46 
THE RURAL 
JULY %{ 
as if by magic. A thousand lamps from the dif¬ 
ferent. hotels, some shining through colored glass¬ 
es, give suggestions of fairy land, to which music 
adds its enchantment. 
one visit is not sulllclent to satisfy us. We have 
not had time to visit the aquarium, the most com¬ 
plete and extensive in the country, (that in New 
York alone excepted,) the seaside home for chil¬ 
dren, where, under the direction of the children’s 
Aid Society, sick children of the poor are given an 
opportunity to recover by the aid of salt water 
baths, good food, and exercise In pure air, nor 
many other points of Interest. 
Honor to whom honor is due. The credit of rais¬ 
ing Coney Island from Inslgniilcance to its pres¬ 
ent position, belongs to Mr. Andkkw T. Culver 
of Brooklyn. Ills foresight, business enterprise 
ami energy resulted In the building of the Pros¬ 
pect Park and Coney Island lfallroad, and In the 
furnish ingot suitable accommodations for Its pas¬ 
sengers at the island terminus. Over this road 
run more than sixty trains dally, orten carrying 
more than ton thousand passengers In & day: and 
with such care Is It conducted, that notwithstand¬ 
ing millions have been transported over It. since 
Its completion, there has been not a single acci¬ 
dent to life or limb. 
$Ijf JStotD-®rllcr, 
MAKING UP. 
“ 1 hate ’em !” 
“Singular!” 
“ J don’t think II, singular.” 
Fred Tracy lit his cigar over again, and resum¬ 
ed his favorite recumbent attitude. Ills friend, 
Harry Blake, kept on whittling, now and thon 
casting wondering glances at this handsome wo¬ 
man hater. After a moment’s silence, Harry re¬ 
marked : 
“ How any man can dislike women, is more 
than 1 can tell.” 
“Bah!’’ Interrupted Fred; “you forget that I 
had a step-mother, and—” 
“Was Jilted?” 
“No, sir!"—this with emphasis—“no woman 
ever Jilted me,” 
“But what about your engagement with Sue 
Osmond? Something happened. Whose fault 
was it—yours or hers?” 
“ If you want to know, I'll tell you, and leave 
you to judge whose rault It was. That girl ran 
away with every bit of sense I had, for a brief 
period—only a brier period. 1 woke up one night 
to a realization or what a Tool 1 had been. Of 
course, every fellow who is engaged to a girl sup¬ 
poses he has won perfection. 1 did.” 
“A very foolish thing to suppose, to begin 
with.” 
“Pshaw! You don’t, know what you are talk¬ 
ing about,. For about six weeks after our engage¬ 
ment everything was lovely. She was pretty, 
fascinating, deucodly Intelligent and accomplish¬ 
ed ; and 1 spared no pains to take her everywhere 
she wanted to go. My team was kept pretty busy 
in those days, 1 can tell you. sue couldn’t ride in 
a hired coach; and as for the cars or stage, why, 
hlessyour heart! I should never have dreamed, 
in any emergency, ot suggesting either.” 
“ Do you mean to tell me that sue Osmond Is 
such a fool as that?” 
“ She never said anything about the way she 
Should go; but, don’t you see, I made such an 
Idol of her that 1 couldn’t bear to feel tor a mo¬ 
ment that she had stepped outside or her own 
speol.il sphere?” 
“ Fiddlesticks!” 
“ All right. Fall In love yourself and then see! 
Well, this was my manner of treating her. Oue 
evening last winter, 1 was returning from the 
oilice. it was about seven o'clock, and It never 
rained harder since the deluge. It was a cold, 
slippery, Uorrlblo night,, and Jim Hawkins and 1 
walked straight through the crowded boat, and 
stood outside under ineawnlug. There weren't 
but two or three there besides us. I noticed a 
woman leaning against the opposite side or the 
window, i saw that she bad on an old waterproof 
cloak, and the hood was drawn over her hat. 
Finally, alter considerable squinting at the figure 
and side face of the woman, Jim said, with a 
nudge: 
“ Don’t you know who that Is, Fred ?” 
“ How the mischief should T know ?” 1 asked. 
“You ought to, If anybody. Take a good look, 
now.” 
.Tust then the boat touched the dock. I looked, 
and as sure as I live, there stood sue Osmond, my 
ladyl >ve. She drew the hood closer over her face, 
and while [ was deciding what to do, the chain 
was lowered, and sue was lost among the crowd. 
'• The man who hesitates,” you know. 
Yes, I know all about It. An hour after, I called 
Oh Miss Osmond. She was dressed, ready to re¬ 
ceive me. i never saw her eyes so bright, there 
was an indell liable glitter all over her, aud her 
manner was fascinating to the last degree. After 
a while, said I: 
“Sue, 1 could have sworu an hour ago that 1 
saw you on a ferryboat!" 
“Could you?" sbe laughed, without changing 
color. “ Never swoar to personal Identity. I knew 
a man who got into a horrid scrape once by doing 
so.” 
“ Well, It wasn't you, was It Sue ?” I asked. 
“llow ridiculous 1” she answered; aud then, 
with a most unusual touch of defiance in her man¬ 
ner, “ suppose It was—what then ?” 
“Nothing much,”said I, “only good-by, Miss 
Osmond!” 
“ Truly ?” said sbe, in the calmest possible man¬ 
ner. 
“Yes, truly,” I answered, “unless you can ac¬ 
count satisfactorily for conduct so questionable." 
“So what?” she asked, growing as white as 
death. 
“So questionable," I repeated. 
She rose In a white heat. This Is what she 
said : 
“ About seven o’clock this evening I crossed the 
ferry from New York to Brooklyn ; and 1 refuse 
to give any account ot the circumstances which 
made such unquestionable conduct necessary. 
So good-by, Mr. Tracy.” 
“ What then?” inquired Harry. 
“ Why, she swept out of t he room like a tragedy 
queen, and 1 haven't spoken to her since.” 
Three weeks after. Same room, same company. 
“Poor Will Osmond has gone,” said llany 
IUake. 
“The deuce he has?” replied Fred Tracy. 
“ Yes. I was over there this afternoon, and had 
a talk with his widow. Will’s health fulled Im¬ 
mediately oiler his marriage, and bis father was 
so angry with him for marrying his daughter’s 
governess, that he would not do the least thing 
for him. Mrs. Osmond said that If it Had not 
been for Sue they would have certainly starved. 
She pawned and sold most of her Jewelry, and 
managed so skillfully that Will was surrounded 
with every comfort. I found out something, 
Fred.” 
“ What was It V” 
“Do you remember the date of the night you 
saw Miss Osmond on the ferryboat? Was It the 
third of December ?” 
“ Yes, sir.” 
“ Well, that day .Sue spent with her brother. 
He was a great deal worse, and she was de¬ 
termined, come what would, she would not leave 
Him until he was easier. He grew more com¬ 
fortable, and when she got ready to start tor 
home It rained hard. So she borrowed her sister's 
waterproof aud hurried off. .Now, what do you 
think 7” 
“That I was a brute, aud I’ll make It. up this 
very day.” 
Evening. SceneParlor In the bouse of Os¬ 
mond. Sue Osmond In the library, alone. Fred 
Tracy is announced. 
“Good evening, Mr. Tracy;" and Sue extends a 
very steady little hand to her visitor. 
“ I have Just heard to-day ol your brother’s 
death, Miss—Osmond—and-and 
Fred Tracy was never known to stammer, but 
now the English language failed him. 
“ Will had been ill several months,” was the 
calm answer. 
“And to think," said Fred, almost sobbing, 
“ that 1 should have been such a brute! I found 
out all about It to-day! l wonder If you can ever 
forgive me ?“ 
“Certainly," replied Sue. “I forgave you a 
long time ago." 
“Angel!" whispered Fred. “How can 1 ever 
be thankful enough.” 
The hands he tried to seize were withdrawn as 
she replied; 
“By remembering, Mr. Tracy, that no woman 
worth having will endure the high and lofty 
treatment you attempted with mu! and that 
where there la true love, there Is true conlldence!” 
“ Sue, dear Sue, what do you meau ? Why are 
you so cold ?" 
“Mr. Blake!” announced a servant. 
“Good evening, Fred," cried Harry, cordially 7 . 
“ And how's my little Sue ?" 
“ Very well, thank you,” cried Sue, lovingly. 
“This, Mr. Tracy,” she continued, with a deep 
blush, “is my Intended husband.” 
“ How long has this been ?” Inquired poor Fred. 
“About three months,” replied Blake, non- 
chantly. 
“ .And you allowed me to come around here and 
make a fool of myself in tills manner ?” 
“ What manner? 1 was delighted that you and 
my Sue were going to make up and be good 
friends again.” 
Before Harry had concluded his sentence Fred 
was gone. 
The hall door shut with a bang, and the lovers 
were alone. 
■--- 
THRILLING ANECDOTE OF THE ELDER 
BOOTH. 
One evening, when the cider Booth was playing 
Richard 111. tu a Baltimore theatre, in his mad¬ 
dest mood, and just as the second act was about 
to commence, a messenger, covered with dust, 
rushed behind the stage, and, before he could he 
stopped, was In conversation with the tragedian. 
“What!" said Bouth, as he pressed his long 
Angers on Ids broad, white temples, as though he 
had ti led to clutch the brain beneat h, “ Dead, say 
you? My poor little child—my loved, my beauti¬ 
ful one!" 
And then, seeing the curtain rise, he rushed 
on. The scone between Aune and Glosier was 
never bettor played. The actor gave the words 
of the bard with thrilling effect, but there was a 
strangeness about his m inner that told his mind 
was not upon his character. Still, the multitude 
applauded till the old roof rang again, and those 
behind the scenes stood breathless with eager de¬ 
light. The third act came out, but Booth was 
nowhere to be found, * * * It was a bitter 
cold night, and a farmer, as he drove Ills wagon 
to market, was startled from his reverie as he 
saw a horseman, wrapped in a large cloak (and It 
opened and displayed a glittering dress beneath), 
ride rapidly past hi in, 
it was Booth lu his Richard HI. costume! Mad¬ 
ness had seized him, and regardless of every¬ 
thing, at the still hour of midnight, he was going 
to pay a visit to his dead child. Drawing his 
flashing sword and throwing his Jeweled cap from 
his head, he lashed his horse’s flanks with the 
bare weapon until the animal snorted In pain. 
The tall, dark trees on each side ot him touched 
his healed brow with their silver-frosted branch¬ 
es, and, tblnktug they were men in pursuit, the 
mad actor cut at them with ills sword and cursed 
them as he flew rapidly by. At last, after a fierce 
ride of two hours, the horseman came In sight of 
a country graveyard, and, as he saw the white 
tops of the monument peeping through the dark 
foliage, like snowy crests upon the bosom of dark 
billows, he raised a shout wild enough to have 
scared the ghosts from their graves. II© dis¬ 
mounted, aud away sped the riderless horse over 
hill and dale. 
It was but tho work of a moment (and the In¬ 
sane are cunning beyond all Imagining) to wrench 
the wooden door from the vault containing the 
body of his child. He seized the tiny coflln la his 
arms, and. with the strong arm of a desperate 
man, lie tore open tho ltd, and In a moment more 
the cold, blue lips of the dead child wore glued to 
the mad actor’s! The next morning some mem¬ 
ber of the tragedian's family heard a wild st.aln 
of laughter that appeared to come from his bed¬ 
room. The door was forced open, and Booth was 
discovered on ills bed, gibbering In Idiotic mad¬ 
ness and caressing the corpse ot his ill tie one. 
- 
WORD HISTORIES. 
Few realize the great slgnlflcance of a word. 
Some words there are which In themselves crys¬ 
tallize history; and to unfold arid elaborate tlielr 
original meaning, as well as lo trace their modifi¬ 
cations, gives the student an insight Into man¬ 
ners and customs whlehleave an Indelible Impres¬ 
sion on his mind. 
A simple word will often afford an Insight Into 
the social condition of a people, that volumes 
written for the purpose wUl hardly attain. There 
Is Idiot, for example. It Is a Greek word, and was 
characteristic of Greek life. An Idiot meant, orig¬ 
inally a private man, or a man distinguished from 
one who groaned (!) under the emoluments of 
public life. It was sometimes so employed In En¬ 
glish. Jkhkuy Taylor wrote, " Humility Is a 
duty In great one*, as well as In idiots.” 
Then It, came to mean au lguorunt, person, a 
boor. The Greeks held that public life was the 
test of intellect, and necessarily those who did 
not attain to It were Inferior. We have come to 
use the word lu its sense of Inferiority. When a 
man descends even lower and slides from au Idiot 
Into &ii “ IJlt,” that means, 1 suppose, that Ills 
clouded mental organization doesn’t quite rise to 
the level of a dashed fool. 
How Interesting It is to trace the words which 
nations have been obliged to borrow from their 
neighbors, not hiving a home-made article to ex¬ 
press the thing borrowed. Thus our word Club, 
has been appropriated In France and Germany to 
explain an Institution that they have adopted 
from the Anglo-Saxon people, showing that the 
Institution ltselr waa a graft on the national char¬ 
acteristics, In no country where there wus not 
personal freedom, could the Idea of a club ror so¬ 
cial or political ends exist, more especially would 
It be a fuugus growth under “ paternal” govern¬ 
ments, where freedom with moderation aud self- 
restrictions would be as unlooked-for as peaches 
In January. c. h. b. 
-- 
ANIMALS’ TAILS. 
Theke Is a good deal of expression In tails. A 
cat, when unexcited, has her tall bent toward t he 
ground and quiet, but when the animal Is under 
lively emotion, the tall shows movements which 
are not or chance character, but predetermined 
by nature—such and such an emotion causing 
such and such a movement,. When the cat feels 
afraid when seized, for Instance, by the neck, the 
tall goes down between her legs, on sight ot an 
agreeable morsel or meat, the tall goes straight 
up. When angry, the cat bends her tall luto two 
curves of opposite directions—the greater curve 
at the base, the lesser at the extremity—while 
tho fur is erect throughout. When on the alert 
for prey, she lashes her tall from side to side, on 
the other hand, the dog wags his tall to test ify 
Joy, while (as with t he cal) fear sends it down be¬ 
tween Ms legs. We are all familiar with the 
comical appearance or a herd ot cattle, driven to 
despair by insects, rushing about a Held on a hoc 
day, with their tufted tails erect as posts. Dr. 
John Brown, in one of his racy sketches, tolls of 
a dog of his whose tall had a peculiar kind of ex¬ 
pressiveness. This tall of Toby was “a tail pnr 
ar ; it was of immense girth, and not short, equal 
throughout like a policeman’s baton; the machin¬ 
ery for working it was of immense power, and 
acted lu a way, so far as l have been able to dis¬ 
cover, quite original. We called It his ruler. 
When he wished to get Into the house, he first 
whined gently, then growled, then gave a sharp 
bark, and then came a resounding, mighty stroke 
which shook the house. This, after much study 
and watching, we found was done by his bring¬ 
ing the entire length or his solid tall flat upon the 
door with a suddeu and vigorous stroke, it was 
quite a tour dr force or a wujj etc queue, and he 
was perfect in at once, his lirst bang authorita¬ 
tive having been as masterly and telling as his 
last.” 
A CHIROPODIST’S CARD. 
A San Francisco corn doctor was summoued 
by a man wbo lived tour miles out of the oily. 
Hastily gathering up his ease of instruments, flies, 
and acids, he walked through the pouring rain to 
the address Indicated, and was shown Into the 
parlor. The physician sent up his card and shortly 
after the door opened, arid a florid man, with un¬ 
steady legs, entered the apartment. “Howdo, 
Doc ? Take a seat. Didn’t think you’d come out 
In this rain, but you're a regular brick, and I knew 
It when I read your card, I wish you’d come and 
live out here. The whole neighborhood are a set 
of darned teetotalers.” 
The practitioner opened his case ot Instruments 
and asked Ills patient to put up his foot on a chair. 
The man assented, remarking that he never felt 
more comfortable in bis life. He resented, how¬ 
ever, all efforts of the doctor to pull off his socks, 
and threatened to shoot, him for attempting to 
haul his booto off. 
“How can I treat you unless I see your corns?” 
cried the chiropodist. 
“ Corns bo blowed!’’ answered the dweller In 
the suburbs. 
“1 ain’t got no corns! Don't your card say, 
‘Gentlemen treated at their own residence?’ and 
I sent, for you because I am our, of liquor, aud I 
want some brandy pretty darned quick.” 
There was a cry or anguish as the doctor took 
his largest flic and rubbed all the skin off his pa¬ 
tient’s nose. 
--- 
AN INCIDENT OF THE LATE WAR. 
The N. Y. Tribune Is responsible for this anec¬ 
dote:—At the battles of Antletam and South 
Mountain a Colonel was wounded Ills arm fear- 
rully shattered—and lie was borne from the field 
by Jils brothers and a private soldier. They car¬ 
ried him across the count ry a long and toilsome 
distance, every stop of wldch was torture to the 
sufferer, to the house of a Maryland Union farmer. 
Then came the ubiquitous Yankee surgeon with 
his glittering knives and cruel saws, and made 
hasty preparations to amputate the ailing mem¬ 
ber. The farmer vehemently protested, declaring 
that the man would die If the arm waa cut off. 
The Surgeon Insisted that the patient would die 
If the arm was not taken off, aud the Colonel’s 
brother's coincided with the surgeon. But the 
determlued old farmer dispatched bis son on his 
fleetest horse across the fields to the ot her side of 
tho mountain arter his friend and neighbor, a 
country physician, and a rank rebel. When tho 
rustic Esculaplus arrived there ensued a long 
contention with the Yankee hewer of boues over 
the sufferer, but the result, was that the arm was 
saved, and after some weeks or careful nursing, 
the colonel galloped off to Join his regiment, a 
comparatively sound man. He subsequently be¬ 
came Governor ot uhto, and now nils the Presi¬ 
dential chair. 
■ » *■*- - 
THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT. 
Tittmi crushed to earth will rise again. At last 
we arc vindicated, It Is Just what we said months 
sgo about, the Washington monument, only we 
couldn't express It as dearly and briefly as the 
engineers who have just examined It. Their opin¬ 
ion is that the overthrowing effort of the wind Is 
er square <:t(T plus vs) divided by «, aud the weight 
of the f rostrum Is vs [(o sq uare plus an.r —e square) 
plus one-third a square s square ] Now if Y sub 
one Is the distance from the axis of the shaft to 
the line of resistance, then «x square (3« plus ns) 
divided by 6, equals vs ((n square plus anx—e 
square) plus one-third n square x square) Y sub 
oue. 8o, of course, the thing couldn’t stand, as 
every one can now see. But further, sixteen feet 
below level of foundation (under water), 100 vol¬ 
umes of soil contain sc. 7 volumes of sand, of which 
18.8 volumes are voids, leaving is.it volumes ot 
clay in excess of voids In the sand. So, if it was 
not blown down, it must have lipped over some 
calm summer morning after a shower, to the cer¬ 
tain detriment of spectators on the Upward side. 
We hope our word will not be doubted again. 
♦♦♦- 
A BLACK HILLS CHARACTER. 
“Calamity jane" Is a Black Hills character 
who reminds one strongly of Bret Ilarte's hero¬ 
ines. As she sits astride her horse, there la noth¬ 
ing lu her at tiro to distinguish her sex save her 
small, neat-flttlng gaiters aud sweeping raven 
locks. 8he wears buckskin clothes, gaily beaded 
and fringed, and a broad-brimmed Spanish hat. 
She comes trom Virginia City, Nev., of a family 
of respectability and Intelligence. Donning male 
attire In the mining regions, where no restraints 
were Imposed for such freaks, sho "took the 
road,” and has ever since been nomadic In her 
habits—now one of a bunting party, then in a 
mining stampede, again moving with a freight 
train, and It Is said she has rendered service as a 
scout. She has had experience as a stage-driver, 
and cau draw the reins over six horses. She 
handles her revolver with dexterity, and tires It 
as accurately as a ranger. She is still In early 
womanhood, and her rough and dissipated career 
has not altogether “ swept away the lines where 
beauty lingers.” 
®|c iCitcranj IRorlir. 
BOOKS RECEIVED. 
From T. B. Peterson & Brothers. Plxlla., Pa.: 
Saratoga; an Indian Tale ot Froutler Life In 
1787. (Black and gold.—pp. -too.) Price $1. 
Okanoe June Co., New York: 
Swine Husbandly 7 . By F. 1). Coburn. (Cloth. 
—pp. U75.) Price $ 1 . 75 . 
Estes &, Laukiat, Boston: 
Cobweb series of Fiction.—First I.ove Is Best. 
By Gall Hamilton. (Cloth; toned paper.— 
pp. 305.) Price $1.50. 
L*. 
