THE RURAL HEW-YORJCER 
CiUxaxt), 
TOWN AND COUNTRY. 
GEN. CASSIUS M. CLAY. 
Both have good and evil. Occasionally, 
; icrsons of very limited moans, complain of the 
hardships of the country, and produce com¬ 
parisons of what, would bet lie state of well-to- 
do citizens in towns,when in reality they would 
be forced by poverty into the attic or some 
“five points” of a place in cities. After much 
experience in many nations, in town and 
country, I do not hesitate to say that the 
country is best for rich and poor. With the 
same effort the medium intellect and muscle 
can better bo provided for in the country’ than 
in the town. Fuel, shelter and food, the main 
necessaries, are surely cheaper in the country. 
And if so, that settles the question for man¬ 
ual labor. The city may be the place for the 
accumulation of great fortunes; but less 
money will subserve the purpose of equal real 
luxury in the country. There is u certain 
communism in cities, such as great parks, 
libraries, music, theatres, and all that, accessi¬ 
ble in part to the poorest people. But nature, 
with nil the Fauna and Flora is a greater book 
of instruction and thought. The highest 
works of art cauuot rival nature from whence 
they are feebly copied; aud the chance music 
of opera falls far below in real melody the 
ripple of the waters of streamlets and rivers, 
and the sublime rushing of ocean waves, aud 
electric and windstorms of sea aud land. And 
what artificial exponents of the passions 
which music attempts can rival the voicesiof 
birds and animal nature, the rustling of 
leaves, the pattering of showers, aud tho thou¬ 
sand sounds which aro only heard in the 
groves and fields. 
Tho social developments of cities is more 
showy than satisfactory. City lift; is not fruit¬ 
ful of lasting friend diips; and tho actual 
struggle for supremacy is not favorable to 
humane sentiments. Tho one is the Cnraelia 
with its stately-, pretentious but. cold and 
scentless loaves; whilst the country is the Rose 
of equal beauty', filling the whole air with its 
inimitable perfume. Mau made the cities and 
God the COUutry. Ail the art and genius of 
the greatest minds is tamo in comparison with 
the creations of nature. What architecture 
can rival the eternal rocks and mountains? 
What ornamentations equal tho beauty of the 
tree and shrub aud flower? Here man is not 
only nearer tho Omnipotent one, but shares 
his creative power. In every unimato and 
inanimate thing he has the means of increase 
and variety, aud all things await his care and 
enjoyment in infinite and over vary ing beauty 
and utility'. In cities the individual is dwarf¬ 
ed in the community: in the country tho in¬ 
dividual looms up in all tho freedom aud 
glory of nature. Hence come the great 
thinkers, poets aud orators, divines aud men 
of war. The city' is tho prepared hot-bed, but 
the true seed of greatest growth must be 
dropped into it from tho country. 
The luxury of cities enervates; the luxury 
of the country builds up brain and nerve. 
Here rests the security of liberty, the inde¬ 
pendence of nations. The city rises and falls, 
grows and is swept away by tire, sword and 
decay; but the features of tho country remain 
forever. I return after being absent years, to 
the city; it is no more the same, the old body 
aud the soul are no longer there. I know not its 
streets nor its homes, and the inhabitants 
know me not, themselves unknown, I wander 
over the wido world, I return to the scenes of 
childhood; there are tho same hills and dales, 
mountaius aud pin ms, and eternal features of 
nature are as iu tho days of the years that are 
gono; the trees have grown only iuto more 
lovely development 1 In the forests more sacred 
than temples wrought however grandly' by 
man, let the setting sim of life go down in 
harmony with nature and in trust iu God I 
White Hall, Ky. 
-- 
OUR RURAL. FLOOD TIDE. 
GKN. WM. H. NOBLE. 
Tiiat tide which “taken at its flood” the 
poot says, “leads on to fortune, ” touches 
tho secret of success iu all human affairs. But 
its mere drift lands no man of fortune or re- 
nown. The tide currents need study aud will 
and drill to work them. Of their first swell 
and all their phases you must hold watch and 
word. Master that tide, know ull its eddies 
and shifts aud stretches, or you may get 
bagged in a mud basin or tangled among its 
wrecks and rubbish. 
Battlo’s terrible ordeal has wrought for our 
people a social and industrial oneness. It has 
started our rural future ou the drift of a 
wonderful flood title. Our empire of freedom 
rests on that ououoss and more than all else 
on its rural life. The nation shall live while 
SSI 
tho husbandman joys in a free home, thrift, 
brainful sense, and courage. None of that 
“innumerable caravan gono before” have ever 
looked upon the swell of such a tide as now 
floods towards our country homes. 
What pilot shall guide in this great rural 
drift the oneness of our social and industrial 
future? Who stands ready and posted to coun¬ 
sel about all its homes, its flocks and hords, its 
fields and floods, its homo refinement, more 
active brain aud better culture? 
Why not our inetrojwlitan “Rural?” The 
whole situation is within itsgTasp. All over 
the land the methods of soil culture, the choice 
and cave of farm stock, and materials of en. 
richment are the same, whether you plant the 
orange or the apple, tho potato or the yam, 
raise corn or cotton, care, tillage and manure, 
fill up the chapter of rural thrift. 
Let then our "Rural” in Ibis flood tide pilot 
us to greatness in home and field. 
Bridgeport, Conn. 
for Women. 
CONDUCTED BY MISS RAY CLARK. 
THE NECESSITY OF LOOKING WELL 
AT HOME. 
Often when I have been riding ’’n the 
country, ou a Summer afternoon have I seen 
the farmer's wife sitting in or near the door 
engaged with her sowing—her sleeves tucked 
to her elbows, her hair perhaps uncombed, or 
at best brushed back in the plainest manner, 
her feet in slipshod shoes, and her dress the 
same in which she had worked all the morn¬ 
ing, with perhaps the same apron, and usually 
not over-clean. Her house, if one should enter, 
would probably be found in excellent order— 
clean swept floors, and chairs set back against 
the wall, as if arranged for a funeral, and not 
a thing; out of place. In the cupboard or 
store-room woulif bo found the whitest of 
bread, plenty of toothsome pie and cake, the 
freshest and sweetest of butter, and many 
little delicacies the materials for which nature 
so abundantly' provides, and which the modern 
housewife has learned so well to prepare. Iu 
nothing has she been remiss in her duty to her 
house but on herself; perhaps the most impor¬ 
tant, certainly the most necessary thing iu it 
• she has not spent a thought. She i3 too wearied 
with her labor, and there is a pile of sewing 
and mending waiting to ne done. So with 
perfect self-abnegation she sits down to her 
task till the evening's dairy work, and the 
preparation for supper, with its consequent 
duties closes the day ou her weary body aud 
mind. And so the days pass—one after an¬ 
other—much alike in their sameness, until her 
mind is narrowed dowu to this small routine 
of daily cares, and the thought of "dressing 
up,” to go from home, or to receive company 
becomes almost irksome. Her habits have 
become so fixed that she has never considered, 
that a few minutes spent in bathing face, 
hauds, aud neck, combing the hair iu a taste¬ 
ful and becoming manner, and putting on a 
clean dress with tho addition of a fresh lace, 
or muslin nock-tie, will not only add wonder¬ 
fully' to her self respect, but actually bring 
rest to her weary body and mind. No matter 
if the dress be nothing but print, if it be elean 
aud fresh. For Summer wear, this is usually 
tho best material, as the evening chores must 
necessarily ho done, and with the addition of 
a big apron, one is ready for the work. Prints 
are so pretty aud cheap, that there can bo no 
excuse for uot always having one on hand. 
Aud then the present mode of dressing the 
neck is so pretty and yet so simple, and cheap 
that there is no need of being seen even In the 
morning without a clean, fresh tie or kerchief. 
No frills—no stiff collars, but simply a piece 
of India muslin, or a less costly one cut 
square und hemmed, put on corner wise, and 
tucked into the dress iu front, or if one prefers; 
a strip a few inches wide and of suitable length 
simply hemmed and a few tucks across the 
ends put on for a tie. Four or five such article* 
are all that is necessary. They aro thrown 
into the weekly wash, aud iroued without 
starch. Costly' materials made with elaborate 
care, are uot at all necessary to personal neat¬ 
ness. Tho wife and mother cannot afford to 
go about her house, with a torn or dirty dress, 
neither for the example which it bring>.,n >r her 
own personal self respect There are few hus¬ 
bands so indifferent to the appearance aud 
dross of a wife, as not to foci a glow of satis¬ 
faction, when on coming to the house from hi s 
labor he tin vis her ueatly arrayed, and with a 
smiling face—instead of the slatternly being 
which is sometimes seen. Indeed, 1 think the 
“male man,” as Samantha Alloa would say, 
is naturally very fastidious in this respect- 
Every mau in his younger days not only 
wishes to be dressed himself with a degree of 
care aud taste, but his admiration of the girl 
he loves is largely modified by the care which 
she bestows upon her personal appearance, 
and if in after life, she becomes coarse, aud 
seemingly oblivious to the refining influences, 
which taste, and culture bring, who shall say 
in how large a measure she is responsible 4 The 
wise mother of daughters, will insist 
that each afternoon shall see them not 
only neat and tidy, but tastefully dressed, so 
that in case of unexpected callers, there need 
be no flurry, nor loss of self-respect. This if 
begun in early life will grow into a habit, 
which in time will become so fixed, that when 
she becomes a wife and mother, she will no 
more think of discarding, than the necessary 
ones of eating and sleeping. 
MRS. w. 0. GIFFORD. 
THE BLOUSE—HOSIERY. 
The blouse dress, both for home and out¬ 
door wear, is still very popular for children 
from three to six years of age. They are so 
comfortable, owing to the great freedom of 
action they give the wearers. Light woolen 
fabrics, such as pressed flannel, camel's hair 
and India cashmere, are suitable for "best,’ 
while fancy plaids and checks are very stylish 
for every daj. O nr cut shows a very pretty de¬ 
sign for putting on the trimming, which 
should be of velvet ribbon. For a girl, a dress 
of this style made of cream colored cashmere 
or nun’s veiling, and trimmed with garnet 
velvet, is one of the most showy, and rich in 
its effect. 
It was our pleasure notloug since to be pres¬ 
ent at a children’s hop, given at one of our 
seaside hotels, and among the hundred or two 
of both boys and gil ls, we saw only two hav¬ 
ing on stockings other than black. To be told 
of this color as a prevailing style in hosiery, 
would strike one as being very singular taste 
Fig. 620. 
perhaps, but to see it, only one conclusion 
could be reached—that it was exceedingly sty¬ 
lish These are worn by adults as well. In 
fact, there is no covering for the foot which 
gives such satisfactory effect as black. When 
colors are worn they are the shade of the 
dress or the leading colors in combination. 
Hosiery is a wry expensive item. We quote 
a few of the prices. Those with silk feet and 
cotton tops, are $1 50 per pair, Balbriggans 
and Lisle thread, $1.50 to $3. Cottou, 00 eeuts. 
Qbildrens hose in good qualities cotton, are 
from 38 cents to §1 50 a pair; in Lisle thread, 
from 60 cents to $2.50 a pair; and in spim silk, 
from $ l to $3 a pair. Wo would say en passant 
that a good quality of cotton is much prefer¬ 
able to a cheap Lisle thread for either adults 
or children. c. 
KISSES ON INTEREST. 
A father talking to his careless daughter 
said“ I want to speak to you of your mother. 
It may be that you have noticed a careworn 
look upon her face lately. Of course it has 
not been brought there by any act of yours, 
still it is your duty to chase it away. 1 want you 
to get up to-morrow morning and get break¬ 
fast, and when your mother comes and begins 
to express her surprise go right up to her and 
kiss her on the mouth. You can't imagine 
how it will brighten her dear face. Besides 
you owe her a kiss or two. Away back, when 
you were a little girl, she kissed you when no 
one else was tempted by your fever tainted 
breath and swollen face. You were not as 
attractive then as you aro now. And through 
those years of childish sunshine aud shadow 
she was always ready to cure, by the magic of 
a mother’s kiss, the little dirty, chubby hands 
whenever thoy were injured in those first skir¬ 
mishes with tho rough old world. And then 
the midnight kiss with which she routed so 
many bad dreams, as she loaned over your 
restless pillow, have ull been ou interest these 
long, long years. Of course she is not so 
pretty and kissable as you are, but if you had 
done your share of the work during the last 
ten years the contrast would not have been 
so marked. Her face has more wriukles than 
yours, far more; aad yet if you were sick 
that face would appear more beautiful than 
on angel’s as it hovered over you, watching 
every opportunity to minister to your com¬ 
fort, and every one of those wrinkles would 
seem to be,.-bright wavelets of sunshine chas¬ 
ing each other over the dear face. She will 
leave you one of those days. These burdens, 
if not lifted from her shoulders, will break 
her down. Those rough hard hauds that 
have done so many necessary things for you 
will be crossed upon her lifeless breast. Those 
neglected lips that gave you your first baby 
kiss will be forever closed, and those sad, 
tired eyes will have opened in eternity, and 
then you will appreciate your mother; but it 
will be too late.” 
-- 
CONFORMING TO CIRCUMSTANCES. 
That use is second nature is a truth well 
illustrated by the marvellous power possessed 
by humanity to conform itself to circum¬ 
stances, We readily grow accustomed to the 
most marvellous things. A man who has lost 
one of his limbs, or his sight, or his hearing, 
soon gets accustomed to it, and manages in 
some way to supply the deficiency. Chronic 
individuals get used to lying iu bed and doing 
nothing, and even come to be more or less 
unconscious of pain, if it is of a steady, per 
sistent nature, aud does not rack the body. A 
tired workman will lie down and go to sleep 
in the inside of a copper boiler, while 40 
brawny arms are riveting belts on the sur¬ 
face. because he is used to it. If the noise 
should stop he would wake up. An omnibus 
conductor ■will tell who has paid, aud who has 
uot, let the bustle and crowd In.* ever so great, 
because he is used to it. A blind man will 
tread his way through the streets, turning the 
corners and allowing for the curbstones with 
marvellous facility, because be is used to it. 
A deaf man will find out what is said by 
watching the lips of the speaker and studying 
his expression, because he is used to it. There 
is but one thing we cannot grow accustomed 
to, and that is abuse. No one can bear cal¬ 
umny or ill-usage with calmness: there is a 
limit even to endurance. 
Domestic Qrconomi) 
FROM THE FAIR. 
Well wife, I’m powerful weary, I’ve wa.sed 
about the town 
From early morning yesterday, until the sun 
went down, 
And at the musty tavern, I early went to bed. 
But could not sleep for rattling carts, and 
noises overhead. 
I saw the Exhibition, quite countrified it feels. 
Until you roach the building full of whirligigs 
and wheels. 
Some good machinery there I saw, and else¬ 
where some handsome cows. 
While the horses were good racers as every 
one allows. 
But I didn’t see a pair of steers to beat one 
Blithe and Bess; 
They haveu't old-time farmers’ wives to rear 
’em now' I guess. 
For you had always luck with calves. I think 
they understand. 
Critters as well as men folk, a woman’s gentle 
hand. 
Yes, I went to see the apples, but chanced to 
go at night 
And the fruit looked rather sickly seen by the 
electric light; 
There's nothing like God’s sunshine for fruits 
or dowel's or folk, 
But it didn’t matter to the crowd, that went to 
laugh and joke. 
They go to see each other, and hardly care a 
pin 
For all the fruit or pumpkins the gardeners 
can put in. 
I passed the grounds this afternoon when goiug 
to the cars 
Aud a little boy and girl stood looking through 
the bars. 
And said one unto the other “Johnny I do 
wish so 
I had a quarter for I’d like to go and see the 
show.” 
Wife, my hand went iuto my pocket as quick 
as you could wink, 
And their childish pure enjoyment—I tell you 
made me thiuk— 
For I wondered why the rich men who have 
so much cash to spare. 
Don’t buy a few hundred tickets for poor 
children to the fair. 
It refreshes tho tired eyes that look “look out 
ou the dusty street 
Where is neither tree nor water nor anything 
cool or sweet. ” 
Aud of all that grand State Fair there was 
nothing pleased me so 
As the faces of those children when they first 
saw the show. 
FARMER GOODALL. 
