-oonvenient to leave town

 

 

 

   

DETROIT, JAN. 9, 1892.

 

 

THE 'HOUSEHOLD-esapmemem.

THE HUHBLE TOILEB.

It may be glorious to write
Thoughts that shall glad the two 0r three
High souls. like those far stars that come in sight
Once' 1n a century:—

 

But better far it is to speak. .
One simple word. which now and then
Shall waken their free nature in the week
And friendless sons of men:

To write some earnest verse or line.
Which seeking not the praise of art.
Shall make a clearer faith and manhood shine
In the untutored heart.

He who doth this. in verse or prose.
.May be forgotten in his day. .
But surely shall be crowned at last with those
Who live and speak for eye.

———“‘_——_

EDDY‘S. TREASURE.

 

I‘ve dot somefin white and warm !

Nobody don’t know I‘ve dot it.
Doin upstairs to show mamma

What l‘ve dot here in my pottet.
Biddy laid it in the barn ;

Hark ! she's cacklin‘ now about it.
Tellin' all the other hens : ‘ '

But she’ll have to do without it.

Cause my mamma wants dat egg.
Make a pie. or else a pnddin’—
Cookies. maybe !—.oh. I know
Lots of sings dat eggs are good in.
’ Tie a real beauty egg 1
~ You may see it dess a minute.
Dear! vat ails my pottet now ? ,
Somefin wet and sticky in it.
Oh. dear me! what shall I do ?
Egg's all broke wight in my pottet !
Wish dat slim caeklin hen
linked it stronger while she‘s ’bout it.
- Youth's Companion.

W

1892.

An unkindly suspicion usually at-
taches to the individual who finds it
“between
two days,” and to the family that
moves in under cover of night and
darkness. And yet it was thus that
1891 left us, and 1892 came in. At mid-
night the old year, bent with the bur-

.- _den Of‘days, its unfulfilled hopes, its
‘ ' disappointed ambitions, went wearily
_ array '-‘and a young and beautiful

 

I ".x‘strenger‘ wished us “many happy re-

 

   

 

 

 

.ur-ns o'f 1-,th ” holding out bright
. promi' 25.01 pl cafes and benefits to

watched the old year out

 

 
  

 

 

'rhythm of dancing feet; a few in loneli-

ness, with tears and repentance and

‘vows of amendment; some where was

that mysterious divorce of soul and
body we call Death; others in wild

, revelry—with a draught to the old

year and a bumper to the new; while to
the prosaic citizen untroubled by either
sentiment or dyspepsia, one night was
as good as another for sleeping and
New Year’s morning brought nothing
but unpaid bills; 1

For the new year brings the settle-
ment of the butcher’s, the baker’s. the
candlestick-maker’s accounts; we clear
off old scores. wipe the slate and start
afresh record. We wonder where all
our money went to last year and flutter
over the leaves of our expense books in
afruitless attempt to find out. So many
items; such a sum total; all gone. But
not a‘l the year’s bills are due on the
first of January. Our- overdrafts upon
strength and vitality, the reckoning
for our excesses, the punishment for
our sins—these stand charged to us on
the great secount, and the bills are
payable some day, just as surely as the
years come.

Our old parsing lesson from “The
Closing Year ”—said'

“ 'Tis a time for memory and for tears."

I did not find it so, listening as I did
through the waning hears of ’91 to de-
lightful Stuart Robson‘ain that most
amusing of comedies, “ The Henrietta.”
That is the wisest phiIOSOphy which
“‘ looks not mournfull y into the Past. It
comes not back again.” I would sooner
let the old year die with mirth and
gladness than with regretful tears.
And when, the play over, it lacked but
thirty minutes of‘midnight, I unsen-
timentally ate an apple and looked over
the evening paper as I “toasted my
toes ” waiting for the inevitable. It
came. The clock struck twelve to the
screaming and shrieking of whistles

and the clash and clangor of brazen-

tongued bells. And when, after a

! quarter of an hour of internal din and

uproar, 1892 was fairly introduced and

peace and quiet reigned, I wished my-

self a Happy New Year and slept till
seven.
Good Resolutions? Did I make any?

. the Oh he; didn’t have to. I' vs a nice lot on

 

 

  

sf,-

 

. system.
hailts say, from want of use; these their specialities, find them and you}.

I

will last me through the year, nicely;
and it will be economy to make use of
them.‘ But if any one wants to start in
with a stock of good resolutions. there
are a few first class ones, warranted
to wash and to stand all weathers.
which I can cordially endorse. Among
them I might name these: Do the
nearest duty first. Whatever of love
or good will or friendliness is in your
heart, speak those words now. ' Today
is ours; tomorrow may not come to us.
Speak evil of no one. Take whatever
of happiness is within your grasp, each
day. We waste our opportunities to-
day, hoping to have better ones, more
to enj1y, more time for pleasure, in
that shadowy future which does not be-
long to us. “He is the Happy Man,”
says Longfellow, “who, blessed with
modest ease, a wife and children, sits
enthroned in the hearts of his family
and knows no other ambition than that
of making those around him happy.”
Home happiness is dearest and best.
Cherish it if it is yours: if it is not yours,
make it so.

And while you are in the mood of re-
solution-making, you might make one
to write to the HOUSEHOLD more fre-
quently in 1892. BEATRIX.

 

 

BEATRI X IS RIGHT.

 

'That article in the HOUSEHOLD of
January 2nd on “ Store Accounts,"
signed Beatrix, is right in every par-
ticular. I have “been there,” .and
know whereof I speak. Itook charge
(if buying the table supplies for a
family of nine, and ten dollars a week
was all I had of the sinews of war.
With the responsibility I also inherited
the store book, and for months went
right on with the store account, and if
Saturday night did not find mes. dollar
or two in debt I felt thankful. But it
was verily being a slave 'to one store.
I might know where nice butter was
four cents cheaper a pound, and
chickens going off with a rush, but‘ like
pulling one foot out of the mud only to
pluilge it in again, I was “stuck" and
never seemed to get ahead. And then
I came to a conclusion, I would break
right off from the store that had. been
my master for so long, leave the debt
for awhile and try the “ pay as you go”
Now different grobers have

  


  

  

 
  

I\ ‘

.walta with her-l-and by the way. she ‘is

The Household.

 

can buy for less every time. At the
end of my first week, I had paid for
every article used, and had one dollar
and fifty cents in my purse! All pure
saving from the new order of things.
This money I used to square up with
my old grocer, and in six weeks I had
paid him every cent from what was left
afterthe cash purchases. Now I would
not go back to the account system. I
am better served and my table has
better food, and I always have a little
extra money to spend as my fancy
.dictates. Watch the market reports
in the papers, and look up the ad-
vertisements. Learn the different
cuts of meats and how to choose the
best, and'then the lady of the house can
go anywhere at her own sweet will.
She can also hold up her head, dictate
to the lordly butcher and grocer,
where she once cringed in almost
abject fear, because she owed him for
a month’s supplies. And above all,
she can indulge in more luxuries for
her table. and keep a bank book, or
help pay for a house. Let all begin
the new year determined to live up to
“Pay as you go,” and 1893 may find us
with a nice little sum for the World’s
Fair, and plenty of congratulatory
letters for the HOUSEHOLD on our suc-
cess with the new plan.
SISTER GRACIOUS.

W.

THE GIRL THAT “TAKES."

 

Not long since a young man while
speaking in confidence with me, turned
the conversation upon a certain Miss
E—'—. Said he: “ She is really quite
beautiful, and as charming a young
lady as everImet; still I do not un-
derstand her._ But this much I do
know; she has tried several times to
pat me on the back and I did not ‘pat’
worth a cent. Whether she really
likes me or whether she is endeavoring

' to lead me on to see how much of afool
she can make of me, I’m sure I do not
know. Last night at’the ball, after a
good long waltz, I asked her if we
should go out on the veranda. ‘And
will you talk sweet to me?’ she asked.
I told her I did not know, and then
asked her if she would talk sweet to
me. ‘Of course I will,’ she said, ‘ let’s
go before every one else gets there.’
We went, and from then, all the rest of
the evening, she just more than
doubled her compliments on my danc-
ing; asked me to call on her half a
dozen times or more, and what else I
don’t remember. Her praise was so
abundant that I doubt its sincerity. To
give you some idea I’ll just cite a
sentence or two: ‘Oh, Mr. L—-,.~ I’m
Most provoked at you. Really, why
have you denied me the pleasure of
your‘ acquaintance so long? I hear of
you at every party I go to. Surely 'you
will fav0r me with a call'before another
week‘R- I’m always at heme you know.’

4

one of the mbst, excellent dancers that
I ever met—but as I was about to say,
during this second dance she made
some remark at which I ventured a
smile. ‘Ah! ’ said she, ‘I like to bring
a smile like that,’ and at the 'same time
gave my hand a very warm squeeze.
Of course I did not return it. So you
see she is quite a character, and I think
I shall call on her as often as I can; if
for nothing more than to learn what
kind of a girl she really is.”

This instance has been cited both to
show a peculiar quality that many girls
seem prone to cultivate—that of “ men-
charming,”—a_.nd to illustrate the fact
that young men often discuss their
young lady friends quite as freely as
thev do the results of the last ball game.

For convenience, let me divide girls
into two classes; that is, from a social
standpoint. Members of the first class
are usually careless as to what the
moral character or qualities of the
young men with whom they associate
may be. And not only do they allow
these young men to take liberties with
them under cover of loneliness or
evening shades, but oftentimes they
encourage it. And is it not safe to say
that the majority of young men will
take bold liberties with a young woman
only when she gives some demonstra-
tion of willingness and approval? Girls
have more influence over the boys than
they seem to realize. It is either for
good or for bad.. .
Young men talk to each other about
the young women. And character is
so easily tarnished that it is a terrible
thing to be talked about when the bur-
den of the thought is less than that of
praise. Let me cite a bit of dialogue
overheard between two young men? ,
“Hello Cad! out to the dance last
night? I’ll bet you were; you look as
tough as an old steer; how about ye,
anyway? Had a juicy time, I’ll bet.”
“Juicy time! that’s no talk, man! I
just had a picnic all the way there and
back. You know Miss 8—? ”

“Well I should say I did; ought to
at least; come, tell me about it.” The
boys lighted their cigarettes and
walked away together to discuss the
virtues (1’) of peor Miss S—q—. It is
evident that neither of these 'fellows
had the least atom of respect for this
young woman, and doubtless would not
venture a word in her defence, not
even to Oppose the most wicked slander.

voice the ill-will of a young man. He
may remember it to her harm. . I have
known of several such cases. I have
noticed the young lady of -whOm
I was speaking, in society; she is-sel-
dom the most chatty with the boys,
and yet she .always holds her own. It
is verily true that the girl who talks
the most and attracts the most atten-
tion for an evening, is seldom the girl
who is liked the best by her friends.
Flash .wit can never outshine true,
modest worth. ~

What do young men say of them? In
the first place they do not say half as.
much about such girls as they do about
some others. Young men talk least of
the girls they like best. Never have I
heard a true gentleman introduce the
name of this girl into rude society; and
what greater mark of respect could
menCpay her?

In contrast with the bit of dialogue
referring to Miss S——, let me give a
few chance remarks spoken of young
lady number two. These arewords of
very bright young men: “She is not
handsome -as some. but I like h‘er.”
Again; “Indeed she’sa jewel, I won-
der why God did not make all girls
like her.” Just once more; “I value
her as a friend as I do no other girl.”
More might be given, but this is enough
to show the true place she- holds in the
esteem of her '_men friends. Though
wicked things may be told of her,
surely none will ever believe them.

heaven with life begins on earth. I
believe it, and ask, who are the angels
but the fair dear 'girls who know that
mortals, like“r gold, ,grow brighter and
brighter as the dross is burned away.

A young man said to me not long
ago: “ I never go with a girl unless I
aim to do her good.” Truly this is a
noble sentiment, worthy for all to think

that will make -all society safe.

JACKSON. - ~
—-——...———-

H. N. P.

~

TO rum: ran TABLES.

 

I have read carefully and .then re-
read “A Protest” in the HOUSEHOLD
of Dec. 26th,.and as I finished the read-
ing, mentally exclaimed “That’s so!”
Womanxhas had lots.of advice tucked
on to her; she’s been made a sort of

 

What young woman would not shudder,
even at the bare thought of being an-
other Miss S———_? and yet there are
many, many of them.

It is a relief to speak of the other

presence tells of purity—purity that
never allows of personal familiarity, and
at the same timealwa'ys commands the
highest respect. I have in mind .- a

young lady of this class; she is always

 

[Late in, the evening I ’had another'

r
o

.\ .. , a

class. The very atmosphere of their ,

pleasant and kind, even to the most '

ugh-d.....a,,p.....u..

time, have become overloaded with

.“ comprehension.” (My wife says with.

emphasis “That’s so! ”)

As regards the sex to which we find.

ourselves assigned, I always thought it.
best to be thankful that it was no worse,
and so never, remember going- off by.

myself and shedding tears ,hécause of,”

being denied the privilege of wearing

a_bonnet or'bustle; and asmyadviceas' . . 1 "
to that .matter;was not asked, Iztake.

. . 11.9116qurthgrresponsibility-l _.-Yet;.5st
h umble of all, and never' gives offence; , ' l
’ And I might ‘add' right here, that it is '

 
 

times,..£;when the. highway ’9: life is“
d_;t0 agree:

 
 

never wise for a young woman to pro-

Perhaps, ,we allvhave heard say that-

of and to act upon. It is the one thing,

dumping ground for those, who, at any” .

 
      
  
 
   
 
 

  
   
  

m”. "
. ,

   
    
  
   
  
   
   
  
    
    
 
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
  
    
   
    
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
 
   
  
  
 
 
 
   
   
     
   
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
    
   
  
   
 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 
   
 

 
 
       
     
     
  
  
 

 
  
 
  

       
     

 
 


 

 

  
   
  
  
 

 

    
  
  
 

 
   
   

i ’with Artemus: Ward, who said,

I * Z name of my father.

The Honsehold.

    

. 3:“

 

“it
would have been more than fifty cents
in his pocket if he’d never been born.”
'But finding myself here in Michigan as
I-did, surrounded by circumstances and
a mother’s care, I took hold and grew,
and in time became large enough to
wear a plug hat, but for this take no
great credit to myself, for mother
took charge of my earlier years, and, if
I remember aright did at times bestow
on me advice, and often impressed that
advice. Yes, how mother’s thimble
did make my head ring, and raise on
my cranium bumps of reverence for i
“the powers that be!” But as I grew
in stature and goodness thereby, and
in time reached the condition when
the care and advice of a wife seemed all
that was lacking to make life a. perfect

. sunbeam, that lack has been removed;

and for some years I’ve enjoyed the
blessings of the care and advice of my
wife.

While many a man may not have re-
ceived all the advice he could stand, yet
he has not been entirely neglected in
this respect, for have not “Mrs.
Caudle’s curtain lectures” echoed in
many a masculine ear, and broken up
many a severe fit of snoring?

‘But for fear that man hasn’t had his
full share of advice, I respectfully sub-
mit that the HOUSEHOLD give him a
chapter—a good long chapter—and I
know it will be good (I speak from ex-

» perience). Let it commence—say where

Eve left off when she gave pomologi-
cal advice—and continue on down till
“we men” of the 'present day, get
what we have so much and so long
needed. (I want to paste it in my hat,
as my hair is' getting thin and I need

.something “to keep my head warm.)

This, no doubt will fill a long felt want,
and will be gratefully received by
THEO POLUS.

—‘._

LIBBY PRISON AS IT WAS TWENTY-
EIGHT YEARS AGO.

 

In your issue of December 26, the
title, “A Visit to Libby Prison,” at
once attracted my attention. On one

of the “brass plates, two by six inches,

screwed to the floor,” referred to in El
See’s letter, in the upper northeast
corner window (looking down Wabash
avenue as it now stands) appears the
There is now lying
before me his journal, written 28 years
ago in that historic building.

As some of your readers might be in-

' terested in the contents of some of its

pages, I will Copy a single chapter de-
voted to a description of the building
and some of its surroundings as it look-
ed then to a young man whose abiding
place it- Was for nine months.

I ; :é “Libby Prison, so well known both '

. ' ‘ ,l ngrt? and south, is situated at the

 
  

 

 

':_ southeast corner of Carey and Twentieth
. streets,- running back to Dock street,

 

 

  
 

_ which runs along the bank of the James
' and Biohmond and" Lynchhurg, '

 

canal. The building is of brick and
built very substantially; is three stories
high. besides the basement, and is
divided into three distinct parts by two
heavy walls running from basement to
roof. The whole is roofed well with
iron. The building is divided by floors
into nine rooms beside three basement
cellars. 'The lower east room is used
as a hospital for sick and wounded Fed-
eral oflicers. It has about 50 beds, and
a corps of nurses detailed from our en-
listed-- man. One corner of the room,
about ten by fifteen feet, is partitioned
off for the surgeons in charge. The
lower west room is partitioned into
various compartments and used by the
officials of the prison and their subord-
inates. The other seven rooms are
connected by dOOrs through the walls
and stairs between the floors and are
occupied as quarters by the prisoners.
The basements are used for storerooms
for prison supplies, and quarters for
about thirty negroes. used in various
duties about the prison. These colored
men are all prisoners, but were none of
them soldiers. At the north or under-
ground end of the center basement, four
cells are petitioned off, about ten by
twelve feet and almost entirely dark,
in which the ofiicials of the prison con-
fine any of us prisoners they wish to
punish. Several of us have had a taste
of that medicine. The seven rooms in
which the officers are quartered are
1031} feet deep by 421} feet front. Each
room has five windows front and rear ;
besides the rooms at the east end of the
building have two windows at the side,
and those at the west end have four,
but, unlike most windows, instead of
glass and sash you see nothing but iron
bars, with the exception of an occasional
dilapidated sash which has more panes
of pasteboard than glass. The floor of
each room is supported by fourteen
posts, ten inches square. In one corner
of each room there is a hydrant and
sink. The building was used before
the war for a tobacco warehouse,
grocery, etc. The sign of the proprie-
tors, ‘Libby & Sons, Ship Chandlers
and Grocers,’ still remains posted over
the doors both front and rear.

“The view from Libby is quite
varied. Looking east we see but little;
the outlet of the canal, the heights, the
fortifications below Richmond, the
Yorke railroad depot, and a short dis‘
tance down the river until it crooks
around and is lost to view among the
hills.

' “ To the south is the canal and river;
across the river the little town of Man-
chester with its factories, mills and
workshops, farther back the fine'farm-
ing lands gradually sloping back to the
wooded hills in the distance.

“Southwest are ' the three large
bridges, the only ones crossing the
James in this vicinity , one a wagon
bridge, one a railroad bridge, and the
’other both wagon and railroad. Over

 

one of these crosses the Danville and

     

 

over the other the Petersburg railways.-»
Just above these bridges .we catch a..-
view of Belle Isle, the place wheresm
many of our. brave men have gm..
never to return—that loathsome pen.) ~
where the sufferings of Union prisonerss
beggars description.

“From the west end we get the beats:
view of the city. Although Libby. 185-»
located on as low ground as any partofi‘
the city, yet from the upper wash
windows we can see most of the town.
We catch a glimpse of the Capitol and;
other state buildings, the spires of thaw
churches, and the very heart of the .
city generally. We also seea few yards:-
down Carey street—Castle Lightnin~g;..
where they confine our deserters. And}.
directly Opposite this is the far-famed-
Castle Thunder, which is the receptacle-1
of all kinds of political prisoners and:
military prisoners, either Yankee our
Rebel, and of both sexes and all colors.
When the history of that institution is
written, it will probably form as dark as
chapter as any in the annals of war.

“From the north but little is seem
because of the rising ground on than
side. Directly opposite the prisom.
across Carey street, are several vacant
lots ; a few rods up Twentieth street is-
asmall brick church in which a day
chool for children is kept. I do not"
know the denomination. On the corner -
of Carey and Twenty-first streets is sit»-
uated the large building known- as the
Pemberton prison, from the name of the.
original owner of the building. This
and several other buildings tobe seen.
at the north have been used at different:-
times for the confinement of Federa
prisoners. E. H...

STANTON. ___...___

THE MEAT BARREL.

 

When city people visit in the country,“
their friends. with hospitable instinct?-
and meaning to be very, very good tar»
them, usually visit the butcher and-‘1
purchase a. roast or steak. If they only
knew how much their guests would pre—»
fer home cured meat from the pork.
barrel, sweet and clean, fried brown:
and crisp, with a spoonful of cream ass
garnish, they would more frequently; ~
serve it, especially for breakfast. The:
city market affords no such salt pork as:
the farmer’s wife fishes up from the-
barrel in the cellar, cuts thin and fries
“ done brown;” and it is a delicacy and
a rare treat to those who see fresh meat.
every day of their lives, and who find its
“breakfast bacon” a poor substitute» -
for what they perhaps once got un.~
commonly tired of.

There is much difference in the.-
quality of salt pork, even from farmers?
cellars, due to the methods of packing:
and the care given, perhaps also to?
the condition of the cellar.. The barrel
in which it 13 packed must be perfectly ,
sweet, otherwise it will inevitably tainte ,
the meat. A molasses barrel makes as
good meat barrel, but one. which hw-


  

4

The Household. . '

    

 

  

 

wontained liquOr of any kind should not

:be used; meat will not keep in it. we
«dance heard of a benighted individual
:who tried to convert an oil barrel into
ea pork barrel, but do not advise the
«experiment.

In packing pork, first allow the meat
‘10th perfectly cold but it must not be
shown, nor have been frozen. Cover
the bottom of the barrel with salt; on
this place a layer of meat, the rind
{toward the barrel, packing as close as
apessible. Fill all the spaces with salt,
sandeover the meat with salt. Pack in
tth‘as way till the cask is almost full.
Mare 3. cover made to fit loosely inside
She Barrel and weight it with a good
«sized stone to keep the meat in place.
.Fill the barrel with a saturated brine,
«put on cold, of course, and your meat
is well packed. If the brine turns red
and looks cloudy it must be poured off,
escalded and skimmed, then returned.
"She meat must be kept under brine, all
«of it. The practice of some house-

keepers in leaving the rinds cut from
the meat floating in the brine is a
:i’ruitful source of spoiled meat.’

'To prepare a pickle for hams and
bacon, a recipe endorsed by good
housekeepers is this: “Take half as
amuch water as will c0ver the meat, and
‘gmt in all the salt it will dissolve; add
ahe other half of the water required,
{with two quarts of molasses and a
~->quart'er of a pound of saltpetre for each
‘ihundred pounds of meat. In six weeks
:ethe meat will be ready for smoking. It
«should‘be hung in the smokehouse for a

shay or two before the smoking begins,

etodry off. In warm weather a dark
-=smekehouse is necessary, to' guard

.sagainst fiies. As soon as the meat is
sufficiently smoked, which is largely a
«matter of taste, each piece should be
amveloped in a strong paper bag fas-
riened securely so no insect can get
c through where it is tied, and hung in a
«a dry place. ”

The Germantou'n Telegraph annually
rrepuolishes a recipe for pickle for beef,
hams, mutton, pork, which is con~
asidered to give extraordinarily good re-
~-.sults: “To one gallon of water take
«one and a half pounds of salt, half a
{pound of sugar, half an ounce of salt-
:pet're, and half an ounce of potash. The
protaah should be omitted unless a pure
article can be obtained. In the above
=:ratio the pickle can be increased to any
(quantity desired. Let these be boiled
t'tOgether until all the dirt from the
“sugar rises to the top and is skimmed
vsoff. Then put it into a tub to cool, and
«when cold pour it over your beef or

mark. The meat must be well covered
”with pickle, and should not be put down
301' ’at least two days after killing,
enduring which time it should be slightly
esprinkled with powdered saltpetre,

‘ which removes all the surface blood,
" «etc, leaving the meat fresh and clean.
*Some omit boiling the pickle, and find
. ‘ 91;; oil, althOugh the opera-

 

ltion of boiling purifies the pickle’by

throwing off the dirt always to be found
in sugar and salt. If this recipe is fol-
lowed strictly, it will require only a'
single trial to prove its superiority
over most ways of putting down most,
and will not soon be abandoned for any
other. The meat is unsurpassed for
sweetness, delicacy and freshness of
color.” '

 

TAILOR-M ADE GOWNS

 

A correspondent inquires ,about
tailor-made gowns, where they are
made, kind of material, cost, etc. The
tailor-made gown is the product of the

'highest skill in dressmaking, conse-

quently it “comes high.” Taylor &
Woollenden, Newcomb 8.: Endicott and
L. A. Smith & Co., of this city, make
such dresses, and charge from $18 to
$30 for so doing. The material is any
heavy goods .preferred, such as heavy
weight camels’ hair, Bedford cord,
English tweeds and cheviots, at from
$2.50 to $3 per yard. The goods is
very wide, however, and six yards are
an ample pattern fora tall woman. The
genuine tailor-made gown has little or
no trimming, depending upon fit and
finish for its style. It is sometimes
asserted that a tailor-made gown re-
quires a tailor—built girl—that is, one
of fine figure, to wear it. But the com-
petent ladies’ tailor does for his
patrons what the men‘s tailor does for
his; he pads the garment so skillfully as
to conceal the defects of the form and
give the wearer a perfect figure. The
ordinary dressmaker fits you as you
are; the ladies" tailor fits you as you
ought to be. And of course he is not
going to do that “without money and
without price ”—a good round price too.

I chanced to be spending the after-
noon with a friend not long ago when
her new dress came home. You all
know what an interest women take in
new gowns, so of course we at once in-
spected it. The bodies was beautifully
finished—handsome enough to wear
wrong: side out, almost—and was a
miracle of padding. My friend is thin,
angular, and flat-chested; in this dress
she looked what the fellows in the Rus-
sell House windows would call “Gad
sir! a demmed fine figure of a woman!”
and she must have felt as if she were
surrounded by cushions. There is a

great deal of satisfaction to be had out,

of a tailor-made garment, but alas,
they are luxuries to be afiorded only
by rich people, though I do’know
several girls who economize very
closely in order to have at least one
tailor-made gown for a street dress.
When speaking 'about tailor-made
gowns among some rural friends once,
an old lady spoke up, very much as-
tonished: “Why, do ladies, real nice
ladies, have men fit their dresses?”
(Dear old soul, her ideas of propriety

were terribly shocked; she’s so dreads
fully preper she. will not let the sales-

 

if?” and] 15 good for lehick

    
    

man fit her" shoes, but insists on trying

them on herself, or having several ' . , .
pairs sent .to the house and making her , \
daughter put them on and, button them ‘ ’

for her.) But there is nothing at all , . '
shocking to the 'most modest woman in '
having “ a man! ” fit her dress.’ In the
first place, she goes to the establish-
ment where she proposes to have her
dress made, is shown into a pretty
parlor, and after from fifteen minutes
toan hour’s wait, is favored with an
interview with the autocrat. A con-
sultation over the. material, style, ex-
pense, etc., follows. Perhaps her
measure is taken then; perhaps she is
asked to call ata certain hour of an—
other day. The man takes the measures
himself, always in a certain order, an
assistant writing them down. Atthe
next call, the forewoman puts her into
the dress and summons the tailor, who
casts his eagle eye over .it, puts a pin ,
here and there, concentrates his mas- . , *
sive brain upon the sweep of the skirt , .
and the set of the sleeve, gives an order I ,;--:
or two to the forewoman, and disap-

pears into the next fitting- -r00m, per-

haps saying as he goes, j‘Madam, you

will call tomorrow at four." Is there
anything in that to:shock the most ' , '9
super-sensitive delicacy? The man re-
gards you with as much interest as he
would a wooden. Pocahontas‘he was
measuring for a new suit of paint, and
he touches you, if he touches you at all.
as delicately as if you were egg-shell
china and he was afraid ycu would
break on his hands. BEATRIX.

 

 

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41
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Contributed Recipes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

JOHNNY Gama—One egg; two tablespoon-
fuls of brown sugar; one tablespoonful of
shortening (lard or butter); one teacnpful
of sour milk; one teacupful of cornmeal; one
teacnpful of wheat flour; one teaspoonfnl of
salt, one-half teaspoouful of soda; one
teaspoonful of baking powder.

Poa'r HURON. Mas. 1.0.0.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHICKEN Sana—Boil a chicken tender
and out the meat from it. when cold. into
small bits. Cut up tender, white celery
enough to make the same~ amount and stir.
together. Stir into the mixture a table- - ' _ . .
spoonful of olive oil and three tablospoon- . ' ‘ '
tale of vinegar; with a saltspoonfnl each of
salt and mustard, and let stand on icecr' 1n 3
very cold place for a couple of hours. When _ -
served, mix with a mayonnaise sauce, leav- " '
ing part to turn over the top. or use the
mayonnaise dressing alone. without the.~ ,
vinegar and oil. The mayonnaise is made-
as follows. Put the yolks of three eggs in
a bowl and whlle beating gradually add one
even tablespoonful of mustard. one of sugar;
one teaspoonful of salt and a saltspoonfnl’ o
cayenne pepper. When this' 13 mixed, add
pint of the best (Tuscany) olive on, stirring.»- ,.
in a few drops at a time. It will ,thickcn ,
like a jolly. When half the. cilia in 166' . ~‘ '
juice of one lemon by degrees with ’
of the oil. and lastly. a quarter 0
good vinegar. This sauce .wul