slty there was for the humbly apologetic preface 
which adorn a tlio front pago of the book. Not, 
even the philanthropic motives which Impelled 
the writing of thla work—for Is It not a protest In 
behalf of abused Heroes and Heroines—can 
reconcile us to It, and wo sincerely hope that the 
society o( authors, against, whom Miss Hodge In¬ 
veighs will not ho Influenced to model their 
stories In future after the one under review, if 
there Is the slightest, ground for any apprehen¬ 
sions of this sort, wo shall never cease to regret 
that the fair Abioati'r reformatory proclivities 
led her to resolve herself lulo a committee of one 
on “ Cruelty vo Brain Creations.” 
If Kate IIateland Is to be taken as a fair 
sample of thu ** heroine of the future,” we protest 
most earnestly against authors being reformed. 
It seems to be merely a ([Uestlon of cruelty to hero¬ 
ines, or inhumanity to ourselves, and we declare 
unhesitatingly m favor of the former Heroines 
may be made to agonize, to commit harl-karl—to 
Immolate themselves on ruucml pyres to—In 
fact go through any amount of torture and we 
will submit,, ir author* will only spare us the 
Infliction of characters of the Jiavlland stripe. 
The dialogue Is amazingly poor. Ills disfigured 
by puns, slang and u constant and palpable 
effort at being brLlltant. To sum up: Those 
who have an interest in seeing what sort of a 
novel Miss Dodge can write, will do well to pur¬ 
chase a copy of First Love, It Is good—as a curi¬ 
osity. 
“ Thco 5 ” A Love Story. By Mrs. T. H. Be It NETT, 
author of " That, Lass o' Lowries." Philadelphia.: 
T. B. Peterson & Brothers. Papoi--pp. 332 ; 50c. 
Ordinarily, the announcement, “ A Love Sto¬ 
ry,” would prejudice us against a work, as our 
experience bos been that usually the most mawk¬ 
ishly sentimental or tales are so labeled; but 
having read with much pleasure Mrs. JUtknbtt’s 
earlier novel, we were willing to take oven an 
avowed “love story” from her pen on trust, and 
we have to report that our confidence was not 
misplaced. “Tlieo" Is a charming tale. The 
principal interest, of the story centers In the hero¬ 
ine aud her unfortunate attachment for a mort¬ 
gaged man. She Is a delightfully fresh creation; 
one, the like of which wo question whether It Is 
possible for the rnlnd masculine to conceive and 
elaborate. If the sale of the book Is commensur¬ 
ate with Its merits, the publishers will reap a rich 
financial harvest. 
Hit* Grandmother* 1 A Summer Salad. New 
York : G. P. Putnam fc Sous. Paper—pp. 102; 50o. 
As babies, children, husbands, wives, aud raoth- 
ers-ln-law have been successively Introduced l.o 
the public, It, Is, wo suppose, quite In order that 
Grandrnotheia should be added to the gallery 01 
family portraits. The story Is uneven; the open¬ 
ing chapters give promise of a really clever story, 
but the latter part of the book Is commonplace. 
Grandmother 00den Is a forcible character, and 
most unlovely, withal. If she were a “typical 
Grannie,” wo should most certainly advocate a 
return to the ancient method of dealing with the 
aged. But gentle Grandmother May fortltles our 
faith In the attractive possibilities of elderly hu¬ 
man nature, and checks our murderous thoughts. 
The New Hehool Ma'am. Boston: Lorluif. Pa¬ 
per—pp. 110 , wejtt 
Is the story ot a some what eccentric young lady 
who prefers teaching a country school to luxuriat¬ 
ing at Saratoga during one summer. With a smile 
and a word, the heroine captivates all who come 
in contact with her, save only soAe envious wo¬ 
men. We confess to a liking for girls “ who have 
moods aud tenses;” perpetual amiability smacks 
too strongly of Inanition to attract us. For the 
rest, the story Is, on Urn whole, mediocre, the sit¬ 
uations, dialogue, and t he characters have neither 
originality nor brilliancy to recommend them. 
Orton «fc ftndler'ft Uiisiuf** Accountant anil 
Ansisinni 1 together with improved Interest 
Tables. Baltimore, Md.; W. 11. Sadler, illus¬ 
trated-pp. 301. 
This work la very thorough, practical and lucid. 
It contains interest tables, a table of ready calcu¬ 
lations, weights and measures, aud Is replete with 
calculations and examples that will be a dally 
help to those using the book, it is Just such a 
work as Is Indispensable to the farmer, merchant, 
teacher, book-keeper, etc. 
They all Do It. ByJ. M, Bailey. Boston: Lee 
& Shepherd. Cloth—pp. 313; tL50, 
This Is a careful compilation of the cream of 
the Danbury News Man’s contributions, covering 
a period 01 four years. The author and his style 
of writing are too well known to need any intro¬ 
duction or comment from us. We will only say, 
enpassant, that those who enjoy a “little non¬ 
sense now and then,” will do well to ttnd for 
themselves what It Is “ They all do.” 
“ Fifteen Cent Dinners” ior Families ol Six. 
New York; Published and edited by JOi.nti 
New York: Published and edited 
Corson. 
This Is a valuable little manual, and we would 
like to know that evory “ Rural” housekeeper had 
a copy of it. Miss Corson Is the author ot a num¬ 
ber of other works on cookery, and those who uro 
Interested in domestic economy would do well to 
address her at 8, Kt. Marks Place, New York. 
Woman at Work. A Monthly Journal of Prog¬ 
ress for Uaofnt People. Louisville, Ky.: $1 per 
annum. 
This is a little magazine devoted to the Interests 
of working women, and Its editors say of It that 
its “ chief ambition is Its usefulness.” 
-♦ ♦♦ - 
Music.—“Dear Old Homestead,” by Miss Anna 
C. Hilts. 
CONDUCTED BY FAITH RIPLEY. 
DRIFT. 
BY JOHN CECIL. 
I had sworn to be a bachelor, she had sworn to be a 
maid, 
For we both agreed in a-doubting whether matrimony 
paid; 
Besides, l had my higher aimB—for science filled my 
heart, 
And she said her young affections were all wound up 
In art. 
So we laughed at those wise men who say that friend¬ 
ship cannot live 
'Twixtuian and woman, unless each has something else 
to give. 
Wo would he friends, and friends as true as o’er were 
man and man— 
I’d be a second David, aud she Miss Jonathan. 
We liked each other, that was all, and quite enough to 
say; 
So we J ust shook hands upon it in a business sort of 
way. 
We shared our sorrows and our joys; together hoped 
and feared -. 
With common purpose sought the goal which young 
ambition reared; 
We dreamed together of the days, the dream-bright 
day* to oenuo; 
We wore strictly confidential, and called each other 
“ churn,” 
Aud many a day we wandered together o’er the hills— 
r seeking bug* aud butterflies, aud she the ruined mills 
And rustic bridges and the like, which picture-makers 
prize. 
To run iu with their waterfalls,and groves, uud sunny 
skies; 
Aud many a quiet evening, in hours of full release, 
We floated dowu the river, or loafed beneath the trees, 
And talked in long gradation, from the poets to the 
weather, 
While the summer skies and my cigar burned slowly 
out together. 
But throngh it all no whispered word, or tell-tale look 
or sigh, 
Told aught of warmer sentiment than friendly sym¬ 
pathy ; 
Wo talked of love as coldly as we talked of nebula?, 
And thought no more of being one than we did of be¬ 
ing three. 
" Well, good-by, old fellow’’—I took her hand for the 
time had come to go— 
My going meant our parting, when to meet we did not 
not know; 
I had lingered long, and said farewell with a very 
heavy heart, 
For, though we were but friends, you know, ’t is hard 
for friends to part. 
** Well, good-by, old follow; don’t forget your friends 
across the sea, 
And some days, when you've lots of time, just drop a 
line to me." 
The words came light ly, gaily, but a great sob JnBt be¬ 
hind , 
Rose upward with a story of quite a different kind, 
Ami then she raised her eyes to mine, great liquid eyes 
of blue, 
Full to the brim and running o’er, like a violet cup 
with dew— 
One long, long look, and then I did what I never did 
before; 
Perhaps the tear meant friendship, but I think the kiss 
meant more. 
-*■*■■*■- 
ANSWERS FOR “O. G.” 
IT seems to be a somewhat difficult matter for 
me to make myself understood. 1 certainly sup¬ 
posed my stylo was lucid, at least: but Judging 
from the comments which have been made on my 
recent reply to kkmknoahde, I concluded that 
either the ladles who have noticed my article are 
deficient I a penetration, or that perspecuity Is not 
an attribute or my stylo. As a matter or courtesy 
to my fair opponents, I shall consider the rnull 
lies with me, and “ rise to explain.” 
Faith Ripley, m her salutatory, spoke at, rath¬ 
er than to mo, so that 1 do not feel called upon to 
sot up a defense; but as Geraldine Germane 
submits some queries for my special considera¬ 
tion, I shall talce up the gauntlet. 
in the first place, I object to being accused of 
< mucking Eemengakdk. I differed with the lady, 
and I so stated; but what I said can hardly be 
characterized by so tierce a word as '* attack.” 
Again, t most emphatically deny ever comparing 
Intemperance to duelling. Nothing could possi¬ 
bly be more absurd. A more careful reading ot 
my “ ungaliantly Insinuating attack” will sljow 
Miss Germane that what I did was merely to cite 
the gradual change of public sentiment In the 
matter; no comparison was instituted between It 
and any other vice. 
So you are prepared to detend duelling as 
against intemperance, on the ground ot Its hav- 
lngbeenart “affair ot honor?” Are you not aware 
that it la only ot late years that alcoholic bever¬ 
ages have been tabooed? Until recently, It was 
considered “b id form” tor men not to Indulge 
generously In wtnc-blbbtng. A little research 
will show you that Intemperance is equally as re¬ 
spectable (?) as duelling, surely, your temper¬ 
ance zeal must have run away with your discre¬ 
tion when you allowed yourself to be betrayed 
into condoning murder, even though it was only 
tor the sake ot argument. 
Having no acquaintance myselt with “ rumsel- 
lers, turkey-buzzards or jackals,” I do uot tcel 
quallilcd to express an opinion. I am, therefore, 
willing to accept your estimate or them, suppos¬ 
ing it to be founded, ot course, on an Intimate 
personal knowledge ot their salient characteris¬ 
tics. I think you rather overrate the attractive¬ 
ness ot docilIty and ignorance. 11 the reason you 
assign for women preferring the study of the toil¬ 
et to any other department ot information Is the 
true one, tne natural inference would be that 
t.hoose among women who chose the “better part” 
of Intellectual culture, are left mateless. FactB 
prove the reverse Is the rule. Most ot our women 
prominent In art, science and literature, have 
been married. 
Madame, I am that monster who can and who 
does, In spile of your pathetic appeal, charge to 
the account of women the world’s HI looks and 
much of Its 111 behavior. If plainness was confined 
to the lower classes, your special pleading might 
be of some avail; but the fact that ugliness and 
sin. like “honor and shame, from no condition 
rise,” somewhat Impairs the effectiveness of your 
argument. 
No, I don't, bplong to those among my sex who 
are so presumptous as to limit, women’s sphere of 
operations. I would not deny them any privi¬ 
leges or opportunities, and I am at a loss to under¬ 
stand how any one could possibly Infer from my 
Ermengarde letter, that I advocated putting any 
obstacles In the way of woman’s advancement. 
Free Lance. 
- •♦ ♦♦- 
INDOOR DECORATION FOR WINTER. 
BY .MARY A. E. WAGER-FISHER. 
I have been in tho woods to-day to gather my 
supply of ripe ferns and trailing vines for winter 
bouquets and decorations. 1 use the word “ ripe” 
to designate the palo yellow, or wood color 
through which the fern passes from Its green to 
Its decayed condition. The transition time Is not 
long, aud unless the fern beds are watched, the 
delicate tips of the fronds are withered and lost,. 
But to-day they were perfect, the great plots of 
them looking like spaces planted with palo, soft 
plumes. Green ferns are extremely line, when 
nicely pressed, but for some purposes the ripe 
ones are infinitely beyond them in beauty. 
Having idled a large market-basket with the 
delicate beauties, 1 hastened homo and at once 
put them to press. For this purpose, as well as 
for all sluilllar ones, I use newspapers of a uni¬ 
form size; it the paper is quarto 1 u form, i cut it 
in half, which leaves two pages folded together 
to place on the top of each layer of leaves. It the 
end of the leaf-stalk Is crooked or unwieldy 
rrom stiffness, 1 clip It off, then strip off any 
withered or decayed portions or the Trend -and It 
usually happens that the lower leaflets are 
withered by the time tho end ones are rlpo—lay 
the fronds smoothly on the paper, giving each 
one so much room that none of the delicate Ups 
Is Interfered with, or likely to be frayed from 
the outside of tho press; so on until ad are 
placed, on the top I put a perfectly Hat board, 
a little longer and wider than are the papers, and 
on top of this, roll a pair or dumb-bells weighing 
50 pounds. At the expiration of three or tout- 
days, I shall remove the weights In order to 
transfer the ferns to fresh, dry papers for a final 
press. I shall And the leaves somewhat discolored, 
and must exercise earc In lining them from their 
places. They are left in press until November, 
when 1 put, my library In Its winter dress. For 
tho pale ferns, 1 line a small straw-basket, with 
paper (a round paper-box In ilcu of a basket will 
serve) rill It, with dry sand; Into this bed of sand 
the fern stems arc stuck, not too many, as ferns 
do not look well crowded. Of course some taste 
must be exercised In the arrangement,, placing 
the tallest ferns In tho middle and smaller ones 1 
placed about t he edge so as to slightly rail over 
the edge of the basket. But the basket, If neatly 
done, win be exquisite beyond all expectation to 
the new beholder, and ono that, If refurnished 
once a month with fresh ferns, will never weary 
or tire the eye. The center of a table Is tho 
prettiest place for such an ornament. 
For wall decorations, I llnd that pressed vines, 
such as tho running blackberry, and live-lingered 
(American) Ivy, gathered alter the leaves have 
reddened, serve admirably. For vines, as well as 
autumn leaves of all kinds, a very heavy press Is 
needed. Bright Collage should always be gath¬ 
ered while still on the tree, and not after the 
leaves have fallen. Do not break off the leaves, 
but put twigs and small stemmed branches with 
the leaves attached, In the press, carefully dis¬ 
posing the leaves to ilatness. I Uave never yet 
used a hot Iron, or wax,or varnish, applied to 
leaves, with any success equal to the simple press, 
changing the papers rrom three to five times. 
So treated, the leaves retain their color, and re¬ 
main uncurled for months on tho wall, even lu 
a constantly healed room. 
Last fail, having a room, the walls of which 
were glaringly white and smooth, (done in what 
Is termed “ hard ttnlsh,”) 1 experimented with 
pressed, small, green ferns aud autumn leaves, 
vines, etc. These, applied to the wall with a so¬ 
lution of gum-arabic, were arranged so as to 
form a vlne-Uke appearance, about window cas¬ 
ing, tlreboard, etc. The effect was so bright and 
pretty, as to win from not a few visitors an ex¬ 
pression of belief that the decoration was real 
painting on the wall. When the warm summer 
days again came, although the work still remained 
in a good state, I had It removed; a stiff brush 
and warm water soon removing all trace of orna¬ 
mentation, leaving the wall clean and white as 
before. When walls are covered with a light, or 
neutral shade ot paper, the leaves may be deftly 
attached to a tiny thread Of wire, and tile entire 
celling be bordered with them, a few plus adjust¬ 
ed at intervals, holding the wire in place. I have 
also seen rooms prettily decorated with clumps of 
leaves fastened around white painted door and 
window easing*—pins doing the duty of nails; 
similar clumps being also fastened to the cords of 
picture frames. 
Where one has a smoothly finished or painted 
| wall for a back-ground, the task of app; lag the 
leaves with mucilage is easily and quickly ac 
cornpllshed, tho chlerest difficulty .being In the 
arrangement, as It requires some degree of artist¬ 
ic skill. No splendid piece of furniture, or fine 
work of art, could have given my room the look 
of picturesque and attractive brightness'that did 
the fern and autumn leaves, which cost, no money 
The pleasure they gave me, could not be estimated 
for when A naximandkk came home at night from 
his office, lie would remark, time after time, the 
whole winter through, looking about lilm with a 
contented smile; “ This is, really, a very pleasant 
room Mary,” 
I was also not slow to learn that the large, green 
ferns, with a judicious sprinkling of bright leaves 
Interspersed, formed a pretty and effective back¬ 
ground for statuettes, and busts. During the 
summer, tall and thrifty stalks of Perllla Nn. 11 - 
klnonsls, (the stem placed In a small bottle or 
water which was concealed) were equally ser¬ 
viceable arid formed an agreeable and appropriate 
summer change. 
T have been thus explicit about a “small mat- 
tor,” hoping to awaken an enthusiasm In theln- 
cxpi rlenced for this kind of Indoor decoration, 
that will be a delight to the eyes when the snow 
tltes out of doors. But there Is no lime to lose: 
go for your ferns, vines, and leaves, at the furth¬ 
est, no later than to-morrow. 
Bryn Mawr, near Philadelphia. 
— - 
FARMER’S DAUGHTERS. 
I was talking to a farmer’s daughter the other 
day, and we naturally, it seemed, dropped Into 
complainings, and each revealed the fact that, she 
was discontented. I asked her what she Intended 
to do for a llvtug, and she answered“ o, l don’t 
know; I want to get away and make money 
Somehow, if I could go to school a little moro 1 
could teach; but they can’t spare me.” 
I know that all her life had been one round of 
cooking, and milking, and churning; of washing, 
and scrubbing, aud Ironing. I know that her 
father was a wealthy farmer, a Granger, and a 
leading church member, lie has a good farm and 
a cozy barn—such a cozy barn I—and money In 
bank. And when l looked at the ugly old farm¬ 
house, with Its black doors and small windows, 
Its calves, and pigs, and chickens running In un¬ 
disturbed tranquillity over the yard, 1 did not 
wonder that she found It unattractive, and that 
she wanted to “get away.” Tho liner sensibili¬ 
ties of her woman nature were awakening, and 
they called for something better. 
I, for one, do not blame the farmers’ daughters 
for being dissatisfied. I know how much they 
have to make them so. When will these fathers 
learn that tho ** life Is more than meat, and tho 
body than raiment ?’’ When will they cease con¬ 
sidering It a waste of time to send their children 
to school, or a waste of money to pay for booksor 
magazines? Why will they spend their money 
giving tho heathen a Chance to bo lost, when 
their daughter* are absolutely suffering for some¬ 
thing to read? They toll and sweat, wasting the 
soul’s best earnings In providing for the poor 
trail body that, were It not that It. is the tompte 
of the soul, would be worth no more to us than a 
piece of wood or a stone. They reverse tho posi¬ 
tions and make the nghu ul master servant. Their 
time Is wholly occupied In providing for the tem¬ 
poral wants. 
Holland tells us that farmers arc afraid to bo 
educated, or refined, or to cultivate tho beauties 
or nature, lest they bo thought “stuck up.” Ho 
says that their liner nature, being neglected, be¬ 
comes sluggish and dormant. When they goto 
sleep they merely “go to roost;” when they cat, 
they “tuck away grub;” that they "surprise 
thdr backs with clean shirts,” and when they 
marry they “ hitch on.” lu all this wo recognize 
more Of truth than poetry. Perhaps it Is true t,ho 
world Is what we make It; but the sad part of 
tills truth Is, that some of us cannot make it what 
it ought to be, or what wo wish it t.o be. If tho 
natures that are given us with the existence that 
is thrust upon usaretlugglsh and stolid, we must 
suffer the consequences throughout time and 
eternity. 
No matter how much wc may do to eradicate 
the baser part, we can never attain the higher 
standard we might have reached if loving and 
considerate parents had helped to prepare the 
way for us. We hear a great deal said about the 
dlgully und nobility or labor; we see tho truth of 
this in the results of tho lives of such men as 
Hugh Miller, Agassiz, and our old-time patriots. 
But labor having no good end In view; labor that 
Is merely muscular expansion and contraction 
for the sake 01 making and keeping money. Is 
only a method of soul-murder. We need never bo 
afraid of labor, provided we work In the right 
spirit. Anna Dickinson used to clean street-cross¬ 
ings to earn money to pay for books.— Nihil, in 
Indiana Farmer. 
- * » ♦-- 
CORRECTION, 
In my article on “ Weak Backs,” in Rural of 
29th ult., I was made to recommend the use of 
Iodine three times a day; “ week” should be sub¬ 
stituted for “ day.” f. r. 
-- 
ITEMS. 
Mrs. Sarah J. Hale, editor of Godey’s Lady’s 
Book, is said to be the oldest editor in America. 
She has been lu the harness for forty-nine years, 
.she is now 82 years of age, and hard at work. 
A woman, Margaret Draper, of Boston, con¬ 
ducted the first, newspaper in America (so says 
Boston authority.) Thu Declaration of Independ¬ 
ence wua printed by Mary Goddard. 
