fbittojr. 
NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
Pictorial Field* Hook of the of 1812* 
(New York: Harper & Brothers.) — Indefatiga¬ 
ble, careful and faithful. Mr. Benson ,T. Los- 
sino has no superior in his peculiar sphere as a 
historian. The present work, the fruit.of years 
of travel and research, is another monument to 
his unt iring industry, as well as a worthy memo¬ 
rial of the national struggle which so soon suc¬ 
ceeded the Revolution. Its narrative of historic 
events begins where the Field-Book of the Rev¬ 
olution left it. and vividly depicts the state of 
the country as it.then existed, and its relations 
abroad. Then it moves on through the Indian 
outbreak, and the second war for independence 
which followed, bringing the chronicles down to 
the Treaty of Ghent in 1815. It is more than a 
dry recital of facts. Mr. Lnssrso tells us he 
traveled more than ten thousand miles in the 
tluited States and Canadas, wit h note-hook and 
pencil, visiting places of historic interest, from 
the Great Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico, gather¬ 
ing up, recording and delineating everything of 
special value not already found in books; and 
the vast quantity of new and interesting matter 
he has presented fully' proves his statement 
true. Indeed so much fresh and interesting de¬ 
scription and history does his hook contain that 
it is of unusual interest, and possesses more 
attraction than a merely cursory glance would 
disclose. The volume is a royal octavo, num¬ 
bering 1,084 pages, handsomely bound, and has 
nearly half as many illustrations, all of which 
are excellently executed, and serve, as so many 
book engravings now-a-days do not, a better 
purpose than to merely All up space. The au¬ 
thor's pen and pencil have so long labored con¬ 
jointly that they seem in most, perfect harmony, 
and work for a common end,— the information 
of the reading public. 
The Innocent* Abroad » or. The JV«t Pit « 
g-rini>* Protrreu ». (Hartford: American Pub¬ 
lishing Company.)—An excursion toEuropeand 
the Holy Land, in a steamer chartered for the 
purpose, was a notable thing, and deserved a 
chronicler. Tt was well, therefore, that when 
the Quaker City sailed from the port, of New 
York, two years ago, Bamuki. L. Clkmf.ns, better 
known ns “ Mark Twain," was numbered among 
the pleasure party she carried. His record of 
her voyage, and of the cxcursiotiists' eight-see¬ 
ing in Europe ami the Orient, appears in this 
portly volume of six hundred and fifty octavo 
pages, profusely Illustrated. As Mark Twain 
is a professed humorist, we expected to find the 
book lively and entertaining. It. is; and is so 
different from the usual style travelers intiiot 
upon the public that wo have read It with real 
interest. There are some tine touches of des¬ 
cription, some sentimontalizings that have gen¬ 
uine pathos In them; and the author manifests 
so much individuality that we enjoy his com¬ 
pany. Vet we could wish that he were not al¬ 
ways disposed to Jesting, sometimes very poor 
jesting, too; and that a little more reverence 
entered into his nature. There are several pas¬ 
sages that might be stricken out to advantage. 
Indeed, the whole book might, he condensed one- 
third, with positive gain, it Is too bulky. The 
two hundred and thirty-four engravings aro not 
in the highest style of art, and were evidently 
put. in to till up. But this is not the author’s 
fault. We suppose he wrote the book to order, 
as it is a subscription hook„and the publishers 
must adorn It to make tt sell. 
-*♦«-- 
(itma of Herman l.yrici. (Philadelphia: 
Claxton, Remscn & Haffcltlngcr.)—Neatly print¬ 
ed, both in the original German text and as ren¬ 
dered into English by Henry D. WlHBMAN, 
and beautifully bound, these so-called "gems" 
at first attract our attention because of thoir 
setting. We regret to say, however, that, apart 
from the setting, they are of little value. We 
confess to no great familiarity with current 
German poetry, hut if these eighty (or there¬ 
abouts) poems are really the gems of Rerckert, 
Lenatt, and others, we are very glad to escapo 
an acquaintance with their common-place pro¬ 
ductions. There are not more than a half dozen 
among the whole number of any poetical merit 
whatever, judging only from the translations. 
-*♦«--- 
The Choral Tribute. (Boston: Oliver Ditson 
A- Go.)—We consider this collection of new 
church music as a very excellent one. It Is di¬ 
vided into five parts, in which are elementary 
instructions, very well arranged; carefully 
chosen glees, opera choruses, quartets, &c.; 
hymn tunes in all the principal meters; a large 
variety of anthems and chants; and the popular 
congregational tunes. The new hymn tunes do 
not strike us as, generally, of a very marked 
melodic character, but they are nevertheless 
good. Most of the ant hems are especially pleas¬ 
ing. The whole work is admirably adapted to 
the use of singing schools, choirs and conven¬ 
tions, and AVill, we think, he popular. 
-- 
The JAterature and the Literary Jlten of 
Or eat Hrltaln and Ireland. (New York: 
Harper & Brothers.)— Beginning with Ossian, 
and coming down to the Seventeenth Century, 
these two volumes of lectures by the late Pro¬ 
fessor Miles, give an admirable resume of Eng¬ 
lish Literature, and are happily adapted as text¬ 
books for the higher grades of schools. No other 
work of the kind with which we are familiar 
contains so much in as comparatively small 
space. All the noteworthy poets and prose 
writers of the period are briefly treated of; and 
the specimens of their writings which are given 
are judiciously selected. 
Cord and Cretee, (New York; Harper & 
Brothers,) by the author of " The Dodge Club,” 
is sufficiently sensational to have been written 
by Reade, and reminds one of some of his sto¬ 
ries. The plot is elaborate, i nvolved, and affords 
an abundance of dramatic material. No one 
who begins to read “Cord and Creese” will he 
likely to lay it down ami call it “stupid." It 
contains quite as many improbabilities as proha- 
► bilities; but it lacks no essential to render it en¬ 
joyable to those who relish a readable novel, 
-*♦»- 
, Faith, (New York ; Harper & Broth¬ 
ers,) one of the “ Library of Select Novels," in 
cheap form, is by the author of “Jennie’s Quiet 
Life;" and, though we have not road it as care¬ 
fully as wo perused that, we are prepared to bo- 
liove It a pleasant story, and pure in toue. 
.... 
... i * 
. ,i x J 
IN A DREAM. 
BY A. H. LINTON. 
It was only a dream that I had,— 
Only a dream, as of night, 
That was both with a. sorrow moat touchingly sad 
And glad with a tender delight. 
It took me away from the cure of the day. 
From Its wearisome labor and pain, 
And it boro mo abovu as on pinions Of love 
Whore onr faith Its fruition shall gain ; 
Hut I wept with the consciousness pressing me sore 
That my unfinished labor must rest evermore. 
I had wearied. 1 know, of my toll, 
Wearied and worn I hud said 
“There is recompense none for this bitter turmoil; 
It were, hotter, I think, to be dead," 
I had stopped by the way in the boat of the day 
And in slumber had burled my pain, 
When a whisper of love from some angel above 
Said “ Your rest It may be is your gain, 
Butthn purchase will count, In the end very dear 
For your unfinished work will forever appear." 
In the Joy of my slenp I hud laughed,— 
Laughed that my labor was douoi 
Of some soothing elixir my spirit had quaffed. 
Till the eve of content was begun. 
I had wandered away from the fret, of the day. 
From its longing. Its failure. Its pain. 
And on wings of a dove 1 bad flown far above 
To the rest that, the blessed shall gain ; 
But I wnpt as the voice of the angel I heard, 
And my lire to Its Innermost being was stirred. 
I awoke, and my eyelids were wet,- 
Wet with the tears I had shed ; 
It was only a dream, but- I'll never forget 
Whst the dream to my reasoning said : 
“Though you wander away from the work of To-day, 
From Its duties that bring only pain. 
Through the pitying love or the Father above 
The world may not lose In your gain. 
For another may tlnlsh your labor begun : 
But 'twere better your hand should not leave it un¬ 
done !” 
oo 
•toms for ilnraltsts. 
WINNING A WIFE. 
THE STORY 
OLD YOUNG MAN. 
-A- HARVEST-TIMF, FESTIVAL I1ST POXjAJSTD. 
'Octal 
optrs. 
A HARVEST FESTIVAL. 
Nowtliat, the harvest fruits are heine; gath¬ 
ered in, and at Fairs and Exhibitions in all 
parts of our country are seen generous show¬ 
ings of what good Mother Earth kindly does 
for us, some allusion to harvest-time scenes 
may not be uninteresting to Rural readers. 
The harvest-time has ever been one of glad 
cheer to all, and there have grown out of the 
yearly recurring joy, in many countries, cus¬ 
toms not only indicative of the general good 
feeling prevalent, but exceedingly curious 
withal. Our illustration portrays one of the 
most curious, which is thus described; 
In the palatinate of Bandomir, Poland, 
intersected by the Vistula, on Assumption 
Day, and after the crops have been harvested, 
the reapers, gaily tricked out in their holi¬ 
day finery, assemble to celebrate the harvest 
festival. The belle of the community is 
crowned with a rustic crown of straw, en¬ 
twined with flowers, bay leaves and wheat 
ears, and then makes her way to the church, 
followed by all the villagers. Depositing 
her crown on the high altar, it is blessed by 
the priest after a mass, when the whole 
party, with songs and music, proceed to the 
house of the Mayor, who attaches a lusty 
young rooster to the top of the crown. If 
he crows, there is unbounded delight, for all 
feel assured that the next year’s harvest, will 
he good, and they will be cordially wel¬ 
comed by their employer; if he keep silent, 
and does not pick at the grain in the crown, 
it is considered a bad omen. 
The procession next make their way to 
the chateau of their employer, and chant in 
concert such words as these:—“ Open your 
doors! We have harvested your grain, and 
it is more numerous than the stars in the 
heavens. Come out of your castle and ac¬ 
cept the crown which rests upon this young 
girl’s head, for it is the crown of crowns and 
is of pure gold and not of wheat! We de¬ 
serve to be received in your palace, for our 
heads are burned with the rays of the sun, 
our hands are cut by the sickle, our knees 
are weary by contact with the cart, our 
backs are bent by toiling in your fields ! Re¬ 
member, lord, that roast beef is good for a 
weary back, mutton for tired knees, veal for 
blistered feet, geese, chickens and ducks for 
bruised hands, and brandy and ale for heads 
parched by the scorching sun." 
An address follows; the lord of the castle 
comes forth with his wife and children and 
makes presents to tlu^fliost deserving; the 
lady of the castle removes the crown from 
the head of the queen of the festival, who 
is presented with quite a sum of money; all 
are liberally entertained with eatables and 
drinkables; and after the repast there is 
dancing and merry-making through the 
whole night. 
- 4 -*-*- 
MEANING OF NAMES. 
As given to children in the old times 
names had their meaning. They were not 
chosen at random, or given for a mere 
fancy because they chanced to please the 
ear. Tt is pleasant, to reflect, upon the deep 
significance of some of the Bible names,—to 
see how each was indeed a prophecy, that 
its owner fully fulfilled. Writing of this in 
the Western Home, Robert Collyf.k says: 
Miriam —the Mistress of the sea — is a 
name one wants to give to that noble woman 
down on our coast who has just done a piece 
of splendid heroism; and that Captain’s 
wife who, not long since, brought, a ship 
from under the world; and that woman 
whoso name will never be known until the 
judgment day, who was Hu: lastat, the pumps 
when the Glasgow went down ; and a thou¬ 
sand women beside that have met the siyi 
monster anti fought him with as high and 
true a courage as ever was found in the man. 
Bo Elizabeth is the fullness of God, and 
Mary is Miriam over again, but capable of 
the meaning—exalted. And Martha is the 
one who becomes hitter, an uneasy child, 
probably, as she was a woman. But Anna 
is gracious, and Sarah, a lady; and Ruth 
is satisfied; and Solomon, perfect; Susan¬ 
nah is a rose and a joy; and Stephen is 
crowned; and Paul is a worker; and 
Matthew, a reward; and John is the 
mercy of the Lord; and Job is the one that 
utters a hollow cry; and Joshua is the 
saviour, and Jesus is the exact equivalent of 
Joshua, modernized. 
Now this is the spirit of these old Scrip¬ 
ture mimes that we take for our children at 
their baptism. It was a baptism to them 
from the water of life, from the living heart 
of things. The name went right, home. 
Something that, had lifted up, or cast down, 
or shaken the life of those that gave it, and 
to whom the child was given. It was no 
conventional John or Mary, no mere dis¬ 
tinguishing mark to put on a letter, or a 
deed, but a piece of pure gold, out ofhuman 
emotions and convictions, made into a seal 
to signify something very sacred within the 
folds of that life. And there might be more 
than there is to all of us as we write upon 
each new life its new name, if we had the 
grace to follow this old fashion, and make 
the name wo give stand for something like 
that which filled it with meaning in the old 
days. _^ ^ ^ _ 
JOLLY BOYHOOD. 
The resources of childhood are nearly in¬ 
exhaustible, As an illustration the Woon¬ 
socket Patriot has the following: 
Nobody else on this planet is so ingenious 
in inventing ftm as a rollicking boy. His re¬ 
sources in this respect are as original as in¬ 
exhaustible. Iu coming down Railroad 
street the other day we had an illustration. 
A hoy of ten years was walking before us 
with legs that would comport with the body 
of Daniel Lambert. Wo looked at him in 
amazement. “ Son, what is the matter with 
your legs?” “Nothing, My legs are bun¬ 
kum. Just see’em walk.” A nd he waddled 
off like a duck. “ What distends your 
breeches so?” “Sand, sir," said he, with a 
hearty laugh. True enough, the boy had 
tied his pants with strings at the bottom, as 
is done iu deep snow, and filled them to the 
waist with sand. We walked away rumina¬ 
ting upon the vast resources of boyhood to 
inaugurate a little fun. Happy boyhood! 
It’s a pity that adult life cannot command as 
much philosophy. 
-- 
NEWSPAPER INFLUENCE. 
Ralph Waldo Emerson says: — “ Show 
us an intelligent family of boys and girls, 
and we will show you a family where no . ;- 
papers and periodicals are plenty. Nobody 
who has been without these private tutors 
can know their educating power for good or 
evil. Have you ever thought of the innu¬ 
merable topics of discussion which they sug¬ 
gest at the breakfast table; the important 
public measures with which, thus early, our 
children become acquainted; great philan¬ 
thropic questions of the day, to which, un¬ 
consciously, their attention is awakened, and 
the general spirit of intelligence which is 
evoked by these quiet visitors ? Anything 
that makes home pleasant, cheerful and 
chatty, thins the haunts of vice and the 
thousand and one avenues of temnto/.lon, 
1 should certainly be regarded, when we con¬ 
sider uz influence on the minds of the young, 
1 as a great social and moral light.” 
L ' --- 
1 He learns much who studies other men; 
i he also learns much who studies himself. 
. (Concluded from page 590, lust No,| 
In the darkness she did not see her hus¬ 
band, who sat there in an arm-chair, too tired 
to care for a light, and waiting for her. He 
would have spoken, but somehow he felt the 
excitement of her mood, and was silenced 
by it. She knelt down, and tried to obey the 
voice. But she could not collect her thoughts; 
and only two words would come, over and 
over again—“ Help, Lord, help!" 
Vaguely Joseph Hannaford comprehended 
that she was passing through the crisis of an 
agony such as lie, in all his placid life, had 
never experienced or witnessed. Some in¬ 
tuition withheld him from trying to comfort, 
her—made him feel how idle would bo any 
consolation which he could offer; but, when 
at last she left the room, he arose and stole 
softly after her. A deep, yearning tender¬ 
ness for her filled his soul full. He thought 
he had never loved her half so well in his 
life; ami what this trouble was which was 
breaking her heart he must know. 
Down stairs she went, and into the dim 
room where Hugh Waring waited for her; 
and lver husband stood just outside the open 
door, and listened breathlessly for her words. 
She spoke at first with a certain feverish 
eagerness, as if she doubted her own strength, 
and must hurry through with what she had 
to say before it failed her; but, as she,went 
on, a deeper and calmer earnestness grew 
into her words. 
“ Your tenderness," she said, “ has made 
life very sweet to me. I never knew what 
it was before to have a friend who cared for 
the same things I cared for; and no one else 
was ever so gentle to me as you have been. 
1 did not know how much you were to me 
until you spoke of going away. I want love 
more than I want any other earthly tiling; 
(mt I do not think this is love which we feel 
for each oilier. You pitied me because you 
saw that my life was a disappointment.— 
that 1 was lonely, and unreconciled to my 
fate; but I do not believe you would have 
chosen me out of a world full of women, if 
you had found me free and happy. As for 
what I feel for you — hut I will not talk 
about that—I have my duty to do. And 
then T did love my husband first. If he had 
loved me in the way I once fancied that ho 
did, I should have gone on feeling the same 
for him forever. And I know I could love 
him, even now, if he cared to he again my 
lover. In any case, I will be true to him. I 
will not make myself unfit to meet my dead 
father and mother again in. heaven. I do 
believe that you would he faithful and ten¬ 
der, but your best, tenderness could not con¬ 
sole me if I had lost for your sake my own 
soul; and l should grow old, and sad, and 
be a burden to you presently.” 
“1 think not—I think never!” Waring 
cried, passionately. “Oh, Carrie! I could 
make you happy.” 
“ Not in despite of God,” she said slowly, 
and then she turned away. 
Standing still in the shadow, her husband 
watched her go up stairs, and then he stole 
noiselessly out of doors, for he was wise 
enough not to go to her. 
What in him was really true and noble, 
and worthy of a woman’s loving, came out 
now, as never before. Ho looked straight 
; into his own heart, with eyes that tried to lie 
as just as the justice of heaven. 
