Ugo

 

 

DETROIT, JAN. 21, 1898.

 

 

THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement.

 

 

WHEN LOVE GOES BY.

 

When love goes by what can a ‘woman do?

Is there no prayer to pray, no suit to sue?

Though he be tied beyond the wintry see,

Will not his errant steps come back to me?

Will he not answer to my heart’s low cry,
Though he goes by?

Nay. sweet, upon thy yearning lips command

The seal of silence. Beach no asking hand

To love once flown. Go on thy lonely ways;

Torn thee a face of smiles to the world’s gaze

Or else sink down upon life’s thorns and die
When love goes by.

“w...—

Friend, if thou dost bethink thee now

To lip some earnest pledge or vow,

Search well thy heart, nor idly let

The burden of thy soul be set.

Load not thy faith until it strain

And break, and all be worse than vain;

Measure thy power, and for the rest

Beseech thy God to bless the rest.
—Clint¢m Scollard.

W

THE WHITE LADY OF AVENEL

 

When Professor Moulton analyzed
Sir Walter Scott’s “Monastery” before
the University Extension Glass, show-
ing its artistic design, the clearly de-
fined purpose running through its plot,
how carefully its characters were align-
ed and contrasted, and how seemingly
inconsequent details were really acces-
sory to a harmonious whole, I had to
confess to myself that though I had
read my Scott many, many times, much
of the subtle meaning, the fine harmo-
ny, the charming contrasts, had been
lost on me; I had been a “skimmer.”

“The Monastery” is not among the
most popular of the many tales conceiv-
ed in the iertile imagination of the
Wizard of the North. It met with
severe criticism. Its incidents were
declared to be forced and artificial, and
two of its characters, the “White Lady”
and Sir Percie Shafton, the Euphuist.
denounced as the one unnatural, the
other absurd. (And yet, I don’t know
that the fictitious Sir Percie, who was
the type of a courtier of the Elizabethan
era, with his stilted phrases and his
gorgeous apparel, was more ridiculous
to the simple household of Dame El-
sneth than anineteenth century dude
with his cane, his eyeglass and his
tooth-pick shoes would betothe family
of some honest, simple farmer.) There
is a series of contrasts running through
the story, which is laid in Scotland dur-
ing the time of the Reformation. Two

allege friends become widely separated

by religion—and religious differences
madea wide gap in those days—Father
Eustace, the Sub-Prior, Henry Warden,
the Protestant preacher. The Bible,
the mysterious “black book with
silver clasps” Whiilh was the occasion of
a wetting for Father Philip and an out-
door nap for the Sub-Prior, develops
two Protestants, Lady Avenel of the
old generation: Mary Avenel 6f the
new. There is the contrast between the
settled, quiet life of the Catholic do-
mains and the WllO. life of the lay bar-
rons at Avenel Castle; two beautiful
maidens, one the high-born Mary of
Avenel, the other the humble Mysie of
the Mill; and, chief centre of interest,
out of the same family and developed
by the same influence—love for Mary
Avenel—we have Halbert, the elder
brother and Protestant warrior, and Ed:
ward, the younger brother andiCatholic
priest, in those days the two extremes
of life. Over and through all is the
conception of the White Lady, having
in special charge the interests and wel-
fare of the Avenel family, her birth on
All-Hallow Eve making Mary Avenel
the particular charge of this fairy—a
Protestant fairy, by the way, associated
with the before~mentioned “black book
with silver clasps” and the fortunes of
those who use it.

The idea of spirits which guide 0r
control for good or evil the destinies of
human beings is familiar to all. There
is Biblical authority for the idea, in the
ministering and the tempting Spirits
mentioned therein. Fairi;s and witches
and ghosts were actual existences to
even the more intelligent people of
medieval times; and it is a foul blot
upon the record of our Puritan fore-
fathers that they burned women at the
stake in a superstitious terror of ‘their
dealings with evil spirits. But it is not
with these that Scott deals ; he makes
the White Lady one of those creatures
of the elements which surpass human
beings in knowledge and power, but are
inferior to them in being annihilated
at death. These spirits, Scott tells us in
his preface to “The Monastery,” are of
four kinds, according to the elements
from which they take their origin—
sylphs and fairies, or spirits of air;
gnomes, of earth; goblins, of fire; and
nymphs or naiads, of water. The
White Lady appears to combine sever-

 

al of these elements, always appearing

 

as a white, ethereal, filmy mist, aunior.
of air and water. Of her origin, she
gives this poetical account :

" The star that rose upon the House of Avenel
When Norman Ulric first assumed the name,
That. star, when culminating in its orbit

Shot from its sphere a drop of diamond dew.
And this bright font received it—and a. spirit
Rose from the fountain. and her date of life
Hath l'o-existence with t'le House of Avenel
And with the star that rules it."

The White Lady, when we trace her
as a separate interest in the story,
we find a very interesting creation.
The rhymes in which she always
couches her communications to mortals
——nnd which I dare say two-thirds of
those who read think merely pretty
jingles, as if the fairy were afflicted
with a rhyming mania—are invested
with new meaning, after listening to"
their interpretation by Professor Mouls
ton.

The first appearance of the White
Lady is where Lady Avenel, her
daughter Mary and the two faithful re-
tainers Tibb ani Martin. are on the
way to seek refuge it the Tower of
Glendearg. When they are flounder»
in; in the bog,_ uncertain which way to
turn, the child sees a figure invisible to
the others’ eyes and exclaims, “Bonny
leddy signs us to come you gate!” By
following her direction the little party
is extricated from its perilous predio~
ament. The White Lady comes next-
to rescue the black book which Dame
Elspeth purloined and gave Father
Philip and which he undertook to carry
back to St. Mary's. In guise ofafair
but weeping (as if the two could ever go
together!) damsel, the gallant monk,de—
spite his cowl not oblivious to the
charms of beauty in distress, oliers to
carry her over the river which the
churlish bridge-ward compels nimtc
ford. Midway the stream and while
they are in imminent peril, the maiden
begins to sine,

E“Merrily swim we. the moon shines bright. “
Both current and ripple are dancmg In light.

and all the rest of it, and mischievously

ducks the panic-stricken monk as she .

robs him of the black, book which was V
the real object of her ride, singing in in
frenzy of glee:

“Landed. landed! the black book hath won.
Else had ye seen Berwick with morning sun!
Sam ye and save ye. and blithe mot ye be,

For seldom they land that go riding with me!"

Then she returns the book toMary
Avenel; and when Father Eustace sets
out in quest of it, secures it and starts
to 1eturn to the convent with it the

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2

White Lady again interferes, though
the treats the Sub-Prior more respect-
fully than she did the Sacristan, per-
haps on account of his superior rank
and greater purity of character. W'hen
he adjure l the voice which he can bear
but cannot locate and which orders him
“back with the volume black,” to say
what it is, the reply comes:

‘That which is neither ill nor well.
That which belongs not to Heaven nor hell;
A wre ~.th of the mist. a bubble of the s-‘ream,
’I‘vi ist a waki. g thought and a sleeping dream
A form that men spy
With the half-shut eye.
In the beams of the setting sun am I."

Isn’t that a beautiful description of a
fairy? She pushes him from the saddle
and he lapses into ins ansibility. but she
still watches over him, for when Chris-
tie of the Clinthill would rob the insen-
sate priest,it is only the holly bush, in-
signia of the Avcnels, that waved on his
crest that let him ofi with a blow and a
tumble.

Halbert’s jealous anger and pique
caused him to seek the aid and counsel
of the W’hite Lacy when he feared his
brother was supplauting him in the
favor of Mary Avenel. When he has
had resource to the magic spell and
summoned the fairy (who, it will be no-
ticed. changes the rhythm of her verse
at each address) and demands in that
name which she must honor, “What
art thou?" she answers:

“Something between heaven and hell.

Something that neither stood nor fell.

Something that through thy wit or will

May work thee good—may work thee ill,

Neither substanm- quite nor shadow.
a: a s * * s: a:

B It 2:

Wayward. fickle is our mood

Hovering bettveen bail and good.
Happier than brief—dated man,

Living twen'y times his span,

For less happy. for we haw

Help nor hope beyond the grave.

Man awakes to fioy or sorrow,

Ours the sleep that knows no morrow.”

This is a complete epitome of fairy
attributes. Fairies are good or bad as
they are subject to or governed by man,
having some of the characteristic pas-
sions of humanity,especially anger,mis—
chievousness, malice and revenge, but
above all whimsical and capricious,fond

of solitude,

"Haunting lonely moor and meadow,
Dancing by the liannteflspriug. '
Riding on the whirlwin 1’s wwg,‘

and above all, having no part or lot in
the salvation bought for mortals, as is
said again and again by this white fairy.

Few who read the description of Hal-
bert’s journey with the White Lady to
the mysterious cavern where ethereal
fires guard the precious volume he
would claim of her, see in it mere than
apretty picture to be conjured up by
the imagination and add its mystery
and picturesqueness to the dealings of
the’ White Lady with the House of
Avenel But it has really a signi-
ficance, both beautiful and interesting,
which Professor Moulton interpreted in
this manner: Fathoms deep in the
bowels of the earth,so deep that it takes
from noon to twilight to make the
journey, is this cathedral where the
black book is guarded. It is the grotto
of the four elements-earth, air, water
and fire, the elements worshiping

 

Truth (the Bible) in the absence of
Man, the true worshiper. Its shape is
that of the circle—the perfect form.
Fire, the perfect element, especially
guards and warships the sacred volume.
The stalactites and stalagmites which
reflect thousands of prismatic rays
typify air and water, which are pre-
sented in their most beautiful forms in
these glittering ornaments, while the
fire leaps up in a pyramid of yellow
glow, falling back ina rosy fountain,
both the most beautiful of forms and
colors. And when Man, the true wor-
shiper, comes in the person of Halbert.
the worship of the elements is done; the
fire leaps and dies, and darkness blots
out all the rest.

I could not help wondering whether
Scott himself, prolific, tireless writer
that he was, was conscious of all this
beautiful symbolism when he wrote
those rhymes which fall so trippingly
from the tongue, and painted these
charming word pictures.

I suppose the large family of Grad-
grinds, who believe in “Facts,sir,facts!”
will ask what is the use of studying the
attributes of a purely imaginary, utter-
ly impossible creation like the White
Lady. Well, what is the use of a bird’s
song, or a flower’s perfume, or the
brook’s music? Imagination is one of
the grandest of our mental faculties.
Let me remind you that imagination is
the source of all our great discoveries
and inventions. Columbus, and Fulton,
Watts, Guttenberg and Edison, all im-
agined. Imagination is the genesis of
fact.

BEATBIX.

ENGLIS H B ALLADS.

 

Recollections of our youth and child-
hood and native land are fondly cherish-
ed by most all peop‘.e. The article in a
recent HOUSEHOLD on “Scottish Songs”
stirred up my youthful memory, for
“Bonnie Deon,” “My Highland Laddie”
or the “Blue Bells of Scotland” were
the first songs my father taught
me to sing. There are others not
mentioned, as “Coming Thro’ the
Rye” and “My Highland Home” which
in words and sweetness of tune, is next
to “Home, Sweet Home.”_ But then I
am English bred, and there are some
noble English songs, both national and
sentimental, as the “Battle and the
Breeze.”

"If all units as once we did.
To keep her flag unfurled,
Old England will forever stand
Proud mistress of the world,"

.“The Bay of Biscay 0,” "The Old
Arm Chair,” "You’ll Remember me,”
the "Rose of Allendale” and hosts of
o‘.hers are sung often at the glee clubs
and county taverns where three or four
rustics gather on summer evenings to
drink a "pint 0’ beer.” And I have
heard some as good singing among
household hired help as from Ma—
dame Vestris 0n the stage.

There are some pirting songs such a
“To the West, to the West,” “Cheer,

 

The Household.

‘r

Boys, Cheer,” but to those who have
realized the parting there is nothing so
touching as the“Girl I Left BehindMe.”
have seen regiments of English, Irish
and Scotch soldiers embarking for the
East Indies at the London 6; North-
western station, their wives and sweet-
hearts destined, perhaps, never to see
them any more, yet with the promise
in the song I will return again to “the
girl I left behind me.” The most touch-
ing song to me is Byron’s “Isle of
Beauty.” ‘

“Isle of Beauty fare. thee well.
Shades of evening close not o‘er_us,
Leave our lonely bark awhile;
Morn else will not restore us
Yonder dim and distant isle.
Still my fancy can discover.
Sunny spots where friends do dwell;
Darker shadows round as hover,
Isle of. Beauty,fare thee well.

“Pin the hour when happy faces
Smile around the taper‘s light;
Who will fill our \‘ scant places
Who will sing our songs t0'nlghtl
Through the mist that floats above us
Faiutly sounds the vesper bell
Like a voice from those who love us,
Breathing fondly, fare thee well!"

"When the waves are round me breaking
As I pace the deck alone.

And my was in vain are seeking
Some green leaf to rest upon.

What would I not giva to wander
Where mv old companions dWell

Abs Ince makes the heart grow foader,
Isle of Beauty, fare thee well."

PLAINWELL. ANTI-OVER.

A SCOTTISH POEI‘.

 

Oh Caledonia! stern and wild.
Meet nurse for a poetic child!

The editorial, “Scottish Songs,” in
the HOUSEHOLD of January 7th. let
loose a perfect flood of memories upon
me. I was a child again,one of a family
of six; and how we used to sing those
songs even in our childhood and we
brought them hare with us where they
have often given pleasure to ourselves
and to others. As a family we are now
widely scattered, but when we have a
reunion these old songs are never omit-
ted from the programme but seem to
come without formal invitation.

Icould mention many Scottish songs
that have no tinge of sadness; and I can
imagine that manv in that audience
wished themselves young once more that
they might sing them with the old time
feeling even if the rendering were
not so artistic.

I am an American in heart and soul,
proud of our Republic; but

"Land of my sires! What mortal hand
(Jan e’er untie the filial band.
’l‘hat knits me to thy rugged strand?”

What a pleasure it is to know that
Whittier, ‘ ‘our dear dead Whittier,” was
an admirer of Robert Burns! Whittier,
our very ideal of purity and goodness,
was not only an admirer but the cham-
pion and acknowledged debtoro Burns.
In a letter to the Burns Club of Wash-
ington declining an invitation to attend
their birthday festival he says, “The
world has never known a truer singer.”
We admire others, we love him. As
the day of his birth comes round, I take
down the well-worn volume in grateful
commemoration, and feel that I am
communing with one Whom living I
could have loved as much for his true
manhood and native nobility of soul as


The Household.

-. 41¢! w

 

for those wonderful songs of his which
shall be sung forever. ‘_f1‘hey know
little of Burns who regard him as an
aimless versifier—‘the idle singer of an
empty day.’ Pharisees in the church
and oppressors in the state knew better
than this; they felt those immortal sar-
casms which did not die with the utter-
er but lived on to work out the divine
c immissix'm of Providence.”

There was much in common between
Burns and the gentle-hearted Quaker
poet; both were lovers of humanity. ad-
vocates of a common brotherhood, in-
tolerant of oppression either by Church,
State or individual:

"To-day be every fault forgiven
Of him in whom wajoyl-

We take. with thanks. the gold of HeaVen
And leave the earth’s alloy.

“And. if the tender earbe jarred
Tnat haply hours by turns

The saintly harp_of Olney‘s bard.
The pastoral pipe of Burns.

No discord mars His perfect plan
Who gave them both altongue;
For he who sings the Love of Man

The Love of God hath sung!

"Let those who never erred forget
His worth. in vain bewailcngs:
Sweet soul of songlj—l own my debt
Uncancelied by his failings!"
——J. G’ WINS/tier.

Mas. W. J. G.

HOWELL.

A PIONEER’S C iRiSTMAS PRESENT.

It was Christmas Eve. I sat by the
open fire in 'a handsome parlor, now
and then glancing at the tree that was
still covered with its gorgeous trim-
mings, but the presents had been dis-
tributed, the boys had gone out- for a
grand final skate before bed time, so it
was very still. A beautiful old lady sat
on the other side of the fire, and now and
then drew her hand across an elegant
fur robe that lay over her lap, it must
have cost a small fortune. A pretty
young girl sat on a cricket by her side,
occasionally turning a ring on her finger
towards the light, so that the diamond
would fish and sparkle like a tiny sun.
She seemed to be very well satisfied
with her Christmas present, but turning
to the old lady, gently patted her check
and said:

“Grandma! What was the very pleas-
antest Christmas you ever passed in
your life? This one?"

"No, dearie; the first Christmas after
I was married stands out in my mind as
the most wonderful. and beautiful.”

“Please tell me about it.”

“Well, it was fifty years ago that
your grandfather brought me to the
little home he had made, mostly with
his own hands. It stood where the
centre of our city is now, but then there
were unbroken woods all around. How
scared I used to be to hear the noises at
night, often the bowl of a wolf, and
sometimes the fall of a giant tree! We
came about a month before Christmas,
and the 109‘ house, consisting of one
room and a lean-to, was done all but the
door. A thick quilt hung in frontof the
opening, but I never was easy thinking
of that terrible forest and the wild
beasts that could not be securely shut and
locked out. Time and again we sent

 

‘i 7/,

 

.. A...” ‘i‘nrggp.w»n..‘ ...- wvv‘lk'

to the saw mill for that door, and the
man was always promising to bring it.
Christmas morning dawned clear, and
quite warm. Your grandfather had to
go to mill to get some flour, but prom-
ised to come home before dark. I was
unusually lonesome and tearful that day.
Then I heard a shout, and going to the
opening there was a man dragging the
new door towards the house. It fitted
nicely, and had a strong bolt inside.
When it was all done,and the man gone,
I sat down and had a joyful cry. I re-
member we had fried pork and pancakes
for tea, to celebrate the day and the
arrival of the door. Soon after people
kept coming, houses were built, and a
big city grew around the little log house.
Grandfather made money, and finally
we moved into the outskirts, my child-
ren, and you, dearie, are very kind.
See what a present your father made
me, and look at all the other beautiful
things! If in those early days of toil,
trial and privation some one had told
me of this Christmas. it would have
been like a fairy tale. But somehow,
(and the 01d lady’s voice trembled) those
early days seem more beautiful. and real
than t iese.”

The young girl pressed a kiss on the
withered cheek and said: “Grandma! I
wish it were possible to live the heroic
life you have. Perhaps I can though,
in some way. I mean to try.”

SISTER GR iCIOUS.

VISITING THE SCHOOLS.

 

 

Since I have been a reader of your ex-
cellent little paper, there have appear-
ed, at different times, articles which I
have had a strong impulse to answer,
but nothing has really aroused me
to action until I read the letter
in last week’s issue in regard to
parents visiting the school. I have
been a pupil. a teacher, and am
now a parent, and I cannot agree with
the writer of sail article upon the sub-
ject. I am inclined to think she has
missed her calling, for she evidently
does not understand her position. When
she talks of visiting a woman in her
own home and inspecting her modes
of house-keeping, she makes a very
strange comparison. A woman’s home
is her own, and her house-work is her
own private business, and outsiders
have no right to inspect or criticise it.
A school-house is public property, a
teacher a public servant, hired and
paid by the public, and it is certainly
the privilege, if not the duty, of any
tax payer or patron of the school to
satisfy themselves in regard to the man-
ner in which the teachers are doing
their work. The mothers of the State
of Michigan are as a. rule intelligent
women, who can very easily understand
the modes now practiced in the schools,
and it seems to me that,were I teacher,
I should take pleasure in explaining
any of my methods to any visitor who
was interested enough to inquire about
them.

a.

 

Before my marriage I taught for some
time in the public schools of one of our
thriving inland cities, and I enjoyed
my school and loved my scholars. and
nothing gave me greater pleasure than
to have the parents visit the school
and understand what the children
were doing, and note the progress
they were making; but oftimes, some
little remark in regard to the disposi-
tion of Johnny or Susy was of great ben-
efit to me in knowing how to manage
or govern them.

The practice of parents visiting the
school is of inestimable value to the
pupils; the more visitors a school has
the less likely will their entrance
prove to be an unpleasant interruption.
Scholars soon learn to go on with their
work in the presence of visitors,and the
daily routine need not be broken into
to any appreciable extent. Since my
own children have attended school I
have made an effort to visit the school
where they attend as often as possible,
and have always received a gracious
and cordial welcome from the teachers
in charge; and I congratulate myself
and my children that the teachers in
our school do not feel as E. C. seems to
in regard to this matter. I am sure that
it has been an incentive to my children
to do as well as they can in their studies,
to know that mother is interested
enough to occasionally visit the school
and hear them recite. In fact, I
think parents who never visit the
school are sadly remiss in their duty
to their children, for such visits not only
stimulate the scholars, but in most
instances, encourage the teachers. I
am almost inclined to beiieve that the
writer of the article in question was
simply writing to call forth argument
upon the subject, for I do not like to
think that any teacher who desires to
do what will be for the best interests of
her scholars can really feel as she pro-
fesses to upon the subject. But if it be
true that such are her sentiments, I
hope, for the welfare of her scholars,
that the time may speedily come when
she may have a chance to make a con-
tract for life with one of those men who
are so near perfection, and be relieved
from serving an ignorant and meddle—
some public. , BACK NUMBER.

MORE LIGHT WANTED

 

 

Sister Gracious gives a recipe for
making vanilla extract, in the HOUSE-
HOLD of June 11th, 1892, which she
says is excellent. We tried it.and fol-
lowed recipe exactly and have a com-
pound that tastes like alcohol and noth-
ing else. Thinking perhaps it was the
fault of the vanilla bean, got another
and put it in, but it did no good. It has
stood five or six weeks. She said it was
as strong as love, but I don’t like love
that tastes and smells so much like
alcohol. If she will tell me what is the
matter with it I will be very much
obliged. D. K.

8.1m: Cant.

 


 

The Household.

 

 

COMMENTS.

 

Beatrix’s article, “Scottish Son gs,”took
, me back to my own girlhood. How we
used to sing those songs in our young,
full, round, rich musical tones, that
sounded so much sweeter t an the
screaming of the fashionable singer of
to-day! Of course there are exceptions
to the rule, and you, my dear friend,are
among the exceptions, and all who wish
may laugh at my old fogy ideas; at the
same time I know there will be plenty
who will agree perfectly with me.

Our concerts usually wound up with
“Flow Gently; Sweet Afton,” or “My
Willie’s O’er the Dark Blue Sea,”
“Willie’s Return” or some other pathet-
ic song. It’s not often I go over those
old times, but reading “Scottish Songs”
I was sixteen again.

I do not wish to criticise E. C.’s letter,
but it did seem a little out of harmony.
I can see no reason in an employed per-
son resenting the right of the employer
to inspect the work she is performing,
whether that person fully understands
the methods or not. If E. C. will pre-
serve that letter until she is fifty years
old, she will look upon it with very dif-
ferent feelings from her present ones.
There are many things that you ~g
people do not know, things they have
not the least idea of, so of course do not
know that they are ignorant; there is no
one who knows it all; even the most
ignorant can tell us something of value
that we did not know; and the best edu-
cated people know this. Another thing,
youth cannot understand how time,
which brings a younger generation on
to the stage of action with such greatly
improved facilities for knowing many
things, often leaves the older ones
stranded on some reef; they perhaps are
poor in this world’s goods, with large
growing families, their days filled with
hard work, and are not sure of even
their nights; they have little oppor-
tunity to keep abreast of the times in
many lines; but they are growing in
heart experiences, and many of them
could insnruct the 'literati’ in their line
of work. How necessary it is we should
make a great deal of allowance for
'others,giving the same forbearance we
would wish extended to ourselves! No
doubt the tiresome old people have just
as little of an idea that they are tire-
some, as the bright young pe0ple of to-
day: iinagine they need the forbearance
of those older and wiser than them-
selvesgg‘u The above remarks are intend-
ed for that class of young people who
are so ready tocriticise what they know
very little about, and their number is
not a few, I am sorry to say.

What are our “Householders” reading
this winter? I have been reading a
little of Herbert-Spencer‘s writings; and
of Columbus until I’m tired; and yet we
must pretend we are interested until the
Exposition is over; then we may take a
rest unless we have too many Columbus
souvenirs to remind us. I did enjoy

 

 

reading the “Romance of Spanish His-
tory” by S. C. Abbott; that included
Columbus’s labors to secure assistance
to make his voyage of discovery. The
life of Queen Isabella as portrayed is
very beautiful, extraordinarily so as
compared with the most of the royalty
of those times. This is an old book and
I presume can be found in any library.
My reading this winter has been for
a purpose. As a recreation I have read
several novels but none of them do I re-
member much about, with perhaps the
exception of “Roger Hunt.” This is
the story of a marriage after the George
Eliot fashion; and is calculated to teach
the necessity of a great deal of care and
forethought before taking any import-
ant step and especially so in that of
marriage. One may lose a fortune or
break a leg,and it be made good as new
again, but marriage makes or mars for

all time.' So beware, young people,be-
ware. M. E. H.
ALBION.

 

IN FORM ATION WANTED.

 

Will Beatrix or Mrs. Fuller, or any
one else, please answer a few questions
for me? First, how old must a night
blooming cereus (cactus grandiflma) be
before it will b 00m, and how often will
it bloom after it once begins? Also,
how often does a lwya. carnosa need re-
potting? We have one that was re-
potted a year ago in the fall and is
doing nicely. During the last year it
has grown continuously, never showing
any signs of wanting a rest ; grew vines
twelve feet long, and was in blossom
from the first of February till October.
We don’t want to do anything that will
be detrimental to it, and don’t want to
leave it too long nor repot it too soon.
Any information will be gratefully re-

ceived by
FARM ER’S DA UGHTER.
HUBBARDSTON.

_.__ -- hoods—«Mm.

HOME-MADE SOAP.

 

Good Housekeem'ng gives the follow-
ing recipe for hard soap, which should
be good. The resulting product is said
to be hard and white, and the process
is certainly simple and not trouble-
some.

“One-pound can of potash, one quart
and one-half cupful of cold water. Stir
until dissolved, with a wooden spoon or
stick —it will be quite hot; let it stand
until perfectly cool. Five pounds and
one-half cupful of strained grease warm
enough to pour, add one tablespoonful
of powdered borax, then pour in the
cold lye (gradually), stirring all the
time. It looks very much like honey,
and whitens as it cools, but the longer
you stir. the whiter it will be. Line a
tin pan or shallow box with paper and
pour in the soap. After it begins to
harden, mark off into such shaped cakes

spread separately or piled cob-house
fashion on the attic floor.

“It is a good plan to keep an old tin
for the purpose, and try out each lot of
grease in the oven, before putting it
away, then it will not get rancid, and,
of course, the better the grease, the
better the soap.”

A recipe for soft soap that is well re-
commended by a practical housekeeper
is this: Use the stone potash, which
comes in lumps,allowlng a pound toeach
pound of clear grease. Crack the pot-
ash in small pieces and put it into a
kettle with two gallons of water. Boil
till dissolved. Add the grease, and
when melted, pour into a tight barrel,
and fill up with boiling water. Stir it
every day for a week, ten minutes each
day, and it will gradually become like
jelly. Twelve pounds each of potash
and grease will make a barrel of soft
soap. The grease must be tried out and...
strained before using.

Contributed Recipes.

 

If you do not object would like to occasion-
ally send some of the recipes from the back.
numbers of the Housmom. some of those
used for years that never fail to belood.
The following has been one of our favorite
every-day cakes since we first tried it, from
the Housmow of J one, 1886:

 

Monsssns CAKE—TWO eggs; one cup sugar ;.
one cup molasses;half cup butter; three cups
flour, spice; two teaspoonfuls sods dissolved
in a cup of boiling water added after all the
other ingredients are stirred well. Mix in the
order named; bake slowly in a deep duh. It
never dries up.

 

Pom: I’m-Many farmers have todepend
on their pork barrel for their general meat.

family ofgsix or seven use a tin pan.Peel and
slice potatoes enough to fill the pan 3 gener

one quarter full, first a layer of potatoes
then bits of raw salt pork—(salt lightly, as

. the pork is hardly snfiicnent, adding a little

pepper) then potatoes and pork again—use
about six slices. Add water enough to cook.
say one pint. Lay on the top a good biscuit
crust, pressit to the edge of the pan: make a
wide slash in the center. Cook one hour.
After the potatoes and pork are ready, let
stand on top of the stove while y0u make the
crust. After taking from the oven, if not
moist enough add a little more hot water.
We had a Canadian girl who first made this;
she used for the crust one cup cream and two
cups of buttermilk. Always wash the pork
before using.

Home Mann Sauces Forums—Two
dozen good sized long potatoesmare thin (for
the best of the potato is near the outaide),slice
thin on a vegetable slicer. Put in cold
water with two small handfuls of salt and
one tablespoonful pulverized alum; let stand
one hour, stiring up quickly two or three
times. Drain in a colander first. Then take
out afew at a time, spotting and drying
between cloths. Have the lard hot'aud fry

onthepapsr. Thiswlll fish‘s a g ,.

 

as desired; it will be ready to take out
the next morning, and should then bel

meffliofm
new ‘s ’ ‘ ..

unmet-sh ~ "MAM—ev0\_‘mw¢-wflwwu‘wblh“\

The following helps make a variety. For a.

afew at a tima After skimming out turn'
on brown paper that every particle arm . .
may be absorbed. Salt while tossing?“ . ’ '

        

 

 

  

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