a. Lon Mum“...

 

 

DETROIT, JAN.

17, 1591..

 

 

THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement.

 

 

AN UN WELUOJIE G (7581‘.

 

I'm going to tell of a female dunce,

Who came to us on a visit once,

And brought what she ought to have left behind,
A child she had never taught to mind.

Pity us! Pity us, reader. do:

Be thankful she did not go to you,

For what can be worse, or a greater curse,
Than such a guest to house and nurse?

And then you see, whenever she

find been as bad as a child could be,

The mother would say in her foolish way.

‘ How good the darling has been to day 2"

She litterrd the parlors and strewed the halls,

"Pore the paper from off the walls,

Emptied tables, and shelves and stands,

(Nothing escaped her untrained hands)

Spoiled the carpets and soiled the bed.

“ Painted the house,” the servant said.

Handled the silver and pulled the cloth,

Till the mistress scowled and the maid was
wroth. .

And ohl you know, she annoyed us so,

Yet the mother would say in her silly way,

“ How good the darling has been today 2”

With frowning faces and angry looks.

We hid our treasures and stored our books;
Hung the pictures beyond her reach,

Only to see her with bound and screech.
Mount the piano with perfect ease,

Muss the music and maul the keys.

When weary and worn with the trials borne,
Our patience tried and our tempers torn.
And bosoms full of unuttered scorn,

’We wished her a thousand miles away;

The mother would say as mild as May,
“ How good the darling has been today 1”

Always ready to drink and eat.
Fond of sour and fond of sweet;
First at the table and last to go
(Shame to bring up a daughter so),

'Teasing for lunches of pie and cake,

Whimpering then with the stomach ache:
And day and night it was scream and fight,
Discord and din were her delight;

And when, because of nature’s laws,

For a little space she was forced to pause,
The mother would say in her feeble way,

“ How good the darling has been today?"

She broke the dishes and marred the chairs,
Explored the cellar, and climbed the stairs;
Dived into drawers and scattered things,
Seized upon bracelets, brooches. rings,
Gloves and parasol, purse and hat;
Pounded the dog, pursued the cat:

And when. worn out. we moved about

As glum as greybeards sick wrth gout,

And fairly swore we‘d shut the door

On visitors forevermore 2-

The mother would say in her helpless way.
“ How good the darling has been today 1”

Now, unwise mothers, do not miss
The lesson to be found in this:
Never to praise the hateful ways
'0! ill-bred offspring you may raise;
And, when you visit, leave behind
The child you have not taught to mind.
' Mary F. Tucker.

 

EMMA ABB OTT.

 

Brave Emma Abbott, whose singing has
delighted so many thousands, and whose
invincible determination and perseverance
won her fame and a great fortune, died of
pneumonia in a hotel at Salt Lake City, on
the 5th. She was perhaps the best known
prima donna of the day. Patti, Jenny
Lind, Nilsson, Parepa Rosa. were foreign-
ers, and came among us simply for the sake
of American gold, but Abbott was Ameri-
can by birth and ancestry, tracing her
genealogy back to the New England Ab‘
botts of 1640; and she won her success
throngh our national characteristics,
energy, determination and courage.

She was born in Chicago in 18:30, but
while she was still an infant her father re-
moved to Peoria, Ill. The family were
very poor. Her father was a musician,
but there was little call for his services as
instructor and his principal revenue was
derived from the concerts and parlor en-
tertainments which he gave, and he
thought himself in luck if he received five
dollars from one of these performances,
while ten dollars was a bonanza. When
but eight years of age, Emma began to
assist her father at these concerts, and the
first time she did so the pair walked nearly
ten miles, carrying violin and guitar, to the
country schoolhouse where the entertain-
ment was to be given. Sometimes she
sang in the streets and “ passethhe:hat ”
for the contribution of small change which
was her recompense. Once the family for-
tunes were at such a low ebb that she
cut ofif her hair and sold it. WhenzParepa
Rosa was singing in the United States the
future prima donna longed] so‘imuch to
heather that she actually sang her way to
the nearest cityzatgwhichjthe,fisongstress
was to appear.

The lowest point in her fortunes was
reached at Toledo, Ohio, when she was
seventeen or eighteen. Out of money, in
debt, friendless and alone, she became so
despondent that she was onithe point of
throwing herself into the river, but was
prevented by a gentleman who,l§learning
her needs, found;a placelfor her,jinterested
others in her behalf, and as she was ragged
from bonnet to shoes, got up a littlefirecep-
tion for her, which brought in sufficient
funds to dress her decently. The new friends
presented her to Clara Louise Kellogg,
who, after hearing her sing, secured} place
for her in the choir of Dr. E. H. Chapin's
church in New ‘York City. Here her
musical abilities anther ambition to suc-

 

 

  

ceed soon enlisted the sympathies of the
wealthy congregation, who raised a fund of
$10,000 for the purpose of sending her to
Europe to study. Eugene Wetherell,
whom she afterward married, was made
trustee of the fund. To Paris she went,
and studied under the best masters of the
day. One day she decided to call upon
Patti. " Miss Abbott,” quite unknown to
anybody, was refused admission to the
diva's presence. She persisted, and Patti
ungraciously said at last, “Let her inl"
The caller produced a twenty-five cent
fan and requested the favor of an auto-
graph. Patti scowled, then laughed, and
finally wrote her name on one of the sticks
of the fan, which ever after was one of its
owner‘s chief treasures. “ I can sing! ”
volunteered the young American. “ Then
sing,” quoth Patti. And Abbott sang.
Even the exacting Italian was pleased, and
when the songs were ended unclasped the
jewels from her ears and gave them to her;
and, still better evidence of appreciation,
gave her letters to Gye and Mapleson, the
leading theatrical managers.

While studying under Marchesi she lost
her voice. Her money was nearly ex-
hausted, for foreign masters and life in
Paris are expensive, and her career seemed
closed. In this emergency she telegraphed
to Wetherell, then, remembering the benev-
olent reputation of the Baroness Roths-
child, called upon her ladyship, told her
story and asked aid. The Baroness be-
friended her and gave her a thousand
dollars, which enabled her to secure proper
medical treatment so that she recovered her
voice. Wetherell took the first outward-
going steamer on receipt of her cablegram,
and shortly after his arrival at Paris, he
and Miss Abbott were married, the union
being kept secret for some time. When it
was finally acknowledged (in consequence
of Abbott’s refusal to sing the role of
Violetta in Dr Tnm‘ata, the musical ver-
sion of Dumas’ “ Lady of the Camellias,”
on the ground that the opera was immoral,
a decision in which she was sustained by
Wetherell, who had to disclose his right
to interfere), the congregation of Dr.
C-hapin’s church was divided between ad-
miration of her position in regard to the
opera and indignation at her secret mar-
riage, which, as they considered her a
ward of the church, they called a breach
of faith.

When she returned to this country, after
singing in England, Ireland, France and
Italy, she sang first in concert, then gave
herself entirely to opera. Her success was

 

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2' ' THE HOUSEHOLD;

 

always greatest in what are called light
operas, for though she myed the tragic
roles of Harmer-ire, Leonora and Norma,
she was not equal to them; although
she studied hard ‘to become a dramatic
singer she could not merge herself
in these exacting parts. Her voice,
through its excellent training, was
wonderfully flexible, and her “vocal
gymnastics” astonishing, as showing what
culture can do for the human voice. She
delighted in florid music, and the trills
and roulades with which she embellished
TomZMoore’s well known ballad, ”The
Last Rose of Summer,” associated the song
as closely with her as “Home, Sweet
Home ” is identified with Patti. Just be-
fore the holidays the Abbott company was
playing an engagement at San Francisco.
At the hotel where the prima donna was
staying Was a young man, a resident of
Detroit, who was in the last stages of con-
sumption. He had hoped to hear the
opera Martha, in which Abbott sings
“ The Last Rose of Summer,” but was not
able to leave his room. Abbott, learning
of his great wish, went to his room and
sang the ballad at his bedside; then, laying
a great bunch of roses on his pillow, went
from the presence of Death to the brilliant
opera house and the comedy of mimic life.
Many kind deeds are recorded of the im~
pulsive, warm-hearted little singer, whose
unconventional ways often caused remark.
but whose fair fame slander never sullied.
In her prosperity she never forgot those
who befriended her in her days of poverty;
and her business integrity, her faithful
fulfillment of her promises, her untiring,
conscientious efforts to please, and the
knowledge that she always did her best,
won for her the soubriquet of “Honest
Emma.”

THOUGHTS FOR THE NEW YEAR.

 

New Year’s day 1891! 'Outside a cold
gray sky, 9. sodden earth and the steady
drip, drip, drip, of winter rain through
leafless, shivering branches. Inside, bright
fires, tidy rooms and a good dinner have
done their best to dispel the prevailing
gloom; for when Mother Nature presents
her face in dark and sullen mood, or
seems to weep in melancholy tears, it al-
ways has a most depressing effect on my
spirits. I think most people will own to
the same feeling. Clear skies, pure air
and bright sunshine are as exhilerating as
wine to the average healthy mortal. There
may be a few exceptional individuals who
delight in the fierce, wild warrings of the
elements; but dark skies and drizzling rains
do not give pleasure, although they may
serve to enhance our own fireside comforts.
I suppose it is because—as I somewhere
read—“we being children of the earth,
earthly, must therefore partake largely of
Nature and her moods.”

New Year’s day seems to be the one es-
pecial day of the year set apart for retro-
spection, the day of swears-off and new be-
ginnmgs. We can almost hear, in the
silence of our thoughts, the rustling of the
many “new leaves ”’ that are turned over

who wait for a more favorable time to break
the bad habit, or form the better one,
usually find the interval of waiting has
nailed the objectionable habit fast.
Christmas our family circle was widened
to admit through the portals of marriage a
lovely new sister. There was no note of
discord in those happy wedding festivities,
but one thought, like a sorrowful minor
strain, kept ever repeating itself in my
mind, “ There is no union here of hearts,
that finds not here an end.” Nearly the
same group witnessed the marriage vows
of another fair young bride only a few
short years ago, the dearest, best beloved
of all. Today the winter rain falls on her
lonely grave. Ahl “There is no union
here of hearts that finds not here an end.”
fare there any among our HOUSEHOLD
circle who are in the habit of keeping a
diary or journal of the principal events of
their lives? If so, allow me to ask: What
are you going to do with it? I have such
a record of several years of my girlhood
days, which I sometimes read . now with
mingled feelings of amusement, pleasure
and sorrow. I left off keeping the record
quite awhile ago, when it- degenerated into
the prosaic details of domestic life, some-
thing like the following for instance:
Baked five loaves of bread, two pies and a
pan of fried-cakes. Baby has cut his first
tooth. Or this: Set the white hen on
thirteen eggs, May 5th. Though it is just
such prosy little events as these that go to
make up the grand sum of human happi-
ness, they look extremely dull in print,
while the real inner life, the workings of
the heart, are too sacred to entrust to even
the keeping of a private journal, which
may sometimes become a prey to the
curious or unsympathetic. ’es; I mean
sometimes to destroy those records of my
early foolishness, but it will seem like
sacrilege to do it.
What has become of “Simon’s Wife”
and “ Bruno’s Sister?”
Will not some one who knows give a
few hints on landscape painting in the
Housnnonn. Consrarvcn.

Enema
m

A CHAT WITH THE CRITICB.

 

Huldah Perkins wants to know why the
women who do not want to vote are so
anxious to keep the privilege from those
who do. Bless you, Huldah, it is the
women who want to vote who are
“ anxious;” who get up “ suffrage clubs ”
and hold conventions and circulate peti-
tions and make life miserable to our un-
happy legislators. The women who have
all the rights they want are simply at
tending to those unimportant duties which
make happy homes and united families.
Their inertia is a dreadfully heavy drag
upon their progressive sisters, who say
what is undoubtedly true, that were the
whole sex “ aroused to a full sense of their
oppressed and downtrodden condition at
the hands of their tyrant, Man” ( I quote
from a suifragist’s speech), the ballot would
soon be given to women. But the ma-

 

to—day and forgotten to-morrow; for those

jority are not sufliciently aroused as yet,

the principle of the husband whose wife
was beating him, and who said “It doesn’t
hurt me and it amuses her.”

As for men never wishing they had been
born women, that’s because they have no'
conception of what a beautiful thing it is
to he a really true, noble, broad-minded,
Christian woman, who is, by dint-of finer
perceptions, keener moral sense and more
native refinement, a creature a trifle better
than a really true, noble, liberal Christian-
man. Yet I do not wonder that fifty years-
ago women wished they had been born.
men and men thanked God they were not.
women. That was before woman came
into her kingdom. The old idea that one
sex was intended by Providence to have
dominion over the other has been greatly
broken down and done away. Custom and
public opinion now accord woman the:
right to shape her life according to her in-
clination and talents and aid her in her
efforts. Once, to be a woman meant to
be always and necessarily dependent upon;
some man, as husband, father or brother-
Now, she may still lean upon a stronger:
arm, or may elect to tread the world’s high-
ways with her brothers, and the path is no
harder for one than the other, except, as I
have often said in these columns, as her
sisters make it hard for her. I could find
it in my heart to wish that woman might
be content with the rights she has already
won, and pause while men are inclined to-
treat {her with a consideration and respect
they do not pay to each other, and before-
they put her upon the level plane of per-
feet equality, with all that itgimplies.

A. H. J. thinks the amenities of life will
come easily and naturally to children as-
they grow up, if we only teach them to be:
true, thoughtful of others, to love the
lovely and hate the evil. Well. I don’t.
know about that: in fact I have grave
doubts. If it comes to a choice between
training in good morals and good manners,,
of course I vote for the morals. But why
not good morals and good manners? which
after all only repeats El. See. ’8 inquiry,
“ Why not attend to all?” at which A. H.
J. cavils. It seems to me a harmonious.
development demands it. We do not teach.
a child all he is to know of arithmetic be-
fore we begin with geography. Nor
should we inculcate the inner graces of the
spirit without cultivating the external ex-
pression of these graces in the manners. I= .
would not counsel training children to be
miniature Turveydrops in deportment; it
makes them self-conscious little prigs. I .
deprecate the constant “ nagging ” which
is some women’s only way of instruction—
the succession of “ Don’ts” which is so,
wearing on the mother and so exasperating
to the child. Nor do I admire the “sub-
dued thoughtfulness of genteel children,”
but like best the merry little romps, child-
like in their ways, who may be well. <
mannered as well as full of vitality and:
health. Noisy children are not necessarily
ill-mannered. But there are some habits.-
which, like correct language; never be-
come fixed unless inculcated in childhood,
and this is not a theory, but an established
truth. These habits are obedience and the «

 

 

and are just ldtting the agitators talk, on

‘

practices we call manners, and may will;

 
     

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THE HOUSEHOLD. 3

 

never come without training except at the
price of blushes and mortification as the
children grow into young man and woman-
hood.

I always mean to accord to others the
right to their individual opinions whicn I
reserve for myself. Hence I thought i
would let Belle M. Perry have the last
word on the dress reform question. But I
want to say a little more, because I really
cannot feel myself in the wrong in saying
any woman can dress as healthiully, con-
veniently and sensibly without the J enness-
Miller patterns as with them. A copy of
Dress (Mrs. Miller’s magazine) lies before
me as I write; a copy of Harper's Bazar
also. I have carefully examined the plates
in both; and for simplicity and sense and
service I’ll take the styles of the Bazar.
The princess dress, says Mrs. Perry, need
not serve as the model of the reform dress.
But if it does not, what becomes of the
J enness-Miller idea? For the last ten
years, before Mrs. Miller began talking
dress reform, my dressmaker has sewed
two loops to the middle back forms of my
dress waists, to be slipped over buttons on
the skirt band. This support is to all in-
tents and purposes the “ gown form” of
the Miller system. I will match my petti-
coat of black mohair alpaca, quilted half a
yard up and lined to the Shir-strings with

flannel, sewed to a yoke and fitting as .

smooth about the body as a glove, with
sufficient fulness at the back to support the
dress-skirt, against anybody’s “ leglets”
for comfort, warmth, convenience, light
weight and cost. If you take an accordeon
ple ited set of “leglets,” I’ll give points
and win the game. But it seems as if my
prophetic eye diseerns in the “ leglets ” the
emancipation of women from the tyranny
of skirts. You’ve all seen the series of
pictures by which the human figure is
evolved, through broadening, narrowing
and elongating the outlines, from a mush-
room, a tadpole, a mosquito, etc. Well,
given the leglets in their present form,
fashion gradually deducts from the fulness
till they fit the limbs, shortens the yoke
into the waist band of the modern trowsers,
and first you know there you have ’em,
just plain masculine trousers, and woman
assumes a new responsibility and care, that
of keeping her trowsers from getting
“ knead.”
When you go up stairs with both hands
full, it’s not your petticoat that’s in your
way, it’s your dress skirt. As Mrs. Miller
says editorially that the great beauty of
her system is that externally its wearers
are not to be distinguished from those who
dress in conventional style, and as the cos-
tumes illustrated in her magazines are all
the length of the ordinary walking dress—
except demi train dresses for the house, I
fail to see where we are to be helped in the
matter of going up stairs by the Miller
system. Isn’t it after all a mere question
of making our work dresses short enough
to impede our movements as little as pos-
sible; and when we go from home wear-
ing those of conventional length? In other ,
words, why not adapt our dress to personal
exigencies, which is what Mrs. Perry says

system? Why even that favored animal,
man, has his business suit and his “ oiilce
coat,” and no one ever heard of his going
to his work wearing an old dress suit.
Yet lots of women drag worn out
finery through their kitchens instead of pro-
viding themselves with suitable every day
dresses.

About corsets, Mrs. Miller says, in Dress:
“ There is a point to which the waist will
certainly spread if the corsets are left oil”,
that will be neither graceful, beautiful,
nor necessarily healthful.” She further
says: “ It is not necessary that the waist
should be permitted and encouraged to
spread all it will, but only that there should
be sufficient freedom for the natural and
correct movement of the floating ribs and
diaphragm in breathing;” and all this
leads up to a puff for the Model Badice;
which, as furnished from Mrs. Miller’s de—
signs, is a corset-shaped waist‘ with yoke
and shoulder-straps, buttoned in front and
laced in the back, and well whaleboned.
If I’m going to wear awhale’s bones at all,
I’d as soon have them in a $2 corset as in a
952 Model Bodies. A $2 corset is as
pliable as the bodice. The truth is, it is
not the corset, per as, which is so unhealthy,
such an instrument of torture, etc.; it is
that silly women will persist in putting a
26-inch waist in a 20-inch corset and then
cry “ Oh how I sufieri ” A cheap corset
is almost invariably an ill-fitting one, with
stiff bones and stifier steels, and a shape
that punches up the shoulders and fits illy
across the bust; whereas if you pay for a
corset what you would pay for a “ model
bodice,” you get a well-shaped, well fitting
one, perfectly comfortable if your vanity
does not induce you to get it too small. A
corset, to fit properly, should lace together
within one inch; if it will not do this, it is
too small. It is also too small if when
thus laced you cannotLtake a deep, full
breath, with comfort. We ought not to
blame a corset or a model bodice for our
own want of common sense and physiolog-
ical knowledge.

I want to say further that the short skirt
which swings clear of the ground is still
the recognized model for street dresses,
both in fashion journals and in fact. No
fashionable walking dress is long enough
to act as a street-sweeper. They are cut
longer, that is true, but still escape the
walk. House dresses are cut to lie several
inches upon the floor. Therefore, when
wejsee a lady upon the street whose dress
drags several inches behind her, sweeping
up the nameless filth of the sidewalk. we
can only conclude that some sudden
emergency has compelled her to go out in
her house dress. or that she has no costume

suitable for out door wear.
BEATRIX.

 

A HOME LIBRARY.

I have often felt that I would like a
voice in the Housnuom) when I have read
articles which found a response in my own
heart, or the discussions on subjects which
should interest every mother or true
woman, but I have never before attempted
to appear in its columns. Beatrix’s

 

must be done with the Jenness-Mtller

”Among the Books” is most too much

for me; I cannot withstand the temptation
any longer. Our own little library con‘
sists of one hundred and fifty volumes.
Most o‘. the books we have purchased
within the past twenty years. Instead of
buying candy and peanuts for our children
every time we went to town, we have
taught them to use their pennies to feed
their minds, or to help some one in need of
help. Our books are mostly historical
works and books of travel, with some of'
the poets and standard works of fiction and
miscellaneous volumes. We intend to add.
Thackeray’s, Sir Walter Scott’s and Hair
land’s works during the year.

With Beatrix’s permission I would like
to add to her list, “ Joseph and his Court,”
and “ Marie Antoinette,” historical novels
by Louise Mulbach. I found them both
entertaining and instructive. It was my
privilege to have for one of my guests"
Christmas day a lady who spent at one
time eighteen months in Paris and London.
She was in London at the time of Stanley’s:
marriage, and saw him and his bride as
they came out of the church after the
ceremony was performed. She says if she
could visit but one of the cities give her
Paris, there is so much more to be seen of
interest than in London. To be able to
converse intelligently with such people we
must be conversant with history, and not
have our heads filled with trashy novels
which give false ideas of real life, and'
often bring ruin to the home.

Vsnxox. MAX.

W

BRUE AND BRUNO AGAIN.

 

Perhaps the readers of the HOUSEHOLD
will remember me, though it has been
some time since I told them the story of
my perplexities and received so much of‘
praise and blame. Since I wrote, time, the"
useful agent that adjusts all things, has
arranged easily and naturally some of the
doubtful points. Bruno’s wedding day is
not far away; already the old house is'
being repaired and the new wife will enjoy‘
the fresh paper and paint, the new cook-
stove and the cistern pump which ther-
sister vainly asked for. But that’s all '
right; I’d hate to step into so inconvenient
a house as ours, were I abride, and should =
think I was not received with due respect
if no preparations were made for my-
coming.

And the matter or property was settled ‘
at last, the farm valued, and my interest '
secured to me by mortgage upon the fair -
broad acres never before encumbered with .
a plaster of that kind. It was after this
had been done and the neighbors-kind'
souls—had had time to find it out and pass-
the news along, that Uncle Joe cam
round to spend a day at the farm. He’s a:
character, is Uncle Joe, and sometimes I
like him and sometimes I don’t. I aurnot~
one of those who think because a person is:
“relation ” you are in duty bound to like-
him. “ If my relatives are nice and lovable'
and possessed of qualitiesqibadmire, I like-

them; ifuthey“ai'e not,“ I have‘nowuse.f01:

them, and that’s all there is of it. Well,
Uncle Joe begun‘at me at once. ” I hear

 

Bruno’s been a mortgaging the farm ’cause

  

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4.

THE HOUSEHOLD

 
 

 

 

you won’t live with him ’n Clary.”
“That’s about the size of it, Uncle Joe.”
“ I dunno what yer pa’d a said, having a
mortgage on the farm. He’d oughter left
it to Bruno clear, anyhow. Women al-
ways make a mess of things." That made
me mad and I flashed up in a minute.
“ ‘ Ought to have left the farm to Bruno,

indeed! Pray why haven’t I as good a
right to share in my father’s and mother’s
property as Bruno? Perhaps you’ll kindly
givea reason? ” “Yer mother didn’t have
no property. She was allus a pore, sickly
critter,” returned my uncle. Then I was
mad. “Didn’t have any property! Well
linotice her brains and her hands helped
earn what father had. If I’m not mistaken
they begun about even—with nothing
apiece. If men, especially farmers, are
so mighty independent about amassing
property what’s the reason they all get
married soon as they get a piece of land of
their own?” Uncle Joe shifted uneasily
in his chair. “ Well, there aint no sense
in your acting so just because Bruno's a
goin’ to get married.”

There it is! One is hopelessly misunder-
stood unless they do exactly as other people
think they ought. I don’t suppose any-
thing I could say would convince Uncle Joe
I' am not ugly and hateful in refusing to
give up everything and go on living at
home, working as hard as ever, sacrificing
everything for my brother’s interests in re-
turn for a home. “A home!" Under
these circumstances it means a roof to
cover me and food to eat; work hard and
buy my own clothes. Well, I can do
better than that, for I can get as much as
that in any stranger’s house, with wages
thrown in.

I’m glad that public sentiment and law
are both recognizing girls’ rights in the
world. I’ve known a good many fathers,
though, who left all their property to their
sons, expecting them to take care of their
sisters till they married. And the girls
didn’t marry, and lived on at home, de'
pendent upon brothers who felt their sup‘
port a burden, with sisters-in-law who
wished they were out of the way, and were
never satisfied no matter how much they
did. Others married to escape such a life
and found they had exchanged an uncom-
fortable place in the frying-pan for an
equally uncomfortable one in the fire. I
don’t blame them for wanting to escape,
but don’t approve the means. They say
there was never a house built that was
large enough for two families. I believe
it. Men often com'ment sarcastically

lupon women’s inability to live peaceably
together, but they could not do it them-
selves if shut within the close confines of a
house, where every little occurrenceis sub-
ject to notice and criticism. The only
reason why business men are able to
maintain partnerships is because each one
has his own particular province or depart-
ment which he manages exclusively-7B3?
you cannot do that in housework. :1“:

If a man has good sense and means to be
happy and make his wife happy he will
not marry until he can establish a home of
his own. lean tell him one thing to begin

with, if his wife is not happy he will not

 

be happy. And there’s a good deal to be
said in behalf of both sisters and sisters-in-
law, and mothers and daughters-in-law.
Not all the blame goes to one side. And
I think—to make a personal matter of it—
that it is rather hard to have Uncle Joe
and the neighbors, whom he in a measure
represents, blame me for a desire to step
out and give my brother, whom I love
very dearly, a chance to be just as happy
as he pomibly can be. And I can see no
reason why, because Bruno is to marry, I
should give up my right to our common
inheritance that he may be more pros-
perous. Do you suppose bad sign off his
right if I were the one to be married, or
stay on the farm with my husband to come
in and run it, as Clara will manage our
joint house hereafter? Not much! So the
mortgage goes on and I go off; and I‘m
sure Bruno and Clara and I will be better
friends than if I stayed, and I know I
shall be happier. What am I going to do?

I’ll tell you some day.
BRL'NO‘S SISTER.

———.~———

A KITCHEN TABLE.

 

The Country Gentleman recently de-
scribed a very convenient kitchen table
which any man at all handy with hammer
and saw can make without the assistance of
a carpenter; and the presiding goddess of
the kitchen would have reason to mark
witha white stone the rainy day devoted
to its construction. There are four plain
legs, connected by cross-pieces about six
inches from the floor. A portion of the
top lifts up, disclosing a place for flat-irons,
towels, or whatever it is most convenient
to keep. there. A leaf is attached at the
back so that the table can be enlarged on
ironing or baking days. Three drawers
are built into one side, from the top to the
cross pieces below, and will be useful for
“lots of things ” for which the cook must
usually make a pilgrimage to the pantry.
Strong iron brackets support a shelf for
water-pails on the side. The unoccupied
space under the table could be conven-
iently utilized by shelving. Then by all
means put castors on the table, that the
housekeeper may not break her back trying
to move it.

It is worth while to study economy of
time and steps in doing housework, and
every woman—especially she whose house
is inconveniently arranged—knows it takes
almost as much time and even more steps
to get things together, ready to do her
baking, as it does to do the work after the
preparations are made. A good many
kitchens are models of inconvenience; and
few men of a business turn of mind would
endure similar unhandiness in barns or
feeding-stables; they ought therefore to be
very willing to help adapt matters to the
easy performance of work by providing all
the labor-saving contrivances their wives
ask for.

PLEASE, everybody, wake up, sharpen
your pencils, put on your thinking caps
and give us some copy “right away
quick.” Let’s make the HOUSEHOLD “a
hummer ” this year.

 

THERE is something new in entertain-
ments for revenue this winter. It is the
“ map social.” Givenacompany of young
and old people; each lady pins the name of
a State upon her shoulder. The names of
the capital cities of these States are in a
pool held by the treasurer, and the man
who wants to eat supper with the State'of
Maine has to summon his geographical
knowledge and buy a slip on which is
printed “ Augusta.” Sometimes when his
early education was neglected or due pro
cess of time has evaporated it, he buys the
wrong slip and gets the laugh instead of
the lady. And some of the boys are un-
principled enough to study up beforehand,
when they can get a tip as to the precise
feature of geography which will be brought
on; For the name of a city is sometimes
substituted for that of the State, and the
man in search of a partner must name the
State in which it is situated.

 

Max's way of saving money for books
instead of spending it for candy and pea-
nuts, which she mentions in her letter this
week, is one we can most cordially en-
dorse. Quite too much money, for either
health or economy, is spent for candy and
nuts by the children. A certain amount
of sugar is needed by every child, but most
all of them get too much, especially of the
cloying French creams. The money thus
unwisely spent for what is deleterious to
health would buy many a good book which
should aid to develop that taste for good
reading which is a safeguard to young
people, especially boys. You don't know,
until you begin to save it, how much is
spent in this way. It is a great art to cut
off the non-essentials for the sake of those
things which are really beneficial.

_———...——_

WHEN mattresses are stained, take starch
wet into a paste with cold water. Spread
this on the stains, first putting the mattress
in the sun. In an hour or two rub this off,
and if not clean, repeat the process.

 

IF you use gelatine, never allow it to
boil, as that gives it a fishy taste. One box
weighs two ounces and should be soaked
in one cup of cold water, halfabox in
half a cup, etc.

W

Contributed Recrpes.

 

JELLY ROLr..-Two-ihlrds of a teacup of
granulated sugar: three eggs beaten light
with egg-beater; one tescupt‘ul sifted flour;
one teaspoontul of Royal baking powder: six
drops of lemon extract: pinch of salt. Bake
in a thin sheet: then turn out on a cloth
thickly spread with powdered sugar: spread
the cake with jelly and roll up rather tight.

Anoans‘ Foon.—Moisten one and a half
tumblers of granulated sugar with four table-
spoonfuls water: boil until it will throw a
hair. Add the whites of eleven eggs beaten
stiff; stir until 0001; then add haifa pint sifted
flour. one tablespoonful cornstarch, one table-
spoonful cream tartar and a pinch of salt.
Stir until thoroughly m‘xed. Bake forty
minutes in a slow oven. Frost th'ckly. De.
ltcioua. Knudsen“.

Burns Carers.