238 
APRIL 40 
fifcrarg HUsdlang. 
SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT. 
In our Issue of May 1st we shall begin the pub¬ 
lication ol an original Farm Story, by Charles 
Kichards Dodge, the author ot “ Louise and I,” a 
Sea-side Story, published by G. W. Carleton & Co., 
New York. It combines the bright, practical, 
scientific and romantic sides of the subject In ques¬ 
tion, and shows the value of a scientific education 
upon the farm; also that success may come 
through failure, and that a womau is a help to a 
man In the achievement of success. Our readers 
will be Instructed as well as entertained, as the 
agreeable and impressive manner which Is em¬ 
ployed to convey the thought, of the writer cannot 
fall to be appreciated. 
THE BALANCE SHEET. 
Life’s Ledger opens and a strange new date 
Is on the pope that else were pure and white, 
And we must cast our balance-sheet of fate, 
Sum up the columns of the past., and write 
What we have gained from the great circling' yctfc; 
What we have lost iu hours swept idly by; 
What we have spent in follies all too dear • 
What we have saved in life’s great treasury. 
How much of worldly wisdom we have gaiuod, 
What dear illusions lost, like fleeting breath, 
And for our gold and pearls what roor exchange 
Iu gaining knowledge and in losing faith. 
What notes of promise written in our name 
Have gone to be protested in life’s bank; 
What checks for charity and virtue drawn 
Our souls have never signed but with n blank. 
Alas ! wlitit doublo entries have we made 1 
The world on one side, on the other God; 
Who holds the balance ? can our debts ho paid? 
Where is our stock, aud is its value good ? 
Have we. placed all our winnings in the dust 7 
Put them on Interest in some earthly mine 7 
Or are they high aud safe from moth or rust, 
in human sympathy, in love divine? 
Rich.not. in the abundance that we have. 
The year’s full horn is emptied at our door: 
The soul hath other merchandise to save— 
’Tis what we are that maketh rich or poor. 
The deeds that we have done with vaulting pride 
U oping that some large interest they would pay, 
May count for nothing on the other side 
Where angels keep the books a different way. 
Our souls dreatn Journeying wander down the past 
To that dim forever that lies far behind: 
The Burn of shine and shadow that is cast 
Counts more than all the present wealth we And. 
Memory, the treaBUro of our golden dreams, 
At the old fireside ever keeps us room. 
Tired of the tumult of life’s busy schemes. 
Our pilgrim hearts to-night are going home. 
What muffled echoes fall across our path, 
Footsteps of loved ones that are caught away! 
What have we lost In this time-e.ircling tide! 
What have they gained iu that Eternity 7 
And do they give good gifts to those they love, 
These JingelB over leaning from the skies 7 
Have they a New Year on the bights above 7 
What are they doing now in Paradise 7 
What have we gained by all that we have lost 7 
Patience and strength to bear anew the strife; 
The soul climbs upward only by the ci'Oss. 
And sorrow in the crowning crown of life. 
Our future lies close folded on the now: 
Each precious moment that we throw away. 
Like wanton spendthrifts of our golden sands 
Is heavy with eternal destiny. 
In God’s arithmetic no cipher’s lost. 
Each bears a stamp of value that’s divine. 
O may our souls at last be found atjiar 
With earth's great duties and with heaven’s 
design. 
And may the page of life whereon we write, 
However blotted and with tears made dim, 
Be ’lumiued ever by the falling light 
Reflected from the Star uf Bethlehem. 
-- 
A SUMMER VACATION. 
(Continued from page 221.) 
“It may be so. But, my girl, take an old friend’s 
advice, and do not be hurried luto matrimony." 
“I promised readily I would not, ror I had 
already made up my mind not to marry for some¬ 
time at least. 
“ Captain Chesaey pleaded long and often that 
I would change my decision; but 1 remained firm, 
nor would I allow aDy of his entreaties or argu¬ 
ments to shake me In the least. 
“ Several months passed, but as the tune went 
on my lover grow restless, haggard and distressed. 
Indeed, so marked was his uneasiness that I could 
not help adverting to it. 
“ Guy,’’ l said, “let us be frank with each other. 
You are In soma great trouble; tell me what it Is; 
surely I nave a right to know what causes you 
such evident distress of mind?" 
“ But he gave me only an evasive answer and 
tried to change the conversation. 
“ You may welL feel a certain amount of delicacy 
upon the subject,”—he started and looked at me 
somewhat wlluly as I said this—“and I cau easily 
understand such would be the case. Yet, as I said, 
let us be frank with each other. Do not be offended 
with me for what I am golug to say, but, Guy dear, 
you are pressed for money. There, that Is the 
simple truth; and now the worst is over, it Is so, 
is It not?” 
“ lie replied by an evident effort: 
“ I am ashamed to confess It, hut It is true—quite 
true. No one knows vvnat 1 have suffered lor my 
Indiscretion. My father cannot, or will not, lend 
me any assistance, and I am now In serious dif¬ 
ficulties.” 
“He wa3 much overcome as he spoke, and 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
clasped his hands over his face: but I pulled them 
away with gentle force, and stroking his hair back 
from his troubled brow, said:” 
“ * I am so glad, Guy, that we have bad this 
understanding with each other; we shall both be 
happier forth No\v, lu the first place you must 
give me your promise to be most obedient; to be 
governed by me In this affair; to do without argu¬ 
ment or scruple all that I advise.’ 
‘“You are a good girl,’he said; ‘too good for 
me. I am not worthy of you!’ 
“‘I will not hear you say that—nor will I let 
others say that you were In momentary difficulties 
when you married me. Now here Is what I want 
you to do, and remember you have promised be¬ 
forehand to execute my wishes. You must let me 
free you from these liabilities V 
“ lie endeavored to protest—to Interrupt; but I 
went on. 
“ * I wish to do It,’ I said, * In a manner that will 
be the least painful and embarrassing to both of 
us. I do not wish to know the sum you owe, nor 
even the names of those to whom It la due, nor 
the circumstances under which the debts were 
contracted. Keep that a secret from me. see, 
here is a check, duly dated and signed, and made 
payable to your o-der; but as you perceive, the 
amount Is left a blank. Y r ou see now what I wish 
you to do. Take this blank check as a free gift 
from me, fill it up with such an amount as will 
free you entirely from your difficulties, do not 
tell me the sum—I do not wish ever to know it; 
but I have given special instructions to the banker 
to honor this draft. Take It, Guy, to oblige me, 
and let me have the happiness of knowing that 
I have set you free! And when you can tell me 
that no one has any Claim upon your purse, then I 
shall be ready to he your wife.” 
“I will not attempt to repeat his thanks—his 
protestations of gratitude aud affection. But 
when he accepted the check 1 felt a glow of joy lo 
find that 1 had ll lu my power to free him from a 
disgraceful thraldom I” 
Miss Llnwood paused. The sun had set, and a 
chill wind was blowing from the sea. 
I saw that her recital had affected her deeply; 
yet that there was something of a painful charac¬ 
ter to come was evident. 
“I do not think It Is safe for you to sit here any 
longer,” I said. “ Let me recommend you to go 
back to Melcombe Cottage; you can finish your 
story at another time.” 
‘•It is chilly,” she said, rising to her feet. “I 
will follow your advice; In fact, I will return at, 
once, hut I will finish what I have to tell you 
during our walk; the narrative Is nearly over.” 
But seeing that In spite of herself she was trem¬ 
bling violently, I oflered her my arm. 
She thanked me In her sweet way as she availed 
herself of the support. Ilow her touch thrilled 
me—thrilled me, although any wild dream that I 
may have had about making her my wife seemed 
farther from a realization than ever—for h£d Bho 
not acknowledged her love tor another 1 
“Well, doctor I” she resumed with a sigh, “I 
have told you that 1 gave him the check, and that 
I looked upon Him as a free man.” 
“ What faith you must have had In him I” I 
ejaculated with a Jealous pang. 
“ .And what Is love without faith ?” 
I did not attempt to reply, but asked Instead: 
“Had you at this time any Ilea of the amount 
of Captain Chesney 'a liabilities ?” 
“Only a vague notion. 1 felt, however, that 
the sum could not excel a few thousand pounds.” 
“Afewthousaudpounds!” 1 repeated, aghast, 
for the calmness with which she spoke amazed 
me;“andyou were prepared to give up such a 
sum?” 
“ You forget 1 told youl was an heiress.” 
“Yes, hut— 
“Waltamoment, 1 must now explain that my 
father had left comparatively little real estate—I 
mean landed property; nearly all his money was 
embarked in various undertakings, such as bank 
and railway shares. These investment, for the 
moat part, returned a high rate of Interest, hut 
Involved a considerable amount of trouble for a 
girl. 
“ some time before the occurence of these events 
It so fell out that a very large residential property 
came into market. It was one of those stately 
homes for which England Is so famous. 
“It was a place I knew well and admired 
greatly. It was here I felt that I could make a 
home and live in perfect happiness. 
“ My father’s solicitor effected the purchase and 
the deposit was duly paid. Then he commenced 
to sell out from the various companies, and the 
money realized was from time to time paid Into 
the bankers. 
“ Knowing that there was a large balance stand¬ 
ing In my name made me think of this plan for 
relieving Captain Chesney. I considered the 
whole thing could be done and no one be any the 
wiser. 
“It was not long alter his departure that I was 
Informed that someone from the bankers’ desired 
to see me on urgent business. 
“ 4 Do you wish to speak about a check present¬ 
ed by Captain Chesney V I asked. 
“ 1 Yes, miss, it has been filled up for a large 
sum, and we thought- ’ 
'“It Is quite correct,’! answered, for I felt a 
good deal vexed that the captalnshould have been 
put, to the ahnoyanco ol having the draft ques¬ 
tioned in any way. ‘ 1 sent notice to the hank that 
such a check would be produced.’ 
“ ‘ But the amount Is so large that-’ 
* n la quite correct; you have my authority to 
pay It at once.’ 
“ The clerk bowed and withdrew. As lor my¬ 
self, l had perfect faith in my lover’s honor— 
indeed, the suspicion that he would wrong me, or 
betray my coulldence, never once entered my 
heart; and Instead of feeling any regret at the 
largeness of the sum required to discharge his 
debts, 1 was instead deeply thankful 1 had the 
means of doing him so great a service.—To be con¬ 
tinued. 
SKETCHES OF GERMAN LIFE. 
BERTHA A. WINKLER. 
Winter Scenes. 
Snow, snow everywhere; on the roofs, in the 
streets, In the air and, one could almost say, over 
the hearts of the people, so quiet and gray, and 
wintry look the races of the persons who noise¬ 
lessly glide past us with heavy loads of fagots on 
their hacks. Indeed, this white ley mantle seems 
to have covered the genial smile, as well as the 
once blooming fields. A dull, oppressive silence 
prevails tn the deserted streets; one listens In 
vain to catch the merry ring of sleigh-bells, or the 
huzzar of boys sleighing down the hill. A few old 
sleds loaded with wood and drawn by a team ot 
sleepy oxen take the place of the former, and the 
latter, though they pour wildly enough from the 
school-house and a few snow balls do fly In the 
air, scatter In the direction of their respective 
homes and are soon lost out of sight. All Is silent 
as before. 
Now a few of them reappear, with odd-looking 
wicker-baskets suspended on straps from their 
shoulders. Well forLlfled against hunger with 
huge slices of black bread, they start for the forest 
In search of fire-wood. .lust how this Is obtained 
In forests which have long been stripped ot every 
available shrub, and which every autumn Is even 
raked of Its dead leaves lor staple-purposes, our 
readers, viewing their own broad forests full of 
dead-wood, will find hard to answer. But let us 
follow them briskly wading through the snow 
towards the forest where they separate, and, In 
different directions, begin iheir search for cones 
and dry twigs among the bleak, bare branches 
overhead. One with practiced eye soon ferrets 
out the tree worth climbing, and in the Ice and 
snow be scrambles to ihe very topmost branch, 
shaking down the fir-cones or breaking the brittle 
twigs which yield to his touch. Very often, after 
a fruitless search, or In disagreeable weather, 
some green twigs are smuggled in his bundle, and 
then a sharp look-out has to be kept for the 
Forester who sometimes makes a very unexpected 
appearance and, examining the bundle, places a 
fine upon the green twigs, or takes the trembling 
culprit for a few days to the village-prison on 
bread and water for violating forest laws. 
The boys, however, contrive to elude him by 
trickery or, In last extremes, make good their es¬ 
cape by a sharp run with the Forester's dog at 
their heels. Though dreaded and disliked by the 
whole peasantry, ihese jouthiul Teutons often 
make game of him and have no end of fun at his 
expense But, to timid children and poor women 
the sight of the Forester's green-braided coat, his 
dog, and gun Is absolutely terrifying, though that 
does not hinder them trom taking advantage of 
his absence whenever the opportunity presents 
Itself. This does not surprise us, however, when 
we consider the bitter necessity which compels 
them to such measures. With them, fife is a ques¬ 
tion of existence, not of commi ts or enjoyments. 
It Is not gain, but life, which depends upon their 
labors. And with many such, alltc Is merely a 
prolongation of misery and hardships, In summer 
a struggle for bread, in winter a struggle for fueL 
What we have said to the poorest class is also 
applicable, though somewhat modified, to the 
more well-conditioned peasantry. The silence 
and the gloom of winter rests upon all. Every¬ 
where we see the same grave, and almost joyless 
faces. Life to these people, Is something, Infi¬ 
nitely earnest at this season; the rush of spring 
and summer and the merry festivals ot harvest 
are past, these no longer occupy their mind to 
the exclusion of all else. Perceptive faculties ex¬ 
pand as the pressure of Immediate necessity gives 
way, and, however bright, and Joyous those hal¬ 
cyon days of summer may have seemed, life In 
winter and comparative leisure assumes Its real 
and serious aspect. Then they have time to re¬ 
flect, to plan, to think. Then the droll easy¬ 
going peasant who Uvea in the crude simplicity 
of his forefathers, is the modern, Intelligent, 
clearsighted man who observes public events 
with much more Interest than the authorities 
would he pleased with. Who sees, and knows, 
and judges and condemns, though himself un¬ 
known and unseen In his valley-village. Whose 
sacred watchword Instead of “ King and aovenu- 
went” which the schoolmaster drills into the hoy; 
the pastor preaches to the youth; and the magis¬ 
trate thunders at the man, Is “ Liberty and Futh~ 
e riana" and who would tain utter hard, Indignant 
words against oppression and extortion If he dared; 
hut a half-dozen government officials in the ca¬ 
pacity of field-guards and forest-guards are ready 
to communicate the slightest expression of disap¬ 
proval at head-quarters and the discontented 
party would soon be given to understand, In no 
gentle terms, that the government does the think¬ 
ing and the peasant the laboring. If parents show 
him the virtue of silence, government teaches him 
the necessity of It. 
To a casual observer the peasants appear timid, 
and simple-minded. But this Is j ust what govern¬ 
ment wants. It trains them Into “unconditional 
obedience ” and allows them Just enough responsi¬ 
bility, and freedom of action to be self and state 
supporting; or, tn other words, to enable him to 
worm himself through life upon soli. Our obser¬ 
vations have resulted In quite a different opinion 
of him. We know that with all his simple-mind¬ 
edness, which, however, is more of good-nature 
than anything else, he knows the hand of the op¬ 
pressor. Dls eyes are wide open when the tax- 
hook is placed before him. A conversation we 
overheard may serve to show that they are not 
quite as stupid as they’ seem: 
During our Interview with the village magis¬ 
trate, a peasant timidly entered and with his hat 
In one hand and the door-handle In the other as If 
ready to make his escape In case of danger, he 
requested the Herr bcuult-hels to furnish him 
with the necessary papers for emigration. “ But 
why do you want to leave the country, Johannes ?” 
inquired the SchulBhela. “ Well,” was the reply, 
1 have a book at home, and whenever I look In It 1 
want to go and settle in America," The Schult- 
hels opened his eyes to think that one of Ms 
Bauers would read such a book. And, “ what is 
the book; who gave It, to you ?” he snarled, In the 
man’s face. Hem,” replied the peasant; a] little 
non-plussed at bis manner, “Its my tax-book and 
the Herr Schult-bels, himself, gave It. to me.” I 
need not add that he obtained his emigration 
papers without further delay. 
Knowing the condition of affairs, we are not 
surprised at the many serlous-tblnklng faces that 
we meet with now. This unusually severe winter 
has brought increased want to many and makes 
strict economy a necessity tor all. Tho enormous 
expense ot a standing army are levied upon the 
people, while the flowers ot Germany, the support 
of many aged parents are Idling their time away 
In barracks. There Is not much said In Germany 
but a great deal seen, and felt, and reflected In 
their faces. Those mild, blue eyes with their 
timid, furtive glances tell tales which lips have 
never breathed. Their first-horn, their all Is 
taken from them to maintain the power, the 
greatness and lustre of Imperial Germany. 
MAGAZINES FOR APRIL. 
Scribner for April closes the XTXth volume of 
tills Magazine, which will be ten years old in No¬ 
vember. The current number contains a large 
variety notwithstanding the space given to the 
serials,Including Mr. Roe’s “Success with Small 
Fruits;"’ Mr. Cable's “Grandlsstmes;” Mr. Schuy¬ 
ler's “ Peter the Greatthe third ot the four 
parts of “Louisiana” shows an admirable phase 
of Mrs. Burnett’s genius, the scenes between 
Louisiana and her father being among the most 
touching passages ot her writing. 
Single papers ot popular Interest are not want¬ 
ing in this number. “The Growth of Wood-cut 
Printing,” by Mr. Theodore L. De Vinne, the 
printer of Scribner, deals with Early Methods on 
the Hand-Press. “The Orchestra or To-day,” by 
Mr. Sidney Lanier is descriptive of tho differences 
of construction of the best-known musical instru¬ 
ments. The difficulties of counting time and of 
directing an orchestra, and the desirability ot en¬ 
couraging women to devote themselves to this 
department of music, are Incidentally discussed. 
“ Eighty Miles In Indiana Caverns,” Ls an accou nt 
by Mr. H. c. ilovey, of explorations in Albert's and 
Wyandot Caves; “Rocky Mountain Mules,” by 
Mr. Ernest Ingersoll, is an Illustrated paper of fun 
and adventure, not without practical Information 
for those who are Westward inclined. An Inter¬ 
esting anecdotal biography of Jules Michelet, the 
historian, ls contributed by Mr. J. D. Osborne ; a 
short story by Mrs. Julia Scbayer Is entitled “A 
Summer’s Diversion.” The Poetry of the number 
includes a narrative poem. “ Fra Luigi's Mar¬ 
riage," by “H, H.;” “ The Tornado." by Charles 
de [Car, and poems by Dora Read Goodale and 
Violet Hunt, the latter being an English girl of 
seventeen, who ls thought, by famous English 
poets, to hare very decided poetic genius. This ls 
her first published poem. 
’The departments, though not quite so full as 
usual, have a number ot features, Including Doctor 
Holland's “ Lay Hermon for Easter.” Mr J. Watts 
de l’eyster writes about “ The First Breech-loading 
Rifle," ‘-operas for Amateurs ’ are treated of In 
“ Home and Society." To “ Brlc-a-Brac" Mr. W. 
J. Linton, the engraver, contributes a modern Idyl 
in the stylo of a distinguished poet, eniltled “The 
Princes' Moses," and apropos ox the supposed tat¬ 
tooing ot the sons of t he Prince of Wales. 
8t. Nicholas.— Opens with an Illustrated ac¬ 
count ot a boy’s “Adventure on an KggVar,”ln 
rescuing his baby sister from an eagle. There are 
five other snort stories, all Illustrated. There 
Is, also, an illustrated account of the exciting Mex¬ 
ican and Cuban game of “Kite-Cutting," besides 
a description, with six pictures Of the beautiful 
"Dead city,” Pompeii, and a story, with full page 
Illustration, ot how they used to celebrate ‘Easter 
In Home.” The frontispiece, “A Burial at Sea," 
ls an engraving on wood, arter the picture by 
Henry Bacon,—the painting which attracted at¬ 
tention tn last, year’s Parts salon Miss Alcott’s 
serial, “ Jack and Jill,” takes lt.s boys through an 
exciting debate, and Its girls Into a grand tableau; 
and Mr. Stoddard's “Among the Lakes” comes to 
a dose wit U a long installment, lull ot run and move¬ 
ment. Health's other poems, there we: a quaint 
two-part dialogue, for girls; a stirring ballad about 
“sc. George and the Dragon;” and a lullaby by 
Mary Mapes Dodge, sot to music by Hubert P. 
Mam. 'ihe pages set apart toe very young readers 
and for the departments— 1 “ Jaek-in-tke-Puiplt.” 
*• Letter-Box," and “ Kiddie-Box,”—are lull of 
novel and amusing Items. 
The Domestic Monthly —The Issue of this fa¬ 
vorite magazine la Interesting to those prepar¬ 
ing for the opening season. The spring styles are 
well defined, and as a rule simple. Even the more 
elaborate designs owe their apparent richness 
more to combinations of material than to any 
technical peculiarities beyond the skill of ama¬ 
teurs. These conditions are favorable for dress¬ 
making at home. The frontispiece of the present 
number presents a street costume which abounds 
In suggestions for the ingenious, as it may be 
made with one colur and one material, with very 
little trimming, or with the blended effect ot 
different materials and colors. Among the other 
Illustrations will be found much that is new and 
tasteful. Basque designs, evening aud reception 
drosses, polonaises, overskirts, wraps, coats and 
dolmans are shown In great variety, with special 
costumes for all occasions. 
The Literary Department affords, as usual, a 
caret nil.v selected range of contributions, from the 
best authors. _ 
Good Com i’Any has an account by Charles Dud¬ 
ley Warner or a 24 hour expedition by the well- 
kuoiv n Adirondack guide, and himself, over an 
Adirondack mountain near Keene Flats. The 
stories Include a tale of the South Pacific by Ed¬ 
ward Bellamy, and Through a Needles Eye, by 
Katharine Carrington. The sketches will be par¬ 
ticularly enjoyable to lovers of nature. Geo. M. 
Towle sketches John Blight.; and Airs. Wager- 
Flsher tells of Ernest Kenan, author of the well- 
known Life ot Christ. The oLher articles Include 
Wanted, liy Mrs. Edward Ashley Walker; The 
Defense Of Criminals ; Borne Frontier Art; be¬ 
sides poems redolent or sprlug, entitled Fairfield's 
Brook. Tokens, and alder blossoms. The editor 
has something to say about au- Ruskln, takes up 
the cudgels in behalf of a little child s poem, by 
Tennyson, and gives other articles and also book 
revh ws This number opens a new volume of 
Good Company, which is published at |J a yew, In 
BpringllelQ, Muss. 
