“You cannot disguise It, Alan. Why should 
you ? I have thought It some days myself, and 
always with the most earnest thankfulness that 
I had you with me to help me through it, and to 
breaJi: the news to my poor Cora now, and, If you 
will, to be a friend to her when I am gone.” 
Sir Alan's lip quivered a utile, and it was with 
some .difficulty that he spoke again In his light 
tones. 
“ I don’t know what you have taken Into your 
head, Harold," he said, “hut I think you are 
getting light-headed. I only know this, that if 
I had an only sister whom I cared two straws 
about, I would not do her the Injustice of keeping 
an illness from her. I tell you, Hal, that If I were 
111 , and situated as you are, the very first thing I 
should do would be to send to my mother, and she 
Is a delicate old lady; and your sister Is not 
either the one or the other.” 
“Shall I Bend for Marianna?” said Harold, 
smiling falutly, “ will that satisfy you ?” 
“Send for her by all-moans, old fellow, but 
don’t behave so cruelly to your sister.” 
“You are strangely persistent, Alan,” mur¬ 
mured Harold, smiling faintly; and theu he 
closed his eyes, and sir Alan desisted, feeling 
that he had failed Ignomlnlously In carrying out 
tne physician’s wishes. 
The hours passed by slowly. Harold lay silent, 
and apparently asleep, while sir Alan kept his 
motionless station and guard by the bedside, 
rising sometimes to moisten the parched lips, or 
to make the sick man take some light nourish¬ 
ment. 
Twice he was disturbed by visitors. First 
came the old Italian maestro with whom they 
were studying, very sorrowful at the Illness of 
his most promising pupil, and a little annoyed 
with Sir Alan Vincent for allowing his friendship 
to surpass Ills ardor for art, and so. missing his 
own golden •-pportunltles and hours of study, for 
Sir Alan was a sculptor and a diligent worker. 
After him caine George Leeson to cheer the 
Invalid with studio chit-chat and art jargon, 
which amused and brightened Harold for the 
momenta Hut after he was gone the exhaustion 
and langor were still more apparent, and Sir 
Alan rather anxiously awaited l>r. Crosby’s next 
visit. 
The physician came and went, going away with 
a very anxious lace; and Sir Alan, returning to 
his mournful watch by the bedside, felt his heart 
sink and grow heavy as he noticed the sharpened 
profile and the shade on the handsome face. 
Towards evening Harold roused up. Tne last 
rays of sunset stole lu tUrough the open door, 
and lingered over the faded paintings on the 
walls, and a faint, pleasant air had sprung up, 
and play ed refreshingly over the sick man’s brow 
as he opened his eyes, and met Alan’s anxious 
glance wltn a faint smile. 
An Italian servant belonging to the house had 
come up with a pleasant Inquiry after the Signor 
Inglese, and a graceful present ot fruit—luscious 
purple grapes, with the bloom on them, and some 
peaches ripened into sweetness and richness 
under the hot southern sun. 
Harold had murmured hla thanks, and given 
the lad a pleasant smile, but it had not, prevented 
TonLt's dark, bright eyes from tilling with ready 
tears, and his lips from taking a mournful droop, 
which hid the gleaming wnlte teeth, as he no¬ 
ticed the chunge In the invalid. 
When he was gone Harold turned to sir Alan 
with a playful sadness. He had put his strong 
arm under the pillows, and was supporting nar- 
old in a sitting posture lu sucU a manner that he 
was not the least fatigued, and it rested him after 
such a long spell or a recumbent posiuon. 
“Hid you see the boy’s lace, Alan?” lie said, 
smiling lutntly. •• lie, like you, thinks me doom¬ 
ed, old fellow. Ho you really advise me to send 
lor the child ? I should so like to see her once 
more.” 
“ Harold, you pain me horribly,” said the baro¬ 
net, entroallugly. “Send ror your sister, by all 
means; by the time shucornesyou wiP bo con¬ 
valescent, and she will be here just as you will 
Tooth-ache, head-ache, back-ache 1 she may 
have all these, but what are they that they 
should keep her out of the suds? She will do up 
her jaw In a mustard poultice, bind towelscllpped 
in palu-khler around her head and put porous 
plasters on her back, but not even this once will 
she let Mrs, Flyabout or Airs. Cleansweep get 
ahead of her with her washing. Seriously, what 
advantage does Monday have over other days of 
the week beyond the one conveyed In the old 
couplet: 
“ They that wash on Monday 
Have all the week to dry,” 
for the doing ot the family wash ? It has numer¬ 
ous disadvantages, not the least of which Is the 
necessity one Is under, if the work Is to bo begun 
early In the morning, of “ picking up •’ the wash 
and making other preparations on the Sabbath. 
But, wisely or not, custom has uttered a decree 
and like the laws ofc i.ho Medea and Persians, It, 
altereth not, and so long as we are slaves to cus¬ 
tom we shall go on doing our weekly cleansing of 
linen on Monday with no regard to our own per¬ 
sonal convenience or desires. 
iOONDTJOTED BY MISS FAITH RIPLEY. 
poor, at meala, Her accommodations In the 
house are inferior to his. in all things she is a 
slave. If the wife is the daughter of a wealthy 
man, her lot Is not a hard oue. As the law re¬ 
gards marriage merely as a patnerslilp, she 
keeps her own property, and tho husband has to 
he on his good behavior to obtain a share of it. 
If she Is of poor origin, she can scarcely be said 
to have any rights. When a harem Ms on board 
a vessel, the husband keeps in the saloon, living 
well and sleeping in a comlortable cabin. The 
poor women are penned up as deuk-passeugers, 
living on wretched food which they take with 
them. 
“Only a few weeks ago,” says a traveller, «i 
was In a steamer carrying a harem, where there 
were probably twenty women wives and slaves, 
who were shivering under a canvas, which was 
quite insufficient to keep out the pelting rain. 
I know that It Isa thing almost unknown for a 
harem to have cabins taken for it. The hus¬ 
band takes care of himself—has perhaps, un¬ 
limited champagne—and leaves his women 
huddled together on deck to take care or tiiem- 
THE ANSWER, 
BY ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS, 
“ That wo together may sail, 
Just as we used to do. 
—Oitrlto n's Ballads. 
And what if I should be kind ? 
And what if yon should be true ? 
The old love could never go ou 
Just as it used to do. 
The wan, white hands of the waves, 
That smote us swift apart. 
Will never enclasp again, 
And draw ua heart to heart. 
Tbe cold, far feet of the tides 
That trod between us two. 
Can never retrace their steps, 
And fall where they used to do. 
Oh, well the ships must remember, 
That go down to the awful sea. 
No keel that chisels the current, 
Can cut where it used to be. 
Not a throb of the gloom or glory 
That stirs iu the sun or the rain. 
Will ever be that gloom or glory 
That dazzled or darkened—again. 
Not a wave thatfslretches its arms, 
And yearns to the breast of the shore, 
Is ever the wave that came trusting, 
And yearning, and loving, before. 
The hope that is high as the heavens, 
The Joy that is kroti as pain. 
The fuii.li that is free as the morning. 
Can die—but can live not again. 
And though I should step beside you, 
And hand should lean unto hand 
Wo should walk mutely—stifled— 
Ghosts in a breathless land. 
For I atn as dead as you are. 
And yon are as dead as I ; 
He who burns souls down to ashes, 
He only can answer why. 
And what if I should be kind f 
And though you should be true ? 
The old love could never, never 
Love on as it used to do. 
—Andover. 
JOSEPH, 
THE HEARTS OF THE LOWLY. 
One day, three or four weeks ago, a gamin, who 
seemed to have no friends in the world, was run 
over by a vehicle, on Madison Avenue, New York, 
and fatally injured. After he nad been In the 
hospital for a week, a boy about his owu size, and 
looking as friendless and forlorn, called to ask 
about, him and leave an orange. He seemed 
much embarrassed and would answer no ques¬ 
tions. After that he came dally, always bring¬ 
ing something, ir no more than an apple. Last 
week, when the nurse told him that Billy had no 
chance to get. well, the strange boy waited r. 
longer than usual, and finally asked if he 
To what has science brought us ? The theories 
that seem promulgated only to turn the world 
upside down have reached even to regulatlug the 
number of our children, as a wise fanner regu¬ 
lates his stock. It teaches us that our aim In life 
should be to live at ease, and not spend our lives 
In the nursery. Such doctrine is very discour¬ 
aging to many farmers’ wives whoso hands are 
full, and who have comforted themselves that 
“cradle tending” was one ot woman’s highest, 
noblest duties. Must large families necessarily 
ho “dirty, ill-favored or Ignorant?” Is It not 
rather the result of surroundings ? and If differ¬ 
ently sttiialed tho "brood” might become better 
citizens than the “ solitary American child,” 
brought up to selfishness by Its very isolation. 
Queen Victoria had nine children when her hus- 
baud died In the pride of manhood, and I read in 
a late Rural that Murat h alstead was the father 
of eleven children, yet with a noble and cultivated 
wife; and Mr. Evakts, too, Is t,ne lather ot about 
the same number, If newspaper reports are true. 
It Is, to say the least, deplorable that women 
sneer at each other in this respect, or pity their 
sister women Who are mothers of large families. 
Such feelings expressed ore apt to prove as clouds 
In a weak woman’s sunlight,. Has she not, through 
all her hours of trial, been sustained by the 
thought that each dear, helpless being sent to her 
weary arms, was a girt from tho God In whom she 
trusted ? Aud now, lo he told He has no part or 
around 
_j could 
go in. He lied been Invited to many times before, 
but had always refused. Billy, pale and weak 
and emaciated, opened his eyes In wonder at the 
sight of the boy, and before he realized who It 
was the stranger bent close to his face and 
sobbed: 
" Billy, can ye forgtve a feller 7 Wa was alius 
fighting, and I was alius too much for ye ; but I’m 
sorry t Fore ye die won’t ye tell me ye haven’t 
any grudge agin me ?” 
The young lad, then almost In tho shadow of 
death, reached up his thin, white arms, clasped 
them around the other’s neck, aDd replied : 
“ Hon’t cry, Rob. Don’t feel bad. I was ugly 
and mean, and 1 was heaving a stone at ye when 
the wagon hit me. if yell forgive me, Ill for¬ 
give you, and I'll pray for both of us.” 
Bob was half an hour late the morning Billy 
died. When the nurse took him to the shrouded 
corpse, he kissed the pale face tenderly, and 
gasped: 
" D-dtd he say anything about—about me ?” 
" He spoke of you just before he died. Asked 
If you were here,” replied the nui-se. 
“ And may 1 go-go to the funeral ? :1 
“ You may.” 
And he did. He was the only mourner. His 
heart was the only one that ached. No tears were 
shed by others, and they left, him sitting by the 
new-made grave, with heart so big that he could 
not speak. 
If under the crust of vice and Ignorance there 
are such springs of pure feeling aud true nobility, 
who shall grow weary of doing good 1—indepen¬ 
dent. 
WASHING-DAY, 
MRS. A. K. STORY, 
Friday, as we aro sagely informed, Is hang¬ 
man’s day, an unlucky day, a day on which no 
new work must be begun, no Journey undertaken 
no plans for the future laid. For on Friday, of 
all days, 
“ The best laid plans of mice and men 
Gaug aft aglee.” 
Saturday Is peaceful, quiet, serene—the day of 
preparation for the Sabbath. Wednesday and 
Thursday are the bone aud sinew of the week, 
given to bearing burdens and bearing them si¬ 
lently and without complainings. Tuesday is like 
Friday, under a ban. But what has the unhappy 
Monday done, that its groaulugs must go up in 
clouds of steam to the very skies 1 It is ushered 
in by tbe seething of boilers, the shrieks ot wash¬ 
ing-machines, by the din of pounding barrels, by 
tho odor ot suds, the crying of babies, and the 
general discomfort ot everybody but the women 
who are at the head of a flairs, and who turn the 
crank, which is their emblem of authority, with 
ft vigor worthy of the day. 
Monday is washing-day. 
A wornau possessed of any spirit, would 
Him, u is oniy necessary to remember the womeu 
of the last, generations, who brought, up large 
tarut|li-i,>nd accomplished more work than any 
three women attempt to-day, to know that It Is 
the chllilloss and those who tamper with God's 
laws in thU respect, who die young, ot unexpintn- 
ed diseases, or live for years in a state ot invalid¬ 
ism. The one American child, for wham the pa¬ 
rents scrape and save—who Is made to believe 1 
the most important letter In the alphabet—Is not 
likely to grow up as self-helpful, kind or observant 
as the one among a crowd, who must practice 
self-denial, protect the weak, and do his share 01 
the work at air early age. 
Mrs. Potlphar “talks of,* scriptural authority ” 
and seems to forget that off the Bible through 
gives ns one of the choicest blessings bestowed 
upon man the gift of children. To “increase 
and uiulM ply” to become the “joyful mother of 
children,” and to "bring them up In the fear ot 
the Lord,"are sentences of frequent occurrence 
in the Bible. But science shuts the Bible on this 
subject. It to behind tho age! Ah! mothers, 
do not be discouraged by this needless sneer at 
“nursery" and '‘cradle-tending." Do you 
think women are happier In the Court House, on 
the rostrum, or Jostling with men In the gal¬ 
leries or lobby of congressional meetings? It is 
false to every Instinct or our sex to say, yes. 
Nor can fume so fickle in Its favors compensate 
for a loveless home or the happy faces and 
voices or children. Take courage. Think still 
that the God ot the past Is U 10 God of the pres¬ 
ent and that He watches over you and yours. 
The hymns yon sing when cradle-tending give 
more pure enjoyment than it the applause or a 
multitude greeted your efforts, for they would 
forget you when a fresher voice came before 
them, but your woras; your looks, your love, 
will live in die hearts ot your children when 
they can see you no more. It will require your 
The most effectual means of removing freck¬ 
les, is the use of tUose chemicals which dissolve 
the existing combination. The freckles are sit¬ 
uated In the middle or second membrane of the 
skin, and betore any other application It will be 
advisable to soften the suriace by the use of 
some mild balsam or paste. 
Paste for freckles—one ounce of bitter almonds, 
one ditto of barley flour; mix with sufficient quan¬ 
tity of honey to make the whole into a smooili 
paste, with which the face more particularly' 
where the freckles are visible, is to be anointed 
at ulght and tbe paste washed off in the morn¬ 
ing after a few days the skin win be prepared 
for a chemical remedy. 
To decompose the freckles by laying hold of 
the iron: the following mixture maybe applied- 
Take one drachm of muriatic add, halt a pint of 
rainwater, half a teaspoonful of lavender; mix 
well together and apply two or three times a 
day with a camel’s h ilt* brush. The acid seizes 
upon the Iron and the oxygen is disengaged. 
... . — sooner 
be caught lna hall-storm with her best bounetou 
than rail to do out her week’s washing on Monday. 
The very brutes about the house learn to know 
the day and tremble. 
The cat vacates her comer by the stove and 
curls berself up ou a beam in the wood-shod, 
whore, If she sleeps, it Is with one eye open. The 
dog plan's himself on the front stoop and howls 
plaintively. The children go off to school with 
molasses on their faces aud with unbuttoned shirt 
bunds. Paterfamilias fills his pipe on tho door¬ 
steps and smokes it on the wood-pile. Beds are 
left unmade, floors unswept, dishes unwashed. 
The baby has the tongs aud the tea-kettle to play 
with. He pinches his Augers, blacks bis face, and 
tumbles into a pall of water trying to climb on the 
table. 
l’andemoniuin Is let loose. It Is washing-day! 
At noon tho scene is changed. The clothes are 
ou tne line. The tubs are put out of sight. The 
slops have beeu cleared away. The “good 
man" has had his “pteked-up" dinner and 
smokes nis pipe by the kitchen fire with the baby 
tugging at Ids trousers’ legs, while the mistress 
or the day is stretched out on tbo lounge, com¬ 
pletely exhausted but, oh. so happy, for did she 
not get out her whole wash before so much as a 
single rag flattered from one of her neighbors’ 
lines ? 
She ought to hava attended to the churning 
this morning, she knows, and there was baking 
that needed doing. The cream will only be a 
little more sour and the churning larger, that Is 
all, and as to the baking, the children can eat 
mush and milk for their supper. It Is healthy 
and easy to get. sue should, by rights have 
mended Johnny's jacket. He tore It Saturday 
arternoon and she supposes she ought, to calf on a 
friend In whose household there was a death last 
night, but sho caunot let the washing go. 
Johnny can wear his Sunday Jacket and her 
friend must take tho will for the deed. What 
was Monday made for If not that she might wash 
“ Just Lieu tueSrxi”- * Did I love any other 
girl.?” repeated a prospective bridegroom. In 
answer to the tearful query of his In tended. 
4 Why, darling, ot course uot; liow could you 
ask such a question ? You are mv first mvonly 
love! This heart knew- no waking until tho 
sunshine of your lovo streamed In, and woke it 
to ecstasy!” And Mien he kissed her tmirtarlv- 
aml went home, and said 10 himself: •• 1 must 
hurry them things out ot the way right off, or 
there’ll be a.row;” and he collected a great 
pile of letters, written In ail kinds o( feminine 
minds, with lots ot faded flowers, and photo¬ 
graphs, and locks or hair, and bis of faded rib¬ 
bon, and other tilings; and, then the whole 
collection had been crammed Into tbe kitchen 
grate, he drew- a deep sigh, and said to himself: 
"There goes all that is left of fourteen undying 
loves—let'em flicker!” 
TURKISH WIVES, 
Having obtained a wife, it Is worth while to 
Inquire how a Turk treats her. She has not much 
to complain of generally from the personal ill- 
treatment of her husband. As a rule the Turk 
If a fair husband. The Turk In ordinary file Is 
not unkind or cruel. The wife’s misfortunes 
aviso trom her position. As husband aud wife 
see little ot each other, they aro not specially 
given to quarrelling. But she is a woman, 
possibly purchased outright In the slave-mar¬ 
ket—for It Is a pure Illusion to suppose that tho 
slave trade in Turkey has beeu abolished— and 
—Will some of your correspondents please tell 
me through the columns of too Rural, a remedy 
for the large black ants which tmested mv cup¬ 
boards last summer, and have already, this nice 
weather, sent out spies, Intending no doubt to 
follow in regiments soon. 
