
 

 

 

DETROIT, SEPT. 12, 1891.

 

 

THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement.

 

 

GOO D—BYE.

 

A kiss he took and a backward look.
And her heart grew suddenly lighter;
A triﬂe. you say. to color a day. _
Yet the dull gray morn seemed brighter.
For hearts are such that a tender touch
May banish a look of sadness:
l A small, slight thing can make us sing,
But a frown will check our gladness.

 

The cheeriest ray along our way
Is the little act of kindness.
And the keenest sting some careless thing
That was done in a moment of blindness.
We can bravely face life in a home where strife
No foothold can discover,
And be lovers still if we only will.
Though youth’s bright days are over.

Ah. sharp as swords cut the unkind words
That are far beyond recalling;
When a face lies hid ’neath a cofﬁn lid,
And bitter tears are falling.
We fain would give half the lives we live
To undo our idle scorning;
Then let us not miss the smile and kiss
When we part in the light of morning.
—San, Francisco Call.

 

ABOUT BOOKS .

 

Priscilla asks us to name some good
0 new novels. I do not knew of any par-
ticularly good ones that are new; in
fact, I am rather inclined, myself, to
follow the advice of the literateur who
recommended us to read no book not at
least a year old; meaning that time is
the test of merit and that the book
everybody is talking of to-day-(by virtue
of much advertising) may be dead stock
on the bookseller’s shelves long before
the year is up. Does anybody ever
mention “Robert Elsmere” now’days?
A book that has intrinsic merit is never
quite forgotten, but the largest book-
store in the city has not had an order
for Robert Elsmere in six months.
If Priscilla has not read Jessie Foth-
ergill’s “The First Violin,” she will

doubtless enjoy that pretty musical
romance, second only to Auerbach-‘s
“Charles Auchester.” Miss Fother-

gill died at London last July. “ The
First Violin ”was her third novel, but
it was by far her best, although she was
the author of a dozen or so.

I have recently read Amelia Barr's
“Bow of Orange Ribbon; ” was much
pleased with it. It is a story of New
York life in early Colonial times when
the Dutch element was largely in the as-
cendancy in business and society. I like
it better than anything else Mrs. Barr
has written. It is interesting to know
that Mrs. Barr made her literary repu-

.Brighteyes,” Rider Haggard's latest.

tation after she was ﬁfty. years old and
she had brought up a large family of
children—a round dozen, I believe.
“Feet of Clay ” is another story by this
author, published ﬁrst in the Christian
Union, which is very good. “Prudence
Palfrey,” by T. B. Aldrich, is old, but
is one of the sweetest of New England
romances. To those who can appreciate
delicate imagery and subtle humor, it
is full of quaint beauty and interest.
One cannot help recognizing the de-
licious satire with which the author
portrays the reverence in which Puri-
tan maidens hold their spiritual pastor
and master—especially if he be young,
handsome and unmarried, and what a
zest these qualiﬁcations in the preacher
give to religion.
I wasted a few hours over “ Eric
Without wishing to accuse the author
of plagiarism I confess it reminded me
strongly of William Morris’ poem
“Sigurd the Volsung.” Brighteyes is
an Icelandic Sigurd, and Gudruda and
Swanhild recall Brunhild and Gudrun.
“Whiteﬁre ” is as marvelous a weapon
as Sigurd's gleaming “ Wildﬁrez” there
is the same “witch mother ” and faith-
less brother. And I don’t think Mr.
Haggard has improved on his model.
The latest book I have had in hand is
“The House by the Medlar-Tree,” by
Giovanni Verga, a story of Italian
peasant life and the decline of the
Malavoglia family. It is a sad story,
but then, as Howells says in his pre-
face, “life in a ﬁshing village is always
sad‘,” there is much poverty and mis-
fortune, and one regrets the unhappy
lives of Mena and Alﬁo Mosca. The
literary style is the perfection of artis-
tic simplicity and in it is half the charm
of the book. ‘
I very hastily skimmed Captain
King’s latest novel, “Captain Blake,”
and found it quite as good as anything
that popular author has given us. His
theme of course is army life, and he
gives us glimpses of the way Uncle
Sam’s boys in blue live on the frontier,
and of the little squabbles and scandals
among the women; and we learn how
dreadfully important matters of eti-
quette, trivial in themselves, become
when women haven’t much else to talk
about. All the mysteries are very

pleasingly cleared up after the requisite

marries the pretty girl who has been
“saving up for him," as jolly “Dick
Swiveller” says, in a glory of white
satin and wedding march.

I am much interested in three serials
just at present, although I do dislike to
read a book on the installment plan—
the story is sure to stop at an intense
moment and you have to wait a month
to know how the characters get out of
their dilemma. I am watching Howells’
handling of “ An Imperative Duty" in
Harper’s Magazine, because Ionce knew
an instance in real life where the cir‘
cumstances were nearly the same, the
faint trace of African blood in the veins
of a beautiful girl making her dismiss
the handsome, high bred, wealthy man
she loved because she knew that in his
eyes and according to family prejudices
it would be accounted a disgrace, and
she would neither confess the truth or
marry him without a confession. Se
she mated with one entirely beneath
her—for women must marry in the old
days, you know—and was comfortably
wretched all the rest of her life.

In “The Faith Doctor,” now running
in The Century, Edward Everett Hale
treats of the problems of Christian
science and faith and prayer cures.
From the romance of Phillida and
Millard many lines of thought_
radiate, each a separate study to
the reflective mind. “Miss Eleanor
Arabella Bowyer,” who “were good
clothes Without being well dressed,”
is a fair sample of the average faith
cure doctor who is in the business
for the money there is in it, and wants
to ally'herself to society to reach the
moneyed class who can pay for being
humbugged. And in “According to-
Saint John,” by Amelie Rives-Chanler,
now running in The Cosnwpolitan, and
which is as Rives-y as anvthing this
peculiar author has written, I am
curious to see the outcome of a story in
which a young girl falls desperately in
lbve with a married man, has the
c'olossal cheek to confess the fact to his
wife, and who, after his wife is dead and
a decent interval has elapsed, will not
marry him because he does not love her
as passionately and intensely as he did
the buried wife. Women are queer;
creatures—according to the Rives--
Chanler exposition of their disposis
tions. I haven’t found out what Saint

 

 

thrilling suspenses, and Captain Blake

John had to do with the affair yet,
either. BEATRIX.

 


2 The Household.

 

AT BAY VIEW.

 

One of the features of this season’s
issembly at Bay View was the Press
31ng of which the Petoskcy Resorter
mid: “Bay View has a press club
hat is as diﬁerent from any other
areas club in the world as it can be.
Phone: is only one man in it and he says
leisgoing to get out of it, if he can.
The ladies are journalists from all the
centers and cross-roads in Michigan
and Indiana, and have spent many sum-
were in recording how ‘John Smith is
painting his back fence,’ and how ‘ Bro.
Jones laid an egg on our desk last
week.”

In spite of all this some pleasant

hours were spent by those who were
ﬁms minded, and plans were made for a
school of journalism for another season.
The newly elected president is a' lady
whose name has appeared in the
r :olumns of' the HOUSEHOLD more than
(mce, and one who is well qualiﬁed for
‘ ;he position. We are already looking
Lerward to-the meetings and anticipat-
ing the many pleasant things to be con-
nected therewith. Wish we might
meet other HOUSEHOLDERS there and
in: some way know each other. The
best and most proﬁtable hour was 3.
Elk given by Dr. Buckley, editor of the
New York Christian Advocate. We all
enjoyed and appreciated his remarks,
even though he has published things
about women in conference matters
that have caused quite a ripple in
Methodist circles, but we forgave him
‘ all. that, partly because we had no
interest in conference and more because
of his “taking way” in such talks, and
of his very interesting and instructive
Bible lectures in. the Auditorium.

The closing days were as rich as any
on: the programme there; in fact the
last three evenings’ stereoptican lec-
tures by Roberts. Harper, of London,
England, were above criticism. Noth-
ingbetter was ever seen there.

A? long—to—be—remembered “beach
service,” very different from the im‘
pressive Sabbath evening meetings,
was when acompany of right congenial
spirits packed their lunch baskets and
went down on the stony shore, gather-
ing dry cedar chips for the quick ﬁre
that gave ﬁne coals for cooking. Each
onehad a long, slender stick and on
these we roasted ears of corn for the
ﬁrst course of our supper, then apples,
Bananas and marsh-mallows, in turn;
these being supplemented by hot coffee
and lots of good things. Our table was
alarge box drawn from the water fer
the purpose, and we found that it came
all the way from Egypt with articles
ibr the museum, thus making the

occasion the more romantic. As the .5

sun sank from sight in the water and
the shadows. settled arouil u; we
watched the large boats come in laden
with excursionists with whom we often
exchanged greetings by the waving of
Mdkerchiefs, and when the lake

 

breezes were too cool for comfort we
climbed the stairs to our respective
homes on the beautiful terraces that
give Bay View its ﬁne natural situa-
tion. Just the place for a resort, and
many people think so.

The home coming where vegetation
is so luxuriant and fruit so abundant
with no drouth and no blight of frost,
seemed like being transplanted to an-
other world, and no one can understand
with what the settlers of northern
Michigan are contending in the way of
drouth, frost and forest ﬁres unless they
go and see. It was a subject of wonder-
ment as to how they could gather
enough in some localities to live upon
until the next harvest.

ROMEO. EL. SEE.

 

BLACKBERRYING—A REMINISCENCE.

 

Paterfamilias made the announce—
ment at the dinner table that there
were blackberries back in the woods
pasture, and armed with atin pail (only
a small one, for I didn’t propose to take
a large one and get but a quart of ber-
ries), I set forth the next morning in
the direction of the woods.

The small boy of the family had also
declared there were blackberries to be
found in that same woods pasture; and
to prove the assertion had actually
brought a quart to the house in his din-
ner pail, while he inelsted that there
were “lots of ’em;” that he had his
pail full when he started from the
woods, but you know they do “settle
so ” after one starts for home.

Away I went down the lane to the
mill-yard over the dam, where in my
girlhood days I used to ﬁsh for min-
nows and wade in the shallow water
where it tumbled over its stony bed
after having passed in a miniature
Niagara over the dam. I didn’t stop to
ﬁsh this morning, and the other amuse-
ment of childhood days has, like many
more, lost all attraction. On I go over

the hill, at the top of which I pause to .

look back, like Lot’s wife, although
there the similarity ceases.

It is a pretty picture—that which my
eye compasses as I glance over the way
I have come. The mill, whose busy
saw is silent this morning, with the
sparkling water of the pond lying so
still under the glare of an August sun;
the'trees overhanging its borders, bend-
ing sometimes almost to the water’s
edge; the ﬁelds of oats now fast falling
before the conqueror of the harvest
ﬁeld, while the clever ﬁelds are sweet
with their Second bloom. Ah, it is to
me indeed a sweet picture and memory
takes me quickly back to childhood,
when every place was associated with
some pleasant recollection. Here is the
spot where we set our tiny tables, sister
Fan and I, with acorn cups and saucers,
with beech nuts for cake and spring
water for tea. There where now the
drain tile discharges its crystal stream
into the trough for the cows to drink,
we used to dig in the mud, forming a

 

miniature mill pond for the water from
the spring to ﬁll, building 'our dam of
twigs and clay, a goodly percentage of
which we deposited upon our aprons, of
course. And there, ah me! not so
pleasant a recollection, is the place
where in springing across the ditch in
pursuit of wild ﬂowers I missed my
footing and fell screaming into the
water, whence I was helped out by my
father, who was not far away, and given
aride home in the wheelbarrow, Fan
tagging along behind until he took
pity on her and put her in beside me.
But the blackberries, oh yes! Well, I
reached the woods at last, but where
were the berries! There used to be
berries here; ah, just here we used to—
and oh I go again. I must have been in
a peculiarly reminiscent mood, for my
mind kept wandering back to the old
times. We used to go a-berrying here.
The old landmarks are now all cleared
away, but in imagination I am a child
once more, roaming the woods for
berries, and ﬁlling my basket more
often with pretty moss and shells, roots
of strange pretty plants, squawberry
vines with tiny red berries, than with
the fruit for which it was intended. .

Thinking about it so intently made
it seem so real that I half expected to
hear Fan’s, “Found any berries?” as
we used to call to each other. But
as I stretch forth my hand after a
refractory branch, 3. golden circlet upon
the third ﬁnger of my left hand catches
my eye. It has worn for itself quite a
path below the last joint of my ﬁnger
in the years that it has been there.

Girlhood days are far behind! and a
voice breaking upon my ear at that
moment helps to dispel the illusion.
“ Mamma!” it says, “ did you ﬁnd the
blackberries? ”

Did we have blackberries for tea that
day? Well, I managed to divide the
amount around, and each of us had a
dish of berries, but they don’t taste
nowadays as they used to. And isn’t
that the way of life? Things don’t
seem as they, did to our childish minds.
No pleasures equal those that are gone
with our short dresses and “ shingled ”
hair. And yet this is a fact that you
can not impress upon the mind of your
child today. To him life will be really
enjoyable only when he is grown up.
And right here is a point we must not
forget—to look at their world through
their eyes. Grown folks are so apt to
forget that they were ever children, to
be unsympathetic and call it “ all fool-
ishness.” It is a good plan for such
people to think once in a while of how
they used to do. The pranks and jokes
that seemed then to be no end of fun,
they are quite apt to denominate non-
sense and foolishness now. Very true
perhaps it is. vet who would rob child-

hood of them? In fact those who get the
most happiness out of this life are those
who take the ability to have fun—that
is, innocent, harmless fun—all along
the path of life with them.

FLINT. ELLA B. WOOD.

 

 


The Household.

8

 

FROM ONE OF THE GIRLS.

 

Our HOUSEHOLD (Aug. 29th) came
last evening, and seeing M. E. H.’s
.article, I read it with great interest
and a little indignation. I, as a work-
ing girl, dependent upon employment
in an ofﬁce, can not help but say a few
words in defense of our class.

I think there is too much said by the
press in general as regards the
“pretty type-writer girl,” “the type-
writers you can hold in your lap,” etc.,
.and suppose it is the same as regards
all girls working in ofﬁces; consequent-
ly a great many ladies have a mistaken
idea about us. I am sure you will think
with me that a lady may be a lady
wherever she is, and that it is not nec-
essary there should be half adozen girls
in one office to be sure there is no flirt-
ing going on.

Perhaps M. E. H. has personally
known of acase where a girl did not
.uphold her dignity, but let me assure
her this was an exception. I am a
stenographer and typewritist, and know
many young girls who act in the same
-capacity, others as bookkeepers, clerks,
etc., and I do not know one who is
not ladylike in her deportment and
commands the respect of her employer.

As regards stuffy, dirty ofﬁces, very
likely there are many such, but I have
been employed in an ofﬁce where who-
ever entered remarked upon the cool-
ness and cleanliness of the rooms.

To quote M. E. H.: “Is it the place
for one girl in an ofﬁce where the rest
are men?” Yes, if the business ﬁrm do
not need but one stenographer or book-
keeper, and this one girl is fortunate
enough to secure the situation; you
need not fear for her. She will be con-
sidered a gem in that ofﬁce. There
will be more than one oath and angry
word smothered in her presence, which
‘were she not there would be spoken.

Perhaps I am rather young to write
for the press, but upon the above sub-
ject I think I know whereof I speak.

FORT WAYNE. Ind. ALICE C. D.

 

HELPS FOR THE COOK.

 

A good way to make fritters is to take
‘three eggs; three cups of buttermilk:
.one rounding teaspoonful of soda, and
a little salt; stir in ﬂour to make a stiff
batter. Have the fat hot and fry, dip-
ping in a spoonful at a time.

Fried cakes can be made as follows:
One cup of sugar; one egg; one cup sweet
milk; one teaspoonful of soda and two
—of cream tartar. Stir stiﬁ with ﬂour;
drop a spoonful at a. time in hot lard and
fry. Sometimes I use baking powder.
‘They make pretty little balls when
rolled in ﬁne sugar.

. One way of doing up ﬁne shirts is as
follows: For two shirts take three good
~teaspoonfuls of starch and one-fourth
teaspoonful of pulverized borax. Dis-
solve in one cup of cold water and add
.a drop or two of bluing. The borax

 

will prevent the starch from sticking
and make the shirt bosom glossy. In
starching the shirt bosom turn wrong
side out and dip in the cold starch; roll
up and let stand for thirty minutes;
then take a damp cloth and rub all the
starch off from the outside of the bosom
and iron, rubbing out wrinkles with a
damp cloth. 2. W.

MILFORD. _
-——...__

ABOUT TALE-BE ARING.

 

I join with Beatrix, heart and hand,
in saying: From a gossiping neighbor-
hood “Good Lord deliver us!” How
absurd for one neighbor to tell another
what is said about her! And often
tattling is so exaggerated beyond the
truth that it gives rise to very bitter
enmities. It is so much easier to start
an evil report than to stop it. Even
after a rumor has been proven false the
harm it has done cannot always be
undone. Before repeating a bit of gos-
sip, it would be well to ask ourselves
three questions: .

First, “Is it true?”

Second, “Is it kind? ”

Third, “ Is it necessary? ”

This practice would be sure to save
us from many bitter memories and re'
grets. I now recall to mind what I
once read:

The pious Philip Neri was once
visited by alady who accused herself
of slander. He bade her go to market,
buy a chicken just killed and still
covered with feathers, and walk a cer-
tain distance, plucking the bird as she
went. The woman did as she was
directed, and returned, anxious to
know the meaning of the injunction.
“Retrace your steps,” said Philip,
“and gather up, one by one, all the
feathers you have scattered.” “I cast
the feathers carelessly away,” said the
woman, “and the wind carried them
in all directions.” “Well, my child,”
replied Philip. “so it is with slander.
hike the feathers which the wind has
scattered, your words have been wafted
in many directions. Call them back
now, if you can. Go, sin no more.”

LIMA, N. Y. L.
——.O.——_—

THE FALL FASHIONS.

 

The merchant’s windows are quite as
good indices of the changes of the sea-
sons as are the thermometer and weather
reports. With cheerful alacrity he re-
moves the summer’s muslins and laces
to make way for autumnal novelties and
the very Latest in jackets. So, when the
“ summer girl” has counted her scalps
and packed her trunks and conveyed
her tan and freckles to town, she ﬁnds
“ the sweetest loves ” of things all
ready to distract her mind from r‘egret-
ful contemptation of bucolic joys in the
past tense, and she begins to plan her

tion for oysters at the same time.

The new goods are emphatic illy
“novelties.” Most of them are rough-
surfaced, ﬁeecy looking cloths, loosely

 

woven. Some are in heather mixtures
marked off in plaids; others are smooth
surfaced with zigzag lines forming V’s,
through them; others again have a
smooth weave with shaggy spots as
large as the top of a teacup, called pas-
tilles, upon them, while another fancy
has loose irregular flecks scattered on
alighter ground; there are also those
having a marbled effect. There are in-
dications that much lighter colors will
be worn this year for winter, as light
shades of gray and beige. Among the
darker colors, a reddish brown called
chestnut, a purplish-red and a gray-
blue, are popular. And plain colors
are always a safe and reﬁned choice.

In standard materials, cheviots, suit-
ings in small broken plaids and
checks, camel’s hair and Bedford cords
are the leaders. The latter goods is
especially liked in black, the ribbed
effect being an agreeable change from
the smooth Henrietta and camel’s hair
worn so long.

So far as indicated by the early pat-
terns, there is no especial change in
the manner of making up. The plain
close-ﬁtting skirt with the fullness
massed at the back and front bordered
by one or two ruﬂies or a ruche, and, the
elaborate corsage with vest, revers, gir-
dle and what not, and the coat skirts
which obtained the past summer, still
lead. Sleeves are moderately high and
full on the shoulder, and alas that I
must tell the folly of my countrywomen,
the “dip” in the back of the skirt still
aids the street-cleaning brigade.

The new jackets are half-long, and
light colors, tan, gray and beige, pre-
vail. Nearly all have the high rolling
revers-cOllar, lined with fleecyfur, with
a waistcoat. They are very handsome
and not to be bought for a song. Capes
hold their own but are lengthened con-
siderably, and many of them are hand-
somely embroidered. A beautiful wrap
seen at Mabley’s was of beige cloth,
with high shoulders and fitted back, its
only trimming the graduated steel
cabochons which studded it.

Hats for early fall wear repeat in felt
the fantastic curves and ﬂutings of the

summer’s straws and nwusselines. They
are low and ﬂat, and the trimmings
perk up in the back in the style which
has lost its terrors through familiarity.
Trimmings are velvet ribbons, jet and
gold ornaments, and autumnal ﬂowers.

 

A LADIES’ magazine give these direc-
tions for freshening a black lace skirt.
We give them for what they may be
worth. but advise those who try them
not to interpret the assertion about
looking “ like new” too literally: .“ Re-

move the lace from the foundation
skirt, and steam it over a large pan of
hot water to which ammonia water has
been generously added, and a few drops

; of cimphur liquid. Then dip the lace
fall campaign and cultivate her aﬂ’cc« -

lightly into a second water, in which
has bJBal h piled two old black (dressed)
kil glows: stretch out the fabric
smoothly to dry. When rehung over
the foundation, your lace will look like
new.”

 


 

4:

The Household. .

  

 

 

OUR IDLE MOMENTS.

 

A correspondent of an exchange re-
cently gave directions for making some
elaborate rick-rack, which work she
commended because it was such nice
“ pick-up-work,” could be caught up
when one had from two to ﬁve minutes
to wait; and said it is truly remarkable
what the application of odd moments
can accomplish, and again; “If she—
the woman—will apply none but these
odd moments of waiting in making rick-
rack, the reward of her efforts will ex-
ceed her highest expectations.”

Very likely—in a rick-rack way. But
what’s the matter with resting while
you wait? For my own part, I do not
believe in this gospel of perpetual
activity which is so much preached to
us, and which makes us employ every
moment of our waking hours in some-
thing expected to improve the mind or
cultivate .our industry. We have
“ texts” to say while we are doing our
back hair and “golden thoughts” while
we button our boots; “Half Hour
Series” and “Leisure Moment” book-
lets for the train and the station and
while we wait in our friend’s parlor;
and now rick-rack for our “two or
three minutes" when we ought not to
try to do "anything but wait and rest.
We live in a breathless hurry which re-
minds me of nothing so much as the
scramble that follows the "' ten minutes
for refreshments” in a railway eating-
house; and like the traveler who makes
three bites of a sandwich and a piece of
pie and goes away feeling as if he had
swallowed a paving stone, we cram our-
selves to death trying to do everything
any idiot who chooses to rush into print
with advice he would not act upon for
one moment himself, tells us to. And
in the meantime, from this ceaseless
strain, this constant, unrelaxing effort
to live up to what our multitude of
counselors tell us. we ought to do and
be, women all around us are breaking
down from nervous 'p‘rostration, becom-
ing hopeless invalids, or mentally un-
sound, because they do not know when
they have had enough of even a good
thing.

I believe in the gospel of rest. Rest
for mind and body. Change of occupa-
tion is an imperfect form of rest, and a
desirable one if not carried too far. But
to be rushing from one thing toanother,
doing a little of this and a little of that,
is not the way to either rest or accom-
plish anything. One “text” crowds
out another; one literary aphorism
treads on'the heels of another so that
both become obliterated mental impres-
sions, yet the brain was called upon for
its share of effort.

There are times when the best and
wisest thing any human being can do is
to rest, absolutely and entirely. Ab-
solute inertia of mind and body, a let-
ting go of everything to do absolutely
nothing, while physical and mental
forces are reviviﬁed by inaction. We

 

are not machines, yet they say even
steam engines get cranky and will not
do good work if they are run too many
miles without a rest. If sinews of steel
need such relaxation, how much more
ﬂesh and blood nerves and muscles!

I always like to see the tired woman
drop into her rocking—chair to wait a
few moments for the kettle to boil or
the men to come to dinner, her hands
idle in her lap, her eyes tranquil, her
mind untroubled—I hope—resting her-
self in these few precious seconds.
These little intervals are all that enable
her toperform the multitudinous duties
of every 'day. How long could she
stand it to rush hurriedly from one
thing to another, with not a momentary
pause to collect herself?

The expenditure of strength is in
direct ratio to the rate of speed; work
at a high pressure is more than twice as
exhausting as the deliberate perform-
ance of the same toil.

You may say the ﬁngers become so
accustomed to knitting or rick-racking
that the work is purely mechanical
Yes, but still it is work and it is tiring
and 1t taxes the brain as well as the
ﬁngers. Life, dear ladies, is endurable
without rick-rack. I never owned or
made a yard in my life, yet I live and
enjoy fair health. And often, when
tired by a busy day at the desk, I go
home, sit down in my easy chair, shut
my eyes, relax evcrv muscle, try to
think of absolutely nothing, and in an
hour, perhaps in half an hour, am ready
to go anywhere or do anything. So
may you rest and revive, under the
same method. BEATRIX.

 

ELDERBERRIES.

The average housewife doesn’t take
much stock in elderberries, especially
when other fruits are even moderately
plenty. And sometimes she does not
know how to use them to the best ad-
vantage. A New York lady furnishes
the American Cultivator the following:

" For making elderberry pie, the red-
stemmed variety is considered far su-
perior to the green-stemmed. It is
needless to say that they should be
thoroughly ripe. Free them from stems
and wash them. They need the ad-
dition of some acid, to give the char-
acter. Some use vinegar, but acid fruit,
like green grapes, which are in season
at the same time, is preferable. Sour
cherries or plums also make a delicious
combination with elderberries. In fact,
any sour fruit, or even boiled cider,
could be used. Cook the elderberries
before using. Proceed as with any
berry pie, adding sugar, a triﬂe of but-
ter, a pinch of salt, a Spoonful or more
of ﬂour. Bake thoroughly, to make the
juice thick and rich.

"‘ The best way to put up the fruit for

winter use is to can it, using nine
pounds of berries, three pounds of
sugar, one pint of vinegar or boiled
cider, or add sour fruit to the taste.
Boil them an hour and then can.”

,silk in buttonhole stitch.

 

TEE BABY’S FIRST SHOES.

 

A correspondent of the Rural New:
Yorker says: “Baby’s ﬁrst shoes when
he went into short dresses were soft
dainty things without stiff soles, for
baby cannot creep yet. From these it
would have been easy to shape a pat-
tern, but I preferred to copy a pair of
moccasins brought from the west by his
father years ago. After ﬁtting a pat-
tern made of old cotton to baby’s foot,
I cut the various parts from heavy'
chamois skin, ﬁnishing about the ankle
with scallops ﬁrst cut with the scissors
and then worked with blue embroidery
Instead of
bead work on the toe piece I embroider-
ed a small spray of ﬂowers, and lest the
soft foot-wear stretch out of shape,
added a lining of blue satin, cutting it
enough larger than the chamois to
allow for turning in where it was nec-
essary, and ﬁnishing the two edges to.
gether. Blue ribbon was used. for ties
at the ankle.”

“”—

nousnnonn HINTS.

 

TWELVE pounds of peaches, six
pounds of sugar and one pint of vinegar
is a good proportion for pickled peaches.

 

C RIPE peaches may be economically
pared, says the Rural New Yorker, by
pouring boiling water over them and
letting them stand till the skins will
slip oﬁ' easily.

 

THE skin of the plum is peculiarly.
acrid, even bitter. In putting up this
fruit it is a good idea to put the plums
into boiling water till the skins crack,
turn the water off and then cook the
plums in a sugar syrup.

“4 —— v'

Contributed Recipes.

 

CREAM FBITTEBS.—On8 cup sweet cream;
whites of ﬁve eggs beaten stiff, two cups of
ﬂour; two teaspoonfuls of Royal baking
powder; one salt-spoonful of salt; a little
nutmeg. The batter should be thick enough.
so it will drop easily from the spoon; have
the lard hot; a spoonful of batter for each
fritter. Fry a golden brown; eat with maple,
syrup, or current jelly. Do not pile them,
butserve them on small plates.

 

CURRANT FRIITERs.—Two cups of ﬁne dry'
bread crumbs; two tablespoonfuls of ﬂour;
two cups sweet milk; one-half pound English
curl-ants; ﬁve eggs whipped light—whites
and yokes separately: one-half cup of pow-r
dered sugar: one tablespoonful of butter;
one-half teaspoonful of cinnamon and nut—
meg mixed; two teaspoonfuls of Royal
baking powder. Fry in hot lard. Eat hot,
with cream and sugar, maple syrup or wine

sauce. EVANGELXNE.
BATTLE CREEK.

 

FBITTEBS.~0D€ egg; one cup buttermilk;
one tablespoonful of sour cream; one even
teaspoonful of soda; ﬂour to make the batter
a little ﬁrmer than stirred cake; a pinch of
salt. This [amount will make all that will
lay on a dinner plate and stay light.

OLD Housman-area.
PABSHALLVILLE.

  

 

