fflfflPi 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
SPRING. 
I come with breezes soft and warm. 
Sweet odors and cool showers: 
I come, and with my fairy wand 
Awaken all the flowers. 
With airy tread T touch the earth, 
And thaw the frozen river; 
1 breathe upon tho naked trees, 
And leaves bey in to quiver. 
I paint tho butterfly’s briyht wing-. 
And set the wild bees humming, 
I teach the young birds how to sing. 
To herald Flora's coining. 
Ou fleecy clouds in blustering Marcn, 
X enter earth’s dominions; 
Of silver dew and golden beams 
Are formed my floating pinions. 
When April’s laughing face appears 
Among my verdant bowers, 
All earth puts on ft gayer dress. 
As fly the rosy hours. 
Then, with her graceful, queenly air, 
The virgin May advances, 
And swelling buds expand in bloom 
Beneath her loving glances. 
When June's bright skies begin to flush, 
And fragrant, deep-dyed roses blush, 
On Zephyr’s wings I pass away, 
And to Queen Summer yield my sway. 
tiV. O. Picayune. 
®|jf .^tovn-tfdlrr. 
ONE DAY.” 
BY L. h. D. 
I, Katharine Mortimer, wife of Harry Mort¬ 
imer, was angry, to say the least. And had I not 
just cause for anger ? Sympathising reader. Judge. 
It was Tuesday morning. A large basket of 
clothes stood ready for Ironing. A pan of bread- 
sponge was rising on tho stove shelf. A Churn of 
cream stood in the pantry patiently awaiting a 
pair of hands to propel the dasher that would con¬ 
vert the cream Into butter. Numerous other du¬ 
ties, such as sweeping, dusting, cooking, washing 
dishes and the like, demanded attention, and 
there was no nun to give It but myself, assisted 
by Maquis, my wall Ing girl, aged eleven. Katie, 
my faithful girl, had lort early In the morning, to 
attend u sick mother who had sent for her. 
1 suppose there are numbers of housekeepers In 
the land that could do all this work, and more, 
too, and not call It much of a day’s work; hut ir 
so, I venture to say they have aot mischievous 
boys to attend to at tho same time. Tom, aged 
six, and IIAt, aged throe, were two of the best 
boys In the village; at any rate, my husband often 
said so, some of my neighbors told mo so, and I 
believed so myself until this day of trials cama. 
I brushed my hair, donned my swoeplng- 
cap and a large apron, and was ready to 
begin. Seizing the broom, 1 told Magqie to 
wash the dishes while I did the sweeping. 
We were getting along swimmingly when 
Tom came In to tell me that Hague had fall- / 
en Into the crock. T rushed to the rescue, A" 
and managed to fish Hallik out unharmed; U 
hut not bo the rresli linen suit, put ou him a ijj 
short time before. It. was all dripping with o 
muddled water. 1 marched him to the house ■'v 
and changed his clothes for a fresh suii, JU 
meantime gtvlug him a free lecture upon j|y 
disobedience; for lie had repeatedly been vw 
told not to play noai that creek. The sud- jv*: 
den bath roust have frightened him, for he 11 
promised to be a good boy and play In the m 
house. I ga ve him his blocks. He carried 
them Into the pantry where Maggie was, •V 
and amused himself with them. Iffl 
The morning was fast slipping away. It vjf 
was nine o’clock before I was ready to com- r'J 
mence Ironing. I had Ironed perhaps half |r% 
a dozen pieces, when Tom came In to get a 
string. It was hanging on a nail behind the r': 
stove. He did not ask me to get It, as he H 
should have done, bur, took a chair and tried K9 
to reach It, himself. He lust ills balance and a 
fell, upsetting the pan of sponge In tho fall, E* 
which turned bottom-side upwards on the 
floor, the dough running In all directions. I FI 
heard the crash, and took In tho whole sit- | | 
uatlon at a glanco. it was, indeed, provok- 
lng. My patience was deserting me; but I Vg 
could not repress a smile at the picture Tom Nj 
presented crawling out of the dripping Mi 
dough, But, no time was spent, In contem- US 
plating the scene. With a knife and spoon, (y 
the sticky dough was removed from the H 
floor. At any rate, I thought, my loss Is the Km 
ptg’sgaln. After cleaning up this mesa, I Eg 
washed my hands, and went back to my bf 
Ironing. 
I took out of the basket a white dress and pj 
looked at the clock. It was past ten. Surely, 
this could he Ironed in an hour. So I begau jg 
at a ruffle. And let me give a bit of advice 
just here:—If you are ever guilty of the 
crime of making a washable white dress, do ilg 
not under any circumstances, put upon It g 
more than one ruffle. I should advise none gl 
at all. It you have to Iron it yourself. As I S 
said before, I began at a ruffle and stopped ^ 
at a ruffle, having finished two of them as g 
the clock struck eleven. It would take me §| 
till twelve to finish the dross. This would = 
never do. My rule was always to have meals Le¬ 
on time, and I would not break It now, even 
If the work had to he done over. I hung It 
across the cloth es-bars and commenced the dinner. 
Maggie pared the potatoes. I cut the steak, 
ground the coffee, put, the corn on to boll, and 
commenced setting the tabic. In carrying the 
dishes from the cupboard to the table, I glanced 
out of the window and saw Harry coming up 
t.he walk with a couple of gentlemen. A terrible 
thought flashed through my brain. Could t hat 
thoughtless husband of mine ho bringing company 
home for dinner? I hoard 1dm take them Into the 
parlor and ask them to excuse him till ho found 
his wife; he *• did not see where she could be.” 1 
wondered If hr thought t could be in tho parlor 
all the time, with all that, work to do. 
Harry came out into the kllclion smiling and 
happy, and said: 
“Cassa, 1 have brought home for dinner my 
old college chums, Dean and Felton. You have 
often heard me speak of them, and as they have 
heard mo talk so much about my wire, they are 
anxious to make your acquaintance. So Just fix 
up a little, take off that apron, and come In to 
entertain them." 
And who Is to get tho dinner In the meantime ?" 
growled I. 
“ Can't Katie get. It?". 
“ You know, or ought to know as well as I do, 
“that Kate loft this morning.” 
“Oh, yes! so she did, I forgot about that. 
Well, I will explain to the boys how it is." 
And he went back t,o the parlor, leaving me In 
despair. 
I rushed to the cupboard where the cakes and 
pies were kept. Not a solitary pie greeted ray 
expectant eyes—nothing hut a crock of ginger 
cookies. “ Well, a corn-starch pudding Is quickly 
made,” 1 said, and soon had such a pudding set¬ 
ting in cups to cool. 
It lacked fifteen minutes of twelve o’clock. I 
took a plain and a knife and went down collar to 
cut the bread. The cover from the crock was re¬ 
moved, and notldug but the empty crock met my 
gaze! Could I have made a mistake and looked 
lu the wrong crock? No; tills was the bread 
crock, and It was empty! What should T do? 
Oh! what should I do? I would have sat down 
and had a good cry, but could not lake time. 
Whatever 1 did must be done quickly. I flew up 
stairs, told Maggie Hi run for her life t,o the 
baker’s and get a loaf of bread, and If she should 
happen to fall, she must not stop lo get up, but 
keep on going. I thought, by the look she gave 
tue as she started, she must have had an idea 
that I had lost my senses; hut I could not explain 
then. 
I thought I would spend tho interval In making 
myself a little more presentable at dinner. Going 
to my room, I looked in the glass, and had half a 
mind to leave tho dark wrapper on and wear It 
down to dinner, to mortify Harry. It would pay 
him Tor causing mo all tills trouble ; but it would 
mortify me as well. So l changed It for a light 
lnusllu, gave my hair an extra brush, and de¬ 
scended to the kitchen. 
Why did not Maggie eome? Tho dinner would 
be spoiled If not soon served. It was ten minutes 
past twelve o’clock when she made her appear¬ 
ance. I hurriedly sliced the bread, set the dinner 
upon the table, and then proceeded to the parlor 
and Invited tho gentlemen out. 
We were getting along nicely, and I was fast 
forgetting the trials of the morning, when Harry 
said: 
“ Gentlemen, take some bread. This Is none of 
the miserable bakers’ bread, but home-made. 1 
flatter myself my wire can make good bread. 
That terrible man! Why could he not eat, what, 
was set. before him and say nothing about It? 1 
was Just going to explain, when little Hague 
asked: 
“ Mamma, la zls ye bwoad what failed on the 
Ilo’?" 
Our visitors glanced nt, each other, Tom snick¬ 
ered, and I looked at Hal. Thai look said In 
plain words: “ Young gentleman, If I had you In 
the wood-shed for about five minutes, 1 think I 
could teach you that children at the table should 
be seen and not hoard." 
1 then explained to them the whole matter of, 
Bread tin the rise, 
Bread on the fall, 
And bread in the crock. 
Not at. all, at all, 
Hence the baker's bread. 
They ull laughed heartily at my description; 
but It. was not such a laughing matter to me. 
Soon after dinner the gentlemen went, down 
town, and l was loft to go ou with that ever¬ 
lasting Ironing. As soon as Maggie finished the 
dishes, 1 put her at the churning, telling her to 
call me when the butler came. The Ironing was 
Interrupted twice while Maogir wag churning. 
Once to tie u rag around Tom’s cut, finger, and 
again to look for H ague's lost. top. 
Maggie announced the arrival of butter. r pin¬ 
ned my sleeves above my elbows, pul, ou my large 
apron and went, to work. 
The but ter was hard and yellow, and I was con¬ 
gratulating myself upon the large quantity there 
was of it; but,, as 1 lifted the last ladiolul from 
the churn, a dark Object cattle up In It. 
A sickening reeling e une over me. Thoughts 
of dead rata and mice, dishcloths and stovecloths 
oaiiie Into my head. What was this dark mys¬ 
tery ? It proved to be. one of Hague’s old shoes. 
He had played it was a boat-he afterward told 
me-and when he left It, sailing on tho cream, he 
pul, the cover buck on the. churn, fearing a storm 
might arise and upset ids little boat. The naughty 
boy! I could have punished him then and there, 
If he had been In sight. 
Well 1 the butter had to go tho way of the spill¬ 
ed bread. “ What, a waste!’’ 1 groaned, and dark 
and gloomy visions of the “poor-house" stared 
me In the taco. These dismal thoughts were put 
to flight by the ringing of the door-hell, while 
Maggie had gone to the orchard for apples. There, 
was no ono but myself to answer the ring. Hast¬ 
ily unpinning my sleeves and taking off the large 
apron, 1 started for tho door, wondering as I went 
If this could bo the stylish Mrs. Walton coming 
I to call, and the house in such confusion. 
“ Pwease fordive ittle Hague—Naughty Boy.” 
Now at, the door, I would soon know the worst. 
Opening It, who but little Hague appeared to rny 
wondering eyes, laughing, as If he had done some¬ 
thing funny. Seizing him by tho arms, l gave him 
a sound shaking, and then went back Into the 
house, leaving him standing there, bis largo eyes 
filled with tears and bis bps quivering. 
I went directly to the glass and looked at my 
hair, feeling that, with all tills trouble, It surely 
must have turned white. But no. it was just, as 
blflck as ever, and I looked very natural, only 
cross—very cross. 
If Katie only would come back, I thought, how 
thankful I should bo; so l went, back to the Iron¬ 
ing. The dock was striking live as I finished the 
last piece. Thank gooddess ! It was done at last. 
It was with a feeling of relief that r put the Irons, 
Ironing-board, and bolder away In Hip closet. 
But I had no time for sitting down or resting. 
Supper must ho prepared. First, 1 put the bread 
to sponge lor the next day, made biscuit, amt re¬ 
membering “light suppers are constd rod tho 
most, healthy,” determined to have one. 
Six o'clock came, and with It, came Harry* f 
was too much out of humor to talk much at. t he 
tea-table, but. thought 1 would keep what l had to 
say for Harry's ears alone. I put the boys to bed 
early, set Maggie at washing the cflshes, and com 
inenood folding the clothes ready tor putting 
away. 
IIAna y sat down to read. Drawing a magazine 
from Ids pocket and tossing it to me, lie said: 
“ Cassa, hero Is your Peterson's. I know you 
must be anxious to look at. tUe fashions.” 
“ I have no time to look at fashions,” said I 
froezlngly. 
“ Then, perhaps you would like to have me read 
to you ?" 
“ I have no time to listen to reading ’'—glancing 
at, Harry as l said It. 
“Cassa, Tshould like very much to know what 
Is the (.rouble with you to-night ; " amt ho laid his 
paper down and looked cooly at, no. 
“ Well, sir,” l said, “ I will tell you ; ” and at 
once vela toil the mishaps nr the. day, finishing by 
saylug: “ Job's afflictions wore juatllulhlbg at all 
compared with mine.” 
That provoking man only sat and laughed at 
mo. As i said in the beginning, l was was angry; 
and 1 did what, I always do when wry angry I 
cried. 
Harry never could bear to see mo cry. ills 
arms wore around me In an Instant, and he was 
kissing away my tears and Baying: 
“ Hoar cassa, forgive me. Forgive mo for bring¬ 
ing thOBC boys homo for dinner; forgive me for 
all the bad tilings l ever have done; and torgivo 
me for laughing. Do, Cassa, forgive me. I con¬ 
fess that 1 am a hard-hearted wretch.” 
“Stop, sir," said 1. “ You shall not slander my 
husband In that way;" and I stopped his mouth 
with a kiss. 
“My poor, tired wife,” ho said, laying me. upon 
tho sofa. “ If Kate does not come back to-mor¬ 
row, I shall get you another girl.” 
Just, then some one tapped on the dining-room 
door. It was opened, and them stood Kate. 
1 was so glut! to see her that I kissed her. I 
knew now that my t roubles were at. an end. 
Her mother was better, and did not need her 
any longer. 1 was happy once more, tliluk- 
lng of the quiet, peaceful days, with Katie 
|hj back again. 
I I Just lllOn I heard the pattering of lltllo 
Li 11 feet In the hall. Tho door opened, and there 
liil BtOOd IIAGGIE. 
Mill “ mumm!l Please tordlv eher lttlo 
K Hague, naughty boy?" ho asked. 
I snatched the little “ QarUwy” up In my 
'i arms and coveted his dimpled taco with 
Sal ^fa¬ 
ir,I « •* Yes," l said, “ mamma forgives her little 
Ijj! boy freely. Ho bad a cross mamma to-day.” 
|f|M “ Pwetly cwohh,” said Hague. 
| jra Ills father laughed. 
|r I j 1 took my pet back to bed. He Insisted 
upon saying bis prayers again, and kneeling 
jj'Sfj down 1m said: 
I! jig “ Donn bwesa Halgie— make him a dooder 
(i boy; and Tommy and papa and mamma 
I I 1 f too. And don't let her be p we tty cwoss any 
!||' more.” 
| | “ Amen," said I. 
Before retiring that night, I made some 
good resolutions, which I hope in the future 
I shall bo able to live up to. 
™jl In the first place— 
tev.M (1) I am resolved to keep cool at all times 
lHI —If t can. 
ij Ilii ( 2 ) 1 am resolved to have an arrangement 
for fastening the cover on the churn. 
,; uil (iq f am resolved to have a more secure 
® place for setting bread to rise, 
ylj] (4) 1 am resolved not. to put “that white 
dress” Into the wash ortener than once a 
p«| month, and lastly— 
I arn resolved to try and hold rny temper, 
Wfk' happen what will; and not get “pwetty 
ifja owosb” any more. 
THE BEAKEMAH'S STOEY. 
“ Yes, sir,” said tho brakeman, as he stood 
by the stove warming tils numbed hands, 
after coming In from braking. “ l’eople 
think, as tlmy sit here in t-hclr warm seats 
and ouly hear us call out the different sta¬ 
tions, that, we have a nice, soft, easy time. 
But we know bettor. Imagine yourself out 
on a Hat. car alt night with tho Bnow dashing 
Into your face, your hands on a cold Iron 
brake, and think if that's easy; or, up on 
top of a freight car, running along, the wind 
cutting like a knife, dark as pitch, and 
