I 
08T. 2 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
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UNDER THE DAISIES. 
IT Is ssrange whst a (treat deal of trouble we take. 
What sacrifice most or us willingly make. 
How the lips will smile, thoueh the heart. may acho. 
And we b od to the ways of the world for the sake 
Of Its poor and scanty praises. 
And time runs on with such pitiless glow. 
That our lives are wasted before wo know 
What work to finish before we go 
To our long rest under toe daisies. 
And too often we fall In a useless light; 
For wrong la so much in the plaoe of right. 
Ana the end Is so far beyond our sight— 
"l'ls as one starts on a chase by night. 
An unknown shade pursuing. 
Kven so do we say. when our race is run. 
That of all wo bnvo striven for little is won. 
And of all the work our strength has done 
How little was worth the doing. 
flo most of us travel with very noor speed. 
Falling in thought whete we conquer In doed. 
Least brave Id the hour of greatest need. 
And raaktn* n riddle that few may read 
Of our poor life's Intricate mazes, 
finch a labyrinth oC right and wrong. 
Is It strange that a heart, once bravo and strong, 
Should falter at last, and most earnestly long 
For a o dm sleep under the daisies ? 
But If ono poor troubled heart can say, 
M His kindness softened my llfo’s rough way,” 
And tho tears full over our lifeless clay. 
Wo shall stand up in heaven in brighter array 
Thao If all earth ran? with our praises. 
For the good we have done shall never fade. 
Though the work we wrought and the wages paid, 
And the wearied frame of the laborer laid 
AU peacefully under tile daisies. 
®ur £torg-Si^ltyr. 
“ SWEET BROWN ZAIDE I” 
BY MRS. MARY D. BRINE. 
Sweet Brown Zaide 1 always pure and sweet 
In her neat brown suit, and the pretty brown 
hat and feather! And that Is why she was 
otilod "Sweet Brown Zaide,” by Harry 
Drown, as <lnv after day he saw her pass his 
office. 8 le passed twice a day. In fact—early In 
the morning, and again quite late in the after¬ 
noon, and the young lawyer, who was forui- 
nate'y quite Independent of his profession, had 
grown strangely interested Id the girl, even be 
fore h« quite accidentally discovered her name 
to be Z vide; and the pecul arlty of her uarne 
only Interested him the more In Its owner. 
She was not not, as heroines usu tlly are de¬ 
scribed, “ fair as on angel,” with heavenly blue 
eve-<, and ethereal frame, with flowing curls of 
burnished gold brushed loosely hack from a 
snowy forehead.—or, excuse me, I meant to coll 
It— brow. Quite the contrary, this Z VIDE was 
totally unltkc an angel, and Inclined to the bru¬ 
nette style of beauty. Her eyes were blue to he 
sure, hut they had a dear little habit of turning 
to -lack or gr iy, according to different lights, 
so that her must Intimate friends didn't feel 
willing to take oath upon the sexual color >f 
Zaidk'S eyes. Her h lir was as unlike "bur¬ 
nished gold" as the darkest of brown hair can 
be, and instead of bamriog loosely ovrr her 
shoulders. In the usual untidy heroine style, 
was always as neatly braided and coiled, or ar¬ 
ranged after its owner's own fashion, as the 
style of the present day required. 
Far from ethereal was our heroine’s figure, 
since one recognized veritable flesh and blood 
when Zaide appeared, and the stately, graceful 
gait convinced one that it would require the 
strongest kind of tornado to waft this very 
human young person heavenward. I suppose 
not everybody would call Zaidb Buckley pret¬ 
ty, but those who loved her cbooBe to think so, 
and Harry deolired privately to his foolish 
heart that "nobody was hair so beautiful,” In 
his opinion, and his heart of course agreed. 
So days and weeks pas-md and our hero could 
wal-. no longer to dlsoover the young lady’s 
name. But just as he marie up his mind to de¬ 
liberately steal the coveted Information in some 
way, ohance favored him, aad a mutual ac¬ 
quaintance who hapoenail to he with him one 
morning when Zaire passed, Informed him 
that " By George, tnere goes Miss Zaide Buck- 
ley 1" 
“Do you know the young lady?” inquired 
Harry, quite Indifferently. 
“ Yes," was the reply; " that Is, I've met her 
in the oholr of-ohurob. She sings there, 
and we are on bowing terms, that’s all. Be¬ 
lieve she is teaohlng In one of the ward sohools 
up this way." 
“Stately looking girl, Isn't she?" replied 
Harry, indlfferent'y turning over a pile of low 
papers, and appearing careless and unconcerned 
enough. 
" Well—ye-o-s, rather,” oarne the answer; 
" but not my style—too hard to get acquainted 
with her. I hate your reserved women! By- 
the-by. Brown, oomlng to the Ctub to-night ?” 
"0,1 suppose so—going? Well, good bye, old 
fel’ w!" and Harry U presently alone. 
" N tine Is Z tiD3, el» ? ' be murmured, forget¬ 
ting Ms law papers and everything else in fact 
but Zvidb. "Tenches school near here; b/ 
Giorgel that's too bad 1 Sie ought to be a 
quesn—my queen, for tnsiaioe. H ,rd to get 
acquainted with too. White said. He‘bates 
reserved women,' does he? Well, J say, God 
bless reserved women, It they are all like this 
one, who Is the sweetest woman I ever saw! 
Z aide,Zaide— tweet brownZAXDEl Yes, that’s 
what I shall oall her, for she always wears 
brown, aDd.by George I brown is my favorite 
color!” (So green would have been If Zaide 
had happened to wear ltd 
" Now Harry, don’t go to the office so aw¬ 
fully early this morning! Don't you remember 
Alice Moore Is comlog to visit us, end you 
must meet her at the depot at ten o'clock.” 
Harry groaned inwardly and remembered 
who would pass his office precisely at quarter 
of nine. But since Mr. Brown’s death Harry 
was the only masculine of his Immediate fami¬ 
ly, so of course to the depot lie was obligod to 
go, relieving bis feelings, however, by a nttldb 
expressed wish that “ Miss ALICE he —•” his 
sister wasn't sure whether the last, word was 
“hanged” or no. hut she reproached Harry 
for nou-pollteness and then forgave him. 
Miss MOORE was an adopted daughter of 8 
rich old Indian East Indian, you know—and 
there was every reason to believe that she oared 
more for bis proper'y than for him. He had 
long ago, In a mean business transHCtlon, rob¬ 
bed a friend of large sums which no quibble of 
the law could recover from him,and this Alice 
was sole heiress to the man's legitimate as well 
as his Ill-gotten wealth. She bad during a sea¬ 
son of travel made the acquaintance of Miss 
Brown, and In response to an invitation from 
the latter was now on her way fora visit of 
some weeks. Harry met her at the depot, 
escorted her to his home, then unceremoniously 
departed office-ward. 
Days slipped into weeks and Harry was tor¬ 
mented by mothor and si*ter with, “Do be 
more attentive to Alice; she is worth more 
money than you can ever make, and could buy 
us out forty times over. Do try and win her If 
you can!” But the young lawyer niestn-^ldle 
had managed to put hlrmelf and Zaide Buck- 
ley on speaking terms, thanks to skillful ma¬ 
neuvering, and would not have exohangod her 
smile arid the dimple which always accompan¬ 
ied It. for a hundred Amok Moores and all the 
wealth of the Todies. Moreover, be had got 
Into the habit of walking up to the large build¬ 
ing where Zaidb spent, the tiresome days, and 
then waiting till the boy a and gins and teachers 
were at liberty to breathe, and then, whether 
Zaide were willing or no, he would not leave 
tier side until the ferry was crossed andshe was 
enfo at, her own door. 
Meanwhile Haury’ 8 friend Write was hard 
at work paying his addresses to Miss Moore. 
and qo'te convinced the heiress that no woman 
save herself could eter make him happy. She 
would have preferred, If choice bad been al¬ 
lowed, to see Harry at her feet, but his heart 
was all bound up in Zaidb, who had only hsr 
salary and was very far from being an heiress. 
And If Miss MOORE could have seen the devo¬ 
tion which shone out of tho handsome fellow’s 
eyes, and almost glorified Ills faoe, when Zaide 
was with him. she would surely have detected 
the spurious coin which WniTE offored her for 
her wealth's sweet sake. 
Of course Mrs. and Miss Brown guessed noth¬ 
ing of all this romance of Harry’s. They only 
knew he bad more need to seem so devoted to 
business, and whereas his former hours for 
Joining bis family had been two and three 
o’clock, P. M., now It was seldom he appeared 
before half-past five, and then, ns hisslsteronce 
obsorved, " Bustuese must be splendid with 
Hal, be comes In so happy. Why, Harry, you 
look as Joyous as though every wish of your 
heart were gratified.” 
Well, so be was happy I And why not? Such 
a persistent, lover girl never before knew! " Miss 
Buckley" bad long ago changed to “Mlsa 
Zaide," and presently “Zaidi" was quite 
enough, for wit his whole heart and soul 
Harry Brown ,,ved Zatdk Buckley. She 
knew It, of coutse, long before ho mustered 
courage to tell her f o, and In her woman’s heart 
*he was glad. It h d been simply Impossible 
for her to resist h.6 loving, coaxing heart, and 
it last she yielded and let hi in love her his own 
way—wit,b eyes, and tongue, and hands, and 
with every little act of thoughtfulness his lov¬ 
ing. bappv heart prompted. What cared he for 
money If Zaide could not share It with him? 
tlo only wanted her sweet self, and none other 
In all the world. And one day he called hla 
mother aside and confided all his seoret to her 
mother-love. 
"Iam disappointed, my hoy," she said, sadly, 
"l’or Alici; will bo very rich, and you might 
have learned t ► love her.” But H ARRY argued 
tho possibility of happiness without too much 
of the "root of nil evil;" and the lady dis¬ 
missed Mlsa MOORE from her heart, making 
r <om for her son’s choice when opportunity 
favored an Introduction. 
Meanwhile young Write had seized his 
chance, and without one ounce of love In his 
heart, triumphantly asked the Browns to" con¬ 
gratulate him," &o. A few days after ALICE 
waa summoned l y telegram to the death-bed 
of hcradoptea parent, and White accompanied 
her to look after her comfort (or her money)— 
poor bereaved girl I 
Weeks passed. June came with its roses, and 
HARRY grew daily more entranced with his 
"Sweet, brown Zaide,” aa he still called her. 
She never made a fuss over him! Not she! 
Quiet, reserved, almost cold, she was, and If she 
had been called an Iceberg, 1 think It would 
sometimes have served her right. Hut Harry 
knew what a dear, warm heart hla love had 
reached, and not nnfrequently that heart be¬ 
trayed Itself. "Couldn't you find somebody 
bettor worth your loving than lam ?” she would 
a*k now and then, and for answer he whis¬ 
pered, "Only mia Zaidb." And what could she 
do with such a persistent fellow. 
It is one year since the E et Indian’s death. 
Harry, in his room dressing for his wedding. 
Is handed a telegram which reads:—"HAL. old 
boy, Alice and I were married last, night. W 111 
be with you in three weeks. Hurrah !" 
" Hum ! ’’ thinks Harry. “ 1 can Bay ‘ hurrah,' 
A. BEAUTIFUL TTOIVL il SCENE, 
Oun engraving gives the artist's Ideal of “ Sweet Home "—the family bound together by the 
goldeu ties of love, aud keeping thus the one spot bright and pure. 
for within an hour Zaide, sweet, brown Zaidb, 
will be a very brown Zaide, or my name Isn't 
Brown. Then he locks In tho glass and sees 
a face with " Zaide ” looking out, of the eyes, 
and his arms fairly' ache to dose themselves 
round the graceful figure which be knows Ib 
even now being arrayed for the bridal. How 
long, think you, does It rako this impatient 
lover to drive to Zaide's house, to rush up to 
her room, and before the crowd of attendants 
and friends, clasp her close In hla arms and kiss 
the sweet mouth till It fairly implores him 
"not to tumble the vail, at least till after the 
wedding!" 
Then follows a q deter season, during which 
Zaide Buckley—“S weet, Brown Zudk’’— is 
changed to "Sweet Zaide Brown," and vaca¬ 
tion has commenced. 
“See, Harry, a letter from papa!" exclaims 
ZATDB one week after, arid t wo heads are bent 
over t he letter. Then a start—a puzzled f ice 
for Zaide, a laughing face for Harry, who 
reads aloud—" You will be surprised to learn 
that by the will of a former friend, ono Robert 
Moore, who robbed me years and years ago, 
yon, roy daughter, are possessed of more than 
half his property. It seems his conscience 
troubled him, and the old rascal thought to 
atone for his guilt by leaving ibis wealth to you 
In case you could bo found. He doubtless be¬ 
lieved me dead, and T presume ills daughter 
wishes you wore. The lawyers seiirched among 
‘ Buckley' for a year almost, and Just found us 
in time to make the will valid. (Jut the ways of 
Providence are past flndlngout, and It Is a great 
comfort for me to know that my child la at 
last the rich woman she was born to be.” 
The rest of the letter doesn't, concern us, so 
we will pass on to f ho time of Harry 8 return 
home. Of Alice White wo will Lear nothing 
more, but Uarrt was made conscious of bis 
friend Wiiiteh presence one morning— Jutt 
after he had kissed Zaide good-by and stilted 
for hla office—liy a doleful voice which ex¬ 
claimed : 
“ I say, Brown, old fellow, that was a shabby 
trick you played on mo. You told me Alice 
was an heiress." 
Harry couldn’t restrain a smile, but he re¬ 
plied honestly: “Sorry for you White, but I 
believed all I told you. I married my wife for 
love, and if you had done 'lie same for your 
wife,you’d nay, 'Hang the will! I've got my 
wife whether or no I’ ” 
--*-*"♦- 
THE BEGGAR GIRL OF PARIS, 
During the "JReign of Terror" In France 
there were many deeds of daring performed, 
even by women. The very streets of Paris were 
deluged with blood. But near the guillotine it 
ran In rushing torrents. One dark mornln? an 
unusual number of the aristocracy had been 
marched forth ; countless heads rolled from the 
block. A gaping multitude stood by, and with 
shouts rent the air as the aristocracy were thus 
butchered. 
Among the assembled multitude that, dreary 
morning were two females. One of them was 
plainly dad, while a cloak was thrown 
around her with which she kept, her features 
nearly concealed. But a oIosg observation 
would betray the fact that tho woman had been 
weeping. Her eyes were inflamed and red, and 
she gazed cage/ly upon the platform, while a 
shock of the glittering knife severed the head 
from the body of someone who had been un¬ 
fortunate enough to fall under the ban of the 
two leaders. The faco of the woman was very 
beautiful, and she was young-certaiuly not 
more than sixteen or eighteen years of age. 
Tho other female was quite different, in char¬ 
acter. Her face was fair, but th-re was a brazen 
expression about it. She was clad in rags, aud 
as each bead fell she would dance aud in 
various ways express her delight, and then ex¬ 
claim : 
"There falls another aristocrat who refused 
me charity when I humbly sued him.” 
Each expression of this kind would create a 
laugh from those who beard her, though any 
thoughtful person must wonder how one so 
young could have been so depraved. 
The first female watched this creature a few 
moments, and then pressing one hand to her 
side she laid the other upon tho shoulder of the 
wretch and whispered: 
"Would you like to become rich at once.” 
The female in rags turned about with a look 
of surprise, burst Into a loud laugh, and then 
replied: 
"Of course I would." 
“ Follow me, aud you shall bo.” 
“Enough. Lead on.” 
It was with considerable difficulty that the 
females extricated themselves from the crowd ; 
but they did so at length, and then the first 
fern-ile naked the other: 
"What shall I call you?” 
"Oh, I am called the Beggar Girl Marie." 
“ You live by begging ?” 
"Yes; but what’s your name, and what do 
you want?” 
“ My name Is Marie, the s»m3 as your own.” 
"Are you an aristocrat?” 
" It dots not inattrr. If you know where wo 
can Hud a room, lead me to U and you shall 
have gold.” 
The pauper led the Way Into a narrow, filthy 
street, and then down Into a dark and filthy 
room. The other female could not but leel a 
sickening sensation creep over her, but she re¬ 
covered herself. After contemplating for a 
time the apartment aud what It contained she 
asked; 
