426 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
June 6 
From Day to Day. 
UNCLR ABNER’S PHILOSOPHY. 
1 ain’t a-makin’ much complaint agin this 
world of ours; 
I know there’s lots of weeds that ain’t 
producin’ lovely flowers; 
But if they wasn’t growin’ here to scattci’ 
seeds around 
The birds ’d eat up everything we planted 
in the ground. 
I ain’t a-flndin’ fault because sometimes 
the ground’s too wet. 
For plowin’ or for plantin’; laws! there’s 
dry days cornin’ yet; 
And when the rain is pourin’ down ns busy 
as it can 
It’s fun to get the checkers out and beat 
the hired man. 
I know the weak must serve the strong, 
and yet I don’t complain; 
Per nearly everything that’s wrong there’s 
something that we gain; 
If all affairs was perfect we’d have no ex¬ 
cuse to go 
To meetin’ fer to set ’em straight and so 
rest up, you know. 
—S. E. Kiser, in Chicago Record-Herald. 
* 
BbUE-FbAME oil stoves witk asbestos 
wicks are very highly recommended; 
they are infinitely superior to the old 
style. The shape is similar to a gas 
stove. With two burners, such a stove 
costs $5 to $6; three burners, $7.50. An 
oven with asbestos lining costs $2.75. 
* 
A LITTLE ironing board about 18 
inches long, neatly padded and covered, 
and slipped into a cretonne bag, is a 
useful thing for a woman who boards, 
who may often wish to press some of her 
belongings. Various little gas and spirit 
lamps are seen which are useful for 
heating an iron, and the ironing board is 
a distinct gain in convenience. Such a 
prepared board, with iron holder accom- 
])anying, may prove a very .salable ar¬ 
ticle at a fair or bazar. 
* 
We heard recently of an amateur gar¬ 
dener who didn’t even “know beans”; 
consequently, when the little seedlings 
pushed through, each carrying a bean on 
its head, he was very much shocked by 
their unorthodox manner of growing. 
After deep thought he decided that he 
would not allow his bean crop to be 
ruined tbrough its ignorance of the right 
way of coming through the ground, so 
he pulled all the seedlings up and re¬ 
planted them the other way down, where 
a good seed ought to be. The future of 
that bean crop is not a promising one. 
* 
T.\lkinu recently with a city-bred girl 
of more than average intelligence, we 
were amused to hear her refer to a bee 
as a “bug.” In response to our com¬ 
ment on the disrespectful title applied 
to this intelligent little socialist, she 
laughed and said: “But reaiiy, isn’t a 
bee a bug? I thought all those little 
creeping and crawling and flying crea¬ 
tures were nothing but bugs.” Many of 
us take a similar view, and divide all 
“bugs” into two classes—those that an¬ 
noy us with intrusion or depredation, 
and those that do not. A little knowl¬ 
edge on the subject opens up a new 
world to us—a very wonderful world, 
full of fairy-like transformations. A 
book recently issued on this subject, 
which would be found very useful for 
private or school instruction was lately 
referred to in The R. N.-Y., “Elemen¬ 
tary Studies in Insect Life,” by Prof. 
Samuel J. Hunter of the University of 
Kansas. It is divided into two parts, 
the first dealing with the growth of in¬ 
sects, their habits and surroundings, 
while the second part tells how to collect 
insects and classify them. The study of 
living insects and their transformations 
in captivity is often deeply interesting 
—that is, if the captives remain in cap¬ 
tivity—which they are not aiways in¬ 
clined to do. We once knew some en¬ 
thusiastic young naturalists who. after 
divers unhappy experiences with hor¬ 
nets, saddle-backs, and other entomolo¬ 
gical specimens addicted to the strenu¬ 
ous life, finally settled upon the Cab¬ 
bage butterfly as a mild-mannered crea¬ 
ture who.se life cycle could be studied 
with profit. They made nice little pens 
covered with wire netting and planted 
in a park-like manner with little cab¬ 
bages; collected eggs, and watched 
them hatch with great interest. Then 
there was a temporary lapse; the fid¬ 
dler crabs near the broad river were 
amusing, and fishing was good, so be¬ 
yond a daily watering of the cabbages, 
now badly skeletonized, the caterpillars 
were neglected. One day, when the 
naturalists came home proudly bearing 
a string of bony mossbunkers, they 
were met by an indignant mother who 
pointed out a procession of velvety 
green caterpillars calmly walking up¬ 
stairs. Just why those caterpillars de¬ 
termined to hibernate in the bedrooms 
wo could never understand, but for a 
few days they were unpleasantly sug¬ 
gestive of the plagues of Egypt, and 
for months afterwards an occasional 
chrysalis was to be found in a bonnet 
box, or bureau drawer, or some similar 
unorthodox place. The result was a 
parental ban against insect captives 
anywhere near the house, and the young 
naturalists had to reserve their enthu¬ 
siasm for their pet toads and turtles, 
who were Loo well-bred to intrude upon 
the family circle. 
Barzillai’s Imaginary Farming. 
Barzillai Foster was the most pro¬ 
gressive, up-to-date farmer in town, but 
you would not have suspected it to look 
at his place. In fact, if no smoke issued 
from the chimney and if the owner did 
not appear, you would have taken it to 
be an abandoned farm. Even if Barzil¬ 
lai had come upon the scene you would 
have supposed that he was some tramp, 
who had been sojourning in the dilapi¬ 
dated house. And yet, Barzillai was 
prosperous and progressive in his own 
peculiar way. His old barn was full of 
imaginary cows, giving the richest of 
milk. The old dairy-house was equipped 
with the latest of modern improve¬ 
ments—an imaginary separator, run hy 
an imaginary gasoline engine, which 
also furnished power to churn the im¬ 
aginary cream into gilt-edged butter, 
which he sold to imaginary customers 
in town. The gasoline engine was used 
when filling the two enormous imagin¬ 
ary silos, though there was an imagin¬ 
ary windmill to supi)ly house and barn 
with running water. Of course, with so 
much stock and so much land under 
cultivation, there was a good deal of 
work to do, but Barzillai kept two im¬ 
aginary hired men, so that he had sim¬ 
ply to oversee things. In the house he 
had a most charming imaginary wife 
and several very smart imaginary chil¬ 
dren, and he considered himself one of 
the most fortunate men in the world. 
To be sure, once in a while he would 
awaken to the fact that there was noth¬ 
ing to eat in the house and no credit at 
the store, but there was a simple way 
out of this difficulty; he would work a 
few days for some neighbor and earn 
enough to stock up with food, and then 
he would go back to his imaginary 
farmin' Help was scarce and he might 
have ad steady work the year around 
—and he was a good worker, too. Being 
very conscientious he wanted to make 
sure that he earned his money. “It 
usually drags some the first day,” 
said Israel Gage, for whom Barzillai 
worked most often, “but after we get 
two or three good meals of victuals into 
him I wouldn’t ask for a better worker; 
there ain’t a lazy bone in his body, then. 
It’s his living all alone so, and grubbing 
himself, that makes him so shiftless 
and good-for-nothing.” 
The women of the neighborhood 
spoke of Barzillai’s housekeeping in 
lowered voices. They did not know 
much about it. for the men who called 
on him were either non-committal or 
else not observing. There were some 
among the women folks who would 
have held it no crime to go and look in 
at the windows some day when Barzil¬ 
lai was not at home. Perhaps he knew 
this; for he kept his curtains all tightly 
drawn. That his housekeeping was 
fearful and wonderful was surmised 
from his being a man, and Mrs. Gage 
had once seen into his kitchen, when 
going to the door on an errand for her 
husband. “I only got one glimpse,” she 
would say, “for he shut the door quick 
and stood on the door-stone uO speak to 
me, but I saw enough. I have said I’d 
like to go over the house, but I take it 
all back.” 
If Barzillai knew how people talked 
he did not care. He read and studied 
agricultural papers, and conducted his 
farming wisely, and as for the indoor 
work, his imaginary wife was a model 
housekeeper. There were one or two of 
the best fields that Barzillai made a pre¬ 
tense of mowing each year, but the rest 
of the farm was running down as fast 
as possible, and the buildings were rap¬ 
idly going to destruction. 
And then, one Spring, something hap¬ 
pened. Barzillai fell in love. It was 
very early in the Spring, and he had 
just finished filling his imaginary ice 
house, and was making plans for put¬ 
ting up still another imaginary silo and 
a new hay barn that season, so he was 
particularly busy. But when he fell in 
love, it put a stop to all that. At first 
he thought that it was his imagination, 
and that he was not really in love, but 
its being a real woman made it rather 
too confusing, and he decided that it 
must be genuine. It was strange too, 
for he had known Beulah Gage ever 
since they had been school children to¬ 
gether. To be sure he had not seen 
much of her for some years, till this 
Winter, when she had come to live with 
her brother’s family. 
And now what was he to do? He 
would have to ask her to marry him, 
and he might as well do it at once and 
have it over. Of course she would re¬ 
fuse—though stranger things had hap¬ 
pened—and then it would be off his 
mind and he could go about his busi¬ 
ness as before. As it was he could not 
put his mind on the new silo nor any¬ 
thing else. Even after this decision he 
waited some little time to get sufficient 
courage, and it was with great trepida¬ 
tion that he approached the subject, for 
you must remember that he was really 
in love. 
He used the same words in making 
his proposal that he had used when he 
asked his imaginary wife to marry him, 
for he argued that as they had been 
suitable and successful onco they might 
be again. 
And Beulah said yes, even as the im¬ 
aginary Mrs. Poster had done, and Bar¬ 
zillai was in a state of mind. His im¬ 
aginary family had to be disposed of at 
once, and he got up a railway accident 
for the purpose. Beulah approved of a 
short engagement, and they planned for 
a June wedding. Their prospective 
marriage excited much comment. Not 
only was Beulah considered foolish to 
take up with a fellow like Barzillai, but 
people also said that Barzillai was mak¬ 
ing a mistake, and that he ought to 
have a wife who would be a spur to 
him, one who had some force of char¬ 
acter and will power. Some of this talk 
came to Barzillai’s ears, but he only 
smiled in a superior way and said he 
guessed he knew what he was up to. 
But he did not know anything about it. 
Once or twice he noticed a queer look 
in Beulah’s blue eyes, but he did not 
know what it meant and it did not trou¬ 
ble him. 
It was not till they had been married 
for some weeks that Barzillai took his 
wife into his confidence about his im¬ 
aginary farming. It was a Sunday af¬ 
ternoon and they had been taking a 
stroll over the farm. They sat down at 
the top of a little hill that overlooked 
the farm buildings. Barzillai did not 
know how his wife would take to his 
ideas, so he began in a tentative way. 
Beulah listened with flattering atten¬ 
tion, and before he was quite aware of 
it Barzillai was telling her the whole 
story and laying his plans for the fu¬ 
ture before her. Beulah looked in his 
animated face and her own glowed with 
enthusiasm. When he had finished she 
spoke eagerly, 
“Oh, Barzillai!” she cried, “it is 
glorious! I never imagined anything so 
perfectly beautiful, and the best part of 
it is we can make it come true—we toill 
make it come true.” There was a de¬ 
termined ring to her voice. 
Barzillai’s face fell a little, and he 
gave an embarrassed laugh. “Oh, no,” 
he said, “we couldn’t make it come 
true.” 
“We will,” Beulah repeated firmly. 
“It will be hard work, of course, but 
think what a grand thing to do! We’ll 
begin to-morrow, and we’ll work to¬ 
ward that object every day.” 
Barzillai looked at her strangely. It 
was as if he had never seen her before. 
She seemed the very embodiment of in¬ 
flexible will power. If he had come 
A MEMORY OF THE PAST. FiO. 1.52. 
