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TRANQUILLITAS. 
BT ANNIE HERBERT. 
Sometime, as the days ro round. 
Such a weight my eyes shall cumber, 
And so deep shall be ray slumber, 
That your fondest kisses raining 
On my brow, and sad complaining 
Of a life all comfortless, 
Cannot gain one light caress, 
Cannot wake an answering sound; 
And if lore. In anguish sighing. 
Hears n<* lender word replying, 
Naught op all life's cares that cumber 
Shall awake me from my slumber. 
Oh ! the kind release from pain, 
Sweeping wiili relentless lingers 
All the chords where sweetness lingers; 
Oh! the rest fulness of quiet. 
Creeping through the pulses' riot. 
And the culm. Intense and strange, 
Checking fancy's utmost range, 
Stealing over heart, and brain ; 
Waves of change may roll above mo. 
Friends forgot, and ceuse to love me, 
While the tranquil days I number 
Only by unbroken slumber. 
And my rest will bo so sweet, 
Free from fever dreams that cumber. 
That, to wakeu me from slumber, 
Vain will he the sunset dying 
Down the hills, and glens replying 
To the bugle’s silver words, 
Vain the song of summor birds. 
When the year is crowned complete; 
Fairest sights may pass me over,— 
Odorous bloom of crimson clover, 
Sunshine bathing rocks in umber,— 
Nor awake me from my slumber. 
While the seasons all the while 
Lavish glories without number, 
Longanil still shall be my slumber; 
When a few.grown tired of weeping. 
Turn the sod where I am sleeping. 
And the trusted and the tried 
Slumber witli me, side by side, 
I shall neither stir nor smile; 
But when all the sky ahull glisten. 
And the flowers above me listen, 
Angel voices without number 
Shall awake mo from my slumber. 
-S-M- 
A PLEA FOR LOVE. 
BT LYDIA JII.LSON C RAND ELL, 
“ W FIAT M Love?” 
I have no original definition in the private 
drawer of my own meager experience, nor 
uill I refer to Webster, who lias assumed 
the task of telling what all the English- 
speaking world means by what it says; for 
he declares onr funny text to signify “an 
affection,” and yon would probably, in your 
“ mystification,” decide with me, that here, 
at least, Noah was au fait , as Madume 
Noah could testify. 
I rack my brain for the verdict of those 
who have talked about, the mystic thing 
with the universe for an audience, from 
Moses to Michelet; but I verily doubt 
whether the rudest farmer’s lad, who has 
strolled through the meadow paths, under 
the moonbeams, side by side with Bessie or 
Ann, could not tell you more. For Hugh 
knows of what he speaks: with him it is a 
living presence. The sturdy heart there under 
the rough coat is hammering an accompani¬ 
ment to his words, if you could but bear it; 
there is a new light beaming out through 
the honest gray eyes and flashing often from 
cheek to brow, if you could but see it; and 
henceforth, through the woof of this man’s 
daily life there is winding a golden thread, 
making the homely fabric beautiful and fit 
for a prince's wearing. 
My friend, the passion scouts at words, 
and spurns analysis, as do Heaven’s sun¬ 
beams. If you are anxious to gaze upward 
to its heights, or downward into its depths, 
you must surrender yourself as patient, and 
your heart for experiment; for, as the wisest 
of men remarked, on a somewhat different 
subject, “A stranger iutermeddieth not there¬ 
with.” 
I believe there are lieart-athelsts, as there 
are those who grow fat upon God’s bounty, 
who deny that the Infinite stretches forth 
any hand to His creatures’ needs. It seems 
to me that these are they whose lives have 
long wound through the by-paths and shady 
places of the world, and that by-and-by, 
when the broad highway, so dusty from the 
passing of many feet, shall intersect the 
quiet road, they will at last come upon some 
fellow traveler with whom they shall walk, 
arm in arm, to the journey’s end. Or they 
are those who have played with hearts as 
with baubles, only to drain them of all treas¬ 
ure and then toss them aside for some newer 
toy,—they whose feet have trodden upon a 
luckless flower, whose fragrance and beauty 
bought its ruin.—hearts which a sweet sing¬ 
er says are “ dry as summer duBt,”—slimy 
hearts which you may track by a dark line 
over many wasted lives. These last weigh 
all others in cheating scales of their own. 
They fail to comprehend what is so immeas¬ 
urably beyond and above them. It were 
well for such, if love were indeed the jest 
they fain to believe it, as it were well with 
sc:res of others, when they shall come close 
down bv the gates of Death, if life were in¬ 
deed the __rcc at which they have laughed 
and made mer*v while it was theirs. 
If it be a cheat what a mighty cheat it is 1 
It has converted sage: into simpletons and 
kings into courtiers, ruled kingdoms and de¬ 
throned princes, let loose red war upon the I 
nations, and consigned the sword of war¬ 
riors to rust and the scabbard. Love pointed 
to Cleopatra and Antony forgot Rome. 
The burning tongue which had talked so 
cunningly of the gaping wounds of poor, 
dead C.esar as to charm the very stones of 
the Eternal City to rise in mutiny, soon for¬ 
got the dialect of war to whisper sweet 
words in the ear of lady-love. For it the 
sons of light long ago bartered God's smile 
and Heaven’s glory, and for it the wisest of 
all men gave in exchange bis wisdom as a 
bauble. It held the reins for long years over 
the heart at whose beating Europe held tts 
breath, and ushered Death into the palace 
chamber of the lonely old quean whose slen¬ 
der hand led England many a mile onward 
in the road to glory. If it bo a cheat, how 
difficult it is to strangle, and how hard it 
dies. How it has led blindfold the com¬ 
mon sense of ages, and woven fetters for 
iron wills and giant intellects, since the 
world began. 
The thirsty, way-worn pilgrim, who, fin¬ 
back among the centuries, eveu at the well’s 
brink, forgot bis thirst and weariness to drink 
love from the dark eyes of the Chaldee maid¬ 
en, was not the first who hud brought his 
thirsty heart to the same well to drink. Nor 
was my little maid the last, who left, me not 
many days ago, choosing a little with Jamie, 
in a strange land, rather than plenty and lone¬ 
liness In t his. Poor Maggie I Others than 
thee have done more than crossed oceans to 
be by “ Jamie.” They have carried sorrows, 
and encountered deaths, braved hunger and 
toil and nakedness, and counted their lives 
as nothing, so they might win love. 
You might number martyrs by thousands, 
who have worn it as a crown. I have known 
many aueb,— heroes ami heroines, whose 
names arc not. on the world’s record, and 
whose sacrifices there was no one to praise. 
I know of one, who wears her gray hair to¬ 
day like a halo of glory, who, for two-score 
years, amid loneliness and utter neglect, 
thankless toil and cruel words, has never 
once let the fire go out on the heart’s altar, 
and who to-day would give Ihc winter of 
her darkened life, as she has given all its 
summer-time, for the assurance that she is 
beloved, even as she has loved. T read of 
one, a lady of gentle birth, cradled in luxury 
and all refinement, who turned her hack on 
all that makes life worth ihe having, in the 
eyes of most of ns, to follow her felon hus¬ 
band to the land of his banishment. Having 
disposed of her stalely home in the midst of 
the glitter and fashion of London, she rented 
a rude little tenement in the criminal colony, 
and then (for whoever outwitted love ?) suc¬ 
ceeding in hiring from the Government the 
labor of the guilty dear one, as a private ser¬ 
vant. Light, I opine, were the tasks affec¬ 
tion exacted. Love had disarmed Justice, 
and spread over both ouce more the same 
roof—that it was mean and rude troubled 
them little. Here was heroism enough to 
gild a century. Here was such love as Goo 
exacts, and such a< He has pronounced the 
“ fulfilling of the law,” for it left father and 
mother and home and country for love’s 
own sake. 
IIovv the world stared and pointed its busy 
linger at the woman, who, a few years ago, 
willingly put aside velvet and silks, silver 
plate and servants, pride and station, and 
stepped quietly down from among the cush¬ 
ions of her luxurious carriage, to finish the 
journey of life on foot, with him whose place 
had hitherto been before her on the box. 
But many a poor washerwoman whose un¬ 
ending toil bad one secret sweetener, had 
solved the riddle over her tul>, long before 
that, lioary old wiseacre, “ the world.” 
I tell you, my friend, (hero is a hunger 
nothing else can satisfy—have you never 
felt it?—a void which will ache until that 
balsam is applied, which Heaven compound¬ 
ed for just such wounds; you have not lived 
so long, and never needed its virtues. A 
Heart—it was my own, told me it was better 
than much wealth, more comforting than 
many friends, sweeter than all the good 
things of life, and stronger even than Death. 
♦ - 
SANDWICHES. 
There is many a man whose tongue might 
govern multitudes, if he could only govern 
his own. 
Put off repentance till to-morrow, and you 
have a day more to repent of and a day less 
to repent in. 
If a gentleman marries, the lady must be 
wan before she is married—afterwards they 
are both one. 
Mind may act upon mind, though bodies 
be far divided, for the lire is in the blood, but 
souls communicate unseen. 
A man of little wisdom is a sage among 
fools; but himself is chief among the fools if 
lie look for admiration from them. 
A little boy disputing with bis sister re¬ 
cently exclaimed ’Tis true, for ma says 
so; and if ma says so, it's so if it ain’t so.” 
If you would be pungent, be brief; for it 
is with words as with sunbeams—the more 
they are condensed the deeper they bum. 
Moires antr jilaimers. 
^^_ 
FASHION AND COMFORT. 
BY MINTWOOD. 
A LUDICR0U9 inconsistency, and one 
which I often observe, is a woman out in a 
rain storm enveloped in water-proof and 
paddling about in cloth hoots without rub¬ 
bers. Now, if there is one theflg in which 
“ women ot fashion ” set a good example, it 
is in the matter of shoeing tlioir feet, setting 
aside the very high heels. They don’t wear 
cloth, shoos, which have very little to recom¬ 
mend them, and which, would have no mar¬ 
ket if all women were wise, unless support¬ 
ed by the patronage of men who indulge in 
the execrable taste of wearing them. For 
Out-Door Boon*. 
for walking or riding, there is none quite 
equal to a thick-soled, fine French calf, made 
to order, buttoning up high and snugly 
about the ankle. If well made, and of the 
best material, they arc nice enough to be 
worn anywhere, save when full dress is re¬ 
quired. For a dress boot, get French kid, 
and if you like a firm, arched instep, get 
those with steel shanks. These keep the 
shoe in shape until the last moment of wear¬ 
ing, and fit snugly to the instep of the foot. 
I repeal, the advice given about having shoes 
fit well, even if you have to try on forty 
pairs before suiting yourself. Select shoes it 
trifle longer than the foot, so that the. great 
toe will not be cramped, crowding it but of 
shape, and thereby causing the large toe 
joint to enlarge. If such it result lias already 
been produced, a modification may be effect¬ 
ed by wearing a roll of cotton as largo as the 
first joint of your front finger, between the 
great toe and its neighbor. This tends to 
cause the great toe to resume its natural, 
straight position. For extra 
Warmth lor the Feet 
the “arctic” overshoes, rubber lined with 
flannel, serve a good purpose. They are 
clumsy and ugly, but very comfortable to 
rifle in, and bid defiance to any amount 
of sleet and slush when walking. Long 
knitted or crocheted leggings, with feet 
soled with heavy cloth, or, what is better, 
sheep skin, or even rubber (soles of old rub¬ 
bers will do.) and reaeltjng well above the 
knee, are eminently comfortable. Legging 
for school girls may be made of heavy cloth, 
(indeed, If nothing better can bo bad, the 
best part of cast-off coats or pantaloons will 
do well,) lined with flannel, cut to fit the 
leg and knee, and buttoning up on one side 
with boot buttons. Too much attention 
cannot be given to the wannl.li and comfort, 
of girls. The very cut of boys’ garments 
insures not only comfort and warmth but 
freedom of body and limb. Girls’ stockings 
(and boys’, too, so long as they wear 
ing/t,) should not he kept in place by a String/ 
or an elastic around the leg, but by elastics 
running from two sides of the top of the 
stocking over the shoulders, or to a waist 
button. 
Knitted or crocheted half-mittens, leaving 
the fingers of the glove free, and with long 
wrists, are indispensable to comfort, even 
when a muff is carried, for skating or for 
school, the satchel muff is very convenient. 
A string from each end of it passes around 
the neck, which prevents it from being 
dropped. If moderately large it is capacious 
enough to hold a “ lunch.” A woman with 
a little genius could manufacture one at a 
small expense, by looking at one in a shop 
or fur store. 
Coiffures. 
To all of my readers who are yet wearing 
their hair, or chignons, perched on the top 
of (behead, and bulging out like a mammoth 
winter squash, let me say that you are not 
only violating beauty , but faxhion , for hair 
has taken a fall, both in position and price. 
Chignons of all colors and styles of arrange¬ 
ments, may be had from $1.50 to $0. The 
“Japanese switches,” a kind of prepared 
flax, and in quantity equal to the best head 
of hair, and of quality the best, sell for forty- 
five cents. If worn under a net, (the large 
meshes and rather coarse cord are fashion¬ 
able,) it is hardly distinguishable from real 
hair, and, indeed, I think I should prefer it 
to hair, unless I was satisfied with the head 
that produced it. The most popular style 
of hair dressing is that shown in Figure 1, 
“ Chatelaine braids.” (See page 17.) If one 
lias hair enough of her own, she parts off 
the front, divides the back in the middle, 
and braids each in three strands, (over long 
“ rats ” or switches of curled hair, to make it 
broad and heavy looking.) These two 
braids ure then fastened to the top of the 
head, well over to the front.. The front hair 
is rolled back from the face, or arranged in 
finger puffs over the top of the braids. 
In Figure 2 (page 17) see another popu¬ 
lar style; the hair is parted in three divis¬ 
ions, and each one rolled over a “rat,” giv¬ 
ing a melon-ish appearance. In all cases 
the hair covers the entire back of the head, 
coming well down on the neck, approxi¬ 
mating the old loose-in-the-net style, and 
coming well to the front on the top. It is 
quite flat or compact to the head, and is such 
a relief to the deformities so long endured, 
that women are only too glad to adopt the 
new mode. Combs of tortoise shell, with 
carved tops, or fancy ones, are much worn, 
and give a tine finish to the coiffure. They 
cost $2.50 to $10. Light, hair is “ frizzed” to 
wool In front, by weaving it around hair 
pins, and, after dry, drawing a comb through 
the crinkle. Oils of all kinds are banished 
from hah dressing. In the front hair, dry¬ 
ness and airiness and lightness are very de¬ 
sirable. Very dark, or black hair, should 
never be frizzed, but may be waved becom¬ 
ingly by having the waves large and loose. 
Bows of ribbon are much worn in the hair, 
on the top and at the side, and should corre¬ 
spond in color to those worn about the neck 
and at the throat. Light green, blue, lilac 
and black velvet are beautiful with very fair 
hair; the different shades of red, of yellow, 
and of Roman colors with black. 
Misses wear their hair in two braids, hang¬ 
ing straight down the back, tipped with a 
knot of ribbon. Little girls wear theirs ally¬ 
ing loose, with the top parted off and tied 
with a bow at the back, as shown in Figure 
8, page 17. 
I’n rty Dresses, 
Now that winter is so fully under head¬ 
way, and the “ party season” open, the girls, 
married and single, are drawing out cos¬ 
tumes, discussing evening and dinner dresses, 
and wondering by wlmt sort of trickery old 
dresses can do duty again. 
Dresses are equally fashionable, long or 
short. But a tunic (ft short overskirt) is 
deemed quite, indispensable, and as an ad¬ 
junct to a dress, is a jewel in its way, as 
covering a multitude of sins that may lurk 
around the top of the skirt. Tunics are 
made of various sorts of material—lace, 
grenadine, illusion, French organdy, Swiss, 
lustrous silk, satin and velvet. Some of the 
new shades of satin, lucil’cr, (a sort of garnet,,) 
apricot, (a sort of yellowish pink,) Nile 
green, etc., give fine effect, whether com¬ 
posing the tunic itself or giving it character 
used as trimming. For light silk dresses, 
Swiss or organdy is much used with narrow 
velvet or niching of ribbon in harmony with 
the dress, put on as additional trimming to 
the ruffles and puffings of the same. For 
black or dark silk dresses, black lace, grena 
dine, silk or satin are used. Wlmt serves as 
a tunic for some evening dresses iB simply 
a bright silk or satin apron, with broad sash 
of the same, heavily trimmed with ruching 
of satin, rows of lace or embroidery; trim¬ 
ming on the waist and sleeves of dress to 
correspond. Tunics arc mostly made with 
the plain apron front, side breadths gored 
and the back ones long and full, to admit of 
being looped up. Brelellcs of the same are 
becoming to many figures; a sash of the 
same passing over one shoulder ami confined 
with a how or rosette, is pretty on quite 
young ladies; a bertha upon older ones. By 
the possession of a pair of tunics, an old 
silk may do duty all winter, with variable¬ 
ness as well as taste. 
Tarlatan is much used by country girls, 
hut I consider it an extravagant investment, 
for it can lie worn lmt once, or twice at 
most, with freshness, and after that it is of 
no use, unless for mosquito bars, or gauze 
for picture frames. Swiss costs more in the 
beginning but is cheaper in the end. Party 
dresses of tarlatan embroidered in silk, in 
white, green and cherry, are seen in patterns 
at the leading shops, varying in prices from 
$20 to $50. White tarlatans, trimmed with 
folds, plaiting* or puffing of red, or green 
tarlatan, are also shown and are very pret ty. 
They are less ex pensive than the embroidered 
on os. Thin dresses, unless worn over an 
underdress of silk, should be made short. 
-m- 
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. 
Jessie.— Tf you want your dress for continued 
senior*, make It; of ordinary walking 1 length, 
trim it with the same and with narrow black 
velvet ribbon, Trim the bottom of the skirt 
with perpendicular folds, an Inch wide, all lying 
the Sitino way, and let the border of folds bo 
from ono-quartor to half a yard deep, aa you can 
afford; hotel this with two rows of velvet; trim 
the overskirt or tunic with a bias ruiUe three 
inches wide, headed with two rows of velvet; 
coat sleeves, trimmed at wrist with two ruffles 
and velvet, plain waist, cut heart-shaped at 
throat, and trim around that to match the 
sleeves; bow and sash ditto. Wear a simple 
muslin or lace chemisette, with lace or ruchitig 
about the neck and ends of cuffs. For your 
hair, see Illustrations. Your letter was delayed 
In reaching me, and it would have been to your 
advantage to have confided your full address. 
L. K.8., Salem, O.-Receiving on New Year’s 
day. Is having your house In order, alul yourself 
in your most becomingdressaud sweetest smiles 
to rccei\eand nntorlain the gentlemen who may 
call to wish you a “ Ilappy Now Year," repeat 
the stereotyped expressions of small talk atten¬ 
dant upon brief, formal calls, and to partake 
moderately of whatever refreshments you Invite 
them to In your dining-room. Coffee, cuke and 
grapes do nicely for refreshments. Ladle* with¬ 
out daughters commonly invite some lady friend 
to help receive. 
Buffalo Brant] Alpaca.— Jn purchasing Alpaca, 
wo advise our readers to examine that of the 
Buffalo Brand, which for elegance and durability 
claims superior merit, and inis thereby won n 
front rank for itself in the dress goods market. 
oo 
Jabkttl) ;R tithing. 
THIS WORLD IS VERf nTIFUL. 
BY GRACE GLENN. 
"This world }s very beautiful; ray God, I thank 
Thee llmt I live.”—Fern Lear,*. 
Nay, but this world Is pitiful; for this 
“ My GOD 1 thllnk thee Unit I live.” 
There are so tunny empty hands reached forth, 
And it Is " bloat ” 10 " Rive.” 
Tills world is very pltll'ul; thorn nro 
Bo many broken hearts to bind ; 
So many Unit have leaned on broken reeds;— 
So many lost, u> find. 
This world Is very pitiful: so few 
Are walking in tha"narrow way;” 
So many old lo whom the Brave is dark. 
So many young astray. 
This world Is very pitiful«. the whirl 
Of dully toil no starves the sou’; 
The auger primp for gain so dims the sight, 
So magnifies the goal. 
Thin world in pitiful; so very rare 
The sympat hizing tear, the wmiio 
Of Joy unselfish, or flu) kindly word 
That does not cover guile. 
This world is very pitiful i so oft 
Is missed the loving, muto caress 
That cheered hi Joy, or soothed in suffering. 
With boundless tenderness. 
This world is very pitiful: the prayer 
The mother taught her little one 
He erst forgot. ’Tis sweet to bear his name 
Still to the Father's throne. 
This world is pitiful : 'tis good to ope 
The iiiites of Heaven with a hymn 
For her that diotli. while I ho angola wait 
To bid her enter In. 
Ah ! yes, this world is pitiful : for this 
X thank the* that I live, O God I 
To bear the cross, to wear the thorny crown, 
And walk where Jesus trod. 
Ionia, Mich., liSlS. 
“SON, REMEMBER.” 
In the story of the rich man and Laza¬ 
rus, as told by Luke, there are no more 
striking words than these. Whatever opin¬ 
ions we mny hold touching our hereafter, 
this narrnlivc strongly impresses the fact 
that, losing our material body, we shall not 
lose onr power of remembrance—that mem¬ 
ory will be ever-living,—and 1 hat the neg¬ 
lects of the past will abide with us through 
a never-ending present. 
If, then, in the near or fnr future, wo may 
remember onr good things of this life with 
longing, why should we not remember them 
now with gratitude and joy? Why should 
we not, in this gay holiday time, take an 
inventory of the past year’s blessings, and 
draw closer to God, for seeing how in them 
He drew closely to us ? To forget our Lord’s 
manifold mercies is the most heinous sin of 
which ingratitude can he guilty; find yet the 
sin is committed daily and hourly. Hearts 
cry “ Give I Give ! ” and take all giving as a 
matter of course. Man’s ungratefulness to 
his fellow is often remarked upon; man’s 
ungratefulness to his Maker seldom receives 
a thought,. 
“Son, remember,” as spoken by Abra¬ 
ham to tlie rich man, should find an echo in 
the hearts of all. In our life-time we are re¬ 
ceiving much. Some of us fare sumptuously 
every day. At tlm gate of each some Laza¬ 
rus lies, desiring the crumbs which fall from 
our table. There are no better opportunities 
for exercising that sweet charity which 
blesses, and uplifts, than come with the open¬ 
ing year. In so Ihr as memory is ever ac tive, 
it is active then. We go back over the years 
with varying emotions. We are kinder lo 
ourselves and those around ns. So, thinking 
of ourselves, and not unmindful of others, we 
should busy our hands and hearts in such 
kindly wise as may fill the hereafter with 
none but sweet memories. Remembering 
our mercies here, and the needs of onr fel¬ 
lows, we may be enabled to rejoice in glad 
rememberings t hrough days unending. 
-- 
Too True. —Dr. Lyman Beecher once 
said;—“ A great many professed Christians 
have no other idea of religion than that it. is 
the means of getting to heaven when they 
die. As to doing anything for God while 
they live., it does not. enter into their plans. 
I tell you, my brethren, I do not believe 
there is one in five hundred of such proles¬ 
sors that will reach heaven; for there is a 
magnanimity in true religion that is above 
all such contemptible meanness.” 
- + + ». - — 
Calvary. —Cal vary is a little hill to the 
eye, but it is the only spot on earth that 
touches heaven. The Cross is foolishness 
to human reason and a stumbling block to 
human righteousness; but there only do 
mercy and truth meet together and righteous¬ 
ness and peace kiss each other. Jesus Christ 
was a man of low condition, and died a 
death of shame on the accursed tree; but 
there is salvation in no other. 
--<*-*-«- 
Good manners are the blossoms of good 
sense. It may be said, of good feeling, too, 
for if the law of kindness be written in the 
heart, it will be led to disinterestedness in 
little as well as great things—that desire to 
oblige and attention to the gratification of 
others, which is the foundation of good 
manners. 
