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DETROIT, MAY &, 1889.

 

THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplernent.

 

 

REUOHPRNSE'.

Straight through my heart this fact to-day
By truth‘s own ha id is driven;

God never takes one thing away,
But something else is given.

I did not know in, earlier years
This law of love and kindness;

But without hope, through bitter tears,
I mourned in sorrow’s blindness.

And ever following each regret
For some departed treasure,

My sad repining heart was met
With unexpected pleasure.

I thought it only happened so,
But time this truth has taught me:
No least thing from my life can go,
But something else :' 5 brought me.

It is the law complete, sublime,
And now with faith unshaken,

In patience I but bide my time,
When any joy is taken.

No matter if the crushing blow
May for the moment down me;
Still back of it waits Love, I know,
With some new gift to crown me.
—l! lla Wheeler Wilcox.

——-—--«O-——-———

A SUNDAY’S OUTING.

“ I shall expect you next Saturday. ‘ The
preparations are all prepared;’ don’t fail
me.” Such was the imperative message
which I received one April afternoon
from Mrs. Thomas Langley, of Green-
ﬁeld, better known to our HOUSEHOLD
people as “A. .L. L.” of Ingleside.
Wasn’t it cute of her? She knows I dis-
like to disappoint people in their expecta-
tions of me, hence she was sure I would
accept her invitation. To make assurance
doubly sure, the laconic answer “ Dinner
for three on Saturday ” was sent, and I was
on hand promptly to help eat it. I’m not
going to tell what we talked about that
quiet afternoon, while the rain fell gently
outside. turning the grass of the velvety
lawns to a deeper emerald, and brightening
the arbor vitae hedge, the unbroken wall of
green which is the pride of Mr. Langley’s
heart; nor how my hostess waxed a triﬂe
sarcastic in tone as, looking at the sewing
which lay in my lap, and on which I had
not even threaded a needle, she said, “ I’m
so glad you brought you r work!”

I have described “ Ingleside ” and its at-
tractions several times in these columns iso
this time I wish to tell about a visit paid
Sunday afternoon to Senator Palmer’s
famous “ Log Cabin,” of which nearly
everybody in the State and many out of it
have heard, and which is located several
miles from Mr. Langley’s residence. The

 

extensive stock barns on the Palmer farm
area decided landmark, and the visitor
enters the grounds through a gate always
hospitably open, and drives down several
farm lanes to a piece of woodland, through
which six or seven miles of winding road
have been cut, shady avenues whose quiet
and seclusion must be delightful in J une’s
perfect days, or when the foliage is painted
in October tints. Rustic bridges here and
there cross the track of a rill, so slight a
silver thread as to make one half believe it
but a pretense for a picturesque bridge.
Taking the most direct road, we have soon
a glimpse of the log house, a smoothed out
and sand-papered imitation of the settlers
cabin of pioneer days, and withal a most
charming one. It stands on a grassy
eminence, a perfectly kept lawn sloping
away from it on all sides; an artiﬁcial lake—
island studded—in front, beyond, pastures
ankle-deep in lush grass, the belt of woods
land we have just passed through at the
left. At each end of the house is a chim-
ney, built outside, of logs, as one sees
them in the pictures of pioneer houses, so
built because, like that of the Arkansas
cabin of the story, it was so big that either
the family or the chimney had to go out
side. These chimneys make very com-
modious closets in the interior arrange-
ment. There isa “ lean-t0”—the kitchen,
after the approved fashion of early days;
and the rain water barrel at the corner of
the house is not forgotten, nor the keg of
cider with a bottle in the bunghole, slowly
acidulating in the sunshine. The steep
decline to the shores of the little lake,
which is stocked with carp, is planted to
young forest trees of many varieties, a
majority of which were brought from Mr.
Palmer’s old home in Connecticut, as was
also a carload of rocks, now arranged along
the water’s edge and upon the islands.
Beyond the house is a miniature waterfall,
“ Cottrell’s Cascade,” where the water
ripples and plashes over the stones, falling
into a little basin and then tumbling heads
long into the little lake. Among the stones
are planted native ferns; their fronds were
appearing and promise later to make the
spot very pretty indeed.

We were so fortunate as to meet Mr. and
Mrs. E. W. Cottrell en route, and )Ir.
Cottrell being manager of the farm, through
his courtesy had the unexpected pleasure
of a peep into the interior of this unique
residence. The entrance is on the centre
of the side, through massive oaken doors
divided horizontally—a fashion which pre-
vailed in the days when every man’s house

 

was his fort as Well as his a} ,S'lz'-—-‘Llltl into
aZhall where after one swift deem.- which
cmnprehended thegeneu-l Him-t. the first
thing one noticed Wm; l 11» head—a
“ stag of ten," so large llli hr nrhﬁwg antler.

This wide hall divides the lam-r i' :rt of the
house into two large rooms. which are
ﬁlled with antique furniture, consisting al-
most entirely of family relics. In the
centre of the hall is an old-fashioned
square stove—made without a rivet, the
parts being lapped and joined—set in a
shallow, sawdust-tilled box. The ceiling
is festooned with strings of dried apples,
pumpkins, gourds, tresses of corn and
bunches of herbs and grasses. Over the
hardwood ﬂooris laid the unambitious rag
carpet; the spinning wheel and the ﬂux
wheel are there also; all the furnishings are
quaint and old fashioned; the candlesticks,
the ancient lantern which serves as a hall
lamp, everything has a history. There is a
cabinet ﬁlled with mementoes of the past,
the glass doors of which are made of win-
dow sash from the old homestead, tiny
panes deeply set in wooden framework.
Eyes long since shut beneath

“ _ that low green tent
Whose curtam never outward swicgs ”

once stole a last fond glance at the queued
and powdered lover as he rode away, or
watched through blinding rain of tears the
sable train that bore away the beloved
dead. So goes the world, and we remember
man in his pride and power is more perish-
able than his handiwork.

The carved oaken staircase is opposite the
entrance; on the landing stands the old
“ grandfather’s clock," built into the wall
of the old house in the Nutmeg State, and
rescued from the rubbish and cobwebs of
an attic.

“ Half way up the stairs it stands
And pomts and beckons with its hands."

It ticked off almost a century, and now
is respected and esteemed in its old age and
decrepitude. There are four sleeping apart-
ments up stairs, equipped with imposing
four-post bedsteads, like those I can re-
member seeing in my girlhood. and which
came from “down cast,” but which the
iconoclastic spirit of progress long since
ordered ignominiously sawed up for ﬁre-
wood. Therc were “valent-es" of “cur-
tain calico,” and apoplectic feather beds
tucked up in patchwork quilts. one of
which in particular, was a marvel of needle-
work in its ﬁne quilting; antique “chests
of draws " and spindle-legged wash stands,
on one of which was placed what I took to
be a tinderbox, and a little squat candle
stick with a wax candle in it. An ancient

 
          
     
  
     
     
   
   
    
   
  
     
    
   
   
  
  
 
  
    
  
   
    
    
  
 
   
 
   
  
   
   
  
    
    
    
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
    
  
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
  
         
      
     

 

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2 THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

weapon known as a horse pistol, I think,
was a formidable alfair, and if by chance it
missed ﬁre, one had but to throw it at his
assailant and it would prove more decidedly
effective—if it hit him.

Space forbids mention of the many
curious and interesting mementoes of the
families of Senator and Mrs. Palmer which
have been collected and thus ﬁttingly
housed. The lover of “ the good old days"
can contrast the utensils of the past with
those of the present and strike a balance in
favor of his prejudices, while those ac-
customed only to what we call “modern
conveniences” will study these evidences
of the ways of the world eighty or a hun-
dred years ago, these samples of what a past
generation prized as beautiful or useful or
ornamental, with an awakened interest.

The new minister to Spain leaves behind
his “log cabin,” a charming residence on
our most beautiful avenue, his Percherons
and Jerseys and all his “ agricultural in-
terests." What wonder that he says:
“Don’t congratulate me; I don’t want to
go!” BEATRIX.

-——-—4..———

ABOUT DRESSMAKING.

 

These fair days of spring turn my
thoughts to garden making and bilin’ soap,
with longings for other antiquated things
out of reach because they vanished with the
years to which they belonged. I wish that
one of the Beckys or Mary J anes of my
mother’s day, who came early in the morn-
ing with a green or black delaine dress, a
change of clean calico and plenty of aprons,
and who called mother familiarly Sarah
Ann and father Henry, who took hold with
a will and seemed to enjoy work, would
answer my advertisements for “ help.”
Alas! common sense is not more plentiful
in a large city than elsewhere. A good
cook for rent is not among existing things.
I am persuaded that not one person out of a
hundred who advertises for work is worth
their board. Skill has no need of newspaper
columns. This conclusion is the result of
wide observation emphasized by recent ex-
periments. If you want a thing done ac-
cording to your own ideas, do it yourself.
If you are not able, then pray for patience
to bear botches. I will not repeat the stale
servant girl story of the little maid who ado
vertised for light housework and “ go home
at nights.” By having breakfast ready in
the morning, hiring the washing done, do-
ing the cooking and baking myself, she was
induced to adorn the house two weeks, but
deserted us when we were all sick in bed.

Right here I want to revoke what I have
said about treating measles with heat. I
had two patients. The ﬁrst I roasted. Re-
sult, she is not well after two months, with
impaired eyesight. The other I gave all the
cold water called for, kept the temperature
of the room moderate, and in ten days she
was going back to business. The cases
were exactly parallel in the beginning; both
originally in good health, the attack coming
on the same, etc., etc. .

A dressmaker followed the measles, and
verily the last was worse than the ﬁrst. She
was also an advertisement. She was a very
tall English woman who looked quite gen-

 

teel on ﬁrst appearance, but my heart sank
when she laid off her long cloak and dls-
closed a lank ﬁgure clothed in very broad
red plaid, a badly ﬁtting basque with puff-
ed sleeves. Instinct told me she could not
make a dress, but benevolence prompted
me to give her a trial. I lived to wish that
I had paid her and said good morning be-
fore she commenced. It might be useful to
some one to tell how she spoiled my
basques. I had bought patterns with curv-
ed fronts. She laid the edge of the pattern
at the neck on the edge of the goods and
then cut it straight, which left the darts too
far back. She must then have taken it up
under the arms. \Vhen I ripped them one
side was four inches larger than the other
and the darts were wholly unlike. She had
taken up the curved part of the side back
at the arm-hole until it did not measure an
inch. This seam and the darts, of an au-
thentic pattern, should never be altered.
She had added to the length of the sleeves,
put them together at random, and they con-
sequently turned round, making the seam
on top of the arm. This need never occur
if in adding length the pattern be notched
as it should go together and the extra al-
lowed both top and bottom. Most of the
patterns we now buy have these notches. I
would not advise anyone to try to make the
new style sleeves without a good pattern,
nor to wear them unless possessed of con-
siderable grace.

I have been worn out with bustles and
have been making experiments with the steels
and ﬁnd them quite comfortable and not
heavy if arranged right. Two reeds will
take up about four inches and length should
be added tothe top of the back breadth and
most of it right in the centre, so that the
slope seems rapid and somewhat pointed. I
also sew the shirs on sloping, say ﬁve
inches from the top in the middle and
eight inches from top, at the sides, for the
ﬁrst one. The second I sew straight across,
ten inches from the ﬁrst, measuring from
the centre. The best patterns for skirts have
very little slope on the gores and the front
gore is almost straight. Skirts cut this way
hang back nicely when the reeds are adj ust-
ed. In making the long plain back drap-
ery, the breadth should be shaped off at the
top like the underskirt, or it will be shorter
in the middle. I have not been able to get
the knack of the straight pleats over the
reeds. They will fall apart, and tacking
shows, so that I have been making a box
pleat at each side and gathering with three
shirs. This can be tacked a few places in
the folds and requires less than half the
goods. I leave the skirt open about ﬁve
inches on each side instead of at one side
and thus avoid all gaping at the placket.

I want also to say a word in favor of the
corset. I do ‘not believe that a corset in it-
self is damaging. I bought a “ Common
Sense” corset recently. It has no steel in
front and no bones, consequently I am com-
pelled to have a stiff bone in every scam in
my dress except the side body. I always
put one between the last dart and the next
seam and one in front under the buttons.
Now if that is not equal to any corset, then
I don’t know. I was quite converted to the
Mrs. J enness Miller dress, but on trial found

 

it Very troublesome to make and requiring a
certain style of beauty to wear. Few wo-
men look well without some extension in
the back, so she allows reeds. As for sup—
porting garments on the shoulder, I do not
believe it can be done unless the Whole dress
is made very loose and therefore without

form or curve. If one does not mind the -

broad appearance given to the back, the
present style of straight drapery without a
hustle, and a loose corset will meet the desire
for ease and comfort as well as anything
women wear.

If I had not written so much I would tell
about the lecture of Mr. Talmage, “ The
School of Scandal.” How much I admire
and reverence a man with the talent to
summon so vast an audience as assembled
to hear him lecture! There is nothing in
this life more to be desired than brains—
brains that will not only instruct others but
make money to live comfortably and do
good. DAFFODILLY.

51‘. Lows, Mo.

___..._._

FARMING IN NORTHERN MICHIGAN.

 

Having selected the very best locking of
A. L. L.’s photographs as probably my
own, I feel it a duty to return the compli-
ment. A. L. L., while I adjust the camera
will you please look at that spot on the
wall and wink as often as you want to.
While this negative is developing I want
to makeafew reﬂections. Strange, is it
not, the mental pictures we form of those
we have never seen but judge by what they
have written. Truer pictures perhaps
of their real selves than if merely of the
outward form. Yet I have always odd
ideas of the persons themselves that I don’t
get from their letters. For instance, why
am Iicertain that Beatrix is, to use the old
expression “ neat as wax,” that all her be-
longings are kept in as dainty order and
precision as the waxen cells of the honey
bee. Possibly her penmanship suggests it.
Or why do I read Daﬁodilly’s letters, with
the impression strong in my mind that she
is possessed of rare personal beauty. She
certainly never said so. But the negative
is ﬁnished and here is the ﬁrst print from it:
A lady exactly forty-four years of age,
though she doesn’t look it, for her life has
been a happy, easy one. Tall, with bright
black eyes, weight 180. A keen judge of
human nature, can see through shams of
any kind, is fearless in standing up for
what she believes to be right. And now
where does this impression come from,
that she is not exactly a working farmer’s
wife like most of us? But these are out-
ward things, the real, the inner life,
where the soul dwells in its own isolation,
only A. L. L. knows. ,

Do the Michigan farmers themselves
read this paper? If so here is a sug-
gestion for them. If you have left
since the election a lot of gummed slips
with your name on, which your friends
didn’t require to paste over the other man’s
name, put them on the handles of all your
tools, especially if you live in a borrow-
ing community.

I think northern Michigan is a beautifu

 

 

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country; that is, the hardwoods (nobody
admires its pine choppings), and I very
much like my own home here. I have got
rid of a good many ideas of this country
that Ibrought with me from the Western
Reserve, Ohio, nine years ago. The
climate is not so very different from that
much farther south. Our winter begins in
November and ends in April, and it did
there. I do not think it is any colder.
But it is diﬁerent in one respect, and in
that consists the very worst feature of this
country. We have such an immense
amount of snow in winter. The roads
have to be snowplowed frequently, or they
would be impassible. Some of our neigh-
bors think they prefer the snow to the
Ohio mud, but I certainly do not. We
consider our season short and so use seed
of the early varieties, but I always notice
in the papers the coming of frost in central
and southern Michigan at the time of our
ﬁrst frost in the fall here. We supposed
we could not raise corn, but that is a crop
that has never failed with us yet. The
farmers here are feeling discouraged, for
last year there was a terrible drouth, and
many of them want to exchange farms of
80 or more acres for places of 40 or 50
acres farther south, if they knew where
they could.

People who never saw Northern Michi-
gan think that the ground is barren and
poor. It is not. It hardly can be with the
leaves of the thick hard wood trees falling
and rotting on the ground for hundreds of
years. Improved farms with good build-
ings and more or less land cleared, can be
bought for $10 to $25 per acre. In wild
lands the school lands are the cheapest,
can be had in good locations for $4 per
acre. The women here are contented and
would not willingly give up their homes;
it is the men who want to go to Washing—
ton territory, Oklahoma and Dakota, prob-
ably from the American restlessness that
makes foreigners call us a “nation of
emigrants.” I would much rather live in
northern Michigan than in the far west, if
under the necessity of buying where land
is cheap.

Our root crops of all kinds are much bet-
ter than in Ohio. Even if our crops
generally are not as good as in southern
Michigan, they certainly pay a better in-
terest on the money invested in the land
than where land is $100 and upwards per
acre.

We settlers here are not doing as well as
we might. With several thousand sugar
maple trees on our farms and ready mar-
ket for syrup at $1 per gallon, only a few
of us make enough for our own use. This
is a good country for sheep, pasture un-
limited, but there are only eight in this
township. There is not a hive of bees in
the county, though white clover grows
wild and the whole country is white with
the bloom of berry blossoms. That re-
minds me, if Geo. E. Hilton will mention
what county Fremont is in he may hear
something to his advantage. I am not
going to write to him without knowing
the county, while there are eight different

Fremont in which Mr. Hilton resides is in
, Newaygo County.—ED.]
If there is any more information I can
give to Bess, write and let me know. Ad-
dress Huldah Perkins, Pioneer, Missaukee
Co., Mich. There is much more to be said

but this letter is already too long.
HULDAH PERKINS.

 

MOUNT VERNON.

 

Of course a visit to Washington meant a
pilgrimage to Mount Vernon. It is generally
known that this place is now owned and
managed by an incorporated society of
ladies, known as the National Mount Ver~
non Association, the executive committee
consisting of one member from each State,
known as regents. These meet once a year
to transact necessary business. Mount Ver-
non lies 16 miles below the city, and at
present 200 acres of land are owned by the
Association. They also own the boat which
plies between that point and the city. The
boat leaves the dock at 10 A. 11., returning
at 3:30 P. M.; fare, including admission to
the grounds, one dollar the round trip. To
illustrate the cosmopolitan character of the
visitors, a census was taken on the boat at
the time of our visit, and there were found
among about one. hundred passengers rep-
resentatives from 34 States and Territories.
The mansion is situated on a high bank,
a graveled drive leading up the slope from
the wharf, bordered by a plank walk. Part
way up a ravine breaks the bank, where
are several weeping willows from the. tomb
of Napoleon. The new tomb is on the
brow of the hill, a plain brick structure
with wide, arched gateway having double
grated iron gates. Inside is plainly visible
the marble sarcophagi containing the re-
mains of Washington and his wife. His
name, with the American shield, is sculp-
tured on his cofﬁn; on his wife’s, “Martha,
consort of Washington.” Fresh wreaths
of ﬂowers rested on each. Human nature
was shown by the rude crowding and jost-
ling of some to obtain ﬁrst place at the
gates, and one young miss, from whose
composition reverence seemed excluded,
with a smirk, boisterously advised her es-
cort, “Take off your hat, George, in the
presence of the Father of your Country.”
The inner gate of the tomb was locked and
the key thrown into the river when all was
placed in order after the removal of the re-
mains to the new tomb, to prevent the in-
roads of that shameless vandal, the “ relic ”
hunter. Near by are four plain marble mon-
uments to the memory of relatives of the
illustrious dead. ’

The mansion is of wood, two stories high,
with an attic of four rooms lighted by
dormer windows. The rooms have been
restored as far as possible to their condi-
tion when occupied by Washington; some
things remained, some have been returned
as donations, others have been duplicated:
Visitors pass in through the main rooms
and halls, though barred doorways pre-
vent ingress to the most historic rooms,
but all can be easily seen. Each State, as
far as possible, has assumed the care and
preservation of a particular room, others

 

Fremonts in Michigan. [The particular

 

  
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
     
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
   
 
    
 
    
 
   
  

THE HOUSEHOLD. 3

stored and protects the old tomb, now
guarded by an iron railing. There are, I
think, 16 rooms in the mansion, which is
90 feet long by 30 wide. On the east front
is a portico reaching up the two stories,
supported by heavy columns, giving a ﬁne
effect. The well near the door, with its
windlass and bucket, furnishes splendid
water as of yore. Arched, covered pas-
sages lead to separate buildings at the
back, such as kitchen, milk house, etc.
The old brick barn has been renovated,
new roofed, and will stand for years to
come.

Intelligent, pleasant guides areready to
show or explain whatever you ask about,
and watch that no damage is done. Signs
everywhere forbid breaking or defacing,
and a ﬁne of ﬁve dollars is levied on any
person caught violating rules.

On leaving, various relics in the shape of
magnolia leaves, shells, small plants from
the greenhouse. etc., are offered at your
own price; photographic views are offered
for sale, a lunch at the dairy can be had,
and in such ways the necessary funds to
pay expenses are procured.

I have gone more into detail in this case
from the belief that all will feel a lively in-
terest in anything connected with the home
of Washington. I will not give a descrip-
tion of‘ the rooms, as I fear to weary the
HOUSEHOLD. The situation of the house
is very commanding, and the view from
the portico is beautiful. It was a day to
be marked with a white stone for me; in-
deed, it was the realization of a life-long
dream. All steamers passing Mount Ver-
non toll their bells, a ﬁtting requiem for
the noble dead. The evening after, we
went to a promenade concert at the Pension
building, where the inaugural ball was
held, and the grand decorations were still
in place. Imagine a room 316 feet long,
116 feet wide, 148 feet high, with two rows
of pillars 25 feet in circumference, equi-
distant from each other and the ends; two
galleries all around the sides, with ceiling,
walls and pillars all covered, hung and
twined with bunting, banners, streamers,
ﬂags, ﬂowers, ropes and banks of green,
and lighted to noonday brightness with
white and colored electric lights, and you
may gain a faint idea of the fairy-like
scene. A pagoda-like structure perhaps
40 feet square, two stories high, erected in
the centre, banked in green relieved with
ﬂowers and ﬂashing with myriad colored
lights, formed a place of concealment for
the Marine band, whose enchanting music
is of world-wide fame. The tiled ﬂoor
was comfortably ﬁlled with a good—hu-
mored, well-dressed crowd, and the kaleido-
scopic, moving panorama of human forms
in gala dress made a picture to hang on
memory’s wall.

Wishing that you all might have “been
there to see,” and assuring you of my pleas-
ure in telling you “ all about it,” I bid all

a courteous good day. A. L. L.
INGLESIDE.

“ﬂu——

A REQUEST is made for the name and
address of any person engaged in silk cul-

 

some outside building. Michigan has re-

  

ture in this State.

  

%
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THE HOUSEHOLD.‘

    

 

ONE WEEK.

(Continued)

Saturday morning, andl feel constrained
to cry with my friend Fritz, “By shim-
meny! dis ish the highest cutting up of the
men folks that has ever come under my
opservation.” In the ﬁrst place Philander
has gotten up with the ﬁrst streak of light
for two mornings, hitched up the colts and
circled around the country. Ostensibly it
was to notify different parties that on certain
days they could haul on logs and have
them sawed, but I can see through th it: he
don’t like to milk those heifers that have
appeared at the barn, for he knows they
kick and who can wonder at it! Well
bred cattle with long pedigrees ought to do
something out of the natural order of
things. One hired man came down with
measles, lung fever, pneumonia, mumps
and I don’t know how many more of the
“ ills that ﬂesh is heir to,” and went home
last night; another went away to be gone
over Sunday, so our force is considerably
diminished. I have been up all night with
Raymond, who has the mumps, so I use
what strength I have remaining on a lump
of dough, which I knock about on the
moulding board until it is in a smooth
mass, set it away to rise, chop some cold
lean ham, beat eggs, make a ham omelet,
steam oatmeal, ﬁx creamed potatoes, coffee,
cookies, crackers, and breakfast is ready.
Into the frying pan put a cup of cream
thinned with milk, a big lump of butter
and salt; when it boils up turn in the
boiled potatoes, sliced very thin, cover up
and let them simmer; they should be. moist,
and are delicious.
When I was a “ girl” I spent some time
in Chicago; one day we were lunching at a
tony restaurant, had broiled chicken, brook
trout, lobster salad and creamed potatoes.
The elegant widower at my left said with
a killing glance, “ When I ﬁnd a lady who
can cream potatoes as they did at the Bay,
where a party of us used to go pleasuring,
I will at once offer her my heart and hand.
Can you?” I caught a glimpse of a ring
on my left hand and conscience bade me
answer “No.” Put that down as a lost
opportunity! Philander comes dashing in
just as we are getting about the table; he
has kicked up a dust, and got such an
appetite as only a morning ride will induce;
and I feel like telling him that I never
would mention dyspepsia again if I could
pack away such a lot of provisions. Table
cleaned, bread moulded into the tins, two
loaves; cake made; three cups of dough,
two and one-half cups of brown sugar, one
cup butter, three eggs, all kinds of spice,
and a cup of chopped raisins—use tea or
coffee cups; tw‘o mince pies and one cus-
tard, dried corn washed and put soaking, a
ham put over to boil; horseradish grated, a
tin of apples pared, halved, cores dug out,
sugar sprinkled over, a little nutmeg, a lit-
tle water, and when the oven is empty they
will be baked; I like them warm. Apples
are not keeping at all, and one must use
them, not only to save them, but because
they are healthy. I steep some saffron tea
for Raymond, put a bran poultice on his
throat, soak his feet and tuck him away in

a fresh bed, give him hot lemonade for a
drink and he dozes nearly all day.

Six beds are made, sweeping done, dust-
ing; fresh papers put on some of the
pantry shelves; cellar stairs cleaned; dining-
room windows washed; four large hams
sliced down and packed in jars and lard
run over—a job which has been long talked
about, but now actually acheived. I open
a two quart can of stock, add some vermi-
celli, curry powder, a little grated potato,
salt, and color it with a caramel made of a
spoonful of sugar melted and then browned
down, not burned. This soup, with
mashed potatoes, sliced boiled ham,
sweet corn. bread, tea and custard pie
make up the dinner, which is ready quarter
past twelve. John is the only man here,
as two loads of wood went to towu today.
After the dinner work is out of the way,
John ﬁnishes painting the kitchen; the iron
sink and pump are treated to a fresh black
coat, the wood work of the sink—a hand-

‘some red, the two doors and window

frames are the same color—and wood box
the top is whitewashed and side peachblow.

One sews on a new calico dress; another
makes two pairs of drawers on the machine
—the new Singer works like a charm. I cut
out three night-dresses—Mother Hubbard—
for myself, and when I get them made
will make fourteen nightdresses made since
October. Three underskirts are torn off
and one commenced. Fannie gets the
mail from the ofﬁce and I get the bottom of
one nightdress made, and seventeen but-
tonholes worked. Supper at six; fresh
bread, cold boiled ham; horseradish; bread;
cake; oranges cut up with sugar; scrambled
eggs; tea. Fannie and Evis show the same
symptoms as Raymond, and by nine o’clock
both are sick. I make some long bags (out
of thin cloth) that will come up well under
the ears, ﬁll them with raw onions rubbed
soft, moistened with alcohol, pin them on,
and make up my mind for another night’s
vigil. Outside the rain is dropping, freez-
ing as it falls, the monotony only broken
by the cries of the children as alternately
they call my name; and almost instinctively
the word mother trembles on my lips, the
longing for her ﬁlls my heart; just as I
wanted her in childhood, in girlhood, I
I want her in womanhood; want h er advice
and assistance with my little ones. I am
thinking of the many‘times she sat as I am
now sitting, taking care of her .children,
soothing pain, bearing with their peevish.
ness, bidding us be hopeful and patient in
trouble, joining, in our mirth and happi~
ness. It has been twenty-four years since
the cofﬁn lid closed between her face and
mine, but there have been many times in
trouble, sorrow, sickness and suffering
when I have called vainly for her; for
never by word or touch have I felt her
presence, and I would have given all I have
or hope to have, for a pressure of her hand,
for the sound of her voice. But the night
which seems interminable wears away, it is
striking four, the children sleep soundly
and I drop down beside them in a sound
sleep, knowing that there is “ no night but
hath its day.”

FOR J ANNETTE’S BENEFIT.

It is a long time since I last wrote to the-

HOUSEHOLD, and during that time I have
found so many helps that when I took up -
the little paper to-night and saw J annette’s
requests, I thought I could answer some of
her questions. i
In making boiled frosting, the hardness
of it depends on the length of time the
sugar is boiled. I boil it until when I
draw a fork through it, it will “ hair.”
I have a Singer machine, purchased
through the FARMER, and I have never had
any trouble with my hemmers. I think
they do equally as good work as any other.
hemmer.

In my butter—making experience I have
never had any trouble with streaked butter
unless for some cause it was not thoroughly
worked. I always salt my butter as soon»
as it leaves the churn (I wash it in the
churn), and then let it stand two hours at
the least—more will not hurt it; then I
work it until the butter-milk is entirely
out. If it is worked too quickly after
salting the salt will not have dissolved, and
when it does your butter will have streaks.

I think white specks are caused by some-
conditions of the air, for I have frequently
had them when I set my milk in pans, and
never when the milk was in a creamery,
or in cans Where the air did not touch the-
milk.

I would say to Bess that if she will take
chaff and put a layer two inches deep in,
bottom of the box, then set the eggs in on.
the small end so they will not touch one
another, cover the eggs with another
layer of chaﬁ and so on until the box is
full, next winter she will have as many
good eggs as she put down fresh ones.

There was a recipe given in the winter
for frosting without eggs. I have mislaid-
the paper and forgotten the recipe; if some
one will repeat it for me they will greatly
oblige Tom’s WIFE.

KALAXAZOO.
————...-—-——

Contributed Recipes.

 

FRUIT Cooxms.—'1wo cups sugar; one cup
butter; two cups chopped raisins; two eggs;
half cup sour milk; one teaspoonful soda;-
spices of all kinds to suit the taste. Mix and
and bake same as other cookies.

SUGAR Cooxms.-One cup sugar; half cup
butter; half cup sour cream; half teaspoonful
soda; two eggs: season to taste. Mix soft;
roll thin and sprinkle with sugar.

Monassns (lemurs—Two cups brown
sugar: one cup butter: one cup molasses; half
cup cold water; two teaspoonfuls ginger; two
of soda. Boil all together; when cold mix
stiff, roll thin, out and bake.

Waoous'ra. LAUREL VANE.

 

WHITE CAKs.—Two cups granulated sugar;
half cup butter: one cup sweet milk; three
cups ﬂour: whites of four eggs well beaten;
three small teaspoonfuls baking powder sifted
with the ﬂour. Beat the sugar and butter to
a cream; stir in the milk and ﬂour, a little at
a time, the whites of eggs last. This makes
two cakes in square tins, 8x12, and if frosted
and cut in squares, with an English walnut
meat or a bit of clear jelly laid on each, you
have something very nice for any festive oc
GLADYS.

oasion .

 

 

 

(To be continued.)

BOWLING.

   

 

 

 

 

 

