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DETROIT, AUGUST 1'7. 1889.

 

 

THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement.

 

 

 

QUERY?

I asked the morning zephy r,
As it played among the leaves,
Gently stirred the fragrant flowers,
Rustled in the new-bound sheaves,
If it knew some peaceful country
Or island without name.
Where “ sugar trusts” had not been formed,
And “ middlemen" ne’er came?
The zephyr whistled round my door
And said, “ The place exists no more."

I asked the robin redbre ast,
As he perched high in a tree,
Singing all the while his cheerful strain,
80 comforting to me;
If in his flight he’d find a place
A fairy dell or grot,
Where woman did not warfare wage
With kettle, pans and pot?
The bird returned with strength nigh spent,
And panting said, “I haven’t yet.”

I asked old 801 as on he swept
Upon his daily round,
Emitting rays of broiling heat,
If he had ever found
A plea=ant, flowery. leafy spot,
A country filled with shade,
Where “ King Caloric” entered not,
And “ pies’n” things weren’t made?
He said, while dropping in the west,
“ A soft snap that, t’would be all rest."

I asked old ocean, as its waves
Beat high upon the shore;
With spray and foam, with lull and moan,
And shells from years of store,
If in its rock-ribbed, lonely caves.
That never knew a range,
Womankind could emigrate
And have, at least, a change?
The answer came in echo clear,
“The men, dear souls, would starve, I fear.”

The sun has never swerved from his course,
The air is in motion or still,

The tide comes and goes, and the pretty bird
Trills the song at his own sweet will,

Over and over and over again,
Does the mill wheel slowly turn,

The grain from the tiny seed has grown,‘
’l‘is a lesson all may learn.

Then sister mine, pray be content,
Your burdens sweetly bear,
Life’s not made up alone of shade,
Not all hard work and care;
There never yet was cloud so dark,
But what the sun peeped through,
“ ’Tis love that makes the world go round,”
Song old, but always new.

Remember as we slowly pass
Adown the h'll of life,
Linked heart to heart and hand in hand,
We have no time for strife;
Dispensing love and gentle words,
Our toil will be made sweet,
And all our self-denial here
Will lie at the Master’s feet.

Bar-rm Caren. EVANGELINE.

 

SUMMER READING.

I haven’t much use for the summer
novel. It is almost as numerous as the
sands of the sea-shore or the leaves of
Vallombrosa. It is worth, generally,
about as much as a handful of sand, or the
drifted leaves under the feet of the belated
tourist. It is as light and as unsatisfactory
as the froth on the midsummer icecream
soda, with even less sparkle and zest of
flavor. Its chief use is to kill time, but it
does it in a very dull way. I pray you
avoid it; there is no health in it.

The mental and physical lassitude most
of us experience during summer months
excuses us from a strong literary diet. We
want something amusing, interesting, not
too profound and heavy so that it provokes
the exertion of deep thought. Interesting
and amusing are the adjectives which best
express the most desirable qualities of
summer reading.

To find my own literature for the season
I turn from the new books on the book-
stores’ tables, scorning alike “the very
latest” and the novel “everybody is read-
ing” and from some stray catalogue, or
from reading some review which makes me
sure I shall like the book reviewed, I
choose an author whose reputation is
won and whose books are standard. This
summer I have introduced myself to
Blackmore, reading “ Cristowell" and
“ The Maid of Sker.” Both are charming
stories of English life, and though the
author is not great, in a literary sense, he
is good. His humor crops out in delicious-
ly quaint fashion; his characters are as
original as Dickens’, without Dickens’
vice of caricature. Old Dr. Perperaps and
Spotty, his daughter; Lady Touchwood—
so like some American mothers of lesser
quality in her blind affection for Dicky; the
honest Caleb Tucker and even Mrs. Gib-
lets, who pathetically inquires “Wherever
would you be, sir, without you drew a
line between wholesale and retail?” with
the outlaw Guy Wenlow, John Sage,
“who despised all flowers except cauli-
flowers,” the wicked George Gaston, the
vicar who was everybody’s friend, revolve
round sweet Rose Arthur, her father, who
found more pleasure in the budding of
his peaches than in the privileges of his
rank, the fine old Colonel Westcombe and
his son Jack, about whose fortunes the in-
terest of the story centres. Here is the
Cristowell definition of ambition, “no
more than a longer name for the itch.
Every village man grew wiser by due

 

seniority; and no mind, while its father
lived, succeeded to authority. Youth was
kept in its place, and taught that the car
must take the seed of thought until the
white hair shows it ripe; and women
were allowed their due weight.” Here is
the definition of a “comfortable wife2”
“ She should be amiable, gentle, fond of
little jokes and capable of making them .
when he wants them; well bred, and totally
indifferent about dress—the new fashion I
mean, and the rubbish some women study
more than their behavior; also she ought
to be diligent and thrifty, tidy, and par-
ticular to keep him to his mealtimes, an ex-
perienced judge of bread and butter, and
full of understanding about doors and win-
dows, thoroughly warm-hearted, and not
inclined to cough when she smells tobacco
smoke.”

“ ‘ To think of such awife makes aman’s
mouth water,’ answered Mr. Short.”

The story of “The Maid of Sker” is
told by the old fisherman David Llewellyn,
who said he “understood everything in
the world except women.” The sand
storm which buried Black Evan’s seven
sons was a historic occurrence. I think I
liked “Cristowell” rather the best; and
when I next want a book I shall get
“Lorna Doone,” said to be the author’s
best.

I have discovered that the way to enjoy
Howells is to read his books aloud.
Somehow one appreciates his wit and
satire, the delicate humor of his character
painting much better. I read “Dr. Breen’s
Practice” with a friend and thoroughly
enjoyed it. Mrs. Maynard and Miss Glea-
son are types of women who are very
numerous; one, so unreasonably con-
trat ictory, or self-engrossed, that one longs
to shake her into a jelly—since she has not
character enough for anything else; the
other, one of those dear souls whose
yearnings for the indefinite uplifting of
women make them amusingly “ gushing“
—one of the women who talk volubly
about things they do not comprehend.
Howells is not really amusing, it is only
his way of putting things, and bring-
ing out people’s peculiarities that provoke
smiles. To get the fullness of his satire,
the deliberate intention of reading aloud is
necessary.

Mrs. Oliphant’s “ Country Gentleman"
is a quiet story, without particular incident
or interest. It depicts the life of English
women of the middle class, those whe.
busy themselves in looking after the con
cerns of the neighborhood, who, because ol

 


 

2 THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

heir own ignorance of actual life, are
ready to judge out of hand, and invariably
measure other people's corn in their own
baskets. To the “County Gentleman’s”
sisters a difficulty in the parish pretends the
end of the world; and Minna and her Rev.
Eustace are so abominably conceited, so
priggish and narrow-minded, that one longs
to knock a little human charity and fel-
low feeling into their hearts, as well as into
that of the jealous, selfish Country Gentle-
man himself. '

But the book I have read with most in—
terest is “Donovan," by Edna Lyall. It
is a semi-religious novel—I see it recom-
mended for Sunday school libraries, and I
dare say had I known this before buying
the book I should have decided not to take
it, for like the old lady at our boarding-
house, I “don’t like my religion and my
love-stories mixed." The book is almost
the converse of “Robert Elsmcre.” Els-
mere began as an orthodox believer, and
found the beliefs of a lifetime uprooted
and destroyed by the influence and argu-
ments of an unbeliever. Donovan begins
as an atheist, made so by his unloving and
unloved childhood and the unchristian
life of the professedly religious persons
Whom he was unfor:unate enough to meet.
Then he became an agnostic, and from
this point, by the truly beautiful example
and the arguments of his good friends Dr.
Tremain and Charles Osmonde, became
able to reconcile scic: ce and revealed re-
ligion. Poor Donovan experienced sadly
enough the truth of the proverb “Give a
dog a bad name and hang him;” the
eminently respectably religious neighbor-
hood in which he lived avoided him as one
having the plague, because he was too
honest and sincere to profess what he dis-
believed, and hence he suffered misappre-
hension and wrong. An overstrained sense
of honor prevented him from righting him-
self in the eyes of those dearest to him. I
am inclined to question the nobility or
even the right we have to suffer grave in-
ju~tice because of the selfish sin of another
—as did Donovan through Stephen Caus-
ton—when the false impressions thus con-
veyed to the minds of those who love us
give such pain and misery as they always
must. BEATRIX.

..__..__....___

MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS.

 

Why is it that some people become so
“possessed” of inquisitiveness that they
are willing, nay anxious, to sacrifice the
future happiness and well being of an
innocent child to their morbid, foolish
curiosity?

A child may be adopted into some good
family, where from the love and care by
which it is surrounded, the most favored
of home-born children could not be tap-
pier. It may have found this home too
young to remember or know of any other,
and secure in its environments dream not
that the atfestionate care by which it is
surrounded is not the onto-me of natural
parental affection. One would suppose
that any thoughtful and well disposed
person would rejoice in the happiness of

 

such a fortunate waif, and seal their lips in
the presanca of any whom youth or gar-
rulity m ght tempt to reveal ought that
would startle into doubt, or explain away
the trust and love of the little one for its
foster parents. Unfortunately, there are
many who if they would scorn to say any-
thing to a child so situated, will not hesi-
tate to speak freely of the matter before
their own and neighbors’ children, know-
ing, as they must, how sure the little ones
will be to retail the story. The natural
openness and candor of a child, as well as
the burning desire to show their import-
ance by exhibiting their knowledge of
personal secrets, will impel them to talk of
such matters.

The person who undertakes the great
responsibility of caring for, training and
educating the child of others. needs, and
should receive, all the aid that kindly senti-
ment and good common sense can guar-
antee.

It would seem that self-respect and
delicacy would prohibit interference, and a
feeling of gratitude that a forlorn waif
was surrounded by comfort, and was being
trained for usefulness, rather than left to
grow an idler, or burden, or worse, in
Life’s field, would intensify such conclu-
sions. It seems, instead, as if some very
proper peoplcina general way, have an
intolerab‘e itehin g to interfere in such cases.
I have heard the remark, “The child
ought to know, andeiIl tell it if the
people do not.” Why ought the child to
know? If it ought, why is it the business
of outsiders to medd e? The child is hap-
pier while in ignorance. Its natural trust,
confidence and love go to its parents, and
it isa shock to have its trust rudely broken,
and many times the result is disastrous to
the child, and most painful to the parent.
People who are so oflicious rarely stop
When so much mischief is dene. The child is
questioned in all the minutes of its privi-
leges, restraints, and surroundings; remarks
are made, doubts suggested, comparisons
instituted, until the little mind is alarmed,
put on the defensive against imaginary
injuries; and a spirit of rebellion is
aroused which puts parent and child in an
antagonism, painful to both, but most
injurious to the child. To any one who
feels this itching, I Would Sty, “ Conquer
it.” Better the child suffer some injustice
from supposed parents than to be reused
to rebellion by a knowledge that will work
him greater suffering.

If the children of natural parents were as
keenly watched, with jaundiced eyes, there
mighr be found cases of as glaring injus-
tice, and often less of love and self-sacrifice
in the parents. A little girl, whose doting
affection claims me as her very own
“ auntie,” sp kc of the relation in presence
of two ladies. One smilingly listened and
commended, while seeing the mistake;
the other put the child through a catechism
as to how it could be, tried to convince her
it was not so, excited and angered her, but
wi hout shaking her loving faith. Why
not let such innocent delusions a‘one? With
riper years they will be gradually dis-
pelled, without a rude shock to tender

 

hearts or robbing them of a sweet faith

and trust, so helpful and soothing to their

tender years. A. L. L.
INGLESIDE.

W...-o~on_—__

THE MISADVENTURES OF THE
B— FAMILY.

(Concluded)

Ye terday morning the B-— mansion
was taken by storm, its citadel carried by
a sault. Cousin James, his wife, his three
children, his wife’s sister, two trunks and a
carpet bag were deposited on the piazza
twenty minutrs before dinner. “It never
rains but it pours.” “Thought we’d run
out and make you a l'ttle visit; can’t s‘ay
but a week. Nicest time in the year in
the country, isn’t it?” said cousin James,
afiably, as he gave Bruno acigar from
his coat pocket and took one himself from
a Russia leather case. Bruno said after-
ward that it was the “rankest weed" he
ever tried, about “two fer five," he
guessed. I noticed he di Jn‘t take but two
or three whiffs before he tossed it over into
the lilac bush. Cousin James noticed it,
too, for he said, “ Don’t you smoke,
Bruno?” I was glad to hear Bruno reply
unconcernedly, “Oh yes, I enjoy a good
cigar,” with a slight emphasis on the
“ good.”

Going to “stay a week!” Three hired
men, and threshers coming Monday! My
heart went clear down into my boots when
I thought of it. You will not wonder that
I end my chronicle of our misadventures
here, and kindly draw a veil over the trib-
ulations of the week. These children will
be the death of me. Algernon Sidney, the
youngest, has already been rescued from
the top of the windmill derrick; Maud
Ethelinda has chased two of my little
turkeys to death and broken up one of my
setting hens; while Arthur Augustus had a
set-to with Dick, the old ram, which I
guess will induce him to accord to that
patriarch the veneration due to his age.
I have sent to town for Jamaica ginger and
paragoric, for colic or cholera morbus will
surely kill some one of the trio, the way
they stuff on green apples and anything
else they can chew. In the meantime I
pray for patience and remind myself a
week cannot last forever.

For the benefit of those who have criti—
cised me so severely as “unwifely,” etc.,
in my statements, and have pitied “ poor
Bruno,” I would request them not to be so
previous in their conclusions, and say I
have nowhere given them occasion to
marry me to Bruno, who is as yet one of
those unappropriated individuals known as
old bachelors.

For myself, permit me to subscribe my-
self simply BnUNo’s SISTER.

“M

A MAINE woman exterminated ants
which were very numerous and annoying
in her house by stirring a tablespoonful of
Paris green into some molasses, putting it
into two saucers and setting them in the
runways of the ants. No dead ants were
seen around, and the ant colonies were
evidently completely exterminated, none
ever being seen around the house again.

 

”an"

 

 


-adé‘

 

THE HOUSEHOLD. 3

 

COMMON SCHOOLS.

 

[Paper read at the Oxford Institute by Mrs.
Lucy Swift of Flint.]

Verily, “History repeats itself.” 456 B.
=0. Cincinnatus was called from the plow to

dictate to the Roman Senate, and a few

days ago an obscure, inoffensive woman,
quietly plying her domestic arts, was com-
manded to appear before this assembly and
tell it what she knew about common
schools. The similarity is strictly con-
fined to the incident, not the individuals.
Cincinnatus is said to have donned his
robes, and meekly followed his messenger.
But alas for the woman! She sought out
.an old treatise upon the subject, fully ex-
pecting to find there all the matter she
would require. The sin of plagiarism
seemed slight to her as she studiously
plodded over page after page of those sub-
lime theories, searching in vain for a
practical idea, or a sound, logical point.
IShe next repaired to an educational assem-
bly, and again confronted the old stumbl-
ing block, theory. Her last resort was to
interview a professional teacher, and he
told her that “Really he could not say,
until he had given the matter some
thought.” And then it was that this
woman put on her spectacles, took her pen
in hand, and what she knew of common
schools I am going to tell you.

The topic, fully defined, covers more
territory than I propose to traverse. I am
not going to begin with the State Board of
Education, and come growlingly back,
through all the red tape; nor am I going to
molest the city and village schools. It is to
the schools in the country I desire to call
your attention. I would like to ask of you
what interest you have at heart (spiritual
matters aside) that you hold nearer or
dearer than the education of your chil-
dren, and I hear you answer, “None!”
Again, what interest do you so grievously
neglect? “None!” Is there aman present
who if he owned a valuable colt would put
it into the hands of a stranger for training,
and never concern himself as to the
methods employed in the work? Is there
.a woman here who would loan a stranger
her diamond brooch, and to all appearance
be unmindful ’of it? And yet each day you
send out the priceless little lives entrusted
to your keeping—send them into these
training schools, knowing nothing of the
trainer. What right have you for this
sublime faith in teachers?

The ranks and files are full. But those
fitted by natural endowments and proper
culture for the position are largely in the
minority. A man thoroughly conversant
with the matter once told me that “ forty-
flve per cent of the teachers in Michigan
ought to be thrown out.” Yet if they can
come up to the required standing in their
text books, they are all right; when alas
that is but one of the many requirements
conducive to a thorough teacher. “ But,”
says one, “what can we do?” Let me tell
you what I would have done, if I could.

Next September I would have every
father and mother attend school meeting.
I would have the school board made up
of persons who would give the best atten-

 

tion to the work, let them be male or
female; andI would strongly advise that
every school board have at least one lady
oflicer, and especially in districts where
lady teachers are mostly employed. I went
to our Director once with complaint that
our reading classes were on the retrograde,
and that the teacher’s attention should be
called to it. He promised to see her. Time
went on and no improvement. I went to
him again and he said: “I have had my
face fixed to speak to her a number of
times—but someway I couldn‘t do it.”
Now why he could not, involves a mag-
netic problem that I am not called upon to
solve in this paper; but I firmly believe
that a lady director could have approached
her without trouble. I am going to ad-
vance no theories thatI have not seen in
practical working.

In Genesee County we have one lady direc-
tor, and as far as I can learn, she has been
a success. She has cared f. r the sanitary
condition of the premises, as it has never
been cared for before. The school property
has been guarded; the teacher’s attention
called to proper ventilation; and then she
goes to the school often, cheering and en-
couraging both teacher and scholars. But
no one person can do it all, and the cloud
that hangs over the woman’s work is this,
that she can get no interest aroused in the
other patrons of the school. She said to a
little boy a few days ago, “ I think your
mother must be very proud you are doing
such nice work this winter.” A troubled
look was upon the child’s face as he answer-
ed, “I guess mamma doesn't know it.”
And that is true all over this broad land,
“ Mamma doesn’t know it.” Oh ye foolish
mothers, how are you ever to answer for
this great sin of omission? Don’t you
know that the scholar of today is the
citizen of tomorrow? That just as these
pliant little minds are moulded today, just
so you will find them tomorrow? And
the grave necessity of knowing that this
work is well done must be clear to you all.

We are menaced by another evil, that I
believe could be averted by a thorough
building up of our district schools. Our
children are drifting away from us! And
why? Oh, you see our schools in the
country do not suffice, and we must needs
send the children to a city for a few terms.
And with what results? Nine out of ten
come back discontented. They have been
there just long enough to mistake glitter
for gold, the false for the true. They
come back to tell us that they believe they
were intended for something better than
farming. And so they go away from us,
leaving the broad acres and the productive
industries, to engage in some of the already
crowded avenues of livelihood; many of
them to ignominionsly fail.

Just now the educational departments
are agitating themselves over the township
district system, which means to do away
with the district boards, and place the
work in the hands of three, or five, elected
township officers. Then they will move
our district boundaries, build or repair our
school-houses, levy the taxes, equip the
school rooms, visit the schools, hire the

 

teachers, and in fact run our business en-
tirely. They tell us that the welfare of
our children demands this. The friends
of the system say that “ the petty school
board impedes the progress of education.”
They bring statistics to prove that in many
districts, term after term, for years, neither
officers or patrons enter the doors of the
school room. They claim that only about
ten out of fifty go to school meeting, the
chief object of that ten being to curtail ex—
penses, and who also fail to put into office
the most capable ones for the work. They
even report one director who can neither
read or write, and a host of others not far
ahead. Have we come to this state of af-
fairs because farmers. as a class, are in
ferior? No! It is no uncommon sight to
see a man of splendid intellect guiding the
plow, or gathering his grain. It is noth-
ing unusual to hear the voice of the far-
mer in the legislative halls, and in truth
there is no eminence in this country that
the farmer has not reached. Then how
are we to excuse him for this gross neglect
of a duty that should stand paramount to
all others? And the great wish of my
heart tonight is, that all farmers who
have allowed their brains to get gummed
over with fine wool, or stuck full of regis-
tered bristles, would go home and look into
this matter. Miles Standish tells us that
“ What we would have well done, we must
do ourselves,” and if you would be sure
that your children reach the goal you de-
sire, then you must look to the work your-
selves. There are earnest, capable women
here tonight, whose homes are in the rural
districts, and let me say to them, “ There is
much ye can do, why stand ye idle wait-
ing?”

There should be literary societies in every
school district. It is a very easy matter to
lead the young in this direction. In the
district where I live, there has been such an
organization for the past two years. The
woman who founded it is in no wise a
gifted woman, but she went earnestly into
the work and builded better than she
knew. I wish I had time to tell you of its
good results and of its grand developments.
I read an article a short time ago that con-
doled with the farmer and his family, be-
cause of their want of culture, and I
thought if in every school district such a
work as this could be carried on, there
would be no need for such condolence.

If the ladies who contribute so ably to
the papers, would lay by the pen and
work “in the shadows where they are,”
they would accomplish that which would
go down even to the tenth generation.
“ One person to throw water is worth forty
to cry fire.” If there are any present who
will attempt this work, if they will ad-
dress Box 852, Flint city, our secretary
will gladly send out our order of business,
and a few programmes that might aid one
in their organization.

Once more in conclusion let me urge you

to throw off this apathy that has so ob-
scured your mental and moral vision. and
go to work for the best interests of the
young 1n your midst; and if St. Peter
doesn‘t open the door for you with greater
alacrity than he otherwise would, then he is
not the St. Peter I take him to be.

 


 

4:

THE HOUSEHOLD.

 
 

 

ALL DAYS BRIGHT DAYS.

Good afternoon! here I am again.
What’s this I have with me? Why my
dear little three months’ old baby! Isn’t he
a darling? You didn’t know about him,
did you?

I have something on my mind again, and
when my mind is burdened with some-
thing, I never feel easy until I have re-
lieved myself and had my say. It all
started from these Weeks we’ve been en-
joying. They set me to thinking. Now
Evangeline's sounded unusually rose-
colored, but do you know why? Don’t you
suppose Evangeline has her own particular,
private little troubles and annoyances?
What housekeeper has not? But like a
wise woman, she “remembered only her
joys.”

I am afraid Simcn’s Wife had a little bit
of wicked intent in writing her week.
(Pretty cute of her though, wasn’t it?)
And the difference in the two was the dif-
ference in the way of telling. Well, it led
to such a monotonous succession of
“ weeks” that I for one was glad when a
halt Was called. But really, I wondered ir‘
our little paper was to become the medium
through which we communicate all our lit-
tle grievances to each other, instead of
what I believe our Editor means it should
be—an interchange of nice little helpful
ways of doing things, and friendly chit-
chat. No life is one perpetual sunny day.
The clouds are often there, but why talk
of them? The more we dwell on them the
bigger and blacker they grow. Don’t let
us fall into the habit of relating all our lit-
tle misadventures. Don’t let us take our
little paper as a receptacle for all our do-
mestic rubs.

Let us help each other.

There, I’m through now. I’ll take my
baby and go. No mother who reads this
will fail to understand the joy that has
come into my life with this little blue-eyed
mite of humanity. He’s such a comfort.
The joy of having him makes up for all
the “rainy days.” EUPHEMIA.

ALBION.

___¢...__

OUR CHILDREN’S FRIENDSHIPS.

Most of us who have come to years of
maturity can look back to some youthful
friendship which has influenced all our
after life. Unconsciously to us, then, the
effect of a stronger personality than our
own made its impress upon our character
for time and eternity. Tastes were con-
trolled and inclinations fixed through the
power of companionship—a power we can
never afford to overlook or underestimate.
How very essential it is then, that those of
us who have the guidance of children
during the most difficult age. which gen-
erally embraces the years between twelve
and sixteen, should look well to the in-
timacies then formed? These friendships
may not be lasting, nevertheless they leave
their mark. They are apt to be tropical in
warmth while they continue; confidences
are exchanged with greater freedom than
the mother—who should be by right her

through which lies her best means of lead-
ing her young daughter in those paths of
innocence and purity she would have her
tread. It is astonishing—discouragingly
so sometimes—to see what havoc a silly,
frivolous, empty-headed girl can make in
acoterie of simple-minded, quiet girls, who
often seem almost fascinated by her grown-
up airs and graces, and her chatter about
dress and beaux. True, there is nearly al-
ways a reaction—the recoil of a pure, cor-
rectly trained mind from one educated in a
differen school; and the evanescent friend-
ship ends in a sad disappointment to the
more thoughtful girl,who if no greater harm
is done her, has learned her first lesson in
distrust, and the bitter lesson of misplaced
confidence. She is disappointed and chilled,
and apt to resolve to rely upon her own
judgment hereafter, especially if she fi-lds
certain unpleasant resultants from follow-
ing the advice of her “dearest friend.”
All too rarely does she turn to her real
“ best friend”——her mother; too often a
certain false pride and shyness intervenes
and she finds it difficult to give her con-
fidence, which is but another name for a
free exchange of thought, to any person.
And if not disappointed in her friend, she
is drawn away, further and further from
her old sweet, natural self, until she is as
frivolous as her false friend.

Treat these friendships which you can-
not approve with great care, mothers, if
you would have them brief and the least
harmful. Open opposition and condemna-
tion will often defeat your purpose. Put
obstacles in the way of visits and tete-a-
tetes, but see that they are pleasant preven-
tives—tasks will not answer; treats and
pleasures are admirable. Make your
daughter more than ever your companion,
and with subtle art contrast her would-be

intimate’s faults of character with truer
standards. Be patient and persevering, so
shall you win yet more of daughterly love
and confidence. BEATRIX.
My“.

HELPFUL HINTS.

 

In my article in the HOUSEHOLD of July
20th some one made a mistake which I
would rectify, as some of my friends might
think I told a story. I have but six in the
family and four beds to wash for.

Mrs. Bruno, did you ever think how you
would feel if Mr. B—— would air all your
failings to the public gaze? “ Charity
covereth a multitude of sins,” also of fail-
ings. We are none of us perfect and don’t
like to be told of our remissness; I know I
don’t. William never makes me account
for the money I spend; if I wish money
and my purse is “full of emptiness,” I
take from his (if there’s any there) and he
considers it all right. Why should I not?
I help earn it. I often work more hours a
day than he does. My work is different
but it helps. I make the butter that buys
the groceries, and try to save and care for
things in all ways. i

There are so many ways of saving in time
and strength as well as money. When you
go to the cellar, take a market basket if
you have many things to carry, then one
trip will do for all.

 

daughter’s chosen confidant—receives, and

during new potato time, use your iron-
dish cloth to scrap potatoes. It cleans-
them quick and prevents all stains.
Laurel Vane, doesn't Mr. Vane ever com—
plain of dyspepsia through eating so much
cake and pie for tea? I think pie is hurt-
ful eaten at night. I will some time tell
some of my other ways of saving—-I have-
many of them. DEBORAH.
WiLnEaerLn.

_____.....______
IF you have straw matting on any of
your rooms, do not use a broom on it. the--
strands will be worn out in a short time if
you do. Use a bristle brush with a long'
handle, and brush the matting the length-
wise way of the strands, that is, from
selvedge to selvedge; in this way the dust.
is removed more perfectly. To wash the-
matting, put a tablespoonful of ammonia.
into a pail of soapsuds, wash the matting
with a cloth and dry it with another, using,-
but little water. If the matting is once
wet through it will be discolored and never
look so well again. If it has turned
yellow, wash with salt and water. Mat-
ting does not need washing often.

——-QOO-——-
U sefui Recipes.

 

CHOCOLATE CAKE—Half cup of butter; one
cup sugar; half cup milk; one and two-thirds»
cups flour: whites of two eggs and yolks of
three: one and a half teaspoonfuls baking!
powder or one of cream-tartar. and one-half
of soda. One and a half squares of Baker's
chocolate, and put it into a saucepan over the
teakettle with three tablespoonfuls of sugar-
and two of water. Stir until smooth and
glossy, then add to the above, mixing well.
Flavor with vanilla. Bake carefully, as this
0 tke is more apt to burn than that made with-
out the chocolate. Frost nicely.

CHOCOLATE CAKE WITH CREAM FROSTING.—
Cream one cup butter, add two cups sugar,
then the flavoring of vanilla; then stir in three
and a half cups flour with three teaspoonfuls.
baking powder sifted in it: then the beaten
yolks of five eggs and the beaten whites of
three. This will make two leaves. For the-
frosting, boil fast a cup of fine granulated
sugar and half cup of water until it threads
in dropping from the spoon. Test it often in
order not to cook it long enough to granulate
or candy. When done cool the mixture a lit-
tle and then beat until it is creamy and white..
Spread over the cake, and when it is cold
cover with a coating of chocolate mixture
made by breaking and melting one square of
Baker's chocolate with two tablespoonfuls of
sugar and one of water.

 

CORN SOUP WITH CHICKEN.—Cut the chick-
en and put it on to cook with three pints of
cold water. Skim, if necessary, when it be-
gins to boil, add a teaspoonful of salt and
cook slowly until tender. Then drain the
chicken and cut it from the bones, cutting the .
meat in small pieces. Cut the corn from a.
dozen very fresh and tender ears and put it
into the broth, which should be boiling.
There should be a quart of broth. Add the
cut chicken and boil twenty minutes. Then
add a quart of milk in a little of which a heap-
ing teaspoonful of flour has been mixed to a
smoorh paste, and a tablespoonful of butter.
Let it boil up, add more salt it needed and a
cup of cream, or a big lump of butter, let boil

 

If you wish to keep your hands white

 

up and serve.