“NOT AT HOME.” 
gabies' jjorf-Jfolio. 
THE LOST GIFT. 
BY MARIE S. LADD. 
So gay und light, her smile so bright. 
They called her merry K ate ; 
You cared not wluit the hour of night. 
If slio stood at the gate. 
If you were racked on fortune’s wheel, 
She soothed with finest skill— 
Yet never were you made to feel 
Subject to her sweet will. 
But she who wrought those pleasing spells, 
Sits, now, the weary day. 
From early dawn to evening bells, 
Without org word to say. 
On last Forefather’s Day. a ship, 
While coming up the sound. 
Bound homeward from an outward trip, 
Was wrecked, and all were drowned. 
A rumor flies,—if it he true,— 
The Captain's second mate, 
Who perished with that fated crew. 
Would soon have wedded KATE. 
However that, her smile ts strnnge, 
And now she droops her head, 
And If you note the gloomy change, 
She sighs, “ The gift has tied.” 
- +-*-+ - 
A WINTER MORNING. 
BY ALIQUA. 
The Night has trailed her shadowy gar¬ 
ments away over the western hills, and an¬ 
other day is with you. The wind shouts a 
wild morning greeting, and brings to you 
the sound of children’s voices ; for t lie young 
“lords of creation” across the street are 
early astir, and with their faithful playmate, 
Bruno, are holding high carnival among the 
drifting snow-heaps. You catch the ring of 
their laughter, and watch them as they bury 
the dog under the tloeey snow to see him 
shake it from his shaggy back and plunge 
after them. Ah! Youth and Morning 1 
Your windows are touched here and there 
with the dainty pictures of the frost,— castle 
and forest and mountain, with knight and 
lady and guarding fairies, you used to fancy 
them. And very like they are to the dreams 
of childhood; sparkling, fascinating, van¬ 
ishing away at a breath. You dream yet 
sometimes,—for who does not?—but castle 
and park are your ambition no more, lord 
and lady have passed out of your dreams, 
and good fairies —ah, you half believe in 
them yet! 
IIow the snow flies, drifting away under 
the orchard trees, where the grass will be 
soft and green, and the rosy-cheeked apples 
will fall in their mellow ripeness in seasons 
to come. Will your eyes see them ? Only 
the wind answers. 
You glance down on the garden where, in 
the season gone, the tulips blossomed gor¬ 
geously and the roses flung out their fra¬ 
grance on the breeze; where the large-eyed 
pansies looked up wondoringly at the sun, 
and the lily-bells seemed silver-tongued and 
rang out Joyously as the voices that sounded 
above them, lightly as the footsteps that 
wandered up anti down the graveled paths. 
Brides lingered there and gathered the white 
blossoms for their hair; coquettish maidens 
matched their blue eyes or the rose-color of 
their cheeks among the flowers, and fastened 
corresponding ones in the button-holes of 
their attendants. Ah, well! when the cheeks 
and the flowers are tailed, and the young 
feet that kept pace together there may have 
wandered far aparf, what memories will 
cling about these little knots of treasured 
blossoms! 
You have some in your treasure-box,— 
colorless, insignificant as others see them, 
but fresh and bright as they were in summers 
agone to your eyes,—and you are not gray 
yet, your face is still eastward, your feet 
still wander by the “brooks of morn¬ 
ing.” But you have peopled your gar¬ 
den with the summer flowers and the sum¬ 
mer friends who came, tarried awhile, and de¬ 
parted with farewells that “ may be for years 
and may be forever,” while there is nothing 
there but cold, white, unbroken snow. 
Yes, something more; for under it all the 
earth’s warm heart is beating, and the roots 
and bulbs will spring again into newness of 
life. And you think, perchance, the pleasant 
intercourse of the summer,— now covered 
with the iciness of absence and separate in¬ 
terests,—may live again —if not here, in 
some fair “ island of the blest.” 
mL 
Far away you see the marble gleam abm 
the loved an-1 lost in a quiet “city of t! 
dead.” Dark evergreens point ever upwai 
in changeless, quiet beauty; and the mo\ 
drift silently above, cold and pitiless, but i 
colder than the forms that used to thrill wil 
life and love. 
But some one is calling. The day is befo 
you, — the day with its fleeting moments, i 
measureless opportunities for good, its las 
iug record for Eternity! May all the hou 
be shining. 
--»♦» -■ ■ ■ ■ ■ 
The greatest and most amiable privilei 
which the rich enjoy over the poor, is thi 
which they exercise the least—the privily 
of making them happy. 
“I never,” says a lady, “sent that mes¬ 
sage to the door but once, and for that, once 
I shall not forget myself. It was more than 
three years'ago, and when I told my servant 
that morning to say 1 Not at Home,’ to 
whomsoever might cli’.l, except it was some 
intimate friend, 1 felt my cheeks tingle, and 
the girl’s look of surprise mortified me ex¬ 
ceedingly. But she went about, her duties 
and I about mine, sometimes pleased that I 
had adopted a convenient fashion by which 
I could secure time to myself, sometimes 
painfully smitten with the reproaches of 
conscience! Thus the day wore away, and 
when Mr. Lee came home he astonished me 
with the news that a very ultimate friend 
was dead. 
“ ‘ It cannot be,” was the reply, “ for she 
exacted of me a solemn promise that I 
would alone sit by her dying pillow, as she 
had something of great importance to reveal 
to me. Yon must be misinformed ; no one 
has been lor me.’ Here, suddenly, a horri¬ 
ble suspicion crossed my mind.” 
“She sent for you,but you were not at 
home," said Mr. Lee, innocently; then he 
continued:—“I am sorry for Charles, her 
husband; lie thinks her distress was much 
aggravated by your absence, from the fact 
that she called your name piteously. He 
would have sought lor you, but your servant 
said she did not know where you had gone. 
I am sorry. You must have been out longer 
than usual, for Charles sent a servant over 
here three times.” 
“ I never In all my life experienced such 
loathing of myself, such utter humiliation. 
My servant had gone further than I in adding 
falsehood to falsehood, and I had placed it 
out of my power lo reprove her, by my own 
equivocation. I felt, humbled to the very 
dust, and the next day 1 resolved over the 
cold clay of my friend that I would never 
again, under any circumstances, say ‘not at 
home.’ ” — Selected. 
-- 
INVENTION OF LITHOGRAPHY. 
The impatience of a German washer¬ 
woman led to the invention of lithography. 
The history of that elegant art begins with a 
homely domestic scene, which occurred at 
Munich about the year 1793, and in which 
three characters figured- Madame Senefel¬ 
der, the poor widow of an excellent actor, 
then recently deceased; her son, Alois Sen e- 
fei.dek, aged twenty-two, a young man of 
an inventive turn; and the impatient wash¬ 
erwoman just mentioned, The washer 
woman had called at the house of this widow 
for the weekly “ wash,” but the “list” was 
not ready, and the widow asked her son to 
take it. He looked about the room for u 
piece of paper upon which to write it, with¬ 
out being able to find the least fragment, and 
he noticed also that his ink was dry. Wash¬ 
erwomen aro not apt to be overawed hv such 
customers, and this one certainly did not 
conceal her Impatience while the fruitless 
search was proceeding. The young man 
had in the apartment a smooth, soil, cream 
colored stone, such as lithographers now use. 
He had also a mass of paste made of lamp¬ 
black, wax, soap, and water. In the hurry 
of the moment he dashed upon the soft, 
smooth stone the short list of garments, using 
for the purpose this awkward lump of oily 
paste. The washerwoman went off with her 
small bundle of clothes, peace was restored 
to the family, and the writing on the stone 
remained.— Parton, in Atlantic Monthly for 
March. 
-- 
A Beautiful Compliment. —One of the 
most delicate witticisms uttered by Rossini 
on his death-bed, is the following. It is 
characteristic of the affectionate relations 
prevailing between him and His wife: “ What 
is the difference between you and a clock V” 
said the sick maestro to his faithful wife and 
nurse, when she had just told him what time 
it was; and as Madame Rossini suid she 
was unable to solve the riddle, her husband 
told her the solution: “The clock indicates 
the hours to me, and you cause me to forget 
them.” Certainly a mol of which every ten¬ 
der bridegroom might be very proud ! 
-;—■*-*-*- 
Too Much Voice. — During a concert in 
the Boston Music Hall, recently, when the 
organist was “ exhibiting the full power of 
the instrument,” a kuly was enthusiastically 
conversing with her neighbor about her 
household arrangements. “ She suited the 
tones of her voice to those of the organ, but 
‘ reckoned without her host ’ this time. The 
organist made a sudden transition from \ffj" 
to* pianissimo^ withqj.it giving the lady warn¬ 
ing; consequently the audience were some¬ 
what amused at being informed by her in a 
shout, that * we fried ours iu butter!’ ” 
- 4 -*-*-- 
FLIRTING A FAN. 
Amelia wav’d her Ian with gJee, 
And toi-inj; in a playful mood, 
She gave the airy toy to mo, 
And bade mo flirt It, If I could. 
The pleasing toil I quick began, 
But jeulous pangs my bosom hurt, 
“ Madam, 1 cannot flirt a fan. 
But with your leave, I’ll fan a flirt. 
fHobcs anb Iflamters. 
FASHION CHITCHAT. 
BY MINTWOOD. 
Dresses for tin* Rich New Fnbrles itnd New 
fsiyles for Spring mid .Summer Wear. 
Yes, we wish we were rich, mid do not 
think it silly or foolish to wish to he. For 
does not money bring all the luxuries and 
comforts we so enjoy, and all the new books, 
and beautiful pictures, and latest music? In 
short, it is a very convenient commodity to 
have. There is that rose-colored moire on 
the counter that would make us look like an 
elongated rose-bud, and, for the moment, we, 
hear its luxurious rustle and feel the exquis¬ 
itely wrought lace that enhances its roseate 
splendor. But we cannot have it. It is ten 
dollars a yard, und it takes nine yards for a 
dress. 
Here is another moire, of a delicate pearl 
color, with a splash of pale roses and pea 
blossoms, with tendril vines woven in every 
width. It would do for Titanta, if she 
could send her fairies out for one hundred 
and seventy-live dollars. 
Here is something fit for a tragedy queen, 
or an Empress — a black velvet robe, with 
embroidered widths, which is superb in any 
shape, and may be had for three hundred 
and fifty dollars. 
But what is ilie sense in gossiping about 
what none of us can have ? It is only aggra¬ 
vating, and would make us discontented if 
we weren’t too strong-minded to allow it. 
We would like something within our reach, 
that we can legitimately think and talk about 
as the spring days approach. 
Alpaca lusters, in background of white, 
lavender or salmon, with half inch spheres 
in unbroken colors. Others, in half inch 
stripes, of which sixteen yards make Ihe 
complete suit, including trimming. It is 
twenty-eight cents per yard. Shaded mo¬ 
hair poplin at fifty cents a yard, is in new 
complexion. Thirteen yards make a suit. 
A new material lor walking dresses, is of 
worsted and cotton, and will bear washing. 
It is in narrow, broken stripes, like a succes¬ 
sion of arrows, Twelve yards make a suit, 
at fifty cents a yard. The colors are solid. 
French cambric, nearly a yard wide, in 
fine pencil lines, with a narrow border the 
length of one selvedge for trimming, sells lor 
forty cents per yard. Some of the pieces 
are in broad, cheeked stripes of contrasting 
colors. 
French percale comes in patterns, for five 
dollars the suit. They are called garden 
suits by the French, but are pretty enough 
for indoor wear, and being of fast colors, 
serviceable. Both selvedges are bordered, 
one broader than the other, and make twenty- 
six yards of trimming. The upper and 
lower skirts differ, in the upper being in the 
smaller design. They are in all colors, light 
green and light, blue, in pencil checked 
stripes, huff with purple, and white with 
black. The lower skirt, or petticoat, is gen¬ 
erally distinguished from the upper by broad, 
checked stripes. Home are in uniform 
checks, with the petticoat trimmed with 
three flounces. The upper skirl is looped at 
the sides. The basque lias a short, straight, 
full frill, like the old time “spencer" ami the 
snsli is formed from the broad border. 
French cambric is shown for morning 
dresses, which are cut Qubridle, and the 
seams trimmed to within half a yard of the 
bottom of ilie skirt, with the narrow border 
running the length of one selvedge. The 
patterns are in while, mostly, with sprig-like 
patterns in black. The border is a con¬ 
trasting color in leaf designs. It is thirty- 
five cents a yard, and twelve yards make a 
full dress. 
Organdies make their appearance some¬ 
what. prematurely, but are quite us beautiful 
to look at, nevertheless. The body of the 
petticoat is in one color. The flounce is or¬ 
namented at uniform intervals with clusters 
of wheat heads and roses, connecting with 
wreaths of ivy. Smaller designs are for 
trimming the top and bottom of the sleeves. 
The overdress is iu a plain color, but con¬ 
trasting with the petticoat. I* lee per robe, 
eighteen dollars. 
Spring sha wls, in zephyr woo-, with much 
chocolate brown, conspicuous in the plaids 
and stripes, are from four to seven dollars. 
Many of them are bright and gay enough 
for Afghans. 
Lonsdale muslin is used mostly for skirt¬ 
ing; for trained dresses, trained petticoats, 
cut like the dress skirt, are considered neces¬ 
sary for t he proper hang of the dress. Petti¬ 
coats are made with a three inch hem,with 
two clusters of tucks connected by a puffing 
of the material an inch and a half wide; 
some with three clusters of tucks separated 
by a single ruffle are very pretty,, especially 
when the ruffles are fluted. For walking 
petticoats, coarse muslin is best, as it looks 
more like linen, is stronger, and but one is 
needed to be worn. Do not wear white pet¬ 
ticoats in wet, muddy weather. 
A handsome and stylish trained petticoat, 
for the house, to be worn under a dress looped 
a little shorter, is made of coarse book mus¬ 
lin, with three ruffles bound with black dress 
binding. With care it can be worn a long 
time. 
A recent jacket importation is a short, loose 
sacque of dark blue ladies’ cloth, in applique 
and silk embroidery. Stars, hearts, shields, 
diamonds and other designs arc cut from 
white, red, and blue flannels, and applied on 
the border with bright colored braid finish 
ing the raw edges. Chain stitch embroidery, 
and designs in yellow, red or white embroid¬ 
ery silk, with notched bands of tlu* flannel 
overlapping each other on the. edge like a 
pen-wiper, completed the ornamentation. 
Epaulettes and cuffs are the same, only pro¬ 
portionately smaller. They have a very 
squaw-like look, but are bright and jaunty 
for morning wear. 
Large Jet rings are said to be “ all the rage” 
in Paris. Of course the sheep this side of 
the water will jump over the bars. 
The most fashionable reception dress at 
present is black gros grain silk. 
Flowers arc much used at parties. Fifteen 
hundred dollars is said to cover the expense 
of a floral bill at a recent wedding, at which 
ten i houeand camellias, one hundred t housand 
primroses, twenty-five thousand white aza- 
lias, and two thousand heads of daplinae 
were brought into use. A man who loves 
flowers a great deal, and women consider¬ 
ably, said it was a great shame to sacrifice so 
many flowers at the altar of one woman. 
That may be, but it was all a man’s doing. 
POLITENESS AND MANNERS. 
BY A. J. ENSURE 
“ There is no policy like politeness, and 
a good manner is the best thing in the world, 
either to get a good name or to supply the 
want of it.” No truer thought was ever ut¬ 
tered by any writer, be ho poet, or novelist, 
scholar or statesman. An agreeable manner 
always commands regard, and opens an ave¬ 
nue to refined society; and its opposite firmly 
closes and double bars the entrance. What 
so essential, then, to the young of both sexes 
as the acquirement, of an easy, agreeable and 
graceful manner,- graceful not in the move¬ 
ments Of Ihe body alone, but in the mind 
likewise ? “ Be not outdone in acts of polite 
ness by those who are your inferiors either 
in education, wealth, or social position,” was 
the sage advice of a thoughtful father to Ida 
son just emerging into manhood. It is not 
the mark of a superior mind to be supercili¬ 
ous or patronizing; but such traits of char¬ 
acter show rather the want of good breeding, 
culture, and refinement. It is a fact recog¬ 
nized by intelligent and highly cultivated 
individuals everywhere, that kindness and 
affableness are sure evidences of gentility. 
Every young person should at all times 
strive to cultivate; simple and unaffected hab¬ 
its of true politeness, free from affectation 
and frippery. Simplicity and sincerity iu 
manner, thoughts, and language are virtues 
ever to be emulated by the young, Read 
the biographies of men most eminent in 
every department of life, contemplate tlieir 
most, remarkable qualities of mind, and imi¬ 
tate their virtues. Human beings are crea¬ 
tures of imitation, and a habit is easily 
formed. The history of the past is full of 
bright examples. All along the pathway of 
time may be found pillars of human great¬ 
ness. Every land and every age can boast 
of its heroes, men of great intelligence and 
simple virtues. In this land of ours, where 
every man is a peer of his l’ellow-man,— 
where power un i position result, not from 
the mere accidents of birth, but are the re¬ 
sults of energy, where brain-work and 
hand-work command a premium,—every 
stimulus is offered to success. 
There is so much power in politeness that 
often the most, polished address wins favor, 
and superficial accomplishments are rated 
higher than honest worth. The artless and 
unsophisticated arc often deceived by false 
pretense; the thoughtful, pradical, and ob¬ 
servant. seldom, if ever. While politeness 
anil agreeable manners are to be sedulously 
cultivated, there should be no guile. Instead 
of the astute cunning, the studied dissimula¬ 
tion, and polished hypocrisy of that class 
represented by Talleyrand and Richelieu, 
Machiavelli and Metternich, rather the 
noble intelligence and cultivated greatness 
of Clay and Webster, Bright and Glad¬ 
stone. The evils and sinuosities of the hu¬ 
man mind are naturally perverse enough 
without any painstaking development. The 
social and moral virtues should be cultivated. 
The best qualities of the head anil heart 
should receive the most kindly culture. 
We would impress this thought upon the 
young who are just verging upon manhood 
und womanhood: be ever kind and consider¬ 
ate. Cultivate a polished address and cour¬ 
teous ways. Remember that “ a soft answer 
turneth away wrath.” Read good hooks and 
plenty of them, and thoughtfully, too; for 
they contain the choicest gems of richly 
freighted minds. By treasuring in your 
memory such written words and thoughts, 
the range of your mind becemes enlarged, 
your vision clearer, and you will forget self 
and become moie cosmopolitan. 
jj) oo 
snrbbafl) Rcabing. 
A TWILIGHT THOUGHT. 
BY CLIO STANLEY. 
True soul, Wflat hava you gained of good, to-day ? 
What new tlu in.' have you learned beneath tins aun ? 
Wlint question answered or what problem solved I 
Or must you say, “ My work Is all undone V” 
Tho gulden suu shone brightly down the world, 
Sol l shadows gathered on t he twilight trunk ; 
The (lay- Is gone ; with all oursighB mid tears 
We cannot call one little moment buck. 
Brave soul, what waiting heart has Blithered choor 
From leaning on sweet charity of thine? 
From others’ charity what hast thou gained? 
Oh, give me answer lruv> soul of minu. 
Dear soul, what loss Is thine? Home golden gleam 
Of time that stole unheeded from thy sight 7 
Sonin tender word unsold, that would have blessed 
Tho hour given to silent prayer, to-night? 
Ah, soul, true soul, brave soul, awaken now ’ 
Let not the moments slip unheeded by ; 
For just such moments make the golden hours 
That bring us nearer to eternity t 
--. 
“AND THEN?” 
We remember reading, years ago, of a 
man who was so sparing of his words that 
he seldom uttered more than two consecu¬ 
tively, and consequently was known as 
“ Two ’Words." Favorites of his, and most 
often made use of, were these, short and 
questioning, — “ And then. 1 " 
Every man, woman and child utters them 
frequently, — they are indeed the text of 
many a hope, many a promise, many a 
prayer. Childhood will grow out of its 
childishness, and then —all the joys and suc¬ 
cesses of manhood will gladden it. Youth 
will step out from its youthful annoyances, 
and then —will come only halcyon days, full 
of sunlight and song, and glad fulfillments. 
Manhood will brush away the clouds that 
envelop it, and then — the long awaited re¬ 
wards will surely be realized in nmturer 
years. Manhood’s prime may wear itself 
out, in noble endeavors, but. Old Age will 
reap the rich fruits, and Men—content will 
render the hours peacefully sweet. Old Age 
will be ended by-and-by, and then — 
And then — what? 
It is not, enough that, we dream over the 
two words, — that we use them as pleasant 
agencies to conjure up brightness for the fu¬ 
ture. To paint, beautifhl pictures of the 
“Good time coming” Is well, because none 
have a right to shut the sunlight out of their 
lives, and the sunlight, streams in ever 
through the open door of To morrow; but 
to shut our eyes to our possible destiny,— 
to resolutely look away from a destiny that 
must, he inevitably ours,—that is not well. It 
is the height of folly, or else the climax of 
cowardice. 
Thousands are dancing through life, think¬ 
ing lightly of the morrow, with “ And then ” 
upon their lips, but never repeating it In its 
deep and solemn suggestiveness. Poor fools, 
that make a minuet of the week, and glide 
down it careless and unconcerned, for them, 
as for all others, there will come, a Saturday 
night with its silent hush, and the sun will 
go down, and the stars will come out, und 
the soul will remember Itself —und then, t 
As we have each our by-and-hys, that we 
fill with those tilings we love best, so is there 
tor all one great common By-and-By, and it 
is surer than those little ones we think most 
of. Who says “ by-and-by ” with a thought 
of all its meaning? We hang upon being 
as by a thread, and yet we plan with an “ l 
will," as though the future were ours to do 
with ns we please. And some day we shall 
see our mistake. Some day we shall say 
“ I will," and our wills shall bo as .mere 
breaths; and it shall be then, O Father, “as 
'thou wilt;” and we shall close our eyes to 
all around us and go out somewhere by a 
way we know not— and then ? 
- ■*■++■ 
Subduing Bin. —In vain do we boast of 
the cross ot Christ, as that whereby the guilt 
of our sins is abolished, if the power of them 
still remains unsubdued in us. Then are his 
sufl’erings our glory, when they become a 
fruitful principle of holiness in us, and affect 
us in such a manner as to give us resolution 
and strength to live above the world and all 
its temptations. “This is the victory that 
overcometh the world,” even our faith in a 
crucified Savior .—Biehop Atterbury. 
-- 
There is a living power in true senti¬ 
ments. When we hear them spoken, they 
take their place in our memories, and seem 
often to hide themselves away out of sight. 
Butin times of trial, temptation or suffering, 
just when they are needed for strength or 
comfort, some spirit hand turns the leaf on 
which they were written, and lo! they are 
GUI's again. 
-- 
Five of the sweetest words in the English 
language begin with H, which is only a 
breath:—Heart, Hope, Home, Happiness and 
Heaven. Heart is a hope-place, and home 
is a heart-place, and that man sadly mistak- 
eth, who would exchange the happiness of 
home for anything less than heaven. 
-♦- 
Chastened sorrow leads us to prayer, hut 
inordinate grief hinders devotion. 
