THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
FEB. 7 
114 
CAMP LIFE IN A FARM HOUSE. 
MARY WAGER-FISHBR. 
VIII. 
Although the loss entailed by the cyclone was very con¬ 
siderable, to say nothing of the trees, we comforted our¬ 
selves with the small gain that is proverbially tacked on to 
all losses. For one thing, there would be plenty of hard 
wood for the open fires for a long time to come, and Wil¬ 
frid soon became, under the careful guidance of Anaxi¬ 
mander, an expert wood chopper, and until we broke 
camp the sound of the axe was heard for one to two hours 
daily, In the work of clearing up the wreckage. Another 
gain was a great increase in sunshine, and the rifts made 
by the slain trees opened up some very pretty distant 
views. We filled the house with odors from the fragrant 
boughs of theprostrate8pruces;theslender straight branches 
of the trees were trimmed and laid away for next year’s 
bean poles; Wilfrid got a pair of oars out of an arbor- 
vitse, and long trunks were levied upon for building a 
rustic bridge across the creek at the foot of the lawn. But 
the boles of the trees were left lying where they fell, for 
next year’s wood-chopping, if the camp life is then 
renewed. 
Anaximander, who had helped to pitch our tent with so 
many misgivings became, in time, an enthusiast over the 
farm, and frequently asked if it should not be kept for our 
regular summer outing place. There were no mosquitoes 
and there would probably never be a cyclone in the same 
place again 1 The surroundings were beautiful and could 
be made even more so at a small expense. The out-of-door 
life was so enjoyed by us all, that it required a very con¬ 
siderable “change in the weather ” to send us indoors to 
partake of our meals. Although dispensing with most of 
our accustomed surroundings, the table was spread with 
fine linen as at home—a comfort we had no wish to forego. 
But if one were to camp where laundrying was not to be 
had, stout manilla paper is not a bad substitute for linen, 
as it makes a tidy table cover, and Japanese paper can fill 
the role of napkins. By putting up hooks in the indoor 
parlor for the hammocks, we had very fair substitutes for 
couches and easy seats in the evenings, when there weren’t 
enough of easy chairs down stairs to go around 1 
As it is easier to look on and criticise than to do, we 
often commented upon the management of the farmers. 
They sent most of the milk of their 14 cows every 
morning to the city, 20 miles distant; the rest went to a 
creamery in the neighborhood. Carl complained of the 
losses they suffered, sometimes by the detention of their 
milk in the city, for some reason, until too sour to be sold, 
and often the cans were not returned for days, and then 
they would be in such condition as to be almost unfit for 
subsequent use. The milk was good, went to market en¬ 
tirely unskimmed and unwatered, and for what was sold 
they were paid from 2% to 4 cents per quart, exclusive of 
the freight, but somehow they seemed unable to prevent 
a certain loss of milk, which of course represented a good 
deal of work, and was discouraging. These frequent losses 
tended to divert the farmers in the neighborhood from 
keeping cows, but in whatever way they directed their en¬ 
ergies, the utmost vigilance was necessary. However, it 
seemed to me that on 50 or more acres of land within easy 
reach of the Philadelphia markets, truck gardening ought 
to pay well, and when I dilated upon what I would do, An¬ 
aximander would say : 
“ Your scheme is excellent 1 I fully agree with it 1 If you 
will have it carried out, you shall have all the profits ! 
You can run the farm, and I’ll hire a miller and set the 
mill going.” 
“Then business would hum 1” laughed Wilfrid, “ and I 
would go a-fishlng.” 
“I’m going to have a lot of Japanese ivy seeds planted 
around the mill this fall,” I interjected—“ they’ll make 
that old stone pile look like an English abbey when 
grown. Then it will be a source of beauty if not of 
profit 1” 
One of the books which we read with increased pleasure 
because of our rural surroundings, was Mr. Bigelow’s Life 
of William Cullen Bryant, the man who at 17 years of age 
—a country lad—wrote “Thanatopsis,” one of the immortal 
productions in literature, and those marvelous “Lines to 
a Waterfowl” four years later, and who, living beyond the 
age of four score years, never wore spectacles, and was 
never ill, although from infancy delicate in constitution 
and of slender build. He evidently attributed his excep¬ 
tional health and mental and physical preservation to his 
regular and simple habits of living—he drank neither tea 
nor coffee, used tobacco in no shape, never ate animal food 
for breakfast, using fruit instead, rode little, walked 
much, spent an hour or two in gymnastic exercises every 
morning before his bath, retired and rose early, and never 
resorted to stimulants or drugs for any purpose. When 
nearly 84 years of age, a friend remarked to him : “ I pre¬ 
sume that you have reduced your allowance of morning 
gymnastics t ” “ Not the width of your thumb nail,” was 
his prompt reply. “An hour and a half and frequently 
more.” He was intensely fond of his country home, of 
planting and pruning trees, of the garden and flowers and 
wherever he journeyed—in his own country or abroad— 
his mind often reverted to the growing things about his 
beloved home. 
One day I read aloud to Wilfrid the story of “ Black 
Beauty ’’—the experiences of a horse in England “ told by 
himself” through the pen of a sympathetic woman—and 
although the child had all his life been accustomed to 
seeing the domestic animals belonging to his home treated 
with the utmost kindness and sympathy, yet this little 
book made a great impression upon him. He noticed 
more than ever before how horses were driven, if with a 
chtck rein, blinds, if whipped, scolded, screamed at, if 
blind, lame or old, clipped or sheared, if the stable was 
comfortable and wholesome, and the hundred things that 
contribute to the happiness or misery of a horse appeared 
to him with a new meaning. Before the summer was 
over Plutarch’s Lives had been read and Pericles, Socrates, 
Marc Antony, Julius Caesar, Solon and Lucullus were as 
familiarly discussed at meal times as Reciprocity and 
the McKinley Bill; the seal fishery troubles in Behring 
Sea, or the creek fisheries nearer home. 
NORTHERN NEGROES : AN OLD SLAVE. 
Scattered throughout the North, on the lines of the old 
“ underground railroad,” are colonies of negroes—former 
slaves or their descendants. New Jersey has a large col¬ 
ored population. Out among the hills of North Jersey 
slaves were comparatively safe from capture by slave 
hunters. The inhabitants were intensely abolitionist, 
and the country was wild and difficult to search. Many 
fugitive slaves on the way to Canada stopped in this sec¬ 
tion, and either earned and bought their freedom, or kept 
in seclusion until the war. During the “ draft riots ” in 
1863, many negroes fled from New York City into the sur¬ 
rounding country where they have since lived. The fugi¬ 
tive slaves were, as a rule, fine specimens of their race. 
One can easily see that none but men of intelligence, cour¬ 
age and endurance could ever make their way out of the 
slave States to the North. The weaklings were bound to 
fail in such an attempt. Southern men who, by chance or 
otherwise, visit these Northern negro colonies are always 
curious to observe the effect of Northern influences upon 
the negro. Put the negro in a place where he forms but a 
small minority of the population ; give him the benefit of 
free competition and a fair chance, and will he gain in dig¬ 
nity or give new evidence of the inferiority of his race ? 
The fair-minded man is forced to admit that the better 
class of negroes gain in dignity and respectability and 
make good use of their opportunities. There are lazy ras¬ 
cals among them—so there are among the whites—but the 
proportion of industrious and honorable men among the 
Northern negroes is as large as the proportion of indus¬ 
trious and honorable whites, if not larger. The writer 
once addressed a Southern negro as “Mr. Powers.” A 
small boy who overheard the remark laughed as though 
he had listened to a good joke. 
“ What’s the matter, Jimmie ? ” 
“ Why you said, ‘ Mister,’ to a nigger 1 ” 
There are plenty of black men in the country who have 
a perfect right to the title of “Mister.” One of them is 
shown at Fig. 45, exactly as he appeared walking about 
the streets of Vineland, N. J. This man, Payton Thomas, 
is an old-time slave, belonging to a period of history that 
few of us can recall. He is among the last of his genera¬ 
tion. A few years more and the true and faithful old slave 
will live but in memory. 
Mr. Thomas was born near Oxford, N. C., over 80 years 
ago. He belonged to a preacher named Sbadrach Price. 
When but a lad it was his duty to follow the wagon from 
Oxford to Richmond, carrying a piece of wood to block the 
wheels whenever the mules stopped on a hill-side to rest—a 
good illustration of the “ cheap labor” of slavery. When 
12 years old he was sold away from his parents and taken 
to Selma, Alabama. There he grew up and married. 
Years after he had left North Carolina, he heard that his 
parents were owned at Montgomery, Alabama. One 
Christmas he obtained permission to go and see his 
mother—walking the dist ance. The poor old black woman 
was as proud and happy to see her son as any white woman 
could have been. It is wonderful how the negroes were 
able to send messages as they did. Payton belonged at 
this time to a drunken master, who when in liquor would 
order his slaves whipped without mercy. While here his 
three children were sold away from him and sent to 
Louisiana. He has never heard of them since. Later his 
wife was sold. Ten years after this he married again, this 
time a woman owned by a former Virginia family. Pay- 
ton was put in jail to prevent his running away, and the 
man who owned his wife bought him for $750, which was 
considered a very low price, but his old owner knew he 
would run away at the first chance if kept away from his 
wife. 
When, during the war, the Union army came near 
Selma, Payton was sent to the mountains with a rich 
master’s gold and silver to hide it so that the “ Yankees ” 
would not take it away. He spent nearly a month in this 
work, successfully hiding and guarding the treasure. 
How many white men with the bitter records of slavery 
lashed into their backs would have carried out that work ? 
After the war Payton lived with a man who moved North 
to Salem, Mass. This man bought a place at Vineland 
and sent Payton and his wife to care for it. The man 
died soon after, but the Thomases have lived in Vineland 
ever since, raising fruit and melons—the principal crop 
being water-melons from seed which they had brought from 
Alabama. The old man is now very feeble and unable to 
work. He is supported by his faithful wife. The Gage 
Tool Co., kindly sent us a photograph of Payton Thomas, 
together with a short account of his life. 
Such, in brief, is the story of a slave’s life—a faithful, 
devoted creature, true to those who befriended him. 
Flogged, starved and abused by brutal masters, one would 
have supposed that all love or respect for the white race 
would have been crushed out of him. But no ! When the 
“Yankees,” bringing a flag that meant freedom came 
close to him, he faithfully turned from them to save his 
master’s treasure because that master had bought him 
and placed him near his wife. The bitterness of the fierce 
conflict over slavery has well-nigh faded out. Let it dis¬ 
appear 1 Let us learn to do justice to the slave and to be 
fair to the slave owner. 
One cent will mail this paper to your friend 
in any part of the United States, Canada or 
Mexico, after you have read it and written 
your name on the corner. 
Womans Work. 
$5.00; $3.00; $2.00. 
OUR ECONOMY PRIZES. 
ID you ever hear it said of a man who had not been 
financially successful that it was because his wife 
was not economical ? Probably there is not one of you 
who has not heard it many times over. Three times out 
of five, at least, the wife will be blamed. It isn’t often 
fair; yet we all know that economy is one of the great 
steps toward success. That is why we want points on this 
subject, and why we are willing to pay for them, we hope 
you are jotting down some of your best ones. 
* * * 
We give up most of our editorial space this week to 
notes about what women are doing, believing that this is 
what our women desire to know about. 
THE WORLD OF WOMEN. 
ISS EVA R BRIGART won the $150 scholarship 
offered to the student passing the best entrance ex¬ 
amination at Barnard College, the Annex to Columbia. 
The entering class, it Is said, numbers this year only seven. 
* * * 
The Woman’s Journal says : “ Young women through¬ 
out the country who desire to pursue the study of the law, 
but have not the means, are reminded that of the 20 en¬ 
dowed scholarships in the law school for women attached 
to the University of New York, only five are taken, so 
that there are 15 vacancies awaiting pupils.” Mrs. Emily 
Kempin, LL. D., has charge of the class, in which there 
are now 12 pupils. As seven of these are wealthy women 
who did not take scholarships, there remain 15 of these 
yet to be filled. 
* * * 
It is said that Miss Carrie Horton, the pretty English 
girl who won the first prize for a butter study of Mardchal 
Nlel Roses at the Cheshire Dairy Show, has had the offer 
of a very handsome salary if she will make butter roses 
by the year. In this age of the world, no real accomplish¬ 
ment is without a money value, if one can only find out 
just where it is wanted. 
* * * 
Should not women all over the United States hold the 
memory of Francis E. Spinner in respect and gratitude ? 
At the present time there are about 5,000 women employed 
in the Departments at Washington, and the good general 
was the first person who, in the face of much opposition, 
gave women a place in the government service, employing 
them in his branch of the Treasury Department. 
* * * 
Mrs. Abby Morton Diaz, the president of the Woman’s 
Educational and Industrial Union, was the daughter of 
Capt. Ichabod Morton, a well-known abolitionist, and she 
grew up in the very atmosphere of ideas. As a child she 
joined the Anti-Slavery Society, and contributed money to 
its funds by going without butter, thus saving something, 
and by knitting and selling some articles of handiwork. 
Isn’t this what ails the dolls of our country: they were 
not brought up in an atmosphere of ideas ? 
* * * 
Nearly four-fifths of the women who have tried the 
civil service examinations at Washington were successful, 
so the records say; while nearly half the men who at¬ 
tempted them failed. This does not go very far toward 
showing the mental superiority of the men, does it ? 
* * * 
Mrs. Frances Fisher Ward, a Vassar graduate, has a 
farm in New Hampshire, where she successfully sterilizes 
milk for New York babies. She claims that statistics 
show that nine-tenths of the children of college-bred 
women survive infancy ; a record never before equalled in 
any class, age, or country. If we take into consideration 
the neglect which, according to all accounts, falls to the 
lot of the children and families of women who know some¬ 
thing and do something besides housework, this is over¬ 
whelming evidence of something I But whether it is that 
it is better to let children alone, or that education helps 
women to be better mothers, no doubt some learned man 
will soon tell us,—if we keep still long enough. By the 
way, it is said that Mrs. Ward is a model mother, in spite 
of the fact that she is a fine writer and speaker, a graduate 
of one college and a trustee of another, her husband’s 
secretary, etc. Do exceptions only prove the rule ? 
&Ui£cclUunou£ galvniisinfl. 
In writing to advertisers, please mention The R. N.-Y. 
Packer’s Tar Soap 
The Standard for Skin Diseases. Cures dan¬ 
druff and prevents premature baldness; 
makes the skin smooth, soft and healthy; 
prevents chapping, chafing, &c. Invaluable 
to the nursery, and the favorite antiseptic 
and deodorant toilet soap. 
25 cents per cake. All Druggists, or 
The PACKER MFG. CO., 100 Fulton St,, Kew York. 
