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DETROIT, NOV. 1, 1590.

 

 

THE HOUSEH OLD-"Supplement.

 

 

BE KIND TO EACH OTER.

 

When those we love are dead-—
Though they have faithful been, and kind and
true—
They cannot hear our words of tardy praise,
Nor see the flowers remurseful passion lays
O‘er their still hearts ; no whisper trembles
through
The silence of the dead.

When those we love are dead,
We spare no pains to honor their estate;
Wé deck them out in garments soft and fine,
And sheer and snowy lace, and satin-line
Their beds; our love we show too late,
When those we love are dead.

When those we love are dead,
Their f.—.ults are all forgot and put aside,
Their little frailties we forgive. and say,
If they could walk beside us one more day,
And be to us as if they had not died,

Such tears we might not shed.

If they again were here,
How we would tell them of their love so true,
And help them bear their burdens day by day,
And often fair and fragrant flowers would lay
In weary fingers; ah, so much we‘d do

To make their path less drearerl

If friends are with us yet,

Let us more patient be, and kind and sweet;

With words of cheer, and gifts and thoughtful
ways,

Make glad and beautiful their passing days.

So that when marble stands at head and feet,

Grief be not all regret.

~t'hrésttan Intelllqencer.
“m...”—
DRESS REFORM.

An “Interested Reader of the HOUSE-
HOLD ” wants to know “ what Beatrix
thinks of the Annie Jenness-Miller dress
reform movement.” I think it is a very
cute scheme to sell Mrs. Jenness-Miiler’s
patterns and increase the sale of the maga-
zine she publishes. I heard Mrs. J enness-
Miller (and I detest, on general principles,
a woman who parts her nante in that way,
as if her husband’s was not good enough
for her) lecture when she was here and ex-
hibited herself in her “ reform ” garments,
but was not in the least converted to her
theories. She has a beautiful figure,
plump without being fat, symmetrical and
perfectly proportioned. She looked well
in everything she wore, as was to be ex—
pected. But the thin woman, the fat
woman, the illy proportioned one, she who
stands with one hip higher than the other,
or who is concave where she should be con-
vex, would look like a guy in what would
be becoming to the elt quent advocate of
dress reform.

Moreover, although Mrs. Miller decries
corsets and declares she never wears them,

those in a position to know say all those

 

 

exquisitely fitting dresses are fitted over a
corset, which Madame discards when she
mounts the platform to exhibit herself to
her admiring countrywomc-n as the apostle
of dress reform on the Jenness Miller plan.
The princess dress which is her central
idea, any dressmaker will tell you can only
be acceptably worn by a perfect figure.
And the much-puffed ”combination un-
derwear” is only amodified form of the
“chemiloon” which was introduced some
twelve or fifteen years ago, and was the
most awkward and inconvenient garment
woman ever tried to put herself into—or
get out of. The ” divided skirt ” is simply
-as one plainspoken women put it, “a
petticoat for each leg,” sewed to aclose
fitting yoke. Several ladies who have tried
this garment say it is more awkward and
unmanageable than skirts, being especially
exasperating in going down stairs or on the
street in wet weather. Externally, the
models given in The Je'nness 1112156? Maga-
zine do not differ much from other styles,
most of them being adaptations of the
princess, with sufficient drapings on the
corsage and sleeves, and other accessories,
to render them ultra fashionable.

But what’s the matter with dresses, any-
how? I don’t know of a nation on the
face of the earth whose women are dressed
as sensibly, conveniently, hygienically and
beautifully as those of the United States.
Any individual can by judicious selection
of styles, dress sensibly and healthfully in
the prevailing modes, which offer a wide
choice to cover the needs of all classes and
occupations. A woman can wear a skirt
of walking length which does not impede
her movements, ablouse waist which gives
perfect freedom of movement to arms and
shoulders, and a trim jacket which has
every advantage of a man’s coat without
its mannishness—she can wear such a dress
wherever it is suitable. On occasion she
wears elegant robes for party and recep-
tion use, her corset being almost as pliable
as her gloves, her elastic “ Jersey” un-
derwear affording perfect freedom of
motion, her skir ts no heavier than neces-
sary fOA warmth. Her light jacket or
shoulder cape is worn over a fibre or
Chamois vest with sleeves, and she is both
comfortably and stylishly dressed. No
woman can look pretty when she is half-
frozen; she knows it, and dresses warmly,
but instead of certain unwieldly, cumber-
some garments, now discarded, she wears
clothes which fit her, and gets more pro
tection from them than from the old styles.

The trouble is, the ideal of all the dress

 

reformers is the masculine coat and
trousers. These garments have been held
up before us so long as the acme of con-
venience and sense that we think any re-
form must be modelled on those lines, and
the nearer we approach them the more
hygienic. Hence we have “homomania”
and the mannish girl, from whom Heaven
defend us!

More nonsense is written about women’s
dress than upon an y other topic—barring
two or three—by those who write with
more zeal than discretion. For instance,
for the past twelve years street dresses
have been long enough to clear the ground;
no woman with any knowledge of fashion
whatever has worn a trained dress on the
street. Yet even now Ievery little while
come across some masculine screed against
the folly and uncleanl‘uess of dragginglong
dresses through the filth of the streets,
regardless of the fact it has not been done
for more than adecade. What can you
do with people who have taken 8. Rip Van
Winkle nap and cannot see anything when
they wake up? The fact is those who
can make money out of alleged reforms,
and newspaper writers who must have
something to write about, make up the
only class who declaim against woman’s
attire at the present time. All others
recognize it has never before been so ap-
propriate and becomingly sensible.

BE ATRIX

 

“HANDSOME IS THAT HANDSOME
DOES.”

 

Only a few weeks since I wrote a letter
with this same headline and I wonder now
if it does not apply equally well to a bit of
my recent experience-one of the many
lessons from a day’s outing. I took the
morning train, and in the coach two ladies
especially attracted my attention. The
elder was a maiden lady about 75 years of
age, wearing a short blue calico dress with
a large kitchen apron, a skimpy shawl,
ungloved hands and a hood drawn tightly
around her wrinkled, toothless face. Her
“ baggage ” was carried in a large dishpan
and altogether she had not a prepossessing
appearance, yet I noticed that a fashion-
ably dressed lady of about forty went
the length of the car to speak to her, re-
maining for some time in animated con-
versation, and in reply to the exclamation
of wonderment from another she said:
“ I have known her all my life, poor old
thing.” She is well educated, speaking
diflerent languages and has means enough
to dress well if she wished to do so, but

 


2 THE .HOUSEEOLD.

 

 

almost her only car ride in a lifetime was
taken in this guise. However, it was not
of . her peculiarities that I meant to write
only as it was a part of the lesson. Ar-
riving in Detroit business took me to the
rooms of two young ladies whom the
highest circles in the city delight to honor.
Educated abroad in their chosen profession,
flattered and feted in the cities of the old
world, but returning as modest and un-
assuming, as cordial and true-hearted as
when they were our own country school
girls, and I chanced to remember hearing
of the man from their little country town
who drove to Detroit asahuckster, and
when seen on the street by these same
ladies they went out on the crossing to
speak with him and make inquiry about
the dear home friends, and he was then
riding with a load of calves. Afterward
I attended the matinee, and in the same
connection I noticed how Little Lord
Fauntleroy stuck to his friends—the corner
grocer and the bootblack—even when the
honors of earldom were hanging over him.
And then in such marked contrast to all
this I dined with two young ladies at their
boarding place. Both were comparative
strangers in the city, rooming together. yet
my one acquaintance privately informed
me that she would not on any account
walk on the avenue with her roommate.
Thinking of the sunny temperament,
pretty face and stylish dress I asked: “ Is
she not respectable?” The answer was:
“Oh, yes! I suppose so, but then you
see she works for aliving and I don’t.” It
mattered not that her work was of the
daintiest kinds, giving instruction in fancy
work, commencing rare designs for others
to finish, the firm that gave her employ-
ment paying her twelve dollars per week;
all the same she was working for her daily
bread, while the non-worker was simply
taking music lessons. Her model and the
one whom she was anxious to imitate was
her teacher—one of the ladies with the
foreign education—but then, I thought,
she, too, works for a living! where can
my pert young miss draw the line? For
though it be a prima donna or the Presi-
dent of these United States, if they re-
eei‘ve a salary they are servants of the
people as truly as those who earn but
twelve dollars per week or one-fourth that
sum.
But another thought crowds in, and that
E that when one has an assured position
they can do things that a beginner in the
social scale would not dare to do. As a
lady who had risen from comparative
poverty to wealth said: “ I can wear a
print dress now and enjoy it, for people
know I can have all the silks that I want,
but when I had none I was shy of meeting
my friends ina cheap dress.” There is
much in the thought. The young music
pupil was anxious to gain a standing in
social circles and to be seen walking with
ashop girl would not be considered the
proper thing. She has influential relatives
in the city, and she felt that she must hold
herself according to their standard. I
have thought much of these cases. What
lay the Housmonmms? EL. San.
30130.

M ~ »

FANTASMA.

During a recent visit to Beatrix, she took
me to see Hanlon’s grand fairy spectacular
play at the Lyceum. Of course she only
went to take me. Beatrix is always willing
to chaperone more frivolous persons to an
amusement of that kind. The play itself
was not much. Zamaliel, the villain and
king of the realms of Hades, wished to
have Lena, the heroine, for his queen. She
was in love with Arthur, who was devoted
to her but really not half so nice as Zamaliel;
with the aid of Fantasma, the fairy queen,
they at last overcame all the the schemes of
Z :maliel and were happily united.

As the curtain rose on the first scene we
saw a group of witches as wierd as those
who greeted Macbeth as he was returning
across the heath. These, however, gave
no message but received one from Hag-
warth, one of Zamaliel’s imps, and then

'went through a grotesque dance, waving

above their heads arms as long as their
bodies. They disappeared and we saw
Lena carried off by Zamaliel, while Arthur
stood helplessly wringing his hands in
deep despair. Then Pico came upon the
scene and the fun began. The poor fellow
was faithful to the cause of Lens. and
Arthur, although it was difficult to see
just where he furthered it; and his ludi-
crous scrapes kept the audience well
amused. Magic lamps first bewildered
him and he darted from one place to an.
other to seize the light which always just
escaped him. He started in the pursuit of
Lena but was hindered by a gate which
behaved very queerly, always opening the
wrong way and giving poor Pico many un-
deserved bumps. Arthur continued his
search for Lena and was encouraged by
fleeting visions of her, but finally saw her
ascend to a tower with Hagwarth. Pico
had an encounter with skeletons which
appeared before his astonished eyes which-
ever way he turned, and completed his
amazement by having a boxing match. I
think it would be rather unpleasant to
meet with so many animated skeletons all
at once. Pico next came to a small cottage
where he found a suit of clothes which he
concluded to try on”. I was almost as
much surprised as Pico appeared to be
when, after carefully arraying himself in
the new suit, he was still clad in the same
old clothes. the transformation was so
quick. To make up for the loss of the
new clothes he was treated to a deluge of
hats of all kinds, shapes and sizes. Pico’s
adventure with the five bears was really
splendid. The black bear skins and huge
heads and paws made them look quite
sufliciently real, and as they chased poor
Pico around the stage, following him ashe
disappeared through the most unexpected
openings, it became very exciting. Pico
climbed up to the roof of the cottage,
whereupon the bears began taking down
the house, piece by piece, until only the
chimney was left. Then Pico produced a
violin and fiddled away for dear life while
the bears danced to the music.

The name of the next scene on
the programme did not prepare me

 

for the scenery that followed. Truly,

 

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it was “ Twenty Thousand Leagues
Under the Sea,” for there were all
the wonders of the deep. And down
through this seeming water came Zarzar,
an imp, with Lena in his arms. Zamaliel
concealed her in the rock of eternity; but
through Fantasma’s aid Arthur succeeded
in rescuing her, while Zamaliel was im-
prisoned in the jaws of a gigantic octopus.

The next act showed Zamaliel again in
power, and Lena placed in charge of a
peculiar black monster called Erebus.
Although ghosts are not usually noted for
their beauty, the phantom minuet which
followed was one of the prettiest scenes of
the play. The faces of the dancers were
pale but not ghastly and their robes of
white and silver in exceedingly good taste
for disembodied spirits. Pico was then
treated to a novel banquet, Where every~
thing flew off his fork or out of his hands
and left him wondering what had become
of the dainty morsel he had expected to
convey to his mouth. But this was noth-
ing to what followed. His head was
chopped off and held up before the
audience. Strange to relate, in the next
scene Pico’s head seemed to have grown
again as good as ever, nor was there even
a soar to mark the catastrophe. Pico’s
adventures in the haunted dormitory were
about the funniest thing of all. He pulled
off his boots and they calmly walked ofi
across the room and up the wall and re-
mained stationary near the ceiling. Pico,
after much bewilderment, found another
pair and put them on, but, as he glanced
triumphantly at the runaway boots, those
that he had on disappeared, and I, for one,
could not tell where they went. He
pulled on anighteap but it flew off, circled
around above his head, and finally
vanished in the mouth of a portrait on the
wall. He sat down before a grate to en-
joy his newspaper, but the fire darted out
underhis chair, making the seat unpleasant-
ly warm to judge by the look of dismay on
his countenance. It was wonderful as well
asfunny to watch the different contriv-

ances, all coming in perfect order and fol- .

lowing one another so quickly that one
could not help admiring the mechanical
genius which must have ordered all this.
In the next scene Arthur was shown a
succession of tableaux of beautiful women,
seemingly floatin g in the air, while the stage
was illumined with colored lights. But
he could not be tempted to forget Lena,
and by his loyalty won her deliverance.
The act ended with a beautiful transfor-
mation, the scene in Hades became a
grotto of the magic fountain where were
seen lovely waternymphs. It is impossible
to give in words the brilliant effect of the
lights and scenery.

The last act began with a chase of
demons after Arthur, who was thus‘
brought captive to Zamaliel. Pico had a
walking match with Spikes, whose name
describes him perfectly, and was beaten,
but was happily delivered by one of
Fantasma’s fairies after he was so tired
that he was obliged to pick up his feet
with hishands in order to walk at all.
Lena, wno had been left in charge of an
old woman, was tempted forth from her

 

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THE HOUSEHOLD. 3

 

 

safe retreat by visions of Arthur, only to
find herself attain in the power of Zamaliel.
Both the lovers were then his prisoners,
and he was about to throw Arthur into the
fiery crater of a volcano when Fantasma
appeared in all her power, overthrew
Zamaliel, united Lens and Arthur, and the
curtain went down for the last time upon
a grand transformation full of wonderful
scenic effects, tinsel and colored lights, to
the realms of Fantasma.

We went home fully expecting to have
the doorsteps fly up and hit us in the face,
to find ourselves on the outside of the door
after entering, or to have the gas behave
in any kind of fantastic way. But we
were out of the realms of fairyland and
everything conducted itself in an eminently
proper manner. E. 0.

Pour Hunorr.

 

'SOME INTERESTING AHECD OTES

ABOUT FAMILY PETS.

Calico is the name of our family cat,
and Sailor is our dog. The two are fast
friends, eating from the same dish, and
cold nights Calico cuddles down close to
the dog, and his long curly hair is as good
as a blanket. And such rompsl Sailor
runs after Calico and playfully catches
her by the ear. Calico will hide behind a
chair and jump clear over Sailor’s back
when he passes her hiding place. But
Sailor is fond of a walk, and often starts
of! by himself. He does not think it
proper to be accompanied by a cat, and
and when Calico attempts to go out of the
gate and walk with him, he gently drives
her back, and will not start again until
she sorrowfully disappears inside the
house. Calico is very lonely when Sailor is
gone, walks all over the house mewin g, and
when his bark is heard, runs to the door
and stays there until some one comes and
lets him in. Our door bell is an old fash-
ioned one and hangs inside, about a foot
from the floor. Both the cat and the dog
associated the ring of the hell with some
one wanting to come in, and when they
heard it both ran with the one who went
to open the door. One morning Sailor
had gone for his walk and Calico went
mewing around the house more loudly
than ever. I heard his bark asking to
come in, but with hands in the dough,
thought he might wait awhile. But the
door bell rang and that must be attended
to. So hastily wiping my hands I went
into the entry. There was Calico, and she
looked into my face and mewed. I opened
the door; no one was in sight but Sailor,
who bounded in with a joyful bark, and
they were soon in a great romp. The cat
rang the bell to draw my attention.

My neighbor has a knowing horse, kind
too, and fond of children. One day a
careless boy was pulling a baby carriage,
and unmindful of the poor little innocent
inside, pulled the wagon over a board 01
the sidewalk. It turned over, the baby
fell out, rolled oi the curb and lahded
under the horse. Old Dobbin saw what
was coming and held up his fore leg, so
that by no possibility could he step on the
child. He then looked around and

 

 

neighed to his master, with an expredon
on his face, “ Hurry up! and get that child
out from underneath my legs.” The baby
was roaring lustily, but was not hurt.

Over my writing table hangs the sleep-
ing place of a bright canary. The door of
the cage is open in the day time, and Dick
flies all over the room and is the busiest of
birds. Nothing escapes those bright eyes,
and his curiosity often brings him to grief.
I washed my hands one morning, and lefta
strong soapsuds in the bowl. Dick flew
on the edge to investigate, and it being
slippery, in he tumbled and a very de:
moralized bird was fished out. We had
to rinse him in several waters to get the
soap out of his feathers, and we shut him
up all day in his cage, where he moped
and repented his carelessness. But the
next morning he was ripe again for mis-
chief. If I write too long and do not
notice his small majesty, he will light on
my pen, and with a great flutter of his
yellow wings draw my attention. Some
times he tries to catch on my nose, and
then I must certainly put down my pen.
He hops all over the table, his bright eyes
peer out from the papers, and my ink
stand is a favorite resting place. One day
he popped his whole head into the ink,
and his curiosity was completely satisfied.
With a twitch of his head he sent a shower
of ink down on the table and letter I was
writing, and after this performance he
certainly was a most peculiar looking bird,
a vivid yellow body and a coal black head
To restore his good looks again he delib-
erately flew to my work box and wiped
the ink on the spools of thread.

Dnrnorr. SISTER GRACIOUS.

m

THOUGHTS FOR MOTHERS.

Olive Thorne Miller, in a late issue of
Harper’s Bazar, presents some ideas on the
relationship between mothers and chil-
dren, especially daughters, which will be
found to contain a grain of truth and be
worth thoughtful consideration, whether
we entirely agree with her or not. Mrs.
Miller says:

“ The fatal error of many a mother is in
considering the little woman as exclusively
her oWn property. ‘ It’s my child,’ we
hear every day. ‘ I shall do as I like with
my own.’ But the child is not hers in any
such absolute sense as these words claim.
How much heartache and pain and
wretchedness we should save ourselves if
we would only recognize in the beginning
this everlasting truth-that the child is
simply a spirit given into our care to train,
so far as we can, into right ways of think-
ing and living, with a body to nurture to
maturity; to become, after that, in some
cases, as independent of us as if ithid been
born a brother ora sister instead of our own
child. We might learn a lesson here from
the birds. * * * Does not the mother
bird wear herself out in feeding and com-
forting her nestlings, protecting them by
every device in her power, even with her
life? Yetas seen as these little ones are
grown and trained to procure their own
food they become as members of one
family, perfectly friendly but entirely in.

dependent of each other. With our more
complex nature we cannot, nor would we
desire to imitate the bird, but the nearer
we approach its wisdom the happier it will
be for us and the better for all. Nor is
this cold heartcdness or indifference; it is
simply common sense. When these im-
mortal spirits who have been under your
care in Childhood’s preparatory school are
adult they owe you, as a matter of fact,
absolutely nothing. What you have done
for them was in payment of the debt you

owed for your own bringing up; more

over, you have been more than repaid in
the happiness they have given you. * *
* They have their own lives to live; they
cannot live yours. They are and must be
free, and you have no right to dictate.
Their life is not yours to dispose of. They
belong to themselves and to God. Happy

the mother who can realize this truth and
govern herself by it. * * * One of the
most terrible bondages that young women

have endured has been the slavery to the
home, to selfish or thoughtless parents,
who have hampered the daughter’s life in

every way and dwarfed her mentally and

spiritually. It is right that she should lay
down the burdens selfishly imposed upon
her young life, and though she will have
hard work and many struggles the spiritof
peace, the independence—her rightful
heritage—are ample recompense. Bu t
there is a better and a happier way. If the
mother can so train her daughter that
home is to her not a prisonhouse, but the
dearest place on earth, that under the roof
she can live her own life, and feel that by
her presence she confers as much joy as she
she receives, until marriage, if it comes.
opens her own home to her, or if it does
not, so long as she lives, that is best; that is
ideal.” '

That mothers—and fathers too—might
be spared much unhappiness and fruitless
anxiety by simply recognizing the right of
their grown-up c lildren to live their own
lives whether those lives conform to the
ideals and standards of the parents or no t,
is very certain. That “ bringing up ” has
been afailure which has not given strength ,
courage and resolution for an independen t
existence. Any life worth living cannot
be rightly lived in subservience to another’s
will. The perfect parental training is
modeled on the Divine plan, which guides,
directs, points out the way, then leaves us
free to choose. What sorrow to parents
and children might be spared if the former
would take home to life and practice some
of the truths in the above extract? It is a
fearful responsibility to attempt to direct
the course of a sentient being, with mind
and spirit of whose secret promptings and
influences we can know nothing. We see
instances all about us; young men who
were forced into business for which they
had no taste or talent because their parents
decided what they should “ be” without
waiting to see the direction of their tastes
and talents; marriages made to suit the
elders, who decided upon the eligibility of
a suitor and pressed an unwilling daughter
to the altar by appeals to her love of
luxury, or social prestige. We see also

 

 

middle-aged men and women who have

    

  


i
l
3.

4 THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

sacrificed their ambitions, their success in
life, their own happiness, their prospects of
becoming independent beings, both finan-
cially and spiritually, to the selfishness of
a father or mother who objected to their
leaving home. Perhaps the mother wished
to keep her grown children about her to
enjoy their companionship, or from a fear
they might go astray if beyond her super-
vision; and the years and the opportunities
went by till the tie was broken by death,
all home conditions altered by a readjust-
ment of ownership, and men and women
with locks already whitening left to find
new homes and unaccustomed duties, for
which they were unfitted.

Yet children owe parents a personal
duty they cannot discharge by saying what
they have received was but their due, or
that the debt was cancelled by reversion.
What we have done for our children 2's in
payment for what our parents have done for
us. It is more. It has made our chi dren
our debtors; they owe us love and gratitude
and consideration, and care, if the time

comes when we need it. The debt is never
paid till we are finally and forever at rest

* * in that low tent

Whose curtain never outward swings.”

But as we value their happiness and our
own, we must bear ever in mind their
right to independent thought and act.
They may stray far from our standards,
grieve us by their way ward ness,but we drive
them further from us by coercion. We
are in error when we attempt to overhear
and dominate; we can only use their early
years to teach and train, so that in later
ones they will not give us cause to blush.
But the trouble is we neglect the first steps,
forget the moulding of character begins al-
most in the cradle and by and by, when
we learn the daughter’s stubborn will can-
not be broken and the son’s determination
matches ours, we make ourselves—and
them—wretched by attempting to compel
obedience, and at last snap the links that
bind us together. BEATRIX.

—_——...———_——

MY FIRST PIE.

 

It was while living the life of a recluse
in a lonely canyon in California that I
assayed my first attempt at fine art cookery;
or to use a more appropriate culinary
phrase, pastry cookin g, in trying to make
a fruit pie. Being determined to have my
crusts light and puffy, I put into my flour
a lot of baking powder, making no mis-
take this time, “the more’s the pity,” for
nbne ought to have been used. I didn’t
roll the crusts quite thin enough, leaving
them nearly half an inch thick. Covering
the tin with the under crust, fruit was put
in and securely covered with the upper
crust, forgetting to make any eyelet—no,
ventilating holes for the escape of steam.
Viewing my effort with complacency, and
invoking a blessing upon it, it was com-
mitted to the oven. Soon a terrible com-
motion was heard, d on examination the
under crust had risen up, up, and together
with the steam, had caused an eruption
like a volcano, boosting most of the fruit
out of the crater at the top, and this with

the juice was running like lava down the
sides of the pie on the oven bottom—my
oven was a Dutch oven—causing the afore-
said commotion. But I “let her sizzle”
till it was done, when I found two crusts
about as thick as my foot, with no in-
wards to speak of. Concluded not to
make an y furtherattempts at fruit pies, so
I turned my attention to making meat and
pot pies, on which i just “ dote.”
Mnsneox. GRANDPA.

 

CB AT WITH CONTRIBUTORS.

I wonder if all have enjoyed A. L. L.’s
“ Notes of Travel” as much as I have! I
think she deserves a vote of thanks for her
kindness in giving us such glowing pen
pictures cf her trip and the places of in-
terest she has visited.

Beatrix’s outing also gave us through
the HOUSEHOLD glimpses of eastern life as
she found it. I was much interested in
her account of the visit to “ Kirby Home-
stead,” which shows that while the Colonel
evidently knows how good butter should
be made, and can' tell others, practically
he sometimes fails to “ show of!” before
company. .

I think L. C., of Detroit, is “ sound” on
the tintype rage, which bj the way seems
to be on the wane, for it seems to me it
must be a trifle embarrassing to a woman
to see in after years—when long since mar-
ried perhaps—in the possession of some
other person her picture taken with an old-
time “ beau.”

I too, puzzled my brain over the
“ dreams” M. E. H. tells us of, but am
decidedly of Beatrix’s opinion in regard to
woman’s position at the present day. The
field is practically open to all men and
women alike, in every branch of labor; and
as for the average wife and mother, her
burden is no more arduous than that of the
average man with a family to support.
The difference lies in the kind of work
only.

Eudora asks why corn, peas, fruits, etc.
must be cooked in the cans. With fruits
it is not necessary, but as far as I know
green corn, peas and other vegetables can
not be preserved in cans by the ordinary
method of canning, I kept corn very
successfully last year by cooking in the
cans placed in the washboiler and boiling
six hours. This year I tried shortening
the length of time to four hours, and the
result is that my corn is not sufliciently
cooked; much of it souring in the cans, so
I shall not experiment in that line again.

I can not agree with M. E. H. on the
suffrage question. One might as well
argue that boys should not be allowed to
vote upon attaining their majority on the
plea that they will undoubtedly vote as
their fathers do, as to say that women will
do so. Women have a mind of their own,
as many a man will confess to his sorrow;
altogether too much mind to suit the mas-
culine gender in some cases. The great
mass of American women today are think-
ing women, and while occasionally you
find one of the “ ivy-vine ” tyne, the great
majority can think for themselves, and if
need be act for themselves too. And sup,

 

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pose she did want office! what rational
human being will not admit that she would
act as wisely and benefit the country as an
ofl‘ice holder fully as much as the average
male incumbent? Equal rights «to male
and female should be the cry of every
woman, whether she wishes to avail herself
of them or not. Side by side with man
when the last barrier is passed—the right
to have a voice in the laws of the land.
Should not the governed have at least the
right to say what the government should
be? And is an illiterate woman less fitted
to cast her vote than an illiterate man? No,
I am not a radical woman sufiragist; do
not belorg to a “ club;” but I do think a.
woman is as good as a man any day, and
deserving of the same privileges; and as I
said before, this seems to be the last barrier
and so let us pass it.

Personally I have my share of “rights;"
still I would like the privilege of voting if
I want to; and I expect to have it, too, some
day. ELLA R. W001).

anr.

A COUPLE OF UNIQUE ENTERTAIN-
MENTS.

Potato parties are a popular fad in
Washington and Philadelphia, and illus»
trate how little it takes to amuse the young
and the idle. The “party” is managed as
follows: Four rows of potatoes, four in a
row, are laid the length of a long room and
the sport begins. The name of two couples
are called, and the four, two ladies and
two gentlemen; station tymselves at. the
potato lines, and at the signal of a hell he-
gin the diflicult feat of lifting the first
potato on a tiny coffee spoon. This ac-
complished, it is bornein safety to the um~
pire’s table at the extreme end of the
room, and the task repeated until the four
potatoes are safely brought into harbor.
The game continues until the steadiness of
hand of all is tested, and great amuse~
ment is created. Prizes are awarded to
those lifting and carrying the potatoes in
the shortest space of time.

Good Housekeeping tells the young people
how to conduct a “spider-web party.”
The invitations had spider webs painted
in one corner and a spider in another, and
a fly on the flap of the envelope instead of
a monogram. On the ceiling of the par—
lor, overhead, in the centre, was fastened
a large spider, cleverly made out of black

velvet and pasteboard. From this stretched

to the corners and sides of the room a web
of many colored cords, consisting of 30°
strands, one for each member of the com-
pany, and on the end of each a tiny
package containing a miniature spider and
a programme, with the name of the guest
and a number. To unfasten these strands
and disentangle them and find the partner
indicated by the number and the color of
the cord was the business of the evening,
which cousumed considerable time and
created much merriment. Two or three
ingenious girls could unite and give a
“spider-web party,” making their own
arachm'dw and favors, and find much
pleasure in so doing.