blossoms at one time. It was indeed a regal-look¬ 
ing plant, with Its beautiful bells of crimson and 
purple, which almost seemed to ring out: 
*' Enjoy u* while you may. 
Ere our beauty fades away." 
Now its blossoms are gone. Its leaves are going, 
and it is banished to the cellar to stay until the 
bright days of early spring. We kept It In front 
of a window, and the lavender or the wall-paper, 
shining through the meshes of the curtains, form¬ 
ed a background suited to set oft to advantage Its 
rich beauty. Wo had other and beautiful plants, 
—some of which we now have,—but I’ll not take 
space to tell of them, excepting one, and that a 
Madeira Vine. It wits planted near a cherry tree, 
and after climbing over and entirely covering a 
large rack, reached up Its clinging tendrils and 
lovlugly cutwlut-d Its glossy leaves and branches 
round the old tree, lormtug u charming little 
canopy ror that part of the plant on the rack. 
Some ot the leuves measured twehty-iwo tuches 
In circumference. If the brunches are broken off 
and placed In water, they keep green for many 
weeks, our beuutttul plant has long since lost 
Its glory by the appearance of that King of Ter¬ 
rors to the feminine mind—Jack Frost! 
Cousins, don’t you think It would ho a good plan 
If each oue were to tell just o w way or plan, occa¬ 
sionally, for making some useful or ornamental 
household article, or tiled recipe, or anything 
that might prove beneficial to another? TIow 
many agree with me? I have a few things I 
could tell, but. l fear 1 am already taking too 
much space this time. I may at some future lime 
tell of our Christmas decorations, and how we 
i decorate our home for the time of *• Peace on 
j earth and good-will to men 1” And now, In send- 
“ Why—I—I—came very near handing him a 
quarter this morning, with a command to take It 
and purchase a Christian breakfast for himself!” 
« Ah, I see,;I see,” said my friend; “ I know just 
how It happened—you have been Judging from 
appearances. Hush 1 He is about to commence, 
and you will regret It should you lose hut a slfigle 
word.” 
Nor did I lose a single word. What a plalu. 
lucid and intelligent lecture that was i Radishes, 
salads and even onions have been sweeter morsels 
—to my mind, as well os to roll under my tongue— 
from tnat hour to the present. 
since that time, however, I have been very cart¬ 
ful about coming to conclusions rvoin appearances. 
— Fancier’s journal. 
“OF COURSE I LIKE MY CAT 
PARTED 
I like my cat, I like him well, 
As all the house may see. 
I like him for himself, aud not 
Because the cat likes me. 
He counts his only work in life 
To flourish and bo fat. 
And tbis he does with all hia might 
Of course I like my cat. 
Hia eyes shine out beneath hia brows 
As eyes have rarely shone; 
His beauty Is tbe grandest thing 
That ever cot nut on. 
He wears a paw of wondrous bulk, 
With secret claws to match, 
And puts a charm in all its play. 
The pat, the box, the scratch. 
Hia mouth and whiskers, richly wrought, 
Some thoughts of prey express, 
But put your hand between bis teeth 
And prove his trentleness. 
We understand the savuge farce. 
The game of frown and growl. 
We know tbe soft, forbearing bite. 
And never trust the scowl. 
I have uot heard how cats are made 
Within their furry veil, 
But rather fancy Tipper's thoughts 
Lie chiefly in his tail. 
For while in every other part 
His portly person sleeps, 
That bushy tall with steady wave 
A ceaseless vigil keeps. 
It seems to say (uh something weighed 
And inly understood), 
“ Thus to be happy, O my friends, 
Is to be truly good.” 
Oh never a word he answered 
And never a word spake she ! 
They turned their faces each from each. 
And looked upou the sea. 
The hands that canuot clasp for life, 
Must quickly severed be, 
The love that Is not large enough 
To live eternally. 
In true love’s name, for fair love’s fame, 
Must Jie before its bloom; 
For it, in all God's* earth or heaven, 
There is no garden-room. 
Though all the wine of life be lost. 
Try well the red grapes' hue. 
Holy the soul that cannot taste 
The false love for the true. 
And blessed eye the fainting heart 
For such a thirst shall be,— 
Yet never a word they spoke, aud looked 
Upon the bitter sea. 
[Elizabeth, Stuart Phelps, 
STOCKINGS 
A few years ago the feminine nose was tilted 
high in the air at the mere mention of colored 
stockings. They were considered inelegant, un¬ 
ladylike, aud, above all, unfashionable. Only the 
whitest of white hosiery was allowable. Then 
came an Innovation in the shape of Balbrlggnns, 
which were of that peculiar creamy tint, so well 
known and so much liked even from the hist In¬ 
troduction. Then silken hosiery, matching the 
colors of evening toilets, was exhibited, but these, 
alas! were attainable by only the rew. Since 
then the caprice for fancy stockings has Increas¬ 
ed, and now the Balbrlggan, Which Is the stand¬ 
ard hosiery, divides honors with scarlet and blue 
and brown, and, latest ot all, black stockings. 
The fancy for striped hosiery seems waning, at 
least they are no longer considered the first mode, 
although they are still very much worn, hut the 
popular caprice Just, now seems to point toward 
plalu, solid aud \ err dark colors. The grays are 
exceedingly dark, being more nearly a deep slate 
or drab than the pure gray, which Is of a lighter 
tint. Seal brown, or eveu the darker shade, cull¬ 
ed negre, are very stylish, and so are the uavy 
•md ink blues. These, however, were all seen 
NEVER TRUST TO APPEARANCES, 
Some years ago l was spending a summer holi¬ 
day week in the pleasant town of Princeton, N. J. 
It was while Nassau Hall was In session, and my 
friend 8-was undergoing a course ot sprouts to 
fit himself for district attorney of the Quaker 
City and other places which he has so ably aud 
honorably filled. 
A series of lectures had Just been commenced, 
and among the lecturers were Prof. Henry, now 
of the Smithsonian Institute, Prof. Torrey (since 
deceased) and several other bright lights in the 
walks of science, but whose names I need not 
" trusting to ap- 
“ And 1 Lov® Her.” 
Mr. Editor :—Will you accept me as a Cousin? 
I am a farmer’s boy, fourteen years old, and do 
some farm work. Last summer I made up my 
mind I wanted an education, and so I went to 
school; 1 am going this winter. Norman Ketes 
was smart with his potato digging, but 1 believe 
that he did not dig as many us stated. Last sum¬ 
mer we kept, various breeds of poultry, and In the 
fall we sold all but the Butr Cochins and Golden 
Spangles. I think these are the rowla for the 
farmer. 1 think Younu Artist wrote a splendid 
letter, and I like her. Florence wrote a good 
give in what 1 have to say about 
pearances." 
To attend these lectures my friend 8-gave 
me a most cordial welcome, kindly promising me 
a chair by his side, provided I would be punctual 
in attendance. 1 accepted the Invitation most 
gladly, and every morning at the sound ot the 
college bell 1 mounted the well-worn stone steps 
wuich led to the lecture room In Nassau Hail, and 
at least 
EXOELSIOR, 
By a Young Rural Artist 
was promptly seated by the side of 8 
five minutes before the lecturer for the morning 
made his appearance. % 
In those days l was an early riser, and took long 
ante-breakfast walks, wherever i was, and on one 
of the lecture-day mornings I was taking a 3t,roil 
In that, partot the town Mrs. Part ington called 
tho '• Rhubarbs,” when, In the truck garden be¬ 
longing to a Hue brick mansion, I observed a man, 
apparently beyond t he middle age, poor in appear¬ 
ance physically as well as garment!othp), gath¬ 
ering roots and herbs, doubtless, 1 thought, for a 
matutinal meal. Poor old inau, thougbM, Home- j 
less, perhaps—certainly trespassing in some one’s ; 
kitchen garden—foraging among the radish, onion 
and lettuce beds, for a miserable breakfast! 1 
wonder If you have any bread to complete your 
Grahamlte meal ? And must you wash down that 
miserable stuff with simple atrua pura, instead or* 
good, hot Mocha or Java? Poor old man! 
As these thoughts of pity and sympathy ran,, 
their object approached near enough for me Ur 
more particularly note his appearance. His old 
straw hat, his well-worn alpaca coat, Ids common 
brown linen browsers, arid his low, uubiackcd, 
patched shoes, all put together, would have been 
dear, 1 thought, at live dollars for the lot. I put 
my hand In my pocket for some change, intend¬ 
ing to bestow upon him enough at least for a loar 
of bread, but as be came nearer and nearer to tho 
fence where l was standing, I saw something in 
his face which forbade the to offer the pittance- 
something which said I might, hurt his feelings, 
or that a stranger had no right to recognise his 
poverty, and without bestowing It, or even a > 
word, upon him, I turned away, resumed my j 
homeward walk, and In due time sat down to my 
own ample breakfast, with many a thought about I 
the poor old man and his breakfast, ere I wended 
my way to the “campus," aud sauntered under 
the fine old elms which shade Nassau Hall, until 
the bell rang for lecture, when In a few moments 
1 was In my appointed chair, seated beside my 
friend S—. 
“ What do we have tills morning?” 
“ Botany,” briefly answered 8—. 
“ Who do we have ?" 
“ Prof. T-y,” said my friend. 
“ Is he good ?” I Inquired. 
“Good!” echoed 8-. “Walt till you have 
heard him, and you will not ask that question 
again.” 
Just then the private door leading to the lect¬ 
urer’s desk swung open, aud In walked—my old 
acquaintance of the morning, atruw hat, alpaca 
coat, linen trowsers, low shoes, leeks, onions, rad¬ 
ishes, lettuco and all. I certainly was “ flabber¬ 
gasted,” and, while the “ poor man” was arrang¬ 
ing his specimens for a lecture on botany, I had 
Just time to ask the following questions of my 
friend: 
“ Who did you say was to lecture ?” 
“Prof. T—y." 
“ Is—ah-er—that he ?” 
“Yes.” 
“ Does he live a little way out of the town—flue 
brick house—very large garden, truck patch, and 
so on ?’’ 
“He does. It Is one of the finest properties 
about here.” 
“Does he own It?” 
“ Yes, and much property beside. Why do you 
ask all these questions?” 
CURTAILMENTS 
1. curtail an Island In the Chesapeake, and 
leave to know. 
2. A town of West Virginia, and leave a body of 
water. 
3. A lady's name, and leave a man’s name. 
*». A lake Of Louisiana, and leave turf. 
6. A poet of old, and leave wbut every oue loves, 
o. a river of Mississippi, and leave a fruit. 
i. A river of Mississippi, and leave a river of En¬ 
gland. 
a. a river of South Carolina, and leave lettuce, 
u. a State, and leave a sort of complexion. 
10. A river of North Carolina, and'leave ft river 
or England. 
11. A river of North Curollna, aud leave an in¬ 
terjection. 
12 . An island In Lake Michigan, and leave a cow. 
13. A river of Dlltlsh America, and leave a verb. 
14. An affirmation, and leave a pronoun. 
16 . a quarrel, and leave a city of Europe. 
16. To spring quickly, and leave a planet. 
IT. To reject, and leave part of a cock. 
13. An isle of oceanlca, and leave a male fowl. 
Little One. 
CROAKERS, 
Did you ever see them? One of those devout 
human croakers—persona who seem horn for the 
express purpose of making everybody uncomfort¬ 
able with whom they come hi contact. The only 
pleasure they take is in shaking their heads and 
sniveling about the dreadful world we live In. It 
the weather is beautiful and sunny and evei>- 
thlng in nature laughs, they will look wise and 
croak, •• It’s a regular wealhertueeder; we shall 
pay for this.” It Is always too hot or too cold, too 
wet or too dry; nothing suits. They never be¬ 
lieve in recreatlau of any klud. People were put 
in tills world to work; and they will harp on It 
until Lhe very name of labor becomes distasteful. 
And then they have such a mealy-mouthed way 
of covering up their meanness—groaning over the 
wickedness of the age. “No wonder accidents 
happen and sickness comes 1 There must be some 
way to stop persons from being so vain and light¬ 
hearted.’ ’ I tell you 1 hate such folks. A right- 
down ugly person any one can get along with, 
but these pious croakei-s—well, 1 hope they will 
finally get to Heaven. Amelia. 
Mr. Editor :—Inclosed please tlnd a sketch tnf 
my drawing, which you. In No. for Aug. lv, re¬ 
quested or the young artists. I shall he pleased! 
If it proves worthy of your notice. I am attendt- 
lng school about two bundled miles from home 
1 have seven studies, of which this drawing Is one. 
I think that Monsieur might send a sketch to the- 
Rural. Many thanks for printing my letter. 
Oct., 1376. Mdi.lk. Geraldine. 
[The above letter tells Ito own story. We regret 
that our young friends did not respond more gen¬ 
erally to the request, as It Is quite evident, from 
the drawing glveu above, that talent does exist 
among the Rural young folks.—E d.] 
tw~ Answer in two weeks. 
CROSS-WORD ENIGMA, 
My first Is lu England but not In Japan, 
My second Is in Corea but not. In Anatn; 
My third is in Deumark aud also In Greece, 
My fourt h is In Jamaica but not in Ballze; 
My flttn la 111 Spain but not In Bremen, 
My sixth Is In Tunis and also in Sweden; 
.My seventh is In Saxony but not in Peiu, 
My whole is a country. Guess you ? 
sir Answer In two weeks. w. c 
LETTERS FROM BOYS AND GIRLS 
DON’T HURRY, GIRLS 
one of the crying evils of these times Is the ten¬ 
dency and disposition of girls to get through girl¬ 
hood hurriedly aud get Into womanhood, or rather 
Into young-ladyhood, without waiting to enjoy 
the beautiful season of girlhood. Speaking on 
this point. Bishop Morris says:—’* Wale patiently, 
my children, through the whole limit of your girl¬ 
hood. Go uot alter womanhood; let It come to 
you. Keep out of pubUe view. Cultivate retire¬ 
ment aud modesty. The cares and responsibili¬ 
ties of life will come soon enough. When they 
come you will meet them, l trust, aa true women 
should. But oh, be not so unwise as to throw 
away your girlhood. Rub not yourselves of this 
beautiful season, which, wisely spent, will bright¬ 
en all your future life.” 
ranks; and second, I’ll tell why I’ve not appeared! : 
ugalu ere this. My delay has not been entirely 
intentional, for l was willing and anxious to meet 
you all once again, but could not do so, and l hop® 
all will “take the will for the deed." But whar. 
shall I write you this time ? A ny thing about my 
trip to tbe Centennial, or do you turn faint at. 
agalmhearlng the much-mentioned word? Per¬ 
haps I’d better leave the subject alone for the- 
present. But allow me to ask just one question: 
How many of my Cousins, who were fortunate- 
enough to see the Great Show, saw a picture in. 
Gallery E, Memorial Hall, entitled “Venus led by 
Love ?” It was hung above the door, in rapier an 
obscure and high position, though not higher, in 
one sense of the word, than It deserved, for It was* 
truly beautiful. I have never seen a written ac¬ 
count of It, or met any person who saw It, except¬ 
ing our own party. Cousin Editor No. 1,1 thank 
you for your proposed exchange, and might ac¬ 
cept, but where, where may you he found ? And 
don’t you think It might be well, even now, to- 
make tbe same offer to the bellt ot our ranks, pro¬ 
vided she can give an equivalent lor value re¬ 
ceived ? I must tell cousin Cora, the little florist, 
something about our flowers. In September, we*- 
had a Double Fuchsia which had 126 buds and 
Illustrated Kebus.-I can’t understand what you 
are thinking. 
Diamond Puzzle.— 
c 
OLD 
QUERY 
NERVOUS 
CLEVELAND 
I R E L A N D 
PEARL 
ONE 
D 
Conscience is Jesus whisper- 
A thing- of beauty is a 
A clergyman has Just united In marriage a 
couple whose names were respectively Benjamin 
and Ann. “ How did they appear during the cere¬ 
mony ?” asked a mend. “ They appeared both 
Anniemated and Bennlefltted," was the reply. 
Mosr men call trettlng a minor rault, a foible, 
and not a vice. There la no vice except drunken¬ 
ness which can so utterly destroy the peace, the 
happiness of a home. 
Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Is at work on a story 
which will take up the woman question. 
Chemical Enigma. 
in# to our hearts.” 
Biographical Enigma. 
Joy forever.” 
