California Agriculturist and Live Stock Journal. 



shake out the wrinkles. The entire pro- 

 cess should be gone through quickly,and 

 ahviiys on bright, drying days. This is 

 my phiu. and the best I hiive over tried. 



THE NECESSITIES OF LIFE. 



BY MRS. LILLIBKIDGE. 



The necessities of life, such as food, 

 raiment, shelter, warmth, etc., are so in- 

 dispensable to life and comfort that 

 where we see the lack or want of them, it 

 arouses our sympathy and thrills our 

 hearts with pity. The horrors of slow 

 starvation, or the death by exposure, as 

 the cast-away upon the ocean, or the still 

 more frequently met homeless, house- 

 less wanderer, the foot-sore, friendless 

 outcast, who meets no smile, no joy on 

 earth — these vibrate each sympathizing 

 chord of our natures, and we give of our 

 abundance, or even share our scanty 

 means with them. This is well. Sur- 

 face sorrow strikes the eye and awakes 

 the pitying spirit, which seeks to relieve. 

 Would that this feeling were more gen- 

 eral. 



But how few think of the soul needs — 

 the heart hunger — the slow starvation of 

 the affections — the more than blight of 

 all that renders life happj' or desirable! 

 How many maidens, forced to barter 

 themselves for a home and find they ai-e 

 only unhappy wives and unwilling moth- 

 ers, can attest this truth. There is an 

 atmosphere of coldness in a loveless 

 home — Oh! so cruel, so hard to bear. It 

 freezes all the life-springs of endeavor, 

 and sets a hopeless seal of discourage- 

 ment upon the brow of youth, causing a 

 poverty of spirit worse by far than the 

 tattered garb of the street beggar. There 

 is a sorrowing widowhood in unmated 

 hearts and an orphanhood of soul in the 

 ofTspring of such uncongenial parents. 

 There is loneliness and desolation for 

 those who yearn love and companion- 

 ship. There is death — death by keenest 

 of starvation. 



Many possessed of wealth and fame, 

 are writhing in torture and privation for 

 their soul-needs are unresponded to, and 

 their gold is but a mockery, and fame 

 worthless to a soul who thirsts for love. 

 Oh, no; the great necessities of life are 

 not merely food and clothing for the 

 body; that is well, but cannot satisfy all 

 the aspirations of humanity. We want 

 the blending of soul with soul, and life 

 with life, in harmony and love. This is 

 wealth worth possessing; this is an in- 

 heritance worth receiving. Let us culti- 

 vate it, live it, and bestow it more fully 

 upon our children. 



UP-COUNTRY LETTERS— NO. 3 



BY RACHEL A. ELY. 



Fatigue, weariness of soul, discomfort, 

 rain, mud, swollen streams and snow — 

 all these, and a sense of homelessuess, 

 have been my daily companions the past 

 week of travel to my retreat in these 

 mountain hills where, in a charming lit- 

 tle valley, I propose to tarry a while. 

 But now that the sun shines once more, 

 snow is gone, mud drying, and Nature 

 smiles in her spring garments of emer- 

 ald, my own flood tides are drying, hope 

 again tips my w'eary heart with its golden 

 light, and as the old aches and pains 

 grow less under its magic touch, I calmly 

 wait and fold my patient hands to watch 

 if the quiet calmness of mountain air and 

 life is truly building up wasted vitality 

 and easing the everlasting cough which 

 threatens to sunder soul and body. My 

 hostess is one of the old-fashioned sort, 

 I fat and motherly, but full of duties — 

 three men and four children beside my- 



self constitute her family — but, by keep- 

 ing steadily at work from early dawn 

 until ten or past at night, she manages 

 to keep ahead of her work. But wnen 

 harvest times comes I fear she will fail. 

 I sit and watch her by the hour (for the 

 weather won't permit of my sitting out- 

 side yet), wondering how she can man- 

 age to keep so fleshy under such a press 

 of work, and why, if she is truly healthy, 

 is she so full of aches and pains. Sit- 

 ting down to a breakfast table with fried 

 bacon, hot griddle cakes, coffee, cream, 

 fried potatoes and buttered toast, is 

 simple enough, but yet this hearty 

 woman eats a bit of toast and drinks a 

 cuji of coffee, and even that distresses 

 her. To be sui'e, she is tired and warm 

 with being up since four o'clock, feeding 

 pigs, helping milk, etc, and cooking the 

 breakfast, with tne children about her 

 wanting this and that, and distracting 

 her mind in a thousand ways. I pity 

 her, as I quietly lie in my adjoining bed- 

 room and hear distinctly .even the frying 

 of the meat. No wonder she loses com- 

 mand of her temper, with three men 

 watching and hurrying, but not offering 

 to help her — all the children half dressed, 

 and the baby crying from the cradle — the 

 frying bacon making as much noise as 

 any, and filling every corner with smoke, 

 even creeping into my room. I wonder 

 they don't open the windows and door 

 and air the room. Can all this have 

 anj'thing to do with her weak digestion 

 and gorged liver? 



After quiet is restored, men are gone 

 to work and baby sleeping, I go out, take 

 my cup of new milk and bread, and, as 

 I eat, watch the washing of dishes and 

 sweeping of rooms — if it is not washing 

 day — and I am more surprised continu- 

 ally to see how much and varied are this 

 woman's duties. No sooner are the beds 

 made, rooms swept, milk skimmed, 

 dishes washed, butter worked or churned, 

 and lamps cleaned — between all of which 

 the care of the baby and the two-year- 

 old boy and four-year-old girl must be 

 attended to — than is the dinner to be 

 got, with vegetables (mostly cabbage or 

 beets), boiled salt pork and potatoes, and 

 pudding or pie. Again the hurry and 

 heat, and with blazing face and baby in 

 arms she sits down to try to eat. Poor 

 so\il! a cup of tea, slice of bread and 

 butter, or bit of pie, is all she can swal- 

 low — though she feeds the fretful baby, 

 to keep it quiet, on pork and potato, 

 with sips of strong tea. I wonder if 

 such food is not one cause why the baby 

 cries and is so troublesome — though she 

 dont seem to he able to nurse it enough, 

 eating so little herself. 



Well, these thoughts tend to amuse me 

 and when I gain strength I shall try to 

 study them out, for I cannot understand 

 these things. Do all farmers' wives 

 work so — helping milk, feeding pigs, 

 etc., besides so many in-door cares and 

 inconveniences of house, carrying in 

 water and emptying again, etc.? Her 

 husband is kind and affectionate, but he 

 thinks her strong and hearty, yet I know 

 her to be ailing and hurt by the constant 

 drain upon her system, which, I fear, 

 will give way one of these days. 



A VOICE FROM THE RURAL 

 DISTRICTS. 



Dear Editor: I hear that an agricul- 

 tural journal published in San Jose de- 

 signs offering, for the accommodation of 

 its numerous country subscribers, to fill 

 orders in groceries, dry goods, or fancy 

 articles at a small advance upon the first 

 cost. If yours be the enterprising com- 

 pany' ready to help us poor dwellers in 

 rural districts in making life more en- 

 durable, accept our most earnest thanks. 



Your estimable paper has been a welcome 



quest at our fireside ever since its first 

 number was issued, and the valuable 

 hints for the farmer and stock raiser, 

 with the useful household reading, make 

 it the very best paper published on this 

 coast. Your friend and well-wisher, 



UOUSE-KEEPEB. 



[Yes; we have really undertaken to 

 accommodate our subscribers by procur- 

 ing any articles they may order on the 

 best possible terms as to quahty and 

 price. We do this without asking remu- 

 neration in commissions. Persons who 

 desire to take advantage of full markets, 

 but cannot afford to spend the time and 

 go to the expense of traveling, can be 

 just as well, or better served by sending 

 orders to us for anything sold either in 

 San Jose or San Francisco. Our ar- 

 rangements for doing this business, in 

 both places, are most complete, and will 

 be found thoroughly reliable. — Ed.] 



A HOUSEHOLD LETTER. 



BY MAKY MODOTAIN. 

 FROM "OVER THE HILLS." 



One of the pleasantest things I have 

 found in the beginning of centennial year 

 is the improvement in our agricultural 

 papers. When the Januarj' number of 

 the California Agricultueist came to 

 hand, we first admired the handsome, 

 new title page, and then a dip hero and 

 there assured us that it had brought a 

 well-furnished interior, and such variety 

 that each one might find something es- 

 pecially suited for self. 



It is right that farmers' papers should 

 be sociable and in some sort familiar in 

 style, and I am often astonished that 

 they suit our conditions of life so well, 

 when prepared, as they must be, amid 

 the distracting activities of the city. 



Yet here they come from out those 

 "noisy ways," — come dropping into 

 homes on hill or plain, breathing the 

 very quiet of these homes, filled to the 

 brim with sympathy and cheer, becoming 

 thus a part of all our lives. 



Last summer, when Jew'ell and her 

 advisers were agitating the yeast and 

 bread business, it became a lively topic 

 for us, and how free we were endorsing 

 this, or censuring that, according to the 

 range of personal experience! There 

 was great temptation to snatch a pen and 

 take a turn at "stirring the dough," or 

 giving the obstinate loaf a "raise;" but 

 just then we were in the midst of the 

 "company campaign," and one must 

 look sharp or her own cake will be dough. 

 If we always had time to write when the 

 fit is on, when suggestion or question 

 has roused the wish and ability to re- 

 spond, the editor would be overwhelmed 

 with "copy" and might even cry out in 

 dismay, "save me from my friends!" 



For my own part, I never read one of 

 our good home papers without finding 

 something to which I would like to re- 

 spond, and in your last there is so much, 

 so much — as if each contributor had 

 brought a "best gift" to enrich the first 

 offering of the year. Yet we feci sure 

 there is plenty more as good and yet to 

 come from Grandfather, Snip and Jew- 

 ell, from Up Country Letters, Busj' Bee, 

 and brisk Nell Van, who can turn her 

 hand to anything. To her I looked up 

 w'ith the profound respect that is due to 

 one who can calmly and gallantly lead in 

 the upper ranks of hygiene. How, then, 

 can I describe the tremor of doubt and 

 dismay that seized my mind as I stepped 

 one morning inside her gate and sniffed 

 — doughnuts! Nell Van frying dough- 

 nuts! I could as easily imagine "Water- 

 cure Trail" inside there eating them. 

 However, that "smell may come from the 



neighbors." So I "compoged myself, 

 as Sairy Gamp would say, and rang the 

 bell as if nothing had happened. But 

 inside the door it smelt nuttier than ever, 

 and I could not help asking the gay little 

 woman, " Is it possible, Nell Van, that 

 you fry doughnuts?" And she answered, 

 truthful as George Washington, "O, yes; 

 once in a while!" So I had something 

 to think about as I came home, and was 

 very glad I had caught her at it. For, 

 although I read papers that do denounce 

 doughnuts (and some deserve this ill 

 name), yet I continue to make them in 

 the winter, "to please ray husband," 

 and then, very kindly, I help to cat them 

 up; for they are plain and light, no more 

 greasy than a piece of bread and butter. 



There are two prime faults that spoil 

 a great many doughnuts. Fault No. 1 — 

 Made up too rich, or two soft, and sure 

 in either case to soak fat. Fault No. 2 — 

 Fat not kept at boiling point. Must be 

 boiling (not burning) all the time. 



A receipt for doughnuts in your Janu- 

 ary number is very good, I should think, 

 if the butter were left out. It seems as 

 if an}' grease mixed in the dough opens 

 wide doors for the entrance of more 

 grease while the cakes are frying. If 

 mixed w'ith skim milk, a very little cream 

 may .safely be added, and buttermilk will 

 do for mixing if not too butterv. 



FAMILIAR TALKS— No. 6. 



BY SNIP . 



i.EFORE I commenced gardening I 

 thought there was more fun than 



|) work about such an occupation, 

 but nave come to the conclusion 

 _ that it is just the other way — es- 

 pecially when one has a piece of work 

 nicely finished and suddenly finds it 

 must all be done over again. For in- 

 stance, last month, thinking one day it 

 was going to rain, I hastened to set out 

 nearly a hundred cabbage plants. The 

 storm did come, and before it was over, 

 part of the garden fence blew down, and 

 before it could be repaired the chickens 

 destroyed the plants. I have an idea 

 they were better natured about that than 

 I was when I had to set out another lot. 

 But in spite of all discouragements and 

 drawbacks, I enjoy the work; for while I 

 am putting the dry seeds into the warm 

 earth and watching the tiny plants 

 scringing up, I enjoy, in anticipation, as 

 I shall in reality after a while. The nice, 

 fresh vegetables I will have nfxt summer 

 independent of the vegetable peddler. 

 Of course, it will take work and time 

 and care, but do you not think I shall be 

 well paid by being able to gather vege- 

 tables fresh and crisp? Lust season, 

 during a visit to a friend in this valley, I 

 went with one of the girls to get some 

 tomatoes. On entering the garden, I 

 looked around to see where they were, 

 and finally saw them pulled out of the 

 weeds which were in greater abundance 

 than the vegetables. "Do you raise 

 many vegetables?" I asked. "No; some- 

 how they do not do very well." I should 

 think not. On a farm of 160 acres a 

 small garden was fenced in, and one- 

 third of it occupied with Mission grape 

 vines that did not furnish enough fruit 

 for the tabic, and of course none could 

 be canned or put up in any way for win- 

 ter. The remainder was used for vege- 

 tables, but as they received but little 

 cultivation, and weeds will grow without 

 it, the latter were in greater abundance 

 than anything else. With a good arte- 

 sian well on the place, not a particle of 



