1900 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
855 
The Catnip Garden. 
EUGENE FIELD’S STORY OF NEW ENGLAND 
CATNIP AND COLORADO CATS 
Part I 
Once upon a time there lived in the 
beautiful city of Denver a certain 
gentleman of the name of Toll, and he 
was a judge. All over the State of 
Colorado and elsewhere, too, the judge 
was famed for his goodness and his 
learning. In fact, he was so good and 
so learned that one Christmas Eve Santa 
Claus came and brought him a sweet 
little baby son. The judge was very 
proud. 
“I will rear this little son to be a 
good and great jurist,” said he, “and 
when I am old and feeble he will be the 
staff and comfort of my age.” 
One of the first things Judge Toll did 
was to hire a nurse to take care of the 
pretty little boy, for it so happened, 
sadly enough, that the baby’s mother 
was not strong enough to carry the baby 
and amuse it all the time. The nurse 
was a kindly old lady, who had lived 
away down in the far East, where there 
were many, many baby girls, and some 
baby boys, so she knew about babies and 
-just how to take care of them. 
This baby was very fond of his nurse; 
and he would lie in her lap and admire 
her antique style of architecture, or 
would pat her wrinkled cheeks and coo 
the sweetest baby music imaginable. 
This made Judge Toll very happy. 
“How handsome the baby is,” he 
would say to himself, “and what a great 
jurist he will become!” 
But one day the old nurse came to 
the judge and said: “We must do some¬ 
thing for the baby.” 
The judge was vastly astonished. 
“You surely do not mean to tell me 
that the baby is sick?” he exclaimed. 
“No, not exactly sick,” said the old 
nurse, “but he needs toning up. He is 
fat and strong and contented, but there 
is a kind of look in his eyes that tells 
me that he needs a tonic.” 
“Then we will call the doctor.” 
“There is no need of that,” protested 
the old nurse. “The doctor would laugh 
at you and say that the baby was all 
right. But I know just as well as I 
know anything that the child needs ton¬ 
ing up.” 
“Well, then, what shall it be?” asked 
Judge Toll. “Paregoric, squills, castor 
oil, hive syrup, belladonna?” 
“None of them,” answered the old 
nurse, “for they are all drugs ,and the 
baby doesn’t need drugs. What he needs 
is toning up.” 
The judge said nothing—he did not 
know what to say. Of law, politics, of 
mining, of literature and of other 
worldly things he knew much, but of 
baby tonics he knew simply nothing. 
“What the baby needs is catnip tea,” 
sid the old nurse. “Nothing will tone 
up a baby’s system like catnip tea. 
Down in Vermont an’ Maine an’ Mass’- 
chusetts they always bring up their 
babies on catnip tea, an’ that’s why their 
babies make such smart men an’ 
women.” 
“But I thought catnip was something 
cats ate,” interposed me judge. 
“Law, me, an’ so it is,” said the old 
nurse, “but it’s just as likely living for 
human folks. Why, ihere’s nothin’ in 
the world that’ll tone up a weak system 
like a bowl of strong catnip tea. I hate 
to see this blessed child pinin’ for what’d 
be the makin’ of him.” 
“I know nothing about it at all,” said 
Judge Toll, “but If you say tiiAt the 
baby needs catnip, I will get some for 
him.” 
Judge Toll went all over town after 
catnip, into every drug store, every 
grocery, and every doctor’s office, but 
not a sprig of it could h. find anywhere. 
“You will have to send East for it,” 
the druggists said, “it doesn’t grow out 
here in Colorado. 
“Then send East for it I will!” cried 
Judge Toll. And so he did. That very 
night he wrote to an old college friend 
in Massachusetts, informing him of his 
dilemma and asking nim to send forth¬ 
with a goodly supply of catnip, no mat¬ 
ter how much it cost.” 
“Well, in about three weeks’ time 
there came along a large express pack¬ 
age from the East and when the judge 
opened it he found that it contained 
forty-nine bunches of green catnip. Oh! 
how fresh and fragrant they were, and 
how their green leaves and assertive 
odors took one back to the ferny wild 
woods of dear old Yankeeland! 
“The baby shall have catnip tea three 
times a day, now!” cried the judge. 
“Here’s enough to last a year,” said 
the old nurse. 
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do, we’ll plant 
some of these bunches in the yard, an' 
whenever we need a few leaves for a 
tea we can step out and pluck them. 
So we will have an ever-increasin' 
supply. 
“That’s a good plan,” said the judge. 
“We will plant these healing herbs at 
once and they shall beautify and per¬ 
fume our premises.” 
That afternoon Judge Toll planted the 
catnip herb in pretty rows in his front 
yard, and thereafter carefully irrigated 
them every morning and evening. It 
was surprising how soon the plants took 
root, and in less than seven days were 
as flourishing in their adopted soil as 
they would have been on the hills of 
Vermont. Whenever the old nurse 
wanted to make a tea, she stepped out 
into the yard and plucked a few catnip 
leaves, steeped them in hot water, and 
there it was as natural a catnip tea as 
ever simmered on a stove or trickled 
down a baby’s throat. The catnip 
bushes meanwhile thrived, and shot out 
fresh sprigs and leaves and their fra¬ 
grance filled the air for a great dis¬ 
tance. 
Uncle Seth Cooley, who lived on 
Capitol hill, one morning hobbled down 
to the Toll place and leaned over the 
fence and gazed tenderly at the thrifty 
herb. 
“Jest as nat’ral as ever,” said Uncle 
Seth, slowly, and sadly, as his nostrils 
dilated. “Jest as nat’ral as when Mitiy 
an’ I used to go huckleberryin’ in the 
medder, near the plum trees, out in Pel¬ 
ham. Say, jedge, you wouldn’t mind 
givin’ me a bookay on ’em, would you? 
I’d kind o’ like to smell ’em and take 
’em home to Mitty.” And old Mrs. 
Baxter came over from Evans' addition 
and begged a “bookay,” too. She cried 
softly over the coarse green leaves, as 
if the sight of them awakened memories 
of the time when old Uncle Dan’l and 
she started out in life together in a little 
frame cottage “at Dummerston, on the 
West river, jest six miles f’m Battle- 
boro.” Oh, yes, the Yankee folk came 
from all parts of the city of Denver to 
see that wonderful front yard, to pluck 
the catnip leaves and to tell marvelous 
stories of the cures the herb had ef¬ 
fected. And all this time the rows of 
catnip kept growing and growing, and 
the fragrance went up, and was wafted 
hither and thither by the breezes. 
Help on the Farm. 
Though one often hears in the coun¬ 
try the remark, “It must be so pleasant 
to live in town where one can go easily 
and have so many privileges,” yet I 
know of several families who have gone 
into town for a time to educate their 
children, and then returned gladly to 
the farm. I think the help question has 
more to do with the migration than any 
question of society or loneliness. It is 
becoming more and more difficult to find 
girls who are willing to work in the 
country even within a mile or two of 
town. One family near us, has been 
obliged to let out their farm on shares 
and move into town, because ihe wife 
had become wornout and could not 
procure reliable help in the house. The 
MOTHERS.—Be sure to use“Mrs.Wins- 
low’s Soothing Syrup” for your children 
while Teething. It is the Beat.— Adv. 
husband said, “I like farming and can 
find plenty of good men to work, when 
my wife cannot find one woman.” I 
have watched eagerly for some one to 
give her experience in The R. N.-Y. 
with the maid on the farm, but so far 
nave seen nothing. It was my lot for 
several years after marriage to have a 
large family, and require help. The 
maids employed were Americans, neat 
in their persons at meals, specially if 
there was company, and lived, as is the 
custom in the country, with the family. 
They had comfortable rooms, warmed 
in Winter, materials for the toilet in 
those rooms, and a lamp for their own 
particular use. As I look back now I 
felt keenly the responsibility of training 
them with precept and example in mind, 
manners and morals. They had good 
entertaining and instructive reading, 
were gently admonished as to behavior, 
and taught the care of their wardrobe. 
Did it pay? Sometimes I became very 
much discouraged, and almost consid¬ 
ered it “casting pearls before swine” to 
try to help them, but now some of them 
come back to me for interest and sym¬ 
pathy in their homemaking, and I am 
thankful I at least did not hinder them 
in making good wives and mothers, and 
pernaps helped them, while redeeming 
my own accountability. Surely we are 
all servants, the mistress as well as 
maid, and in duty bound to serve our 
best “in His name,” whetner it be in 
working ourselves or in overseeing the 
work of others, and our influence is 
what we make it. We sow the seeds 
that may lie dormant years, yet we, and 
we only, are responsible for the kind of 
seed we sow, and though the harvest 
may be slow in coming, some day we 
may hear the “‘Well done faithful ser¬ 
vant.” MOLLIE WIGGINS. 
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