Sf 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
Where is your prescription ? What have I taken 
or yours ?” 
“ My prescription, my dear young friend, I gave 
you before l left you here with my hoe; the medi¬ 
cine you have been taking In my place—a health- 
glvlng potion which I should have enjoyed had 1 
not given It up to you. And now, dear sir, 1 will 
tell you frankly, you are rusting out, literally tum¬ 
bling to pieces for want or exercise of both body 
and mind. That Is all, sir. You can follow my 
prescription and be cured, or you can take your 
own way.” 
The young man paid the dollar and went his 
way. Not then could he be cheerful; but after¬ 
wards, when he had allowed reason fair play, and 
had come to prove the life-saving and the new 
life-giving virtues of the doctor’s prescription, he 
came and thanked him. 
they build a bridge over the Atlantic. Allow me 
to kiss you, for I suppose you are still In short 
dresses, and to call myself your friend, 
K. Leschino. 
HANGING BASKETS 
LETTERS FROM THE COUSINS 
THE GROUNDLESS GRIEVING 
There Is no prettier ornament for the parlor or 
sitting rooiffaiirlng the bleak winter months than 
a hanging basket. Plants In any form whether 
cut flowers or living specimens tn pots, when 
tastefully arranged and well grown, always help 
to make a room cozy, and have a cheerful Influ¬ 
ence upon the occupants, but no plant that can be 
grown tn a room can be compared In beauty with 
a thrifty hanging basket, from which vines droop 
In rich luxuriance from all sides. Every member 
of our club, and every cousin whether member or 
not, should have such a basket, and now Is the 
time to prepare It ir they have not already done 
so. The basket Itself need not be expensive. Plants 
will thrive as well In a cheap home-made wire or 
cane basket as In one made of costly china-ware. 
Nor should It be large and bulky ; those ugly things 
called rustic baskets, made of crooked branches 
and painted brown may do for the piazza, but they 
are out of place In the bouse. If a wire basket Is 
used It should first be coated Inside with nice moss 
to hold the soli, and then the soli Ailed In and the 
vines planted. Small vines should be stuck tn 
through the meshes of the wire all around to hide 
the basket and give the whole the appearance of one 
living mass of foliage. The soil should be a mixture 
of leaf mold and garden loam with a little manure 
and sand. It may trouble some of the cousins to 
obtain the very best kind of plants; those who 
have Draeamas, Yuccas and similar plants with 
plenty of all kinds of vines can easily make a 
handsome basket. Tn general choose graceful 
drooping plants In preference to those of a stiff 
growth such as an old Geranium. In the mlddleset 
a tall plant as seen In the engraving and around it 
arrange the others so that the basket will be 
nicely balanced. Fuchsias, Ferns, Verbenas, 
Ivy-leaved Geraniums, vinca, Oxalis, English 
Ivy, Saxifrage, Sedum, Lobelia, Tropuoolum, Ger¬ 
man Ivy, l’anlcum varlegatum and similar plants 
are excellent for baskets. There Is the Inconven¬ 
ience with baskets that, the water runs through 
and wets the floor, this can be avoided by water¬ 
ing at a time of day when tho room is not occu¬ 
pied and then place a tray under the basket till 
all the water has run through. A basket planted 
now will be greatly improved If kept two or three 
weeks hi a greenhouse so as to give the plants a 
good start. Uncle Mark. 
An end, 0 soul, to thy poor wearying- sadness ! 
Christ liketh not to sec then? bathed in tears; 
The Spirit's sonK 18 one of trust and glad ness, 
Not dirgoful moans of melancholy fears. 
Dost thou not know tears are for earth, not heaven 1 
And not earth now, but heaven, is In thy soul; 
Let songs, exultant o’er thy sins forgiven. 
Through all its corridors and arches roll! 
For what is gone weep not, ’tis gone forever; 
Nay, 'tis not gone, but by the Lord redeemed; 
For what is now, or may be, weep thou never, 
Thy spectral ills to Christ have saiutly seemed. 
Think not by team to wash out, sins, thy Savior 
Poured forth not only aacred tears but blood; 
Dost thtuk thou wilt be doing'him a favor— 
To add thy tears to the rich blood of God ? 
Nay, nay, poor heart, by thy continuous weeping 
Thou blindest thee to richer gifts in store; 
Lo! while thou agouizest thus, thou’rt keeping 
Grace-burdened Christ from entering thy door! 
Soul! thou hast had thy cold and cheerless winter. 
Thy spring with storm of penitential tears 
Now let the sun and song of summer enter— 
So with rich autumn fruits to crown thy years! 
Denis 1 Fortman, D. D., in Christian at Work. 
Another Aunt. 
Uncle Mark In the Rural of .July w! you say 
any aunt Is welcome to Join the Horticultural 
Club, so here I come, I have wanted to come all 
along, and am glad Aunt Earnest act the example. 
I love flowers, too, and have all she speaks of in 
her letter; my bed of Verbenas is Just splendid. I, 
too, have had trouble with Tuberoses, and think 
they were not kept warm enough, l had one bulb 
four years before It flowered. Yes, Azllea, 1 would 
like to exchange seeds also. Do all the Rural 
Cousins know how easy Geraniums can be raised 
rrom seed ? I had some that flowered the tlrst 
year from seed, and they were not planted until 
the first of May. I have found several young 
plants this summer that came up where my old 
plants were last year, so It seems the seeds are 
hardy. Verbenas make nice plants for the house 
In winter, they flower very freely after they Once 
commence; take off slips now, small ones are best, 
give a sunny window and keep them growing, 
pinch off the tops when about six or eight Inches 
high. In the spring they can be planted out. In the 
beds and will keep right on flowering. From 
Owasco, N. Y, Aunt Mary. 
VICTOR HUGO AND A LITTLE LITCHFIELD 
GIRL. 
The little girls who write to the Rural are not 
the only ones who have their lett ers published. 
The following Is a translation of a correspondence 
between a little Litchfield girl and Victor Hugo’s 
privat e secretary. The New York World published 
the originals, with a translation, 41 at the risk of 
making the life of Mr. Richard Reselling, the sec¬ 
retary of Victor Hugo’s correspondence with small 
girls, a burden to him.” The Frenchman's expla¬ 
nation that V. Hugo In Paris must “cross the 
water” to reach Litchfield Is especially ualve: 
Litchfield, July 7,1879. 
Mk. Victor Hugo:— Pardon the liberty which I 
take In writing you this letter. ] am a little Amer- 
Dear Uncle Mark :— I am a very little girl liv¬ 
ing away on the Upper Ottawa, and I love to read 
the dear old Rural, i have some experience in 
gardening and wish to Join he Horticultural Club. 
JESUS THE CHRIST, 
Wf. are accustomed to use the names of the Sou 
of God with little If any distinction, In their sig¬ 
nificance. We use Jesus, or Christ, or Jesus 
Christ tn conversation and song as if they were 
one and the same thing. This fact becomes Im¬ 
portant when we consider the effect upon our 
opinions that the familiar use of words produces. 
There is a difference In the use of these names 
very clearly marked tn the Scriptures. Jesus and 
Christ are not one and the same thing. One seems 
rather to be hts human deslgnatlou—the same by 
which he should be called as man—given to hint 
for the special reason that he was to be the w orld's 
Saviour. As the angel declared: “ Thou shall call 
his name Jesus; tor he shall save his peopleirom 
their sins." Christ, or rather the Christ, on the 
other hand, is tils official designation—the Old 
Testament Messiah, or the annolnted—which 
makes him and his work specific and unique. 
This is clearly shown to us by the Apostle Paul, 
where It Is written that, 44 he mightily convinced 
the Jews, and that publicly, showing by the 
Scriptures that Jesus Is tho Christ.” 
Greater care Is demanded In our use of the 
names, and like the seamless garment or our Lord, 
these should not be rent asunder. There Is a 
tendency toward sentimentalism,or religious gush, 
In the use of the name Jesus, manifested In the 
familiar and Irreverent levity both In prayer and 
In some of our Sunday-School songs. Skeptical 
writers Invariably ub« the name Jesus in a compli¬ 
mentary and patronizing way In speaking of the 
great teacher of Judea; but these Ignore the title 
or the Christ. 
We love and rejoice in the name of Jesus! We think 
of all his life among men, and call him brother and 
friend because he was partaker of flesh and blood. 
But he was also the Christ—the anointed of the 
Father! How clearly the apostles recognized the 
great truth Is seen In the manner of their address 
after his ascension—the same Jesus who was cruci¬ 
fied God hath made both Lord and Christ. Now he 
has become to them '• the Christ,” •' Christ Jesus,” 
“Jesus the Christ,” - the Lord Jesus;” and no ap- 
HOE-HANDLE MEDICINE 
On a bright, pleasant summer morning, a young 
man, with a silk mulller around Ills throat and a 
woe-begone look in ills pale face, plied the big 
knocker upon the doctor’s dwelling. A lady an¬ 
swered the summons and Informed the applicant, 
that the doctor was In his garden at work. To the 
garden the young man went, where he round the 
man of medicine engaged tn hoeing his sweet corn. 
“ Well, sir, and what Is the matter 7” the doctor 
asked, when the applicant had stated that he had 
come for medical advice and assistance. 
“ Well, doctor,” with a lugubrious face nnd a 
whining, moaning tone, “ 1 feel poorly all through. 
My head has spells of aching; my appetite Is poor; 
my food does not set well, and 1 am very weak. 
Really, 1 need help.” 
“ Yes, I see. Let me look at your tongue. Ah ! 
yes. Now—your pulse.” 
The pulse was felt, and after due deliberation, 
said the doctor: 
“ Look you, young man, you do certainly need 
help. Now, see; 1 must attend an Important case 
at ten o’clock, and I must have this corn hoed be¬ 
fore I go. So, while I am gone to make up a pre¬ 
scription for you, do you take my hoe und go on 
with my work here. You know how to use a 
hoe 7” 
“Yes, sir. My father was a farmer; but I 
haven’t worked on a farm since he died.” 
“And you haven’t worked much anywhere else, 
I take it,” the doctor threw in, pleasantly. 
“ No, sir; I am not obliged to." 
44 Very well. I’ll warrant you the work here 
won’t hurt you, so goon with It until I comeback.” 
With that the doctor trudged off, and the young 
man went at the work or hoeing. He hoed to the 
end of the row,and there removed the light mulller 
from his neck. Then he went at It again. Half 
way down the second row he stopped and looked 
up, but no doctor was In sight. At the end of that 
row, as the absent one had not yet appeared, he 
pulled off his coat. 
The third row lie hoed more Blowly, stopping 
several times before the end was reached; but he 
finished it, and after a good rest, attacked the 
fourth row. There was but oue more row arter 
this, and the fancy seized him to have It done be¬ 
fore the old fellow got buck. It would bo asurprl.se 
to him. The thought quickened Ills pulses, and 
gave him renewed vigor, lie had just completed 
the last bill of the last row when the doctor 
came back. 
“ Well, well, my young friend, how are you feel¬ 
ing now 7 ” 
The patient really had to consider. He had been 
looking to see wbat the physician had brought 
with him of medicine; but he had brought noth¬ 
ing. His hands were empty. "The work hasn’t 
hurt you, has It 7 ” 
44 Oh, no, sir," his face glowing with the exercise 
“ I thought not. Let me feel your pulse again.’? 
He held tho young man’s wrist for a brief space, 
and then— 
“ It has worked to a charm. Now, sir, do you go 
home, and repeat this dose twice a day, every 
morning and every afternoon ; do it faithfully, and 
be honest with your diet, don't use tobacco, and if 
that doesn’t work a cure, come and let me know. 
My fee, sir, Is one dollar." 
“One—dollar?” gasped the astonished youth. 
44 That la all I charge when patients call at my 
door.” 
“But sir, In mercy’s name! what Is it for? 
HANGING basket, 
lean girl of Lltclilleld, Gunn. 1 am learning French 
and lean already speak n little, l have read “Lea 
Mlserables,” "The Art Of Being a Grandfather” 
and “93,” I admire them much. I have heard so 
much of you and 1 should so like to have your 
autograph, written with your own hand. I hope 
you will be good enough to send It to me. if you 
come to America, come to see us at Ltteufleld. 
Everybody will be glad to see you. You must 
come to our house, for It Is very large. My father 
Is a doctor, and he speaks French—like an Ameri¬ 
can! .My French teacher, Mr. Laloux, will not 
correct this letter. He says It Is well enough 
written, for me. I shall be so happy when 1 have 
your autograph, and the little girls In my class 
will all be so jealous! I thank you many times In 
advance, and 1 wish you all sorts oi good wishes. 
A ti revoir, and do not forget my address. 
Annie D., Litchfield, Conn. 
Send me your portrait, too, If you please! 
And here Is the answer: 
Paris, August 7, JS79. 
Miss:—I am not Victor Hugo and 1 am very sorry 
for It, 1 assure you. But lie has Instructed me to 
answer the letters which he receives from little 
girls, for he receives so many that if he tried to 
answer them all he would have no time to sleep. 
1 send you the portrait you aslc for, with the signa¬ 
ture of our master, though l really am no' alto¬ 
gether pleased with your letter. T should scold you 
If 1 had not a great weak ness for litt le girls. What 1 
You hope tei make all your classmates very Jealous! 
That sentiment does not come from a very good 
heart! I must think the ugly words slipped out 
unintentionally, for there are very pretty things In 
the rest of your letter, and 1 dare say you are tho 
most charming child In tho world. At all events it 
depends only on you to become so. Victor Hugo 
takes a walk of some hours every artemoon, but I 
think It. would take a longer time to reach Litch¬ 
field, especially as he would have to cross the 
water. Yet the idea la a good one, for I think you 
asked me also to come, Only we must wait till 
l like boating, fishing, and all out-door games, in 
gardening I always help mother and have a few 
vines and plants to care for this year. 1 have some 
cucumbers, piunpklna, and watermelons, and also 
some balsamsjthat were flowering nicely when I 
left home to live a few days with my big brother. 
I am ten days away now und don't know when I 
will get back. But I ncle Murk 1 suppose you are 
tired with my letter, you get so many good ones 
from intelligent American Cousins that l fear you 
don't like to be bothered with the wild little 
Canadian girl of the Upper Ottawa. 
Temlstquemangue. Lizzie A Piob a. 
WHISKY SELLING, 
uess uouse ei any mna, and sells whisky or any 
other alcoholic stimulant that will make men 
drunk, ought to be excluded at as early a date as 
possible. 
In view of all tho light that has been shed on 
the temperance question within the last rew years, 
no man can engage In the sale of whisky without 
crushing the best moral feelings of his nature, and 
the Christian who goes into it ought not to be 
countenanced as a Christian for a day. 
We have heard of a Christian merchant who 
has been selling "bitters" under tue stomp of the 
government. He is jiiHt as guilty as It he had 
gone. Into the regular whisky trade. Yea, more 
so; for he Is trying to oover up his sin, Instead or 
coming out like a man. Ills church ought to deal 
with him Immediately, 
There is no time in tnis fast ago for trifling. If 
tlie church Is to be the conservator of public mor¬ 
al* she must stand unflinchingly and act decid¬ 
edly. if any man that Is called a brother be a 
drunkard, or a maker or drunkards, let him be put 
away from among us Just as soon as possible.— 
Baptist Banner. 
Dear Uncle Mark:— I am a little girl nine 
years old. i have been going to school six months. 
This Is the first time I ever wrote a letter. I live 
In Flatbusli, L. I. and Uoften visit tho Park and 
Coney Island. 1 have a brother Edwin, six years 
old. We have lo wood an hour every morning. 
J love flowers and would like you to enter my 
name and my brother's narno on your Horticul¬ 
tural tilth list. Will you please to send me some 
seeds. Florence H. 
Flatbusli, N. Y. 
The Joy oi the Spirit Is a delicate, sacred deposit, 
and must be kept in a pure casket; an unholy 
breath will dim Its luster and fade its freshness. 
