The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1873-06-19
4 cnat vyi.h Farmer-- wives

\ * VI y = Il
4 CHAT VyIsh Farmers wives
Saturday afternoon the one thousand
and one things belonging TO Saturdays
work are done. We will not give them
separate mention, noteven the wholesome
Sabbath-dav yiands in the cool pantry,
tine polished stove in the kitchen, nor
anvIhinr. They are all done and the
=ttinrfoom, with its open windows,
closed blinds. and easy lounge are 50
welcome after it all. But the lounge is
not luxury I'LL one has something to
read. Where 10 you all keep your news
papers / viii tell you where L keep
mine. and the latest is always first In
the bay window there stands barrel
chair. OF course you know what bar
rel chair IS Every housewife ought to
have one, and give out in the beginning
that it Is her exclusive property. Wen,
beneath the cushion Of my barrel chair
there are newspapers without number,
unless YOU count them here find
Fridays Times, and now l am ready for
the lounge / turn from one page to
another. carelessiy at first, then more
thoughtflhlv Is fatigue passes off.
We are tired Of the Indians, wish
.hey were al somewhere, and dis
zusted with anything relating to America
Vienna yet we stop to look at the
medals then for Current Literature and
all ! What is this? The sweet voice
Of "May Weed we feel sure that she
was Nav Pink before she married-re-
mindiug us that we are Mother Mindful,
that we planted fiower-seeds, then quit
work Well, the seeds have been a long
time coming mp, but the last rain helped
them, and with little wedding, a little
transplsntipg with trowel-Sonny
Mindful claims the pancake turner for a
sp1dc-and an occasional sprlnkllDg,
they viii reward Us beautifully in due
time. In fact last years labors are re-
warding us now, for there is a fragrance
of flowers in the air as we write. How
often few minutes work will reward us
after many months have passed Now,
when husband cut the Christmas-tree last
December he little expected it to bear
flowers in August, but we saved it, and
when we planted it this spring with its
brown leaves and dry twigs a witty
ueghbor asked us if it was a ''nevergreen.
But we planted it all the same, and now
there are n9urtiums and convolvulus
growing proiusely about its base which
Will soon cover its dry branches with a
mass Of green leaves and bright blooms.
Then who shall Joke about our "never-
green?' Well, MayWeed and myself
and thousands Of others understand each
other There is Il chain of perfume from
one flower garden to another that en-
riches and eutWines US all, but there are
those (hOw we pity them that cannot
find the blessing we enjoy: those who
care not for flowers, and others who,
caring, cannot have them. Those we
doubly pity, and with these we would
gladly divide. But the essential bene-
lit after MI Is the outdoor exercise, the
relief from kitchen air that we get while
caring, for them.
How many Of us keep boy to run
of errands, bring wood and water, and
hunt eggs, when this is just what we
need most to do ourselves? It is a rest
to run to the wood-shed or the mill,
though we come back laden. We
stand too much and walk too little, and
have done it so long that we think run
ming TO do chores would hurt us. What
a mistake Let the boy mend the fire,
pare the vegetables, tend the oven or
wash the dishes, if his hands are clean,
but if any one must go out of doors let
Us 90 ourselves, and breathe in the draft
of pure air that is life-giving, sOul-giv-
ing.
\ pretty and constant excuse for going
out is a brood of chickens, not in the
flower garden but they are destructive
= insects in the kitchen garden, if the
mother is confined. They are so pretty,
with their soft down and bead-like eyes,
and chirp 50 knowingly as you come with
the shining pail of curds or meal. There
Is pride and pleasure in watching them
day by day as they eat, and when their
feathers begin to appear in cunning little
tufts, We watch every speckled one to de-
eide one day which is the prettiest, and
forget the next, till at last we believe it
is the white one. We love them for
their beauty, remember. We do not
talk to-day of profit Nor need we tell
of farm within our knowledge where
no hogs were fattened last year, but
whore the milk from three cows, made
into curd after skimming, reared with
the addition of less grain than one hog
would have consumed in the same time,
$500 worth Of poultry; yet it is fact.
Let us, then, have a few pretty chickens
as a money profit, if stern utilitarianism
despise the aesthetic view, but by all
means have the little pets as long as
they are little, Time enough to consult
seliishness when they grow large
MOTHER MINDFUL.