662 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
OCT. 2 
Cecil’s heart stands still for a moment. The 
face, so -wan and haggard, so ghastly, Is perfectly 
familiar to her, and the next moment she has 
fallen on her knees heslde him. 
“ Hex!” she says, under her breath, “Oh! 
Rex j’f 
Into the dim, weary eyes there comes a gleam of 
pleasure. 
“Cecil—little Cls—Is It you?" he murmurs, 
softly. “ i have come home, you see. I could not 
die without seeing—you—and Mattie once more.” 
“ Die! oh t Rex 1” falters Cecil, too sick at heart, 
too horrified at the change In her brother, at the 
seal ot death on his face, which even her lnexpe- 
lenced eyes cannot fall to discern, to say anymore, 
while her brother loaned against her for a moment 
feeling yet more keenly, at sight of her brilliant 
beauty and freshness, his own ruin. 
“ Can you help me up?” he says, In a moment. 
“ I walked up-from the— station— but I could get 
no farther last night, I suppose. The sight of— 
the old place was too much for me. Can you help 
me, Cls?” 
Every word he utters seems to require an effort 
to force It from the parched, blackened lips, and 
the red spot which contrasts so vividly with the 
ghastly pallor of his face deepens In his hollow 
cheek. 
“ Yes, 1 can help you, Rex.” 
“ Shall I call Barton ?” she says, gently. “ lie is 
so much taller than I am ; he will help you bet¬ 
ter.” 
“ Barton—uo, 1 cannot.see him,” and the shame- 
stricken look deepens In Reginald Lester’s blue 
eyes. “ And yet he knew me—when—” 
The words die away on his lips. 
“ I am quite strong enough to walk.” 
Very slow and faltering arc* his steps, but with 
his slater’s assistance he manages to reach the 
house. The stone steps leading to the hall door 
are very formidable, but they are mounted at 
length, and Reginald Lester enters the home of 
his ancestors, never to leave It again until he is 
carried forth to his last resting place, 
Cecil says nothing; she cannot speak, her heart 
is too full, and her lips are quivering ominou sly. 
Is this the return home of the brother w liom she 
so much loved, and of whom she has always 
thought with so much pride—this ruined, broken- 
down man, can ho Indeed he Reginald Lester, who 
had left them less than three years ago, so strong, 
so bright, so gay—so full of hope for the future, 
so secure in the preseut? Can It be that his stay, 
hut a brief one after all, has destroyed all this, 
and made him the wreck he is?” 
M at. tie, looking up suddenly from a paper over 
which she glauceB as she stands by the breakfast- 
table, sees them as they enter; the beautiful girl, 
the broken down dying man-and the' paper nut¬ 
ters out of her hands and lies unheeded at her 
feet, as she faces them In surprise too great for 
words, growing white to her lips. 
Reginald Lester sees his sister's face as she turns 
towards him In Its startled pallor and terror, and 
he tries to say a few words as he holds out Ills 
hands to her, but the fictitious strength, born of 
excitement, which had sustained him during the 
long' northward journey, and had given him 
strength to find his way from ihe station to the 
Hall the previous night, dies away, and he sinks 
forward helplessly at his sister’s feet In a dead 
swoon.—To be continued. 
-- 
BRIC-A-BRAC. 
“ FETCH THE VIE.” 
everything—tickets wern’t to he had for love or 
money.” 
THE SERENADE. 
“ I will stay,” lie sang-," and will sing my say, 
While slumber seals your eyes 
And the still deep night will see me stay 
Under the starlit skies, 
I will wake and sing till the morning star 
Shall glow' in the eastern sky." 
But he didn’t; her " pa” came out right thar, 
And “ lifted" him nine l’eet high. 
CRAVAT ltOW.—KKi. 316. 
A college professor encouraged his geology 
class to collect speolmens, and one day they de¬ 
posited a piece of brick, streaked and stained, 
with their collections, thinking to Impose upon 
the doctor. Taking up the specimens, the pro¬ 
fessor remarked: “ This is a piece of baryta t rom 
the Cheshire mines;” holding up another, “This 
Is a piece of feldspar from the Portland quarries; 
and this,” coming to the brick, •* Is a piece of Im¬ 
pudence from some member of this class!” 
beautiful skirt. 
Oh, skirt! beautiful skirt! 
Jerked through the dust and dragged through the dirt! 
Once you were white 
As the mantle of buow, 
And the leaves of the lily 
When spring zephjTB blow. 
Stiff to the touch and fair to the eye. 
Neat to the gaze of each passer-by; 
Now tattered and spattered— 
Oh! piteous wrong. 
Beautiful skirt, 
They made you too long. 
It Is reported that a reverend D. D. when pass¬ 
ing along Church street, heard a woman shout out 
to her little hoy (who was working in the middle 
of the street with mud and water), “You little 
devil, what are you doing there ?” The D.D. who 
had been unpercelved) went silently up to the 
woman and said, “ Are you the mother ot that 
child ?” at which the reply was, “ Yes.” After 
viewing her from head to foot, he exclaimed rather 
loudly, “ I never saw the devil’s mother before," 
leaving the said devil’s mother somewhat aston¬ 
ished and bewildered. 
THE MAIDEN AND THE DEE. 
*• A cottager loaned-whispering by her hives, 
Telling her bees some news, as they Jit down 
And entered, one by one their waxen town.” 
— Jean inoolow's “On the Borders of Cannock Chase." 
And presently a bee, a great big golden bee. 
That appeared to be the watch-dog of the trea-sury. 
Shot like a baU from out the waxen town. 
And on the nose of cottager serenely sat him down. 
Saying;" Excuse this liberty,O pretty maid divine, 
But I have news to tell thee, in return for news of 
thine." 
The maiden didn't huger long a-whispering to the 
A pretty little anecdote about Patti is told 
by a Vienna paper. In the year, let us say 18—, 
Adelina Patti was a charming young girl In the 
first bloom or beauty. It is not necessary to refer 
to portraits or anecdotes in order to know this, as 
It is quite sufficient now to see her and hear her 
sing. WelL at that time Berlioz was one of her 
most ardent admirers. One evening, after dinner, 
Patti requested him to write something lor her in 
her album. “Two lines, or oDly two words,” 
begged the charming singer, with her most be¬ 
witching smile, as Berlioz did not seem Inclined to 
grant the request. At last Patti said : “ If you 
will do what 1 desire, you can make your own 
choice. You can either have a kiss from me, or 
one of those pies from cook of which you are so 
very fond." Berlioz at once took the pen and 
wrote on one of the leaves of the album the two 
words, “ Oportet pail." “ But I don’t quite un¬ 
derstand this,” said the diva, a little perplexed. 
“ Oh, that Is cook’s Latin,” answered Berlioz, 
slyly laughing. “ It means, ‘ Fetch on the pie.’ ” 
De Summer’s gwine fast away. 
Bis hotness cannot last; 
The ’skeeler’s hum will soon be o’er, 
De flies be wid de past. 
Dis world am but a fleetin’ show, 
We cannot tarry here; 
We lib a while, den go away 
Upon de solem bier. 
De watermellyon am deceit, 
Persimmons cannot stay; 
Cold chicken pie can’t keep us heah 
When we are called away. 
Our Sunday cloze am wanity, 
Our money am— 
The clerk of the court hade the witness give his 
name, age, etc., and hold up his hand to be sworn. 
He took tbe oath with Buch dignified composure 
and deliberateness that every one felt that there 
bees; 
But struck a trightlul gulopade, her hair upon the 
breeze, 
And the howls that she emitted, as Bhe danced and 
pranced and ran, 
Were heard, the neighbors tell me, clear from Beer- 
sheba to Dan.—Cincinnati Enquirer. 
stood before them a calm, sell-poised, truthful 
man, whose evidence would go far to settle the 
minds of the jurors in this sensational case. There 
was a murmur as every one settled himself to 
drink in his testimony. “ Now, sir.” said the 
judge, “ be good enough to tell the jury what you 
know about this Important case.” •• I don’t know 
anything about It,” Bald the witness, blandly. 
“ Don’t know anything about it? Then why did 
you have yourself summoned as a witness ?” “So 
as to get a good Beat where I could hear and see 
BOUQUET HOLDER.—FIG. 317. 
At a party not long since, where questions were 
asked, and facetious If not felicitous answers were 
expected, a coal-dealer asked what legal author¬ 
ity was the favorite with his trade. One answered, 
“Coke.” “ Right,” said the coal-dealer. Another 
suggested, “ Blackstone." “ Good, too,” said the 
quesl loner. Then a little hard-faced rnau In the 
corner piped out, “ Little-ton.” Whereupon the 
coal-dealer sat down without saying anything. 
Jfor omnt. 
CONDUCTED BY MISS RAY CLARK. 
WEAVING THE WEB. 
“ This morn I will weave my web." she said. 
As she stood by her loom in the rosy light. 
And her young eyes hopefully glad and clear, 
Followed afar the swallow's flight. 
" As soon as the day's first tasks are done, 
While yet 1 am fresh and strong,” said she, 
“ I will hasten to weave the beautiful web 
Whose pattern is kuowuto none hut me.” 
“ I will weave it fine, 1 will weave it fair. 
And ah 1 how the colors will glow !" she said, 
“ Ho fadeless and strong will I weave my web 
That perhaps it will live after I am dead." 
But the morning hours sped on apace; 
The air grow sweet with the breath of June; 
And young Love hid by the waiting loom, 
Tangled the threads as he hummed a tune. 
“ Ah! life is SO rich and full,” she cried. 
And morn is short though the days are long ! 
This noon I will weave my beautiful web, 
I will weave it carefully, fiue, and strong.” 
But the situ rose high iu the elondlesa sky; 
The burden and heat of the day she bore; 
And hither and thither she came and went, 
While the loom stood still as it stood before. 
'* Ah ! life is too busy at noon,” she said; 
“ My wel> must wait till the eventide, 
Till the common work of the day is done, 
And my heart grows calm iu the silence wide ! ” 
So, one by cue, the hours pasHed on, 
Till the creeping shadows had longer grown ; 
Till the house was still, and the breezes slept. 
And tbe singing birds to their nests had flown. 
“ And now X will weave my web,” she said. 
As she turned to her loom ere set of sun, 
And laid her hand on the shining threads 
To set them iu order, one by one. 
But band was tired, and heart was weak; 
“ I am not as strong as I was,” sighed she, 
“ And the pattern is blurred, aud the colors rare 
Are not so bright or so fair to see 1 
“ I must wait, I think, tiff another mom; 
I must go to my rest with my work undone; 
It is growing too dark to weave !" she cried, 
As lower and lower sank the sun. 
She dropped the shuttle , the loom stood still; 
The weaver slept iu the twilight gray. 
Dear heart. Will she weave her beautiful web 
In the golden light of a longer day ? 
DESCRIPTION OF CUTS. 
Fig. 316 —Cravat Bow. The bow is of ruby satin, 
dotted vi fill cream color, but the design maybe 
followed out mthe useot many other colors and 
kinds of material. The above however, Is one of 
the fashionable combinations. 
Figs. 317 and 31S.—Holders for button-hole and 
girdle bouquets. These holders are made of 
heavy white paper, In the form of a cornflower. 
The cuts represent the natural size. 
BOUQUET HOLDER.—FIG. 31S. 
PIC-NICS. 
Pic-nics are all well enough In their way, but 
why will people give them In such terribly warm 
weather. 
I attended one a few years ago (don’t Imagine It 
was my first, for I have a long experience), and 
don’t think I can be tempted to attend another 
soon. Up two hours earlier than usual, dressed 
“ on time,” swallowed a hasty breakfast and went 
off In a frantic hurry. It was a “ church affair,” 
so we repaired thither; finally the word was given 
and we were marched off, two-and-two, for a walk 
of at least a dozen squares, on the sunny side of 
the street (and It was Just exactly three- quarters 
of an hour after the appointed time). Once on 
the boat, we really had a pleasant time, only 
landing every other square to wait for, and take 
on, belated plc-nlcers. Then the singers got in a 
comer and murdered an Innumerable amount of 
Sunday-school songs, and the enthusiastic base¬ 
ball players must have a game played over our 
heads. 
All these, however, were trifles; you should 
have witnessed our landing, that was worth the 
pencil of Frank Leslie's, or some other, caricatur¬ 
ist. such pushing, running and j urnplng; such a 
sudden display of activity by dignified elderly 
people was never before witnessed. If tfie captain 
had given us but three minutes to land In there 
could not have been more baste. 
But It did not end there, for they went running 
and yelling along the sandy shore, like a lot of 
lunatics just escaped. 
We had to walk the distance of about two 
squares in the hot sand, and then be pulled by the 
arms and pushed on the back up the most out¬ 
landish steep bank, where once landed in safety, 
many were off at a break-neck pace. Some ot us 
were unfortunate, most especially I, for the young 
man below did not push at the right moment while 
the young man above pulled with a will, and as I 
am no fairy In weight the consequence was, the 
gent above took a seat suddenly. In preference to 
coming down race-forward, and I “ bit the dust ” 
in a manner neither graceful nor funny (to me at 
least). Helping hands were extended, and I was 
landed on terra flrma with my hat jammed down 
over my face, ray dress soiled, my fan broken and 
tbe souud of “ giggles ” in my ears. 
These also were mere trifles; so brushing off 
the dust and squaring my hat, I trotted off with 
the rest. 
We had barely reached the spot destined for 
our days pleasure (?) when some simpleton began 
pitching “bean bags;” this was splendid sport, 
we all agreed, and immediately formed Into an 
Immense circle, with a half-dozen bean bags flying 
around; for convenience we got Into an open 
space, la the hot sun, of course, and I had forgot¬ 
ten my gloves. It was very pleasant and exciting 
at first; that tall young gentlemen would pitch 
the bags dear over my head, and away I would 
gallop, grab It—miss It—try again, and raise my 
head Just in time to see another go whizzing 
by. My arms ached, the perspiration poured 
from my red face, but l was not going to be the 
first to give up, so I kept bravely on, and could not 
help feeling vexed when the handsomest gentle¬ 
men in the ring sauntered off' with—I was going 
to Bay—the handsomest girl, but I take It back, for 
she had red hair and freckles; It was her dress 
that was the handsomest, and I don’t care how 
much men may rave about woman’s extravagance 
In dress, take nineteen men out of twenty, and put 
them In company with two young ladles, one in¬ 
telligent and sensible, but plain in face and dress, 
the other gay, showy In dress and a regular flirt, 
to whom common sense is a stranger, and those 
nineteen men will all bow down and worship 
number two, leaving her companion to the twen¬ 
tieth man, who, I may as well remark, Is not 
always to be found; he Is a myth, generally speak¬ 
ing. 
They will all tell you how much they admire 
and respect a plain, sensible girl, and all that sort 
of thing; but 1 am of the opinion that the reason 
so many plain, sensible girls are slighted Is that 
the men who do It have not the sense to appre¬ 
ciate them. 
But I am digressing l Dinner time came at last, 
and after choosing six or seven different places, 
we finally selected a spot on which to demolish 
the contents of our baskets. Wflat a grand day 
It was for the bugs and ants! they came in whole 
droves, like “Parson Hardbake”—to "sample our 
cookery.” The butter was melted to oil, there was 
too much water in the lemonade, some one got the 
cake 1 wanted, and above all, It was unmcrcllully 
warm. 
Just as we got under full headway, the sun 
crept around the tree, and shone lull in our faces, 
and we finished dinner under an umbrella. Then 
a kindly disposed person dropped a piece of Ice 
down my back; It was cool, but decidedly uncom¬ 
fortable If allowed to remain in one place. 
After the feat of eating dinner was accomplished, 
another simpleton (they always attend picnics,) 
proposed games, and we commenced with “drop- 
plng-the-handkerchlef.” Round and round we ran 
having a “ splendid” time, until one lady caught 
her foot, and measured her length on the ground; 
two gallant gents flew to her aid, aud as they lifted 
her up. she hysterically gasped—“l’m nut hurt!” 
I don't suppose she was; she had severely skinned 
her chin, knocked her nose a trifle to the left, and 
had her mouth lull of dirt. But the poor thing 
had torn her dress and stained It with grass, be¬ 
sides knock! ug her hat entirely out of shape. She 
had courage worthy a better cause, tor she made 
three more trips around the ring, and then went 
off fora "drink of water." 1 wanted a glass of 
water soon afterwards, and 1 Just happened to 
to tlod her sitting on a log, crying dismally. Poor 
thing! I suppose she was tired. 
Then a rrlena (?) asked us to go boating and we 
eagerly assented; we started happy, and came 
back miserable. Our feet were wet and muddy, 
our skirts draggled, and we had been In mortal 
terror of drowning. The sun glared on the water, 
the sentimental ones sang boat songs, and the 
oarsman splasned water on us. 
And the swing; of course you must try that 
when you go to a picnic, even if you haven’t been 
In one for tea years. How frantically I grasped 
the rope with both hands, how sick I was, and how 
those girls did laugh at me. 
Thank heaven, It was over at last, and I was 
home, tired, sick, dirty, torn, draggled, and hun¬ 
gry, but telling every one I had had a splendid 
time. Need I speak of the next day. when I could 
not raise my hand to my head? You who have 
“ been there,” know how It Is, so I refrain. 
Allin e Ray. 
MISS IRENE’S IDEAS CONSIDERED. 
I notice in the Issue of Aug. 28, page 559, a brief 
article over the signature “Miss Irene.” She 
seems to think “the majority of husbands are 
failures; although before rnaiTlage, angels." 
Well now, I have been an old maid nearly thirty 
years; and for one of the best of reasons. I never 
had an offer, and yet 1 am cheerful and hopeful. 
1 am compelled to differ moBt reepecttully, with 
old maid, No. i, tn nearly every other particular. 
1 admit there are crabbed censorious husbands, 
but they are the oxcoptlou. Nlno-tenihs of the 
husbands In the circle of my acquaintance, (l wish 
