
 

 

 

DETROIT. AUGUST 9, 1590.

 

 

THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement.

 

 

70 A BABY.

Well, dear little mortal,
Set down on life‘s portal,
With never a question of choice, or of will.
Small pilgrim, set out
On a journey of doubt,
With your shrine at the .top of a trou‘.lesome hill.

 

Look about with those eyes
Full of grave sweet surprise
Andrey what you think of the we ld now you‘ re
in it,
Is it best worth your while
To meet life with a smile,
'Or a frown, that you ever were forced to begin it?

Oh, “ Life" is the name
Of the curious game.
.And if other we smile, child, or whether we
frown,
We must each play in turn,
Though we scarcely may learn
The rules of the game till the cards are thrown
down.

'Tis a queer hurryoskurry
Full of bother and worry,
For each player comes in with some trick of his
owu,
But the secret of winning
Lies all in the beginning,
So he sure you are right, child, then “play it
alone.“ ~1’htladelphia limes.

———...-———

KIDDLE-thED WOMEN.

 

There comes to every woman a time
when she reaches that Debatable Land
which is neither youth or old age. It
dawns upon her gradually. She has
picked out grey hairs here and there, and
been strangely shocked by their frequency;
those persistent little lines about the mouth
and eyes cannot be rubbed away by even
the most skillful mmageur; she is con-
scious of a rheumatic ache in her left e1-
bow, and a growing predilection for
noodles with accommodating eyes. 'She
realizes that youth, the dream, has depart
ed, and taken out of her life and from cheek
and form something that can never be re-
stored. Perhaps she is philosophically re-
signed to the inevitable and doesn’t mind
the gray hair and the wrinkles. Perhaps
she ﬁnds in her wider development and in-
creased resources a compensation for the
loss of youthful bloom and buoyancy,
not considering herself an object of pity
because she may chance to be “a left
over.” But after all, a day comes when
she realizes she is neither young nor old,
neither the blossom nor the ripened fruit—
only just hopelessly ”middle-aged.” She
sees Victor Hugo was right w: en he said,
“ It is better to be ﬁfty than forty, for
while forty is the old age of youth, ﬁfty is
the youth of old age. ” True, it is a condi-

-cause of foreign missions.

 

tion Time is remedying every day, bringing
the “silent night end the snow " nearer
and nearer, yet she is not ready to drop
into the quiet waiting which denotes the
fruition of age.

The middle aged woman ﬁnds herself
left out of a good many things, especiilly
if she be not of a self-assertive disposition,
and holding an assured social position.
Her young lady daughters come on—not
exactly to take their mother's place in
society, but so that she feels herself less a
necessity than she was once. Their af-
fairs, their plans, their purposes, are more
interesting to even her personal friends
than are her own—theirs have the charm
of freshness and spontaniety. The chil-
dren’s interests dominate in the family.
Her nestlings are trying their wings and
showing lessand less need of her. Soon
they are gone, and she looks out a little
drearily, not ready yet to “live in her
grandchildren ” yet at a loss for something
to replace her old cares and interests.

Rose Terry Cooke somewhere says: “It
is odd that almost all the maiden ladies
and widows in a country town become de-
voted to the work of temperance or the
There may be
plenty of white heathen at their doors;
their next neighbor may be a drunkard
and abuse his family, but these specialties
do not interest them; they take to gener-
alities as a duck towater, and ﬁnd pleasant
excitement in ﬁguring as ofﬁcers of an
‘ organization.’ ”

Just so. Such women may not do much
good, but they do no harm. Perhaps they
accomplish but little, but “ He also serves
who only stands and waits.” They may
overlook the duties at hand in reaching out
for the possible ones, far away, but we
are all apt to overlook the expediency of
taking short views. We smile, perhaps, at
the inadequacy of the results to efforts,
but we don't stop to think what these
efforts mean to those who make them.
Women keep in touch with the progress
of the age in the line of their special in-
terest by these means; they have something
to work for, something to hope for, plan
about and scheme over, and ﬁnd aims and
purposes, new and helpful, in these
societies “ with six ofﬁcers and three high
privates.”

This is the age of organizations. Diverse
as the east is from the west in their motives,
they seem to exist for the sake of giving
the middle-aged woman something to do.
The woman in town who doesn’t bear
about with her a burden of anxious care

 

: on behalf of one of these societies, feeling

sure its very existence depends upon one
course of action or one individual’s elec
tion, is presumably sme devoted mother
whose children have not outgrown her; or
a narrow souled individual who is selﬁshly
bound in self. The mania spreads. Our
boys and girls have their societies, and
Missy comes in very important to tell us
she is the treasurer or secretary or some-
thing of the Y. P. C. E. S. or the S. G. C.
C. or other equally imposing combination
of capital letters; and we wonder when
the middle-aged woman will be driven
from “the last ditch,” even her be'oved
“organizations” being wrested from her
unwilling hold.

Organiza‘ ions and societies are the
safety valve of women of uncertain age and
few home duties. Then there are others
who, seeing their deﬁciencies in mental
culture, bravely quote “ It’s never too late
to learn,” and set about cultivating those
faculties which age and experience have
developed. It is a mistake to suppose all
the growing time of life is in youth. We
used to speak of the man or woman who
learned a language or mastered a science
in middle life as an adult phenomenon.
But now it is no uncommon thing. I
have forgotten how many languages Miss
Amelia Edwards learned after she began
to study archaeology at forty-ﬁve years of
age.

N ow that it is becoming unfashionable to
gossip, and the ladies of our best society
are cutting from their visiting lists the
names of those who are such “ bad form "
as to tattle and slander, there is going to
be a greater demand and better chance for
the intelligent woman, who has hitherto
been left in the background because of her
want of interest in or information about the
purely personal details which have served
as topics of conversation. The middle-
aged woman can thus keep herself “ in the
world,” and not be forced to content her-
self with her purely domestic duties or
drop into the often fatuous work of some
“organization." The best that can be
said of many ‘Of these is that they bring
people together and thus stimulate to
activity the social qualities and give us
that something new to think about which

is a necessary mental tonic.
BE ATRI X .

____.....__.._..

A LADY whose cracker bowl is always
ﬁlled with the crispest of crackers keeps
them in the warmer of her range. They
never get soft and pasty.

a.» w'-<"~~

 


THE -HOUSEEOLD.

 

 

HOME MANAGE MI NT.

I am tempted this lovely morning to lay
aside all cares and give a few of my ideas
on the training of children, for the beneﬁt
of Ruth and other mothers. -

It has always appeared to me that there
is really more expected of mothers than
they are responsible for or capable of per-
forming. But instead of grieving over
duties forced upon us, let us look at some
things for which we know we are responsi‘
ble. In the ﬁrst place our relations to the
formation of our children’s habits are plain.
We know that as “the twig is bent the
tree inclines;” we know too that what
might prove a safe method with many
children might prove disastrous to Ruth’s,
as no given set of rules is applicable to
members of t! e same family even. There-
fore I think the best plan would be to study

our children’s temperaments and govern
accordingly. It has always seemed to me
a very delicate matter—the training of a
young mind, and one that mothers m'ght
)10 well to consider soberly, A mother‘s
inﬂuenCe is a most important factor with
children. “ Grandpa” says ‘L Spare not
the rod” (or words to that effect) while
another member repeats “Smite rot.” I
am convinced that many children through
fear of punishment for an offense form the
habit of untruthfulness. As to the mode
of administering punishment, that is a
question each mother must answer for
herself, guided by her knowledge of her
children’s peculiar traits and temperaments;
yet I think whipping preferable to con-
tinual faultﬁnding. Be candid with the
children; and if you say No, let them un-
derstand that you mean no and not yes. It
will save you lots of trouble.

Much is bein said of late concerning
how to make home pleasant for the boys.
That sounds too much like an article Iread
not long since on eating dinner in the par-
lor during the housecleaning campaign, in
order that the men folks should not see
disorder in dining-room and kitchen. Now
I believe in moderation (in all things) and
my advice would be to make the home
pleasant for the boys in just the same way
you would go to work to make it pleasant
for the girls or any other member of the
family; but ﬁrst see that your boys are
interested in the home, else all your plot-
ting and planning will be in vain. Teach
them to understand that father and mother
have lived longer than they and conse—
quently have seen quite as much; also to
be courteous and well behaved at home.
Teach them it is the height of vulgarity to
use slang at any time, and be sure you
teach them kindness to all domestic ani-
mals. Instruct them to open and shut
doors quietly; in fact, to observe common
sense rules of propriety at all times, and
not that because they are at home they are
expectei to show off their worst manners.
Give them an equal place with the girls;
and while you are working to make the
home pleasant and agreeable for the boys
see that the boys are made pleasant and
agreeable for the home. Teach them to

with their joys and their sorrows, then

show them by your acts that you are in-
terested in them and their childish pursuits.
When they come to you with their
troubles don’t tell them to go along and
not bother, that you have enough trouble
of your own and cannot bother with them.
When you set a task and they perform it
as well as you yourself could have done
tell them so.

When you ﬁnd a nice story—one you
think would interest them and at the tame
time teacha useful lesson—read it to them.
Cannot you remember how you loved to
listen to the stories mother used to read?
There are many ways that children even
can be made useful if you once get them
interested, but don’t expect too much—re-
member that "All work and no play
makes Jack a dull boy.” And above all,
don’t sit around all the evening with a
face as long as your arm and never crack
a smile nor allow the children to, because
father is reading the last paper. If your
child is lively and full of fun, be funny
with him once in a while; there is nothing
better than a good laugh now and then,
and nothing that will keep away wrinkles
like smiles. There is nothing that will
brighten up a home like the merry laugh
of children. A certain writer has likened
a home without children to a lantern with-
out candle, a brook without water, a
garden without ﬂowers. There is much
more I should like to say on this subject
but I will close. OLD HUNDRED.

__._—...____—_

THE MOTHER AND HER BOYS.

In the HOUSEHOLD of June 5th, Beatrix,
in speaking of a mother’s inﬂuence over
her children, touched upon a theme of my
own, and I, think that we mothers in the
hurry and bustle of life, and with our
multitudinous duties as wives and mothers,
are very apt to underestimate the inﬂuence
we have over our children; and especially
are we apt to neglect our boys. Have we
not seen mothers with sons and daughters
who 'should share equally the mother’s
watchfulness, carefully guard the daugh-
ters, constantly exercising a care over them
that is never extended over the lives of the
boys? “Oh,” says the mother, “ boys are
differently constituted from girls; they can
care for themselves better, and if they
make a misstep the world will not frown
them dowmto greater depths as they would
a gir .” Alas! this is too true, but to me
the downfall of a son would cause the
same anguish that it would were it a
daughter. This same mother says, “It is
so difﬁcult to talk with a boy.” Yes, I
admit that it would be if this care has
never been exercised during his childhood,
then wait until he has reached manhood
before the warning word is spoken. I do
not mean by this that a mother should be
constantly reminding her sons that evil
may cometo them if they do thus and so,
and in that way give them ideas that had
never occurred to their innocent minds be-
fore. But I ﬁrmly believe that a mother
can keep a very close watch over her boys

 

place conﬁdence in mother; come to her

instance where a little strategy, or deceit,

if you will, is admissible; if they know
they are watched you will 10% a portion

of your inﬂuence over them. How often

have I stolen in my stocking feet to the

sieeping room of my boys to listen to their
conversation after they had retired for the
night, and in that way have gained an in-
sight into their natures that I could not
have gained otherwise, for their words
were then unguarded, they little suspected
that mother knew what they were saying.
I then knew just how to talk to them, and
they would say, “Why mamma, how can
you tell what we are thinking about so
much?” little dream'ng that they had told
me themselves. When you by constant
watchfulness have reason to fear that your“
child is learning an impure lesson, do not
say, “ I dread to talk with him, he is so
large, but I will some other time.” Mark
me; when that time comes the lesson will
be so thoroughly learned that lifelong
habits may be formed that will be ruinous
to soul and body. Go to him at once and
talk with him plainly, as no one but a
mot-her can, using words that he can not
fail to comprehend.

Then in the ma’ter of educating our
sons to make good husbands, people may
smile and say that is “taking time by the
forelock,” but nevzr mind. I believe every
wife has said to herself more than once,
“Oh! I wish John’s mother had taught
him to be alittle more careful of a woman’s
feelings,” or work, as the case may be. I
have in mind now a husband who loves
his wife and family devotedly, and has
made many a noble sacriﬁce for that wife,
and in such a noble way, never alluding
to it any more than if it had been a mere
triﬂe. Yet that same man never thinks of
lifting a helping hand Sunday morning
when his wife is struggling to dress her
three little ones for Sunday school, while-
she ﬁlls in all the interstices with sweep-
ing, bed-making, dish-washing, etc.. How:
often she has wished that he would with;-
out asking take Tommy or Susie and dress:

him, he is ﬁlled with a consciousness of his
own awkwardness, and handles the child
as though it were a bombshell and he
feared an untimely explosion; the clothing

buttons in front, the right shoe is on the
left foot, and the child is sent to mamma
to see if she can button the shoe w ich he
believes is too small. His shirts to my cer-
tain knowledge have been kept in the
same drawer for over twelve years, but
when he wants one, this familiar call rings
through the house: "Mollie, where are
my shirts?” “Plem get me a pair of
socks,” “ Have I aclean collar? ” And what
a sight meets the eye of Mollie when at last»
the children are ready and she goes to his
room to put it in order! Soiled undergan
ments under the bed and on the bed; the
wardrobe door is wide open, his dressing»
gown is thrown on the dresser with his,
discarded pants on top, his slippers.
occupy each s de of the room, or at least
two of them, his hat, alasl is not to be

 

without their knowledge. This is one

found, but upon a ﬁnal appeal to Mollie

them asthey should be, but if she asks '

that should button in the back be promptly -

    

  

    

 


. ye: A139“

:35 emu” 3'. 21:. 9: ’5 v.

:.: , 9' ﬁrst)?

 

THE HOUSEHOLD.

3

 

with “ Where did you put my hat,” she
unearths it from beneath his dressing-
gown on the dresser. He is a man who
has had many business cares, and his
early life was much of it spent at a hotel,
where he had but to ask for a thing and
there were servants to bring it. And
when he was home, his mother and sisters
delighted in ministering to every want,
and he became so thoroughly imbutd with
the idea that it is man’s prerogative to be
waited upon, and woman’s pleasure to be
the waiter, that it will never leave him.
He does not mean to be selﬁsh, and indeed
in all other things is the extreme opposiie
of a selﬁsh man. But looking upon the
opposite side, would not that wife have been
much happitr if he had been trained when
a small boy to help mother; to understand
that at best a mother’s cares are numerous
and that by lending a helping hand all
would be happier?
Now one word about frightening little
children: I not long ago htard a mother
say to her timid little girl, “ Now if you
do that again I will shut you in that dark
closet where the naughty man is,” or “Be
a good girl or that big man will come and
get you and carry you away.” It was
pure thoughtlsssness in that young mother
to say that, but if we consult our own
judgment or conscience we will know that
it is very wrong '0 ﬁll the little innocent
heart with fear. Will the child not have
enough of fear and trouble to contend with
after we do all we can tc draw away fears
and anxieties? Fear is a terrible thing to
endure. If we doubt it let us recall some
instance in our own lives when life for the
time was made miserable through fear. It
is a terrible thing to have a little one call
out in the still night to mamma, with
trembling voice and staring eyes, that
“ Something is trying to get me.” And in
nine cases out of ten it can be immediately
tracedhto a case'where some one—let us
hope,child:-has frightened the little thing
in order tosecure obedience. . ‘
VUnroN Crrr.
..__...__

‘ WOQD‘ ASHES .

DELLA E.

 

Rather a dry subject, is it not? And
wholly devoid of sentiment. But how is
this for a pretty bit from George Eliot, I
think it is: “ People are often little better
than wood ashes. There is small sign of
the sap, the leafy freshness that once were
there; But when we see wood ashes
we know that all the early fullness of life
must have been.” But, though trees in
their varying forms and tin s are inex-
pressibly beautiful to me, I can yet be
glad to think when that charm is forever
destroyed, we can still be brightened,
warmed and cheered by its wood in the
glowing grate; when that benign inﬂuence
too is gone, and nothing remains of ﬁre
and ﬂame but ashes, ashes gray and white,
we may still be comforted, still be happy.
Out of those ﬁre-bathed ruins may rise if
you will it, a household fairy bringing you
health and happiness, and plenty of good
soft soap,—um—sense and sentiment had a
collision, didn’t they? Let me pick up the
remains. Now where was 1? Oh yes!

 

 

fathersays wood ashes on poor land are
worth their weight in gold, notwithstand-
ing the guileless man going round the
country offering the poor and economical
farmer’s wife a few bM‘S of cheap hard
soap, in exchange for all the ashes ac-
cumulated in the year.

Wood ashes are also a good remedy for
the ‘currant slug if applied quite often
when they ﬁrst appear, that is, they will
leave the bushes. But this summer I
bethought me to use something new and
severe, that would kill them on the spot,
asit were. “ Well,” said the druggist to
whom I applied, “Paris green or helle-
bore will, either one, do that, but don’t
use them, they are dangerous. Insect
powder is all you need and that is harmless,”
so armed with a childlike, abiding faith,
and plenty of the strange smelling yellow
dust, I proceeded to douse every worm I
could ﬁnd; next day to my joy they had
disappeared. I meant to tell you of it
then, as such a remedy might be useful to
many, but we Were entertaining a party
of gentlemen in the hayﬁeld (might as
Well put it in a genteel manner), and time
was scarce. But yesterday I went down
the path to see the current bushes, hidden
behind the long row of cherry trees, and
“ Oh sorrow, oh bad!" There were great
wreaths and ropes and bunches of cur-
rants, just taking on the ﬁrst red ﬂames of
ripeness, glistening in the sunlight without
the shadow of a leaf to protect them. Well,
t‘ey will never ripen now, and if they do,

* the trail of the slug is over them all, and

 

 

“I couldn’t abide ’em.” S.) there will be
a vacant chair in the jelly closet this year,
but next, we shall see what we shall see!

Then you will ﬁnd nothing better for
pear trees than leached ashes, put thickly
around the base in the fall or spring, and
ﬁne ashes sprinkled over turnip tops at
this time of the year will stop the ravages
of the small black ﬂy or bug that is
pretty sure to infest them. If you have
white Swedish turnips they are worth
taking care of. Then mother always
scatters ashes where wash water is thrown
in the summer time. But Idare say all
have their favorite uses for wood ashes,
and [’11 not tell any more Of our ways this
time. AUNT YORKE.

._._..,.___
A. SUMMER OUI‘ING.

Nearly a year has passed since I called
upon the HOUSEHOLD, although during
that time I have been a constant reader
and been beneﬁted by it in many ways.
The season of picnics is again upon us,
and in that long ago letter I promised to
give M. E. H. an idea of something better
than the average picnic.

On a breezy morning last September
we were whirled away from a quiet station
enroute for the “ Garden City” and
received by kind friends, who only thought
for our pleasure. The next morning we
rode through Lincoln Park, in a lovely
carriage drawn by a. span of handsome
black horses, and a colored “gemman”
held the ribbons; we had only to give our
attention to the beauties about us. I was
resting. A most delightful lady sat be-

 

side me; one who passed through many
dangers in the great Chicago ﬁre of 1871.,
and a resident in the city from childhood.
She told me she had been skating many a
time where the Palmer and Lincoln resi‘
de:ces now stand—beautiful ediﬁces of
modern Chicago. But can I tell you of
Lincoln Park, a lovely oasis in this desert
of buildings. First I will take you to the
lily pond, here we saw the great red and
blue lilies of India in blossom; the water
in this pond is kept at a certain tempera»
ture by steam. The broad green leaves of
the Amazonian lily, fully four feet across
ﬂoat upon the surface of the water, and
we were told they would bear up a weight
of thirty-ﬁve pounds. I did not see this
tested, but do not doubt it. The edges 03
the leaves were turned perpendicularly to
a depth of two inches, veritable tiny
boats. What a cradle for a baby? Some
how I was then and there reminded of
“Moses, the meekest man.” But a cer-
tain sweet lady that I know would hardly
trust her two pet Freed na kittens on the
glossy green surface of these leaf boats
The lily pond wasa bit of life from the
tropics. As we passed on we saw white
bears taking their morning nap on beds of
ice —thls was really a frigid zone. Then a
short distance away we gazed upon acres
of ﬂowers whose gorgeous coloring and
beautiful designs were said to make the
ﬁnest display in this country. Down the
driveway we paused at the entrance to
look upon Lincoln .monument, a ﬁtting
tribute to the memory of a great man,
whose name is revered by every liberty
loving American citizen.

Anothtr day I visited a school in the
city. The sparkling, animated faces 03
bright girls and boys all interested me, as
did the little cempositions on “What I
did through vacation,” which they readl
I came away with increased respect for
school teachers. Is there a grander, nobles
calling under the sun? The last evening
we spent in the city we had dinner with.
friends at the Tremont House. Talk
about “ hotel fare i" greatly maligned it ist
Canned peacheswere placed before us, as
delicious as any canned in any farm house-
in Michigan. .

Last but not least we visited the Ex
position. Most of the time we spent in
the art department, where we saw the
seven famous pictures by Whistler, so
delicate in coloring and contour. One.
picture we especially admired. On at
slightly inclined path in the woods stood a
detr with uplifted head and foot as if
listening. The bright red and yellow
autumn leaves lay deep around him, the
trees were not entirely bare of leaves, and
the mellow autumn sunshine over all
This picture was so bright, so natural, we
turned to the catalogue to ﬁnd the name 0!
the artist—it was Rosa Bonheur. The
next morning we turned our faces home
ward, and at six o’clock p. m. were pre—
paring supper. Change is rest. I was
stimulated and refreshed and ready again
to peel potatoes, wash dishes, can fruit,
etc. Such an outing is not beyond the

reach of any one who can afford to attend
two or three picnics in the season. Years

 


4, " THE HOUSEHOLD.

ago women on a farm couldn't afford a silk
dress, it was so expensive, but they would
buy four or ﬁve cheap cloth dresses, which
in the end cost more than the silk would
have done. On this same plan they go to
the picnics.

Now friends, go away from familiar
scenes and places, and come back withcut
a shadow of discontent in your hearts,
with every envious feeling uprooted, and
with renewed energy to make home whole-
some, attractive and happy.

BENTON EAnnoa. SILVER BELL.
HIGH ART THAT CONCEALS ART.

How much of time, talent and patience
the best of us require before we reach that
point where we may excel without ap-

parent effort!

We listen to a ﬁne singer, winning fame
and praise alike from critic and. “No-
judgeof-music.” The easy self-possession,
roundness and smooth sweetness of tone
charm and delight. We ask not to know
the soft, low strain of pathetic sweetness is
merely the result of effort, or that the
artist takes a deep breath every time at a
stated point, to enable her to give just the
requisite expression, power and fullness to
a certain phrase. We only know our
pleasure is not marred ~by embarrassment,
broken time, or faltering tone. It seems
so easy, one could almost sing like that
one's self (before trying). This shows us
the singer has reached a high standard; in
short is able to conceal her art.

I was once bewailing to a popular and
artistic dressmaker the fact that my
clothes were never just right, always
either so prime, or so fussy, without any
striking amount ,of either ﬁt or fashion.
“ Well,” said she, busily pinning a sleeve
round the arm of a very plump customer,
“Dressmaking as well as millinery is an
art where successlies in being able to pro.
duce a ﬁne etfect without apparent effort.
Your country seamstress is too precise, too
much afraid of venturing on any thing
new. Your drapery, folds, hops and
puﬁs are always arranged with geometric
exactness, skirt too short, collar too tight
or loose, and so on, showing carelessness
inp‘ace of precision, and uncalled for
primness where the effect should be care-
108." I once read of a man, I think it
was Beau Brummel, who spent hours be-
fore the glass, tying his cravat, that it
might look right, and yet as if tied in a
moment. Now this seems triﬂing (es-
pecially foraman), but these are the subtle
nothings that make all the difference be-
tween nice things and very common things.

It is the “ high art that conceals art.”

Who has not read at least one sermon by
the gifted Talmage, wondered over and
admired its simple eloquence, the clear
ideas clothed in beautiful language a child

might understand. This, with elegance.

of diction and the grace of perfect elocution
form what would seem to a listener the
spontaneous outburst of genius, but is
really the result of years of patient toil,
and rightly applied study of cause and

attention of thousands year after year. I
cannot resist, comparing such sermons with
those I’m accustomed to listen too. No!
I don’t often listen, sometimes can’t even
remember the text, for truant thoughts
will go wandering away through the open
window over the ﬁelds tohazy Woods where
the birds sing, leaves whisper and the
brook is murmuring soft praises to God
week day and Sunday alike, while all the
time the preacher a few feet away is roll-
ing out great sonorous sentences, wi h
every idea contained therein so wrapped
up and disguised in big words whose
meaning you’ve forgotten, or ﬁnally by
way of emphasis bringing down a clenched
ﬁst on the pulpit with a crash that cuts
short my woodland trip, while the “Pil-
lars” (if they’re awake) look on with
beaming faces that plainly say “ Brother
Driazdusst is really a powerful sermoni-
zer!" Well, it may he; [don’t mean to
criticise, though the brethren would prob-
ably survive it in any case. But I wish,
without detriment to the cause of religion.

Brother Driazdusst, and hundreds of
“ ditto,” could be brought to see that with
all their mighty and evident effort to
please, to instruct, to interest, to attract
the wicked from the ways of sin, they
have yet to learn the beauty of simplicity,
the true value of the “ high art that con-
ceals art.” AUNT Yomm.

M.—

CUSHIONS.

One cannot have too many cushions for
summer use on the lawn, the piazza or in
the hammocks. They should be as varied
as possible, and made for service, not orna-
ment. Pretty ones erg covered with blue
denim, the lighter side out, and ornament-
ed with a pattern done in chainstitch with
white cotton. Another way is to use a
white cotton cord, “ couching ” it on. By
couching is meant sewing the cord on by
stitches taken over it with ﬁne thread. Still
another fashion is to mark aspray of leaves,
a couple of grapeleaves with their tendrils,
or a whorl of horse' chestnut leaves on
linen. Baste it upon the material you
want for your cover, and with coarse white
cotton buttonhole the pencilled edges,
taking moderately deep stitches, not too
close together; then with sharp scissors,
cut away the linen, leaving the pattern out-
lin-1d on the goods.

Cover a cushion ne .tly with red silesia
or Turkey red calico. Crochet a number
of wheels out of coarse cotton; sew them
together making a cover which haste over
the pillow; this can be removed and
washed when soiled. Any coarse, showy
pattern in crochet can be put to the same
use.

The pillows should be from sixteen to
eighteen inches square, and may be stuff-
ed with excelsior, hair, pine needles, cot-
ton, ﬁne shavings, or even old letters and
envelopes cut into bits. Sprinkle the
cotton with sachet powder; make little
sachets of muslin and put in with the stuf-
ﬁng. Don’t put on ribbon bows, or fuzzy
tasseis, or anything else calculated to pro-

voke masculine profanity, and don’t cover
a cushion for hot weather use with any-

thing woolen.

to tired heads, and may be appropriately
covered with gray green linen on which is
outlintd in green ﬂossa bunth of hops and

its leaves. Some ladies whose rose gardens
are luxuriant, make pillows ﬁlled with the
dried petals, and cover them with China
silk on which they embroidera spray of
wild roses. Good Housekeeping, in a late
issue, tells a new way of ﬁxing the corners
of a sofa cushion, as follows: “After the
covering has been put on, push the pillow
back at the corners, and draw the covering
out into place. Wind a strong silk thread
about this covering, close to the pushed-
back pillow, and then fasten a thread into
the point of the tied up corner, and draw
it down into the centre of the tied‘up
portion. Pull the double thickness of this
fulled covering into shape, and tack it
down on the pillow.” And if you hear
any one telling about “ rose corners” you
will know what is meant in pillow parlance.
A cushion covered with black satteen,
with yellow buttercups embroidered on it,
and puffed yellow silk all round it is
showy and would sell well at a bazar.

 

THE Hocsauorm Editor has been en-
joying a three weeks’ vacation, returning
to her work on the 6th inst. The copy
f )l' the Hocsnuoms issued during her
absence was, as much as possible, pre-
pared before her departure, which accounts
for the tardy appearance of several very
welcome communications, received later.
It was a pleasure and a help to ﬁnd “ lots
of copy ” on her desk on her return, due to
the thoughtfulness of correspondents; and
her thanks are extended to those who so

promptly and ably responded to her re-
quest for contributions, thus enablirg her
to secure a much needed and greatly en-
joyed rest.

—————...——_

Mas. W. K. Snxron, of Howell, writes
us: “I send greetings to in Chautau-
quans, especially those "of the " Glass of ’90
and the members of the ‘Guild of the
Seven Seals.’ I hope to pass through the

Golden Gate at Chautau us. with all the
host of 90‘s, and would, glad to meet
those of the Housnaonp who ex t to do
the same. A search for one ano er in the
vast crowd would he fruitless, but by
registering at the dock we can readily ﬁnd
each other at our boarding places.” _
——...-—-—

Contributed Recipes.

Commas-Beams; cnp'ul of granulated
sugar; same of bitter; one 088; scant cup of
sweet m‘lk; scant tesspaonfui of soda: ﬂour
enough to roll. St‘r in a taasmontul of ear-
away seed. if you like. Syrink‘e with gran-
u'ated sugir b;~fore la'ring.

Corns: CAKE—One cup butter: one cup
molasses: two cups brown sugar; one cup
s'rong codes; tour and shalt cups ﬂour; four
eggs: one small nutmeg; two teasp mnfuls of
cinnamon and one of cloves; one-half tra<
spoonful black pepper; two teaspoonfuls of
cream tartar and one of sta; one pound
raisins: quarter pound cltnn. More fruit can
be added if desired

FLY PAPER -'!'ai<e two parts resin t) one
part of castor oil. Melt the resin, stir in the
oil, until 0‘ the right consistency to spread on
heavy p‘perw to a feather. Add more resin
or 01 if necessary.to make itj not soft enough
t) he d every ﬂy that touches it.

Mailman—Take rich milk, adding ere 1m
to make it as rich as you please; sweeten to
taste; flavor and freeze. You can eat as
much of this as you choose without fear 0!

unuleasant result 9. CARRIE Grumman.

 

 

eﬂ‘eet, which, aside from natural talent and
religious feeling, holds the interest and

The hop pillow is supposed to bring rest

CHARLTON, N . Y.

   
 
   

 
    

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