AUG 40 
THE RURAL HEW-YORKER. 
THE STOEY OF STONY BEOOK FARM. 
HENRY STEWART. 
CHAPTER VIII. 
(Continued from page 538. 
Twenty-four years previous, Josiah Jenkins, 
the brotherof Jabez Jenkins, was a young doc¬ 
tor at Goshen. Mary Merritt was then one of 
the liellea of the village, and had for one of her 
admirers this young doctor. Mary Ransotne, 
the girl who became afterwards the woman 
Mary Merritt, refused so peremptorily the 
suit of Josiah Jenkins in favor of that of John 
Merritt, that the young doctor was completely 
crushed under the rebuff, and suddenly aban¬ 
doned his slender practice, gathered together 
his available property, which consisted of his 
books and surgical instruments, and left his 
native village without saying whither he 
went; not even to his brother Jabez. Natur¬ 
ally he went to the west and followed the 
setting sun, as millions have done and are 
doing. No place like the great West, either to 
hide one’s griefs in, or to bring one’s hopes to 
blossom and fruit. On his way he came 
across a lumbering expedition and joined it as 
its doctor. His engagement was in fact a 
brilliant one. More than 200 men and a dozen 
families were moving out to the Northern 
Wisconsin pineries to cut logs and drive them 
down the rivers to Green Bay, where extensive 
s aw-mills were located. For each single man 
50 cents per month and a dollar per month for 
each married man was deducted from the 
wages for the doctor. * This was in lieu of fees 
and charges for all medical attendance. 
Gathering up on his way a stock of medi¬ 
cines, the young doctor found himself in re¬ 
ceipt of an income which was a princely one 
as compared with that he had left behind. 
On his arrival at the lumbering camp he had 
but little to do for a large gang of robust 
men, except to dress an occasional cut from 
an ax or sew up a broken pate received in 
the frequent lights which occurred upon the 
Sundays when work was suspended and quar¬ 
reling and rioting were substituted. So Doctor 
Jenkins undertook to clear himself a farm. 
With ax and saw he cleared away the small 
timber left after the large oaks and pines had 
been cut and moved away, and soon had more 
than 40 acres cleared, and the next Spring 
planted in potatoes. The crop was sold to the 
lumbering camp, and realiztd him a larger 
sum of money than he had ever hoped to 
possess. A comfortable log-cabin, fitted with 
log bunks, a log fireplace in the center, and 
an open chimney over it, which let out the 
Bmoke and let in the light, and a floor of slabs 
split from a large pine and hewed smooth 
with a broad-ax, was built in a picturesque 
spot on the shore of one of those beautiful 
lakes frequent in (hat region. Behind the 
hut or camp, on the northwest, was a high 
cliff of yellow and white marble, crowned 
with small pines and cedars. To the west lay 
the cleared farm, sloping gradually to the 
clean, gravelly shore of the lake. To the east 
and south lay the lake, surrounded by shores 
here sloping gently into a shallow covered 
with fragrant water-lilies, and there made of 
rocky bluffs and headlands, at the foot of 
which u hundred feet of line went sheer down 
without touching the bottom. Deer fed upon 
the lilies in the shallows and upon the rich 
grasses of the natural meadows bordering 
them. The finest trout abounded in the deep 
waters and about the rocky shores, and a line 
was never cast there without securing a prize 
on the instant. Otter and beaver were plen¬ 
tiful along the shores, and the slides where 
these playful animals amuse themselves by 
coasting down a steep hill and plunging into 
the deep water, precisely as bo many boys 
might do, barring the amphibious part of the 
sport, were frequent around the lake. The 
woods bordering it were filled with deer, 
bears, wild cats, mink, marten, fishers; all 
valuable fur animals; and with grouse, spruce 
partridge, pigeons iu the Spring and Fall, 
while ducks and wild geese were plentiful on 
the lake in the Spring and Fall. The lake 
spread for two miles each way and was as a 
gem mounted in a setting varied in color and 
made up of rooks of every shade, snow-white 
sandy shores, green meadows, sombre spruces, 
the livelier pines, and the brown-limbed and 
quivering-foliaged maples, birches, and bass¬ 
woods which for the greater part made up the 
forest. 
In this retreat, far from the haunts of man, 
excepting when the lumberers came in the 
Fall and staid until Spring, solitary and alone 
dwelt Jorifth Jenkins, for year after year, 
and nursed his love and bis disappointment 
and embittered himself against all human 
kind, to whom he grudged a word even 
in reply to a salutation. So morose and silent 
had he become that when settlements came 
within a day’s journey of him he acquired the 
name of “Old Crusty,” and no person knew 
his real name or his history. 
After a few years he had abandoned his 
medical profession or at least it had aban¬ 
doned bim, for as the pines had been cutaway 
the lumberers left, as the wolf departs from 
his prey when he has picked the bones clear. 
He had sold several crops of potatoes and tur¬ 
nips to the camps, but of late had given his 
time to trapping and the cultivation of grass 
and turnips for the support of his herd of pet 
deer. This herd supplied him with milk and 
had increased to a large number in a few 
years They roamed over his unfenced fields 
and pasture, and were frequently joined by 
several wild ones, some of which bad attached 
themselves to the herd and remained with it. 
His furs were shipped to New York every 
Spring, and the proceeds deposited at his re¬ 
quest in a bank there, had accumulated to a 
large sum, all of which, however, wa9 utterly 
valueless to him in bis forest home where he 
had an abundance of every necessary and 
man}' of the luxuries of life. Sugar and sy¬ 
rup from the maples, Labrador tea. from the 
woods, coffee from roasted acorns and beech¬ 
nuts; venison from the abundant wild deer, 
game of many kinds, the rich juicy meat of 
the beaver; grouse, partridge, teal and ducks, 
wild geese, pigeons, hares, bears, and other 
edible animals furnished him with the choicest 
food and the richest furs for his bedding; 
bnckfikin supplied him with the best and 
warmest of clothing, and his garden stocked 
with native plums and berries, and planted 
with beans, peas, potatoes, carrots, turnips, 
and other vegetables gave him abundance of 
this kind of food and a good deal which he 
had sold to the lumberers in the Wintertime. 
When the mines and furnaces were worked 
these gave him a new market in place of the 
old oue, and his intimate knowledge of the 
woods and of the minerals there hidden, made 
his services greatly in request by explorers. 
And no man could have been more eager in 
the accumulation of money than this recluBe 
to whom it might be thought money could 
have had no value. A hidden purpose, how¬ 
ever, made him eager in its pursuit, and no 
one made a shrewder bargain than he when 
be brought his dog-sled to the settlements 
with a load of his varied produce, or his 
game, for sale. Such was tl is hermit in his 
lonesome dwelling; but hermit as he was his 
manner of life exhibited traces of a refine¬ 
ment and culture more suited to a polite so¬ 
ciety than to his wild surroundings. His hut 
was hung and furnished with the choicest 
furs which would have attracted the envy of 
the wealthiest and most luxurious people. 
Outside it was ornamented with cedar bark 
in the most intricate pa tel work, and the 
ground around it was planted with groups of 
kalmias and other flowering shrubs and wild 
flowers which dotted over a grassy lawn that 
sloped gradually to the water’s edge. In the 
center of this lawn tumbled and foamed a 
small waterfall over a ledge of white uud red 
marble and this natural rockwork had been 
ornamented with ferns, mosses, and trailing 
vines that he had brought from the woods. 
Here was nature in its most exquisite and 
charming beauty that surpassed in every way 
the most elaborate efforts of art in the way of 
park and landscape scenery; no art or arti¬ 
fice appeared, all was natural, simple and 
beautiful. 
In this quiet and lovely retreat had Josiah 
Jenkins spent twenty-four years when an 
abrupt change was made in the course of his 
lonely residence by the arrival at his home of 
the injured man Barley Merritt. No one 
could be more surprised at an unexpected 
apparition than the lumberers at the Escanaba 
river were wheu this man, dressed in buck 
skin, with long flowing white hair, uncovered 
by hat or any other protection, and known 
only to a few of the older hands, rushed 
among them, shouting: 
“Men, where’s the doctor? QuickI I want 
the doctor!” 
“The doctor’s off a fishing.” 
“Where ?” 
“Up the river at the beaver meadow.” 
Without a word of reply the man literally 
bounded into the woods leading to the river 
and making a straight cut for the meadows, 
across a neck of land around which the river 
bent like an ox-bow. The path was well 
known to him, every rock and conspicuous 
tree and brooklet was familiar, and iu a short 
time he had reached the meadows and had 
found the doctor. 
The doctor came, but his labor was in vain. 
He pronounced it dangerous to attempt the 
necessary relief until the inflammation had 
subsided; and but a partial attempt was suc¬ 
cessful in restoring the patient to life and 
after a few days to consciousness again. 
He was conscious; conscious of what was 
around him; but he did not recognize his ac¬ 
quaintance nor remember any thing of former 
occurrences. All his former life was a blank. 
* 'The lightning struck me,” he said, and be- 
' yond that no remembrance existed of previous 
occurrences. As he gained strength and his 
hurts healed, h» shook his head slowly as 
Jenkins told him of bis former history. He 
did not seem to realize the story any more 
than if one should relate to a person a story 
of an existence before he was born. It was 
more than a blank; it was incomprehensible; 
no mental effort he could make was able to 
create an idea in his mind relative to his former 
life.—To be continued. 
PRACTICAL VERSUS MATTER-OF- 
FACT PEOPLE. 
AM I practical, or only matter-of fact! 
This is a question of some importance, which 
every woman might profitably ask herself, 
particularly those women who spend their 
lives managing a smtll income, and giving, as 
they are bound to do, strict and unflagging 
attention to endless trifling details. And yet 
the question itself, put in that particular form, 
will puzzle many, and seem senseless and un¬ 
intelligible, even though the idea conveyed in 
it may often have arisen in an undefined 
shape, and troubled a poor housekeeper’s 
mind. Perhaps I am writing for, and being 
read by some woman whose life is passed in 
weighing details of expenditure, sliding quick¬ 
ly into, and climbing wearily out of, many 
tiny fidgeting difficulties and troubles, all 
which appear so trifling, that it seems quite 
wrong to have one’s mind much taken up by 
them. 
If we are to solve this difficulty, let us de¬ 
fine first what it is to be matter-of-fact, and 
what to be practical, and so study to avoid 
the one and cultivate the other. 
I understand by matter-of factness, that 
low quality of mind that makes the mate¬ 
rial ever present to us as a solid opaque 
wall, beyond which we see no distance and 
no better world. Matter-of factness studies 
matter for its own sake—as an end, and 
not as a means. Those who are possessed 
of this unfortunate quality never can rise, 
because they never can lift their eyes from 
what Bunyan describes as their own muck 
rake, and the heap of straw and sticks they 
are raking together. They are busy for 
this world, but they utterly despise every¬ 
thing but what they call common sense; 
unaware that no comm.n sense can be per 
fected without a certain admixture of un 
common sense, and that, when we cease to 
imagine, we cease to live. 
And now for the other side—the practical. 
I understand by practical people those who 
are so fully persuaded of the claims upon 
them, both of the soul and of the body, and 
particularly of the superior claims of the 
former, that they take every pains, by a care¬ 
ful study of the body’s needs, to prevent its 
gutting into the way of the soul or establish¬ 
ing a dominion over it. They are quite de¬ 
termined the spiritual needs shall he satisfied, 
and to do this they are particularly patient 
and just towards the needs of the body. 
To give an example: A poor woman can 
only get to church once on a Sunday. She 
has the dinner to cook and the family to wash 
and dress, and perhaps cannot go till the 
afternoon. She will, if she is practical, so 
arrange and study her work that it shall be 
really out of the way by that time, no longer 
preying on her mind in any form. An un¬ 
practical woman would forget to move the 
kettle off the fire, or she would leave the key 
in the latch when she went out, and only 
remember when half way through the service 
these Important omissions, aud consequently 
have her mind distracted all the rest of the 
time. A matter of-fact woman would say 
“she had her house and family to attend to,” 
and would simply make no effort to go to 
church at all. 
In higher life, these differences are just the 
same, and often more observable. The lady 
who puts off her business letters till late in the 
afternoon, a time when visitors may come 
in, is unpractical. Social intercourse ought 
(I do not say it always does, but it ought) to 
widen our world, and enlarge our sympathies. 
If properly managed, it might much more 
often do this than it practically does. But a 
lady who has not arranged her time with a 
view to it, who gets caught while in the midst 
of writing important letters for that day’s 
post, is unpractical; she has not arranged 
rightly, and what ought to have been a 
pleasure and a refreshing experience becomes 
a worry, and both host and guests are glad to 
part, for a mutual gene has set in. 
In the Gospel history, Martha meant to be 
practical, but she was only matter-of fact, for 
she ought to have made her preparations 
before our Saviour came to her house. Now, 
have I said enough to prove the wide difference 
between these qualities, and to silence, as I 
hope to do, the self righteous observations of 
some of my matter-of fact acquaintances? * ' I 
am afraid I am a very practical person,” &c. 
which means secretly, “ I am the spring on 
which the house moves; but you don’t appre¬ 
ciate me, being yourselves too visionary to 
understand me. While I am in this world, I 
am not, thank God, above interesting myself 
in this world. I am charmingly humble, pray 
observe! my mind rarely travels beyond my 
butcher’s and biker's books. To sum up. The 
material rises before the eyes of the matter-of- 
fact people as the wall of the room they live 
in, bounding the view; while, to the practical 
one, it is bat the glass iu the windows, which, 
while equally protecting from the weather, 
gives an insight into a wider and more beau¬ 
tiful world. The chief thought of the practi¬ 
cal ones, is to keep their glass uncracked and 
clean, and for this result grudge no labor. 
But why? Is it for the sake of the glass? No; 
it is that, looking through it, they may lose 
themselves in the prospect of the higher world 
above, their constant aim being so to pass 
through things temporal, that they finally lose 
not the things eternal. 
for IXXomrrt. 
CONDUCTED BY MISS RAY CLARK. 
A DAY’S TROUTING. 
We resolved to have a good time trouting, 
up in Sullivan County, and that could only 
be accomplished by leaving the women-folks 
at home, no bother then about checking 
baggage, no staying at a first-class hotel over 
night so as to get rested, no hurrying in the 
morning to get together the gossamers, um¬ 
brellas, and satchels, before we could start. 
No, no; to have a good time was our plan, 
and to get away from these things for a few 
days. Sj off we started in the morning boat 
for Catskill, reaching there in the afternoon, 
just iu time for the stage, which lias a route 
of some 20 miles back into the country; 
and which our freedom from feminine lug¬ 
gage permitted us to run after and stop, only 
to be told, “every seat taken, sir.” We then 
returned to the landing and hired a wagon’ 
into which we soon settled ourselves for the 
long ride. Having gone along several miles 
we were made aware of an approaching storm 
by low muttering thunder and the increasing 
darkness. No such thing as an extra coat or 
an umbrella was to be found in the party, for 
we had sent our valise on ahead, so as not to 
have anything to think of, requiring care. 
Very soon the darkness closed around us, 
shutting us in so completely that we could not 
see each other’s faces. Our situation was 
somewhat perilous, for on one ride of the 
road was a steep precipice extending several 
miles; and the trees were so large and den,e 
that the darkness was intensified, if ’twere 
possible. 
The driver who was accustomed to going 
over this road every day, was confident of his 
knowledge of it and ability to bring us 
through all right, when the storm first met 
us; but after a while acknowledged it to be 
“the worst storm he’d seen in going on six 
years,” and “reckoned he’d have to give the 
horses the lines, for they knew the road better 
than he did.” This was iu some degree com¬ 
forting; when we realized that he did not 
know it. So moving slowly, we went on and 
on through the dense woods, seeing the road 
only as the heavens were lit by vivid flashes 
of lightning, and hoping soon to be out into 
the open country, where at least there was no 
danger of going over a precipice at short 
notice, when we felt the wag-on tipping over. 
Quick as thought one of us sprang over the 
side, bolding the wheel with superhuman 
strength until the rest could follow; and we 
all pulled together, getting it back in the 
road once again. 
We hardly dared venture further, yet here 
we were, drenched through and through; 
Bob’B new silk hat looking like anything else, 
our own was little better. Should we go on, 
or remain until the storm had passed? As 
there was but little likelihood of its clearing 
for several hours, we agreed to push on. 
There was a package of daily and week ly pa¬ 
pers for one of our company who had gone 
on ahead several days before, and who had 
not seen a New York paper in that time. It 
was proposed to make these serve as torches. 
The thought deserved quick action, so we 
opened the bundle expecting to find them wet 
through, l ut to our surprise only those on the 
outside were useless. The matches in our 
pockets were enclosed in a safe, and we were 
confident of being able to light these im¬ 
promptu torches, which was done. 
We ranged ourselves in single file, going 
on ahead of the wagon in which the driver 
was seated, each one ready to light his torch 
as the other grew less: and so on we went un¬ 
til the opeu country was reached. 
All this time the rained poured in torrents; 
it was getting well along toward 10 o’clock, 
and we strained our eyes peering through the 
darkness for a light in some house by the way. 
By and by we were rewarded at sight of 
what we had so longed for, and drawing 
near we were made to stand, by the dogs who 
1 came towards us, barking furiously. Our 
