426 
JUWE 24 
THf RURAL KRW-VORKER. 
Citcvanj. 
THE STORY OF STONY BROOK FARM. 
HENRY STEWART. 
(Continued from page 394.) 
CHAPTER II. 
“ The man is not so easy to be found as the 
place to put him. There is a very neat and 
comfortable tenant house which seems to have 
been occupied until recently. But to find a 
man with gumption enough to go about such 
work as this, is to find a man with a farm of 
his own to work.” 
“Let us advertise,” said George. 
“ That is what everybody does who wants 
anything, or wants to get rid of anything 
either, I believe,” remarked Emily. 
“ The man w ill be found, no doubt,” said Mr. 
Bates: “ there’s a man for every opportunity, 
as there is an opportunity for every mam 
We have come and have seen and all that re¬ 
mains now is to couquer our difficulty. And 
there is a way to do that I suppose.” 
“ Yes, there’s away, certainly, but few-there 
be that find it though,” said Uncle John. “The 
restoration of a poor farm is a work that re¬ 
quires skillful treatment. It is something like 
putting life into a starved man, or breath into 
a drowned one; indeed this land here is both 
starved and drowned; the fields are barren or 
near that and the meadows are full of water; 
the one needs food and the other breath. This 
may be done quickly or slowly; oneway by 
spending a good deal of money; the other by 
spending time and labor. Time and Tabor are 
said to be money but like most of our common 
adages, this is both true and false, A farmer 
may spend time that never could be money, 
because there is a limit to the change of time 
and labor into money. And yet time and 
labor become worth the money. If I dear 
and cultivate these fields and drain these 
meadows by the work of three years time, 
which is worth about a thousand dollars, the 
farm will be improved two thousand or even 
more, perhaps ten thousand, if it be estimated 
as a source of income and an investment but 
if I try to do all this in one year’s time by pur¬ 
chasing manures, or stock, and feeding those 
on purchased feed, I may easily spend ten 
thousand dollars in reaching the same result 
that would be gained by three years work. 
You understand me George?” 
“ Perfectly, Uncle. I see it very clearly. 
But to do this work I also see that one must 
be a skilled man, both practical and able to do 
the work in the best manner and intelligent 
and experienced to do it for the special pur¬ 
pose required.” 
“ Precisely, George. Now that is where so 
many persons who try to run a farm fail. I 
know a young man whose father bought him 
a farm and who had several thousand dollars 
of his own besides. He had read all about 
deep plowing and draining and soiling and 
what not, iu the “Bogdon Farm Papers,” pub¬ 
lished a few years ago. Those papers had a 
most pernicious effect and especially upon 
this young men; who put in practice all the 
false and foolish theories of that visionary 
writer; he plowed up his clay farm and 
buried the real soil under a load of raw 
barren earth which could produce nothing. 
He hired a host of men, laid drains all over 
the land; he procured some of the bepuffed 
Bogdon farm stock, at great cost, and in a 
short time found himself with a barren farm 
and without money. He was a ruined man in 
fact, bis money was all spent and be bad 
ruined his land at least for some years. Now 
that is an example to be avoided; unfortu¬ 
nately it is not at all a singular one.” 
“ But, Uncle John, how is one to gain this 
knowledge and experience?” asked Emily. 
“ Go to school for it. That is where we all 
have to go and the wise people go to those 
that are cheap and avoid that dear school kept 
by that expensive old dame, Experience. For 
young men there are agricultural colleges; 
very useful institutions too they are, wherein 
a year a vast amount of knowledge both scien¬ 
tific and practical may be gained by an 
earnest, studious youngman; for young women 
I am sorry to say there are no such convenient 
institutions. One of our greatest needs just 
now is a dairy school for young women and 
young men too; a real practical dairy under 
the charge of a skilled, practical person who 
knows the business all through and who has 
the ability to convey his knowledge to others. 
But there is no such place for you, Emily, 
so I offer you an opportunity to study with 
your cousins; they will be delighted to have 
your company and you will find I think they 
will be very willing teachers.” 
“ Oh! thank you, Uncle, and I accept your 
offer with pleasure and gratitude, that is if 
papa is willing I should.” 
“ My dear, your Uncle John can be far more 
useful to you than lean, I can give you money 
no doubt, but that is a poor substitute for 
knowledge. It is like beauty, which is easily 
lost and when lost, leaves the unfortunate 
owner very poor indeed, if it has been the 
only possession. I am much obliged to your 
uncle; he Is wiser than 1 am and 1 have the 
fullest confidence in his advice. We w ill all 
be guided by him in this matter.” 
And the party turned their backs on the old 
stone house, quite oblivious of the fact that 
for some little time they had had company in 
ths garden, but the thick growth had con¬ 
cealed the person from view. 
He was a thin-visaged, sharp chinned roan 
of about 50, with a broad-brimmed straw hat 
which bent down over his face, half concealing 
a pair of piercing black eyes and an intelli¬ 
gent lookiug face. 
“ So them’s the new owners of the Stone 
House ; and a likely party they be. Prom 
Bosting, 1 hear; and a mau as rich as Greasers, 
or what-tbey-iioiy-call him. Well, he’s got a 
nice place to put his money on to. This here 
sile ’ll berry a mint of money. It wunt hold 
nuthin’. Old Squire Haddam, as died here, 
never put nothin’ on it anyhow, that’s a fact, 
but it wouldn’t hold it ef he did. Manure’d 
go right through sech silo as this. No bottom 
tu it. I know it like a book. Muck’s the only 
thing that ’ll stay onter it, but there's plenty 
of that in the swamp, as wants talcin’ out. Ef 
I war’nt hired on the Stony-brook farm now 
I’d jest as lief take hold on this old place and 
put it into ship-shape for the Bosting jedge. 
I like the looks of the young feller. He’s got 
the risht kind of idees about this sort of 
farmin’. But bless your soul, Jabez, ef he 
haint got a job on his hands to get this old 
place as good as it was when the old Squire 
died; and it wa’rnt much to brag on then, nor 
since the boys loft it and went West. Let’s 
see; that’s nearly 40 years ago, for I was only 
a boy of 10 then, goin’ to school; an’ 1 used to 
creep iu the orchards and get pears off that 
very tree in the corner by the house when the 
folks were all asleep. What a place that West 
is fur upsettin’ things, surely.” 
And the man let himself dowu from the only 
panel of fence that stood up straigut and 
wended his way across the garden to the ten¬ 
ant-house, lifted the latch and entered, closing 
the door after him. 
In due process of time the Bates family 
entered into possession of the Stone House 
farm, and the black-eyed, thin-visaged Jabez 
Jonkins became their hired man; and here we 
leave these people for a ti ne. 
chapter in. 
Stony Brook is a branch of the Housatonic 
River, and takes its rapid, dasbiug course 
through a deep, rocky bed which it has cut 
through the middle of the valley which is 
overlooked from the Stone-house farm. The 
brook rises in the cluster of hills at the head 
of the valley and gains accessions from a num¬ 
ber of small rivulets and springs which flow 
into it from the high lauds on either side of it, 
and finally, after many windings, escapes 
through the gap iu the hills below. Near the 
source of the brook the valley widens out into 
a sort of level amphitheater of intervale, sur¬ 
rounded by benches of rolling uplaud bordered 
by the clustered hills, and forms a farm, or 
rather two farms, which were once “ the 
Stony Brook farm,” this being now divided 
both by the brook and by the possession of two 
different owners into the “high” and the 
“ low” Stony Brook farms. 
It was near suudown on a fine October suc- 
ceeling the time when the occurrences related 
in the previous chapter took place; that two 
men might have been seen sitting on a rail 
fence, busily engaged in conversation and the 
usual recreation of the Connecticut Yankee, 
whittling. The r,.sy haze of an early Indian 
Summer threw a soft tone over the landscape, 
and hightened the gorgeous coloring of the 
maples and hickories which clothed the hills 
on either baud, and which, in fact, seemed to 
close in the whole of the valloy. Near the 
fence the brook rippled and gurgled among the 
boulders which formed its rough bed. On the 
left the land near by rose by easy, gradual 
slopes into a rolling uplaud. covered with hay 
meadows and pastures, from the green surface 
of which seemed to bubble out here and there 
an occasional smooth granite rock. A little 
higher up was the homestead of the owner, 
Defiance Bartlett, a plain house of the usual 
white clapboarding with brilliant green shut¬ 
ters; a few fine elms overtopping and shading 
it; a grey painted barn, surmounted by a cu¬ 
pola; and with a number of sheds and stables 
ranged in the form of a square, open at one 
side, where the yard was closed in by a heavy 
stone wall. Behind the barn was a consider¬ 
able orchard on the verge ol the slope, every 
tree of which was trimmed with the utmost 
neatness and every stem was glaring in the 
reddish haze with the brightest of whitewash. 
The road to the house from the barn was bor¬ 
dered by large stones, also whitewashed, and 
the great elms around the house and the gar¬ 
den fence, too, were whitened by the same 
covering. Everything betokened an owner of 
the primmest and severest neatness, and when 
one glanced from the farm to the men seated 
on the fence, it was easy to pick out this own¬ 
er as the grey-eyed old man with a thin, prom¬ 
inent nose, and lips compressed so as to be 
almost invisiblein their thinness and bloodless¬ 
ness. A high crowned white ha t covered a head 
from which the long grey hair fell to the 
shoulders, and the old man whittled his stick 
with almost savage industry. 
His companion was a younger man of florid 
complexion and yellow hair; the face was 
thin; the shaggy yellow eyebrows projected 
over deep set blue eyes which had a sinister 
and scowling expression; and the whole air of 
the man, with his bat pushed to one side of 
the head left a peculiarly disagreeable impres¬ 
sion. This was Jonas Pra tt, the owner of the 
half of the farm, which was now known as 
the low Stony Brook farm. Near where the 
men sat the brook took a sweep to the left 
along the edge of the uplands and enclosed a 
large tract of level intervale, or creek bottom, 
beyond which to the right rose a gentle ele¬ 
vation upon which the Pratt homestead was 
situated. Beyond the house and barns and 
orchards ro?e the bills wooded to the top, and 
just now in all the glory of the fall season. 
The katydids song could be heard faintly as 
the dusk began to settle over the scene and 
render the lower part of the valley somewhat 
indistinct. And still the men talked on, un¬ 
heedful of the growing twilight, evidently 
much absorbed in their business, 
“I don’t koer, Bartlett, if I do marry the 
gal, but you know its no love match, leastwise 
on her side. I like her well enough, but as 
for me. why, I’m pizen to her. You know 
she dotes on Cousin Barley.” 
[To be continued,.'] 
fou Women. 
CONDUCTED BY MISS KAY CLARK. 
WE CAN MAKE HOME HAPPY. 
Though we may not diannethi* cottage 
For a mansion tall and grand, 
Or exchange tlw little grasa-plot 
For a boundless streteh of land— 
Yet tin're's something brighter, d*?arer. 
Than the wealth we'd thus command. 
Though we have not means to purchase 
Costly pictures, rich and rare— 
Though we have not. silken hangings 
For the walls, so Cold and bare— 
We can hang them o’er with garlands, 
For (lowers bloom everywhere. 
*Ve can always make home cheerful, 
If the right course we beglu ; 
We can make Its Inmates happy. 
And their truest blessings win. 
It will make the small room brighter 
If we let the sunshine In. 
We con gather round the tlreside. 
When the >■ vetting hours are long: 
We call blend our hearts and voices 
In a happy, social song : 
We ean guide some erring brother— 
Lead him from the path of wrong. 
We may till our home with music, 
And with suiishltm brimming o’er. 
If agolnst all dark intruders 
We will (Irmly close the dtior— 
Yet, should evil shadows enter. 
We must love each other more. 
There are treasures for the lowly, 
Which the grandest fall to find ; 
There’s a chain of sweet affection 
Binding friends of kindred mind. 
We may reap the choicest blessings 
From the poorest lot assigned. 
CHILDREN’S FASHIONS. 
It is not our intention to slight our little 
folks by helping the older ones to fix up and 
look stylish, aud say nothing about new fash¬ 
ions for children. We love dearly to see a 
cunningly-dressed child, and no better taste 
can be displayed than in making and trim¬ 
ming children’s clothes, especially girls, for 
they admit of bo much fixing up with ribbons 
and laces, which are always pretty. But our 
boys’ clothes require as much care, in the cut¬ 
ting and fitting, as the girls in the trimming. 
A stylish suit for boys from five to eight 
‘years of age is a plaited jacket and knee 
pants, made of hunters’ greeu or dark blue 
flannel. There is a mixed goods used con¬ 
siderably for boys’ clothes, but nothing can 
be prettier than a dark green. The trim¬ 
mings are universally of braid ; on the green, 
a handsome shade of old gold or light cream; 
and if blue is the color choseu, the white braid 
looks better than the colored. Of course 
black is always in order, and, as it does 
not soil, is perhaps the most serviceable. 
We show the cut of a blouse waist, with 
kilt pleated skirt, instead of knee pants, 
which is suitable for the first change from 
dresses. 
The other cut represents a dress of white 
Nainsook, with Hamburg embroidery and in¬ 
sertion. This is not a difficult dress to make, 
it gives the best satisfaction, and is suitable 
for either a boy or a girl. After all, there is 
nothing prettier than white, though it soils 
very quickly and consequently requires wash¬ 
ing often, and we get out of patience, after 
dressing our little ones up clean, to have them 
in about two or three.hours present them¬ 
selves looking as if they had worn their dresses 
for days, instead of hours. Yet we think that 
white is the color for children until they get 
to be six years old. 
We would not advise a mother to try a suit 
Figure 193. 
of clothes on her boy just to see how he would 
look, unless she desires to see him broken¬ 
hearted, too. We did this once, and the little 
fellow was speechless for a long while; in fact, 
until bed-time, which was an hour or so af¬ 
ter we put ou the new clothes. When the 
time came for taking them off, then came the 
“tug of war.” 
A fter much coaxing we got them off, but 
from tbattiino he considered himself a man. 
We promised that in the Fall, when ho should 
be five years old, he might have a pair of his 
own, which promise he did not lose sight of 
for a day. 
The little folks are as extravagantly dressed 
here in our city as are the older ones. It is a 
common sight upon Fifth avenue and through 
the parks to see them wear satins, or silks of 
pale blue, pink, or cream color; shoes and 
Figure 194. 
stockings to match, with feathers and trim¬ 
mings on hat the same shade. Of course it is 
only those havlug abundant means that can 
so adorn their children, and it is pleasant to 
look at them, though it is often the case that 
they grow up to care for little else but fash¬ 
ion. Any child can lie made to look stylish 
in a gingham or cambric dress, if cut after a 
pattern suitable for its age, and there are so 
many to choose from one could hardly make 
a mistake. 
A SUNNY ROOM. 
If you are fortunate enough to have 
large windows in your house, do not. darken 
them with shutters and heavy curtains until 
only a straggling ray of sunshine can be seen. 
If bay-wiudows are too expensive, a very de¬ 
sirable substitute can be had by placing two 
ordinary-sized windows side by side, with a 
wide capacious ledge at the bottom, for seats 
or for plants. A room with a window like 
this cannot fail to be cheery, and its effect 
iua simple cottage house is quite sumptuou 
