DEC 22 
846 
the farmer’s house was quiet for the night, 
the kitchen door left unbarred, and a light on 
the table turned low. 
CHAPTER SECOND. 
Davy Saunders lived but a little distance 
down the cross roads, and Silas took the short 
cut across the fields tramping over the frozen 
snow with the air of a martyr. “Whatbusi- 1 
ness had Hugh McLea to go for Ruth? He 
could have taken her to the dance, and no one 
had a better right, for he meant she should be , 
his wife, and now she seemed to fancy this in- | 
terloper.” He walked on angrily, and soon 
reached the house where the sounds of merry¬ 
making could be heard afar off. He looked 
in at one window, and therein a waltz, with 
her head almost on his shoulder, his face look¬ 
ing down upon her, were the two who occu¬ 
pied his thoughts. He almost felt their 
breath as they passed the half-frosted pane 
through which he was looking. He felt sick 
at heart—this love-lorn boy. It was his first 
affection, and it needed no telling to see that, 
the couple were wholly absorbed with each 
other. He would not go in just yet; he could 
not face them. There were two hay stacks 
uear, and he would sit down and draw breath 
and subdue his emotion in their friendly shel¬ 
ter; for the night was not cold to his hardy, 
stalwart frame, wrapped in cap and overcoat. 
And Silas sat down half numbed with the 
cold and jjain. drawing bis coat closely around 
his limbs, and only intending to wait a few 
moments to gain courage. 
How the wind blew: be could see the shad¬ 
ows of the dancers outside the window, 
and it made him mad with jealousy and auger. 
They all thought him a boy, but he would let 
them see some day that he had a man’s heart, 
and a man’s bitter experience was his. How 
stiff lie was getting; it would not do to sit 
there, so he slowly and painfully rises, and as 
he does so the figures of two men come into 
sight, turning away from the window as he 
had done half an hour before. He crept back 
into the shadow of the haystacks as they came 
nearer, speaking in subdued voices. He 
knew them well: two suspicious characters that 
lived down in the low marsh land. The first 
words he heard startled him: “Let him take 
the girl home,” said the taller man of the two. 
‘‘We owe no grudge to Farmer Willough’s 
lass.” “Are you sure he has the money ?” 
asked the other. “ Yes,” answered the first 
speaker, with an oath; “he came right from 
the notary’s getting his payment, and went for 
the girl with the cutter straight down.” 
The men passed out of sight, and Silas, with¬ 
out. hesitation, entered the house where fun 
and innocent frolic was the chief thought of 
the young folks assembled. His bruin was on 
fire, but be shivered with his long exposure to 
the frosty air, and accepted a seat by the fire > 
and a cup of tea brought him by the friendly 
bands of the young daughter of the house. 
And then the clock struck twelve. It was 
Christmas morning, and happy was that 
youth who chanced, or manceuvered. to have 
his best loved lassie under the bits of mistletoe 
that was entwined with evergreen boughs in 
the central part of the room. 
But Silas saw only the handsome Hugh, 
binding over Ruth, and from bis corner med¬ 
itated how he could be revenged. He knew 
the money the young man carried was trust 
money that it would take him years to re¬ 
place; besides, it would be easy to whisper it 
about that he lost it when coming from a 
Christmas party, and so destroy all confidence 
in him for the future. But then it was a 
mean part he had decided on, to let these men 
rob a good neighbor, and afterward steal his 
good name. But he hardened his heart, 
though it was a wonder that no good angel 
whispered to him that Ruth would still believe 
in her lover. The temptation grew upon him, 
and when they prepared to leave and sang the 
Christmas carols joyously together, he sat 
like Judas among them, notdariug to hear the 
sound of his own voice; not listening, but 
thinking bis own evil thoughts horn of jeal¬ 
ousy, and then Ruth’s voice broke the mo¬ 
mentary silence. She sang in low, soft 
tones: 
“We can never be too careful 
What the seeds our hands shall sow, 
Love from lore Is sure to ripen. 
Hate front hate Is sure to grow. 
Seeds of good or 111 we scatter 
Heedlessly along our way. 
But a glad or grievous fruitage 
Walts us at the harvest day. 
For whatever the sowlug be. 
Vc must gather and bring to Me." 
His eyes were full of teal's—and still he 
was not conquered. Each one of the company 
sang a verse before they parted. He only re¬ 
mained silent, and then Hugh’s voice went 
forth, deep and strong, joyous and trusting: 
“ Still further on—still further— 
Count, the mile-stones, one by one, 
No, no counting, only trusting, 
It Is better further on.” 
They went out of the door to the music of 
his voice in this confiding hymn, Hilas stum¬ 
bled out, too. How trustingly he sang “It 
is better further on?” What would be the re- 
, suit when revenge had been gained? Would 
! it be better for him “further on,” when he 
1 had blighted his rival's life? It, would l>e a sin 
on his conscience forever. And then through 
his brain bounded the gentle voice of Ruth: 
“ For whatever the sowing be," 
Ye must gather and bring to Me.” 
And he was about to sow ail these dreadful 
seeds,this bright Christmas morning. The boy’s 
heart was touched, he knew not how. Perhaps 
it was the trusting voice of the last siuger. 
But by the time the horse and cutter of Hugh 
Me Lea stood at the door he had made up his 
mind, and, after tucking Ruth iu aud wishing 
them a safe journey home, he turned into the 
house once more, and told what, he had heard 
earlier iu the evening to some of the young 
men who still remained. There was a hurried 
consultation. Then in twos and threes they 
struck across lots to the road between Farmer 
Willough’s aud the McLea farm; aud when 
the young man, lighthearted aud happy with 
Ruth’s promise and her confessed love, trotted 
his horse smartly along the road for home, 
he had no fear of evil, and whistled softly “ It 
is better further on.” 
But, the tune died on his lips as two figures 
arose suddenly iu his path, and he found his 
hands tied behind him. Then, quick as a 
flash, a dozen of his neighbors stood around 
bim, aud the first two were fighting fiercely. 
He loosed his hands, or some one cut the cord, 
he never knew; but there was a flash, one of 
the rutfians had fired, and he saw among his 
defenders a slight form fall to the ground. 
There was a minute’s silence, then a dozen 
men fell on the two aud tied them securely, 
and shook them, using fierce aud bitter words. 
Hugh bent over the wounded lad. “Silas! 
and you are hurt defending me. I thought 
to-night you were angry with me about some¬ 
thing.” The lad’s face grew deathly pale as 
they tore away his clothes. Would he die 
with his secret unspoken? 
In a few rapid words the neighbors spoke to 
each other of the part he had taken in the res¬ 
cue, of the bitter sacrifice, the sorrow of 
friends. For well they kuew no doctor could 
heal the wound now, as his life blood ebbed 
away while they vainly tried to staunch it. 
“Hold my hand fast, Hugh,” he murmured 
like a drowsy child, “aud toll Ruth I love her, 
but I give her to you.” 
His voice, sank lower, there was a hush 
among that crowd of stalwart men who wept 
silently, and as the moon rose and shone on 
the scene, adding to the pallor of his face, he 
seemed to tarn his weary eyes toward it, and 
like the faintest sighing of the wind, he whis¬ 
pered— 
"It Is better further on.” 
THE HOME READING CIRCLE. 
Home reading, to succeed and benefit its 
members, must be well organized and con 
ducted. It will not run itself. Enthusiasm 
at first will launch it, but self-denial, duty 
will alone keep it afloat and in safe sailing. 
Unless well officered, well manned and well 
handled, it will lag idle iu the dead calm of 
apathv, or swamp in the high seas and cross 
currents of other attractions and engagements 
at home or elsewhere. * 
If the matter chosen to read be too exciting, 
it will tempt some who can get the time 
and who think they cunnot wait, to steal the 
book and its secret, in advance of others, aud 
so lose further iuterest in the readings; if it 
be too dull or ill adapted to iuterest all, meu- 
tal haze and drowsiness will settle over the 
listeners Care must, therefore, be used in the 
choice of matter. 
Faithfulness to the time and place of read¬ 
ing will, at first, be easy; but soon some 
counter attraction or duty will conflict. The 
reading is postponed or omitted, first for one 
person and plea, t hen for another, until iuter¬ 
est dies, courage fails, aud the enterprise so 
recently launched with joy, sinks and buries 
all its rich hopes and opportunities just be¬ 
cause officers and crew, attracted by the sa¬ 
lutes and fascinations of passing ships, lacked 
loyalty and good service to each other A 
little tact and courtesy will mauage interrup¬ 
tions from without; a little self-denial added, 
will save the home circle from internal dis¬ 
ruption. 
1. Well, the circle formed, the book or article 
chosen, the members forewarned of distrac¬ 
tions from without, what next? A good 
reader is desirable. Choose t he best. Yet one 
may tire of reading, and a change of readers 
may also be gruteful to all aud at the same 
time give exercise to many. 
2. Allow brief interruptions. Encourage 
questions us to dates, persons, places, mean¬ 
ing of words, statement of facts, etc. If 
maps, hLstoi leal charts aud dictionaries are at 
hand for ready reference so much tho better. 
The home circle should read with brains and 
not be afraid to dig for treasure. Its reading 
is not to be u blood-and thunder, cheap-nove 1 
dissipation, but for mental stimulus and cul¬ 
ture. 
If members sewing, knitting, etc., need to 
discuss their work a moment, let them ask for 
a pause for this purpose rather than whisper 
duriug the readiug to the loss and annoyance 
of all. If domestic cares call any briefly from 
the circle, kindness dictates a suspension of 
reading. Meantime tact will keep alive inter¬ 
est and prevent impatience by talk pertiueut 
to tho book, its author, the age aud -sceue of 
his life, etc. Indeed, interest may thus be 
heightened and the suspension prove a profit 
rather than a loss. 
3. Change and variety will be needed. If 
the reading occupies the whole evening it 
should have pauses for rest and change of 
position. A change of subject is also desir¬ 
able. Take something light and humorous to 
close with. Enjoy a good laugh together be¬ 
fore going to bed and sleep the better for it. 
4. The frequency of meeting to read will 
vary according to circumstances. It should 
not be forgotten, however, that meetings must 
be frequent enough to enable all to keep fresh 
in mind the connection of thought aud move¬ 
ment and thus to keep alive their iuterest. It 
is desirable also that time enough be allotted 
to finish some work of high merit before the 
readings are omitted. 
5. As valuable as the reading perhaps, is the 
memory-exercise at. its end. This is the real, 
self-applied test of the value of the readings. 
For this exercise questions may be prepared 
by one or more, or they may bo asked im¬ 
promptu, or each may narrate what he re¬ 
members with most interest. If all attend to 
the readings with the memory exercise in 
view, they will perhaps take some notes; but 
in any case they will profit the more for the 
review. 
All this and more the home-reading circle 
can accomplish without the bondage and fear 
of a school, or the rivalries of a comjietitive 
examination. For love at home is nearest to 
the perfect love which casts out all fear—a 
love the vital air of which is freedom, and the 
true aim and tendency of w hich are the cul¬ 
ture and salvation of our boys and girls—the 
hope of the future. 
Origin of the Word Mississippi,— Missis¬ 
sippi as originally spelled, and the nearest 
approach to the Algonquin word “Tho Father 
of Waters,” is Meche Sebe, a spelling still 
commonly used by the Louisiana creoles. 
Tonti suggested Miuho Hope, which is some¬ 
what nearer to the present, spelling. Father 
Luval still further modernized it into Mich- 
ispi, which another father, Lablatt, softened 
into Misispi, the first specimen of the present 
spelling The oulv changes siuee have been 
to overload the word with consonants. Mar¬ 
quette added t he first and some other explorer 
the second, so making it Mississipi. aud so it 
remains in France to this day—with only one 
p. The man who added ihe other has never 
been discovered, but he must have been an 
American, for at the time of the purchase of 
Lousiana, the name wms generally spelled in 
the colony with a single p. 
Alfred Tennyson, poet laureate, who has 
just been made an English Lord with an awk¬ 
ward title, w'as born in 1800 at Somersby in 
Lincolnshire, Eng. His father w r as rector of 
tho parish of Somersby, and Alfred was the 
third of a large family of children. Ho spent 
his early years at home, his father superin¬ 
tending his education. His home life was 
happy and gave color to some of his most fe¬ 
licitous poems. His poetic genius early 
showed itself. In 1827, when 18 years old, he, 
with his brother Charles, published a small 
volume of poems, very few of which have 
been preserved. He completed bis education 
at Cambridge and, in 1828, at the age of 20, 
gained the Chancellor’s medal at Triuity Col- 
legu by a poem in blank verse entitled “Tim- 
buctoo.” It is said the prize was awarded by 
a blunder of one of the examiners. In 1830 
Tennyson published a volume mostly of lyrics, 
und iu 18S3, a second volume. From this time 
his star ascended, at first slow'ly but ever 
higher and more brightly. 
It was Dr. Butler who said of strawberries: 
“ Doubtless God could have made a better 
berry, but doubtless God never did.” 
-» » » 
The Rural New-Yorker will be sent 
from this date until January 1st, 1885, for 
$2.00. Tell your friends of this. 
for XUoiiwiL 
CONDUCTED BY MISS RAY CLARK. 
HATS AND BONNETS. 
A bonnet is perhaps one of the most partic¬ 
ular articles of dress, because one is often 
described by the kind of hat that is worn. 
Then every one should try to have that which 
is becoming, whether it is according to the 
very latest, style or not. The large one shown 
in our engraving is a felt bat, simply trimmed 
with velvet ribbon, and so easily accomplished 
that one can follow copy. A dark green, or 
blue felt, using velvet ribbon, the same shade, 
is quite neat. 
The other engraving is that of n hat suitable 
for a girl of six or seven. The crown is ruby 
colored plush, also the liniug of the brim; but 
the outside is made of satin, which is puffed, 
and finished with a full bow of ribbon. 
PORTIONS FOR THE NEEDY. 
It is an old proverb that, “he whose Christ¬ 
mas feast is shared by none, mil have misfor¬ 
tune all the year.” The old superstition has 
its basis in sound Christian philosophy, for the 
promises are very full and abundant of even 
temporal blessings to those who remember 
God’s poor. Surely at no season is such re¬ 
membrance more appropriate tliau at this 
blessed season when we commemorate the 
best gift of all to our world, and when we are 
ourselves made glad by the loving remem¬ 
brances of our friends. 
Hard and unsocial indeed must be the 
heart which iu the midst of abundance can 
shut itself up and say in offeet; “Am 1 my 
brother’s keeper?” “I have no more than I 
want for my own.” Thrice blessed is the little 
home-mother, who finds time in the midst of 
her busy, bastling life “to send portions to 
those for whom nothing is prepared.” 
Happiness is so cheap. Just a bright basin 
of rosy apples to a family of poor children; a 
spicy pie from the long row on the shelf given 
to the poor widow and Her little lad, who can 
never taste such luxuries miless they are gifts; 
a warm pair of out-grown mittens for a pair 
of cold, blue hands; a cast-off hood, freshened 
by a bow of crimson ribbon, for some poor 
little girl shivering still iu her sun-bonnet. 
All these are real charities which are noted 
by One who does not forget even the cups of 
cold water. 
It is surprising how the ability seems to widen 
when one commences this work of doing good 
to God’s poor. Simply “giving” is not enough, 
for every one should use his substances with 
a wise discrimination. It is not charity to 
give to those who will squander it in vice. 
A man comes to my door occasionally and 
eutreate for work or the loau of a dime or two 
that “he may4>e able to goon with his work,” 
but I know that every coin he gets will go 
straight into tho rum-seller’s coffers, and not 
a penuy fur the support of his wife and child 
It is wise to steel tho heart against, such hn 
port.unities, aud tho same is true of the bog. 
gara that flock to our doors, of the genus 
tramp. Whatever helps to sustain this “in¬ 
stitution” is a damage to good morals iu the 
community. 
But there is such a thing us being too prudent 
and calculating. If we never gave to any ex¬ 
cept the most thoroughly “deserving” and 
agreeable in every sense, wo might as well 
lock up our hearts and throw aivay tho key. 
Our dear Lord bus long patience with even the 
evil and the unthunkful, and grants his good 
gifts to even such undeserving creature* 
as we are. The children of even the most 
thriftless are often great sufferers through no 
fault of their own, and any charity which 
does good to them is one thut will be blessed 
of our Father. We might see much to miti¬ 
gate our censure if we could take in all the 
causes which have led to the misfortunes of 
others. Feeble abilities mentally are often 
the cause of much that we term “.shiftless. 
ness," aud a poor training has made the dis¬ 
ability still greater. In our efforts to help the 
poor let us go to them with w ide, warm char, 
ity which our Master felt, and with a heart 
full of thankfulness to Him that we have the 
ability to do others good. Olive. 
