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DETROIT, JULY 4:, 1.887.

    

 

 

THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement.

 

 

HY LITTLE B0~PEEP.

 

My little Bo-Peep is fast asleep.

And her head on my heart is lying.

I gently rock and the old hall clock

Strikes a knell of the day that is dying;
But what care I how the days go by

Whether swiftly they go or creeping?
Not an hour could be but dear to me

When my babe on my arm is sleeping.
Her little bare feet with dimples sweet.

From the folds of her gown are peeping.
And each wee toe, like a daisy in blow.

I caress as she lies a-sleeping;

Her golden hair falls over the chair.
Its treasures of beauty unfolding,
I press my lips to herﬁﬁnger-tips

That my hands are so tightly holding.

Tick, tock; tick, took; you may wait. old clock.

It was foolish what, I was saying;

Let your seconds stay, your minutes play.

And bid your days go all a-Maying;

Oh! Time, stand still, let me drink my till
0f content; while'my babe is sleeping:
As I smooth her hair my life looks fair.
And to-morrow I may be weeping.
____...___

THE LAST; HOURS: OF MOZART.

1 have been to see this great historical
painting by the renowned Hungarian artist
Munkacsy, purchased by err-Governor Alger
for $40,000, and which was placed on exhi-
bition in this city for the beneﬁt of various
local charities. 0n the occasion of my ﬁrst
visit I was unfortunate enough to ﬁnd the
hall monopolized by about2500 pupils of the
public schools, who were singing their school
songs with a rapturous zest more productive
of noise than melody, and encoring all their
own music. In presence2of the great pic-
ture of the dying musician, the_ incongruity
was painful; it was like a brass band play-
ing Yankee Doodle at a funeral. So I came
away soon, and went again one evening.
when everything was ;quiet, and only the
low murmur 'of voices and quiet footfalls
disturbed the silence, and studied it at my
leisure. ‘

Those who know anything about Mozart
and his work will remember that the Re-
quiem Mass was his last composition, being
literally ﬁnished as he lay dying, his one -
earthly anxiety being to complete it. He
had given up hope of longer life, realizing
his moments were numbered. Heribert
Ran, whose biography of Mozart’s life reads
like a romance, and is exquisite both in
thought and diction, thus describes the
closing chapter of a life which went out at
thirty-ﬁve:

“The sheets of the Requiem have grad-
ually been completed. It is done now as

far as the Sanctus, but the hand of the mas-
ter can no longer wield the pen. Sussmayer,
his beloved scholar, sits at his side and

 

writes.

Mozart is lying quiet, but not

  

asleep. His eyes are looking upward, and
their changeful expression betrays that the
mind is at work. Every passage of his
music had to be ﬁrst completed there before
it was put upon paper. Still as it is about
him he is hearing wonderful tones, and
harmonics of immortal greatness. The
composer’s momentary animation is gone,
he is exhausted. Motioning to his scholar
to continue writing, his head sank back
and he closed his eyes. When he awakened
after half an hour’sslumber, Dr. Clossel had
just come in and found him rapidly sinking,
and to his question, “Are some of them
there?” his wife at a nod of consent from
the physician replied, “Yes,” and admitted
his devoted friends, “You true souls,”
said he; “Thank God, there are some
friends who hold fast even in bad times,”
and continued after a pause, “I want to
hear the Requiem just once.” Sussmayer
sat down at the harpsichord. Schack sang
the soprana, Hafer the tenor, Gorl the bass,
and Mozart—the dying Mozart—the alto.
The good doctor had led his wife and son to
the farther part of the room, for the scene
was more than they could bear. Then soft-
ly, softly, swelled forth that ineifable music
from the dying room, and it was to her as
if she heard far off angel choirs imploring at
the throne of God for her darling, her dying
beloved. And bowing down her awe-
stricken and desolate heart, she mingled
with their prevailing voices her inarticulate
prayer. Still went on the sweet, sorrowful,
sacred death song, now swelling up in its
solemn pomp, as if it ushered in the very
presence of majestic death, now breathing
out the childlike supplications of imploring
hearts. Softly, softly, as with nameless,
eternal sadness and self renunciation, it
breathed forth upon the night: Requiem
eternam doua eis Domine! et lux perpetua
luceat eis (Rest everlasting grant to them,
0 Lord, and light forever shineupon them).
The music has died away and all is still.
Suddenly Mozart moved one hand as if he
would ﬁnd that of Constanze. “What is
it,” said she, terriﬁed at the look which
overspread his face. “Death,” whiSpered
Mozart. “Wolfgang, oh Wolfgang!” cried
she. “Oh, leave me not! 0 God! let him
not go from me!” But he Whispered,
“Courage, darling! I told you—I wrote it
for myself—’tis almost done. God bless
you, true wife,” and he sank into a pro-
found slumber, and in a short time rallying
once more. but only fora moment, he gently
glided into that unknown world.”

It is this “last rehearsal ” that the artist
has chosen for his theme. Mozart is of
course the central ﬁgure. Seated in a great
chair, a two-thirds View of face and ﬁgure
is presented. The light from a window in
front of him and indicated at the side of the
picture by casement and drapery, falls upon
the delicate, high-bred features, emaciated
by sickness, yet glowing with inspiration.
One hand is extended towards his three
friends who are singing, as if in the act of
directing the movement, the other arm is
thrown out over the arm of the chair, and
the hand grasps a sheet of music. Grouped
before him are the singers, in the quaint

costu '1 es of 1791, the long coats and waist-
coats, voluminous neckclot hs, knee breeches,
stockings and pumps. All are representedin
the act of singing; singing with heart and
soul concentrated on the music. Sussmayer,
" the beloved pupil,” is at the old fashioned
harpsichord, his homely face uplifted in a
rapture of musical ecstacy. The doctor
leans over the instrument, his eyes upon the
dying maestro, his expression that of pro-
fessional anxiety, as if calculating the effect
of this excitement and effort upon his pa- _
tient. A screen conceals a door, in the
background, and at the corner of the screen
are three neighbors who have just come in
and are watching with mingled curiosity
and awe the scene before them; one. the
most striking of the three, is regarding
Mozart with every line of his rugged 01d
fact instinct with expression. But, apart
from the central ﬁgure of the dying com-
poser, the observer’s interest centers upon
the wife and son, who are seated partly be-
hind his chair. The beloved Constanze has
her eyes apparently ﬁxed upon the singers,
yet it is easy to discover that she does not
see them; her gazeis far beyond, her thoughts
are with her husband, and the loneliness of
bereavement shadows her heart already.
Her face, wan with grief and watching, is
yet very beautiful, half hidden as it is by
the hand against her cheek. Her hair ripples
away from a low, full forehead, and is coiled
at the back; again and again the observer’s
eyes turn to study the expression, which
seems almost to change as we watch it; in-
deed,regarding the picture through an opera
glass, one’s own slight muscular movement
seems transferred to the painted semblance,
and it is easy to fancy the half involuntary
change of position resultant from continu-
ance in one attitude. The boy’s face, too,
is an equally interesting study; there are
signs of recent tears, of the exhaustion
after violent emotion.

There is a wonderful ﬁdelity to detail.
The hare, worn ﬂoor is covered with a rug
under Mozart’s chair, one corner has been
pushed away, you almost wish to put it
straight; the blanket thrown over his knees
has a tangled fringe straggling over the rug,
and the frayed edges are outlined against the
cushion of the chair; the pages of music he
holds, edge toward the front, still show the
black score of notes; there are many such
evidences of careful,painstaking attention to
little things. ,

The canvas is ten by eleven feet, and
contains eleven life-size ﬁgures. The hall

where the picture is exhibite-i is darkened,
all the light being concentrated on the pic-

 

ture; it is like looking into a lighted room

 


  

2 THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

through open windows. It is a painting
which must be seen and studied to be ap-
preciated, and the longer one gazes the
more profoundly he is impressed with the
genius which conceived and executed it.
BEATRaX.

THE CARE OF THE AGED.

 

It has been a long time sinceI visited the
HOUSEHOLD, but the little pap er comes
each week, bringing words of comfort;
surely our home would not be nearly so
happy without it. I would say a few words
of praise and admiration of our excellent
Editor, but 1 fear the waste-basket; yet we
do not seem to give her just credit for this
bright little paper. Do we ever think of the
hours of hard labor it costs her to place-it at
our disposal each week?

Much has been said of late with regard to
the lack of peace and contentment in our
homes. Some blame the wife, some the

husband. In my experience a man usually‘

comes home tired with the day’s toil and
cares, and expects comfort at home, ex-
pects to be free from trouble, and ﬁnd some-
thing pleasant and entertaining there, pre-
pared by the wife of his choice, the one for
whom he labors hard and does what he can.
And it is our duty as far as possible to make
the reception a warm one, let him see we
are glad to see him. Let a little of the zeal
remain that we were once so full of in the
days of youth, and our hearts were ﬁlled
with love and great was our anxiety to
please. Let us try and be at least pirtly as
anxious to do what we know will be most
agreeable to our husbands, and make our-
selves just as neat and presentable as possi-
ble. Full well I know it is a great trial to
those who have children to keep things up
and in place, and always be cheerful, but
surely it is worth trying. The cares and
vexations multiply with each new arrival,
but God gave us that mother’s love for our
little ones so that we can easily overlook all
the disagreeable part, for truly

"There is nothing on earth so holy
As the innocent heart of a child.“

Then there is the care of the old. The
aged parent left without a companion comes
to our home whether it is agreeable to us or
not. We read so much, “Children be kind
to your parents;” that is perfectly right, but
on the other hand it is just as much the
duty of the parent when old and wholly de-
pendent on the children to make himself as
agreeable and as little trouble as possible.
I have in mind two cases where the children
are perfect slaves to the aged parent. Full
of kindness and Christian forbearance, they
administer to every want, only to receive in
return peevish fault-ﬁnding, grumbling and
quarreling. I tell you it is just as much the
duty of the parent to be kind and obedient
(if I may use the word) as it is the children;
but I would not convey the idea that we
should not be patient and enduring with
the dear old people. Oh no! I have the
greatest respect for the old, and gladly
would I furnish a home for my only remain-
ng parent, were it necessary. There is
nothing that helps more toward the bring-
ing up of children to make noble men and
women than the presence of the white
haired grandmother or grandfather, if their
inﬂuence is only for the right, accompanied
with a kind, loving, gentle disposition. The

 

sweetest memory I have is the thought of the
large rocking chair in which is seated a
dear old lady, with the kindest of faces
framed round with silver hair. On her lap
sits the little grandchild, and how happy
they are in each other’s love! I can almost
hear her speak, the dear old mother, and
how many times I heard the words, “Grand-
ma loves Gracie.” But the dear gentle voice
is silent now, no more will she come to
cheer and bless us, but by the help of the
the Merciful Father above we may meet her
where partings are no more. .

If any of the QIOESEIIOLD readers ca
give a tested recrpe for soft soap without
ashes it would be very gladly received. I
have tried concentrated lye, and the soap
was worse than none. A leach and ashes
to ﬁll it I cannot get, but I want to make
such soap as the lye from good wood ashes
Will make. »

My bird used to sing very beautifully, but
now does not make a noise except a chirp-
ing like the female canary. lie is nearly two
years old and has done moulting long ago.
He is not sick, is sleek and healthy looking.
Cannot some- one tell me what to do for
him?

Though beaten by “Dade” on the celery
question, and grateful to Beatrix for the
recipes for cooking it, I am yet to be con-
vinced that any mode of cooking is an im-
provement over the natural state, raw. Will
some one please give us their own exper-
ience in growing celery?

MAYBELLE.

BRIDGEWATER.

+
CHLORIDE OF LIME FOR CURRANT
WORMS.

 

I would like to ask Mrs. Fuller how she
applied chloride of lime to her currant
bushes. I tried it, by sifting over the
bushes in the morning when the dew was

on, using two ﬁve cent boxes, the bushes

came near disappearing before the worms.
I have used white hellebore ever since
currant worms came in fashion, with good
results, one tablespoonful to a pail of water
being suﬂicient to go over the bushes, and
never had to apply it more than twice, sel-
dom but once: ﬁfteen minutes would do the
work, while I sifted lime one hour and a
quarter, before any one else was up.

I would recommend that the directions
for canning corn, as given last year, be re-
published for the beneﬁt of new subscribers,
as I know them to be good.

Lima beans gathered when ripe are just
boss, soaked over night and cooked with
dried corn, and made into succotash pre~
cisely the same as in summer.

E. L. Nye’s letter encourages me to tell
my strawberry story. One year last spring
we planted three rows across the garden
(ten or twelve rods long) from which we
have just picked over eight bushels. We
did not keep the runners off, but let them
grow thick in the rows, keeping out all
weeds and grass; they are of three varie-
ties, Wilson, Crescent and Downing, the
latter is not a proliﬁc bearer. We sold part
of the strawberries for ﬁve cents per quart.
Just as I had ﬁlled my last can with well
sweetened berries, a neighbor called in and
told me they were much nicer put up with-
out sugar.

 

I also raise ground cherries in the garden,
which areraised the same as tomatoes and
I think are excellent for ‘sauce and pies.

Let us hear from the poultry raisers of
this HOUSEHOLD, as I am much interested
in poultry raising, and promise you the
history of my thoroughbreds by and bye.

Will some one please give some sugges-
tions or practical plan by which money may
be raised to start a library in a quiet
country neighborhood.

What is the meaning of the phrase, “like
carrying coals to Newcastle.” Bass.

[We know of no better wayto start a
circulating library in a country neighbor-
hood or small village than to call a meeting
of those interested, enroll members, elect
ofﬁcers, agree upon a small sum to be paid
quarterly, to meet expenses and for the
purchase of new books, and solicit sub-
scriptions for a fund to start with. Such
regulations may be established relative to
the loaning of books, their care, etc., as
seem most convenient to the members.
Books are so cheap now that a little money
will go a long way in their purchase. And
such enterprises grow in popular favor, if
well conducted, and from small beginnings
often grow great things, as we all know.
But the committee appointed to purchase
the books ought to be pretty well up with
the times in literature, conversant with
authors, and able to make judicious selec-
tions. A circulating library, while it can
do a great deal of good if wisely conducted,
may be made the means of disseminating a
great deal of literary trash, more or less
harmful. We observed not long ago, in a
list of new purchases for a library in an
interior town in this State, books by The
Duchess, Ouida and Bertha Clay. Now,
however “thrillingly interesting” such
authors may be, and while at least the ﬁrst

and last named are not immoral, no good
can come to young people, whose literary
tastes are as yet unformed, by their perusal.
If you are going to waken a love for liter-
ature in the young, it is just as easy to
teach them to like good books, books which
are elevating in tone, as those that are
simply entertaining through sensationalism,
and which make the readers discontented
with commonplace life, and full of visions
of impossibilities.

Newcastle—on-Tyne is in the midst of the
coal-mining districts of England, and from
that point large quantities of coal are dis-
tributed all over Great Britain. “ Carrying
coals to Newcastle” would therefore be
something quite superfluous and unneces-
sary, and the phrase came into usage as a
synonym for that which is useless, or not
likely to give due returns, or an overstock-
ing of the market]

 

-o—o-a-—-——-——

CANNING STRAWBERRIES.

 

In answer to E. L. Nye’s inquiry in re-
gard to canning strawberries, I would say if
she will try my way I think she will be
pleased with the result. I ﬁnd strawber-
ries as easy to can and keep as any fruit,
and always put up a great many of them.
If possible, 1 have them picked in the
morning and get them ready while fresh.
For canning, after washing, put them in a
preserving kettle over a slow ﬁre, allow-

 

 

m:

 

 


 

 

 

  

T‘HE HOUSEHOLD.

 

ing one cup of granulated sugar to a can of
berries. Use no water, as they make juice
enough of themselves. Let” them come to
a boil slowly and boil about one minute.
Skim and can immediately. They will look
'very light-colored at ﬁrst, but turn darker
as they cool.

‘ There will be more juice than the berries
need, and to that I add more sugar and
make jelly, which is nice. I never cook
enough for more than two cans at a time,
as they muss so easily. I hope E. L. Nye
will try this and report if she is any better
pleased than with the preserves.

LENAWEE Jl'Ncrlox.
-——v—.OO—-——-——.

FLOWERS.

H.C.J.

 

a.

“Flowers. ﬂowers, beautiful ﬂowers.
Unfolding to brighten this dark world of ours;
The pale sweet blossoms of early sprlllg.
Bright clusters the days of summer bring:
And the gifts of princely autumn too.
Stately and tall. of richest hue;

No painter’s skill can e’er portray, .
The countless beauties they display. ’

How our hearts are cheered by the ﬁrst
blossoms of spring; how eagerly we watch
for them after the snow has melted from
the hillside, and the breeze comes soft and
warm! The darkest places are brightened
by their presence, the hardest heart fosters
a love for them. There is no place where
they are not appropriate. We place them
in the hands of our dead, we lay them
lovingly around them, group them in
bouquets, and they take away our horror of
death. We twine them in wreaths for the
bridal, the orange, the rosebud, and white
lily too, mass them in fanciful shapes,
horseshoes, umbrellas and bells, under
which the happy couple plight their vows
“till death do them part.” We send them,
God’s messengers, to the bedside of the
sick, arare glimpse of the outer world to
the suffering, lonely one; their lovely color
and form charm the eye, and the deli—
cate fragrance ﬁlls the room, and for the
moment pain is forgotten, the lonely feel-
ing passes away; each ﬂower, possessing a
language of its own, breathes hope, love
and conﬁdence. June has been rightly
named the Queen month, with its profusion
of roses.

“ And what so rare as the days of June?
No matter how‘barren the past may have been.
’Tis enough for us now that the leaves are
green.
We may shut our eyes,
knowing
That skies are blue, and grass is growing.“

And along with the roses come the lilies.

“ Lilies washed by de we of night.
Pure as snow of clearest White,
Bending from their slender stems,
Meet the kiss the sunbeam sends;
Fragrant as the blushing rose,
Sweetest ﬂower the summer knows.“

but we cannot help

What can be more exquisite than the
water-lily, lying so gracefully and lightly
on the blue water, with its lovely white
leaves and heart of gold, swaying to and
fro with the ripples, smiling in the sun-
shine, but closing so swee'ly when his rays
are gone! You all have read no doubt that

“ When to the ﬂowers so beautiful,
The Father gave a name;
Back came a little blue-eyed one,
All timidly it c~me;
And standing at its Father’s feet,
And gazing at his face,
It said in low and trembling tones,
‘ Alas! I have forgot!’
Kindly the Father then looked down,
And said ‘ b‘orget-me-not.’ ”

I read such a lovely story once about the
moss rose, that when the Father walked

 

upon earth he was foot-sore and weary,
and rested where a soft carpet of moss
covered the earth1 and a beautiful rose was
blooming there, and cheered him with its
fragrance and color, and he said to the
rose, “Heneeforth, in return for the pleasure
thou hast given me, a delicate covering of
moss shall thou have, and henceforth be
known as the Moss Rose.”

It strikes me that I never knew another
such a beautiful custom as that of Decora-
tion Day, laying ﬂowers on the graves of
the dead soldiers. If, as is reported, the
idea was originated by our southern sisters,
we should let all past prejudices be forgot-
ten and honor and love them for this truly
Christian act.

“O‘er graves ofthe loved ones
Strew beautiful ﬂowers.
‘Tis the germ of affection,
To sweeten life‘s hours.
With roses and lilies
Let us deck each lllOUllti.
Al the head of the dear ones.
Spend violets round."

Oh! we cannot honor the fallen heroes in
any better manner. It keeps their memory
fresh and green. For many a noble head
lies low, many a brave heart gave its last
throbs on the battle ﬁeld, or in the hospital
for our country’s cause.

“The bravest are the tenderest,
The loving are the darlllg."

In death they are the same, the great
general and the humble private. It is all
the same where the great tomb is ﬁlled and
covered with elaborate designs in ﬂowers,
or where the humble grave in one corner of
a rural cemetery bears the one little bouquet
of daisies; the one is the offering of a great
nation for her illustrious dead, the other a
tribute from some loving heart, laid with
reverent hands on the grave of the dead.
It is the spirit of love that prompts the act.
it is well to cultivate the love for God’s
beautiful things, for of nature’s thousand
voices there is none more eloquent than the
ﬂowers.

BATTLE CREEK. EVANGELINE.

__...____.
ANSWER AND QUERY.

As we live on a fruit farm where almost
all kinds of fruit are grown, I have the
best of opportunities for trying experiments.
Last year I experimented with strawber-
ries, and E. L. Nye need have no anxiety
about the fruit put up without sugar. When
the cans are opened in winter the straw-
berries will be as fresh as when ﬁrst
cooked, and mine kept their color better
than when canned with sugar. I cooked
mine slowly abOut two hours, ‘skimming
when necessary, covered each can with a
little dress made of two thicknesses of
paper to exclude light. and set the cans in
a dry place in the cellar. Strawberries,
cherries, red and black raspberries retain
their ﬂavor much better canned without
sugar, and this yearI shall try peaches the
same way.

Last year I pickled a great many peaches,
The freestone varieties kept splendidly,
but a four gallon jar of White Heaths
(clingstone) fermented. I heated the

sirup twice and steamed the peaches the

second time, but to no effect—they would
spoil. Can any of the HOUSEHOLD tell
what I ought to do should the same occur
again?

PAW PAW.

E. R. 8.

 

 

CHILDREN’S FASHIONS.

 

Never before, I think, within the past
twenty years at least, have children’s fash-
ions been so plain and sensible as at the
present time. The elaborate pufﬁngs,
pleatings and ﬂounces formerly worn by
even ﬁve year olds, are discarded and for
every day, girls from three to ten, and older,
wear the the plain full skirts, with perhaps
a few tucks round the bottom, and the
blouse waists which are so cool and com—
fortable. For school wear such dresses are
often made of light weight woolens, and are
suitable and serviceable. Ladies who pre-
fer wash goods make up for their ten and
ﬁfteen-year old girls ginghams and sateens,
with plain skirts, simple apron draperies
without trimming, and yoke waists to be
worn with belts. Some of the unlined
gingham waists are like the oldffashioned
Garibaldi, in that they are ﬁtted to the
shoulders and the fullness gathered to the
belt at the waist; but generally they ﬁt the
immature tigtu'e better when some fullness
is added at the neck, both front and back.
Plain round basques are cut for these wash
dresses, with thin linings, and loosely but
smoothly ﬁtted. A pretty variation is to
add adeep pointed yoke in front, with the
fullness which would go into the darts
gathered at the short point of the basque at
the bottom. Lace, so popular on all sorts
of wash goods last year, is now conﬁned to
more dressy materials likelawns and mulls,
and better grades are used. Chambery
dresses are trimmed with embroidery. A
pretty dress for a six-year old consisted of
a plain skirt of a single width of embroid-
ery, gathered toaplain waist with bretelles
of a narrower embroidery. A sash of the
same color was tied round the waist, the
ends being ﬁnished with the embroidery,
but this might be omitted andabelt in-
serted, or the waist simply sewed in with
the skirt. I have seen some pretty white
suits with waistcoat fronts, the close ﬁtting
vest worn beneath being of solid embroid-
ery. The idea is pretty in plainer mater-
ial; a striped or plaided gingham basque
could have a plain vest of the dominant
color.

Childrens’ hats are usually quite large
and bent into the shape most becoming to
the juvenile wearers. For best, ﬁne white
leghorns or fancy straws are selected, left
unlined, and trimmed with ﬂuﬂy ostrich tips
or clusters of ﬂowers, daisies and rosebuds
being esnecially preferred. Ribbons and
silk scarfs trim everyday gear, and often a
rough straw has no decoration save a
straight band around the crown, and a full
bow where the wide brim is fastened against

lt.
-——90.——

AN INVITATION.

The subscribers have received an open in-
vitation to call on the Editor when visiting
Detroit. Much has been said of the tired
wife, but little about the housed-up Editor,
and I was thinking why not return the com-
pliment, and say “ Come, see the ups and
downs, the rough and tumble of a country
life!” We like to see our city friends, if
they will leave their agony at home. It
would not be all lost; we might gain a last-
ing impression of what our Editor is like,

 

  


 

4 THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

and she too might pick up some “ notes by
the way.” It is almost too late to frolic
in the hayﬁeld, but in the fall we generally
take a ride of about 15 miles, through a ﬁne
country to a huckleberry swamp, whose
mossy bed is almost like a Turkish carpet,
passing by lakes that would remind one of
the Lakes of Killarney. It is a rule that
each one shall pick in his or her own
basket, and take an equal share of heat and
dust. If we hitch Buck and Bright to the
lumber wagon, it is double fare, but a free
ride with the grays. Why not take a vaca-

tion? ANTI-OVER.
PLAmWILL.

STRAWBERRY J AM.

 

As I have put up half a bushel of this
delicious fruit for winter use in the form of
jam, I venture to give my method for
Dot’s beneﬁt, if not this season, at least
for another. I allow three-quarters of a
pound of sugar to a pound of fruit, put all
together, and cook about an hour, then put
in cans and seal while hot, exactly as if
canned. I consider the strawberry a rather
difﬁcult fruit to put up with success in
keeping. I ﬁnd strawberries require con-
siderable sugar; if canned with no sugar
the berries lose their color, and come out
of the can about the color of an underdone
biscuit, and about as insipid in taste. The
cans must be kept where it is dark.

DETROIT. MRS. C.

————«———_

ROSE LEAVES.

 

A correspondent in the last week’s
HOUSEHOLD asked how to prepare rose-
leaves for a perfume or pot—pourri jar. We
were not able to obtain, at 'the moment, the
directions desired, but in last week’s N. Y.
Tribune the following method was recom-
mended:

Gather rose petals in the morning and let
them lie in a cool place spread out to dry
for about an hour, then put them in a large
dish in layers with salt sprinkled over each
layer. Gather the roses for several morn-
ings till you have a quart of rose leaves; let
them stand for ten days, stirring every
morning. At the end of thistime mix them
with two ounces of crushed allspice and two
ounces of stick cinnamon broken in bits
and put the whole in a fruit jar, keeping it
covered tightly for six weeks. Now mix
together an ounce each of coarsely ground
mace, cinnamon, cloves and allspice, add
an ounce of orris root crushed and shredded,
two ounces of dried lavender ﬂowers and an
ounce of lemon verbena leaves thoroughly
dried. Mix all together, add a drop of oil
of roses (the most costly of all the ingred-
ients) and ﬁnally moisten with half a cup
of good Farina cologne. Such an odor-jar
or pot-pourri will lastforyears, though from
timeto time you may add a few fresh rose
petals, or once a year a drop of that precious
oil or attar of roses. Nothing gives so subtle
and refreshing an odor to a parlor as one of
these jars,which should he opened for an hour
every morning after the necessary sweeping
and dusting, then carefully c10s-ed.”

The above recipe calls for expensive in-
gredients, and some, as the attar of rose,
are not easily obtainable. Little glass tubes
containing 875a: drops of the attar of roses
sold here last Christmas for $1.50 each, and
the precious perfume is not often to be had
in that form. A much cheaper jar can be
made at less expense, but of course the per-
fume will not be as lasting nor as powerful
as if the atter, the concentrated sweetness

 

of a thousand roses, were employed. Gather
the petals of fresh'blown roses in the morn-
ing. Put in a shallow box a layer of rose

leaves, sprinkle with salt and then with a
mixture of ground cloves, mace and cinna-
men; add another layer of rose leaves, more

salt, spices, etc., until the box is full.

Cover with coarse muslin and dry in the

sun. The mixture may then be packed in

bottles or jars, with wide mouths and close

stoppers, and will emit a delightful odor”
Also nice for sachets, cushions, the quilted

bottoms made for bureau drawers, etc. One’s

rose garden mu be well supplied with this

most beautiful ﬂower, for large quantities

of leaves are needed.

.___——-...-————-

KNITTED SKIRTS.

 

These skirts are very warm and comforta-
ble, handsome, easily made, and the follow-
ing directions, from Harper’s Bazar, will
enable any person who can crochet to make
one. They are almost universally worn in-
stead of ﬂannel underskirts, and make very
nice presents for Christmas:

“Three-threaded Saxony yarn is the best
or working under—skirts which are to have
constant wear. Four-threaded is too heavy
for a crocheted skirt, and two—threaded is
too light.

“A medium-sized skirt of almost any
pattern requires about eight skeins of yarn.
For the one given below ﬁve skeins of gray
and two of dark red, seven in all, are sufﬁ-
cient.

“Using a medium bone crochet needle,
make a chain of 280 stitches, join, and work
one long crochet in each of ﬁrst four chain
stitches, three in the ﬁfth, and one in each
of. next four, which completes one point.
Miss two stitches in the foundation chain,
and without making any chain stitches be-
tween, repeat the points to end of row,
making twenty-six in all. Commencing the
second row, make one long stitch in second
stitch of ﬁrst point, one in each of the three
following, three in the centre stitch, one in
each of the four following. Miss the last
stitch and repeat. Continue widening at
centre of point and narrowing at each side
for 24 rows without increasing the stitches.
1n the 25th row make ﬁve in middle stitch,
then in the 26th row make ﬁve long stitches
on each side of point, with three in centre
stitch as before, the point having been
widened one stitch on each side. Make
six rows, then widen again. After the 38th
row commence the stripes around the bot-
tom, work one row of red, then one row of
gray, two rows of red, one row of gray,
three rows of red, one row of gray, making
three graduated stripes of red, separated by
single rows of gray. Next, with the red
yarn, make a frill two inches deep around
the bottom. Work one long stitch in ﬁrst
stitch of point, one in second, one chain
stitch, two long stitches in third, one chain,
two in fourth, one chain, two in ﬁfth, one
chain, two in sixth, one chain, one in
seventh, ﬁve in center stitch, and down the
other side of point in same order. Repeat
to end of row, making three chain stitches
between the points. Commencing the next
row, make one long stitch in second stitch,
and one in every following stitch with one
chain between them, three stitches in centre
stitch, and three chain stitches between the
points. Repeat the second row until the
frill is deep enough, then ﬁnish with a picot
edge by making a chain of six stitches, miss
one long stitch, and catch the chain with a
single crochet stitch to third long stitch; re.
peat to end of row. Finish the t0p of skirt
with one row of open-work. into which run
a ribbon for drawing the skirt.

“Very dainty skirts can be made by using
deep cream for the upper part and very pale
blue or pink for the stripes and frill. A
little more serviceable than these are skirts

 

of pale pink or blue with stripes of contrast-
ing colors. Instead of graduated stripes,
three even stripes of one or two rows look
well, as does also one broad stripe. The
frill may be made of the same color as the
stripes or the shade of the skirt, with only
the picot edge of the contrasting color. A
pretty skirt of pale blue had ﬁve stripes of
one row each, the top one pale pink, the
next a darker shade, and so on to the dark-
est shade at the bottom.

“A very pretty, easily made skirt is
worked thus :. Make a foundation chain of
desired length, join, work three long stitches
in one chain stitch, make one chain, miss
four chain stiches in foundation, work three
long stitches in next; repeat to end of row.
In the second and each following row work
three long stitches in center stitch of group
of three, and one chain stitch between. The

' skirt is made as wide at the top as at the

bottom, and requires no widening. After
the body of the skirt is ﬁnished, crochet
separater and over-seam to the edge any
preferred pattern of lace, using yarn either
the color of skirt or of a contrasting 0010f.”

-———-—OOO———

HOUSEHOLD HINTS.

 

AN elderly lady says that if No. 24 black
thread is knitted in with the yarn in the
parts of stockings which receive the most
wear, the knees, heels and toes, they will
wear very much better by doing so.

 

A GREAT many people complain of the
unpleasant odor of boiled cabbage, and also
of the indigestibility of the vegetable. Re-
move the loose leaves, cut the cabbage into
quarters, removing the core, and put into
plenty of boiling water. Boil half an hour,
over a good ﬁre. The cabbage will come
out tender, and pale green. Boiling a long
time in little water causes the disagree
able odor and the sodden indigestibility.

 

THE best cement for crockery, or almost
any purpose, is a pure article of lime mixed
with white of egg. The best lime is that
from oyster shells. The shells should be
cleaned, well burned, air-slaked and ﬁnely
powdered. The quantity of powder which
will lie upon a dime, mixed to a thin paste
with white of egg, will~ ﬁrmly unite any or—
dinary piece of crockery. Another ex-
cellent cement is the thick part of white
lead paint, neatly applied. A pitcher
mended at the spout with this has been
used two years, and bids fair to last as
many more, so far as the original break is
concerned.

 

FREED of seeds, fruit juices are, says
Miss Clarissa Potter, invaluable in correct-
ing deranged. bowels. They relieve con-
stipation and check diarrhoea. This seems a
contradiction, but personal observation
justiﬁes the statement. I was not afraid to
give my nine-months old baby bread
softened with these juices, when lfound
milk nauseated her, the child having in-
herited a strong antipathy against it, and,
though my other children have been “ bread
and milk babies,” she has always been a
bread and fruit juice baby. A pint of red,
ripe, currant or raspberry juice, tart, thick
as cream, with ﬂavor and sunshine, and as
fresh as when swelling the ripe berry on the
stem, is just the gift to send an invalid
friend who is heartily tired of her moulds
of insipid, sweetish jellies—Horticultural
Times.

 

"it

s ‘v. wv’ﬁfm’Bﬁﬁﬂm

 

