.4 wow-"'1 9W3? DETROIT. FEB. 1%, 1591. THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplemsnt. WOMAN. Uncomprehended and uncomprehending, The darling, but the despot of our days— Smiling, she smites us—fondling us she flay 5. Still madly loving us, yet still contending, And proudest when her conquered heart is bending. The most unyielding when she most obeys- She is so fashioned that her face betrays The struggle ended, long before the ending. She’s like a bubble borne along the air. Forever brightest just before it breaks— Or like a lute that’s mu‘est ere it wakes In trembling ecstasies of love divine; Woman is always just across the line at her own purposes. Beware! beware! ——0/«,ivago Tribune. -—-——-——.o.—-——.-—.. it is easy enough to be pleasant When life flows by like a song. But the man worth while is the man who will smile When everything goes dead wreng; For the test of the heart is trouble, And it always comes with years; And the smile that is worth the praises of earth Is the smile that shines through tears. —E&la Wheeler Wilcox. -———-—Q.._.___... THE LESSONS OF A TRAGEDY. For the past week the papers have been full of the terrible tragedy at Dimondale, by which little Nellie Griffin, a homeless waif from the State Public School at Cold- water, was betrayed to an awful death. The offender has been justly execrated. There is reason to believe that the crime was coldly premeditated, and that the murderer looked ever the ground and de- cided upon the disposition 0‘? his victim’s body before he obtained the custody of the child. He is now in prison, convicted on his own confession and sentenced to imprisr-nment for life; and it is to be hoped Executive clemency may not, after popu- lar indignation has subsided and a few years have dimmed the recollection of his heinous crime, remit his punishment and release such a beast upon a much enduring public. The Superintendent of the State School has been severely and rightly censured on all sides for the haste and carelessness man- ifested in allowing one of the wards of the State to leave the institution without the formalities and wise precautions provided by the statute in such cases. There is no excuse for such negligence. The Superin‘ tendent’s supposed it was all right” cost a life—yes. two lives, fora man behind prison bars for the remainder of his exist- ence might better be dead. A day’s delay, a little investigation, would have revealed altered residence, and the villain’s base designs been foiled. In these days of tele- phone and telegraph there is no occasion for suppositions'regarding matters of fact; assertions are easily verified, and the charge of culpable negligence must ever remain against Superintendent N ewkirk. We turn from the tragic fate of this friendless little one—her short, unfortunate life, unblessed by a mother’s aii'ection or a father’s care, whose happiest home had been a State institution from whose shel- tering walls she was to go, the victim of one man’s indifference, and another’s basest passions—with a sigh for the sin and wretchedness in the world. How grateful to God‘s mercy should those girls be who are sate in happy homes and guarded by loving parents! But there are some lessons to be learned from the fate of Nellie Griflin by mothers and fathers and the girls. As I have said, the man who sent her away with a stranger of whom he knew nothing has bren con- demned in no measured terms. But are not some mothers, who stand in much closer relation to their daughters than Su- perintendent Newkirk to the inmates of the State School, almost as negligent as regards informing themselves about the young men who seek their daughters’ society and are permitted to go out with them? How about the girls who go to parties with strangers stopping two or three days at the village hotel, perhaps riding several miles to the place where the party is held? How about the long evening walks with ac quaintances made on the street? You may say “nice girls” do not do such things, but all girls were once innocent, and it is their mothers’ business to keep them so, not by keeping them ignorant, but by warning them, in the plainest kind of language, of the dangers to which they expose them- selves. Not all strangers are villains who would take advantage of a girl’s impru- dence, but there are enough of them to make discretion the best safeguard. And no young man whose good opinion is worth a rush thinks the less of a girl because he knows she is not to be “picked up" by any fellow~I use the word purposely-who wants a flirtation or something less innocent. And mothers who have young daughters should caution them again and again to have nothing whatever to do with strangers; never to accept an invitation to ride or walk with a man with whom they are un- acquainted, or accompanya stranger to any the thin deception of assumed name and place whatever. They may refuse many well meant invitations, they may chance also to refuse the one proifered with evil intent. Crimes against chastity are becom- ing so numerous and outrageous that it is not possible to be too careful of our young girls, and if error is possible, it is best to err on the side of safety. Young girls and children should not be left alone in isolated farm homes where they may some day be at the mercy of those peripateric individuals we know as tramps. A man may better risk his worldly possessions than his children, and the latter are at best poor protectors of property against an able-bodied man with malicious purpose in mind. When I lived on the farm, tramps were my most frequent callers, as many as seven having stopped at the house in one day. I am amazed, now, at my own recklessness. I was alone most of the time during the day, not even a dog or a dinner-bell to summon help it help were needed, yet I never knew what it was to fear them. Perhaps that was the reason I was never molested. I remember the greatest scare I ever had very well, even to this day. I sat in the sitting room, my apron full of carpet rags I was sewing. The outside kitchen door opened and a large-sized cold wave made itself felt. I jumped up, catching my apron and the rags together and went to close it, supposing the wind had blown it open, though such a thing had never happened before. On the threshold stood a villainous looking man—- jail bird, as I knew by his short cut hair— it was before all men wore their hair a la convict. The unexpected apparition startl- ed me dreadfully but I managed to say “What do you want? ’ “Something to eat.” I learned early in my experience that the easiest and safest way to rid myself of such callers was to feed them, so I cut some slices of bread and meat, glad of the opportunity to possess myself of a murder- ous looking butcher knife, and thus armed I felt bold enough to give the intruder a little lesson in manners along with his “cold bite” - “Next time you stop any- where you better remember to knock in- stead of walking right in; it’s a little more polite.” He said “Yes ma’am; thank ye,” so meekly that I was ashamed of my terror. But I could not help the fit of trembling which came on after I had securely barred the door behind him. I think now, were I where such callers were frequent I should keep a small gunof the revolver pattern handy and learn to use it in case of an emergency. I should not think a. man would be comfortable, knowing that while work calls him to a distant part of the farm, his wife. and children may he assault- ed by some unhung scoundrel, worse than a wild beast. BEATRIX. 2 THE HOUSEHOLD. A MOTHER‘S PERPLEXITY . I am glad that there is one woman brave enough to make an open attack upon the subject of “,free entertainment.” I am happy to state that in my long list of sins I can only point to one of that kind set against my name. Although that was committed in the days of my youth, and I was well received in the home of the stran- ger where I was sent to get a free supper, lodging and breakfast, I had not been long in the house when the ridiculousness of my situation dawnei upon me. And I made a solemn vow that if that sin of impedance could be forgiven I would never let it be repeated. Nor has it. Now, I would like to give just one experience of mine as hostess: There was to be a musical convention in our town, and I was looking forward to it with great anticipations. I found a young girl to stay with the children during the session, thinking by living plainly during the time I could manage nicely. A day or two before the opening of the convention, alady called and asked me how many I could entertain. I began to feel ashamed of my selfishness, and felt guilty because I had not thought sooner that of course there would be strangers who would expect entertainment, so I told her I would take two. Of course I felt somewhat discour- aged, for my plan for plain living must be changed to one of continual feasting. Two young ladies were sent me, and I foolishly consoled myself with the thought that un- der the circumstances they would of course make themselves useful, and Icould attend the convention. Next morning I arose a little earlier than usual that I might be able to get my morning’s work done in time for the first session. As the young ladies did not put in an appearance when breakfast was ready, I gently rapped on the door and told them breakfast was wait- ing. They had been awake for an hour or more, running around the room and laughing. My husband was anxious to go to his business, and I was watching the clock, mentally calculating how much work an ordinary woman could do in an hour if hard premd. At length after an- other hour’s delay they made their appear- ance, still giggling. They finished their breakfast in time to put on their hats for the forenoon session, leaving me with everything to do, and not aword of regret. At noon it was the same, and in fact every day was only a repetition of the first. One day they came to me and asked permission to bring two or three of their friendsto din- net. What could I do but consent? I was "in for it” and was bound to do it well. Husband sent up chickens for dinner, and I prepared as nice a dinner as I could. Just as l was taking the chickens from the oven, the girls came rushing in for some things they had left in their room; they said, in answer to the question I asked them as to whether their friends would be there soon: “No, we have concluded to go with them.” Well i I began to feel glad that the next day would be the last. ‘Did I attend the convention? Not I did not even get my nose inside the door. And such a room as they left! Well, I had better stop or I shall say more than I ought. During their stay at our home, they laughingly told me they could neither of them sing much—they did not care a cent for learning, they only came for a good time. I did not dispute their word. But after they were gone, I held a brief communion with myself, and this was the question up for discussion, “ Has it paid me i". When I thought of my weary body and the great disappointment I had home, for the sake of two frivolous girls having a good time, I answered “No,” with a capital As I consider the HOUSEHOLD a good place to go for advice, I have for some time been trying to muster sufficient courage to bring to its members one of my troubles. It may seem to many of you a simple thing to be troubled over, but to me it is becom- ing a serious question. But I will "state my proposition” and rely upon the gener- osity and good sense of the. Housnnonn band for a solution of the problem: I have a family of five children, do my own work, have a large house to care for, and not very good health. Every mother knows what it is to prepare several chil- dren for school every morning, then, when they are gone, with their noise and confu- sion, she looks about her in dismay, espec- ially if they are a little late. There are so many rooms to be put in order, so many beds to make, and the thousand things that will crop up to be done. I usually make a rush for the sitting room as soon as they are gone, and hurriedly put it in order, then back to the kitchen to finish the work there. Just then, in come two or three of the neighbors’ children, saying, “ Mamma says we can stay and play with Nellie.” our youngest. 0h aearl 1 think, how (an I endure it, but as “Mamma” sent them what can I do? The sitting-room is soon changed to a Bedlam, and when dinner time comes they leave their playthings they have brought with them, and go home to dinner. I hurry away the dinner work, hoping to get time to lie down a few moments to quiet my nerves, before beginning my sewing, when they come trooping back with an extra child and a dog. They march in, throw caps, scarfs, cloaks, mittens, rubbers, and‘ playthings infever‘y‘directiontwalkfover ftheAconch Ed'chair? help" themselves” to whatever they wish and stay until tea time. Three '0? these children often come before my children are dressed in the morning. There is not a room in the house where I can go and be free from their intrusion. I asked a friend today what she would do under such circumstances. She said: “You are too indulgent. I should send them right home. The mothers know that you seldom let your children go to their houses, and never in the morning.” They are neighbors whose friendship I prize, and would not wish to do anything to cause an unpleasant feeling. But I know I must do something. The care of my own children is more than my strength will hear at times, and my nerves and strength will not bear this extra strain much longer, but how to manage this thing is what troubles me. I have lived over twenty years very near neighbors and have never had a word of trouble, and would rather hear what I do than to have any now. I thought by keeping my own children strictly at home it would have the desired effect. But it has not. D. B. m”.— A CRATTY LETTER. Isit not strange now much more we en'- joy personal gossip than the very best of “ preachmentl ” When I think about it, i remember Thomas Carlyle’s saying “ The proper study of mankind is man,” and he exemplifies by telling how much more in terested we are in our neighbors’ outgoings and incomings than in things of much more real importance. That is the way I explain our interest in Bruno and his sister; I am fully convinced in my own mind that Bruno’s Sister is a sensible woman, and does not need Uncle Joe’s or the neighbors’ advice or commiseration. I. think there is a place for every one in this world, but notin the house with a sister-in law or a mothersin-law if one desires the most friendly relations; so you see, of course I’d think she was sensible, and in the right, when we think just alike on the same subject. Then there was Beatrix’s “Chat with the Critics.” Well, Icannot do that justice, so will say nothing, for she knows my mind. I have never kept a diary, but for several- years past I have thought I would. i know it would be very interesting reading to me, should I chance to live twenty years longer. My days are anything but mono-- tonous; and they are not half long enough for what I wish I could accomplish. Why don’t I, then? Want of time is one of the greatest reasons; i should wish to write so much to make it intelligible reading twenty years hence. In the last HOUSEHOLD of 1890 there was a “ New Caller” who signed herself Igno- ramus. Oh do not take a name so belittle- ingl I know it is not because you really think it suitable to you. And as far as those detestable log houses go—a good nice house is a comfort, but it is not the the house which makes happiness. I have heard many people, in their latter years, say, when they had a large nice house and well furnished, that they have never taken so much comfort as when they lived inthe little log house. They then had youth and ambition and were looking ahead an; ticipating the new well-furnished house and all its accessories. It is not wealth or fine things that make happiness; the real germ from which happiness growsisin our hearts; it grows and buds and blossoms under almost any circumstances. Though the size of the blossom may be influenced by circumstances, yet the fragrance is more delicate and lovely if the flower is- undersized rather than oversized. With Harriet, of Homer, I think we can- not be too careful of our use of the “ King’s- English." nor in the practice of etiquette at table and in all our relations with one and another. If we can not remember the- au thorined rules of_etiquette, we can avoid "Wfimww“ '; if ‘ «a. » .3 r ,a. swap”; .3. » s a . ' r «é‘wrs “masks“ -." a a! v. WWW'?' i t 5. v s m: -“. . was: r. 1 i. I" , use...” ; . _ '1'.) sisahamviis’rh «fetish-suns. . . THE HOUSEHOLD. 3 k giving pain purposely, or trying to be thought smart because we dare give a pointed thrust in the dark. We can all do as we would that others should, and that is the foundation of the finest manners and of etiquette. M. E. 11. Aurora. A. FEW THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A DAY’S READING. mic—n.“ Beatrix’s call for more copy has reached my ears, and today I take up my pen to aid her what little I can. It seems to me to be a hard matter to find a subject on which to write, which would beinteresting to all, so I will write on what holds the most interest for me just at present. I have been reading, today, many old poems, some from noted writers, and others from those more obscure, and was much enter- tained thereby. One thing claimed my at- tention as never before. Through all the verses there seemed to me the same thread of thought, perhaps because I sought for it, and all seemed to give to the reader the same advice as plainly as if each one had said: Taste only the cup that is sweetest, See only the thugs that are fair, Here only the mas o completest, Let not your heart harbor a care. All this looks very nice on paper, and if it only could be done life would be but a time of pleasure, where now there are often deep sorrows. One can not choose from the wayside of life all the roses and never gather a thorn. One of these old poets also told me to day that joy never slumbered. If I would I might keep it awake; and I stopped to wonder if he really could have believed that when he wrote it. I wondered if he never had a sorrow, or is the realm of the poet’s mind governed entirely by pleasure? I wondered if ever he had trusted a friend and found him untrue; or if no one he had ever loved had ” walked with Death” and passed onward leaving him standing here alone, or if ever he had cherished a beautiful dream and awoke to find it a sad reality. I wondered if he had never sought some bright prize, and it had seemed to move onward as he approached it, or worse than that, if he did gain it and found it a curse instead of a blessing, and was led to exclaim in his bitter disappoint- ment: 'Tis ever thus with every prise, No bubble glitters long, And streaming tears from mortals‘ eyes Tell not so much an unwon prize As disappointei ones; And deeper he the sorrow finds Who most hopefully runs. When a writer tells ustc see only what is fairest, I always want to tell him that we can’t help it; we may not see the thorn on the rose stem, but we know it is there and can feel it, and I for one would not do it if I could. What cowardice it would be to shun all the dark and hard ways of life and those not the best for self 1 Sometimes I have thought—who has not? that the path of my neighbor’s life is so much smoother than mine, but it may he I am much more favored than he and do not realize it. Life is not all clouds, neither can I make mine all sunshine. Sisters, do you think it can be done? We can and should make the best of everything, but I have yet to find a life that is all roses. I have found life a mixture of sadness And pleasure and laughter and tears, And trials and heart sighs and gladness, And longings and hopings and fears. But always they all are so blended These goblets of bitter and sweer, That life with some one of them rended Would someway no; seem all complete. MARSHALL. CLARA BELLE. ~——--—.O.———- THE CHINESE LILY, AND THE ‘PASSION FLOWER. I have never known a Chinese lily to bloom a second time, and so far as I learn the Chinese look for bloom but once from the same bulb. If planted out in the garden in spring they will remain sound like other bulbs after forcing, and in autumn start up with fresh strong foliage, but in no case with bud and bloom. The bulbs will multiply, bit whether they will live and flourish outside a greenhouse, in our Michigan climate, I cannot say. I will try the experiment, and with a degree of confidence in success, as the Narcissus family is remarkably vigorous and hardy as well as floriferous. I know of no better flower for use or more pure and dainty than the Paper White Narcissus; and there is no branch in the cultivation of flowers that gives more satisfaction or sure success than blooming bulbs in winter. The Passion vine does not require heat, moisture or richness of soil in extreme, but will bear heat better than cold, so we may not, taking the seasons together, hope to keep it in Michigan cold winters in the garden. I have kept one of the most hardy of the varieties, P. caerulea, or Blue Passion flower, which has beautiful blos- soms, two years, but the third was an ex- tremely cold season, and that, with many other treasures of orchard and garden, suc- cumbed to the cold. Ithink if one were planted in a box and removed to a cellar in winter it would do well. They are very comm 3n in many varieties in the Southern States and some bear edible fruit. an'rox. MES. 11. A. FULLER. A RAINY DAY IN THE COUNTRY. One morning last fall I was awakened by the not unusual sound of rain-drops, and realized with dismay that it was Mon day, and I must go to my school. There was no help for it, so I pinned up my skirts, put on rubber boots and with a grip in one hand and an umbrella in the other, started for the station. That part was not bad ; but when, after ten minutes’ ride, the conductor helped me off the train into a mud-puddle, and I took a survey of the landscape before starting out to walk the mile which lay between the station and the schoolhouse, I felt discouraged. Those who calla rainy day in the city gloomy, have surely never been in the country. The rain came in a steady, exasperating down— pour, and, looking at the gray, lowering sky, it was difficult to believe that “ be- hind the clouds the sun was still shining ;” and, indeed, it did not help matters much if it was. In town you can not see quite so much of the sky, nor miles and miles of sodden earth, dotted here and there by low, wood-colored houses; and you usual- ly hive a few companions in misery, but here not a soul was to be seen. But the clock at the station reminded me that I had no time to linger, and besides the road was rapidly approaching a condi« tion that would render boats the only safe conveyances. Mud! I never knew what it was until that morning. Ever since I have wondered why Virgil or Dante did not add to their descriptions of the punish. ments of II ides that of cmtinu illy walking through mud with dry land ever receding. Certainly it would be worse than rolling a stone up hill to have it fall back. Probably they never spent a rainy day in the coun- try ; or else they had good roads in Italy. Once I stuck so fast that I began to wonder if the cmtents of my lunch—box would keep me from starving until people began to stir out again after the deluge. The only living being that I saw was a cow. She looked at me with great melan. choly eyes, as if she would have liked to say, “ It is a rainy day,” and I felt grateful that she couldn’t. Never before had I been so glad to see the schoolhouse ; my umbrella was soaked through, my boots heavy with a vast amount of real eszate ; and, in short, I an swered perfectly to Mtnttlini’s description of a “demmed damp, moist, unpleasant body.” It rained steadily all day, and glancing occasionally from the window I could see the water in the ditch at the foot of the hill rapidly rising, and the adjacent field be- cominga lake. 1 took my ge )graphy class to the window and gave them a practical lesson on the divisions of wa’er. There is nothing like ma ting use of materials at hand. Perhaps others were the. ikiul to see that day come to an end, but I think no one could have been more so than myself, when, safely returned to my boarding place, I could light the lamp and draw the curtain on the dismal scene outside. Pear HURON. E. 0. AN OPEN LETTER. TO A YOUN3 GIRL “ May thy joys be as deep as the ocean: Thy sorrOWs as light as its foam." I read this and many similar wishes from friends, as I turn the leaves of your auto- graph album; then I look into your face, fresh, fair and rounded, with that intense reality of the beauty of youth which comes to one only when her mirror begins to re- flect wrinkles and grey hair, and the hands lying in her lap take on a strange resem- blance to those of some aged person she used to notice in her childhood. Ah, it is a good thing to be young with so much of lite before you ; but I like to believe that the years which take away so much will leave us more ; and that in one should really wish to cancel the space between childhood and the present. “But oh, my lot has been 5) hard,” sighs one. “ I have had so much trouble, so much pain ; and have made so many mistakes.” Yes; but the blessedness of them all! How conceit- ed, how impatient of others, one who has - s -W.’m~e.am»ifiz}