SEPT.44 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
fitaqr HUsteUattjr, 
THEN, NOW AND HEREAFTER. 
MARGARET B, HARVEY. 
I. 
Oh, precious heart! 
Thou knewest when my spirit drooped in pain, 
And gently thou didst bid me hope strain. 
My wearied soul. 
Like gladdened lark, with Budden shrill, did rise 
And soar to the blue heaven of thine eyes. 
Their wondrous light 
Seemed like the gold through azure poured at morn,— 
And where the singer's lost, the song is born. 
And soft the strain, 
Or ringing Jubilant, the humble bird 
Cares only that the skies and Bun have heard. 
II. 
Long years have passed. 
And now my soul, like wounded lark, doth soar 
To warm blue skies and golden sun no more. 
Her notes are hushed, 
And by her ruined nest, mid leaves and mold, 
Alone she cowers in the damp and cold. 
But still a song 
Is faintly quivering, though her voiee is dumb. 
And some glad day a flood of Joy will come. 
For onoe again. 
Like glsddeued lark, my longing soul shall rise 
And soar to the blue heaven of thine eyes. 
January 20th. 1878. 
—-»■» ■ » - 
HOW TO TREAT PLANTS FOR WINTER 
DECORATION. 
JULIES J. HEINRICH. 
Supposing that some plants have been procured 
for winter decorallou ot the room or window, as 
recommended In Rural or Aug. loth, the next 
t.hlug to be done Is to grow lUetn in propersbape, 
and to prevent them from blooming, which is 
done In the following way: 
They will need shifting or repotting from time 
to time, which can be Judged by simply knocking 
them out of the pot and seeing It the roots are all 
matted together between the pot and the ball of 
soli; if they are, they require repotting; If not, 
wait a Uttle longer. (By the term •• knocking 
out is not meant to break the pot all to pieces, 
as some have supposed, but simply to separate 
the pot from the ball of earth, which Is done by 
taking bold or the pot with the right hand and 
spreading the lingers of the left hand over the 
surface of the soU In the pot, and allowing the 
plant to rest between the middle and first finger. 
Now invert pot and plant so that the latter bangs 
head down; give a gentle rap or two on the rim 
of the pot on the edge of some table or bench so 
as not to strike the plant, and it will slide out 
nicely Into the left hand.) 
In repotting, first put a handful or so of soli In 
the bottom of the new pot so as to get the top of 
the ball of earth just one Inch lower than the 
upper edge of the pot; this will allow plenty of 
room for watering. Set the ball In the center or 
the pot and fill all around with fresh, rich sou; 
press well down with both thumbs and give 
gentle rap on the bench to make the surface pei 
fectly level. Then water 
well. If the roots are \ 
very much matted, loos- 
en some or the soli from 
the top or the ball, outer 
edge first, and then re¬ 
pot. Always be careful 
to set the plant In the 
center aud have It rest 
perfectly straight, as 
nothiug looks worse 
than to see a fine plant 
spoilt by leaning to one side. 
Fig. 5. 
The best pots to grow plants In are the com¬ 
mon Clay pots (Fig. 5). After yearsot trial t have 
found plants to do better In them than In any¬ 
thing else, for tna following reasons: If you 
have had plants, you will notice that the sides of 
the clay pots are moist and always covered with 
a greenish, slimy substance ; and the cause of 
this is that me surplus water finds at the sides or 
the pot the quickest outlet, being porous. Water 
will sink to the bottom ot the pot when there ts 
too much for the sides, and run into the saucer. 
If one Is underneath to catch It. If this surplus 
water is allowed to stand In the pot It will cause 
the soil to become sour, and the roots will rot 
and finally the plant perishes. It can therefore 
readily be seen that the side-drainage is of as 
much consequence as that in the bottom, and 
for this reason glazed or painted pots will be 
found inferior to the clay pots, as all the pores 
they have in t he sides are closed up with paint, 
etc. i know quite well that they have holes m 
the bottom, but llio millions of Uttle holes In the 
sides arc not there. Fancy pots may ho used to 
advantage In this way only : For those wishing 
to raise plants In summer Tor winter’s use and 
having no garden, they can grow them In the win¬ 
dow, but they must not be allowed to bloom. 
I’ot the piaut in clay pots that may be fitted Into 
the fancy oues. Pot and set them In the window. 
In this way the clay pot la hidden and the drain¬ 
age is not, Interfered wtth. Those having no fancy 
pots anu wishing to hide tile elav, can ns<* «. pot- 
cover (Fig. q). u will hide 
the pot and give It a very 
neat and ornamental ap¬ 
pearance without Interfer¬ 
ing with the side drainage. 
These covers are made of 
Black-walnut or White- 
wood painted green, red, 
Wue, yellow, etc. Some 
are also gilded like picture- _.nu. ». 
Lames, and others have gut and green bars* 
They can bo obtained any size from four to eight 
Inches high, and from $1 to $7 per doz. 
The arrangement shown In Fig. T can he used 
on the outside of a window In summer, or inside 
In winter. It Is simply awooden board resting on 
two Iron brackets with a Black-walnut pot-fence 
around it: it, can be bought to fit. any window. A, 
Is an extension Ivy trellis; B, is a pot trellis for 
any kind of climbing plants, and E, is the pot 
cover already spoken of. 
Pruning will be required a3 the growth of the 
plants progresses, more or less. If the plant is 
too tall or spindling, aud you wish It dwarf or 
bushy, out the crown or center stalk off, as shown 
In Fig. 8, A, as low down as Is desired. This will 
force the plant to start or send out new branches 
from the stdea of the old stalk B.B.B.B. If, on the 
contrary, you wish It taller, cut the lower 
branches off at B.B.B.B., Fig. 8, and not at A.; 
this will force It, up. Cut away all dead or drted 
branches, that may by accident be broken off, 
and see that all the withered yellow leases 
are removed. By cutting or pruning off aU the 
buds as fast as they appear they will be pre¬ 
vented from blooming now, and will bloom lu 
winter with more profusion. If allowed to bloom 
now they will not bloom In winter. -Stop cutting 
off the buds about three weeks before bloom is 
desired. Those raising plants from seed will 
have little other care but, watering, tor three 
weeks to come; but see that they do not want for 
that, else one’s labor will be of little avail.—To be 
continued. 
-♦ ♦ »- 
TWO IMPOETANT PAPEES. 
“ I don’t know what I sball.dew with that 'ere 
boy,” said Farmer Long to his wife, as they sat 
by the fire, that, winter morning. “He’s more 
harum-skarum than that State’s reform-school 
boy was.” 
"Well, father, have patience with him for 
the sake of his folks. I think there’s some¬ 
thing In Jim that will surprise you, one of these 
days.” 
“ I dunno whether he’ll surprise me enny 
more’n he has or not. Last spring he made 
b’leve he kuowed all ’bout blllng down sap, ’nd 
surprised cue by buruln the bottom nv the sap- 
pan eout, ’nd settln’ the sap-house on fire. Last 
summer lie broke more tools lu hayin’ time than 
all the rest uv us together. And dear me! Yeou’d 
oner seen him dig pertaters last fail! ru venter 
he cut every third one In tew—struck at 'em cz 
ef he was spilt,Mu' rock-maple logs. ’Nd 
neow he’s broke my best three-ttned pltch- 
r rk, some way, a feedlu’ tbe catte). lie's 
on’y lfiy’rold. Ef he doos this In the gtecn 
tree, what in naier ’ll he do lu the dry 7” 
After these remarks about tbe boy i,e 
had taken to keep until he was of age, 
the farmer started for the barn. He was 
bending over the great meal-chest. Just lu- 
slde the barn door as a tandem team wus 
turning around the corner or the barn. 
This team consisted of a wild yearling steer 
and the boy, Jim Fowler. The " team ” was 
on the '• dead ” run. The youth had hold ot 
the steer's tall with his left baud, and held 
aloft a mllklng-stool in hla right, 
Mr. Long was unaware of danger; and 
when something struck him, and Immedi¬ 
ately he found hlinself on his back in the 
meal-chest,, his first thought, wus of an 
earthquake or a tornado or other dread 
outbreak ol forces. He emerged from the 
chest Just In time to see his Ume-backed 
steer pass on into the stable and Jim 
Fowler arise half stunned from tbe floor. 
“Yeou young scamp!” he thundered, 
" Yeou’ll murder somebody yet^-er—er I 
shall, If yeou don't stop yer dumbed work." 
The hoy did not laugh at the mlller-ltke 
appearance of the man. His own face was 
quite as white as the farmer’s as he said: 
*' I’m awful sorry, Mr. Long." 
14 1 dunno whether yer be er not,” replied 
the latter. “ But I’ll tell yer ueou ’nd here, 
Jim Fowler, what’s what. When yer father 
died yeou hadenT a relative left ” 
“No, sir, they want none left," broke 
in the youth ; and the tears ailed his eyes. 
“ I promised him a little afore he died. I’d 
take care on ye until yeou was old enough 
ter take care uv ya’self; *nd do well by ye— 
give ye a common school education ’ud so 
on. ’Nd I mean ter dew It U yer conduct 
don-t become onbarable. But yeou must 
be more stlddy ’nd man-like ’nd not plague 
me ter death by yer recklessness. D’ye 
bear?” 
" Yes, I’m goto to try, Mr. Long.” 
“ That’s the sorter talk. I want ye ter go 
ter school 'an git ter be ez smart ez Jennie is, 
ef ye can. Yeou er tew years older’nshels nd 
y’alnt nowhere side her.” 
“ I know It, 1 alnt nowhere side by her.” 
Jennie, the fanner’s daughter, was a bright 
girl: and as pretty as a pink. Jim did not won¬ 
der that her father and mother were proud of 
her; or that they felt there was a vast differ¬ 
ence between him and her. He thought there 
was himself; and he believed she did, for one 
day of the last summer, when he stumbled onto 
her flower-bed, she spoke sharply at him and, 
If he had not misunderstood her, called him a 
“ beggar.” 
He was careless aud stupid; If she had said as 
much, he would have thought It Justifiable under 
tbe circumstances. But for her to speak In that 
way—as If his misfortune was his fault—made 
him almost hate her. He did not answer baek, 
but the look he gave her kept her from ever re¬ 
peating the taunt; and also from forgetting that 
she had once made It, 
Yet he continued to be the same careless 
“Jim” up to this winter morning. But when 
Mr. Long had administered his reproof and re¬ 
turned to the house to brush the meal from hla 
clothes, the youth fell Into a profound medita¬ 
tion, out of which he came with this ejacula¬ 
tion: 
“ I’ll do It 1” 
When the next term of school began, there 
were t.wo scholars from Farmer Long’s. 
Jennie and Jim. 
They went together; but separated when they 
got, there, for Jennie was in a higher department 
than Ji n could enter. This was the first term 
the latter had ever begun with a determination 
to learn. That he was now so determined Is 
proved by tbe answer he gave to his teacher on 
the first day of school, when she asked him, 
among other things, what, he wanted to do; It 
wus this: “ 1 want ter git ter know ez much ez 
Jennie Long does.” 
How did he come out ? Well, he went to school 
every term for three years. He studied even¬ 
ings, and all the time when not at work, during 
vacations. By Incessant devotion to his books 
through those three years, he was able to master 
all the text-books used In that Institution. For 
the last two terms of his course, he was a mem¬ 
ber or Jennie's classes. He graduated when she 
dlcl; and, la most ol their Joint studies, was 
marked several points above her. 
How did Jim think ue came out? Going home 
with Jennie that last day, alter school had 
closed, he repeated the words Mi-. Long had 
spoken three years before: “Y’alnt nowhere 
sldeuv her;” aud thought, they were truer now 
than ever. 
Had the •' want ter git ter know ” with which 
he began, given place to a “ want" less likely to 
be satisfied ? 
If Jennie had been aware that her own views 
concerning the result of their rivalry—if It was 
such—coincided with Jim’s, she probably would 
not have expressed herseH as she did to her 
mother, that evening, when they two were alone. 
“ I suppose," said she, “ he thinks he’s done a 
wonderrul thing; hut I don’t. If I uad studied 
and studied and studied as he has, 1 should have 
been rar ahead ot the great—great—giant. But 
of course I don't care a fig about it, mamma.” 
Whether Jennie’s remarks Indicated a happy 
frame of mind or not, might be a question. But 
without question she used a very happy word 
when she spoke of Jim as a giant, for ne was a 
mighty youth. Jennie was really petite. She 
knew It; but. it did not trouble her that those 
girls who were familiar with her called her “ Lit¬ 
tle Jennie Long.” 
Jim knew that he was of great stature for hla 
age; and was a little sensitive on that point. I 
Fig. 7. 
don't think he taneled being called “ Big Jim.” 
And It may have been his averslou to that name 
that accounted partly for his blushing so deeply 
one morning or his last term, when he had taken 
his seat at the opening of school. Some mlschiev- 
- ous youth had written a stanza on the blackboard 
—which was on the wall that faced the seats— 
and written It in such a large hand that every 
scholar could read It from where he sat. This is 
a copy of the lofty verse that the teacher has¬ 
tened to erase, as soon as she discovered what 
the scholars were laughing at:— 
" But one dares write—what every one knows— 
That several little fellers fret, 
Because a chance they never get 
To walk and tails with Jennie Long. 
Who hinders them f Big Jim—the strong. 
He comes with her, and with her goes, 
And thinks she wants him to, I s’pose.” 
When Jim’s eyes caught that, his face turned 
very red, as red as—Jennie’s. 
The youth that wrote that poem “ dared ” to 
write It.; hut he did not dare to make himself 
known. 
Of course It was nothing but “ boy’s play," but 
Jim felt that he was near enough to being a man 
to look at It from a man’s stand-point. And 
looking at It in that light, he thought it proper to 
tell Jennie that night when they went home that 
he was very sorry that some mean fellow had an¬ 
noyed her In such a way; that he would find out 
the puppy who wrote tbe stuff and give him a 
sound thrashing, 
But JeDnle, to the surprise of Jim, could not 
see wherein she had been Injured to an extent 
that, demanded any such course as he proposed 
to take. And she dissuaded him from his sanguin¬ 
ary purpose. Not easily, however, but by argu¬ 
ments made In an earnest manner, and urged 
more and more strongly, until he was conquered. 
Without meaning it, perhaps, Jennie said some 
things, before they reached her father’s door, 
that were calculated to mislead Jim, as to the 
place he occupied In her thoughts. It was nothing 
positively encouraging; but something that came 
nearer to being that than anything she had ever 
hetore said to him. Of course it must have been 
unintentional, for nothing In that line was re¬ 
peated during their walks to and from school the 
remainder of thB term. And when the term 
closed, as was said before, Jim felt that she was 
farther from him than ever. He saw with the 
clearness of vision that Is characteristic of 
young men In his state ot rniud, the hopelessness 
of any attempt to make hlmselr her equal lit any 
respect, and then acted as a youth In Ills circum¬ 
stances usually does. He Intended to remain 
with Mr. Long until he was of age, for lie knew 
he could be of great service to the farmer tn the 
two years that intervened between the present 
and that time. And he wished to repay the latter 
for his kindness to him. 
For the first few months of those two years, he 
was apparently quite self-possessed tn his asso¬ 
ciation with Jenule. But that la all that can be 
said to his credit. He broke down—utterly suc¬ 
cumbed— betore six months had passed, proposed; 
and—told J ennle lie did not blame her for not 
caring for him, and hoped she would forgive him 
for offering such a poor creature as himself to 
one like her; that he could not help It; that he 
felt he must know what he was to her, and now 
he did know. 
Jim had discovered Jennie tne evening when he 
asked that question, sitting on a bench under the 
great maple, hack of the house. There she left 
him, and went Into the house; and there fora 
long time he remained after she had gone, sitting 
in Uer place, with a sensation at his heart un¬ 
like anything he had ever betore experienced. 
Not contented to let “ well enough" alone he had 
gone from the negative comtort of conjecture, 
into the positive pain of certainty. 
The next morning he entered upon his labors, 
with less encouragement than Jacob did upon his, 
after Laban's secoud promise. Less by as much 
as a refus il is less than a promise. 
And Jennie 7 If her night’s rest bad been 
less sweet and refreshing than usual, she showed 
no slgus or it. she appeared to be merrier than 
sue had been tor sdme time. Early in the day 
when she and her mother were engaged in the 
labors of the household, she surprised the latter 
very much by a >• season '• of laughing,—a season 
of very violent laughing. 
“ Jennie l" exclaimed Mrs. Long, at last, drop¬ 
ping Into a chair, “ What does all you?” 
“ Why, mamma, It’s the runniest thing—I’ve 
been proposed to. ” 
" Proposed to ? By whom ?” 
“ By Jim." 
“ By our Jim. Jennie ?” 
" Our Jim, mamma.” 
" The foolish boy 1 Of course you told him, 
kindly, that you both were too young to think of 
marriage. Your father was twenty-six, and I 
was twenty-two when we were married. WUat 
did you tell him, Jennie 7" 
“ 1 told him—no I” 
“ That was right; only I—l hope you did not 
hurt his feelings any more than was necessary. 
I trust he will forget all about it soon”— 
“ What, mamma?” 
“I mean, Jennie, that I hope he will see how 
foolish he has been, and forget all about you be¬ 
fore he goes away.” 
“ 0> certainly I—I hope he will—will forget- 
and—see bow It is, before then. He’s poor, you 
know—very. I — I told him so. I wanted to— 
help—him forget, as you say, aud so 1 said In 
case I married, in the course of twenty or twen¬ 
ty-five years, 1 should probably wed a very rich 
man; then l shouldn’t be auy trouble to my_ 
hus— husband ; but that I shouldn’t do for a poor 
titan at. all.” 
*’ Well, Jennie, I do sincerely wish that he may 
soon care as little for you as you do for him." 
As the mouths passed away. Mrs. Long, watch¬ 
ing Jtm, concluded that he had not suffered 
muon by the rejection he had received. The 
kind-hearted woman was glad to think it was so. 
Considering all things, the less attraction her 
daughter had tor the young rellow, the better. 
Jenule, also, hoping as we may suppose that 
Jim, for the sake'ot his peace of mind, would out¬ 
grow hla affection for her, after a Uttle whUe, de¬ 
cided that he had. She was very glad of It. am 
