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GOING TO TOWN. 
The horses stand ready, old gray and the brown. 
For Paterfamilias la going to town ; 
The flour-bag Is empty, the kerosene low. 
And father declares that to town he must go. 
So the horses are harnessed and hitched to the cart, 
While " pa" goes Inside to make himself " smart.” 
He takes down the mirror with infinite care 
And deposits it handily down In a choir, 
And mixing his lather with face rather grave, 
He proceeds to Inflict a very clean shave. 
This finished, he gets Into his suit of “sheep’s gray,” 
(A suit that has “ stood ” him for many a day,) 
And calls for bis collar in his own hasty style. 
That "he's so long getting off,” he grumbles the 
while. 
The big Jar of butter is covered and tied, 
And Into the wagon It goes with a slide; 
The hide of the heifer killed Monday for meat. 
Is rolled up carefully and tucked under the scat: 
“ The boiler Is leaky,” declares Susan Jane, 
“ Until it is mended, I shan’t wash again.” 
Thus “stumped,” the old gentleman can’t say u 
word, 
And Tom Is sent out to shove it aboard: 
“ The matches are out, the Indigo, too.” 
“ I guess you’ll make out if the duds aren't blue," 
Says "Peter,” whlloacorn In hi* gray whisker lurks, 
Which eDds at last In a couple of smirks. 
I must have a speller," llttlo Billy sings out, 
“ And I want a round oomb.” says Bell with a pout: 
“ I think you had better get yourself a now hat. 
Your old one is shabby—you can’t do with that.” 
“ Propersight,” qnotli the pater, blsmlnd in a fame, 
“ You think if you want It, I’ll bring you the moon ; 
Do you think of good greenbacks the men are all 
made? 
I’d like to know when I’m to get rny debts paid ?” 
And grabbing hi* hot with u lowering face. 
He mounted the wagon, with very bad grace. 
And cracking his whip with consummate skill. 
He would soon hnv© been out of sight o’er the hill 
When " father,” came borne to bis unwilling ear. 
And "father,” In accents more thrilling and clear. 
He gToancd, stopped bis horses, and took a fresh 
cud, 
And waited, while Tommy came plash through the 
mud; 
" Well, what now I I thought I’d got arrants enough'” 
Said lie, Just »* Thomas cume up with a puff. 
“ Why—here—Is—a letter, ma wants you to mall, 
And bring her some stout linen thread without fall,” 
The poor tuau shut his mouth with a smile very 
grim. 
And made the old horses move gd with a vim; 
His " eurlappets" mournfully flapped in the breeze; 
As be passed out of sight near the white willow 
trees. 
(0ur ^torg-S^l^r. 
MY MOTHEK-m-LAW, 
"Take my advice,” said Uncle Israel to me, 
when I told him that pretty Susie Hoyt had 
consented to be my wife — "take my advice 
and get as faraway from your mother-in-law as 
possible. I speak from experience. Taking it 
up and down, J’ve had a fair share of matri¬ 
monial happiness, but the majority of the dif¬ 
ferences of opinion between your aunt and 
myself I attribute entirely to the Influence and 
interference of my mother-in-law. By-the- 
way, who is Mrs. Hoyt? I don’t remember 
hearing you speak of her." 
"She ceased to be Mrs. Hoyt when Susie was 
five years old, and became Mrs. Gardiner. Hoyt, 
as far as I can learn, left her nothing but Susie. 
Gardiner left her a lawsuit.” 
“Oh! a widow again?” 
“Yes; and, Uncle Israel, she is notone bit 
like the traditional mother-in-law. She is a 
little morsel of a blue-eyed woman, as gentle 
and sweet as Susie herself. 
“They all are. Butter would scarcely melt in 
the mouth of Mrs. tioud before I married her 
daughter Julia, and—well, you have heard her 
discourse." 
I had. Cold chills of apprehension crept over 
me as I imagined Mrs. Gardiner assailing me in 
like fashion. Upon the strength of my uncle’s 
mother-in-law, I went at once and secured a 
house at the very extremity of the city suburbs 
—a gem of a cottage, with a whole city between 
its white gate and my mother-in-law elect's 
residence. 
I saw her gentle lips quiver when I told her 
whereto live, and there was a pitiful tone In 
her low voice when she said, "It is very far 
from here;” but she made no other remon¬ 
strance, and I hardened my heart and furnished 
it. Directly opposite was a handsome residence, 
with wide grounds, a lovely country mansion 
within easy distance of my business, for which 
I longed, but waited for fortune's wheel to give 
a turn In my favor to purchase it. 
After we were married and settled In our 
cozy little cottage, Susie and I would often sit 
upon the porch and talk about the happiness 
of living in the house I coveted, and which was 
for sale, though rented and occupied. Some¬ 
times Mrs. Gardiner would come over to spend 
the day, and Susie would tell her of her castles 
in the air, when my cotton speculation made 
us rich. 
I was doing a small business at that time, In 
a wholesale leather store, being junior partner; 
but I had invested every spare dollar I could 
demand In Joining a company to buy some 
thousand acres of cotton In Louisiana, grow¬ 
ing. We felt certain of realizing an Immense 
fortune when our cotton was ready to pick and 
put into the market, and every letter from our 
agents in the South gaye us new hope. So we 
MOORE’S RURAL. NEW-YORKER. 
furnished the new house, in Imagination, and desert, craving water I could hear tingling from 
looked forward to owning It one day. a near fountain and could not reach It. 
But In all this time I oould not truly find any Then In my delirium caine some angel who 
reason to regret my connection with my cooled my lips, put water to my head, let air in 
mother-ln-law. It is true she often advised upon my stifling agonies. I could not make 
me, hurting my married dignity somewhat by my tongue utter the words In my mind ; It 
taking the ground that she who bad been my would babble of everything else, but chiefly of 
Susie's constant companion for nineteen years, Susie, and the fear Susie would come to take 
understood her disposition and peculiarities the horrible fever. 
butter than 1, who “worshiped the ground And in my home there was enaettng a scene 
upon which she trod,” &c. But honestly I I have heard described so often I can put it 
.A. IVEO-RINTIKT Gr CONCERT. 
could never say her advice was not good, and 
Susie was quite willing to admit I understood 
her perfectly. 
So nearly a year glided by, and my blue-eyed 
mother-ln-law was just as lovalbe and gentle as 
before the marriage. My heart smote me 
Bometimo .1 when she spoke of the loneliness of 
her home without Suale, but I thought of Uncle 
Israel, and was firm. It was In the fall of 1867, 
when appalling news reached the company of 
cotton speculators, and we looked eaoh other 
blankly In the face. Instead of the bales of 
cotton we had expected coming to be coined 
Into gold, we received news that our agents had 
employed Inexperienced hands, had irritated 
the seedmen, who would have been glad to get 
the work, and so mismanaged the whole affair 
that our cotton was worthless. There was no 
one to go but myself, and my home affairs held 
me. Susie was not well and I did not wish to 
leave her, yet there might be something saved 
If a competent agent went to Louisiana. 
'While I hesitated and lamented, Mrs. Gardi¬ 
ner came to the rescue. 
“You must go,” she said, “and leave Susie In 
my care. I will stay here with her, and you 
can return as quiclcy as possible. Hannah will 
come, too." 
Hannah was a family servant who had been 
Susie’s child nurse. I engaged a nurse recom¬ 
mended by Mrs. Gardiner, and with a heavy 
heart set my face Southward. It Is not neces¬ 
sary to enter into the details of my business 
worries. For a month I was detained, trying 
to get some return of the money we had Invest¬ 
ed, and falling utterly. Then, heart-slok, 1 
started for home. In the great cities the yellow 
fever raged, and I avoided them in my route; 
but on my way from New Orleans to Memphis, 
at a little place called Vaughen Station, I was 
taken til. 
Put off the train, bag and baggagB, I was 
driven to a wreiohed little tavern, and left to 
die or recover as I saw lit. I have a distinct 
memory of a doctor feeling my pulse, of a 
dreary certainty of filth and discomfort all 
arouud me, and of burning thirst. Then fol¬ 
lowed agonizing dreams of delirium, with pain 
in every limb, racking headache, loneliness, 
madness. I was fever racked, with horrible 
fancies—now being sawed apart by medical 
students, now beset by wild beasts rending me 
limb from limb, now In a sea of Are, now In a 
here as If I had seen and heard all. Susie lay 
white and weak In her own room, with our first 
born In her arms not two days old, when a tele¬ 
gram came to her. The doctor at Vaughan 
Station had found my address in my note-book, 
and telegraphed my condition. 
“Oh,” sobbed Susie, “he will die there all 
alone, and will never know, mother, what you 
have done for him,” 
“ He shall not die alone," Mrs. Gardiner said, 
resolutely. “Heshall have a good nurse and a 
loving one as fast as steam can carry her. Eh. 
Hannah ? " 
“Yes’m,” said Hannah, “You make your 
mind easy, ma’am. I’ll do my duty." 
“There is no train till night. Can we pack a 
trunk of Invalid comforts, Hanuah,—wine, jel¬ 
lies, clean linen, bed-clothes and fruits?" 
“Yea’m," said Hannah, again 
So while I tossed and burned, these two raced 
about the city gathering up comforts for me, 
till the trunk stood packed and ready, when 
the carriage came to bring my nurse to me, and 
Susie cried over her baby and sent me tender 
messages. 
From some abyss of horror—some horrible 
rock of delirious ageny, I have a faint memory 
of helng recalled to a dim consciousness of 
realities by a low, sweet voice saying: 
“Driuk this!" 
Something cool and pleasantly bitter was put 
to my parched lips, and over every sense crept 
a torpor, a gentle soothing to slumber, till all 
consciousness died in a deep, profound sleep. 
I do not know how long I slept, but I awoke 
with every sense clear and the fever fancies all 
gone. 
I looked about me. I was perfectly codscIous 
that I bad lost my reuson in a bare, desolate 
room, where the sun streamed In through dirty 
windows, and the barest necessities of life 
around me were of the poorest description. I 
looked at the windows shaded by dark-green 
paper and soft muslin curtains; at the floor, 
scrubbed and sweet-smelling; at the bed-llneu, 
white, clean and cool; at a little table beside 
roe, with snowy cloth, upou which lay great 
white grapes, luscious oranges, tamarinds in 
goblets of water. Then I feebly turned my 
head to see, standing beside me with anxious 
tenderness In her soft blue eyes, my—mother- 
in-law. 
“ You roust not talk," she said, very gently, 
her soft, little hand falling upon my forehead 
like a snowflake, “ but try to keep very quiet. 
All Is well at home. I hear from Suale every 
day. She Is getting well fast, and your son Is in 
splendid health." 
“ My son 1 ” 
“ Now I have given you a pleasant thought to 
dream upon, try to sleep again. But first take 
a drink of beef tea. It should taste of home, 
for T bought the condensed beef In cans from 
your Unde Israel’s store. He sent the grapes 
and oranges, and a lot of good things you shall 
have by-and-by.” 
“ But you ? ” I said, wondering still, “ are you 
not afraid of the fever? ” 
" t have taken all prudent precautions,” was 
tbo reply, "and tny fear was not so strong as 
my love for my son.” 
“ Thank you, mother,” I whispered, and 1 saw 
through my own misty eyes her lips quiver as I 
called her by that name f or the llrst time. 
Can I ever toll how she nursed me back to 
health, humoring all my sick fancies, yet guard¬ 
ing against all hurtful indulgences? All the 
cheery letters Susie wrote she read to me and 
answered for me, till my own weak fingers 
could guide a pencil. In her thoughtful affec¬ 
tion she had packed In the wonderful trunk 
light reading to heguile the hours of convales¬ 
cence. When I could sit up, she exerted her 
ingenuity to keep mo from feeling lonesome, 
and would talk unweariedly of that wonderful 
two-days' baby, with eyes blue as a patch of 
summer skies and a mouth likoaclear rosebud. 
Susie’s letters were a great com Tort, and an- 
sweringthom, giving humorous accounts of our 
wretched accommodations, occupied many 
hours. 
But the day came at last when the doctor said 
I might start for home without fear of carry¬ 
ing the contagion with me. Carefully we de¬ 
stroyed every article that could endanger our 
dear ones, and started for Memphis with the 
pleasing certainty that, no acoideut befalling, 
we could travel by easy stages and reach home 
before my boy completed the second month of 
his little life. 
The unwoarled tenderness that had brought 
mo back from the jaws of death removed all 
discomforts from my journey and arranged for 
all needful rest. 
It was early morning when we reached the 
city and drove across to our oountry-llke home. 
But the carriage, instead of stopping before the 
cottage gate, turned In the gateway of the op¬ 
posite house, driving up the wide, shaded 
avenue to where, upon the porch, Susie was 
waiting, with our boy in her arms. I could not 
ask questions then. It was enough to fold my 
treasure In my arms In utter thankfulness. But 
when Susie led the way to the wide drawing¬ 
room, furnished exactly as we had so often 
planned, I cried out in amazement. My mother- 
in-law, leading me to a sofa, made me sit down, 
saying: 
“ You must let me explain. I wanted to pre¬ 
pare a pleasant surprise for your home-coming, 
and Susie lias arranged everything for me. 
You will acoept this house from your loving 
mother, will you not? I have won roy lawsuit. 
We never talked much about It, Susie nor I, 
because I scarcely hoped to gain it. My hus¬ 
band loft me two hundred thousand dollars, 
but his relatives disputed the will. After 
nearly three years litigation, the case has boen 
decided in my favor. But Susie Is my own 
child, and all 1 havo Is hers, so you must let me 
give you the house you like so much, for your 
home and hers." 
“I will on ono condition.” 
“What Is that? ” 
“ That you come and share it with us. There 
is no longer tlio w idth of a great city between 
you and your children, for you must never say 
again, mother, that Susie is your only child.” 
“ But you do not like a mother-ln-law ? ” 
“I have had many foolish likes and dislikes 
in my life,” I replied, “ but never oue so utterly 
unfounded and idiotic as that one whose basis 
existed only In my Imuglnation. Do not punish 
me by refusing to come to us.” 
Susie’s blue eyes pleaded more eloquently 
than my tongue, and the baby struck in with a 
most coaxing "coo,” so Mrs. Gardiner consent¬ 
ed. Whether she ever repented I cannot say, 
but 1 know that from that day to this we have 
had a happy, united home. I do know that my 
own mother, had she lived after rny baby-hood, 
could never have given mo warmer affections 
than my wife’B mother bestows upon me. I do 
know that there is no name more loved and 
reverenced in my home than that of Mrs. Gard¬ 
iner, in any capacity, whether as Susie’s mother, 
the children's grandma, or My Mothhh-in- 
Law. 
♦ ♦ » 
FLOWEE THOUGHTS AND FANCIES. 
Somebody says that flowers are the “ fugitive 
poetry of nature;" and to wild flowers most 
eminently belongs the remark. Our cultivated 
flowers cannot be called "fugitive poetrywe 
do not And them scattered along tbo roadsides, 
smtling to the brooks, nodding on lillia to every 
breeze. Not they ! They are collected and 
placed in our houses and conservatories, labeled 
and surrounded by the costly accessories which 
belong to all volumes of oullccted poetry. 
But with wild flowers It Is different. We come 
upon them Indeed, as upon eoraps of poetry 
tucked into the corner of some newspaper of 
everyday life, and in the one case, as In the 
other, exclaim iu a sort of patronizing surprise, 
“ Why, how pretty that is 1” 
