WIT. MARCH no, 1855.

 

THE .HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement.

 

AN ABRIDGED TAIL.

There was trouble in the household,
There were tears and noisy wail;

For some cruel hand had cut the tip
From Mabel‘s kitten's tail.

As the children gathered ‘round her,
Loud partners of her woe,
To try to dress the bleeding wound.
And say, “ perhaps ’twould grow;"
Young Milton, with an air of guilt
' Which no one seemed to see,
'Said, ‘- I know how it happened,
Jfist as true as true can be.
“ ’Twas that old turtle in the pond,
He took it with a snap,
I saw him when he came to land
To take his morning nap.“

This version was accepted,
But in his clear blue eye_
Lay sorrow for the thoughtless deed

Which made him tell alie.

Tnomas. A. E. J

..—.__....___

‘TEE PHYSICAL CARE OF CHILDREN.

It often occurs to me to notice how great
progress has been made in the physical
’care and training of young children within
the past twenty-five years, and especially
‘ in the direction of overcoming or avoiding
tendency to deformity or bodily deficiencies.
. If the children of the present age do not
came into the world perfect in form and
senses, science can nearly always remedy,
or at least alleviate the defect. A great
deal of physical pain and suffering, not to
speak of the mortification and embarrass-
ment which produce mental tortures quite
as keen, is saved to the youth of to-day,
by the greater intelligence, the better un-
derstanding of physiological structure and
the requirements of health, on the part of
parents. Once, a deformity or malforma-
tion was thought to be “the will of God,”
and no measures taken to correct or alleviate
it. The victim suffered all his life long.

‘ I can remember crying myself to sleep,
night after night, with an aching tooth,
when I was a mere child of eight and ten
years. Nobody thought of taking me to a
dentist for relief. Ten years later a little
cousin passed through a like ordeal, and
again no measures for relief beyond an oc-
casional poultice, were thought of. One of
my school friends would have been a very
fine looking girl but for her uneven, ir-
; regular, prominent teeth, which disfigured
her mouth. A little forethought on her
,- parents’ part might have prevented this by
the simple extraction of two of the crowded
molars, leaving room for the others to
estraighten out. A lady friend recently told
me that even after she had come to fifteen

years of age, when she herself first really
comprehended that the irregularity of her
upper front teeth threatened to “ spoil her
month,” she went to a dentist and had one
pulled, adding that had she possessed the
courage to have had. another taken out, as
the man of pincers advised, her teeth would
have undoubtedly been perfectly even and
regular. “ But,” said she, “that gap right
in the very front did‘ look so big 1 did not
think it would fill up, and regretted, at first,
that 1 had done anything at all.” But in
time it did close up, and those teeth that
were being crowded out edgewise, grew to
fill it, much to her satisfaction. “Mother
never said a word about my teeth; they
ought to have been attended to when I was
ten years old. 1t was not till I saw the
difference between my own and other girls’

teeth, that anything was done.’-’

There are mothers in this city who take

their children to a dentist on as every six
months, that their teeth may be examined
and the first indications of decay checked
or alleviated, faults of growth corrected,
and the formation of tartar removed or pre-
vented. It costs a little money and some
trouble, but less than “store teeth” will
cost by and by. The uses of a toothbrush
were unknown in the youth of many mid-
dle-aged people of to—day; but now even the
six-year-old is taught that he must brush his
teeth as well as his hair.
We remember how, in “ Little Women,”
Amy went to bed the night before some
festivity, with a clothes-pin on her nose,
vainly hoping to convert it from retrousse to
classic over night. Well, it was so emin-
ently girlish we all laughed, of course, but
“there’s something in it.” The wife of
the “big man ” of a littlevillage in Illinois
had the sharpest nose I ever saw; it was al-
most a “ needle point.” Speaking of it one
day, she said she was certain it was the re-
sult of the constant use of a pocket hand-
kerchief in her childhood; she had a series
of colds which developed catarrh, and the
inevitable adjunct, the handkerchief, de-
veloped the nose.

Not long since, a correspondent of one
of our exchanges asserted that the promin-
ent ears her baby inherited from his father,
were made much less conspicuous by the
.wearing’of a soft ribbon over them, which
held them closer to the head; and also by
care in laying him down or holding him,
never to press his ears forward.

How many hands we see, with ill-shaped
nails; perhaps bitten to the quick and stub-
by and blunt because of the uncleanly habit,
spoiling the hands. I like to see a well-

 

formed, well-kept hand; it may be brown

or hardened by labor, but it can be well-
shaped, with trim-cut. clean nails; and to
my thinking the firm brown hand, with
perhaps a callus across the palm, is more
beautiful than a soft, white “ pin-
cushion-y” one. There is a good deal of
expression in a hand; I fancy it is some-
thing of an index to character. I would
not take’pains to impress upon a girl the
propriety of keeping her hands white, but 1
would take. severe measures to prevent her
from spoiling her fingers by lunching on
her finger nails. BEATRIX.
__—....—-—.

APRIL HOPES.

Not quite April yet, but none too soon
for planning and hoping for the coming
summer. That is the beauty of farm life.
Last spring’s hopes may have failed of
fruition, but who knows what this new
summer may bring forth; so I study the
seed catalogues and decide to have an acre
of tomatoes as big as a man’s head, just
like Maule’s, and a moon-flower all over the .
house like Wilson’s. ‘

' But my poultry business shall first have
a thorough renovating. I have been keep-
ing pure bred Plymouth Rocks, but think
they have been rather overrated. To he
sure they are unexceptienable for table use,
but they are only moderate layers, and if
a Plymouth Rock hen thinks she wants to
raisea family the only way to get the idea
out of her head is to-take the head with it.
Then you may keep the poultry house free
from lice, out it will not avail much as long
as the fowls carry lice with them, and do
not give themselves dust baths. The Ply-
mouth Rocks do not scratch up your gar-
den—no, they stand around and wait for
you to feed them. In short, they are lazy;
and I hate shiftlessness in fowls as well as
in folks. Then I like to make the personal
acquaintance of my hens, which I cannot do,
as there are thirty precisely alike. So when
I set one hen and seven or eight others
conclude that nest is the only desirable
place to raise a family and they all set
there in a pile; then when I throw the sur-
plus hens into the water to break up the
setting idea, I am just as likely to douse the
original hen as any of the others, they
being precisely alike. Last summer I had
One Langshan rooster which though only
half grown himself took charge of three
little‘ chickens whom their “triflin”
mother had deserted. He fed them days
and brooded them nights, and did every-
thing for them an old hen could have done
except to cluck. Though he is not hand-

 

some, still as a recognition of his goodness

 


 

2 THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

of heart and as a reward of merit, he shall
for the coming summer he the Grand
Worthy Chief of the whole flock.

To return to the fascinating seed cata-
logues: I want a large quantity of the lit-
tle cherry tomatoes that grow with a husk,
as they are-better preserved than almost
anything else. And for cabbages, any of
the kinds that grow to a point the worms
cannot damage as they do those with a
loose habit of growth. I want a clump of
peppermint, but I do not find the seed ad-
vertised in any catalogue I have seen.
Can anyone tell me where to find it? And
flowers, I shall sow the seeds of perennials
mostly, as they come up new e‘very spring
with no further trouble of sowing the
seed. But among flowers it is hard to
select only the few that my time, sket-
book and muscle will permit me to culti-
vate. I want a bed of glowing poppies,
another of double portulacca, a root of the
“August lilies, still and stainless” and
morning-glories all over the kitchen win-
dows. Isthere amore beautiful flower than
purple and crimson morning-glory? And
perennial phlox that will be a perpetual
joy, and pinks and pansies. Don’t remind
me that the ground from which all this
loveliness is to spring is still three feet
under the snow. Some of our joys we
possess only in anticipation. Let us at
east have that. HULDAII PERKINS.

Promma.

_._—_...————

A FEW FLOWERS.

 

It seems a little hasty to talk of flowers
with snow drifts still heaped all about the
yard, and the cold wind shrieking madly
over them; and yet, it is the season when the
most of us raise them in the greatest pro-
fusion and beauty. With our feet upon the
fender and the early and alluring catalogue
inhand, it is a pleasant and easy task to
dot the lawn and fill the garden with bloom.
With the advent of spring comes the real
work, the busy hen, the marauding pig, the
great family of insects and worms; and
further on the drouth, with often a con-
tinual undercurrent of opposition from the
men folks of the family.

In regard to flowers, husbands naturally
seem tofall into three classes, the sympa~
thetic, the passive and aggressive. The
first admires and aids in their culture;
the second merely lets them alone, but
the third, just so far as he dares,
makes war upon them. He sees the hen
scratching up the seed, the duck dining off
the tender cotyledons; or the pig doing a
second plowing, with malicious satisfaction,
for he regards them as a piece of feminine
foolishness which has no money in it. Is it
any wonder that the wife of such a husband
with this opposition added to all of Nature’s:
should tire of failures, tire of the “shw
shoe-lug,” and give up the struggle only
to have the few flowers her hungry heart
craves laid upon her coflin! But when our
worthy granger thinks there is no money
in them, he makes a great mistake, for we
all know the value of cheerfulness in its
eflect upon both health and labor. The
ministration of their beauty would pervade
the whole house, keep out the blues and the
medicine bottle, and even add to the flavor
of the butter-pats.

 

Lest I am neglecting my chosen theme
and dwelling too much upon the faults of
mankind, 1 would say that the most of us
in beginning the culture of flowers, attempt
too much selecting rare varieties without
being able to give them their favorite ele-
ments or needed care. For the first season
I would recommend the “Ps—” pansies,
phlox, petunias and pinks, as giving the
most for the least care, blooming from July
until after hard frost. Pansies are decided
by their lovers to be the most human of all
Fiora’s treasures; and certainly no woman
can feel quite alone who has one to look at.

“ They are company,” exclaims an enthu- .

siast, “and better company than people,
for I can talk to them and they never sauce
me back.”

They suffer from heat and drouth. but
will bear a great deal of both and come on
beautifully in the autumn, often in a shelter-
ed piace, turning their wise faces upon the
Thanksgiving turkey, and if anything
outside the human race understands the
pathos of that fowl’s fate we are sure it
must be a pansy.

Sunflowers and single chrysanthemums, or
“chamomile ” as it is commonly called, are
the best for chickens and children. The
latter, set out in any vacant spot, will take
care of itself and bear childish attention as
well as a cat, while the former as a back-
ground will give us much coarse beauty,
form a good screen for any unsightly ob-
ject, and scientists say, make our malaria
its daily fare. As a drouth is pretty cer-
tain to .come at some time during the sea-
son, beds for the annuals should be situated
near the well or kitchen where they may be
easily watered and watched by their busy
admirer within. Another good place to put
them is in the vegetable garden, especially
when this is planted in rows to allow cul-
tivating. The cultivator leaves but little
weeding and I am fortunate enough to have
that done for me, when the garden is de-
clared cleaned. Nature seems to thwart us
in many ways, but after all she makes gen-
erous returns for whatever she receives from
her lovers. The woman who leaves her
breakfast table untouched and rambles out
to see what fresh beauty the night has
brought forth in her flower-beds returns in
better spirit for her day’s work; and going
out in the early evening, “ tired to death,”
she pulls a weed here and there, perhaps
does a little transplanting, and feels rested,
through the subtle agency of her “few
flowers.” a. H. J.

THOMAS. -
—-—...———-—

KINDNESS.

 

I have been reading many very scathing
remarks because Evangeline would train a
girl to be a tony housekeeper, by her
friends. I remember that Evangeline has
written very excellent letters for the
HOUSEHOLD; in fact I have considered her
one of the best. And when our Editor
called for “more copy,” Evangeline was
ever to the front with something good,
and not one kind word of approval has
been written. No doubt there are families
who live in that style, and although we
may not approve, yet we may learn much
by reading her letters and may in our
practice leave the hard places out. in that

way there is good in criticising one another,
I confess I do many things that my own
folks do not approve. There is a house al-
most opposite; there is semething going on«
there; and should we all go and see what it.
was, perhaps we would have as many difo
ferent opinions. I hope Evangeline is not
disturbed by these self-constituted critics.
Pnamwxnn. ANTI-OVER.
——-+o¢——-—

warms.

 

“ Only a violet blossom
You gave me in years lon ago, '
And at to my heart it stil whis ers,
Rec g your cheek’s youthfu glow."

How sweetly- the words, sung in a sweetie
girlish voice, floated out to the old man
as he sat in the shade of the big maplel‘.
And it all came back to him, so real—the
vision of the girlish wife as she stood that
bright summer morning with violets in her-
hair, on her dress, in her hand; and with
her lovely violet eyes beaming with such.
love and confidence in him, voiced the re-
sponses that made them one. Oh it seems
such a long time since then! It seems-
much longer that she has lain so peacefully
sleeping in the graveyard with the mound
of violets over her. As he brushed the tears
away, he blessed the words that made him
both happy and sad.

Only an old canteen picked up among
some rubbish, but the memories it
awakened made the old soldier’s cheek
glow and his heart beat; again he is among
his comrades on the tented field, on picket
guard. out foraging, in battles; and always-
the canteen is by his side. Instinctively
Miles O‘Rlelley’s song trembles on his lips:
“There are bonds of all sorts in this world of

Fetterguo-g’friendship; and ties of flowers

And true lover’s knots—I ween.
The boy and the girl are bound by a kiss

But there‘s never a bond, old friend, like this,
We’ve drank from the same canteen.”

Only atiny pebble that the child threw
into the pool, but he opened his eyes in
wonderment that such a. succession of rip-
ples should come from it; wider and wider
they grew, the pebble had sunk to the bot-
tom, the ripples had floated ofi to the
river, the surface smiled and sparkled in the»
sunshine.

Only a word, written by that awful
Evangeline,—that utterly utter—immoral
Evangeline, and had abomb exploded in our
very midst, there. could not have been a
greater furore. I felt like calling upon all
the Muses and shades of departed grandeur
and invoking the help of my lucky star,
when I saw that array of cannons, all point-
ed in my direction, when all that fine
rhetoric was hurled at my head, but was I
annihilated? Oh no, I just lay back in my
chair and laughed; not a little chagrined.
laugh, but agood, hearty, “ solid comfort ”
laugh; and right here and now I extend the
right hand of fellowship to every one of
you and welcome you to our circle, not
with the fashionable tips of the fingers, but
a hearty squeeze. I am so glad that to me
and me only, can be ascribed the glory of
brightening up those ideas, bringing forth.
those dusty, cobwebbed views, inking up
that pen, that had lain idle so long. Oh!
my dear sisters, be true to yourselves. Do
not. I beg, let any pet hobby run away with
your sense. Evangeline’s head is level. She

 

is balanced evenly. That mother’s “beau-


 

THE HOUSEHOLD.

3

 

tiful boy ” can eat a slice of my fruit cake,
he will never contract a liking for strong
drink from it; of course if he has a nice
discrimination he will discover instantly
that it is not sorghum cake with raisins in
it; I should want him to, assuredly. No, I
should not treat him to Charlotte Russe that
had the cake soaked in port wine, nor the
pudding sauce floating in raspberry wine. I
have a boy of my own, and I learned the
Golden Rule at my sainted mother’s knee.
The welfare of your daughters is very near
to me, for I have two daughters of my own.
With all my fine theories, with all my im-
perfectirns and shortcomings, I have a
mother’s heart. ‘There are-very few‘young
housewives who commence life surrounded
withafamily of little ones. Must she re-
nounce the tidy habits and neat ways with
“the ring?” Her feet can be tidily dressed
in soft slippers as well as buttoned boots.
Better leave out one silk from‘the wardrobe
and invest in some neat, everyday apparel.
Sickness will not excuse dirt and sloven-
liness. Many things about the house can
be left undone and have to be. when chil-
dren are sick and but one pair of hands to
do it all. But let the years 'bring their
duties and cares, don’t anticipate them. Be
equal to assuming them when they do come.
I believe my John would “kick” if I
'served the very same food every morning
from Thanksgiving until now, with no
variation, but I find there’s nothing like
getting used to a thing, we can bolt down
most anything, just from force of habit.
The biggest “ pills" I ever swallowed had
“nary a bit” of sugar coating. I have
bolted them however, and smiled. The
sweet potatoes I used last year, and in fact
every year, I purchased in the market at
Battle Creek; never having raised that com:
modity I cannot say when they would be
fit for use,from‘ our Michigan fields. The
Astrachan apples were bought also. My
formula of work was given as each fruit
and vegetable came along. I used two
varieties of plums, one a reddish plum, the
other the blue damson or frost plum, both
purchased, not raised. The care of the
pork came in November—the weather was
variable, not warm—and as the men salted
it, it is keeping all right. I judge it was
taken care of correctly. The last of the
sausage was eaten the 24th of January, and
the hams and shoulders are just smoked
ready for use when desired. We have used
beef for some time.

All these daintiy flavored, easily made
soups the average country girl can make.
There has been so much boasting in our
little HOUSEHOLD about the facilities that
the country affords at the present time for
good living, the meat cart’s regular visits
to our doors, soup bones at twenty-five
cents certainly are not expensive nor be-
yong the average family’s reach. My
theories amount to just this: That living
ten miles'from town lindul'ge in soup of
some kind every week in the year, and
have what vegetables I want, whether it is
sweet potatoes or egg plant, or cauliflower;
and while my bills of fare look well on
paper, they are also satisfying and inviting
on the table; it is not drudgery to prepare
them. While a strip of codfish, boiled
potatoes, rice or corn starch pudding, is a

 

good enough dinner for any hungry person,
who would relish it three hundred and sixty-
flve consecutive days? It would be like
boarding house hash and dried apple pie,
good once in a a while, but not so good for
a steady diet. It is hard work to get out of
an old rut, that one has been in a good
while; it is hard to turn right about in one’s
manner of managing a household, and
ministering to the wants of a family, and I
would not advise any one to do it——if they
are really satisfied that their way is good
enough. This is a great big world, it is
filled with enterprising, growing people. It
is one of the privileges of our freedom, that
we can think and do what-we like, so long
asit is accordingto law. We can all talk
plain English, and when we don’t like any-
thing we can say so; but there are so many
ways of saying the same thing, I find.
There is the hard, unfeeling way that re-
pels rather than attracts people; the suave,
deceitful way that is as thin and flimsy as
tissue paper; the kind, Christian, whole-
souled, big-hearted way that leads us to
mend our ways and inquire within, if we
are all right. Now tell me, dear old HOUSE-
HOLD, which is the better-and where do we

stand? EVANGELINE.
BATTLE CREEK.
———-—->oo—-——

MOURNING WEAR.

When Henry Ward Beecher died, instead
of the long drapery of black crape attached
to the door-bell—the usual sign that death
has entered a family—a cluster of fresh
bright roses announced the demise of the
great preacher. And Mrs. Beecher, I am
told, wears no mourning robes in token of
her bereavement; only her usual quiet, lady-
like attire. But in spite of her good ex-
ample, and that of others who dare to live
up to their convictions and their religion,
we shall wear our black crape, and be
deeply solicitous about the make-up of our
mourning.

Henrietta cloth, trimmed with crape,
makes the regulation first dress for a
widow. To indicate the most profound
grief, the front and sides of the skirt are
covered with . crape cut straight, lined
throughout with crinoline, and placed
quite smooth on the foundation skirt.
There is a very short drapery of Henrietta
cloth above this; and the full back drapery
is long enough to fully cover the foundation
skirt. This back drapery has a ten-inch
border of crape, which is cut to fit it all
around, being square at the corners instead
of being cut and joined in aseam. The
basque is very simple in shape and has a
band of the crape down the front, but is not
trimmed round the bottom. The cuffs and
collar are of crape. The wrap is of Hen-
rietta cloth, in any becoming style, is
wadded, and trimmed with a band of crape,
made by laying the crape on the pattern
and cutting it out in shape, to obviate
seams. The bonnet is a frame covered
plainly with crape, except the front, where
there are a few folds; inside the brim is
“the widow’s ruche,” a single, small puff of
white crepe lisse; the ties are black gros-
grain ribbon with cord edges, and are only
halfa yard long. The crape veil is long
enough to come within ten inches of the
bottom of the dress in front, and half that

 

fl

length behind, and the hem is half a yard
deep, turned up on the outside. When the
veil is no longer to be worn over the face,
but thrown back, one end is arranged on
the bonnet in a high pufled crown, and
then carried along the frame and caught in
two groups of small pleats at the end of the
crown; the other end of the veil reaches
the foot of the dress.

For other dresses fine camel’s hair and
drap d’ aims. are worn; also wide-twilled.
serges and diagonals. These are not
trimmed with crape, but the edges are
finished by many rows of stitching, or with
braiding. With these .are worn single
breasted jackets of heavy black cloth; and
black fox or lynx furs are admissible.

Mourning dresses for other relatives-—
parent, child, brother or sister—are made
in the modes prevailing for colored wool
dresses, and trimmed with braid or dull jet
passementerie. Very little if any crape is
used in them, it appears as plastron and
cuffs and collar, if at all. Dull jet beads in
a single row edging revers, cuffs and collar,
make a neat finish for black wool dresses.
A good model for a plain mourning dress is
a plain skirt with a six inch hem and a
tuck the same depth above it; the drapery
has a deep hem, forms a deep apron in
front and two wing-like points behind. The
basque may be tucked on each side the
front, or have full fronts crossing surplice
fashion. Bonnets are of crape laid on in
folds or puifs, with a trimming of crape
loops, and grosgrain ties; if a veil is worn
it is only half length and worn over the
face a couple of months. then draped on the
back of the bonnet for six months; it is
then removed entirely, and the bonnet
worn without veil; the next transition is to
straw, trimmed with loops of lustreless with

Children do not wear crape; misses only a.
little upon their first dress; their mourning
is plainly made black goods, with perhaps
a little braiding. Hats of black straw or
felt are trimmed with soft rosettes Of mourn-
ing silk, with a few black quills thrust
through them. Young ladies sometimes
prefer hats made of soft silk, trimmed with
puflings of the same.

Widows wear Byron collars and wide
cuffs of white organdy muslin finished silk.
a deep hem, with their first mourning.
These have an inch wide hem. ‘If these
are not liked, there are puffs of white lisse,
or white crape, to be worn inside sleeves
and collar. Black gauze ribbon is also
pleated and basted in. Linen cuffs and
collars are worn with plain wool dresses,
and for more dressy wear white loopoedged
ribbon is used as is the black above men-
tioned. A plain dress can be made suitably
dressy for the small entertainments, family
dinners, etc., which mourners may attend,
by plastrons of alternate folds of crape and
feather edged ribbon; or of crape folds
framed in revere edged by or nearly covered
with dull jet beads. The high collar is
either of crabs and ribbon folds, or covered
with the beads.

Black and white satteens, ginghams in
plaids of black and white, and plain black
mulls barred with satin stripes, are mourn-
ing wear for summer, as also plain black
India silks and surahs.

I have spoken before in the H OUSEHOLD

 


 

 

4:

      

r
x- I

THE HOUSEHOLDQ'V " if

 

of the necessity of preserving what may be
called the unities of mourning. ‘A craps
'veil overa silk dress is out of harmony.
Black ostrich plumes are inadmissible on
a hat to be worn as mourning; only stiff
black wings are permitted. Lace also is
barred, either for trimmings or for neck-
wear. Little jewelry of any kind should :be
worn; the widow wears a jet or onyx brooch;
a long gold chain meandering over a crape
trimmed basque-or even a plainer mourn-
ing suit—is out of harmony with the toilette;
substitute a plain black ribbon if a jet
chain is not at hand.

Handkerchiefs have borders of fine lines
of black, in preference to the wide black
bands once worn. Linen collars and
cuffs are edged with the same sombre hue.
but a line of black a quarter of an inch from
the edge is much more becoming than the
black band next the skin. Gloves are black
kid or silk, with heavily stitched backs.

While on this sombre subject I want to
say that here in the city the custom of
watching with the dead has quite fallen into
disrepute. The undertaker prepares the
dead for interment, so that no further at-
tendance is necessary; the windows are left
open alittle way and the blinds closed, a
light burns dimly in the silent chamberlf
death, and the house is hushed in silence
almost as profound. When we remember
that all our offices for our beloved one are
performed, Save that of committing dust to
its kindred dust, we see how unnecessary
and uncalled for is the “sitting-up ” which
A. H. J. so justly condemns, amd which
among the young and unthoughtt‘ul, loses
its solemn significance and becomes a ser-
ious annoyance to the bereaved mourners.
I knew an instance once where one mem-
ber of a bereaved family entered the room
where the watchers sat, and found them
playing cards. “It were all one” to the
rigid form awaiting burial, but it was a
decided shock to her nervous, sensitive
temperament, already wrought to a high
tension by days and nights of watching and
anxiety. Let no one fear to adopt this in-
- novation, which is sanctioned both by usage,
good sense and propriety.

BE ATRIX.
——«o————

LOUISA M. ALCOTT.

 

It is with no ordinary sensation of regret
that the book-loving public hears that Miss
Alcott is dead. Everybody has read her
books, and laughed at the adventures or
sympathized with the misfortunes of the
“real live” boys and girls who figured in
them. And everybody will agree with the
young miss who said, the evening her death
was announced: “ Is it not sad! Miss Al-
cott is dead and we shall have no more of
her lovely books!”

Miss Alcott began to write stories when
she was but sixteen years old, and for the
next fifteen years wrote short stories.
sketches and letters, with no particular
success in a literary sense. During the
war she worked in the Washington hospi-
tals as a volunteer nurse, and when the close
of the war released her, she visited Europe
in search of health, which hadbeen impaired
’ by her arduous labors as nurse. Then she
wrote “Little Women,” the book that won
her fame; published in 1867, 100,000 copies

  

 

were sold within three years. "Her stories.
had heretofore been about boys, and it was
at the suggestion of her publisher—or rather
on his daring her to write astory about girls
and intimating she couli not do it, that she
wrote “Little Women.” Friends of the
family recognize in it the members of the
Alcott family, and in “Jo ”—the jolly, good-
humored, scribbling girl, with no nonsense
about her—the authoress herself. Her lit-
erary work was performed very much as
was “Jo’s.” When “genius burned” she
shut herself up, in an attic perhaps, any-
where where she could be undisturbed, and
wrote almost uninterruptedly until her book
was done. Then she came out of her se-
clusion. as she says herself, “tired, cross,
and hungry as a bear,” to resume her social
and domestic duties. “ An Old Fashioned
Girl" made hosts of friends, and those who
read “ Little Women ” wantedto know how
“Jo’s boys ” grew up to be “ Little Men.”
These are probably her best known works,
though “Eight Cousins ” and " Rose in
Bloom” were in her best vein.

Miss Alcott was in her fifty-sixth year at
the time of her death, being born in Ger-
mantowu in 1832. She was the daughter of
Bronson Alcott, often called “ the sage of
Concord,” and regarded as the apostle of
the Transcendental school; he was scholarly
and a deep-thinker, and contributed largely
to the philosophical literature of the period.
He died at Boston on the 4th inst., in his
eighty-ninth year; and it was in visiting
him on the lat that Miss Alcott contracted
the cold which developed spinal meningit's
and caused her death two days after his
pasaing away. She had been suffering from

nervous prostration for a long time, but was '

thought to be improving.

Personally, Miss Alcott while not beauti-
ful was yet attractive; she was tall and
stately, with blue-grey eyes, dark hair which
hada ripple in it and was always simply
dressed in flat coils at the back of her large,
shapely head, and a pleasant face full of
character and expression. lt will be long
ere she will be forgotten, either by those
who knew her personally or that far larger
contingent who admired her through her
pure, healthful, charming books.

BEATRIX.

PATJHING MEN’S CLOTHES.

 

I certainly think one of the most dis-
agreeable tasks a woman has to undertake
is the renovation of men’s clothing, es-
pecially on a farm. where clothes are worn
more closely than in cities. “A rent is the
accident of the day; a patch is premeditated
poverty,” some one has said, but most of us
prefer the latter—at least “our folks” do—
and the great thing is to make the patch as
unobtrusive as possible. A little good
judgment expended in planning, and an
effort to make the work creditable, pays.
Generally, if one has a pair of trowsers to
mend, if the knees are worn through, it is
better to set a piece in, rather than put a
patch under and cut out and fell down the
edges of the rent. Rip the seams of the leg,
cut out the worn part, taking pains to keep
the edges straight; use this for a pattern,
and out of new or partly worn pieces, cut a
piece just like it, allowing for seams. When
this is sewed in place and the seams

 

pressed, if the result is not'*“as“g’60d as ‘
new”»at least. there is the satisfactiomof
feeling one has done the best possible with
the material. So with worn coat—sleeves: set
in a new underpart, bind the edges with
cost binding (dress braid is sometimes used
in lieu of anything better but is not very
durable) and the result is quite satisfactory.

A tailor will take a partly worn suit, and
by brushing, sponging, pressing and mend-
ng, make it quite presentable. If a patch
is necessary, the edges are carefully cut by
a thread and the piece inserted “ without a
pucker.” The buttonholes are worked over,
and the worn binding renewed. I have
thought more than once I would like to see
how they manage the buttonholes.

Cannot some one give us some hints on
the subject of making over and mending
old clothes? L. c.

Dnrnorr.
———...——_

MRS. M. A. FULLER, of Fenton, Genesee
County, well known to our readers through
her contributions on floricultural subjects,
is prepared to furnish seeds of annuals, per-
ennials, and herbs, also bulbs, plants and
cuttings for the garden and greenhouse.
Write to her for what you want. She has
been sending out seeds and plants to our
HOUSEHOLD people for the past five years,
and we have yet to hear of the first com-
plaint.

.___..._____

IF you have to buy lard, remember that
though the expense seems greater at the
outset, it is really better economy to buy
leaf lard and try it out at home, than to pur-
chase the rendered lard of commerce. The
latter is almost invariably adulterated, and
has beside a large per cent of water boiled
into it. The home rendered leaf lard has
the advantage in several ways.

 

THE chief cook of Delmonico‘s cafe at
New York gets a salary of $6,000 annually,
and his commissions and rquisites amount
to about 34,000 more. W re is the woman
cook who gets more than $35 per month,
and “ why is this thus?”

 

something for Breakfast.

 

Conrrsn on Tour-Pick up a bowl-fol of
codflsh, cover it with cold water, let come to
a boil, drain in a colander, put into the basin
again with a half pint of cold milk, season
with pepper and salt; stir a tablespoonful of
flour into a generous lump of butter, stir into
the codfish, and pour over slices of buttered
toast. This dish has the merit of being appe-
tizing and easily prepared.

 

BAKED Macxnnn—Soak the fish over
night. In the morning turn on boiling water
enough to cover it, let stand a few moments,
drain, and lay the fish skin side down in a
well-buttered pan. Turn over it half atea-
cupful of sweet cream, set in the oven to
brown a little, and serve smoking hot.

 

Srumnn Eons—Break the eggs on a but-
tered tin plate, set in a steamer over boiling
water and steam until the whites are cooked.
In this way the whites of the eggs are tender
and light, and can be eaten by invalids. with
impunity.

 

RICE Carma—Take a cupful of cold boiled
rice, thin with milk to the consistency of
buckwheat batter, salt slightly, beat in one
egg and a handful of flour, and bake like
pancakes on a griddle.