356 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
MAY 23 
handsomely furnished, even luxurious in 
their appointments, and we expressed our ad¬ 
miration. But our host sighed, as he said, 
“Yes I worked and saved for years to get all 
this, and now I shall have to leave it I guess 
— the girls, they aint contented, aud John 
would do anything to be in the village and I’ll 
have to move there to satisfy them.” Ho 
wonder, I thought, as I longed to tell 
him to build a fire in his furnace and move 
in to the front part of his house, where he 
might enjoy his easy chair, piano and other 
luxuries that be had toiled so hard to win, in¬ 
stead of living the plain barren life he had 
perhaps been obliged to live in his younger 
days, but which there was no necessity for 
now, and his family knew it and were dis¬ 
contented. 
M.y own home never looked so pleasant as it 
did on my return from this visit, I forgot 
the faded carpet and rusty furniture, as 1 look¬ 
ed at the well filled book cases and all the lit¬ 
tle prettmesses, the glowing lire and the al¬ 
most equally glowiDg plants in the windows. 
Alter all there is no luxury so beautiful or so 
satisfactory, as these dear growing things. I 
have nothing rare,only geraniums, carnations, 
callas and ivy, with a few boxes of fragrance, 
—mignonette and sweet alyssum. Yes, I have 
nasturtiums too and I must tell you how I 
manage them. I cut slips from my prettiest 
varieties last Fall, putting each slip in a bot¬ 
tle tilled with water and a bit of charcoal put 
in. The bottles were set in the suu, until the 
roots started and the slips were growing nice¬ 
ly, then I put one bottle inside a vase and set 
in on a bracket in the sunshine; another was 
hung behind a picture so that the plant could 
climb the cords; and others were put in faucy 
baskets, the bottles bidden by moss and lich¬ 
ens. They all grew and have bloomed all 
Winter. The blossoms were smaller, but just 
as bright as they were in the garden, A 
breath of cold air will wither the delicate 
stems and leaves, so I gave the warm places; 
they need no other care except to keep the 
bottles filled with water. 
Friends often say what bright pleasant 
rooms you have and I smile, as l think, they 
’re not nice at all; they 're awfully shabby, its 
just the posies and the “homey” look things 
have that make them pleasant, and no one 
however poor, need be without these. 
UABV MANN. 
A PROTEST. 
In the issue of the Rural dated February 
14, there was an article called “ Farm Life 
and Health” by Philip Snyder, in which he 
says that “farmers work fifteen hours a day 
from April to December,” and that “they are 
not as good looking as city people.” 
It is evident that Philip Snyder is not sound 
in the Agricultural Faith, and it is time that 
such statement should be protested against. 
The farm life that ho describes is no more en¬ 
titled to be called farm life, than is that of the 
wild Indian, whose squaws cultivate a patch 
of corn aud beaDS along the border of some 
timber belt iu the far northwest. Allowing, 
that his statements are drawn from something 
called farm life, it is presumable that he may 
have an observatory on the borders of some 
malarial swamp, where "the shakes” and 
quinine produce some of the characteristics 
mentioned: “angularity of features, hollow 
cheeks and wrinkles, stooping figure, round 
shouldered and hollow chested.” But if he 
will extend his vision to some of our Western 
States, he may seein country school houses, as 
handsome men as ever the sun shone upon— 
round cheeked, broad chested, strong limbed, 
and straight as an arrow; and audiences 
among which are many very well educated men 
—some that are college bred, who till the soil for 
love of farm life; and though they wear a 
bronzed cheek and hardened band, they bear 
about them an inherent Dobility and polish of 
manners, that will not stand abashed before the 
finest of city audiences. 
It is the professions, the counting-rooms, 
the mechanics,and the diverse kinds of drudg¬ 
ery, inseparable froni tlie existence of city life, 
that produces, by far, the greater number of 
bow-backs and round-shoulders. And, al¬ 
though farm life must stand condemned for 
the production of much too large a number 
of greenhorns, yet it has never produced a 
single dude—that species is evolved only 
through the “higher culture” of cities. 
“Fifteen hours a day”—that leaves nine,two 
off for meals, leaves seven for sleep—none to 
live. Simply barbarous! Born and raised,and 
living all my life on a farm, yet have 1 never 
known such a routine of labor practiced as 
that. 
The R. N.-Y. has furnished much valuable 
information as regards “The best ways of 
keeping the boys on the farm.” Now the very 
best way not to keep the boy on the farm, is 
to teach him that farmers, in their personal 
appearances,are befow the average of the rest 
of humanity. The desire for comeliness is in¬ 
herent in the youthful heart, and at the age 
when a boy begins to think what he is going 
to be, and to do in the world, he also begins to 
look in the glass quite often. Sometimes he 
slicks his hair more than three times a day, 
and scours his face at night, “to get the ten 
off,” if a feminine cousin is visiting bis sister. 
Now tell him that be is to work 15 hours a day 
and grow into a hollow cheeked, round should¬ 
ered, crooked backed man, aud soon thereafter 
he will be tying a bundle, while the family 
are sleeping, aud carefully opening the back 
gate, be will pat the shaggy head of the old 
watch dog in mournful “ good-by” with one 
hand while he wipes the tears from his face 
with the other; and muttering, “Well, I vow 
I will never be a farmer,” go forth an expect¬ 
ant merchant or mechanic—doomed to become 
the prey of skilled viliiaus, aud more than 
likely to be wrecked body and soul. Agri¬ 
culture is the most necessary of all pursuits. 
It is the most honorable. It is the most hap- 
pifying. Toese assertions are agricultural 
texts, which may be substantiated by any 
amount of proof; and, until they are disprov¬ 
ed, may, whoever shall write that farmers 
average below any class of persons under the 
heavens, either in looks or actiou, be deemed 
a heretic. Illinois. 
A STUDY OF SPRING. 
Reluctant Spring has come at last; the 
fresh green grass is a refreshing sight to the 
eye. The yellow dandelions smile at us at 
every step, aDd there is a subdued sense of 
buBtle and preparation about everything in 
the country, which is delightfully stimulating. 
The tall, shapely evergreens, the growth of a 
quarter of a century, take on a richer, deeper 
shade of green, as their branches wave in the 
sweet air of May. Violets and cowslips put in 
an appearance along the edges of the streams. 
The lilac bushes begin to put forth green buds 
and leaflets, as if on a strife with other of 
Nature’s beauties to be first on exhibition. 
The change in the looks of the fields after a 
warm rain seems almost magical. 
When the sun shines in the morning, the 
fowls come out on parade, and their noisy 
demonstrations fill the air and give an added 
cheerfulness to the scene. 
Now is the time when house-wives, those 
who simply live to keep house, begin the work 
of demolishing the home, during the interest¬ 
ing period of house cleaning. It seems an es¬ 
sential part of the programme that they 
should try to see how unsightly things may be 
made to appear during that time. In their 
mama for patting things to rights, heedless 
ones often destroy papers of legal value, whose 
loss may hereafter be the cause of serious 
trouble; or mislay things which put the head 
of the house to much ueedless trouble and loss 
of temper. 
But the careful, thoughtful dame not only 
takes time to make a healthful trip out of - 
doors, to enjoy with ever new delight the 
coming beauties of the fields and woods, but 
sits down iu the afternoon to rest, aud im¬ 
proves that time to look over a huge pile of 
letters, which have been accumulating for a 
long, loug time. Carefully she reads each 
one, preserving al I of any value, and lingering 
long over those, which in the past have come 
to her from dear friends now passed away 
from earth. The perusal of these brings a tear 
to her eye and a sadness to her heart, to think 
that so few are left. Memory goes back over 
the early years of life, spent in loving com¬ 
panionship with those dear ones, whose loss 
she now mourns alone. Tenderly she folds 
away these missives which contain so much of 
loving recollection. And as she begins her 
labors again, she feels that the time spent has 
not been wasted, aud that she is a better 
woman for this glimpse into the past. 
VIOLET. 
A WORD IN DEFENCE OF “TINSEL 
GEWGAWS” FOR CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 
Now, grandma, please do not consider me 
rude, or believe that 1 do not think you possess 
good “common sense,” if I attempt to defend, 
by means of a little reasoning, the subject of 
Christmas giving. 
Of course, grandma, you have a right to 
your opinions: that is the privilege of this 
grand Republic of ours, and we not only re¬ 
vere your opinions, but concede to you the 
right to advise whenever you see lit, knowing 
that the experience of “three score years aud 
ten” is full of wealth for us young Rural 
sisters. But the fact of your having expressed 
your opinion does not necessitate our keeping 
silent, does it? 
It seems to me we ought not to accept your 
views, even if you are our superior, until we 
express our sentiments and draw a compari¬ 
son. 
“What does it all meant” you ask. In the 
first place, grandma, are you quite sure you 
know all about it?” that the motive of Christ¬ 
man giviug is generally a selfish one, and that 
it ip sot to pleape the Christ Child. I belle vo -1 
I am telling the honest truth when I say I 
think I never gave a Christmas present—aud 
I give 10 or 12 every year—expecting that it 
would influence the recipient iu making auy 
returns, excepting the Christian feeling of 
love and friendship. Now, my dear grand¬ 
ma, doesn’t this amount to something to feel 
the blessedness of giving? You know Christ 
says “It is more blessed to give than to re¬ 
ceive,” and He doesn’t say whether the gift 
be great or 6mall. 
Yes, “time is money,” but of what use is 
money after providing ourselves with a home, 
food and comfortable clothing, if we keep it 
all ourselves, hoarding it up and getting no 
pleasure from it? You say “there are many 
poor persons needing it.” To be sure there 
are; the world is full of them and we ought 
to help them. But l<eeause they are poor and 
need aid, must we stifle all feelings of love 
toward our friends that would faiu express 
itself in little gifts? If sacrifice in all things 
is a crowning virtue, let us deny ourselves the 
pleasure of giving to our friends and rela 
tives, because they have enough and do not 
need our gifts. 
But you say, if you give, give useful things. 
By all means; butremember a farmer’s daugh¬ 
ter’s purse has a bottom to it, and it is not 
very far down either. We are obliged to 
give only one or two moderately expensive 
presents, or divide up and get several inex¬ 
pensive ones. Books are nice gifts, but we 
cannot all afford to buy them. If we desire to 
give something fora “keepsake,” an “apron 
or pair of stoc kings” are not any better than 
a hair receiver so far as the durability is con¬ 
cerned, for they both wear out if put to use, 
the former much sooner than the latter, and 
besides, little, simple articles such as hair- 
recievers, watch cases, slipper cases, and 
the numerous other cases that go to make up 
the list of objectionable “fandangoes and 
gewgaws” are not nearly so expensive as 
aprons, stockings, mittens and books. Thus 
you see we can call forth grateful feelings 
from more persons with less money. 
The Mrs. Jacksou you cited as an example 
is an exception to the general rule; her better 
nature failed to be moved by the little tokens 
of affection. No doubt in her haste to destroy 
the “trash” she burnt thousands of stitches 
that were wrought by love. It seems to me 
these little homemade articles are worth far 
more as mementoes than boughten ones, for 
the very reason that loving hands have made 
them. 
Is it wasted time to make grandpa a case to 
hang in some warm, convenient place, that 
his slippers may be out of the reach of baby’s 
mischievous bands and where they are always 
ready for use? 
Is it a waste of time to fashion a bright 
little pocket that your glasses, grandma, may 
hang where you can find them when wanted? 
Is it a waste of time to prepare papa's shav¬ 
ing papers and thus save him the trouble of 
hunting his own? 
Is it waste of time to make mamma a hair- 
receiver where in her hurried morning toilet 
she can deposit her combings instead of being 
obliged to run to the fire to hurn them and 
then back again to wash her hands? 
Lastly, doesn’t it amount to something to 
keep the great ocean current of love at blood 
beat, that our hearts may not lie chilled by 
this cruel, selfish world? 
Dear grandma, won’t you please consider 
this subject again and see if you don’t think 
that these simple tokens amount to some¬ 
thing? DRAXY MILLER. 
Domestic Ceemowi) 
CONDUCTED BY EMILY MAPLE. 
SCOURING BOARD NO. 2. 
The above cut shows a board for scouring 
knives, and is, I think, superior to the one 
figured in the Rural of April 11, or auy 
other that I have seen. It is 20 inches long 
pii.scdtancous 
IT IS VERY EASY 
To restore painted walls and woodwork to their original fresh¬ 
ness, if you will take a pailful of tepid water, two sponges, and 
a cake of Ivory Soap. Apply the Soap with one sponge, and 
remove the soap and dirt with the other, rinse the latter fre¬ 
quently, and change the water often. Ordinary soap is apt to 
be too highly chemicalled to use on paint. The Ivory Soap is 
mild, but very effective. 
If your grocer does not keep the Ivory Soap, send six two-cent stamps, to pay the postage, 
to ifi-octer & Gamble, Cincinnati, and they will Mild yen fm a large cake of Ivory Si>ai\ 
