8K 
SEPT IS 
course, to a certain Lady Ashburton, 
who soon after died, to be succeeded by 
a second Lady Ashburton, whom lire. Car¬ 
lyle liked. 
Whether, or not, Mrs. Carlyle made a mis¬ 
take iu applying her tact and energies in ad¬ 
ministering to the physical comforts of her 
husband, is a question. The man was so con¬ 
stituted that his mental operations depended 
upon certain physical conditions and in their 
straightened circumstances, there seemed 
nothing else for Mrs. Carlyle to do, but to per¬ 
form the menial work with her own liands. 
That, she was born for something better, or 
something different, seemed never to occur to 
Carlyle, To himself he was ever the great f 
Am, and it was only in the awfully lonely 
and desolate years of his life after her death, 
that beseemed to realize what she had been to 
him and then he could not say enough in her 
praise—she was superior to all other women 
lie had ever met, an angel beyond all dispute. 
A very little of this appreciation scattered 
along her pathway would have gone far with 
his “J eannie,” but she never had it. And acute, 
sensitive, sensible and clear-headed as she was 
it. was no wonder that she thought marriage 
an “immoral institution.” She had uo children, 
and her lively nature certainly did not have a 
very congenial person to play upon in the 
shape of her husband. From the facility 
with which she uses her pen, and the style of 
her letters, she would have made a delight- 
fid descriptive writer of social events, her 
comments thereupon being the best part. A 
great charm of her letters lie in her expres¬ 
sions of what is so often the experience of 
other people. Here is this for example in a 
letter to John Fonder. “A woman is con¬ 
stantly getting warned against following ‘ the 
impulses of her heart 1' Why, I could never 
imagine I For all the grand blunders I am 
conscious of having committed in life, have 
resulted from neglecting or gain-saying the 
impulses of my heart, to follow the insights of 
my midorstauding, (or still worse of others 
understanding.) And so I am now ar¬ 
rived at this with it that I have flung my un¬ 
derstanding to the dogs, and think, do, say 
and feel exactly as nature prompts me. 
I am a bad wife in so far as regards care 
about what is said of my husband’s books in 
newspapers or elsewhere. 1 am always so 
thankful to have them done, and out of the 
house, that the praise or blame they meet 
with afterwards is of the utmost insignifi¬ 
cance to me. It is not, then, because your 
article.covers him with generous praise that 
I am so delighted with it; but because it is full 
of sense, and high-mindedness of its own; and 
most eloquently written.” 
Here is th is anent b igh-life; which is the ex¬ 
perience of every womaD of heart, who knows 
well about it. “ We are just returned from our 
Hampshire visit, and 1 can answer for one of 
us beiug woru out with “ strenuous idleness,” 
as I do not remember ever to have been be¬ 
fore ! Six weeks have 1 been doing absolutely 
nothing but playing at battledore and shuttle¬ 
cock, chess, talking nonsense and getting rid of 
a certain fraction of this mortal life as cleverly 
and uselessly as possible; nothing could exceed 
the sumptuosity and elegance of the whole 
tli i ng, nor its uselessness. Oh, dear me! I wonder 
why so many people wish for high position and 
great wealth, when it, is such an o]>en secret 
what all that amounts to iu these days, merely 
to emancipating people from all the practical 
difficulties, which might teach them the facts 
of things, and sympathy with their follow 
creatures. This Lady Harriet Baring, whom 
we havo been staying with, is the very clever¬ 
est woman out of sight, that 1 ever saw in my 
life (and I have seen all our “ distinguished 
authoresses”); moreover, she is full of energy 
and sincerity and has I am sure, an excellent 
heart; yet so perverted has she been by the 
training and lilc-Iong humoring incident to 1 
her position, that I question if in her whole life, 
she has done as much for her fellow' creatures 
as my mother in one year. The sight of such 
a woman should make one content with her 
own trials, even when t hey feel to be rather 
hard.” After another similar visit she writes: 
“Seeing how they act iu the upper places 
does not give me any discontent with the place 
I am born to, quite the contrary. 1, for one 
solitary individual (as Carlyle says) could not 
bo other than perfectly miserable iu idleness, 
world without end; and for a grand lady, it, 
seems somehow inqiossible, whatever may be 
her taleuts and “good intentions,” than to bo 
other than idle to death. Even children do not 
II rid them in occupation and duties. A beau¬ 
tiful Lady Anne where I w'as staying, had a 
baby a month old; and her new baby was left 
with an older one iu care of a doctor and 
nurses; the mother seemingto be us little aware 
as all the rest (myself excepted) that auy mor¬ 
tal could And any thing to obiect to in such 
i ree and easy holding of one’s children. But 
as your ancestor said long ago “they Yet muh ed 
that hae the world, and troubled that want 
it,” Q», the wlvole, however, the more rational 
sort of trouble, that which brings the least re¬ 
morse along with it, seems to me to be the 
“wanting it.” C is gone to ride a little “ill- 
haired" this morning.” One might, go on quot¬ 
ing from the letters to the very last one. all, 
more or less directly “pointing the moral,” 
that, there is no station in life, but it, is from 
some one’s point of view, very undesirable, and 
that every condit ion lias its compensation. If 
any reader of this is irritated because her hus¬ 
band is not likely to prove a “ genius” she 
should read these letters in order to see what 
a “ lovely time ” one has in having a “genius 
for a husband. ” 
CONDUCTED BY MISS KAY CLARK. 
OUR BEAUTIFUL VALLEY HOME. 
FRANCES A. BOYNTON. 
What bright possibilities rise up in our 
imagination as we read this suggestive title! 
Though our days of hopeful, eager anticipa¬ 
tion are only memories of the past, wo yet 
prize those blight, cheering adornments and 
surroundings, which make home and its as¬ 
sociations so dear to us. 
Twenty years ago when we first started to 
build us a homo in this graud old forest val. 
ley, we had very little time or means with 
which to beautify our new home; but uaturo 
had done much forus, and we were careful to 
show our gratitude by preserving many of 
these beautiful, stately, old forest trees, up¬ 
right and sturdy, silent yet a constant remind¬ 
er of centuries past and gone. Our little ones 
played beneath their aged, outstretched arms 
and, as big boys aud girls, they love still to 
frequent tlio rustic seats and velvety grass at 
the foot of their old companions. To us, each 
one has a separate individuality, and taking 
one of them away, would seem almost like re 
moving a member from our own home circle 
Then, too, we had tho eeaselass music of the 
tumbling, rushing, Fox as it, sped along units 
rapid course to the bay. No city’s filth had as 
yet tainted its rippling purity; no dams or 
locks obstructed its wild freedom; no turning 
wheels or rumbling machinery gave us warn¬ 
ing that this wild, beautiful valley was yet to 
bo the New England of the Northwest. 
How well I remember the little, old log- 
house with its chinked up sides aud shako 
roof. Although we did not intend to always 
make this our home, we did not neglect to do 
all in our power to make it pleasant, “within 
and without” so that the earliest impressions 
on the childish memories of our children, 
might bo pleasant ones. 
John was always handy with tools and he 
seemed never to tire of making little improve¬ 
ments here and there, both indoors and out. 
A rough veranda in front of the house, seats 
among the trees, a rustic arbor, and many 
other little comforts and attractions made the 
“outside surroundings” of our little homo, the 
admiration of all. What pleasant excursions 
we used to make into the woods to get wild 
climbing vines to train up over the arbor, 
verauda, and bouse. As fast as wo wore able, 
John set out fruit trees, so that we soon had 
fruit in abundance, and you all know, dear 
readers, what an enjoyable feature of a 
Winter evenings’ entertainment, a pan of 
wholesome rosy apples make. 
We had quite a little library, which we 
brought with us from our Eastern home. 
These, with the two weekly papers, which al¬ 
ways came about three weeks after date, were 
a great source of comfort and companionship 
to us, John made a nice, hanging book-case 
aud a folding writing table under it. The 
same old book-case can be seen to day up in 
the attic of our new house, where the girls 
used it last as a doll’s cupboard. 
We had only two rooms down stairs. The 
kitchen and living room. The inside of the 
logs were sawed so that 1 could paper them 
by first using coarse heavy paper, and over 
that a neat, cheap wall paper. 
V\ e had a stout rug carpet for the liviug- 
room, and then 1 had two of those splendid 
English Ivies climbing all up around the 
south windows and over the ceiling; uud lust 
but best of all, I had my little old-fashioned 
melodeoii, and it. did seem as if John and tho 
children would never tire of hearing those 
old fumtliar tunes. John had a good voice, 
and the children, too, delighted iu joining 
with us to sing the old time melodies. 
When the first saw-mill was built, 11 miles 
from our place, John cut and hauled logs to 
get the lumber for our new house. 
You may l>e sure that it was with real re¬ 
gret that, we saw the old log-house that had 
been home to us for so many years, tom down 
to make room l’or the more modern and com¬ 
fortable dwelling. We planned to have three 
sleeping rooms down stairs, for our *w# use. 
Our rooms were all high and airy, and we still 
adhered to our custom of making the living- 
room the pleasantest room in the house. It 
extends dear across the wing of the house 24 
feet, I think John said, aud is lighted at each 
end by a large bay window. It serves as din¬ 
ing room, bbrary and conservatory. These 
bay windows are just the places for my flowers 
and plauts. The birdies like to havo their 
cages hang there too. John has his secretary 
aud writing tabic near the south window, and 
liis book-cases with glass doors reach half way 
down one side of the room. 
Two years ago last Christmas we made the 
girls a present of a fine organ. Blanche and 
Winnie are both taking music lessons this 
Winter, and they learn rapidly. My lingers 
are getting so st iff that I shall be only too glad 
to have the girls relieve me from playing al¬ 
together. 
We have verandas around three sides of 
the house, and over the soulh verauda fac¬ 
ing the river, we have an ornamental rail¬ 
ing, and low windows opening out upon it 
from the rooms above. When the sun gets 
around in the west, tin- great elm shades this 
part of the house and makes a most delight¬ 
ful place to spend an hour or two, with our 
low rockers, sewing, reading, or looking across 
the river, away over as far as Clifton, on the 
east shore of Lake Wimiobago. 
Rut, dear sisters, I meant from the start, to 
make this narration of my own humble ex- 
perience, in the hope that it may benefit others 
just starting out with new responsibilities. 
There is everything to be gained. The whole 
future happiness of our lives, and the happi¬ 
ness of those entrusted to our care, depends 
upon the condition of our homes within aud 
without; so 1 say, no matter how humble they 
may bd, adorn and beautify them to the best 
of your ability. Surround them with the 
comforts and attractions which are within the 
reach of the humblest of God’s creatures, and 
you will have laid the foundation for a life of 
happiness and content, giving your children 
an heritage which will expaud their hearts 
and minds, making them good, intelligent, 
home-loving men and women. 
CHRISTMAS IS COMING! 
Yes! Christmas will be here iu fourteen 
weeks! Not any too much time between now 
aud then to make articles intended for pres¬ 
ents. It is customary here in New York, to 
commence purchasing, as soon us the people 
return from their Summer joumeyings. We 
follow the old adage and “ take tune by the 
forelock,” in representing by our cut, the 
Fig. 688. 
manner in which handsome dolls may be 
dressed and cannot fail of pleasing chil¬ 
dren. Wc are not among those who think 
anything will lie good enough for a doll; for 
we remember the first doll’s apparel wo ever 
had the pleasure of owning. Each article was 
as completely finished as the clothing worn by 
ourselves. Among the dresses, (for there 
were several) was a will to one, tucked uud 
ruffled with lace; also a handsome cloak made 
of purple satiu, lined with lemon colored 
satin, and finished with cord and little tassels. 
This with the hat, to mab’li, wlileh was trim¬ 
med with Marabout leathers (the then only 
fashionable style) completed the street costume 
of dolly. And let none say that such was a 
waste of time, for habits formed at the ago 
of six or seven years are difficult to outgrow. 
Hence we have always enjoyed having button 
holes made to fit, the buttons, and bands all of 
the right length, Hot, nil inch to spare either 
way Children learn to like best, the clothes 
that, fit well and are entire in all particulars. 
We hope this will inspire many mothers to 
try the experiment, if it should bo such, of 
using taste in the selection of materials for a 
dolls wardrobe, and time in making it. No 
doubt there are a great many who would like 
to do this, if they had the requisite time, and 
to such we would suggest that perhaps the 
sisters, or grandmothers might like to help 
make the household a happy one in the com¬ 
ing Christmas time. c. 
TWO SILVERY-HAIRED GRANDMAS. 
SOPHIA C. GARRETT. 
Not far from me, in church, sit two grand¬ 
mas. Grandma No. 1 is very well preserved 
for a lady of 7H. Her bonnet is of modern 
style, and worn well over her forehead. Some 
lace hangs from the front and shades her fore¬ 
head, but does not cover her eyes. Among 
the trimming of her bonnet is seen a glimpse 
of purple lilacs almost hidden by leaves. Her 
cloak is of good material, handsomely made 
and thoroughly comfortable. Her dress is 
fresh and in perfect taste, and her silk gloves 
are well fitting and beautiful. Her shoes are 
as nice as those worn by youuger Indies. She 
sits with her son’s family, all of whom show 
a tender, loving solicitude for their grnudma. 
They do not forget that with the blessing of 
God, she brought their father up to be a good 
man, and show their gratitude to her for it. 
Her room at home is well furnished. A good 
carpet, light, paper well selected, curtains, a 
few softly-tinted chromos with here and there 
a bit of pencil drawings, over which peep 
pressed ferns, aud autumn leaves, all uuitc to 
make her room very attractive. On her stand 
are some old Bibles which were used by her 
grandparents, Her parents used them also. 
In one of them is written, “Used by my father 
at family worship every morning for 88 
years,” iu grandma’s writing. Other books 
are on the stand. Works of light literature, 
travels, histories, science aud art. Although 
her sight and heariug are impaired by age, 
still she has sufficient use of those gifts to read 
books aud papers, to sew aud do many other 
things, also to hoar the voices of loved ones 
and to enjoy the delights of music. She takes 
part, in many light household duties, and 
shares in the joys and pastimes of the family, 
and is often coaxed out of doors to play croquet 
with some of her merry little descendants. 
Thus she is kept youthful, so to speak, aud 
companionable for all. 
Grandma No. 2 sits with her son’s family 
likewise. She is a few years younger than 
Grandma No. 1, hut looks much older. Her 
eyes are red as if she wore used to weeping. 
Her face has a harsh look, and her appear¬ 
ance plainly shows that she has uo loving 
daughter to care for her. Her old bonnet is 
worn far back on her small knot of rough 
gray hair. Her shawl is soiled and her black 
kid gloves arc brown from long wear. Her 
dress is not. well made nor of good material, 
and her shoes ought to bo replaced by a bettor 
pair. She is rarely ever called upon to assist 
her son’s family in household affairs and is 
left to spend many lonely hours in her room. 
Blie is tired of mending and darning, of ran¬ 
sacking her bureau drawers to see if every¬ 
thing is iu place, and even of constantly read¬ 
ing. if she could wipe the teaspoons, or put 
the dishes away in the pantry occasionally, it 
would be a relief to her monotonous life. Bho 
is naturally sensitive, and her present manner 
of living has made her morbidly so. Bhe re- 
mendiers her c. i Id hood’s home, in which no 
harsh word or c. eed ever marred her happiness. 
She thinks of the home to which her husband 
brought her a joyous bride. The first years of 
widowhood were spent in the home of her 
only daughter. Those years were full of 
pleasant occupations, A change came. This 
affectionate daughter diet! after a brief ill¬ 
ness, and she came to live with her son. Sad 
and homesick, she spout long hours idly brood¬ 
ing over her grief alone in her room. Had 
she opened her heart to her son’s wife and 
family, and told them she needed their 
forbearance and sympathy until time would 
soften the sharp pangs of affliction which 
seemed to make her ungrateful to them, they 
would have overwhelmed her with the tendor- 
est love. But she did not,. With an income 
sufficient, to buy her clothing, she is poorly 
dressed. Her daughter used to attend care¬ 
fully to the renewal of her apparel. Her 
son’s family would rejoice to do so likewise, 
hut sne has no confidence in them, and when 
urged by them to let thorn assist her, she re¬ 
pels eoldlv all their offers. They have deter¬ 
mined to let her alone, which is a great mis¬ 
take, for all can be brought to a right state of 
mind by the wonderful power of love. 
If there bo iu uny of the homes where the 
Rural visits, a grandma having tho sensitive 
disposition of number two of our sketch, try 
the wonderful power of love, whieh will draw 
her into the family circle; she will there for¬ 
get the great losses of her life, and be con 
tented and happy during the years that may 
renmiu to her. 
f 
