THE RURAL HEW-YORKER 
not ditto. The^fault with her toilet was, that 
her lace, flue Jewelry and costly velvet had no af¬ 
finity with her gown. Bucli adjustments can 
only he fitly worn with a gown of silk, or one of 
kindred elegance. How many country women and 
girls aspire to a velvet coal-, and wear it with a 
woolen gown, never dreaming of the Incongruity 
produced? Or, how many In their afternoon 
dress-up of calico or serge, put on the gold watch 
and haln for the sake of ornament.. A watch i 
an haln la an article of use, and suitable to be 
wo as such, nut women In fashionable life 
d t wear a watch and chain (unless concealed 
f r view) when dressed for ball, reception, din- 
n° or evenchurch. And there is a*fitness In t his 
too. because those are, usually, occasions in which 
the participant Ls not supposed to he limited to 
tim ut dependent upon whim or circumstance, 
tly tby raiment as thy purse can buy,” is a 
nough rule to be guided by as to outlay In 
; but one equally valuable lu forming a 
TALES ON TIMELY TOPICS.-No. 1. 
Holiday Souvenirs. 
Pig. 9. 
BY KOBE GERANIUM. 
wardrobe is fitness In choice. If you cannot afford 
gowns of rich silk, you have no use for lace, fine 
jewelry, or costly wraps. Linen should take the 
place of lace, cloth that of velvet, and a plain 
brooch or necktie that, ol jewelry. 
I think the law or fitness also extends to artifi¬ 
cial flowers. Those cunning creations which com¬ 
ing from deft French hands, are sometimes almost 
as beautiful and wonderful as the originals rrom 
which they are modeled. But they cost a deal of 
money, and are rarely or never to be found In the 
shop of the village milliner. What the good vil¬ 
lage milliner says will bo “perfectly lovely on 
your hat,” is a coarse, cheap thing, as unlike the 
real flower Itself, to construction and color, as a 
“horridportrait,” ls unltko the sweetest face you 
ever saw. The effect desired ls a spot or bit of 
color; but.why not use Instead, a rosette or bow 
of ribbon ? There is no sham In that, and It. ls no 
libel on a flower, the meanest of which deserves 
respectful treatment. 
The Baroness BTODJCtt-OOCTTS— the richest wo¬ 
man to the world, 1 believe -waged war against 
the fashion of using stuffed hummlng-blrdB as 
ornaments on women’s hats, and happily made 
that kind of so-called decoration unpopular. But 
what a decoration! 1 Even now, one sometimes 
sees the somblanco of a bird—bead 
eyes, tall leathers, and aU—resting 
on a woman’s bonnet, as if the fe¬ 
male head were designed as a knob 
on which to display stuffed beasts 
or birds, if tho ostrich drops Ills 
plumage, and one chooses to pick up 
and wear the discarded feather- 
well and good; hut. to go further 
thau that, and wear the ostrich him¬ 
self, ls quite another thing. No or¬ 
nament can be properly such, or at 
least pleasing, that brings up ike 
Idea of death and suffering, as must, 
a stuffed bird, or the simulated head 
of a mink, or any other animal In 
furs. People of “ taste ” may Indeed 
wear such things, but the thing to 
Itself ls, nevertheless, revolting. I 
hold It to he one ol the most cruel ffi 
things to the economy of human ex¬ 
istence that we are obliged, or seem 
to be obliged, to rob animals of lire 1111 
to order to minister unto our real or 
fancied necessities; lor 1 opine that 
the life ol the meanest Animal may 
be as den.' to It as mine is to me. So Pm. 10. 
I see sciuvoly more fitness la nslng stuffed skins of 
any kind as ornomint, man in the use of polished 
or carved human bones as such. But as a conclud¬ 
ing mot, let me beg of the “girls,” young and old, 
to avoid cheapness in dress, as The crown of unfit¬ 
ness. By Uii. I mean, do not buy a cheap serge or 
delaine. When ou u ive i i.ly money enough for a 
good calico, choose the latter oy all means. Instead 
of cheap silk, buy a good merino or cashmere. In 
lieu of a cheap cashmere, get. good alpaca, and so 
on through the entire category or your wardrobe. 
By adhering firmly to this course, you will always 
have the appearance of honest respectability and 
avoid looking like a servant girl, gotten up In 
cheap finery. 
The mild, mental epidemic which annually fore¬ 
runs the happy Christmas time, la upon us. Be- rj 
Ughtful as are Its outgrowths, the affliction, to Its ^ 
first stages, ls very trying—to fact., almost ex¬ 
asperating. J 
If we could decide, JUBt here, what your offer- 
togs Bhould be and spare you everything but the j 
sweet, stolen bliss of preparation and antlclpa- / 
tion, you would extol our modest name for mouths j 
to come 1 But— 
one point let us note as a basis—don’t allow 
your gift to be beyond your means; that ls, more 
than you can conscientiously afford. As such It , 
Is not & gift but a sacrifice, and Christmas ls not j 
a celebration of sacrifices. To one who would > 
tako tote consideration the pecuniary value of 
your token offer none at all 1 It 15 the setj speak¬ 
ing out of tho tribute which should embalm It to ( 
the treasury of tUe recipient! Let It speak for 1 
you and of you—a fair representative of your an- < 
ture, a first representative of its kind. Better by i 
far choose a handkerchief of the daintiest and 
purest linen than ten times lt.s value In a Jewel of 
doubtful or Inferior worth. i 
If you are an adept to any special line, choose < 
therefrom. Select from your fruits or flocks; ' 
from your dairy or poultry-yard; from your con- . 
servatery or studio. If you are literary, present * 
your sweetest thoughts rounded lute song, if 
you embroider, trace the image of some flower 
which charms by Its beauty or bears rrom heart 
to heart, a friendly message. Further, let It 
always be provided that the tastes and require¬ 
ments of the recipient are to be held under first 
consideration. Your finest thorough-bred colt 
would bring but a negative delight to the friend 
who neither rides nor dilves; and a copy of choice 
music ls valueless to one who does not. know one 
note from lt.s neighbor. 
This penful of Ink we will devote to calling from 
its repose a charming gift for an Invalid, which 
wo not long since happened to find to an old 
Rural. (If those who have been subscribers for 
years pursue our own custom and preserve their 
papers to bound volumes, they can readily find 
the engraving.) it ls a footstool, neatly covered, 
with a double top, all nicely wadded and quilted. 
The upper covering reached on.y a trlflo more 
than half across the top, and Is cut somewhat 
wider (In order to lirt It up), after the fashion of a 
huge slipper, sufficiently capacious for both feet. 
Those who fancy making it should use wool in¬ 
stead of cotton for a wadding. We would add 
that if our model was not made with a ltd lop, 
thus converting it tote a sllpper-box and recepta¬ 
cle for other belongings, it could thus be vastly 
improved. 
To make acceptable gifts to the line of dress Ls 
a very delicate and not always successful under¬ 
taking. E’er you venture upon It, Inform yourself 
pretty thoroughly In regard to the feelings of the 
elect.. Even though your selection should har¬ 
monize delightfully with her preferences there Is 
yo t just, the shadow of a possibility that, she may 
entertain some little sensitive misgivings about 
accepting a present of such an equivocal utility. 
And she may always be forced to wear It with a 
painful minor, feeling of having been a subject 
of confidential benevolence 1 
“ What shall I obtain for a suitable gift to a 
gentleman?” ls a question frequently asked with 
some anxiety. If the responsive party kindly 
itemizes, tho bill will generally contain “ a dress¬ 
ing-gown, slippers, or a dozen handkerchiefs ” 
embroidered with initial. To this we will add a 
little work-case, all neatly fitted up tor emergen¬ 
cies of stitching and darning; a napkln-rlng, a 
drlnklng-cup, either of stiver, china or glass. 
This last ls the dritatest, flattery to masculine 
self-esteem and 1 b a particularly successful offer¬ 
ing. A wee mite of your own painting, a flower, 
wrought from a mother’s or sister’s hair; a tiny 
bouquet of roses,pansies or other favorites, to wax, 
If these trifles lie at your fingers’ ends—each ls 
worthy and valuable. 
Books and flowers are always to place and, 
wherever a present ls to order, are sure to be 
proper. All these you may safely overlook to 
your research for his pleasure and If none of them 
quite suit, and you prefer, and he requests It, give 
him your heart i But let us to all kind candor 
assure you that the presentation of this article 
requires more discretion and ls more dangerous 
to propriety thau any other! However, It one 
succeeds, there Is no other species of charity so 
fruiinfl of happy results. 
“ The children.” “ Bon-bons and toys?” 
Not always, by any means. In this generation 
—dare we assert It ?—tho very luxury of delights 
has, to some instances, fairly palled upon infantile 
taste. When candles are no longer sweet and 
dollies only doubtrully dear, through burdensome 
multiplication, have resort to something which 
hints of a progressive state. Give your little 
girl-sweetheart a bit of china, linen or silver that 
she may lay tenderly away as a Jewel nest-egg 
for her woman-days and housekeeping! Mark 
how her modest, demure gaze will rest upon It, as 
little breaths ripple up, half sighs, hair laughing 
and altogether gratitude! 
Give. Give to those you love; to the ones 
whom every person usually forgets; to the poor 
“whom ye have always!” And may the sweet, 
l deep gift, or Heavenly peace be yourB along the 
way! 
WHERE AND WHEN? 
BT EBEN E. BEDFORD. 
Where is the little spot of earth where I shall sleep 
Some coming peaceful day, 
With nfraas and clover growing thick and deep. 
Above my face, while tall white daisies keep. 
Their watch above the heart that loved them so, 
Truer than men are to the friend below. 
Is it upon the hillside, where the sky 
Seems nearest tq the earth f 
There I havejfancied that the dead ones lie 
And feel the summer cloud* go drifting by, 
And low sweet voices echo in their ear. 
How far from us they are!—to Heaven so near ! 
Or in the valley shall my grave be made. 
Far from the ways of men f 
Ou earth’s kind breast 1 shall not be afraid 
For close to her warm heart I’ve often laid 
My tired head, and she has sting to me. 
Such songs of rest that u one could sweeter be. 
And on the white stone standing at my head. 
What date Shall carven be ’ 
On® sweet, brief summer htnoe J Ob, blossoms dead. 
What do you dream of, in your earthly had ? 
Or shall the years bo many. *re 1 lie 
With grass between me and the tender sky T 
What does it matter ? I have nought to fear. 
It will bo God’s good time, 
With blossoms blowing, and the Kobtn* near. 
Or warm white snow above me, I shall hear 
The Infinite Voice, while dreaming ’noath the sod, 
And wake, some, happy morning, safe with God, 
KING ESAR’S SLAVE. 
Tale oi‘ Babylon. 
Huber, the blind man, who wrote on bees, de¬ 
rived his knowledge of their habits from the ob¬ 
servations of his wife. 
The wife of Lavoisier not only could perform 
his experiments, but even engraved the plates 
which Illustrated his “ Elements. ” 
[Concluded from page 36LJ 
The year passed, that was a century long, and , 
I had waited patiently, mindful of my oath; but | 
now I trembled with Ire, for a missive had reach¬ 
ed me from the East: 
“ The maiden was mute, she knew no tongues i 
of earth. 1 have taught her language. Let her 
abide with me another year, that I, who have i 
given her speech, may learn from her that starry 
lore, which leaveth her memory swiftly as the 
shadows fly the noonday sun. Vex not thyself i 
for this delay; think of the power and wisdom we 
shall gain for man.” 
Wisdom I What cared I for his foolish dreams? 
I would not wait another day. 
I declared war against the King of the East, 
and we fought battles In which no tongue could 
number the slain. But I Issued a decree sparing 
the women and children; and when victory was 
proclaimed with the sound of trumpet, and the 
noise of shouting, I sat, to my tent while the cap¬ 
tives were brought before me. 
Weeping they came—a long line of women with 
disheveled liaLr, and garments dusty and travel- 
soiled ; chained and wcary tlu-y trailed their limbs 
past my tent, turning streaming eyes upon me, 
and holding out Imploring hands to beg for mercy. 
The long, long fine went by, with passionate cries 
and walls of anguish, hut. she was not. among 
them. So 1 heeded not their tears, t heir sorrow, 
or their beauty. Lastly came the king’s daugh¬ 
ters with their garments of divers colors rent., and 
ashes on their heads, and they passed by to proud 
bitterness, for 1 had given them for slaves to my 
camel-driver, to be his hewers of wood and draw¬ 
ers of water. 
Thus the day of victory went down to darkness, 
and t.Uero was revelry to the. camp mingled with 
1 the cries of the captives and the groans of the 
dying. But, 1 was sad. .She was no noarer than 
when, a dreaming hoy, I saw her face among the 
stars. She was slain, or perchance the spoiler 
had seized her for a prey. Even as I thought 
thus, the curtain of my tent was IHted by the 
guard, and t here stood by him a man holding a 
weeping woman by the hand. 
*• Hidden to the Temple of Baal, O king, I found 
this woman, and mlndrul of thy commands, 1 
bring her hither, no eye having seen her but 
mine.” 
Carelessly 1 turned without a hope, and shining 
to the pale moonlight, white as a marble goddess, 
l met her face. 
“Rewavd him with i he reward of a prince,” I 
said to the guard, “ and let him go.” 
The curtain of my tent was dropped, and we 
were left alone. Greedily my eye drank to the 
pallid beauty of her face, the grief to her tear- 
streamtog eyes, t.he glory of her disheveled hair, 
and the scarlet of her trembling lips. Her man¬ 
tle was stripped from her shoulders, and I saw 
upon ber white arm the cruel mark of the sol¬ 
dier’s hand, as he had dragged her by force to my 
tent. Upon her small wrists hung heavy shackles, 
and with their weight her hands drooped power¬ 
less, and her UmbB shook as she knelt berore me, 
and laid her rorehoad to the dust. 
I raised her, and she trembled exceedingly, 
crossing her chained hands upon her bosorn, and 
standing pale and still before me as marble that 
breathes. Then 1 set aside her flowing hair— that 
I had seen among the stars—and 1 looked into 
Her eyes—those eyes that I had lure* down rrom 
spheres of light. She grew faint, beneath my 
look; her hands, uncrossed, fell with their chains 
drooping nearly to the ground; and her lips, 
blanching with a terror that was half Joy, mur¬ 
mured tenderly: 
“ Great king, thine eyes are as the eagle’B to 
! power. I have dreamed of thee these many days, 
i Let thine handmaid be the least among thy ser¬ 
vants,” 
“ Thou art my wife and my queen,” I answered. 
And taking the veil from her head, I pressed my 
lips to hers. 
Then I proclaimed throughout the camp that I 
had found my queen, and I made my bridal amid 
the rejoicings of my soldiers, and the cries of 
enemies and captives. As 1 apparelled my bride 
to royal robes and put the crown upon her head, 
I whispered: 
“ Ask what I shall give thee, and it shall be 
thine, even to hair my kingdom.” 
“Give me,” she answered, and her lips smiled, 
“ the head ol the old man who has kept me from 
thee for a year.” 
1 sent, swift messengers to the temple, where 
he had taken refuge, and returning they laid the 
gift at her feet. 
We Journeyed to the royal city to state, and 
seated on my throne, wlr.h my bride veiled on my 
right hand, all peoples and nations came before 
us to do ns homage. Then l made a great feast 
for many days to my princes and nobles, and I 
caused her to come berore them unveiled that, her 
beauty might, be seen. And they said she was 
fairer than the fairesl of the daughters of women, 
and wiser than the wisest of my counsellors. 
'Thus 1 had honor to their sight for rny choice. 
But, alas, she was cruel; and this flaw to her 
nature craved at my hand deeds that made tho 
world shudder. When slaves were tortured, when 
captives died, when the people perished, she 
loved me more. And what would 1 not do for her 
love? 
Among my slaves there was one who was my 
friend. He had been taken captive a child, and 
given to me for a playmate. He was ft barbarian, 
a man of great stature and of singular aspect, for 
his hair was yellow, and his eyes wore the color 
of a pale sky. Thlsman she bated, and aho asked 
his life of me many limes, but. 1 put her off with 
fair words. And to appease her I put Into her 
hand the lives or kiugs and princes, or tne lives 
of maidens saved from tho spoil. Of these she 
made sport for hersolf and the women of the 
palace by flinging them to the lions, or making 
them fight with beasts as ls the manner of some 
nations. Thus 1 saved my Mend for awhile. 
But one day she invited me to a banquet of 
wine, and wlieu my heart, was merry she knelt 
down at my feet, and lifting her sUver veil she 
leaned her cheek on my hand, and murmured low 
sweet words of love. 
1 gazed down upon her beautiful face, and my 
heart trembled with Joy. Ah, I loved her so 
dearly! I had lured her from the spheres to be 
mine; for me she hod left, glories of which my 
dull mind could not dream. Should I begrudge her 
aught to return? True, she had rorgotten the 
love of the stars; but to her mood at times I saw 
a sadness that 1 alone could understand. I re- 
cognlzdd a craving that no earthly thing could 
fill. 
of her life, before the morchauts fouud her on 
the edge of the wilderness, she was sUent. 
“What do I know?” she would say. “Ire- 
member nothing. My life began on the day I saw 
you. And yet wo had met before. Ay, where? 
Tell me, cruel man, when you first put your spell 
upon iny soul.” 
Thus we talked with kisses, I laughing at her 
fancies. But to secret 1 repented the death of the 
sage, to whom, doubtless, she had told much of 
I that starry lore, which earthly love had banished 
from her heart. 
Suddenly, as her warm cheek pressed my hand, 
I felt tears upon It. Tears! I had never seen 
her weep since the day 1 had placed a crown upon 
her head, and taken the chains frem her hands, 
and now her grief startled me. 
“My beloved, why dost thou weep? Are not 
all the riches of India thine, and from the borders 
of the wilderness, even to the land shadowed by 
the sun, are not the people thine? Thoushalt 
harrow them with harrows of Iron, If tby soul de¬ 
sires it, or make them pass beneath a yoke of 
steel.” 
“O king, live for ever!” Bhe answered; and 
she bowed her head to the ground till her shining 
hair touched my feet. “AU these things axe 
mine, and yet I am weary, because thou dost not 
love me.” 
Then I hasted to raise her to my arms, and I 
put my own crown upon her head and kissed 
her. 
I “i love thee better than my throne, my king¬ 
dom, and my people. See, have I not put all 
their lives In thy hand?” 
“What are the lives to me of a thousand 
princes, when thou keepest from me the life of 
one barbarian? A slave ls dearer to thine eyes 
than I am." 
And taking the crown .from her brow, where I 
had placed It, she laid It on the couch as a thing 
or naught, while she sat upon the ground and 
wept. Then she tore the Jewels from her hair 
and the bracelets from ber arms, and laid them 
at my feet. 
“Tako back thy gifts, gTeat king! Without 
thy love they are to me as nothing. And now 
slay me If tnou wilt, for what good shall my life 
do me, seeing my soul Is weary even unto 
death?" 
Alas, for my weakness! I gave her the life of 
the man who had been to me as a brother. Even 
J with her arms about my neck and her thanks to 
my ear I was sorry, and I quitted her heavy with 
grief. 1 had stood silent when her soft, silvery 
3 voice gave Its cruel orders: 
, “Seize AutLius tho barbarian, and carry him 
- chained to the lowest dungeon. Build to the 
night a scaffold beneath my windows, and to the 
i morning bring him forth that I may see him die. 
. And I will fling In* hoai i to the dogs of the city.” 
In the night, as I lay sleepless, I cast about in 
my thoughts how I 6hould save the man, and yet 
