Writ tea for Moore’* Rural New-Yorker. 
KOBE BUDS. 
BY ALVAR BBEMAN. 
Around my door spring rose buds grew, 
Opening buds of promise fair, 
Over my heart their sweetness threw 
And left their fragrant memories there. 
Over the snow I wait and weep; 
Under the snow my rose buds sleep. 
I named my rose bads—-tear names yet— 
XxLSON, Scotto: and Emma, *weet 
“Little Laura,” the hoarehold peb— 
(0 why, my heart, so wildly beat ?) 
Over the snow I wait and weep; 
Under the snow my rose bnds Bleep. 
By blighting frost tny rose buds riven, 
Their opening pc tali closed for aye; 
Sweet zephyrs bore their breath to heaven— 
Their cherish’d perfames pass’d away. 
Over the snow I wait and weep; 
Under the enow my rose buds sleep. 
SPUING FASHIONS. 
In the always interesting article"of crinoline 
there Is a moat gratifying change. The “ tillers” 
are acknowledged by their wearers to he just 
what the newspapers called them from the first, 
an abomination, ridiculous in form and vulgar in 
idea. They are to be followed by a much smaller 
hoop, graceful, becoming and convenient for both 
out and in-door w’car. 
The fashion for bonnets is still oscillating and 
fails to indicate definitely the style that is to 
prevail. Those who venture to purchase have 
the mortification of ;-eeiug something else en¬ 
tirely new the first time they appear in their 
costly nothingnesses. One thing, however, 
seems to be pretty certain, and that i that 
there will be no such radical change in regard 
to size as has been anticipated. The small bon¬ 
net is what the late Artf.mus would have called I 
“ a success.” Handsome women, and those who 
consider themselves so, have no notion of again 
hiding their beauty in bonnets of the old coal¬ 
scuttle style; and those not included infthese 
two classes arc too insignificant in numbers to 
influence the fashions materially. Seriously, we 
believe that for summer wear the small'bonnet 
is the true Idea; and we are glad to see it 
perpetuated. 
The gored dress, so long in fashion, will be the 
prevailing style for the coming season. It is 
made plain at the top—or with plaits at the 
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is the true idea; and we are glad to see it 
perpetuated. _ From a Picn.un by i 
The gored dress, so long in fashion, will be the -- 
prevailing style for the coming season. It is hour has come, and the spirit is leaving its cas- 
madc plain at the top—or with plaits at the Let, who can so gently close the eyes and press 
back, according to taste. For the house the the last kiss on lip and brow of him she loved in 
skirt is very wide at the bottom, with a long life and mourns in death ? Ah! is not woman 
train. For receptions tills skirt is very suitable, indeed man’s guardian angel? Is not her mis- 
In street dresses, there is a decided aud appa- 8 ' 0n a noble one, if she but faithfully perform 
rently popular change. The short dresses, with it • God help her to do her work well! 
petticoat to match, are a great improvement Una of Clay. 
upon the looped-up dresses, with trains which 
would sometimes escape from the best of loop- BEAUTY OF OLD PEOPLE, 
ers to sweep the streets. These short dresses ,, . ' , , 
require a sacquc or jacket to be worn with them, „ Men aBd "f* oxrn be , au V 
and are gcncrallv made en mite. Shawls cannot lhc,r ° wa U * lines f: Uord Ly ton speaks of a 
. ^- 1*1 41 ' <1 _man who “ was uglier than he had any business 
be worn with them; they have too heavy a look, , , „ , ... . 
, . ,, , , , to be;” and if be could but read it, every human 
anti arc not graceful with the new short dress. , . ’ ., 
, . ' . .. , , , 4 -i bcimr carries his lile m h;s face, aud is good look - 
Tho abort dresses for the street are made plain at , h , “‘ , * 
. - * i , •• tk.i, i. J ,, , Ing or the reverse as that life has been good or 
the top. or with plaits at the back, both of which ?, , , .* 
r ,^-, 4 K evil. On ©ur features the fine chisel ol thought, 
arc fashionable. The skirt is usually cut with , . ,, , „ . , . 
. . . , „ , . ^ and emot on is eternally at work. Beauty is not 
points around the bottom, aud is worn orer a,, . „ 
... . ... . - . . , , , .. tbe monopoly ot blooming young men, and of 
plaited petticoat ol the same material—but the , 1 . ., * ' . h . 
F X i n a , • i , white and pink maidens. There is a slow-growing 
petticoat is now often made plain, and when . * , , . . .. °. ,, 
‘ . . ... , . , , . ' , , , . beauty which only comes to perfection in old 
trimmed with graduated bauds of velvet is very J .... , 
f , -4 4 ,- a?e. Grace belongs to uo period of life, and 
pretty, and many prefer it to the plaited. Every- . . ,, , .. . , . . 
,, ' , j goodness Improves the longer it exists. I have 
thing m the way of dress la elaborately trimmed. - rtri n e lln a4WMttv thfln 
RIDING HOOD. 
Sir Edwin Landseer. 
Writ ten tor Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WOMAN’S MISSION. 
Is it to repine when not appreciated, to mourn 
when betrayed by those she has trusted, find 
fault with her lot and wish she had more power? 
Nay, verily ; it is to love and be loved again, to 
use the power of love, kindness, patience and 
forbearance, with which God has endowed her, 
for the upbuilding of His cause and for His glory. 
If, as Frankiun says, “man’s happiness is 
God’s glory,” surely woman’s power is unlimit¬ 
ed ; for from the cradle to the grave she watches 
over man. As a mother she presses the first kiss 
on his infant brow, watches him as he takes the 
first step, sympathizes with him in his first sor¬ 
row, chides her wayward boy for his first wrong¬ 
doing, telling him the sin or folly of such a 
course, shares with him his hopes and fears, 
strives, by example and precept, to leach him to 
do right, and overlooks and forgives what the 
world would condemn. 
As a sister, she may watch over the brother so 
loved, and be so kind and loving to him, sharing 
his confidence and never betraying it, that, for 
her and his mother’s sake, he will respect all 
womankind. 
As a friend, how wide the scope! A friend, 
oh how much is comprised in that one word! 
Friend, warning, advising, telling him truths 
which man dare not tell man; yet he will hear 
and heed them from woman’s lips till, for her 
sake, he leaves the wine cup, the dissolute com¬ 
panion, the gambling saloon and all other places 
where his character is blackened and his soul 
ruined. 
As a wife, how much stronger the tie! The 
twain one — neither perfect without the other- 
partner with him in every care, joy or sorrow— 
never doubting. Though the world forsake him 
and cast hirn out as evil, she can still fiud 
some redeeming trait in his character, ever hop¬ 
ing, trusting and clinging to him, till he partake 
of her hope and faith and come off conqueror. 
And when sickness or age has bowed the stal¬ 
wart form, who like woman can minister unto 
him? Let her come in either guise, mother, 
sister, friend or wife, whose hand so soft to press 
the throbbing brow ? Who can so sweetly whis¬ 
per words of cheer? And when the last, last 
life and mourns in death ? Ah! is not woman 
indeed man’s guardian angel ? Is not her mis¬ 
sion a noble one, if she but faithfully perform 
it? God help her to do her work well! 
Una of Clay. 
THE BEAUTY OF OLD PEOPLE. 
Men and women make their own beauty or 
their own ugliness. Lord Lytton speaks of a 
man who “ was uglier than he had any business 
to be; ” and if he could but read it, every human 
being carries his life in his face, and is good look¬ 
ing or the reverse as that life has been good or 
evil. On our features the line chisel of thought 
and emotion is eternally at work. Beauty is not 
the monopoly of blooming young men, and of 
white and pink maidens. There is a slow-growing 
beauty which only comes to perfection in old 
age. Grace belongs to uo period of life, and 
goodness improves the longer it exists. I have 
seen sweeter smiles on a Up of seventy than 
upon a lip of seventeen. There is tbe beauty of 
youth, and there ia also the beauty of holiness—a 
beauty much more seldom met., and more fre¬ 
quently found in the arm-chair by the fire, with 
the grand-children round its knees, than in tbe 
ball-room or. promenade. Husband aud wife, 
who have fought the world side by 6 ide, who 
have made common stock of joy and sorrow, 
and grown aged together, are not unfrequently 
found curiously alike in personal appearance, 
and in pitch and tone of voice—just as twin peb¬ 
bles on the beach, exposed to the same tidal 
influences, are each other's second self. He has 
gained a feminine something, which brings his 
manhood into full relief. She has gained a mas¬ 
culine something, which acts as a foil to her 
womanhood. 
SWISS BRIDAL CUSTOM. 
I learned yesterday a bridal custom of this 
region so sensible aud proper that I shall men¬ 
tion it for the young folks at home. The custom 
of making gifts to the bride prevails here, as 
everywhere, but it is better regulated. The bride 
makes out a written list of things she will re¬ 
quire in beginning to keep- bouse, especially 
those things that are over and above what would 
naturally be furnished by her friends, and one of 
them says, “I will give her this,” aud marks 
that as provided for, another will give her that, 
and sometimes two or three more will comblue 
and furnish a more expensive present than any 
one would give alone. After the wedding, the 
couple usually start off on an excursion, and on 
their return they find their dwelling filled with 
these presents, each marked with the giver’s 
name. At the hotel where I lodged in St. Gal¬ 
lon, a bridal party of the town had the wedding 
breakfast when 1 was there, all the relatives and 
friends making a larger party than a private 
house could entereaiu. — “ Iremcus ” in ST. T. 
Observer. _ 
A lecturer was dilating upon the powers of 
the magnet, defying auy one to show or name 
anything surpassing its powers. A hearer de¬ 
murred, and instanced a young lady who used to 
attract him thirteen miles every Sunday. 
What is the difference between a pretty girl 
I and a night-cap? One is born to wed, and the 
other is worn to bed. 
dltoicd Hllsccltann. 
ABOUT CAREERS. 
A word is generally defined as “the sign <>f 
an idea; ” but there arc a few words in common 
use for which we have never been able to dis¬ 
cover any corresponding ideas. In some instan¬ 
ces, perhaps, there was originally a tangible 
| idea, whose .‘.me has survived it; but oftoner, 
we suspect, the word stands fora fanciful creation 
which only a certain class of miuds are able to 
conceive of, and even they have never attempted 
to define sharply what they mean by tbe term. 
One of the most, fanciful and mtschlijvous of 
these is that pet word of the female novelist, 
“career.’ All of their heroes, and some of 
their heroines, must have “careers.” And tbe. 
side characters, who are killed off at intervals 
through the story, are made pathetic chiefly 
from the fact that they have dtod without having 
a “career,” whtch was their darling ambition. 
What is a “career?” Is there any such 
thing ? We speak of the career of a wise states¬ 
man, or a great general, and there is a definite 
meaning attached to the word; so, too, a great 
artist, and sometimes a literary genius may have 
a career; and the dally papers too often Enter¬ 
tain us with the “career” of a cut-throat or 
a swindler, and describe minutely “the fatal 
knife ” and “ the fatal spot.” But what “ career” 
can an ordinary mechanic, farmer, merchant or 
student have that does not excite a smile on 
being called by 6 uch a name ? 
Women frequently entertain exaggerated and 
altogether erroneous ideas of a man’s opportuni¬ 
ties for “ making a mark in the world.” They 
see that from the very fact of his being a man he 
enjoys a larger liberty In certain directions than 
they can ever hope for; his sphere of action is 
wider than theirs, and the possibilities of his 
future more numerous. They Imagine what 
glorious things they might achieve if they were 
“only a man;’’ and sec no reason why all their 
brothers may not become powerful and famous 
amoug men. And &o those of them who write 
fiction take s country boy going to town to be 
one of ten thousand clerks iu a thousand stores, 
or a youth jus: entering college, and make a hero 
of him aud talk romantically about his “ ca¬ 
reer”— which, ill sober fact, means measuring 
calico or weighing cheese for a dollar a day, or 
studying four years to fiud out at the end of that 
time that yonr studies have just beguu. Some¬ 
times, though less often, they talk about a young 
lady’s “brilliant career” — which means simply 
that for “ a season ” she has spent as many nights 
as possible displaying her kaleidoscopic ward¬ 
robe, uttering and listening to flippant nothings, 
making herself an advertisement for a dancing 
master, and finally selling herseir for a good 
price to be somebody’s wife aud passing to 
oblivion. 
But these fail.cies arc not. altogether confined 
to women. ou4 of the botchers of American 
literature says, in a production which he calls a 
poem, “ It is a great thing to be a man ” — and 
to prove it he instances the fact that men build 
railroads, steamboats, «fcc. Now, the men who 
invented the locomotive and the steamboat were 
undoubtedly great, in one sense; but those who 
merely build them after patterns are no more 
great than the men who make shoes or the 
women wtio make dresses. It is trne that man’s 
field is wider than woman’s and his opportuni- 
| ties greater; but his responsibilities and the 
difficulties to be overcome are in proportion, 
and the balance is preserved. He who possesses 
a million is still poor if he owes a million. 
It is impossible to say how many boys, getting 
their ideas of life from such sources, have started 
out with the expectation of having a “cancel,” 
and in a few years, sickened and disgusted with 
failure, have settled down to drudgery and mo- 
rosenees, instead of becoming the bold, hardy 
and comfortable men they ought to have been. 
Young man, you don’t want a career, even if it 
were what female novelists tell you it la, and if 
you could have It. Suppose you gain a reputa¬ 
tion In political, social or literary circles. To- 
morrowyou die, and next week you arc forgotten. 
There U a new sign over the store, a dozen 
candidates are ready to fill your vacant office, 
your book goes to the mill and is ground up 
and made over luto a clean sheet to receive the 
effusions of a newer bard. Any fame that is not 
world-wide and enduring —anything less than 
Shakspeare’s or Lincoln’s — considered in 
itself, is contemptible. You had better govern 
yon energies 1 with the purpose of simply maklug 
as much of a man of yourself as possible, regard¬ 
less of reputation, and make the possession of 
a quiet ami pleasant home the limit of your 
ambition. In the ordinary sense of the word, 
a “career” is a trivial affair at best; and in its 
tme sense it is impossible to any but a towering 
genius or a man chosen by Providence for some 
special wLrk. 
THE MYSTERY OF EDITING. 
The world at large do not understand the 
mysteries of a newspaper; and, as in a watch, 
the hands, that are seen, are but the passive 
instruments of the epring, which is never seen ; 
so, iu a newspaper, the most worthy causes of 
prosperity are often least observed aud known. 
Who suspects tlio benefits a paper derives from 
the enterprise, the vigilance, and the watchful 
fidelity of the publisher ? Who pauses to think 
how much of the pleasure of reading is derived 
from the skill and care of the printer ? We feel 
the blemishes of printing if they exist, but sel¬ 
dom observe the excellencies. 
We cat a hearty dinner, but do not think of 
the farmer that raised the materials •thereof, or 
the cook that prepared them with infinite pains 
and skilL But a cook of vegetables, meat, pas¬ 
tries aud infinite ton-ton* has a paradisiacal office 
in comparison with an editor! Before him pass 
in review all the exebango newspapers. He is to 
know all their contents, to mark for other eyes 
the matters that require attention. HU scissors 
are to be alert, and clip with incessant Industry 
all the little items that are to gather In the news 
department. He passes in review, each week, 
every State in the Union, through the newspaper 
lens; he looks across the ocean and sees strange 
lands, and following the snn, he searches all 
around tbe world for material. It will require 
but one second's time for the readers to take in 
what two hours’ research produced. By him are 
read the manuscripts that swarm the office like 
flies in July. It is his frown that dooms them, 
it is his hand that condenses a whole page into 
a single line. It is his direct sternness that re¬ 
stricts sentimental obituaries, that gives young 
poets a twig on which to sit and sing their first ' 
lays. 
And tlic power behind the throne, in news¬ 
papers as in high places, is sometimes as im¬ 
portant as the throne Itself. Correspondents, 1 
SaBBal| Mea&iag. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE LAND OF LIFE. 
BY ELIZA O. CR08BY. 
An old man stands by tbe river side. 
The winds of winter are chill 
And toss o’er his brow his hoary hair, 
Like the fleecy snow, at will: 
“Art still tn the land of the living V 
One cries, 'mid bnatle and care; 
The old man gazed beyond the tide— 
“Oh. no I but I’m almost there.” 
Almost iu the land of the living 1 
The waters of Death roll near, 
No murky tide enveloped in cloud, 
But shining and crystal clear. 
He hears bat softened echoes 
From the far-off earthly strife, 
And light gleams o’er from the land beyond— 
The beautiful Land of Life. 
Almost in the land of the living! 
He thinks how the angel dim. 
With his blighting hand has made the earth 
A vale of shadi>w to him; 
Yet ever over each gloomy cloud 
The light of God's mercy played; 
And near him now ilea the land of life 
Where never shall fall a shade. 
The chilling winds of winter shall ne’er 
Blow there by the crystal stream: 
A-crown of glory in Heaven’s own light 
The snow of his hair shall gleam: 
With full fruition of holy hopes 
The beautiful realm is rife. 
Patient and calm by the tide he waits— 
Almost in the Land of Life. 
Orangeport, N. T. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
ONLY A NEIGHBOR. 
She was only a neighbor, so why should I lin¬ 
ger by the window overlooking the deserted cot¬ 
tage, with tear-dimmed eyes, and sighs of real 
heart sorrow welling up from my inmost soul ? 
So asked another neighbor. But why? Aye, 
she was in heart and deed more than a neigh¬ 
bor, and we had that morning parted, perhaps 
forever; and a sense of loneliness ’and sorrow 
pervaded my being. Only a neighbor but to all 
her fellow beings a loving, gentle sister, in all 
save tbe kindred tie. She could stand by the 
bedside of suffering with words of hope and 
comfort; and with healing in the touch of her 
gentle hand bathe the fevered brow and smooth 
the snowy pillow for the restless, aching head. 
Her step is light, her voice low and sweet, and 
her presence brings a smile of welcome to the 
invalid’s countenance, nor can one feel gloomy 
in her society. The ill mother rests contented 
and happy, when she takes upon her knee the 
little, noisy, neglected bay, and combs out with 
a gentle hand hia tangled curls, and tells him 
stories in a soft., calm voice that causes him to 
forget his noisy play, aud the weary mother 
rests In quiet. Sms Is ever ready to lend a help¬ 
ing hand; and in the social circle or the house 
of mourning she is a welcome guest, to comfort, 
to aid, and to encourage. No selfishness finds a 
lodging in her breast, which is filled only with 
compassion for the suffering and the needy. 
Like the good Samaritan, she stops and binds 
up the wounds and encourages the faint-hearted. 
Her neighbors’ interests arc her own, and she 
shares with the needy her prosperity. She is 
occasional or regular, stand in awe at that silent 0n ly a neighbor, it is true; but there is suf- 
power which has the last chance at an article, Sclent reason to gaze with sorrow over to the 
aud may&end it forth in glory or iu humility, deserted cottage, that will never more be cheered 
And, in short, as the body depends upon good with her gentle presence. j. m. i. 
digestion, so the health of a paper depends upon ---- 
the Vigorous digestiou Which goes on by means Written for Moore’s Karat New-Yorker, 
of the editor. BETHLEHEM. 
Ought they not to be houored? And since _ 
little fame attends them, they should at least Wuat sacred emotions fill the soul at the 
have their creature comforts multiplied. From mention of Bethlehem ! What deep prophetic 
that dark aud dismal den in which they have truths are uttered concerning the nativity of 
so long had purgatorial residence, they are at 
length translated !—Henry Ward Beecher. 
WIT AND WISDOM. 
Where boasting ends, there dignity begins. 
Forgiveness, after the heart is broken, is par¬ 
don after execution. 
If a man empties his purse into his head, no 
man can take it from him. 
The violet grows low, and covers itself with 
its own tears. Such is humility. 
The brain and the stomach seem to be in op¬ 
position to each other; when the latter is empty 
the former is most active. 
Mankind have been learning for six thousand 
years, and few have learned yet that their fellow- 
beings are as good as themselves. 
A leveler perceiving two crows flying side 
by side, said:—“Ay, that is just how it should 
be; I hate to see one crow over another.” 
There arc 370 churches in Moscow, and all 
the bells were ruDg at one time on the occasion 
of a royal marriage. The clanging was fearful. 
A writer called at a printer’s and accused the 
compositor of not having punctuated his poem, 
when the typo earnestly replied, “ I’m not a 
pointer —I’m a Setter." 
“ Are them all Bibles ?” asked a man the other 
day in the register’s office, pointing to the big 
volumes of wills upon the shelves. “No, Bir,” 
answered one of the clerks, “those are testa¬ 
ments.” 
All’s for the best 1 be sanguine and.cheerful, 
Trouble and Borrow are friends in disguise, 
Nothing but folly goes faithless and fearful, 
Courage forever is happy and wise. 
All’s for the best 1 if a man would but know it, 
Providence wishes us all to be blest; 
This is no dream of a pundit or poet. 
Heaven is gracious, and—all’s for the best 1 
our Saviour. “ And thou Bethlehem in the 
land of Judah, art not the least among the 
princes of Judah : for out of thee shall come a 
Governor, that shall rule my people Israel.” 
More than eighteen centuries have rolled away 
6 lnce the shepherds of Judea watched on-the 
plains of Bethlehem, listening to the angelic 
strains, “ Glory to God in the highest, and on 
earth peace, good will toward men.” Since 
then the name of Jesus, dear to millions, has 
bowed the heart w’herever it haa been pro¬ 
claimed. And at this period, sublime with the 
march of Christianity, the name of Jasus, up¬ 
held on the starry banner of the cross, pours the 
oil of healing on the stricken, the suffering and 
the oppressed with“ruagie power. The pilgrim 
goes and comes from this sacred spot deeply 
impressed with the sanctity of the place. The 
Christian grows strong in faith, expecting the 
fulfillment of the divine prophecy when the Sou 
of God shall appear in all his glory descending 
to judge the nations of the earth. 
Wm. D. Ension. 
Deceiving Ourselves. —Oh! how easy it is 
to deceive ourselves, and to sleep and wish that 
heaven may fall down into our lap! Time, cus¬ 
tom, and a good opinion of ourselves, our good 
meaning and our lazy desires, our fair shows, aud 
the world’s glistering lusters, aud these broad 
gaudy ornaments and deckings of religion that 
bear bulk iu the church, is that wherewith most 
satisfy themselves; but a pillow watered with 
tears for the bids of the land, is rare to be found 
among us. 
Present to au ordinary man the maxim, 
“ Love your enemies;” you may hear him sigh 
as he answers that the saying is divine; and he 
fears that he will never practice it. The reason 
is that he h 3 s au enemy aud fully understands 
what it is to love him, and also what it is to hate 
him .—Beer Homo. 
