fitcnuu Hfealhntr, 
THE TWO SUITORS. 
One sends a lily, cold and white— 
White, with a heurt of gold; 
And one a bud, not open Quite, 
Whose pale lips Just unfold 
To whisper—hush, I know, dear rose 1 
Not yet, not yet, your lips unclose ! 
One says, “ O, lady, wear to-night 
This lily for my sake; 
And let me read this sign aright, 
A fairer flower to take 1" 
The other—hush, I know, dear rose 1 
Not yet, not yet, thy lips unclose! 
Lily, X hate you—proud and grand, 
Death,twith a heart of gold 1 
Rose, dear rose, do you understand 
To tell what you are told ? 
A word—a kiss—to-night, dear rose, 
To-night to him yoar lips unclose! 
[Detroit Free Press. 
-♦ » » 
OLD TINKER-A STUDY. 
M. E. S. 
It stood just across the road from the church, 
the little one-story red building, with Its creak¬ 
ing, rheumatic old sign flapping In the wind. 
But, bless your heart! everybody In the village 
knew the place as well as they did their own 
liorneB, and the sign, with “ Sir, as Tinker, Boot 
and Shoe-maker " painted on It might as well 
have been in Jericho, for all the good It did, 
“Sicas Tinker,’’ Indeed! It ought to havo 
been “Old Tinker,” for that was what every¬ 
body called him. I think he, himself, would 
have started If any one had addressed him as 
“Sicas Tinker," hut Old Tinker was as familiar 
to him as his awl and last. 
lie was a di*;d-up, wrinkled, white-headed old 
curmudgeon without the heart of a mite. The 
milk of human kindness had soured long ago as 
far as he was concerned; there were always a 
hideous frown on his face, and a snap and a snarl 
on the end of his tongue. His nose was long and 
pointed, his mouth puckered, aud Ills eyes about 
the size of beans. But they were evil utfclo eyes I 
and they could dart such spiteful glints! Grown 
people shunned him, and children would as soon 
enter a red-hot, furnace as Old Tinker’s shop. 
The very dogs took to their heels when they saw 
him coming and, It Is said, a pet cat by some mis¬ 
chance wandering into his shop, went howling 
out and was never soon more. 
Everyday was alike to Old Tinker, lie did not 
know the meaning of a holiday. H undays, when 
the villagers met at the little church to worship, 
they could look through the open windows 
ana see him sitting at his bench hammering 
away for dear life, and looking sourer than ever. 
The good parson had remonstrated with him hut 
all to no purpose. He was not to be moved from 
the even tenor of his way'. Still, one thing was 
universally conceded, no one could make such 
boots and shoes as he. No one could put on a 
patch as neatly as Old Tinker ; he had a faculty 
for mending the most dilapidated brogans until 
they looked as good as new. He lived on 
nothing a day, as the grocer could well testify. 
His house consist ed of the one room with a bed 
In a recess; a table, a wooden chair and his 
bench, not forgetting a queer old dutch clock. 
The church tuud didn’t trouble Old Tinker; 
his name was never seen at the head or tall of a 
subscription list. He never contributed to the 
foreign mission, In fact he was never known to 
he liberal but once, and that happened when a 
beggar, asking him for a penny, received his 
“awl” Instead! 
To speak truth, he was a heathen, and needed 
a missionary' to reform him as badly as any of 
the South sea Islanders. Such an one came at 
last, and In a strange manner. 
Jack Travers was considered the scape-goat 
of the town. Ho was the son of a drunken father, 
and a hard-working mother. I say *' scape-goat" 
—not that there was anything so very bad about 
him, only a superabundance of fun; for, although 
he was always ready for a Joke, be was just as 
ready to help or sympathize with any one In 
trouble. Girls and small boys liked him because, 
as he used to say, he “ Wouldn’t see ’em bullied.” 
Poor Jack didn’t wear very good clothes. He was 
always out at the elbows and knees, and his feet 
were oftenor bare than shod. These trifling In¬ 
conveniences, however, never troubled him—not 
a bit of lr,! lie was one of those happy fellows 
who make their own sunshine as they go along. 
Ills way to school lay past “ Old Tinker’s" shop, 
and one morning, hts hands In his pockets, whist¬ 
ling along, he happened to glance In, There sat 
the old heathen, his face in a thousand wrinkles, 
his mouth puckered to one side, and the meanest 
little look In Ills bean eyes. J ack was seized sud¬ 
denly with a lit of daring, Thrusting his head In 
at the door, he shouted, “How ugly you look, 
‘Old Tinker!’ ” 
instantly the awl came flying through the air, 
and the boy took to his heels with all speed. 
Cursing the 111 luck of It, “ Old Tinker" picked 
up the unreasonable tool and resumed his work. 
But somehow he couldn’t forget the words, ” How 
ugly you look, ‘Old Tinker!’” They troubled 
him. Everything seemed repeating them. Every 
peg lie drove, the hammer kept saylug, 41 liow 
Ugly you look, * Old Tinker !' ’’ The clock ticked 
out regularly, 44 How.ugly you look, 4 Old Tink¬ 
er!’ ” when the bell rang for prayer-meeting, it 
rang out, “How ugly you look, ‘Old Tinker 1 ’" 
THE RURAL. NEW-YORKER. 
He couldn’t even walk across tho room without 
his shoes squeaking the same refrain. 
it was aggravating-It was downright mean. 
He went to bed an hour earlier that night, first 
stuffing his ears full of cotton, so that he might 
not hear the clock. As soon as he fell asleep, 
great goblins peeped from behind his bed-posts, 
perched on the foot-board, and at last filled the 
room. They shook their heads, and pointing 
their long, skluny Ungers at him, laughed, cack¬ 
led, and screamed, “ How ugly you look, 4 Old 
Tinker 1 Oh, how ugly you look 1" 
The next day It was no better, nor the next. 
He didn’t dare sleep o’ nights, for fear of the gob¬ 
lins, who made It even woise for him than In the 
day-time. He begun to neglect his work and lose 
his customers. The Parson found that the patch 
on one of his Sunday boots was so poorly put on, 
that it dropped off the first time he wore It; peo¬ 
ple complained that his shoes weren’t half peg¬ 
ged, and that the leather cracked. “ Old Tinker" 
lost ground bo fast, that presently he was com¬ 
pelled to sir. astride his bench, idle, and listen to 
that dreadful clock. 
One day, when he could stand It no longer, he 
tore off the honest old Dutch face, and hammered 
the machinery to pieces. “ There!” he exclaimed, 
“I shall have a little pcaoo now.” But no; he 
was mistaken. Very soon he heard a chirping 
sound near the flro-place. It was only a little 
black cricket, hut It said as plainly as possible, 
“ How ugly you look, * Old Tinker 1 ” He rushed 
for It with the poker, but It skipped down a crack 
out of sight, and chirped louder than over. At 
last, completely disheartened, and almost ready 
to give up, he fell asleep on his bench and dream¬ 
ed a curious dream. Whcm ho awoke, he went to 
work with a will, and a customer coming In that 
afternoon, was astonished by his asking, '■ How 
many children Mrs. 1’ravkrs had?" 
One night, several weeks after this occurrence, 
Jack was returning from school, with his face 
somewhat downcast. He was thinking ho w much 
he and Ills brothers and glRters needed new shoes, 
and how unlikely they wore to get any. Hla father 
was drinking very hard and the family were poorer 
than ever. As he came opposite tho shop, Old 
Tinker was standing In the door. Jack thought 
of tho awl and was going to shy across the street, 
when the old man called to him. 
“ What do you want of mo ?” asked Jack, draw¬ 
ing back. 
“ I’ve got something for you,” he answered. 
‘‘A flogging,” quoth Jack to himself, “I’ll bet 
my life;" and adding aloud, “I’m Just as much 
obliged to you, and I hope you won’t take It hard 
If 1 refuse.’ 
“ Come, now, don’t be afraid. I don’t wish you 
any harm. See,” and he held a large packago 
toward the boy. “ You can have this on one con¬ 
dition.” 
“ What’s that ?” asked Jack, ills curiosity some¬ 
what aroused. 
“ That you’ll never say again, as long as you 
live, 4 How ugly you look. Old Tinker.’ ” 
“ Well,” replied Jack, giving a prolonged whis¬ 
tle, “ I can promise that easily enough, If It’s all 
you want; but 1 can just tell you, If I’m to have 
that ’ere bundle, you’ll have to lay It down on the 
walk, and go Into the shop and shut the door tight 
’fore I’ll come after It; for I can’t get over the 
feeling you moan gammon on a fellar." 
To his groat surprise, Old Tinker did as he was 
hidden, and, snatching the parcel. Jack made his 
way home. Upon opening the packago, he found 
that which caused him to stare In open-eyed won¬ 
der, and the rest of the family too, tor that mat¬ 
ter. It did scorn Incredible, but It proved a fact. 
Old Tinker had opened his heart, and made a 
present of a pair of shoes to every one of tho chil¬ 
dren. Mrs. Travers was not forgotten, either. 
Now, as I have said before, Jack possessed a 
soft heart. He felt very grateful lor this unlook¬ 
ed-for ght, and wanted to thank Old Tinker very 
much. But what to say, or how to accomplish It, 
was more than he could conjecture. He remain¬ 
ed awake that night, thinking about the matter, 
forming all manner of plans, and all to no pur¬ 
pose. One thing was certain: he didn’t wish to 
get very near the old man, for sundry good rea¬ 
sons. Eventually a happy thought 6eemed to 
strike him, aud he was soon sleeping lustily. 
The next morning, when he came near the shop, 
the door was standing halt open. He felt a queer 
flutter about his heart, but, putting a bold face 
on, he hurriedly thrust his face Iu and shouted, 
at the top of his voice, “God bless you, Old 
Tinker t” 
The old man started, dropping his awl upon 
the floor, and stared with amazement after the 
retreating figure. 44 1 declare," he muttered, 
“that youngster gave me a queer start. What 
could he mean?" Soon he heard a chirping 
sound, and looking down, there sat the black 
cricket close beside him, saying “ God bless you 
Old Tinker." He didn’t start for the poker this 
time, but sat perfectly still gazing at the Insect 
in a bewildered way. By and by he picked up hls 
hammer and drove a peg. “ God bless you Old 
Tinker" the strokes said. He got up and walked 
across the room—” God bless you Old Tinker,” 
hls shoes squeaked. He listened when the bell 
rang for prayer meeting, “God bless you Old 
Tinker” It rang. And, If you’ll believe It, when 
he fell asleep that night, Instead of the Goblins 
came troops of white robed angels who hovered 
around hls bed and kept whispering “God bless 
you Old Tinker!” 
Now, this was a very different tune from the 
other; and produced much better harmony as 
you well know who have had any experience In 
the matter. It didn’t seem to distract him at all, 
for he worked better than ever aud there wasn’t 
half as many wrinkles In hls raoe as formerly. 
In fact, he seemed to like It, for every once In a 
whHe he would catch himself repeating out loud 
" God bless you Old Tinker." After a while peo¬ 
ple began to notice a change for the better. A 
customer spread the wonderful news that “ Old 
Tinker had smiled on him, and said good-morn- 
lng.” Then another thing they noticed the 
shop was closed on Sundays. The parson when 
he heard of tt, determined to try hls luck once 
again. So one day he happened In for the ex¬ 
press purpose of engaging the old man In a little 
religious argument. Upon asking him “If he 
didn't consider hls soul In a precarious condition,” 
much to hls surprise and delight ho answered, 
“he did.” The paison then proposed prayer. 
When he had finished, Old Tinker, with tears In 
hls eyes, told hlB experience, at which the par¬ 
son declared, very solemnly, It was the hand of 
the Lord, and Old Tinker replied very meekly, 
“he thought It. was.” He got him to promfte that 
he would attend church next Sunday, and went 
away well satisfied. 
Now I do not wish to condemn the good parson 
as an egotist, hut this was such a remarkable 
case that he felt it hls duty to go from house to 
house and Inform the Inhabitants 44 that he had 
converted Old Tinker, and that he was going to 
church.” 
The next Sabbath the meeting house was 
crowded to overflowing. The parson delivered a 
long-winded sermon, but he might as well have 
preached to the wind. Hls congregation were 
stretching their necks to catch a glimpse of a 
white-headed, wrinkled, old man on the front 
seat, who, after the sermon was over, arose and 
In a trembling voice, with the tears streaming 
down hls cheeks, told just how It all happened. 
Jack couldn’t for tho life of him, think why it 
was after this, that all the old women gave him 
caraway cookies and sprigs of fennel between 
the meeting hours; or why the old men patted 
him on the head and called him “ a line lad” so 
often. He wasn't used to It. Still, It didn’t seem 
to disturb him much, for he kept right on shying 
snow-halls and lighting big hoys until Old Tink¬ 
er died. 
— ■ ■♦♦♦■-- 
HOW THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE IS MADE. 
BT X. Y. Z. 
Starting from the recognized fact that the 
English is not a simple but a composite language, 
made up of several elements, It. Is a study of 
great;interest to trace the words of different ori¬ 
gin to their respective sources, and to note how 
and for what purposes they have come to form 
parts of the general amalgamation. As every¬ 
body knows, tho basis of the language is Anglo- 
Saxon; which, moreover, la not only one of Its 
separate elements, like the Latin or French, from 
which we derive considerable contributions, but 
rather the foundation or fundamental portion of 
the structure. Or.lt might bo called not Improper¬ 
ly the backbone of the national speech,Into which 
all the other parts are Jointed, and on which they 
are dependent for their symmetry and adaptation 
to the ends they are called to serve. A perfect 
composition might be formed from Anglo-Saxon 
words alone, but no grammatical sentence could 
be constructed out of words that have been 
adopted from other languages. All the words we 
have derived from French or Latin are but addi¬ 
tional materials of expression; they have not 
altered the original character of the native 
tongue, but have had to conform themselves to 
Its particular laws and constitution. We must 
not, how ever, conclude that It Is mere pedantry 
to adopt a foreign word, since, perhaps few If 
any, words have been Incorporated Into our lan¬ 
guage that were not necessary, or at least ser¬ 
viceable accessories. Still, It would appear that 
our entire acquisitions from foreign sources are 
merely an Increase of words. 
Some writers affect to admire and recommend 
what has been called a pure Saxon style, and 
somehow unduly deprecate the Latin and other 
foreign portions of the language, as though 
nothing significant were gained by them. Mr. 
Trench tells us that he remembers Lord Brough¬ 
am urging upon the students at Glasgow, ;as a 
help to wi lting good English, that they should 
seek, as tar as possible, to rid their diction of 
long-tailed words lu ’oslty’ and ‘atlon.’ Not a 
bad advice, perhaps, to the class of persons then 
addressed, as It Is a known fault of young unprac- 
tlced writers to dlsteud their composition, and to 
aim at an over-stately turn of sentences. No 
doubt, one part of tho language ought not to be 
cultivated at the expense of the other; certainly 
not the Latin at the expense of tho Saxon; for 
doubtless, every word derived from a foreign 
source which has become permanently Incorpo¬ 
rated with the language, was originally adopted, 
and has been retained In use, either because It 
answered some new need of expression, or afford¬ 
ed a convenient variety of phraseology obviating 
inelegant repetitions. 
The earliest augmentation of the vocabulary 
by foreign words was evidently a consequence of 
the Norman Conquest. There was no immediate 
interpenetration of the Anglo-Saxon with any 
large amount of French words; tor, In fact, the 
two streams of language flowed a long while 
apart, even as the two nations remained aloof, 
and were not amalgamated till after many years. 
Time, however, softens the mutual antipathy 
both of men and languages. The Norman, shut 
out from France, began more and more to 
feel that England was ids home and sphere. The 
Saxon, recovering little by little from the extreme 
depression which had ensued on hls defeat, be¬ 
came every day a more Important element of the 
new English nation which was gradually form- 
tng from the coalition of the two races. Hls lan¬ 
guage partook of Ills elevation: it was no longer 
the badge of Inferiority. French was no longer 
the only language In which a gentleman could 
speak, or In which a poet, could sing. At the 
same time,tho .Saxon,now passing Into the English 
language, required a vast addition to its vocabu¬ 
lary, If It were to serve all the needs of those who 
were willing to employ It now. How much was 
there of high culture, how many of the arts of 
life, of Its refined pleasures, which had been 
strange to Saxon men, and had therefore found 
no utterance in Saxon words. All this It was 
thought to supply from the French. 
The next great Importation of foreign words 
was made from another quarter: It occurred 
shortly after the revival of learning tn Italy; and 
from the time of the Reformation, and after¬ 
wards, It was largely followed up. There was a 
need of new words to express theological and 
metaphysical Ideas—things pretty well unknown 
both to the Normans and Anglo-Saxons—and for 
this purpose a supply of Latin words was found 
to be essential. 
The period during which this naturalization of 
Latin words In the English language was going 
forward, may be said to have continued for up¬ 
wards of a century, it first received a check 
from the coming up of French tastes, fashions, 
and habits of thought, with the restoration of 
Charles 11. The writers already formed before 
that period still continued to write their stately 
sentences, Latin In structure and Latin In dlctiOD 
but not so those of a younger generation. 
We may say of this Influx of Latin, tha t it left 
the language Immensely Increased in copious¬ 
ness, with greatly enlarged capabilities, but per¬ 
haps somewhat burdened, and not always able to 
move gracefully under the weight, of Its new ac¬ 
quisitions ; for, as Dryden has somewhere truly 
said, It is easy enough to acquire foreign words, 
but to know what to do with them after you have 
acquired them. Is the difficulty. It might have 
received, Indeed, most serious Injury if all the 
words which the great writers of this Latin pe¬ 
riod of our language employed, and so proposed 
as candidates lor admission into It, had received 
the stamp of popular allowance. 
As It happened, It was not so. It was here, as 
It had been before with the French Importations; 
the reactive powers of the language, enabling It 
to throw off that which was foreign to tt, did not 
fall to display themselves now, as they had done 
then. The number of unsuccessful candidates 
for admission Into, and permanent naturalization 
in, the language during this period. Is enormous; 
and one must say that In almost all Instances 
where the alien act has been enforced, the sen¬ 
tence of exclusion was a Just one; It was such as 
the circumstances of the case abundantly bore 
out. 
Either the words were not Idiomatic, or were 
not intelligible, or were not needed, or looked 111, 
or sounded 111, or some other valid reason existed 
against them. A lover of hls native tongue will 
tremble to think what that tongue would have 
become, If all tho vocables from the Latin and 
the Greek, which were then introduced or in¬ 
dorsed by Illustrious names, had been admitted 
on the strength of their recommendation; if torve 
and tetrlc (Fuller), cecity (Hooker), lepld and suf- 
flamlnate (Barrow), stultlloquy, lmmorlgerous, 
clancuiar, ferity, hyperaspist (all In Jeremy Tay¬ 
lor); If dyscolous (Fox), mollmlnously(Cudworth), 
immarcesclhle (Bishop Hall), arrlde (ridiculed by 
BeaJonson); with the hundreds of others like 
these, and even more monstrous than some of 
these, not to speak of such Italian as leggladrous 
(Beaumont, Psyche), had not been rejected. 
Among these words, we notice one, cecity, which 
Carlyle attempted to revive, though we cannot 
think tt will ever he reoelved Into general use- 
blindness, which it signifies, Is so much simpler, 
and every way equivalent, as to be incomparably 
better. 
Many words, however, formerly deemed objec¬ 
tionable, have been adopt ed tn a shape somewhat 
different from the one tn which they were origi¬ 
nally Introduced. “ They were made to drop their 
foretgD termination—or otherwise their foreign 
appearance—to conform themselves to their ways, 
and only so were finally Incorporated Into the 
great family of English words. Thus, pantomlml 
(Lord Bacon) soon became pantomimes; atoml 
(Lord Brooke), atoms; epochs (DrydeD) became 
epoch; caricatura (Sir T. Browne), caricature; 
effigies and statua (both in Shakspeare), effigy 
and statue; not otherwise pyramls and pyra- 
mldes, which also are forms employed by him, 
became pyramid and pyramids; colone (Burton), 
clown; apostata (Massinger) became apostate; 
deapota (Fox), despot; synonym* (Milton, prose), 
synonyms; galaxlas (Fox), galaxy; and heros 
(H. More), hero. Nor can that slight but widely 
extended change of lnnoeeney. indolency, tem- 
perancy, and the large family of words with sim¬ 
ilar termination. Into Innocence, Indolence, tem¬ 
perance, and the Uke, be regarded otherwise than 
as part of the same process. 
The same has gone on with words from other 
languages, as from the Italian and the Spanish: 
thus bandito (Shakspeare) becomes bandit; prln- 
cessa (Hacket), princess; searamucha (Dryden), 
scaramouch; caprlchlo becomes first caprlch (But¬ 
ler), then caprice; ambuscado, barrlcado, rene- 
gado, hurricane (all In Shakspeare), brocado 
(Hakluyt), drop their foreign terminations, and 
severally become ambuscade, barricade, rene¬ 
gade, hurricane, brocade, other slight modifica¬ 
tions of spelling, not In the termination but In the 
body of a word, will Indicate, in like manner, its 
more entire incorporation Into the English lan¬ 
guage. Thus, restoration was at first spelt res- 
tauratlon; and so long as vicinage was spelt vol- 
slnage, (as by Bishop Sanderson,) or mirror, mlr- 
