"EVENING STAR" SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT OF ENTERTAINING READING.

Ho. 29.]

AUCKLAND, SATURDAY, JUNE 3, :876

[Price: ONE PENNY.

Poetry.

THE VOLUNTEER'S WIFE.

i An' tWta I was t mid to coma here to your Honor To «C 3if you'd write a few words to me Pat; Tjijirono for a soser, is Misther O'Cormor, Wld a sty P9 on h's arm and a band to his hat. tn'whJt'H you tell ? It ou<?ht obs aisy For such ti yor" Honor to spake w"d the pen, And s&y.lm a' "ght,anfl t. nat nuvourneen, Daisy (The b&by, your Honor), is betthor agen. Ttorwhta ho went off, so sick wai the chllder, Shß Diver held up her blue eyes to his face ; in'whin I'd be ciying hod look nil tho wilder, An' say world I wish for tho country's disgrace. So be left her in danger, and me sorely greeting, An'followed tho flag with an Irishman's joy: nh! its often I d^amo of the great drama n-beatlng, Ana bu'let gono stra'.ght to tho heart of me boy. An'say wi". ha s !tid me a bit of his money, por the rint and the doctor's bill due In a week ? Well surely there's tears on your oyelathes, honey— Ah! faith, I've no t.'vht w^d such freedom lo speak. You're overmuch trifl'ng—l'll not give you trouble ; I'll find some one w liin'; Oh ! what can it be ? wjiat'a that 'i t'ia newspaper folded np double ? yer Honor, don't hide it, but r- i it to m«. What I PftMck O'Connor? No, no ; it's some other; Dead! dead! No nath'm—'t's a wok scarce gone by. Dead 1 dead! Way tha jriss on tha cheek of his mother It hasn't had time yet, yonv Honor, to dry! Don't tell me—it's not him—o God! am I crazy? Shot dead! oh, for the love of sweet heaven, say no! in' what in the world will I do wid poor Daisy ? 0, how will I live, and 0, where will I go 1 Ihe room's gettin' dark—l'm not crein', your Honor ; I—think I'll i?o home:'—and a sob quick and dry fl S me Sharp from tho bosim of Mary O'Connor, Hot never a tear-chop welled up to her eye.

TWO PICTURES.

An old farm house with meadows wide, And sw«!Bt with clover on oach side ; A bright-eyed boy vho looks from out Tho door with woodbine wreathnd about, And wishes his one thought a'l, day: 'Oh ! if I could but fly away From hs du'. spot tho world to see, How happy, happy, happy, How happy I would be !' Amid the city's constant din, A man who round tho world has baen Is thinking, thinking, all daylong, ' Oh 1 if I could only trace onco more The field-path to the farm-house door, The old green meadows could I see. How happy, happy, happy, How happy I would be !'

THE BURDEN OF EARTH.

BY LONGFELLOW,

0, little feet: thit snch long years Must wander on through hopes and fears; Muiifc ache and bleed beneath your load; 1, nearer to the wayside inn, Whore toi' shall c3Pse and rest begin, Am wear/, thinking of your road. 0, little handi: that weak or strong, Have sii" to serve or rule so lonsr, Have it'll so Ions; to give or ask ; 1. who so much with book and pen Have toiled among my fellow men,

Am wea^y, thinking of yonr task. 0. little heari3 ; that throb and beat With suo'i impatient, feverish heat,

Such J'mitless and strong dartres : Mine, that so long hath glowed and burned, With passions into ashes turned.

Now c )ver3 and conceals its fires. 0, little souls ; as pure anfl white, As cv/stoUiae. as rays of light

Direct from heaven, their sonrct divine ; Refracted through the mist of years, How red my setting sun appears ; How lurid looks thi3 soul of mino!

HOW THE WIND BLOWS.

B7 DOR ISA,

How the wind blows I a'l my pnlcis swelling; I close mine eyelids but am ao opprest, It 50 absorbs me, every grief upwelUng ; It lead? mo cip*>'-ve with its wild unrest. How the wind dIoot! It takes me back to childhood; Bat not to those brieht happy May-day' hoars ; Not to those joyoui rambles through the wild-wood ; Not to those fleeting moments, culling flowers How the wind blows! So liko that sad September, "When summer baauties 'gan to fade and fall. Merclles3 wind I could I caise to remember If I had sinca not haard thy voice at all ? How the wind blow 3, it comes against my casement, As in that fivat deep gloom it came to me ; And I in helplp", restless, wild amazement, Look back again on the old agony. How the wind blows! Evan its distant sighing Awakes Bad memories of hppe3 and fears. TThen one so dear beyond mine aid was iylng, And my wrapt gaze was blind with unshed tears. How the wind biows ! Bat always melancholy ; Whyisit ever linked with vain ragret ? Ever it points to g.lef, or mocks at folly, And lacerates the sp'.rt'a stormy fret. How the wind bbsvs ! When I am slowly passing Aleng the valley; I would simply crave That it would cease its moanin? while I'm crossing, Then vent its fui/ on my lowly grave.

RECONSTUCTION.

In a waton mvle of willow Wheeled I onco a little maiden, Kinglets shining oa the pillow, Roaming homeward, treasnre-laden, Like a boat upon the billow. Ten years flad. Ah, how I missed her When we left the vjllaga school 1 But she s»kl she'd be my sifter As we lingered by the pool, And I passionately kissed her. Ten mo.:e f retting years renew It; Little w?;»ou made of willow Loviu<? eyes are bent to view It; Loving hinds adjust the pillow, And wo iittud rockera to it. o

THE KISS.

BY C LERIDCIE

One kit;, dear maid, I s»id, and sighed ; Your scorn the little boon deDied Ah, why refuse thi Wiim >l»ss bliss ? Can danger lurk within a kiss ? Yon viewless wanderer of tho vale, Tho spirit of ttie wos:ern g^le, At moming'3 break at evening's close, Inhales tho sweetness of t.he rosn, And hover's o'er the uninjured bloom, Sighing back the soft perfumo Her nectar-breathing kisses fling Vigor to the zepher's wing, And see the glitter of the dew Scatter on the rose's hue. Bashful, lo ! she bends her head, And darts blush of deeper red. Too well those lovely lips disclose The triumphs of the opening roie : ofair! Ograceful! b»d tliem prove As pasatve to the breath of love ! In tender accents, faint and low, Well plpasnd I hoar the whispered ' No !' The whispered ' No' how little meant. Sweet falsehood that endears consent! lor on those lovely lipi tho whllu Dawns the sofs renting smile, And tempts, with feignod dissuasive coy. Tho. gontlu violence of the joy.

Origin of "The House That Jack Built."

The following is certainly a 'literary curiosity.' We extract it from an English paper which gives it on the authority of the • Bombay Guardian,' which paper thus introduces the ' hymn :— 'We are indebted to a friend for the following interesting communication :—

• The following translation of a Hebrew hymn is copied from one of the publications of the Percy Society. It is originally written in Rabbinical Chaldee, and has a sort of lifting measure. No doabt many will bo surprised to find that the familiar nursery tale, which has been told to arauso children, in England, for many generations, has had so serious an original:— A Translation of a Hymn from the Sepher Haggadah. folio 23 1 A kid, a kid, my father bought For two pieces of money. A kid, a kid. 2 Then came the cat that ato the kid That my father bought For two pieces of money. A kid, a kid. 3 Then camo the dog ani bit the cat That ate the kid, &c. 4 Them came the staff and beat the dog That bit the cat, &o. i 5 Then came the fire and burned tho staff That beat the dog, &c. 6 Then came the water and quenched the That burned the staff, &o. [fire 7 Then came the ox and drank tho water That quenched the fire, &c. 8 Then came the butcher and slew the ox That drank the water, &c, 9 Then came the angel of death and killed the butcher That slew the ox, &c. 10 Then came the Holy One, blessed be he, And killed the angel of death, That killed tho butcher, That killed the ox, That drank the water, That quenched the fire, That burned the staff, That beat the dog, That bit the cat, That ate the kid, That my father bought, For two pieces of money.

A kid, a kid. The following is the interpretation : —

1. The kid, which is one of the pure animals, denotes the Hebrew nation. The father by whom it was purchased is Jehovah, who represents iiimself in this relation to the Hebrews. The two piecos of money are Moses and Aaron.

2. The cat denotes the Assyrians, who took the ten tribes.

3 The dcg is symbolical of the Baby lonians, who destroyed the Assyrian monarchy.

4 The staff signified the Persians, who destroyed the Babylonian kingdom.

5. The iire indicates the Greek Empire under Alexander, which destroyed the Persian.

6. The water denotes the Eoman power which destroyed the Grecian.

7. The ox is the symbol of the Saracens, who destroyed the Roman power in the Holy Land. 8. The butcher is the crusader, who drove the Saracens off the Holy Land,

9. The angel of death is the Turkish power, to which the land of Palestine is still subject.

10. The commencement of the tenth stanza is designed to show that God will take signal vengeance on the Turks, immediately after whose overthrow the .Tews are to be restored to their own land and live under the government of their long-oxpected Messish.'

Before his marriage Bonghue praised the artistic manner in which his wife " banged" her hair. Now he complains of the cruel manner in which she bangs his head.

Tyndall's Intended —A brother savant (aays a Brooklyn paper)recently rallied Pro fessor Tyndall upon the subject of his rumored engagement to a daughter of Lord Hamilton. The great scientist did not deny the soft impeachment. Eacouraged hereby, his friend pursued the subject with the yiew of discovdring what special attraction could have conquered a man who had so long resisted the fascinations of the sex. "Is she prettier than other ledies you have seen ?" he asked. "No." "Is she more cultivated?" "No." "What, then, is her particular charm?" "She has less dynamic force," said the Professor.

" Charlea 1" she murmured, aa they strolled along the Tremont Street Mall the ether evening, and gazed upwards at the bejewclcd firmament. " Charles dear, which is Venus and which is Adonis 1"

Strong-Minded Women.

By Don Isa. ,

Chapter III.;

Some years ago I had taken up my abode for a short time, a few miles from London. A friend wrote to me thus: 'My poor brother Dick is somewhere in your neigh borhood ; pray find him out and write me all about him.' I had little difficulty in doing so, for rot far from my place stood one of the preltiest houses I had ever seen, and the lawn flower-plots, and beautiful treos were a picture. I had often admired it, and remarked to a friend that the place should be called the Bower of Bliss, for surely the faries dwelt there. A gentle man of the party observed mo,' The Major lives there.' This assertion somewhat perplexed me, when I found that this beautiful spot was ' poor brother Dick's' residence, for I knew that he was a retired clergyman. However, I called, and was shown into a pretty half-parlor, half-study, and there I came face to face with my friends brother—a subdued looking, intellectual, extremely gentlemanly man. We had about fifteen minutes very pleasant conversation, when the door opened and there entered Mrs. ' Brother Dick.' After due introduction, the gentle man subsided into a corner, and I had the opportunity of looking at a very tall, very handsome, highly colored lady—a decidedly stylish woman, who informed ' me that her husband was an invalid, that he amused himself with pictures, poetry, and giving instructions to the gardener. I saw that she looked soverely at him while giving me this information, and that he sighed heavily. I also observed that when I addressed my remarks to him, he meekly looted to his wife for a reply, and only spoke when she honored him with an observation, which was very seldom. I folt oppressed, and gladly took my leave. The lady saw me across the lawn, when I ventured to ask her husband's malady. She shook her head, saying, sho never allowed him to see any one alone, it was too much excitement, that sho never suf fered him to go out of sight of the house without her. I enquired did his doctors advise nothing. Oh, yes, .they had re commended his making a long visit to bis family alone, but she stoutly opposed such a course, as it would do him more harm than good—he was very happy in his own home. I pondered all this while going back, and a few days after, while I was chatting with some friends, one of the gentlemen exclaimed, 'By Jove, there's the Major. If you have any pity for that poor gentloman, let tho musculine portion of us out before he enters.' They went into another room, and the next mometit (while I was wondering who the gallant Major was) my friend's brother and his wife entered the room. The poor gentleman ! I did indeed pity him as he took the remotest seat in the room, and whatever observation was addressed to him she answered, as if ho had been a mute. Had she possessed sense, or perhaps I should say a soul, she would doubtless have made a clever woman, but I should say in any case unfitted for the life-com panion of a refined man, aud totally out of place as the wife of this gentleman, We were considerably relieved when they took their departure, and then I Jearnt that the gentlemen of the neighbourhood called her the Major. I have since met with several female Majors 'An different parts of the world. There is yet another so-called strong-minded woman bearing no resemblance whatever to any of the fore going, la the first place she has not one grain of selfishness in her whole composi tion. The nearest approach is self-respect. She has this organ very largely developed. Then follow mind, sense, enery, and soul or deep affection—all well defined. She has neither time nor disposition for maligning the other sex, and she entertains the profoundest respect for all that is good and manly in man. She feels an unswerv able conviction that the happiest, the grandest, the noblest, and blessedest place, a woman can have on earth, is by the side of a man whom she can honor and respect, and under whoso protecting name she can, and does, defy a whole world of adversity. This is the woman, who, when thrown upon her own resources, bandages up the great big wound, to numb the intense aching, and looks the world thoughtfully in the face, and tlien fearlessly puts her hand to the wheel, strong in her own determined powers, heedless alilke of the vituperations of tho envious and base, and the coercion of the foolish. Tho good man never speaks slightingly of the sex of his mother; the brave man would scorn to do it. The sensible man says ' A blessed thing for creation that there are some strong-minded women among us—there are weak minds enough of both sex.' If you doubt it, look around. In conclusion it may not be amiss tj give a slight illustration of the home of a gentleman well known to the writel*. This gentleman, a man of rank and of great wealth, Hveda disreputably fast life. His friends thought if he could only be j induced to marry, he would become a

better man. He held out for a time, at length he announced his intention of tak ing a wife, to the unspeakable delight of his family. A short time, however, convinced them, that marriage had in no way altered his habits. This state of things continued some time longer, when his wife pleaded with him to sanction their living separately on their own estate, that there might be no public scandal. This he readily assented to, at the same i time acknowledging that he did not deserve so much consideration at her hands. So while he lived in town, she occupied one of their country mansions, busying herself with tho management of his large property. Amid all this man's profligacy (and he was most profligate) he possessed the one unextinguishablo mark of a true gentleman, viz., respect for a good woman, and the one redeeming feature of his life was tho honor he meted out to his absent wife in his household. Her place was always scrupulously pre pared at meal times. At dinner a page always stoood behind her empty chair, and whatever she showed a precleliction for, when there, received unromitting attention in her absence, and whenever they were about to change residences, he would summon his servants, tell them impressively that their lady was coming, give numberless instructions and see them carried out. On her arrival, ho would have tho servants ranged on either side of the hall, while he himself assisted her out of the carriage, and escorted her to her room with the utmost ceremony. He told tho writer that she was an angel, sent to keep him from utter ruin, that her wisdom had held his property when he was recklosly kicking it to tho winds, she was so wise and good, she loaded him with honor by poaring his name. Here we see something of the old state of things— tho gallantry so pleasant to read about— that existed in the time of our grand mothers, most of whom were more or less strong minded women, that is, if good, sound sence attended by industry, economy, and charity, go any way to form the article.

Beautiful Hands.

' Thebe are,' says the New Yohk ' Mer cuey,' ' more ladies inordinately vain of their hands in New York than in any capital in Christendom,' said a famous modisto who is yearly in the habit of visiting London, Paris, Vienna, and Mad rid, to the writer a few days since. 'Is this vanity well founded P1 the Mkbcttby representative asked. ' I don't deny that it is,' madatne replied. • Thero aro among New York and Brooklyn belles as sweetly pretty hands as you will find anywhere, and among girls who do not aspire to be fashionable, one can con stantly see beautiful, shapely hands.

•It if? not the size of the glore that makes the hand attractive ; it is its shape ita characteristics, its softness, its delicate blue veins, its thumb and its fingers. Now, my hand has no pretensions to bo of the fairy typo. I use a glove of the ' seven' size yet it is not an unsymmetrical hand.'

It was a fair and lovely hand, adorned by a single ring—the hymeneal hoop—arid it was quite evident that the lady was proud of it, and would not have changed it even if she could. In response to a remark intended to be complimentary, she said, 'O, yes ; I could wear a 'six acd a lialf or a ' six and a quarter' with infinite ease ; but then by hand would not look so natural. Many ladies continue to squeeze their hands into 'fives' that are very little less tnan mine, but I neither cramp my hands nor my feet.'

TEE HANDS OF LADIES ABROAD. " On being interrogated respecting beauti ful hands she had seen, Madame said in substance: 'In Madrid, at the regular Sunday bull-fights, you will see more pretty hands than anywhere else. The hand of the Empress Eugenic was as nearly perfect as possible. It was not as small as many hands you may see any night at Wallack's, Union Square, or Fifth Avenue Theatres ; yet in an artistic sense it was simply beautiful. As a rule one sees small hands in Paris, but they do not compare in symmetry with those of the Spanish ladies, especially the Moors. Lady Diane do Vere Beauclerc, daughter of the Duke of St. Albans, has very beau tiful hands and arms. She was for quite a number of years the reigning beauty of Victoria's court. The London club gal lants were enchanted with her, and the Prince of Wales, who is just one month her elder, was perfectly infatuated. They ] used to mcct —' Here Madame was summoned away and the gossipy interview came to an end. THE, BLACK-HAIRED, OR LATIN RACES, Which inhabit Spain, Italy, and France, with a scattering in the southwest of Ireland,' said the Doctor, ' are the small handed, tapering-fingered, artistic race of civilization. The Saxon—blue-eyed and yellow-haired —race, are distinguished ' for their large hands and their inferiority in matters, of art or eestkeitcs. W^ere the

races are mixed, as in England and America, you will perceive, if you study the fact, thai the artistic, small hand still belongs to the dark-haired women, and that larger hands prevail among blondes. There are of course exceptions; but what I have stated is the rule.'

' To what nation do you award the palm in respect to beautiful hands ?' the writer asked.

•To Spain undoubtedly; but lam not in the habit of regarding the question in this light. Tho hands of the aristocracy of any country are far superior in every point of beauty to those of the middle and lower classes. Nothing tells like blood or breeding as far as hands are concerned. In any European country the difference between tho hands of the plebeians and aristocracy is most marked ; so much so that when a girl is endowed with a pretty hand she is tho envy of all her fellows ' THE ARISTOCRATIC HAND-

In answer to tho query. 'In what par ticular consists the peculiar beauty of tlie aristocratic hand ?' the doctor said : ' It is difficult to describe it—color, texture, form, symmetry, plumpness or roundness—deli cato veins, forms of nails aud finger-tips, and form of the hand generally, outside and inside. The lines inside may be too many, too mazy and too much intersected, and the cup of Diogenes, as it is called, may be irregular and unshapely in form ; in short, it requires an education to appre ciate and understand a perfect hand, and generally when you find one you have a perfect woman.'

A charming young lady in a fashionable ladies' glove emporium was next inter viewed. Sue smiled all over like a beauti ful rainbow when questioned respecting ladies' hands. Her own fair hands and tapering lingers were sufficients warm the heart of an anchorite, and there were half a score of entrancing creatures around with tho prettiest and tiniest hands, purchasing gloves. One sprightly brun ette, in tho bright light of youth and beauty, took a pair of microscopic ' fives.' A distracting blonde, whose cheek was woven of tho ruddy rose and the snow whito lily, in nature's dy&s, squeezed a plumpish hand with delightful fingers into a pair of • five and a quarter/ while her ma, a generously-formed matron, became very much flushed in the fac& while annihilating the cup of Diogenes ia a pair of ' &\k and throe quartos' light brown kids. ''-FIVES.' ' Fives' are the smallest size of what are reckoned as women's glovus/ said my informant; ' but there aro many ladies, both married and single, who w?ar misses' sizes, A beautiful Jewess who patron izes this store wear a misses' ' two ' size. Oh, you never saw such a pretty little hand as she's got; it's just like a large baby's ; mine is a monster beside it, and I wear a misses' ' four.' 'What is the average size of gloves sold to ladies?' she was asked. 'At this store ' sixes,' I think ; but there are many ladies who wear gloves absurdly too small for them. There are numbers of elegantly dressed women with hands large enough for gentlemen's sizes of gloves, yet they squeeze their fingers and part of their hand into a pair of ' SEVENS AND-A-HALF,' But there are some ladies, again, who wear nothing but silk gloves, on account of the size of their hands—they prefer to wear the largest size of silk, you see, rather than admit that they have to use a gentleman's size.

An observing and experienced lady ®f Fourteenth-street said: 'I have noticed that; dark-haired, dark-eyed women have the smallest and prettiest hands. Our New York women have many of them charm ing hands, but not unfrequently the fin gers are too short, and stunted ! 'Alas ! their hands are too delicate, I think—so delicate in fact, that, although many of their passers (^n exquisite capacity for musi cal instramentation, a few1 have sufficient muscular power to give shade and effect to the performances. The German and Hibernian women as a rule have large hands — often they are shapely enough, but they are too thick and fleshy. Of course hands become distorted in shape by various kinds of employment. It is not a common experience to find milliners, dressmakers and needlewomen with nice, shapely hands, while among saleswomen PRETTY HANDS ARE DECIDELLY COMMON. When you speak of really beautiful hands they are very uncommon. There are probably not more than three ladies on the New York stage to-day who possess what can be called beautiful hands; and I would not designate them —they are already too self-consciously aware of the fact. New England women, goodness knows, have slender enough hands. One al most sees through them. In point of fact, the hands of our American women are too slight and feeble, They are too ghostly white to be healthy-looking, Everybody knows what I mean by a healthy-looking band, and yet it is not so easily explained. Our women should exert their muscles more and go to bed earlier.