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For Woman’s Work. LISTENING IN THE RAIN. The year is slowly creeping by, They have gathered the golden grain, And in my heart is an echoing cry, As it throbs with its weight of pain. I sit ’neath the trees with their tinted leaves All varnished with autumn’s stain, And I wait, and watch, while my spirit grieves For a form through the falling rain. CHORUS. Listening, I am listening, Listening in the rain; Watching, and sadly waiting, Listening in the rain. In every drop as it gently fa Is To the earth with its music tone, I hear love’s whisper—my darling calls, She comes, when I am’alone. The low green mound near yonder hill Where my sweet one long has lain, Is vacant now, for my darling will Come in this falling rain.—Chorus. I hear through the rain her dainty feet, The touch of her hand meets mine, My brow is fanned by her breath so sweet As her arms about me twine. She is not lost, she is near, so near I hear her heart’s refrain, And I mingle my tears with the raindrops clear While I listen in the rain.—Chorus, Sometime no grave will rise between Her loving heart and mine, I shall be with her in realms I ween In happiness divine. No more shall I wait ’neath the rustling leaves While my soul is wrought with pain, And ne’er shall I list while my spirit grieves For a voice through the falling rain. CHORUS. She will be with me, where sunny days Shall linger on for aye, ’Mid pastures green, and pleasant ways, To sing His praise on high. Mrs. S. C. Hazlett-Bevis. For Woman’s Work THE ERUDITE WOMAN. VER and anon some light scribbler proclaims a senti ment something after this wise: “ Let those like the brainy woman who will, but for me, give me the sweet, gentle little creatures who know how to cook I’’ Then we are deluged with such advice as this: “If you want a good-natured husband who always lets you have your own way, give him plenty of wholesome, well-cooked food, and ask no favors until after dinner.” Or to give the poetic version, man may be “ Endowed with genius from the gods, But apt to take his temper from his dinner.’’ The words of that bigoted old English savant, Dr. Samuel Johnson—are too often quoted: “ A man is better pleased when he has a good dinner upon his table than when his wife talks Greek.” This is from a man who took more pleas ure in the contemplation of a leg of mut ton than in viewing a beautiful landscape. It is related that he fussed with his wife so continually about his dinner that once she called to him when about to say grace and said— “ Nay, hold, Mr. Johnson, and do not make a farce of thanking God for a dinner which in a few minutes you will pronounce not eatable.” For one, I am a little less cynical than to believe that the affections of men depend so greatly on gastronomy; and I believe that there are deeper reasons for the grant ing of “favors ” than the influence of a “ good dinner.” Be that as it may, it is the insinuation that in woman learning is incompatible with domesticity, which is so unacceptable to my sense of justice, and which reason can easily refute. The eru dite woman is so often contrasted disadvan tageously with the sweet, the domestic, and the lovable woman, that one might be led to believe that they are an alien class which under no circumstances could possess any of the above-mentioned ad mirable qualities; that with intellectual attainments the feminine character must relinquish all claim to those gentle graces and homely accomplishments requisite to the charming woman and successful house wife. Such an intimation seems to me un fair, both to historical and existing types of womanhood. There are and have been those lacking in domestic qualifications who are unamia ble and ungracious. We meet, occasionally in a lifetime, with women who bear a semblance to Zantippe for shrewishness, to the mother of Lord Byron for ungovernable passion and heartlessness, to Lady Mary Montagu for untidiness—but is it not rather illogical to lay these faults to much learning? Perhaps if the wife of Socrates had ex ercised her mind more and her tongue less, her reputation would not have been quite so unsavory; if Lady Byron had been a wiser woman she would have been a better mother; and there is no reason in conclud ing that a knowledge of languages and a gift for letter-writing gave Lady Mary an aversion for the details and niceties of the toilet. We would rather suppose that it was because she had not known a mother’s care. Because “ brainy ” women are sometimes unattractive is no argument that intellect uality is the detrimental feature in their characters; there is sure to be some better reason. I cannot see how intelligence and culture can in any way unfit one for the homely tasks or the amenities of life. Learning ever ennobles labor. The better trained and developed the mind is, the bet ter it can guide with wisdom the work of the hands. I believe a woman is better fitted for a mother who understands the science of physiology and hygiene ; that she may be a more successful cook if she knows some thing of physical science and chemistry; reading and knowledge that broadens the mind makes her a more companionable wife, adds a truer grace to her home life, and opens a wider field for usefulness. There is no reason why a woman who is brilliant intellectually, who is an accom plished linguist and writer, cannot be an amiable wife, a diligent housekeeper and devoted mother. If, as a girl, she preferred books to “fancy work,” the study of dead and modern languages to the fashion plates; if she liked sociability and useful accomplishments, but gave no thought to society “fads,” who can say that she or the home she makes is the worse for it? Not long since, an English critic was asked his opinion as to the best prose wri ters of the language; he mentioned three names, and one of them was Charlotte Bronte. Where could we find a better ex ample of the erudite home-maker than in the story of her life? How faithfully and well did she perform the domestic tasks of that ill-fated moorland home. We all know the little poem telling of her paring potatoes for the old half-blind servant. Could she have been more unselfish, more patient, truer to every duty if she had grown up in ignorance? She was a prodigy of learning as a child, and her education was of the highest order; what a help, what a comfort, what a pillar to lean upon it must have been in the days of anguish and loneliness! George Eliot, whom the late Sidney Lanier, of John Hopkins University, rank ed as first among English novelists, is an other example of a “ brainy ” woman who was domestic. Mr. Lanier says of her: “ She had all that homely love which comes with the successful administration of breakfast, dinner, and supper; besides knowing the mystery of good bread and coffee, she was widely versed in theology, philosophy and the movements of modern science. She knew French, German and Italian, and had, besides, a good knowledge of Latin, Greek, Russian and Hebrew.” The illustrations could be multiplied in definitely : I will mention Mary Somer ville, who occupies a unique place in the world of letters. Her intellect was eminently mathematical, and of her labors for the advancement of science, it was said that not twenty men in France could read understandingly her book— “ Mechanism of the Heavens,” so profound was her learning and so deep her research in science. In her time, interest in the higher education of women was being awakened. Mrs. Somerville’s daughter writes: “It was considered that if women were to receive the solid education of men they would forfeit much of their feminine grace and become unfit to perform their domestic duties. My mother was one of the bright est examples of the fallacy of this old world theory, for no one was more thor oughly and gracefully feminine than she was, both in manner and appearance. * * * No amount of scientific labor ever in duced her to neglect her duties. * * * read Homer an hour every morning before breakfast, taught her children three hours every morning, managed her house carefully, read the newspapers and the most important new books on all subjects, at the same time being busily engaged in writing for the press; besides all this she visited and received friends. She was a remarkably neat and skillful needle woman; she spoke French, Italian and German. Her papers and all that belonged to her were invariably in the most beautiful or der. She was skilled in cookery, and made a quantity of orange marmalade for Sir Edward Parry when he was preparing for his three years expedition to the Arctic Seas * *• *. She took the liveliest in terest in all that has been done of late years to extend high class education to women, both classical and scientific. * * * Her scientific library was presented to Girton College as the best fulfillment of her wishes.” This shows what a woman may be whose heart and head are both perfectly developed. The modern taste for detailed biograph- WOMAN’S WORK. ical sketches of noted persons, has given the world many valuable pictures of lovely home life combined with a public or literary career. T. C. De Leon’s charming sketch of Mrs. Augusta Evans-Wilson and her home “ Ashland,” near Mobile, Alabama, is one of many such revelations we have had. The two Southern women most eminent, perhaps, in our literature—Mrs. Wilson and Marion Harland—are both famous house-keepers and authority in domestic matters. As well tell me that a man is unfitted for a husband because he has taken a degree at John Hopkins, as that a woman is un fit for domestic life who is scholarly and thoroughly cultivated. A woman needs to know all she can possibly gain in every branch of learning to best fit her for a wife and mother, for they are the most re sponsible and highest positions entrusted to human hands; and if she is a failure, be sure it is not because she knows too much, but too little. If she has every grace of heart and is possessed of every domestic virtue, her grace becomes more gracious, her sweetness of richer flavor, her every act of daily ministering has an added refine ment from her hands if she is guided by a deep and broad intellectuality. Erudition is the “ saving grace ” of those who possess it to the exclusion of other commendablq qualities; it is the crowning grace of those who happily combine it with those qualities; it is ever a jewel of purest ray, whether it redeems a meager setting, or enhances the loveliness of that ornately chased. To every woman it is gain; she who has it not misses a prerogative that higher civili zation has given her. The secret of sweet temper and domestic attainments does not lie in a disdain of books—as some frivolous writers seem to think—but in a loving heart, intelligent mind and systematic in dustry in every day duties. These duties are more neglected for “society” than they are for books. Where you find one woman who makes reading a necessary part of her life, you will find scores who are “in the swim,” and whose god is fashion. I, for one, say, let there be more learn ing and less gossip and “ style.” Great possibilities are in the grasp of the woman of to-day; she may be as Minerva for wisdom, as Hygeia for physical per fection, and reign a queen of exquisite grace and strength in the realm of home. Howard Meriwether Lovett. For Woman’s Work. LEAVES FRESHLY CUT. Had we uttered the invocation in the old song to Father Time, to “ turn back ward in his flight,” the answer would seem to have come in the story of John Gray in this month’s issue of Lippincott. We are living one hundred years ago, and with Mrs. Falconer, seeing an Indian in every tree stump as we sit in the doors of log houses of the pioneer settlers of the Blue-grass State. The simple, earnest, ambitious—to that degree which insures success—character of the hero, is well drawn. The scene between Stafford and Peter is cleverly painted, in truth too cleverly, for we would not expect from men who had risen no higher than they, the witty speeches which drop from their lips. The pathetic unselfishness of Mrs. Fal coner is a perfect contrast to the weak, purely selfish nature of her niece, Amy. We cannot help regretting that John’s youthful episode with Amy should have set in vibration a harsh chord which he says himself prevented the after years welling forth into a perfect melody. An echo of the dread wrongs commit ted in the western part of this country, of which we are so proud, comes to us in the short story, The Woman of the Plains, in the same magazine. ***** The current issue of Harper’s Monthly begins with a short study of Greek sculp ture, as it was used to decorate tombs in ancient days. The interesting paper concludes with Dr. Jowett’s translation of the famous funeral oration of Pericles. Our interest is kept alive in Mary Wilkins’ story, Jane Field. Julian Ralph’s account of Montana; The Treasure State of the Union, seems to war rant the name, for the treasures seem il limitable. Mr. Lowell’s paper on The Old English Dramatists is a mental tonic necessi tating active thought and broad knowledge to follow the deep thinking of the writer. From Leopold's Window, a story in the same magazine, by Katharine Pearson Woods, leaves us in doubt as to the object of the writer, or whether there was any object in sending it forth to the reading public. If it is to prove that love is sel fish, it fails in that, for we could not be so unjust to the genus homo as to take Leo pold as a type of any class. Perhaps it is intended to teach that time-honored lesson that each woman is responsible for the esteem in which her sex is held by men. ***** The Century opens this month with a very interesting and profusely illustra ted account of the wonderful growth and improvement of the Hungarian capital, Buda-Pesth, the consolidated municipality of the sister towns Buda and Pesth lying on opposite sides of the Danube. Almost utopian does the description sound—a city where there are no such things as land booms and the consequent depressions, where the food supply is under such con trol as to prevent the seeking of any but what is wholesome, and where the public, especially the poor, are provided with free baths, also with hot sulphur baths from the springs possessing curative prop erties. As we would expect, the educational, literary and artistic progress is shown to be very decided ; the university ranking with the best in the land which we are accustomed to think of as standing unrivalled as the seat of deep learning and profound wis dom—der Faderland. Bristling with thought and humor are the chapters of Weir Mitchell’s story, Characteristics. The experience of the Character Doctor is given. Especially were we struck by the words of the Profes sor when consulted by the young physi cian, who found himself worn out by his sympathies. “ Sympathy should harden by repeated blows into the tempered steel of usefulness, which has values in proportion to what it has borne; otherwise it and you are use less.” The physician having changed his avo cation and put up the novel sign,“Character Doctor,” is called upon by the always recognized man with the note-book and pencil and soiled fingers. On stating that he is social reporter for the Standard, he is met with the characterization: “ A col lector of garbage to manure with fools’ vanities the devil’s farms.” No wonder that, as is stated, the look ol “ alert smartness ” faded out of his face. Is not the “ summing up,” a sad com mentary on our newspapers to which we so often refer as an “ educational means.” How can we claim this, when so often the offensive matter is given forth without even the flimsy covering of proper lan guage ; the noisome odor given forth is sufficient to taint, if not utterly ruin, many innocent minds, attracted as youth in variably is by whatever is new. Like Oliver, we, at the concluding lines, cry for more of this clever work of Dr. Mitchell’s. Most fitting is the tribute paid to the great,good man, Roswell Smith,the founder of this magazine, originator of the idea which has eventuated in the Century Dic tionary, in itself sufficient to render his name immortal. Can we wonder at the success of his life work when his friend and biographer tells us of the simple faith which impelled him to ask Divine guidance in the smallest affairs of life, when it was his avowed intention “to make all his work serviceable to that kingdom for whose coming he pray ed ” and his desire that his two magazines, Century and St. Nicholas should pour into the country a constant stream of refining influence? Working to such an end, may not his success in achievement inspire his succes sors to emulate his example and keep the pages of their publications pure and worthy of the reputation which, through this man’s efforts, they have gained. So may it be, pray we all who are thankful that Ros well Smith lived. Cruel are those women, and most to be reprobated, who laugh at a bashful man. It is the higher order of human beings whom bashfulness attacks. It is the pre cursor of many excellencies, like the vigil of the knight, and if it is patiently and brave ly borne, the knight is thrice a hero. It is this recollection which can alone sus tain the bashful man under his sufferings. But not all the good scholars and superior men fail in drawing rooms. No rule is without an exception; very shy men have often become very attractive men of society. The first refuge, though, of the bashful of either sex is repellent—they assume an air of hauteur. It is a natural fence, a con venient armor, and many a woman has fought a battle behind it through life. No doubt it has been the armor of many a so-called cold person. The path that once has been trod Is never so rough to the feet; And the lesson we once have learned Is never so hard to repeat. The truest characters of ignorance Are vanity and pride and pert pretence, As blind men used to bear their noses higher Than those that have their eyes and sight entire. —Samuel Butler. 5