1901 
6o3 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
The Cow Cure. 
I was so surprised thalt I actually 
tumbled off my wheel and stood staring 
like an idiot till Elsie brought me to 
my senses by asking if I could not 
speak to her. You see it was three 
mouths since I had seen her, and since 
we had broken off our engagement. It 
wasn’t any lovers’ quarrel, you under¬ 
stand. We thought just as much of 
each other as ever, and it almosit broke 
our hearts, but her health gave out, and 
she thought, and in fact I did too, that 
she was going into a decline. She had 
doctored and tried this, that and the 
other, till finally we both gave up in 
despair, and she declared that she could 
never marry me. Well, at about that 
time her uncle Jason, who has a farm 
out about 50 miles, wrote her to come 
iind \isit him and he’d undertake to 
cure her. It was nearly June, and the 
thought of the country was very invit¬ 
ing, end she decided to go. I know she 
diu not expect to come back alive, and I 
didn’t have much hopes, either, so our 
parting wasn’t cheerful. 'She told me 
not to wriite to her, as the sooner I for¬ 
got her the better, and all that. Well, 
the next few months were not very 
happy, I can tell you. 
One day I got a letter from Uncle Ja¬ 
son. In it he said, “I think if you can 
come out within a week, Elsie will be 
able to see you.” You can imagine what 
a state that put me in. I expected I’d 
find her dying. Uncle Jason went on to 
tell me how to come, and I’d be>tter 
bring my bicycle and ride from the sta¬ 
tion on that, and he gave me minute di¬ 
rections about roads. Well, I started 
early the next morning, and it was a 
little after 10 when I was spinning along 
the road towards the farm. Then, all 
at once, as I said, I tumbled off my 
wheel. 
There, by the side of the road, sitting 
on a camp stool with a book in her lap, 
was Elsie. Near by was a big red cow 
lying down and chewing her cud. She 
bad on a halter with a long rope, and 
Elsie had the end of the rope in one 
hand. All this was surprising enough, 
but the change in Elsie was the most 
surprising of all. The last time I had 
seen her she was a thin, pale, nervous 
wreck, but now she was the picture of 
health, with her eyes bright and a 
healthy, sunburnt color in her face. I 
didn’t ask her then what had made the 
change, for you see we had more im- 
pontant things to discuss first. In about 
tw'o minutes we wei'e engaged all over 
again, and we even began to make some 
plans for the wedding. 
Just then that cow got up and began 
to move off, and Elsie, in the most mat- 
ter-of-fadt way in the world, gathered 
uj' her camp stool, put her book in the 
Boston bag she had beside her, and 
started to follow the cow. They went 
along to a new piece of grass where the 
cow began to eat, and then Elsie opened 
the camp stool again and sat down. I 
had watched the performance in amaze¬ 
ment, and when Elsie looked up at me, 
she laughed. 
“Do you see any difference in my 
looks?” she asked. ‘ Do you remember 
what a wreck I was before I came here, 
with ‘nerves’, insomnia, dyspepsia and 
all sorts of aches and paJins? Why, 
now I am as well and strong as any¬ 
body. I sleep nine hours every night, I 
can walk 10 miles and not get over¬ 
tired, and just see this,” and she drew 
her sleeve tight and doubled up her arm 
to show the biceps muscles. 
“I see,” I said. “It is wonderful! But 
whalt has done it? Uncle Jason ought 
to start a sanatorium.” 
“It is the cow cure,” said Elsie sober¬ 
ly, “and it is a great discovery.” Here 
the cow moved on again, and Elsie fol¬ 
lowed. 
“There!” she said. “I'm going to tie 
her to this tree while I tell you about 
it I don’t think Uncle Jason will care 
just this once, and she does interrupt 
so.” When the cow was tied, she began. 
“I had been here a week, and 1 was 
as miserable as ever, for all that I could 
see. Uncle Jason watched me closely, 
and seemed to be worried, but he didn’t 
say a word. Finally one night aJt the 
supper table, I said, ‘Well, Uncle Jason, 
I don t seem to have improved under 
your treatment. I’ve been here long 
enough to show some improvement, but 
I’m not a bit better. I haven’t any ap¬ 
petite, I don’t sleep, and I’m tired all 
the time.’ 
“His face had been troubled and he 
appeared to be thinking deeply, but he 
didn’t answer. Pretty soon he looked 
up and his face cleared suddenly. ‘I 
have it,’ he said. ‘You see I didn’t un¬ 
derstand the case thoroughly at first, 
and I thought that just simple country 
living would be all tliat was necessary, 
but I see now that you need something 
more radical, and I’m going to try the 
cow cure on you.’ 
“ ‘The cow cure?’ I salid. ‘What do 
you mean?’ 
“ ‘Wait till to-morrow,’ he said, and I 
couldn’t get another word out of him, 
excepit that I must go to bed early and 
get all the rest I could.” 
Elsie paused and looked at her watch. 
“Why, it is dinner time,” she cried, and 
she immediately opened the Boston bag. 
She seemed surprised. “Do you know?” 
she said, “I have been worrying almost 
ever since you came about dinner. I 
knew I should have to divide with you, 
and I didn’it see how I could stand half 
rations with my desperate appetite!” 
“Well, if that isn’t a compliment!” I 
said. “I guess I’ll go home.” 
“No, don’t,” she cried, her face color¬ 
ing deeply. *‘I know I’m horrid to think 
or such a thing, but you know, Fred, I’d 
share my last crust with you, and I 
never would have let you know, only, 
don’t you see. Aunt Lucy has put in 
twice as much dinner as usual, so there’s 
plenty for us both. I wonder how she 
happened to do it. 'She must have been 
thinking of something else.” 
“She knew I was coming,” I said, and 
then I told her about Uncle Jason’s let¬ 
ter. 
Elsie’s eyes filled. “Isn’t he lovely?” 
she said. “He knew that you were all 
that was necessary to my complete re¬ 
covery.” 
“Now go on about the cow cure,” I 
said, when we had eaten our dinner. 
The cow was chewing her cud, now, so 
Elsie went on without interruption. 
“The next morning after breakfast. 
Uncle Jason said it was time to begin 
the new treatment. He took me out in 
the yard. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘is a cow, and 
here is a camp stool. Along the road is 
plenty of feed which is going to waste. 
The cow is gentle, so you need noit be 
afraid of her. Lelt her feed along as she 
pleases, but don’t let her get tuto any¬ 
one’s fields if you can help it. Oh, and 
here’s some lunch for you. If you can’t 
manage to bring her back. I’ll come and 
get you towards night.’ 
“With that he set me adrift. The cow 
took me along at her own sweet will. 
I’d sit awhile on the camp stool, and 
then I’d have to get up and follow 
wherever she choose to lead. Once I 
had a hard struggle with her, trying to 
keep her out of a field. A boy happened 
along and helped me. He looked at me 
curiously, and asked if that wasn’t one 
o£ Torrey’s cows, and I thought he re¬ 
garded me as either a thief or an es¬ 
caped lunatic. 
“Well, somehow, watching that cow 
eat gave me a fearful appetite, but the 
parcel of lunch was so small that it 
didn’t seem as if it would be a drop in 
the bucket. I didn’t have time to open 
it, the cow kept me so occupied, tili she 
lay down and began to chew her cud. 
Then I undid the paper and found— 
what do you think? Four rather small, 
hard, oatmeal crackers. I felt so hun¬ 
gry and abused that I could have cried. 
I began to eat, and then it struck me 
that I would chew each mouthful as long 
as the cow chewed each mouthful of her 
cud. It worked beautifully, and made 
the crackers last a long time. 
“Well, that was an awful day. I 
couldn’t get the cow home. 'She would 
start in the right direction, and then 
her mood would change and she would 
go the wrong way in spite of my pull¬ 
ing with all my strength. 
“Finally, at about five o’clock, Uncle 
Jason came and led the cow home, and 
I plodded along after them. Oh, how 
tired I was! Uncle Jason wouldn’t let 
me eat much supper, and then I went 
right to bed. I slept like a log all night, 
and in the morning I felt better than I 
had for a long time, although there 
were lame spots all over me. 
“Every fair day since then I have gone 
out with the cow. Gradually they in¬ 
creased the size of my dinner, and for 
a month I have been allowed to carry a 
book. I began to be able to control the 
animal, and now I can make her do as 
I like. 
“I have tried to make Uncle Jason let 
me give up taking her out, but he would 
not hear of it. I told him I felt so lazy 
and shiftless, spending my time that 
fl? 1 
3898 Boy’s Norfolk Suit, 
4 to 12 yrs 
way, and he said I’d have to feel that 
way a long while before I’d be cured of 
the insatiable desire to be busy every 
minute, which I had acquired by living 
in the city. 
“But now”—and a look of determina¬ 
tion cjame into her face—“I’m going to 
declare mystdf a graduate of the cow 
cure.” She rose to her feet. “You may 
take the bag and the stool, Fred. Come 
along, Betsy .lane.” And with that we 
all started. 
She turned the cow in at the lane bars, 
and then we went on to the house. Uncle 
Jason met us at the door. Elsie went 
up to him and put her arms about his 
neck. “You are the best doctor and the 
best uncle in the whole world,” she 
said. “And, Fred,” she added, looking 
down at her clothes, “you must visit 
with Uncle Jason awhile, and when you 
see me again I shall not be a person of 
‘bovine fiavors,’ as Dr. Holmes used to 
say,” and with that she disappeared in¬ 
side the house. 
' SUSAN BROWN ROBBINS. 
The Rural Patterns 
The sailor suit shown is of marine 
blue linen with collar, cuffs and shield 
of white stitched bands of the blue, and 
tie of soft blue silk. The skirt has a 
front gore joined to wide, straight back 
portions that are laid in three box pleats 
on each side, and is attached to a 
fitted body lining. The blouse is smoo'th 
across the shoulders and can be made 
with or without the applied yoke. An 
elastic inserted in the hem at the lower 
edge regulates the fullness and allows 
of drawing the blouse over the head 
without an opening in front. The sailor 
collar is seamed to the neck and the 
shield is faced on to the body lining, the 
standing collar finishing it at the throat. 
The sleeves are in bishop style with 
straight cuffs. To cuit this suit for a 
girl eight years of age, 5V^ yards of ma¬ 
terial 27 inches wide, 4^4 yards 32 inches 
wide, or ZVi yards 44 inches wide will 
be required. The pattern No. 3880 is cut 
in sizes for girls 4, 6, 8, 10 and 12 years 
of age; price 10 cents from this office. 
The Norfolk suit, as here shown, is 
one of the latest modes for little boys 
and growing lads, and will be much seen 
in the eaidy Fall. The original is made 
of cheviot in a mixture of brown and 
tan with threads of green, but all wool 
suiting cloths are suitable for cold wea¬ 
ther wear, linen, duck and galatea for 
Summer suits. The knickerbockers can 
be gathered into bands below the knees, 
as illustrated, or drawn up to the re¬ 
quired size by means of elastics run 
through the hems. The jackeit is made 
with a smooth yoke, that is pointed at 
the lower edge and finished with a col¬ 
lar that rolls over with the fro'nts to 
form lapels. Below it the jacaet por¬ 
tion is laid in box pleats and a belt 
passes around the waist under or over 
the pleats as desired. The sleeves are 
in coat style, and a patch pocket is 
stitched to each front below the belt. 
To cut this suit for a boy of eight years 
of age 4% yards of material 27 inches 
wide, 2^/^ yards 44 or 50 inches wiide will 
be required. The pattern No. 3898 is 
cut in sizes for boys of 4, 6, 8, 10 and 12 
years of age; price 10 cents. 
Preserving Corn. 
For a number of years I have put 
down corn in the following manner, and 
it has always proved excellent. Fill 
wash boiler one-third full of water, 
when hot put in the ears of sweet corn 
(Country Gentleman is the best for the 
purpose I ever used) which have been 
husked and all silk taken off. Let boil 
just long enough to set the milk—no 
longer. Take out in pans and soon as 
cool enough cut kernels from the cob. 
Sprinkle a layer of salt (just so you can¬ 
not see the bottom) in a three-gallon 
stone jar; fill in the corn for an inch, 
then two handfuls of salt. With potato 
masher pound well; then put another 
layer of corn, never over two inches 
in depth before using the salt, pounding 
down well each time. When jar is full 
cover with salt just so you cannot see 
the corn. Place a clean white cloth 
over, then a plate, and weight Mth 
something; it will make its own brine, 
and if kept under the corn will not 
mold. When wanted, take out quantity 
desired and pour hot water over; pour 
off, doing this two or three times, the 
last time let stand until fresh enough, 
but if rightly handled only a few min¬ 
utes are required. Boil a few minutes 
and the corn is ready for seasoning and 
■table. I often put red kidney beans with 
the corn, and it makes a dish that even 
a New Yorker thinks excellent. Of 
course the beans are well cooked before 
being mixed with the corn, and a cupful 
of cream is the best seasoning. I tried 
laying down corn without c(X)king it 
first, as a recipe published directed. It 
soured and had to be thrown away, but 
after using the recipe given I have had 
no trouble. 
MBS. i'KEOEKlOK O. JOHNSON. 
MOTHERS.—Be sure to use“Mrs.Wins- 
low’s Soothing Syrup” for your children 
while Teething. It is the Best .—A dp. 
