THE LADIES' FLORAL CABINET. 
87 
bits of dry brown buds all over the wings and limbs ; 
in fact, the buds and fairies were one, you know. And 
in each bud is rolled a world of wonder, sprays and 
branches of green leaves and tiny blossoms. If you had 
sharj) microscopic eyes, and should cut some of those 
wee buds in pieces, you would find the leaves and 
flowers, very tiny, of course, all close wrapped in soft, 
fine, furry fuzz. 
If, when you go out of doors next, you will look 
closely, you will surely see the wee brown buds on the 
trees and bushes, and will know them as the homes of 
these brownies I’ve told you about. 
And to-day the air is full of other fairies. Big and 
little, long and short, all tightly rolled in soft white 
garments and hurrying, driving down to earth to do 
their work of love and usefulness. We call them snow 
flakes. Without them the Summer would suffer and, 
mayhap, perish. 
What do they do ? Nestle around the roots of the 
trees, keeping the earth warm so that the biting frost 
cannot kill the hidden seeds and roots. And when the 
sun shall shine out and kiss these soft white fairies they 
will run away from him down into the earth, and begin 
then - love-labor of feeding the plants down in the dark ; 
and, like dear little artists, will hunt about in the 
mysterious closets and cellars of the earth for colors to 
paint the coming flowers with. They will waken and 
wash and refresh all the sleeping beauties of Summer ; 
will send up the grass blades in entire armies to open up 
the way for the Spring posies. 
That is what the snow fairies do 1 R. D. 
Idlewilde. 
ANAI3EL C. ANDREWS. 
Idlewilde, you must know, is the Summer residence 
of a fashionable doll, by name Miss Myrtie Belle An¬ 
drews. It was once a closet containing five shelves, and 
is close beside the window in a hall. 
Outside the door hangs a bell-cord, below a gaily- 
embroidered slip of perforated paper bearing the legend: 
“Idlewilde!” Of course you ring the bell to give warn¬ 
ing of your presence before you open’ the door. The 
lower floor is the kitchen; plain board shelves are 
nailed in one corner for the dishes, and a little stove 
standing in another is made of a square black box— 
paste-board—with a door and covers cut. A long table 
stands in the centre of the room, composed of a strip of 
wood cemented on to two spools, such as black linen 
thread comes on. A rug and low toy chair complete 
the furniture of this room. 
The next room higher is the bath-room. A bath tub 
stands in one corner, made from one of the tin boats 
which are sold at fancy goods stores to hold burnt 
matches. A toy wash-stand, bowl, pitcher and slop-jar 
—made of one of the little white jars in which comes 
“Extract of Beef,” the cork cover decorated with tiny 
embossed pictures—are at one side. A towel-rack, 
made of two rake teeth sawed into three-inch lengths, 
and a crocheted sponge basket, hang on the wall. A 
rug lies in front of the register, said register being a 
steam register and made of a disabled “ harmonica.” A 
tin mustard-box cover forms a foot-bath, and finishes 
the catalogue for this room. 
Next higher the library and sitting-room combined. 
A carpet—which I bought for ten cents—covers this 
floor; it is a gray ground,over which are strewn Autumn 
leaves. In one corner gilded shelves reach from the 
floor to the ceiling; they are the corner pieces, which 
are cut out of picture frames and can be got at any 
picture dealer’s and are nailed up with “blind” nails 
from the outside. The lower ones are full of tiny 
books—mostly of home manufacture—and the upper 
ones with shells, stones, and rare curiosities. A beau¬ 
tiful gilded table stands in the center of the room, 
formed by taking four of the gilded pieces like the 
shelves, nailing them with the blind nails, and then 
cementing on to a large spool. I bought a damaged 
100-yard spool of green silk for one cent, and crocheted 
a deep cover for it. A gilded lounge is close by the 
window, made of more pieces, with roll pillow and has¬ 
sock complete. Very full curtains of white book mus¬ 
lin hang at each end, and over them are dark-blue vel¬ 
vet lambrequins. A piano stands open at the back of 
the room. This piano is the russia leather case in which 
the doll’s mother’s silver knife and fork came ; keys are 
imitated on white paper marked with black ; the legs 
are four black spools which are supposed to be ebony- 
Pictures hang everywhere on the walls. It has its own 
little “cosy comer,” copied from the Cabinet, a tiny 
music rack of perforated paper, a little table, on which 
is a checkerboard and several puzzles. A bird in a per¬ 
forated paper cage swings in one of the windows, and 
there are three toy chairs. 
The other two rooms are chambers; they are fur¬ 
nished with toy chamber sets, and one is known as the 
“pink room,” the other the “blue room.” The toilet 
sets on the dressing-cases are mucilage bottles and shell 
boxes. The bottles are decorated with ribbons and pic¬ 
tures, and she—the little owner—makes her own per¬ 
fume with alcohol, sweet alyssum and rose geranium 
leaves. 
The bods are daintily made up with ruffled shams and 
silk quilts. Little rugs are all over the floors, which 
are carpeted with paper and varnished—supposed to be- 
mosaic and costing thousands of dollars. 
A curly dog with a very curly tail sits in front of the 
house dose by the landing, and “ though he be but lit¬ 
tle, he is fierce.” 
O, banish the tears of children 1 Continual rains upon 
tho blossoms are hurtful.— Richter. 
• 
Poetry is the blossom and fragrance of all human 
knowledge, human thoughts, human passions, emotions, 
language.— Coleridge. 
That silence is one of the arts of conversation is al 
lowed by Cicero himself, who says: “ There is not only 
an art, but even an eloquence in it .”—Hannah Moore. 
When credulity comes from the heart it does no harm 
to the intellect.— Joubert. 
