‘abirs’ 
VAIN HOPES. 
BV BEI.L CLINTON”. 
Teaks ago, I wandered idly 
Down beside the wave-washed strand, 
Out before me Life's broad ocean, 
’Neath my feet the glittering sand 
Sparkled lu the morning sunlight 
That made rosy hill and lea; 
In my heart Hope fondly whispered, 
Will uo ship come in for me? 
And I Ureaim-d some vessel sailing, 
Spite of reefs and rude winds’ play. 
With ite freight of oostly treasures 
Would sail Into port some day. 
Ah. some day ; How long I waited 
T.lst'ning to the breakers' roar. 
Trembling, lest my looked-for vessel 
Stranded lay on far-off shore. 
But It came—SO strangely freighted 
With its hollow hopes and fears, 
Where t looked for gold to glitter. 
Naught but shiningdust appears. 
While it gathers for its lading 
Joys and friends, the dearest, best. 
Till 1 hold but two small jewels 
Closely clasped upon my breast,— 
And the ship Is idly floating - 
Anchored In the sheltered bay; 
But the light which tips its white mast 
Wears the hue of closing day. 
Then the sun rose jnst behind me— 
Now Tis setting Just before— 
And from out the quiet harbor 
Soon my bark must sail once more. 
For, when glints the last red sunlight, 
It must touch the other shore. 
Where all hoping—longing—sighing— 
Restless strivings—all, are o’er. 
May I with my precious jewels 
Safely cross the flowing tide, 
And secure with Omusr, forever 
In his sheltering arms abide. 
ABOUT SCOLDING WIVES. 
Thebe have been a great many women 
dreadfully abused in this world, and I’m 
going to have my say about it. now, if I 
never open my mouth again. Such an ever¬ 
lasting to-do about scolding wives is enough 
to wear one’s patience out entirely. I think 
it high time the poor, abused souls were 
allowed to speak a word for themselves. 
I don’t know why it is—I’m sure I never 
could imagine, for the life of me—if a 
woman chance to fret and worry a little, it 
should be forever set down against her in 
malice. I should just like to know, and I 
should just like to have you, Mr. Editor, 
answer the question, why she gets such a 
deal more credit for the fretting and the 
worrying than for all the patience she does 
exercise, and all the other virtues she hap¬ 
pens to possess ? 
But this isn’t so ? 
I tell you, Mr. Editor, it is so. I could 
cite a score of etiscs to prove it. Take So¬ 
crates’ wife, for instance. Was ever a poor 
woman more wickedly pronounced against? 
Socrates was a very good man, and very 
wise, every historical body says, but lie had 
a scolding wife. Xantiitk was a perfect 
virago, they time and again declare, and the 
unfortunate philosopher was greatly to be 
pitied. 
Now this is mostly a great big historical 
fib, I don’t care who tells it., Socrates had 
not a virago for a wife—more’s the pity, for 
he deserved one. lie passed very well for a 
philosopher in those days, but at the present 
time he would he considered little belter 
than an idle loafer. He didn’t deserve a 
wife at all. A more shiftless, thriftless, care¬ 
less good-for-nothing never brought sorrow 
to a woman’s heart. lie went about in 
Athens from pillar to post continually, doing 
nothing, and was a philosopher just because 
he was too consummately shiftless to be 
anything else. 
When a man don’t and won’t provide for 
a woman, what is she to do, I’d like to know ? 
When he never brings a scrap into the house 
for Iter to do with, and invites his friends 
home to dinner repeatedly , with not a morsel 
in the larder for her to make a dinner out of, 
is she to blame for finding fault? 1 put it to 
your honor, Mr. Editor, is it to be wondered 
at if, in such circumstances, she says some 
pretty sharp things ? But that’s just the way, 
always. Socrates’ improvidence won his 
wife the reputation of a common scold, and 
to-day every woman who asserts her domes¬ 
tic rights is classed by mankind in the same 
rank with Xantippe. 
I pity the wives of literary men, if every 
literary man is like Socrates, and his name¬ 
sake, Mr. Tippy. 1 never know when Mr. 
Tippy may bring two or three friends home 
to dinner. Or if lie happens to say when lie 
goes out in the morning, "Mrs. Trppy, Mr, 
Scribendus will dine with us this evening,” 
it is probably when the flour is all out, and 
not a baking on hand, and the butcher’s and 
grocer's bills are unpaid, and not a cent of 
money is in the house. And if 1 call after 
him to tell him so, he just goes right, on, as 
though he had cotton in his ears, and never 
hears a word. Then, you see, when he comes 
in with Mr. Sciubendus, the dinner is not 
up to his taste, and after Mr. Sctubendus 
goes away the dear man begins to find fault. 
It is “ Mrs. Tippy, I really wish you would 
put forth a little more effort to please my 
friends when they come;” and “ Mrs. Tippy, 
I don’t see why you cannot once in a while 
set a dish before my friend Scribendus that 
is fit to eat.” And the worst of all is that 
when I begin to let him know who is to 
blame, he goes to taking off his boots with a 
very injured air, indeed,—very much as 1 
suppose Socrates of old would have done, 
if he had worn any, and tries t o choke me off 
by saying, “ There, there, .Mrs. Tippy, don’t 
scold.” 
Now, Mr. Editor, is not all this dreadfully 
provoking? Can you not come to the de¬ 
fense of scolding wives, or say some bene¬ 
ficial word to the careless and typical Socra¬ 
tes of to-day ? 
Yours, but never scoldingly, 
X. Ann Tippy. 
AMERICAN GIRLS IN EUROPE. 
A letter writer now abroad thus re¬ 
marks upon the comparative beauty of Eng 
lish and American girls . 
I do not wish to undervalue English beauty, 
which is most satisfactory and enduring, and 
most of which will wash. But l confess that 
American beauty, from New York to New 
Orleaus, has spoiled my eyes for any other; 
and when 1 am just getting accustomed to 
the solid English matrons and maidens, like 
Mr. Hawthorne, and beginning to like them 
—along comes a group ot my fair country¬ 
women on their travels, and they spoil it all 
again. Those dear Yankee girls—I fear you 
do not lmlf appreciate them at home. Here 
they admire and envy them — that is, the 
men admire and the women envy. On the 
continent they rave about them. 
Half a dozen American belles send a whole 
German town distracted. It. is not only their 
beauty and grace, but their wit, spirit, and 
happy audacity. The continental customs 
favor their triumphs. No girl over there 
dares to say her soul is her own—let alone 
her body. She never goes anywhere with¬ 
out a chaperone—she never converses with 
a gentleman, except to answer a question; 
she is of ft necessity insipid to the Inst de¬ 
gree. 
An American girl, on the contrary, asserts 
her freedom, goes where she likes, talks with 
every one she cares to talk with, says (hi to 
a German at the first introduction, and or¬ 
ders him about—just as she would do at 
home, lie is overwhelmed, astounded, but 
all the more delighted, lie tells his friends 
that the beautiful girl lie waltzed with said 
du to him, and told him to bring her a glass 
of water, which sots them all crazy to be in¬ 
troduced to her, hear her say du to them, 
and he made waler-carriers likewise Next 
day the whole town is talking about her— 
the women arc in a rage—but the result is 
the conviction that America mud be a great 
country, increased immigration, and the con¬ 
sequent progress of civilization. 
-- 
THE MARYS AND MARTHAS. 
Two men were talking •!' Mary and 
Martha, the other morning, as they sat near 
us in the car. “ Because .Tesus said of 
Mary, ‘ She lias chosen the better part,’ ” 
remarked one, “ He did not. repudiate Mar¬ 
tha.” All, no! The Marthas are never 
repudiated or set aside by God or man. The 
Marys may indeed choose the better part, 
but the Marthas’ part is not necessarily a 
bad part because not the best. They are 
needed in the world. It is well that there 
are some who are “ troubled about many 
things,” because the “ many ihings” are 
necessary to the world’s comfort. God bless 
the Marys! God also bless the Marthas ! 
--- 
OUR SPICE BOX. 
WnEN is a butterfly like a kiss? When 
it alights on tulips. 
A- concert singer having murdered a tune, 
subsequently tried his voice and acquitted 
himself. 
Prentice says man was the chief con¬ 
sideration at the creation. Woman w r as on¬ 
ly a “ side issue.” 
We often omit the good we might do, in 
consequence of thinking of that which it is 
out of our power to do. 
The first record of sugar-planting which 
wc know, is when Adam and Eve are spoken 
of as having raised Cain. 
It is currently reported and generally be¬ 
lieved of the female sex, that they do not 
scruple to Imk each other’s frocks. 
“Mamma! mamma!” bellowed the angel 
of the household from t he top of the stairs, 
“ Pm mad, and Hannah won't pacify me.” 
To reprove small faults with undue vehe¬ 
mence is as absurd as if a man should take a 
great hammer, because he saw a fly on his 
friend’s forehead. 
While a mother was brooding over her 
poverty, her little son said:—“ Mamma, I 
think God hears when we scrape the bottom 
of the barrel!” 
A little boy having broken his rocking- 
horse the day it was bought, his mamma 
began to scold, when he silenced her by in¬ 
quiring, “ What is the good of a boss till it’s 
broke ?” 
globes anb jnstmers. 
HOLIDAY GIFTS. 
by mint wood. 
Wedding Presents —Their Fitness and (Ap¬ 
propriateness. 
” bitT thy gift be of thysel f a part; the painter, 
his picture; the miner, a gem; the sailor, shells 
from the ocean; the farmer, wine and corn; the 
poet, his song.” 
It may seem rather early to discuss Holi¬ 
day gifts, but if other people are even as I 
am, they like time to think about things, and 
measure their wishes by their purses. Christ¬ 
mas gifts, like all annual presentations, should 
be inexpensive, unless the giver gives speci¬ 
ally. or from ihe generosity of abundant 
wcalih. Something new, and inexpensive, 
too, is the confessional of prospective Christ¬ 
inas happy Hors. In making gifts to gentle¬ 
men, most women find it necessary to 
manufacture something, and the embroider¬ 
ed slippers, watch pockets, dressing gowns, 
smoking caps and jackets, penwiper and 
pin cushions, that duplicate themselves in 
some bachelor dens every Holiday, arc amus¬ 
ing, while in many instances they are very 
acceptable. A gift carries an unction with 
it when it is just what one has “ so long been 
■wanting. ” 
A novelty in pin cushions, is in the form 
of a small fish or porcupine. Make the for¬ 
mer from two to four inches in length, and 
arrange the pins for fins. Black headed [tins 
or black beads will do for the eyes. For a 
porcupine, stick the pins through from the 
under side, so the sharp points will standout 
for the quills. A picture will guide you in 
making Images. A pen wiper may be made 
very fanciful, to represent a butterfly; use a 
pair of black hair pins for the legs. Toilette 
cushions may be made in imitation of fruits, 
or round, with fancy covers of lace and em¬ 
broidery that can he lifted and washed, or 
embroidered on canvas or silk, or worsted 
goods, or in high colored satins, edged with 
gold or silver cord. For a gentleman's dress¬ 
ing gown, four yards and n half of merino, or 
six yards of cashmere, arc required. Bn 
careful and select, for the facings silk in be¬ 
coming color. Drab merino, with facing of 
blue or cherry; dark green, with facing ot 
purple, gold, canary or n.-u; leaf brown, 
with flame or scarlet. A neck-tie for manor 
woman, may be made of plain silk or ribbon, 
wit h the ends embroidered In pattern of grain 
heads, a spray or bouquet of flowers. Hand¬ 
kerchiefs, with the initial or monogram in 
colored embossing in one corner, furnish a 
pleasant remembrancer, as well as an elo¬ 
quent reminder of a lady’s skill in nee¬ 
dlework. 
Of course every husband knows the weak 
points in bis wife’s or daughter’s wardrobe, 
and would like to supply a need and observe 
Christmas too. Furs are cheaper this year 
than last. Mink for the grown people, 
Siberian squirrel and ermine imitation for 
the little ones. Then there arc sets of laces, 
Valenciennes, cluny, maltese, point applique 
and thread—something to last a lifetime. 
But what if there is no need in house or 
wardrobe, and friends are artislieal, musical, 
professional, or literary? A port-folio of 
autumn leaves; a basket of ferns and ivy 
and creeping vines to hang in a window, 
like a song of spring-time ; pots of flowers 
in bud or bloom; a bouquet of fresh flowers; 
small bits of paintings in water colors, live 
by six inches, on bristol hoard, of gorgeous 
autumn leaves, grasses, moss, apple blooms, 
pansies, marigolds, costing from $1.50 to $2 
each ; suitable frames cost from seventy-five 
cent3 to $3. Smaller pictures of similar ex¬ 
cellence cost less. Illuminated mottoes for 
walls,as “God Bless our Home,” “Merry 
Christmas,” cost from $1 to $1.50. Then 
there are pictures-chromo-lithographs of 
fruit, cattle, poultry, dogs, cats, landscapes, 
ranging in price from $2 to $20 ; engravings 
of popular subjects — Bonheur's cattle 
pieces, $15; Landseer’s, $22; “Franklin 
at Court” and “ Lady Washington’s Recep¬ 
tion,” $25. Suitable framing — of walnut 
and gold—costs nearly as much more. Then 
there are engravings of ideal and ri al sub¬ 
jects, of Madonnas and womcn-faces, photo¬ 
graphs of statuary—always elegant—statu¬ 
ettes, images in bronze and gypsum, and 
Swiss carvings; albums of birds, flowers, 
lichens, animals, statuary and noted per¬ 
sonages. For a musical friend, a portrait of 
Rossini, of Mozart, Beethoven, Ole Bull, 
Camilla Ukso or A lire Toft , for a lover 
of song, one ot Patti, Pa seta, Lind, 
Nilsson or Phillips, and so on through 
the list of eminent men and women, as will 
best suit the taste of the recipient or gratify 
Ihe ardor of the giver. Then there are 
books, of which, like pictures, one can never 
have too many. Illustrated poems, hooks 
of portraits with letter-press biographies or 
explanations—books from two to fifty dol¬ 
lars, with variety to suit the fancy the same 
as pictures — not giving a minister a treatise 
on “Veterinary Surgery,” nor a milliner a 
“ Guide to Dress Making.” 
If silver and gold are more suitable for 
wedding than holiday gifts, they are never¬ 
theless associated with the latter, and so if 
you will follow me into Ball& Black’s you 
will wonder at the brilliancy and beauty and 
variety of the precious metals and stones 
God made and which men have appropriated 
and appreciated. How this long case of 
diamonds glitters and fascinates you with Ihe 
splendor of a hundred eyes in each ! This 
solitary one, in a setting of gold for a gentle¬ 
man’s shirt fl'ont, is $4,500. Then there are 
cameos on topaz, amethyst, emerald and 
jasper! There are necklaces and brooches 
and bracelets, buckles and car jewels and 
rings of ruffles and pearls, of opals and dia¬ 
monds, of sapphires and onyx ! This neck¬ 
lace of pearls with a brooch, or clasp of 
emeralds and diamonds, and pendant of deep 
sapphire, is marked $7,000, s<> what is the 
use of loitering here ? Over yonder are moss 
agate sleeve buttons for $20, and bosom studs 
and vest buttons. Then there are curious 
ones of bloodstone, a green stone freckled 
with red spots, like blood spatterings. But 
we can’t buy gold, although it is so much 
cheaper than common, unless it be a tooth¬ 
pick for Philip, so we will see what novel¬ 
ties are to be had in silver—solid sterling 
silver. 
Buckles, with chains and loops to loop over 
the buttons, for a gentleman’s suspenders 
$12; cigar pocket lighters $30; pocket lan¬ 
tern, with place for matches and tiuy wax 
candle; toothpick holder, a porcupine with 
his back perforated with holes, $18; bouquet 
holders of frosted silver, to be used on the ta¬ 
ble or for the hand, with chain and finger-ring 
attached, $30; melon knives with prongs on 
the hack ot the blade to stab the section of 
melon, fruit knives, pickle sets, soup and 
porridge bowls, wine goblets and bottles 
and mugs, nutmeg barrels, tea strainers, sets 
for eal ing olives, nut spoons and pickers and 
crackers, asparagus pincers, ten pins for eat¬ 
ing green corn—a nobby handle, with 
prongs running out at right angles which 
are stuck m the ends of the car — two make 
a set. marrow knives for scooping the mar¬ 
row out. of a bone, needle case made like a 
book cover, with a slide in the back for 
holding in the leaves—nice for a lady, as 
well as a gold thimble. But what think you 
of :i button-hole bouquet holder — a tiny 
affair that will hold water, and which you 
c an hook in your button-hole, out of sight. 
i( you please, m dress or coat, and place in 
it the stem of a rosebud, a carnation, a bit 
of heliotrope or a bunch of violets? And 
what then, if somebody a thousand miles 
away sends a florist an order to send you a 
new bouquet every week until next Christ¬ 
mas time? What then? I don’t know I— 
the latter was a sweet, pretty dream—people 
will let a heart-string out sometimes ! 
A unworn to Correspondents. 
Anonymous.—I f you use velvet with the 
blue merino, let it be of the same shade as 
the goods. A pretty trimming is made of 
bias flounces put on in plaits at intervals, 
with velvet a space from the top edge. 
Trim sleeves at top and bottom, ends of sash, 
and make the sash bunchy, or with much of 
bow and loops at the top. If you are slen¬ 
der, a square neck, or trimming to simulate 
one, would be becoming. Velvet alone 
would not be as pretty, I think. 
About scarf for your neck, you do not par¬ 
ticularize,—whether for a neck-tie or some¬ 
thing for warmth. Bright broad ribbons, or 
cashmere with broche garniture, are worn 
for warmth. 
Furs are so reasonable in price this winter 
you probably can suit yourself for the price 
named. Fitch is admired by many, but I 
should advise mink, and get a boa instead of 
cape, they keep the neck so warm, and are 
more fashionable than capes. 
-m- 
Shetlanders.— The author of a “Trip to 
the Shellands,” in the Spectator, thus de¬ 
scribes the people:—The Shetlanders are 
very honest, sober and simple in their hab¬ 
its ; generally very poor, and wearing their 
clothes to tatters like the Irish. They live 
in small hovels, the best of which are of 
stone, with a good straw thatch, but the 
worst are scarcely to he described — built of 
peat, upon a peat floor, with small holes, 
half stuffed up to keep out the wind, for 
windows; anil a peat fire in the middle, 
whose pungent smoke thus confined makes 
the place unapproachable for strangers. 
-♦-*-*- 
Infants’ Clothes. —High neck and long- 
sleeved slips of nansook are best for infants, 
as they do not require a sacque, which is apt 
to he left off at improper times, and the child 
takes cold Handsome christening robes 
are low m the neck Cloaks are large, double 
capes of pique richly embroidered. The up¬ 
per cape serves to wear with the first short 
clothes. 
-♦-*“*-- 
Senatorial Uniform. —The uniform of 
the French Senate is a cut-a-way tunic of 
blue cloth, lined with white silk, having nine 
large gilt buttons, ornamented with eagles; 
vest white, with golden studs, pantaloons 
white, with golden stripe; sword with a 
mother-of-pearl handle; hat courtly, with 
gold bands and lined with white feathers. 
^itbliatb ilrafaing. 
AUTUMN LEAVES. 
BY EMMA 3. ST1LWELL. 
O WAVING, nituniiiK, autumn trees. 
Say wherefore do ye slffli ? 
Ye weave yunnolyos such royal robes 
It roust Uo sweet to Ole. 
Clad In more lavish KOrqeoiinnoss 
Than drapes the western shy. 
In depths Of ein’ruld sliced and shade, 
With summer’s glory nigh. 
I crushed llie thought to nothingness 
That said these leaves must die. 
And bade the poises of my life 
Throb but lu melody; 
But e’en my steadfast stately Out, 
My King of every tree, 
Has caught the reho of the tone 
That throbbeth moon fully 
From tallest top of spiral pine 
To (lead flowers on the lea;— 
And in its heurt—my Oak's firm heart, 
I deemed so true to me. 
1 catch the glow of crimson tires 
A-tiiune so mockingly, 
That all my soul with angry tears 
OVrflowlng scorns to bo. 
O faint, faint Life! oh doubting Soul! 
These lenllets that I tread 
Send forth sweet Incense as they fade, 
Perfume their lowly bed— 
And teach sweet truths, If we will read 
What every leaf has said. 
I’ll rcud me one of late rich hue 
Now dulled by later rain, 
'Tis mouldering fast—will soon enrich 
Its native earth ugitiu, 
And foster lilies on its grave 
As Faith hi horn of Pain. 
O waving, moaning, autumn trees, 
’Tin moot that ye should sigh. 
While lovelier tilings than autumn leaves 
Do fude and droop and die, 
Yet change your dirge-notes to a psalm,— 
They bloom again On. hi'jh! 
November, 18(59, 
-- 
“THE PEACE OF GOD.” 
It passeth understanding. It comes to 
the heart as nothing else can. It reaches 
where nothing earthly has access, and where 
alone the" still, small voice” is audible. It 
comes to tired, restless hearts who have 
found a void in every earthly promise of 
pleasure. When wealth and fame have left 
I heir phantom of disappointment; when love 
has sadness and sighs in it ; when pleasant 
dreams bring awakenings of dark reality 
when friends hide the skeleton of deception , 
when health is mocking us wilh luioyance 
to-jay, and prostration and death to-morrow , 
as the light, of love goes out in tender eyes 
till they open in heaven,—then the peace of 
God finds its way to our sealed hearts that 
have so long resisted the pleading voice that 
knocked gently and proffered us its blessing 
When we’ve grown weary of sin and its 
banquetings are distasteful, when we turn 
from every new pleasure with a pain in our 
heart, we can find this blessed balm, this 
Great Physician who ministers to every im¬ 
ploring inquirer that has failed to find peace 
in any other. Who that ever heard the 
voice of Jesus speaking to their wretched 
heart, the welcome word " Peace," can for¬ 
get its power! “ The peace of God ! ” To 
know at night, as we lay us down to sleep, 
that. God is reconciled to us through Jesus, 
is worth all the world beside ! Though our 
feet have wandered, though our sins have 
been ns scarlet and our hearts breaking with 
the weight, of guilt without, any to pity, or 
help, or save, still He who died for us plead¬ 
ed, and wc were saved. 
“The peace of God!” Would not our 
weary hearts grow helpless and blighting 
bitterness creep into them, did not this peace 
shed its loving light there sometimes ? Oh, 
yes. Think, but for this peace of forgiveness 
the world would be a darksome place, death 
a terror, and the grave a prison. But, ah, 
Jesus has given us Ilia peace, not as the 
world gives it, but with a blessed benediction 
that not even death or martyrdom itself can 
destroy. n. m. l, 
Canandaigua, N. Y. 
-- 
THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 
The cross of Christ is the sweetest burden 
that ever I bore; it, is such a burden as wings 
are to a bird, or as sails to a ship, to carry 
me forward to my desired haven. 
Truly it is a glorious thing to follow the 
Lamb; it. is the highway to glory j but when 
you see him in his own country at home, you 
will think you never saw him before. 
More than Christ J can neither wish, nor 
pray, nor desire for you. I am sure that the 
saints are at best but strangers to tlie weight 
and worth of the Incomparable excellence of 
Christ. We know not the half of what we 
love when we love him. 
That Christ and the sinner should be one, 
and should share heaven between them, is 
the wonder of salvation; what more could 
love do ? 
I find that when saints are under trials and 
well humbled, little sins raise great cries in 
the conscience; but in prosperity, conscience 
is a pope that gives dispensations and great 
latitude to our hearts. The cross, therefore, 
is as needful as the crown will be glorious.— 
Rutherford'a Letters. 
