has bent to the furtherance of the work. 
While the alphabetical arrangement went on 
the parlors were given up to the hundreds of 
slips of paper upon which were the titles to be 
arranged. 
This part of the work cannot be commenced 
until nearly the close of the year, when most 
of the papers to be indexed are published and 
then it must be finished at a certain date for 
the printers, making a very busy time until 
the worlds done, and interrupting some things 
in the usual routine. The daily walks and the 
Latin lessons, were kept up until a severe 
toothache attacked Mrs. Carman, then all the 
time not given to the index was spent nursing 
the offending tooth, but the work on the index 
was pushed despite that, and sent to the print¬ 
er in good season. Times come in every 
household when the usual rules are overturned, 
but though at times the ordinary ways cannot 
be followed they are resumed as soon as may 
be. A routine that will not admit of changes 
to fit changing circumstances, is a hindrance 
instead of the help it should be. 
All households are in many ways minia¬ 
tures of countries with their rulers, laws aud 
citizens, and like the countries they vary de¬ 
cidedly in their forms of government. Abso¬ 
lute despotism, limited despotism, the differ¬ 
ent forms of monarchy anil the democratic 
form of government iu which all have a voice 
and vote in the discussions of matters in 
which all arc interested are represented iu 
different families. This latter form ought to 
prevail in our Republic, for only thus can her 
sons be trained to become wise voters and 
law-makers. 
The belief that children should not be re¬ 
pressed underlies the government in the Rural 
household. The rights of children are 
acknowledged and held as sacred, and. while 
politeness is required from them, it is shown 
to them as well. They are not treated as 
being inferior, but their judgment is asked on 
questions wit.hiu their comprehension aud 
listened to with respect, kindly questions 
being used to lead them to see their mistakes 
if their answers are faulty. Many a poor 
little soul is driven into painful shyness by 
being laughed at for very natural bluil lers, 
and its elders do not dream of the pain they 
cause by their unkind merriment. 
The children here are uot often punished, 
and when they are, the punishment is either 
an hour or so, us the ease may be, iu bed 
or a tew minutes in the closet. They are 
never struck or whipped; it is bcld to lie 
unjust, and thought to result iu evil rather 
than good to whip a child. Using superior 
power to inflict physical pain upon a child 
does not seem the wisest way to show loving 
guidance. 
Many parents, from a sense of duty, inflict 
such punishment upon their little children 
when it is to them as keen a pain as to the 
children. If such men and women would 
promise their children never agaiu to touch 
them with whip or blow, they would help on 
the time when every family possessing intelli¬ 
gence enough to guide their children by pre¬ 
cept and example, will choose that as the bet¬ 
ter way to guide them rather than through 
bodily pain. Children that are iu coustant 
fear of punishment cannot grow in the maul}' 
and womanly traits that are so attractive in 
little folks. David Copperflald is represented 
by Dickens as describing the results of a 
school carried on by sheer cruelty; he said: “I 
believe our boys were generally as iguoraut a 
set as any school boys in existence; they were 
too much troubled and knocked about to learn; 
they could no more do anything to advantage 
than any one can do anything to advantage 
iu a life of constant misfortune, torment and 
worry.” 
A whipping that to the mind of the child 
atones for its faults, though the poorest way 
perhaps to settle a question of wrong doing, is 
far better than a load of unforgiven misdeeds: 
nothing can be more disheartening than 
“never to bear the last of” any disobedience. 
Such a state of things will burden and sadden 
a sensitive child and harden a careless one. 
An early settlement of all disobedience is help¬ 
ful to most child reu. It is sad for a child when 
it is surrounded by the atmosphere Mrs. Whit¬ 
ney describes in “Hitherto,” where little Au- 
stiss Dolueare, anxious to be good after some 
act of disobedience, begs her aunt to let her 
“begin over again," and her aunt wilfully mis- 
understaudmg her, grimly replies, “You'll be¬ 
gin over again fast enough without my permis¬ 
sion” and poor Austiss tinned away burdened 
with a wretched, hopeless sense of unworthi¬ 
ness. 
If not at. once, then at bed-time the faults of 
the day are confessed by little Travel’s, and 
they ure forgiven; so he begins with a fair 
chance every day to make it a good day. 
Going to the store with his mother uot long 
ago, he ordered nearly a dollar's worth of nails 
and paints for himself, doing iL without per¬ 
mission, and leaving the bill to be paid by his 
father. On the way home bis 'mother told 
him he had not done right, and though at first 
he did not like to admit that he was in the 
wrong, he went to his little bank on reaching 
home, took out the exact amount of the bill, 
aud, with this as a pledge of liis sincerity, told 
his father what he had done, and gave him 
the money. It proved a lesson to him of the 
value of money, for a few days after while he 
sat industriously making a boot-jack, and 
using the nails he had bought, he told me very 
seriously that a little neighbor girl, who plays 
with him sometimes, was very wasteful with 
nails; he did uot believe she knew how much 
they were worth at all. "She just thinks they 
don’t cost anything, I believe,” he said ear¬ 
nestly. His father found ways to return the 
little hoard of pennies and nicKles without 
destroying the force of the lesson their pay¬ 
ment had taught. 
A willingness to offer and giant pardon for 
little offences does much to keep the harmony 
of a home unbroken. The elders of the 
family will lose nothing of their dignity by 
asking pardon for rudeness or injustice as 
readily from the children as they would from 
a grown person; even when an angry retort is 
the only acknowledgment the child gives, 
some good will result, aud a child will soon 
learn to accept an apology iu the spirit in 
which it is given, aud it is a lesson that will 
lighten many burdens all along life’s way; for 
to forgive freely and graciously is a truer joy 
than to be forgiven, and if the child learns to 
forgive his little wrongs, the mau will Audit 
easier to forgive greater ones, aud keep his 
life free from the burdeus of unforgiving, re¬ 
sentful feelings toward his fellow creatures. 
• ... 
GOLDEN GRAINS. 
St an two ou what, too long we bore 
With shoulders bent and downcast eyes, 
We may discern—unseen before— 
A path to higher destinies. 
If a nation expects to be iguoraut and free, 
in a state of civilization, it expects what never 
was and never will lie... 
That happy state of mind, so rarely poss¬ 
essed. in which we cau say, “I have enough,” 
is the highest attain meut of philosophy. 
Happiness consists not in possessing much, 
but in being content witli what we possess. 
He who wants little alway has enough., 
“The Bible is the graudest group of writ¬ 
ings existent, in the rational world; put into 
the grandest language of the rational world in 
the first strength of the Christian faith by an 
entirely wise and kind saint, St. Jerome; 
translated afterward with beauty aud felicity 
into every language of the Christian world, 
and the guide since so translated of all the 
arts and acts of that world which have been 
noble, fortuuate and happy.”.. 
It requires uo talent to find fault. Anyone 
cau do it. It is easy to say that no on° is hon¬ 
est. It is easy to say that no one does right; 
that everybody looks out for number one ex¬ 
clusively; but those who make finding fault 
their rule should look at home. 
Domestic (Econonuj 
CONDUCTED BY MBS. AGNES E. M. CABMAN. 
Make one good resolution and—keep it. 
A PLACE FOUND FOR THE BOOTS AND 
SHOES. 
In answer to a correspondent iu Rural of 
August 14th, I would say that I solved the 
boot and shoe problem when I built our house 
by providing a place for them under the 
kitchen stairs. The tops of the two lower 
steps were hinged—the dotted lines in Fig. li 
showing the steps raised. The space under¬ 
neath gives ample room for long boots and 
shoes, while a convenient shelf holds the rub¬ 
bers and slippers. 
If such a plaee is uot convenient make a cup¬ 
board for them iu the wall as shown iu Fig .7. 
H, A. M. 
ONE WINTER.—VII. 
ANNE THRIFTY. 
“Merry Christmas, Cousin Anne, Merry 
Christmas,” coming from the next room in 
Sammie’s voice, wakened me, and Bertie 
echoed it in a voice so nearly the same, it 
seemed to be but one boy wishing me a merry 
Christmas. “Oh, boys, can’t you sleep a little 
longer?” I implored, but they declared that 
their eyes would not stay shut another minute, 
aud I knew they were wild with excitement 
to see what Santa Claus had brought them, so 
without further objections I rose and dressed. 
Uncle was already up and had a good fire 
burning iu the kitchen, aud we were soon all 
around it. Under each of the boys’ stockings 
were mammoth bundles done up iu newspapers. 
Beginning with these, their first discoveries 
were that two sleds were hidden under these 
wrappings. “Oh, Sammie, here’s my name,” 
“Look, Bertie, my name is on mine,” they ex¬ 
claimed. Then diving iuto their stockings 
they brought out the boxes of letter paper, 
and the doughnut dolls with shouts of satisfac¬ 
tion. Then the bundle containing the St. 
Nicholas caught their attention and the happi¬ 
ness that beamed in their faces, as they opened 
the book, ought to have been seen by the Bad¬ 
ger cousins so they might, have known how 
fully their gift was appreciated, for books, 
especially illustrated books, were one of their 
greatest sources of happiness. 
Turning to my own stocking I found beside 
the bundle containing my calico dress, another 
holding a pretty black-walnut box, lined inside 
with delicately tinted paper and fitted with a 
lock and key. Uncle’s own work, during the 
noon hours he had spent at the Works. My 
stocking did uot look altogether limp, aud 
reaching into the foot I drew out a frightful, 
black-faced doll, made of a stick, gayly 
dressed, with a blackened potato for u head, 
cotton for hair, red flannel eyes, staring at me 
through pupils of pinheads, aud a wide, smil¬ 
ing mouth cut in the ebony face. Mrs. Tur¬ 
ner ought to have beeu there to have heard us 
laugh at the ugly creature, for she it was who 
sent it to go into my stocking. Uncle un¬ 
wrapped the cake and then, at my suggestion, 
felt in his sock aud drew out the envelope. 
Opening it he found a letter aud a live dollar 
bill, from his brother Lewis. 
The letter was written for the occasion, aud 
was full of fun aud good wishes, with a hu¬ 
morous account of the writer’s distracted state 
of mind as Christmas approached, with its 
countless calls for time and mousy and thought 
for a house full of boys, a church, of which 
he was pastor, and a neighborhood where he 
tried to insure at least a Christmas chicken 
from his own flock, to every family too poor 
to make much feasting for the day. 
After the bundles were all opened I hurried 
about gettiug breakfast aud at the same time 
told the history of the cake and oulv the pro¬ 
mise of a generous slice at dinner time would 
satisfy the boys to see it uncut. 
As soon as it was daylight, the boys dis¬ 
covered something unusual in the yard and 
called me to the window to explatu it, at first 
I was as much puzzled as the hoys, but the 
long snow-covered track suddenly suggested 
coasting, and 1 said, ‘‘Why boys your Papa 
lias made a hill all ready for your sleds.” 
“Where’s my coat,” “My hat,” they ex¬ 
claimed, aud were soon testing the inclined 
plane uncle had made of planks resting at one 
end upon a large box. By the aid of this the 
boys could slide the full length of our lot, 
which was long and narrow, while without it 
they could not slide a t all. 
Uncle had gone out soou after breakfast. 
During his absence an express wagon drove to 
the door, and two barrels were left on our 
little side porch. Tne address upon the barrels 
was in the handwriting of the boys’uncle Rob, 
and I was full of impatience? to know what 
the relatives at Roekmade Farm had sent us in 
these generous-looking barrels. A little before 
ten o’clock Unde returned. Sammie and 
Bertie met him two blocks away from the 
house and both tried at the same time to tell 
him what had come, and before he reached 
the house he was uncertain whether a barrel 
of catnly and a car-load of pies had come, or a 
car-load of candy and a barrel of sausage. 
A few vigorous blows removed the tops of 
the barrels; one held apples and potatoes,and in 
the other we found at the top, a chicken with 
a card attached saying “Please put me right 
into the oven I’m cold.”. Sure enough it was 
all ready for the oven and filled with dressing; 
another chicken, two mince pies came next, 
then a can of mince-meat., spareribs enough 
for a roast; ten pounds of home-made sausage, 
and a half peck of dried Lima beans; under 
those were popcoru and turnips. 
The dinner I had planned was only a little 
more festive than usual, but these stores 
changed our bill-of-fare for the day. The 
chicken was put into the oven although that 
meant a late dinner and one of the pies was 
selected to furnish its spicy flavors for our 
dessert. 
As we finished unpacking the barrels, uncle 
John turned abruptly away and hastily wiped 
his eyes, then blew his nose vigorously and 
said, a little huskily, turning tome, “Don’t 
thiuk I am ungrateful Annie, for I feel 1 can¬ 
not half thank the good folks at the farm, but 
you can’t understand how it brings home a 
fellow’s poverty to receive so much aud not 
be able to give a scrap in return." 
i tried to tell him t hat none of the good rel¬ 
atives expected anything iu return and how 
glad I knew they were to do all that they 
could for us, but I knew my words did not 
reach bis heart, and seeing how troubled he 
had made me feel, he tried to brighten things 
lip, so putting on a big kitchen apron he be¬ 
gan to imitate the brogue aud the blunders of 
a girl just landed from tbe Emerald Isle aud 
a.s “ Moggie, the darlmt. of the foiuest by in 
all Oirlaud,” he was the centre of a good deal 
of merriment, until work at the stable made 
it. necessary for him to leave us, after giving 
due “ warnin ” and statiug why he wanted a 
change of “mist.hresses." “Faith, mum, I 
niver worked for iuuy body afore iu a par¬ 
lor," looking contemptuously at the carpeted 
kitchen “ an’ ef I can’t put the peratie peelins 
on the floor nor kape me curl papers in the 
cupboard I'll be lookiu’ for some place that 
isn’t so lome at all. at all.” 
Our chicken came out of the oveu a little 
too brown, but very teuder, the cake proved 
to be very goo 1, aud the boys were greatly 
pleased with the discovery that the pie was 
liberally stuffed with raisius. After dinner 
letters of tbauks to be written occupied Uncle 
John and mo, while the St. Nicholas and the 
sleds kept the boys happy and busy. 
Night settles soon iu December and with it 
came our evening hour lor family worship. 
Sammie and Bertie had committed to memory 
the story ot the Wise Men from the far East, 
who came to reverence the Babe whose birth 
we celebrate, and the story of the Shepherds 
who watching their flocks by night were 
chosen out of all the world to hear “the good 
tidings Of great joy” in angels’ songs. The 
children repeated these stories, and their sim¬ 
ple beauty and promise fell upon our hearts 
with a comforting sense of Christ's human 
love aud sympathy, in that he became mau 
like unto us. And as we knelt to close our 
celebration of His birth in prayer, we felt the 
presence and blessing of His love about us. 
- «♦ »-- 
NOTES FROM A FARMER’S WIFE. 
NO. I. 
I have learned oue item lately that is worth 
a great deal to me, and perhaps others may 
like to know it os well as myself—how to re¬ 
store rancid butter to its original sweetness. 
Every housewife knows how impossible it is to 
make anything eatable from stroug, frowy 
butter, and that high seasoning cannot cover 
up its rank taste in cake or cookoys. This fall 
I came into possession of a gallon jar of the 
strongest-flavored butter it lias ever been my 
lot to meet with. After spoiling a hatch of 
fruit cake and gingerbread with it, I 
thought I would try an experiment with it, 
as it was good for nothing as it was. I took 
my dinner kettle, holding about a pailful, aud 
filled it a third full of boiling water, then put 
in the butter and uddcil a small handful of 
baking soda and about a teaspoonful of sal- 
soda. I stirred the mass frequently until it 
