286 
APR 27 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
—just selfish—thoughtlessness on the one hand, 
and cowardice on the other. Husband-wor¬ 
ship is the modern form of an ancient vice— 
it is real, sinful idolatry, and does neither the 
husband nor the wife any good. If the truth— 
the astounding truth—were known, it would be 
found there are more disappointed husbands 
in the world than heart-broken wives. And 
that evil can never be mended until the 
husband is made to understand what he has 
or has not the right to expect and ask of his 
wife. 
The wife should be made to know her chief 
duty to her mate is not the silent eudurance 
of thoughtless, custom-iustified meanness; 
out the giving to him of the fullest, most per¬ 
fectly satisfying sympathy and co-operation 
in whatever lies nearest his heart—in what¬ 
ever is most essential to his real wedded hap¬ 
piness. Few women do this, though all would 
if they knew how, and these few are never 
beggars to their husbands for justice. They are 
queens of their homes, and usually feel them¬ 
selves to be appreciated beyond their deserts. 
I judge from King Solomon’s picture of his 
ideal wife, mother, and housekeeper, that the 
needs of men are as unchanging as their na¬ 
tures, and that women who fully satisfy them 
will always be appreciated. Says one old 
neighbor of mine, “ Well, I was the envy of 
all my neighbors, for I had $12 a year to 
spend as I liked.” Her husband hired her to 
do without snuff by the payment of $1 a 
month pin-money. In view of the fact that 
his sole capital in life had been her dowry, it 
did not strike me as great generosity. 
GOLDEN GRAINS. 
I A ROM THOREAU: As we grow older, is 
? it not ominous that we have more to 
write about evening, less about morning. We 
must associate more with the early hours. 
If my friend says in his mind, I will never 
see you again, I translate it, of necessity, into 
ever. That is the definition in Love’s lexicon. 
Those we can love we can hate. To others 
we are indifferent . 
W. W. Story says: Live not without a 
friend! The Alpine rock must own its mossy 
grace, or else be nothing but a stone. 
It was Thoreau who said: I would rather 
sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself 
than bo crowded on a velvet cushion. I would 
rather ride ou earth in an ox cart with a free 
circulation than go to heaven in the fancy 
car of an excursion train and breathe a ma¬ 
laria all the way. 
Do not do some good thing on purpose that 
you may be happy. You must do good for the 
sake of doing good, and not for the sake of 
the kicking back of happiness. 
“ If you take the right side, the just side, 
said Seward, ultimately men, however much 
they oppose you and revile you at first, will 
come to your support. Earth, with all its 
power, will work with you and for you, and 
Heaven is pledged to conduct you to com¬ 
plete success. 
Heal; do not stab. Of all deadly instru¬ 
ments there is none that carries so bitter a 
poison as the tongue, and there is no place 
where it slashes so remorselessly as among 
Christian people. 
W hen Isaac Hopper, the distinguished old 
Quaker, met a boy with a dirty face or with 
dirty hands, he would stop him and inquire, 
“Has thee ever studied chemistry I” The boy, 
with a wondrous stare, would answer, “No.” 
“ Well, I will teach thee how to perform a 
curious chemical experiment,” the old gentle¬ 
man would answer. “ Go home, take a piece 
of soap, put It in water, and rub it briskly on 
thy hands and face. Thou hast no idea what 
a beautiful froth it will make, and how much 
whiter thy skin will be. That’s a chemical 
experiment; I advise thee to try it.”.. 
Domestic Qkonoimj 
CONDUCTED BY MRS. AGNES E. M. CARMAN. 
A YOUNG MOTHER’S PHILOSOPHY. 
C OUSIN CLARA was giving her little 
four-year-old daughter a lesson in 
order. The sweet little thing wanted to play 
with her kitten, which was frolicking about 
her feet, and running after any flying ribbons 
or strings that drew her attention; but her 
mamma, gently yet firmly, made her move 
a chair up to the wall, and take her bat, and 
coat, and one or two other articles, and bang 
them on the hooks. And then she lifted the 
child to her knee, and said, “Now, see how 
nice it is to have the hat, and the cloak ana 
all the other things on the rack, not jon the 
floor, where mamma will step on them, and 
they will get so dirty.” Then she kissed her, 
and sent her to play with her kitten. 
“You doit very nicely,” said I. “Where 
did you learn how?” 
“My mother managed children pretty well; 
but, better than any management, was the 
idea that she somehow instilled into us that a 
child was the most precious, the most won¬ 
derful trust that God could give into our 
hands. It was pardonable to break, or spoil, 
or ruin any other object; but to spoil a child, 
to dim its beauty, was the great, deadly sin.” 
“You made a pretty stiff demand upon 
Eliza, and I think she responded well,” I re¬ 
marked. “ I wish you would give me some 
hints as to your method.” 
“ I try to ask nothing of her, that she has 
not beforehand shown that she could do. I 
did not require her to draw the chair up to 
those hooks, and hang up her things until 
after I had seen her do it for her own pleas¬ 
ure. I make responsibility follow close upon 
growing power. Of course, my regular read¬ 
ing, my sewing, my society have to be 
largely given up—I will not say sacrificed, 
for the sacrifice would be the other way. I 
am learning more philosophy than my schools 
ever taught me. The opening minds of my 
children do for the dull abstractions of the 
class-room what the electric light does for 
the dark corners of the city. I am learning 
what books cannot give. I am getting men¬ 
tal science in the concrete. My family is my 
university.” 
“ You are a marvelous woman,” I thought. 
No surprise that “ the heart of her husband 
doth safely trust in her.” 
“ I do a good deal of figuring on the child¬ 
ren,” she continued. “ Sometimes I make a 
mistake in requiring too much, but I watch 
everything, and help them through as well as 
I can, and where I make a mistake I am more 
thoughtful in the future; but one thing, I am 
painfully conscientious about—I will keep my 
word with them. They are never deceived 
by their father or mother. They believe us, 
every time. And 1 avoid, so far as I can, all 
those little meaningless phrases which are the 
stock in trade of many parents, such as, 
4 maybe,’ ‘ I’ll see,’ 4 by and by,’ whicb the 
child understands for ‘yes,’ and then, at 
times, is sharply disappointed. A mere baby 
will soon learn very thoroughly the 4 yea, yea, 
and nav, nay,’ which Christ taught; and all 
this ‘next-time’ business, children are abso¬ 
lutely ignorant of. I leave myself, as regards 
training, perfectly free when the difficulty 
arises, and no very serious trouble ever 
comes. 1 make the care of my children my 
most important business. I will excuse my¬ 
self to a caller; I will give up any recreation, 
or even my church service; I will defer the 
buying or making of anew garment; I will 
put aside any and every minor interest; but I 
will attend to my babies, at the moment. 
“You, see cousin,” said I, “ that I’m takin’ 
notes, and faith. I’ll print 'em. Will you tell 
me what you consider the gain in the exer¬ 
cise I have seen this morning? You have 
some sensible theory, doubtless.” 
“I will,” said she. “And I shall not men¬ 
tion the points, in the order of their import¬ 
ance. If Eliza learns gradually how to pick 
up after herself, this will, very soon, relieve 
me of hundreds of steps. This habit will 
easily lead her to care for the younger child¬ 
ren; and each, in its turn, will learn the 
same way of doing things. You see, I’m 
drilling her for the whole dozen. I’m mak¬ 
ing a home atmosphere which will bo very 
helpful. 
Then the house will be in better order. I 
do not object, mind you, to children playing 
and throwing things around pretty lively; but 
when the play is over, when they are ready to 
stop, they must clear away the debris. I will 
not have a nurse to do it—I will not do it my¬ 
self. I will take twice the time to direct them, 
that it would take mo to do it; but they shall 
be taught to wait on themselves. It will save 
time and strength in the end. 
Mothers are to blame for three-fourths of 
the worry children cause them—they teach 
them to be troublesome. To be sure, my 
mother taught me a good deal of these mat¬ 
ters, that most young girls never hear about. 
But there are books and books to learn from 
if they wish to read and think. The trouble 
is that they don't want to read and think. 
My mother taught me to respect marriage 
and motherhood; and when the common ex¬ 
periences of women, one by one, came to me, 
I knew what they meant. An earnest, deli¬ 
cate woman can deal with these vital ques¬ 
tions without embarrassment—A frivolous, 
coarse woman cannot. 
Children seeing order throughout the house 
—at the table, in their own rooms, in the at¬ 
tic, in the cellar, everywhere—will be dis¬ 
turbed oy disorder, for they will be unaccus¬ 
tomed to it. This, more tbau any precept, 
will tend to give them orderly minds. They 
will carry the same principle of classification 
into their studies, keeping similar objects, or 
facts, or truths, together. They cannot be 
put into a sphere of life where habits of order 
and systematic ideas will not be of advantage. 
If disorder is positive distress to a person, 
better arrangement will be the sure result. 
Felix Adler says, ‘Squareness of things is not 
without relation to squareness of thought and 
action.’ I believe him. The object I wish to 
secure for my children is, that they shall lead 
contented, useful lives, which shall bless their 
community. As for the common ambitions— 
wealth, society, glitter and fashion—I do not 
think of them. They are to me perfectly 
worthless as aims in life. Then, I hope to be 
a grandmother some day, and to see all this 
teaching which I’m now working out put 
into better form, made more fruitful, and 
multiplied beyond my power to estimate.” 
Just here, Johnny gave the usual signal 
that he was awake. Cousin Clara went to 
him, saying: “Some other time, we’ll con¬ 
tinue.” 
MARY A. RIPLEY. 
THE CHAIN AS A PROMOTER OF 
DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 
I N the “ Ladies Departments” of the agri¬ 
cultural papers many nice little recipes 
for making homes perfectly happy have been, 
from time to time, published; but I have 
never noticod one showing how the chain 
may be utilized for this desirable purpose. 
Doubtless many of the Rural’s readers have 
seen combs fastened to the wall in the wash¬ 
rooms of taverns, by means of a small brass 
chain. I have developed this crude idea and 
adapted it to certain domestic uses, and as 
the result I claim a reduction of at least 25 
per cent., in household friction and worry. 
The enormous force required to keep the but- 
tou-hook, the stove-hook, the blackening- 
brush the stove-poker and other domestic im¬ 
plements in places where they can bo found, 
is set free and can be utilized for other pur¬ 
poses. Pome of those peculiarly gifted peo¬ 
ple who have the mysterious faculty of keep¬ 
ing things in their places without apparent 
effort, may treat thisdevico with ill-concealed, 
and others with carefully exhibited, contempt; 
but to the groat majority of struggling 
households it will recommend itself as promis¬ 
ing means of a happy release from toil and 
care. 
Let us exhibit its working in relation to one 
implement of universal domestic use, viz: the 
stove-hook. The country-house wife, of 
sainted memory, who got up and made the 
fires while her husband enjoyed a morning 
nap, failed to fasten this man-saving custom 
upon the rising female generation, and now, 
the “hired lady” and even the housewife do 
not recognize responsibility for the perfor¬ 
mance of this important service. The “man- 
body” must rise and set the household in mo¬ 
tion by starting the fires. When the resolu¬ 
tion to do this work has been obtained, the 
work itself is not so difficult until the cook- 
stove is reached. Here the trouble com¬ 
mences, for unless the paterfamilias is a dis¬ 
ciple of Nimrod—which in most cases he is 
not—he can’t find the stove-hook. Still as 
evidence of the truth of the familiar adage, 
“Hope springs eternal in the human breast,” 
he continues the search, though the ex¬ 
perience of years should have taught him 
that it will end only in “swear words.” Here 
at the very commencement of the day, a vast 
amount of physical and moral energy is ex¬ 
pended, which the device of the chuin would 
save. Suppose this physical and moral ener¬ 
gy expended each morning were thus saved 
and directod with judgment against the book 
agent and the lightning-rod man, or held in 
reserve against the time for putting up stove¬ 
pipe ! 
And then the button-hook! The button¬ 
hook! The whole house may be in order, con¬ 
ducted upon the most approved “happy-home” 
principles, with just the exact amount of 
“ pleasant smile,” (which everybody knows is 
so efficacious in reducing cross husbands to a 
state of submissive politeness) upon the face 
of the mistress, but if a button-hook cannot 
be found at the moment it is wanted, it all 
amounts to nothing. And who doqs not know 
the magical powers of concealment possessed 
by this little instrument! Sow button-hooks 
shoe-mouth deep upon the floor in the even¬ 
ing, and it is doubtful if one could bo found 
in the morning. But, the chain, provided it 
is a very strong one, will permanently locate 
even the button-hook. Aud to the father of 
the family who has ofton removed the ob¬ 
structions, a milk crock or two, several bak¬ 
ing-pans, a couple of stove-lids and u hot 
skillet—from the top of the stove reservoir, 
and got ready to dip without having any¬ 
thing to dip with, and who, aftor having 
skirmished around the kitchen and dining¬ 
room awhile, has returned to the stove with a 
soup-ladle, only to find the aforesaid obstruc. 
tions carefully replaced—to this necessary 
though unappreciated person, I need only to 
suggesf the advantages of having a dipper se¬ 
cured within reach of the reservoir by means 
of a chain! Is it necessary to speak partic¬ 
ularly of the many other domestic implements 
of constant use? All but the most unpro- 
grossive persons will at once perceive the in¬ 
calculable value of the chain as a “ bome- 
happifier ” when used in the maimer I have 
described. Stephen r. crumbaker. 
FROM A SENSIBLE WOMAN’S PEN. 
A LL honor to T. B. Terry for his manly 
words concerning the rights of wives in 
the earnings of their husbands? And hearty 
congratulations to him that he is of such a 
noble nature as to understand the higher law 
on this subject—that higher law which is the 
true gospel as to woman’s rights ot every 
kind. And happy the wife who has a lnuband 
who appreciates the part she has in making 
the home—the part he cannot perform and 
for which money cannot pay. Yet many 
good and otherwise sensible women do not 
feel free to use the family funds as they do 
the smaller sums they are able to earn them¬ 
selves, even when the husbands are ready to 
acknowledge their equal right in the family 
purse. It may be partly the fault of the wife. 
If she allows herself to ask as a favor what is 
already her own, she places herself in a wrong 
position. Her husband does her no favor in per¬ 
mitting her to buy their children’s clothes or 
her own. Yet often one would suppose so from 
the grudging manner in which he will ask if 
some small sum will not be enough. There are 
honorable exceptions—many of them—and one 
good man has often been heard to refer to his 
immense indebtedness to the wife who has 
worked for her bread and clothes so many 
years, when, had her services been paid for 
as housekeeper, cook, dressmaker, tailor and 
maid-of-all-work, she would now be in com¬ 
parative wealth. Mutual love ana a common 
interest make every privation endurable; 
aud there should be no thought of “mine” 
and “ thine ” on either side. Then if proper 
provision is made for the wife in case she be 
left alone, she will not have to reflect, as 
many a sorrowing widow has done, on the 
injustice that deprives her of entire control 
of the home she has had an equal or harder 
share in earning and making comfortable. 
So long as the law does not do justly to wom¬ 
en, every man should provide for his own 
wife. A. R. D. 
WHEN I WAS A CHILD. 
W E often hear these words repeated; and 
with what interest we recall inci¬ 
dents of that period of innocence and igno¬ 
rance of the sins aud ways of the world. It is 
a period to which wo who have passed be¬ 
yond, look back as to one of great joy; a 
time when we knew nothing of those cares 
that now press so heavily day by day, the ef¬ 
fects of which knit our brows and bend our 
shoulders. Here it is April once more, and 
house-cleaning is at hand; and wo must either 
go at this disagreeable task ourselves, or over¬ 
see the undertaking from the drawing of the 
first tack to the nailing of the last one in its 
place. How many back-aches are in store 
for us, and how often will our patience be 
tried over the breaking of some cherished bit 
of property by careless hands. I hope we 
may all keep our patience. In our childish 
days no such disagreeable tasks devolved 
upon us. House-cleaning was a time of litter 
and shaking of carpets; of taking the meals 
when aud where we could—in a sort of picnic 
fashion. We slept anywhere or almost any¬ 
how, when our sleeping-rooms were undergo¬ 
ing the cleansing influence of lime aud soap¬ 
suds. Rolls of carpet lying all about, 
curtainless windows, chairs standiug ou their 
heads and furniture piled in promiscuous 
heaps, marked the house cleaning era, all of 
which we children very much enjoyed, with¬ 
out experiencing any of the toil or annoyance, 
or ever realizing that this stir and bustle made 
hard work for those engaged iu the effort to 
bi ing order out of chaos. 
White-washing done by skillful and exper- 
IttisrdlHueoutf guUmteittfl. 
When Baby was sick, we gave her Castorta, 
When she was a Child, she cried for Castorla, 
When she became M ias, she clung to Castoria, 
When she had Children, she gave them Castoria 
