REMEMBER. 
BY A. O. G. 
Where Is the white rose dear to me. 
And the Jasmine's snowy spray? 
The Uly pure ns angel's wing 
Who sings by the “ River of Light ” to-day? 
The moeletng-bird has sung " good-by;" 
The dove Is sheltered far away; 
Thore’s nothing left but sullen green 
And barren oaks with moss so gray. 
The wind-sprites wall and shriek 
Like Grief made frantic with despair: 
They tear the fragile willow bows 
As a maddened woman tears her hair! 
Summer skies will soothe the wind, 
Caressing sunbeams kiss the leaves, 
The pale magnolias bloom In dells 
Where fairies trill their moonlight glees— 
The’re wilder storms to wreck a life 
Than ever Sea-kings braved,— 
More scorohlng blasts than blight the path 
Through torrid deserts made ;— 
For learn 'Us Sin that makes man mourn— 
A Christian's heart bewails no loss; 
Did God the Father spare his Son ? 
Remember, man, that prayer-thnt Cross! 
A MOTHER'S LOVE. 
The pure, unbiased love of any being, no 
matter kow lowly, is a sacred thing. I have 
seen affection welling from the dark eye of 
brutes, for which I thanked tholr maker; but 
next to the line of “Our Father which art In 
heaven," there la nothing on earth purer, holler, 
more lasting, than a true, virtuous mother’s 
love. No motive of self-interest can push It 
aside; no distance can dim It; no prime, no 
degradation, no Ingratitude can quench it. 
Though the child of her affection go down'to 
the lowest depths of immorality; though it 
become a thing spurned, despised and con¬ 
demned by Its fellow-beings, yet the mother's 
love clings to It; still her voice Is heard en¬ 
deavoring to bring tho lost one up from the 
depths of sin and misery; still her tears are 
shed, her prayers uttered that her child may bo 
saved. Though her love be repaid with un¬ 
gratefulness or careless indifference, still she 
loves on. 
Who can estimate It? Who cotlld tell Its 
priceless worth as they havo felt It shielding 
them from the cold, unfeeling, calculating 
world?—aa they have felt whe amoug stran- 
erswho neither knew nor cared for them, who 
looked upon them with an unsympathetic eye, 
that a mother’s lore was watching over them 
wit h a careful anxiety sympathising with them 
in their loneliness and heart-struggles? —as 
they have felt Its cheering w;irrnth when friends 
grew cold, when others blamed and shunned ! 
Yet how many treat lightly a mother's love, 
looking upon it as a thing of earth Instead of a 
girt from Heaven, leaving It unrequited until 
the dark grave forever shuts it out from them, 
and, when they feel how cold and Indifferent Is 
all human sympathy In comparison, then come 
bitter replnlnga and unavailing regrets! 
Geraldine Germane. 
- **■* . 
ENGLISH NEEDLE-WOMEN, 
TrtR needle-women of Liverpool have been 
holding meetings for the purpose of procuring 
an Increase of pay for their hard labor. A Mr. 
Stiinson, who takes a great interest in the work¬ 
ing classes, presides at their assemblies, and the 
facts brought to light show that the condition 
of the English needle-women is, indeed, deplor¬ 
able. One woman, a mantle maker, stated that 
she worked twelve hours a day, with an allow¬ 
ance of an hour and a-haif for meals. When 
the inspector came to visit the workroom the 
employer represented that there were fewer 
people in the house than there usually were, her 
object being to get the establishment under the 
Workshop Act Instead of the Factory Act, soaa 
to be able to keep her work-women to a later 
hour. The wages ranged from five shillings to 
twelve shillings a week, and for these sums the 
women had to keep themselves. 
The mantle makers, however, would seem to 
be much better paid than the plain sowers. One 
young woman, a plain sewer, said she worked 
eleven hours s day and received a permanent 
salary of seven shillings a week, and she was the 
best machinist In the room. If this Is the wa¬ 
ges of the best, It maybe Imagined what the bad 
machinists receive. One old woman, who said 
she had been forty years a plain sewer, actually 
asserted that she had worked live days for 
eighteen pence. A middle-aged womausald she 
had worked at sack-making from half-past sev¬ 
en In the morning till six In the evening, with 
half an hour for dinner, and she got four shil¬ 
lings a week. A young woman said she was 
a machinist, and made youth's single jackets, 
for which she was paid at the rate of five pence 
for four. It took her half of the day to make 
the four, When she came out at night she add¬ 
ed. after working a heavy machine all day, she 
could hardly stand on her feet. 
But even this statement is surpassed hy that 
of another machinist, who makes gentlemen’s 
trousers, and who said sho was paid three shil¬ 
lings a dozen, or for tho very best four shillings. 
If we worked," she explained, “ from six 
o'clock in the morning until twelve at night. 
we might manage, with the assistance of a bast- 
er, to make half a dozen." “That Is," asked 
Mr. Stimpson, “two shillings for working eigh¬ 
teen hours, and out of that sum yon find your 
own thread and silk?" To which she replied, 
“Ye*." 
Another young women said she got throe half¬ 
pence a dozen for making linen cuffs and collars. 
She could earn flvepence a day by working from 
nine to seven. That was as much as others 
earned. A correspondent of the Liverpool Al¬ 
bion, who has been Investigating the matter, 
confirms many of the above statements. 
The following fs a description of one of the 
above establishments visited by him:—“The 
workrooms are two cellars, each fifteen feet by 
eighteen, the floors being nine feet six Inches 
beneath the level of the roadway. An opening 
has been made In the partition wall so as to 
connect the two cellars, Workshops less likely 
to fulfill the conditions of health It would be 
rather difficult to conceive. One of the cellars 
contained five machines and the other three. 
The proprietor Informed us that, he employed 
sixteen or seventeen ‘hands,’ including his 
wife and himself, but, at. the time of our visit 
there was no work going on In one of tho cellars. 
In the other there were nine girls and women, 
some at work and Others taking a ‘teadinner.’ 
The countenance of all—proprietor and pro¬ 
prietor’s wife, women and girts—bore sallow 
evidence of tHo effects of spending many hours 
a day‘In a close place,’ It Is but fair to add 
that the profits of the ‘sweater’ appear to be 
anything but excessive. lie Is, In fact, but a 
contractor for the shops, and is himself nearly 
as poor as those he employs." 
-*•♦-*- 
ALICE AND PHGSBE CARY. 
Reviewing a memorial work upon the Cary 
Sisters, by Mrs. Ames, the Editor of the Aldtne 
says :—“Mrs. Ames complains of a lack of ma¬ 
terial, but surely if tho Garys were the notable 
women she Imagines, the lacking material ex¬ 
ists. Their light was not shod under a bushel, 
but In the greatest city of America, where they 
resided for upward nf twenty years, and where 
they were the center of a lltorary circle. It 
ought not to be difficult to fill up the outlines 
of their life In New York, There are scores of 
tholr friends who could have assisted Mrs. Ames 
In her loving task. The present writer knew 
them well from the beginning of their career. 
Alice came here first, and at tho Instigation of 
Dr. Griswold, who was the means of bringing 
out the first collection of verse In which sho 
and Phcebe figured, and who greatly admired 
her genius. Always an enthusiast or an Icono¬ 
clast, lie set. her above all tho female poets of 
the day, and waa ready to strike down every one 
who disputed her pre-eminence. His violent 
friendship made her enemies among those who 
did not know her. When they canto to know 
her, they were at. once her friends. Phoche soon 
followed ALICE hither, with n younger sister 
named Klmina, who was very beautiful, and 
who wrote beautiful poetry, which was like 
Alice’s, but more Immature. Phiebk was much 
that Alice was not. She was sunny aud Jolly, 
and running over wii.h wit and humor. She 
wrote parodies, one of which, a burlesque of, 
Bayard Taylor’s ballad of “Manuola," was 
ns good as the ballad it burlesqued. Thoy were 
all clover, but not hard to do, we imagine,-cer¬ 
tainly not so hard as the parodies of Mr. Cal- 
verley. Her serious pootry was like Alice’ 9 ; 
Its finish was better, but Its poetic value was 
less. What value will ultimately be sot upon 
the poetry of both, posterity will decide,—as it 
has already done In the case of Mrs. Hbmans 
and Miss Lanpon, and is now- doing in the case 
of Mrs. Browning. It is certainly poetry, and 
of a kind that is their own. Its prevailing tone 
is that of sorrow, which is very sweetly ex¬ 
pressed." 
WOMAN PERSONALS. 
At Carllnvllle, III., a young, divorced woman 
became engaged to a gontleman who, after 
overcoming many family objections to his pur¬ 
suit of happiness, visited the Clerk's ofll«e for 
the purpose of procuring the documents re¬ 
quired by law to make him the possessor of tho 
treasure. While on his errand, the quondam 
husband unexpectedly returned, confessed his 
faults, was forgiven, faded affection was re¬ 
stored, the marriage ceremony was again per¬ 
formed, and the re-united couple left the village 
an*d “ no cards " for the disappointed suitor. 
There Is a Miss Fay, a missionary, traveling 
In the West, who can take care of herself under 
all circumstances. The other day, while pass¬ 
ing along a very narrow sidewalk in Chicago, 
she saw before her a great lout of a fellow who 
had “ made a back " for “ leap-frog," and not 
wishing to step Into the muddy street, sho made 
a short run and took the leap In regular boy 
style, landing some distance beyond the human 
obstruction. This done, she moved gracefully 
away amid the applause of (he spectators. 
One day recently, near Marysville, Cal., a 
thirty-pound wildcat robbed Miss Leonore 
Methuen (aged sixteen) of a pet lamb, when 
that heroic young lady buckled on her little 
pistol and pursued the cruel monster, and with 
the assistance of a dog, treed the animal In a 
live oak, when sho scientifically shot him 
through the head. Who will say after this that 
California girls can't shoot? 
Miss Lena Clark, is cashier of an Iowa bank. 
Recently she missed a train, and, determined to 
fill an appointment, walked seven miles when 
the mercury was thirty degrees below zero. 
ending for the fgmmg. 
THE 6T0RY OF THE EARTHEN POT, 
And the Iron Pot, 
FROM THE FRENCH OF LA FONTAINE. 
An iron pot a proposition once did make 
Unto his friend, tho earthon pot. 
That thoy. In company, a trip should take 
To sec the stghts. 
And all dellghte 
That men go round the world to see. 
The earthen pot wan much obliged, but said 
It was not best for him to go, 
Becauso his ware was brittle, and his painted head 
Would fall to bits, 
And he be minus nil Ills wits, 
If anything should hit him, so he’d quiot be. 
“If we pass anything that’s hard, I promise you 
the wall,” 
The Iron pot replied; 
“ When anything shall threaten to befall, 
Before you I will go, 
Aud will avert tho blow 
From off your painted head. To go pray do 
decide.” 
The earthon pot consented. They started the next 
day 
In search of sights; 
Rolling on three feet along tho stony way. 
Babbling, as they wont. 
Fast after pleasure bent. 
When crash !—the Iron pot fell 'gainst the brlttlo 
side 
Of his companion. Now by the roadside lay 
The silly, earthen pot, 
A heap of useless fragments. The Journey didn’t 
P»7. 
All pots that easy break, 
Their Iron friends had best not take 
When they a pleasure trip would make. 
Elizabeth Cummings. 
THE RAINY DAY. 
by xena. 
“I do wish it wouldn’t rain," said Jcjhn, a 
very discontented, unhappy expression coming 
over hia face. John really seemed to think it 
was a personal matter, and felt grieved accord¬ 
ingly. 
“ When I wanted to go with Edwin to see his 
cousin, it bad to rain. Uncle James promised 
me a ride, of course it rained. It always does 
when I want to go anywhere.” 
“John, come here, I want to talk with you," 
said his mother, Imoklug up from her work. 
John got up slowly from his scat, looking 
very -ro**, and coming to his mother, stood by 
hercmtlr. 
It was Saturday afternoon. All tho week 
John had looked forward to this day. His 
mind would wander from bis lessons thinking 
of it, and several times he had looked so absent- 
minded In his class, that, the teacher had to 
apeak quite loud to him, and once he went 
down to the foot, when he knew the answer 
perfectly. He felt very sorry, for he was an am¬ 
bitious boy, and liked to stand well in the class. 
“ It's too bad,’’ be said, to himself. “ But I’ll 
get up again, and Saturday I’ll have such fun.’’ 
And now the long-looknd-for day had come, 
tho rain was falling, the sky was dull and gray, 
with not. oven a passing glimpse of sunshine. 
Edwahp and Harry, hie two cousins, had 
promised to come and see him, if It was pleas¬ 
ant, and they wore all to go down to their 
father's office and have a treat of oranges and 
nuts. A long-promised ball, gaily colored, with 
hounding abilities of marvelous pretensions, 
was to be purchased, too, with the advice and 
counsel of Edward and Harry. Uncle James 
had promised tho boys that the one who could 
answer the most questions, without missing, in 
geography, should have a new book. 
JortN felt certain he would obtain tho prize, 
and was not a little proud that he was going to 
have a chance to let his uncle know how smart 
he was. And here it was raining —all that fun 
spoiled. 
“Johnnie, your shoes are very nice," said his 
mother. 
John looked down to his feet, pouting; he 
could not get over Hie idea that the rain had 
Injured him. 
“ You could walk out in all this rain and you 
wouldn't get your feet wet. Your coat, too. Is 
thick and warm. Did yon have a good break¬ 
fast this morning? " 
John nodded his head and said, “Yes, 
ma'am," very dolefully, however. 
“Look out and tell me if it is raining hard." 
John went to the window, and answered: 
“ Yes, ma’am, it is raining, but it is a little, fine 
rain. You don't think Eddie and Harry will 
cotne, do you, mother? " with a half sob. 
“ No; but I would like to have you go out 
with me awhile." 
John watched hia mother as she folded and 
put away her sewing. She left tho room and 
returned shortly, dressed for a walk, and, hand¬ 
ing him a large basket, said : 
“ You may carry this." 
“ What for, mother ? ” 
“ I will tell you soon. Now let us go.” 
They passed down the street they lived In, 
thon turned down another street—on, on they 
wal ketl. The streets grew narrower, the houses 
were old, and the doorways crowded with chil¬ 
dren. At one of these houses they stopped and 
went in. They passed UP a narrow, dark stair¬ 
way, through a long hall, and finally came to a 
door, knocl^d and went in. 
0, such a troop of children; not dean and 
nice, but ragged and dirty little children. They 
stoppod in their piny to stare at tho visitors. 
On a chair by the fire-place was a woman, very 
pale and slck-looklng, sewing on some coarse 
cloth. 
John's mother went to her and shook hands, 
and asked her how she was, then tho door 
opened and In cams a poor, delicate little fellow 
hobbling along on a crutch. 
“ How arc you to-day, I’eter ? I have brought 
nay littlo boy to see you.” 
I’f.teh looked upsearchingly Into tho visitor’s 
face, but Johnnie shrank back—he didn't want 
any acquaintances like that. 
“Johnnie," -«ald his rnnther, “littlo Peter 
here has been making the most, wonderful boat 
you ever saw." 
" It la not finished yet," said Peter's mother. 
‘lie was going out to-day to try and get some 
paint, hut I was afraid ho might get cold. And 
thank you a thousand times for I In* good things 
you havo sent me; we would have suffered very 
much if it bad not becij for you." 
Peter brought out bis boat from another 
room. John began to grow interested. It was 
a marvel of skill, and showed wonderful ability. 
"Why, did you do this?" said .JonN, with 
genuine admiration. 
“ 0 yes," said Peter, proudly. 
“ My I I wish 1 could make such a boat," said 
John 
" you ever try," said hia mother, softly. 
No, mother; you know I couldn't. 1 wish 
Edward and Harry could see this, and they 
think they arc smart." 
“How did you hurt, yourself?” 3ald John's 
mother, kindly, to the little boy. 
“ 1 was sweeping the crossings, ma’am, and a 
carriage wheel went over my loot ; then I was 
sick with fever, and they thought l was going 
to die; but I didn't." 
“ H was because of the clolhes and medicine 
you sent him. ma'am," said Peter's mother. 
They left the basket; it was full of nice things, 
aud the family had a real feast, after the visitors 
were gone. As they walked along, John said: 
" Mot her, I wish I could help Peter ! ” 
“You can," said his mother. 
“How?" 
“Think.” 
“ Well, I can give him some of my old clothes 
and shoes." 
“ Yes." 
(After a alienee)—" I wonder If ho Knows how 
to read?" 
" No, I think not." 
“ I think he U a smart boy, don't you, mother? 
That boat was splendid ! " 
“ Yes." 
“ Mother, see hero ; If you will let me, I’ll toll 
you what I'd like to do. I'd go every Saturday 
afternoon and teach that hoy to rend. That 
boat was splendid! There isn't a boy in our 
school could muko one like It." 
When they got home, John's mother called 
him to her and said (sho hud given him time to 
think about. It): 
" Johnnie, were you In earnest about teaching 
Peter to read ? " 
" Yea, H you think I could," boeilntingly. 
“Do you think you could? You know it 
won't be very pleasant to go there Saturday. 
Some :1..) s it miirht rain, and It is quite a long 
distance, too. Peter may be very dull about 
learning." 
“ Mother, I’ll tell you what we will do. If 
you will lot me, I could give Peter some 
clothes, and w« will dress him up ami lot him 
come hero every Saturday, and I'll teach him." 
“ Will you toll Peter that, when he comes to 
bring home the bosket? Saturday comes every 
week, and Peter would get discouraged if he 
cotne for his lessons and you were not here." 
“No, mother; I’ve thought all about it, and 
made up my mind I want him to come." 
Pkti.r was delighted when he heard the good 
news. Ho rauio every Saturday, and John gave 
him a lesson. 
After a few weeks, John’s father, rearing that 
he might grow weary of his good work, sent 
I*ktbr to school. And when Summer carno and 
tho family weut into t he country, Peter came 
with his boat, and all the boys- U.mmiy and 
Eddie and John, and a score of others — had a 
grand celebration and launched the boat on the 
pond ; and John felt, not a littlo proud when ho 
looked at. the hoaf christened “Happy Hours” 
- to know that Peter had given It that name in 
memory of the pleasant hours they had had 
passed together, and that lie hod been the first 
one to teach the little architect, to read. 
So you see how much good a little boy can do 
if he tries. 
®hc flutter. 
WORD AND PHRASE PUZZLE.-No. 2. 
Mr. Cave ney was total mould by Mr. Not old 
the oriuity of concord to 15 inches what ho 
horned horse about the partial engagement of 
came 
troops. He the to attest not to procoed, and 
said he did to entangle a province of an arch¬ 
bishop the to cavil eo could to relate no value 
only from rumor, so was permitted to depart, 
ar Answer In two weeks. f. m. r. 
-♦«-«- 
ANAGRAMS OF ANIMALS.-No. 1. 
birds. 4. Low laws. 5. Do keep crow. fl. Bird 
red car. T. A corner C. K. 8. G. tub inn. 9 . 
I’d (lee far. 10. Leg saul. 11. I can mire a 
Sherk. 12. The asp an. KJ. No cord. 
{37” Answer in two weeks. j. m. s. 
PROBLEM. No. 4. 
From a point, within an equilateral triangle 
let fall three perpendiculars whose lengths are 
respectively 20, .'to and forty rods, intersecting 
tho sides. What is the area of the triangle 
formed by connecting the points or Intersection. 
Answer in two weeks. 8. o. c. 
PUZZLER ANSWERS.-Feb. 8. 
Illustrated Rebus No. 5. —Sawdust pills 
cure many diseases. 
Problem No. 3.—1st, 26,2152 cubic inches: 
2d, 24 cubic inches. 
Cross-W oitu Enigma No. 4.—Colorado. 
Miscellaneous Enigma No. 3.— Victoria. 
