- m'wMIUSSIISUi 
many years. It is still the workingman’s 
time, ami is likely so to remain tor centuries, 
as it appears to be Nature’s own lime. Fash¬ 
ion may make laws as she will, and call 
meals by various names; but at mid day 
most persons feel the necessity of taking food. 
In 1700 the diuner hour had shifted to two 
o’clock ; at that time Addison dined during 
the last thirty years of his life, and Pope 
through the whole of his. Very great 
people dined at four as early as 1740, and 
Pope complains of Lady Suffolk’s dining at 
good crops had prepared us to expect an off 
year of cereals. Neither drouths nor heavy 
rains have afflicted the mass of our farmers. 
They have escaped the ravages of both de¬ 
structive iusects and worms, and continue to 
realize remunerative prices for their pro¬ 
ducts. One or two great local calamities 
have occurred, like the burning of Chicago, 
hut the country, as a whole, as is shown by 
the insurance statistics, lias suffered very 
much less from the fire fiend than during 
many previous years. 
experiment of Democracy must prove a 
failure, have taken fresh hope. “ We have 
nearly reached the limit of the reaction,” 
wrote Lowell, in his “ Study Windows,” 
“ from the old notion which paid too much 
regard to birth and station as qualifications 
for office, and have touched the extreme 
point in the opposite direction, putting the 
highest human functions up at auction 
to be bid for by any creature capable of go¬ 
ing upright on two legs.” Even while the 
Cambridge poet wrote, the back reaction 
THANKSGIVING, 
MAKING LOYE BY PROXY, 
What happy, joyous scenes would meet 
our gaze could we, on Thanksgiving day, 
look in upon the eighty thousand homes 
which the Rural New-Yorker regularly 
visits! What merry, ringing laughs would 
reach our ears from the old family hoards 
surrounded by the various 
groups composing the 
great Rural family! |L 
Looking on with pencil 
and scroll in hand, what 
numberless studies of do- j 
mestic delight we might j 
obtain for future use 1 JLa I 
But the Home Circle is Mil it 
too sacred to have its pri- ||||fl| / \ 
vacy invaded upon such 1 
re-union occasions by j) 7 
other than kindred and rmT* 4-t 
personal friends. T h e 
bond of sympathy ever ^ 
existing between writer 
and reader will not even / 
warrant such an mint- 
sion, so we must content ,i\i 1 
ourselves with visiting till X 
BY W. WADE WOODSON. 
Soon after his accession to the throne of 
England the young king, Edgar, began to 
look about, for a partner 
to share his heart and 
throne. There was, of 
course, no little excite- 
j .'jui I ment and rivalry among 
1 | . the high-born ladies 
I ijmjvj ; || who thronged the 
court, and every art 
was brought into requi- 
sition to captivate the 
c ^ c U1U ' w * n ^ ie * lCait 
the youthful sover- 
cign. In vain, kow- 
A ever * lliesc 1() veiy 
i/m hhd ambitious aspirants 
cC- ' 8ct their 0,1 ps.” ,IS wo 
'J fay now-a-dnys. The 
}vk ' monarch seemed to bear 
If ft) l \l a charmed heart, and 
tifflr ouc one they had 
abandoned the pursuit 
and leveled tho bat- 
. : teries of their charms 
■-- ' against more vulnerable 
breasts. A. few of those 
_ - - who possessed superior 
attractions, h 0 t h of 
beauty and rank, deem- 
jn. ing a crown worth any 
p&y. ’ amount of perseverance 
^ -- ami labor, and scorning 
meaner alliance, did not 
- 1 y c *t despair of success; 
. but they too were doom- 
Ir ed to realize the bitter 
“ lOYC’s 
YiliilliilllU 
Jim .."mu m experience 
■ Reports of the match¬ 
less beauty of Elfrida 
began now to be circu¬ 
lated about Ihe court, 
and ere long reached 
the ears of the king. 
This lady was the 
daughter of the power¬ 
ful and wealthy earl of 
Devonshire and in addi¬ 
tion to her high rank 
and great wealt h, ns the 
sole offspring of Ihe po¬ 
tent eat], she had gained 
the Star of Devonshire. 
I * The castle of the 
FnT ^ CJ3Y, great earl was constant- 
, Jy thronged with young 
^ nobles, eacli striving to 
t ingratiate himself with 
os proud au4 omt)l^ous 
t^ioin bl^aaplrlog to licr 
Etiielwald, and order- 
“ When you are ready 
to set out,” continued 
the king, ** return here, and I will then ac¬ 
quaint you with the nature of the business 
which I wish you to transact for me.” 
Etiielwald left Edgar’s presence, his 
curiosity greatly excited as to the service 
that he would be required to perform. Or¬ 
dering bis squire to have his troop ready for 
an immediate departure from London, he 
soon returned to the palace and announced 
that he was prepared to set off at once. 
“ Etiielwald,” said the monarch, “ you 
have doubtless heard the reports in circula¬ 
tion about the lovely Elfrida, for her praises 
are in every one’s mouth. Now, I wish to 
find out if she is in reality the paragon of 
loveliness she is represented to be. I know 
of no one on whose judgment I would sooner 
rely in such matters than yourself, and 
hence I have determined to send you on this 
delicate mission.” 
Etiielwald did not much relish the idea 
of absenting himself from the gay circles of 
the court, particularly on what he consid¬ 
ered a fool’s errand, so he answered, “ I 
doubt not, my liege, but that the charms of 
Pestilence has not stalked among us. The 
Angel of Death who lias brooded over entire 
cities and localities beyond the sea, leaving 
his impress on almost every door post, has 
so far, passed us by, and we have hopes that 
the dreaded epidemic may yet be averted. 
War—next to pestilence the direst woe—lias 
not cursed us. Wc have been at peace with 
ourselves and our neighbors. While grim 
visaged Mars lias led countless thousands 
of other lands into the shock of battle and 
spread ruin and desolation over their fair 
homes, we have beaten back our swords into 
plowshares and sat with a feeling of peace 
and security under our vine and fig tree. 
But die greatest, perhaps, of all the bless- 
iugs for which we should thank the Omnip¬ 
otent is the political awakening which the 
nation has experienced. The ulcers which 
were eating at the very vitals of the Repub¬ 
lic have been rooted out. Those who feared 
that our people would continue to be too 
much engrossed in money getting to look af¬ 
ter their Government, and that this last best 
that late hour; but, in 1751, we find the 
Duchess of Somerset’s hour was three. This, 
however, only shows that slightly different 
dinner hours were prevalent at the same 
period ; and we know that when the Duchess 
of Gordon asked Pitt to dine with her at 
seven his excuse was that he was engaged to 
sup with the Bishop of Winchester at that 
hour. In 17.90 the poet Cowper speaks of 
four ns Hie t hen fashionable time ; and about 
1804-’5 an alteration took place at Oxford, 
by which those colleges that dined at three 
began to dineat four, and those which dined 
at four postponed their time to five. After 
the battle of Waterloo, six o’clock was pro¬ 
moted to the honor of being the dinner hour. 
Now, we have got on to eight and nine. The 
epigram tells us: 
“ The gentleman who dines the latest 
Is In our street esteemed the greatest; 
Rut surely greater than them all 
Is he who never dines at all.” 
— Appleton's Journal. 
had commenced; and now, in less than a 
year’s time, the people have grandly risen 
to the rescue of their institutions, irrespect¬ 
ive of party, and, breaking through the 
‘‘sacred enclosure of respectability,” men 
who scorned office before have grasped the 
people’s gifts from foul, unclean hands, and, 
unfurling the standards of Reform, planted 
themselves in ihe breach. This is a sublime 
spectacle, reassuring the hearts of our coun¬ 
try’s well wishers, and calling for especial 
joy and thanksgiving when we commemor¬ 
ate the blessings which the year has vouch¬ 
safed us all. 
THE ENGLISH DINNER HOUR. 
In England, the court dinner hour re¬ 
mained ut eleven o’clock from the reign of 
Edward JV. to that of Henry VII , but the 
middle and lower classes dined at nine or 
ten The fashionable hour in Henry VIII.’s 
reign came to he twelve, when Sir Thomas 
Moore dined, and it remained fixed therefor 
a twelvemonth ago thought themselves 
bankrupt, now look forward to a bright fu¬ 
ture. The labors of the husbandmen have 
been crowned with rich harvests, notwith¬ 
standing the many uninterrupted seasons of 
Tile public school property of Boston is 
valued at six millions of dollars. 
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