su 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
©EC. 24 
“ Has any one cold you, Sir Owen, that Violet 
Haye Is engaged to marry Felix Lonsdale 7” And 
the Baronet’s answer had been a muttered curse. 
He had believed himself In such a lofty position 
that ho could do as he liked without comment, 
bat he found It was not so. The girl whom he 
was so mad y pursuing, whom he had sworn to 
win, come what might, was engaged to another 
man, and people would make their own com¬ 
ments about the matter. So he reasoned and 
argued with himself—and to himself his ideas 
eeem6d excellent—that honor was simply a dead 
letter—It did not exist; It waB a virtue to be sub¬ 
ordinated to convenience—a promise was mere 
empty words, with no meaning, and he consoled 
himself by trying to believe that he was doing 
good rather than harm. That Violet would ulti¬ 
mately refuso him he did not for one moment be¬ 
lieve. No woman, he argued, could be proof 
against such temptations as he offered. 
This was the day on which he had promised to 
take violet and her parents back to the Limes. 
He was very unwilling to let them go. “ They 
will have that handsome young lawyer about 
the place again, and all t he good I have done will 
be undone,” ho said. 
But Mrs. Haye was even more worldly-wise 
than himself—she declined to spend another eve¬ 
ning there. He had ordered a dainty luncheon 
to be prepared for them In a charming little ante¬ 
room known as the Star Room—It bore that name 
because It was one blaze of light, through the 
number ot Its mirrors, girandoles ami Lusters. 
When the sun came through the eastern window, 
and llghtod It, the effect was something magnifi¬ 
cent, If he had hoped to dazzle them with a 
fresh exhibition of his wealth, he had most cer¬ 
tainly chosen the right way, 
Tlio lunoheon was laid on the table, elabo¬ 
rately spread with handsome plate, rare wine, 
costly fruit—every luxury that could gladden 
the heart 01 man. When Sir Owen sat down 
with them, Mr. Haye expressed his regret at 
leaving so magnificent and hospitable a house, 
ills host looked up with a slight laugh—a keen 
observer would have seen that he was agitated. 
“I am glad you like the place,” he said. “I 
have beau asking your daughter to remain here.” 
A warning fcnich from Ms wife told Francis 
liaye that ha was to remain silent. She looked 
at aud addressed Sir Owen. 
**I do not understand you; how could Violet 
remain here without us?” 
“As my wife, Mrs. Haye; If she will only con¬ 
sent. Garawood aud Its master, with all that It 
contains, shall he hers.” 
Mrs, Haye rose slowly and drew her shawl 
round her shoulders. 
“ You are very kind, Sir Owen.” she said dryly, 
“and I am sure that. Violet must be quite flattered 
by your generous offer; but—she has promised, 
I believe, to marry Felix Lonsdale." 
•• That promise should not bind her,” ho orled 
eagerly; “ It was won from her under false pre¬ 
tences. It will be a crying shame If you allow 
her to Keep It.” 
“So I think,” said Mrs. Haye, a& she drew on 
her gloves; "but 1 am quite powerless In the 
matter.” Nor would she hear another word. 
She hastened their departure, aud Sir Owen left 
his other guests to drive them home. 
In this case as lu others Mrs. Haye showed her- 
seir to be a woman ot more than ordinary Intelli¬ 
gence. An average woman would Instantly have 
taken Sir Owen’s part —would have done her 
utmost to Induce her daughter to break her 
promise—would have railed against Foilx. Mrs. 
Hire was far too wise—to take that course would 
be to confirm Violet in keeping uer word. She 
uulerstood women—3he knew that, If she op¬ 
posed her, Violet would take refuge In making 
hers if an Interesting martyr; whereas, It she 
aul her husband remained passive, and allowed 
her to see just what, she might have and what bUo 
might lose, Mrs. Haye had no doubt of the result. 
Sir Owen remained at the Limes with them an 
hour or two, and it was Mrs. Haye who reminded 
him that his guests were waiting. 
“ i do not care lor my guests," he said—"I care 
only for you. It you will not go back with me 
you must let me slop here;” and she had great 
difficulty in persuading him to go. 
Not one word about Sir Owen was said to Violet 
after his departure. 
“ Leave It all to me, Francis.” said Mrs. Haye to 
her husband; " If you luterfere you will mar all. 
Leave It to me, and do not utter a single word." 
He obeyed, well pleased to have no responsi¬ 
bility In the matter—he did not like the Idea of a 
broken promise. 
Violet had expected expostulations, reproaches, 
persuasion. Sue could hardly realize the silence; 
then she came to the conclusion that her parents 
must have thought that Sir Owen was Joking, 
and her dignity was somewhat wounded at the 
notion. 
Later on lu the evening Felix came, and she 
saw that ho looked anxious, worn and haggard. 
Mrs. Haye had never received him more kindly. 
Mr. Haye was tired, and had gone to his own 
room. Mrs. Haye made Felix sit down with 
them, and began to talk to him about bis lather, 
his family. Hie business, and his prospects. 
The simple, noble-hearted young fellow opened 
his whole heart to her; he told her all his sorrow 
and distress about Ills father—now he had bsen 
out, and had met some one who had spoken to 
him harshly In reapeotof the will case, and the 
consequence had been a Bevere relapse. 
“The fact Is,” said Felix, "that my father Is 
breaking bis honest heart, Mrs. Haye.” 
•* It is very sad," she returned—" very sad and 
very hopeless.” 
“Yes—It la almost hopeless," agreed Felix; 
" It seems as though tho very sprlug of his life 
were gone. I know what would be tho only thing 
to cure him. It would be If all his fellow towns¬ 
men—all ills old frleafls—imet together and did 
something to prove that, they had confidence la 
nun; something or mat kina, proving to him 
that he is respected and esteemed, would be the 
only way to cure him.” 
“And that will never happeD, of course,” said 
Mrs. Haye. 
“I am afraid not; but It Is the only thing to 
B.ive him. Dear Mrs. Haye, you are very good to 
listen to me—I ought not to bring my troubles 
here.” 
Mrs. Haye looked kindly at him. 
“Ot course,” she said. “If he gets no better, 
the maintenance of the whole family will fall 
upon you, Felix 7” 
“Yes," he replied,It will tall upon me; I can¬ 
not desert them—I must work for my mother 
and the little ones." 
“ in that case, my poor boy," she asked, “ what 
will you do with a wire ?" 
He knelt down by Violet’s side, and took her 
hand In his; he kissed It with a passlou that 
could not be told. 
“What shall 1 do with a wife?” he cried* 
“ Ask me rather what I shall do without one. 
My wife will be my haven, my rest, my hope, my 
refuge—will give me courage and hope and forti¬ 
tude; she will give strength to my mlud, my 
heart., my brain; my wife will be the whole world 
to me." 
“Yes," agreed Mrs. Haye gently; "but, Felix, 
how are you to keep her? How Is she to live? 
You could not take a wife home to Vale House, to 
an invalid father, a step mother, and all thOBe 
children.” 
"No; I should make a home of my own.” he 
replied. “ Ah, you do not know how I love Violet 
—how I Bhould work—how I should toll day aud 
night for her I I must keep both homes." Then 
he looked up into Violet’s rice. “ You would help 
me, my darling, would you not? You would dis¬ 
pense with luxuries for a time—onty for a time ? 
You would be the nerve ot my arm, l he strength 
of my soul. You love me enough to help me over 
a few troublesome years, and then for tune will 
smile on me. You love me enough for that, Bweet 
heart 7" 
" Yes, I love you," she whispered. 
Mrs. II a} c rose from her seat aud said she must 
go to her hushaud. She lelt Felix kneeling at 
her daughter'll Icet; when she was gone he burled 
his lace in tne silken folds ot Violet’s dress; he 
kissed her hands, he called her by overy endear¬ 
ing name. 
“It lias seemed to me like an eternity,” he said. 
“ oh, Violet, Bweet. you must never go away from 
me for three days again 1 Every hour has seemed 
a year long. Let me look into your eyes, and see 
11 you love me a3 you did when you went.” 
“ Tee, just as much,” she said. 
" And all the luxury, the pleasure, the admira¬ 
tion, have not robbed me of one beat of your 
heart V’ 
" No, not one,” she replied. 
" Oh, true heart—oh, dearest love, how Heaven 
has blessed me In giving you to me 1 How selfish 
it seems of me to have brought my troubles here 
to you, just as you bavo come rrom such a bright 
world 1” 
"1 have a right to bear your troubles," she 
said; but her eyes dropped half sadly before Uls. 
She said to lieraelf, “ Dear Heaven, how will It 
end ?” 
“You are all the world to me I" he orled, pas¬ 
sionately. " I have but you, Violet. It seems to 
me all a blank where you are not. I work for 
oihers, and I love them; but you, my wife that Is 
to be, are my hope and my refuge; you are the 
Bun of my life—without you— 
She laid her hand gently on bis llpe. 
Wo will not talk of that,” she said; and once 
more, with all the deep passion of his heart, he 
kissed the silken folds ot her dress—the sweet 
hands—the tresses of golden hair. 
“My love Is a garment that enfolds you, 
sweet.” he said. "Tho ground on which you 
Bland Is sacred to me; the breeze that kisses your 
face Is sacred too. 1 would inako my love a 
shield and a buckler for you. oh, violet, It Is al¬ 
most a terrible thing for a man to love a woman 
ns l love youl Will you tell me now about the 
file y Did not every one envy me ? And tell me, 
my darling, did you keep me lu your memory ?” 
Then came to her the memory ot Larch Hill 
and the fiery temptation she had battled with 
there; but she answered him- 
“ Yes, 1 remembered you the whole time;” and 
he clasped her in hts arms.—[To be continued. 
THE UPAS TREE. 
W. FALCONER. 
Most people have read of the deadly Upas tree 
of the Indian Archipelago, and the story that 
neither animal nor vegetable can live In its awful 
presence. But that Is a false Blatement. The 
Upas tree ts indigenous to the forests of the Pbll- 
llplnes, Java, and neighboring islands, where It 
attains a bight of from 70 ba no teet. It. Is shaped 
somewhat like a lanky umbrella—with a tall, 
naked and rather slender trunk, surmounted by a 
thick crown of horizontally disposed branches, 
that are densely furnished with laurel-shaped 
leaves, wbloh, together with the young ehoots ( 
are covered with rusty hairs. Birds and other 
animats got lulo Its branches with apparent 
impunity, ahd Us proximity to the dwellings of 
man has no evil effect whatever. Nevertheless 
the tree Is vlruteutly poisonous. The tree when 
pierced exudes a milky Juice, which, mixed with 
certain other Ingredients, Is used by the Malays 
as arrow-poison, aDd most fatal U Is to any 
animal It BtrlkeB. 
The Upas tree belongs to the same group of 
plants as do tho Bread Fruits, which are bo 
highly prized tor their rrult and timber, and so 
extensively cultivated both in the East and West 
Indies. 
The following fabulous story In connection with 
the Upas tree Is told : Some S>0 years ago, Dr. 
Foersch, a Dutch (Uolland) surgeon, living in 
Java, described the tree as growing In a desert 
with no other plant near it lor a dozen miles, be¬ 
cause tho exhalations It emitted so contaminated 
the atmosphere that neither plant nor animal 
could approach nearer to the Upas without suffer¬ 
ing the penalty of immediate dfath. He also 
speaks of crlmlnalscondemned to die, being given 
the alternative of being executed or of going to 
the Upas tree to collect some poison, when, if 
they returned alive, they were pardoned. Though 
furnished with cverypreoautlon, only an average 
of one In ten returned. On account of civil dls- 
sentlons some 1,000 people were compelled to re¬ 
side within fourteen miles uf the Upas trees, and 
In less than two months only 200 remained alive 
“ There are no flsh in the waters, nor has any 
rat, mouse or any other vermin been seen there; 
and when any birds fly bo near this tree that the 
effluvia reaches them they fall a sacrifice to the 
effeots of the poison." These and many other ri¬ 
diculous stories, as false as they are novel, have 
been circulated at the expense of the Upas t ree. 
In the face of all these absurd stories not only Is 
the pol3on sought after and u-ed, but even the 
fiber of tho bark of lire tree Is mode Into cloth by 
the natives. And It Is asserted, that the flesh or 
animals killed by Upas poison may be eaten with 
perfect Bafety. 
The foundation for many of these fahles, how¬ 
ever, consists In the existence In Java of certain 
low valleys connected with the many voloanoes 
of the Island, whose atmosphere Is so charged 
with carbonic acid gas emitted from crovtces In 
the ground, as to destroy animal and vegetable 
life. And the Upas tree can no more exlstln such 
places than can other trees. 
When I was engaged In the Royal Botanic Gar¬ 
dens at Kew, one ot the foremen was relating to 
us the ridiculous btorh s ol the Upas. Before that 
Mine, however, the Upas and I had been old ac¬ 
quaintances; consequently, I told him that such 
stories wore glunug falsehoods, and In proof of 
my assertion 1 bared my breast, plucked a leaf 
off ot the Upas tree beside us aud kept It for 
several minutes close to nay sklD, find 1 em living 
still! Had 1 been sweating copiously at the time 
I would not have done it, and I was careful not to 
let the milky Juice touch my breast; but I took 
no precautions against my hands. 
There is a Upas tree in most botanic gardens, 
and they are handled, cleaned, watered, moved 
about aud repotted with seeming indifference. 
We have one here (Cambridge, Mass.,) and on Us 
account 1 often wish Americans were as super¬ 
stitious aa Malays—but they are not. No sooner 
do their eyes catch tho name ot the Upas tree 
than they step to examine, ask a few preliminary 
questions, and then "Could you not spare me 
Just one leaf 7” And not till It Is carefully rolled 
up In paper or handkerchief do they ask: “Do 
you think It will poison mo ?’’ I sometimes wish 
they would ask that, question before the loaf Is 
plucked, but they never do. 
-- 
A TRIUMPH OF ART. 
On the Peacock Island In Potsdam we And 
among the white marble statues an Image of Ra¬ 
chel, the celebrated French tragedienne, placed 
there In memory of her triumph over a monarch 
who had been by no meant friendly disposed 
towards Uer. We mean Nicholas, emperor of 
Russia, whose dislike to her had been caused by 
her republican sympathies and turbulent senti¬ 
ments, which he abhored, and on account of 
whioh he hadprohlbltcd her entrance Into Russia; 
he Is even known to h&vo said that ho wished 
never to have set eyes on her. This Inolement 
verdict of the powerful monarch was no small 
stumbling block in t he great tragodlenno’s way, 
rorRussia Is amine otgold; foreign artists and 
many a Rachel and Patti of our days might re¬ 
late wonderful, almost fabulous tales of costly 
gems raining down upon them on tho stage amid 
th9 enthusiastic ohoers of an enchanted audience. 
Therefor3, Mile. Rachel was highly pleased 
when In the summer ot 1832 she received an. lnvl- 
tatlon to act before the court at Potsdam, where 
the Emperor Nicholas was just then staying as 
the king of Prussia’s guest. The tamo us actress 
had been desired to recite so vend scenes from 
Frenoh playB, but neither In costume nor lu com¬ 
pany of other actors. She, thererore, arrived 
attired in black, the most costly lace covorlug her 
beautiful arms and shoulders; but the gentleman 
who, by the king’s orders, was at the station to 
receive her, expressed his doubts whether the 
royal and imperial party would not object to so 
melancholy and mournful au upparol; and on 
reaching the palace the artiste was kindly Invited 
by the late Princess Charles (sister to the Em¬ 
press Augusta and wife of the emperor’s brother) 
to wear a few gayer-looklug things of her own. 
Such an offer could not be refused, and Mile. 
Rachel appeared In the garden adorned with 
roses. On Inquiring for the stage, she was told 
that there was none erected, and that she was 
expected to stand on a grass plot In front of tho 
seats of her noble audleuce. This demand roused 
her quick temper, so that she was on the point or 
returning to Berlin, when her official attendant, 
the above-mentioned gentleman, pacified her by 
remarking that she would bo on the same level 
with theaudh'oco; that her art would prove the 
greater for the want of any stage apparatus 
and (last, but not toast) ho rorulndod her of how 
muoh was at stake—ail euormous honorarium 
and peihaps the repeat of that fatal Interdiction. 
Altera momeut’s hesitation aud a struggle with 
herself, Mile. Rachel took her cicerone’s arm and 
suffered him to lead her to the spot destined tor 
her performance. 
The evening was lovely; the moon, half hidden 
behind a group of poplars, threw her silvery light 
on the pond and the gently murmuring fountain. 
A few torches and lights 111 umlnated the face of 
the artiste, while the court 8 it lu tho shadow'. 
Deep silence ensued upon her appearance—one 
could hear tho crickets chirp—and then she be¬ 
gan her orations. The listeners Boomed spell¬ 
bound, that was not human epoeeb, It was music 
dropping rrom her Ups. She was determined to 
bo irresistible; aud she succeeded so well that 
even the hitherto unfriendly emperor himself, 
won by her art, rose from his seat when she had 
ended, and meeting her half way, kissed her 
hand In presence of the assembled court, assur¬ 
ing her that henceforth she would be welcome in 
Russia. 
What were the praises, flatteries and congratu¬ 
lations of the others viho were crowding round 
tho happy artiste, compared to the homage ren¬ 
dered to her by the mighty ruler of Europe’s 
vastest country—the monarch from whom a sign 
ordered thousands of his subjects to bo or not 
to be ? 
Thus was one of the greatest autocrats In Eu¬ 
rope won over by the acting and elocution of—a 
woman.— [Chamber's Journal. 
-» - »♦ — - - 
Pauperism and Extravagance.— The case, pri- 
ma facto, ts always against a pauper. The acci¬ 
dents of life sometimes cast a man or a woman 
high and dry upon tho sands of a helpless pov¬ 
erty; but usually pauperism comes through a 
lack ot the prudential virtues. It Ib not always 
that a pauper wastes his revenues In drink, or 
other immoralities; but somewhere In his career, 
forty-nine times in fifty, it will be found that he 
has been extravagant; that he has not exercised 
solf-denlal under temptation; that he has lived 
up to or beyrnd his means, or has ventured upon 
risks that tho lowest grade of business prudence 
would condemn. Now who is to bear the penalty 
of these sins and mistakes 7 How are they to be 
prevented In tuture, If those who commit, them, 
regardless or consequenoes, are to be coddled and 
taken care of toy thoso who have denied them¬ 
selves and laid up a little woelth 7—A Wbner's. 
-♦♦A- 
MAGAZINES. 
Scribner for Januarv.— The paper on Old 
Maryland Manners, by F. 13. Mayer or Annapolis, 
is an Interesting reproduction of the quaint and 
stately tlmeshf the Maryland Gazette, and of tho 
Tuesday Club, to the whims and oddities of which 
considerable space Is devoted. The Tile Club at 
Work, by W. F. Laffan, describes the methods of 
an association of artists ami others, whose work 
speaks lor Itself In the illustrations, which in¬ 
clude drawings by E A. Abbej (allied mantel¬ 
piece), W. M. OUase, Uopklnsm Smith, Winslow 
Homer, Alden Weir, Reinhart, Quartley, Wlm- 
brldge, Laffan and Paris, and a tile in relief by 
O’Donovan, tho Eculplor. A companion paper, 
The Tile Club at Play, is to appear In the Mid¬ 
winter number, with a large variety of Illustra¬ 
tions. 
Tho serious side of the holiday season is touched 
upon by the longest contribution lu the number, 
a paper on Leonardo da Vinci, by Clarence Cook, 
who considers his subject as both painter and 
mechanical Inventor. Among the curs arc two 
Important blocks by Cole; ilia well-known Last 
Supper, and the Head of Christ, suppoied to be a 
study for Its central figure. The Mona Lisa, by 
Henry Marsh, Is considered to be one of tho tinest 
blocks. There la also a Christmas ballad, Blorn 
the Bold, by Constantluu E. Brook*, with a largo 
drawing by Mrs. Mary Halloolc Foote, which opens 
the number, other Illustrated papers are The 
Mountain Lakes of California, by John Muir, 
author of The Wild Storm, Douglas Squirrel, etc., 
with drawings by Thomas Mnrati; and At tho 
Old BuU’b Head, by C. C. Buel, a picturesque 
description of the famous cattlo and horse mar¬ 
ket of Now York, with sketches by Kelly and 
Mubrman. Haworth’s contains a humorous scene 
from the Brlarloy family and the plot is rapidly 
carried on. 
Ot the unillustrated matter there are two 
stories: Century Plants, by Miss Isabella T. 
Hopklna, light nnd fanciful; and NIon, by Miss 
Annie Porter, a pathetic story of New Orleans. 
Tho sixth Installment ot Boyesen’s Falconberg; 
papers on College Hazing, by C. F. Thwing : and 
The Amendment to tho Patent Law, by the Sec¬ 
retary of the Western H. R. Association; and Mr. 
Bayard Taylor's Eplo&dlurn, on the death of Bry¬ 
ant,—are iHbo given, other poetry la by R. R. 
Bowker, Amanda T. Jones, llie late Richard 
Reair, and R. W. Glider. 
in his department, Dr. Holland discusses Re¬ 
ligion In these Days, Art as a Steady Diet, and 
Popular Despotisms, Mis. Oakey’B Hints to Young 
Housekeepers are continued in Home and .So¬ 
ciety, the Bpectal topics being tho engagement, 
treatment and duties of servants. Culture and 
Progress oontalns, besideR the reviews, a paper 
on tho Second Loan Exhibition, with suggestions 
ot Interest, to those who may wish to organize 
similar projects Lu smaller cities. The World's 
Work department Is especially Interesting, and 
among the appliances described are a wonderful 
Maoblno for Measuring Plano Surfaces, a New 
Electric Lamp (others to be described hereatter), 
Hydraulic Fire-Escapes, New insulated Tele¬ 
graph Wire, etc., etc. Brlc-a-Brac Is fanciful, hu¬ 
morous and satirical. 
Dkmorest's Magazine for January 1879 appears 
In a now dress, aud wonderfully pretty and ap¬ 
propriate It Is too. A full-page Illustration lu oil, 
entitled Something for Ou ornaments tho first 
page; this is followed by a tac simile of an etch¬ 
ing by P. P. ltubeDS. First stops (a full-page cut) 
aud Illustrations of fashions In costumes, Jewelry 
aad fancy caps, complete the pictorial part of the 
number. There arc two (serial stories and seven 
Bhort ones. Thou thero arc some Interesting 
sketches about Higher Education and New Year 
In Japan. The EJUorimn lias a word to say 
about Oburch Fairs, Etching, Making Home 
Pleasant, Cotoitry Kettledrums, A Few Words 
About Toys, De-corative Novelties, Afternoon 
Teas, New Year’s Receptions, Winter Readings 
What Women arc Doing. Then there are the 
Kitchen, under which bead new and palat- 
ablo recipes are given—and Domestic Science, 
where one may learn how to treat the various 
ailments which fall to the lot ot mortala. All 
this la exclusive of tho fashion intelligence which 
takeB up over nine pages. Tho Women’B Club 
and tho Correspondents’ Clnss afford the sub¬ 
scribers ample opportunity to exchange views 
and information. 
