437 
FEB. 26 THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
ftteracD fpsttltatg. 
THE FARMER’S WOOING. 
The daisies nodded In the grasB, the buttercups were 
sleeping, 
And Just across the river Bang the farmers at their 
reaping; 
Upon the hills so blue and far, the maple leaves were 
showing 
Their soft white beauty In the breeze that from the 
*h." was blowing. 
A little maid came thr ugh the lane, with song and 
rippling laughter; 
The buttercups made way for her, the daisies nodded 
after. 
A strong, young farmer saw her pause beside the par 
ing river; 
She drew a lily from its depths, with golden heart 
a-quivev. 
•< Thou art more fair than lilies are,” said he with head 
> i lifted. 
And threw a poppy, as the stream toward the maiden 
dritted. 
She set the flowers in her hair, the red and white to¬ 
gether ; 
A*cloud grew black before the sun and rainy was the 
weather. 
He came across the river then, the farmer from his 
mowing; 
He minded not the water’s depth, he cared not for its 
flowing. 
“OLove!” said he, “ if gleam ing sun and cloudles 
skies o’erlean us. 
The river’s barring width may roll uupassed, untried, 
between ns; 
But when loud thuuder fills the air, and clouds and 
rain come over, ' 
I’ll cross the ocean to your side—I am no fair day 
lover!” 
And so one day the village bells rang out across the 
river. 
Their music set the buttercups and daisies all a- 
quiver, 
While some one drew a lily from the stream so blithe¬ 
ly flowiug, 
And plucked a blood-red poppy that amid the wheat 
was growing; 
The maiden set them in her hair, the red and white 
together. 
With many a smile, a tear or two, and glances at the 
weather. 
They passed beneath the chapel’s sido, the farmer and 
the maiden. 
Where arches crossed above their heads, with snowy 
blossoms laden, 
And in that place of holy oalm the binding words 
were spoken; 
He in his heart boro out the truth, she on her head the 
token, 
The years went by, and some were bright and some 
were clouded over. 
But ever stood he at her side—he was no fair day 
lover. 
-- ♦ - 
ADVENTURES OP AN ANTEDILUVIAN 
In The Land of Promise. 
BY JAMES M’NEILL. 
(Concluded from page 4)1.) 
CHAPTER IV. 
THE INDULGENCE OP A HABIT WHICH CAUSES UN¬ 
PLEASANT RESULTS. 
Having gleaned the papers to my satisfaction, 
or rather dissatisfaction. I resolved upon a ramble 
through the town. Prom the force of habit I felt 
about me for a cigar, as 1 was about, starting forth, 
and to my great delight I Ashed one up out of the 
depths of a hitherto neglected pocket. I lighted 
it, and stepped out on the street. 
so many novel and interesting sights at once 
met my gaze, that t naturally stepped back Into 
the doorway of the hotel to view them more de¬ 
liberately. There waB quite a crowd moving to 
and fro along the street, magnificent looking men 
and women all. on the crowded thoroughfare of 
the city I naturally supposed that all classes and 
conditions or its people would be represented, and 
my surprise was therefore great at the uniformity 
in appearance of the passing crowd. I saw none 
who were either ttashlly or shabbily dressed, none 
who were either oppressed with obesity or angular 
with leanness, none upon whom disease, pov¬ 
erty or misfortune of any kind had set a mark. On 
the contrary, they seemed all to belong to the 
well-to-do class of society; the men were tall, 
broad-shouldered, deep-chested, dignified and ma¬ 
jestic in carriage. Of the women, It Is enough to 
say that they possessed the beauty of form and 
feature; the graceful and energetic mien which is 
conferred by vigorous health and a pure, well- 
balanced. and well cultured mind. But chat 
which moat attracted my attention and interested 
me in this people, was the intelligence and the 
nobility of mind which was clearly wntten In their 
faces. From my lntulllve sense of the relation 
which exists between the outer form and the in¬ 
ner soul, I would have placed unlimited confidence 
in the honor, justice and Integrity of any one of 
them. Anything mean, unkind, ungenerous, or 
unjust Beemed utterly Incapable of finding a har¬ 
boring place In such noble looking specimens of 
our race. 
I have spoken In this manner of this people be¬ 
fore, but the reader, I hope, will pardon this repe¬ 
tition, as there Is nothing which makes such a 
powerful Impression upon us as an Individual 
in whom all the elements of our physical and 
mental natures are completely and harmoniously 
developed. 
What opinion these people formed of me as 1 
stood leaning against the side of the doorway, and 
puffing away at my cigar with a self-complacent 
ah', 1 could only conjecture from their manner. It 
was clear that they regarded me as a curiosity 
for they all gazed upon me as they passed with a 
look in which surprise was most prominently ex¬ 
pressed. I alBo observed that they whispered to 
oue another as they looked at me, and l supposed 
that they were making com moms on my dress 
and personal appearance; for there was a great 
contrast between me and them in both these par¬ 
ticulars. But 1 afterward learned t hat that which 
more than anything else made me an object of 
curious Interest to them was the puffs of tobacco 
smoke which I was continually emitting from my 
mouth. This came out through an old roan whose 
appearance indicated second childhood and de¬ 
crepitude, who stepped aside from the crowd and 
approached me, 
“ I beg pardon,” said he, In a broken voice, 
and with a fatuous expression of countenance, 
“ but I have a great curiosity to know why you 
are making a chimney of your mouth.” 
My first impulse was to resent this impertinent 
speech by a contemptuous silence, but this old 
man being the only person whom I had seen 
whose condition was such as to excite my pity, I 
thought I could afford to treat Ills Impertinence 
with civility, so 1 replied, that I was simply in¬ 
dulging In a habit very common In my country. 
“ And what do you do it for?” said he, “ that Is, 
what good purpose does it, subserve?" 
“I confess, sir,” I replied, “that I cannot tell 
what good purpose It really does subserve. It is a 
habit, sir, merely a habit,.” 
“ A habit!” he repeated,” merely a habit 1 and 
does not promote any good! it must be a very 
pleasant, habit, then,” said he, “ will you allow 
me to try It?” 
I was becoming disgusted with the old man, 
and 1 gave him my cigar, which was now reduced 
to a stump In the hope of getting rid of him. He 
pul It in his mouth and Inhaled deeply; but know¬ 
ing nothing of the art of smoking, he allowed the 
smoke to penetrate cavities which were never de¬ 
signed for it by nature, and the result was a vio¬ 
lent lit of coughing and wheezing which I verily 
thought would have a fatal ending. The tears 
rolled down Ills cheeks, and In hts violent efforts 
to catch hls breath, he would have fallen to the 
pavement had not a bystander caught him In hls 
arms. He was supported Into the hotel and laid 
upon a sofa quite pale and exhausted. 
I was naturally looked to for an explanation of 
the affair, so I gave the facts as I have recorded 
them, to the crowd which the event had called 
around me. One of them hod rescued the cigar 
stump from the street and when I referred to it, 
he held It up to the gaze of the crowd, who seemed 
to regard It as a remarkable curiosity. 
The papers of the next day all contained ac¬ 
counts of the affair and l was referred to In them 
as the peculiar looking stranger who had the 
strange faculty, and who seemed to enjoy the 
operation or burning a disagreeable substance In 
hls mouth, and emitting a smoke which was 
nauseating In the extreme. One of them also 
contained an historical account from a learned 
professor of the habit of tobacco using as practiced 
in au age long past, 
“ l have not seen this stranger,” the professor 
observed In the course of the article, “but from 
the description of him by those who have, he 
seems to be an exact prototype of the people of 
this age. in what region of the earth can he 
have lingered out the Intervening centuries. How 
Is It that he now appears among us like a fossil 
of an almost forgotten age 1" 
TheBc notices served to make me more than 
ever au object of curiosity. I would tain have 
been less so. Indeed I adopted the peculiar dress 
of the country with the view of making myself 
less conspicuous; but the Inferiority of iny per¬ 
sonal appearance could not be disguised. I would 
not have admitted to any Inferiority in this particu¬ 
lar among my own people, but here It made me a 
marked charac.cr wherever I went. 
But to return to the old gentleman. Being well 
stricken In years, the shock to hls system was a 
severe one, but after an hour’s rest, he had recov¬ 
ered sufficiently to be driven In a carriage to hls 
home. I expressed my great regret. To the youDg 
msn who had been summoned to the atd of the old 
gentleman, and who I understood was hls great 
grand-child, at being the Innocent cause of so 
much discomfort to hls ancestor, and I would have 
shown my sense of self-reproach to that ancestor, 
also, by rendering him any service wnich lay In 
my power. But If 1 had been an ogre breathing 
forth fire and smoke, he could not. have shown 
greater uneasiness at my presence, so that f found 
the greatest service I could render him was to de¬ 
part from hUh altogether. 
The gentleman who had gotten possession of the 
cigar stump gave It as a special favor to the hotel 
clerk, and that Individual had a neat casket with 
a glass cover constructed for It, In which it was 
oarefully deposited, to be looked upon by the 
people of Goodwllttomen, and the stranger from 
near and far, as a relic of a long past age. 
CHAPTER V. 
PHILLEGOMOTERS. 
The excitement growing out of the Innocent in¬ 
dulgence of my favorite habit having subsided, I 
again set out on toy tour of observation. 
Ab I was passing out of the door my eye caught 
a glimpse of a great object flying by, about fifteen 
feet above the pavement, with a speed which was 
astonishing, but with scarcely any more noise than 
the whirr which naturally attended Its rapid 
clearoge of the atr. I stepped quickly to the side- 
walk, but when my eye next rested on this flying 
object It was several blocks away, and decreasing 
in size with a rapidity which 1 could scarcely be¬ 
lieve was owing to the increase of distance. 
As I gazed after it, another object Oh the other 
side of the street caught my attention wbloh 
seemed to grow as rapidly as the first was dimin¬ 
ishing. As It approached nearer, I surmised from 
Its appearance that It must be a sort of rapid 
transit for long distance passengers. It bore some 
resemblance to a loDg car with a great rubber ob¬ 
long bag forming Its roof. It did not appear to 
have any wheels, but there were windows In It 
which allowed me to perceive that It was filled 
with passengers. It went by like a flash, and as 
it passed 1 observed wbat appeared like a great 
whirling disk at its hind end, which I took to be 
tbe Bource of Its motion. I marveled that any¬ 
thing of this character, going with such speed, 
should make so little noise; but then Its speed It¬ 
self was a marvel, and that It should slide along 
so rapidly without steam or wheels was also mar¬ 
velous and that people of ordinary prudence 
should entrust, themselves to such a hair lifting 
means of locomotive—even to look upon—exceeded 
anything which I bad ever yet observed In the line 
of the wonderful. 
I stepped to the edge of the sidewalk to look at 
the tracks of these flying machines. They were 
supported on Iron pillars, something like the ele¬ 
vated railroads of‘my own country, and so light 
were they In construction that they appeared to 
me like the work of some crack-brained engineer 
under the control of a rascally board of directors. 
The iron pillars were about twenty feet, apart, and 
consisted of a single post, with two, branching 
arms. These arms supported by four six-Inch 
strips of oak, wbloh formed the bed for the iron 
rails. These were bolted on the outside of the 
oaken strips, which, by the way, were set up edge¬ 
wise upon the arms of the pillars. They were 
about three Inches wide by an inch and a hall 
thick, and they had a deep groove on the under 
side of which, was bright and smooth as polished 
steel. As I 8tood wondering* at this peculiarity of 
construction, and thinking what could be Its pur¬ 
pose, anothor car approaching, attracted my at¬ 
tention. It moved on a different track—and here 
I may observe that there were rour elevated tracks 
along the street, two upon the left’elde for cars go 
Ing up, and two upon the right for those going In 
the opjmtte direction. The inside tracks were for 
long distance passengers, while the outside tracks, 
or those next the sidewalks, carried cars which 
stopped at every cross-street, it was this latter 
kind of conveyance which now approached. It 
was much smaller, and moved much slower than 
that which x had llrel observed. When it reached 
the cross-street below me, it baited, and scarcely 
had it come to a tull stop, when down It went to 
the sidewalk with a suddenness which took my 
breath away, and made me for the moment think 
that I was to bo the witness of a catastrophe. Sev¬ 
eral passengers stepped to the sidewalk, and 
others who had been waiting for tbe car stepped 
on, when It rose to the level of the track almost aa 
suddenly aa it had descended, and was off again 
with scarcely a minute’s delay In the whole pro¬ 
ceeding. 
With the purpose of gaining an Idea of the prin¬ 
ciple of the locomotion of this public conveyance, 
1 stood earnestly watching its approach, when the 
rattle of a carriage, and the exclamation: “ in to 
the sidewalk there, Hero I” diverted my attention, 
and the next moment a moat superb horse, with 
arching neck, majestic step, and a countenance 
which spoke at once of courage, Intelligence, ana 
docility, halted before me. ne was neither guided 
nor restrained by bit or rein, hls only harness be¬ 
ing a girdle to support the thills and hold back the 
carriage, and a breast-coil ar by which to draw it. 
This fact conjoined with the sunerlor qualities of 
the animal, so completely riveted my attention 
that I failed to notice the occupant of the carnage 
till he bade me a cheery good morning. Then I 
observed that It was my acquaintance of the pre¬ 
vious evening who had been so attentive to me In 
the park. 
•‘Come, sir,” said he, in a pleasant, familiar 
manner, “Jump In, and let me show you some¬ 
thing of the city.” 
I looked at the horse, and then significantly at, 
hls master. “ I judge you to be a person of exten¬ 
sive experience,” said I, “ and old enough to have 
a full measure of prudence, but before entrusting 
myself to that bitless and brhlleleea steed, I would 
like to ask what assurance you can give me that he 
will not run away with us, and break our bones, 
or dash out our brains In hls mad career.” 
“ The most satisfactory assurance, sir, that the 
most timid could require,”he replied. “I have 
ridden behind horses in this manner for a hundred 
years or more, and this particular one for fifteen, 
and still my bones are all sound, and my brain still 
completely fills my cranium. If you ask further 
assurance, I will say that It 1 b the common prac¬ 
tice In this country to drive hovsea without a bit 
or bridle, and yet, during the whole course of my 
life, I have never beard of one running away.” 
At this juncture one of the rapid-transit ma¬ 
chines oame whirring along, and I instinctively 
jumped back several paces to be beyond the reach 
of danger from Us lightning speed. This move¬ 
ment was greeted with a hearty laugh from my 
acquaintance. 
“ I hope, sir, you are uot atfltcied with a morbid 
cautiousness,” said he. 
“is u an evidence of morbid cautiousness," I 
asked, •• to get out of the range of such a lightning 
apparatus y Suppose It should leave the track and 
come down to the pavement; I would not like to 
be under it, would you?” 
“ There is not the least danger of It leaving the 
track,” said he, “ or coming down to the pavement 
If it did leave the track.” 
“ 1 suppose, then," said 1, ironically, “ it it were 
disconnected from the track, It would take to the 
air nice a bird and go salllDg away over the house¬ 
tops, bearing Its unterrlfled passengers gleefully 
along with It till It should have an opportunity of 
landing them safely In some vacant lot, where the 
heads of pedestrians would not be endangered.” 
“That is just exactly what it would do,”here- 
repued. “ But come, sir, let me prevail upon you 
to get into my carriage, and we will talk this mat¬ 
ter over as we ride alODg." 
Several turnouts having passed by while we were 
talking, with horses ungutded by bit or rein, I 
was encouraged to accept my friend's invitation. 
“I hope, sir," I remarked on entering the car¬ 
riage, “that you will remember that I am aa 
great a stranger to your customs and Institutions 
as thought had Just arrived Irom another world, 
and that you will make due allowance for the pe¬ 
culiarities which I may display. 1 feel the humil¬ 
ity, the Ignorance and the littleness of a child in 
the presence of your wonderful people and your 
marvels of progress In arc, science, manners, eto., 
of which, 1 suppose, I nave yet gained only a most 
orude and incomplete Idea. 1 would like to have 
you talk to me as you would to a child, and allow 
me to ask all tbe childish questions I like. Now, 
In the first place, my curiosity Is at a keen edge to 
know all about these machines, or whatever you 
may call them, for carrying passengers.” 
2 b oe continued. 
- * * * - 
MAGAZINES FOR FEBRUARY. 
Harper’s Magazine —Contents: The Gospel 
History in Italian Painting: Asleep, a Poem; The 
English Lakes and their Genii, III.; Pottery In the 
United States; The Old New York Volunteer Fire 
Department, II.; Literary and Social Boston; 
Anne, a Novel; The Fire-fly, a Story ; The Early 
History of Charles -Tames Fox ; Puss Tanner’s De¬ 
fense, a story; A Laodicean, Book the First— 
George Somerset; Editor’s Easy Chair; Editor’s 
Literary Record; Editor’s Historical Record; Ed 
ltor‘8 Drawer. 
Paintings in the Catacombs.— The earliest 
works of Christian art In Italy are the wall-paint¬ 
ings In the Catacombs. At first these were merely 
abstract symbols, the Labarum, the Alpha and 
Omega, the fish, used as the sign for the name of 
Christ. Then more pictorial emblems were paint¬ 
ed : the dove, representing the Christian soul free d 
from the body; the peacock or pbcenlx, type of 
immortality; the sheep, signifying the soul in 
the earthly life. Thl3 last emblem stands In 
Immediate connection with the earliest repre¬ 
sentations of Christ as the Good shepherd. This 
ta the favorite subject, of the Catacomb paintings. 
He is depicted aa a beautiful youth In shepherd's 
dress carrying a lamb on hl» shoulders, or leaning 
on hls staff In the midst of a flock, or playine[on a 
shepherd's pipe, while the sheep listen to him. 
The Idea of these pictures Is certainly Biblical; 
but the artistic, form Is supposed to be taken from 
an old Greek statue or Mercury carrying a kid, 
which existed at Tanagra. For It must be observed 
with regard to the art of the early Church that 
once having gained the right to exist. It adopted 
without hesitation materials and forms which had 
been Invented by the heathen. Proceeding on the 
principle that what God hath cleansed man may 
not call unclean, the Christians repeated In their 
religious pictures the type of face, the methodB of 
expression the artistic mannerisms, which are 
found in the wall-paintings of Herculaneum and 
Pompeii. They personified the sun and the moon, 
the earth and the sea, mountains and rivers. They 
even adopted heathen myth3. in a beautiful 
painting from the celling of the tomb of 8. Domt- 
tllla, Chri3t la represented In the character of Or¬ 
pheus playing upon hls lyre, while trees bend to¬ 
ward him, and wild beasts gather at hls feet. 
Mingled with these symbols and allegories we 
find the first beginnings or sacred historical paint¬ 
ing. 
The spirit of all these pictures la purely symbol¬ 
ical. They do not depict, they simply suggest, 
their subjects. They presuppose la the mind of 
the beholder the knowledge of a certain event 
which they shall recall to him by a mystic sign 
for hls comfort and encouragement. For this 13 the 
aim and temper ol the Catacomb paintings to 
strengthen and console. They pass by the passion 
and death of the Lord, to dwell upon the themes 
of gladness and consolation- resurrection, miracle, 
deliverance, hope. They are Joyful and confident. 
They are flowers blossoming In darkness, 3tunted, 
delicate, imperfect, but full of a marvelous bright¬ 
ness an unexttngulshablelife.—Henry J.Van Dyke, 
Jr., in Harper's Magazine for February, 
8t, Nicholas.— Contents: Frontispiece; In che 
Tower—A. D. isoi, Poem. Thorwald and the Star- 
Children; Poor Jack-ln-the Box—Jingle. Illustra¬ 
tion: “ Jack Speaks for Himself;" Winter and Sum¬ 
mer, Poem. The Giant Squid; Cousin Charley’s 
story; Two visions of Fairy-land, Poem; Mystery- 
In a Mansion, Chapters VII. and VIH. ; My Little 
Valentine, Verses; The Goose and the Nightingale, 
Illustrations by J. G. Francis: “ The Entertain¬ 
ment;” In Nature's Wonderland, Chapter IV.; 
Johnny’s Answer, Verses; How Jube Waked the 
Elephant; “ There was a Small Maid of St. Paul,” 
Jingle; The Peterklns Talk of Going to Egypt; 
The S*, Nicholas Treasure-Box of Literature—The 
Skeleton In Armor; The Stage Coach; The True 
Story of the Obelisk; Which? Verses; Phaeton 
Rogers, Chapters V. and VI.; For Very Little Folk 
—The Tame Crow ; Jack-tn-the-Pulplt; The Let¬ 
ter-Box ; The Riddle-Box. 
The Obelisk.— The work of moving the mono¬ 
lith through the streets was the most interesting 
of all. On level ground It traveled about as fast aa 
a boy can walk, and often made six hundred feet 
In a day. The engine pulled easily and without 
jarring or straining, and, when not at work drag¬ 
ging Itself and Its load, helped the men to move 
the timbers in relaying the timbers aa last as It 
went over them. The Frenchman was a year m 
moving hls block four hundred feet and turning It 
around once. The American took It nine thousai.d 
eight hundred feet and went around four sharp 
corners, besides eleven turns of from twelve to 
forty-seven degrees. The way this was done was 
most curious. When the stone came to a corner 
of the street It was ruu upon a curved railway, 
built in a half-circle A ring of channel-bars 
and cannon-balla was placed on the ground, with 
a large hydraulic-Jack In the center. Beyond it 
were two more curved rails, describing a quarter- 
circle. When the locomotive ran out on these 
tracks, the hydraulic-Jack came under the lower 
end of the stone, and the engine rested on the 
outer quarter-circle. A rope was put out to a stake 
on the side of the road, and with a gentle puu the 
whole affair swung around the corner with the 
greatest ease. The hydi-aullc-jack here assisted 
to lift the end and take off the weight, and thus 
make a pivot on which the stone might swing 
around. 
By the time you read this the work will be fin¬ 
ished, and the great monolit h will stand once more 
on Its bronze crabs on its ancient pedestal. The lull 
length of the obelisk Is sixty-nine feet and two 
inches. This Includes the point, or as It Is called, 
the pyramidlou, which is seven feot eight and one- 
