Written for Moore's Karat New-Yorker. 
OUT IN THE CLOVER. 
Summer s smile is ou the earth 
Bias skies bending over. 
And their hearts are gay with mirth 
Out amid the clover; 
Qnt amid the clover green 
With its blossoms bonnie. 
They're a tnorrie group I ween; 
Nettie, Burt, and Johnnie. 
From my window I can see 
All their mirth and pleasure. 
They arc ull the world to me, 
My home's dearest treasure; 
Watching thus their merrte piny 
My heart has turned a rover, 
I’m a child again to-day 
Oat amid the clover. 
Darling children! soon these hours 
Must vanish, and forever, 
But they'll leave nnfadlng flowers 
That shall wither never; 
May they be as free from blight 
When youth’s morn is over, 
As these hours of sweet delight 
'Mid the crimson clover. a. e. h. 
FARMERS’ WIVES. 
The reading of essays by the ladies is one of 
the exercises which give life and interest to the 
meetings of the Springfield (Vt.) Farmers’ Club. 
From one of the essays by Mrs. Daniel Rice, 
published in the Vermont Farmer, we copy the 
following paragraph: 
“Did you ever think of the amount of thought 
requisite to plan three meals a day for three 
hundred and sixty live days in succession ? To 
prepare enough and not too much, and for those 
living at a distance from the village to remem¬ 
ber that the stock of flour, sugar, tea, etc., Is 
replenished in due time? Do you ever think of 
the multitude of her cares oud duties ? She 
must rise early to prepare breakfast or oversee 
it. Perhaps there are children to wash, drees, 
and feed, or to get ready for school, with their 
dinners. There is baking, sweeping, dusting, 
making beds, lunch for the men, may be—dinner 
and supper to be made ready at the proper time 
—the washing, starching, folding and ironing of 
the clothes—the care of milk, including the 
ruakiugof butter and cheese—and the inevitable 
washing of dishes. In autumn there is the ad¬ 
ditional work of picking, preserving, canning of 
fruit, drying apples, boiling cider, making apple 
sauce, with the still more nupleasant task which 
falls to her lot at butchering time. Then there 
is haying, harvesting, sheep shearing, etc., when 
more help is needed, bringing an increase of 
her labors. Twice a year comes house-cleaning. 
By the way, of all the foes a housekeeper has to 
contend with, dirt is the greatest. She may 
gain a complete victory, and think to repose 
upon her laurels after her seoil-aumml engage¬ 
ments, but it is only temporary. The enemy 
soon returns, and even daily skirmishing does 
not keep it at bay. There is the mending, too. 
Sewing machines are a great blessing, but they 
can’t set in a patch or dam the stockings. I do 
not mention these things by way of complaining 
of woman’s lot in geneal, or asking for her any 
rights she does not possess. I don’t know as 
there is any remedy in the present state of the 
world. It seems to be oue of the evils of life 
which most be borne as we bear other Ills—but 
what I do ask, is a due appreciation of tbe im¬ 
portant part that woman acts, and a concession 
that her labors, mental and physical, are as 
great, all things considered, as those of the other 
Bex. Women are not so childish that a little 
sympathy now and then, or acknowledgment of 
their efforts and sacrifices make them imagine 
their case worse than it is. 1 tell you, men and 
husbands, * It doeth good like a medicine,’ and 
many a poor, crushed, broken-down wile and 
mother is dying for the want of it.’’ 
HOME TOILETTES. 
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T IE E LITTLE QUEEN 
THE WOOLS 
A 3 fit for this midsummer season, when WC long for shaded forests and babbling brooks, we give a fine engraving of a charming picture 
by J. G. Brown of New York. The little Queen of tbe Woods has wandered in this forest fairy-land at her own sweet will, woven her floral 
crown, and stopped to rest in the welcome shade of the great rock against which she leans._____ 
The sparkling “Jennie June” discourses of 
these matters as follows:—The visitors to New¬ 
port, Saratoga, Niagara and other well known 
localities, will not be as numerous as usual 
probably, but the dressing will be very light, 
very gay and more brilliant than ever, if one may 
judge from the present indications. 4 
For races, yachting, walking, boating and 
traveling, the short dress wiil be found very 
useful and will be most universal. It is made 
now almost entirely without plaits, sometimes 
quite so; so narrow indeed that three mouths 
ago, oue should have been frighteued at it. The 
short, straight sac or palotoy, with loose or fiaug- 
itg sleeves, invariably accompanies the short 
dreajes. 
Foi visiting and ceremonious occasions, the 
drosses -an not be too narrow or too long. 
Trained, shaped with long gore-cut breadths, 
generally sti'ctly defined by the trimmings, they 
form a marvcl»tis contrast to the rotund styles 
of few years ago. For young ladies a great many 
little white short >uits are made, the trimming 
of lilac, mauve blue or violet, and band to the 
petticoat of the qpntiigHng color, stitched on 
with white in the cm bra 5 *^ e tieli, These suits 
are made of white mohair, $ e Uiine, and oth¬ 
er soft, fine materials, and „ x . v ery Stylish for 
summer season wear. 
For traveling dresses, liueu p>pu n j s in great 
demand. It it a light, pretty ma,. r [ a i made 0 f 
silk and linen, but not very well fiflaited f or ex . 
posuxe to all kinds of weather. 
The fashionable method of wearing u, B a j r 
now is to mass it high, in a woudertul kuo or 
in clustering curls, with one or two long ol, s 
floating down the neck at the sides and at the! 
back. LitUe girls’ hair is combed out au nature!, 
Knots of ribbon with floating ends are worn 
by little boys upon the left shoulder. They 
should be the color of the little ncck-tie. 
The prettiest dresses for liLllc girls are made 
in two colors, tbe upper dress being strapped up 
at t'ue side over the under-skirt precisely like 
their mamas. White foulard dotted with blue, 
with blue side straps aud plain blue under-skirt, 
forms a pretty combination, 
THE HOUSEHOLD TYRANT, 
But few things have been better said than the 
following on “ the baby,” by RalpbJW aldo^Em- 
erson: 
“ The smaU despot asks so little that all nature 
and reason are on his side. His ignorance is 
more charming than all knowledge, and his little 
sins more bewitching than any virtue. Ail day, 
between his three or four sleeps, he coos like a 
pigeon house, sputters aud spurns, aud puts ou 
his faces of importance; and when he fasts tbe 
little Pharisee fails uot to sound his trumpet be¬ 
fore him. Out of blocks, thread, spools, cards 
aud checkers, he will build bis pyramid with the 
gravity of Palladio. "With ou accoustie appara¬ 
tus of whistle aud rattle he explores the laws of 
sound. But chiefly, like his senior couutrymeu, 
the voung American studies new and speedier 
modes of transportation. Mistrusting the cun¬ 
ning of his own legs he wishes to ride ou the 
necks and shoulders of all flesh. The small en¬ 
chanter nothing can withstand—no seniority of 
age, no gravity of character; uncles, aunts, 
cousins, grand sires, graudames—all lull an easy 
prey, he coul'oims to nobody, all conform to 
him; all caper and make uiouths and babble aud 
chirrup to him. On the strongest shoulders he 
rides and pulls the hair of laureled heads.” 
€|oke ^fftisccttaan. 
HABIT. 
BY JOHN askham. 
The “Mane” Style.— The attempt to intro¬ 
duce the fashion of wearing the hair unre¬ 
strained and flowing is making slow progress. 
Two ladies recently appeared at an evening party 
iu Paris with their hair simply held by a small 
gold bandeau of antique form, set with precious 
stones. Another made her appearance with this 
difference, it was divided iuto two portions aud 
fastened together with strings of pearls. 
At the Princess Matmlde's usual Sunday eve¬ 
ning reception in Paris, recently, the event ot 
the evening was that the first Siamese Embassa¬ 
dor was accompanied by his wife, who has never 
before appeared in a Parisian talon. This lady 
was dressed in the court, costume of her ow n 
,country—a rich silk dress with gold embroidery. 
hue is very little, dark cotnplejdoned, of course, 
waved by being damped aud braided at night or a nm ier tiuy Bands are not bigger than those of 
curled up underneath and put in a net. : a c hik elevea years old. 
Habit at first is but a silken tread. 
Fine as the light-winged gossamers that sway 
In the warm sunbeams of a summer's day; 
4 A shallow streamlet, rippling o’er it’s bed; 
A tiny sapling, ere its roots arc spread; 
A yet unhardened thorn upon the spray; 
A lion's whelp thut hath not scented prey; 
A little smiling child obedient led. 
Beware 1 that thread may bind thee as a chain; 
That streamlet gather to a fatal sea. 
That Eapling spread into a gnarled tree; 
That thorn, grown hard, may wound and give thee 
pain; 
Thai, playful whelp his murderous fangs reveal; 
That child, a giant, crush thee ’neath his heel. 
THE ABUNDANCE OP BEAUTY. 
One of the most remarkable things in the 
world is the abundance of beauty; of what not 
only feeds, clothes, and outwardly serves the ma¬ 
terial needs of men, but also pleases the senses 
and the soul, feeding and comforting the finer 
faculties. God, after setting before us what we 
turn into bread aud raiment, and houses and 
books, gives us the benediction of beauty, as 
au unexpected graee after meat. 
The grass which springs up in the cracks of 
city streets, or which the fanner’s ox licks up 
bv mouthfuls iu the meadows,—what a beautiful 
thing it Is iu shape, iu color how exceeding fair! 
How attractive are the grains to the eye, from 
the bearded grain for horses, which loves the 
northern lauds, to that queen of cereal plants, 
southern bom, and loving the sun, the Poca¬ 
hontas of graius, the great Indian Empress of 
Corn! 
The very roots that beast aud man feed on 
have a certain homely comeliness. How hand¬ 
some are the shapes of apple, pear, peach, quince 
and plum; of the acorn, the nut, the pine cone, 
yea of every leaf, from the northern thistle to 
the proud palm which claps its hands to its 
Maker's praise beneath the tropics. 
How fair are all the seeds,—those which fall 
iuto the ground, or tangle themselves in the 
feathers of birds or the hair of oxen, or those 
which float off iu their gossamer balloons and 
parachutes, ou every breath ot wind, scattering 
the parent beauty to spring up in fragrant love¬ 
liness. 
The fuel which float ou the still waters, and 
fringe the timbers of tbe wharves are lovely; 
and yet so little noticed that they have not 
the welcome of an English name, and I mast 
talk Latiu when I praise these humble things. 
It Is not alone the rich who can own beauty. 
It is a philanthropic God who made the world, 
—the world itself a commonwealth, and all its 
beauty democratic, almsgiving of tbe Almighty 
to your heart and mine.— Selected. 
LAST WORDS, 
Head of the army—Napoleon. 
I must sleep now—Byron. 
Let tbe light enter—Goethe. 
I thank God I have done my duty—Nelson. 
It is well—Washington. 
Valete at plaudite—Augustus. 
Give Dayrolle a chair—Chesterfield. 
It matters little how the head iieth—Raleigh. 
I’m shot if I don’t believe I'm dying—Thur- 
low. 
The artery ceases to beat—Heller. 
What, is there no bribing death''—Cardinal 
Beaumont. 
I have loved God, my lather aud liberty—Mad¬ 
ame De Sta*±l. 
THE OLD AND NEW. 
<1 1 
BY JOHN' G. WHITTIER. 
O, sometimes gleams upon our sight, 
Through present wrong, the eternal right ■ 
And step by step, since time began, 
We see the steady gain of man; 
That all of good the past has had 
Remains to make our own time glad, 
Our common daily life divine, 
And every Und a Palestine. 
We look hack upon eye and ear, 
To find the Orient's marvels here, 
The still small voice In Autumn's hush, 
Yon maple wood the burning hush. 
For still tbe new transcends t.he old, 
In signs and tokens manifold; 
Slaves rise up men; the Olive waves 
With roots deep set in battle graves. 
Still through the harsh notes of the day 
A low, soft prelnde finds its way. 
Through clouds of doubt and creeds of fear, 
A light is breaking, calm and clear. 
Henceforth my heart shall sigh no more 
For olden time and holier shore; 
God’s love and blessing, then and there, 
Are now, and here, and everywhere. 
THE GOSPEL OF SUMMER BEAUTY 
Nineteen hundred years have gone since 
Jesus, standing beneath tbe blue Judean sky, 
with a few disciples and some plain men and 
women about him, said of the lilies of tbe field, 
“ Solomon in all bis glory was not.arrayed like 
oue of these ; ” and yearly, through all that time 
has this marvel of summer beauty glorified the 
earth. It is indeed true that " man liveth not by 
bread alone,” but needs wherewith to feed liner 
senses, and the soul as well. 
Corn, and wheat, and grass, and treos, could 
grow in plainer style, and flowers need not 
bloom to support bodily life; but here are the 
stately beauty of the queen of cereals, the wav¬ 
ing banners of the wheat-field, the green carpet 
whereof the warp and woof of delicate grass is 
graceful in its every thread, the lilies, rich in 
their shining raiment as when Christ made the 
monarch’s robe seem poor beside them, and the 
noble grandeur of great trees. This all tells of 
spiritual harmony, aud fitness, and graee —the 
beauty of Infinite and Divine Life pulsing 
through all nature —and the Gospel preached 
by flower, and grass, and waving harvest is, 
“ Let grace, and harmony, and beauty dwell in 
every soul and be manifest iu every life, and 
thus shall man approach toward the Great 
Examplar.” 
MORAL INFLUENCE OF FARMING. 
There is a decided moral tendency in the 
direct and close dealing, if we may so 6 peak, 
between tbe farmer and his God. They work 
together. God has ground this realm (so geolo¬ 
gists tell us) into a somewhat hard and thin soil. 
“ He has sent, the springs into the valleys, which 
run among the hills, and caused the grass to 
grow for the cattle, and herb for tbe service of 
man.” These gifts are in the rough. The 
condition of their true enjoyment is useful and 
health-giving labor. Tbe gold must be gathered 
or mined, the diapiond polished; so the soil 
must be patiently wrought and duly enriched; 
the tree, the clay, the stone converted into 
dwellings, the air and sunshine into corn and 
wine. The annual covering ol the sheep, and 
the life garment of the kinc, into blankets and 
sandals. In short, labor and reward are in 
scribed on every gift of God, and none so gener¬ 
ally receive them right from the giver as those 
who till the ground. There is less intervention 
of varioloid scrip and poisonous nickels. The 
vine holds out its clusters, the rich purple all 
undisturbed. The apple, the pear, the peach 
bend their branches to the gathering, as only 
God can make them. The harvest field nods to 
the reaper, that It may become sheaves iu lib 
bosom and bread to the hungry. The broad 
bosom of tbe meadow undulates and throbs 
with every breeze until shorn ot its trophies. 
Even the forests toss their giant branches for 
shades. Is there not a sense of great nearness 
I pray you to see me safe up, and tor my com- to God amidit these blessings ? — a feeling of 
ig down, let me shirt for myself—Sir Thomas satis f ac 1 q ori ail d comfort closely allied to thanks- 
lore. giving, praise and love ?—Farm and Fireside. 
iug down, let me shirt for myself—Sir Thomas 
More. 
A dying man can do nothing easy—Frauklin. 
Let me die to the sound of delicious music— 
Mirabeau. 
Dou’t give up the ship—Lawrence. 
Clasp my hhud. my dear friend, I die—Alfieri. 
All my possessions for a moment of time !— 
Queen Elizabeth. 
Monks, monks, monks—Henry VIII. 
It is small, vc-ry small (clasping her neck)— 
Anne Boleyn. 
I resign my soul to God, my daughter to my 
country—J effersou. 
I feel as if I were myself again—Walter Scott. 
Independence forever—SamueL Adams. 
It is the last of earth—J. Q. Adams. 
Remember (the charge to Archbishop Juxton 
to bid Charles II. forgive his father’s murderers) 
—Charles I. 
I have sen* for you (Lord Warwick) to see how 
a Christian can die—Addison. 
O Lord, forgive me, especially my sius of omis¬ 
sion—Usher. 
Lord, receive my spirit—Cranmer, Hooper, G. 
Herbert. 
In te speravi, ue confuudar in etemo—Bishop 
Abbott. 
God will save my soul—Burghely. 
Aud is this deaths—George IV. 
What! do they run already ? Then I die 
happy—Wolfe. 
' Then I am safe—Cromwell. 
Let me hear once more those notes so long 
my solace and delight—Mozart. 
LITTLE CROSSES. 
Christ comes to us morning by morning to 
present to us for the day that is opening diverse 
little crosses, thwartings of our own will, inter¬ 
ferences with our plans, disappointments of our 
little pleasure. Do we kiss them and take them 
up, and follow iu hie rear, like Simon the Cyre- 
nean ? Of do we toss them from us scornfully, 
because they are so little, aud wait for some 
great affliction to approve our patience and our 
resignation to bis will. Ah, how might we ac¬ 
commodate to the small matters of religion gen¬ 
erally those words of the Lord, “ Take heed that 
ye despise not one of these little ones!’ D c " 
spise not thy little sins; they have ruined many 
a soul. Despise not little duties; they have been 
to many an excellent discipline of humanity 
Despise not little temptations; rightly met, thQ 
have often served the character for some ib-ty 
trial. And despise not little crosses; for when 
taken up, and lovingly accepted at the Lori - 
hand, they have made men meet for a g“ ll 
crown, even the crown of righteousness and to 
which the Lord hath promised them that lo\ 
him? — Dr. Ooulburn. 
The vicious die early. They fall likelsbado'V? 
or tumble wrecks and ruins into the grave— often 
while quite young, almost always before forty- 
“ The wicked liveth not half his days.” 
