the bottom of bis kahn we started on our | lying, and passing through a little lock, journey. The boat shot along a poplar we reached the first Spreewald village, and willow fringed rivulet skirting the overhung by towering trees which in town, and teeming with craft to that ex- their summer foliage must make the tent that each movement of the oar ne- scene one of striking beauty. This is cessitated an exchange of compliments Lehde, and the first object which arrests between our boatman and one or other the eye is the inevitable military noticeof his many acquaintances. After devi- board nailed to a post rising out of the ating, now to the right and now to the water, and setting forth the number of left, we eventually struck the main stream, men which the village has to furnish to where our boat turned aside to allow of a the Landwehr. The picturesque, rickety funeral procession, from some neighbour- wooden houses, half hidden behind huge ing Spreewald village, passing. In the stacks of firewood, consisting of merely prow of the foremost kahn lies a small a single floor and with remarkably high sarcophagus-shaped coffin hung round thatched roofs, betray the Slavonian oriwith green wreaths, and we discern at a gin of their owners. Long ladders hang glance that some weeping father is carry-under the projecting eaves, which are ing his dead child to its final resting- fringed round with tobacco-leaves drying place. Following come the boats within the sun, while the roofs are crowned the mourners, the men all in black, with at each end by a couple of rudely carved tall fluffy hats, and the women equally in cocks' heads, the distinctive mark of a black, with ample white kerchiefs crossed Spreewald dwelling. Every house has on their breasts, and coiffures falling in its little box fixed in the nearest tree for triangular form behind. The clergyman, the storks to build their nests in when whose cap and gown remind one of a the warm weather comes round. In the Paris advocate, is waiting on the bank to village all is bustle and excitement, for a receive the dead, while beside him stands score of kahns are being laden with hay, the schoolmaster with a troop of shiver- vegetables, and poultry, preparatory to ing school-children, who chant some starting on their long journey to Cottbus, melancholy mourning chorus as the cof-or some more distant market. The fin is borne ashore. young women in their short bulky skirts of the very brightest hues, with kerchiefs of brilliant flower patterns tied round their heads, and scarlet stockings and sabots, or boots reaching to the knee, show themselves equally active with the men, and punt their kahins with like dexterity. Some curious customs, we learned, are still extant in the Spreewald villages when the head of a family dies. For instance, if the deceased should have chanced to be a bee-keeper one of the family will go to the hive, and, striking the comb, will exclaim, Bees, arise, your master is dead!" On the morning. After leaving Lehde we pass through of the funeral, too, the men proceed to wide tracts of meadow land, its monotothe cattle-sheds, and, after causing the nous flatness broken simply by a few animals to get upon their legs, and pla-trees-vestiges of the former ancient cing cheese before them, will solemnly forest and by the customary countless announce to them that the body is about hayricks. In summer time, when densely to be taken away. overgrown with tall luxuriant grass, this seemingly boundless plain presents some resemblance to the savannahs of South America. To-day, however, its aspect is altogether Siberian. The only signs of life are an occasional passing kahn, piled up with hay or manure, and some solitary sheep, rare objects at any time in the Mark of Brandenburg. On reaching Leisse, however, in front of the village school, we come up with several boats crowded with chubby-cheeked young Wends, looking, in their fur caps and tight jackets and gay-coloured frocks and fantastic headgear, like so many diminutive prototypes of their elders. They are hurrying home to dinner, it seems, the more adroit among them punting the When we are clear of Lübbenau countless hayricks dot the fields on every side, and we are continually meeting boats generally in couples and lashed together side by side, piled up with recently-made hay. The men who propel them wear the prevailing costume of the peasantry of the Mark-round fur caps, short, tight-fitting jackets, and boots reaching to the knee. The district, it seems, yields immense quantities of long, coarse grass, a couple of crops being regularly harvested every year, which, as hay suited, however, only for cattle-finds a ready market at Cottbus and Görlitz. After shooting past a water-mill, off which quite a flotilla of flour-boats is . their time at work in the fields. FALSE ECONOMY. 447 econ kahns. We profit by the occasion to dame who declared that she always felt From The Victoria Magazine. A certain horticulturist of Holland never of a very injurious kind causing annoy- there, indeed, any profit in the whole ance to every member of a household, not transaction? Probably, more is spent unfrequently arise from false notions of through absence on "particular busieconomy. Undue stress is laid upon trifles, ness,' than is saved in the scullery at indulgence in which, however, conduces home. A lady of the penny-wise persuamaterially to the ease and pleasantness of sion arrays herself in her smartest to daily life, while the main causes constitut- make a morning call upon a friend, living, ing extravagance, that is to say, expendi- perhaps, at the distance of two or three ture to which our means are inadequate, miles. Overtaken by a sharp shower, are left out of sight. Heed is given to the midway on her return, she is invited by "anise and cummin" while mightier mat- the driver of a cab to shelter her sparkters are neglected, and thus, to borrow a ling apparel within it; but "cabs are so journalistic phrase just now in vogue, a expensive," she mentally exclaims, and 'harassing legislation " is the order of hastens on to reach home in the guise of the home rule exercised. With some in- a misérable, but blind to the fact that flexible housewives it is a boast that they she has spoilt five pounds' worth of finery never allow fires in the sitting-rooms in order to save half-a-crown! There is after the oak-apple is formed on the tree; in truth nothing more tiresome or more and so in our crude spring seasons with pernicious than the results practically of an east wind blowing through every misconceptions respecting economy. As cranny, a family group is doomed to shiv-in a State, so in a household, which is er, and the result is influenza and a government on a diminutive scale, lesser doctor's bill exceeding the cost of a considerations should yield to greater, ton of coal. But the lady, unconvinced of the fallacy of the dogmas, assigns the responsibility to the weather, "It is so inclement, you see.' There is, in some households, an especial observance of the twilight, at which hour a sort of curfew prevails, and a temporary cessation of employment is insisted on for the purpose of saving an inappreciable amount of gas or oil. The waste of that greatest treasure time, is not considered. Within some other four walls, cold mutton is still a tradition, and persistently appears at that ill-starred juncture known as "washing-day." A neighbouring laundry and reasonable terms, will not induce a certain type of womanhood to rid her house of the steam and the scent of soapsuds; notwithstanding the remonstrance of her husband, and the fact that he invariably has particular business in town on those ominous occasions, the practice is continued. The domestic atmosphere is, in a twofold sense, made an offence instead of an attraction, and all this, because to have the "washing done at home," is economical. Does a wife gain by dissenting from so simple a wish of her husband's, and is and "saving" at the expense of objects infinitely important, is a waste of that which is invaluable, and not to be atoned for. Instead of this, Lucullian luxuries of the palate are perhaps indulged in, and take precedence of all other requirements which should be represented in the expenditure of an income sufficient to cover all reasonable necessities, but not one excess. A shabby suit and a squalid abode are the results of disproportionate outlay. In some instances, a heavy rent is paid, and an irreproachable exterior of the " 'family mansion" is maintained to the detriment of health, abundance, and ease within. The nursery dinner consists of rice or bread-pudding only, beer is denounced as plebeian, a full glass of wine is an impropriety; and niggardliness at all points prevails. Consistency is disregarded for the sake of ostentatious display: but so long as we sacrifice matters of higher moment to the vanity of costly appointments in households, and outside show, so long shall we be losers, though practising a thousand mean contrivances which claim for them the merit of economizing. PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. For EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage. An extra copy of THE LIVING AGE is sent gratis to any one getting up a club of Five New Subscribers. Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & GAY. WHEN THE SONG'S GONE OUT OF YOUR LIFE. "When the song's gone out of your life, you can't start another while it's a-ringing in your ears, but it's best to have a bit of silence, and out o' that may be a psalm 'll come by-and-by.' [Edward Garrett. WHEN the song's gone out of your life, That you thought would last to the end, That first sweet song of the heart, That no after days can lend, The song of the birds to the trees, The song of the wind to the flowers, The song that the heart sings low to itself When it wakes in life's morning hours: |