APB1L 
MOOSE’S BUBAL fJEW-¥OBBER 
Radies’ portfolio. 
NO ONE TO LOVE ME. 
BY RUTH DANA, 
AND Is It true none know tno but to hate, 
Or pass mo by with hidden scorn ? 
I surely had not dreamed of such a fate, 
Bereft of friendships true and warm. 
No one to love me, though my weary feet 
Should chance to stumble In some sin; 
No friend with pleasant, smiles my coming greet, 
And gently load the wanderer in. 
Take back those cruel words; they make me dumb 
or own them spoken but In Jest. 
If true, 'tis bard to boar them when they come 
From lips whose praise 1 love the best. 
To-day fond memories crowd the pleasant, aisles 
Where i.ovc baft built a sacred shrine— 
Too precious still to be forgotten while 
One link yot binds my heart to thine. 
I would that some should grieve when I am dead, 
And miss me from the vacant chair; 
Some hand should plant sweet roses round my bed. 
That friends might love to linger there. 
■-♦ ♦ ♦ 
EVERY-DAY LIFE. 
BY I.KAD MJNCIL, ESQ. 
Apologetic. 
It is too bad ! And "Too bad" has a double 
application. I sent, the Rural New-Yorker 
libit year a letter from Sally Teazle giving her 
experiences in one farmer’s home, and behold ! 
down comes tin- whole American world of 
housewives upon her with a swoop that would 
take any one ofT his or her feet. Why, I have 
received from the editor scores (more or less) 
of Indignant communications relative to that 
letter, and, of course, I could not, ask that de¬ 
voted personage (the editor) for space to print 
them because 1 knew he did not have it. Ac¬ 
cordingly I have kept still—and should have 
done so. perhaps forever, had I not received a 
letter from a lady, which appealed to mo direct, 
and I could not resist the temptation to rush 
again into print. But before 1 begin, I want to 
say a word or two about some of those letters I 
have received. 
Dictating to Farmers. 
“A Farmer’s Wlfo” writes me that she is 
"tired of this continually dictating to farmers 
by people who know nothing of farm-work.” 1 
don’t wonder! I should be, too! But I doubt if 
there are many writers who refer to 
far lifers at all, who “ know nothing of 
farm work;*' and there are few w riters who at¬ 
tempt to “dictate." It does not harm you and 
I, my good Madame, to look in the glass, though 
It mav not gratify our personal vanity to do so. 
Wo may discover what other popple see every 
lime they look at us, and what, they probably 
talk about. It is well to know ourselves. Even 
If we do not like tho picture, it may set us about 
modifying it, which we would not be likely to 
do if we had not seen It. Tho best answer to 
give people who see our faults (If we have any) 
and tell us of them, is to amend them. At 
least I have found it so and am always thankful 
to those who think enough of mo to point, them 
out. 
A Letter From a Farmer’s Daughter, 
Dated “ Rural Home, Virginia," I ; sunt me 
with the rest, and is very sensible and catholic 
in its treatment of the subject of the life in 
farmers’homos. This daughter evidently un¬ 
derstands that Sally Teazle, when she de¬ 
scribed one farmer’s homo, did not assume that 
all were llkoit; If she had, it would have been 
as unjust as to believe that because one boor 
lives in a city, all who live In cities are boors. 
And yet there are a great many as many, per¬ 
haps, as anywhere boors in cities; and if I were 
to describe one as a sample. It would not follow 
that all arc. I thank " A Farmer’s Daughter” 
Tor her article and wish Mr. Moore could print 
the whole of it. 
“ Dear Little Alice,” 
Bowl desire to know her!—so different from 
Sally Teazle! At least a Fulton, N. Y„ woman 
thinks so, for shosays she had the pleasure of 
entertaining a friend through her summer va¬ 
cation. "Alice, dear little Alice, vm called 
her a school teacher. She did not ‘board 
round.’ She was bo pleasant and helpful that 
her presence proved a comfort and blessing to 
every member of my family." I am glad to know 
there are sucli school-teachers! But It is no 
more safe to Judge all teachers by “dear little 
Alice" than It 1* nil the farmer’s homes by 
that described by Sally Teazle. Nor does It 
follow- because Sally Teazi.k did not state 
that, she was helpful and made effort to render 
her presence a blessing and comfort to her 
friends, that she did not do so. Site, r happen 
to know, would be one of the last persons to 
boast of vrliat she had done. Dot this Fulton 
lady gives 
A Lesson In Good Breeding. 
She says, “ No well-bred person, after ac¬ 
cepting the hospitality of friends, will, on go¬ 
ing away, say anytldng to make tlieir home ap¬ 
pear to disadvantage. Why not. see the good 
and speak of that; for there is some good in 
every home.” All of which is very true, so far 
as the good breeding goes. But then Sally 
Tkazlk didn't name anybody nor does any one 
(except herself) know whom she referred to. I 
am sure I do not, But concerning the last sen¬ 
tence In the above quotation, I beg to say that 
if I were to visit, this Fulton lady’s beautiful 
homo and llud In the midst of tho beautiful 
grounds which surround jt, a loathsome, 
malarious and disease-breeding cess-pool, I do 
not think would be impolite, In calling the at¬ 
tention of my friends to her beautiful home, If 
I mentioned the cess-pool—no more impolite 
than It Is that slieshoutd tolerate it and permit 
to obtrude its noxious presence upon every 
visitor. People should not forget that there is 
a difference between personal and impersonal 
comments upon features in social life, and that 
the only way evils can bo corrected is to call 
attention to them. It Is quite ns impolite to 
offend one’s friends by failing to observe tho 
common decencies of life as it is for one's 
friends to assert that one does not do It- If a 
friend compliments me by visiting me, ho or 
she has as many claims upon me as I may have 
upon him or Iter. It is Just as Important that 
I should exhibit good breeding as it is that my 
friends do ; if my friends fail it is no excuse for 
mo if I do so. 
Servants ve. Helpers. 
Kate \V. objects to Sally Teazle calling 
hired help servants and suys, “ They are helpers.” 
What Is the difference, Kate ? Whoever serves 
or helps is a servant and it Is In no sense a dis¬ 
grace to be called so. Was it not Christ Who 
said, “ Whosoever will be chief among you, let 
him be your servant. ?” and “ Whosoever will be 
great among you let him be your ministerV" 
Was not Christ avowedly a servant? And do 
you know of any useful human being who is 
not one—even the greatest? I do not; and I 
have no tolerance for this specks of false pride 
which takes offence when correct names are 
used to distinguish one human being from an¬ 
other. If t servo or help other people, 1 am to 
t hat extent, their servant: if they servo or help 
me they are ray servants. Kate should not en¬ 
courage any thin-skinned sensitive!mas’about 
these distinctions. It. Is foolish, unmanly and 
unwomanly to betray such feeling; It Is a sure 
Index of a small soul a narrow, shallow mind. 
Kate writes I.eat> Pencil a very pleasant air- 
count of her country sojourn, but it is too long 
to print. 
But my space is filled, and I find I have not 
reached tho letter which started my pencil 
again. Next time I will try to do so. 
-♦+♦- 
SOME HINTS ON DRESS. 
PnoBAJiLY nothing that is not, useful is in any 
high sense beautiful. At least it. will be almost 
universally seen In the matter of dress that 
where an effect Is bad it Is an artificial or false 
effect, and rice n rmi. Bows stuck about whim 
there is no possibility of their fastening t wo 
parts, almost always appear ridiculous; when 
needed for a mere ornament., a rosette should 
1)0 used, which pretends to bo nothing else. In 
the making of drosses, lines ending nowhere, 
and nohow, are often apparent, and never fail 
to annoy the uyo. The outlines of bonnets are 
conspicuous instances of this mistake. There 
is no art Instinct, and but. little nf the pictur¬ 
esque element, In a nation who are indifferent 
to these things, and whose eye does not In¬ 
stinctively demand a meaning and a token in 
everything. Thu uncultured dress-maker, only 
longing for novelty. Invents forms of attire that 
would be Impossible were dress less utterly ar¬ 
tificial than it, is, and this Is half t he cause of 
our universal Ill-dressing. No fashion or form 
can leave the mind without a jar that is not 
where It is because Indispensable there. Wheth¬ 
er it occur in a house or in a gown, tho principle 
must be the same. One uf the reasons why 
peasants, fishwives, and such folk look pictur¬ 
esque and beautiful even In their rags, whatever 
be the mixture of color or arrangement, of form 
—so much more beautiful than fashionable peo¬ 
ple look, even when they try to Imitate t he fish¬ 
wife -is, 1 think, the motive apparent in every¬ 
thing they wear. The bright kerchief that cov¬ 
ers tho peasant's shoulders is so much better 
than a bodice trimmed In tho form of a ker¬ 
chief. A hood that is at once seen to be inca¬ 
pable of going over the head; something that 
lOOks like a tunic fu one place, yet In another is 
seen to have no lawful habitation, nor a name; 
a false apron, a festoon that looks as though it 
hud fallen accidentally upon tho skirt , when by 
no possible means except glue or irrelevant plus 
(•ould It stay there; a veil that you at once per¬ 
ceive la never meant to descend over the face, 
but la tacked to the top of the head In an exas¬ 
perating manner; heavy lappets, that, instead 
of being tho natural termination of something 
else, hang meaningless and mutilated; slashes 
that are sewn upon the sleeve instead of break¬ 
ing through it; and other things of Ihc same 
kind; they leave the eye unsatisfied, discon¬ 
tented, often disgusted.— Saint Paul's Magazine. 
• -»•»♦- 
The fondness <>f women for the looking-glass 
is easily accounted for on the principle that tho 
proper study for mankind is man, and conse¬ 
quently the proper study of woman is herself. 
Southey tells <if a Spanish nun who escaped 
from a Jong confinement In a convent, and the 
first thing she Inquired for was a looking-glass. 
She was put in the convent when five years old, 
and did not look In a mirror from the time of 
her entrance until the time of her escape. Her 
desire to see how she looked by consulting a 
glass was natural and certainly very pardonable. 
-♦♦♦-- 
A bound of energy with an ounce of talent 
will achieve greater results than a pound of 
talent and an ounce of energy. 
HUittlhwj for tire Jgtnuuj. 
MUD PIES. 
UNDER the apple tree, spreading and thick, 
Happy with only a pan and a stick. 
On tho soft grass In the shadow thnl lies, 
Our little Fanny Is making mud ptes. 
On her brown apron and bright, drooping head. 
Showers of pink and white blossoms are shed; 
Tied to a brunch that seems meant Just for that, 
Dances and flutters her llttlo straw hut. 
Dash, full of Joy In the bright summer day, 
Zealously chases the robins away, 
llarlcs at tho squirrels, or snaps at the tiles. 
All the while fanny la making mud pies. 
Sunshine and soft summer breezes astir, 
Wbllo she is busy, are busj r with her: 
Chucks rosy plowing, and bright, sparkling eyes, 
Bring they to FANNY while making rail'd pies. 
Dollies and play things Rre all laid away, 
Not to coma out till tho next rainy day. 
Under the blue of these sweet summer skies, 
Nothing's so pleasant ns making mud pies. 
Oravoly sbn stirs, with a serious look 
“ Making bell.<ve” she’s tt true pastry cook; 
Sundry brown splashes on forehead and eyes 
Show that our Fanny Is making mud pies. 
But nil the soil of her Innocent play, 
Clean soapor.d water will soon wash away; 
Many a pleasure In daintier guise 
Leaves darker traces than Fanny’s mud pics. 
TOM SIBLEY, THE LITTLE GENERAL. 
BY LAURA SOUTHGATE. 
The sun was just rising on tho long rows of 
white tents, and the men were busy preparing 
breakfast, when Tom Si bley took his gun and 
went out to shoot, a bird for his father, who was 
lying sick. 
Tom was fifteen years old at. I Ids time, and his 
father was general of a division of the army ; for 
this t hat I am going to tell happened in Mexico, 
thirty years ugo, at the lime of the war. Tom 
started off with his gun, whistling as he wont, 
and Hector, his dog, raced on before him. On 
ho went, a long way, quite out of sight of the 
encampment. 
He hod shot several birds, and was.lust, about 
returning, when, sitting >>n a fallen log, he 
chanced to take out his field-glass. He looked 
through it carelessly for a few moments, but 
suddenly he saw something that made him 
jump to his feet, and look very sharp and 
eagerly. It was but a little speck, and s*> fat 
off, Iml surely it moved. Tom held his breath 
fairly, and kept his eye on that one spot. 
Yea, It moved, it moved! It was the enemy, 
a moment more, and there was no mistake. 
And now Tom started, and ran as fast us his 
legs could carry him; indeed his breath was 
quite gone when he reached the camp. 
His fa< her was sitting up in bed taking it cup 
of tea, wldch old black Peter had made him, 
"Oh, father," exclaimed Tom, bursting in, 
"They’re coming, they’re coming,—way off, 
beyond Sand Hill! I could see them through 
my glass,—but I'm certain, I saw them plain.” 
And then seeing how pule and sick his fa ther 
looked, he stopped, and was sorry he had not 
been more quiet. 
The general finished his ton with tv thoughtful 
look,and laid back on his pillow ; and then, In 
a faint,, feeble voice, gave his son a few direc¬ 
tions to bo taken to the men. 
It happened unfortunately at that time, one 
or two of tho other officers had been attacked 
with the fever of the country, and tills was why 
Tom’s father cost his thoughts so anxiously 
about. 
"My son,” he said when Tom returned, “do 
you think you could lead tho men?” 
“Oh, father 1" but quickly he added, "Oh, 
yes, I’m sure I cun, I am not afraid.” 
The general pointed to his sword, that was 
hanging up, and tho red sash with It. 
"And I can wear your sword, father?” 
"Take It my brave boy, I have no fears but 
you will do well." 
Tom was a great favorite with the men, they 
had taught him to ride, and to shoot at a mark, 
and when they heard that he was to lead them, 
they cheered loudly for "the Little General." 
He was accustomed to wear the uniform of a 
sub-officer, and now his heart hounded with 
pride and excitement, a* he took down his 
father's sword and sash, and fastened them on. 
"And father l will ride Old Grey.” 
" Yes, and oh, my boy 
" Don't, be afraid, father, you know I am not, 
wo shall have a glorious victory." 
Old Peter was getting the horse ready, and 
Tom stood listening to the few directions his 
father had to give him. 
" My brave, bravo boy !” he said as Tom went 
out to mount, his horse. 
All was soon ready, and then the drum beat, 
and the life sounded, and tho march began ; the 
music playing gaily, and the bayonets Hashing 
brightly In tho sunshine. There was no great 
thought of fear, and the men cheered as they 
regarded their young leader. 
They had not. very far to go before they met 
the advancing enemy. 
" On, on 1" shouted Tom dashing forward. 
Li a few minutes tho fight began, and the flash 
of the musketry, and the loud, sharp, cracking 
noise was quickly followed by thick clouds of 
smoke. 
There was no plume In Tom’s cap, but he tied 
a hankorchlef around It., that his men might 
keep him in sight, as he dashed about here and 
there. 
There was crash, and roar, and confusion ; and 
men were wounded; and men Were killed ; and 
Tom was hoarse with shouting. And presently 
he felt something upon Ills baud; a small 
stream of blood was tickling down his arm. He 
did not know a ball had struck his shoulder, 
making a had fiesh wound. But. In a short time 
a sense of faintness come upon him, and he was 
glad to see old Peter approaching; and just at 
that, moment , too, he heard his men shout that 
the enemy were on the retreat. He saw them 
make a rush forward, but he was becoming 
weak and dizzy, and would have fallen off his 
horse, had not old Peter caught him. 
Home of tho men had come around him, and 
presently more and more of them returned, and 
took their way, shouting and hurrahing, back to 
the camp. 
Tom’s wound was painful, and it was quito a 
long time before ho recovered from it, but to 
the men ho was quite a hero, and a greater 
favorite than ever. 
He is a grown up man now, and lives in Chi¬ 
cago; ami if you should moot him you would 
never think him a military man, but his old 
friends to this day call him the Little General. 
• - 
BOYS, READ AND HEED THIS! 
Many people seen) to forget that character 
grows ; that it is not somet hing to put on, ready 
made, with womanhood or manhood; but, day 
by day, here a little and Lhero a little, grows 
with the growth and strengthens with tho 
strength, until, good, ur bad, it becomes almost 
a coat of mail. Look at a man of business — 
prompt , reliable, conscientious, yet dear headed 
and energetic. When do you suppose lie devel¬ 
oped all those admirable qualifies? when he 
was a. hoy? Let us see the way In which a boy of 
ten years gets up In the morning, works, plays, 
studies, and we will tell you just what kind of a 
titan he will make. The boy that is late at 
breakfast, and late at school stands a poor 
chance to he a prompt man. Tho boy who neg¬ 
lects his duties, bo they ever so small, and then 
excuses himself by saying, “ I forgot 1 T didn't 
think ! " will never be a reliable man. And the 
boy who finds pleasure In Hie suffering of weak¬ 
er tilings, will never be n noble, generous, kind¬ 
ly man; a gentleman. 
■ ♦» »- 
YVe sloop, but the loom of life never stops; 
and the pattern which whs weaving when the 
sun went down will be weaving when it comes 
up to-morrow. 
ILLUSTRATED PROVERB.-No. 2. 
u 
Jj& 
Answer in two weeks. 
-- 
PROBLEM.-No. 7. 
A gentleman being asked the time of day, 
replied that, if to three-fourths of the time from 
now till midnight you add five-eights of the time 
past noon, you will have the time of day. Re¬ 
quired tho time of day. Scholium. 
W Answer in two weeks. 
- ■ — --- 
PUZZLER ANSWERS. March 22. 
Illustrated Proverb No. 1.—“ Barefooted 
men should not tread on thorns.” 
Miscellaneous Enigma No. 5. — Tiglath- 
pilesec. 
Anagram No. 3.— 
What are thoughts! a wind-swept meadow, 
Mlmmlcklng a troubled sea; 
Are not life and death a shadow 
From the rock eternity? 
Geographical Puzzle No. 1 (see page 170).— 
I was going on a journey, so t went out to pre¬ 
pare for It. First, I purchased a piece of Astra- 
Join for un outside wrap, and some Cologne for 
its perfume. J asked the clerk for my bill, and 
he said tho sum was ’a'Guinea. I passed on, 
and soon met a Peer of Belgium looking for 
some Nice fowls, which he had seen flying 
through the Air <o); but could not see to throw 
o Stone, because the Air (e) was so full of Smoke. 
I went, into another store, and asked a Man if 
he had any Pearl colored silk, of which 1 bought 
enough for a dress, and a Hood to top off wit h 
I Mien went back to my Castlo (Cassell, and be¬ 
gan packing my provisions. My box was made 
of lied Cedar, to keep its contents from Worms. 
I filled it with a piece of Buffalo, an Egg, some 
Halt, Spice, Onion, and Bourbon. 1 told a Las¬ 
sie (Lassa) to do up some Nankin, and see if the 
box was full. It was full, and just then I heard 
Allen at the door, and found that a Negro was 
holding my horse, i took a Lily (Lille.) which 
was in full bloom, for a friend, and departed, 
after receiving a Farewell from all my friends. 
Minnie Gilchrist. 
