a large bow of wide ribbon of the color of 
the dress. 
Another of light gray foulard. Under¬ 
skirt trimmed with two box-plaitings; above 
this two cross strips of light, green silk, be¬ 
tween which is placed a row of small green 
buttons. Tunic crosses on the breast, and 
forms in front a point, trimmed with a box- 
plaiting, surmounted by two rows of green 
silk on the Idas, between which runs a row 
of green buttons. This trimming runs up 
one side as far as the waist; on the right the 
tunic is raised by a tab; sack presents two 
pointed skirts in fVont, and behind a rounded 
one. Tabs catcli up the* jacket at the sides; 
and it has lappcls trimmed with double row 
of green silk, with small green buttons. 
Sleeves close fitting, bordered by a double 
plaiting. 
Costume of light green velour. Skirt with 
deep flounce, scalloped ami bound with silk 
or satin to match ; it is headed by two rows 
of silk or satin piping, and a flat 
scalloped band of velour. The 
second skirt has a narrower 
flounce with a similar heading; 
it is looped up at the sides, and 
forms a 
wealth and happiness. Now, as the rainy 
weather and the long winter evenings ap¬ 
proach, ask yourselves if you can afford to 
do without these things. 
Many of our well-to-do farmers and others 
are too niggardly in regard 10 the money 
they invest in the education of their children. 
If a child will lake an education, he or she 
has a right to it; and there are Jew maxims 
I believe in more implicitly than,—“ Where 
there is a will there is a way.” 
But lately T heard a lady of wealth, and 
one of good natural abilities, say to another 
of intelligence and good education:—“Oh, 
if my father had only done as yours did, and 
given me a good education, I would wil¬ 
lingly exchange for it every cent I possess 
to-day.” We ask:—Can parents afford to 
store the lives of their sons and their daugh¬ 
ters with such regrets as these? k. r. r. 
miners 
SATURDAY NIGHT 
THE LATEST FASHIONS, 
MY MARGUERITE 
Tmc work-day week has Clttf Us yoke 
Of troublous toil and careful quest; 
Tho Ungering twlliulit's Bullion clonk 
Trulls o'er the dusky West, 
Anil curfew clocks with mcsHureit stroko 
Chime In the o> o of rest. 
BY MADAME II. CHARDON. 
We drifted o’er the silent lake In night’s delicious 
calm, 
We glided past the fragrant shores of cypress and of 
bulm. 
And sweetest eyes In all the world, though dimmed 
by anxious fears, 
Booked tenderly into mine own, blind with despair¬ 
ing tears. 
It was the last of summer days that fled, alas! too 
soon, 
Tho iastof silver-footed hours beneath the harvest 
moon; 
It was the last of summer nights and love and sweet 
romance. 
For with the dawn my Marguerite would sail for 
sunny France; 
And floating there In gny salons, wooed by most sub¬ 
tle art, 
Ah! would she true and faithful prove to one leal 
IQngltsb heart? 
My soul fed on the sweet belief, nor dreamed that 
other fate 
Could leave my heart n stranded wreck, all cold and 
desolate. 
Now angry floods drive from the heaven, the dark 
clouds hurry by,— 
No summer moon with chastened light gleams from 
the stormy sky: 
And love that one short year ago made earth en¬ 
chanted ground, 
All pallid lies with broken shaft .beneath a burial 
mound. 
A promenade clown Broadway is always 
amusing; one can make most interesting 
observations, but especially at the time of 
year when tlie trees undergo the glorious 
changes of foliage, and nature clothes itself 
again in beauty, before it goes to sleep in t,lie 
arms of winter. This is also the time when 
the fair sex appears most charming, before 
putting on the winter coverings. I call the 
attention of every lady to one tiling :—No 
lady of taste will wear a winter cloak over a 
thin summer dress, or a straw hat or bonnet 
with a velvet mantle. Autumn toilets should 
be suitable to the season. 
From fallow fields and woody dells 
The crickets chirp their pleasant lays ; 
The kino come up. with tinkling bolls, 
Through nil the loomy ways ; 
And buckets drip by busy wells, 
And ruddy luglos blnvo. 
Hl:i whirling wheel tho miller stops ; 
The smith Ids silent anvil leaves; 
Ilis ringing six Use Joiner drops; 
No more the weaver weaves; 
Ills loaded wsiin the peddler props 
Beneath tins tuveru eaves. 
A happy hush, a tranquil balm, 
As If the week-day eark and caro 
Were lifted off and left ns calm. 
Pervades tho quiet air; 
A sense as of a stlont psalm, 
A feeling ns of prayer. 
For now tho night, with soft delay, 
Seems brooding like a tender dove, 
While the last hours of Saturday 
Shut In the homes of love, 
And the sweet Sabbath spans tho way 
To holler homes above. 
God help us nil I since hero below 
Few Saturdays urn ours at best, 
And out of pain and earthly woo 
Few days of Sabbath rest! 
God touch us that we yet may kno 
The Sabbaths of the blest. 
f.l. .7. H. Duganne. 
- +++ - 
EFFECTIVE CHRISTIANITY. 
ETERNAL DISH WASHINGS 
We are not sure that the ladies will thank 
us for reproducing tlie following by Rev. 
T. K. Beecher, as it may be simply repeat¬ 
ing a, to them, tiresome truth; but It will 
show them that at least one man appreciates 
their real condition in life: 
“Tlje quiet fidelity with which “she” 
will dish-wash her life away for “ him” is a 
marvel of endurance and grace. Just here 
is the servitude of woman heaviest — no 
sooner is her work done than it requires to 
be done again. Man works up jobs, ends 
them, and takes bis pay. This pay can be 
translated into something else desirable. A 
man works all day, and draws pay for bis 
day’s work. This pay allures him, as oats a 
horse, homeward hound. Titus men work 
by terms and jobs; and although work is 
endless as to quantity, yet when cut up thus 
into terms and Jobs, wo men go heartily on 
our journey and count our milestones. 
“ Not so with our mate. She mends our 
socks, and we put our irrepressible toe upon 
the darned spot, and she darns It again. 
“ She " washes for the family, and the family 
makes haste to send back the same garments 
to he washed again. “ She ” puts the room 
in order, and we get ready to bo “rid up’ 
again. The same socks, the same washing, 
the same room every time. Bhe lias no suc¬ 
cessive jobs, no terms, no pay-day, no tally- 
stick of life. She. washes the same dish three 
hundred and sixty-five—yes, three times 
three hundred and sixty-five times every 
year. No wonder she. breaks it and is glad 
of it! What a relief to say 1 I’ve done with 
that dish!’ ” 
round tablier (apron) 
and full puff. High waist, open 
in front, trimmed with a scal¬ 
loped hand and pipings; out¬ 
line bretelles and a small square 
tablin'; below the latter falls a 
deep ruffle. Sleeves with large 
scalloped cufl's, confined by pi¬ 
pings, silk or satin waistband 
with large rosette tho color of 
the clress. Costume of Lucifer- 
colored velour. The lower skirt 
has three narrow ruffled floun- 
k ccs of black velvet, each sur¬ 
mounted by flat bands of velvet 
ribbon. The second skirt is 
looped up with large bows of 
the same. Close filling waist 
with long tight, sleeves. The 
pointed basque is divided into 
three parts; each of these lias 
the sides folded over. The 
PHIpIp& fe waistband fastens beneath it 
|pp||yp!l| large bow with square ends, 
v^tlprv^- The rn ® es an ^ narrow bands 
nic °f black velvet. 
Costume of dust-colored al- 
% pacu. Lower skirt with large 
scallops, formed by puffings of 
' ■material, and flutings 
of broad, black satin ribbon. 
Three large pulls, and a deep, 
hupmi square apron compose the soe- 
ond skirt; pullings and fluted 
ribbons trim the apron. Plain, 
high, waist and straight sleeves 
are trimmed to correspond. A Marie Antoi¬ 
nette fichu of alpaca, crosses in front, falling 
in long, square ends; at the back it, forms a 
[telerino, which passes beneath the ceinturc 
(waistband)and terminates in a small, square 
basque.; it is also bordered by a pulling and 
fluted ribbon. The waist-band is a broad, 
blue ribbon, knotted at the back, with long, 
floating ends. 
Even i net Drosses. 
Brocade silk is very fashionable for even¬ 
ing dresses, Ono with a lavender ground, 
with bouquets of bright colored flowers, is 
made up with the skirt cn train, and without 
trimming. Above this is worn a sort of 
basque, or casaquo, cut cn Piincem, without, 
seam at, the waist; it is open in front, cn tu- 
nujue, and forms two deep shaped bouffants 
at the back, which are caught up in the cen¬ 
ter by bows and loops of lavender satin, and 
a similar group of bows and loops is placed 
at each side of the waist in f ront. This tu- 
niguc is edged all round by a flounce of black 
or white lace, which is headed by a band of 
lavender satin ribbon, with a very narrow 
lace on the upper edge. Tint body is open 
itnd cut square, a la Watteau ; it is edged by 
MURDERING THE INFANTS, 
Two years ago, in this department of the 
Rurat,, wo called attention to a matter 
which we feel compelled to allude to again. 
On these biting October mornings we sec 
children of two to six years going about in 
short dresses, with limbs often entirely bare, 
or iit the most only covered by thin cotton 
stockings, and the sight rouses every spark 
of indignation within us. What have the 
little ones done that they should he so inhu¬ 
manly treated? Have mothers lost their 
common sense, when they tints send them 
out unprotected, or are they desirous of put¬ 
ting their offspring to death by slow torture ? 
These questions are not severe, or uncalled 
for. It is the general custom, we observe, 
even in mid-winter, to clothe, or not. clothe, 
children in the way mentioned. It is the 
fashion, and must, be followed out. But who 
will assume the responsibility? For there la 
a responsibility attaching to it, and a terribly 
weighty one. Look at the sometimes fearful 
mortality among children, and ask the cause. 
We believe many women are morally re¬ 
sponsible for murder when they hurry them¬ 
selves on to death through tight lacing; wo 
consider them doubly responsible for the 
same crime when they knowingly do what 
may and often does cans? the death of their 
offspring. 
Knowingly, we say. And can any woman 
plead ignorance of the fact that to send a 
child out bare-legged into a frosty atmos¬ 
phere will lay it liable to all tho ills which 
childhood is licir to? How would such ex¬ 
posure affect Iter own health? Were we 
counsel for mothers in this case wc should 
bring in the plea of thoughtlessness. Even 
that is fearfully criminating. Wlntt should 
make them thoughtful, if not motherly love ? 
To be thoughtless in this regard is to prove 
recreant to the most exalted duty ever de¬ 
volved upon humanity. 
We are not disposed to captious fault¬ 
finding. What we have here said is de¬ 
manded by the sufferings of those who may 
not make fitting appeal for themselves. It 
should lie the most sacred instinct of human 
nature to properly care for the wank and 
helpless. Where that instinct is disregarded, 
and those entrusted to our guardianship are 
the innocent victims of such disregard, there 
is a call for plain speaking and earnestness. 
In regard to that. Christianity which the 
world most requires to-day Bishop Hunting- 
ton very truly remarks: 
We want in you, Christianity that is 
Christian across counters, over dinner tables, 
behind the neighbor’s back, as in his face. 
We want in you a Christianity that we can 
find in the temperance of the meal, in modera¬ 
tion of dress, in respect l’or authority, in 
amiability at home, in veracity and simplicity 
in mixed society. Rowland Hill used to say 
lie would give very little for tho religion of 
a man whose very dog and cat were not tho 
better for his religion. Wc want fewer 
gossiping, slandering, gluttonous, peevish, 
conceited, bigoted Christians. 
To make them effectual, all our public re¬ 
ligious measures, institutions, benevolent 
agencies, missions, need to lie managed on a 
high-toned, scrupulous and unquestionable 
tone of honor, without evasion, or partisan¬ 
ship, or overmuch of the serpent’s cunning. 
The hand that gives away the Biblcmustbc 
unspotted from the world. The money that 
sends the; missionary to the heathen must, bo 
honestly earned. In short t he two arms of 
the church—justice and mercy—must, be 
stretched out, working for man, strengthen¬ 
ing the brethren, or else your faith is vain, 
and yo are yet in your sius. 
A MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTER 
ON MARRIAGE. 
my beloved child, about to 
You are now 
leave those arms which have hitherto cher¬ 
ished you, and directed your every step, and 
at length conducted you to a rafe, happy, 
and honorable protection, in the very bosom 
of love and honor. You must now lie no 
longer the flighty, inconsiderate, haughty, 
passionate girl, but ever, with reverence and 
delight, have the merit of your husband In 
view., Reflect how vast the sum of your 
obligation to the man who confers upon you 
independence, distinction, and, above all, 
felicity. Moderate, then, my beloved child, 
your private expenses, and proportion your 
general expenditure to the standard of 
his fortune, or rather his wishes. I fear not 
that, with your education and principles, you 
can ever forget the more sacred duties, so 
soon to lie your sphere of action. Remem¬ 
ber the solemnity of your vows, the dignity 
of your character, the sanctity of your con¬ 
dition. You are amenable to society for 
your example, to your husband for his 
honor and happiness, and to Heaven itself 
for those rich talents entrusted to your care 
and your improvement; and though, in the 
maze of pleasure, or the whirl of passion, 
the duties of the heart may lie forgotten, 
remember, my darling child, there is a re¬ 
cord which will one day appear in terrible 
evidence against ns for our least omission. 
CHRISTIAN FRIENDSHIP, 
Friendship, founded on the principles of 
worldly morality, recognized by virtuous hea¬ 
thens, such as that which subsisted between 
Atticus and Cicero, winch tho last of these 
illustrious men lias rendered immortal,is fit¬ 
ted to survive through all the vicissitudes of 
life; hut it, belongs only to a union founded 
on religion, to continue through an endless 
duration. The former of these stood the 
shock of conflicting opinions, and of a revolu¬ 
tion that shook the world; the latter is 
destined to survive when the heavens are no 
more, and to spring fresh from the ashes of 
tho universe. Tho former possessed all the 
stability which is possible to sublunary 
things; the latter partakes of the eternity of 
God. Friendship founded on worldly princi¬ 
ples is natural , and, though composed of the 
best elements of nature, is mil exempt from 
its mutability and frailty; tho latter is 
spiritual, and therefore unchanging and im¬ 
perishable. The friendship which is founded 
on kindred tastes and congenial habits, apart 
from piety, is permitted by the benignity of 
Providence to embellish a world, which, with 
all its magnificence and beauty, will shortly 
puss away; that which has religion for its 
basis, will ere long ho transplanted in order 
to adorn the paradise of God .—Jlobert Hall, 
THINGS WE CAN’T AFFORD 
Oun mothers taught us very imperfectly 
the distinction between spending and invest¬ 
ing ; and if we read tho signs of the times 
aright, the sins of the mothers will be vis¬ 
ited upon the daughters even, unto the third 
and fourth generation. Of course, we have 
a vague idea that “ he that glveth to the 
poor lendeth to the Lord, and he will repay 
him again;” but have we any adequate idea 
of the safety and the blessedness of this in¬ 
vestment of giving ? 
1 do not refer to gold and silver alone. 
Can we afford to spend so much time in 
fashionable calls, and fashionable parties, 
and fashionable dress, und invest so little 
among the sick, tbe sad, and the suffering 
ones in our midst? Again, can we afford 
to spend so much time and money on ex¬ 
travagances of dress and in luxuries, and 
invest so little in papers, books and lec¬ 
tures ? We can count families by the score, 
now, in tho Nineteenth Century, whose 
reading matter is confined to a cheap relig¬ 
ious publication, perhaps monthly or semi¬ 
monthly, and a weekly one of local news. 
Your children positively waste (or worse 
than throw away,) much of the time in long 
evenings and in rainy days, which, if in¬ 
vested in good papers, magazines and books, 
would prove to them an exhaustless mine of 
Fijt.t, of Love. — The sun is full of heat 
and light., and it asks no questions as to how 
it shall do good, but is perpetually pouring 
out its golden flood. The spring that spar¬ 
kles at the foot of the hill is full; and, ask¬ 
ing leave of no one, is forever welling forth 
its sweet waters. So the Christian, if only 
full of the love of God and man, anil shed¬ 
ding around him benign influences as a nat¬ 
ural result, cannot Help doing good. 
As taught by the Saviour there was a de¬ 
velopment, gradual and slow, of* the plan of 
salvation. The first promise of a Redeemer 
was very mysterious. Mysterious as it was, 
however, it contained the germ of our present 
spiritual life, and the many blessings now 
being enjoyed by Christians. And it is 
destined to ultimate in glory such “ as eye 
hath not seen nor ear heard, neither hath 
entered into the heart of man.” 
Queen Victoria favors short riding 
dresses, gored on the inner side to fit the 
conformation of the saddle. 
