MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
JULY 17 
There was a last sad roeetlngof the lovers across 
the hedge that night and the moon looked down 
on two heavy hearts and two tearful faces as 
they both turned to their homes, the one to 
wot the pillow with her tears, the other to 
walk his room In bitter repining at the fate 
which seemed to be settling on his life in 
clouds and thick darkness, forgetting for the 
time to listen to Lite still, small voice which 
was whispering, “Come unto me, all ye that 
are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” 
Alice was hurried off to London, and after a 
few years was married to Mr. South worth, a 
man of wealth and honor. Mr. Uradford nought 
alleviation from ids disappointment iu his 
books and farm, and subsequently married 
Dorothy May, a woman of his own rank and 
persuasion, who proved a genial and faithful 
companion. After a few years we find them 
abandoning their pleasant home, for he was 
one of the llrst advocates for the removal of 
(lie little band of Puritans to America; and 
next we see them upon the tempestuous ocean, 
in the cabin of the Mayflower. After arriving 
in Cape Cod harbor, Mr. Bradford set out with 
a small party to explore the coast, and on re¬ 
turning was pained and afflicted to find that 
during his absence his wife, Dorothy, bad fallen 
from the ship and was drowned. Ho deeply 
mourned her loss, for she had proven a good 
wife, and they were mutually attached. He 
bore tliis second disappointment of Ida life 
with Christian fortitude. He bad no leisure to 
alt and b;ood over his grief, for life with him 
was now a warfare witli cold and hunger, for 
he shared In all that the colonists sulfered. It 
Is well known to any child of history how they 
struggled with disease ami savage enemies. 
Mr. Bradford was now ov. r thirty years of 
age, a ruati of rare piety and dignity ot manner; 
and wiien, a few months alter their arrival, 
Governor Carver died, he was elected Governor 
of the little colony, a position lie ably filled for 
more than i bitty years. And while with fath¬ 
erly rare ho tenderly watched all the Interests 
ill tlie little colony, there was a blank In bln 
household, and none knew better than himself 
how 1m realized the need of woman’s ready 
sympathy, and lie was often annoyed at his 
own inability to keep Ids thoughts from wan¬ 
dering across the “deep blue sea." The love 
lie had cherished for Alice had never died out 
of his heart. True, It had been sleeping, and 
while the husband of another had never wished 
himself other than he was; but now that they 
were both free for Alice, too, was left, alone, 
having lost her husband ho often said to him¬ 
self, “1 wonder if she remembers the love of 
he*- youth? and even If she did, would she not 
think It too great, a sacrifice to share his for¬ 
tunes in the wilderness?” 
Men are not like women, and will not wait a 
lifetime without knowing their fate when it 
can be decided by a single word. So he resolved 
to write and ask Alice, and lu the sprlug of 
1833 tiie letter was sent across the Atlantic. 
Ho faithfully set before her all the privations 
and sacrifices she would be called upon to en¬ 
dure, saying as an equivalent for this that he 
had only the love of an honest heart to otter 
tier, and requested her. If she thought favor¬ 
ably of his proposal, to take passage In the first, 
ship that would Ball for A iimrica, as ho was too 
occupied to come over to England for her, fear¬ 
ing the colony might suffer during his absence. 
Time, always so lieavy-footed to the waiting, 
passed slowly to the Governor; hut late In Au¬ 
gust a liny sail was seen in the distance. It 
was the ship that contained so much of luterest 
to many, but none waited with such almost 
breathless anxiety as did Governor Bradford, 
for It was to contain Alice or her letter of re¬ 
fusal. The whole town crowded to the laud¬ 
ing, and when the vessel reached the shore 
many wont on board, and the Governor passed 
from one to another of the new-comers, telling 
them how welcome t hey were ; but ft dose ob¬ 
server would have seen that the restless wan¬ 
derings of his eye were Indications that some¬ 
thing was unsatisfying. She was nowhere to be 
seen, and be tried to say calmly, “ It Is God’B 
will, and l will try and be happy without her; 
there will at least be a letter for me." Ho turn¬ 
ed to ask for one, when he met coming from 
the cabin a matronly-looking woman. He 
Beamed to have forgotten that while time was I 
hastening him to maturity, that Alice, too, 
might be changed ; he had always kept her in 
mind as the fair, frail girl of many years ago, 
and here slie was, the beautiful,stately woman. 
She, too, probably had her surprise, for the tw o 
stood looking at cadi other, when “ William 1” 
“Alice!” were uttered simultaneously, and 
the two, so long kept asunder, mot, never to be 
parted by man’s decree again. They were mar¬ 
ried at. once. There was no display, but that 
without which all outward show is but as a 
“ sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal,” the joy 
of two faithful hearts. They lived long and 
happily together; thirty-four years louger did 
he prosperously guide the affairs of the colony, 
then died; his wife surviving him several years, 
she was well educated, refined, and much be¬ 
loved, and did much in assisting her husband 
in the improvement of the rising generation, 
and was sincerely lamented when she died.— 
Mrs. It. M. Crook , irt Baltimore Elocutionist. 
gone to the Mosque when the ceremouy was 
performed, she taking no part In it. After the 
ceremony the bride usually stays at her fat her’s 
house nine days, during which time she sits in 
state decked iu her finest dress and jewels, re¬ 
ceiving calls from her friends. Then her joy Is 
at an end. She must go to her husband, take 
off her line cloths, and become a perfect slave, 
subject to the will of her cruel master. The 
parents of the Grille were very pour. Her 
mother was dressed In a little better than rags, 
and w’as at the tOiu/Utl washing clothes. All the 
women of tiie bride's company hail their hair 
plaited full of gold coin*? these were heirlooms, 
and so greatly treasured that a woman would 
almost starve before parting with one of them. 
The present given to the bride by the family 
wuis uu elegant pale blue brocade silk dress and 
a black silk embroidered with gold. The former 
cost $!',(). The bridegroom’s presents were a 
sumptuous lilac silk, heavily embroidered with 
gold; ear-rings of pearls and gold, bracelets as 
wide as a finger. During the cull she wore the 
bridegroom's present*. The other drosses were 
hung spread out on the wall. 
We stopped at the house below, according to 
custom, and sent word wo were coming. The 
bride's return answer was that she would be 
glad to salute ua. After waiting about twenty 
minutes, we went up stairs, for she lived on the 
second floor. She had not quite finished her 
toilet and sat on the floor before a large mirror 
surrounded by finery. As wo entered she arose 
and saluted us, and then returned composedly 
to her dressing. Of all the strange and ghastly 
sights her face was tins most wonderful, as may 
be Imagined from tiie way which it was je-u- 
pared. First, hot wax spread over the whole 
face, which, when cool, was peeled off. This 
w'us done to remove all the hair from the face. 
Then whiting was rubbed on till the akin looked 
like marble. Her eyebrows were painted Jet. 
black ; her lips and a large spot on oftch cheek 
painted brilliant red. On these rod spots, on 
her forehead, and at the corners of her mouth 
gilt flowers were pasted. Then over the whole 
face powdered sugar had beou snapped, w hich 
made it sparkle us with diamond dust. She 
wore poarl'oar-rings, and around her neck were 
a string of large amber beads, three strings of 
roped pearls, and a curious necklace, which we 
were privately told was borrowed for the occa¬ 
sion. It was made of five-pound gold pieces, 
over-lapping each other like scales. The usual 
head-dress was covered with real and artificial 
flowers. The flhisliing touch was put on In the 
shape of « piece of black wax heated over the 
da)h>o)i till very hot, made round and flat, and 
then stuck between the eyes. 
THE MOSLEM BRIDE, 
We called on the daughter of a Mohamme¬ 
dan living In this city (Tripoli). Though the 
girl had been married several days, she had 
never been seen by her husband, He had only 
A ROMANCE OF THE SECOND EMPIRE. 
At a ball given by President Napoleon at the 
Elysee, some nights before t.ho voilp d'etat, 
Milo. Eugenie met tho future Emperor and her 
husband. The manner of meeting w'as some¬ 
what romantic. Louis Napoleon did not care 
much for the rush of ballrooms, and lie bad 
chosen a propitious moment to escape, with 
his friend, Edward Ney, the Duke of La Mos- 
kowu, into the Elysee gardens, when he sud¬ 
denly came upon a radiant, blushing girl, who 
wuh tying up hei hair alone, opposite a glass In 
the conservatory. Her hair had come down 
during a waltz, and tho crowd was too great to 
admit of her reaching the ladies’ dreBsing- 
room: so that Bbe glided in here, hoping to bo 
unobserved. Louis Napoleon seeing her in this 
strait gallantly gave her Ida arm and led her 
round by the private apartments to the dress¬ 
ing-room In question ; and from this time there 
whr a mutual regard between the President 
and tho fair st ranger. 
During the following twelve months Mme. de 
Montijo and her daughter were invited guests 
at all the Presidential residences -Fentdln- 
bleau, Compelgne, St. Cloud and it escaped 
nobody that tiie President paid Milo. Eugenie 
an inordinate amount of attention. No one 
supposed, however, that these attentions would 
end in a marriage; for tho President, having 
performed Ida coup d'etat, was on tiie point, of 
becoming Emperor, and it w as uo secret thut 
his Ambassador at Munich was trying to ar¬ 
range a match for Id in witli a Princess of Bava¬ 
ria. Tho King of Bavaria, however, refused to 
give away ids relative to a prftme whom ho 
styled an “adventurer," and then it was that 
Louis Napoleon, much mortified at heart, re¬ 
solved not to expose himself to further rebuffs 
in courting royal princesses. Possibly Mine, de 
Montijo had been waiting her opportunity, for 
two days after the news of the Bavarian snub 
had begun to get bruited she naked a private 
audience of tho Prince, and told him that aa 
his attentions to her daughter were beginning 
to excite comment, she had the intentlou of 
leaving France, 
This was at, Ht. Cloud, wdiere the mother and 
daughter were both staying. ThePrlnce uskod 
Mine, de Montijo to tarry' one duy more, for he 
might have something to say to her, and he em¬ 
ployed these t.wouty-rour hours in acquainting 
ills ministers of Ids intention to marry Mile. 
Eugenie. Tho news foil among them like a 
shell. Nothing of this kind had been appre¬ 
hended by any one, and Count de Moroy, M. do 
Perslgoy and Edward Ney earnestly implored 
the Prince not to contract such a mesalliance. 
The communication was made to the Cabinet 
on the 25th of Novembor, On the 2d of De¬ 
cember the Prince was proclaimed Emperor; 
on the 2d of January the coming marriage was 
officially notified to the French people, and on 
the 30th of January it was solemnized at Notre 
Dame. 
__♦-» ♦ ■ - 
COMING AND GOING. 
It Is all “comingand going” in this world of 
ours. Yestorday your friend dear to you from 
childhood—clasped your baud, and you lived 
over again the days of the loug ago. The 
temptations, trials, failures and triumphs of 
youth were recounted with great distinctness. 
Your desperate striving with Smith's arith¬ 
metic ; your quarrel with that red-haired Jones 
boy; your narrow escape from dismissal when 
It was found you put that snapplng-turtle In 
the teacher's desk and tied the bell-rope to 
Deacon Smith's bald-headed nun ; the genteel 
flogging you received for pinning the teacher's 
coat tall to Jemima Brown's new silk dress, and 
your leaving for the ground tier on your first 
attempt to smoke a cigar. 
Then came your .Sunday experience, which is 
not unlike that of the boys of to-day. Wan¬ 
dering through the woods in search of birds’ 
nests; trading jack-knives; visiting the barn¬ 
yard witli Sam Smith and pointing out the 
good qualities of our favorite colt; blacking 
your boots and going to the little frame church 1 
on the bill, where the gray-hatred minister 
reeled off a theological discourse while you : 
were counting the chances of heating Bob 
Jones’ two-year-old In the quarter-mile dash to 
take place In the North lane while the old peo¬ 
ple were attending afternoon service, or won¬ 
dering whether Warn Smith would “see" your 
last nickel on a game of iackstones. 
After this, your triumphs at the spelling ! 
school, where you “spelled down” the whole 
class in the vain hope of winning the love of a 
fatr-halred girl who was always “engaged” i 
when you asked her to accompany you to sing¬ 
ing school. i 
All the many incidents of your early life were , 
canvassed. You look back through the dark¬ 
ening years to the pleasure of boyhood, un¬ 
mindful of the ravages of time, forgetting that 1 
your hair Is silvered by age, closing your eyes 
to tiie goal now so near, but yesterday so far 
away. 
To-day your Triend is gone. Tiie last “ good- 
by” lias been spoken. Y r ou cannot annihilate 
the space thatdlvidos. 
'Tis more than seeming, and from the dream 
of yesterday this is the sad awakening. He 
brought the sunshine and loft tho shadow ; yet 
there Is a silver lining to tho cloud. There is a 
world of sorrow in the “ coming ” and “ going ” 
of your fileml.— William Nash. 
■--- 
READING FOR AMBITIOUS SPELLERS. 
THE most skillful gauger I ever knew was a 
maligned cobbler, armed with a poniard, who 
drove a peddler’s wagon, using a mullein stalk 
as an iufftriiment of coercion to tyrannize over 
his pony, shod with calk*, llewaa a Galilean 
Sadducee, und he bad a phtblaleky catarrh, 
diphtheria, and the bilious intermittent erysip¬ 
elas. A certain sybil, with tho sobriquet of 
Gipsy, went into ecstasies of cacblnnattou at 
seeing him measure a bunhel of peas end sepa¬ 
rate saccharine tomatoes from a heap of peeled 
potatoes, without dyelngor singeing tiie ignitl- 
bie queue which ho wore, or becoming para¬ 
lyzed with hemorrhage. Lifting her eyes to the 
ceiling of the cupola of the’Capitol to conceal 
her unparalleled embarrassment, making a 
rough courtesy, and not harassing him with 
mystifying and stupefying inutaidoes, she gave 
him a couch, a bouquet of lilies, mtgnonetto 
rnd fuchsias,'ft treatise on mnemonics, a copy of 
the Apocrypha iu hieroglyphics, daguerreo¬ 
types of Mendelssohn and Kosciusko, a kalei¬ 
doscope, a dram phial of ipecacuanha, a tea- 
spootful of naphtha for doleble purposes, a 
ferrule, a clarionet, some licorice, a surcingle, 
curnfellan of symmetrical proportions, a chro¬ 
nometer with a movable balance wheel, a box 
of dominoes and a catechism. The gauger, who 
was also a trafficking rectifier and a parishioner 
of mine, preferring a woolen surtout (this 
choice was referable to a vacillating, occasion¬ 
ally-occurring Idiosyncrasy), wofully uttered 
this apothegm, “ Life is checkered; heresy and 
villainy shall be punished.” The sybil apolo- 
gi/.ingly answered, “ There la ratably an allege- 
able difference between a conforrable ellipsis 
and trisyllabic duereslB.” We replied in tro¬ 
chees, not impugning her suspicion. 
- -- 
THE SHAH S STRONG-BOX, 
The strong-box of the Shall of Persia con¬ 
sists of a small room.Sff by 14 feet. Here, spread 
upon carpets, lie jewels valued at $7,000,000. 
Chief among them fa the Kaianiau crown, 
shaped like a flower pot, and topped by an un¬ 
cut. ruby as large a3 a hen’s egg, and supposed 
to have come from Siaul. Near the crown are 
two lambskin caps adorned with splendid 
aigrettes of diamonds; and before them lay 
trays of pearl, ruby and emerald necklaces, and 
hundreds of rings, A Mr. East wick, who is re¬ 
ported to have been allowed to examine the 
collection, states that conspicuous among the 
gauntlets and belts covered with pearls and 
diamonds is the Kalanlan belt, about a foot 
deep, weighing perhaps about eighteen pounds, 
which is one complete mass of pearls, dia- 
mbnds. emeralds and rubles. One or two scab¬ 
bards of swords are said to be worth a quarter 
of a million each. There is also the finest tur¬ 
quoise in the world, three or four Inches loug 
and without a flaw; also uu emerald as big as a 
walnut, covered with the names of kings who 
possessed it. 
£abbatft Jjkadmg. 
OVER AND OVER AGAIN. 
Over and over flgaiti. 
No matter which way 1 turn, 
I alwayB find In the Book of I.ife 
Some lesson 1 have to learn. 
I must take my turn at the mill, 
l roust grind out the golden grain, 
I must work at my task with a resolute will, 
Over and over again. 
Over and over ngatn 
The brook through the meadow flows, 
And over and over again 
The ponderous mill-wheel goes; 
Once c oing will not suffice, 
Though doing be not In vain. 
And a blessing failing ns once or twice, ’ 
May come If we try again. 
TEXTS AND SERMONS. 
A fault confessed la half redressed. 
Nothing shows happiness more than tears. 
Tears are the extreme smile. 
Hk who prays for his neighbor will be heard 
first for himself.— The. Talmud. 
Poverty pinches, but not half so hard as 
vice. The one wounds to heal; the oilier leaves 
an ulcer. 
Tub little stream when It enters the sea pro¬ 
claim* its arrival. The river forms the junc¬ 
tion in silence. 
The worst, sign of an age is not evil living, but 
low standards and cynical Judgments; though, 
indeed, tbeso two go together. 
It is only the busy and the overworked men 
upon whom you can throw any extra work with 
some chance of Its beiug welcomed. 
If thou art rich, thou art poor; for, like an 
ass, whose back with ingots bow*, th«m bearest 
thy heavy riches but a Journey, and death un¬ 
loads then.- Shahupcare. 
Who Is wise? He that Is teachable. Who Is 
mighty? He that conquers himself. Who is 
rich? He that is contented. Who is honored? 
He that honoreth others. 
Sveer, If you will, like a fool, at the sugges¬ 
tion of reform, morals, religion ; every man 
knows that all there Is of true llte In personal 
virtue and rectitude of character. 
The foundation of domestic happiness Is faith 
iu the virtue of woman ; the foundation of po¬ 
litical happiness, temporal and eternal, is reli¬ 
ance on tho goodness of Providence. 
Aloft on Hie throne of God, and not below, 
in the footprints of a trampling multitude, are 
the stored rules of right, which no majorities 
can displace or overturn. — ClutrlM Sum ner. 
The intimacy begotten over a wine bottle has 
no heart . 1 never knew a good feeling to come 
from It, or any honest friendship made by it. It 
only entices men and ruins them.— Thackeray, 
The first step toward greatness is to be hon¬ 
est, says tiie proverb; but the proverb falls to 
state the case strong enough. Honesty is not 
only the first step toward greatness, it is great¬ 
ness itself.—Borec. 
Let every person so live that he can go to 
bed in peace with himself at night. No matter 
who else fights with him, don’t let that little 
grumbler called conscience have good grounds 
for putting in his roar. 
The opportuulty of making happy is more 
scarce than we imagine; the punishment of 
missing it, is, never to meet with it again ; and 
the use we make of It leaves us an eternal seu- 
timentof satisfaction r repentance.- Bousscuu. 
TO understand tiie world is wiser than to con¬ 
demn it. To study the world Is better than to 
situn It. To use the world Is uobler than to 
abuse it. To make the world better, lovelier 
and happier is the noblest work of man or 
woman. 
I am told that our breath poisons the air, and 
that the trees have to keep it pure by sucking 
the poison out. It seems to me thut a great 
many people are put Into the world for nothing 
but to make hard work for the trees. I do not 
understand It.—Che h'uo Tain. 
" WE live in deeds, not years; la thoughts, not 
breaths j 
In feeling*, not In figures on u dial, 
We shuuld count time by heart-throbs. He most 
lives 
Who think* moBt, feels the noblest, acts the best.” 
Ik I were suddenly asked to give a proof of 
the gooduoss of God to us, I think I should say 
that It Is most manifested in the exquisite dif¬ 
ference he has made between the souls of 
women and men, so as to create the possibility 
of the most charming companionship that the 
mind of man oau imagine .—Arthur Helps. 
Not ulouo to know, but to act according to 
thy knowledge is thy destination,-proclaims 
tho voice of my inmoBt soul, not for Indolent 
contemplation and study of thyself, nor for 
brooding over emotions of piety,—no, for action 
was existence given thee ; thy actions, and thy 
actions alone determine thy worth.— Fichte. 
Every man is the builder of a temple, called 
hla body, to the God he worships, after a style 
purely his own, nor can he get oil' by hammer¬ 
ing marble Instead. We arq all sculptors and 
painters, and our material Is our own flesh and 
: I blood and bones. Any nobleness begins at once 
’ | to refine a man’s features, any meanness or 
sensuality to imbrute them. 
