Califortsiia Agriculturist and Live Stock Journal. 



the peace of society is eTideutly imperil- 

 eil. Nothing must be done about slavery 

 until the chain eats into the flesh and 

 wrings a cry of agony from the lips. No 

 measures must be taken against pestil- 

 ence until it is decimating the pojjula- 

 tion. Statcsmanshiji is never to try to 

 prevent, but only to alleviate when po- 

 litical disease has become desperate. 

 Foresight, sagacity, comprehension, the 

 s.alvatiou of the state from the moral de- 

 terioration and the economical loss 

 of acknowledged abuses, these 

 are not to be considered as ele- 

 ments and purposes of political wisdom. 

 The practice of ages and of mankind is 

 to be our guide, as if it would not justify 

 every enormity and folly. Home, not 

 somewhere else, is the sphere of woman, 

 as if the only condition of home to most 

 women were not that they should toil 

 somewhere else. Finally, the intelligent 

 should-uot be allowed to do what the ig- 

 norant do or wish to do. The aft'able 

 chairmen must do better than this. Their 

 wisest way is to smile only, and not to 

 attempt to answer Abigail Adaraas.uuder 

 whatever name she may apjiear. 



g0,usirli0ljl |leaaiu§; 



Home. 



liY CiEOROE SWAIN. 



Home's not merc'ly four square walls, 



Tliougli with jiictures linug and gilded; 

 nome is where aftectiou calls. 



Filled with shrines the heart hath builded. 

 Home! go watch the faithful dove, 



Sailing 'ueath the heaven above ns: 

 Home is where there's one to love ns! 



Uome is where there's one to love! 



Home's not merely roof and room- 

 It needs something to endear it; 



Home is where the heart can bloom, 

 Where there's some kind lip to ch?er it! 



What is home with none to meet, 

 None to welcome, none to greet iisV 



Home is sweet— and only sweet— 

 Where there's one we love to meet ns. 



UP-COUNTRY LETTERS—NO. 4 



S3 



't 



BY r,.iCHEL A. KLY. 



HANGE and motion, it is said, are 

 the eternal laws of nature, and w'e 

 X^l mortals' lives are no exception to 

 )jc_I) her rules. Scarce had I taken a 

 ■^^Js deep breath of air invigorated by 

 sunbeams, into my weary body, when my 

 good, kind hostess was taken danger- 

 ously ill. As I feared, a long account 

 was to be settled with over-taxed nature. 

 And, as they were dependent on the 

 friendliness of neighbors to care for her 

 and the children, I felt it best to find a 

 new home. So hero I am, in the sunni- 

 est, cheeriest spot im.iginable. Already 

 I feel the calm, quiet atmosphere of 

 peace which pervades the household. 

 My room is a southwest one, conse- 

 quently always sunny, as my new host- 

 ess and friend says a sick room alwaj's 

 should be. The west window opens on 

 the porch, over whicli the delicate and 

 fragrant honeysuckle and clustering 

 grape vine will soon make a bower. Al- 

 ready I see traces of their work — swell- 

 ing of buds and the like. 



In my new home I have teacher and 

 physician combined with hostess and 

 friend. Oh! why are there not more of 

 such in the world? But I shall confuse 

 you, perhaps,— and myself, too— unless 

 1 quietly ]iaint my new life, and the new 

 hopes and worlds of usefulness which 

 are opening to my view. Five children 

 and one hired man, besides the father 

 and mother and myself, constitute our 

 family. And, though farmers, they have 

 but two meals a day. SIcat once or 



twice a week; no tea or coffee, but cho- 

 colate, or a gruel made of oatmeal or 

 Graham flour, or boiled cocoa shells, 

 every morning instead. But the child- 

 ren prefer, as do I, fresh, warm milk. 

 The Graham rolls, or gems, or corn cake, 

 are truly sweet and delicious. My good 

 hostess seems amazed at the ignorance 

 and folly of the country people generally 

 in not eating it more. Then fruit is a 

 staple article of diet at each meal, and 

 the vegetable garden, kept the year 

 round to furnish something green each 

 day, is indeed a blessing. But what sur- 

 prises me most is the ease with which 

 this woman performs her daily duties. 

 To bo sure, she wears a short dress, and 

 has only to get two meals a day; yet 

 that can't really make such a difference, 

 can it? Let me see — breakfast at eight, 

 at which all the children but baby are 

 dressed neat and clean, and ready for 

 school. On the table is a big dish of 

 Graham or oatmeal mush, boiled or 

 baked potatoes, a pitcher of fresh cream, 

 warm milk, a plate of golden butter, and 

 another of hot gems, with a fragrant 

 glass of fruit, canned and most luscious 

 to behold. Surely a breakfast for a king 

 — and easy to get, too. The men have 

 done their chores and been at work an 

 hour or more, and now come in with 

 hearty appetites, as do we all. The 

 children go to school, and the mother, 

 whose tasks are already in part done, 

 gathers up the dishes, and as she has a 

 sink and water hand}' in it, a permanent 

 boiler on the stove also, which the man 

 fills each morning, it is but a trifle to 

 wash, wipe and put away the dishes in 

 the closet at her right hand, not a step 

 away. Meantime I sit in the sun b3- the 

 open door and watch the quiet, happy 

 baby, who has taken care of herself so 

 long on its own rug on the floor, and be- 

 gin to frame a world of questions to ask 

 this woman as soon as babj' is bathed 

 and dressed and nursed to sleep. The 

 children do not return from school until 

 three, so that we dine at half-past two, 

 they getting in by the time we are only 

 'juietly hungry, and can listen to their 

 day's mishajis and joys. The dinner is 

 composed of two or three kinds of vege- 

 tables, cold rolls or loaf bread, fruit, and 

 a piidding of some kind, and always a 

 truly lovely boquet of fresh flowers, 

 gathered by the children on their way 

 from school or from the front garden. 

 After this meal the two eldest children 

 clear away the table, wash and wipe 

 and ijut away the dishes, while the 

 mother continues her sewing and the 

 others play with the year-old baby. A 

 lunch of bread and fruit, after the day's 

 work, is sociallj' set in two dishes. Such 

 is the daily routine of this household, 

 except washing-day, which she has a way 

 of turning off in the same easy manner. 

 I really forget mj' own aches and pains, 

 if I have anj', in these days, so busy are 

 my thoughts in questioning wherein this 

 little woman is sui)erior to the other,and 

 to most every wife and mother in the 

 land. I have about concluded that she 

 not oidy has br.iins, but nscn them— ap- 

 plies them to her daily life, and practices 

 wh.at she preaches. And this is the 

 woman I have heard sneers about — short 

 dress, hygienic woman doctor, strong- 

 minded woman, and many more less bo- 

 coming epithets! Well, I myself should 

 not have known her W(n'th without tliis 

 chance, which has made mo a silent 

 spectator of her family and its workings. 



GRANDFATHER'S LETTERS- 

 NO. 7. 



AUNT MAKy's IIKPLY TO IXULEWOOD. 



Dear Ivqleirnod: True, we cannot but 



coincide with you in thinking — yes, and 

 knowing how necessarj' is congenial, suit- 

 able comjianionship in life's journeyings. 

 With ever}' word you say on that subject 

 we heartily agTce; but with all this there 

 yet remains an individuality that, under 

 certain conditions and circumstances, 

 must still remain intact. You may have 

 yet to learn how much your own individ- 

 ualism may be mergediu that of another, 

 and how much that other's may be 

 merged in yours; and what is to be the 

 result when they will not thus merge to- 

 gether? Ah! I know you men, iirior to 

 marriage, during the courting season, 

 feel like giving in to everj- suggestion of 

 your lady love, but the case becomes too 

 often sadly altered afterwards, when im- 

 perious self-will seems to usurp the 

 place where formerly love for that other 

 reigned supreme, and self was but of 

 secondary consideration. True, we ad- 

 mire masculine suj^remacy and the right 

 to reign in its legitimate sphere, but 

 there it must be kept; just so of the fem- 

 inine supremacy, that also must be kept 

 to its legitimate sphere, all subject to 

 that higher law of our nature in the in- 

 tellectual, moral and spiritual, and love, 

 pure and holy love, presiding over all. 



Ma and I, and even Angle herself, 

 every one of us, feel the imijortance of 

 the event to which you allude, and if the 

 young felt it as we older ones do, doubt- 

 less more would be restrained from en- 

 tering upon it. However, nature asserts 

 her own rights. I rejoice to see those 

 who recognize those rights, in the high- 

 est departments of their natures. As to 

 those rights, Mr. Inglewood, I appeal to 

 you before you proceed further, when 

 you come to discover that Angle's indi- 

 vidualism differs from your own, and in 

 some cases cannot be brought to merge 

 into yours, how will you take it? We 

 claim for Angle some rights of body and 

 soul that no earthly power may take from 

 her; for the former, the due preservation 

 of her health, and for the latter, its sal- 

 vation according to her peculiar notions 

 on that subject. These matters might 

 take a turn quite different from your own 

 ideas on those things. If so, can you 

 still say, "My beloved Angle, your health 

 and your salvation arc as dear to me ns 

 to yourself. Do as you think best. I 

 forego .all in your favor, so long as you 

 do not require a tour to Europe for the 

 fonner, nor a hundred-dollar mass for 

 the~' latter." Of these extreme cases, 

 truly there is no danger, but I cannot say 

 if there may not bo something in that 

 direction that may requu-e, on your part, 

 some self-control, and self-abnegation 

 enough, at least, to subdue that imperi- 

 ous self-will and treat that other individ- 

 ualism with the courteous, loving-kindli- 

 ness of manner that you would like to 

 have meted out to you in like circum- 

 stances. Now is the time to think over 

 these things, Mr. Inglewood. 



As to that to which you refer "the 

 [physical conditions and circumstances," 

 t am authorised by ma and Angie to say 

 if the soul affinities are all right, they 

 nill not fear for the other, but trust lo 

 that good providence that always rewards 

 (;he energetic and industrious, and trust 

 f.f Angle's present state of health con- 

 tinues, she may have heroism enough to 

 (;ako her own jiosition on life's great bat- 

 tle lield, and mutually aid her companion 

 in his arduous efforts for victory. And 

 Jiere let me say to you, either as an ac- 

 cepted lover or a probationary one, nev- 

 er use deception; l>e frank and true in all 

 your statements; abhor deception ns you 

 would a lie, and Avhen you have fairly 

 won that heroine from a pure good honu', 

 who can say "what is good enough for 

 you is good enough for me," and you 

 have the tact to retain that lovo all your 



life long — and it will be your own fault if 

 you don't — you will have won a prize 

 of which you may be proud till your dy- 

 ing day. Truly, your friend. 



Aunt Maey. 



WHAT YOUR NEIGHBORS KNOW. 



BY KLIZA E. ASTHONT. 



If you wish to find out anything aboiit 

 yourself, ask your neighbors; thej- will 

 be sure to know. They can tell whether 

 you live happily or not; and, of course, 

 it would give them more food for reflec- 

 tion if you did not. They know how 

 many visitors you have, and will peer 

 through the window-shutters for hours, 

 in the hope and expectation of finding 

 out some news. If you venture on the 

 street in a new suit, your neighbors won- 

 der how many more new clothes you are 

 going to buy, and how your husband can 

 get along with such an extravagant wife ; 

 and, w ith raised eye-brows and pursed 

 mouths, they will shake their heads and 

 exclaim, "Poor man! how I pity him; 

 but you couldn't expect much else from 

 her." If you venture out without your 

 spouse, your neighbors are on the qui virc 

 to find out where you are going, and 

 whom you are going with. One will say 

 that you are a ilirt; another will repeat 

 it, w-ith the addenda that you have left 

 your confiding spouse, and so on, until 

 the mole-hill becomes a mountain; but 

 endeavor to trace it back, and you will 

 get no satisfaction but "They say." If 

 you are single, your neighbors wonder 

 when on earth you are going to get mar- 

 ried, and kindly (?) add that you have 

 tried often enough, but always failed — 

 and no wonder. For their ^nrt, they 

 could not see what there was attractive 

 in such a looking specimen as you were. 

 Now if it were their Ella or Eafella, the 

 men would be sure to propose; but you 

 — bah ! you were cut out for an old maid. 

 When you are married, your neighbors 

 all flock in, and pr}' and peer into this 

 room and that closet, and praise every- 

 thing, from your husband down to the 

 feather pillows. But, after they have 

 left your house, they compare notes. 

 One says, with a snifl", that the curtains 

 were only cheap, cotton lace; another, 

 that the table-cover was actually darned; 

 a third, that you need not put on such 

 airs, for yoiu- carpet was only ingrain, 

 after all; and she didn't see why you had 

 so many hanging baskets and vines, un- 

 less it was to catch the dust; and then 

 they all groan, and say that you will 

 come to the poor-house, and you deserve 

 it for lieing so extravagant, and they pity 

 your husbrnd for being so foolish and 

 indulgent, and only wish they had con- 

 trol of you for a short time. You are 

 entii-ely too independent and don't-care 

 in your manner to suit them. Wouldn't 

 they like to sober you down? Oh, no! 

 It you visit the iiost-office oftener than 

 once a month, your neighbors wonder 

 who you correspond with. There must 

 be something wrong, and your spouse 

 ought to know it. For they actually saw 

 you receive six letters at one time, and 

 gracious knows how many papers. The 

 idea of a married wonniu receiving that 

 many letters more than once a year, and 

 then ,viii7( a bundle of papers! For their 

 part, they can't find time to read the 

 papers, they have so mucn else to do (i. 

 e., gossiping), and think a woman must 

 be crazy to want to know about affairs 

 all over the world, and don't see what 

 earthly good it does yoti to know .about 

 current events. They don't uiulcrstand 

 how you can perform your household 

 duties and also write for t)ic papers; but 

 of course your husband comes home and 

 sits down to a half-cooked meal, whilr 



