,A1]S 6 
536 
fore cold weather. I am glad to hear that it 
is valuable in Virgiuia; but I have no reason 
to think it of any use here. w. J, beal. 
Ag. Coll, Lansing, Mich. 
---«-*-" 
for Women 
CONDUCTED BY MISL HAY CLARK. 
THREE DREAMS OF THE FUTURE. 
“Welt,, school days are over, and away with the 
past! 
For each coming day looks brighter than the last! 
That we've toilet! to be learned, all will allow, 
And what has the future In store Tor us now?" 
Thus mused three young friends as they patised by 
the way. 
To talk of their outlook of life's future day. 
And these are the fortunes in fancy they drew 
And proudly held up for each other to view: 
“I have a fortune to gain ere T shall grow old. 
And a name will live longer connected with gold; 
Mau has made gold an Idol, and clings to It yet, 
And when It is won, homage none Will forget .” 
Time wilt move on, and tn cycles " III run, 
And the man may still dream of his fortunes, not 
won, 
And his future may teach that worth Is the call, 
For (he heart and the life makes the man after all. 
“When a few years have passed, you will find that 
my name 
Is written far up, up. In the Temple of Faroe; 
And then, when I am dead and laid in the earth, 
They will point to my grave and tell of my worth.” 
But fame Is a flower that blooms but for few; 
It buds and it falls ere its leaves are in view; 
As the hopes of a llle are the shadows of truth, 
So the fame of the mau ts the dream of the youth. 
“Give to me friends that are faithful and true; 
With lives and with hearts that are pleasant to 
view. 
For friends and a home when we have grown old, 
Are by far more precious than fame, rubles or 
gold.” 
Though clouds may obscure the sun’s cheering 
gleam, 
And dBrken some hopes of our youth’s early dream, 
When our springtime has passed and the Winter has 
come, 
May we have—to cheer us—our friends and our 
home. ulric. 
FARMHOUSE SURROUNDINGS.— WHAT 
THEY SHOULD BE. 
F. K. MORELAND. 
Home adornment is one of the many things 
which does not appeal successfully to the far¬ 
mers minds, or it exerts but a limited influence 
upon the conduct of farmers in general. I 
know farmers who take a pardonable and 
commendable pride in good horses, and with¬ 
out being open to the accusation of fondness 
for fast driving, do not like to take unneces¬ 
sary dust while upon the road. Such a man 
has a great pride in everything connected with 
his horses; they are groomod to a fault, have 
harnesses of the best,conveyances unexception¬ 
able, and stables second only to the farm resi¬ 
dence. Auotber farmer will take pride in 
his dairy. This will receive unusual attention, 
and perhaps is the smallest details while 
everything else on the farm, which is not 
strictly of the most utilitarian character, is 
neglected. Buildings may be kept in a state 
of merely useful repair. No attempt at beauty 
or ornament, simply comfort, which is the 
only end sought to be gained. Farm land may 
be graded, underdraiued, ditched, aud well 
cultivated; stumps aud boulders removed and 
every Held oo the farm well fenced; and 
yet some unsightly objects near the barns or 
dwellings may destroy the effect of the whole. 
We are apt as a class of men to get too well 
used to our surroundings. Unsightly objects 
we pass by without any conception of their 
actual ugliness. I have known a farmer to 
tolerate for years a tumble-down pig sty which 
was more conspicuous than the farm house it¬ 
self, with no attempt made to abate the nui¬ 
sance; all the time ignorant of anything out 
of the way. He was familiar with the old 
sty, which in reality w as an old land-mark. 
To him there was nothing unattractive about 
it; but to strangers and travelers, who could 
give his place but a casual examination, such 
an object was disagreeably conspicuous. 
1 have known farmers tolerate au unsightly 
growth of uuderbrush near the road side or 
along the fences, or a stump or boulder in 
what ought to be the lawn. Very often some 
old shed or outbuilding that has outlived its 
usefulness for any other purpose, is still al¬ 
lowed to remain simply to be used as a con¬ 
venient place to store worn out. tools. To 
make a definite charge of want of good taste 
on the part of farmers, 1 reiterate that farmers 
are apt to let barns, stables, stys, sheds and 
other out-buildings crowd the dwelling house 
aud become so disagreeably prominent as to 
attract more attention and destroy any good 
effect tbut may be produced by the house and 
other buildings which are properly a part of 
the farm house. 1 would uot have an air of 
exclusiveness about any farm house, but l 
would, by all means, keep the common things 
as exclusive as possible. There are matters 
upon the farm which would be just as accept¬ 
able away from the kitchen as crowded into a 
too close neighborhood to it or the parlor. 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
For instance, I would not allow the poultry, 
especially ducks or geese, to have access to the 
lawn or even to the kitchen yard. I would 
not, uuder any circumstances, build a bog pen 
where it could be seen from the bouse, much 
less where any odor would be perceptible. It 
always enhances the appearance of a farm 
house to have not only the poultry yard, but 
also the stock yard, well removed from it, not 
necessarily by distance, but by the arrange¬ 
ment of a hedge or screen of evergreens which 
would hide out-buildings that may be only a 
few yards from the bouse, much better than if 
they were a quarter of a mile away. The 
worst possible arrangement of farm buildings 
is very common, and that is to have the barns 
between the house aud the road. The family 
visitors and business callers must drive past 
the barn and through the yard to reach the 
house, and there is usually such a similarity 
between all these buildings, that a person’s 
love of rural life is decreased. 
I think that roadside fences have much to 
do with the appearance of a country place. I 
know of many farms that have a staked and 
capped fence separating the dooryard or lawn 
from the highway. An exhibition of good 
taste in the matter df road fences is something 
which I think will pay, and I know that much 
satisfaction will be the result. But with all 
my fault finding, I still see much to commend 
in the way of good taste among my farmer 
friends. 1 know of farms on which the barns 
aud farm-houses arelocated with unexceptiou- 
ably good taste. 1 know of farmers who are 
particular to a fault in this respect, and never 
attempt anything until they are satisfied that 
it will look welt. Several of my neighbors 
have erected wind mills for the purpose of 
pumping water for stock. These wind-mills 
usually occupy a permanent position on the 
farm, and the rule has heen to put them up 
as cheap as possible. So the skeleton frame is 
all that is erected, and one cau imagine there 
would be nothing attractive in the appearance 
of such a structure. Now for the exception 
to the rule. One of my neighbors who belongs 
to the class already spoken of as having good 
taste, also erected a wind-mill. The farm was 
located on a public road, frequently traveled; 
the buildings were on the roadside, and from 
its position, the wind-mill could be seen for 
several miles For a very small additional 
outlay, the frame was inclosed with matched 
lumber and painted nicely, making an affair 
that was a credit to the farm, 
I have in my mind a certain farmer who 
has graded hi3 roadside, removing all stumps 
and stones at a small cost, thus giving to his 
roadside the attractive appearance of a lawn. 
Such an innovation upon the established order 
of thiugs can not fail to provoke favorable 
comment. Another farmer has at considerable 
expense planted a row of shade trees along the 
roadside of his farm. Setting slow growing 
trees for shade either on the lawn or roadside, 
has no immediate satisfaction attending it, but 
after a few years, it is a source of much com¬ 
fort and beauty. The manner and place in 
which trees shall be set. is to be determined 
from the effect desired to be produced. A 
blunder in setting trees may not be discovered 
until too late to remedy it, and setting trees 
for future effect is au important matter. In 
planting evergreens or ornameutal trees in a 
yard or lawn, too much carelessness is apt to 
be displayed. It is not enough to purchase 
valuable trees and have a valuable place on 
which to set them. The matter of the adorn¬ 
ing of country places, in all its details, is one 
for our best consideration. A well developed 
taste may enhance the value of a farm 50 per 
cent. No one will deny that it is largely a 
matter of taste that 85,000 is considered a fair 
price aud a good investment for a single high 
bred Jersey. And so in all the details of beauti¬ 
fying country homes. We do many things that 
may not seem to promise us the coveted return 
of six per cent, but we derive, or at least 1 do, 
uutold pleasure from the doing of these small 
tasks, which, if properly done, are a source of 
unfailing pleasure. The difference between 
the actual value of a place upon which a little 
experience, a small amount of cash and much 
good taste has been expended, aud the one 
which has had no effort made in this direction, 
is very great, and plain to be seen by the most 
careless observer. This subject seems to me, 
to be one deserving the most careful study of 
enterprising agriculturists. 
UNOBSTRUCTIVE KINDNESS IS THE 
BEST. 
feared I would not enjoy myself, as I was the 
only old lady present. She had invited sever¬ 
al elderly friends, but some were not at home, 
two were sick, and others could not come. I 
told her I was well pleased with her preseut 
company, and regretted the loss sustained by 
the absent ones who were not within hearing 
of the fine sougs to which we had the pleasure 
of listening. “But,” continued the hostess, 
“didn’t you think the last song awfully silly? 
I whispered to the girls not to sing that piece, 
for fear j r ou would not like it, but they went 
on, regardless of the cousequeooes.” “1 as¬ 
sured her that l was charmed with the melody, 
aud thought the words quite iu keepiug with 
such a lively air. She looked incredulous, 
and asked ‘if there was not some old piece 
which I would like to have the girls sing be¬ 
fore we went to the dining room.’ I told her 
I was perfectly satisfied with the siuging, and 
now preferred to listen to the conversation 
On handing me a cup of tea at the table, she 
said, ‘we like black tea best, but I told my 
daughters to be sure and make some greeu tea 
for you, for I know that old folks always like 
green tea best, but they forgot it. I'll run to 
the kitchen right, away and make some for 
you. It won’t take five minutes, for I love to 
rnuke everybody happy, especially old folks’ 
1 ventured to say: If so, Mrs. Gray, please 
prove it by keeping your seat anil not troubling 
yourself further on my account, as I cannot 
distinguish one kind of tea from another when 
drinking it. A glass of water is quite as re¬ 
freshing to me as a cup of tea. 'You must 
excuse me this time’ she replied ‘but wheu 
you come here again, you shall uot go away 
without having had a cup of good old-fash¬ 
ioned green tea,” I cheerfully excused her, but 
discovered that, she was not aware that the 
greatest kindness you can show elderly people 
is simply to treat them like other people.” 
OUTINGS. 
SOPHIA C. GARRETT. 
When an elderly lady comes into a room, do 
lot rise from the best chair, aud persistently 
irge her to take it. If sbe is well, any chair or 
i seat on the sofa will please her. A genial 
Jrandmu when speaking of what sbe termed 
luperfiuous attentions said: “I did not enjoy 
firs. Gray’s tea party yesterday afternoon as 
ihoroughly as I would have done, had sbe 
jeei> less anxious about my comfort. She 
Aggravating, isu’t it? When you drop 
down on the couch fora momeut’s rest while 
the last loaf is baking; hot aud tired, with a 
visiou before your eyes, not only of the good 
things baked up for to-morrow’s threshers to 
put down, but also of the pile of dirty tins and 
cooking utensils which must be washed and 
cared for before you can take a bath, the clean 
garments aud the breathing spell you covet 
before supper time comes with its labors. 
Isn’t it aggravating ? when, iu this moment’s 
rest, you scau the county paper aud read there 
that your friends, Mrs. A. anil Mrs. B. and 
Mrs. C. have gone to the mountains, the sea 
shore, or around the lakes—just where you 
so long to go—you see them mentally, in their 
fresh, summer robes, cool and neat, taking in 
new life with every breath. 'Ihe contrast be 
tween your life and theirs will be apt to bring 
a few tears, or you will jump up cross and bit¬ 
ter, thinking no one is quite so badly off as 
you are. Even wheu rested, and the sober 
second thought has come, you will hardly be 
reconciled. 
“Pity ’tis, ’tis true,” that the season which 
brings rest aud recreation to many, only has 
added labors for the tanner and his family, to 
whom outings would be quite as welcome 
and as beneficial as toothers. Where there 
are grown up children, or trnsty help, a far¬ 
mer may sometimes be spared for a vacation 
even in the busy season; but this is impossible 
for the masses. W bat shall we do ? 
Well let us keep goodmatured for one thing, 
and couut up our blessings. Among them 
remembering that many things our friends go 
abroad to find, we have at home; such as 
pure, sweet air, shade, coolness, and pretty 
views of earth and sky, if not grand ones of 
sea, mountain or Jake. Then there are outings 
eveu the poorest or busiest may take: a day’s 
fishing, a little picnic, or better still, for us, a 
short trip on the cars, where new faces and 
new scenery are to be seen. Thesearepossible 
and do an imeneuse amount of re-creating, and 
we forget, for a time, ourselves and our cares 
ami worries. 
Men have more variety in the farm work 
than women in the kitchen, aud the little 
gossips over the fence with the neighbors aud 
the necessary errauds to mill and to market 
all break the routine for them. But in the 
harvest season, visiting among women is rare, 
and mauy a weary wife does not avail herself 
of the little rides, elc. she might often have, 
if she would go when the invitation came, 
though it were at an inconvenient hour, when 
she is not ready and the work is undone. Sup¬ 
pose the work isu’t done? Go! Though the 
dishes are left over, or instead of pie the men 
folk eat minute pudding for dinner. All the 
better for the men, and you too. 
If the trip to the mountains or the sea be 
unattainable, we must take the next best out¬ 
ing, eveu though it consists only iu an hour’s 
forgetfulness of care iu the companionship of 
book or paper. But above all, we must get 
out of us the idea that we are unfortunate 
creatures, because of the position God is 
pleased to have us fill among the workers in 
this workaday world. mart mann. 
NEW FANGLED NAMES. 
Everything in this world is so changed, I 
am afraid to speak sometimes when we have 
visitors—oh, I forgot to say “callers.” Now 
they put “mo” onto lasses, and “po” onto 
tater. The girls went to town to lmy stock¬ 
ings and come to find out it was “hosiery’ 
they were after. Now a young man never 
goes courtiu’, they “pay their distresses” to a 
young lady. When I was a girl and your 
grandfather Icabod Snooks used to go with 
me to pick posies and make nosegays, be 
would put’em in a pitcher, and set them on 
the mantle and they looked awful nice, after 
Icahod had sorted ’em out—they call it “de¬ 
ranging them” now. These young Telegraph¬ 
ers, University sttidents, aud College fellers, 
couie into the country now with a big lot of 
boxes and books, and they call picking posies 
“collectin'specimens;” then they tear ’em all 
up by the roots and they have a thing they 
call a “herberrieu,” aud derange the roots, 
leaves and posies in that, and they stroll all 
day loug and have an awful appetite at sup¬ 
per time, while the rest of the day they just 
sit in the shade aud tell the different things 
they know. But they can not explain light¬ 
ning. geology nor bottomy to me. I think it 
is better to keep the good old fashioned words 
and ways than it is to have everything so 
‘ new fangled.” I cannot get used to it. 
MRS. ICABOD SNOOKS. 
BREAKING THE LOOKING GLASS. 
“Martha Gibson, I ain pretty near out of 
patience with you!”said Aunt Jerushasevere¬ 
ly- 
“So long as you are not quite out, auntie, I 
mean to be happy,” said laughing Mattie as 
sbe flourished her feather duster softly among 
the mantel ornaments. 
“Well, 1 think you ought to be anything 
but liappy with that nice spare-room glass 
broken to fliuders. I don’t see bow you can 
go about singing; you'll never thrive in this 
livin’ world if you don t set more value upon 
property'.” 
“1 did prize it, auntie, very highly iudeed, 
for my dear father bought it for tne. I felt 
like crying, until Robert told me to cheer up; 
be would unscrew the frame from the bureau 
and have another glass fitted in as good as 
Dew. So why should I cry. Aunt Jerusha? 
Whole pailfuls of tears wouldn't cement to¬ 
gether the old glass, and crying would make 
us all miserable together. I believe in 
Robert’s settled rule, ‘not to cry over spilled 
milk.’” 
“It is a very shiftless kind of philosophy,” 
said the old lady, contemptuously, “aud no 
good will eve»* come of it to your purses You 
will never learn to be careful of your property 
that way. Now if it had been my case, I 
would have given that girl a sottud scolding, 
which she would have remembered. I will 
yet, if you say so.” 
“Not for money, Aunt Jeru«ha,” said tbe 
other, smiling. “Ill manage Kate myself. It 
was the plainest, kind of an accident, and the 
poor girl is sorry enough over it. 1 will uot 
make her any more wretched than she is. I 
believe in gettiug into the sunshine as quickly 
as possible.” 
“I should say you did the way you slip over 
thiugs. But it considered an awful bad sigu 
to break a glass,” sbe added, solemnly, bound 
to make an impression some way. “It's said 
to be a sure sign of a death ” 
“I knew a gentleman who told me that 
breaking a looking-glass once saved his life. 
He was about starting out in one of his own 
coasting vessels when a looking glass was 
broken in his bouse the morning of sailing. 
His wife took it so to heart that she prevailed 
on him uot to go. The boat was lost and all 
on board. Tbe sign did not work that time, 
or rather it worked just Ihe wrong way for 
the old superstitiou.” olive. 
-• • » 
When we see a good accomplished for 
which we have earnestly labored, it is very 
pleasant if we are able to believe that our 
efforts have influenced or wrought the result. 
1 do not know that it is necessarily vanity 
which gives the feeliug of satisfa etion which 
