JUNE 0 
THE RURAL. MEW-VOMER. 
To tell all the experiments, to tell truthfully 
“how” it was all done, would make a valuable 
addition to an Agricultural Report; and the 
tale of how the little house was papered and 
fitted out with home-made furniture, if told, 
would destroy many a flourishing upholster¬ 
ing business. It is enough to stand upon the 
front porch, softly shaded by green hop-vines, 
and to look over the modest, well-kept acres, 
across the river and meadow muds, beyond 
the pine-clad mountains blue with distance, 
to the glorious snow-crowned Buttes rosy 
with the early sun. It is earl}', to be sure, 
not more than half-past five, and for once we 
were moved to rise before breakfast. As we 
stand there the two girls in their “neat but 
not gaudy” morning costumes walk down to 
the orchard. The boys, Tom Gordon and 
Pen Carew, have come to spetal the vacation 
with the landed proprietors, as they are fond 
of calling their sisters. Of course, as becomes 
boys and brothers, they criticise, suggest im¬ 
provements, smile indulgently ut some notable 
success, but redeem themselves by consenting 
to help pack the fruit: hence they were en¬ 
dured. They made a pretty, merry group as 
they four w'alked down to the strawberry 
beds. The girls wore dark blue calicoes made 
simply for convenience in rimuiug around, 
and broad straw hats covered t heir beads and 
faces and about an acre besides. ’Tis true 
they did give one a l’aint sensation as of be¬ 
holding mushrooms, on account of the plat- 
orm-like brims of the hats, hut no one would 
have thought of it again if Tom had not 
called Fern’s attention to the “fungus company 
they were in.” “Ton my word, Sis,” said 
Tom. taking his sister's arm, “T never had the 
privilege of walking with a mushroom before 
in all these fifty or sixty years.” 
“Nor shall you now.” returned Alice; “I’ll 
beat you r unni ng down to the river,” and tak¬ 
ing oir the hat she was away before Tom had 
time to beg Fen to “excuse his sister as she 
was from the* country.” The boys were bright 
and lively, and stirred up their sisters to new 
feats of energy and perseverance by bringing 
a change and any quantity of college gossip; 
they were both Sophomores at Berkeley. 
Tin r ing these two yearn Alice has become 
famous for her choice roses, and her fine flower 
garden is considered by the population gen¬ 
erally as a useless piece of extravagance; but 
somehow the villagers will buy her cuttings. 
A couple of rooms have been added to the 
house this season, and there are two summer 
boarders wbo make a pleasant change in the 
society of the neighborhood. This particular 
Summer au old college friend of the girls’ lias 
come to the farm and has been urging the 
girls to make fruit preserving a part of their 
business. She has volunteered to assist m the 
process, ami has suggested that it w'ould be 
profitable to make contracts with the hotel 
keepers and mining superintendents for can¬ 
ned fruits and canned corn and tomatoes. It 
lias been favorable received by those persons, 
and the first, trial is to be made this season. 
The girls have had some experience in pre¬ 
serving fruit for their own use, so probably it 
will ]>rove a success. 
Ami you think this is a chronicle of successes 
with the failures left out; But there were no 
very notable failures. Alice aud Dorothia 
had sense and education, energy and patience, 
so they were bound to succeed. They had 
sound constitutions, and the outside work did 
not make them coarse, but stronger. Then 
they did not make the mistake of starting 
without sufficient capital, but they began on 
a cash basis and did not look for any profit 
the first year. 
This little account show's what can be done 
by Western girls on Western soil. And m these 
times when women are asking, “What can we 
do'” we are moved to reply, with a conviction 
of the possibility of it, “be a small fanner.” 
Florence Bartling. 
-.* 
BOOKS RECEIVED. 
The Scientific Angler, by the late David 
Foster. Compiled by his sons, and edited 
by William C. Harris, Orange Judd Com¬ 
pany, Publishers. Pages, 247, Price, $1.50. 
David Foster, the author of this work was 
a well-known angler in England, anil was 
both observant and practical. This volume 
treating as it does almost exclusively of 
English fish and fishing must be of less 
interest to the true American angler than it 
would have been had it contained more relat¬ 
ing to our ow n fish and fishing. Otherwise it 
is a most commendable work. 
New England Bird Life: Being a Manual 
of New England Ornithology. Revised and 
edited from the manuscript of Wuifrid A, 
Stearns, member of the Nutted Ornithological 
Club. etc. By Dr: Elliott Cones, U. Si A:, 
Member Of the Academy, etc. Bart 2. Non 
Oscine passeres, birds of prey, game and 
water lards, illustrated; price $2.50. This 
is a volume uniform with that published in 
1881, which treated of Sihgiug birds: 'No 
library should, he eenjideri^ by without 
these volumes. They are a complete Ency¬ 
clopedia of New Englaud Birds. 
God’s Acre Beautiful, or The Ceme¬ 
teries of the Future, by W. Robinson. F. 
L. 8. published by Scribner and Welford, 
New York. Pages 152. Illustrated, A work 
devoted to the discussion of the desirability, 
etc., of adopting the cremation process with 
dead bodies, and the promotion of urn burial. 
Although the sanitary reasons are the ones 
usually used in upholding the cremation sys¬ 
tem, the writer of this book discusses the ques¬ 
tion iu an entirely different light, viz: the 
.'esthetic one. 
The Sailing Boat and its Management. 
by C. E. Prescott. Published by the Orange 
Judd Company, New York, Price 50 cents. 
This little volume of 50 pages is offered to the 
public as a treatise founded almost entirely 
upon the practical experience of the writer. 
Part of it is given up to a discussion upon the 
sailing boat, consisting of many comniou- 
senso suggestions: the balance to a Nautical 
Vocabulary Weather Indications, aud Racing 
and Racing Rules. 
Through one Administration, by Frances 
Hodgson Burnett. J. R. Osgood & Co., Pub¬ 
lishers, Boston, Mass. Price $1.50. All who 
have read that very interesting book, “ That 
Lass o’ Lowrio,” will not lose the chance of 
reading this story, by the same author. 
for iUomcff 
JON DUCTED BY MISS RaV CLARK. 
DINING IN THE OLD TIME AND THE 
NEW. 
MRS. SARAH ROWELL. 
It was the home of a well-to-do farmer. 
Five stout, athletic sous, and six rosy-cheeked 
girls, the good mau and his wife Composed the 
family. Three of us Cousins were invited to 
spend the day. We hail enjoyed u pleasant 
forenoon, going from the cheese room, where 
we watched the process of wheyiug off the 
curd, scalding and salting and putting in 
the capacious hoop and from there put into 
the press: w hen there w as nothing more to be 
seen there, we went to the spinning room, 
whole two of the girls were doing their day’s 
work at the old-fashioned wheel and another 
was weaving cloth for the Wniter’s wear of 
the family. They were a busy household, 
(this was 55 years ago and young people were 
brought up to work). At just H o'clock the 
dinner horn blew a tremendous blast and we 
all made a rush for the kitchen sink, so as to 
get washed before the men came iu from the 
hay-field. There was a long table set in the 
middle of the kitchen: a snow-white cloth 
covered it. and the dishes were blue and 
white crockery. There were Hi of us sal 
down to the hospitable board. Iu the center 
of the table was a large pewter platter piled 
full of potatoes, boiled pork, salt beef aud 
boiled cabbage. On the right of the platter 
was a large brown earthen pan full of stewed 
green peas, and the lumps of golden butter 
were floatiug over the surface. They looked 
aud swelled delicious. A tin dipper with a 
long handle lay on the edge of tin* pan for 
use. There were six blue quart mugs set 
around for drinkiug vessels; there was a black 
quart bottle of vinegar, two earthen salt- 
collars. a tin pepper box, and a mustard pot 
with a pewter spoon in it. There was u red 
tin bread dish with large slices of brown 
bread and a platter oi slices of wheat bread 
a groat ball of butter, a generous plate of 
cheese and a stack of doughnuts. The knives 
and forks were steel w ith ljiiekboru handles. 
There was enough of everything, and every¬ 
thing was good. After the head of the family 
pronounced a blessing we all sat down aud 
helped ourselves to w hat we could t ouch and 
what we wished that was not within arm’s 
length the one nearest to the desired article 
helped us. It w as u bouutifui table and wo 
ate with a relish. There was very little con¬ 
versation during the whole meal. The father 
usked if the hay would be ready to go in after 
dinner, and the mother inquired how near 
done the girls had got their stints aud bow 
much Bets} had woven that forenoon? No one 
was let off from their tasks because there was 
company. When all were through eating we 
rose from the table and “thanks’ were re¬ 
turned; then each one carried their ehah to 
their places, and us 1 sat mine dow n I glanced 
at the tall clock in the corner aud it lacked a 
quarter of one. When the clock struck the 
table was all cleared off aud the boys were all 
off to work, and the girls went to their wheels 
and loom and we w ent to see the chooses iu t he 
back buttery. This dinner was at the table of 
one of the first men in point of wealth, in¬ 
fluence and position in the county. Fifty-five 
years laid rolled by, the broad acres of Judge 
Langdeii hail descended to his elder sun The 
old inHii Uh'i Ids wife/ laid peacefully by 
ide iu the village churchyard. The boys aud 
girls were all scattered in different States of 
the Union, saving three who had finished their 
life’s work. By virtue of kinship 1 was in¬ 
vited to visit, the old homestead. I would 
never have recognized the house. Inside and 
out it was completely metamorphosed, and 
had it not been for a familiar look at. the dis¬ 
tant, hills, seen through the window', 1 should 
have thought I had gone to the wrong place. 
Hardly had I laid my wraps aside when two 
dainty young ladies entered the parlor. They 
were elaborately dressed, aud supposing them 
to be guests, I felt a little ashamed of my cash- 
mere aud plain collar; but, no, they were the 
daughters of the house come iu to receive an 
introduction to their father’s cousin. Their 
mother excused herself to see to the dinner, 
aud they remained to entertain me. Their 
father soon came iu 1o greet me, aud the time 
flew' by quickly until dinner was announced. 
Where shall I commence? The old kitchen 
was the dining room; au extension table, was 
spread with a damask cover, and silver and 
glass glittered all over it-, silver knives and 
forks, casters, salts, spoons, goblets aud what, 
not. There were little bits of bread, little 
bits of butter on little bits of plates, and t he 
knives and forks and a spoon were all set up 
just so, with a napkin top of them. After we* 
were seated, the lad}' jingled a bell, and in 
filed three servants, bearing plates of soup. 
Presently two young men came iu and took 
their places at the table; then a lad came 
rushing in. and they were introduced as the 
sons. They kept up a stream of talk till the 
tinkle of the bell summoned the servants to 
remove the plates and bring iu the next course. 
It was a splendid turkey, and it looked aud 
tasted uice; two or three kiuds of vegetables 
served as a relish, I had been rifling a loug 
distance, and so hud a good appetite. I was 
just thiuking about asking for another slice of 
fowl, when the bell jingled aud the servants 
made a dive and took my plate and knife anil 
fork from under my nose and bore them off 
into the invisible regions. Then came a saucer 
of pudding, thou plates with pie of two or 
three kinds, with more silver forks; then coffee 
in elegaut cups, and two cake baskets with 
various kiuds of cake, were passed around and 
then put iu the center of the table. There were 
lots of fixiugs that I had never seen before, 
aud have not the least idea of what they were 
composed, or what they were designed for. I 
believe the lust course however, was tooth¬ 
picks. I was waiting for the lady to give the 
signal fi;>r rising when there came a rush, as 
of many foot, and a door flew open and live 
children earuc bouncing into the dining room, 
much to the disgust of the young ladies and 
gentlemen, who made a precipitate retreat to 
the parlor. I soon followed them, and glancing 
at the little French clock on the marble man¬ 
tel, saw that we had passed two bours-nud-a- 
half at. the dinner table. My mind reverted 
to the loug years ago, and I could but reflect 
upon the contrast of the two dinners, aud ques¬ 
tion whether the change is an actual im¬ 
provement. 
J well remember, ill the Winter of 1S24 my 
mother, brother, aud myself were crossing thu 
Green Mountains in the stage coach. About 
noon wo stopped at the Stage House for diu- 
ner, and to change horses. The dinner was on 
the table when thecoaob stopped, aud us soon as 
wo had arrived we went, in company with four 
other passengers, into the capacious kitchen 
where the table was laid. There was a lar ge 
brown earthen pan in the center of the table 
filled with beans; on a pewter plate by the side 
of the pan, was a chunk of baked pork; on 
another plate of pewter was a pile of brown 
bread; a big brown pudding dish contained a 
baked Indian pudding; there was a pitcher of 
cider on the table and two pewter mugs, a 
clam shell, or something like it., with some 
salt; and a tin pepper box, a handles mug 
with sotue vinegar. The plates were of w ood 
and not very round, or white either. There 
was a wooden paddle to dip the 1 toons and 
pudding out with; and a big kitchen knife to 
cut up the pork; we children had some little 
pewter spoons to eat with, and I suppose there 
were knives and forks for older ones, but do 
not remember. As we nte breakfast, before 
daylight, we were a hungry set. Each one 
laid to and helped themselves, our mother 
giving us our rations. It warmed us and sat¬ 
isfied our hunger, and we went on oiu* journey 
fed and comforted. Last Summer I took the 
same route, und ate dinner at the same place, 
although everything w as changed. There was 
a nice dining room, a handsomely set table, 
with all the et cetera of fashion. Four courses, 
viz: sou]>, roast beef aud vegetables; rice pud¬ 
ding, pies, tea and coffee, aud everything that 
a famished traveler could desire. The land¬ 
lord said his lather kept the stage house over 
50 years, aud lie hocl succeeded him; and he 
had lived there all his life, but could reindn- 
ber when nil tin* dinner they could furnish a 
traveler was a pan of mush aud milk; all eat¬ 
ing from the same pan with woodeu spoons, 
gintp> « contrast between old hod m** w 
THE MONTH OF ROSES. 
BY AN ENGLISH ROSE GROWER. 
IF there must be crazes in the world—and 
the majority of us hav e loug ago made up our 
minds that that is an inevitable concomitant 
of human life—wo take it that a craze about 
roses is as good and innocent a hobby as old or 
middle ages could indulge in. What does not 
this fancy do for one? It is not, easy to exag¬ 
gerate. its good effects. We believe that, there 
are few human agencies more potent in cast¬ 
ing out the old Adam, iu cleansing and beau¬ 
tifying a world-worn nature, than the love 
of dowel’s. 
It. is like literature or learning—it, “polishes 
men’s maimers and does not permit them to 
bo fierce”; or to borrow Mr. Matthew Ar¬ 
nold’s translation of this Latin Grammar Dig, 
it tills them w ith “sweetness and light”: yes, 
and with health, kindliness aud forbearance, 
which wo have not always found in the com¬ 
pany of Mr. Arnold’s literary graces. Curi¬ 
ous it is, to six' the transformation which w ill 
come over the man who has caught the rose 
fever at a show, or from looking too often over 
a neighbor’s fence. How rapidly his whole 
nature and habits change. Once seized he 
riseth early; he retireth late. He fcaketli time 
by the forelock every morning: lie is ever 
busy and bustling, watering, dibbling, cut¬ 
ting. bending about his delicate darlings. If 
he continues to smoke, it, is as he expresses, 
only iu order that the roses may have the 
benefit of the fumes, and that the insects 
which prey upon bis treasures may be de¬ 
stroyed. We would say to the friends of the 
stricken mau—expect an important change in 
the entire ways of the victim of this malady 
when at its bight. His family may look for his 
arrival from town half au hour earlier than 
usual; ho has furtively slipped away from his 
business in order that, he muy linger for a lit¬ 
tle while beside his I’erle des Jardins or Gloiro 
de Dijon. The newspaper, the magazine, the 
fireside chat, whist, chess, the circulating li¬ 
brary novel, arc forgotten when the fever 
rages worst; aud we have all known unhappy 
victims who at. five o’clock were routing out 
their still more unhappy gardener, and who 
returned excited, damp, dirty and tired at 
eight in the morning, to announce to a too 
phlegmatic family circle how the roses bad 
passed the night. There is at present a great 
frenzy on the subject raging in society, which 
iu some respects reminds oue of the fabled 
tales of the tulip-mania. AU of us, probably, 
know clergymen who have practically no cure 
but that of the roses which form t he glory and 
splendor of their gardens. Wo may have 
known, too, wealthy merchants with not a 
spark of sentiment iu their business, and who 
never had a taste in their life not lucrative, all 
at once begin to display a tenderness and gen¬ 
erosity toward their garden favorites, with 
which we would not be inclined to credit their 
mercantile bosoms. We confess t hat there is 
not much to ho wondered at in ull this. 
Earth has, perhaps, few fairer things than the 
garden rich iu roses of every hue, from the 
gorgeous “Reynold’s Hole,” black as night 
and almost as majestic, and the imperial pur¬ 
ple of the “Emperor of Morocco,” to the 
snow charms of “Madame Lnchanno.” Such 
flowers are the poetry of gardening. Over 
the poorest plot, of earth, ill-tended, meanly 
planned, they throw a splendor and a pomp 
which no eye eau miss; and when, as some¬ 
times happens, there is an old garden rich in 
natural or ancient beauties, with massive an¬ 
tique Hollies and stately trees here and there, 
and ample aud proudly-rising terraces, with 
walks that turn this way and that—when, in 
such a gaiilen as this, the lover of roses may 
work, and plant, and nurture Ids treasures— 
what is there which the visionary eye of poet 
has seen fairer or more entrancing? The 
straying visitor makes a turn, aud lo! his eye 
is greeted with a rush of pink such as Mr. Les¬ 
lie delights to place iu his pictures of ethereal 
feminine beauty. Here a sulky beauty, black 
and splendid, peers out; and here, again, is a 
sheet of varied colors fairer than the asphode- 
lian fields, the fabled haunts of vanished he¬ 
roes—true “primrose puthsof dalliance” Even 
amid the artificial accessories of u rose garden 
there are few more beautiful things than those 
banks and tiers of garnered beauty—the air 
heavy with intoxicating scent, and the eye 
glutted with the splendor that mocks the pow¬ 
ers of the brush. Wn confess, however, that 
t here is another side to the matter, aud that, 
like most absorbing pursuits, rose-growing has 
its drawbacks. A man cannot do two things 
veiy well. If he produces in June or July a 
peerless bouquet of well-formed Marochal 
Niels, bis family circle must not complain if 
lie lias neglected his business or shunned some 
of the domestic Joys. One cannot, we repeat, 
do two things well, especially if one of the two 
lie ruse grow jug. 
If a clergyman takes up this craze and we 
somehow or Other huve cuius** lo regal'd the 
matter as a peculiarly clerical bbtuoatiolij hi* 
