
   

 

m a J~ﬂMarmmu-Mm

 

  
  
 

   

 

 

 

DETROIT, J'TJ' N E 8, 1888.

 

 

THE H OUSEHOLD-"Supplement.

 

 

THE GORE OF THE HOUSE.

The core of the hous ‘, the dearest place, he one
that we all love best,

Holding it close in our heart of hearts, for its
comfort and its rest,

Is nevr r the place where strangers come, nor
yet where friends are met,

Is never the stately drawing-room, where our
treasured t ings are set.

Oh, dearer far, as the time recedes in a dream of
colors dim, _

Breathing across our stormy moods like the
robe of a hymn,

Forever our own. and only on s. and pure as a
rose in bloom,

Is the centre and soul of the old home hes, the
mother‘s darling room.

We‘ﬂew to its arms when we rushed from school,
with a thousand things to tell;

Our mother was always waiting there, had the
day gone ill or well.

No other pillow was quite so cool, under an
aching head,

As soft- to our fevered childish cheek, as the
pillow on mother’s bed.

Sitting so safely at her feet, when the dewy
dusk drew high,

We watched for the angels to light the lamps in
the solemn evening sky.

'Tiny hands folded. there we knelt, to lisp the
nightly prayer,

Learning to cast on the Loving One early our
load of care.

Whatever the world has brought us since, yet,
pure as a rose in bloom,

1s tte thought we keep rf the core of the home,
the mother’s daring room.

'We think of it oft in the glare and heat of our
lift: time’s later day.

Around our steps when the wild spray beats,
and the mirk is gathering gray.

As once to the altar’s fact they ran whom the
menacing foe pursued.

We turn to the still and sacred place where a
foe may never intrude,

And there, in the hush of remembered hours,
our failing souls grow strong,

And gird themselves anew is r the fray, the battle
of right ard wrong,

Behind us ever the hallowed thought, as pure as
a rose in bloom,

0f the happiest place in all the earth, the
mother’s darling room.

We’ve not forgotten the fragrant sheaves of the
lilacs at the door,

Nor the 1 ddv r of sunbeams lying prone on the
shinin g morning ﬂoor.

We’ve not forgotten the robin‘s tap at the ever
friendly pane,

Nor the lilt of the little brook outside, trolling
i‘ s gay refrain.

How it t aunts us yet, in the tender hour of the
sunset‘s fading blush,

The vesper song, so silvery clear, of the hidden
hermit thrush 1

All sweetest of sound and scent is blent, when,
pure as a rose in bloom,

We think of the spot we loved best in life, the
mother’s darling room.

ﬁelding us close to our best in life, keeping us
back from sin,

 

Folding us yet to her faithful breast, oft as a
prize we win,

The mother who left us here alone to battle with
care and strife

Is the guardian angel who lea ’3 us on to the
fruit of the tree of life.

Her smile fr m the heights we hope to gain is an
ever beckoning lure;

We watch her look when our pulses faint, nerv-
ing us to endure.

Others may dwell where once she dwelt, and
the home be ours no more,

But the th' ught of her is a sacred spell, never
its magic o‘er.

We‘re truer and stronger and braver yet, that,
pure as a rose in bloom,

Back of all struggle, a heart of peace, is the.
mother’s darling room.
—J[argaret E. Sangster, in Harper’s Bazar.

....__—...—-—-

THE THOMAS CON CERT.

 

I have had a great admiration for The-
odore Thomas ever since the ﬁrst time I
heard his unrivaled orchestra, some fourteen
years ago, when I rode fourteen miles in
the dull gray twilight of a November after-
noon, and fourteen miles home again
through the frosty night, for the sake of
listening once more to some really ﬁne
music. So of course 1 was one of the three
thousand music-loving individuals who in-
vested in tickets for his concert, given here
the evening of Memorial Day. And too 1
was one of the unfortunate thousand
“caught in the jam” before the doors
of the Light Guard Armory—a jam that
blocked the sidewalk and street with a solid
mass of humanity, humanity that could
not lift a hand. or take a step, but was
borne, a resistless current, up to the narrow
doors through which ticket holders had to
pass, as Noah packed the animals into the
Ark, “two by two.” Preserve me from
another such crowd! Dainty toilettes were
crushed, corsage bouquets ruthlessly pre-
pared for a hortus siccus. elbows were
worn in one‘s neighbor’s ribs, and the re-
cording angel, if he ever got into a tight
place himself, will surely forgive the sup-
pressed “swear words” when one's pet
corn was trod upon. Woe to the man or
woman who dropped an article; you could
not stoop to pick it up any more than if you
were in the clasp of the iron arms of The
Maiden of inquisitorial times; woe to
the woman whose furbelows and fripperies
were not sewed tight; she saw them never
more. '

But at last the resistless force behind
pushed us in time through the doors, and
ﬁnding our seats we had some time to re-
cover from the squeezing to which we had
been su‘jected before the leader put his
patent leather toes upon the wooden box

 

 

before his stand and with his back to the
audience, assumed the baton. Mr. Thomas
has gained some grey hairs since fourteen
years, and the bald spot on his cranium is
worn larger. Otherwise, he is the same
quiet, unassuming director, the best in-
terpreter of Wagnerian music in this
country. And the opening movement was
Wagner’s “Tahnhauser,” the ﬁrst low
notes of which scarcely for a moment arrest-
ed the murmur of voices and the ﬂutter of
fans. What words are adequate to describe
music, its charm, its meaning, its effect
upon us? You listen to the perfect har-
mony, the exam unison, the concord of
sound, the tones of each of these sixty in-
struments Mending to produce the effect of
one grand unknown instrument, 8o subor-
dinated to each nther that you can hardly
distinguish one from another, and are con-
tent just to let the melody ﬁll your ears and
still all other senses into the one delight of
hearing. i thought of the art—the genius~
of the great composer, whose brain arranged
this harmony so that each part might swell
the perfect whole, writing each score and
hearing its effect with the others, and it
seemed an almost God-like attribute to
thus be able to unite and harmonize such
exquisite sounds.

Miss Emma Juch was the soloist of the
evening, singing for her ﬁrst number “ Die
stille Nacht,” from Spobr’s “ Faust.” Miss
J uch has a reputation for being a very ﬁne
singer; perhaps you will like to know how
she looked. She is ablonde of generous
proportions, ﬁne looking, with light hair
very simply arranged at the back of her
shapely head, and the customary short,
ﬂuffy bangs in front. Diamond studs
twinkled in her little ears; she wore a pale
blue satin with lace drapery in front, en
trains, decollette corsage bordered with
pearl passementerie and lace, and a cluster
of white flowers for a breast knot. Opinions
differ; I heard one person say, “ What
lovely arms!” another said; “ What arms!
they look like a washwoman’s!” But they
were in proportion to her ﬁgure; and cer-
tainly whatever else they were they were
not red—judicious use of powder prevented
that. An enthusiastic encore brought her
back to sing “Du bist wie eine Blume”
with accompaniment on the harp; and her
second number, an aria, “ Reine de Saba”,
was so well received that her repeated bows
to the audience only strengthened their de-
termination to hear her again, and Thomas,
who stood at one side waiting for the
applause to subside that he might go on
with the programme, and pulling his
moustache so vigorously that I’m certain he


2 THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

found it one-sided next morning, gave it
one vicious farewell tug and hastened “ be-
hind the scenes,” returning with the smiling
diva, whose reception certainly was suf-
ﬁciently hearty to excite pardonable vanity.
She sang Gounod’s “Ave Marie,” which
was really the most beautiful Of her songs.

I liked particularly a theme and varia-
tions in which the bass-vials gave the theme,
and some unique variations followed by the
other instruments; in all, the melody ran
like a silver thread through a chain of beads,
ﬂashing out a moment, and caught up and
varied again and again. Now it was the
deep, stately, solemn music of an organ,
throwing out its swelling waves of sound,
again a rippling hail of high notes from the
violins, now the martial ring that stirred
one’s blood and thrilled the pulses like
wine.

And my wish—one wish—has been grati-
fied; I have heard the Thomas orchestra
play dance music. One of the four move-
ments of a Serenade was a waltz, one of
the sweetest things in rhythmic melody,
an airy. lilting strain that made you think of
butterﬂies over a June meadow; the only
rouble was, there was not half enough of
it, and the measure changed into the merry
music of marching feet. Then Liszt’s
Hungarian Rhapsody, which no pen can
describe, least of all mine, closed the con-
cert, and Theodore dropped his baton and
disappeared in a twinkling, with the mem-
bers oi the orchestra a good second, and
the audience leisurely departed. We,
desirous to avoid a second skirmish in the
crowd, made for the side entrance, past the
yawning musicians, who were chattering
German like magpies as they packed away
their instruments in great padded and
cushioned trunks and boxes, out into the
alley where we tumbled oﬁ‘ a high step in
the dark, and whisked round three or four
corners, and up past the City Hall clock
which said “ Ten minutes to eleven, you’ll
be sleepy to marrow.” and home to dream
all those divine melodies over again.

BEATRIX.
———‘..—_——.

TEE TYRANNY OF FASHION.

 

Fashion kills more women than toil and
sorrow. Obedience to iashion is a greater
trangression of the law of woman’s nature,
a greater injury to her phyi ical and mental
constitution, than the hardships of poverty
and neglect. The slave woman at her task
would live to grow old and see two or
three generations of her mistresses fade
and pass away. The washwoman with
scarce a ray of hope to cheer her in her toil,
will live to see her fashionable sisters die
all around her. The kitchen maid is hearty
and strong, when her lady has to be nursed
like a sick baby. It is a sad truth that
fashion-pampered women are almost worth-
less for all the good ends of human life.
They have but little force of character; they
have still less power of moral will and quite
as little physical energy. They live for no
great purpose in life, they accomplish no
worthy one. They are only doll forms in
the hands of milliners and servants to be
dressed and fed. They dress nobody; they
feed nobody; they instruct nobody; they
bless nobody. They write no books; they
set no example of virtue and womanly life.

If they rear children the latter are left to
the care of servants and nurses. And
when reared what are the children? What
do they ever amount to but weak scions of
the old stock? Who ever heard of a fash-
ionable woman’s child exhibiting any virtue
or power of mind for which it became emi-
nent? Read the biographies of our great
and good men; not one of them had a fash-
ionable mother. They nearly all spring
from strong-minded women, who had as
little to do with fashion as the changing
clouds.

An indolent country gentleman had a
freehold estate producing about ﬁve hun-
dred a year. Becoming involved in debt
he sold halt the estate and let the remainder
to an industrious farmer for twenty years.
About the end of the time the farmer called
to pay his rent, and asked the owner
whether he would sell the farm. “Will
you buy it?” asked the owner, surprised.
“ Yes, if we can agree about the price.”
“That is exceedingly strange,” observed
the gentleman, “ Pray tell me how it hap-
pens that while I could uot live upon twice
as much land for which I paid no rent, you
are regularly paying me two hundred a
year for your farm and are able in a few
years to purchase it?” “ The reason is
plain,” was the reply. “You sat still and
said Go; I was up and said Come; you laid
in bed and enjoyed your estate; 1 rose in
the morning and minded my business.”
Some take no thought of the v due of money
until they have come to an end of it, and
many do the same with their time. The
hours are allowed to ﬂow by unemployed,
and then when life is fast waning they
bethink themselves of the duty of making a
wiser use of it. But the habits of listless-
ness and idleness may already have become
conﬁrmed, and they are unable to break the
chains with which they have become bound.
Lost wealth may be replaced by industry,
lost knowledge by study, lost health by
temperance or medicine, but lost time is
gone forever. SEW.

HARTFORD.

 

POLITICS.

Politics in the HOUSEHOLD! Now is not
that too bad! on I know I’m a back-
slider and am aware that I have not done
my duty in neglecting to write oftener, but
the little paper kept coming so true and
good that I knew I was not missed, but
when I saw Tecumseh’s article on the
presidents’ wives, and heard the following
expression: “No woman wrote that. It
is just put in as a boom for Alger; and
Cleveland did not need a wife to be elected
four years ago, and will not require her aid
now,” I could not forbear putting in a
plea against party discussions in our little
paper. We know where there is politics
there can be no harmony, especially during
such a campaign as is opening up this
summer. We cannot all think alike or be
in favor of the same candidate, and as there
are so many papers and other means of
arguing these things. I beg our Editor not to
pollute our women’s sheet with anything
disagmeable. If we were allowed to help
choose these men perhaps we would feel
differently, but as we cannot, let us work at

 

questions which woman can handle, and in

 

which she is steadily making progress in
spite of the difﬁculties she has ».,to labor

under. The leading questions of the day‘

can and have been discussed without much
dissension, and it is proper andright to do
so, but when we try to nominate ofﬁcers
through these columns we are “ getting Off
our goal” as the boys say.

I do not think there can be perfect har-
mony in any society if the members talk
or lecture on politics; for instance our
grange in this section, although prospering
in a small way, might have been a success it
they had not allowed political questions to
be discussed. I have heard argreat many
say that they would have supported and
liked the grange if they had lived .up to the
rules and worked for agricultural interests
only, but when the lectures became more
political than agricultural, dissatisfaction
reigned and the consequence was one party
ruled, the other retired, the grange store
failed, and the middlemen got their custom
just as they did before the institution was
organized. Those who have stood by it
have a good sociable time once in a while,
but it is far short of the great good it was
intended to do.

Bruneﬁlle’s “Woman Question” was
good, and I think woman can do a great
deal of good in small ways toward making
moral laws if she has any chance, and the
time is coming when she will have a voice
in making laws; and when we get certain
rights let us hope we will know how. to use
them. I have always said there was only
one subj.ct that I would care much about
voting upon and that is the liquor question;
if women could vote on that they would ﬁnd
some way of annihilating the traﬁic, and 1
think it is because there are so many
moderate drinkers at the helm that women
and temperance have to take aback seat.
It is thought by many that the" moderate

‘drinker does more harm than the low

inebriate, for young men will. ape the
former, while they turn with disgust from
the latter; and their ﬁrst glass is often
drank because distinguished Mr. —— asked
them, and it was too much of an honor to
refuse. But I must close or some one will
say “She is a prohibitionist,” hence is
bringing partyism into the HOUSEHOLD.
VICKSBURG. C. B. R.
[The article, “A Boom for a Michigan
Sister,” to which 0. B. R. alludes above,
was “ written by a. woman ” and one of our
Oldest contributors, who simply appeared
under a nom-de-plume instead of her own
name as heretofore. Nor was it intended

asa “boom for Alger,” who is certainly.

getting all the “ boom” his most eXacting
friends could ask, but simply as illustrative
of the types of womanhood who might be
called upon to ﬁll the position of “ ﬁrst lady
in the land” and their peculiar ﬁtness for
the place. We desire to avoid all party dis-
cussions in the HOUSEHOLD, believing,
with C. B. R., that discussions on political
or sectarian subjects in a paper are des-
tructive of harmony, since each eager de-
bater can see only from her individual
standpoint, and of course can ﬁnd neither

logic nor reason in anything which con-
troverts her argument, while those not in-
terested vote the whole thing a bore. We
intend to exclude radical articles on all

topics, that 18, those which are manifestly _

partizan and prejudiced. 1

 

,. rams»; stat MWW. A

 

...n-__-__A-_AArn~m‘nHHh—Pv

 


 

 

  

THE HOUSEHOLD.

   

3

 

THE CHURCHES OF NEW ORLEANS.

 

In New Orleans there are about one
hundred and ﬁfty churches. The French,
Italian. Spanish and lrish are mostly
Roman Catholic. There are thirty-six
Roman Catholic churches. The Jesuit is
the most central. One ﬁne Sunday we went
there. I think it is the ﬁnest church 1 was
ever in; not as large as many others, but
richly furnished. The windows are of
stained glass, each picture of some Bible
character; one represented Jesus on the
cross. The oldest and largest church is the
old cathedral near the French market,
opposite Jackson square; it has aclock, very
tall steeple, high iron fence and double
gates which are locked when the church is
closed; seats in the cathedral are free for
ﬁve cents, the ﬂoor is of stone painted in
squares of gray and white. All the worship-
ers as they entered would drop on one
knee or both, cross themselves and mur-
mur a prayer. There must have been some
sacriﬁce in kneeling on that stone ﬂoor
twenty minutes or more. 1 could not help
making observations; while the elegantly
dressed, those of high bearing app irently,
knelt, their heads erect, eyes watching the
stranger, the poor and thinly clad, those
in more humble station, bowed their heads
with closed eyes in humility. We chanced
to be down to the French market on
Good Friday and stepped in with the
silent throng. At the entrance just within
the great doors was a little table on which
lay a small image of the Savior. also a box
to receive contributions, on this box lay a
bunch of flowers, perhaps the offering of
some poor widow who had not even one
mite, who can tell but this may have been
more acceptable than the silver and gold of
the rich and proud. Before this table sat
three small boys dressed in white, one at-
tended to the box, the other two took turns
in wiping off the image with a small white
handkerchief after every one kissed it. I
observed how the rich, haughty woman
would try to kiss some spot she thought
another’s lips beneath her had not touched,
the arm or the hand; most kissed the feet
or head.

Through Lent all the Catholic churches
are open every day; at any hour you might
see all classes enter, perform their holy
vows, consecrate themselves anew, kiss the
image of Christ, and bow before the Virgin
Mary. .Daily we passed St. Patrick’s church
on Camp street, built of gray stone, gloomy
looking without as well as within. Candles
were burning at the altar, at one side as you
enter stands a font of holy water.

Next in number are the Baptist churches,
twenty—ﬁve in number, the Methodists nine,
Presbyterians twelve. The largest is on
Camp St., Dr. Palmer has been their
pastor nearly 30 years. We heard him
several times; he is an unassuming and
kind looking person, called very eloquent
in his sermons. We attended the colored
church to hear Moody and Smkey; there
being a small attendance Mr. Sankey could
not sing. he was used to a crowded house.
He sang the “ Ninety and Nine” and one
other piece; Moody talked alittle extempore,
very short, then while the congregation

 

were singing he invited the sinners to come

around the mercy-seat, called on a “ collud
brudder” to pray, then during prayer
Messrs. Moody and Sankey left the house
unobserved and sought their elegant apart-
ments at the St. Charles; not much like our
Savior, the great example. I must say I
was Very disappointed in these renowned
men I had heard were such lovers of souls.

There are six Hebrew synagogues; one
small Greek church, its one prototype in
the world is said to be in Alaska. This re-
minds me of a beautiful souvenir of the old
church of Shandon, Cork, a piece of ex-
quisite workmanship in pure silver and
gold. This was on exhibition at the World’s
Industrial Exposition at New Orleans. This
ancient church of Ireland is immortalized
in the beautiful poem by Francis Mahoney,
sometimes called “ Father Prout.”
encyclopaedia says: “ He was educated at
the Jesuit College in Paris and at Rome
where he entered the priesthood of the
Roman Catholic church. Not ﬁnding em-
ployment in his profession he went-to Lon-
don ann devoted himself to literature and
journalism, contributing to Fraser’s Maga-
zine and the Daily News. He lived in
Paris many years as correspondent of the
London Globe, but in 1864 he entered a
monastery, where he spent the last years of
his life.” Such is a brief history of the
author of the poem, “Bells of Shandon.”
With the Editor’s consent I quote for you
the poem: .

BELLS 0F SHANDON.
W;th deep affection
And recollection
I often think of
Those Sha'ldon Bells,
Whose sound so wild would,
In the days of childhood.
Fling round my cradle
Their magic spells.
On this [ponder
Where’ev I wander,
And thus grow fonder,
Sweet Cork, of thee—
With thy Bells 0! Shandon,
That sound so grand on

The pleasant waters
Of the river Lee.

I’ve heard bells chiming
Fu 1 many a c ime in,
Tolling sublime «n

l athedral shrine
While at a glib rate,
Brass tongues would vibrate;
But all their mus c

S poke naught like thine.
For memory dWelling
Ou e ch proud swelling
Of thy belfry. knelling

its bold notes free,
Made the bells of Shandon
Sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters

or the river Lee.

I’ve heard bells tolling
Old Adrian‘s Mole in,
Their thunder rOIling
From tne V tican—
And cymba s glorious
Swinging upmarious
In the g .rgeous turrets
or N 0 re name;
But thy s un-ls were sweeter
Than the dome of Peter
Flings o’er the Tiber,
Foaling solemnly.
Oh! the bells of handon
Sound far mOie grand on
The pleasant ts aters
0f the river Lee.

There's a bell in Moscow;
While on tower and kiosk oh
In saint Sophia
The Turkman gets.
And loud in air
Calls in n to prayer,
From the tapeling summit
0f tall minarets.
Such empty phantom
1 fleely giant them;
But here's an anthem
More dear to me—
'Tie the bells of shandon
That sound so grand on
' The ple saut .. aters
0f the rive - Lee.

The ‘

ﬁ

cussion about bells is thus concluded:
“ There’s nothing after all like the associa-
tions which our early infancy attaches to
the well-known and long-remembered
chimes of our parish steeple; and no music
can equal on our ears when returning after
long absence in foreign. and perhaps hap-
pier countries—The Bells of Shandon.”
M. E. H.

-—-—-—-———.w—-

WALL PAPERS.

 

The question of styles in paper and paint
for the various rooms of a house is one often
considered with perplexity by the country
housekeeper, who can seldom procure
the patterns and friezes (the present name
for what were once called “ borders ”) she
feels are suitable and appropriate, at the
village store where she must purchase her
supplies. The present choice in wall paper
is a light groundwork, covered with rather
large, indistinct ﬁgures in a deeper tone of
the same color, or a harmonious one, very
probably with lines of pale gilt running
through it; a deep frieze harmonizing with
it, and a ceiling in a soft tone of the same
shade with gilt ﬁgures. Thus a room may
have on its side walls a paper having the
faintest green tinge for ground, and on
it acanthus leaves in a second shade, out.
lined by lines of pale gold. The 18-inch
frieze shades from a medium shade of green
at the upper edge to a pale tint at the

. lower, and its pattern also is the acanthus,

but deepened in tone and boldly outlined
by heavy lines of yellow gold. The picture
rail is placed at the union of frieze and
wall paper. The ceiling is covered with a
paper of the general tone of the walls,
sprinkled irregularly with golden stars. For
the border meeting the side walls, a di-
agonal, diamond-shaped pattern in green
and gold is used, and a narrow pattern of
acanthus leaves divides it from the solid ceil-
ing. The woodwork in such a room should
be painted just one shade darker than the
deepest tone in the pattern of the side
walls; the chandelier, should there be one.
must be treated to a green vestment, picked
outwith gold. The same scheme of color
can be repeated in blue, pink or buff, with
most charming results. Where wall paper
and frieze and ceiling paper cannot befound
which are thus made to correspond, the
housekeeper must study and compare the
material which is available, and do the best
she can with it. Dados have gone out of -
style; they were an excess of ornamenta-
tion; indeed, all walls and ceilings are
treated much more simply than a couple of
years ago, and it is alleged this is due to
the fact that saloons and bar-rooms were so
brilliantly decorated as to bring about a
reaction.

White and gold papers are largely used
for parlors, and also the yellow or creamy.
with gold ﬁgures. These correspond with
the prevalent fancy for white and gold fur-
niture, a “fad” as yet conﬁned to large
cities. Solid colored papers are still fash-
ionable, they form an excellent background
for pictures, and are liked for halls.

Ladies who followed the craze for stained
and waxed ﬂoors, with large rugs for the
centre, are now covering them with carpets.

 

In the “Reliques of Father Prout ” a dis-

    

The solid colored carpet—“ﬁlling,” the
carpet dealers call it—is used to cover, the


4 . THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

 

margin and the rug is still retained. It was
found the labor of caring for the margin of
stained ﬂoor, or the waxing, was as great as
that of a carpeted room, since dust had a
way of gathering on the bare portions, re-
quiring a daily wiping up with a wet cloth.

This “ﬁlling” is found in dull red, old
blue, and brown, and comes in admirably to
piece out. an old carpet. or carpet stairs.

The reign of the “ tidy ” is over; the lam-
brequin, we are told must go. The white
marble mantles and tables, so long covered
with draperies,are now revealed as “the
mode” again. Rods for lace window
draperies are brass or bronze, and the cur-
tains tied back with ribbons or left to hang
straight. Ecru and sage green Holland
shades are used in all rooms; the present
fancy is to have them perfectly plain, the
only adornment permissible being the nar-
row fringe or edge of antique lace across the
bottom.

———§..—.—————

THOSE STRAWBERRIES.

As the time for canning strawberries is
at hand again, I will say for the beneﬁt of
those interested that my experiments in the
canning of that delicious fruit last year were
in every instance perfectly planned, in-
somuch that I have proven beyond a
doubt to my own palate at least, also to
that of many others, that the strawberry is
nomorediﬂicult to keep than other fruit,
and that it- can. be canned without sugar,
retaining its ﬂavor, color and individual-
berryness better than when swaddled and
smothered in a rank and sickish smudge of
sugar.

The requirements are ﬁrst, fruit fully
ripe, and second, fresh from the vines. in
no instance was it more than four hours
from the time the fruit was pi~ked until it
was in the cans, and 1 always got fruit that
was picked early in the morning. It was.
as soon as it arrived here, placed in a
colander and cold water fresh from the well
carefully but copiously poured over it to re-
move the possible sand or dirt. then care-
fully hulled and anything that gave hint of
unsoundness in any way removed: when
thus prepared placed in a granite ware ket-
tle, and with the aid of. the gasoline stove
very quickly cooked, canned and left on the
pantry shelf to cool. I canned with no
sugar, with little and with much. 1 canned
those 'that were over ripe, fully ripe and
rather green. 1 cooked much, little. less
and more, only observing the ﬁrst and
second speciﬁcations every time. Also one
more rule is to be observed. The cans,
rubbers and tops must be perfect in every
way, and every thing must be boiling but
when the fruit is put in the cans and sealed.
I have not lost a berry. 'lhose canned
without sugar suit my taste best. When I
open a can I take about a teacupful of the
juice, put with it a cupful of ﬁne granulated
sugar, set it on the stove, usually on the
back part of the coal stove, where it will
heat gradually, stirring often, and as soon
as the sugar is fully dissolved pour this
over the fruit in the comporte. And I assure
you 1 have something that is good to eat.

And I will here say that this is the gen-
eral formula by which I can all fruits,
rarely using sugar at the canning, and 1 do
not average to lose one can per year by for-

 

mentation or mould, or “ spoiling;” which
things are the result not of a lack of sugar
as some seem to think, but of unsound or
partially fermented fruit at the time of
canning, or of defective cans, tops, rub-
bers or cooking or canning. Also, glass
cans of fruit should be kept from light and
draughts of hot or cold air.

In this section the ﬁrst setting of straw-
berries was frozen. If the second is not it
is not because it has been so warm, for a
colder spring never was, 1 trow, since
Paradise hung her snnbonnet on the North
Pole, while she danced with her fairies in
the fragrance and ﬂowers that surrounded
it. Yes, it is J one, and many a coal stove
has not yet been a cold stove this spring.
The weather steward is getting this thing
considerably mixed. E. L. NYE.

FLINT.
—-——-—.O.—-——

“GATHER YE. ROSES WHILE YE
MAY.”

June is the month of roses, and whoever
has a garden-ful of these fragrant ﬂowers
can, if she will take the trouble, preserve
some of their perfume for December’s
snows, and make herself independent of
the gross, alcoholic extracts of the perfumer.
Gather the leaves of full-blown fragrant
roses, spread them to dry, and turn and stir
them daily; keep each day’s gathering by
itself : when dry pack them into a jar with
a cover, and when perfumed air is desired,
shake the jar and open it an hour or so.
Fill a linen slip with the dried leaves, and
over it put a cover decorated with rose
designs, and you have a fragrant pillow for
the sofa. Tincture of roses is made by
crowding the leaves into a wide mouthed
bottle and ﬁlling up with spirits of wine;
let stand a month—tightly corked—before
using. Put the fresh leaves in a jar in
layers, sprinkling each layer with ﬁne salt;
when the jar is full, sprinkle with pure
cider or white wine vinegar, and cork. This
jar when opened will ﬁll a room with a faint
rose scent, and in a drawer or wardrobe
will perfume everything in it. A delicate
paste for ﬂavoring cake is made by chop-
ping fresh leaves with sugar into a smooth
mass, one cup of roseleaves to three cups of
sugar. This must be kept in an air tight
receptacle, and is ﬁt for use six months
after making. A very small portion will
ﬂavor alarge came—Harper a Bazar.

 

A LITTLE GOOD COUNSEL.

 

I read the other day the following advice:
“If you once get a dress that ﬁts you,
never throw or give it away. Rip the waist
when it is worn out, and carefully cut and
keep the pattern.” You will have your
labor for your pains if. you do. I tried it,
not once but twice, and am willing to put
myself on record as convinced that the pat-
tern will not have the most remote likeness
to the ﬁt of the original when it was new.
Why should it? It has been pulled and
stretched out of shape, and you will dis-
cover you cannot cut a good pattern of it.
If you must secure a pattern in that way,
rip up the waist while it is new, cut your
pattern, and put it together again. A still
easier way is to hire a good dressmaker to
cut and ﬁt a corset-cover, and before the
seams are sewed run them over with a

 

tracing-wheel, then rip up the bastings,
cut your pattern, and put it together again
exactly as at ﬁrst, which you can easily do
by means of the marks made by the tracing
wheel.

I always feel perfectly safe about my furs
when I put them up myself. And it is not
very much trouble. I shake and beat them
well, brush out the boxes, put invthe furs,
and paste strips of paper ové‘rthe cracks be-
tween “cover and box. See to it that the
boxes are perfectly whole; no breaks, no
matter how small. I always put them away
early, before the moths are out; there is
less danger. Moths do not like linen, so I
fold my blankets and pin them up in linen
sheets; then these are wrapped in news-
papers, and the edges pasted together.
Small articles. like nubias. caps, wool mit-
tens and hose, are put into strong manilla
bags, the edges pasted, and the list of the
contents written on the outside.

The lady who recently inquired about the
cost of mattings, etc.. is respectfully mcom-
mended to wait till the butter and egg
money accumulates and buy a good ingrain.
There is more wear in it than in a good deal
of matting, even the best. L. 0.

Burton.
_——..._————

HOUSEHOLD HINTS.

DON'T use a rag for a dishcloth. A yard
of cheap crash, costing ten cents, will make
two just the right size; hem them and see
that they are washed as regularly as the
dishtowels.

 

To remove soiled paper from walls, wet
them with hot water; in a few moments
the paper can he pulled off in large strips
and pieces. if it sticks in spots, wet again,
wait a few moments and try once more.

IN putting paper upon walls, a white-
wash brush without a handle will be found
an excellent thing to apply the paste to the
paper with; and an old clothesbrush, es-
pecially if it is a pretty stiff one, is better
than a cloth to smooth the paper after it is
applied to the walls.

 

VERY few country people use tropical
fruits upon the table as sauce; the fruit is
expensive in the inland towns and is a rare
treat bought principally for the children.
But sliced bananas and grated pineapple
form a most delicious dish for the tea-table,
one high in favor with townspeople who
have to buy canned goods for sauce.

~———-—-—-«.——-—-

Food for the Sick

 

CREAM Toners-Cut the crust from a slice
of stale bread. Toast slowly till delicately
brown. Dip into boiling water: spread with
the sweetest and freshest of butter, and pour
over it a couple of tatlespoonfuls of boiling
cream.

Benn Sannwrcnns.—Chop tender raw beef-
steak very ﬁne, season with salt and pepper,
and spread between thin slices of buttered
bread from which you have cut the crusts.
These are excellent for persons who have
dyspepsia, or are troubled with indigestion.

 

Germanium-Stir half a cupful of cereiline
ﬂakes into a kettle of boiling milk, salt dell.
cately, and serve with cream and powdered

sugar.

 

    

  

 

 

 

  

 
 
 

      

