42 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
JAN 18 
Wummt’s IXLrli 
CONDUCTED BY EMILY LOUISE TAPLIN. 
CHAT BY THE WAY. 
W E recently saw a very pretty “ made- 
over ” gown which was both sim¬ 
ple aud stylish—economical too. The skirt 
was perfectly plain, gathered over a foun¬ 
dation. The bodice was a short basque, 
pointed bQth in back and front, and fitting 
very smoothly. The material was navy- 
blue cloth. The basque had a yoke of navy- 
blue velvet, pointed back and front, the 
lower edge being blind-stitclied, so that it 
looked as if smoothly laid on the cloth. 
The sleeves were made entirely of velvet, 
leg-of-mutton shape, gathered high up in 
the arm hole, but fitting tightly below the 
elbow. Around the edge of the basque rib¬ 
bon of the same color was put on plain, 
number 16; it was brought into a point 
back and front. In the front the fastening 
was hidden by a little butterfly bow ; a 
large bow with long ends was put on the 
back, a little to the left of the center. It 
was a very jaunty-looking frock indeed, 
and very easily made. When going out the 
wearer finished her costume with a black 
astrakhan cape and a little wrinkled tur¬ 
ban of the blue velvet, trimmed with one 
large black wing, pointing forward. 
“ And this our life, exempt from public 
haunt, finds tongues in the trees, books in 
the running brooks, sermons in stones, 
and good in everything .” 
We wish all who complain of the mono¬ 
tony of country life would just think over 
Shakespeare’s wise speech; they do not 
really know how much they have to be 
grateful for. It may be monotonous, but 
it is not more so than perpetual bricks and 
mortar, and surely there are many compen¬ 
sations, even in the dead of winter. We 
never take a walk, even beneath bare 
boughs and a leaden sky, without seeing 
something of interest; it may be an unus¬ 
ual patch of moss or lichen, or a cluster of 
scarlet berries, or an odd stone, or it may 
be the antics of winter birds. There is al¬ 
ways something, and we never feel our 
walk is in vain. Usually it suggests some¬ 
thing we want to learn, and that always 
seems the prime advantage of a country 
over a city walk. We must confess to a 
personal weakness for looking in at shop 
windows, but certainly looking at bonnets 
and trinkets does not enlarge one’s mind 
so much as studying up plants and birds. 
The love of Nature gives pleasure to the 
end of one’s life, and it is a pleasure we 
may f.11 possess. 
* •* 
* 
This suggests another New Year’s reso- 
ution : why not decide to study something 
near at hand, such as birds, or plants, or 
stones ? It is surprising how much interest 
it will give to one’s walks. It will not 
cost nearly as much as many so-called ac¬ 
complishments—of course it will not 
“show off” so much, but the possessor of 
such knowledge will have far more real 
pleasure. There aie so many charming 
books of country life a id country pleasures 
that it is easy enou|. h to obtain such infor¬ 
mation, whatever it may be; once ob¬ 
tained, a good many otherwise profitless 
hours are turned to ac jount. 
KEEPING A. DIARY. 
OLIVE E. DANA. 
T HERE are diaries and diaries—the 
voluminous journal of the introspec¬ 
tive person, the hasty jottings of the man 
of affairs, the sententious entries of the 
trained observer, and the occasional pen- 
and-ink meditations of one who would fain 
see, now and then, whither this swift cur¬ 
rent of time is bearing him. In some cases, 
as followed by some people, it can hardly 
be doubted that journal-writing is worse 
than useless, even a positive injury. It 
can hardly be helpful either to ourselves or 
other people, to spend much time setting 
down the happenings of an ordinary, un¬ 
eventful life, or in analyzing our motives, 
or inspecting our conduct or the springs of 
it. or in recording our aspirations, however 
worthy they may be. Our eyes were made 
for seeing what is outside of ourselves, and 
our noblest faculties find similar employ¬ 
ment. 
Says Mrs. Browning: 
•• We are wrong whenever we think too much 
pf whfU we think or flre.’' 
Yet a faithfully kept diary, judiciously 
used, may serve many helpful purposes. 
There are many events of which in after 
years it would be advantageous to have a 
record. Dates are as helpful in over-look¬ 
ing the individual life as in epitomizing a 
nation’s history. 
Then it is a satisfaction when one has 
completed a piece of work, large or small, 
to record the fact, and it is an aid in sum¬ 
ming up the month’s or the year’s work. 
And it is well, too, to make a record of the 
books one reads. The student might find 
it profitable to indicate as briefly as possi¬ 
ble, or by some sign intelligible to himself, 
the character of the volumes or his estimate 
of them. 
And it may be of great value, if one is at 
any time thrown among people of emin¬ 
ence or distinction, or placed in any note¬ 
worthy circumstances, to preserve some 
description of the same with the vividness 
of one’s first impressions to give them the 
interest no after recollections could have. 
I think it might often be of profit to record 
the progress of the season, the weather, 
and to make some mention of the ever- 
changing aspects of Nature. To young 
people, semi-invalids, or others whose fac¬ 
ulties of observation have not been trained, 
or who need to be enticed into excursions 
into the out-door world, this might be help¬ 
ful. Mr. John Burroughs gathers the 
wealth which he coins into his unique es¬ 
says from common high-ways and by-ways. 
Henry Thoreau found the territory included 
in one small township quite inexhaustible. 
Lowell and Higginson found our dreariest, 
most barren season fertile in facts, sugges¬ 
tions and significances. So many situa¬ 
tions and circumstances seem barren to us 
because we have no eyes to see the revenues 
of interest and beautv they may yield to 
the attentive mind ! And in learning to 
discern some of these things, we discover 
ourselves. Our aptitudes and abilities are 
disclosed to us in action. 
Again, it seems to me that a family jour¬ 
nal might be a very delightful thing to 
make, and inestimably precious to possess. 
The members of the household might take 
turns in making entries—which would of 
course be made only on occasion, or it 
might be put in charge of the one who was 
best qualified or had most time to spare. 
The canceling of an old debt, the realiza¬ 
tion of some household desire, the good for¬ 
tune or success of some member, the illness 
of another, births, deaths, removals, jour¬ 
neys, enterprises undertaken—all these 
would be material for the family journal. 
Many people who dislike the conventional _ . , , .. 
v , ,, ,. . ., £ T WONDER if the little girls (or big ones 
diary, with its exactions in the way of I .... . , 
; -I- either) who wear beaver capes, carry 
daily entries, may find it pleasant to keep. . . a , ,, . , 1 . , , 
1 eaver muffs, or have their coats trimmed 
an itemized lournal ” after this fashion: 
, , , . . , with this soft, warm fur, ever stop to think 
Take a thick blank-book, and divide into , , „ ’ , 
, , , where it comes from ? How many of you 
several parts. One of these devote to , ... , . ,, , . 
. . know anything about the funny little ani- 
a record of things accomplished, another to , , ° , . , , „ 
mal whose coat you have appropriated ? 
happenings, meluding journeys, visits , remember in flrst • , „ (aa we 
and special pleasures, another to the mention , , .. . . . . 
,, , , , j. . . .... used to call our geography) a picture of a 
of books read or studies pursued, and still . , ., 
,, . , , , ’ family of beavers at work. It said that the 
another to a careful account of all moneys , . . . , 
. . . . ... .I • beaver used his tail as a trowel while en- 
received, and of all expenditures. It is a , , ,, 
, ’ , , . . .. gaged in building his house and dam. Mr. 
pleasure to keep such a record, and a satis- y r it- ,, • tI , ,, i . 
^ K ’ H. P. Y ells, in Harper’s Monthly of some 
faction to possess it. ,. . „ . ,, . 
^ time ago, tells us many wonderful things 
-‘ 4 '^ in regard to this curious little animal. He 
GOLDEN GRAINS. contradicts my old “jogafy” in regard to 
_ the statement made about the little fellow 
_^ , using his tail as a trowel, and, as he writes 
TTTHEN Emerson’s ibrary was burning frQm nal invest igation, he ought to 
VV m Concord, relates Miss Alcott I knQW H e savs that the tail is “ convex on 
went to him as he stood with the fire-light the upper SI1 Vface.” and that this makes 
on his strong, sweet face and endeavored guch a uge impossible . H e also says that 
to express my sympathy for the loss of his the tail is very muscu i ar) and that, as the 
most valued possessions, but he answered beaver doeg most of big work standing on 
cheerily: Never mind, Louisa, see what a b j s b j nd i egS) be evidently uses his tail as a 
beautiful blaze they make! We will en- SU pp 0r t 
joy that now.” The lesson was never for- The beaver8 do very little work during 
gotten, and in the varied losses that have the suinmer They Hye principallv on 
come to me I have learned to look for some- b5rch bark They usually build ‘ their 
thing beautiful and blight. houses near the water and burrow through 
Says Bishop Wilkins: I call that natu- to the roots of some large tree. If the 
ral religion which men might know, and stream near which their house is built 
should be obliged to know, by the mere should be shallow, they then build a dam- 
principles of reason, improved by consider- not a regular methodical structure as many 
ation and experience, without the help of suppose, but, as Mr. Wells puts it, “ a nar- 
revelation. now pile of brushwood thrown together 
Few consider how much we are indebted higgledy-piggledy.” On the side towards 
to government, because few can realize the source of the stream they generally 
how wretched mankind would be without weight down the brushwood with mud. 
it, says Atterbury. The beaver does most of his work at night, 
„ , . __ and the darker and damper the night is, 
HE who cannot forgive others, says Her- the befcter the work progresses . This may 
bert breaks the bridge over which he must be due to the fact that the animala feel 
pass himself ; for every man has need to be mQre secure from molestation in the dark- 
for S lven . ness. 
In one of his writings George Washing- As I said, most of the beaver's work js 
ton said that a slender acquaintance with done in the winter. When ice fornis oq 
the world must convince every map that the surface of the streppis at night 
actions, not words, are the true criterion beavers know that their jilay time is oypp. 
of the attachment pf friends; and that the They immediately go tq ivprk laying in ^ 
most liberal professions of good-will arp store of wood-food. This fjipy pile upintq 
very fay from being the spirest marks pf it fl :jpat wood-pile, They tmme', from theit 
Sir John Dunham wrote: 
Learn to live well, that thou mayst die so too. 
To live and die is all we have to do. 
Said Madame Neckar : A certain amount 
of distrust is wholesome, but not so much 
of others as of ourselves; neither vanity 
nor conceit can exist in the same atmos¬ 
phere with it. 
Says Thoreau: Go not so far out of your 
path for a truer life ; keep strictly onward 
in that path alone which your genius 
points out; do the things which lie nearest 
to you, but which are difficult to do ; live a 
purer, a more thoughtful and more labor¬ 
ious life, more true to your friends and 
neighbors, more noble and magnanimous.. 
Many men run after felicity, said Syd¬ 
ney Smith, like an absent-minded man 
hunting for his hat, while all the time it is 
on his head or in his hand. 
Says Dr. Rankin : There never was a 
true astronomy so long as men thought of 
the earth as the hinge and middle point of 
all. There never will be a true morality 
except in the righteousness which finds its 
center in the holy God. 
The late President Garfield in an address 
said : To those most noble men, Democrats 
and Republicans, who together fought for 
the Union, I commend all the lessons of 
charity that the wisest and most beneficent 
men have taught. 
Prayers need not be fine, said Dr. Spur¬ 
geon. I believe God abhors fine prayers. 
If a person ask charity of you in elegant 
sentences, he is not likely to get it. 
Dow esix c (£■ c onomij 
CONDUCTED BY MRS. AGNES E. M. CARMAN. 
“ Why wait for New Year's Day to come 
—and disappear ? 
Whene'er the spirit moves to nobler 
creeds, 
When conscience disapproves, or duty 
pleads, 
Then make resolves, and of resolves 
make deeds, 
And make each day begin a New and 
Happy year.” 
THE BEAVER. 
houses to the bottom of this wood-pile, 
bring the necessary food into their houses, 
carrying away the waste portions when 
they have eaten. Mr. Wells describes their 
houses as follows: 
“On some bank or island but five or six 
inches above the water they place together 
a number of poles in such a manner as to 
form a wigwam. Upon these they pile 
shorter sticks, largely the relics of past 
feasts, and mingle with them mud and 
grass, until they have covered the original 
poles to a thickness of two or more feet. 
Over the whole they pile more poles, until 
the general aspect of the finished house is 
that of a low, dome-shaped pile of old 
brushwood. 
One built by a family of four in 1886, 
and opened by me in September, 188T, was 
irregularly circular, eight or nine feet in 
diameter, and four feet high. The living- 
chamber was4X feet long, three feet wide, 
and 18 inches high. The grass beds of the 
family were easily distinguishable, the 
father at one end, the mother at one side 
and the two young opposite. In the middle 
was the dining room. Two holes led into 
the water, which was but a few inches be¬ 
low the floor of the chamber, opening far 
below the surface, one on one side, the 
other on the opposite side of the island 
upon which the house was built. The exit 
toward the wood-pile was straighter and of 
easier grade than the other, obviously to 
make it easier for them to carry their food- 
wood. A small space at the apex of the 
dome consisted merely of interlaced poles 
and sticks without admixture of mud, 
clearly for the purpose of ventilation. 
Such is the winter home of the beaver, and 
to it they confine themselves as long as the 
weather is severe. But should a thaw 
come, they will burrow to the surface 
through four or five feet of snow, and work 
as only beavers can work while it lasts 
laying in fresh food-wood.” 
It requires great patience and powers of 
observation to trap beavers: it is hard 
work, and the returns are by no means 
large. The trapper locates the burrows of 
the beaver during the summer so as to be 
prepared for his winter’s work. He first 
aims to catch the father beaver, as the rest 
become frightened and defenceless when he 
is gone. Great care must be exercised i n 
order to prevent injury to the fur, for if in¬ 
jured, it becomes worthless. 
There are very many more things which 
might be told of this cunning little animal 
did time and space permit. I hope each 
boy and girl will remember what he or she 
has read here about the beaver. What we 
read or study does not determine what we 
learn, it is what we remember that does 
this. Now, each of you when you have 
finished this, repeat to yourself the 
principal things you have been told, and 
fix them in your memory : it may be of use 
to you someday in the future. Will you ? 
DORA HARVEY VROOMAN. 
Harper’s Bazar says that the day must 
come when woman’s dress will be much 
more than the weight-record of a purse. 
CANDY MAKING. 
T HE Turks are noted candy-rnakers 
and eaters, and some of the most de¬ 
licious of all sweets come from the Orient. 
These people, on the other hand, use no 
alcoholic beverages. It has also been 
noticed that many persons in western 
lands, who are fond of sugary things, care 
less for wines and liquors than people not 
blessed with the “ sweet tooth.” Whether 
there is any truth in this saccharine theory 
or not is of little concern to us. Take it 
for what it is worth. My purpose is simply 
to give you a few rules for making some 
candies that have greatly pleased paterfam¬ 
ilias and the little ones. 
The recipe books tell us to provide porce¬ 
lain dishes and various wooden utensils, 
but I find that a bright tin dish, an iron 
spoon, a straw, two forks, and some but¬ 
tered paper are quite sufficient for these 
purposes. Clean hands frequently dipped 
in cold water and quickly dried, enable 
£Ui.$fcUnnc0U.$ §Uvmi.siug. 
When Baby was sick, we gave her Castoria, 
When she was a Child, she cried for Castoria. 
When she became Miss, she clung to Cantoris 
Wr.H’ hjld Children,ghe gave Uietn Castor>a 
