408 
FHE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
JUNE 13 
and the cause of the ominous quiet that pre¬ 
vailed, I took a chair on the other side of the 
fire, and all was revealed. The kitchen stove 
was literally crammed with wood and glowing 
coals. On one side sat “Virginia Ella Jane,” 
toasting her feet and holding her jaw with her 
long bony hand. That poor jaw! with its per¬ 
petual ache. She has but few enjoyments, 
and one is to croon dirga-like music as she 
goes about her work that is always well and 
faithfully done, and it is her soul’s satisfaction 
to attend a real good funeral and ride in a 
carriage. Lina—that limb of mischief—wear¬ 
ing a smile across her face like a full sunrise, 
had fitted out two of the company with horse 
shoes hung by a wire to be tapped with a sil¬ 
ver fork, and was trying to make another 
stop her “laffin" and pucker her rosy lips over 
the edge of a wide mouthed bottle. *‘Jalius,” 
her husband, who had just finished polishing 
his concertina with a silk handkerchief, when 
all was ready led off with the air. while Lina 
followed with the “basso-profundo” in perfect 
time by rubbing the rounded end of the 
broom stick on the pantry floor. I surren¬ 
dered myself to what was coming, for 
though I well knew that fuu for themselves 
was in the ascendant, they expected to shorten 
the hours and chase away my loneliness with 
their “jug baud concert.” The “Hen cackle” 
was the opening piece, an inimitable imitation 
of an industrious barnyard Biddy’s song after 
a successful stroke of business iu her particular 
line. This was followed by the “Arkan3aw 
Traveler” and other instrumental pieces, each 
announced by Lina from her kneeling position 
in the pantry. At last after having worn a 
shiny spot oa the floor, and the end of the 
broom stick was badly flattened, part first of 
the programme came to an end, and they drew 
their chairs around the fire for a good old- 
fashioned “singing.” 
There was no arrangement as to programme 
in this, but “Moonlight ou the Lake” followed 
by “Never to take the horseshoe from the 
door," along with church pieces like 
“Baptist! Baptist is my name 
bapt ist till I die," 
“Wasn't that hard trials (treat tribulations,’’ etc. 
“The sun rose enrlv in the morning 
Behind the yellow corn. 
Darkles all take warning 
Wbeu Plinth blows the horn.' 1 
Then the parting song that seems to tear the 
heart strings of the siogor: 
“I’m going from the cotton fields 
Good old George." 
And one that I am tempted to give your 
readers, as it may be as new to them as it was 
to me. 
“In the evening hy the moonlight, you could hear us 
darkles singing; 
In the evening you could hear those banjos ringing. 
How the old folks would enjoy It—they would 8ft all 
night arni listen, 
As we Bing in the evening hy the moonlight. 
Uncle Gahe will take Ihe fiddle down 
That hangs upon the wall. 
That's the only time we have to spare to have a 
little fun, 
As we slug it; the evening hy the moonlight.’’ 
This was no white lace, satin fan. pearl and 
gold opera glass affair, but it was full of soul 
music and pathos, and I enjoyed it from the 
opening to the finale, which was a “good night” 
song reudered in a tone just above a whisper. 
I thanked them for their kiud intentions and 
the evening’sentertaiument. mater. 
“I’Ll. TELL YOU YOUR FORTUNE. PRETTY MAID." 
“I'll tell you ‘your fortune,’pretty maid!” 
“You may, If you tell It true.” 
“Well, T can see that you love right well 
A lad lu sailor’s blue. 
A sailor lad with a bright black eye, 
Anri a heart both kind and strong.” 
“Nay, gossip.” she said, with a merry laugh, 
“You never were further wrong. 
“The lari I love has n bright blue eye; 
A tetter lad never was born. 
He Isn't to match behind a plough, 
Nor yet in the hay or corn. 
He never was In a tossing ship; 
He never was near the sea; 
nts home, It stands In a Held of wheat. 
And under an apple tree.” 
“A farmer boy! And you love him well? 
Ah, that Ik a better fate. 
Just cross my hand, and I'll tell you, child, 
How long you will have to wait 
Ere you shall smile at the wedding ring. 
And the bridal morn shall see. 
And go to the home lu the wheat field 
Set under the apple tree. 
• It is not lung, If the stars speak true— 
And when do they speak lu vain?— 
You will marry the farmer boy you love 
When the Summer comes again ” 
Then merrily rang a mocking laugh— 
“Ah, gossip, how little you know! 
For my farmer boy and I were wed 
A year and a half ngo! 
“Whatever of good may come to us, 
Whatever grtef or 111, 
Comes not from any planet or star— 
It comes from our Futher's will. 
The Joy or sorrow of the future years 
No mortal can ever show; 
He kuoweth the way that we shall take, 
Aud that 1 m enough to know.” 
LILLIE E. BABE. 
THE SILENT INFLUENCES OF BOOKS. 
MAY MAPLE. 
“How much we are influenced by what we 
read,” said 1 to a friend, as I laid down a 
“weli-tbumbed” book upon the table iu her 
cosy parlor. 
“Yes, indeed we are. That book,” said she, 
“is one of the many gifts which 1 received in 
my school days; and of them all, that one is, 
and always was. prized the most I have read 
it ti any times. But I remember when 1 read 
it the first time. 1 mentally resolved to become 
as nearly as possible like the leading character 
therein produced, and if I ever was bles ed 
with a family of children, they should be 
brought up hy that standard of excellence. I 
found much to contend with in my own natu¬ 
ral disposition; and when a family was mine, 
there were two of us to hold governing reius; 
each having a theory to put into practice. 
Of course, under such circumstances, we were 
not likely to pull together, so 1 quietly 
dropped out of the outward appearance of 
holding the reins ” 
“But I fancy you did not forget to use a 
sileut influeuce for the right, judging from 
present appearances,” said I, as a manly little 
fellow came quietly into the room, dotflug his 
hat to mamma and her guest; jtassiog the 
compliments Of the day with as much dignity 
as those of larger growth. 
Presently the little boy went out to play, 
and we resumed our frieudly chat. “I think 
Clair is improving somewhat. He goes to 
school and chances to have teachers who. un¬ 
wittingly, second my ideas of government. I 
think we shall all get aloug very well without 
showing by wrangling controversies how 
much or how little we govern. ” 
1 thought the lady-mother had very much 
to encourage her in her quiet faocy; for I re¬ 
membered when the little Clair was a perfect 
little tyrant, aud as rough and snarling as 
some wild animal —all from over-indulgence 
on his father’s part. It must have been a dis¬ 
couraging outlook to a mother who had hoped 
to see her children growing up to be models 
of propriety. 
But the quiet influence of a well ordered 
mind, together with gentle ways and good 
reasoning powers, W'ere fast winning their 
way to the child’s heart. True it was that he 
was a fond mother’s hope and pride, aud no 
less the delight of his father, who would have 
been greatly surprised if one accused him of 
spoiling bis child for the first half dozen years 
of his lit”. 
“Constant dropping will wear a stone,” so 
will good influences, from whatever source, 
round the sharp edges, aud help) to straighten 
the most wayward and obstinate child. 
Irish Hopeful. 
A PLEA FOR BABY. 
Don’t cover the baby’s face so that he will 
sleep a long time. The sleep induced by 
drowsiness caused by impure air is not Hum 
ber. It is a temptation to mothers who have 
so much work to crowd into the day. to take 
every reasonable method to purchase ft few 
hours' respite from baby's call for attention. 
But when he wakens fretful and crying there 
is really but little time gained, aud that at 
the expense of the health of the little one. 
Oumfstic Ccmtoim) 
CONDUCTED BY EMII-Y MAPLE. 
HOUSEKEEPING ON PUGET SOUND. 
NO. I. 
MARY WAGER-FISH KR. 
When we left home last June, it was with 
an indefinite plan to spend the following Win¬ 
ter in California; but as circumstances seemed 
to favor a longer sojourn on this northwest 
coa^t, we were led to consider the feasibility 
of wintering either iu Portland or Seattle, and 
as healthfulness of climate was of paramount 
importance, the “Queen City” of the Sound 
country possessed certain advantages iu the 
way of clinmte over Portland, so that we de 
cided to spend the Winter, or at least a part 
of it, in Seattle. The question then arose, how 
we should live in order to secure quiet, free¬ 
dom, aud above all, the liberty, room aud 
comfort of home life for the laddie. At first, 
we took furnished lodgings, where we had 
pleasant rooms aud a play-ground for the 
youngster; but wo soon tired of going out for 
our meals, while the laddie would often sit. 
down solitary and aloue, and make his supper 
on a bowl of bread and milk in our sitting- 
room, rather than go out to dine with us at a 
hotel. Occupying a suite of three or four 
rooms under our own, were a gentleman and 
his wife who “kept house,” aud the smell of 
the coffee and the appetizing odors from the 
lady’s kitchen, which ascended to us, filled 
us with a desire to “keep house” too, at least 
in a light way, so as not to be obliged to go 
out for meals if we did not feel like it. I list¬ 
ened to the down-stairs housewife as she sang 
at her work and chatted with visitors, and 
felt altogether euvious of her good fortune— 
so much do circumstances alter cases! I 
thought of the old homestead away off on the 
Atlantic coast, with its many rooms and all 
the “comforts” that we had left there, a tithe 
of which would so well servo us if we only had 
them here! Bur. it was a large “if,” so we 
listened to our neighbor singing her rounds of 
glee with the laddie, between whom a great 
attachment arose,smelt her odorous coffee, and 
watched ber go about in her white apron, 
high with long slepves; on her head a jauuty, 
white cap; heard her “bargain” with the mar¬ 
ket,men who came with vegetables, fruit, fish 
and oysters to her door, until Anaximander 
was moved to wonder aloud if it would not be 
possible for ns also to find a furnished apart¬ 
ment for “light housekeeping!” 
To go “house-hunting” was a new experi¬ 
ence, but we sallied forth, and were soon 
surprised to see how many windows bore the 
placard, “Furnished Rooms;” but a whole 
day’s search resulted in nothing suitable or to 
our liking. However, hy the merest chance, 
ou another day, while 1 was making inquiries 
for an apartment where I saw at a glance the 
surroundings would not suit us, a gentle lady 
appeared from one of the rooms and said that 
she wished to leave the city for a time—may¬ 
be for three months—and she would rent her 
own apartment of three rooms, fully furnished 
for light housekeeping, and would we look at 
them? After some further inquiries, I thought 
it wortli while so to do, I found her occupy¬ 
ing one side of a cottage of which the rooms 
were all ou one floor, and the occupants of 
the other rooms were a Scotch family of ex¬ 
cellent repute. The rooms wore high, of 
fairly good size, well lighted and very com¬ 
fortably furnished. There was a good Stein¬ 
way piano ju the parlor, with au ahundance 
of good music, aud the dining-room had the 
unnecessary adjunct of a sewing machine. 
There was an adjustable sofa, which could be 
turned iuto a bed for the laddie, and there 
was nothing lacking, but in the contents of 
the china closet— a Jack that was the cause of 
much merriment later on, when we had 
“company” to dinner. So when the lady was 
ready to leave the city, iu a few days, we 
“moved in,” and found ourselves ensconced 
at once iu a home. I think we never before 
felt ourselves so rich, iu such good fortune, 
and with but three rooms in which to keep 
house! 
“Now,” said Anaximander, when he had 
stowed away the last of our luggage, and had 
filled the hanging bookshelves with our accu¬ 
mulated literature, "now you can practice 
the tine art of simple living. There are no 
servants to look after and provide for. and 
we ought to have a great deal of leisure,” nnd 
he laid marked stress upon certain studies 
that he had long desired the leisure to pursue. 
Then the laddie hud to have hia lessons, and I 
had a “multitude’' of things to accomplish— 
things which at home I never found time to 
do, even with abundant “hel^’ at my com¬ 
mand. “Well, to begin with,” I said, “your 
favorite writer ou political economy, John 
Stuart. Mill, recognized the immense gain in a 
way that lies in a division of labor. Let’s 
divide the work.” So the laddie was added 
to the council, and accepted his allotment of 
work with great glee, and Anaximander said 
what be would do; what was left over fell to 
my share. It washy no means “heavy,” and 
a woman could always be had to come in at 
intervals to “clean up." 
At first everything all around was delight¬ 
fully novel. In the dining room was n tiny 
cookstove, bright as polish could make it. but 
ridiculously small, with two covers and a 
shelf, aud a very little oven. But what it 
lacked in size, it made up in power, for it 
wrought wonders in its way. It would heat 
red hot in a very few miuutes, anil stow anil 
hake things in an incredibly short time, but 
had to be watched unless the fire was low. It 
had traveled all the way from Albany, N. Y., 
and bore ou the oven door the classic name 
“Avon.” It suited me perfectly, for I never 
felt willing to spend over half au hour in the 
preparation of a meal. The Puget Sound coal 
burns up quickly, like dry wood, sends out a 
quick, Rtrong heat, and retains fire for the 
longest time of any coal I know of. So with 
the coal and the stove I never had to wait for 
thing* to cook. When I am again at. home, l 
shall procure a Bmall stove for the u»e of my 
cook in the preparation of such light meals as 
breakfast and luncheon. 1 think, too, for the 
purpose of heating irons it would prove to be 
both convenient and economical. But iloal- 
ers here complain of the Albany stoves, aud 
say that they are made out of scrap iron and 
quickly wear out. They claim that the best 
stoves are made in St. Louis aud in Michigan. 
As I was to be dish-washer for the “camp,” 
and found no swab among the culinary ar¬ 
rangements. I set about making one at the 
outset. I have the frugal habit of saving 
strings, such as grocers tie about packages, 
nnd as our supplies came to hand and were 
disposed of, there was quite an accumulation 
of cotton wrapping strings or cords. The 
wbittler of the family prepared a handle for 
the swab—a round stick the size of a broom 
handle, a foot long, with a hole in one end 
through which a string is passed to hang it 
up; around the other eud a groove is cut. I 
wound the strings around my four fingers 
held flat, slipped a stout cord through the hole 
left when the lingers are withdrawn, and tied 
the loop firmly around in the groove; then cut 
the bottom of the loop of strings, which results 
in a heavy fringe falling all around the bottom 
of the handle. New strings can at any time be 
added to replenish the swub, which needs to 
be large and full. I have been thus specific 
about the swab, as there may he some unfor¬ 
tunate dish-washer left in the world who still 
dings to a dish-cloth, nnd if so, she may he 
hereby indneed to make for herself a swab, 
and wonder ever more that she lived so long 
without one, for it saves the hands from being 
burnt with hot water, the dishes are cleaned 
more thoroughly and quickly, and the swab 
never degenerates into a dish-rag. W ring dry 
when thrjugb with it, shake out and hang up 
to dry. In Philadelphia one costs in the shops 
eight cents, I learned after I had made mine 
that they are sold iu the shops here for 15 
cents. But a home made one is quite as good 
and costs nothing; only be sure to make it of 
cotton strings. If our supply of table-ware 
had only been greater, I should have washed 
dishes only at extended intervals—as the Ger¬ 
mans do their laundrying, two or three times 
a year! for 1 question if washing dishes after 
each meal is an altogether economical method 
as to time and convenience. With proper 
management once a day is quite enough, or 
ought to be! With a day’s supply of “baker’s 
bread,” costing two cents less the loaf than in 
Philadelphia, and very good, indeed—milk at 
10 cents a quart, eggs at that time—Novem¬ 
ber—40 cents a dozen, a 10-pound sack of oat¬ 
meal, at 50 cents, aud a pound of ground Java 
coffee for 85 cents, we began housekeeping. 
The coal-oil lamp* had been left partly filled, 
there was a slice of butter in tb« pantry, and 
a dozen or two df potatoes. All iu all, our 
supplies seemed to us munificent. 
KITC HEN TA LKS. 
ANNIE L. JACK. 
“It seems as if house-cleaning would never 
be finished." Ho said the Idler this morning, 
gfliswttRttfottjS 
Our advice to con¬ 
sumers of Ivory Soap 
is, buy a dozen cakes 
at a time, take off 
the wrappers, and 
stand each cake on 
end in a dry place, 
for unlike many other 
soaps, the Ivory im¬ 
proves by age. Test 
this advice and you 
will find the twelve 
cakes will last as long 
as thirteen cakes 
bought singly. This 
advice may appear 
to you as being given 
against our own in¬ 
terests; on the con¬ 
trary, our interest and 
desire is, that the 
patrons of Ivory Soap 
shall find it the most 
desirable and econ¬ 
omical soap they can 
wse. Respectfully, - 
PROCTER & GAMBLE, 
Cincinnati, O, 
Free of charge. A full size cake of Ivory Soap 
will be sent to any one who can not get it of their 
grocer. If six two-cent stamps, to pay postage, are 
sent to Procter ifc Gamble, Cincinnati, l’leusc 
mention this paper. 
