FAIR NO 
597 
THE'RURAl. NEW-YORKER. 
their heads to the soles of their feet. ” almost, lit¬ 
erally speaking-. The {lowers scarcely rival them 
in plcturesqueness. When a lady Is walking 
through a field filled with hlossom3 It Is with diffi¬ 
culty that the eye la able to make the distinction. 
Where Is her shadow In the picture ? 
Fin. 300.—WATCH STAND EMT.ROIDBRY, 
FIG. SOL—DETAIL OF WATCn STAND. 
This trifle for a bazar la made ornamental by 
the addition ot embroidery. The stand la of black 
wood and the embroidery Is worked on black vel¬ 
vet in three shades of gold silk. The above detail 
gives a clear Idea of the needle-work portion of 
Its construction. 
FIG. 299.—DOIf.V FOK CAKE OR BREAD-BASKETS. 
The dolly Is of art canvas, and measures ten In¬ 
ches square; It Is dlvb’ed Into four squares by an 
Insertion of drawn threads. The squares are orna¬ 
mented with a design worked m cross-stitch, with 
marking filoselle of one or two colors. The dolly 
la edged with torchon lace. 
fig. 29T.—fichu. 
The fichu here represented Is of pale mauve 
foulard, dotted with violet aud edged with lace. 
It Is not necessary to follow the above color and 
material; any soft silk or lace entire may bo used 
In the making of this popular adornment. 
Half an hour slipped by without Mattie Lester’s 
solitude being disturbed; the bright slender needle 
slid steadily through the well-worn socks and 
stockings, pair after pair was placed on the 
table, and the pile In the basket was perceptibly 
decreasing, and an hour had gone by, when there 
came the sound of a light, quick footstep on the 
marble floor of the hall; a figure bright with 
imaginable device for spending the few thou¬ 
sands left him by hla father. He had gambled, 
betted and kept race-horses, and married a ivoman 
without a shilling, which last was, perhaps, the 
only worthy action ot hla whole career, for 
Martha Daton was good and beautiful: and 
although she died three or four years before her 
husband, she had managed to inculcate Into her 
TO THE FAIR 
ANNIE I,. JACK. 
Why, where are yon going to now. 
With William, and Robert, and Jim, 
With wife and baby all dressed in their best 
And old Dobbin in holiday trim ? 
You never need aak, neighbor Plod, 
You anrel y nraet be well aware 
That this is the farmer’s gala day, 
We are off to the county fair. 
To the fair l Well, some folks can play 
'While otherB are forced to work; 
/ have some late oats to harvest yet 
And cannot afford to shirk. 
True, your life is bat'd, neighbor Plod, 
Since the boys have all gouo away; 
Had Tom stayed at home when the oats were sown 
They’d have been in the barn to-day. 
•Tls a pity for boys and girls 
When the city’s alluring din, 
Can charm them away from the dear old home 
For the gold they are hoping to win. 
There’s health, peace, and wealth, on the farm, 
And with ours no life can eompare; 
But young folks and old need holiday whiles 
So you see we aro off—to the fair. 
INMATES OE LESTER HALL, 
How He Has Jleen Beared. 
I dined not long ago with a physician’s family 
and as 1 was an unexpected guest, the dinner was 
what was regularly served on Tuesdays, boil¬ 
ed com beet and cabbage, and potatoes, with 
relishes, tea and dessert. The dinner was 
served at half past six o’clock and the four chil¬ 
dren around the dinner table were between the 
ages of three and ten yeare. They dined on pre¬ 
cisely what their elders did and there was no pro¬ 
test from anybody against their eating whatever 
they wished. Alter their dinner was well swal¬ 
lowed they were put one by one Into a bath, rinsed 
off, rubbed off and put to bed. What their dreams 
were, or how many times they rolled over and 
cried and moaned during the night that followed 
is not a matter of record. Perhaps they slept 
like so many "tops” and were none the worse 
for their fare. Indeed, unless t hey were children 
of such extraordinary stomach power, we should 
require a census tor the decrease of the population 
for where one child Is reared from birth In an In¬ 
telligent manner, there are fifty that are not. If 
parents would only act as Intelligently as they 
know, there would be Jess cause for complaint. 
It Is questionable if any woman, unless she has 
been especially educated tor the work, is fit' In 
judgment and discretion to he the best 3ort of a 
mother before she la twenty-eight or thirty years 
CHAPTER I. 
“ Barton, have you seen Miss Cecil?” 
“Yes ma’am.” 
“Where t8 she?" 
“Somewhere between this and the village, ma’am. 
She came luto the stable half an hour ago to have 
the mare saddled, and off she went. Took the 
fence like a bird. Miss Mattie 1" the speaker went 
on, excitedly. “ My word, but she Is one to ride, 
Is Miss Cecil 1” 
And the old servant returned to his gardening 
with a shake ot hl3 head, muttering to himself as 
he trimmed the bed of geraniums on which he 
was employed, the gleam of excitement dying out 
of his kindly old eyes. 
“Is she alone, Barton, or Is my brother with her?” 
said Mias Lester, shading her eyes from the sun¬ 
shine, as she stood on the broad stone steps lead¬ 
ing up to the heavily-studded hall-door of Lester 
Hall, a mansion which at one time had been one 
of the finest, but which now was faat falling Into 
ruin for want ot means to repair the Inroads of tune. 
<i miss Cecil Is alore, ma’am," answered Barton, 
raising hla head again and touching his otd straw 
j U i, i. respectfully- ne had been In the family since 
hlscbildhood, had known the last head In hla days 
of prosperity and reckless prodigality, and he had 
not merely a proper hut an exaggerated tdea ot 
what was due to them. «* The young master has 
gone away over the meadows afoot.” 
youth and happiness appeared at the door of the 
carved screen, and Mattie lifted her face with a 
smile to greet her sister. 
“ Well, Cecil, and wnere have you been 7 " she 
said, “ Over hedges and ditches again as usual?” 
“Not exactly. I have been Into the village, 
Mattie.” 
There was not the slightest, resemblance be¬ 
tween the two sisters, although, even at fifteen, 
Cecil’s beauty bid fair to equal her sister’s. 
There was nothing pathetic—nothing Madonna¬ 
like In the young girl; she seemed full of life, 
and health, and animation, ner complexion was 
rich and glowing; her eyes, large, brilliant, and 
in color of a dark hazel, were shaded by long dark 
lashes, many shades darker than her chestnut 
hair; her mouth was beautifully shaped, but the 
Ups had a proud expression, set and resolute. She 
wore a riding habit of aoarse dark blue serge, and 
a rtding-cap to match of home manufacture sat 
lightly on her clustering hair; and as she came 
within the screen, she was tapping the skirt of 
her rldlng-hablt lightly with the slender whip she 
held.—[To be continued. 
children, more especially Into the two Uttle girls, 
whose education was her sole charge, high and 
noble principles for their future conduct, prin¬ 
ciples of unswerving truth and persistence In the 
path of duty, which had been quite omitted by 
her nobly-born predecessors. 
Reginald Lester’s death left his children—one 
hoy, Reginald, or Rex, as he was generally called, 
and two girls. Martha and Cecil—not only father¬ 
less, but well-nigh penniless; for three hundred 
a-year will not go far in supporting an old family 
name. But they had no rent to pay, and the 
household had dwindled down to old Barton and 
his daughter Fanny, who were steadfast In thetr 
attachment to the family, and dung to their di¬ 
minished fortunes. 
The young people Uved quietly and within thetr 
means, for Martha Lester was at the head of the 
finances, and she had Inherited from her mother 
a wholesome horror of difficulties, while all that 
It was possible to dispose ot, or sell, or mortgage 
had been sacrificed already, so that, when the 
position was faced at Reginald Lester’s death, his 
children knew that it behoved them to ho careful. 
Unfortunately, Rex Lester had been brought’up 
to no profession, and had not sufficient energy to 
strike out a path for himself, so that he had noth¬ 
ing to do but idle about the estate, doing a little 
farming, perhaps, now and then, and keeping the 
larder well supplied with game during the shoot¬ 
ing season. 
It was anything but an unhappy lift, that led by 
these young people, although, as 1 have said, a 
quiet one. Rex had his gun and his horse; Mattie 
had her housekeeping and her music. She was 
an admirable musician and poesesso i a superb 
soprano voice; while Cecil had no greater am¬ 
bition than to sit her horse as well as Rex did, 
and to be as happy as the day was long. She was 
the youngest, and at the time my story opens was 
Just fifteen; Mattie was three years older, and 
Uex was approaching his twenty-first birthday. 
A very beautiful hut rather delicate-looking girl 
was Mattie Lester ; and as she re-entered the sol¬ 
emn shadowy hall, and passed behind the carved 
screen which partitioned off a portion ot its vast 
space Into a sitting-room, sne looked a “fitting 
divinity for such a temple.” 
She was about the medium bight, slim and 
straight, with a wonderful mass of pale golden 
hair twisted In heavy colls round her head; her 
features were perfectly regular—her large blue 
eyes, full ot tenderness and sweetness, matching 
toe sweet, tender mouth, about which there was 
something pathetic and sad, caused In all proba¬ 
bility by the loneliness and seclusion ot the fife 
she had led. 
ller dress, simple In the extreme—almost poor, 
perhaps—was dainty, and neat, and tasteful, and 
suited her to perfection; and the sort folds of pale 
blue linen swept after her with as much grace and 
dignity as satin or velvet would have done on a 
less graceful person. 
When she entered the sitting-room, Mattie 
sighed a little, and stood for a moment resting her 
hand upon the table, lost In thought: then shak¬ 
ing off whatever painful feeling oppressed her, she 
sat down, drew a large work-basket towards her, 
and began the homely and prosaic occupation of 
darning stockings But however homely, however 
prosaic her occupation may have been, she made a 
pretty picture as she sat there, and one which 
would have delighted an artist. 
The heavily-carved oaken chair made a fitting 
background for her delicate loveliness; the grace¬ 
ful head with Ua crown ot golden braids bent over 
her work, the slender white hands, the small feet 
crossed on the stool before her, the large wicker- 
basket full of needlework. You aud I have seen 
many similar pictures of ■•Interiors” gentle reader, 
but we never 3aw a fairer one than the one I have 
attempted to describe. 
CONDUCTED BY MISS RAY CLARE. 
MY LADY AND I 
What has my lady that I have not ? 
Wealth and station and power, 
A mansion that over-shadows my cot 
As a great tree shadows n flower. 
Splendid coaches and high-bred steeds, 
Statues and paintings rare; 
Whatever she wishes, or craves or needs, 
8he has but to speak—it is there. 
Bnsts and vases frmu foreign lauds, 
All that is bongbt with gold. 
Coiner,at the wave of my lady’s hands. 
Like a touch of the lamp of old, 
Royal Jewels and webs of lace, 
Like cunningeet works of frost, 
Sho pleases her fancy and salts her taste. 
With never a thought of cost. 
But what, havo I that she has not ? 
Oh! what she cannot buy— 
Lovo to brighten my lowly lot, 
Love, aud a love-lit eye. 
Some one who comes when the night falls down, 
Aud brings bock glee and luirth. 
Who shuts in the homo, and shuts out the town, 
And sits with me by tho hearth. 
Borne one who lighteus the labor load, 
Who makes misfortune vain, 
And the loveliest baby that ever crowed 
And tapped on the window-pane. 
Ah ! my lady of royal mien. 
You may ride In your carriage fine, 
But I am prouder, for I am queen. 
Crowned by a lovo divine. 
FIG. 291. 
Miss Lester’s beautiful face clouded slightly as 
she turned Into the house again, leaving the bright 
sunshine and sweet fresh air, and going Into the 
shade and gloom of the grand old entrance-hall, 
which was the favorite sitting-room of the pres¬ 
ent representative of the Lester family—a family 
which had passed Its zenith of prosperty over a 
century ago, and had been going steadily down 
hill ever since, until “ruined” was the only term 
which could correctly he applied loll.. 
Lester IUU was now halt In-ruins, a mass ot 
crumbling alone, ivy-covered and moss-grown, 
with quaint round towers dating back to the 
.Saxon period of our history, and oriel windows 
and quaint peaks of the Elizabethan style af arch¬ 
itecture. Birds had built their nests In t he chim¬ 
neys ; Ivy and holly were mingling In the cleft of 
the walls; over the gTeat hall-door the family 
coat-of-arms and motto, carved in stone, were 
still legible through the leaves of the Yirglnla- 
creeper whloh clustered over It In the greatest 
profusion. The terraces were moss-grown and 
uneven, the lawns rough and uncared for. 
“One pair of hands could not do every thing,’> 
poor Barton said ruefully, sometimes, when he 
surveyed the neglected flower-gardens and par¬ 
terres. 
8UU, notwithstanding all Us dilapidation, there 
was a grandeur, a nobility, a picturesque solem¬ 
nity about Lester Hall, which would have been 
Irresistible to the antiquary or the poet. 
Within, the same still calm was distinctly felt. 
It seemed to n few who entered that lorty, vaulted 
hall, with Its black oak carvings and stained 
windows, tho “dim, religious light,” as If no 
meau thought could assail one wltuin Ua walls— 
as It those who lived there must be pure and 
lofty and stainless. And yet, alas! the annals of 
the Lesters proved to the contrary, especially the 
last three or four ot the race, who had been reck¬ 
less and dissipated, wasting their revenues In 
riotous living, and leaving the estate more aud 
more Impoverished at each decease. 
It had been thus in a very great degree with 
the late Reginald Lester, who had tried every 
ot age. Intelligence, and the courage ot one’s 
opinions are worth more than experience In tho 
“long run” and “experience”is often well mixed 
with silly notions and harmful potions as well. 
The healthiest and happiest child I know, as well 
as being an extremely beautiful one, is at the time 
of this writing a Uttle more than three years of 
age, and as ills training has been of an unusual 
character, I think It worth while to tell the story 
of the little fellow's three years of life. To begin 
wltb, the mother Is del leate, the father by no moans 
robust. To them, the birth of a child meant a 
very serious and earnest matter, and how to give 
It the best possible bold upon life was made a mat¬ 
ter of supreme Importance, and, to use an old 
aphorism, the child “was sent to school before 10 
was born.” Regular habits, a select but nutri¬ 
tious diet, and a great deal of out-of-door work 
dowered the hoy with a splendid body, a great 
bngtu-eyed, rosy' child, who has yet to learn the 
meaning of suffering. 
I have heard the mother say In the matter of 
dress, that she asked nobody’s advice or direction, 
and wholly followed the guidance of her own 
judgment. “ I tried to put myself in the little fel¬ 
low’s place ” and think what would he pleasant 
or burdensome to roe If I were small and helpless.” 
So for the first five or six months (tho child was 
born la the spring time) he wore frocks that 
merely covered his feet, and his body was never 
ou any occasion burdened with long or cumber¬ 
some skirts, ne never has had “company” 
frocks nor a “ sash.” Ills clothes, otgood material, 
have ever been of the simplest description, com¬ 
fort and cleanliness being the two things consid¬ 
ered. He wore soft-soled shoes, made by his mother 
until he was a year old Since then, his shoes 
have been generally made to order, and of course 
without heels. He began to walk when ten 
months old. and his always been distinguished 
for his sure footedness, using his feet with great 
freedom and surety. Before he was a week old, 
he began to drink from a cup. When he was 
four months old, his mother began to give 
EXPLANATORY NOTE, 
In this, our special number, we have been 
obliged to encroach upon t he room usually de¬ 
voted to t he Literary and Woman’s departments to 
satisfy the demand tor spaco for other pressing 
matter. Fashions, &c„ excluded. R. C. 
DESCRIPTION OF CUTS 
FIQ. 293.—SHADOW LADY. 
The prevailing style of dress for ladles, presents 
them as floriated pictures from “the crown of 
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j; vi A* %e 
