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 DEATH 1 N LIFE. Marion, shivering with fright, and gazing with terrified eyes around the low chamber, with its scanty furniture, which remained exactly as Vivienne had seen it on that dreadful night long months ago. Elise, though herself quivering with superstitious terror, was, meanwhile, occupied in spreading shawls and quilts over the velvet cover of the couch, in placing a flask of wine on the rough table, and in trying to give some appearance of comfort to the cell-like room. Vivienne, with faltering steps, had descended the stairs leading to the vaults, and examined the bars that fastened the iron doors at their foot. "Why do you do that, madame?" asked Marion. “ Bars, I have heard, avail nothing "" against She paused, checked by a warning look from Elise. "There is another way of gaining access to the vaults," answered Vivienne. "I do not know what treachery may be meditated. See, Marion, I am prepared to defend myself against other than spiritual terrors ;" and Vivienne showed her a keen, glittering dagger fastened in her belt. As she did so, a slight movement in the chapel startled them, and extorted a piercing shriek from Marion, who threw herself at Vivienne's feet, and buried her face in her mistress' dress. A figure glided into the dim light shed by a lamp Elise had placed on the table, and Duroc's bloodless face gleamed out from the darkness. "Ah, Monsieur Duroc ! " said Vivienne, speaking calmly, though her very lips were white with terror, "you know why I am here, I presume. I shall certainly remain here. I bid you good-night, monsieur. " An imperious wave of her hand motioned him to leave the chapel, and with a cringing bow he turned away.

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tolled its slow, solemn warning. As the eighth stroke fell on her ear, she heard the chapeldoor close behind her attendants, and all was silent-the silence of the grave. Trembling, half fainting, she threw herself on the couch, and lay there, her heart beating in slow throbs, that sounded like thunder in her ears. She dared not close her eyes for fear some horrible shape would steal to the side of her couch ; she dared not look toward the great, black doors of the vaults, there were such horrors behind them as chilled her blood to think of. She thought- though the thought seemed driving her mad -of the dead marquis lying there so near her ; of the mouldering dust and whitening skeletons in their coffins, with the silver on them tarnished, and the velvet palls slowly dropping into dust. The ghastly images her imagination pictured seemed to come crowding round her in the chill and gloom. They were there, those shapes of horror, close to her, lingering in the shadows. If she moved her

eyes from the little flame of the lamp, which they had fixed themselves upon, she would see them-these pale spectres. It seemed to her that hours passed, during which her eyes never moved from that dim, flickering flame. She was roused from that trance of terror by the sound of the clock striking the half-hour. She had been here, then, but one short half-hour ! With a de-

spairing shudder she closed her aching eyes for an instant. When she opened them againoh, horror ! her lamp was out, and a sound stole through the room like a faint, long-drawn sigh. Wild with terror, Vivienne sprang up, and stood for an instant in the pitchy darkness ; then the same low, fluttering sigh breathed through the room, and her senses fled. She knew not how long this merciful oblivion lasted. Waking at last to faint consciousness, " And now you must leave me," said Vivienne, she found herself lying, chilled and stunned, in a low, yet steady tone, to her attendants. upon the stone floor, with the night-wind blowMarion sobbed and clung convulsively to the ing coldly on her face. Darkness-thick darkdress of her adored young mistress ; but theness surrounded her ; but as she lay there, calmer Elise raised her companion, and then conscious only of the horror to which she had kissing fervently the hand Vivienne extended returned, her eyes suddenly rested on an object to her, she exclaimed, " Madame, may our which seemed to stand out of the surrounding Blessed Lady, and all the saints watch over gloom. High up on the wall the silver crucifix shone, and guard you through this night!" Vivienne could only bend her head silently in appearing to emit a pale, miraculous light, faint, reply. She motioned to them to leave her. yet steady. It was surely a miracle, wrought They passed into the chapel ; she closed the to save her from death or madness ! door, shot the huge bolt into its place, and was In a transport of religious ecstasy, Vivienne alone in her terrible chamber. For a moment dragged herself to the foot of the cross, and she heard the retiring footsteps of the two kneeling there, fixed her eyes upon it, and women, and Marion's low sobs. Then the clock clasped her cold hands in half frenzied prayer.

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DEATH IN LIFE.

to the vaults beneath the chapel. If at any to see that I fulfill the conditions of my hustime she fails to be within that chamber when band's will ; but let me be relieved from your the hour of eight in the evening arrives, or presence, which is hateful to me." She swept should leave it before the hour of six in the from the room with the haughty air of an inmorning, she will immediately forfeit all that I sulted queen, and Philip was left raging with have herein bequeathed to her, which will be- mortification and anger. And Vivienne, once in her own apartment, come the property of my nearest kinsman, Philip de Saint Evremonde, or his heirs. This the young marquise lay prostrate before the condition I annex for reasons which my wife shrine in her little oratory, weeping, tremwill understand, and in the belief that a pure bling, praying for strength and courage to conscience, and a devout spirit can make her pass through the ordeal before her. Elise and Marion, her favorite attendants, found her in happy even in that dismal chamber. '999 The voice of the notary ceased abruptly, and this frightful state, and it was many minutes Philip started from his seat. With a cry of before she could answer their frightened queshorror Vivienne had risen from her chair, and tions. At last, under promise of strict secrecy, then fallen back again ghastly pale, and with Vivienne confided to them the terrible provision closed eyes. But she had not fainted. The of her husband's will, and rising with inforced sound of Philip's hated voice, as he directed calmness, she began to make preparations for the notary to summon her attendants, recalled going to her gloomy resting-place. "Madame, you shall not go alone . We will her to herself. She opened her eyes, and her breath came in long, gasping sighs. stay with you," cried both the attached women. Vivienne shook her head mournfully. Oh ! it was so cruel, so terrible a revenge ! She must fulfill the condition, for her mother "I must remain there alone, " she said ; "that would die if she were removed from the cha- is the condition." " Then I will spend the night in the chapel. teau; and Vivienne knew from the pitiless, triumphant look in the eyes of the bad man I will sleep on the threshold ofyour chamber!" near her, that he would turn them both out to exclaimed Elise, vehemently. starve without scruple or regret. "No, Elise, " said Vivienne, with quivering Even in the first instant of her horror and lips. " I shall be safe there. Heaven will prosurprise, she determined that her dying mother tect me. On you, Elise and Marion, do I rely should never know the condition upon which to take care of my dear mother, and, above all, she was allowed to live on in tranquil ease and to conceal from her the cause of my absence. luxury. " I shall only have to bear it for a Tell her that I am very weary to- night, and little while," thought Vivienne. " Then my have gone to rest. I cannot see her now." dear mother will be at rest, and I shall seek "May we not go with you, madame, and make refuge in a convent. Only a little while ! Oh, that terrible place more fit for your occupaheaven! give me strength to bear it for my tion ?" asked Elise, and without waiting for an answer, she began to collect the rich shawls dying mother's sake." Then the young marquise rose from her chair and silken quilts that lay on the couch of the with quiet dignity, and turning to Saint Evre- { marquise. The great clock of the chateau boomed out monde, said calmly, " Monsieur, I am ready to fulfill the condition . It is hard- but I shall the hour of half-past seven. Vivienne started find strength for it." at the sound, and followed by her attendants, "Nay, madame, it is too hard ! " he cried, hurried through hall and passage till the chapelcatching her hand, and gazing into her face door was reached. passionately. "That such loveliness should be Darkness had long ago gathered in the silent condemned to a living burial is intolerable ! chapel, and the lamp that burned constantly There is a way to escape it. Become my wife-" before the altar shone out like a star amidst But Vivienne's hand was snatched from his black clouds. grasp, her eyes flashed, and her cheek crimFor a moment Vivienne prostrated herself soned with anger and resentment. near the altar, and her lips moved in prayer; "Monsieur, you insult me!" she cried, in then she opened with a trembling hand the clear, steady tones, without one shade of fear heavy door of the vaulted chamber, and stood or irresolution. "I would rather be buried again amidst its shadows, and its chill and alive in the vaults themselves than become your clinging vapors. "Madame! Madame! You will die here! Oh! wife. Monsieur, I desire that you leave my house. Appoint as many persons as you please is there no help ? Must you stay here ?" sobbed

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 DEATH

IN

LIFE.

BY AGNES JAMES.

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 101. A WEEK of Philip Saint Evremonde's odious society Vivienne was compelled to endure. Then he left the chateau, and her life settled again into its quiet routine. She faithfully nursed and tended her invalid mother, whose days seemed to be passing sweetly and tranquilly on to the end- and who never, for an instant, was allowed to see the thousand alarms and forebodings that tortured her daughter's heart. Vivienne felt, day by day, that the marquis was waiting till a set time came for his revenge. It was only deferred- not forgotten. She was constantly made to understand this by his harshness and coldness, and by the strict surveillance which did not leave her a moment unwatched, or permit a letter or messenger to leave the chateau unexamined.

wife, now stared blankly and horribly through the glaze of death ; the lips that had uttered such harsh and sneering words were silent forever ; the heart that had loved her so fondly, and hated her with so deadly a hate, bent no more with either love or hatred. But as Vivienne stood gazing down upon his white face, and trying to close his staring eyes, her tears fell fast for the kind old man who had loved her long ago, and she forgot the tyrant whose death set her free. They led her weeping from his bedside, and she sobbed herself to rest in the arms of her mother, who mingled her tears with Vivienne's, and murmured tender praises of the dead man. The stately, magnificent funeral ceremonies were over, the body of the marquis rested in Meanwhile, had escape from this tyranny the silent vaults beneath the chapel ; and of all been possible, duty and affection chained her the train of relatives and friends who had assemto the side of the declining mother, whose last { bled at the chateau, no one remained but Philip days would have been rendered miserable if she Saint Evremonde, his nearest kinsman, and the had discovered the estrangement between her inheritor of his title. A very small portion, however, of the vast wealth of the marquis acdaughter and the marquis. So the autumn and winter wore away, and companied the title ; the greater part becoming March winds began to wail around the turrets, the property of his young widow. and bend the sturdy oaks of Hautlieu. But the notary, who had drawn the will of One wild, stortay night, Vivienne was kept the late marquis, on the evening of the funeral awake till daydawn by the restless wind, and requested the presence of the marquise, and of the rain that sobbed against her windows. the new marquis, at the reading of the will. They seemed full of sorrowful voices, of shrieks Vivienne came in her sable dress, and, without of despair, of moans from some distant battle- raising her eyes, slightly returned the salutafield, where, perhaps, Leon lay dying, of sobs tion of Saint Evremonde, seated herself, and and lamentations. She could not sleep till the listened to the reading. gray dawn stole in, and her windows and the She scarcely understood the involved legal wind was lulled to rest. phraseology of the document. She only comShe was awakened by an eager, agitated voice prehended that it put her in possession of almost in her ear. Elise, one of her attendants, stood fabulous wealth, which was to be hers, however, beside her weeping, and exclaiming, " Oh, ma- upon one simple condition. dame ! will you rise, and come with us to see The notary paused in his reading a moment, Monsieur le Marquis ? They cannot awaken and Vivienne, raising her head with languid him ! Oh, madame ! they are afraid- " interest, saw that Philip was watching her with Vivienne did not stay to hear the girl's story. eager, expectant eyes. The notary continued, " All these moneys and Hastily wrapping herself in a loose robe, she entered the apartments of the marquis, which estates I do hereby give and bequeath to my adjoined her own. A crowd of frightened ser- wife Vivienne de Hautlieu, on condition that vants were gathered around the bed, and on it the hours between eight o'clock in the evening lay, cold and rigid , the body of the Marquis de and six in the morning, shall be spent by her, Hautlieu . He had been dead many hours. The alone, in the vaulted chamber adjoining the eyes that had gleamed so cruelly upon his young chapel of the Chateau de Hautlieu, and leading 193

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UNDER THE ELM.

GIVING AND WITHHOLDING.

" I dunno," says Squire Moss, kinder soft, "unless you take me instid of him. I've been thinking about coming over to see you for quite a spell ; but I've had so much to do I hain't got at it. Things is mighty bad this year, so much wet weather it starts the weeds rite ahead. What do you say, Mrs. March ? Will you marry me?" " Lawful heart, Squire Moss ! how you talk!" says I ; and then the squire he put his arm round

UNDER

me, and give me a real old-fashioned smack, andWall, we are a going to be married next month, when the sign is in the heart, for good luck. I sot my boarders all adrift the next day after the wedding of Cliffe and the widder, and I don't calkilate to keep any more never. The squire says he'll buy some ottermans, and things for our parlor, that'll take the shine off from Mrs. Brown's in no time at all.

THE

EL M.

BY MATTIE WINFIELD TORREY. UNDER the elm, in the eventide, How we heard the night-bird calling, As we watched the trailing shadows glide, When the twilight dews were falling, Drooping its trailing branches low, Down to the blush-red clover, Swaying and eddying to and fro, As the breeze of night swept over. Under the elm, when the day was done, And the quiet night was darkling, How we watched the stars come, one by one, In the jeweled sky-vault sparkling. How we laughed and sung as the moon rode high, In the depth of ether sailing; And she seemed to pierce, with her shining eye, 'Neath the pliant branches trailing. No longer now, as the years flow by, We lie on the blush-red clover, And listen and watch for the thrilling sigh Of the night-wind sailing over.

GIVING

AND

No longer we sing, ' neath the silver moon, As the night-shades gather round us, But, ah! there's a spell in the olden time That close to the past has bound us. And struggle and strive, as we ofttimes may, To break from the secret thralling. Our heart goes back to the olden tinie, When we watched the shadows falling ; When, under the branching elm-tree high, In the beautiful Summer weather, There fell a word, a blush, and a sigh, That bound two young hearts together. Under the elm, you remember, sweet, How you bent to my wild caresses ; You must have heard how my proud heart beat At the sweep of those queenly tresses. But you never, never could have known How our love-dream must be broken; And that I should be keeping our tryst alone, With thewraith of a grief unspoken.

WITHHOLDING.

BY N. F. CARTER. DENY not to the needy world thy mite, However small the offering may be; Give it a tribute of the love and light Charming thy life as balm the Summer sea. Denying, Is dying; Giving, Living! The fountain, hoarding all its treasures up, At best is but a dark and stagnant pool ; But in the heat, still pouring from its cup, Gives fresher life with waters clear and cool. Denying, Is dying ; Giving, Living! In vain seem morning-glories of the Spring, With blue-bird and the robin ever mute; The tree is but a poor and worthless thing, Barren of singing leaves, and flowers, and fruit.

Denying,

Is dying; Giving,

Living! The air, to life-blood more than bread and wine, Without a constant giving, is a blight; The sun, so glowing, should it cea e to shine, Would be an orb of blackness black as uht. Denying, Is dying; Giving, Living! Then give, be ever giving, give to live; Upon the world bestow thy wealth of love, Of gold, of strength, of service ; live to ging Till dawns the morning of the life above. Denying, Is dying; Giving, Living!

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 MRS.

MARCH'S

BOARDERS ,

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"Land of pity !" says I, hiding my face in my I was late. I started upon the run, stepped apron, and getting that dough all over it-" how onto my gound, and fell flat, rite into a mudyou do talk !" puddle, and spattered myself from top to toe. I know it's a little sudden," says he, squezBut I jumped up immegiately, and made for ing my hand so that the pinch-beck ring, that I the depot, I seed a man standing on the platwear on my forefinger to keep off the rhumatiz, form. I waved my handkercher to him, and cut rite into the flesh, " I know it's sudden, and screamed at the top of my voice, "Stop ' em ! Don't let ' em went on without I beg your pardon for speaking of it. But I must confide my trouble to some feeling heart- { me !" and to whom shall I speak unless to you, my "They've already went!" says the man- and, dear Mrs. March?" shure enough, so they had ! I asked the man— " Sarting!" says I. "I'm the very one. Talk who got in ? And he said a man and womanand described Mr. Cliffe exactly. rite along, and tell me everything." "I'm unfortunate," says he. "I cannot be "Look here !" says I. " Hain't there no way married without losing a fortune, unless I am that I can git to Stickneyville without waiting married privately. My grandfather is very for the next train ?" wealthy, and has made a will in my favor ; but He scratched his head to scratch up an idee, if I marry in his lifetime I forfeit all the pro- and said, he and another man there would kerry me down on a hand-car for a dollar. I perty. He is opposed to matrimony." told them the money was ready for him the " The old hunks !" says I, indignantly. "Yes," says he, "so he is, though I must not mianit I was landed at Stickneyville- and we say so ; and, Mrs. March, what I want is, that sot forth rite off. "Turn like all possessed !" says I. " It's you will consent to a private marriage, and allow me to remain here afterward with my necessary for me to git there as soon as I can !"' wife ;" and he laughed, and blushed, and looked And they turned . I guess they fairly airned their dollar. as silly as could be. "Lawful heart !" says I ; "of course I conI paid ' em as soon as we arriv, and hurried sent. Tain't nobody's business, no way. When to Suire Moss' at the top of my speed. There is it to be ?" was a light in the parlor, and I rushed in with"Next Saturday night, if it pleases you. I out knocking. And, gracious deliverance ! I wonder I hadn't have already spoken to Squire Moss about it, and he has consented. We shall go down to his swoonded rite on the spot, for jest as true as house in the six o'clock train, be united, and { you live, there stood Cliffe and the widder return at eight to your house. You'll not fail Westly hold of hands, and the squire was jest a to be at the depot?" saying, "I pronounce you man and wife !" "No, indeed !" says I, "you can depend on I grabbed Cliffe's arm, and brought him round me!" and then he kissed my hand jest as they do in novels, and never seemed to notice the facing of me in a seckont. dough that was still sticking to it. "Land of Goshen ! " says I. "What does this I was as happy as can be ; and I made up my mean?" mind that I'd deed the six-acre field to Mr. "She's mine !" says he. " Nobody can sepa-. Cliffe the minnit we was married. That would rate us now !" and he fell to kissing the widder.. show him how much confidence I had in him. "You're a false, desateful man !" says I;: I should have somebody now to esquart me "and I'm a good mind to have you arrested for home from evening meetings, and to go to the begotry and breeches of promise ! You prosowing-circle with me Thursday nights. It was mised to marry me ; and here I've been to the dreadful nice to think of; and I didn't go to expense of gitting a new gound " sleep till nigh midnight that night for thinking "My dear Mrs. March !" says he ; "what a. of it ; and when I did get asleep, I dreamed of mistake ! I have been engaged to Myra evera funeral, which is a sarting sign of a wedding. since her husband died, and we came to your · I went and had a buff delaine gound made house to be together. And we hope still to. for the occasion, and Sotterday night, at half remain. " past five, I sot sail for the depot. It seemed "Well, you won't," says I, "not by two that Mr. Cliffe didn't want to excite no sus- chalks ! I won't keep such a man in my house !: picions by our going to the depot together. Jest You'll tramp to-morrer, both of ye ! Oh, dear ! as I turned into the road that led to the depot dear ! what shall I do ! If this should get out, them consarned cars whistled in, and I knowed how folks would talk ! What shall I do ?" VOL. LVI --13

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GUARDY'S

PEARL.

I don't think I ever felt so like a fool. To be room, and looked a little suspiciously, I fancied, at my jewel- case, now almost empty. Finally, foiled in my elopement was not half so hard as she said, good-night, ( our rooms were on the to have merited the white witch's contemptsame side of the house, but hers was at one end for I love Marguerite almost as well as I do of the balcony, and mine at the other, ) and then Charley. But I didn't hang my head like a I sent Martha away, pretending that I would chidden child then ; I scolded, and laughed, do my hair myself. Twelve o'clock ! It was and cried, and defended Charley, and would not nearly time to start ; so I put up my window allow him to say that it was at all his fault. and gazed cautiously out. The rain had stopped "I only implore you not to tell aunt Frances," a little, but it blew just as hard as ever ; and, said I. "Write for Guardy to-morrow, if you oh, dear! how slippery the balcony looked ! choose ; but I won't be bullied by that old lady. No help for it ; so I turned my gas down very And then, just think of my bag and jewelry at low, and having lowered my bag, gathered my the bottom of the river !" Marguerite's lips dress in my hand, and slid safely and almost { quivered at the climax. noiselessly down. Then came a gust that nearly "Kathie, darling, go home, " said Charley, at took my breath away, and there was a distant last. " Miss Vivian, I am thoroughly ashamed gleam of light in the summer-house. How could of my own conduct. Try to be as merciful to Charley be so imprudent ! On any less stormy that poor child as you can. May I come back night the people at the lodge must have seen it. as far as the house ?" I am certainly a very plucky girl, for between But Marguerite sent him to the lodge instead, the pitchy darkness and the wet, slippery ground, to knock up the keeper, with a story of being I was in a little the worst plight I ever imagined. locked in ; and then we girls battered against On I plunged, however, until I got to the little the wind and rain back to our balcony. Without a bridge, and there stopped to take breath. My word, Marguerite locked the window, turned on bag was heavy, so I deposited it on the boards, the gas, and throwing herself in my easy- chair, and at that instant I heard Charley's voice, so laughed a little, low laugh of contentment. sharp and quick, that I fairly jumped. "Oh, Kathie! you naughty, naughty child ! "Kathie, take care, for heaven's sake ! Don't How I have been watching you every moment try the bridge, it's broken in several places, since last night, when I overheard you plotting and the stream has risen so— " with Charley in the library, and made up my Bang ! A furious blast of wind, a rush of mind to stop you . I would have done it earlier, swollen water ; and as he snatched me away but you were bent upon trying it. Yes, I folfrom the dangerous locality, the remains of the lowed you from the time you started, except ' little bridge went floating off- my bag, my that I let myself quietly out of the house- door, jewels, and my dresses with it, and I, like Lord instead of the balcony. I have kept my own Ullric, was left lamenting." counsel ; and you will be heartily ashamed of it " Goodness ! my bag !" I gasped ; and then, as in six months. Child ! don't be silly ! Are you I saw Charley's face, by the light of his lantern, crying ?" 66 To be sure I am," sobbed I, as Marguerite's I went off into a fit of laughter that nearly busy fingers loosened my wet cloak. " You're strangled me, as I tried not to make a noise. " How upon earth are we going over, Charley ? such a cold, proud girl, you don't know what The gate is locked, and the stream impassable. " it means to love any one as I love Charley. I Alas ! for the romance of the elopement, fancy tell you I shall die if Guardy separates me from Charley's horror ! "Don't you think we're a him." And I stamped my feet in genuine, passionate misery. Marguerite drew me down close pair of geese, dear ?" • Most unmitigated ones," said the clear, soft beside her, and kissed me twice. I looked up in voice of Marguerite, close at my elbow . In my surprise at the unexpected caress, and saw that fright I nearly tumbled into the water, and her eyes were full of tears. "So I am too cold to love, Kathie ? Little Charley was almost as bad. There she stood, her long hair wet and loosened, her pale face girl, do you wish to listen to a story— a short and gleaming eyes looking at us with a mixture one, and very commonplace. I would like to of censure and kindness. comfort you, and, perhaps, I can do so best by " Kathie, come home, " said she, a little telling you what a sore heart I have cared this severely ; “I think you are mad to risk so much five years. Yes, five years- don't you know in such an utterly thoughtless, childish fashion. I'm twenty-four, Kathie ?" She did not look Mr. Blake, I hardly think such foolish children it, with her beautiful, pearly skin, and violet have any claim for mercy at Our King's hands. " eyes ; and she smiled, as I told her so.

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 GUARDY'S "I knew a man once- a man considerably older than I- who was my devoted friend. At times he was even more than that— and my sister did all in her power to throw us together. Don't mistake me; he never really proposed to me, but I know he loved me- a little! One day I heard that he was engaged to a very lovely woman, and I took the news so calmly that even my sister was deceived. I faced my misery alone, Kathie ; it's the better plan always. But his glad, bright prospects faded away like a dream, and she died, pretty creature, very suddenly, before the end of a year. I have never seen

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I fairly shrieked over the idea of Guardy's face when he should read it-and though Marguerite scolded me heartily, not a line more would I add. But she sat down and despatched him a note, which I don't doubt was all that was lady-like and proper ! The response to our epistles came in the form of a telegram to Miss Vivian, and it was concise enough. " On board train due at seven-thirty." I had seen Charley that day, and had been wretchedly doleful. I made up my mind to appeal to Guardy's sympathies, but I did not have an opportunity very soon. Mrs. Rainshim since since one day, just before his eu- ford had a dinner-party, and we were all sitting gagement, when he bade me good - by, to go with in the music - room when Guardy came in. Marhis regiment to the war. I think I suffered guerite was singing, exquisitely as usual, and most in feeling the soreness of his sorrow, when Guardy's entree was made with his customary I, who would have given my life almost to com- quietude, so she only saw him as she rose. I fort him, did not even dare to write him a kindly never knew her to be awkward before ; but her line lest it should be misconstrued ." I was so dress caught in the music-bock, and it fell with interested by this wonderful glimpse into Mar- a crash on the ivory keys. I glanced at her, guerite's heart, that I really forgot my own surprised, and saw that she had turned white trials. as marble. In an instant the truth flashed upon "But now," said I, " if you were to meet-dome- Gerald King was the hero of her story. you thinkShe shook her stately head. Guardy's greeting to me was a trifle stern and "Do you think I would stoop to conquer ?' cold, and, very much to my surprise, I felt the I wish I dared ! No, dear child, this is all past ; tears rush to my eyes as he omitted his kiss on I shall never love or marry any other man. my forehead. After all, I did care a little about Come, lift your head up, dear, and tell me my handsome guardian, and between his coldwhether I cannot feel some sympathy for you. " ness, and my consciousness of having acted Marguerite and I talked there until nearly very badly, I was in a sufficiently penitent dawn. She tried in vain to reason me out of my frame of mind when he sent for me to come to determination to marry Charley at all hazards ; the library the next morning. and then endeavored to counsel me into some "Kathie," said he, stroking my hair with a kindly gesture as I burst into tears, and sobbed degree of tact in my management of Guardy. "Good-night, " said I, as the clock struck out something about "forgiveness, " " I have three. "I'll be heroic enough to write Guardy been talking over this madeap performance of to-morrow, and tell him the whole story. yours with Miss Vivian, and I begin to think Heigh-ho ! I'll make him laugh with a graphic that you are more really fond of that boy than account of your appearance. You have a fine I had supposed. If I put you on probation, do idea of stage effect, ma belle." you think that you will keep the pledge as well That letter was a herculean task, but I finally as you did my placing you on your honor ?" For once I hung my head, speechless. "Sit achieved it in the following fashion : down, " Guardy went on, gently putting me in "DEAR GUARDY- I took the opportunity of a chair, " and take matters quietly. I am willthe storm last night to jump off the balcony, ing to allow Charley to visit you for a year, at and try an elopement with Charley Blake. As the end of which I shall take you to Europe for the bridge broke down, (providentially, it only a six months' trip. On your return, if you still carried my bag with it, instead of myself ; ) and wish it, Kathie, you may rely upon my free conMiss Vivian insisted that I should wait for a sent to your marriage. My chief objection was moonlight night as being more romantic and the extreme youth of both parties- what a pair becoming- I yielded to her persuasions, and of foolish children to plan a runaway match !" I returned home peaceably. As I lost all my think I rather startled him, for I jumped up and prettywelry in the smash, when you come up threw my arms around his neck. "Guardy, you're a brick! Oh ! I forgot ; but to scold me, please bring that lovely new locket you promised me. Dear Guardy, don't be furi- on this extraordinary occasion you must excuse KATHIE." the slang., I love Charley with all my heart, ous with your naughty little

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 MARIE

ANTOINETTE'S

TALISMAN.

BY MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS. [Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.] CONTINUED FROM PAGE 66. CHAPTER XIII. enough to quarrel about if we had them all here THE governor of the Bastile had retired to his but for a single month. " "Ah !" said the governor, who seemed on exown apartments within that grim old fortress. All the duties of the day had been performed.cellent terms with his man. "But how are we The allowance of black bread and impure water to get them here, when we never see the king's had been doled out to the prisoners, and the signature, except it be to empty our cells of doors closed, leaving them in utter darkness. their prisoners ? He seems to forgive all men All these horrible duties being settled to his before they are sentenced, especially his own satisfaction, the governor was ready for his own enemies. I tell you, Christopher, this king, in luxurious supper, and sat waiting for it with his leniency, has brought this fortress of the some impatience. Originally this man was Bastile down to the level of a common jail ; and neither hard-hearted or cruel ; but holding a his conduct fills me with such disgust, that I am position where these qualities were exacted at times half resolved to throw up my commisfrom him, they had gradually become a part sion. " of his nature. Unlimited power of the worst The keeper looked through one of the narrow kind had made him a tyrant, and hardened his windows, and took a survey of the ponderous heart to iron. walls ; then, turning with a grim smile, he As this man sat, calm and indifferent, in an said, atmosphere of misery, which rose around him "If the walls were less thick, a resignation like a miasma, a grim, stalwart man, in the might be prudent just now; but I think they dress of a keeper, knocked at the door and will defy all the clubs in Paris." "Or in all France, " answered the governor, came in, removing the cap from his head in token of respect for the presence he was in. laughing. "My drawbridge once up, and no The governor turned in his chair and recog- monarch in Europe sits as firmly on his throne nized the man. as I do. Would to heaven his majesty was half "Well, Christopher, " he said, " what news as safe in Versailles !" from the city ? A little more quiet, I hope." "Nay, I think the people hate the man they " Not a bit," answered the keeper, promptly. } call their tyrant of the Bastile worse than they "I have been among the clubs, as you bade me, do the monarch at Versailles," said the keeper, and have made my observations. The feeling a little maliciously —for cruel men are very seldom kind to each other. of discontent grows stronger and stronger." "Let them hale," laughed the governor. "It "Well, what do they expect to accomplish by grumbling, the varlets ? I wish we had them will be a long time before their malice can reach here, Christopher ; a week or two of such lodg- him." "Yes, as I said, the walls are thick." ings and fare as we could give them, would " And here comes my supper, Christopher, bring down their courage. We have that whole lower range of cells unoccupied now, for our which your news from the city shall not spoil, ” Louis is chicken-hearted about sending his sub- cried the governor, interrupting his subordijects here, merely to oblige his friends ; and he nate, as a door was opened, and a daintilyhas no favorites, Marie Antoinette looks well to arranged table revealed in the next roem. "Step in, though, and let me hear all the news that." "Yes ; and she it is who prevents the prison you have gathered." The man stepped into the supper-room, and being full, as it was in the good old time, when we registered a lettre- de- cachet every day. It is stood leaning against the door- frame, while his this clemency that emboldens the people, and superior placed himself at the table. "It is the Bastile against which the people sets them clamoring for the thing they call liberty!' Liberty, indeed, we would give them hurl hatred, and launch their curses most 134

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bitterly," he said. " Thinking me one of themfor I wore this-they spoke freely enough. " Here Christopher took a red cap from his pocket, and shook it viciously, as if he hated the very color. The governor looked up and laughed again. " So they thought you one of their order, my poor Christopher, and took you into their confidence on the strength of that red abomination. { Well, when do they intend to tear down the Bastile ?" "Tear down the Bastile ! Have we not decided that the walls may defy them ?" replied the keeper, uneasily. "If I thought other"" wise.

nervous step, which soon brought him to the keeper, who keenly regarded him during his progress. "A letter for the governor," said the stranger, promptly taking a folded paper from his girdle. "Where from?" questioned Christopher. "Directly from Versailles. Besides this, I am intrusted with a message which can only be given in person ; oblige me by saying so much in my behalf." Christopher took the letter and held it between his teeth, while the ponderous machinery of the bridge was put in motion again, and the whole fabric loomed up. The stranger started as he saw the huge "Well, what then, my good Christopher?" "Why, then I should be glad to exchange fabric uplifted like some massive gate rising between him and the world he had left ; but he places with any prisoner in the cells." "A hard alternative, Christopher," said the made no protest, and only grew a little paler governor, smiling over his well-filled plate, than before, as the awful blackness of its shadow "and one not likely to happen. But we must fell upon him. be careful. If the rabble hate us, as you say, "There is no danger from any one on this side," muttered the keeper, moving slowly away, we must do nothing to arouse them." That moment the loud clangor of a bell leaving the stranger standing by the guard ; sounded down the passages of the prison. "but in these times it is hardly safe to admit "What is that, Christopher ?" inquired the even a stripling like that after dark." governor, laying down his knife and fork with He found the governor deep in his meal, something like consternation. which he enjoyed with the zest of a man who "Some one claiming admittance, who rings has few sources of occupation or amusement, boldly, either an enemy, or an officer under and, therefore, gives free scope to the appetite. authority of the law, I should say," answered He was just filling a glass of wine as Christhe keeper. topher came in, and holding it up, smiled to see " Go and see, Christopher . " its amber hues sparkle inthe lamplight. Indeed, The keeper went out, passed from the prison he was too pleasantly occupied for any rememto the drawbridge, and looked across the moat, brauce of the errand on which the keeper had swollen and green with stagnant water, saw a gone. single, slight figure claiming a passage over "Ah ! is it you again, my Christopher ?" he said, draining the glass with a mellow smack of both by voice and gesture. .. Why was the bell rung ?" asked Christopher the lips. "Well, what news ? The bell rang, if I remember. What unreasonable person was so of the guard. "Because it is some one with an order for the bold ?" governor. He held up a paper." "It is a messenger from Versailles, your excellency ; some one with a letter, and a special "Is he quite alone ?" "Yes, I saw him dismount from a tired horse, message to yourself." "From Versailles ? Let him in; let him in. which you may yourself discover standing within the shadow of yonder building." It is not often that Louis the Sixteenth requires " Let down the drawbridge ; but see that but my services. That is why the rabble has dared one man enters- it may be a messenger from to lift its clamor against the Bastile. If he the court." would but crowd the old prison from foundaDirectly the great chains of the drawbridgetion to roof with the disaffected, there would be began to shake and rattle, the mighty hinges no more cries of ' Down with the Bastile !' in the turned with ponderous heaviness, and the great streets of Paris. Let the king's messenger premass of wood fell slowly downward, spanning sent himself, he is welcome. " Christopher went out, and directly returned the gulf of dark waters from wall to wall, like with the page in close company. When this a causeway leading directly through Hades. A slight figure left the opposite side of the person was seen in the full glare of the light, moat, and crossed the bridge with a quick, the appearance of extreme youth vanished. He

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 EDITOR'S

TABLE.

EDITORIAL CHIT- CHAT. CARDS, WEDDING-CARDS, ETC.- Our fair subscribers will GIVING CROQUET-PARTIES is an art in itself. Informal thank us, we know, for giving them occasional hints on the ones may be got up at a few hours' notice. These must be changes in fashion, in relation to cards of invitation and small, however and the guests must be selected with tact; other matters of visiting etiquette. This season the phras for unless in a large party it will not do to bring people ing of cards is slightly altered. People begin to drop the together who do not thoroughly harmonize. A few re- "At Home," as old-fashioned, especially in invitations to freshments, in these impromptu parties, are quite sufficient. wedding receptions, and other very formal occasions. The Too much in the way of eating and drinking, on such occa- invitation formula for a ceremonious wedding, therefore, sions, is in bad taste. But if the party is intended to be a differs a little from the style which has hitherto prevailed. large one, the preparations of every kind should be different. The square note-sheet, with the white or embossed monoThere should be regular cards of invitation, and these should gram of the initials of bride and bridegroom, is still rebe the same as those for a dance, viz., " Mrs. ——, at home," { quired, the collocation of phrases being the same as forwith this difference, that, instead of " Dancing" being writ. merly. The monogram appears at the top. About one-fourth ten on them, " Croquet and Tea" take its place, and the down from the top is the word " ceremony." A few lines hours named are " three to seven o'clock," or whatever below appears the name of the place. Still beneath, the other hours are preferred. The numbers invited for cro- name of the street. Still beneath, on another line, in what quet only, are from twenty to fifty; but this is a matter part of the street, as between Broadway and Sixth Avenue, depending on the pleasure of the hostess. During the after- or between Walnut and Chestnut streets ; and finally, at the noon two tables are laid out by the servants, either under foot of the page, the day of the ceremony. Within this sheet the trees or the veranda, but usually where the process of is the wedding reception-card issued by the bride's parents, preparation can be carried on without much observation. which, instead of reading " Mr. and Mrs. - at home," One long table should be for tea, coffee, biscuits, and cakes with date, hour, and number of street, as formerly, is in the of various kinds, also plates of white and brown bread and form ofa script invitation. Thus: "Mr. and Mrs. butter; the other, smaller, for champagne and claret cup in glass jugs, small tumblers in abundance, and a few wine- Request (or desire) the pleasure of your company at the genthe glasses ; and to this table it is generally found that wedding reception of their daughter." tlemen of the party resort instead of to the former one. To Date, hour of the day, and number are in Roman text as these refreshments, in the case of a very large party, may before ; and a second card announcing the reception days of flowers, case either biscuits. In the bride is inserted. The insertion of a card, bearing the be added ices, sherry, and tastefully arranged, should on no account be omitted. name of the mother of the bridegroom, may be noted also Should the numbers exceed fifty, dancing also usually goes as an innovation which has made its way rapidly, and is beon, as it is not often that more than four games of croquet coming quite customary and proper. A new form of cards of announcement has also made its are played at the same time on one lawn, and as these would only occupy thirty-two guests at once, it is desirable appearance, and, from its exceeding simplicity, is fast winto provide some amusement for the rest of the company. ning popular favor. It consists of a single card, instead of We may here mention that eight in each game is the usual the two tied with white satin ribbon, with the name of the number, but some prefer only six, as making a shorter bridegroom prefaced with " Mr. and Mrs.," and the maiden game. A sofa here and there on the lawn is very desirable, name of the bride in the right hand lower corner. The also chairs placed together in groups of three or four in name of the bride is preceded by nee-the card running different parts, and there should be one or two near the simply: Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Mason, game, as they are always acceptable to those who are waiting for their turn to play, and for these the most shady (Nee Emma Wilson.) Avenue. Fifth 1001 spots will be best. When croquet is the only amusement, most of the ladies wear short costumes; but at larger par- A note-sheet accompanies, and the envelope, with white ties, where there is dancing, dresses with slight trains are or embossed monogram, is used. But even in anniversary admissible, (especially in white figured piques,) and these weddings, it is now the custom to omit the phrase " At are looped up in front over a blue, rose, or mauve camlet home" -issuing instead a regular note of invitation in petticoat, with a rosette to match the petticoat. Hats are engraved script. Among some of the most fashionable people, it is now the universally worn, and taken off when dancing begins. When the announcement " croquet and dancing" is on the practice to omit the initials of the French phrases formerly card, many young ladies wear light silk, or white, clear so popular, and to write instead, in pencil, plain English, muslin over a colored petticoat. Some do not join in both such as " good-by," " we go out of town," " condolences," amusemements, a choice being always at their option, but " congratulations," etc., etc. This is a very sensible reform. if intending to do so, they provide themselves with black AN EFFECTUAL REMEDY for the insect tribes that infest our satin shoes for the dancing. It is better, if you owe many civilities, to return them all, at once, by a large party for gardens, such as worms, bugs, etc., etc., is as follows:-Mix both croquet and dancing; and these day-parties, in sum- In three or four gallons of warm water one pound of black mer, and in the country, are much to be preferred to even- or white hellebori, and add to this eight or ten pails of water. Apply to the infested trees, bushes, or vines, any ing ones, In England they are called Lawn Parties. way you please, but a syringe is best. The cure will be immediate and certain. We have tried it on apple-tree worms, IT 18 NOT TOO SOON to begin to get up clubs for 1870. gooseberry and currant worms, and also the rose louse. Every year we receive letters, in which the writers say they could have raised larger clubs, if they had begun carMORE FOR THE MONEY, and of a better quality of its kind, lier. A specimen number will be sent, gratis, to every is given in this Magazine, than in any one published. Whatperson wishing to get up a club. ever other magazine you take, take " Peterson" first. 230

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 REVIEW

OF NEW

VELOCIPEDS ARE Going out of FASHION, as they are found, } in many cases, to produce dislocations of the upper extremities, fractions and sprains. Accidents, too, are very frequent. In short, they are dangerous as toys, and, on the whole, not beneficial to health.

“ WE THINK THIS THE CHEAPEST, and one of the best Magazines in the Universe," says the Bryan (0.) Democrat, speaking of Peterson's Magazine. "No one can do without it." www . REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS . He Knew He Was Right. By Anthony Trollope. 1 vol. 8vo. New York: Harper & Brothers.-The second part of this novel, completing the work, has now appeared. To us it is not a pleasant story. The dissensions of a young married couple are always painful to hear of in real life, and merely painful things, which do not rise to the heroic in their tragedy, are hardly fit subjects for fiction. " There is as much genius in choosing your theme," said a great writer to us once, as there is in developing it afterward." In “ He Knew He Was Right," both man and wife act with contemptible silliness. The motive in the main plot is indescribably mean and petty. Mr. Trollope seems to have realized this, when too late, for he introduces other plots, so to speak, that interweave themselves with the original one, and lighten up and dignify the book, at least in a degree. These subsidiary stories, with their heroes, and heroines, and other characters, are the best parts of the work. Miss Stansbury, the eccentric old maiden aunt, particularly, is a real original. The volume is illustrated. Three Seasons in European Vineyards. By William J. Flagg. 1 vol., 12 mo. New York: Harper & Brothers. The author of this volume is a son-in-law of the late Mr. Longworth, of Cincinnati, and himself a successful grower of grapes and maker of wine. A few years ago he visited Europe ; and this little book is the result. Mr. Flagg went to all the great wine-growing districts, from Bordeaux to the Rhine, from Naples to Burgundy, and treats fully and understandingly of vine-culture ; vine-disease and its cure ; wine-making and wines, red and white ; and wine-drinking, as affecting health and morals. He is an enthusiastic advocate of the raising and drinking of light wines, especially red wines, as cheap and healthful substitutes for tea and coffee; and thinks the time will come, when every farmer, on half an acre of land, will raise enough wine to supply himself and family for breakfast, dinner, and supper. The Sacristan's Household. By the author of "Mabel's Progress." 1 vol., 8 vo. New York: Harper & Brothers.— The writer of this excellent story, we understand, is not a daughter of Charles Dickens, as has been asserted, but the wife of Adolphus Trollope, author of " Beppo," " Gemma," "Leonora Casaloni," etc., etc. The scene of her novel is laid in Lippe-Detmold, a little known, but picturesque German principality. The tale is fresh, genial, and natural. The characters have a certain old-world air about them, which is as spicy and exhilarating as the fragrance of their own pine forests. The volume is handsomely illustrated. Five Acres Too Much. By R. B. Roosevelt, 1 vol., 12 mo. New those York:enthusiastic Harper & Brothers.-This bookwho is intended to quiz agricultural writers fancy that only half a dozen acres, well-tilled, are enough to suppert a man and his family. It is a pretended narrative of expe riences, something in the vein of the " Sparrowgrass Papers," and will raise many a hearty laugh. My Daughter Elinor. 1 vol., 8 vo. New York: Harper & Brothers.-This is an American novel, by an anonymous writer, but it is, what is rare, a really praiseworthy one. The characters are types of the American people at large. Stretton. By Henry Kingsley. 1 vol., 8 vol. New York: Harper & Brothers -Not as good as " Ravenshoe," by the same author, but still a novel full of stir and life.

BOOKS.

231

Dream Numbers. By T. Adolphus Trollope. 1 vol., 12 mo. Philada: T. B. Peterson & Brothers.- The Italians, even in this advanced nineteenth century, are much given to lotteries, and to believing in dreams. One of the most curious things, in Rome or Florence, is to see the crowds around the lottery-offices, on the day that a drawing is to be announced. The present novel is founded on a real incident, that of a person who dreamed of certain fortunate numbers in a lottery, and is written with that thorough feeling for, and knowledge of, Italian life, which makes these stories by Adolphus Trollope so interesting and instructive. One might travel in Italy for months, if not years, without learning as much of the habits, manuers, and modes of thought of the Italian people, as by reading one or two of these tales For ourselves, we never found them dull, but always regret when we have finished them, Athaliah. By J. H. Greene, Jr. 1 vol., 12 mo. New York: Carleton. This is a story of ancient Jewish life, and turns on the rebellion of Absalom against King David. It is full of stirring incidents and of glowing pictures of Palestine, but is too long, like nine-tenths of the novels now written. Is no one, in these latter times, capable ofwriting a tale with the unity, precision, and power of " Ellen Wareham," where the reader is taken up, as it were, in a whirl. wind, and remains breathless to the close ? We believe that " Ellen Wareham" is out of print, for it was a novel of the last generation ; but it would pay some bookseller to republish it: that is, if every person who was about to write a story, would first buy and study this real master-piece before inflicting their own sham one on the public. Hans Breitmann's Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. 1 vol., small 8vo. Philada: T. B. Peterson & Brothers.- We have here, complete in one volume, handsomely bound in morocco cloth, gilt and gilt-edged, or in half-calf, the entire ballads of the now famous " Hans Breitmann." The humor of these ballads is universally acknowledged, not only in this country, but in England also : in their way, they are nearly perfect. We are glad, therefore, to see them in a dress so entirely worthy of them. "Hans Breitmann" ought to be in every library ; for it is a book that will live, like the "Bigelow Papers," and be quoted, years hence, as an exponent of real American humor. Problematic Characters. By Frederick Spielhagen. 1 vol., 12 mo. New York: Leypoldt & Holt.- The two most popular novelists of Germany, in our day, are Auerbach and Spielhagen. While everybody is reading " On the lleights," and "The Villa on the Rhine," by the former writer, we thank Leypoldt & Holt for introducing to the public, in this admirable work of fiction, his great cotemporary and rival. Like Auerbach, Spielhagen is rather long-winded, but not quite so much so, and in that respect he is to be preferred, for, really, life is too short to read many such books as "The Villa on the Rhine." The work before us comes within five hundred pages, whereas the " Villa" makes a thousand. Artemus Ward's Panorama. 1 vol., 12 mo. New York: Carleton. This little book is edited by the executors of the late Artemus Ward. It is the series of lectures that was delivered at Egyptian Hall, in London, and is illustrated with thirty-four engravings, all full of fun. The volume deserves, and will have, an immense sale. Mopsa the Fairy. By Jean Ingelow. With Illustrations. 1 vol., 16 mo. Boston : Roberts Brothers.-A charming little book, which, though written for children, grown-up men and women will be glad to read. There are several pretty songs scattered through the volume. Sights and Sensations in France, Germany, and Switzerland. By E. G. Buffum. 1 vol., 12 mo. New York: Harper & Brothers.-A racy narrative of a run through Europe, full of point and force, and well worth reading, even by those who have been over the same ground themselves.

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 232

OUR ARM- CHAIR.

THE WIFE'S DEPARTMENT.

OUR ARM - CHAIR. WHAT THE PRESS SAYS.-The newspapers, with extraordinary unanimity, pronounce " Peterson's Magazine," the best and cheapest of all the lady's books. These newspapers see all the monthlies, and when they give this verdict in favor of " Peterson," they speak of " that which they do know." Says the Western (Mo.) Landmark :-"No magazine can compare with Peterson. " Says the Allentown (Pa.) Vindicator:-" This Magazine contains more for the money than any in the world." Says the Appleton (Wis.) Crescent :"Should be in every household in the country." Says the Bennettsville (S. C.) Journal:-"The fashion-plates are unequaled." Says the Decatur (Mich.) Republican :—“ The best Magazine published for the price." Says the Minneapolis (Minn.) Union :-" Peterson for August is at hand. It is, without doubt, the cheapest of the many magazines, as well as the best." Says the Kingston (N. Y.) Press :-" The Work-Table department is unequaled." The Cape Girardeau (Mo.) Democrat says :-" Deservedly the most popular of all the monthlies." Says the New Lisbon (0.) Patriot :-"The best and cheapest Magazine in America." Says the Albion (Mich.) Mirror :-" The reading matter is from the best female authors of the country 19 The London (C. W.) Prototype says :—“ Its contents are of surpassing artistic and literary merit." Says the Mechanic Falls (Me.) Herald:"Just what everybody needs in the house." The Batesville (Ark.) Times says : -"The number before us is superb.'' The Springfield (Mass.) Union says :-"The favorite Maga zine with the ladies. " The Peeksville (N. Y.) Enterprise says :-" Contaizs a splendid steel engraving, but what makes it still more attractive, is the attractive stories." The Douglas (Mass.) Herald says :-In point of literary merit it is unsurpassed." The Lapeer (Mich.) Clarion says :-" There is an interest and fascination about the stories of this Magazine which few publications possess." The Reading ( Pa.) Gazette says :-" Becoming more popular daily, and deservedly so." Says the Boston ( Mass.) Banner of Light :"Its brilliant fashion-plates are fresh from Paris." The Coburg (C. W.) Sentinel says :-"The literary contents are of the best description, being from the first writers of America." We could give, if we had space, hundreds of similar notices. But these are enough to prove to our subscribers that they take the best and cheapest ofthe lady's books. W. F. TAYLOR, Berlin, N. Y., says : "I have a Wheeler & Wilson Machine, ( No. 289, ) bought of Mr. Gardner in 1853, ho having used it a year. I have used it constantly in shirt manufacturing, as well as family sewing, sixteen years. My wife ran it four years, and earned between seven hundred and eight hundred dollars, besides doing her housework. I have never expended fifty cents on it for repairs. It is today in the best of order, stitching fine linen bosoms nicely. I started manufacturing shirts with this machine, and now have over one hundred of them in use. I have paid at least three thousand dollars for the stitching done by this old machine, and it will do as much now as any machine I have." ADVERTISEMENTS inserted in this periodical at reasonable rates. "Peterson" is the most valuable vehicle in the United States for advertising, for it has a larger circulation than any other Magazine, and goes to every town, village, and cross-roads in the Nation. For terms, etc., address PETERSON'S MAGAZINE, 306 Chestnut street, Philadelphia,

A COPY of" Peterson's Magazine," and a copy of the " Star of Bethlehem ," will be sent to one address for $2.50. Address C. J. Peterson, No. 306 Chestnut street, Philada., Pa. " IN ITS PECULIAR FIELD," says the Vergennes (Vt.) Vermonter, "Peterson's Magazine is the ladies' favorite. It defies competition ."

THE WIFE'S DEPARTMENT. HOW TO COOK A CHOP.-A mutton-chop is one of the best things in the world, if properly cooked : it is one of the worst ifnot cooked rightly. We are old-fashioned enough to think that a wife ought to know how to cook, even if she is so rich that she never needs to do any cooking herself, and, therefore, we shall give our fair readers, with their permission, a hint or two about cooking mutton-chops. It may help them out some time, in getting up an appetizing repast, when nothing but mutton-chops can be had. The requisites for serving up a good mutton-chop are, that the chop should be cut properly; that there should be a bright, clear, fierce fire ; that the chop should be broiled, and not fried ; and that the cook should turn it quickly, at the right moment, and know exactly, by the change of color on the surface of the chop, when that right moment has come. A few chops, under these conditions, make a dinner of themselves. The first thing is to have the chop cut properly. This is really the butcher's business. But butchers, like other people, frequently do not know the things they ought to know, and many of them, especially in country towns, are ignorant how to cut a chop artistically. It ought to be sawed, and not cut, (to be critical in our phraseology,) and should be at least an inch or an inch and a quarter thick, Ifit is too thin it will not contain sufficient gravy to keep { the interior in a soft and tender condition, and in spite of all the care possible, it will become hard and tasteless in cooking. The fat, of course, must be trimmed according to taste ; it is a good plan, where a number of chops are served up together, to trim them differently, so that all tastes may be suited. If there is the slightest suspicion about their tenderness, they should be well beaten with a knife-handlə or silver spoon, about an hour before cooking them, taking care not to alter their natural shape. The next consideration is the fire. This should be a bed of live coals, hickory being the best, where wood can be had, or is used. If anthracite, or bituminous, coal is employed, the fire should be intensely hot, without smoke. It is generally dangerous to touch a fire during cooking. Make a good fire at first, and the rest is comparatively easy. The gridiron, of course, should be scrupulously clean, and should be placed well slanting forward, so that the fat may trickle along the bars, and drop into the fire away from the chop, otherwise the chop will be scorched. The chop should never be turned with a fork, for this lets out all the most delicious gravy. A couple ofsilver spoons, properly handled, will turn it much better. This may seem a trifling point; but it is really a very important one. Let us look into the philosophy of it for a moment. Chemists tell us, that raw meat consists principally of fibrin and certain juices holding albumen and various salts in solution. This fibrin, or solid portion of the flesh, constitutes only about one-quarter of the weight of the meat, the rest being made of a watery fluid containing the albumen and salts. The liquid portion is held by the fibrin much in the same waythat water is held in a sponge; but as soon as the fibrin is submitted to the action of heat, it contracts and squeezes out these juices, which contain not only the greater portion of the nourishment, but also the flavor of the meat. The fibrin from which the juices have been separated contains scarcely any nourishment, and is almost tasteless. On the other hand, the cooked juices are sapid and full of flavor and nourishment. Hence, it is very important not to lose these juices, by sticking a fork into the chop. Of course, it is even worse to overdo the chop, and nearly as bad not to turn it at the right moment. Let us follow this up. You put your chop down to a bright, clear, and even somewhat fierce fire. The first thing that happens is the coagulation of a portion of the albumen on the under-side of the chop, and a contraction of the fibrin which draws the juices into the center. If you leave your

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A spare-rib of three-quarters of a pound requires ten chop untouched, the meat will gradually harden all the way through, driving the juices before it, and causing them to minutes over a " strong fire." A beef-steak of the same weight seven minutes. overflow into the fire from the upper-side. To counteract A mutton-cutlet, six minutes. this you must turn your chop over the instant the underA mutton kidney, spitted, four minutes. side begins to harden. As soon as what was at first the A veal-cutlet, nine minutes. upper-side is sufficiently hard, which generally happens with a good fire in a minute or so, it is turned once more, A mutton-chop, trimmed and bread-crumbled, requires ten minutes over a " slow fire." and so on until the operation is complete. In fact, a game of battledore and shuttlecock must be played with the chop; A mutton-chop, trimmed and bread-crumbled, requires the moment the juices have been driven into the middle of ten minutes over a " slow fire." He adds that it is a great mistake to spare fuel in boiling; the meat it must be turned, and the turning repeated continually, so that each side may be done alike. The length of much good meat is lost by being imperfectly cooked, so as time for cooking a chop properly must depend on the fierce- to economize a few handfuls of coals, and he is undoubtedly ness ofthe fire and the tastes ofthe individual. Ten minutes, right. In my opinion we can only deduce from all these and at least ten turnings may be taken as the shortest period experiments very useful information, but no rules. One when the fire is brisk, and when an underdone chop is pre- acquires from study and observation alone the art of taking ferred ; but there is no royal road to chop-cooking, and per- a gridiron from the fire at the exact moment that the cookfection in it can only be attained by practice and a fairing is finished. amount of intelligence. PICKLES AND CATCHUPS. After cooking your chop, " after catching your bird," the next thing is to eat it. Some persons load their plate with To Pickle Red Cabbage.-Choose,a medium-sized fresh, red vegetables of every kind in season ; and with pepper, mus- cabbage; take off the coarse onter leaves ; quarter it ; retard, sauce, and half a dozen other incongruities. But we move the stalk; cut the cabbage into slices of about the prefer, for ourselves, good bread and a mealy potato. Cut third of an inch in thickness ; place it in a bowl ; strew boldly into the middle of the chop, and soak your bread and among it two good handfuls of salt ; let the whole stand for potato in the delicious gravy that follows the knife, and you twenty-four hours, stirring it once or twice ; drain it as dry will realize that there are few things as good, and nothing as possible ; place it loosely in wide-mouthed jars, and fill better. Perhaps, if you wish perfection, you will use adash up with strong, raw vinegar, adding pepper-corns, capof mushroom catchup. sicums, pieces of ginger, or what other spice you may fancy. A final word of advice. If you want a new bonnet, cook This in a day or two will be of a splendid crimson color, and uch a chop for your husband, and after he has eaten it, ask eat deliciously crisp. Those cooks who prefer to boil their or the millinery. Our word for it, you will get the bonnet. vinegar and spices in an iron pot, and forthwith pour the pickle boiling hot upon the cabbage, may reasonably expect to find the latter limp, ill-flavored, and of a dismal purplish blue. The caution here given respecting the boiling the vinegar in an iron vessel is perfectly correct. For if OUR NEW COOK - BOOK. done, a small quantity ofthe metal will be dissolved by the Every receipt in this Cook-Book has been tested by a acid, and, although perfectly wholesome, alter materially the fine color which is so much esteemed in this pickle. practical housekeeper. To Pickle Mushrooms.-Throw the smallest mushrooms WE give this month a few more of Baron Brisse's fine you can find into spring-water, and rub them with a piece receipts. From the remains of roast poultry, especially turkey, a of flannel dipped in salt, throwing them back into the cold water as you do them: this makes them keep their color. great delicacy can be made. Hashed Turkey a la Creme.- Chop very fine the pieces of Put them into a sauce-pan, strew a handful of salt over them, meat, after having carefully removed the bones, and season cover them closely, and place them over the fire for four or them with salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Chop equally fine five minutes until they are thoroughly hot, and the liquor some shallots, and parsley ; put over the fire, in a sauce-pan, is quite drawn out of them. Lay them to cool between two a lump of butter and some flour; stir, then moisten with clean cloths ; put them in glass bottles, filling up with the cream or milk, or, what is still better, half of either, with best distilled vinegar. It is very essential that the vinegar half broth, and the shallots and parsley ; season with salt, should be good, as, if too sharp, the mushrooms will be pepper, and nutmeg, and let it stew gently for at least softened by it, and they will neither keep so long nor look twenty minutes. When the sauce has good consistency, so white as they ought. Tomato Chow-Chow.-One peck of green tomatoes bruised, incorporate the hashed turkey, draw the sauce-pan to the corner of the range, and serve it hot, without letting it half a dozen onions, sliced, half a dozen chillies, if to be obboil. To send to the table, turn the hash out on a dish and tained ; sprinkle over them halfa pint of salt ; let it stand surround it with a border of fried bread and poached eggs. over night, then drain off the brine ; cover it with good Poached Eggs.-Put salted water, acidulated with a little vinegar ; let it cook in the oven one hour slowly, then drain vinegar, in a sauce-pan over a slow fire. When this water and pack in a jar ; take one pound of sugar, one tableboils, withdraw the sauce-pan to the other side of the range, spoonful each of cinnamon, allspice, cloves, and pepper, one so that the ebullition shall not become too violent. Break half-cup of ground mustard, and vinegar enough to mix perfectly fresh eggs, one after another, above the sauce-pan, thin; boil together, when boiling pour over the pulp in the and let them fall cautiously into the boiling water. When jar, and cover tight. Then it is ready for use, and will keep they are sufficiently hard take them out gently with a skim- for mouths. To Pickle Nasturtiums.-Very frequently nasturtiums are mer, watching carefully lest they break; put them to drain merely thrown into seasoned vinegar; they should be on a plate and serve. When Jules Gouffe wrote his "Cook-Book" be made a gathered when it is sunshiny weather. Although this series of experiments, at the end of which he felt able to method answers tolerably well, it is preferable to put the declare that on a well-made fire, that is to say, composed of freshly-picked nasturtiums into a strong brine of salt-andlive coals extended on ashes for several inches beyond the water, and let them remain in this till they grow somewhat gridiron, the bed of the coals being an inch thick for a soft; then place them in a good deal of strong vinegar, and strong fire," and half an inch for a "slow fire :" they will keep for years.

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 feast you freely, but you would spurn my dainties, saving such of you as are like me, pensioned off on a son’s bounty, and his son and his son’s wife have meted out to him for his portion two chambers which were reserved for tinkers and pedlars—but you know it all.”

Among the neighbours who had come thither was also the mayor, and he said, “Pantata, you would not have to dwell in those chambers. Joseph promises you that he will not meddle with you in the pension house.”

“Ha! ha!” laughed Loyka, “and so you believe him, do you? This man who went against me like an enemy until he had stripped me of everything! Of my rights of hospodarship, of my respect with the servants, of the love of my children, and of this last span of earth on which I had laid my head. If he were to stretch out his hand to this cross, and lay it here in the side of the martyred Jesus, I would say to him, ‘Thou liest’.”

On this no one spoke more. The neighbours saw that it would be in vain, and Joseph perhaps said nothing, because he saw that every further step he took only the more incensed his father. Only here and there among themselves the neighbours exchanged a few desultory remarks.

And after a while Loyka began to speak again almost meekly, as though he were fit to cry. “What injury have I done you, my neighbours, that ye have leagued yourselves against me with yonder fellow? I always avoid you all, I do not get in any one’s way, I do not beg anything at your hands, I creep away like the field-mouse beneath the hedgerow, for many years ye have not heard my voice, I suffer and am mute; what do ye find so sickening in me that you come to the cemetery against me as against a savage beast?”

This speech excited the neighbours’ compassion, they felt that they ought not to have yielded so easily to Joseph’s summons, and that old Loyka deserved more consideration at their hands than that they should have allowed themselves to bustle off as to a spectacle: just as when we wish to see something which is not to be seen every day. Even Joseph felt too well that he had invited them to play an ungracious part, and therefore used his best endeavours to turn their attention from his father and himself, and to concentrate it upon the grave-digger: on whom he thought it high time to be revenged; and he began to talk as though it was Bartos alone who hindered his father from returning home, and here he began to threaten his neighbours with the


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MISCELLANEOUS RECEIPTS.

FASHIONS.

MISCELLANEOUS RECEIPTS. Pickle Chow-chow .-A quarter of a peck of green tomatoes, Elder Flower Wine.-Allow three pounds of sugar for a quarter of a peck of white onions, a quarter of a peck of every gallon of wine ; and in putting the water, great care pickling beans, one dozen green cucumbers, one dozen green must be taken to avoid allowing more than will make the peppers, one large head of cabbage. Season with mustard, right quantity of wine, as the allowance of three pounds of celery-seed, salt to suit the taste. Cover the mixture with sugar to the gallon should not be at all curtailed. Place the the best vinegar, Boil two hours slowly, continually stirsugar in an earthen pan sufficiently large, or in a wooden ring, and add two tablespoonfuls of salid-oil while hot. vessel in which water has stood for a day and a night. Gather for every gallon of wine to be made one quart of FASHIONS FOR SEPTEMBER. elder-flowers ; cut from the stalks, and pour boiling water over them, allowing a pint of water to every quart of flowers. FIG. 1.- WALKING-DRESS OF SULTAN-COLORED SILK.- The Cover them close until cold. Then add the flowers and their skirt is made with one deep flounce, pointed at the top and liquor to the sugar, and as much water as will make the bottom, bound with black silk, and put on with a narrow quantity of wine desired. Let it work by stirring in yeast, bias band ; a deep, full puff without trimming falls nearly allowing a tablespoonful to every gallon ; cover it with a to the top of the flounce at the back. The small mantilla, cloth; stir it thoroughly every day for three or four days.round at the back, with long, square ends in front, has a Then skim the surface clean, and tuu the wine, adding for round hood, and is trimmed to correspond with the skirt. every two gallons the juice ofone lemon, and the peel taken Black lace bonnet, with a sultan-colored agriette at the side. off, so as to divide the globules. As the wine works over, FIG. II.- EVENING- DRESS OF CANARY-COLORED TABLETAN.— fill up by dropping in raisins, previously cut, at the bung- The skirt is trimmed with three ruffles ; the bottom one exhole, a quarter of a pound to every gallon. The time the tends all around the skirt ; the other two finish the two full wine continues to work in the cask will depend on the puffs at the back, and in the middle are fastened by two weather, position, etc., but it will generally be ready to wide satin bows ; a row of smaller bows trims the front of have the bung put over the hole in a week, and fastened the dress. The effectiveness of this dress is very much indown a few days later. It may be drank at the end of six creased by the white flowers, with black velvet leaves which ornament it. The hair is studded with white flowers and months, but it will be better if kept in the cask a year. Milk-Toast.- Boil a pint of rich milk, and then take it off black leaves. FIG. III.-EVENING-DRESS OF APRICOT-COLORED SATIN.-The and stir into it a quarter of a pound of fresh butter mixed with a small tablespoonful of flour. Then let it again come lower-skirt has only a rich quilling of satin ; the upper-skirt to a boil. Have ready two deep plates, with half a dozen is very short, and is of blue satin, trimmed with ruffles and slices of toast in each. Pour the milk over them hot, and puffings of satin. There is a low, square, blue waist attached keep them covered till they go to table. Milk-toast is gener- to the skirt, which comes just below the quilling of the ally eaten at breakfast. The warming of the bread gradually apricot-colored waist. through, on both sides, is a very great improvement upon FIG. IV.- HOUSE-Dress of Green STRIPED SILK.-The long the quality of the toast. All kinds of toast must be done skirt has one bias flounce of medium width; the low corthe same way ; but if to be served under a bird, eggs, or sage is covered in front and at the back with a white muslin kidneys, it requires to be toasted drier. Dry toast should cape, trimmed with Valenciennes, and fastened on the shoulnot be made until quite ready to serve ; when done, place it der by a bow of green ribbon. A similar bow ornaments the in a toast-rack, or upon its edges, one piece resting against front. Broad ribbon sash at the back, and long, close sleeves. FIG. V.- CARRIAGE-DRESS OF LIGHT Claret-Colored POPanother. Any kind of toast that has been made half an hour is not worth eating. LIN. The skirt is quite plain. Confection of black silk. It Lard.-Leaf lard is the nicest for all cooking purposes ; is quite short in front, but at the back it falls low, and is skin all the fat that is to be fried into lard, and commence trimmed with a ruffle; the side-pieces and square cape are by frying gently a little leaf lard, or your fat will scorch ; trimmed with lace ; from the cape at the back to where the let it cook slowly, and dip off the fat as fast as it is liquefied, side-pieces meet, a puffing of silk gives it the appearance of and strain it through a cloth ; when all is strained that can a Watteau Mantle. Small Versailles hat. be dipped off, squeeze the remainder by itself in the cloth. FIG. VI.-WALKING-DRESS OF STONE-COLORED POPLIN.-The If the lard is to be used for cooking, salt it a trifle when first under-skirt is made with two deep ruffles, not put on very put on; much of the salt will be found at the bottom of the full; the upper-skirt and body are cut in one, forming a kettle undissolved ; still it would seem better that salt should deep casaque, which opens in front, and is looped up in two be used. places on each side, and trimmed with fringe. Milk-Punch.-(1.) Pare the rind off twelve lemons and FIG. VII - WALKING- DRESS OF VIOLET-COLORED POPLIN.-The two Seville oranges thinly; put them to steep in six pints of lower-skirt is trimmed with three deep flounces put on infull rum, brandy, or whisky for twenty-four hours, then add two plaits. The upper-skirt and body (all in one) is of dark-gray pounds of loaf-sugar, three pints of water, two nutmegs, poplin, trimmed with a plaiting like that on the lower-skirt. grated, and one pint of lemon-juice ; stir it till the sugar is GENERAL REMARKS. - The bodice of white muslin is made dissolved, then take three pints of new milk, boiling hot, and in small puffs, open in front, and trimmed with black or pour on the ingredients : let it stand twelve hours, closely colored velvet. Black velvet bows upon the sleeves and covered; strain through a jelly-bag till quite clear ; bottle it. bosom. (2.) Pare eighteen lemons very thin, infuse the peel in one THE ISABEAU BODICE is of black or colored silk, cut low quart of rum, and keep it closely covered. The next day and square, and ornamented with a deep lace border, standsqueeze the juice of the eighteen lemons over four pounds ing up like old-fashioned collarettes. Short sleeves, puffed, of white sugar, and keep this also closely covered. The trimmed with two lace borders. Sash with wide lapels and third day mix the above ingredients together, and add bow of a new shape. three quarts more of rum (or else one quart of rum and two THE CHEMISE RUSSE is of white cashmere, trimmed with quarts ofbest cognac, which is preferred by some,) and five rows of blue velvet ; red, green, violet, or black velvet may quarts ofwater that has been boiled, but is cold when added, be employed in place of the blue, or black, violet, red, or also two quarts of boiling milk ; stir the whole mixture for blue cashmere may be used, as fancy dictates. about ten minutes, cover close, and let it stand for aboutthree We also give the latest novelties in the way of bonnets hours, until quite cold ; strain through a flannel-bag two or and hats- nothing very different from those which have three times till quite clear. In bottling care should be taken been worn ; but it is too early in the season for any decided that the corks fit tight, and it will keep three or four years. change.

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The chemisette has become an important part of the less puffed out ; nor is this unbecoming when not exaggertoilet, now that so many bodices are worn open in frontated ; far from it, it sets off a slight figure to great advanor cut square. Among the new models we have seen this tage. When no puff is worn, the sash-bow is made very month the most elegant is the Raphael parure, forming a full, with a large number of coque loops, but no lappets, or stomacher of strips of insertion in lace and embroidery, very short, wide ones. SUGGESTIONS TO STOUT FIGURES.- Stout persons complain with a jabot formed of a wide strip of lace arranged in slightly gathered coils ; a double lace frill forms the collar. of the fashions now in vogue. Double skirts, panniers, and The sleeves are tight, with two strips of embroidery and bouffant sashe, are not for them. Tight casaques disclose one of lace in the middle, and a lace frill at the bottom. the figure too plainly, and shawls, gathered up over the The same style of square chemisette is made with wide arms, increase the appearance of the size. The best drapery strips of Valenciennes lace insertion, divided by garlands of for such ample figures is that which fits the shoulders leaves in embroidery to match with the pattern of the lace. closely, and hangs loosely below, such as shott, loose Two rows of Valenciennes lace form cravat ends in front. sacques without sleeves for young ladies, baschliks and manThe tight sleeves are trimmed with insertion and embroi tillas for those more advanced. Trained skirts give the apdery. A Scudery chemisette, open in the shape of a heart, pearance of less breadth. Short dresses are unbecoming, and formed of strips of Mechlin lace insertion, is trimmed and should be worn to touch the floor. An upper-skirt may round with a deep stand-up border of the same lace. Lace be outlined by a scant ruffle ten inches wide, on which two very narrow ruffles are placed. Folds and other flat trimruffles to correspond. The Elizabethan collars, of which we spoke above, are mings should be used by large ladies. Low-throated dresses becoming very fashionable ; they are called in Paris collars are becoming to short necks. A bonnet without a coronet a la Medicis. or face-trimming is best suited to broad faces, The chignon is no longer indispensable; we may add We only repeat ourselves when we attempt to describe the modes of making and trimming dresses. Never was the that it is given up by a large number of ladies of the best fashion so varied, as will be seen from the great variety of society. The hair is plaited and simply arranged, without the figures in the plates; but we have so often described the help of the least crepe. A great simplicity is about to what we think the prettiest styles, that we have nothing succeed to the elaborate coiffures we have seen too long; new to record till the colder weather, and the return of the curls or plaits will constitute all the ornament of the hair. fashionable world to Paris, will have induced the leading In front, the hair is still raised as high as possible, and the modistes to open their stores of novelties. But the following ears remain free. For quite young girls, two bandeaux are raised off in front, fastened very high at the back, and then hints may be useful in this mid-season. Silk, poplin, foulard, and mohair, may be either straight droop in curls, if long enough. All the rest of the hair is or bias, plaited or gathered. The flounces that require least left loose, in curls, or simply waved. If the hair is very material are bias and gathered scantily, with only one-fourth long, however, it is plaited, as above mentioned. additional fullness. Narrow silk flounces are sometimes raveled half an inch at the edges, others are notched like saw-teeth, or pinked in scallops. Again, there are points or CHILDREN'S FASHIONS. deep scallops, faced with silk, run together on the wrong FIG. 1.-A YOUNG GIRL'S DRES OF VIOLET-COLORED SILK.side and turned. Many of heavy silk are simply hemmed by the machine, and a few are bound with contrasting The skirt is trimmed with two ruffles, vandyked at both the colors. The plaits of flounces are fancifully arranged in top and bottom edge. Confection it. the shape of a skeleton groups ; two or three box-plaits are together, with a plain body of black silk. Violet hat, and white plume. FIG. II.- KNICKERBOCKER SUIT OF BROWN VELVETEEN, triminterval between, on which is a rosette or hollow bow. Others have clusters of plaits all turned one way. Fint med with black braid, for a boy. Glazed sailor hat. FIG. III.- DRESS OF BROWN MOHAIR, FOR A LITTLE GIRL.bands of plaits are lined with thin foundation, the material being hemmed over it loosely, the stitches not showing out- The skirt has three narrow ruffles, body and sleeves plain. side. On many suits are seen two frills a quarter of a yard An upper-dress of gray mohair has a low, square waist, and wide, while on others are five or seven frills a finger deep. { the skirt is looped up and trimmed with brown rosettes. Auother fancy is a wide ruffle above a narrow one. Many Hat of Chinese shape, trimmed with roses. FIG. IV. DRESS OF BLUE AND BLACK STRIPED POPLIN, FOR skirts have four inches of plain space below the frills. Boxplaited ruches of inch-wide satin ribbon are much worn on A YOUNG GIRL. The skirt, body, and sleeves, are quite plain ; alpaca and summer poplins. Others of silk, in double box- the upper-skirt has a low, square waist, is made of plaiu plaits, are two inches wide, raveled or notched at the edges.blue poplin, is a good deal puffed at the back, has long English embroidery, as it is called, is very fashionable for lapels at the side, and is trimmed with black ribbon. Black piques, thick, white muslins, and colored laine or linen ribbon sash. Black straw hat, and blue plume. FIG. V. DRESS OF YELLOW MARSEILLES, FOR A LITTLE GIRL — dresses. This embroidery is only the heavy worked ruffling, edging and insertion, which was so popular a few years ago. The skirt is trimmed with three rows of broad, white cotton A mixture of colors is more allowable now than it was a braid. The loose palefot is made with a cape looped up on year or so ago, and the stronger the contrast the more the shoulders, and is trimmed with braid and a white, wash stylish it is considered. This is, however, a dangerous fringe. White felt hat, and plume. FIG. VI. APRON FOR A GIRL FROM THREE TO FIVE.- The ground for an inexperienced eye, for if the tones of color are not well selected the effect will be uncomfortable, and model is made of white pique, braided with scarlet, the edge even " loud." Thus pearl-gray and pink, gray and blue, being festooned in button-hole stitch, with scarlet wool. black and scarlet, buff and blue, yellow and black, etc., etc. Brown holland might also be used, and black braid substituted for scarlet. are all fashionable combinations. FIG. VII -FROCK FOR A GIRL FROM FOUR TO SIX.- This frock Added to this, lace trimmings are often worn. Thus on the pearl-gray and pink, black lace is a rich adjunct ; and is made of white pique ; the over-skirt, waistband, and epanon the buff and blue, or on the gray and blue, white lace lets of buff pique. The under-skirt is braided with fine black mohair braid, and the edge of the upper-skirt is butwould look well. It is evident that a more ample and flowing style of dress ton-holed, according to illustration, with fine black wool. than that worn of late years, is now deemed indispensable The top of the bodice and the edge of under-skirt are berdered with narrow white embroidery. The frock fastens at to all who would lay any claim to elegance. The dress, fully gathered at the back, must be more or the back with four pearl buttons.

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 ADVERTISEMENTS. THE BEST AND

CHEAPEST OF THE

PETERSON'S

LADY'S BOOKS.

MAGAZINE.

This popular Monthly contains more for the money than any in the world. It has, every year, nearly 1000 pages, 14 steel plates, 12 double-sized mammoth colored steel fashion plates, and 900 wood engravings—and all this for only TWO DOLLARS A YEAR, or a collar less than Magazines of its class. Every lady ought to take " Peterson." It is emphatically, The Magazine for the Times ! The stories in "Peterson39 are conceded to be the best published anywhere. All the chief female writers of America are regular contributors. In addition to the usual number of shorter stories, there is being given in 1869, Five Original Copyrighted Novelets, viz : MARIA ANTOINETTE'S TALISMAN, by Mrs. Ann S. Stephens ; THE MYSTERY OF BLACKWOOD GRANGE, by Mrs. M. A. Fleming ; THE STORY OF MAGGIE, by the author of " Susie L's Diary ;" LIFE AND DEATH, by Agnes James ; KATE'S WINTER IN WASHINGTON, by Frank Lee Benedict. In its illustrations, also, “ Peterson " is unrivalled. The Publisher challenges a comparison between its STEEL AND OTHER ENGRAVINGS, and those in similar Magazines, and one steel engraving, at least, is given in each number. MAMMOTH COLORED FASHION PLATES Each number contains a double-size Fashion Plate, engraved on steel, and handsomely colored. These fine plates contain from five to six figures each, and excel any thing of the kind. In addition, wood cuts of the newest bonnets hats, caps, head-dresses, cloaks, jackets, ball dresses, walking dresses, house dresses, etc., etc., will appear in each num ber. Also the greatest variety of children's dresses. Also diagrams, by the aid of which, a cloak, dress, or child's costume can be cut out without the aid of a mantua-maker, so that each diagram in this way alone, will save a year's subscription. The Paris, London, Philadelphia and New York fashions are described, in full, each month. COLORED PATTERNS IN EMBROIDERY, CROCHET, etc. The Work-Table Department of this Magazine is wholly unrivalled. Every number contains a dozen or more patterns in every variety of Fancy-work, Crochet, Embroidery, Knitting, Bead-work, Shell-work, Hair-work, etc., etc., etc. Superb Colored Patterns for Slippers, Purses, Chair Seats, dc., given-each of which at a retail store would cost Fifty Cents. RECEIPTS FOR COOKING, THE TOILETTE, THE SICK-ROOM, ETC., ETC. The original Household receipts of " Peterson" are quite famous. For 1869 our " Cook Book " is being continued, Every one of these receipts has been tested. This alone is worth the price of " Peterson." Other receipts for the Toilette, Sick-room, etc., are given. It is economy in housekeeping to take “ Peterson.” New and Fashionable Music in every number. Also, Hints on Horticulture, Equestrianism, and all matters interesting to ladies. TERMS- ALWAYS IN ADVANCE. and one to getter I Copy, for one year, 5 Copies, one year, Club ) $800 "4 74 16 andupof one to getter 8 12.00 3 Copies, 5.00 up of Club. 41 and to getter 20.00 one "6 "" " 6.00 4 14 up of Club. PREMIUMS FOR CLUBS ! To every person getting up a Club of three, four, five, eight or fourteen, at the above prices, the premium engraving, " The Star of Bethlehem," size 24 inches by 16, will be sent gratis. To persons getting up Clubs of five, eight or fourteen, at the above prices, an extra copy of the Magazine, in addition to the premium engraving, will be sent gratis. All Clubs must begin with either the January or July number. Back numbers to ADDRESS, POST-PAID, January can always be supplied. CHARLES J. PETERSON, No. 306 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa. Specimens sent to those wishing to get up Clubs. IN REMITTING, for "Peterson's Magazine," name, at the top of your letter, your post-office, county, and State. If possible, procure a post-office order on Philadelphia. If a post-office order cannot be had, get a draft on New York, or Philadelphia, deducting the exchange ; if a draft cannot be had, send greenbacks, or notes of National Banks. Tell no one, unless one of your family, that your letter contains money. De particular to address the letter to CHARLES J. PETERSON, No. 306 Chestnut street, Philadelphia. A Persons ordering the Magazine from agents, or dealers, must look to them for the supply of the work. The publisher has no agent for whose contracts he is responsible. When the direction of a Magazine is to be changed, say at what post-office it was received, as well as the one it is to be sent to in future. Contributors, who wish to preserve their articles, must keep copies of them. We do not undertake to return manuscripts that we cannot use. Subscribers, in the British provinces, must remit twelve cents extra, each, to pre-pay the American postage to the lines. Back Numbers for 1868 and 1869, may be had of the principal agents, or of the publisher. No subscriptions received, at club prices, for less than a year.
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