SONG. 
O, MOONLIGHT deep and tender, 
A year and more agone, 
Your inist of golden splendor 
Round my betrothal shone ! 
O, elm loaves dark and dewy. 
The very same ye seem. 
Tho low wind trembles through ye, 
Ye murmur In my dream. 
O, river, dim with distance, 
Flow thus forever by. 
A part, of my existence 
Within your heart doth lie ! 
O, stars, ye saw our meeting, 
Two beings and one soul. 
Two hearts so madly beating 
To mingle and bo whole. 
O, happy night, deliver 
Her kisses buck to me, 
Or keep them all, and give her 
A blissful dream of me. 
[J. It. Lowell. 
<®ur feller. 
LOU’S BALLOON, 
I was sitting quietly in my room one morn¬ 
ing, when a note from my old friend, Lou Liv¬ 
ermore, was brought in. I am very fond of 
Lou, as, indeed, all her friends are; though she 
still remains, like Holmes’s aunt,— 
" The sole ungathered rose 
On her ancestral tree.” 
She lives far up in the country, but occasion¬ 
ally comes to Boston on a visit. Her note was 
as follows 
Dear Hkpsy,—H ere lam in the Huh at the 
west end of it: is that the hubbiost part, 1 won¬ 
der? I am coming over to see you on Thursday. 
I meant to go to-dav; but I can’t; I'm all used 
up,—“ clear tuckered out," ns Aunt Polly used 
to say. “ What has done it?” Why, my new 
dress; and such a dress! H will give you Ills to 
sec how my back is hutched up and puffed out. 
I'm a regular balloon; a fashion-plate; a any¬ 
thing that is huge and hideous,—a camel or 
dromedary, for example; only they, poor 
things! were born with humps on their backs, 
and 1 wasn't. “How came 1 so deformed?” 
In an evil hour 1 listened to the voice of the 
tempter, and put myself into the hands of a 
city dressmaker. 
“ She’s very stylish," quoth the tempter. 
Little recked I in my ignorance what that 
meant; and l went to her rooms in sweet, con¬ 
fiding simplicity, bearing In an innocent-look¬ 
ing dress pattern under my arm. J had three 
xoanee.it with Mrs. Cut tit, a most Imposing per¬ 
sonage, of whom I stood in mortal terror; and 
at length emerged, transformed. 1 went in 
slim; I came out stool : ! wont in erect ; 1 
came out humpbacked: I went m plain ; I came 
out bedizened; I went In with forty dollars in my 
purse; I came out with Just enough to pay my 
faro homo on the street-car,—the collapse hav¬ 
ing been transferred from my person to my 
purse with Incredible celerity and ease. 
Verily, fashion “doth make cowards of us 
all;" yea, ami puff-balls also ! I wish 1 had the 
courage to go through the world In a gored 
gown without a pinch or puff or pucker on it; 
but I haven’t: so I am a balloon, that by some 
incomprehensible machinery is raised into 
mountainous ridges. Surmounting these ridges, 
at right angles to my body—if there be a body 
inside t Ids corrugated globe, of which 1 am in 
serious doubt, to say nothing of an immortal 
soul—projects u fan-shaped, be-fringed, be- 
puckcred basque, looking, for all the world, 
like a spread turkey-tail. On the lop of this 
projection a good-sized trunk could be com¬ 
fortably seated : only it might fall in! I wonder 
if a pappooso couldn't be inserted somewhere: 
I do so long to blond the useful with the orna¬ 
mental ! 
Now, Hepsibah, you are a sensible married 
woman, competent to give good advice; and I 
ask you, what am I to do? Go round the world 
in this harlequin guise, or give the whole thing 
a great smash ! I should bo glad to preserve a 
modicum of self-respect; but bow can I, inside 
of a balloon ? 
I shall appear lti full spread on Thursday to 
spend the day. I can’t sit down; but 1 sin nth I 
like the loan of a bed-post and a cord : I might 
go up, you know. Till then, in every llbre of 
my stiffening. 
Yours truly, The Great Expanded. 
I sat laughing over this; when In walked Hes¬ 
ter Gruywood, another old friend. After the 
first salutation, she slowly twirled herself 
round, and sank into a chair exclaiming: 
“ Behold tho woman who dares!" 
Ah! I saw : she, too, had on a new dress. It 
was of silvery-gray silk, made with one skirt, 
without a particle of trimming on it, and u 
sneque just bound with a bias fold of the same. 
Yes, she bad dared. It was really a refreshing 
sight; and she looked perfect ly bewitching in 
the quaker-like costume. But, then, Hester 
Gray wood is such a pretty little creature, she 
can't help looking lovely in any thing; and she 
knows it, so it does not require so great cour¬ 
age in her to dare. Yes, she looked charming. 
Vet, on a second glance, there seemed a kind of 
bareness about lier, as if something were want¬ 
ing. Was t his because 1 had looked so long on 
mountains of frippery that my eye ami taste 
had both become corrupted? Ten years ago 
we all wore such plain, single skirts, and con¬ 
sidered ourselves elegantly dressed: why should 
they look mean and skimpy now? 
I read Lou's note to Hester, and she promised 
to join us at dinner on Thursday. 
“ Extremes should meet,” she said. 
She staid on awhile, and we had a little talk on 
dress, and the bondage fashion imposes; or how 
the taste of the community Is corrupted by the 
overloaded, ungraceful styles in vogue now, 
and on many other things, such as sensible 
women do talk about when they get together. 
“One of the greatest evils of this absurd 
overloading,” said Hester, “is that it so fear¬ 
fully overworks women. Wo hear a great deal 
about the hardships of the poor shirt-makers in 
our cities; and they are to be pitied, I know. 
But them are other women to be pitied too. 
Look, for example, at my neighbor, Mrs.T. She 
is a fair representative of a large class, and not 
an exaggerated case. Her husband is a hard¬ 
working mechanic), who earns a good living, 
and ought to layup something for a wet day; 
but lie can't support a wile and six children in 
luxury, especially as four of them are girls. 
Mrs. T. is an ambitious woman, oud says she 
will have her children 1 decently dressed that 
means fashionably dressed. She can't afford to 
litre her sewing done; so. In addition to all her 
housework, she makes their dresses; and if you 
have seen Gratae, the eldest one, you can Judge 
what that implies.” 
“ She’s a very stylish-looking girl," T said. 
“ Yes; and her mother is very proud of her, 
as is natural. She is just, seventeen; and what 
Avonderful costumes she does bloom out In! 
They arc all afloat with puffs and rutiles, quills 
and trills, till there’s scarce an inch of uu- 
t rim mod space about her. And Clara and Nci- 
licgo by lo school every morning, each Avitli itn- 
other set of l’urbelowed upper skirts and under 
skirts, basques and sacks, while baby Belle 
bless her dear little heart !—is all afloat, too, 
Avitli liny ruffles on her tiny skirt.” 
“Isn’t she a darling?” I cried. 
“ Yes, lovely, with her blue eyes and apple- 
blossom cheeks; but wouldn’t, she be just us 
pretty in a plain white dress with a bit of edging 
round the neck and sleeves, if it were the fash¬ 
ion? And the pretty Grade—is the charm In 
her, her lovely complexion and fine expression, 
or in her furbelows and fringes ?” 
“In her, of course,” I said. “Children and 
young girls arc never so pleasing as when sim¬ 
ply dressed.” 
“ Certainly; and our taste is corrupted when 
avc do not ace this. But there’s poor Mrs. T. 
thinks it’s absolutely necessary to follow the 
last fashion-plate: so she works like a slave 
from morning till night and hcrscwlng-machlnc 
is often going till after midnight. No wonder 
she looks broken doAvn, and has neuralgia and a 
diseased spine, She has done the work of t wo 
women, ami it is the hardest kind of work too. 
Every Inch of all those interminable yards of 
hemming and binding, gathering and fastening, 
passes through her lingers, lo say nothing of 
the contriving and fitting, and basting and rip¬ 
ping. I wonder the woman is alive. 1 don’t 
believe l here is a sewing-woman In the city 
harder Avorked." 
“ But Avhy don’t the daughters help her?” 
“ Those in school haven’t, any time. Grade 
does nil she can ; but with her calls and callers, 
practising and picnicking, croquet!ing and co¬ 
quetting, it would be cruel to expect her to do 
more than make the plainest portion of her 
under-clothcs.” 
“But It’s absurd," I said, “for a mechanic's 
Avii'e to go Into such extravagance.” 
“1 don't know hr a mechanic’s wife can bo 
expected to be more sensible than other wo¬ 
men," said Hester dryly. "A reform must be¬ 
gin somewhere else, i fancy.” 
“ 1 suppose so," I said with a sigh; hut the 
whole subject is full of difficulties.” 
“All of Avhie.h might be overcome if Avotnen 
lmd n spark of independence. Here is a tangi¬ 
ble evil for them to grapple with, noAv that 
they havoAvaked up to a sense of their strength 
and capabilities.” 
“ Yes; they may as well begin a reform here, 
as of llie nation at the ballot-box,” I said, 
laughing. “But bow to do it is the question. 
Is there any standard by which dress can be 
judged and regulated?" 
“Not noAv,” said Hester; “but I believe the 
principles of art, true art, might be applied to 
dress as to other things; that there is an essen¬ 
tial, intrinsic beauty or ugliness in our gar¬ 
ments, entirely irrespective of fashion; in 
other words, that it is one thing to bo well 
dressed, and another to be fashionably dressed.” 
“Yes," I said; “but what is It to be Avell 
dressed ?" 
“T cun tell you what it isn't,” said Hester. 
“ It isn’t to wear a huge protuberance on your 
head nr your hack, which, if you had been 
born Avith it, avouUI have been considered u 
shocking deformity. It isn’t to conceal all the 
lines of the human figure, or to make it one 
mountain of trimming, when trimming should 
always be subservient, adding grace, and de¬ 
fining outlines. And then, too. it must be 
something permanent. J t can’t be tho changing 
thing fashionable dressing is. Art wouldn’t 
make a balloon of ub this month, and a scan¬ 
tily-draped statue the next: she xvouldn't tilt 
us up on heels that agonize our toes, and pitch 
ua down stairs to-day, and to-morrow set us on 
the ground like so mnuy fiat-footed Indians.” 
" That would be comfort," I said. “ If, when 
a dress was made, it Avould stay made, and look 
Avell till it Avas worn out, it. would lessen half 
our labors." 
“ Well, Hepey, I bclieA’e tho good time is com¬ 
ing—the time when avo shall havea higher civili¬ 
zation, and break tho chains fashion fetters us 
with now. Then we shall distinguish between 
true beauty and deformity: and our milliners 
and dressmakers will tie itrlhst.rx, arid riot modistes; 
and, instead of lopping aud stretching us all 
on one iron bed, they Avill study adaptation to 
age, complexion, and character, till avc come 
out of their hands Individual, as Avell as com¬ 
fortable and attractive. When avc think ot it, 
isn’t it st range Iioav It ever came about that we 
let ourselves all be worried into exactly the 
same shaped garments, no matter how different 
wo arc in size and figure?” 
" Very strange and absurd,” I said; and Hes¬ 
ter went away. 
Exact ly at one o'clock on Thursday the Great 
Expanded arrived. She was a good deal puffed 
out truly, aud made ail manner of fun of her¬ 
self. When Hester Graywood came in, wear¬ 
ing her untrimmed gray silk, she made a Ioav 
obeisance. 
“I do thee homage, thou most heroic of avo- 
mankind!” she cried. “I cast myself in the 
dust at thy feet, I envy, I adore thee, thou wo¬ 
man who darcst!” 
Finally Ave got a little quieted; though, na¬ 
turally cnObgh, our thoughts still ran on dress. 
“lam disgusted with myself,” said Lou: “I 
really am. I don’t Avant to be fashionable; I 
couldn't afford it if I did : but my tastes arc all 
plain and siinplo. I consider such an over¬ 
loaded, puffed-out concern as this not only 
ridiculous, but vulgar: yet here ] am wearing 
it; and I lose my self-respect in consequence. 
But. how could 1 help myself? How in the 
world did you manage, Hester, to get a sensible 
dress made?” 
“Just, by my horribly obstinate temper," said 
Hester,laughing. “First I lmd a pitched battle 
with Mrs. Outfit, and came off victorious; then 
I ran the gantlet of her twenty sewing-girls, 
who opened uli their forty eyes in holy horror 
nl the teying on." 
“ I should as soon think of fighting Hercules," 
said Lou. “ There’s no place where I am so thor¬ 
oughly cowed as in dressmakers’ rooms, I don’t 
dare to peep or mutter." 
“Yes;—amiable people like you rather sub¬ 
mit than make a fuss." 
“ But they' ought to make a fuss," said Lou; 
“ it’s Sheer cowardice ill my ease, not amiability. 
Every' lady’s dress should be an expression of 
her oavd individual taste and character: but 
look at us! we are all turned out Just alike, like 
so many ninepins.” 
“ Well, what is to l>e done about it ?” I asked. 
“ Why not form an anti-fashion society," said 
Hester, “and get all sensible women to pledge 
themselves to dress according to their own ideas 
of propriety, without regard to fashion ? ‘ Union 
is strength,’ and organized effort the order of the 
day.” 
“ Capital!” cried Lou:—“ avc’II draft and sign 
a declaration of independence; and you, Hes¬ 
ter, shall put down your name with a great dash, 
John Han cock-like.” 
“I’ll make out the list of grievances,” said I. 
“ Easy' enough to do that," said Lou; 44 worn- 
out mothers, bankrupted fathers, neglected 
babies, disgusted husbands" 
“Hold there!” 1cried. " IIusbarnlsurensfond 
of dress as Avives, so far as my experience goes." 
“Why do they keep up such an everlasting 
fault-finding with our extravagance, then?” 
44 Wall, my dear, men are not always severely 
consistent—they ave eloquent, on that theme, l 
know; but put u plainly-dressed girl mmneskle 
of a man, and a fluttering nicer of millinery'on 
the other, and ten to one no avII) ho em-luinted 
with the latter. John Seymour Is not the only 
victim of ‘pink nod white tyranny.’ " 
“ Then men are in a measure responsible for 
the evil,” said Hester. 
“So 1 tell Tom,” I said. “ Let every man Avho 
approves of simplicity arid economy devote 
hlmseli.to the plainest-dressed girt in the room, 
turning u eohl shoulder on those Avho wear dia¬ 
monds and such like sinful t ilings, and heAvill 
do more to effect u reformation Mian by years 
of preaching. Girls like lo please nice young 
men, and no harm done either, Just ns .voting 
men like to please nice young girls. The in¬ 
fluence is mutual and wholesome. Let young 
men frown ou extraAaigantly-dressed young 
women, and young women scorn all dissipated, 
last young men, and u vital change in manners 
and morals would soon follow.” 
At this point in our discussion | heard Tom’s 
step in tnc hull; arid with him came Prof. 
Downing, an old friend of his, whom he had 
asked to dine wltli us. The professor is a tine- 
looking man, besides being learned, agreeable, 
and a bachelor. Now, Torn and I never make 
matches: but, having had such a good time to¬ 
gether ourselves, we do sometimes wish certain 
of our friends avouIU take a fancy to each 
other: aud the night before we had spoken of 
llie professor and Heater, saying how nice it 
Avas he should happen to be in the city just rhen 
to meet her. 
Moreover, knowing his* refined, almost severe 
taste, and his dislike of nil display, I had all the 
morning inwardly chuckled over Hester’s un¬ 
trimmed dress: it was so exactly'the thing to 
suit his fastidious taste. How lucky it was she 
Avorc it! 
The dinner passed off delightfully. Tom was 
in his most hospitable mood: Lou and Hester 
brilliant; t lie professor gonial; aud, the soups, 
.salmon, and roast Iamb, all being done to a 
turn, the hostess serene. The learned professor 
and the pretty Hester could not have come 
together under more auspicious influences; 
and Tom and I had great complacency iu our 
little plan. 
A few days after, Toro told me ho had been 
drawing the professor out a Little on our guests. 
“And what did lie say of Hester?” I asked 
rly. 
"He said this: ‘Miss Graywood is certainly 
quite pretty: but what a pity it is she doesn’t 
dress better| Your friend. Miss Li\'eruiore, 
sets her a good example there.’ ” 
“ The horrid man 1 and he pretending to have 
classic tastes!” 1 cried. And (will you believe 
it?) Tom and I are now both quite sure that the 
professor, who detests fashion and frippery', 
Avho admires only 44 chaste designs" and 44 classic 
outlines,” ts actually in love with Lou. And 
the balloon did it!—yes, the balloon did It! 
Oh, the consistency or men!—0 Id owl New for 
November. 
THE PUREST PEARL. 
1'KO.Al THE GERMAN. 
Beside the church door, a-weary and tone, 
A blind woman sat on the cold door stone ; 
The wind was bitter, the snow fell fast. 
And a mocking voice In tho fitful blast 
Seemed ever to echo her moaning cry. 
As she begged her aims of the passers-by: 
44 Have pity on me, have pity, I pray; 
My hack is bunt and ray hair is gray." 
The bells were ringing tliu hour of prayer, 
And many good people wero gathered there. 
But covered with furs and mantles warm. 
They hurried past through tho Avintry storm. 
Some were hoping their souls to save. 
And some were thinking ot death and the grave, 
And, alas ! they had no time to heed 
The poor soul asking for charity's meed. 
And some wero blooming with beauty's grace, 
But closely muffled in veils of lace : 
They saw not this sorrosv and heard not the moan 
Of her who sat- on the cold door stone. 
At last ciuuo one of a noble name, 
By the city counted the wealthiest dame. 
And the pearls that o’er her neck were strung 
She proudly there to the beggar flung. 
Then followed n maiden young and fair, 
Adorned with Clusters of golden hair: 
But her dress was thin, and scanty, and worn, 
Not even the beggar seemed more forlorn. 
With a tearful look, and a pitying sigh. 
She Whispered soft, " No Jewels have I— 
But I give you my prayers, good friend ,’' said she, 
44 And surely I know God listens to me.” 
On tho poor white hand, so shrunken and small, 
The blind woman felt a tear-drop fall, 
Then kissed it and said to the weeping girl, 
“ It Is you who have given the purest pearl.” 
--♦♦♦ - 
BIBLE TREES.-THE ALMOND. 
As our knowledge and love for tho gospel in¬ 
creases, so everything connected with the Holy 
Land becomes more pleasing and interesting. 
Its lofty mountains; tho hillsides where ter¬ 
races reached to the very top; the valleys and 
dales; its flowers rich and fragrant, of which 
Christ said that SOLOMON, in all lii8 glory, was 
not arrayed like one of them; its trees, rivers, 
lakes and pools all bav? been, and are, and 
ever will remain during all time, precious ob¬ 
jects of interest to the Christian. To the unbe¬ 
liever, one that does not luvo Christ, there is 
less of this veneration —less of a charm and 
beauty. For it was the Redeemer that made 
this land and all things connected with it sacred. 
Here he walked, talked, worked, Buffered and 
died. Here It was that ho said—“Tho foxes 
have holes, the birds of the air have nests, yet 
the sou of man hath not where to lay his head.” 
It may be that trees still exist Avbere OA'er 1800 
years ago Jesus performed deeds of love and 
merey; under tho shade of which he sought to 
lead wandering hearts from darkness Into the 
marvelous light of the gospel. Therefore, if 
we except, the mountains, there Is nothing that 
touches tho Christian heart with tenderer, 
stronger interest t han the different trees so fre¬ 
quently alluded to in the Bible. 
Suppose you had retired, dear children, some 
cold night last January. All around your home 
the earth was thickly wrapped iu its mantle of 
snow. The trees wore tossing their weird-like 
limbs In the keen frosty air, Avlilch shrieked 
and moaned around the house. On uwakening 
In the morning, all this had changed to a scene 
surprising as it avus pleasing and beautiful. 
Von avc re in the Holy Lund—in Palestine; be¬ 
fore and around you wero leafless Almond 
t rees, coA'ered with white blossoms, which made 
the trees appear almost sjioavj in beauty aud 
purity from the absence of foliage. By the 
Jews it is regarded as a welcome harbinger of 
Spring; their "Winter is passing away, buds and 
flowers are coming, tho voice of the turtle will 
soon be heard in the land. The Almond tree 
greatly resembles the Peach tree in leaves and 
flowers, only It grows a little larger. It blos¬ 
soms in January when other trees aro locked iu 
Winter repose, and in March has fruit, when 
other trees only begin to bud. The covering of 
the Almond Is doAvny and succulent, and in¬ 
closes the hard shell which contains the kernel. 
Its Hebrew name signifies a watcher. It is 
also, from its early blossoming, symbolical of 
promptitude. 
To this there Is an allusion in Jeremiah, chap¬ 
ter 1st, 11th and 13th verses. It is also men¬ 
tioned a long period previous to this, when 
Israel scut his sons the second time Into Egypt 
to obtain food. Among the presents sent to 
Joseph, almonds Avero included. Again they 
are alluded to in Exodus, 26tb chapter, 33d and 
34th verses; then 37th chapter, 19th and 30th 
verses; Numbers, 17th chapter. 8th verse. And 
tho last time in Ecclesiastes, 13th chapter, 5th 
verse. Here the AJrnond rree is most beautiful¬ 
ly compared to the hoary head, ou account of 
its Winter blossoming and the whiteness of its 
flowers. This tree lias always been regarded by 
the Jews Avith reverence, and even to this day 
the modem English Jews, on their great feast 
days, carry a bough of flowering Almond to the 
Synagogue just as the Jews of olden times used 
to present Palm tree branches in the Temple. 
The Almond tree is a native of Asia and North 
Africa, but is now cultivated iu the milder por¬ 
tions of Europe. Mrs. M. L. Bradley. 
