WELLS, RICHARDSON A CO’S 
IMPROVED 
BUTTER COLOR 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
SEPT 
I said; and then my thoughts wandered to 
the mental extremes in which I had been in¬ 
volved during the past month. I remembered 
the wonderful week we had enjoyed in Mon¬ 
treal, listening to the wise and learned, who 
gathered there to give us the results of their 
scientific research. The social intercourse, 
the sharp discussions, and the crowd of earn¬ 
est, intelligent men and woman had been very 
pleasant to me, and I had a feeling as of some¬ 
thing wanting in the atmosphere of ray quiet 
home when returning. But, as we sat at 
dinner that day, after all were satisfied, I 
felt myself given to moralizing, and with a 
queer sense of relief, I mentally said: “Make 
the best of what you have. If not the choicest 
the market affords, make it appear so. ‘ Take 
the good when you lose the best; and school 
yourself till it seems as well. 1 ’ And then I 
looked at the ripening fruit, the fresh, gay 
Autumn flowers, the roses that still linger 
with us with all their June fragrance, and 
turning to the dear home faces, I said: “Al¬ 
ways make the best of your dried beef,” and 
this was all, for I kept the rest of my after- 
dinner thoughts for the Rural. 
During my absence from home, I Itarned 
many little items that will be given to the 
readers, as seems suitable. Eating ginger- 
snaps one day, I remarked on their crispness, 
as mine usually became soft. Said the lady, 
“Never put them in a place where you keep 
other cake, but in a box by themselves.” I have 
not tried it, but intend to do so, for I had al¬ 
ways blamed the air or dampness of some sort 
as the cause. 
ternoon sun pours its hot rays upon her 
through the window above. 
that saw not, she was gazing out across 
meadow and stream to the long railroad nar¬ 
rowing in the blue distance; gazing and 
thinking, a luxury seldom indulged in at 
Barclay farm. She had been busy, so busy, 
since the first streak of dawn, churning, bak¬ 
ing, ironing, with the countless items of 
housework keeping pace with her hurrying 
feet. She had not thought of stopping, for 
the cucumbers were yet to be salted down 
that she had picked before the sun had risen, 
the sink was filled with unwashed dishes left 
from the noonday meal, and the floors were 
yet to be cleaned. But when she had heard 
the hoarse scream of the afternoon mail train 
as it dragged itself away from the little by¬ 
station, a mile away, she went to the window 
and watched it narrow itself to a speck in the 
level distance. Then she fell to thinking. Six 
years before she had come there to the big 
farm house a hopeful, happy bride, only 32, 
with life, as it seemed to her, just opening 
with beauty and promise. Ernest Barclay 
was a good man, and loved his sweet, young 
wife. With rigid ideas of labor and economy 
which had been the first lesson he had ever 
learned, it was not so strange, perhaps, that 
as the years went on, he thought other’s 
capabilities equal to his own (that is, when 
he thought at all, for he was too busy to think 
much.) “Annie must be well;she never com¬ 
plained,” be said to his sister Martha one 
evening, when he had called to see her about 
that, pasture land, and who bad casually said, 
“she supposed Ann was all right.” Martha 
lived on an adjoining farm, a woman who 
seldom thought of anything above earthly 
good8 and their relative value in money. She 
had always been a thorn in poor Annie’s flesh; 
she never could please her, try as she would. 
“Yes,” she went on, “I reckon her health is 
about as good as common folks, though I tell 
her (laughing shortly) those hifalutin nctions 
of her’n tire a woman more than work; 
weedin’ that great patch of flowers, and those 
books”—here she shifted the pan of apples she 
was paring, and glanced sideways at Krnes^ 
to determine whether it would do to go fur¬ 
ther; but he was debating within himself con¬ 
cerning that land which he could see from 
win re he sat, and did not seem to hear her. 
“It ain’t as though her time was her own, one 
might say, ahem! seein’ as she never brought 
you nothin’.” “Martha, I hive often told 
you I would hear no complaints of my wife,’ 
said Ernest, rising angrily. “She is too good 
for me the best day I ever see.” “Oh! well, 
let it go,” said Martha, “and now if you 
want that land.”— 
Be it known that Martha was “fore¬ 
handed,” as she called it, owning many acres 
on her own “hook,” and disposing of it, too, 
according to her own best judgement, w herc- 
as, poor Annie had brought her husband 
nothing of value in her eyes. Her bright 
youth, blossoming with flowers of hope, her 
love and freedom she had given freely, asking 
no recompense but to be loved and cared for. 
She had done the best she could. She was not 
so strong as bis mother and sisters, but how 
bravely bad she tried to do the work they had 
done with ease, never complaining, though at 
times so weary she could not rest well, and the 
day with its labors seemed interminable. 
Ernest was never unkind, only thoughtless; 
sometimes he would say, “too bad, girlie, to 
have to work so hard,” and at the touch of 
old time tenderness, she felt that she was 
strong to do, and would again strain every 
nerve to her tasks. It was not all at once, 
but slowly that the work began to wear on 
her. She had of late often put her hand to 
her side as if in pain, and had often sat down 
a minute to rest, though not by the window 
where Martha could see her. But this after¬ 
noon she had not thought of that; she thought 
of her dear old mother away among the New 
Hampshire hills, white-haired and yearning 
for her only child. “That was what seemed 
so strange,” she whispered to herself, “that 
she could ever leave her.” Once more she is 
a maiden in that widowed mother’s cottage 
home. Beene after scene rises in memory's 
halls, till dropping her head on the window 
seat, she sob3 the hard, tight feelings all 
away, whispering, “Obi mother, mother, 
I want you so.” For though a true wife, lov¬ 
ing her husband devotedly and cheerfully, tak¬ 
ing upon her shoulders all a wife’s responsi¬ 
bilities, her heart, still a child’s, so yearned 
for the mother love and guidance. Every 
year she had intended going home, but every¬ 
thing had seemed to conspire to disappoint 
her. The wheat crop failed the first year, 
the next, a disease got amoug the cattle, and 
she dreaded to ask Ernest for money which 
she knew he intended using to replace his 
stock. Then Marthu told her she was a ninny 
if she supposed Ernest had money to tote her 
back and forth on the cars; when mail trains 
run reg’lar she did not s’pose it was very nee 
essary to go way out there. Was not her 
mother well?" And so she bad not seen that 
blessed mother in all these years—six years, 
can it be! and she says it over and over as she 
sits there, her work forgotten, while the af¬ 
A GOOD SUGGESTION. 
Dear Rural: Are the farmers’ wives al¬ 
ways at work In the kitchen, or why do we 
see so few letters from them ? I think good, 
readable letters always welcome, whether in 
the Rural or ut the private desk. Why not 
devote a short space to the description of 
what we ourselves have been doing, a9 well as 
to the amount of wheat, etc., raised ? 
We are not so selfish as to want to keep all 
the good things to ourselves. Why not tell 
the friends how we succeeded w ith poultry, 
vegetables, flowers, &c. ? And how the soap 
we use to do away with part of the rubbing 
on washdBy is made? Surely we need not 
lack topics. I, for one, am a little partial to 
the edibles of life. And then this is the month 
of fairs! Why not describe the articles we 
tee there that seem worthy of our attention I 
Tell us what carried the blue ribbons that 
come from the farm as well as the city. I 
think it would interest a few, at least, to read 
of the beautiful things shown at most of the 
agricultural fairs. 
Now do not all speak at once, or we shall 
not all be heard. 
Next week is the week of our fair, and I 
shall appoint myself a “ committee of one” to 
look for interesting articles. Yours, Clyde. 
[We welcome you to our columns, and hope 
that now the ball is started it will keep roll¬ 
ing, bringing us something of interest from 
hundreds of homes where the Rural is loved. 
Let us have glimpses into your home life— 
how you adorn your rooms; bring up your 
children; what you do to make home cheerful 
for your tired husbands when they get there 
a 1 ; night. Tell us, friends, about yourselves, 
so that we may grow into mutual ad¬ 
miration society.— Eds] 
PROFESSOR 
Made from Trofessor Horsford’s Acid 
Phosphate. 
Recommended by leading physicians. 
Makes lighter biscuit, cakes, etc., and 
is healthier than ordinary Raking Pow¬ 
der. 
In cans. Sold at a reasonable price. 
The ltorsford Almanac and Cook Rook 
sent free. 
Hum ford Chemical Works, Providence, R. I. 
H. M. ANTHONY, Ag’t 100 and 1(2 Reade St., N. 
DOMESTIC RECIPES 
A NEW DISCOVERY 
APPLE PRESERVES. 
Allow three-quarters of a pound of sugar 
to each pound of fruit. Select good flavored 
fruit. Make a sirup of the sugar and boil in 
it a piece of root ginger (bruised and tied in a 
bag) until the strength is well extracted. Add 
a little lemon juice skim off the scum and boil 
in the sirup a few apples at a time until the 
pieces look transparent. As you take the 
pieces out, put into bottles. When all are 
cooked, boil down the sirup and pour over. 
Mrs. E. C. 
ftTFor several years wo huvn famished the 
'Dairymen of Amere n with k n excellent arti¬ 
ficial color Tor butter; so merit ortous that it met 
jwlth great so or ess everywhere receiving the 
highest and only prizes at both International 
.Dairy Fame 
I fir But by patient and scientific chemical re¬ 
search wu have improved in several points, and 
| now offer this new color ns the brft In the world. 
Twenty-two acres have been planted in 
corn and seven acres in cotton by Miss Krea- 
mer, of Helena, Ark., she having done the 
plowing herself and attended to the crop so 
far without help, aud expects to harvest a 
bale of cotton to the acre, and 40 bushels of 
corn to the same amount of land. 
Miss F. E. Coleman of New York, succeeded 
in sliding down Mount Washington Railroad 
on a board the other day, making the three 
miles in thirteen minutes, attended by two old 
soldiers—a novel as well as a dungerous ex¬ 
periment, and one which the envious critics 
say could only have been made after long 
practice ou (he Vassar College balustrades. 
It Will Not Color the Buttermilk. It 
Will Not Turn Rancid. It Is the 
Strongest, Brightest and 
Cheapest Color Made 
tyAnd, wii ilo prepared in oil, 1« so compound 
ed 1 hat it is Impossible for It to become r.uicid. 
I tlTBEWARE of all imitations, and of ail 
other oil colors, for they arc liable to become 
rancid and spoil tho butter. 
I nf-If you cannot get. the "improved'' write us 
to know where nod liow to get it without earn 
I expense. (3®) 
WELLS BICIUBD80S A CO., Iltirllnston, Vt. 
RAISIN PUFFS. 
Two eggs; scant one-half cup of butter; 
three teaspoons baking powder, two table¬ 
spoons of sugar; two cups of flour; one cup of 
raisins, chopped fine ; one cup of milk. Bteam 
one-half hour In small cups. Eat with liquid 
sauce made of melted butter, sugar aud flour 
cooked. Add vinegar if desired. 
FRENCH FICKLE—AN 
i ,|»- r /.'A APPETIZER. 
One peck green tc- 
matoes; six onions; six 
green peppers (cl opped 
I, Sue) one teacupful of 
■ M salt. Let stand over 
night. In the moi ning 
V drain tbe brine off, 
tben a< ld two quarts 
of water and oue of 
hf,l- vinegar, boil 10 min- 
DR. C. W. BENSON’S 
SKIN CURE 
h Is Warranted to Cure w 
2 ECZEMA, TETTERS, HUMORS, w 
g INFLAMMATION, MILK CRUST, § 
g ALL ROUGH SCALY ERUPTIONS, 
w DISEASES OF HAIR AND SCALP, ►* 
ri SCROFULA ULCERS, PIMPLES and g 
” TENDER ITCHINCS on all partaof the < 
body. It makes the skin wliito, soft and smooth] 
removes t»u and freckles, and Is tho BEST toilet 
dressing in TEE WORLD. Elegantly put up. two 
’jetties in one package, consisting of Doth internal 
and external treatment. 
All first class dnurirista have it. Price 81. per package. 
I UniCQ WE GIVE vitWoV: 
1 ftn I b Jl ■ !«ugc*t and bejt *tnry nuiwr. t> Months 
k■ VV on Mill, nnd n Benutiim GOLDEN 
WORK BOX. containing 100 B«m Nvcdtoi; Bod¬ 
kins; 3 long Darners, 2 short and li extra tin** Darnera: ‘ Wool* 
2 Yarn, 1 Worsted, 1 Motto, 2 Carpet unci d Button Needles; 
1 Saferv Pin; 1 Gol<jt*PUo‘d Chmiixp Stud; 1 Klv^unt Silver- 
Plated ’Thimble; 1 Beautiful Gold-Plated Lane Pin.and > pair 
Elegant Like George Diamond Kuiring*. for 50 Slumps 
taken. Tin* ofli-i I* made to introduce nor »»:»i»* r in m*w 
homes, Wc guarantee the nrvmluttiN :*hai»* cannot ha bought 
at any store tor than ‘^tUrtution guaranteed, or 
money reminded. Onlvf now. aud neeure a Big Bargain- 
Domestic Cconanuj 
Mrs. John E. Sweet. 
CONDUCTED HI EMILY MAPLE 
POTATO PUDDING. 
Boil six mealy potatoes aud mash fine. 
Stir half a pound of white sugar and a quarter 
of a pound of butter to a cream, add the 
beaten yelks of five, and the whites of two 
eggs, the mashed potato, a pint of good rich 
milk, a little salt and the grated rind of a 
lemon. Bake in a slow oven an hour and a 
quarter. Beat tbe reserved whites stiff, add 
a spoonful of powdered sugar, put over the 
top and return to the oven to brown. 
Mrs. Kate Brady. 
FEAST AND FAMINE. 
ANNIE L. JACK, 
No meat in the house and the butcher does 
not come till to-morrow! Hens have “struck 
won’t lay, and we have no fish or canned 
meats. Wbat shall be done! The amateur 
cook brandished a knife with a threatening 
air, and we answered meekly, “Welsh rab¬ 
bit.” “It makes such a poor dinner,” she an¬ 
swered, and then I suggested the dried beef 
that was almost forgotten during our season 
of plenty. So the neglected beef bam was 
brought from the smoke-house, aud wheu un¬ 
wrapped from its mummy-like condition it 
was found to be eared to perfection. I told 
her to sharpen the knife, and then shaved the 
beef into the thinnest of slices, put them on 
the fire in a pan, with enough boiling water 
to cover them. After a boiling of three or 
four minutes, the water was drained off and 
a tablespoonful of butter, with a little pepper, 
was put into the pan. I then directed that 
four eggs be well beaten, and a spoonful of 
milk mixed with them. This was poured into 
the pan of meat while hot, quickly stirred 
for a few minutes, and served in a covered 
dish. We had potatoes and cauliflower for 
dinner, and there was only one fault to the 
meat —everyone declared they could eat twice 
as much. “So it was not a famine, after all,” 
BUCKWHEAT SHORT-CAKE. 
A pint of sour milk, a teaspoonful of soda 
and a little salt. Stir in enough buckwheat 
flour to make a stiff batter and bake in thin 
sheets. A spoonful of butter may be rubbed 
through the flour. By many this is liked 
better than pancakes. Nice eaten with honey 
or molasses. C. c. 
FOR TOOTHACHE. 
Put a piece of butter on some cotton and 
apply it. This is a sure cure for me. 
Mrs. L. H Niles. 
Horslbrd’i* Acid l*liot*pkate 
Makes a cooling drink. Into a tumbler of 
ice water put a teaspoonful of Acid Phos¬ 
phate; add sugar to drink.—Ailv, 
a week in yoar own town. Terms and 89 outfit 
free. Address Hallett ft Oo.. Portland. Maine. 
per day at home. Sauries worth 85 tree 
Address Stinson A Co., Portland, Me. 
