242 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW- YORKER. 
OUT. & 
oou’d I trust him who loved me so? 1 did trust, 
never losing faith In my friend. My mother 
had *'cen told the whole Btory. and was happy 
in my happiness. 
A year and more passed, when one day with 
the suddenness of a vision, a young officer of 
the Northern Army appeared before me as I sat 
on the piazza. “ Ob, Ma Belli.!—Ma Belle 1” 
I could not call any otbor name in my eui prise. 
Yes, 1 married that spy at the end of three 
weeks, and my mother went with us to our 
homo uear Philadelphia. 
--- 
JOHN TODD’S REFORMATION. 
lx not unfrequently happens that when pray¬ 
ers, and entreaties, and shame, suffering, and 
degradat ion have failed to check a man in his 
down-hill court.©, some incident seemingly 
changes the whole current of his life. I have 
such an Incident in mind. You may know my 
hero as John Todd. A few yet living will know 
him by another name. 
John Todd had sunk very low. Once he bad 
been gay, handsome audbaopy. When he made 
Mary homers his wife, there was not a young 
man in onr village whose prospects earned 
brighter, But the demon of drink seized him. 
It was a gradual going dow n. "Wife and chil¬ 
dren were m-glt.cted ; true friends were for¬ 
saken ; the low and the debased were his cho¬ 
sen companions, and poverty and want fell 
upon his once happy household. 
For months and years Iris friends tried to save 
John Todd. They expostulated, they prayed, 
they begged, they reasoned, but all to no avail; 
and at length they gave it up. 
One night, quivering and shaking, with not a 
penny in hla pocket, John Todd entered bis 
dilapidated homo and asked Ilia wife for liquor. 
She told him there was not a drop in the bouse. 
Ho cursed her savagely and then commenced 
to search, professing to believe that she had 
liquor hidden away somewhere. At length, 
away back on one of the shelves of a small 
looker over t he fireplace ho found a bottle the 
contents of which smelled Kite rum. As be 
raised It to his lips hla wife, who had been 
watching him, sprang forward and dashed the 
bottle from his hand, shivering it upou the 
hearth. 
With afleree oath John Todd smote his wife 
to the floor, suplno upon the broken gls6s, and 
then staggerod away to his bed. lie would not 
go out again for he had no money. 
On the following morning bis oldest child, a 
girl of twelve years, came to his bedside. 
“ 0, papa, do you know what you did last 
Dlgllt ?’’ 
He had a dim recollection, but made no reply'. 
“You knocked mamma down and cut her 
badly." 
“ Aye, child, she—she"*—- 
“ She saved your life, papa. That was poison 
in the bottle you were holding to youi-lips—a 
most dreadful poison.” 
" Poison, child ?" 
“Yes, don’t you remember what grandma 
sent over for mamma to kill bugs with ? It was 
corrosive sublimate and alcohol." 
John Todd sank back upon his pillow'and did 
not get up until noon. When ho arose be was 
very we.,k and tremulous. lie dressed himself 
and went out into the kitchen, where ho saw 
bis wife standby the fireplace, with a napkin 
bound around her heed. He went to her side, 
and laid his hand upon her shoulder. 8he 
turned and looked Into his face, but he did not 
speak. He only kissed her and then went out. 
Only kissed her? Wnat did It meuu ? Mary 
Todd caught her hands over her heart to crush 
back the sudden, surging hope. It were mad¬ 
ness to hope now. And yet, with the impress 
of tii© kiss upon her cheek, and with the mem¬ 
ory of the look that had accompanied it, she 
sauk upon her knees and wept and prayed, 
John Todd wont away into the woods, where 
he wandered until nightfall, and with the last 
gleam of the sotting sun he wasuponhis knees, 
his palsied bandsreverently folded, speaking a 
vow to Heaven that hla homo should be once 
more happy if be could make It so. 
Out of the darkness of desolation, oven in the 
midst of ruin, comes the angel of hope and 
promise to the stricken home. Mary hdterd and 
saw, and took heart, and gave her smile aud 
blessing to the work. 
That was twenty years ago. John Todd has 
kept the Rsith from that day to this. He is be¬ 
loved, respected and honored wherever he is 
known ; and a happier woman than his wife is 
not to be found anywhere. 
-- 
IT WAS A BEE. 
ANY one passing along Howard street before 
noon Tuesday, would nave seen him lying under 
one of the shade trees of his yard, a pillow 
under his head, his feet on a bench and a mag¬ 
azine in his hauds. He looked the picture of 
comfort and contentment.,and the women who 
were going along with pull-back dresses on 
sighed and wlslieu tney were men. 
The great City Hal hell struck the hour of 
noou. The deep-toned echoes floated out ou 
the still surnmor air and touched a teuder chord 
in the Howard street man’s heart. The echoes 
sounded to him like funeral whispers— like the 
whispers of the night wind sighing through the 
grand old wilderne. s. 
“ Oh, solemn bell 1" ho said. ** Oh I sad, sol¬ 
emn-1" 
Tnat was all he said about the bell. A bum¬ 
ble bee settled down on him to look for sugar, 
and as he turned partly over ho gave the bee a 
rub. It Is a bad thing to rub any kind of a bee. 
He feels insulted and gets annoyed at things 
which a mud turtle or a dove would pass by 
without a thought. The echoes of the boll were 
just dying away when the Howard street man 
got up. He got up like a man in a hurry. He 
went away from there. Ho didn’t meander—he 
went like a rocket. Something seemed to ail 
him. lie made aline for the house, went up 
the steps at a bound and, as his wife asked b'm 
the cause of Ids haste, he replied : 
“Thunder—oop! hoop!" 
“ Is this house on fire?" she asked, as be tore 
around the parlor and upset things. 
“ House be-oop! Lordy !” be answered, as 
he made a circle of the room and dashed into 
the fall. 
The dog rushed after him, the wife rushed 
after the dog, and the man bounded out of the 
house. 
“Are you crazy, Robert?" shrieked the wife, 
os she beheld him pounding his legs wich hla 
new f ilk hat. 
Two or three boys ran in from the street, a 
strange dog come In and got up n light, and ail 
things conspired to make « lively time. 
“ He’s got the colicyelled one of the boys. 
“Or the tremors!’’ shouted another. 
“See that hat !" called a third. 
“ Boys, go out of hero !" whispered the pant¬ 
ing man as he stopped using bis bat. They 
went out, and as he limped into the house, bis 
tearful wife asked: 
“Now, then, will you tell mo what has hap¬ 
pened ?” 
“No, I won’t! ’ lie shouted, end he didn’t. 
She fell Into hysterics at the thought that, ho 
had used his brain too much and had become 
suddenly crazed, aud bo went down to the drug 
store and applied arnica to the spot, and in¬ 
formed too clerk that eleven thousand of tno 
largest kind of bumble bees settled right down 
on him in a body.— Detroit Free Press. 
■-- 
WONDERFUL EFFECT OF CLIMATE. 
Sms came from Detroit, Michigan, and her 
great pride was In being an invalid. Shelost no 
opportunity In saying that “she came to Min¬ 
nesota to recuperate the cellular tissue* of the 
left auricle of her respiratory anatomy." She 
did not hesitate to enter into conversation with 
any person she came into contact with, giving 
advice, climatological or physiological, to in¬ 
valids, and seeking tho same from those of ro- 
olist health. 
Her conversation was always prefaced vith 
the Introductory inquiry, sd common to visit¬ 
ors, “ Did you come bore for your health ?" She 
once addressed a stalwart, rudy-faoed young 
man at the dinner-table of the Metropolitan a 
few days since, and the following dialogue en-, 
sued: 
“Yes, madam, I came here probably the 
weakest person you ever saw. I had no use of 
my limbs; in fact, my bones were but little 
tougher than cartilages. I had no intelligent 
control of a single muscle, nor the use of a sin¬ 
gle faculty." 
“Groat heavens,” exclaimed the astonished 
auditor, “ and you liver) ?" 
“ I did, although I was devoid of sight, was 
absolutely toothles s, unable to articulate a sin 
glo word, and dependent, apon others for every¬ 
thing. being completely deprived of all power 
to help myself. I commenced to gain immedi¬ 
ately upon tho arrival, and have scarcely ex¬ 
perienced a sick day since. Hence 1 cuu con¬ 
scientiously recommend the climate." 
" A wonderful cane!”said tho lady, “but do 
you think your lungs were affected?” 
“ They were probably sound, hut possessed so 
little vitality, .that, but for the most careful 
nurslug, they must have ceased their func¬ 
tions." 
“I hope you found kind friends, sir?” 
“Indeed, I did, madam; and it is to them 
and the puro air of Minnesota that I owe my 
life. My father's family were with me; but, 
unfortunately, my mother was prostrated with 
a severe illness during the time of my greatest 
1 rbstrallou." 
" How sad t Pray, what was your treatment 
and diet?" 
"My diet was the simplest possible—consist¬ 
ing only oi milk, that being the only food my 
system could bear. As for treatment, I de¬ 
pended entirely upon the life-giving properties 
of the air of Minnesota, and took no medicine 
except an occasional light narcotic when very 
restless. My improvement dated from ray ar¬ 
rival. My limbs soon became strong; my sight 
and voice came to me slowly ; and a full S9t of 
tcc-tb, regular and firm, appeared.” 
“ Remarkable—miraculous I fcurely, sir, you 
must have been greatly reduced in flesh ?" 
“ Madam, I weighed but nine pounds: I was 
born in Minnesota 1”— St. Paul Pioneer-Press. 
-- 
A SLIGHT MISTAKE. 
Tiie custom of naming villages after certain 
persons living in the neighborhood, has some 
disadvantages, as the following incident will 
allow ; 
A farmer in Western Pennsylvania had lived 
to a mature age and bad never been on a jour¬ 
ney by railroad, A new road having at last bean 
made through purl of hla land, he was persuaded 
to pay a visit to Philadelphia, and haying been 
assured that, lie would not have to change, he 
placed himself comfortably iu the corner of hiB 
^eat and soon went to sleep. 
After a long nap he was awoke by tho train’s 
slacking speed, and presently the brakeman 
put his bead into tbe car and cried out, in a 
commanding tone: 
“ Madison ’ Madison I" 
The farrne* started up and hurried out of tbe 
oar as quick as possible. 
In a moment the train proceeded on its way, 
and the man, looking around him, found that 
he was tho only passenger that had aligbtsd. 
He took a turn or two up and down the plat¬ 
form, and presently tho ticket agoDt made his 
appearance. To him he said, “ How far is it to 
Philadelphia, sir ?” 
“Well, that t’.ain that has just left will be 
there in six hours. Did you waDt to go to Phil¬ 
adelphia ?” 
“Yes, to be sure. Here's roy ticket. Don't 
it pass me to Philadelphia ?” 
“Yes, your ticket 1 b all right; blit why did 
you leave the train?" 
“The man called out ‘Madison’ plainly 
enough, aDd that’s roy name, so I reokoned he 
meant me." 
“0, Madison is the name of this station.” 
The farmer reached Philadelphia in safety by 
the next train, and on Ills return home told is 
friends of his mishap. One of them, especially, 
was very much amu.-,ed and laughed heartily, 
to whom tbe farmer retorted : 
"1 guess if he'd called out‘Tom Johnson,’ 
you’d have got out mighty quick, too.” 
■ - ♦♦♦ 
HOW TO GET A WIFE. 
A California correspondent of the New 
York Times shows how John Chinaman man¬ 
ages the matilmontal lottery: “A Chinaman 
in want of a wife scrapes together hip w-ages 
and *eod» tho amount home, generally to hi 3 
father or mother, wit.li an order for a wife, and 
they go into tbo market and make the best bar¬ 
gain they oan, according to the money to Vie 
invested. Sometimes the amount is era II, and 
a really first-class article cannot be had for tbo 
sum; hut tho old woman generally does her 
best, ships over the woman consigned t j her 
son, who meets her at the steamer with his hill 
of lading, pays height and charges, and takes 
his property. If any of y iur readers want to 
know the price of tho real useful wife of this 
sort, of reliable Color, warranted to wash, (Mon¬ 
days.) 1 can Inform them, as tny Celestial, Ah 
Earn, who dusts out my office, has recently im¬ 
ported one. Sam sent money to bis mother, 
and In due courae of time the purchase arrived, 
and Sam brought her down for my inspection. 
She was as ugly a Chinese woman as I ever saw. 
I said, ‘Sam, not handsome, eh?’ Sam says, 
‘Not handsome much; handsome gal costs 
heaps money, aud all time kick up bobbery.’ 
Sam had the Correct idea of it, and was wisely 
content with a plain article, that was most 
likely to stay with him. Sum informed me that 
the original cost with freight, and charges, waa 
5300—all she was wort. , if I am a Judge of that 
species of goods, gained from a mild expe¬ 
rience." 
-*-♦-*- 
THE GOOD BYES AT THE SHIP’S SIDE. 
Don Piatt, writing back from Europe, de¬ 
scribes some partingseenea which he witnessed 
on the wharf at New York : Wo looked calmly 
at all going on all about us. How frantically 
wiveB threw themselves into the arms of fond 
husbands, and wet their shirt bosom with the 
salt water cf our life’s sea. 
Said one, between sobs, "It was so cruel of 
you not to let me tako Ned. I know’-ow-ow 
he’ll be neglected and sur-sur-suffer." 
Nod, pet name for a child wo thought, bow 
hard to have the mother separated from tbe 
darling of her heart. But tbe busbaud, his 
eyes wet w'ith tears, assured her that Ned 
should not be neglected. He would see to Ned 
himself. 
“And cut his meat and make his bed ?” sobbed 
she. 
“ Yes, darling.” 
“And bathe him in bran and warm water, 
and comb and cu-cu-ouri his tail ?’’ 
“ Yes," there was no mistaking It, Neddy was 
a dog, little dog. a wrotebed poodle or black 
and tau, that waa drawing from the depth these 
burning tears. 
We turned away disgusted, to bear another 
grief-stricken creature say: 
“ Do tako care of yourself, dear, and write 
every steamer. If I miss a steamer 1 shall be 
wretched. And, dear, couldu’t you telegraph 
me what that jury does in the Beecher trial? 
Very mean in them. I was certain they’d do 
something before we sailed.” 
-4-A-4- 
A HEROINE BY MISTAKE, 
The Lexington (Ky.) Gazette heartlessly 
spoils a thrilling story which recently came 
Irom that city. It says: “One dark night, not 
long ago, a burglar entered a private residence 
on Broadway. On ascending one flight of stairs 
he observed a light In a chamber, and while de¬ 
liberating what to do, a largo woman suddenly 
descended upon him, seized him by the throat, 
pushed him down through the ball, and forced 
him into the street before he had time to think, 
‘Heroic Repulse of a Burglar by a Woman ’ was 
tho way the story was told the noxt day. But. 
when friends called and congratulated her up¬ 
on her oourage, she exclaimed, • Good gractous, 
I didn’t know it was a burglar. If l bad I 
should have been frightened to death. I 
thought it waa my busbaud come home drunk, 
and l was determined he shouldn’t, stay in the 
house in that condition." 
CANTICLES 2: 4. 
I sat alone—I saw the banquet spread. 
I raw the guests In wedding robes pass by; 
I saw each to the place assigned Him led. 
" No place for me," I thought with weary sigh. 
I sat alone—my eyes were dim with tears; 
My soul was famt. and hunger pressed me sore. 
“Must I.” I cried, “through all the coming years 
See others feast, yet hunger evermore ? ’ 
Then starting up. I said, “ The King I’ll seek. 
And at His feet will lay my treasures all; 
Perchance that Ho some gracious word may speak, 
Some crumbs may grant that from His table fall.’ 
So. scarcely seeing for the blinding tears. 
One forward step I took, and fainting, fell; 
Btu swift was raised by One who cnlmed my fear*. 
And gently whispered, “ Daughter, all is well!” 
Then looking up, I first beheld tho King. 
In all His glorious beauty, bent! o’er; 
White-robed I stood, and on my hand a ring. 
And heard. “ Como sup with me, nor hunger more.” 
Fast clinging to H a hand, 1 reached tbo board. 
And by nis 9l(Je I sat, a willing guest— 
Thus to be honored by my gracious Lord: 
I had not dreamed that I could ho so blest. 
He fed me with nishnnd. and ns He gave 
Of Bweetcst things, I raised my eyes above 
And raw a allken banner o’er me wave, 
And on its folds I re.ad the one word. Love. 
[ Boston Cultivator. 
-*-*-*- 
THE REALITY OF CHRIST’S LIFE. 
Wiien we look at the picture of Christ in the 
New Testament, and see him moving through 
tho “forty days” and the “forty hours of sor¬ 
row. w© are wont to lose the significance of 
this great struggle by so exalting tho divine as 
to make it sweep away the human and to make 
Christ only an actor upon a stage. His tempta¬ 
tion seems slight, his suffering slight, his tears 
only illustrative of what man ought to shed. 
There la such a feeling that tbero must have 
been In Christ such a sense of unused power, 
such a knowledge of what he could do ir only 
it were best for the scheme of salvation, that 
before this feeling tbe thrilling scones in his 
life become only tho successive acts in a well- 
performed drama. Rut we must never exalt 
the divine at the expense of the slucere. Far 
bettor place Christ down among dependent, 
helpless beings, than suffer any of the scenes of 
the New Testament to bo in our minds as pieces 
of u drama or a pantomime. Apparent tempta¬ 
tion, apparent grief, apparent agony in the gar¬ 
den, apparent struggling for character, are not 
"hat the world needs to see. It has enough of 
tho hypothetical w.thout finding any in the 
temptaliou or olive garden. To solve the enig¬ 
ma of the sufferings of a God, some of the early 
theologians held to the idea of two souls as ex¬ 
isting Id Jesus. But lie w they solved their two- 
souled enigma I kuow hot. Wo rnu c t all escape 
the influence of those old theories. Christ pass¬ 
ed along, not in a representative art like that of 
the drama, or of the painter, or sculptor, but 
be moved along in tho same paths of trial, and 
courage, and effort, and sublime heroism as 
those along which human hearts la our day 
must move. The life was real, the triumph was 
real. Otherwise divinity is made the ally of 
pretense and deception. Christ Is a real chap¬ 
ter from the book of life.—David Swine. 
- *■** - 
THE RELIGION WE WANT. 
We want a religlou that bears heavily not 
only on tbo “ exceeding sinfulness of sin," hut 
on the exceeding rascality of lying and steal¬ 
ing; a religion that banishes small measures 
from the counters, pebbles prom the cotton 
bags, clay from the paper, sand from the sugar, 
chlcoory from the coffee, alum from the bread, 
and water from the milk cane. The religion 
that is to save the world will not put all the big 
strawberries at the top and all the little ones at 
the bottom. It will not make one-haif a pair 
of shoes of good leather, so that the first shall 
redound to the maker’s credit and the second 
to his cash. It wilt not put Jouvin’s stamp on 
Jenkins’kid gloves; nor make Paris bonnets 
In the backroom of a Boston milliner shop; 
uor Jet a piece of velvet that professes to meas¬ 
ure twelve yards, come to an untimely end In 
the tenth. It does not put bricks e.t five dol¬ 
lars a thousand into chimneys it contracts to 
build with seven dollar material; nor smuggle 
white pine into floors that have paid for hard 
pine; nor leave yawning cracks in closets 
where boards ought to join. The religion that 
la going to sanctify the world, pays its debts. 
It doe.s not consider that forty cents returned 
from one hundred cents given, jb according to 
the gospel, though it may be according to law. 
It looks on a mau who has failed ill trade, and 
who continues to live in luxury, as a thief.— 
The Christian. 
It is a good and safe rule to sojourn In every 
place as if you meant to spend your life thtre, 
never omitting an opportunity of doing a kind¬ 
ness or speaking a true word or making a 
friend. Seeds thus sown by the wayside often 
bring forth an abundant harvest. 
- - 4 — - 
Pride is an extravagant opinion of our own 
worthiness: vanity iB an Inordinate deslrethv 
others should share that opinion.— [Cummings. 
