oral Satinet an3 Pictorial Ho 
ine 
lanmamaii. 
Once on a golden afternoon, 
With radiant faces and hearts, in June, 
Two fond lovers in dreaming mood, 
Threaded a rural solitude; 
Wholly happy, they only knew 
That the earth was bright and the sky was blue, 
That light and beauty and joy and song 
Charmed the way as they passed along. 
The air was fragrant with woodland scents, 
The squirrel frisked on the roadside fence, 
And hovering near them. “Chee, chee, chink!” 
Queried the curious bobolink, 
Pausing and peering with sidelong head, 
As saucily questioning all they said; 
While the ox-eye danced on its slender stem, 
And all glad nature rejoiced with them. 
Over the odorous field were strewn 
Wilting winrows of grass new mown, 
And rosy billows of clover bloom 
Surged in the sunshine and breathed perfume, 
Swinging low on a slender limb, 
The sparrow warbled his wedding hymn, 
And balancing on a blackberry brier, 
The bobolink sang, with his heart on fire— 
“ Chink! If you wish to kiss her, do! 
Do it, do it! You coward, you! 
Kiss her! kiss, kiss her! Who will see? 
Only we three 1 we three! we three!” 
Under garlands of drooping vines, 
Through dim vista of sweet breathed pines, 
Past wide meadow-fields lately mowed. 
Wandered the indolent country road; 
The lovers followed it, listening still, 
And loitering slowly as'lovers will; 
Entered a gray-roofed bridge that lay 
Dusk and cool in their pleasant way. 
Under its arch a smooth, brown stream, 
Silently glided with glint and gleam, 
Shaded by graceful elms that spread 
Their verduous canopy overhead— 
The stream so narrow, the boughs so wide. 
They met and mingled across the tide. 
Alders loved it and seemed to keep 
Patient watch as it lay asleep, 
Mirroring clearly the trees and sky, 
And the flitting form of the dragon-fly— 
Save where the swift-winged swallow played 
In and out in the sun and shade, 
And darkling and circling in merry chase, 
Dipped and dimpled its clear dark face. 
Fluttering lightly from brink to brink, 
Foliowed'dhe garrulous bobolink; 
Rallying loudly, with mirthful din. 
The pair who lingered unseen within; 
And when from the friendly bridge at last 
into the road beyond they passed, 
Again beside them the tempter went, 
Keeping the thread of his argument— 
“ Kiss her! kiss her! chink-a-chee-chee! 
I’ll not mention it! Don’t mind me ! 
I’ll be sentinel—I can see 
All around from this tall birch tree!” 
But ah! they noted—nor deemed it strange- 
In his rollicking chorus a trifling change— 
Do it! do it!” with a might and main 
Warbled the tell-tale, “do it again!” 
HOME-KEEPING AND HOUSE-KEEPING. 
There is a vast difference between home-keeping 
and house-keeping. The first includes the latter, and 
a great deal more. Paul taught that women were to 
he homekeepers, and by that we do not suppose he 
meant that they were always to stay at home and scrub 
and cook. Many have an idea that the highest en¬ 
comium that can be lavished upon a woman is that 
she is a good housekeeper, and by that they mean one 
who keeps the domestic machinery running without 
jar or interruption, one whose house is in perfect order 
from cellar to garret, and whose table is always with 
its appurtenances faultless. 
This is desirable, and so far as it conduces to the 
true happiness of the family, is included in my idea of 
home-keeping. I have seen housekeepers who sacri¬ 
ficed the comfort and freedom of their husbands and 
children to the one idea of an orderly house. I have 
been a guest in a house so stiffly kept that T feared to 
take up a hook lest I should forget which side up I 
found it. It is 11 Johnny ! look at your hoots”! if he 
chances to come hounding in with some important 
news for mother. “ Go right out and clean your feet! 
then I will hear you.” Johnny drops his head and 
in mother that item so important to him. That 
goes out and cares not to come in again, to confide 
mother had much better follow the little feet, with j 
brush and dust-pan, than check the confiding nature 
of her boy, who will soon learn to look to some 
one else for sympathy. That mother may some time 
weep in sorrow for the lost confidence she might have 
kept. A child's home should he attractive and warm ; 
with love. A house built ot clean cakes of ice may he 
neat hut it would not he inviting. 
Perhaps I can give my idea of home-keeping by 
describing to you a home I visited the past summer in 
the city of Rochester. The first thing that attracted 
the eye upon entering the well-lighted hall was the 
word “welcome,” formed of green Moss and tiny 
Everlastings tacked upon the tinted wall. From 
that simple word radiated a warm cheer that pervaded 
the whole atmosphere of the place, and gave you an 
ments that mother s love had created to make home 
beautiful to her children. In reply to a remark of 
mine she said, “ I am striving to make home so beau¬ 
tiful to my children that no other place on earth, he it 
ever so attractive, shall look so pleasant to them. 
1 hey went to Buffalo to spend a part of their last 
vacation with cousins, whose parents are very wealthy. 
I awaited their return without fear, yet with some 
anxiety. Almost the first exclamation of Emma was, 
( Oh, mamma, how lovely our home is! Uncle 
Harry’s house is so Rig and so stiff that I am dread- 
assurance of hospitality. It was a little thing, hut 
how much of life’s happiness or woe is made up of 
little influences. Let us enter the parlors: The 
first impression you have here is oue of harmony, 
giving a feeling of ease and pleasure. Webster gives 
as one definition ot home “ a place of rest.” Here you 
naturally drop into an easy chair and drink the quiet 
beauty of the place. There is nothing so startling in 
its curiousness, or glaring in its gorgeousuess, as to 
arouse you, hut it produces the same restful feeling 
that oue has in looking upon a beautiful blended pic¬ 
ture or a quiet landscape. Who would think of rest 
in a visit to Niagara, where every step reveals some¬ 
thing new to arouse and excite the whole being "l But 
this quiet beauty begins to resolve itself into pleasant 
details. A bay-window in the hack parlor first claims 
attention; it is filled with vines, choice plants, and 
thrifty hanging-baskets. A stand holds a wardian 
case filled with ferns, and it does better for being par¬ 
tially shaded by the plants ranged between it and the 
glass. From this beautiful bower ran Ivies, Mau- 
randia and Madeira vines over pictures, and apparently 
where their wild fancies led them, yet you knew they 
must have been carefully guided. They seemed like 
my friend’s children, to have been so constantly and 
gently guided that they appeared to go of themselves 
just where they ought. The centre-table was filled 
with the choicest magazines and newspapers of the 
day. 
I must have looked my surprise at the variety of 
periodicals, for my friend says,. “ nothing pays us so 
well as the reading matter we furnish our children — no 
retrenchment here.” Over the piano are two fern 
wreaths—one of green pressed ferns fastened with 
fully tired. Everything looks so bought.’ The fine 
furniture is always kept covered, except on some grand 
occasion, and Effie says they made her think of the 
mummies she had read about. There is nothing in 
our home, as you see, too good to enjoy every day.” 
I must say a word about the children’s rooms. 
Many who fill their parlors witli beautiful hooks and 
pictures leave their children’s rooms hare and unin¬ 
viting. Not so here. Henry’s room has his book¬ 
case, filling with choice hooks, which he is made to 
understand is the beginning of Ms library. He is to 
read the last before another is added. His specimens 
ol insects, his collection of fossils and shells, have 
their proper place. A bright carpet, a few chromos, 
&c., make a room that a hoy is proud of and a man 
would love to look hack upon. The girls’ room 
showed the same evidence of the taste and love of 
mother, and contained many articles of their own 
handiwork. I could not hut express my delight at 
the success of my friend in making a home. She 
says: “My time is nearly all given to the education 
and training of my children, and it seems to me that 
my work for the next ten or fifteen years, if my life is 
spared, will be to keep my home a haven to my chil¬ 
dren and a place of rest to my husband.” 
1 o me it seems that the calling of a true home- 
keeper is as much above that of a mere house-keeper 
as the position of a wife and mother is above the 
veriest menial. Mbs. H. M. Barker. 
touches of glue to white bristol-hoard, the other of 
bleached ferns upon a black velvet background. The 
frames were wrought in putty—leaves and fruit of the 
grapevine, and varnished. These home-made frames 
and their contents, which cost only patience and skill, 
were to me more beautiful than a pair of Prang’s 
chromos with their expensive frames that hung oppo¬ 
site. The front parlor had its bouquets of skeletonized 
leaves and bleached ferns. Autumn leaves arranged 
like a vine ran over the doorway, over pictures, and 
fell in sprays over the lace curtains. These leaves 
were ironed with a warm iron, dipped in melted paraf¬ 
fine, and fastened to long wire to similate a vine, and 
was beautiful beyond description. The wall being 
plain, and the slightest remove from white, showed the 
vine much better than a figured paper. 
Suspended from the centre of the arched doorway 
was a large wreath made of green Moss and Ever¬ 
lastings, and standing within the wreath was a white 
dove with extended wings (made of canton flannel), 
holding in his beak a green sprig. This, as an 
emblem of peace and love, was very suggestive. But 
time would fail me to tell of all the beautiful adorn- 
The Tyrant Mamma.— “ Letitia ” writes to The 
Louisville Courier-Journal: “ I have been invited to 
two parties during the past week, and am told by my 
mamma that I must not attend either, because the 
weather is changeable and severe, and because I will 
not consent to near any other than a dress with low 
neck and short sleeves, which would necessitate the 
removal of my winter woolens. The conditions are 
peculiarly hard to me. For several weeks I have been 
endeavoring to rob a rival of her lover. I have in¬ 
voked all my charms and blandishments in the contest, 
and the result of the battle hangs just now upon a 
thread. Indeed, I think I have the advantage of the 
fight, and could I only attend one of the parties in 
question I would feel confident of being rewarded with 
a complete victory. I dance better than my rival, and 
the gentleman over whom we are contending has often 
told me that I appeared to superior advantage in party 
dress. But I have just heard that in consequence of 
my refusal to accompany him he has made an engage¬ 
ment with my enemy. She, willing to he Second 
choice, consented. And, oh heavens! They are going- 
alone in a close carriage; I know they are! What am 
I to do ? What a torture my imagination will he to 
me during that long and feverish night! The parental 
tyranny is the greatest of cruelty. I had rather have 
the pneumonia in its worst type than suffer this mental 
misery. Not that I care for the man, for T do not; 
hut I want to spite my hated rival, and gain the glory 
of a victory over her. She loves him, and would 
marry him to-morrow if she could. But with the help 
of heaven and the hard times I will prevent it.” 
