cr 
MAY M 
M©0BE 8 S BUBAL JJEW-YOBKEB. 
yj d> tO 
COMPENSATION. 
Oit human love la awcc.t, supremely s veefcl 
But It doth bkle with few. And it is »; eei 
It should be so. While one doth press to greet 
With eager lips the one who oometh f. set— 
Tho many go their loveless ways alo i». 
To give them tender solnoe there are none. 
They firmly walk, and bravely, withoat moan, 
Became of compensations that atone. 
It must bo so. 1'lnch heart doth know its own. 
“ My love hath passed forever, tar away. 
He answereth not to me toy night or day.” 
“And mine hath proven false—oh listen, pray. 
He hath forgotten, and he went astray.” 
“ And mine did come unbidden to my heart, 
It might not be—unohlddeu he did pa *t 
From me. Now oftttmes memory doth start— 
At mention of a name along the mart— 
“ A thousand keen sensations. They subside 
Like sobbing rnuBic at the eventide. 
Groat, grave, and purposeful, and true, betide 
Me stamla my life, whispering ‘ Tho x art my 
bride,’— 
Tho' all else perish, Gon doth vkt abidd.” 
“HUNGRY, AND YE FED ME.” 
Breakfast was Just over at Mrs. Holmes’ 
when a little la<l with n pinched face called 
around at tho kitchen door to “ borrow a flat¬ 
iron." 
“Come In, Jamie," said Mrs. Holmss, cheer¬ 
ily, setting a chair close by tho stovi. “How 
cold you arc, child ! Put up your test on tiie 
hearth and warm them,” and she slij ped, a bit 
of shingle under hla snowy shoe-hue’s ; “now 
just get warmed through, and I will Inko you a 
nice buckwheat." So saying, she slipped on a 
cake griddle and brightened tho lire, and pres¬ 
ently a cake was browning delightfully, mak¬ 
ing the boy’s eyes shine. 
“Would you like sirup on it, JAMTB?" she 
asked, as lie hold tho plate on hi* knoos and 
prepared to enjoy it its only such a half-starved 
child knows how. Jamie assented, ami she 
poured out the golden drips from tlio shining 
silver cup, which almost dazzled tho little eyes 
with its beauty, 
Then Mrs. Holmes put on another cake and 
busied herself about her kitchen, to J ami* 
might feel no restraint. She baked them a.-; 
long as his appetite held out, ami little Jamik 
trudged home through the snow with a feeling 
of comfort ho did not have when hu want over 
the road before. 
“I think, M'ARIT, you ought to keep a hotel," 
said her Cousin Louise, as site watched, the boy 
bounding down tho hill. “ You do like to feed 
folks so well. That is tho seventh meal you 
have given away, to my knowledge. I should 
think you would break your husband." 
“That is the principal way I haye of helping 
him,” said Mary, laughing. “One way or an¬ 
other, it all comes back to us tenfold. You 
look skeptical, bul. i could toll you some very 
curious instance* whore it has coins about so 
plainly that no one could help seeing It. But 
if it did not, could I bear to enjoy my abun¬ 
dance and lot people go from my door iialf- 
famlshod, when a tithe of one of our comfort¬ 
able meals would put a very different face on 
the world to thorn ? I will leave it to you ir it 
is not one of tho cheapest sources of pleasure 
even to yourself that you can indulge in ?" 
“It is a pleasure to so« a hungry man eat as 
that poor fellow did yesterday,” said Louise. 
“I poured him out three cups of coffee, and 
the comfortable look in his face every time he 
stirred one up, made me happy all day. He 
could not And words to express hla gratitude. 
‘I can go well on tha‘t till to-morrow,’ ho said, 
with a smile very different from his haggard 
look when he came in." 
“ I think ho told us a straight story; but if he 
didn't, that is not our fault. I get so much 
more than 1 deserve, I am not distressed if 1 
sometimes feed some one that Is not so deserv¬ 
ing. The Lord feeds a groat many undeserving, 
hungry people. In a case like this of little 
Jamie, there can be no question. I would rather 
give a cake to a child any time than eat it my¬ 
self. They will remember these tilings of us, 
Louise. I love to have the children remember 
me pleasantly." 
And they did remember her down to grey 
hairs. How do the poor children who come to 
your door remember you? More important 
still, how does the Master remember you ? 
HAS YOUR WIFE GOOD HELP ? 
1 
The cry of over-work from our farmei 3’ wives 
comes up from all over the land. Whan they 
utter no complaint themselves, the very circum¬ 
stances in which they are placed cry aloud for 
redress. The cry, too, should be heard fiom tho 
thousands of premature graves which dot our 
village church-yards, and the wall* of our in¬ 
sane asylums, to which so many of our farmers' 
wives, particularly in the West, are yearly 
brought. 
If a man does not provide suitable help for 
his wife, his duty la very plain. He should re¬ 
duce his farming operations until her part shall 
not exceed her strength. He knows better than 
tooverload his valuable horse, for which he paid 
out so much money. I know a man whose wife 
was ill, with not a person to help her, who gath¬ 
ered a dozen neighbors together to raise a barn. 
They were all to take dinner at, his house, and a 
“ raising dinner ” was expected to be something 
extra. 
“I don’t see how I can possibly get dinner," 
shosaid, as she lay on her pillow, feeling it was 
an Impossibility to rise. 
“ I guess you can get us something,” ha said, 
half peisuaaively. "You’ll feel hotter, taabbe, 
if you stli around a little ; I often do. I can get 
the men to help better to-day." And with 
these comforting reflections he wont off to his 
work, and gave no more thought to horn# and 
Its cares until summoned to dinner. Poor little 
Mrs. B., who always looked as If the wind would 
blow hot away, meekly arose, and essayed to go - 
about her regular duties. But it. was of n<. use. 
Hhe could not walk, or hardly sit up. Though a 
most excellent temperance woman, she felt, 
there waa only ono course before her. Hhc took 
from the shelf a bottle oj gin, and drank half a 
pint, and on the strength which it gave her for 
the hour cooked u dinner for twelve hungry 
men. 
Such men as Mr. B. (T came near writing his 
name, for l know him well) have no right to a 
fireside of their own and the comforts of a good 
home. They should serve as days-meu to hard 
employers all their lives. 
Has your wife good help for the hard sum¬ 
mer's work? If not, leave your oxen In the 
stall, and take out your horse and ride the coun¬ 
try over till you find help. Don't enlarge too 
much on the worthlessness of hired girls now- 
n-days, as you go about, or you may find it hard 
to get suited. Girls are shy of going to a place 
where the man Is surly. And when you And 
xnme ono willing to live out, remember Sydney 
Smith's direction in reference to domestics: 
“ Don’t expect perfection for twenty pounds a 
year.” J. 12. McC. 
-- 
UNWISE PARENTS. 
Every one bns, some time in life, c< mmltted 
little acts of thoughtlessness, < r foolishness, 
which are nut always pleasant to recall later in 
life, when one has learned a little wisdom. Yet, 
there are always some people, who not only do 
riot improve themselves as years pass on, but 
dislike to see any progress In ethers ; and these 
envious person* ore Just the ones who delight 
in humbling us, or “taking down our pride," as 
they call It, by frequent allusions to the awk¬ 
wardness or foolishness of our youthful days. 
What young lady, who, by frequnntUig good so¬ 
ciety, has become graceful and easy in manner, 
likes to bo told or the days when si ©waa the 
most awkward girl in the village ? What young 
man, who, from contact with businessmen and 
men of learning, Inis acquired good judgment 
ami pleasant manners, can bear, without emo¬ 
tions of anger, the taunts of those who refer to 
his verdancy on his first visit to tho city? 
We can ascribe such remarks ns these, from 
persons who have no interest tu our t regress, to 
envy; but when parents,hy way of pleasant.(?) 
conversation with visitors, discuss the youthful 
foolishness or awkwardness of their children, l 
know not to what to ascribe it, unless it lie a 
lack of wisdom. What person can appear at 
case before visitors, if ho every moment expects 
to hear discussed some little fault of his past 
life, that he is heartily ashamed of, ami has long 
ago corrected ? 
No child can place confidence in a parent who 
will tell such things; and if a parent will not 
respect the child's sensitiveness, who will re¬ 
gard it ? Such parents are unwise, unkind, un¬ 
natural 1 
Parents, if you would have the respect, the 
confidence, the love, of your children, I bog you 
to respect, their rights and their feelings. For 
their sakes, as well as your own, do not rouse 
their worst passions, by “ making fun ” at their 
expense. Lillian Mayne. 
--♦♦♦- 
MEMORY. 
We often hear of a “ bad memory," a “ treach¬ 
erous memory," but seldom of a “ good memo¬ 
ry." Why Is this? Is It because sorno are more 
favored than others? By no means. Memory 
is as susceptible of improvement as the voice or 
any of the faculties. We have bad memories 
because we badly treat them. Abuse your brain, 
your eyes, your stomach, and they will abuse 
you. the golden rule to the contrary notwith¬ 
standing. 
Neglect your memory, your friends, or your 
stock, and you can soon have poor stock, faith¬ 
less friends and a “ bad memory." Never insult 
your memory with “ I can’t t rust it. 1 rely upon 
my memoranda." Throw your memoranda 
away. When you wish your memory to retain 
anything, you must impress that something 
upon It so forcibly that its photograph will 
be there at all times for you to look at. To do 
this, you must first make a good Impression ; 
and then firmly fix it—not In ono corner, but 
upon the extended pages of what will soon be 
1 your veritable memory. Practice your memory 
I as you do your music. Frequently brush the 
! dust off every photograph in its album. Repeat 
stanzas, poems, &e. If you go shopping or to 
town, first impress your memory with the num- 
i ber of articles you wish to purchase; then ar¬ 
range them into classes, and when thus pre¬ 
pared. don’t go with your mind full of the latest 
fashions or the village gossip, but renew the im¬ 
pressions frequently, lest they be blurred by 
some "sensation" or “rumor” before you get 
to your destination. *• E- h. 
1 Milton, Ky, 
,leading for the fjtfwng. 
MATTIE’S TROUBLES. 
MY Ileiisey’* got the measles 
The very wnrstest kind; 
And C»mir's hi the closet, 
Because he wouldn't, mind. 
He pinched Matilda Agnes, 
And spoiled her waterfall, 
And spilled notul! the sawdust, 
And wasn't sorry 'ft all. 
I'll spank Mis* Itoso this evening, 
And tell her papa, too; 
She poured her cup of coffee 
Bight Into Mabel’s shoe. 
Fred bit his tongue so awful— 
I don’t know what. I'm 'bout— 
I’ll send for Dr. Scissors, 
And let him cut It out. 
To-morrow's Topsy’s birthday— 
She’s twenty-five, 1 guess— 
I'll have to go to Boston 
And buy her ’ceptiou d’ess. 
I haven’t any pennies, though— 
I threw ’em flown the well; 
I wish 1 had a pocket full. 
Like Tom ’n’ sister Nell. 
I went down In the kitchen. 
To make poor Uepsey's tea? 
And Bridget wouldn't, let me— 
She’s cross as sho can be. 
I wish tfht 'd get the measles, 
And whoopin' cough, ’n’ chills, 
I wouldn’t give her nothing 
But popper-sauce 'n' pills. 
My finger's hurting drefful— 
I pinched It In tho door; 
I wish they’d get my needle— 
1 dropped it on tile floor. 
There’s Topsey's dress to finish. 
And heaps of work to do j 
I guess I’ll e’lloct my fam’ly 
And move In grandpa’s shoe. 
[Youth’s Lorni anion. 
-—- 
LETTERS TO YOUNG RURALISTS.- No. 16. 
FROM COUSIN JOHNNIE. 
Cousin Johnnie feels a little sail to-c'ay, and 
therefore is going to cheer her spirits by writ¬ 
ing to her little cousins. It seems strange to 
think the words 1 write hero, by my Window, 
this sweet spring day, will go out and travel 
miles and miles till they roach you, and will 
speak, to nearly all of you at once- Just as if wo 
were all together, and I really talking to yon 
You thought Cousin John nib had forgotten you, 
did you not,? And no wonder, for It is a long, 
long time since she talked to you before; but 
she has been extremely busy and not, very well, 
and now, though she has a little more leisure, 
writing is quite, an exertion. 
How i should like to peep in upon you all in 
your different homes; it is so much nicer to see 
people when we talk to them. Bo many of you 
have told me about yourselves, I don’t think it 
would bo hard to find you out. And now J 
think of it, I have never told you anything 
about, tho place f llvo in. it is a village num¬ 
bering two thousand inhabitants,about twenty- 
eight miles from New York City, and is built on 
’a point of land which ruus down between two 
creeks. Hence, It was formerly called Middle- 
town Point. But ns our letters used often to be 
sent by mistake to Middletown, a village a few 
miles from here, it was decided to have the 
name changed. Some wanted it called New 
Aberdeen, which was the name given it years 
and years ago by tho little Scotch colony who 
first settled It. Others wanted it Mtttuwan, n 
contraction of the Indian name, Mattcavxm, 
and this was finally decided upon. But now we 
are not much better off than before, for our let¬ 
ters quite often take a trip to MntlMxvan, New 
York, before they reach uh. 
The village Is built, principally, on ono straight 
street nearly three-quarters of a mile long, and 
although there aim not many ornamental houses 
this long, shady street, looks very pretty and 
pleasant in summer as one rides through it. 
We have a very One school for both sexes, called 
Olenwood Institute, where Cousin Johnnie 
teaches music. I wish some of my little cousins 
who think of going to boarding school would 
decide to come here. I know they could not 
help liking it,. The principal, Dr. Hamilton, is 
very kind, and treats his scholars just like his 
own family. He docs not care to take more 
than twenty-five boarding scholars, beiides his 
day scholars, which is certainly far pleasanter 
for the boarders than when there are so many. 
As we are only about two miles and a half from 
Keyport, which is situated on Raritan Bay, 
those who are fond of salt water bathing have 
plenty of-opportunities fur enjoying it. But 
the boys do not care to go so far for sport, so 
they swim in the creek which runs up past our 
village from the bay. Many of the lit tle girls 
and some ladies, however, patronize the bath¬ 
ing house; but it is rather small, I think, for 
much sport. Our boys have a ball club, and 
some of them are very good players. They some¬ 
times challenge the bail clubs of other villages, 
and then there is a grand time. I can’t say, 
though, that I am very partial to bail playing, 
for one of our brightest boys, one who was a 
real pleasure in the school, has been obliged to 
go on crutches for several months on account 
of an injury received in playing ball. 
Our boy* and girls have a Literary Society, in 
imitation of their elders, where they have com¬ 
positions, reading, etc.; and I think they have 
a. pood time generaUy. Some of them are very 
©lever, and I export, ono of these days, will bo 
ornamenst to the grown-up Literary Society. 
But I must stop; for my letter Is getting so 
long, Mr. Rural will not pul it in, I am afraid. 
•-— ■ 
ilN INCIDENT. 
A young man went into tho office of one of 
the largest dry goods importing houses in New 
York, and asked for a situation. He was told 
to come again. 
Going down Broadway that, same afternoon, 
opposite the As tor House, an old apple woman 
trying to cross the Street was struck hy a stage, 
knocked down, and her basket of apples sent 
scattering in the gutter. 
This young mao stopped out from tiio passing 
crowd, helped up the old lady, put her apples 
Into her basket, and went on his way, forgetting 
the incident. 
When he called again upon the importers he 
was asked to name his price, which was ac¬ 
cepted immediately, and he went to work. 
Nearly a year afterward be was called aside 
one day and asked if he remembered assist ing 
an old apple woman in Broadway to pick up a 
basket of apples and, much to his surprise, 
learned why in* obtained a situation when mare 
than one hundred others were desiring the same 
place. 
Young man, you little know who sees your 
acts of kindness. The eyes of others see and 
admire what they will not take the trouble to 
do themselves.— A mcriran Messenger. 
-♦■»» 
CAT’S CRADLE. 
Who among tho little folk* who have played 
the familiar game of "Cat’s Cradle,” or as some 
have called it., “Scratch Cradle,” can tell the 
origin of this simplo game? And would they 
like to know? 
A friend <>r ours waa recently looking over a 
copy of an old Bible, printed in London, in the 
year 1599, called tho "Breeches Bible," and 
among many quaint expressions, camo across 
those words“ And she brought forth her first 
born son, and laid him in a cratch." 
Going to Webster’s largo dictionary to look 
out this word, we found the following defini¬ 
tion: “Cratch, a manger or open frame for 
hay. The childish amusement called making 
cratch-cradle la an Intended representation of 
tho llguro of the cratch."- Kpiflcopnlfmi. 
—---- 
Wisdom an.I truth, tho offspring of the sky, 
are Immortal; but cunning and deception, the 
meteors of the earth, alter glittering for a 
moment, must pass away. 
m fitter. 
ILLUSTRATED REBU8. No. 12. 
J3F” Answer In two weeks. 
SQUARE-WORD.-No. 1. 
1. An opportune haven for a weary traveler. 
3. An Egyptian plant, the seeds of which are 
aromatic. 
3. To lie on the side. 
4. The religion of Mohammed. 
5. Third person singular form of a verb which 
Hamlet told the Queen he know not. 
Answer in two weeks. G. D. Butler. 
--I* .-;— 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA.—No. 8. 
I am composed of 13 letters: 
My 1,13, 5,6 is a gem. 
My 10, 8, 3, 13 i3 a sacerdotal cloak. 
My 4,11, 9,3 is an army. 
My 7,13 is a personal pronoun. 
My whole is the name of an instrument. 
Answer in two weeks. A. M. a. 
- ♦-*-* - 
PROBLEM,—No, 8. 
The sides of a triangular lot are 4, 5 and 6 
chains; tho angles formed by drawing lines 
from the vertices to a tree arc equal. Required, 
tho distance from the tree to each corner of the 
triangle. S. G. Cagwin. 
Answer in two weeks. 
-♦■«"*- 
PUZZLER ANSWERS.-May 3. 
Puzzle No. 7,—Flying Fish. 
Illustrated Proverb No. 4.— “He who 
don’t beat the horse beats the saddle.” 
Invisible Friends No. 1.—1, Hattie; 2, Ira; 
3, Asa; 4, Oscar; 5, Dan; 6, Dora; 7, Myra; 8, 
Ruth; 9, Ida. 
