
 

 

 
  
 
  
  

DETROIT, OCTOBER 14, 1884.

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THE HQUSEHQDLDmnSuppIememm

 

 

 

 

 

 

L0 VE'S .MEANING.

 

1 thought it meant‘all glad ecstatic things,
Fond glance, and touch, and speech, quick blood
and brain,
And strong desire and sweet delicious pain,
And beanty’s thrall, and strange bewilderings,
’Twixt hope and fear—like to the little stings
The rose thorn gives; and then the utter gain,
With all my sorest striving to attain,
0! the dear bliss long sought possession gives.

Now. with a sad, keen sight that reassures
My often sinking soul, with longing eyes,
Aver-ted from the path that still allures,
(Best seeing that for which my sore heart sighs
I seek my own good at the cost of yours,)
I know atllast that love means sacriﬁce.
—0ao‘lotta Perry.

w
BROKEN ENGAGEMEN TS.

 

Not of the matrimonial order, but those
engagements to ride, to walk, to call, to
dine, which we are almost daily making
with one another, and which are so often
left unfulﬁlled through carelessness” and
want of proper respect for the sacredness
of our promises. It seems to me, looking
back over my summer’s experiences, that
the “great want of the times,” is a little
more conscientiousness on the part of
women in the keeping of engagements.
A man who promises and fails to per
form soon becomes known among men as
unreliable, and his business reputation and
credit suffer in consequence, and justly,
for the only way in which commercial
affairs can be conducted with safety and
certainty, is for every man to fulﬁll his
engagements. It really seems sometimes
as if the average woman’s promises were
made only to be broken.

It maybe said that a woman’s engage-
ments, being of a less important character
than men’s, are not necessarily so binding.
Relating to trivial matters, she may break
or keep them as occasion warrants; com-
mercial disaster does not wait on her
shortcomings. But it seems to me that
"apromise is a promise ” all the world
over, whether it relates to the payment of
thousands at the bank, or dining with a
friend. There is of course a difference in
the importance of interests involved, but
the obligation of the promise should be
as binding in one case as in the other. In
other words, I believe all our promises,of
whatever nature, once made, should be
regarded as pledges to be redeemed at any
expense of personal inconvenience. “A bad
promise is better broken than kept.” says
an old proverb, and in some cases there
are certain promises that ought never to
have been made in the ﬁrst place, and

 

 

which we are justiﬁed in breaking, but if
we respected our promises more, we
should consider them before hastily mak-
ing them, and there would be fewer to
break, or be grudgingly met.

It is often urged against women that
they are not to be depended upon in
business relations; that if they promise
for one day they are quite as likely to
perform the day after and seem oblivious
of having neglected a duty in so dorng.
This I think is not true of "working wo-
men,”——those who earn their own liveli-
hood outside of home—these are early
taught the imperative nature of business
engagements and the habit, once formed,
extends to the minor obligations of life,
of which I more particularly speak. But
the average woman consults her individ~
ual inclination and convenience, lets
slight things hinder, forgets, or calmly
and deliberately ignores promises she has
herself made,to the decided inconvenience
and vexation of others. She promises to
call for a friend on a certain day, and
with her visit a third person who is per
haps apprised of their coming. When
the time comes she “isn’t in the mood,”
the sun is warm, it is cloudy, 01' she wants
to do something else. Her friend waits
till patience is exhausted, the afternoon
spoiled, and her temper ruﬂied. I need
not enlarge; we have all suffered and
know how provoking it is to wait, under
such circumstances, and how time is
wasted we can'ill spare, and our plans to-
tally disarrauged. Perhaps we have put
off others, or have denied ourselves an-
other pleasure for'the sake of keeping our
part of the engagement, all for nothing,
missing both pleasures.

But I am inclined to believe the post-
poned engagement is even more aggravat-
ing than one broken out and out. A
message comes saying in effect “not to-
day; some other day," and you make new
plans and pick up scattered threads again,
with ever the thought that what has hap-
pened once may happen again, and per-
haps you are to be again disappointed.
An adjournment sine die, till both meet
and mutually agree on a date, is better
than this. Who of us has not with in-
ﬁnite painstaking made ready for guests,
only to receive notice that they will come
another time “if it does not make any dif-
ference.” It does make a uiﬁerence; the
total change of programme is extremely
inconvenient, the past preparations go
for naught. and must be made anew, and
never the second time with the same
pleasurable zest as at ﬁrst, but we are too

 

polite to say so. What “Manners and
Social Usages” says on the subject I am
not informed, but it seems as if good
roundabout common sense would indicate
that if we cannot keep our own appoint-
ments, We should leave the second ones
to be made by our disappointed friends,
to suit their convenience. Sometimes,
of course, we are not responsible for non-
fulﬁllment;accidents will occur, cars or
steamers are delayed, or a failure on the
part of others compels delay, but such ac-
cidents are not to be classed as willfully
broken pledges.

I have myself suffered considerable at
the hands of the ﬁend who presides over
the broken engagement business, “hence
these tears." In looking back over the
summer, it really seems as if the pleas-
ures I have missed through the negligence
of others in keeping engagements, exceed
those enjoyed; and pleasures to most of
us are not so numerous that to miss them
is not a deprivation. It is always
the blossom just beyond our reach
that is fairest. always the joys we miss
that seem brightest and best, and most to
be desired. Worst of all. I have been
obliged by force of circumstances to do
the very thingI am now deprecating in
others. I too have broken promises,
made in good faith, which I found my-
Self unable te keep because of the delays,
postponements, and unfulfilled vows of
others. Friends have been disappointed
by my shortcomings, and have doubtless
classed me among the “unreliable sister-
hood." But I declare myself more sinned
against than sinning, and to defend my
reputation from further imputations in
the matter of reliability. I am seriously
contemplating the advisability of “turn-
ing over a new leaf." How would it an-
swer to keep one’s owu engagements at
all hazards, and let those who break and
re-make theirs suffer the results, instead
of allowing them to extend beyond the
immediate range of circle number one
into that of circle number two? But how
delightful it would be if an engagement
once entered into, even for a trivial mat-
ter, were regarded as binding, and we let
no obstacle, unless just and sufﬁcient,
prevent us from doing as we promise, at
the promised time! BEATRIX.

AN exchange says that if any person
who is liable to poison with poison ivy
will take pure olive oil after being ex-
pOsed to it he will feel no bad effects,
and the oil will neutraliZe the effects of

the poison if a few doses be taken even
after the person has broken out.

 


THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

 

 

DAISY’S ANSWER.

 

Faith asks if I am one of those who are
“in the world, but not of the world,” and
if I live up to my profession. If to be
“in the world but not of it,” is to draw
my skirts about me and say in manner,
“ Stand asrde, I am holier than thou,”‘ or
try to live within a set of small prejudices,
holding to my own views and having no
charity for those who do not agree with
me, I certainly do not. For my own part,
I do not see the necessity. Christianity
is for the world, and if those professing
it shut themselves up, away from the
world in a. little exclusive circle of would-
be-saints, I do not see how they or their
example can do good to anybody. It is
some hundreds of years since the follow-
ers of Christ were bidden to come out
from among the Jews and Romans and
be a people by themselves, not conforming
to the world. It was a pagan world then,
now it is a Christian one. The pleasures
of the Romans were brutal, lustful, or
effeminately luxurious; the pleasures of a
respectable world in the nineteenth cen-
tury are of a different character.

I think “One Woman’s ” opinions on
dress are excellent, they give the key-note
to the situation. To dress as well as one’s
associates, suitably to one’s station in life,
should be our aim. To think too much
of dress, and be always endeavoring to
have the “ latest style ” shows a poor
ambition, while to be poorly dressed
makes one uncomfortable and self-con-
scious. I sympathize with a friend of
mine who says she cannot enjoy religion
in a last year’s bonnet. By that she con-
veys the idea that to be neatly and ap.
propriately dressed, in itself banishes all
thought of dress, and she is ready to
give her thoughts and attentlon to more
important matters. To my thinking it is
just as much a sign of weakness to be
unsolicitous as to personal appearance as
it is to be over-solicitous. I once knew a
family of Quakers, who, as we all know
dress very plainly, and always in drab.
I never could see but that they gave their
clothes just as much thought as “ the
world’s people,” and a pleat too many or
too few in a bonnet was as much anxiety
to them as the style of a whole suit was
to others.

I believe in a religion that makes itself
seen not in withdrawing from the world,
but in living in it, of it, taking our share
of its temptations and enjoying its legit-
imate pleasures. We are to “ overcome
evil with good,” and how can we do that
if we shut ourselves up in a little coterie
of exclusive souls and “look superior
down” upon all outsiders? The broader
our platform of Christian charity the
nobler our Christian life. Perhaps I am
not orthodox, but I believe there are a
good many who do not name themselves
Christians whose lives entitle them to the
Christian’s reward. Witness a case under
my own knowledge, where a girl who had
gone astray, and whose own father,
“pillar of the church ” as he had been
called, disowned her and forbade, her
name to be spoken in his presence, was

taken into the home of a wealthy woman,

 

 

theatre-goer and “worldling,” comforted,
strengthened, and ﬁnally placed in a
self-supportin g position by her aid. This
“devotee of fashion ” did what not one
in ﬁfty other women would do, and I
name her a Christian in deed, if not in
profession. I saw a good thing in the
Christian at Work on this subject recent-
ly. These words are put into the mouth
of “Uncle Saulz” “Religion ought to
strike all through us, like saleratus
through a good Shortcake, and not taste
too strong anywhere. You’ve broke
open a biscuit before now, I dare say:
and found it speckled full of them pesky
yaller eyes. I know folks with their
religion speckled through ’em just like
that; and if it makes ’em safe for the next
world it makes ’em mighty unpleasant for

this.” DAISY.
FLm'r.

w“..—
OU'I‘SIDE FALL AND \VlNTER

GARMENTS.

 

Our autumnal days have so far been so
bright and warm that piles of fall gar-
ments remain unsold on the merchants’
counters. In conversation with one of our
large dealers, we were told that there are
no particularly new or distinctive styles
in fall or winter wraps, but that the Rus-
sian circular and Newmarket coat will
remain in favor for cold weather, while
the Albert jacket, and always in style
English walking jacket, are most popular
for autumn days. The Albert jacket,
which is often sent home as part of a
tailor-made suit, is exactly like a man’s
coat, minus its chief blessing, the many
pockets, except for the full pleats at the
back, which afford room for the still
ample bustle and back drapery of the
dress. The new Russian circulars show
an improvement added last winter, half
sleeves which protect the arms. The
Newmarket is a close ﬁtting garment,
with straight fronts and considerable
fullness cut in the skirt at the back.
Some however are without the pleats, but
are not as pretty and stylish. A graceful
variation of this style was shown in a
garment of matelasse—a heavy cloaking
w1th small brocaded ﬁgures woven in its
surface—in which the fullness of the back
was set on in a pouf, under a handsome
ornament. These garments are shown
in all materials, from the brocade velvet
trimmed with chenille fringe or feather
bands, and heavy ottoman silk bordered
with fur, to the beaver or shaggy bourette
with the Astrachan border and collar.
Astrachan, though not as pretty a trim-
ming as fur, bids fair to displace it in
popular favor, and may be had in several
different colors. Collar and cuffs of
beaver are seen on this season’s New-
markets, many of which are in matelasse.
A tendency to shorten outside wraps is
seen, and some stylish models in brocade
velvet are shown which closely follow the
styles of the short mantles worn with
autumn toilettes. The Newmarket is the
leading style for misses and growing girls.

For the little people, there are several
modes, each “cute ” and pretty. One
model is a simple sack coat, whose most

 

 

 

 

noticeable feature is the very large but-

tons which close it, over which is worn a

cape, cut with high shoulders, simply
hemmed, and fastened at the throat with
bow and ends of ribbon. Another, of
plaid ﬂannel, was of much the same style
except that there was some fullness
added at the seam of the back, just be

low the waist line, out in like the pleats
of a lady’s basque. At the side the skirt
was cut up, a piece laid in side pleats
set in, andapocket lid held down by
buttons concealed the seam. Other ﬂan-
nel garments were laid in pleats from the
neck down, but this is an older style.
Deep plush collars and cuffs are seen on
many plain cloth coats.

Ladies who are sensitive to cold or
have far to ride in winter weather, will
ﬁnd the cloth circular, Russian style,
warmly lined and wadded, one of the
most comfortable garments they can
procure. The sleeves, which are not
noticeable under the garment, remove the
one objection to the style as it ﬁrst ap-
peared, and the arms are not bound down
till one is practically helpless, as is often
the case with adolman or its modiﬁca~
tions. The wadded lining gives so much
additional warmth that those who once
buy a lined garment will never again
purchase an unlined one.

-——-OOO----—

THE SCHOOL QUESTION.

 

I am glad to see you discussing the
country schools. The worst phase of the
school question is the lack of interest
shown by the parents. And this not be-
cause they do not feel interested, but be-
cause they do not see how to work with
theteacher for the good of the school.
and, having never tried to express their
interest and good will. see no means by
which to express their sentiments.

Farmers and their wives are busy peo-
ple, yet if they could be made to feel that
their personal interest in their school, ex-
pressed by visits and words of cheer to
teacher and pupil, would increase its
value by arousing enthusiasm, emula-
tion and zeal in teacher and pupil, they
would at once ﬁnd time for this even at
the expense of some other duty.

Teachers are conscientious, as a rule,
but it is hard, wearing work to manage a
district school,and takes time and strength
that ought to be spent in instruction.
What enthusiasm or zeal on the teacher’s
part can stand the constant nagging of
boys and girls who make a study of doing
every annoying thing they can without
getting punished for it? How many schools
are there without such pupils? What
wonder that a teacher hears a class in a
mechanical manner when order is main-
tained only by keeping an eye constantly
on the pupils? I write feelingly on this
subject, for I have taught where for a
long time I knew that the slightest lack
of watching would afford Ill-disposed pu-
pils alonged-for chance for disturbing the
school with some mischief which should
prevent even the well disposed from
study, and break up all order and regu-
larity, and destroy for a time the useful—-
ness of the school.

 

Had one or two of the parents been

 

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THE "HOUSEHOLD. 3

 

present the government would taken care
'of itself.

No scholar likes to fail before his par-
ents, and so will study much better for
occasional visits. Teacher and parents
will become acquainted, and pupils will
be unable to excite sympathy in their
conﬂicts with teachers.

The value (usefulness) of country schools
will be doubled by a moderate amount of
visiting by the parents.

N o doubt too much stress is laid on
arithmetical puzzles, and far too little on
writing in both senses, the mechanical
execution and the expression of thoughts
in proper form.

A practical education is not as too
many think, storing the memory with
facts and attempting to make the memory
serve as an encyclopedia; but in training
the mind—teaching the pupil to think.

Thought—power is practical education,
and practical education gioes thought
power.

Badas is the idea of a teacher’s revolving
year after year in the narrow circle of a
third grade certiﬁcate, worse is the prac-
tice prevailing to quite an extent on the
part of school ofﬁcers of employing those
who cannot even get a third grade cer-
tiﬁcate, because they can be hired for less
money.

The same men on their farms employ
not the man who will work for the least
money. but very likely the man who asks
the most for his services. They know
that which costs little is generally worth
nothing. but have not thought of school-
teaching in the same light, that is, from a
business point of view.

Until society is so changed that teach—
ing is something more than a means of
ﬁlling up an interim (earning a little mon-
ey to keep the teacher along until some-
thing can be taken up as a life business)
there will belittle esprit-de-corps among
teachers. C. E. II.

LAINGSBURG.

—-—§O§—*

TALK VS. CONVERSE.

 

There is much talk that is not converse.
‘There is much converse that is not talk-

“George Eliot is a charming woman.
She talks inst as she writes!” exclaimed
that lady’s personal friend,and immediate-
ly a high and mighty editor—now a
"‘ mugwump ”—-rose and contemptuously
cried: .

“A woman that talks as George Eliot
writes would be an insufferable bore.”

A criticism in which most of those will
coincide who have made the necessary
use of the intellectual pick and shovel in
a journey through George Eliot’s literary
“mines.” -

’Tis the ripple or rush of “talk” that
keeps the world bowing and smiling—
chatting and chatting—that sets its pulse
to a healthier, happier beat. But send

this “talk” chasing amongst the laby-
rinths of philosophy, or metaphysics, and
the majority are bored. For either some
one harangues the company, or a couple
converse. And herein lies the kernel of
truth contained in each of the above
statements.

The personal friend held

 

 

converse with George Eliot, and voted
her charming, while the editor called
things by their right names, and to him
“talk” was but another name for recrea-
tion—a respite from thought, and the ap-
plication of the mind to abstruse theories,
dogmatical tenets and “vexed questions.”
The handling of these things is toil,
severe, exacting, exhausting. No ﬁnite
mind may safely pin itself to this sort of
toil, like Prometheus to the rock. Still,
Nature places in her plan minds as well
as bodies that are never at rest only
when they are at work; but she is also
very careful not to run short on the nec-
essary two-thirds who vote that “ a little
nonsense now and then” is a choice
elixir for both brain and body.

E. L. NYE .
METAMOP-A.

————_..‘.__

GOING TO MILL.

 

“ 0! ho! A woman going to mill. Well,
I’d draw the line there if I was a farmer’s
wife, for that is something I wouldn’t
do.” And why not, pray? I went to mill
yesterday, and enjoyed it. Eli is over-
crowded with work just now, and I am
not, and surely the way I spent the after
noon was much easier than doing house-
work or running a sewing machine, and
more healthful than crazy-work or paint~
ing. My outﬁt was a double buggy with
three bags of wheat, covered with can-
vas, a basket of grapes in the seat beside
me, and a team that in no way resembled
the “ woman’s horse” that Beatrix wrote
about, for they were fat and sleek, and
would go quite as fast as I cared to ride.
It is ﬁve miles to the mill, the ﬁrst mile a
level, sandy road, and then the hills.
The read over each one led higher and
higher, a longer ascent to reach the sum-
mit, and less descent on the other side,like
the foot-hills in a mountainous country,
until the highest point for many miles
was reached, and there I stopped to look
around. To the east the view spreads out
like a vast panorama; clumps of the
original forest designating “the woods”
for each farm, while smaller patches
of leafy enclosure represent the many
orchards where each separate tree is
literally loaded with fruit; and ﬁeld after
ﬁeld where the crop now stands in shocks
with the piles of sound corn on one side,
showing that the autumnal harvest is
already commenced and that the yield
far exceeds the farmers’ expectations
during all those droughty summer days.
The pastures were well stocked with
horses, cattle, sheep and hogs; turkeys
and chickens were chasing unlucky grass-
hoppers and growing fat over the race,
while a ﬂock of clumsy geese had wad-
dled down the lane below to hiss at me as
I passed.

Many streams starting from springs 1n
this ridge furnish power and irrigation
and drink for all the mills and farms and
stock. until they empty into Lake St-
Clair, twenty miles away, from which
the smoke of passing steamers can here
be seen by sharper eyes than mine. In
vain I strain my vision, for not a whiff
rewards me.

 

Scientists tell us that away back in the
prehistoric days, this ridge was the shore
of a lake that has receded until only
little St. Clair remains; that all these
fertile farms over which my gaze wanders
were the bottom of the lake, and many a
wave worn rock and bed of shells have
been found in proof of the theory; and I
pause a moment to think of the result if
the water should some day rise in its
might, and claim its own original terri-
tory. But old forests have grown and
decayed and other trees new old have
come up, and ﬂourished in their stead.
since those unknown days. The view to
westward is a succession of rounded hills.
crowded so thickly together that there is
scarcely room for even a depression be-
tween, and they seem to follow on and on
interminably, like the waves on the
great lakes, and many are covered just
now with a bright green carpet of new
wheat, that proves the necessary “good
beginning ” for next year’s harvest.

A few rods from the road on the top of
one of these knolls is a lonely square.
enclosed by four lengths of rails, a soli-
tary gnarled tree making a slow growth
in the neglected space. It is the grave of
one of the ﬁrst white settlers, buried there
nearly sixty years ago. There were no
roads, no cemeteries then, and no friends
ever came to claim the remains, so during
all these years that little rail pen has re-
mained in the midst of the rich farm, a
strange monument for the almost for-
gotten dead.

On the opposite side is a pasture on a
four hundred—acre farm, and a herd of‘
cattle feeding and lying at rest in the
warm sun next attracted my attention
from their peculiar markings. The
clumsy three~year~olds that looked all
ready for market, the lighter stockers.
the goodly number of cows, the frisky
yearlings and the summer calves were all
together, and without any exception they
had snow—white faces, with dark red
rings around the eyes, while their bodies
were mostly red, and those funny faces.
all so exactly alike. looking over and
peering through the fence, were a gro‘
tesque sight.

Onward I went until the end of the
westward road marks the town and county
line where. in the original survey, the
“tallies” did not agree, and a “jog” is the
result;then turning southward through
the “oak openings,” where the trees
come close to the track, and through the
branches the waters of Stoney Creek ﬂash
in the sunlight, as they tumble along over
the rocky bed that gives the stream its
name; past mills and factories, until a
sharp turn brings me to the destination
of my “grist” and the obliging young
miller, (as gentlemanly, aye and as hand-
some too, as though he stood behind a
counter, albeit his white suit isatriﬂe
whiter with the dust of his calling) takes
out the bags and I go on across the race
and over the larger bridge that spans the
noisy stream, to the home of a friend.
where a pleasant call ﬁlls in the time for
the grinding, andIdeal out my basket
of “Clintons,” to the delighted children
who cluster almost as thickly around

 


 

4:

 

THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

 

around the parent vine, as do these
grapes on their stem.

Again I drive to the door of the mill,
my load is ready, and I am homeward
bound. and whenI unlock the door under
my own vine-covered porch, I ﬁnd that
the clock has only told off four hours
since I started from home.

My letter is long, and there is so much
more that might be told, of the old his-
toric oak by the roadside, that looked so
stalwart the last time I saw it, now torn
and shattered in a hundred pieces by a
bolt of lightning, of the new granite
monument in the “ silent city on the hill,”
that I stopped to view, of the willow fence
through the marshy hollow, growing
taller and thicker every year, and always
my admiration, of the peculiar history of
the present and former inmates of some
of the farm houses on the route, that is
all in my mind as 'I pass by. There is
comedy and tragedy enough that might
be woven in with my trip, to make a long
and thrilling story, and yet I only “went
to mill;” and you, who read my letter
will have accompanied me, (on paper,)
but I assure you all that the reality was
much more pleasant than any description
can be. Am I disgraced by doing some

thing out of “ our sphere?”
EL . SE E.
Wasnmerox.

——————«.———

MEDICAL SCIENCE FOR WOMEN.

 

One of the chief arguments brought
forward against the study of medicine
by woman, is that to gain a practical
knowledge of anatomy she must
necessarily enter the dissecting-room,
and dissect human bodies, and that
no woman can do this without
the loss of womanly delicacy and
reﬁnement. The idea prevails that
the very thought of this essential but
revolting task would be so repugnant to
apure—minded, womanly woman, that it
would be impossible for her, being such,
to overcome her reluctance. Many who
admit the noble work a woman may do in
relieving suffering among her own sex by
her medical education, and her enhanced
usefulness as a member of society, feel
that somehow she is less lovable, less
womanly. because of it. In one of the
novels of the day, which by its virility
of thought seems deserving to be classed
with mere enduringliterature, “ Lal.” by
William A. Hammond, the author makes
Theodora Willis, 9. sort of secondary
heroine, whose father, a physician, has
educated her in much knowledge not
usually accessible to women, use the fol-
lowing language in conversation on this
subject:

“ ‘I have dissected several human
bodies,’ she said, gravely and deliberate
1y, as though measuring the im ort of
each word, ‘and I have never one so
without feeling'that the act was one of
awful majesty, not to be undertaken
lightly. I have always felt that there be—
fore me lay a temple in which God had
placed, and from. which he had taken
away, an immortal soul; that, only a few
hours before, it had been moving about
on the earth alive, its heart beating. its
brain replete with thought, that now it
was helpless, dead, and at the mere of

all who might approach it with or

 

 

evil intent. To seek with reverence to
understand its wonderful mechanism, to
come before it with the spirit of truth
and knowledge, knowing that it was
made in God’s own image, never caused
me to feel that I had degraded myself,
either in my own estimation or in that of
good and intelligent men and women the
world over.”’

This it seems should be the feeling of
not only women, but men, in the presence
of the dead. Pure-minded, fenced about
with faith in themselves, and impressed
with the greatness of the science to which
they have devoted themselves, the old
prejudices must fall, and old barriers be
broken down. In old times dissection was
deemed impious, and the thunders of the
Church were directed against those who
disregarded the injunctions religion im-
posed. Medical students learned the
anatomy of the human frame at the risk
of their lives, for an ignorant populace
was ready to tear them in pieces if it was
known. Knowledge, when sought with
a pure heart and virtuous aspirations, can
never debase the mind, but rather exalts,
digniﬁes and reﬁnes it.

___..._____

COOKING FRUIT FOR CANNING.

 

Mary A. Williams, of Pontiac, wishes
to know whether the water in which cans
are immersed to cook the contents should
boil rapidly or just come to the boiling
point. An. article on canning fruit, in
Harper’s Bazar, says:

“ The most expeditious way to cook the
fruit is to place the wash boiler on the
stove. with a little water to prevent burn‘
ing. Place clean shingles across the ledge
of the boiler; on these set the cans. Pour
in slightly warm water till it comes with-
in an inch of the caps of the cans. Bring
the water quickly to a boil, and keep at

After the fruit is cooked the jars are taken
out, unscrewed to let out the hot air and

steam, rescrewed and then set away to

cool, the tops to be ﬁnally tightened be-
fore putting away. The following table
tells how long to cook each sort of fruit:
Cherries and whortleberries, ﬁve minutes;
raspberries and currants, six minutes;
blackberries, strawberries, peaches in
halves, and gooseberries, eight minutes;
plums, sour apples in quarters, wild
grapes, and pie-plant, ten minutes; pine-
apple, ﬁfteen minutes; Bartlett pears, in
halves, twenty minutes; crab—apples,
twenty-ﬁve minutes; small pears whole,
thirty minutes; quince, sliced, thirtyvﬁve
minutes."

Unfortunately the above list includes
no vegetables, but we fancy tomatoes
would not need cooking more than ten
minutes, ﬁfteen at the most.

The following recipe for French cream
candy is commended to our friend: Take
four cups of sugar to one of water. Boil
eight minutes in a bright tin pan without
stirring, and as much longer as is neces-
sary to cook it hard enough to roll into a
ball. Then take from the ﬁre and beat
With a spoon, adding vanilla or peach
ﬂavoring asit begins to cool. Chopped
raisins, currants, hits of ﬁg or citron or
nut meats may be mixed with the cream.

-—-——¢eo-———-

A VERY little cream of tartar in the
frosting for a cake will hasten the hard-
ening process. If the knife is often dip~
ped into water while spreading the frost-
ing, it Will give a gloss or polish greatly

 

to be desired.

that temperature till the fruit is cookedu

BLEACHING COTTON.

 

Mrs. Fellows asks whether the method
of bleaching cotton goods by dipping
them in a solution of chloride of lime,
will not injure the fabric. My experience
is that goods can be bleached quickly and
safely in that way if they are not left in
the chlorine water too long, and are thor-
oughly rinsed. A good deal depends on re-
moving every trace of the chlorine, which
is the bleaching agent. The goods must
be frequently inspected to see how the
whitening process is progressing. I had
a white pique dress which,was very badly
mildewed by being left on the grass too
long, and every trace of mildew was re-
moved by soaking it a few hours in water
in which chloride of lime had been dis-
solved. It was rinsed in three waters,
and afterwards survived to be made over
until Ibegiu to wish it had rotted a little.
I should not hesitate to use the chlorine
water if I desired to do so. BEATRIX.

-——QOO———

IF milk is brought to the boiling point,
then poured immediately into cans and
sealed air tight it will keep indeﬁnitely,
As the air is expelled by boiling, the milk
keeps just as canned goods do. If glass
jars are used they must be heated so that
the boiling milk will not break them.
Many families keep but one cow, and this
plan will enable them to have milk dur-
ing the weeks that she is dry.

11‘ YOU' WANT
Profitable Employment

SEND AT ONCE TO

THE NEW lAMB KNITTER $0.,

For Full Information.

An ordinary operator can earn from one to three
dollars per day in any community in the Northern
States on our New Lamb Knitter.

100 Varieties of Fabric on Same Mac/Line.

You can wholly ﬁnish twelve pairs ladies‘ full-
shaped stockings or twenty pairs socks or mittens-
in a day! Skilled operators can double this pro-
duction. Capacity and range of work double that
of the old Lamb knitting machine. Address

The New Lamb Knitter 00.,
117 and 119 Main St., west, Jacxsos. MICK,

 

 

 

    

#
be returned by

The our 0038“ made that can

its purchaser after three weeks wear. it not found
PERFECIH géTIPFAsTom

"1 "82’5mequ a. gamma .m- M

gene‘s .ﬂanula Beware of worthless imitations.

 

uin unl it has Ball’s name on the box.
“35.5365 0%?‘831’ 60., Chic-.0. I".

 

 

       

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

