3. Au embryo. 4 . a 
Spring for tljr gotntj). 
THE SUNSHINE’S CALL. 
“ WAKK up little daisies, awake,” 
The Bnnshine stooped warualy to whisper; 
" Come daffodils, sleeping so late. 
And bluebell, sweet hyacinth’s sister. 
Shy violets, bright eyes unclosing. 
Creep under yay peony's shade; 
Pale primrose in white drifts reposing:, 
Narcissus so dainty and staid. 
Break, lilacs, break into glad blossom, 
Tosa the wealth of yonv spicery plumes; 
Old apple. hotiKhs clustering so gladsome. 
Fill the air with your subtle perfumes. 
Come OTer the hills and the meadows, 
0 clovers, w ith blooms red and white. 
Hide under the beeches and hedge-rows, 
Fairy lady slippers bo white. 
Come cowslip and tulip and lily, 
Sweet dwellers in garden and field; 
White roses swaying so stilly, 
lted roses that blush as they yield. 
My sweethearts come over, come over, 
The grasses arc green for your feet; 
Bees sigh for the breath of the clover. 
And droop for the lily-cups deep. 
On sweet lips I long to press kisses. 
In sweet, hearts I long to lie hid. 
To be steeped in the magic of blisses 
That fold under pink and white lid. 
So wake, my Dower darlings, nor linger. 
Brave crocus is leading the way. 
I hare banished the cold chili of winter; 
Come bloom and be glad while you may.” 
[E. T. 
-» ♦ »-— 
A SWISS COUSIN. 
Uncle Truk Perhaps I am too old to get en¬ 
listed In the friendly circle of your Cousins whose 
loiters I rood very often with great pleasure, but 
having not quite attained the lawful age required 
to act as mau iu political Questions, I regard my¬ 
self still as a boy and will risk a reiusal as a 
Cousin from your young folks. 1 u the first place, 
1 will make you, Mr. Editor, and all our Cousins 
acquainted with my history up to this date, as 
most, or the cousins do wlieu they apply tor ad¬ 
mittance Into the Cousin family circle. 
Born in Schaffhausen, Switzerland, I have pass¬ 
ed away the early years ol' my existence just as 
you generally do here, v.ith playing, going to 
school, etc. When I was twelve years old I pass- j 
ed the examination 10 enter the eollego of my 
native city, where I remained three years, during 
which I learned the first, lessons in modern and 
ancient languages, In theology, astronomy, geom¬ 
etry, philosophy and natural sciences. During 
that time 1 had the ardent desire to acquire 
a thorough knowledge of French and English, 
which two languages are used not very seldom In 
the German part of Switzerland by American and 
English travelers who spend there the summer, 
admiring the beautiful scenery of lakes and riv¬ 
ers, climbing tne famed Alps to cool their feet in 
eternal snow, or restoring their health In the 
numberless watering places or Switzerland. My 
parents helped me In my purpose and, supplied 
with sufficient tends, I went to Lausanne, on the 
Genova Lake, and from there 1,0 Paris, where 
I succeeded In learning the French language 
throughout, lrequeutJug in both places higher 
schools. Returned back home again after a two- 
years’ absence, I decided to rollow my parents’ 
business, which consists in terming, and having 
heard and read so much about the American 
mode of agriculture, 1 took the resolution to go 
myself to America for the purpose of learning 
tnat branch of science practically. 
It is now exactly three yearn since 1 took that 
resolution, and five weeks afterwards I found 
myself landed safe In New York without any 
friends or relations; nobody could understand 
my German and 1 could not understand or talk 
Eaglish. After a hard struggle 1 found a French¬ 
man to whom I complained of my desolate situa¬ 
tion and asked him for further advice; my money 
made him take some Interest In me and we start¬ 
ed together for Montreal and from there to 
PlattsDurge, N. Y. Very soon lie found occupa¬ 
tion tor me In that place on a large farm and he 
hired me out to the proprietor of it tor a whole 
year. My new master could talk only English 
and consequently it was a hard task for me to 
get along; but natural pluck surmounted all the 
difficulties. The first week of my new career, 
when my master wanted something to be done,he 
was obliged to;get some Freneh-talkinglndlvldual 1 
to Interpret his orders to me, and plenty of mis- a 
takes happened quite often. After 1 worked the c 
t ime I was engaged for out, I wa3 offered a more 1 
favorable situation by a gentleman I am living b 
with ,u pre id, and I accepted It. Last winter I h 
went to rChool and Improved considerably in the t 
English langunge; or course, I make yet, from 
time to time, some mistakes in writing or speak¬ 
ing English, as you may find out In the present 
letter. 
Mr. Editor, I wish you would excuse this long 
letter wit h nothing but personal Items In It, but 
li the Cousins should like It, 1 would be very I ^ 
willing to write to them the next time about | 
farming and o.lior matters lu Europe or Switzer¬ 
land especially, to which country I shall return 
next fall. Anyhow, 1 am decided to take Friend 
Rctiul wlih m» and keep, up through him com- 
LttUQlc&tlon tvifcli (i Young Atusrlcsi. 91 **? 
Clinton Oo„ N. Y. John Schkoyn. in 
[l print our new •• Cousin’s” letter almost en- as 
tli'eiy as It was originally witten, because It Ll 
seems to me an admirable thing to have mastered 
the English tongue as well as he has in the short 
time he has been permitted by circumstances to < 
apply himself to the task. I am sure I can wel- 
Y come him heartily to our columns In the name of 
myself and my young relatives, and trust he will 
— write often, telling us of his home and his Euro¬ 
pean experiences. If ho returns to Switzerland, 
we may be permitted to express the hope that It 
will be only for a temporary sojourn, and that In¬ 
stead of farewell, we may say an revoir. u. t.] 
4 * » - - — 
THE GIRL EVERYBODY LIKES. 
M. K. STONB. 
She Is not beautiful—Oh no! nobody thinks of 
calling her that. Not one of a dozen can tell 
whether her eyes are black or blue. If you 
should ask them to describe ber, they could only 
say, *» She la Just right” and there It would end. 
She Is a merry-hearted, fun-lovlng, bewitching 
maiden, without a spark of envy or malice in 
her whole composition. She enjoys herseir 
and wants everybody else to do the same. She 
has always a kind word and pleasant smile for 
the oldest man or woman, In fact, I cau think of 
nothing she resembles more than a great sun¬ 
beam which brightens every thing It comes In 
contact, with! 
All pay her marked attention, from rich Mr. 
Walts, who lives lu the mansion on the the hill, 
to negro Sam, the sweep, au look after her 
with an admiring eye and say to themselves. 
“She Is just the right sort of a girl.” 
The young men of t he town Me with one another 
as to who shall show her the most attention, 
but she never encourages them beyond being 
simply kind and Jolly; so no one can call her a 
iilrt: no, indeed, the young men would deny 
such an assertion as quickly as she. 
Girls,—wonderful to relate—like her too 1 for 
she never delights la hurling their feelings or 
saying spiteful things behind their backs. She 
is always Willing to join in their little plans and 
assist them la any way. They go to her with 
their love affairs and she manages adroitly to 
see George or Charlie, and drop a good word for 
Ettle or Minnie, until their little difficulties are 
all patched up and everything goes on smoothly 
again,—thanks to her. 
Old ladles say she Is “delightful.” The sly 
witch knows how to humor them. She listens pa¬ 
ttern ly to complaints of the rheumatism or neu¬ 
ralgia, and then sympathizes 'With them so 
heartily that they are half cured. 
But she cannot be always with us. By-and- 
by a young man comes from a distant town and 
marries her The villagers crowd around and 
tell him what a prize he has won, but he seems 
to know it pretty well without any telling, to 
Judge from hLs face. So she leaves us, and It Is 
not long before we hear from that place. She 
Is there the woman everbody litres. -S 
THE LITTLE MAID THAT SLEPT. 
Sombre folds the windows shroud, 
Phantom figures come and go — 
Hearts that must not break too loud, 
MuiHed footfalls, whispers low, 
Cool deft hands—about a bed 
Where, ’nealh fever’s scorching sway. 
Lies a little restless head, 
J OBsintr, toSaimr, tossing aye. 
But the hour of fate draws nigh. 
And the mid sun overhead 
Shrieks and drops from out the sky— 
Yea, the ahild is dead ! 
But she lies bo dimphng-fair. 
In her bed-gown long and white. 
With her waves of heavy hair 
Drowning neck and shoulder bright. 
With the flower-lips just apart. 
Half way budded to a Rinile— 
Pure young heart, O sweet child heart. 
Hardly smirched with human guile! 
Info so bright on cheek and brow 
And those thin white lids of hers— 
Fancy whispers, “Softlynow, 
Softly—see, she stirs I” 
But the twin hands fairy small. 
Crossed above the bosom’s snow, 
Never rise and hang and fall 
With the breath's soft ebb and flow. 
Yea, the breaking mother heart. 
Throbbing close, in anguish prest. 
Vainly would its warmth impart 
ro the blue-veined marble breast; 
Ei-sses win no kissed reply. 
Yea, the pet name softly said 
Lures no smile to mouth and eye— 
Truly, she is dead. 
First to heaven He turns His eyes 
One long moment, as In prayer, 
Then upon the maid that lies 
Wrapt in slumber still and fair, 
Lo, His bunds Just touch her clay; 
■' Little maiden, wake, arise!” 
Aud the sharp swoot light of day 
Smites in lightning on her eyes, 
Aud the blood’s swift tide again, 
Like a stream its chain that breaks, 
Sings through every tingling veiu, 
As she sighs, and smiles, and wakes, 
Lij s that laugh and eyes that weep, 
Throat that thrills with stifled scream ! 
Little maiden, thou didst sleep— 
Oh, to know thy dream ! 
{Quod Words. 
-- — -- 
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF JESUS. 
Luke i. r, 10 ,17. 
’ POLYSYLLABIC ANAGRAMS. 
l. But Lis la at Nlo. 2 . Tune numb prices. 3. 
Pour great rye so. 4. U ran pure salt. s. Ralph 
an A1 reap’ 6. Bran mouse catne. 7. My subfile 
rain. s. 1 diet or mash pie. «. No l Eliza Mar¬ 
tini. 10. A calf it is If on. ll. Malt fireman. 12. 
Dun men lay flat. 13. Come to Tragle. 14 . Foul 
dew and n—n. 15. I cap Charles Pla. 16. Be led 
at Ire. 17. Rat’s cart, Io. is, Pue's theater. is. 
An ant In Cotl. 20. Come In Lib, try llln’s pie. 
21. Come surly man, I bit. 22 . o lit a quince. 23 . 
In a great gloom. 24. Mad In his rat, 25. Jut 
and stem. 
tv Answer In two weeks, Littls One, 
-H*-- 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 23 letters: 
My 3, 10 , 20 , 21,15 is a man’s name. 
My 1 ,19, 13,13 a place we all like. 
My 2 , 14 , 22 a metal. 
My 4 , 17, 4,6 a perfume. 
My 0 . 12 , s a personal pronoun. 
My 9, 2 , 23 , 11 , 7 forward. 
My whole Is what all should do. 
IP" Answer In two weeks. a g 1 
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. 
1. A hood of disguise. 2 . Valuation by author¬ 
ity. 8. A vagrant. 4. Senseless. 5. A French 
article, c. A vegetable. 7. A man’s name. 8. A 
city of Illinois. 9. Part of a gentleman’s attlrp. 
10 . A man of the Bible. 11 . Cooling. 12 . A num¬ 
ber. 13. Entrance. 14. Sufficient. 15 . A pest 
hou e. 16. To languish. Primals and finals form 
two of Dickens’ novels. 
lav* Answer In two weeks. Floridian. 
WORD-SQUARE ENIGMA. 
1. To Insist. 2 . A dance, 
man’s name. 
tv Answer in two weeks. 
J KNNY. 
PUZZLER ANSWERS.—April 6 and 13. 
Geographical Charades.— 1 , Phe-nan-do-aii - 
2, De-la-ware; 3. Beim-mar-ie; 4. T^-utfn,.Von-de: 
£ u » 7. ho Are ; 8, Oorso~c?r (on): I>au-u- 
be; lOTar-an-to; lL>l-hmis : 12. Buls-aoV 13 cX 
tar-o; 14. War-saw ; 15, Po-la; 16. Slat-Bua; 17. War- 
as-din; 1.V Leg-img-o; 19. Gut-h i; 20, Pot»-ifiuu: 21 
Laas-a: 22, Taunt-on; 23, Sivitzer-luaii. 
Miscellaneous Enigma.—H ope on, hope ever. 
Enigma.— yperm candle. 
Geographical enigma.—S he stoops to conquer. 
The work to be done for the bodies of men was 
accomplished, and there yet remained some hours 
of the summer’s day unconsumed. The power 
and goodness displayed lu this miraculous heal¬ 
ing, would naturally predispose the people to lis¬ 
ten to the instructions or t he Saviour. This was 
too valuable un opportunity to be lost. Our Lord 
therefore proceeded to speak to them of the 
things concerning the kingdom of God. We can 
seem to porcelve the Saviour seeklngan eminence 
from whence he could the more conveniently ad¬ 
dress this vast assembly. You hear him uufold 
the laws or God's moral government. Hi* unmasks 
the hypocrisy of the Pharises; he rebukes the in¬ 
fidelity of the Sidducees; he exposes the folly 
of the frivolous, as well as of the selfish word- 
ling; he speaks peaceably to the bumble peni¬ 
tent; he encourages the meek, aud comforts 
those that be cast down. The lutellect and the 
conscience of this vast assembly are swayed at 
his will. The soul of mau bows down in rever¬ 
ence In the presence or its Creator. As he closes 
ills address, every eye Is moistened with com¬ 
punction ror slu. Every soul cherishes the hope 
of amendment. Every one is conscious that a 
new moral light has dawned upon his soul, and 
that a new moral universe has been unveiled to 
Ids spiritual vision. As the closing words of tne 
Saviour fell upon their pare, the whole multitude 
stood fora while unmoved,as though transfixed to 
the earth by some mighty spell ; until, ut last, 
the murmur Is heard irom thousands of voices 
“Never man spake Uke this man.” 
But the shades of evening are gathering around 
them. The multitude have nothing to eat. To 
send them away fastlug would be inhuman, for 
divers or them came Horn far, and many were 
women ana cnildreu, who could not perform their 
Journey homeward without previous refreshment. 
To purchase food In the surrounding towns and 
Villages would bo difficult; but even were this 
possible, whence could the necessary funds be 
provided? A famishing multitude was thus un- 
expectedly cast upon the bounty of our Lord. Ho 
had not tempted God by leading them Into the 
wilderness. They came to him of themselves, to 
hear hLs words and to bo healed ol their infirmi¬ 
ties. lie could not “ send them away fasting, lest 
they should faint by the way.” Jn this dlleiumu 
what was to be done? Ho puts this question to 
hLs disciples, and they can suggest no means or 
relief. The little stock of provisions which they 
had brought with them was barely sufficient 
for themselves. They can perceive no menus 
whatever by which the multitude can bo fed, and 
they at once confess It. 
The 8avlour, however, commands the twelve to 
give them to eat. They produce their slender i 
store of provisions, amounting to five loaves and i 
two small fishes. He commands the multitude i 
to sit down by companies on the grass. As soon t 
as silence Is obtained, he lifts up his eyes to heav- 5 
en, and supplicates the blessing of God upon their 1 
scanty meal, lie begins to break the loaves and 
fishes, and distribute them to his disciples, aud 
his disciples distribute them to the multitude. He 
— continues to break and distribute. Basket after 
basket Is filled and emptied, yet the supply is uo- 
dimlnlshed. Food Is carried lu abundance to the 
famishing thousands. Company after company 
Is supplied with food, but the live loaves and the 
two fishes remain unexhausted. At last, the 
baskets are returned full, and It is announced 
that the wants of the multitude are supplied. 
The miracle then ceases, and the multlplicaton of 
food Is at an end. 
But even the provident care of the Saviour Is 
manifested. Although this food has been so 
easily provided, tt Is not right that It he lightly 
suffered to perish. Christ wrought no miracles 
for the sake of teaching men wastefulness. That 
food, by what means soever provided,was a crea¬ 
ture or God, and it were sin to allow It to decay 
without accomplishing the purpose for which It 
was created. “ Gather up the fragments,” said 
the Master of the feast. “ that nothing be lost." 
"And they gathered up the fragments that re¬ 
mained, twelve Daskets full." 
Dissimilar as are our circumstances to those of 
our Lord, we may learn from this latter incident 
a lesson of instruction. 
We can more easily maintain ourselves In the 
most difficult position,God being our helper, than 
lu apparent security relying on our own strength 
From this portion of the narrative, we may, I 
I think, learn t hat it we act In faith, and lu the 
spirit of Christian love, we may frequently be 
Justified in commencing the most Important good 
work, even when in possession of apparently In¬ 
adequate means, if the work be ot God, He will 
furnish ua with helpers as fast as they are need¬ 
ed. In ullages, God has rewarded abundantly 
simple trust. In him, and has bestowed upon It 1 he 
highest honor. We must, however, remember 
lhe conditions upon which alone we may expect 
his aid, lest we be led into fanaticism. The ser¬ 
vice which we undertake must be such as God 
has commanded, and his providence must either 
designate us for the work, or, at least, open the. 
door by which we shall enter upon It. It must 
be God’s work, and not our own; for the good of 
others, and not lor the gratification of our own 
passions; and in the doing of it, wo must, first of 
all, make sacrifice of ourselves, and not or others. 
Under such circumstances, there Is hardly a good 
design which we may not Undertake whit cheer¬ 
ful hopes of success, 1 or God has promised us his 
assistance. 
Perhaps, also, we may learn from this Incident 
another lesson. If 1 mistake not, it suggests to 
us tliat In works ot benevolence we are accustom¬ 
ed to rely too much on human, and loo little on 
Jlvlue aid. wnen we attempt n > do good, we com- 
nonce by forming large assoclat Ions, and suppose 
hat our success depends upon the number or 
nen whom we can unite lathe promotion of our 
mdertaklng. Every one Is apt thus to forget his 
>wn personal duty, and rely upon the laborer 
tthers, and it is well If no does not. put his organ- 
zatlou In the place of God htmseir. Would it, not 
>e better h we maae benevolence much more a 
natter between God and our own souLs, each one 
iqfng with his owu bauds In firm reliance on dl- 
Inu aid, the work which Providence has placed 
lrectly bolorv him ? Our Lord did not send to 
he villages round about to organize a general 
ffort to relieve the famishing, in reliance upon 
lod, he sot about the work himself, with just 
uch means as God has afforded him. All the 
tirades of beuevolence have, If I mistake not, 
een wrought In the same manner. Tho little 
aud of disciples In Jerusalem accomplished 
tore lor tue conversion of the world than ail 
le Christians of the present day united, 
nd why? Because every individual Chrls- 
an felt that the conversion of the world 
as a work for which he nimseir and not an 
jstractlon that he called the church, was 
isponslble. Instead of rtdylug on man for aid, 
Try one looked up directly to God, and went 
rth to the work, God was thus exalted, the 
>wer was confessed to be his own, and, lu a few 
^ cars, the standard of tho cross was carried to 
tho remotest extremities of thelcuown world. 
With such facts before us, we surely should be 
encouraged to attempt Individually the accom¬ 
plishment or some good design, relying In humil¬ 
ity and faith upon Hint who la able to grant pros¬ 
perity to the feeblest effort, put forth la earnest 
reliance on his almlghtlness. 
Such were the occupations that filled up a day 
lu t ho life or Jesus of Nazareth. There was not 
an act done for himself ; all was done for 01 ,here. 
Every hour was employed In the labor which t hat 
hour set before him. Private kindness, the relief 
of distress, public teaching, aud ministration to 
tho wants uf the famishing, filled up the euilro 
day. Let his disciples learn to follow his exam¬ 
ple. Let us, like film, forget ourselves, our own 
wauls, and our own weariness, that we may, as 
ho did, scatter blessings on every side, as we 
move onward In the pathway or our dally life. 
If such were the occupations ot the Sou of God, 
can wo do more wisely than to Imitate fils exam¬ 
ple? Every disciplo would then bo as a city set 
upon a hill, and men, seeing our good works, 
would gloriry our Father who is la heaven. 
“Then would our righteousness go torlli as bright¬ 
ness, and our salvation as a lamp that buruoth.” 
Temptations make 1 Christians more serviceable 
and useful to others. Nont so fit and able to re¬ 
lieve tempted souls, to sympathize ;witb tempted 
souls, to succor tempted souls, to counsel tempted 
souls, to pity tempted souls, to bear with tempted 
souls, and to comfort tempted souls as those who 
have been In tho school of temptation. 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
APRIL 27 
274 
