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DETROIT, MAY 12, 1888.

 

 

THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement.

 

 

THE LITTLE KING.

 

A little face to look at,
A little face to kiss,

Is there anything, I wonder,
That's half as sweet as this!

A l‘ttle cheek to dimple
When smiles begin to grow, .
A little mouth betraying
Which way the kisses go.

A slender little ringlet.
A rosy little ear,

A little chin to quiver.
When falls the little tea r.

A little hand so fragize,

All through the night to hold,
Two little feet so tender,

To tuck in from the cold.

'Iwo eyes to watch the sunbeam
That with the shadow plays—
A darling little baby
To kiss and love always.

—————w————-

THE ELDEST DAUGHTER.

 

Six cabinet photographs, spread out in a
row, from the thoughtful girl of sixteen with
her mother’s brow and eyes, to the dimpled,
laughing child of three, whose mischievous
face seemed to say she found it great fun to
have her picture taken. Quitea family, in
these degenerate days when babies are
thought incumbrances, not blessings; and
evidently an intelligent one, for the pic-
tured faces were bright and interesting,
and riant with life and hope. The face of
the oldest girl attracted me particularly, it
was such a womanly one, as if she had al-
ready tasted not alone of life’s pleasures
but also of its responsibilities. A few
words of inquiring comment brought out
the fact I had already guessed, that she
was “mother’s right hand,” and the
dependence of both father and mother.
Kate could take charge of the house if her
mother was ill for a few days; already her
little brothers and sisters claimed her help
over lessons and out of sundry juvenile
scrapes. Baby Maude was “ Kate’s girl,”
and took her troubles to that sympathizer
instead of her mother. I could well im-
agine what a blessing and comfort she
must be to the mother, in a home where the
income, not quite equal to the demands of
a large, growing family, and a good social
position, demanded some economies to
keep the “ best foot always foremost.”

Well, I thought, it is not amiss the eldest
daughter should be her mother’s stay and
reliance, in such a family, if undue bur-
dens, either in the way of responsibilty or
labor, are not laid upon her, nor all her
young life absorbed by the demands of
It develops womanliness

others. and

 

strength of character to have some duties
to do for others’ sakes; it teaches unsel-
fishness to be sparing of a mother’s toil, and
self-restraint to control the whims and
wants of younger children. It is not bad
discipline—if it does not go so far as to
rob youth of its lightsomeness and
spontaniety, and makes the girl old in
thought and action while yet young in
years.

But who has not seen other eldest
daughters who were bearing burdens far
beyond their strength, either of mind or
body, precociously developed in the school
of poverty or necessity; upper servants
without wages in their own homes? Who
has not seen a slip of a girl not over a
dozen years old, almost staggering under
the weight of a fat lump of a baby that
would weigh as much, almost. as she her-
self? Who has not seen the younger
children gather round that patient eldest
sister to be helped and comforted and
mended and “done up,” when the mother
put them off with “ Run to sister; don’t you
see I’m busy?” Too many times she is the
patient little drudge, a modern Cinderella
sitting in the domestic ashes, the one every-
body appeals to if they want anything, and
nobody ever thinks of thanking. Up stairs
for a spool of thread, down cellar for a
milkpan, to the wheat-field with a lunch
for the men, in the orchard for apples for
pies, generally with two or three satellites
following her like the tail of a comet, al-
ways bidden to hurry and always asked
“ What made you so long”—-no one ever
seems to think she can be tired, or that her
work amounts to anything. Thoughtful
and careful far beyond her years, she is
yet chidden because she forgets or “ didn’t
think.” The fat baby makes her round-
shouldered, and she outgrows her clothes
so fast that she is never presentable, but
makes the acquaintance of her mother’s
guests through the cracks in the parlor
door; if you were to ask her what she was
born for she would tell you, “ To mind the
baby.” Truly, it is a great responsibility
to be the eldest of a large family.

As she grows older, she usually finds her
education in self-abnegation continues.
Those younger sisters, who have all along
been so accustomed to call upon her for
assistance, and to prefer themselves before
her, soon push her to one side, though still

exacting the eldest sister’s oflices from her-

They are apt to be brighter and prettier
and more vivacious than she, and remem-
bering how her own youth was shortened
and how its deprivations fretted her, she
unsemshly tells you she " wants the girls to

    

 

have a good time,” and puts self aside to

secure their good times, a sacrifice they

seldom realize till maturity brings a clearer
idea of all that was done for them, so cheer-

fully, so uncomplainingly. She supervises
the tea-table if they have company, and
tries not to have them mortified by domes-
tic shortcomings. She manages to procure
many little indulgences for them; if she

earns money it is often less hers than

theirs; they absorb her pocket-money with

their many wants, and she becomes in

womanhood what she was in girlhood, the'
wheel-horse of the family, the one who

really bears the burdens and shoulders the

responsibilities, for the mother fails under

her advancing years, and relies on her

girl to “fill the gaps.” Soon she is set

aside as “the old maid sister,” and left out

of all plans and pleasures unless her labor

makes her the machine by which they are

to be executed. Her life is not unhappy,

quite, since sacrifice for others’ sake al—

ways brings a certain sort of content with

it, but as the younger sisters marry and go

away to homes of their own, returning to

family reunions with husbands and chil-

dren in whom they are seifishly absorbed,

may she not be pardoned if she looks back

upon her life feeling she has missed some-

thingumissed some development which

might have rounded her life into more

beautiful and perfect symmetry? All she

has asked of those she has so patiently and

faithfully served has been love and appre-
ciation; and these, perhaps, are felt most
strongly when the worn hands are quietly
crossed for an eternal rest—it is only clods

falling upon a cofiin-lid that can stir some
hearts to tardy justice.

You think this an exaggerated, over-
drawn picture? Not so; it is far too true
to life in many instances. Not all mothers
are so thoughtless or unjust as to ‘permit
such usurpation of the rights of one child by
another; not all fathers are so unobservant
as to permit it; but in nearly every neigh-
borhood you may find some eldest daughter
who is giving her youth to “the family,”
and of whose service little account is made,

BEA'l‘RIX.

_____4..__

KEEP a small slate with a pencil securely
attached hanging in the kitchen or pantry
if you are troubled with a “poor memory.”
Whenever there is a deficiency noted or any
article in stock becomes exhausted, note the
fact on the slate and consult it before going
to town. Then you will never be com-
pelled to dispatch a small boy in a great
hurry to a neighbor’s for a " cup 0’ sugar”
or a “ drawin’ 0’ tea,” and wait for him to

make a tardy trip—for the small boy never
hurries.


 

2 THE ' HOUSEHOLD.

 

WHAT IS WOMAN’S DUTY T0
WOMAN.

[Paper read before the Ladies‘ Literary Union
0 Albion, March 29th, by Mrs. M. E. Henry]

The subject I have chosen is a very broad
one. 1 did not select it because'I thought
I could do it justice, but because in the
closing of this nineteenth century, the
woman question in all its phases, seems so
much more prominent than in all the past.
Women never claimed so many rights, so
great privileges, such unopposed entrance
into any and all avenues of promo-
tion and all kinds of work as at the present
time. With all this advancement do our
duties as women stand still or do they
multiply in proportion? Look at woman
in all parts of the globe; the farther ad-
vancement in civilization, the more women
are respected, the more privileges are
granted, and the higher her aspirations. Is
there a country where women occupy so in-
dependent a position as in America? There
is no place where they are treated with so
much deference by men even the laws
framed by men, secure them advantages
which are denied men.

Now in consideration of her position and
privrleges what are her duties to her sister
woman? Who can tell? Every woman
has duties to herself first; how few con-
sider this properly. What are her duties to
herself? First of all her health, which
includes cleanliness, rest when weary,
plenty of fresh air, and Some time to culti-
vate her mind; the amount of that depends
on how many duties she owes others; but
she never owes others so much as to en-
tirely neglect herself. I think every woman
owes it to herself to cultivate her beauty as
well as her mind. If I had time I would
like to write a chapter on that one thing.

Woman's next duty is to her daughters,
to teach them all she herself knows that
will help them avoid the mistakes she has
made, and help them make a success of
life and look upon the world from a business
point of view. Let them choose their own
life work, then insist that it shall be per-
fectly mastered, remembering Carlyle says
"Blessed is the man who has found his
work; he needs no other blessedness.”
“There is always room at the top; it is the
lower rooms that are always full,” just from
incompetency. Thoroughly competent house-
keepers get i’rom $12 to $15 per week now
in‘large cities, with but a little of the
daintiest part of the work to do; but they
have to know how everything should be
done. and to see that it is done as it should
be. It looks to me as if the profession of
housekeeper or cook would soon rank
among the most lucrative. After the
daughter has mastered her profession insist
upon it that she shall practice it, giving a
large share of her time to it; her mind
will grow broad and healthy from dwelling
on healthy, sensible subjects, and no matter
which way fortune’s wheel may turn she is
independent. .

Woman’s next duties are to her sons!
Some of you no doubt are wondering what
that has to do with woman’s duties to
women. How many married women have
not thought, it their husband’s mother had
taught the man she married to be a little

. .____....-,..~4_...._._..... .W

 

different in some resmcts. she would be
thankful to say the least? Here it is that
the duties to sons are duties to some
woman; think of your own early married
life, and you will know what your duties in
this direction are better than I can tell you.
And remember the conditions of the future
generations depend largely upon the train-
ing of the present generations. If all
children had always been trained right, there
would be no need of reformatories and
prisons, jails and penitentiaries, and I had
almost said almhouses, but Jesus said, “The
poor ye have always with you:” He taught
all through His life to give to the poor, com-
fort the afflicted and care for the sick.

I wish I could tell you of all women are
doing for women in our own and foreign
lands. In San Francisco and Oakland.
California, there are 3-3 charity kindergartens.
Mrs. Stanford supports five of them in Oak-
land, three other wealthy senators’ wives
each support one. ]n Chicago the good
women have established an erring women’s
home; this is to reach girls who have been
bettayed by promise of marriage, many of
them of good families, who in their shame
leave home to- commit suicide; they are
doing a noble work trying to make useful
and respectable members of society of them.
There is a state reformatory at Colorado
Springs for unfortunate women. There are
industrial schools for girls in New York
and San Francisco, managed and largely
supported by women; Mrs. Mary A. Dubois
tells her experience of over 35 years in
Nursery and Children’s hospital in New
York. The Girls’ Industrial School in San
Francisco was begun by Mrs. Sarah B.
Cooper and her Bible class, with a pledge
of only $7 50 per month; the total receipts
reached $12,000 in 1885. These girls are
taught every thing necessary for a woman to
know, to make a pleasant, happy home.
It is wonderful what women are doing for
women in foreign lands; I think I may
safely say there are three female mission-
aries to one male, there are more needed.
Those of you have read of Ramabai or read
her book, will understand the need of
women to do a duty to the poor degraded
women of India. How many good noble
women, born in the lap of luxury and well
educated, are giving their time, their money.
I had almost said their lives, to go into re-
formatories, asylums and schools, for the
saving of the lowest class; seeing the
possibilities where we see nothing but filth
and vice, they are raising the fallen,
educating the ignorant, and trying to get
laws passed to protect the weak and prevent
the propagation of that class. We may not
be able to do any of the things these
women are doing, but we can all do some-
thing to elevate the minds and tastes of
those less favored than ourselves, who are
around us. There is no limit to the im-
provement of the mind in this world; and
Swedenborg says we shall continue to grow
in knowledge and good works to all eternity.

We may have an influence over our
neighbors that will last into the far reaches
of eternity; is it not our duty then to make
that influenceagood one? The more we
do for our neighbor woman, the more we
a to doing for the advancement of the com‘
ing generation. What she learns will be

 

reflected in her children; and how much
faster they will advance. for even a little
light from the mother! Also, many a poor
ignorant girl has grown into a noble,
saintly old age by having the sympathy and
association of a good, well educated, well
bred Christian woman. Let us each con-
sider our neighbor with all the kindly feel-
ings we would wish in our own behalf.
Our neighbor is of just as much importance,
no matter how lowly, as ourselves in the
sight of God: He is “norespecter of per-
sons,” and vie arc commanded “not to
cause one of these little ones to offend,”
also “ to love our neighbor as ourselves;” in
all our relations or intercourse let us use all
the good sense we have or can command,
and not be watching for slights; as the
young man told his mother who was ques-
tioning him a little more closely than was
agreeable: “What is the use of hunting
for something you do not want to find?”
We can not all be leaders, some must be
followers; as fodowers no one envies us, or
watches for our mistakes to criticise. We
all wish to be loved; else why all the
jealousies in families and neighborhoods?
I do not wish to be understood that those
who want love most are most jealous; those

who show most jealousy are those whose
natures have been least disciplined; perhaps
they had no wise mother to show them how
much they injure themselves in lowering
their own moral tone. Carlyle says,
“ Hatred is but an inverse love.” The
philosopher’s wife complained to the
philosopher that certain two-legged animals
without feathers spoke evil of him, and
criticised his goings out and comings in,
wherein she failed not of her share. “ Light
of my life,” answered the philosopher, “it
is their love of us unknown to themselves,
and taking a foolish shape; thank them for
it, and do thou love more wisely.” The
last stage of human perversion, it has been
said, is where sympathy corrupts itself into
envy; and the indestructible interest we
take in the doings of others has become a
joy over their faults and misfortunes; this
is the last and the lowest stage; lower than
this we cannot go. How much t:ere is for
thought in these few sentences of Carlyle’s.
Is not taking mills at little things second
cousin to envy and jeaIOUSy? and they are
own sisters of hatred. Let us judge no
one harshly; let us ask ourselves if we
would do any better or even as well under
the circumstances.

It is our duty and should be our pleasure
to make every one with whom we come in
contact happy as possible so far as in us
lies, and to make the vicinity in which we
live the better for our having lived. This
can be done by uniform courtesy and kind-
ness, if we can do no more. We do not
know the trials and heartaches of our friend
or neighbor, when we are low-spirited how
a smile or a little polite attention from an
unexpected source, will lift the cloud for a
moment, and will cheer us. Some writer
has compared the human face to a looking-
glass, it gives us back the same expression
we present there; then is it not our duty to
present a cheerful face to each other for our
own good. as well as theirs, more especially

for us who claim to be “ Daughters of the:

King?”

 

a“,


 

THE HOUSEHOLD.

   

 

3

 

DAFFODILLY’S LATEST.

 

Some fragrant memories were revived
by reading the litttle poem, “AQuestion
in Metaphysics,” by U. V. P.. of [onia,
contained in arecent number Of the HOUSE-
HOLD. U. V. P. is an old acquaintance Of
mine, made through the medium of the
HOUSEHOLD. The occasion of our first
meeting, after a correspondence of several
months, was attended- by a laughable in-
cident. It was a dark evening in March,
1887. I waited and watched the passen-
gers as they filed through the gate of the
Polk St. station in Chicago, eagerly scan—
ning the face of every woman as she passed.
seeking the stranger whose letters had long
been such pleasant visitors and whose
coming in such a manner seemed so novel.
The only guide I had was that she would
wear a black straw hat and carry a sachel.
After waiting what seemed to me a very
long time, I selected the only woman who
appeared to be a stranger; one who wore a
black straw hat knocked sideways, a queer
cut cloak, and her arms full of green paper
boxes. Just as she made a rush for the
gentlemen’s sitting room I grabbed her arm
and asked, “ Is your name Debbi?” Turn-
ing on me fiercely she replied, “No, ’taint.”
This was a relief. When the real lady
“ with black straw hat and sachel ” mater-
ializ 3d and recognized me by the picture I
had sent, I was truly thankful. What a
merry time we had and what talking when
we reached home where Vashti had the lit-
tle dinner ready, and what an Old friend
she seemed after staying with us six weeks!

U. V. P. is a little woman Of the dark
order, with an active brain and ambition
enough for twenty women.

Later on, during the summer, “Strong-
Minded Girl ”—“S. M. G.”—let me know
through the Editress that she was in
Chicago. She made us a little visit which
we appreciated highly. She IS a brown-
haired, gentle, intellectual girl, without a
trace of the “ strong-minded” flavor.

I wish I knew personally, a good many
more of the HOUSEHOLD people. Has any
one ever thought that we might have a
grand convention some time where we
could shake hands all round? It does not
seem to me an impossible thing to propose.

I want to-day to offer thanks to the
HOUSEHOLD, which has so long come to
me like a familiar friend, following me
faithfully round through all the changes
made since“first we met.” For the past
five months I have been a “prey to pros-
perity,” have luxuriated in it and lived off
the fruit Of others’ toil, and enjoyed it too.
The contrast is wide between “hustling”
about early and late for a living, and being
settled in the best room in a good boarding
house, with no duties more onerous than
getting up at seven o’clock in the morning,
breakfasting at quarter to eight and kissing
one’s husband goodbye at half past eight. I
will not in this letter however say anything
about what Ithink upon the subject of un-
married independence. It has its charms.
There is no benefit without a tax, has been
wis 'ly said.

As to St. Louis, I do not like it at all as
a city. The greater part of my time has
been spent in the church. When I first

      
   
  

 

came I suggested that we swing a hammock
in the vestibule and stay there. My hus-
band is a Methodist and has belonged to
the Union M. E. church for ages, or ever
since this particular church was organized,
and every one who became a member was
required to take the oath of allegiance to the
government. 1 have never attended a
church where so much work was done by
the ladies, and to me such a lot Of needless
fuss to accomplish nothing, but then I
join right in because “somebody might sry
something, you know.” So it goes and I
am not half as good a citizen as when
working industriously and giving the
“widow’s mite” Wherever it was possible.
There is a good deal Of humbug in “re-
ligion” as well as in other affairs. There
are plenty Of clever and good people in S:
Louis. ltliink something less than three
thousand have been introduced to me and I
probably remember the names of ten.
What I think or say does not disprove the
fact that St. Louis isa great and magnificent
city. When I have seen it in summer
clothes it will no doubt be more engaging.
81'. Lows. DAFFODILLY.
___..,.__._

HOUSE DRESSES AND SUMMER
MOURNING.

 

A reader of the HOUSEHOLD wishes
directions how to make the style of dresses
that the famous Flora McFlimsey didn’t
havendresses to work in, or. house dresses
of calico and muslin. If a print dress is to
be worn entirely for wear in the kitchen,
mornings, it is economy of labor and
material to make it just as plainly as pos-
sible—a plain straight skirt, with a half—
fitting sacque, or a blouse waist attached to
the skirt, will “fill the bill ” satisfactorily,
and is at least as neat-looking as alimp
ruffle or an overskirt with half the loopings
out. But if the dress is to be worn after-
noons as a ‘.‘ fix-up,” and when fallen from
its pristine freshness worn for business,
perhaps a little more elaborate style might
be desirable.

The young woman who waits on our
table wears adress of striped chsviot at a
shilling a yard, made with a plain skirt
gathered to a belt, waist with a deep yoke
and a sailor collar and deep square ends as
a finish. She looks very neat in it, too.
The skirt might be improved by the addition
of a straight flounce a quarter of a yard
deep, round the bottom, and three tucks
above it, the flouuce set on under the lower
tuck, which thus conceals the seam.

A friend is making up a ten cent satteen,
having agarnet ground with small yellow
figures on it, fora school dress. It has a
plain skirt gored in the usual fashion of
skirts, a long drapery containing two
breadths of the material draped in a point
at the back, and a Square apron front. The
waist is a jacket or sacque, almost close
fitting, tucked in half-inch tucks back and
frbnt, and shaped at the waist by taking
little darts or seams between the tucks on
the wrong side. Such a dress wouli be
quite dressy for home wear Of an after-
noon, and could be worn a long time with
out washing. But, when washed, these
cheap satteens lose all their prettiness.

As for muslin dresses, beyond the fact
that rufiles are to again ornament the skirts,

o

 

fl

and that lace is no longer used for trim«
ming them, I have nothing new to ofier.
The cold weather, which has kept up the
coal stoves and made us cling to our winter
flannels with affection, does not inspire us
with much interest in muslins and lawns.
We are promised a revival of the old-
fashioned lawns this year, but I have not
seen any as yet. Ribbons are to be used
profusely as garniture, and two-inch watered
ribbon, in all colors, has been selling at
25 cents per yard. Even at these rates, the
ribbons on a dress Often cost as much as
the goods—if of lawn.

Alady asks what are suitable goods for
mourning wear in summer. Nun’s veiling.
Henrietta cloth, clairette, crape cloth and _
tamise cloth; the latter especially suitable
for atraveling dress, which should not be
craps-trimmed. Use very little crape for
trimmings, on any dress. The cheaper
qualities, such as are usually the only grades
to be found in small towns, are not heavy
enough for the requirements of stylish
mourning, and are perishable to the last
degree. Dampness makes such craps “a
rag,” and it cannot be renovated like the
more expensive goods. Dust settles in it
and makes it gray and shabby; the brush
cannot touch it, of course. If you must
walk or ride any distance in your mourning,
be content to have it simple black, with per.
haps alittle crape on the basque, and get
the silk nun's veiling for veil. Any one
except a widow can wear lustreless silk
trimmings on a hat, or a bonnet of lustreless
silk and dull jet, with propriety.

BEATRIX.

HOUSE-CLEANING.

 

There has not been a word— advisory or
deprecatory—in the HOUSEHOLD as yet
about this “topic of the time” in rural
circles, and I rather guess everybody has
been “ a doing Of it” and saying nothing
in order to get the start Of her neighbors.
For my own part I sympathize with the
families of those who clean house early; they
all have “the snifliss,” the natural con-
sequence Of taking down stoves and having
all the windows out to wash. There is
nothing so cheerless as a freshly cleaned
room without a fire, when the cast wind is
blowing. (I am like “Mr. Jarndyce,” I
detest east winds.)

House-cleaning is generally considered a
big job, and certain ambitious women who
never see a lion in the way without wanting
to “tackle him,” are never content till itis
out of the wav, no matter if the whole
family is uncomfortable and they get
pneumonia themselves. Now 1 like my
way Of beginning early and finishing late
real well; it don’t sound so fine in theory
but it works well in fact. I begin by put—
ting all the drawers in the closets and
bureaus in order, and looking over all the
winter clothing, mending such as can do
service another year, cutting up that past.
wear into carpet rags, etc., so that next fall
when winter things are needed they will be
found in order.

Just here let me advise every person who
builds a house never to be satisfied with
closets just to hang things in. Have them
fitted with drawers; they are splendid to
keep out dust and dirt, which will accumu—


4:

THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

 

late everywhere in spite of us. 1 have two
closets with three deep drawers in each and
shelves above, and they are the nicest place
in the world for sheets, towels, pillow
slips, bonnets, and such things; I would not
do without them for twice their cost. I
sprinkle cayenne pepper liberally on the
bottom of the drawers and fold sheets of
blank printing paper to fit them.

Furs I shake vigorously, beating them to
get out the dust, put back in their boxes,
and paste strips of cloth over the crack be-
tween boxes and covers. No moths can
possibly get in. Woolen articles, like
hoods, knitted caps, mittens, etc., I put
into a manilla paper sack, such as grocers
use for flour, and paste it securely. Flan-
nel blankets get a good sunning if they do
not need washing, are done up in a large
linen sheet I keep for the purpose, and this
in turn enveloped in two or three thick-
nesses of newspapers. I live in an old
house, comparatively, and have to take pre—
cautions against moths, but have never lost
anything since I adopted these methods.

When all these things are done it is no
very terrible job to clean the rooms, taking
one at a time and not getting in a crazy
hurry over it. Pantries and cupboards and
closets are in order, plans have been laid to
work to the best advantage, and no fuss or
fretting over it. You don’t know how it
lightens labor not to worry over it, but just
go about it quietly. Papering and painting,
if necessary, make more work, but a tran-
quil spirit will enable one to “ bear up in
under” the inevitable disappointment by
the paints rs and paper-hangers, who were
never known to come when they promised.

I would respectfully suggest to some of
the men I know that a little farm cleaning
would greatly improve the looks of their
premises. There are a good many un-
sightly things which might be put out of
sight, and not a little fixing up done. The
old plow that ornamentedgthe roadside near
the front of the house, the refuse of the
woodpile, the rails thro down to keep
vehicles off the sward, t e wood-rack and
the sled stakes, if conspicuous by their
absence, would improve the appearance of
the place considerably. Don’t expect the

women to do all the “ bracing up.”
HOLLY. HENRIETTA.

M‘—

DEATH IN THE DISHCLOTH.

A lady having been startled by typhoid
fever in her neighborhood some time ago,
gives the following good advice about dish-
cloths: If they are black and stiff and
smell like a barnyard, it is enough, throw
them in the fire, and henceforth and for-
ever wash your dishes with cloths that are
white, cloths that you can see through,
and see if you ever have that disease again.
There are sometimes other causes, but I
have smelled a whole house full of typhoid
fever in one “dishrag.” I had some
neighbors once, clever, good sort of folks;
one fall four of them were sick at one time
with typhoid fever. The doctor ordered the
vinegar barrels whitewashed, and strewed
about forty cents worth of carbolic acid in
the swill pail and departed. 1 went into
the kitchen and made gruel. I needed a
dishcloth, looked around and found several.

 

 

 

 

 

 

and such rags! I burned them all, and
called the daughter of the house to get me
a dishcloth. She looked around on the
table, “ Why,” said she, “ there was about
a dozen here this morning ” and she looked
in the wood box and on the mantlepiece
and felt in the cupboard, “ Well,” I said,
“I saw some old black, rotten rags lying
around and I burned them, for there is
death in such dishcloths as those and you
must never use such again.” I took turns
at nursing that family for weeks, and I
believe those dishcloths were the cause of all
that hard work.

Therefore I say to every housekeeper,
keep your dishcloths clean. You may only
brush and comb your hair on Sunday; you
need not wear a collar unless you go from
home, but you must wash your dishcloths.
You may only sweep the floor when the
sign gets right; the windows don’t need
washing, you can look out of the door; that
spider’s web on the front porch don’t hurt
anything, but as you love your lives, wash
out your dishcloths. Let the fox tail grass
grow in your garden (the seed is a foot
deep any way); let the holes in your hus-
band’s foot-rags go undarned; let the sage
go ungathered, let the children’s shoes go
two Sundays without blacking; let the
hens set four weeks on one wooden egg,
but do wash out your dishcloths. Eat with—
out a tablecloth; wash your faces and let
them dry; do without curtains for your
windows and cake for your tea, but for
heaven’s sake keep your dishcloths clean.

Hsnrronn. SEW.

—-——-——-—¢oo-——————

A PRETTY TOILETTE TABLE.

I can tell the girls how to manufacture a
toilette table which is an improvement on
the packing-box furniture which is gener-
ally the handy but impecunious woman’s
resource in emergencies. Have a half
circle of suitable size made of pine boards,
and supported by three legs; any carpenter
can make this at slight expense. This
frame is then hung with any suitable goods,
as cretonne, chiniz, dotted muslin over
silesia, first covering the top with a lining,
to which is attached the drapery, which
should just touch the floor and not be too
full. The spread for the top of the table
may be finished with a frill of the same, or
with torchon or knitted lace, or embroidery,
the lace being preferable. In the interests
of cleanliness it is well perhaps to make
two of these tablecovers. For the drapery
back of the table procure a small brass rod
or pole, a trifle longer than the table, and
attach to it a curtain of the goods with
which you have draped the table. let it fall
straight, and decorate the ends of the pole or
rod with bows of ribbon. The mirror can
be hung against this curtain. An adjustable
bracket to holda lamp is a convenience in
dressing by lamplight, and should be
arranged at about the middle of the length
of the mirror. A couple of pasteboard shoe
boxes, taken apart, the pieces covered with
the material used for drapery, and sewed
together again, the edges finished with a
trill of lace or muslin, are convenient
receptacles for brushes, combs, etc. The
plncushion and other small necessaries may
be made aspretty and dainty as one feels

 

disposed, only—don’t add a hair receiver;
they are all out of date.

A screen is extremely useful in a bed-
room; aside from its mission in shutting
out draughts, it can be used to seclude the
portion of the room used for toilet purposes,
and where two persons occupy one room,
secure to each much‘desired privacy; in an
invalid’s room it shuts out the view of the
paraphrenalia of sickness, and tempers the
light or the heat from the stove. It is
strange we see so few of them, but perhaps
it is because their convenience is so little
known, and because they are expensive.
Any man with a genius for handling tools
could readily make the frame, which though
of plebeian pine could be ebonized, and the
panels afford scope for a woman’s taste and
artistic ideas. B.

—-—-——m¢——-———

As many women who knit refoot the
children’s stockings when the foot is past
being darned, a good plan is to knit the foot

reversed, that is knitting the heel where the ,

instep had previously been. In this way
the knee of the stocking, which is generally
darned or worn thin by this time, will come
on the inside of the leg under the knee, and
the stocking will be almost as good as when
first knit. Quite often a stocking is let go
until it has a great hole in the heel that it
seems almost impossible to bring together
If, instead of trying to darn this, you take a
steel crochet-hook and fill the cavity by
crocheting around until the hole is filled,
then sewing or crocheting together, you
will have a nice-fitting heel, and if it is done
neatly will be far in advance of darning
both in durability and comfort.

-———-——-.-OO———-

Useful Recipes.

 

STRAWBERRIES A LA humanism—Put a
layer of hulled berries at the bottom of a
berry dish, sprinkle thickly with powdered
sugar, then another layer of berries and
sugar, and so on until the dish is full. Squeeze
over the top the juice of a fresh lemon. Bei ore
serving, stir carefully, that all the berries
may receive a little of the lemon juice. The
flavor is said to be delicious.

 

BOILED Omens—Slice a pint of peeled
onions and put them over the fire with water
enough to cover; simmer for five minutes
and pour off the water. This will take away
the rank taste that they sometimes have in
winter. Now add a cup of boiling water, a
tablespoonful of butter and a little salt; cook
slowly for twenty minutes: add acup of milk,
a teaspoonful of butter rubbed with the same
quantity of flour and a little minced parsley.
Simmer for five minutes and serve at once.
Nice with roast beef or steak.

 

ORANGE PUl)Dll\'G.—Pcel and slice half a
dozen small oranges and lay in a deep dish,
and scatter sugar plentifully on as if they
were to be eaten raw. Make a soft custard
of one pint of milk, and one tablespoonful of
rice flour, four tablespoonluls of sugar
(heaped), and the yolks of three eggs; cook it
in a double boiler, and when it has thickened
take it from the fire; flavor with lemon and
pour over the oranges; put the dish in the
oven and bake fifteen or twenty minutes;
then draw it to the front and put a meringue
over the top, made of the beaten whites of
the eggs and a heaping teaspoonful of sugar.