318 
THE BUBAL NEW-YORKER. 
lng almost to a demand, of the State lunatic asy¬ 
lum, and In accordance with a bill passed by the 
legislature, providing that one of the six trustees 
of the insane hospital shall be a woman. 
Miss Nbttie E. Wacgh. of Peoria, III., In a paper 
she has written for the Educational Weekly, on 
Primary Education, says, “ that love and affection 
In Bcbool are what sunshine and shower are to 
vegetation.” 
-- 
CORRESPONDENTS’ CORNER. 
Dear Miss Clark Please send us a pattern 
for the center ef a Java canvas tidy, through the 
Rural. I have a very nlC6 border taken from 
the “ Rural” and would be grateful fora center. 
I am much Interested In the “ Woman’s Depart¬ 
ment ” and think It a very valuable part or the 
paper to the farmers’ wives. Mrs. H. W. R. 
Beaver Co., Pa. 
Ans.—T he pattern asked for will appear In Issue 
of May 22. k. c. 
f iffrarg gUstfllaiig. 
POOR LITTLE JOE 
Prop yer eyes wide open, Joey, 
For I’ve brought you sum pin’ great. 
Apples 7 No, a long sight better 1 
Don't ye take no iut'restf Wait! 
Flowers, Joe—1 knowed you’d like em— 
Ain't them scrumptious 7 Ain’t them high 7 
Tears, my boy I What's them fur, Joey ? 
There—poor little Joe ’ don't cry ! 
I was skippin’ past a winder, 
Where a bang-up lady sot, 
All amongst a lot of bushes— 
Each one climbin' from a pot: 
Every bush had flowers on it— 
Pretty ? Mebb« not! Oh no! 
Wish you could have seen ’em gTowin'; 
It was such a etunnlo’ show. 
Well. I thought of you, poor feller, 
Lyin’ here so sick an’ weak; 
Neverknowin’ any comfort, 
An’ I puts on a lot o’ cheek. 
“ Mis8U8,"says I,*' If you please, mum, 
Could I ax you for a rose 7 
For my little brother, missus, 
Never seed one, I suppose.” 
Then I told her all about you— 
How 1 bringed you up—poor Joe, 
(Lackin’ women folks to do it). 
Such an imp you was. you know— 
Till yer got that awful tumble, 
Jist as I had broke yer in 
(Hard work, too) to earn yer livin’ 
Blackin' boots for honest tin. 
How that tumble crippled of you, 
So's you couldn't hyper much— 
Joe, it hurted when I seen you 
Fur the first time with yer crutch. 
’* But,” I says, “ he's laid up now, mum, 
’Pears to weaken every day < 
Joe, sho up an' went to cuttiu', 
That’s the how o’ this bokay. 
Say ! It seems to me, ole feller, 
You is quitd yerself to-night; 
Kind o’ chirk, it’s been a f ortnit 
Sence yer eyes has Insen so bright. 
Better I Well I'm glad to hear it! 
Yes, they’re mighty pretty, Joe; 
Smellin’ of 'em’s made yon happy 7 
Well, I thought it would, you know. 
Never seen the country, did you 7 
Flowers growin’ everywhere! 
Sometime when you’r better, Joey, 
Mebbe I kin lake you there. 
Flowers in heaven ! 'SI—I ’s’pose so: 
Don’t know much about it, though; 
Ain't as fly as w’ot I might be 
On them topics, little Joe. 
But I’ve heerd it hinted somewher’s 
That in heaven’B golden gates 
Things i s everlasting cheerful— 
B'lieve that's what the Bible states. 
Likewise, there folks don't get hungry; 
So good people, when they dies, 
Finds themselves well fixed forever— 
Joe, my boy, wot ails yer eyes 7 
Thought they looked a little sing’ler, 
Oh, no 7 Don't you have no fear; 
Heaven was. made fur such as you Is! 
Joe, wot makes you look so queer 7 
Here, wake up! Oh, don’t look that way. 
.Toe, my boy! Hold up your head! 
Here’s your flowers, you dropped ’em, Joey! 
Oh, my God, can Joe be dead 7 
-- 
JOHN ASCOTT’S DAUGHTER, 
BY CHARLES RICHARDS DODGE, 
Author of “ Louise and I.” 
(Continued from page 285.) 
CHAPTER Y. 
HOW IT WAS PONE. 
Twenty-four hours afterwards George Ashton 
found himself upon a railway train, on bis way to 
N-. He sincerely regretted that he had actually 
quarrelled with his father, not so much that It had 
compelled him to leave the paternal roof, as that 
a separation had been brought about under such 
unpleasant circumstances. But then, he reasoned, 
It would have come, sooner or later, for he would 
not, could not renounce the woman he loved, and 
his father’s prejudices were never overcome. 
Arrlv lug at his destination he hastened to the home 
of Mr. De Fondville, presenting himself berore May, 
unexpectedly and almost unannounced. 
“ Well, May,” he commenced, after the usual 
greetings, "you have a nice sort of a man fora 
lover.” 
“ Why how you frighten me George. What has 
happened?” 
“I am an outcast, and worse than that, two 
thousand dollars In debt,” he answered throwing 
hlmsell down upon a sofa near. 
“ An outcast I What do you mean ?” 
“ I’ve no shelter over my head, nor means to 
procure one, as father has shut his door against 
me, and all my money Is In that piece of ground.” 
“ If you mean you nave bought the farm,” she 
said, seating herself beside him upon the sofa, 
“ you certainly have a shelter over your head, II 
there Is a house on It, else wnat will you dc with 
me, when—when we go there to live; but what 
do you mean by your father shutting the door 
upon you 7” 
He has quarrelled with me, because I refuse to 
follow his dictates, not only In the matter of a 
pursuit In life, but In the selection of a wife also.” 
*• Oh, George,” she said, drawing near him, “ he 
does not like me,” 
“ Rather say he is Infatuated with a little good- 
natured, namby-pamby forty-second cousin of 
mine, for whose society I have never cared two 
pins.” 
“ Is that really all?” she asked, earnestly. 
“And that I won't go Into business—” 
“ Does he know—7 ” 
“Yes. I told him last night 1 should be married 
soon, should marry you, and It was the Idea of 
losing Jennie for a daughter-in-law that so en¬ 
raged him. Never mind, I have bought the farm 
with aunt’s money as far as It would go, and given 
Mr. stone a mortgage lor the unpaid balance of 
two thousand dollars." 
“ That Is a large amount of money to owe when 
one Is just making a start In life. Aren’t you 
frightened, George?” 
“No, darling, 1 have done It all for you, and I 
think you will help me pay off the debt by your 
sensible advice and good counsel.” 
“ I am going to do all I can, of course, but I am 
afraid 1 shall not help you much.” 
“ We Bhall see about that,” he answered, press¬ 
ing her hand fondly. 
“ You have not yet told me where the farm Is 
located. Is it far from dear old Maplewood ?” 
“Not very far. There will be considerable to 
do to the place In the way of repairs, for tenants 
are not owners. 
“And every cent of the money Is spent," she 
mused hall audibly. 
“ Oh no, we are not so badly off as that. I have 
reserved a thousand dollars for working capital, 
but I am afraid It will not go far, there will be 
much to buy.” 
“ Don’| buy too much then at the start.” 
“ That Is good advice May, surely.” 
“ is the house furnished 7 ” 
“ Furnished-1 ’’ 
“Yes, furnlsli&l” 
“ Bless my soul ’ I never thought of that. I don’t 
believe there Is a chair on the place,” and George 
looked at his companion with a very curious ex¬ 
pression upon his countenance. 
“And you are to take me there in less than a 
month?” As she said this she laid her hand lov¬ 
ingly upon his shoulder, looking with her great 
brown eyes lull Into his own. 
“What a stupid feUow,” he exclaimed. “I 
never thought of furniture at all. We must have 
some—mustn’t wo 7 ” 
“I rather think we must, ha, ha, ha, it Is too 
funny.' ” 
“ Well, It may appear very funny to you, but I 
fall to see the humor of It.” 
“ And what are we to live upon, pray ? ” she 
went on to ask. 
“ On the farm—we can grow all we can eat, of 
course, so the living Is arranged—” 
“ Of course," she replied, mimicking his tone of 
voice, we can grow broad-cloth coats, and kid 
gloves, and-” 
“ Hang the kid gloves, May, I’m going to work 
now In earnest. I’ve clothes enough lor the pres¬ 
ent—If—If you have,” he added, looking up hasti¬ 
ly. 
“ Ha, ha, ha, you do make me laugh In spite of 
myself," said the little lady merrily, “ though, as 
you say, Its no laughing matter.” 
“ No it Isn’t, especially in regard to that furni¬ 
ture. i’ll have to manage It somehow.” lie arose 
from his seat, took a turn up and down the room, 
and again confronting the girl added, “ Its expen¬ 
sive stuff isn’t it ? ” I never bought any in my 
life." 
“Nor I, but I think 1 can show you a way out 
of the difficulty, If you will let me.” 
“ I am all ears,” he replied, “ although there is 
really nothing mulish in my disposition.” 
“1 have saved a little money since making It my 
home here, and have a tew hundred dollars more 
than I shall need for the present; we can use that. 
Do you think It will be enough 7 ” 
“ Why May, we couldn’t use your money In that 
way. No, no, girl, hold on to what you have, by 
all means.” 
“ Wouldn’t It be mine all the same If I bought 
the furniture 7" she asked. “I think the house 
will he my domain any way, for I can’t help you 
out of doors.” 
“ I don't know; but I would rather enjoy feel¬ 
ing that I owned everything, and you into the 
bargain'” 
“ indeed! Well, now, I regard It that 1 what’s 
your’s is mine, and w bat s mine Is my own,’ but 
really, to be sensible, rather than sentimental, 
you haven’t the money to buy the furniture, and I 
have; we must have some, and there Isn’t any ; 
now what is the most reasonable thing to do 
under the circumstances ? ” 
“ Use your money, t suppose,” he answered. 
“ Then we will select it next week, and after 
getting what we need, and putting by something 
lor contingencies, If there 13 anything left we will 
spend it In books.” 
“ We can’t afford books, May.” 
•• Yes, a few books will be necessary, for we 
shall both be very Inexperienced and do a great 
many foolish things that will take money wemight 
have saved, so I think It Is a good rule to follow to 
endeavor to learn what others have done before 
us, and try to begin where they left off,” 
“ Good argument—but you needn’t be afraid of 
my f aiming as my grandfather did,—he was a 
farmer—Just because he was my grandfather. You 
are a queer little woman, I declare, won’t you take 
the farm for the first year, and employ me at so 
much a day aDd board 7” 
“ You wouldn’t do as I said.” 
“Oh yes, I would,” he answered, playfully. 
“Then you would be the first man that ever put 
Implicit confidence In a woman's say so, you men 
know It all, and you are knowlDg enough to say 
nothing about your mistakes. But you have still 
to tell me where the farm Is located. I believe I 
asked you before If It is near my old home. Is It 
In sight of Maplewood 7” 
“I think you might be able to see Maplewood 
from the lop qf the house,'’ he answered, looking 
away In an opposite direction. 
How many pleasant hours they passed during the 
week that foUowcd, talking over tlielr Immediate 
future, and making arrangements for that great 
event whleh every young man thinks, In his own 
particular case, Is the most wonderful thing that 
ever happened. 
George Ashton was a smart enough young fellow 
-well-informed, and possessed of excellent judg¬ 
ment In most, things—but one of his worst faults 
was a disposition to take things for granted, 
neglecting to look far below the surrace, or to 
weigh carefully all the pros and cons. May had 
seen this trait, In him and she felt It would operate 
seriously against his full success as a farmer, un¬ 
less he should work hard to overcome It. The 
furniture matter was a fair example of bis manner 
of treating a subject. He had been over the farm, 
estimated the repairs that would be needed, fig¬ 
ured carefully upon tools and Implements, and 
made fair aHowances for stock even to the minut¬ 
est particular. A11 this arrayed, be took tor grant¬ 
ed there was nothing further to db done, but to go 
to work when the time came, and trusted tbat all 
would goon swimmingly from the start. Not so 
with the woman he had chosen for his wife. She 
had been reared In a hard school—the school of 
bitter experience, having to depend upon herself 
from early girlhood, she was just the kind of a 
woman George needed for a wife, and It was truly 
a turning point In his career when she gave him 
her promise. But for one thing she would have 
been perfectly happy In the anticipation of coming 
events, and that was George’s quarrel with bis 
father. She could hardly think a man so hard and 
unreasonable, and yet it must be so in this case or 
he would never have shut the door against his 
boy upon so slight a provocation. Could It be 
that George had deceived her? Perhaps Mr. Ash¬ 
ton was displeased with her, theugh she had 
never seen him in her lire. The doubt gave her 
pain, hut she could not bear to hurt the feelings 
of her lover by expressing It, so she kept It to 
herself and only resolved to get at the truth by a 
woman’s tact If possible. 
CHAPTER VI. 
“FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE.” 
Can the reader call to mind a perfect spring 
day, when the air Is soft and balmy and the at¬ 
mosphere Is teeming with new life, when all na¬ 
ture seems filled with an entrancing witchery and 
every blade of grass and swelling bud whispers a 
hope? I have seen such days and their skies arc 
bluest blue and great white banks of sheeny 
clouds float lazily across them. Their forests are 
painted in softest grays, and happy birds are 
twittering their tales of love In every tree. 
A sweeter spring-day could not, have come to 
gladden earth than that upon which George Ash¬ 
ton took his bride to Maplewood, and a sweeter 
bride than May Ascott, George had never seen. 
It was a very quiet wedding, though the De Fond- 
vllle’s did all In their power to make the occa¬ 
sion a joyful one. Mr De Fondville gave away 
the bride, and Blanche, a lair haired girl some 
four years younger than her Irlend, the little 
governess, acted as bridesmaid. No relatives 
were present, as there were none May could call 
near of klu and George's family choose to stay 
away. They were all Invited even to Elbridge 
ABliton, Esq., but he took uo notice ol the uffatr 
whatever. The brothers politely Bent regrets, 
though George hardly expected so great a show 
of civility, for he knew policy Inclined them to 
the opinion of bis lather. 
Jt was a very pleasant little weddbig, so Mrs. 
De Fondville said, and to that kindly woman a 
large share of the credit was due. She had 
grown to love the orphan girl, and to regard 
her almost as one or her own family, and now 
that she was really going out from their pleasant 
home and fireside, she loll a true motherly sor¬ 
row at the parting. It wts the pleasantest home 
May had known since her father’s death, and when 
the farewells and God-spccda had been spoken, 
and the carriage rol led down the broad avenue 
leading to the highway, she felt that she was In¬ 
deed leaving home.” 
A bridal trip other than to the new home had 
not been deemed expedient, George remarking 
grimly that affairs on the farm needed ihelr Im¬ 
mediate attention, while May archly suggested 
that perhaps they could’nt afford it. No they 
were going directly to Maplewood, at least that 
was George’s destination, and his wife was going 
to “ the farm” wherever that might, be, for she 
was yet in Ignorance of the surprise that awaited 
her. When the furniture was purchased she had 
expressed a desire to visit the farm and see that 
everything was in proper place, but George had 
dissuaded her, saying that old Mrs. Briggs, a 
former housekeeper of his father’s, had been en¬ 
gaged to put things In order and would have the 
house In readiness to receive them. 
How closely the young wife watched the stations 
aa they neared the town or 8—, and when at 
last their destination was reached, with what 
reelings of mingled Joy and sadness did she again 
behold familiar scenes fraught with tender memo¬ 
ries of other days. And when the dusty town lay 
behind them and ihelr carriage sped along the 
dear old road to the home of her childhood 
how her pulse thrilled with delight. 
MAY IS 
“ Oh, George,” she exclaimed, “ It seems like a 
dream. Do we pass Maplewood on our way to the 
farm ?” 
“ You will see it, darling,’’ was his reply; “but 
It lias changed somewhat slnce;t.he long ago when 
we roamed over Its hills and meadows, a pair of 
careless, happy children.” 
“Weare coming near It," she exclaimed, joy 
fully, “ If I remember rightly, this Is the farm 
Steve Uascall, as father used to call him. Who 
owns Maplewood, George 7” 
“ Yes, this Is the Uascall place, hut • Old Steve 
sold out and went West with his son years ago. 
The present occupant has been married but a 
little while, and there 13 a very romantic story 
connected with the first meeting with his wife.” 
Of course, George told the whole story, spinning 
It out to its utmost length. “ This Is Maplewood,” 
said he at last, as the avenue of trees leading up 
to the house came In view. “ .Shall we drive In, 
May, just for the fun of the thing, the present 
owner Is a friend of mine 7” 
May said nothing, but she held her husband s 
hand tightly as they rode up the old familiar 
drive-way, more shut In than ever by the trees, 
and as the house came in view, the mists gathered 
in her eyes, 
The carriage rolled t,o the doorway, and as It 
stopped In front or the great open porch, at 
George’s command, Mrs. Briggs appeared, dressed 
In her Sunday beat, and addressing “Mr. Ashton,” 
welcomed them most hospitably. 
“Let us go Into the house, May, I think Mrs. 
smith will be glad to see us,” and he put up his 
hands to assist her to alight. 
“ I do not. quite understand this,” she whispered 
“ is it proper for us to make a call here at this 
time?” 
“Come,” said he, taking hold of her hand, 
and In another moment they were on the broad 
door stone. 
“ Walk Into the parlor,” said Mrs Briggs kindly, 
“ I will come to you, Mrs. Ashton, shortly,” and 
she threw wide open the doorway and vanished 
In another direction.” 
May had followed her husband into the pretty 
room as one walking In a dream, but as her eyes 
fell upon the familiar carpet and tbe furniture 
they bad purchased together only a week before, 
she comprehended It all at once, and throwing 
her arms around ner husband’s neck, gave ex¬ 
pression to her Intense feelings In a flood of tears. 
An hour later, as they all sat down to a delicious 
tea prepared by the kindly old lady, Mrs. Ashton 
was Installed mistress of Maplewood, and entered 
upon the duties ol' her office with grace and dig¬ 
nity—To be continued. 
-♦ ♦ ♦- 
MAGAZINES FOR MAY. 
St. Nicholas for May opens with an Important 
“ Talk with Girls and their Mothers," by Washing¬ 
ton Gladden, and contains the first Installment of 
Noah Brook's new serial for boys—a base-ball story 
entitled "The Falrport Nine,” and finely illus¬ 
trated by Redwood. 
Of complete thort stories there are five, all with 
pictures • “ Topsyturvy’s Dream,” a fanciful tale 
by Edgar Fawcett: "The Boy and the Giant,” a 
Bible story retold by Susan Coolldge; "Sally’s 
Soldier,” a Decoration-day story, with pictures by 
Zogbaum; “Two More of the Major’s Blg-talk 
stories.” being a sort of modern Muuohausen ad- 
vontures In the desert of Sahara, with comical and 
spirited Illustrations; and "A Term at the District 
School,” from a girl-scholar'spoint of view. 
There are two Natural History articles: “The 
Story of Llzbeth and the 1 Baby,’ " an account of 
horned lizards, with pictures from lire by F. S. 
Church; and “Curious Facts Concerning Ants,” 
with five Illustrations. 
Louisa M. Alcott’sserial, “Jack and Jill,” de¬ 
scribes how Frank and Gus ran away with a loco¬ 
motive engine, and what fun the boys and girls 
had on Washington s Birthday, with tableaux 
vtvauts, music, and a feast. 
“Oriental Jugglery,” an Illustrated paper, tells 
of some wonderiul tricks and teals by Hindoo jug¬ 
glers. “ A. D. 1095 ” explains, with the aid of pic¬ 
tures, an Interesting piece ol history. “ How to 
Care for the Nick ” Is a practical article, giving 
young folks clear and safe advice concerning nurs¬ 
ing, how to act and what to do in a sick room. 
There are, besides, an out-door poem by Lucy 
Larcom; a humorous piece ou *• Ancient History,” 
by Margaret Vandegrlft, with illustrations by E. 
B. Bensell; some funny pictures by L. Hopkins: 
and two drawings by Addle Ledyard. 
The Departments provide stories and pictures 
for the very little folk, and pictures, items, letters 
and puzzles lor everybody. 
Eclectic Magazine.— This excellent periodical 
Is at hand, and contains, besides its literary attrac¬ 
tions, a fine steel engraved portrait of the vener¬ 
able Dr. Leonard Bacon. The literary contents 
are varied and interesting, comprising the follow¬ 
ing artlees: “copyright," by Mathew Arnold; 
" 1 he Northeast Passage: Narrative of Lieut. Pa- 
lander, Swedish Royal Navy, Commander of the 
Exploring Vessel;” “An Eye-Witness of John 
Kemble and Edmund Kean,” by Theodore Martin; 
“ Yoslilda-ToraJIro," a bit of Japanese Biography; 
“Radlent, Matter,”by D. Pldgeon; “The Bells of 
Lynn,” a poBm; “ Henri Regnault;” “White 
Wings: A Yachting Romance,” by William Black; 
“Greekand Christian Views of Beauty,” by Rev, 
R. St. John Trywltt; “ Chlppersof Flint;” “ Fate, 
or God?" by Paul ll. llayne; “ Mademoiselle de 
Mersac,” a story; “ On the Art of Sketching from 
Nature In Water-Colors,” by Walter Severn; “ Chi¬ 
nese I'roveibs;" “An Old Boat," a poem; a bio¬ 
graphical sketch of Dr. Leonard Bacon (to accom¬ 
pany tbe portrait); aud copious Editorial Depart¬ 
ments on “ Literary Notices,” “Foreign Literary 
Notes,” “Scleuceand Art," and •• Varieties.” 
The American Antiquarian.—Contents The 
Mound Builders. By Stephen D. Feet. Brady’s 
Leap, and Other Facts of Indian History. By J 
