WHILE SNOWS ARE FALLING. 
The Spring timn ramn—the Spring time went, 
With shimmer of cloud anil shiny weather, 
The golden glory of June was spent: 
On hills and Helds we roamed together; 
We walked through Autumn’s purple haze. 
The future’s dream of bliss forestalling, 
And shuddering thought of Winter days 
With snow a-falllng. 
For earth was all so wondrous fair. 
And heaven smiled down po blue above it. 
Each wandering breath of balmy air 
But made us learn nnew to love it. 
What wonder if with all so bright. 
And wild birds through the woodland calling. 
We sighed to think nf Winter's night. 
And snowsa-f ailing. 
Hut when at last the world was dressed 
In shining robes of Ice-mail gleaming, 
And calm white silence lulled to rest 
The pale dead flowers beneath it dreaming— 
Behold ! we woke to find made true 
The hope our hearts had beeu forestalling, 
And life grew fairer than we knew 
While snows were falling. 
Ah well! the days of youth fly fast, 
Their suns grow dim, their blossoms wither, 
And all the dreams that mud a our past, 
Fly fast and far—wo know not whither; 
But when we tread life’s wintry slop®, 
We hear again their voices culling. 
And Memory clasps the hand of JUope 
While snows are falling. 
-- 
MR. TIPPY HEARD FROM. 
Tiie rather spirited letter of Mrs. X. Ann 
Tippy, which we published last week, has 
caused comment, It hinted at some causes 
for scolding on the part of wives, which are 
perhaps seldom taken into consideration, and 
was doubtless written utter much provoca¬ 
tion. We were about to answer a request 
contained in the concluding portion of it, by 
penning some advice to unthinking hus¬ 
bands, when we received the following from 
.Mrs. Tirrv’s other half: 
“Editors Rubai,; —The letter by Mrs. 
Tippy, which you saw fit recently to pub¬ 
lish, profoundly surprised and pained mo. 
That she should admit the public into the 
sanctity of her domestic affairs, of her own 
free will, is a thing I should never have 
dreamed of. That she should even indirect¬ 
ly impugn my excellence as a husband and 
the head of a family, is absolutely astonish¬ 
ing. It all grows out of a misapprehension 
on her part, I do assure you. 
“It is quite wrong to suppose that a man 
of philosophical or literary tendencies shall 
he considerate of the small matters pertain¬ 
ing to furnishing a table. His thought takes 
higher range. He marries to have all these 
things attended to for him. His wife should 
know Iliis, and should seek to relieve him of 
all care whatever, instead of venting ill-feel¬ 
ings at him for fancied short-comings, and 
complaining of him to every chancc-eomer, 
ns Xantitppk did of my namesake, or in- 
siead of indulging in tirades about him in 
the public prints. The student of philoso¬ 
phy or the devotee of literature has no apti¬ 
tude for lesser and meaner tilings, such as 
querying whether there is coal enough in 
'lie house, or the flour-barrel needs replen¬ 
ishing. A literary man like yourself, Mr. 
Editor, can appreciate the force of my re¬ 
marks, and I have no fear that you will feel 
it your duty to make a plea for scolding 
wives, as against those erudite men like my- 
s'lf, who, by some inscrutable providence, 
re made to bear their ceaseless complain¬ 
ing from year’s end to year’s end, and 
know no peace. Yours phlegmatically, 
“ Socrates Tippy,” 
We shall endeavor to make early response 
‘ ) this communication; meanwhile we con¬ 
dole with the writer. 
--- 
STORY OF A DEBUTANTE. 
Tiie New York correspondent of the St. 
Louis Republican relates the following. It 
- a very pretty little story, be it true or not, 
’•i»d describes an outgushing of genuine wo¬ 
manly feeling which Ls indeed beautiful ; 
Once upon a lime, in the city of New 
fork, a young lady, possessed of a fine so- 
Kano voice, was to decide, by a sort of public 
rehearsal, her fate with the managerial pow- 
<N of the Academy. A large number were 
invited, comprising all the musical critics 
id amateurs and professionals, and a large 
mtaclunent from the theatrical and literary 
"odd, forming a formidable audience for an 
unfledged bird to essay its virgin flight 
among. The opera selected for this morn- 
mg debut introduced the trembling young 
«pimnt with the tenor, and lie, as if to add 
her nervousness, and show his contempt 
fljr her ability, brought the opening bam of 
music to as many notes,—that is, instead 
1 giving her time to collect herself by singing 
1*11 fim opera set down for him, he hummed 
Pmdibly a strain or so, and gave the con- 
' iding notes, the cue for the orchestral ac- 
Mnipnnimenl to the debutante’s aria, loudly 
•md savagely, as if to say, “just see how I 
"i paraded here with this Yankee novice— 
f* le ' tlie silver-voiced consort of Italian night- 
mgales.” 
'iVeak and faint rose the first notes of the 
Molding girl, weaker and fainter they 
^ ined to grow, as if scared at the sound of 
their own weakness. Fluttered for a mo¬ 
ment, it seemed as if her voice had deserted 
her entirely, when loud and clear as a bell, 
from the center of the house, the air was 
taken up. All eyes turned to the sweet face, 
lit by friendly feeling for the poor singer, 
adding encouragement, and marking the 
time with her liny hand, as she half rose in 
her seat in her anxiety to help a perfect 
stranger and a woman. 
In a moment the debutante took up the 
strain, and as she gathered courage and 
heart to do that which was in her, the beau¬ 
tiful voice in the audience fell away from 
her, and she finished the aria in triumph 
amid a hurricane, of applause. 
The young American who decided her 
whole carter that morning is now the most 
famous prirna donna we have, and the beau¬ 
tiful woman who so nobly placed the very 
crown of success on her almost defeated 
aspirations has just returned from the 
foreign triumphs she so richly deserves and 
her name is Carlotta Patti. They say 
she sings more beautifully than ever. But 
not until I hear the wondrous voices of the 
angels will I hear anything so sweet as was 
her lovely voice at that rehearsal nine years 
ago. The greatest enthusiasm Is felt at her 
return, and the concerts she is to give the 
next few days will increase her revenues 
and those of her managers. But the generous 
deed she did, though many years ago, will 
win for her more than earthly fame. 
-» » ♦ - 
BRIDAL GIFTS. 
In an article entitled “ Bridal Gifts—Onr 
Social Black Mail,” we find theso just ex¬ 
pressions in regard to a custom which we 
trust will soon be honored in the breach 
rather than the observance > 
As things go now-a-days, an invitation to 
a wedding is no laughing matter. Those 
pasteboard squares, with their entanglement 
of monograms, summon us to take part in 
a great many absurdities of custom; but., of 
all these, Hie most absurd and burdensome 
is that of giving presents. The fuet is that 
marrying people practice upon all tlieir 
friends, at the present, day, a system of bare¬ 
faced extortion, without giving them the 
right to resent or expose it. There is no 
pretence of spontaneity or sentiment in those 
gifts ; they arc purchased because t hey must 
he, and this the receiver well understands. 
The exaction upon people of moderate 
means, rating their affections before the 
town by the number of dollars they are able 
or willing to Invest on the occasion, and 
mortifying them, if the gift he small, by 
parading it, with name attached. In contrast, 
with the outlay of wealthier friends, is so 
essentially vulgar and indelicate that it, is a 
wonder how it ever came to he tolerated in 
any society claiming to be refined. The 
custom is absurd, also, as well as vulgar and 
burdensome, when one comes to reflect upon 
It. The matrimonial parly really gain noth¬ 
ing, for they have to repay the same in value 
when the donors invite them to a similar 
occasion, so that their gifts are simply loans. 
IIow many times the bride must have said 
“ Thank you very much ; how lovely it is!” 
over this amount of plate, when she knows 
that the equivalent which must he given for 
it in the future would purchase a uniform 
service after her own heart. As it is, each 
couple find themselves possessed of a hete¬ 
rogeneous mass of silverware, not only un¬ 
like in design, but with excesses and deficien¬ 
cies which nobody could foresee. 
A GALLANT HIBERNIAN. 
In a railroad car the seats were all full 
except one, which w T as occupied by a pleas¬ 
ant looking Irishman — and at one of the 
stations a couple of evidently well-bred and 
intelligent young ladies came to procure 
seats, but seeing no vacant ones were about 
going into a back car, when Patrick rose 
hastily and offered them his seat with evi¬ 
dent pleasure. “But you will have no seat 
for yourself,” responded one of the young 
ladies with a smile, hesitating, with true 
politeness, as to accepting it, “ Never ye 
mind that!” said the gallant Hibernian, 
“yc’jr welcome to it! I’ll ride -upon the cow 
catcher to New York any time for a smile 
from such jintkmanly ladies,” and lie re¬ 
treated into the next car amici the cheers of 
his fellow passengers. 
- »»♦ - 
BLUSHES. 
Goethe was in company with a mother 
and daughter, when the latter being reproved 
for something, blushed and burst into tears. 
He said to the mothers—“How beautiful 
your reproach has made your daughter. 
That crimson hue and those silvery tears be¬ 
come her much better than any ornament of 
gold or pearls; those may be hung on the 
neck of any woman; those are never seen 
connected with moral purity. A full blown 
flower sprinkled with purest line is not so 
beautiful as this child blushing beneath her 
parent’s displeasure, and shedding tears of 
sorrow for her fault. A blush is the sign 
which nature hangs out to show where 
chastity and honor dwell.” 
arial ffiojiirs. 
SIX LITTLE FEET. 
In my heart ill ore llvutb a picture 
Of » kitchen, mile and old. 
Where the firelight tripped u’^r the rafter 
And reddened the roof’s brown mold; 
Gilding thn stuum of the k ratio, 
That hummed on the foot-worn hearth. 
Throughout all tho livelong evening, 
Its measure of drowsy mirth. 
Beoause of tho throe light shadows 
That frescoed that rude, old room— 
Because of the voices echoed 
Up ’mid the rafter’s gloom— 
Bucan.-.o of tho feet on tho lender. 
Six rustless, white little feet— 
The thoughts of that dOar, old kitchen 
Are to me so fresh and sweet! 
When the first, dash at the window 
Told of the coming rain, 
OI where art* tlio fair young faces 
That crowded against tho pane ? 
While bits of Ilreiiglit stealing 
Their dimpled cheeks between. 
Went struggling ont in darkness, 
In shreds of silver sheen. 
Two of the feet, grew weary, 
One dreary, dismal day, 
And wo tied them With snow-white ribbons, 
Leaving them by tho way; 
There was fresh clay on the fender 
That weuvy, wintry night, 
For the four young feet, had t-neked it 
From tho gravoon the bright hill’s height. 
O 1 why on this darksome evening. 
This evening of rain and sleet, 
Rest my foot all ulone on the hearthstone, 
O! where are those other feet I 
Aro they treading the pathway of virtue 
That will bring us together above? 
Or have they made stops that will dampen 
A sister’s tireless love? 
-*-*-♦- 
WOMEN AND “BIRDS.” 
BY JAMES G. Cl,ARK. 
Mrs. Mary E. Tucker, in a late num¬ 
ber of Packard’s Monthly, labors hard to 
prove what no one denies, viz.: that the 
masculine and feminine halves of humanity 
differ in many attributes and details. Of 
course,—and this is why the one is necessary 
to the other. 
The agitators of the woman question are 
not, aiming to do away with natural differ¬ 
ences, but to eradicate assumed and arbi¬ 
trary ones, born and nourished under the 
savage doctrine that “ might makes right,”— 
differences which constantly lean their dis¬ 
eased carouses against the laws of gravitation, 
interfering with the matching and blending 
of natural differences, and keeping alive 
friction and discord where there might 
otherwise be harmony. 
Our present laws unmistakably imply that 
men consider themselves not only capable of 
choosing and guarding their own sphere in 
human life and human pursuits, but also fit¬ 
ted to perform that, delicate task for women. 
This absurd assumption is enforced by 
legislation. The door is locked and key lying 
in man’s pocket awailing liis sense of justice 
and shame. Every child twelve years old 
able to read the words “male citizen,” 
ought to be aware of this fact. Every de¬ 
cent man ought to blush for it, and every 
full grown woman, before apologizing for it, 
ought to bo willing to barter away her Soul 
at auction. 
I think the advocates of this grand ques¬ 
tion,—a question grander than all others, be¬ 
cause more intimately Interwoven with tiie 
problem of human redemption, — simply 
claim that if woman is not qualified to find 
and retain her place in ihc economy of the 
Universe, man is not prepared to act as her 
general agent in the mailer, at least, until he 
makes better work of his own affairs. When 
this claim Is practically acknowledged in our 
laws, order will begin to assort itself. As in 
all revolutions, confusion may ensue at first; 
but temporary confusion, with truth in the- 
center, is far preferable to order which is 
constantly endeavoring lo reconcile itself to 
a lie. 
Mrs. Tucker writes prettily about the 
manifestations of sex in “ trees ’’ and “ birds.” 
8he says that “male birds” are greatly su¬ 
perior to their mates in the “ gift of song,*’— 
that the female thrush and canary, like St. 
Paul’s model women, “keep silent in the” 
cages and in the bushes,—that when the 
Southern mocking bird gushes entirely away 
in a torrent of melody, “ the female answers 
the call of her mate in a sweet, sad wail, 
which seems more like a plaint for a 
lost darling than a joyous response to the 
rich song of love which bursts from the full 
heart of her feathered husband.” Tho writer 
then introduces the nightingale, and tells us 
that the gentleman bird does all the singing 
while his silent wife attends to her domestic 
duties. 
This is all trite, and while it proves noth¬ 
ing, it suggests too much, — nothing less than 
that woman should cease attempting to excel 
in poetry and “ song,” and that Jenny Lind, 
Sontau, Patti, Kellogg, and Parepa, in 
tlieir singing,— together with Mrs Humans, 
Mrs. Browning, Julia Ward Howe, Alice 
Cary, Florence Pf.roy, and several other 
“female birds,” in their truly inspired song- 
wrihng, all mistook tlieir mission. Such 
being the case, let us either thank the Lord, 
or some other being, for the glory and beauty 
of mortal mistakes, or request these naughty 
female nightingales and mocking birds to 
“stop that noise,” and henceforth confine, 
their efforts to a “sweet, sad wail,” and that 
only in “ response” to tlieir “ mates.” Those 
having no “ mates” should be advised not to 
even “wail,”—while those having mates—as 
many have—that “ cannot tell one. note from 
another,” should be recommended not to sing 
“ lullaby” to the little birdies. 
Being myself a “ male bird,” and by pro¬ 
fession a writer and singer of songs, for the 
people and for truth, I am glad Mrs. Tucker 
has settled this matter, and susigned the 
“ gift of song ” toils legitimate sphere, it has, 
for a long time been my conviction that 
unless humanity is an improvement on 
“birds,” woman is “out of her place” in 
singing more charmingly ami draining larger 
audiences than man in the same vocation. 
When Baiinum for a fabulous sum engaged 
that “female ‘Swedish’ Nightingale” to 
visit this country and compete with “male 
bird” talent, I was provoked with him, for 
though a mere boy, L had conceived a justi¬ 
fiable masculine ambition to engage in the 
calling so improperly assumed by Jenny, and 
would cheerfully have hired myself to the 
great showman for one-fourth the amount 
wasted on her. Bo, I missed a brilliant 
chance, and from that day to this, whenever 
I have seen a crazy and misguided people 
squandering money on female singers, at the 
rate of one, two, and even live dollars per 
ticket, while I have been compelled lo sing 
for a smaller sum, 1 have yearned and prayed 
for the advent of a female bird who would 
dip one of her magic wing-feathers in ink 
and put an eternal stop to the whole tiling -, 
and lo l my prayer Is answered. 
if 1 take the opposite and more sensible 
view, I must say that Mrs. Tucker writes 
charmingly and in a submissive spirit, but 
that she, like all conservatives, finds her 
perspectives too much in the past, among 
dead or decaying creeds and systems. Trees 
and birds are very pleasant incidents in our 
world, but the creation of man was an im¬ 
provement on all previous productions, and 
included much that the others lacked. Per 
haps the active and progressive principle of 
creation, in extending its harmonizing and 
perfecting hand to humanity, related Hie 
female and masculine halves more intimately 
and equally than it did in all former types 
of life. Tills is certainly a reasonable infer¬ 
ence, drawn from the geological history of 
the world. Whether it is true or not is of 
little consequence, when we consider that 
this equalizing tendency is positively and 
unmistakably revealed in every generation 
of our race. 
Ever since the dark ages, when woman 
was regarded as little better than a chattel 
slave, or us fit only for one of tho seven 
hundred mistresses of a Hebrew king, the 
iron grip of civil and social arbitrary rule 
lias been slowly relaxing from both her soul 
and body. A few years more, and she will 
stand erect, the owner and the guardian of 
her own person in every station of life,— 
great-hearted and free, true to man because 
first true to herself; fitted lo match a higher 
expression of manhood than wo now have, 
and worthy to be mother of a nobler race. 
Those who object to Ibis picture, will do 
well to leave the fields of our best civiliza¬ 
tion, and, with a small satchel filled with 
the bare necessaries of existence, take the 
first train of cars for the homes of the “ Dig 
ger Indians.” There they will see the re¬ 
verse of this ideal, and after feasting their 
eyes upon it for a few years, can, if they de¬ 
sire, return and make their choice between 
the. two. Not that their choice will affect 
the result, for the world will move and the 
sun shine independent of their consent or 
even tlieir knowledge. Bungay wrote well 
and truthfully when he said, in one of hks 
strongest poems; 
” Tho mighty engine of Reform 
Is plowing on thro’ sun and storm, 
O’er broken scepters, crowns, and thrones, 
And brings us bread lnsteud of stones-, 
’ TIs Freedom’s song the mass are singing, 
So, 1 look out while tho bell Is ringing.’ ” 
■ ■ ■ ♦» »- 
OUT OF BUSINESS. 
Horace Greeley says:—“ I know there 
are to-day one thousand college graduates, 
some of them having graduated with honor 
at German Universities, who are walking 
the stony streets of New York, and know 
not how to earn a living. This is a con¬ 
demnation of our system of classical educa¬ 
tion. As n preparation for professional life, 
—1 should rather say for certain pursuits in 
life,—it may be very well; but when I see, 
as I do see, so many men whose education 
lias cost so much, find themselves totally 
unable, with all that, to earn n living; not 
immoral men, not drinking men, but men, 
simply, who cannot find places adapted to 
their capacity; when I see this I am moved 
to protest against a system of education 
which seems to me so narrow and partial.” 
-- 
An old bachelor, who bears his lonely 
state with much equanimity, says;—“It is 
better to be laughed at for not being married 
than be unable to laugh because you arc.” 
Ijiiblwt!] Ucubing 
A SOLDIER’S DEATH. 
The following lines were found under tlio pillow 
of a soldier wlio whs lying dead in u hospital near 
Port Royal. 
I lay me down to sleep. 
With little thought or care 
Whether my waking find 
Me here, or there. 
A bowing, burdened hoad, 
That only seeks to rest, 
Unquestioning, upon 
A loving breast. 
My good right hand forgets ^ 
fts wonted cunning now; 
To march tho weary march, 
I know not how. 
I am not eager, bold, 
Nor strong-nil that is past; 
Tho summons home 1ms come 
At hist, at last. 
My half day’s work is done, 
And this is nil my part; 
I give a patient God 
My patient heart, 
And grasp Ills banner still, 
Though all the blue be dim ; 
These stripes, no less than stars, 
Load after Him. 
♦ -■ 
RELIGION AT HOME. 
It should be a more famiiini* thing than it 
ordinarily is. Do not think we would have 
less reverence manifested toward it in the 
family circle than elsewhere. The very 
ground work lbr religious faith is reverence. 
Bui; they who put religion afar off—who 
stand in awe of it ever, instead of taking it 
to their hearts in a warm embrace,—are no 
more reverent than tlieir opposites. And 
they beget a distance between others and 
God which is baneful. Tho tendcrest thing 
in man’s relations is that God is liis Father, 
and In a parent we should go in perfect Ivust- 
fiiluess. We seldom trust those whom we 
do not in some way get near to, and there is 
no better way in which to get near to God 
than through the inducting influence of re¬ 
ligion at home. 
Let the child feel, from its earliest suscep¬ 
tibility, mental and moral, that religion is a 
warm, close thing,—let him grow up to real¬ 
ize the fact that his individual conflict with 
the All-Father is as immediate and direct as 
with his earthly parents,—and lie will hardly 
fail of walking aright. On the other hand, 
let there he never so much real worship in 
the parents’ hearts, but shut in there, or only 
evincing itself In that distant, unfamiliar 
manner which is entirely too common in 
Christian homes, and the child grows away 
from his best good just as surely as he grows 
at all. 
Dr. IIauvey more explicitly shows what 
vve mean in the following language:—“ Re¬ 
ligion at home should not he cold, morose, 
gloomy, repellent; but genial, joyous, —a 
perpetual joy beaming from the eye, lighting- 
up the countenance, and thrilling in the very 
tones of the voice. Make your home sun¬ 
shiny and luippy. Tho young heart is boil¬ 
ing over with glee and frolic. God made it 
so; and you should provide the moans of in 
nocont, recreation. Youth is the period of 
impression and imitation, when refined tustes, 
noble sympathies, and holy aspirations are 
most readily developed. Provide, then, 
books, and papers, and pictures, and flowers 
at home,— every appliance to waken and 
strengthen all that is pure and noble in 
them. Let your children feel that tlieir 
father’s house is the dearest, happiest spot on 
earth, and as they pass out into life’s ac¬ 
tivities and responsibilities, Jet them remem¬ 
ber the home of their childhood, not as the 
place of bitter words and hard drudgery, 
where they simply ate, and drank, and slept, 
but as the sunniest spot in all the past, where 
their sweetest, holiest affections gather, and 
where all their truest aspirations and tlieir 
noblest principles were fostered.” 
-»■»■» 
VOICES OF GRACE. 
It is marvelous and beautiful to observe 
how various are the voices of free grace. “ I 
am thirsty,” says one. “Come to the waters,” 
she cries. 
“ 1 am hungry,” says another. “ Then oat 
ye that which is good,” she says, “ and let 
your soul delight itself in fatness.” 
“But I am poor, and have nothing to buy 
wil.it.” “Come buy wine and milk without 
money and without price.” 
“ We are. weary,” sigh the laborers in the 
sun-beaten fields. “Come unto Me,” breathes 
her answer, like a breeze from the waters, 
“ and 1 will give you rest,” 
" Cast thy burdens on the Lord, and lie 
will sustain thee,” she whispers to the pil¬ 
grim ready to taint on the highway. 
“ Behold the fountain,” she cries to the 
guilty; “ the fountain opened for sin and un- 
cleanness.” 4 
+♦*- i 
Time borders upon eternity. It requires ' 
but an instant to make the passage from the i 
one to the other. J 
Philip Sidney said“ 1 am no herald to l 
inquire of men’s pedigree ; it is enough for me *2 
to know tlieir virtue. u 
