1898 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
599 
on the part of the mother, in doctor’s 
bills, medicine, and nursing, to bring a 
child into the world, in a laboring-class 
family ; while in families where a higher 
standard of living prevails, this may 
amount to hundreds or even thousands 
of dollars. From a purely economic 
standpoint, it is of the utmost import¬ 
ance to society that a child which costs 
so much, not merely in money but in 
vital energy, should be reared to ma¬ 
turity. 
The appalling mortality of children 
that are born fairly normal and vital is 
chiefly to be accounted for by the ignor¬ 
ance of mothers. The average woman 
may not need to know how many bones 
there are in the body, but she does need 
to know the connection between rich 
gravies, indigestion, and bad colds. She 
may not need to know how to bandage a 
broken arm, but she does need to realize 
the effect of sudden changes of tempera¬ 
ture upon the delicate infant organism. 
The value of applied physiology in pre¬ 
serving infant life and diminishing he¬ 
reditary and individual disease cannot be 
overestimated, and no woman is fit to 
be married who has not had a training 
which gives her the elements of this 
essential knowledge. 
Finally, women need a training in 
ethical standards. One of the curious 
anomalies disclosed by the entrance of 
women into industrial life is that, while 
they have higher standards of purity 
than men, they frequently have much 
lower standards of honor and honesty. 
They do not hesitate to outwit, deceive, 
and “ manage ” difficult husbands ; they 
train their children in dishonesty by con¬ 
tinually violating the most common 
standards of sincerity and directness. 
Children learn far more by example than 
by precept; the mother who continually 
promises, but always finds excuses for 
not performing; who threatens, but does 
not punish ; who suppresses the child’s 
frank commentson evil actions in others, 
while herself gossiping about her neigh¬ 
bors ; who pretends to dress and to live 
above the scale of the family income, 
gives an education in dishonesty and 
sham which can not be overcome by any 
amount of so-called moral training. 
If to all these practical and utilitarian 
attainments the mother can add the 
graces of culture in music or art or 
literature, she may give the child aback- 
ground for education and a resource in 
life beyond the power of statistics to 
estimate. The elevation, enrichment, 
and sweetening of the family life by 
these contributions from the mother’s 
own storehouse of culture are a safe¬ 
guard against temptation from without 
not to be matched by legislation or train¬ 
ing, or even by church influence. To 
make the household sweet, wholesome, 
dignified, a place of growth, is certainly 
a profession requiring, not merely the 
best training, but a specific training 
adapted to these ends. 
On the Wing. 
WHERE THE SALT WINDS BLOW. 
NEW YOKE’S PLAIN PEOPLE AT PLAY. 
[editorial correspondence.] 
Going to the Beacii. —As a contrast 
to inland journeys among billowy wheat 
fields and vine-covered hillsides, a talk 
about one of the ocean playgrounds of 
New York suggests itself. The New 
Yorker has the choice of many breath¬ 
ing places in the Summer, but the most 
democratic of all is Coney Island, with 
its three beaches of varying character, 
from the expensive exclusiveness of 
Manhattan to the free-for-all hilarity of 
the West End. Undoubtedly there is 
much that is vicious at the West End— 
old Coney Island and West Brighton— 
hut during the early part of the day, its 
visitors are chiefly working people with 
their families, and though some of them 
are rough and noisy, they are decent 
people. It is not until later in the day 
that the disreputable element appears. 
It is now possible to journey from 
New York to the beach for five cents, by 
the trolley, and this enables the wives 
of workingmen to journey there with 
their families. I wouldn’t recommend 
that trolley route to any one who doesn’t 
like crowds ! Have you ever seen a rush 
in the foot-ball field, when the players 
become a confused mass of struggling 
limbs, with the ball buried somewhere 
in the crowd? Substitute one lone trol¬ 
ley-car for the football, and you may 
have some idea of a Coney Island crowd 
on a hot day. Accidents are frequent, 
and the scrambling crowd sheds enough 
hairpins, buttons and fragments of 
clothing to fit out a regiment of relic- 
hunters. However, this free-for-all 
tournament is a daily incident during 
the rush hours on the great bridge, and 
people grow accustomed to it. 
Tiie Boats and the Crowd. —On the 
iron steamers, landing at the great iron 
piers, the crowd is almost as great as on 
the trolley, and it is especially notice¬ 
able for the number of babies. I have 
always suspected that every woman who 
hasn’t a baby of her own borrows one 
for these occasions; in no other way can 
one fully account for the extent of the 
juvenile population. Some are round 
and rosy, alternately sleeping and shar¬ 
ing the other children’s lunch, eating 
crackers, bananas, peanuts, sandwiches, 
and a variety of other things not usually 
advised for the infantile digestion. I 
saw one small infant seated on its 
mother’s knee in an open-air restaurant 
at West Brighton, contentedly trying its 
first teeth on a plump, brown Frank¬ 
furter sausage! 
Some of the babies are poor little frail 
mites, showing the effects of crowded 
tenements; the tiny pinched faces 
brighten a little in the salt air, and be¬ 
fore the day is over, these pallid babies 
really begin to take an interest in life. 
Still another route takes one across New 
York Bay by boat, then by train for the 
rest of the way. Passing through fields 
where men are digging the famous Long 
Island potatoes, the sight of an occa¬ 
sional policeman is rather incongruous, 
until one realizes that we are still in 
Greater New York. 
Wading on the Beach —At Manhat¬ 
tan Beach, the gayety of a basket picnic 
is unknown; excursionists are not 
wanted, and one must not disturb the 
environs of the great hotel by so much 
as a surreptitious sandwich. The lines 
are not so tightly drawn at Brighton 
Beach, where every one flocks to the 
vicinity of the bathing pavilion ; but the 
children’s paradise is West Brighton. 
There is a long stretch of beach east of 
the Iron Pier, paved with fine silvery 
sand, where the children build forts and 
wade in the edge of the billows with in¬ 
tense enthusiasm. Sometimes half a 
dozen juveniles unite to dig a hole and 
partially bury one of their number until 
the victim is exhumed, very joyous and 
very gritty, by an indignant mother. 
It is quite pathetic to watch some 
small girl whose mother does not ap¬ 
prove of wading. She gazes longingly 
at her companions capering about minus 
shoes and stockings, and experiences a 
depression of spirits that even pop-corn 
fritters and peanuts fail to relieve. I 
saw one diplomatic small girl, who was 
refused the privilege of wading, wander 
abstractedly into shallow water, which 
so soaked her footgear, that her indig¬ 
nant mother had to remove it to dry. 
Then the miniature Sagasta joined the 
others in racing the incoming waves, all 
uniting in shrieks of rapture when an 
extra-large billow pursued them high on 
the beach. Sometimes a small wader 
with high-kilted petticoats would stand 
gazing inland until a chorus of treble 
screams warned her that a wall of green 
water was sneaking up behind with the 
intention of drenching her, and then 
MOTHERS.—Be sure to use “Mrs. Wins¬ 
low’s Soothing Syrup ” for your children 
while Teething. It is the Best.— Adv. 
there would be a stampede for higher 
ground, as the waves broke into curling 
foam. Then the waders sit upon their 
sand forts, and devour an extensive 
lunch, prob *bly for the sixth time that 
morning. 
Among the Shows. —When one meets 
a visitor of the better class wandering 
about the west end of the island, he gen¬ 
erally explains, apologetically, that he 
had to go there to please the children 
with a trip on a merry-go-round or 
scenic railway. It is something like the 
man who has to go to the circus, merely 
to please the children. The less pre¬ 
tentious visitors do not make any such 
apologies ; they go to the West End be¬ 
cause they like it. It is a place of noise, 
bustle and confusion, full of strange 
sights, strange sounds, and strange 
odors, and there is no doubt that, upon 
a holiday, or towards evening, it is not 
the place one would care to visit. I think, 
however, that people always find their 
own level, and one of vicious inclinations 
will always find scenes of like nature. 
This village of shows is ugly and sordid, 
and the conflicting sounds of brass 
bands, merry-go-rounds, hurdy-gurdies 
and drums make it a veritable Babel. 
Its places of amusement are an imitation 
Midway of cheap construction, rendered 
still more confusing by the open-air lec¬ 
turers (described in the slang of the 
place as “ barkers ”) who try to induce 
visitors to enter. The 5 and 10-eent pho¬ 
tograph galleries are innumerable, each 
one with a wandering agent who rushes 
about with a frame full of pictures, look¬ 
ing for fresh victims. 
There are numerous merry-go-rounds, 
furnished with impossible wooden ani¬ 
mals and with music which ought to be 
impossible—unfortunately it isn't. The 
scenic railway, on which one journeys to 
the Klondike with a celerity which would 
be much appreciated by Alaskan voy¬ 
agers, is rivaled by the chutes, and num¬ 
erous other uncanny structures of the 
toboggan type, to say nothing of several 
Ferris wheels and a lofty observation 
tower. 
Some of the Refreshments. —Open- 
air restaurants are numerous, and natur¬ 
ally sea-food predominates. Clam chow¬ 
der of dubious origin is a leading viand, 
and clam fritters form another promi¬ 
nent feature. I have a good deal of 
curiosity about unknown dishes, and 
have tested Mexican, Chinese, Japanese, 
Turkish, and Hungarian mysteries with¬ 
out serious misgivings ; but my courage 
has always failed before a Coney Island 
clam fritter. It looks like a swollen, 
irregular fragment of pale brown dough, 
suggestive in size and outline of the 
delicacy known in Chicago as a Bismarck. 
Passing an open booth where a soiled in¬ 
dividual was frying these fritters in a 
kettle of reeking fat, the cook called 
out persuasively, “ Have some fritters, 
loidy, an’ yer won’t need no udder 
lunch.” The “loidy” addressed felt 
quite sure that these fritters would 
render any other food unnecessary and 
superfluous. Milk fresh from the cow is 
another refreshment offered, the animal 
in question being a gigantic bovine 
which supplies iced milk, whose attend¬ 
ant looks as though he ought to be Pas¬ 
teurized. 
Bathing and the Beach. —The Coney 
Island beaches are being encroached 
upon by the sea year after year. Every 
big Spring storm washes away yards and 
yards of the sand, and buildings which, 
10 years ago, faced a wide stretch of 
There is but one good 
make of lamp-chimneys — 
Macbeth — and your dealer 
knows it. 
You want the Index.. 
Write Macbeth Pittsburgh Pa 
e $9.50 3UYS A VICTOR MACmsI 
Adapted to Light and Heavy Work. Reliable and Pine\ 
Ptn>«b»d; Guaranteed for 10 Tears. Write for 40 Fage Cat* 
logue. AttaehaenU Free. ISC I>AYb FRF* TRIAL. Addre* 
opt.f 1CT0K MFti. CO*, ItfkM 
white sand, are now protected by great 
bulkheads and heavy walls, against 
which the sea beats hungrily. The surf 
is not so rough as at Atlantic City, where 
the water comes in like a great green 
wall, and except under some conditions, 
there is little undertow, so that there is 
little danger in bathing. 
Men patrol the beach to give assist¬ 
ance, if needed, and a boat is constantly 
hovering near the bathers. One of the 
men attached to this service stated that 
he averaged 25 rescues a year. Asked 
whether the people were grateful, he 
said : “ Well, no, not as a general thing. 
Most of them go off without even saying, 
Thank you ! I suppose they think it’s 
my business. One man once gave me $10, 
but very few give anything. Some of 
them are very troublesome, too, and I 
have quite a struggle with them. They’re 
generally people who are proud of their 
swimming, and go out farther than they 
ought. It is very rarely that any one is 
drowned here.” e. t. r. 
B.&B. 
Choice Silks. 
This store always sells lots of 
silks—and to do that requires 
merit. It buys extensively—had 
what was said to be the largest 
silk stock in the country—and 
every piece must answer strictly 
to choiceness before it’s bought. 
Selling now the large lots of 
odd pieces—none to be carried 
over—prices so low as will not 
leave any doubt about their 
being sold when people see the 
fine styles sacrificed. Blacks, 
fancies, broches, evening shades. 
Lines of rich novelty silks, 
35, 50, 65, 75c.—one-half and one- 
third regular price. 
Chance to get fine silks for a 
waist or gown, or for trimming 
like nothing that ever occurred 
here, or, we believe, anywhere, 
in silk-selling before. Get sam¬ 
ples—let the silks and prices 
prove it. 
BOGGS & BUHL, 
Dept. C. Allegheny, Pa. 
A FARM LUXURY. 
No pei’son, whether rich or poor, in 
city or country, can have a cheaper or 
more delicious luxury than a plate of 
ice cream made right on the farm with 
all its smoothness and richness, and 
freshness and delicacy. We have never 
seen a sample of the city product to com¬ 
pare with that made on the farm. All 
that you need to make it is a little ice 
and a four-quart White Mountain freezer. 
We can get the freezer for you, so that 
it will cost you very little. Get one of 
your neighbors to give you a dollar for 
a year’s subscription to The Rural New- 
Yorker, send his name and address and 
$2.25, and we will have the freezer sent 
you at once. Your neighbor will get 
the paper for a year, and you may throw 
in a treat of your first make of cream. 
The freezer is made by the White 
Mountain Freezer Co., Nashua, N. II., 
and we know of nothing else so good. 
We will send it free for a club of six 
yearly subscriptions at $1 each. 
The Rural New-Yorker, New York. 
