620 
DEC 3 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
“ A WOMAN’S CROWN OF GLORY. 
“Did it never strike you” said a friend who 
sat brushing her “ wicked splendor of hair,” 
“what a very dusty and unpleasant sort of a 
coronet, a woman’s crown of glory is apt to 
be? A feather duster is cleanly in com¬ 
parison to a woman’s hair that does not re¬ 
ceive the regulation one hundred strokes of 
the brush every day. ” 
“ I have often intended to ask you the 
secret of your glossy locks, ” said I, “and now 
suppose you tell me while I take your brush 
and act as maid.” 
“There is no secret, or if there is it all lies in 
the use of the brush. I know lots of girls who 
go to bed without undoing their hair at night. 
If they have any hair at all at 30, they may 
be thankful. The hair should be released 
from ^all its pins at night, shaken out, and 
vigorously brushed, first one side and then 
the other, beginning with at least fifty strokes 
and increasing. Do the same thing in the 
morning and you will want no other tonic. 
After brushing at night, braid the hair in a 
loose braid. I am never so fatigued as to 
omit this duty. A shampoo once a month 
will be quite in order, and it need not be given 
oftener if you are careful about the brushing, 
and about wearing a dust cap if you have any 
household duties to perform in the way of 
sweeping and dusting. You can hardly act 
as your own barber, and if it is not conven¬ 
ient to secure the services of a professional, 
get some friend, relative or servant, to do it 
for you. Beat an egg thoroughly and rub it 
well into the roots, using a small nail-brush 
for the purpose, and parting the hair strand 
by strand until the scalp is well cleansed; 
then rinse plentifully with lukewarm water. 
If you have hair that is naturally moist, use a 
half teaspoonful each of borax and glycerine 
in several quarts of rinse water; if it is dry 
by nature, use the glycerine only. Wring as 
dry as possible; mop it softly with a towel 
until the moisture is nearly expelled, and then 
brush briskly with a stiff brush. Of course 
all this takes time,” said my friend with a 
dreamy sigh, “and there is nothing I long for 
so much as a maid when this work is to be 
performed.” M. B. 
THE WORLD OF YV OMEN. 
When you come to think of it, the world 
of women is larger than that of men, and 
they are beginning to be heard from too- 
Every day the field of labor for women is 
broadening. In past ages when women 
worked, they did it as the creatures and 
servants of man. Their work did not raise 
them. Now women work, not as slaves, but 
for their own betterment, or for that of loved 
ones depending upon them, and, incredible as 
it may seem, some of them work for the love 
of it. 
Miss Jennie Wehle, the daughter of Mr. 
Charles Wehle, a wealthy lawyer and real 
estate owner, who has a luxurious home in 
Sixty-Sixth Street, New York, is a type¬ 
writer. Much to the dismay of her family 
and society friends, she prefers the life to that 
of being a butterfly of fashion. She studied 
stenography and type-writing with the 
avowed purpose of being independent, and 
after a year’s practice in her father’s office, 
became stenographer of the Lincoln Bank- 
Her father offered her a position in his office, 
believing that she would tir9 of it in a few 
months; whereas the young lady became 
more in love with her profession than ever 
and left the law office for the bank, because 
she felt that as she could have the money 
from her father without working for it, she 
would be more independent in another office. 
This is all very praiseworthy in Miss Wehle, 
but it is to be hoped that many society girls 
will not follow her example in thus robbing 
some poorer girl of much needed employment. 
There is a higher field than stenography and 
type-writing for young ladies who have the 
advantage of wealth and the ability to 
educate themselves for the professions. 
A notable example to young married 
women was that of the wife of an eminent 
New York business man. Although courted 
and petted by society on account of 
her position and, still more, for her brilliant 
mind, instead of spending her time in a frivo¬ 
lous whirl of entertainments and gayety, she 
became interested in the study of medicine, 
entered the New Y ork Medical College and 
Hospital for Women, and took the regu¬ 
lar three years’ course, studying instead of 
dancing until midnight. The wisdom of her 
course was shown shortly after she had 
finished her studies. Reversals in business, 
which, like true love, seldom runs smooth, 
were followed by the failure of her husband’s 
health, and this courageous woman is now 
and prosperous city of Colorado, to which her 
husband was obliged to go for his health. 
To drop to the practical and commonplace, 
I learned last summer of an enterprising New 
Jersey woman wtio ran a butcher route. She 
was the wife of a country butcher, and when 
her husband died, finding herself with several 
children dependent upon her for support, she 
made herself master of the business, hired a 
man to drive the wagon, and makes more 
money than her husband ever did. s. C. 
GOLDEN GRAINS. 
There is comfort, says J. R. Miller, D.D., 
for tired feet in the hope of the rest that is 
waiting. This incessant toil is not to go on 
forever. We are going to a land where the 
longest journey will produce no weariness, 
where “ tired feet with sandals loose may 
rest ” from all that tires. The hope of heaven 
shining in glory such a little way before, 
ought to give us courage and strength to en¬ 
dure whatever of pain, conflict and suffering, 
may come to us in these short days. 
Dean Stanley said that it is very difficult, 
perhaps, to know when we may fairly call any 
event “Providential” or not. But no one can 
have lived to the middle period of human exist¬ 
ence, without seeming to see in his own life how 
curiously one part has fitted into the other, which 
at the time seemed quite unintelligible; how 
opportunities have been offered, on the accep¬ 
tance or rejection of whicii the happiness or 
misery of many years afterward has depended; 
how sins which we thought long buried have 
started again to our remembrance; how good 
actions have brought with them a train of 
blessings, of which, at the moment, we never 
dreamed. 
The common problem, yours, mine, every one’s, 
Is—not to fancy what were lair in life 
Provided it could be—but, finding first 
What may be, then find how to make it fair 
Up to our means—a very different thing. 
—Browning. 
A little bit of patience often makes the sunshine 
come, 
And a little bit of love makes a very happy home; 
A little bit of hope makes a rainy day look gay, 
And a little bit of charity makes glad a weary way. 
Our true knowledge, says Charles Kings¬ 
ley, is to know our own ignorance. Our true 
strength is to know our own weakness. Our 
true dignity is to confess that we have no dig¬ 
nity, and are nobody and nothing in our¬ 
selves, and to cast ourselves down before the 
dignity of God, under the shadow of whose 
wings and in tne smile of whose countenance 
alone is any created being safe. Let us cling 
to our Father in heaven, as a child walking 
in the night clings to his father’s hand. 
You cannot succeed in life by spasmodic 
jerks, said Mr. Beecher. You cannot win 
confidence, nor earn friendship, nor gain in¬ 
fluence, nor attain skill, nor reach position, 
by violent snatches. 
Events^ are often like chestnut burrs. If 
you give them a little frost, the burrs will 
open and show the inside to be a great deal 
better than the outside.. 
The Sunday School Times says that char¬ 
coal and diamond are the same material—car¬ 
bon. One absorbs the light, the other reflects 
it. There are charcoal aDd diamond Chris¬ 
tians. Examine their creeds, they are the 
same; examine their religious experience be¬ 
fore a church committee, they are the same. 
But one is gloomy and the other glistens; one 
is dark, the other is luminous. Arise, shine! 
for thy light is come: this is the message of 
the prophet to Christian men as to Christian 
nations ... 
Domestic Ccottctraj 
CONDUCTED BY MRS. AGNES E. M. CARMAN. 
HOLIDAY TOKENS. 
As the holidays draw near, feminine minds 
are taxed for ways and means to supply the 
loved ones with suitable presents. The days of 
costly gifts, denoting quite as often the giver’s 
pride of money or forced obligation as friend¬ 
ship or love, are happily over. The question 
of the money value of a gift should never be 
taken into consideration, and there are many 
little presents of trifling value in themselves, 
which are highly prized because of the love 
and care which are bound up in them. 
A fancy footstool is a very pretty as well as 
a useful present. Plain wooden frames are 
sold for 30 cents. The legs may be given a 
coat of cherry or walnut stain, whichever 
is preferred. Bluff the top and cover with 
any shade of plush wished^ Qlive plush with 
a cherry frame is very hap 4 ? 9 m 0 - Finish by 
jfyiocpssfplly practicing peffipjnp in a y'ealthy 
placing four crochet balls fj,t pjmlj porpr 
Screens are both ornamental and useful. 
An exceedingly pretty one may be made at 
small expense,of pale green sateen,embroider¬ 
ed with a design of woodbine leaves and ber¬ 
ries, which covers nearly the whole surface. 
Hang it like a banner from a wooden standard, 
similar to the brass ones used for banners. 
Any carpenter will make one. Paint this 
standard in ivory white, with lines of dull 
gold, and you have a really handsome screen. 
A more elaborate one can be made of plush, 
with a brass standard. Peacock blue plush 
painted with a design of trailing arbutus or 
peach blossoms would be very elegant. 
A pretty gift for a gentleman is a tooth¬ 
pick holder. Odo of the prettiest is of olive 
plush and fine gold cord. Cover a piece of 
cardboard six-inches in length by four in 
width, with the plush, lining it with gold- 
colored satin or silesia. In one corner of the 
plush fasten on the cord to resemble a spider’s 
web, making it large enough to reach nearly 
across the plush. On the upper right corner 
fasten a bow of ribbon to match the cord. 
In the lower left fasten the middle of a piece 
of ribbon seven inches long. Tie the two 
ends firmly around a bunch of quill tooth¬ 
picks, and slip three or four under the w eb. 
This may stand on aD easel, or may be hung 
up by a loop of ribbon fastened at the back. 
Many pretty articles can be made from 
ordinary palm leaf fans. They should first 
be steamed to render them pliable. Pretty 
photograph frames are made by covering 
with plush and cutting a space in the center 
for a photograph to be slipped in. Some are 
covered to half their depth with velvet, for 
holding several photographs; others have the 
lower half stuffed to form a pincushion. 
For a pretty wall pocket, bend the edges of 
one of these fans together and lace half-way 
up with narrow ribbons. 
A pretty hair receiver is made by putting 
a pocket of satin across the lower half of a 
small fan, first painting on it some pretty de¬ 
sign, and line with white paper. On the upper 
half paint a cluster of flowers. Gild the 
handle and tie on it a bow of ribbon to hang 
up by. 
Pipe racks are made of them by covering 
with plush and forming a strip of plush into 
loops across the fan, into which the pipes are 
slipped. They are very pretty simply paint¬ 
ed with sprays or clusters of flowers,and hung 
on the wall. 
A pretty tobacco pouch is made of crimson 
satin, cut in points at top and bottom, an 
initial being worked on one side with fine gold 
cord, and the pouch being lined with oil-silk. 
Pretty aprons are always acceptable gifts. 
A very pretty one called the “daisy apron,’? 
is made of dotted Swiss muslin. Make a 
three-inch hem and at the left side, near the 
hem embroider a group of daisies, by cover¬ 
ing the dots with French knots, and making 
the petals with a long loop stitch. Yellow 
daisies with brown centers are pretty, or 
white ones with pale yellow centers. Use the 
wash floss for the daisies. Turn down the top 
two inches and make two shirrs one-half inch 
distant, and run half-inch yellow satin [ribbon 
through, to tie around the waist. The dots 
should be as large as a cfent. 
A handsome pincushion is made of pale 
blue surah satin embroidered with sprays of 
white jessamine and edged with silver lace. 
A dainty little cushion to hang beside the 
dressing-case is made thus: Cover two small 
circles of stiff card-board with silk or satin, 
and put across the one used for the front, a 
band of narrow ribbon. Overhaud the two 
pieces neatly together and on the front em¬ 
broider or paint a spray of flowers. Place a 
full bow of ribbon at the top of the cushion 
and finish with a long loop by which to sus¬ 
pend the cushion. Put the pins in around the 
edge. Pale gold silk decorated with for-get- 
me-nots, would be very pretty for this 
cushion. Margaret percy. 
“TELL-TALES.” 
“Tell tale tit , your tongue shall be slit. 
And all the dogs in our town shall have a 
little bit.' 1 '’ 
What a horrible threat! When we were 
youngsters we believed that this fate really 
overtook “tell-tales,” and many a time when 
we had been guilty of tale-bearing, we would 
tremble for our tongue’s safety. 
If this vile habit, for vile it is, begins to 
show itself in little children, it should be 
steadily battled with; for it is a dangerous 
foe to one’s happiness in after life. What 
more contemptible than the boy or girl, man 
or woman, who goes from one to another, 
gathering and pearing tales, repeating slan¬ 
ders, carrying pews I To §oiqe it is almost a 
second nature; they have allowed the habit 
to grovy ppqn them till they do if without re¬ 
alizing that they are doing it. I remember 
ouce goipg tq my mother payipsr 
‘‘Mamma, Eddie said a bad word—he said 
‘liar.’” 
I can feel even yet how self-righteous I felt 
when I went, saint-like, to report my broth¬ 
er’s wickedness. Mamma was sewing; she 
laid her work in her lap and looked from one 
to the other. How good I felt? How bad he 
felt! She told us how naughty it was to call 
each other hard names; she said he could 
never be a gentleman if he did; then, turning 
to me, she said that I could never be a ladv 
if I told tales. As it was not tbe first time 
that brother had said bad words, she thought 
he needed to be punished, and as it wasn’t my 
first offense in the tale-bearing line, I also 
needed punishment. Accordingly I had the 
same amount meted out to me, as was given 
to him. Did I feel self-righteous now? No 
indeed! I felt like what I was—a sneak! 
There are always two sides to a question. 
To some it is easy not to tell tales, to others it 
is not an easy task to refrain from doing so. 
Some have secretive natures and to them it 
comes natural to keep all they hear within 
themselves. Others are open, frank, and full 
of impulse, and often blurt out things before 
they realize that they are telling what they 
should not. These latter are always getting 
themselves into scrapes from this fault; still, 
they can scarcely be classed as tale-bearers, 
though they may do as much harm. The 
‘tell-tale” is one who makes a practice of 
carrying tales; who does it in a systematic, 
sneaking way, always trying to cover his 
tracks. He comes with: » 
“Give me your word of honor that you’ll 
never tell a living soul, and I’ll tell you some¬ 
thing about A. that you wouldn’t believe him 
capanle of.” 
You, of course, give the promise. You 
hear the news: you ask a few questions, 
you pass a few remarks— You do not 
tell. After a little while you hear that 
you said so-and-so about A. when you really 
never dreamed of saying such a thing. Still, 
come to think of it, you did say when “tell¬ 
tale” came to see you, that you thought cer¬ 
tain things when you heard his tales about A. 
—so it goes. I would rather have a thief in 
my house,—that is, if I had a house,—than a 
mischief-maker. You can lock up your valu¬ 
ables, but you cannot lock up his ears and 
tongue, nor can you always be on guard your¬ 
self. I cannot, I know. My tongue is always 
wagging when it should stay still. Remember 
that— 
‘•Boys flying kites can recall their white-winged 
token, 
But God himself cannot recall a word once 
spoken." 
This recalls to mind the Mythological tale 
of the Barber of Midas. Shall I tell it you? 
Some of my young readers may not have 
read it, so I will. 
Midas was the King of Phrygia. He once 
conferred a favor on Bacchus, the god of 
wine. The god wanted to reward him for so 
doing, so told him to ask anything and he 
should have his desire. Midas wished that 
everything he touched might turn to gold. 
The wish was granted, but as even his food 
changed ’neath his touch he almost starved to 
death. He went to the god and begged that 
his food might be exempt from the change. 
Bacchus sent him to bathe in the Pactolus. 
He then lost his auriferous power in all things 
essential to life, while the sands of the river 
were converted into gold. 
Midas was once called upon to act as um¬ 
pire in a musical contest between Pan and 
Apollo. He decided in favor of Pan. Apollo 
out of revenge turned Midas’s ears into the 
ears of an ass. To hide this terrible deform¬ 
ity Midas wore a large-lobed cap. The bar¬ 
ber whose duty it was to shave him and cut 
his hair, discovered his secret. The poor 
barber was bursting to tell some one, but as 
Midas threatened to kill him if he did, he 
feared to reveal what he had discovered. At 
length the desire to tell it overmastered him, 
so he went and dug a hole in the ground and 
whispered into it, “ King Midas has the ears 
of an ass.” Then he covered tbe hole with 
sods and went back to the palace, feeling bet¬ 
ter for having relieved himself of his secret. 
Presently a great clump of rushes sprang 
up from the sod over the hole that the barber 
had confided to. Every time they swayed to 
and fro in the wind they moaned forth, 
'■'■King Midas has the ears of an ass.” This 
was heard and people carried the news till it 
became known everywhere that the kiDg 
had ass’s ears. Midas out of mortification 
killed himself. Some of the legendssay that 
he also killed the barber—others, however, say 
that the barber escaped. 
This goes to show the light in which tale¬ 
bearing was held even in the old Grecian 
times. Lool? at the misery and suffering 
paused simply because that little barber 
couldn’t hold his tongue) Still, I tnust con¬ 
fess that I always felt sorry for him, for Ptq 
fifrmd | might, have done the same thing. 
DORA PAR'/Ey YROOMAN, 
