790 
G7><?  RURAL.  NEW-YORKER 
May  20.  191G. 
There  Are  More  Ways  Than  One 
Six  women  in  a  country  neighborhood 
Piet,  on  the  occasion  of  the  birthday  of 
one  of  thorn,  and  fell  to  chatting  over  the 
teacups  about  their  grievances  in  not 
having  pretty  lawns,  and  flower  beds. 
Mrs.  Reynolds,  a  sweet-faced,  meek-np- 
pearing  little  woman,  who  had  just; 
enough  red  hi  her  hair  to  serve  ns  a  dan¬ 
ger  signal  to  the  wise,  and  who  was 
known  to  have  a  husband  who  highly  en¬ 
joyed  her  dainty  dishes,  said  : 
“I  should  love  to  live  in  the  country,  if 
it  were  not  for  the  lack  of  greenery  or 
flowers  about  the  house.  Actually,  there 
is  not  enough  green  grass  anywhere  in 
my  yard  to  bleach  a  tablecloth.” 
“Why  don’t  you  got  it?”  inquired  Mrs. 
Blunt.  “Fred  was  always  bragging  about 
what  a  beautiful  home  his  girl  lived  in 
before  he  married  you ;  and  you  know 
you  said  you  believed  he  never  would 
haVC  proposed  if  it  hadn’t  been  for  sit¬ 
ting  iu  the  garden  in  the  moonlight,  when 
the  syringas  and  lilacs  made  him  lose  his 
head,  in  a  way,  with  their  perfume.  If 
he  expects  to  marry  off  those  three  girls 
of  yours,  he  had  better  begin  to  set  out 
syringas  and  lilacs.  I  tell  you  ‘setting’ 
makes  a  lot  of  difference  ill  the  attractive¬ 
ness  of  a  girl.  Same  as  the  frame  of  a 
picture  sets  it.  off,  if  it  is  well  chosen. 
But  land !  I  oughtn’t  to  preach,  for 
there’s  Silas  Blunt,  that  never  would 
have  had  one  dollar  to  pile  on  another, 
if  it  hadn’t  been  for  me  working  like  a 
horse  for  twenty  years — helping  to  milk, 
raking  hay,  feeding  calves,  and  a  hundred 
other  out-of-doors  jobs  besides-  all  my 
housework  and  washing.  And  many’s  the 
night  I've  sat  up  and  mended  his  old 
worn-out  things,  so  as  to  save  going  in 
debt — and  now  I  am  just  as  far  from  hav¬ 
ing  a  decent  yard  as  I  ever  was.  I  give 
him  a  good  tongue-lashing  every  year,  hut 
lie’s  got  so  used  to  it  he  doesn’t  even  flick 
an  ear  any  more.” 
Silas  Blunt  was  known  to  he  a  very 
‘near’  man,  who  did  not  expend  more  than 
he  was  obliged  to.  and  five  glances  of  sym¬ 
pathy  were  directed  toward  Mrs.  Blunt. 
Mrs.  Baring,  a  rather  fretful,  sickly  look¬ 
ing  woman,  who  complained  a  good  deal, 
ate  a  good  deal,  and  who  took  very  little 
physical  exercise,  snid.  in  her  usual  semi- 
wliiniug  tones : 
“Well.  Tom  Baring  is  always  and  for¬ 
ever  nagging  at  me,  to  go  out  and  work 
in  the  garden.  Fie  says  it  will  do  me  good 
to  work  out  of  doors,  and  all  that:  and 
says  he’s  sick  of  trying  to  make  decent 
grounds,  because  T  won’t  do  anything  to 
care  for  them.” 
Here  a  restless,  black-eyed,  nervous- 
looking  little  woman,  burst  impetuously 
into  the  conversation  with  a  flow  of  words 
which  was  guiltless  of  pauses: 
“My  goodness  gracious,  Mrs.  Baring,  if 
I  had  Tom  Baring  for  a  husband,  my 
yard  would  be  one  bower  of  beauty,  be¬ 
lieve  me !  Guess  if  you’d  lived  with  Jud 
Perkins  fifteen  years,  you’d  know  what 
patience  meant!  Why.  that  man — he’s 
as  good  as  gold — hut  say,  the  way  he  can 
slip  into  the  house,  and  into  his  slippers 
and  a  Morris  chair  and  a  farm  bulletin 
or  a  magazine — why.  say,  he  takes 
eighteen  periodicals,  and  you  know  what 
that  must  cost!  And  the  yard  fairly 
shrieking  to  be  cleaned  up,  and  I  put  pans 
of  ashes  and  pails  of  potato  and  apple 
peelings  where  he’d  break  his  neck  if  he 
didn’t  step  over  them — so  he'll  take  them 
out  as  he  goes — for  the  yard  is  so  muddy, 
I  can’t  go  out  with  them — and  would  you 
believe  it,  that  man  steps  right  over  them, 
day  after  day,  and  he  just  drops  things 
where  he  had  them  last,  and  he  leaves  the 
farm  machinery  all  over  the  yard,  and  he 
never  picks  up  the  trash  after  he  gets 
through  tinkering  something  up,  and  say, 
honest,  I  sometimes  think  I’d  rather  live 
with  a  fiend  that  was  neat,  than  with  an 
angel  that  was  slouchy !  And  he  always 
says  he  hasn’t  time.  And  the  more  men 
he  gets  for  me  to  slave  my  life  out  cook¬ 
ing  for,  the  less  time  he  has  to  clean  up- — 
says  he  doesn’t  want  them  to  stop 
Spring’s  work !” 
Out  of  breath,  a  sparkle  in  her  eyes, 
and  a  spot  of  red  iu  either  cheek.  Mrs. 
Baring  looked  to  be  near  to  tears.  An¬ 
other  sympathetic  glance  went  about. 
The  Perkins  place  certainly  did  look 
“slouchy.” 
“What’s  the  use  of  kicking?” 
This  came  from  a  quiet  little  woman  in 
the  corner.  “You  cau’t  change  ’em. 
Henry,  he  won’t  do  nothin’  around  the 
place,  nor  much  of  anything  else  neither. 
I’ve  raised  six  children,  and  many  a 
night  I’ve  sat  up  and  washed  their 
clothes,  an’  got  up  in  the  morning  and 
ironed  ’em,  so  \st  they’d  be  clean  when 
they  went  to  school,  an’  I’ve  worked  out 
by  the  day  more’n  a  thousand  days.  I  ex¬ 
pect.  an*  the  money  goes  in,  for  there’s 
always  something  needed,  air  when  the 
children  got  big.  they’d  come  home  Sun¬ 
days  with  their  friends,  an'  Somebody  has 
to  cook  for  them,  and  some  one  has  to 
pay  the  grocery  hill,  an'  I  don't  want  to 
be  mean  or  stingy,  an’  so  it  comes  on  me 
a  lot.  And  then  some  of  ’em  got  married, 
an’  whenever  there’s  a  new  baby,  or  an 
extra  day’s  work,  it’s  'Mother’  here,  an’ 
‘Mother’  there.  But  what  hurts  me  the 
worst,  is  Henry's  mother.  She’s  so  old, 
an’  she  always  was  an  awful  worker,  an’ 
as  good  as  gold,  an’  she's  crazy  for  flow¬ 
ers,  an’  the  front  yard's  so  hillock.v  an’ 
stony,  we  can't  dig  it.  an’  Henry  won’t 
dig  out  a  few  stones,  an’  fill  the  hole  with 
rich  dirt,  go’s  Mother  can  have  a  few 
posies,  an’  she  loves  ’em  so !  she  efied 
When  Gladys  brought  her  a  bunch  of  vio¬ 
lets  the  other  May.  I'm  so  sorry  for  her. 
I  forget  to  be  sorry  for  myself.  I’d  nx 
her  a  garden  myself,  but  I’m  so  tired 
when  I  get  homo  after  a  day’s  work,  that 
it’s  all  I  can  do  to  feed  the  hogs,  and 
milk  the  cow,  and  do  up  the  work,  an’ 
get  things  ready  for  breakfast.” 
A  silence  fell  on  the  company.  Mrs. 
Thomas's  case  was  well  known  to  be  a 
hard  one,  even  among  farmers’  wives,  who 
are  inured  to  much  that  a  city  woman 
would  consider  unbearable. 
“How  did  you  manage  it,  Mrs.  Hum¬ 
mel?”  asked  one  of  the  women. 
Mrs.  Hummel  gazed  reflectively  about 
her — at  the  miniature  forest  of  fruit 
trees,  at  thp  twining  grapevines,  at  the 
orderly  rows  of  flourishing  vegetables,  the 
rich  dark  mould  of  her  garden,  at  the 
clump  of  lilies  of  the  valley,  about  the 
trunk  of  the  old  elm  tree,  at  the  fragrant 
garden,  sending  forth  its  wealth  of  per¬ 
fume  from  a  thousand  nodding  blossoms, 
over  which  the  bees  and  butterflies  were 
hovering — and  then  she  sighed. 
“I  earned  it,”  she  said.  “I  may  say 
that  the  first  step,  and  the  most  impor¬ 
tant  one,  was  iu  my  mind.  T  concluded 
it  was  my  right  to  have  these  things,  and 
that  if  I  respected  myself  so  little  as  to 
go  without  them,  I  deserved  to  witness 
daily  the  mute  reminder  of  my  own  weak¬ 
ness.” 
“How  did  you  do  it?  Tell  us  how !” 
clamored  the  women. 
“No  one  can  he  told  just  how  to  ac¬ 
complish  this  ‘training  of  self’  as  I  call 
it.  for  each  of  ns  is  weak  in  a  different 
place.  But  whenever  we  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  certain  things  must  be 
done,  and  that  their  non-existence  argues 
the  non-existence  of  grit  iu  ourselves,  we 
shall  begin  to  enter  into  our  rightful 
kingdom.  I  will  let  you  women  judge 
for  each  other.  I  will  go  into  the  house 
and  write  a  line  of  advice  for  each  of 
you,  which  I  will  place,  each  one,  iu  a 
little  envelope.  Each  one  of  you,  iu  her 
turn,  draws  an  envelope,  and  reads  aloud 
the  contents.  Then  the  five  of  you  may 
decide  to  which  one  it  belongs.” 
After  an  absence  of  10  or  15  minutes, 
she  returned  with  the  envelopes,  which 
she  placed  on  a  table.  Each  woman  took 
one.  Mrs.  Reynolds,  she  of  the  sweet 
face  and  reddish  hair,  read  first,  as  she 
had  been  the  first  one  to  speak. 
“Cease  boarding  your  children  and 
their  friends,  and  cooking  for  them  on 
your  only  day  of  rest.  The  children  are 
earning  money.  Bet  them  pay  for  the  en¬ 
tertainment  of  their  guests,  and  let  them 
do  the  work  connected  therewith.  Since 
your  married  children  repay  you  neither 
in  work  nor  money,  let  them  hire  some 
one  to  help  them  out.  If  they  offer  to 
exchange  work  with  you,  let  them  do 
your  work  first.  Do  not  put  the  money 
you  earn  into  the  general  fund.  Then, 
if  you  wish,  you  enu  use  it  to  hire 
Grandma’s  garden  made.” 
There  was  no  doubt  as  to  whom  this 
advice  belonged,  and  the  same  was 
handed  to  Mrs.  Thomas,  with  the  hearty 
concurrence  of  the  four. 
Mrs.  Blunt  drew  the  paper  out  from 
her  envelope,  and  read  the  following: 
“Do  not  try  to  make  a  landscape  gar¬ 
dener  out  of  a  man  of  scieuee,  who  loves 
research  work.  Advertise  for  an  ambi¬ 
tious.  industrious  young  fellow  whose  pa¬ 
rents  wish  him  to  he  tutored,  in  order  to 
pass  certain  examinations.,  and  who  also 
desire  open  air  and  country  life  for  him 
for  three  months — oversee  hitu.  anil  he 
will  put  your  grounds  in  order  for  you  to 
pay  for  his  instruction  from  the  scientific 
gentleman,  and  he  will  pay  you  enough 
besides,  for  bis  board,  to  enable  you  to 
hire  some  expert  help,  and  buy  some 
Another  Form  of  Moral  Suasion 
tools.  Do  not  feed  the  young  fellow  elab¬ 
orately.  He  gets  enough  of  that  in  the 
city.” 
This  was,  of  course,  handed  to  Mrs. 
rerkins.  , 
Mrs.  Baring  next  read  her  line. 
“Get  out  and  work  in  the  garden  your¬ 
self,  just  as  your  husband  suggests.  It 
will  make  a  new  woman  of  you,  delight 
him,  and  make  your  grounds  beautiful. 
He  only  needs  encouragement.” 
A  general  laugh  followed  this,  and  a 
chorus  of  “You've  got  yours!"  “Needn’t 
pass  that  on !”  etc. 
Mrs.  Thomas  then  read :  “He  has 
plenty  of  money,  fully  one-half  of  which, 
if  not  more,  is  morally  yours.  Cease 
economizing.  Get  a  woman  iu  the  kitchen. 
Never  mind  if  she  does  make  the  money 
fly.  Get  yourself  some  good  clothes.  Get 
some  good  roan,  who  understands  his  bus¬ 
iness  to  do  what  yon  want  done.  Get  the 
lawn  made  and  the  beds  arranged,  and 
then  get  out  and  keep  them  iu  order 
yourself.  Get  Helen  Albee’s  book  on 
‘Hardy  Plants  for  Cottage  Gardens.’  and 
learn  how  she,  a  slender  woman,  made  her 
own  garden,  even  to  digging  out  the 
stones.  But  she  had  help  iu  the  house. 
Don't  forget  that!” 
There  was  a  little  doubt  as  to  whether 
this  belonged  to  Mrs.  Blunt  or  Mrs.  Rey¬ 
nolds.  until  it  was  remembered  that  Rey¬ 
nolds  had  not  much  money. 
There  now  being  but  one  left,  it  must 
belong  to  Mrs.  Reynolds,  and  it  was 
handed  to  her  with  the  demand  that  she 
read  it  aloud,  which  she  did. 
“Fred  thinks  a  lot  of  his  stomach.  Feed 
him  on  corn  bread  and  beans — good 
wholesome,  nourishing  food,  that  is,  and 
every  time  he  wants  doughnuts  or  a 
piece  of  lemon  pie.  tell  him  that  that  is 
extra  work,  but  that  you  will  gladly  ex¬ 
change  work  with  him." 
“Good !  I'll  do  it  ”  as  a  slanting  ray 
of  the  setting  sun  brought  out  the  glint  of 
red  iu  her  hair — and  was  it  the  sun,  or 
was  there  a  dangerous  spark  iu  her  blue 
eye? 
The  ladies  agreed  to  report  progress  at 
their  next  birthday  meeting  at  the  house 
of  Mrs.  Hummel. 
“One  thing  we  want  to  know  before  we 
leave.”  said  Mrs.  Reynolds.  “Which  one 
of  the  ways  you  have  given  us  did  you 
try?” 
The  women  hung  npon  the  expected  an¬ 
swer.  for  it  was  well  known  that  Hummel 
domineered  over  every  one  except  his 
wife.  But  Jhere  was  no  answer. 
“Ret  she  tried  all  of  them  !”  said  one. 
“Perhaps,”  replied  the  hostess,  with  an 
inscrutable  smile. 
As  she  bade  her  guests  good  bye,  she 
stood  at  the  gate.  The  moon  was  just 
visible,  a  slender  silver  crescent.  The 
birds  twittered  slepily  iu  their  nests,  and 
the  perfume  from  the  honeysuckle, 
mingled  with  that  of  countless  odorous 
blossoms  almost  overpowering. 
Bhe  walked  over  to  a  grand  old  oak, 
and  embracing  it,  leaned  her  head  against 
its  shaggy  bark. 
“You  dear  old  tree  You  and  I  know 
how  it  was  done,  don’t  we?  Shall  I  ever 
forget  that  dreary  March  day,  when  I 
came  from  the  Smith  a  bride,  and  first 
saw  this  place,  then  so  dismal  and  bar¬ 
ren?  You  were  the  only  thing  that 
seemed  like  home.  You  remember  those 
nights  when  I  used  to  come  out  here  and 
cry  out  my  despair  against  your  strong 
body.  And  I  always  felt  uplifted  and 
strengthened,  someway.  I  always  thought 
of  how  bravely  you  had  withstood  every 
storm,  and  had  come  out  grand  at  last, 
and  it  was  you  who  encouraged  me  the 
night  I  came  out  prepared  to  leave  him  if 
he  would  not  consent  to  making  me  a 
beautiful  environment.  Did  you  miss  me 
when  I  went,  dear  old  tree?  For  I 
missed  you ! 
“But  it  was  only  a  year,  and  when  I 
came  back,  the  preparations  were  already 
begun.  Anil  now  we  shall  never  be  sep¬ 
arated  again,  for  there  is  one  thing  sure — 
although  it  takes  a  life  and  death  strug¬ 
gle  to  get  Herrmann  to  do  anything,  it  is 
just  as  hard  for  him  to  stop  it.  What  I 
have  to  look  out  for  now  is  that  he 
doesn’t  go  too  far,  and  make  it  a  show 
place.  I  love  it  just  as  it  is.  And  you 
helped,  you  dear  old  thing!” 
EIXEX  DE  GRAFF. 
Outside  Fly-trap 
I  secured  a  box  at  the  store  for  five 
cents  with  these  dimensions :  20  inches 
long,  10  inches  wide,  and  12  inches  high. 
I  removed  the  boards  from  two  sides  and 
tacked  wire  screen  over  the  sides.  Then 
we  sawed  two  circular  holes  in  the  bot¬ 
tom.  seven  inches  in  diameter.  I  wrapped 
a  piece  of  wire  screen  in  the  shape  of  a 
funnel,  leaving  an  opening  small  enough 
for  one  fly  to  get  through,  sewed  the 
screen  together,  then  tacked  it  to  the  hot- 
20  IN 
The  Outside  Fly-trap 
tom  of  the  trap,  the  small  end  pointing 
upward,  as  seen  in  diagram.  Beneath  the 
trap  I  place  two  pans  with  this  bait : 
Small  pieces  of  light  bread  with  skim- 
milk  poured  over  them,  and  a  few  drops 
of  molasses  added.  You  will  be  surprised 
at  the  great  number  of  flies  caught  every 
season  with  this  simple  device,  and  every 
fly  that  is  caught  outside  will  have  no  op¬ 
portunity  to  pass  into  the  house  through 
the  open  screen  doors,  mrs.  p.  c.  hexes'. 
North  Carolina. 
