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OUR MINISTER’S SERMON. 
The minister said last night, says he, 
“Don’t be afraid of givin’; 
If your life ain’t worth nothin’ to other folks, 
Why, what’s the use of livin’ ? ” 
And that’s what I say to my wife, says I, 
There’s Brown the miserable sinner, 
He’d sooner a beggar would starve than give 
A cent towards feuyin’ a dinner. 
I tell you our minister’s prime, he is, 
But I couldn’t quite determine, 
When I heard him a givin’ it right and left, 
Just who was hit by his sermon. 
Of course there couldn’t be no mistake 
When he talked of long winded prayin’, 
For Peters and Johnson they sot and scowled 
At every word he was say in’. 
And the minister he went on to say. 
“ ’There’s various kinds of cheatin’, 
And religion’s as good for every day 
As it is to bring to meetin’. 
I don’t think much of the man that gives 
The loud Amens at my preachin’, 
Ana spends his time the followin’ week 
In cheatin’ and overreachin’.” 
I guess that dose was bitter enough 
For a man like Jones to swaller ; 
But I noticed he didn’t open his mouth, 
Not once, after that, to holler; 
Hurrah, says I, for the minister— 
Of course I said it quiet— 
Give us some more of this open talk ; 
It’s very refreshin’ diet. 
The minister hit ’em every time ; 
And when he spoke of fashion, 
And riggin’s out in bows and things, 
As woman’s rulin’ passion, 
And coming to church to see the styles, 
I couldn't help a winkin’ 
And a-nudgin’ my wife, and says I, “That’s you; 1 
And I guess it sot her thinkin’. 
Says I to myself, that sermon is pat, 
But man is a queer creation, 
And I’m much afraid that most of the folks 
Won’t make'the application. 
Now, if he had said a word about 
My personal mode of sirmin’, 
I’d have gone to work to right myself 
And not set there a-grinnin’. 
Just then the minister, says he, 
u And now I’ve come to the fellers 
Who’ velost this shower by usin’ their friends 
As a sort o’ moral umbrellas. 
Go home,” says he, “and find your faults, 
Instead of huntin’ your brothers’; 
Go home,” says he, “ and wear the coats 
You tried to fit for others.” 
My wife she nudged and Brown he winked, 
And there were lots o’ smilin’, 
And lots o’ lookin’ at our pew— 
It sot my blood a bilin’. 
Says I to myself, our minister 
Is gettin’ a little bitter; 
I’ll tell him, when the meetin’s out, that I 
Ain’t at all that kind of a critter 1 
HINTS TO COUNTRY GIRLS ABOUT 
THEIR BED-ROOMS. 
In offering the following homely suggestions, the 
writer makes no pretension to advancing any very 
novel ideas, but hopes they may prove useful to some 
of the petites soeurs des pauvres, who may, like her¬ 
self, he thrown into the country, twenty miles from 
town, with little to aid in their love for the beautiful, 
except their native ingenuity, and the necessity that 
we are told is the mother of invention. 
In the first place, the bedstead should be low—I sawed 
mine off to within a foot of the floor—and the bed 
evenly and squarely made, and flat on top. Those 
who live in the country know what high, inaccessible 
mountains of feathers, heaped up in the centre, gen¬ 
erally greet you on entering a country bed-room, hence 
the suggestion. Large, square pillows look much 
better than the small ones generally seen; and with 
these one can dispense with a bolster. As pillow¬ 
cases, even when only once used, will look rumpled, 
pillow-shams add much to the appearance of the bed. 
They should be large and square—thirty-two by thirty- 
four inches is a good size —with ruffle three inches wide 
after being hemmed. A braided pattern all around is 
pretty, or, instead, there may be a row of tucks. The 
centres may have braided or embroidered initials or 
monograms, six or seven inches long. The braiding 
pattern can be worked with coarse, black silk, the 
lines being followed either on the sewing machine or 
in chain stitch embroidery. The material may be 
linen, cambric, or plain white cotton; white Swiss 
muslin is very pretty, lined with bright colored 
cam brie. 
Wooden washstands will be much improved by tack¬ 
ing a piece of oil-cloth, which so closely imitates white 
marble, neatly over the top, taking care to have the 
edges covered, and the tacks hidden underneath. Mats 
should be beneath each article on the stand, and these 
can be easily and prettily made of round pieces of 
white pique, with crocheted edge of white cotton or 
red wool. Every washstand should have behind it a 
small wall-tidy ; those of white net are pretty— round- 
meshed, mosquito net will do— darned with white em¬ 
broidery cotton in any pretty pattern, and lined with 
bright cambric, and edged either with a quilling of 
pinked cambric, or with cheap white lace. White 
ones are pretty, made of white pique, scolloped around 
with coarse embroidery cotton, and a braiding pattern 
stitched with black silk, like the shams ; but white 
tidies do not suit white walls. A very cheap one is 
made by taking solid, colored calico —one before me 
is gray—turn over on the right side a hem an inch and 
a half wide, and stitch with black ; then spatter in 
each corner a cluster of ferns, and in the centre either 
a monogram or initial, or else a large group of quaintly- 
shaped leaves, ferns and graceful views. A bow of 
bright ribbon at the corners is an improvement. Tidies 
may be made in the same way for the tops of wooden 
bureaus that have been defaced, and for the backs of 
chairs. 
For cords to hang pictures, homespun yarn 
can be twisted into looking very respectable, but it 
must have a strand of twine mixed in. 
Amongst the various suggestions about cone work, 
I have seen no description of the six-pointed, star¬ 
shaped frames for small photographs ; these are nine 
inches from point to point, and have a hexagonal 
opening in the centre for the picture. A small piece 
of glass must cover the opening, and this and the 
picture are fastened in by having a piece of stiff paste¬ 
board, star-shaped, sewed around the edges. Pretty 
match receivers to hang on the wall can be made of 
the same materials; mine is about ten inches long 
and six wide where the little inch and a half box for 
matches is sewed on ; it narrows to the top, and, above 
the box, is cut out to imitate carved wood. 
If at a loss for vases for your mantel, and you have 
any of the bluish gray jars in which West India 
preserves are put up, cut off the straw handles, and, if 
you can, have a round, funnel-shaped mouth made of 
tin ; paint the whole with asphaltum varnish. These 
look well without the tin. On my mantel are two of 
the little white ■wood cages , not a foot square, in which 
canaries are sent on their travels ; these are lined with 
dried ferny, green moss and grasses, and berries fill 
the top. They make unique bouquet-holders ; they 
also make beautiful hanging baskets ; in one of my 
windows hangs one filled with green tradescantia ; in 
the other is one filled with tradescantia, zebrina and 
Kenilworth ivy, and it must be seen to be appreciated. 
Another novel hanging basket can be made of a large 
gnarled and knotty squash, with top sawed off and 
cleaned out ; one which I used as a pot for a fine 
scarlet geranium was the admiration of all beholders, 
and the plant bloomed profusely. The long, gourd¬ 
shaped squashes, with part of the large end sawed off, 
and suspended by cords, make pretty corner cornucopias 
for grasses and autumn leaves; sometimes their color 
needs no change, but if it does, they can be stained 
and varnished. Here let me say that I stain every 
thing with asphaltum varnish; as Mrs. Toodles would 
say, “ it is a handy thing to have in the house.” With 
it I’ve varnished old gilt cornices—leaving portions 
gilt—until they looked almost new; it will hide 
ugly scratches on furniture, and will stain any 
thing you wish a dark color. Ten cents will get 
enough to last a long time, as it must be diluted with 
turpentine. 
Having seen in an old Cabinet that a turtle shell 
makes a pretty card receiver, I tried to see if one could 
not be fashioned into a jewel stand, but it was too flat; 
then one of the farm servants brought a terrapin, 
which answers nicely since the shell is several inches 
deep, and is a pretty brown, spotted with yellow. 
The terrapin must be boiled nearly an hour, until the 
meat can be pulled out perfectly clean, then a narrow 
ribbon can be run under the vertebrae, tied in a little 
bow at each end, and pasted fast. For mine, a friend 
contributed a little stand of carved walnut, about three 
inches high, with four little feet to rest on the bureau, 
and four to support the shell. 
Sheepskins cut in rectangular shape make pretty 
and comfortable rugs, either left white or dyed with 
aniline, and they can be combed out when washed. 
One of my rugs is the skin of a red fox, tanned head 
and all; where fox-hunting is as prevalent as in this 
part of the world, these are easily procured, and the 
tanning will cost only a few cents. They must be 
lined with cloth, cut the shape of the skin, but larger ; 
some that I saw lately at the Centennial, from Nor¬ 
way, were lined with black, and had narrow, pinked 
strips of red, white and blue flannel or cloth stitched 
around the edge. 
To make a rustic picture, buy a little five cent 
wicker basket about three inches long, cut in half, 
handle and all, and sew to a piece of Bristol board; 
fill the basket with mosses, lichens and tiny pressed 
ferns, then frame in a deep frame. On the wall I 
preserve a souvenir from the valley of Chamouni in 
this shape. I have seen the basket filled with different 
colored birds’ feathers, and the effect is pretty. Above 
each of my pictures I place small bouquets of grasses, 
pressed autumn leaves, ferns, berries and everlastings; 
the sprays of the wild bamboo vine, with its brilliantly 
blotched leaves and black berries, are specially beauti¬ 
ful. Press the leaves with an iron, leaving the stem 
to twist its own way. My pressed autumn leaves are 
dipped in common, yellow, melted wax, then powdered 
carmine is rubbed on with the finger, and they are as 
brilliant as before being pressed. 
Perhaps it may not be generally known that com¬ 
mon glue, disolved in vinegar, will answer the same 
purpose as the troublesome contrivance that has to 
have two vessels ; one to contain water ; all one has to 
do is to set it near the fire—not too near—when you 
wish to use. 
If you have ink stains on your furniture, oxalic 
acid, dissolved in tepid water and left to stand on the 
one place a short time, will take it entirely out of 
oiled wood; I have not tried varnished wood. Kero¬ 
sene, applied with what my mother used to call 
u elbow grease,” will take out white spots from furni¬ 
ture, but only with long and patient rubbing ; other¬ 
wise it gives a greasy, smeared appearance to the 
wood. 
A Virginia Girl. 
