V “ 
/Lp ■*> 
>311_-_ 
Polly had often Baid, when remonstrated 
with by her daughter for her affection for the 
old steelyards that had been part of her dower. 
One of the balls was now hung upon the hook, 
and Mrs. Polly stood, breathlessly awaiting 
the result. It marked just one pound, which 
Boemed to afford her great satisfaction. She 
sat down and began to count the halls, but 
suddenly a new thought seemed to disturb her, 
for the counting ceased, and she deliberately 
turned the basket over, letting all the balls 
roll out. Then she laid all the yellow ones to¬ 
gether In one pile, the green in another, the 
white in another, and so on, till they were all 
sorted out. The blue pile proved to be very 
small indeed—only one ball. 
"JruA," remarked Mrs. Polly to her 
daughter, who hud just entered the room, “I 
do believe 1 shall have to color some more blue. 
I haven't enough cut to make another hall, 
Now I think of it, those painters left a pot of 
blue stuff In the cellar last fall, and I shouldn’t 
be surprised If it was just the thing." 
There is no time like the prosont for Mrs. 
Polly, so her daughter was not surprised to 
see her rise and proceed at once to the cellar. 
Afterafewmlnut.es she returned triumphant¬ 
ly, bringing the "blue stuff " with her. Not 
long after a kettle was put over the Are, and 
Mrs. POLLY might have been seen rushing 
frantically over the house in search of rags. 
"Mother, don’t take my new silk dreas," 
called Julia from the sitting-room. “Spare 
my coat," sang out Jameh, Junior, from the 
hack porch. "The best tablecloths are In the 
top drawer," screamed somebody else from the 
front hall; but Mrs. Polly maintained a dig- 
nilled and severe silence in the midst of all this 
tumult, and calmly plunged Into the boiling 
liquid a whole armful of suspicious •looking 
garments. 
"Julia, Julia, come and see what a beauti¬ 
ful color this is!" exclaimed Mrs. Polly, lift¬ 
ing the smoking cloth up and down on a stick. 
"I'm sure I am very thankful to those paint¬ 
ers." 
It was not long after this that the bright blue 
rags were hung on the line in the back porch 
to dry, and that very afternoon Mrs. Polly, 
well pleased with her success, sat down in bel¬ 
low rocker io cut the beautiful new stripe. 
“ Those rags are so thin, I believe 1 can tear 
them,” she said to herself, and the thought 
was forthwith put into execution. 
“ Mother, what a dust you arc making!” com¬ 
plained the daughter, who did fancy work. 
“ Well, colored rags always make a dust when- 
they are torn,” replied the mother. "It won’t 
hurt auythlng." 
"I should think not! Just Iookat my work !” 
ami she held up a bit of embroidery, covered 
with a flue blue dust.l 
Mrs. Polly does not believe In sewing rags 
for a carpet. She cuts a slit in the end of oue, 
rounds tin* corners of another, then loops them 
together, and it does not take half the lime. 
So this afternoon the blue balls w*ere nearly 
completed before i he door be 11 rang and admit¬ 
ted the omnipresent agent. 
"Madam, can I sell you a beautiful Bible this 
afternoon? If is Very lineiy illustrated, and 
has extra fine paper, and-" 
" We are not in need of anything of the kind 
to-day," said Mrs. Polly, looking despairingly 
around for the fancy-work daughter, who bad 
suddenly disappeared. Every one know that 
Mrs. Polly was utterly powerless before an 
agent. 
"Just allow nie to show It to you,” wont on 
the man, drawing a chair beside her and gazing 
on her face with a kind of fascination. 
" Don’t spend your time, sir ; I shall not care 
to buy it to-day.” 
"Oh,It Is no trouble, madam," still looking 
fixedly at her. “My time belongs to my cus¬ 
tomers," politely. 
" But I have no time,” exclaimed Mrs. Polly 
in despair; and, for once belying her reputa¬ 
tion, she rose suddenly and said, " and besides, 
I shull not buy it—so there isn’t the slightest 
use or your wasting your time further." 
The agent, too, arose, with an angry flush, 
and once more, with that scrutinizing gaze, re¬ 
marked, “ We have them in blue binding, if you 
prefer ," with a strong emphasis on the blue, 
“I want neither blue nor black, nor any other 
color!" following him and closing the door be¬ 
hind him. 
"I can't, think what made him gaze so at 
mo,” thought Mrs. Polly, going back to her 
work. "These agents are so impertinent, I 
have no patience with them." 
The blue balls lay or» top of the basket, and 
the owner felt very proud as she looked at 
them. Evening shadows began to creep in 
through the window, and Mrs. Polly Bat back 
in her comfortable chair and fell fast asleep. 
She was aroused by the singing of the supper 
bell, and going into the dining-room she found 
the family seated around the table. Engaged 
with her own thoughts she was wondering if 
she could get old Mrs. Jones to weave the car¬ 
pet for her; but she soon became aware of the 
same curious gaza bent upon her from the 
members of her family that had so dislurbed 
her in presence of the agent. 
" What are yon all looking at?" she exclaimed 
at last- "I really Bbould like to know what is 
the matter with me;" and she put her hand up 
to her hair. 
A hurst of laughter, echoed by everyone at 
the table, was her reply. 
"My goodness, mother!”said James when he 
could Bpeak, " where have you been ?” 
"What have you been doing, mother? Do 
tell iih !" exclaimed another. “Dear, dear, I 
shall die laughing 1” 
“You arc a Bight, that’s a fact,” said the 
fancy-work daughter. “ 1 wish you’d just look 
j iu the glass!" 
I "I know what it is," remarked Julia ; 
" mother's got the blues!” 
Mrs. Polly flew to the glass, and a "sight," 
surely enough, met her gaze. Her face, hair, 
dress— in fact, every inch of her, from top to 
toe, was covered with a fine, penetrating blue 
dust, from the rags she had colored. Where 
Bhe had put her lingers on her face there were 
long, blue streaks. A ring of blue ran around 
her neck and deep-blue lines defined the eyes 
and nose. Iilues indeed ! Sim certainly had 
them. To say that one bathing sufficed would 
. not be telling “ the truth, the whole truth, ami 
nothing but the truth." Mrs. Polly tried soft 
soap and hard Boap, bay rum, alcohol and am¬ 
monia. When si io was absent you might be 
sure of finding her in the bath-room. Julia 
scrubbed her hair at Intervals for the next 
week. 
“Ladies often color their hair, I am told,” 
said Mrs. Polly, “ but 1 am sure that 1 am the 
first woman who ever dyed it blue." 
There was a roar when she related her expe¬ 
rience with the agent, and even Mrs. Polly 
could not help laughing when she recalled the 
remark about the blue binding. Tbe subject 
afforded the ycunger members of the family 
material for many a joke and sly thrust, and 
Mrs. Polly became wary of mentioning any¬ 
thing concerning color, for some one was al¬ 
ways sure to say " blue.” The carpet rags were 
set away In the attic for a rest, and Mrs. Polly 
never colored any blue from that day. She lias 
never had a blue bow, a blue dress, or in fact 
anything that has that color, since. She oven 
talks of papering over the front chamber, 
which at present sports a blue figure in its 
paper dress. 
-♦ ♦♦-- 
KALAKUA’S PALACE. 
The home of King Kalakua is thus described: 
" The royal palace we found at die eastern ex¬ 
tremity of t he city, surrounded by gardens ami 
lawns three or four acres in extent, and inclosed 
by a wall of rough-hewn coral. A sleepy, bare¬ 
footed sentinel admitted us by a wicket-gate. 
To the left were the barracks, with a few sol¬ 
diers lolling about some light iron cannon. 
And before us a broad, hard avenue, shaded by 
beautiful trees, led to a very simple, one-story 
edifice, lint of coral, taken from the reef in the 
harbor, completely incased by a noble piazza, 
and surmounted by a huge cupola. ‘Inlaid 
Palace,' as it is called, 1 b about one hundred 
and twenty-flvo feet in length and forty feet in 
width. After looking about the grounds, which 
were not kept in very good order perhaps be¬ 
cause the authorities contemplate the erection 
of a new palace—wc mounted a flight of Mono 
steps and entered the royal palace through a 
wooden doorway, which opened into an im¬ 
mense hall. A long table, covered with green 
leather, occupied the center of this room, and 
upon it was a rack of low books. Some admi¬ 
rably-executed paintings adorned tire walls - 
there was a full-length portrait of Louts Fhil- 
lipe. King of the French, one of the Emperor 
of Russia, and a half-dozen of other European 
sovereigns or statesmen. These pal Mings were 
presented to different Kamehamehaa by the 
respective celebrities whose likenesses they 
portrayed. 
“A door opeus from the bull into the library, 
a lofty room with green upholstery. The walls 
were hung with fine paintings of Kamehamelia 
I., surnamed ‘The Great ;' Kamohameha 111.; 
Kamehamelia IV., when a young boy; and Iva- 
humana, the female premier, who was one of 
the first of royal blood to embrace Christianity, 
On one side of the room stood a secretary and 
iron safe; the remaining side contained hand¬ 
some cases, two fllleil with French and two 
with English books—about a thousand volumes 
in all. Among them were several very valuable 
Illustrated and scientific works — Audubon's 
‘Birds of America,’ Wilkes' ‘United States Ex¬ 
ploring Expedition,’ and others. On the cen- 
ter-tuble stood an elegant set of Lord Macau¬ 
lay’s works. Next adjoining the library was 
the ‘crown-room,’ so called because the King 
places tlie crown here In state, upon a mag¬ 
nificent table of native woods. This apartment 
is furnished In brighter colors than the library, 
and contains several very fine steel-plate en¬ 
gravings—two of the British House of Lords 
and Commons In session, one of Prince Albert 
of Englaud, and another of the Duke of Wel¬ 
lington. Crossing the hall brought us to the 
‘grand reception-room,' which occupies one- 
half of the building and bears the same rela¬ 
tion to the lolani Palace as the East Room 
does to the White House at Washington, both 
in position, character and use. The walls and 
the furniture are richly gilded, and two large 
chandeliers, containing each teu lamps, depend 
from the lofty ceiling. At the center of one 
side of this room stands the royal chair of 
state, used by the King on reception days. On 
the wall behiod it hangs a splendid painting of 
Kamehamelia IV., in full uniform.” 
-- 
FAILURE OR SUCCESS IN LIFE. 
Here are useful suggestions from a member 
of the British Parliament, Lord Derby, who is 
a robust, manly man. He says .* 
"Take two men, if they could be found, ex¬ 
actly alike in mental and bodily aptitudes, and 
let one go on carelessly and idly, indulging his 
appetites, and generally leading a life of pleas¬ 
ure, and let the other train himself by early 
hours, by temperate habits, and by giving to 
muscles and brain each their fair share of em¬ 
ployment, and at the end of two or three years 
they will be as wide apart In their capacity for 
exertion as If they had been born with wholly 
different constitutions. Without a normal, 
healthy condition there can, as a rule, be no 
good work ; and though that qualification can¬ 
not absolutely be secured or preserved by any 
rules, a little common sense and care will go a 
long way both in securing and preserving it. 
On that point I would give yon these hints: 
First, That It Is not mental labor which hurts 
anybody, unless the excess be very great, but 
rather fretting and fidgeting over the prospect 
of labor to be gone through; so that the man 
who can accustom himself to take things coolly, 
which Is quite as much a matter of discipline 
I as of nature, and who, by keeping well before¬ 
hand with what he has to do. avoids undue 
hurry and nervous excitement, has a great ad¬ 
vantage over one who follows a different prac¬ 
tice. Next, I would warn you that those stu¬ 
dents who think they have no time for bodily 
exercise will sooner or later have to find time 
for illness. Third, when an opportunity of 
choice Is given, morning work is generally bet¬ 
ter than night work ; and lastly — a matter 
which I should not stop to allude to but that I 
know the dangers of an over-driven existence 
in a crowded t own if a man cannot get through 
Ids day's labor, of whatever kind It may be, 
without artificial support (‘ artificial support 
that means beer or bourbon), it should be a se¬ 
rious consideration forbimwhetherth.it kind 
of labor is fit for him at all." 
j&abballt Reading. 
®h(t Jatq;t![fi tioi'ld. 
NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
The Life ol Jesus the Messiah. A Sacred 
Poem. By ALBERT WKI.Mcs, Society Library 
Building, No.(if University Place, New York. 
This is a finely printed and illustrated octavo 
of modest size, hut attractive In externals and 
contents. It is a remarkable work In some ro- 
speots, and will not only attract the attention 
and perusal of the young, but the seniors, and 
even theologians, will find Interest and merit in 
its pages. Unlike authors who have made 
bulky volumes, too large to be interesting, on 
tbe theme, Mr. Weller lias given the whole 
beautiful story of our Saviour’s Life in lan¬ 
guage as simple as children require, yet the 
dignity of the subject is maiutaiued, while the 
original text of the New Testament has been I 
adhered to In a remarkable manner. Although 
the narrative is continuous, it Is divided Into 
! short sections with appropriate titles, for con- 
vcnicncound adaptability to the youthful read¬ 
er. This Is a happy and original Idea, as the 
story describes the plates and the plates illus¬ 
trate tiie story, page l>y page—nearly half the 
book consisting of plates from the illustrated 
Bibles. _ 
Danger! Or, Wiiundcil iu the House of His 
Friend. Bv T. fj. Arthur, author of "Three 
Years in a Mall-Trap,” "fast Adrift," "Three 
Nights in a Bar-Konm,” Ac., Ac. Ll2mo.—pp. 
,'iji.j I’hlludolpnto ; J. M. Htudrlart a Co. 
This Isa well-written moral story—an earnest, 
startling cry of ’'Danger!" to all given to in¬ 
temperance or even moderate drinking. Jn his 
preface the author asserts that bars aud drink¬ 
ing suloous ure, in reality, not so much the 
causes as the effects of Intemperance—that the 
chief causes lie back of these, aud are to be 
found in our homes—and attempts to unveil 
the hidden sources of the widespread ruin 
which prevails throughout the land. The con¬ 
sequences that flow from intemperance, start¬ 
ing in the privato home saloon, are vividly por¬ 
trayed in a series ufswJfLIy-rtiOviug panoramic 
scones. The book should be widely read and 
must be productive of vast good if Its warnings 
are heeded. 
K_nt erfolt o ! A Story of iixmoor. BvG.J. Whyte- 
Mlil.VU.LK, author Of “ Holiuby House,” " Uigby 
Grand,” “ The Queen’s Maries,” Kte. rt2mo.— 
pp, 813.] Ptrll’a : Porter & Coates. 
Tn is is one of the International Series of New 
Approved Novels so tastefully Issued by the 
publishers whose Imprint they bear. Tbe pres¬ 
ent volume is pronounced the best of all the 
stories by its popular author, being decidedly 
original, full of life, character and action. “The 
Kuter/iltu of the story Is a splendid horse, 
whose performances surpass those of Dick 
Turpin's ‘ Black Beas,' arid who Is the central 
figure around which the human beings appear 
as secondary figures." The story comprises a 
good deal about gipsies and gipsy life, well de¬ 
scribed, and is altogether a very readable ro¬ 
mance. 
Types nnd Emblems. Being a Collection of Ser¬ 
mons Preached on bundays und Thursday Even- 
lugs at the Metropolitan Tabernacle, byO. M. 
SPURGEON. [iCmo.-pp. 289.] New York: Shel¬ 
don & Co. 
The American publishers of the Rev. Mr. 
Spurgeon’s works have issued this volume In 
good style, and It will find many readers among 
our people. It is to be followed by others, 
"Typos and Emblems" being the first volume 
of a series. As Mr. Spurgeon is the most cele¬ 
brated of living preachers, his printed sermons 
must continue to be popular ou both sides of 
the Atlantic. 
The Pirate— by Sir Walter SCOTT—is an¬ 
other volume of the cheap edition of Scott’s 
works now in course of publication by the 
Peterson's of Philadelphia. 
SABBATH BELLS. 
BY AGN'KS M. BURST. 
Oh, Sabbath hells, sweet Sabbath bells, 
So softly chiming on the air! 
Your music to my spirit tells 
Of praise and prayer. 
It soothes sad, care-worn, weary hearts, 
And worldly thought repel3. 
And Heaven-born peace and calm Imparts— 
Sweet Sabbath bells! 
Oil, Sabbath bells of long ago. 
Your echoes float through by-gone years; 
Aud memory's tides In torrents flow, 
Bringing sad tears: 
Tears for the friends of childhood’s time. 
Now sleeping In the dells— 
But still 1 love your every chime, 
Sweet Sabbath bells. 
And now, ns oft as comes again 
The blessed day of holy rest— 
The day I loved and longed for then, 
And still love best— 
My soul shall bend ray Goo before, 
And whilst your cadence swells. 
With humble heart Him I'll adore, 
Sweet Sabbath bells. 
Oneida, 111., 1873. 
-- 
THE LIFE TO COME. 
WifAT does a man take with him when from 
the extreme verge of life he launches into 
what lies beyond ? Jt looks as If he took noth¬ 
ing. Death seems to pass a sponge over all 
that has gone before. Be it the end, or be it a 
new beginning. It seems a total breaking off 
from all that life has hitherto consisted in. 
That Is what makes It terrible. 
But If we look at It truly, bis past life Is just 
the one thing that a man does take with him 
when he dies. He takes himself. And that 
self Is the product of ail his past experience 
and actions. As an oak bears In itself tbe 
result of every shower that through long years 
has freshened it, of every gale that has tough¬ 
ened it or stripped Be boughs, of sunshine that 
has fed it and the drouth that has parched it, 
so a man, when be stands at the end of life, is 
what ho has been made by all bis joys, and suf¬ 
ferings, and actions. That is what he takes in¬ 
to the other world—his own character. 
Tire life to come and the life that now is, are 
parts of one anotner. They are related. The 
man is not the same that the boy was, but 
what the day was, entered into the man as a 
part of him. The strength we gain by our 
victories this year, und the weak ness into 
which we come by defeat, will be a part of us 
next. year. So. there is not on act, not a word 
but casts its influence forward into the to-mor¬ 
row that lies beyond death. 
•-» 4 -» - - - 
TO-MORROW. 
To-morrow may never come to us. We do 
not live in to-morrow. We cannot find it in 
any title deeds. The man who owns whole 
blocks of real estate aud great ships on the sea 
does not own a single minute of to-morrow. 
To-morrow! It fs a mysterious possibility not 
yet born. It lies under the seal of midnight, 
behind the veil of glittering constellations. 
Enjoy the present, whatever it may be, and 
be not solicitous for the future; for If you take 
your foot from the present standing, and thrust 
it forward to to-morrow’s event, you are in a 
restless condition. Jt Is like refusing to quench 
your present thirst by fearing you will want to 
drink t iie next day. If to-morrow you should 
want, your sorrow would come tiiue enough, 
though you do not hasten it. Let your trouble 
Carry till its own day comes. Enjoy blessings 
this day. If God sends them, and the evils of it 
bear patiently and sweetly, for this day is ours. 
We are dead to yesterday and not yet born to 
to-morro vr.—Jeremy Taylor. 
-♦♦♦ ■ 
HAPPY EVERY DAY. 
Sidney Smith cut the following from a news¬ 
paper and preserved It for himselfWhen 
you rise In the morning, form the resolution to 
make the day a happy one to a fellow creature. 
It is easily done; a left-off garment to the man 
who needs it; a kind word to the sorrowful; 
an encouraging expression to the striving- 
trifles in themselves as light as air—will do at 
least for the twenty-four hours. Aod if you 
are young, depend upon it, It will tell when you 
are old ; and if you are old, rest assured it will 
send you gently aud happily down the stream 
of time to eternity. By tbe most simple arith¬ 
metical sum, look at the result. If you send 
one person away happily through the day, that 
is three hundred and sixty-five in the course of 
a year. Aud Buppose you live forty years only 
after you commence that course of medicine, 
you have made 14,COO persons happy—at all 
events for a time." 
-- 
No Songs Heard There.—A recent traveler 
says" What always impresses more than any¬ 
thing else in Egypt aud Palestine has been the 
entire absence of cheerful and exhilarating 
music, especially from the children. You never 
hear them singing in the huts. I never heard a 
song that deserves the name in the streets or 
houses of Jerusalem. One heavy burden of 
voiceless sadness rests upon the forsaken land. 
The daughters of music have been brought low. 
The mirth of tbe tabret ceaseth, the noise of 
them that rejoice endeth ; the joy of the harp 
ceaseth!" 
226 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
