MAY 34 
THE RURal NEW-YORKER. 
314 
singing birds east of the Mississippi lias been very 
considerably enlarged during tbe last two centu¬ 
ries, and Is still on the Increase. This can only be 
owing to the fact that by cutting down the forests, 
etc., man bas tempered the rigor of the winter, 
has multiplied the sources of their food, has ap¬ 
pended many additional places suitable for rear¬ 
ing their young, and lias enabled them to bring 
more fledglings to maturity by reducing the ranks 
of their enemies. This has not only augmented 
their numbers and modified very appreciably their 
habits of nesting and migration, their physical 
natures and mental characteristics, but probably 
has even changed their voices. There is little 
doubt In my mind that lu making their lives less 
laborious, apprehensive and solitary, man has 
left the birds time and opportunity for far more 
singing than their hard-worked, scantily fed and 
timorous ancestors ever enjoyed; a privilege a 
bird Is not slow to make use of. 
But on the other hand it-seems equally certain 
that the music of our more domestic birds, though 
greater In volume, Is not so sweet, In tone as that 
of their wilder bretheru. our street spa rrows are 
naturally, t suppose, rather harsh-voiced, but 
whatever they might have been a thousand years 
ago they could hardly he otherwise now, when the 
rattle-te-bang of the city pavements has been 
their only teacher for many centuries. The mock¬ 
ing-bird has learned to imitate the creak of the 
farmer’s wheelbarrow—no dulcet sound—and the 
scream of the farmer’s boy. Many of the sounds 
constantly uttered by men and evoked by their 
work are anything but melodious, and young 
birds born and bred In their midst must surely 
turn out less sweet and accomplished singers than 
If reared among the gentle whisperings of leaty 
woods, and learning music only from the golden 
mouthed minstrels of the sylvan choir.—A'rnepf 
Ingersoll in Sunday Ajlernoonfor June. 
Thk Atlantic for June, contents: Study of a 
New England Factory 'I own. Art In Engraving on 
Wood, W. J. Linton. Rhymes In Many Moods: 
I. April, Emily E. Ford; II. Avril. Louis II. Frech¬ 
ette; III. Daisy’s Fortune Telling, E. M. Bacon 
IV. Presentiment; V. Loves, Juliet C. Marsh; VI. 
Fleeting Youth, Sylvester Baxter; VII. Good- 
Morrow and Good-Night, John Bolt; vm, be¬ 
trothal, Edgar Fawcett: IX. Archery, Susan l’. 
Wallace; X. Two Views of It, C. P. Crunch; XI. 
Be Like the Sun, Caroline A. Mason. Physical 
Future of the American People, George M. Beard. 
The People for Whom Shakespeare Wrote, I., 
Charles Dudley Warner. Buying a Horse, W. D. 
Howells. Recent American Novels. Irene the 
Missionary, X.-XIII. Dobson's Proverbs In Porce¬ 
lain, Thomas Bailey Aldrich. The Two New York 
Exhibitions. A Sunday on the Thames, Richard 
Grant White. Miss Martin, Annie Porter. The 
contributors’ Club. Recent Literature. 
The Blessing ok Lauok. — I believe that for 
most men more than eight- hours’ work per day is 
required for the maintenance of physical, mental 
and moral health, i think that ror most, men, in¬ 
cluding operatives, mechanics, farmers and clergy¬ 
men, more than eight, horn's’ labor per day is 
necessary. In order to keep down and utilize the 
forces of the animal nature and passions. I believe 
that ir improvements In machinery should dis¬ 
charge men from the necessity of laboring more 
than six hours a day, society would riot In measure- 
leas and fatal animalism. I have worked more 
than ton hours per day during most oi my life, and 
believe It is best for us all to be compelled to work. 
It would be well, I think, if we could make it Im¬ 
possible for an Idler to live on the face of the eartll. 
Religious teachers are not without responsibility 
for having taught that the necessity of labor Is a 
curse. The world owes most of Its growt h hitherto 
to men who tried to do as much work as they 
could. Its debt is small to the men who wished to 
do as little as posslble.-Vio/e Atlantic. 
1 he Eclectic for Juno: On the Choice of Books, 
by Frederic Harrison; The Egyptian Crisis, by 
Edward Dicey; On Sensation and the Cutty or 
Structure of the Senslferous Organs, by Professor 
Huxley; Mr. Buskin’s society; The Defense of 
Lucknow; with a Dedicatory Poem to the Princess 
Alice, by Alfred Tennyson; Bodily Illness as a 
Mental stimulant; The Southern states of the 
American Union, by Archer Anderson; contem¬ 
porary Literature—Biography, Travel, and Sport; 
Mademoiselle de Mersac, chaps, vm, und IX.; 
Chapters on Socialism, by John Stuart Mill, con¬ 
clusion; A May Song; The King’s Secret; An Irish 
Idyll, by the author of The Queen of Connaught; 
Uphill Work; The vizier and the Horse ; Professor 
Baird, secretary of the Smithsonian Institute (with 
Portrait), by the Editor; Literary Notices—Cas- 
sel’s Library of English Literature: Plays—De¬ 
struction and Reconstruction—The Dawn of His¬ 
tory—Wanderlugs in Patagonia—The Great Ital¬ 
ian and French Composers; Foreign Literary 
Notes; Science and Art: Proceedings or the Geo¬ 
graphical Society Prehistoric Discoveries—sun¬ 
spots and Rainfall—Air-Flushing-Electric Light. 
Screens—Thaflphygmophone; Varieties: Antiquity 
of Gloves—A Hymn from the Rig Veda—Mortality 
—Between two Posts. 
Early Rising.—A German physician hasdemon- 
strated that early rising Is a very bad habit. He 
has taken the trouble to collect Information as to 
the habits in this respect of several persons who 
have lived to an advanced age, and he finds that 
in the m^irttyof the cases the long livers have 
indulged In late hours. At least eight of ten per¬ 
sons who attained the age oi eighty years and up¬ 
ward were In the. habit of not retiring until the 
early hours oi the morning, and of remaining In 
bed untll the day was faF advanced, on tbe other 
hitnd, he has failed to discover, a tier careful ob 
servatlon of the health of several early risers, that, 
It was in any degree better than that of a similar 
number of late risers. He thinks that so rar from 
any decided benefit being gained by getting up 
early in the morning, it rather tends to exhaust 
physical power and to shorten life.—Eclectic. 
#or ®t antra. 
CONDUCTED BY MISS FAITH RIPLEY. 
GOOD-NIGHT. 
BY MART H. mOHAM. 
God keep you safe, my little love, 
All thro' the night; 
Rest close iu his encircling: arms 
Until the light. 
My heart is with you as I kneel to pray; 
Good-night 1 God keep you ill His care alway. 
Thick shadows creep like silent ghosts 
About my head; 
I lose myself in tender dreams, 
While overhead 
The moon comes stealing thro’ the window-bars, 
A silver sickle gleaming 'raid the stars. 
For tho’ I am far away. 
Feel safe and strong- 
To trust you thus, dear love—and yet— 
The night is long— 
I say with sobbing heart the old fond prayer, 
Good-night! Sweet dreams! God keep you 
everywhere! 
LETTERS FROM A COUNTRY GIRL-No. 
Painting In Water Colors. 
MARGARET U. HARVEY. 
13. 
Now that spring has come back to us, and floral 
beauties again adorn our fields and woods, giving 
to our amateur artists the moat exquisite of mod¬ 
els, perhaps I can talk a little while with profit 
about painting (lowers in water-colors, i believe 
there are hundreds or women all over the land, 
who wait only for some suggestive leading, who 
believe they could, and could Indeed, paint, well, 
If they only knew just how to get about it. 
Well, tea. Makeup your minds to try just as 
hard as you did to learn that new crochet stitch, 
or to embroider that tedious yoke, start out with 
the determination to make Nature your teacher. 
So far, good. You must realize once for all, that 
though you must ever try to imitate Nature, you 
never can do it. The deeper you penetrate (or 
think you do) into her secrets? the more will you 
be convinced that she Is as Herbert Spencer says, 
‘‘unknowable.” The best you can possibly hope 
for Is to paint with an humble fidelity at a great 
distance, making those who see your work belle re 
that you have fully attained to the power to Inter¬ 
pret pertectly. Having thus acknowledged a limit 
to your capacities, you have neither room nor 
right to be discouraged. Select your materials 
without any more ado. 
And I warn you that they are expensive, they 
will make unjustifiable holes la your pocket-book, 
unless you arc thoroughly la earnest. But, oh,— 
who can tell the exquisite pleasure of holding a 
illy on paper, up beside a Illy in a vase, observing 
that the shades, the curv es, the veins are so alike 
that you might almost deceive your own eyes into 
the belief that they grew from the same root ? 
And when this is ail tor one clear as your life, whut 
do a few dollars count ? 
I said you could notlmitate Nature, and I say 
now, that a painting anil the model might look 
alike. There Is no contradiction here. The copied 
flower ought to look like the living one. But there 
is a vast dlirerenee in copying hair-stroke tor hair 
stroke, with a piUuful exactness, after the manner 
Of counting stitches In Berlin-wool work, and In 
seizing the general effect, catching and imprison¬ 
ing the Invisible spirit. The tirsr, Is patchwork, 
the last art. The first is describing a friend by 
his hairs and pimples, the last by his soul shining 
out through his features. You cannot Imitate 
Nature in the sense that you can give contour and 
texture and hue and marking, lu every particular, 
and at the same time retain the character ruling 
over them; you may, in a certain sense, fit that 
you can, by loving touches, mutely say, 11 Behold, 
I suggest humbly, so far as in me lies, that thing 
of beauty, or Its glorified souL which Earth 
delights to adorn with her choicest colors, which 
1 would proudly lay tit the feet of my one beloved, 
and which our Lord Himself disdained not to give 
to us an example.” 
In painting an anemone,-It is enough to tell us 
that. It. Is an anemone-not that this particular 
anemone happened to have two spots In a petal, 
or a swelling on the stem. We do not care for 
portraits unless there is some special reason why 
we should have portraits. Give us the general 
likeness of the species always, save when some 
Individual characteristic cowers far above the 
specific—which seldom occurs in anything short 
of an heroic human soul. 
Y ou have decided to spend considerable or your 
pocket money—perhaps to do without your usual 
allowance of cologne and Ice-cream and caramels. 
Very well. Get Wluu man's drawing paper, cost¬ 
ing fifteen cents a sheet—you must have a thick, 
stout foundation to bear repeated washings. Sable 
brushes are ten cents apiece, you may do a long 
time with one, and i would get a fine one—No. f. 
The best colors come In moist pans, vary ing m 
price according to the pigment. 11 Is not wisest to 
get a box of paints, tor you will be almost certain 
to have some which you will never use. Get one 
pan at a time as you happen to want it-gamboge. 
vermilion, madder, Chinese white, etc., cost four¬ 
teen cents a pan. while carmine, cobalt, etc., run 
from thirty-five up to seventy-fire cents. You will 
he likely to accomplish satisfactory results It you 
have the following colors: chrome, cobalt, blue, 
green bice, (little used) vermilion, madder, gam¬ 
boge. indigo, (little used) Chinese white, Vandyke 
brown and black. No rule can be given for mix¬ 
ing, you must work your paints on the palette 
until you see what you want, and you will soon he 
surprised at the accuracy with which you can 
Judge. Different proportions or cobalt and gam¬ 
boge ought to give you any shade of green you can 
desire, while madder and white will result in 
almost any pink. And indeed, I can direct you but 
little, I can’t do your work for you. All I can say 
Is, try. If you can draw at all, you must have 
learned that t he golden key to everything Is, prac¬ 
tice. But this much I Insist upon. Never attempt 
to paint without a flow er before you. 
'take your flower and study it. i think many 
artists fall just here because they are not., or 
will not be, for the the time being, botanists. 
Count the petals, the sepals, the stamens and tho 
pistils, even If you don’t put them all lu with 
mathematical precision. Observe the relative 
lengths of the stems, the curves of the leaves, and 
the sit ua tion of the bracts. Get- at the anatomy 
first. Then arrange your flower as most conven¬ 
ient, stand it in a vase, or pin It against the wall, 
or lay it dow n on the table, and see what modi¬ 
fications the light and position produce upon its 
color, size, shape and whole effect. Note the 
shadows, the curves, the hues, the velnlngs and 
the high lights. Do all tiffs as quickly as possi¬ 
ble. even while you draw, for remember, your 
model is changing every second. Now you begin 
to understand why you cannot Imitate Nature, 
laigel,y because you can't have her an instant to 
Imitate, yet. your memory from moment to mo¬ 
ment, and above all, your sympathy, will enable 
you to put yourself In very close communion with 
her. 
Having finished the outline, rub it all over with 
bread-crumbs, so as to absorb all the blackness, 
the biead must not lie too stale, or It will scratch 
the paper, nor too fresh, or it will smear It Next 
make a mixture of the leading colors and wash in 
a thin coating of each for a ground work. Now 
perhaps you will have an opportunity to exercise 
yuur patience, for you must not attempt to do 
anything more In a particular spot until It is per¬ 
fectly dry, you may fill In the tlrue by working in 
another part, or by st udying the model, or by mix¬ 
ing the colors you will want next, taking care to 
have them match, as nearly as possible, those In 
your flower. Alas, how feeble Is man: Tho bright¬ 
est pigment he can manufacture Is dull when 
placed against its supposed counterpart in Nature. 
Ah, That unapproachable example ! 
\\ hen you have put on a. second, perhaps a 
third or fourth coating of the local color, and when 
In the broad mass, your flower begins lo resem¬ 
ble the living one, you must work In the touches 
which will give your fiat daubs roundneaaand full¬ 
ness, and transparency and delicacy and natural¬ 
ness, but just how, you know, or can know, or if 
you don't and can't no one can tell you. By your 
cm n persistent effort alone can you discover where 
and how to shade, and to spread and to lighten 
where and how to lay on your brush leaving broad 
strokes, or twisted masses, or tiny hair-lines. But 
it may take you a whole summer to find It all out 
don’t be Afraid of time, for by persevering, you can 
conquer it. Your only guide is the model—work 
on, until you can paint something whose entire 
effect resembles It. 
a flower painted on neutral-tinted paper will 
stand out much more life-like if you put in the 
shadow which It casts. Make this just as you see It 
beyond the model according to the position in 
which it is, and In which you view It when so 
placed as you would be looking at the picture held 
in the most natural way. I mean, it your flower 
lies flat on the table, don’t put In the shadow as 
it would appear h you stood so as to see more stem 
than anything else. The best way to regulate all 
this. I tiffnk. Is to stand the flower iu a vase to 
paint, and hold a sheet, of paper behind it to catch 
the reflection, then you get everything as It would 
most nearly represent an Illustration In the page 
of a book, or a painting framed on a wall. As lo 
the hue ol the shade, make it a soft 
produced by mixing white and black. 
Now, what do you want to paint? Fans, mats 
ror WKse-partauts, Christmas, New Year and 
birthday cards? Avery slight proficiency will be 
enough to give an exceedingly high degree or sat¬ 
isfaction In these simple things, handkerchlef- 
boxes, satin-covered bottles lor toilet-sets, albums 
and then pictures. How lovely to think of a 
beautifully yet Inexpensively-furnished room, 
adorned by the taste of the lady herself from the 
fairy sweetness she found In the woods. 1 am sure 
that such a boudoir Is somewhere. 
pale gray, 
RUGS. 
MRS. J. E. S. 
I 
Now that rugs are fashionable as well as useful, 
It may not he out of place to say a little about 
them. They are decidedly useful to lay before the 
stove, the bureau, the mirror, the couch and the 
large chairs that are much used: First, to preserve 
the carpet In those places it 1L is new, or, if it is 
worn, to cover the worn out or worn off places; 
and second, because of their additional warmth in 
cold weather. They are made in various ways, 
of various materials and In various styles, .some 
are oblong, some square; some are rouud while 
others are oval. The form depends on the mate¬ 
rial out of which the rug is made, and the place 
for which It Is designed. Before a couch .an oblong 
one Is desirable, while in treat of u stove an. oval 
one does nicely, a few are quite elaborate and 
seem altogether too nice to he trampled upon_ 
others have a comfortable look and the feet, are 
quite at home on them, Rugs are made of such 
a wide range of material that everybody can afford 
one of some kind, If they have genius enough ro 
utilize the material rhai they have on hand. Leav¬ 
ing the elaborate, the ornamental and the expen- 
sire ones, i hasten to explain how rugs can be 
had without paying out. money. To make a ■■ ca~ 
terpmar rug," take alt the little bits of -m kinds of 
cloth in all colors and cut them law strips one-half 
an Inch wide. Then with a strong thread and coarse 
needle makes row of stitches through the center 
of each piece separately, lengthwise ; then draw 
the thread until the doth comes close together. 
After several pieces are thus “strung:' and drawn 
together, twist them slightly and trim; when 
trimmed, their resemblance to the caterpillar 
gives the rug tiffs name. After all the cloth Is 
thus strung, take something for a lining and sew 
the several strings upon it. Begin In the center 
and sew round and round closely together until 
you have the size desired. In tiffs way you get a 
“ hit and miss” effect; of course one can arrange 
hei colors according to her taste, t have a, mg 
with a center all hit and miss, then two rows of 
black, two rows of hit and miss, finished with three 
rows of blade Another That I have is oval in 
form, with each row cut and sewed so as to have 
no break in the rows, it has a center of three lilt 
and miss rows,, then one brown and one black, one 
hit,and miss, two brown, another hit and miss 
finished with three black rows. 
The eror.heceA rug is made by tearing or cutting 
the doth into strips, then sewing them together 
the same as tor rag-carper. The cloth thus pre¬ 
pared Is crocheted similar to crocheting thread 
mats and tidies. This kind of rug does very we ll 
but is not as durable as the caterpillar one, neither 
is it so much trouble to make. 
The braided nig. however. Is the most durable, 
and although considerable work to make, it is not 
difficult. The cloih Is torn or cut into strips, then 
braided Into a flat braid consisting of three 
strands. The braid Is sewn together good and 
firm with a strong thread Into an oval or round 
form. I have an oval rug 33x49 inches—that has 
been in daily use six years, and is still so good that 
it will probably be serviceable two years longer. 
In making a rug, if yon keep m mind that the beU 
ter it Is made the longer It will last, you will be 
more pains-taking and somewhat less In haste to 
finish it up at once and get It, on the floor, just to 
see how it Is going to look. 
still another kind of mg is made from the “ an id 
does.” Take a coarse burlap lining, cut your cloth 
into narrow strips, and with a strong hook draw 
the strips through the burlaps and cut. leaving the 
ends an Inch or so upon tin* upper side of the bur¬ 
laps which has already been fitted to a frame sim¬ 
ilar to tUo way quilt linings are fitted. The rags 
are drawn iu so closely that the rug is thick, warm 
and durable. This style of rug is generally oblong 
aucl mostly made in diamond pattern. A variety 
of rags, ravetfugs from woolen stockings and knit 
goods work up in these very well. I might en¬ 
large upon the material used, and upon the man¬ 
ner of making rugs, but a» 1 set out to write more 
particularly about those, the making of which 
would not. involve the paying out of money, I con¬ 
clude by saying that a bare floor w ith a rug or two 
on It Is cool and comfortable for the summer’s 
heat that will soon be here. 
THE SUCCESSFUL HOUSEWIFE. 
8. B. SAWYER. 
The first step towards success must be learning 
to love the work. If a girl brought up in the city 
and used to tho ways oi city life marries a thrifty 
young farmer and undert akes to do the house-work 
necessary tor her to do, or to over-see it done, she 
may be astonished to find It disagreeable. Think¬ 
ing, in her Innocence, that she is willing to do any¬ 
thing for him site loves, she by degrees finds she Is 
not. Tired, discouraged and heart-sick, she longs 
for her old home, bur, knowing she has chosen her 
lot and must abide by her choice, she assumes au 
Indifference to her work which soon becomes a 
reality and site plods a round as a machine might, 
could one be invented to do home-work, lier hus¬ 
band knows things do not go right iu the house, 
but can devise no means to better them and also 
grows Indifferent, and when children begin to add 
their noise to the general confusion, he flees lo the 
field by day and the village store by nig ht, andthe 
poor wife has another grief to add to her catalogue 
of woes. By learning to love her work the young 
housewife (and old one too. perhaps, ) may avoid 
much misery of mind and body—1 say of body_ 
for we well know the body sympathizes with the 
mind and often one feels sick, w hen one is only' w or- 
ried. The farmer's tv tie has much work to do that 
the mechanic’s w tie knows nothing of. It- .amuses 
me to hear women tell how much work they have 
to do, and when you get at the root of ihe- matter, 
they hire their washing done; hire their dresses 
cut and perhaps made, and have no milk to take 
care of 111 I sometimes wonder what they w otfid 
do if the care of t he milk of half-a-dozen cows was 
added to their work. \\ e tanners’ wives have one 
advantage. We can see nature In all its beauty. 
Our work requires us to be up in the morning with 
the birds, and as we step about skimming milk, 
working up butter, washing aud scalding pans and 
pails, no one can hinder our drinking In the beauty 
of the morning, but when tired (and shall I 
say it crons), we wilfully deny ourselves a glance 
out at the open door, and when husband comes In 
fresh trout the dewy fields aud while tracking our 
clean floor woefully, speaks of the fineness of the 
morning, we see only the dirty boot marks and an¬ 
swer accordingly, we have not learned to love 
our work. There hi nothing that will help us so 
much as a hearty, geuulne love tor what we are 
doing, aud 1 believe that love, may be born, reared 
and matured wherever we find our life-work. If 
w r e consider ourselves martyrs, drudges, over¬ 
worked women. Ac., Ac., wo cannot tie successful. 
Our work requires an earnest, thoughtful, loving 
spirit, a patient but energetic persevering hand, 
and a pleasant, smiling (ace. 
POUCH FOR CLOTHES PINS. 
One of the latest conveniences, which I have 
noticed for housekeepers, Is the apron tor clothes 
pins, it Is a trivial affair, but nevertheless quite 
useful It takes nearly one yard of calico to make 
It, the apron or pouch being ffiteun Inches in 
length and nearly* as wide. Round the corner at 
the bottom. At the top. on each side of the front, 
two inches from the middle, cut out a strip nine 
inches long and one and one-half inch wide lor 
pockets. Bind them with lighter colored fabric 
than the apron, that they may be readily seen. 
Gather Into a band and button at the back, or, it 
preferred, put on strings and tie. l. s’ 
