756 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
NOV 4 
don’t recollect ever having heard such a grand 
tone;” “Is that a Straduarius you are playing 
on!” and especially to an amateur,* “You must 
have practised a great deal to produce such 
an effect from your instrument.” To which 
latter remark he is sure to acknowledge with 
pride the trouble, patience, and labor, to say 
nothing of time or spare holiday hourB, it has 
cost him to do the little he does. If there is one 
instrument more than another that humbles 
a man in bis own estimation, it is the violin, 
a d unlike the piano, flute, cornet, and their 
numerous allieB, where the notes are made 
for the executionist, and where the most 
mediocre talent can exhibit its powers, this 
or its kindred instruments never allows the 
player to think himself perfect in bis art or 
leaves him unconscious of difficulties to be 
overcome. Another hint. 
The hight of perfection if you know noth¬ 
ing about the instrument is never to touch 
your friend’s violin, but should you wish to 
twang the sfcri ngs, never touch them near the 
bridge or between the fingerboard and the 
bridge. Your hand may be warm, and so un¬ 
consciously a touch there will leave its marks, 
imperceptible perhaps to you, but soon dis¬ 
covered the next time the bow is applied to 
the strings by a squeak or other disagreeable 
noise, which sometimes is only to be got rid 
of by a change of string and a new set. The 
game may be said of the bow itself. If you 
want to take it up be most careful not to 
touch the hair with the fingers or hand, no 
matter how cold and dry they may appear to 
be, as the effects in that case may be even 
more disastrous still, compelling the disuse of 
that bow until it has been newly haired. It 
will be fouml very easy to take the bow by 
the wood, holding it by the nut or heel at, one 
end and the tip at the other. The fear of see¬ 
ing the hair of a bow or the bowing part of 
the strings of his instrument tou hed has 
caused much palpitation of the heart and 
many a pang for fear of the consequences. 
My last to ybu is a bint I would give to all 
who happen to be in the presence of anyone 
asked to play. It is, to say the least of it. 
most rude to speak while singing, or while 
music is being discoursed, but to talk while a 
violinist is drawing forth melody for you 
is most cruel. No one with gentle manners 
will talk while singing, ora recitation is going 
on, because the individuals so engaged are 
speaking to or for them, and why should peo¬ 
ple make a point as soon as anyone starts 
playing on an instrument, to talk louder or if 
they have not spoken before, to commence at 
once, a conversation! The instrumentalist is 
speaking to his audience through his instru¬ 
ment, and longs for his audience to enter into, 
sympathize with, and understand each change, 
modulation, or treatment of his theme, and 
when be returns suddenly, after having per¬ 
haps been carried away by the charms of 
the composer, almost into another werld, 
back into the earthly drawing-room, to hear 
people doing their best to drown the har¬ 
monies with their buzzing prattle, none but 
those who have experienced it, can say how 
heartbreaking such thoughtless conduct is, 
and if the pianist or player on a keyed instru¬ 
ment feels this to a great degree, I am not 
exaggerating, when I say that torture is uot 
the name for what the violinist suffers. 
MARRIAGE. 
Marriage, truly and rightly considered, 
may doubtless be productive of great happi¬ 
ness-greater than it is possible to obtain un¬ 
der any other circumstances; but it makes 
one shudder to think of the end of so many 
of the beautiful imaginings of the young and 
happy heart. I look round the world, and 
grieve over the holiest tie that can exist on 
earth, and this because people do not con¬ 
tract it from motives sufficiently high It is, 
or should be, a bond to exist through eternity 
that complete union of souls so beautifully 
typified in the Arabian belief that after 
death the married pair melt into one angel 
It is, on the contrary, frequently debased by 
a merely sensual union, or one of conven¬ 
ience or of gain. A gentleman marries be¬ 
cause he is in want of a lady to rule his house¬ 
hold, to receive his friends, and, in fact, be 
. a superior housekeeper. A lady leaves the 
cherished borne and the love of her kindred, 
and all that has been most dear to her, simply 
for a name and for a ring. How few ever 
think of the moral and intellectual qualities 
of their future companions? W dat are the 
general questions asked of strangers who 
happen to attract our attention. Not are 
they noble-minded or generous, but are they 
rich or handsome ? 
All good gifts are to be valued, but surely 
those of the mind and heart are more precious 
than merely physical attributes, or the vain 
glitter of gold and silver. Let us consider 
what love really is. It is not a mere selfish 
fondness; it is a gem of the purest water, un¬ 
changed by time or circumstances; it is eternal 
in its nature; and beautiful as are the things 
said of it, they are less than the feeling itself. 
badly cut on broken glass before folks will 
remember to bury or throw in some safe place 
such rubbish. 
Yes, and there are still worse traps about 
many premises that are breeding sickness and 
death all through the Summer and Fall. Bad 
drainage about a spacious farm-house I know 
is, I believe, the main cause of the serious and 
almost constant sickness which has prevailed 
there for two or three years. Every Summer 
one or more of the inmates lie for weeks at 
death’s door, and but for a remarkable, inher¬ 
ited tenacity of life the physicians feel that 
they must have died long ago. Farmers do 
make mistakes when they use,year after year, 
the old well into which so much of the ooze 
about the premises soaks. Even “the old 
oaken bucket, the moss-covered bucket,” had 
much better be split up lor firewood and re¬ 
placed by a brand new one. The pleasure 
of drinking water from such old rotten wood 
is entirely a poetic fiction. You are apt to 
taste the moss too plainly. 
Don’t keep a “ trap” of this sort about your 
house or land. Don’t buy any property with¬ 
out first seeing that the drainage is right. It 
is a matter even more important than the 
quality of the soil or the convenience of the 
home. Olive. 
fashionable now worn. Fig. 415 is a walking 
shoe, to be worn with stockings to match the 
color of dress. Fig, 416 is made of claret vel¬ 
vet, edged with a gold cord and terminating 
with tassels. The effect of this worn with 
The bosom that harbors it in the fullest 
and highest seme has received a heavenly 
guest; living on like the sun, through good 
and evil, unchanged by falsehood or the 
world’s bitter trials. When this sun first shines 
upon the heart, it seems as if a higher and 
far brighter existence had begun for us. The 
earth seems more fair to us; the flowers never 
looked so beautiful, the sky never so blue, the 
birds Bing more melodiously, the trees wave 
more gladly in the breeze. 
This season, the early Summer of life, comes 
to most who are endowed with imagination, 
but it is often as fleeting as the first bright, 
joyous days of the earth's Summer itself. 
Every woman should leara that where her 
home i", there her duties lie; and she should 
make that home a little paradise to all who 
come within its magic circle. She should be 
ever willing to add to its comfort and ele¬ 
gance and never forget to look her prettiest, 
Fig. 416. 
dress of the same color, is very elegant. Fig. 
417 to be worn with a full evening costume, 
made of blue satin embroidered with blue and 
crystal beads. Figs. 418 and 419 are also for 
evening wear. Fig. 418 is made of pale pink 
for Women 
CONDUCTED BY MISS RAY CLARK. 
LEFT ALONE. 
Fig. 417. 
satin and trimmed with black or white lace, 
as shown in cut, finished at the top with a full 
bow of pink ribbon. Fig. 419 is made of 
white satin simply trimmed with two bows 
of ribbon, the larger one at the top. 
There are some pretty novelties in ladies’ 
walking shoes, the scalloping and stitching 
of which are thoroughly well finished, and 
What did you say, dear? Breakfast? 
Somehow I've slept too late; 
You are very kind, dear Eflle, 
Go tell them not to wait. 
I’ll dress as quick as ever I can, 
My old hands tremble sore, 
And Polly, who used to help, dear heart 
Lies't other side of the door. 
Put up the old pipe, my dear, 
I couldn't smoke]to-day; 
I’m sort of dazed and frightened, 
And don't know what to say. 
It's lonesome In the house, here, 
And lonesome out of door, 
I never knew what lonesome meant 
In all my life before. 
The bees go humming the whole day long, 
And the first June rose has blown. 
And I am eighty, I am to-day— 
Too old to be left alone. 
O heart of love, so still and cold! 
O precious lips so white! 
For the first sad hours in sixty years 
You were out of my reach last night! 
I can't rest now—I cannot rest— 
Let the old man have his will, 
And wander from porch to garden post; 
The house Is so deathly still— 
Wander and long for a sight of the gate 
She has left ajar for me. 
We bad got ao used to each other, dear— 
So used to each other, you see. 
Sixty years, and so wise and good! 
She made me a better man 
From the moment I kissed her fair, young face. 
And our lover's life began. 
And I held her hand-Was It yesterday 
That we stood up to be wed? 
And—no, I remember; I'm eighty to-day, 
And my dear wife Polly la dead! 
FlG. 418. 
they are cut to give a good appearance on the 
spot. The Richelieu is made in several vari¬ 
eties—brown cashmere, with bronza facings 
and fronts, or the same in buff and bronze, 
blue and patent, so that the upper part can be 
made to match any dress. They are finished 
with glace kid, bronze or patent fronts, ac¬ 
cording to taste. The ‘Helene’ boot is pro- 
Fig. 419. 
duced by a combination of glace kid and very 
soft patent leather; they lace up the front, and 
are very neatly finished by prettily stitched 
facings. The aesthetic shoes continue to be 
worn for the evening and the house; they re¬ 
semble a sandal, and were designed for the 
opera of ‘Patience.’ They have also recently 
been worn at a wedding by bridesmaids. They 
are made with straps across the foot. Most 
of the shoes have exceedingly high heels, c.c. 
Many a handsome toilet—or one that would 
have been so—has been spoiled by wearing 
shabby shoes; for there is as much character 
and taste to be shown in dressing the feet as 
in dressing the head. We have seen ladies 
attired in rich satins and velvets, when to 
apply an old adage, “if they looked at their 
feet, their feathers would fall off.” 
Throwing the shoe after the wedded pair 
was no doubt intended as an augury of long 
life to the bride. In Yorkshire the ceremony 
of shoe throwing is termed “thrashing,” and 
the older the shoe the greater the lack, and in 
some parts of Kent the mode of procedure is 
somewhat peculiar. 
After the departure of the bride and the 
bridegroom the single ladies are drawn up in 
one row and the bachelors in another. When 
thu 9 arranged an old shoe is thrown as far as 
possible, which the fair sex run for, the win¬ 
ner being ccnsidered to have the best chance 
of marriage. 
She then throws the shoe at the gentlemen, 
when the first who gets it is believed to have 
same chance of matrimony A somewhit 
similar custom prevails in Germany, where 
the bride’s shoe is thrown among the guests 
at the wedding, the person who succeeds in 
catching it being supposed to have every 
prospect of a speedy marriage. 
And even in these day 9, there are weddings 
“ I guess it will stay,” said Emily, rather 
doubtfully, as she shoved up the window, the 
catch of which was not very secure. 
“ Better put a stick under it, Emily,” said 
mother, hurrying out to look after her cookies 
in the oven. 
“ I don’t know where to find a stick suita¬ 
ble,” thought Emma. “ I don’t believe it will 
fall, it seems pretty sound,” and she gave it a 
little shake and then went out with Cousin 
Jenny into the garden to pick currants for 
jelly. Little Busy and Clarence came in for 
a play and were romping about awhile, when 
Susy left off and sat by the window playing 
with her paper dolls. Clarence was bounding 
about after his ball, whena sudden jar brought 
down the window with a crash, and Susy’s 
little hand was imprisoned fast. Oh! what a 
cry of pain startled the two girls in the gar¬ 
den, and brought all the house rushing to the 
rescue. But the poor, crushed fiDgers, though 
hel 1 in a goblet of ice water, were so painful 
that little Susy fainted again and again. Then 
Emily reproached herself, but how little that 
helped the suffering child There was one 
thing, though, the was likely to remember, 
and that was not to leave an unsafe window 
in that way again. 
So many such lessons have to be learned by 
sad experience. Somebody has to fall into 
the open cistern before‘it is fairly curbed. 
Some one must be accidentally shut into the 
closet that closes with a spring-lock, and half 
smothered, before the fastening will be 
changed. Some little bare foot has to be 
ABOUT WOMEN. 
The Golden Trumpet Hotel, Reicheubach, 
Germany, has been kept for 80 years by Mrs. 
Mehnert, who is hale at 99. 
Anna K. Hawley, of Delhi, La., has 
patented a button thst can be readily attached 
to garments without sewing, and readily re¬ 
moved without injury. 
Adelaide Phillips, the fine contralto, was 
a native of Stratford-on-Avon, and at her 
death was just 49 years old. She carries a 
great deal of love iuto her grave. 
Twknty-ftve women employees of Jordan, 
Marsh & Co., of Boston, weut to Europe on a 
vacation duriug the past Summer, and were 
liberally entertained there for several months 
by the firm. 
The white ribbon is to be carried in person 
from Florida to Arizona this Fall and Win¬ 
ter by Miss Frances E. Willard, President 
‘ a - A** 
Fig. 415. 
where this custom is still carried out, though 
there has gotten to be so much pomp and 
ceremony, that the good wishes of friends are 
not appreciated if shown in this old time 
manner. 
Shoes are now-a-days an expensive item of 
dress, and we give several cuts of the most 
