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HELP FOR HOUSEWIVES: 
“A Consummation Devoutly to be Wished.” 
BY A. ZAI.IA. 
/nE day bad been a long and weary one, 
And, when at !aat us tiresome hours were run, 
1 sat me down in twilight calm to rest 
And ponder o'er my troubled life, unblest. 
•• From morn till night," I said, in fretful tone, 
•* Tis endless toil, und thankless inoil, alone : 
*• Nobody cares how many steps I take! 
Nobody thinks my back is like to break! 
Nobody sees that 1 am old and worn ! 
Nobody knows ray heart with grief is torn 1 
’Tis everybody for himself ulono, 
And I must slave till I'm but skin tmd bone.” 
Tims speaking to myself in sad dismay, 
My weary frame upon the couch 1 lay, 
And o'er my wretched lot I dropped a tear,— 
When, suddenly, my heart stood st ill with fear! 
For, looking round, 1 saw a marvelous change 
On things linear; the very walls looked strange. 
“ Why, what is this? " I cried, In great amaze; 
" The house la mine; and yet where’re I gaze 
Not one familiar Object do I see ! 
I’m sore distressed ! What can the meaning bo ? ” 
As if In answer to my rmery, there 
Appeared a sprightly dame, who asked me where 
I wished to go. “ Sit down and rest awhile. 
You’ve lost your way,” she said, with friendly smile. 
And shoved an easy chair. Confused, 1 turned 
Me round, and said—my cheeks to crimson burned— 
“ There, must, be somn mistake : I thought, till now, 
This house was mine,”—she made a stately bow, 
Hu’ muttered to herself “The woman's nuid ! ’’ 
Then, quick regaining her Composure, bade 
Me follow tier ; slie’d show me her domain 
And noon convince mo I must be insane 
To think Hie house could e'ro belong to me! 
Then turned about, with quiet dignity. 
And to the kitchen, quick, she led the way. 
“ You mu sit excuse the room, tis washing day 
With ns," she said. I gave a hasty glance. 
Then started with surprise, to see advance 
A something, half-way t wixt a brush and broom, 
That, without aid, begun to sweep the room 1 
My hostess answered, now, my questioning look. 
Into licr hand the queer machine she took : 
•“ This sweeper Is, l fancy, new to you.” 
Thereat she turned it round, and showed to view 
A tiny door within the handle. “ See,” 
She said, “ we wind it. with this little key. 
“ We set Hie works for any hour we please. 
And, at the stated time, with perfect ease, 
Our good machine comes out and sweeps the floor.” 
I sighed, and said, within myself, "No more 
Would arms grow lame, and fe.oblo backs give out, 
If in each house this sweeper walked about.” 
“ We've all the last Improvements.” then she said, 
1 Here Is our wash-room.” As I turned my head, 
She opened wide a door, and, just within, 
I saw a large and Intricate machine. 
And, as I looked, by sonic strange power unseen, 
The clothing went in soiled but —enmeout clean ! 
Nor was this nil, for—wonderful to tell— [well. 
I saw the clothes were starched, nnd smoothed as 
Then, tmri iig to my friendly guide, I spoke 
" Housework must almost seem to you a Jukel 
Pray toll me, now, how is your cooking done? 
And washing dishes-do you make that lun?” 
“ Wo have our meals brought to us from the shop, 
By ordering what tve wish each day ; but, stop- 
lit take you to the diiilng-hall." Site led 
The way into an airy room, and said, 
“ You "-co this little railroad all about? 
That ear, by steam-power, travels in and out, 
' Through passages hnilt underground, and brings 
Whatc'er wo please to order .if good things; 
And when the meal 1» done, it takes away 
The dishes, arul nur orders for next day.” 
" A fortune must have purchased such release?” 
Site shook her head—“Alt no, the good Chinese 
“ Invented this, and glad they are to work; 
1 never knew a single one to shirk ! 
They ask a modest sum to lay the track; 
The cost of meals i« small, and ne’er a lack 
Of wcll-coolted food that one delights to eat; 
I UU you Chinese folk cannot be beat! ” 
I listened to my hostess, with a strong 
Conviction; then 1 made remark, " ’l'is wrong 
For folks to talk against them as they do. 
I d thankful be tor such good service, too ! ” [see 
" You’ve seemed so pleased,” she cried, “I’ll let you 
The best of all—my pleasant nursery.” 
It was the cheeriest room I'd seen, as yet; 
Its bright tidoriiituf* 1 shall ne'er forget; ’ 
But, as we closed the door, an infant’s cry 
Bid meet my oar; a hasty voice, close by,— 
I thought its tones familiar—loudly said, 
\\ ife! wife 1 It’s time the children were in bed ! 
You’ve been asleep un hour or more. I tried 
I o keep the babies still, but Gkouche cried, 
And all attempts to bush him wore in vain • 
Se do wake up! there’s all the milk to strain 
Tis ever thus ; things are not what they seem : 
’’ e ro au H> to wake and And It all a dream ! 
-—- 
A SERPENT THAT CHARMS TO DE¬ 
STROY. 
BY MAY MAPLE. 
Tiif.re is o certaiii species of reptile found 
iu all parts of the known world ; ils Lome 
is not so much in tlie jungles and wilder- 
nesses, as <*ne might suppose. This serpent 
frequents the haunts of men, showing by 
this that it is of a sociable character; cities, 
villages, and the sparsely populated neigh¬ 
borhood, each and all claim its attention. 
Its form is often so beautiful that it becomes 
a household pet; it is flattered and caressed 
as much as the most honored guest. It is 
fouud among the first circles of society, daz¬ 
zling all with its brilliant mask, and alluring 
with ns specious wiles the most unwary* the 
fairest Jorum, the purest characters are 
c losen to satisfy iiacravfng and demoralized 
appetite. While it seeks out the homes of 
the honored and refined, and glides into the 
ieai t s of the most confiding, it is not the 
east partial in ns choice of associates, for 
the haunts of the vicious are not unfa, 
fluently visited by this wily serpent 
It certainly does “hiss” l ong aml j oud 
but never until after it lu>s struck its poison¬ 
ous fangs to the most vital part. The very 
best physicians have failed to find an anti¬ 
dote for its venomous bite. Unlike other 
poisonous reptiles, it does not produce im¬ 
mediate death ; but the victim lingers along, 
it may lie for years, frequently suffering the 
most excruciating torture One is never free 
from the fear of receiving another attack 
from some unknown quarter. Although 
these serpents are very numerous, and con¬ 
stantly venting their spite upon some one, 
yet they may be in one’s own dwelling for 
years and not be recognized. 
They have often been known to sting 
their best friends; even the bands that feed 
them are no ways exempt. For thousands 
of years this species of serpent has been 
nurtured and cherished with almost un¬ 
bounded admiration; but its affections are 
not bound to any one, and no la\v9 of the 
hind are strong enough to free us from this 
terrible scourge. It is frequently bought and 
sold at enormous rates. No matter how 
much people desire to rid themselves of this 
nuisance, it is constantly near, in some one 
of its many forms. It causes more tears, 
more heartaches, more bloodshed, than any 
other living creature It delights in wars and 
rumors of war ; and, though the thought is 
a sad one, we shall never be free from its 
poisonous effects, because people will not 
apply the simple medicine found in the 
“Golden Rule” thoroughly, in all its length 
and breadth. 
Would you see this serpent in its worst 
forms? Visit the knots of men that are 
gathered on the street corners ; on the tav¬ 
ern steps ; at the store or post office. It is 
always there. If you wish to behold it iu 
its elegance and beauty, go to the sewing 
circle, to the afternoon tea-party, to the 
evening social, and see what a smooth, soft 
voice it has, to attract attention. Ah ! did 
you not notice that Sharp, forked longue as 
it, uttered that last beautifully phrased sen¬ 
tence, that closed abruptly with, “ but-1 
was going to tell something, but V gues9 I’ll 
wait until another time,” 
The name of this serpent—this honored, 
but dishonorable guest—is Blander. 
-- 
LEARNING- LITE’S LESSONS. 
Whoever lias any observation or experi¬ 
ence in the matter must have noticed what a 
tedious operation learning to read almost al¬ 
ways is, and were it not for the pliant mind 
of the child, it would be far more so. The 
brightest and easiest taught children will 
draw their words, make pauses where there 
are none, and blunder in various ways be¬ 
fore they acquire the ability to repeat the 
words they have learned to form a sentence 
which has an intelligent, meaning to them. 
Much persevering plodding is required after 
that, before they can get the meaning of the 
story contained in one short page. 
Is not this true of (lie best of us in learn¬ 
ing to read the stern lessons of life? Are we 
not all dull scholars when we come to inter¬ 
pret the meaning of the hard discipline of 
sorrow and care which falls to the lot of even 
the most favored ? Do we not learn slowly, 
and often through great tribulation, the sol¬ 
emn teachings of life? And how many fail 
to catch it at all, to whom each day, and 
week, and year, of their lives mean no more 
than the disconnected words of the blunder¬ 
ing scholar mean to him. 
Happy are they who comprehend the true 
meaning of the chapter of life. b. c. d. 
Elkhorn, Wig., 1871. 
--- — 
UNHAPPY MARRIAGES, 
1 he universal expectation of married peo¬ 
ple :s that their married lives will always 
be happy ones. Deluded dreamers ! They 
imagine that they arc different from other 
people, and that when they enter the portal 
of matrimony, love, peace and prosperity 
will ever be their attendants. Such ones 
bad better by far consider themselves the 
same as others, blit form iron resolutions to 
do differently from other married people- 
resolutions that will keep them from the 
dangerous coasts on which so many have 
been wrecked and ruined. Unhappy mar- 
rigges depend upon many causes. Previous 
to marriage, many try to appear more intel¬ 
lectual, more amiable, or more accommo¬ 
dating than they really are. Depend upon 
it, that love brought into existence by a 
moonlight stroll, strengthened by deceit and 
fashionable displays, and finally consum¬ 
mated till otigk the influence of intriguing 
filends, will fade in after life almost as fast 
as the flowers which compose the bridal 
w reath.— Selected. 
-♦-»--♦-—— 
The world cannot advance much, cannot 
make real, substantial progress, till people 
learn to devote fewer hours of the day, 
lower days in the week, fewer weeks in the 
year, and fewer years of their lives, to the 
mere art of money getting. 
■-- - 
Lk aluaj’s kind and true, spurn every sort 
of affection or disguise. Have the courage 
to confess your ignorance and awkwardness. 
Confide your faults and follies to but few. 
3foi* Doting IJcouIc. 
DASH AND THE RABBIT. 
Dasii went regularly to church; no sore 
throat, or headache kept him at home. At 
first he used to steal along quite at a distance 
from Dr. IIarte’s family, of which lie was a 
member; but after a time, so conscious was 
deeds are not required of you, but little acts 
of patience, kindness and forbearance. 
Do not consider anything trivial which 
tends to make home pleasant and beautiful. 
Much can be done in the way of ornamen¬ 
tation with common things, if one only has 
taste and ingenuity—ami they arc both fac¬ 
ulties which can be cultivated, by I he way. 
For instance, old crinoline skirls, which we 
could neither burn, nor bury, nor drown, 
and therefore voted nuisances, are now made 
Cp 
aobatlj ijrabiitg. 
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DASTJ rtELENTS, -A.JSTD SPARES TIUNOV. 
he of right intuition, that be held up his 
head, and with a solemn face, walked straight 
up the middle aisle; and there, at the end of 
the aisle, he look his station Whether lie . 
understood wlmt was said or | rot, it is vefr 
certain he listened attentively. 
But one week-day it was, that Dash was 
trotting along the road by himself—for he 
was not allowed to go Into the school-house 
with .Terry and Willie IIarte; so Dash 
trotted along with no special business on 
band, when wlmt should lie see but a little 
white rabbit silting by a bush, and enjoying 
the pleasant sunshine. Dash set out at once 
directly toward him, and the poor little crea¬ 
ture, when it saw him coming, with his great 
red tongue hanging out of his mouth, was 
so frightened it almost died. But it turned 
and ran just, as fast as it could go, though its 
heart was beating so hard it almost burst. 
On it ran, fast—fast—and DAsn after it; nnd 
now, just as the poor little tiling was ready 
to drop, it-vvasso tired and frightened, Dash 
caught it, and put his great paw upon its 
throat. 
Poor rabbit, with such a soft pretty fur 
coat!—but oh, how it trembled, for it knew 
that that great fierce dog would bite his 
sharp teeth right into its throat. 
Dash waited a moment, and the little rab¬ 
bit looked up very piteously—perhaps it said 
something—for we all know that animals do 
not only useful but ornamental. Bed A fas¬ 
tens them to a stake driven into the ground, 
and trains morning-glories, sweet peas and 
other climbing vines over them, making a 
pyramid of sweetness and bloom. 
Lks has a very handsome basket made of 
the same material. The covering is removed 
from the steel with a sharp knife. The sides 
are composed of figure eight-shaped pieces, 
tied a little below the middle to give them 
the requisite slant The hot tom consists of 
small rings tied tightly together. The 
basket is painted black, and gilt paper 
pasted over the joints. It should be lined 
with bright colored silk or cambric, and tied 
between the loops at the top With ribbon of 
a corresponding hue. 
Ella’s paper-holder can he improved by 
making the basket ova), instead of square. 
In this case the bottom must be finished on 
each side with a heavi-shaped piece, formed 
by doubling '.lit: figure eight, and tying the 
loops together at the side. Some are fin¬ 
ished at top and bottom with hearts and 
circles, which are very pretty. 
Crene lias comb cases made in the same 
style, but. smaller; also a letter-case formed 
of heart-shaped pieces. 
The hanging baskets to which E. E. Rex- 
ford refers in a late Rural, are pretty made 
of the same. Twelve pieces are required- 
eight for the sides and four for the bottom. 
understand one another, aqcl have a way of We do not remove the covering from the 
talking together, though'we cannot under- steel, since they arc stronger without, 
stand them. It seems to be the fashion to give recipes 
But Dash stood still, panting—the great for cake—something in the style in which 
red tongue hanging out of his mouth all the wo used to give “ Sentiments” at school— 
lime; possibly lie was thinking of what he and I will add mine for French Cream Cake, 
heard iu church, or it may be be reraemberd which is fully equal to the tar-famed Boston 
the time when he was a little puppy, and 
was once chased by a very savage dog, who 
would surely’have killed him, if Jerry 
IIarte had not beaten him off. I don’t 
know how it was, but Dash looked at the 
poor little rabbit a minute or two—and then 
Cream Fulls, und is much more easily made: 
Cream .—Boat together one teacup of su¬ 
gar, three eggs, and one pint, of milk. Boil 
till thick; then add a piece of butter as large 
as an egg, and vanilla or lemon for flavoring. 
Cake .—Three eggs, one cup of sugar, one 
lie lifted up his paw, and Bunny rail off to and a-half of flour, and one teaspoon fill of 
the woods as hist as he could go, to tell his baking powder. Add two tablespoon fills of 
friends what a narrow escape he had had. cold water. Put in two tins, (round,) and 
m. t. s. bake in a quick oven. Split the cake while 
•-- warm, and spread with the cream. 
A LETTER TO THE GIRLS. Try it, und you will pronounce it de- 
„ - licious. Cousin Barbie, 
Dear Gnir.s of the Rural:— We older -♦♦♦-- 
people are watching with interest your efforts “ Mamma,” said a little girl to her mother, 
to improve and help each other, and I hope “do you know how I get to bed quick?” 
we shall not be considered intruders, if we “ No, was the reply.” “ Well,” said she, in 
venture to drop a word of encouragement great glee, “I step one foot over the crib, 
and advice. then say, ‘rats’ and frighten myself right in.” 
Do you remember Margaret Fuller’s A little Boston girl assured lier mother 
motto? —“The only object in life is to the other day that, she had found out where 
(/row.” I wish all soldiers in the Rural’s they made horses—“she hud seen a man 
army would make it theirs. Whatever you just finishing one of them, lor he was nail- 
aim to be you will be; and the more you ing on his lost foot.” 
achieve in this life, the better you will be A little boy, returning from Sabbath 
piepaied foi that which is to come. I won- school, said to his mother, “this cat-e-chism 
dci it you realize how much it lies in your is too hard. Ain’t there any kitty-chism for 
power to make your homes happy, Great little boys?” 
THE PUREST PEARL, 
Beside tin- church door, u-weary and lono, 
A blind woman sat on the cnlil door-stone; 
The wind was bitter, tho snow fell rust, 
And a inocUinq voice In the fitful blast 
Seemed ever to echo her moauiiiK cry, 
As she bot&cd her ulin.% of tho passers by; 
” Have pity on me, have pit y, 1 pray: 
My buck Is bent and my lmir is urny.” 
Tho bolls were ringing the hour of prayer. 
And many good people warn uni tiered there; 
IJut covered wllh furs and mantles warm, 
They hurried past through the wintry storm. 
Some were hoping their souls to save. 
Amt some were Drinking df death and the grave. 
And, aliiH ! they hud no time to heed 
The poor soul asking for charity's meed; 
And some wove blooming with bounty's grace, 
But closely muttied in veils of lace; 
They saw not the sorrow, nor heard the moan 
Of her who sat on tho cold door-stone, 
At last came one of a noble name, 
By the city counted the wealthiest dame, 
And tho pearls that o’er her neck were strung, 
Hite proudly there to the beggar tiling. 
Then followed a maiden young ami-fair, 
Adorned with clusters of golden hair; 
I*” 1 lier dress was thin, and scanty, and worn. 
Not oven the. beggar’* seemed more forlorn. 
With u tearful look anti n pitying sigh, 
She whispered soft, ” No jewels have I, 
Hut l give you my prayers, good friend,” said she, 
" And sure i know God listens to uie.” 
<>n the poor white hand, so shrunken nnd small, 
The blind woman felt a tear-drop tall, 
liien kissed it and said to tin; weeping girl, 
“ 11 l s you who have given the purest pearl.” 
- *■*■•*• - 
DEAD, YET LIVING. 
The cedar is the most useful when dead. 
It, is tho most productive when its place 
knows it, no more. There is no timber like 
it.. Firm in the grain, and capable of the 
finest polish, the tooth of no insect will touch 
it, and Time himself can hardly destroy it. 
Diffusing a perpetual fragrance through I he 
chambers which it. ceils, the worm will not 
corrode the book which it protects, nor the 
moth corrupt the garment which it guards ; 
all but. immortal itself, it transfuses its ama¬ 
ranthine qualities to the objects around it. 
Every Christian is nsefiil in his life, but the 
goodly cedars are the most useful afterward. 
Luther is dead, but tile Reformation lives. 
Knox, Melville and Henderson are dead, but 
Scotland still retains a Sabbath and a Chris¬ 
tian peasantry, a Bible in every house, and a 
school in every parish. Banyan is dead, but 
his bright spirit still walks the earth in its 
“Pilgrim’s Progress." Baxter is dead, but 
souls are quickened by the “Saint’s Rest.” 
Cowper is dead, but the “golden apples” 
are still as fresh as when newly gathered in 
the “silver basket" of the Gluey Hymns, 
Elmt is dead, but the missionary enterprise 
is young. Henry Martyn is dead, but who 
can count the apostolic spirits who, phoenix¬ 
like, have started from the funeral -pile? 
Howard is dead, but modern philanthropy 
is only commencing ils career. Ruikes is 
dead, but the Sabbath Schools go on.— Itev, 
F. Hamilton. 
- 
THOUGHTS BY THINKERS. 
A clergyman was once endeavoring to 
get a subscription in aid of some charitable 
institution, out of a close-fisted parishioner, 
who attempted to excuse himself, on tlie 
ground that lie already owed a great deal of 
money. “ But," said the minister, “ you owe 
God a larger debt than yon do any one else.” 
“ That is so, parson ; but then he ain’t push¬ 
ing me like the balance of my creditors.” 
Andrew Fr.ETCHER of Balloun immortal¬ 
ized his name with two utterances. He it 
was who first said, “ Give me the making of 
a nation’s songs, and l care not who makes 
its laws.” And when it was proposed to him 
to take the oath of allegiance to the British 
Government, the Scottish patriot, who never 
accepted the union of the two kingdoms, re¬ 
sponded, “ 1 would die to serve my country, 
but 1 would not do an ignoble action to 
save it.” 
All death in nature Is birth, and in death 
appears visibly the advancement of life. 
There is no killing principle in nature, for 
nature throughout is life; it is not death 
that kills, but the higher life, which, con¬ 
cealed behind the other, begins to develop 
itself. Death and birth are but the struggle 
of life with itself to attain a higher form.— 
Fichte, 
Ministers need not, fear that their voca¬ 
tion is losing ground in a material or unbe¬ 
lieving age. They have only to magnify 
their office in the highest sense by being 
more worthy of it, and it will now, as of old, 
prove to be the wisdom of God and the power 
of God unto the salvation of men. 
A king and some noblemen were once go¬ 
ing out for an early morning’s ride. Wait¬ 
ing a few moments for Lord Dartmouth, one 
of the party rebuked him for his tardiness. 
“ I have learned to wait upon the King of 
kings before 1 wait upon my earthly sov¬ 
ereign,” was the calm reply. 
It is a sad thing when Christians borrow 
spectacles to behold their weak brethren’s 
weaknesses, and refuse looking-glasses 
wherein they may see their weak brethr m’s 
graces, ' j. 
