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DETROIT, AUGUST 8, 1887.

 

 

THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement.

 

 

THE HUSBAND’S COMPLAINT.

These fearful, fearful days have come.
The hottest in the year;

I vowl l’m tempted to abscond
And never more appear,

Day in, day out, week after week,
The role of cook I’ve played;

So many loaves of bread, rusks, buns,
Pies, puddings, cakes, I’ve made.

Our men have healthy appetites,
They really gormandize,

The meals that daily disappear
Are monstrous for their size;

And if I even hint that it‘s
Precarious for this weather,

They think I’m stingy. and mistake
My meaning altogether.

There is no time to take a nap,
Much less to read a book,
And at the weekly papers
I scarcely take a look;
My lord and master says: “ Look here,
This fact I’ll demonstrate,
I got a wife to broil my steak
And dough manipulate.

“ To mend my shirts and darn my socks,
But, oh, the truth to own,

My shirts are minus buttons, and
My socks no heels have known;

Your mending-basket stands piled high,
The housework is neglected,

And the way your management has turned
Is not as I expected.

“ Such notions now as women have
Their mothers never had;

In the twentieth century I hope
Women’s Rights won’t be the ffad;’

For Woman's sphere lies right at home
To do her duty well.

She should not go to farmers’ clubs,
And her experience tell;

“ How to simplify housekeeping,
And how their fruit to can,

And how to make daisy tidies,
And how the house to plan;

And how to manage poultry
And how to flowers grow,

And how to manage hired help,
Girls are so scarce, you know,

“ And hired men are not refined;
What books our girls should read,
If they shall wash the butter,
Where they shall buy flower seed;
Shall women who have property
Unto their husbands yield,
The right and title of the same
0r keep their separate field.”

The husband often judgment lacks,
- His wife’s the better man,

Trust to her financiering,
Hers is the solid plan;

She’ll crack such nuts—yes, every time,
Experience bids me say;

To bask in radiant sunshine
Just let her have her way. ~

» EVANGELIN .
BATTLE CREEK.

 

IN A BOOK STORE.

Adry goods or milliner’s store has not
half the attraction for me which centers
in those more unassuming establishments
where books alone are to be found. Were
I desirous of obtaining a situation as sales-
woman, I should try all the bookstores be-
fore resorting to the lace or ribbon coun-
ter of a fashionable bazar. I love the smell
of a book store; the fresh clean odor of
paper, mingled with the mysterious fra-
grance of Russia leather,—mysterious be-
cause of the secret process of tanning, so
long and so carefully guarded—even the
more plebeian, leathery odor of legal “half-
calf,” has its peculiar charm. I like to
browse among the tables covered with the
very latest, fresh alike from the great press
and the author’s brain, like an epicure
daintily choosing the most deiicate morsels,
the freshest and richest crumbs of a liter-
ary feast. But best of all I like to en-

‘croach upon the realm sacred to the languid,

slow-going clerks, the privileged space be—
hind the counter, and look over the con-
tents of the crowded shelves, which hold an
attractive jumble of fiction and fact, poetry
and philosophy, science and “ slop.” These
shelves are the ultimate asylum of the
books which hold the popular fancy for a
moment, the ephemera of literature,-endur-
ing hardly for a'day. Asked after to-day,
forgotten to-morrow, they are relegated to
the shelves, where they get their corners
broken and their bindings faded, and finally
fall into a state of decrepitude known to the
trade as “shelf-worn.” One cannot but
moralize over the bright hopes of fame-and
profit, with which these ventures were
pushed out upon the literary sea, to sail
down the tide among the great and small
of their kind. How disheartening it must
be to find the little volume—one’s best and
brightest thoughts, and profoundest reflec-
tions, which the author and his partial
friends believed so fresh and original that it
could not fail of success, fall dead from the
press; dismissed with a few careless phrases
by the critics, or blasted by their sarcasms.
Though such is the public in its contrariety,
that even the sharpest satire or denuncia-
tion is better than to be “damned with
faint praise,” as Byron puts it.

It would seem that everybody writes
books nowdays; authorship is no distinction,
till one has won the public attention; and
where one succeeds, hundreds make dismal
failures. What author would not like to
emulate “BeuHur,” with its fifth of a
million copies already published, and its
translations into foreign languages? But

 

“Ben Hur” is notanew book; it grew
upon us slowly, and is read by a dilferent
class of people than those who seek a
moment’s diversion in the lightest of light
reading; or perchance choose books as did
the watering-place belle, who did not care
what book it was, if its binding harmonized
with the dress she would wear while she
read it. , ,

H. Rider Haggard, in the “Witch’s
Head,” makes one of his characters accuse
another of being “as dull as the dullest
thing in the work.” Then 'she asks him
what that is. He don’t know at first, but
finally wakes up enough to say that it
is “the American novel.” And a cursory
glance over the new “summer novels”—
which are supposed to be light and bril-
liant, to amuse and interest without requir-
ing mental effort in comprehension—makes
one believe he was right, and that the Ameri-
can novel is truly the “dullest thing on
earth.” “Bar Harbor Days” is perhaps the
brightest, but even it would put one to sleep
on a hot day. The narrative purports to be
written by a terrier dog, who takes wise
views of human frailties, but one don’t
want to put himself on adoggish level even
in the dog-days.

“Mr. Incoul’s Misadventure,” which
made the most stir, is hardly the sort of
reading one could commend; though its
siuations are dramatic it rather “leaves a
bad taste in the mouth.”

Everybody is reading Haggard nowdays.
Not to have read some of his books is to be
quite behind the times. Seventy-five
thousand copies of “She” have been sold
in this country, and in London alone 10,000
copies of “ Allan Quatermain” were sub-
scribed for before publication, while in this
country 8,000 copies were taken the first
week of publication. “Allan Quatermain”
is a continuation of “King Solomon’s
Mines,” in that some of the characters who
helped make the search for the “Mines”
amusing, are brought forward again. Hag-
gard’s writings are stories of adventure,
wild, thrilling adventure, mystical and
wholly improbable, yet so well told that
you readon and on, infatuated with the
narrative. The scenes are principally laid
in South Africa, and the author, who was
stationed for some time in the Transvaal, is
able to describe with vividness, if not
accuracy, the life and scenes of that com-
paratively virgin country to the novelist.
His narratives are not at 'all of the “Buf-
falo Bill” order; their literary merit is far
above that class, and there is a dry humor
which makes you laugh outright, yet when
you go back to see what caused your

 


 

2 THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

 

smiles, you find it was only his “ way of
putting it,” 3. humor which evades yet
pleases. The trouble is that his romances
are too highly seasoned; there is too much
cayenne and olives. The climaxes are
startling, and at every such thrilling
situation you think “How can he surpass
this?” that it must inevitably be an anti-
climax, yet he carries you on to something
yet more dramatic.

I think it is always well to read one or
two of the works of an author who has
merit enough to win public attention,
whether quite in one’s line of thought or
not. It is good to become acquainted'with
the literature of one’s own time, even
though it be evanescent. Hugh Conway’s
“Called Back” made a sensation, but was
soon forgotten; yet one wishes to know a
book that is being much discussed. Hag-
gard is refreshing after so much Howells
and James, with their insipid “studies”
of commonplace character; and the “up-
holstery novels ” long ago palled upon us.

The young people-will be sorry to learn
of the death of Eugenie‘John, whose tales,
published under the nom de plume of “E.
Marlitt,” have been made familiar to
Americans by'Mrs. Wister’s translations.
Among the most favorably known of her
books are “Gold Elsie,” and “The Old
Mam’selle’s Secret.” The author was for
many years friend and companion to the
Princess Sonderhausen, and there became
versed in the ways of courts. She is al-
ways interesting, and portrays vividly the
the caste distinctions of social life in Ger-
many. But the reader who, pleased with
the first, reads another, and still another,
finds a certain sameness in the plot which
grows wearisome at last. There is al-
ways the haughty dowager of high rank,
and the titled but disagreeable heiress, the
proud, self-contained man beseiged. by
aristocratic relatives and madly in love with
a beautiful but lowly maiden who is un-
mercifully snubbed by the gentry, or kept
out of her inheritance, but who turns out to
be the princess in disguise, love triumphs
and the haughty are cast down.

" The Late Mrs. Null,” by Frank Stock-
ton, so well known by his magazine stories,
especially by that great conundrum, “The
Lady or the Tiger,” is a very ingenious and
amusing romance, though one cannot
claim that any “great moral lesson” is
taught thereby; the public do not care to

"find “Hi6 fabula docet” underlying the
thread of a narrative. But it is certain-
ly one of the most original novels one can
find, and some of its characters are ex-
tremely amusing and interesting, especially
Mr. Brandon and Widow Keswick, who
monopolize the attention at the denouement.

A young friend of mine is reading Scott
for the‘first time, and her absorbed interest
pleases me. I Can sympathize with .her, for
the works of the great Scotch novelist were
almost my sole reading when I was from
eleven to thirteen years old; I read and re-
read them, and never tired of “Kenil-

' worth” and “The Abbot,” “The Heart
of Mid-Lothian” and “Ivanhoe.” I know
a great many condemn the historical novel,
which is not always history, yet there are
many good words to be said for it. If
oung people are left to read merely for

 

the story’s sake, they get vague, uncertain
ideas and knowledge of historical person-
ages; yet they get also an idea of the char-
acter and standing of those personages
which is generally true to history. No his—
tory could give a more faithful idea of the
real character of Louis XIV, the strange
mixture of treachery and nobleness, than
does “Quentin Durward.” I would put
Scott in the hands of the young people,
and interest them in finding out from his-
tory all additional information relative to
the life and times of the characters, and I
think I could thus keep out the fascinating
but pernicious “ Buffalo Bill” and “Bertha
Clay” stuff. BEATBIX.

-——-——¢o.———
CAN NING TOMATOES.

 

An experienced housekeeper tells 'how
she cans tomatoes in tin cans which she
procures at the hardware stores. Her
method is as follows:

“ After putting on your tomatoes to heat,
get together all the things needed about
canning, so you may proceed without delay
after the tomatoes come to a boil. Lay a
newspaper on the kitchen table and set the
cans on it, so you may not soil the table if
you spill any of the tomatoes or cement.

“All hardware dealers keep canning
cement, so you will have no trouble in pro-
curing it. Some of it comes in sticks, some
in tin cups, and some in the form of tapers.
I have tried all, and they will all answer a
good purpose, in the hands of a careful
person. If you use the stick cement, keep
an old frying-pan for the express purpose
of dissolving the cement in it, and keep a
pewter teaspoon to dip it up with. Have
on hand a bundle of .clean, soft old rags to
wipe the rim of the tin cans perfectly dry,
as you are apt to spill some of the juice on
the rims in filling the cans. This is one
of the most important points about canning
in tin, so I would especially urge it upon
your attention.

“ When the tomatoes come to a boil, dip

them up with a tin dipper, so your hand
may not come in too close contact with
them. When you have filled the can as
full as it will hold, take a rag and pass it
around the rim twenty times, or till you are
certain that it is bone dry, as the least
moisture on it will prevent the cement
from Sticking on permanently. Then press
the top firmly on, and again pass a rag
round the rim, as the act of pressing down
the top may squeeze out a little juice.
Then dip up a spoonful of the melted
cement and pour it from the point of the
spoon into the rim of the can. If you hear
a hissing sound, stop instantly, for that is
a sign there is some dampness about the
rim. Dry it with a rag, or if you have gone
too far, set the can aside till the can cools,
then unseal it, heat the tomatoes again for
a few moments, dry the rim more carefully
and seal up the can again. The cement
hardens in a few minutes and is much more
easily removed then than when warm and
sticky. If you are canning more than afew
quarts, you ought to have the cook or‘some
one to help you, as otherwise too many
details will press upon you at once. Let
your cook fill the cans and you dry the
rims andseal up the cans, or vice versa.
“Leave the cans in some accessible

 

place, so you may’ daily examine them for
at least a week. If they keep that long,
you may feel pretty secure of them. Sun-
light has no effect on tin cans, but they
ought not to be left where they are apt to
freeze in winter, 'as this injures their
quality and makes the cans burst.

“ The same directions given for tomatoes
will‘apply, with very slight variations, to
all vegetables. Corn alone is said to be be-
yond the power of an amateur to can suc-
cessfully. I have kept it very well; how-
ever, by canning it half and half with to-
matoes. A housekeeper ought. to aim to
have a large and varied stock of canned
vegetables, green peas, asparagus, butter-
beans, etc. Canned green peas make a
delightful addition to giblet soup.”

__...____

WASHING WINDOWS.

 

The labor of washing windows is almost
thrown away if performed when a whirl of
dust is blowing, or when the windows are
in the full blaze of sun. In cleaning win-
dows the first step should be to give them a
thorough brushing to dislodge dust from
the sashes and ledges; a small whisk broom
is best for this purpose, and also for use on
the blinds. Then wipe the windows with a
dry cloth, rubbing them well. Wash the
sills and woodwork in warm water, then
you are ready for the glass, for which a fresh
supply of water is needed. Never use soap
on windows; it makes the glass cloudy.
Borax, pearline, or dilute ammonia are bet-
ter. Choose old cloths that are not linty;
wring out the cloths before applying them
to the glass, and follow the wet cloth in-
stantly with a dry one; otherwise streaks
are apt to appear. It is not necessary to
use much Water if the glass is wiped with
the dry cloth first.

The best window rags are made of worn-
out flannel under-wear, cut to convenient
size. A chamois skin is a good substitute.
A cloth moistened with alcohol and rubbed
on the glass gives a fine Polish. Plate
powder produces a brilliant effect, but
makes much more work. Soft tissue paper
is excellent to polish mirrors or window
glass; old newspapers rubbed limp are a
good substitute, and plenty of rubbing in
either case. Choose a cloudy day to wash
windows, both for your own comfort and
because the glass is less apt to be streaked.
The outside blinds or shutters must be
washed at the same time as the windows,
otherwise a shower will beat the dust off on
to the panes. Washing windows need not
be a dirty or disagreeable task, if only these
few hints are observed. 1.. c.

DETROIT.
————...———-

AN INQUIRY FOR ABSENT ONES.

In looking over back numbers of the
HOUSEHOLD a short time ago, in search of
something I wished to remember, I found
many names that used to sound familiar,
and ask, where are they now? Have they
tired in well doing, or are they with us yet,
though disguised under new nom de plumes!
If so, why wish to change the old name for
the new? We learn to know them by their

names, and prize the name as well as the

letters. Do you think— it would satisfy the
readers as well should our little Bones.

4"


‘1'

.II. in mph "swim

THE HOUSIEI-IOLD. . ' 3

 

 

HOLD come to us each week with a letter
from Flora or Helen, as though it were
Beatrix or Evangeline? Though we might
appreciate the letters the same, yet we
would miss the old familiar names, not
knowing they had made the change, and
thinking the new name belonged to some
newmeinber. Week after week we would
watch eagerly for their friendly chat. I
often picture to myself each member as I
read their letters, and wonder if I draw
a correct likeness. Each member seems
like an old friend. No doubt there have
been many changes since we first gathered
as a HOUSEHOLD; and like the old time
friends perhaps

“ Some are scattered now and fled, ..
Some are married, some are dead,

but we miss each absent member so much.
We once had a Brunefille, Anna of Wes-
sington, Tom’s Wife, Mertie, Ellenor and
a host of others who answered to the roll
call, but where are they now? And those
good old Aunties, where are they?

One writer tells us that we can judge by
the letters what sort of men and women the
writers are, and another that you can often
read the character of a man simply by see-
ing his old shoes. Be that as it may; I will
not venture' an opinion, but I am quite sure
I will never change my views concerning
nom de plumes as long as I remain

OLD HUNDRED.
____...___
OUR HAPPIEST HOURS.

It has been an unusually hot, close, op-
pressive day; one of those days when no one
feels just exactly right, when the home
machinery is out ’0 gear; and as if it needed
the last straw that broke the camel’s back—
the babywas sick. But just as surely as
there is “no night but hath its day,” there
is no day but comes to a close. And I
watched a little anxiously for the sunset,
and it came. The sun dipped lower and
lower; long shadows were thrown across
the lawn and meadow, the leaves that had
hung so limp and lifeless began to rustle
faintly in the slight breeze, occasionally the
birds twittered, and sent forth a gay carol,
the least bit of dewy freshness was apparent.
And now the sun has dropped, a great red
ball, below the horizon, and as he leaves
our sight the fair moon smiles down upon
us in silvery rays. Straggling along up the
lane came the cows,

“Gretchen, Queen Bess and Florimel,

With linkle, lankle, liukle,

With merry song and tinkle,
And the cows are coming home;

Let down the bars, let in the train

0f memory’s hopes, and fears and pain,

For childhood days come back again,
when the cows are coming home.“

I sit here in front of the screen, with the
baby in my lap; she has forgotten her fret-
fulness and worrying, and is fast asleep;
the little dimpled hands are folded, the
blue eyes closed, the least bit of a smile
hovers about the mouth, and if perfect peace
and happiness ever sat enthroned on infant
brow it is here; and as I sit ahd drink my
fill of baby’s charms 1 am wondering,
when are our happiest moments? The
lazy drone of insect life, the chirp of the
cricket, have set me off on a trail of
memory, and I am. a little child again.
hanging on the old red gate, seeing the cows
milked; barefooted, sunbonnet hanging on,

 

my back, not a care in the world, chasing
butterflies in the peach orchard that covered
a side hill back of the horse barn, hunting
wild flowers along the creek and in the
woods, swamp pinks and spotted lilies;
going after water lilies in an old leaky
boat. Ali! we were up by sunrise those
days, and had to tramp through the wet
grass a good mile, but what cared we; our
cup of pleasure was filled to the brim, we
dre nk in all the beauties of country life.

“ What tho‘ our clothes were ragged,

Our faces tanned and brown,

We never envied no, not once,
The children of the town;

We gathered waving burdock leaves,
Or wandered by the pool,

To watch the titbats gliding past,
Beneath the waters cool .”

Making daisy chains under the big cherry
tree, weaving leaf wreaths for our hats,
peeping into the robiu’s nest to see if the
blue eggs were hatched, eating the big
sweet apples that grew so pleutifully in the
orchard, living entirely in, the present, with
but one wish, for the time to hasten when
we would be big like mother and keep
house. Then came the 'school days, the
hard struggles with problems and rules, but
more than overbalanced by the pleasant
companionship of girls of our own age; the
discipline, so well calculated to fit us for the
life that lay beyond our school life, the vaca-
tion, one ceaseless round of pleasure, boat-
rides, excursions, serenades. There were
four of us then, two brothers and two
sisters, we had the quartette complete. But
“into each life some tears must fall;” the
dearest wish of my life was hid away with
my school books, and my childish wish was
verified—I was big like mother and could
keep house—but I must take up the work
she had left unfinished, and without her
gentle council and help. Oh! the first great
sorrow, it seems so terrible, as if it would
crush us with its weight, but the kind
Father wills that Time shall heal the
wound, although the scar remains, audit
rests with us whether we hear our sorrow
meekly or rebel. After the first link is
broken the chain falls to pieces fast, so
one after another went; the last time I went
back to the old home it was so changed.

“ On creaking hinges it backward swings,

Spared from ruin by time and fate,

The most familiar of old time things,
The rickety, loose—hung, door yard gate.

Few are the footsteps that now pass through,
Over its portal there’s silence to—day,

The world is older, all things are new
And its time of favor fades far away. "

I had heard about

“ The land where milk and honey fiow
Go join the throng, ’tis westward ho l"

and the Whirligig of time found me in
Michigan, in a lovely home of my own,
which looks lovelier and fairer to me to-
night than ever, bathed in the silvery
moonlight; and keeping the thought, that I
have no earthly parents, no brothers or
sisters around me, uppermost in my mind
again comes the query, “ When are our hap-
piest hours?” I must answer, “when I
hold my babes in my arms.” Oh! there is
no love like mother love, so absorbing, so
satisfying, “children, ay, forsooth they
bring their own love with them when they
come.” They have been rightly classed
“ troublesome comforts;” with their cooing
voices an i merry laughter.

“ I love it, I love it, the laugh of a child,
Now rippli 1g and gentle, now merry and wild;
It rings on the air in its innocent gush,
Like tfie‘ttrlill of a bird at the twilight’s soft
us ; .

 

It floats on the breeze. like the tones of a bell,
Or the music that dwells in the heart of a
shell."

Our happiest hours! We seldom recog-
nize them as they are passing, just as
sometimes we “entertain angels unawares.”
Do not let us wait, thinking they may come
to-morrow, for the present is the only time
we are sure of. Yesterday has gone beyond
recall, to-morrow we may never see. It is
not our surroundings entirely that constitute
happiness, it is the inner life that lies
within the heart.

“ Within our lives of conscious care
There lies another, fair and sweet.
All gracious sanctities are there,
And trust, and consecration sweet.
A heaven that lieth not apart.
A spirit world within the heart."
BATTLE CREEK. EVANGELINE.

o’—~~—

HINTS ON BREAD-MAKING.

 

 

The N. E. Farmer, in a long article on
bread-making, makes the following useful
suggestions:

When bread is mixed with water, more
flour is needed than when milk is used.
With milk no shortening is used, while to
water bread one tablespoonful of lard or
butter to every two quarts of flour is re-
quired. _

Lard makes whiter bread than butter,
but many cooks prefer the taste of the butter.

Milk is— boiled to prevent souring, and
must then be cooled untilluke-warm. Bread
with too much sweetening or shortening is
not good for an every day diet, doing more
harm than an occasional piece of cake or
rich pastry.

Seventy degrees is about the right tem-
perature for raising dough, and it should
never fall below 45 deg. Sometimes in cold
weather bread will rise but little during the
night, and it may be hurried along by plac-
ing the bread bowl into a pan of hot water
in the morning, but care should be taken in
setting bread over or about the stove, that
one side does not become over-heated and
spoiled in the effort to hasten the rising.

When bread has risen too soon, or you do
not wish to use it at once, stir it down if
batter, or cut it down if a stiff dough. This
lets out the carbonic acid gas which would
turn into acetic acid, or in other words sour.
To rectify sourness in bread dissolve a
small teaspoonful of soda in a little warm
water and put into bread before stirring it
down, by raising the dough at the sides of
the bowl with a spoon, so the soda will run
into the meshes of the raised dough.

An earthen bowl is better for mixing

.bread than a tin pan, bread also rises

quicker in a bowl, as it keeps an even tem-
perature. A tin lid fitted to a bread bowl
is a convenience. Flour added to bread
while kneading it will make it tough.
Kneading calls for the expenditure of a
good amount of physical strength, and can-
not be omitted without injury to the bread.

In baking bread increase the heat at first
to check the rising and then let it slacken.

Rolls should rise longer or until lighter
than loaves at the time of going into the
oven, because they are so quickly baked.

Small loaves bake more evenly and cut
into better slices than large ones.

When a loaf is taken from the oven rub it
ever with a bit of butter and the crust will
be tender.

Wash the bread-board in cold water, as

 


4: THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

this removes the flour and dough sooner
than warm water. Scrape any bits of the
dough from the. board with the back of a
knife, and with the grain of the wood, that
the surface may not be roughened.
.___....‘..-.———

, FRIENDSHIP.

 

“Be just to,God,be ust tonan, ,
Then injure any i you can.
Friendship cheers the sinking soul,
The sorrowing heart it doth console."

How much harm can be, and. is, done by
gossiping; how- many friends parted, how
many hearts broken just by a few idle
words, and those spoken in jest, perhaps,
but repeated until they would not be re-
cognized if heard again by the one who
first uttered them? How often when we
listen to a story regarding a friend, we
ponder over it till it becomes an unpardon-
able thing, and two .dear friends are parted;
while had we seen the same thing with our
own eyes or heard with our own ears, it
would have appeared as nothing.

There seems to be something about our
human nature, that the mere presence of
fellow men gives cheerfulness; how much
more when we can call them friends, for
mere acquaintances must not be called
friends. True friendship is rare, like a
great many other things of great value; and
we should be very careful in selecting our
friends, not only because we can have so
few, and so want the best, but because a
true friend has a very great influence upon
our lives and character. When we have
entered into partnership with any one, we
should be conitant, and be especially care-
ful not to allow new acquaintances to part
us from old friends “ tried and true.”

“ Make new friends but keep the old,
Those are silver, these are gold;
New made friendships, like new Wine,
Age will mellow and refine.
Friendships that have stood the test—
Time and change—are surely best.
Brow may wrinkle, hair grow gray,
Friendship never knows decay;
For ’mid old friends, tried and true
Once more we our youth renew.
But old friends, alas may die,
New friends must tt eir place supply,
Cherish friendship in your breast,
New is good, but old is best;
Make new friends but keep the old,
Those are silver, these are gold."
YPSILANTI. MARY B.

—_—«.——_
SCRAPS.

THE prettiest garden hat that I have seen
this season was a large rough straw, white,
trimmed with folds and puffs of sheer India
muslin and a big bunch of what is variously
known as “ everlasting clover ” or “ globe
amaranth,” botanically as Gomphrena
globosa rubra, a plant whose blossoms some-
what resemble clover heads. The flowering
branches had been cut from the plant, and
so carefully dried as to preserve their grace-
falness—though, like most everlastings, the
plant is not famous for elegance—and they
looked very rural and countrified among
the loops of soft lawn.

THE crinkled seersuckers,at eight, ten and
twelve and a half cents per yard, have come
into great popularity this season for wash
dresses. And very pretty suits they make,
too, when tastefully designed. - Two
young girls I met the other day: looked par-
ticularly sweet and fresh in dresses of pink
and white stripe, cut with plain skirts,

back, and simple, loosely fitting basques
with rovers and cuffs of plain pink satteen.

A friend has just made up a very pretty
cream-colored wrapper of this goods. which
only cost her a dollar, all told, as she made
it herself. It has a yoke in front, to which
the fullness is gathered, and confined at the
waist line by a crimson ribbon; the back is
cut princesse, with extra length caught up
in pleats to take away the straight effect; it
is what some dressmakers call a polonaise
back. The sleeves are close-fitting at the
armsize and loose at the wrists. A knot of
ribbon at the throat and little bows on the
sleeves add to the dressy effect. These
seersuckers are not to be starched, and
should be pulled and smoothed and pressed
straight rather than be ironed, as the iron-
ing spoils the crinkle.

 

How one must fight her washwoman to
be free from the tyranny of starch! I
abominate the rattle of skirts starched to a
paper-like stiffness, so that the wearer
advertises her coming by a noise that ex-
ceeds and yet is not half as musical as the
wind moving “down the sierried ranks of
corn.” It is hard for the woman who is the
arbiter of our linen to make way for the
era of limpness. She has so long starched
everything to the last degree of stiffness,
that the order “no starch ” is only obeyed
after much iteration. These heartfelt ob-
servations are the result of recent sore ex-
periences. Having occasion to employ a
new lady of the flatiron, my washing came
home in a condition calculated to make
angels weep. Skirts, pillow slips, under—

tion, and when I attempted to—excuse my
blushes —attire myself ina robe dc nuit fresh
from her hands, I felt as if I had forcibly
encountered a pile of broken crockery. Such
stiffness is ruinous to the goods, too; em-
broidery cracks all to pieces and lace tears
like a cobweb. It was only after a severe
lesson—a white dress crumpled up and
sent back to be done over because starched
to Sheerness after I had especially ordered
“no starch at all,”—that my entreaties
were heeded. Half the beauty of these
muslins and soft washgoods comes from
graceful lines and folds they take in drap-
ing, and now we have left off our ruffles and
pleatings, fashion decrees a fullness of
drapery very unbecoming to stiff goods,
and perfectly preposterous when starched.
Remember this, girls, and see that your
wash dresses get only “ the least little bit ”

‘ of starch. _ B.
-——-—-.O.-—_

HOUSEHOLD HINTS.

 

1F agarment is mildewed, attend to the
removal of the mildewed spots promptly.
A weak solution of chloride of lime will re-
move such stains without damage while
they are fresh. The goods should be care-
fully rinsed in an abundance of water to
remove all traces of the lime.

 

BOILING water poured through the fabric
will remove fresh fruit stains effectually
and without damage. A bit of unsalted but-
ter as large as a pea, will entirely neutral-
izes-bad stain from fresh grass. Machine
grease must be rubbed with soap and cold

wear, handkerchiefs—all had a liberal por— ‘

A CORRESPONDENT of the Indiana
Farmer says: “ I often see advertisements
for broom-holders, but I know of none that
answers the purpose better than the follow-
ing: Take two empty spools, No. 30 or-
larger; slip nails in the center of each; drive
one in the wall; take your broom, brush
end up, and let the part where the broom
begins to widen rest on the spool, and then
you will see where to put the other spool.”

 

JAVELLE water, a bleachingcompound
much in favor with washwomen, is made as-
follows: Take half a pound of chloride of
lime to two quarts of water. When the
clear solution is poured off, add to it a
pound of saleratus dissolved in a quart of
hot water. This will make a milky looking
mixture, which will clear itself in a
few hours, when it should be poured oi!
and bottled. It will keep indefinitely in a
cool cellar, and a tablespoonful or more, in
a quart of water, will remove stains and
effectually whiten handkerchiofs and nap-
kins stained or off-color from careless
washing. The ordinary rubbing and boil-
ing should be given after the use of javelle
water, to remove it entirely from the fabric.
_ _.,..____

Contributed Recipes.

 

HAM Saute—Cut up cold boiled ham in.
small hits; out several heads of lettuce fine
and mix in the salad bowl. Make the dress-
ing as follows: Put in the sauce-pan one pint
clear cream, slightly sour, half pint vinegar,
pepper, salt, lump of butter, sugar, mustard,
the well-beaten yolks of two eggs; now stir
very carefully until it thickens like starch.
and be careful not to scorch. Set in a cool
place, or on ice until cold; then turn over the
salad and mix thoroughly.

GREEN CORN PUDDING.-—-Cut the corn from
the cob, scrape the pulp, and to one pint of it
add one quart milk, three eggs, a little butter,
a little sugar, and salt and pepper. Stir it
often until thick; bake an hour. A side dish
for meats.

NEW POTATOES WITH Gamma—Scrape and
boil them; when done turn them into a tur-
reen; take a sufficient quantity of sweet
cream, a lump of butter, pepper and salt, and
set over the fire. Let it come to a boil, add a
little thickening and turn over the potatoes.
Serve immediately. Nice.

GREEN CORN PUDDING.—One dozen ears of
corn; one egg; three tablespoonfuls butter;
pepper; salt; a little sugar. Cut the corn
from the cob and scrape thoroughly; add the
egg, butter and sugar. If the corn is not
quite young, add a little cream; it should be
moist. Bake in adeep dish, to a deep brown.
Serve as a vegetable. Very appetizlng.

RASPBERRY SNOW.—Dissolve half a package
of gelatine in half cup water; add one cup:of
boiling water and one cup sugar; strain and
set to cool. Beat the whites of four eggs, and
when the jelly is nearly cold whip them in.
Stir in a pint of red raspberries, and pour the
mixture into a mold; when thoroughly cold
and firm, turn out and heap over one pint of
whipped cream.

There are so many-weeks during the year
that we cannot have the fresh fruits that we
can afford to make these delicious dishes in
the season of the separate fruit. The eating
of loo much pastry is not good for one's
- stomach. It is not so healthy during the hot
summer months as these creams and one.
tards. EVANGELINE.

 

 

apron draperies in front and sashes at the

water before putting into hot suds.

BATTLE CREEK.

 

~ iaasm