tabus' fjrrrl-jlolio. 
& ©> 
DOLLY SULLIVAN. 
“ on! n weeding ring’s pretty to wear, 
AnJ a hride of all women is fair j 
But then. 
There's no trusting in men, 
And, if I were u girl, I’d of lovers beware. 
They may court you to-day. 
Sweet us birds In the May, 
But to-morrow, look out! they’ll be all flown away!” 
Old Dolly SuUlvan shook her gray head— 
Lovers were now the last thing she need dread. 
But you never can tell 
Who lm« once been a belle: 
••Sweethearts! I’ve had ’em ; Iknow’em!” she said. 
•• just as long as your company’s new, 
There’s no urie that’s equal to you; 
You then 
Can have choice of the men; 
: Tis the block eyes to-day and to-morrow the blue. 
X had once a brocade 
F ,rmy marriage-gown made; 
On tlio shelf of the store-room my wedding-cake 
laid; 
Never that cake on the table was set. 
Here l oin, Dorothy Sullivan yeti 
Let it got let It got 
I am glad it was so ; 
llardiy earned lessons you're slow to forget. 
“Could I keep all to-day that I know. 
With Die face that 1 had long ago, 
All, then, 
I would pay back the men! 
They should get a small part of the debt that I owe! 
For 'tin little earn they, 
Spile tlie lino ihings they say. 
Ho.v a woman’s heart aches if they have their own 
way. 
Promises ! little they keep men in awe! 
Trust 'em ! I'd sooner trust snow in a thaw! 
They are misy to make, 
And more easy to break: 
Keeping 'em 'a something that never I saw ! 
*• When you cotne to your own wedding-morn, 
Just to tied you’re a maid left forlorn. 
All, then. 
Where’s your faith in tire men. 
When your wedding-gown’s on and your bridegroom 
Is gone? 
You tau-t take oh that gown. 
And sit quietly down, 
Cast aside, thrown away, to be talk for the town." 
Old Dolly Sullivan shook her gray head :— 
•• Children mice burnt of the flro have a dread ; 
Let your love-stories be. 
When you’re talking to me ; 
Sweethearts ! I’ve had ’em ! I know ’em !” she said. 
[Scribner's Monthly. 
WEARING THE HAIR. 
A i.ady whom we know to possess sense 
and hi.-,to sends us the following article, (ori¬ 
gin unknown, or we would credit,) with the 
remark that it is good enough to appear in 
this department of the Rural New-Yurk- 
kk,— mill so believing we present and com¬ 
mend the dissertation on an always timely 
feminine topic to the wives, sisters ami 
daughters of our parish of readers: 
There is no more puzzling question to the 
majority of ladies Ilian this:—IIow to turn 
to account the finest ornament that nature 
has given—the hair? Few remember that 
our best, models—indeed, the only studies 
that can he termed model *—are the antique 
busts and statues. There the ideal of out¬ 
line is preserved; there the great rule with¬ 
out which there is no beauty is preserved—the 
law of proportion. 
Let no lady suppose that she can err 
against those laws without wronging what¬ 
ever beauty she may possess. There was a 
time when huge bands of hair flared out at 
each side of the head, giving a spread-eagle 
expression that was anything but becoming. 
Then enormous braids at each side of the 
face followed. Each of these styles was 
equally an error, but one that held sway for 
years. 
English gil ls had at one time a mania for 
profuse masses of curls sweeping the face, 
and almost obliterating the profile, which, 
under these circumstances, it was impossi¬ 
ble to study. That mode lias passed by, 
and, however great the profusion of hair 
sweeping down her buck, the English girl 
will no longer suffer her cheeks to be hidden 
by what are Called by the French anglaises. 
Remember that nothing is more beautiful 
than the line from the ear to the tip of the 
chin in an oval face. Art teaches how to 
produce the effect of an oval, even where that 
shape does not exist. The French actors 
and actresses do everything to lengthen the 
lace, understanding, through artistic instinct 
as well as study, the importance of length. 
Never allow the hair to encroach upon 
the eyebrows. Let the tip of the eyebrow, 
as well as its arch, be seen. The rules for 
wearing Hair on the forehead in curls or 
waves are not so arbitrary now as statuary 
tnakes them, and it must be admitted that 
some faces the fall of wavelets, tiny curls, 
or even the row of short hair, cut to one 
length, which has lately been introduced by 
a t vorite actress, is singularly becoming. 
Tim American type of beauty is so perfect 
in symmetry of feature, as well as delicacy 
of coloring, that it can he outraged in mat- 
teisof dress with more impunity than can 
the beauty of other countries. It seems as 
though our women and young girls would 
•"ok pretty in spite of everything that had 
taste can invent. 
hew more unbecoming fashions have ever 
J(: ' :U evented lor wearing the hair than that 
•’'bid, now prevails, but will, it is probable, 
( m ure but a short time longer. I allude to 
iL * huge chute lame braids. This is not be¬ 
cause the style is in itself defective. Look 
at the pictures of the chatelaines of the olden 
time, the wives of feudal lords, from whom 
the mode takes its name. Nothing can be 
prettier than these pictures, and with some 
features great nobility of expression is im¬ 
parted. But the present is a caricature of 
that by-gone mode. It. exaggerates the mass 
in the nape of the neck , leaving the bead 
comparatively flat at the sides and on the 
top. Some faces are absolutely repulsive 
with this coiffure. 
Study the Greek models. Observe the 
head of the Clytie. Study the Minerva. 
Look at the hair of the Venus of Milo. 
Then observe bow in the old pictures, and 
especially those of Raphael and of Mi¬ 
chael Angelo, the law of proportion is 
respected. Never do the features appear 
distorted by exaggeration in the mass of hair. 
Gentlemen have the good taste, when 
having the hair dressed, to remember the 
Apollo, and, above all, the Antinous. They 
never madden as to their hair, and the fash¬ 
ion of the heard is a question of nationality. 
Much will be gained to the aesthetic eye if 
the rules I recall are respected. Never allow 
the head to look big ; never allow a mass on the 
nape of the neck; never encroach upon the eye¬ 
brows. 
In sitting for a photograph or likeness in 
crayon or oils, remember these rules. There 
is still another, equally important. Never 
flatten the hair upon the skin of the forehead with 
water or bandoline. At sight of this hideous 
abuse of the hair, an artist is tempted to 
howl. Either conib it up and back over 
rolls, not too large, or wave it, or, as I have 
suggested, make It into tiny curls. 
Avoid, if very tall, wearing the hair too 
high ; avoid, if short, any bigness about the 
head or neck. Study the Aukigonal, study 
Gerome’s female heads; contemplate the 
Faust pictures by Ary Scheffer, and em¬ 
ulate the braids of Margaret. Above all 
things, proportion. 
ROMANTIC) RESULT OF A STARE. 
Tnn Greenfield (Ohio) correspondence of 
the Chillicot.be Register gives the following 
incident—“A beautiful and wealthy young 
lady at a social party took offense at what 
shesupposed to be the impertinent gaze of a 
gentleman present, who was a stranger to 
her but a friend of the lady of the house. 
The young lady demanded his expulsion as 
a condition of her remaining. Explanations 
ensued. The gentleman was not looking at 
her, “ though beautiful enough to attract and 
fasten the attention of any one,” He was 
looking at a fine and costly chain that en¬ 
circled the fair one’s neck—just such a one 
:is 1m had purchased for his sister—in one of 
the links of which (having ft secret opening) 
he had put his photograph ; Init some months 
since, and before lie had an opportunity to 
present it to his sister, it was stolen from 
him. Upon examining ihe lady’s chain lie 
touched the spring (to the little beauty un¬ 
known) and behold! t here was his photo¬ 
graph. 1 leave you to judge of the confus¬ 
ion of the fair one. She immediately offered 
to return the piece of jewelry, which was 
politely declined for the time, and it is said 
by knowing ones that she lias concluded to 
accept of the young man’s hand and heart, in 
order that, being t he possessor of the one, she 
may he permitted to retain the other. It is 
but justice to remark that the young lady 
bought the chain of a traveling peddler, who 
had stopped at her father’s house, for about 
one-half of its original cost.” 
LITERATURE vs. HOUSEWORK. 
Says a contemporary, in speaking of a new 
book on household matters by a well known 
authoress, “It inspires us with the greatest 
respect for the housewifery of a literary lady.” 
It is truly refreshing to know that some¬ 
thing has at last inspired somebody with a 
respect for the housewifery of a “literary 
lady.” For a score of years literary women, 
with ft versatility and adaptiveness really 
wonderful, have written stories uiul mended 
stockings, compounded poetry and pastry, 
played the maternal to some unappreciative 
man’s babies, and the mentor to the public, 
all at tlie same time. 
I'll cases where a literary husband lias been 
added to the trials of those devoted “females ” 
they have been obliged to make Herculean 
efforts for bis comfort, going almost to the 
point of committing infanticide for the sake 
of insuring quiet in his sanctum. They have 
known all the receipts for colic, and have 
been posted as to the best method with the 
measles; they have made their own clothes 
and a part of their husbands’. Friends (?) 
have partaken of their graceful hospitality; 
yet after all everybody seems to believe that 
literary women are a set of hopeless incom¬ 
petents. So difficult is it to eradicate a preju¬ 
dice, in competition with which proof has no 
chance whatever !—Christian Union. 
I/ove's It cbi l I ion. 
No, I will live alone and pour my pain 
With passion into music, where it turns 
To what is best within uiy better self. 
X will not take for husband one who deems 
The thing my soul acknowledges as good— 
The thing I hold worth striving, suffering for, 
To be a thing dispensed with easily, 
Or else the idol of a mind iuflrm. 
CE> 
or Uoitng })coplc. 
after all. Anyway, it isn't fair, little girls 
and little hoys, to condemn in this wholesale 
manner without seeking an explanation, and 
giving our supposed enemy a chance to 
THE MUSIC LESSON; 
OR, “ CHILDREN SPEAK THE TRUTH.” 
She came—the music teacher came 
To hear her pupil's lesson,— 
And Wili.ib, with l\is picture-book. 
Sat in the room to listen. 
Of music he was very fond. 
But not of such itult practice; 
If that’s the way to learn to play, 
He’s sure ho pities “ poor sis." 
He grows indignant while she stays, 
Then to another room goes, 
And finding there his mother dear. 
To her the question does propose 
“ Why does that lady come hero, pray V 
I'm sure too long she lingers— 
She takes the- music from Kale's heart , 
And then blames her poor flayers!” 
Kenosha Co., Wis.. 1871. A. 
OUT OF SCHOOL. 
Probvrx.y nine-tenths of all our young 
readers are now enjoying the delights of va¬ 
cation. Wading In shallow brooks; fishing 
in quiet, shady nooks, where the speckled 
trout love to hide away from the heat; fol¬ 
lowing the mowers through the fragrant, 
fields; watching the reapers in the* rustling 
wheat; gathering flowers and berries; filling 
pockets and a proud with the early harvest 
apples; driving home Ihe cows at evening; 
and lying broad awake on moonsliiny nights 
to listen to the whippoorwill on the garden 
wall. Ah! we older children can only re¬ 
member the many charms of vacation. There 
are no more such limes for ns, because, go 
where we will, do what we may, our work 
and mir cares follow us, 
I missed your times, yesterday, when I 
went through the street to the office,and did 
not sec the crowds of children marching 
along with hooks and slates; but I smiled, as 
l thought to myself, “ It is vacation now, 
and the children have gone into theGOillltry, 
or are having ihe best limes they can at 
home.” The city parks are alive with them, 
playing all sorls of noisy, rollicking games, 
and rushing about as if they never heard of 
thermometers, or lying in happy abandon¬ 
ment on the grass under the trees, us if they 
never heard of ague and rheumatism, as 
heaven grunt they never may. 
But how about the children who get no 
Vacations?—to whom, summer and winter, 
Ihe year is one long workday? Perhaps you 
hardly knew there were any such; but 1 
meet them on the street every day—children 
who work in all sorts fi mils and shops and 
factories, ragpickers, a- 1 bootblacks, and 
little peddlers, though the gypsy life of these I 
outdoor workers makes up somewhat for 
the lack of vacations. You could hardly 
guess how many there are of these in all our 
great cities — children whose daily bread 
comes from their daily toil, and to w horn va¬ 
cation would mean, not rest and play, Imt 
starvation. You little people who groan 
over your six hours in ihe bright school¬ 
room, with books and pictures and merry 
faces all around you, and now and then a 
run in the open air, what do you think of 
children nine, eighl, yes, only seven years 
old, who work ten hours of every day in 
dark, foul smelling tobacco factories. And 
yet, in New York eily, a great many of these 
little workers go to the evening schools, and 
try to study with their tired eyes, so eager 
are they to learn. Their teachers tell us they 
go to sleep over their hooks, and one can 
hardly wonder at it. Don’t you wish you 
and I could do something to help them to a 
vacation ?—Little Corporal. 
•- *--*■-* - 
THE GAME OF GOSSIP. 
This is an old game, children; one we 
played years ago; but there is a lesson to 
be learned from it, even if it is old ; and we 
hope that while it may afford you amuse¬ 
ment, you may also learn the lesson it 
teaches. A number of little folks—say fif¬ 
teen or twenty—sit around the room in a 
circle. Then the leader—whoever in the 
circle may be appointed—whispers very rap¬ 
idly a complete sentence—not too long or 
loo short—to her right hand neighbor. The 
sentence whispered so rapidly is not likely 
to he clearly enunciated, or fully understood 
by her listener, but the latter must use her 
own imagination and make sense out of it, 
and then whisper it to the next one, and so 
on to the last one, who whispers it to the 
author of the sentence, who rises and re¬ 
peals aloud the original remark, and the 
way it has been returned to her after its 
wandering. The two sentences are. general¬ 
ly entirely different. 
Gossip is a good name for the game, isn’t 
it, children? Sometimes we hear tilings 
that somebody else has said about us; we 
do not ask for an explanation, but we stop 
liking that person; we stop sharing our 
pleasures with her; we give frowns for 
smiles, etc., etc. When you hear such re¬ 
marks, remember this little game of Gossip, 
and recall how easy it is for remarks to get 
twisted and changed, and that perhaps your 
little friend said something good about you 
right himself if he can. 
GOOD MANNERS. 
Young folks should he mannerly. How 
to be so is the question. Many a good girl 
and boy feel that they can’t behave to suit 
themselves in the presence of company. 
They feel timid, bashful and self-distrustful 
the moment llicy are addressed by a stranger 
or appear in company. There is hut. one 
way to get over this feeling and acquire easy 
and graceful manners; that is, to do the 
best they can all the time at koine, as well 
as abroad. Good manners are not learned 
by arbitrary teaching so much as acquired 
by habit. They grow upon 11 s by use. We 
must be courteous, agreeable, civil, kind, gen¬ 
tlemanly and womanly at home, ami then it 
will become a kind of second nature to he 
so everywhere. A coarse, rough manner at 
home begets a hit of roughness which we 
cannot lay off if wo try when we go among 
strangers. The most agreeable people we 
have ever known in company are those who 
arc perfectly agreeable at home. Home is 
the school for all good things, especially for 
good manners. 
-- 
THE WAY TO SUCCEED. 
Fortune, success, fame, position are 
never gained, hut by piously, determinedly, 
bravely sticking, living to a thing till it is 
fairly accomplished. In short, you must 
carry a thing through if you want to he 
anybody or anything. No matter if it does 
cost you the pleasure, the society, the thou¬ 
sand pearly gratifications of life. No matter 
for these. Stick to the thing and carry it 
through. Believe you were made for the 
matter, and that no one else can do it. Put 
forth your whole energies. Be awake, elec¬ 
trify yourself; go forth to the task. Only 
once learn to carry a thing through in all its 
completeness and proportion, and you will 
become a hero. You Avill think holler of 
yourself; others will think better of you. 
The world in its very heart admires the 
stern, determined doer. It sees in him its 
best sight, its brightest object, its richest 
treasure. Drive right along, then, in what¬ 
ever you undertake. Consider yourself am¬ 
ply sufficient for the deed. You’ll bo suc¬ 
cessful. 
-- 
BUILDING CHARACTER. 
There is a structure which everybody is 
building, young and old, each one for him¬ 
self. It is called character, and in every act 
of life is a stone. If day by day wo he care¬ 
ful to build our lives with pure, noble, up¬ 
right deeds, at the end will stand a fair tem¬ 
ple, honored by God and man. But, as one 
leak will sink a skip, and one flaw break a 
chain, so one menu, dishonorable, untruth¬ 
ful act or word will forever leave its impress 
and work its influence on our character. 
Then let the several deeds unite to form a 
day, and one by one I lie days grow into 
noble years, and the years, as they slowly 
pass, will raise at last a beautiful edifice, en¬ 
during forever to our praise, 
-»-*•♦- 
“WHAT SHALL THAT BOY DO!” 
Who will tell the hoy who reads this, 
what he will do? When he becomes a man 
will he do many Ihings? Will he read and 
so be intelligent V Will he write, and so he 
useful and healthful in speech, ready in com¬ 
munication and of strong influence? Say 
my boy, what are you going to do? What 
you like to do now, you will he likely to do 
by-and-by. Do you swear now ? Do you 
cheat, deceive, lie, steal? Do you do dis¬ 
honorable things ? Arc you disrespectful to, 
or do you disobey your parents and teachers?” 
Remember the boy makes the man. If 
the boy is had the man will be. Fix it in 
your mind which you will he. 
•--- 
WORK AND WIN. 
Boys, read and heed what Alexander 
Hamilton once said to an intimate friend: 
“Men give me credit for genius. All the 
genius 1 have lies just in this:—When Ilmve 
a subject in hand I study it profoundly; clay 
and night it is before mo ; 1 explore it in all 
its hearings; my mind becomes pervaded 
with it. Then the, efforts which I make the 
people are pleased to call the fruit of genius. 
It is the fruit of labor and thought.” 
-- 
Children’s Scrap Books —It is well t.o 
save childish pictures and wood cuts of va¬ 
rious kinds, (many of which give children an 
excellent idea of places,)and paste them into 
an old ledger or copy book. They help pass 
away many a childish hour, and are at once 
innocent and instructive. With the help of 
questions from their elders, they aid children 
to think. 
- 
Be praised not for your ancestors, but 
QO 
a b ball) G caking. 
RECOMPENSE. 
BY ANNIE JENNIE. 
Witat tho’ through nil tlio summer clay 
My low, sick couch I keep,— 
Many a gladsome, sunny ray 
Down through my casements creep; 
And when from pain I’m weary quite, 
With mute, cnrrosglve touch. 
They 1 uni my gamiunts gold mid white, 
And comfort me so much. 
And often, gluing III the sky, 
It makes my soul shout free, 
To hear the birds that circling by 
Will puuso to sing to me,— 
They never sing a pluintivo lay 
But With a happy trill— 
'• Praise Goo ! Praise Gon ! Wo all obey, 
And lovu to do Ills will!” 
Sometimes the woods I roamed of yore 
Will nod and beck to me, 
To mind me of their tlow’ry store 
I so much long to see. 
But When the green, with fresh, swoet smell, 
Scents all the balmy air, 
Zephyrs that bring Ibeir fragrance, toll 
How swuot it is to bear! 
What If I cannot pluck tlio flowers? 
Kind hands will cull forme 
And breathe their sweets in woody bowers 
Where nature’s temples bo. 
Upon each leaf sueli thoughtful care 
Doth leave its impress free, 
An uddeef charm -an odor rare, 
Ot love’s sweet ministry. 
And thus the while some joys I lose, 
Some dearer ones I gain, 
In finding that true pleasure proves 
A foe to aches or pul 11 ; 
True happiness no other aid 
Will need, hut simple love; 
And though our walks are darkly laid, 
Tlio sun still shines above. 
And recompense I yet will tind. 
No matter where 1 be, 
If cheerfully 1 boar in mind 
That Uutl takes care of me. 
BEREAVED, BUT CONSOLED. 
We laid the turf above the waxen form 
of our darling, hiding the laughing eyes and 
bright golden head from the gaze of our 
longing eyes. Never more will she gladden 
our 1 1 earls with her joyous, winning ways; 
nor at eveniiile, wiili hands meekly folded 
and innocent eyes raised heavenward, lisp 
her evening prayer at our khee, 1 hen sink 
to the sweet, deep sleep of childhood. For 
she resls in the last long sleep “ that knows 
no wakening.” The grave closed over 
her. The home, once glad mid happy, is 
sad and silent now. I listened in vain for 
ihe bird-like voice and the tinkle of tiny 
fool-falls, till it seemed my itching heart 
must burst wilh its grief. 
Night came, mul darkness fell like a pall 
over the dreary earth. 1 wished the sun 
might never rise again, so heavy was my 
sorrow. And I said, “ My burden is greater 
than I can bear.” I slept; and never while 
life remains shall l forget the scenes revealed 
to my spirit. Isu\v“ the great While Throne 
and Him Unit sat thereon.” The pure river 
of life flowed by, and heavenly music rav¬ 
ished my senses. Far below I beheld from 
the waves of Death’s cold river my lost one 
emerge,borne by bright angels to the Savior’s 
feet. Her face shone with tho glory and 
radiance of heaven as she knelt at Jesus’ 
feet, a ransomed one. I heard my Redeemer 
say,“ Como hither, little lamb; the world 
was too dark and drear a homo for thee.” 
Then the whole company of angels struck 
their harps and sung praises to God. I 
awoke and knew my loved one was not lost 
—only “ gone before.” I took up my bur¬ 
den of life, trusting my lamb with the great 
Shepherd—waiting my Master’s time. 
Who shall say that angels minister not to 
our spirits when darkness is over all! 
H. E. R. 
- +-+-*■ - 
THOUGHTS FOR THINKERS. 
Guilt, though it may attain temporal 
splendor, can never confer real happiness. 
The evil consequences of crimes long sur¬ 
vive their commission, and, like the ghosts 
of the murdered, forever haunt the steps of 
the malefactor. The paths of virtue, though 
very seldom those of worldly greatness, are 
always those of pleasantness and peace.— 
Sir Walter Scott. 
Truf. religion is not a routine of ceremo¬ 
nies, nor yet the essence of any special creed. 
The religious sentiment is inherent in every 
nation of the humtul race. It gives a beauty 
of its own to all the external forms of crea¬ 
tion, and everything that is true and noble in 
man’s soul springs from its source. 
There is no funeral so sad to follow its 
the funeral of our own youth, which we 
have been pampering with fond desires, am¬ 
bitious hopes, and all tho brighl berries that 
hang in poisonous clusters over the path of 
life. 
Three-fourths of the difficulties and 
miseries of men come from the fact, that 
most want wealth without earning it, fame 
without deserving it, popularity without 
temperance, respect without virtue, and linp- 
J piness without holiness. 
