614 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
“ tempers the wind to the shorn lamb” a drenty 
waste of yellow-mottled skin upon which to ex¬ 
periment; on his body he wore a cotton shirt, 
and stretched straight and taut across the pit of 
hts stomach, he wore a brass watch chain. Over 
all. like the mantle of Charity, was strapped 
a green blanket. Thus attired, he resembled a 
settled melancholy r or n god ot bile from a dyspep¬ 
tic's tnfbrno, Nevertheless, he could travel from 
forty to sixty miles a day, luhning alongside the 
sledge.” 
Ve*etnriRiitMi», the Radical Cure of Intemperance. 
By Harriet P. Fowler. New York: L. M. Hol¬ 
brook. . 
It has long been evident that something beyond 
moral suasion Is necessary to forward the cause of 
temperance. Appeals In the form of tracts and 
lectures, warning people of the sin and folly of 
drunkenness, are well enough in their way. but 
unless supplemented by something more practical, 
the convert Is apt to backslide. For some little 
time the question of diet In Its relation to Intem¬ 
perance has attracted considerable attention, and 
in the patnpblet under notice the author proposes 
both the prevention and euro of Intemperance by 
the exclusion of meat as an article of diet. Even 
those who are not at all Interested to this reform 
will find much matter for instruction in “Vege¬ 
tarianism,” the tables showing me nutriMve prop¬ 
erties of dlfferenc kinds of food eggs, beans, peas, 
lentils, etc.—alone bring worth more than the 
price of the book. 
A Summer Jaunt Through ilie Old World 
by the Tourjee Educational Party ot 1378. By 
Ldthjcu L. Holder. Boston: Lee & Shepard. 
There Is no dearth of books ot European travel, 
and possibly ihfs latest, contribution lo that class 
of literat ure may be regarded by some as superflu¬ 
ous. In spite, however, ot the. tact that this book 
does not supply an aching void, there Is much in 
its pages to instruct and amuse the reader. It 
consists of a full narrative of the places visited by 
the Educational Parry,” and an account of them 
adventures. Statistics are given when necessary, 
and also full descriptions of places and buildings 
of historic Interest, art galleries and museums. 
There are some thirty odd illustrations, which 
serve not only to embellish the book, but also t o 
make the text more clear. 
Summer and Ils nt*ca*rs. By James C. Wilson. 
M. D. Published by Lindsay Bkikestou, Philadel¬ 
phia. 
In this, the third volume of the American Health 
Primer series, the author treats of the various Ills 
Incident to summer, the best methods of cure, and 
points nut how most oi the diseases peculiar to the 
warm season can be avoided if people will only 
exercise a little care. Sunstroke, summer fflar- 
rhcea and dysentery, cholera-lnianium, summer 
and autumnal fevers, colds, hay asthma and the 
summer diseases o£ the skin are among the sub¬ 
jects which receive the author’s attention. As the 
book Is designed tor the laity, it, is written In clear, 
simple style, and a child could understand and fol¬ 
low the directions given. 
The Old French Chateau Near Toulouse. 
Boston: Lorlng. Price, 25 cents. 
We regret to see Mr. Lorlng striving to occupy 
the held of t he New York Ledger. This story Is 
“ blood aDd thunder” to the last extreme; It has 
no literary merits, and, in fact, Is not worth talk¬ 
ing about. 
— ■ ■ i ■ --^4^4- 
MAGAZINES. 
St. Nicholas for September. Contents: Fron¬ 
tispiece—“ Oh, how deep F* Drawn by Addle Led- 
yard; Three Drews and a Crew, Sarah J. Prich¬ 
ard ; Rosebud—Poem. Lucy Larcom; 'the Chateau 
D’Olron, Katharine Cameron ; A soul for Music- 
Picture, drawn by Miss S. 4. Rankin ; Puck and the 
Butterfly—Jingle, Henry Baldwin ; Bob's Mission¬ 
ary Work, Louise Stockton ; Eyebright—Chapter 
X., Susan Coolldge.: A Run after Sword-fish, Alex¬ 
ander Young ; Helmets and violets—Poem, Ruth 
Mariner: Try, Constantina E. Brooks ; lier Fan 
and Her Furs, Constance Marion ; On Wheels, 
John E. Lewees; One Summer Day, A. E. B,; 00 
for Boy-land, Emma Huntington Nason ; A Queen 
—Poem, M. K. Bennett; Gretcleln and her Queer 
Stove, Rosamond Dale Owen ; So Wise—verse, 
Adelaide P. Waters; Pirates of the Chinese Coast,, 
J. O. D.; A Jolly Fellowship. Chapters XXI and 
XXII. Frank R. Stockton; Norah’s oil well, Sophie 
Swett: The Frolicsome Fly, S. F. Clarke; “ But¬ 
tered Pease,” In Choctaw, Frederick Palmer; The 
Story ot a Prince, Paul Fort; For Very LI f ile Folk— 
The Broom Giant, S. J. Slate Pictures, drawn 
by L, Hopkins; Jack-ln-the-Pulplt; The Letter- 
Box ; The Kiddle-Box. 
The October number will open with a short sto¬ 
ry by Miss Louisa Alcott, called “ Jimmy’s Cruise 
In the ‘ Pinatore.’ ” Maurice Thompson will con¬ 
tribute a sketch about bows, arrows and boys, and 
there will be two very fully Illustrated articles— 
one on the Elevated Raliroade or New York; the 
other describing a curiously populated craft, called 
“ Noah s Ark Ashoreboth will bo crowded with 
interesting pictures. Among other handsome en¬ 
gravings In the number will be a large picture by 
Fredericks, illustrating “ Duke Leopold’s Stone,” a 
poem by Mrs. Alary E, Bradley. The frontispiece 
will show some of the sports of “ Witches’ Night,” 
or, “ AH llallow-e’en,” which will be described Hi 
an article by Oliver Thorne. The aerials, “ A Jolly 
Fellowship,” and “ Uyebiight” will be brought to 
a clo3e In this number. 
OFF FOR BOY-LAND. 
Ho! All aboard! A traveler 
Sets Bail from Haby-land! 
Before my eyes there comes a blur, 
But still I kiss my hand, 
And try to smile as off he goes. 
My bonny, winsome boy! 
Yes, bon voyage! God only knows 
How much I wish thee joy. 
Oh, tell me. have ye hoard of him ? 
He wore a sailor’B hat 
All silver-corded round the brim. 
And—stranger e’en than that— 
A wondrous suit of navy-blue. 
With pockets deep and wide; 
Oh. tell me, sailors, tel I me true, 
How fares he on the tide? 
We’ve now no baby in the house; 
'T was but this very morn. 
Ho doffed his dainty "broidered blouse. 
With skirts of snowy lawn ; 
And shook a mass of silken curls 
From off his sunny brow; 
They fret.ted.Mm—" so like a girl’s 1 
Mamma can have them now." 
Ho owned a brand-new pocket-book, 
But that ho could not find; 
A knife and string was all he took; 
What did he leave behind ? 
A heap of blocks with letters gay, 
And here and there a toy ; 
I can not pick them up to-day. 
My heart is with my boy. 
Ho 1 Ship ahoy 1 At Boyhood’s town 
Cast author strong and deep ! 
What 1 tears upon this little gown 
Lett for mamma to keep ? 
Weep not, but smile ; for through the air 
A merry message rings 
“Just sell it to the rag-man there 1 
I've done with baby things! ’’ 
St Sivliolas/or September. 
Contents of tite September Number of the 
Eclectic —Steel Engraving, William Pcnn’aTreaty 
wltbt.be Indians; White Wings, a Yacbling Ro¬ 
mance, by William Black—Cornhlll Magazine; 
Benjamin Frankllu, by Thomas Hughes—con¬ 
temporary Review; The comedle Franchise, by 
41. Franclsque Sarcey— 1 The Nineteenth century; 
Mechanical Chess-Players, by Richard A. Proctor 
—Belgravia Magazine; Some New Rooks-Black¬ 
wood's Magazine; The Mandollnata, by W. W. 
Story—Blackwood's Magazine; Recollections or 
Tbuokeray—Chambers’ Journal; The Colored Man 
in Australia-Fori nightly Review; Wordsworth, 
by Matthew Arnold—Macmillan's Magazine; Food 
and Feeding, by Fir Henry Thomson (Concluded) 
—The Nineteenth C entury; The Milky Way, irom 
the Swedish oi Topclius—Temple Bar; Mademoi¬ 
selle de Mersuc—Chaps. XVI. and XVn. -cornhill 
Magazine; The “Sociology ” of Ants—The Spec¬ 
tator ; The Ballad of the HarmeclJe, by Austin 
Dobson—Belgravia Magazine; Llteraiy Notices; 
Foreign Literary Notes; Science and Art; Vari¬ 
eties, 
Recollections of Th acker ay,— Thackeray was 
born at Calcutta In tell. While still very young, 
lie was sent to England; on the homeward voy¬ 
age be had a peep at the great Napoleon In his 
exile-home at St. Helena. He received Ids edu¬ 
cation at the Charterhouse School and at Cam¬ 
bridge, leaving the latter without a degree. His 
fortune at this time amounted to twenty thou¬ 
sand pounds; this he alter ward lost through nil- ) 
fortunate speculations, but not before he had 
traveled a good deal on the continent, and ac¬ 
quainted himself with French and German every¬ 
day life, and literature. Ills first inclination was 
to rollow the profession of an artist; and curious 
to relate, he made overtures to Charles Dickens 
to Illustrate, his earliest book. Thackeray was 
well equipped both In body and mind when his 
career as an author began; but over ten years of 
hard toll at newspaper and magazine writing were 
undergone before he became known as the author 
of Vanity Fair, and one of the first of living nov¬ 
elists. Tie lectured with fair If not with extraor¬ 
dinary success both in England and America, 
when the sunshine of public fa.vpr had been se¬ 
emed. His career of successful novel-writing ter¬ 
minated suddenly on 24th December, lses, and like 
Dickens, he had an unfinished novel on hand. 
■*»•«*•* 
In dictating to his amanuensis during the com¬ 
position ot the lectures on the Four Georges, he 
would light a cigar, pace the room lor a lew min¬ 
utes, and then resume hts work with Increased 
cheerfulness, changing his position very fre¬ 
quently, so that he was sometimes sitting, stand¬ 
ing, walking, or lying about. His enunclatior 
was always clear and distinct, and his words and 
thoughts were so well weighed that the progress 
or writing was but seldom checked. He dictated 
with calm deliberation, and showed no risible 
feeling even when he had made a humorous 
point, ills whole literary career was one of un¬ 
remitting Industry; he wrote slowly, and, like 
“George Eliot,” gave forth his thoughts In such 
perfect form, that he rarely required to retouch 
his work. His handwriting was neat and plain, 
often very minute; which led to the remark, that 
If all trades failed, he would earn sixpences by 
writing the Lord’s Prayer and the Creed in the 
size of one. Vnltke many men of less talent, he 
looked upon callgraphy as one of the fine arts. 
When at the bight of his fame he was satisfied 
when he wrote six pages a day, generally working 
during thB day, seldom at night. An Idea which 
would only be slightly developed In some of his 
shorter stories, he treasured up and expanded In 
some of his larger works. * * * 
The personal appearance of Thackeray has been 
frequently described. Hus nose, through an early 
accident, was misshapen; It was broad at the 
bridge, and stubby at the end. He was near¬ 
sighted ; and his hair at forty was already gray, 
but massy and abundant; his keen and kindly 
eyes twinkled sometimes through and sometimes 
over hts spectacles. A friend remarked that what 
he “should call the predominant expression of 
the countenace was courage—u readiness to face 
the world on Its own terms.” unlike Dickens, he 
took no regular walking exercise, and befiig re¬ 
gardless of the laws of health, suffered In conse¬ 
quence. In reply to one who asked him If he had 
ever received the best medical advice, his reply 
was: “ What is the use of advice If you don’t fol¬ 
low It ? They tell me not to drink, and 1 do drink. 
They tell me not to smoke, and I do smoke. They 
tell me not to eat, and I do eat. In short, I do 
everything that I am desired not to do; and there¬ 
fore, what am I to expect?” And so one morning 
he was found lying, like Dr. Chalmers, In the 
sleep of death with his arms beneath his head, 
after one of his violent attacks of Illness; to be 
mourned by bis mother and daughters, who 
formed his household, and by a wider public be¬ 
yond, which had learned to love him through his 
admirable works .—Eclectic for September. 
-« »• 
COENS. 
Corns may he developed on any part of the 
body where pressure and rrictlon exist, to an Inor¬ 
dinate degree: thus they may be occasioned by 
too tight or too loose a shoe ; In the one case being 
due to pressure, in tbe other to motion; and they 
are most actively produced when both causes are 
combined. They are met with most frequently ou 
the feet, on account of the unpllant. nature of the 
coverings of those organs: between the toes from 
pressure only; and on other parte of the body 
from distortion. Corns arc of four kinds, viz.: 
clavus (bunion), callus, soft and the common corn. 
The. callus may he softened by moisture, as by 
soaking in warm water; by the application of a 
starch or soap poultice: and being softened, the 
thickened cuticle may be thinned by scraping 
with a blunt knife. When the thickening has 
been reduced sufficiently. It may be kept down 
by dally washing with soap. Clavus and the soft, 
corn require removal wllb t he knife: and in effect¬ 
ing this purpose their mode of formation Is lo be 
borne in mind, if the soft corn be of moderate 
size, a single pinch with a pair of pointed scissors 
will effect Ite removal, while the hard callus will 
require a patient digging With the point of a not 
too sharp knitc, After the operation, the corn 
should be covered with a piece of soap plaster for 
a day or two, and a perforated plaster of buff 
leather subsequently worn to keep off pressure 
from the center of the growth, The removal of a 
callus or soft corn may be very conside rably aided 
by the use of the compound tincture of iodine 
painted on the swelling. When the corn Is pain¬ 
ful, this application subdues Its sensibility and 
renders the cuticle dry and friable, and easy of re¬ 
moval by means ol a hie. Soup and water, so 
useful to the skin in many ways, are especially 
seivlceable to feet afflicted with corns and partl- 
bularly when they are soft corns. Dally washing 
with soap and the subsequent interposition of a 
piece of cottonwool between the Lues, may he con¬ 
sidered as a cure for soft corns; and Ur these cases 
the skin may be hardened by sponging with spirits 
of camphor after the washing. '1 he cotton wool 
should be removed at night, and this is a good 
time tor the use of the camphorated spirit. 
.- 4 -*-*- 
BRIC-A-ERAC. 
NEVER DESPAIR. 
I fain would impress ou 
The weary uud sad 
The truths of a lesson 
In metaphor clad. 
Still in file’s journey the 
Bravest do best— 
Still on life’s journey 
We hanker for rest. 
Innocent merriment 
Shortens the mile. 
Try the experiment 
Once in a while. 
Face your foes fearlessly : 
" Never say die”— 
Trials, tak’n fearlessly. 
Lightsome y fie. 
Our tear drops are lenses 
That magnify ills; 
They cozen onr tenses 
’Till hillocks »eun bills 
And faces grow wrinkled. 
While tresses with gray 
Grow speedilj sprinkled 
Whtn woe has her way. 
Horrors muy haunt you. but 
Foul may grow lair; 
Dangers may daunt you, but 
“ But never despair," 
Verily, verily, 
J udge as you may, 
He who toils merrily 
Carries the day. [Catholic Herald. 
CHAPTER ON FLUES. 
You can sometimes catch a base ball on a fly. 
The most Irritating fly Is the Spanish fly. 
The Latin name for a certain kind of fly is tern- 
pus Jugit. 
The fly is an author. Sec “ Flies on Horses.” 
You can always, at this season of the year find 
files on toast at. the restaurants. 
Files are always on hand early in the morning. 
You have all seen a kite fly. 
Longfellow speaks of a fly as a bird when he 
says, “ Fly, proud bird of ireedom." 
Some people employ the blind to keep flies from 
the room. 
You can draw a fly with a_drop or molasses bet¬ 
ter than with a crayon. 
I have often seen flies hand-cuffed. 
The spider is the only creature which Invites the 
fly to his parlor. 
The only popular fly—“ Shoo-fly.” 
Flies are like rivers. They are often dammed. 
A conjugal quarrel Is a promot er of hair flies. 
Stage flies are painted. 
A fly Is conservative in reading; he always sticks 
to his own paper. 
Butchers and grocers exhibit flics In their win¬ 
dows. 
You can’t drown a fly in the milk of human 
kindness. 
Although flies don't stay long In one place, they 
always carry a trunk. 
There are musical flies. People often speak of 
that base fly. [ Boston Transcript. 
THE SAME OLD STORY. 
She read until she could not see— 
Did “ Iv.mhoe” e'er weary !— 
Then dropped the book upon her knee 
And said her life was dreary. 
“ From day to day 1 still must tread 
Tbe same dull round of duty— 
Of darning socks and baking bread. 
Without one gljmpro of beauty. 
From week to week my landmarks are 
A sermon dull on Sunday, 
On Friday night the Pfiiruvillo Star. 
The weekly wash on Mon day. 
And, oh ! there's never a line of grace, 
And never a hint of glory.” 
She sighod and lengthened her pretty f aoe— 
“ It’s always the same old story:” 
She dried her eyes and curled her hair, 
Aud went to the conference meeting— 
From the garden gate to the vestry stair 
The self-same words repeating. 
At last the final hynm was sung. 
And all the prayers were ended. 
When one from the doorway crowd among 
Her homeward steps atteuded. 
They left at length the village street, 
And sprang the low wall over. 
To cross through Captain Peaslee’s wheat 
And Deacon Bascombe's clover. 
The n.oou seemed shining overhead 
To flood their path with glory; 
They whispered low, but what they said 
Was—only the same old story! 
[Cambridge Tribune. 
The Ways to Sfku, Tailor.—T he accommodat¬ 
ing nature and capacity of theorfhography that the 
savants of England and America are seeking to re¬ 
form, are astonishingly Illustrated In the numter 
of different ways in which it is possible to spell the 
name of the artist who makes our clothes, the 
knight of the goose and shears: 
Tailor, taylor, talor, telglrlor, thalor, tliailor, 
thuylor, ph'.halor, pblbullor, phtliaylor. phtheigh- 
lor, taileur, tayleur. t.aleur, fliaieur, iballeur, thay- 
leur, t.elghleur, pbthaleur, phthaileur, pbtbayleur, 
phthelghleur, lalour, tallour, taylour, thalour, 
tballour, tlioylour, te'ghlour, phthalour, phthatl- 
our. phthaylour, phlheigh'or, talar, tailor, taller, 
tallur, tallyr, taylur, taj'ler# tayltr, taylur, taylyr, 
telgb 1 ar, telghler, telg h lir, telghlur, Udglriyr, thalar, 
thaler, thallr, lhalur, thalyr, phtlndar, phthailar, 
plirhaylar, phtlmlcr.phtliallr, plitbulur, phthalyr, 
phthaillr, phthuilur, phthallyr, phtliajTlr, phthay- 
lur.phthay lyr, phtheighlar, phtbelghler, phthelgli- 
llr, phthelghlur, plithclghlyr, thaylar, thayler, 
tfinyllr, thaylur. tha.vlyr, thallar. t,halier, thatllr, 
thallur. thallyr, talUr, theighlar, theighler, tbeigh- 
lir, theighler, thclghlur, tlielgliiyv, I,heigh lour, 
thelghleur .—Trou Tunes. 
A MIDSUMMER IDYL. 
Thou art so near and yet so far, 
O filmy, pale musquito bar ! 
In silent watches of tho night 
When owlets moan and bats disport 
And cats upon the woodshed court, 
We stretch our hau ls to thoo bo white 
To pluck thee ’round us all about. 
Lest flics blaspheming And us out 
By dawning morning light. 
Thou art so near and yet so far, 
Coquettish, vainmusquito bar! 
Some nail hath caught theo on the floor— 
Perchance some hook upon the wall 
Imi >edes thy graced ul, sheltering fall; 
Yet when tho dreary night is o’er 
SVe find theo plastered ou the bed 
Entwined about our feet and head— 
O clinging, gauzy bore! 
A True Gentleman.— *' A beg your pardon,” 
and with a smile and a touch of his hat, Harry 
Edmon handed to an old man against whom he 
accident ly stumbled, the cane which he had 
knocked from his hand. "I hope I did not 
hurt you. We were playing too roughly.” “Not 
a bit,” said the old man, cheerily. “ Boys will he 
hoys, and It's best they should be. Y'ou didn’t 
harm me.” “ I’m glad to hear itand lifting his 
hat again Harry turned to Join the playmates 
with whom he had been frolicking at the time of 
the accident. “ What do you raise your hat to 
that, old fellow for?” asked Ills companion, 
Charles Gray. “ He’s only Giles, the huckster.” 
“Thatmakes no difference,” said Harry. “The 
question Is not whether he Is a gentleman, but 
whether I am one.” 
BEE-CAUSE. 
A bee flow out on the sunny air, 
By a bo.v so blithe and young. 
Who laughed and screamed without a care. 
And would not hold Ms tongue. 
The scene then changod; with sob and shriek 
The vault of hea ven rung; 
And homeward flew tho bee so meek, 
While the small boy held his stuug. 
Marathon. Independent. 
One day Billy and Sammy were playing by a 
mud-hole, and Billy he said: “ Now, Sammy, les 
play we was a barnyard; you be the pig, and lie 
down and woller, and I'll be a bulk and belier 
like every thing.” So they got down on their hands 
and knees, and Sammy he went In the dirt and 
wallowed, while Billy bellowed like distant thun¬ 
der. Blmeby Sammy be came up muddy—you 
never saw such a muddy little fellow—and he said: 
“Nowyou’Ubetheplg, and let me belier.” But 
Billy he said: “ 1 ain’t a wry good pig except for 
dinner, aud It’ll be time 'nuff for you to belier 
when yor mother sees yer close.” 
It occurred to one or two editors in the West, 
who had quarreled, that a reference to Ms adver¬ 
sary's lire would prove telling, aud he launched It 
off accordingly. "As for our contemporary,” he 
wrote, " what can be expected from a mau who 
five years ago was peddling around with a mule, 
and an 111-condlUoned beast at that?” Uls rival 
did not deny It. •* Our contemporary,” he wrote In 
his next number, “sayu that live years ago we 
were peddling around with a mule, and an Id con¬ 
ditioned beast at that. Ho is quite right. We were 
