370 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
JUNE 4 
they reached the comfortable possession of a 
cow, the good beast was owned by a dozen 
different families. What ingenuity must 
have been required to make enough of the 
milk to go around. We climbed a high hill 
on which the Town Hall once stood—after¬ 
wards burned—and whence we could see the 
sea on both sides of “ Province Laud,” where 
people can stake off and take up the land 
(sand) without cost, then sell it (if they can!) 
and give a quit-claim deed. As the land is 
constantly shifting, it would seem that land 
tenure there must be a very uncertain thing. 
As everywhere in New England, the door-yards 
were bright with flowers. At three in the 
afternoon we steamed away for Plymouth, 
and had a cloudy, squally voyage, and the Ill- 
luck to run on a sand-bar in the harbor, as 
the tide was low. The sailors beguiled the 
time we had to await the tide, by singing 
Salvation Army hymns, and discussing Cap 
tain Cora, the leader of the “ Army ” that 
for several months had been holding daily 
meetings in Plymouth with gratifying sue 
cess. We became in turn much interested in 
Captain Cora, who was an educated New 
England girl, and who had become, a year 
before, a convert to the Salvation movement. 
She was uncommonly pretty, very fair, a fine 
pianist, a beautiful singer and devout as a 
saint. And that her beauty and accomplish 
ments had inspired a religious fervor in the 
hearts of a great many people, was not to be 
wondered at. 
Before leaving Plymouth, which is now a 
flourishing manufacturing town, we visited a 
tack factory, and left it feeling how wonder¬ 
ful is machinery, and the men who invent 
and operate the machines. The superintend 
ent told us how many paper boxes—the or¬ 
dinary 10-cent tack box—one of the girls in 
the establishment would fold in a day. I did 
not make a note of it at the time, but if my 
memory serves me right, it was 2,800. The 
papers are cut by machinery. Women always 
excel in work in which deftness of manipula 
tion counts; but whatever establishments I 
have visited, and have made inquiry as to the 
pay of the women employed, I always hear 
the same story of higher wages for men and 
lower for women. 
Our month in Plymouth had been in every 
way so delightful, both on land and water, 
that we were loath to leave, and eased our re 
gret by dallying along the coast northward, 
stopping at Duxbury, Marshfield and Brant 
Rock. As Daniel Webster’s home was at 
Marshfield, the country all about was redolent 
of his fame. An old farmer at Duxbury told 
us that he used often to see him fishing and 
shooting, a very good-hearted-looking man, 
but in such shabby old clothes that no one 
would have thought him worth a cent. He 
related an ancedote of the statesman, who 
was accosted by a couple of dudes (not know¬ 
ing him) who hired him to carry them 
over a stream, which he did pick-a-back. 
Anaximander and the laddie went on a tramp 
to the Webster farm and to the graveyard 
where he lies buried. Adelaide Phillips, the 
singer, is buried also in the same yard, and 
while her grave had at that time no head¬ 
stone, it was covered with flowers, marks of 
the devotion of her brother, who is a florist. 
The soil about “Mashfield” (local) and Dux¬ 
bury is very poor in appearance and D. W. 
probably never made much money by farm¬ 
ing. Some apple trees in Duxbury, however, 
were so loaded with fruit that we asked an 
old man who owned them, how he managed 
to bring about such a result ? He said that 
when he planted the trees they began early to 
die at the ends of the limbs, and some one 
told him to dig around the roots and put salt 
in the trench 1 This he did, and with satisfac¬ 
tory results. Another man said that the best 
thing for apple trees was to turn in ‘ ‘critters” 
(hogs !) and hens, the former to root and the 
latter to eat up the insects, worms, etc. 
From Marshfield we rode in a four-horse 
barge for three miles in a nearly straight 
line toward the sea, to Brant Rock. The rock 
from which this watering place takes its 
name, is of enormous size, and at high tide is 
an island. The sea air here is of peculiar 
quality, and very beneficial to many persons. 
Shooting cools and gathering Irish moss form 
the chief visible occupations. What impress¬ 
ed us most at Brant Rock was the honesty of 
the landlord of the C. hotel An over¬ 
charge was made in our bill, which some days 
later was discovered by the landlord, who 
forwarded to Anaximander the over-paid 
money. Honesty, surely, was not dead in 
the land. 
it, it must needs be one; for it is easy to be 
cheerful when you are happy, but it takes a 
deep-seated determination to appear so when 
you are miserable. Many would say cheer¬ 
fulness is closely allied to hopefulness, but 
there is a difference, for one can be cheerful 
when he or she hopes for nothing. 
Melancholia is one of the most terrible 
words in the English language, indicating a 
condition the most to be dreaded. A direful 
contagion is mild in comparison with it. It 
is a scourge to the sufferer and a continual 
trial to all who come in contact with him. I 
firmly believe that, in nine cases out of 10, 
this “disease of the mind” is only an aggra¬ 
vated form of selfishness, for we know that 
by thinking and planning for the comfort 
and happiness of others, we can forget our¬ 
selves and our own troubles. What this old 
world needs is a people of perpetual cheerful¬ 
ness. We have had a “reign of terror” in 
the shape of melancholy and downhearted¬ 
ness long enough; let us be thankful for the 
blessings we have; if these seem too small to 
count, let’s try to make other people happy. 
What if your li£e is full of sorrow and bit 
terness and care and grief, it is the life of 
many others as well, “There are broken hearts 
in the world to-day, though smiling faces 
hide them.” God bless those smiling faces! 
for it is a grand thing to triumph over the 
sorrows of self and shine forth in all the 
glorious raiment of cheerfulness. You don’t 
know how much good a cheerful face may 
do; you don’t know how far it may reach. 
One person may not be able to mako a dozen 
people happy, but one person can make a 
dozen miserable; it is a part of this life that 
the power of evil is stronger than that of 
good. 
“ Go bury thy sorrow, the world hath its 
share.” It makes no difference if the world 
knows nothing of the anguish that tugs at 
your heart-strings, your sorrows are too 
sacred to be bandied about from mouth to 
mouth. Take the staff that has been the stay 
of many a way-worn traveler; “ let not your 
heart be troubled,’ it is only for a little while 
and if we can make a beam of sunshine in the 
hearts of a few or many it is accomplishing 
much; besides, just as you lighten the burdens 
of others, just so much you lift from your 
own heavy load. 
Mothers, if your children have no other ed¬ 
ucation, you can at least teach them to tie 
cheerful by example, it will be of more bene¬ 
fit to them than the finest education without 
it. Don’t let them find fault and complain; 
teach them from the beginning the best of all 
good habits—cheerfulness. 
H. BELLE CHAPMAN. 
HAPPY HOMES. 
“A MERRY HEART DOETH GOOD LIKE 
A MEDICINE.” 
W E hear so much now-a days about bad 
habits; why not say something ahout 
good ones ? And the first to be thought of is the 
blessed habit of cheerfulness. I call it a hab- 
T HE study of the home-life of my friends 
and acquaintances for many years past, 
has convinced me that there are comparatively 
few happy households. This fact was most 
unpleasantly forced upon me the other even¬ 
ing where a little gathering composed of the 
representatives of ten homes had met together 
at the house of my friend B. and his charm¬ 
ing wife. They were all literary people, 
wnich made the matter still more serious and 
lamentable, for if people of intellect do not 
know how to choose their life partners wisely, 
wbat is to become of the vast unthinking 
multitude, who mate as lightly as the birds. 
It was only necessary to watch our host 
and hostess for half an hour, to know that here 
at least was one happy home. The perfect 
confidence, which it was easy to see existed 
between them; B’s knightly courtesy when 
he addressed his wife, and the love which il¬ 
lumined Mrs. B’s somewhat plain face when 
she turned toward her husband, made a pic¬ 
ture worth studying. Then in my spinster¬ 
like fashion, I fell to thinking of how few 
homes were to be found like this ideal home. 
I had known all of those present for many 
years. There was C., handsome, brilliant, 
and refined, who 10 years ago married a dash¬ 
ing society girl—well, they are still sheltered 
by the same roof, but only Heaven knows 
what that home must be since they have both 
been refused the divorce for which both 
have sued. 
Half an hour in the society of D. and his 
pretty, querulous, contradictory little wife is 
sufficient to show you the “ true inwardness” 
of their lives. The bearing of E. and his 
wife toward each other shows that they have 
reached the stage of calm indifference, an in¬ 
difference so veiled by a kind of high-bred 
dignity that only an intimate friend, or a 
very close observer would guess that, too 
proud to bear the slightest breath of slander, 
they are simply waiting until death does them 
part. 
It does not require a very keen critic to tell 
that scholarly, gentle F. could know no true 
union with the silly, frivolous, chattering and 
over-dressed doll at his side, while G. and 
Simplicity, silence, and a soul open to the in¬ 
visible light, are chiefest means of grace. 
There are sweet surprises awaiting many 
an humble soul fighting against odds in the 
battle of a seemingly commonplace life. 
No metaphysician ever felt the deficiency 
of language so much as the grateful. 
Where there is room in the heart there is 
always room in the house. 
Infinite toil would not enable you to sweep 
away a mist; but, by ascending a little, you 
may look over it altogether. So it is with our 
moral improvement; we wrestle fiercely with 
a vicious habit, which could have no hold up¬ 
on us if we ascended into a higher moral at¬ 
mosphere . 
I NEVER saw anybody so poor that he did 
not bid fair to live till he died; and dying is 
the best part of life to one who knows how to 
live worthily. 
A new life is the best and the most sub¬ 
lime penitence. 
CONDUCTED BY MRS. AGNES E. M. CARMAN. 
TRTFLES. 
“ Only a trllle as light on the wing. 
As the veriest Insect devoid of sting, 
Only a trllle, ah! mortals, beware. 
This trllle may build you a mountain of care!” 
H. were unaccompanied by their wives, 
who, as it is very well known, are never seen 
in company with their husbands. The re¬ 
maining three couples I knew to be well 
mated according to the world’s standard, but 
of the 10 homes here represented, I said to 
myself, there is only one ideally “ happy 
home.” Truly, mused I, it seems as if some 
one else but God has a hand in setting “ the 
solitary in families.” 
“ I rather think you and I have the best of 
it, do you not?” said a voice at my side, which 
I knew to be that of the cynical and sarcastic 
L. the most confirmed bachelor in my circle 
of acquaintances. 
“ No,” replied I, as my fingers unconscious 
ly grasped the worn circlet of gold on my left 
hand, while with an odd choking in my 
throat I thought of that lonely grave some 
where on Confederate soil. “ No, our host 
and hostess have the best of it.” And then 
through the flashes of keen wit, and biting 
sarcasm with which L. regaled the company 
for the next half hour, I sat and vaguely won¬ 
dered at the why and wheretore of it all. 
True, I have had no opportunity to prac 
tice what I preach or to avoid the pitfalls in¬ 
to which I see others fall, but I find women 
too narrow, tactless, selfish and uncompan¬ 
ionable, and men too indifferent, thoughtless 
and uncourteous Sometimes I am inclined 
to think that no man or woman who is not a 
good, true Christian, is to be depended on to 
make a good husband or wife. Lovely im 
pulses are good, but principle, and above all 
Christian principle is better. Marriage is 
very much like the Kingdom of God in this 
respect; seek your own happiness and you are 
likely to lose it, seek that of another, and you 
are almost sure to find your own. count trifles > as little things, and very 
All the syndicate writers of the day have I ' ' °l ten pass them by without a thought, 
told wives how to win and keep husbands,and bufc bfe is made U P of trifles. Sometimes a 
have made plain to husbands the way in word, a look, or a gesture, small in itself, may 
which they should walk; so of my own weak cause us t0 do or say a thiD £ tbafc will affect 
wisdom I will only endeavor to impress upon I a11 our future lives - When we think of this, 
both husbands and wives this one bit of ad- I and bow the trifling things we do or say 
vice. Be as free to speak words of praise as ( may affect others, how careful we should bel 
you are to reprove. Better still, be so “slow I t his is especially true where children are con 
to anger” that you never speak words of re- cern ed. The little ones look up to mamma 
proach. A . spinster. | and papa as the embodiments of wisdom. 
They drink in what they hear and as soon as 
they begin to talk, lisp the words of. their 
LITTLE THINGS. | elders. How if these words are not what we 
would care to hear from baby lips? If we 
I T is “little things” that consume the time I bear something that is not right, said by 
as well as the money of the housekeeper. baby » and know that we ourselves said the 
“I am so tired 1” sighed a lady the other day, ^ ery Same thin 8 not long before can we pun 
“ and yet I have done nothing to-day except * sb tbe one f° r No, for if we do, we 
pick up. It is Monday, and it seems as if are cruel - We musb be careful 
every article of clothing and furniture were Some years ago the following instance came 
out of its place this morning. Jennie’s bat I my nob * ce ' A little girl was coming from 
and gloves were on the piano, and her best I scbocd wben she met her aunt. The aunt 
cloak on the back of tho sofa. Fred’s room £ ave a message to the child and told her to be 
looked as if he had been holding high carnival sure to tell her father exactly what she had 
in it. Every piece of linen had been removed been told - ^ be cbdd did s0 > and the father 
from his drawers, I suppose in a search for was very au 8 ry at the message and expressed 
some particular article, while coats, trousers, himself very forcibly. Some days later as 
and neckties made his apartment look like the tbe cbild was ou ber wa y from school again 
establishment of a second-hand clothes dealer. I sbe met tbe sam e aunt in company with sever 
Really one of my greatest troubles is this con- al ver y 8ty l isb ladier. “Well, dear,” said 
tinual‘picking up.’” I the aunt, “did you deliver my message to 
“Tell it not in Gath,” because I would not your father?” 
have my unmethodical friend think that I had " Yes > ma’am,” said the little thing brightly, 
criticised her unkindly, but if she begun I “ What did lie say?” asked the aunt, 
right, she would have saved herself many “That you must be a confounded fool,” 
precious hours. It is quite possible, without said lbe httle one, never dreaming that she 
being too strict, to teach a child order and was doin g wrong 
neatness, and nothing promotes a love of these Tbe aunt was furious—the ladies laughed, 
virtues so much as having a room that he and tbe child retired m confusion. The next 
can call his own. I day the aunt called on the child’s father and 
Whether boys or girls, they should be taught tbere waa a regular row 
to take care of their own clothes, and more for I After she had gone the father insisted on 
their sakes than her own, a mother should see having the child punished, but the mother de- 
to it that her entire Monday is not spent in dared that she had only told the truth, and if 
picking up after careless members of the fam- punished for it, (even though the truth had 
ily. Thoughtlessness is not always selfishness, been unpleasant,) it would teach the little 
and the girl who throws work of this kind tbiu K to lie, or be deceitful The disagree 
upon the unresisting shoulders of her mother, is abIe f€e l m S 8 caused by this one trifling m- 
often not so much to blame as the mother her- I 8tauce lasted for years, 
self who has failed to train her in the way The °^ d sa ymg “Little pitcher’s have big 
she should go. m. b. | ears ’ is very true. Then, let us give the 
“ little Ditchers ” plenty for their ears. Stor¬ 
ies, tales, anecdotes, etc., told in tho presence 
GOLDEN GRAINS. | of children will often be remembered by them 
far better than lessons studied by rote. They 
EEECHERIBME. | ““ y 0 “! J ,1 “ l “ “‘“I 8 ' ^ 
times out of 10, when people are grown they 
can go back and repeat some of the tales they 
E NTHUSIASM is good to raise men upon, I beard papa or mamma tell when they were 
but discipline is the only thing to fight lbiy t<ds > though they were, 
on. I Some days ago I saw the sweetest little 
Men are responsible for sin, butuot for in- I blatk ' oyed oue could imagine. 1 smiled 
firmity. Infirmities are the mistakes which 
men make on their way to knowledge. | p ilS „ Itat( , W g, U t tttiBUO. 
Humility in furs is better than pride in a ' ^ " 
cowl. 
Hardening of the heart is very apt to end 
in softening of the brain. i t> 
l «hen is any was side, we gave her t Aston*. 
Many speak tho truth when they say that Whoa ah. a Child, sh.cried torCastori. 
they despise riches and preferment; but tney , , 
mean tbe riches and preferment possessed by I * »-asioria, 
other men. | Wben “h® bad Children, she gave them Castor* 
There is need in this world of every help 
