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V K 11 E . X OKN UNA I. STOKY : ittca fT The farmer an.l Median c, DV W S SADIK B. CANNON. M 1 CIIA1TEU I. "And now I will gather my roses Anl twine in my long braided hair, And Willie willcouie In the evening And srnili when he see me so lair . Out rang the pure sweet voice and suitin" her actions to the words, ere Herbert stoojd, and plucking a pale blush-rose placed it among the braid of golden-brown hair that framed the oval of her sweet, ilowcrdike face with its cream v complexion, tender woman's mouth and great laughter loving eyes. AVomlrously fair she Jooked.standingin the old garden with the dying light of the June sunset lingering about her. rI he click of the latch made her turn suddenly, and gathering the dainty fold of her blue dress about her she" ran swiftly down the walk. , , . , Why 2 titer, what brings you home b0 " she stopped suddenly, startled by the wan, haggard face her father turned toward her. She never re membered seeing him look like this but once before, and that was ten long years ago when he had taken her. a child scarcely eight years old, in his arms and carried her to press her last kiss upon the death-cold lips of her dead mother. "Father, father, what is the matter.' He took her upturned face between his hands and gazed sadly ami tenderly at her for a moment, then letting his hands fall at his side, he turned away with a bitter groan. 4t Father, speak to me; are you ill "Yes, sick at heart! Oh my poor child, my poor child, that I should have lived to see this day ! You whom 1 have guarded so from care or want, that you should be brought this! I could have borne it for myself, but for you oh my God!" and sinking on a rustic seat the man covered his face with his hands. Father, what is it? Tell mo what it is you dread for me ; 1 can bear it if you can," and her arm fell lovingly upon his shoulder. Slowly he raised his head Vere, I am ruined.' You know I was security for a friend for a large amount, the money is due and I am un ible to pay it everything will be sold and we will be jxnnilcssr For a moment the girl stood still dazed and horrified ; it seemed like a dream she, the heiress of thousands this mornina beggar at sunset ? But one irlance at her father told her it was no dream. In a moment self was forgotten.and winding her arms about him, she drew the gray head to her shoulder saying softly, "My poor father!" The pent up emotions of the man s heart broke lorth and throwing his arms about her, he burst into hoarse ...t;.t..t (ientlv. as if he were fiitiu. . l.ihl she soothed him till the storm of grief was over, then sitting ing eyes fixed on the wall, her hands lieside him in the last beams which had clasped convulsively. She could not risen upon her an heiress, Vere heard weep, her tears seemed frozen in their her fathers story and how at its setting beds, she tried to pray but the words that sun left her penniless. died on her stifT white lips, so there " Ynd now Vere, how shall I ever she lay in her silent, despairing grief tell mv wife?" and his hands clutched while tho moon climbed slowly up the .i-t-.u'wU- dark blue heavens and dropt to its set lie i wUoi l -.-rrti -, , , , " I will break it to her ; come, the ting. Toward morning she sank into sooner it is done the better." a kind of stupor from which she was "My noble girl, how bravely you aroused by a loud knocking at her I....,- it i ' ii.i l'nsi'i ner itnuer v uuu i drawing her arm through his, they I .1 - lb . . -. ; walked slowly up the broad gravel walk leading to what was but yester .i.iv tliMir beautiful home. A Deal of childish laughter broke upon the air uml two children, aged ten and twelve till VA v v 7 , ,, Bpraiv down th steps and bounded iwayacross the lawn. Mr. Herbert looked after them mournfully. "They, at least are safe, Vere, your step-mother's property is settled on her and your step-sistera so the credi- tors cannot toucli that; you and I are the only sutferers." " "Thank uou; answered mo gin ler- vently. On a lounge in the library they found Mrs. Herbert, a delicate worldly wo man whose great redeeming virtue was her love lor her indulgent hus band and her two children by a for mer marriage. Placing her father in a chair, Vere went and kneeling down at her step-mother's side, broke to her, that threatened her, she devoted her as ently as her own aching heart self to her father, watching his every would admit, me news ot lier lather s failure, then leaving them together she went back to the garden to be alone with her own sad thoughts. She gazed at all the dear familiar objects, touch ed into new beauty by the rising moon, and tried to realize she might no long er claim them for her own. Oh, it seemed too hard to be true that she who had been reared in the very lap of luxury and shielded from even a breath of sorrow's blast must in one short hour lose all that had made life beau tiful. No, not all, amid her dark thoughts one ray of comfort stole like a heaven sent messenger. "uome what may, sue mused, "l have still the greatest treasure left; alter all what is wealth weighed against a true manly heart? The law may take all else from me, but it cannot take his love," and the girl almost smiled as she paced up ami down the moon-lit walks, rejoicing, noi over ner loss, but that she at last had a test to try the much vaunted love of A lllie Grey, her old playfellow and whose bride she was to be in the autumn. "Of course 1 shall oiler to release him, but " a step on the gravel be- hind her and she turned to find the subject of her thoughts before her. "Wandering about like a restless little spirit as usual! I wonder if you were ever still a moment in your life, queenie r criea me young man gaiiy, taking her hands, then noting the sad face and quivering lip, he drew her toward him, asking tho cause of her trouble. For a moment she was silent, it secmed as if she could not tell him, but with an effort she regained her composure and having once begun she gathered courage, anu looking into nis face with her great, earnest eyes, she told him all, then withdrawing her hand, she ottered to release him from . their pniMcpmpnt. Knnwincr n wt11 Q"0 ' ----w how .he should have m U d had their po-itions been leveir-1, .she had t lor out' moment doubted him; what wa-s her surpri e tlu -iff ore when in stead ol the old protestation.-, of hve,he vtood before her silent ami m-'tionloi-s. Ol couisc Willie. thi w ill make a "leat different o with the world, no Cue will oxicct you to keep your promiso and marrv a ponmlesji girl when vou thought to find an heiress, and I am willing to release you. 'Of courbc it can make no difference in mv love for vou' he an.wered tdowlv then htooping to pluck a llowe'r from the In.rder, he murmured something about entangled estates, and nothing willing to ask her to share his poverty, all of which she could not understand, but she listened with a dull pain at her heart. wondering if she heard aright and if after all he did not love her. But when he turned and reproached her with not caring for him, saving she had coaled to love him and was glad of any excuse to throw him over, her eves were sud denly opened and she saw how base and mean was this man to whom she had pledged her life. Knowing well that what he said was only a loop-hole to excuse his own conduct he did not dare look into the honest eyes bent so indignantly upon his face, but stood a little wav from her his head bent over the ilower he still held. She heard him through without a word: " Vou know there is not a syllable of truth in all that vou have said," she said with slow, withering scorn, and he quailed before the contemptuous light of the blazing eyes. ' You know that I have never, for a moment, been false to you at least to what I thought you were. I came here to-night with a sorrowful heart to tell you of my loss believing it was my love, and not my monev, vou sought ; now I could re joice over that loss, since it has been the means of showing me your real character before it was too late . Enough!" she continued, haughtily, as he tried to interrupt her, and draw ing the tell-tale diamond from her lin ger, she dropped it deliberately at his feet. "In future we meet as strang ers ; never presume to address me otherwise, Mr. Grey, I have the honor to wish you good night," and sweep ing him a low, mocking courtesy, she moved away. For a moment he .was speechless, then starting forward, "Vere ! Vere !" he called after her ; but the haughty head was not turned, nor the firm, swift pace slackened. Yo gods! what a spirit the girl has ! a perfect little tragedy queen. I'll declare, if the estates were not so mucn emuar- rassed, I'd marry her money or no. Perhaps, after all, the alTair is not so bad, and she may tako me into favor again. But before I ask her, 1 11 see how much her governor has lost, for, li sue is reany a ueggar a vigoi- ous pull at the delicate mustache cov ering his upper lip, and a shrug of his shoulders, concluded the sentence as he turned to the gate. Vere did not pause till she had bolted herself in her own room, then all power of motion deserted her, and with a low moan she sank to the floor. She neither cried aloud nor moved but after that moan lay, her wide despair uw- "What is it?" she started at the sound of her own voice so different from her former ringing tones. " If you please, misses says you are to come directly, marster's very sick and they've sent for the doctor." 1 t . if a 1 1 t un a strong enori sue roiueu ner- self and went to her father's room, The physician was before her and she found him bending over the bed while her step-mother was sobbing hysteri- cally in a chair. The strain upon Mr. Herbert's naturally weak constitution bad proved too great and before the iosc ne .is &pweeiue&3 irom juirai- ysis. "He may recover with good nurs ing, the doctor said to Vere. " but that is all that will save him.1 " I will nurse him myself," the girl answered, steadily, and putting awav all thought of herself and her own heart sorrow, before this new grief mouon, amicipaiuig ms every wisn and scarcely leaving his side for two !ong weeks, at the end of which time she was carried almost lifeless to her own apartment after having, with her own hand, closed the staring, stony eyes that would never smile upon her i again in life ! CHAPTER II. "When Vere again opened her eyes to conciousnes3 she was in a small room entirely new to her. The furniture. the few pictures on the wall, all were strange, rsear the Y.indow, through which streamed the beams of the sink ing sun and beyond which she could see the far-a-way hills Hushed with red and yellow bv the early fall, sat Mrs. Herbert reading. She looked up as she turned her page and seeing the. great wistful eyes fixed on her from the bed, immediately came forward, " Where am-l?' whispered Vere. "In Vine Cottasre. our new home. You have been ill for a long time, but are better now and will soon be entirely well I hope," answered Mrs. Herbert gently. " You must not talk any more," she added as Vere parted her lips to speak, "try and sleep again." Too weak to resist, Vere swallowed the sleeping draught her step-mother I held to her lip9, and turning on her puiow sne was soon sleeping quietly. bhe had been ill a long time. June roses were blooming when she was first taken, and now September was nearly gone : her wholo constitution had been broken up, and her recoverv was necessarily slow and tdioui "When she was strong enough Mr llr. bert told her everything how all of ner lather s property, save a small sum expended during the girl's illness had gone to pay the securitv nml hw from her own purse, she had bought I nml fnvinclm,! i.;- .... . i iutuii.u incu pivr5tl.il IlUIIlt. THE FARMER Vere heard all in silence. t.o weak even to 1m wail her own deflate Mtua tion As she lay on her invalid s couch, unable to exert herself many wav hv bad ample time for thought, ind in the thoughts lived o r again all her iat happy life, from the time she knelt at her mothers knee and lisped her baby prayers to the bitter present. How vividly before her rose that mother's image as she lav on her death-bed, blessing her weeping husband and child. Then followed the four or live years she hail spent with her father in their elegant home on the banks of the Hudson ere his second marriage. Vere had not iMvn prepared to welcome her "new mama" and step-sister, younger than herself, with any degree of ccrdialit , but for the sake of the father whom she loved. 3Irs. Herbert was kind to the daughter, so this new arrangement made verv little dilTerence in ere a life Then came the time, only a short vear ago, when she had put school hooks awav and come out mto the world the beautiful, courted heiress and belle. There was no laugh more joyous, no eye that shone brighter no heart more generous and warm ! With her frank, merry ways, she was the centre of every circle, and the idol of her fath ers heart. Then her mind came nearer the present, and she thought of how mid last May's blossoms, her heart had learned its first tender lesson of love. nM nlavmate. V line Oliu uiv-i. j-v. " - - i J from his European travels, on1 him for weeks with her thoughtless, willful ways, had giv- en her heart to his Keeping, ucucmi l.o xcniihl be "tender and true." But now she knew that, though he might have cared for her in a degree, it was her monev which had been the chief attraction ; that was gone, and with i t his love, and with all her woman s prid she scorned his tickle, mercenary lionrt .mil thanked God that the fell blow which had cost her wealth, home, friends: father, love ave, and even ,.,, ad not been dealt in vrin since i i i i 1 t 4 vi i ji-o it had snown ner, m m imc vm the man she had endowed with the qualities of a god ! AW.iriK- tho weeks wore away, and bv the close of autumn Vere was able to walk to her father s grave, in the village church-yard. As she knelt by the quiet, lowly mound, and thought of the great unselfish heart lying be- neath it, and how uesoiaio nei me .i3 xvitlimit him. she nraved in her agony that she might die and go to him ; but God docs not listen to sucn prayers. "I must do something," she said to her step-mother, "I cannot live here in idleness and let you support me : besides, if mv thoughts are not occu pied I believe" I shall go mad ! " And so it was arranged that sue snouia take the place of the governess, whose form w.mnut. and teach the children. She entered thankfully upon her du- -i ties, since they kept her inind irom dwelling on her sorrow, and took from her a galling sense of dependence which she had been made to ieei in many little ways. Sadly and wearily t..H winter nassed. and spring at last began to emerge from its icy shadows. l'ossessed or a nveiy liiiagnuniwu. Vere conceived the idea of expressing somo of her conceptions upon paper, and already many of her articles were in the hands of eminent editors, as "neeentpd matter." and her name be gan to be known in the leading papers of the dav. "With the snrinc a faint tinge of color came into the wan cheeks, and her step lost somewhat of its accustomed listlessness, but the old brightness had irone forever from her life, and th merry ring from her voice. Thoughts of the past were fraught with suller inr: so. with a resolute will, she put cz 'A them awav, determined to live down the dull pain throbbing at the heart. Toward the close ol Jlay, urs. Her bert's brother returned from Califor nia, loaded with wealth, and offered to educate his neices, and leave them his property if their mother would make her home with him in his elegant i x- -v- l- mi uovise iu ew ior. xnis was a tempting offer, especially as .Mrs. Her- , . x - j bert was growing very weary of hwr quiet life in the village, and she accepted it with joy. "Of course vou will go with us. j j Vere, my brother wishes it." But 1 ..! 111 I'll ere declined, ueciueuiy ; me children would no longer need her services, she said, and she had no claim upon their uncle. Besides, a return to the city could only be full of painful asso- ciaiions, ior ner winters had always been spent there, and she ronld not bear to return a mere dependent whe e she had formerlv lived, court Ad nml admired. The children pleaded hard J 1 J 1 A t . 1 ior ner to go, out sue was nrm, and Mrs. Herbert, seeing the evident ad miration with which her hurl. dor brother regarded the sad, sweet face, 11 ! il ami ureaoing me consequences that .--. c . , nugm resun irom too ciose a compan ionship, urged her no more. " But what will you do, niv dear ?" 44 1 do not know," answered the girl, wearily ; "you know I have promised to go to Amy for the summer, and by the tail l shall get something to do. Amy begs me to stay with her, but I cannot accept a home from her anv more than irom you ; any labor is bet- 1 1 1 a ter man dependence ; And so the trunks were Packed, the good-byes said, and the last link broken that bound Vere to her old. bright life. As the lonely girl paced the deck of the little vessel which was to carrv her to her friends for the summer, she tried hard not to think of her desolate situation ; every thing was so changed, so dark and bitter she had no hope for the future, and tried to put it from hertl loughts. At Sunnyside she was welcomed warmlv bv hr i.i.i .-i.,-i friend Amy Hall, and her husband, and made to forget, as far as possible, her sorrow. There were several young people gathered there for the sum mer, and me days new bv with pic nics and excursions, all "on a small, quiet scale, but none the less merrv for that ; and even Vere. under the genial inlluence, regained a little of her former gaiety, the color deepened on the warm cheek and the lithe, graceful figure recovered somewhat of its old roundness. But still the fu ture hung over her like a dark shadow for she had been unable to obtain em ployment of any kind. She worked i. i i i . t itaru wiui ner pen, dui she was voung and inexperienced, and it would be some time ere she could depend en tirely upon that for a livelihood. JSr. MECHANIC. Shedwuded to the breakfast table one August morning feeling ery much dejected, w heii glancing her tr over the morning s laper. she aw in it column, a iragraph which ti.x-1 her attention immediately: - Wanted, a companion f'-r an inva lid lady address Mrs. U. T. Raymond. Klton.Va." , That dav's ist carried an applica tion from "Vere for the situation. She waited in feverish impatience for a reply; it came at last.and Vere was en gaged as a companion by Mrs. Ray mond w ho would like her. if conve nient, to begin her duties in September. And so when the summer was dy ing and fall begining to creep on, Vere bid good bye to her Sunny Side friends and went out alone into the "wide, wide world." CHAPTER III. At B. Vere left the railroad and took the stage for Elton. There were no other passengers she was glad to find and leaned quietly back in her corner, she drank in with the keen pleasure of an artist the lovely scenes through which they passed. After three or four hours drive, during which they seemed alternately climbing to heaven and plunging again to mother earth, the lumbering old stage drew up with a grand llourish Ik fore the small inn of Elton, a poor but picturesque. min ing village in tho heart of the Blue Kidge. ' Please miss, be you the young lady to go to the Hail? step this way.miss." and Vere followed the sable old serv ing man to where a pretty spring wagon was waiting to carry her to her new home. After seeing about her 'boxes ' the old man swung himself into the seat in front of her and gathered up the reins. "Misses would have sent the kerridge to fetch you," belaid apologetically, "but its been broke, leinme ee, nigh on to six years. Mars Ralph aint never at home "hardly now, ami misses she never goes away, so they aint got no use for a kerrige" Never Uen in these parts before ?" "No." " Ah ! you ought to have known the hall like 1 did. in the good old time that's gone ! 'Twas a gay place then, for Misses always had some one a-stay-ing with hers "and Mars Ralph lived here all the time. Ah them was happy times ! happy times ! But taint so now. misses is always sick and Mars Ralph aint lived at home regular like for nigh six years: the miners and tenants com plains niightly 'bout it, but he never stays more than a week at a time. All this 'longs to lum," continued the man pointing across the beautiful valley with his whip, "anil hereis the Hall!" A noble old building it was with its stacks of white chimneys, its gabled roof, and its broad passages and spa cious chambers. At the arched stone entrance they were received by the white haired butler and Vere was ushered into a large, elegantly fur nished drawing room, and left to wait while her arrival was announced to Mrs. Raymond. During her long journey her heart had not once failed her, her predomi nant feeling being that of joy at her independence, but now when she was about to be presented to her future employer, a sudden shyness seized her and she heartily wished herself back at Sunny Side or even with her step mother in New York, anywhere rather than in Mr. Raymond's drawing room. Fortunately she had not long to wait ere she was summoned to that lady's sleeping apartment, like the drawing room large and handsome, but utterly devoid of any homelike comfort. As Vero entered Mrs. Raymond raised herself on her elbow from the bed where she lay, the pillows scarcely whiter than the delicate,high-bred face resting on them. There were many silver threads among the dark hair drawn smoothly from the forehead, but the eyes that met Vereis were gentle and soft. She greeted the girl kindly. " Excuse my not rising, Miss Her bert; there, take that scat. Did you travel alone ?" " Yes." " And were not afraid !, you have a great deal of courage." There wan a pause during which the sick woman regarded the petite grace ful figure opposite her, very intently. Do you know.Miss Herbert, that I have been lying here for the last hour spec ulating as to what you looked like? I had quite decided that vou would bo very larje and a blonde, I find how mistaken I was. You are younger too, than I thought for," she continued. I rear you will find the hall verv lonely." "Oh no : lam sure I shall like it verv much," replied Vere quickly. i trust so my dear, you have a gen tle face and a sweet voice, and I think we will get along nicely. But you must be very tired. Jackson, this is M its Herbert, take her to her room and see she wants for nothing: I shall not require vour presence tilltea.so go and rest vourself, mv dear." When Mrs. Jackson the motherlv old housekeeper had left her alone, Vere proceeded to change her travel stained dress. As she combed out her hair before the long mirror she paused and looked at the rellection. "A gentle face?" she said musingly, "it was not called so in the old time, I think the lady across the passage would change her opinion if she saw me in one of my tantrums T and she made a wry face at herself to keep back the tears that were dangerously near the surface, for she felt very lonely: this girl.who had ever been surrounded by hosts of friends was now a stranger in a strange land.' She seated herself at the window with a book determined not to think of her ..elf, but ala3 ! thought will not always be bridled and many times during the next hour she was "compelled to dry the heavy tears from her eyes ere she could continue her reading. At last however the afternoon wore awav and she was summoned to tea in .Mrs Ray mond's room. " I have ail my meals here for I am unable to descend to the dinning hall; tis more than six months since I quit ted this room,' said Mrs. Ravmond with a sigh. Vere hoped she would soon be better and able to go out; Mrs. Raymond shook her head but smiled at the sym pathizing face opKsite her, "Not "un less you instill new life into me, Misa Herbert." When the little French clock chimed nine, the K w Ui.tW ..iv- V le .1 Bible. "Read in i bapt r, mv ih-ai. it will In' one of our duties every Iilht . Thank you. .die coi.tiini'-d a.- Wie i-io.d the Uik. "J.i.hI !:i;:!:t. ! In i-Ute and dep x.undlv.' - And ended Vt re's tiit evening at the Hall. In the morning die erterod regular ly ujon her duties which after all wen very li iht. She re: id aloud for several hours each day, sorld ami wound the worstids and talks for Mrs. Raymond's embroidery, and with th. doors set oi:n so that the music could llo.it up to the sick rm above, shu played soWtions from the church ser vice or other sacrtnl pieces on the piano in tho gloomy old drawing room, and when tho clock struck nine and Mrs. Raymond was quietly in bed, Vero read acliapter from the Rible ami sang hymns in her rich young voice till the lids dropped over the eye of the weary invalid. The rest of her time was at herowndispoal,and with Nero.a fierce blood hound whose love she had gained by sundry kind pats and words, she spent much of it in long rambles through the valley or along the moun tain sides, always returning with a strange llower to Ik examined, or some little adventure to lo told, seated at Mrs. Raymond's ide of whom she soon grew vry fond, and into whose heart she so wound herself that the sick woman often said: "Vere, how have I ever managed to live without you ? you are the very sunshine of my existence ! " There was a pretty little room join ing the library and owning iqHii the terrace through glass doors; this, with Mrs. Raymond's jHrmisim ami Mrs. Jackson's aid, Vere fitted up into a charming sitting room. Tho furniture was all light and simple but iu the most perfect taste, and above nil there was such an air of snug, home com fort about it that Mrs Jackson declar ed it did her heart good to look at it but the shook her head when she found Yore's wish was that Mrs. Ray mond should occupy it. "She don't even leave her room when Mr. Ralph is here." Rut Vere was not to be discouraged. "We shall see," she said, and it ended in Mi's. Raymond's spending the day on a couch by the "snuggery ' lire in stead of in her gloomy room up stairs, "where she was losing her strength day by day and would one-night die of the horrors," Vere declared. When Mrs. Jackson saw the wonderful change, and how strong and cheerful her mistress was grown under the girl's influence she shook her motherly old head again with a smile, saying: "Surely Miss Vere, youaroa fairy ! " "Yes, and I think we should call her fairy Sunshine," answered Mrs, Ray mond fondly. But beside tho knowledge that her services were appreciated at the Hall, Vere had another source of happiness. Wandering one day upon the moun tains she lost her way. and stopping at a miner's cottage to enquire her path she came, for tiie first time in all her young life, face to face with poverty in all its bitter nakedness, and saw how poorly the poor live. The half clothed, half fed children, the patient, care worn wife, the sternfc hard working father, all appealed to her strongest sympathies. (7b be continued.) Spring and Work. ',Y MRS. c. i. k. The spring of ltf7? seems to have set fairly in in Orange county. The llowcr pots are full of daffodils and blue hyacinths and Japan quince, the violet stands are full of violets, and there is a tendency to let the fires die out in the middle of the day, ami to sit with windows open. Out of doors the air is smokv from innumerable little bon fired in everybody's gardens, where the corn-stalks and dry grass and trimmings from the shrubbery are being burned. Every now and then a rooster crows somewhere in the dis tance while the man who is spreading the manure on tho beds and digging it in, stops to take off his hat and wipe his forehead as if hot weather had come. I fear we shall have a plenty of cold yet, but meanwhile we may as well enjoy the soft and fragrant air, and get our peas ami onions in the ground. In the woods I know the alder and the dog-tooth violets and the liverworts are in bloom along the creek, and I dare say the trailing arbutus will be found before these lines are in print. Even world-worn and wearied people, even lifo-long in valids, take fresh hold on life in such days in spring ; they come out and sniff the air, and sun themselves, and thank God they have lived to see the buds and blossoms once more. A puff of rather stronger March air than usual will send them shivering back to their fire, wondering why March must always be windy. I have never heard the theory advanced which accounts for high winds at thi3 season ; their use on my premises is to make every body cros3, to litter the yard with dead twigs and branches from the trees, and to accumulate a pile of dry leaves juht at my front door htep. The spring season with all its charm and seduction to out-door life yet brings to most housekeepers an in crease of work indoors which keeps them more closely confined than is at all for their good. Happy she who has had the forethought and the energy to use many of the long winter even ings in getting beforehand with her spring sewing. Happy the family where such work is enlivened by tho voice of a good reader. How fast the fingers lly, how unconsciously the work progresses while thought, or fancy, or feeling aro aroused and l imulatfd. i-:Mk- ,itt- I,. , .. net dd all "vi i N i tii .i: ! , . ton 1. hip ought U . ,v- i . ; . library, if for no . t hrr r., , bt.;hteM h!e fr tho w ?n i their intelligence, and :.; . inter ss. With jtiirt of the hu. i which w ill I neslHl at tii- ,, , change, bno, and off on, inj. . is plenty of time for .r, ,u time for tlowcrs, time fi r w the children, and for refn ImkIv nnd mind lofore h.u, , ;. and tho general turn-ov r f tj.. . . ies usual when spring 1 -ir . ; not sure, however, to whs; Southern housekeepers ob-v-r.r peculiarly Yankee custom, i.. and ledroo!iis I know art tu:-. side out. but whether ell. ir. v houses, kitchens and ninlio.....- descriptions are thus visit. . uughly ransacked and whit,.-w and put in order, 1 cannot certainly ought to be d,.... 5!. , establishment no matter L.,. . Not an old barrel, or U. . r I, it tf iiUnl titlf .i.iill.) t., ) . light, and tho pla e ulm. , swept and ducted. A c il u a dwelling hone vs here l.in.j dant and there u no need ton, space, is a piece of fully , ... inexcusable among intelligent j. And built as carelessly as m. -t , f cellars are, they aro lit only t., mould ami damp and entail i hf- ;: affections ami low spirit- , . dwellers in the houo. 1 new-.-,;.. , a cellar stairs without a cn t ; depression of mind. Tho-. u j... so unfortunate as to posses- u should feel called Upon for t:. taking of all t hat is stowed t i . i -. let no dark corner f it nm.. visited and unclcansed. Wo ought to make n;n whitewash about our farm lu fences. It is certainly ehe.ip .-:, .1 l i l 1 t: r . ... . . aim w oiim iuju mi j i in. i appearance of the house, tin- ! and all the premises. If our ! ' generally would use it tho apj of the whole country would proved fifty per cent. When .:n fields are green ami our whit' ;r. . fruit blossoms instill thvir think no country can show a i spring than ours. If wo ha 1 farm-houses and fem es edin.: : green slopes how greatly the l.i. : would be improved. I rom s. nu in Chapel Hill we have v. i ! v tended views of tho neighlx r;'. try half a dozen farm hous.-- v- seen at once among the inn-, one them is colored in any w . paint or whitewash, and when - ; comes not one can b distinui the distance. Where wo cum' paint I believe in whitewash 1: ' applied indoors and out at lea-. . year. 1 append below as se t- ' .. l : .... . . . ooupio oi it?iper ior nianiu i . from a lxiok of standard auth hoiiiehold matters and then f-: 1 . 1 fcumaoiv goou. l am m.t howpver, on looking tiieinn ' ono of them calls for some ms:i which country people ar im . keej on hand, and no me in' sure to cry, Oh, you donk' v. am I to get it.' The ordinary make whitewash is simply t" ' water on the lime and htir a : lime is well dissolved an 1 ' Make it about as thick as cream. add a little varnish to make sonie add a little mohisses, the lime with sweet skim milk of water which is said to n: . wash very smooth, and n ." rubbed off. The are irr-nl. ' of making it, and people m .-' for themselves as to tie .r -Sometimes in the country we . -to do anything. I have he, . ... lasses tried and it i- n;.!';. . addition, giving a go... m a;:, tho wash. WHITEWASH. Take a half bushel un-ia- 1. and slack it with boiling ' ering it during tho pro'-. "' add a peck of salt dissolve! -. water, three jKMinds ground : to a thin paste and put in ! half a pound of jxvdered w)..:: a pound of glue dissolve'! water. Heat the whole i; -and apply it as hot as Kj-ai:----- ANOTHER WAV. Slack your lime with h"t 'v ' is nearly saturated with a few handful of lino whit- -has been sifted. Have ii 1 sietence of cream. You low ochre or any colorin' ' ' choose for the outside of y -A light stone color, or i - I haps preferable to pure wh:' J This second recipe, t'i: -j cheapest, is aid to ia-t ' look as wwll lui oil-paint Underskirts are made n ;u " add nothing whatever to ' of the scanty and clingin over them, their only p1"'"" ':' being to keep out the tr ;- -Thev are cut only to the ', sively gored, except jut a' , and then llounceh of diffei'en. are buttoned on according t' ! - of the dressed with whica worn; but all of them mu-i ! i front and must "fun out ' I" '"