( n 
round the pleasant room again. “ I know she 
will think this house a bargain when she sees 
it. Six rooms and a garden a good-sized gar¬ 
den, too—and for $2,000!" 
“And the pretty furniture, Harry. All paid 
for, too. That is the best of all, and very good, 
substantial furniture It is," replied his wife. 
“ Yes. I was determined that bhouid be paid 
for, on the nail. What sticks I have about me 
must lie ray own.” 
“ Oh. Harry! How can you call our nice new 
things 1 sticks!" 
'* Chairs and tables then, child ! I got a good 
discount by the way, because I paid cash down. 
I wish I could have done the same by the house. 
I might have had it $200 cheaper. However, if 
we are careful of our expenses, chickabiddy, 
we phail soon clear off the mortgage. It is only 
The fancy word dropped from Margaret's 
bands. 
f ‘ Nino hundred dollars!" she said, turning a 
little pile. “A mortgage! On this house, 
Harry 
“On whose house should it be?" said he, 
laughing. “ Why, you look as scared an if I had 
stolen the house, child!" 
“I thought It was paid for." 
“ How on earth did you suppose i could pay 
such a urn dowr. and buy the furniture as 
well ?he answered, sharply. “J can tell you 
It took every cent I had in the bank, as it is." 
“ Hut the house expenses I What shall wo do 
about them ? " asked she, looking bewildered. 
He laughed again. "Is there no such thing 
as credit, Margaret ? " 
She was silent. 
“Get whatever you want at thesliop3, child. 
Of course you will be as economical as possible; 
but stiil we must live, you know. Once in three 
months or once in six months, i'll settle the 
bills. Then whatever we can have shall go to¬ 
ward clearing off this mortgage that seems to 
be such a bugbear in your eyes." 
“I will save in every possible way, Harry," 
she said, earnestly. “Jt is foolish, I suppose, 
but a mortgage is a bugbear to me. bather had 
a heavy one on his farm, Harry, and the first 
thing 1 remember as a little child is seeing him 
si'ting on the granary staircase near the big 
barn, sighing and groaning to himself. 1 was 
frightened, and ran and told mother; and she 
kissed mound began to cry, because she said 
the interest was duo on tiro mortgage money 
that week, and. poor father was unhappy be¬ 
cause ha could see no way to pay it." 
“And did ho pay It?" questioned Harry, 
somewhat interested. 
“Yes. Ha borrowed the money somewhere, 
and then, of course, there was the interest to 
pry on that: and so it wont on, from bad to 
worse, till father died, and the farm went back 
to Its owner. Mother said It had fairly worried 
him into his grave," she added, wiping the 
tears from her eyes. “ You cannot wonder if I 
am afraid of mortgages, after that." 
"But, pet, the two cases are entirely differ¬ 
ent," said her husband, kissing her cheek. 
“Your father was a poor farmer, and found it. 
impossible to raise money, 1 dare say. Now, I 
f m a thriving merchant, and If all goOS well, I 
hope t o make enough the coming year to clear 
our home. Don’t you see? Come, don't think 
of trouble aay more. Be a: careful as you can 
in tho house expenses, and you will find that 
wo shall own our pretty home, clear of any 
claim, before you know where you arc." 
lie drew her down to the wide crimson foot¬ 
stool before the fire, and resting her head upon 
h!s knee, began to read aloud. 
The Ore and lamp burn si clearly, the prett y 
French doc . on the mantelpiece ticked musi¬ 
cally and rang out its fairy hour chimes once 
before his voice ceased to echo in her ear. The 
hook was a lively a jd pleas int one, and Mar¬ 
garet was able to discu s it with him intelli¬ 
gently a : they lingered before the blaze lor one 
delicious half hour before going up stairs. 
Yet all the while her thou./httul eyes were 
seeing visions on the crimson coals, and her 
haart and brain were busily at work devistr g 
P>ans to wa. d off the evil that, to her, seemed 
10 be threatening the peaoe and comfort of their 
little <1 veiling so long a» any other person held 
a claim therann. 
Tito chiming bolls of the Freuch clo:k rang 
out ten, anc Margaret, rose and want about, the 
room putting It daintily in order bo ore leaving 
for tho night- Her pretty face was blooming 
and happy .<t in or, for at last she sa"u tho way 
clear before her to banish, with the energy God 
had given her, l his brooding cloud of evil from 
their domes:ic sky. 
******* 
As their married life began, so it went on, in 
the new home for nearly three years. The 
bouse expens as ware carefully kept down by 
Margaret, who made one servant answer where 
many of her ol her friends kept two; and once 
in throe months, or oltener in six, as the days 
wout on, the accounts w'ero settled by tho hus¬ 
band, cheerfully enough at first, but hy-and-by 
with sighs and shakes of the head, which Mar¬ 
garet seoniod not to notice, and <>f which she 
certainly never spoke. 
Luring the last of tto three years Harry’s 
handsome face began to wear a look of anxious 
care. Not a cent, so far, had been laid aside to 
pay off the mortgage on their home, and the 
chance of * uc< -ss s _>emed less than ever to him 
now, because, I " o'hers in business lie began 
to see a time pprosohltig which would “try 
men’s souls," 
The evening reading was gradually laid aside, 
and during the summer months of the year 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
Harry began to ait brooding after tea in his 
arm-chair before tho empty hearth, till Mar- 
ga*c t, without appearing to notice his depres¬ 
sion, c;*tne to him and induced him to a'com¬ 
pany her on a walk. At. such times he strode 
along beside her, silent and sad, and at home 
buried himself in the columns of the Banker’s 
Day-Book till It was time to go to bed. 
And all this time the true wife hold her peace. 
Sbe noticed everything — she guessed more; 
but. till the ice was brokon by him, it was not 
her place to speak. 
Sn It went on till thst dreadful autumn sea¬ 
son of cr.f ii after crash, ruin after ruin, old and 
long established houses toppling Into the gulf 
and carrying a thousand minor ones with them 
In their fall. Mm locked jrt each other with 
pale faces, asklig, “Who will go next?" arid 
all t hrough the country, wave after wave, the 
wide-spreading stream of desolation rolled on. 
During that one last hideous week of sus¬ 
pense, Harry Graham came and went between 
his store and his home, saying nothing, suffer¬ 
ing everything. On the Saturday evening lie 
went out, alone, for a stroll, after tea. But in 
half an hour lie was back again, having made 
up his mind in that brief time to tell Mar¬ 
garet all. 
He found her in tho parlor. She sat beside 
the window, heading oyer a small package in 
her lap. At hla sudden entrance she started 
and hid toe package In her pocket, blushing 
so violently that at any other time he would 
have noticed and wondered at it. But now his 
mind was full of his own troubles, and he had 
no leisure to notice t rilles. 
He wont straight up to his wife and took 
both her hands. “ Margaret,” said he, “ I am a 
ruined man. This panic—- " 
And then he broke down and burst into tears. 
He fell upon hi* knees beside her chair. 
“Oh, Margaret,*’ lie sobbed, “I thought I 
ooukl give you a pleasant borne 1 And now’we 
shall h» beggars ! ” 
Margaret put her arms around him, drawing 
his face down upon tier breast. When he was 
calmer* sbe kissed him and asked him to sit 
beside her and tell her all. 
Sbe listened mutely. “ Ami if the panic ends 
and these country cjstomera pay all that they 
owe you, can you go on, Harry?" she asked. 
“ Yes—that Is, I need not close thoBhopnor 
go through bankruptcy. But then Die panic 
may not end ; I see no signs of It at present. 1 
made every effort, but all In vain. I wish I was 
dead aud out of Die worry of all.” 
“Oh, Harry," cried Ills wife, reproachfully. 
“ Do you want to die and leave me ? " 
“They would not worry you for tho money, 
my darling, os they do mo. And yet, I cannot 
blame them," said he, sighing. “They want 
their money, and 1 feel like a thief as long as I 
withhold H from thorn. Margaret, 1 see Iffy 
mistake now," ho added, energetically. " Credit 
has been my bane. If I was beginning life 
again I would buy nothing that 1 could not pay 
for at the moment; and before I would live in 
a mortgaged house, I would build a log hut for 
myself . t Die foot of a tree! But there ! It ts 
too late to talk like that! ” ho concluded, bury¬ 
ing his face In his hands. 
“No, dear. It Is not too J <te! It is neVer loo 
late to try and do better! " said Margaret, 
wiping the tears from her own eyes. “ Hairy, I 
have always dreaded debt, as you know, ami l 
am so glad to hear you saythat you have grown 
afraid ■ t it, too. Oh! my dear, dear husband, 
take this. Pay all that we owe—pay off the 
mortgage. o:> Dm house—and then we will live 
on bread and water, if needs bo, Dll the better 
days come round again." 
“This" was n purple morocco pocket-book, 
well filled, which she thrust Into his hands, 
laughing and weeping at tho same moment with 
i>y- 
“ Open it—open it, Harry," she sobbed. “ It 
is ail yours; I have saved it for you." 
lie opened it. It was full of bank notes— 
tens, twenties, fifties, and two one hundred 
dollar notes nestling in a compartment, by 
themselves. Fifteen hundred dollars in al!! 
“Where in the world did all this money come 
from?" he asked, with an astonished look. 
Margirel wiped away her tears and kissed 
him. 
“Isn't it delightful, dear? " 
" But Is It yours, Margaret ? " 
“ li was. It- is yours now, Harry.” 
“ But where did you get it?" he persisted. 
“ I have not been out on the highway to rob 
people, and I have not committed burglary," 
laughed Margaret, whose goon spirits began to 
come back. "Com? upstairs, Harry, and you 
shall see the good Fairy I hat ear nod it.” 
IIo followed her. with a bewildered look, up 
into a pretty hack chamber, furnished with 
chairs, table and a stove. No :r one of the win¬ 
dows stood something covered over with a 
cloth. Margaret drew the cloth one side. It 
WAS A Slow I NT. MACHINE ! 
"liver silica I knew about Die mortgage on 
the hoiito I have used this," she said, looking 
at him with eves full of love. “1 had > I) tho 
work I could possibly do in your absent!©, and I 
was wall paid for it ; and when Uncle John 
came to see us this spring he give me tho two 
hundred dollar bills for a birthday presen'. I 
am so glad if the money can help you In your 
troubles, Harry.” 
" Help m el It, will save me I" said her hus¬ 
band, clasping her to his heart. “Oh, Mar¬ 
garet, 1 will repay you for your gift a thousand 
fold when once the good times come back 
again. This will pay off the mortgage and set¬ 
tle the bills, and pay our way through tho year 
if we are Careful. Ob, Margaret, what a treas¬ 
ure you are! ” 
“And wo will ask no more credit,” she whis¬ 
pered, with her Iips close to his ear. 
“ Not a bit, my love —so help me God. I say 
it fervently, my wife." 
And he kept his vow. 
-- 
AN INDIAN GIRL’S LOVE. 
The following romantic and pathetic ac¬ 
count of the love and death from a broken 
heart of the daughter of the celebrated Sioux 
chief, Spotted Tail, who has just been on a 
visit to Washington on affairs relating to the 
Black Hills region, was taken from the advance 
sheets of General Brisbln'a book : 
During the latter yearn of the war, part of 
Spotted Tail’s family remained for a time at 
Fort Laramie, and with them was his favorite 
daughter, a young girl just budding into 
womanhood. The fort was then garrisoned by 
companies of an Ohio regiment of volunteer 
cavalry. Among the officers of this regiment 
was a young man of good appearance and pleas¬ 
ant manners, and with whom the chief's 
daughter fell in love. Her passion does not. 
seem to have been reciprocated by the young 
soldier, and lie did all in bis power to convince 
her he could lint marry her, find, therefore, 
It would be wrong in him to pay his addresses 
to her. But tho infatuated girl would not be 
convinced, and could not iiudcmtiind why she, 
a princess and daughter of tho most powerful 
chief on the plains, was not a suitable wife for 
the young soldier. 1)riy after day she would 
dress herself with scrupulous care, and come to 
the fo:t to sec her beloved. It was pitiable id 
observe her, as hour alter hour sbe would sit 
on the doorstep of the young officer's quarters 
waiting for him to come out. 
Spotted Tail, hearing of the strange conduct 
of his daughter, and deeply mortified at her 
want of self-respect, hastened to Dm fort, and, 
putting her in charge ol some kind friends, 
hade them carry her off into the Rocky Moun¬ 
tains, where a portion of Ills tribe dwelt, and 
endeavor in every way to make her forget her 
unfortunate love. She wont away meekly 
enough, but fell into a deep melancholy, from 
which no effort of friends could arouse her. 
Presently she ref used to take any food, aud 
piued away to a mere skeleton. 
One day a courier, whose horse was white 
with foam, sought the great chief and told him 
that his daughter was dying of a broken heart, 
and wished to see him once more before she 
passed to Die happy spirit-land. 
Away over mountain mid stream hurried the 
chief, and paused not for food or rest until he 
reached the bedside of his beloved child. He 
found her still alivo but fast sinking, and she 
bid him sit beside her and Isold her fljshless 
hands lu his, while she told him ail her simple 
story of love and suffering and a brokon heart. 
She said, “I shall soon be at rest, my father, 
and with those of our kindred who have gone 
before, lu that beautiful land I will wait for 
you, and you will soon come to joio me, my 
dear father; for your locks are whitened with 
care; yon are fast growing old aud tired. You 
are a great chief aud have yet many warriors, 
l ilt the pale-laces are more numerous than the 
leaves of Dio forest, and 1 pray you to cease 
from warring w.th them. Sparc your people, 
my father; rest yet a little while in peace, and 
you will have reached the ond of your journey 
of life and come to Join me in tho happy home 
to which I am nowgolug. The pale-faces arc 
His people, end between you and them I hope 
war will never come again. And, oh my father 
and my chief, when 1 am dead, take my poor, 
wasted body and lay it on the hill beside the 
fort, where 1 learned to love so well!” The 
pulseless hands grew cold as the great chief 
promised his dying child all she asked of him; 
then the lustrous eyes gk»z?d over, the thin 
lips ceased to move, the smile fled from Die 
wasted Lice, and the Indian girl was dead. 
The heart-broken chief hade the attendants 
dreys the body of Die princess for burial, aud 
on the sliouldersof stout warriors i t was carried 
all the way to Laramie and laid to rest, among 
the pale-face.-*, one of whose race sbe had so 
. fatally loved. II u r grave is still pointed out, to 
! the traveler, aud there It w.II long remain a 
monument ol the saddest story of the plairu. 
Spotted Tail often speaks of his dead daughter 
with affectionate remembrance, and once, in a 
great Council held wil.n t he whites at Laramie, 
ho said, “ W’ero not the bopeleesm of rc?i-t- 
aneft and the dictates of policy sufficient to re¬ 
strain me troin acta of war. the pledge J made 
to my dead child in her dying hour would cause 
me to ksep at. peace with your people." 
CURE FOR DISCONTENT. 
A P Hit. A dei.phi A gentleman became tired 
of his house, which ho had built for himself in 
the country, and determined to sell it. He 
Instructed an auctioneer, (anions for Ids de¬ 
scriptive powers, to advertise It in the papers 
. ior private sale, but to conceal tho location, 
telling persons to apply at his offle >. in a few 
dais the gentleman happened to see the adver¬ 
tisement, was pleased with the account of the 
place. Minima i: t > his wife, and tho two con¬ 
cluded It was just what they w; nted, and they 
would secure it at once. So ho went io tho 
office of Dm auctioneer iiiiu told him the place 
he had advertised w as such a one as ho desired, 
aud lie would pmebuse it. The auctioneer 
burst into a laugh, aud told him mat that was 
the description id his own house where lie was 
living, lie rv'ici the advertisement again, pon¬ 
dered over the “grassy slopes," "beautiful 
vistas," "smoothlawn," “floegarden." "splen¬ 
did fruit," “good neighborhood," etc., aud 
broke out—“Is It possible? Well, make out 
my bill fur advertising and expenses—for I 
I wouldn't sell the place now for three times 
what it cost me." 
JULY 31 
jSahbatft Reading. 
HYMN FOR WHITSUNDAY. 
[The ** Vent Sancte Sptrltns," the most beautiful 
of all Latin hymns, ascribed to Robert the Pious. 
King of France, Jn the eleventh cemnry, ts appoint¬ 
ed tn the Roman Church tor Whitsuntide, and in 
Luther's “ Form nf Or.itnatlnn.“ (Daniel’s “ The¬ 
saurus HytnnolonicuB,” U. 56. v. C3-7t.) In the trans¬ 
lation the attempt has been made, while preserving 
as far as possible a verbal und rhythmical likeness 
to the original, to bring out the deeper meaning 
which belongs to the words when considered as de¬ 
scribing the purely spiritual aspect of Christianity.) 
Come. HoJv sjtrtt. from above. 
And from the malms of light and lova 
Thine own bright rays impart. 
Come, Father of the Fatherless, 
Come, Giver of aiT happiness. 
Come, Lamp of every heart. 
O-, Thou, of comforters the best, 
O. Thou, the soul’s most welcome guest. 
O. Thou, our sweet repose. 
Our resting place from life’s long care. 
Our shadow from the world’s fierce glare, 
Our solace Jn all woes. 
O. Light dtvtne, ail light excelling, 
Fill with Thysejf the iumost dwelling 
Of souls rinoero and lowly; 
Without Thy pure divinity. 
Nothing tn all humanity. 
Nothing is strong or holy. 
Wash out each dark and sordid stain— 
Water each dry and arid plain. 
Raise up the bruised reed. 
Knkindlc what is Cold and chill, 
Relax the stiff and st ubborn will, 
Guide those that guidance need. 
Give to the good, who find in Thee 
The Spirit’s perfect liberty, 
Thy sevenfold power and love. 
Give virtue strength its crown to win. 
Give struggling souls their rest from sin, 
Give endless peace above. 
[A. P. Stanley. 
-♦♦♦ 
RESURRECTION AND LIFE. 
The doctrine of a bodily insurrection is op¬ 
posed tn both common sense aud scientific 
knowledge, and utterly repugnant to the finer 
spiritual instincts of man. Whatever value it 
might have had in the religious life of past 
generations is now entirely outgrown, and it is 
time this crude, materialistic conception were 
relegated to the lumber room of Christian an¬ 
tiquities, to lake its pluoo with other faithful 
and grotesque reilca of superstitious ages. Na¬ 
ture herself is tho severest erf tie. and contradic¬ 
tion of such a theory. 
List summer, as I one day wandered through 
an old cemetery in the German city of Hanover, 
I chanced upon it most i mpresslvo testimony to 
this fact. It was the grave of a lady of rank, 
who had been laid to rest there more than a 
century ago. Above it rose a huge, sandstone 
sarcophagus, black with age and exposure, on 
which was graven her name, her titles, and the 
date* of her birth and death. Upon the stone 
platform beneath was this notable Inscription 
—evidently inspired by a belief of the resurrec¬ 
tion of the body—" This grave has been bought 
for eternity, and io never to be opened." Thus 
secured against Irreverent Intrusion the noble 
lady lay molding lor a century, awaiting her 
summons to renewed life. 
But in Die course or the years a little seed 
dropped into a erevice between the stones of 
the platform. Sheltered there from wind and 
storm,nourished by rain and sunshine, sprouted 
and grew a vigorous birch tree. 
In its need for more room it pried tho atones 
asunder more and more, and sent Its roots deep 
down Into the grave below; while as it grew 
upward In Us lusty young lire, it. railed little 
by little tho heavy weight above it, liking the 
huge sarcophagus over on to its edge. When I 
saw it, the monument tottering to its fall, the 
open grave y awning beneath, while over all the 
birch tree triumphantly waved its branches, as 
It in derision of that injunction still legible on 
the crumbling stone beneath, “This grave has 
been bought for eternity, and is never to be 
opened." 
What a commentary on the doctrine of the 
bodily resurrection! What a satire on the as- 
'umption that, amid all t he vicissitudes of time 
and the decays and transformations of matter, 
the bodily organism is exceptionally persistent 
and, preserving Its material identity, w II re-ap- 
pear in space and time !— iWcncltc. 
-- 
CONFIDENCE. 
In Dr. Day’s last coutrijution to the Star 
occurs this beautiful passage:—" ‘ If God be for 
us, whu can be against us?’ That is the que:- 
tlon of one to w’.om God’s helpfulness was a 
constant reality in expert© ice as well as a lead¬ 
ing art.lclu of faith. Such a soul Is beyoDd a 
serious and palsying doubt. There is ever a 
calm looking for victory. There may bo clouds, 
dangers, disasters, repulses but, in spite of ail, 
there is a calm utterance, * 1 know that my Re¬ 
deemer lireth‘I know In whom I have be¬ 
hoved ;’ ‘Though I walk through the valley of 
the shadow of death, I will fear no ev 1;’ 
‘Thanks be unto God who glvetli uetbevl - 
toryl’ Such a sense of God’s helpfulness Is a 
b easing that nu words may Lilly rxpreSH. What 
it. i:; worth only they can know rf whoso life it 
has become a part. It is at once the rock on 
which their feet rest without shaking, and the 
(istiint peal of the trumpet that berads their 
coronatigp." 
