g34 THE RURAL HEW-YORKER. AUG IS 
£\)t (Sartor. 
A MASTER-PIECE! 
Behold that gardener (Fig. 271) standing 
aside, that he may the better view with pride 
the hideout monstrosity before him, himself 
as brainless as the rooster his sheers have 
shorn to shape. Such abominations in horti¬ 
culture are not uncommon in Europe, but, 
fortunately, they are infrequent in America. 
Who has traveled in the rural districts of the 
south of EuifJand without observing them in 
some village and wayside yards? In the pre¬ 
tentious gardens of some nobleman they ure a 
special feature, France lias plunged more 
deeply into the horror, arid Italy claims it as 
an art; but only in one or two cases in this 
country is it represented prominently enough 
to merit the title of Italian gardening. 
Of course, we all know that trees or shrubs 
adapted for hedge-work may, at the operator’s 
will, be pruned into a variety of forfns other 
than that of u hedge. In topiary work (the 
name given to this style of shaping trees aud 
shrubs) representations of furniture, as chairs, 
tables, stools; of construction, as wind iws, 
arbors, temples; of unimals, as elephants, 
bears, dogs, peacocks, aud other things, 
are often executed with cunning nicety. Tree 
Box, English Yew aud Holly are the ever¬ 
greens commonly used in these distortions; 
but Red Cedar and other junipers; hemlock, 
White, Norway, aud other Spruces; Douglas 
Fir. White Pine, Retinispuras, and Arbor- 
Vitfos are also available. In the Southern 
States Pittosporum Toblra is the favorite sub¬ 
ject of desecration. Deciduous trees and 
shrubs, as English Beech, Hornbeam, Pyra- 
eantha, Hawthorn, Privet, Buckthorn, aud 
the Japan Quince, are also cut into odd shapes 
and fantastic forms, but they seldom present 
the compactness, brightness, and precision 
apparent in the case of evergreens, hence are 
less used. It requires skill to contrive, pa¬ 
tience to execute, ar.d perseverance to continue 
the work. The subjects need pruning in Sum¬ 
mer and Winter, every gap must be tilled up 
and dying twig replaced. 
But w r eneed not imitate the topiarinu ass, or 
ox. or chicken, to vitiate the loveliness of trees 
aud shrubs. There isno more charming or ap- 
propriate arborescent or frutieose form than 
that which is natural; aud without violating 
her laws we can help nature—render more 
lasting, better lilted to our purpose, and loveli¬ 
er t hat which is already beautiful. We short¬ 
en back the leaders of our trees while they are 
young, and cut in t he w andering, or erratic, 
side shoots, to give them a more compacted 
form, and furnish them with branches, to their 
base; but ull mu - efforts in this direction tend 
to the elegance and perfection in form and 
permanent benefit of the subject operated, on. 
But when we clip our spruces into extinguish¬ 
er and sugar-loaf forms, aud keep them so, we 
ridicute nature and display ueither taste nor 
talent—why, auy railroad uavvie can do that! 
Clipped trees are miserable in themselves, and 
a discredit to their owners. And what better 
are the sheared pillar, hay-cock, semi-spheri 
cal or cushion-shaped masses of scrubby twigs 
we often find Forsythias, Mock-oranges, Spi- 
raias and Japan Quinces clipped into? Not a 
whit. The Honey Locust and the beech, so 
massive and umbrageous in their perfect 
form, may. by timely care aud pruning, be 
divested of their massive nature and dwaifed 
to serve a useful purpose as a hedge, by flip¬ 
ping. But the handsome flowering shrubs 
that wo grow in our gardens, aud which we 
wish to assume symmetrical aud beautiful, 
though limited proportions, und produce a 
copious supply of blossoms, should never be 
sheared. The annual or, more commonly, 
semi-annual dipping they are subjected to, 
sadly debilitates them; whereas the judicious 
thinning and shortening of the shoots, the re¬ 
moval of diseased wood, and the maintenance 
of sound, firm, w ell-ripened, young shoots, will 
accomplish, in good appearance aud profusion 
of flowers, w-hat no wholesale slaughter of 
switches cau ever secure. 
Lilminj. 
THE SCHOLAR AND REFORMER. 
EMMA L. MII.LER, 
In every large assembly there is always 
some person who, in his superior physical at¬ 
tainments, has outgrown those around him, 
aud stands head ami shoulders above. In the 
intellectual world wo have a similar over¬ 
growth. Every age has hud its Alexander, its 
Caesar, or its Napoleon. The illustrious char¬ 
acters that have appeared at different stages 
of the world’s history may not have equaled 
these conquerors, just mentioned, in their ty¬ 
rannical rule, but. in the influence they exert¬ 
ed. Such was Martin Luther. Was it by the 
skillful use of the sword that Luther’s name 
has been banded down to each successive gen¬ 
eration, and to day stands out before the civ¬ 
ilized world as fair as when he first burst the 
bonds of Catholicism ? No. his was a fur more 
noble conquest, for he won the very hearts of 
bis countrymen by his kind, sympathetic na¬ 
ture, and thus has influenced the race down to 
the present day. 
Martin Luther was born in 1483 at Eisleben, 
a small town near the central part of Ger¬ 
many, His father belonged to the peasant 
race, but his mother was of a burgher family. 
He early removed with his father to Mansfield, 
a mining region in the Kurtz Mountains, 
wdiere lie remained until he was 19, when he 
was sent to a convent school in his native 
town. Naturally of a bright intellect, he made 
rapid progress in his studios, and ere long was 
befriended by an old acquaintance of his 
family and sent to the university at. Erfurt. 
Here hts worthy character shone forth with 
all its brightness. He won the hearts of both 
teachers and students, and was at once looked 
up to as an example of Christian simplicity. 
Bat dark days were cotniug. Martin, al¬ 
though about to carry off the honors of the 
school aud stand first among the German 
scholars, was dissatidied with worldly ap¬ 
plause and sought the seclusion of t he cloister. 
He strove to bury all ambition aud his noble 
intellect in daily penances, but all in vain. 
His star was only dimmed by a passing cloud, 
which was destined to leave it brighter than 
before. From his lowly station as novice in 
the Augustiniau convent, he was successively 
raised to monk and priest, aud afterwards to 
Doctor of Divinity. 
We next find him in the imperial city of 
Rome, to which he was sent as an embassy. 
While in this place he held masses of the 
church, and wont through every detail of the 
proscribed round of devotional exercises, be¬ 
lieving against experience, hoping against 
hope. He also attempted the ascent of the 
Holy Staircase, which once, it is affirmed, 
formed part of Pilot’s house. Step by step he 
ascended the bard stones worn into hollows by 
the knees of pilgrims, who thus so'-ure an in 
diligence from penance for a period of 1000 
yeare, for themselves and children. Putieutly 
be crept up the staircase, but when about half 
way, this thought flashed through his mind, 
“The just shall live by faith.” He dared not 
creep another step, but standing upright, like 
a man suddenly loosed from his fetters, he 
walked from the. place, and returned to Ger¬ 
many with his eyes open, to see the corrupt 
state into which Rome had fallen. 
He saw the cruel yoke under which his 
people were struggling, und like his Master of 
old, weeping over Jerusalem, so Luther sor¬ 
rowed for his poor deluded countrymen. He 
saw only one way to rescue them, und that 
was by boldly preaching against Romish 
errors. But this would endanger his life, lie 
knew he had uiauy friends; but would they 
sustain him if he. himself, should turn an 
enemy to the Infallible Church? Before he 
had arrived at, a final conclusion, he heard of 
Dr. Zetzel, who was then traversing Northern 
Europe, selling indulgences to the ignorant 
populace. Luther could keep si lent no longer, 
but at once denounced these falsities, and when 
he placed his Thesis—a written docuiueut 
against the church of Rome--upon the chapel 
door, and burned the decretals and other an 
eieut writing* upon which the claims of Romuu 
Catholicism arc founded, it proved to be the 
lighting of the match that kindled the fire of 
the Reformation. 
The monster that for years had been quietly 
sleeping was now awakened, and came rush¬ 
ing upon Dr. LuUier with all the fury of its 
nature. The Pope excommunicated him from 
the church, and far and wide he was de¬ 
nounced as a heretic. But through all this 
Luther stood firm, never ceasing to preach. 
Notwithstanding the threats of Rome, his 
lecture room was daily crowded with people 
who were anxious to receive the word of life. 
Luther felt that in order to accomplish great 
good, the Bible must lie placed within reach of 
not onlv the nobility but the poor, ignoraut 
peasants-. Hitherto the Holy Scriptures had 
only been translated into the Latin, and in 
this way was kept from the common people. 
Id view’of this. Luther withdrew from public 
life aud secluded himself in au old tower in 
the Thnringian Forest. Here, for many 
mouths.-be labored unceasingly at the trans¬ 
lation of the Bible into the German language. 
Haviug accomplished this great work, lie 
next established schools among the lower 
classes of people. Monasteries and nunneries, 
thatonee were thronged with their unhappy 
victims, were now vacated; quietness was 
again restored, and the dark cloud that hud 
overshadowed Germany was cleared away. 
At last Luther was called to Eislebeu to settle 
some disputes, aud while there closed his eyes 
upon the scenes of his earthly labors. 
After 08 years of earnest work, his faithful 
voice was silenced forever, but left behind a 
name that will ever bo reverenced by all 
Christian nations. It is said "To know how 
to say what other persons only think is what 
makes poets or sages, but to dare to say what 
others only ilare to think, makes men martyrs 
or reformers, or both.” 
for IDotnftt. 
CONDUCTED BY MISC RAY CLARK. 
TWO LADY NOVELISTS. 
“Sweet are the uses of adversity”—so says 
the banished Duke in “As you like it.” Ad¬ 
verse health drove me to farming in Dakota, 
and adverse circumstances kept me in it last 
Winter. During its long evenings nrymind 
was turned in upon itself, and, like Hamlet’s, 
was “sickbed o’er with the pale east of 
thought.” How sweet, is such a breathing 
space in one’s life when after long years spent 
in a large and busy city I was able to look at 
life calmly and philosophically, taking no 
care for the morrow, but enjoying perfect 
rest and rejuvenating both soul and body. 
The illustrious Dane’s melancholy or mad¬ 
ness (for it is as yet a disputed point) was at¬ 
tributed to the fair Ophelia. I cannot say 
mine was brought on by any such cause. Pos¬ 
sibly it wus the almost total exclusion from 
the society of women that made them the cen¬ 
ter around which my thoughts sometimes 
turned. While in that mood I took up a book. 
“Corinne or Italy,” by Madame De Steel, and 
read and thought much over the book, then 
on its authoress, aud. lastly, on women iu 
general. No one who wants more than a 
mere story can fail to be charmed with this 
work of the brilliant Frenchwoman. She in¬ 
fuses her own life iuto Corinne, and carries 
you with her to sunny Italy, there to show 
you everything worth seeing or hearing in the 
way of art und literature. It is in no formal 
guide book fashion, but as a philosopher and 
friend in the company of a brilliant set of men 
and women. What a lofty soul she imbues 
Corinne with, aud what a noble presence com¬ 
bined with such a gracious manner! To my 
mind she is the embodiment of an almost per¬ 
fect union of soul and body, and spontaneous¬ 
ly calls forth our admiration, for as such she 
is the uoblest w'ork of God. How seldom do 
we see such a union iu real life. We have 
either the blue stocking type, all intellect aud 
a poor, dwarfed body negligently arrayed, or 
the fleshy school, beautiful to look at. but ex¬ 
tremely disappointing ou closer acquaintance. 
There is such a charming presence, such beau¬ 
ty of face, and such delicacy of form about 
our American women it is matter for regret 
that these qualities ure not more generally 
combiued with large hearts and gifted minds. 
Corinne is not spoiled by adulation, as one 
would expect. She has the trials and disap¬ 
pointments of life and, above all, a most un 
satisfactory lover; but she comes through 
them all, purified and ennobled. Many women 
nowadays can love not once, but very often. 
Corinne’s, however, was uo such love. I be¬ 
lieve a woman’s love such as hers is unfathom¬ 
able, possessing her entire being, aud once 
slighted or broken it cau never bloom agaiu. 
Meu are made of sterner stuff, and such a love 
with them is exceedingly rare. I know of 
but one instance, that of Chopin for Madame 
George Sand. Corinne’s ways, looked at 
from our cold, Anglo-Saxon point of view, 
would be deemed rather Bohemian; but she is 
not to be judged by such arbitrary ways. Put 
yourself in her place; live amongst the Italian 
people, enter into their sympathy for art, their 
love for the beuutifui. aud the delight they 
take iu the pomp and pageantry of life, 
and then consider whether she dignified their 
life with her presence or lent her genius and 
influence to debase it. Brilliant, happy 
Corinne! I thank thee for what thou wert. 
Many a uight you made me forget this cold, 
rigorous climate, aud took me off to sunny 
Italy to enjoy a feast of imugiuution and ro¬ 
mance, to revel iu poetic fancies, and for a 
brief space to feel entirely happy, “ Bella 
Italia,” the begiuning of the sailor’s song that 
conjured Corinne back to Italy, often mounts 
to my lips when combating stern nature iu 
the fields, and lifting my cares wafts me back 
to sunny Italy. 
From the brilliant MadamedeStael Iturned 
to sombre Charlotte Bronte, aud took up her 
“ Jane Eyre.” If the former represents imag¬ 
ination aud romance, the latter represents 
truth and emotion. “Jane Eyre” is written 
with her heart’s blood, and tells the story of a 
noble but a suffering life. Aud vet how 
grand the book is; its sorrows appeal to our 
better nature, aud call forth our deepest sym¬ 
pathy. We cau not help feeliug how human 
she is, and yet how divine in the noble way 
she combats her difli 'ulties. Man though 1 
be, 1 am not ashamed to say her tale of suffer¬ 
ing drew tears from my eyes on more than 
one occasion, so completely was i engrossed 
in it. Like the smile that is sweetest when it 
comes through tears, so joy is brighter when 
it rises through sorrow. What pain it must 
have cost the authoress when the Lou¬ 
don critics while admitting the worth of 
the book, insinuated it must have been 
written by a society woman of shady rep¬ 
utation ! How different from such a 
woman was the clergyman’s daughter, living 
in a retired part of Yorkshire, in England, 
knowing little of socioty except through books, 
and leading a simple but earnest life. Only 
recently was the little old-fashioned church in 
which her father officiated ruthlessly swept 
away and a modern one put in its place. It was 
not because of its unfitness for worship, but be¬ 
cause too many came to reverence the shrine 
of the authoress of "Jane Eyre.” A prophet 
hath no honor in his own country and among 
bis own people, and truly this has been exem¬ 
plified in her case: but her name is none the 
less remembered, ami w hen these vandals are 
dead and forgotten, she will live in hearts that 
love her well. 1 do not know that Charlotte 
Bronte has many disciples amongst our 
women. Tliere are some farmers’ wives who 
have her patient, suffering nature, but lacking 
her other qualities; are not, by any means, 
good specimens of women. But w herever her 
true nobility, her self-reliance, and her disre¬ 
gard for a too rigid propriety are imitated, we 
have a true woman. I r has been my fortune 
to know many such in our rural homes, and I 
hope they will ulwavs be fouuil there. Not- 
w irhstanding all the love of self and the eager 
desire to escape the duties of life, there are 
yet amongst us many true and noble women— 
women who do not consider the every-day 
duties of life beneath them, and are ever 
ready with sympathy or assistance in joy or 
sorrow. 
“When nntn and anguish wring the brow. 
A ministering angel thou ’’ 
T. MACALPINE. 
AFTER THE BURDEN OF LIFE’S 
WEARY DAY. 
One of our readers has sent us the follow¬ 
ing clipped from the “Detroit Free Press,” 
and asks as a special favor, to see it in our 
columns. It is a sad. and alas, truthful com¬ 
mentary upon the affection of the world in 
general: but we believe that there are being 
lived, grand, and noble lives, full of sincere, 
unselfish devotion; and wish most heartily 
these would lie multiplied by thousands. Eds.] 
“OVER A COFFIN-LID.” 
“She—was—a — good — wife—to — me! A 
good wife. God bless her!” 
The words were spoken in trembling ac¬ 
cents over a coffin-lid. The woman asleep 
there had borne the heat aud burden of life’s 
long day, and no one had ever heard her 
murmur : her hand was quick to reach out in 
a helping grasp to those who fell by the way- 
side, and her feet were swift ou errands of 
mercy; the heart of her husband had trusted 
in her; he bad left her to long hours of solitude 
while ho amused himself in scenes which she 
had no part. When boon companions de¬ 
serted him. when fickle affection selfKhlv de¬ 
parted, when pleasure palled, he went home 
and found her waiting for him. 
“Conic from your long.lone roving. 
On life's sea so lili-uk and rough. 
Come to me tender and lovlnz 
,\n<i 1 shall he blest enough." 
That had been her love-song -always on 
her lips or in her heart. Children had been 
born to them. She had reared them almost 
alone- they were gone! Her baud bad led 
them to the uttermost edge of the morning 
that has no noon, Then she had comforted 
him, and sent him oat strong arid whole¬ 
hearted, while she stayed ut home and -cried. 
What can a woman do but cry?—and trust; 
Well, she is at rest now. But she could not 
die until he had promised to “ix*ar up.” not to 
fret, but to remember bow happy they had 
been. They? Yes, it was even so. For she 
was blest in giving, and he in receiving. It 
was an equal partnership after all. 
“She—was—a—good—w I f e—to—me.” 
Ob, tuau! mau! Why not have told her so, 
when her ears were not dulled ny death? Why 
wait to say these words over a coffin wherein 
lies a wasted, wean, gray-haired woman, 
whose eyes have so long held that pathetic 
story of loss and suffering and patient yearn¬ 
ing, which so man’, women’s eyes reveal—to 
those who read? Wby not have made the wil¬ 
derness in her heart blossom like the rose with 
the prodigality of your love? Now you would 
give worlds—were they yours to give—to see 
the tears of joy your words would have once 
caused, be-jeweling the closed wiudows of her 
soul. It is too late. 
••WV havu careful thoughts for the stranger. 
And smiles for the sometimes guest— 
But oft tor >>ur own 
The bitter tone 
Though we love our own the best.” 
Domestic 0cotionuj 
CONDUCTED BY EMILY MAPLE. 
NOTES. 
Insist upon the children “taking a rest” 
during the long summer days. 
Home decoration of the cheap-picture kind 
has been aud is sadly overdone. 
Two or three minced onions, added to toma¬ 
toes while stewing, improve the flavor accord¬ 
ing to our taste. 
The boy at the Rural Grounds is nearly five 
years old, aud he lias never bad a piece of pie, 
cake, or candy given to him! 
Select good baking apples, remove the cores, 
till the cavities with sugar, put iuto a pan with 
a little water, and hake. Serve with milk or 
thin cream. A healthy dessert for children. 
For a powder for dusting the skin of infants 
or adults, use corn-starch perfumed with a 
small quantity of l.ubina’extract of violet. It 
is as harmless as anythiug cau be of that kind. 
But a layer of corn-starch into a small box, 
wet a piece of white paper the same size as the 
