788 
NOV 48 
better how to take care of himself when he 
must depend upon his own efforts for his com¬ 
fort. The fishing had been very successful. 
Some flue large trout had been captured and 
the Doctor had secured a brace of ducks and 
a few partridge. With these they thought to 
feast luxuriously, as soon as they had a fire. 
The afternoon was warm and pleasant; but 
the woods were cool and damp; the ground 
being Btill saturated by the recently melted 
snow. The doctor thought it would be a 
saving of labor to cut down some hemlocks, 
as the brush would furnish their couch and 
shelter, and the wood for their fire. But 
green hemlock they found made a wretched 
fire, giving out plenty of smoke and spitting 
out spitefully every spark of fire which they 
started. After several hours vain effort to 
get the incombustible wood to burn, they 
made a supper from the dry crackers which 
they had brought with them and some water 
from the brook by which they had camped. 
Night fell swiftly and the mosquitoes leaving 
their lairs in the damp moss, from which the 
intruders had disturbed them, came out in 
clouds, fierce and ravenous. The smoke from 
the smouldering embers was worse than the 
flies, when it blinded and stung their eyes; 
and the flies were worse than the smoke> 
when these put in their little bills. 
“ The woods are indeed delightful, Doctor, 
are they not i How lovely and simple nature 
is, and how hollow is our civilization. Yet I 
feel aa though a cup of the Parker House 
coffee just now might be almost equal to Trim 
culo’s comfort. Indeed I don’t think Trinculo’s 
experience was much worse than ours is going 
to be, for the stars which I have been watch¬ 
ing through the gaps in our roof have disap¬ 
peared, and I think I felt a drop of rain on 
my face.” 
“ I don’t know what we shall do for these 
flies,” returned his fellow-sufferer; they bite 
furiously and all over at once. There’s mil¬ 
lions of them. I shall wrap the blanket 
around my head. But what’s that ? rain ? ” 
“Yes, rain pattering on the roof, my boy; 
and I am very much afraid our roof leaks in 
several places. Oh, this is comfort! There 
she comes and down she pours.” 
“ Why this is a straight up and down rain.’> 
“ It seems so." 
“ Wbat ’3 this ? here’s water under us, and, 
bless me, here’s water all over the camp. The 
brook must be rising. We had better get out 
of this to higher ground.” 
“ Now, Doctor, you thought this was such 
a nice spot, so sheltered and cosy in this nook; 
water so convenient. You were right there, 
Doctor. Such nice brush for tbe camp; and 
such easy wood to cut; and I gave way to 
your superior instinct in respect of choosing 
a camp, and now we must leave this pleasant 
spot. Indeed we must, and quickly, for the 
water is up to my knees. But where is the 
high ground 1 It is as dark as pitch, and we 
have no lantern. Next time, Doctor, we’ll 
bring a lantern; make a note of that, will yon ?" 
“ The high ground is just behind the camp.” 
And, drenched to the skin, they managed to 
grope their way over slippery roots and logs; 
and through tangled brush which soon reduced 
their clothing to tatters they reached an over¬ 
hanging tree, and crouching under their blan¬ 
kets, they fought the mosquitoes and worried 
through until morning. 
Just before daybreak there was lightning 
and thunder, vivid and fierce as is common 
in that region; and the rain poured in tor¬ 
rents. But no night of misery lasts forever. 
The gray dawn lightened up the surface of 
the lake, the rain ceased, the clouds broke in 
the east and the sun tried to cheer up the 
weeping landscape. Our pleasure seekers’ 
sought their boat. Alas ! tbey had forgotten 
to secure it to the shore, and it had disap¬ 
peared. The wind had drifted it out of sight. 
There was no help but to skirt, the lake back 
to the camp. They looked at each other and 
burst out into uncontrollable laughter. Their 
trousers bung in ribbons from the knees 
downwards. Their coats were in shreds; 
their hats sodden out of shape, drooped over 
their faces; their faces were begrimmed with 
smoke, and black from the scorched wood 
which they had handled and then brushed the 
flies from brows and cheeks; their eyes were 
half closed, by the mosquito bites, and their 
swollen and blood-spotted features put them 
out of all semblance of tneir ordinary selves. 
They laughed and laughed until the woods 
rang with the echoes. 
“ Let us retreat and leave bag andliaggage, 
arms and ammunition. ‘ Sauve qui pent ’ is 
the word ! Forward ! March !” said Mr. 
Bates. “ Come along, Doctor.” 
And they partly stumbled and partly 
crawled over the smooth and Blippery rocks 
and waded through the overflowed swamps, 
and the water laden and tangled last year’s 
grass and flags, through which they sometimes 
sank to their middles. And bo they made 
their retreat. 
At the trapper’s camp Barley had rested 
quietly through the afternoon and during the 
night; Josiah keeping watch over him. He 
had built a huge fire on the lake shore as a 
beacon for the guidance of the camper’s should 
they have determined to return. Feeling some 
uneasiness on account of their inexperience 
and the discomfort of the storm, he fre¬ 
quently went out to listen for some sound of 
them. But nothing could be heard but the 
dull sploshing of the ripple on the shore and 
the rustling of the rain as it fell steadily. 
As the thunder storm broke Barley began 
to stir; and after a heavy thunderclap had 
crashed and the distant rolling gradually died 
away, he rose on his elbow and gazed around. 
“Is that you, old man?” he asked. “That 
was a terrible storm, wa’rnt it ? I guess I 
got hit in it, did’nt I ? Or how did I get here?" 
“ I w'as out in it, too. I came to meet you 
and found you under the tree.” 
“Yes; I remember; I got caught in it, 
did’nt I ? Wbat a lucky thing I did’nt get 
hurt. What is my bead tied up for ?” 
“You got it cut a little; but that will be 
all right soon. Don’t undo it. It might bleed 
again.” 
“ But how did I get here, and where was I 
all night ?” 
“Oh, I got you home all right, and you 
bate been sleeping here all night.” 
“Well, thank God, it’s no worse. That was 
the tightest place I was ever in. How I had 
to skip!” 
And Barley got up and stretched himself 
and walked back and forth a little and looked 
out and saw tbe still bare branches with just 
a shade of green from the forward buds be¬ 
ginning to open, as he saw them a year ago, 
and he said, “ I did’nt know it rained. When 
did it rain ?” 
“Just after we got home here,” replied 
Josiah. “But come let’s get breakfast. Here, 
you sit down and don’t bot her me, or I’ll pitch 
you into the lake. You keep quiet. Your 
head is cut and you had better keep still, if 
you know what’s good for you. We’ll get 
breakfast an l then go to get some fish.” 
And the bright warm sun mounted over 
the eastern tree tops, and his beams fell upon 
the sodden ground which steamed and threw 
up a mist which rose a few feet and then 
melted away and disappeared. 
At that moment Josiah, looking out on the 
lake saw the boat grounded on the shore; and 
a great shock choked him and took his breath. 
(To be continued,) 
-» ♦ - 
BRIC-A-BRAC. 
A man’s personality has a powerful, subtle 
influence on all with whom he comes in con¬ 
tact. It will readily be seen, therefore, how 
necessary it is for us to cultivate an agreeable 
personality. He who possesses this attraction 
bolds a mighty power for good or evil. He 
who regulates his life, in its minutest details, 
by high and honorable principles; he who 
adapts himself, bravely and cheerfully, to the 
contingencies arising, ever and anoo, along 
his life-path, will find, after he has reached 
the acme of all earthly things, and begins to 
descend the hights into tbe shadows of the 
valley—death—that life, for him, held some¬ 
thing grand and good. 
- - -- 
Never let your honest conviction be laughed 
down. You can no more exercise your reason 
if you live in constant dread of ridicule than 
you can eDjoy life if you live in constant fear 
of death. If you think it right to differ from 
the times, and make a point of morals, do it— 
not for insolence, but seriously and gravely, 
as if a man wore a big soul of his own in his 
bosom, and did not wait till; it was breathed 
into him by the breath oF fashion. Bo true 
to your manhood’s conviction, and in the end 
you will not only he respected by the world, 
but have the approval of your conscience. 
A certain amount of opposition is a great 
help to a man; kibes rise against the wind and 
not with the wind; even a hard wind is better 
than none. No man ever worked his passage 
anywhere in a dead calm. Let no man 
wax pale, therefore, because of opposition; 
opposition is what he wants and must 
have, to be good for anything. Hardship is 
the native soil of manhood and self-reliance. 
He who can abide the storm without flinch¬ 
ing lies down by the wayside to be overlooked 
or forgo! teD. 
A few strong instincts and a few plain 
rules should govern us, and among them one 
might, if possible, to cherish an undying love 
of truth, not abstract truth, but the every day 
article, which “shall make you free” of 
shams, worldliness, and the artificial and hol¬ 
low politeness which neither deceives nor im¬ 
proves its votaries and its victims. 
Never reflect on a past action which was 
done with a good motive, and with the best 
judgment at the time. 
- 
The Rural New-Yorker will be sent to 
all yearly subscribers from now until Jan. 
1st. 1S84 for $2.00. 
for Women. 
CONDUCTED BY MISS RAY CLARK. 
KEEP NOTHING FROM MOTHER. 
They sat at the spinning together. 
Amt they spun the line white thread; 
One fuo<* was old and the other was young— 
A golden and silver head. 
At times, the young voice broke in song 
That was wonderfully sweet; 
And the mother’s heart beat deep and calm. 
For tier joy was most complete. 
There was many a holy lesson, 
Interwoven with silent prayer. 
Taught, to her gentle, listening child. 
A8 they two sat, spinning there. 
“ And of all that I speak, my darling, 
From my older head and heart. 
God glveth meone last thing to say, 
And with It thou must not part. 
•- Thou wilt listen to many voices, 
And ah! woe that this must be! 
The song of praise and t he Voice of love 
And the voice of flattery, 
” Rut listen to me, my little one. 
There * one thing thou must Tear- 
Let never a word to my love be said 
Which her in other nuiy not hear. 
“ No matter how true, tny darling one, 
The words may seem to thee. 
They are notflt for my child to hear 
If they cannot be told to me. 
" If thou’It ever keep thy young heart pure, 
And thy mother's heart from Tear, 
Bring all that Is said to thee by day 
At night to thy mother's ear.” [Selected. 
CONCERNING CONTAGIOUS DISEASES 
AND FUNERALS. 
MARY WAGER FISHER. 
So much has been said and written latterly 
of the extremely infectious character of scar¬ 
let fever and diphtheria, that it would seem 
that any further warning must be superfluous. 
But it is not so ve^y long ago that an inci¬ 
dent occurred not far from where I write, 
illustrating the wicked folly and apparent 
ignorance of people who would have felt 
grossly insulted at having their common sense 
questioned, that I am led to ut,er warning 
anew. A child had died of scarlet fever, and 
on a Sunday afternoon the parents and friends 
came together to bury its body in a church¬ 
yard. It was proposed to open the coftiu in 
the church where a Sunday school was about 
to be held, but as one of the trustees of the 
church mildly objected, the children and the 
congregation were afforded tbe opportunity 
“to take a look at the corpse" in the church 
yard. The parents of the dead child had one 
living child left, and they lifted her to kiss 
the face of tbe dead one in the coffin. And 
monstrous as it seems, no one interposed a 
word of objection. A little more than a fort¬ 
night later the parents came again to the 
churchyard to bury the body of their last re¬ 
maining child, who had as a natural sequence 
died of scarlet fever. These parentsare dupli 
eated all over the country in fathers and 
mothers who are beset with the idea that un 
less a certain amount of parade and display 
is made over the dead, it indicates a lack of 
affection and respect on the part of the sur¬ 
vivors while in fact it indicates nothing of 
the sort. 
I was in New York last Winter during tbe 
reign of a terrihle epidemic of scarlet fever, 
and had with me my little boy nearly five 
years of age. While there two friends chanced 
to call upon me at the same hour, one was a 
physician and the other was a lady who re¬ 
marked as soon as she came in the drawing 
room, “I have been visiting a friend whose 
children are ill of scarlet fever, but I havn’t 
an article of clothing on or about me that I 
wore there, and I have heeu disinfected.” 
Just then my boy’s laughing face peered in 
at a door, and the physician asked quickly, 
“ Did you have your hair disinfected ? No ? 
Then it will be safest to keep this boy out of 
tbe room,” That infection should be carried 
in the hair was a new thought to ns both, and 
it showed the difference between a physician 
of great intelligence and good sense and the 
average man or woman who is always willing 
to take risks. That it often requires high 
moral courage to guard children properly 
from infectious diseases, I well understand, 
but no person of conscience and good sense 
will ever take offense at a parent’s precaution. 
I sometimes see in obituary columns notices 
of deaths from scarlet fever and diphtheria, 
with the added announcement that the funeral 
will be held “ at the house,” and friends are 
invited to attend ! The case would not be a 
whit more absurd if the death had occurred 
from small-pox or yellow fever. Indeed, be¬ 
tween small-pox and scarlet fever, the former 
is to be preferred, as tbe latter almost invari 
ably leaves the victim with some distressing 
weakness or loss of sense, and diphtheria is 
often as bad. 
In cases of scarlet fever, the children in a 
family, and all members of it who are not in 
attendance upon the sick one, should be thor¬ 
oughly isolated, not only from the sick room 
but from the attendants. Disinfectants should 
be freely and thoroughly used throughout the 
occupied part of the house, and it would be 
but a matter of common safety to destroy all 
bedding and carpeting used in the sick room. 
Of course, whoever cleans it, does so at the 
risk of contracting the disease. Tbe custom 
that often prevails in country places of neigh¬ 
bors “ dropping in ” to see persons who are 
ill from contagious diseases, is in a way crim¬ 
inal. The better sort of sympathy would lie 
in contributing to a fund to hire a nurse, if 
the family could not afford tbe expense. 
In this way of mistaken kindness, untold 
mischief is often done in the spread of dis¬ 
eases. Neighborly sympathy and neighborly 
kindness cannot be too highly eommended, 
but they should be tempered with discretion, 
where there is danger of imperiling the lives 
of others. There are many people who act as 
if they were doing nothing at all to be depre¬ 
cated, in going from the bedside of a scarlet fe¬ 
ver or diphtheric patient to church, to call on 
a neighbor, to the country post-office, or for a 
ride in a rail car, when, in fact, they ought to 
be “ arrested for intent to kill.” 
As regards funerals of persons dead from 
infectious diseases, too much care cannot be 
taken. After one is dead there is nothing 
more to be done for his comfort, and the wel¬ 
fare of the survivors is of far more import¬ 
ance than anything connected with the burial 
service. It is hard to be controlled by good 
judgment when one is overwhelmed with 
grief, but there should always be some one of 
sufficient self-control and good sense to man¬ 
age affairs at snch a time, and see that discre¬ 
tion overrules emotion and feeling. It is true 
that only a very ignorant or thoughtless per¬ 
son would expect his child who had died of 
scarlet fever or diphtheria to be buried in the 
usual public manner. An intelligent parent, 
who not only loved his child but also loved 
and respected tbe welfare of the community, 
would tenderly lay away the dead body, 
alone and with his own hands—if need be— 
rather than that danger should be incurred by 
another child. 
Much of the vulgar display of old time fu¬ 
nerals is happily being dispensed with, but 
there is still a vast amount of danger and -ick- 
ness resulting from them. Standing in a 
graveyard in storms of sleet and rain, the 
feet chilled with dampuess as well as tbe 
whole body—a cutting wind winding about 
you and piercing to the marrow of your bones 
—emerging from the overheated house of 
mourning, or sitting in a draught waiting for 
the procession to form—these and other ills 
attendant upon cold-weather funerals tend to 
shorten tbe lives of many, and persons who 
are delicate should carefully avoid such ex¬ 
posures. A visit of condolence to the be¬ 
reaved family in the lonely days that succeed 
a funeral is worth far more than attendance 
at the burial. 
-*-•--•- 
NOTES FROM THE FARMERS’ WIVES’ 
CLUB. 
At the opening Mrs. Fero took the floor, 
the smallest but by no meaus the least effect¬ 
ive member. Our object, she said, is to de¬ 
vise means to lighten the burdens of farm life 
and increase its attractions, and who are so 
well able to deal with the subject as we who 
have the armor on { 
Outside advice, of which we have plenty, is 
not always practical; neither, to tell tbe 
truth, is it always well received, however 
wise it may be. Those who travel one road 
do not know the stones in another, and ours is 
not tbe only uneven path, but our cares and 
labors being similar, if we each of us contrib¬ 
ute the cream of our experience we may be 
able thus to avoid many of the disagreeable 
things connected with average farm life. 
I do not mean simply recipes for making 
cake or for doing other kinds of housework, 
though they are good in their place, but the 
mental lives we lead—our discouragements, 
our struggles, the hooks we read, the thoughts 
which come to us as well in our working 
as our leisure moments. In this way we 
may make our reunions very profitable as 
well as entertaining. Let no one feel afraid 
to make suggestions as to any part of our 
business. Sometimes the very things we like 
to hear about seem too plain to be spoken of, 
but they may help some one to a new idea. 
Mrs. Jones, who was spokesman at our 
last meeting, then said: “One of my best 
helps has beeu the agricultural papers. Ihave 
found many useful hints in them which have 
lightened my heavy labors very much. One 
little thing I noticed many years ago I have 
practiced ever since. Some woman said she 
always kept a large bag or a basket with 
pieces of every garment that was in wear in 
it, and v henever there was any mending to be 
done the material was at hand ready for im¬ 
mediate use. I have found this practice a 
great convenience. To those who read and 
have an interest in them, the women’s part of 
an agricultural paper becomes a pleasant 
