386 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
JUNE 8 
There is nothing about Middleboro to make 
it more interesting than the average New Eng¬ 
land village, and the attraction there for us 
was a white-haired man whom we loved, who 
had been an attached friend of Agassiz—a 
man who was wise in scientific things and had 
traveled far and wide, and he often said that 
of all the wonders in Nature that he had seen, 
he regarded the volcanic regions in the Sand¬ 
wich Islands as the greatest. During the few 
days that we were his guests, he entertained 
us with many interesting reminiscences of 
his own history and of the surrounding 
country, which abounded in Indian incidents. 
We were shown a spot in Assawampsett Lake, 
where an Indian who had been educated at 
Harvard, was put under the ice and drowned 
by hostile Indians who thought that be had re¬ 
vealed their plan to the whites. Near the 
lake a house had been recently torn down, 
which was built in 1645. The original cedar 
shingles were still on it, and the house 
had never leaked, although the shingles 
were worn to stubs. All throughout 
the country, the population had decreased, 
two-thirds flocking to the towns, or migrat¬ 
ing “out Wo3t.” Still, nowhere do people 
live longer than in New England.and in Mas¬ 
sachusetts, particularly, the educational ad¬ 
vantages are so good as to be in fact absurd! 
In the county in which Middleboro is locat¬ 
ed, for example, each township is required 
to have a High School in which tuition and 
books are free, and in addition, transporta¬ 
tion to and from the school is furnished to all 
pupils who live too remote to walk. That 
year, the Middleboro people had been taxed 
$500 to defray railway and carriage transpor¬ 
tation expenses for High School pupils. Ed¬ 
ucation is probably valued, like everything 
else, in proportion as it costs the possessor 
effort and sacrifice, and an outsider cannot 
help being curious to see how the Massachu¬ 
setts munificence will result. The famous lit¬ 
tle man, known as Tom Thumb, lived near 
Middleboro, and his yachting box was still 
standing on the lake. The dwarf Warren 
girls, Minnie and Lavinia, one of whom he 
married, belonged to a family named Bump, 
who lived in the neighborhood. They very 
sensibly preferred their mother’s name of 
Warren. It is a very common-sense fashion 
that prevails in Spain,for instance, that when 
a man and woman marry, the name of the 
wife, when it is the better of the two. be¬ 
comes the name of the new family founded by 
the marriage, and when a man has an out¬ 
landish name, he should be glad of an oppor¬ 
tunity to drop it for another. When the 
Warren girls were born, they were regard¬ 
ed by their parents—who were of ordinary 
stature—as great misfortunes. But as it 
turned out, they were undisguised blessings, 
being very kind to their parents, whom they 
surrounded with every comfort. 
Among the reminiscences of our host, was 
ondof his youth, when he was but 14 years 
old. the second week in May, 1833, on a Poto¬ 
mac river steamer. On the same boat were 
the Indian chief, Black Hawk, his son and 
other chiefs who had been taken as hostages 
by the government to insure the keeping of 
the treaty made under General Harrison, and 
they were being taken to Fortress Monroe. 
“ The faces of Black Hawk and his son.” said 
our friend; “ were deeply impressed on my 
memory: Black Hawk was crafty and shrewd; 
he was rather small and stooped. His son 
was over six feet tall, straight and stout, and 
he wore a blanket with the figure of a large 
hand on the back of it. While on board some 
of the officers thought they would have fun 
with the Indians and called Black Hawk 
down and ‘treated’ him to wine until he 
became boozy; then they sent for the son, who 
came, and they offered to 1 treat ’ him; but 
straightening himself up and drawing his 
blanket about him, he shook his head scorn¬ 
fully. They insisted on his drinking, when 
putting his finger out of the blanket he point¬ 
ed at his father, and again shaking his head, 
he stalked scornfully away, wiser than the 
guzzling officers. I never witnessed a more 
powerful rebuke.’’ 
From Middleboro we went to Wood’s Holl, 
the most southerly point on the Massachusetts 
coast. Holl is Dutch for hole, bays and coves 
being called holes. At Wood’s Holl the 
United States Government has a Fish Com¬ 
mission building, where cod and lobster are 
hatched, and where in glass tanks a great 
many curious fishes are kept. Of peculiar in¬ 
terest were some squid, perfectly transparent, 
and the swell fish, so called, because when 
taken out of the water it fills itself full of air 
like a ball, from indignation, probably. At 
that time the ship employed in deep sea 
dredging was in the harbor, and having gone 
on board, we were courteously shown the 
methods employed in this most fascinating 
work. One of the officers said that sea l*fe 
was more varied and interesting in the vicin¬ 
ity of Wood’s'H >11 than elsewhere on^the At¬ 
lantic home;coast. 
From Woods Holl we sailed for Martha’s 
Vineyard seven miles distant, on the steamer 
Monobassett, which at the outbreak of the Se¬ 
cession War, had been used as a transport. 
After a charming sail of an hour or so, the 
steamer reached the Vineyard and touched at 
Cottage City, which from a camp-meeting 
ground has grown into a city of summer cot¬ 
tages. Here we disembarked, but tarried for 
only one day, owing to the discomfort and 
poor fare at the hotel in which we were quar¬ 
tered at the rate of $4. “ per head ” a day. It 
was at the end of the season, and it was not 
thought worth while to cater to the wants of a 
few stray tourists. But in a few hours one 
can get a very good idea of this unique city 
of 1,5C0 cottages, of all sizes and styles, from a 
tent to a villa, with streets, water, gas, stores, 
etc., in first-class municipal fashion—a charm¬ 
ing place, indeed, for recreation and rest, if 
one doesn’t wish to get away from people. 
From the Vineyard we sailed on to the 
island of Nantucket, 30 miles from the main¬ 
land, which has a charm all its own, and is 
thought by many to be the loveliest summer 
outing place on the coast. The old town of 
Nantucket, built on a gentle ascent from the 
shore, and for years the home of men who 
roamed the sea for whales and fish of smaller 
fry, is now invaded by summer saunterers, 
who not only hire every old house to dwell in. 
but buy as much colonial furniture and bric- 
a-brac as they can well carry away, and all 
New England is fairly ransacked for heir¬ 
looms and relics to satisfy the demands of 
rich tourists, old sofas, chairs, tables and 
bureaus being sometimes sent as far away as 
California. 
CONCERNING OURSELVES. 
OLIVE E. DANA. 
W E have all of us our pet economies, and 
our pet extravagances. We have all 
our own follies, and, alas! our sins. “It 
seems very sad to me.” said a lady to whom 
was told some sad failing of another, “but I 
suppose it’s because that’s not my way of sin¬ 
ning.” Was it George Eliot who said: “We 
need to hear the excuses men make to them¬ 
selves for their worthlessness?” We do need 
to know the circumstances and the influences 
that have helped to make men and women 
just what they are, and since that is not al¬ 
ways or often possible, we need to have a 
kinder charity a tender and more constant 
forbearance, with others, knowing and re¬ 
membering that we do not know what stern 
trials have made them pitiless or despondent, 
what narrow routine has limited both com¬ 
prehensions and sympathy; what disappoint¬ 
ments have embittered and discouraged; 
what unanswered loDgings render them un¬ 
hopeful. And we do not know how they have 
striven amid or against such conditions, or 
how much grander mav be tbe'r seeming de¬ 
feats than our petty victories. 
Their patient endurance may have more real 
valor and faith in it than all our pleasant 
words of cheerful trust in happier ways. So¬ 
journing over by the seashore, I noticed how 
oftentimes when the sea looked calm enough 
from my window.the sail-boats were tossing 
about its waters, in a way that betokened real 
force and turbulence underneath them, and 
sometimes it was wonderfully serene when, 
looking out upon it, I bad not dreamed it was so 
still. It may be so of human lives; It is not 
always apparent from a little distance which 
is troubled and turbulent and which is calm 
and serene. 
On a little island where the river flows into 
the sea, a mere mass of heaped up stones, as it 
seemed, with but a little earth in the inter¬ 
stices, I saw fir trees growing among the shelv 
ing rocks. It was a stunted growth after all; 
yet the wonder was that they lived and 
thrived at all in any vigor or greenness. So 
of the fruit of human lives. Only the One 
Husbandman has a right to condemn: only 
He knows out ot what poverty of soil it was 
put forth. Yet who of us is ready to say of 
herself that she has done and is doing all that is 
possible. If nothing more in the way of task 
and service, no more of the actual work of 
the world can be required of her, what bet¬ 
ter fruit of gentleness and patience, of endur¬ 
ance and helpfulness, of earnestness and faith 
some of us might render 1 
GOLDEN GRAINS. 
How loved, how honor’d once, avail thee not; 
To whom related, or by whom begot; 
A heap of dust alone remains of thee; 
‘•Tla all thou art, and all the proud shall be! 
Pope.— 
B LAIR says that such is the infatuation of 
self-love, that, though in general doc- 
trmo.of.the vanity of the world all men agree, 
yet almost every one flatters himself that his 
own case is to be an exception from the com¬ 
mon rule. 
There is no action of man in this life which 
is not the beginning of so long a chain of cir¬ 
cumstances, that no human providence is 
high enough to give us a prospect to the end. 
May all who read this resolve to begin the 
day with prayer, for it is the golden key that 
unlocks Heaven to pour down blessings upon 
us, and end the day with prayer, for it is the 
same golden key that locks us up under 
Heaven’s protection at night. 
Is it not true,as Plutarch said, that if we hate 
our enemies we will contract such a vicious 
habit of mind as by degrees will break out 
upon those who are our friends, or who are 
indifferent to us?. 
The Christian Union says that a world 
which has a God over it, and a life which has 
a God in it, have no place for despair. Loss, 
calamity, grief are not excluded, but these 
do not bring the message of despair. Despair 
comes only when there is no longer any nope, 
and no possible issue out of adversity but per¬ 
manent and eternal loss. Despair may be the 
necessity of atheism; Christianity, which 
makes the cross of shame and death the sym¬ 
bol of triumphant immortality, has no place 
for it. “ For sudden the worst turns the best 
to the brave.”. 
There is no friendship that is strong 
enough to get along unless it take faults for 
granted. Saints may be plenty in heaven, 
but they are very scarce on earth, and if you 
are going to form friendships you must form 
them so that they will be able to swallow up 
the faults of those you love. 
Bishop Doane concludes that to be a gen¬ 
tleman does not depend upon the tailor or the 
toilet. Good manners count far more than 
good clothes. 
Scott said that when the hour of trouble 
comes to the mind or the body, or when the 
hour ot death comes, that comes to high and 
low, then it is not what we have done for our¬ 
selves, but what we have done for others, 
that we think of most pleasantly. 
CONDUCTED BY MRS. AGNES E. M. CARMAN. 
A VOID conspicuous and popular styles in 
dress. 
Make your traveling dress as simple and 
plain as possible. 
If you are limited to one good dress, select 
one of black goods. 
We have never been able to understand 
why a fairly sensible girl will crowd her feet 
into shoes too small for her. She loses there¬ 
by freedom and elasticity of gait; renders her¬ 
self ill at ease, and does not diminish or im¬ 
prove the shape of her foot one whit—the 
bulk is there, and if restricted in one direc¬ 
tion, it will bulge out in another. Altogether, 
girls, the torture is worthy of a better cause. 
As we sat cutting seed potatoes for our 
contest plot not loDg since, memory carried 
us back through long years to early days here 
wheD, with nearts filled with only one 
thought, one love—the founding and success¬ 
ful establishment of a home—we worked early 
and late, not stopping to choose our tasks, but 
doing with all our might—imperfectly it is 
true—whatever came to hand, whether it 
were cutting and planting potatoes in 
our little garden, directing the work¬ 
men, or attending to house duties. The first 
named occupation (how many others we have 
never known) struck some of our good neigh¬ 
bors as particularly unfemimne and one that 
a sane young woman reared in the city and 
in comfortable circumstances would not vol¬ 
untarily undertake to do. “Her husband 
compels her to do it,” was the gracious ver¬ 
dict pronounced by this self-constituted jury. 
And so from time to time we have heard this 
story and it even traveled to our girlhood 
home and the writer was commiserated for 
having made so unfortunate a marriage. 
Sad, so very sad! 
Thus it is that a person, having different aims, 
different tastes and who leads an altogether 
different life from those uround him, is mis- 
jud ed. We were new-comers and were voted 
de< idedly queer because we spent so much time 
in the fields and woods; because of our disre¬ 
gard of fine clothes and conventionalities; our 
evident disregard of the formalities of society. 
Our devotion to our home and to each other 
seemed never to enter into their account, 
EXTRACTS FROM SUNDAY EVENING 
TALKS AT THE RURAL GROUNDS. 
4 6 1 AIN ALLY, brethren,whatsoever things 
I 1 are true, whatsoever things are honest t 
whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things 
are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, what¬ 
soever things are of good report; if there be 
any virtue, and if there be any praise, think 
on these things.” Each clause of this verse is 
a sermon in itself. I shall notice the first 
three and consider the remaining clauses only 
as incidental. 
This verse,from the fourth and last chapter 
of Paul’s epistle to the Philippians, is the be¬ 
ginning of his final exhortation to them. The 
letter to the people of Philippi was written or 
dictated by Paul during his first imprison¬ 
ment at Rome, in answer to expressions of 
sympathy and a substantial gift. It is a let¬ 
ter in which are mingled grateful affection, 
personal sorrow, joy, gloom and anxiety 
caused perhaps by the exceedingly rigorous 
and increasing severity of his treatment dur¬ 
ing imprisonment. Philippi was one of the 
chief cities of Macedonia. It was the scene 
of the last struggle of the Roman 
Republic. It was where Brutus and Cassius, 
having been defeated by Antony and Augus¬ 
tus, committed suicide. Then it became a 
Roman “ colony ” (so called), governed by 
Roman magistrates and laws—in short a 
miniature Rome. The Jews were few, and 
were not allowed a synagogue in the city; 
but outside the gate in a secluded spot by the 
bans ot the river, they bad a small chapel. 
It was here that Paul and Silas were the 
means of Lydia’s conversion. In Philippi 
they came in contact with paganism in its 
worst forms; but fearless, they went about 
preaching the gospel until scourged and im¬ 
prisoned. We all know the story of the 
jailer’s conversion. It seems as though the 
very work which the Roman authorities tried 
to suppress, was fostered by the means they 
employed to do so; for the incarceration re¬ 
sulted in the founding of a faithful Christian 
community. It was to these few worshipers 
that Paul’s epistle was addressed. 
Now, nearly 2,000 years after apostolic 
greatness, has this letter of the greatest apos¬ 
tle lost any of its significance? Is 
this one verse less applicable to the people of 
to-day than it was to those of Philippi ? Is it 
not more so ? If in those days of miracles, 
words of exhortation to “stand firm,” to bo 
steadfast, immovable, were necessary, how 
much more in need of them are we !o-day, 
never having seen any tangible workings of 
God 1 
“Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever 
things are honest.” Think on these things. 
It seems to me that if those two injunctions 
were not only thought of but practiced in all 
the dealings of mankind one with another, 
the disappointed, unhappy faces would be 
changed to joyous, hopeful one?. Aside from 
the question of its being morally right to be 
true and honest, see the practical results that 
would come into our own lives, if we prac¬ 
ticed what the apostle teaches. 
Is it the friend who tells us candidly, un¬ 
reservedly “the truth and nothing but the 
truth,” upon Vhcse word we feel we can de¬ 
pend ? Or, is it the one, who, politic, puts 
forward the side he thinks will be most agree¬ 
able, the least liable to offend, stretching it, 
distending it; covering up, smoothing over, 
even leaving out entirely the points in any 
way unpleasant ? 
Though the truth may “hurt”_(as the old 
expression goes), I fail to see how any one can 
prefer or desire equivocation. 
When I was a child, I heard one lady say 
of another; “She is one of the tew people who 
tell the unvarnished truth.” 1 can remember 
thinking about it and wondering if it were 
really so, and how’ any one could say things 
that were not exactly true or put a coat of 
varnish over the real truth. I fear that a 
moment’s thought will bring to our minds 
people of whom and of whose words we feel 
distrustful; but I rejoice in the fact that we 
can also name a number of those for whom 
we would vouch. 
People of equal candor, honesty and truth 
of course nave different ways of expressing 
their views. Some are iu manner pleasing, 
gracious, careful, considerate; others short, 
blunt, unpalatable. It is the latter class that 
are more misunderstood and 1 may safely 
say, more unpopular, than any other class of 
really good people. Two friends of mine 
whom I most highly esteem are pretty nearly 
|Uis.ffllaucou^ tiding. 
When Baby was sick, we gave her Castoruk 
When she was a Child, she cried for Custoria 
When she became M iss, she clung to Castorla, 
When she had Children. she yave themCastorJp 
