I am sure that those of us who, through much tribulation, reach it at last, will find Heaven to be a place of perfect taste; that there will be there neither bad art, nor bad manners, nor bad of any kind.

And on our way to this most desirable Heaven let us stop in at the print-shop, and meditate awhile upon that picture of the self-complacent lamb in the arms of the Good Shepherd. From the bad taste of the Pharisee, good Lord deliver us!

Which Shall It Be?

In view of the great dangers besetting young people of the present day, in the form of bad newspapers, illustrated "juvenile" monthlies and weeklies of a vile character, surreptitiously and extensively circulated, and finding their secret way into the best homes and school-houses of the land, the dullest managers of a pure periodical for the young hardly can fail to burn with a holy fire. If they only can do a negative good, in crowding bad reading to the wall, in taking up the children's attention so that foul publications are unheeded, a great work is accomplished; their mission is a blessed one, and good citizens everywhere should rally to their assistance. Let not parents deceive themselves. No home is too sacred or too carefully guarded for those fiendish invaders, the venders of low and dangerous juvenile publications, to ply their unholy trade. Every child is in danger for whom good, well selected, enjoyable reading is not provided by those most directly having its best interests at heart. All dangerous publications do not betray their character at a glance. Often they wear the mask of useful information, and even of piety. A mere general oversight will not suffice. Do not force your child to spend time in reading, but look to it that all his or her reading-time be properly and pleasantly filled. While you blindly congratulate yourself that your boy or girl, through a fondness for books and periodicals, must necessarily be learning something, it may be well to know what that something is. Undue intellectual stimulus for children is bad enough, but emotional stimulus is worse. In the hands of unprincipled purveyors, it opens the way to moral errors of every kind, and by quickening an else slow growth to what is holy, develops only precocity in vice. The point of the wedge is easily inserted, and, at first, as easily thrust back; but beware of the silent force that having once gained an entrance may split the peace and purity of your home.

Foreshadowings of the Styles.

THE earliest suggestion of seasonable changes in apparel is always observable in hats and bonnets. The first hint of spring or autumn is found in the slight, yet distinct, variations of head-coverings.

Already the shop windows are filled with hats, loaded with velvet, and feathers, and brilliant wreaths, which, were it a month later, would be the envy of the passing crowds. Now these milliners' foreshadowings are merely glanced at, and forgotten -at least for the time. There will be no essential variations of shapes during the early Fall. The favorite style will be the Leghorns, with low, round, flat crowns and finger wide brims, turned up against the crown on one or both sides. This style has been moderately popular all summer, the liking for it increasing as the season waned. For autumn, these hats have the under side of the brim faced all over with velvet, an inch-wide binding showing on the outside. Around the crown a band, flatly folded, or a loose-lying scarf of velvet fastens in a number of loops without ends, on the left side, not so far back as formerly. Mingled with the loops is a bunch of small feathers or a long plume. Under the curling edge of the brim, turned up against the crown, is a spray or short wreath of bright colored leaves and berries. Ornaments of all metals, notably burnished silver,-except oxy. dized silver (this has run its course), are sparingly placed upon the velvet garniture; and this, with insignificant variations, is the regulation model for an October hat.

High authorities declare that plaids, stripes and figures are to be fashionable in all dress materials, for cool and cold weather, which is equivalent to saying that plain and simple shapes and meager trimmings are to be the coming rule. Plaids, and stripes, and figures are so difficult to trim with any semblance of grace or beauty, that, when they are the mode, excessive garniture ceases to be practicable.

The pretty, old-fashioned Gabrielle dress, modified and improved, is re-introduced under the more pretentious title of the Princesse. It is well adapted to in-door costumes, and like the longloved and soon-to-be-lamented polonaise, is quite becoming to most people. A good figure is set off, and a bad figure much helped, by the graceful Princesse costume.

However strongly Fashion may declare in favor of stuffs with other than plain colored surfaces, there can never be a question as to the more genuine

elegance of these. They are more refined and tasteful, and always more satisfactory and economical than any figured, striped or plaided goods can be. One requires a less quantity of this material, which may be turned, according to necessity, upside down and inside out, than of such as has an and down" or right and wrong side.

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It is believed that the deep, rich shades of maroon, brown and blue will be quite as popular as black during the winter, both for in and out-door They are a pleasant change from black, and there is much greater security in purchasing lowpriced colored silks than in purchasing black, which has become so unstable that the largest dealers refuse to warrant even the best makes. Among woolen fabrics, cashmere, drap d'été, and camel's hair cloth will, as heretofore, be the most widely worn; and a promised compromise between the light cashmere and heavy drap d'été will fill a longfelt gap in winter goods.

Weddings.

As the semi-annual bridal season is at hand, it is the time to plead for a reform in weddings. Every year this sacredest of all occasions is turned more and more into a mere opportunity for display, and for replying to some fancied social obligation. Instead of the time when a few of the closest friends gather to witness the solemnest compact human beings can frame, it is chosen as the moment for bringing together the larger part of a family's social circle, to show the bride in her bridal garments; to prove how many flowers and refreshments the family can afford; and, with shame be it said, to exhibit to criticism and light comment the precious tokens that should have come with tender regard to the maid on the eve of her new life.

A wedding must not be uncheerful; but it must certainly be solemn to all who realize what it is. On the one side, it is renouncing old ties, promising to begin with faith, and hope, and love a new and wholly untried existence. On the other, it is the acceptance of a sacred trust, the covenant to order life anew in such ways as shall make the happiness of two instead of one. Can such an occasion be fitting for revelry? Is it not wiser, more delicate, to bid only the nearest of friends to a marriage ceremony, and leave the feasting and frolic for a subsequent time? We are sure there are few girls who, if they reflect on the seriousness of the step they are about to take, will not choose to make their vow merely within the loving limits of their home circle. All our best instincts point to the absolute simplicity and privacy of wedding services; only a perversion of delicacy could contemplate the asking of crowds of half-sympathetic or wholly curious people to attend the fulfillment of the most solemn of contracts. Let there be as much partymaking, rejoicing and pleasure-taking afterward as hearts desire; but let the solemn vows be made in the presence only of those nearest and dearest.

Hints for Anniversary Presents.

WHEN those grateful anniversaries, popularly known as wooden and tin weddings, occur to our friends and acquaintances, there are many anxious debates over the selection of a suitable offering to mark the day. It is quite difficult enough to choose something for the original wedding, when everything under the stars, from a silver thimble to a check for a hundred thousand dollars is entirely appropriate; but limit the propriety of the gift to a single substance, and mental distraction forthwith sets in. It is not so difficult as it used to be before the pretty Swiss carvings came in vogue, for among these are found book-rests, card-receivers, cardboxes, handkerchief and glove-boxes, jewel-cases, letter-racks, napkin-rings, crumb-brushes and trays, bread-plates and knives, salad-bowls, knives and forks, fruit-dishes with carved stands, flower-dishes similarly made, screen-frames, picture and mirrorframes, easels, ink-stands, pen-racks, portfolios, brackets of all shapes, sizes, styles and prices, flower-vases, and dozens of other things so graceful and comparatively cheap, that there would seem to be no trouble in being suited. Then, for larger and more imposing presents, are the numberless pretty, odd chairs-for instance, the new old-fashioned, high-backed, wooden rocking-chairs, with slats of willow for seat and back, and similar chairs that do not rock; the folding chairs that belong to the steamer chair family, and are so comfortable for piazza lounging in summer; the coquettish folding-chairs, painted the brightest of scarlet, and dubbed croquet chairs, though they are just as charming in-doors as out; and, to end the list, those graceful Vienna foldingchairs, made of rosewood and fine cane-work, which have four legs, but no front ones, and are especially appropriate for parlor use. All these are rated at. less than fifteen dollars, some as low as three or four; so that they are within reach of everybody. The penchant for having no full set of furniture, but many pieces of varied styles and kinds, is so great, that it is rare, except in old-fashioned houses, to find the former desideratum of a well arranged parlor—a sofa, four straight and two arm-chairs, all showing so close a relationship as to make it seem an inhumanity to separate them. Now-a-days, people furnish their houses by picking up here a table, there a chair, and somewhere else a lounge. A studied ease is the aim, and a pleasant chaos the result. Nests of tables are among the most acceptable of gifts to housekeepers. Whether of rosewood, or walnut, or Japanese lacquered work, there are always corners and odd spots into which they fit with charming facility.

It is not so easy to suggest presents for tin as for wooden weddings; still, besides the practical pans, pails, cake-boxes, spice-boxes, kitchen-spoons, wirecovers, cookie-cutters and candlesticks, there are many things sufficiently allied to tin to render them legitimate for such occasions. Among these are

wire flower-stands of many shapes and sizes, hanging baskets of wire lined with moss, and filled with growing vines, crystal vases with twisted wire stands, fruit and flower dishes similarly held, washstands, especially adapted to small country houses, drinking-cups, cutlery, piazza brackets of iron, and lawn and piazza seats, letter-scales, watch-stands, Wardian cases with metal bases, table-trays, and many other things useful or ornamental, or combining both qualities.

Politeness to Servants.

Is there not, or at least ought there not to be, a code of etiquette for the kitchen as well as for the parlor; for conduct toward inferiors as well as equals?

We make our plea for politeness in the kitchen on the following grounds:

1. No lady can afford, for her own sake, to be otherwise than gentle, thoughtful and courteous in the administration of household matters. If she reserves her best manners for the parlor, where so small a portion of the average American housekeeper's time is spent, it is likely that they will not always be easily put on. The habitual deportment leaves marks upon the countenance and the manner which no sudden effort can produce. And at housekeeping there are at best, so many unexpected occurrences, not always agreeable, that nothing but a habit of self-control and serenity can tide us over them creditably. According to John Newton, it sometimes requires more grace to bear the breaking of a china plate than the death of an only son; and there is a good deal of truth under the seeming absurdity. Have we not all proved by experience that we bear with least equanimity the daily, petty vexations which are unexpected, and apparently unnecessary? But there are many small miseries to one great affliction, and if character is to be improved by tribulations, it must be mainly by those of every day—the pin-pricks for which we are ashamed to demand sympathy.

2. For the sake of family comfort we must have comfort in the kitchen. Willing and unwilling service are readily distinguishable by every member of the household. We can all of us remember how the atmosphere of a dinner party has been suddenly chilled by a few words of unnecessary blame to a servant. To mortify a person is not usually to reform him. On the other hand, how delightful to a guest are those homes where the relations of masters and servants are friendly; where shortcomings on the part of the latter are delicately excused in public, and judiciously investigated in private. I say, advisedly, investigated rather than reproved; for undeserved misfortune may happen alike to all, and there may be occasion for sympathy rather than blame. If Biddy has had bad news from over the sea, must we not take that into account when we find fault with the gravy? I think sometimes we do not remember sufficiently that those who serve us are not machines, but men and women of like passions, and sorrows, and tempers with ourselves.

3. For the sake of our servants themselves, we must pay them due politeness. Humanity, says Bacon, is sooner won by courtesy than by real benefits. If one would make thorough and efficient servants out of raw material, it must be done by patience and long suffering. You say they are provokingly stupid; we will suppose they are; but if we have to deal with stupidity, let us use the means best adapted to it. Will intimidation succeed? Did you ever find that scolding made an order more intelligible, or caused anything but broken dishes and ill-cooked dinners? Then try gentleness a little while; if that will not accomplish anything, send away your servant, and try another. You can not afford to lose your temper; and a person on whom persistent kindness is thrown away, can render you no intelligent or permanent service.

We put it to the common sense of our readers, whether self-preservation, comfort and duty, do not all require of us a little more attention to kitchen etiquette ?

Wilkie Collins.

WE don't like Mr. Wilkie Collins's stories, "and there's the humor of it." At least, we don't like the most of them. He wrote one, a long time since, that we did like very much-"The Dead Secret." Only, even then, his love of sensation, and mystery, and horror in general, led him to give a simple story, with a lovely heroine not a bit too bright and good for human-nature's daily food, a silly title,

which for many people the writer might have been glad to have for readers, shut the book out of their circle, and turned the key upon it. But, this story apart, Mr. Collins has done little since except to minister to those faculties and feelings we have in common with the weakest, and dashiest, and most hysterical of the human race. Our misliking Mr. Collins is not at all a case of Dr. Fell. We can tell the reason why, and we propose to do it; and if our objections seem idle to his admirers, they may con

sole themselves with the fact that they are in the majority, for we certainly believe they are; and it must be admitted that Mr. Collins has many qualities that give him a right to a large audience-a great honor, if size were everything. He has a clear, precise style; always knows exactly what he means to say, and says it in a way to produce the effect he wishes to produce. He has considerable skill in devising intricate and teasing plots, and in keeping up their intricacy and their teasingness to the last possible moment; and he can sometimes draw a human character-that is, make live for us a man or woman who might have lived, and moved, and had being in this world, though, for the most part, the reason why his people are not human beings is that the world they live in is not our world at all. Here, then, we touch the secret of our little pleasure in Mr. Wilkie Collins. We cannot live for ever in a fantoccini world. We could, perhaps, if we were children, but we are not, and if we were, Mr. Collins writes not for children but for grown men and women. And men and women ask something more from an artist, or from one who pretends to be an artist, than the creation of puppets who are to be jerked by dexterous wires into impossible attitudes suited to the impossible world in which they play. In his later works, Mr. Collins begins to feel the Nemesis of his sins against Truthfulness and his degradation of Art. He cannot now be truthful when he would, and the poor puppet he has made to serve him in his caricatures of humanity has turned against him, and strive as he may, he must paint puppets to the end.

Harper & Brothers are now republishing Wilkie Collins's writings in an authorized uniform edition. One of the last volumes issued is "The Queen of Hearts"-a collection of short stories tied together by one of the clumsiest and most unreasonable artifices we remember. Artifices to connect unrelated stories are common enough, but they are seldom reasonable. The best that ever was devised is the one which Chaucer invented for his "Canterbury Tales." Boccaccio's and the one used by the author of the " Arabian Nights" are far from being good, but it may be said in excuse that the stories are so interesting we do not care whether there be any connecting thread or not. In the case of "The Queen of Hearts," however, the thread is made of much importance, and we are obliged to think of it whether we will or no, and its absurdity and artifice are made offensively conspicuous. Mr. Dickens hurt Mr. Collins not a little, and in his latest books the results of his study of his father-in-law's tricks and manners is painfully apparent. For an illustration of what we mean, we ask the reader to turn to the chapter in "Man and Wife" called The Owls." This has almost all Mr. Dickens's faults in it, and reads like an intentional parody on the great man's style at those times when he tried to make words and a good many of them take the place of ideas. Where all VOL. VIII.-48

are so feeble, yet so full of pretence, it is hard to say which is the worst or which is the best of these stories grouped together under the general title of "The Queen of Hearts." If the story of Mr. Fauntleroy be a true one, it is, at least, worth printing, and the "Parson's Scruple" is well told, though it is not pleasant to read, a verdict which we fear must be too often passed upon this writer's tales. Indeed, it is too constant a trick of his to work his reader up to fever heat about nothing at all, giving him good reason to suspect that the author took infinite pains with every part of his plot but the untying it, and that he has always in his mind the persuasion he can cut the knot, if he can't untie it.

We confess we have often felt ashamed for Mr. Collins in reading this sorry stuff, ashamed that so clever a workman should have no more respect for his craft; ashamed that a man in his position should have done so little to keep the novel up to its high-water English mark. Who that has ever read through one of Mr. Collins's books,-" The Dead Secret" excepted,-would ever care to take it up again? Yet a good novel ought to be a thing of joy for ever, and the ambition of the novelist should be to take a place, however humble, in that circle where sit the writers whom age cannot wither nor custom stale; who are sought out and loved when found by generation after generation-the circle of Chaucer and Boccaccio, and Scott and Fielding, the beloved masters who sit by the fountain of youth

"Who always find us young And always keep us so."

"John Andross."

THERE is a class of novels which invites the same censure that French criticism brings against English painting-that it is employed to point a moral more than to display an art. Of the American writers who use the weapon of fiction to attack an evil or defend a theory no one succeeds better than Mrs. Davis in combining a special object with simplicity of plan and naturalness of character. Most of them set up some abstraction, some ideal embodiment of right or wrong, controlling the persons it concerns like puppets. With her, human nature in its exposure to temptation or its efforts at duty is the chief study, and moral generalities do not usurp the first place. She does not describe institutions or abuses as making or unmaking human beings, nor men and woman as colorless, bloodless We symimages through which a principle acts. pathize with her heroes of either sex, because they display natural wills and natural weaknesses, neither erring by rule nor right upon system.