SEPT. 7 
573 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
E. 8. J. 
Lie® has a burden on every one’s shoulder— 
None may escape from its trouble and care; 
Miss it in youth, and ’twill ootnn when wo’re older, 
And fit us as close as the garments we wear. 
Sorrow cornea into onr Uvea uninvited. 
Bobbing our heart of its treasure of song; 
Lovers grow oold, and friendships are slighted. 
Yet, somehow or other, we worry along. 
Every-day toil i« an every-day blessing, 
Though poverty’s cottage and cruet we may share; 
Weak is the back on which hardens are pressing, 
But stout is the heart that is strengthened by prayer. 
8omehow or other, the pathway grows brighter, 
Just when we mourn there was one to befriend, 
Hope in the heart makes the burden seem lighter. 
And, somehow or other we get to the end. 
-• » » - 
THE STOEY OF A LETTER 
JUT. IA KAVANAGH. 
(Concluded from last week.) 
“ You have had a useless Journey, Nelly,” said 
Mrs. Bering, coming out to Join the pair, “ but we 
had to send for you to quiet the poor dear.” 
•< And do you really think she Is safe now, Mrs. 
Dering?” 
<■ The doctor says he Is almost sure of her, Nel¬ 
ly. And how do you like your place? Your 
mother says It Is such a 
good one.” 
Nelly anawered that It 
was a very good place 
Indeed; but she sighed 
aB she remembered Sir 
John’s warning. 
“You’ll be saving lots 
of money, and coming 
back to marry Joseph,” 
continued Mrs. Bering. 
"I hope so,” said Jo¬ 
seph, cordially. 
This Joseph was a very 
good fellow, a steady 
workman, and he adored 
Nelly, but he was not 
very bright, and Nelly 
never told him her little 
secret. So, eveu after 
Mrs. Dering left them 
and entered the cottage, 
she said nothing about 
Sir John’s warning. She 
knew what a shock it 
would be to her sick 
mother, and suppose Jo¬ 
seph should let It, out? 
Joseph was so happy to 
see his mistress again 
that he was In the high¬ 
est spirits. Ue could talk 
of nothing but, the future, 
and he could not see that 
future unless under the 
rosiest aspect. His song 
had hut one burden to 
It. Sir John’B twenty 
pounds a year, Ellen's 
savings, and wedded 
bliss. 
Nelly heard him, and 
said not a word. She 
was very glad to have 
found her mother alive 
and “safe,” as she said, 
but a darkness had come 
over her Joy. 1 ‘ Poor fel¬ 
low ! it he kuew the 
truth,” she thought, as 
she listened to him, 
“and It he knew that 
every word he utters Is 
a stab to me l” But every 
one seemed bent on fer¬ 
menting her. Mrs. Ber¬ 
ing came out again and 
extolled Nelly's place 
and salary. Little Jane, 
hearing so much about 
money, wanted to know 
what Nolly was going to 
give her; uud when the 
sick woman was able to 
Bpeak, her first words 
were an lnjunotlou on 
her daughter uot to ex¬ 
ceed her leave of ab¬ 
sence. Nelly must not 
vex Sir John on auy ac¬ 
count. She became so 
excitable on this head 
that, to pacify her, Ellen 
asked If she should go 
away by the night train. 
"Yes, you had better, 
my dear," replied her 
mother, rather eagerly 
She was as anxious to 
see her daughter depart 
as she had been to make 
her come. Nelly herself 
was not so sorry to go. 
The burden of her secret 
was too much for her. 
As she left the cottage, 
Mrs. Dering followed her 
out mysteriously. 
“Ellen," she said, “I 
have some money un¬ 
known to my husband, 
and I want poor William to have It. You Just 
take it for me, and he will call for It In a day or 
two. I can’t send It by the post." 
She slipped a little silky packet In Nelly’s hand. 
“ And do take care of It,” she whispered again, 
“for It, la four five-pound notes, Nelly.” 
Ellen hesitated. William, Mrs. Derlng's son by 
a first husband, had been bo beaten and Ill-used 
by bis stepfather that he had run away to Lon¬ 
don years before. But misfortune had followed 
him, and he was now a sickly widower with three 
little children. 
“You cannot refuse doing that for me,” said 
Mrs. Bering. 
“ No, no. Mrs. Bering, I will do It with pleasure. 
But It la such a large sum—suppose I should lose 
It.” 
“ You’ll not Lose It, NeUy; there, take It. and 
do not tell any one.” 
•• Any one ” meant Joseph, who now came up 
to escort NeUy to th e station. They walked along 
the shady lane, arm In arm, and, as they had 
plenty of time, poor things, they lingered. Nelly 
felt much depressed when they parted at the 
station, and Joseph saw It. 
“ You arc fretting about your mother,” he said. 
"I am sure she'll do , Nelly; hut I’ll be sure to 
write." 
“No,” said Nelly nervously, "no news Is good 
news—only write If she gets bad again.” 
Nelly had her reason for this. “ How should I 
hear the suspense If Sir John was out?" she 
thought. But Joseph said, a little shortly, “ Very 
well, when I write you will know it Is bad news.” 
Nelly wanted to explain, but she had no time to 
do so. The train was going to start. 
“ Make haste,” said Joseph, hurrying her away. 
“ It is only writing him a line when 1 get to 
London, ” thought NeUy. “ Poor Joe! he was 
hurt.” 
An accident which had taken place on the line 
delayed the train, no that It was nine In the 
morning when It reached the station, sir John 
lived at the other end of tne town, and It was ten 
by the time Ellen got to his house. James opened 
the door for, her, and very cross James looked. 
The poor fellow had been kept on duty almost 
the whole time she was away. 
"A pretty mess you made of it, ma’am,” he 
said, with sarcastic politeness, “ and a nice way 
poor Sir John and I have been In aU the time." 
“I have not been twenty-four hours away, 
James,” answered Ellen, “ and If you will Just let 
me go up and change my drees, I shall he down 
directly, you can tell Sir John so.” 
“ Sir John Is out," was the short reply, “ How’s 
your mother,” he added, more kindly. 
“ Mucn better, thank you." 
If NeUy bad saw “Much worse,” James would 
have been softened thoroughly, but “ Much bet¬ 
ter ” showed what ft perverse, tormenting little 
creature she had been; so he roughly bade her 
not be long; and when Ellen came down he did 
not wait till she reached the bottom of the stair¬ 
case to go out of the front door. Ellen entered 
the parlor, and went and sat down In her usual 
place. She felt giddy with fatigue, and her first 
reeling was to long for more complete rest than 
of waiting for Sir John’s letters. Suddenly she 
remembered Mrs. Bering's twenty pounds. Ellen 
rushed up-stalra like a road thing. She searched 
the clothes she had Just taken off—no trace of 
Mrs. Derlng’s money did she find. It was lost; 
that money which the poor mother had taken 
years to put by for her sick son and his three 
children was utterly lost. 
Ellen’s first feeling was one of stupor; then she 
askt d herself the usuual question: “ What am I 
to do?” 
Ellen had been ten years a servant. She had 
to help her mother and her little slater; she had 
not saved much money; fifteen pounds and ten 
BhllllngB In all. That money she must now give 
up to Mrs. Bering, and yet It would not cover her 
debt. But could Mrs. Derlng's money he really 
lost i it seemed Impossible, She searched again, 
with renewed ardor, hut the money 3he had not. 
She could not Imagine how or when It had left 
her possession—In the lame, on her way to the 
Btatlon, in tho railway carriage, or In the cab- 
that had brought her to Sir John’s door; but one 
thing was sure, she had It, and she had not got it 
now. To the rich the loss of money Is generally 
light; to the poor It Is almost always calamitous. 
In a moment all the consequences of Ellen’3 loss 
rushed to her mind; Mrs. Bering’s son must suf¬ 
fer, then Nelly herself. Adieu to many little 
comforts; adieu to love; adieu to hope Itself. 
The poor girl could not bear these thoughts. She 
flung herself on her bed and burst Into tears. 
But she was not even allowed to indulge her 
grief. The postman’s knock at the door below re¬ 
minded Nelly that in her own concerns she had 
forgotten her master’s. She flew down-stalre, 
and she reached the door JuBt as the maid was 
opening It. Mary looked anything hut charmed 
at Ellen’s hasty appearance, and, turning up her 
| nose, she said scorDfully, “Perhaps, ma’am, 
you’ll be kind enough to let me have my letter.” 
“ There Is none for you,” replied Nelly, glancing 
over the letters which the postman had put In 
her hand; “hut, oh, my goodness, there Is one 
tor me!” 
It was a letter from Joseph, with the London 
postmark. With & trem¬ 
bling hand Ellen was 
going to break the seal, 
when Mary'3 mocking 
eye fastened upon her re¬ 
minded her of her prom¬ 
ise. She had forgotten 
all about It, but she re¬ 
membered It now: she 
could not open that let¬ 
ter till she received lr 
from Sir John’s own 
hands. And Sir John 
was out; he would not 
come back till dinner¬ 
time. 
Ellen entered the par¬ 
lor and sat down, with 
the letter on her knees. 
She looked at It as surely 
letter was never looked 
at before. Within that 
square envelope lay Nel¬ 
ly’s fate: Either -Joseph 
had written to say that 
her mother had had a 
relapse — how she re¬ 
membered his words, 
“When I write, you! 
know It Is had news 1”— 
or he had despatched 
this letter, following so 
close on her steps, to tell 
her that Airs. Derlng’s 
money was safe: The 
very London postmark 
was a 6lgn, only It could 
be read either way. it 
was plain that some¬ 
thing had occurred Just 
after her departure, and 
which Joseph, on reach¬ 
ing home, had wished to 
Impart to her. He had 
evidently found some one 
going to London by the 
early morning train to 
whom he had given his 
letter that she might get 
It half a day sooner. 
Yes, all that was plain 
enough, but It helped 
her nowise to a solution 
of the mystery. Joseph 
knew nothing about Mra. 
Derlng’s money, and. as 
the lane was dark when 
he went home after part¬ 
ing from her, he could 
not possibly find four 
five-pound notes. More¬ 
over, Nelly searched her 
memory well, and she 
was sure that she had 
not ouce put her hand in 
her pocket whilst Joseph 
and she walked to the 
station. Then the letter 
could not refer to the 
money; It must be to 
tell her that her mother 
was worse, and that she, 
Nelly, must go back at 
once! 
When this thought 
came to her, Nelly’s 
hand was at once on the 
letter ready to break the 
seal, but she remem¬ 
bered her promise, aud 
she paused. What If the 
letter only referred to 
Che money ? What If It 
was only belug patient 
and doing her duty ? 
For It was her duty. Sir 
John had glveu her 
warning, but she still 
was his servant, and she 
still owed him obedience. 
She had made a promise 
which she was free to 
withhold,^but,. having 
A 
A CITIZJEHV OF MEMPHIS. 
