302 
MOORE’S  RURAI.  NEW-YORKER. 
us,  or,  worse  still,  quote  us  as  rebukes  or  examples 
for  the  amusement  of  some  other  woman  I  The 
fact  Is,  the  wise  woman  cares  only  for  herself, 
and  every  one  Immetlialely  fulls  t«  caring  for  her 
too.  It’s  the  lore©  of  example,  I  supiHwo.” 
“Oh,  the  Justice  of  the  unfair  mx  I  ”  cried  Jack, 
with  mock  Indignation.  1  say  of  my  first  love 
that  she  looked  Uko  a  iKjwer  and  I  tliought  her  an 
angel,  nud  !un  ImsUriUy  uccused  of  hearvleas  In- 
dlDToroiKie  for  saying  so.  No,  I  can  assure  you, 
my  nrst  duel  with  the  ‘grand  pa.siilou’  was  a 
most  do.sj)erate  affair.  In  spite  of  my  Corsair 
juocllvltlos  I  liiive  no  doubt  I  should  have  mnrrted 
my  Medoru,  and  repented  the  act  lii  broadcloth 
and  lino  linen  for  tJm  last  Uju  yeare,  had  not, 
another  and  .a  l>older  pu-ate  cai  rled  her  off  bafore 
my  agojdzed  oj'es.  You  ought  ixi  have  known  mo 
In  thoHO  days  I  I  thought  I  was  the  proud  and 
happy  jiropru-tor  of  a  blighted  II  fe.  1  had  sounded 
the  bottomUaM  abyss  of  all  oartlily  sorrow,  and 
knew  to  n  ideety  the  depth  thereof!  It  was  all 
the  more  cruel  in  Medora  since  It  had  been  an 
utter  surrender  at  the  llrst  blow,  ,a  case  of  love  at 
first  sight,  with  me.” 
“  Speaking  of  Ilrsi  Impressions,”  said  Kleanor, 
“  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  quite  honestly  what 
you  thought  of  ma  the  first  tlmo  you  saw  me.  I’ve 
always  been  cuilous  to  know  liow  1  strike  my  con- 
teiuporaries,  and  never  Jiad  such  a  chanco  to  find 
out.  before.  We  sue  so  out  of  the  world  here,  bo 
rfunoved  fi  oin  coiiventionaJ  life,  and  why  not  drop 
conventional  speech  as  w’cll,  and  tell  each  other 
quite  frankly  what  wo  tliink,  for  once?’’ 
It  annoyed  her  io  hear  him  allude  even  tuu.s 
lightly  to  a  woman  he  had  evidently  cared  for 
very  strongly  In  old  limes.  A  vague  jealousy 
prompted  her  to  occupy  him  with  herself,  even  to 
the  exclusion  of  doad  and  burled  rivals;  and,  as 
she  truly  said,  they  were  so  far  removed  from 
cvery-duy  life  that  any  question  seemed  natural 
to  ask.  As  they  lay  under  the  trees  in  the  still 
afternoon,  life  w.as  reduced  to  lis  simplest  exprt«- 
bloii,  aud  an  impulse  of  ArcadUn  simplicity  seemed 
to  possess  them  Isith,  for  Jack  uusw'cred  at  once, 
“  1  hud  much  rather  not  tell  you  what  1  thought. 
I  remember  it  (juiw  well,  but  it  would  not  bo 
pleasant  lo  either  ot  us  U>  think  of  It  now.” 
"  .Mr.  Desmond,  you  shall  toll  me  i  i  insist  upon 
It!  Do,”  she  added,  coaxingly.  “  You  won't  refuse 
me  the  very  ilrsl  favur  l  a.sk  you  on  our  last  day 
together?" 
"  Thanks  for  your  kindness  In  reminding  me  of 
that!”  said  Jack,  abruptly,  looking  away  from 
hei’. 
"  The  fact  1.S,  I  don’t  believe  In  the  least  you  re¬ 
member  where  or  when  wc  met!"  .she  pouted. 
"  Do  you  tliink  so?  It  was  at  the  Whytes’  pri¬ 
vate  theatrleals ;  you  were  dre.ssod  In  some  sort 
of  blue  stuff,  with  wiiite  nowers  In  your  hair,  and 
after  the  play  was  over  you  sang— an  nJr  from  I'he 
Huguenots.  Airs.  Whyte  Ihtroductxl  me  to  you, 
aud  we  talked  together  for  an  hour  or  more,  until 
you  left  at  twelve  o’clock  to  go  to  the  I’russliui 
mlulsler’s  ball.” 
“  Hut  that  Is  only  what  you  saw.  l  asked  for 
what  yoti  thought.  See,”  she  said,  coquettlshly, 
“Ml  give  you  this  buuch  of  violets,  my  own  pet 
fluwcrs,  that  I've  brought  all  the  way  from  itome. 
If  you  will  tell  mo  what  you  thought  of  mel” 
Jack  looked  at  her  fixedly  a  moment,  and  burst 
out  laughing.  “  You  arc  a  true  woman,  Eleanor,” 
he  said;  "but  it  would  bo  asking  too  nmcli,  per¬ 
haps,  to  expect  you  to  forego  proving  your  power. 
I’ll  tell  you  what  I  thought,  that  night  I  I  watohed  i 
you  a  long  while,  and  1  said  to  myself.  Hero  at.  i 
lost  Is  a  face  to  live  with  and  to  die  for,— the  frank,  i 
loyal  race  ot  a  girl  whose  love  It  w’ore  W'ell  worth  - 
risking  one's  llte  to  obtain;  a  girl  above  the  petty  i 
considerations  of  soeloty;  a  girl  with  enough  j 
heart  to  love  a  man  tor  himself  and  not  for  what  ( 
he  could  give  her,  and  enough  courage  to  avow  it. 
That,  Miss  Hardy,  was  my  hrst  lmpres.slon  of  i 
you.” 
Eleanor  turned  very  pale.  Sometlilng  in  his  ( 
emotion  had  touehod  her ;  here.  In  tho  country,  ( 
away  from  Home  and  her  aunt,  It  seemed  so  much  t 
more  dllllcult  to  reall/.e  sailstactorlly  the  wisdom  i 
of  her  choice.  EverythUig  about  her  was  young  i 
and  full  of  hope;  all  the  softne-ss  of  the  spring  1 
seemed  to  whlsiier  to  lier  that,  life  Is  short,  and  i 
love  the  Olio  good  of  life.  It  was  hard  to  have  to  l 
renounce  it  all,  and  something  in  Desmond's  ex-  l 
presslon,  “a  girl  with  enough  heart  to  love  a  man  i 
for  hlmseli  and  not  lor  what  he  could  give  her,”  t 
seemetl  suddenly  to  cast  a  new  light,  and  not  a  £ 
ideasanl  one  at  that,  on  her  own  motives  aud  lii-  i 
toutlons.  She  was  .at  once  nniiilllatod  aud  angry ;  j 
she  admired  Jack  for  Lis  contompt  of  ivhar  she  t 
coveted,  a  hundred  times  more  than  she  had  ever 
done  before ;  but  whl  le  ackuo wledgl  ng  Ids  suporl-  1 
oilly  to  hcrsell,  sho  would  have  punished  him  for  c 
It  If  she  liud  had  lUe  power  to  do  It.  r 
“  And  what  la  youi-  last  Imiucsslon  or  me ?”  she  * 
asked,  slowly. 
Desmond  had  i  lscn  aud  was  gathering  up  her 
hat  and  fun  and  cloak.  •  ■  1  shal  I  not  tell  you  what  , 
i  think  of  you  now,”  he  answered,  quietly.  ^ 
“  Wliy  don't  you  say  at  once  that  you  despise  '  ^ 
me!”  she  cried.  Impetuously.  “Don't  you  sup-  ” 
pose  1  underetand  wliat  you  mean  ?”  ® 
“  No,  f  don't  think  you  do,”  he  answered,  slowly. 
“1  have  loved  you  too  weU  ever  to  despise  you;  ^ 
hill  1  am  sorrj’,  very  sorry  for  you,  Eleanor,  i  do 
not  blame  you,  mind  that  i  It  is  not  y  our  faidt  if 
I  wfis  tool  enough  to  imagine  in  you  qualities  you 
do  not  possess.  You  may  not  be  what  1  once  ^ 
thought  you,  but  no  one  who  sees  you  can  dispute 
your  charm.” 
'The  grave,  dispassionate  pity  in  his  voice  seemed  1 
to  Eleanor  to  give  the  tmtshlng  touch  to  her  mor- 
tlflcatlon.  A  sudden  fear  lest  she  had  lowered 
herself  Irretrievably  In  his  eyes  mad  8  her  silent;  j 
a  sudden  disgust  of  her  own  alms,  tastes  and 
wishes  kept  her  from  speaking  as  they  walked 
s  slowly  back  to  the  Inn.  The  violets  she  had 
3  offered  him  had  fallen  unheeded  at  his  feet  as  she 
,  rose  to  go,  and  a  sharp  pang  of  regret,  passed 
r  through  her  as  sho  noticed  his  uitor  indifference 
to  her  gift.  "  Well,  l  have  no  one  but  mi  siolf  to 
,  thank  for  it !  ”  she  thought,  with  a  desperale  effort 
;  at  philosophy,  “  Better  so.  Tho  day,  or  some- 
I  thing  in  the  strangeness  of  our  being  »o  long  alone 
,  together,  has  made  me  weak  and  sentimental.  I 
,  shall  be  myself  again  when  T  get  homo,” 
I  AttUclirst  turn  1(1  the  road  Desmond  stopped 
•  suddenly.  '•  Kxiuse  me  a  moment,"  he  s.ald.  “l 
I  must  see  if  i  left  my  clgar-caso  under  that  tree.'’ 
Eleanor  sat  down  on  tho  bank  by  the  road.slde 
,  wliih>  he  luu  quickly  back  to  where  they  had  lieen 
sitting. 
“At  least  1  shall  have  that  much  of  you,  my 
darling!”  he  said,  half  aloud,  us  he  picked  iqi  her 
withortvl  and  bruised  bunch  of  violets,  and  put 
them  tenderly  away  In  bis  note-case. 
In  aiioUicr  uiomont  he  w«.s  again  at  her  side, 
and  they  walked  quietly,  almost  sadly,  back  to 
Ostia.  It  was  now  aliuosi  six  o'clock,  'i  he  .sun 
had  Slink  low  down  to  the  utmost  verge  of  the 
lulst- veiled  liorizon;  long  shadows  were  falling 
across  Hie  Ilclda,  and  at  l.hei>aiiture-gato8  tho  cat¬ 
tle  were  crowded  togorher,  waiung  lo  be  driven 
home.  As  Eleanor  stood  in  the  court-yard  of  the 
lull,  waiting  for  Jack,  w  ho  had  gone  to  see  after 
their  honses,  a  neat-looking  .voung  woman  with  a 
IltUc  child  111  her  arms  came  up  aud  asked  for 
nlins.  Eleanor  looked  at  her.  “  Is  your  husband 
living’/”  sbe  asked. 
“  Yes,”  said  the  woman. 
"  Why  does  ho  let  you  beg  In  this  way,  then?” 
It  was  a  bad  year,  the  beggar  told  her,  aud  her 
husband  was  out  of  ivork ;  he  w  orked  at  tho  quar- 
rluB  when  he  could,  but  nothing  had  been  done 
there  for  a  long  time. 
“Is  he  good  to  you  ?  do  you  love  him  in  spito  of 
Ills  doing  noUdng  for  you  ?'■ 
He  was  the  best  man,  yes,  and  tho  handsomest, 
too,  In  the  village,  his  wife  answered,  lluslilng  as 
she  spoke.  Eleanor  hastily  emptied  her  purse  into 
the  child’s  hand.  ••  There  are  people  in  the  world 
more  to  be  pitied  than  you  are,”  she  said,  bitterly. 
“M'hatl  baeje  already.  Mr.  Desmond '/  Wc  had 
bettor  stall  at  once,  then.  1 1  is  growing  late,  and 
1  am  afraid  my  ahnL  will  be  displeased  that  I 
stayed  so  long.” 
They  rode  slow'ly  back  Towards  Homo.  The  sun 
was  setting  1/1  the  golden  glory  that  .so  often  trans- 
llgures  the  hast  hour  ot  a  sirocco  day. 
“  J  wonder  why  It  Is  lliat  there  is  such  patlietlc 
suggestions  In  a  ncMvork  of  brauches  against  an 
evening  sky?"  said  Eleanor.  “Do  .vou  know,  1 
never  see  the  bedge-row's  against  a  red  sunset 
without  feeling  that  somewhere,  some  time— ages 
ago,  In  anotijor  life,  perhajis,— l  have  seen  tho 
same  thing  and  been  very  unhappy  at  the  lime. 
1  always  fool  as  though  Uiere  were  something  tor 
me  to  be  wretohed  about:  they  hint  of  some  by- 
gone  grief  which  I  cannot  remember,  and  make 
me  vaguely  sad  at  the  loss  of  some  forgotten  joy.” 
—[Conclusion  next  week. 
- - 
A  BIT  OF  COMMON  SENSE. 
nV  KENNgTII  nUNN. 
"  The  busy  days  are  crowding  fast  upon  us,” 
said  Ella  with  a  iltUo  sigh. 
“Yes;”  answered  practical  Etta,  “and  now  I 
am  about  to  deliver  u  short  lecture;  ”  sitting 
down  and  folding  her  brown  hands  over  her 
sinootli  white  apron.  “Never  do  your  w'ork  but 
once,  Ella,  aud  then  do  U  well.  A  great  many 
people  do  their  work  over  sL\,  eight,  or  even  ten 
times  by  so  much  thinking  and  talking  about  It ; 
now’  to-day  Ls  Monday  and  you  aud  I  havo  been 
doing  a  heavy  w’ashlng - ” 
“  Yes :  ”  1  am  perfectly  conscious  of  It;  ”  Inter¬ 
rupted  Ella. 
“  The  clothes  arc  out  In  the  sunshine  diylng," 
continued  Etta;  “do  not  give  them  another 
thought  until  It  Is  time  to  bring  them  in ;  if  you 
are  very  ilrcd  11©  down  and  go  to  sleep,  It  not 
occupy  youreelf  with  an  iiiicrestlng  iKxik:  wo 
have  done  enough  hard  work  to-day,  you  well 
know  mot  hei-  does  not  expect  us  to  do  anytlilng  , 
more  until  supper  time.  To  bo  sui  c  wo  niiist  go  ■ 
to  house-cloanliig  w-morrow,  but  do  not  let  tho  i 
fact  erirtr  your  niinii  until  after  breakfast  to-  i 
moiTow’  morning:  then  u  will  not  require  more  i 
than  ten  minutes  to  plan  our  work,  and  one  can  i 
see  60  clearly  after  a  good  night’s  sleep.  Now  j 
work  In  this  way,  Ella  and  you  will  soon  Uud  f 
yourself  singing  all  day  long,  Instead  of  wcailng  | 
that  ugly  frown  upon  your  brow.”  , 
“Yes;  that's  Just  if;”  said  their  father,  who  j 
had  been  an  amused  listener  to  ETta’s  “  lecture  ”  ; 
opening  the  kitchen  door;  “  there’s  a  bit  of  com-  ] 
mou  sense  In  that  small  bead  of  j'ours  my  duugh-  ; 
ter." 
Che  Pn-iirj)  dlorlh.  '  Sahhaflj 
KECENT  LITEBATURE. 
Riycreide  Press  C.'entcnnInI  Guide*  liookn.— 
1.  J«wton  to  Washington.  IC’loth.— iip.  2n(l  Price 
2.  Wasliingtiju ; 3.  Plmadelplda :  4.  New  York! 
^ 
The  Ocnti'nnlal  ims  been  provocative  of  a  vast 
amount,  of  useful  knowledgn-  in  tlie  shape  of  guhle 
IxxikK,  and  under  the  pretense  of  Illuminating  the 
path  of  the  verdant  forcigher,  tve  Americans  will, 
doubtless,  learn  many  raids  about  our  chief  cities, 
(hat  wu  were  quite  willing,  formerly,  to  assume 
to  know,  without  much  knowledge  to  support 
the  asBumjiilou.  With  comtuendablc  enterprise, 
Messrs.  licHO  Hocuuton  have  produced  a  series 
of  small  books  that  are  in  turn  hlstorleR,  Itinera¬ 
ries  and  guides.  ’'Boston  ro  WiLshlngton”  Is  a 
coudeuBod  but  Bucclnct  guide  to  the  cities  of  Bos¬ 
ton,  New  York,  I'hlladelphia,  Bultlmarc  and  Wash¬ 
ington,  Including  the  Centennial  grounds,  build¬ 
ings,  etc.  I'he  book  is  es]ie4;lHlly  commendable 
ou  account  of  the  very  complete  arrangement  of 
the  Index,  w  lilch  leaver  iiotulug  to  be  desired  as  a 
ix*ady  l  etercnoe.  liat.her  loo  much  epaee  Is  given 
to  t  he  euumerallou  of  obscure  New  England  towns 
tlirough  which  the  traveler  issuiqiosed  to  pass, 
and  allliough  sea-sonahle,  ii  la  of  no  great  InqKirt- 
ance  to  know  that  Houth  Erandrigham  “  Is  a  rnau- 
ulueturlng  town,  In  which  straw  hats  and  bonnets 
are  the  leading  Interest."  The  plans  of  the  cllles. 
Inserted  In  ajiproprlate  places,  are  a  verygrH,it 
help  to  tho  tourist,,  aii<t  a  feature  w'orthy  of  coni- 
mendatlon.  In  addition,  there  is  a  largo  colored 
map  of  the  United  States  that  fits  into  a  jiockct  on 
tlie  back  cover,  that  ts  convenience  itself.  Tlie 
smaller  jiajm*  books,  devoted  to  a  single  city,  are 
merely  reprints  of  the  principal  book,,  using  such 
mutter  iLS  pcrt'dlns  to  tlie  place  under  considera¬ 
tion  onlj'.  As  gidde  hooks  our  preference  would 
be  given  to  the  lattor.  When  we  add  that  the 
mechaulcul  execution  and  utsic  displayed  lu  tlie 
style  or  the  publication  lcave.s  nothing  to  be  de¬ 
sired,  uud  that  tJiesamo  multer  la  obtainable  In 
English,  French,  German  aud  Spanish  at  tlie  same 
price,  we  have  said  all  that  Is  neeoNsary  lo  Indi¬ 
cate  to  our  readers  the  Imporuiiice  of  supplying 
thomsclvoa  with  some  such  book,  ere  they  visit 
the  Great  National  Show  this  summer. 
Ilniid-nook  for  Fruit  Gvowei-H.  By  F.  It.  El¬ 
liott.  [IXiuo.— i>p.  liis.  Koohester,  N.  Y. ;  li,  AI. 
Dewey. 
We  always  expect  more  from  the  pen  ot  an 
author  tvlio  has  already  done  some  good  work 
than  from  a  notice.  With  this  expixlaUon  wn 
opened  tho  handsome  Dllle  volume  before  us,  and 
will  add  Dial  on  Us  iieriLsal  we  were  not  disap¬ 
pointed.  From  the  author’s  long  expcrleiieo  he 
has  cuUed  much  which  will  be  of  benefft  to  new 
bcglnneis  in  horticulture,  aud  bus  phicixi  It  be¬ 
fore  lliom  In  ])lnlu  aud  mslly  -  understood  lau- 
jfuage.  Of  courso  Mr.  Er.Liorr  lias  his  own  Indi¬ 
vidual  Ideas  and  opinions  In  regard  to  the  manner 
ot  cultivating,  as  well  a.s  the  nietlLs  of  the  differ¬ 
ent  varieties  of  fruits,  and  w'hlle  lii  some  few  lii- 
Rtanccs  Ave  should  disagree  tvllh  him,  still,  upon 
the  Wliolc,  ho  has  not  strayed  very  far  away  from 
Die  generally  accepted  conclusions  of  our  leachug 
IKimoIoglRts.  The  lisls  of  varieties  given  are 
quite  extonslve,— In  fact,  avc  think  loo  much  so¬ 
und  the  amateur  or  culUv.nor  who  may  only 
want  a  fcAV  sm’Us  will  in  some  liiMancos  be  puz- 
xlcd  to  know  Avherc  to  begin  and  Avhere  to  stop, 
lu  order  to  g«’t  Just  Avliai  he  wants— no  more  and 
no  le.ss.  But  tlie  methods  of  cultivating,  propa¬ 
gating  aud  plauilng,  as  well  as  the  descilptlnn  of 
sorts,  are  given  lu  so  concise  u  manner  Dim  the 
reader  will  not  be  Avcnrled  by  long  -  drawn;- out 
theories— too  irequently  Indulged  in  by  authors 
wlio  Him  at  producing  more  pi’el.uuttous  work.s.  it 
Is  altogether  a  handy  and  A  aliiable  book  for  those 
who  cultivate  fruits  for  homo  use  and  market. 
'l*uEitE  have  been  some  radical  changes  In  the 
last  century.  A  lauulred  yearn  ago  they  Iclssed  a 
lady’s  hand;  nuAv  you  kl.s.i  bei’  Ups— that  ts,  of 
course,  If  you  Imiqten  to  be  behind  Die  Avood-plle 
and  nobody  Is  looking,  and  you  don’t  Avunt  to  dis¬ 
appoint  her.  It  may  take  lOO  years  to  get  from 
her  hand  to  her  mouth,  but  we  never  felt  that  the 
lime  Avas  mlssiient.— A'<«-(cfc/(  JtuUetlii. 
♦  ♦ » - - 
BOOKS  RECEIVED. 
From  g.  P.  Pctnam’s  Sons,  Ncav  York : 
Wycli  Ha’zel.  By  Busan  and  Anna  Warner, 
[pp.  5‘28.  Cloth.] 
Herd  A:  lIororiTON,  Cambridge,  Alass. : 
Grchlds.  By  E.  8.  Itaud,  Jr.  [pp.  ITG.  Cloth. 
Illustrated.  I’rice,  $3,5u.] 
Magazines  for  Maa’: 
Wide  Awake,  St.  Nlcliolas,  Domestic  Monthly, 
'The  Globe. 
Official  Ginilv  tn  I'iiilRdeliibia.— By  Tho-Mthok 
AVtsicorr.  lClotb.-i(i).  426.]  PhiiHacIpUia:  I'or. 
l«ir  4c  v'outes. 
The  publbiliei’sare  to  be  congratulated  on  se¬ 
curing  the  serAlcos  of  Mr.  WKSroorr  In  Dils  cnt,er- 
prlse.  Pi  obubly  no  genUemau  Is  bettor  quullllod 
to  toll  all  abiiut  the  Oily  of  Brot  herly  J.oA-o,  or  be 
a  wore  entcrlalnlng  guide,  iddlosopher  aud  friend, 
than  lb  Die  genial  editor  of  the  Times.  ’I’he  com- 
pllailon  1.S  Diorougli  aud  happy  In  its  urriingemeut, 
and  If  any  visitor  goes  away  from  Phlladelplila 
saying  he  •'  didn’t  sec  mucli,  any  hoAv,”  it  aviU 
be  through  main  stupidity.  'I’ho  engraA’lngs  are 
especially  notewonliy,  as  such  careful  Avork  Is 
seldom,  u  ever,  found  In  a  l.iook  or  this  character. 
Ill  conclusion,  avc  may  say  that  the  book  must  per 
force  bo  “regular,"  as  It  Is  omcial,  and  Is  approved 
by  the  Mayor  over  his  autograph. 
eieii  Bio rieii.— [Paper.— pp.  276.  Price,  75  cU.l  Ken- 
iork :  G.  1*.  Putunm’s  oonH. 
This  book  Is  u  compllailon  similar  in  style  to 
“Stories  for  the  Home  Circle,”  noticed  belOAv. 
The  advantages  of  such  works  as  these  under 
uotico  mo  Dial,  being  c.arofully  edited,  a  series  of 
stoiles  arc  presented  for  the  amusement  of  young 
people,  wnich  are  exciting  and  Avholcsomely 
sensational.  They  are  hapjiiiy  free  from  any  of 
the  crude,  demoralizing  devlcoB  resorted  to  by 
contributors  to  so-called  Boys’  Papers,  AVhose  per¬ 
nicious  Influence  on  the  youth  of  tho  country  can 
scarcely  be  overesUmated. 
Htories  lor  the  Home  Uirele.— New  York:  G  P 
Puiuam'ci  Sons,  [Paper,  76  ctB.J 
While  the  constant  reader  of  tho  literature  of 
the  day  would  rind  but  little  ucav  In  these  fourteen 
stories,  the  flr.si  reading  of  any  of  them  avouUI  be 
both  profitable  and  pleasant.  They  are  the  best 
ot  their  kind,  aud  are  just  the  stories  to  be  read, 
one  at  a  time.  In  the  home  circle  where  reading 
aloud  Is  a  habit. 
IF  I  SHOULD  DIE  TO-NIGHT. 
i,  I F I  Hhould  die  to-night, 
!\fy  friondr.  would  look  iqx>n  my  quiet  face, 
Before  they  laid  It  in  ita  rrHting-plaoo, 
And  doom  that  death  had  loft  it  aiuioot  fair ; 
<  And  la}-iniri«n(iw-Avhtt«  flowers  figolust  ray  hair 
'  AVoiild  Bmooth  it  down  with  tonrfni  londerneBs, 
3  And  fold  ray  haiidN  with  lingering  eweas,— 
,  Poor  handa,  «o  enird y  and  «o  Mid  to  aimit ! 
’  If  I  abould  dio  to-night, 
My  friouda  would  roll  to  ralnd,  with  loving  thought, 
!■  Some  kindly  doed  Iho  icy  hand  had  wrought, 
,  Borao  gonlle  word  the  Irotcn  llp«  had  aaJd : 
J  Errands  <  m  which  thn  wUHng  feet  had  «i  led— 
The  uiuiuory  of  my  oelflHiraefte  and  tnide, 
^  My  hasty  Avordu  would  »l|  be  put  aside, 
And  BO  I  Hhould  Iw  loved  and  mourned  to-night. 
If  1  ehould  die  to-night, 
Even  heartB  estranged  would  turn  once  more  to  me, 
,  Kccalling  other  day*  rcmoreefully. 
.  'rhe  eysH  that  chill  me  with  averted  glance, 
AA'ould  look  upon  me  a.v  of  yore,  piTchanoo, 
And  I  often  In  the  old  fiirailiar  way, 
'  For  who  would  war  with  dumb,  uticonoctouB  clay  1 
I  Ho  I  might  rost,  forgiven  of  all  to-night. 
Gh,  friend*,  I  jTay  to-iiight. 
Keep  not  j’our  kisaoB  for  my  dead,  cold  brow. 
The  way  is  lonely ;  lot  me.  fed  them  now. 
'  Think  gently  of  me ;  I  am  Iravel-wnru, 
My  faltering  feet  are  pierced  with  many  a  thorn. 
ForgiA-e !  oh,  hearla  estrangeil.  forgive,  I  idead  ! 
AMicu  dreamlcM  reel  is  mine  1  ehall  not  need 
The  teuderncBB  for  which  I  lotig  to-night. 
llAtUU’t  Living  Age. 
-  ♦  ♦  - - 
AT  EVENTIDE. 
Y’'eb,  at  eventide,  we  are  all  waiting  for  that. 
Availing,  watching,  hoping,  for  “At  eventide  It 
shall  be  light;"  light  that  seems  .Hi  tho  more 
bright  and  glortous  bccanseof  Uia  darkness  be¬ 
fore  IL  How  ofton  after  tho  dreariest  days  we 
see  Die  most  lovely  giuisota  i  Do  we  ever  stop  to 
think  that  Die  clear  simsct  is  not  the  most  beau- 
tllul  7  Far  more  exqul-sUc  is  the  one  Avhogn  light 
is  thished  back  nijon  us  by  the  clouds.  .So  the  Ufa 
that  has 
— "  Just  enough  shadow 
To  tcmiMjr  the  glare  of  the  sun," 
Is  more  comfi)rt4:d  by  these  words,  “At  eventide 
It  shall  be  light,”  and  to  one  whoso  life  is  nearly 
all  sUadOAv,  tliLs  as-siiranco  is  doubly  sweet,  'I’o 
every  one,  AVlth  Die  lUouglil  of  evening  comes  the 
thought  or  rest ;  rest,  the  real  object  for  Avhkh 
Avo  are  all  si  rlviug  and  longing.  Bo  to  chose  who 
are  most  weary,  the  eTentlde  brings  the  SAveetest 
rest  from  the  work  of  this  world,  and  at  the  last 
-at  the  eventide  of  our  llves-lf  avc  have  faith¬ 
fully  borne  the  burden,  Ave  shall  find  “a  rest 
which  remalneth  for  the  people  of  god.” 
Kpth  More. 
- - - - 
THOUGHTS  FOR  THINKERS. 
God  hands  gifts  to  some,  Avhlspera  them  to 
othei’S. 
A  MAN  does  harm  to  others  by  his  actions  to 
himself  by  his  thoughte,  ’ 
As  the  earth  Is  a  point  compared  Av1th  the  heav¬ 
ens,  80  ore  earthly  troubles  comjinred  with  heav¬ 
enly  joys. 
I’KKUAi's  there  luis  been  no  simpler  definition  of 
faith  than  the  one  given  by  the  late  Dr,  HusUiiell 
that  “It  Is  that  act  wJiereby  one  peiyon— a  sinner 
—commits  himself  to  another  persou-a  Saviour.” 
TitANijiiKKSsioNH  Of  thc  Divluo  law  constitute 
not  merely  the  slii  and  sonoAv  of  Die  Individual 
!  but  the  sin  aud  sorrow  ot  nations.  Outside  of 
Christianity,  uclDier  pro.sperlty  nor  freedom  Avlll 
ever  be  lasting. 
OF  the  130,000  families  which  the  agents  of  the 
Southwestern  Bible  Soidety  havo  visited  In  Loul.s- 
laua  and  Mls.sls.slppl,  47,000  were  AAithout  the 
Bible.  There  were  I’Z.oTS  families  visited  lu  Ncav 
Orleans,  3,511  of  which  had  no  Bible. 
Moke  joyliUly  look  at  the  foMUng  than  at  the 
rising  sum  Burdens  are  laid  down  by  the  poor, 
Avhom  the  sun  consoles  more  than  the  rich.  No 
star  and  no  moon  announce  the  Using  sun;  and 
does  not  tbe  sett  ing  sun.  Uke  a  lover,  leave  be¬ 
hind  Ills  image  ou  tho  moon?  I  yearn  tOAvard 
him  ATlum  he  sets,  not  Avhen  he  rises.— /f/c/i/tr. 
The  making  uno  objoot,  in  outAA’ard  or  Inward 
nature,  more  holy  to  a  single  heart,  ti  reAA’urd 
enough  fur  a  life;  for  thc  more  sympaDilcs  Ave 
gam  or  awaken  for  Avhat  Is  beauMlnl,  by  so  much 
deeper  Avlll  be  our  sympathy  for  that  Avhlcli  Is 
beautiful,  by  so  much  deeper  ivlll  bo  our  sympa¬ 
thy  for  tmu  wlUch  Is  most  beautiful,  Die  human 
souU— Xon'c//. 
You  ask  bitterly,  like  Pontius  Pilate,  What  Is 
truth?  In  such  an  hour,  whalrernams?  I  reply', 
obedience.  Leave  those  thoughts  for  the  present! 
Act— be  merciful  and  gentle— nonest ;  force  your¬ 
self  to  abound  m  little  services;  be  true  to  the 
duty  you  know.  That  must  be  nght,  Avhatever 
else  Is  uncertain.  And  by  all  the  laws  of  tho 
human  heurU  by  the  Avord  of  God,  you  shall  not 
be  left  to  doubt.-/',  ir,  noiwnson. 
We  arc  surrounded  by  motives  to  plely  and  dc- 
A-otiou,  If  AAo  should  but  ndiid  them,  ’rho  poor 
are  designed  to  excite  our  Uberallty ;  the  misera¬ 
ble,  our  pity  ;  the  sick,  our  assistance;  the  Igno¬ 
rant,  our  Instruction;  those  that  are  fallen,  our 
helping  hand.  In  those  Avho  are  vain  Ave  see  tho 
vanity  of  tho  world ;  m  those  who  are  Avlcked,  our 
own  frailty'.  When  we  sec  good  men  rewarded,  It 
confirms  our  OAvn  hope;  and  Avhen  evil  men  are 
punished,  It  excites  our  fear.— Bis/top  luffso/i. 
