JAN. 2 
jWi^s’ fotitfolifl. 
DEAD LOVE. 
BY DE FORREST P CCMMERSON. 
O, Love ! that came to me in early May, 
When sweet-breathed hyacinth and vtolet were in 
bloom. 
How can I, in this bleak December, 
Luy thee to sleep within the silent tomb. 
now can I sec those hands of Illy whiteness 
Folded so calmly on thy still, cold breast; 
Even though I know thou wcnresta crown of bright¬ 
ness— 
That, tired of carth-ltfe, thou hast entered rest. 
Not even this will stop my heart’s dull aching. 
No more than rugged cliff can stop the sea 
From angry wares forever breaking— 
No 1 cron this will bring no rest for me. 
Perhaps some day wlthlti the dim forever, 
When loving heart, again meets loving heart, 
The bonds that death to-day doth sever. 
United then shall be—never to part. 
A THOUGHT. 
To-day I found a delicate fern. 
Hid in a crevice so deep 
No storm could touch Its dainty bed 
Where It curled up, fast asleep. 
So In my heart are tender flowers 
Waiting for warmer skies and showers. 
December, 1874. a. d. l. 
-ewe- 
SPECIAL OCCASIONS. 
Wn at would we, change-loving mortals, do 
If something special was not frequently Just, 
about, to happen? It la natural for people in 
general to look forward and make arrange¬ 
ment* wlt.b eagerness when they are anticipa¬ 
ting a pleasure which Is not of everyday oc¬ 
currence. 
Particular occasions are regarded of so much 
importance that, to have n holiday Is commonly 
made the first business of each opening year, 
so that New Year's day is looked upon, both by 
young ;uol old, as being different, from common 
days. Taking the whole year through and all 
tho years together, wo find that they are thickly 
dotted with Fourth of Julys, Fair days, birth¬ 
days, wedding anniversaries, Thanksgiving 
days, Christmas parties, Ac. In fact, the great 
Creator Himself ect apart one day out of every 
seven, commanding it to ho regarded as differ¬ 
ent from tho other six. This world would 
indoed bo monotonous without any of these 
special seasons. How would we reckon tlmo 
did we not h#vo these way-marks-from which 
to count? 
Wo often hear some event referred to as hap¬ 
pening Just after the picnic, a month before 
Christmas, or about the time aucti an one was 
married. Indeod t he ur ivcr»al date from which 
to rookon all events la the time of that most 
Important occasion, the coining of the Saviour 
to earth, so that everything Is spoken of as 
transpiring so many years before or after 
Cn RI8T. 
We are almost constantly looking forward to 
and preparing for something particular which 
Is about to occur. The number of special oc¬ 
casions i like many other good things, liable 
to be carried to an extreme. Many people live 
In such a round of excitement that If a day 
comes to them whon nothing in particular 
transpires, that day Is, from Its rarity, a i pneial 
occasion indeed. 
There Is a tendoncy on the part of some to 
try and make everything special, and they, In 
the attempt, usually succeed in making every¬ 
thing commonplace. When people are In the 
habit of saying that they were never, tn their 
whole lives, eo terribly frightened, that some 
event was so funny they really thought they 
should dlo laughing, or that somebody’s bonnet 
wai “perfectly horrid," their extravagant ex¬ 
pressions go for little or nothing ; and if some¬ 
thing special thovM occur, words would fall 
them entirely with which to describe It. 
While it is true that many people seek too 
much tho excitement of gala days, now and 
then one Is to be found who regards amuse¬ 
ment and recreation eo derived as foollBh, 
thinking that time or means expended to com¬ 
memorate a birthday or other anniversary Is 
wasted. But the children are not of that num¬ 
ber. They are easily pleased with inexpensive 
gifts, and methlnks the memories of home will 
be dourer and the love of its inmates seem 
more real if from time to time the way is 
marked off with some little pleasure which is 
not of everyday occurrence. 
There are, however, some occasions which 
aro controlled by the hand of the Creator Him¬ 
self. He makes special occasions by sending 
grett llre3 and tempests and admitting death 
to our firesides, that unwelcome visitor which 
bars and bolts cannot exclude. At such times 
it is fitting for us to see if He is not wishing to 
teach us some especial lesson, having learned 
which we may lead a higher life. Sometimes 
He. unexpectedly to us, averts *omo Impending 
calamity, and we seem called upon to celebrate 
His goodness. A great day Is awaiting us all 
when a multitude which no man can number 
shall be assembled to be judged. If we now 
prepare aright for It, that most special of all 
occasions will open up to us a glorious and 
eternal hereafter. e. l. w. 
- 4 -*+- 
For some timely talk on the Fashions, see 
“Modes and Manners” on a preceding page. 
A GOOD GREETING TO THE GIRLS. 
* 
BY COUSIN MADGE. 
To the Young Girl Readers of the Ru¬ 
ral, Greeting:— I think the married ladles 
have monopolized the Ladles' Portfolio to the 
exclusion of v;c ffirla, and I eel Inclined to re¬ 
bel just a little; for we are of some Importance 
even though we have not as yet arrived at the 
dignity uf wives. For the last eighteen months 
lecturers and physicians havetakenthe subjeot 
of our education In hand, (and in mouth, too, 
for that matter,) and have flooded tho country 
with their ideas as toour proper education, and 
if we weren't of some consequence so very 
many people wouldn’t interest themselves In 
us. Sw much by way of introduction ; now for 
my littlo talk. 
Girls, I love you dearly, and nil that concerns 
you interests me great ly. It pains me beyond 
expression to see the vast majority of yon liv¬ 
ing such aimless lives. Instead of bending all 
your energies toward the accomplishment of 
some purpose worthy of your endeavors, you 
listlessly wait for the “coming man.” If men 
as a class wero anxious to marry, and If thesup- 
ply of husbands was equal to tho demand, there 
might be some excuse for this state of things; 
but, in view of the fact that, men are continu¬ 
ally becoming more indifferent to marriage, 
and that, as statistics prove, there “aren't men 
enough to go around,” I think it deplorable in 
thoextremo that girls should waste their whole 
live* waiting Tor a man who may never come, 
“God has endowed you with individual life 
with power, will, understanding, hrairi, heart 
and hands,” and He will require that you re¬ 
turn with usury all that he has given to your 
keeping. Even when compelled to support 
themselves, it is rnroly girls put. their heart In 
their work. They regard it merely as an ad-in- 
terlm arrangement, and look forward to matri¬ 
mony to deliver them from whatever of trial or 
annoyauco they experience in the daily round 
of duties. As a result, girls are randy placed In 
positions of trust, and are regarded by business 
men ns unreliable and incompetent. 
I would recommend every girl to porfoct her¬ 
self In some one thing. Select some trade or 
profession and make yourself mistress of It; 
work at It as zealously as though you expected 
to make it your lifework. Even though you 
marry, and marry well, there’s a chance of your 
being widowed, or you may meet with pe¬ 
cuniary losses and be thrown on your own re¬ 
sources—and then, without a trade or profes¬ 
sion, you would probably swell the already 
overcrowded ranks of the poor, underpaid 
sewing women. 
Girls, let. us “ he up and doing.” We owe it 
to ourselves and to those who are or who may 
be related to us to make the very best use of 
the talents given us. God never intended 
there should ne any drones in the bee hive of 
the world. 
“ Better to stem with heart and hand 
The roaring tide <>f life, than lie 
Unmindful, on Its flowery strand. 
Of GOD'S occasions drifting by ! 
“ Better with nuked nerves to bear 
The needles of this goading air, 
Thun in the lap of sensual ease forego 
The godlike power to do -the godlike aim toknoio." 
* ♦ »- 
ANDY JOHN80N’8 MODEL DAUGHTER. 
How Andy Johnson's daughter used to run 
the White House was thus pleasantly told by 
Ex-ftermtor Doolittle In a recent address; 
Whatever may be said In criticism of Mr. 
Johnson’s public course, all parties agree that 
the White House was never more gracefully 
kept and presided over than by his daughter, 
Mrs. Patterson—a perfect lady, a model of a re¬ 
publican mistress of the Whlto House. Let mo 
tell a fact which has never been published, but 
which I had from the lady’s own lips, Just as 
3he waa about to leave, at the end of Mr. John¬ 
son’s administration, the steward of the house 
took an Inventory nod found that not one ar¬ 
ticle of furniture wac missing nr broken; not a 
6heet, towel or napkin was lost; and tho house 
was in perfect order from top to bottom. She 
told mo another face, which I know the wives 
and daughters of Wtsconsin will bo glad to 
bear:—When they went. Into the White House 
she purchased two excellent cows. From the 
milk of these cows she made all tho butter, 
i used all the cream and made all the loe cream 
used in the President’s family during bia term. 
When she went home she shipped these cows 
to Tennessee. Is It any wonder, ladles, that 
Mrs. Patterson received the first premium on 
butter at their Fair last fall ? 
TRUE HOSPITALITY. 
Taint hospitality of the home is never loudly 
and noisily demonstrative. It never over¬ 
whelms you with its greeting, though you bavo 
not a doubt of its perfect sincerity. Ton aro 
not disturbed by the creaking of the domestic 
machluery, suddenlydrlven at unwonted speed 
for your accommodation. Quietly It does its 
work, that It may put you In peaceable posses¬ 
sion of its results. He is not the true host, she 
is not the best hostess, who Is ever going to and 
fro with hurried action, and flurried manner, 
and heated countenance, as if to rhj\ “Bee how 
hospitable I caa be;" but rather the one who 
takes your coming with quiet dignity and 
noiseless painstaking; who never obtrudes at¬ 
tention yet Is very attentive all the while; who 
makes you. In one word—the most expresalve 
word In the English tongue—to be at home. 
There is no richer, deeper, larger hospitality 
than that. 
Reading far thq 
THE FARMER’S BOY. 
The sun hud set behind tho hills. 
And o’er the dreury inoor. 
When tired and lame, ii boy there came 
Up to the farmer's door— 1 
" Oh, can yon tell If any there bo l 
Who will give to mo employ; 
To plow, to sow, t*> reap, to mow. 
To be a farmer’s boy T 
“ My father's dead; my mother’s left 
With her rive children small. 
And what Is worse for mother still, 
I’m the oldest uf them all; 
And though I'm small I fear no work, 
If you will give employ ; 
To plow, to sow, to reap, and mow, 
To be a farmer's boy. 
“ Or if you cannot Ktvo employ. 
One favor yet 1 ask— 
That you will shelter mo this night. 
From this cold, wintry blast; 
At the break of day. I'll trudge away. 
Elsewhere to Book employ, 
For to plow, to sow, to reap, to mow. 
And to be a farmer's boy.” 
"We'll try thee, lad," the farmer said. 
" No further let him seek.” 
"0! yes, dear father.” his daughter cried. 
While tears rolled down her cheek, 
“ For thoso who will work 'tls hard to want, 
And hard to And employ. 
To plow, to sow. to reap, and mow. 
And to h« a farmer's boy. 
At, length In time the buy grew up. 
And the good old farmer died; 
He lei t tho boy the farm he had. 
With his daughter fora bride. 
And the boy that was Is a farmer now. 
And he often thinks with Joy, 
Of the happy day when he passed that way. 
And became a farmer's boy. 
-♦♦♦- 
ABOUT LETTER WRITING, 
Last week we had somewhat to say—and said 
(or wrote) it very hurriedly—to the Boys and 
Girls about Letter Writing for tho Rural. 
Since then we have received the following arti¬ 
cle on the subject of Letter Writing, which, 
though not probably intended for this Depart- 1 
tnent, is so good and appropriate that wc give 
it here for the benefit of our young friends. Al¬ 
though adapted to all ages and both sexes, we 
think it contains many thoughts and sugges¬ 
tions which should be eoimldered and heeded 
by those who Indite letters, epistles, missives 
or communications (which word is right, or the 
best?) for our “Reading for the Young." 
Letter Writing. 
“First we live, then wc write," although an 
old and oft-quoted saying, may In one sense ho 
literally true. But how many lives, pictured in 
rhyme, whose fac simile has been but dimly por¬ 
trayed In real life I In other words, how widely 
dissimilar the story life Is from what tho real 
life has been; stil throughout tho woven woof 
there may run a vein of truth. To the general 
reader the chief interest lies not wholly in the 
story, but In the way It is told. 
To bo able to write well much studious 
thought and a great deal of practice are re¬ 
quired. True, all cannot be equally great In 
the literary world, neither is it desirable, but 
all may acqulro that degreo of proficiency which 
will enable him to put more !n a friendly epis¬ 
tle than “I takemypen In hand.” There hardly 
seems the shadow of an apology for not writ¬ 
ing, more especially If there Is one “from 
home," ami there ia from nearly every house¬ 
hold. And certainly should wo write when we 
have said wo would. “ l will write you," Is 
hardly worth tho breath expended in Its dellv- ' 
cry unless we do write; rather It is worse, for 
after looking and hoping for a letter, and re- j 
colving none, wo cannot help wondering, then 
reasoning, and finally conclude that promiso 
was not good for much. It Is true that If we 
place so littlo value upon our own say i ngs others 
will naturally place leas upon them and our 
reputatlou for truth become, at least, some¬ 
what impaired. Whether we write stories or 
letters we have to exert ourselves somewhat,— 
probably more In writing for publication than 
for our friends. 0 d 6 may sit with pen in hand 
a long time before circumstances will bring 
about events interesting enough to find much 
favor with the general reader, unless they are 
somewhat colored; still at tbo bottom truth 
should lie, «biulng throughout the meshes of 
tbo whole web, like dew-drops sparkling In the 
clear sunlight. 
In writing successfully there should be a mo¬ 
tive aside from tho recompense of dollars and 
cents—aside from the pleasure gained for one’s 
self, save ns that Is derived by making others 
more happy. There must be the motive of 
doing good In its moat, comprehensive sense 
and there must be something studied up to 
write, which must he done earnestly and with 
love. Thoughts should be cultivated or re¬ 
strained ns they partake of good or evil—if good 
their language should be fitting, the work care¬ 
fully chosen and so construed as to convey 
exactly what is Intended. To get the right 
word in the right place at all times Is no easy 
task. 
Our every clay lives, simple as they are, fur¬ 
nish enough incidents, together with the regard 
we have for our friends, to enable us to get up a 
pretty good letter at least once In three or four 
weeks. I mean a letter full enough of Interest 
to make it pay the recipient, while the practice 
of thinking and then imttlng our thoughts upon 
paper, more than pays us. Wo should avoid 
using too many words or making our letters 
too lengthy. In fact, the best ndvico I know of 
was given by SAM Weller, in reply to bis 
father, who said, “That’s rayther a sudden 
pull up, a r n’t It, Sammy?” when he replied, 
“8he'll vish there vos more, and that's the 
great art o’ letter writln’.” Vee. 
-♦ 
THE SIMPLE SECRET. 
Twenty clerks in a store, twenty hands in a 
printing office, twenty apprentices tn a ship 
yard, twenty young men In a villagc-nll want 
to get on In the world and expect to do ao. 
One of the clerks will become a partner and 
make a fortune; one of the compositors will 
own a newspaper and become an influential 
citizen; one of tbo apprentices will become a 
masterbuilder; one of the young villagers will 
get a handsome farm and live like n patriarch— 
but which one Is the lucky Individual? Lucky I 
There Is no luck about it. Tho thing Is almost 
as certain as the rule of three. The young fel¬ 
low who will distance lii$competitors Ishewho 
masters Ids business, who preserves his Integ¬ 
rity, who lives cloanly and purely, who devotes 
his leisure to the acquisition of knowledge, 
who gains friends by deserving them, and who 
saves Ids spare money. There aro some ways 
to fortune shorter than this old, dusty high¬ 
way; but tho staunch men of tho community, 
tho men who achieve something really worth 
having, good fortune, good name, and Berene 
old age, all go on this road. 
-- 
Hints on Hauits. As the snow gathers to¬ 
gether so are our habits formed. No single 
flake that Is added to the pile produces a sen¬ 
sible charigo; no single action creates, however 
it may exhibit a man’s character; but ns tho 
tempest hurls tha avalanche down the moun¬ 
tains and overwhelms the inhabitant and his 
habitation, so passion, nctingupon thoeleinenls 
of mischief, which pernicious habits have 
brought together by Imperceptible accumula¬ 
tion, may overthrow the edifice of truth and 
virtue. 
--» - ■ - 
Pluck and Luck. Boys, be plucky if you 
would be lucky! While ten men watch for 
| chances, one man makes chances; whilo ten 
men wait, for romethlng to turn Up, one turns 
something up ; so while ten fail, one succeeds 
and Is called a man of luck—the favorite of 
fortune. There is no luck like pluck, and for¬ 
tune most favors those who aro most indlffer- 
t ent to Joituoc. 
ILLUSTRATED REBUS.—No. 1. 
ri7“ Answer next weoks. 
BIOGRAPHICAL £NIGMA.-No. 1. 
I am composed of 93 letters: 
My 5,1,10,19, 49, 21, 30, 23, 20, a soulptor. 
My 8,4,3,17.09,9,14, 13,83,7u, a poet and author. 
My To, 25, 6, 70, 35, 12, 70, 50, an Indian maiden. 
My 02, 13, 41, 88. 30, CO, 82, 81, 18, 61, 78, 61, 62, a 
lovely poetess. 
My 7,27, 73, 70, 77, 57, an English novelist. 
My 84, 40, 51, 72,53, a Frenoh novelist. 
My 1, 43, 80,2, another French writer. 
My 30, 37, 08, 43. 45, an historian. 
My 7, 64, 11, 48, 79, 16, 83, 66, a nautical novelist. 
My 55, 1. 85,05, f.A 93, 28, 44, 50, 6,28, », a modern 
novelist. 
My 70, 6, 90, 64, 67, 87, 34, 66, <53, 58, 74, an English 
novelist and poet. 
My 87, 70, 81, 62, 8, 51, 46, 47. a floe essayist and 
poet. 
My 80, 28, 6, 80, 99, 49, 83, 80 a line temperance 
writer. 
My 70, 31, 14, 15, 46, 26, an American poet. 
My 29, 9, 22, 25, y, 62, 83, 88, a poet of whom En¬ 
gland is proud. 
My 15,9, 63,14,91, 9, a well-kaown editor. 
My whole Is an old Dutch proverb, which 
should cheer the farmer at hl» toil. 
Answer in two weeks. Little One. 
■ — 
i DIAMOND ENIGMA.—No. 1. 
A consonant. A burglar’s companion. The 
Freuoh for gloves. Young girls. A city of 
Africa. A number. Disloyal. On a level. A 
consonant. The centrals form a city of Africa. 
ViT Aoswer in two weeks. L. o. 
DECAPITATION,-No. 1. 
My first Is used In addressing kings, queens, 
and people of high rank; take away the first 
and last letter and you have something to cause 
a laugh. 
&J~ Answer in two weeks. A. B. 
