MARCH 22 
4B0 
A. Smith, A. B., LL. M. Washington, Gov¬ 
ernment Printing Office. 
John Saul. Washington City, D. C. De¬ 
scriptive catalogue (104 pages) of new, rare and 
beautiful plants of all kinds. A large colored 
plate of Moss Roses is well worthy of a frame 
and a place in the drawing-room. 
Also a catalogue of Roses. “Sweet violets 
—sweeter than all the roses.” But we prefer. 
roses. The list is a tine one. 
The Production of Swine in the Uni¬ 
ted States, and the Transportation, Con¬ 
sumption. and Exportation of Hog Products, 
with special reference to the Interdiction of 
American Hog Products from France and 
Germany. By Joseph Nirnmo, Jr. Washing¬ 
ton : Government Printing Office. 
Ewald Over. 34 East Georgia Street, In¬ 
dianapolis, Ind.—Illustrated catalogue of all 
kinds of road machinery. It is claimed 
for Burton’s Improved Ditching Plow and 
Grader, that, as a ditcher, it will, with four to 
six horses, make per day 100 rods of ditch 10 
feet wide and two feet deep in the ceuter, 
throwing the earth back from the edge of the 
ditch so that it can be crossed with a farm 
implement or wagoii withoutdanger of break¬ 
ing the banks or obstructing the ditch. As a 
grader, it is claimed that 100 rods of road, 30 
feet from ditch to ditch, can be built in one 
day with from four to six horses, rounding off 
and elevating the center of the road two feet 
from the bottom of the ditch. The machines 
are all illustrated and described. Send to the 
above firm for the catalogue. 
CONDUCTED BV MIS! RAY CLARK. 
SKETCHES OF GERMAN LIFE. 
BERTHA A. ZEDI WINKLER. 
A RURAL WEDDING. 
PART II. 
The giving of the first piece is accompanied 
with the question, asked in a clear, though 
tremulous voice—for what bride could stand 
under the blue eye of heaven, faciug memor¬ 
ies of childhood, school-days, and love’s first 
dawuiug, in the promiscuous gathering, and 
question destiny without emotion and trem¬ 
bling: “ Friend, is the road fairf” “ Fair as 
thy innocence, open t,o life’s vicissitudes, but 
pray, heaven will it, leading to prosperity, 
happiness, and a blessed eternity,” is the re¬ 
ply of the village oracle, as she receives the 
first gift from the bride’s hands and a hush of 
prayerful emotion falls over the long file of 
well-wishers. As one by one receives the 
“ bride-cake” from her trembling hand, the 
conduct and spontaneous expressions of good¬ 
will of each is most suggestive of German 
characteristics, sentiment, superstition and 
naiveness. “The road is fair all through, 
Madela, for I saw the stork this morning leave 
the church-steeple in a straight line,” re-assures 
one given to signs and sounds. “You might 
have a worse groom than Michel, lass; his 
glasses are never chalked at the tavern,” com¬ 
pliments another, ruefully conscious of his 
own shortcomings in that direction. lt Un, 
Madli, mack's guet, vnd C'linte Galt,'' tritely 
enjoins the fatherly bachelor, as he almost 
snatches his cake aud breaks through the 
crowd, heedless of their laughing requests to 
break the cake and find his wedding coin. 
The fortuoe-telliug coin really protruding 
from the next slice, its youthful recipient 
stammers in joyous confusion “that means 
me aud my Marie.” Aud “ my Marie,” fol¬ 
lowing close behind, is the blushing object of 
laughing eyes all around. The couple is 
henceforth booked as owing the people’s next 
bride-cake. 
Nor is the occasion ever without its inci¬ 
dents of moral pathos. Anon come those un¬ 
wedded brides whoso heroes were left upon 
the battlefield of Gravelotte and Mete, to 
wish this bride simply, “times of peace.” 
Then the mother, whose son is among the re¬ 
cruits, searching as eagerly for the tell-tale 
coin as any to read his destiny in a wedding 
or none. Then the school-mate, whose soft 
“Good-by, Madela,” is the bride’s eternal 
farewell to girlhood’s joys aud childhood’s in¬ 
nocence. Then the poor waif saying her 
“something” in a shy, simple "Grass Gott" 
(God greet thee); or the superstitious invalid 
whose faith in the healing purifying power of 
a virgin’s touch, pleads for it in i his last hour 
of her virginity until tears break over the 
shining face, and she gives this final boon with 
sobs of regretful farewell to dim dreams, vague 
aspirations higher and holier, which no human 
being has ever fully realized and yetall women 
have felt more or less. Thus woman’s liner or¬ 
ganization, that Inherent modesty uud refine¬ 
ment which takes away from love the gross¬ 
es, of its passion, will over reveal itself. In 
spite of narrow limits which check develop¬ 
ment, and harsh circumstances which bruise 
and blunt the spirit; and rude employments 
which harden the exterior; at the altar she is 
the blushing, reluctant, trembling woman 
still. At the fireside she is the soothing, re- 
strainiug, refining influence still, A little worn 
and commonplace perhaps, a little harsh and 
rugged from long wearing the double harness 
of the household and the field, but still a wo¬ 
man, sweet andgentle in her ministry of love; 
a Madonna, glorified in her mother joy and 
solicitude; a human divinity, worthy to be the 
seeress and priestess that she was to the an¬ 
cient Germans. Shame! therefore, upon the 
modera German egoism that chains the na¬ 
tion’s mothers to slavish drudgery that it may 
keep the bone and sinew of their sons to guard 
its imperial prerogative! Shame! upon Ger¬ 
many’s eloquent poets so mute in womau’s 
praise? Shame upon her deep philosophers, 
so blind to woman’s worth aud destiny! And 
ruin to every achievement made with man s 
prerogatives. For progress that strides along 
on women’s necks will sooner or later totter 
on its writhing foundation. 
We have soliloquized while the people dis¬ 
persed to take posession of the best seats in 
the church, aud the bridal party moved slowly 
along the ‘ 'fair, open road,” which, represent¬ 
ing in miniature her future life path, is care¬ 
fully cleared of every obstacle or unsightli¬ 
ness by certain youthful individuals, who will 
presently come in for their reward. Within 
the church the marriage ceremony is per¬ 
formed with the usual rites. The custom of 
kissing the bride, however, is not in vogue. 
Now, on the homeward way, the village mis¬ 
chiefs are going to collect their wages for 
cleaning the road, and, if the bridegroom hap¬ 
pens to be a “foreigner,” i. tv, if lie belongs to 
another village, have some fun besides. Then 
the game is generally postponed until after 
the one or two days’ feasting is over, when 
the same train that accompanied him to 
church, escorts the couple to the outskirts of 
their village. Now every 50 paces along the 
village road a rope is stretched across by two 
youthful sentinels armed with brooms, who 
demand passage money from the groom. This 
given, be receives the password for the next 
rope-post, where, of course, he must pay 
again to get the password for the next, and 
so on till he reaches the outskirts, where a 
wagon awaits the couple. But by the time 
the parting salutations are given, and he is 
read3' to start with his precious load, the 
whole regiment of broom-armed sentinels, 
making good use of their time, have, in mili¬ 
tary parlance, made a “forced march,’’ and 
again stationed themselves ahead of him on 
the highway. They are determined to let 
the bride go only at a heavy premium. And 
because custom does not allow a demand of 
“ passage money” more thau once, this ingen¬ 
ious expedient is resorted to. Two sentinels, 
each, however, from a different former post, 
station themselves together to guard the village 
frontier. Each of the guard demands his for¬ 
mer password, aud, to render the recollection 
of them more difficult, w as the object of their 
changing comrades. Of course, the bride¬ 
groom cannot remember just the right pass¬ 
words, out of a dozen, and he must puy. But 
the same difiiculty presents itself at the next 
post, but be will no longer be drained of his 
cash. The only alternative is to run the threat¬ 
ening gauntlet of dusting brooms, and he trusts 
to Ins horse’s speed to escape as much of the 
unpleasuntness as possible. The signal of 
battle is telegraphed ahead by the unpaid post, 
and instantly every broom for the length of a 
quarter of a mile is set “ a sweeping of the 
highway.” Clouds of dust envelop the flyiug 
vehicle, and w’hen at last he enters his uative 
village, everybody sees, aud laughs, that his 
wedding trip has been through the battle- 
smoke of the enemy’s frontier. 
CHILD'S DRESS. 
As the Winter bus passed uud all cun look 
for warmer weather in the near future, the 
Spring cleaning is in order; but after this 
comes the question as to how- to make the 
children’s Summer dresses. For the little 
ones uuder five, goods which eau be washed 
are the very best, as to material. And noth¬ 
ing is prettier than white, or looks nicer. It 
is true that it soils easily, but not any more 
quickly, we think, than light colored ging¬ 
hams or calicos. Then white allows the trim¬ 
ming of all colors, which can be put on so 
many wayR, that no one would be allowed to 
think “ Well, that child always has on the 
same dress,” which fact is of no little import¬ 
ance, for we want our ehildreu to have as 
much variety in dress as possible. 
Every lady this Bummer must have a white 
dress, says Dame Fashion, and to tins end our 
dry-good stores have u large and flue display 
of imported robes, raugiug in price from ten 
dollars up into the hundreds. But we saw 
some very pretty oues at ten dollars. 
There are also Hamburg embroideries in 
colors; pink, blue, tScru, scarlet and yellow. 
These are not solid colors, but outline the pat¬ 
tern, which makes an exceedingly delicate aud 
tasteful trimming. 
We show in our engraving a pretty style 
for trimming a child’s dress. It is a Princess, 
aud the bretelles down the front, form a square 
collar at the back. 
Domestic Cccmomi) 
CONDUCTED BY EMILY MAPLE. 
REPLY TO CHARITY SWEETHEART. 
There is one sentence iu Charity Sweet¬ 
heart’s article iu the Rural of March, which 
1 wish to look at fora moment—“foryou can¬ 
not call doing house-work n profession.” What 
a strange idea for a woman to advance! Have 
we not schools all over our land where this 
one particular feature predominates? Does 
the boy at the mechanic’s bench or the girl ap¬ 
prenticed to the milliner’s business do his oi¬ 
lier work more thoroughly or systematically 
than the girl in the kitchen is taught to do 
housework by the skilled aud thoughtful 
mother? Cannot the simple thing of paring 
the potutoes and preparing them for dinner 
be reduced to an “art” as well as putting the 
ribbons on a lady’s bat? Is there no pro¬ 
fessional skill required to arrauge a savory 
aud appetizing dinner with its six or ten 
courses, where a dozen crusty bachelors or an 
equal number of spinsters are to pass criti¬ 
cisms upon this or that dessert, or relish ? Is 
there no professional skill required to arrange 
the library, the parloi or the conservatory? 
There are born housewives, but there are 
more bora slatterns that may, by thorough 
tuition, grow into professional housekeepers 
who may have printed in indelible letters 
upon tlieir foreheads “Perfection.” There are 
a thousand aud one little things connected 
with the duties of house-work, that require 
the most perfect professional skill. I might 
mention washing pots and kettles—there is 
true skill required right here—to kuowhowto 
wash glass aud silver-ware is no mean attain¬ 
ment. To broil a steak to a turn; to cook au 
omelet nicely, and then to make bread with its 
crustso crisp aud brown—do not these require 
professional skill' Why, to rnuke a cream 
biscuit that will almost “melt iu the mouth” 
requires more than common skill. Then us to 
the milk and butter—••gilt-edged”—a little 
skill here too is needed. Then do not neglect the 
pastry. I will wager a bachelor’s reputation 
(there! 1 have said it,) that there is not one in 
a hundred, who is not a “professional,” who 
can give to the dessert that flaky, crisp and 
savory pie-crust which our mothers mudo. 
Show me the housekeeper who euu nicely 
darn and patch, and I will show you a “pro 
fessionul” whom a husband should be aud is 
proud of. 
House-work is a profession more exalted, 
and deserving of more commendation thau 
the millinery or the dress-making business, 
aud yet we could ill afford to do without eit her 
of these. The mother who is silly enough 
to permit her daughter (man’s intended bet¬ 
ter half) to be neglectful of the most import¬ 
ant of all her callings iu being thoroughly 
versed iu every branch ul huuse-koeping first, 
then iu the Hue urts afterwards, if she can 
afford it, is culpably careless of her daughter’s 
owu best good, and laying a foundation for 
much sorrow and regret, in after life. 
Music, painting, sculpture, the bai, the ros¬ 
trum, baveall found devotees among women, 
and uoble women have graced all aud each 
as well as their brothers of the sterner sox: 
but uo profession has won more encomiums 
and louder praise t han that, of the nobly pro¬ 
fessional house keepers of America. Ah! my 
fair sisters, if you would kuow the nearest 
road to a man’s heart, a very wise saying, 
and one we may c< unt true, tells us it is “ by 
the way of his stomach.” 
But few men are such gormandizers that 
their eyes are entirely blind to the tidy and 
home-like appearance of a “ home.” A home 
nicely kept, iu all of its arrangements is more 
deserving of credit and praise than the most 
difficult air executed upou the piano. 
Professional house-keepers and cooks de¬ 
mand as high wages as those engaged iu 
almost any other profession. Why, I paid a 
lady (I say ladv. for such she was in the fullest 
sense of the word) cook one dollar per day to 
perforin the requirements of my table during 
the Summer of 1883, and I shall be more thau 
happy to renew the engagement for 1884, for 
I know she has a profession, and will carry it 
proudly. 
Let all mothers teach their daughters the 
need of perfection in this profession, and 
when we men see it exemplified, there will be 
fewer “clubs” and more homes. Seldom do 
we flue a “ Benedict” who docs not desire a 
home; but when women in their sober mo¬ 
ments declare that a woman cannot make and 
keep a home unless she is a graduate and has 
her diploma, we “ Benedicts” must cultivate 
our bump of cautiousness as carefully as in 
ages past. 
If woman would nobly declare her intention 
to perform home-work thoroughly well, there 
would be more happy homes and families. 
“A BENEDICT.” 
A COUNTRY HOUSEKEEPER’S IDEAS. 
ANNIE L. JACK. 
That word ‘ ‘ country” makes such a differ¬ 
ence, for to a housekeeper it means everything 
fresh and pure and of the best quality—butter 
that smells of clover, eggs fresh, and tasting 
of grain; good food, milk and cream that can 
tempt a delicate appetite and strengthen a 
weak stomach ; fresh fruit and vegetables, 
and a hundred other real advantages that are 
all known, though we do not. half appreciate 
them. Farmers are the richest people as a 
community, that the world can Hhow, if we 
count in all their blessings. Whatanimmense 
income it would require to keep a large family 
with as luxurious table fare in a city where 
the bund must be put in the pocket for every¬ 
thing, “even parsley,” as the lady who had sold 
her country home for a city residence once said 
to me" Even “Charity Sweetheart” would 
find the ** pork” more acceptable if she had to 
count the cost of every “ pound of flesh.” The 
very fullness of our larder makes us unable to 
estimate, at a right value, its merits. And the 
pureness of the air we breathe is not taken 
into account until some time when we visit 
the city in hot July, and the air is full of reek¬ 
ing stench, and we pass an open cesspool, or 
find a friend languishing for the very air we 
do not estimate as of any value in our country 
living. 
And if one is inclined to refinement, it is 
quite as eusy in country as in city life. There 
need not be any roughness in our amusements; 
there is every facility for a very beautiful 
and cultivated life, if one can have flowers 
and books, even if the other surroundings are 
simple aud inexpensive, aud I know plenty of 
farmers’ daughters who are complaining 
every day of want of means to better their 
condition, who desire books, and home adorn¬ 
ments, yet do uot know how to earn the money 
to purchase them. And I think it is the duty 
of every parent to provide ways aud means 
for this purpose. But if a gild can possess 
three or four fowls to begin with, she has the 
means before her, by careful management, of 
providing pocket-money for herself with very 
little trouble, and with added yearly gain, i 
kuow a young girl who sold enough Lilies-of- 
the-Valley to purchase “The Century” for her 
own perusal, uud another who sold flowers to 
purchase “ Harper's Monthly.” These two 
girls were thirsting for knowledge, and agreed 
to exchange periodicals, thereby getting the 
advantage of both. There are so many things 
on a farm that can be turaed into money. 
Even mullein leaves, and some of the wild 
herbs are salable to druggists, and seeds of 
flowers, vegetables, and many other things are 
gladlv Isnight by the merchant seedsmen, if 
known to be honestly pure and reliable. 
My idea is that country girls need somenim, 
some stimulus, aud those who cannot supply 
the deficiency in the usual outlets of art or 
music, might succeed ill the study of other 
branches quite as interesting, that require less 
outlay. The study of geology or entomology 
is very interesting, uud quite suited to a coun¬ 
try girl us well as boy. There is an eudless 
variety, uu Inexhaustible interest in the study 
of nature, aud nowadays there is so much to 
encourage those of our sox who aim high, aud 
in whatever position of life we are placed, 
there can be found something to teuru, some 
thing to teach, too, for we can always find 
those whose particular groove is different 
