ORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
DEC. 
attention. Norma involuntarily drew a little 
nearer to Mr. Kendall, and looked up into bis 
face with nn appealing glance that seemed to 
ask for protection or at least encouragement. 
Her band lay on the desk close beside him, and 
the temptation to clasp It was too strong to be 
resisted. His broad palm closed over It In a 
grasp so strong and tender that Norma had no 
desire to withdraw it; arid a sense of protection 
stole over her that was very pleasant to realize. 
It was happiness to Mr. Kendall to sit there 
alone with Norma, holding her hand in his, for 
since bis acquaintance with the fair young 
teacher he had been learning a new lesson, none 
the less sweet for coming ao late In life. He 
dared not think what the world would be to 
him when this brief dream had passed and left 
him again lonely and desolate. I am afra'd that, 
notwithstanding the disparity In their ages, he 
cherished a dim hope of some time winning 
this fair maiden to brighten his life and make 
it better worth living. 
The storm was not of long duration. It soon 
passed over aud Mr. Kendall, reluctantly re¬ 
leased the little hand that he hud been holding. 
Norma felt an unwonted shyness in his pres¬ 
ence that night, which she could hardly under¬ 
stand. He waited until she made her prepara¬ 
tions to go home, and they walked together 
down the road os far as his home. He bade her 
good night with au unwonted tenderness |n the 
tone, and Norma went home with a vague, 
nameless pleasure at her heart for which she 
could scarcely account. 
One day as Mr. Kendai.i. was working near 
the school-house an elegant carriage drove past 
and stopped at the school-house door, while a 
gentleman alighted and entered. As nearly as 
he could judge the stranger was young, well 
dressed and handsome, and Mr. Kkndall found 1 
himself wondering who he was and wbat was ' 
his business. The horse remained standing bo- ! 
fore the door until school was dismissed, and 1 
Mr. Kendall tormented himself with conject¬ 
ures which seemed hardly befitting a man so ' 
cold and stern and grave as he wa* thought to 
be. Wa* this a lover or Norma’s come to claim 1 
the hand which had become so dear and pre- I t 
clous to himself V There seemed no reason why I •' 
It should not be. A beautiful girl like Norma t 
did not often reach her twentieth year without I *' 
admirers and seldom without favoring some I 6 
suitor. I u 
At last he Baw the children leave the school- I e 
house and kuew that school was dismissed and I ^ 
Norma and the stranger were there alone. A I 
hair hour or more passed by, and then the ob- ii 
Jeots of his solicitude came out and Norma was I v, 
assisted Into the carriage by the gentleman, I fi 
who took a seat beside her and drove away to- I ei 
wards her home. As they passed the place y 
where he was at work, Norma leaned out of U 
the carriage and bowed to him. He returned 
the bow in hla unlfo:inly courteous manner, I “ 
but never-In Ins life had anything of that nature h 
affected him so painfully as this little episode, sc 
This time he had a fair view of Ilia rival, aa he y< 
considered him. Ho was a youug man with a I 
very handsome face, a dark mustache and curl- hi 
Ing hair, and by his manner Mr. Kendall could hi 
not doubt that lie was most Interested In his 
fair companion. I a(1 
Fur a long time after this Mr. Kendall did 
not watch Norma as he had done when she I fu 
passed the house; and often she looked from I or 
the school-house windows to the field where he 111 
had spent so much time that summer to find In 
nobody In Bight. She missed something too In I wl 
ids manner that filled her with regret. He was in 
not ao cordial as formerly, and she feared that 
he was offended. I of 
Mr. Kendall had occasion one night to call ,,a 
Into the school-house. He had found some- dtJ 
thing in the road which bethought might be- wl 
long to one of the pupils, and he carried it in I 
to leave It with the teacher that she might re- he 
store it In the morning to Its owner. Norma I a8 
was at tiie desk writing. Her cheeks wore mi- I 
usually flushed and she had a sheet of note rel 
paper before her, evidently writing a letter. 
And there ou the desk, in plain sight, was a be 
photograph of a handsome young man ; indeed | ca 
the very one who had so aroused hia Jealousy 
weeks before. He would have retreated If he UJt 
could but she had already seen him. Hertluabed ,jy 
cheeks tlamcd Into crimson when she noticed c ^' 
liltn, and h« saw her push a piece of paper over I y<5i 
the photographs Mr. Kendall found himself ® dl 
stammering like a bashful school-boy, but be I 
succeeded in making known his errand and I 
took his departure in the greatest possible I 
haste. No sooner was ho out of sight than I 
Norma leaned her head ou the desk aud burst hai 
Into tears. And Mr. Kendall, trying to rid I tat 
himself of the fierce pain at hia heart, went wll 
away to be alone with his great sorrow. He aui 
felt very bitter toward the fate which had rob- f 
bed him of the love of the only woman he had ser 
ever cared for—that had taken from his desert mc 
life the one blight oasis which might have q e | 
freshened aud beautified the whole. tb( 
Norma, passing his house one mornlug, saw the 
him working in the garden, and noticed that fcu 
lie looked pale, and, a3 she thought, unhappy. I 
He glanced up and bowed, but without his nc- fav 
oustomed smile and pleasant word. Norma He 
would have liked to ask him If he were ill or chi 
unhappy, but 9he dared not, for her acquaint- un 
ance with him did not warrant It. But all that loo 
day her heart aobed whenever she thought of ver 
idm. It was already time for Mr. Kendall to eve 
visit. Norma's Bcbool again, but he postponed I to i 
it aa long as he could. One afternoon, however, abt 
he entered the school for the purpose of mak- km 
Ing his official visit. Norma bad never looked * ap 
tie more beautiful. The flush called Into her face 
h\a by his entrance did not leave It again that after- 
to noon, and neither teacher nor committee 
at. seemed to feel the Interest In the »ohno! which 
nd the occasion demanded. Mr, Kendall wan 
be unusually absent-minded. He was thinking 
i a that in a few days longer the school would be 
no closed, and Norma, perhaps, would be married 
m before ho should sec her again. The school 
in. was dismissed, and the last pupil had departed, 
re but Mr. Kendall still lingered. It was hard 
or for him to leave her, for he would probably 
lg never have an excuse to seek her presence 
le again. 
le “How have you enjoyed your school this 
;o summer, Miss Norma?” he Inquired at last, 
ft “I suppose you will not be sorry when It Is 
t, out.” 
ie “ I don't know,” was the hesitating answer: 
g “It has been a great burden to me, certainly, 
e but after all I think I shall be a little sorry 
when it Is out." And she averted her face, 
n leaning her cheek on her hand. 
“ Where do you expect to teach again, or 
!• shall you givo up teaching for the future ?’’ He 
" f«lt hlB heart throb almost to suffocation as he 
awaited bor answer. 
“I have not taken any school yet," she re- 
r plied, “but I expect to noon, If possible. 1 
r shall have to do something for a livelihood, 
3 but I hops 1 shall not always And It as hard as 
t H Is now.” 
* “ Young ladles usually marry,” ventured Mr. 
Kendall, with a grave smile. 
I hen i must l e different from young ladles 
, in general,” she replied, looking hard at the 
floor aa she spoke, “ for 1 do not expect to 
marry.” 
“Norma J” and now she could not help feel¬ 
ing the deep-thrilling passion In the tone, ! 
which could no longer ho suppressed, “ won't 
5 ou answer me this one question, and not be- * 
lleve me Impertinent ¥ Are you engaged ? i 
“ 1 ani not,' 1 she answered, with trembling 
voice and drooping lids. t 
He clasped both of her hands in his. “ Then, f 
Norma, forgive me, but I must speak now, * 
though certain It can do no good. 1 love you, ^ 
child, as once I never dreamed of loving mor- f 
tal womau. Ob. 1 if you could give me the price- ^ 
less treasure of your love, it would be the high- ll 
est happiness that this world could ever bestow (• 
upon me. i dare not ask you for it, but what- * 
ever may betide, through all the years to come, ^ 
I shall love you and you oDly.’’ . * 
There was a moment's silence, he still hold- b 
Ing her hands closely. Then she looked up f 
v.hlle the color that he had for the moment 1 
frightened away, crept slowly back Into her 0 
cheek*. “ There is no need to ask lor what is ' 
yours already," she said in a low, trembling ", 
tone. tl 
lie caught his breath with a quick gasp. 
Norma, Norma, what are you saying?" and ^ 
hla eyes doubly bright with the Ore of passion, b ' 
scanned her blushing faoe, “ Do you mean that 
you love me?” n 
She could not look at him, but she bowed her 
head. He drew her into his ai ms and kissed 
her. 
What have J done that God has blessed me 
so,” he whispered. ve 
Jaorma rested her head on his arm in the S< I 
fullest contentment and happiness. It was the , 
orownlng Joy of Edward Kendall’s whole 
life, and Norma trembled at the depth of feel- tU 
Ing so suddenly revealed In the heart of one 
who had always been deemed so cold and un- , 
Impressible. *‘ ri 
By-and-by »be explained to him the nature ?{’ 
of her acquaintance >vlth the young man who .;! 
had so awakened his jealousy. He was a young " 
doctor, with whom she had become acquainted w< 
when away at school. She had valued him a* a , 
friend, but nothing more, though he had sent 0 * 
her a letter containing his photographs, and a . 
asking her to be his wife. The letter which K ‘ 
Mr. Kendall had surprised her writing, was a 
refusal of his offer. Pr 
Norma was not obliged, after all, to spend 
her days in the school room, though she be- e 
came both teacher and pupil In life's sweetest M 
lessons. Mr. Kendall’s youthful dreams were 
more than realized. His home was brightened 
by a wife’s tenderness and devotion, beautiful 
children called him father, and his advancing ^ 
years were made happy by the purest love that , “ 
earth can know. u* f 
once In bis lifetime. If be has kind friends- 
thou they are made manifest. A failure is a 
moral sieve—It brings oultbe wheat and shows 
the chaff. A man thus learns that words and 
pretended good will are not and do uot consti¬ 
tute real friendship. 
—-VAt- 
GAYETY. 
I here are two kinds of gayety; the one arises 
from want of heart, being touohed by no pity, 
sympathizing with no pain, even of Its own 
causing; it shines and glitters like a froetbouud 
river in the gleaming sun. The other springs 
from excess of heart—that is. from a heart over¬ 
flowing wit h kindness towards all men and all 
things; and, suffering under no superadded 
grief, it Is light from the happiness which it 
causes, from the happiness which it sees. This 
may be compared to the same river, sparkling 
and smiling under the sun of summer, and run¬ 
ning on to give fertility and Increase to ail 
within, and even to many beyond, its roach. 
£abbatfi Reading. 
NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
D ‘ DANiK, 0 u y A a St d hl , M Work. By Rev. W. H. 
JL»A«i bl 8, A. M,, and an Introduction by Rev C 
tlon*°"^l!*•*>' D ' With Portraits ana I Rust nil 
pubushfiS^Sv. 47 * 1 HttrtforJ: A,uerlcau 
In the general interest now felt everywhere 
in the labors of Revivalists, this book, being a 
record of t he life and labor of D. L. Moody, Is 
“ALMOST PERSUADED.” 
We give below one of Mr. sankey’s beautiful 
hymns, as sung by him at the recent Moody and 
Sankey revival meetings In Brooklyn : 
•' Almost persuaded " now to believe; 
" Al ®«« persuaded ” Christ to receive ; 
Seems now some soul to say, 
Go. Spirit, go Thy way, 
Some more convenient day 
On Thee I’ll call. 
Almost persuaded," come, come to-day • 
“ Almost persuadedturn not away j 
Jesus Invites you here, 
Angels are lingering near. 
Prayers rise from hearts so dear : 
O wanderer come. 
*' Almost persuaded,” harvest Is past! 
Almost persuaded," doom comes at last! 
“ Almost” cannot avail ; 
“ Almost" is but to fall 1 
Sad, sad that mournful wall— 
“ Almost—but lout! ’’ 
—-—-. 
FAITH IN THE FAMILY. 
ONE or the most intelligent women I have 
ever known, the Christian mother of a large 
family of children, used to say that the educa¬ 
tion of children w»s eminently a work of faith 
.She never heard the tramping of her boy's feet 
n the house, or listened to tholrnoisy shouting 
In their play, or watched their unconscious 
slumbers, without ari Inward, earnest prayer to 
sure of mo extended sale. Still more important l ° tr '‘ lD th<,m ' a «d for the 
is the fact that It deserve* to be widely read. ^ “ , * he8t to Kulde them. She mln- 
and will doubtless do great good In the same d pr ; iyer with counsel and restraint, and the 
great work on which its subject I* engaged, th dd . W ** , " ,8er * an< * Hie restraint was 
There la both instruction and Inspiration In ,, e stronger, for this alliance of the human and 
this record of successes of a plain man working d , 6 * ,onient8 in her instruction and discl- 
fortlie salvation of soul* without the aid of , nB ’ Alld at le °Kth, when her children had 
learning or eloquence, but Inspired by the same * nd wo ®en, accustomed to the 
zeal for men which animated the Great Master , ., oI 1 world ,ie r unrne was the dear- 
hlmself. The work commenced under Mr. /, Vf 1 * 3 they cou,d speak; and she who “ had 
Moody’s care In Chicago, only n few years since, ,,,,, ,, , ° Wn ,. „ dle ® rrom hcr QWtl body’s life, 
liaa thua grown till It has become celebrated , , .f. 8 , 8 rrotu ber spirit’s life,” who had 
-he world over. Its later manifestations In ““jv 1 f , r feet to their tongues to 
England and thl* country are familiar to all, 8 and i' niy ’ a,,d illuminated their con- 
jut any thing relating thereto will ho eagerly wlt ' h the « reat light* of righteousness 
•ead. Especial Interest attaches to the chap- 81J<1 d “ ty ’ “°* d their reverenoe and love, lu- 
,era giving some account of the early life of c ^ eaaed a thousand-fold by the remembrance 
dr. Moody and hla co-laborer, Mr. Sank by, of 1 , 8 , n , ea ^! y educa tion that had its Inspiration in 
>Oth of whom good portraits are (riven. Vnt 11 “ n A ’ od ‘ t>r. W. Lord. 
TRUTHFUL SKETCH. 
Let a man fall In business, what an effect It 
has on hts former creditors! Men who have 
taken him by the arm, laughed and chatted 
with him by the hour, shrug their shoulders, 
aud pass on with a cold “ How do you do ?” 
Every trifle of a bill is hunted up and pre¬ 
sented, that would out have seen the light for 
months to come, but for the misfortunes of the 
debtor, if it is paid, well and good ; if not, 
the scowl of the sheriff, perhaps, meets him at 
the corner. A man that baa never failed knows 
but little of human nature. 
In prosperity, he sails along gently, wartedby 
favoring smiles and kind woids from everybody. 
He prides himself on his uame and spotless 
character, and makes hia boast that he has not 
nn enemy In the world. Alas, the change ! He 
iooke at the world In a different light when re¬ 
verses come upon him. He reads suspicion on 
every brow. He hardly knows how to move, or 
to do this thing or the othbr ; there are spies 
about him; a writ is ready for his back. To 
know what kind of stuff the world is made of, 
a person must be unfortunate, and stop paying 
and will doubtless do great good In the same 
great work on which its subject 1* engaged. 
There is both instruction and inspiration In 
this record of successes of a plain man working 
for the salvation of soul* without the aid of 
learning or eloquence, but inspired by the same 
zeal for men which animated the Great Master 
himself. The work commenced under Mr. 
Moody s care In Chicago, only n few year* since, 
has thus grown till It has become celebrated 
the world over. Its later manifestations In 
England and thl* country are familiar to all, 
but any thing relating thereto will bo eagerly 
read. Especial Interest attaches to the chap¬ 
ters giving some account of the early life of 
Mr. Moody and hla co-laborer, Mr. Sank by, of 
both of whom good portrait* are given. Not 
only the thousand* who have attended the re¬ 
vival meetings, but earnest Christian* every¬ 
where will be suro to want thl* book. Men of' 
the world might al*o well be Interested in a 
career commencing ao humbly, but already 
crowned with such extraordinary results. The 
book Is sold only by subscription. 
R ii uni iiv Mu- Blockade Or. U. 8. Secret Service 
Aaventm-cs. 8v vv. H Thomas, uulhorof •• The 
Gold Hunter's Adventure* in Australia,” Ac. II- 
lustrnteil. (Large l2uio.-pp. ■»;<.] Bouton: Lee 
& Shepard. 
This I* a story of the late civil war, not so 
very long ago In years, and yet looking back 
seemingly so far away, a* If it belonged to an¬ 
other century or some dimly remembered pre¬ 
vious state of existence. It is highly probable 
that the younger generation of Americans will 
gain much the most Important part of their 
knowledge of the country’s history In the at¬ 
tractive form of War Romances, aa English 
speaking people everywhere learn most of what 
they know of English history from reading the 
Waverley Novels. The author of this book Is 
well known to t he reading publlu through pre¬ 
vious stories, and is suns of a welcome from the 
class whom he addresses. He has interwoven 
a love romance through the volume, which 
gleams like a thread of gold in the record of 
perilous adventures and hair-breadth escapes. 
President Lincoln and Secretary Welles figure 
occasionally In the story, and the writer Is evi¬ 
dently a warm admirer of both. 
Murk Twniu’e .sketches, New and Old. Now 
Hrst Published in Complete Form. Sold odIv by 
subscription. [Square octavo-pp.320.] Hartioru 
Conn.: The American PublUtdng Co. “ urlloru ' 
Mark Twain ranks among the most popular 
humorous writers of the age, and justly, for 
his tales not only develop wit aud learning, but 
are usually adorned with a moral. Most of the 
sketches In this volume have been read and 
laughed over throughout the civilized world, 
but that which Is worth reading at all Is usually 
worthy of a second perusal, aud thousands will 
be glad to meet their old acquaintances In a 
new, charming attire of blue and gold, enriched 
as they are with many beautiful and telling Il¬ 
lustrations. The book is sold only by subscrip¬ 
tion, und many will no doubt hall the agent 
who bring* it a* a public benefactor—a Mission¬ 
ary of Mirth—for it will cause many to laugh 
exceedingly, which is frequently a blessing to , 
others than the morose and dyspeptic. 
AN EARNEST LIFE. 
1 RECOMMEND no sour, ascetic life. 1 believe 
not only in the thorn* on the rosebush, but in 
the roses which the thorns defend. Asceticism 
is the child of sensuality and superstition. She 
8 8 **cret mother of many a secret sin. God 
when he made man’s body, did not give us a’ 
fiber too much nor a passion too many. I would 
Bteai no violet Horn the young maiden’s bosom • 
rather would I fill her arms with more fragrant 
roses. But a life merely of pleasure, or chiefly 
of pleasure, is always a poor and W’orthlees life 
not worth the living; always unsatisfactory in 
Its course, always miserable In its end. Read 
the literature of such men, from Anacreon of 
old to Anacreon Moore of our time*, and It is 
the most unsatisfactory ilturature In the world 
There Is the banquet, and the wine circles and' 
the llowere are gay; but behind all these is the 
emblematic coffin, and the skeleton stands 
there to scare the man from his roses and cups. 
No Inin entail on* of Jeremiah are to me eo sad 
as the literature of pleasure. It Is well to be 
ascetic sooner than waste your life in idle joys 
The earnestness of life is the only parsport to 
the satisfaction of life.—Parker. 
NATURAL RELIGION. 
Come quietly away with me, and we will walk 
up and down the narrow path, by the sweet- 
briar hedge; and, as we listen to the low song 
of the blackbird, the fresh air will cool our ach- 
Ing brows, and we shall And comfort. Ju these 
things, fresh air and the birds soog, and the 
fragrance of the lovely flowers, God has given 
a blessing; like sheep, they rre His medicines- 
“ balm of sweet mind*.” We will walk to and 
fro under the shade of those elms, and we will 
be calm; bitter recollections shall be made 
sweet by the thought of His mercies; and, In 
the midst of the sorrows we have in our hearts, 
His comforts shall refresh our souls, and our 
mind Bhall be stored with many thoughts, 
sweet, like the perfume of the flowers. 
--♦-*-*-- 
Ways of tub World.-T he ways of the 
world are strange and devious. Yet there is 
great good In it, for “atouch of misfortune 
maketli all manklud kin." Many a man deeply 
engrossed In business, hurrying along the path¬ 
way of life, absorbed In worldly cares, turns 
now and then aside for retrospections and 
Eight Cousin* 4 or, The Aunt-Hill. By Lolusa K. , u retro8 Pe®tions and 
At. Alcott. author ot Ldtt.e vVumeu/’ ** Little »*h« , y acts. And these are the flowers he 
& imrton C Ito V bi l r^ I B^5SS« 0n8 ' |1B mo --hP- strews along the highway of his earthly ex- 
Men,” Ac., Ac. With Illustrations. |l'« mo.—up. 
2UU.1 Boston: Roberts Brothers. 
The many admirers of Miss Alcott'k writ¬ 
ings—and tuey are uot confined to the youDg, 
for her works are read with absorbing interest 
by people of all ages—will greet this volume 
with pleasure. It is In the best vein of Its al- 
wuys vivacious author, and must add to her 
well-earned reputation. “Eight Cousins ” will 
make a capital Holiday present, aud we trust 
a host of our youug readers will receive It from 
parents or friends. 
Istence. 
--- 
Breaking truth Is like writing fair, and 
comes only by practice ; It Is less a matter of 
will than of lmbit; and I deubt If any occasion 
can be trivial which permits the practice and 
formation of such a habit.— Ruskln. 
-- 
The Moody and SaNkry revival meetings, 
which opened In Philadelphia on Sunday week, 
are largely attended and successful. 
