206 
MARCH 27 
Miss Llnwood was somewhere about the average 
bight, and she seemed almost painfully thin. In 
spite of this, however, her every movement was 
lull of grace. 
As for her face, that was simply the loveliest 
I had ever seen; but there was upon It the mark 
of a great Borrow — an express on which said, 
plainly enough to me, that she had passed through 
some very heavy trial, and that she was suffering. 
J felt for her at the same moment sympathy 
and curiosity, and 1 took the earliest opportunity 
I could to question Mrs. chambenaln about her. 
To my disappointment I could elicit nothing of 
any consequence. 
“Who has had more than her share of trouble,” 
said nurse, “and she Is quite a lady—there Is no 
doubt about that. But as for her reasons for 
coming here, ) assure you I have never so much 
as had a hint on the subject, nor has she made 
a single reference to her rormcr life. It Is very 
seldom she receives a letter, and 1 do not believe 
she Is acquainted with anyone In the place. 1 
found, too, by her awkwardness In many little 
matters, thai. she had been accustomed to the 
services of a lady’s-maid; and when 1 volunteered 
to be of what use 1 eould to her In this respect, she 
quite overwhelmed me with thanks, but would not 
permit me to wait upon her until 1 really insisted 
upon doing so.” 
All this was very peculiar—not to tay mysterious 
—and the little I heard, Instead of satisfying my 
curiosity In any way, only silmulatedlt. 
Many were the theories more or less Ingenious 
that I lnveuted to account lor her presence hero, 
but every one of them proved untenable. 
I thought,, naturally, at first that she had suf¬ 
fered some pecuniary reverses; yet this notion was 
disposed on In a rather'singular manner. 
It was impossible to share the same sitting- 
room, to lake our meals together, and remain as 
strangers. 
Nor did It seem to be in any way her desire to be 
exclusive, and on my part, all 1 desired was to 
cultivate the acquaintanceship thus strangely 
formed. 
One evening we happened to he speaking of 
music, and 1 expressed rather warmly my passion 
for it, even in any shape. 
“ I, too. am fond of mu6lc,” she said, In a voice 
which in Itself was the sweetest music I had ever 
listened to —“ very fond. 1 have thought that I no 
longer felt an Interest In It; but I find I was mis¬ 
taken.” 
Evidently there was some allusion to the past, 
and I said no more. 
The next day, on ray return from a fishing excur¬ 
sion, 1 found that, the sitting-room had received an 
addition In the shape of a pianoforte. 
“Here in a little surprise, Dr. Broughton,” she 
said, wit h her sly, sad smile. “ I believe I shall 
once more be able to reel a pleasure In music, and 
so 1 have bought this pianoforte. Do you like the 
tone ?” 
Bought a pianoforte l and of the best quality, I 
could tell as soon as she touched the keys! Bought 
It, too, at the seaside 1 My Idea about lack of 
money was dissipated at once. 
Music always affects me deeply—keenly. She 
played a few bars or some soft, sad air—played 
with so much feeling that my eyes grew moist. 
She wits a musician or no mean order.—To be con¬ 
tinued. 
THE BLIND PRINCE. 
BY MARGARET B. HARVEY. 
Once there was a young prince who had never 
seen. Long had he pruyed that he might receive 
his sight, but for j ust as long a time his prayers 
had not been answered, still were his eyes closed 
to all that Is oeautllul In naturo and art; still 
were the faces of his beloved fi lends unbcucld. 
Save this one blessing he had almost everything 
that could have made him happy. Never had he 
known a day’s Illness, so to his other afflictions he 
dtd not add the heavy burden of a tortured body ; 
his courtly position meant a freedom irom all the 
distresses of waul; his bright Intellect, had been 
well cultivated and he had almost In perfection 
that never-falling resource or the mini, a passion¬ 
ate love lor music, combined with a wonderful 
skill in execution, so the horrors oi a vacant ml ml 
were not lor him; all of his relatives, without ex¬ 
ception, Idolized him, so he never conceived of the 
awful loneliness of the unloved. But this one 
black shadow huug over him, threatening to poi¬ 
son everything with Its blight. 
llo had prayed long for bis sight, I have observed. 
Rather should I have said, groaned and wrestled 
for it, fiercely demanded it, even caned into ques¬ 
tion his Maker's goodness In denying It. It was 
very hard for him to bear, no doubt, and very nat¬ 
ural for him to mourn, but such grief as his had 
none of t he Baoreduess of real prostration under 
the Lord's mighty hand. It was rather Childish, 
Impotent rage, and as such was likely to spoil 
every good already his. 
It was late in the afternoon of a beautiful sum¬ 
mer day. The prluee sat in a little pavilion in the 
garden, drinking lu all of loveliness possible lor 
him. For, though the gorgeous Roses and fair 
Lilies, tossing In crimson profusion and swaying in 
snowy majesty, were hidden from him; though 
the silvery spray of the fountain, falling among 
enwreathlng ferns and mosses, were Invisible to 
his veiled eyes; though the graoeful trees and 
trailing vines, with the enclosing wall beyond, 
were covered from his curtained sight; and 
though the illuminated skies and red and gold 
lights streaming from them, bathing all lu a 
bright, ftunset glow, wore as naught—yet the 
heavy perfume of the flowers, the musical plash 
of the waters, the sort rustle ol Lhc blanches, and 
the gentle kiss of t he breezes were all real to him. 
And hi, too, was their blessed Influence, stealing 
upon him ere he was well aware. Dealing to his 
heart they carried, for a strange feeling of sudden 
tenderness came over him. 
“ Oh,” he mused. “ l know that all is beautiful 
around me now. Could I be any more keenly alive 
THE RURAL ^EW-YORKER. 
to It If I saw it? My Father’s will must be best. 
I shall leave It with Him to restore my sight as 
He sees fit. But why this great joy, this springing 
exultation ? My soul Is full of melody.” 
As he spoke, he rose, crossed the. garden, and 
stepped through the low window Into the little 
room In which he spent much of his time. Seating 
himself at the organ, ho ran his lingers over the 
keys, hoping to find some expression for the sweet¬ 
ness ringing within him. 
Ills past lire rose berore him, wrapped in a heavy, 
black pall. A nd as memory after memory, scene af¬ 
ter scene, came back, ids fingers, half involuntari¬ 
ly drew out. low, crashing chords or rage and dread, 
followed then by low, minor wallings of despair. 
But the gladness still reigned In his heart, and 
thoughts of the scent of the flowers, the fall of the 
waters, the waving ol the trees, and the sighing 
of the zephyrs, seemed to Intensify It; and the 
sounds of mourning swiftly changed Into the 
earnest, solemn breathings of a hopeful prayer, 
succeeded by a few faint notes of timid exultation, 
which, gathering confldence, increased In number 
and volume, soaring as a simple, happy hymn of 
praise, and suddenly bursting Into a grand, swell¬ 
ing, reverberating anthem of Jubilee. 
The lost was a prophecy* although the prince 
knew It not. The timid strain of exultation, and 
the simple hymn or praise would have been a flu¬ 
ting end of his playing. For, wonderfully and en¬ 
tirely satisfied with the harmonies which he had 
called forth, he turned, with a shade ol weariness 
towards the window from which he had come. 
Like a flash was his quick exclamation, " I can 
seel” 
The t wilight had been stealing on, as he sat at 
the organ, ailing all the room with dark shadows. 
But, through the casement came to him the dim 
sight of the garden, tinged with the faint ltgbt. of 
departing day. 
“ Oh!” he cried; “ And this Is what It is to see ?” 
And he stepped out Into the walk, the same, yet 
not the same, and made a hasty Inspection of the 
garden, scanning the familiar, yet unfamiliar ob¬ 
jects. 
“ And tbls Is color! 1 have heard that Hoses were 
red, Lilies while, and leaves green,—I wonder how 
men ever discerned difference enough to give them 
different names. And I did not expect to find the 
grove of evergreens and the pavilion so much 
alike. But the light, the sunshine,-perhaps my 
being denied them has made me overestimate 
them, for certainly, 1 was prepared to tlnd them 
very much brighter.” 
So he went on, every step he took, bringing him 
some fresh surprise. For, as his sight had come 
to him just at dark, he did not know what day 
was. So absorbed, so bewildered had he been by 
Ibis sudden awakening, that he had completely 
forgotten the existence of every human creature. 
But, before the deepest shadows overtook him, his 
tutor joined him. 
As the prince heard the step, he cried, “Oh, 
Godfrey, 1 can see 1” Then he felt of the new¬ 
comer as he had done lu the olden time, and scan¬ 
ned him from head to foot. 
“ Godfrey, I see you I yet how strapge! Your 
hair and your face, and the flowers and the trees 
are all the same color,—yet i had heard different¬ 
ly.” 
“ The same color! ” exclaimed the tutor. “ Oh, 
my prince, do you not know that It is almost night 
and that you arc looking upon everything In the 
twilight?” 
The prince recoiled and trembled as though he 
would have fallen. Godfrey supported him. 
“ Let, us praise God that your sight is restored. 
Let all dear to you thank Jllrn. You shall sleep 
through the night safely and In the morning see 
the sunshine ” 
They gathered around him, all those wlxo loved 
him. And though ho feared when darkness again 
tell over him. they cheered him In gentle, tender 
voices, A nd at Last the sun rose lor hfln upon a 
perfect, unclouded day. 
AD the mysteries of color were solved for him, 
In the deep azure of the sky, with Its fleecy clouds, 
In the swaying tree-tops, In the velvety sward, In 
the glowing heart of the Rose, the seraph robe ol 
the Lily. All the grace ol form was comprehended 
by him, In the tossing cedars and wreathing Ivy 
and spraying fountain. All the wonders of light 
and sunshine were spread before him, In the gold 
flooding the green and the opals quivering In the 
water. Best of all, in one glance, he knew, as he 
had never known before In years, those whom he 
loved. Ills hour of triumph had come. 
And thus It may be with many of us. We strug¬ 
gle on In darkness and despair, until we are willing 
lo leave all with our dear Father- Then will He 
breathe into our souls a sweet consciousness of 
ills tender care, so that we must change the song 
ot our life from Its sorrowful tones to those ol Joy- 
In Uls love; and before we are aware, we may 
catch faint Intuitions of our coming glory and 
sing ol It In strains borrowed from choirs angello. 
Then, too, a sight or fils ways and dealings may 
come to us. true Indeed, but seemingly dim and 
distorted when hall covered with darkness, such 
as that in which we have spent our Jives. But 
after our night, the glorious sun ot ills immediate 
presence will rise for us. And, whether In deed or 
In memory, we shall pass again through familiar 
scenes, Illuminated with this light, those things 
which appeared to U3 dull and confused will be 
seen to he their very selves, but bright, clear and 
beautiful. And It may be, too, with the dawning 
ot that day, the masks will be stripped away from 
the faces and hearts of our beloved, and we shall 
be one with them forever. 
-- 
HISTORICAL SNATCHES. 
Tub united States Mint wav established In 1793 
Welgnts and measures were invented In 869 
berore Christ. 
Volley of Insurance In writing was tlrst used at 
Florence, In 1569. 
Gunpowder was Invented In 1330, and cannon 
began to be used about the same time. They were 
tlrst employed by the English at the battle of 
Greasy. In 1340. 
Organs were Invented and applied to religious 
devotion In churches In 758. They were brought 
from the Greek empire to Europe. 
Soap was first manufactured at London and 
Bristol in 1524. 
Blankets were first manufactured In England In 
1340. 
Japan was discovered In 1512, and visited by the 
English In 1612. 
Gas was flrst used In London for lighting shops 
and Btreets In 1814; Introduced In the United 
8tates, at Baltimore in 1821. 
Cape Horn was flrst sailed around In 1516. 
Gipsies left Egypt, when attacked by the Turks 
In 1515. and wandered over a greater part of 
Europe. 
Cassar was assassinated 43 years before the 
Christian era. 
Distaff spinning was flrst introduced Into Eng¬ 
land by Bonavera, an Italian, In 1605. 
LaFayette was 19 when he came from France to 
assist the Americans. 
ablraflj ^Icatoitcj 
A SONG OF HOPE. 
FROM THE GERMAN OF OVERBACH. 
Why aro tours so many 
In this world of ours ? 
Why aro sighs so heavy, 
Maklmc long the hours. 
Nay. tbon, Christian brother, 
Will you still rebel? 
Boat the trouble under; 
All will still be well. 
Up, and shout, with spirit; 
God's eyes are not dim, 
And His children's sorrows 
AU are known to Him. 
He delights to gladden— 
Slug His praises outr- 
With I lls own hands strewing 
Blessings round about. 
a 
•» » »- 
BRIC-A-BRAC. 
SIGNS OF THE 8EA80N. 
When the wind blows east alway, 
And the roads like rluk-floors ring, 
And you cough and sneeze all day. 
Then men say it’s " merry Spring ! ” 
Only this weak nature 
Bears not much of mirth, 
So Hu sends some canker 
In the Joys of earth. 
Till in death wo slumber 
And return to dust, 
All tho gifts He sends ns 
Are but lout lu trust. 
When the rain pours day and night. 
Skies look glum, and faces glummer, 
And hay.fever's at its bight. 
Then, of course, it's “ glorious Summer 1” 
Make not such commotion 
For the things of time, 
There are treasures yonder 
Waiting to bo thine. 
When solo change from catching colds 
Is in wondering how you caught 'em, 
And grey mist the land enfolds, 
They you know it’s " genial Autumn!" 
Aro wo not from slumber 
Waked from morn to light? 
80 our life-long trouble 
Lnsteth but a night. 
When cold water takes two shapes. 
Drenching douche and icy splinter, 
And the world's all coats and capes. 
Then be suro it’s Jolly Winter V 
“ There was a young man with a shaddock, 
Who mot a young maid with a haddock. 
Ho thought, * How I wish 
She would give me that fish, 
In legal exchange for my shaddock ! ’ 
“ The maiden who did not like haddock, 
Thought,' Oh, what a beautiful shaddock ! 
If I were not so shy, 
I should certainly try 
If he’d give me that fruit for my haddock.’ 
" He wont on his way with his shaddock ; 
Bhe went on her way with her haddock; 
And so cruel is fate 
That until't was too late, 
Neither of them heard 
That, by speaking tho word, 
He might Just as well have had haddock, 
And she might as well have had shaddock 1” 
Turning the tarlks.—S ome lew years since, In 
the county of Penobscot in the United States, 
there lived a man by the name of II—, whose 
greatest pleasure was In tormenting others. Hla 
own family were generally t he butts of his sport. 
One hold and blustering night he retired to bed at 
an early hour, his wife being absent at a neigh¬ 
bor’s. Some rime after, she, on returning, finding 
the door closed, demanded admittance. '• Who 
are you?” cried Mr. H-. “You know who I 
ami Let me In—It's very cold I” “Begone you 
strolling vagabond ! I want nothing of you here I” 
“ But I must come In!” " What la your name?” 
“ You know my name It Is Mrs. 11-1” “Begone I 
Mrs. II—Is a very likely w oman—she never keeps 
such late hours as thlfil” “ It you don’tUt me In,” 
replied Mrs. II—-, “i will drown myselt In the 
well 1” “|Do, ir you please,” he replied- 8he then 
took a log and plunged It Into the well, and re¬ 
turned to t he side ol the door. Mr. 11 -, hearing 
the noise, rushed from the house to save, as he 
supposed, his drowning iwlfc. Slio at the same 
time slipped In und closed the door after her. Mr. 
H-, almost nude, In turn demanded admit¬ 
tance. “Whoare you?" she demanded. “You 
know who 1 am. Let mo in, or 1 shall freeze!” 
“ Begone you great rogue 1 I want nothing of 
you here 1” "But I must come In!” “What Is 
your name?” “You know my name. It Is Mr. 
II—!” “ Mr. R-Isa very likely man—ho don’t 
keep such late hours!” Bufllco It to say, she alter 
keeping him in the cold until she was satisfied, 
opened the door and let him in. 
I think of thee, sweet William, 
And I long to hear from you; 
Send me a missive, won't you, please, 
Oh, come now, billet-doux. 
A Backslipino Cat.—A lira t-rate cat story has 
come to our notice from an entirely authentic 
source. The scene Is laid In the village of Yar¬ 
mouth. An aged gentleman and his housekeeper 
constitute the family, and their good old cat finds 
tho lines are fallen to hertn pleasant places. Fam¬ 
ily prayers are tho rule each evening in this house¬ 
hold. and the cat fell Into the habit ol regular and 
punctual attendance. No other ol the cares that 
proverbially crowd a cat’s life was ever allowed to 
Interfere with this religious duty. At the signal 
lor prayers she would even leave a mouse halt 
caught, or give a doomed bird a longer lease ol 
existence, and decorously compose herself In the 
lap of the housekeeper, with an air ol attention to 
the service that was highly edllylhg. At the final 
“Amen” she went friskily about her business. 
But In an evil day there oame a kitten that was 
deemed superfluous, and sentence of death was 
passed upon It. The head of tho family under¬ 
took the excoutlon ol the sentence, and, unknown 
to him, the cat. was a witness ot the scene. From 
that day the cat refused to attend the morning 
service, and cannot now be Induced to listen to the 
prayers ol one who had so shocked her sensibili¬ 
ties. She faithfully performs ull other duties as 
before, and socially purrs lor Die family on all 
secular occasions, but seems to say: “ Let my re- 
lglous hours alone .”—Portland Trans. 
Night will soon be over, 
Day comes on apace; 
Ere we can believe it. 
We have run our race. 
Let us, then, be patient, 
Schooling each our soul; 
Waiting till the day break 
And wo reach our goal. 
Then will all bo over; 
Then we shall bo free, 
Singing songs of triumph 
Through eternity. a. a. 
-- 
Wk men and women, moving In the common 
ways of the world, are yet. deriving our life from, 
and in spirit dwelling with. One at the Father’s 
right hand. From that, “ silting with Him In the 
heavenlles,” comes all the strength and gladness 
or our lives By his unseen grace our naturo Is 
nourished; from btRfulness our hearts are satis- 
fled. Such communion la understood, even from 
the common affections of life. 
“Underneath thee are the everlasting arms,” 
We have not to wait for Divine succor In the hour 
ot need. It la already there. When we aro about 
to sink, it la by anticipation, “ undornoath ” us. 
“God Is our refuge and strength; a very present 
help In trouble." 
This world, with all Its wealth and splendor, 
hangs but. a golden drop In the Immensities of God 
—In the Illimitable Immensities that open before 
the soul. 
Goon prayers never come creeping home. I am 
sure I shall receive either what I ask or what I 
should ask.— Bishop Haix. 
MisuUaiuous. 
THE RILEY CONTROVERSY. 
To tub Editor op thk Rurat, New-Yorker;— 
Sir:— The Impartial reader will weigh the evi¬ 
dence In my reply, already published, with the 
specious testimony In your Issue for March 6th. I 
care not to be drawn Into controversies with per¬ 
sons who can either know nothing of the facts, or 
find it politic to forget anything that bears evi¬ 
dence In my favor; or to their interest to construe 
at their master s beck conversations to suit him. 
If Mr. LaDow Is not an Indifferent reporter, he 
knows that hla purported reports are “ incom¬ 
plete, garbled anil misleading " to my Injury, and 
that my general statement of them correctly gives 
their substance. As to the gratuitous opinions of 
one who so servilely’ lendR himself to misrepre¬ 
sentation, they are beneath my notice. Having 
no desire to extend tills controversy “ without 
limit,” I simply beg you. In conclusion-both to 
dissipate a suspicion lo rny own mind that you are 
making Commlasloner LeDue s case your own, and 
to Justify some statements which I had verbally 
made In regard to my reply before It appeared—to 
bear wttnoBB, by their publication, to the following 
facts: 
1st, That you suppressed tho (tor me) most Im¬ 
portant part of the evidence In relation to Mr. 
Carman, Chief Clerk ot the Department, which i 
twice sent to you; 2d, that while announcing that 
you regretfully surrendered so much space to my 
reply, you declined te omit six different passages 
and lettera which I crossed off In the “ proofs ” with 
a view of keeping, as far as posslblo, other persons 
out of the controversy; 3d. that all these passages 
were on page 185, i. e., in the “ form ” that last goes 
to press, and that it could not have been too late 
to make the changes, because tho proof was re¬ 
turned by Friday of the week previous to publica¬ 
tion, and corrections were made on page 12.8 in the 
form whloh flrst goes to press. Respectfully, 
Washington, D. C., March 0 , 1SS0. C. V. Riley. 
f Wo aro sorry Professor Riley entertains a sus- 
Bpldou that we are making Commissioner I,e Due's 
case our own. We published Mr, K. A. Carman’s 
letter of modification, as requested. We did not 
publish Prof. Riley's explanation of that letter, for 
the reason that It, reached us too lato. Neverthe¬ 
less, the suppressed letter which Frof. Riley 
