i89i 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
599 
other over the orchard, which was white 
with bloom, to a mountain covered with 
grand old forest trees and I thought they 
would just suit Pbilena’s dreamy spirit. I 
thought, too, of the comfort that she and I 
would take there, talking over old times in 
the twilight, when my work was done and 
I had a few minutes to spend with her. 
Alas, how little we know of what is be¬ 
fore us 1 The first thing Philena said when 
she saw my pretty room, was: 
“Dear me, what a blue room this is! I 
can’t bear blue ! ” 
“ Why, you used to like it.” 
“ Possibly I did, but I don’t now; and 
what a draft those two windows do make ! 
You’ll have to close them, and then I pre¬ 
sume I’ll smother for the want of air.” 
With my mental thermometers lowered 
several degrees, I left her to her toilet and 
sought the kitchen to prepare supper, de¬ 
termined that she should be pleased with 
my cooking, if not with my furnishing. I 
had cream biscuits and strawberries with 
maple sugar and plenty of delicious cream, 
sponge cake and jelly cake. But she never 
ate warm biscuits ; they were unfit for any¬ 
body to eat; and strawberries didn’t agree 
with her; she was too tired to eat anyway, 
and she believed she’d go to her room and 
to bed. She went; but, just as I had donned 
a big gingham apron and commenced wash¬ 
ing the dishes, I heard her calling and 
hurried through the kitchen, the dining¬ 
room and the sitting-room into the hall, 
to see what she wanted. 
“There isn’t any camphor in my room,” 
she said; “I always have some camphor 
to inhale and to rub my temples with be¬ 
fore I go to bed.” 
Woe was me ! I had used the last drop 
of camphor that afternoon on the baby’s 
head, the wee youngster having gained a 
bump while I was putting the last touches 
to my friend’s room. But I had some cam¬ 
phor gum, which I hurriedly thrust into a 
bottle with some alcohol, shaking it vigor¬ 
ously as I carried it up stairs. 
Just as I had again reached the hall 
Philena called over the banister : “ You’ll 
have to bring me some warm water to 
bathe my face and neck; this is so cold that 
it will surely give me a chill.” 
I carried up a pitcher of warm water and 
thought that now she would surely be 
settled for the night; but, just as I had re¬ 
sumed my dish-washing, there was another 
call. This time Philena wanted some pep 
permint essence to bathe the back of her 
neck; it felt stiff and lame from riding in 
the cars. I told her I was sorry, that my 
little boy had eaten too many green cucum¬ 
bers the day before, and I had given him 
the last drop of the essence. But couldn’t 
the little girl go down to the store and get 
some for her ? 
It was a good half mile to the store and 
it was then almost the girlie’s bed-time, 
but I thought: “ If it will only settle her 
the child shall go.” With my guest sup¬ 
plied with peppermint, I went back to the 
kitchen hoping that I could have a chance 
to finish my work and make ready for 
breakfast ? Vain hope! in less than five 
minutes I heard another call and made the 
long trip to the hall again. 
‘Why, Geraldine I” Pbilena screamed, 
“ there is no feather bed here; I can’t pos¬ 
sibly sleep without feathers I” I declare I 
was beaten, for I hadn’t a feather-bed in the 
house; I became so disgusted with them 
when I taught school and boarded around, 
that I wouldn’t have one about me. For a 
minute I couldn’t think what to do. “ Oh 
Jeremiah, you’ll have to run over to Mrs. 
Simpkins’s just as quick as you can and 
borrow a feather bed; Philena says she 
can’t sleep without one.” 
Jeremiah said something about feather 
beds too hard for such a soft article; 
but of course he went, and he looked so 
comical coming across lots with one of Mrs. 
Simpkins’s big feather beds over his head 
and shoulders that, tired and discouraged as 
I was, I had to laugh. He carried it to Phi- 
lena’s door and I tugged it into her room, 
took the pretty ted apart, made it over 
again, and we got Philena settled at last. 
Please mention The R. N.- Y. to oar adver¬ 
tisers. 
When Baby was sick, we gave her Caatorla, 
When she was a Child, she cried for Caatorla, 
When she became Miss, she clung to Caatorla, 
When she had Children, she gave them Caatorla. 
It was nearly 11 o’clock before I was 
ready for bed. 
In the morning I made Graham gems and 
milk toast and poached eggs for Philen&’s 
breakfast, feeling sure that she couldn’t 
say that they weren’t fit for anybody to 
eat. She came into the dining room saying 
that she had scarcely slept; she never did 
in a strange place. She hardly felt like 
eating a mouthful, but she must have had 
what people call “ a coming appetite,” for 
she ate four slices of toast and three eggs 
before she had finished. She never ate 
Graham bread of any kind. 
After breakfast she had to have some of 
Johnson’s Arnica Liniment. We had none 
in the house, and it wasn’t kept at the 
store, so she asked Jeremiah if he wouldn’t 
go to town for it. Fortunately Jeremiah 
had planned to go there on business, and 
could bring her the liniment without 
trouble. As he started off, she called out 
that she thought she had taken cold, and 
wouldn’t he bring her a bottle of cod liver 
oil? Jeremiah assented, but muttered to 
himself: “I should think that if folks 
must have an apothecary’s shop they’d 
carry it with ’em.” 
We were kept on the run to buy or bor¬ 
row or fix something for Philena each one 
of the 10 days she stayed with us; besides, 
she couldn’t walk even to the nearest neigh¬ 
bor’s because there were no sidewalks, and 
the country roads were “so dirty,” and 
Jeremiah had to stop his work and take 
her with a team wherever she wanted to go. 
When her visit was ended and I had 
gathered up the bottles and boxes left in 
her room, and cleaned the spots of oil and 
liniment from the carpet, and Jeremiah 
had carried home the feather bed, I hardly 
felt that our old friendship had been re¬ 
newed. But when I wore my old suit to 
church the next Sunday morning, I was 
sure I hadn’t been paid for the sacrifice of 
the prospe tive new one. 
GERALDINE GERMANE. 
THE GIRLS’ SIDE OF ONE QUESTION. 
IRLS, have you read in many farm 
and home periodicals of the day, 
numerous articles making pleas for and 
giving advice to the boys ? and in these 
same periodicals did you notice also as 
many like articles for the girls ? 
Perhaps some timid but venturesome sis¬ 
ter or a stout-hearted brother, who has 
awakened to the fact that the homes are 
making our future citizens and that women 
make the homes, has dared to make from 
his or her standpoint a plea for the girls. 
But as they seem to be so lew, I would like 
from a girl’s standpoint to give a few facts 
from my own observation relative to our 
side of the question. Is the lack above 
noted because we. as girls, are more likely 
to be ignored and are we less cared for than 
the boys, even by the sterner sex ? Ah no ! 
when we see the many avenues of learning 
open and the newer roads to positions 
of trust that are being opened for us, we 
are thankful there are so many noble- 
hearted men who are willing to admit that 
the mental faculties of the girls are, if fully 
developed, equal to those of the boys, and 
who are also willing to help to open ways 
whereby we may develop those faculties. 
Another fact that led me to think we were 
not without importance even in the eyes of 
some men, was an article I saw, “Why 
Boys Leave the Farm,” in which the writer 
attributed It to the girls first leaving to 
seek more profitable employment and the 
boys following, not caring to stay where 
the girls are not. 
Girls, if they are so willing to follow 
where we lead, ought we not be very care¬ 
ful in regard to the ways we lead them ? 
But is this always the cause ? And may 
there not be a reason also for the girls first 
leaving the farm ? Taking our own com¬ 
munity for an example—and I believe it to 
be as good as the majority of rural ones—I 
think I see the girls’ reason for leaving. 
Looking at the farmers’ sons residing in 
this neighborhood, how many do I find with 
whom the daughters of the same neighbor¬ 
hood would care to link their destinies ? 
Very few ; it may not be wholly the boys’ 
fault, (for if allowed too much freedom, 
there are many attractions to lead boys 
away from the straight path, that we girls 
have not to encounter) but it is nevertheless 
the fact. 
Is It any wonder, then, that when oppor¬ 
tunities are opened to us, we are ready to 
avail ourselves of such as will enable us to 
lead an independent life, an ideal already 
so dear to the hearts of many of us ? 
Are our petty cares and trials forgotten ? 
I think not; but because we generally com¬ 
plain less—is it not so ?—than the boys, 
they are overlooked. But we are glad that 
though our home cares may be overlooked, 
those leading to the attainments of the pro¬ 
fessions are not. Let us not be discour¬ 
aged ; who knows but by improving our 
abilities we may in time be able to work 
an evolution among these boys! Let us, 
as we go on striving to gain our hearts’ 
ambition in the round of life, not neglect to 
try to lead them into paths that will lift 
them up morally, physically and intellec¬ 
tually. Then, in time, if desired, we will 
not be afraid to link our lives with theirs, 
and make for them homes that will help 
them to be citizens who will do their duty 
towards “ God and home and native land.” 
New York. MELINDA. 
RIP VAN WINKLE’S IRONING. 
WENTY years is a long time, whether 
“sleeping or waking,” for Mrs. 
Johnson to break friendship with a news¬ 
paper. It is almost a wonder that she 
recognized the voice of her old acquaint¬ 
ance after the various changes that usually 
characterize a score of fleeting years. 
Allowing the supposition that she was 
sleeping, perhaps she would have awakened 
sooner if the sheets had been Ironed ; or 
has it taken the astute lady 20 years to solve 
the problem of ironed or unironed clothes ? 
But I beg pardon, the lady says she was 
not sleeping. Perhaps she will be more 
sure about that and the little trouble that— 
unlike a dream—came afterwards when 
fully acclimated. Nothing like getting 
used to new scenes and new surroundings. 
The remarks about ironing, to which she 
refers, were made on the supposition of the 
presence of servants. It is a poor plan to let 
them slight. A new girl once told me that 
her mistress did not allow her to iron any 
part of the master’s shirt except the bosom ; 
nor did she let her wash her baking tins. 
If this is allowed, servants might possibly 
reach the point of neglecting to iron the 
skirt of your white wrapper, and the hem 
of your cambric handkerchief, or might 
even iron just the fringe of your damask 
table cloth. When one presides over her 
own ironing table slighting is allowable at 
times, as the circumstances demand, but as 
an established rule for good housekeeping 
I do not hesitate to aver that ironed sheets 
should be preferred to unironed. 
They must be hung smoothly on the line, 
but taking them from the line is far more 
important. Do not pull them off, but fold 
one half over the other, then carefully p’ace 
the four corners together, and by these and 
the center shake them in place, fold again, 
and again. Iron four double, seeing to it 
that the broad hem at the top is very 
smooth. This portion is so much pleas¬ 
anter if well ironed, as it comes in contact 
with the face. I now refer, of course to 
nice, bleached linen or cotton sheetings. 
Besides this being a mark of good house¬ 
keeping, the smooth folds serve as a proof 
that this portion of the bed covering is 
clean. How is it possible to know this if it 
is unironed? Best to leave no loop hole for 
doubt. The guest will sleep sweeter if the 
fact is assured. SYLVIA GREY. 
Kings Co., N Y. 
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