MOORE’S  RURAL  NEW-YORKER. 
FEB. 42 
wishing  with  all  her  lieart  that  his  grtet  might  du 
1  huB  And  happy  ending, ;U)ld  willingly  aU  she  knew  < 
concerning  Miss  Craig’s  seamBtresR.  or 
“LENOKR.  you  sayl-UNOREl  Ah,  «ou!  I  am  oi 
Kuro  ’  I  knew  there  wa«  but  one  tocc  like  that  la  Ir 
aU  this  world:*’  he  exclaimed  passionately.  “And  ,  ai 
S  whomllovcd-LENOBBnE  WoLK.my  |  i 
oTce  proinlst^d  wUc,  is  here  la  this  y. I 
»frMsr  could  Mlsb  KkkiE  arrange  that  he  might  h 
meet  her  that  night?  How  could  ho  leave  the  b 
bouse  without  tpoaklng  to  her  whom  he  thought  P' 
he  liad  lost  loreverl  .  ^ 
All  tUti  and  much  more  he  asked  of  Kfhe,  and 
bhe  promised  -as  whut  warm-hearted  girl  of  sev¬ 
enteen  would  not  have  promised  7-to  render  all 
assistance  to  tho  long-parted  loveru.  Through  a n- 
other  mlacrablo  dance,  for  Mrs.  ORCsnv  s  sake, 
they  walked,  Eekib  and  the  ImpaUeut  Henri,  | 
whose  thoughts  were  all  Hi  *^0  dimlj  -llghtcd  rwm 
above.  Thou  on  a  card  he  scrlbhled  a  line  wldch  j 
Ekfie.  with  a  rueful  face  over  n  pret^'ndert  mishap  i 
to  her  dress,  took  up  to  the  Itrcd  girl  who  walled  ^ 
111  tho  dressUig-room. 
“0,  Miss  Waters,  I  think  I  must  have  slept; 
said  Lesorb  asEi’FiF,  softly  entered,  “forsonio  I  „ 
one  came  In  and  riused  the  guh  whieh  Iliad  turned  ^ 
down.  And  I  fear  Miss  Craig  wlU  think  mo  very  |  , 
careless  of  my  duty.”  |  a 
“  Your  duty,”  Bald  Kffif.  smiling,  Is  to  read 
thus  canl  and’he  brave  os  can  l>e,”  putting  tho  ^ 
card  into  Lbkore’h  hand. 
“lIisKKi  DE  M  —  Is  here!  O.  I.knore,  let  mo  ^ 
come  to  you,  for  there  has  been  a  wrong  done  to  ^  ^ 
U.S  both,  T  tear!"  i 
One  wild,  imploring  glance  at  ErFiE-ono  faint  i 
prayer~“  O,  Mis*  Waters,  fell  me  It  is  not  a  cruel  '  , 
lest!”  and  Uien  Miss  C'raig’b  wamBtress  rjulrUy  !  ^ 
floated  into  Umt  strange  middle  world  of  \mvm-  ^ 
Bclousness,  and  poor,  frightened  little  Effie,  wiio 
liad  never  seen  any  ono  taint  before,  almost  drow  n- 
cd  the  falnUng  girl  with  tuc  piwher  of  vvaU-r  poor  ^ 
py _ for  water,  oho  had  heard,  “was  elwayB  used  i 
to  bring  people  to.’’  i  , 
HldUiey  meet  that  nlgbtv  Well  no,  because 
Mrs.  tiRUMiT‘8  rules  came  between  lUo  longing  i 
hearts  or  the  two  so  long  kept  apart.  But  Hekri 
slept  (?)  tho  remainder  of  the  night  under  Mrs. 
Watbr’.s  roof,  while  Lenorb  walked  her  room  and 
longed  for  daylight,  and  road  her  Valentine  (oh,  j 
yes,  hrr  Valentino  come  at  l«.st)over  and  over,  and 
kls-sed  the  name  It.  bon',  until  her  happy  tears  had 
almost  blot  ted  It  out  ol  sight,  | 
And  iroin  Henri  hlmsoU  Miss  Craig  was  In  ! 
formed  u  hom  idie  had  been  li*Borcd  with  as  seam-  , 
stress  in  her  house.  From  Henri  she  learned  of  ^ 
Lenorb’s  foiwr  position,  a  nd  was  fain  to  hide  her  j 
head  with  shame  as  she  remembered  her  own  un¬ 
called- for  arroRaueo. 
How  lUd  tl  cud  ?  As  auch  things  always  do  end,  j 
of  course-  and  us  this  Is  truth.  It  follows  that.  U  Is  | 
itronacr  than  firtion.  The  postman  heard.  Ihrougb 
BKiiHiET.of  I.F-NORK’s  V.ilentlne  altAir  all;  and  not 
very  long  after  Miss  craio  boheld  from  her  win-  | 
dow  the  arrival  at  Mrs.  Watbrr’ of  Mon.slenr  find 
Madame  i>e  Monttiuee  as  honored  gue.sts  and  j 
friends. 
- - - — 
HENRY  lYILBOH’S  EATLT  LIFE.  i 
THE  follow’Ing  interesting  Incidents  In  the  life  of  , 
the  lute  ex-rresideut  Wit.80n,  as  t/iid  b.v  hlui.st'lf, 
are  glv  on  by  a  wrHor  In  the  N.  Y.  Tilbuno: 
“  I  was  born,"  be  said,  “in  181‘2,  and  at  the  age 
of  ten  years  was  put  out  ns  an  aprrenll''e  to  a 
farmer,'  From  the  day  of  my  birth  to  the  day  I  ^ 
was  21  years  old  1  never  hud  a  dollar  In  money  lo 
spend  for  anvllilng.  During  the  whole  of  my  ap¬ 
prenticeship  my  nuusler  never  but  once  gave  me  a 
penny.  On  t htll  oeeuslou  he  allowed  me  u  holiday 
with  permission  to  attend  n.  muster  sovuu  miles 
from  home,  and  gavo  me  three  cents  lo  spend.  I 
w'alked  to  and  from  the  musUT,  and  of  course 
spent  no  more  than  that  sum. 
“On  tho  day  I  was  2i  years  old— 1  reniorobi'r  It 
very  well,  ono  Saturday,  tho  leth  ol  Fcbruaiy-in  , 
the  afternoon,  my  master  gave  me  a  j'oke  ot  oxen  . 
and  SIX  sheep.  The  latter  I  .sold  the  same  after-  ] 
noon  for  $a,  bul,  not  being  able  to  dispose  of  the  , 
oxen  that  day.  1  roquosU'd  my  masier  to  keep 
them  tor  mo  untu  Monday  morning,  widih  he  did, 
but  charged  mo  30  CA-nls  tor  tt.  I  paid  him  t  his  1 
and  took  t  he  oxen  away.  I  sold  them  to  a  man 
for  $Tf.,  and  took  his  note  for  the  amount,  so 
when  1  became  of  age  1  had  for  eleven  year’s  work 
(I  was  sent  to  school  only  four  weeks  each  year; 
^  I  had  saved  67  couLs.  wlileh  I  had  In  some 
way  obtulned,  bnt  l  bad  paid  a«  nt  this  bi  inyinas- 
ter  for  keeping  ray  oxen  two  iiighUi.  i  tlxvix  Ulrcd 
myself  to  a  farmer, agreeing  lo  work  for  $r.  a  mouth 
and  ixiard.  I  used  to  get  up  long  before  daylight, 
feed  the  slock,  get  my  breaktasl,  and,  .lusl  a.s  the 
cost  was  beginning  to  ho  streakod  with  red,  start 
off  lor  the  woods  with  my  team.  i  used  to  place 
ray  dUinei^pall  on  Hie  sunny  side  of  a  troe,  and 
eontlnuo  drawing  saw-logs  to  the  mill  until  alter 
dark  at  night.  'I’hen  1  went,  home,  fed  the  stock, 
ate  my  supper,  and  went  to  bed.  My  father  tended 
ihesaw-rolU  raostot  Hie  lime  for  many  years  lor 
60  conl-s  a  day. 
“In  the  spring  or  the  same  year,  1  took  iny  pack 
upon  my  back  and  started  afoot  for  the  town 
where  1  now  live,  Natick,  Muss.,  UKi  miles  away, 
and  Hiat  journey  cost  me  just  «i.2.‘'>.  I  worked 
thereat  shoe-making,  averaging  13  hours  a  day. 
and  the  last  wcH'k’s  work  T  did  at  tho  bench  was 
<at  boll  omtng  shoos  for  fo  a  week.  Out.  ol  1  his  1 
paid  60  cents  for  pegs  and  F2  for  board,  so  that  1 
had  left  just  $2.60,  I  have  bottxjined  bi  pairs  of 
men’s  shoes  without  sleeping,  and  that  lor  a  little 
more  than  50  cents.  But  oven  at.  this  rate  1  got 
some  money  ahead,  and  made  up  my  mind  to  work 
my  way  through  college.  I  lent  my  money  to  a 
man  In  Boston,  and  went  to  the  AcMemy  at  Con¬ 
cord.  N.H.  I.  had  been  there  only  six  (three?) 
months  when  the  man,  to  whom  1  had  intrusted 
j  my  fortune,  failed,  and  I  loetcH  Rih  I  was  so  re¬ 
duced  that,  although  I  owed  for  two  or  three 
week’s  board,  I  was  absolutely  unable  to  pay  11, 
or  even  to  take  a  Ictu-r  from  tho  I’ost-Onice  with¬ 
out  borrtiwing  money  to  pay  the  postage.  But  a 
friend  Invited  mo  to  remain  and  board  with  him, 
and  pay  him  when  I  was  able.  Bo  I  stayed 
through  the  term,  and  In  the  Winter  earned 
money  enough  to  pay  him  by  teaching  school. 
Now  the  men  who  arc  working  at  shomaklng  lo 
hours  a  ilay,  and  earning  from  $3  to  fd  a  day,  com¬ 
plain. 
- - - 
A  GOOD  NAME. 
The  other  day  a  young  African  asked  us  If  It  fxirloiLH  occup 
Avere  “  agin  dc  law”  to  change  his  name.  M  e  ro-  |. 
pUed  that  If  he  had  a  good  name  ho  had  better  of  air 
keep  It,  us  a  good  name  was  one  thing  10  be  do-  j,y 
sired  In  this  world.  halls.  Noma 
“  rse  got  a  iw(!t.t.v  far  iutmc,"heti.iia,  “  wal  I’sc  ^xclUng  jiagci 
had  eber  since  de  war,  but  It  won’t  do  for  disc  j^duiged  In  w 
(dille  cny  nioah.”  I  fills  (if  lb'-  t;ic 
“  Why,  what’s  the  loalUT  with  it?”  we  a.skcd.  I 
“Well,  you  see.  biiic',  dar’s  a  fool  nigger  come  The  ntlier  c- 
byar  from  Chlllleollfe,  an’ lie's  a  buzzln'  around  j  11,^,  j„ 
wld  iny  name,  andno  two  niggers  en n  elrgumgatc  I 
111  the  same  town  unless  one  or  deuder  nb ’em  hab  ^  >vltb  i 
a  different  prtRloguem.”  1  loon.” 
“  J'erbaps  you  can  prevnll  on  lilin  to  adopt  <in-  i  “Tboma;..  v 
Ollier  name.”  !  this  morning: 
“No,  sail;  1  offered  him  fonh  bits  and  a  ralizor  “Down  In  a 
tocall  hlssolf  bomeHiliigflse.’.slde.jH(;owge  Wash-  |  ganglhojunl 
In'i.en  Jones,  hut  Ihoyaller  fool  vv on  t  do  U.  “Dow .n  wli 
“I'enow,  Islio?”  I  wbolsalHUt 
“  Yes,  sir,  an’  dal  s  wbut  nuke :  me  w  Injurious  “Where  a  i 
’liout  It.  He  says  rtoJouuses  wastlu' D.init/e.st  f.im-  j  yopon  the  yoi 
llltssln  Flrglnuy,  and  dat  he’s  coudeseended  In  e.  “CiuTt  nev 
direct  line  from  dem,  an’ eopseaucnchly  darfoub  ]  .jhriokcd  the 
values  de  name  moah  exceedingly  dun  uderwls*'.  ’  !  heir. 
“ Bo  . you  propose  1/)  off  with  tli'.  old  name  and  1  (jlr'‘‘'tly.”- 
on  wltii  a  new?”  ;  'Yofsp.ip 
“Komethtn’llkotluit.  I '.t’pose,bosi>.  An’ I  wants  sw,...tGpnn- 
to  ax  you  de  favor  to  w'Jest  some,  disajiproprlatc  j  i.j-jj  kwccI 
name  dat’ll  do  for  n  cullud  pussou  ob  standlu’.  I  ipls  nil  eom< 
don’t  sosUiit.e  wld  do  common  low-class  niggers,  I  ^looks,  ‘.Tael 
and!  wants  a  name  o’  dero  um;omprchcuslon-  ;  („wp,  sir  (i 
w  nt  dey  can’t  sUiul,  you  know.”  j  basket?” 
“  How’ll  Benedict  Arnold  do?”  ;  “  in  the  cel 
“De  Arnold  an  tonlsln  for  suali,  bnl,  d  i”  .  too  he  shouted, 
many  Bennys  and  Hicks  around.  TiTanud'won-,  .  gon 
bos.s.”  I  senior,  takbi 
I  “Well.  Algernon  Hnrlorlr,,  liow’.s  Huit?”  Unit.  mIsgnUl 
“  Dat’ssuperlHgaut:  .Mgerneyman  .Sartorl.^  \r-  j  the  turn  affa 
I  nold— dat’U  flo  fur  some  ob  do  name.  I’lease  reaeb  j  bed-ward 
fur  nnnl her  one.  nah.”  llgn  n  Huard: 
'  “AVliy,  that’s  name  cmmgli.  UO'v  much  do  you  An  hour  n( 
want,  lor  goodness  nnke  7”  n;i.s  beard  i 
“Boss,  you  must 'member  dut  l  ie  dcckln  In  dc  ^],e  plalntlvs 
I  ebureU,  an’  ’prletor  ob  a  bous"  an’  tot.’*  night,  good  i 
j  “('ll  I  y(*s;  well,  lei's  see — Bill  .Mien?  ’ 
“  Dill’s  t'to  eoiiunou.”  I  HOW  ' 
“Abraham  I.bieoln.” 
I  “  Too  ord nary,  sab.  IBt  up  higher.”  y  oenti.es 
“run  Sheridan?”  laieshowhi 
"  Higher  yel,  wilb  If  yon  please.”  ,„g  ,<511  a 
“  William  Te<-nmseh  Bhcr  — |  t,i/.i,th  rldo  v 
“bU']»,  sail,  ilal'H  miff-needn  t  feel  no  furder.  j^yp] 
;  Wllynm  CIicrkuin:.o.v— that  sounds  like  Hid  Kaln-  imtipr  the  sn 
'  tut  k— Wllynm  (  herkumsey  Algerneyman  Sart oris  „  _ 
'  ArnoM!  Y>s,  sir.  dal’ll  do  no  lov.--<  lass  nigger  caniolotbe 
can  g'lt  Insldo  o’ dat.  Aoutio  do  solum  witness,  lug  me  by  tl 
boss,  dat  dill’s  my  name  from  beneelor’th  on  to  .,yardmc,  w 
all  precedin’  time.  Tso  obliged  to  you,  sab.”  moonltg 
As  be  walked  majestl'iall.v  a"  iiy,  repeating  the  oppnt  w 
name  over  to  IMinsoir,  ho  was  the.  proudest,  darkey  ,  ning.” 
^  In  Brunswick.  .And  yet  Bbakspearo  says  there’s  “Well,  be 
1  nothing  In  a  name.-  -.WfuaoMrl  Jirmmwickcr. 
iinlved  at  the  Inn,  when  whut  was  the  sj'mpa- 
thctlciDid  t  hogHlliint  young  man’s snrprl.'R*.  and  in- 
dlgnullon  to  tlnd  that  his  ulce  coat  had  been 
wrapped  around— not  a  fair  young  lady  of  unusu¬ 
al  proportions,  bnt— a  double  bass  v)ol. 
- ^  »  ' 
THE  P0DDLE8  FAMILY. 
roDULEs,  .fuNiOR,  lias  imforttuiately  an  oar  for 
music— two  much  so.  In  fact.  In  this  he  bears  no 
rescrablanee  to  rod(lle.s,  j>crc,  whose  ramdcal  no¬ 
tions  ;ire  so  vage  that  ho  can  with  difficulty  dls- 
tlngulsli  his  favoiltc  all-,  "Hid  Hog  Tray,”  from 
“  Tlie  IHsli  WiiBherwoman.” 
AVlieucver  I’oddics,  Jr.,  Is  relieved  from  Hie  la- 
borloiLH  occupiillon  of  devouring  bread  and  mo- 
lasse-'i.  he  Is  either  whistling  or  singing.  Ills  rc- 
juirtoiri!  Of  ulrs  Is  cxlen.Mvc,  comprlslug  all  those 
furnlslied  by  Uie  street  tuuslelans  and  concert 
halls.  No  matter  though  lie  be  perusing  Hie  most 
exciting  pages  of  ‘Jack  llarkaway,”  tlil.H  .vouth 
Indulged  In  song  at  the  sumo  lime,  totally  oblivi¬ 
ous  of  th'-  l;icf.  HU’t  others  eannol.  appreelato  his 
muide  when  sluillaily  engaged, 
i  The  other  evening  his  father  enlorod  the  room.  I 
where  the  Junior,  seated  lii  Ills  f.ivorllo  rwUng-  I 
chair,  witli  ouo  leg  over  an  arm,  was  lining  the  | 
'  liouso  with  tliat  well-known  air,  “Tp  lu  a  Bal-  , 
1  loon.”  I 
j  “Thomas,  where  did  you  pul  Ihu  market  basket  , 
!  this  morning?”  demanded  tlio  senior. 
^  “Down  in  aeoal  mine,  nnderneyth  tho  ground,” 
I  sang  1  ho  Junior,  without,  looking  up. 
“Down  where?”  sharply  Inquired  tho  Kcnlor, 
j  who  Is  a  little  d'.'iit. 
“  Where  a  ray  of  ij'iiishlno  never  eim  bo  found,” 
I  yelled  the  yoimgster. 
“Han’t  neverbo  Tonnd.  boy?  you  young  r.idoai," 
!  shrieked  the  eld-r  p■lrl^-,  inaklng!'  bre.nk  for  bis 
!  son  and  bclr.  “  Wh  'tdoyon  mean?  Answer  me 
'Yets  p.ip;  what  Is  It?"  ‘Sweet  O'eneM.oe. 
sweet  Gene,- 
“I’ll  Kwcelen  you,  young  Imp.  Mrs.  Toodles, 
lilts  all  comes  from  Hint  boy  reading  dime  song 
books,  ‘.Taek  Hartrnwny,’  and  Pim’llnr  stories. 
Come,  sir  (Hirealenlngly),  where’s  tbo  market 
basket?” 
“In  1  be  cellar,  pap.  ‘  Put  mo  In  iny  IllHobrd,”' 
be  sboulod. 
“Ver?"  good.  Bn  off  (Ills  Instant,”  replied  tbe 
senior,  taking  I  bn  J'lnlor  at  bis  word,  and  hoforo 
Hull,  misguided  llU.lo  mnsh-lan  could  well  realize 
tbe  turn  affairs  bad  taken  he  was  quickly  IndU-d 
off  bed-ward  to  tho  enlivening  tnno  of  tbfl  “  M nl 
llgn  II  Huards.” 
An  hour  aftenviird  utulnt  volee  from  Iho  attic 
wiis  beard  imploring  forgiveness,  mingled  with 
tbe  plain*, Ivo  song  of  the  Madrigal  hoys,  “Good 
night,  good  night,  good  night."— Dan 6i/ry  Acir«. 
- - 
HO-W  THE  WIDOW  CAUGHT  HIM. 
THE  OUTBIDE  PASSENGER. 
The  Boston  Commercial  Bulletin  tells  this  may 
be  I  rue  stxiry : 
Itwaslu  t  he  days  of  stage-coarbes,  and  ono  of 
those  liugo,  lumberliig  vemcles,  was  ploughing  Its  I 
way  between  Boston  and  Balcm  in  a  driving  rain¬ 
storm.  Tilled  Inside  and  outside  tvtth  a  Jolly  set  of  ' 
passengers.  | 
Among  the  number  of  tho  more  fortunate  insid¬ 
ers  was  a  respectable,  bald-headed ohlgentleman,  ‘ 
w  ho  .seemed  lo  be  very  BOllcltouii  about,  a  lady  rid-  I 
lug  on  the  r»“f.  Kvery  few  mlnnte.s  ho  poi'pcd 
out  his  head,  regardless  of  the  rain,  and  shouted 
to  some  one  above,  “  Well,  how  Is  she  now?"  And 
the  answex'  came,  “  All  right.” 
“Is  she  getting  wet?”  Inqnlrp.d  tho  old  man. 
“No,  not  niuc\i,”  w'as  the  reply. 
“Well,  can’t  you  put  something  round  her? 
’Twill  never  do  lo  have  her  get  wet,  you  know.” 
“  AVe’vo  got  everything  around  licr  wc  can  get.” 
“ liavenff.  yon  got  an  old  coqi  or  rug?”  I 
“  No.  not  a  rag  more.”  | 
A  6.VTnpaHicl.lc  young  man,  hearing  all  this,  and 
feeling  alarmed  forthe  poor  ladyoutin  the  storm, 
Inquired  of  the  old  gentleman  why  they  didn’t 
have  her  insl(U%  and  not  on  the  roof? 
“Bles.s  you,  there  ain’t  room!”  exclaimed  the 
old  man.  ^  , 
“Not  room  1  Why,  I'll  give  her  my  place;  its 
loo  bud.” 
“  Not  at  all,  sir ;  not  at  all.  We  couldn’t  got  her 
Into  this  stage  anyhow.” 
Ama-A-d  at  hear  prodigious  dimensions,  the  kliul 
young  mil  n  wild,  ‘  Well,  sir,  II  my  I'oat  would  be 
of  any  service  to  you  she  may  have  it;”  and,  suit,* 
ing  Hie  ae-tlon  to  the  word,  he  look  the  garment 
and  handed  It  to  tho  old  gentleman. 
“  It’S  almost,  a  pity,  sir,  to  get  your  overcoat 
wet,  but - ” 
“Not  at  all,  sir;  by  no  means;  p.a.ssltup  to  her.’ 
The  coat  was  accordingly  paa-^  up. 
I  “How’ll  that  do  for  her?"  asked  the  old  gentle- 
'  man. 
I  “Tip-top!  Just  the  ticket, I  .All  right  now. 
!  Thus  relieved,  no  further  anxlstj'  was  nianl- 
!  tested  about  the  outside  passenger  tl!l  the  stage 
A  OKNTi.EUAN  Of  an  autoblographlcal  turn  re¬ 
lates  how  he  was  instnieted  In  tlm  cnatom  of  t  ak¬ 
ing  toll  by  a  sprightly  widow  during  a  moonlight  1 
i,le*gh  Hdo  with  a  men-y  party.  He  Raj’s ;  I 
Tbe  lovely  u  ldow  L —  sat  in  I  he  same  sleigh,  ■ 
imder  the  same  buffalo  robe  with  me.  , 
“ Oh,  oh,— don’t ,  don’t!"  she  oxelalmetl.  as  ve  | 
camo  to  the  flrst,  bridge,  at  the  s.ime  time  catch-  ^ 
lug  me  by  tJm  arm  and  turning  her  ^■elled  face  to¬ 
ward  me,  while  her  lltllo  eyes  twinkled  through 
the  moonlight. 
"Don't  what?”  1  ufked.  “J'mnot  doing  au.r- 
thlng.” 
“Well,  but  r  thought  you  were  going  to  take 
toll,”  replied  1  he  Avldow. 
“Toll?”  I  rejoined.  “  WluU's  Hi:i!  ?”  ^ 
"Well,  I  declare!”  erled  the  uidow,  her  eicar 
laugh  rloglng  out  above  tbe  music  of  the  bells, 
“  YOU  jireVond  you  don’t  know  what  toll  Is!” 
Indeed,  I  don’t  then,”  I  said,  I.inghlng;  “  ex¬ 
plain,  If  youpledso.’’ 
“  You  never  heard,  then,”  said  the  widow,  most  ' 
prcvoklngly,  "you  nevx.Tho.nra  that  xvhen  wc  arc  t 
on  a  slclgh-rlde  the  gentlemen  alwaj'S-  Mint  is 
sometimes— when  they  cross  a  bridge  claim  a  kiss 
and  rail  it  toll.  But  T  never  pay  it.” 
1  said  that  I  never  heard  of  it  before;  but  when 
we  came  to  tho  next. bridge  I  claimed  the  lolhaud 
the  widow's  struggles  tolmldUiovelloviT nerfoce 
were  not  enough  to  tear  11.  .At  last  the  veil  was 
removed,  her  round,  nxy  face  was  turned  directly 
toward  mine,  and  In  tho  clear  ll,glit  of  .a  frosty 
moon  the  toll  wav  tal:eii.  for  tho  llret.  time  In  mj’ 
experli'iic?.  Soon  ve  t  ame  to  a  long  bildgc  with 
several  arches;  tli'*  ■^Idow  said  It  w.i.sofnnuso 
to  resist  .1,  man  who  would  liuve  his  own  way,  so 
'  slic  paid  1  he  loll  mthoiil  a  murmur. 
I  “But  you  won  t  take  toll  for  every  arch,  win 
I  you?”  she  said,  so  archly,  llxat  I  could  not.  fall  to 
I  exact  all  my  dues;  and  that  was  the  beginnlngof 
I  my  courtship.— /'j'orWrinv!  .Tmirml. 
APART. 
BY  aOSE  GERANIUM. 
Ah  me !  the  ip-aveB  that  will  not  fold 
Their  ifeuerouB  mantleN  o’er  the  dead, 
But  with  remorseloea  fini,-cre  hold 
The  framcB  which  belnk  loaK  biith  fled ! 
Yet  still,  with  nief's  that  qiiivrrinv  pro. 
Our  ways  amouR  Uinu  wc  niuat  take, 
Haj’lj-,  if  teiirn  that  HfAldluff  flow, 
May  t.'alhe  the  weary  hearts  that  break. 
How  bard  to  watch  tbi-  chaniceful  eyes 
Thm*  vear*  of  solitary  iisln. 
With  lovo  that  lisps  her  ceaseless  rrles— 
To  watch  and  pray  nud  waUh— m  vain  ! 
To  touch  tho  hands,  iii'r  feel  a  thrill 
Of  aus'ver  tlirouN'h  tlic  pulses  stcftl— 
To  know  dumb  sili'iico  wabJics  stlD 
The.  bosuTii  that  wlU  not  unseal. 
O  (ton  !  in  other  plims  Uiiiii  tbeae 
shall  Sovereiifii  hands  the  shadows  bend, 
And  souls  which  holy  MoruliiR  frees 
J'ind  rccOBTiltlon  in  the  end  7 
A  GREAT  AUTHOR'S  BELTEP. 
VICTOR  Hugo,  at  a  recent  dinner  parly  In  TarlR, 
gave  free,  rxpresfilon  in  the  presom  e  of  Hthelel  -  to 
lilB  belief  In  the  Intlnlte  and  In  tin-  bouTr  Iniiuor 
tiillty.  Hroo’a  ta'-e  whis  bright,  wBli  n  heavenly 
halo  and  hits  eyes  shone  like  burning  coals. 
“  There  .are  no  occult  forces,”  said  he;  “I here 
are  only  luminous  forces.  OeciiH  force  Is  eliao'j, 
Hic  luminous  foiw  l  ,  <>oi>.  Muu  is  an  liiilnB^*ly 
little  copy  of  (,:oi>;  this  Is  glor.v  cnougli  for  man. 
I  iiin  a  niiiii,  an  linl.slblc  atom,  a  drop  id  the 
ocean,  a  grain  of  .sind  on  Hie  shore.  l.lUleasT 
am.  I  fed  the  ticHl  in  me,  beeaiiso  I  eiiii  also  bring 
form  out  of  m>  ehaos.  1  make  hooks  which  arc 
ereatlons.  1  feel  In  myself  the  fntnis;  life.  1  iini 
like  a  forest,  vvlilrh  has  been  inoiv  l ban  once  cut 
down,  Tho  new  slujoi  i  am  stivuigcr  and  livelier 
than  evi'f,  f  inn  rising,  i  know,  toward  the  rTy. 
Tbe  snnsblue  m  on  my  head.  The  <'arl  li  giver,  mo 
lbs  generou.r  s.ip,  b'lt  heuMui  lights  me  with  the 
reflection  of  unknown  worbls.  A  ou  say  the  soul 
Is  nothing  but  tlic  mRultaut,  of  bodily  powers. 
Wh.v,  then,  hi  my  wul  Hie  rnotc  biuilnouH  when 
my  Irodlly  powei-s  hr  g|u  to  tall  7  Winter  Is  on  my 
head  and  i  ternal  spring  Ls  |u  my  hcaii.  Tln  ie  j 
breathe  at  this  hour  Mm  rragr;iTi<  o  oi  the  lil3<  s, 
the  vIoletR  and  the  roses,  us  iit  twenty  yeai.s.  Tim 
nearer  1  iipproai  h  l.he  end,  tho  phtiner  1  hesir 
around  me  the  Iramoiial  sy  mplioiib'iior  tlir  worhh, 
which  Invite  mo.  It  ts  mar'clons.  yet  simple,  d 
la  a  iiilry  Uile,  and  It  Is  history.  For  half  a  mi- 
tury  I  have  boon  wrUtng  ray  thoughts  in  proso 
and  r  eme,  history,  phllosojdiy,  dnimu,  romiuice, 
tnrtltlon,  aiitlns  Olio  and  song,  t  havn  tried  all. 
Bul  1  le»d  I  have  not  Kald  the  Uitawandt  h  purl  of 
I  what  is  Jn  me.  When  I  go  down  to  the  gi-ave  L 
can  say,  like  so  many  others,  'I  have  nnishcd  my 
’  day's  work,’  but  I  cannot,  say  ‘  T  have  nnlslHsl  my 
I  life.’  My  day’s  work  will  begin  again  tho  nc.vt 
'  morning.  The  tomb  Is  not  a  blind  nlle.v;  B  Isa 
i  thorouglifare.  It  closes  on  the  twilight  to  open 
I  with  the  dawn.” 
Sn^ENT  MEN. 
Washington  never  made  a  speech.  In  the  /.o- 
nlth  of  his  lame  he  once  attempted  11,  failed,  and 
gav«.  It  up,  confused  and  abablied.  In  framing 
the  Honsututlon  of  tho  Vnlted  hlaUss  tho  labor 
was  almost  wholly  performed  inComraltlcc  of  the 
Whole,  of  which  Gcxirgc  Wa.shlugU)n  was  the 
C’hulrman  He  spoke  twleo  durlrg  the  Go^en- 
Tion;  bill,  his  words  werii  so  lew  that  they  could 
not  tuiv  be  termed  8poeehe.s.  Tho  convention, 
however,  acknowledged  tbo  master  spirit  and 
hlsioiiaiis  atiirm  thnt,  had  it  nut  been  for  J>t8  P«’- 
soual  popularity  and  lira  slneeiity  with  which  ho 
.spoke,  tho  ConrtltutJon  would  have  been  rejected 
by  the  people.  TlmmaR  .Teffei'son  never  made  a 
.spoeeh.  Ho  eonldii’l  do  ft.  Napoleon,  who^  ex- 
ccuflve  ahlUtv  was  almost  without  a  pnrHl.el,Bald 
that  Ills  greateet  irotihla  was  In  tlndlng  men  of 
rti-edB  ratfier  than  woi^s.  'VTicu  stsked  how  Im 
maintained  his  Infliieneo  over  hUs  superiors  in  ^ 
and  experience,  when  Commander-ln-CWcf  of  the 
army  in  Ital.v.  he  said.  “  By  reserve.’  The  gren^ 
ness  of  a  man  Is  not  to  be  ineasurtid  by  the  length 
of  his  speeches  or  their  number. 
A  DELIGHTFUL  LEGEND. 
Therf.  Is  a  beautiful  legend  coimoclei  w  Ith  tho 
site  on  which,  the  Temple  of  Solomon  w  as  erecU'd. 
It  Is  said  to  have  Vie.en  oeeuiUed  lu  common  by 
two  brothens,  one  of  whom  hud  a  family,  but  the 
other  had  none,  (in  thospol.  was  a  Held  of  whtxil. 
On  the  evening  auccoedlhg  the  harvest,  the  wheat 
having  been  gathered  In  shocks,  tho  cider  brother 
said  to  his  uifo; 
“  AIj' youger  brotJier  Is  unable  to  bear  the  bur¬ 
den  and  heat  of  tbe  day.  I  win  arise,  take  off 
my  shocks  and  place  them  with  his,  without  his 
knowledge.” 
The  younger  brother,  being  actuated  by  the 
same  benevolent  motives,  said  wHliln  himself: 
“My  older  brother  has  a  family  and  I  have 
none.  1  will  contribute  lo  their  support.  1  will 
arl.se,  take  off  my  shocks  and  place  them  with 
his,  wit  hout  his  kuowiedge.” 
Judge  of  their  astonishment  when,  on  the  fol¬ 
lowing  morning,  they  found  that  their  respective 
shocks  were  undlnUnishcd.  Tills  course  of  events 
tramspircd  for  several  nights,  when  each  resolved 
in  his  own  mind  to  swnd  gnaid  and,  If  possible, 
solve  t  he  m,vstcry.  They  did  so.  xvhen,  nn  the  fol¬ 
lowing  night,  they  met  each  other  luilf  way  be¬ 
tween  their  respective  sliocKs  with  their  anns 
full. 
Upon  ground  hallowed  by  such  assoclatlonsi  as 
this  wan  the  Temple  of  King  Solomon  erected— so 
spacious,  so  magnllicent,  the  wonder  and  admira¬ 
tion  of  tho  world.  Alaal  lu  these  days,  how 
many  would  soonor  oU'al  their  brother’s  whole 
shock  than  add  to  It  a  single  sheaf  1 
- - 
THOUGHTS  FOR  THINKERS. 
A  GOOD  man  and  a  wise  man  may  at  times  be 
angry  with  the  world,  at  times  grieved  at  It;  but 
It  Is  certain  t  hat  no  man  was  ert?r  tnUy  discon¬ 
tented  wllli  the  world  It  he  fulUifully  perlonned 
his  whole  duty  in  it,. 
The  w'ounds  of  (.‘iihist  were  the  greatest  outlets 
of  his  glory  that  ever  were.  The  divine  glory 
shone  more  out  of  his  wounds  than  out  of  all  hls 
life  before. 
1  It  Is  easier  to  find  a  score  of  men  wise  enough 
I  to  discover  the  truth  than  to  And  one  Intrepid 
enough,  In  the  face  of  opposition,  to  stand  up  for 
the  same. 
