MARCH 6 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
ICS 
foodie., 
REFRIGERATIVE. 
Loved me. (ltd you ?—Well 
Pray how was 1 to tell 
. If you did ? 
Tou wrote a verse or two 
And vowed that they were true— 
* Then you slid. 
Like silly valent! nes, 
And crammed full of rhymes. 
Were your songs. 
I bejtBOd them to retire,— 
I held them in the Are 
With the tongs. 
Tou need not look so black ! 
Yes. I would give them back, 
If I could. 
I cannot give myself, 
No, not for all your pelf, 
If I would. 
The money made f r me ! 
Why, that I cannot see 
Quite so clear. 
Tou thought I’d understand. 
And waited your command. 
Did I hear? 
It's all a sad mtstnks; 
And when you undertake 
Next to plan. 
Remember all the while 
A woman cannot smile 
On a man 
Who wins not her respect; 
And If you e'er expect 
To be wed. 
Just boar In mind that rhyme 
Strangles love for all time, 
It Is said. 
Chester Co., Pa., 1875. s. l. o. 
--- 
HOME DUTIES OE PARENTS, 
BY MARY A. E. WAGER. 
A grown-up young woman was telling me, 
not long ago, of the trials of her childhood. 
One eveat made a marked Impression upon 
her -the reception of her first Love Letter. 
“ 1 was not more than six years old,” she said, 
“ and had not loarned to write a flowing hand. 
The teacher of our school allowed ua once a 
week to have a post-office, and send letters to 
whomever we pleased. Upon one of these oc¬ 
casions, I was delighted to And that some one 
had written to me. It was a real little love let¬ 
ter, beginning with * My Dear Little Sweet 
Heartbut as I could only rend printed let¬ 
ters, I was obliged to get some one to read my 
letter for me—and who should it be? The 
writer was a dear little fellow nine years old ; 
he wore a high-necked, blue-checked apron, 
and 1 thought he was the nicest boy in the 
world, and I already began to dream of living 
with him, as his little wife, In a play house. 
My first thought was to ask my teaohtr to read 
the letter for ine ; and then I thought 6be 
might laugh, or tell some or the scholars, and 
I could not bear the thought of ridicule. So I 
said I would take it homo to my mother, who 
would never laugh, but think, with me, chat it 
waa very nice. So I trudged home with the 
precious missive, and creeping to my mother's 
side asked her to read It for me. As It hap¬ 
pened, there was considerable company at the 
house, and mother, looking over my letter, 
burst into a shout of laughter, then read it 
aloud to all the eonipanj’, which In <turn was 
greatly amused. 
M Well, you may Imagine how deeply I was 
hurt. With all my experience since then I can¬ 
not recall a time when I have been so cruelly 
chagrined as then, and to think that my mother, 
who, above all others, should have appreciated 
my nature and feelings, had berself been the 
first one to wound and abuse my confidence 
was too much for me to bear. The result was 
that I never afterwards gave her my confidence, 
and from that day to this have never shown 
her a single letter I have ever received, and 
never feel inclined so to do." 
The young woman's mother was but a type of 
hundreds of mothers who, through sheer 
thoughtlessness, lack of delicacy and apprecia¬ 
tion of the nature of their children, destroy a 
coiifldence which at every cost should be pre¬ 
served and strengthened between a parent and 
child. The moment a mother Iobbs the con¬ 
fidence of her child's heart Bhe loses the 
strong bold of her influence over him. To her 
child she should be Goo Incarnate In the flesh, 
the grand source of consolation—infinite in 
patience, omniscient In comprehending the 
burdens of childish trials, in estimating the 
Importance of childish affections, a never ex¬ 
hausted fountain of love and tenderness, an 
ear ever ready to listen to tho complete out- ^ 
pouring of a child's heart, of his experiences, 1 
no matter of what character. The philosophy 
of prudence, propriety and fitness ought never ’ 
to come to a child through the ordeal of mis- ’ 
placed confidence, but naturally with the un- | < 
folding of his mind. Grown people And It 1 
hard to keep their thoughts, feelings, and ex- ’ 
perlences to themselves. For a child It is * 
infinitely more difficult, and I know of no kind 
and sympathetic listening, and honorable keep- 1 
ing of faith that jields a sweeter and more 1 
precious condensation than those aocorded to j 
the confidence of a child, and have a troop of t 
little folks up In the country, who, for a part v 
of every year, teach me the wonderful love of C 
! childhood—the ecstacy of see-saw, the delight 
of climbing Into the phaeton that stands in 
the barn, and making a voyage around the 
: | world in fancy, the deep strategy of hide-and- 
seek, the nightly bedside theatricals, when 
u Cinderella" enters upon It-sslxth hundredth 
rehearsal, and a four-year-old pair of blue eyes 
opens wide at the end with a flash of wise 
logic, as the pert little owner rounds off the 
performance with, "I guess yar bot, Aunt. 
May, don’t you, that Cinderella's sisters 
! wlshted they hadn't treated her ao bad when 
I the Prince had corned and tooked her away, 
don’t you? Ido!" And then the curtain would 
fall for the night—the white eyelids with tlielr 
long, dark fringes. 
But the fate of all children is not. so happy. 
In return for their little confidences, and out¬ 
pourings of head and heart, many receive a 
rebuff, a rebuke, ridicule or cruelty in another 
form. The treatment some children receive 
from their parents is such as can be only ex¬ 
plained upon the theory that they come Into 
the world from their own free will, unwelcome 
intruders upon fathers and mothers, who 
regard their appearance and presence as an 
Insolence deserving Insolent treatment. How 
many people in your neighborhood, think you, 
would, If you should ask them whether or not 
they would, In view of what life proves to be 
in joy and sorrow, with the grave at the end, 
have cboseu to be born, had the matter been 
one of Intelligent choice? Life is a hard strug¬ 
gle with the majority of us, and the wearied 
woman who assumes the responsibility of 
calling a human soul into existence should 
never forget tho Immensity of the duty In¬ 
volved, the Immensurableness of the respon¬ 
sibility they assume, and act. accordingly. An 
unfeeling and cruel child Is an object to bo 
pitied and helped up to something better. An 
unfeeling and cruel parent Is a monster, a 
creature beyond the pale of either sympathy 
or respect. 
So, to go back to the beginning, to the young 
woman and her first love-letter, remember to 
treat the confidences of your child with tho 
same delicacy and honor you would accord to 
similar ones made by an adult. You may not 
be able to smooth his way through life with 
such helps as money and position give, but you 
may make his childhood the seed time of a 
noble harvest, tho back-ground in his life's 
picture upon which lie will look back with a 
gratitude and tenderness that w ill ever keep 
one place In his heart soft; a field of memory 
so full of fragrant flowers as to form at least 
one priceless compensation for having borne 
the burden of life. If it be a burden Instead of 
joy. And this should be first among your Home 
Duties. 
-- 
WOMEN PERSONALS. 
The postmistress of Xenia, O., draws a net 
salary of $2,900. 
Sojourner Truth Is very sick at her home 
in Battle Creek. Mich. 
Clara Morris gets $70,000 for forty weeks 
of work, -or play, as you will. 
Mrs. J. M. Osgood, one of Boston’s favorite 
sopranos, has gone to Europe to study music. 
Ellen B. Kingsley of Olathe, Kansas, has 
been Invited to address the Legislature of that 
State on the Industrial education of women. 
Miss Yamagawa Nagai and Miss SbigeSute- 
matsu are two young Japanese ladies, who have 
recently been ou a visit to Mrs. Yoshida, at 
Washington. 
Anna Hobbs, a well-known minister of the 
Society of Friends, died at the residence of her 
daughter, in SpicelanH, Ind , on the 19th nit., 
at the advanced age of 01 } years. 
Miss Brooks of Nortbfleld, Mass., recently 
horsewhipped a young fellow named Kelley, 18 
years old, In tho streets for throwlngan obscene 
publication into her sleigh. 
Jleadittg fur thq Ifoting. 
WAYS OF SAYING YES. 
Characters. —Dr. Twist, t hr School Com.; Miss 
Belle, the Teacher. Scholars, four Boys, two 
Girls. 
Scene: a Schoolroom. Miss Belle seated at her 
desk; Scholars, laughing and talking, outside the 
open door; Or. Twist, knocking at the door. 
Mass B. [opening the door,} Good morning, Dr. Twist, 
I'm sure lr. Is a pity 
My nohool Is just dismissed, since you are school 
commltt.cn. 
Dr. Twist. [entering). Never mind, my dear Miss 
Belle, another time will do; 
I like It Just u well to make my call on you. 
Hies B. Loss to my girls and boys, but I shall bo the 
winner; 
You must excuse their noise, so many stay to 
dinner. 
Be seated. Doctor. 
Dr. T. [Taking ussot.) Thanks. Have you a pleas¬ 
ant place? 
Miss B. Vos. I like tho teacher’s rank. I shall serve 
here all my days. 
Dr. T. Perhaps not so. Miss Belle; it may, ere long, 
be voted 
You fill this place so well, you ought to be pro¬ 
moted. 
How do you And the school ? 
Miss B. Oh I Doctor, they are queer. 
They do pronounce so strangely out in the coun¬ 
try here! 
For instanoe, It is funny, you think so. too, I guess, 
Tho many different ways they have of saying yes. 
Dr. T. Call them and questions ask; my Interest Is 
up. 
Hiss B. John Jones, your morning task, have you 
prepared It ? 
John J. [enters, cap in hand, bows, replies, goes out 1 
l r np! 
Or.T. 11a! ha! Have in another, that little Dutoh- 
tnan raw. 
Hiss B. Peter Boggle, is your mother a little better I 
Peter B. [Enters, replies, retires.] Taw! 
Dr. T. Ask next, yon black-eyed gypsy, that stands 
tho window near. 
Hiss B. Bessie Leo. do you liko apples? would you 
like to have one ? 
Bessie L. [Enters, takes an apple, answers and. re - 
tires.] Yeah! 
Hiss B. I'll call my little Pad, who Is never known 
to miss. 
Do you love vour hooks, my lad? Tell me truly. 
Pad. [Enters, replies, retires.] Falx, ma’am, Tis! 
Ml** B. Come hero, you eurly-pate, do you want to 
bo a mayor. 
Or a president so great, or a school committee ? 
Small. Boil. [Enters, replies very slowly] A-er! 
Dr. T. They give us so much fun they certainly 
repay ns. 
HUS B. Kate, Is your problem done; have you the 
answer 7 
Kate. [Enters, replies, retires.] A.us! 
Hiss B, [Closing the door.] Is It not a curious class, 
a comic recitation ? 
Dr. V. Yes. and it surely has my official approba¬ 
tion. 
Will you my pupil be, while I a question ask, 
Will you rronounce for me, if I give you the task ? 
Miss B. Of course, it all the re st have not been fully 
ample, 
I'll do my very beat, to please with my example. 
Dr.T. 1 came to seek a wife; if now my suit I press. 
Will you leave your school for life? What Is your 
answer? 
Miss B. [Emphatically.] Yes! 
[N. E. Journal of Education. 
Miss Lydia Bradley, a wealthy widow of 
Peoria, ILL, and large stockholder of the First 
National Bank of that place, has just been 
elected first director of the bank. 
Miss Colburn and Miss Burnett left New 
York, March 1, for Peking, China, to join the 
mission with Miss Douw and Miss North, from 
the "Woman's Union Missionary Society of 
America." 
It was a woman, Elizabeth, Countess of 
Thavat, who first petitioned the Irish Govern¬ 
ment for a penny post. This was 172 years ago. 
Subsequently, for that valuable hint, she was 
awarded a pension of £300 sterling per annum. 
The Emperor of Germany was so pleased 
with Miss Hudson's “Life of Queen Louise,” 
recently Issued, that he sent to the author a 
beautiful gold bracelet containing a miniature 
likeness of the Queen wish the initial and 
crown set in turquoises. 
Queen Victoria, on recommendation of her 
Prime Minister, has granted a pension of $250 a 
year to the widow ol Glovani Battista FalcierJ, 
the servant or Byron, who is celebrated In the 
writings of his master, as well as In those of 
Moore, Rogers and Shelley, by the name of 
“Tita." 
Miss Snead, who, as “MissGrundy,” is famil¬ 
iar to most newspaper readers, is dangerously 
111; she has been In poor health for two or three 
years. Miss Snead deserves a separate niche In 
the history of Washington journalism. She 
was the first “ society writer" from Washington 
City. 1 
COURTESIES TO PARENTS. 
Parents lean upon their children, and especi¬ 
ally their sons, much earlier than either of 
them imagtoe. Their love Is a constant Inspi¬ 
ration, a perennial fountain of delight, from 
which other lips may quaff, and be comforted 
thereby. It may be that the mother has been 
left a widow, depending on her only 3 on for 
support. He gives her a comfortalile home, 
sees that she is well olad, and allows no debts 
to accumulate, and that Is all. It is consider¬ 
able, more even than many sons do, but there 
is a lack. He seldom thinks It worth while to 
give her a caress; he has forgotten all those 
affectionate ways that kept the wrinkles from 
her face, and make her look so much younger 
than her years; he is ready to put his hand in 
hts pocket to gratify her slightest request, but 
to give of the abundance of his heart is another 
thing entirely. He loves his mother? Of 
course he does I Are there not proofs enough 
of his filial regard? Is he not continually I 
making sacrifices for her benefit? What more 
could any reasonable woman ask? 
Ah, but It Is the mother-heart that craves an 
occasional kiss, the support of your youthful 
arm, the llttjo attentions and kindly courtesies 
of life, that smooth down so many of its as¬ 
perities, and make the Journey less wearisome. 
Material aid is good so far as It goes, but It has 
not that sustaining power which the loving, 
sympathetic heart bestows upon Its object. 
You think she has outgrown these weaknesses 
and follies, and is content with the crust that 
la left; but you are mistaken. Every little offer 
of attention, your escort to church, or concert, 
or fora quiot walk, bxlngs back the youth of 
her heart; her cheeks glow, and her eyes 
sparkle with pleasure, and oh! how proud she 
Is of her son. 
Even the father, occupied and absorbed as 
he may be, is not wholly Indifferent to these 
filial expressions of devoted love. He may 
pretend to care very little for them, but, having 
faith In their sincerity. It would give him 
serious pain were they entirely withheld. 
Fathers need their sons quite as much as the 
sons need the fathers, but In how many de¬ 
plorable instances do they fall to find In them 
a staff for their declining years. 
My son, arc you a awootener of life? You 
may disappoint tho ambition of your parents ; 
may be unable to so distinguish yourself as 
they fondly hoped ; may find your InteUeetual 
strength inadequate to your own desires, but, 
let none of these things move you from a de¬ 
termination to ho a son of whose moral charac¬ 
ter they need never be ashamed. Begin early 
to cultivate a habit of thoughtfulness and con¬ 
sideration for others, especially for those whom 
you are commanded to honor. Can you be¬ 
grudge a few extra steps for the mother who 
never stopped to number those you demanded 
during your helpless Infancy? Have you the 
heart to slight, her requests, or treat her re¬ 
marks with Indifference, when you eanuot be¬ 
gin to measure the patient devotion with 
which she boro with your peculiarities? An¬ 
ticipate her wants. Invite her confidence, be 
prompt to offer assistance, express your affec¬ 
tion as you did when a child, that the mother 
may never grieve In secret for the son she has 
lost. 
--- 
CORRECT SPEAKING. 
We advise all young people to acquire the 
habit of correct speaking and writing, and to 
abandon as early as possible any use of slang 
words or phrases. The longer you live, the 
more difficult the acquirement of correct lan¬ 
guage will he; and if the golden age of youth, 
tho proper season for tho acquisition of lan¬ 
guage, bo passed In abuse, tho unfortunate vic¬ 
tim, If neglected, is very properly doomed to 
talk slang for life. Money Is unnecessary to 
procure tills education. Every man has It In 
his power. Ho has merely to use tho language 
which he reads. Instead of the slang which he 
hears ; to form his taste from the best speakers 
and poets In tho country; to treasure up choice 
phrases In his memory and habituate himself 
to their use, avoiding at the same time that 
pedantic precision and bombast which shows 
the weakness of vain ambition, rather than the 
polish of an educated man. 
-— - 
“GOOD MORNING.” 
Don't forget to say “good morning!" Say 
it to your parents, your brothers and sisters, 
your school mates, your teachers, and say It 
cheerfully and with a smile; It will do you 
good. There's a kind or inspiration in every 
"good morning,” heartily and smilingly 
spoken, that helps to make hope fresher and 
work lighter. It, seems really to make the 
morning good, and to be a prophecy of a good 
day to come after it. And tr this be true of the 
“good morning." It is so also of all kind, heart- 
some greetings; they oheer the discouraged, 
rest the tired one, and somehow make the 
wheels of Ufa run more smoothly. Be liberal 
with them, then, and let no morning pass, how¬ 
ever dark and gloomy it may be, that you do 
not at least help to brighten by your smiles 
and cheerful words. 
fuller. 
HIDDEN FISHES,—No. 2. 
1. Thrown over his horse’s head, poor Tem 
floundered in the mud. 
2. In yonder barn a clean stable Is always 
seen. 
3. The untamed barb elevated himself on hls 
hind legs. 
4. Remus cleansed Rome of a good many im- 
I purities. 
5. 1 have the sole care of my little sisters. 
9. I l ove to listen to children’s prattle. 
Answer In two weeks. Little One. 
ILLUSTRATED PUZZLE.-No. 1. 
A farmer having 100 acres of land, wishes to 
retain 25 acres for hls own use, dividing the re¬ 
maining 75 acres among hls four sons In suoh a 
manner that each shall have the same amount 
as hfs brothers, tho four parcels being also ex¬ 
actly alike in shape. How Is he to do It ? 
75 acres. 
25 acres. 
i39" Answer In two weeks. a. 
■-♦♦♦- 
PUZZLER ANSWERS.-Feb. 20. 
Historical Emigma No. 1.—" Use this weapon 
In my service so long as ray commands are just, 
but turn It against my nwn breast whenever I 
become cruel or malevolent." 
Drop Letter Puzzle No. 1. —“Look not 
thou upon tho wine when It Is red, when It giv- 
eth hls color In the cup, when It moveth Itself 
aright.” 
.—9a 
