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DETRQI'I‘, AUGUST

24:, 1886..

THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement.

 

 

A 110 THER ’8 WORK.

 

Early in the morning
Up as soon as light,
Overseeing breakfast,
Putting all things right;
Dressing little children;
Hearing lessons said,
Washing baby faces,
Toasting husband‘s bread.

After breakfast reading,
Holding one at prayers;
Putting up the dinners;
Mending little tears;
Good-bye kissing children,
Sending off to school,
With a prayer and blessing
Mother’s heart is full.

Washing up the dishes,
Sweeping carpets clean,
Doing up the chamber work,
Sewing on a machine;

Baby lies a-crying,
Rubbing, little eyes,

Mother leaves her sewing,
To sing the lullabies.

Cutting little garments,
Trimming children’shats,
Writing for the papers,
With callers having chats;
Hearing little footsteps
Running through the hall,
Telling school is over,
As mamma‘s name they call.

Talking with the children
All about their school,
Soothing little troubles,
Teaching grammar rule;
Seeing about supper,
Lighting up the room,
Making home look cheerful,
Expecting husband soon.

Then with all her headaches,
Keeping to herself,

Always looking cheerful,
Other lives to bless;

Putting to bed children,
Hearing say their prayers,

Giving all a good-night kiss
Before she goes down stairs.

Once more in the parlor,
Sitting down to rest,
Reading in the Bible
How His promises are blessed;
Taking all her sorrows
And every care to One,
With that trusting. hopeful heart,
Which none but mothers own.
—-———.¢.——- _

SOCIAL DISTINCTIONS.

 

Ever since the world began, there have
been classes and gradations of society,
subtle lines marking distinctions of birth,
intelligence and wealth. It has been so
since the beginning; it will be so to the
end. A French comnfune may guillotine
aristocrats, and American socialists con-
spire against capital, with a view to estab-
lishing a “universal brotherhood” in which

 

there shall be no caste, no rank, but all
meet upon a. common level; and even were
it accomplished, how quickly would it be
destroyed by the gravitation which draws
intellect to its mate, with its consequent
dominance over ignorance, its natural and
inevitable assumption of leadership! How
quickly would the industrious and saving
accumulate wealth. the scheming attain
power, the idle and improvident come to
want, thus restoring, in a decade or two,
former conditions exactly.

All men are equal before the law—that is,
theoretically of course; in actuality we often
find they are not—but socially, mentally,
morally, there are many classes. Many of
them are founded upon ridiculous ideas, to
be sure, but Thackeray reminds us that they
obtain through all strata of society, from
the highest to the lowest. “The coster—
monger who carries his wares to market in
a moke, looks down upon his neighbor who
peddles his vegetables from a hand-barrow.”
So the resident of the elegant mansion on a
fashionable avenue, dubs the dweller in a
modest house on a side street, “not in our
set, you know.” Too often the feeling at
the bottom of our social caste is a sort of
“ I on better than you” sentiment, utterly
unworthy the true man or woman. The
trouble is we measure by false standards,
There is exclusiveness, and exclusiveness.
There is a vulgar exclusiveness, which rates
admission to its circle by conditions rather
than character; and there is a nobler ex-
clusiveness, which creates its atmosphere
by recognition of affinities, by sympathy,
by the appreciation of kindred qualities;
and this latter is the plane to which our
social classifications should be adjusted.
Not “How much is he worth?” “What is
his business?” “Who are his kindred?”
but rather, “What is he mentally, morally?
Is his life noble; are his aims lofty?”

I read some time ago, a story in which
the one colored girl in a high school grad-
uating class resigned the honor she had
fairly won by earnest study, because the white
girls of the class refused to appear upon the
platform- with her on Commencement day,
and prevailed upon their parents to uphold
them in their action. She was the daughter
of a poor woman, who had. made great
sacrifices to enable her to complete the
course and fit herself to teach her own race
in a Southern school. She was fully as in—
telligent as her classmates, amiable, neat,
but poor, and black, the last her crowning
sin. She gave up the cherished hope of
her life, at the request of her teacher, whose
good sense was overborne by the popular
clamor, and brooding over the injustice

 

done her, died a few months later, literally
of a broken heart~ I read the story, as I
have said, and though fully aware of the
class distinctions and race prejudices ex-
isting in our democratic country, remember
thinking so great a. wrong could not be
compassed in actuality in our Northern
states, where “liberty and equality” are
words on even children’s lips.

But in June, the month of roses and
“sweet girl graduates,” the papers chron-
icled the very action of the story, in all
save denouemmt. At Vincennes, Ind.,
eight of the high school girls refused to
graduate with the ninth member of the
class, a colored girl. The obnoxious mem-
ber’s standing was above the average, it is
possible that jealousy had something to do
in intensifying the prejudice against color.
At all events if the colored girl graduated
the white girls vowed they would not; and I
am happy to say they did not. Senegam-
bia held the fort, and the Anglo-Saxons
were routed. The school. board graduated
the colored girl with honors; she read a
paper on “The Education of Colored
Youth” to an audience which packed the
assembly hall, and which gave hera per-
fect ovation. It is reasonable to infer that
these young misses who refused to gradmte
with their colored classmate, must have
based their objections on social inferiority
on account of color. It was, I be'ieve,
Bishop Thompson, of England, who said
“There is no sex in intellect.” With
equal truth he might have said there is no
color in intellect. Moreover, the class must
have attended recitations together for a
period of several years, at least; one can .
hardly understand the exquisite sensitive-
ness which, after school companitmship of
even one term with the despised member.
could not on lure an hour or two‘s ap-
pearance upon the platform with her. But
the truth is, as all can see upon a moment’s
reflection, in the mere fact of such an ap-
pearance there is no more of social equality
or inferiority expressed than by rid
the same public conveyance. The question
of equality does not enter. The public
school is for the children of the people; the
graduating exercises an exponent of edu-
cational adv mcement, without reference to
social conditions. Yet, putting aside this
View of the question, and referring to the
ethics of the matter, I have observed that
truly well—bred people never find it nec-
essary to remind those below them in social
standing, of their position. Fancy a lady
“snubbing” an inferior to " make her
know her place!” That is snobbish vul-
garity, the certain sign of an inferior mind.

ing in

 


 

 

2

THE HOUSEHOLD.

 

 

True superiority never finds it necessary to
assert itself in any such fashion, and the
manner of self-assertion marks the dif—
ference between our real aristocracy of cul-
ture and breeding, and our “shoddy aris-
tocracy” of money, which was born yester-
day and is not yet accustomed to its own
magnificence, and very jealous of its
dignity. It is always observable that the
lower people are in the social scale, the
more rigidly they draw the lines of social
caste, and avoid mixing with those
“beneath them.” People fully assured of
their own respectability need never be
afraid to bow first, or speak first, or re-
cognize in any way those who differ from
them in social rank. “ Courtesy is one of
the most cosmopolitan of good qualities;
and politeness one of the seven cardinal
Virtues.”

"Our school girls,” with their sunny
faces. their happy hearts, their gay chatter,
all that we are pleased to call the inno-
cence and charm of youth, do not seem to
always justify our expectations of them.
We look for tenderness, gentleness, regard
for the feelings of others, but too often we
find minds filled with worldliness and pre-
judice—unreasoning prejudice rooted in that
meanest of all feelings, a disdain of others
because they differ from us in wealth, cul~
ture, education, station, all of which are ac—
cidents of birth, born of circumstances.
And how cruel, how downright mean and
hateful some of these fair-faced girls can
be to one whom they dislike! What sting-
ing sneers those rosy lips can voice, what
contempt flash from those eyes which
should know only kind glances! What
pettquuarrels raise jealousy and_envy and
malice in these young hearts, that should
never harbor those degrading passions!
Down in a little town in Pennsylvania, not
long since, a. young girl’s sensitive nature
was so wrought upon by the sneers and
jibes of her schoolmates, that through brood-
ing upon them she became insane, finally
dying in an asylum. She was a Jewess,
and her father kept a second-hand store,
and upon these two facts, neither of them
of her making or to her disadvantage, her
companions based the sneers which stung
her to madness.

Nothing, not the highest place nor the
lowest, excuses in us the want of that
courtesy and politeness toward others which
involves respect for their rights and re-
spectful, kindly personal treatment. The
higher our own rank, the more careful
should we be in our treatment of those who
have been less favored in the matter of ad-
vantages than we.
rogatives of our own place; it is “noblesse
oblige.” How much more admirable would
have been the action of these young ladies
of Vincennes, had they gracefully yielded
first place to this daughter of another race,
because she might be classed their inferior,
instead of tacitly acknowledging their
lack of good breeding by refusinga recogni-
tion which involved absolutely nothing of
equality, and thereby putting the cap upon

the climax of arrogance and snobbish in-
solence. _ BEATBIX.
*
Canvassers are abroad selling silver plated
to farmers, at something like twice
their actual value. Before you buy of them
take pains to ascertain the selling price of
such ware of the nearest local dealer.

It is one of the pre-i

ARE ’ WE SLAVES TO
FASHION?

 

A dear friend writes me she has just read
Beatrix’s “Street Studies,” and enjoyed
the descriptions very much; but she thinks
Beatrix very observing to notice a bonnet
of only last year’s style. She also adds:
“If I were possessed of wealth and in-
fluence, I would like to set an example and
bid defiance to public opinion.” I think
this friend would receive the same com-
pliment from Beatrix, should she chance to
see her with a old style hat on, that she
gave the lady with the last year’s bonnet.
Are we really such slaves to fashion as
women are generally accused of being?
That many are, is no doubt true, but I
hardly think it just to apply the title to
women in general terms. Many women
whom we always see neatly and stylishly
dressed are by no means slaves to every
fashionable caprice. When they need a new
dress or bonnet they select the best ma-
terials, and have them well and becoming-
ly made and trimmed, and do not select
either an old style or a novel one which
will soon go out, but a good prevailing
mode; and when they go out they do not
attract particular attention either as an
antiquated specimen, or an advertisement
for some fashionable dressmaker or mil-
liner. They are simply well dressed women,
and should one happen to notice them upon
the street that would be the verdict, but if
one were asked to describe the costume, it
would be hard to do so, for it called for no
special notice; the answer would be, “I
cannot; but it was neat and stylish.” I
think we should have some regard for
public opinion, and not carry our inde
pendence so far that we invite public
criticism, either in dress or manner.

I have never thought I was a slave to
fashion, but I do like to have new and
stylish clothes occasionally. I can enjoy a
sermon when I have a last year’s bonnet
on, but if I should wear it until I began to
think it shabby and the cause of remarks, I
would not, and all afraid I would commit
more sin than I would in getting a new one
every season. When I see awoman dressed
in clothes so oldfashioned that I notice
them (for I seldom notice any one’s dress in
particular) I generally lay the blame on the
husband’s shoulders, for I think it inherent
with women to love to look nice, and I be-
lieve they will try to if they have the means.
Some women would go really shabby rather
than ask their husbands for money, and I
think there are few men really so blind that
they cannot see when their wives look dif-
ferent from other women; I will aver, with-
out fear of contradiction, they were not so
blind before marriage.

A well dressed women (do not under-
stand me as meaning an extravagantly
dressed one) appears to better advantage, as
as she has more self-respect, and con-
sequently less self-consciousness, and
moves and talks with ease and naturalness
of manner, while one poorly dressed will
have an embarrassed manner quite foreign
to her real self. A woman is no less atrue,
womanly woman because she gives reason-
able attention to dress. She will dress

 

herself with care, and if the effect is satis-

 

factory she thinks no more about it, but
gives her attention, unreservedly to other
matters.

I am glad there are some HOUSEHOLD
members who do not religiously believe in
woman’s unlimited influence over man. So
much has been written about womanly
women that I wish some would tell us of
manly men. By the way, it would be in-
teresting if E. L. Nye would give us her
definition of a womanly woman. ‘Is this a
manly man? He has been in the habit of
taking‘ the FABMER, and his wife and
daughter were much interested in the
HOUSEHOLD, but this year when it was
twenty-five cents extra for the latter, he
told them they could not have it. What

should a womanly woman have done?

OLD SCHOOL TEACHER.
Tncuxsnn.

 

READY FOR COMPANY.

 

One writer tells us “ Custom is a violent
and treacherous schoolmistress. She by
little by little, slyly and unperceivedly slips
in the fact of her authority; but having by
their gentle and humble beginning, with the
benefit of time fixed and established it, she
then unmasks a furious and tyrannic counte-
nance, against which we have no more the
courage or the power to lift up our eyes.”
Another says: “Allis habit in mankind,
even virtue itself.”

I do not think there is another place
where visiting is as customary as in the
country. We have so little time for recre-
ation, our household duties so fill our minds
and time that it seems quite delightful to
have company and return the visit. There
are times When it is not as convenient to en-
tertain company, or we think it is not, and
for this reason: we have not a well-filled
pantry, frosted cake, tarts, fresh rusks, etc.
Dean Swift was invited to a party once and
was told of all the good things they were
going to have to eat. “‘ I don’t want 'a bill
of fare of your food,” he said, “ but a bill
of fare of your company.” There is alto-
gether too much elaborate baking, too much
form and ceremony about our aftern00n
visiting. I like to have Monday to myself.
and the early mornings; but aside from this
I am glad to see company anytime. I in-
tend to have food sufficient and good enough
so I am not inconvenienced at all if com-
pany comes.

I remember once we had the threshers.
We had the vegetables all cleaned for din-
ner and meat roasting; I had baked bread,
cakes and pies, and was just “taking a
breathing spell” when a carriage drove up
to the door; I saw a shawl flutter and knew
“ there was awoman in it.” Well, it proved
to be an uncle and aunt of my better half,
very old people whom I had never met be-
fore, but in less than ten minutes we were
acquainted. She had her knitting work,
and I got the big rocking chair and while
I worked we visited, and when we said
“ good-bye ” at night, both felt we had had
a splendid visit. Dear old auntie! I never
saw her again, she died shortly after, and I
have always been glad that I made the day
pleasant for them. It is not so much what
we provide for the stomach as the manner
which we show. We can meet people and

 

be perfectly polite and still not be sincere.

  

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THE HOUSEHOLD. 3

 

 

I have often been present when the lady of
the house would look out and see someone
coming, and say “ Dear me, what under the
sun possessed her to come here to—day, I’d
rather see anybody else;” but when she came
to the door meet her in a cordial manner and
tell her she was just wishing she would
come. This will pass for a white lie, I sup-
pose, but it shows a very shallow nature and
not much character. I; heard a lady tell
once about having several ladies come visit-
ing when she was cleaning pantry; she felt
her heart sink at first but her good sound
common sense did not fail her. She gave
them the shears and some papers, and while
they papered the shelves she replaced the
dishes and it was all done by dinner time,
then they had a long pleasant afternoon
visit. How much better than to send them
home with “it is not convenient.” Itis the
cheery welcome, the cordial manner; it
springs from the heart, there IS nothing as-
sumed about it, it has the ring of the true-
metal. I can tell it every time. In the
country we cannot have much style, and I
would not give a fig for it anyway. We are
simple in our manners of living and beha-
vior, so we need not try to assume what
we are not; it only makes us appear ridicu-
lous and ill at ease. I would not discard the
old fashioned afternoon visit, and the work
too, knitting or whatever else is handy to
take along. I have had company bring car~
pet—rags along to sew; they were nicely cut
and made in a neat bundle and did not litter
a bit.

Such visits help turn our thoughts
into a new channel; we catch new
ideas; once enter into the details of
housekeeping, and their name is legion,
there are none who cannot learn something;
no one who knows anything but can impart
it to others. We all have our hopes and
fears, sorrows, troubles, afflictions, aspira-
tions. Many a burden is rolled off our
shoulders by sympathy. There are times in
everybody’s life when they have been kept at
home for some reason or another and a visit
from a neighbor is as welcome as “flowers
in May.” The past winter I did no visiting
whatever,.and I became a little low Spirited;
the baby worried and the house began to be
a trifle lonesome, so one bright afternoon I
determined on a visit. When we came in
sight of the house where we were going my
heart sank a little for fear it might not be
convenient “or something,” but my fears
were groundless and my welcome was so
cordial, my visit was made so pleasant! My
friend had been busy all the forenoon, too,
washing windows; I enjoyed the supper, it
tasted just delicious, fresh biscuits and cake
andcanned raspberries, and that night when
baby was asleep in her crib and I had laid
my head on my pillow I voted visiting a de-
lightful change.

We can cultivate the habit of living with-
out society, of isolating ourselves from man-
kind,.but in so doing we destroy the better
part of our nature. There is no person but
has social qualities and they are better culti-
vated than smothered. We are better men
and women for living in delightful compan-
ionship with our friends and neighbors. We
can always be ready for company even if we
have no great variety of food to set before
them, and when we meet them at the door

 

and say “ I am glad to see you,” let it be
sincere and truthful. Every good deed, every
good act, springs Spontaneously from the
heart; if we cultivate the heart our whole
nature will be better, every good quality will
show itself, we can-give our friends a profit-
able visit; though the tea be plain it is better
far than to allow them to sit alone while we
flit from pantry to cellar making cake, etc_
If one is going to have a “ swell tea” it is
all well enough to have a bustle and fuss
about getting ready, but for an impromptu
visit what is good enough for the family is
good enough for the company without any
excuses. You may all come and see me
without sending word, and bring along your
work and the baby. EV’ANGALIXE.
BATTLE CREEK.

 

MY WINDOW-CURTAIN.

 

I have been much amused and interested
this sunnner in watching the growth
of a vine which curtains my window.
It is not an aristocratic clematis, nor even
a middle-class honeysuckle or trumpet vine,
but aplebeian plant, its only attempt at
style being its lengthy Latin name of
Echinocystis lobar-ta, under which it strug-
gles botanically, while it is commonly but
erroneously called Wild Cucumber. It is
not a. Cucumis at all, though classed in
same order, Oucurbz’taceaa. Like a good
many other things unhonored because of
their unfashionable lineage, it is deserving
of attention, being graceful in habit; rapid
in growth, rising in the world with nearly
the celerity of the far-famed gourd of the
prophet, as it was quite to the top of a.
second-story window before the dog-days set
in; and free from the annoying aphides and
kindred pests which infest other climbers.
It is a perenniel, starting betimes in the
spring, and in this instance removed “body
and bones” by my' fastidious landlord as
soon as the foliage turns brown in autumn.
The flowers are greenish-white, in racemes
often six inches in length, very numerous,
and monoecious, staminate and pistillate
bloom being found on the same stalk, the
fertile ones invariably at the base. The fruit
is covered with spines, is in shape some-
what like a small but apoplectic cucumber,
inflated, four-seeded, and from it the plant
derives the botanic name, through Greek
words signify sea-urchin and bladder.

In early June the vine had reached the
t0p of the first floor -windows, and was
anfbitiously stretching out its long, three-
parted tendrils in search of support for a
higher flight. A cord was let down from
the window above, and “up this Romeo’s
ladder” it boldly clambered. Absent for a
day, on my return theround, head-like point
of the most vigorous shoot was pe ring in
at my window, supporting itself by a ten-
dril on either hand, and so reminding me
of an inquisitive, mischievous child, reach-
ing up on tiptoe to peep into a strange
room, and holding on “for all it was worth”
till its investigation was concluded, that I
laughed outright. Apparently satisfied
with its survey, my visitor set out to see
how quickly it could travel to the top,
thrusting its tendrils through the meshes of
the mosquito bars, and holding on for dear
life. To watch these twining tendrils soon

 

became a constant pleasure. How did all
those kinks get there! At the axil of every
leaf was a flower stalk, and with ita tendril
which, almost humanly, turned to the net to
attach itself, thrusting a tiny green point
through and then rapidly making three or
four twists for greater security. Often
there would be three or four spirals through
a single mesh, and one in the next, remind-
ing one of a clasping hand, with outstretch—
ed thumb. Sometimes the point of the
tendril made straight for its support; some-
times it indulged in a long series of curves
before attaching itself, like an adventurous
person bound to have a good time before
settling down to steady habits. And al-
ways there was the mystery: The flower
racemes owed allegiance to the sun and al-
ways sought the light. From the same
node sprang leaf and flower-stalk and ten-
dril, why should the latter turn from what
the others loved, and revel in shade and any
quantity of eccentric convolutions, like the
one giddy member of a sober-minded family?
\Vhy did the riotous sap out such pranks in
the tendrils, while in the sister growth it
flowed decorously to modest, inconspicuous
bloom? And then, the supporting stem was
regularly grooved, like the fiutings of a
Corinthian pillar, while the leaf stems and
tendrils were smooth as polished marble,
though showing, in alternate lines of light
and darker green, the same fru-rowings.
When we begin to study the ways of even
the commonest plants we soon belong to that
class of humanity who “want to know, you
know,” and can ask questions that would
puzzle a philosopher.

As soon as my vine had conquered the
netting, it essayed to clamber over the
window-cap. Here was nothing to which it
could cling, and after helplessly stretching
in every direction, it gave up the attempt
and fell back upon itself, evidently relying
upon what it had already done to hold itself
up, and went on flowering aimlessly. Just
exactly like poor humanlty, I thought. It
climbs up and up, just as long as the way
is clear and easy, but when obstacles are to
be overcome, how often we give up, like the
vine, discouraged, and satisfied with what
we have achieved. Sometimes, as happened
to our vine, the weight of our inactivity be‘
comes so great that it tears down what we
have gained, and we fall prostrate, never to
rise again. With all the wealth of flowers
which shed their pale corollas in such pro-
fusion, but one fruit represents the entire
raceme. So many people in this world, too,
live and die, and we fail to discover the
purpose of their being. Yet some infini-
tesimal grain of pollen, falling from some
one of the many flowers, produced the fruit;
so in our lives some little deed of ours, ap-

parently of slight importance, may bear the

fruit we never see, never know. These
twining, parted tendrils are the hands we
hold out to other men and women for help.
We help ourselves up, we take others with
us, as the vine’s first ambitious shoot held
up its weaker brethren; we stifle them,
sometimes, because we cling'so selfishly, as
the Echinocystz's smothered the Morning
Glory vine that began the race with it. The
harvest was a pale blue bellor two, dwarfed
and fragile. How serious a thought it
should be to us if we through our own

 


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4 .T'HE HOUSEHOLD.

 

insistence, our selfish dependence, our un-
reasonable demands, are robbing other lives
of their rightful opportunities: and holding
effectually in check the aspirations, the en-
deavors, perhaps the full development, of

those whom, after all, we love.
BEATRIX.

——_....—
BLEACHING STRAW HATS.

Several months ago a lady asked how to
bleach a straw hat. N 0 one seemed to know
how to do it, nor did the Editor's researches
result in anything beyond the indefinite in'
formation that it was “done with sulphur.”
The Scientific American in a recent issue
gave the following instructions:

“ Obtain a deep box, air-tight if possible,
place at the bottom a stone; on the stone a
flat piece of iron red~hot, or a pan of char-
coal. on which scatter powdered brimstone;
there should be hooks in the box on which to
hang the hats; close the lid and let the hats
remain all night. Another recipe for bleach-
ing straw is to soak the goods in caustic so-
da and afterward to use on them chloride of
lime or javelle water. The excess of chlorine
should be removed by hyposulphite of soda,
called anti-chlor. In the first method the
hat should be moistened, as a dry fabric will
not bleach.”

We have several times seen the advice
given to color old straw hats at home by
using liquid shoe polish on them. This may
possibly result satisfactorily in some in-
stances with certain qualities of straw; but
in the only cases in which the Editor
has known the attempt to be made, it has
been a dismal failure. A friend had a very
pretty fancy straw hat which she attempted
to color in this fashion, the outcome being a
very “streaky” hat, a woman ornamented
with shoe polish “from the crown of her
head to the soul of her foot,’_’ and a great
loss of temper. The straw absolutely re-
fused to take up the polish, which settled in
the interstices of the braid. The result was
thought too unique for every-day wear, and
was finally cremated.

CANNING FEARS AND
OTHER FRUITS.

Mrs. N. J. Strong, of Adrian, read the fol-
lowing paper upon the above subject before
the Lenawee County Horticultural Society
at the August meeting, 4th inst:

0f the varieties I have canned, I prefer
Bartlett, Seckel and Flemish Beauty.
They should be very nearly if not quite ripe
enough for eating. If cooked in a syrup of
granulated sugar and water until a broom
straw will pierce the halves, they can, with
care, be placed in the cans looking white
and handsome enough to show at the fair,
but longer cooking improves the flavor,
and some ladies that 1 know continue the
process 1mtil the sauce turns pink, as it
sometime will. Seckels being small, may be
canned without paring. I study in canning
all kinds of fruit to use the least possible
amount of time, heat and strength. I think
I accomplish this result by cooking enough
for one or two cans at a time in a granite
kettle, over gasoline or a little fire in the
wood stove. Since I learned to be very par-
ticular to have my cans, when emptied,
washed in clean water, scalded and dried on
the stone shelf, or baked in the oven, and
the cover and rubber properly replaced,
while the can is hot, (never put the rubber

 

in the can), I find when the hot, busy can—
ning days come I only need to rinse the can
once ill water, and perhaps even that is un—
necessary. If the can cover has become bent,
a skillful use of a wrench, after it is on the
can, will smooth out the edge and save the
fruit. I never trust a can until I can reverse
it without leaking. If new cans must be
bought, buy the Mason cans. Tin cans cost
less, but are more trouble to seal and open,
and if the tin chances to be of poor quality
there is danger of poison, especially with
sour fruit. 9‘1 hope this society will condemn
emphatically all devices for preserving fruit
without cooking or sealing. 1 havp watched
with much hope and interest all methods—
sulphur, smoke, ozone, salicylic acid, and
German wood. I am fully persuaded that
none of them are of practical value to the or-
dinary housewife, and I mention the matter
here now because I read in some paper not
long ago that agents were selling the right to
use the German wood in some parts of this
State. The assurance that we can use the
empty stone jars we have on our shelves
tempts us to try experiments that prove all
too costly in the loss of time, fruit and
money. I am sure that no such process
would be a success with old jars that have
been used for pickles, lard, buttermilk and
the hundred and one purposes that such
ware is used for; and if new must be bought,
why not buy reliable self-sealing glass cans?
Keep fruit in the dark. ‘

HOUSEHOLD HINTS.

KEEP the sinks and drains sweet and
clean by the free use of copperas water at
least once a week. Allow a pound of cop-
perss to each gallon of boiling water.

SLIP a paper bag over the hand in which
you hold the blacking brush when you pol-
ish up the stove. It is better than acmitten,
as the black dust cannot penetrate it and
the hands do not get grimy.

ONIONS and other strong flavored vege-
tables are apt to leave bad taste and odor in
the dish in which they are cooked. When
you clean the kettles, pans, etc., use half a
teaspoonful of soda in a little hot water,
then wash well with hot soapsuds.

THE general rule for canning fruit is one—
third of a pound of sugar to a pound of fruit.
Pieplant requires a half-pound. Always use
a porcelain-lined kettle, or other earthen
ware dish to cook fruit for canning, and use
a wooden or silver Spoon, never tin or. iron.

AN exchange says: “A carpet can be
mended by cutting a piece like the carpet, at
little larger than the hole. Put paste around
the edge of the patch, then slip itunder the
carpet and rub it well with a warm iron
until dry. If the figure is matched it makes
a very neat job as well as a quick one.”
We have heard of rag carpets being mended
bya patch set over the worn spot, and its
edges, after being covered with flour-and-
water paste, ironed down smooth.

MOST fruit stains can be removed from
table linen by laying the stained portions
over a bowl and pouring on boiling water
until they disappear. Never rub soap on a

 

stain, as it sets it. Ink, when fresh, can be
taken out with milk and water; and ma-
chine oil is readily removed by rubbing a bit
of lard on the spot and washing in warm
suds. For iron-rust, spread the article in
the sun, cover the spot with salt, then
squeeze on lemon juice enough to wet it. In

.bright sunshine the stain will disappear in
'a few hours. '-

Mosr vegetables are pickled by being put
into strong salt and water, freshened by
soaking, and then put into vinegar. But
the soaking fills the tissues with water,
which so dilutes the vinegar when the
pickles are put into it that they are not
sour enough and often fail to keep. There-
fore, unless your vinegar is quite strong, it
is a good plan to change it, in a few days
after putting in the pickles, for a pickle that
is not “ sharp” has no excuse for existence.

IN reference to the “cotton batting”
canning process, Mrs. Kedzie, of the Kansas
Agricultural College, thus relates the result
of experiments under her supervision: “In
the college kitchen laboratory, experiments
were tried with five kinds of fruit, includ-
ing tomatoes, and the results were per-
fectly satisfactory in every case, not even a
particle of mold forming in the can. In
most cases the cotton was simply tied ever
the canful of hot fruit; in some cases there
was a piece of white paper put on first, to
prevent the cotton from becoming juice-
soaked. This seems to be the preferable
way. The cotton is taken just as it comes
from the roll, the thickness being about as
it unwinds, and it is tied down with strong

twine. ’ ’
————-‘.‘——_—

Contributed Recipes.

r Swnnr TOMATO Fromm—Pare and slice the
tomatoes, take half the weight in sugar and
to seven pounds of fruit add one ounce of
cloves and one of cinnamon, or cinnamon and
mace, mixed. Boil with one quart of vinegar
for an hour, and seal. The spices are to be
tied in muslin bags. This is nice as a relish
with cold meats.

PICKLED GREEN Tomarons.—-Sli~ce a peek
of large green tomatoes. Pour on vinegar
enough to cover them. To each quart of
vinegar allow one ounce each of the following
spices, using them whole: Pepper, cloves,
allspice, two ounces white mustard seed, and
two onions chopped fine. Boil all together
one minute and set away to cool. In a week
it will be ready for use.

TOMATO (Larson—Some of the ladies
of the HOUSEHOLD asked for a cat-
sup recipe. I send one that we have
used a good many years. Take perfectly ripe
tomatoes, one-half bushel; wash them clean
and break in pieces; then put over the fire
and let them come to a boil, and remove from
the fire; when they are sufficiently cool to al-
low your hands in them, rub through a wire
sieve; and to what goes through add two tea-
cupfuls of salt; allspice and cloves, of each,
ground, one teacupful; one quart best vine-
gar. Put on the fire again and cook one hour,
stirring with great care to avoid burning.
Bottle for use. If too thick when used put in
a little vinegar. If they are very juicy they
may need boiling over an hour. It never
moulds or sours. It can be kept with or with-
out sealing. . r. )1. e.

FAIRFIELD.