TRIBUTE TO THE MOTHER. 
To ber care have been intrusted 
All the heroes of all lands; 
Still the fate of church and nation 
Holds she in her slender hands. 
Guiding -willful feet and faltering 
On through childhood’s happy years, 
On through youth with its temptations, 
With its hopes, its doubts, its fears; 
Cultivating all that's noble, 
Gently chiding all that’s wrong, 
Till her children gather round her, 
Men and women, pure and strong. 
By the quiet ministrations, 
In the little realm of home, 
For the structure of the ages, 
She hath laid the corner stone. b. d. 
FROM THE KITCHEN WINDOW. 
IIAT a long time it seems since I 
have talked with Rural friends 
at my kitchen window ! For the long 
summer days are over now, and the 
brilliant leaves of our Canadian maples 
are fluttering softly down on the still 
green, fresh grass. They leave the 
trees so bare and stark in the cold au¬ 
tumn sunlight, that one can hardly real¬ 
ize that there will ever be another resur¬ 
rection ! Through the stillness of this 
quiet corner sounds the shrill whistle of 
the engine, for since I last wrote, a new 
railroad has been opened through this 
locality, and we are now only 10 hours 
from NewYork. I suppose that many of 
The Rural, readers have experienced 
the sensation caused by the passing of 
the first train near their homes ! What 
possibilities it opens, especially if one 
is young and the world looks wide and 
alluring ! The throb, throb of the loco¬ 
motive, is music that is sweet to the 
youth to whom 
All the world is young, lad, 
And all the trees are green, 
And every goose a swan, lad 
And every lass a queen. 
As Charles Kingsley so truly sang. What 
an influx of city friends, who never 
found you out before, because the road 
was a little long and stony, and they 
were not in want of a ride ! How you 
ask the price, anxiously, of marketing 
by express or freight, your farm prod¬ 
uce, and what a timing of watches to 
trains as they pass by, and severe com¬ 
ments when they are late ! Then, at 
night, when the late express, with its 
electric headlight, comes pufting along, 
with lighted Pullman car, and a general 
hurry to make up time, it is as though 
we had been traveling, to know that 
the travelers pass this way. 
It has been a never-to-be-forgotten 
season of apple picking—without prece¬ 
dent in many ways. Beginning in July, 
with the basket fruit, we are in the 
middle of October with fruit still un¬ 
gathered. Other seasons, the first week 
sees our crop garnered, but continued 
rain and drizzle have kept the fruit too 
damp to put in barrels, and prices are 
so low that all profit goes to the steam¬ 
boat company and the cooper, for even 
commissionmen realize but light re¬ 
turns. What fruit growers are to do, is 
a question not easily answered, for it is 
an occupation usurped by every farmer 
nowadays, and orchard planting goes on 
extensively among dairymen and grain 
growers, who, not content with producing 
what they can Consume, glut the market 
with their apples, when going in with 
other produce. Never were apples so 
plentiful; they are scorned by every 
animal, such has been the surfeit, and 
how to dispose of them without waste, 
is a problem that interests the dis¬ 
couraged fruit-grower. Not only this, 
but in spite of props, the trees have 
broken down under their loads. Writers 
talk of thinning, but it would be the 
work of a whole season to go over such 
an orchard. Grapes hang on the vines 
ungathered except for such as are given 
away. And so a year of plenty is not 
quite an unmixed blessing, and we only 
fear that a dearth of fruit may follow 
the enormous bearing of this year. 
The flower garden, from my kitchen 
window, is still bright. How faithful 
are the phlox and verbena ! How royally 
beautiful in their purple and gold the 
very large pansies that the wet weather 
has evolved ! Sweet peas and mignon¬ 
ette are still there to gather for those 
who are shut in away from the sight of 
such blossoms, and the English daisy 
blooms from among the leaves that have 
fallen upon it. I never admire zinnias, 
except when their more delicate com¬ 
panions are gone ; then they snow their 
brilliant coloring. Cupid sweet pea 
disappointed me as it did The R. N.-Y.— 
and several guests remarked as to why 
I had my “dwarf peas among the 
flowers” — mistaking them for edible 
peas. But they have not even flowered 
freely, and the foliage is coarse and 
rough. So ends another floral delusion. 
And I must leave the kitchen window 
now—with its witchery of autumn glean¬ 
ings, and brilliant foliage—for the ama¬ 
teur cook tells me that guests have 
arrived. We are making up grapes into 
jam and jelly, and would rather stay 
here. Did you ever notice that you are 
often alone in a time of comparative 
leisure, but that if you just get into a 
job of extra work of some kind, your 
“ dear 500 friends ” will all want to see 
you at the same time or thereabouts ? 
To make grape jam, we take off the 
skins and boil the pulp till the seeds can 
be skimmed off ; then add the skins and 
sugar, and boil till thick. Children are 
generally fond of it, and it is a health¬ 
ful preserve, minus the seeds. Just now 
a gleaner of apples has passed the win¬ 
dows, waving a bunch of golden rod and 
asters, and I think of the poem : 
Who blanched my thistles blushing face, 
And gave the winds the silver hair ? 
Set golden rod in every place, 
And scattered asters everywhere? 
And soon they, too, will be among the 
things of the past. Annie l. jack. 
A CONTENTED LIFE. 
UCH has been said of the monotony 
of the life of the farmer’s wife. 
It is even affirmed that more women are 
sent to insane asylums from this class 
than from any other. It may, however, 
be a disputed point, whether it is pref¬ 
erable to lose one’s mind entirely in the 
country, or to have life in town a wear¬ 
iness to oneself and friends from nervous 
prostration. It is seldom that one finds 
the “ golden mean”, and lives content¬ 
edly, wherever it may be. Just run 
over in your mind the list of your ac¬ 
quaintances ; how many may you call 
contented ? 
Said a doctor, recently, “I wouldn’t 
give a cent for a contented person ; if 
there is no ambition, there will be no 
progress.” Yet the discontent, the un¬ 
rest, the fruitless strivings to keep “ in 
the swim ”, whether in town or country, 
have much to do with woman’s health 
and happiness. One of the sweetest 
eases of a contented old age, was that of 
a woman of nearly 80 years. Born and 
brought up on a farm, for 45 years the 
wife of a country pastor, and spending 
her last days again on a quiet farm, from 
her invalid’s room, she kept in touch 
with the world to the last. Papers and 
magazines lay on her table, letters from 
all over the United States were received 
and answered, and, instead of feeling 
that she and the walls of her room were 
all the world, she made her own self of 
little account while taking the whole 
world into her heart and sympathy. 
Is not one reason that the farmer’s 
wife does so often tire of her work and 
home, because she has not learned to 
keep her brain bright with fresh 
thoughts ? Suppose that one cannot be 
on the “go”, as some are; books and 
papers bring all the world into our home. 
While washing dishes, instead of fretting 
over the inevitable, why not think of the 
Armenians and their sufferings, or of 
Cuba and its struggle for independence, 
or plan to do some kind deed, or say 
some kind word to some one else ? When 
at dairy work, recall the odd methods 
used in other lands, how, in one country, 
they churn by tying the milk in a skin, 
fastening it by a long strap to the pom¬ 
mel of a saddle, mounting the horse, and 
riding wildly about, the jarring and 
pounding of the skin on the ground 
causing the butter to come ? In fact, 
keep the mind on something else than 
self and drudgery. 
Another way for health and content¬ 
ment is to know when to shirk. It is 
delightful to keep an immaculate house 
and all things else to correspond ; but it 
is not easy to find help to do it, and it is 
better to learn what can be omitted and 
the housewife and mother keep her 
health. If odds and ends are kept picked 
up, and in place, instead of thrown down 
haphazard, rooms nicely dusted, clothes 
in sleeping rooms hung in their places 
every day, dishes of left-overs cleaned 
up and emptied instead of standing 
around in the pantry, work is very much 
helped. When a big day’s work is on 
hand, let every little item go that is not 
needed, and catch up on the “off day.” 
When tired and cross, a five minutes’ 
rest in the big chair, with a book or 
paper to carry the mind away from 
work, will prove a tonic. A peep out of 
doors at the trees and grass, a little trip 
to see whether the sweet peas are grow- 
A UNIQUE WALL POCKET. Fig. 231. 
ing well, or that bud on a favorite plant 
unfolded, will show you how beautiful 
life is after all. 
Even in winter, there is much to enjoy 
in studying the difference in tlie appear¬ 
ance of the trees without their summer 
dress ; some have delicate branches and 
slender twigs, while others are sturdy 
and defiant in spite of the winter’s 
storm, very much like some people we 
know. 
One thing is certain, the housemother 
may dig and delve all her days, and 
never make a home that will satisfy the 
husband and children half so well as one 
less carefully kept where her own face 
reflects a contented and a rested mind. 
Surely “ Godliness with contentment is 
great gain.” mollie wiggins. 
VISITING AMONG FARMERS. 
HY do we not have more visit¬ 
ing, spending the afternoon 
and taking tea ? ” was the question 
brought up before our ladies’ aid society 
a few weeks since. The answers may 
help to solve the social side of the 
problem of farm life. More than one- 
half of these women are farmers’ wives, 
and no one could distinguish them from 
the town women. “ We have so many 
more friends. If I should spend an 
afternoon with each, it would take a 
large share of my time ; but I can make 
several calls in one afternoon, have a 
pleasant chat, and see my friends. We 
do not have the time for gossip in this 
way.” 
Another woman said, “If I entertain 
the Ladies’ Aid Society once a year, it’s 
about all that I can do. I must read, 
and there is so much to look over if one 
knows what is going on in the world. 
I don’t believe that people read as much 
years ago as they do now.” 
I know this to be a fact, that where 
one paper was taken 25 years ago, five 
or more are taken now. As an illustra¬ 
tion, in my father’s family, four peri¬ 
odicals were the greatest number that 
ever came to our home, and we were 
a fair sample of those about us; there 
was one each of religious, political and 
agricultural, and the county paper. In 
our home, we have from 12 to 20 differ¬ 
ent papers and magazines. We are not 
content with one agricultural paper 
alone, but have some 8 or 10, including 
horticultural. There are exceptions, but 
these days, you will find from 5 to 10 
papers in nearly every farmer’s home ; 
each one has his favorite. The numer¬ 
ous home and housekeeping publications 
are frequently seen, as well as the more 
weighty literary publications. 
Homes are made more pleasant by the 
entire house being thrown open and 
used. There are few company parlors 
nowadays ; it takes time to keep them 
in order, but the tired housewife, rest¬ 
ing in easy chair or couch, with the 
last paper or magazine, forgets her 
weariness in reading of the world’s 
doings. And if a friend or neighbor 
comes in, they chat of what they have 
been reading more often than the gossip 
of the neighborhood. 
Farmers and their families go to town 
more for society than formerly. There 
is not that wide difference between town 
and country people. The farmer’s wife 
or daughter usually has her horse and 
carriage, and goes and comes at her own 
sweet will. 
The cry that the farmer’s wife has the 
hardest of lives is not true, as a general 
thing ; life is usually what we make it. 
I believe in being kind and pleasant 
with one’s neighbors ; the less you have 
to do with some, the better. In the 
West, we had very few congenial neigh¬ 
bors ; here it is different. We run in 
and out, go to town together, share our 
good things in the way of fruits, vege¬ 
tables, ice cream, etc. If one requires 
help, the rest are ready to lend a hand. 
This is what I call an ideal social life 
among farmers. I have never known an 
instance where a farmer was driven 
from his home by isolation and lone¬ 
liness. MRS. FRED. C. JOHNSON. 
Illinois. _ 
" CHARGE IT.” 
AN there be any doubt as to the bad 
effect of the credit system, now so 
generally the custom between the family 
and the storekeeper, upon the financial 
condition of both, and, collectively, upon 
that of the nation ? The sound old rule, 
“ Pay as you go ! ” has come to be more 
ignored than obeyed, and the result is 
that debts are contracted which are 
never, or, at best, but tardily paid. Every 
person, old or young, ought to be too 
self-respecting to wear clothing or to 
eat food at the expense of others. I was 
trained by my father, never to buy any 
article for which I had not the money in 
hand to pay, and the strict observance 
of this habit has been the equivalent of 
wealth in keeping the mind free from 
the humiliation of debt. It has been a 
barrier to many foolish expenditures, 
and has kept the head “ level ” in the 
face of many temptations. 
There is no pleasure in self indulgence 
at the expense of others, that can offset 
the stinging sense of obligation. There 
is so much that one can do without, if 
he will only take an inventory of his 
absolute needs. It is the universal pan¬ 
dering to wish and fancy, regardless of 
the just and prudent use of one’s means, 
that brings about what we call “hard 
