THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
trade; unless, Indeed, the swapping and sale of 
chargers —for which I will back myself against 
any cavalry officer In her Majesty’s service—may 
be considered by the pedantic as coming under 
that head. As for the city, I know nothing more 
about It than that It was a locality lying oust of 
you never heard Brooks tell the story about his 
leg, and how Slowcombe made game of It?” 
I did not like to say that I myself had promised 
to go down to Sloweombe’S; but I made up my 
mind irom that moment that I wouldn't go. lam 
not a family man, but I respect myself, J hope, as 
Cox’s, the army agent’s, which was the limit of , much as If T was; and I wasn’t going to be blown 
my personal experience In that dlrectlou. I have 
always breathed quite another atmosphere—that 
of Pall Mall. 1 wish I could say a purer one; but 
the fact Is, that the atmosphere at the smoking- 
rooms both at the " Rag” and the “ Junior” are, 
toward the small hours of the morning, when my 
own day Is hy no means finished, somewhat ap¬ 
palling. 
I had: three hundred a year for directing the 
Butter Company; and It was far easier work, 1 
am bound to say, than were the old duties In my 
regiment, for which I was paid a precisely similar 
sum. Once a month the Chairman called for me 
In his brougham, and deposited roe at the offices 
in Cornlilll where, after an excellent luncheon, 
(of which our butter formed no ingredient), 1 at¬ 
tached my autograph to certain documents, a 
proceeding which, I believe, Is technically termed 
“ passing the accounts.” 
There wore some persons of my acquaintance 
and profession—persons I have reason to believe 
who Had themselves applied for directorships and 
failed—whp did not scruple to call the Great. But¬ 
ter Company n, slippery concern, and who affected 
to give me friendly counsel to get, out of it; but 1 
was too wOIl accustomed to the. system of military 
exchaugos not to perceive their drift—their object 
was, of course, to be gazetted In my stead. I It.- 
tened to their jokes about" Martingale the man 
of business” every time f returned from an expe¬ 
dition to CornhUl with even more than my usual 
good nature, for 1 had twenty-live golden reasons 
in my pocket—the directors were paid monthly— 
for sticking to the Butter. A nd I believe the But¬ 
ter would have stuck to mo had It. not been for 
my own fault—if I can call that a fault which was 
the most extraordinary piece of 111-fortune that 
ever befell a fellow, and solely through another 
fellow’s being too clever by half. 
, "MU say the G. B, c r —ag wo who belonged to It 
werraccustomed to call It, as the Chairman said, 
“outer affection and euphony,” but so far as I 
was concerned, for mere shortness—was a Ut tle 
“talked about;” It had Its detractors, and even 
Its enemies. People shook their heads at It—es¬ 
pecially when they tasted t he bntter—and pro¬ 
phesied we should not last, and It was necessary 
to advertise considerably to get. new customers. 
Our business lay rather with new ones than old 
ones, perhaps, butlO was gradually getting spread 
over the country—though thinly spread, like but¬ 
ter upon bread at school. 
“ So long as we were harmonious among our¬ 
selves,” said the Chairman, or, at all events, 
washed our duty linen at home—did not attack 
one another In the papers, as so many boards of 
directors are wont to—we should bo all right,; but 
If once there should be mistrust of one another, 1 
he would not answer for the consequences. “i.el 
only the Great Butter Company be Lruo to Itself,” 
said he, during the peroration of the most power- 1 
ful speech 1 ever remember to have hoard from ] 
any man sitting, " and 1 do not hesitate to affirm 
that the days of dairying are numbered.” For, ' 
though 1 am still under an obligation of secrecy as ' 
to tho material of which our butter was composed, 1 
I may say It had nothing In common with dairies ’ 
—except a little water. Enough, however, of com¬ 
mercial details. f 
When playing at pool in the early autumn one ■- 
night at the Club, I had the misfortune to lose— • 
neither my money nor my life, for I am amazingly * 
careful of both, but—my' self-possession, and [ 
somehow or ot her got Inveigled Into a promise to r 
go down to old Slowcombe’s to shoot upon the l 
first of October. It, was a foolish thing to do, for <J 
Slowcombe Is a bore, and I happened to owe him 
a little money; and when a man Is both a boro S 
and a creditor, It Is Intolerable to be under tho u 
same roof with Mffi, more especially If It be his s 
own. \ 
There were some excuses for me; for in the v 
first place t here were so few men in town that we tl 
were obliged to ask Slowcombe to make up tho p 
pool; and secondly, wlion one owes a fellow c 
money, one is bound to be civil to him. We got o 
talking of pheasants, and the old fellow asked me tl 
If I liked pheasant-shooting and when 1 said yes, e 
“Then come,” said lie, » and have a ahy at mine.” b 
I no more suspected Slowcombe of having any 
phtasant-shootlng to give away than of keeping g 
a roulette-table at Hampton Court races. lie was 
a stodgy, pursy, plethoric old fellow, who had 1: 
been In tho yeomanry tor a day or two, (just to u 
get a qualification for tho Club), and had then 
rested on his laurels, still, when a man farms Si 
his own land there is always a temptation to get 
something out of It, and It scented be had grown ti 
pheasants- I ought to have been more prudent, n 
and I will another time, or my name is not Mar- q 
tlngale. D1 
1 am, however, a man of my word, and 1 never st 
thought of breaking my promise to Slowcombe “ 
until 1 heard him ask another man, and then an- v< 
other, to come down and enjoy themselves among m 
his covens, and both of them refused point-blank. 
They did not owe litm money, as I did; but It « 
struck me that they were more decided In their si 
negatives than the occasion demanded. ct 
“ Why don't you go down to poor old Slow- a> 
combo’s?” said I to one of them, a man I should 111 
have liked as a companion in such an expedition; w 
“ he means well and Is quite harmless.” 
“Harmless: By Jove! that Is Just what he cc 
Isn’t,” was the unexpected reply. “Why, last 
year was the first, according to his own conies- w 
slon, that he ever took gun in hand, and he shot pi 
Brooks of ours In the leg at fifteen yards In one bl 
tf his own turnip-fields, you don’t mean to say ca 
to pieces by an old rhinoceros like that, In a field 
of swedes. My difficulty was to find an excuse: 
for the other men’s refusals—and his own knowl¬ 
edge, perhaps, or why they wouldn't come- had 
made Slowcombe “touchy,”and when 1 had hint¬ 
ed t hat 1 couldn't bo quite sure of being with Him 
on the first, he had made an allusion to tlio little 
matter of business between us, which I felt to be 
equivalent to "play or pay”—Come to I’lowshlre 
(for he lived among tho clodhoppers) or settle my 
account. 
was, everything was precipitated, Including the 
compulsory payment of my debt to Slowcombe. 
It was altogether a miserable fiasco; and when I 
bear fellows talking about the splendid results of 
civilization, and “Book at the electric telegraph, 
for example!” and “the corps of commission- i 
alres'” I say to mysolf-but never mind what 
I say. 1 have told It enough to make It, under¬ 
stood why I should not agree with them. 
THE DARKEST HOUR. 
BY SABAH J WADHAMB. 
THRILLING SCENE. 
At last I hit, upon a plan. He knew that I was 
connected with the Great Butter Company, and 
i had often sounded me as to Its prospects; but. T 
could never persuade him to Invest In it. “ If it’s 
such tv real good thing, you had better stick to it 
yourself, Martingale, and let nobody else in.” I 
, didn't like the remark about, letting people In; 
hut I was not In a position to quarrel with Slow- 
combe. He parted from me on the lust day but 
one of September, telling me he wanted twenty- 
four hours to get his guns ready, and imprcftlmr 
upon mo t,he best train by which to start for Plow- 
shlre on the morrow. Tkoncxtmor ning (theroth) 
I wrote 1dm this letter from tho Club; 
Mv Dear slowcombe:— i am exceedingly sorrr 
t/j disappoint, you—and still more so to disappoint 
my salt -hut J regret to say that my proposed visit 
to you has been knocked on the head. The tn- 
clOHed telegram will explain lrself. Nothing but 
the most, urgent business would have prevented 
my keeping my engagement, and I feel confident,, 
from the Ideas you ha ve often expressed to me 
respect ing the necessity of attending strictly to 
the ft. B < . I need no further apology for my ab¬ 
sence. You will, iloubUetH, have many another 
gun with you, and If the phrase or “ the more the 
merrier” can be applied to phcasani-shootlng. 
that, of “the fewer the better cheer,” Js certainly 
still more to the purpose. A fuller bag will i 
hope, compensate for the absence of yours, most 
faithfully, Makmadcxb Martingale. 
Then leaving the envelope open I proceeded to 
concoct the telegram: 
From the Secretary of tho Great Butter Com¬ 
pany, (Limited,) Cornldll, to Martnuduko Marlln- 
gulc, Esq., Military, Naval and Militia Club, Ball 
Mall:-Defalcations have been discovered In the 
company's accounts, lam therefore compelled 
tosmnrnon an extraordinary meeting of the Board 
of Directors for Wednesday next, when your pres¬ 
ence will be indispensable. 
The following incident occurred during a gen¬ 
eral review of the Austrian cavalry a few months 
ago. Not far from 80,000 cavalry were In line. 
A Uttle child—a girl of not more than feur years, 
standing In the front row of spectators, either 
from fright or some other cause, rushed out Into 
tho open field Just aa a squadron of hussars came 
sweeping around from themalnbody. Theymade 
the detour for the purpose of saluting tho Em¬ 
press, whose carriage was drawn up In that part 
of the parude' ground. Down came the flying 
squadron, charging at a mad gallop—down di¬ 
rectly upon the child. The mother was paralyz¬ 
ed, as were others, for there could be no rescue 
from the line of spectators. 
The Empress uttered a cry of horror, for the 
child’s destruction seemed Inevitable—and such 
terrible destruction—the trampling to death by a 
thousand iron hoofs. Directly under tho feet of 
the horses was tho little one—another Instant 
must seal Its doom—when a stalwart, hussar, who 
was In the front line, without slacken 1 1 a; his speed 
or loosening his hold, threw himself over hy the 
Side of his hone's neck, seized and lifted tbeohUd 
and placed It iu safety upon Ids saddle-bow ; and 
this he did without, changing his pace or breaking 
the correct alignment of tho squadron. 
Ten thousand voices hailed with rapturous ap¬ 
plause the gallant deed, and other thousands ap¬ 
plauded when they knew. Two women there wore 
who could only sob forth their gratitude in broken 
accents—tho mother and the Empress. And a 
proud and happy moment must It have been for 
the hussar when Ills Emperor, taking from his 
own breast the richly enamelled Cross of the 
Order of Marla Theresa, hung it upon the breast 
of his brave and gallant trooper .—Lomlon stand¬ 
ard. 
’Tis dark and dreary ivaltins- 
For the night, to pass aws\, 
But they tell me It ia ever 
Darkest, just at dams of day. 
But the croea it seems bo heavy, 
Anri Gor/s ways so dark to me, 
Thnt Pro grown weary waiting 
The dawning l>ri/:ht to see. 
Oh, must it grow much darker 
Ere tho coming of the light ? 
Will the bright, bright star of morning 
Ever show its promised fight ? 
Some stars the darkness showed us. 
But (be r U»hl soon passed away, 
And tlie darkness groweth deeper,— 
Surely it must soon be day. 
A quiet sU alclh o’er me, 
For I feel that mom is niich; 
Though all earth’s paths err dreary. 
There is light for us on high. 
For bright Con’s radiant sunshine 
To mourning hearts is riven; 
And we shall know no sorrow, 
For there’s no night in Heaven. 
OIL YOURSELF A LITTLE. 
OUR FEATHERY BEAUTIES. 
J gave this eompo.slt.loa to the Club commission¬ 
aire—tin active, intelligent rcllow whom I had 
often employed—and sent, lilm off to the nearest 
telegraph office. I c alculated that it would return 
to me—In telegraphic form—In about, a quarter of 
an hour at furl best. But as It happened, It did 
not. T had an engagement for that aflornoo.o m, 
Jlurllnghum. and was obliged to leave the Club 
before t he arrival of the expected document- How¬ 
ever, as 1 knew it, must come, and could place the 
utmost confidence In the porter, I left my letter 
with him, Instructing him lb place the telegram 
Inside It us soon as It came to hand, and then to 
post It. 
The next morning I found upon Inquiry that 
this had been done, and thought no more about 
t.he’matter. The day alter a note, as T had ex- 
poctcd, arrived from Slowcombe, the contents of 
which, however, 1 did not expect: 
Sir:— I am astonished that you should have the 
assurance to pend me that telegram from your 
place of business. If you lrriaglno because your 
Secretary has “bolted,” arid the “blessed con¬ 
cern.” (as your friend terms what i had under¬ 
stood from you to be a sound commercial associa¬ 
tion.) has “ burst up,” that I shall not bo disposed 
to pn-.-.r, for my hundred pounds, you are very 
much mistaken. I havu placed the matter In the 
bands of my solicitor, and remain, yours obe¬ 
diently, Thomas BlowcoHbe. 
Had 1 taken leave of my own senses, or had 
Slowcombe taken leave of his ? “ Bolted ?’’ “ burst 
tip?” “blessedconcern?" No such words, I am 
sure, hud ever been contained In my telegram. 
What on earth did It all mean ? I (lid a thing 
which 1 had never done before, except upon the 
first Monday in every month—1 hurried to our 
place of business in the city as fast as a hansom 
could take me, and found the shutters up. The 
office of the G. B. c. was closed—Just as though 
the company had been dafunct,. Upstairs, how¬ 
ever, I round the Chairman looking at, n heap of 
bills and gnawing his mustache. 
“This 1b a pretty piece of work, Capt. Martin¬ 
gale,” said he, “ and we have to thank you for It.” 
“ To thank me ?" cried I. “ What do you mean ? 
is everybody gone mad ? I have done nothing- 
nothing." 
“Perhapsyou didn’t send a telegram to our 
Secretary about * defalcations!' Here It is.” 
And he tossed me over the message I bad sent 
from the Secretary to myself—transposed. That 
respectable and intelligent commissionaire had. 
It seemed, taken It for granted that I had made a 
mistake in sending a telegram to myself, and sub¬ 
stituted the word “from” for “ to,” and “to” for 
“ from." He thought, doubtless, he was doing a 
very clever thing, and one for which I should be 
much Indebted to him. 
The secretary really had, It seems, “ defalcat¬ 
ed” m a small way. and getting my telegTam (In¬ 
stead of my getting his), he thought all was dis¬ 
covered' so laid his hands on everything he could 
and decamped. It w as the Chairman himself who 
had wired the news to me In that familiar style, 
which had so Incensed Slowcombe. 
“Our Secretary has bolted, and the blessed con¬ 
cern bus buret up.” 
The Great Butter Company, In fact, was no¬ 
where, thanks to my Uttle device for avoiding 
pheasant-shooting. The Secretary would proba¬ 
bly never have lied, but only have gone on defal¬ 
cating slowly but for my alarming message; as It | 
(See Illustration, paRe 45.] 
Comparatively few people fully appreciate 
birds, and this Is especially true in the rural dis¬ 
tricts, where they are most common and least, 
thought of. Yet., to watch and loam the habits of 
these little feathery beauties, is one of the most 
dcUghtful occupations at which a few leisure 
hours can be spent- In tho spring of the year, 
when the leaves arc bursting forth and the gram 
beginning to show a rich green, these Uttle warb¬ 
lers are seen making their preparations for the 
f ummer-hoiiso or nest In which t hey rear their 
young. Piece by piece are t he bits or stick, moss, 
thread and leaveH gathered and woven together 
until, toy patience and perseverance, a complete 
nest, makes Its appearance. During the progress 
of the work which sometimes lasts weeks—no one 
is so industrious as they ; but always with a song, 
merry and cheerful. When one rises eariy of a 
spring or summer morning and, In the balmy air, 
hears the caroling of these beauties, the effect 
cannot, but be cheering and pleasant, nor can It 
fall to elevate one and bring one nearer to the 
Giver of all these beautiful things. 
Thebe Is true humor In the following story; 
Once upon a time there lived an old gentleman in 
a large house. He had servants and everything 
lie wanted, yet he was not happy, and when 
things did not go aa he wished, he was very cross. 
At last his servants left him. Quito out of tem¬ 
per, he went to a neighbor with a story of dis¬ 
tress. 
“It seems to me,”said the neighbor, sagacious¬ 
ly, “’twould be well for you to oil yourself a 
little." 
“ To oil myself?" 
“Yes; and 1 will explain, some time ago one 
of the doors In my house creaked. Nobody there- 
fore Ukcd to go in or out by It. One day I oiled Its 
hinges, and It has been constantly used by every¬ 
body ever since.” 
“ Then you think I am like the creaking door," 
cried the old gentleman. “ How do you want me 
to oil myself 7” 
“ That’s an easy matter,” said the neighbor. 
“Go home and engage a servant, and when he 
does right, praise him. If, on the contrary lie 
does something amiss, do not bo cross; oil your 
VBlce and words with t he oil of love." 
The old gentleman went home, ana no harsh or 
ugly words were ever heard In the house after¬ 
wards. Every family Bhould have a bottle of this 
precious oil, for overy family Is liable to have a 
creaktng hlngo In the shape of a fretful disposl- 
t Ion, a cross temper, a harsh tone, or a fault-find¬ 
ing spirit. 
THE SILVER BELLS. 
CHINESE MAXIMS. 
- Tjie finest roads do not go far. 
The most timid girt has courage enough to talk 
scandal. 
He who lets things be given to him Is not good 
at taking. , 
The tongues of women Increase by all that they 
take from their feet. 
The dog In tho kennel barks at his fleas, but the 
dog who Is hunting does not feel them. 
®|f Citfnirij (itorli. 
COMING EVENTS. 
The American Naturalist for January com¬ 
mences the eleventh voi umc of this excellent pop¬ 
ular magazine of natural history and travel, and 
presents as usual a varied and attractive table of 
contents. Mr. Alfred VV. Bennett, the eminent 
English botanist, leads off with a discussion of 
the question whether Protective Mimicry 13 due 
to Natural Selection; and \v, H. Dali contributes 
a paper on the Educated Fleas, which have re¬ 
cently excited so much interest in New York and 
Boston. He maintains that the fleas are not “ ed¬ 
ucated.” I. C. Russell gives an Interesting de¬ 
scription of the Giant Birds of New Zealand, and 
Dr. A. S. Packard, Jr., describes the Migrations of 
the Destructive Locust of the West. There Is also 
an Illustrated article on the Aboriginal Money of 
California, by Lorenzo G. Yates; and the number 
furt her contains reviews of recent scientific books, 
notes on botany, zoology, anthropology, geology 
and paticontology, geography and exploration 
and microscopy, besides recent scientific news, a 
synops!3 ol the proceedings of learned societies, 
and a digest of the contents of scientific serials. 
This simple summary will suffice to show the 
range and variety of the subjects treated In the 
Naturalist, which is now published hy H. O. 
Houghton & Co., Boston. Terms, $4 a year. 
In Eastern poetry they tell of a wondrous tree, 
on which grew golden apples and sliver bells; 
and every time the breeze went by and tossed the 
fragrant, branches, a shower of these golden 
apples fell, and the living bells chimed and 
tinkled forth their airy ravishment. On the gos¬ 
pel tree 1 here grow melodious blossoms; sweeter 
bells than t hose which mingle with the pomegran¬ 
ates on Aaron's vest; holy feelings, heaven- 
taught Joys; oud when the wind bloweth where 
he llsteth, the south wind waking, whemho Holy 
Spirit breathes upon that soul, there ts the shak¬ 
ing down of mellow fruits, and the Oowof healthy 
odors all around, and the gush of sweetest music 
where gentle tones and Joyful ecliolngs are wafted 
through the recesses of the soul Not easily ex¬ 
plained to others, and too ethereal to define, these 
Joys are, on that account, but t he more dellghtfuL 
The sweet sense of forgiveness; the conscious ex¬ 
ercise of alt tho devout affections, and the grate¬ 
ful and adoring emotions Godward; the lull of 
Elnful passions, Itself ecstatltlc tousle; an exult¬ 
ing sense of tho weU-ordered covenant; the glad¬ 
ness of surety, righteousness, and the kind spirit 
of adoption, encouraging to say, “Abba, Father;” 
all the delightful feelings which the Spirit of God 
Increases or creates, and which are summed up 
In that comprehensive phrase, " Joy in the Holy 
Ghost.”— Dr. James Hamilton. 
Thebe ts a charm of eye and lip which comes 
with every little phrase, that certifies delicate 
pcrceptlo* of fine'judgment, with every unosten¬ 
tatious word or smile that shows a heart awake 
toothers; and no sweep of garment or turn of 
figure Is more satisfying than that which enters 
a restoration of confidence that one Is present on 
whom no intention will be lost. 
Vb do not harm by looking forward to pleasure, 
to joy—always keeping ourselves in check, so that 
we do not become softened by our hopes; but we 
are miserably silly when we lose the gladness of 
tbe present lor the possible sorrow of the future, 
when we anticipate pains that may never come, 
and distress that has no existence outside our 
own morbid fears. 
Five Rules for Reading the Bible.— l. Read it 
—read it all—read It often. 2. Search It. 3. Re¬ 
member It, 4. Love It. 5. Pray over It. 
