for overy breath a 
song. 
Generosity during life is a very different 
thing from generosity in the hour of death ; 
the one proceeds from liberality and benevo¬ 
lence, the other from pride or fear. 
It would not be easy, even for an unbeliever, 
to find a better translation of the rule of virtue 
from the abstract into tho concrete, than to 
endeavor so to live that Christ would approve 
our life,—Joint ISluart Mill. 
Scienth'IC thought remains in the higher re¬ 
gions of society, among the privileged souls 
which have acquired some intellectual culture, 
while religion embraces life and death, bears in 
itself the consolation of innumerable griefs, 
the oneouragemont of countless hopes.— Emilio 
Vastdar. 
There’s no music In a “rest," that 1 know 
of, but there’s the making ol music iu it. And 
people are always missing that part of the life 
melody, always talking of perserverance, and 
courage, and fortitude; but patience is the 
finest and worthiest part of fortitude, and the 
rarest, too.— RUSH ill. 
Most people need all the strength which a 
high-toned public opinion can give to them to 
keep them truo to their conscience and their 
God; and that opinion is partly formed by 
what we do and what we are. Strive earnestly, 
thou, to order your life with a wise simplicity. 
Be frugal in the shows and generous in the 
substances of life. Set the example, *o greatly 
needed, of wholesome moderation. Show that 
you care for character above all else. 
