370 
JUNE 8 
ILeahitig for % gouirg. 
TWO LITTLE ROGUES. 
Hays Hammy to Dick, 
“ Come, hurry : come, quick! 
And we’ll do, and we’ll do, and we’ll do ! 
Our mamma 'b away; 
She’s gone for to stay; 
And we’ll make a great hullabaloo ! 
Ri too, ri loo, loo, loo! 
We’ll make a great hullabaloo !” 
Says Dicky to Sam, 
** All weddy 1 am 
To do, and to do, and to do. 
Rut how Uoeth It go f 
I so little know j 
Tlmy, what be a hullabawoo ? 
Ri ton, r) loo, woo, woowoo ! 
Thay, what he a hullabawoo ?” 
“ Oh ! slammlngs aud bangings, 
And whinglngM and whanging*, 
And very bad mischief we'll do; 
We’ll oluttcr aud shotit. 
And ]>ull things about; 
And that’s what's a hullabaloo ! 
Ri too, ri loo, loo, loo, loo ! 
Anti that’s what’s a hullabaloo ! 
“ Slide down the front stairs, 
Tip over the chairs; 
Now into the punlry break through : 
We ll take down some tinware, 
And other things in there— 
Alt aboard for n hullabaloo ! 
Ri too, ri loo, If o, loo. loo! 
A U a boanl lor a hullabaloo! 
“ Now roll up the table. 
Far up as you’re. able. 
Chairs, sola, big casy-ehair too ; 
Put the poker and vases 
in funny odd places : 
How’s this for a hullabaloo 1 
Jti too, rl loo, loo, loo, loo ! 
How’s this for a hullabaloo t 
•’ Let the dislu-s aud pans 
Re the womau»!aml mans; 
Everybody keep »tiU in their pew ! 
Mummy's gown I’ll get next, 
And preach you a text. 
Dicky, hush with your hullabaloo ! 
Ri too, ri loo, loo, loo, loo ! 
Dicky, hush with your hullabaloo !” 
As the preacher Id gown 
Climbed up aud looked down 
His queer congregation to view. 
Said Dicky to Sammy, 
“ Ob, (Ure comes our mammy! 
So’ll throld fur dis hullabawoo, 
Ri too, ri loo, woo, woo, woo 1 
Se’ll thcold for dis hullabawoo ! 
“ O mammy ! O mammy !” 
Cried Dicky and Hammy, 
“ We’ll never again certain true.” 
Rut with firm step she trod. 
And looked hard at the rod; 
Oh, then came a hullabaloo ! 
Roohon, boohoo, woo, woo, woo !” 
Oh, then came- a hullabaloo 1 
[ Mrs . J, M . Viat , in “ Jimmyfohns ," etc . 
--- 
“POCKET MONEY FOR THE YOUNG 
PEOPLE.”—No. 5. 
ANNIE L. JACK. 
Strawberries—Currants. 
Thkke is no crop grown that has the same 
fascination to an entUuslaat as the culture of 
fruit.; and 1 think strawberries are the most 
charming and romantic of fruits. There are the 
color, the aroma, the luscious richness. It Is the 
iir*t lair fruit the summer gives; and no doubt 
boys and girls think it the fruit, they would choose 
In their efforts towards a Utile pocket-money. 
Well, If so determined, got the "Wilson’’ to 
soil, for, I am sorry to say, with all Its acidity It. 
Is (he only proiltable berry lor market purposes. 
The plants are sold here at one dollar per hundred, 
and do well In ground where potatoes or oorn 
have been grown the previous season. Any 
nurseryman, In the fall will sell plants cheap, 
and after early potatoes are sold off, the land can 
be prepared In rows as If for corn—the plants set 
a foot apart and kept clean. A covering of leaves, 
swamp hay, or branches, Is necessary to protect 
them when the climate Is such that there is 
danger of frost. Many people cover with straw, 
but any ihin<j that Cloys not contain weal seeds 
la much better. The mulch is simply drawn 
aside In spring, and left between the rows to 
keep the fruit clean, retain moisture, and pre¬ 
vent weeds. 
or t he profits I cannot say, as the price Is so 
variable In different localities; and the neatness 
of sorting, and size aud freshness, make quite a 
difference. Tho returns are quick, as the second 
year rrom planting the berries are extra line, if 
not so plentiful ns alterwards. Ilut when you 
plant, remember, that In fruiting season the 
plants will require constant attention. You must 
pick, pick, through (he heat of the July days, no 
matter what may lure you away. A day’s delay, 
and your harries will lose their fresh look, and as 
they cannot ho picked In early rooming—tor the 
dew—It Is often a tiresome Job m sun and heat. 
Then cases and boxes cost something; and a 
consignment, trow some laud of plenty may Hood 
the market and bring down prices. 
Rut If you have customers who wish good, fresh 
berries, and know them when they see them, I 
should say “drew strawberries.*’ They arc a de¬ 
lightful attraction to visitors and birds, aud sweet 
and fragrant, to taste and smell, always salable 
and eatable, and 1 remember one season when 
Borne boys and girls ! know, picked ninety dol¬ 
lars’worth from not quite half an acre of land. 
After the berries arc off, the cultivation must 
be thorough, runners cut, plants kept clean all 
through tho summer; and It Is wise to set out a 
new bed, to be coming Into bearing before the 
old one Is exhausted. 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
There Is another fruit crop that repays all the 
trouble It requires, and any boys and girls who 
can get cuttings of currants, white, red or black, I 
should ad vise to set thorn out In straight rowa.mkfe 
enough to be cultivated by horse Dower. There 
are plenty of customers to be found ror these fruits, 
and people prefer to get them fresh picked from 
the garden to going to market for them. 
All the suds artd Blops from the kitchen are use¬ 
ful to make them grow, and IT the worm uppears, 
hand-pick the leaves that are Infested and water 
the bushes with white hellebore dissolved In soap¬ 
suds. Jt is surprising how soon a young currant 
bush will bear a gallon of berries; and they are 
generally large if well fed, while prices per gal¬ 
lon, lu my experience, range from 40c. upwards, 
for Tine, fresh fruit. They are easily handled, 
clean to pick, do not spoil If left a day on the 
bushes, and repay well extra care and culture. 
--- 
THE ART OF DECEPTION. 
One of the most singular Inconsistencies to 
be observed In every-day life Is found In the 
different m anner In which tho habit of decep¬ 
tion Is regarded according to the age and position 
of those who practise It. Children, as soon as 
they become capable of distinguishing right and 
wrong, ore taught to look upon deceit as one of 
the worst sins that can be committed. Roys at 
school arc not only taught tho beauty of truth by 
their masters, but, In a certain rough fashion, 
reverence It among themselves. A boy, ror In¬ 
stance, who parades ostentatiously to his mas¬ 
ter an assumed steadiness of principle and sub- 
mlsslvencss of demeanor Is very soon branded 
with the odious title of sneak. On tins other 
hand, occasions arise In schoolboy life when by 
sticking ui a deliberate falsehood, a boy may 
gain tor himself the reputation of u hero among 
hlsfellowB. This, Uowever, is a detail of the 
curious system of schoolboy morality, the un¬ 
written laws or which might afford an Interest¬ 
ing matter for study. 
Girls, It would seem, are by nature more in¬ 
clined to UbtruLhfulness than boys ; hut this In¬ 
clination Is really very often tho result ot moral 
cowardice, a defect which It may be said Is as 
common to boys aud men as to girls and women. 
But In the one case there are deterrent Influences, 
absent In the other, which orten lead to the 
attempt at overcoming, or at any rate conceal¬ 
ing, this fault. A boy who has Invented a story 
to save himself from a Rcrape, and Is found out, 
Is generally made to feel In some tangible way 
that ho has been guilty or a gross blunder, if not 
of a crime. He becomes conscious that Ills con¬ 
duct has gained him nothing but a punishment 
and tho scorn ot the community. With girls the 
matter Is somewhat different; some form of 
punishment may be Inflicted, but the sense of 
having done a shameful thing Is less frequently 
and less strongly Inculcated. A girl who has 
been detected In a falsehood may be teased on the 
subject by her companions, but she will not be 
shunned and despised. Thus she Is very UMj 
to learn early to life tho great maxim that lC^ls 
not crime but detection that one ought to avoid- 
She Likes to Work In a Carden. 
Beak uncle true.— I want to tell you how 
dearly I Uke to work In a garden. I have raked 
all the leaves and picked up all the stray sticks 
and 1 am watching the tlowera every day. Why 
can’t we Rural Cousins gather flower seeds to 
exchange, or garden seedB. I help make the 
vegetable garden, l ror one can save lots of 
seeds. 
I am going to have a swing and a croquet 
ground, so l have a pleasant time with rny com- 
jiany, and do not disturb the grown people. Home 
one give us directions for rustic summer-house 
of ]>oles, and oblige niaoaha mollie. 
ENIGMA. 
In the middle of day I always appear, 
Yet am ever In darkness, in sadness, and fear. 
1 am In anguish und pain, yet always In health; 
In tho mldBt., too, of happiness, pleasure and 
wealth. 
I was ronned since tho flood, yet am part of tho 
ark, 
And seen In a cradle, a lamp, and a spark; 
Though never out of England, I’m always In 
France, 
Htay In Paris and Amiens, Bordeaux and Nantes. 
I’m found la the foam and tho waves of the 
ocean, 
I n steamboat and cars, yet am never in motion. 
I’m always to land, yet ne’er out or water, 
And without m« you can’t name a son or a 
daughter. 
la short, I'm lu all things; there’s no lake, or 
sea, 
or Island, or cape, but contains little me. 
Answer In two weeks. R. A. Dukatk. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of s» letters: 
My 1 2,510, 61 , 61, li, s, H, 0, 84,18, 8 a sail of a ship. 
My 41, l, 42, 6, 30, 80, 67, ST, 43, 8k, 33, la a circular 
edifice used ;or public amusements. 
My 7, 27, 72, 31, 13, 30, 2 , 4, 39, 34, 16 unhealthy. 
My 04, 73, 74, 10, oi, 44,7», 21, 33, 38 real merit. 
My 25, 65, 83, 28, 22, 47, 60, 48 an act of charity. 
My 49, 17, 07, ic, 52 an umpire. 
My 77, 68, go, 5-1, 69, 70 untwisted end Of a rope. 
My 80, 78, 71, 66 a point of compass. 
My 68, C5, 70, 75 excellent. 
My 82, 10, 68 to decline. 
My 62, 03 a French conjunction. 
My whole Is good advice to young men. 
tar Answer In two weeks. Little one, 
TRIPLE ACROSTIC. 
1. Reckoned. 2 . To mix with oxygen. 3. Slan¬ 
der. 4. Raw metal. 6. Uncooked. 6. A man’s 
name. 7. A general name for a negro and a con¬ 
sonant. 8. To weigh down. Prlmals, centrals 
and finals form three States. 
tar Answer In two weeks. Balto. 
PUZZLER ANSWERS. -May 25. 
Hidden Streams of Wateh.— l River: 2, Lake; 
3, Bayou; 4, Lagoon; 5, Bay; C, Sea; 7. Ocean; 8, 
Creek ; V. Brook ; 10, Rill: 11, Rivulet; 12, Sound ; 13. 
Strait; li. Channel; 16, Frith; 10, Archipelago; 17, 
Gulf; 18, Pool; 19, pond ; 20, Canal: 21, Estuary ; 22, 
Tarn ; 23, ytreumlet; 24, Mill-race ; 25, Main. 
Cross- wonn Enigma.—U ncle True. 
Double ACROSTIC. — Primula, Guy Mannering ; 
final*. Old Mortality. 
Diamond puzzle,— 
v 
MAY 
MARIA 
FRAILTY 
VARIOLOID 
NEOLOGY 
CROCK 
9 I N 
D 
Triple Acrostic.—P rlmals, Haddock; centrals. 
Gudgeon; finals. Lamprey. 
Word-square Enigma.— 
perm 
E O O Y 
ROOT 
MYTH 
Pyramid Puzzle.— 
T 
SAM 
SILLY 
BABBLER 
AUTHORESS 
ATTENTIVELY 
jiabtiaft} pairing, 
“COME UNTO ME.” 
ELEANOR KIRK. 
A sweeter song than e’er wa* Bung 
By poet, priest or *age*: 
A song which thro’ all Heaven has rung 
And down thro’ all the ages. 
A precious (drain of ewuct accord, 
A note of cheer from Christ, our Lord; 
List ! a* it vibrate* full and froo, 
O grieving heart, “ Couie unto Me.’’ 
O wist* provision, sweet command, 
Vouchsafed the weak and weary , 
A friend to find on cither hand, 
A light for prospect dreary. 
A friend who I. iiowh our hitter need, 
Of each endeavor taklDg heed ; 
Who calls to every soul ot>prc*t, 
“ Gome unto Mo ; 1’JI give you rust.” 
“ Como unto Me.” The way’a uot long. 
Hi* bauds are stretched to meet thee; 
Now still thy throbbing, lint the song 
Which everywhere shall greet these. 
Here at blB feet, your bnrdon lay. 
Why 'math It bend another duy. 
Since One so loving calls to thee, 
“ Oh ! heavy laden, come to Me f" 
A Bwcetar *ong than e’er was snug 
By poet, priest or sage*; 
A song which thro' oil heaven haa rung 
And down thro' all the age*. 
How can wo turn from such a strain. 
Or longer wait to ease our pain 7 
Oh I draw ub closer, Lord, that wo 
51 ay find our sweetest rest iu Thee. 
[ CuiiyrtQutionulist. 
-- 
PRAYER. 
” He that cometh to God.’’— Gen. xi. 0. 
There would be less of formality In prayer, and 
far more of strength and enjoyment to It, if men 
did but grasp the Idea of what prayer Is. But 
simple as the Idea Is, It requires an effort, of mind 
to master It; aud while wo are willing enough to 
pay mechanically our dally tribute or homage at 
the Throne of Grace, natural alothfulness always 
recalcitrates against an effort of mind. Gradual 
ascent is as necessary to the mind, In order tu 
Its reaching a great Idea, as It Is to the body, to 
order to Its reaching a great hlght. Wo cannot 
ascend to a pinnacle or a cathedral, which towers 
aloft In air, without either steps or an Inclined 
plane. Now the law of man’s bodily progress is 
also the law of ills mental progress. Both must 
be gradual. No grand Idea can be realized except 
by successive steps and stages, which the mind 
must uso as landing-places lu Its ascent.. But 
what H tho mind, after all its toll, should provo 
unable fully to master the Idea, as must be the 
case where the Idea to bo mastered la connected 
with God and things divine? li does not at all 
follow that therefore our labor Is lost. Wo have, 
at all events, risen to a higher level, where our 
view is more transparent, more elevating, more 
sublime, and whore the play of the thoughts Is 
Invigorating to the Inner man. And now let u» 
apply these reflections to tho subject in hand. 
Prayer is nothing more or less than a 4 ‘ coming 
to God.” Now the bare conception of this thing, 
"coming to God," Is sublime and ennobling to the 
highest degree. But wo are familiar with tho 
Idea, aud our very familiarity with It—the cur¬ 
rency of It among religious persons and in relig¬ 
ious bookB—has worn off the sharp edges of It, 
until It has ceased to have any dell nit,e impress. 
Let ua seek and pray that the idea may revive 
with Bomu power to our minds. Aud this wo will 
do by a series of hypotheses, which shall bo as 
landing-places for tho mind In Its ascent. 
1. Let us suppose as the first step that we en¬ 
joyed tho privilege of opening our minds to, and 
consulting to our every difficulty and trial, the 
very wisest, and best, and most powerful man 
upon earth. Suppose that such a person resided 
in our Immediate neighborhood, so as to be at all 
times easily accessible to us. suppose that h is 
doors stood open day and night, and that he had 
left Instructions with his servant never to deny 
him to us. Suppose that, from his repeated Invi¬ 
tations, coupled with the well-known sincerity or 
his charaoter, we were perfectly assured that ho 
would give hts whole mind to any case which we 
might lay before him, and consult for us to the 
best of his ability, and with the keenest, Interest In 
our welfare. Can there be any doubt that the doors 
or this wisest, aud best, and most powerful of all 
men would be besieged with applications for ad¬ 
mission to hla presence, and that even where 
persons In distress were not Immediately extri¬ 
cated by his advice, It would bo a great relief to 
their minds to hoar him say, ” This la an Intricate 
ca 80 , and will require a great, deal of manage¬ 
ment ; but be assured I will bear It In mind, and 
take such measures In It as are most for your 
welfare?” 
2. But the judgment of even the wisest and best 
men, while in the body, Is liable to bo disturbed 
by many Influences, which doath will set aside. 
Mixed up Inevitably with earthly Interests, and 
looking at things more or less through the medi¬ 
um of public opinion, they are not. now as Impar¬ 
tial Judges or truth and right as they will be, 
when separated altogether from the world. Let 
uh Imagine then this great separation to have 
taken place,—the just, man to have been “ made 
perfect," and to bo now lying In Abraham's 
bosom, his mind stocked not only with the expe¬ 
riences or life, but with the thousand additional 
lessons which death will convey. Imagine his 
spirit to bo accessible after death to those to 
whom he felt, while living, the strongest interest. 
Lotus suppose, to mako the Image more definite 
still, that he is a father, who has always had 
during life, a word of counsel and sympathy, and 
a hand of succor for his children; and t hat it. has 
so come to pass that death has not cut them ofl 
from this resort. Doubtless, they would avail 
themselves of the privilege with great eagerness; 
the difference between tho consultations with 
the living and the departed parent being chiefly 
this, that a certain awe would rest, upon their 
minds in the latter case, from the reflection that 
they had te do with the inhabitant of another 
world, and that the advice given would be doubly 
valued, coming (as, on the hypothesis, It does) 
from a sphere where all errors or judgment are 
thought to he corrected. 
3. Aud now for another step In our ascent. The 
Scriptures speak largely of angels, a class of 
beings whose faculties transcend ours In our 
present state; and certain words of our Blessed 
Lord are upon record, which, though they cannot 
he said to prove, yet, certainly, favor t.hn popular 
Idea of the Jews, that to each person Is assigned 
a guardian-angel. Assuming, then, for the sake 
of argument, that such guardian-angels exist., let 
us suppose that each of them feels a special lov¬ 
ing Interest lu the particular soul under his 
guardianship, trembles for 11 us in the mad fren¬ 
zy of transgression It hangs upon tho brink of 
eternal ruin, aud rejoices for it, and with It, as It 
Is plucked away from that brink by tho arm of 
the good .Shepherd, and brought back to the fold 
from which it had strayed. Suppose, again, to 
this case that we had each of us some power of 
access to this guardian-angel, that we could sum¬ 
mon him to our aid, day our difficulties before 
him, unburden our inlmls to him, with the assur¬ 
ance ot receiving from him both sympaihyand 
succor. Can It be supposed that we should uot 
avail ourselves of such a privilege, as opportunity 
offered? that we should never cull him to our 
councils, or suhinit to him our cares7 
4 . But we have now climbed by gradual stages 
to the summit of tho mountain, and are left to 
contemplate a privilege, which not only might 
be, but which Is our own, and yet of which (part¬ 
ly from Its very cheapness amt commonness) we 
either do not avail ourselves at all, or avail our¬ 
selves to a formal and mechanical manner. " He 
that oomotli to God.” Inasmuch as God la the 
InUnlto One, we can never by auy reach or the 
mind grasp entirely the Idea or coming to Him; 
but have we not desired some help, some clear¬ 
ness of view, some apprehension of the magnifi¬ 
cence of prayer, from the train or thought which 
wo have been pursuing? Created power, wisdom, 
love, all have their limits, beyond which they 
cannot help, counsel, or sympathize: our difficul¬ 
ties, our perplexltles, our sins, might easily out¬ 
run them; and access to them mlgnt not be 
nearly of so much value as wo are apt to Imagine. 
But, " he that comoth to God "—what shall I say 
of this privilege ? The tameness of human lan¬ 
guage Is disappointing when wo attempt to de¬ 
scribe It, Throw Into one groat sum total all that 
you have ever experienced, or can noncolve, or 
wisdom and pow r cr, l he moat far-sighted discern¬ 
ments of results, with tho most absolute control 
over them,—the keenest Id tuition into character, 
with every conceivable influence for molding It,— 
aud then Invest Him In your conceptions with an 
Intensity of lovo, which la not discouraged by the 
deepest moral degradation to its objects, and 
which clings te the person of the sinner with un> 
chilled devotion oven while It condemns his sin 
with no abhorrence no less than inUnite,—imagine 
such a Being, and Imagine Him accessible to man, 
aud you imagine one, te whom In their hour of 
need all tho world, unless Indeed the spell of some 
deadly fascination wore laid upon them, would ho 
resorting continually for guidance, help, and 
comrort. But tills Is no Imagination. It la a 
reality. God la such a Uclug as we have labored 
to describe. He not only permits, but Invites; 
not only Invites, but. commands, tho approach to 
Him of every comer. And If there he no promise 
that every prayer shall be hoard according to the 
exact tenor of Its prosolpilon, yet assuredly there 
is a promise to all who ask,—most simple,—most 
express,—most universal,—or luut nourishment 
of grace ror tho human spirit, which Is the alone 
support of spiritual life: •* lr yo then, being evil, 
know how to give good gifts unto your children, 
how much more shall your Father wmch is In 
Heaven give the Holy Spirit to them that ask 
Him?” k. m. o. 
