THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
SEPT 14 
Poison Ivy, only here it assumes a shrubby 
habit, anrl a great many people are poisoned 
by it. We were careful not to handle it, 
while feeling tolerably secure that we were 
not sensitive to its noxious effects. It grows 
in great abundance from Oregon south, in 
company with the beautiful manga nita, laurel 
and madrona, 
In making these northern trips, there were 
many kinds of people in the train—Spaniards, 
Italians, Swiss, Portugese, Chinese. Gormans, 
French—a mixed population indeed. Now and 
then we saw an Indian, and in one place an 
Indian camp. A very pleasing feature of this 
valley was the architecture of the dwelling 
houses; they all looked to be new and in the 
pretty modern cottage style, the rooms all on 
one floor, and this floor elevated well above 
the ground, from four to six feet or more, the 
basement lining convenient for various pur¬ 
poses. This construction tends to modify the 
labor of the household, but I have heard women 
say that it does not insure the privacy and 
quiet to be had in two-floor houses. 
Since writing the foregoing, I have had a 
conversation with a well informed gentle¬ 
man anent the effects produced upon sobriety 
by the wine production in these valleys. The 
gist of what he said was this: “Iu a general 
way, drunkenness has not increased much by 
the manufacture of wine. In all our larger 
cities, the vice of drinking is enormous, but 
whisky and unlimited quantities of beer are 
drunk. Many of our artisans and laboring 
men can’t do a day’s work without their beer. 
But there is a great deal of wine drinking in 
the families where wine is made, and nearly 
all the grape growers in the valleys make wine 
for their own use, even if selling none. A 
reputable physician whom I know, told 
me that in twenty professional visits that he 
made in Napa Valley—where he thought wine 
inebriation worst—he found ten to twelve 
young women suffering from delirium tremens. 
A good many foreigners live in these villages, 
who all their lives have been accustomed to 
drinking the light wines of Europe, but the 
much larger percentage of alcohol iu Califor¬ 
nia wines, affects them in a very harmful de¬ 
gree.” 
A young lady who knew much about 
the wine making districts iu Sonoma, de¬ 
scribed the condition of affairs there as “ per¬ 
fectly terrible”—a vast amount of crime, 
quarrelings,, etc. being the outcome of wine 
drinking, and it is rather astouisbiugrhat. when 
the penalty of wine bibbling has so long been 
known, such vast multitudes of people con¬ 
tinue to be deceived by it, ami by the vile stuff 
that goes uuder the name of beer. One might 
better raise sage, as some do iu California, in 
a small way, but reap a nice profit from it. 
The sage can be clipped three times a year, 
and sells at from six to nine cents per pound 
in San Francisco. An acre will yield of sage, 
when dry, from six to eight hundred pounds. 
It is a sure crop and does not require much at¬ 
tention. I don’t think from the way in which 
Cbinase tea is manipulated that it can be at 
all clean, and it is one of the things that we 
use without til’s!, washing it. 
lUommi’s Wffrh. 
CONDUCTED BY EMILY L. TABLIN’. 
MOTHER'S WORK. 
Baking, stewing ami brewing. 
Roasting, frying ami boiling. 
Sweeping, Uusllng ami cleaning, 
Washing, starching anti ironing. 
Ripping, turning and mending, 
Cutting, basting and stitching, 
Making the old like new: 
Shoestrings to lace. 
Faces to wash. 
Buttons to sew, 
And the like of such; 
Stockings to darn 
While the Children play; 
Stories to tell. 
Tears wipe away. 
Making them happy 
The livelong day: 
It Is ever thus from morn till night; 
Who says that a mother’s work Is light? 
At evening, four 
Little forms In white; 
Prayers all said, 
And the last good-night, 
Tucking them safe 
In each downy bed, 
Silently asking 
O’er each head, 
That the dear Father 
In Heaven will keep 
Safe all my darlings, 
Awake or asleep. 
Then I think the old adage (rue ever will prove: 
“It is easy to labor for those that we love.” 
Ah me! dear me! I often say, 
As I hang the tumbled clothes away, 
And the tear-drops start 
While my burdened heart 
Aches for the mother across the way. 
Where, oil where are 
Her nestlings (town? 
All, all are gone, 
Save one alone! 
Folded their garments 
-,- 
With tenderest care,’ 
Unpressed the pillow 
And vacant the chair 
No ribbons to tie. 
No faces to wash, 
No hair all awry; 
No merry voices 
To hush into rest: 
God save them! 
no took them, 
And he knowetli best; 
But, ah! the heart anguish! the tears that fall; 
This mother’s work is the hardest of all! 
— Philatirlj'hfu Sunday Republic. 
OF INTEREST TO WOMEN. 
Colored satin table cloths, such as have ob¬ 
tained in fashionable circles during the past 
year, are low denounced abroad as vulgar. 
Without doubt, nothing is so charming as fine 
white damask. Good Housekeeping says that 
six or seven years ago some of the young la¬ 
dies in Washington society organized a society 
called ‘‘The Belles of the Kitchen,” and at their 
weekly meetings they used to prepare and 
serve dainty dishes. It lias, however, come to 
pass that every “belle” has got married—Miss 
Meigs was the last—and now some half a 
dozen girls of a younger generation have in 
turn started an organization, which they call 
"Six Little Cooks.” They wear at their 
weekly meetings, at each other’s houses, mob- 
caps and aprons of swiss muslin, trimmed with 
scarlet ribbons. The hostess, herself, prepares 
a salad, escal loped oysters. croquettes, or some 
other dish, which the others cat critically. 
Sweeping day is a penitential day to many 
housekeepers, chiefly because too many con¬ 
sider this work conquerable only by main- 
strength and ignorance, Bays a writer in 
Good Housekeeping: “Look at the average 
Bridget when she sweeps. She enters the room 
sleeves rolled up, an apron tied over her head. 
She opens the windows wide (especially if it is 
a windy day) and goes at it. No skirmishing 
for her. She storms the fort at once. Noth¬ 
ing is covered to keep it from dust. Nothing 
is moved unless it comes in her way, aud very 
likely the broom goes bang against the article 
then before it is moved. She sweeps with a 
will, as if site meant to go to the foundation 
of things. The dust flies iu clouds aud gets 
out of the way as fast as possible, settling on 
curtains, tops of pictures, furniture—any¬ 
where to get out of the way, for she is like a 
conquering army, sweeping all before her. 
And the dusting is a sight to see. As soon as 
the sweeping is done, the long handled feather 
duster comes to the front. A whack here, and 
a bang there. The dust waltzes around and 
flies here and there, but never gets out of the 
room—only changes its place—and an hour af¬ 
terwards you would never guess the room had 
been touched. I remonstrated with one of 
these strong-armed sweepers about sweeping 
without moving or covering anything. “Sure, 
haven’t I got to dust all the same after I get 
through?” She emerges from the conflict with 
red face and tumbled hair, and declares “she 
is glad it is done.” 
MOTHER’S BOYS. 
The average schoolboy does not always im¬ 
ply a compliment when he describes a chum 
as his mothor’s boy. lie is very apt to con¬ 
sider such a title uu acknowledgement of 
effeminacy, though it is hard to tell why. 
We must, confess a personal weakness, how¬ 
ever. for the boy who elects bis mother as 
guide, philosopher and friend. True, a 
weakly-indulgent woman may warp aud 
twist a boy’s character, making him what we 
contemptuously term a Miss Nancy; but this 
is not so in every case, and some of the most, 
thoroughly spoiled hoys we have met were 
spoiled by their fathers, rather than their 
mothers. It is a self-evident fner, that there 
can be no better influence in the building of 
character than that exercised by a woman of 
education aud refinement. As an axiom, it 
may be stated that every mother should be 
educated and refined. Pity ’tis not ulways so. 
The mother who has always a sympathetic 
word or look for her boy, in happiness and 
sorrow alike, can always be sure of his heart 
and allegiance. It is not always easy for us 
older folks to fully enter into a boy’s feelings; 
but any want of interest wo may show is al¬ 
ways felt and often resented. 80 the mother 
who appreciates her sou’s prowess on the 
skating-pond, or his success in soaring suck¬ 
ers, will be considered just right, even if she 
does mingle a little lirmucss with her gentle 
rule. 
The true mother’s boy is not by any means 
a molly-coddle; ho is a distinctly human boy, 
brimming over with fun and mischief, too, 
and coming to grief as often as other speci¬ 
mens of his race. But under his mischief and 
boyish pranks there is enough gcuuiuo chiv¬ 
alry to stock a regiment of mediseval crusad¬ 
ers. He is gentle to his mother and consid¬ 
erate to his sisters, and does not consider an 
evening spent exclusively iu their society a 
barren waste. He waits upou his feminine 
relatives, like the little gentleman he is, and 
has even been known to give up an important 
engagement to go Ashing with his chum be¬ 
cause bis mother needed his belli. So he grows 
from the well-behaved boy to the man every 
one likes—a living encouragement to all 
mother’s boys. 
But there is one thing wo are sometimes apt 
to forget. If we expect courtesy from a boy, 
we must return him in kind. Don’t we all 
know the household where, if there is an irk¬ 
some errand, some oue says, “ Bend Joknuy.” 
If, when there are unexpected guests, the pie 
won't go around, “ Johnny can do without.” 
If the tea-table is crowded. “Johnny can 
wait.” Poor Johnny ! Who cau blame him 
if he is not always as obliging as he might 
be i 
If we treat our boys as little gentlemen, 
small doubt that they will behave as such. If 
we respect their feelings, they will respect 
ours. It is a fair system of givoand take. So, 
dear mother, win your son’s heart while it is 
stall within your hand, und small doubt that 
your “mother’s boy” will prove a crown of 
blessing. 
WHAT SHALL THE CHILDREN READ? 
In these days this question cannot be too 
frequently asked, nor the subject too thor¬ 
oughly discussed. As I call to mind the 
countless publications which are Issued I ex¬ 
claim. surely “of making books there is no 
end.” And among so many, of course, some 
are good, some bad It is for you, mothers 
and fathers, to decide whether your children 
shall read the good or the bad. Not that a 
child would neces wily select a bad book if 
left to make his own selections, but those books 
are bright and fascinating ; the evil is pre¬ 
sented iu so charming a manner us scarcely to 
seem wrong ; it. is so cunningly interwoven 
with the good that to the inox]ierienced 
reader it is scarcely perceptible, but it will 
leave its unpress upon the young mind, and 
bear fruit iu later years. 
This subject is one that has claimed my at¬ 
tention for years, and I’ve wondered that 
parents, careful in other respects, would al¬ 
low their children to read anything and every¬ 
thing that conies iu their way. Parents who 
are particular that their boys aud girls should 
have proper food for the strengthening of 
their bodies, seem utterly careless with regard 
to their mental sustenance. Many who would 
be horrified at the idea of their children's 
seeking bad companions will thoughtlessly al¬ 
low them to occupy their leisure hours with 
books of questionable morality. Victor Hugo 
says: “Books are cold but sure friends.” If, 
then, your children are furnished with good 
luniks, these “sure friends” may bo of inesti¬ 
mable value to them, but if you allow them to 
choose their own “cold but sure” companions, 
you rnay suddenly lie aroused a-s was a mother 
recently, who said to me: “ It nearly broke 
iny heart to find my sou, a lad of thirteen, 
reading a translation of one of the most cor¬ 
rupt French novels.” 
See to it, mothers, that your children read 
no books without your permission. If you 
could go still further and declare that they 
shall not look within the covers of a book, un¬ 
less you allow them, it would bo hotter still, 
for I remember, with sadness, a single sentence 
that I read ns I picked up a volume from a 
booksellers' stand while waiting for a train. 
Beautiful thoughts, exquisite sentiments, 
which I’ve carefully read, have vanished from 
my memory, but that loathsome expression, 
which I glanced at hurriedly aud carelessly, 
will, I fear, haunt me as long as I live. 
And this oversight of children's books can¬ 
not be lieguu at too early an age, for pictures 
will leave an impression long before tbe 
printed page is read. In recognition of this 
fact D. Lathrop & Co. have published within 
a few years “Babyland,” a monthly publica¬ 
tion, for the youngest, in the family. Many 
a little one has been charmed, and many a 
wearied mother rested as the bright and 
wholesome pages have boon eagerly scanned. 
But, after all, the most watchful attention 
is needed when the boys and girls first, feel t he 
delight of being able to “ read for themselves. ” 
Then look carefully at the character of their 
“silent friends.” And, as some perplexed 
mother may fool at a loss what, to choose, 
mayhap a list of safe, good reading in the col¬ 
umns of the Rural, from one whose business 
demands close attention to books, would prove 
helpful. 
To begin, then, with children who have just 
learned to read. Be sure to have a paper or 
magazine especially for them; let it come to 
their address; make them feel it is all their 
own. I know of nothing bettor in this line 
than “Our Little Men and Women”—a month¬ 
ly at $1 per year, containing large and beau¬ 
tiful pictures, short, and instructive stories 
and delightful poems. Many of the papers 
for children are adapted to various ages, 
but this is specially for the beginner, and finds 
a hearty welcome from every little “man or 
woman” who is so fortunate as to receive it. 
Then there are Mrs. Brine’s books, always 
pure iu tone—“Four Little Friends,” “Papa’s 
Daughters," “Jingles and Joys,” the “Prudy” 
books, the “Flaxie Frizzle*’ series, by Sophie 
May. Those charmingly illustrated books, 
“Told in the Twilight” and “Out of Town,” 
by Weatherby, and others included in the 
“Art Gem Series.” Hans Andersen’s wonder¬ 
ful stories are of world wide reputation. 
To those who think that the babes need some 
“strong meal” as well as “milk,” there are 
histories of France, England, Germany and 
the United States, writteu in words of one syl¬ 
lable, by Mrs. Helen Pierson, and “ Little Ar¬ 
thur’s History of England aud of France,” by 
Lady Calcott. 
Is Sunday reading or religious instruction 
demanded? There are the old-time favorites, 
“Poop of Day,” “Line upon Line,” “Precept 
upon Precept.” which have recently lieen re¬ 
published. There is the “Picture Bible for 
Children.” the “Dawning” aud the “Day 
Spring.” 
The list might be exteuded indefinitely; but 
surely one can select enough from this to fur¬ 
nish a child with reading matter for two 
years. Don’t have too many books for the 
children. Require them to read, review and re- 
review. Should they declare they kuow them 
“all by heart,” test them. Let the mother 
take a volume aud have the children tell what 
they know of the first dozen pages. She will 
find a new interest aroused. The boys and 
girls will be ambitious to remember what they 
read, and be able to tell others about it. 
And just a word here as to the training of 
children to take care of books. If the}’ are 
made to look upon them a-s “friends” they will 
be careful in their treatment of them. No 
shabby volumes with broken or soiled covers 
and dog-eared pages will be visible. Furnish 
each little one with a set of tiook-sholves. 
These may be bought at a trifling expense or 
be “home-made,” or allow them to use the 
lower shelves in the library proper. Then re¬ 
quire them to replace each book after using, 
in a proper position. Let some penalty bo 
attached, some privilege forfeited should the 
order he disobeyed. Habits of order aud neat¬ 
ness will then be formed. 
I remember the evident pride which a little 
friend manifested as I visited her father’s li¬ 
brary. Pointing to the lowest shelf, “Those are 
Jack’s books. He hasn’t many because be has 
just, begun to read. Those on the next shelf 
are mine—all the books I have had since I was 
seven years. I’m nearly ten now and I have 
forty books. The third shelf belongs to Ag¬ 
nes. Site is almost thirteen and has nlnety- 
se yen. hooks. Only think! Nearly a hundred. 
We have to dust them and keep them nice.” 
Have your children gone beyond the “just 
beginning’’ stage. What myriads of volumes 
stand ready lor their eager brains. 
RHODA LANDER. 
GOLDEN GRAINS. 
Paul H. Haytje in Harpers: 
Is happiness a plant of mortal birth. 
Which, shrewdly cultured, crows iu gracious earth? 
Rather a heavenly glory, or bright dew, 
Slipped from t he bosom of the cloudless blue. 
On some fair morning, to the soul’s surprise, 
Fresh with the fragrance born in Paradise. 
There Is no soul without Its “Hush!” 
Life has surcease— 
Sweet restful pauses, when we hoar 
Some wondrous voice, low, sweet and clear 
Life hath surcease - 
Calm, holy hours, when we are "still,” 
And hush our souls to all God’s will, 
Iu perfect peace... 
Holmes says: The best of a book is not the 
thought which it contains, but the thought 
which it suggests, just, as the charm of music 
dwells not in the tones, but iu the echos of 
our hearts. 
An exchauge says; One of the chief causes of 
the repugnance of many worthy people to what 
goes under the name of “society” is the accu¬ 
mulation of false smiles, false speeches aud 
deceitful usages of all kinds which flourish in 
fashionable circles uuder the mistaken notion 
that th.'y arc a polite necessity. 
The man or woman who is discovered to be 
actually honest in deportmeut. and expression 
forms a center where the standard is planted 
aiul around which everything that is worth 
saving makes a gallant fight, for existence. It 
is notable how soon the vivacious, the frank 
man or woman inspires confidence amongst 
those who lack the impulse or the courage to 
fall into line with truth. 
TO be sincere does not imply rudeness. It 
is compatible with the most delicate tact and 
address, and may coexist, with all the graces. 
All that sincerity asks, so fur as social life is 
involved, is that men and women do not put 
themselves to trouble, to be false and makes an 
environment, of small deceits a necessary con¬ 
comitant of the act of meeting together for 
social purposes. Be graceful aud be courteous, 
but above all be sincere.. 
