THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
SEPT 46 
642 
her own devices in regard to her domestic 
management. So long as things went smooth¬ 
ly under her quiet, gentle ways and skillful 
housekeeping, be made no remonstrances 
when occasional help was called in, and never 
complained of the small extra expenses which 
she incurred for papers and books for her own 
use. It satisfied him that the dairy, under her 
management, was much more profitable than 
it ever had been, and he now and then added 
another cow to the stock until the capacity of 
the farm was filled, and the dairy became a 
larger source of revenue than all the grain 
crops he had ever raised. It pleased him that 
his farm work was lightened, and that in¬ 
stead of the laborious work of raising grain 
he could sit on the fence and see his cows graze 
on the broad pasture. 
But his nature was not changed. The same 
old idea of woman’s dependence on the man’s 
will still remained, and when it came to pass 
that bis wishes and his daughter’s inclination 
clashed and interfered, the old spirit within 
him was aroused. He would be obeyed. A 
child had no right to a will of her own. This 
was a matter of religion with him. Disobe¬ 
dience to parents was impiety and used to 
be thought worthy of death. Disobe¬ 
dient children used once to be stoned to death, 
he reasoned within himself, and in thinking 
in this fashion he wholly lost sight of the true 
nature of the ease, and concentrated his 
thoughts upon the depravity evinced by a 
child who should set her own wishes above a 
father’s commands. No measures could be 
too extreme for sucb wickedness, be thought. 
And the man in his utter selfishness, cultiva¬ 
ting his own waywardness and perversity, 
ignorantly and superstitiously, came to be¬ 
lieve that he was iu performance of a duty to 
bend his daughter's will to his will, and there 
was no peace until by force of his will upon 
the somewhat plastic disposition of his daugh¬ 
ter, he had controlled and bent her mind into 
the direction of his own. At first Patience 
rebelled, and this made her father furious and 
desperate. But threats of the greatest sever¬ 
ity failed to move her, and it was only when 
she became convinced that her lover was lost 
to her that she in her despair gave up the 
struggle, and surrendered herself to what she 
came to consider as her fate. 
•‘What can I do; what can I do!” she 
mournfully said to herself. “Father has set 
his mind upon this thing and he has no pity 
and no regard. And I have no refuge; no 
way of escape. Life is intolerable in this way, 
and after all wbat does it matter. I don’t see 
how I can be more miserable. Barley is dead. 
He must be. He is lost to me and there is 
nothing left for me to care for, or hope for ; 
nothing: nothing. Oh, mother! mother! can 
you hear me; can you help me; can you com¬ 
fort me. Iam alone, without a friend. I had 
but ODe parent, and she is gone. Wbat it is 
to feel alone in the world! Worse, worse than 
that, to be crushed down by one that I should 
love. Father! one should love a father, and 
honor and respect him. Ah, with him there 
never was love. I never knew a father’s love. 
Harsh words as long as I remember, or none 
at all. And yet how I could love him if he 
were but bind and loving. What a blank 
there is in one’s life w r hen there is none to love, 
not a human being, not even a parent. Love 
is all buried and departed for me. A buried 
love is but a poor mournful consolation; aud 
yet I’d better, have 
“ loved and lost, 
Than never to have loved at all.” 
One reads and hears of the isolation < f farm- 
life, and the unsatisfied yearnings of the cul¬ 
tured family that are as it were imprisoned in 
the farm homestead. To some extent this is 
unavoidable, even in a loving, affectionate 
and united family. But who can realize the 
utter loneliness of the farm wife or daughter, 
whose aspirations are for something higher 
than her environments, and who finds no way 
to escape from herself. The excitement of 
work may satisfy the vacant mind, but when 
the windows of the intellect have been opened 
and no light enters, then the darkness becomes 
intolerable. Ones occupation is then a slavery. 
Chains and bands of iron hold the soul down 
to the dead weight of the daily life, and it 
frets and chafes and rebels against the bonds. 
It is indeed a question whether it is better for 
one to exist in ignorance, when this is bliss— 
of a negative sort certainly—than to lift one’s 
mental life above the lower material position, 
and look down upon it with constant dissatis 
faction and misery. There are persons who 
live such wretched lives in farm houses too, 
but they are by no means confined to farms 
and farm life; they may be found far more 
numerously in cities, where society is mixed 
and where persons of refined tastes, craving 
for the higher personal comforts and intellec¬ 
tual enjoyments, find themselves hopelessly 
debarred from them by a grinding poverty, 
from which there is no way of escape. And 
theirs is the misery and wretchedness of Tan¬ 
talus, who plunged to the lips in water, yet 
tormented by a raging thirst, found the cool 
liquid to sink beyond his reach, whenever he 
:>oped to drink. And as he was thus tor¬ 
mented, so those—thirsting and in sight of the 
necessary refreshment and solace, yet finding 
it always beyond their reach—are aggravated 
all the more, because of the constant presence 
of their misery. 
But this is not so much the case in farm 
life. There may be work; there -is work, and 
often hard, laborious and exacting work. 
But it is work that requires thought and skill. 
There is never a time on a farm, in a farm house 
or in a dairy, when the mind cannot be em¬ 
ployed with the hands, to aid and help, and 
this ennobles the work. The better disciplined 
and the more richly stored the mind may be, 
the lighter becomes the work of the band. 
And the work is ruled and regulated by the 
intellect. An educated farmer is never en¬ 
slaved by his work. He is the master, and he 
rales his employment and reduces it to sys¬ 
tem, and being above it and controlling it, 
never frets over it. His mind is not enthralled 
by it. When the day’s work is done, or while 
it is doing, bis mind is busy studying the in¬ 
ner part of it; all its hidden bearings, the 
reasons for it; the results of it, the vari¬ 
ations in it; all its connections near and 
remote; and these open another world to his 
view in which he lives another life. It has 
been related of a man, who during the day 
was a French chiffonier, one who gathered 
rags and garbage from the heaps of dust and 
filth of the Paris streets, but who by reason of 
his mental acquirements enjoyed greater facil¬ 
ity for making less work profitable and so 
had acquired wealth; that this man in the 
evening moved in the best and most cultured 
society; visited in the fashionable saloons as a 
cherished guest; and in scientific circles upon 
an equality with the wisest; aud thus all the 
time lived two separate lives; the first one in 
disguise and the other as his own proper self. 
In something like this the hardest worked 
farmer may find tvo lives to fill; at times he 
may leave his less desirable one and enjoy 
himself in the other, and he may find in the 
former the gratification of kuowing that it 
helps him to enjoy the latter, nay that it is 
the very means by which ue enjoys it, and 
makes it successful and more profitable. 
[To be continued.] 
OSCAR WILDE AND JEFFERSON 
DAVIS. 
The Atlanta Constitution reporter inter¬ 
viewed Oscar Wilde on bis arrival in that city, 
with the following result: 
“You have been to see Mr. Jefferson Davis 
lately. Tell me something about your visit 
to him.” 
“He lives in.a very beautiful house by the 
sea, amid lovely trees. He impressed me 
as a man of the keenest intellect and a man 
fairly to be a leader of men on account of a 
personality that is as simple as it is strong, 
and an enthusiasm that is as fervent as it is 
faultless. We in Ireland are fighting for the 
principle of autonomy against empire, for in¬ 
dependence against centralization, for the 
principles for which the South fought. So it 
was a m itter of immense interest and pleasure 
to me to meet the leader of such a great 
cause. Because, although there may be a 
failure in fact, in idea there is no failure pos¬ 
sible. The principles for which Mr, Davis 
aud the South went to war cannot suffer 
defeat. I had read Mr. Davis’ book, which is 
a masterpiece, although to ns in Europe the 
elaborate detail of military manoeuvre is at 
times a little burdensome. But there are 
passages in which he dwells on the principles 
of the Southern Confederacy that were read 
by us with the keenest interest and delight. 
It is impossible not to think nobly of a country 
that has produced Patrick Henry, Thomas 
Jefferson, George Washington and Jefferson 
Davis. Besides its great men I admire in the 
South the wonderful beauty of its vegetation. 
I have seen no forests in Europe more wonder¬ 
ful, no flowers more exquisite in perfume or 
in color. It is worth while to come over here 
merely to see the magnolia in full blossom. 
It should be—the South—the home of art in 
America, because it possesses the most perfect 
surroundings; and now that it is recovering 
from the hideous ruin from the war I have no 
doubt that all these beautiful arts, iu whose 
cause I will spend my youth in pleading, will 
spring up among you. The South has pro¬ 
duced the best poet of America—Edgar Allan 
Poe; and with all its splendid traditions it 
would be impossible not to believe that she 
will continue to perfect what she has begun so 
nobly. The very physique of the people in 
the South is far finer than that in the North, 
and a temperament infinitely more susceptible 
to the influences of beauty. 
BABY IS DEAD. 
“Baby is dead !” Three little words pass¬ 
ing along the wire copied somewhere and soon 
forgotten. But after all was quiet again I 
leaned my head on my hand and fell into a 
deep reverie of all that those words may 
mean. 
Somewhere—a dainty form, still and cold, 
unclasped by mother’s arms to night. Eyes 
that yesterday were bright and blue as skies 
of June dropped to night beneath white lids, 
that no voice can ever raise again. 
The soft hands, whose rose-leaf fingers 
were wont to wander lovin gly around moth¬ 
ers’ neck and face, loosely holding white buds 
quietly folded in coffined dress. 
Soft lips, yesterday rippling with laughter 
sweet as woodland brook fall, gay as trill of 
forest bird, to night unresponsive to kiss or 
call of love. 
A silent home—the patter of baby feet for¬ 
ever hushed—a cradle bed unpressed. Little 
shoes half worn—dainty garment—shoulder 
knots of blue to match those eyes of yester¬ 
day, folded with aching heart away. 
A tiny mound. 6now-covered in some quiet 
graveyard. 
A mother’s groping touch in uneasy slum¬ 
ber for the fair beat! that shall never stir up¬ 
on her bosom. The low sob, the bitter tear, 
as broken dreams awake to 
sad reality. Thehopes of fu¬ 
ture years wrecked, like fair 
ships that suddenly go down 
within sight of land. 
The watching of other 
babies, dimpled, laughing, 
strong, and this one gone; 
the present agony of grief, 
the futureemptiness of heart, 
all held in those three little 
words, “ Baby is dead ?” 
Indeed, it is well that we can copy and 
soon forget the words so freighted with woe 
to those who receive and send them. And 
yet it cannot harm us, now and then, to give a 
tender thought to those for whom our careless 
pen stroke is preparing such a weight of 
grief. 
The Secret of Beauty.— The secret of 
beauty is health. Those who desire to be 
beautiful should do all they can to restore 
their health if they have lost it, or to keep it 
if they have it yet. No one can lay down 
specific rules for other people in these matters- 
The work which one may do, the rest be must 
take, his baths, his diet, his exercise, are mat¬ 
ters for individual consideration, but they 
must be carefully thought of and never 
neglected. As a rule, when a person feels 
well he looks well; and when he looks ill he 
feels ill, as a general thing. There are times 
when one could guess, without looking in the 
glass, that one’s eyes are dull and one’s skin 
is mottled. This is not a case for something 
in a pretty bottle from the perfumer’s, or for 
the lotion that the circulars praise so highly. 
To have a fresh complexion and bright eyes, 
even to have white hands and graceful figure, 
you must be well. Health and the happiness 
that usually comes with it are the true secrets 
of beauty. 
CONDUCTED BY MISS KA Y CLARK. 
TRUE LOVE. 
There Is true love, and yet you may 
nave lingering doubts ubout It; 
I’ll tell the truth and simply say 
That life Is a blank without It. 
There Is a love both true and strong, 
A love that falters never: 
It lives on faith and suffers wrong, 
But lives and loves forever. 
Such love is found but. once on earth— 
The heart cannot repel It; 
From whence it comes, or why tts birth, 
The tongue uiny never tell It. 
This love Is mine, In spite of all. 
This love l fondly cherish; 
The earth may sluk, the skies may fall. 
This love will never perish. 
It Is a love that cannot die. 
But, like the soul, Immortal. 
And with it cleaves the slurry sky 
And p'isses through the portal. 
This is the love, that comes to stay— 
All other loves are fleeting; 
And when they come Just, turn away— 
It Is but Cupid eheatlug. 
—Alice Carey. 
-- 
SQUIBS IN BLACK AND WHITE. 
Our grand or great grandmothers, as the 
case may be, had neither so matjy induce¬ 
ments nor so many opportunities as the pres¬ 
ent generation to develop their talents in the 
higher branches of art. They consequently 
were content with woolwork uud bead and 
fancy stitch embroidery, whilst the more en¬ 
terprising tried their hand at silhoutte cut¬ 
ting. Perhaps they learned the latter art 
from the French refugee ladies, who, from 
their colony in Soho, introduced so many 
pretty handicrafts among English girls and 
matrons. Some of their pupils soon became 
as deft with their scissors in producing por¬ 
traits and squibs in black and white as their 
teachers, and the albums or keepsakes at the 
beginning of the present century were full of 
them. However, silhouette cutting died out 
in England, like so many other kinds of hand¬ 
iwork, and reappeared only a few years ago. 
Portraiture in black profile of course did not 
take part, in this revival; but humoristic and 
fanciful groups of animals, children, flowers, 
etc., have become favorite means for Illus¬ 
trating nursery rhymes and Christmas books, 
for decorating china or glass, and for orna¬ 
menting linen articles. We should not be at 
all surprised if some enterprising manufactu¬ 
rer of chintzes would for next season print 
silhouettes on his wares instead of Kate 
Greenaway’s figures. Why should not a lady 
paint her dress trimmings, her fan or her sun¬ 
shade with silhouettes, as a relief from the 
floral wreaths and scrolls now so commonly 
used for the purpose t 
On lamp shades silhouettes have an excel¬ 
lent effect and small table tops can be orna¬ 
mented with them to look like etched ivory. 
The scenes from the life of goblins are full of 
humor, and capitally executed to the tiniest 
detail, facial expression and pose of every 
goblin being Individualized to a marvelous 
degree. One hardly would believe that such 
microscopic work could be done with scissors, 
but even these examples of minute cutting are 
not the smallest by far which have been suc¬ 
cessfully attempted. 
These same figures, with all the hair lines 
forming leaves, stems etc., that seem almost 
Goblin at Sea.—Fig. 308. 
impossible to cut out of paper, we have seen 
sawed out of wood, and when finished were 
laid on a pi‘ ce of cotton, lest they should 
perish in the handling, the workmanship be¬ 
ing so exceedingly fine. There begau a few 
years ago quite a mania for fret sawing; even 
the ladies bee me both interested, and fascin¬ 
ated with the work, beautifj ing their homes 
with the result of their labors. We have 
seen some of the finest cutting done by the 
delicate fingers of ladies; even the flowing 
hair of a figure, wis sawed in as skillful a 
manner as a well trained artist could have 
done;showing a steady hand and straight eye. 
Considerable of this kind of woik was done 
with a little hand saw, not oue run with a 
treadle such as “ Fleetwood,” or “Dexter;” 
which at that time were somewhat, expensive, 
but can be purchased now- at a low figure. 
Goblins over tiieir Quarry.— Fig 309. 
The cuts we give to-day are scenes from 
goblin life highly grotesque as well as humor¬ 
ous; and we call attention to the perfect trac¬ 
ings of the Augers, whiskers, and more 
especially the fern leaves. Articles forborne 
use can be made easily, and do not require 
the skill of an artisan. Swiss clocks, of va¬ 
rious designs, boxes for holding gloves, hand¬ 
kerchiefs, etc; also writing desks, screens, as 
well as large pieces of furniture, such as 
chairs and tables are now no rare thing as the 
result of fret sawing. 0. o. 
Goblins and Grasshopper.—Fig. 307. 
