. mum ~' 1“ ‘ '\W\\\\\~I;x\\\\~A\\\~.\\\-‘ , . . ii mm“. 1, , [‘9 *\“,\\\\“" \" g b ‘. \\\.\\\ Ky. ..\\:\\\ “xx DETROIT, FEB. 22 1890.. THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement. For the Household. MEMORY BELLS. BY ALICE SABIA CALDWELL. ' Night is falling; softly quietly, Come its shimmering shadows down, Falling flakes from heaven are thickly Whitening all the distant town. Through the stillness, borne on faintly Through the air, I hear a sound As of bells, so softly, quaintly, Rnng in ever-changing round. Faintly through the silence breaking, Listening—the bells ring low; Memories in my heart awaiting Of the days of long ago. Days which out of Old Time's treasure— Priceless gifts he gave to me; Days of youth, and hope, and pleasures, Sparkling gems from Life’s deep sea. ' Now the b 11s sound louder, nearer; Plainer memory brings to view Scenes and faces gone. yet dearer With each season’s chang’ng hue. And a. wave of recollection, Bitter. hard as death to bear, Comes, as in my deep reflection, Clangs each bell note through the air. And the bells, with myriad changes, Clash together; yet afraid Every separate echo ranges Through the chambers of my heart. .And the night, so swift descending, Brings no more the hush of peace; . And the bells, with sound unending Echo. Will they ever cease? ——....—__ MAKING A BEGINNING. We are already making up next sum- “aner’s gingham and satteen dresses, in the faith that though we have had no winter, at least“ seed-time and harvest shall not fail.” Ginghams are no longer seen in plaids, stripes and checks only, but come in flowered designs, strewn on a satin-striped groundwork. There are also lace-like - stripes alternating with plain ones; and a great many very dainty and delicate plaids are seen, especially those in three colors. The new designs have borders, and are so wide the width forms the length of the skirt. The border is a plaid, or of gradu- ated stripes. They are made up with straight skirts, full waists pointed back and front, and with large sleeves, or mutton-leg sleeves made not too full. White embroidered muslins are used for yokes, for jackets, cuffs and collars. Ribbons will be freely used, and must match—not the ground color, but the prevailing color of the pat- tern on it, and are two and a half inches wide. Ribbons are folded and sewed in he under arm seams, and brought for- ward to define the edge of the pointed basque. Plaid ginghams will be cut bias throughout; and probably you will think something naughty when you try to laun- dry them. Belted waists are liked for these dresses; turn-down cellars and deep cuffs of embroidery are employed for trimming. The straight edges of two pieces of cmbrordery are sewed together and are set on the front of the bodice as a girdle. India silks are said to be the coming material for summer dresses. They are beautiful, so soft, fine and clinging, but they are narrow, cost a dollar a yard, and you can use yards and yards of them in a dress. And very likely your dearest friend, who always takes the privilege of saying “ just What she thinks,” will tell you your dress doesn’t “look ” its cost, and your dearest foe will exclaim "What alovely antigen you have on!” They are made up with slightly draped skirts, waists without darts, the fullness at the waist lines being laid in small forward turning pleats (as is the case with thin, light weight summer wool goods), a full sleeve; velvet ribbons are used for trimming. The new models for spring wool dresses show the same straight lines as to skirts, the same absence of draperies, and the elaborate basques which we have been fami- liar with this winter. The front of the skirt may be slightly draped, the slightest of breaks in its plainness, and the back has a fold or two caught up to relieve the plainness. Borders seem as popular as ever. They are of braiding on adarker shade of the color of the costume. Bodices are a trifle longer on the hip than before, are pointed in front and cut in blocks be- hind. A simple yet stylish wool dress, best modeled in cloth or flannel, has a skirt of straight breadths, three and one-eighth yards wide, hung over a foundation skirt with a pleating around the bottom. The edge of the straight skirt is pinked in deep vandykes and set over this pleating. Two scant ruffles similarly pinked are set above, and headed with three rows of moire ribbon. A black moire sash is worn about the waist, arranged in Empire folds in front on a foundation, with long ends behind. A pleated silk guimpe and sleeve puffs are the ornaments of the corsage; the guimpe is square and outlined with two rows of ribbon. The shoulder capes of Persian lamb and Astrachan which have been worn so much this mild winter, protect the throat and , shoulders, but leave the lower half of the arms exposed. Ladies obviate the dangers of thus chilling themselves by lining the sleeves of their street dress with Chamois. A muff and deep cuffs of fur are needed to complete this outfit. .__._..._._ ABOUT TABLE ETIQUETI‘E. Excuse me, Bess, but I can’t for the life of me see why farmers should not practice as good table manners as any one. Now I believe in the free and daily use of the napkin, but no one, Beatrix not excepted, expects us to provide napkins for threshers. There is reason in all things. And when I read that part about the threshers I asked my husband if it made any differ- ence in the manner of his eating as to what he had been doing, whether he eats any differently now he is a farmer from What he used when he was clerking (he was a salesman in a store before he married the schoolma’am), if he was conscious of doing any differently at the table when he has been threshing and is in “dusty clothes, tired and hungry ” from any other times. He instantly said No, he didn’t see why that should make any difference; the only difference threshing made with him was to increase the quantity he ate, though good- ness knows—however, let that pass. I don’t see why the use of napkin and fork should necessitate the calling in of the chickens. Perhaps I’m a little stupid, but I think I missed the point there. Weren’t you just a little unkind, Bess, about re~ fusing to eat dinner with Beatrix for fear of being watched? And S. M. was quite too bad. There is no law compelling one to eat with a fork, use a napkin, keep his elbows off the table, etc., but it is vastly nicer to do these things. Even if we do not care to practice them at home I am sure it is a thousand times nicer to know What is expected of you in society, than to find yourself out in com- pany sometimes, not knowing what to do, furtively watching your next neighbor to see What he does. Now I am not an ex- tremist in this thing. I probably do a hundred things that the ultra-fashionable would object to. For instance, I use colored table linen every day and like it too, believing that Ican do many things more to my advantage than washing so many white tablecloths every week. I think very probably there is such a thing as overstraining one’s self in this particular, but I am occasionally invited out and I am sure I am thankful for anything which will help me to know how to conduct THE HOUSEHOLD. myself. And as Beatrix says, she doesn’t set the fashions in eating; she is only stating correctly customs prevalent in good society, and in so doing assumes no responsibility. A little later in the season when she tells us how to make our spring dresses so as to be in the fashion, I venture we will not grumble, but seize upon every item Wit] avidity. But it does not follow that we will use every suggestion. We will prob. ably use what we want and let the rest go. It seems to me we can do the same with the instructions regarding our eating; and let us always try and remember she is working for our interest and the good of the paper. EUI'HEMIA. ————“——— GOVERNING THE CHILDREN. Yes, here is one mother who realizes the responsibility resting on her through her children. I have two; one a boy of six years and a little girl aged two and a half. I have come to the conclusion that if you do not want an ill-tempered. sulky child you must spare the rod. If your children cannot love and respect you enough to obey you, force is not going to do any good for the time being. Kindness can accomplish more than anything, even with animals. I once heard a gentleman say when he was a boy he was disobedient in school (an older sister was the teacher). She made bitter complaints of his conduct to the father, who sent for him to come to his room. The father reasoned with the child, telling him of the trials of the teacher, until the child was ready to break down with weeping, and thoughts like these were running through his mind—he would beg his sister’s pardon and would try and do better; Then his father got a strap and began to lay the blows on him. As blow after blow descended on his shoulders, he turned and said: “Father, if I was a man I would kill you." The father had carried it too far; it seems to me if the child was penitent there was no necessity of the whipping. Ithink children are noticed too much. Ifthey are out with you in company we can not expect them to sit down and act like grown up folks. Sometimes I think I would not care if they were somewhat un- governable, if they only grow up good men and women. Keep the confidence of your children, so if in trouble they are not afraid to come to you. If my children have any calamity befall them, or they break, lose, or do any mischief and I ask about it, they do not deny. I make very light of it. I wish some one would write a book on governing children, or more let- ters in the HOUSEHOLD; I would peruse them, and get all the information I could, while the children would be tearing things upside down. I never knew an association of ladies to prosper, they have not the business facul- ties of laying down rules and laws. I know of a Ladies’ Library Association where some pay their dues, others scarcely ever, still I do not think many were ever refused books; they were so polite they could not say no. At the end of last year, when our sub- scription for the MICHIGAN FARMER was about to expire, my husband thought we better not renew it, as we were now taking five papers. I gently but firmly told him I could not give up the HOUSEHOLD. Fnusnme RI‘TH. m KNITTED SHAWLS IN SILK OR WOOL. I send two very pretty shawl patterns, to be knitted of silk or fine Shetland floss. They will be equally pretty made of ice wool. Cast on any number of stitches divisible by 21. 1st row—-N arrow, knit 3, narrow, knit 1, over, k 1, n, k 3, n, k 1, o, k 1, O, k 2. 2nd row and all even rows all seamed. 3rd row—N, k 1, n, k 1, o, k3,o,k1,n,k1, n,k 1, O, k 3,0, k2. 5th row—Slip 1, n, pass slipped stitch over, k 1, o, k 5, O, k 1, slip 1, 11, pass slipped stitch over, k 1, o, k 5, O, k 2. 7th row—— K2, O,k1, o,k1, n, k3, 11, k1, O,k 1, O, k 1, n, k 3, 11. 9th row—K 2, O, k 3, O, k1,n,k 1, n,k1, O,k3,o,kl,n,k1,n. 11th row—K 2, o, k 5, o, k 1, slip 1, 11, passed slipped stitch over, k 1, o, k 5 0, k 1, slip 1, n, pass slipped stitch over. 12th row—~All seamed. Repeat from first row. Make the shawl as large as desired, then finish with a handsome tied fringe. This is to be tied just as the fringe on towels is tied. For the other pattern, cast on any num- ber of stitches divisible by 18. 1st row— Seam 1, slip 1, k 1, pass slipped stitch over, k 3, o, n, 0, k 3, o, slip 1, k 1, pass slipped stitch over, 0, k 3 n; repeat. 2nd, 4th, 6th and 8th rows seamed. 3rd row—Seam 1, slip 1, k 1, pass slipped stitch over, k 2, O, k 2, o, k 1, slip 1, 11, pass slipped stitch over, k 1, o, k 2, O, k 2, 11; repeat. 15th row—Seam 1, slip 1, k 1, pass slipped stitch over, k 1, o, k 3, O, k 1, slip 1, 11, pass slipped stitch over, k 1, O, k 3, O, k 1, n; repeat. 7th row—Seam 1, slip 1, k 1, pass slipped stitch over, 0, k 2, n, O, k 1, o, slip 1, n, pass slipped stitch over, 0, k 1, O, slip 1, k 1, pass slipped stitch over, k 2, o, 11; repeat. Tied fringe is a very Dretty finish for this shawl also; although any pretty knitted edge can be used if desired. In making these shawls it is easier to have the stitches divided equally upon three needles and knit with the fourth, as there is less danger of dropping stitches than if all were upon one needle; besides, it would be impossible to get stitches enough upon one needle to have the shawl as large as it should be. In passing from one needle to the next draw the thread tightly as possible, and the work will be all right. Perhaps some of our critics who object to painting, etc. may like these directions. Fonss'r LODGE. MILL MINNIE. —-—-—OOO—-——- SAYS a correspondent of Good Housekeep- ing: An old straw hat that has turned yellow may be bleached by the use of am- monia and soap. Make a strong suds of hot water and put into it as much am- monia as you can use comfortably. Rub the straw vigorously with this, using a stifif brush, rinse and put in the sun until it is perfectly dry. Remember it will hold the shape in which it dries. BIRCH BARK PICTURE FRAMES. I am indebted to a newspaper item for the directions, which I give from memory, of a photograph frame made of birch bark. If they should be of any help to G. F. O. or any other reader of the HOUSEHOLD, I, shall be very glad. A pine board was. used as the foundation; I should prefer: heavy pasteboard, as the pine splits so easily; it should be several inches larger. than the picture to be framed. I have usually made frames six and a fourth and eight inches, but they may be smaller.. The size Of the Opening depends upon the style of photograph to be framed. The» upper left hand corner may be cut Off. If pine is used, the edges should all bebeveled and sandpapered smooth. A piece of bark is then cut as large as the foundation, leaving all four corners so that one will curl over. A decoration of berries, cones 4 or ferns in India ink may be added if liked. A piece of pasteboard nearly as large as the fro Jt is pasted at the bottom and the two sides; a piece of heavy paper ' pasted down over this as is done by the best framers now, will add to the “looks of the thing.” I think a pretty frame for an engraving might be made in the same way; get your glass out and then frame it yourself. A screen for photographs might be made if the bark would not split. I am quite sure I should like the pretty birch bark stationary, but thought if G. F. 0. had much bark she might like several . ways Of using it. JEANNE ALLISON. ——-——m-—-—-—- THE NEW ARGONAUTS. I heartily thank those persons who so . readily responded to my request for quo— tations from Josh Billings. And now I will tell you what they were for. In the neighborhoood and vicinity of the town of N— there are a number of young mar- ried farmers, s ) for mental and social im- provement they formed a society called the . Argonauts. They meet the first Thursday of every month, the place to be determined by each lady member drawing from some receptacle containing slips Of paper on which is written the names of each month of the year a slip, and the name of the month upon the slips determines the time - for each to have the club. Upon the absence or failure of any member to per. form the part assigned by the committee » on programme, they are subject to a fine - of five cents (and I will say right here they have quite a number of nickels in their treasury). The Officers are the same as in any other society; they have a constitution and by-laws which are strictly adhered to. The programme opens with roll call, and . each member answers to his or her name with a quotation; and if any particular author is desired it is so stated in the pro- gramme prepared by the committee. After roll call a short literary programme is in- dulged in, including a debate on some leading topic of the day, after which a , light repast furnished by the hostess is partaken Of, then they resort to games or '- visiting until such a time as they see fit to - separate. A FRAUD.’ _ THE HOUSEHOLD. 8? GLIMPSES OF A JOURNEY IN THE WEST. [Paper read by Miss Ida Kenny at the January meeting of the Webster Farmers’ Club.] I take for my paper a subject of which my mind is full—which Still furnishes me with an unlimited amount of pleasure as I live over again and again my journey to, and my life in Southern California. It is with glimpses of it that I hope to enter- tain you for a few minutes. The scene en route were somewhat familiar to me, until reaching Kansas City. This city is built on bluffs; the depot where we arrived Friday morning, DCC. 7, 1888, was down in a valley, and on either side we looked up to see the streets of the city. ' From Kansas City we went over the Santa Fe route to the Atlantic in Pacific Junction, and from there over the Atlantic & Pacific road. Through Kansas the scenery was pleasing—by the river much of the way, past limestone bluffs, like natural walls laid up with mason work, through fine farming lands, and past thriving-looking villages. In the evening out upon the open prairie a little twinkling light in the distance marked the spot where some pioneer had located, to reclaim one little spot of that vast plain, many miles from a station and miles from a neighbor. I could not help a. feeling of pity for the isolated lives of the women of the household. The road ran for many miles by the side of the Arkansas river; it was swift and deep, not a clear stream, at times of a reddish color for the soil that it ran through. As we left Kansas and entered Colorado the country was desertlike and barren. There were many hills capped with rocks. The time was spent Watching for prairie dogs; it took sharp eyes to find the light brown little fellows before they vanished beneath the surface. Here the yucca plant flourished and tumble weeds were rolled along by the wind, single or in great balls of many collected together. It was up grade all theway from Kansas City. which is 765 feet above sea level. Topeka is 900 feet; at La Junta we were up 4,061 tTeet; from there to Trinidad it required hard work by two engines to pull the train. Trinidad is 7,622 feet, the highest elevation on the road; and there, instead of scaling the peak of the mountain the road went through a tunnel; before we came to it the lamps were lighted, so we were not in midnight darkness. Then we ran a down grade so rapidly that I felt the hair on my head rising and half expected to be dashed to pieces in the rocky canon below. Trinidad is beautifully situated on the mountains. These mountains are rightly named “ The Rockies,” such heaps of stone in wild confusion, and then again some so symmetrically laid one might fancy it was a city, or the well preserved ruins of one, with high steep walls of red, gray, brown and black rocks, and towers and domes. The afternoon sun on the distant peaks made them glittering white, bringing to mind ivory palaces, or the ancient temple of white and gold. At La Junta We were in sight of Pike’s Peak. At this station I became conscious that I was in a country where the Spaniards or Mexicans had made as many settlements as the Americans, for instead of pronouncing the town as it was spelled, La Junta, in Spanish words, theJhas the sound of H. Of some towns in California I had to learn the pronounciation; among them were San Juan, San Jacinto, San Jacquin, San Jose, Cajon, Mojave and others. Before leaving Colorado a spring by the way tempted many of the excursionists out with their cups to get a drink of the coldest, purest water. At another place specimen hunters were out with their hammers to get pieces of a petrified tree which lay by the road- side. Those who were awake that night as we climbed the hills in New Mexico saw beautiful snow covered peaks. As we passed near the Los Vegas Hot Springs, fleeting glimpses of them seen by moon- light, made them seem strange and weird as well as lovely. We saw many Indians through New Mexico and Arizona. The first one I saw coming towards the train with long strides, he was thick and short and wrapped in a blanket. I thought, is this the creature that is called the “noble red man,” if so he is misnamed, for I did not see one that answered to that description. West of Albuquerque we passed through some villages of the Pueblo Indians, dwellings built of stone upon the rock; some enter their dwellings by aladder. In Arizona at places where the train stopped for water or coal it would soon be surrounded by Indians. Most of them came wrapped in woolen blankets, some with feathers in their hair and war paint on their faces. One young brave was dressed in a white man’s clothes—a blue wamus and overalls, a black felt hat above his long black hair and the costume made picturesque by a red sash; he strutted around with his hands in his pockets in sullen dignity. We heard that he was a bridegroom; the bride was a merry squaw running about and laughing a good deal. An artist among the excur- sionists endeavored to photograph some of the groups, but as soon as the camera was pointed toward them they ran screaming and laughing to the other side of the station, he tried for a long time but the re- sult was the same; he finally changed his coat and hat but they knew him the mo- ment he appeared. At Hackberry I visited some Indian huts built by the squaws; posts set in the ground and covered with coarse grass and skins and pieces of blankets. The younger members of the tribe were not well clad, some of the poor little ones felt the biting cold upon naked shoulders and bare feet. I saw the Colorado river by moonlight, a swift, deep muddy stream, and where we crossed very broad. Not far from it were the Needles, several straight spire- likc rocks. The desert was left behind with its barren unattractivcness, itssands and sage bushes, cactus and Spanish daggers; the valley called Yucca, where the cactus grows in the shape of trees thirty or forty feet high, looking like an old apple orchard; and down the western slope of the mountains in California into the beautiful Santa. Ana ~ valley and the land of summer, Dec. 11th. A springtime freshness pervaded every- thing. The sun was warm and bright, the foothills were green; the valley in many places being prepared for spring crops, the gardens freshly worked, and those wonderw ful groves loaded with oranges. The flowers at this season were in their glory Callas in profusion; tea roses so large and‘ sweet; the Marchal Niel roses, great golden' beauties; the White La March trained over porches; one I saw twenty-three feet in- length, with a trunk of twenty-two inches, only nine years old. Herc were fuchsias- which grow into trees. In March and April there are wild flowers upon the plains and foothills; for miles and miles- there was a mass of the bright bloom—4- primroses, daisies, asters, poppies, pinks baby blue eyes, morning-glories and sun-' flowers. The pcrfume was sweet and. abundant. One poet calls the perfume the . soul of the flower. The mustard in bloom, with its sweet and spicy yellow blossom, is a pretty sight, but the farmers consider it a nuisance; it is an innocent looking weed at first, but in a few months it grows. into a tree with wide spreading branches; seven or eight or even ten feet high. The birds light in its branches and it hardly sw.ays beneath them the stalk is so strong. Later the leaves fall off, leaving the bare stalks. There is a story of a whole army being put to flight by one man rattling around among the dry mustard stalks. There is a beautiful description of this plant in Ramona, by Helen Hunt J ackson, her description of Soathern California is very true, though her story of the Indian sheep shearers seem almost too Californian. I am sure there are no Alessandros now. that can shear a sheep in one minute- The flocks of sheep on the Macs. plains that we always passed on our way to the sea were quite a sight; there were thousands in a flock, watched by shepherds and dogs; all fine looking sheep, and having excellent . pasture on the burr clover, alfalfa and wild oats. There are corrals where they are driven at night, and a hut or long box upon sticks where the shepherd sleeps. An' inclosure of any kind for stock is called a corral. Farms are called ranches and - farmers are ranchmen. Twenty-five cents. is always spoken of as “ two bits.” Among people who come from the Southern States; nothing is carried, everything is packed“, they pack a pail of water, always in a bucket—no matter what kind of a pail it. is, it is a bucket. Some cities that I visited while there were Anhiem, settled by the Germans, sur- rounded by its vineyards and its dark looking wineries and breweries; Santa Ana, a city of growing proportion, from it» astreet railway runsto Tustin, alittle town: , a bower of flowers, beautiful drives shaded with the pepper, English walnut, cyprus, eucalyptus and other trees. Another street ' car runs over one of the prettiest drives of . six miles from Santa Ana to Orange, a.) place of extensive orange, lemon and lime orchards. I visited several towns in the San Bernardino valley. This is much. higher than the Sant « THE HOUSEHOLD. nearly surrounded r«thirty'miles across. and by mountains, which rise steeply from the On the north and east in the Coast San Antonio’s peak on the north; on the cast are three high mountains, "plains. ZR ruge with 'Graybitck, Sztn Bernardino and San AJaeinto; on the south are Tcmescal and Santa Ana ridges. In this valley is River— side, one of the most beautiful towns I was ever in. It is a trmperance town. Leading into this place from the south is a double drive twelve miles long, called Magnolia. Avenue; there are magnolia trees at regu- lar intervals, with pepper trees and some palms. Oranges from this valley are con- sidered the finrsi in the State. Above and overlooking the “loo valley is the city of :San Bernardino; and six miles above it are the Arrow Ilv {it-I Hot Springs. This place is quite a resort f or invalids, the mud baths are quite caieiiarated. The city of Los Angeles, sixteen miles from the sea, is a beautiful place, abound- ing in flowers and ornamental trees, with the tropical looking palms and acacias. 'The orange orchards near Los Angelcs were the first that I saw. One poet des- icribes them and the snow capped moun- tains ten mil: 5 above them: “ In re tful. in der. soft repose swart mature 50ft =5 drraming lies, Afar the sluun-rring eean glows, Above, th si-oivy hi ights disclose 'l‘i eir eli (Sling banners in the skies; 'So‘t wt to: ir e\e'l:i tint; feet in geen an 1 gold with incense sweet Queen of tilt: b tam Hesperian lands, in rmal s iex eor lovelier far Than In it‘s vain g iztering pageants are ' 'l he g'acious chug» p oudly stands, How mi‘i t e purple shadows sleep -