.
.1. New ', . -.

\ ;
.
.

  

 

 

1f}; .. i 23mm, FEBRUARY 21., 1987.

 

THE HOUSEHOLD-"Supplement.

 

’
LILLY DALE.

. ‘I‘
. __ ‘

 

,- V. 118113 . , -
«. ~ 1 - shone soft o er hill and vale, < _ 1. or;
'5 - , When friends mute with grief stood around the
1 . death-bed . . , , . . ,,
, , Of my poor, lost Lilly Dale. . 1 9’
. , _ , , _ ,. .
if.“ ' I 1 .. ‘ 6110311111.}

0 Lilly. sweet Lilly, dear Lilly Dale, -
Now the wild rose blossoms 0 er her little green

. grave _
’Jeath the trees in the flowery vale. , _ _

 

- Her cheeks, that once glow d with the rose tint
of health '

\By the hand of disease had turn d pale,

And the death-damp was on the pure white brow
Of my poor, lost Lilly Dale.

1 . : exam—0 Line-“-

-, ‘ ‘.‘ Lgo,“ she said, “ to the land of rest,
. ‘ - - ' ~And ere my strength shall fail, , - 7

' 1;" ’ -— j ' I must tell you where, near my own loved home,
W ‘ » You must lay poor Lilly Dale;

'4' ., - ' , Cnoans.-—O Lilly, &c. . .f
x “ ’Neath the chestnut tree, where the wild flow-
. _ ers grow, -
' , ~ ~ And the stream ripples forth thrOugh the vale,

' - ,Where the birds shall warble their songs in
, . spring,
2 There lay poor Lilly Dale. ”

CnoaUs.—O Lilly, dzc.
. .
I ,EARLY SPRING FASHIONS.

 

Thewoodchuck made no calls on Candle?
mas Day, hence the weather prophets fow-
tell an early spring. How the ground-hog
gets so much the start of the weather bureau
in the prediction business none of us can
tell; we only know he comes considerably
cheaper. And already satteens and ginghams

- and diaphanous tissues impart aspring-like
appearance to the merchant’s windows,
quite out of harmony with the temperature
outside, dressmakers are being engaged
weeks ahead, and every fashion plate is
being eagerlystudied by. those .who take
great thought of “ wherewithal they shall be
clothed.” Strange, how absorbing this
passion for dress. becomespto the feminine
soul! I I know a lady here, Whose toilette
. _ seems a matter as sacred as religion. She
' - enters her room to array herself for a- din-
' ' her party or reception with a subdued
manner, as-if she were full of the awful
dignity of the ceremony; as if it were some
sacramental duty to be performed in a
gravely serious mood. Every detail has
, been studied beforehand, handkerchief and
7 fan, jewels and lace, must correspond with
the fitness of art, to a perfection of ensemble
' which makes hera marvelously well-dressed
. woman; but justifies the query of theeliarity

    
  
  
  
  
 

  

.‘,

.Twas a calm, still night, and the moon s pale ,

‘ . .1ater.

material. _

 

" .i chool pupil who was being.- fiilght the

 

alphabet, whether it was worth going
through so much to get so little.

’ The early impo1tations of goods are prin-
cipally cotton; these ladies make 11p for
house dresses, early in the season, that they
may have the benefit of later styles and

mere leisure for the elaborate costumes of

silk and wool which will demand attention
Satteens, ginghams, percales and
seersucker cloth are already piled in pro-
fusion upon the counters. Primrose yellow
is one of the most fashionable colors; “it is
English, you know,” being a great favorite

(with the English Primrose League. , It is

combined with other colors, generally in
stripes, with brown,,blue, pink and helio-
trope. Blue seems to rank next, the. dark
shades being preferred, probably for their
fast color. Ginghams' are striped with white,
and plaids and‘plain goods will be used in
combination, the plaid for.» the skirts; and
the trimming will be embroidery, 01' collar
and cuffs of velvet; the plaids are not as
large and “pronounced” as formerly, and
are all the prettier for it. Satteens are
shown in two qualities, the French at 35
cents, the American at fifteen cents. Of
the two, the French goods is greatly to be
preferred, as it is much finer, softer, and

of better wearing quality. The black. is «

especially desirable for those in mourning,
who find it so difficult to get a cotton weave
that will hold its color. These satteens

make very desirable dresses, and there is-

hardly a shade of any color- -Wich cannot
be secu1ed.Tl1e ground work is speckled
with minute dots of color, or in irregular
splashes and dashes of color on a neutral
ground; others have small geometrical fig-
ures on white or dark surfaces.

The new styles of making such dresses
are charmingly simple 1n their st1a11rht lines
and full, flowing draperies. There is a gored
foundation skirt, which may be of silesia o1
cheaper goods than the dress material; this
skirt is 2% or 21/ yards wide, according to
the height of the person, is faceda quarter of
a yard deep with the goods. and finished
with a d1ess braid, or bias binding of the
On this ski1t' 1s hung a straight
fiounce,‘ with a 'wide hem, which is deep
enough to cover two-thirds of the length of
the skirt; this flounce is very slightly gather—
ed in frontand on the 'sides, and quite full
behind. The drapery is long and full,
caught up on both hips, or one, as p1efe1 red
and made bonfiant in the back by tapes
that tie or buttons and loops. The belted
waist, and the unlined basque, with revers,
will: be the corsages used; and young ladies
will wear velvet bretelles with straps across
the front, over gathered vests of white mull.

 

 

A prettier waist, however, has a. square
yoke and pointed girdle. of velvet, with the
satteen laid on side pleats between. Satteen

and batiste dresses are most serviceably

trimmed with embroidery; the cheap laces
have apparently had their day. The em-
broidery' 13 white 01 colored, to suit the can
it is to be used upon; delicate shades are
trimmed with white. 011 more elaborate-
dresses, the embroidery is used as ruffles to .
form the front of the skirtrand the back
drapery is bordered by an embroidered edge
stitched 111 and turned back upon the goods
[this is a new idea]. Embroidery is used
for a panel 011 the side; sometimes each side
has a panel, with a deep apron drapery be.
tween them. Those who can afford to have
cotton dresses cost from ten to fifteen dol-
lars can have entire fronts of the wide all
ove1 embroidery, which comes expressly
fo1 the purpose, but we question the economy
of putting so much money into a cotton
dress, and greatly prefer the plain fashions
of making 11p, which dispense with all trim-

m..1g but the velvet accessories, which are
made removable so the dress can be washed.
But a French satteen dress. with care, ought '
to last a season as an afternoon “fix-up,”
without seeing soap and water.

I “rould say to the girls, do not buy crude ~
white dresses for summer wear. / You don’t
know how much more becoming and har-
monious the ecru and creamy shades are
toeven a ‘ rose- -leaf” complexion. They
soften the tints of check and throat, and
even brunettes, who look “horrid” in deadi
white, can wear these soft yellowish shades ,
with advantage. If you do not believe I- _
am 1',ight just try it.

I 11ea1ly forgot to say that a very pretty ~
satteen, just made 11p, has for a collar a-
side pleating ot' the goods, doubled, two.
inches deep, stiffened with an interlining
of thin canvas, sewed 011 the dress 1n place
of a collar, and the joining concealed by a
jet necklace with a pendant in front.
Some cream- -white lace was pleated with it,
and f1on1 this dainty garniture, the round,»
slende1 throat- of the wearer rose like a .
flower bud 110111 its calyx.

Some of our huge dry-goods houses com— .
plain their €811) OI‘dt‘iS from the east have
been delayed in transit by the strike of
freight handle1s. Be that as it may, at-
least we have not Very many new spring
wool goods as yet. Some novelties in
suitings a1e shown, having stripes of
knotted threads on a smooth surface, and'
others having zigzag grounds strewn with
ba‘Js of color. But I never feel like recom‘
mending “novelties” to those to Whom.
economy is needful, for after one season.

  

 
  


   
  
   
   
   
  
     
 
    
  
      
  
   
   
 
 
   
  
 
     
  
  
  
 
 
   
  
  
  
  

”Va-4."... ._ , g.

ii

’ A... 1-; :a’ywm ,
1 .— . ~u.

 

t::‘%‘, 3:; in”.

-..‘.1».v1_x<,rt : :3,

 

 

. .5. .__.. "n, arm-v4.29: l'.‘.‘;’ii‘.':..

'. dresses are very plain, and depend upon

’ sleeves are tight, finished by a narrow velvet

. of plaid'goods, cut bias.

~ described above, and a square apron which

‘ traversing the stripes in a long diagonal.’

. woolen, There are narrow cuffs of the stripe

     

THE HOUSEHOLD '.

 

they generally go “out,” and then look so
antiquated. If you are .so overcome by the
charm as to choose one for a suit, put it
on and get all the wear you can out of it
while it, is in fashion. because next year you
will probably “ hate the old thing.”

The new models for wool goods, like
those in cheaper materials, are very simple,
apparently, .though, like piano-playing,
“it ain’t so easy as it looks” to get them
tohang just right, not too much fullness
in the drapery, and every loop in exactly
the right place. The placing of the steels
in the back of the skirt is in itself a chef d’
wuore, to get them in exactly the proper
place, and not too large. Some, managed
by unskillfnl. dressmakers, look perfectly
ridiculous, especially if the back drapery‘
chances tr) be.too scant. Pleatlng and ruf-

.‘ flee seem entirely banished; the most stylish

thefit, the material, and quality of the
trimming for their style.

. ‘A pretty striped wool euit, designed for
spring wear, has a foundation skirt made
exactly as described for satteen dresses,
with the flounce simply hemmed. Over
this is along full front drapery, arranged
high and full on the right hip, and caught
up less full, but not less high, on the left,
so the drapery is uneven, being drawn
away to disclose the lower skirt at the
right side; this drapery is long enough to
come nearly to the bottom of the skirt.
[All front draperies are drawn far back. so
as to make the back of the skirt nanow,
and give a narrow, slender effect] The
waist is a jacket basque, such as were worn‘
last summer, 'with a waistcoat of plain silk
which is set in atthe under arm seams,
and closes with tiny buttons. On each
side of the waistcoat are narrow velvet
revers, which narrow from the shoulder to
the waist line, where two very large buttons
are set, one at the waist line, , the other
nearer the bottom of the basque. The

cuff. Collars are still “chokers;” some
woman :with a phenomenally long neck
evidently inauguerated this whim, to the
despair of the short-necked sisterhood.

Another recent ,model has a plain front
Over this is ar-
ranged a front drapery which is long on
the left and caught up on the right, show-
ing the plaid to the waist, making a long,
“one-sided point; the back is laid in straight
full pleats. The basque has a wide vest
and cuffs of the bias plaid. A variation on
these styles has the straight back width

seems‘to form the front; this drapery is of
figured goods, and is drawn in folds high
across the front. Jacket basque, differing
' from that already described by having the
fronts meet at the collar and slope away
over the .waistcoat. Pieces of the stripe
are set on to come straight down the basque
from the shoulder seam to the bottom; and
are .cut off with the slope of the fronts,

Ihopel am understood, as this is a very
pretty fashion, as applicable to plaid goods
use .stripes;. quite new, and one which
éénld be used on cotton goods asde as

FARMERS’ CLUBS AS. EDUCATORS.

 

Read at the Farmers Institute at Tecumseh,
Feb. 11th, by Mrs. F. C. Recto ton]
Not a

- We live in an age of progress.
slow, sleepy age, but one Wide awake, full
of steam and electricity, and if we keep
pace, we cannot slumber or sit in idleness,
but must be awake, with eyes, ears, hands
and intellect on the alert: ‘ Every class-of
workmen 111 the world’s great workshop has
its organizations for protection or advance-
ment in knowledge in their respective de-
partments. There are trades union's, al-
liances, conclaves,‘ encampments, conven-
tions and meetings withOut number” in-
cluding in their membership citizens of
every class. The president 'Of this proud
republic, with his cabinet or embassadors,
from every enlightened. nation on," the
globe. have,their meetings; Congress and
the State legislatures have'long sessions
for the benefit of the people at large; law-
yers, doctors; ministers, photographers and
dairymen havetheir meetings; the' 4. under-
takers have their conventions-to devise new

dead; and so on'down to the, newsboys and
bootblacks, and if I mistake notI read of a
ragpickers’~ convention;lthere' are also the
anarchists’ and 'socialist's’ open .and secret
meetings. These are all instructors for
either good or evil. If all these different
professions or trades have their respective
organizations, why not the farmers? Farm-
ers may belong to some of these organiza—
tions, but as a rule they do not. The great
need of some organization to, promct and
advance farmers in acorresponding ratio'to
the other professions, led to the organiza-
tion of the grange. The grange has grown

until it is an acknowledgedpowen. The r

meetings are often held at a place where it
is not convenient for many terms to at-
tend, and, still feeling- the comparative
isolation of their lives and the need of more
sociability and stimulus to intellectual ex-
ertion, they began to organize farmers’
clubs; which are proving to be good educa.
tors, as they educate socially, morally and
intellectually. '

A few years ago the farmeis Were cori-
tented to sit down evenings with their
papers, and read 'until they were sleepy,
then go to .bed; perhaps the monotony
might be relieved by a visit to aneighbor’ s,
or occasionally an evening down .town at
an entertainment, lecture or political meet-
ing, but there was nothing special to call
for a trial of their intellectual powers.

A farmers’ club is started in a
neighborhood; perhaps with. few mem-
bers at first; a programme is arranged,
and eve1y one is. expected to do his
or her part faithfully and to the best of their
ability. The first eiforts may not be very,
praiseworthy, but once aroused the progress
is steadily forward, and the club proves
like agood teacher in our schools. A good
teacher will at perform the pupils’ work,
but point to ward and only give hints,
which stimulate to farther and higher re-
search, until they are eager to unlock, with
their own energies the mysteries lying be-
yond.

Many of our farmers thought they had
completed their education, but when asked

 

or plaid,'and a'high collar Bartram.

 

to give this ideas, experiments, of conclu-

methods ‘of preserving and burying the

sions in regard to farming or other subjects

brought to their notice, they were astonish-
ed to find they could not. They understood
them themselves and supposed that was alL
that was necessary, but when asked to give
them to others, “when a meeting was in.
order, ”L theyl'were confused and embarrass~
ed; but this as well as other things assigned

knowledge of the same reduced to order.

The clubs are educators, as they teach the
members to reduce their knowledge to order
and present their ideas’ in a plain, practical
manner. In so doing they find they are
only half way up the ladder. and must still
climb if they wish to reach the top; but once
started they do not purpose to descend, but
to keep advancing. 1

‘ A short time ago, when the silver hairs
began to he sprinkled upon the head of our
worthypresidena'he thought he was grow-
ing old and better sit. contented by his fire-
side, as theweather was too cold or the
roads too rough or too muddy to go
out; :but, like many others, he found
the club . meetings interesting and
instructive as well as very social.

"the roads unfavorable,- and he replies: “No;
I want to \go ‘and- hear that question dis-
cussed;?’_ or, _“ I want to hear Mr. C.’s ideas

Thus it is with many: give them
questions to think about and expect them
to give their thoughts to others,- they give
their attention to the matter. and are not

understandingly, and they are anxious to
hear and profit by. the experience of others.
The State established and maintained in-
stitutions of learning for the general diifu'
sion of knowledge, also the University for

it felt the need~ of instruction‘in agri ulture',
and the result was the establishment f the
Agricultural

and'combine theory with practice. In ad-
dition to‘the instruCtion given at the Col-
lege, the'Board of Agriculture inaugurates a

disseminate experimental knowledge among
the people.
money (how much' I do not know) to meet
the expenses of the institutes, and much
good is done and interest aroused. The
State of Wisconsin provides $5, 000 and holds
52 institutes, yearly. The board provides
lecturers for the institutes, but for the greater
part of the material to make them interest-
ing they depend upon local talent. Where
there are granges or farmers’ clubs formed
and in working-order the institute is much
easier sustained, as the members are edu-
cated t6 such work and are readier to re-
spond. ' ‘ ‘ ' ' "

Six years ago last November the Farmers’
Social Club was formed, and it has steade
progressed. I say progressed, and I think
the members will hear me out in my assert
tion, for I am sure they all knoyv it has been

educator: it has led to habits of thought.

their leng ago school-days. written .a paper

 

or essay, and they looked aghast when ap-

 

.2 _

them they are expected to do; and they '
soon find the science of any thing is K

Now, ask him if the night is too cold or . '

as I am not fully satisfied with my own ¢0n- ‘
‘ clusions.”

satisfied until they can express themselves .

special instruction in the professions; then.

College and ' Experimental .1
Farm. Farmers’ sons can now be educated

series of institutes to be held each winter to ~

"The State provides a sum of'

a benefit. In one item it has been a great \

Many men and women had never, or since,

   

 

  
   
   
   
      
     
   
   
     
   
    
    
   
     
 
      
   
   
   
     
   
 
      
       
     
     
     
    
    
      
      
     
 

 

      
  

 

   
      
 

 

     
  

 

   

 

     

 

 
 

 

 
 
  

 

    

 

       

 

       
     
     
   
     
      
    
       
    
      
 

 
 

   
  

 

  


 

 

 

 

 

   

‘ H E: _H' 013% EH 0 L D.

  

'3

 

 

  

pointed by the corhuiittiae to do so: but we
' have no such words as “I can’t” in 6hr
. ‘ . articles of organization, and they fi6’d they

_-,< . p '. have intellects. that only need arousing. to

" = . that special work. The young people' are

taught to think of Subjects that hitherto
7 they had' no interest in, and they are sur-
V ,prisedto find the questions are interesting
. . and they can express their ideas intelli-
j . A . gently. As the outgrowth Of this organizae’
' ‘ - tion, other‘ clubs have been formed, until
._ there are now four clubs in the immediate
7 ,j‘ , vicinity of Tecumseh. ' - '

* Let .the good work go on, until every
farmer is a member of a club; but I would
~ g - .caution against forming them too close to-

gether, as it will become like a small village
with too many churches. One good, strong,
flourishing church is better and will- do
more good than a number of weakly ones,
where they can only pay their ministers
starvation _wages; and so it is 'with‘ the"
clubs. A few, well organized, and aiming
in numbers, where there are enough so that
' it is not necessaryto call upon any one to
perform a part too often, will prove more
efficient and exist longer than many small

01108. ,, a " . 1‘
W

HoW' MUCH SHALL -w1r.- diva?

 

 

Pearl Diamond’s article on Uncongenial
. Pursuits' 1n 9. late HOUSEHOLD, leads up to
aquestion I have often pondered, viz., how
much of their own ease and comfort, how
much of toil and‘economy, should parents
. sacrifice for the sake‘ of giving their
children “a start in life?” The remark
quoted,’ “l’ve given all my “children an
education, and not one of them knows
enough totake care of himself,” is repeated
only too often within the knowledge of us
all. We semetimes see children whose
parents have strained every nerve to give
them educational advantages, return from
school and colleges plus a diploma ~but
minus ambition, unless it be to 'avoid labor
by feeding on the paternal bounty, sneering
at the old~fashioned ways iof‘the hoine they‘
5 still cling to; and, priding themselves on»
g 5 their superior culture and wisdom,_ with no
disposition to test its qualities in any busi-
ness. And, conversely, we find the sons
and daughters of parents whose means did
. not permit them to give one-tenth. the -341.
. vantages these: others have received, who
make their way through the curriculum of
' our colleges only to step from their Alma.
Mater into positions of trust and responsi-
bility and work their way to the .top. " ,Or,
if circumstances are against them, ' they can
nturn their hands—and brains—to some
work which is self-supporting, till oppor
=tunity permits them to enter the occupation
' for which they have fitted themselves. _ We
4, ., l. v :naturaliy ask, “Why the difference?”
.~- It is amatter of common comment that
‘ the sons of rich men seldom dietinguish
themselves, unless by the'prodigality with
‘ . which they disburse the wealth their fathers
' amassed. . Not that they are by nature less
gifted, but simply because life has been so
-, full of pleasure, of luxury, of possession
a. without exertion, that there has been noth-
ing to develop latent possibilities, nothing
‘ to make them even attempt to lift them-
- selves above mediocrity, they simply expect

   
 
  
  

      
   
   
  
    
      
    
   
    

, ’V '*"“.‘«"‘,r'- I" ..

    
  
  
   
   
  
  
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_our country’s history, have been literally
“self-made men,” who struggled with

'young men who have wealth and leisure.

from poverty, not comparative, but abso-

I which would be left?

‘ “wake and find. himself famous.”

many among the great Imen‘who have made

adversity till they conquered? Their early
lives are the records of privation, poverty,
and persistent purpose working outpulti-
mate success. And the discipline and self-.
reliance, the power of concentration, the
determination to win, above all their sturdy
integrity and purity of life, enabled them
to; overcome all obstacles. They had no
money to waste in dissipation, no time to
spend in frivolity; they were spared the
many temptations which center about the

How many'of. Michigan’s millionaires rose

lute, With few educational advantages and
no business training, except what they won
by actual experience? And how many have
sonswho, in event of their death, are com-
petth to manage the vast property interests

I believe there is quite as much danger,
so far as want of appreciation of privilege
is‘concerned, in making the way too easy?
as in making it too hard. That which
comes to us too easily we prize but slightly,
what wevvork for we value because we wen
it by personal exertion; we know what it
cOst us. Bogatsky bath a. proverb: “Young
trees root the faster for shaking.” It is
adversity, necessity, not luxury,that develop
character and incite endeavor. For ex-
ample, contrast the early .life of the great
Hungarian artist, Munkacsy, with his later
career. He was apprenticed to a, joiner,
and made the deal boxes he painted vehicles
to express his thought in colors. “Trunks
became pictorial, and door panels were
illustrated.” But the artist’s soul was
above its environments, and though he
made himself 111 and blind by overwork,
be, if ever man did,.realized what it was to
His
painting of the “ Convict’s Last Day ” was
the picture of the year at the Paris Salon,
and broughthim fame and fortune in one
splendid moment. -He married a rich and
beautiful 'woman, and the easy) pleasure.
seeking, luxurious life ensuing, seems in a
measure to have. deadened the artistic im-
agination within him. ~_

It is easy enough, midway a life, to look
back and see where we might have done
better, what hardships we have endured
which we might have been) spared had we
been more favored of fate, how much easier
the way to our present standpoint had
other'hands removed obstacles, how' much
more we might have gained under other
conditions. But we never know whether
we would have gained-that position had it
not been for those very difficulties, which
developed and strengthened us, and brought
out our capabilities as fire refines silver.
_We can, none of us,.say with surety what
we would have done, had our opportunities
been greater; we only know 'what, in the
light of later events, we think we would
have done. ‘ Carlyle, misanthropic, dyspep-
tic,- without enough generosity . in his
crabbed soul to praise the good work of an-
other, or appreciate the nobility of the wife
who devoted, her life to making his as care-
free as she could, might have been merely

 

 

  

money to do everything forthcmnfiEloW.

but for those very things he believed checks
on his career.

Had I a child who showed particular
geniuan any line, I would not. make
his path too easy, believing as 1 do
that every good thing in life must come by
effort of our own, if it is truly blessed to
us; and believing too, that what if anything '
was lost by slow, self-helpful development
Of that genius, would be more than gained '
by the discipline of earnest endeavor.

Luxury and ease stifle as surely as do
poverty and hard work. The bird mother
pushes her nestlings from the safe confines
of. the home nest, when they'are large

'encugh to fly. She knows untried wings

will never hear them to the freedom of the
groves and fields, and the callow fledglings
flutter, and fear, and utter plaintive cries.
But they find, their wings. - .
' ' BEATRIX.

READING HISTORY.

 

A' great many, especially young people
and children, consider history extremely
dull and uninteresting;»and as it isordln—
ariiy taught in our common schools it is not
very fascinating; the pupils frequently have
but vague and one-sided impressions of the
subject. But if one or two evenings a
week at home are spent in the pursuit of
this study, I think the result will be not
only profitable, but very pleasant.

The co—operation of the parents with the
children is very desirable in these evening
studies. It adds much to a child’s interest
in a lesson 11’ it knows that father and
mother are interested too. Let the children
be provided with several histories by dif-,
ferent authors, and also with maps suitable
t0‘ the period of history which they are to
study. Then have them read aloud and
compare a few paragraphs from each
author, relating to the same subject. 1t
will be found that some pass over lightly,
or entirely ignore events on which others
dwell to a considerable extent. The whole
family will be interested in the use of the
maps, hunting uptheplaces mentioned, and
tracing the routes of armies. Anecdotes
and points bearing on the subject under
discussion may be read or repeated.

Supposing Rome to be the topic, there
are several well known poems relating to
different periods in the history of that
country; and every child will be delighted
to hear

“ How well Horatius kept the bridge
- In the brave days of old,”
or Marc Antony’ 3 address on the- death of
Caesar. . Then perhaps some one could give
a description of a Roman dwelling house,
and of the costumes of the time.

And too, there are many‘beautiful poems
founded on incidents in the history of our
own country, such as “‘PaulRevere’s Ride,”
and “ The Liberty Bell,” of revolutionary
times; and “ Sheridan’s Ride,” and “Bar—
bara Fritchie” of later date. When a
family once begins the study of history in
this way, they never cease finding items 'of
interest; and it is surprising, at the end of
a month 0r two, to find how much history
is really. stored away in the mind of in-

 

the misanthropic man, not the great writer,

dividual "members. MIGNON.
Ossno. .

\


 

4:

THE HOUSEHOLD.”

 

INFLUENCE 01:~ ROUTINE.

. E. 'L. Nye wOuld like opinions on t{e
‘ question, 'Is routine work destructive of or
detrimental to the proper development of
genius? '_Genius, as I understand the term,
g is simply a natural talent or aptitude for a
particular employment or study, as music,
painting, literature, etc. Its possession im-
plies the creative power which makes new
combinations of those elements which are
not new, yet have never been put together
or treated in that manner before; it, there-
fore, includes also a certain amount of
originality and imagination. Routine is a
Course of duties or tasks regularly recurring,
or any ‘habit, or practice, or work which
is not accommodated to circumstances.
Can genius be developed by or in spite of
routine? Naturally the answer depends
upon the bent of the genius and the nature
" of the routine. Prof. Olney, the lamented
mathematician of. 'the University, said:
“The best genius God ever gave to man is
worthy purpose and hard work.”

head of “daily necessary tasks,” orroutine.
But we think of Hawthorne, chained to the
red tape of a custom house, and thank
Heaven he was emancipated from it in time
to give us “The Scarlet Letter;” yet we
cannot know how much he owed even to
the routine so irksome,'but which at least
forced habits of regular work and applica-
tion. We hear much of.the eccentricities
of genius, and the opinion quite generally
prevails that Pegasus must not beharnessed.
But what is genius worth if it give us no
fruits? and how can it bear‘ fruit without
those habits of persistent industry and ap-
plication which are, if not routine, at least
closely‘allied to it? I know it is a popular
idea that a poet or great Writer can throw
oif a sonnet or a story with no particular

labor beyond the putting pen to paper, that'

great'ihventions are only happyinspirations
of mechanical genius. But this is a great
error.
is only another name for painstaking appli-
cation joined with .natural aptitude or in-
clination, and that the first, which often
might be called routine, is only another
name for the latter, which we call genius.
All our great writers, artists, or others who
have achieved renown, have their regular
hours of labor, during which they apply
themselves diligently to the work in hand.
It is in this way they accomplish results;
they do not Wait for “Inspiration,” but
invite her, and make her come.

I should value routine as teaching the
value of time, _the necessity of continuous
application, 'and for the discipline it gives
to the mental faculties. But it must be a
routine adapted to the tastes of the genius;
though Burns, turning the “wee, modest,
.crimson tip ’it flower” under his'plowshare,
found in the routine of an uncongenial em-
ployment material which has helped to, im-
mortalizehimasapoet. Is it not one of
the attributes of genius to make even rou-
tine subservient, and make available even
the most untoward circumstances?

But I apprehend E. l... Nye, in her query,

had more in mind the thousand instances in

common life where the daily recurrence of
uncongenial tasks_which must be performed

 

And
_ work, generally speaking, comes ‘under the‘

I believe it true that most “genius’ '1

 

—perhaps to secure the necessaries of life— I

prevent those gifted with natural abilities
in a special line, from developing those
abilities. This is truly life’s hardship.
Routine we can bear, it it is. in work not
distasteful to us; and which if we the of it,
can be lightened by a break in the mono-
tony. _But if duties are hateful, and we feel
within the call to other work, routine be-
comes the stone of Sisyphus, crushing us
beneath its weight and grinding into the
dust ou1 hopes and aspirations. Yet genius,
true genius, generally overcomes by its own
irresistible force, the obstacles in its way,
and is then, I firmly believe, better for the
discipline and training of the distasteful
routine, which have inculcated those habits
of application without which even genius is
given us in vain. It is safest in this, as in
most questions, to take middle ground.
Routine, if not too oppressive, is Genius’s
servant, too much of it stifies; without any
at all, genius is erratic and comparatively
fruitless. ,
-———...___
THE DISH WASHER AGAIN.

Some weeks ago One of the readers of the
HOUSEHOLD spoke of seeing at the State
Fair a dish washer. I saw' the same
machine, but saw so many other things to
call my attention I thought little of it at
the time, but when my girl left for the
winter, and washing dishes came on me, I
began to think of it more.
there would be more said in our little paper

about it, but perhaps others were, like me,

afraid of having the finger of scorn pointed
at them, at the idea of having a machine
for so simple a work as washing dishes.
It was but a~few years ago that the engine
for threshing was looked at as a thing that
never would be used by farmers. Now
where‘ 13 it? The horse-power is a thing of
the past, never to be revived. .The fact 15
our husbands looked into the workings of
the engine, examined it andtriedit.
should not we ‘do the same? I am unde-
cided about keeping a girl the coming sea-
son; I think if it were not for the everlast~‘
ing dishes three times a day, I could get

along nicely. Some say it won’t wash the

ironware, but what if it does not?» Neither
does the engine do_ all the threshing. 1f
the washer will clean the table dishes, rinse
them and dry them, that would be a great
th. If any member of the HOUSEHOLD
could inform me through i6 columns where
the machine' is made. 1 would be willing to
give it a trial, and report back to the

HOUSEHOLD my success.
Mancnnsrnn.

——..,—_.

Ma. C. M. STARKS, of Webster, asks a
correction of the statement that he is Secre-
tary of the Webster Farmers’ Club.‘ Atthe
annual election last December, Mr. E. S.
Cushman, of Delhi Mills, was chosen gor-
responding Secretary, and Miss Mollie
Queal, of Dexter, Recording Secretary,

111._

"who will reciprocate fraternal greetings

from other organizations throughout the
State, in behalf of the Webster Club.
. ——.OO———— _
“Mona COPY,” ladies; just See ‘what a
doseof “Beatrix” you have this week to
punish youfor your shortcomings! And

Why '

I was in hopes ~

J

 

pictures to yourselves, if you can, the dis--
may which filled your Editor’s soul when
M. ’s and Mignon’s letters were the lone oc-
cupants of the HOUSEHOLD compartment of
her desk, when the cry came, “Where’s
your HousEHOLD copy?” Owing to the
change Of day of publication from Tuesday
to Monday, matter should reach us as early
in the week as possible.

—-—-QOO———— ,. .

, J ULIET’CORSON says, very truly: that the
limit of the farmers’ bill. of fare is some:
what less marked'by paucity of materials

.than by rigid adherence to a few methods

of cookery. ' Farmers’ wives are conserw
ative, and not over-much given to trying
experiments in anything except “ a 1rew
kind of cake;” and farmers themselves are
apt to frown (Town .“ messes” as they;
scOrnfully' denominate all dishes‘ except;
“plain boiled and fried.” But “ variety
is the spice of life ”‘ in culinary matters as,
well as others, and we ought to be willing“
totest newr’ecipes, and adopt them if they- .
promise well.

WE GIVE this week the words of the old

ballad, “Lilly Dale,” from a printed copy,

furnished by Miss Addie Dewey, of G1and
Blanc. Several ladies have sent the words,
written from memory; and “Constant Read-
er” says “copled from memory of thirty-
five years ago. ” ‘ -
——§O§— .
Burma desires to return her thanks tow
Temperance, of Greenfield, for some deli-»

:cious .Tallman Sweets and Snow apples,

and the bouncing big pear which kept them
company. Will Temperance please send her
correct address. A letter sent her has just
been returned undelivered.

, —-—«.——

Contributed fiecipes.

, BROWN Baum—[Two cups sour 'milk; half
cup sugar; three cups Graham flour; one cup
wheat flour; two teacupfuls soda; one tea- ,
spoonful salt. Bake slowly one hour.

Conn Baum—Two cups sour milk;_two c’ups .
corn meal: one. cup oat or wheat flour; half
cup' sugar; one large spoonful shortening;
two teaspoonfuls soda; one teaspoonful salt.
Bake half an hour.

GRAHAM CRACKERS. -—Seven cups Graham
flOur; one cup thick sweet cream, or two-
fnirds cup-butter; one pint sweet milk: two:
teaspoonfuls baking powder; a little salt. .
Roll thin; bake quick; then dry in a warm_
oven. . ’

EGGLnss CAKE N o. 1.—-One cup sugar; half'
cup butter; one cup sour milk; two cups flour;

one teaspoonful soda; one teas'poonful cinna» .

mon; half a nutmeg; one cup raisins.

EGGLESS CAKE‘NO. 2.5-One cup engar; ‘half ‘
cup butter; one cup sweet milk; two cups
flour; two teaspoonfuls baking powder; flavor —

, with lemon extract.

SPrNs'rsn Homnsrnnnnn.
CnnBOYGAN.

CRULLnas. —One pint of creamy sour milk; -'
one and a half cups sugar; half teaspoontnl
salt, and anothe1 of cinnamon: one teaspoOn—
ful soda, and two of cream tartar; (flour to
make a soft dough; roll thin, cut in rings and
fry in hot lard.

Cooxms. —-—One cup thick sour cream; one

tablespoonful butter; one cup sugar (granu- '

- lated is best ,) one teaspoonful of soda; flavor

with lemon; flour just sufficient to mix; roll
very thin, and bake quickly. The above be
ing without eggs, will benefit those whose~ -
hens are “ out on a strike,” MIGNON.

.Ossno. '

 

1‘."- r-ssm’ms‘lnghéx ,