AY M 
Judies' jJort-#olio. 
LOVE’S LIFE. 
uv U. W. EASTERBKOOKS. 
Din you ever bury a love, My Dear, 
And put It out of si«lit. 
In the stillness of the night, 
As something dead and forever gone, 
Something doad which you might not mourn. 
Something you were ubove. My Dt-ur 
Something you were ubove? 
And then has It over passed. My Dear, 
From out of its narrow tomb, 
From out of surrounding gloom. 
And hurried along to your soul once more? 
With never a sound has it loosed the door 
You barred and bolted fast, My Dear- 
Barred and bolted fast. I 
I buried a love one night. My Dear, 
Buried It down below, 
One night long years ago, 
And covered it up with the sod, 
And over its ashes I trod 
Till all was tlmi and tight, My Dear— 
Till all was Ilrm and tight. 
And then 1 left it alone, My Dear, 
What use to guard n spot 
Where life and hope were not? 
But grave- where, love is laid away 
Must e’en be guarded night and day, 
And hearts must be their stone, My Dear— 
Hearts must be their stone. 
go I loft the old for the now, My Dear, 
Turned uwoy from my dead 
With strangely silent tread. 
Of what avail ? There has followed me, 
In all my Journeys o’er land and sea, 
The ghost of my love for you, My Dear— 
The ghost of tny love for you. 
And we have met again. My Dear; 
You crossed my weary way 
For the first time since to-day. 
Your smile grew sad as It met my eye, 
And mine grow pensive -do you know why? 
That both had suffered was plain, My Dear— 
That both hud suffered was plain. 
Upon nty heart Is your head. My Dear, 
And o'6r thu troubled past , 
Link rest and peace at last. 
And as for the love that I burled below, 
In silent sorrow long years ago, 
I hardly think it was dead. My Dear— 
Hardly think it was dead. 
-♦•m- 
A ROMANTIC REMINISCENCE. 
[We segregate the following from some 
“Notes by the Way aide," by our Corres¬ 
ponding Editor, Col. Harris— written from 
11urou Co.. Ohio. The Colonel, after speak¬ 
ing of practical matters observed during a 
day among old friends in the country, flays, 
“Now let me tell you a sentimental story” 
—and the story follows;] 
Between t en and t wenty years ago, while 
I was editor of the old Ohio Cultivator, 
( had for a constant subscriber at the Green¬ 
wich post-office, a line old Quaker gentle¬ 
man by the name >>f Smith, and among his 
children was one Annie, a girl of lithe 
form, raven hair and gipsey face, with quite 
a dash of romance for a Quaker girl. Six¬ 
teen years ago this Annie suddenly ap¬ 
peared in my office at Columbus, told me 
her name, took a pair of scissors and clip¬ 
ped a lock of my abundant back hair (for mi 
album hair-wreath, as she said,) ami as sud¬ 
denly disappeared. 
I had not seen one of the family before or 
since; but fiuding myself in the neighbor¬ 
hood on this occasion, l alighted at the 
homestead of the Smiths, walked up to the 
open door, whore sat a venerable Quaker 
lady and a gipsy-featured girl — neither she 
nor 1 as young as we were once—and T said, 
“Pardon me, friends, but about sixteen 
years ago a young woman came into my 
office and clipped a lock of iny hair, aud 
now 1 have come to see what she has done 
with it.” 
By the time this clever bit of introduction 
was uttored, Annie's bonnie brown eyes 
were wide open, and her hands extended 
eagerly to clasp mine, as she exclaimed— 
“ Are you friend Harris? ” Well, of course 
I was; aud then I was introduced to the 
venerable mother, and we sat and talked a 
steady stream for an hour; and Annie 
showed me the hair album, where, among 
many (other) distinguished names, was my 
own, alongside of the identical lock of hair 
which this Delilah had clipped from my 
hirsute tresses, as before mentioned. 
The elder Smith had been educated for 
the ministry, in New York; but, his health 
not being good, had settled here with his 
wife, in the wilderness, llfty-two years ago, 
aud lust year he died. The venerable widow 
is a lineal descendant of the family of Kir, 
from Holland, t he original proprietors of 
lands iu the lower part of Broadway in the 
city of New York. Widow Smith told me 
that she remembers heariug her great¬ 
grandmother say that she had milked the 
cows, barefooted, iu a pasture where Trinity 
Church now stands! s, d. h. 
EUROPEAN AND AMERICAN FEMALE 
ATTIRE. 
How shocked would those ladies of our 
“first society ’’ be, if they knew that their 
torturing and ill-formed shoes on whose 
stilt-like heels t hey tilt and suffer, no Paris 
shop-keeper would over offer ton lady. For 
more than two years American women, es¬ 
pecially young girls, have walked the pub¬ 
lic streets, with oonsptcuous chains and lock¬ 
ets, or flaunting bows of ribbon, attracting 
the attention Of every passing gazer, solac¬ 
ing themselves by the thought. that it was 
“ perfectly French.” If so, it was a custom 
which no French lady would wear on the 
public pavement. The dress of the French 
lady is artistic, simple, faultless—faultless 
often because It Is simplicity itself. She may 
wear brilliant colors in her drawing room, 
and in her carriage—never on the street. 
When she walks she wears black or gray, 
audit never drags on the ground. When 
she goes to church she wears the same col¬ 
ors—is always attired in the simplest man¬ 
ner. This is true also of Italy. In the Sis- 
tino chapel, Rome, no lady can enter unless 
attired in black, with no covering on her 
head but a veil of the same hue. What a con¬ 
trast t,o the church attire, of American wo¬ 
men ! They are accustomed to think of them¬ 
selves as perfect saints compared with Ital¬ 
ian and French women, yet they enter the j 
house of God as they would a theater. They 
don their gayest plumage, hang on all their 
chains aud lockets, t ake off their kid gloves 
to show their diamond rings in the sacred 
temple just as Ip the Academy of Music. 
Worse, they stare and comment on each 
other's costumes, and absolutely make the 
church of worship a place In which to study 
the fashions. The same lack of fitness in 
dross is seen in the utter disregard to age, 
as well as occasions iu the adaptation of 
dress. The woman of thirty or forty may 
beas beautiful as a woman of twenty, by 
tier own right, if there’s no incongruity be¬ 
tween her years and her attire. It is only 
when the woinnu of forty dresses like the 
girl of twenty that she looks absurd. A 
French married lady never wears a round 
hat; an English lady only in traveling; an 
English maiden never at church. Yet every¬ 
where American matrons, with faces lined 
and scarred, may be seen with staving jock¬ 
eys, set on their gray heads like helmets, 
beflowered aud befeathered, aud more fan¬ 
tastic than the ones worn by their little 
daughters of ten. Flannel and linen and 
muslin are worthy of tlicir Princes and Prin¬ 
cesses abroad, but are by no means fine 
enough for the little Princes and Princesses 
American. All of which is not French, 
though to bo “perfectly French ” has been 
the alpha and omega of our alphabet in dress. 
—■ - ■ - ■ ■ - 
ANOTHER VIEW OF “ WOMANS RIGHTS. ” 
A “ FAIR ” paper in Troy, New York, con¬ 
cludes an editorial on “Woman’s Rights” 
thus:—“Truly, there’s a good time coining, 
boys. We shall have our ‘thirds’ in our 
wives’ property, and they will be bound to 
support us and our children and pay our 
debts. There was but one drop of bitter in 
the prospective cup. It grinds us to confess 
it, but the humiliating concession must bo 
made—woman will carry the hatch key. 
She will go out after supper to * see a wo- 
man’ or to the ‘ post-office,’ or to serve on a 
• committee.’ After mending the stockings, 
and canvassing the character of all the other 
men in our parish, with our clergy woman, 
who has dropped in, we go to bed. We lie 
awake between the measles and the whoop 
ing-cougb, and late, near our wife stumbling 
over the dour mat, fumbling about, the key¬ 
hole, and coming up stairs a In Nebuchad¬ 
nezzar, and experience the sensation of a 
corner ‘ grocery’ entering our chamber. The 
picture becomes painful, and we drop the 
curtain.” 
-- 
Pretty Girls, unless they have wise 
mothers, are more educated by the opposite 
sex than their own. Put them where you 
will, their is always some man busying him¬ 
self in their instruction; aud the burden of 
maflculino teaching is generally about the 
same, and might be stereotyped as follows: 
“ You don’t need to be or do anything. 
Your business in life is to look pretty, and 
amuse us. You dou’t need to study; you 
know all by nature that a woman need to 
know. The only sense you need Is lovely 
nonsense. You are, by virtu© of being a 
pretty woman, superior to anything we can 
teach you; and we wouldn’t, for the world, 
have you anything but what you are."— Pink 
and White Tyranny. 
A friend should bo one in whose under¬ 
standing and virtue we can equally conlide, 
and whoso opinion wo can value at once for 
its justness aud sincerity. 
Heading for the foung. 
WHICH rS THE BEST 1 
A DIALOGUE VOW SIX I.ITTLK GIRLS. 
1st Otrl— I’m a little country lassie, 
I can iron, churn ami hake, 
Wash the dishes, feed the poultry, ’ 
Mix u famous johnny-cake; 
Ride the horses down to water, 
Drive the cows to pastures green— 
I would not exchange my station. 
For the throne of England's queen. 
2ft Oirl—Mother calls me little student; 
I can cipher, road and spoil. 
Draw a map or bound a country, 
And in " mental ” 1 excel. 
I shall climb the hill of knowledge, 
To Its very top will no, 
Then success will crown my efforts, 
Teacher says and ain't it so ? 
3d Oirl— I am no(hln« hut a noodle. 
Mother told me so to-day. 
But I really cannot study 
When the very Holds arc gay. 
Birds are calling from the tree-tops— 
Spring Is waking lake and rill; 
row may mope o’er prosy lessons, 
I will bo a noodle still. 
ith Girl— I’m a little city maiden, 
You would know this by my style. 
Quite unlike those country rustics. 
With their broad uncourteoas smile. 
I’ll not soil /n|/ hands by labor, 
Mine were made for higher things; 
Papa calls me “ little angel,” 
All 1 lack, ho says, are wings. 
5 th Oirl— I’m my mother’s little helper. 
And am happy all day long; 
I can bring dear papa's slippers, 
Sing the baby's cradle song. 
Kook him till the angels' whispers 
Make him smile from dreamland shore; 
Run a thousand ways for mother, 
Can a little girl do more ? 
tlth CHrl—Va my mamma's ‘Ittle darling. 
very small Don't you flat I s fresh and sweet, 
With these roses at my shoulders, 
And my muslin dress so neat ? 
Mamma made it dlst on purpose 
'Cause I's goln' to speak to you. 
It h lovely, don't yon Mnt so ! 
Wish 'iwas yours ? I bet you do. 
[Jain ir Joy in ScUoolday Fori tor. 
LETTERS TO YOUNG RURALISTS. VI. 
FROM COUSIN JOHNNIE. 
I was much Interested the other night in 
hearing a gentleman talk about “ snakes," 
so I tried to romember something be said to 
toll my little “ Rural cousins.” He hud Tor 
a pet, at oil© time, he told me, a large black- 
snake which he kept up in the garret, and 
which grew ho tame that) it would come out 
whenever ho rapped on the floor, and driuk 
milk from a spoon in his hand. Tt would 
also submit to have its buck scratched, with 
evident pleasure. Black snakes, as some of 
you may Know, are not poisonous, their 
means or defense being the power of wind¬ 
ing themselves around their enemies, or 
their prey, and squeezing them to death. 
They are able to swallow quite large objects 
sometimes. The gentleman said ho once saw 
one that bad undertaken to swallow a neat 
of young woodpeckers! Hut, alas! for Mr. 
Snake, tho nest was down in the hollotv of 
a tree, aud though Ills head went in the hole 
easily enough, he found it impossible to 
draw it out after taking iu nest and birdies, 
po there he was discovered, hanging out of 
the hole, choked to death! 
Tie also told us about the hoop snake, 
Which has a sling upon its back, near its 
tail. When about to attack any object, it 
erects this sting like a thorn, takes its tail 
iu its mouth, and rolls itself along like ,'t 
hoop, with wonderful quickness, till it 
reaches its destination, when it suddenly 
lets go its tail, and strikes its thorn into,the 
object of its wrath. Tt is said that any one 
so struck will die in twenty minutes. He 
told us, too, about the king snake, the nat¬ 
ural enemy of the rattle snake aud copper¬ 
head. It Is said these latter snakes leave an 
odor like that of cucumbers, where they 
have passed along, and if the king snake 
gets upon their scent he will follow it up 
like any hound, till he finds them, when a 
battle takes pluco, in which, although he 
lias neither fangs nor sting, he is sure to bo 
the victor. It. is iu this way:—The rattle¬ 
snake (and the gentleman said it was the 
same with all snakes with poison fangs), 
makes a coil and throws himself upon his 
enemy, striking Its fangs into it. These 
fangs, which are two in number, lie back 
against the roof of his mouth when not in 
use, and have a little poison sac at. the root. 
When struck Into any object a drop of poi¬ 
son is poured Vnto these hollow fangs, and a 
tiny stream flows Into the wound. But if 
he fails to reach his object be is unable to 
make another attack until he has again coil¬ 
ed himself. This the king snake knows, and 
while the other is preparing to make a new 
coil, he glides rapidly up to him, wiuds him¬ 
self around the poor fellow, and squeezes 
him to death’! But. there—I have taken up 
so much space that 1 must now end the 
“ snaky ” part of my letter, by telling about 
anot her snake who, when danger is near, 
makes a hissing noise, which says to her lit¬ 
tle oiigh :— “Come to your mother, right 
away.” The obedient little snakes (an ex¬ 
ample to some little boys and girls I have 
seen) hurry as fast as possible to her, she 
opens her mouth and t hey nil crawl in, and 
away sho wriggles to a place of safety, 
I am glad MinnieS. likes Cousin John¬ 
nie’s letters. As sho is the oldest, she must 
try ami set u good example to her little sis¬ 
ters and be a comfort to her parents, Mar¬ 
tha J. P. has bo many pets it is a pity slm 
could not share them with Anna B. Me:,, 
who has none. I hope Anna will get a prize 
next time for perfect lessons. Lily B. F.’h 
plan of studying an hour a day in vacation 
is an excellent one, and 1 recommend it to 
all scholars. 
- i -— 
Pleasure. —The roses of pleasure seldom 
last long enough to adorn the brow of him 
who plucks them, and they are the only 
roses which do not retain their sweetness 
after they have lost their beauty. 
- ♦♦♦ - 
The most beautiful nature in the world 
is kindness. 
mtx. 
ILLUSTRATED REBUS. No. 19. 
,w 
T 
F. McMasteii. 
ZW Answer in two weeks, when we will pub¬ 
lish the names of those sending us correot an¬ 
swers. 
-- 
HOUSEKEEPER’S ENIGMA.—No. 1. 
I am composed of thirty letters. 
My 1. St, U, hi, 8 is essential in cooking. 
My 9, 29, 2, 15, 11, 12 every housekeeper should 
possess. 
My 1, IT, 32, 23,10, 30, important member of tho 
family. 
My IS, 0, 13,11, 8, 27,12, a kind of cake. 
My 28,13, 19, 3, 31 don’t receive much attention. 
My 3,5,28,25,13,3, troublesome freak of fashion. 
My 30, 7, 20,15 is a weaver’s utensil. 
My whole has been learned since marriage. 
May. 
Answer in two weeks, when we will pub¬ 
lish the names of those sending correct, answers. 
ARITHMETICAL PUZZLE.-No. 1. 
Three-fifths of one-fourth of three-fifths of 
five score, 
One-third of two sixes divided by four. 
One-half of two-thirds, of six more than four 
threes, 
One-fourth of two dozen ami eight, if you please: 
The initials of these when joined, you will spy 
A tiling this very moment under your eye. 
Joseph Schultz. 
Answer In two weeks, with the names of 
those sending correct answers. 
--♦♦♦- 
PUZZLER ANSWERS.—April 27. 
Illustrated Rebus No. 17.—Always dare tc 
do light. 
Biblical Enigma No. 2.—John P. Brady gave 
me a black walnut box of quite a small size. Cor¬ 
rect answers have been received from Mrs. Mary 
Ann Doane, Min Jason Alexander, H. A. Norton. 
Double Acrostic No. 1. —1, Hydra: 2, Um¬ 
bel; 3, Drab; 4, Soda; 5, Oblation; (I, Nectary, 
[ Initials, Hudson, Finals, Albany. 
