'abirs’ |jort'|^olt0. 
THE BABY OVER THE WAY. 
BY MAT KILEY SMITH. ( 
ACROSS In my neighbor’s window. 
With its draplnga of satin and lace, ( 
I see, ’neuth a erown of ringlets, t 
A baby’* innocent face. 
HU feet in their wee, red slippers, > 
Are tapping the polished glass, I 
And the crowd In the street look upward, 
And nod, and smile, as they pass. 
< 
Just here, la my cottage window, 
Catching flies in the sun, 
With n patch on his faded apron, I 
Stands my own little one. 
His face is as pure and handsome 
As the baby’s over the way, 
And he keeps my lieurt from breaking. 
At ray tolling, every day. 
Sometimes, when the day Is ended. 
And 1 sit In the dusk to reBt, 
With the race of my sleepy darling i 
Hugged close to my lonely breast, 
X pray that my neighbor's baby 
.Vtay not catch Heaven’s roses, all; 
But that some may crown the forehead 
Of i njj loved one, as they fall. 
And when 1 draw the stocking 
From his little tired teet. 
And kiss the rosy dimple* 
in his limbs so round and sweet 
1 think of the dainty garments 
Some little children wear, 
And frown that my God withholds them, 
From mini', so pure and ralr. 
May Ood forgive my envy! 
I knew not what I said: 
My heart iscrushod, and humbled; 
My neighbor’s boy Is dead ! 
I saw the little Coran, 
As they carried it, out to.dny ; 
A mother'* heart is break lug 
In the manslou over thu way. 
The light Is fair tn my window; 
The flowers bloom at my door; 
My boy is chasing the sunbeams 
That dance on the oottago floor; 
The roses of heulth are blushing 
On my darling'* cheek tu-duy; 
But tuiby I* gone, front tbnVrlndow 
Of the house over the w'tiy ! 
Springfield, Ill., Nov., 1870. 
-- 
WHAT RURAL WOMEN WRITE. 
A Rural Woman’* Experience. 
Reading the articles from the “ troubled 
Marthas,” I thought my own experience 
might, perhaps, be of profit to some of them. 
A farmer’s daughter hi the free West, of 
delicate health, inheriting from my parents 
an inteq.HO desire for nn education, and bless¬ 
ed with an older brother, whose greatest 
pleasure was in humoring my caprices, I 
grew to womanhood, knowing very little of 
the care ami labor of farm work. After 
finishing a course of study, and receiving 
the long-coveted diploma, I confess, with 
shame, that I imbibed the too popular opin¬ 
ion that I was entirely unfitted for the tire¬ 
some routine of domestic duties on a farm; 
and as for a “ farmer’s wife," the idea was 
too preposterous to be for a moment enter¬ 
tained. Various plans were formed as to 
my future course. At one time I was on the 
eve of going 8011th to teach the freedmen, 
but the arrangements failed ; then I was of¬ 
fered a situation as teacher in Illinois, but 
the letter was delayed until loo late, so the 
fall after closing ray studies found me in a 
neighboring village, in charge of the Laud 
Department of the Union School. About 
the same time a young gentleman came from 
the East to engage in mercantile pursuits in 
Ids uncle’s store, and being interviewed by 
one of the members of our Literary Club, he 
was considered of sufficient mental caliber 
to make him a desirable addition. He was, 
accordingly, invited to join our body; thus 
tin-own together, we became friends. The 
principal of the school not desiring to re¬ 
main the next term, I was offered the posi¬ 
tion; I accepted it, and so remained, al¬ 
though almost against my will. 
Meantime the young gentleman before 
mentioned became more attentive, and, after 
nearly two years’ acquaintance, was my ac¬ 
cepted suitor. I now congratulated myself 
upon soon biddiug adieu to farm life. A 
few months later my afflauced received a 
telegram calling him home to attend the 
funeral of his brother. In a few days a let¬ 
ter came making sad wreck of my hopes. 
He was the only remaining one of seven 
children, his father insisted upon his coming 
home to take charge of the farm, and he 
wrote asking me if i would be a “ farmer’s 
wife.” I had gone too far to retreat. Be¬ 
sides, as I had never been forty miles from 
home, the prospect of a trip to New York 
was decidedly agreeable. 
A hasty wedding, a short visit at Cleve¬ 
land, and a few weeks later found mein- 
stalled as mistress in a farm house. Cookery 
I was ignorant of. Butter making was for¬ 
eign to all my notions, and so on to the end 
of the catalogue. However, with a husband 
blind to my faults, and ready to lend a help¬ 
ing hand—one who took care of his old 
boots, hung up hi3 own clothes, milked, 
strained milk, churned, brought wood and 
water, built fires and put on kettles, 1 soon 
found there were pleasures I had not dreamed 
v of in being a “fanner’s wife;” that I did 
not know too much, but altogether too little, 
to fill the station I was called to occupy; 
and after nearly three years’ experience, my 
preconceived notions to the contrary, I have 
about decided that, with a husband like 
mine, fanning is a very pleasant occupation. 
I think it is hi the power of farmers and 
their wives to make farm life and farm 
homes so attractive that public opinion will 
change, and the name of fanner cease to be 
a reproach. They should educate their chil¬ 
dren mentally, morally, physically, and in 
domestic duties; teacli brothers to lend a 
helping hand to sisters, and thus learn chival¬ 
ry and gallantry at home. Then “ troubled 
Marthas" will cease, and the farms of to¬ 
day be converted into Edens of pleasure, 
profit and contentment. — Mrs. Perry 
Gumaer. 
loung People. 
THE BABY MYSTERIES. 
Where did you come from, baby dear? 
Out oe the everywhere into here. 
Where did you get your eyes so blue ? 
Out of the sky us 1 came through. 
Whut makes the light in them sparkle and spin? 
Home of the starry spikes left in. 
Where did you got that little tear? 
1 found It waiting when I got here. 
Wltat makes your forehead so smooth and high? 
A soft hand stroked It as I went by. 
Sympathy lor Women Without Work. ( 
We often hear the pitiful condition of 
Lazarus discoursed upon. The necessity of ^ 
begging for the crumbs that fell from the 
table of one who “ fared sumptuously every 4 
day,” was indeed terrible. His rags were a 
painful contrast to purple aud fine linen. ' 
His sores rendered him a loathsome spec- 1 
tacle of physical suffering and uncleanness, t 
Too weak to walk about, asking alms of 1 
those whose hands were full, he lay at the i 
gate of oue who never strove to ameliorate ( 
his sufferings, or lift him above the most j 
pressing necessities of hunger. No oil was ( 
poured into the sores, no healiug ointment 
applied. The only cleansing remedy offered 
wits the tongues of the dogs, as they com¬ 
passionately licked his wounds. 
To be a Lazarus i3 to have, in this life, 
“ evil things,” to he sure. To be the royal ^ 
one, is to have the “good things” of the , 
world. ( 
But the condition of Lazarus seems even , 
preferable to that of a class that stands very 
nearly allied to him, and very far from the 
nfliuence of Dives. These aro the home¬ 
less, penniless ones, ashamed to beg and yet 
without work. Of all suffering human be¬ 
ings, it seems to me those must suffer most 
who, wherever they are stopping, recognize 
themselves as burdensome. Who know 
themselves, on account, of their poverty, just 
as painful to their rich relatives and friends 
as corns and bunions on the toes, or ns much 
in l he way as warts and fatty tumors. 
Whether they wish it or not, they aro con¬ 
sidered objects of charity, aud by their mere 
presence seem to remind some one of his 
pur*e. To he stopping for a short time with 
some wealthy relative, and come suddenly 
upon her as she is looking over her bureau 
drawers, her closets where cast-off garments 
are carefully *8towed, or turning the rag-bag 
inside out, searching earnestly as for hidden 
treasure, must make one feel “curious.” 
Some time afterward to be presented with a 
bit of bright ribbon, (washed perhaps,) a 
collar, long since out of date, a dress faded 
and remodeled throughout, accompanied by 
thu words, “ Don’t hesitate to accept them. 
You can just as well have them as not; they 
are of no earthly use to me. The dress I 
shall uever wear again, aud the collar I never 
did like ’’—all this makes one feel more curi¬ 
ous still. 
Now, if one can quietly take things thus 
offered, aud not let out a little of the “ old 
Adam,” the presumption is strong that she 
is not human, and has no “ Adam" about 
her. To know that one’s situation is la¬ 
mentable, and that one’s presence constantly 
reminds friends of the fact, so that they feel 
obliged to "sympathize,” and tell of wl*it 
they would like to do if they were only able 
to alleviate that suffering, this is Just as 
much as God ever wanted anybody to hear 
calmly. 
How many such persons there are in the 
world 1 know not. Of late, 1 have come to 
foci that there are many more than we are 
wont to imagine. Experience is a wonder¬ 
ful opener of eyes. In my sorrow for them, 
1 can easily forget about Lazarus. To 
those dependent, and yet independent once, 
who would scorn to ask aid for which they 
could offer no equivalent, and yet who are 
so “ hedged in” by circumstances that they 
are compelled to accept daily bread from 
more favored ones, to those the “ grace of 
God” means more than to others. Struggle 
on, tried souls; bear the heavy cross; wear 
the thorny crown uncomplainingly, and 
yours shall be a competence in the gl orious 
land of gold.—j. L. w. 
What Shull a Gill Ho? 
Adelaide B. G\, Decatur, III., writes; 
“ I am ‘ uselessly, aimlessly drifting through 
life.’ What shall 1 do? My parents do not 
wish me to be away from them; but if they 
should die, or if by any chance I should be 
thrown upon my own resources, I should he 
quite helpless. My father is a jeweler, with 
a moderate income. 1 have a great deul of 
leisure, abundant vitality, do not incline at 
all to matrimony—the supposed goal of all 
girlish ambition—but every day feel the need 
of having some genuine work to do, that will 
yield me permanent advantage. Can you 
not suggest something to help me?” 
Apprentice yourself to your father, and 
after learning the “ trade,” join with him in 
a business partnership, the same as if you 
were a “son.” It is a business for which 
women seem particularly adapted. You 
will succeed, beyond doubt, and make your¬ 
self, not only useful, but independent.—w. 
WhuL makes your check like u warm, white rose? 
I saw something better than any one knows. 
Whence that that thrce-cornereil smile of bliss? 
Three angels gave me at once u kiss. 
AVhem did you get this pearly ear? 
God spoke and It came out to hear. 
Where did you get those arms and hands? 
Love made itself Into hooks aud bunds. 
Feet, whence did you conic, you darling things? 
Front the saute box as the cherubs' wings. 
How did they all Just come to be you? 
God thought about me, and so I grew. 
But how did you come to us, you dear? 
God thought about you, and so I atn here. 
[Good TUonis for tlit Young. 
Fia. 3. 
AN OLD STUMP: w 
And Whitt we Found in It. bl 
C< 
Old stumps are not much of a curiosity to (f 
those who live in the country. When a boy r ,, 
we used to think it great sport to get a ^ 
quantity of dry stumps together and then 
set them on fire; especially on a dark night, 1} 
when the sparks could be seen, as we stirred ^ 
up the heap with a long pole, or sent a stone M 
whizzing into the blazing coals. That was c 
royal fun to us, years ago, and we almost a 
wish that avc were a boy again, just to have v 
one night of rollicking sport in the old wood 
lot, down by the swamp, where, alas! there k 
are now neither trees nor stumps to burn. 
Fortunately, we own a few old stumps, n 
one of which was chopped into pieces a few 
days since, and we will tell the hoys and 
girls avIio read the Rural New-Yorker , 
what rve found in it. Not gold and silver, 
that had been hid there by some foolish 
miser, who did not la i.tw where to put 
-,***'» h& money, but living 
V jf creatures, who had 
Oh/ taken up their abode 
in this old stump, 
KSflrv'j av here we found them 
just us happy and con- H 
/Hit f jmflk tented as bugs knoAv i 
I fiib i Inmil \ how to be. VVe own j 
J mM V to some tAVinges of , 
• naflt * conscience in making | 
I \ tll ‘ s alLac * c u P on their 
/ nfiw \ home, where j 
( T^ l m r 1. they were so nicely 
housed for the winter; 
L but as a slight return 
for the trouble we gave them, their names i 
and portraits shall appear in the Rural 1 
New-Yorker, Avith an introduction to its < 
many thousands of readers. 
The bark of the old stump had nearly 
all fallen off; but there avus one large piece, 
and as we pulled this RAvay out tumbled the 
great Alans ocoiilatus, (Fig. 1,) or Big-eyed 
Beetle. It is sometimes called Spring Beetle, 
because it av ill occasionally give its head a : 
tremendous jerk, when held in the hand, 
and throw itself several inches at one leap. 
This beetle is perfectly harmless, and the 
girls need not scream, and make a great fuss, 
if their brothers happen to bring one into 
the house for the purpose of comparing it 
Avith this portrait,. Strange as it may ap¬ 
pear, this large and beautiful beetle was, in 
one stage of its existence, a large reddish- 
colored grub, Avhich once fed upon the wood 
of this old slump. We cannot stop now to 
tell you ht>AV, or when so wonderful a change 
took place, but there are books iu which 
many curious things are told of insect life. 
Having disposed of our great Alaus (don’t 
forget the name,) avc again resume our at¬ 
tack upon the stump. Knocking 
off a lurge chunk we found sev- V J 
eral small silky-looking beetles, AU z' 
of the form and size shown in 
Fig. 2. At first they appeared . 
to he dead, but after holding 
them in our hands a few mo- * ™ 
meuls, Avhere they became warm, fig. 3. 
life seemed to return, and almost simultane¬ 
ously each gave their heads a sudden jerk 
aud threw themselves upon the ground. 
This movement showed that they were 
Spring beetles, but quite different from the 
large one. Although belonging to the same 
order, its name is Melanotus cinerus. 
Breaking open the old stump avc found 
the center quite rotten ; but hid away there, 
as far from the outside world as they could 
possibly get, we came upon a half dozen 
great lazy Passalm cornutus (Fig. 3.) These 
beetles are very slow walkers, but very 
handsome fellows, Avith shining black coats, 
and their Aving covers deeply furroAved or I 
grooved. They are often found in large 
numbers under old logs, as Avell as in stumps; 
and when suddenly disturbed they gh’o out 
a hissing sound, something like the IjIoav- 
snake. They are harmless, however, and 
we often carry them home alive in our hand 
or pocket. 
We also found several species of Lady 
birds, ( Voccindla ,) small and beautifully 
spotted beetles, Avliich 
i fi/fSfWS hft r- feed on plant lice; therc- 
% 1 3 / f° rc ftie om ’ friends, and 
should never be killed. 
v \ fflfV They usually crawl nn- 
’ I j! ! ■ der stones, or the balk 
i jL of stumps ami logs, and 
jvw jjjrV there pass the Avi liter. 
" W-ilgw i After our old stump 
was demolished, avc 
Fia. 3. commenced to clear np 
the rubbish, and in doing bo we discovered 
a beautiful specimen of the Ootalpa laniyera, 
(Fig. 4,) which looked very much like a 
small lump of burnished gold as it lay there 
struggling among the chips and dirt. It is 
often called the GoldsmiL’-i Beetle, on ac¬ 
count of its brilliant colors. In spring and 
early summer these beetles feed upon tbc 
leaves of various kinds of fruit trees, and fly 
about early in the morning or late in the 
evening. They are / 
seldom seen late in J[ \jaU L 
autumn, and the one av. iy 
avc found must have 
been caught out in the 
cold, and crawled up jr jBlf JsiM It \ 
to the old stump for a ' Jam,. /t*)''' Cf riv 
fewAVceks’ quiet rest. Jpfpi' jrcfipP Vf 
A nd close by his side 4jjrr2(r j 
the beautiful, dark- \ ' 
blue Melon anyudicoUis Fig. 4. 
(Fig. 5,) lmd settled himself to rest for the 
winter. Look at the picture and notice the 
cut of his coat! It is a dandy swallow-tail, 
and rather short, hut it answers his purpose 
very well. 
Perhaps some of our readers Avill want to 
know how these beetles came by their mimes, 
which would be a very natural question, 
and avc will answer it by saying that learned 
y I entomologists gave them 
iTNy /"*/’ their names, and many an 
/ old slump 1ms been de- 
molisliecl. for other pur- 
/* I kwcs than merely to get it 
/ EpMa \ t>IIt ‘ way. Wc hope 
/ A llie hoys who read the 
J 5 * Rural Avill all become 
Jf \ learned men, and study 
* \ natural sciences, and then 
Fig. f>, they Avill never be lone¬ 
some, even AVhen working alone, as every 
old log and stump will be full of life to them. 
Picking up stones av i 11 become a pleasure 
Avken each and every insect found is to be 
known and studied. 
fig. r», 
FROM RURAL BOYS AND GIRLS. I 
A Tennessee Girl ami llev Flowers. 
1 am a New York girl, but, have been liv¬ 
ing here in Tennessee two years. Ido dear¬ 
ly love flowers, ami think if Katie G. would 
cultivate a bed of annuals one year, she 
Avnuld change her opinion. There is a flower 
here the Tennesseeans call “ Mountain 
Pink;” it grows four or five feet high, and 
lms small, delicate pink floAvera, in hunches, 
though, so that they make quite a Bhow. 
They aro perennial. My yard is so large, I 
set Hollyhocks, and planted large double 
suu flowers all around the fence, which made 
the yard showy in June. For vines, I have 
morniug glories ami hop vines trailing over 
the piazzas; and then I had a little arbor 
covered with them. They are very beauti¬ 
ful in the morning. I have white pinks, red, 
pale blue, and a rich, dark purple one that 
looks like velvet. My four-o’clocks are very 
pretty when they are out in the evening; and 
early in the morning I have white, variegated 
and crimson. I have such beautiful portli- 
laccas—a border along the walk, of single 
ones, and then I had some beautiful double 
ones—as double as a rose. I have white, 
yellow, crimson, and scarlet, double and 
single. My balsams Avere a perfect success. 
I have some four feet high, nud great, large 
stalks—a perfect bouquet from the ground. 
I trimmed most of them to one stem, and 
some to three. Mine are mostly single. I 
have a beautiful petunia; it Is a rich, vel¬ 
vety red, and lms blossomed since curly in 
July, and will bloom till frost. My cox¬ 
combs arc perfectly splendid. I have some 
handsome ones three feet or more high ; they 
are all different colors, and looking just like 
a great bunch of velvet of the richest colors. 
[ have a lot of everlasting flowers; I call 
| them Immortelles; they are crimson, and 
look like red clover, some. They are very 
pretty in the yard, and will keep all winter. 
—Annie Lay. 
How Kiln Brown Muiln u Vuik, die. 
Perhaps some of the girls avouUI like to 
Oo 
abbatb ilcabing. 
MY PRAYER. 
UtA'jS me n *ong, untl I will situs It! 
Give mu till otferlUK; I will bring it! 
Give mu Thyself, and I will take TheeA 
Withdraw Thyself, sitid I forsake Tbeot 
My hind lie* fallo : Master, till uio! 
My heart lies empty : Master, fill me I 
It plays the traitor: Master, win mol 
it faints; it die* 1 Put new life In me 1 
It goes astray: good Shepherd, lead me t 
It sighs for hunger : oome aud feed me! 
It Is so poor ! Give riches to me! 
It Is corrupt: O Lord, renew me 
So Ignorant! Oh ! wilt thou teach me? 
Has wandered fur! But Tluiu Cunst reach me 1 
la sore diseased : Physician, heal me! 
Exposed to danger: oh 1 conceal me. 
It tremble*! In Thine arms, oh, fold me! 
Begins to sink ! Oh ! Saviour hold me! 
Is sinking fast! Lord, look upon me! 
So cold and dark 1 Oh ! shine upon mo I 
A poor, lost sinner! Come and find mol 
A rebel! May Thy love now bind me! 
A prodigal! Wilt Thou receive tuo? 
A beggar! Oh ! wilt Then relieve me? 
A backslider! Will Thou restore mo? 
Unholy I May Thy presence awe me! 
Unlit to die I O God, prepare roe I 
So weak! On eagles’ wings, oh, bear me! 
So Comfortless I Lord Jesus Cheer mo! 
So lonely ! God of love, draw near mo ! 
By Bin accused ! Good Lord, acquit met 
Unlit for Heaven's pure service ! Fit me! 
Unlit for work on earth ! But Use me! 
A suppliant! Do n,,t thou refuse me ! 
Oh! come and fill the bungry with good things; 
For Thou bust all I need, Thou King of kings! 
| An inlay at Home, 
--- 
THOUGHTS BY THINKERS. , 
How ChriatintiM May be Justified. 
The American Messenger says:—To those 
Christians who are in doubt and darkness, 
and to those avIio are inquiring the ivny of 
salvation, we say, just read ivlmt Paul says, 
Horn. iii. 20:20. ITo tells us, by the deeds of 
the laAV shall no flesh be justified in God’s 
sight, lie speaks not of rites and ceremo¬ 
nies, but of God’s great moral laiv, the sumo 
law by which, in the same verse, he tells us, 
comes the knoivledgc of sin. We cannot he 
saved by keeping the moral law. We are 
condemned by it. Not one of ns has kept it 
even for ft single day. God be thanked tlmt 
avb can be Justified by believing in Jesus 
Christ, through wliom avc mny have pardon 
and perfect peace. Well says Luther, “ If 
thou canst not believe that God will forgive 
thy Bins for Christ's sake, whom He sent 
into the Avorld to ha our high priest, how, 
then, I pray thee, wilt thou believe that He 
av 111 forgive the same for the works of the 
law, Avhicli thou couldst, never perforin ? 
The Growth of Chriut In t'». 
Children and youth may become disci¬ 
ples of the Lord Jesus Christ, and may he 
safely gathered into the Christian fold, if 
only their parents and their pastors av ill be 
content to receive the babe-Christ in the 
young convert, or the young Christian. 
Churches, parents and teachers are to bring 
up the children under their care in the nur¬ 
ture and admonition of the Lord ; but, to a 
very large extent, Christians have brought 
up their children in the hope that when they 
shall have arrived at years of discretion, 
(which are usually supposed to bo soine- 
Avhere from fifteen to twenty-one years of 
age,) they will then themselves become 
Christians. 1 hold that it is possible so to 
rear our children that they shall ho convert¬ 
ed from the cradle, and grow up in the nur¬ 
ture and admonition of the Lord —some av ith- 
out a break, and some subject to these nor¬ 
mal disturbances which come from physical 
causes in the re-adjustment of the system at 
its maturity. 
If Christian parents and Christian teachers 
were consistent, aud were in faith of the true 
Christ Jesus, I believe that generations of 
children might be brought up, who never 
would know the point at which the transi¬ 
tion Avas made. They would be taught to 
love Christ, and to adopt the great Christian 
element, of character—love—and, by it, to 
cast out evil, to build, and to acquire habits 
and experiences, so tliat when they came lo 
man’s estate, it would not he through all the 
tanglements, besetments, and soilings of nn 
ordinary earthly experience. They would 
come honorable, truthful, loving, full of faith, 
full of hope, full Of purity, from the cradle to 
the church. And I do not simply believe 
this to he possible in rare cases. 1 do not 
believe there Avill ever be a day of millcimun. 
1 do not believe there will ever he a preva¬ 
lence of Christianity, until, Instead of trying 
to fish for the few adults that can be brought 
from evil into good, we learn Iioav to take 
life at its beginnings, amt to train genera¬ 
tions from the first to true manhood, passing 
through Infancy and youth into the full de- 
, velopment of Christian life. 
Persons, avc all know, ure more suscepti¬ 
ble at the early age than tit any other. Chil¬ 
dren are not superior to men in knowledge, 
nor in strength, nor in discrimination. There 
are a thousand of the acquirements by which 
> a man battles with the world, that they are 
know how Ave made a vase for our room. It not superior in. But there is one ull-impor- 
.vtil not hold natural flowers. Take a lamp 
chimney, paint it with red or yellow stripes, 
and fill it with salt. In a few weeks the salt 
will harden; this may bo filled with arti¬ 
ficial or dried grasses.— Ella L. B. 
tant principle which belongs to childhood, 
and not to any other time, viz.: that pecu¬ 
liar development of the soul by which it 
knoAVS Iioav to take hold of another, and to 
borrow its light from that other.— Beecher. 
L/ 
