462 
THE RURAL HEW-YORKER 
JULY 20 
fiteranj ^tisttdang. 
ERE THE SUN GOES DOWN. 
JOSRI'HIN* BOLLARD. 
I save work enough to do 
Ere the sun goes down, 
For myself and kiodred too. 
Ere the sun goes down. 
Every idle whisper stilling. 
With a purpose firm and willing 
All my daily tasks fulfilling 
Ere the sun goes down. 
I must overcome my wrath 
Ere- the sun goes down; 
I must walk the heavenly path 
Ere the sun goes down; 
For it may he death is wending 
Hither with the night descending. 
And my life will have an ending 
Ere the sun goes down. 
I must speak the loving word 
Ere the. sun goeB down; 
I must let my voice be heard 
Ere the sun goes down t 
Every cry of pity heeding. 
For the injured interceding. 
To the light the lost ones leading 
Ere.tbe sun goea gown ! 
As I Journey on my way. 
Ere the sun goes down, 
God's command’s l must obey. 
Ere the sun goes down. 
There arc sius that need confessing. 
There are wrongs that need redressing, 
If I would obtain the blessing 
Ere the sun goes down ! 
----- - — 
MARGARET’S VI0T0RY. 
H. E. CLIFFORD. 
Of 
■< golly Rather unceremonious tor an Intro¬ 
duction. hut it was certainly expressive, coining 
from the Ups of Johnny Edwards as he burst into 
the spacious kitchen of the old homestead one 
Saturday afternoon toward the close of December, 
18 Just look at him, standing there In the center 
of the room, a ruddy-faced rough-handed farmer- 
lad of nineteen, his general appearance suggest¬ 
ing the possibility of a snow storm thereabouts. 
“ Neow .John'” cries bustling Mother Kdwaids, 
as she steps from behind the paulry door. 
“ Won’t you men folks never learn to come In 
through the shed when It storms?" and with a 
doleful glance at the shower already strewn on 
the floor she quickly marshaled him out of the 
pleasant room. 
The table Is spread for the evening meal, and 
company must be expected, for mother Edwards 
has out her wedding set of china aud her modest, 
array of silverware. 
The good farmer nas gone to the village, a few 
miles down the valley, on bis usual Saturday 
afternoon trip, and, standing at one of the win¬ 
dows, is a young girl awaiting bis return. A slen¬ 
der figure, slightly above medium bight, rich 
brown balr, falUng a wavy mass over her should¬ 
ers, a Bweet, pale face with large clear eyes, 
K ive the girl claims to beauty of no mean order. 
Margaret Marty n, for that Is her name, is an 
orphan. Ten years before, she was a little match- 
girl wandering to and fro In the busy streets of 
the'great metropolis, with scanty clothing and 
tattered shoes, and her long brown hair only a 
tangled mat about her face. Thus she. appeared 
to honest farmer Edwards, as he strode down 
Chambers Street toward the Erie depot at the 
close of a visit to the New York market with his 
yearly Lcvolce of butter and cheese, and the sight 
touched the warm-hearted man that It took 
to satisfy the farmer that It 
SO 
but brief inquiry 
would be no sin to transplant the frost--1 ten 
little daisy from this sterile atmosphere to the 
more genial climate of Ills homestead, among the 
hills of B-County. Mother Edwards remon¬ 
strated with surprise when, twenty-four hours 
later he led the trembling little wall into the 
broad kitchen, but The farmer said softly, 
“Mother! 4 Inasmuch as ye have done It unto 
one of the least nt these, ye have done- It unto 
me and It was enough. The good w ire opened 
her'heart and home to the young stranger, who 
is now the sunllgnt of the household. 
She has stood ror half an hour looking out up¬ 
on the snowu storm, and It Is a Btorm Indeed, 
whirling, dancing, tumbling down. Sitting in 
at the casement, circling round the chimneys, 
banking up the door-way, piling on the poreli- 
therelsno noisy patter on the window pane; 
no boisterous roaring of the storm-king-no fit¬ 
ful dashes and calms as if the effort were too 
great for nature’s endurance, but It falls 
•« soft and pure as an Angel's wing 
So gently shrouding everything 
Pearly, beautiful enow" 
Suddenly a restive span of grays dashes up to 
the door and Tamer Edwards unloads sundry 
mysterious bundles and budgets that bespeak 
the near approach of Christmas time, and see! 
here enters the expected guest, closely followed 
by the fanner crying “ Mother, Maggie, wlieie 
are you all. liens Nevey Elliott, my sister’s boy.’ 
And a cordial welcome “Nevey" Elliott received 
from mother Edwards, and a shy glance and 
smile from Margaret as she gave him her hand, 
when the farmer introduced her, by saying, 
“ She’S our ’dopted daughter.” Then, after 
having huug his great coat on its accustomed 
peg and deposited the fringed mittens on the 
clock, he stood warming hla hands and rubbing 
them together lu his quick, good-natured way. 
mother Edwards hustled about In eager haste 
to prepare the evening meal, and the cheerful 
“Come father, supper’s ready,” wasauswered 
by a general rally around the table. 
George Herbert KUlot, the guest Is not. a hand¬ 
some man, but tnare is something attractive In 
that full, noble brow, with the curling locks 
dark hair, brushed carelessly back, and there Is 
a good look in his large, dark eyes, but, his face 
Is a little too thin tor perfection. 
The twenty-five years of bis life (or at least 
that part of it since Uls freedom from school-day 
thraldom) bavebeeu passed In his father’s count- 
Ing-room-ono of those dingy, wholesale houses 
on Washington S'reet, New York, where from 
early morning till long after business hours, he 
labored unceasingly over the tiresome pages of 
Journal and ledger. The old rule “business be¬ 
fore pleasure” was the standard he forced him¬ 
self to follow till he begau to realize that, even 
his strong constitution was failing under the 
continued strain of nerve and brain and It took 
but little persuasion on the part of his mother, 
who with a woman's quick perception saw his 
need of rest, to induce him to take a short trip 
to his uncle’s home In the country. 
“ Well, Well! George my boy, you ain’t so little 
by a foot or two as you was when we saw you 
last,” said farmer Edwards as be rose from the 
table and led the way to the best room, then 
speaking half to himself he added “but there’s 
uc. use In living If you can’t grow somehow, not 
a bit, my boy, not. a bit.” 
Already Elliott began to feel that, he had en¬ 
tered a new atmospUere, and the change was 
alike pleasant and novel. The quaint stories of 
the old farmer, and the curious questions of 
Mother Edwards about City life, amused and In¬ 
terested him while he did ample justice to the 
nuts and apples, which, with a brimming mug of 
cider, were served by John. But the greatest 
charm of the evening was Margaret. He fancied 
that Margaret in her modest suit of gray, was 
more lovely than the belles of Fifth Avenue: 
and although he numbered among his friends 
some who were musicians, he had never 
heard the charm in their artistic productions, 
that he found in the old ballad soogs which Mar¬ 
garet sang, accompanying herself on the cottage 
organ. He did not fall in love, he had too much 
self-respect for that; but after he had been 
shown to his chamber and was comfortably 
quartered in the old-fashioned rocker before the 
open fire, enjoying his favorite Havana as he 
dreamily watched the blue rings of smoke fade 
Into space, he said to himself. “On the whole, 
1 thtuk 1 rather like my little country cousin." 
Next day was the Sabbath, Just such a Sabbath 
as so often follows a Saturday’s snow- storm-calm 
and beautiful, A blessed quiet reigned over all, 
broken only by the cackle or the plump Cocbln 
Chinas, as, pacing to and fro behind the windows 
of their tidy quarters, they bade defiance to the 
winter chill: or the shrill piping of the Bantam 
cock, whose energy makes up for all deficiency In 
size - and now and then the dull lowing of the 
cattle In the !arm-yard, or t he distant harking of 
a watch-dog. This quiet Sahbath seems to per¬ 
vade all within the Edwards homestead; the 
bountiful morning meal had been prepared and 
eaten, the house set. to rights as if by magic, the 
chapter read, the good old hymn sung, and t he 
earnest, heartfelt prayer of the farmer most rev¬ 
erently said, not forgetting to crave a blessing 
for their guest.. All this wsb new to Herbert El¬ 
liott ; It seemed a strange transition in a few short 
hours from Bedlam to Eden. 
Margaret, having finished the needful house¬ 
hold tasks, was seated by the window with an open 
book before her. She had asked Herbert the 
evening before If be liked poetry, and he, though 
admiring the standard writers, found no pleasure 
in the class of sentimental rhymes that flood the 
drawing-rooms of the city, and so had answered: 
“ I scarcely know, Miss Martyn. I have very lit¬ 
tle leisure to enjoy 1 , and then, you know, poetry, 
to be appreciated, must be heard or read aloud, 
aud 1 have no companion.” Now, as he entered 
the room, she extended her hand, saying, 
u Come , cousin Herbert, let me be your companion 
while we read some poetry.” Advancing to her 
side, he saw she held a copy of Whittier, and, 
turning to 44 Snow-bound,” she said: “Now, 1 
will read, and as you listen, look from the win¬ 
dow, and tell me If It Is not a glorious description 
of the scene before us.” He bad often read the 
lines before, yet he never fully realized their 
beauty till his eye wandered over the snow-ciad 
landscape wtolle she read In a low sweet voice. 
It would be difficult to guess how long he would 
have remained lost In day-dreams, had not the 
spell been broken by Margaret, whose quick ears 
caught tho sound of the village church bells, soft 
and°clear In tbe distance, calling tae thoughts 
from created beauties to the .praise of the Cre¬ 
ator ; and when, half an hour later, John drove to 
the door with the long red sleigh, all were ready 
to step In. The farmer, with Ida great-coat but¬ 
toned to the chin, cheerily helped mother Ed¬ 
wards to the front seat, and Insisted on seating 
Herbert, or George, as he would always call him, 
beside Margaret 
The ride, though short, gave time for a slight 
Interchange of thought which our young friends 
did not neglect, and It is to be feared the whole¬ 
some teachings of the good old clergyman did not 
meet with the usual appreciation from Margaret 
on this pleasant Sahbath morning, for other 
thoughts claimed her attention. The waters 
were being drawn from the deep-hidden well of 
the soul and spreading a fresh verdure over all 
her life. 
“ Two tides of tlm infinite ocean, 
That chafeih the shores of Time, 
Two waves of the pas>ionute sea of life. 
Have minded tlieir mystic, rhyme— 
And the holy music jmes echoing up 
To the peacelul courts above, 
And the soi g is a song with an old retrain. 
Aud the rhyme is a rhyme of love.” 
To Margaret there was something sacred In 
this companionship of thought and heart. Al¬ 
though sue had kind friends ever near, and a 
pleasant home wltU the comforts and luxuries of 
life at her command, there was still something 
lacking In her life. It could not be admiration or 
praise, for these she received at every turn; aud 
could It be love ? Why! did Dot honest John Ed¬ 
wards love her, to use hts own expression, “ like 
all tarnation," and there was William L-. who 
told her only last summer, that “ for her sake 
alone ” he cared to live, and more than that, did 
not the handsome, young editor of the village 
Gazette whisper softly to her that his 44 best arti¬ 
cles” were written when thinking of her, surely 
here was love. What more could the heart of 
any woman wish? 
Margeret had treasured up all these experiences 
In her memory and thought over them, but not 
with quite the same Interest that was awakened 
one evening when Elliott and she were reluming 
from a skating expedition, that had brought the 
ruddy glow to her cheeks and a merry sparkle to 
her eyes. Herbert took both her hands in his as 
they stood in the moonlight, saying, “Little Coz, 
you are so pretty I can’t help liking you, and you 
are so good I can’t, help loving you;” then, hesi¬ 
tating a moment, he softly added, "May I love 
you, Marjte?” There was a quick, timid glance 
at his face and a little quiver of the Ups, and In a 
moment she was gathei ed lo his arms. Mr. El¬ 
liott still held her hands as they walked on, 
and, In fact, conducted himself in such a lover- 
llke manner during the remainder of his visit, 
that nothing but our knowledge of his previous 
resistance to all attacks of cupId would prevent 
one suspectiug It of being realty a case of love, 
whlcb, of course, no one would believe of the 
sedate Herbert Elliott. 
Time, which tradition says waits for no man, 
decllued to tarry even for Herbert Elliott’s 
pleasute, and so the limit of a montlYs visit was 
reached, 
10 was the evening before Elliott’s return, to the 
weary routine of city life, and be had retired to 
his chamber early, to hold another of those solilo¬ 
quies, induced by an easy-ehalr and a favorite 
cigar, in the charm of the fire light- More than 
once during the past week he had sat thus for 
hours, while a struggle was going on in ht3 heart. 
Whenever he thought of Marjle (by her request 
he called her Marjte Instead of Margaret since the 
evening of the skating party), and every time he 
thought of her and spoke the name softly to him¬ 
self, something seemed to say, *• Herbert Elliott, 
you love that little woman, and canuoo be happy 
without her,” and as ofteu he would strive to 
crush such thoughts; but this night they came 
with unusual earnestness, and for a long time he 
allowed himself to picture a future of radiant aud 
bright possibilities,—then, recollecting the stern 
realities of life, he put away the tempting visions 
Baying, 44 No! I have no right to bind the guile, 
less heart by any vows, before It. has learned that 
there are souls more noble, and lives more true 
than mine nas been. Other men Will love, per¬ 
haps. as fondly, and offer fortunes more ample 
and nearts less blighted by the world than mine. 
The strongest proof of love Is sacrifice, and while 
It would be a stronger Incenttva to actlou than I 
have ever known, to feel that the hope and hap¬ 
piness of this young lire were In my keeping, I 
will ask no troth, for, God knows, 
*• I’d rather weop to see thee free, 
Thau win thee, to destroy.” 
No! Marjle,—though your image lseugraven on 
my heart, and the blessing of your Influence will 
be ever present with tne, there shall be no pledge 
till I have proved more worthy of the trust, and, 
if meantime another wins your love, no one shall 
ever know that Herbert Elliott has loved and lost; 
but If we meet again, and you are free, and still 
have faith In me, then—but I forget the thousand 
mischances that He between—the strange, wild 
currents In life’s sea are uncertainty Itself. There 
Is but one plain path before you, Herbert Elliott; 
it is to he a true man worthy of such a prize. It 
is enough that God knows your love, your hopes 
your fears; the future ts wlr.h Him, and 4 Hedoeth 
all things well.’” 
This logic governed the conduct of Herbert next 
morning, when, with a deUcato tenderness, he 
turned from the hearty “Good-bye” of mother 
Edwards, aud taking Margaret’s hand said, "Id 
not forget you, Cousin Margie. I’ll write to you 
sometimes, and It you’ll send me word when the 
daisies blossom, and the strawberries begin to 
ripen, pernaps i’ll come again." There was a 
slight pressure of the trembling hand, a quick 
glance into her eyes, and he was gone. 
Farmer Edwards remarked at dinner, 44 It seems 
wrong to see George’s chair emptyand mother 
declared, “ He seemed as much a son as John.’ 
Which affectionate comparison the aforesaid John 
considered a great Insult and heartily hoped, 
“ The feller had got enough country to last him 
ten years,” but Marjle said nothing. 
Thus tho days and weeks and months passed, 
and the visit of Herbert EUlott was remembered 
only by an occasional remark In the Edwards 
family, unless a deeper memory remained wltn 
Margaret. __ 
Guile often there came to the village post-ofti.e a 
letter addressed In a bold, plain band to, “ Miss 
Margaret M. Martyn.” At first thby came In 
large business envelopes, printed across tbe end: 
"Return to Elliott & Co., Wholesale Grocers, 
No._ Washington Street, N. Y.;” and It was 
amusing to see bow deliberately the old post¬ 
master would turn them around and read this 
and then give Marjio such a reproachful look over 
his spectacles when he handed it out to her; but 
as time passed they came In neat little white en¬ 
velopes, bearing a monogram In blue and gold 
which looked strangely like “E. A M," hut of 
course was not, for that would have been veiy 
suggestive. , 
The blowy days of March have given pUce to 
showery April; these in turn aw fouowed by tho 
flowers of May, and even May la almost spent. 
Mother Edwards Bays she “Can’t imagine what 
makes the girl go walking In the south meadow so 
often now-a-days.” A random guess would be that 
she was watching the strawberries; at least she 
came back one day with a triumphant gleam In 
her eye and a stem of ripened berries In her band, 
and there was a light to nor chamber that night 
till after twelve o’clock, and lying before her is 
a small white envelope addressed to “ G. Herbert 
Elliott, Esq., No. - Washington Street, New 
York.” 
» Woodsidk Farm, May —, 18T.” 
Cousin Herbert: —The daisies are to blossom, 
and the strawberries are ripe; 
will you come? 
Mar .i ib.” 
That was all. 
Next morning Margaret rode to the village with 
the farmer to do some shopping, but for some 
cause she seemed to forget about it when there, 
and did none except to purchase a few yards of 
ribbon for her hair, of the shade Herbert used to 
admire; but where was the wonderful letter? 
she has taken It to the depot, and when the train 
arrived, placed It to the hands of the gentlemanly 
postal-agent saying. In a timid, pleading way, 
“ Please, sir, do not delay It.” Then she was 
ready to return home and—wait. 
Just, at dusk, three days after, a quick rap at 
farmer Edwards’ door announced the arrival of 
a guest, who proved to be none other than Her¬ 
bert EUlott. 
“ Unexpected, but, always welcome,” mother 
Edwards said, and secretly she wondered why 
Marjle was not as much snrprlsed as the rest, of 
the family. 
It was “ only a flying trip,” he said, 4 to see if 
they were all well," and while he no doubt felt 
some Interest to the family, he certainly spent 
very little time to looking after their welfare, and 
devoted himself almost, constantly to Marjte. 
Every day he would be seized by a sndden desire 
to visit tbe lake, or the strawberry meadow, or 
some pleasure resort, to tho vicinity, and It. gener¬ 
ally occurred—by accident, of course—that he 
chose a tune when the rest of the family were too 
busy to go, and therefore Miss Marjle must he Ills 
companion. 
One Sabbath afternoon they had been singing 
and talking together till sunset; then mother 
Edwards ml 3 sed them, and, marching out ou the 
porch, where the farmer sit dozing In bis easy 
chair, with his glasses nearly slipped from hts 
nose, and the family Bible open upon bis knees— 
she placed her arms akimbo—a position only as- 
su med on very extraordinary occasions—and said: 
“ Now, look here, Henry Edwards, if that, nevey 
of yourn’ has any notion I’m goto ’ to seo him 
coaxln’ our Marg’et right -away from us In this 
style, and not tell my opinion on It, he’s mightily 
fooled.” 
“Tut, tut! Mother, don’t be foolish, now," said 
the good farmer, as he gently took her hand and 
led nerb ick to the west window, then parting the 
screeu of honeysuckles, ho pointed to the lovers, 
as they walked hand to hand across the lawn to 
their favorite seat under the maples, and said: 
“Doyou forget, Mary, when we, too, walked the 
same path to the twilight?” and as she looked, 
her head sank upon his shoulder, wUU© an expres¬ 
sion of tenderness came Into the laded eyes, and 
she forgot her auger In a tide of olden memories 
that came over her, laden with scenes from hei 
own younger days, and she answered, slowly: 
*• That was a long time ago, Henry." 44 But have 
you ever been sony ?” he usked; and her answer 
was a loving pressure of t he toll-worn hand and a 
kiss on the wrinkled cheek, that for fifty years 
had known the salutation of no other lips; then, 
blushing with confusion, 6he hastened away. 
Marjle Us seated In a rustic chair, and Her¬ 
bert by her side. Betiding over her, he said: 
“Marjle, all the beauty and brightness of this 
world to me, and all my hopes for the future, rest 
on your answer; Is It. yes, or no?” A low - mur¬ 
mured “yes,” and he took from his pocket a Httle 
casket, which on opening, disclosed a slender 
ring—a diamond supported by two hearts—and, 
placing it ou her finger, he whispered: “Darling, 
mine at last,” as hu knelt to lmpi tot the first kiss 
of betrothal on her virgin brow. 
Next morning tUerc waa auotUfcr farewell on 
the front porch of the homestead, but It was 
slightly different from the scene six months be¬ 
fore, and mother Edwards, with a watch ml care 
toward the futare, dropped a few well-directed 
hints, that the Idea of her ever giving up her 
“ Marge’t" was preposterous to the extreme. 
October has arrived, and at the Edwards’ 
farm everything seems cheery and home-like 
The tea-kettle sings merrily on the stove in 
kitchen, and the table Is spread to the cool 
the 
lies 
9 hade of the porch, the great Maltese cat 
stretched full length to the open window, and the 
canary hops gayly about his Gothic cage; but 
there la a cloud on Marjie's brow ! her face Is sad, 
and the firm Ups are compressed as If to smother a 
groan. Those letters, with the New York post¬ 
mark, have been irregular of late, aud none at all 
for two weeks past; and tile last ones were so 
cold aud forced—so filled with business—the state 
of the markets or the depression of stocks, and 
such matters as she could not understand; be¬ 
sides, Lhere is a new sorrow to-day. It is Marjle s 
birthday—eighteen to-day,—and Herbert prom¬ 
ised on that June evening, under the maples, to 
pass this day with her, aud now the day Is almost 
gone, with the promise unfulfilled; but listen! 
there Is a tootrtall on the porch; can that he 
Herbert? It 18, but how changed 1 he looks five 
years older than when we saw him last; there Is 
a wild, uneasy light, to his dark eyes, and while 
he greets Marjte cordially, he does not meet her 
ga 2 e with tiie full, frank look of old; he seems ab- 
Ktractcd, falls Into reveries, and starts up sudden¬ 
ly, looking around as If ho thought. Borne one was 
watching him. Ills Interest to the quaint, old 
songs seems lost, and tho Interviews with Mar- 
11$ lire always Jiurrtod, Sometimes lie spends 
nearly all night, writing— 4 * business of Import¬ 
ance,” he says, and once he was gone all the day 
and evening, and returned, acting more strangelj 
than ever; and, before a week had passed, a tele- 
grurn recalled him to New York, and left such an 
aching void to Marjie’s heart as she had never 
known before* 
Through the dreary weeks that followed, them 
came occasional letters from Herbert; but they 
were short and disconnected, seemingly written 
more as a duty than a pleasure. - [Concluded 
next week. 
