252 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
APRIL 44 
present a pleasing front to the heiress, since 
the captivation of her heart was a satisfying 
retaliation upon the innocent cause of his 
vexed spirit. 
So the porter’s announcement of a visitor 
was received with one of his must affable 
smiles, which died as suddenly, when the gold¬ 
en opportunity entered, and he found himself 
face to face with bisdeserted sweetheart, com¬ 
pletely transformed from the petite and simple 
of shortskirts and sun-bonnet, to the finished 
elegance of city attire. 
Ah! so glad to see you first, Henry. I hur¬ 
ried here by the second train, calculating that 
your father would be away at the stock meet¬ 
ing just about the time I arrived. And I 
don’t suppose you have said anything about 
me yet?” she exclaimed, taking a long breath 
of relief, and then suspending it in eager ex¬ 
pectation of his probable answer. 
Here was a dilemma, and the heiress might 
come in at any moment and she was not likely 
to fall in love with him in the presence of an¬ 
other woman whose beauty was likely to blind 
her with envy and prejudice even against his 
own prepossessing appearance. 
Now that her piquant girlishness, which 
only excited his playful fancy, had bloomed 
forth in the mature grace and self-possession 
of a society woman, the lover suddenly realiz¬ 
ed that he loved, and that it would require 
all the persuasions of self-interest to deceive 
himself as well as her. 
He had recovered from bis surprise suffi¬ 
ciently to ask guardedly, “Suppose that I 
haven’t, what then?” 
“Then, I hope that you will not let me take 
that painful alternative with your father 
which ^threatened so foolishly; and I will 
wait to hear you announce our engagement. 
I know he will be more pleased with that than 
the lawyer I should otherwise send.” 
Anger would have prompted him to open 
the door for the egress of the simple country 
girl. But her whole appearance, attitude,and 
tone, advised gentler measures as the easiest 
method of dealing with a conscious master. 
Whatever he did must be done quickly, for 
her meeting with the momentarily expected 
heiress must be prevented at all hazards. 
“You do not love me. You never did, or 
your lips could not frame such an insult to my 
honor,” he said reproachfully. 
“But a woman must guard her own in time,” 
she remonstrated mildly, looking more beau¬ 
tiful iu her air of commanding superiority 
subdued by that embarrassment which follows 
the consciousness of having done a possible in¬ 
justice. “What would you have me do?” 
“Ho back at once and wait. As sure as 
Spring will come again and Summer, so will 
the lover,” he replied softly, conscious that he 
had gained an advantage, and was using it 
with his usual happy, uncompromising art¬ 
fulness. The resources of language were al¬ 
ways reaping fortunate events for him—per¬ 
haps, he might get the heiress and be the lover 
too. 
But the sudden flush in her cheeks showed 
that she understood more than be wished. 
“Your promises are more presumptuous 
than definite. Lovers are not always hus¬ 
bands,” she added with rising indignation. 
He knew then that one little game—the 
dearest, though not the richest—was up. But 
selfishness is seldom dispossessed. Even while 
he contemplated, iu confused regret, the loss of 
this woman's love, his back-bone was straight¬ 
ened with another prospect. And under 
such consoling circumstances, when one kind 
of game escapes, it is the most, natural thing 
to send it to the warmest quarter known in 
tradition. 
This was just the place where Harry Glen¬ 
dale sent his beautiful visitor in so many fine 
words. But the lady evidently did not com¬ 
prehend any language outside of her simple 
dictionary, when she persisted in boring him 
with bis vaunted loyalty. 
He would have tested his knowledge of wom¬ 
an’s nature, at which the average man stops 
—to let a woman have her say, and she will be 
vanquished iu her own exhaustion—and list¬ 
ened patiently in the confidence of a finally 
peaceful riddance. But a man can’t help put¬ 
ting in those parentheses which prevent a 
wornau from reaching the exhaustive period. 
And Harry Glendale’s parentheses, as his face 
assumed more and more the inside color of a 
volcano, were of that liquid sarcasm which 
never fails to kindle. 
What wonder that the sparks flew back to 
him! ADd that, under the singeing of well- 
merited rebuke, and tbe dread of f urther ex¬ 
posure by the return of his father or his ex¬ 
pected ward, the victimized lover was in that 
numb state of despair which needs but a little 
change—the noise of footsteps, for instance— 
to rouse it to any hazardous effort of escape 
or self defense. • 
That change came The door opened, and 
the spell bound lover no Rooner saw his father’s 
polite obeisance to the lady’s stiff acknowledg¬ 
ment, than be grasped his hat and started for 
“a ruined tower,” indeed! Thus, our monoton¬ 
ous tasks were lightened by the play of 
fancy; thinking less of ourselves and our 
privations, tbe burdens were eased, rough 
places made smooth. A blessing for him who 
created them, as well as the one who made 
them familiar to ns as household words. 
CORA.. 
the door, saying with a hard, livid stare at his 
former sweetheart: 
"I sent you awhile ago to the devil. Now, 
if you wont go, I will.” 
“I have been there this long while. Please 
introduce him,” she replied, turning to the 
horrified senior, with a nod at the junior. 
“What do you mean, you young scape¬ 
grace, to insultmy ward, Miss Furness? Down 
on your knees!’’ thundered the banker,pushing 
his son with a desperate grip from the door. 
There was a stupid, helpless stare in the 
younger Glendale’s countenance; and Miss 
Furness first broke tbe painful silence with 
still more painful developments. 
“Your sou’s kuees look awkward in that 
position, Mr. Glendale, as I had opportunity 
to observe duriDg his first experiments before 
a simple country girl, to whom he is hopelessly 
attached ” 
“Yes, I am,” vehemently interrupted tbe 
culprit, mistaking, in his confused mental 
CONDUCTED BY EMILY MAPLE. 
A FARMER’S DAUGHTER’S DOMESTIC 
REVERIES. 
I felt quite dull and miserable after the 
washing yesterday. It seemed as if my back 
had a “crick” in it that wouldn’t go away. 
The clothes were not hard to wash; but the 
Arrangement of Flowers for a Company Dinner. 
state,her last words for propitiatory overtures, 
“and you know I am telling the truth now," 
he added with desperate sincerity. 
“Precisely on that aecouut allow me to 
draw from your bank the funds w T hicb, un¬ 
fortunately for him, makes me one of those 
heiresses be so much despises. I desire to oc¬ 
cupy our town residence the coming Winter, 
and need funds to carry on the work of reno¬ 
vation. 1 have engaged the lawyers Bond 
and Muir to collect all that is due me from 
your house. Mr. Glendale, your son will 
probably soon realize that it was more than a 
debt of butter and eggs he might have can¬ 
celled with an honorable love.” 
With a pleasant smile the heiress and coun¬ 
try sweetheart swept out, leaving father and 
son staring after her in blank dismay. 
NOTES AND COMMENTS. 
I once knew of a rick-rack dress sailing into a 
fair under false colors,so to speak. This touches 
upon a subject which is a growing evil, and 
might be exposed in the “Eye-Opener,” as it 
surely comes under the head of “frauds.” We 
were present at a County Fair in Vermont 
last September, where the majority of articles 
exhibited in Floral Hall were merely purchases 
made from distant cities, or gifts sent from 
friends there. Some of the needlework was 
done in the convents in Canada, the name of 
the purchaser being attached to the article as 
if it was their own hand-work. Is this right 
or honest? Thus to defeat tbe aim iu view iu 
offering premiums to encourage home in¬ 
dustry—to send abroad, purchase expensive 
articles and get the award for being able to 
lay out so much money? The award forborne 
industry being thus diverted from its purpose, 
and the simpler efforts of the amateur show, 
if shown at all, to a great disadvantage with 
this skilled labor. Such articles, if needed to 
embellish the hall, should be carried in simply 
for that purpose, and not entered for the 
premiums. 
The discussion in late Rurals on books 
shows how many-sided our intellectual, as well 
as our boddy wants, are. Grand old hymns 
and poems, voicing the enraptured soul flights 
ol humanity, are to our hearts what daj break 
and sunrise are to the world. The lighter 
play of sunbeams and shadows give us the 
wide range in poetry, in works of fiction.it 
seems as if Dickens has created more real folks, 
home folks of strong individuality than other 
authors. Never can we forget tbe amusement 
afforded by a light-hearted member of a family 
circle, which had become depressed through 
adversity, by gayly naming each member ac¬ 
cording to some fancied resemblance to Dick¬ 
ens’s characters, as she was familiar with his 
works, a goodly company she gathered in our 
humble little room. Mr. F.'s aunt, intolerant 
of the childrens’ noise and pretty much every¬ 
thing else, “a legacy indeed," Mrs. Hkewton, 
who was “all heart,” yet so heartless! Mrs. 
Gummidge, with her low spirits, Bma 11 Serv¬ 
ant, our maid of all work. Mrs. Nicolby, her 
sentimental regard for the neighbor who 
“flungcucumbers over thegarden wall to her.” 
Pickwick, devoted to “chops and tomato 
sauce,” so as to send orders forward for 
them when traveling. Traddles, with one 
little article of furniture towards house-keep¬ 
ing; and lastly, Mieawber’s, hope and despair, 
ludicrously appearing iu appeals to friends, 
trouble was no doubt due to the cold weather 
and iunning in and out of doors from the 
steam of tbe kitchen. So 1 sat down quietly 
in the living-room, and looked over the last 
Rural, thinking something might have been 
written that would be useful to my house¬ 
keeping. But Annie L. Jack and all the rest 
of the lady writers seem to fiud things so easy 
and 1 just wondered if they ever had a back¬ 
ache over the wash-tub. I had my feet on 
another chair, and was settled comfortably to 
read when Burt came in from the Post Office, 
“Hello, sis,” be called out. I did not look up, 
for I do hate to be called “sis”; then he threw 
a parcel into my lap, and gave me a wet kiss 
on the cheek, which I promptly wiped off and 
rubbed, while he laughed at me. But the 
package was to “Miss Charity Sweetheart,” 
and proved to be a brand-new calendar—“A 
Household Calendar, by Marion Harland.” 
8 be must be Mrs. Harland, I think, to have 
so much experience and so many wise sayings. 
In tearing off the days past, to get at this 
date in March, I came upon a sentence that 
made me laugh. Right under “baked omelette, 
it read: 
“It is a mercy the Almighty pays us by the 
day an’ week, instid of by tbe job. Tbe 
world does seem to get so rumpled an’ crooked 
some Mondays all the patience an’ elbow 
grease we caq muster won’t rub things 
smooth. There’s nothing for it then, but to 
bold fast to Providence, an’ keep your tem¬ 
per.” 
I wonder who sent it, and the beautifully 
written note that came with it. Father and 
the boys admired Mrs. Harland ever so much, 
and one of the neighbor girls who came in, 
was quite taken with her velvet dress. “Now, 
sis,” says Burt, “you’ve got to cook whatever 
she has down for my birthday,when it comes.” 
“I hope it will be mush and milk, then.” I 
said, “if that is to be a bargain.” So the cal¬ 
endar put us all in a good humor, and I have 
hung it up beside the window, close to the 
box of geraniums, and 1 do not think the un¬ 
known giver will be sorry for sending it, be¬ 
cause it seems to be comlort as well as cook¬ 
ing in its daily lesson. Burt insists we must 
have something for tea out of it, so, as there 
is some cold, boiled rice in the house. 1 will 
cook what is set down for Inauguration Day: 
"Two cups of cold, boiled rice, one table¬ 
spoonful of melted butter, two eggs well 
beaten, one tablespoonful of sugar, a little 
flour and salt to taste, work all together, the 
eggs last.” Just as 1 finish this, 1 will say 
they are cooked iu lard, something like dough¬ 
nuts, and taste quite nice for a change. 
LITTLE ECONOMIES. 
In caring for a large family, how many 
“little leaks” there are to look after! It seems 
as though the housewife must be always look¬ 
ing out for these, or else feel that she is going 
bebind-haud in economy. So much can be 
saved by a little wise forethought, that we do 
not wonder some people remain poor, or in un¬ 
comfortable circumstances all tbeir lives. In 
nature, God never makes anything to be wast¬ 
ed. Each small atom is placed where it does 
the most good. So in the home.a wise economy 
puts everything to its proper use. Nothing is 
thrown out that can help to make a comfort¬ 
able meal; no worn,cast-off clothing is left for 
moths to devour, that could possibly be made 
fit for some poor person, or if too far gone fur 
this use, made over into something pretty or 
serviceable iu another form, such as rugs, 
quilts, etc. All this, of course, takes time and 
ingenuity, but, is not that life best enjoyed 
which gives play to tbe faculties God bestows, 
and makes tbe most of everything? 
SIRS. ,T, E.EATON. 
SOCIAL CHAT. 
Spring sewing 1 that is what has occupied 
my every available moment, for weeks past, 
and it is far from done, for I have so many 
cares and duties that my time at the machine 
is limited iudeed. I always love to get at the 
plain sewing at this dreary season, so I may 
have it out of the way before the pleasant 
weather comes, when I like to spend a good 
share of my time in the open air. 
Yes, I hem my tablecloths, napkins, and 
sheets, on tbe machine, tbougb^ome “fussy 
women” say they should always be done by 
hand, as they iroD better and wear longer 
done thus. But it is not so. If one is a skill¬ 
ful operator,and fastens off the ends well, the 
machine does the work in the best manner. I 
know this from experience, for I was and am 
a good band sewer, and have not operated the 
machine for over 25 years without learning 
something of it. Then, the time it saves, and 
the wear on the nervous system, for of all 
sewing, over-band perhaps excepted,hemming 
is t.he most tedious. 
In making under-clothes, I always finish 
with trimming of some kind, as I think they 
look neater and wear better. We make a 
great deal of different styled crochet trim¬ 
mings, and if marie of linen thread, they wear 
well, I lately got some serpentine braid (not 
rick-rack) aDd my eldest daughter crocheted 
some lovely trimming of it, for skirts and 
drawers. She generally does all the band 
sewing,as she prefers it to running tbe machine. 
Soon house-cleaning will have to be done, 
but I shall wait till it is safe to work with 
open doors and windows, for I do not fancy 
being sick for tbe sake of saying that my 
house-cleaning was done before that of my 
neighbors. 
So many good things came in the Rural of 
March 7—I do enjoy each item so! We had a 
good time over “Old Maids” in Miss Ray 
Clark’s Department, laughing over the de¬ 
scriptions, and tryiDg to find an example for 
each different style. 
I got from a friend I visited last Summer 
her recipe for tea biscuits. I thought them so 
good, and I find it a very reliable one, so I will 
give it to tbe Rural’s many readers. 
TEA BISCUIT. 
Four cups of flour, one and-one half cup of 
$U$wUaneou,$ 
You have no doubt 
found it difficult to 
find a satisfactory- 
soap. This is because 
so many contain free, 
fatty matter or caustic 
alkali, giving them a 
greasy, acrid or irri¬ 
tating character. No 
such experience can 
occur with the Ivory 
Soap, its purity 
(99 A % pure) vouches 
for that. 
Free or charge. A full size cake of Ivory Soap will he 
sent to any one who can not get It of their groeer. II 
six two ceut stamps, to pay postage, are sent to Procter 
<k UauUiie, Cincinnati. please mention tills paper. 
