► 
f 
I 
I 
M 
$ 
? 
u 
■yjr 
COMPENSATION. 
BY MARY A. E. WAOER. 
February, 1S07. 
Death came, and from my happy height. 
He »at me ou the cold, huril ground : 
The keener, from my glad delight, 
I felt his cruel wound. 
And for a year 1 groped in pain 
About a turtlcas. unnamed grave; 
1 had no more a hope to gain 
A kiss from Joy’s sweet wave. 
For he whose heart had held me up 
Into the tender air of peace. 
And for my lips filled high the cup. 
From Love's supreme release 
Was wholly gone! nor sight nor sound, 
Nor touch of lip, nor thrill of hand, 
Came lu the whole year’s weary round 
From that mysterious land 
Which human ken mokes vnguev for, 
By pictures drawn with P iet’s pen. 
Which weaves of silver clouds a stair 
From angels down to men. 
Bel In tire year that lies between 
The weary one. aud touching this, 
Sweet flowers have made the lone grave green, 
Aud blossomed Into bliss. 
And all the kindliness of speech. 
The touch of lips and clasp of hand, 
And all the good that Love can reach 
Or soul can understand. 
Have fruited from the blooms for me, 
And, garnered In my soul secure, 
Make distance like an endless sea 
Between all tilings impure. 
And so, once more. 1 sit and sing 
Where the swcot air of Fence enfolds, 
And pray, when bells of vesper ring. 
For him whose love upholds. 
New York, Feb., 1800. 
RECKLESSNESS OP HEALTH. 
BY MRS. II. M. LINCOLN. 
I can think of nothing I so nearly covet 
as health; and there are but few earthly 
blessings I would not forego to enjoy it. I 
can scarcely remember a day in my life when 
I felt thoroughly well. A large legacy of ill 
health fell to me, and for this cause I have 
studied the laws that govern physical welfare 
with uncommon interest. To my disap¬ 
pointment, 1 have found no code of laws, or 
the study of them, a sure safeguard against 
inherited ills. While my stout brothel’s and 
sinters romped all they chose and were sel¬ 
dom flick, i was weak and weary. They 
could take care of themselves,—I must be 
cared for. 
A great many people believe health only 
attainable by the toughening process, and for 
that, purpose begiu to inure the tender infant 
to a mode of dress that never protects it from 
the severe changes. I saw a mother who 
cherished this theory let her little boy of 
eighteen months sit on the carpet two hours 
together, in the severest winter weather, with 
only a short dress and thin flannel skirt, the 
merest nothings of slippers and stockings, 
while worse than all was the wet swathe 
about, the child a portion of the time. The 
little one worried constantly, was thin and 
pale, and his flesh numb with cold. Warm 
clothes and a crib to sit in would have made 
a wonderful change. Would the mother 
have dared to thus expose her health ? Would 
she have laid aside her warm flannel under¬ 
skirt, long stockings, high kid boots, long 
sleeves, and high made dress, and taken a 
seat on the floor two hours? 
Another lady, to make her boy stout, al¬ 
lowed him to run in the snow with the same 
amount of clothing on as the first child, with 
thin shoes and stockings. Would the mother 
do this herself and not he sick? I saw a 
lovely girl leave a warm room with bare head 
and arms, cotton hose and gaiters, and stand 
half tm hour in the snow, while the wind 
was blowing fiercely. I was not surprised 
when I heard her complain-of poor health. 
Others think nothing but close rooms, piles 
of clothing, and continuous indoor life will 
save their darlings from ill health. They 
wrap and luck up in down and cotton, and 
still their “house plants” don’t flourish. 
This course is as pernicious as the former, 
and deatli takes victims fast urnftr either 
mode. Children of very strong constitutions 
will endure a great deal of exposure, and 
survive with liot-house treatment.; but the 
effects of both these systems will Cause suffer¬ 
ing in later years, seldom attributed to such 
causes. Children who inherit untold ills, 
and who never know health, are exceptions 
that common laws cannot, reach or govern. 
The most cautious course is necessary to 
make them comfortable; and superior judg¬ 
ment is needed to bring them safely through 
the ailments of youth. 
The increasing recklessness that prevails 
among us makes health degenerate fast. Our 
parents and grandparents lived differently. 
There was not so much hurry and hustle; 
they were content with less, Their clothing 
was mostly home made, more durable and 
warmer, their food coarser, and their stom¬ 
achs stronger. Physicians and patent medi¬ 
cines were not ho plenty, and roots and herbs 
were carefully gathered with reference to 
almost every disease. 
To attempt to keep near the customs and 
follow their rapid changes, takes all the time 
and energy of whole families. With all the i 
machines and appendages to facilitate labor, 
those who attempt to dress in style a family 
of medium size are constantly tired, f nlcss 
abundant wealth can command everything 
done to order, without anxiety and worry, 
some one’s brows must be wrinkled, some 
one’s form bending with care. So old ladies 
and young ladies grow reckless of health and 
sacrifice it to style. 
This bondage is more burdensome and la¬ 
mentable than that our sisters are clamoring 
to have obviated by “ ballot, ’—corsets and 
tight lacing are bringing their devotees more 
sorrow than the want of more rights cau. 
Though thousands protest against a discour¬ 
aging word on this subject, it is still true 
that lacing does injure the health. Any 
mode of dress that interferes with a full and 
free respiration is injurious. Our ideas of ele¬ 
gance and beauty demand small waists; aud 
so thousands of mothers begin with the ten¬ 
der infants, never once allowing them room 
to perfectly fill the air vessels of the lungs. 
As a consequence (if they live) they are fash¬ 
ionable models. They do not have to make 
so great an exertion to become small as those 
who begin to lace at sixteen. Their mothers’ 
foresight saves them the trouble of using 
ropes at night drawn around their waist, and 
fastened to the bed-post, tn attain the desired 
model. An instance of this I knew, and the 
young lady who sacrificed her life was, by 
examination after death, found with her heart 
grown fast to her lungs. 
No young, ov unmarried lady, can judge 
correctly of the ill effects of tight lacing. 
Those who have passed the ordeal of mother¬ 
hood know lacing to he anything but safe, or 
right. The peculiar organism of woman, 
and her destiny, make it sacredly important 
that every organ be developed systemati¬ 
cally, and naturally. The aggravated suffer¬ 
ing of a large number Who become mothei : 
is the result of their own folly and inode of 
dress. Our ideas of beauty and sensible!!' 1 s 
are strangely inconsistent. Tf the lacing pro¬ 
cess is adapted to one, why not to another? 
A gentleman with whale-boned waist is 
thought a luckless dandy; but a lady, of 
more delicate organism, must be encased in 
bones and braces until her waist is only 
twelve inches in circumference to complete 
our ideal of grace. 
Did God thus fashion us, with His great 
eye for beauty, His perfect perception of 
elegance, Ills foresight of destiny ? Mother, 
answer this as you take in your arms that 
beautiful babe. Why not as justly compress 
its head, limbs and feet, a9 to press by tight 
bandages, its lungs and heart? If ignorant 
of laws that are sacred as our being, study 
them, aud teach them to your children. 
Taacli them where each organ is, and its 
office, and lmw sacred are its functions. 
Before you recklessly expose that young life, 
and destroy, by injudicious management, a 
good constitution, stop to think of flyout’ 
trust. Is respiration to be interrupted by 
your folly, and a victim reared for consump¬ 
tion? If GOP gives to your care a fragile, 
delicate blossom, arc you to crush it thought¬ 
lessly ? Can a poor guileless soul thrive in a 
body tortured and compressed and trained 
for the sole purpose of meeting the demands 
of fashion ? 
If there is one thing more than another 
the ladies of this land need, it is a complete 
and thorough knowledge of hygiene, ana¬ 
tomy, physiology, etc. And until mothers 
know more of these things, and teach them 
to their children, as they now teach them 
how they can attain the nearest ideal Mrs. 
Grundy worships, health will degenerate. 
Canandaigua, N- Y. 
--*-♦-♦- 
GOSSIPY PARAGRAPHS. 
« _ 
There are two periods in the life of man, 
at which he is too wise to tell woman the 
exact truth:—When he is in love — and 
when he isn’t. 
Two rival belles met at a hop. “How 
well you look under candlelight I” exclaimed 
One, svith a stress on the candle. “ And how 
charming you are in the dark!” answered 
the other, 
A wife wanted her husband to sympa¬ 
thize with her in a feminine quarrel, but he 
refused, saying: — “ I’ve lived long enough 
to learn that one woman’s just as good as 
another, if not better.” “And I,” retorted 
the exasperated wife, “ have lived long 
enough to know that one man is just as bad 
as another, if not tcorse /” 
An exchauge, in an article upon the pro¬ 
priety of “ round dances,” gives the follow¬ 
ing, which is worth a thought: — “A few 
years since a man well known in society— 
not young, and who did not dance—was sit¬ 
ting at a party, near a young lady, and 
watching the mazes of :t ‘German.’ He 
turned to her, knowing her well, and said: 
•I wish you would let me pat my arm 
around your waist.’ Of course she looked 
at him in amazement. * OH,” said he, ‘you 
know I can’t dance, but I don’t see tire 
difference. All these young men have their 
arms about the girls’ waists, and why should 
not I have the same privilege, though I sit 
still?”’ 
jilobes anb 
banners. 
FASHION CHIT-CHAT. 
BY MINTWOOD. 
Couutry Cousins’ Business Suits, Child’s 
Worsted Turliaus, Costumes, etc. 
Some of our country cousins were in town 
last week, and sat very near us at the theater, 
which we visit occasionally upon the same 
principle President Lincoln did. Tlio open¬ 
ing comedietta was quite amusing, aud Tom 
and Sabah enjoyed it thoroughly. Tom just 
roared with laughter, laughing longer and 
louder than any one else in the house, while 
Sarah vented her wonder and astonishment 
at the performance in various little feminine 
expressions of “Oh my!” and “Did you 
veer!" She had purchased her cloak since 
alio came to the city, and having observed 
on Broadway and Canal street that color in 
wraps was worn, selected for herself a pur¬ 
ple beaver doth, with bugle trimmings. She 
did not take into account the modest fact 
that purple can he worn becomingly but by 
few, and that all the other articles of dress 
should be In harmony with it And so in 
getting >iu Astrakhan collar and muff, she 
failed to understand that the women who 
purchase and wear these novel styles, are of 
that class who are able to, and do purchase 
novelties to be worn a few weeks, or one sea¬ 
son at the most, and never intended for stand¬ 
ard wear. 
Tom took excellent care of her, for he led 
her along by the hand, and after she sat 
down, hu drew a fold of her dress over her 
pocket, so that no thief could piek out his 
pocket-book, which he had deposited therein 
for safe-keeping. I to did not w ish to appear 
unsophisticated, and so walked straight down 
to the best orchestra seats he saw vacant, and 
took possession without the aid of an usher, 
who alter a little was compelled to invite him 
out, to make room for tho rightful owners. 
3o Tom lengthened out his arm behind him, 
and Sarah thrust hers forward, their hands 
clasped, and they moved on. 
These very same cousins we always meet 
at county fairs, mass meetings, picnic excur¬ 
sions, and the like. Such important, events 
arc. looked forward to with much interest 
Sarah puts her hair up in curl-papers, and 
Tom plasters his down with pomade. Sarah 
tics a pink lute-string about her neck, so ns 
to have loops and ends of the same fall over 
her shoulder or back. About her waist she 
binds a bine ribbon or Hash, pinning it in 
front with a huge breastpin, and has another 
at her throe*. \ black cord winds its ebony 
leugth about her neck, and is the guard to a 
gold or silver pencil, or silver watch, which 
grins from her belt. She is quite apt to wear 
a muslin dress, although the weather it a 
little cold, or forebodes rain. Tom and she 
dine at the hotel, and enter the dining-room 
with much the same air as if they were ap 
preaching tho judgment-seat.. She puts her 
arm through His in a feeble, limp, uncertain 
manner. They both appear very awkward 
and wish to know where they arc to sit, and 
wonder at the subdued laugh that comes from 
somewhere. They try to eat tho worth of 
their money, but are too much flurried for 
that, and Sarah takc-s tapioca pudding, be¬ 
cause that was all she understood of the 
waiter’s hash-like phraseology; and Tom 
stuffs die napkin in his coat pocket, and 
never discovers his mistake until he reaches 
home. He was not used to any only his 
handkerchief. 
Tom’s Sunday suit of black looked sorry 
enough. True, he harnessed liis horses be¬ 
fore putting it cm, but somehow traces get 
unhooked, the horses need watering, or, per 
haps, it has been convenient to take a bug of 
grain as far us the mill So Ins sanctiraoni 
ous suit gets a loving dab from the wheel, the 
horses slabber on it, and at the mill it gets 
floured beautifully, nu tries to brush of 
the dust and dirt, but it does not help mat 
ters much, and he swears a little, but only to 
himself, if he is a church member. 
After a couple of years, his Sunday suit is 
worn every day, and one secs a seedy look, 
mg man in a decayed beaver, that reminds 
one of a “ carpet-bagger,” come in town t< 
mill, or to get blaeksmithiug done, or bring 
ing his wife to do some shopping or trading 
Black broadcloth, when new and clean, cer 
tuinly becomes most men well, but a man 
should do business in a band-box if he ex 
pects to look well long. Nevertheless, there 
are some shades of brown and lighter hue 
that are equally becoming, and infinitely 
preferable. It is yet to be proven that church 
or ordinary ceremonies, require a cowl-likc 
suit of black. It i3 a miserable piece of 
economy, or taste, or anything you may be 
pleased to call it, for farmers or business men 
to buy black clothes. We are sure that many 
a man who lms endured the martyrdom of 
trying to feel comfortable and free in a Sun¬ 
day suit of black, will appreciate our sym¬ 
pathy with him. We ought to know, for we 
had a black cloth dress not long since, and 
with brushing it sixteen times a day and 
going over it with benzine and soap once 
each week, we managed to wear it through 
the winter, although painfully conscious of 
the demoralizing effects it produced by daily 
trading from our well known and ac¬ 
knowledged amiability. A Iricml of ours, 
who was brought up on the black broadcloth 
regime, revolted at length, and now appears 
at church aud elsewhere in habiliments of a 
ess sombre and painstaking character, and 
lias tho reputation of being the best dressed 
man in his town. 
h e saw a pretty turban on a little girl’s 
lead the other clay, which may be easily du¬ 
plicated. It was crocheted of chinchilla 
worsted, the crown shaped to fit over a round 
form and the narrow upturned rim edged 
with cherry, might have been held iu shape 
by a tiny wire. There were car lappets of 
the same, but the crowning feature was grad¬ 
uated shades of red, formed into loops to 
simulate a plume, and was much prettier 
and more suitable than a genuine ostrich 
would have been. 
Party aud dinner dresses are mostly en cos- 
^ablntfl) lieahing. 
F02 WHAT ARE WE TOILING 1 
BY A. K. H. 
FOR what are we toiling, (tear frtond, you and I? 
As we mark the swift years lu tlia hours that ily, 
When wo close up the page, with another year done, 
Haro wo linislied the tattle, the victory won ? 
No! still us tho days In their swift night move on, 
Wo gird on our armor tho contest unwon; 
Now hopeful, now fainting, our onrth-weary souls, 
Wo atom tbo wild billow that over us rolls. 
For what are we toiling? When senseless and dumb, 
To our bed in the greensward slowly we come, 
Shall this bo the end of our joys or our l'eur3. 
The toll of a lifetime, the struggle of years ( 
For whntnre wo toiling, ’mid doubting nnd strife? 
Is it merely to live that we cling unto life? 
As we udd day to day In the path wo have trod, 
Are we nearer the Kingdom and nearer to Qou? 
--.— 
CHRISTIAN CORDIALITY. 
turn, that, is, of two colors. Colored silk 
dresses, rather passe, may have their defects 
hidden, or modified, by uu overdrew of black 
grenadine, looped up ton, tunic’s length,or 
cut off and edged with a flounce. If worn 
over a black silk slip, the grenadine should 
bo enlivened with an edge, or melting of 
color. Such a costume Is suitable for dinner 
or evening parties. 
The ball season lias developed some mar¬ 
vellous dresses, of which none are hand¬ 
somer than those of Mettornich green, 
trimmed with folds of white satin, with lace 
or netted fringes In white. Sashes arc worn 
short and in deep loops at the back. Rut¬ 
iles to the waist arc gaining in favor. 
Hair dye below par, for gray hair anti 
powdered wigs, or powdered hair, (if one 
has any to powder) is at a premium. We 
arc not supposed to be in favor of “ powder¬ 
ing” because we Chronicle this fact. We 
only want: to say that we never trust a man 
who dyes his hair or beard. 
Heavy satin parasols with Angora fringe 
are affected, nnd are quite a comfort to the 
bonneted gentlewomen, on these dazzling 
winter days, when the sun flashes into their 
eyes so impudently. 
We heard a physician say the other day 
that the fashionable swinging of the right arm, 
in voguo with the Fifth Avenue belles, was 
a very good fashion, as it tends to develop 
the chest. 
A morning wrapper worn by one of the 
Avenue fashionables, is of the finest scarlet 
French merino, trimmed and bordered with 
a feather baud which cost six hundred dol¬ 
lar A long saeqnc of the same, worn with 
it, is thickly studded with tiny jet crystals. 
The Paris journals announce the death of 
the pannier. Fashion hath taken away, and 
blessed be the name of fashion. Of all the 
ugliness, grossness, moan suggeativenesa, lu- 
dicrousness, outrages upon decency, sense, or 
public endurance, the pannier was the key¬ 
stone, the cap sheaf, the out-heroding Herod. 
That such a thing would be worn by women 
unhlushingly, and viewed bv men with toler 
ution, is pi oof that there is no understandim 
anybody, and that the world has gone stark 
mad. The undress of a ballet dancer is re¬ 
ligion in comparison, as it makes no attempt 
at distorting the human form divine. But 
these puffed up, looped np, tied up, stuffed, 
bowed, fringed, pointed, notched, handed, 
strapped, slashed, humpty-dumpty cxcres 
ccnces, abutments, boulders, bay-windows, 
barreled affairs, or whatever you may be 
pleased to term them, are a libel on God’s 
fairest aud best c reation. If we were a man, 
we would no sooner be seeu with a pannier 
in tow than, being a woman, we would 
advertise our capabilities by walking with a 
waxed mustached article, with hair parted 
in the middle and leading a poodle dog by u 
string- That creatures should bend a la Orec, 
or a la Dromedary , with such an establish¬ 
ment at the rear, is not strange. 'The only 
regret is that they don’t break. 
We say “all hall,” and applaud to the 
encore anything new in art that is beautiful 
sensible, or comfortable. But when beauty 
is worse than caricatured—aye, traduced and 
betrayed, beheaded and befooted, we long for 
monarchical power to hung, in hopeless sus¬ 
pense, a millstone about ihe neck ol fashion- 
mongers. 
But the pannier is dead, at least the head 
of the monster is laid low. We hope the 
funeral pile will be heaped high with Gre¬ 
cian bends, “ bustles,” chignon stuffing am 
poodles. 
--- 
ScoTcn Pi \rt.h—T hese ornaments have 
again come into fashion. The revival of the 
public taste in their favor may be attributec 
partly to the recent failure of the Manaar 
fisheries in Ceylon, partly to the cheapness 
of the western gem, and in some measure 
perhaps, to the fact that large quantities o 
Scottish pearls have been purchased by 
Queen Victoria and the Empress Eugenie. 
Some fifteen years ago these pearls were 
scarce and highly esteemed; but, owing to 
the exertions of a German merchant, and 
the care taken by him to select and exhibit 
the best specimens, the trade has very largely 
revived. 
Surely the. love of Christ In the heart 
ought to warm it to a tender, sympathetic 
cordiality. What should welcome a stranger 
to any circle, if noi Christian regard ? What 
but thia should make the solitary glad with 
cheerful fellowship ? 
We fear that churches do not fulfill thru- 
wliolc duty in this matter of cordiality to¬ 
ward strangers,— especially churches in the 
arge towns, in the country, fellowship is 
more close, and hearts are warmed with a 
more ready sympathy. But in the towns 
there frequently exists a coldness of feeling, 
an exclusive reserve, which is not in keep¬ 
ing with tho true spirit of Christian love. 
The work of Christian churches at largo 
is not only to win souls to righteousness, but 
to keep them from every unholy association. 
As temptations of various kinds lie all 
around us, there cannot be too many re¬ 
straining influences employed, particularly 
in behalf of youth. Let a young man 
enter a city, or any large village, fresh from 
the pure atmosphere of home, and with some 
of his time unoccupied by study or business, 
and his situation is indeed a perilous one. 
He may be actuated by upright principles, 
and at tin: outset feel a genuine repugnance 
to aught savoring of evil; but his habit of 
doing well is not sufficiently strong to pre¬ 
vent its breaking, and hia principles may he 
undermined by insidious efforts. 
For his coni inued uprightness the Chris¬ 
tian individually, and the Christian church 
us an organization, are deeply responsible, 
If Christian cordiality does not give him 
hearty greeting, provide him with worthy 
companionship, offer him means of honestly 
yet entertainingly spending his leisure, and 
gladden him with its open-heartedness, he 
will just as surely go astray as lie is human. 
Hundreds and thousands of humanity’s 
wrecks were once frank, noble boys, prayed 
for by prayerful mothers, mayhap prayerful 
themselves; but they went out into the world, 
were not upheld by Christian society, and — 
they sunk. 
Responsibilities are things which cannot 
always lie dodged. A corporate business 
responsibility, may not, in all instances, 
directly involve the individual, but. a moral 
responsibility is a direct, personal ihiug — 
personal to every conscience. We arc, then, 
individually responsible lur any neglect or 
disregard of hearty Christian cordiality. 
We cannot throw careless coldness in the 
treatment, of strangers upon “our Church,” 
and leave the sin to be charged to the account 
of a shadowy organization,with no personality 
to answer for it. In the Great Judgment we 
shall he judged each for himself. 
-4-*-*- 
CHRISTIANS AND MORALISTS- 
A Christian is one who is positive. A 
moral man is a vine that does not bear fruit 
But then it bears everything else — good 
leaves, a good strong stem, a healthy root, 
everything that is good and nice In it, except 
the fruit. A Christian man is one that de¬ 
velops graces into positivity. He acts out of 
himself and upon others. A moral man is 
like an empty bottle, well corked, so that no 
defilement can get into it—so that it may he 
kept pure within. Pure? And what is the 
use of a bottle that is pure, if it is empty 
and corked up? A moral man, I repeat, is 
a negative. He does not swear, he does not 
steal, and he dues not murder, and he does 
not get drunk, and his whole life is not. His 
language is, “ Thou Shalt not" and “ Thou 
shaft not , and “ Thou slialt not" He is not 
all over, and nothing more! He is not posi¬ 
tive.— Rev, II. Tl' Beecher. 
■ — —' " ** 
Tiif, prayer wllicit Socrates taught his 
disciple Alcibiades deserves a place in the 
devotions of every Christian ■- — “ That he 
should beseech the supreme God to give him 
what was good for him, though he should 
not ask it, and to withhold from him what 
would be hurtful, though lie should be so 
foolish a3 to pray for it.” 
-<-*-*■- 
The Bible is a very large, wide forest, 
wherein stand trees, of all kinds, from which 
we can gather many kinds of fruits. 
„ -rSv 
V 
