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DETROIT, SEPTEMBER 12, 1887.

 

 

 

THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement.

 

N0 BABY IN THE HOUSE.

 

No baby in the house, I know;
'I‘is far too nice and clean;

No tops by careless fingers thrown
Upon the floor are seen;

No finger-marks are on the panes,
No scratches on the chairs;

No wooden men set up in rows,
0r marshalled off in pairs;

So little stockings to be darned,
All ragged at the toes;

No pile of mending to be done,
Made up of baby clothes;

No little troubles to be soothed,
No little hands to fold;

No grimy fingers to be washed,
No stories to be told:

No tender kisses to be given,
N.) nicknames, “ Love ” and “ Mouse ;”

No merry frolics after tea,
No baby in the house.

—‘..-—_——v

ENGLISH COMMON SCHOOLS.

 

About this time, there seems to be a very
general complaint about our common or
district schools, and sometimes comparison
is made with our own and the English sys-
tem. The writer has had a little experience
in both, and perhaps might have a hearing.
The free school, or common school of Eng-
land is in some way supported by church
and state and upheld by the gentry living
around. Each parish has generally a solid,
well-built school-house, boys’ and girls’
rooms separate. In many cases, a dwelling
for the master and mistress, who are often
man and wife, is attached; the man teacher
is for the boys, and the woman forthe girls.
The teachers are permanent, so long as they
perform their duties well, and school is kept
all the year round, five days in each week,
except the Easter and Christmas holidays.
A child is admitted at the age of five years;
The rules are read to both parent and child.
they are plain and strict, and both parties
understanding that they must be obeyed, no
whimpering tales of finding fault with
teachers are often carried home. The min-
ister of the parish keeps an eye on the teach-
ers. The tuition fees are (for each pupil)
three halfpence per week, and if there are
three pupils from the same family, only one
penny. Slates and all books are furnished
free of cost, except writing or copy books.
These schools are strictly protestant, and
there is one in each parish. There is no
reason why an English child should not have
an education, unless for the poverty of the
parents, who, as soon as their boys or girls
are strong enough to earn fourpence or six-
pence per day, take them out of school to
help earn a living. Scholars can attend
these schools until they are 20 years old.

 

Each year there are one or two festival treats
given to the children; parents and all are in-
vited, some nice ground is selected, games
like stool-ball, skip-the-rope, drop-handker-
chief, etc., and the gentry folks join in, and
furnish buns and candy for the children,
and tea for the old folks.

Now the English common school is not
far behind our own; in many things seems
superior. From the age of five to thirteen
1 went to one of these schools, and in ten
years after this I “ graduated ” in a district
school in Iowa. I have visited the High
School at Westminster Abbey, and twice I
was in the school room at Harrow-on-the-
Hill, and in this school room, the seats and
the desks were solid hard wood, no paint,
and on the side ceiling were carved with
pocket knives the initials of many of Eng-
land’s noblest boys and men. This
was from 1848 to 1850. At this
time I think Dr. Tait was principal, and I
was a page to one of the kindest and most
l.beral men of London; his name was Wm.
Tooke, M. P.

I have since been assessor and director in
our own district, and find there is great dis-
interestedness on the part of the parents,
also general at the annual school—meetings,
and man 7 times it is hard to get three of
the best men in the district to accept. The
laws and rules are not strict enough; or if
they are, they are not heeded, neither by
parent or teacher, and if my judgment is
worth anything, there is too much pamper-
ing of teachers and pupils. You see none of
these maxims in high or low schools of Old
England: Obey your parents; obey your
teacher. ANTI -0VER.

Pnamwnnn.
._ flow——

A PATIENT SUFFERER.

 

Nearly always a feeling of sadness steals
over us, when we hear that some one is
dead. We immediately picture to ourselves
the desolate house, the mourning friends,
the vacant chair at the fireside, the empty
place at the table. There is no one but has
some friend to drop a tear for him, when
Death closes his eyes forever. For if God
has denied us ties of flesh and blood, He
has given us the power to win friends to
ourselves. When the news came into my
quiet home one morning that Mrs. -——- was
dead. I simply said, “ I am glad that the
poor body is at rest.” It was no common
sickness she had, it was not a matter of a
few days or weeks, but for seven long
wearisorne years she lay on the same bed, in
the same room, and suffered such terrible
pains that her hands and limbs were all

 

      

about it one day when I sat by her bedside.
She said that the summer fire was taken
sick, it seemed to her as if she must get

ready for something that was going to
happen. She made lots of underclothes
and caps, lace, barred mull, and lawn
caps all frilled and tucked, she bought
a new parlor carpet, replenished the
household linen and ‘set everything
in order, and the last thing that re-
mained undone was to clean the cellar. It
was an extremely hot day and she to )k off
her shoes and stockings, and mopped the
cellar barefooted. She was taken in a little
while with inflammatory rheu uatisrn, and
had been helpless ever since. She retained
her hearing and eyesight until the last, and
I could not see but her mind was as clear as
ever, she seemed quite interested in the
things that were transpiring out in the
world. But the most wonderful thing was
the patience with which she bore her pain
and suffering, and once she asked me, with
the tears running down her face, if I
thought it was a judgment sent upon her;
she had always tried to be a good wife and
mother, a kind neighbor, and why was she
made to suffer so year after year. Said I,
“ N o, I do not believe it for a moment. The
kind Father does not afflict so; you violated
Nature’s laws, and when we do that we
suffer the penalty every time.” I have
heard a great deal about judgments being
sent on people for sins committed, but I
never was a very firm believer in it. It was
never intended that we should be mere
machines, doing the work of steel and iron
and wood. Our mechanism is much more
delicate and intricate, and invariably, if we
overtax our strength or expose our health,
we suffer. Har married life had numbered
over sixty years, and just a few weeks be-
fore she died we all gathered to pay the last
tribute of respect to her husband’s memory.
When he was carried out of the house,
amid her tears she prayed to go with him,
and God heard her prayer, He was good to
her, and in just a little while the poor
shapeless hands were folded over the heart,
whose throbs were stilled forever; the eyes
over which the lids drooped wearily had
opened to new beauties. We are left to
grope in darkness, she the real has attained,
over all the pain and suffering and anguish,
the great wave of eternity has rolled—they
are but things of the past. I am sure I
harned a lesson of patience from her, and
if sometimes Ishall think my lot is hard,
that my troubles outnumber my blessings, I
will think how uncomplainingly she bore
her life, isolated from the world, with noth-

 

drawn out of shape. She was telling me

ing to break the monotony but an occasional

   
   
 


 

2 THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

 

call from a friend, or a bouquet of flowers
that had been in .the beautiful sunshine
from which she was debarred. One would
certainly need to have an inexhaustible
supply of happy thoughts to keep time from
being a drag, until rest shall come:
“ Oh: sweet and blessed rest:

With these sore burdens pressed.
To lose ourselves in slumber long and deep.

To drop our heavy load,

Beside the dusty road.
When He hath given His beloved sleep.

" 'l‘o dieiit is to rise.
’l‘o fairer. brighter skies.
Where Death no more shall his dread harvest
reap,
To soar on angel wings.
Where life immortal 5; rings.
For so He giveth His beloved sleep."
BATTLE CREEK. EVAXHELINE.
-————-«o——

INJUSTICE TO \VIVES.

 

l have just finished reading my last
Hovsnnonn (Aug. 23nd) where Beatrix
tells when some people thought they were
happiest, and I thought if she 'could be
made happy so easy I would add my mite
by picking up my pencil and paper.

Like her first friend, I have done looking
for any great happiness to come to me, not
only all in a moment. but at all: if it does
come, I can receive it, but am not letting
the little pleasant things that each day
brings pass unheeded by. That little scrap
of poetry on the first page of the Housm-
nom) mentioned gives as good a direction
to find happines as can be given:

“ Turn oil” from the highway of selfishness.
To the right. up duty‘s track!

Keep straight along and you can‘t go wrong:
For as sure as, you live, I say.

The fair lost fields of happiness
Can only be found that way."

How much of our lives have been spent
hoping and wishing for more, or something
better than we already possessed? Many
people believe that God gave us each our ap—
pointed place to work; if this is true, how
foolish and wicked to be fretting at our lot.
No one doubts our privilege or duty to bet-
ter our condition physically, mentally and
spiritually; you know the man in the New
Testament who doubled his talent most
times, was given more in proportion to
the ability and industry shown in results.

I do not know quite which are my hap-
piest moments, but think they are when I
feel sure of the love and approbation of my
kindred and dear friends, with the appro-
bation of my own heart or conscience.

Now, as regards that other conundrum
about the wife’s money. I do not know that
anything new can be added to the numerous
testimonies already before the HOUSEHOLD,
but will, nevertheless, add mine. Accord-
ing to my observation, a man is more care-
less in the expenditure of his wife’s money
than in money earned by himself. I know
more than one case where, the wife’s share
of her father’s property being in a farm, the
husband hires the most of his work done;
he keeps a single horse for the road, and it
is “generally there;” the wife does her own
housework and makes butter and raises
poultry for her pocket money, as well as to
supply the groceries for the table. Another
man, worth about ten thousand dollars,
married a woman who had about two thou-
sand; they were people along in years. He
began to borrow soon after their marriage,

and he would give her his note; he kept
her. owing as her money came due to her,
until he got nearly all of it. She never

could get a cent of interest, the notes are
outlawed, and the husband will not make a
will; these are all nice people; the man is
selfish; the woman is weak enough to suffer
injustice for peace’s sake. I could tell of a
case of greater injustice than even this, but
will forbear. I sometimes think the woman
who has no money of her own stands the
best chance for happiness. Yet in justice,
every woman should keep her money or
property in her own name, and in such
shape that she can control it or the use of it.
Women will never receive just treatment
on this subject until the boys are educated
by their mothers to see the right and then
practice it; and it is for the mothers of to-
day to begin that work. M. E. n.

Atmox.
-————.o.——-———

CHAT.

 

Now wasn’t that a neat little hint of
Beatrix’s, i. e., that her happiest moments
are when she has an abundance of HOUsE-
HOLD copy? Those who have the ability
and any spare moments ought not to forget
this; let us keep our Editor happy, for the
knowledge of her enjoyment will surely
comfort those who contribute toward it. for
we all wish nothing else but happiness for
her. I wish I had the time and ability to
send a few lines that would be interesting,
each week. Variety is the spice of life, and
we should take time to note down any new
ideas that may occur to us anddonate them
to the little paper. If they should not be
worthy of notice let the waste basket catch
them and try again. The trouble with me
is ifI ever have bright thoughts they are
sure to come when I am mixing bread, en-
tertaining company, or after I have retired
and the lights are out; and when I am pre-
pared to write them, they are like the Irish-
man’s flea, when he put his finger on him,
“ faith he wasn’t there.”

I doubt agree with Antiover in regard to
the chicken business, but as my experience
is limited will not argue as yet. Suffice to
say that my pin money would be sadly re-
duced were my chicken and egg money tak-
en from me. I would like to know what
became of her chickens’ toes: or, if like
“ Topsy,” they “ just growed so.” If Aunt
Prudence says anything more about farmer
husbands being so penurious I shall rise up
in righteous judgment against her, and by
the time I Should get through defending
them she would wish she had one of her
very own.

Wonder if Brunefille’s Lu had a mother-
in-law to look at the dirty dishes and sigh
:over the careless and destructive ways of
modern wives! I like her spirit, yet sym-
pathize with the sister who thinks she can-
not leave her work undone. I am looking
for an answer to the query, “How does
Evangeline find so much time to write,”
quite anxiously, and it begins to look as if
she must come to the front and explain her-
self, for surely such a big light has no need
to be under a small bushel. o. n. R.

Vrcxsmtna.

 

[Evangeline has explained (see HOUSE-
IIOLD of Sept. 5); the secret lies in good
management, and a nice discrimination
which weighs essentials and non-essentials

 

carefully, and rejects the latter.

THE FARMER’S WIFE AND HER
CONSCIENCE.

 

(Paper read by Mrs. Jennie Averill before the
East and West Farmers‘ Club, of Paw Paw.
August 25, 1887.]

- The farmer’s wife is usually not always,

nor necessarily, but usually a farmer’s
daughter. She becomes acquainted early in

‘life with the surroundings and requirements

ofa farm, with its resources and limitations.
its petty economies and unbounded hospi-
talities. From the time she can stand on a
stool and wipe dishes, or help b'other bring
in wood, until she can, at need, take
mother’s place at the head of affairs, she has
her regular and abundant duties. She is
taught that of all sins shirking is deadliest.
while waste and ignorance are not far be-
hind.

Nowhere on earth exists a greater respect
for education than among farmers, there-
fore, our girl is taught to believe that here
is one clean, sharp, effective weapon that
an honest man or woman may wieldin life’s
battle, and she spares no effort to become
possessor of it.

This is her record: A bright district
school girl: afavorite in the nearest high
school, and afterwards, if: the family purse
will possibly allow it, a pupil for a while at
some first class seminary, college or univer-
sity; all the while spurred by conscience
to work far beyond her normal capacity.
for does she not know that mother fore-
goes the needed new dress. and father
wears the shabby overcoat -one winter
longer, and both give up the little trip that
would rest them so much, and work the
harder instead, that the beloved daughter
may have “a chance.”

After her return home. under a burden of
gratitude for favors received. she works her
young body and over-sensitive nerves un-
reasonably, at teaching, sewing, housework,
anything to add to the family prosperity,
pay the family debts, or aid the younger
children.

By and by her farmer appears: circum-
stances of courtship differ, but most result
alike in marriage. She is too wise and con-
scientious to be influenced by nercenary
motives; besides, it’s a well known fact that
afarmer is the only man whose wealth is
powerless to bestow ease upon his wife. If
it takes away the need of actual manual
labor, it brings so much more care, so
much doubtful help, and such extensive
entertaining, that there is little choice be—
tween poverty and riches.

Even before the wedding presents arrive.
advice begins to pour in. Mother puts in
hers first. “Be a good housekeeper,
daughter. No amount of education or
talent can atone for a disorderly house, or
useless extravagance.” Father rather spoils
the effect of this by adding: “For
mercy’s sake, child, don’t be too good a
housekeeper; don’t make the men take off
their boots in the barn for fear of your
floors; don’t have spasms if a fly gets into
the dining-room. Ifachap drops his hat
on the lounge or doubles his newspaper
wrong side out, don’t pounce upon either
immediately, like a hungry cat on a mouse.
Let the kittens lie under the kitchen stove,
and the sun shine on your best carpet

 

sometimes, and don’t make everybody


THIS HOUSEHOLD. 3

 

miserable if Mrs. Jones gets her washing
on the line first, or her house cleaned
earlier.”

Brothers and sisters, at first inclined to
resent her removal, conclude later that her
house will make a grand resort for them,
and extort a promise that she will always
allow them and their friends the greatest
latitude, and get them jolly suppers on oc-
casion. An intellectual aunt who, rather
late in life, married a farmer. has no
family and plenty of energy, advises her to
thoroughly understand her husband’s busi-
ness, and study his tastes, that she may be
a fit companion for him at all times, and a
capable manager in case of need. Teach-
ers and former schoolmates are apprised of
the approaching event by letter, and send
in their ideas the same way.

Her old teacher entreats her not to retro—
grade mentally. She feels sure that in
some way her old time favorite can not only
hold in her memory the already hard earned
knowledge, but increase her store by con-
stant reading of the best newspapers and
magazines, attending lectures, building up
a library of choice books, associating with
cultivated people only, etc., etc.

Of course none of her classmates are just
satisfied that she is to settle on a farm, but
they carefully try to conceal that. One
bids her be mindful of her piano practice
and painting, as she herself intends to
work faithfully, and threatens to surpass
her, in Spite of her old supremacy, unless
she does the same. Another hopes she
will not outgrow her rather exceptional
taste in dress, and become a dowdy because
she must live on afarm. The inevitable
linen collar and tidy apron are urged upon
her notice for mornings and matinees, and
fresh prints and muslins for afternoon, re-
gardless of the fact that a farmer’s wife
must generally be her own laundress.

Well, she enters upon the new life and
actually tries to remember and practice
these things. And it is perfectly wonderful
how many of them she succeeds in doing
fairly well, but do you suppose she is half
satisfied with her achievements?

It is to be hoped she is a Christian. If so,
and connected with any church, think of
the duties required of her in that line, not
only the obvious ones of attendance upon
and work in the church proper, the Sunday
school and prayer meeting, but even the
charities and recreations become an actual
burden when they call upon an overworked
woman to join mission, temperance, and
bible societies: beg, sew, write or speak for
each, manage church socials by giving
several dollars’ worth of choice food, ice
cream materials, labor of self, husband and
team, and then pay for a share of the
resulting feast. She lives on a farm, you
know, and has butter, eggs, fruit, milk, etc.,
and has a team too. It is even impudently
urged that people on a farm rise so early
that women have much more time for work
than “we town ladies.” Then there are
donations and picnics, the poor and ill of
the congregation must be cared for, stran-
gers sought out and made welcome, the
young people interested and the church
building kept in order.

By and by the little ones come, and every
one knows that the plain duties of a Chris-

 

tian mother would absorb the time and
strength of half a dozen women. There
are the bodily needs' from the morning
oatmeal to the evening bath, the hygienic
dress for all, from babyhood to man and
womanhood; the endless sewing, the con—
stant waiting upon, the tireless watching
through illness, the necessary knowledge of
simple remedies for frequent or sudden ail-
ments, for doctors do not live next door to
farm houses. Let any one but a mother at-
ten pt to dress and start for school three or
four restless children, some winter morn-
ing; I think the point of exhaustion would
be reached long before all the rubbers. leg—
gings, wraps, hoods, vails, mittens. books,
umbrellas and lunch were hunted up and
properly bestowed.

But these, she is warned, are but second-
ary matters, in addition a mother should al—
ways be competent to aid the child when
teachers are busy. or absent or puzzled, to
answer all questions, and do so patiently.
She is criminally negligent if she does not
know for herself the precise character of
her children’s associates, whether teachers,
schoolmasters or playmates; she should
never employ or endure help, indoors or out,
liable to corrupt her children by ill manners,
coarse expressions, profanity or bad habits;
and finally, she must herself set the ex~
ample of an almost perfect life, or she can-
not expect much of them. All this she
believes, and while accomplishing much,
she walks continually under a cloud of
apparent failure, since she comes so far
short of her endeavor.

Brothers, sisters and schoolmates grad-
ually drift into houses of their own, and from
giving. take to receiving more or less kind-
ly the advice they so freely offered others.
Their judgment of our heroine is greatly
softened by their personal experience, but
all are not so merciful.

A trusted medical friend thus counsels
her; “If you are ambitions for your chil-
dren do not crowd them. Develop first a
perfect physical growth, and the mental
structure afterwards reared will have a solid
foundation.” She has tried to follow this
direction and rather prides herself on her
warmhearted young athletes and hoydens,
until a friend arrives with an eight years
old girl who is a model of deportment and
stylishness, and casually mentions a son of
ten who is well advanced toward gradua—
tion. She doesn’t half approve such
management, but she can but notice that
her daughters are a trifle larger waisted
and tanned, and her boys not always re-
liable in English grammer. In a highly
respectable college a few hundred miles
away, labors a most exemplary gentleman,
who, in the pleasant past, when they were
classmates, greatly admired her, and in-
deed thought her expressly qualified for a
professor’s wife, which calling she only
missed because ofa dilference of opinion
on her part. During one of his long vaca—
tions he is sent out to swell the always too
small endowment fund, and happy in the
double prospect of seeing his old friend and
securing a fat subscription from her hus-
band, he arrives, unannounced, atthe farm-
house. She is unfeignedly glad, but what
bachelor could fathom the ability put forth
to so marshal her little clan, to so order

 

meals, to so oil the household machinery, to
so bring forward the pleasant objects on a
farm, and so cover up the unsightly and in-
convenient ones, that his greatest comfort
may be secured? Blind to management
that would do credit to a prime minister, he
only observes that she seems somewhat
absorbed and absent minded. When, at
the tea-table, he ventures upon a Latin quo-
tation from the book so familiar to both not
long ago, she is so intent on keeping her
six year old boy in tolerable order that she
only half catches his meaning, and the mat-
ter ends rather lamely, to her great chagrin.
She has not even heard of a famous new
text—book in higher mathematics, or of some
perfectly marvelous new discoveries in
natural science. He rides away presently.
feeling disappointed in her, and she knows
it. Now she did not want that professor, it
she had she would have taken him, but she
would not be human if she enjoyed having
him think he had a fortunate escape.

She resolves upon a change. She will
not endure another such an humiliation.
what she has known shall be freshened up a
little, she will at least read the reviews of
important new books, and spend more time
on newspapers. Husband warmly approves
her new departure, and is cheerfully ob«
livious to various small discomforts and
omissrons resulting therefrom, but the time
comes when, glancing from her book at the
sound of wheels, she sees approaching two
old friends of her family, whose home is
some miles away. They are evidently on a
business trip to the little city just beyond,
and intending to spend the night with her
for bodily refreshment and mild gossip.
How her heart sinks! Well she knows the
ruling passion of that ordinary looking
woman in the old fashioned carriage. She
seldom visits, reads nothing but the locals
in the county papers and an occasional
chapter in the Bible, but her housekeeping,
from the canned fruit in the cellar, to the
dried herbs and carpet rags in the attic, is
simply perfect; and our farmer’s wife feels
certain that, after her most frantic efforts
in the way of entertainment, this visitor, in
the privacy of her apartment, will inform
her husband, who is diSposed to like his
bright little hostess, that the coffee lacked
strength, while the butter had too much,
that she observed dust in the sitting room,
and flies in the kitchen, and that nowhere
in the house exists what she calls order.
They leave her in a very depressed and self—
accusing state of mind.

If a grand vegetable garden absorbs her
Spare moments and strength, some
aesthetic friend remarks that vegetables
equally fine may be procured at any market,
but that flowers give to a home refinement
and individuality that nothing else can
supply. Perhaps the very next summer
some beautifully kept flower beds elicit
from a practical woman the expression that
she “never could see the use of posies any-
way; if ’twas a kitchen garden now she
could admire it no end.” One guest walks
over the farm admiringly, but wonders at
her friend’s ignorance as to the exact age
and pedigree of some of the finest animals.
while the very next one smiles pityingly

upon awoman at all interested in stock-
raising, and a third thinks it downright
improper and unwomanly.

 


 

4:

THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

 

New ladies, you know this is no fancy
sketch. With slight variations it is the ex-
perience of each of us.

Why is it that so much more is required
of farmers’ wives than of any other class
of women on earth? Why may a lady in
city or town devote herself to society with-
out self-reproach, if she have sufficient
means, or a working woman there ignore
social claims, and none complain? Above
all, why is it that any otherwhere a
woman settles herself back complacently,
or plumes herself greatly after accomplish-

ing one—tenth of what a farmer’s wife does
constantly without at all satisfying her
conscience?

Has any one a suggestion? Can it be
that some of our tasks are not duties? Is
there any hope that enlightened surgery
may devise an operation, whereby awoman
my sacrifice a part of her abnormal eon-
science to the salvation of her life and rea-
son?

_______...-—————

A WEEK OFF.

Saturday evening, August 13th, a pleas-
ant party embarked on the City of Mack-
inac, at Detroit, the object being rest and
. recreation, in enjoyment of the sights and
cooling breezes of Northern Michigan. Many
others were like-minded, as was proved by
the crowded state of the steamer. Our
party was fortunate in having staterooms
engaged beforehand, but many were thank-
ful to find rest on a cot-bed; and although
every available space seemed filled, there
was not enough for all. '
The management refused to sell a state—
room to one occupary on any terms, owing
to the great press of travel, and during the
evening, a lady who had secured the lower
berth of a stateroom, saw with astonishment
a gentleman walk up to the door of her
room, and producing a key, proceed to open
it. file at once walked over and inquired
what he was doing there at her room door.
Chagrined and shamefaced, he showed his
key, proving he had been assigned to that
room, but hurriedly saying he would see the

clerk, he hastened away. The mistake was
the gentleman found other quar-
ters, and another “lone woman” shared the
the first inmate. Trifles are
but the poor fellow who was

rectified,

room with
amusing,

the fun others found in it.

The voyage was pleasant but uneventful
to Cheboygan, where we left, and took the
“Little Mary” for the celebrated inland
route to Petoskey. Starting from Cheboy-
gan, up the river of the same name, we soon
came to an extensive manufacturing estab-
of saw mills, grist
mills. etc, the water power being furnished
by means of a canal, lock and dam, built at
a cost of $25,000, which lifts the tourist up
some in feet in the world, and you proceed
further Obstruction
than the immense floats of logs which fill
bank, and
through which the little steamer, (a prOpel-
ler) slowly picks or works her way, crowd-
ing them into picturesque piles, badly bark-

ed and bruised. to again fall together in her
forward to the chute

lishment, consisting

on your way, without

the river in places from bank to

rear as they plunge

Passing the mouth of Black River, you see

fine farms along the banks, and six miles

from the point of starting you enter Mullett

Lake. This lake is twelve miles long by six

to eight broad; is a fine sheet of water with

high wooded banks, whose undulations

make a varied and pleasing scenery. There

are several hotels on its banks and all are

crowded. We took dinner at the Mullett

House, and found fires burning in ample
open hearths. Changing to the Northern

Belle, a side wheel steamer,-we soon enter
Indian River, a stream but little wider than
the steamer, but which fljws through varied
and picturesque scenes almost indescriba-
ble. Now thickly wooded banks, then a
tangle of swamp, then an expanse of marsh,
with tall reeds alternating with acres of
lovely water lilies, so near and yet so far;
then repeat, until after a ride of five miles
you enter Burt’s Lake, a lovely sheet of
water, ten miles long by five wide. Cross-
ing this, you enter Crooked River, which is
seven miles long, and crooked its nature as
its name. Turning, twisting, on we go,
here hung up in a tree, there stuck in the
mud, running into a bank at a sharp bend;
laughing, exclaiming at each misadventure,
and new and enchanting view, we come at
last to Crooked Lake, and crossing this, tie
up at the wharf at Olen, from which an
open car takes our party to Petoskey, a dis-
tance of eight miles. This car, drawn by an
engine, is an enlarged pattern of an open
horse ear, is provided with curtains, which
can be drawn closely in case of storm, and
is a very novel and pleasant way of travel-
ing the short distance. A gentleman
traveling over this inland route was asked
by another if he found it of interest.
“Yes,” was the reply, “it is all interest,
no principal.”
We devoted one day to Little Traverse Bay
region. Petoskey is all alive with business;
Bay View, a mile away, with its church,
Chautauqua auditorium and cottage, its
forest amphitheater for outdoor services, its

to the most pretentious,

dences.
(Continued met week)

—____—...-———

.—..—-—

HOLD, but have never felt as if anything
could write would add to its interest; but

be lost. But it is well we

rows and rows of cottages, from the simplest
lying as it does on
a sloping hillside down to the clear waters
of the bay, is full of interest. A steamer
makes the circuit of the bay several times a
day, and we visited Wequetonsing, (a'resort
under the control of a Presbyterian Associa-
. . tion , Harbor S rings and Harbor Point,
placed m such an awkward predicament by the two last narfied being, in my opinion,

another’s fault, was not in a state to enjoy the most desirable places for summer resi-

A GOOD WORD FOR THE CACTUS.

I am an interested reader of the HOUSE-

can be silent no longer when I hear one of
my favorite flowers assailed. I think could
Beatrix step into our home sometime when
our night blooming cereus is in bloom she
would change her mind about the cactus,
If they were never allowed this side of New
Mexico, a great deal of our enjoyment would
do not all like
the same flowers best. If the cactus were
the only plant cultivated we would tire of
looking at the plain, rough plant while

Even the beautiful rose, the most beautiful
of all flowers, would seem common if it

alone was cared for. I do acknowledge
that some of the cactus family are very
much like some noble men and women,
plain to look at, but by and by as you know
them better you wonder that you could have
thought them homely. I never thought my-
self very wise, but I do not think my wis-
dom fails most in keeping over thirty varie-
ties of the cactus. I wish some of the
readers of the'HOU SEHOLD would try raising
the rainbow cactus; it needs very little wa-
ter, requires little care, and in beauty will
well repay your trouble.

If this does not find its way into the.
waste basket, I may tell you more of those
abominably homely, ungainly cactii. I
have been watching for something about
the dish-washing machine; have none of
those over-worked farmers’ Wives courage
to give it a trial? s. E. w.
Mancnnsrns.

_____...—-———'—

OLD HUNDRED says the proof-reader
made a big blunder in her recipe for orange-
cake in the HOUSEHOLD of August 22. She
thinks the result will come nearer her
standard if half a cup of water and three
teaSpoonfuls of baking-powder are used.
This correction should have been made last
week, but was overlooked.

______._.—.—————

THE HOUSEHOLD Editor acknowledges,
with many thanks, the receipt of a basket
of delicious fruit—apples, pears, peaches
and grapes, and also a very beautiful bou-
quet of flowers from Miss Mattie L. Fuller,

of Fenton.

Contributed Recipes.

 

PRESERVED CRAB-APPLES.—Sort your ap-
ples, and the perfect ones put by themselves, .
trim the stem (leaving about an inch on the
apple) and scrape out the blossom end, wash
them, and put in a porcelain or other preserve
kettle, cover with water, cook until you can
run a straw through, skim out and weigh; to
each pound take a pound of sugar and a cup
Of water, boil and skim, put in the apples and
boil until clear, skim out, boil the syrup a
few moments, then pour over the apples.
The water the apples were boiled in measure,
and to each pint put a pound of white sugar,
boil an hour, and it makes a beautiful jelly.

 

Plcmn Pincus—Four pounds of sugar,
one pint of vinegar, to twelve pounds of fruit.
Put sugar and vinegar together and boil
then add the fruit and let it come to a boiling
point. The next day drain of! the liquor and
hell again. Do this three times. Add cinna»
mfgn to the liquor and stick two or three
I doves in each peach. Do not pare, but rub.
1 the fruit carefully with a flannel cloth, and
put up in cans the same as any fruit, though.
they will keepqa long time in jars.

 

{ ,

SPICE!) Grunts—Seven pounds of grapes,
three pounds of sugar, brown or white, one-
pint of good vinegar, two teaspoonfuls of
ground cinnamon, one teaspoonful of ground
allspiee, half a teaspoonful ground cloves.
Stem the grapes, weigh them, at the same
time taking out the seeds. Put the juice of
grapes, sugar and vinegar
kettle. Let boil and skim, said spices, then

Srfipesv

 

waiting for

 

that gathers them into the boom at the mill.

the lovely blossoms, which do
appeu and pay us well for our patience.

hot, then remove from stove and! can.

    

into 8 preserving

skins and pulp. Let allgot boiling