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DETROIT,

JULY 9,

1892.

 

 

THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement.

 

 

MOVING DAY.

 

Up before the sun is peeping.
Up while happier folks are sleeping,
Pounding. pushing. pulling. tugging.
Wrapping. packing, piling, lugging,
Hurry ing here and hurrying there.
Dire ( onfusion everywhere.
Standing in the midst of chaos.
Questioning. “Does moving pay us?"
Looking round us in dismay—

Such is moving day.

Diawing tacks and boxes nailing.
Meshing thumbs and wildly wailing.
Shaking carpets. packing dishes.
Making unavailing wishes,
Waiting for the tardy dray—

Such is moving day.

When at length the day appearing.
Hurrying men the rooms are clearing.
Standing. then, with some foreboding.
Watching them while they are loading,
Giving caution. wondering whether
Such things e'er were piled together
As they’re piling on that dray—

Such is moving day.

Shifts the scene, tut still we're tugging.
Pushing. pulling, piling. lugging.
Hurrying here and hurrying there.
Dire confusion every where.
Standing in the midst of chaos.
Questioning. "Does moving pay us 3’“
Looking round as in dismay—

b'uch is moving day.

"Piecing” carpets, turning under—

Do they ever ﬁt, I wonder?

Wrestling with the stovepipe soot y,

Getting many “spots of beauty."

Working in a desperate way—
Snch is moving day.

Weary limbs and smutty faces.
Things in most unheardoof places.
Much-soiled garments, broken dishes.
Vain regrets and useless wishes,
Bighing doiefnlly. lamenting
o‘er he many ills of renting,
Longing for a home abiding,
With no moving day betidin g.
Wealied out and blue and sleepy,
Oi! to bed disgusted. creep we.
Glad in sleep to ﬂee away
From the woes of moving day,

Such is moving day.

—— Good Housekeeping.

~——...—_—-

A‘ MOVING TALE.

I once heard a housekeeper say
during an attack of emotional insanity
induced by the spring cleaning: “I
hate this house and everything in it!

any human being could become so tired
of home as to long to destroy it. And
those who grow restive in familiar
scenes and long for change, who alter
the location of the furniture every
sweeping day and are always making
new combinations in the bureau draw-
ers so their husbands never know
where to look for clean shirts, ought to
live in town and enjoy the annual
hegira of May day. I don‘t- wonder the
anarchists and socialists choose the
ﬁrst of May as an appropriate date for an
outbreak. Anarchy and disorder are
in the air at that season.

The woman who perhaps opens her
eyes upon life and closes them in their
last long slumber in the same house, t r
who celebrates her golden wedding in
the home to which she wentabyide,
knows nought of the torments and
plagues of moving. The majority of
townspeople live in rented houses, and
never know at what moment they may
be called upon to move. Many live in
chronic expectation of such achange
and n;verseea vacant house without
investigating it with reference to its
desirability. “Poor Richard” said
“ Three removes are as bad as a ﬁre.”
If there’s truth in the saying, I’ve been
cremated a couple of times myself, and
many city families have been burned
out times without number.

But, when the choice of evils
points to moving as the lesser, if
you’re a business woman you straight-
way proceed to effect the change in a
business-like fashion. A card stating
your wants in a Sunday paper will
bring you a deluge of answers of all
kinds, from the uncnveloped scrap of
paper bearing two lines and an address
to the monogramed sheet, thoroughly
English in its get-up, and carrying a
whiff of its writer’s favorite perfume;
from the ill-spelled, worse-written
scrawl scarcely stating an intelligible
fact, to the prolix epistle of three pages
whose writer favors you with her
reasons for taking “roomers.” You‘d
think it any easy task to choose one
desirable place out of 35 offers of a

Iwish I could pitch all this old stuff . shelter, now wouldn’t you? But it’s

(meaning the furniture) ont doors and
get something that doesn’t antedate the
ﬂood? I believe I’d enjoy making a
bonﬁre of the house, too.”

' Being young in years and younger in ,

not as easy as it looks. When you
have sifted out those that are too far
from down town, in locations your
knowledge of the city tells you will be

 

undesirable without going to see, those

experience I did not understand how ' that are plainly out of reach by reason

a

of price, and those wretched scrawls
whose very appearance suggests boiled
cabbage and onions in the front hail--
when you’ve eliminated these you lint-I
fully three-fourths of your corres-
pondence is classed as unavailable.
Armed with a memorandum of streets
and numbers arranged so as to cover
the greatest number of points with the
least expenditure of shoe leather and
street car fares, and arrayed in your
most immaculate street dress~—for I
have learned that good clothes some-
how inspire people with confidence in
your ability to pay your rent—you no"
vote an afternoon to a search. At
night, you feel as if you could write a.
book as funny as any of Mark Twain‘s
but are too tired to do it. And ten
chances to one you have not found any-
thing half as deswable as your present
quarters, if you huvé grumbled regu-
larly at certain grievances and incon—
veniences. Your rooms never looked
so cosy and comfortable as they do by
contrast with the dull, dingy, some-
times dirty places you have visited.
And you sit down to sum up advantages
and disadvantages, and select at last
two or three and perhaps call again to
investigate further and ask more
voluminous questions, and wonder if
the base-boards conceal b‘b—gs or not,
and whether the family expresses its
feelings by slamming the doors. At the
last you “choose your choice,” and like
ordering a dinner at a poor restaurant,
whichever you take you wish you’d
taken the other before you are done
with it. The unparalleled ei‘frontery
of the room-renting ﬁend has literally
paralyzed you. A woman of a specular
tive turn of mind rents a house and
proposes to sub-let it in sections to
victims in the shape of “ ioomers.” She
calculates to pay her rent, have rcoms
for herself and family and the family
living out of what the rest of the house
will bring: in. Sometimes she does it and
sometimes i rejoice to say she doesn’t.
For an unfurnished “front alcove
room,” with a closet that wouldn’t ad»
mit the band-box of your theatre but
two seasons ago, she wants $15 a.
month; for a side room overlooking the
roof of her neighbor’s kitchen, with a
closet which she introduces to you as a
commodious bedroom, she will demand
$12 and «yet look you unblushingly in

 

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The ,Household.

 

house you feel profoundly grateful that
she did not charge you anything for
the privilege of inspecting it.
And when you’ve settled the ques-
tion of “Where," begin the woes of
packing. It's no work of supereroga-
tion to take stock of one’s belongings,
discard the superﬂuous and dispose of
the unavailable. How things do ac-
cumulatei After every removal I ex-
perience a period in which I ﬁrmly de-
cline to buy anything I cannot eat or
wear out. An awful epoch of clearing
out follows. You unload any quantity
of things you hope you will not need
again upon the washwoman and the
scrub-lady, and receive in exchange for
the cracked crockery and hole-v parasol
.a ﬂood of gratitude in broken German,
“So nice, so nice; So goot lady!” You
"i3.W” with the dealer in second-hand
furniture over the table and chairs
the new rooms will not accommodate,
and ﬁnally give them away outright
.rather than accept his absurd ﬁgure
for them. You ﬁnd the carpets won’t
.ﬁt; ditto the shades and the curtain
poles. Everything that should be long
is too Short, and all that ought to be
short are too long. The man who is to
move you at a certain hour fails to
show up, and you keep yourself and the
wires uncomfortably hot telephoning
to know why he doesn’t come and
when he will come. And after things
have been hustled down stairs and up
stairs again, and you’ve stood faround
and said in italics “Do be careful” as
the bookcase goes bump on one corner
and the bedstead gets a whack at an-
other, and had the stupid creatures
say “Yes’m” and go on bumping and
whacking; and when they’ve ﬁnally
cleared out and left you standing among
your possessions as disconsolate as a
shipwrecked sailor on a desert island,
you feel more like sitting down fora
damp but purely feminine saance with
yourself than proceeding to bring order
out of chaos. But it would never do for
a business woman to weaken like “or-
dinary femininity,” so you go to work,
only to ﬁnd the man carried off the
screws of the dressingbureau’s mirror
in his pocket, that your desk is minus
one castor, and that the tack hammer
was packed in the box that was nailed
up to stay and put up a ladder into the
attic. It takes all the leisure of a
precious week to get moderately
settled, and another week of trotting
round trying to remember new places
for things; and the furniture, that
looked so dainty and “ﬁt” in the old
home, looks overgrown or awkward in
the new, and you don’t like yourself a
little bit until you get shaped and
fashioned and adapted to your new sur-
roundings. Ten chances to one the
landlady who was smoother than butter
,‘ani sweeter than her own apple dump-
lings when you were a tenant in pros-
pective, develops an unmistakable
acidity of disposition and very emphatic
opinions as to what was and was not

 

“nominated in the bond " after you’ve
paid a month’s rent. She knows you’ll
bear a little bull-dozing after the
trouble you’ve had getting settled,
rather than break up and go through
it again. You know it, too.

And then afresh trouble arises. You
“take your meals out; ” after living at
lunch counters and restaurants you
begin to want a square meal again, and
skirmish for a boarding-place. It’s like
choosing a watermelon-you can’t tell
till you try. And trying almost kills
you, especially if you know you have a
stomach. Such cooking! Such greasy,
indigestible messes, such aggressive
butter, such diminutive slices of bread,
scarcely bigger than a postage stamp!
Respect for age should have spared the
chickens, and the Texas steer fresh
from the Lone Star State furnishes
your matutinal fragment of beefsteak.
And you’re expected to pay $4 a week
for it, too.

When you enter the new dining room
for the ﬁrst time and seat yourself
among a score of your fellow sufferers,
all strangers, all turning eyes of cold
scrutiny upon you—well, Iconfess these
the most embarrassing moments of my
life. I can face an audience of a-thou.
sand people without a tremor, but the
circle of glittering eyes, as stony as
the Ancient Mariner’s, rouses my wrath
as inevitably as a poultice raises
blisters. I have often thought of “the
mannerless sex,” as meal after meal I
have taken aseat among peogle of a
certain class—not well-bred enough to
dare to be polite —without even a
“Good morning ” or a nod of recogni-
tion, all intent on getting enough to
satisfy hunger and limiting conversa.
tion to “Please pass the sugar” or
“Gimme a spoon." And I could write
a volume of useful hints to intending
boarding-house keepers on “How to
Make 'Ilalf Enough Go Round,” and
“How Much Skinching will the
Average Boarder Bear.” To put six
pieces of bread on a table set for eight,
to so skillfully dispose six strawberries
in a dish that it seems decently full, to
cut cake to a shaving and put a grease.
spot on an individual butter-plate—
these are ordinary dodges by the side of
some I know. One way to make a
little go a long way is to put a pint of
sauce into a preserve dish and only set
on three or four dishesin which it may
be served. The bashful, the careless,
and the folks at the other end of the
table who don’t see it will not ask for
sauce, and there’s so much saved, you
see. But I’m not going to tell all the
tricks of the trade, I may have to keep
boarders myself some day.

BEATRIX.
, ANY one wishing to obtain pansy
plants can do so by sending name and

address, inclosing six cents in stamps to »

pay postage, to Miss Sadia Broughton,
Macomb, Mich, who will be glad to
send plants to any applicant until her
present supply is exhausted.

 

“ OUR ” CLUB .

T’was a lovely afternoon on the 24th
of June, and it seemed so much lovelier
because the weather for a'month had
been so abominably bad, with rain and
high winds. Work had been retarded
on the farms and the highways were
not as good as they might be. For you
see men can do their road work when
they cannot work on their farms, and
if the work is not performed in a real
business-like manner, it is a relief to
have it off their minds. As aconse-
quence the center of the road was piled
with sods, with rough furrows at the
edges, and a miniature pond here and
there. But if the going was bad it did
not make one bit of difference, for
when the little bronze clock in Mrs.
Maybee's back parlor struck the hour of
two, every member of “Our” Club
was in her place. To be sure it was not
such a very large Club—sixteen mem-
bers—but you must know that it is
rather a large Club for the rural dis-
tricts. It is not always a farmer’s wife
thinks she can leave her work and be-
long to an organization of any kind.
There were the wives of the doctor,
minister and storekeeper who lived at
the little town; they gave “tone” to
the Club, their ideas being slightly in
advance of the others. The minister’s
wife of course had a wide experience,
her husband being on the circuit they
travelled about considerable. The
doctor’s wife never tired of talking of
Boston, her birthplace being about
thirty miles from there. The store-
keeper’s wife was a New York lady,
and “the way we did things East when
I was a girl, before I was married,” was
always sandwiched in the conversation.
The farmers’ wives were all bright,
smart little women, with a good many
original ideas. and when they knew
any improvements on the old way, any
manner in which labor could be
lightened, were not backward in mak-
ing it known. ~

Today the discussion began on jelly;
in fact it was the only subject, for the
Opinions were so diversiﬁed. The
President gave her ideas, which, much
simpliﬁed, were as follows: First, the
fruit should be rather under-ripe to
have the best results. Currants, cher-
ries, grapes, berries of all kinds should
be thoroughly rinsed, put in a stone
jar, the jar set in a boiler or large
kettle of hot water and cooked several
hours, six at least, then turned into a
jelly bag. She liked one made of ﬁve
cent lawn, two thicknesses, eighteen
inches square, stitched twice at sides
and bottom, and a broad hem at the

‘ top; sew on some 100ps and have a

tie string of stout tape to suspend it by,
Let the juice drip out, never squeeze,
as this will cause the jelly to be cloudy.
Porcelain, agate or bright new tin is
the best in which to make jelly. Strain
the juice through another muslin
cloth into the kettle; let it cometo a

 

 


 

 

 

 

The Household. 8

 

boil and skim. The juice should be
previously weighed, not measured, al-
ways allowing one pound of granulated
or loaf sugar to a pound of juice. Add
the sugar after the juice boils and is
thoroughly skimmed, and in nearly
every instance the sugar will hardly
'have time to dissolve before one can
detect little particles of jelly ﬂoating
about. Remove immediately and turn
into ones or glasses; when cold tie
thick paper over, marking each variety
distinctly.

Large fruits should be put in a kettle
with just enough water to cover
and cooked slowly until the fruit
is soft, then proceed as with other
jellies. Qiinces are just as 2001 made
with sweet apples—half and half. One
member always used three-fourths
pound of sugar to a pound of juice, she
could not see any difference; and for
jellies for meats one-half pound was
sufﬁcient. Another 'said such advice
was misleading. She had tried it one
year; her jelly was sour, it shrunk in
the cups, an inch or more; it was
leathery. dark colored and unsatisfac-
tory. No. Four remarked that rasp-
berry jelly was not always ﬁrm if
made alone; one~third currant juice im-
proved the flavor. Peach jelly should
he often made; it is delicious. Add a
little lemon juice and a few of the
stones, cracked. No. Five always
added a little gelatine; one was sure
of a- ﬁrm jelly by its use. No. Six had
never been able to keep her jelly with-
out its moulding on the top; kept it in
the cellar. This was voted down; a
cool, dry place. upper shelves in the
pantry or closet being preferable. No.
Seven always run melted paraﬁne over
the jelly. No. Eight used cups and
glasses with metal tOps. One year she
found every cup molded and it spoiled
the taste of the whole. She put it up
as usual; turned the top; on while hot.
No one was able to explain why it
should do so. No. Nine heated her
sugar in the oven before adding it to
the juice. No. Ten did not allow it to
boil but for five minutes, turned it into
glasses and set them in the sun for
several days to ﬁnish, thought it was

. more delicate, ﬁner flavor, etc. No.
Eleven thought jellies were not used as
much as they should be in families, but
were kept more for company. No.
Twelve thought them expensive, taking
so much sugar. No. Thirteen said
when she could buy twenty-four pounds
of granulated sugar for one dollar she
should use all she wanted. Made
twenty—four pounds of currant jelly last
year and should make thirty-ﬂ ve this.
No. Fourteen said it depended on the
willingness of one’s husband to buy so
much sugar; she hadn‘t had a current
bush in her garden for years, and
never thought of making more than
eight pounds of jelly all told. One
xii-011m be prudent or extravagant in
such matters. No. Fifteen always

used jelly freely. also marmalades of.

 

different sorts; they were nice with all
puddings, meats. poultry. and the chil-
dren liked them on bread and butter,
and tarts. No. Sixteen remarked that
apple butter was quite good enough for
everyday use; she occasionally made
apple jelly from parings and c3res; had

,a nice red apple that made a ﬁne colored

and ﬂavored jelly; three-fourths of a
pound of sugar being sufﬁcient.

Remarks were made as to fruit drop-
ping this year, not much promise of a
full crop. Adjourned until fpur weeks,
when butter-making, care of milk,
prices, etc., will be discussed.

BATTLE CREEK. EV ANGELINE,

 

ON SUNDRY SUBJECTS.

 

I wonder if the HOUSEHOLD will
bear correcting; if so, the recipe for
Hermite, also the article signed
“Little Nell” should be credited to
none other than “Little Nan.” I will
forgive the little paper this time,
fancying its specs were not properly
adjusted.

I was so amused when I read the last
sentence of brave Alvena’s letter that I
re-read it to Aaron, who declared he
did not believe that husbands could ap-
preciate home without a‘good smoke
occasionally; howeverI avowed I would
never marry a man that drank, but

Cupid’s arrow had penetrated too deep;

e’er I was aware of the fact that the
one I loved smoked, still I do not lay
as much stress on that word as do a
great many. And the comfort some
men take with a paper and pipe makes
it seem almost cruel to deprive them of
that happiness.

Are any of the HOUSEHOLD wives
addicted to the habit of fault-ﬁnding?
I knew of a husband who made this re-
mark to his wife: “I believe I will
have to keep an account of the things I
do which constantly give rise to com-
plaining.” Now I really felt sorry for
that wife. for she had never realized
before how harrassing it must be, the
moment he crossed the threshold, to
hear complaining and fault-ﬁnding. To
apure, sensitive and affectionate mind,
every act of ﬁnding fault or condemna-
tion is an act of pain. “If thou would’st
bear thy neighbor’s faults cast thy eyes
upon thine own.” Never set yourself
to discover the imperfections of others.
Whenever you ﬁnd yourself making a
fault-ﬁnding remark, say your approv-
ing one in the same breath, and you
will soon break yourself of this habit.

My sympathy goes out to those tired
housewives who toil all day without
seeming to accomplish anything; the
same routine day after day, still they
must keep it up.

“ Live like other woman and rejoice.
I do npt sav. but time full well 1 know,
God gives unto His chosen ones no choxce."

I think Bruueﬁlle is getting just the
least bit excited over the discussion
that is being carried on in regard to
the dress reform. I had to smile
audibly while reading her article on

 

“Skirts.” I have an outﬁt much like
that she described, but I do not parade
around in it very much, for even the
dogs run, and the hens ﬂy; neverthe-
less I feel much more at home than I
should in trowsers.

I will say one word in regard to
mothers~in-law (leaving the fathers-in-
law until some future day. I think
mothers-in-law are an abused class.
They are represented as having a
censorious and quarrelsome disposition.
Ithink such statements originate with
those who are more or less inclined
in that direction themselves. If a
daughter-in~law does her required part
the mother-in-law favors her as she
would her own child. If the spirit of
amiability predominates in each heart
there will be no reception or admission
of anything that is liable to disturb the
equilibrium. However no house is
large enough for two families, as each
has a system of doing work, and
should these conﬂict there might pos-
sibly be an upheaval. I am so very
thankful that I am privileged to live
neighbor to my mother-in-law; there
is not a day but that she renders me
some assistance, and her patient and
loving ways endear her to all. Girls
miss a great deal in not being kind and
thoughtful to their husband’s mother;
let her see that you love and appreciate
her, and there is no end to the comfort
you will take. LITTLE NAN.

M'r. CLEMENS.

 

TE ACHERS AND PARENTS.

 

I was pleased with E. L. Nye’s letter
on expressions and their influence on
the language of children. I have known

teachers who were very remiss in their 4

language, and l have often followed
the noted expressions with the un-
spoken query, “How is it she is allowed
to teach school?" I think those active-
ly interested in the education of the
young in our public schools will do
well to “draw the line ” a little tighter
and keep more of the inefficient aspir-
ants out of the ﬁeld. It is a lamentable
fact that we have many persons teach-
ing, especially in our country schools,
who are not ﬁtted, either in education
or home training, for the vocation.
Young teachers there are, and have
been, in our schools who never thought
about making the occupation a means
of livelihood, until within a short time
of the launching of their bark on the
pedagogical sea.

I think every person who makes up
his (or her) mind that he (or she)
wishes to become a teacher, he (or she)
should give two or three years to the
careful, thoughtful preparation of the
mind to ﬁt- it for the responsibility that
will rest upon it, and the fulﬁllment of
a live teacher’s duty. Many questions
should be carefully considered aside
from the mere book knowledge re-
quired. A considerable knowledge of
the school laws should receive attention
and study that the rights of both pupils

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4

The Household.

 

 

and parents may receive proper respect.
Too many, especially our young teach-
ers, make the mistake in thinking that
the parents have no rights, so far as
their authority extends during the
school hours; that the teacher’s au-
thority is supreme and indisputable.
Such a stand causes many a “ripple”
between teachers and parents that
would be avoided if the teachers would
give thoughtful consideration to the
points of law on their own and parents’
rights and privileges. It seems to me
that ateacher who will talk disrespect-
fully of parents to said parents’ chil-
dren on any subject under discussion
in the school-room, is lacking in the
essential requirements of politeness
and good breeding, to say nothing of
the example it sets those children in
disrespect toward their parents.

Perhaps a discussion is in progress.
“Papa and mamma says I may drop
this study during the remainder of
this term of school." “ It doesn’t make
any difference what your papa or
mamma says, it’s none of their busi-
ness.” “But I've been absent and got
so behind the class thatI can not catch
up.” “W’ell, go in the other class.”
“What, that class! why I have been
over that so much mamma says it would
be wasting time to go over it again.”
“Well, your mamma isn't running .
this school. You’ll do as I say, I want
you to understand.”

Now what do I think of such a
teacher? Why, that there has been
something left out of her early home
training, and that she had better enter
some other ﬁeld of labor. We have no
use for such unless we care little about
our children's welfare, present or
future.

E. L. Nye, what do you think about
it? Let us hear from others too, who
are interested. SHIFTLESS.

-——-—-——-OOO-—-——-—

Wl ES BADE N S TRAWBERRIES.

Canned strawberries, imported from
Germany, sell at (ur large grocers’
establishments at $6 per half dozen pint
bottles. They are simply delicious,
retaining a greater proportion of the
strawberry ﬂavor than any other. They
are put up at Wiesbaden by the follow-
ing process:

You must have two kinds of berries,
one may be the ordinary fruit, the
other must be the ﬁnest, largest, most
perfect and perfectly fresh fruit. To
every quart of the ordinary fruit allow
half a pound of sugar. After the her-
ries are hulled, sift the sugar through
and over them, and let them stand in a
cold place over night. A low tem-
perature is imperative, to prevent any
possible fermentation. In the morn-
ing drain off the juice—not quite dry,
but leaving enough so the berries can
be made into jam or marmalade, thus
saving waste of the fruit. For every
half pound of sugar you have used,
allow half a pound of rcck candy. Put

 

this into the juice and let it boil ﬁfteen
minutes. In the meantime, have your
cans already tested, to be certain all are
perfect, and warm them. Set them on
a folded towel in a big 'pan, and turn
in an inch or two of warm water; ﬁll
the cans with the superior fruit, which
you have carefully hulled, raw, re-
jecting every imperfect or bruised
berry. Pack the fruit as solidly as you
can without jamming it, packing and
shaking it down, pour on the boiling
syrup, and seal immediately. Keep
the cans in a dark place. This is said
tobe the exact manner in which the
imported fruit is put up, and if care-
fully followed according to directions,
to be safe, the fruit keeping perfectly.
To can pineapple, slice it or pull it to
pieces with a fork, removing the core.
Add a pound or a pound and a quarter
of sugar to a pound of pineapple. Let
stand six or seven hours. Have your
cans ready-always test before ﬁlling—
and can the pineapple. Yes, without
codking, and cold. Put about a table-
spoonful of sherry or brandy on top of

each can and seal, being sure the cans
are full. If you do not use the liquor
cuta paper to ﬁt the top of the can,
and after dippingit in alcohol, lay it on
top of the can. and put on the cover.
——_‘..———

A FEMININE FARMER.

 

I have no husband to ﬁnd fault with
or children to wail over their numer-
ousness, and as I have had my say
about long skirts, I really think I shall
be obliged to write about something
else. It is so rainy today I am obliged
to be indoors and will tell tell those of
the HOUSEHOLD who wish to hear
something about my farming and
ﬂowers.

I work a sixty-acre farm in the
eastern part of Michigan, all myself.
Our household is all women, no men
snooping round our habitation and
ﬁnding fault with meals and starched
shirt-bosoms. I’ve had enough of that
in the days gone by.

I feel proud when I walk out over
the ﬁelds and look at my bank, as we
call the different crops. It is all my
own handiwork. I have seven acres of
wheat that will holdits own against
my masculine neighbor’s. The present
year I am preparing twelve acres for
wheat. I have all kinds Of farm crOps
in splendid growing condition, and not
a day’s work hired. I love farm work;
it is second nature to me. The farm is
to me like a child that I have watched
and tended and seen grow year by
year more beautiful, and I can not bear
the thought that I may be parted from
it. There is that about farm life
which is elevating if people will only
see it. Watch the tiny blade as it
springs from the earth, and as it grows
it is like the mind, grasping all that is
adapted to its individual growth and
development till it reaches the perfect
state.

I suppose farmers who are only after

the almighty dollar never stop to-
think of the beautiful in their occupa»
tion. I think if some of those dis

couraged farmers’ wives would just let
some of their work go, bake fewer pies,
cookies and doughnuts and such really
unnecessary articles, and make the men
do with plainer food until cooler'
weather, they would look at the world
as a brightenplace to live in.

I never expect to have or enjoy knic k-
nacks during the summer. Perhaps
some of our hustling members will
think we are a very shiftless family,
but they would change their minds
were they to see us once. The house-
keeper here is never run down and blue
as an indigo bag.

I always make my bed and care for
my room the same as when I was board--
ing in town, so that much does not fall
on the mother. I also do all'my own
sewing and mending, and that is no
small item. You see I don’t have to
go and sit in the grocery and tell yarns,
or sit on a fence-rail and gas with all
the men who come in my way. My
spare time is devoted to my ﬂowers,
which are too lovely to describe. If
those of the EOUSEHOLD who cannot
get pansies to grow only lived near me
I could give them all the plants they
could use. I threw away as many as
ﬁve hundred plants only a. few weeks
ago, that would soon have bloomed. Six
years ago I had twenty-three different
varieties in one bed; they beat all the
ﬂowers I ever saw and I have kept.
them ever since.

Bruneﬁlle has hit it exactly. it's the
everlasting “they say” that prevents
women in general from doing as they
wish. I have worn short skirts ever
since I began farming, but they get in
the way just the same and “rile my
disposition ” exceedingly sometimes.

I’ve seen many such cases as Shiftless
describes; they are in the majority,
consequently like the moth and the
candle I take warning by my fellows
who get singed and keep away from
the ﬂames. SALLY WATERS.

A MISSION Sunday school in need of"
Sunday School papers and cards may
hear of a small supply by addressing—
the HOUSEHOLD at once.

.__....*_

“ IGNORANCE," of Rochester, says her
father has taken the FARMER for a
great many years, and that she is sure
she could not get along without the
HOUSEHOLD. She very much desires
a recipe for cream puffs, and hopes
some HOUSEHOLD reader will furnish
one. _

EASY enough to can fruit. The great
‘thing to remember is that the cans
must be screwed air tight while the

contents are boiling hot. Use as little
water as possible in cooking the fruit.
Fill your cans even full, screw on the
tops at once. And if you have perfect
cans and good rubbers—and it’s sinﬁtl
waste of fruit and time to use any other

 

—“ you’re all right” and so is the fruit.

 

