Godey's Lady's Book 1855-02: Vol 50 Iss 2

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GODEY’S LADY'S BOO. PHILADELPHIA, FEBRUARY, 185°. FURS FOR THE LADIES; AND HOW THEY ARE OBTAINED. Fur is a material most abundantly produced in cold countries, where also it is most largely required as a suitable clothing for the inhabit- ants. It consists of the skins of animals which, for their own protection, are covered with thick, soft hair; and, the colder the climate, the more abundant this provision for their needs. The skins, taken from the animals, having been fitly prepared on the inner side, are exceedingly durable, and often very beautiful, and make altogether the most proper clothing for severe climates. When thus prepared, these skins are called “fur ;” in their natural state, “ peltry.” The wellnigh universal use of fur as an arti- cle of dress, even during our own comparatively mild winters, will suggest some idea of what must be the demand for it in more rigorous climates. In Russia, Poland, East Prussia, Hungary, Bohemia, Saxony, &c., lambs’ skins constitute an essential part of the dress of thou- sands among the humble classes. The skins, too, of several other animals are considered articles of absolute necessity. The more beau- tiful and costly furs, which rank as articles of luxury and fashion, are used chiefly in China, Turkey, Russia, England, and the United States. Even in the sixth century the skins of sables constituted an article of fashionable attire in Rome, and were transported, at great cost, from the borders of the Arctic Ocean to supply this demand. It was several centuries, however, before Western Europe craved the same luxury. In the reign of Edward III., the Italian traders imported into England so large a supply, that the king judged it wise to interdict their use to all save the wealthier classes. The Canadian fur trade was commenced by the French soon after their settlement on the St. Lawrence. At first, it was exceedingly pro- fitable, since the Indians, totally ignorant of the value of the skins, would eagerly exchange them for beads, nails, hatchets, trinkets, &c., of inadequate worth. At the outset, moreover, there was an almost unlimited supply. When, however, the hunting-grounds bordering on the European settlements had become exhausted, longer journeys were necessary ; and various settlers, bearing the name of courieurs des bois (wood-rangers), made excursions to more re- mote hunting-grounds, where they sometimes remained for many months, adopting the usages of the Indians, and forming connections with them. But the great success attending this traffic soon aroused competition. A company, formed in London, was chartered by Charles IL, in 1670, for trading in fur with the Indians inha- biting the region north and west of Hudson’s Bay, and hence named ‘* Hudson’s Bay Com- pany.” This association prospered, founded numerous establishments, and prosecuted its trade success- fully for more than acentury. It then encoun- tered a powerful rival in a new company, com- posed of opulent and influential settlers in Canada and others, who recognized no exclusive right in the Hudson’s Bay Company to trade in a particular region, since their charter had never been confirmed by act of Parliament. This second association, entitled the North- west Company, managed its affairs with great spirit and energy, having its principal establish- ment at Montreal, but pushing its trade upwards of 4,000 miles to the northwest. Wherever these companies came in contact, animosities were kindled, which occasionally produced acts of reciprocal violence between their servants. After protracted dissensions, the two companies were finally united in one powerful body, under the title of the “ Hudson’s Bay Fur Company,” which now engrosses the main portion of the fur trade of British America. 105

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106 —— ~~~ The Indian trade of the great lakes and of the Upper Mississippi is mostly in the hands of the North American Fur Company, whose principal establishment is in New York. We are told, however, that, except the muskrat, most of the fur-bearing animals in the vicinity of the lakes have become extinct. A large proportion, there- fore, of the furs in use comes through the Hud- son’s Bay Company, whose vast hunting-grounds, covering nearly one-eighth of the globe, furnish an almost inexhaustible amount of valuable skins. The great fur-sales of this company are held annually in London, some time in March, and attract multitudes of foreigners. Through these visitants, the bulk of the furs destined for the continent pass to the great fair at Leipsic, whence they are distributed through Europe. Formerly, the beaver was one of the most valuable furs of this company. Now, however, its worth is far less, since the hat, in the manu- facture of which it was once chiefly employed, is at present made mostly of other materials. Still its value is, in some degree, maintained by its application to new purposes. For, by a novel process, effected by an ingenious machine, the skin of the beaver is now so cut as to make a handsome fur for the use of the ladies. More- over, its fine, silky wool has been successfully applied to purposes of wear. In the Russian and Chinese markets, the skins of the black and silver foxes are highly prized, and are, indeed, more valuable than the skins of any other of the family. The felt of red fox, however, is also used by the Chinese, the Persians, the Greeks, &c., as linings and trimmings for robes, which are ornamented with the black fur of the paws of the same animal. The white and blue fox are also used for ladies’ wear. The finest raccoon furs are the product of North America. They are largely employed throughout Russia and Germany as a lining for gentlemen’s coats, the darkest skins being pre- ferred. The Hudson’s Bay marten or sable, a valuable fur, is extensively used in this country, and in France, Germany, and England, as is also that of the mink, which is the product exclusively of that company’s North American possessions. The fur of the wolf, too, is employed in cold countries as cloak-liaings, sleigh-coverings, &c. So, likewise, the soft, light, warm fur of the lynx is in great request for the same purposes. Originally, this fur is grayish-white, with dark spots; but, for certain markets, it is dyed of a beautiful, glistening black. The heavy fur of the sea-otter bears a high ; | | | } ; | ? } GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. commercial value, and is the royal fur of China. It is worn by officers of state, mandarins, and other important persons. In Russia, too, it is highly esteemed for trimmings, collars, &c., of gentlemen’s dresses. It is, however, unfit for ladies’ wear, from its great weight. The fur of the North American black bear is valued both at home and abroad for military purposes, being formed into caps, pistol-holders, &e. It is, moreover, shaped into rugs, hammer - cloths, sleigh-coverings, &c. The fur of the brown bear is used by Ameri- can ladies. The musquash, or muskrat, is used in England. Once it was employed in the hat manufacture; but now, after some preparation, it is converted to the usual purposes of fur. The Hudson’s Bay otters are procured chiefly for Russia and Greece, where they are used for caps, collars, &c. The ermine is the most precious of all furs. It is produced 1n many countries, but in perfec- tion only in Russia, Sweden, and Norway. The animal yielding this fur is the stoat, or weasel, of southern climates. Its peculiar value comes from a provision of Nature, whereby it becomes pure white, in the winter of those snow-covered regions, where, otherwise, the animal would be exposed more distinctly to the view of its ene- mies. The ermine, therefore, must be killed in winter, in order to procure that celebrated fur, which is the royal fur alike of England, Russia, Germany, and Portugal. The tip of: the ani- mal’s tail, and this alone, is jet black ; and, in ordinary wear, this is inserted in the snowy fur at intervals, as an ornament. There is now no restriction on the wearing of this fur in Eng- land; though, in the reign of Edward III, it was expressly prohibited to all save the royal family. A kindred interdict still exists in Austria. A distinction, however, is made in the mode of ornamenting this fur, as employed on state occasions, according as it is worn by the monarch and members of the royal family, or by peers, peeresses, judges, &c. The first- named alone may wear ermine trimmings to their robes of state, wherein the fur is spotted all over with black, one spot in about each square inch of the fur. These spots are not made with the ermine’s tail, but with the paws of the black Astracan lamb. Peeresses wear capes of ermine, whereon the spots are set in rows, the number of which indi- cates their degree of rank; while peers wear scarlet robes, trimmed with pure white ermine devoid of spots. In the latter case, however, the rank is denoted by the number of rows or bars of pure ermine.

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FURS FOR THE LADIES, AND HOW THEY ARE OBTAINED. oe - " errr The robes of the judges are also scarlet and pure white ermine. In heraldry, the ermine is entitled minever. Next to the ermine in value and in general use are the Russian sables, the best of which are very beautiful, and correspondingly costly. They are used for civic robes, &c., as the ermine is for court and parliamentary garbs. Thus, the lining of a robe of state, if made of the finest sables, may be worth a thousand guineas. Skins of the first quality are procured by the Samoeids in Yakutsk, Kamtschatka, and Russian Lapland. The length of this animal (considered, by some naturalists, a variety of the pine-marten) is from eighteen to twenty inches. The darkest colored are esteemed the most valuable. Of these beautiful and costly skins, Russia produces annually about 25,000. The tails of sables are used in the manufacture of artists’ pencils or brushes. So, too, a large quantity of mink sable, the exclusive product, as we have said, of the Hudson’s Bay Company’s territories, is sold to the inexperienced as the genuine Rus- sian sable. ‘There is an inferior sable, named the Kolinski, or Tartar sable, belonging to the weasel genus, and of a bright yellow color, which also comes from Russia. Their fur, when dyed, is sold among the cheaper sables, but is much ased also in its natural state. The fur of the squirrel, produced in Russia, ¢ ; 5 107 is exported therefrom to the enormous amount of about 23,000,000 of skins annually. In 1850, England alone received thence above 2,000,000. Of the gray squirrel, the back is in most request, though the white portions from the under part of the body are also largely used for linings. The favorite Weissenfels cloak-lining is made from the white part of the dark-blue squirrel, and is so light that the lining for a full-sized cloak weighs only about twenty-five ounces. This animal is known as the petit gris. The lamb skins of Russia are celebrated, especially the skin of the Astracan lamb, which is fine, rich, and glossy, like silk. Of the Per- sian gray and black lamb, it is said that the young creature is sewed up tightly in leather as soon as born, that the small curls covering the skin may not expand. The national dress of Hungary is made of the lamb skins of that country, worn in summer with the wool outside ; in winter, the reverse. The skin is tanned in a peculiar way, and ornamented according to the wearer’s fancy. So the short jacket worn by Spaniards is of lambs’ skin, decorated with fila- gree silver buttons. Thus much for the present on the general topic. We will conclude with a summary de- scription (in part recapitulatory) of some of the fur-bearers previously mentioned. by The ermine (called, pre-eminence, the “precious ermine”) is perfectly white, save the tip of the tail, which is cf a brilliant black. These black tips being tacked on the snowy skins, they are beautifully spotted; so, indeed, that, though often imitated, they are never equalled by other furs. This animal is of the weasel genus, and its body is from ten to twelve inches long. It lives in hollow trees, in river banks, and especially in beech forests. It preys on small birds, is very shy, sleeps by day, and forays for food by night. It is taken in snares or traps, and sometimes shot with blunt arrows. It is found too wild for domestication. The sable is also of the weasel genus, and its habits are like the ermine’s. It so resembles the marten in every particular, save size, that naturalists have not settled whether or not it is a variety of that species. Its length is from

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108 GODEY 8S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE, een 2 0 O00 OOOO SABLE. eighteen to twenty inches. The rich dark shades and the flowing softness of its fur have, in all ages, made the sable a rival of the ermine, and have placed the two at the head of all fur- bearers in general repute. The sea-otter, first known in commerce in 1725, has an exceedingly fine, soft, close fur, jet black, and with a silken gloss in winter. It abounds in Bhering’s Island, Kamtschatka, and the Aleutian and Fox Islands, as also en the opposite North American coasts. Sometimes it is taken with nets, but oftener with clubs and spears. It feeds on shell-fish. ‘The Hon. William Sturgis, of Boston, who was formerly concerned in the fur trade on the northwest coast of America, delivered a lecture on that subject in Boston in 1846. Respecting the sea-otter skins, Mr. Sturgis said :— * The sea-otter skins have ever been held in high estimation by the Chinese and Russians as an ornamental fur; but its great scarcity, and consequent cost, limit its wear to the wealthy and higher classes only. A full-grown prime skin, which has been pressed before drying, is about five feet long and twenty-four to thirty inches wide, covered with very fine fur about SEA-UT three-fourths of an inch in length, having a rich jet black glossy surface, and exhibiting a silver ‘color when blown open. Those are esteemed the finest skins which have some white hairs interspersed and scattered over the whole surface, and a perfectly white head.” Mr. Sturgis said that it would give him more plea- sure to look at a splendid sea-otter skin than to examine half the pictures that are stuck up for exhibition, and puffed up by pretended connois- TER. seurs. In fact, excepting a beautiful woman and a lovely infant, he regarded them as among the most attractive natural objects that can be placeg before him. Besides the 15,000 skins collected by American traders in 1802, probably the Russians obtained 10,000 the same year within their hunting limits, making an aggre- gate of 25,000 in one season. Mr. Sturgis said he had personally collected 6,000 in one single voyage, and he once purchased 560 of prime

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FURS FOR THE LADIES, nnn quality in halfa day. At the present time, the whole amount collected annually within the same limits does not exceed 200, and those of very ordinary quality. ** The commercial value of the sea-otter skin, like other commodities, has varied with, the changes in the relation of supply and demand. “The narrative of Cook’s voyage shows the value of a prime skin to have been at the time of that voyage $120. In 1802, when the largest cvllection was made, the average price of large and small skins at Canton was only about $20 At the present time, those of the first Some seventy each. quality would sell readily at $150. or eighty ordinary California skins brought home a few months ago, were sold here at nearly $60 each, to send to the north of Europe.” Mr. Sturg altogether a of blankets, coarse cloths, greatcoats, and and coarse cottons, cutlery, and hardware, a great , &c.; in fact, everything that Copper has long been known, The lecturer is said the trade on the coast was It consisted, i fire-arms, barter trade. n part, ammunition, rice, molasses, biscuits, variety of trinkets, one can imagine. and highly prized by the Indians. observed that he had seen pieces of virgin cop- per among different tribes, that weighed fifty or it was put to no but sixty pounds each. use, still was considered very valuable, and a person having a few pieces was considered a wealthy man. The natives had no currency; but the skin found in limited numbers unon of the ermine a \) nt SX f as VOL. L.—10 AND HOW THEY ARE OBTAINED. 109 the northern part of the continent, was held in such universal estimation, and of such uniform value among many tribes, that it in a measure supplied the place of currency. Urged by some Indian friends, in 1802 Mr, Sturgis obtained, and sent home a fine specimen, with a request that a quantity should be ordered at the annual Leipsic fair, where he suppored they might be obtained. About 5,000 were pro- cured, which he took ont with him on the next voyage, 1804, Having previously eucuuraged the Indians to expect them, the first he had “clicks” (the Indian name tor the ermine skin) for sale; and, being answered iw the athrinative, and arriveé «at Kingarace 1 nestion was, i great earnestness was manifested to vbtain them; and it was on that occasion that be purchased 560 prime sea-otter skins—at that time worth $50 a piece at Canton—in a single forenoon, giving for each five ermine skins, that cust iess than thirty cents each in Boston. in disposing of all his ermines at the same rate, before others carried them out; but uw !ess than two years from that time one hundree of them He succeeded would not bring one otter skin. The common oilter has a body about two long, a flat and broad tail, short strong legs, and broad webbed feet, and feeds chiefly on fish. if has two kinds of nair—one long and stiff, and feet the other exceedingly fine and soft, in color light gray with a brown tip. It can, though with some difficulty, be domesticated, and even truined to fish for its master.

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MODEL HUSBANDS. BY T. 8. NO. Ir is, at all times, a difficult thing for two minds long accustomed to individual, independ- ent action, to bend the will in a spirit of mu- tual concession. Much unhappiness in the early days of married life is dependent on this cause, even where correct principles and genuine regard exist on both sides. A false, or rather exagge- rated ideal of married life, as well in the young husband as in the young bride, quite as fre- quently involves a little world of disappoint- ment, if not temporary or lasting wretchedness. The young bride's ideal too rarely presents any scenes of ordinary work-day life, so to speak. If she realizes anything of toil and duty, the whole has so poetic a tinge that it excites her mind with a sense of pleasure. No weariness, no reluctance, no self-denial, is included; these enter not into her imaginary pictures. Colder, more matter-of-fact, and perhaps more selfish, the young husband has been fondly dreaming of the home-comforts and domestic felicities that were to cluster around him. His imagination has thrown warm colors over the more real and sub- stantial things of life. He has seen the loved and loving one busy in household duties, and occupying every moment of his absence in pre- paring home pleasures for his return. She is to be the ministering angel of his life, and he the almost passive recipient of her unselfish minis- trations. The self-negating lover, whose every thought and act was a deference to the wishes and pleasures of the gentle creature whose heart he had won, is to change all at once his relation, and to become the object of an ever active and ever fond solicitation. How inevitable the disappointment in both cases! What a sensation of chilliness pervades their young hearts at the first contact with life and its cold realities! How bewildered and wretched they are fora time! How often, alas! does estrangement take place—estrangement that endures for life. Such was the false ideal in the mind of Charles Lawson when, as a husband, he pressed his lips upon those of his sweet young bride, and felt himself the happiest man in existence. From the marriage altar he bore her to the pleasant home he had fitted up with all the elegance his 110 ARTHUR, IIl.—A BETTER SPECIMEN. means would afford, and proudly installed her the mistress. As competent to take charge of a household he believed her to be, as he was to assume the conduct of a responsible business agency that had been intrusted to his care. In this, however, he was doomed to disappointment. Like so large a proportion of our American young ladies, Mrs. Lawson’s education had been far more ornamental than useful. She under- stood French and embroidery, but was ignorant in regard to toast and coffee; she could play on the piano exquisitely, but her hands were un- skilled in the art of bread-making; far more familiar was she with Italian airs than the singing of a teakettle; and she could detect a false note in the one far quicker than a false note in the other. And so it was, strike the line of comparison at any point you pleased, between the ornamental and the useful in the list of her acquirements. It was not long before Lawson’s ideal of home life was clouded. He did not find, on the part of his young bride, such an entire devotion of her- self to his comfort as he had anticipated. She appeared to take no pleasure in household duties, but rather evinced a feeling of repugnance thereto, and evidently regarded such a thing as the application of her own hands in the culinary department as measurably degrading. Young housekeepers are not usually very for- tunate in their first choice of domestics, and Charles Lawson and his wife were no exception to the rule. A newly impgerted Irish girl, who was installed as the responsible and irresponsi- ble head of the kitchen department, scattered, in the course of a single week, all the husband’s pleasant anticipations in regard to table comfort to the winds. With some little philosophy, he bore this clouding of his ideal; yet in his thoughts were many questions and doubts touching the conduct of his young wife, who was grieved when he pushed aside his unpalatable food, and hurt if he seemed to regard her as at all in fault, yet who never appeared to think she could, ‘by personal attention, remedy the evil. Thus it went on, week after week, and month after month, the young husband often growing so impatient, under the disorder and tack of com-

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MODEL HUSBANDS. lll fort at home, that it was only by a strong effort that he kept himself from the utterance of harsh and cutting censure. Of course, under such a state of mind, his countenance was often over- shadowed; then his young wife would evince anxicty in regard to him, and, by tender words, seek to draw forth the cause of his depression, Often it was on his lips to explain to her how she might remedy the evils from which he suf- fered, but, on more than one occasion, he had noticed her extreme sensitiveness to blame, if uttered by him, and he refrained from speaking, lest he should wound too deeply. Mrs. Lawson was not without her disappointed experiences. The husband was proving himself a different man from the lover. Before their marriage, all his thoughts seemed for her plea- sure; now, it was too plainly evident that he thought more of his own comfort, and rarely failed to exhibit signs of impatience if, in any- thing, she failed to anticipate his wants and wishes. How often she sighed for the lover- like attentions which the husband no longer felt himself required to pay! The expected kiss at parting, or on coming home, ws not always received, and, too frequently, the joy of meeting was soon dispelled by some sharp defect—which a little forethought on her part might have removed—wounding his morbid sensitiveness. One day Charles Lawson came home to din- ner with an unusually good appetite, which, as he had sent from market a favorite article to be cooked, imagination considerably heightened. As he entered the street door, a stifling odor of burnt gravy assailed him, and he knew, in an instant, that his dinner was spoiled. At the same instant, the voice of his wife, lingering with exquisite grace and expression on the music of a beautiful air, fell upon his ear. The air was one of his favorites, and this his wife knew ; in fact, she was momentarily expecting him, and was now singing, in order that she might give him pleasure on his entrance. She would have been wiser had she devoted this particular time to an observation of her cook; and much more likely to attain the end she sought. Still, she was sincere and unselfish in her purpose. The heart was right, but the head not well instructed. The sweet voice and beautiful air fell like a jar of discord on the ears of Lawson. He had many times spoken coldly, and occasionally, under a strong impulse, with unkindness to his young wife; but never harshly. That he had not done so was a result of rigid self-control. Often, very often, harsh words were on his tongue, but, until this time, he had been able to ORR AAPA - . ——ne ee eee ~—_—e—eee repress them. He was weaker, or more excited now; for, throwing open, with a quick hand, the parlor door, he confronted, with a scowling brow, his wife, and ere pausing for reflection, said— ** If I were a woman, I’d find some other time for musical recreations. A nice dinner we shall have!” How instantly the face of Mrs. Lawson grew pallid! How quickly her hands fell nervously on the silent keys! From what a height of tender enthusiasm for her husband did her heart go down, bruised and bleeding in the fall! Charles Lawson had erred in his excitement, and he saw and bitterly repented of his error. Other cruel words were forming in his mind, but he checked their utterance. Angry feelings were still predominant, but he repressed them witb so strong an effort that they quickly subsided, giving place to tender regret, and an earnest, unselfish desire to repair the wrong he had done; but so sudden and unexpected an assault wounded deepiy—too deeply for the suffering heart to per- ceive the healing influence of a changed manner, and the first utterance of kinder words, $ For a little while, the pale, startled creature sat almost as if paralyzed; then, as a torrent of tears gushed over her cheeks, she rose up, and, passing from the room, went to her chamber, where she remained, in resistance of all her repentant husband’s earnest entreaties to join him at the dinner-table. As amere form, Law- son sat down alone to the wretchedly cooked meal, which, even wilh an appetite, would have been unpalatable, but which now he regarded with loathing. The afternoon that succeeded was, to him, one of close self-communion, and an earnest effort to see what was his true course of action. The life-long happiness or misery of both himself and wife he clearly saw was involved. At first, he was strongly inclined to blame his wife for her lack of interest in household affairs, involv- ing, as he harshly called it, a “selfish love of ease.” Still further reflection led him to see that a good deal of selfishness was included in his own state of mind; that he was more dis- posed to regard his home as a place where he was to be entertained as a guest, than as the sweet retiring spot from the busy world, where mutual love found its highest delight in secking to bless its object. The pleasure he was to re- ceive, not the pleasure he was to bestow, had the uppermost place in his mind; he had, in a word, thought more of himself than of his wife, who, not so much from a selfish regard tor ber

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112 own ease as from ignorance and false notions of her duty, failed to secure for her husband the external order and comfort he so much desired. In this better and wiser state, Mr. Lawson returned to his home at the close of day, resolved to think less of mere table enjoyment, and to seek a higher pleasure in what was social and intellectual. His good resolutions were to be severely tried. There were neither table enjoy- ments nor sweet social pleasures. A dark shadow was still on the spirit of his wife, whose clouded brow and cold, distant manner chilled all his warm feelings towards her, and awakened the accusing spirit he had so earnestly been seeking to allay. The evening that succeeded was the most unhappy they had ever spent. Several times it was on the lip of Mr. Lawson to refer to the cause of this sad state; to speak plainly to his wife of the defects in her housekeeping that were marring everything, and to endeavor to make her aware of the pleasure she could give her husband by a more earnest and intelligent devotion to culinary and other details; but, as his thought would come near to utterance, cer- tain almost instinctive considerations would check the words just forming on his tongue. ** This is all too selfish!” would then be the quick revulsion of his thoughts. “Is our life- enjoyment to depend on mere table pleasures? Am I so sensually inclined that I make a good meal the centre of all home delights? No—no; I will not speak of it. I will not let her see this weakness—this grossness of character. Let me rather seek to overcome a tendency which, if pampered and indulged, might gain a degree of power at once weakening to the intellect and debasing to the man.” It was, perhaps, well that Mr. Lawson thus reasoned with himself, and kept silence. The mind of his young wife, obscured by a false edu- cation, and warped in its perception of womanly duties through early association with those of her own sex who had wrong views, was, in this first dark night of her life-experiences, beginning to have glimpses of a true light. A few feeble star rays were glimmering down upon her, and her eyes were lifted to them earnestly, and with a dawning hope that she might be able to com- prehend the mystic language they seemed utter- ing to her spirit. In that time, had her husband began to speak coldly, and with something of a husband’s tone of authority, portraying a wife’s duties and obligations, his words would have been clouds covering the sky in which the stars were glimmering. She would have been in dark- ness again, and groping about, would assuredly have, for a time, lost her way. GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. In his denial of self, Mr. Lawson gave his wife strength ; yes, and more than this, found a cleared mind, better purposes, and a more for- bearing spirit. The few words spoken by him during this evening of darkness and trial, instead of being didactic and in the tone of one who has a right to complain, were full of a genuine ten- derness. Instead of clouding the young wife’s struggling mind, they made it clearer, and filled it with innumerable stars, from each one of which came down rays of light to make the path of duty she wished to tread clearer for her ‘hesi- tating feet. Wiser were both on the opening of another day; wiser because each was more forgetful of self. From that time a new era dawned on their lives. The husband had seen clearly that he was basing his home pleasures too much on mere external arrangement and sensual gratification ; while the wife perceived that, without external order and a due regard to what was excellent in ministering to natural appetites, the mind would fail to have an undisturbed resting-place. Gra- dually she acquired a knowledge of her hus- band’s peculiarities, and, in seeking to meet them, found a genuine pleasure. How evenly poised once stood the balance! happiness in one scale, and wretchedness in the other. A passionate word, and cold, selfish assumption of right, and sentence of condemna- tion on the husband’s part, might have given a wrong preponderance, and turned the scale for- Happily, in the moment of severe trial, Would ever! the good in him rose superior to the evil. that it were ever so! Not always does it happen that the young husband of Mr. Lawson’s temperament—he is one of a class—acts, under like circumstances, as wisely and forbearingly. Too often he be- comes dictatorial and exacting, seeking to com- pel household order and a regard to his particular appetites and pleasures. Sometimes a prolonged ' struggle ensues, ending by a sort of forced com- pliance on the wife’s part, at the cost of dimi- nished affection. The husband she regards as a sort of domestic tyrant, and she as a weak slave. Sometimes the effort on both sides to harmonize, is made fruitless, for a long while, by the hus- band’s blind impatience breaking out day after day, for weeks and months, as in the case of Lawson in a single instance. So much for our “ better specimen” of a hus- band. He is not perfect by any means; but, if there were more such in the world, there would be more happier homes than now.

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LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRY-COOK’S: BEING THE CLANDESTINE CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN KITTY CLOVER AT SCHOOL, AND HER “ DEAR, DEAR FRIEND” IN TOWN. EDITED BY HORACE MAYHEW. THE FOURTEENTH LETTER LEFT. (Date blotted out this time, decidedly with tears.) SHOWING WHAT WAS THE CAUSE OF THE POSTPONEMENT OF THE BALL. To-morrow is our grand ball, Nelly; but all thoughts of the coming joy have been put aside. Our dresses have been brought out in all their smartness: but they lie upon our beds un- touched, almost unnoticed. There is sorrow, dear, in the house, and every tongue is still as if the grief were its own, and not another per- son’s. Mrs. Dove is so ill that, when you look at her, you are obliged to turn your head for fear of making her grief greater by any exhibition of your own. You long to relieve her; you ad- vance to offer what little aid you can, but tears quickly warn you to retreat, and you feel that the greatest charity is to leave her alone; that, after all, the best sympathy your heart can show is that of silence. There is such sanctity about her sorrow that you imagine the only words to approach it with should be those of prayer. Last Sunday she fainted in church, causing a commotion which brought a letter of complaint from the Rev. Mr. Whyte Choker the following day. The Lady Principal was very cross; and, to listen to her reproaches, you would imagine that Mrs. Dove had done it on purpose. She attributed it entirely to her “delicacy,” and made some harsh remarks about “ladies always taking care to choose the best opportunity for fainting.” But Blight was of a different opinion. She thought there was more illness in the ac- cident than purpose or affectation; and she redoubled her attentions to her sister-teacher, dressing her boy of a morning, encouraging her in all her tasks, and helping her as much as she could. The first visit, too, Dr. Healy made, she waylaid him on the staircase, and told him how she feared the poor young widow was seriously ill. They went together to the Lady Principal, and then Mrs. Dove was summoned to the bou- doir She stood at the door, with her hand upon the handle, for full five minutes, before she dared go in! 10° ) She came out, dear Nelly, supported by Blight, and weeping violently. She was holding her boy convulsively to her breast, as if afraid that some one was about to tear him away from her; and though her kind supporter was offering every consolation her good heart could think of, still it was evident that not one word entered her ears, or had the slightest effect in stilling the tempest of her passion. Her soul was deafened with the loud noise of its own grief too much to listen, at that moment, to the gentle voice of kindness. All entreaties failed, and, crying as if her heart must break, we saw her carried up stairs to bed, where at least her anguish would be undisturbed by noise and prying looks, As soon as Blight came down, we gathered round her, and she told us the Doctor had said it was “a rapid consumption,” and that she would not live a month, unless immediate change of air and scene were procured. He strictly forbade her looking into a book, and solemnly cautioned her, as she loved her child, and wished to save his life, neither to sleep with him, nor to caress him—in short, not to allow him to be with her more than she could posi- tively help. In fact, to be plain, if she could make up her mind to a total separation, it would be better both for her and for the boy. This decision hurt her (so Blight said) a thousand times more than the knowledge of her own: serious illness. For that she seemed to care but little; but to be told that she must be separated from the only object that made life sweet, seemed to stab her to the heart. To sce her boy outstretch his little arms, and to be obliged to turn away and deny him the kisses he was begging for, was a privation of affection that her mother’s whole nature revolted at! Her child was her only happiness in this world; and now she mustn’t indulge in that! nay, worse, she must deny herself all intercourse with him, and, blinding her eyes to his endear- ing smiles, she must walk away with greater indifference even than if the child had been a stranger’s! It was a dreadful struggle, which Blight hopes she may never see again. The baby was crying to go to his distressed mother, 113

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114 GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. and she was shrinking from him, and creeping round the table to avoid his childish caresses. Then she snatched him up wildly, and covered him with frantic kisses; then, as suddenly, she turned aside her head, as though there were poison in her breath, and she was afraid that one particle of it might fall upon him, and wither the only flower of her life. Unclasping his arm from around her neck, she laid him yently down, and rushed madly to the opposite side of the room, where she fell exhausted upon the floor. Whilst she was insensible, her child was carried away. At this point, Blight, whom we were all thanking for her sisterly kindness, was called out to assist at a general council. There were present all the governesses, including Twigg, and, of course, the redoubtable Snapp. Miss Priscilla Hextra was leaning against the corner of the mantel-piece, and the Lady Principal pre- sided at the head of the rosewood table, wring- ing her hands as if she was washing them, which is a habit of hers whenever the boiled mutton is too underdone, or she is at all put out by any little scholastic excitement. ‘ What was to be done?” She had assumed a very false position in receiving Mrs. Dove with her infant into the school; and she would take very good care she never did such a foolish thing again! It was wrong of her to allow feeling to silence judgment; and now she bitterly repented of it. The facts were these. Mrs. Dove had formerly been educated at her college, and a very good pupil she was. Well, after the death of her profligate husband, she had consented, much out of pity, to accept a small premium— an exceedingiy small premium—to maintain them in comfort until a situation could be found for the mother as a governess, which duty she was sorely afraid she would never be qualified to fulfil. However, that trifle had long ago been consumed—in fact, it had barely covered the first year’s expenditure. Now, she was the last person to behave unfeelingly, or to wish to turn them out of the house; but she wanted to know what was to become of them? She really could not afford the expense of a lingering illness, that, for anything she knew, might terminate fatally; and then the child would be left desti- tate upon her hands. As for property, she knew Mrs. Dove had parted with everything to enable her to enter the college; and as for relations, both her father and mother were dead, and she doubted if she had a respectable friend in the world. One thing, however, was certain. Mrs. Dove must appeal for aid elsewhere. She did not wish to be harsh; but still the exigencies } : $ of the case were such as to render her immediate removal from the Princesses’ College a matter of unavoidable necessity. It was preposterous to suppose she could permit a death in her house. It might be fatal to the interests of her establishment. The parents might take alarm —might fancy it was some contagious or infec- tious disease—and, in less than a week, all the young ladies might be fetched away, to the great benefit of Mrs. Spankit, who, she had no doubt, would be delighted to receive every one of her pupils. No; it was a source of great grief for her to say so; but Mrs. Dove must leave as soon as her health, for which she entertained the greatest anxiety, would permit; and, as for the boy, he must be removed instantly.” Blight pleaded, dearest Nelly, as if she had been pleading for her life. She only asked for “charity for a dying widow.” She spoke with all the eloquence of a woman’s heart; but there was no woman’s heart to listen to her. The Lady Principal had steeled herself in alarm— had regularly encased herself in a full-length suit of selfish fears—and there was no touching her in any one point. She was impenetrable to pity, and to all the noble feelings which gene- rally touch a woman’s nature, and make her hold out the hand of charity to another in dis- tress. The governesses promised to subscribe amongst themselves for any additional expense she might be put to on account of the illness of Mrs. Dove; but no, the respectability of the establishment must be considered above all things—and she felt herself bound to refuse their offer, though she was profoundly moved by the generosity of it. The battle was over. Poor Blight abandoned the attack in hopeless discomfiture, finding that her appeals to kind- ness only flew off blunted and pointless from the hard armor of calculation in which her mistress had arrayed herself for the occasion. Oh, I thought to myself all the time 1 was listening to these sorrowful particulars, if this cruelty had only been known before the sub- scriptions were collected for the Lady Princi- pal’s birthday-present, every girl would have flung all her money out of the window soone1 than have subscribed a single shilling for that beautiful time-piece ! Well, Nelly, after a long hour had been spent in useless talk and tears, the council was break- ing up, when the Lady Principal, alarmed pro- bably by a cry of her awakening conscience, called them back, and made this concession: * Poor Mrs. Dove might linger through her few remaining days in peace at the college, provided the boy were immediately removed to some more

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TAKE BACK THE HARP. 115 appropriate abode, and a guarantee given for the expenses of the funeral.” Blight instantly gave her own word as a guarantee for the latter (how can she do it, Nelly, with all her recent claims? But it’s my firm belief that the girls won’t allow her to pay a farthing of them, supposing it ever should come to a struggle of emulation, which I pray with all my heart that it never may), and so the deputation left the drawing-room. How Blight managed to. break this fresh sor- row to her friend, and how she succeeded in supporting her through the agony of that long sleepless night, are mysteries of kindness, which we did not attempt to inquire into, but which have only made us admire our poor persecuted governess the more, and been the cause of our all vowing never, under any pretence, to tease her again. * * . * e e om * * The sun, darting into our little bedroom, awoke me very early this morning, Nelly. It was so happy and brilliant—as brilliant as I should like to see it on my wedding-day—that I couldn’t sleep. I stole noiselessly along the corridor, and peeped into Blight’s chamber. Mrs. Dove was asleep in her bed; and Blight was lying outside, with her clothes on, asleep also. She had evidently fallen at last, with the fatigue of watching. The sun was shining brightly on them both. On the poor widow’s face it fell as on a marble statue, so deadly pale, so immovable were the features. On the poor governess’s face, it alighted, as I thought, as on a sleeping angel. Her head was bathed in light, and around it I thought the rays drew a golden line, that burned before my worshipping eyes like a halo of glory. I blessed her in the secrecy of my soul, and, kneeling, kissed the hem of her garment. There was a slight noise—I tried to rise, but couldn’t—some strong power kept me on my knees. Blight awoke, and, seeing me, pressed me passionately to her breast, and wept, dear, wept like a mother over me. Oh, Nelly, may the purity of these tears, flow- ing from so good a woman, wash away all the stains out of my foolish heart, and turn all that is black in it as bright as the halo I saw this morning shining round her head! She lifted me up, and carried me back to my room, where, kissing me, she bade me not to say a word of what had passed. She then tucked me up in my little bed, and enjoining me ten- derly “‘ always to be a good girl,” left me, with another kiss, long before any of the girls were awake. * ° . * . + > 7 i o + © nnn enw een The ball has been postponed, as I have already i eee eee. told you, Nelly. What a change two short days have made in the school! One day we were full of hopes and schemes—our thoughts played with nothing but ribbons, and flowers, and flounces—and the next our hopes, like ala our voices, have been hushed, and the most boisterous expression of joy you can hear is a whisper. Only yesterday we were practising Valses a@ Deux Temps until we were tired, first of being the gentleman and then the lady, and now our footsteps, as we walk in twos-and- twos slowly up and down the room, sound with a hollow echo as if we were walking in a vault. Yesterday we were trying on each other’s ear- rings and finery, and amusing ourselves with anticipations of Blight’s ball-room dress, won- dering where the drop of ink would be this time, and at present we are lost in admiration of her noble devotion to Mrs. Dove, and thinking that there is something finer in this world than fine clothes. But hush, here comes Mrs. Dove—so fearfully changed in so short a time—looking sad, but resigned—a saint in suffering. She is leading by the hand her little boy. He is laughing and gambolling by her side, unconscious of the pang each merry tone is sending to his mother’s heart. Instantly, upon her arrival, the conversation ceases, as if we were entering a church, and all eyes and thoughts are turned to the poor doomed martyr. Blight advances to receive her, and the two retire together into a quiet corner, and there, for the present, Nelly, let us leave them, I promise to tell you the remainder of this sad story in my next. Yours, my pretty Eleanor, Very, very affectionately, Kirry. TAKE BACK THE HARP BY D. HARDY, JR. TuHovGH Sorrow, with her gloomy train, Rests on my spirit’s wing, They bid me take my harp again, And touch each trembling string; They bid me wake some olden song, As if my summer days Had shaken sunbeams from their wings, To warm my autumn lays. As once I struck the magic lyre I cannot strike it now, For with each passing year I ’ve felt The roses leave my brow. Take back the harp—I cannot sing, For joy no more is mine, And thorns are growing in my heart, Where blossoms used to twine

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GODEY’S COURSE OF LESSONS IN DRAWING. LESSON XIV. PERSPECTIVE DRAWING. Ir is important that the learner, before com- mencing the necessary instructions in this pleas- ing art, should have a correct idea of the critical meaning of the word Perspective, and of the purpose which it is more immediately intended to effect. Its meaning is, the exact appearance which objects assume when viewed from any given point or station; its purpose, the repre- sentation of such objects on a plane surface, as a sheet of drawing-paper, in exact accordance with such appearance. In the work on Geometrical Drawing, instruc- tions have been given how to describe squares, circles, and various other regular and irregular figures. But those instructions refer exclusively to their geometrical representation, as they would appear on a plane surface at right angles with the line of vision, that is, placed directly oppo- site to the eye. If, however, they be not exactly opposite to the eye of the spectator, they will assume different outlines, according as they may be situated above it, below it, towards the right hand, or towards the left. Now, in a view em- bracing ‘a considerable number of objects, one only of those objects can be situated exactly opposite to the eye; the remainder will all be viewed more or less at an angle, according to their respective positions. Therefore, one only of those objects, if truly represented exactly as they appear, can present a geometricai outline ; the others will all have perspective outlines, presenting two or more of their sides to the view at the same time. This will be obvious after consulting the accompanying illustration, which gives a series of correct perspective representa- tions of a thick book, which the reader is sup- posed to hold in her hand in various positions consecutively. If she hold it up level, with one of its edges opposite to her eye, its form and . Fig. 1. & D FE appearance will be that shown at A, in which she will see nothing but a geometrical view of that edge; if, keeping it at the same level, she move it towards the left, a second edge will come into view, as at B; if towards the right, the last-named edge will disappear, but the back of the book will be seen, as at C. If she now bring it back to the first position A, and elevate it somewhat, the front and back edges will both disappear, and the lower side will be seen, as at D; by moving it at the same level towards the left, three of its surfaces wiil come into view, as at E, or towards the right, as at F, the lower side being in both tuese cases scen as well as the two ages. Let the book now be held, at G, as much 116 —— cK 7 c below the eye as it was previously above it; its lower side has now disappeared, and the upper side becomes visible; and by moving it to the left (H), or to the right (1), three surfaces again become visible, as when the book was held at E and F; with this difference, that the upper side of the book is now visible instead of the lower. It will be observed that, in each of these nine positions, a comparatively slight change of posi- tion has effected a material change in the outline of the figure presented by the book ; its boundary lines assuming different slopes, and different sides or edges coming into view or disappearing, according as it has been shifted upwards or downwards, to the right or to the left. The

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GODEY’S COURSE OF main object of ,perspective is to discover and apply the rules which regulate these varying slopes and inclinations of the boundary-lines of objects, by which the draughtsman may be ena- bled to transfer to paper a faithful delineation of them exactly as they appear. The student is recommended to go through this simple exercise with any thick book; taking care, as she brings it into its successive positions, and observes the outline presented, to keep her head steady, so that her eye may retain its ori- ginal level and position. A writing-desk, chess- box, or any object of similar shape that may be at hand, will answer the purpose quite as well; and by thus making her observations and exer- cising her thoughts upon simple and familiar objects, she will easily acquire a clear idea of the change of outline produced by a change in the position of the object relatively with the specta- tor. This branch of the art is denominated Linear Perspective, inasmuch as it refers exclu- sively to the lines which constitute the bounda- ries of objects and determine their form. And as form is the basis of correct drawing or paint- ing, which determines the position and extent of each of the various colors to be superadded to give increased effect to the form, the principles and practice of linear perspective will be first treated of; reserving for the latter part of this section the more advanced subject of Aerial Perspective, which refers entirely to the various degrees of depth or force of color and shadow, by which various distances can be more naturally and effectively denoted than is possible by mere LESSONS IN DRAWING. 117 diminution of size, and the knowledge of which is essentially necessary in every case where it is proposed to superadd to a correct copying of natural forms, those increased effects which result from the further imitation of nature, by adopting her gradations of color and shade. It will be obvious to any person standing at the end of along straight street, and looking along it observantly, that the line of the curb-stones, which separate the pavement from the roadway, and also these lines of the payement which run in the same direction as the curb-stones, that is, along the street, appear to draw nearer to each other as they recede from him; and if the street be a very long one, they will approach each other so nearly as almost to meet ina point. If he look at the curb-line and other lines of pave- ment on the other side of the street, he will perceive in them a still greater inclination, all apparently tending towards the same point, and which point will appear to be somewhere in front of him. Turning his eye upwards, he will remark the’ same curious effect in the cornices of the houses; which, with the window-sills, the tops of the railings, the lintels of the doors, and the lines of the shop-fronts, all manifest the same tendency to approach each other, and meet at some remote point at the end of the street. He will observe, further, that lines on or near the ground all point rather upwards; those about as high as his own head are tolerably level; while those which begin much above his head, such as the cornices and heads and sills of the upper windows, all incline downwards; also, Fig. 2.

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118 eee eee that the higher the latter are at any point near him, the greater is their slope downwards as they recede from him (fig. 2). A similar effect may be observed by any per- son standing at the end of a long avenue of trees, and looking along it. The convergence of the lines of the feet of the trees, the com- mencement of the fo- aeenenenne Fig. 3. liage, &c., is almost equally manifest (fig. 3). If, again, the observer walk on until he arrive at a crossing where the street is intersected by another street, and then cast his eye diagonally across it, so as to face the corner opposite to that at which he makes his observations, he will per- GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE, | | , SS A ceive a totally different result. None of the lines of the first named street appear to meet in front of him, though they still manifest a tendency to approach each other, and meet in some distant point far away on one side; while those of the second street which has come into view appear all to tend towards some second point at the other side. This effect will be recognized with the aid of the street view in fig. 4. The same effect may be observed in any room. Let the learner stand at the end of an apartment, and note the direction of the lines of the ceiling, walls, and floor. She will find that those lines which are as high from the floor as her head, are level or horizontal; those of the ceiling, which are above it, slope downwards as they recede from her; those of the floor, which are below it, slope upwards. The degree of this slope or inclination increases near the ceiling and floor, and continues to do so till, at one part of the room, the lines assume a vertical position ; thus showing that they all appear to converge to- Fig. 4. wards some unknown point, though well known to be all in reality parallel and horizontal. Now, since flat or plain surfaces are bounded by lines, it follows that changes in the direction of such boundary-lines cause corresponding changes in the form of the planes which they inclose. The ceiling, floor, and sides of the reom are planes whose perspective appearance and form are determined by the lines at which* they meet each other; and such plane surfaces will seem to converge just as lines do. In the street view (fig. 4), for instance, the sides of the houses form such converging planes. After lines and planes comes the consideration of solids. As planes are denoted by lines repre- senting their external configuration, in like man- ner are solids denoted by planes representing the forms of their various sides. A house, a book, or other object composed of straight lines, may be looked on as a solid body whose external form is an arrangement of various planes: and the true perspective representation of such solid

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GOLD FISH. 119 will be composed of perspective views of such of these planes as can be seen at once by the spectator from any given station. Thus in fig. ], the sides and edges of the book are planes, of which one, two, or three, according to its posi- tion with respect to the spectator, are seen in perspective at once. And as the perspective appearance of planes is changed by any change in the direction of their boundary-lines, so is that of solids changed by changes in the outlines of their constituent planes. And having shown that lines and planes change their appearance according to the position from which they are viewed, it follows that the point of view has a corresponding effect on the outlines and appear- ance of solids. GOLD Few objects can be more ornamental or amusing than a glass globe containing gold fish. The double refractions of the glass and water represent them, when in motion, in a most beautiful variety of sizes, shades, and colors, while the two mediums, glass and water, assisted by the concavo-convex form of the vessel, mag- nify and distort them; besides, we have the gratification of introducing another element and its beautiful inhabitants into our very parlors and drawing-rooms. Some persons, however, exhibit their gold fish in, to say the least, a very extraordinary manner. They have a hollow globe in the interior of the one containing the fish, and in this hollow globe they put a canary, or other small cage bird, which appears to be hopping in the midst of the water, while the fish are swim- ming in acircle round it. This conceit, as our ancestors would have termed it, is tasteless and unnatural, and, in an esthetic point of view, richly deserves the severest reprobation. Though gold fish are seen to the greatest advantage when kept in glass globes, yet we regret to be compelled to say that they are very unsuitable dwellings for them. Just let consider, for a moment, the conditions which are absolutely necessary for the health and even the existence of fish, and we will find that a glass globe, however beautiful they may appear in it, is one of the most inappropriate of vessels for keeping them in. In the first place, they re- quire abundance of air. Now, scarcely any other shape than a globular one contains so much water with so little exposure to the air. Fish, too, require shade, not when we choose to give it to them, but when they feel the want of it; and it need scarcely be observed that all day long a glass globe is in a blaze of light. Still us more, the water in a globe must be daily changed, consequently the fish must be lifted out either by the hand or a small net; and it is utterly FISH. impossible, however careful we may be, to handle or net these delicate, little, struggling creatures without injuring them, at one time or another. Indeed, we find—and we have had no little experience in the management of gold fish —that when we take a few from our store pond and put them in globes, they very soon begin to lose their brilliant colors, become diseased, and die. aware of this fact, and keep constantly shifting from the pond to the globe, and vice versa. Where there can be a contrivance made for letting a flow of water, be it ever so small, say a drop a minute, in and out of the vessel con- taining the fish, the water will not require to be changed; and a small water-plant would afford the required shade, But, as the globe will ever be the most popu- lar domicil for these fish, we shall give a few directions respecting how they should be treated in it. When purchasing a globe, procure as wide-mouthed a one as possible, and subse- quently never let it be more than three parts full of water. By these means you will secure as much air for the fish as is possible under the circumstances. Keep the globe also in the most airy part of the room, never letting it be in the sun, nor near the fire. Change the water daily, and handle the fish tenderly when doing so. Some persons, when changing, use a small net, some the hand; we cannot say which is the better, but would advise our readers to use that which they may find the handier. Never give the fish any food; all they require, when in a globe, is plenty of fresh air and fresh water. They will derive sufficient nutriment from the animalcule contained in the water. Numbers of people kill their gold fish by giving them bread. Now, we do not deny that bread 1s good for gold fish, and that they will eat it, but the uneaten crumbs immediately get sour and dete- riorate the water, to the great injury of the fish. The large dealers in these fish are well

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120 — —— — ee eeeeeeeeeeEeEeEeEEeEEOem—™~” One hint more: If, on getting up in the morn- ing, you find a fish missing, and can discover no traces of it, you must not conclude that it has taken wings to itself and flown away, but that the cat has hooked it out with her claws and eaten it. Not that pussy hated wet feet less, but that she loved fresh fish more. Two diseases, being the most frequent, may be pointed out as the principal ills which it is the lot of gold fish to be heirs to. Sometimes a fish seems less lively than usual, and, on aclose inspection, will have a sort of mealy look, and, in a day or two, this mealiness will turn out to be a parasitical fungus. We have heard of several remedies for this very mysterious disease, but never found any of them of the slightest use. There is absolutely nothing for it but to take the fish, at the first appearance of the disease, and throw it away, for it will not recover, and it will, infect the others, and thus destroy the whole stock. We would, however, advise the inexperienced gold fish keeper, whenever a fish seems unhealthy, to place it by itself for a few days ; he will then see whether the fungus makes its appearance ; if not, the fish may recover, and be returned to the globe. The other disease is apparently an affection of the air-bladder, arising from being supplied with too little air. We have found fish recover from it when removed from the globe and placed in a pond. When under the influence of this disease, the fish swims sideways, with its body bent as if its back were broken, and in a short time dies. Whenever these symptoms are observed, the fish should be placed in a large tub of water, and a small stream of water allowed to drop into it; the water, through dropping, becomes more aerated, and the fish, thus receiv- ing an abundant supply of air, will frequently recover. The variety of colors among gold fish are, in all probability, principally caused by their being a sort of semi-domesticated animals. The rab- bit, pigeon, duck, and many other animals, when domesticated, lose the distinctive markings of their race, and assume a variety of other colors. The young gold fish, also, are at first dark- cvlored—indeed, nearly black, changing more or less rapidly according to their constitutional power. Besides, we have reason to believe that the silver-colored fish are most generally old ones. ‘Lue reader must recollect that size in fish, as in men, does not always betoken advanced age. Sauvigny, a Freach naturalist of the last century, published a most elaborate work on gold fish, with colored representations of eighty- nine specimens, exhibiting almost every possible GODEY S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. ee —————— OOOO eae aeeems* PoP ADRAPA DD. PPP ALLA LAP ere aw shade or combination of brilliant orange, silver, and purple. Not only do these curious and interesting fish vary in color, but, what is more remarkable still, they vary in the number and size of their fins and tails, some having double anal fins, others triple tails; but when such anomalies occur, the other organs are deficient. Thus, the specimens with triple tails are sometimes without a vestige of dorsal fin. Out of twenty-four that we took out of our pond at random, and accurately ex- amined, a few years ago, we found that no two were exactly alike. Some had dorsal fins ex- tending more than half the length of the back ; others, on the other hand, had dorsal fins con- sisting of five or six rays only; and one, to our amazement, had no dorsal fin whatever, and yet preserved its perpendicular position in the water with apparently the same ease as any of the others. As it was generally supposed, at that time, that a fish could no more preserve its equilibrium without a dorsal fin than a man could dance on the tight-rope without a head, the reader may fancy our surprise, and readily ‘ believe that we immediately communicated the fact to a scientific friend, when we were informed that a celebrated ichthyologist had, from observ- ing a gold fish without a dorsal fin, been induced to make some experiments, the result of which proved that the fin was not of the extreme con- sequence previously attached to it. When gold fish are bred in ponds, under favorable circumstances, the young will attain the length of four or five inches in the first year; but their subsequent growth is much less rapid. The largest we have ever heard of, from an authentic source, did not exceed ten inches in length ; the largest we bave seen only measured nine. —-— ~woer — SONNET.—EVENING. BY WM. ALEXANDER. Tue gray-clad hour of Evening I do iove, Which ushers in Day’s sober sister, Night, When stars are smiling from their seats above, To fill man’s soul with rapture and delight. Now, insect-hum steals o’er the gummy air, To charm us with its shriller harmony, And to his cot the swain hastes to repair, While citizens give o’er anxiety. Fond lovers through the flower-gemmed meadows roam, To view the queen moon riding in the sky, And trav’llers hasten now to find a home In some safe inn or caravansery. To me most dear is Contemplation’s hour, When Stillness reigns with all her soothing power.

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THE SYMPATHY MEETING. BY MARION HARLAND, AUTHOR OF “ MARRYING THROUGH PRUDENTIAL MOTIVES,” “THE THRICE WEDDED,” AND THE NOVEL OF “ ALONE.” “ There ’s a chield amang you takin’ notes, And, faith, he’ll prent ’em.” “IT wap acall from your friend Mrs. Parks, this morning,” said Mrs. Cushman to her hus- band, who had lingered to chat with her for- half an hour after their boarding-house dinner. The honey-moon was hardly over, which fact may account for this extraordinary procedure on his part. “Indeed,” he rejoined, with an appearance of great interest, and added that most stupid, yet most natural of questions, which everybody asks and nobody likes to answer, “ What did she say ?” ** Oh, she was very pleasant, although she did not stay long. She only came to invite us to take tea with her this evening. I told her that I would go with pleasure, if you had no engage- ment to prevent your accompanying me.” Of course, I am at your service. All en- gagements, precontracts, etc., are null and void when they stand in the way of your happiness.” “Come, George,’’ interrupted the little lady, laughingly, pulling his ear just the least bit in the world, “‘you need not trouble yourself to make fine speeches to me now. Can you go or not?” “So you call my expressions of devotion ‘ fine speeches!’ What language shall I employ to convince you that I am ready, willing, and anxious to attend you? First, because you de- sire it. Secondly, Parks gives elegant suppers, and oysters are just in season; his cook has not an equal in the Union at a ‘scallop’ or ‘stew.’ Thirdly, Mrs. Parks matronized me in my celibacy, and I am desirous that she should see how well I have practised her thousand and one rules for selecting a wife, since mine has a virtue for each” “There, do stop, Parson Poundtext! you have got around to the point from whence you started. The party is to be small, and we ladies are to go, unceremoniously, with our work, early in the afternoon.” * An unceremonious afternoon !” repeated the provoking husband, slowly. ‘* What does that mean, Lizzie?” ** George, your nonsense would vex a saint.” But such she certainly war not, for she laughed voL. L.—l1 heartily. ‘ What a flow of spirits he has!” she said, as she saw him from the window lift his hat to her before he turned the corner. “I can never be gloomy in his presence, the dear fellow !”” When Mrs. Cushman and her unceremonious work-bag made their entrée into Mrs. Parks’s parlor, they found most of the afternoon guests already there. Our heroine’s reception was flatteringly cordial ; and she was speedily work- ing and chatting quite at her ease, casting, meanwhile, well-bred glances at the rest of the company. She had seen nearly all before at her “reception,” or when returning her bridal calls. There was but one stranger, and her name, * Oram,” did not seem new to her. She was still young, and retained traces of striking beauty, shadowed by a pensiveness that be- tokened sorrow or ill-health. Mrs, Cushman’s seat was next to hers; and even her manner of paying the compliments of the day, trite and commonplace in the mouths of most people, evinced a desire to contribute to her enjoyment, They were like old acquaintances in ten minutes. Mrs. Oram became more silent as the others joined in; and when, at length, they took the lead in the conversation, she spoke only at long intervals, as if to show that she was not selfish- ly inattentive. The news of the day was sum- marily disposed of by the dozen busy tongues. The new-style bonnet was pronounced “ shock- ingly unbecoming” to all but young and pretty faces, yet it appeared that each one present had either procured, or intended to purchase one; and those baggy incumbrances, by a fashionable misnomer called “ oriental” sleeves, which offi- ciate as spoon, ladle, or broom, as coffee, soup, or dust come within their sweep, were voted to be “exceedingly graceful and pleasant, espe- cially in summer.” One lady, who looked as if she might have been “literary,” affirming that they “gave quite a classic appearance to the figure.” The crochet-mat, then in Mrs. Cushman’s hands, was next admired, and several polite applications made for the pattern. **T am passionately fond of such work,” said Mrs. Harris, examining the iris-hued network ; “but, with my large family, recreation of any description is out of the question.” 121

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122 GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. ‘When do you expect to get into your new house, Mrs. Cushman?” inquired Mrs. Parks. * Before long, ' hope. I am very tired of boarding.” * Do you really prefer housekeeping ?” asked Mrs. Harris. “She has never tried it yet,’ said another, significantly. ‘She will change her tune in less than a month, and wish herself back in her boarding-house.” “I think not, Mrs. Lane. I am domestic in my tastes, and have a positive liking for what is generally termed the labor of keeping an establishment in order.” * You are inexperienced. You do not know what you are bringing upon yourself. When boarding, you can live just as you did while single; no bother about servants and dirt. Your husband comes in to a good dinner, over which you have not been puzzled and heated ; the house is clean from bottom to top—you never think how it is kept so; you have but to sew, visit, and enjoy yourself. I have tried both ways of living. Take my advice: rent out your house, stay where you are, and don’t fly into trouble before it comes to you.” Lizzie thought of the snug dwelling George had exhibited such taste in preparing for her, and was emboldened to reply, half proudly— * Indeed, I have no fears. As to inexperi- ence, I have kept my father’s house ever since my fifteenth year, and should never have re- signed the charge, but for my marriage.” “Ah, you will find this a different affair. Husbands and fathers are not alike easily satis- fied.” Again, George came to Lizzie’s aid. She con- trasted his indulgent good-nature with her father’s fastidiousness and capricious notice of whatever she did. “J should imagine that a husband would be | more apt to overlook the imperfections of a | novice than a parent, who considers it his duty to correct every fault.” * My dear Mrs. Cushman,” exclaimed Mrs. Merry, blue-eyed and rosy-cheeked, who was called “ Annie” by all, and-seemed to be a universal pet, “‘ you never were more mistaken in your life. But I don’t wonder; I was as silly once. I married as soon as I quitted school, with my head full of the noble, long holiday I was going to have. There was some- thing grand in the idea of being the head of a family, the lady of the house; and I coaxed Arthur to settle at once. He suggested renting until we should have made the experiment ; but I told him that I was not to be hauled from pil- ” lar to post in that way. I wanted to live and die in the home to which I had gone as a bride. This and a deal more stuff pleased him so much, that he went to great expense in buying and fit- ting up a perfectly new building in one of the best situations in town. We took possession on our return from the wedding-tour. My toy was very entertaining for a week or two. Everything was so new and pretty; the serv- ants were upon their good behavior; Mr. Merry ditto; and I anxious to give satisfaction. But, somehow, things began to get a little awry. I could not worry myself to death with the serv- ants. They had their orders. Was I to waste time and patience in following them about, to see that they did their work? If it was not done, I should find it out soon enough ; and, if they obeyed, there was no use in watching them. Then Arthur got cross. Instead of, as at first, praising my management upon all occa- sions, he said nothing about it when others were by, and gave me what he called a ‘few gentle hints’ when we were alone. ‘Gentle,’ indeed ! *Twas downright scolding. ‘Matters would go more smoothly if I gave them my personal superintendence.’ It was my ‘duty to be at home at such and such hours’ (that is, when he was there); ‘the servants were wasteful and slovenly, and I too negligent of their misde- meanors.’ For a while, I did not saspect what he was at. I had no idea that he wanted me buried alive, though I knew that some men would gladly be widowers even on these terms. He always wound up by being wonderfully good and affectionate, ‘to allay,’ he said, ‘ any feel- ing of vexation at being what I might consider reproved,’ and I could not get angry. But just let me tell you of a little scene that took place when we had been married about six months. You must know that my most intimate friend, Ginnie Hubbard, lived just opposite to us. We had been schoolmates, and changed our names upon the same day ; so it was natural and pro- per that we should be together a great deal. Now, Ginnie had more spirit in the tip of her little finger than I have in my whole body, and, as Mr. Hubbard was easy-tempered, they got along swimmingly. Arthur said she was a capital housewife; but I don’t believe she knew any more about cookery than I did. Only that’s the way with men; they will praise any man’s wife, if, by so doing, they can get a chance to disparage their own. Well, as I was saying, 1 loved Ginnie very dearly, and one cloudy after- noon, when I did not dare to walk far from home, I ran over to sit an hour with her. Mr, Hubbard was out of town, and she very lone-

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THE SYMPATHY MEETING. 128 some, and overjoyed to see me. We talked and sewed until dark, when I said I must really go home. , *** Oh, no,’ said Ginnie; ‘ these winter after- noons are so short. It is only six o’clock. Only think, Rosa Grant is to be married !” “Rosa was another school-fellow; and this led us to a long confab about old times and old friends, until I was astonished to see tea brought in. “¢ You must stay! said Ginnie. ‘ You can go after our supper is done, and be in time to give Mr. Merry his.’ ‘ “This was true, for Arthur often stayed out until eight or nine. I make no pretensions to sense (I believe Arthur thinks I have none) ; but I knew that it was not polite to run off the instant I left the table; and Ginnie commenced telling me a rigmarole about a man who had shot himself, or his wife, I forget which. After I thought a decent time had elapsed, I peeped at my watch, and you won’t believe me when I tell you that it was afterten. Ginnie held a light in her porch until she saw me safe in mine, then she called out ‘Good-night !’ and went in. I opened the front door. The entry was dark. That stupid Bob had not lighted the lamp; he always wants to be told to do it. I looked into the front parlor, it was like midnight; and, nearly breaking my neck by falling over achair, I groped my way to the door of the other room. One solitary, forlorn candle was on the mantle- piece, the fender was covered with ashes and cinders, and there was not a living coal in the grate. Arthur was marching back and forth across the floor. Men always do that when they are out of humor. He stopped, and looked at me. ** § Good-evening,’ said I. **So you have come!’ said he. *T put out my hand towards the bell-rope. ** Stay! said he. ‘What do you want?’ ** Some coal,’ I replied, bridling up. **You may spare yourself the trouble of ringing. There is none in the house, and it will be stormy in the morning. Why was I not apprised of this in time to send some up ?’ ** How was I to know anything about it?’ *¢ Robert says he told you of it last night,’ he answered, sternly. *T could not deny this, although I had not thought of it since. He resumed his prome- nade, and gave me time for reflection. What was the cause of all this fuss? I had spent an evening with a friend. If he had seen fit to stay out until twelve; instead of ten o’clock, it would be no concern of mine, he would say; but I was to be treated like a child that deserved awhipping. My spirit was fairly up; so I said— *¢ What has happened to put you in such an amiable mood ?” “He did not reply immediately; but, after two or three more strides across the room, he stalked up to me. ** You are pleased to sneer, and I shall not attempt to move your sympathies in behalf of one who, after battling all day in the world, fondly expected something like comfort at home.’ “That was the text, and you never heard such a ‘scorcher’ as followed. I say ‘never heard ;’ but you will, if you go to housekeeping, and forget, while talking with one you love, that you have the pantry keys in your pocket, and a famishing, fuming husband at home. I asked why he did not send for me? *** And have it reported all over the country that my wife cannot leave the house for an hour without being summoned to wait upon me! No; if your sense of duty does not induce you to attend to your household, my commands shall not.’ “Then he went out, banging the door after him; and I sat down upon the rug to havea comfortable cry all to myself. I had not shed more than a dozen tears before he came in again. **¢ Annie, you must not sit here in the cold. Go up stairs “ And I had to obey. I have learned since not to regard these little contretemps. If Mr. Merry begins to rail, I leave him with the walls for listeners. All husbands are tyrants, and mine is no worse than most people’s.” It was impossible to listen gravely as she rat- tled off this story with the mimicry and gesture of a spoiled child. So winning did she appear, as she looked up from her low seat in the cor- ner, that it must have been a callous heart which could not find, in her youth and beauty, excuse for the thoughtlessness that in her seemed scarcely to deserve the name of fault. * Hush, child !”? said a middle-aged lady, with an affectation of reproof. ‘“‘ Be thankful that your husband loves his home. You would find it much worse if he sought his enjoyment else where. Now, there’s Mr. Sherman; he has a: engagement for every evening in the week. I believe he is a member of all the societies that ever were set on foot.” “He is very active in all projects for doin, good, I know,” responded Mrs. Parks. “So people say; but, for my part, I think it is the duty of married men to stay at home and take care of their families. I am jealous of

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124 these new-fangled enterprises. I cannot forgive them for usurping my place. No poor wife can call therm ‘benevolent organizations.’ I never inquire where he is going, if he asks to have an early supper. He drinks his tea scalding hot, seizes his hat, and is off. I put the children to bed, and then sit alone all the long evening, shaking with fright if the wind rattles the win- dows. I dare not sleep, and am too nervous to read or sew. Every burglar in the city knows that I am a lone, unprotected woman ; and this keeps me in nightly dread of housebreakers. Besides this, I am wretched lest some ruffian should attack him in the unfrequented lanes, through which he passes at all hours of the night.” “Oh, horrible!” cried Mrs. Cushman, who was of a very timorous disposition. ‘ Why do you not entreat him to stay with you?” * Ah, my dear, those times are over now. If T had been married only as many weeks as I have years, I might hope to be heard; but one gets used to refusals in ten years.” “I never should get used to them!” thought Lizzie; and the crochet-needle grew to twice its usual size, as if seen through a magnifying lens. * You have one consolation, Mrs. Sherman,” said Mrs. Lane; “‘you have everything your own way indoors. Mr. Sherman does not pre- tend to interfere with or condemn your arrange- ments, As for my husband, he begins to quar- rel so soon as he gets within sight of the house. *Is anybody dead, that the blinds are all shut? The house feels like a vault. Itis enough to give a man the blues to come into such a dungeon!’ Or, if they are open, ‘How long since you opened a tavern? It is no fault of yours, if your neighbors’ curiosity is not gratified.’ I slave all the morning in the hope of eating one dinner in peace; but no! If I were to put the only rickety chair on the premises in the attic, under lock and key, the plaguy thing would contrive to be the first on which he sat. The child who has been latest at the sweetmeats, or who has the most ragged apron, is invariably firstto meet him. Either of these circumstances upsets him completely; and, once wrong, hea- ven and earth cannot set him right. He looks over the dinner-table in search of something out of order, before he will taste a mouthful. *Tom, where are the salt-spoons?’ And, before the boy can bring them, up he jumps, and snatching them from him, throws them the whole length of the table. ‘ Zounds, madam, I should think that I have enough to do out of §oors without housekeeping!’ If he is particu- GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. larly crabbed, he will not be waited upon, but shoves his chair back and helps himself, espe- cially if what he wants is at the other end of the room. I have been dreadfully mortified, when we have had company, by his going out to the hydrant for a pitcher of water, while we were in the midst of dinner, the servants standing by doing nothing. Then the soup is ‘ dish-water ;’ the fish ‘as raw as when it was taken out of the river;’ the turkey ‘ might as well be stuffed with cotton.’ Sunday is worst of all! He has no- thing to do between sermons but growl. The Sabbath evening lecture is upon the evils of my housewifery, ending with, ‘There is not an Irish laborer in the United States who lives in such a pig-sty as I do!” Lizzie’s eyes had dilated more and more as each relation progressed, and now her mouth shared in their expansion. If Mesdames Merry and Sherman had astounded, Mrs. Lane’s ha- rangue shocked her. Its very homeliness lent it force. It sounded like unvarnished truth. She had never conceived of such brutality. Already her well-appointed cottage was reft of half its charms. There were more things in housekeep- ing than had been dreamed of in her philosophy. This appeared to be a regular “ experience meeting.” Mrs. Harris next took the floor. “These are but minor troubles, after all; annoying, but resulting in no serious conse- quences.” ‘J don’t know what you call ‘ serious conse- quences,’ ” retorted Mrs. Lane, “ if having one’s life fretted out of her by inches be not one.” “ That is disagreeable, I grant; but what is it compared with the pain a mother experiences when seeing her children in the road to ruin without power to arrest them? I have no more control over mine than you have; indeed, not so much, for they might stand in awe of a stranger. Mr. Harris neither corrects them nor allows me to do so. It ‘ breaks their spirit,’ he says. My life is a scene of perpetual discord and disturbance. Archibald, my oldest boy, respects my lowest menial more than he does his mother. When only five years old, he would return my caresses with blows. I endea- vored to chastise him but once, and he nearly destroyed the sight of my right eye, besides reducing to shreds a superb lace dress cap. His father upholds him in his unnatural rebellion.” “Take care,” interposed Mrs. Parks, who had been visibly uneasy for some time; “‘ Mrs. Cushman will not thank us for teaching her to borrow trouble. We must not abuse husbands too much.” “‘ Where ’s the harm in telling her the truth 3”

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THE SYMPATHY MEETING. 125 asked Mrs. Merry, opening her great blue eyes in comic inquiry. ‘I don’t want her to be dis- appointed, as she will be, if she goes on think- ing that married life is the height of happiness. It is well the novels stop when the characters are all paired off. They would spoil the story by repeating the quarrels that follow.” **You are a silly girl, Annie. Who, do you think, believes you?” ** Why, Mrs. Cushman here (let me call you Lizzie) will remember all that I have told her some of these days. I shall make you a visit of condolence. We shall be sisters in afflic- tion.” “T hope never to have occasion to make you such a call, Mrs. Cushman,” said Mrs. Oram, kindly; “but I owe you an apology for having delayed until now a visit which it was my wish as well as my duty to pay. Mr. Oram and my- self are under many obligations to Mr. Cush- man’s generous friendship. This, of itself, would create a desire to cultivate your ac- quaintance. My babe has been sick ever since your arrival amongst us, and I could not have left her this afternoon, but for the offer of my sister to take the place of nurse for a few hours. It is now time for my return. We shall meet soon, I hope.”’ Lizzie responded heartily. Her interest in her new friend was redoubled, now that she knew her to be her husband’s also. If Mrs. Parks really wished to turn the conversation, her first observation after Mrs. Oram’s departure was unfortunate. “Has Mr. Prescott recovered entirely from his attack of pneumonia?” she asked of one of her visitors. “Thank you, he is apparently well; still I am not easy about him. Gentlemen are so im- prudent. They consider proper precantions against cold or damp as womanly weakness. I have tried again and again to induce James to wear a fur-lined over-coat since his iliness, but he only ‘ pshaws !’ and asks if I take him to be a sickly woman. I wish that he was. I could manage him then. He has a great horror of appearing to be ruled by me. The doctor ad- vised him to tie a worsted comforter over his mouth when in the open air. He put it on one morning, but had not gone two squares before he met John Burton, who wanted to know if ‘his wife thought he had lived long enough, that she had muffled up his respiratory organs in that style, or was it a gag to prevent his talk- ing to the girls?’ He has never touched the comforter since, giving, as his reason for discard- ing it, that it is hot and inconvenient; but I 11° know very well that it is nothing in the world but John’s ridicule.” The duskiness of the room had puta stop to manual employment, and Lizzie thought with dismay of the impetus tongues would receive from this cessation. She anticipated nothing less than a declaration of an exterminating war against the other sex, should the indignation of these maltreated slaves continue to ferment. She was relieved, and the seditious symptoms quelled by the appearance of Mr. Parks, accom- panied by Mr. Lane, who, to her surprise, bore little resemblance to the truculent boor she had imagined; nor did his wife’s deportment to- wards him partake of servility or marked defer- ence. The entrance of these two checked further divulgations, and introduced a new set of topics; but Lizzie’s pleasure was marred for that evening. In vain she expostulated with herself. ‘It was foolish to allow this idle gos- sip to discompose her. What if it were all true? George was so different from the men they had been describing; and she would try so hard to gratify his every whim, that they could never be participants in such disgraceful alter- cations.”” But reasoning and resolving did no good. She was low-spirited and miserable ; and, worst of all, George, who came soon after Mr. Parks, saw at a glance that all wes not right. Her smiling effort could not hoodwink him. He prudently, forbore to take any notice’ of her dejection ; and, by the time that his spicy sallies had set everybody to joking and laughing, she was able to appear quite like herself again. *T saw Arthur this afternoon,” said he to Mrs. Merry. “ He will be along presently.” “ Yes, I expect him,” she rejoined. ‘You know Mr. Merry, then?” said Lizzie, in a low voice. “Knowhim! What aquestion! Mrs. Merry, here a moment, if you please. You have to answer to the grave charge of having passed a whole afternoon with my wife, and not hinted once that Arthur and I were old chums and inseparables, until he took an unaccountable fancy to like a certain lady (who shall be name- less) more than he did me. Is this your grati- tude for my advocacy of his suit, when an unreasonable old gentleman demurred at grant- ing it, because, forsooth, his daughter was toa young to enter into a contract so important?” Lizzie did not hear, Mrs. Merry’s revort. George and this tyrannical taskmaster had been boon companions. This argued a coincidence of tastes and sentiments. What if all men should, indeed, be alike? Would he, too, learn in time to rave, grumble, and negleot ? .

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126 GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. “ Lizzie,” said George, leading up a noble- looking man, who had just entered, “‘ this is my friend Merry. You should have met before.” “IT have been unfortunate, but not to blame, that we have not,” replied Mr. Merry. And, having paid his respects gracefully to her, his next bow and smile were for “‘ Annie.” “How different men are in society and at home !”’ reflected Mrs. Cushman, as she re- marked this ; and this feeling was uppermost in her mind until the company broke up. “ Mr. Sherman was at a returned meeting of the Colonial Society,” his wife stated ; and Mr. Cushman, with difficulty, screwed his face into grave respectfulness as he volunteered himself as her escort, her residence being in the same street as their boarding-house. They had the talk all to themselves on the way home, Lizzie speaking only in monosyllables. The poison was not without its effect. She could not help thinking that, if George were suffering, as he must see that she was, she could not appear un- concerned. It was her first hard thought of him, and it almost broke her heart to admit it. She had no sullenness in her nature; but she was hart and disappointed. * You are not well to-night, Lizzie?” She stood by the fire, knotting her bonnet- strings around her taper finger. ‘ * Yes, I am quite well.” “You are unhappy, then. It is useless to try to deceive me. I have Watched you all the evening. Already a grief which you will not let me share, Lizzie ?” This was the drop too much. She'sunk her head upon his shoulder and burst into tears; nor was it until his anxiety had increased to an insupportable degree that she could command her voice to tell him of the boding fears that oppressed her heart, and their origin. He did not interrupt the relation, although his lips parted more than once; but it is doubtful whether the nearly uttered ejaculation might not have startled more than edified the narrator. When she ceased, he looked relieved, vexed, and amused. “So your afternoon has been spent in dis- eussing husbands,” he said. “A sorry enter- tainment! I do not wonder at your being out of spirits. From your account, I should judge that we were pretty well ‘ showed up.’ a standing dish at these feminine assemblies ?” Lizzie could not refrain from smiling. *T don’t know. I never was at any but young-lady parties before.” * And then you talked of your beaux. Well, this is only a continuation of the same subject— Is this’ lovers are developed into married men. You have learned much to-day, dear Lizzie, of which I had rather you had remained ignorant. I hardly know whether you will now believe me, if I say that, as it is, I prefer your lessons in these matters should be taken from any one else than from me—that all your knowledge of the discomforts of housekeeping and sour-tempered husbands should be acquired from hearsay, not experience.” Lizzie’s arms were around his neck in an instant. ‘“‘ Dear George!” was all that she could say. He went on, kindly and seriously— But this cannot be. I know that, in the revulsion of feeling, you are ready to look upon the histories of the tribulations of Mrs. Merry and. her compeers as sheer fabrications, or ex- aggerations of trivial misunderstandings. The latter supposition may be correct, to a certain extent; and I shail presently enlighten you somewhat with regard to these benevolent ladies who have taken pity on your ignorance; still, I must admit that there is probably much sober truth in what they have said. Women are not angels; and men are more than one remove from perfection. Where there are faults, there must be suffering; but this may be greatly alleviated by mutual confidence, and a just appreciation, on each side, of the peculiar trials of the other. If, hereafter, you shall feel the want of perfect sympathy with your dispirited or nervous mood after toiling through the harassing routine of woman’s every-day duties—laborious, if well performed; mortifying, in case of failure—if, seated in my comfortable chair in the corner, I forget, even while reaping the fruits of your industry, whose hands have adorned my Eden, you must not grieve your affectionate little heart with misgivings of my love. The thanks for which you had hoped, as the easily bestowed reward of your self-denial ; the look that should have blessed your thoughtful kindness, may be for a time withheld; and instead, a coldly spoken word, which sounds very like a taunt, or a tart notice of some omission or blunder, may pierce you with a bitter sense of injustice. These are darkened moments, such as fall to the lot of the happiest wife. I say it to our shame; but do not judge us too harshly. You know nothing of the world in which we strive; I pray that you never may. I have heard of plants, natives of the tropics, which, on being transplanted in a colder climate, grow strong and hardy, but bear no more flowers or fruits; and a woman, fighting her way in a business life, reminds me of these. Her mind may be more vigorous than that of one raised in the atmosphere of home,

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THE SYMPATHY MEETING. 127 and visited only by the breath of affection, but the sweet blossoms of trust and love will never be again unfolded. It is a hard world, Lizzie— a hateful, suspicious world, full of heartlessness and deceit—a world that fosters men’s ignoble passions, and beats down, with a hailstorm of ridicule, their holiest sentiments. You need not cling to me so tightly,'love; while I have an arm to shield you, you shall never encounter these hardships. I am aman, and my duty is in the field. I only ask that, when I am worn out and heart-sick with defeat and discouragement, you will think of all this, and pity instead of chide.” Again “ Dear, dear George!” And then a silence. George broke it with a laugh. “And you were surprised at my keeping company with an ogre like Merry, and already beheld yourself crying with Annie upon the rug before a fireless hearth? Arthur deserves sym- pathy more than censure. His baseless fabric of perfect harmony and contentment came tum- bling about his ears before he was a Benedict. of two months’ standing. Annie is » dear, warm- hearted creature, but incorrigibly thoughtless and frivolous. I shall never forget their first dinner-party. Arthur invited the members of our “bachelor club’”—six in number—hinting, as he did so, at the superiority of ‘ voluntary’ over ‘hired’ housekeepers. Two of us kept bachelor’s hall, and the others picked up a living at boarding-houses and hotels. Being quite alive to the manifold disadvantages of these modes of subsistence, we considered this home- thrust cruel and ungenerous; and held a council of resentment for some time before we decided to pocket the insult and go. About an hour before dinner time, I left my office to prepare for the convivial occasion. I met Mrs. Merry ten steps from my door. She looked bewitch- ingly lovely; and there were two or three girls with her, all in the highest spirits, and appa- rently bound upon some frolic. “ «Oh, Mr. Cushman!’ she called, ‘have you been to the menagerie ?” **T answered in the negative. “ «Then do—there’s a good creature! go with us to the door. I don’t mind being beauless afler we get in, but I can’t pass through the erowd around the ticket-box. We must hurry, too, for I have only half an hour tospare. You know you dine with us to-day; and Arthur will be angry if I am not dressed in time. Ain’t husbands particular ?” **Thus she prattled until we ascended Coun- eil Chamber Hill, on which the show was located. I procured tickets for the party; saw them seated above the arena of sawdust, and human mingled with brute animals. *** Now,’ said Mrs. Merry, ‘go dress for din- ner,’ ** As you may suppose, I did not fatigue my- self by the hurry of my preparations. I dressed, and read all the daily newspapers ere I started. RADARS enn eeeeeeeeeee The guests were gathered together, but I was not surprised that the hostess was minus. Arthur controlled himself wonderfully well; but his eye wandered to the window every other minute, and more than once he broke off a sen- tence, as a step approached the parlor-door. It was only a servant, who peered in with eyes that told of overdone beef and fowls burnt toa cinder, as plainly as his lips growled, on his retreat: ‘I wish mistis would come along.’ “Two hours after the appointed time, a fleet footstep was heard upon the stairs; and Arthur begged to be ‘excused for an instant.’ His face was no brighter when he rejoined us; and before long we sat down to what would have been an elegant repast, had it been served in time. Annie ran in, like a playful kitten, as we reached the dining-room, with—‘I told you so, Arthur! I said I would be ready as soon as you were ” ‘*He interrupted her by presenting a gentle- man, with whom she was not acquainted. **¢T am afraid you think me shockingly un punctual,’ she ran on, pouring out the words and soup at the same time, ‘but that darling little pony made me forget everything else—and then a real live tiger leaped out uponaman! | screamed, but they said it was a part of the show—and then the monkeys! I never laughed so in all my life—and oh, Arthur! I rode upon the elephant!’ “The perspiration thickened upon Merry’s forchead with each fresh course of dishes. * ¢ You don’t know how mad he is,’ whispered Annie to me. ‘I tell you he scolded! But Il don’t care. I had a splendid time at the mena- gerie.” ** But once did Arthur look glad or at his ease —when we took our hats to leave. We walked down the street, talking of anything rather than our dinner, when Tom Hinton, whose fun- making propensities are incurable, burst forth with—‘ Well, boys, it’s my impression that, if Mrs. Merry does go elsewhere to ‘see the ele- phant,’ poor Arthur need not stir from home to indulge his curiosity in that respect.’ ” ** How could she be so careless of his feelings, and for such childish nonsense! How absurd!” exclaimed Lizzie. “Of Mrs. Lane’s ménage, I know nothing,”

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128 GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. continued George. “Her philippic against her stronger half may be just. My intercourse with him has been chiefly confined to business mat- ters, but I do not think him ill-natured. Mrs. Sherman’s piteous lamentations, however, bor- der upon the ludicrous, when one remembers that she was a respectable maiden lady, already past the bloom of life, when Sherman found her living on a snug farm in the country, with no male protector, and no companion except an orphan niece, ten years of age. She looked after her broad acres with a vigilant eye; and the savings of years of thriftness supplied, in her lover’s eyes, her want of personal attrac- tions. I am not surprised at her pretended pretty fears. We are apt to assume the appear- ance of qualities in which we know ourselves to be deficient. This will account also for Prescott’s sensitiveness on the score of being ruled. The man is hen-pecked to such a degree that his very dress shows it. His collar hangs over his stock with a limp helplessness only equalled by the meek droop of his eyelids, and the corners of his mouth, and his hat! I could single it out among a thousand as that of a man who dared not entertain a sneaking notion that his soul was his own. But my gossip is degene- rating into scandal. Have I disposed of all your difficulties ?” “Yes. How silly to have let them annoy me! But they all joined, either by word or look, in the condemnation of men in general, and husbands in particular; all except Mrs. Parks and Mrs. Oram.” “Mrs. Oram!” he repeated, with a start. * You did not tell me that she was there.” ‘She had to go home to a sick child before nightfall; but what of her? Is she not a fit associate for me?” ** A fit associate! Ah, Lizzie, she is one of a thousand; deserving of a far happier fate than the one which awaits her.” “Ts her husband unkind?” * No—that is, not habitually. I do not fear to intrust to your discretion a secret known toa very small number of his friends. He is a man of shining qualities and powerful, but perverted energies. He failed in business about two years ago; and being in want of a confidential clerk, I offered the situation to him until he should procure more lucrative employment. His able ascharge of duty and engaging demeanor so won upon my esteem and affection that, at the end of twelve months, I made proposals of co-part- nership. He listened with downcast eyes and a face in which gratitude struggled with shame, expressions which perplexed and mortified me.” “¢Mr. Cushman,’ said he, as I finished, ‘I am more than grateful for this new manifesta- tion of confidence, unmerited though it is. It is an act worthy of yourself, my best, my only friend. You took me by the hand when all others turned away from the outcast, and restored me to apparent respectability—apparent!’ he repeated, with a stinging emphasis of self- reproach. “IT was bewildered. He had never been an outcast. His character stood as high when he entered my office as it now did. But his distress was real, whatever was its imaginary cause; and I tried by argument and assurances to dis- pel the unhappy hallucination. I alluded to his talents; his integrity, as displayed in every act of his past life; to his faithfulness in my service; and added that my offer was prompted by a desire to evince my recognition and appre- ciation of these things. “«QOh, cease, for pity’s sake!’ he exclaimed. ‘You drive me mad! I faithful! J upright! Look here!’ and he pulled rather than led me to his desk. ‘There!’ tossing out a bundle of papers. ‘Examine those.’ “T opened the package. It contained copies of deeds, etc., executed in the neatest manner. ‘I see nothing wrong in them,’ I said, after inspection. I seem to feel now the look he fastened upon me. «You gave me the originals to copy?” ¢ Certainly.’ *¢ And what, sir, do you say of the wretch who permitted his tenderly-nurtured wife to bend for entire nights over them, doing his work while he lay snoring in drunken unconscious- ness ?” “¢ Alfred! I ejaculated, ready to believe his senses wandering. ‘ You were never guilty of such a deed!’ “ He laughed like a maniac. “*T tell you I have done it again and again! I learned to drink long ago, and she concealed it.’ When I came here, she knelt to me—knelt to a fiend and a brute! and prayed me to abandon the accursed practice. Then, as she found me going down, down, night after night (for I only indulged at night and in secret), she said not a word, only asked me to bring my writing home in the evening instead of remaining down town. One morning I awoke late, to the horrors of a day succeeding a night of debauchery; and super- added was the recollection of unperformed duty. It was necessary that my task should be accom- plished. I have never yet stained my soul with a lie; and ignominious expulsion was before me. With shaking hands I untied the papers and

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PICTURES OF BIRDS WITH THEIR NATURAL FEATHERS. 129 looked mechanically over them. They were ready-written in a bold hand, a surprisingly accurate imitation of my own; but there were, now and then, delicate strokes that betrayed the woman. She had done it all. I might die a thousand deaths without experiencing the agony of that moment. It is a common occurrence now.’ “The poor fellow’s face worked frightfully with emotion. ‘This is my integrity,’ he said, hoarsely—‘ my fidelity! Why do you look at me so sorrowfully? Spurn me from your door. I am not fit to dwell with honest men. I make but one request. Do not let my ill-used Mary know that the shame which is killing her is public.’ ” “Oh, George!” pleaded Lizzie, lifting her tear-laden eyes to his. ‘“ You did not let him go i ‘No, dearest. I told him that I would not withdraw my trust. Had my friendship been less strong, regard for his noble wife would have led me to befriend him by every means in my power. The partnership scheme was abandoned, but he retains his clerkship; and although my opened eyes can trace the rayages-of dissipation, his books are still kept with strict exactness. But this cannot last forever; sooner or later he will sink to the level of a common drunkard.” ‘And she has this weight always upon her mind!’ mused Lizzie. ‘This has given her face its sorrowful cast. I cannot sufficiently admire her prudent silence.” George shook his head doubtfully. ** Do you commend her prudence only? I do not wish to excite in you uncharitable feelings towards your acquaintances of your own sex, but it is enigmatical to me how a woman, who has one atom of love or respect for her husband, can make his faults or foibles the subject of con- versation, even in a coterie of her picked friends, It has, to me, the semblance of a violation of her marriage vow. She is bound to ‘honor’ as well as ‘love.’ His failings should be sacred— locked up in her bosom; not held up to ridicule and censure.” “Just what I felt all the time they were speaking!” interrupted Lizzie, eagerly. “I cannot think that I could even discuss your peculiarities and offences with my dearest friend. How can I, when my husband is my nearest— my sole confidant ?”’ “There spoke the right mind and the true woman’s heart!” replied he, with an affection- ate kiss. ‘‘ Confidantes are dangerous indul- gences to both husband and wife. A man who breathes a syllable of disapprobation of his part- ner to other ears than hers, is a fit candidate for the pillory; and from female cabals the Fates preserve me! I had rather stand with him in the same honorable position than be flayed and dissected in a ‘ Ladies’ Sympathy Meeting.’ ” TO MAKE PICTURES OF BIRDS WITH THEIR NATURAL FEATHERS. First take a thin board or panel of deal or wainscot, well seasoned, that it may not shrink; then smoothly paste on it white paper, and let it dry; and if the wood casts its color through, paste on it another paper till perfectly white ; let it stand till quite dry, and then get any bird you would represent, and draw its figure as ex- actly as possible on the papered panel (middle- sized birds are the best for the purpose); then paint what tree or ground-work you intend to set your bird upon, also its bill and legs, leaving the rest of the body to be covered with its own feathers. You must next prepare that part to be feathered by laying on thick gum Arabic, dis- solved in water; lay it on with a large hair pencil, and let it dry; then lay a second coat of the gum Arabic, and let it dry, and a third, and oftener, if you find that when dry it does not form a good body on the paper, at least to the thickness of a shilling; let it dry quite hard. } When your piece is thus prepared, take the feathers off the bird as you use them, beginning at the tail and points of the wings, and working upwards to the head, observing to cover that part of your draught with the feathers taken from the same part of the bird, letting them fall over one another in the natural order. You must prepare your feathers by cutting off the downy parts that are about their stems, and the large feathers must have the insides of their shafts shaved off with a sharp knive, to make them lie flat; the quills of the wings must have their inner webs clipped off, so that in laying them the gum may hold them by their shafts. When you begin to lay them, take a pair of steel pliers to hold the feathers in, and have some gum-water, not too thin, and a large pencil ready to moisten the ground-work by little and little, as you work it; then lay your feathers on { the moistened parts, which must not be water-

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130 GODEY’s LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. _~— ee ish, but only clammy, to hold the feathers. You must have prepared a great many sugarloaf- shaped leaden weights, which you may form by casting the lead into sand, in which shapes or moulds for it have been made by means of a pointed stick prodded all over the surface, hav- ing small holes to receive the melted lead. These wéights will be necessary to set on the feathers when you have merely laid them on, in order to press them into the gum till they are fixed; but you must be cautious lest the gum comes through the feathers, for it would not only smear them, but would stick to the bottoms of the little weights; and in taking them off you would bring the feathers also, which would quite dis- arrange your work; be cautious, therefore, not to have your coat of gum too moist or wet. When you have wholly covered your bird with its feathers, you must, with a little thick gum, stick on a piece of paper, cut round, of the size of an eye, which you must color the same as the eye of the bird, if you cannot procure a glass one of the kind; and when the whole is dry, you must dress the feathers all round the out- liné (such as may have chanced to start), and rectify all defects in every other part; then lay on it a sheet of clean paper, and a heavy weight, such as a book, to press it; after which it may be preserved in a glass frame, such as are used for pieces of shell-work, &c. ANOTHER LETTER FROM THE WESTERN WILDS. MARINETTE, Oconto Co., Wis. L. A. Gopry :— Dear Sir: Permit a silent, but by no means an uninterested spectator, to trespass for a few moments on your very valuable time. I should have said hitherto silent, but the “answers to correspondents” have excited my “ risibles’”’ so long, that I must add my voice. First, though, let me ask, do you know where Marinette is? You reply, of course, “No!” How can you? She is yet far too young to grace a map. It isa little lumbering establish- ment at the mouth of the Menomonee River, on Green Bay, the boundary line between Wiscon- sin and the northern peninsula of Michigan. There, now you know. (You left school long before I did.) And don’t you think, Mr. Godey, we came to this place, this wilderness, from one of the most beautiful of all the beautiful little villages on that most beautiful of rivers, our dear sid Susquehanna. How could any one be 4 so cruel? What will not men do for money? Father is a poor man, and his family is large; to be sure, it was hard getting along; but, oh! I would rather be very poor, and live where I could see the bright streams and green hills of old Pennsylvania. I have three sisters, young ladies grown, well educated, refined, ladylike, and one is talented, though not for the world would she offer her productions to the public; ’tis only for the home circle she writes, and poor Sue would get a scolding if this letter should fall into he hands. I have also three brothers, but they are mere children, younger even than I. And we have not seen a Aill in nearly eighteen months— we, who were reared among them! Is it not too bad? But I am wandering far, very far, from my main object; in fact, had altogether forgot- ten it. One of the pleasures that we enjoy here (I ought not to be so homesick, for indeed we are better off than many who have enjoyed greater privileges to be deprived of) is that we have the “ Book” every month. How could we do without it? Then we have other magazines and papers from the cities, two or three old country papers from Pennsylvahia and New York, our Wisconsin papers, and the religious papers and magazines that mother takes. Quite a number, is it not? But as my father does not use tobacco nor spirits, he can afford to “ pay the printer.” We have good reading for our winter evenings. Father is an EXCELLENT reader. ** Lydia’s Wages” is the best story of the sea- son. But I find a great deal of amusement in reading your “ answers to correspondents.” This month in particular I notice one young lady (“excessively young,” I should judge) has asked you if they have any machine for embroidery. Tell her, if she will “‘ wash my dishes,” I *ll do her embroidery better than any other machine. I love embroidery, but dishes must be washed, and “Sur” has it to do, and that is my “ bug- bear!” ‘ Now,” said I to mother, “ may-be Mr. Godey can help me; at all events, I °ll write and ask him if there is a machine to wash dishes, and if I do not get any other, it will be some satisfaction to see ‘ Susan’ in the list.” Now, Mr. Godey, pardon this intrusion, please. Upon my word, ’tis the first time I ever tres- passed en the time of any editor—more valuable, if possible, than aclergyman’s. You can readily perceive that this is a new business to me, as I have omitted an important item—that is, the date. Yours, with the best wishes of Oct. 9, 1854. Susan A. L.

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A SERIES OF PAPERS ON THE HAIR CHAPTER II. DISEASES OF THE HAIR, AND DIRECTIONS FOR ITS MANAGEMENT. I come now to speak of a few of the principal disorders of the hair, and to point out the pre- disposing causes of baldness and premature gray hair, &c. Bodily infirmity, disease, and mental irritability, as well as sudden change of climate, have an injurious effect on the healthy condi- tion of the hair, and the supply and flow of the coloring principle. There are many morbid states and conditions of the hair, all of which it would be impossible to allude to here, and many of them, from their virulence and connection with diseases of the skin, come more especially under the province of the medical practitioner. Those who study the health and preservation of their hair, should avoid all excesses or extra- ordinary excitement; they should equally shun mental and bodily over-stimulation, and endea- vor to preserve an equable temperament of mind and body. Frequent profuse perspiration is ex- tremely injurious to the hair. Hairs, says Dr. A. H. Hassall, are peculiarly susceptible of being affected by the condition of the health, even more so than the epidermis. If this be vigorous, as a rule to which there are many exceptions, it will be found that the hairs themselves are thickly and firmly set in the skin: if, on the contrary, the powers of the system be debilitated from any cause, the hair will either fall off spontaneously, or a very slight degree of force will serve to dislodge them from their eonnections. If the basis of those hairs which fall out of themselves be examined, or which are removed by combing and brushing, it will be seen that the bulb alone has come away, the entire sheath remaining behind. In such cases, the hair is doubtless regenerated, and after its regeneration is usually stronger than it was previousiy. It has not yet been ascertained by positive experiment whether the hair is capable of reformation in those instances in which both bulb and sheath have been removed; it is most probable, however, that where they have been entirely abstracted, no renewal of the hair could ensue. ** When,” says Mr. Wilson, “hairs are left to their natural growth, they attain a certain length, and are then thrown off by a process analogous to the change of the coat in animals, or the moult of birds, their place being supplied by young hairs, which grow from the same tubes ; and this temporary decadence of the hair occurs also when it is kept cut of moderate length. When, on the other hand, hair is closely shaved, it appears to become persistent, and at the same time increases in strength and bulk.” Curling the hair in strong and hard paper has a.very injurious effect; and twisting, plaiting, and tying it tightly in knots at the back of the head, prevents the circulation of the fluid, strains the scalp, and necessarily injures the roots, besides contributing to induce headache and cause irritation of the brain. The more loosely the hair can be folded or twisted, and the less it is artificially crisped, the better is it for its free and luxuriant growth. Ladies who curl the hair, should use for the purpose soft paper or silk, which will prevent the hair cracking and other injuries that might result from hard papillottes. Those who simply wear the hair in bands or braids ought to twist or fold it very loosely at night, when retiring to rest. It should then always be liberated from forced constraints and plaits. It must be well combed and thoroughly brushed every morning, and afterwards nicely smoothed with the palm of the hand, which gives it a high gloss, after oil has been applied. In order to add to its length and strength, the ends should be tipped at least once a month, to prevent the hair split- ting. In a hygienic point of view, the dress of the hair best adapted for females, and especially for young girls, is that which keeps the hair slightly raised, drawn as little as possible, carefully smoothed, and arranged in large bands so as to admit the air to penetrate ; to unfold it morning and evening, and brush it lightly, but carefully ; in a word, to dress it in such a manner as will not require dragging or twisting, but leave it free. If fashion requires it to be tied and drawn, and the individual yields to the mode, it should be unfolded morning and evening, and allowed to hang loose for several minutes. Many mothers are in the habit of having the hair of their daugh‘ers cut close when young, 131

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182 on the supposition that this will tend to prevent baldness and improve the hair, by causing it to grow longer, thicker, and more abundant. This is a mistaken notion, and is rather calculated to injure its beauty and retard its maximum growth. It is quite sufficient to have the ends clipped, or shortened, occasionally, as the original hair is always the finest and most beautiful. It is asserted that mental emotions and violent passions have, in a single night, made the hair gray. This is said to be owing to the increased determination of blood stimulating the absorb- ents into preternatural activity, and causing them to take up the coloring matter of the hair. Disappointment, bereavement, deep grief, in- tense care and anxiety, produce devastating effects upon the hair. The fact that alarm or fright causes the hair to stand on end, is too well established and teo common to admit a doubt. The cause may be, that sudden fear drives the blood to the heart as the seat of vitality, and the extremities being left cold, the skin thus contracts, and the effect is to raise the hair. The decay, or fall of the hair, in a gradual and diffused manner, commonly commences first on the crown, or on the forehead and temples. It may take place prematurely, and as a conse- quence of disorder of the digestive organs, or of the constitution, or of a loeal affection of the sealp, extending to the pilous follicles. It is often an indication of premature exhaustion of organic nervousenergy. Premature loss of hair is not confined to the scalp, but often extends to the eyebrows, beard, and other parts of the bedy. The remote causes of baldness, according to Dr. Copland (“ Dictionary of Practical Medi- cine’) are: Whatever debilitates and exhausts the system; such as dangerous hemorrhages, low fevers, care and disappointments, the de- pressing passions and anxiety of mind, excessive application to study, the contact of rancid, sep- tic, or putrid animal matters with the scalp, and the rrequent or prolonged use of mercury. It may also be caused by exposure to the sun’s rays, by the fumes of quicksilver, by the friction of a military cap or helmet, by chronic eruptions of the scalp, and by the use of tobacco. It is said to be endemic in some places. Leo Africanus has stated that baldness is common in Barbary ; Tournefort, that it is almost universal wn Mycone, one of the Cyclades; and Sir R. Sibbald, that it was frequent in Shetland, in his time, owing to the fish diet of the inhabitants. That living chiefly on fish, and on poor un- wholesome food, may aid in its production, is not improbable. The salts of sea-water, left in GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. | | | ~~ anne the hair, will sometimes cause it indirectly ; hence it is desirablt, in sea-bathing, for ladies to wear an oil-skin cap, as it will, else, be found difficult to dry the hair thoroughly. Extreme distress of mind has produced a gra- dual loss of hair within twenty-four hours; but such instances are extremely rare. The loss of the hair is frequently the result of some organic disturbance, arising from derange- ment of the stomach, indigestion, excess of food, want of exercise, and nervous excitement. The best treatment for this defect is frequent cutting, and due attention to the digestive organs and proper state of health of the body. Baldness may arise either from contraction or relaxation of the skin of the head. Strong local irritation, producing a tendency of blood to the part, has frequently been found efficacious in restoring the hair in bald places on the head. Blistering ; the application of caustic potash ; and an ointment composed of cantharides and lard, have been severally tried, with more or less advantage ; but they are dangerous applica- tions. If the bald parts become red after smart friction with the hand, there is every chance that the skin may be rendered soft and permea- ble for the renewed growth of the hair. To restore the hair in cases of baldness re- quires unremitting attention; the action of the blood through the thick and deadened tissue of the skin must be promoted, the hair tubes re- lieved of external embarrassment, and a free secretion of the fluid by which hair is nourished excited. Where hair has once grown, there this organization exists ; it may be torpid, but while the constitutional power is unimpaired by ad- vance of years, or actual disease, it possesses vitality, and may be restored to activity. Several German writers (among others, Dzonde, Dieffenbach, and Wieseman) assert as the result of experiments that hairs plucked from the follicles, and inserted in the punctures of the skin, will take root and grow. This statement, according to Dr. Muller, requires confirmation. Dr. Hassall (“* Microscopic Ana- tomy of the Human Body’’) also alludes to the assertion. ‘‘ Hairs,” he observes, “may be transplanted, and, it is said, will grow after such transplantation, in consequence of the adhe- sions and organic connection established be- tween them and the adjacent tissues ; a fact of which practical advantage might be taken, if correct.” Among the Hebrews, baldness was accounted not merely a defect, but a curse; and among all nations, a premature loss of hair has been usually considered degrading or humiliating.

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The loosening of the hair, which frequently takes place, if neglected, would terminate in baldness. Blanching of the hair is comparatively rare in persons of light hairand complexion, being most prevalent in those of swarthy complexion and black hair. The hair of men more commonly falls off than that of women ; and they become bald from the greater excitement of the brain which their pur- suits occasion. Bald women are scarcely ever seen ; nevertheless, some ladies who follow the pursuits of literature are obliged to cover their baldness with headdresses of hair prepared by the coiffeur. It has been observed that agri- culturists, and laboring men in good health, who exercise manual labor out of doors, retain their hair to a late period in life, whilst the man of science and literature, the merchant confined to his counting-house, the shopkeeper, and the factory operative, often become bald. This affliction, for it certainly’is one, falls also upon ministers of state, lawyers, and legislators ; upon all those, in short, who over-exert the intellect- ual powers, and neglect, or are ignorant of, the precautions necessary to preserve the hair. The sedentary, the studious, the debilitated, and the sickly are, with few exceptions, those who are earliest visited with gray hairs. The farm laborer, the seaman, all whose employment con- sists in exercise in the open air, and whose diet is no better than is necessary to preserve health, are those whose hair latest affords signs that the last progress has commenced, that the fluids have begun to be absorbed, the textures to dry up and become withered. The heavy covering for the head to which men have been doomed is an unfailing cause of injury to the hair. Many ineffectual attempts have been made to alter the fashion of the un- sightly hats in vogue. ‘“ Even at the present day,” observes Dr. Cazenave, “ the hat, by its weight, impermeability, and the pressure which it occasions round the head, materially assists in the premature destruction of the hair.” I may add, in confirmation of the foregoing remarks, that sailors, butchers’ boys, and boys of the Blue-coat School, the lower classes of Irish, the Esquimaux, and others, who continu- ally go with the head uncovered, have usually a eopious and fine head of hair. Four causes have been assigned by different parties for the hair turning gray. Ist. Lack of the coloring, occasioned by debilitated state of the body, from whatever cause arising. 2d. Contraction of the skin, which, nipping the hair too tightly, prevents the colored oil from ascend- VOL. L.—12 A SERIES OF PAPERS ON THE HAIR. PPP PP LL PLL | | | ; | | 138 ~~ ese ing. 3d. It has been supposed that an excess of phosphate of lime (which is always formed more largely in old persons than young) causes the hair to change color, by forcing itself into the channels which should be occupied by the oil. And 4th. It has been pretended that the depressing emotions of the mind generate a white fluid, and that hence arises the grayness of the hair. The two last reasons are, I think, untenable. White and gray hairs are natural to old age. When the body becomes infirm from the decay of nature, the coloring matter of the hair re- fuses to flow. Of course, the hair, either in falling off, or losing its color, must yield to that general law of nature by which all organized beings are born, and grow, and reach maturity, and then decline, decay, and die. Many a viveur who has taken no note of time is suddenly startled by the discovery, as he shaves, of a few gray hairs—* pursuivants of death’”—and he eradicates the tell-tales with any but an agreeable sensation. Our Parisian friends, who seem to be profoundly afflicted at the appearance of the first snows of age, have organized a diligent army of young girls to war against decay, and to wrest from Time the fatal ensigns he plants upon our brow. The Salons Epilatoires, where youth pays this little atten- tion to age for an inconceivably small sum, usually hang out, “* Plus de Cheveur Gris!” and, indeed, of late, many advertisements in the London papers begin with “No more Gray Hairs !”’ An anecdote as to the cause of gray hairs, which is floating about just now, may appro- priately be given here. At a private party in London, a lady—who, though in the autumn of life, had not lost all dreams of its spring—said to Douglas Jerrold, “I cannot imagine what makes my hair turn gray; I sometimes fancy it must be the ‘ essence of rosemary,’ with which my maid is in the habit of brushing it. What do you think?” ‘I should rather be afraid, madam,” replied the distinguished dramatist, dryly, ‘‘ that it is the essence of Time /” Loss of color of the hair may be accidental, premature, or senile, and it may be partial or general. The hair begins to be gray first at its free extremities; but it often changes in that portion which is nearest the skin. Men usu- ally begin to get gray about forty, many be- tween thirty and forty, and some not until a more advanced age. Blanching of the hair ap- pears to arise from a diminished secretion of the coloring matter by the bulbs or follicles. Mis- colored hair, or a preternatural change from a

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134 GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE, very light to a very dark color, is not unfre- quent, Shaving the head is injurious to the hair, and should never be resorted to unless absolutely necessary, as in cases of sickness. The injuri- ous effects are plainly visible in the tonsure of the Roman Catholic priesthood, who will be observed, for the most part, bald before they are forty. b. $ ; g Herodotus, indeed, tells us that “ those who shave the hair most frequently become bald the latest ;” but this assertion is not borne out by practical experience; on the contrary, it in- creases the irritation on which loss of hair de- pends ; and while it causes the hair to grow thicker, it, at the same time, induces it to fall earlier and more gasily MRS. SLOPER’S SWAN BY FRANCES BROWN. Wuen I was last a tiger—Readers, many situations, responsible and otherwise, have been filled by your humble servant since then; but at my latest appearance in the above character the season was dull, genteel families did not like tallish boys, and for the want of a better engage- ment, I mounted the livery of Mrs. Captain Sloper. The jacket I must say was tight, and the buttons none of the brightest; but these were not the only difficulties about the Sloper establishment. It was situated in Berkeley Street, where Mrs. 8. and two grown-up daugh- ters occupied the drawing-room floor; with space for an unwashed woman, called cook, in the kitchen; and a closet in the extreme attic for the maid. As for me, my rest was appointed on two packing-boxes in the lobby, which were ingeniously covered with green cloth, so as to resemble a long table by day, and by night aceommodated my mattress, self, and other et- ceteras. Mrs. Budgely, the lady paramount, whose dwelling was in the sunk flat, had a dingy corner-room below stairs, with a half- window in it, the use of which she accorded for a small consideration to us inferiors, by way of a servants’ hall. Such were the domestic accom- modations of my new place. The duties thereto annexed were, to answer the knocks of Mrs. Sloper’s visitors, especially those who came in es, to take in all cards and letters, and to J after the ladies in token of their high gentility, through park and street. Mrs. Sloper was a little lean lady, with a great deal of preserved pettiness, a soft voice, an insi- nuating manner, and a habit of talking senti- mentally about everything, including the departed Captain. Her daughters, Miss Caroline and Miss Louisa, were unlike their mamma—tall, grim-looking young ladies of | know not what age; but they dressed in the newest style. , Behind that the Misses Sloper would not have lingered half an inch for the world. I always thought it was watching it that made them so very thin; and night and morning they had but two subjects—rank and fashion. The walks they took, with me“ behind them, seemed to be the glory of their days; though wherein con- sisted the triumph, to this hour I cannot tell. They had no admirers that ever came under my observation, very few acquaintances recognized them, and they had no eyes for anything below a coronet. Sometimes, however, there was a smile bestowed by a fair equestrian in the park, or a bow from a dowager’s carriage-window, and the Slopers went home crowned with satisfac- tion. The forenoon was always consumed in dressing for that exhibition. When it was over, Miss Louisa practised on the piano, and Miss Caroline wrote letters perpetually. They rarely went out in the evenings, and saw no company except a few queer-looking women, whom Mrs. Sloper called “dear old friends.” They kept the drawing-room door particularly well closed while those ladies stayed, and there were always oysters and hot gin for supper. Mrs. Sloper had, however, other visitors. There was not a day throughout the London season that from two to five carmages did not stop at her door, and all manner of Honorable Misses, Countesses Dowager, and ladies in their own right, came out of them. I have seen a Marchioness meet her daughter-in-law on the stairs, and a paralytic Duchess carried up by her two footmen, but never a sample of aristocracy in broadcloth. I had seen a tiger in too many houses not to know something of high life, and it was a marvel of my days what brought such people to Mrs. Sloper’s drawing-room. Under such circumstances, one’s ears naturally grow keen. Miss Caroline’s eye had been always so;

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and though seldom far from the door, all the conversation I could catch regarded a stuffed swan. Besides’ the deceased Captain, it was Mrs. Sloper’s whole stock-in-trade in the talking line. There was a romantic story which all the house could’tell, thanks to frequent hearing— that the Captain had shot it on the anniversary of their wedding-day at Lough something, in the Western Highlands, where they were on a visit to the old Duke of Argyle, together with all his Grace said on the occasion. In consequence, Mrs. Sloper kept it in a glass case perpetually locked, took it with her wherever she went as sure as her bandbox, and brought out the dar- ling bird for nearer inspection only to her titled visitors. What new beauties they saw in the swan puzzled me much, for the same ladies often came day after day, Lucelle, the French maid, who was seldom out of the drawing-room, and who used to scold occasionally in good English with her mistress, might have thrown light on the matter; but though thefe wasn’t man or boy within the walls except myself, she never called me anything but enfant, and when particularly ill-tempered, mon cher. Confidence was not to be expected from that quarter; but, if the car- riages astonished me, they created a still deeper interest in the mind of Mrs. Doctor Meddling- ton next door, and among our opposite neighbors the Misses Ruggley. Mrs. Doctor Meddlington was a managing lady, with three grown-up daughters, two grow- ing-up sons, and an obedient husband. Nobody mentioned the doctor, except in connegtion with some delicate families about Park Lane, amongst whom his practice lay, and they couldn’t have had a milder physician. His most decided advice began with, “‘ Now what would you like to take?” and the staple of his prescriptions was rose-water and cinnamon. Whether Mrs. Meddlington had subdued him to that degree, or found the work done to her hand, no man could tell me; but being a country brewer's heiress, she had a considerable income at her own disposal, and the ambition of her life was to be in the great world. There were five Misses Ruggley, besides a maiden aunt, over the way. The junior ladies had come from Jamaica, on the death of an old planter, some three years before. There was a controversy among us servants whether or not they should be called of color; but it was cer- tain that they rented a handsome house, kept a footman and a phaeton, and were athirst, as six ladies in one house only can be, for gentility. Readers, it is true that every condition of life PPP PAARL. RARER ~ MRS. SLOPER’S SWAN. AAD 1385 _imparts its peculiar knowledge; and among the lessons of my tiger days, I learned that no mor- tal aspiration is more likely to fall short of goal and guerdon, than that which fired the souls of Mrs. Meddlington and the Ruggleys. The for- mer lady’s bold endeavors after good society, known as they were to Greens the maid, and Griffin the coachman, had hitherto been not a whit more successful than the moderate mea- sures put in practice over the way. Both house- holds had bestirred themselves in vain, but not without mutual remark, and more than common emulation. Their rivalry in pursuit of rank was further augmented by a relationship-in-law which somehow existed between the doctor and old Miss Ruggley, a fact which the families acknowledged by keeping up a sort of chilly acquaintance, and a vigilant eye on each other’s proceedings. From the advent of Mrs. Sloper in Berkeley Street, which took plaee exactly three weeks before I entered her service, all this careful observation was directed to the first floor. I think a single carriage did not escape either house, and the smallest information being thankfully received, maid and man were active in collecting intelligence from Mrs. Budgely. To do her justice, she never forgot to com- municate; but the good woman had no story to tell. She was sure the Slopers must be real ladies, because they paid their rent regularly, had such good dinners, and brought nothing but carriage people to her door. Mrs. Budgely’s cap stood an inch higher on the strength of those daily carriages; the house became magnified in her eyes, from kitchen to attic. She raised the second floor three shillings a week on that con- sideration, and wouldn’t have parted with her drawing-room lodgers, I believe, had there been a falling off in the dinners, or even in the rent. The Ruggleys and Meddlingtons pondered long on the problem of so many carriages coming to people with nothing but a first floor and a tiger. Its puzzling power actually brought the families to something like intimacy, making them lay their heads literally together at the windows. Mrs. Meddlington knew, in common with all philosophers, that inquiry was the highway to truth; and a little private investigation being instituted under her management, it was ascer- tained that the Slopers’ last residence was in Sloane Street, Chelsea, where they kept the same style, had as many carriage visitors, and took a little tour at the end of every season. With these facts before her, the Ruggleys’ aunt at once hit on a solution. The Slopers were reduced branches of a peerage, in whom, ; though fallen from high estate, the friends of

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136 PLP LLP PARAL AA. their better days continued to take an interest, at least the fairer portion of them; and having, like most discreet single ladies, an unflattering opinion of creation’s lords, that circumstance furnished Miss Ruggley senior with confirmatory evidence on the subject of their self-love, incon- stancy, and worldly-mindedness, which she did not fail to improve for the benefit of her nieces. How far the young ladies profited by those sage comments, I cannot tell; but by a vote of both houses, it was determined to cultivate the Slo- pers. How to begin was the point. They knew nobody acquainted with the fair reduced; and an introduction to the neighbor whose every poke at the fire one hears through the brick walls is among the greatest difficulties of Lon- don life. Nevertheless, as might be expected from a lady of her spirit, Mrs. Meddlington broke ground. She found out that the Misses Sloper and their mamma occasionally walked in Kensington Gardens under my protection; and having judiciously dogged them with the three grown-up daughters, contrived to be overheard admiring their respective graces, and then to slide into conversation on the weather and other topics of common interest. Their way home wasthesame. The ladies walked together; and aspeaking acquaintance being thus established, it gradually grew into a visiting one, after the Misses Meddlington presented Miss Caroline with sundry bouquets of rare flowers, and lent Miss Louisa a lot of new music. As for the Ruggleys, they lay in wait at Saint George’s, where both families worship- ped fashionably, till fortune and a rainy day granted them the opportunity of driving Mrs. Sloper home in their phaeton. Miss Cassandra and Miss Christabel, the eldest of the nieces, courageously called next morning to hope the damp had done no harm; and from henceforth there was a quict but unslumbering contention between them and the Meddlingtons for the affections of Mrs. Budgely’s “ first floor.” The Slopers distributed their smiles so equally that an outbreak was impossible; they accepted Mrs. Meddlington’s presents, and borrowed the Ruggleys’ phaeton. At evening parties, they glorified both drawing-rooms, and were never found wanting at friendly dinners. The young ladies exchanged tokens of love in every shape, from new songs upward. Mrs. Sloper showed the swan, and told tales of the dear captain in connection with earls, marquises, and dukes, to the building-up of old Miss Ruggley’s faith, and the general edification of her new acquaint- ances. Indeed, the Slopers, one and all, made great conversational use of their titled friends. GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. { AAA The “Romance of the Peerage” was not pub- lished in those days, or Miss Caroline would have had it by heart. As it was, she rivalled the “Court Journal” in fashionable intelligence, while her mamma and sister dwelt chiefly on the uncertainty of fortune, and their better days. The date of that golden age remained undis- coverable, notwithstanding the united researches of the cook, Mrs. Budgely, and myself; but it was so talked of, and confirmed by the still com- ing carriages, that, though I cannot say Madame Lucelle ever looked quite orthodox, we all at length believed in the exalted rank and reduc- tion of the Slopers. Thus the season wore away, the carriages grew fewer, and at length ceased. Mrs. Sloper said all her friends had left town, and they must take their own little tour to Paris. It was a sort of habit the dear captain had taught them, and they would not think the year com- plete without it. Going to France, og anywhere else, was, at the period of my story, by no means so common as now. Through how many changes has one to look back! George IV. was in his Pavilion ; Charles IX. in the Tuileries; free-trade was undreamt of; steam in its infancy; and French gloves and laces were like the “ Hesperian apples” to every Englishwoman. Moreover, a trip to Paris was awfully genteel—none of the Meddlington and Ruggley circle had yet thought of that; but the commanding genius of Mrs. Dr. at once perceived how common people could be distanced by travelling in company of the carriage-visited Slopers. Her plan met with warm approbation in the first floor. It would be so delightful! Mrs. Sloper knew such nice cheap ways for a party to travel. The Ruggleys scorned to be behind their age after that intima- tion. Did you ever know a West Indian who hadn’t some notion of saving? In short, a party consisting of the Slopers, Mesdames Cassandra and Christabel Ruggley, Mrs. Meddlington and her eldest daughter Mary Ann Enivira, with the obedient Doctor, as his lady remarked, “ to look after the luggage and be useful,” journeyed down to Dover by the ancient respectable coach road, and were duly shipped on board the Calais packet. Mrs. Budgely was left in charge of our apart- ments; old Miss Ruggley appointed generalissimo of the rival establishments; Madame Lucelle accompanied her ladies ; and I was taken to help Doctor Meddlington with the luggage—no light charge it was; but the abundance of ladies’ travelling requisites is doubtless to many minds a subject more familiar than agreeable. Suffice it, therefore, to say that there were boxes of all PRARAAL AAA

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. shapes, trunks of every size, and the indispen- sable swan, without which Mrs. Sloper declared she would be miserable. As everybody knows the way from Dover to Paris, I will only remark that, knowing seven ladies, including his own, expected him to do his duty, the doctor stood by the bandboxes like an Englishman ; and certainly, to my unsophis- ticated youth, it appeared that Mrs. Sloper did know nice cheap ways of travelling for herself and daughters. Under her conduct, however, we arrived safe at Madame Pierpont’s boarding- house in the Rue St. Madeleine. I had famous times in Paris. The ladies never required me to walk after them there, though they went out at all hours to see charming friends among the old noblesse in Faubourg St. Germain, who lived in magnificent hotels belonging to their families ever since the wars of the League. Madame Lucelle sometimes went with them; but she had work enough taking in small parcels, which were brought to my mistress by all sorts of people—old Jews, dirty women, and sharp-looking men, the greater part of whom came late in the evenings. How the rest of our company enjoyed the trip, I can- not exactly say, but they went everywhere, looked very much from hdme, and helped Mrs. Meddlington to scold the doctor. We had not been a fortnight in Paris till I noticed that the Slopers sat up véry late in the large room, which, according to French fashion, the whole family with Madame Lucelle occupied. At the end of a month everybody was willing to go: all was packed up, trunks, boxes, and the swan. I did think I had grown fatter by the journey; so had the Slopers every one, though they said they had caught cold, and wore such heavy cloaks and dresses, that all three looked like moving bundles. I saw them wipe their faces many a time in the diligence; but at length, to the doctor’s undisguised joy, we were all fairly on board the Dover packet. It was fine vintage weather, and the luggage was piled on deck. There were many passengers, and among them a military-looking person who wore black mous- taches, and was called the chevalier by two smoking companions. This gentleman disgusted all the remaining ladies of our party by, in a manner, attaching himself to Mrs. Sloper. She had never seen him before; but so assiduous were his attentions, and so rapid his progress in 12* MRS. SLOPER’S SWAN. Oe est me esi Oi enn 137 her good graces, that I caught myself calculating, as a tiger might, on the immediate successor to the poor dear Captain, with all the dukes he visited. I heard my mistress eloquent on that subject as we neared the English shore. She was showing the swan, where it sat proudly in its travelling-box with a plate glass lid. It was a charming swan, he had never seen its like, and the Chevalier wished to examine it more nearly. The key Mrs. Sloper always carried was out in an instant, the box was unlocked, and the Chevalier’s admiration knew no bounds. We were running up to Dover pier. He looked up for a moment, and talked of the majestic view. Mrs. Sloper turned to be enthusiastic also. I saw something like the gleam of a small knife between his fingers, and the next minute a long end of the “ best point”? was slowly drawn out of the swan’s craw. from the three Slopers; but a custom-house officer, the first who boarded us, pounced on the swan. The trunks, the boxes, and the whole party were, in short, seized and searched. There were girdles of gloves found with the Ruggleys, and a muff lined with ribbons in the wardrobe of Mrs. Meddlington; but I heard that more than a thousand pounds’ worth of lace was taken out of the heavy cloaks and dresses under which the three Slopers travelled so laboriously, and the contents of the swan were considered the noblest capture the Preventives had made ‘for years.. How long Mrs. Sloper had carried on the trade none could tell; but the coming of the carriages was now explained to the satisfaction of all but the Ruggleys and Co. They got home safe, I believe, and paid considerable fines. My honored mistress and her daughters were im- prisoned for want of two thousand, in which, as Mrs. Budgely said, “‘ they wis hexchacquered.” Madame Lucelle turned king’s evidence against them all, and went back to her country with flying colors. I had some trouble in finding another place, but lived nevertheless, and was not unthankful to hear that the friend of duch- esses had got the fine commuted to something she could pay. Mrs. Budgely said, “ she left’ two-and-nine-pence-halfpenny in her debt, and having somehow discovered that her husband had been a tide-waiter and not a poor dear cap- tain, she makes a point of telling everybody who will listen the story of Mrs. Sloper’s swan. There was a general scream

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CHARADES IN ACTION. We omit the subject of this Charade, and will do so in future, leaving our subscribers a month to guess and make out what it is. ACT I. DRAMATIS PERSON. Extperty BacueEtor. Youne WaGs. Scene 1—Second floor back of elderly Bachelor. Enter E_perty Bacne or, who seats him- self in arm-chair, and commences reading Sun- day Times. He turns to the advertisements, and reads intently. Suddenly he jumps up, and kisses the second column of the advertisements, PALALOLD DEE OLE L PDO then presses it to his heart, and, in impassioned dumb-show, informs the audience that he must hasten to meet some one in the passage, and, by holding his clasped hands towards the ceiling, intimates that he will force her to accept his love. He snatches up a pen, and writes a letter. Having folded it up, he seizes his hat and um- brella, and rushes forth. Scene 2— Waterloo Bridge by night. Enter Youne Waas with the letter written { by Elderly Bachelor. Whilst one of them pre- tends to read it, the others lean one ear forward £K ae ACT Iti. DRAMATIS PERSON. Horse-Gvarp. His CHARGER. Youne Laptes anv Otp Lapies. Scene—The erterior of the Horse-Guards, with } stall under window-pole for Guard and his Charger on duty. The clock seen on the man- tle-piece in the distance. 138 —n——eooeow™m The name will be given in our next number. to show they are listening attentively; and, by holding their sides, intimate that they enjoy the contents marvellously. Suddenly they point to the door to tell that the Bachelor is coming, and one of them runs out, whilst the others all retire behind the win- dow curtains. Re-enter Young Wag with friend dressed in a lady’s gown, and a thick veil thrown over her head. The Young Wag also retires behind cur- tains, leaving Young Lady alone. Enter Elderly Bachelor. He sees the Lady, presses his heart, and points towards her. She lets fall her pocket-handkerchief as a signal. Then elderly Bachelor rushes towards her, and, falling on his knees, declares his passion. Gig- gling heard behind window curtains. He leads her to ottoman, and prevails upon her to be seated. He offers her his hand and well-filled She consents. He then begs of her to show him her face. She refuses; but he pleads so earnestly that at last she is persuaded. On lifting the veil, he falls back in horror at finding Wags rush out R A Trumpet is heard, when— Enter Gvarp, mounted on the back of his gallant Cuancer, which he guides to the sentry stall under the window. On his head is his purse. she is—black.

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CHARADES IN ACTION. 139 RN RN eee helmet,* and on his shoulders are hair-brush epaulettes ; on his breast he wears bright dish- cover cuirass, and his moustache is of the finest burnt cork, or bird’s-eye tobacco. No sooner has he taken his post, than— Enter several Lapres, who gather round Guard. Some of them express their admiration of his beautiful eyes; others, in their love for him, stand for minutes with clasped hands, and intimate by their gestures that they are suffering from acute sideache. Every moment the crowd round stall increases, and the last arrivals dart angry glances at the early comers. The Guard smiles graciously at all, but in particular to an tion is riveted on Old Lady with heavy purse. The others perceiving that, despite their pre- sents, he slights their love, grow jealous of Old Lady, each moment becoming more and more violent, and gathering menacingly round Guard. At last enter small battalion of Guards, who try to disperse the small mob; but in vain. An imaginary Magistrate makes his appearance. He pretends to read the riot act from a piece of music, but without effect; the Ladies still cling to the Life-Guardsman. At length the Magis- trate, by well-expressed gesticulations, directs the soldiers to present walking-sticks. They do so. At the sight of this the Ladies scream, and run off in all directions. 5 Oxtpv Lapy with a well-filled purse hanging from her arm. Trumpet heard in distant passage, and exit Guard on his Charger. Re-enter Guard. The Ladies crowd round him. Some present him with screws of full- fiavored tobacco. He is gracious to those who give him anything; but, above all, his admira- = ACT III. DRAMATIS PERSON &, Omnisus ConpvUcToR. His Riva O._p Lavy anpD FamiIty. Mos. PoLICEMAN, Scene—Charing Cross. To the right are seen two of the opposition Conveyance Association sofas, waiting, on their way to Bank, for pas- sengers. Enter Omnisvus Conpvucror and His Riva in great-coats, and On their breasts they wear their saucepan lid They each mount their sofas, and, comforters round necks. badges. holding up their forefingers, lean forward 2 la Taglioni, hailing the distant passers-by. Every now and then they turn round and shake their fists at each other, putting themselves into the much-admired attitudes of street disputants. Enter O_p Lapy and Famity of four sweet children in great hurry, and all holding up their fingers to stop omnibus. The Conductor and his Rival descend, when a violent struggle to possess the fares takes place. Two of the chil- dren are carried kicking to one sofa, and two * The very best imitation helmet that can be made is the coal-scutitle. Some people object to it, and prefer the water-can ; but it’s nothing to the coal-scuttle. ‘ are thrust into the o¢her, whilst Old Lady wrings her hands, and by her action intimates she is calling Police. The Conductor and his Rival return to Old Lady. Each seizes an arm, and endeavors to drag her to his omnibus. Old Lady resists, expressing the strongest indigna- tion. All the time the men are abusing one

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140 GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE, Lees _—_—_—_—~—~~n~ ss — another, and each insisting in violent gesticula tion that the Lady called him first. At last one drags away her shawl, and the other her bag. Mos gathers round, and insist on Conductor and his Rival “ letting the Lady alone.” Enter PottcemMan, who immediately releases Old Lady, liberates kicking family, and takes the numbers of Conductor and his Rival. The Lady expresses great gratitude to Police- 4 man, and takes an ivory card-counter from her Policeman turns his head purse to give to him. away. HILL FARM; OR, A WEEK’S ANGLING. BY ALICE B. NEAL. “Come now, Austin, you must be tired of holding up the soles of your boots to an admir- ing public.” Well, what if I am? What else can I do with my feet this outrageous weather?” Never- theless, the young gentleman slowly removed the highly polished patent-leathers from the chair back which they had been ornamenting, in the great reading-room window of the Saint Nicholas Hotel. ‘ Whom have you been look- ing up?” ** The Mercers—ought to be here from New Orleans; but, as they haven’t arrived, I’m saved the bore of a call.” **Oh, I left them in Quebec; won’t be here for a fortnight yet. Fannie’s worth talking to —quite fresh.” “And a tolerable catch,” responded Mr. Hamilton, replacing his card in one side of a cigar-case, and offering the other to his friend. ** What! won’t smoke? You must be in the last extremities. Come, take a ride.” * Too—hot—what kind of nags?” **My own; tolerably fast; not too much so for a family man. You ought to sce that boy of mine! By the way, let me drive you out to Edgewater. Your sister and Virginia used to be great friends at Madame Ghegary’s. She’ll be delighted.” * Any young women 2?” “Two or three. Any inducement?” “ Not a bit; just the reverse. However, give me out inveterate, a bear—a »worn woman- hater.” $ “ The fact is, Austin, the women spoil you.” ** No; they only want to marry me, that’s all, and I can’t afford it these hard times. A wife’s the most expensive luxury a man can set up.” ** Better tell Virginia so.” “Dare say I shall by to-morrow morning. . There ’s my carpet-bag now, in the office ; stuffed there two hours. I was just getting ready to toss up between Sharon and the White Mountains.” * Well, let’s be off, then; fifteen miles is something of a trot. I suppose, by another year, I shall settle down and take to the rail- road and morning papers, as my neighbors do; steady-going old covies. Jump in.” The well-matched horses sprang forward through the crowd of drays and omnibuses, through the glare and mire of Broadway in August, when the very stones seem to give out a burning heat, and in the crowd upon the pave- ment you look in vain for a familiar face. Then they turned into the broad, shadeless avenue, with its rows of deserted palaces and solitary un- barred churches, to the vacant ground beyond, promising fortunes to its future possessors, and beautiful to the capitalist, though as unsightly to the uninitiated as bare masses of rock, dusty flats, browsing goats, swarming children, and the shanties of squatters can make them. “When the City Hall is located on Murray Hill,” began Mr. Hamilton. “ And the sky falls,” interposed John Austin, tipping his Canadian straw hat a little more over his fine face, for the glare from the long sandy road was by no means agreeable.

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HILL FARM; OR, A WEEK’S ANGLING. EEE 141

“Nonsense! Bordell—you’ve heard of Bor- ments and experiences, when they reached the dell, the great up-town landholder—had a man to survey up as far as Spuyton Duoyl Creek, and by his calculations of unimproved lots, and ” the ratio of progression in the last ten years” — “Oh, don’t, Hamilton! I hate your New York everlasting real estate mania as I do—politics”— * And women,” said the discomfited Hamil- ton, who, like every thorough-bred New Yorker, talked ‘‘ real estate” as naturally as a farmer does crops and the weather. ‘“‘ What shall a fellow talk about that you can get up an interest in? I believe it’s all affectation with you.” ** No, it isn’t, in honor; I can’t help it. You know, we travelied rather fast at Yale—all the °46 Seniors did—and then I went abroad, and then ‘ marched back again,’ as the army did ‘ out of England into Spain.2 When I’m on my plantation, there isn’t a happier, more content- ed, hard-working man in Alabama. Only it’s confoundedly dull rainy days and evenings.” “ Ah, that’s it; no Virginia and babies, you see.” “Bah! I beg your pardon; deliver me from pinafores, and hominy and molasses fingers !”’ **You have variety enough coming North every summer, when the crop’s disposed of.” * And spending every cent it brought before I get home, poor as a church mouse.” *TIn riotous living,’? quoted Mr. Hamilton, sententiously. “No; it just goes. I’m not particularly fast now ; got through with that long ago; but, as the boatman said, ‘what’s the use of high wages, twelve dollars a month, when it just wastes off again, like’ ” **Clear case,’”’ said Hamilton, tipping a fly from the neck of the off horse; “you want a wife to hold the purse-strings, and see where the money goes to. I married through motives of economy, I tell Virginia.” * Driving into a branch to keep dry ?”’ * Not a bitof it; I saved a thousand dollars the first year. Ask Virginiaif I didn’t. There ’s our place, Edgewater, cost us about eight thou- sand, and improvements a couple more; stock, well, put that down at another, for one of our cows’ —— But what had the careless, good-natured Southerner to do with statistics like this? Certainly he found no more interest in them then than in the other repudiated topics of con- versation ; but Fred Hamilton rambled on, with all the godt of an amateur country gentleman, of Durham short horns, China fowls, early vegetables, and astonishing seedlings. He was not half through with his catalogue of experi-

« 4 5 ; ; 5 5 $ $ § $ g ‘ 4 : 4 4 2 4 § 4 4 § 4 2 < § § 5 ‘ § 5 4 < 4 4 $ < é 4 § é 4 $ § 5 é < if § § 5 5 ; ‘ ¢ pretty village of Newtown, on the outskirts of which Edgewater, his own place, was situated. The entrance from the main road had a fanci- ful Stviss cottage, a little larger than a pigeon- house, by way of alodge. But there were some fine old forest and ornamental trees lining the short avenue, and on the other side of the house the lawn sloped away towards an inlet of the Sound, and was edged by a hard strip of beach, with its fantastic boat and bath-houses, also in the dovecote style. The house itself was as comfortable as broad, shady piazzas, plenty of room, and a tasteful arrangement of cool-looking furniture could make it. Mrs. Hamilton and “ the boy” were in waiting at the hall door at the first sound of wheels upon the gravel. Mr. Austin came to the conclusion that she was “a very nice kind of person,” as he noticed the affectionate greeting between husband and wife, who had been separated for almost three- quarters of aday. He was only afraid he should be asked to kiss the baby; but, when he found the fond papa gave no one else an opportunity of touching the child, nearly smothered in his own rapturous caresses, he took courage, and shook hands heartily with his hostess, who re- ceived him with an unembarrassed, cheerful welcome, that is not always extended by wives to their husbands’ unknown and unexpected friends. By the next afternoon, he was quite at home at Edgewater, skipping pebbles on the beach, hanging over the railing of the boat-house, or strolling, cigar in hand, up and down the shady veranda. He even patted the baby on the head, encountering it by accident in a secluded walk. The nurse, who immediately set him down as a “rale gentleman,” did not fail to communicate the fact to her mistress, and a rise in Mrs, Hamilton’s good graces was the immediate con- sequence. The lady visitors proved “ perfectly harm- less,” to use his own expression: the one, a young married lady with a languid air and insi- pid, pretty face, continually on the look-out for admiration from every one but her husband, soon found that her pains were thrown away on the nonchalant Mobilian; the other, scarcely seventeen, and just out of school, was too hoy- denish to suit his taste, or to care whether she did or not. Mr. Hamilton drove into business every morn- ing, allowing himself great latitude, however, as to the number of hours devoted to it. When at home, his time was divided between his wife

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142 GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE, ~_— PPP PALI and boy, fishing tackle, giant cabbages, his fowl- houses, and his shrubbery. There is no country in the world where a gay young man subsides into the steady-going pater familias as America, and the belle—for Mrs. Hamilton had been one of no little note—steps out of the ball-room into the nursery or store-room as naturally as she made her entrée there from boarding-school. These were the very natural reflections of their guest, as he heard his hostess say she was not sure whether it would be worth the trouble of taking baby to town for the night—hearing Grisi when she arrived—and her husband state his intention of contributing to the agricultural fair, where, by the way, “‘ Fashion” was to ap- pear among the stock. ‘“ He must take a look at Fashion, for the sake of old times. Eh, Austin?” Mr. Austin understood the allusion to one of their college escapades. When on leave for three days, they managed to lose a year’s allow- ance apiece “‘on old Long Island.” But then John Austin had not settled into a Benedick. It had been his lot to see only one type of our countrywomen heretofore, that class that are always hunting watering-places; and, however he might have dreamed over night, the morning’s jaded looks, and a faint computation of milliners’, mantuamakers’, and hotel bills, generally disenchanted him. Besides, he en- joyed the usual reputation of passable young Southerners at Northern springs, of being him- self a fortune ; consequently, he had never been under the necessity of addressing any one; the attentions were all showered on him by match- making mammess and chaperons—we grieve to record—closely seconded by marketable young ladies themselves. It was the fault of the ma- neuvrers themselves, if he grew more fastidious and unimpressible every year. He could never hope to be surprised into matrimony ; for, with them, he had come to be habitually on guard. * You ’re going to stay with us over Wednes- day?” said Mrs. Hamilton, on this particular morning. ‘ You must, Mr. Austin; we count on you as escort. Beaux are exceedingly few and far between in a country neighborhood.” Visions of a picnic or boating party, with ruralizing city ladies, who would expect him to be gallant, flashed before Mr. Austin’s mental vision, and prompted the startled response— “ Wednesday ?—really—no, I think I must be in town the day before. I believe, in fact, it is indispensable.” “Come now,” laughed Mr. Hamilton; “he thinks we have designs upon him. It’s only a tea fight, Jack—very rural—at some out of the way farm-house. Virginia makes it a point of LO A PA ta ttt tft ttt ttt tatiana tte being popular—can’t forget old propensities— and visits everybody in the country.” “Tt will be so droll!’ said the young lady. **T shall die with laughing.” “For my part,” and the married fashionist shrugged her fair shoulders, much too visible through her thin morning-dress, “I confess I only go to oblige dear Mrs. Hamilton. Tea at seven! Positively before dark! What wilds unknown you must penetrate !”” “To oblige me, and astonish the natives by Parisian fashions,” returned their hostess, good- naturedly. ‘“ You know, Bell, that you intend to make a sensation. So will Mr. Austin, I promise him beforehand. Our rural damsels will be pulling caps for him the whole evening.” “The long and the short of it is,” said Mr. Hamilton, rising, “ Virginia has accepted this tea-party invitation, a kind of social gathering we have once a fortnight or so, and every one is expected to bring the friends they may have staying with them at the time. Sometimes it is at a farm-house, as to-day; sometimes at the most stylish country residence of a ci-devant New Yorker. It’s a kind of social experiment our ladies are making, and so far works capitally. Now, will you go or not?’ That’s the sum and substance; for I must be off in ten minutes.” “IT rather think I’ll go.” And your return to the city isn’t quite indis- pensable?” said Mrs. Hamilton, maliciously. “] cannot promise much, for I have never been at Hill Farm, and do not even know the young lady of the house. Our neighbors are mostly people of the plainest stamp, substantial farmers, who have heretofore had very little intercourse with the city; but all the more reliable and good-hearted for that. The novelty will be amusing, if nothing more, to one so travelled as Mr. Austin.” “Who has seen so much of art as to give him a taste for nature.” Mrs. Hamilton shook her head playfully, for he glanced as he spoke after the etherial figure of her married guest. ‘ Good-hearted, but spoiled a little.” And the breakfast-party sepa- rated for the morning. It did seem rather an unusual hour, leaving for an evening visit at four in the afternoon, the usual dinner hourat Edgewater. But the ladies had taken a substantial lunch, and the gentle- men were not expected to join them until eight, or later, if they chose. Mr. Austin, who had exhausted his resources in the absence of his host, stood ready to hand them into the carriage when it was brought round. Mrs. Hamilton, simply dressed, with

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HILL FARM; OR, A WEEK’S ANGLING. 148 ee ae only a few green leaves in her beautifully braided hair, began to grow impatient at her friend’s protracted toilet. It will be so out of place,” she said to Mr. Austin. ‘“ Wemake it a rule to dress as plainly as possible, because many cannot afford to do otherwise, or think they cannot. No one but a New Yorker spends all they are worth on their dress. ‘ Not that Bell can’t afford it. Here she comes at last.” And Mrs. Lawson swam through the veranda towards them in a Saratoga evening-dress, of some indescribable tissue, with innumerable flounces, and the least possible supply of sleeve and corsage. This costume was surmounted by a pale rose-colored cashmere opera cloak, thrown back to display her shoulders and the richly quilted satin lining at the same time. The young lady—Miss Allen, or “ Kate,” as she desired everybody to call her after knowing them five minutes—was decorated with as many rosettes and streamers as a favorite racer, and wore a very short, very full white muslin apron, also streaming with no end of ribbon. *Oh, come with us, Mr. Austin; do now,” she called out, in the most unembarrassed man- ner. ‘* Here’s aseat by me; and you can ride back with Jim. Can’t he, Mrs. Hamilton?” “Certainly, if he chooses. Will you, Mr. Austin? It is a very wild road, and you may chance on some pretty bits of scenery you will miss in an evening ride.” Mr. Austin had nothing better to do, and the carriage moved on at last, though Mrs. Hamil- ton was afraid they would be fashionably late, which she particularly wished to avoid. It certainly was a wild road, over hills almost perpendicular, remarkable hills for that part of the country, and growing narrower every mile. Mrs. Lawson found occasion for various pretty little starts and shrieks, at rough joltings; but Mr. Austin was very much interested. The farms were scattered, and evidently owed good crops to careful culture rather than natural richness of the soil. The houses were nearly all old, entirely devoid of any architectural pre- tensions ; often with a small ill-kept vegetable garden before the front door, and a stable close in the rear. The gray, often moss-grown stone fences, the thrifty gathering of the fields they inclosed, had a peculiar charm in the neutral tint so in keeping with the landscape. Now and then a cur ran out, and barked under the heels of the spirited horses, or geese cackled as they flew with snowy wings outspread directly into the danger they desired to avoid. Domes- tic-looking families of obedient chickens, led by motherly hens, sought an economical subsistence from the roadside, while the barnyard cham- pion, perched on the highest rail of the farm- gate, sunned his burnished plumage as he watched over them complacently. The lowing of kine in the meadows, or the distant tinkle of a sheep-bell, blended pleasantly with the murmur of brook, and bee, and waving foliage. The summer heat was tempered by the shadow of trees and clinging vines, or great hoary rocks, along the roadside. It was a tranquil hour and landscape, such an influence as disposes the lover of Nature’s quiet moods to happy, if not holy thoughts. Mrs. Hamilton’s expressive face reflected the spirit in which her guest was enjoying their lovely ride, for he managed to seem unconscious of the afflictions of Mrs. Lawson, and the inces- sant chatter of Miss Kate, by leaning back in his corner of the carriage, with his eyes shaded as if from the glare of the occasional bursts of sunshine. “Tt is very rude and old-fashioned,” said Mrs. Hamilton, as they passed a homestead, guiltless of paint or shutters, with wall-paper window curtains, and only a well-worn wooden step or two by way of porch to the principal entrance. ‘It seems to me that our good grand- fathers used to think that the squarer, more shadeless, and unpicturesque their dwellings could be made, the better.” ** Such vulgarians !’’ answered Mrs. Lawson. ‘Oh, no, not vulgar, Bell; nothing is vulgar in the country. Don’t you know that? I’d rather meet the most ‘ countrified’ country peo- ple that ever lived than a city vulgarian. The class is quite distinct; isn’t it, Mr. Austin?” * Quite,” said Mr. Austin, relapsing into reverie, and, for the first time, thinking of Hill Farm, their destination, of which all they had seen was probably a type. ‘* Windsor chairs and painted floors, I suppose, by way of interior view. Rather a change from the St. Nicholas! And rural damsels of the milkmaid pattern. Well, anything for a variety, and it’s only for one evening. I shall survive it, I reckon.” It was certainly the view Mrs. Hamilton, as well as the adjacent habitations, had prepared him for; and she was not less astonished than himself when they came suddenly upon a lawn smooth and trim as that of Edgewater, sloping down to the road, and separated from it only by a kind of natural terrace, edged by a light iron railing. ‘Jim,’ the coachman, an old resident, who knew every place for miles around, was certainly preparing to rein in his horses at the stone steps which led up to a winding path

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144 GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. through all this verdure, though as yet they saw no house. ** Are you sure, Jim?” asked Mrs. Hamilton, leaning from the carriage window. “ Hill Farm—Mr. Williams, you know.” * Sure,” said Jim, respectfully, but decidedly. * There ’s the new house, up through the locust- trees; the old one used to stand right ’longside the road, jest where you see them laylock bushes.” The new house, whatever the old one had been, was worthy of the greenery around it. A long, low cottage building, with casement win- dows opening to the ground, and diamond- paned lattices above. It was by no means a costly or showy building, nor in the prevalent fantastic fashion of “ model cottages.” It had, however, a style of its own, neither Florentine nor Gothic, but tasteful, and apparently as con- venient for all practical purposes as the angular, unpainted structures they had found on the road. The out-houses were equally neat, not in full view from the front of the house, and painted a dark brown, relieved by white outline. Mrs. Hamilton and her gentleman visitor ex- changed glances of surprise and approval as they alighted. Miss Kate clapped her hands with her usual emphasis, while Mrs. Lawson seemed only intent on saving her flounces from contact with the ground. As they came up the path, the figure of a young girl appeared in the door-way, perfectly in keeping with her surroundings, so much so that the whole picture seemed scarcely real ; and Mr. Austin almost feared it would fade away, like enchantment, before he could get a nearer view of that gracefully poised head and smiling face. It was naturally an embarrassing position for the young country girl, who was still a stranger, except by name, to her guests, and they rather a formidable party from their station and habitual associations. But, if she felt a quick flutter of embarrassment, it was not betrayed, except by a very becoming flush, that rose and faded so quickly that no one but a careful observer, such as our gallant Southerner, would have noticed it. She was dressed with perfect simplicity, in a pale-blue lawn, the open sleeves edged by a narrow lace, and the throat by a plain cambric collar. She wore a muslin apron, as well as the city girl, but it was of only one breadth and un- ornamented. The expression of her face, and the poise of her figure, at once so free and graceful, so frank, and yet so self-possessed, was the greatest charm of the young mistress of Hill Farm Cottage. ‘ ee ET Nature and Art! what a tableau!” thought Mr. Austin, as he watched her reception of the condescendingly patronizing Mrs. Lawson. ** You were very good to come,” she said to Mrs. Hamilton, evidently sincerely pleased to make her acquaintance; “‘ the road is so rough, and we are such plain people. Will the gentle- man come in?” “Mr. Austin,” said Mrs. Hamilton. Mr. Austin bowed. ‘“ No, he believed not; it was a ladies’ party, and he could not think of intruding so early.” But, as Mr. Austin bowed again and walked away, he felt strengly inclined to accept the invitation, or to do any- thing that would bring him again near that face and voice. They had a wonderful influence over him, chiming so with the quiet naturalness of his present mood. He looked back, as he reached the carriage, and caught a glimpse of her—Lucy, Mrs. Hamil- ton had said she was called—throwing open a casement window, and parting the muslin cur- tain of the chamber to which she had conducted her guests. It decided the half-formed fancy he had suddenly taken. “You may drive home, Jim. Tell Mr Hamilton he will find me here. I’m going to hunt up a trout stream.” So Jim drove away, and he sprang across 4 low stone wall, making for an alder-shaded brook that wandered through the meadow, thinking of Wordsworth’s Lucy—“ a violet by a mossy stone’—and rather astonished at the sentimental train of his own reflections, as he went. (To be continued.) TO KATE. WHeEn light drives darkness from the earth, And gentle morn is brought to birth ; When stars of night fade from the sky The brilliant sun doth mount on high, And glistens on the lake and sea— Then, bonny Kate, 1’ll think of thee! When gently sinks the god of morn, Then twilight to the earth is born, An hour the world does less allure, The mind is calm and fancy pure ; While musing thus my thoughts rove free, Then, dearest Kate, I think of thee. When reading from that Book civine, Where truth shines forth in every line; When warbling forth your sweetest lay, Or kneeling by your couch to pray ; While thus bowed down on bended knee, Then, gentle Kate, oh, pray for me! Harry, New York, Sept. 2, 1854.

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LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF FERDINAND CORTES. FOR GODEY’S YOUNG READERS. BY JOHN B. DUFFEY. (Continued from page 57.) CHAPTER IV. Reception of Cortes at Cempoalla—His arrival at Chia- huitzla—He causes the tax-gatherers of Montezuma to be imprisoned—His alliance with the Totonacs— Villa Rica founded—Transactions at Cempoalla— Destruction of the fleet-—March to Mexico resclved upon. Havine, at length, restored peace and order to his camp, Cortes, finding his present situation an unhealthy one, directed the fleet to sail along shore to Chiahuitzla, an Indian town some thirty miles to the northward, near which he designed founding a settlement. He himself led the troops by land in the same direction, intending, on his march, to pay the visit he had promised to the lord of Cempoalla. When the Spaniards drew near that city, they were met by twenty of its most respectable inhabitants, who, bearing refreshments for the troops, welcomed them there in the name of their lord. Cortes nevertheless marched on as if he feared treachery, sending forward scouts to warn him of any appearance of danger. One of these, having reached the city, came galloping joyfully back, to tell the general that the walls of the houses were of pure silver; but when presently these walls were found to be nothing more than sun-dried bricks brilliantly white- washed, there was much joking at the poor scout’s expense. Yet the city was one of con- siderable wealth and importance, being well built, and containing not less than twenty thou- sand inhabitants. Crowds of these, women as well as men, came out to welcome the Spaniards, crowning the general and his chief officers with wreaths of flowers. Nearly all wore rings of gold around their necks or in their ears and nostrils, and some had ornamented their under lips with curiously fashioned pieces of gold leaf. When the army had marched into Cempoalla, the lord of that city, who, being very corpulent, could not walk without help, came forth from his palace and greeted Cortes with a respect that seemed like adoration. The next day the genc- ral and he had a long conversation in private. Boasting of his sovereign’s grandeur, Cortes declared he had been sent to relieve all suffering VOL. L.—13 under oppression. “If, therefore,” he artfully continued, “I can help you, show me in what, and I will do it cheerfully.” Sighing, and with tearful eyes, the Cempoallese lord complained of his Mexican conquerors, who, he said, crushed his people with heavy taxation, and, when they murmured, tore from them their sons and daugh- ters to be sacrificed. ‘‘ From this oppression,” he exclaimed, “ we long to be relieved; but who can withstand the armies of Montezuma?” J,” replied Cortes, “will not allow such wrongs as you complain of, and will help your people to regain their lost freedom. For the armies of Montezuma, I care nothing, since one Spaniard is stronger than a host of Mexicans!” Having by these and other assurances won the friendship and raised the hopes of his entertainer, Cortes set out for Chiahuitzla. On his arrival there, he was met by fifteen nobles of the place, who received him with great ceremony, perfum- ing him with the smoke of gum copal, which they burned in little fire-pans or censers. While he was conversing with these persons, some of the inhabitants ran up, crying out that the tax- gatherers of Montezuma were approaching. In a moment all was confusion; and the Chiahu- itzlan nobles withdrew trembling, to welcome the new-comers, who, richly dressed, and of a stately bearing, presently stalked by the Spaniards with- out seeming to notice them. Cortes was not at all pleased with their haugh- tiness; but when he learned that they demanded twenty human victims from the lords of Cempo- alla and Chiahuitzla, to expiate their crime in having sheltered him, his indignation seemed to rise to a high pitch, and he ordered the Totonacs, if they desired his friendship, to throw the tax- collectors into prison. After some hesitation, they did so; and, having thus committed them- selves, they would have sacrificed the captives at once, but Cortes would not permit it. As he had thus driven the Totonacs to such open rebellion as insured their destruction unless they sought his assistanee, the wily general now adopted a course which, no matter how things turned out, might still gain him the friendship of Montezuma. Two of the captives were at 145

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, 146 midnight brought before him. ‘ Why were you imprisoned ?” he asked. ‘‘ The Totonacs,” was the answer, “seized us in obedience to your commands.” ‘I know nothing,” said Cortes, hesitating not to lie. ‘I am sorry for what has Go,” he continued, dismissing them been done. secretly with many presents—‘“ go to your mas- ter,.and tell him the Spaniards are his friends!” Meanwhile, some of the Totonacs were for lay- ing all the blame of the ill-treatment of Monte- zuma’s officers upon Cortes; but, cheered by the ** sweet hope of liberty,” a majority of the nobles advocated an alliance with “ those gods,” as they called the Spaniards, whose powerful aid would soon enable them to shake off the yoke of Mexi- can slavery. When they spoke of this to Cor- tes, he warned them to consider what they did. “Yet,” he continued, “if you stand to your words, I will be your leader.”” This declaration the simple-minded people received with much joy, and readily promised submission to the King of Spain. The particulars of this alliance being arranged, Cortes, assisted by the natives, speedily built up, not far from Chiahuitzla, Villa Rica de Vera he Rich City of the True Cross,” nain land Cruz, or “*" first of Christian settlements on the of North America. Meanwhile, Montezuma had heard of the im- prisonment of his officers. Filled with indigna- tion, he ordered the raising of an immense army to punish the rebellious Totonacs, and to drive the insolent Spaniards from his shores. But when the liberated captives came and told how Cortes had treated them, his anger was changed to admiration, and he immediately sent messen- gers, two of whom were his nephews, to thank the Spanish general for his kindness. It gave him much pain, however, he said, to hear that they had encouraged the Totonacs; yet, doubt- ing not that the Spaniards were those divine strangers whose coming had been foretold, for their sake he would not punish the rebels at present. Cortes welcomed the emperor’s messengers courteously. To Montezuma he sent word that the Totonacs were blameless, as they had refused their usual tribute only to be able to help the Christians. “I will soon come and kiss your hands,” he continued, “and make all right with you.” Before the messengers departed, he ordered his cavalry to skirmish on a neighboring plain. With this exhibition the Mexicans were much pleased; nor were the Totonacs wilhout cause for joy. Instead of armies, Montezuma had sent ambassadors to Cortes, of whom “ they began to have a great conceit.” PPP OOIOI—mmEmomESmOmOmOmOE»mOmH»m»é~»eE 3 $ $ ; $ GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. ~ Returning to Cempoalla, Cortes assembled the chief inhabitants, and tried to get them to destroy their idols and become Christians. ‘Our gods are good and bountiful!’ exclaimed the priests who were present, clad in robes of dark cotton, and having their long hair matted with the blood of human victims. ‘* We wish for no better.” The spirit of Cortes now took fire. ** Soldiers!” he shouted, “what do we wait for! Heaven will frown upon us,” he conti- nued, referring to the bloody sacrifices of the Indians, “if we permit such barbarities! Cou- rage then! Now is the time to show our zeal for our religion! Let the heathen idols instantly go down !” Shouting applause, the soldiers now rushed towards the chief temple, which, shaped like a pyramid wanting its peaked top, rose high, with steep steps in the centre. In a moment, as it were, the whole city rang with the yells of the Cempoallese swarming to the defence of their gods. Acting with his usual promptitude and fearlessness, Cortes had the lord and the princi- pal men of the place immediately seized. ‘ You and your people shall surely die,” he said, “if but a single Spaniard be hurt.” “ Pull down our gods if you will,” sorrowfully returned the captives, hiding their faces; “ but know, they will straightway punish you for the wrongs you may do them !” **T will run the risk,” replied Cortes, laugh- ing; and immediately fifty Spaniards sprang up the temple’s steps. Reaching the top, with loud shouts they tore down the idols and hurled them to the street below, where they were burned amid the cries and lamentations of their worship- pers. No fire fell from heaven upon the destroy- ers, as the Indian priests had expected; where- upon, many of them, convinced that their gods were powerless, presently changed their dark robes for others of snowy white, and took an earnest part in the ceremonies by which their late temple was consecrated to the services of Christian faith. Leaving an aged soldier to watch over the new church, Cortes presently returned to Villa Rica. As he knew that his recent conduct, un- less sanctioned by his sovereign, would bring him into trouble, he now resolved on sending letters to the King of Spain, praying that all he had done might receive the royal approval. But he did not trust to fair words alone. Exer- cising that wonderful influence he already had over the greedy hearts of his men, he persuaded them to give up all their dearly-earned treasures, to be presented to their sovereign as a free gift, and as a sample of the riches yet tocome. A

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LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF FERDINAND CORTES. PRARALARAALR APR PLL DIPPER right princely gift it was, too; and the richest specimen of her wealth the New World had as yet sent to the Old! Soon after the sailing of the vessels which bore this treasure, some of the friends of Velas- quez plotted to seize a ship and steal off to Cuba. The conspiracy was discovered, however, and two of the ringleaders executed. On signing the death-warrants of these poor wretches, Cortes, unconsciously perhaps, used the words of the tyrant Nero on alike occasion. ‘* Would,” ex- claimed he, “ that I had never learned to write !” Having returned to Cempoalla, and seeing by the late conspiracy that, should the fears of his men overcome their thirst for gold and glory, they might rise against him, seize the fleet, and force him to relinquish at once the country and his ambitious designs, Cortes determined to anti- cipate any movement of the kind, by having the ships secretly destroyed. Moved by his argu- ments, entreaties, and gold, the pilots of the The general seemed to be taken by surprise. ‘ What!” he exclaimed. “Isitso? Well, then, gentlemen,” he continued, turning to his officers, “‘ we must make the best of it. God’s will be done!” Everything useful about the ships being brought on shore, all but one were sunk. Cortes had vessels reported them unfit for sea. now either to conquer or to perish miserably ; but of this he was well aware, and he knew also that, if he conquered, this single act of daring would render his name immortal. When tidings of the destruction of the fleet reached the soldiers, their They gave themselves up as lost, consternation was indeed and lamented as none can lament but those who great. Fear presently turned into indignation Rushing to despair. at the author of this new calamity. the tent of the general, they upbraided him as having betrayed them and sacrificed them to his cursed ambition. From this, the most difficult strait in which he had ever been, the prompt- ness and fearless audacity of Cortes speedily released him. ‘As for me,” he cried, as the soldiers pressed round him, “I have chosen my part! I will remain here while there is one to bear me company. If there be any cravens here, let them take the one vessel left and return to Cuba; and, telling how they have deserted their comrades, wait patiently till we return with the spoils of Mexico!” As he concluded, the air rang with the united shouts of the army: “To Mexico! To Mexico! We will obey you, gene- ral! Our fortunes are cast with yours!” 147 CHAPTER V. Cortes sets out for Mexico—Interview of his messengers with the Tlascalans—The great wall of the Tlascalans —Battles betweer? them and the Spaniards—Cortes victorious—Peace—Reception of the Spaniards at Tlascala. On the morning of the sixteenth of August, 1519, Cortes, at the head of thirteen hundred Totonac warriors, and four hundred and fifteen Spaniards, with seven cannon and fifteen horses, set out to penetrate to the heart of the populous, powerful, and far from friendly empire of Mex- ico. Crossing a flowery tract of level country, the road began to rise, and, at the close of the second day, the army encamped at Jalapa, since made famous by the well-known drug grown in its vicinity. Still ascending slowly, after pass- ing through a dreary and rugged region, where chilly storms of rain and hail swept down upon them from the mountains, the Spaniards at length reached a delightful plain, where the air was Here they came upon a populous and well-built city, adorned with many beautiful temples, one of which con- neither too hot nor too cold. tained no less than a hundred thousand skulls of human victims. Before leaving this city, where he met a cool reception, its lord being a vassal of Montezuma, Cortes, advised by his Totonac friends, resolved on marching to Mexico by way of Tlascala. This was the chief city of a little republic of the same name, the warlike inhabitants of which were deadly foes to the Mexicans, who had long and vainly attempted their conquest. Though aware of the warlike character of these people, the general thought that, since they hated Mon- tezuma, they would welcome him as a deliverer. To make sure of such a welcome, however, he sent forward four Totonac nobles, with several rich presents, to ask the Tlascalans to allow him and his troops a passage through their country. Receiving ‘‘graciously” the messengers of Cortes, the Tlascalan senate met to consider about granting his request. Some of the sena- tors, believing the Spaniards to be those gods whose coming had been foretold, were for greet- ing them as friends. On this, a venerable chief, whose eyes were dim with the mists of more than a hundred years, rose up. “Our laws,” said he, “bid us receive stran- gers, not enemies. They who now ask admit- tance to our city seem to me monsters cast up by the sea, rather than gods; for how can they be gods who so thirst after gold and pleasure? Let their request, then, be denied. Should they try to force their way here, our arms will make

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148 it known if they be mortal ; if they be gods, we shall have time to implore their pardon !”’ This speech was much applauded; but the friends of peace remained firm; whereupon one of the chiefs proposed a middle course. Xico- tencatl, a young warrior fond of battle and glory, commanded the troops on the eastern frontier. “Let him,” said the new speaker, “ fall at once upon the Spaniards. If victorious, he will have them in his power; if defeated, we can deny that the attack was made by our orders.” This cun- ning policy, it is scarcely necessary to say, was adopted, while the messengers of Cortes were ao detained. Meanwhile, the general had cautiously ad- vanced until his march was suddenly stopped by one of the most wonderful works he had as yet met with in the New World. This was a huge stone wall, nine feet high, and twenty in thick- ness, stretching full six miles from one side to the other of the mountain-locked valley through which he was marching. In the centre was its only opening, some thirty feet wide, and so con- trived that, if well defended, a strong army would have had hard work to pass through. Stopping awhile to examine this wonderful structure, which, he was told, the Tlascalans had erected as a barrier against Mexican invasion, Cortes, being impatient that his messengers had not re- turned, boldly spurred his horse into the entrance, ealling on his troops to follow. Strangely enough, and fortunately for the Spaniards, it was wholly unguarded, and, in a few moments, the little band stood upon the soil of Tlascala. Scarce were the Christians started again, when four thousand Tlascalan warriors fell upon them with unlooked-for fierceness and courage. The struggle was short, however, and the Indians fled, leaving seventy of their number slain. Two Spanish horses were killed, each being beheaded by a single stroke from a Tlascalan sword. Push- ing boldly on, the next day Cortes was furiously assailed by an Indian army thirty thousand strong. Long, terrible, and doubtful was the conflict; but the cannon, the horses, and the desperate valor of the Christians finally pre- vailed. That night the Spaniards and their allies celebrated the victory with feasts, dances, songs, and martial music. The following day Cortes sent messengers to Xicotencatl, the undaunted leader of the Indians, offering peace, and declaring his intention to visit Tlaseala as a friend. ‘‘Gothere when you will,” was the fierce reply ; “ your flesh shall be hacked from your bones and sacrificed to the gods! If you stay where you are, to-morrow J shall myself come and answer you more plainly.” RPRAPL LLL LLLP LLLP PP > > ) GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. SS eeeeeeeee® Great was the alarm this bold defiance gave the Spaniards—an alarm not lessened by their receiving from Xicotencatl an abundant store of poultry and maize, “ that they might strengthen themselves” for the next day’s fight. ‘* We feared death,” writes one of the Christians, “ for we were men;” and for death all prepared that night, by confessing their sins to father Olmedo, and going to communion. Cortes, however, showed no fear, and, on the following morning, the fifth of September, 1519, led out his troops to battle. Covering a vast plain, the Tlascalan host, one hundred thousand in number, stood ready to meet him. Nothing could be more terrible, yet more beautiful than the appearance of the Indians in battle array. Glittering in armor of gold, and silver, and bril- liant feathers curiously worked together; with lofty plumes of green, scarlet, and purple, and innumerable banners waving in the wind; and with their copper-headed darts and spears gleam- ing in the morning sun; the barbarians, yelling and shrieking, swept like an avalanche upon the little band of Christians. Before their crushing mass the Spaniards wavered, yielded, and were hurled back, despite the cheery tones with which Cortes bade them stand firm. But despair gave them more than human strength. They rallied, and laying fiercely about them, at length shook off the enemy, upon whom the artillery now began to thunder with fearful carnage. Impeded by their own numbers, distracted by a quarrel among themselves, and terror-stricken by the iron storm of the Spanish cannon, the Tlasca lans, charged anew by Cortes and his cavalry, wavered, broke, and fled in the utmost confusion. To account for the disastrous defeat of the Indians, their want of discipline is mentioned, as well as their earnest desire to carry off the bodies of their slain, of whom, it is said, not one, though thousands must have fallen, was found on the field of battle. That the Spaniards lost but a single soldier killed, is explained by the fact that the chief endeavor of the Tlascalans was to take the Christians alive, in order to sacrifice them to the gods. Great was the consternation of the Tlascalans at their late defeat, and, in their despair, they sought the advice of their priests. After many sacrifices and incantations, the priests declared that the Spaniards, being children of the sun, could only be conquered at night, when they were not strengthened with more than mortal strength by the beams of their great parent. Though night attacks were contrary to their established military rules, that evening ten thousand warriors marched out, hoping to sur-

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LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF FERDINAND CORTES. prise and cut to pieces the enfeebled Christians. But the moon shining brightly, the watchful sentinels of Cortes caught sight of the dusky columns advancing, and gave thealarm. Quietly, and in a few moments, the general prepared his troops for battle. No sooner had the Indians crept silently to the foot of the eminence on which Cortes was encamped, than they were startled by the loud battle-cry of the Christians, as, bursting from their intrenchments, they swept down the sides of the hill. Panic-stricken by this bold and sudden appearance of an enemy they had thought to be slumbering soundly, the Tlascalans, offer- ing scarcely any resistance, turned and fled in confusion, closely pursued by the Spanish ca- valry, who rode and cut them down without mercy. The next day Cortes sent messengers to Tlas- cala, threatening to bury the inhabitants of the city under its ruins unless they should allow him peaceable admittance. Hopeless and dispirited, the senate immediately dispatched ambassa- dors to make peace with Cortes; but, on their way to him, they were stopped by Xicotencatl, the Indian general, whose military fire was yet unquenched by disaster. The following morning, however, some fifty Tlascalans came into the Christian camp, saying that their general had sent them to make known his desire for peace. Bringing such pleasant tidings, they were welcomed in a most friendly manner. But, being informed that they were spies employed by Xicotencatl, Cortes arrested and examined them; and, finding them to be such, ordered their hands to be cut off Thus mutilated, they were sent back to their general. * Tell him,” was the message they carried, “ that whether he comes by night or day, he will find the Spaniards ready for him!” For this piece of cruelty, Cortes has been harshly censured ; but war is the fruitful parent of cruelty, and, even in these “enlightened times,” I believe, convicted spies are hung. The sad sight of their returned comrades was to the Tlascalan troops a source of horror and consternation. The courage even of Xicotencatl gave way, and, hoping no more from resistance, he went, with many attendants, to the Spanish camp, there to consider the terms of peace. As both parties were heartily sick of the contest, they soon came to an agreement, the Tlascalans yielding themselves vassals to Spain, and en- gaging to assist Cortes, who, in turn, bound him- self to make their enemies his. For the latter, peace was not concluded any too soon. Complaining of their sufferings; that 13° ‘ ) 149 none in the army was unwounded; and that full fifty soldiers had perished by sickness or in bat- tle since leaving Cempoalla; a portion of the troops called upon Cortes, and begged him to return to Villa Rica, and there wait for rein- forcements from Cuba. “Your sufferings,” great, indeed. replied he, * have been But victory has always crowned your hardships. To go back now is impossible. The very stones will rise up against us. Fix your eyes, then, upon Mexico, and go forward, remembering that it is better to die with honor than to live disgraced.”” Long and loud was the applauding shout that greeted this senti- ment, and the spokesmen of the discontented party stole silently away. Yielding to the urgent solicitations of its rulers, Cortes at length began his march to the city of Tlascala, which was some eighteen miles distant. As the Spaniards drew near it, they were met by an immense throng of the inhabit- ants, some of whom, bearing wreaths of flowers, crowned the cavaliers with them, while others filled the air with the smoke and perfume of in- cense. Entering the narrow and winding streets of the city, the army had hard work, though aided by the police, to make their way through the admiring multitude gathered to see the won- derful strangers. Upon the flat roofs @ the one-storied houses, built either of clay, sun- dried bricks, or stone and lime, thousands of women and children, gayly dressed, were col- lected. Overall the streets through which they passed were thrown arches of evergreen and flowers; and the strange music of barbaric trumpets, mingled with wild shouts of “ jubilee and rejoicing, made it appear,” says Clavigero, a Mexican historian, “ rather the celebration of the republic’s triumph than of that of its ene- mies. This day, still commemorated in Tlascala, was the 23d of September, 1519.” CHAPTER VI. Cortes marches to Cholula—Massacre of the people of that city—Cortes resumes his march—First view of the valley of Mexico—Narrow escape of Cortes. HavinG remained in Tlascala a short time, converting the people of that republic from deadly foes to firm and faithful friends, Cortes at length prepared to depart for Mexico, whither, meanwhile, the changeful Montezuma had in- vited him. Before starting, however, the gene- ral, blinded by religious zeal, threatened to do as he had done at Cempoalla, unless the Tlasca-

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150 ee eer ARR AAR AAA PRADA lans gave up their idolatrous worship. But father Olmedo checked him, saying that such a course would bring ruin upon the Spaniards, and not advance the true faith, which could only be propagated by patient teaching and good example. Moved by the arguments of the worthy priest, Cortes wisely left the Tlascalans to do as they pleased in religious matters. Yet, at his request, they readily consented not to offer up any more human sacrifices. Against the advice of his new friends, but complying with that of Montezuma, the general resolved to march to Mexico through Cholula. Though they feared treachery, six thousand Tlascalans willingly bore him company. Cross- ing a high and rocky region, the army reached the broad plain surrounding Cholula, of which, says Cortes, ‘‘ not a hand’s breadth was uncul- tivated.”” The next morning they entered the city, being welcomed, as at Cempoalla and Tlas- cala, by an immense multitude of the inhabit- ants, with music, flowers, and incense. Cholula, where Cortes was thus welcomed, contained some twenty thousand houses, solidly built, along wide, clean, and regular streets. Noted for its manufactures, it was also remarkable for its age and the excellence of its religious character, and therefore was called = THE Holy Place of the Gods.” Here, it was said, Quelzalcoatl, the god of air, the same deity whose return Montezuma apprehended had spent twenty years teaching the inhabitants religion and the various arts for which they were celebrated. In his honor, the -famous “Pyramid of Cholula” had been built. The base of this immense edifice, which is still standing, covered full forty acres of ground, while its top, one hundred and seventy feet high, upon which rose a magnificent temple, eontaining an image of the god, embraced an area of not less than an acre. This, and its numerous other temples, where every year six hundred children were sacrificed, rendered Cho- lula an object of great veneration, and drew there thousands of pilgrims, not only from near cities, but also from the furthest parts of the country. Though welcomed into this city with every appearance of respect and , good-will, Cortes soon began to have suspicions as to the faithful- ness of its inhabitants. These suspicions soon became certainties. A Cholulan lady of rank, having taken a strong liking for Marina, the faithful interpretess of Cortes, begged her not to stay with the Spaniards, for whose destruc- tion, she said, a plot had been formed by the nobles of the city and Montezuma, twenty thou- RAAnnnnnen GODEY’S LADY'S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. PAAR AAA. PPP PAP AAL PAPAIN IMS sand of whose troops were near by, waiting for the fatal and now not far distant hour. This intelligence Marina immediately com- municated to Cortes, who, arresting three of the chief priests of Cholula, found it confirmed by their confession. Alarmed though he was, the general, with his usual promptness, laid a counterplot. The Tlascalans, who, at the re- quest of the Cholulans, had been kept outside the city, were ordered to storm it at a given signal; while, saying that he was about to de- part, Cortes called on the principal men of Cholula to meet him next morning in the great square, formed by the buildings in which his troops were quartered. Scarcely had the Spanish general completed his arrangements, when, early in the day, the Cholulan chiefs, attended by many warriors, marched into the square appointed for the meeting. * Cholulans,” suddenly exclaimed Cortes, who was on horseback, “I have tried to make you my friends; but, with mean faithlessness, under the seeming of friendship, you have plotted to murder me and my people.” For a while, the Cholulans were struck dumb. Recovering, however, “This man is like our gods,” they said; “it is useless to deny any- thing.” And, accordingly, they confessed to the general that what he said was true. Calling some of them aside, Cortes asked why they had resolved upon such treachery. By the advice of Montezuma, they replied, the Mexican am- bassadors had persuaded them to it. The am- bassadors were present; and, with eyes flashing indignantly, Cortes addressed them :— “These wretches,” he exclaimed, “try to throw all blame upon your emperor; but I can- not believe him guilty of such treachery. Be not afraid,” he continued ; “‘ though blood shall flow to-day, it will not be yours. These traitor- ous Cholulans, however, shall perish. Heaven be my witness, it is their perfidy, not the desire of my heart, that arms me to punish them !” ** Cortes having thus spoken,” says Clavigero, whom I condense, “‘and given the signal of attack by firing a musket, the Spaniards fell so furiously upon the miserable Cholulans, that they did not ieave one alive of all who were in the square. The rivulets of blood which streamed about, and the horrible shrieks of the wounded and dying Indians, would have awaken- ed pity in any heart that was not burning for revenge. Having ended the bloody tragedy within the square, the Spaniards rushed out into the streets of the city, sheathing their swords in the bodies of every Cholulan they > +]

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met. Meanwhile, the Tlascalans entered the city like famished lions, their fierceness growing with the blood they shed, and their eagerness to please their new friends. “Though thrown into disorder by so keen and unexpected a stroke, the Cholulans, rally- ing, made a stern resistance, until, at length, feeling the superiority of the Spanish arms, the greater part sought safety in flight from the Others, believing, as tradition had taught them, that, if the foundations.of the great tem- city. ple were torn up, the city would be deluged, tried in this way to ruin their enemies; but, finding that expedient useless, they fled to their houses and to the towers of their temples. This, however, did not help them ; for the Spaniards immediately set fire to every building where they met opposition. Temples and houses were soon in flames; the streets were filled with the bloody or half-burned bodies of slain Indians ; and nothing was heard but the shouts of the victors and the groans of the dying Cholulans, who bitterly complained to their gods who had deserted them in their need. Of the many who fled to the temples, but one surrendered; the rest were either burned to ashes, or threw them- selves from the high towers of the buildings in which they sought safety.” For two days did this horrible massacre con- tinue, during which time no less than six thou- sand Cholulans perished, without the loss of a single Spaniard. Awful must have been the sight, when, the work of slaughter being ended, the Christians and their allies cleansed the city of its dead. The chief ruler of Cholula having been slain in the conflict, Cortes, persuading the remaining noblemen to recall their scattered people, assist- ed at the election of a successor. Convinced that the wrath of the Teutles, or gods, as they called the Spaniards, had spent itself, the in- habitants of the city soon began to return, and, before the Christians left, everything seemed as cheerful and busy as if nothing had happened. Having thus terribly punished the people of Cholula for their intended treachery, Cortes, after remaining in that city fourteen days, once more set out on his march to Mexico. In every town through which he journeyed the chief men welcomed him as one with power to free them from the tyranny by which Montezuma op- pressed them. About noon of their second day’s march, the army entered a pass between two snow-covered mountains—Iztaccihuatl and Popocatepetl. For six miles the road was nar- row and rough, and the men suffered intensely from the winds, which, bearing hail and sleet, LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF FERDINAND CORTES. PPRARAP LAPP LLLP PPP PLP PPP PPP PPP EO 151 ~ ~ eee swept down upon them so fiercely that they could scarcely speak or carry their arms. But their toils and discomforts were soon rewarded. Having struggled through the mountain defile, all at once, as it were, the valley of Mexico beamed upon their sight. “When they first beheld this prospect,” writes Robertson, who wellnigh literally trans- lates the language of Bernal Diaz, a soldier pre- sent, “one of the most striking and beautiful on the face of the earth; when they observed fertile and with golden maize, “stretching further than the eye could reach ; when they saw a large lake, re- cultivated fields,’? covered sembling the sea in extent,” its shores thickly studded with villages and towns, amid which rose the fair city of Mexico, * adorned with its temples and” towers; “the scene so far ex- ceeded their imagination that some believed the fanciful descriptions of romance were realized ;” while “ others could hardly persuade themselves that this wonderful spectacle was anything more than a dream.” “ Different,” says Clavigero, “ very different were the impressions which the Spaniards re- ceived from this scene. Some were gladdened by the sight of the lakes, the delightful plains, the green mountains, and the many and mag- nificent cities. Others brought up again their hopes of making themselves rich by the plunder of so vast a country. But the more thoughtful of the adventurers, on beholding a region so populous, reflected on the daring of hazarding the perils before them, and were so suddenly pdisheartened by their apprehensions, that they would have immediately returned to Villa Rica, had not Cortes, making g use of his persuasions and the reasons suggested by his ever-fruitful genius,” filled their souls with fresh ardor for the great undertaking before them. As for the general himself, he went on, well satisfied with the many signs which he saw of internal dis- affection having so weakened the Mexican em- pire that, whatever its natural strength might be, he would, in the end, be its conqueror, On this, however, he had long since determined. During the night which followed this first view of the valley of Mexico, Cortes had a most narrow escape. Being very watchful, he seldom let pass an evening without going around to see whether or not the men were at their posts. On the night of which I speak, while perform- ing this duty, he walked within a short distance of one of the sentinels, who, unable to distin- guish the general, presented his crossbow. In the twinkling of an eye, Cortes would have been pierced by a well-aimed arrow, when, for-

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152 tunately, not knowing of his danger, however, he sang out, “Ho! the watch!” Recognizing the voice of his general, the sentinel dropped his weapon. ‘“ This,” says Herrera, “was a wwe GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE, warning to him not to come so near the senti- nels for the future, and he ever looked upon it as one of his fortunate adventures.” (To be continued.) MRS. DAFFODIL AT THE CRYSTAL PALACE. BY As I am atrue niece of “ Uncle Sam,” I, of course, visited the Crystal Palace, in New York. Mr. and Mrs. S., and their son George, with your humble servant, started one fine morning from the Irving House to spend the day in the palace. While I was standing admiring Powers’s beauti- ful statues, I felt a touch on my arm, and a too well-known voice cried in my ear, “* Which of them sculps is Prosperous?” I turned and be- held Mrs. Daffodil. A bright blue lawn dress, the gay shawl I have before described, and a straw bonnet trimmed with artificial flowers, formed her attire. Ninny, clad in a white mus- lin, with a scarf of the same, and a simple straw bonnet, stood by her mother. Pete, and a tall man, dressed in uniform, and with a large black moustache, completed the group. “Well, I declare to gracious!’ cried Mrs. Daffodil, when she saw my face, “ if it ain’t the little gal we saw at the theatre. Sakes alive, how you’ve grown! I’m powerful glad to see you. How do you do?” * Quite well, madam,” I replied. “ But I scarcely expected to meet you in New York,” I added, after introducing her to Mr. and Mrs. S. * No, we didn’t ’spect to come; but my bro- ther, the major—this is him, Miss,” said she, pointing out the tall man with a moustache. ** Major Clapperton.” The major bowed. ** Well, as I was saying, the major says he to me, ‘ Sis- ter, if you ’d like to go see that ’ere glass palace, why, just you and Ninny pack up your duds and I’ll stand treat.’ So, Ninny and I, we talked it over, and we concluded tocome. Ain’t > this a big house?” “The whole exhibition is on a very large scale,” I replied. **Can you see ’em from the outside ?” asked she. “See what?” * The scales the house is standing on.”’ ‘* Sister, you are a simpleton !” said the major. “ Ah, well, you know, I s’pose. But come, I want to see the Severe china. Ninny says it’s all covered with picters.” VIRGINIA DE FORREST. ** You have visited the Palace before, I pre- sume, Miss Ninny,” said George S. to her. * “Oh, address me not by that odious cogno- men, sir, I entreat!” sighed the fair Euphro- syne. ‘‘ My Christian appellation is Euphro- syne; but my maternal relative too often does violence to my susceptible feelings by addressing me as Ninny. No, sir, I have never before visited this palace, where Art holds daily festi- val to gratify the enraptured senses of her votaries, who”’ ** Ninny Daffodil, for gracious sake, hold your tongue !” cried her mother. ‘ You must ex- cuse her, sir; but, since she fell in love, she has grown high-flown.” “If we turn into this room, we can see the Gobelin tapestry.” ** Gob’lin tap’stry !”? whispered Mrs. Daffodil, evidently thinking the name delightfully terri- ble. ‘“ Pete, don’t you come; it will frighten you. Where is it, Miss?” said she, after look- ing round the room. I pointed it out. ** Why that’s nothing but a parcel of folks on the grass, and flowers round them,” said she, in a disappointed tone. ‘‘ There ain’t a hob- goblin there. Here, Pete, you may come in. Pete! Pete! I say, Pete! Where on airth is that boy? Pete!’ ** Here I am, ma,” said a voice in the distance, looking at Eve after the fall.” “ Poor thing!’ exclaimed the sympathizing old lady. ‘* Where did she fall from? Is she hurt much? Tell her red ile is good for bruises. Now, you come here.” “Oh, ma!” said Pete, when he at length joined us, “there ’s such a pretty parrot in bronze down there!” “ Parrot in bronze! suffocate.” “You see,” said Mrs. Daffodil to George, after we were once more on our way—* you see, Ninny has acted high-flown, and talked high flown, ever since she fell in love with Joe Smith. She saw him walking with another gai I should think it would

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SYMPATHY. ~~~ PRP PPP PPP PPL IO LL PIAL LILLIE one day, and was going to fling herself out of the third story winder, all for love, I s’pose.” “A curious symptom of jealousy,” said George. ** A simpleton ? pleton. She took her hair all down, put on a white gown, called him a treachery, and then If I hadn’t caught her, she would have been a jelly, sure enough.” A faint sound of music was heard by Mrs. Daffodil, who cried— * Oh, there ’s a peany; let’s go sce it.” * Are you fond of music?” said I to Miss Euphrosyne, when we approached the instru- Of course, she was a sim- made for the winder. ment, which an able performer was testing. “ Passionately! I could live on harmonious sound. As the poet says— ‘If music be the food of love, lay on!’ This piano is in the Louis Quatorze style, the catalogue says.” “What!” cried her mother. “A cat horse! Sakes alive, what a queer critter it must be! My dear departed husband had a roan pony, and my brother, the major, has a white mare ; but I Well, live and l’arn ; though, I must say, I don’t see what never heard of a cat horse. the critter wants of a piany.” “Suppose we go to the refreshment-room,” suggested the major, who had been remarkably silent. A brought us to the door, and there we rested for some time. On coming out, George gave Mrs. Daffodil his arm, while Ninny joined Mr. and Mrs. S. “ Here is a fine Bengal tiger in plaster,” said short walk George, who wished to be agreeable to the old lady. To his utter amazement, she dropped his arm and ran as far as she could, only stopping for want of breath. **My dear madam,” said George, who over- took her first, “‘ are you ill?” ** No,” she gasped, with an expression of pro- found terror; “ but it ain’t safe!” ** What is unsafe ?” “Why, keeping a tiger here in nothing He might break out any I won’t stay here another minute.” It was with great difficulty that we persuaded her to stay, and only effected our object by pro- mising to go into the gallery and remain there the rest of the morning. * Here is a fine bust of Laura,” said Mrs. S., wishing to direct the old lady’s attention an- other way. ‘“ Don’t you admire it?” stronger than plaster. time. 153 * ] won’t look at it! men go upon busts; shameful ! here, too; no wonder they have a revolver there, when the people can’t find anything to No It is bad enough when but a woman it ’s Ninny says there’s a bust of Paris in do, and the whole city goes on a bust. wonder there ’s a revolver.” ** A revolution, ma,” said Pete. * Well, it ’s all the same thing. people carry on now is shameful. Ninny says there ’s a Mahometan lace flounce here, worth five hundred Think of a flounce being bought at that price by a Christ- The way dollars. heathen ian !”” **Miss Euphrosyne, have you visited the opera 2?” asked Mr. S. * Once only.” “Ninny ’s been to the uproar,” said her mo- ther; “‘ but Pete fell down stairs, so I couldn’t go. I guess it’s a terrible noisy place.” “Will you and Miss Euphrosyne give us the ” said Mr. 8S. ‘ We will call for you, if you will give pleasure of your company this evening? us your address.” “Thank you, sir; I’m sure I’m very much obliged to you,” said Mrs. Daffodil, with a courtesy. “You are very kind, sir,” said the major, “and my sister feels obliged to you, though she %9 is not very elegant in her mode of expressing it. I have an engagement which obliges me to leave.” Mrs. Daffodil gave her address, and the party left us. “Why did you ask those people to go to the opera with us?” said Mrs. 8. to her husband. But we must bid you good-morning ; *“* Why, we will have much more entertain- ment from them than from the music, I assure you.” Mrs. Daffodil did go to the opera with us; and, if youll never let her know I told you, I will tell you about her visit. SYMPATHY. BY MRS. MARY FARMER. WHEN earth and heaven seem to blend, We know ’tis only seeming ; For that low line of rosy light That kisses land and sea good-night, As far above us leaneth As yon cerulean zenith. So union doth but seem to be Where hearts beat n@t concordant; His choice arcana each must share With him who the same badge doth wear; While wide the space remaineth That Heav’n’s own law ordaineth.

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SUNDIALS. Tue first sundial mentioned in history is that of Ahaz, who began to reign twelve years before the building of Rome. “ Behold, I will bring again the shadow of the degrees which is gone down in the dial of Ahaz ten degrees backwards” (Isaiah, chap. xxxviii. v. 8). The dial in use amongst the ancient Jews appears to have dif- fered from that in use amongst us. Theirs was a kind of stairs; the time of the day was dis- tinguished not by lines, but by steps or degrees; the shade of the sun every hour moved forward to a new degree. Several of the Grecian astro- nomers and mathematicians constructed dials. Thales is said to have made one; as also Aris- tarchus and Anaximenes. Herodotus informs us that the Greeks borrowed the invention from the Babylonians. The first used at Rome was set up by L. Papirius Cursor, about 300 years before Christ; but this being found to be inaccurate, was subsequently replaced by a Before the use of dials in sundial more correct one. Rome, there was no division of the day into hours; nor does that word occur in the “ T'welve Tables.” They only mention sun-rising and sun-setting, before and after mid-day. Accord- ing to Pliny, mid-day was not added until some years afterwards; an accensus of the consuls being appointed to call out the time when he saw the sun from the senate-house, between the Rostra and the place called Grecostosis, where the ambassadors from Greece and other foreign countries used to stand. In course of time, machines moved by water- power were invented for the measurement of the day. The invention of the first of these water-clocks has been ascribed to Ctesibius of Alexandria, who lived about the year 250 before the Christian era. But some means of measur- ing time by the reflux of water was used at Athens before this period. Water-clocks were introduced at Rome in the year 157 B.C. In these clocks the water issued drop by drop through a hole of the vessel, and fell into an- other, in which a light body that floated marked the height of the wategas it rose. The writer of an able article on “‘ Time Measures,” in the ** Family Friend,” says: “ For a long time, the Roman people had nothing in their houses to 154 { announce the hours when night had thrown ‘Its dusky mantle o’er the earth.’ During the day, they could know the hours after water-clocks had been constructed at the public expense, and placed in open buildings erected in various parts of the city. The case seems to have been the same in Greece, and rich families kept particular servants, whose duty it was to announce to their masters and mistresses certain periods of the day, as pointed by the By and by, water-clocks were Potronius city clepsydre. kept in the palaces of the great. nentions a potentate who had one in his dining- room, and a servant attached near it to proclaim the hours, ‘that his voluptuous master might know how much of his lifetime was spent, for he did not wish to lose one single moment with- out enjoying pleasure.’ ” In the Grecian courts of justice, a practice was observed which might not be without its use in some of our own departments. Lest the speeches of the advocates should weary the patience of the judges, and prevent them from proceeding to other business, they were limited to a certain time, which was measured by an hourglass, used with water; and, that no fraud might be practised, a person was appointed to distribute the water equally to both parties. When the water had run out of the glass, they were to conclude theirspeeches. But whilst the laws quoted by them were read, or if any other important business intervened, the glass was stopped. “ Let him speak until my water be run out,” was said by an orator, who, having ended his speech before the time allowed him was expired, gave to his adversary the remain- ing part of it. In England, the use of bells and clock-towers, sundials, hourglasses, and other measures of time, are of considerable antiquity. A famous clock-tower stood formerly near Westminster Hall ; that at Christ Church, Oxford, St. Alban’s, and several others, still remain; and it is be- coming a fashion to erect them in useful places in modern times. At that pleasant watering- place, Herne Bay, a very good example has been put up at the expense of a lady.

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—— ee —eeeEeEeeeEeEeEeaEaEaEaaEaaEaEeaEeEeEe ee TO EMMA MORTON. BY VIRGINIUS HUTCHEN. THe first and only eve we met, Though lately past, seems long ago; Thine image, in my soul then set, Is sparkling to that spirit yet, Like amethystine gems in snow. “4 And like a cadence of the clime Of famed Arcady’s fabled zone, Thy voice’s full, melodious chime Yet mingles in my fond heart’s rhyme, Though only once I heard its tone, Soft as the zephyr’s vespers, ring That eve, when shone the Venus-star}; I heard it in my Wandering, In concert with the cadent string Of thy lightly-touched guitar. Thy pensive eye—a tiny sun— Though once alone I saw it beam, Shines on me “ when the day is done,” And cares forsake me one by one, And gilds my brightest dream. Thy “ Parian brow” will oft appear As on that eve with thought it shone; As then, ’twill to me seem as clear As ever childhood’s joyous tear, And smoother than the marble-stone. Thy breath seems like the aura-flow }kiom blossoms in completeness, When on the winds those blossoms throw Their riven leaves, like fragrant snow, The very soul of sweetness. And on that lip, so soft and red, ‘he basilisk’s enchantment lies, Which smiles, resistless, overspread, Where kisses have their chosen bed, And music’s sweetest echo dies. I’ve wandered where the afer flings, As poets say, upon the sea, The floral sweets of Aidenn’s springs, Where Beauty lags on languid wings, The prototype, it seems, of shee. Yes—as along some eastern bower, From day-spring till the sun’s decline, The Persian bulbul spends each hour In flitting fleet from flower té flower So roves this wayward muse of mine. But shall my future path, gay maid, With thorns be overgrown ? Oh, canst thou wish my “ wandering” stayed— Or shall the hope by Fancy made By Truth be overthrown? Alas for love! the fear twill steal Through restless brain and thrilling frame, That at a frozed shrine I kneel, And sue a heart that cannot feel True love’s intenerating flame: And that the gems I seek to woo, To aye possess in plighted trust, Might prove—though now so fair to view— Like “‘ diamonds of the morning dew,” And, ere the noontide, melt in dust ! THE WANDERER’S RETURN. 155 How true, that Love in one short hour May reign and rule, then aye depart! For often Woman in her bower Is like the beauteous oto! flower, Which hides a serpent in its heart. What though the asp’s entrancing art May gain, perforce, a bed of bloom? Though one were buried in thy heart, From other joys how soon I'd part, To share the loathsome reptile’s tomb! THE WANDERER’S RETURN. BY JAMES DE MILLE. Tne softly gliding river slowly Rolls onward, as in days of yore; And many a willow bendeth lowly, The glassy waters hanging o’er. There float the lily’s snowy flowers, All gently yielding to the tide, And yonder stand the vine-grown bowers By the sweet river’s gentle tide. In yonder green declining meadow Stands the old homestead, ivy-grown ; The hoary oak, beneath whose shadow My weary limbs I oft have thrown. I see the well, the latticed dairy, The neat white fence, the rustic style; That style—ah, me! It speaks of Mary! Of Magy’s voice, of Mary’s smile! Upon the style I now am sitting, With swelling breast and starting tears, For well-known forms, before me flitting, Speak to my soul of other years; Of childhood’s years, when lightsome hearted, In merry sport I passed the day, Ere from this lowly roof I parted, To roam in folly far away! Ye woodland walks with odors teeming, Ye mossy rocks, ye flowery dells— eaming? Ah, speak! Am I in sadness No—no! Some voice my spirit tells That all is changed, that all is over. No more those pleasing joys I’ll know, Yet memory o’er the spot will hover, Causing the tears e’en now that flow! Black is the moral sky before me; The world to me is reft of charms; Darkly the future rises o’er me ; I hear the tempests’ loud alarms; I see the clouds around me lower, And the deep thunder muttering nigh! The storm must break; I dread its power, Yet vainly for escape I sigh. Vainly—ah, no! This peaceful river Flows by a dear and safe retreat, From which again Ill wander never; Here will I rest my weary feet. Here, where life’s breath to me was given, Far from my soul shall sorrow fly; Here will I make my peace with heave n, And seek a resting-place on high!

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GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. A.LOCK OF HAIR. I HAVE & little lock of hair I ve kept for long, long years— I may not say how oft I ’ve dimmed Its lustre with my tears; Yet hear it lies before me now, All glittering in the light, For slender threads ef burnished gold Are not so fair to sight. I see him now—his loving eyes Are fondly bent on me, As light he clasps those hands of his, And laughs so heartily ; But dust is on that fairy brow, And darkened are those eyes, Where dwelt in stainless purity The splendor of the skies! And laid within Lake Erie deep, His form unconscious sleeps, While mem’ry o’er that sinless dust A sleepless vigil keeps ; Within the windings of his tomb I see the sea-worm glide: Yet care not, if the spirit live, What doth the clay betide! I’ve stood beside the boundless lake That forms his resting-place, And called to mind his winning ways, His beauty and his grace; And glancing upward to the skieg, That glowed in summer sheen, I marked the blue and boundless space That rolled our souls between ! My gentle husband! when I gaze Upon thy brother’s brow, I strive to think how thou wouldst look Wert thou but living now! But oh! the waves of mem’ry rush In darkness o’er my soul, And if I chide the gushing tears, They spurn my weak control ! This shining lock of silken hair To me more lovely seems Than all the gorgeous images That crowd the cloud of dreams! Were every little thread a pulse, That might respond to mine, It could to me no plainer speak— It would no brighter shine. THE WINTER NIGHT. BY COROLEA H. CRISWELL. Stans in heaven’s blue are glowing With a brilliant light; Luna on the earth is throwing Rays serene and bright. White clouds through the sky are moving, Broken here and there; And I see a meteor roving Through the “ ambient air.” PLLA LLLP PEPE POOP PP ALLL PAL PL Coldly now the winds are blowing— Wildly shriek they nowy Trees beside our cottage growing, Creak in every bough. Frosts upon the window gather— Fasten on the pane: Soon, too soon, came wintry weather Back to us again. On the hearth the fire is glowing . Cheerfully and bright, While its flames around are throwing Warmth and dreamy light. *leasantly the hours flit o’er me, As I sit alone Dreaming of the days before me, And of moments gone. While without cold winds are blowing, All is warm within ; And this heart, with peace o’erflowing, Wishes but to win God’s approval—His rare blessing— His protection still ; And, these precious boons possessing, I shall fear no ill. OTHER DAYS. BY ANANIAS W. SAWYER. OTHER days—their guileless pleasures Steal like shadows o’er my mind. Come their memories Whispering melodies, Telling sweet of life’s lost treasures, Golden ruins strewn behind. Memory wakes all recollections, Slumbering voices of the past; And they tell me, Slowly tell me ’ Of my friends, their love and actions, Sleeping now of sleeps the last. Childish forms with radiant faces Glide before and gaze in mine; Smiling sadly, And yet gladiy, Bringing back their withered graces— Bringing back the olden time. Then within me starts a syren, Chanting low of childhood’s years ; Breathing fire Through her lyre, Which soon opes a fount of iron, Setting free its ’prisoned tears, Gathered there for those now sleeping Dreamless slumbers of the dead, In the churchyard, *Neath the greensward, Hearts once sunny, warm, and leaping, Cold and throbless as their bed. Other days—their friends and pleasures Steal like shadows o’er my mind. Come their memories Whispering melodies, Telling sweet of life’s lost treasures, Golden ruins strewn behind.

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ENIGMAS. renner wee LINES TO ~ LADY WHO WILL UNDERSTAND THEM. BY R. JAMES KEELING. Gop bless that loving heart of thine, With untold treasures nestling there Like incense on some holy shrine, Whose fragrant clouds float up in prayer ; That heart of thine, where treasured lie Resolves to holy purpose given, With sweet thoughts soaring upon high Like bird up to its native heaven. Thy voice and smile; that lip of red Might bind a heart than mine less true; But oh! th’ insensate soul were dead That warmed not ’neath thine eye of blue. Oh, could I find on this wide earth One spot from grief’s dark shadow free, Where nought but purest joys have birth, And I might share each joy with thee! How sweet to wander side by side At eve, where clust’ring woodbines twine, And hear the low-voiced river glide To sounds not half so sweet as thine; To watch the full-orbed moon at night Woo like a bride the amorous sea. Thou be the moon, thine eye the light; My soul’s deep tide would swell to thee. No more! I own thy magic power, (And oh, ’twere madness to be free!) Yet must I calmly wait the hour That bears my struggling soul from thee. Oh, lady, would we ne’er had met, Since doomed, alas! so soon to part! E’en mem’ry now is half regret ; And hope—be still my foolish heart. BE NOT IDLE. BY LILLIAN. Be not idle; there is work enough for all, Though they labor hard and long! Nature ever sounds her universal call, To arouse earth’s slumbering throng! For throughout her fields are springing weed and thorn, Which must be uprooted soon, That the good seed, waking to the light of morn, May rejoice the harvest-moon ! Broken hearts there are to bind, and wounds to heal; Lonely orphans to console, And make happy with heart sunshine, till they feel Strengthened to attain life’s goal ; Faint and weary ones there ever are, who need Some kind word and helping hand; Lambs are wandering from the fold, for some to jJead To the shepherd-tended band: Then, oh, be not idle, but awake to life; Make an impress in the world; Fighting for the right in every scene of strife, *Neath heaven’s banner wide unfurled! And for seed thus late and early sown, Thou shalt see the springing grain, Which for thee, when for the heavenly garner grown, Shall a crown of glory gain! voL. L.—14 4 ‘ 5 ‘ > Enigmas ANSWERS TO CHARADE AND ENIGMAS IN JANUARY NUMBER. CHARADE.—Car-pet. 2. A needle. 4. Frank-in-sense. ENIGMAS.—1. A cigar. 3. Human blood. CHARADES. 2. My first doth affliction denote, Which my second was born to endure; My whole is a sure antidote That affliction to soften and cure. 3. My first is a blessing and comfort through life, And smaller, you ’ll own, is my second ; The whole ’s a misfortune admits no relief— None greater I ever heard reckoned. ENIGMAS. 5. A SUBTERRANEAN spirit dark, I prowl about at night, And may veraciously remark, I bring the occult to light. Invisible until I catch The spark Prometheus stole; But then enlightened, I’m a match For each benighted soul. My origin is as obscure As any earthly thing; Yet light the life that I endure, And bright the end I bring. Cities and towns I mostly haunt, In fashion’s circles shine; At balls and operas gayly flaunt— So bright a course is mine. Though churches also I attend, And zealous Christians soothe, With all their aspirations blend, And illustrate the truth! In villages and country roads A stranger e’er am I; I shun such rustic, rude abodes: So now my name supply. 6. Or steady sturdy servants I Am equal to the best; Yet labor hardest when I lie Upon my bed of rest. When once into my bed I go, I’m such a heavy lout, Folks find it difficult, I know, Again to rouse me out. For out of sight must I serve you, A dismal captive chained ; But whilst my servitude is true, My master’s safety ’s gained.

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NOVELTIES FOR FEBRUARY. Fig. 1. Fig. 1.—Lace jacket or spencer, to be worn in evening dress over a low, short-sleeved corsage. The foundation is of Brussels net, with broad vandyked edging in double rows. Knots of satin ribbon to correspond with the color of the dress or ornaments. Fig. 2.—Jacket in something the same style, and intended for the same use, but of the clear- est Swiss muslin. Collar and trimming of needlework. This is particularly suitable for half mourning, with black ribbons and sash, worn over a black or gray silk skirt. It may be worn with any dress, however with bright ribbons. Fig. 2. @iiielia ut Tye th \ile

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CAPS AND BONNETS. 159 ne GSD ots s CD Fig. 3.—The elaborately trimmed night-dress, which we give under this department, is in itself a simple sacque of cambric or fine domestic mus- lin, reaching to the feet. The upper part alone is given. The collar, front, and sleeves are com- posed of alternate rqws of cambric insertion, a plain puff, and scalloped edging. What would at first seem too costly for use, may be made at very little expense by those expert in broderie Anglaise, as what young lady is not at the pre- sent date? We have seen the most elaborate collars and sleeves wrought by school-girls, and others of equal beauty the productions of the leisure moments of busy farm lives. CAPS AND BONNET. Fig. 1.—Dress cap of white Maltese or Honi- ton lace, formed of a single crown piece and border. The last is marked by a band of pink satin ribbon, and turned back at the ear by a full cluster of Augusta and blush roses, with knots of ribbon of corresponding color, pink and primrose ; a bow at the back of the head, and flowing strings of the same. Fig. 2.—Also of Maltese lace, but composed of three ruches on a plain net foundation. These are divided in the centre by alternate bands of bright blue and fawn-colored satin oo @ $ 2 > 5 Q 5 a > annem Py 08 & Sy ee ribbon ; knots of the same, surrounded by the lace, form the front of the cap of either side. Fig. 1. Fig. 3.—For those who prefer the sloping crown to the small plain oval so much the style, we give a very graceful bridal bonnet, composed of pure white blonde over white silk or satin. A half wreath of full blown white roses, in crape, is disposed above the curtain.

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160 GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. Fig. 3. the next row cast on 21 more at the end, and when you come to the end of the next. row do the same. Meantime, after 24 rows done with- out decreasing, you will take in three stitches at each of the white threads, in every other and the same flowers, mingled with buds, foli- age, and sprays of white jasmine, form the wreath inside the brim. Fig. 4. row, until you have decreased, in each place, 27 stitches. To produce the proper effect, take in first at one side, and then at the other, of the white thread, so that a ridge from each side dis- appears alternately. You may then do 60 rows, ’ without increasing or diminishing. It will be ’ necessary to make button-holes at one edge, at the distance of every 30 rows, thus: Knit 6 ; stitches, cast 9 off the left-hand needle, by pass- | ing one over another without knitting them ; then cast on 6 on the right-hand needle, in this way diminishing by three at every button-hole ; at the other edge you will not decrease at all. You now form a gusset for underneath the arms by making a stitch on each side the ridge which runs up from the side of the outer decreasings, nearest to the front: at each you will increase 18 stitches in as many rows, as the alternate ones only have the made stitches: continue to Fig. 4.—Bache of black Brussels lace for even- ing dress. See *‘ Chitchat’? upon fashions. knit in the brioche stitch. SPANISH POLKA. ; In the next row, knit as far as the first 18 stitches. Turn back; cast off the 18, and knit the others backwards and forwards as usual, . ne ood : forming one side of the front, up to the shoulder, uf white Pyreness ditto; a pair of knitting needles with for 36 rows; always continuing to make the heads, No. 8, and another, No. 10. $ ? : nal Poe } button-holes at equal distances, if this is the Wirn the claret wool and finest needles cast { side for them. Now cast off a stitch loosely at on 242 stitches, and knit two plain rows. Now } the end of every row, until one stitch only is tie a bit of white thread at the 36th from each ; left. Draw the wool through. Now continue end, and at the 56th from them. These four the piece for the back, from the gusset; knit pieces of cotton serve to mark the places where across the back to the end of the other 18 stitches, turn; cast them off, and do 36 rows; then cast off a stitch at the end of every row, until 8 ribs are cast off at each edge. Cast off the remainder. Do the other side of the front to correspond with the first. 5 FOR A CHILD OF TWO OR THREE YEARS OLD. ; § 5 Materials.—6 oz. claret 4-thread Berlin wool; 1 oz. you are to decrease by knitting three together in every alternate row, after the 24th. Begin the pattern, which is ordinary brioche stitch, adding three stitches at the end of every row, until there are 36 more at each end; in nee

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DRESS FOR A eee For THe Sitereves.—Cast on 99 stitches, knit 2 plain rows, then the brioche stitch. Gradually decrease two ribs at each edge, and knit about 6 inches. Now cast off 24 stitches at each edge, and knit eight rows before casting off the re- mainder. Tue Cottar.—Cast on 102 stitches, and do the depth of an inch with the claret wool, and cast off. Then with the white wool, and the same needles, take up stitches along the two ends and one side, and knit one row. 2d.—* knit 2, make one by bringing the thread before the needle. * all round. 3d.—Purled. 4th.—* knit 2, make 1, knit 1, make 1, * re- peat to the end. 5th.—Purled. « 6th.—Cast off. This finishes the collar. The deep lace frill, which gives so elegant a finish to this polka, is done with the coarse needles in Pyrenees wool. It is double, and is to be done as follows: Cast on 30 stitches, and knit one plain row. Ist Pattern Row.—Knit 7. * make 1, knit 2 together, knit 6. * repeat till 7 only are left. Make 1, knit 7. 2d.—Purl 5. Purl 2 together, * make 1, purl 1, make 1, purl 2 together, purl 3, purl 2 to- gether. * to the end; purl the last 5. 3d.—Knuit 4, knit 2 together, * make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 to- gether, * to the end, when make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 4. 4th.—Purl 3, purl 2 together; * make 1, purl 5, make 1, purl 3 together, * to the end. These four rows form one pattern, and must be repeated five times, after which do two plain rows, and slip all the stitches on a finer needle. Do another piece with a depth of only two patterns, and two plain rows. Then holding the two pieces of lace together, knit one row with a stitch off each needle, thus uniting the two frills. Do another plain row, and a series of holes, thus: Knit 3, * make 1, slip 1, knit 2 (not together), pass the slip stitch over. * re- peat to the end, when the last 3 are to be knitted plain. 1 purled row; 1 plain ditto. Cast off. To be sewed round the bottom of the jacket. To trim the sleeves, cast on 96 stitches, and work in the same way. When three patterns are done, begin the upper frill, to which do two before joining them. Complete like that for the body, and sew on to the sleeve, closing it up the edge. Now sew up the shoulders, add the collar and sleeves, and plait some white 8-thread fleecy to 14* YOUNG LADY. 161 ——eee eee eee make the trimming down the fronts and round the neck. The buttons are covered also with pieces of white knitting, so that every part washes. Those who are not acquainted with brioche stitch may be glad to learn that it is simply: * bring the thread in front, slip 1 as if purling, knit 2 together, *. The wool of which these polkas are made is the finest Spanish. We have them both in claret and blue, with white lace borders. By using coarser needles, and 8-thread wool, a larger jacket will be produced. DRESS FOR A YOUNG LADY. Dress for a young lady of twelve, com- posed of dark blue poplin, the skirt trimmed by graduated rows of black velvet. A basque or jacket opens on the same, and tied by bows of ribbon. Open sleeves tied and trimmed in the same manner. Chemisette and sleeves of jaconet muslin.

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162 GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. ~~ ~ FLOWERS PPPAL PLL LDL LLLP PPL MADE OF WOOD-SHAVINGS. (Something entirely new.) yo DrrEcTIONsS FOR A Prnk.—Procure some thin deal shavings, and cut each petal on the cross of the shaving; cut 15 of the size marked No. 1, 15 of No. 2, and 10 of No. 3, which are the outside leaves. Tie a very narrow strip of shaving on the loop of the wire stalk, as at No. 4, curling the top of the stamen slightly with the edge of a scissors (the wire drawn ftom ribbon-wire is the best for this purpose) ; tie on the 15 small leaves round the loop of the wire, then 15 of No. 2, and lastly the ten large ones. Bind all firmly on with white thread, cut out the calyx as at No. 5—observe to cut it on the length—and with some &trong gum touch the edges slightly to join it up the side, after it is tied on the wire; then thread a strip of the slightest shaving, and twist it round the wire to the end of the stalk, fastening on the grass like leaves with each twist. A very beautiful vase of flowers can be made in this manner, as all flowers can be imitated in wood-shavings We give this pink as being the most simple to commerce with. ) é ’) é é é 2 Q Q § Q LOUNGING-CAP PURSE. Materials.—Cerise, stone, and light-green silk, each one skein. Cerise cord, and green and red seed beads. Wirn the stone silk make a chain of 8, and close it into a round. 1st round.—Increase to 16. 2d.—Increase to 24. 3d.—Stone and green, * 1 green, 2 stone, * 8 times. 4th.—* 2 stone, 2 green on 1, * 8 times. 5th.—* 2 stone, 3 green on 2, * 8 times. 6th.—* 2 stone, 4 green on 3, * 8 times. 7th.—* 2 stone, 5 green on 4, * 8 times. 8th.—* 3 stone on 2, 5 green, * 8 times. 9th.—* 4 stone on 3, 5 green, * 8 times. 10th.—Like 9th. 11th.—* 1 stone, 2 cerise, 2 green on 5, * 8 times. 12th.—* 2 stone on 1,2 cerise on 2 cerise, 3 stone, 3 green (on 3 centre of 5), 1 stone, * 8 times. 13th.—* 2 cerise on 2 stone on 1, 5 stone, 2 green on 2

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BEAD AND BUGLE WORK. cerise, 2 cerise on 2 stone, 3 stone on 1 stone, 1 green, 1 green on centre of 3, 2 stone, * 8 times. 14th.—* 2 cerise on cerise, 2 green on green, 2 cerise on cerise, 6 stone before the next cerise, * 8 times. 2 cerise, 2 stone on 2 2 cerise on 15th.--* 2 green, 9 stone more, * 8 times. 16th.—* 2 cerise on 2 cerise, and 12 stone be- tween, * 8 times. There being now 112 stitches in the round, do ten rounds of stone silk; then 2 of cerise, then 1 of stone. Borper.—lst round.—* stone, * 16 times. 2d.—* 2 stone, 3 green, 2 3d.-—* 1 stone, 2 stone, * 16 times. 4th.—* 2 green, 5 cerise, * 16 times. 3 stone, 1 green, stone, * 16 times. green, 1 cerise, 2 green, 1 5th.—* 1 green, 5 cerise, 1 green, * 16 times. 6th.—* 5 cerise, 2 green, * 16 times. 7th.—* cerise, * 16 times. Sth.—* 2 cerise, 3 green, 2 cerise, * 16 times. 9th.—Like 7th. 10th.—* 2 green, 5 cerise, * 11th.—* 1 green, 5 cerise, 1 12th.—* 5 13th.—* 1 stone, 2 green, 1 1 cerise, 2 green, 1 cerise, 2 green, 1 16 times. green, * 16 times. 16 times. cerise, 2 green, 1 cerise, 2 green, * stone, * 16 times. 14th.—* 2 stone, 3 green, 2 stone, * 16 times. 15th.—* 3 stone, 1 green, 3 stone, * 16 times. 16th.—All stone. 17th and 18th.—All cerise. Now, with the green silk, do 12 rounds of open square crochet, beginning inside the last | PLP LD APP LPL EPP PPP LPP LLLP PPL PPP 163 stone round. Add a little edge, in green, at the top; run in the cord, and put on the tassel. 2 ee > + — BEAD AND BUGLE WORK. In threading beads, the chief difficulty to surmounted is usually that of making the deli- cate and fragile globules pass over a needle oi sufficient size to carry a thread coarse enough to give anything like firmness and stability to the work. We obviate this by manufacturing our own needles. Annexed is a drawing of a bead- needle. It has an eye sufficiently large to carry o— any thread or silk we may use, and yet so com- pressible that it will pass wherever silk can. The needle is made of very fine silver wire, doubled and twisted. Many persons merely use their fingers to twist the wire, but the needles thus made are neither so firm nor so neat as those which are twisted by means of a hook, a small button-hook, ora bit of brass wire crooked at one end may be used ; the silver wire is then doubled over the hook and firmly twisted almost up to it, and the loop thus made forms the eye. These bead-necdles should be about an inch and a half long. For threading beads many things are used, ; much depends upon the color of the bead, and the for twist, silk, tailor thread, Wher strength is required, the great matter in choos- it is employed. Silk china thread, &e., ate chiefly employed. purpose which fine linen ing a material for stringing beads, especially in patterns, is the evenness of the silk or thread, as an inequality will become more and mor chafed by each bead that passes it, and necessi- tate the unstringing of whatever portion of work has been wrought. Economy in such case is extravagance, both as regards time and mate- rial; the best plan is to go to a good repository for sewing materials, and there select, with care and judgment, the required silk or thread. The purchase of beads or bugles, too, is a matter not to be carelessly done. There are, in various parts of town, shops exclusively devoted to the sale of these matters, and in the city they can be obtained at several places, but only in quantities usually too large for an amateur—at prices far lower, and in quality far bette: Enough beads for the work about to be under- taken should always be purchased at once, as if is seldom they can be accurately matched, eithe: as regards shade, hue, size, or pattern. Pearl especially require to be chosen with great nicety,

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164 for the glassy white make up very poorly, and look very common, whereas the semi-opaque, yellow-white beads often so closely resemble real pearls as almost to deceive connoisseurs. In bugles, too, there is much trickery, espe- cially in the black ones; they must always be purchased with reference to their use, and then an even, smooth, bright-looking bugle chosen— not too fine in the pipe, or it will be difficult to work them. Bugles are sold by the ounce or the pound; about sixpence an ounce is a fair price. Bought in the city by the pound, they are cheaper. GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. eee Beads are bought by the row or the bunch, according to kind or size. It is impossible to set a price on them, so much depends upon color, size, and variety. To work our first pattern, one row of seed pearls, four rows of pearls two sizes larger, a row of oblong pearls and beads for the centre of the ornament, are needed. A piece of card- board, a bit of white silk, a skein of strong white China silk, and a clasp, or about a yard of white satin ribbon, will also be required. Cut out the form of the ornament in card- board, trace on it with a fine pencil the positions of the rows of seed pearls, and also that of the central group of larger ones; with a strong sewing-needle make a series of clear perfora- tions over these pencilled lines, placing the card over a pincushion to do this, in order to avoid bending it. Thread a bead-needle with the China silk, and take up with it beads enough to cover the first or upper row; then, with an ordinary sewing-needle, also threaded with the China silk, hold that row down into its place by stitches at each end and in the centre, passed through the holes perforated in the card-board. Then thread enough for the outer bottom row, and fasten that down in like manner, and then put in the central ornament and do the same by that. The rest is afterwards to be filled in evenly and similarly. The three pendents are formed by passing the bead-needle through an oblong pearl, then through a round pearl of the smallest size but one, and then back again through the oblong pearl; they are attached in their proper place at the bottom of the ornament by means of the sewing-needle. Now take two double needlé¢fuls of China silk, each about three-quarters of a yard in length, and threaded in bead-needles, and attach them to one end of the ornament; take the second sized pearls, thread one on the right hand strand, pass the left one through it in the opposite direction, and draw the bead up close to the ornament; thread two beads on the right and one on the left strand, and pass the left strand through the second bead of the right one, and draw the pattern up. A diamond will be formed. Proceed, always placing two beads on the right strand and one on the left, and cross- ing the left one through the second on the right, until diamonds enough are worked to form a chain that will go half way round the head or throat, or whatever it may be intended for; then join on two fresh needlefuls of silk to the opposite side of the ornament, and work the other half in a similar manner. Fasten off firmly, and, threading the ends in a sewing- needle, attach them to the clasp, or sew them on to the satin ribbon. Now neatly gum a piece of white silk or velvet the shape of the ornament over the back cf it, to hide the stitches, and all is complete. The central ornament may be a crescent, a Maltese or Greek cross, a leaf, or group of leaves—in short, anything fancy or taste may suggest. We shall hereafter give other rules and pat- terns for threading pearls for the neck, but the above is simple, inexpensive, and within the capacity of every person. The next pattern is a bracelet now much in vogue ; it is chiefly worked in seed-pearls, seed- coral, cut garnet, black cut-glass, and blue or turquoise beads. It is very simple and easy of execution, though somewhat tedious. The color of the beads must determine what color we thread on; china silk or fine silk twist are the best materials to be used. We only re- quire the beads, the silk to match them, about

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GERMAN BRAID COMFORTER, PPP PPP EP APAA PPP ID AA LALA ALAA ALAAAAAAAASAAAS four pieces of round elastic twisted together and sewn into a bit of silk velvet, so as to form a small cord, long enough to go round the arm, and the clasp or snap. y % f It is worked as follows: Thread two bead- needles with about half a yard needlefuls of silk, tie the ends together, leaving an inch or two, pin them to a pincushion, and work a length of the diamond pattern (we have already given) sufficient for the bracelet. Leave the ends, needles and all. Take two more needles similarly threaded, pin them on close to the others, pass one bead on to the right hand silk and cross the ieft one through it. Thread two beads on the right silk, and pass the needle of the left silk through the side bead of the first diamond of the row already completed, and then through the second bead on the right silk, and draw the pattern up. This is a repetition of the diamond pattern; but, to form the left side of each the needle must pass through the right-hand side bead in that square of the first square, formed row parallel with it. Work down a similar length, and leave the ends and needles, and then recommence with a fresh couple of needles as before. From four to six rows, according to the size of the beads, will usually require to be woven. When all is complete, thread two bead-needles with silk as before, tie the ends together at the upper extremity by passing these silks round them, and sew the web of beads together over the velvet cord thus: Pin it to the pincushion, thread a bead one silk, cross the other through it, draw it up; bring the right-hand needle through a side bead of the first diamond on the right side, and the left hand needle through a similar bead on the left hand side of the web; thread another bead on one silk to complete the diamond, and work the opposite silk through it. There is still the same pattern ; but we use for both sides the sides of diamonds already made, in order to form our new and on ———eeeeeeeoeoaoe 165 uniting rows, and only add fresh beads for the top and bottom. If, when joined together, the length is found to be sufficient, cut off all th« needles, tie the ends together firmly, and the. sew them into the clasp. If it is not enough to cover the cord, add the requisite dia- monds to one row after another, and then finish off. . In working, take the beads as evenly as pos- sible, and do not let now a long one and now a short one mar the symmetry of the web. Draw the work up evenly, but not so as to strain upon the silks, or they will snap and destroy the whole. If wished, tassels can be attached to the clasp, for the making of which we shall give direc- tions in another place; or a snake’s head and tail may be added by the jeweller, which has perhaps a prettier effect, but costs more, and prevents the article from being entirely home- . long made. GERMAN PLAID COMFORTER Materials.—2 oz. of black and white pearl wool; 1 oz of black 6-thread fleecy ; 1 oz. of red ditto. A pair of large wooden knitting-needles, and a coarse bone ¢cro- chet-hook. Tue pearl wool, which is the chief material for this most comfortable aufour-cou, is a recent invention, and, for some purposes, extremely

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166 PPP LPP LP LLL LIPID III IIIA IIS pretty. The wool is dyed alternately in two colors, half an inch, or rather more, of each ap- pearing alternately. That in blue and white is extremely pretty; so is the black and white; and, for imitating Scotch plaids, the black and gray form an admirable mixture. Nothing can be simpler than this scarf. With the black wool east on 21 stitches, and * do two rows of com- mon knitting. Join on the pearl wool, with a weaver’s knot, and do four more rows. Join on the red, and do four, then with the pearl wool do four more, after which two black, then twelve with the pearl wool, and then repeat from the *. Do any length required in this way. About one and a quarter yard will be ample. By knotting the new wools on, with a weaver’s knot, you will be enabled to cut off the ends quite closely. : | | GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. nnn em The stripes across the scarf being thus formed, do those in the opposite direction with the coarse crochet-hook, alternately in red and black. Itis done in tambour stitch. Hold the knitting stretched, and with the right side up- permost; and in the centre of the second stitch from the edge do two tambour stitches, each over a thread of wool. Then a reverse stitch, like a chain in crochet, on the wool only. Then two more across the threads, and soon. One stripe must be done close to each edge, and two others at equal distances from them. Observe that the ends of the scarf must cor- respond, so that you will cast off, not at the end of the pattern, but after the second black stripe, and before the twelve rows of pearl wool. Add a deep fringe, of all the colors combined, and cut off the ends. GROUND-PLAN OF THE VILLA. (See Plate on page 103.) 90 90 1 is 1. Colonnade. 2. Drawing-Room. 3. Dining-Room. 4. Porch. 6. Wash-house. 5. Hall. 7. Kitchen.

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INITIALS. TRAVELLING-BAG. (See Blue Plate in front of Book.) Materials.—Coarse French canvas of any size that the bag may be desired. Two or three ounces of rich brown Berlin wool, and either straw beading or orange silk braid. Tue pattern is to be enlarged according to the directions already given ; and the drawing, being inked, should be laid under the canvas, which must then be marked as clearly as possible. A camel’s-hair brush, dipped in ink, is better for this purpose than a pen, which is very apt to sputter. The border need not be marked, as it can be worked by the thread. The whole may be done in cross stitch. The top and bottom of the border are to be done as follows :— Ist row.—Do about 4 cross stitches for the end, then * miss 3 cross stitches, work two *; repeat, end by missing three and working four. 2d.—Work 4, * miss 1, work 1, miss 5 *; repeat, end with, miss 1, work 4. 3d.—Like the first. The sides must be made to correspond. I have advised straw or silk braid to be used, in preference to gold, for this bag, as being much more durable. Neither material requires to be cut in lengths, and it is not necessary to run on the straw. It is merely to be held in its place, and worked over. At the end of the row, turn the straw round, and work the next row in the opposite direction. All the veinings of the leaves are to be done in wool, as are also the centres of the flowers. The sides of the bag should be piped with stout piping-cord, covered with silk ; and hand- some tassels and cords should be used for the garniture. SOFA CUSHION, (See Blue Plate in front of Book.) Materials.—A square of canvas, 30 inches each way without turnings in; 3 doz. yards of beaded straw, half oz. black, 1 oz. of rich scarlet Berlin wool, and 1 oz. of green ditto. Scarlet and green cord, and four handsome tassels to correspond. ENLARGE the pattern according to the pre- vious instructions, and mark the canvas with it. It will be best to draw only one quarter, and use it for all, as by this means a greater degree of regularity is obtained. This straw is to be held on, and worked over, the design being 167 —— § in straw, the dark part of the ground in scarlet, the light in green, and the four white lines which form the outline in black. The broad white lines which divide the sections of the de- sign’ are also to be worked in black. The needleful, after being used for the few stitches required, should be left to work those in the same part of the next row. To MAKE UP THE Cusnion.—Cut two squares of calico exactly bias, 30 inches square, and tack some fine soft wadding on one side of each. Join these two pieces for the pillow, with the wadding inside, and fill it with feathers or down. Close it up. This pillow will be found not to sink or get out of shape, as most do that are made in the ordinary way. It is then to be covered with the canvas, and the back should have green velvet or satin. Finish with cord and tassels. Drawn on a smaller scale, this design is well adapted for a lamp-mat. LADY’S RETICULE.—CROCHET. (See Plate on page 104.) Meterials.—Fourteen yards cerise satin cord, two and a half yards satin ribbon, three-quarters of an inch wide, to match, yard sarsnet, a small piece of card- board, and three skeins of coarse black crochet silk; also two yards of fine cord, gold, cerise, and black. Wiru the crochet silk work on the end of the satin cord thus: * 1 sc over the cord, 1 ch, *; repeat until half a yard is done, then close it into a round, and work on it, holding the satin cord in, * 1 sc on sc, 1 ch, * all round, until the whole of the cord is used; then cover a bit of card-board three inches wide, and long enough to fit the bag, with sarsnet on both sides; and put a piece of silk at the top, with runnings for strings. The silk, as well as the lower part of the bag, should be lined, and a quilling of rib- bon put at the top and bottom of the crochet- work, to finish it. Box-plaiting is the best way of doing this ribbon, and the fancy cord is run in the centre, to hide the stitches. INITIALS. g fs 2 Pi

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168 FASHIONS OF SHOES. Furnished by E. A. Brooks, 575 Broadway and 150 Fulton Street, New York. LADIES’ SLIPPERS. Ix continuing our attention to the vanous novelties and beautiful varieties of shoes which we find in the emporium of Mr. Brooks, we in the first place, a pair of boudoir or iress slippers, which, if we were able to present select, é GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. in the rich colors and metallic lustre of the vel- vet and chenille of the originals, we fear would almost tempt some of our friends to infringe upon the tenth commandment. These slippers are made of various colored velvets—maroon being that of the pair from which our illustra- tion is made—with delicately quilted linings of primrose taffeta; a quilling of satin ribbon trims the tops; the quarters are exquisitely em- broidered with natural tinted flowers, wrought with chenille. MISSES’ BOOTS. The second illustration is of a beautiful style of quilted boots for girls; however, we need not confine them to any age, as their beauty, com- fort, and adaptability are equally great for ladies as for children. The lower portion is of lustrous patent leather, the upper of quilted taffeta, bordered with velvet of the same hue as the silk. They are confined by three bows of ribbon. We observe some very similar in style bor- dered with ermine instead of velvet, which gives them a peculiarly tempting air. We, however, select the above as combining, with other advantages, the great one of being adapted to the wear and tear of everyday use. We strongly recommend this style to the attention of our fair friends as pre-eminently serviceable.

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Nabesonaneen eens petri ~" Oe a envannrvocnscenne sar inannet MOSATC TAPESTRY TRAVELLING-BAG. MOSAIC TAPESTRY SOFA-CUSIIION,

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Receipts, Xe. HOUSEHOLD RECEIPTS. A correspondent sends us the following :— To MAKE Icin@ For CAKES.—Take of the best white sugar one pound, and pour over it just enough cold water to dissolve the lumps; then take the whites of three eggs, and beat them a little, but not to a stiff froth; add these to the sugar and water; put it in a deep bowl, place the bow] in a vessel of boiling water, and beat the mixture. It will first become thin and clear, and after- wards begin to thicken. When it becomes quite thick, remove it from the fire, and continue the beating until it becomes cold and thick enough; then spread it on with a knife. It is perfectly white, glistens beautifully, and is so hard and smooth when dry, that you may write very well on it with a pencil. To CLEAN RispBoNs.—A correspondent states that camphene will take the grease out of the most soiled ribbons, and clean them, and make them equal to new. Lay the soiled ribbon, or piece of silk, in a plate, and cover it with the camphene, and then lay it, after rub- bing it a little with a piece of flannel, in a clean cloth to dry it somewhat, and then iron it on the wrong side; then put the ribbon outside in the air. To Wasu SILxks, Rippon, &.—Another obliging cor- respondent gives the following: Three-quarters of a pound of honey, half a pound of soft soap, and a pint of whiskey. Put the whiskey and soap on a hot hearth till quite meited; then add the honey, and bottle it. Stretch the silk on a clean board, and brush it well every way with the stuff; have ready three vessels of cold water, into each of which dip the silk several times, then hang it up to drain, and iron it while quile wet with hot irons; avoid squeezing or wringing. To CLEAN GiLtT FrRAMeEsS.—Take one drachm (about as much as will lay on a shilling) of soft soap, and mix it gradually with half a pint of soft water (that is, rain water, or water that has boiled and been allowed to get cold); put the mixture into a bottle, and shake them well together; then add half a wineglassful of spirit of hartshorn, and again well shake the ingredients. The gilt frame that is to be cleansed may now be brushed over with this liquid, taking care, however, to use for the purpose the very softest camel’s-hair brush that can be procured. After the liquid has been on the frame a minute or so, using a slight brushing to the dirtiest and most intricate parts of the work, it is to be freely washed off with plenty of clean soft water, and allowed to dry of its own accord. The drying should be accele- rated by placing the frame in a draught, or where the sun shines on it. Next day the bright parts of the work may be very slightly rubbed with a new wash-leather, which will enhance their brilliancy. Pictures and glasses should be taken out of the frame during the cleansing process. xX To Make Beer TenpeR.—Those who have worn down their teeth in masticating poor old tough cow beef, will be glad to learn that common carbonate of soda will be found a remedy for the evil. Cut your steaks, the day before using, into slices about two inches thick, rub over a small quantity of soda, wash off next morning, cut into suitable thichness, and cook to notion. The same process will answer with fowls, legs of mutton, &e. Try it, all who love delicious, tender dishes of meat. von. L.—15 ; ; 3 ; ; é ; 2 | | 5 RECEIPTS. 169 To PRESERVE Booxs.—A few drops of any perfumed oil will secure libraries from the consuming effects of mould and damp. Russian leather, which is perfumed with the tar of the birch-tree, never moulders; and merchants suffer large bales of this leather to remain in the London Docks, knowing that it cannot sustain any injury from damp. This manner of preberving books with perfumed oil was known to the ancients. The Romans used oil of cedar to preserve valuable manu- scripts. Hence the expression used by Horace, “‘«igna cedro,”? meaning any work worthy of being anointed with cedar-oil, or, in other words, of being preserved and remembered NATURE PrRinTING.—The following is a method of obtaining the figure of a plant: A piece of paper is to be rubbed over with powdered dragon’s blood, and then the small branch or leaf of which the design is required is to be laid upon it. By means of slight friction, it soon takes up a small quantity of the powder; and being then laid upon moistened paper, an impression may be taken. To CLEAN BLAcK LAcE.—Pass the lace through a warm liquor of bullocks’ gall and water; afterwards rinse in cold water; then take a small piece of glue, pour boiling water on it, and again pass the lace through it; clap it with your hands, and then frame it to dry. To CLEAN Briack SiLKs.—To bullocks’ gall, add boiling water sufficient to make it warm, and with a clean sponge rub the silk well on both sides; squeeze it well out, and proceed in like manner. Rinse it in spring water, and change the water until perfectly clean. Dry it in the air, and pin it out on a table; but first dip the sponge in glue-water, and rub it on the wrong side; then dry before a fire. House ANTs.—The best way to get rid of ants is te set a quantity of cracked walnuts or shkell-barka on plates, and put them in the closets and places where the ants congregate. They are very fond of these, and will collect on them in myriads. When they have col- lected on them make a genera) euto-da-fe, by turning nuts and ants together into the fire, and then replen- ishing the plates with fresh nuts. After they have become so thinned off as to cease collecting on plates, powder some camphor, and put in the holes and ecre- vices, whereupon the remainder of them will speedily vamose. It may help the process of getting them to assemble on the shell-barks, to remove all edibles out of their way for the time. —_— A FEW WORDS ON SOUPS. “THe researches of Liebig offer a simple and conve- nient method of preparing, in a few minutes, a broth of the highest nutritive properties. Finely chopped lean beef is mixed with an equal weight of cold water, and left, if possible, to macerate for a short time, and the whole then slowly heated to ebullition; after gently boiling for some minutes, the clear broth separates from the coagulated albumen and from the muscular fibre, which has now assumed a sinewy appearance. After straining, it requires only to be seasoned, and slightly colored with burnt onions, or with caramel (burnt sugar). The coloring of broth is nothing but a cences- sion to the common prejudice, which cannot, however, be well dispensed with. “ By evaporation in a water-bath, or at a still lower temperature, the broth becomes spontaneously calared, and leaves behind a brown extract, peaseasing a deli-

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170 SAAARARAL AAAS eate odor of roasted meat; it may be preserved for any length of time. This extract, when dissolved in about thirty parts of water, and flavored with salt, yields, at any moment, a most excellent broth. The advantage of extract of flesh for the nutrition of invalids, its use in hospitals, or in field service, as well as in domestic economy, is sufficiently obvious. We see, likewise, that bone broth, broth tablets, &c., being preparations entirely different from a true broth from flesh, cannot compete with it as articles of food.” The delicate and proper blending of savors is the chief art of good soup-making. Be sure to skim the grease off the soup when it jirst boils, or it will not be- come clear. Throw in a little salt to bring up the scum. Remove alJ the fat. Be careful to simmer softly, and never allow a soup to boil hard. Put your meat into cold water, and let it grow warm slowly. This dissolves the gelatine, allows the albumen to disengage, the scum to rise, and the heat to penetrate to the centre of the meat. But, if the meat be put into hot water, or the soup over a hot jire to boil, the albumen coagulates, and the external surface of the meat is hardened; the water is prevented from penetrating to the interior, and the nutritious part of the meat from disengaging itself. The broth will be without flavor, and the meat tough, if so managed. Allow two table- spoonsful of salt to four quarts of soup, Where there are many vegetables; and one and one-half, where there are few. One quart of water to one pound of meat is a good rule. Soup made of meat not previously cooked is as good, perhaps better, on the second day, if heated to the boil- ing point. If more water is needed, use boiling water, as cold or lukewarm spoils the soup. Some persons have thought potato-water to be unhealthy; do not, therefore, boil potatoes in your soup, but, if required, boil them elsewhere, and add them when nearly cooked. The water in which poultry or fresh meat is boiled should be saved for gravies or soups for the next day. If it is not needed in your own family, give it to the poor. The bones, also, of roasts, with a little meat, make a soup; and, if not required for this purpose, you may save them for the grease they contain. But this preparation, be it remembered, is entirely different, in its essential properties, from soup made from flesh; and it should never be given to an invalid or convalescent as an invigorating or nutritive repast. In boiling out the bones in water, not only the fat present in all bones, but also the gelatine (which is tasteless, and can impart neither flavor nor any nutritive property to the soup), is extracted. It follows, therefvre, that the fat is the only matter obtained for the soup, the flavor of which must depend entirely on the vegetables and spices that may be added. As fat is both difficult and slow of digestion, would it not be quite as well to keep the grease for soap, and use the vegetables without it? Keep the vessel covered tight in which you boil soup, that the flavor may not be lost. Never put away soup in metal pots. It is much better to boil your soup the day before wanted, and allow the liquid to cool, that the fat may be all removed. Thickened soups require more seasoning than thin soups; nearly twice the quantity is necessary. In France, few dinners are served without soup; and the pot-au-feu (soup-kettle) is a necessary utensil in the kitchens of both rich and poor. It might be termed the national dish, so constantly is it used by all cl GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. ——e—eeeeeeeees set dinner. The substantial, thick soups might, with vegetables, form a dinner satisfactory to any laboring man. Clear soups should not be strong of the meat flavor and should be of a light-brown, sherry, or straw-color. All white or brown thick soups should be rather thin, with just sufficient consistency to adhere lightly to a spoon when hot; such as soups of fish, poultry, or game, Simple brown soups, no matter whether of meat or vegetables, require to be somewhat thicker. If good housekeepers could bring themselves to give up the old notion of boiling for five and six hours, to obtain ‘‘ the extract”’ of meat, and follow the advice of chemists, they would be able to serve up a nice soup in a short time, and with comparatively little labor. At the commencement of the French Revolution, public attention was directed to the improvement and manage- ment of food for the poor and the army. The scientific men of France were called upon for an opinion; and the government, led away by enthusiastic reports, were induced to send forth such language as the following: * A bone is a tablet of soup formed by nature; a pound of bones gives as much soup as six pounds of meat; bone soup, in a dietetical point of view, is preferable to meat soup.’”’ It would seem that even cookery, at that time, was looked at through the same exaggerated medium as political matters. These expressions were soon found to be the grossest exaggerations, and the apparatus which was put up to convert the bones into soup was soon found to be useless, and totally abandoned. The medical officers of the Hotel Dieu drew up a report, which declared such soup to be of bad quality, and indigestible. Therefore, we may conclude soup made from bones of meat and poultry, to be no- thing more than the stone soup of old, which, with plenty of vegetables and seasoning, made quite a delicious repast. SICK-ROOM AND NURSERY. LIME IN THE Eve.—Occasionally in slaking lime, one of the small pieces which fly off will get into the eye, and stick upon the front of the eyeball. It immediately produces violent pain; and if it has fixed on the trans- parent part of the eyeball, a little milky spot quickly appears, and very soon spreads, rendering all that part of the eye white and opaque, so that the person is par- tially blinded. A smart discharge of tears begins im- mediately after the lime has got in, and continues. The eyelids quickly swell and become closed, and very severe pain follows. If but a short time pass without anything suitable being done, the person runs great risk of certain blindness, either from the transparency of the eye being destroyed, or from the front of the eye being killed by the burn; and when the dead part separates, the blank part of the eye falls out, and the eyeball shrivels almost to nothing. These dreadful consequences may be prevented by at once bathing the eye with a little weak vinegar and water, which must be applied to the eyeball itself be- tween the eyelids, and any little piece of lime carefully removed with the web of a feather; Whatever lime may have become entangled with the eyelashes must be carefully cleared away with a bit of soft linen, soaked in the vinegar and water. Under the most favorable circumstances, violent inflammation of the eye follows this accident, and it will be necessary to obtain dical assistance where it can be had. If, however, The white, thin soups are intended only to commence a nnn nnn that oannot be obtained, leeches must be applied, and

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PARLOR AMUSEMENTS. DPDPEPALRAARASS bathings with warm poppy water or simple warm water. A smart purge must also be given. For A PAIN IN THE EAr.—Oil of sweet almonds two drachms, with oil of amber four drops; apply feur drops of this mixture when in pain to the part affected. Cure For BURNS AND ScALpDs.—Take half a pound of powdered alum, dissolve it in a quart of water; bathe the burn or scald with a linen rag wetted with this mix- ture, then bind the wet rag on it with a strip of linen, and moisten the bandage with the alum-water fre- quently, without removing it, during two or three days. To Stop THE FLOw OF BLOOD FROM LEECH BITEs. —Take a small piece of caoutchouc, and meit by the heat of a candle; when cool equalize it, by rubbing it gently with a piece of thin paper. Apply it on the spot where the leech had fixed itself, having previously wiped the part perfectly dry; and finally keep it motionless, by means of a band or a bit of sticking-plaster. Do not remeve the dressing before twelve or twenty-four hours. This method is particularly useful in the case of chil- dren, their blood being often very difficult to stop. How To DIsINFECT THE AIR IN APARTMENTS.— Chlorine is the most effectual gas for the purpose of disinfecting the air in apartments. To produce chlorine for the purpose of fumigation or disinfecting, put ten ounces of common salt well dried, two ounces of pow- dered black oxide of manganese, into an earthen pan, together with six ounces of strong sulphuric acid, diluted with four ounces of water. The earthenware vessel should be placed in hot sand. This will be sufficient for a room forty feet by twenty. It is found that chlo- rine will combine with pure lime and pure soda, making chloride of lime and chloride of soda, but that the affinity of chlorine for these substances is very weak. Chloride of lime and chloride of soda are the substances now used, as the most convenient and the most effectual preparations for the purpose of disinfecting. In cases where infectious diseases are so near that danger is apprehended, chloride of lime or of soda is the best known preventive; and it is so safe that it may be used wherever there are sick patients, except in the com- mencement of fever, when it would be hurtful for them to remain in the room with the gas. THE TOILET. PARISIAN DENTIFRICE.—Take four ounces each of powdered Florentine iris and Peruvian bark, twelve ounces of prepared chalk (whiting), one ounce of myrrh, one and a half ounces of rose pink, and sixteen drops each of the oils of cloves and cinnamon. ScENTsS FOR PoMATUM.—1. Oil of lavender fourteen ounces, oil of cloves one ounce, oil of marjoram two ounces, gum benzoin twenty ounces. 2. Essence of bergamot and essence of lemon, of each twelve ounces, oil of cloves and oil of marjoram, of each three ounces, gum benzoin twenty ounces. 3. Essence of bergamot one pound, essence of lemon eight ounces, oil of marjoram and oil of cloves, of each two ounces, oil of orange one and a half ounce. 4. Cowslip Scent.—Essence of bergamot one pound, essence of lemon half a pound, oil of cloves four ounces. 5. Jonquil Scent.—Essence of bergamot and essence of lemons, of each half a pound, oil of cloves two ounces, oil of sassafras and oil of orange, of each one ounce. 6. Mille-fleurs Scent.—Essence of lemons three ounces, essence of ambergris four ounces, oil of cloves and oil of lavender, of each two ounces. ——~ 171 Parlor Amusements, Tue Maaeic BotTLe.—rhis trick, if well managed, is one of the most wonderful that can be performed in a drawing-room without apparatus; but it requires dex- terity at the conclusion. The person performing the trick offers to pour from a common wine bottle, port wine, sherry, milk, and cham- pagne in succession, and in any order. To accomplish the trick, you must make solutions of the following chemicals, and label the bottles with numbers, thus :— 1. A saturated solution of the sulphocyanate of potash. 2. A diluted solution of the above; one part of the solution to four of water. 3. A saturated solution of nitrate of lead. 4. A saturated solution of perchloride of iron. 6. A saturated solution of bicarbonate of potash. 6. Sulphuric acid. # 7. A clear solution of gum Arabic.” Procure a champagne bottle, and wash it out well; then pour three teaspoonfuls of No. 4 into it. As the quantity is very small, it will not be observed, especially if you are quick in your movements. Pour some dis- tilled or rain-water into a common water bottle or jug, and add a teaspoonful of No. 7 to it; then set it aside ready for use. . Provide some wineglasses of four different patterns, and into one pattern pour the solution marked No. 1, into another that marked No. 2, and so on for Nos. 3 and 5. Return the solutions to their respective bottles, and arrange the glasses on a small tray, remembering the solutions that were poured into each pattern. Everything being ready, take the champagne bottle that you have prepared, from two or three others, and holding it up to show the company that it is clear and empty; you must desire some person to hand you the water bottle or jug, and then fill up the bottle with the water. Pour some of the contents of the bottle into an unpre- pared glass, in order to show that it is water; then say, “ change to champagne,”’ and pour the liquid from the bottle into one of the glasses rinsed with No. 5; then pour into a glass rinsed with No. 1, and it will change to port-wine; but if poured into No. 3, it will change to milk, and if into No. 2, it will produce sherry. Be care- ful, in pouring the fluid from the bottle, not to hold it high above the glasses, but to keep the mouth of it close to the edges of the glasses, otherwise persons will observe that it undergoes change of color after it .8 poured into the wineglasses, and on this account the glasses should be held rather high. As the solutions used in the above trick are deleteri- ous, they must not be left about in the way of children, and, of course, the fluid in the wineglasses must not even be tasted; but if any of the company wish to drink the wines you have made, then the tray must be adroitly exchanged for another with the proper wines placed on it. This is an excellent parlor trick, if well managed, and is not difficult to comprehend. To MAKE FLAXSEED OR Rice SprRoUT.—Take a cup and fill it half full of water; then place on the top of the water a little raw cotton, which has been wet through; then sprinkle flaxseed, or rice with the husk on, over this cotton, and in five days it will sprout. This is a very pretty little experiment for children.

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EDITORS’ We have lately received a very interesting letter from & young lady whose home is in the country, and who enjoys the uninterrupted leisure a country life offers to people in easy circumstances. She has an earnest desire to save the precious hours of youth from running idly to waste; she is anxious to improve her understanding, and make some preparation for the evening of life. So commendable a disposition we are happy to encourage ; and, as we hope “ Nellie’s”’ wish for advice on this point may concur with that of other young ladies, in replying to her communication, we would address ourselves to our juvenile readers in general. “What is the use of reading?” said Louis XIV. to the Duke de Montemar, the handsomest and wittiest of his courtiers. “It has the same effect upon the mind, sire, that your dainties have upon my cheeks.’? The duke was remarkable for a fine complexion. Sir John Herschel says: “If I were to pray for a taste which should stand me under every variety of circum- stance, and be a source of happiness and cheerfulness to me through life, and a shield against its ills, however things should go against me and the world frown upon me, it would be a taste for reading.” This taste for literature, this habit of cultivating the mind should be formed in early life. The mental soil becomes so overgrown with weeds, if these are allowed to take root in the spring, that late in the summer neither flowers nor fruits have room to expand :— A youth of folly, an old age of cards.” The young girl whose immortal faculties are all frit- tered away upon flounces and opera music will grow into a vapid, silly old woman, shunned by the selfish, tolerated by the generous, and incapable of inspiring any higher sentiment than the compassion nearly allied to contempt. A butterfly belle may, at sixteen, attract “the white-gloved beaux ;” but, alas! for a butterfly of sixty! Instances of such, and deplorable ones, too, we have seen; there are few more humiliating spectacles for our sex. Skill in the fine arts is delightful, a source of unfailing pleasure to its possessor and her circle of friends; but it is only in rare instances that nature gives talent for art worth the years of time and the very large amount of money necessary before the woman can attain an excellence that rewards her and her family for their sacrifices. The cultivation of elegant literature is in the power of every one who has leisure; and what young lady has not time on her hands? It is the cheap- est, the easiest of accomplishments. Is it the least valuable? Which is the more desirable friend or com- panion? Which is capable of giving more entertainment at home or abroad, by the fireside er in the largest assembly? the woman who can warble half a dozen cavatinas as well as a tenth-rate opera-singer, or she whose well-stored, well-balanced mind is filled with the bright ideas of the best writers of every age; whose ample fund of knowledge is ready on every occasion ; whose wit, not erratic or sarcastic, but properly curbed and tempered with kindness, gives brilliancy to old thoughts; and whose well-cultured judgment is able to TABLE. years at most; we can converse all our lives, unless our intellects have been weakened by years of habitual repression and factitious torpor. The knowledge acquired at school is generally but a preparation for after gain. Nellie asks us how to pro- ceed. We would recommend, in the first place, regu- larity. The careless can scarcely form any notion of what may be done by an orderly regulation oftime. The young lady who desires to improve must determine upon the time for her reading ; this, of course, must be regu- lated in its length by her circumstances and duties. Not knowing the actual state of Nellie’s improvement, it is difficult to mention the books she may require; but supposing her to be like other young ladies who have just left school, we imagine she has studied epitomes, if not histories, and would counsel her now to undertake some work of more extent than schools usually have time for. “ Rollin’s Ancient History,” which gives a very clear, condensed account of the earliest races of mankind, and a good knowledge of Grecian history, may be read with much advantage. When she comes to the affairs of Greece, she had better read “ Plutarch” —each “ Life’ as she meets the hero in “ Rollin; and while she is upon Athenian affairs, “ Bloomfield’s Thucydides” will be very interesting and useful. We urge her to read these Greek writers (the translations of whose works are satisfactory), not that they will give her much more of information than she will find in “ Rollin,” but because she will form a much better idea of what the old Greeks were, and what was their turn of mind, from reading one or two of their own authors, than from all the accounts given at second hand by the moderns, can convey. She must also, while going on with these works, get good translations of the Greek poets, or at least the works of some of them. Pope’s Iliad and Odyssey, one or two of the tragedies of Eschylus, of Sophocles, and of Euripides; and standard works of criticism on other subjects that may be within her reach, should be resorted to, as taste demands cultiva- tion as much as any other faculty. By all means let her write a weekly summary of all she has read; and that this may be done with advantage, she should, as she reads, put marks (movable ones—strips of paper) in the book at all the striking passages, whether of thought, sentiment, or narration. Recurring to these, she.will, by a second perusal, have the best part of her author fully impressed on her own mind. When she has thus finished reading “ ancient history,’’ she should, in the same manner, take the standard historians of modern nations, beginning with English history, as the most comprehensive, and, from the identity of language, being to us most important. This system, if perse- veringly followed, will give her an acquaintance with history, poetry, and criticism. And when she comes down towards the seventeenth century, the interest deepens, because our country then comes out like a new star on the horizon; and the two succeeding centuries, with the seventeenth, are rich in the treasures of intel- What a store of memoirs, letters, essays, poems, lect. Here are pleasures and narratives will be found! produce new ideas? We can dance and sing but a few { occupations independent of wealth, of health, of station, 172

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EDITORS’ TABLE. 178 of situation, of age, which interfere with no duties, but enable us the better to go through the trials of the world, accommodating ourselves “‘ to that state of life in which it has pleased God to call us, A Curious Lisrary.—lIn 1847 Count Leopold Ferri died at Padna, leaving a library entirely composed of works written by women in various languages, the number of volumes amounting to nearly thirty-two thousand. Whether the English and American lady writers were included in his list, we do not know, but we wish some woman of taste and fortune would, in our country, make a similar collection. LITERATURE IN Russta.—During the past year there have been published in the empire of the czar, ninety- five newspapers, and sixty-six magazines and periodi- cals, devoted to the proceedings of learned societies. Of these, seventy-six newspapers and forty-eight mag- azines are in the Russian language; fifteen newspapers and ten magazines in German; two newspapers and six magazines in French; three newspapers in English; one newspaper in Polish; and one in Latin; two news- papers in Georgian; and two in Lettish; also three newspapers in Russian and German, and two in Rus- sian and Polish. In St. Petersburg, twenty-six news- papers and forty-two magazines are published in the languages above mentioned. Thus, the people of Rus- sia are becoming accustomed to the civilization of the press; and the progress is onward. A GLANCE AT THE WeEstT:*— Mrs. SARAH J. HALE: I have spent the last hour looking over the pages of the “ Lady’s Book”’ for Novem- ber and December, and am pleased to see that it bears no marks of frost, while it comes richly laden with the fruits of age. “ Godey” has some charms, which no other eastern magazines can boast, for western readers. This periodical has been our companion for many years, and its name is a “household word” in almost every home. ‘Long before railroading was a branch of business in the valley of the Ohio; when even a large portion of the * Territory of the Northwest” was an almost unbroken wilderness, the “ Lady’s Book,” like a messenger of good tidings, made its way over the Alleghany mountains, and across the beautiful prairies, to the loveliest ham- lets and the most intelligent families of the great States of Ohio and Indiana. Other magazines have sprung into life, devoted by turns to politics, humanity, litera- ture, religign, and science; but “‘ Godey”’ has varied not, exhibiting in successive chapters, from the beginning until this hour, the elegance, without the fastidiousness, the honesty, without the scrupulosity, and the learning, without the pedantry, of the panorama of American life. But I did not sit down to write a formal eulogium upon a work which has vindicated its claims to merit by main- taining, through a long series of years, a heavy circula- tion in the most intelligent and fashionable circles of the country. To say, at this late period, that the ** Lady’s Book” merits the patronage which it has com- manded, would be simply to say whatever everybody admits to be true. Since your work was commenced, the seat of empire in this country has been removed from New England and the Middle States to the Valley of the Mississippi. * From George P. Buell, Esq., editor of the “ Western Democratic Review.” Indianapolis, Nov. 1854, 15° We have not rivalled you, nor can we hope to rival you, for many years to come, in the walks of literature and science; but we are rapidly building, upon the founda- tion laid thirty years ago by the pioneers of the west, a superstructure of polite learning and utilitarian philoso- phy, whose proud proportions will one day attract the united admiration of the Old and the New World. Literature, as a science, has found a home in our midst, and it may be observed that it has a character peeuliarly its own. In England, and on the continent of Europe, the dawn of letters was hailed from the mansions of opulence and power. It was considered a condescension on the part of haughty barons to notice with favor the first efforts of the tyroof the press. That feeling of the superiority of ‘‘greatness’’ to the elegant pursuits of knowledge, has been transmitted from gene- ration to generation, and at this day the influence of some distinguished lord appears sufficient to impart immortal renown to even ordinary genius. In the Western World, however, the case is widely different. Learning is linked to no “undying names.” It is pursued in the great labor- atory of nature. Those are only its patrons who patron- onize it for its own sake. There is a freshness in its conceptions, and a power in its manifestations, which cannot be separated from originality. The sun of letters which is now rising in this great valley is not a second- ary orb, which has shone before, but one which, in its meridian splendor, will eclipse the brightest era of the past. There is every prospect that this vast region will afford a single example of all the powerful incentives to human action operating in the production of isolated men. Greatness has been said not to belong to clime, and occasional instances of the loftiest exhibitions of mind, under apparently the most unfavorable circum- stances, seem to justify the conclusion. Still, the gene- ral truth is evidenced by the history of all ages of the world, that geographical position has exerted an over- whelming influence in moulding the character of a peo- ple. The proximity of Athens, of Carthage, and of Alexandria, to the great “inland sea” of the eastern hemisphere, beyond a reasonable doubt, was the secret of the magnificence, the humanity, and the glory of those beacon lights of antiquity. The stupendous influence which England has so long maintained in the councils of modern nations is perhaps chiefly deducible from that insulated position whose very necessities seem to have tempted her to the Godlike enterprise of using the ocean to subjugate the land. The presence of the beau- tiful and grand in nature is requisite to the development of the corresponding qualities in man. Our uncounted race form indeed but a type, a purely philosophical reflection of the earth on which we live. The rugged mountain seems to speak in the lofty, fearless, and immutable Alpine mind; the silver streams of Spain observe not a smoother channel than the pensive current of an Andalusian heart; the mighty ocean is not deeper or more grand than the spirit that embraces its sublim- ity. That mind which shall be wrought upon the scale of nature on this continent will be such as the world has hardly seen. It is a great organic truth that, from the earliest ages, the march of civilization has been in the direction of the setting sun. As the star of ancient power, and learn- ing, and glory, set upon the regions adjacent to the gar- den of Eden, it rose upon the mighty West. But a few years have passed since the East paid little regard to the West. Her institutions of learning, her progress, every- thing not of eastern origin, commanded but little atten- tion, even on the borders of the Atlantic. The editor

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174 GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. a of “ Frazer’s Magazine,’’ of London, introducing a beau- tiful letter, written by the lamented Howard of Indiana, in the ye&r 1833, from the banks of the Wabash, says: “ Next comes a voice from Indiana! From the banks of the Father of Rivers, of the glorious Mississippi him- self! It is quite clear that we are, as Wordsworth would express it, ‘stepping westward.’ We give the letter precisely as we have received it, and shall take care that Mr. Jackson, our agent at New York, forwards a copy of this number to Rockville!’ The editor of the ablest literary journal of the Old World, twenty-one years ago, confounded the noble Wabash and the giant Mississippi; and he not only did this, but condescended to publish, “ precisely as it was received,” a letter cover- ing two-thirds of a page, from one of the most eloquent orators, one of the most classical scholars, and one of the purest patriots living between the Alleghany and the Rocky Mountains! General Howard was the great champion of common schools in Tennessee; was after- wards District Attorney for Indiana, and finally Chargé @ Affaires to the Republic of Texas, having received the appointment, unsolicited on his part, through the influ- ence of John C. Calhoun, under Tyler. General Howard @ied young. In examining his papers a few months since, for the purpose of writing his life, I found an immenee roll of manuscript, which proved to be a literal transcript of the Philosophy of Aristotle, and the prin- cipal commentaries upon it, which Mr. Howard, in an attorney’s office, had completed in 1833, as an aid in mastering the sublime science of logic. In looking at the identical copy of “ Frazer,” forwarded through Mr. Jackson, I found it extensively defaced by all sorts of marks calculated to insure its safe delivery to the obscure individual supposed to reside on the confines of civilization. But the face of things has radically changed. Notmany years ago, our own beautiful Ohio did indeed course silently through an almost undisturbed wilderness; now, however, floating upon its waters, are steamers rivalling the most magnificent upon the Hudson; upon its banks are factories differing not in the slightest degree from those of New England; and colleges honored by as high a grade of talent and learning as graces the universities of the East. The progress of this country, in the last half century, has amfized the world. The additions which have been made to our territory are such as were not anticipated by any. Our progress 1as been unlike that of other regions and other times. Under the influence of our in- stitutions, the inhabitants of the Eastern World—China and Japan—that so long and so successfully resisted the attempted invasions of European ideas, have become our neighbors. England attempted revolution in China by the use of bayonets and cannon; we have laid the foundation of a successful and radical revolution in that vast empire, by the annexation of California. No viands which Europe could afford, tended, in the slight- est degree, to arouse the cupidity, the curiosity, or the sleeping energies of the Orientals. When, however, the golden fields of the Sacramento were announced, they turned their eyes across the broad blue waters of the Pacific, and contemplated a land which promised them more than the philosophy of Confucius. The day of the political redemption of the East is not distant. The Yankees, and we mean ‘the universal Yankee nation,’ are on the march for the Pacific; the tide of our civili- zation will soon roll on an iron road from the shores of the Atlantic to the farther West. We do not now mean by “the West,’ what was understood by it years ago. PAPA APA AAPAAPRA LAID LLLP LLL LLLP Pa Pa tm an Pde ttle attests Bacon regarded New England as the West; the inhabi- tants of Massachusetts call the prairies of Illinois by that name; we locate it beyond the Rocky Mountains :— * It follows the declining sun Along the banks of Oregon ; Nor leaves him where he makes his pillow On the great Pacific’s billow.” In parts of California, “the West” is another name for the Sandwich Islands. We are certainly a progres- sive and aggressive people. An indestructible feature in the American character is a love of territorial aggran- dizement; and we care not how far we shall go toward the east or the west, the north or the south; the banner of the “stars and stripes” is morally wide enough to shelter the world. We believe that this is a great country; that the ground is not yet ours upon which shall be erected its outer walls; and we have almost persuaded ourselves that the sexton who shall blot us from the roll of nations will be deeply interested in the consummation of human affairs. . But, madam, I find I have violated the “ unities.”’ Sit- ting down to request you, in a few lines, to send me a copy of the new work which you have prepared, entitled * The Bible Reading Book,’ I have wandered into litera- ture and speculations. Begging pardon for the digres- sion, and for occupying so much space in your valuable work, I will trespass a little further by inserting the fol- lowing beautiful poem, written by Mrs. Saran T. BoL- Ton of this city, whose fame as a writer is the particular pride of the West, and destined to become the common property of the Union. I think so competent a judge as the editress of the “‘ Lady’s Book” will admit that the celebrated saying of Fontaine is beautifully amplified into an illustration of the energy of the Mississippi Val- ley, under the title of “PADDLE YOUR OWN CANOE, * Voyager upon life’s sea, To yourself be true, And whate’er your lot may be, Paddle your own canoe. Never, though the winds may rave, Falter nor look back; But, upon the darkest wave, Leave a shining track. “ Nobly dare the wildest storm, Stem the hardest gale; Brave of heart, and strong of arm, You will never fail. When the world is cold and dark, Keep an aim in view; And toward the beacon mark Paddle your own canoe. « Every wave that bears you on To the silent shore, From its sunny source has gone, To return no more. Then let not an hour’s delay Cheat you of your due; But, while it is called to-day, Paddle your own canoe. “If your birth denied you wealth, Lofty state, and power; Honest fame and hardy health Are a better dower. But if these will not suffice, Golden gain pursue ;

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EDITORS’ TABLE. 175 And to reach the glittering prize, Paddle your own canoe. * Would you wrest the wreath of fame From the hand of fate? Would you write a deathless name With the good and great? Would you bless your fellow-men? Heart and soul imbue With the holy task, and then Paddle your own canoe. “ Would you crush the tyrant wrong, In the world’s free fight? With a spirit brave and strong, Battle for the right. And to break the chains that bind ‘ The many to the few; To enfranchise slavish mind, Paddle your own canoe. Nothing great is lightly won ; Nothing won is lost ; Every good deed, nobly done, Will repay the cost. Leavé to heaven, in humble trust, All you will to do; But if you succeed, you must Paddle your own canoe.” EpvcaTION OF CHILDREN.—Lord Brougham gives it as his opinion that the child learns more the first eighteen months of its life than at any other period ; in fact, settling its mental capacity and future well-being. Dr. Babbington states the period of the first nine years as the seed-time for life. The Roman Catholic priest wants the child for the first seven years of training, when its character is moulded for time and eternity. If the early training of the child is of such paramount importance, should not those who naturally have the care of infants and young children, mothers and nurses, be thoroughly instructed themselves before undertaking this great work of educators? Who will establish a school for children’s nurses? It is more needed in our country than institutions for idiots. Lapy Puysicitans.*—The corner-stone of a medical college for women is laid at Richmond, Virginia. It will cost $125,000, and will doubtless be well got up and supported. There is no other department of mas- culine duty which women have a better right to share than the medical. As it is, they do half the physician’s work—and the better half. And then, as regards the more delicate and ailing half of the community, their services would be more welcome and efficacious than those of the men; and to this half add all the children. The fact is that, according to the suffrages of common sense, women would have the greater part of the medi- * From the “Saturday Evening Mail,” edited by George R. Graham, and published by C., F. Peters & Co. We commend this weekly paper to families as excellent in its moral and literary influence. Its advocacy of the education of woman, and of her fitness for her duties (among which the medical care of her own sex in femi- nine complaints, and the thorough knowledge of the diseases of childhood, are included), is earnest, and will, we trust, help onward the good cause ¢ ¢ > ‘ ALLL LPP cal work of the world—the women and children; and we believe this will yet be thecase. Not that we would confine them entirely to these. We know very well that many of the male people, when sick, would rather have a gentle young lady doctor than a great, grave medico of the other sex. The only drawback in this case would be the increased tendency of all young gen- tlemen to make complaints of illness on slight occasions, and become malades imaginaires, like the man in the comedy. Let women prepare to take possession of the medical department of human science; they are the fittest for it. At this moment a regiment of them, under Miss Nightingale as colonel—blessings on her soft voice and stout heart !—are setting out from London, in order to tend the sick in the hospitals of Constantinople. They will go there, and they will do more good than the sur- geons and doctors. We do not approve of ladies in the pulpit, or in trou- sers, or delivering lectures, except curtain lectures, which are womanly things enough, and, in most in- stances, highly called for. But we hope to see the day when authoritative women will go about with their pills, prescriptions, and so forth, to deal with and diminish the majority of diseases that visit our house- holds. Tue Opin RELIGION.— Under this head, the “ West- minster Review,’’ for October, has a very interesting article gathered from several recent German works. The old Teutonic race were lovers of myth and mystery, and their descendants, who remain where their fore- fathers worshipped, seem even now half inclined to serve the same shadowy gods. German philosophers live, usually, in cloud-land, and the study of the “ Scriptures of Odinism”’ is for them a congenial pur- suit. The article is very interesting; but we notice it here for the sake of the acknowledgment made to the aptitude of the female mind for the reception of the Christian religion. The writer, alluding to the number of the nobler sort who received the new faith, says these were “ influenced in many cases—it is astonish- ing in how many—by the pious examples and the silent persuasions of devout women, to whose tender hearts Christ proved more congenial than Odin.” To CoORRESPONDENTS.—The following articles are accepted: “A Poet’s Song in Despondency’’—“ The Winter Night’”’—“ Gathered to her Babies””—“ Skating”’ —*He doeth all things well”—“‘ Autumn Days’— * Allen’s Grave’’—* My Heart is thine’’—* Invocation” — “The Forest Cemetery’”—* Sleep lightly, Love”— and “‘ The Good and Pure of Earth.” The following are declined: “To the Departed”— “ Memory’s Serenade”—* Youth and Old Age”—* Let come whatever will”—The Lady of the deep blue Eye” — The Orphan’’—* Scraps from a Journal”’—* Cleve- land Cemetery, with Reflections”—‘‘ The Widow.” (This effusion did not reach us till the January number was printed. The author had better send the MS. poem to the lady for whom it is designed.)—“‘ To Mary Neal.” (Better send the MS. to the poetess.)—‘ A Midnight Song.’”? (The poem has merit, but the writer can im- prove.)—“ Lines on a Mountain”—*“I sing of thee, Love”—“ Lines.”” (Two pieces inclosed in the letter were accepted; see above.)—‘* My Angel’’—“ Winter” —“*Gold.” (Of no value. Better dig than steal other men’s thoughts.)—‘‘ The wild—wild Ocean’’—“ Pride” — A long Journey”—and “‘ The Return Home.”

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176 GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. Literary Notices. Books By MAIL.—Now that the postage on printed matter js so low, we offer our services to procure for our subscribers or others any of the books that we notice. Information touching books will be cheerfully given by inclosing a stamp to pay return postage. From E. H. BuTLER & Co., Philadelphia :— LECTURES ON THE EVIDENCES OF CHRIST- IANITY. Delivered in Philadelphia, by Clergymen of the Protestant Episcopal Church, in the Fall and Winter of 1853-4. With an Introductory Essay by Alonzo Potter, D. D., LL.D., Bishop of the Diocese of Pennsylvania. The “ Introductory Essay” is a masterpiece of philo- sophical reasoning applied to moral science, and most fitly prepares the reader for the powerful and beautiful discourses which follow. There are fifteen of these, from men of the highest talent the Episcopal Church has the privilege of numbering in her fold. We cannot, in the short space to which our notices are necessarily confined, give any adequate notion of the merits of these “‘ Lectures.’’ Those who listened to the eloquent speakers during the course will not need our testimony to the excellence and importance of this work. It should be in every place of learning for fema!e as well as male students. Young women will learn to under- stand aright the influence they can wield on the minds of men by the record of that wrought on the mind of M. Comte by Madame de Vaux (see page 10); and this evidence of the power which God has conferred on the female sex of advancing religious truth should make Christian men in earnest to psomote the thorough train- ing of woman. These “ Lectures” will be of great value in aiding home education. THE SCHOLAR’S COMPANION: containing Ezer- cises in the Orthography, Derivation, and Classification of English Words. Revised edition, with an introduc- tion and a copious index. By Rufus Bailey. We like this book, and commend it highly to all educators. A thorough mastery of its contents, which may be made by any child of common power of memory by the age of ten or twelve years, will give him or her a better know- ledge of the English language than is usually acquired in a scholastic education, where the mind is directed more to the grammatical construction of sentences and the beauty of rhetorical flourishes than to the simple meaning and power of words. The introduction ex- plains this very forcibly. From Henry CAREY Barrp, Philadelphia :— PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF THE STAGE, Embracing Notices of Actors, Authors, and Auditors, during a Period of Forty Years. By William B. Wood, late Director of the Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washing- ton, and Alexandria Theatres. Witha portrait. There can be none of the old “ play-going” citizens of Phila- delphia alive who are not more or less familiar with the venerable author of this interesting volume. Nay, even those who have not known Mr. Wood as an actor will be ready to admit his unquestionable merits as a gentleman, whose character has invariably combined all the sterling peculiarities of the old school. The writer of this brief notice remembers having frequently met Mr. Wood on Chestnut Street, when he was in his prime, arm in arm with members of the Philadelphia bar, one of whom, at least, has been a popular repre- sentative of his fellow-citizens in the councils of the nation, and a representative of his country at one of the most polished courts of Europe. We mention the fact simply to show the estimation in which the author has always been held by men who were the most com- petent to appreciate talents and virtues, independent of social prejudices. At that day, as he has been ever since, William B. Wood was the most polished and gentlemanly representative of his profession to be found in America, or probably in the world. And such he continues to be ; for who that ever meets him now, in his ripe old age, that does not recognize in his digni- fied countenance, and in his always neat costume, identical with the past, even in the color and tie of his cravat, the true gentleman, as he was full fifty years ago. But to those who did not know him in his prime of life, or who have retained but a faint recollection of his theatrical associates, the volume before us is full of interest; while to those who, like himself, have sur- vived nearly all their early associates and theatrical favorites, it will prove a genial reproduction of charac- ter and feeling, which will excite the most pleasing reminiscences, and for the author the warmest sympa- thies of those who recognize him as forming a part of their recollections of the past. Besides these old and pleasant associations, all who desire to know what the stage has been in Philadelphia, and the characters of most of those who have been connected with it from the earliest days, will not fail to consult these unpretending, but most interesting “‘ Personal Recollections.” ‘“ Per- sonal,’’ however, as the volume professes to be, there is less of mere personal gossip and theatrical cant inter- woven with its relations than in any similar work of the kind we have ever read. In this Mr. Wood has shown his usual good taste and judgment. From T. B. PeTERsON, Philadelphia :-— PETERSON’S LIBRARY OF HUMOROUS AME- RICAN WORKS. With original designs by Darley. Two volumes of this entertaining and popular publica- tion are now onour table. The first contains “‘ Yankee Yarns and Yankee Letters,’’ by Sam Slick, alias Judge Haliburton. The second is entitled “‘ Theatrical Jour- neywork and Anecdotical Recollections of Sol Smith, Esq., Comedian, Attorney-at-Law,” etc. With a por- trait of the author. Price 50 cents each. From Mason Brotuers, New York, through T. B. PETERSON, Philadelphia :— RUTH HALL: @ Domestic Tale of the Present Timo, By Fanny Fern. As a writer, the author of this vol- ume has been very successful and very popular. Her success and popularity may be increased by this “ do- mestic tale;’”? but, as we never interfere in family affairs, we must leave readers to judge for themselves. From Fisher & BROTHER, Philadelphia :— CHRISTY’S PLANTATION MELODIES. A popu- lar collection of negro songs. From Lippincott, GramsBo, & Co., No. 14 North Fourth Street, Philadelphia :— BRUSHWOOD, PICKED UP ON THE CONTI- NENT; or, Last Summer’s Trip to the Old World. By Orville Hortwitz. The incidents and descriptions in this volume are very interesting. It will furnish the reader with many new views of European scenery, and many original reflections on the state of the arts, relic gion, and politics. ae ot ates 4. a ae

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LITERARY 177 NOTICES. PEBBLES FROM THE LAKE SHORE; or, Miscel- laneous Poems. By Charles Leland Porter, A. M. Lip- pincott, Grambo, & Co., Philadelphia. We areindebted to the author for a copy of this work, which has been very handsomely printed and tastefully bound. The contents embrace some eighty short poems on various subjects, most of which are highly creditable to the genius and taste of the author. Many of these were Originally published in the “ Lady’s Book,’ and in other magazines and newspapers of the day, and favor- ably received by the public. From Evans & Dickerson, New York, through Lippincott, GRAMBO, & Co., Philadelphia :— HARRY’S VACATION. By Wm. C. Richards, A. M. The rising generation of this country are greatly indebt- ed to Messrs. Evans & Dickerson and his talented corps of writers for some of the best books for children ever produced. They are not of the old-fashioned ‘‘ Mother Goose” style of children’s books, but works well writ- ten, well printed, and well bound. The book that we are noticing is one that we can recommend in the strongest terms to parents. It combines science with ornament. It will instruct as well as delight. We quote a portion of the preface: “ The accidental fall of a dish from the fingers of a careless servant forms the text of a discussion on gravitation. The frost-work upon the window-panes, a soap-bubble rolling upon the carpet, a schoolboy’s sport with ‘a sucker’—these and a hundred other apparent trifles are pegs upon which are hung the most valuable lessons of practical wisdom. Almost all the branches of physical science are illus- trated in the development of the story; and the intelli- gent child may gather more distinct and accurate ideas about them, almost unconsciously, while following the sports and pastimes of Harry and his companions, than he could possibly derive from text-books on science in a quarter’s hard study. The author’s familiarity with the sciences has enabled him to interweave their lead- ing facts into the thread of the story, with due regard to philosophical accuracy, while it is never burdened with the technicalities of science, or made dull by dry and tedious explanations.” It contains six well-executed engravings. The excellent author we are well ac- quainted with, and a book from his pen everybody, old and young, may peruse with safety. We have called this a book for young people; it is written, and the ex- periments are described, in that easy and explanatory style that will easily be comprehended by children; but there is not a grown person in the country but what will find in this little volume matter that will interest and instruct him. From Harper & BrotTHerRs, New York, through Parry & McMILLAN, Philadelphia :— HISTORY OF THE ORIGIN, FORMATION, AND ADOPTION OF THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. With notices of the principal framers. By George Tickner Curtis. In two volumes. We have before us the first volume of this able work, which thus far promises to be of the greatest import- ance as a valuable condensation of the political history of the United States. Of late years, too many of those who even aspired to make politics a profession seem to place but little value on the constitution as it is, and to know and to care less about its history. If, however, it is the intention of the people to preserve the Union as something stronger and more reliable than “a rope of sand,” is it not time that they and their servants . } | | ! ; : should make some honest efforts to revive the princi- ples, and to replace the landmarks upon which the great national compromises were supported and adopt- ed? Such works as that which is here referred to will undoubtedly effect a great amount of good in this re- spect. Their circulation and perusal will prevent a great amount of sectional jealousies and sectarian dif- ferences, where neither the one nor the other should ever exist. We hope, therefore, that it will be read and studied by those who aspire to be leaders and teachers, as well as by all good people who desire the perpetuity ofthe American Union, without which Ame- rican liberty cannot long survive. THE ILLUSTRATED NATURAB#HISTORY. By the Rev. J.G. Wood, M. A. With four hundred and fifty original designs. By William Harvey. This is a book that ought to be in every family. It is a very interesting volume. The printing and engravings of this popular natural history are in the usual finished style of the Harpers. HARPER’S STORY-BOOK. No. 1. We hail the appearance of this new work with great pleasure. Anything intended for the amusement and instruction of children meets with our decided approbation. If the children of this generation are not wise, it will not be because they are not well catered for. The size of the work is good, the reading matter excellent, and the engravings superb. LATER YEARS. By the author of “ The Old House by the River,’’ and the “‘ Owl Creek Letters.” We shall have reason to compassionate the reader whose feelings cannot sympathize with the author of this volume. He certainly sketches with a bold and confident hand, but, at the same time, with all the skill, delicacy, and re- fined taste of a natural artist, whose mind has been carefully educated, and whose heart was early taught to glow with just appreciations of the true and the beautiful. AGNES ANDCAROLINE. Franconian Stories. By the author of the “ Rollo Books.” Two handsomely illustrated volumes. In writing these beautiful and popular stories, the object of the author has been “ the development of the moral sentiments of the human heart in early life.’”’ This object he has kept constantly in view, and therefore his stories have imparted instruc- tion as well as delight to multitudes of youthful readers, who, we hope, will always cherish the virtuous senti- ments they have inculcated. THE YOUNG HUSBAND. By Mrs. Grey, author of “The Gambler’s Wife” and “ The Bosom Friend.” No. 193 of “* Harper’s Library of Select Novels.’’ Price 374¢ cents. We have received No. 7 of Harper’s “ Gazetteer of the World.” We are carefully filing the numbers, as it will be an invaluable work when completed. From CHARLES ScrIBNER, New York, through Par- ryY & McMILLAN, Philadelphia :— FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. By N. Parker Willis. The author of these sketches has never, we believe, been classed among the profound, historical, or ethical writers of his times, and yet a vast fund of agreeable philosophy may be extracted from his works. A great portion of the contents of this volume has here- tofore appeared under the title of “ Pencillings by the Way,” and in that form was treated with considerable acrimony by the critics. The work survived, however, and the auther prospered gloriously, adding greatly to his wealth as well as his fame. It became a great

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178 GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. favorite with the admirers of personal gossip, and with all such as could relish vivid descriptions of character as exhibited at foreign tournaments, balls, public din- ners, and private tea-parties. These peculiarities still retain a fixed influence over the minds of a certain class of fashionable readers, which it is quite probable will be transferred to generations yet to come. OUT-DOORS OF IDLEWILD; or, the Shaping of a Home on the Banks of the Hudson. This is another handsomely printed volume from the pen of N. P. Wil- lis, written during his “ invalid-retirement in the High- lands of the Hudson.” It was originally published in the “ Home Journal.”” The admirers of Mr. Willis will be pleased to seg it in its present form. THE HOME IN THE VALLEY. By Emilie F. Carlen, author of “One Year of Wedlock,” “ The Whimsical Woman,” etc. ete. From the original Swedish, by Elbert Perce. The author of this little volume ig a great favorite with all such readers as de- light in home scenes, and who take pleasure in contem- plating pictures of those quiet domestic virtues upon the realities of which so much of human happiness depends. THE RAT-CATCHER; or, the Magic Fife. A Story of the Olden Time. By Gustav Nientz. A very amus- ing book for young readers, translated from the German, by Mrs. H. C. Conant. BEAUTIFUL BERTHA. By Mrs. L. C. Tuttle, author of * Queer Bonnets,” “‘ Tip-Top,” ete. etc. Mrs. Tuttle is a pleasing and instructive writer. The moral tendency of her stories has never been questioned. THE PLUM-WOMAN; or, the Child with Three Fathers. A Tale of High Life and Low Life. By Gus- tav Nientz. A very interesting story for young read- ers, translated from the German by Mrs. H. C. Conant. OLD KARL, THE COOPER, AND HIS WONDER- FUL BOOK. By Elbert Perce. This is another beau- tiful book for the juvenile class of readers, and one with which we are quite certain they will be pleased. From De Witt & Davenport, N. Y., through T. B. Peterson, Philadelphia :— LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS VERSUS THE BUSH. By Mrs. Moodie, author of “ Roughing in the Bush.” Mrs. Moodie is a very pleasant and entertaining writer. She is peculiarly happy in her sketches of character. All her previous works have been extremely popular, as we think the present deserves to be, as it is quite equal to its predecessors in point of ability, though a little ahead of them in its Anglo-Canadian patriotism. From D. ApPpLeton & Co., No. 200 Broadway, New York. through T. B. Peterson, Philadelphia :— HEARTSEASE; or, the Brother’s Wife. By the author of the “ Heir of Redclyffe.”” In two volumes. But few novels have appeared lately possessing the interest and the literary merits of this work. The les- sons it contains are all exceHent. They will be perused with pleasure, and with profit, by all sensible readers. THE WANDERERS BY SEA AND LAND, WITH OTHER TALES. By Peter Parley. Illustrated with engravings. NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. By Cousin Alice. A beautiful story this for young readers. It is written in the same correct and fascinating style that has so greatly distinguished all Mrs. Neal’s pre- vious contributions to our juvenile literature. The moral is excellent, and such as will nerve the heart of the inexperienced reader with a generous self-reliance in all its future conflicts with the world. $ From Garrett & Co., New York, through T. B. PETERSON, Philadelphia :— FRED VERNON; or, the Victim of Avarice. By J. F. Smith, Esq., author of “‘ Minne Gray,” “ Gus. How- ard,” etc. An excellent novel by a well-known author. From J. S. REDFIELD, 110 and 112 Nassau Street, New York, through W. B. Z1eseEr, Philadelphia :— YOU HAVE HEARD OF THEM. By Q. This volume presents us with sketches of some forty indi- viduals, among whom are poets, painters, novelists, editors, players, singers, statesmen, policemen, authors, dramatists, pianists, and horn-blowers. All of these personages, whether living or dead, have at some time or other been the victims of popularity, and therefore they are the very individuals whose names, at least, * you have heard of” before this. But you now have an opportunity of being intimately acquainted with them all, if you will only accept of the introduction which is politely and flatteringly offered to you through the services of “Q.” The author, indeed, is not an Irishman, as you might well suppose him to be, and he even travelled in Ireland without acquiring any of the “ peculiarities of the brogue;” but then he succeeded in becoming admirably proficient in the science of “blarney.” Among his numerous readers there will no doubt be a few sincere admirers, who will respond to the lively sentences of the work, and to the “ perfect pictures,” with that pure sense of gratitude which is always due for favors intended to be conferred. SOUTHWARD HO! A Spell of Sunshine. By W. Gilmore Simms, Esq., author of “The Yemassee,” “ The Partisan,” etc. etc. Under the title of “ South- ward Ho!’ Mr. Simms has furnished a volume of beau- tifully written historic, romantic, and amusing sketches and tales, such as any author, North or South, might feel proud to have presented to the literature of his country. We need not say that Mr. Simms is an able, witty, and elegant writer, or that he is a spirited and generous defender of the revolutionary principles of the republic. These qualities are fully attested in all his works, and not less in this, whatever preferences may appear to be given in the historical portions of it to the author’s side of the questions introduced; for it must and will be admitted that he has always sustained those preferences with talent and magnanimity, and with a patriotic heartiness of purpose which challenges our admiration. From Bunce & BroTHerR, New York :— AMABEL: a Family History. By Mary Elizabeth Wormley. This is an English tale, well written, and unusually interesting. From SHELDON, LAMPporRT, & BLAKEMAN, New York :— IDA NORMAN; or, Trials and their Uses. By Mrs. Lincoln Phelps. This is an interesting and thoroughly American story. The various mutations of fortune so common in this country, with the circumstances that led to them or followed them, and the traits of character brought out by that means, are depicted in a lively and graphic manner. It is unnecessary to ggy that the moral aim of the book is pure and high. The name of the authoress is a sufficient guarantee for that. Itisa work that can be placed in the hands of any young person with the conviction that nothing but good can come from its perusal, and that, while it serves to ainuse, it will also elevate the mind.

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et, his di- its, ive ith gh LITERARY NOTICES. 179 ~ AA From Pxtiutps, Sampson, & Co., Boston, through R. H. See, Philadelphia :— " THE WORKS OF BEN JONSON. With a Bio- graphical Memoir, by Wiiliam Gifford. A new edition. This is a handsomely printed and substantially bound volume of nearly one thousand royal octavo pages. No person who professes to have an acquaintance with English classical literature, or who venerates the genius and the services of its early founders, can afford to be without a copy of the works of Ben Jonson. He was the contemporary and the intimate friend and lite- rary companion of Shakspeare while he lived, and the most sincere of his eulogists after his decease, and it therefore seems only natural that their works sheuld find places side by side on the same shelves of every well-selected library. The volume before us is truly a superb specimen of the arts of printing and binding, and, we might add, of the art of engraving also, as it is embellished with an exquisitely finished and most ex- pressive portrait of the author. THE WORKS OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER; the Text formed from a new Collation of the early Editions. With notes and a biographieal memoir, by the Rev. Alexander Dyce. In two volumes. The few com- ments which we have made in reference to the works ef Ben Jonson will apply with equal justice to these volumes and to their author. Beaumont and Fletcher were the contemporaries of Shakspeare and Jonson, and their works belong to the same era, and partake of the peculiarities of dramatic poetry, for which that era is distinguished. Those peculiarities, as is well known to critics, were not exemplified by a strict adherence to the rules of modesty or chastity of sentiment. Many of the dialogues, therefore, to be found in the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher in particular, exhibit the pro- fligate tendencies of the age in which they were written, but in few instances have their authors permitted honor and virtue to go unrewarded. Nevertheless, these vol- umes were edited by a clergyinan, whose judgment and literary taste may be implicitly relied upon, and, of course, they will find a place in the library along with Shakspeare and Jonson. GEMS OF BEAUTY; or, Literary Gifis for 1855. Edited by Emily Percival. This is a splendid annual of 288 pages, containing a number of contributions and selections from the most approved and popular authors, besides nine illustrations, engraved in the best style of the art. THE BOOK OF THE BOUDOIR; or, Memento of Friendship. A Gift for all Seasons. Edited by Ellen Louise. This is another richly bound volume of the same class as the preceding. Its contents are varied, and from the pens of the best authors, and the illustra- tions, six in number, are really beautiful. THE SOUVENIR GALLERY: an Illustrated Gift- Book for all Seasons. Edited by Emily Percival. This souvenir has once before been presented to the public under another dress and title. But that fact will not prevent it from being hailed by old and new friends with the greatest pleasure. Its contents embrace thirty- two sketches and tales, in prose and poetry, and thir- teen illustrations in the highest style of the art, which, together with the outside decorations, render it one of the most acceptable presents that has been prepared for the season. THE AMARANTH; or, Tokens of Remembrance. A Christmas and New-Year’s Present for 1855. Edited by Emily Percival. This is the ninth volume that has appeared since the commencement of this popular an- LPL LPP LLLP ALL LLL ALL nual. Itis handsomely illustrated, and contains nume- rous articles in the several departments of literature of great merit. THIS, THAT, AND THE OTHER. By Ellen Louise Chandler. With illustrations by Rowse. This is @ very fine edition of a volume of sketches, noticed on a former occasion, and of which seven thousand copies have been published. The following works, beautifully bound and illus- trated, are intended for young readers, to whom they will always be acceptable, as well for the instruction as for the amusement they will afford: “ The Grateful Heart; or, a Silver Lining to every Cloud.” “ Estelle’s Stories about Dogs, for Good Boys and Girls.” “ Little Blossom’s Reward: a Christmas Tale for Children.” By Mrs. Emily Hare. “The Charm: an Dlustrated Book for Boys and Girls.” “ Christmas Holidays at Chestnut Hill.” By Cousin Mary. And, in addition to these valuable works, we have the pleasure to acknowledge the receipt, from the same publishers, of the first six volumes of “ Lingard’s His- tory of England,” a notice of which appeared in the “ Lady’s Book” of December last. We have also, from the same publishers, a handsome volume entitled “ Ida May: a Story of Things Actual and Possible,” by Mary Langdon; and the concluding numbers, together with a bound copy, of ‘* Martin Mer- rivale,’’ a popular tale by Paul Creyton. ISABEL CARROLLTON. A Personal Retrospect. A very interesting narrative. From J. Burrvun, 23 Cornhill, Boston :— TOWN AND COUNTRY; or, Life at Home and Abroad, Without and Within us. By John 8. Adams, A collection of articles, prose and poetry, grave and gay, and all written with the aim of doing good. The overflow of these works of the day, dealing in the scenes and things of common life around us, has nearly submerged critics and washed away criticism. We can only record their advent, and let them go by. Among the millions of American readers, this book will doubtless find friends. It is well gotten up. THE PRISONER’S FRIEND, by Charles Spear, is still going out on its errands of mercy. May success attend his efforts ! From Crospy, Nicnoxs, & Co., Boston, through W. 8S. MARTIEN, Philadelphia :— POPULAR TALES. By Madame Guizot. Trans- lated from the French, by Mrs. L. Burke. This neat little volume contains a number of tales which are highly entertaining and instructive, particularly for the youthful class of readers. They have been translated in a familiar and intelligible language, and in that re- spect are altogether preferable to many of the stories which are written and translated for home consump- tion. Their morality is therefore within the compre- hension of those for whom its precepts were particularly designed. CHILDREN’S TRIALS; or, the Little Rope Dancers and other Tales. Translated from the German of Au- guste Linden, by Trauer Mantel. With a number of colored illustrations. “ WHat 1s Home witHovut a FATHER?” Words and music by Louis D. Rees. A beautiful composition, and already extremely fashionable in our musieal circles. Every lady ought to have a copy, and, to ac- commodate them, we will send a copy on receipt of 25 cents, or five copies for $1.

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180 PI RN RII iin 80 03g 03 3 8g YUE ee eee Goden’s Arm-Chair Our Fesruary Numser.—Another beautiful gemo- graph plate by the same engraver as “ Crossing the Brook,” in our October number, which gave so much pleasure to our half million readers. It is called “‘ The Little Image Merchant,” and tells its own story better than we can tell it. Look at the fashion plate, ladies ; you know you can’t see anything like it elsewhere, either for truthfulness, coloring, or engraving. An im- provement will be perceived in our blue cuts; they are now printed in two colors. These last are taken from the original English work. So we go on improving on every number. The following is an illustration of “ The Happy Home,” by Richard Coe, Esq. :— “Let us look for a moment, my dear reader, into what is termed by our artist ‘The Happy Home,’ and see what is to be found there. Music, flowers, pictures, and poetry ; helpless infancy, guileless childhood, vigor- ous manhood, and sober age; temperance, frugality, intelligence, and wisdom. These are the elements that constitute ‘The Happy Home,’ and without them no home ever can be happy. Let us, then, my dear reader, each and all of us, learn a lesson from this picture, and, by right-living upon earth, strive to secure for ourselves & happy home in Heaven.” CuPip IN A QUANDARY.—We have asked our artist the meaning of this engraving. He thinks it is a repre- sentation of the Victoria Regia, as that is generally seen in a tub of water. But we think it is a hit at the editor, whose heart is very susceptible, and here it is pierced through and through. Our subscribers have no idea of the numerous ques- tions we are asked. Some inclose a stamp, and request & private reply; and we answer all we can with plea- sure. But, once for all, we can’t find situations for young ladies in this city, and we don’t purchase poetry. “ ALone.”—This delightful novel, by our contributor, Marion Harland, has been republished in London by Low, Son, & Co., with designs by Alfred Crowquill. Our present number contains an article—“ The Sym- pathy Meeting’’—by this lady. Havine but two hands, and only one of them that we can write with, it is utterly impossible for us to answer letters about poetry. We never give our opin- ion about articles, and we do not correct them for the press. Contributors must look at “ Notices to Corre- spondents” to see whether their articles are accepted or rejected. BOOK-KEEPING, by single and double entry, is a science that can be taught; but how to keep a book, against the encroachments by the home entry, is another science. The Pa. “ Mirror and News” says that his “wife understands that invaluable science of book- keeping, don’t lend.”’ ** Just so,’ says one who is peeping over our shoul- der, as she gently removes it from the range of our visual organ.” And don’t you feel happy that you have one to whom you can allow that privilege? She does not see “how any lady can do without Godey’s * Book.’” Is it not so, thou “ Sentinel,’ of Ogdens- burgh? GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. “Tue MOTHER’s FartH,” by Alice B. Neal, in the December number, ought to be read in every family, says the N. C. “ Republican ;” and we find the press in general are waking up to the merits of our contributor, Pauline Forsyth. Her ries of the South are pro- nounced the most perfe,’ »ictures of life in the South ever published. Tue Cottace of our Can la friend will appear in the March number. Could i t be got ready for this . pumber. We hope the artist w 1 keep his promise. WE give the following, not for any self-gratification, but merely as signs of the times. A lady sends us the following letter, inclosing $24 :— “ Your ‘ Lady’s Book’ has ever been a favorite with me. Ihave been a subscriber for eight years. When- ever I receive a copy, everything else is laid aside until its pages are all read over. Allow me to say I think it one of the most beautiful and really useful monthlies now in circulation, and one I can recommend with con- fidence to every Christian lady, without running the hazard of aiding in the circulation of a pernicious work. I know of no magazine mdre elevated in its character, and none which I think so well adapted to the wants of every lady. Mrs. B. 8., 1.” Borrowers have a hit here :— “T have succeeded in forming a club for your very interesting ‘ Lady’s Book.’ I started with the determi- nation to ask every one of my borrowers to take it; but, to my great surprise, not one of that character could think of taking Godey’s ‘ Lady’s Book,’ for they did not like it. Ky., Dec. 8.” From one who has repented :— “ Herewith you will receive $10, from a club of sub- scribers. My humble self hopes to receive the gratis number, and no longer be a borrpwer. Let the returns be prompt, as our hearts will be in our mouths till we set our eyes on the veritable ‘ Book.’ N. Y.” Another hit at borrowers ; but they seem, in this case, to have subscribed :— “T have concluded that it would be impossible to get along without your ‘ Lady’s Book,’ and, wishing to avoid lending it, have got upaclub. I will try to send you more during the year. mu.” “With a club of twenty :-— “You may perceive by the increase of names that your ‘ Lady’s Book’ is gaining favor in our small yet beautiful village. We were, by great exertions, ena- bled to procure for you the past year six subscribers ; now we have doubled the number the coming year, and we hope that their influence during the year will win for the ‘ Book’ a still larger number for the year to come. The style, beauty, and moral tone of the ‘ Book’ must gain the admiration and good wishes of every one desirous to cultivate correct deportment for their native community ; and we hope, with its influence, the com- ing year to infuse a desire in the heart of every lover of reading, and thereby increase your list; for we heartily wish every reader to peruse it, and to mould from it a character that will win from all well-disposed persons admiration and favor. A., Pa., Dec. 8.” A gentleman of Michigan, “8. A. G., Esq.,” sends us a club and says: “ My wife, as well as myself, like the * Book,’ and I expect to take it regularly for the future, and present it to her as a memento of our marriage, which took place in the first part of the first day of the first week of the first month of the year 1854.””

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GODEY’S ARM-CHAIR. Annem

TESTIMONIALS IN FAVOR OF Mrs. HALE’s “ BIBLE RrapinG-Booxk,”’ from letters of approval sent to the editor of the work :— “Tam much pleased with the plan and execution of Mrs. Hale’s ‘ Bible Reading-Book.’ It is, in my opinion, exceedingly well adapted for instruction in schools and private families. The pupils ) will make themselves acquainted with this conci. and continuous view of the Scriptures, can scarcel: 1 to have an earnest de- sire to turn to the sacred ime itself, from which they may at first have been ~-pelled by the magnitude and seeming want of unity o its contents. “ HENRY VETHAKE, “ Provost of the University of Pennsylvania. “ PHILADELPHIA, Nov. 1, 1854.”’ “T have examined the plan and execution of the ‘Bible Reading-Book,’ by Mrs. Sarah J. Hale, and think very favorably of it in both respects, as being well adapted to its important object. * CHARLES P. McILvarn, D. D., “ Bishop of the Diocese of Ohio. * CINCINNATI, Noy. 29, 1854.” C. G. Henperson & Co., corner of Fifth and Arch Streets, have sent us their “‘ Holiday Catalogue.” <A notice from us would be too late to do them any good. They should have sent it before. To print our immense edition requires a great deal of time, and publishers should be wide awake if they want holiday books no- ticed in our December number, which is the proper month. They should be sent to us by the fniddle of October. FRIEND OF THE “CONSTITUTION,” Erre.— Our name is pronounced as if spelled Gé-de; accent on the first syllable. A Home TrutTH.—Take your own papers. Every / person, we think, is bound to support their own papers. If you have not one published in your own place, then subscribe to the one nearest to you; and, after that, you want nothing but the “ Lady’s Book.” “It is a periodical,” says the Shelbyville “ News,” “which every lady should take in addition to her own paper.” Mrs. STepueEns’s * CrocnEeT-Boox.’’—As an act of justice to ourselves, we deem it due to state that the patterns we have already published, before Mrs. S.’s book appeared, and which are in her book, and those that we are about to publish, which may also be in her work, were taken from the original source, “‘ The Las dy’s Own Book,” published by W. S. Johnson, of Lon- don. This explanation is given, as our readers might suppose that we copied from Mrs. Stephens’s book. We have had the various numbers of “The Lady’s Own Book” in our possession for more than a year; but other novelties devaanded precedence. It is an excel- lent work, and we will furnish it for 75 cents. REMORSE OF CONSCIENCE.—We received a letter from Michigan—we won’t say what post-office—inclos- ing $5, saying: “‘ Sir: The inclosed money I send you to pay for the ‘ Lady’s Book,’ which I continued to take and make use of long after the real subscriber left the place. I have lately joined the church, and one of my first acts is to pay you the money which rightly belongs to you.”” Weill done, and honestly. Would we not be rich, if all who have done the same would pay up? We could build a chareh. voL. L.—16

PRAARARAPRAAPD ADL

181 ~ —_—

~

Very Goop.—Dr. P——-, who is attached to a Paris- ian theatre in the quality of a physician, expressed his astonishment that a man and woman were not created at the same time, instead of the latter springing from the rib of our first parent. A young lady standing by, remarkable for the graceful turn which she ever gives to the expression of her ideas, said: “‘ Was it not na- tural, sir, that the flower should come after the stem ?” Persons writing to us must put the name of the State, as well as town, inside their letters. Nothing can be made out of postmarks. ORACULARLY PRONoUNCED.—The §. C, “ Telescope”’ says: “We heartily agree with the ladies, that Godey makes the best ‘ Lady’s Book’ inthe world. The ‘ Book’ has no rival.”” We never dispute with the ladies. A Goop SvuBJEcT FOR A PictuRE.—The Georgia * Organ” says: “* Godey is always a welcome visitor. As evidence of the fact, the postmaster says there is more eagerness shown for the ‘ Book’ than all other publications coming to the office. For a week before the regular time the continual cry is, ‘Has Godey come? has Godey come?’ and he assures us there is no peace until Godey does ‘ come.’ ” HERE 1s A DELICATE MATTER.—The Portsmouth (N. H.) “ Gazette” says: ‘‘ Godey is entertaining and excellent. One word tothe publisher. We notonly are bored to death by borrowers for his ‘* Book,’ but one lady to whom we have loaned a few months’ numbers now asserts a prescriptive right of ownership in it, and monthly, long before it is due, propounds the question, ‘Has my Godey come?’ She is so pertinacious in her queries, and insists so strongly on her title, that we are actually forced to give in. Deargsir, what shall we do?’” As the lady, friend “‘ Gazette,” is no doubt your wife, why, of course, let her have it; but make her write you a good notice of it. You have not caught us this time. WE remember once hearing a person lay dowm an argument, a clincher. “ Sir,’’? said he, “it is a self- evident fact, and has been decided in every cout in Christendom, that, when a man has no funds in his banker’s hands, such banker is not bound to pay his drafts.” One other fact seems to be as self-evident, and we quote the Mississippi ‘‘ Chronicle” as authority. Tke editor says: “It is a fact universally aeknow- ledged, that Godey’s ‘Lady’s Book’ is the best maga- zine for ladies in the world.”’ Does our friend of the Macon “ Beaeon’’ remember old Weller’s advice to his son: “ Samivel, beware of the vidders’’? We ourselves do not believe there is any more danger in them than maidens; but, as our friend of the “ Beacon” is a young man, we give him a word in time, and that is—marry the widow. FRIEND CHESTER, for you to say that “‘ Godey’s host of patrons is about equal to the allied powers in point of numbers!” Why, man, we far outstrip them. You have made the amende, however, by saying: “ The ‘ Book’ is as much of a necessity to the female world as pure air is to the lungs.” There is no man in this country who can write a better poem, or compliment more neatly, than Anson G. Chester, Esq., of the Bufs falo ‘‘ Express.”

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182 PAPI AA GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. RAI AN Ener Tue Lawrence “ Sentinel’? makes the following cal- culation. Speaking of the November number, it says: “ The plate of ‘ Peace’ is worth twenty-five cents ; the remainder of the ‘ Book’ being all profit.” We have always said that our music alone was worth $3 each year; and the N. C. “Star” says: “Its music more than worth $3.” Here are $3 more gained. The Hamilton “‘ Organ’”’ says: “ No lady would be without the domestic receipts for $3.” MADAME SontTaGc.—What is the reason that the husbands of all great singers desert them immediately on their death? Is it because they can make no more money out of them? When Malibran died, De Beriot, her husband, took a post-chaise and left the place im- mediately. When Sontag died, her husband, Count Rossi, left at once; and the last news we have is that her body arrived at Vera Cruz from Mexico, by the common carrier’s conveyance, and, as a valuation has to be placed on every parcel to know what freight to charge, the package was valued at $200. When re- ceived at Vera Cruz, as there was no one to take charge of the body, it was placed in an obscure church, there to remain, we suppose,until some one claims it. This man Rossi, count as he is, was indebted to his wife for the very bread that he ate. What woman would so have deserted the remains of her husband? We learn since that the remains are waiting the con- sent of some captain to carry them to England; but, up to this date, not one has been found that will admit the body in his vessel. Ovr Fashion Editor has on hand some most beautiful patterns for netted anti-macassars, also collar patterns and crochet mats, which are too large for the * Book.” Twenty-five cents each. Tre Post-Orrice DeEPARTMENT.—We think this branch of our government owes us at least a vote of thanks. In the report of the head of the department, an increase of the postage receipts over last year is esti- mated, but no particular reason is given why it has inereased. We know the reason. If any person would stand at our desk for a week, and see the letters we receive, containing money and congratulations, they would not so much wonder; and we mention it now simply that the Postmaster-General, in his next report, may make mention of the cause. The newspaper no- tices are also legion. We intended to publish a few; but they are all so flattering that we are puzzled to make a selection. The January number seems to have surprised every one. Our EnGRrAvViINGs.—We have been particularly hap- py in our selections lately. What more appropriate subject for our Christmas month number than “ Praise God, from whom all blessings fow’’? What more fit- ting text could be chosen for such a season? “John Proclaiming the Messiah’’ was the next in succession. Two such plates have never before appeared in any magazine but the “Lady’s Book.” And, for variety, Vere is our little gem of the “ Image Merchant.” Mas. Have’s “Coox Boox” we will furnish at $1, and pay the postage. Mrs. Hale’s ‘“‘ Household Book” on the same terms. Every one of our lady subscribers ought to have both these books, and they would, if they knew their value. THE MORAL TREATMENT OF THE iNSANE.—For the past six years, our worthy fellow-citizen, the Rey. Ed- ward C. Jones, has been consecrating his energies to the moral amelioration of the insane patients at Block- ley Almshouse. During that period, nearly one thou- sand cases have demanded his attentive interest and consideration. In the establishment of libraries for their use, in forming classes for reading and vocal mif- sic, and in the stated ministrations of the chapel, he has toiled assiduously for their benefit. Nor have his labors been unproductive. In the harmony and order which pervade the department, and the increased average: of cures, he possesses the encouraging proof that his beneficent work has been owned by Heaven. We commend most cordially so philanthropic an effort, and hope that Mr. Jones may secure that patronage and support which an enlightened sense of duty would prompt in the case of all who would extend to the men- tally affected the blessed hopes and rich consolations of our common Christianity. HAR ORNAMENTS.—Ladies wishing hair made into bracelets, pins (which are very beautiful), necklaces, or ear-rings, can be accommodated by our Fashion Editor. A very large number of orders have recently been filled, and the articles have given great satisfac- tion. SeT OF SILVER.—We copy the fvllowing from the Lawrence (Mass.) “ Sentinel :’’ ““ We see it is proposed, and that very properly, for the ladies of the United States to present the proprietor, Mr. Godey, with a silver service, for his unceasing efforts during a quarter vf a century in conducting the ‘Lady’s Book.’ The project is certainly a good one, and we trust it will be carried out. It is but justice to say, however, in this connection, that Godey prefers, instead of the silver service, that each of his lady subscribers send him an additional one for the next volume commencing in January.” We add to the above, we do prefer the latter—that every lady should send us another subscriber. SOMETHING ENTIRELY NEW AGAIN IN THIS NuM- BER.— Making flowers out of wood-shavings. Certainly very cheap materials. Of course, the “ Lady’s Book” is the first to give it. Bropre has again favored us with a very beautiful article from his immense repository, No. 61 Canal Street, New York. , Miss WiLauR’s “ CrocnuEet-Boox.’’-—We have re- ceived a fresh supply of this work, and will furnish it to our subscribers for 25 cents. See advertisement on cover. PHALON, of New York, has sent us a bottle of his Paphian Lotion. Itis of no use tous. We are hand- some enough. But we have given it to a female friend to try. On receiving it, she observed : “ If it makes me handsomer, you may puff it well some months hence.” We shall see, and our readers shall be advised. Lapiges, LADIES, AND GENTLEMEN, TOO.—Always put town, county, and State in your letters. Don’t negiect this. You will save us a good deal of trouble if you will oaly do it.

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VALUE OF NEWSPAPERS AND PERIODICALS.—There is some talk at the present time about the value of various publications, arising from the sale of two Bos- ton papers at very high prices. No person has ever dreamed of making an offer for the “‘ Lady’s Book.” At the present time, there is not money enough stirring about to purchase it. It is our pride that the “ Lady’s Book” has never been bought or sold. It originated with the present proprietor, has been always published by him, and not a number has ever gone to press in twenty-five years that he has not been at his post to see that all was right. Money cannot buy it. WILL our subscribers think of back amounts; when remitting for the New Year? A most ImpupENT ReQueEstT.—The American Art- ists’ Union, New York, the direction of which is under tke charge of some one by the name of Holbrooke, sent us a circular, postage unpaid, asking us to insert the prospectus of his unlawful game, and offering the most munificent sum of $100 for six months. Our price is $100 per page for one month. “Tux ‘ Book’ stands upon its own merits, so that Godey is not obliged to offer a long and windy list of prizes for the sake of obtaining subscribers.””’ Much obliged to you for that, friend of the “ Social Visitor.” We do stand upon our own merits, and have nothing to do with “ prizes.” Our fashion editor will furnish any of the following at the prices affixed :— Ladies’ Cloaks, - - = $110 do. Mantles, - . ~ 56 do. Full Dresses, - - 137% do. Basques, - ~ - 75 do. Dress Bodies, - - 15 do. Sleeves, - - - 31 do. Aprons, es eee! 31 Children’s Dresses, . - - 56 to $i 10 do. Basques, - - - 66 do. Paltots, - - - 56 do. Jackets, - - - 31 to 56 do. Over-Coats, les 56 do. Pants, - - - - 31 do. Aprons, ?- 31 cut in Tissue paper, and trimmed as to be made, or any of the patterns of cloaks in this or any other number of the “ Book.” Mr. W. Simmons, Box 100, Washington, Daviess Co., Ind., proposes, on receipt of twenty-five cents, to convey a new discovery, which he calls the “ Magic Telegraph,” as follows: “ To all wishing to avail them- selves of the knowledge of a beautiful art—that of writing an invisible letter which may be rendered visible at will, and subsequently to disappear again—the oppor- tunity is offered. Full and plain instructions will be sent to enable any persons to write a secret letter that no one is able to read or detect, except their writers and their correspondents themselves.” The editor of the Washington “Sun” says: “ This 1s no humbug, as you can easily ascertain. We have seen it tried, and it operates like a charm.” “How TO MAKE A Dress.”’—We can now send this work to all who have ordered it, our new edition being ready. Price 25 cents. GODEY’S ARM-CHAIR. ; 183 ANTIDOTE FOR STRYCHNINE.—Camphor has been discovered to be an antidote for that terrible poison, strychnine. A man who had been thrown into convul- sions by two doses of the poison—one-sixth of a grain each, administered for the rheumatism—was relieved by twenty grains of camphor, taken in six grains of almond mixture. Dr. Suddock, in a letter to the Lon- don “ Lancet,”’ claims te have made the discovery. CoRRECTION.—Page 61 of January number, in de- scription of the ‘‘ Empress Pardessus,” sixth line of the second paragraph, for flush read plush. WHaT FARMERS MIGHT DO.—One of our paper- makers, speaking of the scarcity of rags, writes thus: “Tf our people would only raise flax, instead of import- ing their linseed and oil for their own use, we should soon have paper stock in abundance. Those farmers in this county who raised flax this year, have sold their crops, standing in the field, at $40 per acre, and some get more than that.” Any of our subscribers having the numbers-of the year 1846, or a bound volume that they do not want, can have the numbers for 1855 sent them in exchange, or we will pay $3 for it. “ THe NurseRY BASKET: a Hand-Book of Practical Directions for Young Mothers; including the prepara- tion for a young infant’s wardrobe; the choice and making-up the child’s bath; out-of-door dress ; worsted knitting; flannel ; embroidery ; the clothes of older chil- dren, etc. ete. With engravings.” Price, 50 cents. Please address all orders to the publisher of “ Lady’s Book’’ for this most desirable and useful work for all young mothers. Mrs. HALce is not the Fashion Editor of the “ Lady’s Book.’”?> We may also state that, when an order is re- ceived for the fashion department, it is handed to the editor of that department, who does not know, nor do we, whether the sender is a subscriber or not to the “ Book ;” and, moreover, she will not send an article until she receives the cash. She can’t keep books even by single entry. We mention this statement, because some of our old subscribers have been offended because goods were not sent on credit. ARTHUR’s HOME MAGAZINE AND ARTHUR’S HOME GAZETTE.—We call attention to these two publications. The Gazette is the best and purest weekly family paper we have, and the Magazine is only second to the “‘ Lady’s Book.’? We will send the “‘ Lady’s Book,” and either the Gazette or Magazine, one year for $3 50. WHEN a couple have been married twenty-five years, they have a second wedding, termed the “ silver wed- ding ;*? when fifty years have expired, the “gold wed- ding.” The Minersville “ Bulletin” thinks that, as we have published the “ Book” twenty-five years, there should be a jubilee, and each one try and send us an- other subscriber. We vote “ ay’ upon that question. “We have received the following letter from one who sent us some hair to be set in a pin: “I thank you heartily for the beautiful pin you have sent me. I have now always before me a memento that is more precious than gold. I knew not before that hair could be worked into so beautiful a device.”

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184 We think our subscribers will like our present me- thod of publishing the “‘ Acting Charades,” without the title. If our readers do not care to act them, let some person read them aloud, and the hearer guess the title. We have amused ourselves in that way with them. “ We see that it has been suggested that the ladies, for whose especial gratification he gets up 80 superb a magazine, should make him a handsome present as a token of appreciation. It is a good idea, and something of the kind should be done; at least, every lady who takes his ‘ Book’ might send him the name of one sub- scriber as a personal, and, at the same time, most sub- stantial compliment. We have the word of our own better half, at least, that Godey’s ‘ Lady’s Book’ has become almost an indispensable luxury.” We take the above from the Texas “ Inquirer.” It is precisely our own idea of what kind of present we would like. Those “ better halves,” we think, we are fre- quently indebted to for a notice of the “‘ Book.”” They seem to have taken it under their own special pro- tection. THE engravings are superb. “ ‘ Bless God, from whom all blessings flow,’ is as fine a line engraving as we ever saw, not even excelled by any of the “ premium plates.’” It is not our saying, but that of the Logan * Sentinel.”’ We should like everybody to look upon us at this present moment, and see by the expression of our countenance the indignation that is mantling there; and who would not be indignant at such a paragraph? “The magazine has grown gray in the service of the ladies.” Said by one, too, that has known us so long— our much beloved Brutus. From any other hands we might have borne it. No, friend Madison “ Visitor,” we may grow gray, but the magazine never. The king, it is said, never dies. The “‘ Lady’s Book” can never grow gray. “THe Prive or Lire.” By Lady Scott. Published by Long & Brother, New York.—The foreign papers speak very highly of this publication :— ** A book of rare merits. Superior to most novels of the day.”—London Quarterly. There is no mock sentimentality in this book. All is fresh, lively, and vigorous. The humor is genuine; the pathos such as is met with in real life.”—Dublin University Magazine. “Such a book as we seldom meet with in these days of morbid sentimentality. True to life and natural throughout.” —Edinburgh Review. “We took the book home with us and read it to the end at one sitting. We could not lay it aside.’’—Spect’r. “ Written in elegant language, and abounding in natural feeling.” —Spectator. “ The gifted authoress has a good perception of cha- racter.”—Morning Herald. “ We don’t know when we have read a work of such Mterest.’’—London Times. PHILADELPHIA AGENCY. No order attended to unless the cash accompanies it. All persons requiring answers by mail must send a post-office stamp. The beautiful patterns from Harrisburg received, and the sender will please accept our thanks. It may be same months before they appear; but they will be pub- lished, for they are so pretty. GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE. PPD “A Subseriber,” Pontotoc.—On either arm; there is no rule. “ Miss E. R.”°—The “ Lady’s Book”’ is the text-book ; no other work is considered as authority in this part of the world. We could fill our “ Book” every month with complimentary letters. “ M. 8. S."’—Sent patterns 16th. “S$. F. L.’—Sent patterns 16th. ‘“ Mrs. R. V. M.”.—Sent Mrs. Hale’s “ Bible Reading- Book’? 16th. “ Miss A. M. O.”—~Sent hair breast-pin 17th. “Mrs. L. O. 8.°—Sent shawl by Kinsley’s Express 17th. “ Mits. S. A.”—Sent children’s clothes by Adams’s Express ‘17th. “§, J. T."—Sent gold pencil, Rapp’s, 18th. “ Mrs. J. F. W.”—Sent patterns 18th. “Miss W. O.’’—Sent worsted 18th. “J, A.”—Sent patterns 18th. “G. B. S..’—Sent patterns 18th. “O, 8.’—Sent work-box 18th. “Miss M. H.”—Sent bonnet by Adams’s Express 18th. “M. K. L.”—Crochet is pronounced as if spelled Kro-shay; accent on the first syllable. Steel crochet- needles $1, ivory 374 cents. Send you Lippincott’s; cannot get the others. “Mrs. L. R. B.’—Sent worsted by Harnden’s Ex- press 20th. “ Mrs. W. F. J..—Sent shawl by Kinsley’s Express 21st. “ Mrs. N. B.”’—Sent patterns 22d. * Miss J. C.”—Sent patterns 22d. “ Miss F. E. O. W.”—Sent patterns 24th. “ Mrs. M.S. O.”"—Sent Mrs. Hale’s “ Bible Reading- Book” 24th. “Miss H.”—Sent “ Winter-Book of Crochet Pat- terns” 24th. A correspondent wishes to ascertain if there is any method of preparing shells to look like mother-of-pearl. “ Miss H. S.”°—Sent box by Adams’s Express 26th. “ Miss E. C. L.”—Sent drygoods by mail 25th. “Mrs. F. W. G.”’—Sent patterns 27th. “ Nellie H. B.”"—See “ Acting Charades’? now being published in “ Lady’s Book.” They have taken the place of tableaux. For the getting up of the latter, take some picture from the “ Lady’s Book,” and copy it as exactly as possible. Form a frame, and let the light be inside the frame, and not visible to the audience. “Mrs. M. R. W.”—Sent patterns 27th. * Miss E. R H.”’—Sent silk by mail 27th. “J, C. E.’—Sent Condor Rapp’s pen 27th. “ Miss T. E.”*=Sent hair rings 29th. “Mrs. M. J. H.”—Sent patterns 29th. “ Miss E. C. L.”"—Sent drygoods by mail 29th. “Miss N. O. A.”—Perfectly admissible in any com- pany. “ Mrs. H. E. F.”—Sent patterns 30th. “ Mrs. S. M.”*—Sent patterns 30th. “Mrs. A. O. T.’’—Sent patterns Ist. “Mrs. C. H. S.”—Sent patterns Ist. “Mrs. R. T. O.”°—Sent Rapp’s pen Ist. If “ Maggie,” of Riqua, O., wants to know our opin- ion about dancing, she must learn to pay postage on her letters. If it is not worth three cents for her to know, it certainly is not worth five to us to tell her. “ Miss J. T. C."—Sent hair-pin 4th. “Mrs. L. D. P.”*—Sent sleeve pattern 4th. “ Miss K. T.’°—Sent chart and patterns 6th.

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CENTRE-TABLE GOSSIP. “Mrs. E. T. G.”"—Sent patterns and book 6th. “M. E. B.”’—Sent patterns on 6th. “ Miss E. M.”—Sent patterns on the 6th. “Mary and Bertha.”—Do you mean that I should print them on such paper that you might color them in the “ Book” yourselves? “ Mrs. E. F.”.—Sent children’s clothes by Adams & Co. 8th. “ Miss J, C.”°—Sent your collars on the 9th. “Mrs. L. O. M.”—Sent cloak 9th. “Miss H. P.”-—Sent cuffs and collars 9th. “Mrs. R. M.”*—Sent headdresses 9th. “M. A.”—Sent bonnet by Adams & Co. 9th. “ Mrs. C. W.”—Sent patterns and trimmings 11th. * Mrs. J. W. T.’°—Sent patterns 11th. “J. D. H.”—Must apply to some agricultural paper about cultivating cranberries. “Miss A. J. W.”—Sent Rapp’s pen 12th. “ Miss E. A. W.’’—Sent Rapp’s pen 12th. “T. H. P.”\—Sent collars and Rapp’s pen on the 12th. “ The wicked borroweth and payeth not again.” MORE papers coming into the resolution not to lend the “ Book,” and we thank them. The N. Y. “ Morn- ing Star” says: “ We do not lend our numbers.”? The Towa “ Courier:’? “ We don’t lend our copy, friend yodey. We don’t believe in cheating the printer in that way.”” The Alabama “ Bulletin: “But Godey eomplains of the borrowing system, and well he may. Persons that are too stingy to pay for his ‘ Book’ ought not to find time to read borrowed numbers. And now we give fair notice that our numbers are not to LEND.” The Sycamore “ Sentinel” says: “ Ladies, you that take the ‘ Book,’ do not lend it to any of your neighbors that don’t take it, and thereby deprive Godey of his just The Boonville “ Missourian” says: “ We shall It is dues.” peremptorily refuse to lend the ‘ Book’ hereafter. worth ten times what it costs to any lady.”’ A COMPLAINT TO THE LADIES OF GALLIN, TENN. —The editor of the “ Tenth Legion” says, after wonder- ing why so few copies were taken in his place: “ Our number is always on the run from house to house, from gtreet to street, chamber to chamber, until we are fre- quently under the necessity of contenting ourselves with the mere verbal relation of its much sought for contents.””» Why, man, you furnish the answer to your own inquiry. If you will lend, they won’t subscribe. It were better for us to stop sending to you. Centre-Table Gossip. HOUSE-HIRING AND FURNISHING. Tris has before been a topic of our club’s gossip, but we have recently received a somewhat different request upon the same subject. Fortunately, it is one of which ladies never tire. To go on then with our correspond- ent’s inquiries. The present favorite plan of New York dwelling- houses are built with what is sometimes called “‘a Lon- don basement.’? The ground-floor is even with the atreet, not below it, and is, of course, much more cheer- ful than in the old style. This allows a vestibule, handsome hall and staircase, library or sitting-roam in 16* LLLP Llp Pe trac Onn ns 185 front; a large dining-room the width of the house, china closet, store-room, and closet for sink and dumb-waiter, are back of this. On the second or “drawing-room floor” is the square hall into which the staircase ascends, dividing the back and front parlors. As there are usually glass sliding doors to each, and the whole floor is carpeted alike, a handsome suite of three rooms is formed when desired. Up stairs again are two fine chambers, with small dressing-rooms attached; bath-room, linen-closet, ete. The servants’ rooms, and sometimes one or more good chambers are usually on the fourth floor. The base- ment is occupied by cellars, furnace, and large airy kitchen. In renting a house, if one cannot afford to build, the agreement with the lardlord should be clearly under- stood, and all liabilities as to taxes, local rates, house repairs, with charges for fixtures, etc., inquired into, and definitely anged before the agreement is signed, It sometimes happens that the chief rooms are not pepered and painted until the house is let. In such case, the incoming tenant generally has the power of choosing the papers, or panellings, and paint. He wal, of course, select such as will best harmonize with the color which the furniture and hangings should have. Having taken our house, it generally wants a thorough cleaning and airing. The former may sometimes be got out of the landlord; the latter must always be done by the tenant; and in spring, autumn, and winter, fires should be kept for three or four days, according to the time the house has been empty, and to the repairs it has undergone during that interval; for, of course, nobody takes a house in the state of dirt and disrepair in which it is usually left by an out-going tenant, or if they do so, under the notion that the landlord will set it all to rights after they are in, they will find out their mistake, and repent their confidence. The present style of furniture, with a rough estimate of cost, will form the subject of a separate article, not wishing to be tiresome to those who do not have the matter deeply at heart. MODERN DAMASCUS. ITS HOMES AND HOUSEHOLDS. Tne lovers of “ Arabian Nights” will find the follow- ing description almost as captivat.ng: “ Wealth hides itself in the East behind dirty walls. Open one of those rough and unpolished wooden doors, and your admira- tion will be great. Here is a spacious quadrangle paved with marble; a splashing fountain in the midst, alive with gold fish, and bordered by pretty flowers. An arcade surrounded by elegant columns runs round three sides; on the fourth are the lower apartments of the house. Arabic inscriptions—texts from Scripture or the Koran; for the manners of the Christian inhabitants, except in so far as their religion directly influences them, are a direct In most ecourt-yards grow The cornice is ornamented with copy of those of the Moslems. orange and lemon-trees, with roses and dwarf gerani- ums round their roots, in little beds edged with marble. “ Let us enter the Mistaba. Two trellised windows overlook a spacious fruit-garden behind the house. The floor is of marble, but hid by a carpet; the divan ig covered with velvet; pretty ornaments are disposed here and there. Everything invites you to recline and sip a cup of coffee, or lazily taste one of their saucers of perfumed and candied sweetmeats. There is a bub- bling sound in the adjoining room. Some cue learned

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in the enjoyments of life is slowly inhaling a narghileb. The fragrance fills the air. You are allured thither, and having refreshed your mouth by a glass of lemon- ade, you dream away, and luxuriously acknowledge that Damascus is indeed a delightful place. “ The ladies are ungraceful enough in the streets, too, as they are all over the East; but if they deign to lay aside the izar and the odious black handkerchief—Mashal- lah, how lovely! Beautiful dark eyes; eyelashes, eye- brows, hair, all black; Grecian noses; red, but slightly pouting lips; dimpled chin, oval face, rosy complexion —all the elements of an Eastern houri are there. The figure, almost always good, is admirably set off by the fostume adopted. On the head the maiden wears a small red cap, encircled by a handsomely flowered handkerchief, over which strings of pearls and pieces of small gold money are tastefully arranged in festoons. In the centre of the red cap is a diamond crescent, from which hangs a long golden cord, with a blue silk band usually ornamented with pearls. The vest fits tight, and admirably displays the unlaced figure. In sum- mer, this vest is of blue or pink satin, bordered and inged with gold lace; in winter, of cloth edged with fur. Over the vest is worn a short gray jacket, chastely embroidered with silk braid. Then there is the elegant shawl with the long lappets, and the large loose trou- sers. No wonder that Mr. Risk was enchanted, and remained disposed rather to exalt the costume of East- ern women as compared with that of their Western sisters. In another page, it is true, he no longer exa¥s the advantages of the veil, and speaks of its abandon- ment as a sign of civilization; but this is evidently a concession to our prejudices. He has remained an Eastern in heart; and exerts all his cleverness to just- ify his preference. He even tries to persuade us that love-marriages do occur; the opportunity for their occurrence being, that upto the age of ten or eleven, girls are visible by their future husbands.” HEART’S-EASE. AmonG all the recent publications of new novels, the one we would choose above all others for reading aloud at the centre-table, is “‘ Heart’s-ease, or The Brother’s Wife.”’ It is by the author of “ The Heir of Radcliff,” as many doubtless know; but it is far beyond it in artistic merit and domestic interest. The home- ecenes are good and pure, and the shadowing forth of the quiet influence and great responsibility of wife, sister, mother, and friend, is so delicately done, as to be the pervading, yet never intruding spirit of the whole. It is refreshing and strengthening, in these days of “ quack novels” and advertising, to meet a book that makes its way so silently yet surely into the heart. We might multiply quotations, but one will suffice, leaving the interest of the story untouched :— “T have been thinking how kindly that sentence is framed: ‘Casting ali your cares upon him;’ all, as if we might have been afraid to lay before him our petty perplexities. It is the knowing that we are eared for in detail that is the comfort; and that when we have honestly done our best in little things, our Father will bess them, and fill up our shortcomings. ~ That dress-maker must have been a happy woman, who never took home her work without praying that it might fit. I always liked that story, particularly as it ehows how the practical life, in the most trivial round, ean be united with—thus casting our care on Him—the being busy in our station with choosing the geod part. ewes es GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE.

PPA APE AA AAAI AR AAA I suppose it is as a child may do its work in a manufac< tory, not concerning itself for the rest; or a coral worm make its own cell, not knowing what branches it is helping to form, or what an island it is raising. What a mercy that we have only to try to do right from moment to moment, and not meddle with the future!” MUSICAL PRACTICE.—No. 2. WE have presupposed, in our lecture of last manth, a young lady with that share of musical instruction which is the common lot of a returned boarding-school girl, who has not had the advantages of really good teachers and models. She wishes to advance, but can scarcely make out a page in tolerably difficult key by herself, and it takes so long to learn a‘piece, that she is tired of it before she can play it for any one else. This dissatisfaction with herself is in general a good symptom; she is not going to content herself with a trivial polka or quickstep, by no one knows who, and the popular negro melodies. She has a desire to read music more readily, and to conquer moderate difficulties of instrumentation. She must then go back to first principles. It is no disgrace to return to the instruction- book. We should advise Bertrni’s, if she can afford it, as the most gradual solver of difficulties, and the most comprehensive. If she can command nothing more, the exercises and scales of Hertz are invaluable. Any large city establishment will furnish them by mail. Even the first of the five collections under this name, thoroughly practised, will do wonders in strengthening the hand and giving smoothness and ease of execution. Exercises are for the musician what a grammar is for the linguist; the more thoroughly they are practised and studied, the easier will be after progress. For a year, at least, from half an hour to an hour a day should be given to these dry rudiments of the musical language, if you wish to become a graceful and correct interpreter. Let the time set apart, whether longer or shorter, be regularly observed ; a fitful, irregular practice is almost worse than none. It discourages more than it aids. Ten minutes a day, regularly persevered in, will co more at the end of six months than two full hours occa- sionally snatched from other engagements. Do not be impatient of slow results ; there is “no reyal road” in music, above all other pursuits. Think of the years upon years devoted to hard practice by profes- sional artists. Do not be satisfied with passing over difficullies for an- other time ; conquer them at once, or your style will be full of inaccuracies and alterations, which would mar the most brilliant execution. Besides, small difficulties will accumulate to impassable barriers, if neglectec. We have heard of a celebrated cantatrice who gave a whole morning to the study of one musical phrase three or four bars in length. Do not attempt too difficult music at first ; no one could expect to solve the difficulties of the Fourth Book of “ Eneclid’’ who broke down on the pons Assinorum, or to read Virgil, who stumbled in construing “terra est rotunda.”’ TO CORRESPONDENTS. “Mappy’’ is not yet prepared to be an economical housekeeper, we fear. Her sister isquiteright. Bills of anything purchased should be required, properly made

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FASHIONS. out, and receipted. These bills, filed and endorsed with name and date, do not take up much room, and save & world of trouble. We know of one prominent establish- ment that seems to make a point of sending bills twice over, and unless the receipt of the first is kept, trouble ensues. Never pay @ gross amount without looking over the items; overcharges are often made from care- lessness of bookkeepers, and many a dollar is saved, by seeing these corrected, in the course of a year. If Miss Madeline concludes to follow her sister’s advice, and keep a personal expense book, we should advise her to take as a motto for it: “A penny saved is twopence got.” e “ Mrs. L.””—We think there will be a decided change in the Spring mantillas; will forward patterns as re- quested as soon as they appear, probably a month before the regular openings, as we have made arrangements to that effect. “Au Desesporr.”—French chalk. It is the best stand-by after all, but should be carefully brushed out when the grease is extracted. * Miss T. W. H.”*—In calling on a friend who has a visitor in the house, it is proper to ask for the stranger. If she is out, leave a card for her, that she may return the call with her hostess. In paying a first call, or where you have never met the lady, let the servant pre- cede you with your card, or an awkward self-introduc- tion would be the inevitable result. Plain, unglazed eards, of a rather large size, still. continue the style. “ GeonrGte J.”"—See “ Godey’s Lessons in Drawing.” As regards the principle of light, shadow, and reflection, for solid objects, it may be studied by a very simple process. Select a white globe—a billiard ball will answer the purpose; place it in a room in which there is one window; then turn it in different lights, and it will be observed that there is only cne part of it which ean be represented perfectly white, the other rays, strik- ing obliquely upon a receding surface, fall at last into perfect shadow, and the globe is only relieved by the re- flection of surrounding objects on the opposite side. An oval may be represented by an egg; a cone by rolling up paper in the form of anextinguisher. It is by these simple modelg that the pupil can readily study all the general principles of shadowing. The same principles of light and shade are applicable to each study of the art; sim- plicity is one of the leading characteristics of beauty in every object for the study of a young artist. “Mrs. 8.,” of Rose Lawn.—Gutta-percha labels for plants and shrubs, stamped with the name, have been recently introduced. They obviate the difficulty men- taoned. “ & COLLECTOR.’’—Sea-weeds must all be soaked in large quantities of fresh water, so as to extract the salt before they are laid down to dry. If you have not time to examine and lay them down while at the seaside, nothing more should be done than allowing them to dry moderately in the open air, and tying them up loosely in strong brown paper. They may thus be carried with- eut injury to any distance; and when macerated in fresh water, will expand as fully as before. “* BLANDINE” will find a continuation of the articles in Centre-Table Gossip. “Mrs. HALrY’s BIBLE READER.’’—Just the thing for industrial schools, and we particularly recommend it for the nursery. Its selevtions cannot fail to interest chil- dren in Bible history. The print and binding make it a suitable gift-bock, though there is nothing showy or tawdry about it. PPA OO 187 es eee Fashions. NOTICE TO LADY SUBSCRIBERS, Havine had frequent applications for the purchase of jewelry, millinery, etc., by ladies living at a distance, the Editress of the Fashion Department will hereafter execute commissions for any who may desire it, with the charge of a small percentage for the time and re- search required. Bridal wardrobes, spring and autumn bonnets, dresses, jewelry, bridal cards, cake-boxes, envelopes, hair-work, worsteds, children’s wardrobes, Rapp’s gold pens, mantillas, and mantelets, will be chosen with a view to economy, as well as taste; and boxes or packages forwarded by express to any part of the country. For the last, distinct directions must be given. Orders, accompanied by checks for the proposed expendi- ture, to be addressed to the care of L. A. Godey, Esq. No order will be attended to unless the money is first received. Neither the Editor nor Publisher will be ao countable for losses that may occur in remitting. Instructions to be as minute as is possible, accompa- nied by a note of the height, complexion, and general style of the person, on which much depends in choice. DESCRIPTION OF FASHION-PLATE, Fig. 1st.—Dress of pale primrose taffeta, a shade that is often called straw color, and one of the favorites for evening wear. The skirt has a deep puffed flouncing of white tulle, commenced six inches above the hem, and continued almost to the waist. This is fastened by knots of primroses without foliage. The corsage and sleeves are trimmed with puffings to correspond. Hair arranged in a rolled bandeau around the back of the head, mixed with ribbons a bright royal blue. Fig. 2d.—Robe of white silk, with flounces woven in a showy pattern of embroidery. The same executed by the needle would be twice the cost. A raised blue satin stripe in festoons completes the design. Plain corsage, with draped berihé of the same, edged by a handsome fall of blonde; full sleeves, trimmed with double row of blonde; a ribbon to correspond with the border of the flounces is disposed across the berthé and on the sleeves. Hair in fnll waved bandeaux, with a tiara in wrought gold across the forehead, and plume of ostrich feathers disposed on the left side. MOURNING. MoURNING ATTIRE TO BE WORN BY A SISTER.— Mourning dress of plain mousseline-de-laine, buttoned up to the throat; plain linen collar and cuffs. Drnner-DreEss.—Black silk, with folds of crape on body and skirt, or Bayadére robe dress; fluted collar and undersleeves, jet pin, ear-rings, and bracelets. WaALKING-Dress.—Black berége robe dress; black silk mantle, rimmed with ribbon and crape. Bonnet made of crape and silk; black kid gloves; white or black illusion chemisette and undersleeves; black parasol. ATTIRE FOR A GRANDMOTHER.—Morning-dfess of Parametta or Spanish cloth, with robings of crape; crape collar and sleeves. DinneR-Dress.—Dress of black Tamise, trimmed with crape; white collar and sleeves; plain illusion cap. WaLgineG-Daress.—A drawn silk bonnet: mantle uf

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188 _oane a ~ a gros royal; black kid gloves; black parasol; jet brooch, chain, and pins. CHITCHAT UPON NEW YORK AND PHILA- DELPHIA FASHIONS FOR FEBRUARY. Every one being supplied with winter bonnets and wraps, the invention of fashionable mantuamakers and the purchases of their customers are chiefly confined to evening dress. It is, indeed, the height of the party- going season, and, notwithstanding the cry of “ hard times,” and the warnings of almost daily commercial crashes, invitations are given and accepted, shopping and preparations still go on. There never was a time since we assumed the pleasant task of fashion reporter for the “ Lady’s Book”—more years than a fashionable belle would care to own—when the luxuries of life, particularly of dress, were so within the reach of mode- rate means. The very failures we have alluded to, and the consequent sacrifices of “stock on hand,” have been the cause of this, and we have before noticed how cheaply silks are afforded. Laces and embroideries, curtains, carpets, and furniture, are the past and pre- sent month included in the list. For matrons and young married ladies, rich stuffs, such as moire, taffetas, etc., are worn as evening dress. The stripes and blacks, of alternate moire and velvet, or satin and taffeta, in high contrasting colors, are very much in favor. Gold and white, white and rose, blue, or cherry color, have a brilliant evening effect. Moires of crimson, wine color, or of either mixed with black, are yery becoming to blundes. They are usually made very full and plain, relieved by blonde, Honiton, or any rich lace berthé and sleeves. To flounce so heavy a material except with lace, would be “ painting the lily.” Taffetas are flounced with the same, and generally come in robes, with the flounces bordered by a pattern in bright contrasting colors, or the same, or a darker shade of the same in raised velvet or satin. Black is used as a contrast to everything, and black velvet rib- bon may be used safely on any article of dress, or with any color—cloak, dress, or bonnet—brown, red, green, orblue. It was never so universally applied, from the broadest bands to the narrowest ribbon. Among the most costly evening-dressea, we notice one of pink therry or royal velvet; there was no trim- ming on the skirt, the corsage was low and pointed, with revers or folds from the shoulder to the point, of pink satin, edged by Honiton lace about an inch wide, set on plain; the sleeves were trimmed in the same way. In the hair were sprays of white acacia; brooch and bracelet of pearls. The whole dress was exceed- ingly rich, at the same time in perfect taste. Another, intended for an older lady, was of black and green striped silk, the sleeves in the Louis XVI. style, tight in the upper part, shaped slightly to the elLow, where they are terminated by a deep frill; above this are two narrow frills, edyed by blaak lace, raised by two bows of ribbon with flowing ends. Some very magnificent bridal dresses have recently been made for two fashionable weddings. The first was of white satin, having the skirt almost entirely covered by a very deep flounce of Honiton lace, headed ‘v a very narrow frill of the same. The corsage is high, and fastened by pendent buttons formed of dia- mouus or rock crystal. The sleeves, which are com- posed of small puffings separated by frills of lace, are close at the wrist, and terminated by a revers, or turned- up cuff of Honiton iace. A rich Hoaiton lace collar GODEY’S LADY’S BOOK AND MAGAZINE, falls over the upper part of the corsage. A bouquet, consisting of full-blown white azaleas and orange- blossom, is fixed at the point in front of the waist by a bow of satin ribbon with long flowing ends. In the hair, a wreath of azaleas and orange-blossom. Bridal veil of lace. White kid gloves, fastened by double but- tons in rock crystal. White satin shoes. The other was of white moire antique, with thyee flounces of the most beautiful Honiton lace, each about a quarter of a yard deep. The flounces are placed over a trimming of tulle fastened to the skirt, and consisting of bouillonnés im sets of four or five; each of these sets is of the game depth as the fSunce which it supports, and thus assists materially in showing off the beauty of the lace. The corsage is high, and fastened up the front by pearl buttons. A bow of white moire ribbon, placed at the lower part of the corsage in front of the waist, fixes the bridal bouquet, which consists of fuchsias made of white velvet, and orange-blossoms made of organdi. The bridal veil of Honiton lace is attached by a coiffure of white ostrich feathers and foliage in white crape. Of course, these were intended for grand full-dress receptions ; plainer dresses of less expensive white silk, with blonde or illusion veils and trimmings, are the usual style this winter. Among the newest wedding bonnets, we have seen one cormposed of white blonde, and trimmed with two small plumes of ostrich feathers. In the inside the trimming consists of a wreath of jasmine, mignonette, and honeysuckle. This wreath passes over the top of the bandeaur, and forms bouquets at the sides. An- other bonnet is of white therry velvet, ornamented with applications of blonde. White flowers, small tufts of marabout and blonde, form the inside trimming. Among the new wreaths for the hair, the Astor is one of the prettiest and lightest; it is made in feathers, with crape foliage. Wreaths of camilla, clematis, honeysuckle, and mignonette, are also very pretty and suitable for young persons. The new bridal wreaths have orahge-flowers, of course, mixed with either lily of the valley, white carnation, jasmine, or clematis. The bache given in our‘ Novelties for February” is very much in favor for married ladies, whether young or old. They come of blonde, Maltese, Honiton, white or black Brussels lace. The last are perhaps the most elegant. They may be worn either plain, as in the cut, or looped back by flowers or ribbon. They should be disposed at the back of the head, over the comb and braid, falling towards the shoulder; the front hair in full puds, bandeaux, or curls. We give, in conclusion, two walking-dresses, rather plainer than the usual style this winter. The first is extremely elegant, at the same time being a silk com- bined of reps and moire antique, in stripes; the last a bright royal blue, the reps of fawn, checked with black. The skirt perfectly plain; the basque in jacket style, edged with silk in colors to correspond with the dreas. The sleeves are demi-long, with two broad frills, one above, the other below the elbow, edged with the same fringe. The other is a walking-dress for a young lady, of cinnamon-brown merino, the skirt very full and plain. Jacket corsage, the basque being very long, and edged with a broad band of black velvet; sleeves loose, with turned-up cuffs of black velvet; full undersleeves of Nansook, and a deep Puritan coliar—that is, with plain, deep hem, done in open stitch. This is at once simple and stylish. FAsHion.

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4i}'4 i Pilinie me ri ) Ha) wa At. THE ALMA. {From the establishment of G. Bropie, 51 Canal Street, New York. Dt articles of costume. ] yawn by L. T. VoreT, from actual WE present to our readers this month the incomparable garment which Mr. Brodie has furnished for oug “ Book,” assured, as we are by him, that, in addition to its admirable style, it is far in advence of its season. The chaste character of its fashion, the elegance of its trimming, and the richness of its material, combine a tout ensemble of exceeding beauty. The upper portion is a deep yoke descending to a level with the elbows. This in front is continued in a pelerine, and forms the front tabs of the cloak, falling with but sufficient drapery to insure gracefulness and ease to the person. Upon this is box-plaited the skirt with ample drapery, which rounds fairly over the arms, and thus forms the flaps which cover them. The trimming is black ostrich feathers, graduated in width in the manner seen in the engraving. The material of the cloak (velvet) is thus admirably contrasted with the plumage which adorns it. Altogether, we regard it as the most beau- tiful of any we have met with of this class of garments. 17* 197

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