think It Is a very nice one. I am very well 
acquainted with Cousin Johnnie ; she la my 
Sunday School teacher; she always la so kind 
and explains my lessons so nicely. She lives in 
the samo village that I do, so I see her almost 
every day. I should think tho game called 
“ Twenty Questions,’' of which Cousin Johnnie 
has ,)ust been telling us in tho last paper, must 
be a very interesting one; 1 would like very 
much to learn how to play It. Last Winter wo 
had several parties at Cousin Johnnies, and 
we had some this Winter, and all of us who 
were there enjoyed ourselves greatly. We 
played ever so many different kinds of games, 
and had music and dancing, and wo were all 
loth to part, because wo had such a nice time. 
We have had any quantity of mow hero this 
Winter, and wo have had real merry times going 
sleigh-riding. I havo taken up space enough 
this time so I will close, wishing good times to 
all my little friends. Your friend, 
Mattuwan, N. J. Maooie 6 . 
spread; they are all soaked up and reddened, 
and after a period of excessive hard work they 
cease to be pretty, and her husband knows it. 
She may dress herself neatly when her task is 
done, and have on her face that pleasant look 
which the consciousness of a hard job complet¬ 
ed tends to give; but she is tired, worn and 
Jaded. She cannot be bright, JoyouB and vi¬ 
vacious; and, unless 6 he has an uncommon 
amount of spirit and independence, a few years 
of this round of work drags her down to what, 
her husband, in thought, comes to regard as— 
the old woman. 
“There are so many things that she can do to 
save expense. House-cleaning and papering, 
and stove blacking, and whitewashingevon, and 
all the sewing, of course, that, she can hardly 
bring the week’s work within the week, seldom 
finding time for those artistic arrangements of 
dress and hair which all admire, whatever they 
may say; and her husband, unconsciously per¬ 
haps, draws contrasts between her and the 
lively, sprightly beings he meets here and there, 
who are not worn down with work and care be¬ 
cause they have mothers to look out for them; 
while, alas! In too many rases, the wife of the 
farmer lias no one to look out fof her. 
“ It vexes one to hear women, as a class, talked 
to as though they did nothing. Does a woman 
who rears a family of children do nothing? The 
wide country Is covered with farmers’ homes. 
Some of the wives are strong and hearty, able to 
walk under their burdens; nevertheless, it 
would be fearful to count up the farmers' wives 
who are lit orally worked to death. Home, who 
have no ambition beyond the round of house¬ 
work, may live and thrive; but the ilriely organ¬ 
ized woman, who inis delicate tastes and In¬ 
herent strivings aftor better things, must look 
to herself, or she will wear rapidly under the 
the farming regime. Why is this so with farm¬ 
ing more than with other businesses? 
“ But tho saddest, part is tile matter-of-course 
way in which the husband views It all. It Is a 
matter of course that his wife should do all she 
can; that, she should be delicate and sensitive 
and tired out all tbo time; that she should be 
constantly at work, never finding l ime for re¬ 
creation. A matter of course that she should 
grow weaker and weaker; less and Ipss efficient 
and should ffinally leave him free again. It is 
not often that the husband of the woman who 
has worked herself to death is guilty of repin¬ 
ing long for her loss. ‘The great march of 
events ’ must go right on, and a fresh helpmeet 
is soon installed. The children—ah, well! to bo 
sure in all the wide world they eau have but one 
mother. 
“But now to this day's work. T must hurry 
to get It done before I am too tired.” 
Tho fire was burning nicely now. Mrs. Faum 
| had boon thinking and talking whilo warming 
her lingers and lacing her shoes, so there had 
been no time wasted. Ilor journal at night 
will show whether she finished her day’s work 
without getting too tired. Persie Veue. 
THE SAND MAN 
LOVE’S LIFE 
Two little boots I've ou my feet, 
With little solos so soft and neat; 
With a little sack on my back I skip. 
Anti, hush now! op ^ho Steps I trip; 
And when I enter tho chamber, there 
Tho children are saying their evening prayer. 
Two little grains of my very line sand 
1 tling In their eyes with my gentle hand; 
Then they go to sleep, and they sleep all night, 
Safe in the watchful Father's sight. 
Two little grain? of toy very fine sand 
I strew lu their eyes with my gentle hand, 
And very short tin; night shall seem 
To the good little child In his happy dream. 
Now sweetly, softly, with staff and sack, 
Down stairs again I must hurry back I 
1 cannot. Idle ray tlino away, 
I’ve many more oliildren to see to-day; 
They’re nodding now; in their dreams they smile, 
And yet I’ve scarce opened my bag tho while. 
From the German. 
Did you ever hury a love, my dear. 
And put it out of sight, 
In the stillness of the night. 
As something dead, and forever gone,— 
Something dead which you might not mourn 
Something you were above, my dear?— 
Something you were above? 
And then has It ever passed, my dear, 
From out of its narrow town— 
From out of surrounding gloom, 
And glided along to your soul once more? 
With never a sound has It loosed the door 
You barred and bolted fast, ray dear,— 
Barrud and bolted fast ? 
T burled a love one night, my dear.— 
Burled it down below, 
One night, long years ago,— 
And covered It up with the sod. 
And over lt3 ashes I trod 
Till all was firm and tight, my dear— 
TUI all was firm and tight. 
And then I left it alone, roy dear! 
What use to guard a spot 
Where life and hope were not? 
But. graves where love is laid away 
Must e’en bo guarded night and day; 
And hearts must bo their stone, my dear,— 
Hearts must be their stone. 
But I left the old for the new. my dear,— 
Turned away from my dead. 
With weary, silent tread. 
Of what avail ? There has followed me 
lu all my Journeys, o’er land and sea. 
The ghost of my love for you, my dear,— 
Tho ghost of my love for you. 
And we have met again, my dear! 
You crossed my weary wny. 
For the first time since—to-day. 
Your 3mile grew sad as It met my eye. 
And mine grow wistful—do you know why 1 
That both had suffered, was plain, my dear, 
That both had suffered was plain. 
Upon my heart Is your head, my dear, 
And o’er tho troubled past 
Fall rest and peace at lust. 
And us for tho love that I burled below, 
In silent sorrow, long years ago, 
I hardly think It was dead, my dear,— 
Hardly think It was dead. 
A NEW GAME-BLOWING COTTON 
“ Bi-Owtno Cotton ’’ Is a sitting-room gmr.o of 
the jolliest sort. Let aa many as may, be seated 
around the table, with hands folded and arms 
extended along the edge of the table, each tier- 
son touching elbows with his neighbor on each 
side of him. Take a small piece of common 
cotton batting, picked up so as to bo made as 
light, and airy as possible. Put this in the cen¬ 
ter of the table. Let some one count “ one, 
two, three," and then let each one blow best to 
keep the cotton away from himself, and drive 
it upon some one else. No one must take up 
his arm to escape the cotton. When It alights, 
take if up and start anew. It will be a very 
sober set Indeed, who can play two or three 
rounds, without Indulging In the healthiest sort 
of uproarious laughter. 
A CHICKEN’S STORY 
The first recollection I have of myself. I was 
shut up in a little dark prison house. I didn’t 
like it, and I peeked very hard at the walls, and 
somehow, I hardly know./iwt how, I, by-and-by, 
found myself free. I soon discovered that, 1 was 
a very queer little fellow, with two nice legs, and 
two really elegant, little wings. I had a very 
sharp little bill, too, and such cunning little 
feathers all over mo. That was ail I made out 
distinctly, though I nearly broke my nock and 
quite, lost my balance trying to see what was on 
the top of my head. I didn't find out; never 
have seen it, in fact, but I know there’s some¬ 
thing there. 
I had five little brothers and sisters, and such 
a nice, warm mother. I do wish you wore ac¬ 
quainted with my mother; I am sure you would 
say you had never seen such a oozy little mother 
as she is. Two of my brothers were black, and 
one was white. I had a little yellow sister, and 
a speckled one and I am sure I don’t know 
wlrat color I was; but my mother called mo 
“Top-knot.” How wo used to run around in 
the nice dirt, and under the leaves and bushes 1 
And didn't our mother scratch for us? How 
she would find, the worms and bugs, and the 
little seeds for us I When she called, “Come 
quick, come quick," how we would all scamper! 
Jot was a greedy little fcUow, and got more thau 
his share; but, our mother was an Industrious 
old hen, and none of us went hungry. 
Every night she cuddled us under her dear, 
warm wings, and wo wasn’t at nil afraid. But 
it was only a fence Corner where wo slept, and 
one night, a rat, or a something dreadful, and I 
do know what, ctimo and most frightened us 
into spasms. He actually did carry off my little 
screaming brother Jet, though ray poor mother 
lost every one of her tall feathers in our defense. 
I just wish that old rat or something had all his 
tail feathers pulled out 1 But Jot was a most 
awful greedy chicken! Mother said wo must, 
sloop in the hen-house after that. T am now a 
very fine chicken—can scratch for myself pretty 
well, and lu many ways muko rnyseif useful to 
the family; but I shall never forget that dread¬ 
ful night! Tof-knot. 
ILLUSTRATED REBUS.—No. 6 
MRS. FARM TALKS TO HERSELF 
“Tata Is very near savage life, very,” Mrs. 
FARM said, aloud, to herself, between two puffs 
at the obstinate lire. ” When will I learn to 
look out for myself ? It is just aa mother used 
to tell me, exactly.” Mrs. FARM wus thinking 
now, fussing with the fire meanwhile, putting 
tho half-burnt silvers togothcr, and herding up 
tho dim coals; but It. would not burn. So she 
took an old pan and ran out Into tho shed, half- 
drossed as she was, to pick up chips. The shed 
wasopen, and the Winterwlnd made her shiver. 
It Is strange how much one can think over in a 
brief space. She saw, while hastily scratching 
up tho chips, u picture of herself, away back in 
the old home, making the lire one cold Winter 
morning, wbilo hor mother’s voice from the 
ourtained bod at the other end of the room was 
saying, “Why don't you lio abod till some of 
tho men folks make the lire? I see this Is the 
way you will always do." 
Then she had answered, In perfect trust, “No 
indeed 1 If ever I'm married and have a house 
of my own, the morning (ires will go unmade all 
day If they wait for me to make them.” “How 
is it now ? ” (She wont on putting her chips on 
the hie.) “ Thoro arc two fires to make this 
morning, and t, alas! am making them both, 
while ho is In bed. Why haven't I common 
sense enough to know that most men will take 
what eaae they can get? Oh) why am r not 
wiser? I am not tit to do such rough work, and 
vet 1 keep on doing It bocauso nobody does it 
for me; and I have about, come to the con¬ 
clusion that I ?hall be allowed to do It as long as 
I can. These are hard thoughts, but I can't help 
them. I shall keep them to myself, certainly. 
I should bo extremely mortified to have these 
things known. I can only tell It all over to my¬ 
self to free my mind. 
“ If wives did not come so easily, these fann¬ 
ing men would be more careful of those they 
have. I wlBh I could legislate on this subject 
for them. ’Ah!’ they say, exultlngly, ’ 'Ms 
hard, surely, to find a hired girl; but If you say 
“ wife," & dozen women aro ready to bind them¬ 
selves unconditionally.' Oh! I can't help con¬ 
fessing to myself, with bitterness, that there is 
truth In what my mother used to tell me—’If 
you work yourself .to death, you'll never get 
“ thank you ” for it.’ I feel, ju3t how, like lay¬ 
ing this down as an axiom: — Tho harder a wife 
work 3 the less her husband loves her. 
“And why should he not love her less? To 
be suro it may be to save expense, and to make 
himself and the children more comfortable, 
that she overtaxes and burdens herself. She 
may rise early on Monday morning, make fires, 
get breakfast, and have her wash water over, 
before her husband la ready to get up—do It all 
under a silent protest, too, because It must be 
done; and it Is so much better to havo all the 
mussing and cleaning out of the way early, for 
the comfort of the family, and to give time for 
the sewing and knitting. But, In making fires, 
she blackens and burns her hands, may be, and 
in washing, the skin is rubbed off and the joints 
M 
Answer In two weeks. 
A FACTORY GIRL’S FORTUNE 
BIOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA.—No. 1 
Sauaii But.ii.lon, a factory girl of New Hamp¬ 
shire, has had a fairy history. In a newspaper 
she accidentally saw the name of a Mr. Bmi.- 
lon of Natchitoches, who had taken part 111 
some public demonstration. The name being 
quite uncommon, Sabah wrote a modest letter 
of inquiry, giving hor own genealogy, and sug¬ 
gesting that there might be some relationship. 
In a fortnight came an answer, cheerfully writ¬ 
ten, In which a distant relationship, was demon¬ 
strated. Tho Southerner added that he was old, 
without family, and had few friends, and earn¬ 
estly hoped forncontinuatlon of the correspond¬ 
ence. Agreed to, and kept up for throe years; 
but her last letter remained unanswered for 
three months, when came a message from Mr. 
Butu. lon’s lawyer, informing her that ihe dour 
old man had left, her his whole property, 
amounting to over $400,000. Sarah, by-the-way, 
Just before receiving the news, had married a 
young man of her own rank, and now they have 
gone down to Natchitoches to look after their 
assets. 
1 am composed of 65 letters: 
My 16,13, 2, 5,13, 25, 10, 4, I t, 34, 22. 3, 10, 44, 42, 10, 
41,6,14,32,50 was a celebrated English poet. 
My I, 53, 50,26, 20. 58,10, 68 ,1?, 41, 65, 05, 01, 12, 79, 
68 Is a famous minister lu Now Yorlt. 
My 84,21.31,15, 84, 84, 56,87.14,47, 6 . 7, 68 , 49, 5, 
17,10 is an American novelist. 
My 9, 29,33, 33, 9, 85, H, 36 is noted for her lively 
sketches. 
My 78,55, 37,24, 18, 60 was a Persian Queen. 
My 37, 67, 61, 11, 55, 23, 85. 37 was an Athenian 
Philosopher. 
My 73, 68 ,39, 45, 27 was one of the nominees for 
President. 
My 37, 29, 68 , 39, 28, 37, 78, 57, 57, 67, 45, 37 was an 
English actress. 
My 21, 77,64,31, 44, 50 was an English poet. 
My 21, 22 , 74, 38, 35 , 37, 38, 74, 71, 68 , 84 was a dis¬ 
tinguished Irish poet. 
My 52, 74,68.89. 61, 79, 70, 63, 42, 42, 06, 36 was an 
editor iu New York City. 
My 68,67,37, 55, 41, 74, 45, 50, 42, 47, 68 is a French 
artist. 
My 55, 06, 77, 61, 13, 61, 55, 5, 66 ,49 was an Ameri¬ 
can poetess. 
My 60, 66 , 6-4, 64, 46, 58, 72, 45, 45 was a favorite of 
King Charles the Second. 
My 48, 74, 48, 79 was an English poet. 
My 5,4, 11, 42, 68 , 51, 41,47,68, 56, 37 was a Scotch 
poet. 
My 62, 74, 38, 79, 68 was a Grecian poet. 
My 63, 58,65, 65, 69 was a mombor of the Tara- 
tq^ny Ring. 
My 70. 64, 07, 88 ,55, 37, 71, 74. 74, 75 was the author 
of The Song of the Shirt. 
My 81. 65, 68 , 66 , 78, 79, 80, 41, 65, 65, 01, 83, 65, 5, 87, 
82, 74, 58, 25 Is an American authoress. 
My whole is a Bible command. 
X-kf" Answer in two weeks. Mary Waldo. 
TO THE BOYS 
Some time before planting time comes, next 
Spring, make arrangements with your father to 
lot you have a small plot of ground somewhere 
near the house, so that you can run to it quickly 
whenever you have a few spare moments. Early 
in the Spring spade your plat thoroughly 13 or 18 
Inches deep, adding a good quantity of well 
rotted manure, mixing It well with the soil as 
tho spading proceeds. Use a spade-fork to do 
the work, as it Is far ahead of tho old-fashioned 
steel spade, which some persons still continue 
to use, despite its awkward and bungling man¬ 
ner of doing its work, when compared with a 
good spade-fork. 
Decide beforehand what varieties of vege¬ 
tables you Intend growing, arid buy your seeds, 
so that when ihe time of planting arrives you 
will not have to wait two or throe weeks for 
your seeds to come. Plant, according to the di¬ 
rections given in the catalogue.-; of seed mer¬ 
chants or some good work on gardening which 
your father may havo. After your seeds have 
come up am i made some growth, thin the plants 
out carefully ami keep every weed hoed out 
during tho whole season. Don’t let a weed be 
seen In your garden from the time you plant 
your seeds till you gather your crop in the Fall. 
Plant in straight rows and far enough apart to 
give you plenty of room to work. If you want 
“big " vegetables, you must give thorn room to 
grow. If you follow these directions, next Fall 
you will be likely to get the first premium at 
your county Fair lor the best, or rather largest, 
dozen of beets, carrots, onions, parsnips, etc., if 
you choose to exhibit them. Boys, try it. 
Ransom, Pa. p. 8 . 
HOW RUSSIAN GIRLS GET HUSBANDS. 
In the Ukraine (Russia) the women court more 
generally than the nieo. When a young woman 
falls in love with a man she is not in tho least 
ashamed to go to his fathor's house and reveal 
her passion In the most tender and pathetic 
manner, and to promise t,he most submissive 
obedience If be will accept her as a wife. Should 
the insensible man pretend any exuc-e. she tolls 
him she Is resolved never to go out of tho house 
tillho gives his consent.,and accordingly,taking 
up her lodgings, remains there. If he still ob¬ 
stinately refuses her, his case becomes exceed¬ 
ingly distressing. Tho church is commonly ou 
her side, and to turn her out would provoke her 
kindred to revenge her honor, so that he has no 
method left butto betake himself to flight till 
he is otherwise disposed of. 
ARITHMETICAL PUZZLE-No. I 
TRUE MODESTY. 
Express exactly one hundred with four figure 
nines. V. 
Answer in two weeks. 
Nothino la more amiable than true modesty 
and nothing more contemptible than that which 
is false; the one guards virtue, the other betrays 
it. True modesty is ashamed to do anything 
that is repugnant to right reason; false modes! y 
is ashamed to do anything that is opposite to 
the humor of those with whom the party con¬ 
verses. True modesty avoids everything that is 
criminal; false modesty everything that la un¬ 
fashionable. The latter la only a general, unde 
termined Instinct; the former is that instinct 
limited and circumscribed by the rules of pru¬ 
dence. 
PUZZLER ANSWERS-Feb. 1 
A LETTER TO YOUNG RURALISTS 
Illustrated Rebcs No. 4.—Never faint nor 
falter. 
Anagram No. 2.—A word fitly spoken is like 
apples of gold in pictures of silver. 
Puzzle No. 4.—Civil. 
My Dear Little Friends:—I have just be¬ 
gun this year to take the Rural .New-Yorker, 
and I am very' much pleased with it, and that is 
why I am writing this letter to you. I have just 
been reading Cousin Johnnie’s letter, and I 
