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DETROIT, MARCﬁv 1.6, 1889.

 

 

TH E [-10 US Ell-i O LID-"Supplement.

 

OUR NEIGHBORS PI/ Y.

 

That day our little one lay dead
And we were sad and sore of heart.
And all the joy of life seemed ﬂed.
Our neighbor s-iught to ease the smart.
Oh, strange, sweet power of sympathy:
That grief should ﬁnd assuagement thus!
Our sorrow seemed the lessto be, i
The more we thought, she pities ust

And then she said, how blest wrs she,

Since God had still denied her prayer,
Nor set a baby on her knee,

For such a gift means such a care!
Our pain was stilled by Sud surprise,

New feelings in our hearts d'd stir,
We looked nto our neighbor’s eyes,

And pitied her—and phied her.

—I). .11. Henderson.

-w— N...

THE ABSORBING QUESTION.

It seems early to begin to think and
plan for spring suits and bonnets, but
“tempus fugits” rapidly, and the wise
woman will get some parts of her spring
sewing “off her mind” before the annual
domestic upheaval. “’6 already have hints
of coming styles and materials, and the
” white sewing ” being out of the way, may
safely begin to remodel old dresses and
make new every day ones, waiting for
later advices from fashion’s head centre be-
fore doing more than deciding on the color
and material of our Sunday best. For to
dress well on little money, a good deal of
study and calculation must come in play.
What we have left over from last year
must harmonize with what we buy new
this season, and the plumes or ﬂowers that
must do duty again will inﬂuence our
choice of the dress to be worn with them,
for we would avoid colors which in juxta—
position may be said to “swear at each 1
other.”

The mention of white sewing above
’reminds me that I saw a ladies’ night
dress recently which was bought at a late
marked down sale here, for nineteen cents!
True, it was short and scanty, and the
buttons would likely wash off the ﬁrst
time and the buttonholes were machine
made and not well done at that, but dear
melone has no legitimate right to expect a
bolt of cotton and ﬁrst class sewing for
nineteen cents. I looked at that garment
in astonishment; the material was of good
quality, it had a frill of lace round the
neck, and though it was in size only ﬁt for
a girl in her teens, it seemed as if the goods
alone, with Lonsdale muslin at nine cents
a yard, was worth more than the price
asked for the completed garment. And as

 

 

_ Ill-MINI: I‘M/{x}

‘ you all know the virtues of soapbark as a

away and I thought I saw a tenement house,
garrct, with a hollow—chrgeked woman bend—
ing over her sewing machine. sewing to
keep body and soul together, and paid—
wcll, how much do you suppose the maker
would get fora garment sold at retail for
Another thing, while I think of it. Do
cleansing agent? I do not know how it
works on colored goods, but on black wool
and silk it is “ simply superb.” Being
purely a vegetable product it does not affect
the color in the least. Black wool goods
should be washed with soapbark and
pressed with warm irons before quite dry;
silk, after a thorough sponging on both
sides, should be pinned down on the carpet,
as you pin down lace curtains, and when
taken up will look as good as new. Try it,
if you are skeptical. A hot iron should
never touch silk; it takes the life and beauty
from it quicker than anything else.

If you have a pretty silk or wool skirt
with a worn-out basque that you “don’t
know what on earth to do with.” make one
of the new waists which are called
“ blouses" though they do not at all re-
semble what we have heretofore known as
such. It should be made of silk, colored
to wear With black, or of some comple—
mentary color for service with colored
skirts; and often the best parts of an old
silk can be very economically used in This .
way. The waist is made like a tight-ﬁtting
basque, except that each side of the fronts ,
and the centre of the back are laid in folds
or pleats. It is a triﬂe longer over the hips
than the basqucs we have been wearing, .
slopes to a rounding point front and back, .
and has a two-inch belt. The pleats cover ,
a space of about three inches on each front, E
and are sometimes narrow, and sometimes

 

three narrow ones again, all turning for-

middle back forms, there being no middle

back seam. The sleeves are

one prefers,
shoulder.
colored silk, in the window of one of our
bazars, was voted “real sweet” by the
feminine gazers. Cashmere makes very
pretty blouses or house waists,- also.
seen here had three clusters of four very
narrow tucks on each front forming a yoke;

 

on fl u ‘ o I l Hall ‘J faded

   

. -. back was also tucked in clusters. The

- l
three narrow ones, then a wrder one, then

ward—or toward the buttons: in the back, ,
the‘pleats turn toward the centre of the

full, andr
gathered to a wide semi-loose cull", the full- :
ness being massed at the outer scam; the l
sleeves are plain at the armsize, or if {
gathered a little on thei
Such a waist of (lark wine—l

fullness thus resulting was} conﬁned under
a belt. below whizh it was laid in larger.
forward-turning pleats. Another, also
very neat and tasteful, had a yoke-shaped
smoching, front and back. lligh plain
collars are on all these waists.

An old material under a new name, the
mohair alpaca of twenty years ago known
now as “ brilliantine,“ is one of the newest
and most popular fabrics. It drapes
beautifully, has a lustre like silk, (lust slips
off its shining, smooth surface “ like water
off a duck’s back," and it is 46 inches wide
at a dollar a yard, in very good quality.
If the new brilliautine wears as did the
mohair alpaca of an earlier date, a dress of
this material is a good investment. It is
much more popular than Henrietta, and is
much liked for traveling dresses and
redingotes, became of the manner in which
it sheds dust.

Satteen, they do say, is “ outz" reason—
the difficulty of getting it properly “done
up” and the fact that the cheap imitations
at a shilling and ﬁfteen cents, crowded out
the "genuine imported French satteens"
at thirty-ﬁve cents. lt promises to be a
“ gingham year,” if one may judge from
the quantity displayed everywhere.

BEATRIX.

-—-——§OO—-———

CULTURE OF THE CACTUS.

A. B. C., of Ann Arbor, has a cactus be-
having as many another done, until it has
been said that variety never blooms un-
til seven years old. Yet I have known this
plant to ﬂower in much less time, proving
that cactus as well as many plants give
cuttings that (lower more readily if taken
in or near ﬂowering time, and from the
upper or most ﬂorifcrous part of the plant.
Any part will bloom in time, but who likes
to wait if not necessary. This ilatlcavcd
or cup cactus is, 1 think, a variety of
I’lu'llocm'rus and has been common for
many years, but after it has bloomed once
it is a quite persistent bloomer. The
plant does not require a great amount of
room for roots, and still should not be pot
bound. So the change was well made last
fall. Now begin to water gradually, add—
ing soot occasionally and increasing the
quantity and temperature until so you can
just bear the ﬁngers in it. If the soil is

. good, I think with this treatment it will
,blossom. The drainage should be char-

coal and broken crooks or brick, and for so

One 1. large a plant plenty of it.

i A cactus should be planted in rich, mel-
l low garden soil, witha generous mixture
'of coarse sand and old, well rotted cow

 


  
  

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2 THE HOUSEHOL1|

 

manure. If the plant is now in a similar
compost, make no change; if lacking sand
or fertility, remove some from the box and
replace with the part needed. I confess to
liking tin for cactus and fuchsias, and
bedding them out in partial shade; and I
like them to grow old and large in my ser-
wice.

Cactus plants require careful handling.
:and when re-setting is necessary—which is
seldom—it should be done without dis-
turbing the roots unnecessarily. After the
(plant has bloomed let it rest undisturbed
'with only water when thirsty.

Although many regard the leaving cac-
rtus plants in the plants in the hot sun all
summer without water as the nearest ap~
mroach to their natural requirements, they
do not get very near the mark, for many
grand varieties are found on the summits
«of barren chalk cliffs while others grow
well in shade at the base in hard clay, again
others ﬂourish in arid sand, ﬁnding ample
sustenance. Still, like many other kinds
of plants, they do not object to more gen
eerous treatment when transferred to a
climate where everything is fed liberally.

In their growing season water may be
given plentifully in conjunction with per-
fect drainage, for stagnant water is death
do all succulent plants and an abomination
to all others. We must learn by experience
and from others better posted than our-
selves. We may believe that in cultivation
we may not always follow strictly natural
conditions. As one craze subsides another
takes its place to drive people wild.
Orchids and Chrysanthemums do not create
quite the furor they have done, the former
being only within the reach of money kings,
the latter for the moneyless or his majesty.
And so it may be with cactus; the ragged
urchin may be privileged to pick prickles
from his dirty ﬁngers as well as the dainty
lady. Judging from the present indica-
tions they will soon be with us in abun~
dance. The ease and simplicity of their
propagation and culture will shortly bring
the best and choicest within the reach of

all for pets, and very likely for proﬁt, as
the cactii are even now utilized by manu-
facturers of cordage, paper and oil.

an'rox. MRS. n. A. FULLER.
-————-40o-————
ADVICE TO YOUNG FARMERS’
WIVES.

{Paper read before the Farmers’ Institute at
Frfirmet, by Mrs. Martha M. Scott, of Hes-
pe a. .

Young wives, do you realize that the old
iarmers’_ wives are passing away? They
Shave born the burden in the settlement of
Michigan; but now where the lakes dash
aheir waves upon her shores, where the oak
spreads its branches and the pine sings a
requirem, many are sleeping beneath the
sod. Their Michigan was forest and
prairie dotted with settlers’ cabins; your
Michigan is fair as any of the older sister
States. They endured privations; you
«enjoy privileges and pleasant homes; they
have sown what you are reaping. Then
let us honor the pioneer mothers, and pray
shat the mantle of their virtues may fall
upon us. '
Youarecalledtoawider eld 1);: I

..

Your duties lie where civilization is ad-
vancing, and your inﬂuence will help to
outline the future prosperity of our nation,
not by working upon metal or marble, but
by stamping intelligence and virtue upon
the minds of the rising generation. The
crusade of the nineteenth century is against
ignorance, vice and want, and it is the duty
of farmers’ wives to march forward with
the crusaders; and never cease their eﬁorts
until agriculturists stand upon a higher
plane. Working to feed the world, it is
important that you also partake freely of
God’s bounty.

While farms are taxed to support schools,
see to it that your own children are edu-
cated. It is more important that all farm-
ers’ children receive a liberal education,
than that a few should be highly learned.
It is more important that the majority be
cultured, and owning pleasant homes, than
that a few should live in splendid mansions.

You belong to that great conservative
.class occupying the middle ground between
riches and poverty, and unless you stand
upon the sure foundation of intelligence,
you will be ground as between the upper
and nether millstone. Upon the industry,
intelligence and virtue of the children
whom you are rearing, to take the place of
the busy men and women of the present,
rests the solution of the problem of self
government in the future. Around the
farm ﬁresides the children should be
taught to be self-supporting and self-respect-
ing, able to hold in check the idle, intem-
perate and ignorant, and to perpetuate this
republic.

The motion in order along the line of
farmers for a higher manhood and woman-
hood, must be seconded by you. Your in-
ﬂuence for good is great as man’s, and you
ought to use it wisely. Your husbands
need companionship, counsel and help, and
they bear life’s burdens more easily if
aided by you. But while you study the
interests of your family, look also to your
own, and be a companion and an equal as
well as a housekeeper. The best Wives
take time for culture and recreation; the
best mothers teach their daughters to bear
part of the domestic burden. To bring up
a girl without a knowledge of housekeep-
ing, and with no ideas about money except
to spend it, is not only a disadvantage to her,
but is imposing upon the man she marries.
To allow a girl to leave her father’s house
without a thorough training in some occu-
pation by which she can, if necessary, earn
a livelihood, is a risky proceeding. Parents
die, riches take wings, and girls sometimes
make unfortunate marriages; then down at
the foot of the ladder your girl must strug-
gle for a scant subsistence, because. you
were remiss in your duty to her.

A noble manhood is not the result of an
idle boyhood, but idleness is often the
parent of vice, intemperance and crime.
Happily there is no danger of your boys
being indulged in this respect, but their
management isoften carried to the opposite
extreme. It is the mother’s duty to take
note of their industry and faithfulness, and
insist upon hours of study and recreation.
With proper management and with study

 

more reﬁned, grow to nobler manhood,
and from their ranks will come statesmen
and scholars, and possibly 9. Moses to lead
the people.

With improved machinery upon the farm
it is no longer necessary that boys endure
grinding labor, but they may become
skilled workmen. With creameries and
sewing-machines, and all the handy house-
hold appliances now in use, you can take
recreation with your daughters, visit your
neighbors, and drive around in country
lanes. You fail to appreciate the beauty
of your surroundings and to realize its
beneﬁts. You forget that your children
are growing up sound in mind and body,
and are being seasoned to bear the strain
of life’s work. Change places with the
wives of the average city laborer, live in
rented houses, buy everything you eat,
drink and wear, and you will long for the
old homestead surrounded by orchards and
grain ﬁelds, somewhat as Eve longed for
Eden after the fall.

The majority of farmer’s wives are look-
ing too much to their labors, and too little
to results. Is it nothing to you that your
children are working under ,, your own
management and direction, and not in mills,
mines and factories? Is it nothing that
they play in grassy meadows and by run—
ning brooks, surrounded by the beauties of
nature, and not subjected to the demoraliz-
ing inﬂuence of the cities, shadowed by
haunts of intemperance, vice and crime?

You forget that some of our wisest states-
men, governors and presidents were born in
cabins and bore their share of labor upon
the borders of civilization; and that a
woman more straightened in circumstances
than any of you, mothered Abraham Lin-
coln.

Labor is good for the young, and not
until we have earned something, are we
justiﬁed in eating bread with unmoistened
brow. If you manage well the household,
take care of the children,.and do all~a
farmer’s wife is expected to do, you do fully
one-half of the labor, and should be entitled
to half of the proceeds, but in some States
the law discriminates against you, giving
you only a life interest in one-third of the
estate, which you, equally with your hIIS‘
bands, have earned. This law is a disgrace
to our civilization and an insult to hard-
working wives and mothers.

And now, fellow laborers, carry forward
the work of educating the masses, for in
this direction will be feund the greatest in-
dividual and national prosperity. Take
courage, and remember one was called from
the plow to govern Rome, that Grant was a
tanner, Franklin a printer, and our Saviour
a carpenter.

..__...____.

Has not our little paper been unusually
interesting of late? Seems as if we could
all give a cordial assent to that. And is not
the reason to be found in the many short,
spicy, helpful letters which have ﬁlled its
pages? Continue to “do good and con—
tribute,” dear ladies, and 1889 will be a
“ star volume " of the Housnnom). If
each gives but a little of her experience

 

andlaboreombinedqourboyswﬂlheooms to n

   
 
  

4

and knowledge, the sum total cannot an
mun-.5- ,l, x . .

 

    
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
  
   
   
     
   
  
   
   
   
    
    
   
   
  
   
   
     
   
  
 
  
   
     
  
   
  
    
     
   
   
   
  
    
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
   
 

  


THE

A FEATHER MATTRESS.

 

Having had the beneﬁt of so many good
suggestions and recipes, found in our
highly prized HOUSEHOLD, I feel that I
would like to add my mite and tell the
' readers of a new bed I have lately made,
with which I feel well pleased, considering
it is very comfortable and also economical.
My husband procured at the poultry dress-
ing establishment in the village, a barrel of
hens’ feathers, at a cost of thirty-ﬁve cents.
These we washed thoroughly, putting
them through the wringer, and spread on
the chamber ﬂoor to dry. When quite dry
we put them into a bed-tick, taking care to
spread them very evenly, and then I pro-
ceeded to tie them as you would a com-
fortable, only not quite so close; as the re-
sult I have a mattress of which I feel proud,
and others beside myself pronounce it very
agreeable to spend the night on. When
done it weighed thirty pounds, although
one would not think it so heavy, as it is not
very thick.

And I also wish to tell you how I make
delicious apple sauCe, which my husband
pronounces better than preserves: Take
any nice apples and pare; if large I quarter,
if small I halve, and drop into hot syrup,
cover and let stew until tender, but on no
,_ account stir. I only stew a few at a time,
with little syrup, so when they are done,
and cold, there will be scarcely any syrup in
the kettle. Dish into sauce dishes, Sprinkle
with sugar, and dip on top a generous a1-
Iowance of whipped cream—or thick cream
not whipped is nice—and you have a dish
of which you will feel proud.

I believe with A. H. J. in regard to the
corset, and hope she will continue her siege
against them. And I shall certainly try
some waists made after her plan, for I be-
lieve they would be splendid. I agree
with Mrs. Annie J enness Miller, that we
have enough bones inside us to support us
without borrowing from the whale.

Hoping my call is not too long for the
ﬁrst one, I will close, with long life to the
HOUSEHOLD and its Editor.

Tncnussn. VENI.

AN IRONING BOARD.

Is there one of the HOUSEHOLD readers
"who would like to know how to make a
board for ironing shirt bosoms on? If so
then this letter is for her. Material needed,
a short board (hard wood if possible) and an
old oyster can or any other scrap of tin,
and some screws. The board should be
planed and of the following dimensions:
Length eighteen inches, width eight inches,
thickness One inch: cover this with bleached
muslin, drawing it very tightly around the
board so there shall be no wrinkles, and
with carpet tacks fasten it ﬁrmly. You
will also need a strip of board eight inches

' long, two inches wide and one inch thick.
Notice the length of this and the width of
the other are the same, eight inches. Now
from the tin with an old pair of shears, cut
two strips four inches long and three-

fourth of an inch wide, rounding the ends.‘

Place the length of the smaller board close
to the width of the larger one, which will

HOUSEHOLD.

  

3

 

turn these upon their edges and fasten to-
gether with the tin and screws. Of course
with a nail you will have to puncture holes
through the tin for the screws to enter.
Cut another piece of tin ten inches long and
one inch wide, bend in on each side about
a quarter of an inch and hammer dowu,
this will prevent its cutting the hands.
This piece of tin is to be fastened on the
other end of the board, like the bale to a
pail. In order to do this, ﬁrst bend the
tin in a half circle and at each end turn out-
ward about an inch of the tin to put your
screws through. This handle will serve to
hang it up by, and also to button the neck
band around to hold the shirt in place.
When you are ready to iron, slip the
shirt on the board, button the band around
the handle, turn the smaller board upward
and the lower end of bosom, or if that does
not reach it—the shirt—tuck in between
the two boards, and turn the smaller board
down. If preperly done this will draw and
hold the bosom straight while being ironed.
”I am not a ﬁrst class artist, but if you
can not understand this description without
a drawing, I will send one to any address.
J ANNETTE.

—_...__—_

CURTAINS.

 

Mill Minnie asks what material win be
suitable for pretty, cheap curtains in an
old-fashioned farm-house where there are
no blinds. Also, how should they be made,
full double curtains opening in the middle,
or looped from one side, and what trim-
ming, if any, and how put on.

We assume the windows will be rather
small and probably placed pretty well up
from the ﬂoor in an old-fashioned house;
also, that they will be provided with plain
Holland or paper shades. Now no art can
convert an old-time farm homestead into a
Queen Anne cottage, so we want the fur-
nishings to be in harmony with the house.
I think there was nothing so suitable and
pretty for just the purpose which Mill
Minnie would serve, as the simple em-
broidered Swiss and muslin curtains which
alas, went out when the imitation Notting-
ham lace became so cheap—and common.
But these cannot be found now, and
next best is the dotted Swiss, which in this
city can be bought for 40 cents a yard, 1 1-4
yards wide, or 25 in narrower widths. The
dots are generally a little larger than a
nickel. There is a cotton canvas, or scrim,
'at 25 cents, which is pretty for that pur-
pose; and then a great variety of scrims
and muslins with open-mesh stripes at from
a shilling to 20 cents. They are narrow
however, nor would they do up so well as
the Swiss, which, though more expensive,
would prove in the end the best invest-
ment. A pretty way to trim the Swiss
would be with a three-inch rufﬂe, straight,
gathered enough to ﬂute or crimp nicely,
and made of plain Swiss. The 25 cent can-

vas scrim would be pretty with a border of
drawn work, or a ribbon run through a
space where threads have been pulled,
while the open-mesh scrim would need no
trimming, unless one wished to add alace
edging. If common, seveneent cheese-

 

make the whole length twenty inches, turn

boiled Turkey-red calico, or three bands
three-fourths of an inch wide, set on their
width apart, would make aneat decoration.
Cheesecloth makes very soft, pretty
draperies When new, but people will starch
it when it needs doing up, and that spoils it.
I would not use poles for such simple
draperies, nor on such small windows. Get
your big brother, or a carpenter, or some-
body, to saw out for you as many pieces of
board as there are windows, each piece
being about two inches longer than the
width of the Window, so that each end of
the board will project about an inch be-
yond the casing. Have it about six inches
wide in the middle, curving to a point at
the ends; and paint it, cover with white
paper, or even with old cotton cloth tacked
on; nail the straight'edge to the window
casing, against the wall, run a shir in the
top of your curtains, leaving a standing
ruﬁie 2 1-2 inches wide, run in a Shir-string,
and tack your curtains to the board; part
them in the centre and loop back gracefully
under El See’s ropes or ribbon bands, and
4—there you are! One of the prettieSt little
farm parlors I was eV‘l' in, had curtains
put up in this way, a neat ingrain carpet,
cane chairs and a comfortable lounge, and
the furnishings struck one at once as being
in perfect harmony with the low, ramb-
ling, time-beaten house, which was like
Washington Irving’s in being “as full of

angles as a cocked hat.”
BEATRIx.

 

INDIVIDUALITY IN BELONGINGS.

I don’t know what those who believe in
the “ one towel enough for two ” or half a
dozen, would say to what I have just been
reading on the subject of one bed none too
much for one person, by Dr. Felix Oswald,
who is one of our most eminent eastern
physicians. For my own part, I would as
soon wash in the water another person has
used as wipe on the towel he—or she—has
consecrated to his own use. Fastidious‘l
Well, perhaps; I was “brought up that
way.” A community of belongings may
do for some people, but—excuse me! Dr.
Oswald says: “ Our congregation beds
are a sad barbarism. The eﬁect of the
direct communication of disease germs by
tainted respiration is by no means conﬁned
to the development of pulmonary dis-
orders, and in the course of months a
sickly child is almost sure to transmit the
diatlmz's of its ailments to all its bed fel-
lows. A child can be accustomed to sleep
on the lightest pallet, but that small bed
should be his own. Farmers have, in
this respect, the inestimable advantage of
elbow room, preferable even in the shape
of barn room and woodshed room, to the
stiﬂing closets of a city tenement. Yet
how rarely is that advantage appreciated?”

Think for a moment of how children are
often crowded “ three in a bed"; how they
are put to bed with the old grandparent,
who has “lung trouble,” or catarrh, or
bronchitis, or at best by a low state of
vitality robs the younger and more robus
of a portion of strength by that subt I
electrical receptivity brought on by perso v
contact? """ —"'

 

cloth were chosen, a plain band of oil-

    

: My ideal sleeping—apartments for a f Fm!

 

 


    
  

   
   
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
   
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
   
   
    
  
    
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
 
   
 
 
  
  
   
    
  
   
 
  
  
   
   
 
   
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
  

 

 

 

 

 

      
  

THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

 

ly would consist of large well ventilated
rooms, with a single bed or cot for each
occupant. Each cot should be furnished
with a woven wire mattress for summer,
covered with athick cotton comfort or mat-
tress, to be supplemented by a hair or husk
mattress in winter. Such beds would be
light, cheap, convenient, easy to handle—-
you can pick one up in yourarms and walk
off with it—and the bed-clothing could be
thoroughly aired and beds remade with lit-
tle trouble. There would be no light
sleeper disturbed by the restlessness of some
sturdy one who “plays horse ” by night as
well as by day.

Somebody will rise up to say this will
make too much washing, but I do not see
it so. The same number of pillow-slips
will be required, since each has one pillow,
and the sheets for such small beds must
necessarily be enough smaller, so no more
cloth is really washed.

I entirely agree with A. II. J. in her
reference to the “family comb.” To me,
one’s toilet appliances should be held her
own peculiar property, to be handled by no
other person. 1.. C.

Drrnou'.
———ooo———-

YOUTH AT EIGHTY.

 

[Read before the Farmers’ ins itute at Oxford,
Oakland Co.. Feb. 28m, by Mrs. A. [1. John-
son. of Thomas ]

The most of us here today have passed
the care-free joys of childhood, the ro-
mance, folly and possibilities of youth, and
from the central plane of middle life look
forward to old age. What are we going to
do when we reach it? If we reach it, I
should perhaps say, as none of us know
whether our work here will be ﬁnished to-
morrow or reach out into the future for
W a century. But while we should bear
in mind the possible brevity of life to make
us tender and considerate of those about us;
anxious to do to-day what the hand may
not be able to do tomorrow; we should
never let the thought paralyze our ambi-
tion to make the best of our abilities; or
defer plans for an extreme age. As a rule,
the farmer works too hard while young and
too little when old. At the rate he drives
himself he knows he will break down at
ﬁfty. What then? Why, he will conclude
he is too old for any enterprise. Nothing
is worth while any more; even false teeth
and a good suit of clothes would probably
be left to beneﬁt some one else, and he set-
tles down to a sluggish existence, wherein
he eats, sleeps, ﬁgures up interest, tests the
many varieties of patent medicine, and
waits for death. Rural life gives us many
advantages for physical and mental health
and longevity; fresh air; quiet intimacy
with nature’s beauties, and occupations
which more than any other leave the mind
free to wander at its will. Yet we seldom
ﬁnd among us a cheery, bright old person.
But when we do, I think that we always
ﬁnd him interested in something outside of
himself; that he has something to live for,
something to do, somebody to love; for
these form the talisman of perpetual youth.
Action is life. The untnxed muscle be-

there is none more proliﬁc than the intui-
tive knowledge of dormant powers for
good. We have plenty of proof that age
and decrepitude may be made strange in-
stead of synonymous terms. In the old
world two premiers have passed their
“ threescore and ten.” M. DeLesseps at
eighty-nine mourns the failure of his Pana-
ma scheme with all the abandon of youth;
and Rosa Bonheur, the great artist, at sixty-
sevcn, has had brought to her ﬁelds in
France a herd of wild horses from our
plains, and works ﬁve hours per day on a
picture of them which she expects to make
her masterpiece. On our own shores,
Bancroft, born with the century, takes his
morning canter on horseback, no matter
What the Weather, and spends the re-
mainder of the day at his desk hard at
work on a. history which he will require
several years more to complete. Elizabeth
Cady Stanton, who tells usthat for a dozen
years, while her family was small, she sel~
dom ever read a newspaper, can, in her
age, cross and recross the ocean to take g
captain’s part in the suffrage movement 0

two continents. And that wonderful man,
Peter Cooper! Harder worked, more
meagerly educated in his youth than any
of us! Did he think that what had done
for him was good enough for others? No;
up to his ninety-fourth year he opened
wider and wider to the poor the doors of
science, art and litef‘atii‘re; and to-day ex-
tends from his grave to thousands the
priceless boon of education. We read
that on the eighty-ninth birthday of this
noble man, he reCeived from the Institute
which bears his name the honorary title of
L. L. D. And in response he made a brief
speech which he closed by quoting from
memory twenty lines of Pope.

So it is possible to be young at eighty.
Our limbs may be weak; our voices trem-
ulous; our eyes dim; but if we keep awake
our mental powers, our sympathies and
affections, we mass within our immortal
selves the power of perpetual youth. The
great world may never hear of many of us.
Few can become historian, artist, architect
or statesman, but each has his little world
wherein his part may partake of the nature
of all these. If within this narrow circle
he does, as the little girl said of her doll,
“his sawdust best," no one can question
his nobility of purpose, but all must come
at last to pay that homage which our be-
loved grey-haired Whittier claimed from
his friends, to

“ Read between the written lines.
The finer grace of unfulfilled designs."

_———..._.——-—

INFORMATION WANTED.

 

There was in the little paper a year or so
ago, a way to mend cracks in stoves, but
it did not say if it should be done when the
stove is cold or when it is in use, as at this
time of year. It was salt and coal ashes.
Will any one who can, tell me the exact
process. ‘

I would like to ask Evangeline if her re-
cipes are all tried ones. We do not believe
in buckwheat either, but I make wheat

 

comes weak, the idle mind dull, and among

all the causes of dissatisfaction with ourself l only use an egg, two or three-times a week.

pancakes just aswe would with buckwheat,

 

This leaving enough of the batter to start.
with is much nicer than to begin afresh
every morning. If you like carrots, boil
and chop rather ﬁne, do the same with
white onions, then stir together with a
fork (not to mash them), plenty of pepper
and salt and a little butter; in the spring it
is a nice dish; serve hot. ' .
If A. B. C. will punch holes in the pail
in which her plant grows, about one inch
from the bottom, and put hot water in
any dish the pail will set into, and wet it
from the bottom instead of top. I think
the buds will come in time. A cactus
wants rest the same as so many other plants.
I put mine in a cold room all winter, they
have the light and Iwatcr at long inter-
vals, and as long as they do not freeze they
are all right. Last spring from the same
kind of cactus A. B. C. mentions we had
some 35 or 40 blossoms. '

Yes, A. B. 0., I use baking powder with
molasses and no soda; it is just as well.
Am: Aaron. S. F.

~00.———o-—-

PRESERVIN G BEEF.

 

J. B. Jones, of Otisville, wishes a recipe
for “ preserving beef so it will keep through
warm weather.” The usual brine “ pickle,”
which converts fresh beef into what we
call “corned beef,” is the only means we
know of whereby meat can be kept over.‘
Any of the usual recipes for rcorned beef
pickle will do this if care is taken to keep
it sweet by scalding occasionally. Should
the meat by chance become a triﬂe sour,
the fault can be correcteti'_by putting several
pieces of clean charcoal into the kettle
while cooking it. Salicylic acid has some—
times been recommended as a preservative,
but is usually censidered deleterious. Per-
haps some of our readers who have good,
tested recipes for beef pickle will kindly
forward them to the Housimom), for Mr.
Jones’ and others’ beneﬁt.

 

 

Contributed Recipes.

WHEAT -‘Akss.—One pint sour milk or but--
termllk; one teaspooni’ul soda; one teaspoon’
ful melted butter; one 688; one and a half
pints wheat ﬂt‘ur and a little salt. Stir the
soda into the milk until it foams. then add the
egg, ﬂour and butter. and last of all one
tablespoont’ui molasses (sugar will do.) If
you try them you Will find them delicious.

Conn CAKE—One egg: two tablespoonfuls
sugar; one cup Indian meal, two cups ﬂour;
two heaping teaspooniuis baking powder;
half teaspoonful salt; three taulespoonfuls
melted butter, and one pint sweet mllk. Bake
in gem pants, or in a square tin, as preferred.

GRAHAM Muratns.—Two teacupfuls sour
milk; one teaspoont‘ul soda. dissolved in hot
water; one tablespoont‘ul monasses: ha 1' tea~
Spoonful salt: three teacupi‘uls graham ﬂour;
one teacupful clean. fresh snow stirred light-
ly into the batter before baking. DIOD in
spoonfuls on a buttered tin or cake in mufﬁn
rings.

Roms—Two quarts IIJUI'; one tablespoon-
ful sug~r: four tablespoonfuls melted butter;
one teaspOOntul Belt; one teacuptul of yeast;
lukewarm water to mix toa dough stitr en~
ougn to knead. Let rise over night. then
knead and let rise again. When light. plane
in a chOpping-bowl, and with a sharp chop-
ping-knits cut ﬁne, then mold touetner and
let rise again. When very light form into rolls
Let rise one hour and thirty minutes in warm
place. the last time Only. if in an truer. Brush
top of.each~ With a little melted butter, or hot
milk, and bake twenty minutes in a hot oven.

 

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