Hea&tng for tljf goimg. 
DARLING’S QUESTION. 
“ Where does the Old Year fro, mamma, 
When it has passed away ? 
It was a Rood Old Year, 
I wish that it eonld stay. 
It (rave us spring and summer, 
The Winter and the fail; 
It brought us baby sister, 
And that was best of all. 
Where does the Old Year go, mamma ? 
I cannot understand ” 
“ My love, it goes to join the years 
Safe folded ill Gotl'a hand.” 
From where will come the New Year, 
When the good Old Year is dead r 
Now all my birds and all my flowers 
With the Old Year have fled, 
I do uot think that I shall love 
This now Ne v Year at all.” 
“ Yes, dear. It too will bring the spring, 
The summer and the fall.” 
" Where will it come from, mamma ? 
I do not understand.” 
“ It comes from where all coming years 
Are hidden in God's hand. 
[Scott Campbell. 
POOR KA T E. 
BARBARA SEMPLE. 
A more plain-looking little girl ceuld scarcely 
have been seen than the orphan niece of the nig¬ 
gardly Mrs. Scatterby. ner complexion was of 
that sort whtch never looks clean, her mouth was 
uuusually large, and she had a great quantity of 
dry sandy-colored hair of so umnanagable a char¬ 
acter that it would have required the dally care 
of a skillful hair-dresser to make It presentable. 
Kate was clumsy In person too, and her natural 
ungalnllness was further increased by the oddity 
of her dress, which consisted of Mrs. Seat baby's 
cast-off gowns. These garments were altered to 
lit the little girt, it is true; but the fashion In 
which they had been originally made was re¬ 
tained, It being too groat a trouble to alter them 
In that respect. Thus attired, Kate usually pre¬ 
sented so ridiculous an appearance that it was no 
uncommon thing for her to be followed by a 
crowd of street boys who mocked her, and even 
at times threw stones ar, her. Ho timid was the 
little girl, that she had not even the spirit or the 
proverbial worm that ts said to turn on Us op¬ 
pression. At home Kate was a domestic drudge. 
She was not pretty enough, tor the parlor, and not 
clever enough for anything but the commonest 
work, her aunt said. Aud indeed every one 
thought Her stupid, because she was crushed In 
spirit and did not dire to call her soul her own, 
as the phrase is. All, well, what matter whether 
she dared call It her own or not, so long as It was 
her own i 
Mrs. Scatterby occupied the second floor of a 
house, and the kitchen In which her despised 
niece spent many hoars of the day overlooked a 
pretty garden. Here she frequently saw a deli¬ 
cate child carried in the arms of his father. When 
she opened the window she could hear the gentle¬ 
man talking lovingly to his lit tle boy. Occasion¬ 
ally he would put him down to look at the flow¬ 
ers. If the little fellow smiled, his father’s face 
brightened ; If he coughed or moaned, a look or 
tenderesl pity overspread the face of the fond 
parent. Other children this gentleman had, and 
to all he was an affectionate father; but none 
seemed so dear to him as the little ailing boy. To 
watch Mils parent and child constituted the 
greatest pleasure and perhaps also the greatest 
pain of Kate’s life. She had no remembrance 
of her parents, nor indeed of any one who had 
ever loved her. Bhe had no recollection of .ever 
having been kissed. Love was to her a mystery. 
All dusty and begrimed as she was, she looked 
down Into the beautiful garden at the father and 
child till a great yearning tor an affection she had 
never known made her cry as If her heart would 
break. Then at, night, when the shutters were 
closed and the .gas was lit, Kate would la im¬ 
agination put herself in t lie t tie sick boy’s place 
and fancy that she was encircled In the arms of a 
loving father. Oh, how willingly would she have 
borne any pain tor such sweet solace as th it,. 
Usually It was Katie's part to remain at home 
on Sunday morning and make the dinner for her 
aunt, who always kept up appearances bygolug 
to church. One Sunday morning, however, u 
slight indisposition rendered her unable or un¬ 
willing to observe her usual custom; so she de¬ 
cided to remain at home, and sent Kate In¬ 
stead. In her usual subdued cheerless manner 
the little girl dressed herself and proceeded to 
church; and oh ! what an odd little creature she 
looked sitting alone in her aunt's otherwise 
empty pew. 
“Like as a father pltleth his children, so the 
Lord pltleth them that fear nim,” read the 
preacher. 
A change has come over the queer child that 
sits alone. Her large arid old-fashioned bonnet Is 
pushed back, and her eyes, which are beautiful, 
are Axed Intently on the preacher as she llsteus 
with awakening hope. Pity is precisely the as¬ 
pect of love which she has learned to esteem the 
most divine, and it is hers, If the minister speaks 
true; and tf the book out of which he reads de¬ 
ceive not. 
Eagerly she attends to the sermon ; for she is 
most anxious to know what it Is to l'ear the Lord. 
Ah! now she understands. It Is nothing more 
than tne fear of every loving heart, the rear to 
offend. The ugly face becomes beautirul as It, Is 
Irradiated first with Intelligence, then succes¬ 
sively with hope, faith, and love. Joy at length 
overpowers her. She weeps, she sobs. Then a 
hand Is laid on her wrist and she Is led gently out 
- Into the churchyard. 
“ What is the matter, my dear?” asks some one. 
The voice Is pleasant and not unfamiliar. She 
looks up In the speaker’s face, aud, to her sur¬ 
prise, rinds that she Is addressed by the kind 
papa who walks In the garden with his sick boy. 
Regarding him not as a stranger, hut as a friend, 
Kate frankly tells how the sight, of him and his 
little hoy a wakened in her heart a great longing 
for love whtch is now satlsfl d. 
“I have a Father who pities me. I used to 
make believe that I was your 111,tie sick boy, and 
that you were rny papa ; but I don’t need to do 
that, any more,” she observes, with a look or 
heavenly joy. 
-■ ■ ♦ - 
LETTERS FROM BOYS AND GIRLS. 
Another New Cousin. 
Dear Rural Cousins— if soaBtrangermay call 
you, I have been watching Editor, Grandmother, 
Cousins, and all, with considerable Interest tor 
some time, but “Stay erofeoncelt,” In issue or July 
21 , brought me to the speaking or writing point. 
Now “Slayer,” don’t be frightened—I'll not harm 
you; but do let me exclaim, “In an oratorical 
voice,"what a good-natured, quarrelsome com¬ 
pany of Cousins you arej I fence my wish to Join 
you: not to quarrel, however. For I’ll promise to 
be good. If you will let me in. 
Firstly, that naughty Editor goes for that dear 
old “Grandmother”—says she has switched off 
the track. Do you not see, slie is a very good il¬ 
lustration of the mother she speaks of, who went 
to church and left the hoys ? Only “ Grandmoth¬ 
er,” poor old lady, is fretting over all creation, in 
place of three little boys. Fray don’t disturb her, 
she Is improving. 
And then comes “ Slay erofeoncelt.” now he 
does pilch Into the women! Wonder If he speaks 
from experience/ Oh, my! dou’t he write as 
though he had never Inhabited anything but a 
lemon-rind all the days of his short, uneventful 
lire 7 Speak back, little Cousins, and Adel W— 
in particular. Give him plenty of room, and he 
will soon complete the business of knocking the 
conceit out of himself, If out of no one else. 
To M attie F.’s question, “ Where Is the com¬ 
mand given In the Bible to 1 Trim the garments 
with blue ribband?’ ” 1 answer, she will find it In 
Numbers 15; 38. 
What a solemn letter “Solomon Sap” has writ¬ 
ten on that very solemn subject, “ The Oyster!” 
— Hattie A., Chippewa Co., ms, 
A Touohlng (!) Incident. 
Dear Rural Cousin’s;-! have just returned to 
ray dear country home to spend my vacation, and 
with the permission of Mr. Editor, I would like to 
tell you of an incident that occurred a few days 
before, f left school. 
It, was on Monday morning and all the largest 
girls were together In the drawing-room, wheu 
Mrs. W., the principal's wife, came In and said, 
“ Girls, I am In a worry this morning, Mary, my 
washerwoman, Is sick, and I know not whom to get, 
to do my washing. All my other help have more 
than they can attend to, so they Cannot do the 
washing.” We all sympathized with her, and 
asked If such and such a person in the neighbor¬ 
hood could not be procured, when Laura Haw¬ 
thorn, the loveliest and mo3t advanced pupil In 
school, and one whom we all looked up to as our 
leader said, “Mrs. W. I will do your washing for 
you this week.” For a moment, there was silence 
in that room, when Mrs. W. broke It saying, 
“ My dear Laura, you have always been a klnd- 
liearled and Intelligent girl, but you have never, , 
no never, made such an impression on my mind ,*, 
and heart, as you have tuts morning, since you A 
have entered this institution you Uave won the V 
esteem of both my family and your school-mates, 
but this morning by your kind and loving spirit A 
you have taught mo a lesson I never can forget,” 
Then, turning to us girls she sakl, “ Girls, this Is A 
a lesson tor ail-” It is needless lor me to say that I 
the example was not thrown away.—C ousin 
Maud. c 
enjoyed It. Am now having my vacation ; I study 
just the same as If I wc re going to school. I must 
tell you about my brother’s experiment.. 
My little bird, Nip, died, so Wai.uk and Bertie 
thought T would like some little Cat-birds, They 
took Nip’s cage and put a nest of young Cat-birds 
In It, and allowed the mother bird to go into the 
cage and feed them till they were nearly ready to 
fly. Then they closed the door and hung them on 
the porch. Now the mother-bird feeds them 
through the wires, and we are very careful not to 
frighten them, and they seem quite contented 
and happy, if, after a t.lrns, they seem discon¬ 
tented, we shall let them go free. Their names 
are Muff, Puff and ltuff. Your mend, 
OUsvllle, N, Y., Aug. 5, 77. Lottie Kino. 
# Rocky Mountain Joe Once More. 
Dear Cousins;—! think perhaps you will be 
somewhat surprised to see me back again, think¬ 
ing 1 had fled for good; but not so. Wild Fern 
asks tf boys sew with thimbles? I can, lor one, 
and can also do housework and wash dishes as 
well as any of the girls. I would like to ask Wild 
Fern what she can do in the line of out-door 
work, or is she one of the kind of girls that dwell 
In the parlor, pounding on the plauo, while mother 
Is In the kitchen doing the work? I sincerely 
hopo she Is not. 
one word to A. w. Have the “ Murphys ” been 
your way with their blue ribbons? I wear the 
blue ribbon, and do uot drink, chew or smoke. 
How many of the readers of the Rural can say 
the same ? I hope all can. 1 would like to keep 
up a private correspondence with some of the 
Cousins.— Rocky Mountain Joe. 
IITrles It Again. 
Dear Rural Cousins,—As the editor was so 
kind as to .print my other letter, I thought I 
would try again. Tnls Is a fair, pretty morning 
and therefore I felt like writing. I agree with 
Cousin A lug about all or you writing oftener, for 
I like to hear rrom you all, and get more and 
more Interested In our columns. 1 think the boys 
have a rather hard opinion of the girts (especially 
Slavekofconceit, and Solomon Sap ) I think 
they had better look to themselves and not And 
rault with the girls all the time. I would like to 
hear from Prairie Jim again. Mollie, 
Barnesvllle, Ohio, 1877. 
>aWrat| ^.fairing. 
% fuglH. 
HIDDEN BIRDS. 
1. We have lost riches and gems. 
2 . Pigs wallow In the raire. 
3. Do you wear black, Birdie dear ? 
•i. 1 crave new cider. 
r>. in yonder wood cockatrice eggs were found. 
r ~*■ -” u niust go, Adolphe, as Antony Is very 111. 
i. i r is part rid, George, and you hide the rest, 
s. She is a fast snip, even In frolic, 
y. He nought, a game cock at Oolong, China. 
10 . Do you burn wood, Peckeredge? 
H. Papa roqueted his billiard ball. 
12 . cimscuc Kooverisan Austrian. 
13. In her dress of blue, Birdie looked sweet, 
u. See the thorn Billie got Into his throat. 
15. Do dogs go mad lu winter ? 
1 G. You may go, Shaw. Kate has sent for you. 
17. Sweet Pet relied upon me. 
Answer in two weeks. Little One. 
ENIGMA. 
Ambitious to be a Dialect Writer. 
Mr. Editor;—W ith yuropurmlshun, I will step 
lntu the “ Kuzens’ Curkle” a moment, to chat 
with the gun labeled Amelia, Du yousuppoze 
the artlkle lieded “Old Bachelors” (that wuz red 
by tue boys, and luffed at by the gurls,) lz tu be 
shuved around the curkle uuunscrod ? A shout 
like the roreuvthc tempust, ansersNo! Tharo 
lz, az yu say, wuuce Ju a while an Old B. But it 
lz hiz own folt. He cood hav been a hen-pecked 
lmzband, with tenth nocked out, and his hare 
homed oph, £e. Thare ar sutch kascs. So sez 
history. But It. lz when thay married Old Mades, 
tho. ir Old Bachelors wur invented hefour Old 
Modes, I must say the latter Is knot mutch Iiu- 
provment. I cood doskrlbe wuo, hut it might raze 
the ire uv sum uv the gentlur seeks. Amelia’s 
Old B. must hav ben “pekulyor.” But the trub- 
ble wuz, I gess lie wuz only ilurtlng, and left hut- 
tor sum uther gurl for a change. Rents the terry- 
bul “ Ink Sling” at Old Bachelors in genral. You 
ma think 1 am wun; but I am a good-naclmrcd, 
blu-lde yootli uv nineteen awtums. But, gurls, 
glv the Old Bachelors fitts If you ltan. 1 hoap 
yure efforts will be krowned with sucksess. And 
now, ladlz and gentlemen, I will bid you adoo — 
Yankee Bill, 
Ati Experiment With Cat-Birds, 
Dear Mr. Editor.—I have not written to the 
Rural In so long a time that I hardly know what 
to write about; but am so anxious to write that I 
cannot wait, longer. 
Since my last letter I have been to school and 
an ear-splitting Instrument, noisy and loud, 
The tocsin of troops, the Joy of a crowd; 
A n empty, a hollow, a profitless thing, 
Ever storming and staring and blustering. 
A scone at “My Lady’s” —squeeze, clamor and 
heat; 
A good deal to drink, and but little to eat; 
For thus rules stern Fashion—her slaves must 
obey— 
Keep awake all the night, lie In bed an the day. 
A part of our system that oft Is annoyed 
By organs and lianas, at street corners emploj’ed; 
What with bagpipes and banjoes, by violins 
backed, 
’Tls a wonder ’tls not very often quite cracked. 
tv~ Answer in two weeks. Md. 
--m-- 
CHARADE. 
, AS void of my first as the flower in the breeze 
She looked as her fingers flew over the keys; 
And she wore rings of pearl and carbuncle. 
Could she do second than make e’en seraphs de¬ 
spair, 
As whole she sang the sweet, heart-touching air, 
“ How Tommy make room for your uncle ?” 
e?r Answer In two weeks. May. 
-»»• - 
BURIED ENGLISH CITIES. 
1. Sell only on security; but even then be¬ 
ware. 
2 . May Roger send over Bob at half-past one 
with part or the ox tor dinner ? 
3. Tell either Mary or Kate to get the hamper 
the boy left lately. 
Answer In two weeks. d. b. 
PUZZLER ANSWERS.-Jan. 12. 
Illustrated Rebus.— strike while tho iron’s hot. 
rouble A®rostic.—I nitials, Spring; finals, Sea- 
' SMALL THINGS. 
Despise not thou srnaHJtbings; 
) The soul that longs for wings 
i To soar to some great hight of sacrifice, too oft 
i Forgets the daily round, 
i Where little cares abound, 
[ And shakes off little duties while she looks aloft. 
God has sent some below 
Who must their all forego. 
And at His bidding give their loved, the best; 
Tho lot of some, like thine. 
Is small things to resign, [blest. 
Yet, if thou giv’st that little, then thou too art 
Thou tread’st a lonely way. 
Be willing day by day 
To give up little comforts at God’s call; 
That thou may’st ready be 
To yield up cheerfully. 
When he shall crave thy dearest and thine all' 
[Sunday at Home. 
• -♦-*-♦-. 
CYNICISM. 
The Presbyterian is responsible for the follow¬ 
ing :—To this day the cheapest way in the world 
to get a reputation for great depth and strength 
of mind Is to set up as a cynic. The method Is 
easy. All that Is necessary Is to stand off and 
grumble. In every realm of thought and action 
we find a large class of people who make this 
their occupation; and even In the Church there 
is a prevalent way of looking at and talking 
about things which plainly deserves to he called 
cynical. Tne people who indulge lu It (for their 
evident gusto shows It to be an indulgence) have 
a profound conviction that the world Is “going 
to the bad that, vice Is rampant to an unparal¬ 
leled degree; i,hut "the chasm” between science 
and religion Is wider than ever before, and that 
almost everybody Is on the wrong side; the 
Church, especially in other denominations and 
foreign countries, Is corrupt and renegade; that 
missions do not, seem to do much good, and that 
total depravity has risen to tho top In every one 
except themselves. 
They look back and sigh tor the good old times, 
or they look toward to some “golden year”; 
and, lost In reverie, forget the work which alone 
can transform the present Into that Uigher 
future. The cynic exclaims, with Hamlet: 
" The time i$ out of Joint; O nursed spite I 
That I was ever born to set It ri^bt,” 
and thon sit do wn to wait for some great oppor¬ 
tunity, some revolution, In which lie may become 
the savior or Lis country, or the reformer or his 
Church. The future may bring some such grand 
mission; tor the present he will content himself 
with dignified growling. 
Constant carping and disgust with the world 
react on the soul, and stiffen it Into dead misan¬ 
thropy. Contempt tor humanity Is fatal to that 
spirit of charity which Implies and vlvitles all 
good works. For this reason It Is true that 
people who are always moaning or snarling 
about the dreadful state of things In the Church 
are Urn last ones to take part in any labor to 
make It better. Take, for example, those who 
are so very cynical on t he subject of the Church’s 
neglect of the poor; how many of them are 
willing to do mission work of any kind, or to wel¬ 
come some ragged brother to their comfortable 
seat In the, synagogue ? 
THE SALVATION OF SOCIETY. 
As of every species, depends on the mainten¬ 
ance of an absolute opposition between the 
regime of the family aud tho regime of the State. 
To survive, every species of creature must fulfill 
two conflicting requirements. During a certain 
period each member must receive benefits in pro¬ 
portion to its incapacity. AfLer that period. It 
must receive benefits In proportion to its cap ic¬ 
ily. Observe the bird fostering Ha young, or the 
mammal rearing Its litter, aud you see that Im¬ 
perfection and Inability are rewarded ; and that 
as aid lily increases, the aid given lu rood and 
warmth becomes less. Obviously this law, that 
the least worthy shuU receive most, Is essential 
as a law for the immature; Lliu species would 
disappear In a generation did nor parents con¬ 
form to it. Now- mark what Is, contrariwise, the 
law tor the mature. Here Individuals gain re¬ 
wards proportionate to theirraertte. Tne strong, 
the swift, the kecn-Hlgbted, t|m sagacious, profit 
by their respective superiorities—catch prey, or 
escape enemies, as the case may be. Tin; ies 3 
capable thrive less, and on the average of cases 
rear fewer offspring. The least capable disap¬ 
pear by failure to get prey, or from iiiabtllityto 
escape. And by tide process Ls maintained that 
average quality of the species which enables It 
to survive the struggle for existence with other 
species. There is thus, during mat ure lire, an ab¬ 
solute reversal ef the principle that ruled during 
immature file.— Herbert Sfknobk. 
-- 
A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM. 
The Rev. Dr. Mllnor was brought up a Quaker 
became a dlstlnguulshed lawyer In Philadelphia, 
aud was a member of Congress ldr three RiR-ces- 
sive terms. Returning to hla home on a visit 
during nis last Congressional session, hla little 
daughter rushed up lu him exclaiming, “ Pupa, 
papa, do von know 1 can read ?” “ No,” lie said, 
“let me hear you.” 8 tie opened her little Bible 
and read, “Thon shall love the Lord thy God 
with all thy heart.” it was an arrow In hlBown 
heart. It came to him as n solemn admonition, 
“ out of the mouth of babes.” God’s Spirit moved 
within him. He was driven to ids closet, and a 
friend calling upon him found lie had been weep¬ 
ing over the “ Dairyman's Daughter.” Although 
forty years or age, lie abandoned politics and law 
tor tho ministry of the gospel. For thirty years 
he was the beloved rector or 8t. George’s church, 
In Philadelphia, the predecessor of the veucraleu 
Dr. Tyug. 
