
 

 

 

DETROIT, JAN. 7, 1898.

 

 

THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement...

 

 

UNANSW ERED.

Why is it that the ten lerest feet must tread the
roughest road?

Why is it that the weakest bask must carry the
heaviest load?

Whilethe feet that are surest and ﬁrmcst have
the smoothest path to go,

While the back that is straightest and strongest
has never a burden to know.

Why is it the brightest eyes are the ones soon dim
with tears?

Way is it the lightest ,heart must ache and ache
for years? .

While the eyes that are hardest and coldest shed
never a bztter tear,

And the heart that is smallest and meanest has
never an ache to fear.

Why is it those that are as ldest have always the
gayest laugh?

Why is it those who need not have always the
"biggest half?"

While those who have neVer a sorrow have seldom
a smile to give.

And those who want just a little must strive and
smuggle to live.

Why is it the noblest thoughts are the ones that
are never expreased?

Why is it the grandest deeds are those that are
never confessed?

While the thoughts that are like all others are
the ones we always tell,

And the deeds worth little praise are the deeds
that are published well.

Why is it the sweetest smile has for its sister a
sigh?

Why is it the strongest love is the NW: we always
pats by?

While the smile that is cold and indifferent is
the smile for which we pray.

And the love we kneel to and worship is only
common clay.

Why is it tile thing we ﬁcan have is the thing we
always refuse?

Why is it none of us lead the life if we could
we‘d choose?

The things that we all can have are the things we
always hate,

And life seems never complete no matter how
long we wait.

-—Elizabgth Stuart Martin, in the Chicago Mail.

W

SCOT I‘ISE SONGS.

I think I may say without fear of con-
tradiction that Scotland has lurnished
us with the most and the sweetest and
tenderest of our songs and ballads.
England has given us a few songs which
are yet popular; such as “Wapping Old
Stairs,” “Sally in our Alley,” “His ‘Art
was True to Poll;” and we have our own
“Suwanee River,” “Old Kentucky

Ham‘s: “Marching Through Georgia.” 1

which are distinctively American, and
may claim “Home, Sweet Home” but
though its author was an American it is
somehow a song of all nations, every-

 

l

l

1

body claims it. But when . you wish to
ﬁnd simple, tender, pathetic songs, not
few, but many, you must go to the liter—
ature oi the “land ’0 cakes,” the land
of mist and mountain, of term and loch,
bonnie Scotia. However thorny her
thistle, her songs are most musical. In
them we perceive the exquisite beauty
of the old ballads in their absolute sim-
plicity.

I enjoyed an evening of Scottish song
recently—a concert which, but for a
mishap to the troupe of singers from
Scotland who were to render the pro-
gramme, would have been all Scotch.
But it was a Scotch evening, after all.
for we had the skirl of the bagpipes
with a McKenzie at the cheater and
tartan ribbons ﬂuttering; but though
the sound is said to be sweetest of mush:
in Highland earsl must confess that to
one unaccustomed to heather and moor
the vine-lei“ ‘2. why more Scotchmen
don’t emigrate.

And the audience was one not often
seen in an opera house. Grey heads
were numerous; decorcus, “sensible”
black velvet bonnets that could in no
wise be called theatre hats, covered the
whitened locks of a large pro portion of
the women, and the men had an air of
solid business prosperity and canny
Scotch caution and shrewdness. But
how their eyes brightened as the med-
ley the orchestra played changed from
“Campbells‘ are Comin’ -" to “Bonnie
Dundee” and “Blue Bonnets o’er the
Border!” And in the cr. zy Scotch reel
I think some of these grey-beards saw.
not the footlights and the curtain, but
lads and losses footing it right merrily
at a village fair, and felt themselves
again young and agile and able to dance
with the best. And as if in anticipation
of these memory pictures, after the
piper had piped unto us,and pranced up
and down the stage with that queer
little strut which somehow seems a part
of the “sklrl,” there came out a. quar-
tette of young dancers,clad in full High-
land costume, kilts and plaids and tar-
tan,bonnets and eagle ieathers,and gave
us a. Scotch reel in its breathless, intri—
cate steps. I cannot say that the Scotch
dances are remarkable for grace and
beauty; Lottie Collins and her “Ta-ra-
ra-boom ~de~ay” can be equally agile and
more graceful; but for good, straight-
forward business-like exercise there’s
nothing goes ahead of a. Scotch reel. I .

 

 

" Wife.
. the husband, and he put in a prompt

don’t see how even a Scotch Pres-by
terian could see anything wickediu such :
dancing.

Thcnwe had a. ballad, “Get up ennui .
Bar the Door,” which setiorth in a good. ,
baritone the quarrel of a Scotch husband:
and his wife as to which should get up
and draw the bar that secured the door,
Neither would rise; and after argument
and persuasion failed,it was agreed that
the one who spoke first should be ties *
victim. Silence reigned for along time,
broken at last by the arri ral cl hm»; ,
storm stayed travelers who begged
shelter. No word was spoken, though
the strangers were made welcome, and ,
the new arrivals Concluded the cct‘tagsrs -
must be deaf and dumb, and one.-as.-~
nouuced his purpose of kissing thegnmd
This prospect- aroused the ire'ct

protest which. caused him to be Lin--
mediatcly reminded that since he lad
ﬁrst spokin, it was his lot to berths
door.

And then 5 west Jessie C nhlette,gcwcr~
ed like a lily in white, sang “Edinbcrn 2
Tons” the story of Jock and Jennie.

"T’was within_a mile o'Edi-iborotoun-
in the rosy time o' the year.
Sun-ct ﬂ )wers bloomed and the grass was

own
And each shepherd Woo‘d his dear.

B innie Jockwyhlithc and L: l)’,
Kissed sweet J ennie makin‘ hay.

The lassie blushed and frowning cried
‘Na us. :’will never do,

1 03110.1. cinnu. wiuna. winna
Manna—buckle to‘,"

The song recites how Jennie, weer“
she became convinced Jockey meant
business, allowed herself to be persuad-
ed to “buckle to.” And for an encore.
we had that sweet and touching song of.
Burns, “Bonnie DJOU,” not half an -
well-known as it ought to be:

“Ye banks and braes o’ b innie Doon.
How can ye bloom sue fresh an’ fair.
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And 1 sac weary. fu’ 0’ cure.
Tnou‘lt break my be il‘t. thou bonnie bird,
that wantons through the ﬂowering thorns: ;:
Thnu min-l‘st me of departed joys,
Departed never to return.

"Aft has I raved by bonnie Deon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine
And ilka bird sans: 0' its love
And t‘ou'lly sae did I o’ mine.
Wa’ lightsom.- heart I pou’d a rose 2,
Fu’ sweet upon its thorny tree,
But my fame lover stole my rose
But ah! he left the thorn wi‘ me."

What is there about “Robin Adsdr‘i"
that so moves one? It is sad—almost all:
the Scotch songs save the warlike ones
like “Bonnie Dundee” are sad—bin. -
when the alto horn took up the air and.
carried it while the other instruments .
harm onizzd and mingled in delicious:-

' , {glit'ﬁ‘ﬁiﬁi

 


 

2 The Household.

 

melody, swelling at last into a full
volume of tones so rich and full you
wished they might last forever, the re-
frain “Robin, Robin, Robin Adair”
seemed like a human heart cry.

And “Afton Water," with its slow
rippling music like the course of “clear-
winding r1lls,” what a rural picture it
paints for us in its invocation!

“Flow gently. sweet Afton, among thy green
Flowrggiifly. l’ll sing thee a. son: in thy praise:
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

“Then stock-dove whose echo resounds through
' the glen.

Ye wild whistling biackbirds in you thorny den.
Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming for-

I 01111ng you di-turb not my slumbering fair."
Another quaint ballad whose author
I do not know but whose words have
been most appropriately set to music,
was “CallerHerrin,”’ the fis h- wife’s song
as she calls her herrings through the
town. With the last stanza the music
changes to a minor key and wailingly
reminds us how men go down in ships
and face cold and storm and death, and
women are widowed and children or-
phaned that we may have our herrings
cheap; and the cry, “Caller herrin’,
caller herrin‘," comes echoing back to
as as if the burdened woman was passing
along seeking more willing customers.
Yet, what a contrast between the
picture the song calls up in the imagina-
tion, silver—skinned herring shining in
the sun,astout callin buskit in brats toil-
ing through the narrow street, and Ithe
fashionably attired lady whose gloved
ﬁngers toy \ ith her sheet music as she
trills the homely cry! The sense of in-
.congruity is sometimes overwhelming.

It has often been said that the popular
songs of a country illustrate the life of
its common people; and Arlo Bates has
written with scathing criticism of the
realistic songs of the present. like ”An.
nie Rooney” and Maggie Murphy’s
Home,” which he styles “ballads of the
tenement house,” “of the vulgar,by the
vulgar, for the vulgar.” But Scotch folk-
songs breathe a spirit of devotion,aﬁec-
tion and fealty. especially those written
by Robert Burns and Sir Walter Scott.
One of the strongest traits of the Scotch
character is most frequently illustrated
-—fealty, devotion,faithfulness, whether
to love or land or chieftain. “The Scots
are. aye clannish bodies!” "Highland
Mary." "Ae Fond Kiss Before We
Part,” and “0’ all the Airts the Winds
can Blow,” are beautiful examples of the
ﬁrst: “Auld Lang Sync” and “John
Anderson my jo” of friendly union; and
nowhere can be feund a more deep,
faithful, heart-felt loyalty than echoes
from the songs of the adherents of the
ill-fated Stuarts. And did not the “V‘Vi-
zard of the North” give us that grand
lyric that is like apatriotic bugle call in

ts appeal to loyalty to “our aiu coun-

tree.”

"Breathes there the man with soul so dead
Who never to himself hath set
‘This is my own. my native land!‘ "

Only the student of Shakespeare
knows how many of our quotations and

 

familiar phrases are borrowed frbm the
immortal Bard of Avon. So also only
those who are familiar with his writ-
ings are aware how many, how very
many of our sweetest songs were
written by Scotland’s peasant poet. Few
indeed are the exceptions. And per-
haps the most beautiful among the ex-
ceptions are one already mentioned,
“Robin Adair” (of which the peculiarly
thrilling music is the greater charm),
and Lady Nairn’s “Land 0’ the Leal.”
A friend‘s terse acknowledgment, “it
breaks me all up," expresses the effect
of its pathetic lines:

I’m wearin awa‘. J ean.
Like snaw when its thaw. J can.
I'm wearin’ awa'

[‘0 the land 0' the leal.
There's nae sorrow there, J can.
There's neither canld or care, Jean.
The day is aye fair

in the land 0’ the leal.

"Ye were aye leal an’ true. J ean.
Your task is ended noo. J can,
And PM welcome you

To the land 0’ the leal.
Our bonnie bairn's there. J can.
She was baith gnid an’ fair. Jean.
0, we grudged her right sair

To the land 0‘ the leal.

“Then dry that tearfu’ c‘e. J can,
My soul lungs to be free, J ean.
An’ angels wait on me
To the land 0‘ the leall
Now fare ye weel my ain J can.
This world‘s care is vain. Jean.
We’ll meet an’ aye be fain
In the land 0’ the leal.” .
BEATRIX.

_——...—_

CHRISTMAS AMONG THE ANGELS.

In this summer land where nature is
always smiling through life of leaf and
bud, one loses faith in the‘alnxaaee and
ﬁnds it is somewhat local and bigoted
to believe much in the seasons. Even
six years ago few houses were built here
which provided for ﬁres, because none
were thought necessary; but eastern
people have come in so fast, with cast-
ern expectations of cold and eastern
ideas of comfort, that now the ideal
house has all conveniences common to
our eastern homes.

Leaving California last June,I return-
ed in early October to ﬁnd the same
golden days. the same dazzling,buoyant
air, and it seemed to me the same sweet
rose-bloom. The fresh foliage I left
had grown old and dust-laden, like a
worn garment. The fragrant waxen
orange-beauty had changed to the grow-
ing fruit. When half-grown or unripe,
oranges are the greenest things on
earth. They seem to have gathered in-
to themselves all the darkest shadows
of green and there they hang till the
sunshine conquers them, diffusing slow-
ly its gold through all their ripening
spheres.

Friends told me the summer had been
almost too cool. I had expected Octo-
her would be warmer. It was perfect.
Glory of sun day after day,once or twice
a little sprinkled tenderness of rain, but
not a day all overcast till the last of
November.

Such a shining time for two months,

when we needed part of some days to.

close our south blinds to keep out the
sun! There is something indescribable

 

about California weather,how extremes
can meet in it; the way the sun can
warm and the wind chill is wonderful.
Take a walk on a day of bright sun-
shine when the wind is blowing, and
while you are perspiring you will be
chilling, and while you want a wrap
you don’t want one; you feel you would
like to sit down you are so warm, but
are no sooner seated than you get up
wondering how near the iceberg is off
which that zephyr is blowing on your
back. You carry your umbrella of
course, and yet cannot tell whether to
use it for keeping off sun or wind. The
walk is pleasant, but you invariably say
on getting back to your room, “I never
saw anything like it!” That is one of
the enjoyments of California. This
country opens up a new line of percep-
tions and experiences. For instance,
when it rains take a walk. Don’t wear
a trained dress, don’t be afraid of taking
cold it you get wet, but go out with the
fearlessness and receptivity of a child to
see how it rains here, and how the out-
door world enjoys a California shower.
A shower may last from aday to a. week.
It rains steadily and- for a change it
pours. We had a week’s rain the last
of November at the opening of the rainy
season; one quarter of the entire rain
fall of the year fell. Then the sun
glowed out and everything was renewed ..

The world looked as if a new sweet
consciousness had grown in its heart
during the dark days. Nothing dim-
med its beauty till several days ago it
grew cloudy and we wondered if there
would be a dark and rainy Christmas.
The evening of the 23d. the rain began
falling, warm and gentle as a summer
shower. All day yesterday it fell as if
the cloud-realm were exhaustless.
Sheet after sheet of streaming drops was
folded upon us. I went out to walk. I
did not have a gondola or a pair of
rubber boots,but I did long for the boots
before I got back. In the course of two
hours the streets in some places where
my walk led me were the beds of rivers
on each side, running in dancing waves
and ripples of merriment. The street
crossings were almost impassable. I
came to a ditch freshly dug to keep the
street-car line from inundation;its banks
were soft, I cast a wistful eye to the
other side, the earth softened and sank
the longer I stood. As I pondered be-
fore the plunge whether I should reach
the opposite bank or be ingloriously
buried in the muddy tide, a voice broke
upon my reﬂection: “Excuse me, Ma-
dam, can I help you across?” A hand
reached across the "gulf,” and I was
safe on the other shore.

I came by the park, and as I passed
the grass seemed to green and the
leaves to bend to the rhythm of the
drops; the earth bubbled over with
gladness and freshened each moment
under the soft touches of the cloud-
fairies. The jeweled buds of the roses
bent their crimson crowns, and here
and there soft petals drifted down like


The Household.

8

 

fairy barks freighted with pearls of
rain.

The rose is the queen of ﬂowers here,

she is never absent, from her realm.
There are times of jubilee when she
:lings a magniﬁcent wealth of bloom and
fragrance over her kingdom, but all the
year the regal ﬂower unfolds her beauty
and breathes her sweet spirit upon the
'air. .
'- - The rain ceased before the dawn, so
Christmas morning came hushed and
holy, and through the warm gentle day
bursts of sunlight have ﬂashed through
the clouds, ﬁlling the land with beauty;
while round the earth’s electric circle
has ﬂashed to-day the sweetly solemn
truth that we are nearer the Christ-life
in its fulﬁllment than we have been be-
fore. HATTIE L. HALL.

L09 ANGEL“.

_——...——

A RE MONSTR AN 3E.

 

"Why don’t parents visit the school?”
is a question so often asked as to become
slightly wearisome. I wish to propound
the opposite query—“Why do parents
visit the school?” If we teachers are
not competent to teach the pupils wh y
are we hired? Certainly if we are not
competent not one woman in ﬁfty is any
the wiser for her visit to the school-
room.

If there is anything that make
me feel tired all over it is to get .my
school into good running order for the
session and then be obliged to respond
to a knock which heralds some woman
come “to visit the school and see how
dear Johnny is getting along.” General-
ly speaking she would do much better
to stay home and patch Johnny’s trous-
ers. She comes in. seats herself in my
chair, and ask questions about things
she cannot comprehend when explain-
ed. .

The routine of the school, so much
derided but so very necessary in our
crowded primary departments, is more
or less upset; the children stare and
neglect their lessons, and when her
own particular child comes to recite he
fails,and the mother looks as if it were
all the teacher’s fault. She does not
understand why the ﬁrst class are not
taught the alphabet as she was “when
she was young” instead of words and
sentences, and wonders why they play
with little blocks and sticks.

When school is over does she depart?
By no means; she rises and keeps me
standing for another half hour while
she tells me all about Johnny’s preter.
natural brightness, his attacks of croup.
his age when he out 1115 ﬁrst tooth, etc.,
etc. I think myself lucky if she does
not favor me with her entire family
history, At last when it is quite too
late for me get through with the daily
report in time to make a cbntemplated
call or go down town, she goes; and I
return to my desk wondering what this
same woman would think if I should
walk into her house some Saturday

0

 

morning and investigate her modes of
housekeeping.

But the woman who walks in and
stays is immeasurably preferable to the
bore who comes to the door but is quite
sure she cannot come in. Instead she
keeps me in the hall. while the young-
sters make things lively in the room. I
don’t blame them; we used to be much
worse in the High School whenever
our teacher left us for a moment; but I
have no patience with the woman who
has so little common sense that she can-
not see the impropriety of interrupting
a business woman during business hours.

I do not wish to be understood to say
that a mother should not come to see
the "school-woman," as one note of
excuse was addressed. It is sometimes
very necessary for her to do so and is a
kindness to the teacher; only let her
come after school hours when we can
give her the attention she demands in-
stead dividing it between her and sixty
pupils.

As a general thing, the mothers who
keep their children clean and teach
them good manners have little occasion
for vi31ting the school. It is those
whose children are “so good but just a
triﬂe strong willed,” “very bright but
not inclined to stud y," or “so very obe-
dient but will play truant," who try the
already over-strained nerves and tem-
per of teachers.

Men have their own business and re-
sp:ct that of others. Let women proﬁt
by their example.

In my two years of teaching I have
found out whv women are always having
trouble with their servants. I wouldn't
work under a woman as long as there
was any work in the world with a man
to boss it. I have had men come to me
to introduce their children, to bring
back truants, and even one half-intoxi-
cated individual who brought his boy
half an hour after school began and did
not want him marked tardy; but not one
ever failed to be respectful and even
courteous according his light. And
above all, they never put on their good
clothes and come “to visit the school."

Pour HURON. E. C.

M.—

STATISTICS OF WOMEN’S WORK.

Ihave been much interested in that
part of the ninth annual report of the
Bureau of Labor which relates to
women’s work and wages, and
have spent considerable time in
the review of the summaries made
by its compilers. This is the ﬁrst
time (except a meagre canvass in 1884)
that the condition of working women
in this State has been investigated. In
a way the statistics thus gathered are
valuable, as an indication of the worth of
women's toil, though always their in-
completeness militates against the pos-
sibility of obtaining a correct idea on
the subject. And always too the vast
army of the incompetent brings down
the average of wages to a minimum for

 

all. In the report I have mentioned
one hundred and thirty-seven employ-
ments are catalogued as “open to
women, but not all in which women’s
labor is employed are named. In this
city 6,108 women workers, employed by
102 ﬁrms, are accounted for. The high
est wage repo:ted is in piece work,
where by long practice and skill a wo-
man has become an expert and can earn
$3 per day. .

But the highest regular day‘s wage is
$1.66}, a very limited number receiv-
ing that amount; and the lowest is twen-
ty-ﬁve cents, earned by the weary little
girls whose tired feet respond to the
peremptory call of “Ca—ash !” in dry
goods stores. The average earning of
the woman toiler in this city is 79% cents
per day, $4.633L per week, $219.28} per
year; and the average expenses of
these wage-earners are $207.85% yearly.
One thousand one hundred and nineteen
were able to save something out of their
wages : 4,099 saved nothing. The aver-
age savings of the fortunate ones
were $52.2”: each—not much chance
for clipping coupons in one’s old age
on such savings.

I was surprised at the low wages paid
dressmakers. Few of those who sew
in shops earn over $5 per week. J udg-
ing by what it costs to get a dress
made, there must be a wide margin for
the Mesdames. A pant-maker can
earn $3.80 per week; a coat maker $4 ;
a shirt~maker “$4.43; a cloak~maker
from $7 to $8; button makers. $2.89; a
seamstress,$5; I believe wages given the
for seamstresses and dressmakers
to be too low, unless in shows where ap-
prentices are employed almost entirely.
Nearly every dressmaker who goes out
by the day demands and obtains from
$1.50 to $2.50 a day, according to ability.
A woman who is good at cutting and
ﬁtting and has taste in addition is al-
ways in demand at good wages.

Wages in the shoe factories are fair,
but there is not work during the entire
year. In the cigar and tobacco facto-
ries, 27 bunch-makers report earnings
of $9 per week. Four hand workers earn
$16 50; 46 cigar-makers earn $8.35; 31
earn $5.75; eleven earn $10 34; tobac
co strippers $2.80. Cigar-making is
“piece-work,” and earnings vary with
dexterity. The giris in the capsule
factory seem better paid than in other
lines, and as I have sometimes passed
the factory as they were coming. out at
noon and night, I have noticed them
tobe very intelligent. nice appearing
girls, well dressed and apparently well
fed. There are many girls employed
in corset factories, where earnings
range from $3 for the “ boxers" to $5.47
for the steel stitchers; most of those
engaged in the work average $5 and
above. The ﬁnishers in a laundry
get $6 and $6.50 ; starchers and ironers
about the same. Girls in the match
factories get low wages. Many of them
are Polacks, and you can smell brim-
stone half a block oﬁ when the force

 


    

The Household.

 

 

emerges at “quitting time.” The high-
est wage is $4.20. Work in the chemi-
cal laboratories, of which Detroit has
two of the largest in the world, is so
well paid—according t0 the general run
of wages—that girls esteem it a great ad-
vantage to secure employment in them,
and rather look down upon their less
fortunate fello w-workers. There is also
the chance for advancment which is so
much prized by an industrious, willing
worker. Girls in the rag-picking es-
tablishments have the most disagree-
able work of any and are paid poorly;
640entsaday is the highest any re-
ceive and the full ten hours’ labor is
exacted.

Saleswomen in stores earn from $4
to $6 per week, a great many receiving
but $5. Forewomen earn more, $10 and
$1]. Three girls get $11.67 per week
as saleswomen in cloak rooms ; but they
are not only good saleswomen but have
good ﬁgures and “an air” which helps
sell many garments in the course of a
year. They try on the cloak to; show
the intending purchaser “how it will
look ;” and the deluded woman buys it,
thinking it would look as well on her
pudgy, round-shouldered self as on the
slight, graceful form of the woman lay-
ﬁgure.

One woman earns $4.50 oer week and
supports a husband and ﬁve children.
Another, in contrast to the ten hours

' , per diem required of other toilers,

works six hours a day and has" Thurs-
dav afternoons to herself, as a
domestic; still another who does
housework earns $3 per week,
anl has her board and from one
to three hours per day to herself. One
girl works ten hours a day, and yet puts
in ﬁve weeks, or 300 heurs, of over-
time each year. A widow is support-
ing herself and her ten children. A
great many are supporting an invalid
parent, or little brothers and sisters, or
are helping to pay off a mortgage.
Others not only receive their board at
home, but are aided by their parents
and spend their earnings for dress and
amusements. Many married women
do their housework nights and morn-
ings, in addition to their regular day ’s
labor. In glancing over the Report, I
observed that a professional room ren-
ter at Grand Rapids makes $20 a week
at her business, the most proﬁtable em-
ploy ment named. None of that profession
are named in the statistics of Detroit,
but there are plenty of them here, and
their plunderings are calculated to
raise the average of daily wages con-
siderably.

Generally speaking, the conditions
under which women work in this city
are good. Buildings are well lighted and
ventilated in most instances, with prop-

er conveniences, kept in as good order.

as is possible whereso many are congre-
gated. Wages are too low. But this
seems something which cannot be rem-
- edied, so long as for every woman who
works, another stands ready to take her

 

place at the same or even lower wages.
And I do not doubt that, if every One of
the 6,000 women: 1? {earners in this
city should go out 3511 strike tomorrow,
six thousand other women would be
ready to march to the factory
doors, saying to the employers.
“ Hire us l” There are “unions”
among the cigar-makers and some oth-
er occupations. and‘va little flurry occa-
sionally occurs _- among them, when
they will not work themselves nor allow
others, but there is not the esprit (16
ms among women which exists among-
men, and the strike soon “ﬁzzles” be-
cause those engaged in it do not “hold
out,” but is said that where the women
are organized, are the most intelligent
and best paid workers. A signiﬁcant
remark made in the Report is that ex~
cs pt where stated prices .are paid for
stated work . women never get as much
pay as men.

The problem that confronts us is this:
It is a most excellent thing for a girl to
earn money and become self-supporting;
she-is thus taught promptness, punctu-
alityﬁ self-reliance, economy, the value
of money. Against this, put the fact that
her competition lowers to the lowest
possible ﬁgure the wages of her sister,
whose earnings must cover not only her
own expenses, but provide for the needs
of one or more dependent upon her.
How can we strike a balance?

In this connection the following para-
graph, scissored from an exchange, is
amopos: ' > - ,

“ There are today more than 200,000
women in theU nited States earning a liv~
ing by professional and personal service
outside of mechanical labor or work in
the shops, in the practice of law and
medicine, the teaching of music and
art, literature and science, and in cleri-
cal work of different kinds in govern-
ment and other ofﬁcial places.”

BEl’l‘ith.

 

EASY WAYS,

 

In making apple butter I always
steam the apples and put them through
the colander, or mash them with the
potato masher. Add just enough boil-
ed older to make it the consistency of
pudding. I set the kettle on top of two
bricks and let the sauce simmer, giving
it a stir occasionally, till in the after-
noon, when my other work is done
and! have had a good hour’s rest, 1
take out half, reduce with older a
little thinner than it ought to be when
done; put on the stove again and cook
half an hour, put in the spices and it is
done. Repeat the process with the re-
mainder. It is a great deal better than
the old fashioned kind. It has one bad
fault—won’t keen except under lock
and key.

I tear up all my rags thoroughly,
shake and dust them, then oil up my
sewing machine and make an easy job
of it. I sewed seven and a quarter
pounds the other day in a little less
than ﬁve hours. You can sew from six
to eight pounds of ordinary rags in a

 

day when you get used to it. Double
your rags just the same as for hand—
sewing; put under the foot (do not raise
it), sew to the right then to the

left so you can push the rags under the?

arm of the machine. Keep shoving their.
in; don’t clip them till you get a pound or
more. If you have boys or girls they
can do the clipping and winding, or
you can leave them for some of those
disagreeable days. It will not hurt the
machine for it is easily cleaned, and
you will not be tired because when you
see how much you have accomplished
in one day and think you will no:
have to take up that rag basket every
time you sit down, you’ll feel rested in-
stead oi tired. You must start your
machine with your foot, as you need.
both your hands for the rags.

To those who use the old-fashioned
dash churn and hate to have it around
on account of its spattering everything
so I would say: Invest in a ﬁfteen Gem
lantern globe; put on your churn cover,
slip the globe over the handle, letting
it rest on the cover, then let it spatter.
You’ll probably say as Idid-—“Splendid
not a spatter on the floor, and what a
ninny not to have thought of it before?

QUEEllﬂY.

CHAT.

LOIS comes from Midland this new
weather to give us a bit of good counw
sel‘: “Keep faithfully the secret 01
your own home. Don’t tell your trou-
bles to your neighbors. Don’t ﬁnd fault
with your husband to anybody, not ever.»
to your own monher. The moment you
take your griefs outside your own dOOr
your invite the little demons of mis-
chief to spread your private affairs
through the whole community, and
make what should be securely sealed in
your own family circle the theme for
sneers and innuendo and spiteful sar-
casm or soulless pity.
‘family skeleton,‘ dress it caretully,
then double lock the closet door.

 

As showing a woman’s work for her
family—what just the cooking amounts
to in ayear, Mrs. W. E. 0., of Hills-
dale, writes this short summary of her
home bakery business in 1892 t “ I
have a family of eight to cook for, with
the usual extras in the way of hired
hands and company. During the year
I baked 580 loaves of wheat bread and 47
of brown bread, and biscuit for 35 meals.
I made 295 pics, 40 cakes and 23 loaves
of ginger-bread, 500 cookies and 780
fried cakes. I made johnny-cake for
13 meals and mufﬁns for nine, and chick-

en or meat pies twelve times. I cooked
40 bushels of potatoes during the year.
In addition, I put up 125 quarts of fruit,

made nine gallons of pickles, two gal-r

lons of catsup, and 30 glasses of jelly;
I also made ninety-seven garments and.

raised 198 chickens and turkeys. Per-~-

haps you think this was ‘my busy. year,‘
but I really thought I had things easy,
compared with what I have had to do

some years. I have ﬁve children. the

youngest ﬁve years old.”

If you have a.

 

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