538 
THE RURAL. KEW-YORKER. 
AUG 12 
THE STORY OF STONY BROOK FARM- 
HENRY STEWART. 
CHAPTER VII. 
(Contlnmed from page 522.) 
“The great thing, George, is to keep our 
expenses down. No more tools; no new seeds; 
no bills; no debt; no this, nor that, until the 
money is in hand. Wbat we have in hand is 
to buy more cows as soon as we can feed 
them. We won’t manage this farinas papa 
runs his Michigan furnace—always a new is¬ 
sue of bonds; an increase of capital; a new 
stack or a new coal-house, ora larger engine 
wanted, and every addition is to make more 
profit, but I do believe, George, to tell the 
truth, that he is losing money every day, and 
has a good deal of anxiety about it.” 
“Ah, women don’t understand business, 
Emily. You are a partner here, and I can’t 
do anything alone, and won’t. But if we had 
a ton of fertilizer on the corn, and were to 
buy a ton or two of cotton seed meal, we 
could feed a dozen cows in place of seven and 
make more butter and more manure, and the 
cotton seed is worth every cent of its cost for 
the manure alone.” • 
“Ah, men understand business too well, 
George. How much would a ton of fertili¬ 
zer for the corn cost?” 
'‘Fifty dollars.” } 
“How' much more fodder would you have?’ 
“Perhaps 10 tons; I don’t know precisely.’’ 
“I read the other day of a man that had 
actually lees corn where he used fertilizers 
than where be put none. How was that?” 
“Ah, the dry season caused that no doubt.’ 
“Suppose we havea dry season.” 
“We shall get the benefit the next year, 
anyhow.” 
“Well, let us keep the *50 until next year, 
George, snd that will be a tangible benefit 
that won’t be affected by the weather. If we 
don’t make anything we shall not lose any¬ 
thing. No, let us run no risks. I want to be 
perfectly at ease, and I think anyone can be 
at ease with nearly seven hundred dollars in 
the bank and a good prospect of a dollar a 
day to keep house with, with milk and butter 
and eggs and vegetables and fruit and an acre 
of wheat, and a pig or two for our hams and 
bacoD, and a lot of chickens, and. as you say, 
a brilliant prospect of doing better in a year 
or two. Let us be thankful and take courage 
and not spend one dollar until we earn it, 
George, and I do believe if farmers were to do 
that, they would be the happiest and most con¬ 
tented people living.” 
“I don’t see why they should not Emily. 
Since I have been studying this business and 
getting my hand in, I see things very differ¬ 
ently from what 1 did. Farmers really own 
all the real wealth of the country. You know 
a thing is worth just wbat you can get out of 
it and no more. Now a farmer can always 
get his shelter and his living and bis clothes 
from his land. Lodgii g and board and 
clothes are worth just so much money. 1 have 
not yet seen a good farmer who could rea¬ 
sonably value these for Ires than a thousand 
dollars a year. A farm that produces this, 
counting interest at six per cent and one-third 
of the amount for the labor, is worth just *11, 
100; or *100 an acre for 100 acres; that is if 
there is nothing at all to sell for more than 
will pay for elotbiug and taxes and repairs. 
Now lam perfectly satisfied that a farm may 
be so managed as to keep one cow to the acre 
of cultivated land; and l shall devote all my 
time and work to reach that point. Then if 
one cow will bring in *50 a year, an acre of 
laud should be worth, taking even one-half 
for labor at least *400 an acre. Now what 
wealth the farmers possess, that is actual and 
tangible, aud that no panics or business re 
verses can take away from them. Pape’s 
city lots are worth he thinks about *10,000 
each aud are about one twentieth of an acre. 
Now you can see that there is no real basis 
for such a valuation as that and the whole 
fabric of the business wealth of the country 
rests on a gigautic bubble credit—while th > 
farmers wealth is the only real, solid, actual 
wealth in existence, land and food and cloth¬ 
ing for biinseif, and more which other peo¬ 
ple can’t do without, aud must pay money 
for.” 
“ Well, George I am glad of that and I 
know mamma has had many a sleepless night 
and many a weary day as she has thought of 
papa’s business, and his speculations, aud I 
know how much she felt relieved when she se¬ 
cured this farm. ‘Emily,’ she said, ‘Keep a 
warm corner for me and papa, no one can 
tell when we may need it.’ Aud George, don’t 
you ever touch mamma’s royalty from the 
mine; let it gather in the bank for her, al¬ 
though she left it for you to use. I know she 
has a sort of premonition that it will be very 
much needed one day. The Stone House 
farm shall be run from its own resources, if 
Jabez has to be sent away and I have to 
go and hoe corn and you do the plowing.” 
“All right Emily,” said George, laughing I 
have already made up my mind to that; bat I 
believe that one good head can keep at least two 
pair of hands working profitably, and if my 
head is not good enough for that Harvard is a 
humbug. But I must go and help Jabez with 
the roots, and they need hoeing badly after 
the rain.” 
“Aui I have the young cabbages to hoe 
and the little carrots are lost in the weeds, 
and the currant worms are eating the bushes 
and some asparagus and rhubarb must be 
cut for dinner so I can’t waste any time 
talking either. Now, go along George. But 
wait a minute: bring the cows wheu you come 
home and we will feed and milk them before 
dinner. I shal 1 be ready for them at 6 o’clock. 
Here were two young people, delicately 
nurtured, highly educated, cultured, used 
to luxurv and ease, who had chosen a farm 
life, because they felt it to be more useful, 
more noble, more pleasant, more comfortable, 
and more independent than a life of idleness 
in a city, where as one expressed it, some 
other person was working somewhere to sup¬ 
port each one of them because no person 
oould live without labor and if one did not 
vvork in some way, Borne other person was 
doiDg a double share of work. They brought 
intelligence and quickness of apprehension to 
the work they had chosen to do and found it 
very easy to simplify the ordinary methods 
of farm work and lighteo the labor of it. Al¬ 
though reared in the fashionable society of 
Boston they had the good sense to see that a 
person may elevate and ennoble any kind of 
honest work aud that the work does not in the 
slightest degree degrade the person who does 
it. The person is the measure and the stand¬ 
ard of the work; and not the work or the 
labor that of the person. And this is a great 
truth, which would be apparent to every 
one, were it not that some are blinded to 
it by vanity aud pride. 
CHAPTER VIII. 
When Barley Merritt, or what seeemed to 
be his lifeless body, was lifted from the sled 
upon which it had been borne over the trail 
to the camp of “Old Crusty,” the old man 
laid his burden tenderly upon his bed of soft 
furs. Then procuring water from a spring 
which rippled past the camp in its course to 
the lake, he washed the blood from the face 
aud head, clipped otf the hair from about a 
long, deep gash on the side of the head above 
the ear, carefully examined the wound, shak¬ 
ing his head ominously meanwhile. A limb 
had struck the left side of the man’s head and 
had torn the scalp from the bone, which was 
badly fractured aud crushed in, although no 
brain matter protruded. Quickly replacing 
the scalp over the bone and drawing it togeth¬ 
er, he applied strips of plaster in a skillful 
manner and then bound up the head with 
strips torn from a sheet of perfect whiteness 
which he took from a sort of locker on the wall. 
Then he turned his attention to the limbs and 
body of the wounded man. With the excep¬ 
tion of numerous bruises there was uo serious 
injury, but one broken arm fractured below 
the elbow. With an ax and draw-knife some 
very serviceable splints were soon made from 
strips of white ash and apiece of birch bark, 
aud the old man extended the limb, placed it 
in a proper position and secured it by banda¬ 
ges to the splints. This was all done quickly 
and deftly, showing that he had not forgotten 
his previous knowledge aud practice. 
“ It will be a tough job for him if he lives,” 
said the old man; “but Mary Merritt’s only 
boy shan’t die or suffer if I can help it. What 
a chance is this, and who would have dreamed 
that this could have come about after twenty- 
four years of life here, and up here, too. 
There’s some fate in it, or it wouldn’t have 
happened in this way. What’s to be done ? 
His skull fractured, and there is pressure ou 
the brain. That must be relieved or he’ll 
never recover, and that’s a job past my means 
or skill. He breathes and his heart beats. I’ll 
give him a little more brandy aud then go to 
the loggiug camp for the doctor, and will con¬ 
sult about wbat can be done. He won’t re¬ 
vive before I come back, anyhow.” 
The old man poured a teaspoonful of braudy, 
a few drops at a time, between the lips of the 
wounded man anil was gratified to see it swal¬ 
lowed- The pulse responded to the stimulant 
very soon, and having called the dogs and 
charged them to watch at the bedside, they 
crouched aud laid down, aud he immediately 
strode off into the woods at a rapid pace. 
(To be continued.) 
-- 
LIABILITY TO DISEASE. 
This subject seems to be but little under¬ 
stood; it is, however, a very simple one after 
a little consideration. The human system, 
and equally the systems of all animals, may 
be Baid to exist under two general conditions, 
, . » 1 *♦ 
that of health being the normal, and of sick¬ 
ness the abnormal one. In health the system 
exerts a very powerful repellant action, in 
sickness a more powerful absorbent one. Bike 
a fortress well manned, it is able to repel, 
while in health,all attacks; there seems to be ft 
healthy exhalation constantly springing from 
all parts of the system, say like the emanation 
of heat from a stove (which is in this case act¬ 
ually visible). This exhalation repels all 
forms of disease, which may be more easily 
understood, now that we are beginning to 
learn that all disease is caused by the lodg¬ 
ment of animalculm constantly floating in the 
air, and that their muscular power is not suf¬ 
ficient to stem even as weak a current as must 
be formed by even the healthiest emanations 
of the animal system. 
On the other hand, if the system i3 allowed 
to become weakened below the repellant 
point, by want of food, by unwholesome food, 
by excess of labor, or by more muscular ex¬ 
ertion than the system cax sustain, the repel¬ 
lant action ceases, and the system, gasping 
after vitality, as a man under violent exer¬ 
cise gasps for breath, becomes absorbent, in 
every pore, disease is invited, animalculm are 
drawn in, sucked in by an actual current of 
air to the uow weakened vital points, and the 
weakened one at onc9 becomes the seat of a 
disease peculiar to its capabilities. 
If the lungs are the weakest point, con- 
sum ption reestablished; if the liver, then jaun¬ 
dice; if the stomach, then dyspepsia, and so on 
through the whole rouud of vital points in the 
body, most liable to attack. There is little 
doubt that these are facts, and they lead to 
but one conclusion. We must by a proper 
course of congenial food, with sufficient air, 
and properly timed exercise so maintain the 
healthy repellant state as to render the attack 
of our invisible foes powerless. 
This determination demands a full knowl¬ 
edge of the requirements of the system we 
wish to bring to maturity. There will be some 
peculiarities necessary for each kindof animal, 
but the general demands which ail varieties of 
stock make upon our care are sound food, 
pure water, shelter from extremes of temper¬ 
ature, and bodily exercise sufficient to main¬ 
tain a healthy action of the digestive organs, 
aud of the bodily secretions. 
If, however, we carry this protection of the 
system in the case of fattening animals be¬ 
yond a certain point, varying quality accord¬ 
ing to the stamina of the subject, we pass the 
point of safety, and from a highly repellant 
condition fall suddenly into the opposite ab¬ 
sorbent state. 
This will be noticed in fattening an animal, 
if it becomes “ ripe” to use a technical term, 
we must kill it at once or disease begins, be¬ 
cause the system has reached its highest state 
of perfection, and can go uo further safely. 
A study of this subject by every one, will 
lead to more sensible modes of feeding young 
animals up to the fattening point, and then of 
putting on to healthy flesh su h an amount of 
healthy fat as may be desirable. The health, 
stamina, and happiness of man himself de¬ 
pend entirely upon the close application of 
these principles both to himself and to the 
domestic an imals which he uses for his own 
food. S. Rufus Mason. 
for Women. 
CONDUCTED BY MISS HAY CLARK. 
WOMEN OF GENIUS AND MATRI¬ 
MONY. 
Why is it that women of genius generally 
contract the most unfortunate matrimonial 
alliances? Patti had trouble enough. Jenny 
Lind and Parepa Rosa were exceptional in¬ 
stances. Both were good women und married 
fairly good husbands. Nilsson’s husband 
seems to have been a weak and visionary man, 
inheriting the taint of iusauity, although from 
anything that appeal’s to the contrary, he 
made a kind husband, and Nilsson was much 
attached to him. V great singer or an actress 
has an income of *20,000 a year. She is a 
prize e igerly sought by adventurers. Some¬ 
times the latter have titles and little else, not 
even a good reputation. Marriages of this 
kind turn out badly. The wife comes to learn 
the mean aud mercenary character of her hus¬ 
band. He squanders her money, lives on her 
earnings, lacks manliness, and often decency. 
In course of time she despises him. Then 
comes a separation, with intermediate scan¬ 
dals often. One would think that women of 
genius, who see so much of the world, would 
have some practical views ou the matter of 
selecting a husband. But the children of 
genius are often unwise. Niue-teuths of the 
star singers and actresses marry men who are 
mere parasites. The exceptional instances are 
so few that everybody notes the fact as some¬ 
thing extraordinary when one of these star 
performers gets a good husband. The public 
has been talking about Jenn j Lind’s choice of 
a good husband for more than a quarter of a 
century. She made choice of a good average 
man, and settled down to happy domestic 
life. As for the others, they have a sorry lot 
of husbands. Some of them were broken 
down Counts, gamblers, rou6s and what not 
—mere adventurers who were looking around 
for spending money, and wanting nothing 
better than to select their victims from among 
women of genius. 
There is one other difficulty in the way of 
comfortable marriages on the part of such 
women. Most of them know nothing about 
domestic life. They have a theory that it is 
very desirable, and that they will be happier 
in retirement. But during all the prime of 
their lives they have been accustomed to the 
excitement and adulation of public life. The 
women worshipped on the stage by thousands, 
ean only be worshipped lawfully by one man 
in domestic life. The change is a radical one. 
The situation becomes tame, monotonous, and 
sometimes unbearable. The woman breaks 
over the bonds of domestic life aud goes back 
to the stage, because she is at home only there. 
Here and there one has had enough of it. 
Domestic tranquility and home life are never 
a burden. How many women of genius find 
such experience ? It were good that such 
women were married to their vocation, and 
to that alone. What between making choice 
of bad or indifferent husbands, and having 
small capacity to be good wives, even if they 
had good husbands, the chance for domestic 
felicity is small. It is always safe for a woman 
of genius to be married to art. She is at home 
there; but never at home with an adventurer 
who worships only her money. 
-- 
A SUMMER MORNING IN THE 
COUNTRY. 
There has been a thunder storm during the 
night, and even this was musical after the 
long, long monotony of wintry winds which 
lasted till almost Summer. As the sun came 
up he fringed all the clouds with gold, which 
contrasted with the deep blue and soft gray 
of the sky, made a delightful combination. 
The valley, clad iu tender green smiled back 
his greeting, although the beauty had just 
been indulging in such a shower of tears, that 
even the grass blades, leaves, and beautiful 
wild flowers still carried the burden of them 
these, old Sol changed to diamonds by one 
glance of his admiring eyes; and the orchestra 
was already in full practice. We would like 
to see the musician who can copy a bird’s song. 
The singer who can in a degree imitate the 
matchless trills and warbles of the feathered 
songsters is a rare genius. Yet the concert 
goes on, as free as the sunbeams and the 
breezes. The river flows peacefully on re¬ 
flecting the bending willows and blue violets, 
and grasses. And now the sound of busy 
labor awakes; the fields are being cultivated; 
and troops of merry children flocked by on 
their way to school; dainty little girls with 
white aprons and sun bonnets, laughing, 
roistering boys with bare feet, bubbling over 
with fun and merriment. 
It does not seem the same world which has 
for so long been folded in its suowy shroud. 
The valley is a beautiful picture upon which 
the admiring hills look down,while the brooks 
and streams murmur thc-ir gladness, and we 
doubt if anywhere a more delightful scene 
can be witnessed than a Summer morniug in 
the country. Mrs. E. J. Richmond. 
-- 
FLOWERS. 
W ho would wish to live without flowers? 
Where would the poet fly for images of beauty 
if they were to perish? Are they not the em¬ 
blems of loveliness and innocence—the living 
types of all that is pleasing aud graceful? 
We compare young lips to the rose, and the 
white brow to the lily; the winning eye gathers 
its glow from the violet; the sweet voice is 
like a breeze kissing its way through flowers. 
We haug delicate blossoms on the ringlets of 
the bride, and strew her path with fragrant 
bells as she leaves the church We place them 
around the face of the dead and they become 
symbols of our affections. They come upon 
us iu Spring like the recollection of a dream, 
which hovers about us in sleep, peopled with 
shadowy beauties aud purple delights, fancy 
broidered. Sweet flowers that bring before 
our eyes scenes of childhood—faces remem¬ 
bered in youth—the mossy bank by the way- 
side where we so often sat for many hours 
drinking iu the beauty of the primroses with 
oar eyes—the sheltered glen, darkly green, 
filled with the perfume of violets, that, in 
their intense blue, shone like another sky 
spread on the earth—the laughter of merry 
voices, the sweet song of the maiden, the 
downcast eye, the spreading blush, the kiss 
ashamed at its own sound—are all brought 
back to memory by u flower. 
-*■ — 
Mrs. E. D. E. N. South worth regards 
as the happiest portion of her life the time 
she spent, soon after her mar liage, in a lone¬ 
ly log cabin in the forest-wilds of Wisconsin 
where wolves often howled about the doors. 
