for Women. 
CONDUCTED BY MISS RAY CLARK. 
THE BRIDAL VEIL. 
ALICE CARRY. 
Wk’ue married they say, and you think you have 
won mo— 
Well, take this white veil from my head and look on 
me; 
Sere's matter to vex you and matter to grieve you, 
Here’s doubt to distrust you and faith to believe 
you - 
I am all, as you see, common earth, common dew; 
Be wary and mould me to rosea, not rue 1 
Ah ! shake out the filmy thing, fold after fold, 
And see If you have me to keep and to hold— 
Look close on my heart-see worst of its sinning— 
t, Is not yours to day for the yesterday’s winning— 
The past Is not mine T am too proud to borrow— 
you must grow to new bights if l love you to-mor. 
row. 
We’re married ! I’m plighted to hold up your praises, 
As the turf at your feet does its handful Of daisies; 
That way Ucs my honor—my pathway of pride. 
But, mark yon if greener grass grow either side, 
shall know It, and keeping the body with you, 
Shall walk In my spirit with feet on the dew ! 
We’re married ! Oh, pray that our love do not fail! 
I have wings fastened down and hlddeu under my 
voll; 
They are subtle as light—you can never undo them, 
And swift in their flight—you can never pursue them, 
And spite of all clasping and spite of all bauds, 
I can slip like a shadow, a dream, from your bauds. 
Nay, call me not cruel, and fear not to take me, 
I am yours for my lifetime to be what you make me. 
To wear my white veil fur a sign or a cover, 
As you shall be proven my lord or my lover j 
A cover lor peace that is dead, or a token 
01 bliss that can never bo written or spoken. 
SKETCHES OF GERMAN LIFE. 
BERTHA A. ZEDI WINKLER. 
May-Day. 
Quite a merry bustle prevailed in the vil¬ 
lage on the evening before the first of May. 
The people seemed determined to make the 
most of their opportunities for recreation in 
the long season of field labor. 
The young folks, especially, were in their 
glory. Those black, and blue, and brown eyes 
danced so merrily in their little heads; and 
the brown feet skipped over the road in joy¬ 
ous anticipation of the next day’s festival, 
though they were still put to work in the twi¬ 
light. Within, the busy housewives *» ere tak¬ 
ing the last cake from the oven, or looking 
over the garments of her household for miss¬ 
ing buttons, and spreading the girl’s “best" 
on the chair, forestalling delay in the morning. 
The men-folk were in the stable, currying the 
cattle and cutting an extra supply of fodder. 
All in preparation for May day. 
With the first streaks of dawn the young 
folks started in bauds to the forest for violets 
and May-bells (Lilies of the Valley). Their 
gay voices and laughter echoing through the 
forest awoke the feathered songsters far and 
near. Then there was music 1 Gay, thrilling, 
joyous carols, from lark, and robin, and finch, 
with the deep notes of the cuckoo and the 
cooing of the wild dove in the background, 
filled the air and welcomed the dawn. As 
though it was an invisible communion of the 
Creator with creation, so joyous and yet so 
solemnly grand, was this sudden awakening 
of life in the forest. 
The young villa,ers did not seem so much 
impressed by it, for they continued their chat¬ 
tering with each other as they crouched among 
the bushes for the flowers. But then, it is 
nothing new to them; they are treated to this 
early Spring chorus every morning on their 
way to work. For my part, 1 have never 
heard anything like it in American forests. 
Well supplied with -floral tributes, they 
started for the nearest town, about six miles 
distant, to celebrate the festival with all the 
neighboring villagers who there congregate. 
One peculiar feature in their mode of walking 
in companies, I adrnir; especially. Instead of 
grouping themselves together, in twos and 
threes, close on each other’s heels, some fifteen 
or twenty walk abreast, arm-in-arm, forming 
a single line across the broad highway. In 
this neat, orderly manner, they arrive at the 
city singing, and are joined by other villagers 
singing also, until they come to a full stop on 
the May grounds, w here they disperse to meet 
acquaintances, shake hands with old friends 
and prepare for a good time. 
The grounds on which the festival is held 
here is a sorb of park, several squares long 
and only one square wide, bounded on both 
sides by deep rushing streams. The park is 
named ‘ 1 Malia," the name of a beautiful J'rau- 
lein, who is said to have leaped into the water 
from the spot where her lover expired from 
wounds received in a duel he fought for her 
sake. And, indeed, when one sits there under 
those shady chestnuts and broad-leaved pop¬ 
lars, listening to the rustling of the young 
foliage overhead; the murmurs of the stream 
and the distant hum of water-wheels; then 
sees the numerous rustic bridges, with here 
and there a solitary figure balancing primitive 
stone jugs on their heads, one feels at once 
transported to the middle a get, when lovely 
ladies and noble cavaliers were promenading 
in the moonlight on these banks, audthe clink 
of the cavalier's sword was heard in the early 
morning wiping out insults and defending 
honor—in blood. 
From these dreams of the chivalric, warlike 
past, one awakens, to find the reality no less 
interesting. In the morning, the city regi¬ 
ments come here to drill; the school children, 
headed by the teachers, occasionally prome¬ 
nade in the afternoon; and in the evening, 
everybody comes to witness the gymnastic ex¬ 
ercises of the Turners, whose feats of strength 
and agility create iutense amusement. 
Besides the scaffolding of the Turners, they 
had erected swings, May-poles, flying coaches, 
dancing floors, and booths. The rustic bridges 
bent and creaked under the weight of human¬ 
ity which poured in, laughing, singing, and 
joggling in exuberant joy. Strains of music 
from the dancing grounds announced the 
opening of the festivitie , and the motley 
crowd separated in family groups, lovers' cor¬ 
ners, or in search of some favorite amusement. 
The old folks drank beer and discussed busi¬ 
ness; juniors made for the girls and the danc¬ 
ing floors. Boys climbed the May-pole, to be 
laughed at or applauded in the effort to secure 
the cake, w hich is stuck on top of the p6le for 
the best climber, who then presents it to what¬ 
ever girl be chooses to favor. The younger 
girls enjoyed the swings, little ones were lifted 
in flying coaches, while the organ grinders’ 
free concert aud the jugglei’’s open exhibition 
attracted the strolling multitude. 
Towards noon the booth restaurants were 
crowded with huugry, uoisy customers. Sau¬ 
sage, cheese, pretzels, beer, wine, cider—every¬ 
thing eatable and drinkable, was called for, 
aud the kellner was flying most frantically 
among the guests. The quiet, hard-working 
peasants bad suddenly changed into jolly jok¬ 
ers, and sentimental lovers who quoted Schil¬ 
ler and ate cheese, while the boisterous little 
world was crowding as much pleasure as pos¬ 
sible into the only too short day. 
When the weary multitude had departed for 
their homes, and the bright moonlight threw 
the shadow- of some remaining couples upon 
the rippling waters, we again contrasted the 
past with the present. Then, the splendid 
equipages, the dashing horsemen, the flashing 
swords and the waving plumes. Now% the gay 
peasants, the plain artisan, and the boisterous 
mirth. But, though we sigh at the splendor 
and romance of the past, we rejoice in the 
sunken power of feudalism, the broken fetters 
of vassalage, and the progress of a humane 
civilization, w'hich has opened these pleasure- 
gardens of the mighty few to the humble 
many. The actors have changed, but the 
theatre and the grand old drama, “ Love," 
still retains their wonted charm. Still the old, 
sweet word is whispered and sung on May day 
eve beside the rippling stream. And we, oh, 
we sing: 
“ saine out, stars! let night assemble 
Round us every festal ray; 
Lights that wave not, lights that tremble, 
To adorn this eve of May." 
Domestic Ccotiomi} 
CONDUCTED BV EMILY MAP LE 
ECHOES FROM EVERY-DAY HOUSE. 
ANNIE L. JACK. 
There is a common saying, “ every one to 
his taste," and in nothing is it better exempli¬ 
fied than in the varied methods of cooking to 
be seen in a"Domestic Economy"column. 
Now comes a recipe for sandwiches to be made 
of scraped “ uncooked 1 ' beef, that causes all 
the cooks in this house a feeling akin to sea¬ 
sickness. But there it is in printer’s ink. Who 
dare dispute it f Then we tried the salsify 
without scraping, but could not relish the 
diugy look of the article, and decided that we 
preferred its looks scraped, even if we did 
lose a little of the flavor. No accounting for 
tastes! And people have such different ideas 
of things according to their character or as¬ 
sociations. It is this dilliculty that presses 
hard upon the editor of a Domestic column in 
a newspaper that is read through such a vide 
range of country as the Rural New-Yorker. 
The present in Canada and the Northern States 
is the past in the Southern, and while we are 
contriving how to make a variety with the old 
last year’s vegetables and fruits they are 
reveling in green peas and the luxuries of our 
July. And this feeling extends, in many cases, 
to the entertainment of guests, especially that 
part which pertains to table luxuries. 
Last Autumn, during an absence from tome, 
I was obliged, unexpectedly, to dine with an 
acquaintance who had not prepared for guests. 
During the pleasant dinner chat she said, as 
the plates were being changed after the meat 
course, “I hope you are not like a lady who 
was out to dinner, and who remarked at just 
such a time as this, 1 1 can eat anything—any¬ 
thing but rice pudding’—and it so happened 
that was the only dessert.” I assured my 
hostess I could eat rice pudding. Yet I sym¬ 
pathized with the dilemma, for every house¬ 
keeper wishes to kuow what a guest prefers, i 
and only close attention during the first meal i 
or two can solve in any measure the difficulty. f 
I am writing, of course, for plain and simple l 
households, and to such I would say, over and s 
above the pudding, trust to fruit. Cooked or c 
raw, it is sure to tempt even a fastidious pal- t 
ate and, besides being ornamental on the table, 
it is healthful and frequently chosen by many , 
in preference to pudding or pie. i 
HOUSE-CLEANING NOTES. 1 
ADELINE E. STORY. 1 
_ j 
We last year used alabastine as a wash for 
hard finished walls, with such good results 
that we shall use it again this Spring. It is ‘ 
easily applied; any one who knows how to 
use a whitewash brush properly can do the 1 
w ork. It leaves a perfectly smooth surface, 1 
effectually conceals any cracks which may be 
in the wall, and does not rub off. Mixed to 
the consistency of paste, the alabastine is just 
the thing with which to fill up nail holes and 
any places where the plaster may baveshiunk 
away from the wood-work. 
We find the fluid we use for washing excel¬ 
lent to extract grease spots from floors and 
fingermarks from around door knobs. The 
fluid is made by boiling one pound sal soda 
I and one-half pound quicklime in five quarts 
of water. Wet the grease spots w ell with the 
fluid, lettiug it remain for half an hour ; then 
wash off with warm water. For the doors, 
dip a cloth slightly in the fluid, rub on and 
wash off at once. 
How often we are admonished to clean but 
one room at a time, in order that we may es¬ 
cape the confusion incident to a whole house 
“ torn up” at once. Now I never saw house- 
cleaning done in that wholesale manner unless 
the house consisted of not more than two rooms, 
and I doubt whether anybody ever did. It 
would be a very poor plan for obvious rea¬ 
sons, and so is the one room-at-o-time plan, 
especially when there is more than one en¬ 
gaged in the work, as there generally is. 
I huve found it so at least, and whenever I 
have set myself to cleaning a room, with the 
determination to get through with it before 
going further, I have found myself, almost 
before I knew’ it, taking up the carpet in an¬ 
other, simply because I could do two rooms to 
better advantage in point of time and labor 
than one. Particularly is this the case with 
rooms opening into each other. Parlor aud 
parlor bedrooms, if the rooms above have 
been cleared previously, may be taken in baud 
at one and the same time. So with dining 
room and whatever room adjoins it, providing 
it be not the kitchen; that might oblige the 
lord of the manor to take his dinner from an 
inverted flour-barrel, a thing that happens 
quite often enough now—in print. 
But t ere is cue room that wants the entire 
field to itself, and that is the pantry. It is the 
easiest thing in the world for it, when its time 
of disgorgement comes,to overflow the kitchen, 
the cellar way, and I had almost said, the back 
yard, with its array of unmentionable con¬ 
veniences and inconveniences. 
But when order is fully restored, when the 
shelves are newly dressed in clean paper, and 
everythiug—from the sausage grinder to the 
nutmeg grater—is in its place, one feels a satis¬ 
faction that might also be happiness, were it 
not for the thought that whit is sure to come 
as the Summer so close at hand—the insatiable 
fly- __ 
The best place for boots and shoes that have 
got past wear, is under the dinner-pot in the 
kitchen stove. They make an excellent fire, 
and thrown where else you will, they are 
an object of unsightliuess 
A twenty-minutes’ rest taken, lying, in 
the middle of the day, is a wonderful help to¬ 
ward getting through the day without that 
“ tired to death” feeling so many complain of. 
If onechances to fall asleep for five or ten 
minutes, so much the better. 
i 
A SENSIBLE BRIDE. 
> MAT MAPLE. 
A bride of a few months was sweet-faced 
; Carrie Milton, and very love!}'she looked in 
her pretty cambric wrapper, the morning that 
, 1 called at her brother’s home, where she was 
i spending a few weeks ere she took upon her¬ 
self the duties of a housekeeper. 
i But what attracted my particular attention 
was the work w ith which the young lady was 
busying herself. Strange as it may seem in 
this day of decoration, she was not making 
impossible cats and dogs on java canvass, or 
crocheting; neither was she engaged in mak¬ 
ing flowers, or potter}' painting; but she held 
in her ljgnda piece of fine unbleached muslin 
which she was making into a pillow case, sew’- 
ing the seam over and over in the old-fash¬ 
ioned way our grandmothers did in the long 
ago. Soon the broad hem was turned down 
by a thread and sewed. The stitches were so 
small and true that one almost needed a mi¬ 
croscope to discover them. How- beautiful 
the work looked! 
“ But why do you do all this by hand when 
you could do it so much more quickly on your 
mother’s machine ?” inquired a friend who 
was present; “ and why do you use the un¬ 
bleached muslin ?” 
“ Oh, it looks so much better when it begins 
to be slightly worn; there are never any 
frayed corners toin out by the wind when the 
washing is out, nor dark lines along the hems 
when hanging on the line, and I rea ly like to 
sew as my mother taught me before machines 
were so common. I don’t mean to he depend 
ent on a machine while I have an abundance 
of time on my hands. Of course, I might 
have had all this work done before I was mar¬ 
ried if I had so desired. But then I should 
have been so hurried that instead of helping 
mother, she no doubt would have worked her¬ 
self sick in the endeavor to assist me. But we 
did at our leisure what we thought necessary 
before the wedding, and then enjoyed each 
others’ society in ever}' possible way by lay¬ 
ing plans for my future improvement, visit¬ 
ing pleasant, intelligent people ami sometimes 
takiug long rambles together in the grand 
old wood. My last year at home will 
always be full of sweet remembrances. 
And now I have an abundance of leisure, 
that I fear would sometimes hang heavy on 
my hands during my husband’s long absences, 
were it not for those trunks full of cloth to 
be made into household accessories." 
“ Carrie likes sewing better than I do,” said 
her sister-in law, “but then, as she says, she 
has plenty of time just now’; and that is more 
than most of us can say.” 
“ 1 do not mean to overtask my energies,” 
said Mrs. Melton,” with hand sewing. When 
a machine can be truly economical, as regards 
time or strength, be assured I shall have one 
if possible. When my work becomes so press¬ 
ing that I cannot have time to read and study 
and keep myself posted upon the important 
events of the day, then I shall think a sewing 
machine is a necessity.” 
“Well I must say that is a sensible idea,” 
said my friend. And I w r as sure her husband 
would have good reasons in the years to come 
to praise the works of her hand, and also to 
appreciate the pleasures of a well balanced 
mind. 
“ I use unbleached sheeting ” she continued, 
“because mother thinks it wears much longer 
and is loss liable to grow yellow when once it 
is bleached; besides, it washes easier, unless 
one buys that which has a hard, wiry thread.” 
TO CLEAN OIL PAINTINGS. 
The best thing to cleanse and preserve an 
oil painting with, is megilp. A tube of it can 
be obtained for ten or fifteen cents, and it 
should be applied with a piece of old, soft silk, 
and after it has been well applied, wipe off 
with another piece of the silk. This effectu¬ 
ally cleanses the painting besides making it 
look quite fresh, especially if it be an old 
painting. It prevents the painting from 
cracking, but should not be applied oftener 
than once a year, while once in two years is 
sufficiently often. w V. A. 
A FEW HINTS TO HOUSEKEEPERS. 
Glass cans may be put to many uses when 
not filled with fruit. They are splendid to 
make vinegar in, filled with cider reduced 
with soft water sweetened and set in the sun. 
Meat for mince pies may be prepared, 
sweetened and flavored; the apples may be 
added already chopped, the whole cooked 
slightly, and canned up tightly when it will 
keep almost any length of time, and in an 
emergency a few pies, iuay be made at short 
notice. 
A tablespoonful or so of lard rubbed into 
the flour before wetting up bread adds to the 
quality of it. Aunt Rachel. 
-- 
QUESTIONS ANSWERED. 
COOKING OAT-MEAL. 
Please give directions for cooking oat¬ 
meal. Mrs. R. 8. 
Ans.— Oat-mcal mush: Provide yourself 
with a custard-kettle, or, in lieu of that, cook 
the mush in a tin pail set within a kettle of 
boiling water, or put into a dish and steam. 
Salt two quarts of boiling water aud stir in 
by degrees one-and-one-half cup of oat-meal. 
