202 
OUTINGS IN NEW ENGLAND. 
II. 
MARY WAGER-FISHER. 
H OWEVER objectionable the east winds 
of Boston may be in winter, they are 
very fresh and agreeable in summer, and 
render the city a most tolerable place for the 
summer saunterer. Boston always seems to me 
to be just the rightsize for a city, and with a 
nucleus or center to which all Boston brains 
gravitate. In years gone by the book sto r e 
of Fields, Osgood & Co , was a general resirt 
for literary-minded folk, and now their suc¬ 
cessors in the business continue to maintain 
the old-time attractions. There is nothing 
new fangled or fine about the place; but it is 
home-like and hospitable to a famous degree. 
One finds there all the new things turned out 
by the printing press, and there is no charge 
for information, or for looking at things. Dr. 
Oliver Wendell Holmes, when in Boston, can 
be seen there almost every day, a spry little 
man nearly 80 years old, just five feet 
three inches tall, and his portraits look very 
like him. He is a wonderful man in physical 
and mental activity, and bis four-score years 
have not aged his heart—the right way to 
live, not to grow old! The loss of his wife a 
few years ago was a heavy blow, for she had 
been of the greatest value to him, taking such 
complete charge of all household and sub¬ 
lunary affairs, that his miud was left entire¬ 
ly free for intellectual work Most of the 
literary men of this country have been for¬ 
tunate in their matrimonial partnerships, and 
it would seem that men more than women, 
depend upon smooth surroundings for the de¬ 
velopment of their genius. There is probably 
not a man alive (or dead!) that would write 
anything of the value of “ Uncle Tom's 
Cabin,” under the conditions in which the 
author of that famous story wrote, and it is 
pnbably true, that when any soul is charged 
with a message for the world, he will manage 
to deliver it in spite of unfavorable environ¬ 
ment. I think Boston people feel that there 
will never again, after the passing away of 
the coterie of poets of whica Emerson and 
Longfellow were two, and of which Lowell, 
Whit ler, and Holmes are still sbiniDg mem¬ 
ber \ be so much of the heavenly fire burning 
at the same time in New England. From the 
newer life of the West and South will un¬ 
doubtedly arise the men and women who in 
the next cpntury will add most to our 
national g ory in the way of science, litera¬ 
ture and art. 
Naturally, in a locality so abounding in his¬ 
torical interest, one turns to things of the 
past, to Fanueil Hall, with its sanded floor, 
its walls now hung rouad with portraits of 
the worthies who fanned into a flame the 
revolutionary sparks, and were at the time 
denounced as mischief-makers and brewers of 
trouble. But where and what indeed would 
we now be if the revolution had not been 
brought about and the country cut loose from 
England ? One of the portraits is a large pic¬ 
ture of Webster making the speech in the 
United States Senate in which he cried “ Lib¬ 
erty and Union dow and forever,” etc. Just 
above this bangs the portrait of another 
worthy with a puckered face and hair at each 
side of h : s head like a bunch of sponge or 
coral. There’s far more interest in the Old 
State House, because the Boston Society has 
lodged therein its own precious relics : a can¬ 
non fired by Lafayette, a drum beat at the 
Battle of Bunker Hill, a looking-glass brought 
over in the Mayflower and which belonged to 
John Alden, and cases of china, pitchers, 
punch bowls of colonial times, photograph®, 
portrait®, map®, etc., iu great numbers. One 
of the attendants was kind enough to bring 
from a private room John Alden’s looking- 
glass for us to see, and it was with a strange 
feeling that I looked in it, half expecting to 
see John’s or Priscilla’3 face reflected, instead 
of my own—a good glass set in a gilt frame, 
with a strip of wood across it to cover the 
union of two pieces of glass as usually seen in 
old mirrors Judging from some of the fur- 
ni ure brought over by the forefathers there 
must have been quite a number among them 
who were well-to-do, and could afford luxu¬ 
rious surroundings. But the thing that most 
impressed me in this collecton was the last 
photograph t.akei of Abraham Lincoln, 
March 6, 1865, a face fuller of trial and of 
burden-bearing than the pictured face of any 
other being, human or divine, that I have 
ever seen. 
The little old cemeteries in the midst of the 
city are stuffed with graves marked by small 
headstones, mostly of gray slate—one stone 
often serving for several graves. In the Gran¬ 
ary burying ground which is just around the 
corner from the church where “ Adirondack” 
Murray used to preach, are the graves of 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
Paul Revere, Peter Fanueil and the parents of 
Benjamin Franklin. Anaximander took the 
“ laddie” one day to see the window in the 
old Church where Paul Revere hung his 
lantern. There is no inscription on his head¬ 
stone but “ Here lyes the body of Paul Revere,” 
with the date of his death and his age. The 
stone Benjamin Franklin put up to mark the 
graves of his parents, fell into decay, and so 
a number of Bostonians erected a monument 
of more lasting character and had cut in a 
bronze tablet, the inscription on the original 
stone, which runs thus: 
“Josiah Franklin and Abiah his Wife. 
Lie here interred. 
They lived lovingly together in wed¬ 
lock fifty years, and without estate or 
any gainful employment, by constant labor 
and honest industry, maintained a large 
family comfortably and brought up thirteen 
children and seven grandchildren respectably. 
From this instance, reader, be encouraged to 
diligence iujtby calling and distrust not Provi¬ 
dence. He was a pious and prudent man. 
She was a discreet and virtuous woman. 
Tbeir youngest son in filial regard to their 
memory places this stone. J. F. born 1655 
died 1744 M. 89. A. F. born 1677, died 1752 
JE. 85.” 
Most ot the stones bear on the top a death’s 
head, cross-bon°s, or the death’s head blos¬ 
somed into a suggestion of a winged angel. 
Many inscriptions are obliterated and some of 
the graves are sunk into oblivion. But the 
people who sank into them had their day and 
must have foreseen something of the splendor 
of the nation they were founding. It was all 
in all a very good time in which to live. 
A GREAT CONVENIENCE. 
E. S. LINCOLN. 
A HINDERANCE greater even than tan, 
sunburn and freckles, to daily work in 
field and garden, is the inconvenience of our 
dress. White underclothing is so soiled as to 
bo destroyed in cleansing; dress skirts are 
“draggled” in the dew of a sweet, cool 
summer morn: shoes soaked out of shape, 
grass stains and mud stains incurred, out¬ 
weigh the actual benefit of fresh air and 
exercise. Many ladies avoid this diffi¬ 
culty by wearing a‘ work suit,” made of 
thin brown denims or heavy ginghams. No 
white underclothing at all is worn with this. 
The suit consists of waist and drawers con- 
bined; the waist is made with yoke and loose 
belt, high in the neck, and long-sleeved. A 
short, full skirt, reaching from two to six 
inches below the knee, is buttoned to tho 
waist at the belt, which should fit very 
loosely. 
If you wish to experience the very “ poetry 
of motion” while doing really hard work, go 
a step further, aud cut your sleeves and the 
shoulders of your work-suit waist in “ Rag¬ 
lan” or some such style as will give perfect 
freedom to the arms and shoulders. The 
peasant woman of Switzerland who sings at 
her task, is dressed for her work in short 
skirts and easy-fitting bodice waist that 
leaves the shoulders as free as a man’s vest. 
The linen undervest worn with this is made 
with the old-fashioned “gusset” at the arm¬ 
hole, so there is no confinement of the arms. 
Until last year I defied “tan” by wearing 
a deep sun-bonnet, and frequent bathing of 
the face in cold, soft water caused free 
perspiration in the heat of that cavernous 
bonnet, and kept me “blanched” to the 
proper degree—whiter than 1 could have been 
staying indoors. With such a work suit as 
above described, I always wear linen collars 
or lace ruches, aud it is a wonderful lightener 
of work in house-cleaning times, or wash 
days, and is nice to wear if you go uuttiDg, 
fishing, berrying, botanizing, or geologizing. 
GOLDEN GRAINS. 
J ULIA WARD HOWE thinks that the 
greatest defects of American girls are 
the neglect, first, of religious instruction; 
second, of hygienic discipline; lastly, of what 
Socrates calls “the temper of a guardiaD,” by 
which she understands a habit of combining 
forethought with presence of mind, strictness 
with sympathy, the power to assume responsi¬ 
bilities with the power to bear up under them. 
The Christian Union says that the world 
breaks the hearts of its best benefactors, and 
then, after many days,builds them sepulchers. 
If jou would raise the age in which you live, 
you must live above it, and to live above it 
is to be misunderstood, perhaps persecuted.... 
Do right, says Robertson, and God’s rec¬ 
ompense to you will be the power of doing 
more right. Give, and God’s reward to you 
will be the spirit of giving more. Love, and 
God will pay you with the capacity of more 
love, for love is heaven and the spirit of God 
within you... 
Fiske reminds us that every temptation 
that is resisted, every noble aspiration that is 
encouraged, every sinful thought that is re¬ 
pressed, every bitter word that is withheld, 
adds its little tern to the impetus of that 
great movement which is bearing humanity 
onward toward a richer life and higher char¬ 
acter ... 
The most real hell and deepest hell is self¬ 
ishness. This is the great gulf fixed between 
the evil and the good, which cannot be passed 
over. .... 
Kingsley’s advice is never to hurt any 
one’s self-respect. Never trample on any soul, 
though it may be lying in the veriest mire; 
for that last spark of self-resppct is its o>lv 
chance, the last seed of a n«w and better life; 
the voice of God which still whispers to it, 
“ You are not what you ought to be, and vou 
are not what you can be; you are still God’s 
child, still an immortal soul. You may be a 
man yet, after the likeness of Christ who died 
for you.” Ob, why crush that voice in any 
heart? If you do, the poor creature is lost, 
and never tries to rise again.... 
Home Maker advises us not to say a rough 
word when a smooth one will serve our pur¬ 
pose as well. Before indulging in retort, or 
sly thrust, or “ crusher”—whatever the provo¬ 
cation let each of us ask him or herself: 
“ Would I wish this unsaid if I were never to 
behold his living face again ? ” Common 
sen®e ought to have proved to us by this time 
that oil is a better lubricant of household ma¬ 
chinery than vinegar or caustic. 
When we are coldly discussing a man’s 
career, says Geo Eliot, sneering in our self- 
righteous, self-opinionated wav, at his mis¬ 
takes, blaming his rashness, and libeling his 
opinions, words, and actions—yes, bis 
thoughts, that man, in his solitude, is perhaps 
sheddiug hot tears because his sacrifice is a 
bard one, because strength and patience are 
failing him to speak the difficult word, and 
do tho difficult deed. 
The following stories are vouched for by a 
good blue-stocking Presbyterian minister of 
Pennsylvania: 
Sunday School Teacher:—” Who was 
Esau?” 
Small Boy :—“ Esau was aman who wrote a 
book of fables, and sold his copyright for a 
bottle of potash.” During the Christmas 
review exercises, at a mission school for track 
hands, in Pennsylvania, the question was 
asked, “ Where was Christ born ? ” A boy, 
raising bis hand, said “In Mauch Chunk.” 
The horrified superintendent answered; “ Ob, 
no, Christ was born in Bethlehem.” “ Well I 
knew it was somewheres on the Reading Rail- 
read.” He referred to the little town of Beth¬ 
lehem, Pa., on that road. 
The Best Cow in June gives milk of a rich 
orange tint. From this milk butter is made 
as nearly perfect in color as the buyer could 
wish. With Thatcher’s Orange Butter Color 
this tint can be maintained the entire season. 
— Adv. 
Domestic (Bcxmcnraj 
CONDUCTED BY MRS. AGNES E. M. CARMAN. 
EXTRACTS FROM SUNDAY EVENING 
TALKS AT THE RURAL GROUNDS. 
F OR the enlightenment of our new sub¬ 
scribers, we again state that the extracts 
under this heading are taken from essays or 
talks read or given extemporaneously ,.at what 
we call our “Sunday Evening Devotional Ex- 
ercisis ’ by the different members of the Rural 
circle, who, as our old readers know, live in 
a lonely country place and some distance from 
a church. These exercises consist of Bible 
reading, discussion of the matter read, read¬ 
ing and explanation of the International Sun¬ 
day-school Lessoo, reading of the paper pre¬ 
pared by one of the members, and singing, 
ending with repeating in concert the Lord’s 
Prayer. 
Our readers will kindly consider that our ex¬ 
tracts are taken alike from young and old. 
While we intend to quote from time to time 
from these talks, many of them are of too per¬ 
sonal a character to allow of so doing As a 
matter of course, the Rural New-Yorker 
does not hold itself responsible for the princi¬ 
ples advocated or denounced in these talks. 
“And if a house be divided against itself that 
house cannot stand.” St. Mark 3-25. 
(Spoken without notes by a woman of 37.) 
“ Did you get the evening paper?” 
“No, I forgot it” was the answer. 
MAR 23 
“Ah! you forgot it<~I suppose, be¬ 
cause you knew that I particularly wanted to 
see it,” came the cutting retort. For some 
reason, probably the injustice of the words, 
this bit of dialogue with my father and mother 
as speakers is remembered with the vividness 
of yesterday, though nearly 20 years have 
parsed since the words were spoken. It can¬ 
not be possible that parents can realize the 
everlasting effect that their own uncongenial¬ 
ities and inharmonies have upon their 
children, else for humanity’s sake, they would 
agree to disagree peaceably without the 
daily encounters that render life a burden and 
home a charmless place. 
With a girlhood the happiest times of 
which were passed away from home, was it a 
wonder that I hailed with delight the prospect 
of a home of my own, to be shared with a 
companion to whom I had given all the love 
my nature was capable of? Was it strange 
when I found the peace of an undivided 
house, that I should have been content and 
happy there, although that house stood in 
what our city friends were pleased to call a 
wilderness? Now, I fully appreciated my 
good fortune and made many silent vows 
that I would do my part and a little more; in 
fact, should the occasion demand it, I would 
cheerfu’ly yield personal likes and dislikes, 
rather than strike the first inharmonious 
chord. Had I not had full confidence in my 
companion’s honesty of purpose, and a firm 
belief that he studied my interests from an 
unselfish point, my personality would never 
have allowed me to think of accepting unchal¬ 
lenged his “say-so.” So much for untried, 
non-tested intentions. But the atmospheric 
effects of the divided house followed me into 
the entire house, and owing partly to the 
faulty training of 20 years and partly to nat¬ 
ural peculiarities, I haven’t the slightest 
doubt that, but for the judicious and just 
treatment accorded mg, my house would not 
only have divided, but gone all to pieces. 
It amuses me to hear a married woman as¬ 
sert that she will meet a man half way every 
time, but further she will not go! No need to 
be told more; the story is short but pages 
could not have explained the situation better. 
No couple ever lived peaceably upon the meet- 
me-half-way platform. In every real and true 
union, either the husband or the wife yields 
to the other’s opinions and prejudices, but 
love and devotion take from the yielding 
every sting, maxing it an almost spontaneous 
act, but it is yielding all the same. Of course, 
I have taken the premises that the husband 
and wife are just and right-minded persons. 
It is not to be expected that persons having 
different blood in their veins and having been 
brought up under different conditions and 
traditions should feel and think alike in 
every little thing; it would be absurd and 
neither husband nor wife has any right to ex¬ 
pect or require anything of the kind. But if 
their hearts be right they will not stray far 
apart, and love, confidence and respect are 
strong rivets that will withstand many a pet¬ 
ty wrench. 
“You go your way and I’ll go mine.” Dan¬ 
gerous paths for man and wife to take. “You 
have your interests, and I’ll have mine.” 
Breakers ahead ! The house will not stand. 
Divided interests. are dangerous—the house 
first shakes, then totters and falls. To be 
plain-spoken, if their house is to stand, man 
and wife must be united on all important 
matters. There must be unity of interests— 
no pulling in different directions, but good, 
steady drawing together, no matter how 
rough the road or how steep the hill. 
When I hear a couple say that they have 
never quarreled or differed one with the other, 
I at once conclude one of two things is true, 
that either the statement is altogether false 
or that one of the parties is n wishy-washy 
person, void of decided characteristics. 1 
have sometimes thought that the deeper the 
affection the fiercer the quarrel. 
Whether married life proves a failure or 
not de ends altogether upon the goodness of 
character of both husband and wife. Thera 
must be a metal underneath that neither tar¬ 
nishes nor wears away, something to which 
each can anchor, for the storms of every-day 
life so beat agaiust the structure that if it be 
not founded upon the unalloyed rock of good¬ 
ness, it cannot withstand the strain—it parts 
and the dearest, most sacred relations known 
stand exposed to the curious gaze of the 
world. 
When Baby was sick, we gave her O-marwta, 
When she was a Child, she cried for Castorta, 
When she became Miss, she clung to Castoria, 
When she had Children, she gave thorn Castoria 
