762 
«©V 47 
Citriunj. 
AUTUMN SONG. 
BY BYRON FORCEYTHE WILLSON. 
In Spring tin: poet is glad. 
And in Summer the poet is gay; 
But in Autumn the poet is sad, 
And has something sad to say. 
For the wind moans in the wood. 
And the leaf drops from the tree; 
And the cold rain falls on the graves of the good, 
And the mist comes up from the sea. 
And the Autumn songs of the poet’s soul 
Are set to the passionate grief 
Of winds that sough aud bells that toll 
The dirge of the falling leaf. 
SOMETHING ABOUT WEEKLY NEWS¬ 
PAPERS. 
The weekly and the daily are alike y'et very 
different in their processes, character and pur¬ 
poses. The daily is the messenger in haste to 
bear important, messages of sorrow or joy 
and to keep alive in widely separated people 
the throb of sympathy. The weekly, at longer 
intervals, brings the succor of knowledge aud 
the stimulus of discussion not merely on 
trifling news, but on the thousand and one in¬ 
dustries, special wants and great principles of 
the day. Its messages are for a class, among 
whom it promotes sympathy and co-operation, 
and for whom it is an organ or oracle. 
The daily’s chief aim is to gather and sell the 
news. Its columns are as kaleidoscopic as the 
history of the world from day to day. Its 
editorial topics are furnished by its own news 
columns; they seek to discuss what is upper¬ 
most in men's thoughts. It follows rather 
than leads. Its policy or principles will have 
more or less permanency according to the 
mental and moral make-up of its managing 
editor, and take their character rather from 
his estimate of what is popular and, in the 
end, will win them from bis seuse of justice 
or the eternal fitness of things, Fome editors 
of dailies claim and exercise the right of tell¬ 
ing what seems to them true, regardless, of its 
effect on their sales and dividends, but most 
of them seem to keep one eye on the stock¬ 
holders and the other on the appetites of their 
readers, and give the honest truth very cur¬ 
sory glances or none at all. They frequently 
receive fixed salaries and are not otherwise 
interested in the financial success of the pa¬ 
per. 
The daily is sold chiefly by newsmen in the 
near vicinity of its office. Its distribution by 
mail to remote places reached by the weeklies 
would be impracticable, as its matter is of the 
perishable sort. Then, all cities have papers 
publishing simultaneously the same news dis¬ 
patches, furnished them by press associations, 
which gather and wholesale news. The 
weekly comes later and slower, with weightier 
matter after the daily, with its heavy leaders, 
which sometimes stir up controversy, enmities, 
and even libel suits, is thrown aside and for 
gotten. The weekly aims not so much to 
print the news as to promote the interests of 
some branch of commerce or trade, some oc¬ 
cupation or class, and its subject matter and 
circulation will be proportionately restricted. 
Thus we have weeklies educational, religious, 
sectarian, agricultural, scientific, literary, 
etc., as well as couutless others, each prima¬ 
rily in the interest of some industry or calling- 
Such is the demaud for them that in the 
United States and Territories there are re¬ 
ported 9,186 weeklies, and including those in 
the Dominion of Canada, 9,579. Many of these 
issue from the offices of the larger dailies, most 
of which publish semi-weekly and weekly pa¬ 
pers, the matter in which is largely made up 
from their daily issues by their regular edi¬ 
torial corps. Hence their cheapness. 
The weekly paper like the daily must have 
its editorial corps, critics and reviewers and 
its correspondents. Most of its writers will 
be specialists. It may hive comparatively 
few salaried men, but a very large propor¬ 
tion of its matter must be paid for by the line 
or column, usually at great cost. Then the 
weekly usually has illustrations from special 
drawings by artists employed for the pur¬ 
pose, Aside from the high prices paid for 
such work and the engraving, there are the 
added labor and expense of the make-up of 
the paper, especially when cuts are more than 
one and less than two columns wide, as was 
the case in the Rural of November 8d. 
Few people eousider, when they groau at 
the subscription price of the paper, th at the 
price of a copy is often less than it costs to 
issue it. Wore it not for the space paid for 
by advertisers, few papers could be furnished 
at present prices. So great is the income 
from advertisements that in the judgement 
of at least one journalist, it is not impossible 
1 hat great dailies in the future will be issued 
aud circulated free to all but advertisers who 
will pay the whole coat. First-cluss weekly 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
papers for the household and farm give com¬ 
paratively little space to advertisements; the 
return from this source being proportionally 
small, they depend for revenue largely on 
subscriptions. The Rural New Yorer gives 
its readers 16 pages weekly, oue-fourth of 
which, on an average, it devotes to adver¬ 
tisements. In some issues more, in some less 
will be found. To many, these are said to be 
as valuable as any part of the paper. Indeed, 
if the papers did not insert, advertisements, 
the public would be forced to get the infor¬ 
mation now so furnished at considerable cost 
of time and money. 
Some idea of the cost of publishing such a 
paper as the Rural may be had if one will 
estimate the value of the white paper upon 
which it is published, aud the cost of compo¬ 
sition, printing, folding and mailing alone. 
But these are common to all papers. The 
Rural New Yorker, however, is under a 
much heavier expense than other agricultural 
and horticultural journals for several reasons. 
1st. Its illustrations are for the most part 
original. It is therefore obliged to employ 
its own artists—always one, sometimes two ! 
and occasionally three—and the engravings 
ai’e still to be executed at a heavy cost. 
Those stereotyped engravings which "go the 
rounds” are purchasable for a small sum. und 
really cost less than it would to fill tho space 
they occupy with a high grade of original 
reading matter. 3d. There is no other agri¬ 
cultural journal (so far as we are aware) that 
pays regular or occasional contributors any¬ 
thing like the sum for their contributions. 3d. 
Its Experiment Grounds are a very heavy 
item of expense, which other journals 
are not subjected to. The experiments there 
conducted require careful supervision and ex¬ 
pensive aids of labor fertilizers and machin¬ 
ery. Then, few of these experiments, though 
all are necessary, eventuate in anything valu¬ 
able except in knowledge. 4th. Its annual 
free seed distribution, for which this year 
preparation will be made for 162,000 packages, 
large and small, involves heavy expenses for 
material aud labor, not to speak of the cost of 
the rare or new kinds of seeds offered. We 
know of no other similar publication that 
undertakes such work or incurs such expenses, 
in kind or amount. And yet. the Rural does 
not complain, by any means. On the eon- 
trai-y, it rejoices in the good work and its 
abundant approval by its friends. It, expects 
one day, though not sure ol‘ it,, to make a profit 
from the outlay. Wo hope that, in any event, 
the subscribers will in the aggregate reap a 
much larger reward from it than the pub¬ 
lisher. 
ANECDOTE*OF AY EBSTER. 
It is said, though we never saw’ it in print, 
that Daniel Webster was once suddenly called 
to plead in court for one of the parties to a 
suit, and before he had really made their ac¬ 
quaintance sufficiently to know which was 
plaintiff and which was defendant. But he 
started off with a few points of the case, aud 
was warming up eloquently, as he supposed, 
for his client, when he felt a nervous and then 
a vigorous jerking at, liis coat-skirts. He 
paused and bent his head down to hear his 
client’s whispered appeal: “ What on earth do 
you mean ? I’m not the plaintiff; I’m the de¬ 
fendant in this action. Do you want to get mo 
Convicted ?” Webster quietly took in the situ- 
tion, and, as usual, was equal to it. Without 
in the least bet raying himself or his client, he 
resumed, ns if without interruption; “Such, 
your Honor aud Gentlemen of the .Jury, is the 
liue of argument and appeal by which our op¬ 
ponents would mislead you, cheat justice and 
punish my client. But”—and then he pro¬ 
ceeded to unfold his theory of the defense as 
he proposed to conduct tho case in the master¬ 
ly way so characteristic of the great orator 
and jurist. The masters of others must first 
be master of himself. 
CONDUCTED BY MISS RAY CLARK. 
MY MOTHER’S BIRTHDAY. 
I did not say much, aud perhaps— 
But uo—you know mo well. 
Words oftenest, fall us, when wo would 
Our doopi si feelings toll. 
Through eyes that, ached with scalding: tears, 
I saw the whitening hair. 
And thought how all tho changing years 
Had left their Impress there. 
How sorrow, joy, and longings high 
Had each their own full day, 
How many withered hopes uow lie 
Across The struggling way, 
How sacrifice of self had oit 
The willing shoulders pressed, 
How every trouble ebbed less sore. 
On the dear faithful breast. 
Words fail again. I cannot tell 
One half. But In my heart 
The whole Is welded with strong chains 
Death could not tear apart. 
That we may not be severed long, 
Is still m.v fervent prayer; 
I do not fear or doubt, but we 
“ Shall know each other there.” 
As soon believe the world is dark 
Because we close the eye. 
As to torment ones self with doubt 
That lop# run, ever die, 
Impossible! And should you be 
The first to cross the bar. 
May this faith help the anguish— 
My owu ou-guidltig star. 
Would that the wealth of worlds 
Were mine, to offer to thy sight. 
’Twould hardly tell my love for you, 
My mother own—good night. 
Eva Ames. 
WHAT CAN AYE GIRLS DO? 
This is a question of vital importance to us 
who stand on the threshold of life. No one 
asks what young men can do, for they are ex¬ 
pected to be energetic and courageous, and 
exert themselves to perform great and uoble 
deeds. If they despond (ugly say that all the 
professions are already crowded, and our 
country is inundated by ministers, lawyers 
and doctors, they are assured that they must 
“go up higher;” and there are empty places 
up stairs. But is there not room up stairs for 
girls, too < Suppose that the schoolrooms arc 
supplied with teachers, the millinery and 
dressmaking shops are crowded with busy 
fingers, and the sewing-machines have all the 
girl-power that is needed to supply the de¬ 
mand, and all the usual avocations of female 
labor arc crowded with applicants; shall the 
girls fold their hands, and think there is noth 
ing in this wide world for them to do 1 No! 
Let them flud W01’k. Let them resolve to de¬ 
vote themselves to some task, and make it a 
success. If the well trod paths are crowded, 
lot them make new ones—there will be plenty 
to follow after. 
Girls have brains, and they are endowed by 
nature with ns many faculties and as much 
energy as the “lords of creation.” There is 
no need of bowing our heads in humility to 
any man. The great trouble is that it. is hard 
to face public opinion. Girls have been reared 
to think that they are weak, clinging, depend¬ 
ent objects, that ought to lie duly grateful to 
the man that condescends to smile upon them 
or noti-,e them with favor. We are poetically 
compared to the vine that twines itself around 
the majestic tree for support and protection. 
That sounds very well, but in sober prose tho 
vine is generally a good deal stronger than the 
tree, and is a shield and support against, 
adverse winds and storms. Marriage is gen¬ 
erally considered the chief aim of every girl. 
That glorious feat accomplished, her whole 
being, as well as name, is merged into noth¬ 
ingness. She is a perfect cypher in life. 
Every girl can get married if she chooses, 
but some have an intuitive sense of the kind 
of person they would choose for a life long 
companionship, and prefer to remain free and 
preserve their own identity rather than to be 
perfectly annihilated by a union with one 
they do not anti never can love. AVhnt then? 
Oh! she is an old maid! That dreadful old 
maid! I wonder which is preferable—a mar¬ 
ried woman who has to patch, darn, sew on 
buttons, make butter, bread, bake and scrub 
and work ber fingers nearly off to make a 
husband comfortable and his home pleasant 
when he sees fit to favor it with the light of 
his countenance, or to be independent, go and 
come when she pleases, rest when weary, 
sing and laugh when merry, and take 
care of herself as she chooses? Girls have 
dine this aud been happy and respected. Had 
Florence Nightingale been tied down to a 
family and a husband could she have become 
an angel of mercy and accomplished the great 
work of humanity which has decked her brow 
with the unfading wreath of glory ? Could 
Haunab Moore have immortalized her name 
had she been swallowed up in a union with a 
husband? Aud our own Mattie Davidson, 
who took her life in her hamls aud went as a 
ministering spirit to the malarious Valley of 
the Mississippi to alleviate the misery of 
thousands of sufferers; had she been a married 
woman she would just have had to stay at 
home and mend her good man’s coat or shirts 
instead of being a public benefactress. Time 
forbids further enumeration of female energy, 
courage and benevolence performed by women 
who ere in a state of single blessedness. 
Few are the laurels assigned to married 
women. They may twine crowns for their 
husbands, who are willing to wear them, aud 
perhaps really think they deserve them, and 
never refuse to have their wives make martyrs 
of themselves for their sakes. But what do 
they render in return for this devotion? 
Allow you to wear their name, provide clothes 
if you cannot earn them yourself, and bread 
and butter; and if yon are real good, a few 
sweetmeats occasionally. This is a flatter¬ 
ing picture for our future, and who dat e say 
it is not true to life? Is this to be the eud of 
our hopes, ambitions, and toilsome hours of 
study? Is this all that we girls have to look 
forward to for our future happiness? Is our 
school-life only a preparation for lengthening 
our shoulders to bear the yoke of matri¬ 
mony? Our future is now before ns. Now 
we can do as we please. In this world there 
is room for all to work. Labor will not be 
brought to our hands. AY hat then ? Find it. 
We are not obliged to tread the same paths 
in which our grandmothers walked. They 
were rugged ways. 
All over Christendom arc openings, if a 
woman is free from incumbrances. Hospitals 
in every country need capable, efficient nurses. 
The West presents unlimited space for the 
development of enterprise. Good women are 
wanted everywhere. Girls can do a thousand 
things to make the world better for their 
hading lived in it, if they only have the de¬ 
sire. and determine to do it. But they must 
lie patient, and not. m despondency fasten 
shackles on their own hands. I do u> t under¬ 
value home, or home influences. Family ties 
are strong, and affection’s chain is not easily 
broken. If duty calls to remain at home, 
there we will gladly stay with our loved ones, 
and administer to tneircomfort; but if we are 
not needed there, we will do our next best; 
and. with our hard-earned diplomas in our 
hauds, we will try aud illustrate what girls 
can do, and endeavor to make our mark. 
Still, if our courage and independence should 
alike fail us, we may with St, Haul conclude 
“that, they who marry do well,” but we really 
believe that wo can do better. s H. R. 
MOTHER’S DRAAVER. 
My old friend, Mattie Hill, is a sort of orig¬ 
inal in mauy things. Dropping into her house 
one afternoon, I fomid her seated before a 
small bureau, in the top drawer of which she 
was searching for something. “ I dodeclare,” 
she exclaimed, turning round in her chair as 
1 sat. down, “ if ever there was the like of such 
a family of children! My boys have each and 
every one of them trunks or boxes in their 
rooms to hold everything they wish to keep, 
audyetjxjor me cun never huve a corner to 
call my own Just look at this! here is Mar¬ 
tin’s new knife in this corner for safe-keeping, 
and Silas has also deposited his herd book 
where he registers the calves he feeds.” 
To be sure, the book was only a memoran¬ 
dum account- took of some maker of farm 
machinery; but in its diary department were 
such distinguished names .is Lord Angus, 
Dick Swiviller, Limping Jim. Mary Jane, 
Cherry, Fancy, Snowflake, and so on, show¬ 
ing ah interest, in stock raising that promised 
well for the future of the lively boy-owner. 
“Here,” sue continued, “is’ the last prize- 
card that, Jimmie took at school, and his uow 
lead pencil, and so on. till my drawer, where 
1 like to find everything in its place, looks like 
a museum.” Ann my frienrf looked at me 
with such a comical expression of vexation 
that 1 could not help laughing. 
“Did you never think,”said I, “that it is 
one of t he sweetest compliments that could be 
jaid to you as a mother, that your children’s 
ifctle treasures are considered to be in the best, 
place w hen nearest to mother's choice things ? 
l\ lien your children are grown and gone, you 
w ill miss these little signs that mother fills a 
place in their hearts that no other human 
ncing can. Annoying as these things may lie 
sometimes, there is a touch of deep human af¬ 
fection in such manifestations, if we only’ 
interpret them rightly." u. c. u 
