9 
• 1 \ 
OOBE’S BUBAL NEW-YORKER 
■323 
Jiiult^’ fjoittfolio. 
NO LETTERS. 
I SAY at morn, “ I shall have one to-day 
I say at night, " 1 shall have one to-morrow;" 
But day and night go creeping slow away, 
And leave me with my sorrow. 
And is he sick ? or is he dead, or changed ? 
Or, haply, haa ho learned to love another ? 
If I could know him careless or estranged. 
My pride my love might smother. 
Last night, indeed, I dreamed a letter came, 
Ah! welootner than any first May blossom ! 
And then I heard my mother call my name 
And hid it Ln my bosom. 
A ml, cheated, woke, and heard the night wind rave 
And hid my wet eyes m my lonely pillow; 
And dreamed again, and saw u nameless grnve 
Half hidden by a willow! 
[Miss Laura O. Redden. 
-»•»»■■ - - ■ 
MY HOUSE-PLANT MANIA. 
BY MBS. B. 0. NUDE. 
John Smith haa hla likings and J, Mrs. John 
Smith have mine. He prefers a pipe to any¬ 
thing else earthy; 1, woman-like, am fond of 
flowers. I took occasion to mention this to 
John, one day, in the summer of 1872. Ills an¬ 
swer was, “Wo’vo only a bit of spare ground, 
Mrs. Smith, after putting in the garden sauce, 
and on that 1 propose to grow catnip, sage and 
wormwood, and the like. They’ll never come 
amiss to you, Mrs. Smith— neper. A woman 
that's bringing up six children, and may-he 
more, all in a row, will find more need for herbs 
than for flowers, lu my way of t hinking.” 
I did not like that word “never." As though 
I was going to be steeping catnip and sag a for- 
cvtrl I then and there decided that f would 
show John Smith what I could do in the line 
of home-plants. I would make no demands on 
fits dirt; I could procure a richer article from 
the woods- Accordingly, when he was otf on 
professional duties next day, the boys and I 
brought borne a bushel of good, black dirt from 
the woods. The next question was, How to 
get flower jars. I knew it. would be useless to 
speak to John about them ; he would be sure 
to speak about the checkered pants anil cop- 
per-toed shoes that were needed, if I did. I 
thought a moment, then 1 made a rash leap for 
the rag-bag. I caught a pair of pants and coat 
Of John's that ought to have been turdo over 
for Jo and Dick. I hurried thorn in for fear I 
would repent before it whb too late. The chil¬ 
dren were at school. BiilDaur was ” ibovo 
sich,” and—believe it or not, as you like—I 
took them to a crockery st ore myself and got 
in return live nice flower Jars. 
When Jennie crime home from school I dis¬ 
patched her around the neighborhood after 
"house-plant slips.” She soon returned with 
a host of them—more tiian enough to 1111 twenty 
such jars. I stood perplexed, when Bridget 
poked her head in at the door, held up our 
eotninon white sugar bowl, and said, “ Faith, 
ma’am, an’ here's yer sliuggar bole, wid a bit 
braked out o' the aide. It must ’a bln the 
yowwirn er meself that did It, ahure.” 
I frit like saying, “Thank you, Bhidoet, this 
is just right for alipa." Bhidoet darted an in¬ 
quisitive look at the flower jars, and said, “If 
ye please, ma'am, one o’ thorn'd be mighty line 
for sett in’ yaste." I didn't toll her what they 
were for; J simply pointed to the hole in the 
bottom of them. She said, “Indeed, an’ a flue 
muss ’twould be, afthcr rankin’ that,” and 
went out with both bands up. I proceeded to 
illl my jars and sugar bowl with dirt; then, 
with care, I put in the slips, all they would 
hold. Then I stood in mute despair. A happy 
thought struck me; I went to the kitchen. 
“Bridget," I said, “ have you any more broken 
dishes?" 
" Niver a bit, ma’am, hev I braked sin’ 1 cum 
inter this 'ouee, this twelvemonth gone.” 
“ I thought there might be a cup or a bowl 
that had a piece broken out that would do to 
start plants In,” I said, imploringly. 
“ riowly Vargin protect, us, ma'am, of yoes 
kin be after usln ov ’em ; they’s lots under the 
woodshed floor. 1 kape a mlsain 'em, and as 
fast as iver 1 miss ’em I jist tako a poke undher 
there, and Indade there's where I And ’em, 
shure. The younguns is allers under feet wid a 
dish o’ bread an' milk, ye know, an’ sich delf 
as yees git this side o' the wather won't bear 
bangin'.” 
At the end of this speech she lifted a plank 
In the woodshed floor, and what a sight met 
my eyes. My soup tureen, ten cups and live 
bowls, all broken just right for plants, besides 
hundreds of little fragments of a year’s growth. 
I confess to a slight twinge aa I held up the 
soup tureen. But then, we didn’t make soup 
often, and it would be bo nice for slips. 
Bridoet watched raeoloselyas I selected the 
ones which I thought would do and ordered 
tier to wash them and bring them to the sitting- 
room. She bowed me out with true Irish po¬ 
liteness, and a few moments after came in with 
a dish-pan full of broken china, looking as 
happy as “ St. Patrick’s day in the evening." 
I took the dishes; I didn't really feel like saying 
“thank you,” this time. 
A moment after I heard a slight noise at the 
door, and before I could look around, a red, 
Irish hand appeared before ray astonished 
vision with our best gravy bowl clasped tightly 
in it by the handle that was left — the other teas 
gone. A voice, with a chuckle under it, said, 
“The Lord helps them 'at helps theirselves, 
ma’am. I was jist i shovon’ this eer about on 
the shelf a minit since an' it—an' it smoked 
right agin the pitcher handle, an’ there's the 
pitcher, ma’am. I thought nray-be they'd do 
fur yer dirt an’ stuff." 
Why did 1 not discharge her then and there? 
Poor .John ! 1 pity him now when 1 think of 
it. The money required to replace those dishes 
would have kept. Inin in cigars for a week. 
However, Jennie came with the slips. 1 man¬ 
aged to find places for them all. Some of them 
wore crowded at first, but by industriously 
working up rags for the rag-bag and smiling 
placidly upon Bridget every time she broke a 
dish, I soon got jars and broken earthen cuough 
to hold quite an array of plants. John would 
scarcely notice them at first, but lie grow 
strangely tender of them as they began to bud 
and blossom. I did not protend to notice it, 
but it gratified me. As the cold weather came 
on he used to help un* arrange them before I he 
fire, once or twice he hinted that it wa3 a little 
expensive to keep Are nights, but l looked at 
him John says lie can always road my thoughts 
— I thought “cigars" then, and lie knew it 
somehow, for, ever after ho paid great defer¬ 
ence to my house-plan ts—took off tits hat to 
them every time he came in. 
But oh, the vanity of all things earthly, es¬ 
pecially things that hurt by freezing. As 1 sit ' 
to-day, locking at my threadbare carpet and 
thinking of the pretty colors that went into 
the rag-hag, while I can scarcely scrape up a 
pound of anything towards a new carpet 1 turn 
to look at my houSoplauts. But where are 
they? Each separate plant seems to rise from 
its grave in tiie cellar to confront me with the 
reproach that while I slept the thief came. 
One night — that long-to-bo-remembered 
Saturday night before the twonty-aecoml of 
December—came the enemy. The evening set 
in warm nud pleasant. That night the mer¬ 
cury fell forty degrees. Bridgets have no 
time to build sitting-room Arcs on Sunday 
mornings. A few siloes of ham sizzle over a 
slow kitchen lire, Just for effect, till they got 
home from mass. I awoke at eight. I nudged 
John ; it was only a nudge, hut it landed him 
in the middle of the floor—took him bysurpriso 
in the midst ot a tremendous Bnore. “John," 
l said, “John, don’t you know thero’s a change 
lu the weather? ” 
“ Well," said lie, provokingly, “ Micro ought to 
he in my shirt— it's Sunday." 
“ I* it Sunday, John ?—then Bridget’s likely 
gone to mass, and no fire in the sitting-room 
and my house-plants are freezing! ” 
“So am I,” said JOHN, quietly. 
1 Saw at a glance (hat lie was in one of his im¬ 
movable spells. I don’t think he exactly rel¬ 
ished the Idea of getting up so suddenly. He 
looked very much like a man who has got an 
overdose of mustard down. I trembled, hug¬ 
ged the baby close, and called it, “ mamma’s 
darling little—'Fuchsia." 
It took John a long tlrno to build the (Ire. 
At last ho looked in, and with a half-pitying 
accent said, “ I hope you’ll behave yourself and 
not take on about 'cm, M artha.” 
“ John, you villain! You don't mean to say 
my house-plants are dead ? " 
“ All f rozen to death." 
Ho said this in a cool, decided way, as though 
he know that a row was inevitable, and hail 
prepared for it.” 
- 4 * » 
UNHALLOWED RESIGNATION. 
WHAT a habit we have of crediting all our ills 
to Providence! We are never willing to admit 
that our own inactivity, fully and self-love have 
wrought out the dirt* results over which we 
mourn. We only see the shipwreck of our llveB; 
we only hoar the voices of the storm, and in¬ 
stead of owning that it was our indifferent, and 
unsikllfol navigation that brought our craft 
-upon the rocks, wo fold our hands nno cry out, 
blindly, “Strange and mysterious are thy ways, 
0 Providence!” It is well to have faith and 
trust. It is well to be resigned to trials that 
cannot bo avoided; but it is not well to hide 
our talents in a napkin, to lake our fill of ease 
and pleasure, and bow down to the gods of pride 
and fashion, then shrink back from tho conso- 
quencesand say that the work is none of ours. 
Some of ns really imagine that we are]euffer- 
ing the will of the Lord, because the flour bar¬ 
rel is empty and our coat out at. the elbows, 
when a little more energy, a lit tle more self- 
denial, a little less folding iff the hands for 
rest—these would raise us out of the slough of 
poverty, and set us on our feet,, crowned with 
the gift of a goodly heritage. We cat rich, 
unwholesome food, keep late hours, transgress 
all the laws of health, and when we pay the 
penalty with shattered nerves and broken con¬ 
stitution, we wonder why we are not strong and 
vigorous as our neighbor who has lived moder¬ 
ately all his days. Because the neck and arms 
of our tender infant? are soft and white and 
dimpled, wo let them go bare and unprotected, 
then, when some day wo leave the Utile one out 
under the snow, we murmur that our Father 
hath been unkind. In too many such cases, 
with a little !es3 pride and a little more flannel 
the family circle might bo kept unbroken for 
many a year. x. n. 
-+■.+.■ - - 
Pumpktn pie sociables are resorted to by the 
“upper crust” of the Minnesota rural districts. 
Hauling for f§<ntng. 
WILLY BY THE BROOK, 
Willy lay by the tlltnpllng brook 
Where the sun hart lulu before; 
And, strange to say, when Us place ho took 
The spot just brightened the more. 
The birtlg were singing In t he bluo 
A song that was like a hymn; 1 
While the baby ducklings, two by two, 
Strayed into the water to swim. 
“ Hetgho!” sighed Willy, “ I cannot fly, 
Nor even so much us flout ; 
And as for singing like robins, why 
I never could raise a note. 
“ But I can play on my pipe,” said he 
And soon the music eiunc - 
So clear and sweet, so blithesome free 
That it, put the birds to shame. 
The baby ducklings softly splashed, 
The roblmt yet. harder tried, 
The sprinkled grass lu sunlight flashed 
As It nodded by Willy’s side. 
And, before be knew, he was floating free 
On u sparkling river of thought; 
While the birds in tins air came down to boo 
Wbnt wonder the pipe had wrought. 
And still the music softly rose, 
Btlli Willy was floating free— 
And the little ducks, with their funny toes, 
Were happy ns happy could be. 
[.St. Nicholas for November. 
- -♦♦♦ - 
LETTER TO THE CHILDREN. 
My Dear Children :—I've b©en wonderfully 
Interest,oil in reading your letters from week to 
week in the Rural New-Yorker, and whilo I 
noticed I lie interest slackened for a few weeks 
since, I was gratified to seen nmvstnrt in the 
way of letter-writing in the last number, I'm 
suro if tho young folks' column la not filled by 
them, it dues not look as if it wero appreciated 
as it ought to bo. I am very glad t o hour t’ORA’8 
inquiry of tho girls, of Lizzie’s flowers and 
chickens, Ella’s enjoyment of school, Min¬ 
nie's music lessons, and tho temperance lec¬ 
ture of Sampson. All these arc subjects worth 
discussing, and I hope many will lake part in 
them. Now L’vo read about what Interests you 
most, and l fee! sure you will like to hear what 
I am doing, as I am your friend, though wo’vo 
never met. This is one of the rural districts, 
and tho families arc scattered, as they always 
axe ln the country, likewise having loss ad¬ 
vantages to help the young people. Early in 
the spring, before the snow-hanks had melted 
away anil while the roads were very muddy, I 
invited tho young people and children, Ui tho 
vicinity, to my homo, that If possible we might 
organize a lit I lo society that would be ft help to 
one another. The invitation was accepted by 
clovon, and wo formed what wo afterwards 
named The Improvement licrnd. Rapidly our 
numbers increased until wo had forty-oight 
names on tho roll. It was really surprising 
whore so many camo from. All received ;t wel¬ 
come, and as our society Increased in size It 
also tliii in interest, and our meetings, hold 
every Wednesday evening, became very pleas¬ 
ant and profitable. Our aim was to do good 
and work for the right. Wo elect our ofllcors 
aa other societies do, and work upon system, 
thereby having good order. The exercises vary 
from week to week and are adapted to each 
member, for wo admit all ages, and they range 
from seven to seventeen. Wo have tho regular 
work of the Band—’declamations, recitations, 
select reading—while debates and papers arc a 
monthly occurrence. Singing from the beauti¬ 
ful School Diadem makes all things pass off 
lively anil pleasant, as we all know t hat music 
gladdens tho heart. We've had one very inter¬ 
esting temperance meeting, and I think Samp¬ 
son would have enjoyed it, for it was strong 
and right, to the point. 
Of late we have been gathering books and 
papers to Bend to the prisoners, but space for¬ 
bids me writing about it now. We are a merry 
set, have fun a* well, and can but feel that 
there line been improvement wrought—and we 
hop© for a more marked change in all. In t.he 
summer wo had a vacation of four weeks. 
Well, I’ve written you quite a long letter, and 
perhaps some other time I will write you more 
of our working; will surely if I know any of 
you will like to hear from us. Ln the mean¬ 
time I hope to pee the Young Folks’ column, 
which the editor no kindly appropriates, well 
filled. Don't let a lack of energy and perse¬ 
verance keep you from writing. I’ll close by 
giving you a part of one of our best songs. It 
helps us, and I hope it will you as well: 
" Work while in youthful prime, 
Work while the heart Is gay; 
Work for the harvest time, 
Work while you may. 
When earth Is moist In springty rain, 
In furrowed fields they sow the grain, 
And we In youth will east the seed 
For later days of need.” 
Your true friend, Ra. A. Smith. 
Spooner’s Corners, N. Y., Oct. 23, 1873. 
- 4 - 4-4 - 
LETTERS FROM BOYS AND GIRLS. 
The Rural’s Letters from Young Folks. 
Dear Rural I feel very much pleased to 
see the.very subject taken up in your valuable 
paper, by Cora, Batavia, N. Y., that I was going 
to write about some wbeks ago—that is the Boys’ 
anil Girls’ and little folks' lotters. How very 
interesting their letters are ; they must not get 
too much engaged to forget their letters for tho 
good Rural New-Yorker. The temperance 
lecture is very good. That young man is very 
likely to make n good Sampson, and I, for one, 
would bo pleased with a history of his life. 
Ella to Wild Rose, and Lizzie L., and little 
Minnie, are all very good. I think it Is very 
noble of that young lady not to lot the,dear 
Rural be used for preserve jars or on pantry 
shelves, etc. I hope others will take the hint, 
and that. Cora will write again. I almost al¬ 
ways read the letters first. That from the young 
King of Slam, only sixteen years of age, is very 
interesting—in the Rural of Sept. 27th. Also 
Mary A. E. Wageu’8 letters I love to read, with 
many others. I hope the interest will bo kept 
up ln the Rural. Dear Mr. Moore, 1 am going 
to solicit a favor from you. and that is this: 
Will you please send your likeness In the Rural 
for. a Christmas present, and then your sub¬ 
scribers cun see you, which would please us 
very much. We had our Sabbath School Picnic 
In a grove on tho 30th of September, and we all 
had a good time and went home feeling better. 
—A Sunday School Scholar, Murray, N. Y. 
A Chestnut Expedition. 
Dear Editor: Wo thought wo would like 
to toll you about our chestnutting expedition. 
One pleasant Saturday wo three girls took it 
into our heads to go to tho pasture for chest¬ 
nuts. The pasture was about a mile distant. 
Wo prepared a lunch, and taking our baskets 
wo started out. On arriving at the pasture wo 
found some chestnuts, but not enough to sat¬ 
isfy us, so we wont across to tho woods, in the 
edge of which some chestnut freon grew. Wo 
found a. great many, anil after Ailing our bas¬ 
kets we ate our lunch and then amused our¬ 
selves with gathering leaves for a winter bou¬ 
quet, till a dnrk cloud In the west warned us 
it was time to go homo if wo wished to avoid 
getting wet. So we started and reached tho 
house just a« it began to rain. We would like 
to correspond with somo of the young Rural 
readers. Thinking we have written enough for 
this time, we will close. Your well trusting 
friends— Minnie II., Julia U., arid Aggie S., 
Westfield, N. Y. 
flutter. 
PROBLEM.—No. 12. 
The line which bisects one of the acute 
angles of a right angled triangle, anil which 
terminates at. one of tho sides, measures 30 rods 
while the hypothenuse measures 60. Required, 
tho base and perpendicular of tho triangle. 
B C — 50 rods; 11 D—30 rods. 
This problem may be solved without the aid 
of trigonometrical formula, or the use of an 
equation higher than that of tho second degree. 
B. F. Burleson. 
63^" Answer in two weeks. 
-- 
POETICAL ENIGMA.—No, 1. 
I am composed of 08 let ters : 
My 3, 02, 27, 48, 89,12, 25, 84, 70, 81, 70, 90, 7, 36,1 is 
the beautiful theme of more than one 
beautiful poem ln our language, though 
that of H. K. White is perhaps best known. 
My 8, 03, 95, 07,11, 15 Is a bird much celebrated 
by British poets. 
My 6,31, 09, 20, 52 Is the subject of a poem by 
Bryant. 
My 8, 17, 34, 44 is poetically defined by Haw¬ 
thorne ns “ the voice of a reflection in a 
mirror. 
My 13, 20, 2, 50, 49, in the words of Byron, is “a 
gem that loves the deep.” 
My 25, 16, 40, 00, 77, 37, 19 arc trees universally 
spoken iff with admiration by t.he poets. 
My 33,21,38, 87 has been called the “ adorn er of 
the ruin.” 
My 30, 27, 41, 92, 45, 29, 73, 32 is a poem by Tenny¬ 
son, as beautiful as popular. 
My 48, 85, 27, 40, 08, 30, 83, 23, 97, 9 is a beautiful 
ami well-known poem by Wordsworth. 
My 53, 89, 24, 28, 33, 94, ol, 20 is a living American 
poet.. 
My 57. 4, 80, 78, 59,99, 42,12, 64, 21,51 is a poem by 
Tennyson. 
My 72, 58, 14, 65, 50. 79 is one of Tennyson’s 
“ Idyls of the King.” 
My 74. 71. 88.85, 01, 83, 10,22, 47 is one of Long¬ 
fellow’s “ Poems on slavery.” 
My 75, 44, 91, CO Is tho kind of poem of which 
Tennyson is called a master. 
My 90,18, 27, 80, 65 was a British poet. 
My whole Is a quotation from Shelly, well 
worthy a place in the memory for its exquisite 
utterance of a well-known psychological truth. 
Rockford, III. Fourteen. 
Answer in two weeks. 
PUZZLER ANSWERS.-Nov. 1. 
Miscellaneous Enigma No. 9.—O! taste 
and see that the Lord is good. 
Transpositions No. 1.—Stool, tools; spill, 
pills; live, vile; hares, share; pear, reap ; hose, 
shoe; plum, lump; room, moor; and, Dan; 
dame, made; lime, mile; 1-over, rove. 
