Name?" I answer, a dreary waste of field
and fence, there being nothing in the mind of the absent one to remind
him of his distant home but a lone farm-house, a barn, long lines of
fences, and perhaps a few stunted apple trees; and when he thinks of it,
his whole mind reverts to the hot harvest field, the sweat, the toil,
and the tiresomeness of working those big fields! Nothing attractive, no
pleasant memory. Nothing to draw the mind of the youth to the roof that
sheltered his childhood. No wonder boys and girls yearn for a change.

Then what are we to do to change this for the better. I say give your
country homes a name, no matter how homely or isolated that home may be.
Give each one a name, and let those names be appropriate and musical,
short, sweet, and easily remembered and pronounced, and then, when you
go to visit a neighbor, either on business or pleasure, instead of
saying, I am going to Jones', or to Brown's, or Smith's, let it be, I am
going over to "The Cedars," or, to "Hickory Grove," or, to "Holly Hill."
How much pleasanter it would sound. There would be no mistake about your
destination, there being perhaps half a dozen Jones, Browns, or Smiths
within five miles of your home, but only one "Hickory Hill." Then, when
young folks make up their surprise parties during the long, cold, winter
evenings, in place of notifying each other that they are going to
surprise the James', the Jones', or the Jackson's, it would be, we are
going to surprise "Pleasant Valley" "Viewfield" or "Walnut Hill." Every
member of the surprise party would know the place intended, and the
squads and companies of sleighs with their closely packed loads of
laughing girls, and well filled baskets of good things would begin to
marshal on the several roads that lead towards the trysting place; and
when the merry-makers reach the well trimmed walnut grove from which the
farm takes its name, and march up to the dwelling, instead of shouting:
Mrs. Brown, we greet you, or Uncle Brown, etc., it would be: "Walnut
Hill" we greet you, which would include all the Browns, old and young.

One of the brightest spots in my memory is the remembrance of "Rose
Valley" my childhood's happy home. Every pleasant occurrence of my
boyhood clusters around that never-to-be forgotten name. It has acted
like a guide, a land mark for me through my life; and my great aim in
life has been to make my own home just like dear "Rose Valley." To begin
the work, I have