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SHELLING PEAS. 
Pink-sunbonnet hanging down 
O’er a fair face half a frown ; 
Basket tipped upon her knees— 
Maiden busy shelling peas. 
Looking o’er the garden wall, 
Youthful figure straight and tali. 
Lounges with a careless grace, 
Straw hat pushed off sunny face— 
And a pair of lazy eyes 
Look with cool and calm surprise 
On the fingers plump and white.— 
Shelling peas with all their might. 
“ Such a busy little bee 
Puts to shame poor thriftless me!" 
x\nd a yawn, half made, half real. 
To these words gives sign and seal! 
Pink-sunbonnet nods assent, 
Fingers gives the pods a rent, 
As though saying, “ Were these you. 
I’d soon show you what I’d do !" 
“ So you think I ought to be 
Quite ashamed of this ‘poor me, 1 
Who bewails his lazy lot 
And to better it tries not ?” 
Pink-sunbonnet gives a nod, 
Cracks a fresh new glistening pod. 
Which exploding seems to say, 
Answering for her, boldly, “ yea." 
Lazy-cyes dart a quick look, 
Naught but silence will they brook; 
Bending closer they peer down 
’Neath the bonnet’s clumsy crown. 
“I would toil and strive each hour. 
Working with a will and power, 
Had I aught to work hard for — 
Some sweet bright reward in store.” 
Pink-sunbonnet laughs out now, 
And the face is all aglow, 
As she answers, pointing down 
To her basket with a frown— 
“Lots of shell and little peas; 
Words are well and sometimes please; 
But words are shell —its fruit we need : 
Talk is easy—prove by deed !” 
Quick the lazy eyes flash fire. 
And the owner bends down nigher, 
Till the color in his cheeks 
Fades and flickers as he speaks— 
“Ah, but ’tis within the shells 
That the perfect fruit first dwells: 
All my words I’ll prove quite true, 
If my reward may be you!” 
Pink-sunbonnet’s still and dumb; 
Busy fingers quite o’ercome, 
Drop the basket off the knees. 
And down roll the half-shelled peas. 
“ See, you work in vain alone— 
Without help naught can be done; 
May I then through our lives be 
Helpmate to you "loyally?” 
Two brown hands clasp fingers white; 
Lazy-eyes grow clear and bright; 
Pink-sunbonnet ’gainst her will. 
Looks up with cheeks pinker still. 
And again it gives a nod— 
Then a noise f Was it a pod ? 
Something sounded. As you please, 
It all happened —shelling peas! 
THE GENERAL AND THE WIDOW. 
There was a fine old general once, who, having 
spent most of his life in the field of Mars, knew very- 
little about the camp of Cupid. He was one of those 
rough and honest spirits, often met with in his gallant 
profession, innocent as an infant of almost everything 
save high integrity and indomitable bravery. He was 
nearly fifty years old, and his toils were over, when 
Master Don Cupid brought him acquainted with a 
Widow' Wadman, in whose eyes he began to detect 
something that made him uneasy. Here was the result! 
During his service he had never seen anything 
worthy of notice in a woman’s eye. In fact, he would 
scarcely have observed whether a woman had three 
eyes in her head or only one; for no matter where his 
own eyes were, his thoughts were ever among “ guns, 
and drums, and wounds,” and love was a thing that 
lived in his memory just as he remembered once read¬ 
ing a visionary story-book, called the Arabian Nights’ 
Entertainments, when a boy. 
Well, the General had settled down into an amiable, 
gentlemanly fellow, living alone, with comfortable 
wealth around him, and having little to do, save now 
and then to entertain an old comrade in arms, when 
companionship afforded opportunity for him to “fight 
his battles o’er again.” But alas! o’er this calm 
evening of the old General’s day, a deal of perplexity 
was doomed to fall, and he soon found himself in 
troubled waters, the depths of which he could by no 
means understand. He floundered about like a caged 
rat under a pump, and such another melancholy fish 
out of water never before swallowed the bait, hook 
and all, of the angling God of Love. 
The jmor General! We must give him a name, or 
we can’t tell the story; and the best name for such a 
story is Uncle Toby. The poor General debated 
abstractedly about his new position, and never had 
siege or campaign given him such perplexity before. 
At length, however, the blunt honesty of his dispo¬ 
sition rose uppermost among his conflicting plans, and 
his course was chosen. At school he once studied 
Othello’s Defense, to recite at an exhibition, but made 
a great failure; and he now recollected there was 
something in this Defense very much like what he 
wanted to say. He got the book immediately, found 
the passage, clapped on his hat with a determined air, 
and posted off to the Widow Wadman’s with Shakes¬ 
peare under his arm. 
“ Madam,” said General Uncle Toby, opening his 
book at the marked place, with the solemnity of a 
special pleader at the bar—“ Madam—- 
‘ Elide am I in my speech. 
And littls blessed with the set phrase of peace; 
For since these arms of mine had seven years’ pith. 
Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have used 
't heir dearest action in the tented field; 
And little of this great world can I speak, 
More than pertains to feats of broils and battle; 
And therefore ’ ”- 
Here the General closed the book, wiped his fore¬ 
head, looked up at the ceiling, and said, with a spas¬ 
modic gasp— 
“ I want to get married.” 
The widow laughed for ten minutes by the watch 
before she could utter a syllable, and then she said, 
with precious tears of humor rolling down her good- 
natured cheeks^- 
“And who is it you want to marry, General ? ” 
“ You,” said Uncle Toby, flourishing his sword arm 
in the air, and assuming a military attitude of de¬ 
fiance, as if he expected an assault from the widow 
immediately. 
“Will you kill me if I marry you?” said the widow, 
with a merry twinkle in her eye. 
“No, madam,” replied Uncle Toby, in a most ser¬ 
ious and deprecating tone, as if to assure her that such 
an idea had never entered his head. 
“Well, then, I think I’ll marry you,” said the widow. 
“Thank yoir, ma’am,” said Uncle Toby; “but one 
thing I am bound to tell you of, madam— I wear a tvig! ” 
The widow started, remained silent a moment, and 
then went into a longer, louder, and merrier laugh 
than she had indulged in before; at the end of which 
she drew her seat nearer to the General, gravely laid 
her hand on his head, gently lifted his wig off, and 
placed it on the table. 
General Uncle Toby had never known fear in hot 
battle, but he now felt a most decisive inclination to 
run away. The widow laughed again, as though she 
never would stop, and the General was about to lay 
his hat upon his denuded head and bolt, when the 
facetious lady placed her hand upon his arm and de¬ 
tained him. She then deliberately raised her other 
hand to her own head, with a sort of military precis¬ 
ion, executed a rapid manoeuvre with her five fingers, 
pulled off' her whole head of fine glossy hair, and 
placing it upon the table by the side of the General’s, 
remained seated with ludicrous: gravity in front of her 
accepted lover —quite bald! 
As may be expected, Uncle Toby now laughed 
along with the widow, and they soon grew so merry 
over the affair, that the maid-servant peeped through 
the key-hole at the noise, and saw the old couple 
dancing a jig, and bobbing their bald pates at each 
other like a pair of Chinese Mandarins. As the story 
goes, the two were united very shortly thereafter. 
Tact. —Love swings on little hinges. It keeps an 
active little servant to do a good deal of its fine work. 
The name of the little servant is tact. Tact is nimble¬ 
footed and quick-fingered ; tact sees without looking ; 
tact has- always a good deal of small change on hand; 
tact carries no heavy weapons, but can do wonders 
with a sling and stone; tact never runs its head against 
a stone wall; tact always spies a sycamore tree up 
which to climb when things are becoming crowded and 
unmanageable on the level ground; tact has a cunning 
way of availing itself of a word, or a smile, or a 
gracious wave of the hand ; tact carries a bunch of cu¬ 
riously-fashioned keys which can turn all sorts of 
looks ; tact plants its monosyllables wisely, for being a 
monosyllable itself, it arranges its own order with all 
the familiarity of friendship ; tact—sly, versatile, 
diving, running, flying tact—governs the great world, 
yet touches the big baby under the impression that it 
has not been touched at all. 
Arranging the Hair.— The fashion which now pre¬ 
vails in New York, is to have a wide braid extending 
from the top of the head to the nape of the neck. A 
braided bandeau is placed upon the forehead, fastening- 
on the side underneath the chatelaine braid. Hair 
crimped in front, arranged in stiff waves above the 
forehead, or in stiff, flat spirals, reaching almost to the 
eyes. The last, it is needless to say, is an idiotic 
fashion. Abroad, the hair is arranged higher on the 
top of the head. A narrow fringe of hair hangs over 
the forehead, slightly crimped; going back in waves, 
puffs, or braids, the hair rises at least three inches from 
the top of the head, and a high comb is inserted. In 
arranging the back, particular attention is paid to the 
shape of the head. Puffs are most worn; but few 
ladies are expert enough to make those themselves. 
The hair must be tied high on the head. If it is 
long, the different pieces required for the puffs must 
be braided down, leaving only enough hair loose for 
the puffs. The braids are then pinned up and the 
puffs easily made. If you wear false hair at all, we 
advise you to have it made in a chignon of loose puffs, 
as they are so much fighter than braids, and much 
prettier. Hair that is massed on top of the head is 
fastened with jet pins, balls, and daisies. Wide jet 
combs, headed by flat bands, are also used to hold the 
hair back. 
French Women. —A French woman in the decline 
of life is one of the most delightful companions in the 
world. She retains a sufficient desire to please (the 
real source of coquetry) to the end of her days; and 
this desire prevents her from being either cross or 
stupid. She dresses well; that is to say, a woman 
of forty does not, in France, dress like a girl of 
fifteen; she takes care in the morning to arrange her 
blonde so that the coming wrinkles may appear but the 
shadow of the lace; her figure is well sustained ; and by 
the aid of a little rouge and a little penciling, her eyes, 
the only real beauty in a French face, look brilliant, 
and, what is better still, good-natured to the last. 
