M OOBE’S R U B A L NEW-YORKER. 
, 2 
A BOOK OF POEMS.'. 
BY EBEX E, REXFORD. 
To-nxv I found. In a drawer 
Where I hft<l not looked for years, 
A volume of little poems; 
My eves grew dim with tears 
As I turned t he yellow pages 
And found sumo daisies dead, 
That marked tlie Inst sweet poem 
My darling ever read. 
How well 1 can remember 
That afternoon In May ! 
We saw the white-sailed vessels 
Go drifting down the bay. 
We heard the robins singing, 
And all the world was fair 
With sunshine not more golden 
Than was my durllng’S hair. 
She read me this quaint, sweet poem, 
Her little hand In mine; 
I can hear tlie ocean sobbing, 
And see the blue warns Bhlno, 
And, like some dream of sorrow, 
The years burn passed away, 
And 1 am by her side again 
This cheerful summer day. 
1 look in her eye*, and listen 
To her voice so soft and sweet, 
As her lips this sweet, strange fancy 
Of the Poet’s brain repeat, 
And think that love Is it poem, 
So old and yet so new;— 
The sweetest of all sweet poems 
To tlioHu who make it true. 
Ah! but the poem Is ended; 
The benutful dream Is done; 
The fairest flowers are the frailest 
Of all flowers under the sun. 
My book of life has Its poems, 
Hut the sweetest poem there 
Is the memory of my darling, 
Safe where the angels nre. 
<®ur j&targ-Styltyr. 
OUR CITY FRIENDS IN THE COUNTRY. 
BY RUTH 1 .KE. 
The spring was so tardy In her coining, that 
wo had only a glimpse of her in her bridal 
robes ere she vanished from sight, and the fair, 
rejoicing June brought us the flowers that 
should have crowned the bride of the year. Hut 
w<J weave our garlands all the same, and grow 
strong and hopeful once more. 
While the air was yet fragrant with apple 
blossoms, we received dainty epistles from our 
far-off city friends, reminding us that the sea¬ 
son of their annual flitting was near at hand. 
Somehow, they had quite forgotten us in the 
winter time, when all the glory and beauty of 
summer was hidden away under a white mantle 
of snow; but Just now, when the woods had 
donned their robes of brightest green, and the 
white plumes of the loeusLS were waving in the 
breeze, t hey remember us and our Eden ; they 
send us loving messages, and recall with delight 
the beautiful panorama of hills and lake and 
shore which so enchanted them in t he su minor. 
Well, i! ;is a pretty picture, and in our egotism 
wo almost fancy the bluo sky never framed a 
lovelier one, and seldom pause long enough to 
admire It without wishing that all the friends 
whom we love might occasionally share our 
pleasure. Wo oven lent a credulous car to the 
oft-repeated assurances of our last summer's 
guests, that their sojourn here was perfectly 
charming, and that they should take back to 
the city with their restored health, only pleas¬ 
ant memories of all the restful, happy days. 
We know the dear lilt to children grew rosy and 
sweet in the joyous freedom of their country 
life; but in the meantime, how fared the in¬ 
mates of the farm house? 
Let us sec. We have our remembrances too, 
but it seems to us that we were nearly in the 
same plight, that a little four-year-old friend of 
ours once found horself. She was an especial 
pet. of her grandmother, whom she had been 
visiting, and on her return, when asked if she 
had a good time, replied :“ Yes, I hud a good 
time and a bad time. 1 had a good time dress¬ 
ing my dull, playing with the kittens and Look¬ 
ing over grandmother's drawers, but a very bad 
time when, for some misdemeanor, 1 received 
a severe switching." 
So we were both glad and sorry ; glad to know 
that others were happy and free from care and 
wo have pleasant visions Of the twilight re¬ 
unions, when oar long, weary day's work was 
done, and lor a. brief season we could enjoy the 
merry songs and stories: but wo recollect more 
distinctly the wearisome toil entailed on tlie 
mistress of the mansion, and the unusual de¬ 
mands on her time and strength for the suitable 
entertainment, for weeks, of a small army of 
hired men, members of the family, and numer¬ 
ous guests. 
Jt. happened in this wise:—Tn June, we were 
apprised that a party of friends from a distant 
city would visit us, and with them some stran¬ 
gers whom we had never met. What a commo¬ 
tion reigned at once! To be sure, the house had 
a good, orthodox cleaning in early spring; but 
houses have a wonderful knack of getting 
dusty and out of order in short notice in the 
summer, when amid the press of other work 
minor things elude tlie housekeeper's atten¬ 
tion. A general inspection from attic to cellar 
seemed indispensable. The spare rooms were 
duly arranged for the expected guests, and at 
last we surveyed our domestic kingdom with a 
sigh of relief, when the froshly-cut flowers lent 
a finishing grace to the rooms we meant should 
look cheerful and homo-like to the teachers. 
At the appointed time, John drove to the 
station to moot them, and very soon the old 
bays dashed up to the door with a merry, laugh¬ 
ing load. Between hand shakings and kisses 
for the old friends and greetings for the stran¬ 
gers who were genial and affable, we almost 
forgot our misgivings lost, our simple, country 
ways should Inspire them with contempt. Half 
an hour later, we stood aghast at the quantity 
of luggago left in the porch. We thought we 
knew where we could put each guest; but just 
where we should stow those immense “ Sarato¬ 
gas,” was a vexed question for the instant. In 
vain the two stoutest men on the place essayed 
to get them all up stairs. With a limited por¬ 
ter education, they were not equal to the task. 
The ancient architect of the farm house never 
dreamed of such traveling wardrobes when he 
planned the somewhat narrow stairway; and 
to the evident annoyance of the indies, the 
most ponderous ones occupied retired corners 
of the lower hall. These matters of the toilet 
being arranged, we returned to our guests. The 
new acquaintances were refined, intelligent peo¬ 
ple, with whom we soon found ourselves on 
excellent ter/ns, and for a few days all went 
merrily. 
The farmer and his sons spent all the time 
they could spare in pointing out objects of in¬ 
terest in the vicinity, and each day the horses 
and light wagon were in readiness to convey 
the company to and fro in their search after 
pleasure. If the housewife, left a captive In tlie 
hot kitchen, longed to follow in their wake, 
when tlie woods and dells were luring her with 
wondrous beauty, she stifled ail regrets and 
gathered such crumbs of comfort as she might 
from the reflection that for two or three hours 
at least, she could sweep, dust, cook and pre¬ 
pare the dinner without interruption. 
Our friends had come from homes of afflu¬ 
ence, and accustomed to the Bervlce of others, 
had no idea of the labor required to keep even 
their own rooms in order, so they lent us no 
helping hand. Their traveling attire bore wit¬ 
ness t.o the dusty Journey, and as no competent 
laundress lived near us, we could do no less 
than offer our services instead. Though, like 
the lilies of the Held, the ladies toiled not., yet 
they were dally arrayed In fine linen, with nu¬ 
merous ruffles and laces; and the gentleruen'.'- 
whitc suits, looking delightfully cool for a 
morning walk, had a ooar affinity for t he road¬ 
side dust, and the wearers returned' in disgust 
with the dew-spangled grass, while the soiled 
garments swelled tlie contents of the clothes- 
basket. Their afternoon siestas enabled them 
to enjoy moonlight walks and rides till a late 
hour of the night, while we, weary and exhaust¬ 
ed, would gladly havo sought our couch at night. 
The hired men required an early breakfast; 
but our guests seldom made their appearance 
before 8 A. M,; so, to make it possible for us to 
prepare a second table, we were obliged to rise 
long before t he spin. Butter could only be cool 
and golden by being churned ift the early morn¬ 
ing, and the work of the dairy claimed our first 
care. Under so many burdens, our energies 
began to flag. 11 was I mposslblo for one woman 
and her little maid to perform the work for so 
large a family without doing themselves injus- 
t ice, and no additional help could be procured. 
Conscious that our reputation for hospitality 
was at stake, and lest some “ Sam,y TeaZLB" 
should take to the city an ill report of our ways, 
we wore a smiling face and kept a brave heart. 
Yet, none of those people were exacting mu- 
desirous of causing extra trouble. They were 
ladies and gentlemen, whose companionship 
we should have highly enjoyed If our physical 
strength had been equal to our work: and the 
children were so bright and beautiful that wo 
could not. resist their loving ways nor refuse 
them our choicest flowers. 
The days lengthened Into weeks, and still our 
visitors lingered in the country. The blossom¬ 
ing clover fields beckoned the mowers to tlieir 
work, anil the haying could no longer be de¬ 
ferred, so the gentlemen of the party were left 
to their own devices. Tlie grand old maples 
had fur years been t he summer homes of nu¬ 
merous birds, and all about the yard the old 
farmer hud put up boxes for the use of his 
leathered friends, receiving a rich reward in the 
sweet concerts at early dawn. As our city 
sportsmen. In the absence of the stout rowers, 
could not fish, the polished rifles were brought 
out, and soon several of oxir beautiful pots lay 
dying on the front doorsteps. This, if not “ the 
la.<l straw on the camel's back,” was certainly 
a heavy one, and wo were almost indignant 
enough to lend each hunter a rake and send 
him to the hay field, regardless of his white 
hands and linen costume; but politeness over¬ 
ruled, and wo mildly suggested that a white 
paper should bo a target for future shots 1 These 
trilling annoyances were not allowed to mar 
their pleasure, and tboy sought amusement in 
their own way. At last, when autumn came, 
our patty, with many good wishes, bade us 
adieu; and with *he stimulus of necessity with¬ 
drawn, our remaining strength departed, and 
by weeks of illness we paid the penalty that 
nature demanded for our exertion. 
I Now, do you ask if these people must stay in 
1 the dust and turmoil of the city when so many 
of their kindred have pleasant country homes 
to which they mi ?lit go? Oh.no! We have no 
wish to defraud them of t heir birthright. The 
mountain air, the beautiful valleys and wood¬ 
land shades are free to all. Then let them come. 
We would only vary, somewhat, the manner of 
their coming and their staying. We ought to 
know each other better. Then need to learn 
that all farmers and their families are not 
coarse ana Illiterate—that agricultural pursuits, 
though requiring strong muscles and unfailing 
courage, do not detract from social nr moral 
worth. TFe should know that all city people 
arc not frivolous and conceited votaries of fash¬ 
ion. Dispute the fact a* wo will, the refinement 
and culture of polished society impart a charm¬ 
ing ease and grace of manner seldom acquired 
by a long residence in the country ; and a mon 
frequent and cordial intercourse would dispel 
much of the prejudice with which each class 
regards the Other. 
Having assured our city friends that they 
should occasionally share our rural pleasures, 
mid that on certain conditions we shall be de¬ 
lighted to entertain them, let us discuss the 
manner and time of their coming. Just here, 
it may be well to mention that our remarks do 
not apply to our poor city relatives. If they, by 
any fortunato chance, shall be able to stray out 
of the dust and beat of the city into the blessed 
country, they will not be so very much in Do¬ 
wny. Belonging to the great army of worker? 
themselves, they are generally helpful sort of 
people, and will not bo surprised that our busy 
farm life brings us »o few leisure hours. If need 
bo, the women could wait on themselves, the 
men could " paddle their own canoe." So these 
are welcome to come when and how they can,— 
but for the rich, whose moans are sufficiently 
ample to allow them to choose their summer re¬ 
sorts, we have arranged a different programme. 
Let them start as early In the season as possi¬ 
ble after their elegant centum OB arc ready, but 
go around by Saratoga or Niagara, by Newport. 
Long Branch, or any ot her sln ine of wcaltii and 
fashion. They can linger long at tlie seaside, 
so t hat, by no contingency, unless urgently in¬ 
vited, they will alight at the farm-house before 
haying and harvest are well over. By this time, 
the farmer and his Bonn may need recreation, 
and be jin.; v\ oary enough to lounge in the shade 
or bait hooks for inexperienced anglers. 
Let the travelers appear at our house with 
modcst-slrcd trunks that they can carry val¬ 
iantly up any farm-house stairs, and bring only 
their plainest garments--something serviceable 
and comfortable, that will not require the skill 
of a professional laundress on ironing day. With 
the fine clothes left in the city homes they 
should leave some of their luxurious tastes, so 
thnt our country customs will not seem so very 
rustic. 1 he arrangements suitable for a Fifth 
Avenue mansion, where numerous well-trained 
servants attend to every detail, would bo en¬ 
tirely out of place in the average country home, 
whore the mistress is fortunate if she can se¬ 
cure the services of o)m competent hired girl 
through the season. 
When we visit our cit y, cousins, we conform 
to their ways. Though every bone ache with 
enforced idleness, we do not roam about the 
bouse at 5 o'clock in the morning, as we do at 
home, but quiet ly await the summons to a lute 
breakfast, dine at our usual supper hour, and 
towards bedt ime sit down to the tea table. This 
is all right. We ought not to disturb the usual 
routine of our friends, and if it should not 
please us we can return to the country and its 
good, old-fashioned ways: but it is only fail 
that they should adopt our mode of living dur¬ 
ing tlieir stay with us. If they were boarders, 
our mutual compact might regulate those mat¬ 
ters : but being visitors, we can only trust to 
their courtesy for a ready observance of things 
which may seem trifling to them, but are really 
essential to our comfort. 
Remembering the lessons of last year, we con¬ 
fess that much of our fatigue and discomfort 
w.-ui due to the fact tbut we tried to do too 
much in the line of entertainment, and this 
summer we propose to establish it new order of 
thing?. The domestic muebino can only run 
smoothly when all secure regular hours for 
sleep; so, inooniighl or starlight, everybody 
about our house will expect to retiro by 10 
o'clock at night. A vigorous ring of the bell 
shall rouse every sleeper at 0 o’clock in the 
morning, with a warning note that breakfast 
waiteth for no tardy guest . As our hired men 
are very clean, respectable yeomen, we shall all 
oat at an ample table—patrician and plebean 
for the time, on a common level. The table 
linen shall he spotless, but the food thereon, 
though abundant, will not consist of too many 
kinds at once, but be varied enough for health. 
No more shall we be miserable over vain efforts 
to rival the dinners of "HeUnonioo,” but our 
bill of fare shall not disgrace the thorough 
country training received in our mother's kitch¬ 
en. The traditional pork and beans grace not 
our table in summer; but instead, the grass-fed 
beeves and fat Soul hdmvns roaming over our 
pastures shall furnish the juicy moats that lend 
strength and vigor to the feeble. Vegetable? 
fresh from the garden; fruits just gathered 
from tree arid vine; milk, cream and butter 
brought forth from the coolest of cellars, with 
bread faultless to country eyes, shall atone for 
the absence of rich pastry and highly-seasoned 
viands. 
Sometimes, having put everything nicely m 
trim for the day, when John drives to the door 
for his usual "load, the housewife will just 
quietly don her bonnet and join the party; and 
when fishing is to be the sport, she will try her 
skill with the anglers. It the sportsmen will 
spare onr beautiful singing birds in the door- 
yard, they can hie to the grand old woods, 
w here the partridge and squirrel may tempt 
their random shots, while we guide the ladles 
to the silvery brook in.search of tho loveliest 
Terns and mosses. Oh, we shall have glorious 
times in the country thl& summer! With rid¬ 
ing, boating, picnics and woodland rambles, we 
shall all be young together. What if work in 
the kitchen does go the least bit awry, now and 
then? With our renewed health and vigor, 
things can soon be “ put to rights.” After two 
or three weeks of such high carnivtil, which is 
about as long as our friends could reasonably 
expect busy people to be perfectly amiable and 
hospitable, they should take their departure, 
leaving with us pleasant memories of our mu- 
I tuallyhappy days. 
BEFORE AND BEHIND. 
There was a soul one eve autumnal sailing 
Beyond the earth’s dark bars, 
Towards the land of sunsets never paling, 
Towards the heaven's sen of stars. 
Behind there w»w a wake of billows tossing, 
Before a glory lay. 
O happy soul! with all sail set, just crossing 
Into tho fur away : 
The gloom and gleam, tho calmness and the strife, 
Were death before thee, and behind thee life. 
And as that soul went onward, sweetly speeding 
Unto Its home and light. 
Repentance made it sorrowful exceeding, 
Faith made it wondrous bright; 
Repentance dark with shadowy recollections 
And longing* unsufficed. 
Faith white and pure with sunniest affections 
Full from the face of Christ. 
But both across the sun-besilvered tide 
Helped to tlie haven where the heart would ride. 
. - -+-*-■*. - 
LIFE’S LIMITATIONS. 
Gifted with noble tendency to climb 
Yet weak at the. same time, 
Faith is a kind of parasitic plnnt 
That grasps the nearest stem with tendril rings; 
And as the climate and the soil may grant, 
So is the sort of tree to which it clings. 
[Thomas Hood. 
--- 
DOES GOD ANSWER PRAYER 1 
There are two striking cases—one in the Old 
Testament and the other in the Now—of men 
bolowd of God, praying perseveringly and with 
the utmost Intensity and fervor for something 
which was denied t.uem. An answer to a prayer 
is not nccessarilly an affirmative answer. It 
may be an answer in the negative—an answer 
of the wiser love that secs further than we do 
and ictuses in mercy. Vet, there are some peo¬ 
ple who talk as though, if prayer were not 
always and of course answered in the affirma¬ 
tive, and the tiling wo susk given, there were no 
use in praying. “Who is the Lord, that we 
should serve Him, and what profit shall we have 
to pray to Him?" lint prayers are often an¬ 
swered in the affirmative. Tho voice of Chris¬ 
tian experience, through all time, hus united in 
calling our God “a very present help in lime of 
(rouble.” Vary present , either to remove the 
trouble or help us to rise above It. The true 
doctrine Is, that God our Father is a reality—a 
living, loving presence—throbbing with sympa¬ 
thy, but with plans and purposes, and knowl¬ 
edge of the situation infinitely transcending 
ours; that He is near to us, hears our prayer, * 
considers it tenderly and patiently, and does 
for us the very* best that iB possible consistently 
with tho best, good of all. That it. is not always 
possible for God to grant what we ask is made 
certain by the most interesting and most awful 
prayer ever left on record—the prayer offered in 
extreme anguish by His only and wtdl-*eloved 
Son. It was to attain the sympathetic insight 
of a personal experience that our Lord passed 
through depths so deep that no son or daughter 
of Adam ever could sink below Him. In the 
awful passage Ho felt the same agonized ina¬ 
bility to endure that we feel, and called out as 
we do for relief; but with the controlling sense 
of a nobler purpose which He preferred even to 
that, present relief. And in this sense every 
true prayer is answered. For when wo pray 
truly we always do In our deepest heart, in our 
higher and better nature, so confide in our 
lleavon]y Father that wc prefer His will even 
to the most important clamor of our own wild 
desires.— Mrs, Harriet Bcccfier Stoive. 
- +++ - 
THE RELIGION OF OUTWARD NATURE. 
In our ardor for spiritual religion we have 
neglected too much the religion which springs 
from nature. Spiritual religion alone leaves 
part of our nature unsatisfied,—all that largo 
region of imagination and feelings which are 
kindled into awe and joy by the influences of 
natural beauty, by ihe activity and change, by 
the passion and calm of nature. The poets have 
siezed on tide region and made it their own, 
and it might be called the region of natural 
poetry. It has lost its true name, which is, the 
region of the religion of nature. It is considered 
a? the realm in which beauty and sublimity, and 
a hundred other abstractions are revealed: it 
has ceased, practically, to lie considered as the 
realm in which God is revealed. We coniine the 
revelation of God to the spiritual truths dis¬ 
closed in Christianity. It is not too much to say 
that that is a great practical mistake- There are 
two books of revelation,'—the book of nature 
and the book of God’s speech to man's spirit. 
When the latter succeeded the former, it did 
not intend to push the religion derived from 
nature away forever, but to supplement it. 
Both are to be retained by us, only one naturally 
was to be higher than the other. But Lh<* over¬ 
whelming Importance given to spiritual religion 
has removed out of the sphere of our religious 
thought the religion of nature. Consequently, 
the study of nature by scientific men, and the 
contemplation of nature by poetic men, have 
both become irreligious.— Stopford -4. Brooke. 
-—■*-*-*.-- 
The work of God must be nearer to us than 
our friends, dearer to us than our liberty, and 
pleasanter to us than all earthly comforters. 
