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THE HOME TREASURY OF USEFUL AND ENTERTAINING KNOWLEDGE ON THE AKT OF MAKING HOME HAPPY, AND AN AID IN SELF-EDUCATION 5 THE LAWS OF ETIQUETTE AND GOOD SOCIETY ; HOME AMUSEMENTS; OUT-DOOR SPORTS; AND OTHER INTERESTING MATTER OF SOCIAL AND EDUCATIONAL VALUE. CONTAINS AN ABLY "WRIITEN HISTORY OF THE DOMINION OF CANADA. Handsomely illustrated. 'ioronta, Jottbatt, Jrotkbillc tinb §t. John, Jt.f. J. S. ROBERTSO:^ & BROS. HVNTKR, KODE JC Co., FaiXTHRS AKJ BOOKblHDR.ta, TOKOXID. Entered according to Act of the Par- liament ot Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and eighty -three, by Hunterr, Rosb a Co., m the office of the Minister ot Aorriculture. : -I r i^'-iil n Li imt i i i'i i OClt 7 |f;42 PBlNWD AMD BODHD Bt HtJNTER, ROSE & COMPANY, 25 Wblumotom St. Wmt, Tobonto. PEEFACE. 'HE Editor's aims in the preparation of this work has been thoroughly practical. His motive was to place within the reach of every householder a treasury of reference in all that concerns the Home and its affairs. Almost every one has felt the need of a work to which one could turn in any difficulty for just such facts as this Treasuiy will furnish — facts relative to the concerns of every-day life, its duties and its pleasures, and the means by which the former is enlightened and the latter enhanced. To obtain this information has hitherto involved the search through many volumes, which could only be acquired at much expense. Here it will be found in a concise and well-arranged compendium, " to be read and understood of all m«»n ; " and the assistance afforded will no doubt be appreciated. A reference to the contents will shon <fl Lunenburg 17,09llQaeen'B 2l,199l»helbume 28,233l^armouth 15,827 20,218 2),631 18.547 PROVINCa Digby Annapolis , King's ... Hantii 14,459 Colchester. Popula- tion. 17,784 Pictou 12,449 Antigonish . 10,868 Cumberland . 12,265 11,436 Total 10,511 14,393 N. Brunswick, 15.496 Albert 16,005 St. John, City 10,220 St. John, County 11,485 Charlotte .... «2.*o« &%•:::::: 17,901 Sunbury 12,322 York 31,900 Carleton 17,898 Victoria 12,048 Westmoreland 20,278 Kent 25 176 Northumberlaud 26,818 Qloucester 9,296 Restigouche . . . 12,986 17,493 Total 21,838 21,988 B. Columbia. 16,282 NewWestminst'r 12,066 Cariboo .. 25,078 Yale 67,606 Victoria . . 48,163 Vancouver 40,079 12,346 Total 9,462 21,892 P. E. Island. 15,856 Prince. 16,062 Queen's . . . 49,432 King's 19,939 1,359,027 26,651 12,47U 15,121 17,808 67.917 28,583 10 14, Total 19,881 20,698 23,469 28,360 20,740 36,535 18,060 27,368 440,672 12,329 26,127 26,839 26,087 25,617 14,017 6,661 80,397 23,365 16,686 87,719 22,618 26,109 21.614 7,058 821,233 16,417 7,560 9.200 7,801 9,991 Manitoba. Selkirk Provencher . . . Lisgar. 31,268 Marquette. Elxtension . Total HB TaRR'TORiat Grand Total.. 49,459 34,347 48,111 20,433 108,891 12,771 11,496 6,786 19,449 16,468 66,964 60,446 4,324,810 I ! !1 30 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiEDIA. Comparative Statement showing Popidation of principal Cities atid Towns. \ I t' '* NAMES. Hontreal . . . . Toronto Quebeo Halirax Hamilton .... OtUwa 8t. John Londpn Portland .... Kingston Charlottetown Ouelph St Catharines Brantfoid Belleville .... Trols-Rlvleres St. Thomas . . Stratford .... Winnipeg^ • . . ■ Chatham .... Brockville.... Levis Sherbrooke .. Hull Peterborough Windsor St. Henri .... Prederloton ,. Victoria PROVINCES. Quebec Ontario Quebec Nova Scotia Ontario Ontario New Bruntiwick Ontario New Brunswick Ontario Prince Edwwrd Island Ontario I Ontario Ontario . Ontario , Quetiec Ontario Ontvrio Manitoba Ontario Ontario Quebec Quebec Suebec ntario OnUrio Quebec New Brunswick . British Columbia. PoroiiATioN. Increase. 187X. 1881. 107,226 140,747 33,622 66,092 86,415 30.323 69,699 62,446 2,747 89,682 86,100 6,618 26,716 8.V061 9,246 21,646 27,412 6,867 23,806 26,127 16,826 19,746 8,920 12,620 16,226 2,706 12,407 14,001 1684 8,807 11,486 2,678 6,878 9,890 3.012 7.864 0,631 1,767 8,107 9,616 1,609 7,806 9,616 2,211 7,670 8,670 1,100 2,197 8,867 6,170 4,813 8,239 8,926 241 7,986 7,744 6,873 7,878 2,000 6,102 7,609 2,607 6,691 7,697 906 4,432 7,227 6,t>90 2,796 4,611 6,812 '2,261 4,268 6,661 6,416 2,308 6,006 6,218 212 8,270 6,926 2,666 Decrease. 2,678 " The indicated decrease of the population of the City of St. John is attributable to the great fire which oc- curred in the vear 1877, when half of ths city was laid In ashes. Qreat numbers were thereby driven into the surrounding districts, and many whose business and social ties were thus severed did net return to the city. Summary Statement showing the Beligions of the People. PROVINCES. 1 1 1 i ll 1 1 1 1 ll 1 > 1 Ontario Quebec NovaScoUa... NewBrunswick B. Columbia.. P. B. Island... Manitoba Tenltories.... 606 4,210 1,636 788 10 18 8 106,680 8,868 88,761 81,092 434 6,2S6 9,410 20 7,714 682 818 164 7 17 29 820,880 1,170,718 117,487 109,001 10,048 47,116 12,246 4,443 886,689 68,797 60,266 46,768 7,804 7,198 14,297 8,166 16,840 6,244 3,606 1,872 76 80 843 16,061 121 1,826 1,476 23 694 102 1,193 989 19 66 104 *"88 87,901 1,008 6,6S9 824 491 4 984 * 69<,60S 89,221 60,811 84,614 8,616 18,486 0,470 461 417,749 60,287 112,4?8 44,88<) 4,096 38,836 14,292 681 27,068 6,294 1,408 1,491 8,726 240 8,374 1,061 12,966 8,608 1,618 1,260 10,131 lOd 2,827 46,760 Total 7,211 296,626 8,881 1,701,082 674,818 20,900 20,103 2,803 46,360 742,981 676,166 43,692 86,769 mm THE DOMINION OF CANADA. 31 nons. 06 H* 78 12 67 09 U 00 70 26 44 00 07 06 06 ni 108 !i2 IS5 Decrease. 2,678 nt Are which oo- driven into the to the city. COMMERCE, DOMINION OF CANADA. No. 1. — StatUtical View of the Commerce of the Dominion of Canada during fiscal year ending SOth June, 1881. i OODNTRIH. Great Britain . . . United States . . . Newfoundland . , British West Indies Spanish West Indies French West Indies Danish West Indies British Guiana Ohinn Japan Mexico I'anama South America . . . St. Pierre France Germany Spain, Portugal Italy Belgium Holland Denmark Norway Russia Other Countries. . . Ooin and Bullion . . E8t.am't short ret'd COMMEROD. Value of Exports. 53,747,370 32,87P,0»8 1,523,467 1,787,813 1,167,612 111,175 67,920 215,044 19,761 16,701 348 715,062 152,984 662,711 84,932 46,653 108,694 145,997 268,433 215,764 12,120 32,407 11,617 811,912 971,005 3,023,322 Value of Goods En tered for Consump- tion. • 43,583,806 36,704,112 0r",30i 1,888,695 1,899,813 18,185 8,080 173.978 592,246 818,728 14,160 616,4.34 18,490 1,631,332 934,266 399,684 66,893 88,726 412,834 225,190 36 16,983 14,404 843,224 Totals.... 98,290,823 91,611,604 18,402,64611 Duty Collected. $ o. 8,772,949 97 5,649,161 89 3,251 22 718,667 09 863,547 69 2,137 73 369 49 109,285 29 142,106 10 206,360 61 6,187 06 273,813 12 2,136 45 697,948 79 215,108 04 167,412 65 25,307 99 40,966 25 90,260 84 372,335 63 21 61 2,949 12 718 47 230,772 21 BHIPPINO. Tonnage of British and Canadian Vessels. Entered Inwards. Tons. -2,667,240 Entered Outwards. Tons. Tonnage of Foreign Vessels. Entered Inwards. Tons. 2,724,377 1 1,366,706 Entered Outwards, Tons. 1 '347,014 Total. sSi PI S ^ S ■E a 3 o •a i f a •c g 1 o S5 49 27,068 12,066 J7 6,294 8,608 -r8 1,408 1,618 S« 1,401 1,860 » 8,726 10,131 S6 2iM) 100 n S,374 2,827 Bl 1,0«1| 46,760 B5 48,601 86,769 EXPORTS AND IMPORTS, DOMINION OF CANADA. IComparative Statement of Falue of Exports and Imports, Dominion of Canada, since the Confederation of the Provinces. Yearend'g Total SOth June. Exports. 1868 57,667,888 18«9 60,474,781 1870 73,673,400 1871 74.173,618 1872 82,630,668 1873 89,780,022 1874 80,361,088 Total Imports. $ 73,469,644 70,415,166 74,814,339 06,002,071 111,480,527 128,011,281 128,213,682 Ent. for Duty. Yearend'g Consump. 30th June. 1 • 71,985,806 8,819,432 1876 67,402,170 8,298,910 1876 71,237,603 0,462,940 1877 86,947,482 11,843,656 1878 107,709,116 13,046,493 1879 127,514,694 13,017,730 1880 127,404,160 14,421,882 1881 Total Exports. 77,866,979 80,966,435 75,875,393 70,823,667 71,401,256 87,011,468 08,290,823 Total Imports. I 123,070,282 03,210,340 00,327,962 93,081,787 81,964,427 86,489,747 106,330,840 Ent. for 'Consump. « 119,618,657 94,733,218 96,300,483 01,109,677 1 80,341,608 71,782,340 01,611,604! Duty. « 15,361,382 12,833,114 12,648,461 12,705,693 12,030,641 14,188,849 18,600,786 ! 1 M 32 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. EXPORTS, DOMINION OF CANADA. Summary Statement of the Value of Exporii, the growth, produce and manufacture of the JJominion of Canada, exported during the fiscal year ending 30th June, 1881. DSBCRIPnOK. ONTARIO. QCBBIC. N. 8C0TU. s.bkuh'k. mamit'ba. B.OOLUM'U F.K. UL'MD. TOTAL. Produce of the Mine Produce of the Fisheries. . Produce of the Forest Animals and their produce A^oultural Products .... Manufactures 9303,293 128,982 6,576,332 6,903,005 11,556,581 1,373,829 502,427 ' '2,676,029 30,014,478 9466,021 748,053 12,863,804 13,695,812 18,086,198 1,637,486 151,421 963,000 358,203 48,966,087 9665,094 4,307,068 1,325,280 696,056 545.235 662,630 47,175 7,200 9173,008 786,400 4,739,496 219,206 173,191 249,713 65,360 9767 3,930 '600,766 21,367 1,002 726 91,317,079 403,170 162,747 350,615 1,335 20,620 187 9992 621,282 42,189 200,160 910,220 97,843 2,080 80 92,916,254 6,898,884 25,709,848 22,665,610 81,294,127 4,061,123 Miscellaneous Articles .... Coin and Bullion. 768,650 971,005 3,028,322 Estimated am'ts short ret'd Totals 8,245,738 6,406,374 628,547 2,256,763 1,774,846 98,200,823 SL'KD. TOTAL. 1992 21,282 42,189 00,160 10,220 97,843 2,080 80 12,916,254 6,898,884 26,709,848 22,665,610 31,294,127 4,061,123 768,650 971,005 3,029,322 74,846 98,290,823 HON. EDWARD BLAKS, LEADER OF THE OPPOSITION, FARUAMENT OF CANADA. ir tic nc ' f trj thi thl sol fr The amenities of manner are not quite enough considered at some of our female colleges. With the college course the young graduates are apt to copy masculine manners. This is not graceful, and to some minds would more than balance the advantages of the severe course of study marked out and pursued at college. A mother with gentle and lady-like manners would, however, soon counteract these masculine tendencies and overflow of youthful spirits. We all detest a man who copies the feminine style of dress, intonation, and gesture. Why should a girl be any more attractive who wears an ulster, a Derby hat, and who strides, puts her hands in her pockets, and imitates her brothers's style in walk and gesture ? However, to a girl who is absorbed in books, who is reading, studying, and thinking, we can forgive much if she only will come out a really cul- tivated woman. We know that she will be a power in the state, an addi- tion to the better forces of our government ; that she will be not only happy herself, but the cause of happiness in others. The cultivated woman is a much more useful factor in civilization, than the vain, silly, and flip- pant woman, although the latter may be prettier. But it is a great pity that, having gone so far, she should not go further, and come out a culti- vated flower, instead of a learned weed. Far more reprehensible and destructive of all amenities, is the growing tendency to "fa ^ness," an exotic which we have imported from somewhere ; probably from thv. days of the Empire in Paris. It seems hardly possible that the " fast" woman of the present, whose fashion has been achieved by her questionable talk, her excessive dress, her doubtful manners, can have grown out of the same soil that produced Priscilla Mullins. The old Puritan Fathers would have turned the helm of the Mayflower the other way if they could have seen the product of one hundred years of independence on the other side of the line. Now all Europe rings with the stories of American women, young, beautiful, charm- ingly dressed, who live away from their husbands, flirt with princes, make themselves the common talk of all the nations, and are delighted with their own notoriety. To educate daughters to such a fate seems to recall the story of the Harpies. Surely no mother can coolly contemplate it. And the amenities of home should be so strict and so guarded that this fate would be impossible. In the first place, young girls should not be allowed to walk in the crowded streets alone ; a companion, a friend, a maid, should always be sent with them. Lady Thornton said, after one year's experience of Washington, " I must bring on a very strict English governess to walk about with my girls." And in the various games so much in fashion now. 40 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.EDII^.. such as skating and lawn-tennis, there is no doubt as much necessity for a chaperon as in attending balls and parties. Not alone that impropriety is to be checked, but that manners may be cultivated. A well-bred woman who is shocked at slang, and who presents in her own person a constant picture of good manners, is like the atmosphere, a presence which is felt, and who unconsciously educates the young persons about her. " I have never gotten over Aunt Lydia's smile," said a soldier on the plains, who, amid the terrible life of camp and the perils of Indian war- fare, had never lost the amenites of civilized life. " When a boy I used to look up at the table, through a long line of boisterous children clamour- ing for food, and see my Aunt Lydia's face. It never lost its serenity, and when things were going very wrong she had but to look at us and smile, to bring out all right. She seemed to say with that silent smile, ' Be patient, be strong, be gentle, and all will come right.' " The maiden aunt was a perpetual benediction in that house, because of her manner ; it was, of course, the outcrop of a fint;, well-regulated, sweet character ; but supposing she had had the character with a disagreeable manner ? The result would have been lost. We have all visited in families where the large flock of children come forward to meet us with outstretched hand and ready smile. We have seen them at table, peaceful and quiet, waiting their turn. We have also visited in other houses where we have found them discourteous, sullen, ill- mannered, and noisy. We know that the latter have all the talent, the good natural gifts, the originality, and the honour of the former. We know that the parents have just as much desire in the latter case to bring up their children well, but where have they failed ? They have wanted firmness and an attention to the amenities. IV. RESPECT FOE THE RIGHTS OF OTHERS. As boys and girls grow up to manhood and womanhood, parents should respect that nascent dignity which comes with the age — ' y should re- spect individuality. It is one reason, perhaps, why sisters cannot always live together happily, that neither has been taught to respect the other's strong peculiarity of character, at least in outward manner. If we treated our brothers and sisters with the same respect that we treat our formal acquaintances in matters of friendship, opinion, and taste, there would b^ greater harmony in households. ipp Iren com& We have have also sullen, ill- alent, the ner. We ie to bring e wanted ts should ihould re- ot always le other's ve treated ur formal would ba X^'jqek.\:h. HOME, SWEET HOME. On open is a c exists Cei-ta Dick their Pe any extra girli surv( tongt girls, ing,a her. frien( were As hone! we h Ifth( no fe all tl Al All ] spect and ( peop upon dent afFaii hisj( a wi] and noti the ( lette part mucl RESPECT FOR THE RIGHTS OF OTHERS. 41 One of the first and most apparent duties is to respect a seal. Never open your children's letters after they are old enough to read them. It is a curious element of self-respect that this " community of letters " which exists in some families hurts the feelings of a young person from the first. Certain coarse-grained parents or relatives tear open Sam's letters from Dick and laugh at them. Certain other parents consider it a duty to open their daughter's love-letters. Perhaps in the attempt to keep a daughter from marrying improperly, any kind of warfare is allowable. Extraordinary circumstances make extraordinary precautions proper ; but it should be the last resort. No girl is made better by espionage. If she is a natural born intriguante, no surveillance will defeat her (we are glad to go out of the honest English tongue to find words to express these hateful ideas). If she is, as are most girls, trembling in the balance between deceit and honesty, afair.open deal- ing, a belief in her, will bring her all right. Do not set servants to watch her. Do not open her letters. Do not spy on her acts or abuse her friends. She will be far more apt to come right if she is treated as if she were certain to be true, frank, and honourable in all her acts. As for young boys and men, belief in their word, confidence in their honesty, is the way to make them honourable gentlemen. Be careful, as we have said before, not to laugh at them ; respect their correspondence. If the rough-and-tumble of a public school is to be their portion, there is no fear that the amenities of home will make them effete. They will need all their polish as they go knocking through the world. A husband should never open his wife's letters, or a wife her husband's. All people have their individual confidences which each is bound to re- spect. A woman of large sympathies and wise thoughts, of virtuous life and clear head, is sure to have considerable correspondence. Many weaker people write to her for advice, consolation, and help. It is an outrage upon their belief in her if her husband reads those letters. The correspon- dent is not telling her secrets to him. If a wife is carrying on a love affair, her husband may be quite sure that he will be baffled ; therefore his jealousy will not be gratified on opening her letters. Still less should a wife open her husband's letters. But we are not in the daj's of Othello and Desdemona, nor are we dealing with passions and jealousies ; we are not treating with such ^questions as these. We will end this by repeating the old adage that " a seal is as strong as a lock." If the opening of letters is a fact which is treated carelessly in many families, it becomes a part of that thoughtless disregard of individuality which is remotely so much the cause of uuhappiness at home. " Did we but think." says the 42 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. careless person. Exactly ! " Did we but remember." Yes ! To think, to remember, to consider the claims of all about us, particularly at home, is the beginning of " the amenities." One should be particular about paying small debts to membei's of the family. Tom borrows car-fare from Dick and forgets to return it. Sarah bor- rows a dollar from Louisa and forgets to return it. Then come recrimina- tions and strife. There should be, in the first place, an effort to avoid bor- rowing. Nothing is so good for children as to give them a small money «,llowp-;i0 , and to insist upon its lasting. It teaches them economy and thrift, if this is p jssible, then instruct them in the impropriety of bor- rowing and the necensity of prompt payments. Of course this is all a part of the theory of respecting the rights of others. We are none of us too old or too perfect to be beyond Instruction in this matter. And in tbr education of the young, parents should encourage individu- ality. Tb-y phoiild not try to smoothe off their children to a dead level of uniformity, if Flora can draw, put a pencil in her hand and encourage her. If Jucy can >v rit", give her plenty of foolscap. If Bob wants to go to 08, let i.ini strive to lit himself. If Arthur is a natural orator, bring him up for the law. !<: Ch •. V;* is devotional, strive to fan the flame which may make him a preacher. If Herbert has a tendency to save his pennies, try in the first place to make him philanthropic, so that he will not end in being a miser ; but let him be educated to business. If Peter shows a de- cided taste for art, by all means cultivate it. We need artists in Canada, and they are no longer struggling visionaries. Our education of girls tends chiefly toward making them admirable figures in society, and to a certain extent this is right. But, if she has nothing behind that worldly training, the young girl is apt, after a short worldly experience, either to violently rfeact and to hate it all ; she either grows morbidly sensitive to opinion, or she stagnates into conventionality — either of which extremes should be avoided. There is no sadder sight than to see our young women growing up with no high aims or thoughts to guide them. Society is her power. She is the future regenerator, the preserver of society. K her aims are high and pure, society will be high and pure. The sudden accession of wealth should not make people less well-man- nered. The pursuit of wealth is no doubt very delttructive to good man- nera ; but when it is won, as it now is by so many on this continent, should it not bring back all those amenities, as we are bringing back the brocades, the bureaus, the old clocks, and the carved mantelpieces of our Canadian forefathers ? We are beginning to find out that they built better THE MODEL GIRL. 43 houses in olden times than we do ; that they had more elegant interiors ; that their fireplaces are things to copy ; that there is no such furniture as their claw-footed mahogany chairs. And we should remember that the manners of those pretty great-grandmothers of ours, whom Copley painted, were as well worth our copying as are the chairs in which they sat or the fireplaces which they looked at. The picture of the old-time lady sitting in her parlour, to receive the hand-kiss from her sons and the respectful submission of her daughters — such a one of whom her son said, " You can not imagine my horror when I once believed, the next morning, that my niother had seen me drunk " — the dignified matron, who still, in her early morning deshabille, which was as neat and pretty as her afternoon silk was elegant, attended her house- hold duties, and taught her children the secrets of cookery ; she who was from youth to age a pattern of dignity and the domestic virtues, she — is a vanished picture. The rich parvenu society, which, like a mushroom growth, follows sud- denly-acquired wealth, is now apt to be exceedingly fast and utterly rowd ]- Here and there, persons of native refinement and an intuitive sense of the becoming, endeavour to stem the tide ; but feebly, for the tides of fashion are like those which pour into the Bay of Fundy, irresistible, carrying all before them on their tremendous waves. Fastness and fashion and folly are cumulative, and, if one woman makes herself noticed by eccentric de- fiance of what was once considered decency, another, a thousand others, follow in her wake, thinking that this defiance is the thing. One beau- tiful " fast " woman who succeeds makes a hundred converts. V. THE MODEL GIRL. " I AM SO glad I have no daughters," said a leader of society ; " for what should I do with them ? I should not wish to have them peculiar girls, dressed diflferently from their mates, or marked as either bookish girls, or prudish girls, or non-dancing girls, or anything queer ; and yet I could never permit them to go out on a coach, be out to the small hours of the night with no chaperon but a woman no older than themselves. I could not allow them to dance with notorious drunkards, men of evil life, gam- blers, and betting men ; I could not let them dress as many girls do whom I know and like ; so I am sure it is fortunate for me that I have no daughters. I could not see them treat my friends as so many of my 44 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. friends' daughters treat me — as if I were the scum of the universe, I am glad I have no daughters ; for a modern daughter would kill me." Perhaps this lady but elaborated the troublesome problem which has tried the intellects of all observant women — how to make the proper medium girl ; not the " fast " girl ; still again, not the " slow," dowdy girl ; not the exceptional girl, but the girl who shall be at once good and suc- cessful — that is the question ? The amenities of home, the culture of the fireside, the mingled duty and pleasure which come with a life which has already its duties before its pleasures — this would seem t^ make the model girl. The care and inter- est in the younger sisters and brothers ; a comprehension and a sympathy with her mother's trials ; a devotion to her hard-worked father ; a desire to spare him one burden more, to learn the music he loves, to play to him of an evening ; to be not only the admired belle of the ballroom, but also the dearest treasure of home ; to help along the boys with their lessons, to enter into those trials of which they will not speak ; to take the fracti- ous baby from the patient or impatient nurse's arms, and toss it in her own strong young hands and smile upon it with her own pearly teeth and red lips ; to take what comes to her of gaiety and society as an outside thing, not as the whole of life ; to be not heartbroken if one invitation fail, or if one dress is unbecoming ; to bear the slight of no partner for the German with a smiling indifference ; to be cheerful and watchful ; to be fashionable enough, but neither fast nor furious ; to be cultivated, and not a blue-stocking ; to be artistic, but not eccentric or slovenly ; to be a lovely woman whom men love, and yet neither coquette nor flirt — such would seem to be the model girl. And it is home and its amenities which must make her. School can not do it , society can not and will not do it ; books will not do it, although they will help. And here we have much to say on the books which should surround a girl. We must seek and watch and try to find the best books for our girls, But we can no more prevent a bad French novel from falling into their hands than we can prevent the ivy which may poison them from springing up in the hedge. The best advice we can give, is to let a girl read as she pleases in a well-selected library ; often reading with her, re- commending certain books, and forming her t te as much as possible ; then leaving her to herself, to pick out the books she likes. Nothing will be so sure to give a girl a desire to read a book as to forbid it, and we are now so fortunate in the crowd of really good novels and most unexcep- tional magazines which lie on our tables that we are almost sure that her THE MODEL GIRL. 45 choice will be a good one ; for she can find so much more good than bad. It is unwise to forbid girls to read novels. They are to-day the best reading. Fiction, too, is natural to the youthful mind. It is absurd to suppose that Heaven gave us our imagination and rosy dreams for noth- ing. They are the drapery of fact, and are intended to soften for us the dreary outlines of duty. No girl was ever injured, if she were worth saving, by a little novel-reading. Indeed, the most ethical writers of the day have learned that, if a fact is worth knowing, it had better be con- veyed in the agreeable form of a fiction. What girl would ever learn so much of Florentine history in any other way as she learns by reading " Romola ? " What better picture of the picturesque past than " The Last Days of Pompeii ? " Walter Scott's novels are the veriest mine of English and Scotch history ; and we might go on indefinitely. As for studies for girls, it is always best to teach them Latin, as a solid foundation for the modern languages, if for nothing else ; as much arith- metic as they can stand ; and then go on to the higher education and the culture which their mature minds demand, if they desire it and are equal to it. But no mother should either compel or allow her daughter to study to the detriment of her health. The moment a girl's body begins to suffer, then her mind must be left free from intellectual labour. With some women brain-work is impossible. It produces all sorts of diseases, and makes them at once a nervous wreck. With other women intellectual labour is a necessity. It is like exercise of the limbs. It makes them grow strong and rosy. No woman who can study and write, and at the same time eat and sleep, preserve her complexion and her temper, need be afraid of intellectual labour. But a mother must watch her young stu- dent closely, else in the ardour of emulation amid the excitements of school she may break down, and her health leave her in an hour. It is the inexperienced girl who ruins her health by intellectual labour. To many a woman intellectual labour is, however, a necessity. It car- ries off nervousness ; it is a delightful retreat from disappointment ; it is a perfect armour against ennui. What the convent life is to the devotee, what the fashionable arena is to the belle, what the inner science of poli- tics is to the European woman of ambition, literary work is to certain in- tellectual women. So a mother need not fear to encourage her daughter in it, if she sees the strong growing taste, and finds that her health will bear it. But we fear that certain fashionable schools have ruined the health of many a girl, particularly those where the rooms are situated at the top of 46 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. a four-story building, as they generally are. A poor, panting, weary girl mounts these cruel steps to begin the incomprehensibly difRcult service of a modern school. " Why do you never go out at recess ? " said a teadier to one of her pupils. " Because it hurts my heart so much to come up the stairs," said the poor girl, " Oh ! but you should take exercise," said the teacher ; " Look at Louisa's colour ! " That teacher knew as much of pathology as she did of Hottentot ; and the pupil thus advised lies to-day a hopeless invalid on her bed. VL THE MANNEBS OF YOUNG MEN. But, if the amenities of home are thus hopefully to direct our daughters in the right way, what will they do for our sons ? Of one thing we may be certain, there is no royal road by which we can make "good young men." The age is adissolute one. The story of temptation and indulgence is not new nor finished. The worst of it is that women feed and tempt the indulgence of the age. Women permit a lack of respect. Even young men who have been well brought up by their mothers become careless when associating with girls who assume the manners and customs of young men. And when it is added that some women in good society hold lax ideas, talk in double entendre, and encourage instead of repres- sing license, how can young men but be demoralized ? If women show disapproval of coarse ideas and offensive habits, men drop those ideas and habits. A woman is treated by men exactly as she elects to be treated. There is a growing social blot in our society. It is the complacency with which women bear contemptuous treatment from men. It is the low order at which they rate themselves, the rowdiness of their own conduct, the forgiveness on the part of women of all mascu- line sins of omission, that injures men's manners irretrievably. Fast men and women, untrained boys and girls, people without culture, are doing much to injure modern society. They are injuring the immense social force of good manners. Women should remember this part of their duty. Men will not be chivalrous or deferential unless women wish them to be. The amenities of home are everything to a boy. Without them very few men can grow to be gentlemen. A man's religion is learned at his mother's knee ; and often that powerful recollection is all that he cares for on a subject which it is daily becoming more and more of a fashion THE MANNERS OF YOUNG MEN. 47 for men to ignore. His politeness and deference are certainly learned there, if anywhere. A mother must remember that all hints which she gives her son, as to a graceful and gentlemanly bearing, are so many powerful aids to his advancement in the world. A clergyman who did not approve of dancing still sent his son to dancing-school, because, as he said, he wished "him to learn to enter a drawing-room without stumbling over the piano. The education of the body is a very important thing. The joints of some poor boys are either too loosely or too tightly hung, and they find ib difficult to either enter or leave a room gracefully. " Don't you know how hard it is for some people to get out of a room after their visit is really over ? One would think they had been built in your parlour or study, and were waiting to be launched," says Dr. Holmes. This is so true that one almost may suggest that it be a part of education to teach a boy how to go away. The " business of salutation " and leave-taking is really an important part of education. One great argument for a military exercise is that it teaches the stoop- ing to stand up, the lagging to walk, the awkward to be graceful, the shambling to step accurately. Lord Macaulay in his old age wished that he had had a military training, as he " never had known which foot to start with." There are some persons born into the world graceful, whose bodies always obey the brain. There are far more who have no such physical command. To those who have it not, it must be taught. The amenities of home should begin with the morning salutation, a graceful bow from the boy to his mother,- as he comes into breakfast. And table manners, what a large part they play in the amenities of home ! A mother should teach her boy to avoid both greediness and indecision at table. He should be taught to choose what he wants at once and to eat quietly, without unnecessary mumbling noise. Unless she teaches him such care early, he will hiss at his soup through life. She must teach him to hold his fork in his right hand, and to eat with it, and to use his napkin properly. If Dr. Johnson had been taught these accom- plishments early, it would have been more agreeable for Mrs. Thrale. Teach your boy the grace of calmness. Let the etiquette of the well- governed, well-ordered table be so familiar to him that he will not be flustered if he upsets a wine-glass, or utterly discomposed if a sneeze or a choking fit require his sudden retreat behind his napkin, when, after he leaves you, he essays to dine abroad. "TT"'^'" 48 THE HOME, FARM AND BirSINESS CYCLOP/EDIA. Nothing is better for the practice of the amenities of home than a rigorous determination to dress for dinner. This does not mean that wt> should be expensively or showily dressed, but that every member of the family should appear clean and brushed, and with some change of garment. A few minutes in the dressing room is not too much of a tax to even the busiest man, and he comes down much refreshed to his meal. A lady hardly needs any urging on this point ; but, if any one '^o^s need urging, it is certainly worth mentioning. Several years ago a growing family of boys and girls were taken oy their parents, who had experienced a reverse of fortune, to the neighbour- hood of the oil-wells to live. It was about the time they were growing up, and their mother was in despair as she thought of the lost opportunities of her children. Nothing about them but ignorance. No prospect, no schools, no anything. But in the depth of her love she found inspiration. Out of the wreck of her fortunes she had saved enough to furnish parlour and dining-room prettily, and to buy a few handsome lamps. Books were there in plenty, for old books sell for very little ; so she had been able to save that important factor of civilization. Every evening her lamps were lighted and her dinner spread as if for a feast ; and every member of the family was made to come in as ne-'tly dressed as ii it were a party. The father and mother dressed car ', and the evening was enlivened by music and reading. She attended to their education herself, although not fitted for it by her own training. She did as well as she could. She taught them to bow and to courtesy, to dance, to draw, to paint, to play and sing ; that is, she started them in all these accomplishments. la five years, when better fortunes brought them to the city again, they were as well-bred as their city cousins, and all her friends applauded her spirit. This was done, too, with only the assistance of one servant, and sometimes with not even that. It required enormous courage, persistence, and belief in the amenities of home. How many women, under such doleful circumstances, would have sunk into sloveliness and despair, and have allowed their flock to run wild, like the neighbouring turkeys ! There is great hope for country children who are surrounded by a certain prosperity and agreeable surroundings. They see more of their parents than city children can ; and perhaps the ideal home is always in the country. Those small but cultivated Canadian villages, those inland cities, those rural neighbourhoods, where nature helps the mother, where the natural companionship of animals is possible for the boys, and the THE MANNERS OF YOUNG MEN. 49 pony comes to the door for the girls ; where water is near for boating and fishing, and in winter for the dear delights of skating — such is the beautiful home around which the memory will for ever cling. The ideal man can be reared there, one would think — that ideal man whom Richter delighted to depict, one whose loving heart is the beginning of knowledge. We could paint the proper place for the ideal man to be born in, if, alas ! for all our theories, he did not occasionally spring out of the slums, ascend from the lowest deeps, and confute all our theories by being nature's best gem, without ancestiy, without home, without help, without culture. The education of boys in cities is beset with difficulties; for the fashionable education may lead to self-sufficiency and conceit, with a disdain of the solid virtues ; or it may lead to effeminacy and foppishness — the worst faults of a Canadian. These two last faults are, however, not fashionable or common faults in our day. There is a sense of superi- ority engendered in the " smart young man," so called, which is very offensive. All snobs are detestable ; the Canadian snob is preeminently detestable. A young man of fashion is apt to get him a habitual sneer, which is not becoming, and to assume an air of patronage, whic n is foolish. He has a love for discussing evil things, which has a very poor effect on his mind ; he has no true ideas of courtesy or good breeding; he is thoroughly selfish, and grows more and more debased in hi.'- plea.sures, as self-indulgence becomes the law of his life. His outward varnish of manner is so thin tliat it does not disguise his inner worthlessness. It is like that varnish which discloses the true grain of the wood. Some people of showy manners are thoroughly ill-bred at heart. None of these men have the tradition of fine manners, that old- world breeding of which we have spoken. They would be then able to cover up their poverty ; but they have not quite enough for that ; and they truly believe — these misguided youths — that a rich father, a fash- ionable mother, an air of ineffable conceit, will carry them through the world. It is astonishingly true that it goes a great way, but not the whole way. No youth, bred in a thoroughly virtuous and respectable family, grows up to be very much of a snob, let us hope. Alas ! he may become a drunkard, a gambler, a failure. And then we come up standing against that great cruel stone wall, that unanswered question, " Why have I wrought and prayed to no purpose ? " And who shall answer us ? It is the one who sins least who is found out, and who gets the most punishment. \M II fli 1 1 50 THE HOME, FAEM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. There is a pathetic goodness about some great sinners which they never lose. We love the poor fallen one whom we try to save. Never are the amenities of home more precious, more sacred, more touching, than when they try to help the faltering, stumbling footstep, to hide the disgrace, to shelter the guilty, to ignore, if possible, the failing which easily besets the prodigal son ; to welcome him back when society has discarded him ; to be patient with his pettishness, and to cover his faults with the mantle of forgiveness : all these are too tragic, too noble, too sacred for us to dilate upon. They are the amenities of heaven. Society makes no explanations and asks none, else we might ask why some men and women are tolerated, and why others are cast out ? Why some young man who had once forgotten himself after dinner is held up to scorn, and why another is forgiven even through the worst scandal ? Why is injustice ever done ? I ■'any a young man, having experienced injustice at the hands of society, goe:^ off and deliberately commits moral suicide. The conduct of society is profoundly illogical, and we can not reform it. vn. CONSIDERATION FOR EACH OTHER. Too great care can not be taken in the family circle of each other's feel- ings. Never attack your brother's friend. Remember that if we are at all individual we can not like the same people, see the same resemblance, or enjoy always the same book. Temperaments differ. One feels a draught and wishes the window shut while another is stifling with heat. Were we among strangers, we should simply bear with the draught or the heat without speaking. At home it grows into a quarrel. ' I am so glad Louisa has gone away, for now I can shut the window," said a sister once, who found it so impossible to live with her fam^y that ou coming into her property she very wisely took a house by herself. Perhaps they could not live in the same atmosphere. Great care is necessary in remarks about looks. Never tell people that they are looking ill. If they are sensitive, as most people are about their health, the information that they look ill will make them worse. The questions and the searching glance of a kind mother will have to be borne, for she is the natural custodian of the health of her family ; but even that annoys most people. A due regard for the feelings of her family will teach her, in nine cases out of ten, to hide the anxiety she may feel. CONSIDERATIOX FOR EACH OTHER. 01 Cheerfulness is very necessary in the family. If a person is really ill, we shall find it out soon enough. If he desires sympathy he will come for it, but if he is really ailing, and desirous of concealing it, we should respect his secret, not strive to worm it from him. Many people are made ill by beinf told that they are ill. An invalid once said that the sunshine had all been taken out of his morning walk by the lugubrious looks of a friend,, who shook his head, and said, " My dear fellow, I must confess that you are looking very badly." But there is a class whom Moli^re has painted in the " Malade Imaginaire," who desire nothing more than to be considered ill, who are always looking for sympathy and flattery. The amenities of home should surround the real invalid with flowers, sunshine, agreeable company, if it can be borne, and variety. It is often that the sick-room of some confirmed sufferer is the most cheerful room in the house. If there is a pretty new thing in the possession of any mem- ber of the family, it finds its way to patient Helen's couch. If there is a new book, it goes to her to have its leaves cut ; and if any one has a song or story, how quickly it ascends to that person ! "I never knew how happy a home I possessed until I broke my leg," said a young man, to whom a broken leg was a fearful interruption to business and pleasure. Remember always to give a sick person what variety you can com- mand. Some sufferers from fever require to have the pictures changed on the wall. Some invalids, who are prisoners for years in a room, are better for a new wall-paper or a new carpet. Nothing can be so grateful as a coun- try prospect of wood and water, hill and dale, the sky at morning and at evening. The city is a hard place for the chronic invalid who can see noth- ing but the opposite row of houses. However, the scene may be varied by the presence of birds and flowers ; and a well-bred, favourite dog, parti- cularly a big one, is a great help. The amenities of the sick-room and the proper management of it are subjects which have, however, been so well treated by Florence Nightin- gale and others, who have made them a study, that they seem hardly a part of our little treatise. The mistress of a house should never reprove her servants at table or before her assembled family. It destroys many a meal at home, and drives j young men to their club, if their mother insists upon using her voice loudly I in reproving a refractory servant. No doubt she is often tempted ; no doubt it is very necessary ; no doubt it requires an angelic patience to refrain. But she should refrain ; she should be angelic. Let the man drop i the plates ; she must be " mistress of herself, though China fall 1" Let the 02 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCDOP^OIA. maid come in with bare, red arms and a frowsy cap ; the mistress must bear it all in silence, nor seem to see it, however dreadful it may be. Then let her descend upon the faulty one, and, in' the retirement of the front basement, have it out with her. Some women have a gift at training servants which is like the talent which generals have in handling an army. They can, by their own per- sonal magnetism, make a servant refrain from clattering plates. Others have no such gift. They are from first to last the slaves of their servants, afraid of them, and unable to cope with them. " Oh ! that I could make a request which is a command as you do," said one of the inefficient to the efficient. It is, perhaps, a talent which can not be learned ; certainly, after many failures, we do not wonder that the women who can not manage servants give up housekeeping, and go to the hotels and boarding-houses. A model hostess is said to be one who has a knowledge of the world that nothin*^ sister, declared with tears that she had never been forgivei oil.. them for deserting her sewing-machine for the palette, and i vas evi< ut that she was not clear in her own mind as to whether she had no dis- graced herself. These are instances of narrowness happily conspicuous, and we hope few. But should not parents deeply consider them, and ask themselves PROFESSIONS FOR WOMEN. 68 upon if they have a right to interfere with the chosen vocation of a daughter, even if it does seem to them to be eccentric ? Wo know a mother who aimed at social distinction and a rich marriage for her daughter, who was 80 disgusted with her for choosing to become a doctor that she fell ill and would not allow her to care for or nurse her. " Perhaps you had better try homoeopathy, and take the cause of your disease as your cure," said her family physician. " No, never. I would rather die than be cured by Helen," said the offended mother. She lived to fcjrgive Helen, who now supports her, and she is in excel- lent healtli and spirits at sixty-five. Probably Helen therefore knew best what was good for her. But it is an unlucky thing for the amenities of home when the daughters are so strongly disposed to leave the ordinary walks of every-day feminine duty. The happiesi women are those who can lead the ordinary life, be amused by society, dress, and conventionalities, and who can be early married to the man of their choice, and become in their turn domestic women, good wives and mothers. Therii is no other work, no matter how distinguished, which equals this. But, if this life does not come to a wo- man, and certainly it does not to a very largo number, there can be no doubt of the propriety of a woman's finding her own sphere, her own work and her happiest and most energetic usefulness. Anything can be forgiven of a woman except a career of vice or vanity, or the wretched numbness of inaction. No woman should insult her Maker by supposing that He made a mistake in making her. A morbid or a useless woman was not contemplated in th) great plan of the universe. She has always a sphere. If home is unhappy beyond her power of endur- ance, let her " Go teach the orphan boy to read, The orphan girl to sew. " Let her learn to cook, bake, brew ; let her adopt a profession — music, pos- sibly — and work at it. Let her go into a lady's school and teach. Let her keep a boarding-house, paper walls, hand pictures, embroider, dust, sweep, become the manager of a business, do anything but sit down and mope, and wait for something to turn up. Many a pair of unhappy old maids are now dragging out a miserable existence in a second-class boarding- house, turning their poor little bits of finery, who might, if they had been brave in their youth, have won a large repertoire of thought and a com- fortal competency. But they preferred to keep alive one little corner of prid id that has been but a poor fire to sit by to warm their thin hands 64 THE HOME, FAKM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP-EDIA. } ' I |l| — hands which should not have been ashamed to work, hands which would have been whiter for honest efforts. The prejudice against literary women has so much disappeared that it requires no word of encouragement now to women to try literature as a means of getting a living. Indeed, so many more try writing than have the gift for it that it would perhaps be wise to recommend a great many to try anything rather than that. To write well must be in the fii*st place a gift ; all have it not. To be sure, it also requires will, persistency, and the most enormous industry. No one ever Avrote well who had not gone through many an hour of pain, disgust at the work, and a crucial test of the hard labour that is to bring from the brain its purest gold. But even the industrious can not always write ; and if a woman does not write well she generally writes very poorly. She can not do machine work as well as a man can. Therefore, if she have no inspiration she had better throw down tne pen. Women, by reason of their health, are sometimes debarred from taking up any very exacting out-of-door work. This was, in the opinion of an Edinburgh surgeon (the particular enemy of Miss Jex Blake), an unan- swerable argument against their becoming physicians and surgeons. The fact remains that they have become both. Therefore, we can never say what a woman can not do. We could hardly train our daughters to be car conductors, soldiers, or police-officers, the three trades which are always thrown in the face of woman's suffragists ; but it remains to be seen why they should not play in orchestras, become jewellers and watch-makers, wood-carvers, and inter- nal decorators, that branch of household art now so fashionable and so profitable. One energetic woman in France has made a largo fortune by raising hens and chickens. Another in the west is a good practical fanner, taking care of ten thousand acres, and making money surely and rapidly. It will repay all women to inquire what were Madame de Genlis' seventy trades, and which one, or two, she will learn. There is another reason for learning a trade or an accomplishment, and that is for the pleasure which it gives to an otherwise idle lady. Many a woman, after her children are married, finds herseh with days o g<^t rid of which have no possible pleasure in them, Her occupation is gone, and she needs the help of something to carry off weary, r.nprofitable hours. She generally, in these days, takes to painting plaques, and plates, fans and reticules — which is very good as long as it lasts. It does not last very long- to a woman of active mind. She needs to throw in charitiv^s and outside - •/'%.. I/-. .1?»4^^ ifillllltltlJitih mmmiiiiiiLimiimmmiiiiwwiimiiiiiimminimmiiLiiimmiiiimuim III lllr.ililllllillllllli .^^ '^X^ .iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmiiiiiiiiiii'iiinm'i :m^-^ m 1:1 ■Km ■A ■A '^m i THE HAnQUIB OF LORNE. BX-OOVERNOR-OBNERAL. THE INFLUENCE OF AGED PEOPLE. 65 action, to organize new schemes, and to help along church and school. To unmask abuses, to do that work in a great city which otherwise goes undone ; that i.s part of a good woman's work, which may amply repay an hour's thought. The scheme for Protestant sisterhoods, which is looked upon with alarm by many most thoughtful people, as opening a door for that purposeless conventual seclusion and life of imprisonment and ritualistic mummery in which we Protestants do not believe, has grown out of the necessity which unmarried women feel for a vocation. There can be no harm in the institution of Protestant sisterhoods so long as the sisters take no positive vow. It will not hurt women to enter a religious house, work under a lady superior in instructing the ignorant, raising the fallen, helping the poor, so long as they do not lock the door on themselves and give the key into another hand. There is no one who can be trusted with the custody of our liberty but ourselves. A clergy- man may be a very good man, but he is still simply a fallible man ; and he may mistake very much his duty when a Protestant sister tells him that she desires to leave her work if he tells her that she can not. She may know very much better than he. It is all very well to bind one's self to a good work for a year or two years, that there may be consistency in the enterprise ; but a longer or a final term is not consistent with that freedom which God has given us. XL THE INFLUENCE OF AGED PEOPLE. There is no genre picture so ornamental to the fireside as an old lady with grey curls. Home should alway contain a grandmother, old aunt, or some relative who has seen the world, lived her life, and who is now waiting gently for the news which came to Christiana in the " Pilgrim's Progress," meantime taking a pleasant interest in the little tragedy or comedy of every-day life, and being the particular providence of the younger chil- dren. Such an old lady is as agreeable as she is ornamental. So important is the respectability of a virtuous ancestor to the nouveau riche, that Dickens says, in his immortal way, of the Veneerings, " that, if they had wanted a grandfather, they would have ordered him fresh from Fortnum's and M.ason's. He would have come round with the pickles." A grandfather is a very useful article, whether to quote from or to enjoy daily. An agreeable old man is the most delightful acquisition to any E !ii(^'P''-i' ^^r"^"^",' "^ \rV.T?v' 66 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. society. It is, perhaps, one reaison why the English dinner-table is so pre- eminently agreeable, that old men keep themselves so very fresh, healthy, youthful in feeling, while they are, of course, full of the results of experi- ence. A man in England at sixty-five has not allowed himself to grow careless of dress or appearance. He is not sunk in the apathy or preoccu- pation of old age, even at eighty. To keep himself au courant with the excitements of the hour has been his rule through life. We who live must live every hour. We must cultivate those who are younger as a weary tra- veller stoops to drink of the fresh spring which bubbles up at his feet. It will not do for us to seal up in a bottle the wine which was good when we were young, and drink only that ; we must go ever to the freshei- vineyards. It is not given to us all to remember a kindly grandfather ; but, to those who can do so, it is the most agreeable perhaps of childhood's memories. The lovely old lady is a great treasure in a household, has often agree- able accomplishments in the way of needlework and knitting, has a per- fect store of excellent recipes for cakes and custards, and knows the most delightful old-fashioned games of cards. She has manners, too, learned in a better school than ours. She is stately, courteous, a little formal. She makes a beautiful courtesy. She tells us how she was taught to do " laid work," to sew furs, to conserve currants, to sit up and not touch the back of her chair. Her figure shows that a good spine is the result of her early training. She is the one who is never tired of the society of the growing girls, and who has at twilight the prettiest stories of the time when she was a young lady and Grandpapa came a-courting. It seems, seen through the tender light of tradition, as if those were more romantic days than ours. No doubt she has treasures of old lace and brocade, which come out for dolls' dresses and pincushions. She is very apt at Christmas-tide to produce unexpected treasures. To comfort and encourage the faltering, fainting mother when the new cares of maternity seem almost beyond her strength, who so invaluable as the old lady ? To soothe the boys and girls when the business of life has removed for a moment their immediate guardian, who so nice as Grandmamma ? For young fathers and moti. s have their own lives to live. They must be excused if they wish to go to dinners, and parties, and to Europe with- out the children. Indeed, while the husband is making the fortune, and the wife is keeping house, and living out the business of youth, it some- times seems a pity that the bearing of children should be thrown in. An English economist gravely proposed that children should be born to the old, who have gotten through with wishing to live, and who ifonLd be very m^j^ 4,-« THE INFLUENCE OF AGED PEOPLE. 67 much amused with the business of the nursing, all other business havino" ceased to amuse them. Young people have a deal else to amuse them, no doubt, and a family of children often seems a great bother to them ; but the fact remains that they are ordained to cope with this particular business, and they alone have the strength to bear with the ceaseless activity of childhood. Chil- dren after a time fatigue the old. The other side of the picture is this, also. Old people are not always agreeable, particularly old men, in a household. Grandpapa may be very gouty and very cross, very unreasonable in his requirements, and uncertain as to his hours. He may rap an unwary urchin over the head before he knows it with his cane, and come down severely on the subject of the girls' new dresses. If Grandpapa holds the purse-strings, he is a terrible power. It is not often, however, that rich old men are disobeyed or neg- lected. Human selfishness is too wary. Old men generally are not so agi-eeable in a household as old women. They are caged lions, if disease has crippled them ; they torment them- selves and those with whom they live ; they feel the deprivation of that power and that importance which once made up their lives. They have never, perhaps, cultivated the domestic virtues. So much the better for the amenities of home if the household bear all this with patience, and all try to remember all that Grandpapa did for them when he was young and strong. No matter what are the disagree- able traits of the old, we must bear them upon our young and strong backs. It is one of the privileges of home that we can do this duty, and help old awe to bear its sorrows. How manifold are those evils — the loss of siorht, the loss of hearing, the aggravation of the nerves, the rheumatic pains ! Dr. Johnson, in the " Rambler," says : " A Greek epigrammatist, intend- ing to show the miseries that attend the last stage of man, imprecates upon those who are so foolish as to wish for long life the calamity of continuing to grow from oentury to century. He thought that no adventitious or foreign pain was requisite, that decrepitude itself was an epitome of what- ever is dreadful, and nothing could be added to the curse of age but that it should be extended beyond its proper limits." " It would be well," says Colton, " if old age diminished our perceptibil- ities to pain in the san e proportion that it does our sensibilitees to plea- sure, and, if life has been termed a feast, those favoured few are the most fortunate guests who are not compelled to sit at the table when they can no longer partake of the banquet. But the misfortune is that body and mind, like man and wife, do not always agree to die together. It is bad ■\. ^(W^- f^ 68 THE HOME, FABM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. when the mind survives the body, and worse still when the body survives the mind ,: but when both these survive our spirits, our hopes, and our health, this is worst of all." Many old people who come upon their middle-aged children for support and consolation have reached the latter condition. And no doubt they are a very heavy burden. Many an ill-tempered old person has ruined the life of a devoted son or daughter. But the duty remains. It is one which must not be shirked, even if it descends to a grand-daughter. Little Nell did her duty, and only her duty. It has remained for Dickens to depict, as only he can, the burden of un- just and wicked parents upon virtuous children, Indeed, he has been blamed for grinding up his own father in paint, and therefrom construct- ing the characters of Turveydrop, Mr. Dorrit, and Mr. Micawber. One can but feel regret that a youth such as Dickens passed had eradicated much that was delicate and desirable in the way of reticence. Yet the world needed the lesson. There are depths in the heart of man which can only be reached by such revelations : and we can but hope that some thoroughly selfish and unworthy parents have read and profited by these lessons ; that a Turveydrop may have seen himself, and have ceased to live on his chil- dren ; that a Dorrit may have been ashamed of his pretence and turgidity ; a Micawber, more lovable than the others, have been aroused from his worthless dreams I Severity and censoriousness in the old alienate youthful afiections, and the old should constantly bear in mind that, if they would keep the affec- tions of their descendants, they must cultivate amiability. As Dr. John- son says, to again quote his wise words : " There are many who live mere- ly to hinder happiness, and whose descendants can only tell of long life, that it produces suspicion, malignity, peevishness, and persecution ; and yet even these tyrants can talk of the iiigratitude of the age, curse their heirs for impatience, and wonder that young men can not take pleasure in their father's company. " He that would pass the latter part of his life with honour and decency must, when he is young, consider that he shall one day be old, and remem ber when he is old, that he has once been young. In youth he must lay up knowledge for his support when his powers of acting shall forsake him ; and in age forbear ta animadvert with vigour on faults which ex- perience only can correct." Those who are endeavouring to make home happy, and who are baffled by the peevishness of an old person, must try to strengthen themselves in the good work by every argument in favour of old age, making every ex- ■HP«»wpii^^^^^^^'»"n^"T" THE CAPABILITIES OF HOME EDUCATION. euse for it ; and, if all other arguments fail, must constantly say to them- selves, " I shall one day be old ; let me treat my aged relatives as I hope that my children may treat me." Home should indeed be a " blessed provision " for the aged. Whether they are those healthy, agreeable old people who have laughed at time, those whose unique privilege it has been to stand erect under the burden of eighty years, or those whom time and circumstance have crippled and cast down, home is their place, and it should not be in our hearts to con* sider them as a burden. xn. THE CAPABILITIES OF HOME EDUCATION. " The methods of education should be such as to guide and balance the tendencies of human nature, rather than to subvert them." Mothers must all agree that the best part of education is that which children give themselves in a happy, healthy, not too formal home. The education of a child is principally derived from its own observation of the actions, the words, the looks, of those among whom it lives. The observa- tion of children is keen and incessant. They are always drawing their own conclusions. These observations and conclusions have a powerful influence in forming the character of youth. What you tell them they are very apt to receive with suspicion. Seeing is believing. " How do you know that that is A ? " said a rather irreverent pupil to his teacher. " Why, because I was taught so ! " " Well, who taught you ? " returned Johnny. " My teacher, a very good old man," said the poor schoolmistress, point- ing to the first letter of the alphabet. " Well, now, how do you know but that old man lied ? " returned the imperturbable John. The teacher was nonplussed. At last she thought of a happy way out of her difficulties. " You watch the other boys, Johnny, and see if they think it is A ; if they do not, you may believe that it is B." The great letter proved to be ^ to John's satisfaction, after he had taught himself that it was likely to be it. A matter of self -acquisition, treasured up and reasoned upon, with collateral testimony brought to bear, which grew stronger as Johnny advanced in literature, made A to Johnny a fact. It was no fiction of learning which his natural enemies were fore- 'Tf*" -^-^mrnmm^ 70 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP .«DI A. ing upon him ; but, his native shrewdness having found them out to be correct on this one important fact, he believed them in future, and accept- ed B and C as parts of a system, occult and difficult to remember, but still as facts. We must remember, when in the first youthful ardour of our systems and schemes of education, that costly apparatus and splendid cabinets have no power to make scholars. The little scholar says to his teacher, " Will you tell me what time it is ? " as he looks at the clock. " No," she should say ; " I want you to tell me what time it is." In a half hour the most slow and unimpressionable boy can learn to tell time, and so on. His books and teachers must be his helpers, but the work must be his. As Daniel Webster said : " A man is not educated until he has the ability to summon in an emergency his mental powers in vigorous exercise to effect its proposed object. It is not the man who has read the most or seen the most who can do this; such a one is in danger of being borne down like a beast of burden by an overloaded mass of other men's thoughts. Nor is it the man who can boast merely of native vigour and capacity. The gi'eatest of all warriors who went to the siege of Troy had not the preeminence because Nature had given him strength, and he car- ried the longest bow, but because self-discipline had taught him how to bend it." • It is this power of raising a boy's mind to the ability to work for itself which is the highest achievement of education, and mothers are sometimes inspired with it. And, as curiosity is the first feeler which the youthful brain puts out, the mother should be very patient in answering questions. This is, per- haps, the hardest trial which a mother has to meet. To answer the ques- tions of a tireless crowd of children is enough to drive a nervous woman insane. But, as long as her strength lasts, she must try to do it, and as long as she knows what to say. When they begin with those unanswer- able questions upon theology which they always ask, and which she can no more answer than they can, then she must stop. " Mamma ! why did God make the devil if he didn't want any evil in the world ?" " I do not know, my dear ; you must ask your father," has been said to be the most powerful lecture upon woman's cunning and man's limitations which was ever preached. Curiosity being once excited, the field gs ploughed, and the seeds of learning can be dropped in. Unhappily for the poor boy, he has got to learn many things by rote — the multiplication table, the spelling-book THE CAPABILITIES OF HOME EDUCATION. 71 the Latin grammar; he must be taught tliat dreary grind which we call formula, in order that he may have a mental tape-measure to go ,by hereafter. But just as little should be taught by rote as possible, especially what the child does not understand. It cripples the mind, while it helps the memory. Original thinkers have never been able to learn much by rote. We must remember that education is like the grafting process, and there must be some affinity beween the stock and the graft if we wish to get good fruit. Even if it were desirable, it is very poor work to try to oblit- erate natural tendencies, and make the tree grow artificially. We want, while we are grafting our young tree, and cutting off the unnecessary shoots, to preserve the fine original flavour of the fruit which God gave it, which we did not make, and can only help it to mature and ripen ; for- tunate if, in our blundering ignorance, we do not injure rather than im- prove it. We should teach our children to communicate to us their thoughts and inclinations with perfect freedom, so that we can guess what their minds are leading to. We can thus help them on their favourite road toward any art or science to which their talents tend. We have to contend mor- ally with the habitual reticence of childhood ; but intellectually, if not repressed or frightened, childhood is frank. In teaching anything, as little as possible should be taught a child at once. No wise mother gives her child a half-dozen dishes to eat at once. She respects his stomach. Why not have the same regard for his brain ? In this, we are making the mother the teacher. We are speaking of the capabilities of home, which is to be opposed to the very injudicious tendencies of the average school, an institution in which most mothers who look back upon an extended experience usually unite in decrying. Even Dr. Arnold, of Rugby, who was the model school-master, says, " A great school is very trying. It never can present images of rest and peace ; and when the spring and activity of youth are altogether unsanc- tified by anything pure and elevated in its desires, it becomes a spectacle that is dizzying, and almost more morally distressing than the shouts and gambols of a set of lunatics." The trouble with many of our schools is simply this : they are money- making institutions only. Hard teachers, bad air, and the forcing system, so that the master may have a showy examination, that is all. Oh ! what distorted spines, what fevers, what curious diseases, what wrath, what confusion, what despair, have not been born in a fashionable school ! It is dreadful to think of the tasks which are imposed. And yet it is not lUm.iji iiiiii rnr' ifmm^^v.i ".^|'^pw,w!i!i|mi ■^T" 72 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiEDIA. within the capabilities of home to do without a school-training, especially for boys. They must go to encounter the hard lessons which are to prepare them for life. To learn their kind, to get rid of morbidity, school is necessary. It is fortunately within the capabilities of home to smooth the path of the suffering boy or girl who has to know everything. " The school-boy knows the exact distance to an inch from the moon to Uranus," says Dickens, who had the liveliest horror of a school, and the most active sympathy with school boys. " The school-boy knows every conceivable quotation from the Greek and Latin authors. The school- boy is up at present, and has been these two years, in the remotest comers of the maps of Russia and Turkey, previously to which display of his geographical accomplishments he had been on the most intimate terms with the whole of the gold regions of Australia. If there were a run against the monetary system of this great country to-morrow, we should find this prodigy of a school-boy down upon us with the deepest mystery of banking and the currency." It is this cramming system, this illy digested and cruel qvuntity, which is killing our boys, dit:gusting them with the word leami %g, and which turns our colleges into lounging-places for the lazy, where clubs are formed, and where a "dig" is looked down upon as a low fellow. It is against this false system that all the powers of home should be arrayed. We fear that the teachers of girls are very seldom guided by any defi- nite principles in educating the feelings and the intellect of their pupils. The power of self-control is not sufficiently dwelt upon ; the power of re flection, of looking inward, of gaining self-knowledge in its true sense, is eft to be the growth of chance. The purely intellectual faculty, the power of comprehension, instead of being constantly employed upon objects within its grasp, is neglected in order to overload the memory. Women should be taught to think, to be logical, to bring themselves to reason where they only feel ; to study abstract justice (a quality a woman seldom if ever possesses) : it is a necessity. Much may be said of the capabilities of home education for a girl with governesses. We are not rich in that staple English article ; but there are good governesses to be found. It is a question, however, whether or no we do not deprive a girl of much that is afterwards agreeable in her life in not sending her to school. She ought to know other girls and to measure herself with them. Youth- ful friendships are the strongest ; and we would not like to relinquish that bond. How much more of evil she will learn than of good in a MAKING HOME ATTRACTIVE. 7» mixed boarding>school remains an unanswered question. Most people after careful inquiry are brave enough to send their daughters to a board- ing-school ; and there are some schools which are so admirable that they can certainly do our daughters more good than harm. The public school is no doubt a better place for the acquirement of knowledge than the private school. It is a procrustean bed, but it cer- tainly produces good scholars. xm. MAKING HOME ATTRACTIVE. There are few women who do not try for this, and few women who, trying, do not succeed. The poorest woman can now with very little money make a pretty room, and save it from the lonely, sordid, or conventional look of a room in a boarding-house. She can avoid horsehair sofas and violent carpets, charges frescoes, and vulgar prints on the walls. Good engravings, a little cretonne, some knick-knacks made by herself, a few grasses, a grow- ing plant, and an open fire are all that are needed to make a room pleasant and refined. What a pity it is that in a country covered with wood, a wood fire should be an expensive luxury, for there is nothing like it to make home attractive ! It burns up many a quarrel and morbid speculation, rights many a wrong, and promotes peace. No picture is so utterly cheerful as that of the family gathering round it as evening falls. No conversations are so fresh and witty as those which go up with the sparks. No compa- nion is so lively and invigorating to the invalid, the recluse, the mourner, or the aged as a wood fire. It is the most healthful of all ventilators, the most picturesque picture, the most enlivening suggestion of energy and thrift. It is the most fragrant bouquet, the most eloquent of orators. It is a story-teller to the fanciful, and a juggler to those who love the mar- vellous. What fairy tales does it not tell with its sparks on the back of the chimney ! What combinations of initials it presents to the lovers, who read " A" and " E " mysteriously combined in a true-lovers' knot, written in fire, as is their love ! What strange shapes the logs take to those who intrust their fortune-telling to its mystic revelation ! What dreamy fancies go up in the smoke. Nothing is so healthful as a wood fire in a sick-room. Certain physicians say that it will cure some diseases. In cities, however, we have nothing to take its place but cannel coal, which make a bright and lively fire, and 'y;^. I ''f' 7+ THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Ti'hich is the next best thing to the wood fire, and which should be used in every living-room. What a fine old-fashioned distinction that is, by the way, the living- room ! As if the rooms kept for company were dead rooms, rooms full of ghostly furniture, kept for show, and of cold and fearful aspect. In a true home every room should be a living-room. We should live all over our houses, have nothing too fine to use. Of course the nursery should hold the young destroyers, until they know what not to break, if that know- ledge ever comes. But, to a trooping set of happy boys and girls, the house should be open and free. Each person will find his sanctum, of course, and every oue should, if possible, have a room to himself. There should be some place for those who must work to retire to, where solitude would be possible. But the dining-room, the library, and the parlour should be cheerful and orderly, and always lighted up by some constant and familiar presence. Some- body should be there to welcome the wanderers, to greet the stranger, and to gather the children together as a hen gathers her chickens under her wings. This person is generally the mother, who is the core of home. It is this hour of reunion, this happy hour by the wood fire, which pays her for all her work, all her trials. If she can see her group passing into a. respectable manhood and womanhood, if she can see happy, honest, hopeful, industrious sons, and blooming, modest daughters, she compounds with the past for all its pains, its desperate despair, its hard usage of her- self. She does not mind her altered face and figure, the gray hair, tho age which has come too soon. Her work is done, she has made a happy home, and its fruit is before her intact. Even if she has failed in her loftiest ambitions, even if she has not made heroes of her sons, or eminent women of her daughters, let her be grateful that she has done no worse. Let her be grateful for the strength which has not failed her at the death-bed of her lost ones, that has not given out in the darkest hour, that has sustained the falling, animated the discour- aged, and kept that sacred flame alight on the hearthstone which will in future years be the altar fire in all who remember her. The true home is that ^here there have been sorrow, self-sacrifice, struggle, renunciation, courage, heroism ; and happy are they who have through all discourage- ments preserved it. The valuable influence of sisters in a family of brothers, can not be too strongly emphasized in the subject of the amenities of home. Not only do they or should they give a feminine refinement to the house, but the very duty which they have the right to require of their brothers, those acts of . • P«»H I ' MAKING HOME ATTRACTIVE. 75 personal attention and gallantry, the accompanying of them to parties and to theatres, and the instinct which makes them their sisters' most chival- rous defenders, all go far toward making them gentlemen. It is the sister's fault if she is not a refining and a corrective influence in her brother's life. In this day of mannish young girls it is to be feared that she is not alto- gether as universally so as she should be ; but a sister should strive for that position. She should strive for her brother's affection and ccnfidonce and should endeavour to enlighten them upon the character of girls whom tliey may marry. She knows them, and men can not know the characters of women as another woman can. The refining influence of young girls upon young boys has led many tlioughtful persons to advise the establishment of mixed schools, where the sexes may meet, as in the home circle, for mutual improvement. It certainly improves the boys. They are more anxious to be clean, to hrush their hair, to have better manners at table. Whether it is so good for the girls remain to be proved. It is doubtful if the young people should be exposed to the early temptation of falling in love while the severe business of study is being required of them. To make homo happy when there is even one nagging, hateful, unjust person in it, one who is full of small unam labilities, one who will take the blower down from the fire when another has put it up, who will angrily shut a window when another has thrown it open, who will study to put out lights which have just been carefully lighted to enable a person to read, and so on — the lir.t is a long one — is a diflicult matter. Injustice and petty tyranny go a long way toward ruiningthe character of children, and those who grow up in a house where the father has always been un- just to their mother, those who see him doing these little things daily to make her uncomfortable, have little chance of becoming cheerful and good members of society. " That remembered bitterness has coloured my whole view of human nature," said a man of fifty years of age, as he spoke of the treatment which his mother had received at the hands of his father, from the dres.«- ing of a salad up to the education of the children. But women can bear it, and should do it for the children's sake. The idea of home is worth it all and she who does bear it is one of God's saints and martyi-s. So with an unworthy mother. The father and the children should combine to cover up this most radical and thorough disintegration of home. It is touching to see some young girl rising like a delicate flower, which seeks to become a tree, that it may give shelter and food and rest to those A woman in making a good home shelters who cluster beneath its shade. mmmm mmm wm 76 THE HOME, FA1,M AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. not only her own, but the houseless children of less worthy women. How many friendless boys there are in the world who come gratefully to such shelter ! How many a sick and weary pilgrim, deserted by those whom he has trusted, floats into this safe harbour ! Every member of a happy household goes out into the world to find these waifs, whom he brings h>me to the family table and the family protection. It is one of tbe best privileges of home to the benevolent, this power of doing all the good which thus accidentally comes in one's way. Many a young man living forlornly in lodgiiiga has been saved from fatal illness and despair by the kind interposition of some family who have found him cut and hf ve taken him home, who have nursed him in illness, encouraging him to hope and to recover. Many a house becomes a " home for the friendless" in this way. Certainly a^oble hospitality. It is not the richest house which is the most hospitable ; so no one need be discouraged in the attempt to be hospitable by want of money. It is charming to one's self-love to have a well- furnished house, a French cook, and a beautiful dinner service, a butler and fine wines, and to ask one's friends to come to excellent dinnera, to see how well we live. But those of lesser means have the power to give, and to exercise the true spirit of the most sincere hospitality without these adjuncts. Home, being a .strong background, should not be carelessly used to give a factitious respectability to those who are unworthy. Women of large hep.rts sometimes do this wrong to the w^orld. In their earnest desire to help the unfortunate, they take in a person of uncertain character, and launch upon the world an adventuress or a rascal. ' He or she has Mrs, So and So's indorsement; he has lived in her family." This has started many a specious vagabond in society. This looseness of goodness has done much harm. Of course, we can not help being sometimes deceived ourselves, but ne can help being culpably careless. Much of this kind of patronage undoubtedly springs from a love of approbatioi,, whioh is a poor motive. People like to patronize and to be looked up to ; vney like to hear themselves spoken of as being generous, noble, and bo^pitable. The flattery of those whom we have rescued from a doubtful position is sweet, in vast contrast with the utter want of gratitude which often comes to us from thv)se who owe us everything. We do not always receive the praises due to us for the work we have really done, and the heart of wonian craves praise. Giad is she to get it, fcven from the unworthy. But, here the hospitable heart should stop and ask herself these ques- tions : " Is my motive in taking i this woman purely generous end MAKING HOME ATTRACTIVE. 77 sincerely kind ? Do I know her well enough to make her a member of my family ? Have I a right to give her the prestige of my name and family, which she will receive if known as my protegee ? " We have dwelt but little on the duty which every head of a family owes to herself, her family, and the outside world, in allowing no scandal to be talked at her table or by her fireside. The character of some houses in this respect is fearful. " Ye who enter in, leave all hope behind "; for your flesh will be pecked from your very bones. Some families have a keen wit, impinging tempei-s, sharp speech, and an omnivorous appetite for unhandsome traditions of their neighbours. They batten on human character, and to dilate upon the many stories which float around concerning everybody is their best amusement. A " mauvaiae langue " is a fearful gift. It makes a woman powerful but hated. " She is a great gossip, she is a talker," is the wor^t of all re- putations in a neighbourhood. It is difficult for the mother of bright and witty young people to keep them from the over-exercise of their tongues. They catch the grotesque and funny side of things intuitively. They are not too particular as to what they say of their companions ; and there is nobody who car not be ridiculed. Therefore they grow into scandal-mongers innocently at first, and regard the amusement of making people laugh at their friends as an element of being agreeable. This grows into bitterness, and the attri- buting of ignoble motives as they grow older, on the part of those who find life disappointing, and whose experience does not tend tosoften them. Therefore a rule, formed early in life, to not speak ill of anybody, no matter what the provocation, would be most useful and beneficent. Children and young people should be warned against the dangers of mimicry. It is an amusing but a dangerous gift; and he who cultivates it will sooner or later get into difficulty. " Whatever tends to form manners or to finish men has great value. Every one who has tasted the tielights of fi iendship will respect every social guard which our manners can establish tending to secure us from the intrusion of frivolous and distasteful people. The jealousy of every class to guard itself is a testimony to the reality they have found in life. When a man once kno'vs that he has done justice to himself, let him dis- miss all terrors of arist >cracy as superstitions, so far as he is concerned." Every mother should put a " social guard " around her home. She can not be too particular as to the acquaintances whom her dauj:;hters may select as their intimate fri cuds ; and she should cultivate pulitene.s.s. HP 78 THE HOME, FAKM AND BUSINESS CYCLOr.^ilDIA. "Politeness is tae ritual of society, as prayers are of the Church, a school of manners, and a gentle blessing to the age in which it grew. Indeed, some good people classify politeness as one of the seven cardinal virtues. It certainly keeps us from doing many ungracious acts. The good man- ners of those who have no training must be in native goodness of heart, which is the secret of all true politeness ; but very few people can alwaj's trust to that instinct. If they are trained to an habitual politeness, the result is most favourable. It inculcates self-restraint, and, although theie may be the vices of a Chesterfield under the polish, the polite person saves the feelings of his intimates, and keeps them from losing their temper at the brutality of bad manners. It was sensibly urged by an ouvrier in the French Revolution, that he preferred " the tyranny of the aristocrat to the tyranny of the mob ; for," said he, " I like better the tramp of a velvet slipper on my foot than the kick of a wooden shoe," No creature is all saint and no creature all sinner. A mother, a teacher, a preacher, must remember this, and do the best that can be done to make out of the people around one amiable members of society. We live in a time of great thoughts, in which much is said and done for the instruction and elevation of mankind. It is the philanthropic age ; the whole sentiment of reforming the masses belongs to our day. When we reflect upon how much has been done by men and women like oui- selves, we can not despair, but still hope that we may do something to- wards it ourselves. But still it may not be within our power to do more than to make one happy and useful home. Let i- i remember, if we do that, we have helped to swell the class of the well-bred, whom ono day we hope may predomi- nate over the ill-bred. " Good manners are the shadows of virtues, if not the virtues them- selves." " Company manners," so called, are therefore better than no man- ners at all. They are not as good as home manners, real manners ; but they may work inwardly. We sometimes gain the real virtue which we have only affected. Idleness has no place in the model home, Be indefatigable in labour, and teach your children to vrork. The earnest worker finds opportunity and help everywhere. It is not accident that make the fortune. It i-i assiduous purpose and work ; and v o all know how difticulty and poverty have inspired and made great men. To the idle and luxurious, opportu- nity offers nothing. The })ook is necessary to the eye ; there must be something to take hold of. There is something in industry which is mai- vellous. It accomplishes the impossible. It may not always make agree- T^"!*!!?^ -r^jTr M AXING HOME ATTRACTIVE 70 able people at first ; but it usually ends that way. Tb( an of little worth and no industry, he who depends upon others, is apt to be despondent, unhappy and querulous. The only class possessing abundant leisure, who have a right to be idle, are the women who are supported by indulgent fathers and husbands, or who are rich in their own right ; and it is to this class that we must look for the maintenance of tHe elegancies of life. They do much to preserve for us a refined tone of society, if they do nothing else. But we must observe that such women are seldom idle. The richest woman in New York is the busiest woman. She is never happy unless she is at work. She is doing something for every charity — helping along young artists, raising the poor gifted daughter of poverty to a higher opportunity, lending her kind hand everywhere. Oreat wealth also brings great responsibilities, and wealthy single women do not often take advantage of their wealth to be idle. It is the very woman or man who ought to work, who is apt to be incorrigibly lazy. Women should be educated to feel that the single life has its duties, pleasures, and i*ich and ample fulfilment as well as the married. " I have seen my sisters so unhappy in their wedded lives that I shall never marry," .said one most attractive woman. " I believe nothing is so useful or so happy in the present crowded state of the world cS a single life," said another. Women in the single life have an enviable opportunity to live out their own individual] tj', and they find their place in anybody's home if they are good and agreeable. But, so long as they are fussy, sentimental, troubled about old love affairs, seeking, after the day for such things has passed, to lie considered attractive, affected, and coquettish, then the old maid deserves the reproach which the vulgar have cast upon her. " It requires a very superior woman to be an old maid," said the most delightful old maid who ever lived. Miss Catharine Sedgwick. And now for one long, last, lingering look over all the field which we have swept with our comprehensive broom. Home, whenever and whatever it may be, is sacred. It is a place which noae of us, the worst of us, wish degraded. Unhappy it may be, sordid 'o may be, poor it may be, but we do not wish others to speak ill of it. Very f :w of us wish it broken up, although it may be our sad business to leave it. It is an inclosure for which we are willing to make vast sacrifices. It is the one education which has influenced us powerfully for good or evil. 80 THE HOME, FARM AlW BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. What our fathers taught us, what our mothers sang to us, we shall never forget. The impression we have made upon our children will never pass away. The home we have made — consciously or unconsciously — is the factor in their lives of the greatest importance. We may have sown the seeds of a positive moral goodness, to see the flowers come up, but choked by weeds; we may have studied household education, and have learned the supposed seed-time and harvest of all the virtues, and have sown broadcast the grain of integrity, self-denial, energy, and industry, yet we have reared only idlers, drunkards, and seltish volup- tuaries as the result of our home-training. The seed-time was ours ; the harvest is the liord's. Wo are not told why we sometimes fail in our best efforts, but we know that we do fail. We can, therefore, promise no parent success. There are some soils in which plants of virtue will not grow. Nor is character dependent eithei- upon instruction or training. The good Jon and the hud son grow up by the same fireside. It is the use which each will make of his opportunities which will determine the question. And even the best people must go through deep trials before character is (perfected. To live unselfishly to good aims, to rise above our daily and hourly temptations, to do our duty whether re^"arded or not — these are our stepping-stones. But, whether destined to be successful or unsuccessful, all people should try to make a home whose influence shall be good. Whether humble or important, our duty remains the same — to make a good home according tij our lights. V'e live in an age which has thrown away tradition, yet it will not hurt us to read of the past, with its trainings and teachings, its formal precepts its stiff' manners, its respect for eldere, its old-school customs. Let us aim to take for our model all that was good in tl at sort of home. Then let us read of the homes which have formed the great and good and UL-eful people of our Pantheon. We may see, as in the case of Mary Russell Mitfoiu, how a wretched and worthless father developed the most generous and useful of daughters. We may learn in almost all biographies some great les.'iv.n of virtue born of trouble. We shall have to accept many a story of woithless children who have not been made good by anything ; many worthless parents who hav^ ma.ie their children unhappy; but we shall occasionally be refreshed by a well spring of such delightful fresh- ness that we shall have stre^igth given us wherewith to struggle on. And character, when fine, is such a very romunerative thing to the mind which needs help ! We almost welcome any suffering if it would make jiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiHO(iiifiiH« }r.'^' ' s 3:,,;. V7 'i'liiiiifliifiiMiiiii^^ ;^^^^^' -^'^■.■"\A ^■M'. -..1^ i ..^"™!ir >' /ij^ H. R. H. FiiUNOEBS LOUISE. """"'""iiiiiii''"Mi»iiiiiiiiiiiiiii|llilliiini| us so sti back thi have kn ing coun Sir Phili ber his i fulness, { at early patient, corded li Soof 1 met calai love and and for 1 capable < equable 1 pretty ar lessons ai she gatht keeping i And w just susp: whom cai We thi brocade, f swallowe< son. No members dour If Tliis is ch So long State, so i and to Gc We ha\ The hour! company, must be le Almost punctuallt commonpli £ IP ipMMIM>«HPi"MiW^^ MAKING HOME ATTRACTIVE. 81 US so strong, noble, true as some people have been. We sometimes look back through our tears, and see what a large place a certain character we have known has filled in the lives of all who knew him. A hard-work- ing country doctor may have been, as we look up his record after death, a Sir Philip Sidney, an Admirable Ciichton, a Carlo Borromeo. We remem- ber his mirth, his cheerfulness, his courtesy, his wit, his industry, faith- fulness, and unselfishness. We remember how he came into the sick-room at early morning, bringing flowers with the dew on them for his suffering patient, and we follow him through the years of his beneficent but unre- corded life, saying, " This was character." So of many a woman unknown to fame, we remember how bravely she met calamity and shame, brought to her by the man who had sworn to love and to protect. We remember how cheerfully she worked for him and for her children, never losing her faith in human nature, how she was capable of seeing others succeed without envy, how pure her heart, how equable her temper. We remember how she made home happy, and how pretty and agreeable she was, although her mornings were given to music lessons and her afternoons to drudgery. No one would have suspected, as she gathered her lambs about her evening wood fire, that she had been keeping the wolf from the door. This was character. And we remember the man who all through his life lived under an un- just suspicion to shield a brother or a son. We think of the old man to whom came domestic trials of the hardest, yet who never lost his faith. We think of the brilliant woman of society, who stuffs her wounds with brocade, and never lets the world see that she bleeds inwardly. She has swallowed her troubles. She can work for that worthless, that drunken son. No one will know that she does it. T is necessary for the other members of her family that she keep up that home in its supposed splen- dour It is only another sleepless year to her ! What does it matter ? This is character. So long as mei. and women remember that home is the anchor of the State, so IcT'g will they be doing their duty to themselves, to their country, and to God. We have not been able to ^ay down any definite and unalterable rules. The hours of rising, of retiring, of taking meals, of dressing, receiving company, and of allowing either gaiety or sobriety to rule the house, this must be left to the sense, tAste, and discretion of every householder. Almost aU people of 3en3e agree as to the advantages of early rising and punctuality and economy and general good manners. It may seem very commonplace to even allude to them. It is to that higher instinct which ".IJIIJ ....If. 82 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. lies behind good reputation to which we would appeal. It is to the sacred sense of the reality of home. It is to the feeling that Wordsworth ex- presses iu his well-known lines respecting those " who never roam. True to the sacred twints of heaven and home." Still less have we been able to tell parents, except very generally, what books their children should read. We are very great believers in fairy tales, and think that the nursery circle should be entertained by tlie mother in reading aloud those delightfully fantastic productions of Grimm and others who have explored the world under the fern-leaves. There is no danger that these stories will make liars of children, as some conscien- tious people have feared. A child perceives at once the difference between fact and fancy. And the fairy stories are as true as " Sandford and Merton" or the "Kollo Books." Let children read both. Let the delicate instruction which Al- tera through " Jack and the Bean-Stalk," " Cinderella," and through the immortal pages of the " Arabian Nights," reach a youthful mind early. These books give an elegance and a fulness to the intellect of a child which no practical book can reach. A child is nearer heaven than we are he still sees the unseen. " And trailinf; clouds of glory, does he come From God, who is his home. We should remember that his clear and unpolluted mind still revels in dimly remembered wonders, of which we have lost sight, and the univer- sal craving of a child's mind for the wonderful is not to be despised. As for the growing man and woman, we can only say : give them good books at first, and they will never wi^h for any other. Form a taste, anil then turn them into a well-selected library. If a little girl comes to her mother and asks, " What shall I read ? " she should always be helped to a good book. But, after her tastes are pronounced, she will read what she likes or will not read at all. And we would earnestly urge upon American mothers to go into society with their daughtei-s, to make the greatest effort to be with them, to know well their intimates, to keep young for their daughters' sake. It is very often that, with small means and with young children, a mother finds her- self unable to do this thing. Indeed, it is sometimes the case that a mother economizes on her own dress in order that her daughter may be better dressed, and stays at home herself to send her daughter. This is a great mistake. The mother's presence as chaperon to her daughter would ON THE MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. 83 have saved us much national siiandal. In families of good ancestry, where good manners have been transmitted, we find always the mother a prominent feature in society. In families of no antecedents, those who must make a family, certainly this rule should be even more vigorously followed. We would have no reproach of " fast girls " if dignified mothers watched over their daughters' amusements. If parents wish their children to be loving, appreciative, and grateful, they should teach them to reverence and to obey. If they wish them to be graceful, accomplished, refined, they must surround them with these ad- vantages at home. They must teach them not only those principles of good-breeding which spring from the heart, but they must tell them of the immense force which lies in social good-breeding and in pleasant manners. And if we could compress into one golden sentence the nearest approach to a formula for home happiness, it would be this : Be as polite to one an- other as if all were strangers. Do not let the intimacy of home break down a single barrier of self-control. Let every member of the family studiously respect the rights — moral, intellectual, and physical — of every other member. Lot each one refrain from attacking the convictions of the other. We should not so treat a stranger. Why our own ? " ftill in thy right haud carry gentle peace. To silence envious tongues." XIV. ON THE MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. BY LORD LYTTON. • .11 (Addressed chiejly to the Young.) In a work of fiction I once wrote this sentence, which, perhaps, may be found, if considered, suggestive of some practical truths — " Money is character," In the humbler grades of life, certainly character is money. The man who gives me his labour in return for the wages which the labour is worth, pledges to me something more than his labour — he pledges to me certain qualities of his moral being, such as honesty, sobriety, and dili- gence. If, in these respects, he maintain his character, he will have my money as long as I want his labour ; and when I want his labour no longer, his character is money's worth to him for somebody else. If, in ff»9jiwf ii.i«Ji,ni« ipiiimiijiipipiiJi . wf^w^ "f^ 84 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. addition to the moral qualities I have named, he establish a character for other attributes which have their own price in the money market — if he exhibits a superior intelligence, skill, energy, zeal — his labour rises in value. Thus, in the humblest class of life, character is money; and accord- ing as the man earns or spends the money, money in turn becomes char- acter. As money is the most evident power in the world's uses, so the use that he makes of money is often all that the world knows about a man. in our money gained justly and spent prudently ? our character establishes a claim on respect. Is it gained nobly and spent beneficently ? our char- acter commands more than respect — it wins a place in that higher sphere of opinion which comprises admiration, gratitude, love. Is money inherited without merit of ours, lavished recklessly away ? our character disperses itself with the spray of the golden shower — it is not the money alone of which we are spendthrifts. Is money meanly acquired, selfishly hoarded ? it is not the money alone of which we are misers ; we are starving our own human hearts, depriving them of their natural ailment in the approv- al and affection of others. We invest the money which we fancy so safe out at compound interest in the very worst possession a man can purchase — viz.. an odious reputation. In fact, the more we look round the more we shall come to acknowledge that there is no test of a man's character more generally adopted than the way in which his money is managed. Money is a terrible blab ; she will betray the secrets of her owner what- ever he do to gag her. His virtues will creep out in her whisper, his vices she will cry aloud at the top of her tongue. But the management of money is an art ? True ; but that which we call an art means an improvement, and not a deterioration, of a something existent already in nature ; and the artist can only succeed in improving his art in proportion as he improves himself in the qualities which the art demands in the artist. Now the management of money is, in much, the management of self If Heaven allotted to each man seven guardian an- gels, five of them at least would be found night and day hovering over Lis pockets. On the first rule of the art of managing money all preceptors must be agreed. It is told in three words, " Horror of Debt." Nurse, cherish, never cavil away, the wholesome horror of Debt. Per- sonal liberty is the paramount essential to human dignity, and human happiness. Man hazards the condition, and loses the virtues of freeman in proportion as he accustoms his thoughts to view, without anguish and shame, his lapse into the bondage of debtor. Debt is to man what the ■^mwm ^rm m^^^mir;^^^^^'^^^^: HfT" ON TH£ MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. 85 serpent is to the bird; its eye fascinates, its breath poisons, its coil crushes sinew and bone, its jaw is the pitiless grave. If you mock my illustration, if you sneer at the truth it embodies, give yourself no farther trouble to learn how to manage your money. Consider yourself doomed ; pass on your way with a jaunty step ; the path is facile — paths to Aver- nus always are. But if, while I write, your heart, true to the instinct of manhood, responds to my words — if you say, " Agreed ; that which you call the first rule for the management of money, I hold yet more impera- tive as the necessity to freedom and the life-spring of probity" — then advance on your way, assured that wherever it wind it must ascend. You see but the temple of Honour ; close behind it is the temple of Fortune. You will pass through the one to the other. " But," sighs the irresolute youth, whom the eye of the serpent has al- ready charmed, " it is by no means so easy to keep out of debt as it is to write warnings against getting into it." Easy to keep out of debt ? Certainly not. Nothing in life worth an effort is easy. Do you expect to know the first six books of Euclid by inspiration ? Could you get over that problem in the first book, popularly called the Ass's Bridge, without a sigh of fatigue ? Can you Iqok back to the rudimentary agonies of the Multiplication Table and the Rule of Three, or Aa in prceaenti, or even Propria quce maribus, without a lively recollection of the moment when you fairly gave in, and said, " This is too much for human powers ?" Even in things the ple&santest, if we wish to succeed we must toil. We are all Adam's children. Whatever we cul- ture on earth, till we win our way back into Eden, we must earn by the sweat of our brain. Not even the Sybarite was at ease on his rose-bed — even for him some labour was needful. No hand save his own could un- crumple the rose-leaf that chafed him. Each object under the sun reflects a difficulty on the earth. " Every hair," says that exquisite Publius Syrus, whose fragments of old verse are worth libraries of modern comedies — "every hair casts its shadow." But think, oh, young man ! of the object I place before you, and then be ashamed of yourself if you still sigh, " Easy to preach, and not easy to practise." I have no interest in the preaching ; your interest is immense in the practice. That object not won, your heart has no peace, and your hearth no security. Your conscience itself leaves a door open night and day to the tempter ; night and day to the ear of a debtor steal whispers that prompt to the deeds of a felon. Three years ago you admired the rising success of some most respectable man. Where is he now ? In the dock — in the jail — in the hulks ? What ! that opulent banker, whose m IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 4 ^ 1.0 I.I 1.25 ^V^ 12.5 |5o '■^" IffilBB 1.6 1.4 <^ P^. 7: y /^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 \ #> •^ <^ 6^ Qr 86 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. plate dazzled princes ? or that flourishing clerk, who drove the high-step- ping horse to his office ? The same. And his crime ? Fraud and swindling. What demon could urge so respectable a man to so shameful an act ? I know not the name of the demon, but the cause of the crime the wretch tells you himself. Ask him : what is his answer ? "I got into debt — no way to ^et out of it but the way which I took — to the dock, to the jail, to the hulks !" Easy to keep out of debt ! No, my young friend, it is difficult. Are you rich ? The bland tradesman cries, " Pay when you please," Your rents or your father's allowance will not be due for three months ; your purse in the mean while can not afford you some pleasant vice or some in- nocent luxury, which to young heirs seems a want. You are about to relinquish the vice or dispense with the luxury ; a charming acquaintance, who lives no one knows how, though no one lives better, introduces an amiable creature, sleek as a cat, with paws of velvet hiding claws of steel, his manners are pleasing, his calling — usury. You want the money for three months. Why say three ? Your name to a bill for six months, and the vice or the luxury is yours the next hour ! Certainly the easy thing here is to put your name to the bill. Presto ! you are in debt — the demon has you down in his books. Are you poor ? Still your character is yet without stain, and yc t har- acter is a property on which you can borrow a trifle. But when you borrow on your character, it is your character that you leave in pawn. The property to you is priceless, and the loan that subjects it to be a pledge unredeemed is — a trifle. Young friend, be thou patrician or plebeian, learn to say No at the first to thy charming acquaintance. The worst that the " No" can inflict on thee is a privation — a want — always short of starvation. No young man, with the average health of youth, need be in danger of starving. But, despite that privation or want, thy youth itself is such riches that there is not a purse-proud old millionaire of sixty who, provided thy good name be unsoiled, would not delightedly change with thee. Be contented ! Say No ! Keep unscathed the good name, keep out of peril the honour, with- out which even yon battered old soldier, who is hobbling into his grave on half-pay and a wooden leg, would not change with Achilles. Here I pause, seemingly to digress, really to enlarge the scope of my reasoning. In the world around and without us there are first principles which dely all philosophy. We may arrive with Newton at thf .w of gravitation ; there we stop. " We enquire no more," says Sir William mm ON THE MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. 87 Hamilton, "although ignorant now as previously of the cause of gravi- tation." But man in himself is a world ; and in man's moral organization there are also first principles, on which the more we would dispute the more likely we are to be led astray. All things can be argued upon ; and therefore, if we so choose, we may be argued out of all things the best for us. There are some things for men and nations which it is safest never to submit to an argument. I would not, as an Englishman, permit trial by jury, or the right of habeas corpus, or the honour of the national flag, or the privilege of asylum to political exiles to become open questions for the casuists of other lands to refine into ignorant prejudices on the part of my old-fashioned country. So, as a human being, in myself integral and independent — as sovereign in free-will as any state on earth, however numerous its citizens, however imperial its sceptre — there are certain things which I will not allow to be open questions ; I assume them as indispensable to my own completeness of human being. I grant that a great deal may be said against them, as there may be against trial by jury and the honour of our flag ; but I have made up my mind to main- tain and not to discuss them, not because I doubt that all hostile argu- ments could be triumphantly answered, but because I may not be such a proficient in casuistry as to be able to satisfy others ; and in striving to do so I may unsettle in my own mind the foundation of all that I know to be both the temples and bulwarks of my exis' ence as man. I will not consent to make open questions of aught without which I should think it a mercy if I were hanged as a dog. I have read very subtile arguments against the probabilities that my frame holds a soul — that my present life involves a hereafter. I have read arguments no less subtile against the wisdom and almost against the existence of every conceivable virtue. I could quote pages by writers of no mean ability to show that common honesty is a vulgar error. So that, in fact, if I were to deliver up my whole self to the arbitrament of special pleaders, to-day I might be argued into an atheist, and to-morrow into a pick-pocket. Therefore I say to the young man about entering life as a free agent. Whenever you are tempted to do something which you have been brought up by honest parents and teachers to know to be wrong, do not argue about it — ^j'ou can at least hold your tongue. Without an argument you may commit the fault, repent, and atone it, because you have not frittered away the conviction that you have done wrong; but if you once make the wrong an open qnestion, and consent to argue with perhaps a more practiced casuist than yourself — his argument taking part with your temptation — 88 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. then the chance is that you do more than a wrong thing, that you do wrong upon philosophical system, and will very soon substitute custom for conscience. Never be argued out of your soul, never be argued out of your honour, and never be argued into believing that soul and honour do not run a terrible risk if you limp into life with the load of a debt on your shoulders, and, as the debt grows heavy and heavier, the hiss of some lying fiend in your ear, " Shake it off; you need not be bankrupt ; there is an alternative." " Oh, heavens ! what alternative, say ! " and the fiend whispers low, suasive words — for the fiends argue well — suasive words which, put in plain English, mean this : " Be a cheat ; be a swindler." Shake hands, brave young friend ; we are agreed. You consent to have horror of debt. You will abstain, you will pinch, you will work harder and harder, if needful. You will not slink through the crowd as a debtor. Now comes the next danger. You will not incur debt for yourself, but you have a friend. Pythias, your friend, your familial- — the man you like best and see most of — says to you, " Damon, be my security — your name to this bill!" Heaven forbid that I should cry out to Damon, " Pythias means to cheat thee — beware ! " But I address to Damon this observation : " Pythias asks thee to guarantee that three, six, or twelve months hence he will pay to another man — say to Dionysius — so many pounds sterling." Here your first duty as an honest man is not to Pyth- ias, but to Dionysius. Suppose some accident happen — one of these which, however impossible it may seem to Pythias, constantly happen to the Pythiases of other Damons who draw bills on the bank of Futurity ; suppose that the smut or the rain spoil the crops on which Pythias relies, or the cargoes he expects from Marseilles, California, Utopia, go down to the bottomless seas — Dionysus must come upon you ! Can you pay to Dionysius what you pledge yourself to pay to him in spite of those acci- dents ? He thinks those accidents not only possible, but probable, or he would not require your surety, nor charge twenty per cent, for his loan ; and, therefore, since he clearly doubts Pythias, his real trust is in you. Do not merit the trust ? Can you pay the money if Pythias can not ? and, allowing that you pay the money, are your other obligations in life such as to warrant that sacrifice to Friendship ? If you can not pay, or if you owe it to others more sacred than Pythias himself— owe it to your parents, your plighted bride, or wedded wife, or the children to whom, what, before their birth, was your fortune, has become the trust money for their pro- vision — not to hazard for Pythias that for which, if lost, not you alone but others must suffer, then do not common duty and common honesty ON THE MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. 89 forbid you to become surety to Pythias for an obligation which it belongs not to Pythias but to Chance to fulfil ? I am the last man to say, " Do not help your friend," if you honourably can. If we have money, we manage it ill when we can not help a friend at a pinch. But the plain fact is this : Pythias wants money. Can you give it, at whatever stint to yourself, in justice to others ? if you can, and you value Pythias more than the money, give the money, and there is an end of it ; but if you can not give the money, don't sign the bill. Do not become what, in rude truth, you do become — a knave and a liar — if you guarantee to do what you know that you can not do should the guarantee be exacted. He is generous who gives ; he who lends may be generous also, but only on one condition, viz., that he can aflford to give what he can afibrd to lend ; of the two, therefore, it is safer, friendlier, cheaper in the long-run to give than to lend. Give, and you may keep your friend if you lose your money ; lend, and the chances are that you lose your friend if ever you get back your money. But if you do lend, let it be with the full conviction that the loan is a gift, and count it among the rarest favours of Providence if you be ever repaid. Lend to Pythias on the understanding, " This is a loan if you ever can repay me. I shall, however, make this provision against the chances of a quarrel between us, that if you can not repay me it stands as a gift." • And whatever you lend, let it be your money, and not your name. Money you may get again, and, if not, you may contrive to do without it ; name once lost you can not get again, and if you can contrive to do with- out it, you had better never have been born. With honour, poverty is a Noble, without honour, wealth is a Pauper, Is it not so ? Every young man not corrupted says " Yes." It is only some wretched old cynic, no drop of warm blood in his veins, who says, " Life is a boon without honour." But if a Jew knock at your door and show you a bill with your name as a promise to pay, and the bill be dishonoured, pray what becomes of your name ? " My name ! " falters Damon. " I am but a surety ; go to Pythias." " Pythias has bolted ! " V&y the bill, Damon, or good-bye to your honour ! Pardon my prolixity ; earnestness is apt to be garrulous. Vixi ! I have lived and known life. And, alas, what careers bright in promise I have seen close in jail or in exile ; what talents, profuse in their blossom, die off without coming to fruit ; what virtues the manliest rot into vices I! -niiniumm^v.., ,j,l ji 90 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA, the meanest, which, when one cried in amazement, " How account for so doleful an end to so fair a commencement ? " solve their whole mystery in this : " Damon never recovered his first fatal error ; Damon put his name to a bill by which Pythias promised to pay so and so in three months." Having settled these essential preliminaries — 1. Never to borrow where there is a chance, however remote, that you may not be able to repay ; 2. Never to lend what you are not prepared to give ; 3. Never to guarantee for another what you can not fulfil if the other should fail — you start in life with this great advantage : whatever you have, be it little or much, is your own. Rich or poor, you start as a freeman, resolved to preserve in your freedom the noblest condition of your being as a man. Now fix your eyes steadily on some definite end in the future. Con- sider well what you chiefly wish to be ; then compute at the lowest that which you are by talent, and at the highest that which you can be by labour. Always under estimate the resources of talent ; always put as against you the chances of luck. Then set down on the other side, as against talent defective, against luck adverse, all that which can be placed to the credit of energy, patience, perseverance. These last are infinite ; whatever be placed against them is finite ; you are on the right side of any system of book-keeping by double-entry on which a mortal may pre- sume to calculate accounts with I'ate. The finest epithet for genius is that which was applied to Newton's genius, " patient." He who has patience, coupled with energy, is sure, sooner or later, to obtain the results of genius ; he who has genius without patience and without energy (if, indeed, such genius be a thing possible) might as well have no genius at all. His works and aims, like the plants of Nature before the Deluge, are characterized by the slightness of their roots. Fortune is said to be blind, but her favourites never are. Ambition has the eye of the eagle, Prudence that of the l^'nx ; the first looks through the air, the last along the ground. The man who succeeds above his fellows is the one who, early in life, clearly discerns his object, and toward that object habitually directs his powers. Thus, indeed, even genius itself is but fine observation strength- ened by fixity of pui-pose. Every man who observes vigilantly and re- solves steadfastly grows unconsciously into genius. Assuming that fortune be your object, let your first eflforts be not for wealth, but independence. Whaterer be your talents, whatever your prospects, never be tempted to speculate away, on the chance of a palace, P"^ ON THE MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. 91 that which you need as a provision against the work-house. Youth is too apt to exclaim, " Aut Caesar aut nullus." But that saying was only for a Csesar ; and even for him it was not a wise one. To a Caesar there should have been no Aut. Nemesis sighed " Aut nullus" when Ciesar fell at the feet of the marble Pompey. A daring trader hazards the halter if he says " Rothschild or nothing;" a philosopher will end as a charlatan if he says " Aristotle or nothing ; " a gentleman who says " Sir Philip Sidney or nothing " is on the eve of be- coming a blackleg. The safe maxim is this : " The highest I can be, but on no account — nullus." Let your first care be, then, independence. Without pecuniary inde- pendence you are not even intellectually free ; with independence, even though it be gained through some occupation which you endure as a drud- gery, still, out of the twenty-four hours, there will be always some hours for the occupation in which you delight. This observation applies in fullest force to aspirants in literature. It is my cruel fate to receive no unfrequent communications from youths whose calling is that of the counter, whose tastes are those of Parnassus ; and the pitch of these unsolicited communications is invariably this : " I gain so many shillings a week by a vulgar and detestable trade ; but I have a soul above buttons. Head the MSS. I inclose. Do you not think there is some merit in them ? Could I not succeed as an author ? I have had disadvantages to encounter — so had Burns. I can not boast of a scholastic education : I have had very little leisure to educate myself ;. still " — et cetera, et cetera, all the et cetera involving the same question : " As I am unfit to be an apprentice, am I not fit to be an author ? Not having enough of human intelligence, perseverance, and energy to excel as a hatter, a tailor, a butcher, a baker, may I not be a Walter Scott or a Byron ? " Useless — I solemnly warn all such contingent correspondents as may now be looming ominously among other unwelcome clouds that menace my few holiday hours — useless to apply to me. Be the specimens of genius under difficulties thus volunteered to my eye good, bad, or indiffer- ent, my answer, as an honest man, can be only this , " Keep to the calling that assures you a something out of which you may extract independence until you are independent. Give to that calling all your heart, all your mind. If I were hatter, or tailor, or butcher, or baker, I should resolve to consider my calling the best in the world, and devote to it the best of my powers. Independence once won, then be Byron or Scott if you can.'* 92 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINEaS CYCLOPAEDIA. Independence ! independence ! the right and the power to follow the bent of your genius without fear of the bailiff and dun should be your first inflexible aim. To attain independence, so apportion your expendi- ture as to spQnd less than you have or you earn. Make this rule impera- tive. I know of none better. Lay by something every year, if it be but a shilling. A shilling laid by, net and clear from a debt, is a receipt in full for all claims in the past, and you go on with light foot and light heart to the future. " How am I to save and lay by ? " saith the author, or any other man of wants more large than his means. The answer is obvious : " If you can not increase your means, then you must diminish your wants." Every skilled labourer of fair repute can earn enough not to starve, and a surplus beyond that bare sufficiency. Yet many a skilled labourer suffers more from positive privation than the unskilled rural peasant. Why ? Because he encourages wants in excess of his means. A man of £300 a year, living up to that income, truly complains of pov- erty ; but if he live at the rate of £250 a year, he is comparatively rich. "" Oh," says Gentility, " but I must have this or that, which necessitates the yearly £50 you ask me to save — I must be genteel." Why that must ? That certain folk may esteem you ? Believe me, they esteem you much more for a balance at your banker's than for that silver teapot or that mannikin menial in sugar-loaf buttons. " But," says Parental AflFection, *' I must educate my boy ; that £50 saved from my income is the cost of his education." Is it so ? Can all the school-masters in Europe teach him a nobler lesson than that of a generous thrift, a cheerful and brave self-denial ? If the £50 be really the sum which the boy's schooling needs, and you can spare nothing else from your remaining £250, still save and lay by for a year, and during that year let the boy study at home, by seeing how gladly you all are saving for him. Then the next year the schooling is the present which you all — father, mother, and sister — by many slight acts of self-denial, have contrived to make to your boy. And if he be a boy of good heart, a boy such as parents so thoughtful nearly always rear, he will go to his school determined to make up to you for all the privations he has seen those he loves endure for his sake. You may tell me that practically it comes to the same thing, for the school goes on, and next yeai.* you must equally pinch for the £50. True ; but there is this mighty difference, you are a year in advance of the sum ; and, the habit of saving thus formed, you may discover something else that will bear a retrenchment. He who saves for one year finds the security, pleasure, and pride in it a luxury so great that his invention will be quick- ened to keep it. Lay by ! lay by ! What makes the capital of nations ? ON THE MANAGEMENT OP MONEY. 93 Savings ; nothing else. Neither nations nor men are safe against fortunes unless they can hit on a system by which they save more than they spend. When that system is once established, at what a ratio capital accumulates t What resources the system gradually develops I In that one maxim is the secret of England's greatness ! Do you think it mean to save more than you spend ? You do in that what alone gives your country its rank in the universe. The system so grand for an empire can not be mean for a citizen. Well, we have now added another rule to the canons prescribed to the Management of Money : save more than you spend. Whatever your means be, so apportion your wants that your means may exceed them. Every man who earns but ten shillings a week can do this if he please, whatever he may say to the contrary ; for if he can live upon ten shil- lings a week, he can live upon nine and elevenpence. In this rule mark the emphatic distinction between poverty and needi- ness. Poverty is relative, and therefore not ignoble ; Neediness is a positive degradation. If I have only £100 a year, I am rich as compared with the majority of my countrymen. If I have £5000 a year, I may be poor as compared with the majority of my associates, and very poor com- pared to my next-door neighbour. With either of these incomes I am relatively poor or rich ; but with either of these incomes I may be posi- tively needy, or positively free from neediness. With the £100 a year I may need no man's help ; I may at least have " my crust of bread and liberty." But with £5000 a year I may dread a ring at my bell ; I may have my tyrannical masters in servants whose wages I can not pay ; my exile may be at the fiat of the first long-sufiering man who enters a judgment against me ; for the flesh that lies nearest to my heart some Shylock may be dusting his scales and whetting his knife. Nor is this an exaggeration. Some of the neediest men I ever knew have a nominal £5000 a year. Every man is needy who spends more than he has ; no man is needy who spends less. I may so ill manage my money that, with £5000 a year, I purchase the worst evils of poverty — terror and shame ; I may so well manage my money that, with £100 a year, I purchase the best blessings of wealth — safety and respect, Man is a kingly animal. In every state which does not enslave him, it is not labour which makes him less loyally lord of himself — it is fear. " Rex est qui motuit nihil, £t hoc regnum sibi quisque det" Money is character — money also is power. I have power not in propor- tion to the money I spend on myself, but in proportion to the money 11: is i •*!fWWWI'JfPW!^^'^^ 94 THE HOME, FAEM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. I can, if I please, give away to another. We feel this as we advance in years. How helpless is an old man who has not a farthing to give or to leave ! But be moderately amiable, grateful, and kind, and though you have neither wife nor child, you will never want a wife's tenderness nor a child's obedience if you have something to leave or to give. This reads like satire ; it is sober truth. But now we arrive at the power of money well managed. You have got money — you have it ; and, with it, the i.eart, and the sense, and the taste to extract from the metal its uses. Talk of the power of knowledge ! What can knowledge invent that money can not purchase ? Money, it is true, can not give you the brain of the philosopher, the eye of the painter, the ear of the musician, nor that inner sixth sense of beauty and truth by which the poet unites in himself philosopher, painter, musician; but money can refine and exalt your existence with all that philosopher, painter, musician, poet, accomplish. That which they are your wealth can not make you, but that which they do is at the command of your wealth. You may collect in your libraries all thoughts which all thinkers have confided to books ; your galleries may teem with the treasures of art ; the air that you breathe may be vocal with music ; better than all, when you summon the Graces, they can come to your call in their sweet name of Charities. You can build up asylums for age, and academies for youth. Pining Merit may spring to hope at your voice, and " Poverty grow cheerful in your sight." Money well managed deserves, indeed, the apotheosis to which she was raised by her Latin adorers ; she is Diva Moneta — a goddess. I have said that he who sets out in life with the resolve to acquire money should place clearly before him some definite object to which the money is but the means. He thus sweetens privation and dignifies thrift. Money never can be well managed if sought solely through the greed of money for its own sake. In all meanness there is a defect of intellect as well as of heart. And even the cleverness of avarice is but the cunning of imbecility. The first object connected with money is the security for individual freedom — pecuniary independence. That once gained, whatever is surplus becomes the fair capital for reproductive adventure. Adhere but to this rule in every speculation, however tempting, preserve free from all hazard that which you require to live on without depending upon others. It is a great motive to economy, a strong safe-guard to conduct, and a wonderful stimulant to all mental power, if you can associate your toil for money with some end dear to your aflfections. I once knew a boy of good pp^w ON THE MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. 95 parts, but who seemed incorrigibly indolent. His father, a professional man, died suddenly, leaving his widow and son utterly destitute. The widow resolved to continue the education of her boy, however little he had hitherto profited by it — engaged herself as teacher at a school, and devoted her salary to her son. From that moment the boy began to work in good earnest. He saw the value of money in this world ; he resolved to requite his mother — to see her once more in a home of her own ; he distinguished himself at school ; he obtained, at the age of sixteen, an entry in a mercantile house. At the age of twenty his salary enabled him to place his mother in a modest suburban lodging, to which he came home every night. At the age of thirty he was a rich man, and, visiting him at his villa, I admired his gardens. He said to me, simply, " I have no taste for. flowers myself, but my mother is passionately fond of them. I date my first step in life from my resolve to find her a home ; and the invention in my business to which I owe my rise from clerk to partner could never have come into my brain, and been patiently worked out, if, night and day, I had not thought of my mother's delight in flowers." A common motive with a young man is an honest love for the girl whom he desires to win as his wife. Nay, if no such girl yet has been met on the earth, surely she lives for him in the cloudland of Fancy. Wedlock, and wedlock for love, is the most exquisite hope in the inner- most heart of every young man who labours ; it is but the profligate idlers who laugh at that sacred ideal. But it is only the peasant or mechanic who has the right to marry on no other capital than that which he takes from nature in sinews and thews. The man whose whole condition of being is in his work from day to day must still have his helpmate. He finds his helpmate in one who can work like himself if his honest industry fail her. I preach to the day-labourer no cold homilies from political economy. The happiness and morality of the working class necessitate early marriages ; and for prudent provision against the chances of illness and death there are benefit clubs and societies, which must stand in lieu of jointure and settlement. But to men of a higher grade in this world's social distinctions, Hymen must generally contrive to make some kind of compromise with Plutus., I grant that your fond Amaryllis would take your arm to the altar though you have not a coat to your back ; but Amaryllis may have parents who not unreasonably ask, " How, young Strephon, can you maintain our daughter ? and if your death demolish all those castles in the air which yoti are now building without brick and mortar, under what roof will she lay her head ? " 00 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. And suppose that no parents thus unkindly interpose between Amaryl- lis and you, still it is a poor return to the disinterested love of Ama- ryllis to take her, thoughtless child, at her word. Amaryllis proves her unselfish love ; prove yours, my friend Strephon. Wait — hope — strive ; her ring is on your finger ; her picture, though it be but a villainous photograph, hangs by your bedside ; her image is safe in the innermost fold of your heart. Wait till you can joyously say, " Come, Amaryllis, Plutus relaxes his frown ; here is a home which, if humble, at least is se- cure ; and if death suddenly snatch me away, here is no castle in air for my widow, Amaryllis shall never live upon alms ! " How your love will deepen and strengthen in that generous delay ; and with your love, how your whole nature, mental and moral, will deepen and strengthen ! Here, indeed, is an object for climbing the rough paths on to fortune ; and here the first friendly opposition of Plutus only serves to place upon surer foundations the blessings promised by Hymen. Constancy in love necessitates patience and perseverance in all efforts for fortune ; and with patience and perseverance, a man of fair average capa- cities is the master of fortune. But there are lessor objects than those I have defined as the most fre- quently coveted which lend a charm to the making of money. It is a motive to economy, and a dissuasion from many profitless fol- lies, to cherish early in life one favourite hobby, provided the hobby be sound and well-bred. The taste for books, and the desire to collect them, are no mean tests of a school-boy's career as man. One of the most distinguished personages in Europe, showing me his library — which is remarkable for its extent and its quality (it was formed on the principle of including all works that treat, directly or indirectly, on the human mind, and thus, necessarily includes almost every book worth reading) — said to me, " Not only this collection, but my social suc- cesses in life, I trace back to the first franc I saved from the cake shop to spend on the book-stall. When I was a young man, and received an in- vitation to a ball, not being then rich, I calculated what it would cost me in kid gloves and coach hire, and, refusing the ball, bought a book with the money. The books I bought I read : the books I read influenced my career." Perhaps this eminent person might have thought of the balls thus refused in his early youth when, being still young, he gave his own first ball as Prime Minister. But hobbies should be wives, not mistresses. It will not do to have more than one at a time. One hobby leads you out of extravagance ; a ON THE MANAGEMENT OF MONTilY. 07 team of hobbies you cannot drive till you are rich enough to find corn for them all. Few men are rich enough for that. In the management of money there are some things we do for show-^ wiaely if we can attbrd it. Money is station as well as character and power. In matters of show, it is better to have one decided success than fifty expensive failures. Better to have one first-rate pictu)-o in a modest drawing-room than fifty daubs in a pompous gallery. Better to have one handsome horse in a brougham than four screws in a drag. Better to give one pleasant tea party than a dozen detestable dinners. A man of very moderate means can generally afibrd one effect meant for show, as a requisite of station, which, of its kind, may not be sur- passed by a millionaire. Those who set the fashions in London are never the richest people. Good taste is intuitive with some persons, but it may be acquired by all who are observant. In matters of show, good taste is the elementary necessity: after good taste, concentration of purpose. With money as with genius, the wise master of his art says, " There is one thing I can do well ; that one thing I will do as well as I can," Money, like genius, is effective in proportion as it is brought to bear on one thing at a time. Money, like genius, may comprehend success in a hundred things, but still, as a rule, one thing at a time ; that thing must be completed or relinquished before you turn to another. For a young man of a gentleman's station and a cadet's income, the only show needed is that which probably pleases himself the most — the effect produced by his own personal appearance. Dress will therefore not un- reasonably, and by no means frivolously, demand some of his thoughts and much of his money. To the station of a young aspirant of fashion in the polite world, who is knoM^n not to be rich, it matters nothing what he pays for his lodging : he can always give his address at a club or hotel. No one cares how much or how little he pays for his dinner. No fine lady inquires if he calls at her house on foot or in a carriage. But society expects him to dress as much like a gentleman as if he were a young duke : and, fortunately, as young dukes nowadays do not wear gold lace and miniver, this is no unreasonable exaction on the part of society. A gentleman's taste in dress is, upon principle; the avoidance of all things extravagant. It consists in the quiet simplicity of exquisite neatness ; but as the neatness must be a neatness iu fashion, employ the best tailor ; pay him ready money, and, on the whole, you will find him the cheapest. Still, if a young man of the gay world means to do the best that he can for his person, and really does obtain a certain rank or repute should it be G ' ■ TST^^^'TPffp'^i*^, 98 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. only said of him that he is extremely well dressed, he will remember that no man in great capitals, without pre-eminent claims of fortune, birth, or beauty, ever really finds a place in haut ton without some cultivation of mind. All the men I have ever known who have lifted themselves into authority in the inner circles of fashion have been men of considerable in- tellectual accomplishment. They have either had wit or humour to a fine degree, or admirably strong sense and judgment, or keen penetration into character ; they have been, from qualities far below the surface, either charming or instructive companions. Mere dandies are but cut flowers in a bouquet — once faded, they can never reblossom. In the druwing-room, as every where else, Mind in the long-run prevails. And, oh, well-booted Achaian ! for all those substantial good things which money well managed commands, and which, year after year, as you advance in life, you will covet and sigh for, yon sloven, thick- shoed and with cravat awry, whose mind, as he hurries by the bow-win- dow at White's, sows each fleeting moment with thoughts which grow not blossoms for bouquets, but corn sheaves for garners, will, before he is forty, be far more the fashion than you ! He is commanding the time out of which you are fading. And time, oh, my friend ! is money. Time wasted can never conduce to money well managed. PROVEEBS, NEW AND OLD. Never sacrifice safety to large expected returns. Never make a loan on importunity. Never loan a borrowing friend more than you are willing to lose if he can't pay. Never speculate deeper than you are able to lose if you lose it all. Never borrow money to speculate with. Owe no man any thing. Be satisfi*^d with a moderate rent to a good tenant. Keep well insured, and watch your policy. Never consult a man on business who does not manage well his own. Avoid a second mortgage for a fresh loan. He that maketh haste to be rich is not wise. Poverty is no bar to marriage if both parties will work and save. The gods help those who help themselves — ^men or women. Qod promises nothing to idleness. A man must ask his wife if he may be rich. Little coins, like little drops of water, will fill a bucket. ^^^Tf"^ HOW TO PRESERVE YOUR HEALTH. 99 As we sow in temporal affairs we shall reap. Short settlements make long friendships. Fortunes are made by earnings and savings. Money easily gotten is soon spent. Money earned is money valued. It is easier to loosen up good property than to re-establish it. In discussing business disagreements keep cool. Less wisdom is required to make money than to keep it securely when made. ^0to t0 f rc0£rb€ goitr health. HE leading conditions essential to health may be thus enu- merated : — 1. A constant supply of pure air ; 2. A suffi- ciency of nourishing food, rightly taken ; 3. Cleanliness ; 4. A sufficiency of exercise to the various organs of the system ; 5. A right temperature ; 6. A sufficiency of cheer- ful and innocent enjoyments; and, 7. Exemption from harassing cares. AIE. The common air is a fluid composed mainly of two gases, in certain proportions ; namely, oxygen as twenty and nitrogen as eighty parts in a hundred, with a very minute addition of carbonic acid gas. Such is air in its pure and right state, and such is the state in which we require it for respiration. When it is loaded with any admixture of a different kind, or its natural proportions are in any way deranged, it cannot be breathed without producing injurious results. We also require what is apt to appear a large quantity of this element of healthy existence. The lungs of a healthy full-grown man, will inhale the bulk of twenty cubic inches at every inspiration, and he will use no less than fifty-seven hogsheads in twenty-four hours. Now, there are various circumstances which tend to surround us at times with vitiated air, and which must accordingly be guarded against. The first calling for attention is the miasma or noxious quality imparted MH H'^-'JW^'T"" T'FTT'^RSippiWPIflffPWP^^^ 100 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. to the air in certain districts by stagnant water and decayed vegetable matter. It is now generally acknowledged that this noxious quality is in reality a subtle poison, which acts on the human system through the medium of the lungs, producing fevers and other epidemics. Putrid matter of all kinds is another conspicuous source of noxious effluvia. The filth collected in ill-regulated towns — ill-managed drains — collections of decaying animal substances, placed too near or within private dwellings — are notable for ^eir effects in vitiating the atmosphere, and generating disease in those exposed to them. In this case also, it is a poison diffused abroad through the air which acts so injuriously on the human frame. The human subject tends to vitiate the atmosphe''e for itself, by the effect which it produces on the air which it breathes. Our breath, when we draw it in, consists of the ingredients formerly mentioned ; but it is in a very different state when we part with it. On passing into our lungs the oxygen, forming the lesser ingredient, enters into combination with the carbon of the venous blood (or blood which has already performed its round through the body) ; in this process about two-fifths of the oxygen is abstracted and sent into the blood, only the remaining three-fifths being expired, along with the nitrogen nearly as it was before. In place of the oxygen consumed, there is expired an equal volume of carbonic acid gas, such gas being a result of the process of combination just alluded to. Now, carbonic acid gas, in a larger proportion than that in which it is found in the atmosphere, is noxious. The volume of it expired by the lungs, if free to mingle with the air at large, will do no harm ; but, if breathed out into a close room, it will render the air unfit for being again breathed. Sup- pose an individual to be shut up in an air-tight box: each breath he emits throws a certain quantity of carbonic acid gas into the air filling the box ; the air is thus vitiated, and every successive inspiration is composed of worse and worse materials, till at length the oxygen is so much exhausted that it is insufficient for the support of life. He would then be sensible of a great difficulty in breathing, and in a little time longer he would die. Most rooms in which human beings live are not strictly close. The chimney and the chinks of the doors and windows generally allow of a communication to a certain extent with the outer air, so that it rarely happens that great immediate inconvenience is experienced in ordinary apartments from want of fresh air. But it is at the same time quite cer- tain that, in all ordinary apartments where human beings are assembled, the air unavoidably becomes considerably vitiated, for in such a situation there cannot be a sufficiently ready copious supply of oxygen to make up ■Ha^M^t^aLaai PWSf^ ■WOT «nnp^ .; , I u I 1(1 1«9 FOOD. 101 for that which has been consumed, and the carbonic acid gas will be con- stantly accumulating. This is particularly the case in bed-rooms, and in theatres, churches, and schools. Perhaps it is in bed-rooms that the most harm is done. These are gene- rally smaller than other rooms, and they are usually kept close during the whole night. The result of sleeping in such a room is very injurious. A common fire, from the draught which it produces, is very serviceable in ventilating rooms, but it is at best a defective means of doing so. The draught which it creates generally sweeps along near the floor between the door and the fire, leaving all above the level of the chimney-piece unpu- ritied. Yet scarcely any other arrangement is anywhere made for the pur- pose of changing the air in ordinary rooms. FOOD. The second requisite for the preservation of health is a suflScioncy of nutritious food. Organic bodies, in which are included vegetables as well as animals, are constituted upon the principle of a continual waste of substance supplied hxj continual nutrition. The Nutritive System of animals, from apparently the humblest of these to the highest, comprehends an alimentary tube or cavity, into which food is received, and from which, after undergoing certain changes, it is difiused by means of smaller vessels throughout the whole structure. In the form of this tube, and in the other apparatus connected with the taking of food, there are, in different animals, varieties of structure, all of which are res- pectively in conformity with peculiarities in the quality and amount of food which the particular animals are designed to take. The harmony to be observed in these arrangements is remarkably significant of that Crea- tive design to be craced in all things. Man Designed to Live on a Mixed Diet. — Some animals are formed to live upon vegetable substances alone ; others are calculated to live upon the flesh of other animals. Herbivorous animals, as the former are called, have generally a long and complicated alimentary tube, because the nutri- tious part of such food, being comparatively small in proportion to the whole bulk, requires a greater space in which to be extracted and absorbed into the system. The sheep, for example, has a series of intestines, twenty- seven times the length of its body. For the opposite reasons carnivorous or flesh-devouring animals, as the feline tribe of quadrupeds, and the rapa- cious birds, have generally a short intestinal canal. The former class of || Ml IIP HI U(!-lW|iH|i,f?'.'L'l!J'''iL''JJI'ff^^^^ . . ' m^i-wmm'^m^m^ i^pp^i^^^'^^PB^Pipi^w^^w^"^^^ 102 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. animals are furnished with teeth calculated by their broad and flat sur- faces, as well as by the lateral movement of the jaws in which they are set, to mince down the herbage and grain eaten by them. But the carnivorous animals, with wide-opening jaws, have long and sharp fangs to seize and tear their prey. These peculiarities of structure mark sufficiently the designs of nature with respect to the kinds of food required by the two diflFerent classes of animals for their support. The human intestinal canal being of medium length, and the human teeth being a mixture of two kinds, it necessarily follows that man was designed to eat both vegetable and animal food. As no animal can live agreeably or healthy except in conformity with the laws of its consti- tution, it follows that man will not thrive unless with a mixture of animal and vegetable food. The followers of Pythagoras argued, from the cruelty of putting animals to death, that it was proper to live on vegetables alone, and many eccentric persons of modern times have acted upon this rule. But the ordinances of Nature speak a different language ; and, if we have any faith in these, we cannot for a moment doubt that a mixture of animal food is necessary for our well-being. On the other hand, we cannot dis- pense with vegetable food, without injurious consequences. In that case we place in a medium alimentary canal, a kind of food which is calculated for a short one, thus violating an arrangement of the most important nature. A balance between the two kinds of food is what we should observe, if we would desire to live a natural and consequently healthy life. Rules Connected with Eating. — In order fully to understand how to eat, what to eat, and how to conduct ourselves after eating, it is necessary that we should be acquainted in some measure with the process of nutri- tion — that curious series of operations by which food is received and assi- milated by our system in order to make good the deficiency produced by waste. Foo ^ is first received into the mouth, and there the operations in ques- tion may be said to commence. It is there to be chewed (or masticated), and mixed with saliva, preparatory to its being swallowed or sent into the stomach. Even in this introductory stage, there are certain rules to be observed. Strange as it may appear, to know how to eat is a matter of very considerable importance. Many persons, thinking it all a matter of indifference, or perhaps unduly anxious to dispatch their meals, eat very fast. They tumble their meat precipitately into their mouths, and swallow it almost without masti- mmiim m^m ^^ FOOD. 103 cation. This is contrary to an express law of nature, as may be easily shown. Food, on being received into the mouth, has two processes to undergo, both very necessary to digestion. It has to be masticated, or chewed down, and also to receive an admixture of saliva. The saliva is a fluid arising from certain glands in and near the mouth, and approaching in character to the gastric juice afterward to be described. Unless food be well broken down or masticated, and also well mixed up with the salivary fluid, it will be difficult of digestion. The stomach is then called upon to do, beside its own proper duty, that which properly belongs to the teeth and saliva, a.nd it is thus overburdened and embarrassed, often in a very serious manner. The pains of indigestion are the immediate consequence, and more remote injuries follow. It is therefore to be concluded that a deliberate mastication of our food is conducive to health, and that fast eating is injurious, and sometimes even dangerous. The ^ood, having been properly masticated, is, by the action of the tongue, thrown into the gullet. It then descends into the stomach, not so much by its own gravity, as by its being urged along by the contractions and motions of the gullet itself. The stomach may be considered as an expansion of the gullet, and the chief part of the alimentary canal. It is, in fact, a membranous pouch or bag, very similar in shape to a bagpipe, having two openings, the one by which the food enters, the other that by which it passes out. It is into the greater curvature of the bag that the gullet enters ; it is at its lesser that it opens into that adjoining portion of the canal into which the half-digested mass is next propelled. When food has been introduced, the two orifices close, and that which we may term the second stage in the process of digestion commences. The mass, already saturated with saliva, and so broken down as to expose all its particles to the action of the gastric juice, is now submitted to the action of that fluid, which, during digestion, is freely secreted by the vessels of the stomach. The most remarkable quality of this juice is its solvent power, which is prodigious. The food exposed to this dissolving agency is converted into a soft, grey, pulpy mass, called chyme, which, by the muscular contraction of the stomach, is urged on into the adjoining part of the alimentary canal, called the duodenum. This is generally completed in the space of from half an hour to two or three hours ; the period varying according to the nature and volume of the food taken, and the mastication and iasalivation it has undergone. pf^ T^'r!^'^'^ww)j!^y!lP|piPB^[ff'"??>'TWP5T ^^^ipn ^^rjwWiWIw 104 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. In the duodenum, the chyme becomes intimately mixed and incorporated with the bile and pancreatic juice ; also with a fluid secreted by the mu- cous follicles of the intestine itself. The bile is a greenish, bitter, and somewhat viscid fluid, secreted by the liver, which occupies a considerable space on the right side of the body, immediately under the ribs. From this oi'gan the bile, after a portion of it has passed up into the adjacent gall- bladder, descends through a small duct, about the size of a goose-quill, into the duodenum. The chyme, when mixed with these fluids, undergoes a change in its appearance ; it assumes a yellow colour and bitter taste, owing to the predominance of the bile in the mass ; but its cliaracter varies according to the nature of the food that has been taken. Fatty matters, tendons, cartilages, white of eggs, etc., are not so readily converted into chyme as fibrous or fleshy, cheesy, and glutinous substances. The chyme, having undergone the changes adverted to, is urged by the peristaltic mo- tion of the intestines onward through the alimentary canal. This curious motion of the intestines is caused by the contraction of the muscular coat which enters into their structure, and one of the principal uses ascribed to the bile is that of stimulating them to this motion. If the peristaltic motion be diminished, owing to a deficiency of bile, then the progress of digestion is retarded, and the body becomes constipated. In such cases, calomel, the blue pill, and other medicines, are administered for the purpose of stimu- lating the liver to secrete the biliary fluid that it may quicken by its stim- lilating properties the peristaltic action. But this is not the only use of the bile : it also assists in separating the nutritious from the non-nutritious portion of the alimentary mass, for the chyme now presents a mixture of a fluid termed chyle, which is in reality the nutritious portion eliminated from the food. The chyme thus mixed with chyle arrives in the sihall in- testines, on the walls of which a series of exquisitely delicate vessels ram- ify in every direction. These vessels absorb or take up the chyle, leaving the rest of the mass to be ejected from the body. The chyle, thus taken up, is carried into little bodies of glands, where it is still further elaborated, acquiring additional nutritious properties ; after which, corresponding ves- sels, emerging from those glands, carry along the fluid to a comparatively large vessel, called the thoracic duct, which ascends in the abdomen along the side of the back-bone, and pours it into that sidr of the heart to which the blood that has already circulated through the body returns. Here the chyle is intimately mixed with, the blood, which fluid is now propelled into the lungs, where it undergoes, from being exposed to the action of the air we breathe, the changes necessary to render it again fit for circulation. It is in the lungs, therefore, that the process of digestion is completed ; the M mr-jm ^P<*»»^n»P"»i^^ ^m^^^mm FOOD. 105 blood has now acquired those nutrient properties from which it secrete* the new particles of matter adapted to supply the waste of the different textures of the body. When food is received into the stomach, the secretion of the gastric juice immediately commences ; and when a full meal has been taken, thi& secretion generally lasts for about an hour. It is a law of vital action, that when any living organ is called into play, there is immediately an increased flow of blood and nervous energy toward it. The stomach, while secreting^ its fluid, displays this phenomenon, and the consequence is, that the blood and nervous energy are called away from other organs. This is the cause of that chilliness at the extremities which we often feel after eating heartily. So great is the demand which the stomach thus makes upon the rest of the system, that, during and for some time after a meal, we are not in a condition to take strong exercise of any kind. Both body and mind are inactive and languid. They are so, simply because that which supports muscular and mental activity is concentrated for the time upon the organs of digestion. This is an arrangement of nature which a regard to health requires that we should not interfere with. We should indulge in the mus- cular and mental repose which is demanded: and this should last for not much less than an hour after every meal. In that time the secretion of gas- tric juice is nearly finished ; the new nutriment begins to tell upon the general circulation ; and we are again fit for active exertion. The conse- sequence of not observing this rule is very hurtful. Strong exercise, or mental application during or immediately after a meal, diverts the flow of nervous energy and of blood to the stomach, and the process of diges- tion is necessarily retarded or stopped. Confusion is thus introduced into the system, and a tendency to the terrible calamity of dyspepsia is perhaps established. For the same reason that repose is required after a meal, it is necessary, in some measure, for a little while before. At the moment when we have concluded a severe muscular task, such, for example, as a long walk, the flow of nervous energy and of circulation is strongly directed to the muscular system. It requires some time to allow this flow to stop and subside ; and till this takes place, it is not proper to bring the stomach into exercise, as the demand it makes when filled would not in that case be answered. Just 80 if we be engaged in close mental application, the nervous energy anti circulation being in that case directed to the brain, it is not right all at once to call another and distant organ into play ; some time is I'equired to allow of the energy and circulation being prepared to take the new direc- tion. It may, therefore, be laid down as a maxim, that, a short period of ^RU iM^i^ip^JWTWI.Jipi nwi.i^P^F 106 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA, repose, or at least of very light occupation, should be allowed before every vneal. Kinds of Food. — It has been shown by a reference to the structure of the human intestinal canal, that our food is designed to be a mixture of animal and and vegetable substances. Inquiries with respect to the comparative digestibility of different kinds of food, are perhaps chiefly of consequence to those in whom health has already been lost. To the sound and healthy it is comparatively of little consequence what kind of food is taken, provided that some variation is observed, and no excess committed as to quantity. Within the range of fish, flesh, and fowl, there is ample scope for a safe choice. There is scarcely any of the familiar aliments of these kinds, but, if plainly dressed, will digest in from two to four hours, and prove perfectly healthy. One rule alone has been pretty well ascertained, with respect to animal foods, that they are the more digestible the more minute and tender the fibre may be. They contain more nutriment in a given bulk than vegetable matters, and hence their less need for length of intestine to digest them. Yet it is worthy of notice, that between the chyle produced from animal ■and that from vegetable food, no essential distinction can be observed. Tendon, suet, and oily matters in general, are considerably less digest- ible than the ordinary fibre ; and these are aliments which should be taken sparingly. Pickling, from its effects in hardening the fibre, dimin- ishes the digestibility of meat. Dressed shell-fish, cheese, and some other a.nimal foods, are avoided by many as not sufficiently digestible. Farinaceous foods of all kinds — wheat, oaten, and barley bread, oaten porrage, sago, arrow-root, tapioca, and potatoes — are highly suitable to the human constitution. They generally require under two hours for diges- tion, or about half the time of a full mixed meal. The cottage children of Scotland, reared exclusively upon oaten porridge and bread, with potatoes a,nd milk, may be cited as a remarkable example of a class of human beings possessing in an uncommon degree the blessing of health. Green vegeta- bles and fruit, however softened by dressing, are less digestible, and less healthy as a diet. One important consideration here occurs. There is need for a certain bulk in our ordinary food. Receiving nutriment in a •condensed form and in a small space will not serve the purpose. This is because the organs of digestion are calculated for receiving our food nearly in the condition in which nature presents it, namely, in a considerable bulk with regard to its nutritions properties. Quantity of Food. — Number and Times of Meals. — With respect to the amount of food necessary for health, it is difficult to lay down any rule, FOOD. 107 as different quantities are safe with different individuals, according to their sex, age, activity of life, and some other conditions. The number and times of meals are other questions as yet undeter- mined. As the digestion of a meal rarely requires more than four hours, and the waking part of a day is about sixteen, it seems unavoidable that at least three meals be taken, though it may be proper that one, if not two of these, be comparatively of a light nature. Breakfast, dinner, and tea as a light meal, may be considered as a safe, if not a very accurate, pre- scription for the daily food of a healthy person. Certainly four good meals a day is too much. The interval between rising and breakfast ought not to be great, and no severe exercise or task-work of any kind should be undergone during this mterval. There is a general prepossession to the contrary, arising probably from the feeling of freedom and lightness which most people feel at that period of the day, and which seems to them as indicating a prepar- edness for exertion. But this feeling, perhaps, only arises from a sense of relief from that oppression of food under which much of the rest of the day is spent. It is quite inconsistent with all we know of the physiology of ali- ment, to suppose that the body is capable of much exertion when the sto- mach has been for several hours quite empty. We have known many per- sons take long walks before breakfast, under an impression that they were doing something extremely favourable to health. Others we have known go through three hours of mental taskwork at the same period, believing that they were gaining so much time. But the only observable result was to subtract from the powers of exertion in the middle and latter part of the day. In so far as the practice was contrary to nature, it would like- wise of course produce permanent injury. Only a short saunter in the open air, or a very brief application to business or task-work, can be safely indulged in before breakfast. With regard to the time for either breakfast or dinner, nothing can be said with scientific authority. Variety of Food. — A judicious variation of food is not only useful, but important. There are, it is true, some aliments, such as bread, which can- not be varied, and which no one ever wishes to be so. But apart from one or two articles, a certain variation of rotation is much to be desired, and will prove favourable to health. There is a common prepossession re- specting one dish, which is more spoken of than acted upon. In reality, there is no virtue in this practice, excepting that, if rigidly adhered to, it makes excess nearly impossible, no one being able to eat to satiety of one kind of food. There would be a benefit from both a daily variation of I ■\ 108 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiEDIA. food and eating of more than one dish at a meal, if moderation were in both cases to be strictly observed, for the relish to be thus obtained is use- ful as promotive of the flow of nervous energy to the stomach, exactly in the same manner as cheerfulness is useful. The policy which would make food in any way unpleasant to the taste, is a most mistaken one ; for to eat with languor, or against inclination, or with any degree of disgust, is to lose much of the benefit of eating. On the other hand, to cook dishes highly, and provoke appetite by artificial means, are equally reprehensi- ble. Propriety lies in the mean between the two extremes. Beverages. — The body containing a vast amount of fluids, which are undergoing a perpetual waste, there is a necessity for an occasional supply of liquor of some kind, as well as of solid food. It remains to be considered what is required in the character or nature of this liquor, to make it serve the end consistently with the preservation of health. When the digestion is good and the system in full vigour, the bodily energy is easily sustained by nutritious food, and " artificial stimulent onli/ increases the wasting of the natural strength." Nearly all physicians, in- deed, concur in representing ardent liquors as unfavourable to the health of the healthy, and as being in their excess highly injurious. Even the specious defence which has been set up for their use, on the ground that they would not have been given to man ii they had not been designed for general use, has been shown to be ill-founded, seeing that vinous fermenta- tion, from which they are derived, is not a healthy condition of vegetable matter, but a stage in its progress of decay. Upon the whole, there can be little doubt that these liquors are deleterious in our ordinary healthy condition ; and that simple water, toast water, whey, ginger beer, or lemon- ade, would be preferable (the first being the most natural and the best of allj, if we could only consent to deny ourselves further indulgence. OLEAITLINESS. To keep the body in a cleanly condition is the third important requisite for health. This becomes necessary in consequence of a very important process which is constantly going on near and upon the surface of the body. The process in question is that of perspiration. The matter here con- cerned is a watery secretion produced by glands near the surface of the body, and sent up through the skin by channels imperceptibly minute and wonderfully numerous. From one to two pounds of this secretion is believed to exude through these channels or pores in the coiirse of twenty-four hours, being in fact the chief form taken by what is called the CLEANLINESS. 109 waste of the system, the remainder passing off by the bowels, kidneys, and lungs. To promote the egress of this fluid is of great consequence to health ; for when it is suppressed, disease is apt to fall upon some of the other organs concerned in the discharge of waste. Qne of the most notable checks which perspiration experiences is that produced by a current of cold air upon the skin, in which case the pores instantly contract and close, and the individual is seized with some ailment either in one of the other organs of waste, whichever is in him the weak- est, or in the internal lining of some part of the body, all of which is sym- pathetic with the condition of the skin. A result of the nature of that last described is usually recognised as a cold or catarrh. We are not at present called on particularly to notice such effects of checked perspiration, but others of n leas immediately hurtful or dangerous nature. The fluid alluded to is composed, besides water, of certain salts and ani- mal matters, which, being solid, do not pass away in vapour, as does the watery part of the compound, but rest on the surface where they have been discharged. There, if not removed by some artificial means, they form a layer of hard stuff, and unavoidably impede the egress of the cur- rent perspiration. By cleanliness is merely meant the taking proper means to prevent this or any other matter accumulating on the surface, to the production of certain hurtful consequences. Ablution or washing is the best means of attaining this end ; and ac- cordingly it is well for us to wash or bathe the body very frequently. Many leave by far the greater part of their bodies unwashed, except, per- haps, on rare occasions, thinking it enough if the parts exposed to common view be in decent trim. If the object of cleaning were solely to preserve fair appearances, this might be sufficient ; but the great end, it must be clearly seen, is to keep the skin in a fit state for its peculiar and very im- portant functions. Frequent change of the clothing next to the skin is of course a great aid to cleanliness, and may partly be esteemed as a substi- tute for bathing, seeing that the clothes absorb much of the impurities, and, when changed, may be said to carry these off'. But still this will not serve the end nearly so well as frequent ablution of the whole person. Any one will be convinced of this, who goes into a bath, and uses the flesh- brush in cleansing his body. The quantity of scurf and impurity which he will then remove, from even a body which has changes of linen once a day, will surprise him. M rm mmf no THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. EXERCISE The constitution of external nature shows that man was destined for an active existence, as, without labour, scarcely any of the gifts of providence are to be made available. In perfect harmony with this character of the material world, he has been furnished with a muscular and mental system, constructed on the principle of being fitted for exertion, and requiring ex- ertion for a healthy existence. Formed as he is, it is not possible for him ta abstain from exertion without very hurtful consequences. Muscular Exercise. — With regard to merely bodily exercise, it is to be observed, in the first place, that we have no fewer than four hundred muscles, each designed to serve some particular end in locomotion or in operating -upon external objects. A sound state of body depends very much upon each of these muscles being brought into action in proper cir- cumstances and to a suitable extent. There is even a law operating within a certain range, by which each muscle will gain in strength and soundness by being brought into a proper degree of activity. The process of waste and renovation may be said to be always going on in the body, but it does not go on with permanent steadiness unless the muscular system be exercised. Whenever one of the organs is put into exertion, this process becomes active, and the two operations of which it consists maintain a due proportion to each other. A greater flow of blood and of nervous energy is sent to the organ, and this continues as long as it is kept in activity. When one state of action follows close upon ano- ther, the renovating part of the process rather exceeds the waste, and an accretion of new substance, as well as an addition of fresh power takes place. On the contrary, when an organ is little exercised, the process of renovation goes on languidly, and to a less extent than that of waste, and the parts consequently become flabby, shrunken, and weak. Even the bones are subject to the same laws. If these be duly exercised in their business of administering to motion, the vessels which pervade them are fed more actively with blood, and they increase in dimeasions, solidity, and strength. If they be little exercised, the stimulus required for the supply of blood to them becomes insufiicient ; imperfect nutrition takes place ; and the consequences are debility, softness, and unfitness for their office. Bones may be so much softened by inaction, as to become suscep- tible of being cut by a knife. In a less degree, the same cause will pro- duce languor and bad health. It is of the utmost importance to observe, that the exercise of any par- ticular limb does little besides improving the strength of that limb ; and ■^mm EXERCISE. Ill that, in order to increase our general strength, the whole frame must be brought into exercise. In order, then, to maintain in a sound state the energies which nature has given us, and still more particularly, to increase their amount, we must exercise them. If we desire to have a strong limb, we must exercise that limb ; if we desire that the whole of our frame should be sound and strong, we must exercise the whole of our frame. It is mainly by these means that health and strength are to be preserved and improved. There are rules, however, for the application of these laws of our being. 1. In order that exercise may be truly advantageous, the parts must be in a state of sufficient health to endure the exertion. In no case must ex- ercise be carried beyond what the parts are capable of bearing with ease ; otherwise a loss of energy, instead of a gain, will be the consequence. 2. Exercise, to be efficacious, even in a healthy subject, must be excited, sustained, and directed by that nervous stimulus which gives the muscles the principal part of their strength, and contributes so much to the nutri- tion of parts in a state of activity. 3. The waste occasioned by exercise must be duly replaced by food ; as, if there be any deficiency in that important requisite, the blood will soon cease to give that invigoration to the parts upon which increased health and strength depend. Kinds of Bodilf Exercise. — Exercise is usually considered as of two kinds — active and passive. The active consists in walking, running, leap- ing, riding, fencing, rowing, skating, swimming, dancing, and various exer- cises, such as those with the poles, ropes, &c., prescribed in gymnastic in- stitutions. The passive con.sists in carriage-riding, sailing, friction, swing- ing, &c. Walking is perhaps the readiest mode of taking exercise, and the ore most extensively resorted to. If it brought the upper part of the body as thoroughly into exertion as the lower, it would be perfect, for it is gentle and safe with nearly all except the much debilitated. To render it the more effectual in the upper part of the body it were well to walk at all times, when convenient, singly and allow the arms and trunk free play. It is best to walk with a companion, or for some definite object, as the flow of nervous energy will be by these means promoted, and the exercise be rendered, as has been already explained, the more serviceable. Very long or rapid walks should not be attempted by individuals of sedentary habits, nor by weakly persons. Their frames are totally unpre- pared for such violent exertion. ■tss 112 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.^.DIA. Running is an exercise which is intermediate between walking and leaping ; it consists, in fact, of a series of leaps performed in progression from one foot to another, and the degree of its rapidity bears a constant proportion to the length of the individual and successive leaps. Althougli this and other gymnastic exercises, such as leaping, wrestling, throwing heavy weights, etc., may, when judiciously had recourse to, invigorate the body, yet, fi'om apprehension of the evils and accidents which may be so occasioned, young persons ought not to be permitted to engage extensively in such exercises, except under the care of some one well acquainted with gymnastics. Fencing is of all activ* exercises that which is the most commendable, inasmuch as it throws open the chest, and dt the same time calls into ac- tion the muscles both of the upper and lower extremities. Add to this, that it improves very much the carriage of the body ; for which reason it may be reckoned a branch of polite education. Dancing is exhilarating and healthful, and seems to be almost the only active exercise which the despotic laws of fashion permit young ladies to enjoy. Riding is generally classed among the passive exercises, but in reality it is one which involves much action of the whole frame, and as such is very useful for health. Pursued solitarily, it has the drawback of being somewhat dull ; but, when two or three ride in company, a sufficient flow of the nervous energy may be obtained. The amount of bodily exercise which should be taken must vary accord- ing to the habits, strength, and general health of the individual. It was an aphorism of Boerhaave, that every person should take at least two hours' exercise in the day, and this ma}'^ be regarded as a good general rule. Mental Exercise. — Having thus explained the laws and regulations by which exercise may be serviceable to the physical system, we shall pro- ceed to show that the same rules hold good respecting the mental facul- ties. These, as is generally allowed, however immateriii in one sense, are connected organically with the brain — a portion of the animal system nourished by the same blood, and regulated by the same vital laws, as the muscles, bones, and nerves. As, by disuse, mu.scle becomes emaciated, bone softens, blood-vessels are obliterated, and nerves lose their natural structure, so, by, disuse, does the brain fall out of its proper state, and create misery to its pos.'!| ranged effects 1 the mei exercise or habii mind hi depend( And, in to be st Itou^ ture are that per mind, w to too g intimate of the m system ) it ought ber of h( applicati be attem digestior share of soundnej a severe establish great poi Repos casional ] twenty-f( occupatic weakness confused, mental fa state of u closing ( dormant ; pose then limbs hai those thai EXERCISE. 113 ranged and destroyed. The processes are physiologically the same, and the effects bear an exact relation to each other. As with the bodily powers, the mental are to be increased in magnitude and energy by a degree of exercise measured with a just regard-to their ordinary health and native or habitual energies. Corresponding, moreover, to the influence which the mind has in giving the nervous stimulus so useful in bodily exercise, is the dependence of the mind upon the body for supplies of healthy nutriment. And, in like manner with the bodily functions, each mental faculty is only to be strengthened by the exercise of itself in particular. It ought to be universally known, that the uses of our intellectual na- ture are not to be properlj'^ realized without a just regard to the laws of that perishable frame with which it is connected ; that, in cultivating the mind, we must neither overtask nor undertask the body, neither push it to too great a speed, nor leave it iieglected ; and that, notwithstanding this intimate connection and mutual dependence, the highest merits on the part of the mind will not compensate for muscles mistreated, or soothe a nervous system which severe study has tortured into insanity. To come to detail, it ought to be impressed on all, that to spend more than a moderate num- ber of hours in mental exercise diminishes insensibly the powers of future application, and tends to abbreviate life ; that no mental exercise should be attempted immediately after meals, as the processes of thought and of digestion cannot be safely prosecuted together ; and that, without a due share of exercise to tho whole of the mental faculties, there can be no soundness in any, while the whole corporeal system will give way beneath a severe pressure upon any one in particular. These are truths completely established with physiologists, and upon which it is undeniable that a great portion of human happiness depends. Repose, a Condition Demanded by Exercise. — Exercise demands oc- casional periods of repose, and, in particular, that a certain part of every twenty-four hours be spent in sleep, After having been engaged in daily occupations for fourteen or sixteen hours, a general feeling of fatigue and weakness is induced ; the motions of ihe body become diflficult, and senses confused, the power of volition or will suspended, and the rest of the mental faculties, becoming more and more inactive, sink at length into a state of unconsciousness. The sense of sight first ceases to act by the closing of the eyelids; then the senses of taste and smell become dormant ; and then those of hearing and touch. The muscles, also, dis- pose themselves with a certain reference to ease of position, those of the limbs having grown indolent before those that support the head, and those that support the head before those of the trunk. In proportion as 114 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.'EDIA. these phenomena proceed, the respiration becomes slower and more deep, the circulation diminishes in impetus, the blood proceeds in great quantity towards the head, and all the functions of the internal organs become retarded. In this state, shut out as it were from the external world, the mind still retains its wonted activity, deprived, however, of the guid- ance of judgment and the power of distinct recollection ; in consequence of which, it does not perceive the monstrous incongi'uities of the imagery which sweeps before it, and takes but faint cognizance of the time which elapses. It may be laid down as an axiom, that the more uninterrupted sleep is, the more refreshing and salutary will be its effects ; for during this period the body undoubtedly acquires an accession of nervous energy, whicli restlessness, however induced, must disturb ; and therefore the state of the body before going to sleep, the kind of bed, and the manner of cloth- ing require especial attention. As the functions of the body are performed more slowly during our sleeping than our waking hours, a full meal or supper, taken immediately before going to bed, imposes a load on the otomach which it is not in a condition to digest, and the unpleasant con- sequence of oppressive and harassing dreams is almost certain to ensue. When the sleeper lies on his back, the heart pressing, while pulsating, on the lungs, gives rise to a sense of intolerable oppression on the chest, which seems to bear down upon the whole body, so that in this painful state not a muscle will obey the impulse of the will, and every effort to move appears to be altogether \inavailing. This constitutes incubus or nightmare : and it may be observed, that, as acidity on the stomach, or indigestion gives rise to such dreams, so all dreams of this disturbed char- acter are converse indications of indigestion ; for which reason the great physiologist Haller considered dreaming to be a symptom of disease. The kind of bed on which we repose requires attention. Some are advocates for soft, others for hard beds ; hence some accustom themselves to feather-beds, others to mattresses. The only difference between a soft and hard bed is this — that the we%ht of the body in a soft bed presses on a larger surface than on a hard bed, and thereby a greater degree of comfort is enjoyed. Parents err in fancying that a very hard bed contributes to huden the constitution of their children ; for which reason they lay them down on mattresses, or beds with boarded bottoms. A bed for young children cannot be too soft, provided the child does not sink into it in such a manner that the surrounding parts of the bed bend over and cover the body. The too great hardness of beds, says Dr. Durwin, frequently proves injurious to the shape of infants, by causing them to rest on too TEMPERATURE. 115 few parts at a tiAe ; it also causes their sleep to be uneasy and unrefresh- ing. Whatever be the time chosen for sleep, it is evident that no person can with impunity convert day into night. Eight o'clock for children and eleven for adults, may be recommended as good hours for retiring to rest. It is well known that children require more sleep than adults ; and more sleep is requisite in winter than in summer. The average duration of sleep which may be recommended for adults is eight hours ; but much depends upon habit, and many persons require only six. It is scarcely necessary to observe, that, on rising in the morning, the strictest attention should be paid to washing the face, neck and hands ; the mouth and teeth should also be well cleansed. The most simple powder for the teeth is finely brayed charcoal, a little of which will clear away all impurities, and preserve the teeth. On leaving the bedroom, the windows should be opened, and the clothes of the bed turned down, it order that the exhala- tions of the body during sleep may be dissipated. If, instead of this, the bed be made immediately after we have risen, these exhalations are again folded up with the clothes — a practice which is not consonant either with cleanliness or with health. TEMPEEATUEE. The fifth important requisite for health is that the body be kept in a temperature suitable to it. The degree of heat indicated by sixty degrees of Fahrenheit's ther- mometer, or that of a temperate summer day, is what the human body finds it agreeable to be exposed to when in a state of inactivity. There is no period of life at which warmth is of more consequence than in infancy. In a very young babe, the circulation is almost altogether confined to the surface, the internal organs being as yet in a very weak state. In such circumstance, to plunge the child into cold water, from an idea of making it hardy, as is customary in some countries, and among ignorant persons in our own, is the height of cruelty and folly ; for the unavoidable consequence is, that the blood is thrown in upon the internal organs, and inflammation, bowel-complaints, croup, or convulsions, are very apt to ensue. A baby requires to be kept at a temperature above what is suitable to a grown person ; it should be warmly, but not heavily clothed ; the room where it is kept should be maintained at a good, but not oppressive heat ; and it should never be put into other than tepid water. It should not be exposed to the open air for some days after its birth. tisA' lie THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. At all periods of life it is most desii*able to avoid exposure to very low temperatures, especially for any considerable length of time. To sit long in cold school-rooms, or work-rooms, with the whole body, and especially the feet, in a chilled condition, is very unfavourable to the health of young people. Clothing should be in proportion to the temperature of the climate and the season of the year ; and where there are such abrupt transitions from heat to cold as in our country, it is not safe ever to go very thinly clad, as we may in that case be exposed to a sudden chill before we can effect the proper change of dress. Very fatal effects often result to ladies from incautiously stepping out of heated rooms in the imperfect clothing which they ludicrously style /itW-(?ress; all such injuries might be avoided by putting on a suflSciency of shawls, and allowing themselves a little time in the lobby to cool. The under-clothing in this country should be in- variably of flannel, which is remarkably well calculated to preserve uni- formity of temperature, as well as to produce a healthy irritation in the skin. Wet clothes applied to any part of the body, when it is in an inactive state, have an instantaneous effect in reducing the temperature, this being an unavoidable effect of the process of evaporation which then takes place. Hence it is extremely dangerous to sit upon damp ground, or to remain at rest a single minute with wetted feet, or any other part of the body invested in damp garments. Dampness in the house in which we live has the same effect, and is equally dangerous. The chill produced by evaporation from the wetted surface checks the perspiration, and sends the blood inward to the vital parts, where it tends to produce inflammatory disease. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. The fundamental principle of all efforts to improve and preserve health has been thus rtated : " Man, as an organized being, is subject to organic laws, as much as the inanimate bodies which surround him are to laws mechanical and chemical ; and we can as little escape the consequences of neglect or violation of those natural laws, which affect orgamc life through the air we breathe, the food we eat, and the exercise we take, as a stone projected from the hand, or a shot from the mouth of a cannon, can place itself beyond the bounds of gravitation." It may be added, that " all human science, all the arts of civilized man, consist of discoveries made by us of the laws impressed upon nature by the Author of the universe. miLDREN, AND HOW TO REAR THEM. 117 and the applications of those laws to the conditions — which are laws also —in which man and the particular bodies and substances around him are placed ; nor, it is manifest, should science concern us more than that which relates to the conditions on which organic life is held by each in- dividual." Chilbr^n, anb ^oto to ^mx Wxtnt T is a well-known fact that some of the greatest blessings we enjoy are the least appreciated, and this may be truly said of light. We are so accustomed to it that we fail to re- member its importance, though did we but recollect that it is synonymous with life, we could not fail to be sensible of the inestimable value of this essential of our being. Deprived of its wholesome and enlivening stimulus, child- ren become pale and sickly in appearance, the blood is im- perfectly oxygenated, and a proneness to disease or debility immediately arises. A dark, dull room, or one from which light is more or less excluded, should by all means be avoided, for it is injurious alike to the eyes, health and spirits of children. But necessary as light is (it is the natural food of the eye), it requires regulating according to the age. During early infancy the eyes should not be exposed to a concentrated or strong light ; the sun's light should be softened by window blinds, and an infant ought never to be held too near a lamp or candle. The best arguments in favour of the beneficial effects of light are found in the facts that nearly the whole of the vegetable kingdom will cease to flourish if deprived of it, and that those children brought up in the dreary dark slums of cities, although quite as well fed as those of an agricultural labourer, are invariably puny, sickly creatures, without a vestige of colour in their cheeks. The pernicious custom which obtains so much amongst the lower and middle classes in the suburbs of living almost entirely in the basement breakfast-room cannot be too strongly condemned, where, as is invariably the case, it is dark. The room that is most in use should be " the best n ■ ■ ji«pi'»»ppinT' 118 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. room," not on account of the amount of furniture it contains, but owing to its being the lightest, and into this room the sun should be allowed to freely enter, all ideas of excluding it on account of the carpet being but false economy. Notwithstanding, however, that a proper amount of light is necessary for a child when awake, equal care should be exercised in darkening the room when]^it^(the child) is asleep, as too much light then will not merely prevent or interrupt sleep, but may act as a very injurious stimulus to the eyes and brain. It goes without saying that the nursery must, of course, have plenty of sunlight, and with this view should face the south, east or west, but there is another place about which great care sliould be taken — the school-room. There is no doubt that the influence of a sunless school-room is most baneful to a young mind, and the want of interest in their study, often displayed by children, might in many instances be traced to this cause. BATHING. Macbeth's maxim, " If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly," is especially applicable to the bathing of children. There should be no nonsense about it. The object of bathing is not only for the purpose of cleanliness i)ut as a means of invigorating the capillary circulation, and so fortifying the system as to enable it to resist atmos- pheric vicissitudes. To do this, however, it is imperative that the child should not remain in the bath (presuming it is not warm) more than a minute or two, as when the body is immersed in water below ninety degrees there is a sen- sation of cold, a shrinking of the skin, and a rush of blood from the small capillary vessels of the surface to the internal vessels, which state of things should be speedily followed by a reaction by the heart and large vessels forcing the blood back again to the surface, and indeed to all tlie outlets ; so that the skin glows and perhaps perspires, the secretory organs act more strongly, the liver and other organs show an increased activity, and there is a general feeling of liveliness and vigour. But this will not be the case if there is any dawdling or delay, not only while in the water, but during the process of rubbing and drying, which must be performed with the greatest briskness, in order that the proper reaction, upon which the virtue of the bath depends, should take place : otherwise the child will get a chill, which will, in addition to nullifying the good, do it absolute harm. Up to the age of three months infants should, in all weathers, be bathed in warm water, but, after that age, at the warm seasons, and dur- SLEEP. 119 ing Summer, cold may be used, provided the child be strong enough, and is not frightened, but if the experiment is attended with convulsive screaming and great distress, discontinue it and substitute a warmer tem- perature. In washing a very young child the head should always be the first part damped, and a flannel is preferable for that purpose rather than a sponge. With regard to all children there are not two opinions on the subject of a daily bath given immediately on rising being beneficial, in fact it is ii sine qua non of perfect health, provided, of course, the child is not too delicate, and for the elder ones a large sponge is a necessity, as by its use a much larger quantity of oxygen can be introduced into the skin than by any other means. The addition of sea-salt is a most desirable adjunct, especially when the hips are weak, but even when in good health its occasional use will add greatly to the tonic properties of the bath. It should be added in such quantity to a bath that the mineral ingredient is equal to that contained in salt water ; it will be far more eflicacious than a simple fresh water bath, as it combines the advantages of temperature with the stimu- lating action of the salt upon the skin. The advantages of such a bath, taken at the time mentioned, are two- fold. It inures the body to a greater degree of cold than it is likely to be exposed to during the rest of the day, and so proves most serviceable in protecting it from atmospheric influences ; and it tends to remove irregularities in the circulation, and, by exciting the healthy action of the skin, may aid that organ in removing disease. All, however, are not strong enough to stand the shock to the system, and not only those who are extremely weak, or who have any organic disease, especially the heart or lungs, but there may be some idiosyncrasy or condition of the constitution peculiar to the individual which would render it impossible. The invariable test is that if after a bath the child remains chilly, languid and dejected, or sufiers from headache, then it is not beneficial, but if the sense of cold rapidly passes off" and a glow of warmth and animation of spirits succeeds and continues for some time, the cold bath cannot fail to be productive of good. SLEEP. Although much has been written, and rightly so, on the subject of lazi- ness, there is as much, if not more, to be said on the necessity of enough sleep, for it is as great a necessity as eating and drinking. '-jmm 120 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Infants sleep almost continually, and (in this we know most mothers will heartily concur) they cannot sleep too much, owing to the necessity for providing the materials for growth. When they are unable to sleep for any length of time their condition is unnatural, and shows us that they are suffering in some way or other, the cause of which should be ascertained and removed ; but not by the use of syrups, elixirs, etc., which though they produce slumber, do not produce sleep. For young children from twelve to fourteen hours' sleep is necessary, and this must be regular; the proper time for bed during the Winter months being about six o'clock, and in the Summer months about seven. A proper desire for sleep is only obtained by a due amount of exercise, both mental and physical, which must not have continued sufficiently long to produce prostration. Exercise in moderatiom is most necessary before going to bed, but anything of a violent nature, like romping, should be avoided for at least half an hour before. With regard to the hour at which children and others should rise, that must be determined by the time of their waking, and in order to wake at a proper time all that is necessary is that you go to bed at some regular early hour, and then, says fl,n authority, " within a fortnight nature, with almost the regularity of the rising sun, will unloosen the bonds of sleep the moment enough repose has been secured for the wants of the system." To remain in bed after this, to indulge in that short morning doze into which to many allow themselves to fall because it is not, they think, quite time to get up, is a baneful practice. Care should be taken with regard to the quantity of bed-clothes in- dulged in, too much clothing having the effect of relaxing the body, and it is right therefore to have only sufficient to enable the individual to sleep, for it is better to wake with an inclination to draw the clothes round you than so feel oppressed by their weight and heat and a desire to throw them off. With regard to the proper position of a sleeper all ar^ agreed that it should be on the right or left side, because if you sleep oa your back, especially soon after a hearty meal, the weight of the digestive organs and that of the food, resting upon the great vein of the body, near the backbone, compresses it, and arrests the flow of the blood more or less. If the arrest is partial, the sleep is disturbed, and there are unpleasant dreams, a state of things carefully to be avoided when we remember that "the man who dreams does but half sleep. The child who dreams scarcely sleeps at all." ON CATCHING COLD. 121 Too MUCH ATTENTION Cannot be paid to the proper ventilation of sleep- ing-rooms. In too many cases this important subject is entirely neglected. The sleeper'retires to rest in an apartment from which every effort has been made to exclude the outer air — until it seems almost hermetically sealed — and rises with a dull headache, and a feverish, unref reshed sensa- tii)n to go about the duties of the day. ON CATCHING COLD. It is a very common, but a very great, mistake to attach little import- ance to catching cold. How frequently we hear the remark in reference to some one being indisposed, "Oh, it's nothing; only a severe cold." Con- sidering that in adults severe cold is the cause of one-half " the ills that flesh is heir to," it will readily be understood that colds with children are of the greatest consequence, for, in the language of one whose name is the synonym for nursing, " It is as easy to put out a sick baby's life as it is to put out the flame of a candle." The most common kind of a cold is that in the head, professionally described as catarrh, which consists of inflammation of the mucous mem- brane of the air passages, and is ordinarily caused by the child having been exposed to a draught, having got its clothes wet and not been able to have them changed, or by not being sufficiently warmly clad when the body is getting cool after being heated. The latter is the most to be feared, as in this condition the body is incapable, from exhaustion, of reaction, and the exposure intensifies the depression. Wet clothing does not frequently produce " a cold " if the child is walking or running about, and is able to get the things changed when the active exercise ceases, and avoids all exposure for some little time ; but where exertion has been indulged in, and the body is in a state of perspir- ation, then, if the child receives a chill from wet feet or any other cause, and does not continue its play or its excessive exercise, catarrh is almost inevitable. When it is remembered that a neglected cold sometimes produces bron- chitis, pneumonia, quinsy, rheumatism, erysipelas, toothache, neuralgia, inflammatory fever, consumption, etc., it is scarcely possible to impress upon mothers too strongly the great necessity for extreme care in this matter; and as prevention should be much more easy when the cause of a complaint is understood, I propose to try and explain in as simple lan- guage as possible the why and wherefore. 122 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. The action of cold is to partially close the pores of the skin, clieck the natural perspiration by constricting and obstructing the vessels of the skin, and so throw more blood inwardly, producing internal cbngestions ; for the outer skin being incapable of performing its functions, and per- spiration being an absolute necessity, the inner skin, or mucous membrano, has to do the work, and hence the inflammation. The effect of cold is felt to a greater or less degree according to the capillary circulation. If this be weak, or be rendered so by excitement, ex- ercise, or by sleep, the danger is increased ; consequently children — and any one else, for matter of that — are most susceptible to cold when com- ing out of a hot room, after being unduly heated by running, or when sleeping. From this it will be understood that the chilling influences enumerated derange the balance of the circulation, and by determining a correspond- ing amount of congestion inwardly, fix it in some part previously weak- ened and made susceptible to disease ; or, in still plainer language, the cold flies to the weakest part, which accounts for one person getting rheumatism, another congestion of the lungs, a third a sore throat, and n fouith, perhaps merely a cold in the head or chest. To cure a cold is to restore the action of the skin and induce perspir- ation, and this, if done at the proper time, when the symptoms are first observed, is exceedingly simple. People may sneer as they will at the mention of the word gruel, but a basin-full of hot gruel, made thin, and taken when in bed, will invariably arrest an ordinary catarrh. If the chill be severe, the child's feet should be placed in warm water, a little extra clothing be placed on the bed, and the patient allowed to lie in bed a little longer than usual the next morning ; but the apartment must not be too warm or close, or the additional clothing be too great, as, though the cure may be accelerated thereby, the susceptibility is increased, and the child rendered more liable to a recurrence of the attack. To those who will not believe in anything old-fashioned or simple, the plan of a " wet sheet pack" will be found equally efficacious. This is managed by spreading three blankets on the bed and putting on on the top a sheet, which has been saturated in hot water and wrung out. The child is then placed upon the sheet, enveloped in it, and the blankets wrapped tightly around the whole body excepting the head, and allowed to remain in this situation for about an hour, when a a quick sponging of cold water should be given, followed by a brisk and thorough rubbing with dry towels. wfki* tep:thino. 123 Another remedy believed in by many of our medical brethren ia the "dry" plan, which, at any rate, has the merit of Himplicity, for it consists in merely abstaining from every kind of liquid until the disorder is gone. Although opinions mny differ, however, as to the precise method of cure, and any of those given will be found equally efficient, there is no differ- ence of opinion as to the cause and prevention. The too frequent cause is simply the result of carelessness or imprudence in not protecting the body against the variation of temperature, an insufficient use of cold or warm water to the body, or plainly, uncleanliness, sleeping under too much clothing, or by sleeping in badly-ventilated rooms ; but the first mentioned, the passing from a hot room out into the open air, or into a room where the temperature is less, without being suitably attired, is the most frequent and the most to be guarded against with children. The prevention of cold is best achieved by diminishing the susceptibil- ity of the system by abstemious living, taking regular and daily exercise in the open air, and a morning bath of cold water if the child be strong enough, and if not, a tepid one; but the best prevention and cure for colds is " the cold water cure." TEETHIN&. is one of the most distressing of the ordinary ailments of children, for it comes to them at an age when they are incapable of making the nature of their sufferings known, and as they do suffer most acutely sometime* during the process of dentition, it is very trying to mothers and nurses to have to witness their torture and be unable to alleviate it because the poor little mites cannot explain their symptoms. Being one of the very common ills that flesh is heir to, it is a time fre- quently regarded by some as more troublesome than important — a great mistake, to prevent which a simple statement showing the action of one of the phases of the disease may be advisable. The chief disorders of the first set of teeth are caries and inflammation in the periosteal membranes, terminating in abscess, or what is commonly called (jamboil. The first effect of inflammation in the periosteum is to create pain, tenderness and swelling in that part of the gum in close proximity to the tooth, and an effusion of fluid between the fang and its investing membrane, which is thus converted into a sort of cyst or tiny sack of skin. Repeated attacks of inflammation at length end in the formation of pus, which either bursts through the tumour in the gum or may be removed by lancing. Some- times after the abscess has burst or been opened, a fungus springs up from the diseased membrane lining the cavity. With some children the 124 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. i presence of the abscess having produced absorption of a portion of the alveolar process at its lowest part, it eft'uses its contents through the aper- ture thus formed, and matter forces itself along the surface of the lower jaw, and forms an external tumor near its base. With regard to the process of dentition in actual infants, the time at which it takes place is naturally subject to slight variation, when it is stated that many medical men give instances in their experience of chil- dren being born with teeth, or having cut them almost immediately after birth — Louis XIV., of France, and Richard III., of England, being historic cases m point ; the usual time, however, when babies begin to be troubled with the advent of teeth is at the seventh month, the period of the first detention lasting up to the age of two years or two and a half years. The symptoms of teething in a healthy child are that for some time be- fore the gums are much swollen, there is an excessive flow of saliva from the mouth, and the child indulges in what is known to most as "drib- bling," at the same time evincing a very strong desire to drag anything upon which it can fix its tiny little clutch into its mouth, while, if we place our finger into its mouth we perceive at once a decided attempt to bite, which affords a relief to the irritation of the gums. Where the child is inconvenienced only to the exte.at described there is no remedy required provided there is no constipation, but where this is the case small doses of castor oil are the safest. As to the article it should be given to suck, I personally prefer an ivory ring or a " finger " of crust of bread, great care being observed in the latter case that it is taken away before there is a possibility of its being broken or bitten off". When the child is extremely restless, cross and uneasy, crying bitterly without any apparent cause, and refuses all ordinary attempts at pacification, its suflering is very considerable, which is increased by its in- eftectual efforts to sleep for any length of time. The cheeks become flushed at this time, and if the local inflammation continue to increase the gums may ulcerate ; in this case apply a little borax and honey to them ; but where the irritation continues and the pain is obviously great it will be necessary to lance the gums, for which purpose it is almost unnecessary to add the services of a surgeon should be secured at once. At this time it is more than ever necessary to keep the bowels well open, a mild attack of diarrhoea being far more preferable under the existing circum- stances than the reverse state of things. All food requires to be carefully chewed in order that the vari- ous organs may perfectly perform their proper functions, and this can only be the case when the meat, or whatever it may be, is broken into minute wm TEETHING. 125 portions and duly mixed with saliva, without which it will not be proper- ly digested. The horrors and evils of indigestion are too well known ta need commenting upon here, but the necessity for a due attention to the mastication of food by children will be seen when it is stated that a weak stomach acts tardily and imperfectly upon anything introduced into it not properly chewed ; and the consequences are, the warmth and moisture of the stomach evolve gases, acids are formed, and then follow those distress- mg symptoms such as loss of appetite, flatulence, furred tongue, etc. The period of " teething" is more than interesting, from the fact that, at this stage of child -life, the whole organization seems to undergo a transi- tion. The features, hitherto more or less expressionless, become decided and distinct ; the eye becomes endued with expression, through which the mind seems to speak, as it were ; the round appearance of the facial out- line appears elongated, the result of the teeth expanding the jaws ; the forehead is perceptibly developed, and, in short, the entire face assumes an animation previously unknown, but most precious to mothers, on ac- count of its being the ordinary time when " baby is beginning to notice." The order in which teeth usually make their appearance is, first, the two central incisors of the lower jaw appear ; then shortly after those of the upper jaw, followed by the lower lateral incisors, and tiicn by the up- per lateral incisors. At the age of a year or fourteen months the four first molar teeth should begin to show, and at the sixteenth to the twentieth month the lower and upper canine teeth, followed by the four last molars. Although the suffering of infants from the process of dentition arises mainly from irritation of the gums, owing to the teeth working their way through, it is not in the mouth alone that pain is caused ; and where this is excessive, or in children whose constitutions are naturally irritable, the irritation is reflected by the nervous system to some other organ or system of organs. The most ordinary effect of this is stomach-ache, or diarrha a, with griping pain, which, if in a mild form, is the least to be feared of all the unpleasantnesses arising from teething ; and though its violence may be moderated, it should not be entirely arrested. Under these circumstances, a child soon gets weak and thin, and its flesh soft and flabby ; but, gene- rally speaking, this need not (except, of course, in an extreme case) be viewed with alarm ; for, as soon as the teeth are through, nature soon rights itself, and the little one w^iU resume its wonted good looks. When, how- ever, the symptoms are very distressing, by the quantity and frequency of the discharge, a chalk mixture, with a drop or two of laudanum to the ounce, according to the age of the child, may be given, in the event of a 126 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. medical man not being procurable. Where there is a great pain and flat- ulence, an occasional warm bath, and the use of liniment, composed of half a drachm of laudanum to two ounces of compound camphor liniment, or a mustard or linseed meal poultice, composed of one-third of the former to two-thirds of the latter. When the foregoing symptoms are accompanied by vomiting, it is exceedingly troublesome, and if the sickness is not reliev- ed by the division of the gums, it should be checked by administering a half-drop or a drop of laudanum. Besides the maladies mentioned that are the outcome of teething, there are many others, such as eruptions of the skin, spasm of the glottis, and affections of the nervous system, generally of too complicated a nature to treat in this article, as the remedies necessitated are as complex as the diseases ; but there is one serious disorder connected with dentition un- fortunately too common. I allude to convulsions, the treatment of which should be known to all. Convulsions in their mild form conh'st of muscular twitchings of the face, accompanied by an obvious difficulty in breathing and a rolling of the eyes. When severe, the child becomes insensible, and the muscles of the head, neck, and extremities are convulsed in various directions. The eyes are insensible to light, and turned rigidly up to one side. The ap- pearance and symptoms vary, of course, for, in addition to those named, with some children the face is congested, but sometimes pale, the lips livid, and there is frothing at the mouth. The hands are usually tightly clenched, and the thumbs turned inward, with the fingers on them, and in some cases the soles of the feet are turned together, with the great toe bent into the sole. The treatment for convulsions is, as a rule, a warm bath, and, in the absence of a doctor, the best thing to be done is to immerse the child in warm water of about ninety degrees temperature for about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, applying at the same time a cold, wet towel for two or three minutes to the little sufferer's head. Previous to the bath, which will take at least a few minutes to get ready, loosen all the clothing about the neck, chest and body, raise the head, sprinkle the face with water, and admit plenty of fresh air. With regard to the general treatment of children during teething, their heads should be kept cool and their feet warm, and, if the weather will admit, they should be bathed in cold water, especially about the head, and taken out daily in the open air. At night it is equally essential that their heads be kept cool, and therefore no caps or coverings should be used. WHOOPING-COUGH. 127 As before stated, diarrhoea during dentition, unless very severe, should not be stopped; but regarded as an effort of nature to relieve conger tion to the head ; and where the opposite effect is the case, purgatives should be avoided, and the boweL regulated by suitable diet ; in obstinate cases by injections. Constipation in infants may be almost entirely attri- buted to defective diet, and if, while nursing, mothers and nurses would carefully avoid any article of food or drink of an indigestible or stimulat- ing character, this ailment would be comparatively unknown. WHOOPING-OOUGH. This disease, almost absolutely confined to infants and children, is, luckily for them, more distressing in its symptoms than dangerous in its effects, a case of whooping-cough, pur et simple, being rarely fatal. Like croup, it is more common with very young children, the usual age when they are more subject to it being from two to ten years ; but, unlike croup, it is more common to girls than to boys, and appears but once in a lifetime, though cases have been known were the cough continued daily at a certain hour for several months, and, after ceasing for some time, returned for two successive seasons. The symptom3 which usually precede this malady are those of ordinary influenza. First and foremost there is a languor, restlessness, feverish- ness and unaccountable irritation, except that the little one is thought " to have caught a slight cold," then loss of appetite, sneezing, coughing, follow, with a running at the nose ; this is in the case of an ordinary and not severe attack. Where the disease is in an aggravated form the fever is more intense, the thirst greater, the pulse quicker, and the oppression and distress in proportion, the cough very frequent and painful, dry at tirst, but with excessive expectoration afterward. This may be called the first stage of the disease, and is the customary prelude to whooping, but it is perfectly possible to dispense with these preliminaries, and for a child to be suddenly seized with the too well-known cough. These symptoms ordinarily continue from ten days to a fortnight. The second stage is marked by the dying-out of the symptoms of cold and the commencement of the fits of coughing, which are best described as a number of expirations made with such violence, and repeated in such quick succession, that the child seems almost in danger of suffocation. The face and neck are swollen and livid, the eyes protruded and full of tears ; at length, one or two inspirations are made with similar violence, and by them the peculiar whooping sound is produced ; a little rest prob- li sm I 128 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. ably follows, and is succeeded by another fit of coughing, and another whoop, until after a succession of these actions, the paroxysm is termi- nated by vomiting, or a discharge of mucus from the lungs, or perhaps both. The duration of this stage is usually from six week.i to a couple of months, but sometimes continues for a much longer period, the disease, in some cases, lasting from the beginning of Winter until the end of Spring. The debilitating results of the disease depend to a great extent upon the violence and duration of the attack, and the strength or weakness of the constitution, but as a rule, if there are no complications, these are of no great moment. The frequent vomiting decreases the appetite, and dis- turbs digestion, which interferes with nutrition, and the child naturally loses flesh, which is more or less flabby, and the skin is unusually dark, especially underneath the eyes. The subsiding of the attack is marked by the fits of coughing becom- ing less frequent, though possibly they may be as fierce as ever, the paroxysms lasting from a minute to a quarter of an hour. In proportion to their violence and duration will be the child's breathlessness and fricrht and its efforts to respire. If in a recumbent position it will suddenly jump up and seize hold of whatever or whoever is nearest, in order to be assisted in overcoming the spasm. When the fit is over the child appears exhausted, and requires a short rest to recover itself; but then and during the interval to the next cough, it is comparatively easy and cheerful, of ten playing about as usual, and not averse to food, except where the case is a severe one, when extreme languor supervenes. The period at which these paroxysms recur varies considerably ; dur- ing the early part of the attack they are very frequent — about every half hour, and in some extremely severe cases as often as every ten minutes — the chief cause of their return being the accumulation of mucus. Conse- quently, if this be got rid of by the coughing, the fit will be light ; but if it is expelled with difficulty the efforts will be greater, and the cough renewed almost immediately. These fits are produced by many things — a hearty meal, a fit of passion, crying, fright or laughter, will either of them be sufficient to bring on an attack. Although we have stated that this disease is rarely attended with fatal results, it must be distinctly understood that this statement applies to whooping-cough per se : it is perfectly correct, but for fear any one should not be sufficiently careful, it is a disorder which, if improperly treated, or if the case be one of an extremely acute character, may lead to something of a complicated and highly dangerous nature. tiifWiritm ill M n (\ in 'I "M 'i m' •1*' . It is ingthf requin necessi ing chi those On the or of a ately. Duri torant ipecaci almond the era child s] five dej room d account Whe peratui much 1( air, the few drc WiT] tack is be conf when tl M'arm valescei The < feature milk an child is best mo Unfoi is preva of the n VACCINATION. 129 • !| It is a complaint which lends itself a great deal more to careful nurs- ing than to an elaborate course of medicine, for it will run its course, and requires guiding and watching more than checking, great care being necessary to note the symptoms, lest they assume a conspicuous or alarm- ing character, and by appropriate treatment prevent the affection having those complications alluded to which constitute it a disease of danger. On the slightest appearance either of inflammatory affection of the lungs or of a tendency to convulsion a medical man should be sent for immedi- ately. During the first stage an emetic of ipecacuanha, followed by an expec- torant every four hours, should be given, the latter consisting of ipecacuanha wine, sirup of squills, a little sirup of white poppies and almond milk, and some mild aperient, such as castor oil, or salts and senna, the emetic only to be repeated occasionally. The rooms to which the child should be confined should be of an equable temperature, about sixty- five degrees, the bedroom being ventilated during the day and the sitting- room during the night ; but the windows of the apartment must on no account be opened while the patient is in them. When the second stage arrives, while proper attention is paid to tem- perature, the cough will be found much slighter and the expectoration much less than if the child were permitted to be exposed to the external air, the emetic being continued occasionally, and also the mixture, with a few drops of laudanum added to it With regard to change of air, there is no doubt that while the at- tack is unsubdued, no matter what the weather may be, the patient should be confined not only to the house, but to rooms, as already stated, but when the disease is on the wane the change from a cold situation to one of warm temperature is most beneficial in accelei-ating a return to con- valescence, though the greatest caution is needed in this matter. The diet of the child during the entire illness is a most important feature in connection with the treatment, and should consist chiefly of milk and farinaceous foods, meat being of too heating a nature, unless the child is very weak and low, in which case tolerably good broth will be the best mode of giving animal food. VACCINATION. Unfortunately that dangerous and much dreaded malady — smallpox — is prevalent, and it would be well for parents and others to be reminded of the necessity of re vaccination every seven years. I 130 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. It is astonishing that though this discovery is undoubtedly one of the very greatest blessings to poor humanity it should now be thought so little of, and that there should be some who actually decrj'^ and refuse to accept it as such, when there is no doubt that if every one had followed the in- structions as to revaccination, by this time smallpox would have ceased altogether. No language can be too strong to depict the horrors of this diseavse, or to denounce the culpable ignorance of those who, blinding themselves to the blessings of vaccination, set the law at defiance and thus endanger the lives of their fellow-creatures. Supposing it could be proved (which it cannot) that in some cases it has been the means of imparting disease, the overwhelming number of cases where it has not, but has been a preven- tive of this terrible malady, ought to show its necessity on the beneficent principle of studying the greatest happiness of the greatest number. To children smallpox has ever been distressingly fotal, and though it is impossible to give any course of treatment for its cure in an article of this character, as so much depends upon the violence of the case, the state of the patient's constitution, and the stage of the complaint, it may be said that the old practice of close, hot rooms, warm clothing, and hot drinks are proved mistakes ; cool, well- ventilated apartments, comfortably cool bedclothes and cooling drinks having been found to be not only more pleasant but more successful in their results. When the disease first makes its appearance, if the fever be moderate and no professional advice be procurable, the patient should be confined to bed, and cool drinks and a dose or two of purgative medicine administ ered. PEVEES. Measles. — An acute specific disease — febrile and infectious, ushered in with catarrhal symptoms and characterized by an eruption on the skin, which appears usually on the fourth day. Usual Symptoms. — After a period of incubation varying from twelve to fourteen days (the period of incubation in cases produced by inoculation is seven days), there is manifested alternate chilli- ness and heat, a quickened pulse, aching in the limbs, slight headache, soon followed by redness of the eyes, coryza, huskiness and hoarse cough. On the fourth day there is an eruption of soft, circular, very slightly ele- vated dusky red spots, which appear first on the forehead, and extend over the face, neck, and whole body. The spots gradually coalesce and present a peculiar crescentic or horseshoe shape. The spots disappear on pressure. IP tmmmmm ■p^ FEVERS. 131 They attain their greatest intensity on the fourth day from their invasion, and by the seventh day they fade away with a slight desquamation of the cuticle. As a rule the fever does not abate on the appearance of the* eruption. The contagion of measles is active during the prodromic stage. Red spots are visible on the velum palati four, five, or six days before the eruption appears on the skin. Occasional Symptoms, — There may be no prodromata wliatever, or the attack may be ushered in with convulsions (especially in children), or there may be delirium, or there may be a great amount of fever, or there may be and often is sore throat ; more rai*ely severe headache, and some- times absence of the coryza. The eruption may be scanty, or most abundant and confluent, but the quantity of the eruption per se does not affect the gravity of the attack ; the colour of the eruption may be dark, constituting so called " black measles"; there maybe petechise, which do not fade on pressure and resemble purpura ; these do not per se a^ect the prognosis. Miliary vesi- cles are often present, and when abundant the amount of desquamation will be gi'eater. Average Mortality. — One in fifteen. Prognosis. — If uncomplicated, favourable. Unfavourable signs are great fever, great dyspnoea, sudden vanishing of the rash, together with an access of delirium ; brown dry tongue, with special severity of some two or three symptoms ; petechise, with a typhoid form of fever. Capil- lary bronchitis and pneumonia are the most frequent proximate causes of death. Treatment. — The child must be kept in bed in a large, well-ventilated room, free from drafts — a point of vital importance, looking to the fre- quency and danger of chest complications. The diet must be low. Tepid drinks may be freely given. It is very important in measles, as in all in- fectious fevers, to remove all discharge and soiled linen instantly ; the motions should be passed into vessels containing chloride of lime, carbolic acid, or Condy's fluid ; this with ventilation will go far to prevent infec- tion. There is no objection, if it be grateful to the patient, to ' ave the body gently sponged with warm water ; and if itching be much complain- ed of, inunction with unsalted lard is useful. Cough is often the first troublesome system which requires special treatment. A mixture con- taining citrate of potash and ipecacuanha wine with a few drops of nepen- the or Tinct. Camph. Co., will usually quiet this. If the fever runs high, the weak mineral acids sweetened and largely diluted will be very grate- ' WJf W"* '•", ■'i*?"!^^^" 132 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. ful. Or a mixture of citrate of potash and Rochelle salt may be given in an eflTervescing form. If the fever be of low type, with brown tongue and 'Vailing powers, large doses of chlorate of potash will be useful, and stimu- lants will be required. Yelk of eggs beaten up with wine is excellent in such cases. Purgatives, as a rule, are not required ; if employed they should be mere laxatives, remembering the diarrhoea which usually sets in toward the close of the disease. In cases attended with much nervous * excitability and convulsions or delirium, bromide of potassium in full doses will be useful. This drug will also procure sleep, and is better for the purpose than any opiate. Sudden recession of the rash attended with an onset of delirium should be met by plunging the child into a bath contain- ing mustard, and leaving it in until the surface becomes red, which usually occurs in a few minutes. The child should then be rolled in a blanket, and the strength supported by nutritious diet, and stimulants are needed. For laryngitis, a sponge wrung out of very hot water should be applied over the larynx, and inhalation of steam encouraged. Pneumonia will call for a stimulating embrocation over its site, and the administration of stimulants, expectorants — carbonate of ammonia with senega is the best. Lung and indeed all complications occurring during the early stages are best treated by endeavouring, with external stimulants, e.g., the mustard bath, and internal gentle diaphoretics, to get the rash thrown out freely. Later on this is, of course, inadmissible, and the strength must be sup- ported in every way. As the disease declines the diet may be more solid, and tonics will be of service. Convalescence from measles is often slow, and as discharges from the ears, eyes, and nose are not uncommon, sea-air is very beneficial in re- establishing the health. Such discharges will require astringent lotions and the use of cod-liver oil and steel. SCARLATINA. An acute specific disease — febrile, contagious, and infectious, and accom- panied by a peculiar eruption of the skin. After a period of incubation varying according to different authors at from four to forty days, and probablj' averaging from four to six days, there appears in children vomit- ing ; in older persons sore throat, and the onset is usually sudden. It is common for adults to be able to fix the hour in which the sore throat be- gan. In children severe vomiting often prognosticates severe throat afiec- tion. Next there is noticed fever, a frequent pulse, commonly 130-170, a flushed face, a high temperature (103 or 104 degrees F., even on the first CROUP. 133 day), hurried breathing, furred tongue, hot skin and thirst. At the same time there is lassitude and restlessness, headache and at night delirium. On the second day, usually about the root of the neck and upper part of the chest, appears the eruption, which is a scarlet efflorescence consisting of innumerable red spots at first separated by natural skin, but soon coal- escing and producing a general redness ; the skin is rendered pale by pres- sure, but the redness immediately returns — the rash is not elevated to the touch. It is most abundant about the hips and loias, and the flexures of* the joints — in fact where the papillae of the skin are largest. The eruption reaches its maximum intensity on the third or fourth day ; by the fifth it has begun to fade, and by the eighth it disappears. It goes off in an order corresponding with its invasion. Miliaria are often present, perhaps more commonly in adults than in children ; they in no wise affect the prognosis. The sore throat is very important, especially in children. A child may die from throat disease without any complaint about its throat having been made. The throat should therefore always be carefully examined. The tonsils will usually be found enlarged and inflamed, and often coated with a thick white tenacious mucus. CROUP. This disease is characterized by difficulty of breathing ; hoarseness ; a ringing cough, which, when once heard, will be distinctly remembered ; the cough is followed by a " crowing inspiration." There is inflammatory fever ; frequent and hard pulse ; thirst. The attack is most liable to come on in the night — either altogether un- expected, or preceded by a cold, sore throat, or catarrh. Treatment. — Apply to the throat very cold wet cloths well covered with dry. Keep the child in bed. Rub with the dry hand the back and limbs, and continue this until a hot bath is made ready ; renewing the cold cloths to the throat every few momenta. When the room is made very warm and the bath at hand, place the child in the hot water, as hot as can be borne, and rub the chest and abdomen and the whole body very briskly. Add more hot water, and keep the body (even to the neck) im- mersed. Have a dry hot sheet ready in which to wrap and rub dry the little patient. If fever is high, now put on the abdominal bandage wrung from warm water. Cover well with dry flannel — a small blanket or even a good-sized one is none too much. Apply again the cold wet cloth to the throat. Keep the feet warm ; and, if the breathing is not easier now, fo- 7ir;^'Vr"-'»"'«" 134 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP/EDIA. ment the throat and upper part of the chest for twenty minutes alternately with the cold compress. Pat and rub the back and chest. Manipulate the arnifi and legs. Give drinks of hot water and of cold. Follow the symptoms with "all dili- gence." Do not relax effort until the breathing is liberated. If the bowels are not free, give full warm enema. If there is tendency to coldness of extremities, give hot bath occa- sionally ; also apply dry flannels heated very hot to the . unt, if they seem more agreeable than the hot fomentation. Keep the patient in a warm well-ventilated room. Give only baked apple, or toast water, or gruel as food, until the symptoms yield positively. I have been told by my patrons that it often occurs in their domestic practice with children, that, by the time the patient is rubbed with the dry hand, having the cold compress on the throat until the hot bath is made ready, there is no need of the bath ; the breathing is relieved. But it is not always so. I have treated cases of what is called " membranous croup," and it lasted persistently for days. I never lost a case of croup. But it is a dreaded disease, and justly so. MUMPS (PAEOTITIS). . This disease often prevails epidemically. It usually affects children and young persons, and is contagious. The parotid gland swells ; swelling beneath the ear, the chin, and all around the neck, deforming the countenance curiously. It affects one side only sometimes, but usually both. The swelling is hot, tender, and painful ; the lower jaw can scarcely be moved. In about four days the disease begins to decline, and usually lasts in all about ten days. Sometimes the swelling suddenly becomes transferred to the mammae in the female and to the testicle in the male, and may oscillate between the throat and the mammae or testicle. Metastasis to the brain is known to take place also, but this is rare. Treatment, — Very little treatment is necessary. Apply warm cloths to the swelling ; let them be kept on constantly. If there is general feverishness, a tepid sponge bath and enema of tepid water. A little gruel or bran tea as food. Keep the patient comfortably warm and quiet. If metastasis to the parts named occur, a warm sitz bath or fomentation to the affected region will give relief. Keep the feet warm. ■p DIPHTHERIA. -ACCIDENTS. 135 Should the brain become affected, give very hot sitz and foot bath ten minu^eH. Follow this with enema of hot water. Apply cool cloths to the head, or, if more agreeable to the j)atient, warm spongings. Let the pa- tient be kept in bed and seek to induce perspiration by applying bottles of hot water to the back and feet and drinking of hot water. In fact, the treatment now should be the same as for inflammation of the brain. DIPHTHERIA. In this to be dreaded and terrible disease, a fahe membrane forms in the throat, and if the larynx becomes affected the chances of recovery are very few indeed. Frequent vomiting, diarrhoea, hemorrhage from the nostrils or elsewhere, frequency and fulness of the pulse, convulsions, delirium, and coma, are symptoms which denote great danger. Occasionally the muscles of both the upper and lower limbs are affected. The chief objects in the treatment are to palliate symptoms, and support the powers of life by the judicious employment of tonic remedies, conjoined with alimenta- tion and alcoholic stimulants. The latter are given in large quantities. The best advice to give to ni Lhers in regard to diphtheria is, send instant- ly for the doctor. Do not delay one moment ! ACCIDENTS. It is an accepted a )in that accidents will happen, no matter how well regulated the household ; and though much has been written with a view to avert the more serious calamities supposed to be the outcome of acci- dent, but which are invariably the result of carelessness, children still manage to burn themselves at fires, to scald themselves with hot water, to cut their fingers, to break their heads, etc. As a rule, the remedies required to )k of any service should be applied at once ; and it is, therefore, no earthly use suggesting antidotes or appli- ances only to be met with in a doctor's surgery. I shall, therefore, in the few suggestions I make, more particularly dwell upon those simple reme- dies which may reasonably be expected to be found in every home. In the summer months, when the weather is seasonable, the heat is of- tentimes suflUcient to cause children to bleed at the nose. In such cases, if the bleeding be not excessive or too frequent, it is not desirable to stop it, as, when caused by an undue fulness of the blood-vessels of the head, it affords great relief. When, however, the bleeding is the result of a knock or blow, cold applications should be applied to the nose or forehead, and the child kept standing in the open air. TT" ■w»PWBr^ r'w 136 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Another excellent way of arresting the bleeding is to cause the arms to be raised above the head, and kept so for a few minutes, which will usually have the desired effect. In the event of these remedies proving ineffectual, and it being evident that the bleeding is dangerous, the nostrils must be plugged with pieces of linen rag made into stoppers of oval shape, about one inch in the long diameter and half an inch in the transverse, sufficient linen being left hanging in order to withdraw them when necessary. The great thing to determine in cases where the bleeding is not the result of accident is whether it be a disease, or Nature's mode of assisting the re- moval of one ; and this, of course, can only be arrived at by a knowledge of thd child's state of health at the time. CUTS. With regard to the bleeding caused by a cut from a knife, or something similarly sharp, if it be only slight, after being bathed with cold water, the edges or sides of the wound should be brought together, and bound with narrow strips of arnica plaster, if this is to be had ; but if not, a sim- ple band of linen, smeared with the white of an egg, will be the best sub- stitute. If the band becomes tight, and causes pain owing to the swelling, don't remove the bandage, but insert the blade of a pair of scissors under- neath the binding on the opposite side to the wound, and cut the linen across. Where it is necessary to remove the strapping on account of there being pain and throbbing, the part affected should be soaked in warm water, and a soft, warm poultice applied. When the wound does not show signs of inflammation, and the discharge is good, that is to say, resembling cream in consistence and custard in colour, the bandage may be put on again ; but when the edges are intlamed, or pale and flabby, and the dis- charge thin and objectionable in it%odour,a single strap of adhesive plaster should be used to keep the edges together, and this should be covered with a warm poultice. When a mishap of this kind occurs, it is either a vein or an artery that is cut. In the former case the blood is dark-coloured, and will flow in a steady stream, which can usually be stopped by the application of cold water or ice, and by exposing the wound to the open air. In the latter the blood is bright-red, and flows in jets, when, if the bleeding is excessive, a strong bandage should be tied around the limb, just above the wound, and between it and the heart, and compressed sufficiently tight (by means of a Htick inserted underneath and twisted) until the circulation be stopped. BURNS. 137 When the wound is not a clean cut, and there is any foreign substance, such as dirt, hair, etc., it must be carefully removed by sponging with cold water. BITBNS. Accidents caused by burning demand immediate attention, and can only be cured in one way — by excluding the air from the part affected. Where it is a case of the clothes having caught fire, envelop the child in the heavest article available, such as a blanket, tablecloth, curtain, etc., and roll it over and over on the ground until the flames are extinguished, in the event of there not being sufficient water at hand for that purpose. This done, the charred garments should be quickly but most gently re- moved, and cut away, instead of being torn from the body, in order that the damaged skin should not be unnecessarily irritated ; but where a piece of the underlinen happens to be burnt into the wound, or is not easily detached, cut away all around it, and leave it to come away afterward. Then immediately cover the injured surface with something that will exclude the air, either with flour sprinkled thickly over the wound, with cotton- wool steeped in oil, or with a piece of linen on which is spread a layer of soap about the sixteenth of an inch thick. When procurable, a better remedy than either of those mentioned, is to apply strips of lint saturated in carron oil, which dressing should be left on as long as possi- ble, until they become loosened or objectionable from the discharges, it being most desirable that these bandages be changed Jis seldom as possi- ble, as their removal is apt to cause detachment of portions of the new skin, which is most painful and undesirable. When there is much discharge it must be removed, and the place kept as clean as possible. When the injury is of an extensive character, and a shock ensues, the shivering is best checked by the application of hot bottles to the hands and feet, and the administering of hot drinks — either warm sherry or warm brandy and water. To prevent disfigurement from accidents of this nature, the child must be carefully watched until the partis completely healed, and must be prevented from sitting or lying in anything but a straight posture, to avoid contraction of the skin. The danger attending burns depends more upon their superficial extent than the depth of the injury—those to the body, head or neck being much more dangerous than those to the hands or feet, the neck being the most risky portion of all. Where the part is simply blistered, though these be extensive in charac- ter and large in number, it is comparatively of little moment as long as they '^^l^mw^-'*^ 138 THE HOME, FAEM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. are whole. They must consequently not be broken, but allowed to remain, and the fluid to accumulate till the new skin forms underneath. When this formation takes place, the part becomes distended and painful, there is a red line round the edge of the blister, and the contained fluid looks milky. It may then be let out by puncturing with a needle, so that it all escapes. SCALDS. Scalds from hot water, as a rule, are not so severe, as excepting in ex- treme cases, the scurf skin is only raised like an ordinary blister, and the dressing being wet, can be removed without difficulty. Any of the reme- dies prescribed for bums are equally efficacious for scalds, but if the scalded surface be instantly covered with cotton-wool, it is, if the accident be of a slight character, suflScient. Another admirable remedy, more particularly on account of its usually being " in the house," is lard. That specially prepared by chemists is, of course, the best ; but this only means the ordi- nary kind divested of the salt by washing. It should be thickly spread on pieces of old, soft linen, and when placed on the scald or burn, be kept in its place by bandages of lint, or better still, by strips of calico, torn from an old garment, always bearing in mind that the great thing is to protect the damaged part from the air, and remembering on no account to apply cold water or similar cold bandages. BRUISES. Bruises from knocks and tumbles are by far the most frequent of the numerous accidents of the nursery, and where the injury is slight and the skin not lacerated, a warm application of arnica (which should always be kept where there are children) and water, in the proportion of one part of arnica to ten of water, is advisable ; but in the absence of this, the old- fashioned remedy of covering the bruise with fresh butter should be re- sorted to. Jammed fingers, through the unexpected shutting of a drawer or door, though not usually looked upon as at all serious casualties, may some- times be attended by the most serious consequences, for if all the parts of the end of the fingers be injured, the whole (bone and flesh) may mortify. In ordinary cases of this kind, the best and quickest way of obtaining relief, is to plunge the finger or fingers into warm water as hot as the child can bear it. By this means the nail is softened, and yields so as to accom- modate itself to the blood poured out beneath it, and the pain is speedily lessened ; the finger should then be covered with a bread and water poul- ■pppp* P^^B w^m 'mm HINTS TO HOUSEKEEPERS. 139 tice, pending the surgical treatment necessary where the fingers are badly crushed. Instant care and attention in such cases will often prevent the loss of the nail, a result to be avoided if possible, since the formation and growth of the new nail are necessarily slow, and changes of shape frequently occur, sometimes resulting in permanent disfigurement. ^mt0 t0 <^0ttsi:k€€ptr0. CHOICE OF ARTICLES OF FOOD. OTHING is more important in the affairs of housekeeping than the choice of wliolesome food. Mackerel must be perfectly fresh. The firmness of the flesh and the clearness of the eyes must be the criterion of fresh mackerel, as they are of other fish. Flounders, and all flat white fish, are rigid and firm when fresh; the under side should be of a rich cream colour. Cod is known to be fi-esh by the rigidity of the muscles (or flesh) ; the redness of the gills, and clearness of the eyes. Salmon. — The flavour and excellence of this fish depend upon its fresh- ness, and the shortness of time since it was caught. Herrings can only be eaten when very fresh. Fresh Water Fish. — The remarks as to firmness and clear, fresh eyes, apply to this variety of fish, of which there are pike, perch, etc. Lobsters recently caught have always some remains of muscular action in the claws, which may be excited by pressing the eyes with the finger ; whe»i this cannot be produced, the lobster must have been too long kept. When boiled, the tail preserves its elasticity if fresh, but loses it as soon as it becomes stale. Crabs have an agreeable smell when fresh. Prawns and Shrimps, when fresh, are firm and crisp. Oysters. — If fresh, the shell is firmly closed ; when the shells of oysters are opened, they are dead and unfit for food. The small-shelled oysters are ■•TTr^M^JWiwr 140 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. the finest in flavour. Larger kinds are generally considered only fit for stewing and sauces, though some persons prefer them. Beef. — The grain of ox beef, when good, is loose, the meat red, and the fat inclining to yellow. When meat pressed by the finger rises up quickly, it may be considered as that of an animal which was in its prime ; when the dent made by pressure returns slowly, or remains visible, the animal bad probably past its prime, and the meat consequently must be of infe- rior quality. Veal should be delicately white, though it is often juicy and well flavoured, when rather dark in colour. On examining the loin, if the fat enveloping the kidney be white and firm looking, the meat will probably be prime, and recently ^killed. Mutton. — The meat should be firm and close in grain, and red in colour the fat white and firm. Mutton is in its prime when the sheep is about five years old, though it is often killed much younger. If too young, the flesh feels tender when pinched, if too old on being pinched it wrinkles up and so remains. In young mutton, the fat readily separates ; in old, it is held together by strings of skin. Lamb. — This meat will not keep long after it is killed. The large vein in the neck is bluish in colour when the fore-quarter is fresh, green when becoming stale. In the hind-quarter, if not recently killed, the fat of the kidney will have a slight smell, and the knuckle will have lost its firmness. Pork. — When good, the rind is thin, smooth, and cool to the touch ; when changing, from being too long killed, it becomes flaccid and clammy. Bacon should have a thin rind, and the fat should be firm and tinged with red by the cux'ing ; the flesh should be of a clear red, without inter- mixture of yellow, and it should firmly adhere to the bone. To judge the state of a ham, plunge a knife into it to the bone ; on drawing it back, if particles of meat adhere to it, or if the smell is disagreeable, the curing has not been efiectual, and the ham is not good ; it should, in such a state be immediately cooked. Venlson. — When good, the fat is clear, bright, and of considerable thick- ness. Turkeys. — In choosing poultry, the age of the bird is the chief point to be attended to. An old turkey has rough and reddish legs ; a young one, smooth and black. Fresh killed, the eyes are full and clear, and the feet moist. When it has been kept too long, the parts about the vent begin to wear a greenish, discoloured appearance. Common Domesitc Fowls, when young, have the legs and comb smooth ; when old, they are rough, and on the breast long hairs are found instead SEASONABLE FOOD. 141 of feathers. Fowls and chickens shonld be plump on the breast, fat on the back, and white legged. Geese. — The bills and feet are red when old, yellow when young. Fresh killed, the feet are pliable, stiff when too long kept. Geese are called green while they are only two or three months old. Ducks. — Choose them with supple feet and hard, plump breasts. Tame ducks have yellow feet, wild ones red. Pigeons are very indifferent food when they are too long kept. Supple- ness of the feet shows them to be young ; the state of the flesh is flaccid when they are getting bad from keeping. Tame pigeons are larger than the wild. Partridges, when young, have yellow legs and dark-coloured bills. Old partridges are very indifferent eating. Woodcock and Snipe, when old, have the feet thick and__hard ; when these are soft and tender, they are both young and fresh killed. When their bills become moist, and their throats muddy, they have been too long kUled. SEASONABLE FOOD. There is an old maxim, " a place for everything and everything in its place." To which we beg to add another, " A season for everything, and everything in season." JANUARY. [Fish, poultry, etc., distinguisheii by italics are to be had in the highest perfection.] B'iSH. — Cod, crabs, eels, flounders, herrings, lobsters, oysters, perch, pike, sturgeon, porgies. Meat. — Beef, house-lamb, mutton, pork, veal, and doe venison. Poultry and Game. — Capons, chickens, ducks, wild-ducks, fowls, geese, partridges, pheasants, pigeons (tame), pullets, rabbits, snipes, turkeys (hen), woodcock. Vegetables. — Beets, sprouts, cabbage, cardoons, carrots, celery, onions, parsnips, potatoes, turnips. Fruit. — Almonds, apples. FEBRUARY. Fish. — Cod, crabs, flounders, herrings, oysters, perch, pike, sturgeon, porgies. Meat. — Beef, house-lamb, mutton, pork, veal. Poultry and Game. — Capons, chickens, ducklings, fowl (wild), green B^^?Mi,M-;;/P'jiJ-^f,ffliP«^ ^^^r ^mt^'mmimii^'^ i^aH«"i«iPHaPWM*«i^"««BBPi 142 THE HOME, FAEM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. geese, partridges, pheasants, pigeons (tame and wild), pullets, rabbits, snipes, turkeys, woodcock. Vegetables. — Beets, cabbage, carrots, celery, mushrooms, onions, pars- nips, potatoes, turnips. Fruit. — Apples, chestnuts, oranges. MARCH. Fish. — Eels, crabs, flounders, lobsters, mackerel, oysters, perch, pike, shrimp, smelt, sturgeon, porgies. Meat. — Beef, house-lamb, mutton, pork, veal. Poultry and Game. — Capons, chickens, ducklings, fowls, green geese, pigeons, rabbits, snipes, turkeys, woodcock. Vegetables. — Beets, carrots, celery, cresses, onions, parsnips, potatoes, turnip tops. Fruit. — Apples, chestnuts, oranges. APRIL. Fish. — Shad, cod, crabs, eels, flounders, halibut, herrings, lobsters, mack- erel, oysters, perch, pike, salmon, shrimps, smelts, sturgeon, trout, porgies. Meat. — Beef, house-lamb, mutton, pork, veal. Poultry and Gamf — Chickens, ducklings, fowls, green geese, leverets, pigeons, pullets, rabbits, turkey-poults, wood-pigeons. Vegetables. — Onions, parsnips, spinach, small salad, turnip tops, and rhubarb. Fruit. — Apples, nuts, oranges, pears. MAY. Fish. — Shad, (Tod, crahs, eels, flounders, halibut, herring, lobsters, mack- erel, mullet, perch, pike, salmon, shrimps, smelts, sturgeon, trout, clams. Meat. — Beef, grass-lamb, house-lamb, mutton, pork, veal. Poultry and Game. — Chickens, fowls, green geese, pigeons, pullets, rabbits. Vegetables. — ^Artichokes, green peas, asparagus, kidney-beans, cabbage, carrots, onions, peas, potatoes, radishes, rhubarb, salad, spinach, turnips. Fruit. — Apples, pears, JUNE. Fish. — Cod, shad,cra&s, eels, flounders, herrings, lobsters, mackerel, perch, pike, salmon, clams, smelts, sturgeon, trout, cat-fish, black-fish. Meat. — Beef, grass-lamb, mutton, pork, veal. SEASONABLE FOOD. 143 Poultry and Game. — Chickens, ducklings, fowls, green geese, pigeons, pullets, rabbits. Vegetables. — Asparagus, beans, white beet, cabbage, carrots, cucum- bers, leeks, lettuce, onions, parsley, peas, potatoes, radishes, salad of all sorts, spinach, turnips. Fruit. — Apples, apricots, cherries, currants, gooseberries, melons, pears, strawberries. JULY. Fish. — Cod, crabs, flounders, herrings, lobsters, mackerel, perch, pike, salmon, trout, blue-Jish, black-fish, bass, picJcerel, catfish, eels, clams, porgies. Meat. — Beef, grass-lamb, mutton, veal, buck venison. Poultry and Game. — Chickens, ducks, fowls, green geese, leverets, pig- eons, plovers, rabbits, wild pigeons. Vegetables. — Artichokes, asparagus, balm, beans, carrots, cauliflowers, celery, cucumbers, herbs of all sorts, lettuce, mint, mushrooms, peas, pota- toes, radishes, salads of all sorts, spinach, turnips, tomatoes, Carolina potatoes. For Drying. — Mushrooms. For Pickling. — French beans, red cabbage, cauliflowers, garlic, gher- kins, onions. Fruit. — Apples, apricots, cherries, currants, damsons, gooseberries, melons, nectarines, peaches, pears, oranges, pineapples, plums, raspberries, strawberries. august. Fish. — Cod, eels, crabs, flounders, herrings, lobsters, mackerel, perch, pike, mlmon, blue-fish, black fish, wetik-fish, sheep's head, trout, porgies, clams. Meat. — Beef, grass-lamb, mutton, veal, buck-venison. Poultry and Game. — Chickens, ducks, fowls, green geese, pigeons, plo- vei*s, rabbits, wild ducks, wild pigeons, red-bird, curlew. Vegetables. — Artichokes, beans, white-beet, carrots, cauliflowers, cu- cumbers, pot-herbs of all sorts, leeks, lettuce, mushrooms, onions, peas, potatoes, radishes, salad of all sorts, spinach, turnips, tomatoes. For Drying. — Basil, sage, thyme. ,. For Pickling. — Red cabbage, tomatoes, walnuts. Fruit. — Apples (summer pippin), cherries, currants, damsons, gooseber- ries, grapes, melons, mulberries, nectarines, peaches, pears, pluips (green- gages); raspberries. 144 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. SEPTEMBER. Fish. — Cockles, cod, crabs, eels, flounders, lobsters, oysters, perch, pike, shrimps, porgies, black-fish, weak-fish. Meat. — Beet', mutton, pork, veal, buck-venison. Poultry and Game. — Chickens, ducks, fowls, green geese, partridges, pigeons, plovers, rabbits, turkeys, ^vild ducks, wild pigeons, rabbits, quail. Vegetables. — Artichokes, beans, cabbages, carrots, cauliflowers, celery, cucumbers, herbs of all sorts, leeks, lettuce, mushrooms, onions, parsnips, peas, potatoes, radishes, salad of all sorts, turnips, tomatoes, Carolina po- tatoes. Fruit. — Apples, damsons, grapes, hazel-nuts, medlars, peaches, pears, pine-apples, plums, quinces, strawberries, walnuts. OCTOBER. Fish. — Cockles, cod, crabs, eels, gudgeons, halibut, lobsters, mussels, oys- ters, perch, pike, salmon-trout, shrimps, smelts, porgies. Meat. — Beef, mutton, pork, veal, doe- venison. Poultry and Game. — Chickens, ducks, fowls, green geese, larks, par- tridges, pheasants, pigeons, red-bird, black-bird, robins, snipes, turkey, wild ducks, wild pigeons, wild rabbits, woodcock, teal. Vegetables. — Artichokes, cabbages, cauliflowers, celery, herbs of all sorts, onions, parsnips, peas, potatoes, radishes, salad, spinach (winter), tomatoes, turnips, Carolina potatoes. Fruit. — Almonds, apples, black and white damsons, hazel-nuts, grapes, peaches, pears, quinces, walnuts. NOVEMBER. Fish. — Cockles, cod, crabs, eels, gudgeons, halibut, lobsters, mussels, oys- ters, perch, pike, salmon, shrimps, smelts, porgies, flounders. Meat. — Beef, house-lamb, mutton, pork, veal, doe-venison. Poultry and Game. — Chickens, ducks, fowls, geese, larks, partridges, pigeons, rabbits, snipes, turkej'', wild ducks, woodcock, robins. Vegetables. — Beets, cabbages, carrots, celery, herbs of all sorts, lettuce, onions, parsnips, potatoes, salad, spinach, tomatoes, turnips. Fruit. — Almonds, apples, chestnuts, hazel nuts, grapes, pears. DECEMBER. Fish. — Cod, crabs, eels, gudgeons, halibut, lobsters, oysters, perch, pike, salmon, shrimps, smelts, sturgeon. ml M iKJ'i m %'■•■ A FASHIONABLE SUMMER RESORT. NAMES AND SITUATIONS OF THE JOINTS. 145 Meat. — Beef, house-lamb, mutton, pork, veal, doe-venison. Poultry and Game. — Capons, chickens, clucks, fowls, geese, guinea- fowl, hares, larks, partridges, pea-fowl, pheasants, pigeons, rabbits, snipes, turkey, wild ducks, woodcock. Vegetables. — Beets, cabbages, carrots, celery, herbs of all sorts, lettuce, onions, parsnips, potatoes, salad, spinach, turnips. Fruit. — Apples, chestnuts, hazel-nuts. NAMES AND SITUATIONS OF THE JOINTS. The method of cutting up the carcases varies. Tliat which we describe below is the most general. Beaf — Fore Quarter. — Fore rib (five ribs); middle rib (four ribs) ; chuck (three ribs). Shoulder piece (top of fore leg) ; brisket (lower or belly part of the ribs) ; clod (fore shoulder blade) ; neck ; shin (below the shoulder) ; cheek. Hind Quarter. — Sirloin ; rump ; aitchbone — these are the three divis- ions of the upper part of the quarter ; buttock and mouse-buttock, which divide the thigh ; veiny piece, joining buttock ; thick flank and thin flank (belly pieces) and leg. The sirloin and rump of both sides form a baron. Beef is in season all the year ; best in the winter. Mutton. — Shoulder ; breast (the belly) ; over which are the loin (chump or tail end). Loin (best end) ; and neck (best end) ; neck (scrag end). A chine is two necks ; a saddle, two loins ; then there are the leg and head. Mutton is the best in winter, spring, and autumn. Lamb is cut into fore quarter and hind quarter ; a saddle, or loin ; neck breast, leg, and shoulder. Orass-lamb is in season from June to August Pork is cut into leg, hand or shoulder ; hind loin ; fore loin ; belly part spare rib (or neck) ; and head. Pork is in season nearly all the year. Veal is cut into neck (scrag end) ; neck (best end) ; loin (best end) loin (chump, or tail end) ; fillet (upper part of the hind leg) ; hind knuc kle (which joins the fillet knuckle of fore leg ; blade (bone of shoulder) breast (best end) ; breast (brisket end) ; and hand. Veal is always in sea- son, but dear in the winter and spring. Venison is cut into haunch (or back) ; neck, shoulder, and breast. Doe- venison is best in January, October, November, and December, and buck- venison in June, July, August, and September. Ox-tail is much esteemed for purposes of soup ; so also is the cheek. The tongue is highly esteemed. 'mv^w 146 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Calves* Heads are very useful for various dishes ; so also their knuck- les, FEET, HEART, etc. INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. CooKiNO. — Ten pounds of beef require from two hours to two hours and a half roasting, eighteen inches from a good fire. Six pounds require one hour and a quarter to one hour and a half, four- teen inches from a good, clear fire. Three ribs of beef, boned and rolled, tied round with paper, will require two hours and a half, eighteen inches from the fire, baste once only. The first three ribs of fifteen or twenty pounds, will take three hours or three and a half ; the fourth and fifth ribs will take as long, managed in the same way as the sirloin. Paper the fat and the thin part, or it will be done too much, before the thick part in done enough. When beef is very fat, it does not require basting ; if very lean, tie it up in greasy paper, and baste frequently and well. Common cooks are generally fond of too fierce a fire, and of putting things too near to it. Slow roasting is as advantageous to the tenderness and flavour of meat as slow boiling. The warmer the weather, and the staler killed the meat is, the less time it will require to roast it. Meat that is very fat requires more time than other meat. In the hands of an expert cook, " alimentary substances are made al- most entirely to change their nature, their form, consistence, odour, sa- vour, colour, chemical composition, etc. ; everything is so modified, that it is often impossible for the most exquisite sense of taste to recognise the substance which makes up the basis of certain dishes. The greatest util- ity of the kitchen consists in making the food agreeable to the senses, and rendering it easy of digestion." Boiling extracts a portion of the juice of meat, which mixe« with the water, and also dissolves some of its solids ; the m< it- rts of the fat melt out, combine with the water, and frirn ^' The meat loses its red colour, becomes more savoui si and more firm and digestible. If the process is con ued to ong, iiie meat be- comes indigestible, less succulent, and tough. To boii to perfection, it should be done slowly, plenty of water, re- placed by other hot water, as evaporation takes place ; for, if boiled t quickly, the outside becomes tough ; and not allowing the ready tra mission of heat, the interior remains rare. INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 147 The loss by boiling varies from G\ to IG per cent. The average loss on boiling butcher's meat, pork, hams, and bacon, is 12 ; and on domestic poultry, is 142. The loss per cent, on boiling salt beef is 1.5 ; on legs of mutton, 10 ; hams, 12 J ; salt pork, 13J ; knuckles of veal, 8^ ; bacon, 6| ; turkeys, 16 ; chickens, 13i. The established rule as regards time, is to allow a quarter of an hour for each pound of meat if the boiling is rapid, and twenty minutes if slow. There are exceptions to this ; for instance, ham and pork, which require from twenty to twenty-five minutes per pound, and bacon nearly half an hour. For solid joints allow fifteen minutes for every pound, and from ten to twenty minutes over ; though of course, the length of time will de- pend much on the strength of the fire, regularity in the boiling and size of the joint. The following table will be useful as an average of the timo required to boil the various articles : H. M. Aham, 201b3. weight, requires G 30 A tongue (if dry), after soaking 4 00 A tongue, out of pickle 2A to 3 00 A neck of mutton 1 30 A chicken 20 A large fowl 45 A capon 35 A pigeon 15 The loss by roasting varies, according to Professor Donovan, from 14 3-5ths to nearly double that rate, per cent. The average loss on roasting butcher's meat is 22 per cent. ; and on domestic poultry is 20^. The loss per cent on roasting beef, viz., on sirloins and ribs together, is 19 l-6th ; on mutton, viz., legs and shoulders together, 24 4-5ths ; on fore quarters of lamb, 22J ; on ducks, 27 l-5th j on turkeys, 20J ; on geese, 19| ; on chickens, 14 3-5ths. Broiling requires a brisk, rapid heat, which, by producing a greater degree of change in the affinities of the raw meat than roasting, generates a higher flavour, so that broiled meat is more savoury than roast. The surface becoming charred, a dark- coloured crust is foi'med, which retards the evaporation of the juices ; and therefore if properly done, broiled may be as tender and juicy as roasted meat. Baking does not admit of the evaporation of the vapours so rapidly as by the processes of broiling and roasting ; the fat is also retained more, ■^^wm:^'^- 148 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. and becomes converted by the agency of the heat into an empyreumatic oil, so as to render the meat less fitted for delicate stomachs, and more difficult to digest. The meat is in fact, partly boiled in its own confined water, and partly roasted by the dry hot air of the oven. The loss by baking has not been estimated ; and as the time required to cook many articles must vary with their size, nature, etc., we have con- sidered it better to leave that until giving tlie receipts for them. Frying is of all methods the most objectionab.e, from the foods being less digestible when thus prepared, as the fat employed undergoes chemi- cal changes. Olive oil in this respect is preferable to lard or butter. Roast Beef. — The tender-loin and first and second cuts off the rack are the best roasting pieces — the thii'd and fourth cuts are good. When the meat is put to the fire, a little salt should be sprinkled on it, and tlie bony side turned toward the fire first. When the bones get well heated through, turn the meat, and keep a brisi. fire — baste it frequently while roasting. 1 nere should be a little water put into the dripping pan when the meat is put down to roast. If it is a thick piece, allow fifteen min- utes to each pound to roast it in— if thin less time will be required. Beef Steak. — The tender-loin is the best piece for broiling — a steak from the round or shoulder clod is good and comes cheaper. If the beef is not very tender, it should be laid on a board and pounded, before broil- ing or frying it. Wash it in cold water, then lay it on a gridiron, place it on a hot bed of coals, and broil it as quick as possible without burning it. If broiled slow it will not be good. It takes from fifteen to twenty minutes to broil a steak. For seven or eight pounds oi beef, cut up a quarter of a pound of butter. Heat the platter very hot that the steak is to be put on, lay the butter on it, take up the steak, salt and pepper i^ on both sides. Beef steak to be good should be eaten as soon as cooked. A few slices of salt pork broiled with the steak makes a rich gravj witli a very little butter. There should always be a trough to catch the juices of the meat when broiled. The same pieces that are good broiled are good for frying. Fry a few slices of salt pork brown , then take them up and put in the beef. When brown on both sides, take it up, take the pan off from the fire, to let the fat cool ; when cool, tutn in half a teacup of water, mix a couple of teaspoonfuls o: flour with '\ little water, stir it into the fat, put the pan back on the fire; stir it till it b-ils up, then turn it over the beef. Alamode Beef. — The round of beef is the best piece to alamode — the shoulder clod is good, and comes lower ; it is also good stewed, without any spices. For five pounds of beef, soak cbout a pound of broad in cold ■pip INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 149 water till soft, then drain off the water, mash the bread fine, put in a piece of butter, of the size of a hen's egg, half a teaspoonful of salt, the same quantity of ground cloves, allspice, and pepper, half a nutmeg, a cou- ple of eggs, and a tablespoonful of flour — mix the whole well together ; then C'it gashes in the beef, and fill them with about half of the dres- sing, put the meat in a bakepan, with lukewarm water enough to cover it ; set it where it will stew gently for a couple of hours ; cover it with a lieated bake-pan lid. When it has stewed a couple of hours, turn the reserved dressing on top of the meat, heat the bake-pan lid hot enough to brown the dressing, stew it an hour and a half longer. After the meat is taken up, if the gravy is not thick enough, mix a teaspoonful or two of flour with a little water and stir it into the gravy ; put in a little but- ter, a wineglass of wine, and turn it over the meat. Beef Liver. — Liver is very good fried, but the best way to cook it, is to broil it ten minutes with four or five slices of salt pork. Then take it out, cut it into small strips together with the pork, put it in a stew-pan, with a little water, butter and pepper. Stew it four or five minutes. To Corn Beef. — To every gallon of cold water, put a quart of rock salt, an ounce of saltpetre, quarter of a pound of brown sugar (some peo- pl'j use molasses, but it is not as good) ; no boiling is necessary. Put the beef in the brine. As long as any salt remains at the bottom of the cask it is strong enough. Whenever any scum rises, the brine should be scalded, skimmed, and more sugar, salt and saltpetre added. When a piece of beef is put in the brine, rub a little salt over it. If the weather is hot, cut a gash to the bone of the meat, and fill it with salt. Put a heavy weight on the heef in order to keep it under the brine. In very hot weather, it is diffi- cult to corn beef in cold brine before it spoils. On this account it is good to corn it in the pot when boiled. It is done in the following manner ; to six or eight pounds of beef, put a teacup of salt ; sprinkle flour on the side that is to go up on the table, and put it down in the pot, turn the water into the pot after the beef is put in, boil it a couple of hours, then turn in more cold water, and boil it an hour and a half longer. Mutton. — The saddle is the best part to roast — the shoulder and leg are good roasted ; but the best mode to cook the latter is to boil it with a I>iece of salt pork. A little rice boiled with it improves the look of it. Mutton for roasting should have a little butter rubbed on it, and a little .salt and pepper sprinkled on it — some people like cloves and allspice. Put a small piece of butter in the dripping-pan, and baste it frequently. The bony side should be turned towards the fire first, and roasted. For boiling or roasting mutton allow a quarter of an hour to each pound of 150 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. meat. The leg is good cut in gashes, and filled with a dressing, and baked. The dressing is made of soaked bread, a little butter, salt, and pepper, and a couple of eggs. A pint of water with a little butter should be put in a pan. The leg is also good, cut into slices and broiled. It is good corned a few days, and then boiled. The rack is good for broiling — it should be divided, each bone by itself, broiled quick, and buttered, salted and peppered. The breast of mutton is nice baked. The joints off the bx'isket should be separated, the sharp ends of the ribs sawed off, the outside rubbed over with a little piece of butter — salt it, and put it in a bake-pan, with a pint of water. When done, take it up, and thicken the gravy with a little flour and water, and put in a small piece of butter. A tablespoonful of ketchup, cloves and allspice, improve it, but are not es- sential. The neck of mutton makes a good soup. Parsley or celery- heads are a pretty ga' nish for mutton. Veal. — The loin of veal is the best piece for roasting. The breast and rack are good roasted. The breast is also good made into a pot-pie, and the rack cut into small pieces and broiled. The leg is nice for frying, and when several slices have been cut off" for cutlets, the remainder is nice boiled with a small piece of salt pork. Veal for roasting should be salted, peppered, and a litt'e butter rubbed on it, and basted frequently. Put a little water in the dripping-pan, and unless the meat is quite fat, a little butter should be put in. The fillet is good baked, the bone should be cut out, and the place filled with a dressing, made of bread soaked soft in cold water, a little salt, pepper, a couple of eggs, and a tablespoonful of melted butter put in — then sew it up, put it in your bake-pan, with about a pint ot water, cover the top of the meat with some of the dressing. When baked sufficiently, take it up, thicken the gravy with a little flour and water well mixed, put in a small piece of butter and a little wine and ketchup, if you like the gravy rich. Veal Cutlets. — Fry three or four slices of pork until brown — take them up, then put in slices of veal, about an inch thick, cut from the leg. When brown on both sides, take them up ; stir half a pint of water into the gravy, then mix two or three teaspoonfuls of flour with a little water, and stir it in ; soak a couple of slices of toasted bread in the gravy, lay them on the bottom of the platter, place the meat and pork over it, then turn on the gravy. A very nice way to cook the cutlets, is to make a batter with half a pint of milk, an egg beaten to a froth, and flour enough to render it thick. When the veal is fried brown, dip it into the batter, then put it back into the fat, and fry it until brown again. If you have any batter left, it is nice dropped by the large spoonful into the fat, and INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 151 fried till brown, then laid over the veal. Thicken the gravy and turn it over the whole. It takes about an hour to cook this dish. If the meat is tough, it will be better to stew it half an hour before frying it. Calf's Head. — Boil the head two hours, together with the lights and feet. Put in the liver when it has boiled an hour and twenty minuter. Before the head is done, tie the brains in a bag, and boil them with it ; when the brains are done, take them up, season them with salt, pepper, butter, and sweet herbs, or spices if you like — use this as a dressing for the head. Some people prefer part of the liver and feet for dressing ; they are prepared like the brains. The liquor that the calf's head is boiled in, makes a good soup, seasoned in a plain way like any other veal soup, or seasoned turtle fashion. The liquor should stand until the next day after the head is boiled, in order to have the fat rise, and skimmed off. If you wish to have your calf's head look brown, take it up when tender, rub a little butter over it, sprinkle on salt, pepper, and allspice — sprinkle tlour over it, and put before the fire, with a Dutch oven over it, or in a brick oven where it will brown quick. Warm up the brains with a little water, butter, salt, and pepper. Add wine and spices if you like. Serve it up as a dressing for the head. Calf's head is also good baked. Halve it, rub butter over it, put it in a pan, with about a quart of water ; then cover it with a dressing made of bread soaked soft, a little butter, an egg, and season it with salt, pepper, and powdered mace. Slice up the brains, and lay them in the pan with the head. Bake it in a quick oven, and garnish it with slices of lemon, or force meat-balls. Force- Meat Balls. — Chop a pound or two of veal fine ; mix it with one or two eggs, a little butter, or raw pork chopped fine ; season it with salt and pepper, or curry powder. Do it up into balls about the size of half an egg, and fry them brown. Calf's Feet. — Boil them with the head, until tender, then split and lay them round the head, or dredge them with flour after they have been boiled tender, and fry them brown. If you wish for gravy for them, when you have taken them up, stir a little flour into the fat they were fried in ; season it with salt, pepper, and mace. Add a little butter and wine if you like, then turn it over the feet. Calf's Liver and Heart — Are good broiled or fried. Some people like the liver stuffed and baked. A Fillet of Veal. — Cut off the shank of a leg of veal, and cut gashes in the remainder. Make a dressing of bread, soaked soft in cold water, and mashed ; season it with salt, pepper, and sweet herbs ; chop a little raw pork fine, put it in the dressing, and if you have not pork, us« a little but- i^'^iri -'r^ *'^'^ '.''r'^-i''" 152 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. ter instead. Fill the gashes in the meat with part of the dressing, put it in the bake-pan, with just water enough to cover it ; put the remainder of the dressing on top of the meat, and cover it with a heated bake-pan lid. For six pounds of veal, allow two hours steady baking. A leg of veal is nice prepared in this manner, and roasted. Lamb. — The fore and hind quarters are good roasting pieces. Sprinkle salt and pepper on the lamb, turn the bony side toward the fire fii-st ; if not fat, rub a little butter on it, and put a little in the dripping-pan ; baste it frequently. These pieces are good stufied like a fillet of veal, and roasted. The leg is also good, cooked in the same manner ; but it is better boiled with a pound of salt pork. Allow fifteen minutes boiling to each pound of meat. The breast of lamb is good roasted, broiled, or corned and boiled ; it is also good made into a pot-pie. The fore quarter, with the ribs divided, is good broiled. The bones of this, as well as all kinds of meat, when put down to broil, should first be put towards the fire, and browned before the other side is broiled. A little salt, pepper, and butter, should be put on it when you take it up. Lamb is very apt to spoil in warm weather. If you wish to keep a leg several days, put it in brine. It should not be put with pork, as fresh meat is apt to injure it. Lamb's head, feet, and heart, are good, boiled till tender, then cut off the flesh from the head, cut up the heart, and split the feet in two ; put the whole into a pan, with a pint of liquor they were boiled in, together with a little butter, pepper, salt, and half a teacup of tomato ketchup ; thicken the gravy with a little flour ; stew the whole for a few moments. Pepper-grass or parsley is a pretty garnish for this dish. Lamb's Fry. — The heart and sweetbread are nice fried plainly, or dipped into a beaten egg and fine bread crumbs. They should be fried in lard. Turkey. — Take out the inwards, wash both the inside and outside of the turkey. Prepare a dressing made of bread soaked soft in cold water (the water should be drained from the bread, and the bread mfished fine). Melt a small piece of butter, and mix it with the dressing, or else put in salt pork chopped fine ; season it with salt and pepper ; add sweet herbs if you like. Ai ^gg in the dressing makes it cut smoother. Any kind of cooked meat is n^ ^e minced fine, and mixed with the dressing. If the in- wards are used, they ought to be boiled very tender, as it is very diflBcult to cook them through while the turkey ia roasting. Fill the crop and body of the turkey with the dressing, sew it up, tie up the legs and wings, rub on a little salt and butter. Roast it from two to three hours, accord- ing to its size ; twenty-five minutes to every pound is a good rule. The INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 153 turkey should be roasted slowly at first, and basted frequently. A little water should be put into the dripping-pan, when the meat is put down to roast. For a gravy to the turkey, take the liquor that the inwards are boiled in, put into it a little of the turkey drippings, set it where it will boil, thicken it with a little flour and water previously mixed smooth. Season it with salt, pepper, and sweet herbs if you like. Drawn butter is used for boiled turkey. A turkey for boiling should be prepared in the same manner as one for roasting. If you wish to have it look white, tie it up in a cloth, unless you boil rice in the pot. If rice is used, put in two-thirds of a teacup. A pound or two of salt pork boiled with the turkey, improves it. If you wish to make a soup of the liquor in which the turkey is boiled, let it remain until the next day, then skim off the fat. Heat and season it. Goose. — If a goose is tender under the wing, and you can break the skin easily by running the head of a pin across the breast, there is no dan- ger of it being tough. A goose should be dressed in the same manner, and roasted the same length of time as a turkey. Chickens. — Chickens for roasting or boiling should have a dressing prepared like that for turkeys. Half a teacup of rice boiled with the chickens makes them look white. They will be less liable to break if the water is cold when they are put in. A little salt pork boiled with the chickens improves them. If you do not boil pork with them you will need salt. Chickens for broiling should be split, the inwards taken out, and the chicken washed inside and out. Put the bony side down on the gridiron, and broil it very slowly until brown, then turn it, and brown it on the other side. About forty minutes is required to broil a common'sized chicken. For roast chicken, boil the liver and gizzards by themselves, and use the water for gravy to the chickens; cut the inwards in slices, and put them in the gravy. Fricassee. — The chickens should be jointed, the inwards taken out, and the chickens washed. Put them in a stew-pan with the skin side down; on each layer sprinkle salt and pepper ; put in three or four slices of pork, just cover them with water, and let them stew till tender. Then take them up, mix a little flour and water together, and thicken the liquor they were stewed in, add a piece of butter of the size of a hen's egg, then put the chickens back in the stew-pan, and let them stew four or five minutes longer. When you have taken up the chickens, soak two or three slices of toast in the gravy, then put them in your platter, lay the chickens over the toast, and turn the gravy on them. If you wish to brown the chickens, stew them without the pork till tender, then fry the 154 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. pork brown, take it up, put in the chickens, and then fry until a light brown. Pigeons. — Take out the inwards, and stuff the pigeons with a dressinj,^ prepared like that for turkeys, lay them in a pot with the breast side down. Turn in more than enough water to cover them. When stewtil nearly tender, put in a quarter of a pound of butter to every dozen ot' pigeons — mix two or three teaspoonsf ul of flour with a little wat^r, am i stir into the gravy. If you wish to brown them, put on a heated bake-pan lid, an hour before they are done, or else take them up when tender, and fry them in pork fat. They are very good split open and stewed, with a dressing made and warmed up separately with a little of the gravy. Ten- der pigeons are good stuffed and roasted. It takes about two hours to cook tender pigeons, and three hours tough ones. Roast pigeons should be buttered when put to the fire. Ducks — Are good stewed like pigeons, or roasted. Two or three onions in the dressing of wild ducks takes out the fishy taste they are apt to have. If ducks or any other fowls are slightly injured by being kept long, dip them in weak salaratus water before cooking them. Baked or Roast Pig. — A pig for roasting or baking should be small and fat. Take out the inwards, and cut off the first joint of the feet, and then boil them till tender, then chop them. Prepare a dressing of bread soaked soft, the water squeezed out and the bread mashed fine ; season it with salt, pepper, and sweet herbs, add a little butter, and fill the pig with the dressing. Rub a little butter on the outside of the pig, to prevent its blistering. Bake or roast it from two hours and a half to three hours. The pan that the pig is baked in should have a little water put in it. When cooked, take out a little of the dressing and gravy from the pan, mix it with the chopped inwards and feet, put in a little butter, pepper, and salt, and use this for a sauce to the pig. Expose the pig to the open air two or three minutes before it is put on the table, to make it crispy. Sweetbread, Livek, and Heart. — A very good way to cook the sweet- bread, is to fry three or four slices of pork till brown, then take them up and put in the sweetbread, and fry it over a moderate fire. When you have taken up the sweetbread, mix a couple of teaspoonsful of flour witli a little water, and stir it into the fat — let it boil, then turn it over the sweetbread. Another way is to parboil them, and let them get cold, then cut them in pieces about an inch thick, dip them in the yolk of an egg and fine bread crumbs, sprinkle salt, pepper, and sage on them before dipping them in the egg ; fry them a light brown. Make a gravy after you have taken them up, by stiniug a little flour and water mixed smooth in the ipr INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 155 fat, and spices and wine if you like. The liver and heart are good cooked in the same manner, or broiled. Tripe — After being scoured, should be soaked in salt and water seven or eight days, changing the water every other day, then boil it till tender, which will take eight or ten hours. It is then fit for broiling, frying, or pickling. It is pickled in the same manner as souse. Sausages. — Chop fresh pork very fine, the lean and fat together (there should be rather more of the lean than the fat), season it highly with salt, pepper, sage, and other sweet herbs, if you like them — ^a little saltpetre tends to preserve them. To tell whether they are seasoned enough, do up a little into a cake, and fry it. If not seasoned enough, add more season- ing, and fill your skins, which should be previously cleaned thoroughly. A little flour mixed in with the meat tends to prevent the fat from running out when cooked. Sausage-meat is good done up in small cakes and fried. In summer, when fresh pork cannot be procured, very good sausage-cakes may be made of raw beef, chopped fine with salt pork, and seasoned with pepper and sage. When sausages are fried, they should not be pricked, and they will cook nicer to have a little fat put in the frying-pan with them. They should be cooked slowly. If you do not like them very fat, take them out of the pan when nearly done, and finish cooking them on a gridiron. Bologna sausages are made of equal weight each of ham, veal, and pork, chopped very fine, seasoned high, and boiled in casings till ten- der, then dried. Ham. — ^A ham that weighs ten pounds should be boiled four or five hours ; if very salt, the water should be changed. Before it is put on the table take, off the rind. If you wish to ornament it, put whole cloves, or pepper, in the form of diamonds, over it. The Virginia method of curing hams (which is considered very superior), is to dissolve two ounces of salt- petre, two teaspoonsful of saleratus, in a salt pickle, as strong as possible, for every sixteen pounds of ham. Add molasses in the proportion of a gallon to a hogshead of brine, then put in the hams and let them remain three or four weeks. Then take them out of the brine, and smoke them with the hocks downward^ to preserve the juices. They will smoke toler- ably well in the course of a month, but they will be much better to remain in the smoke-house two or three months. Hams cured in this manner are very fine flavoured, and will keep good a long time. Tongues. — Cut off the roots of the tongues; they are not good smoked, but they make nice pies. Take out the pipes and veins, boil them till tender, mince them fine, season the meat with salt, cloves, mace, and cin- namon, put in a little sugar and molasses, moisten the whole with brandy. 156 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. put in a cool place, and it will keep good several months in cold weather, and it is good to make pies of at any time, with the addition of apples chopped fine, and a little butter melted. For the remainder of the tongues, make a brine in the following manner — to a gallon of cold water put a quart of rock salt, an ounce of saltpetre, quarter of a pound of sugar, and couple of teaspoonfuls of blown salt. Put in the tongues, let them remain in it a week, and then smoke them eight or ten days. Chicken Pie. — Joint the chickens, which should be young and tender. Boil them in just sufficient water to cover them. When nearly tender take them out of the liquor, and lay them in a deep pudding-dish, lined with pie-crust. To each layer of chicken, put three or four slices of pork, add a little of the liquor in which they were boiled, and a couple of ounces of butter cut into small pieces — sprinkle a little flour over the whole, cover it with nice pie crust, and ornament the top with some of your pas- try. Bake it in a quick oven one hour. Beef and Mutton Pie, — Take tender meat, pound it out thin, and broil it ten minutes — then cut off the bony and gristly parts, season it highly with salt and pepper, butter it, and cut it into small pieces. Line a pud- ding dish with pastry, put in the meat, and to each layer add a teaspoon- ful of tomato ketchup, together with a tablespoonful of water — sprinkle over flour, and cover it with pie crust, and ornament as you please with pastry. Cold roast or boiled beef and mutton make a good pie, by cutting them into bits, and seasoning them highly with salt and pepper. Put them into a pie dish, turn a little melted butter over them, or gravy, and pour in water till you can just see it at the top. Chicken and Veal Pot Pie. — If the pie is to be made of chickens, joint them — boil the meat until about half done. Take the meat out of the liquor in which it was boiled, and put it in a pot, with a layer of crust to each layer of meat, having a layer of crust on the top. The meat should be seasoned with salt and pepper — cover the whole with the boiled meat liquor. If you wish to have the crust brown, keep the pot covered with a heated bake pan lid. Keep a tea kettle of boiling water to turn in as the water boils away — cold water makes the crust heavy. The crust for the pie is good like that made for fruit pies, with less shortening, but raised pie crust is generally preferred to any other. It is made in the fol- lowing manner — mix together three pints of flour, a teacupful of melted butter, a teaspoonf ul of salt, then turn in half a teacupful of yeast — add cold water to make it sufficiently stiff to roll out. Set it in a warm place to rise, which will take seven or eight hours, unless brewers' yeast is used. When risen, roll it out and cut it into small cakes. Potato pie crust is ■wSfT^ INSTEUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 15T very nice. To make it, boil eight or nine small potatoes, peel and mash them fine, mix with them a piece of butter, of the size of a hen's egg, a teaspoonful of salt, a tumblerful of milk and flour to render it of the right consistency to roll out. When rolled out, cut them into cakes, and put them with the meat. If you happen to have unbaked wheat dough, very good crust may be made of it, by working into it a little lukewarm melted butter. Let it remain, after yoti have rolled and cut it into cakes, about ten or fifteen minutes, before putting it with the meat. Warmed-over Meats. — Boiled or roasted veal makes a nice dish, chop- ped fine, and warmed up, with just sufficient water to moisten it, and a little butter, salt, and pepper added. A little nutmeg and the grated rind of a lemon improve it — none of the white part of the lemon should be used. When well heated through, take it up on a platter, and garnish it with a couple of lemons cut in slices. Fresh or corned beef is good minced fine, with boiled potatoes, and warmed up with salt, pepper, and a little water — add butter, just before you take it up. Some people use the gravy that they have left the day before, for the meat, but it is not as good when warmed over, and there is no need of its being wasted, as it can be clarified, and used for other purposes. Boiled onions, or turnips, are good mixed with mince-meat, instead of potatoes. Veal, lamb, and mutton are good cut into small strips, and warmed with boiled potatoes cut in slices, pepper, salt, a little water — add butter just before you take it up. Roast beef and mutton, if not previously cooked too much, are nice cut in slices, and just scorched on a gridiron. Meat, when warmed over, should be on the fire just long enough to get well heated through — if on the'fire long, most of the juices of the meat will be extracted, and render it very indigestible. Cold fowls are nice jointed, and warmed with a little water, then taken up and fried in butter till brown. A little flour should be sprinkled on them before frying. Thicken the water that the fowls were warmed in — add a little salt, pepper, and butter, and turn it over the fowls. Drawn Butter— Mix two or three teaspoonsful of flour with a little cold water — stir it till free from lumps, thin it, and stir it into half a pint of boiling water — let it boil two or three minutes, then cut up about a quarter of a pound of butter into small pieces, and put it with the flour and water — set it where it will melt gradually. If. carefully mixed, it will be free from lumps — if not, strain it before it is put on the table. If the butter is to be eaten on fish, cut up several soft boiled eggs into it. A little curry powder sprinkled into it, will convert it into curry sauce. ' "y S!'!!!" !■•"''•'■• " 158 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Burnt Butter. — Put a couple of ounces of butter into a frying pan — set it on a fire — when of a dark brown colour, put in half a teaeupful of vinegar, a little pepper and salt. This is nice for fish, salad, or eggs. Roast Meat Gravy. — Meat, when put down to roast, should have about a pint of water in the dripping-pan. A little while before the meat is done, stir up the drippings, put it in a skillet, and set it where it will boil. Mix two or three teaspoonfuls of flour smoothly with a little water, and stir it in the gravy when it boils. Lamb and veil require a little butter in the gravy. The gravy for ])ork and geese should have a little of the dressing and sage mixed with it. If you wish to have your gravies look dark, scorch the flour that you thicken them with, which is easily done by putting it in a pan, setting it on a few coals, and stirring it constantly till it is a dark brown colour, taking care that it does not bum. Enough can be burnt at once to last a long time. Sauce for Cold Meat, Fish, or Salad. — Boil a couple of eggs three minutes ; then mix it with a mustard-spoonful of made mustard, a little salt, pepper, half a tea-cup of salad oil or melted butter, and half a tea-cup of vinegar. A table-spoonful of ketchup improves it. Wi^E Sauce for Venison or Mutton. — Warm half a pint of the drip- pings or liquor the meat was boiled in ; mix a couple of teaspoonsful of scorched flour with a little water, and stir it in when the gravy boils. Season it with salt, pepper, and cloves ; stir a tablespoonful of currant jelly in, and, just before you take it from the fire, half a tumbler of wine. Many people prefer melted currant jelly to any other sauce for venison or mutton. Oyster Sauce, — Take the juice of the oysters, and to a pint put a couple of sticks of mace, a little salt and pepper. Set it on the fii'e ; when it boils, stir in a couple of teaspoonsful of flour, mixed with milk. When it has boiled several minutes, stir in half a pint of oysters, a piece of but- ter of the size of a hen's egg. Let them scald through, then take them up. White Celery Sauce for Boiled Poultry. — Take five or six heads of celery, cut off" the green tops, cut up the remainder into small bits, and boil it tender in half a pint of water ; mix two or three teaspoonfuls of flour smoothly with a little milk ; then add half a teacup more of milk, stir it in, add a small lump of butter and a little salt. When it boils take it up. Brown Sauce for Poultry. — Peel two or three onions, cut them in slices, flour and fry them brown in a little butter ; then sprinkle in a little flour, pepper, salt, and sage ; add half a pint of the liquor the poultry was PfVVI" WMmiM HfPP INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 159 boiled in, and a tablespoonful of ketchup. Let it boil ; then stifin half a wineglass of wine if you like. Savoury Jelly for Cold Meat. — Boil lean beef or veal till tender. If you have any beef or veal bones, crack and boil them with tlie meat (they should be boiled longer than the meat,) together with a little salt pork, sweet herbs, and pepper and salt. When boiled sufficiently, take it off, strain it, and let remain till the next day ; then skim off the fat, take up the jelly, and scrape off the dregs that adhere to the bottom of it ; put in the whites and shells of several eggs, several blades of mace, a little wine and lemon juice ; set it on the fire, stir it well till it boils, then strain it till clear through a jelly bag. Chicken Salad. — Boil a chicken that weighs not more than a pound and a half. When very tender take it up, cut it in small strips, and make the following sauce, and turn over it : Boil four eggs three minutes ; then take them out of the shells, mash and mix them with a couple of tablespoonsf ul of olive oil or melted butter, two-thirds of a tumbler of \ in- egar, a teaspoonful of mixed mustard, a teaspoonful of salt, a little pepper, and essence of celery if you have it — if not, it can be dispensed with. Apple and Cranberry Sauce. — Pare and quarter the apples — if not tart, stew them in cider — if tart enough, stew them in water. When stewed soft, put in a small piece of butter, and sweeten it to the taste with sugar. Another way which is very good, is to boil the apples, without paring them, with a low quinces and molasses, in new cider, till reduced to half the quantity. When cool, strain the sauce. This kind of sauce will keep good several months. It makes very good plain pies, with the addition of a little cinnamon or cloves. To make cranberry sauce nothing more is necessary than to stew the cranberries till soft, then stir in sugar and molasses to sweeten it. Let the sugar scald in it a few minutes. Strain if you like— it is very good without straining. Pudding Sauce. — Stir to a cream a teacup of butter, with two of brown sugar, then add a wineglass of wine or cider ; flavour it with nutmeg, rose- water, or essence of lemon. If you wish to have it liquid, heat two-thirds of a pint of water, boiling hot, mix two or three teaspoonsful of flour with a little water and stir it into the boiling water. As soon as it boils up well, stir it into the butter and sugar. Mushroom Ketchup. — Put a layer of fresh mushrooms in a deep dish, sprinkle a little salt over them, then put in another layer of fresh mush- rooms and salt, and so on till you get in all the mushrooms. Let them remain several days ; then mash them fine, and to each quart put a table- spoonful of vinegar, half a teaspoonful of black pepper, and a quarter of a Ifi-MLUilll II nni,imp|i^. ,M^4 « « ■^P.'T<^pn8 if you like — lay on several bits of your fried pork, and crackers previously soaked soft in cold water. This process repeat till you get in all the fish, then turn on water enough to just cover them — put on a heated bake pan lid. When the fish have stewed about twenty minutes, take them up and mix a couple of teaspoonsful of flour with a little water and stir it into the gravy, also a little butter and pepper. Half a pin. of white wine, spices, and ketchup, will improve it. Bass and cod make the best chowder, black fish and clams make tolerably good ones. The hard part of the clams should be cut oflf and thrown away. Stuffed and Baked Fish. — Soak bread in cold water till soft, drain off" the water, mash the bread fine, mix it with a tablespoonf ul of melted but- ter, a little pepper and salt — a couple of raw eggs makes the dressing cut smoother — add spices if you like. Fill the nsh with the dreasing, sew it up, put a teacup of water in your bake pan, and a small piece of butter, lay in the fish, bake it from forty to fifty minutes. Fresh cod, bass, and shad, are suitable fish for baking. Fish Cakes. — Cold boiled fresh fish, or salt codfish, is nice minced fine, with potatoes, moistened with a little water, and a little butter put in done up into cakes the size of common biscuit, and fried brown in pork fat or butter. Fish Force-Meat Balls. — Take a little uncooked fish, chop it fine, to- gether with a little raw salt pork ; mix it with one or two raw eggs, a few bread crumbs and season the whole with pepper and spices. Add a little ketchup if you like, do them up into small baiis, and fry them till brown. Clams. — Wash and {)utthem in a pot, with just water enough to pre- vent the shells burning at the bottom of the pot. Heat them til! the shells open — take the clams out cf them, and wann them with a little of the clanx liquor, a little salt, butter, and pepper. Toast a slice or two of bread, soak it in the clam liquor, lay it in a deep dish, and turn the clan's on to it. For clam pancakes, mis. flour and milk together to form a thick batter — soi'ie cooks use the clam liquor, but it does not make the pancakes as light as the milk. To each pint of (he milk put a couple of ei^ga and a fuw clams — they are good taken out of the shells without stewiuj,', and cliopped fine, or stewed, and put into the cakes whole. V^ery large long clums are good taken uut of the shells without stewing, and Itr.-iled. 164 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. Stewed Oysters. — Strain the oyster liquor, rinse the bits of shells off the oysters, then turn the liquor back on to the oysters, and put them in a stew-pan — set them where they will boil up, then turn them on to but- tered toast — salt, pepper, and butter them to your taste. Some cooks add a little walnut ketshup, or vinegar. The oystera should not be cooked until just before they are to be eaten. To Fry Oysters. — Take those that are large, dip them in beaten eggs, and then in flour or fine bread crumbs — fry them in lard, till of a light brown. They are a nice garnish for fish. They will keep good for several months if fried when first caught, salted and peppered, then put into a bottle, and corked tight. Whenever they are to be eaten, warm them in a littlo water. Oyster Pancakes. — Mix equal quantities of milk and oyster juice to- gether. To a pint of the liquor when mixed, put a pint of wheat flour, a few oysters, a couple of eggs, and a little salt. Drop by the large spoonful into hot lard. Oyster Pie. — Line a deep pie-plate with pie crust ; fill it with dry pieces of bread, cover it over with pufi" paste ; bake it till a light brown, either in a quick oven or bake pan. Have ihe oysters just stewed by the time the crust is done ; take off" the upper crust, remove the pieces of bread, put in the oysters, season them with salt, pepper, and butter. A little walnut ketchup improves the pie, but is not essential — cover it with the cmst. Scalloped Oysters. — Pouna rusked bread or crackers fine; butter scallop .shells or tins, sprinkle on the bread crumbs, then put in a layer of oysters, a small lump of butter, pepper, salt, and a little of the oyster juice; then put on anol 'ler layer of crumbs and oysters, and so on til' the shells are filled, having a layer of crumbs at the top. Bake them till a light bi'own. Directions for Pickling. — Vinegar for pickling should be good, but not of the shai*pest kind. Brass utensils should be used for pickling. They should be thoroughly cleaned before using, and no vinegar should be allow- ed to cool in them, as the rust formed by so doing is very poibcnous. Boil alum and salt in the vinegar, in the proportion of half a teacup of oalt, and a tablespoonful of alum, to three gallons of vinegar. Stone and wooden vessels are the only kind of utensils that are good to keep pickles in. Vessels that have had any grease in will not do for pickles, as no vvashin;,' will kill the grease that the pot has absorbed. All kinds of pickles shoulu be stirred up occasionally. If there are any soft ones among them, they should be taken out, the vinegar scalded, and turned back while hot — if ver^- weak, throw it away and use fresh vinegar. Wheuever any scum INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 165 rises, the vinegar needs scalding Tf you do not wish to ha\ e all your pickles spiced, it is a good plan to keep a stone pot of spiced vinegar by itself, and put in a few of your pickles a short time before they are to be eaten. Wheat Bread. — For six common sized loaves of bread, take three pints of boiling water, and mix it with five or six quarts of flour. When thor- oughly mixed, add three pints of cold water. Stir it till the whole of the dough is of the .same temperature. When lukewarm, stir in half a pint of family yeast (if brewer's yeast is used, a less quantity will answer), a ta- blespoonful of salt, knead in flour till stiff" enough to mould up and free from lumps. The more the bread is kneaded, the better it will be. Cover it over with a thick cloth, and if the weather is cold, set it near a fire. To ascertain when it has risen, cut it through the middle with a knife — if full of small holes like a sponge, it is sufficiently light for baking. It should be baked as soon as light. It your bread should get sour before you are read^ to bake it. dissolve two or more teaspoonsful of saleratus (according to the acidity of it) in a teacup of milk or water, strain it on to the dough, work in well — then cut off" enough for a loaf of bread, mould it up well, slash it on both sides to prevent its cracking when baked, put it in a but- tered tin pan. The bread should stand ten or twelve minutes in the pan before baking it. If you like y^ur bread baked a good deal, let it stand in the oven an hour and a half. When the wheat is grown, it makes bet- ter bread to wet the flour entirely with boiling water. It should remain till cool before working in the yeast. Some cooks have an idea that it kills the life of the flour to scald it, but it is a mistaken idea — it is sweeter for it, and will keep good much longer. Bread made in this way is nearly as good as that which is wet with milk. Care must be taken not to put the yeast in when the dough is hot, as it will scald it, and prevent its rising. Most ovens require heating an hour and a half for bread. A brisk fire should be kept up, and the doors of the room should be kept shut if the weather is cold. Pine and ash, mixed together, or birch wood, is the best for heating an oven. To ascertain if your oven is of the right tem- perature, when cleaned, throw in a little flour ; if it browns in the course 'jf a minute, it is sufficiently hot ; if it turns black directly, wait several minutes before putting in the things that are to be baked. If the oven •Ices not bake well, set in a furnace of live coals. Sponge Bread. — For four loaves of bread, take three quarts of wheat Hour and the same quantity of boiling water; mix them well together. Let it remain till lukewarm, then add a tcacupful of family, or half a tea- cup of distillery yeast. Set it in a warm place to rise. When light, knead -^7^ 166 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. in flour till stiff" enough to mould up, then let it stand till risen again, be- fore moulding it up. Rye Bread. — Wet up rye flour with lukewarm milk (water will do to wet it up with, but it will not make the bread so good). Put in the same proportion of yeast as for wheat bread. For four or five loaves of bread, put in a couple of teaspoonsful of salt. A couple of tablespoonsful of melted butter makes the crust more tender. It should not be kneaded as stiff* as wheat bread, or it will be hard when baked. When light, take it out into pans without moulding it up ; let it remain in them about twenty minutes before baking. Brown Bread. — Brown bread is made by scalding Indian meal, and stirring into it, when lukewarm, about the same quantity of rye flour as Indian meal ; add yeast and salt in the same proportion as for other kinds of bread. Bake it between two and three hours. Indian Bread. — Mix Indian meal with cold water, stir it into boiling water, let it boil half an hour; stir in a Uttle salt, take it from the fire, let it remain till lukewarm, then stir in yeast and Indian meal to render it of the consistency of unbaked rye dough. When light, take it out into buttered pans, let it remain a few minutes, then bake it two hours and a half. PoTATle of ounces of butter, and put to the milk and flour, together ■V ith a couple of eggs, and a teaspoonful of salt. When cool, stir in half a teacup of yeast, and flour to make it stiff* enough to mould up. Put it in a warm place. When light do it up into simall rolls ; lay le rolls on flat buttered tins ; let them reraain twenty minutes before baking. Butter Bij ;uit. — Melt a teacup of butter, mix it with two thirds of a pint of milk (if you have not any milk, water may be substituted, but the biscuit will not be as nice). Put in a teaspoonful of salt, half a tea- ■r-^ INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 1G7 cup of yeast (milk yeast is the best, see directions for making it) — stir in flour till it is stiff enough to mould up. A couple of eggs improve the biscuit, but ai'e not essential. Set the dough in a warm place ; when risen, mould the dough with the hand into small cakes, lay them on flat tins that have been buttered. Let them remain half an hour before they are baked. Buttermilk Biscuit. — Dissolve a couple of tcaspoonfuls of saleratus in a teacup of sour milk — mix it with a pint of buttermilk, and a couple of teaspoonsful of salt. Stir in flour until stiff enough to mould up. Mould it up into small cakes and bake them immediately. Hard Biscuit. — Weigh out four pounds of flour, and rub three pounds and a half of it with four ounces of butter, four beaten eggs,, and a couple of teaspoonfuls of salt. Moisten it with milk, pound it out thin with a rolling-pin, sprinkle a little of the reserved flour over it lightly, roll it up and pound it out again, sprinkle on more of the flour — this operation con- tinue to repeat till you get in all the reserved flour ; then roll it out thin, cut it into cakes with a tumbler, lay them on flat buttered tins, cover them with a damp cloth to prevent their drying. Bake them in a quick oven. Potato Biscuit. — Boil mealy potatoes very soft, peel and mash them. To four good-sized potatoes put a piece of butter of the size of a hen's egg, and a teaspoonful of salt. When the butter has melted, put in half a pint of cold milk. If the milk cools the potatoes, put in a quarter of a pint of yeast, and flour to make them cf the right consistency to mould up. Set them in a warm place ; when risen, mould them up with the hand — let them remain ten or fifteen minutes before baking them. Sponge Biscuit. — Stir into a pint of lukewarm milk half a teacup of melted butter, a teaspoonful of salt, half a teacup of family, or a table- spoonful of brewers' yeast (the latter is the best) ; add flour till it is a very stiff batter. When li^ht, drop this mixture by the large spoonful on to flat buttered tins, several inches apart. Let them remain a few minutes before baking. Bake them in a quick oven till they are a light brown. . Crackers. — Rub six ounces of butter with two pounds of flour — dis- solve a couple of teaspoonfuls of saleratus in a wine-glass of milk, and strain it on to the flour — add a teaspoonful of salt, and milk enough to enable you to roll it out. Beat it with a rolling-pin for half an hour, pounding it out thin — cut it into cakes with a' tumbler — bake them about fifteen minutes, then take them ftom the oven. When the rest of your 108 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. things are baked sufficiently, take them out, set in the crackers, and let them remain till baked hard and crispy. Cream Cakes. — Mix half a pint of thick cream with the same quantity of milk, four eggs, and flour to render them just stiff enough to drop on buttered tins. They should be dropped by the large spoonful several inches apart, and baked in a quick oven. Crumpets. — Take three teacups of raised dough, and work into it with the hand half a teacup of melted butter, three eggs, and milk to render it a thick batter. Turn it into a buttered bake pan, let it remain fifteen min- utes, then put on a bake pan lid heated so as to scorch flour. It will bake in half an hour. Rice Cakes. — Mix a pint of rice boiled soft with a pint of milk, a tea- spoonful of salt, and three eggs beaten to a froth. Stir in rice or wheat flour till of the right consistency to fry. If you like them baked, add two more eggs, and enough more flour to make them stifi* enough to roll out, and cut them into cakes. Buckwheat Cakes. — Mix a quart of buckwheat flour with a pint of lukewarm milk (water will do, but is not as good), and a teacup of yeast; set it in a warm place to rise. When light (which will be in the course of eight or ten hours if family yeast is used ; if brewers' yeast is used they will rise much quicker), add a teaspoonful of salt — if sour, the same quantity of saleratus, dissolved in a little milk and strained. If they are too thick, thin them with cold milk or water. Fry them in just fat enough to prevent their sticking to the frying pan. Green-Corn Cake. — Mix a pint of grated green-corn with three table- spoonsful of milk, a teacup of flour, half a teacup of melted butter, one egg, a teaspoonful of salt, and half a teaspoonful of pepper. Drop this mixture into hot butter by the spoonful, let the cakes fry eight or ten minutes. These cakes are nice served up with meat for dinner. Indian- Corn Cake. — Stir into a quart of sour or butter-milk a couple of teaspoonsful of saleratus, a little salt, and sifted Indian meal to render it a thick batter — a little cream improves the cake — bake it in deep cake pans about an hour. When sour milk cannot be procured, boil sweet milk, and turn it on to the Indian meal ; when cool put in three beaten eggs to a quart of the meal, add salt to the taste. Indian Slap Jacks. — Scald a quart of Indian meal, when lukewarm turn, stir in half a pint of flour, half a teacup of yeast, and a little salt. When light fry them in just fat enough to prevent their sticking to the frying pan. Another method of making them, which is very nice, is to turn boiling milk or water on to the Indian meal, in the proportion w INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 169 of a quart of the former to a pint of the latter, stir in three tablespoons- ful of flour, three eggs well beaten, and a couple of teaspoonsful of salt. Johnny Cakes. — Scald a quart of sifted Indian meal with sufficient water to make it a very thick batter ; stir in two or three teaspoonsful of salt, mould it with the hand into small cakes. In order to mould them up it will be necessary to rub a good deal of flour on the hands, to pre- vent their sticking. Fry them in nearly fat enough to cover them. When brown on the under side they should be turned. It takes about twenty minutes to cook them. When cooked, split and butter them. Another way of making them which, is nice, is to scald the Indian meal, and put in saleratus, dissolved in milk, and salt in the proportion of a teaspoonful of each to a quart of meal. Add two or three tablespoonsful of wheat flour and drop the batter by the large spoonful into a frying pan. The batter should be of a very thick consistency, and tliere should be just fat enough in the frying pan to prevent the cakes sticking to it. Hoe Cakes. — Scald a (^uart of Indian meal with just water enough to make a thick batter ; stir in a couple of teaspoonsful of salt, and two tablespoonsful of butter ; turn it into a buttered bake pan, and bake it half an hour. Muffins — Mix a quai't of wheat flour smoothly with a pint and a half of luke warm milk, half a teacup of yeast, a couple of beaten eggs, a heaping teaspoonful of salt, and a couple of tablespoonsful of lukewarm melted butter ; set the batter in a warm place to rise : when light, butter your muffin cups, turn in the mixture, and bake the muffins till a light brown. Raised Flour Waffles. — Stir into a quart of flour sufficiently luke- warm milk to make a thick batter — the milk should be stirred in gradually so as to have it free from lumps — put in a tablespoonf ul of melted butter, a couple of beaten eggs, a teaspoonful of salt, and half a teacup of yeast ; when risen, till your waffle-irons with the batter, bake them on a hot bed of coals. When they have been on the fire br'^Tcen two and three min- utes, turn the waffle-irons over ; when brown on both sides they are sufficiently baked. The waffle-irons should be well-greased with lard, and A ery hot, before each one is put in. The waffles should be buttered as soon as cooked. Serve them up with powdered white sugar and cinnamon. li^UiCK Waffles. — Mix flour and cold milk together, to make a thick batter. To a quart of the flour put six beaten eggs, a tablespoonful of If i|*!«f ^ !jie'fl;*M».*'* 170 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiEDIA. melted butter, and a teasjioonful of salt. Some cooks add a quarter of a pound of sugar, and half a nutmeg. Bake them immediately. Rice Waffles. — Take a teacup and a half of boiled rice, warm it with a pint of milk, mix it smooth, then take it from the fire, stir in a pint of cold milk and a teaspoonlul of salt. Beat four eggs, and stir them in, together with sufficient flour to make a thick batter. Rice Wafers. — Melt a quarter of a pound of butter, and mix it with a pound of rice flour, a tablespoonful of salt, and a wine glass of wine. Beat four eggs, and stir in, together with just cold milk enough to enable you to roll them out easily. They should be rolled out as thin as possible, cut with a wine glass into cakes, and baked in a moderate oven, on buttered flat tins. ^rifaiug. DRIVING A SINGLE HORSE. 'AKING YOUR SEAT. — In commencing these instructions, we will suppose your horse to have been harnessed and brought to your door. It is of course to be expected that the groom has seen to his ahoes, his harness, and the axles of the wheels ; still no prudent driver would mount a vehicle in which was a high-couraged horse, without looking to see that the reins were properly fastened to the bit, the head-piece properly or, the throat-lash fastened, the traces, back -band and belly-band quite as they ought to be, nor indeed without giving a look around his horse to see that his shoes were on, which can of course be done without holding up the foot ; and we will here remark, that if it be necessary to see that the mp.in points of your harness are right, when you have the advantage of the daylight, it is even more necessary that a critical examination take place by night ; this can be effected as well by the hand as by the eyes ; and we should advise you particularly to observe that the reins are correctly placed, as many acci- dents have arisen from their being crossed. Having attended to these things, take the reins and whip in your right hand ; then mount the DRIVING A SINGLE HORSE. 171 vehicle, and transfer the reins to the left hand, one of them (the near rein) passing over the upper finger, the other between it and the next ; then close the thumb upon them, and they will be firmly grasped in the hand. • Whilst turning, or when driving a high-couraged horse, and in cri- tical situations generally, the right hand must be at all times called to the assistance of the left ; thus the reins being grasped as before stated, you pass the second and third fingers between them, and loosening your hold on the off rein a little, let the right hand have complete control of its guidance, still, however, firmly holding both reins in your left. This position gives you great power over your horse. Starting. — Holding your reins as described, start your horse either by your voice or by the reins gently feeling his mouth, but neither pulling at it, nor jerking the reins. Many high-couraged horses have been made jibbers by the stupidity of a driver. If a young horse's mouth is hurt, by the driver checking him eveiy time he starts, he will be sure to incur some vice ; the habit of rearing or of jibbing will most proHably be the result. The learned may say, " Suppose, however, he refuse to start, what then is to be done ? " We reply, have patience, let the groom lead him oft", caress him, speak quietly and encourage him to proceed, and if he presses on one side, as if he wanted to go round, turn him round, if there be room, and as soon as he has his head the right way, give him his liberty, and, by the voice or the whip, urge him to proceed. Much must here be left to the judgment ; a touch with the whip in such circumstances would make some horses jib, while it would immediately start others ; some it would be ad- visable to urge only with the voice, and to have a person to push the gig on, so that the collar should scarcely touch the shoulder in starting. Sup- posing there is not room for the horse to turn, and he persists in his attempt to do so, we have always found it best in such a case to desire the groom to let his head alone, and to go to the side towards which the horse is in- clined to turn, and then push against the extreme end of the shaft ; if he does this, speaking quietly to him all the time, forty-nine horses out of fifty, that are not irreclaimable jibbers,.will after a short struggle, proceed. The sooner you get rid of a confirmed jibber the better ; no quality such a brute can possess would repay you for the trouble the vice occasions ; which is, besides, always a dangerous one. The Road. — Having started your horse, koep your eyes open, looking well before you, not merely for the purpose of avoiding other carriages, but looking up the road, and on each side of it, so as to notice if there be any impediment to your horse's progress ; any loose stones which he might tread upon, and thereby be thrown down ; any sudden rising or fallings in "TT ^wm "■'V*JMI"P.» ■IJI^.'Iflll^LHIW'JPWV ■"1^*',^ 172 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. -y the road, or any object which might frighten him. Always keep your hoi'so well in hand — that is, feel his mouth ; if you do not, you are never pre- pared for emergencies : if he stumbles, you cannot help him to revover his legs; if he starts, you cannot check him. But in keeping him in hand, as it is called, you may still fall into error, for if the horse be very light in the mouth, there is a probability that an inexperienced person may so check him as not only to impede his progress, but to put him out of tem- per ; and as nothing is more difficult for a novice to manage than a very light-mouthed horse, when he once takes it in his head to have his own way, you must be careful merely to feel his mouth so as to have the reins at command, but still not sufficiently tight to check him ; this is called driving with a light hand, and indeed is the perfection of driving, when it has become so habitual as to have assumed the character of " a style." DIinOULT SITUATIONS FOR YOUNG DRIVERS. TuSKiNO THE B^T AND RUNNING AwAY. — Some ill-tempered horses will become violent upon being in any manner put out of their way — such, for instance, as being suddenly stopped two or three times within a short distance, or receiving a sudden cut with the whip ; but instead of exhibiting this violence by rearing or kicking, they will seize the bit iir their mouths, close against the tusk, and run violently to one side of the road, as if with the intention of landing you in a ditch, or giving you a resting-place in a shop-window. The best mode is to stop them at once by a quiet pull, speaking softly, as if nothing were the matter ; and then coax them into good temper. If this cannot be done, give them the head for a moment (a short one it must be), and after bestowing a violent switch across the ears, snatch the reins suddenly towards the side to which the horse is bearing, which will probably, from the surprise, disen- gage the bit, and enable you almost simultaneously either to pull him up or draw him away from the danger. You will observe we have said on the side to which he is pressing, for it would be all but impossible to diaw him to the other ; for such a brute always seizes the bit by the branch ov side which is next to the place he is running to, knowing or rather thinking, you will pull the other rein, in which case the side of the face would aid him in resisting your efforts. The remedy for this is a ring bit, for it has no branches for the horse to get hold of, and if he merelv seizes that part of the bit which is in his mouth, a sudden jerk will instantly disengage it, that is, if it be done with sufficient decision. Frequently, however, a horse tusks the bit, as it is called, with a view of bolting; if you cannot disengage the bit in the way directed, you have DIFFICULT SITUATIONS FOU YOUNG DRIVERS. 178 only to stop him as quickly as you can. Recollect, however, that a con- tinual dead pull will never stop a runaway horse, unless indeed you have the strength of Hercules ; his mouth soon becomes callous to the action of the sharpest bit. Nor is it proper to keep jerking a horse under such circumstances, as that would rather urge him to increase his speed. The ordinary mode is to take the reins short in your hands, and then by a sudden, steady movement of the body backwards, exerting at the same time all the strength of the ainns, endeavour to pull him up ; this, repeated two or three times, will generally be effectual. Suppose it not to succeed adopt the following plan : Cross the reins in your hand — that is, place the right rein in the left hand, the left in the right hand — take them very short, and then suddenly put all your strength to them with a sudden jerk but continue the pressure, violently sawing them at the same time ; if this will not bring the horse to his haunches at the first attempt, let him par- tially have his head — that is, sufficiently slacken your pull to give his mouth time to recover its feeling — and then repeat the effort. Stumbling and Slipping. — If your horse be kept well in hand, you will generally be able to keep him from absolutely coming down. You will naturally put more force to your pull upon his making the stumble, and this jerk, if succeeded by a strong, continuous aid, generally keeps him on his legs ; a smart stroke with the whip should follow, to remind him that this carelessness is not to be repeated. A horse that is apt to stumble, or even one that from his form is likely to stumble, should not only always be kept well in hand, but also be kept alive by now and then being reminded, without actually punishing him, that his driver has a whip in his hand. A horse with his head set too forward — that is, low in the withers — is almost sure to come down sooner or later, particularly if his fore-legs " stand at all under him," as it is technically termed — that is slant a little inward. Stumbling, however, be it remembered, is totally distinct from slipping; wood pavements will give the tyro plenty of opportunities of seeing the difference. If a horse slips, a sudden jerk would probably throw him down ; in such a case the driver must aid the horse by a strong steady hold, letting him, as it were, lean on the bit to help himself to stand. It requires some nerve thus to aid the horse with- out being induced to jerk him by the suddenness of the slip. Jibbing is that sort of obstinacy in a horse which causes him to plant his fore-feet upon the ground and refuse to move. If we are asked what is the best mode to adopt with a jibber, we say. Patience ! This, how- ever, must be qualified by the temper of the horse. Some jibbers (6vi very few) may be started by sudden and severe whipping ; ninety -nine .•..Mt"^;.*. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V 4,. for there is a chance of your being able to pull them up, but none of your escaping severe contusions, if not broken limbs or loss of life, should you throw yourself from the vehicle. Down Hill. — If these are of an ordinary character, we would not advise locking the wheel except with a heavy load, or when your horses will not hold back ; besides the trouble, locking is a great disadvantage, for by letting out your horses when you have passed the pitch of a hill, the motion of the carriage takes it half way up an ordinary rise before your horses feel the weight, and this, in a day's journey, will be found of considerable importance. If your horses will not hold back, or are not master's of their load, locking the wheel becomes necessary when the hill is long or steep. When the hill is not very steep, and the near edge of the road happens to be of a rough, rutty nature, or has gravel or granite strewn upon it, take your near wheel a few inches from the resisting sub- stance, which will supply the additional friction, or hite necessary to check the increasing momentum of a downward pace, and obviate the necessity of skidding. Stopping. — When pulling up, accustom your horses to stop by some signal, and draw in the reins equally, unless either of the animals shovv.s a disinclination to obey the notice. Young horses should be stopped veiy 9i i i' pp RECORDS OF TROTTING HORSES OF 2.19 AND UNDER. 177 gradnnlly, and eight or ten yards allowed them to pull up in ; for they are apt to resist attempts to stop them short. Matchin'J Horses. — Some persons are particular as to the colour of their horses, but it is much more important that their paces and their tem- pers .should match, than that their colours should be alike ; for if you have one slow and the other fast — one irritable and nervous, and the other stu- pid and obstinate — one free, and the other like a lawyer that will not move without being paid — you are sure to weary out the free, nervous, and fast horse, by whipping up the other to his pace ; and although you may hold him back, you will take as much strength out of him as though he was doing all the work. If, therefore, your horses do not match in pace and freeness, get rid of the dull one, or depend on it your work will soon kill the other ; besides, you can never have any pleasure in driving. EEOORDS OF TEOTTINa HOESES OF 2.19 AND UNDEE. Mauds 2.l0i St. Julien 2.11^ Rarus 2.13i Goldsmith Maid 2. 14 Trinket 2.14 Hopeful 2.141 Lulu 2.15 Smuggler 2.16^ Hattie Woodward 2.16^ Darby 2.16| Lucille Golddust 2.16^ American Girl 2.16^ Occident 2J6| Charley Ford 2.16| Gloster. 2.17 Dexter 2.17i SoSo 2.17i Piedmont 2,17^ Edwin Thome 2.17^ Santa Glaus 2.17^ Hannis 2. 17| Proteine 2.18 Judge Fullerton 2.18 Nettie 2.18 Red Cloud 2.18 Great Eastern 2.13 Edwin Forrest 2.18 Dick Swiveler 2.18 Kate Sprague 2.18 Robert MacGregor 2.18 Lady Thorne 2.18J Lady Maude 2.18i Midnight 2.18^ Albemarle 2.19 jEcro00e, mxb ^oto ta f lajj it. *HE game of Lacrosse has, perhaps, attracted more attention amongst young men than any other field sport that has ever been introduced to their notice. That this game, comparatively unknown until within the past few years, should have so suddenly become pop- ular, seems almost a wonder. If ever any game has been persecuted, abused, or belied by envious rivals, that game has certainly been Lacrosse ; and yet, in spite of all oppo- sition and ridicule it has received from the adherents of older established sports — in spite of its being declared unscientific, and not at all gentlemanly, by those whose notions were rather prudish — this game has, on account of its own intrinsic merits, not only been adopted by Young Canada as the National Game of the Dominion, but has also won its way high into the favour of athletics, both in England and the United States. It is affii-med by its opponents that there is no science in the game, it is all hard work, and is injurious to tiie constitution. A good player seldom hurts himself; it is only the novice who does the hard work, and gets no return for it. Lacrosse is yet in its infancy; the fine points in the game are only now becoming apparent. But the day will come when the pub- lie verdict on it, even as a scientific game, will be materially changed, and its opponents be obliged to confess that, measured only by their scientific standards, it will take its place as king of out-door sports. Lacrosse has so many advantages over other games that, perhaps, it will not be out of place to mention a few of them. It is the cheapest of all games. It requires no pads, gauntlets, or other expensive equipments. A single lacrosse stick, and simple running gear is all that is required for action. It developes the muscles better than any sport we know of. The muscular action is confined to no particular part, as in rowing, skating, or football — it exercises equally the arms, legs and body, and at the same time there is sufficient excitement about it to make it the most fascinat- ing of games. It develops self-reliance, and awakens the energies of all who would excel in it. It is conducive to temperance and sobriety, for THE ORIGINAL GAME. 179 no young man can belong to a "first twelve" or be a " crack " player, who does not attend to his way of living, and shun entirely the flowing bowl, or other vices of a more questionable character. It is so simple to look at that anyone can readily master its first principles in a few minutes, but to excel at it requires careful and steady practice, which not only acts healthfully on the body, but exercises an exhilarating effect upon the mind. The game is always alive, and no player need ever complain that he has not had innings enough. As a matter of fact, it is nearly all innings, if a player only chooses to make it so. THE OEIGINAL GAME. Lacrosse, or Bagataivay, as it msas originally called, is an Indian game, and was used by them not only as a recreation, but also as a training school in which to quicken and strengthen the body, and accustom their young warriors to close combat so as to fit them for the sterner realities of the war path. It was a sport emphatically suited to the nature and development of the young Indian warriors, and it is not surprising, as au old writer tells us, that amongst some of the tribes it became " the chief object of their lives." The original game had no fixed or definite rules by which it was gov- erned : each tribe laid down laws of its own, but in all cases it was mind which was made subservient to matter, instead of vice versa. As far back as we can trace, we find the original Crosse to have been of a very different .shape to that in present use. Those of the Choctaws, Chippewas, Cherokees and Creeks were about three feet long, bent into an oblong hoop, at one end large enough to hold the ball. Those of the Sacs, Sioux, Obijways, Dacotahs, Six Nations, Poutawatamies, and most other tribes, were about the same length, but the hoop wascircuUxr. None of the original sticks were over four feet long. The net-work of the oblong hoop was generally three inches long and two wide ; that of the round hoops twelve inches in circumference. The former was literally net-work, but the latter was simply two strings tied in the centre and fastened in four places to the hoop ; and both were sufficiently bagged to catch and hold the ball. The net- work or strings were originally of wat- tup (the small roots of the spruce tree used for sewing bark canoes) ; after- wards they were made of deerskin. Among the Chocktaws, Cherokees, Creeks, &c., each player carried two sticks, one in each hand. The ball was caught and carried between them. There was considerable difference n the play with one stick and two — the former by far the most difficult. 180 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. The manner of picking up was peculiar, owing to its shape. As the ball lay on the ground, it was almost covered with the hoop, and by a pecu- liar twist of the wrist and arm from Itft to right, scooped up in one mo- tion. The ball was thrown from it by a jerk, and could not be pitched so far as with the present stick, as it received but little impetus. The Indians dodged very little, except when the ball was caught or picked up in a crowd, and dodging was necessary. This seems the more remarkable when we consider the shape of the stick, and the peculiar faciliLies for dodging afforded by the concavity of the netting, and the smallness of the hoop which retained the ball. The original Ball was about the size of a tennis ball though differing among the tribes, and was first made of deerskin or rawhide, stuffed with hair, and sewed with sinews. Some of the tribes used a heavy wooden ball — generally a knot — while others improvised balls of the bark of the pine-tree. The earliest Goal was any marked rock or tree that happened to be convenient. At grand matches, however, they were more particular, and used for each goal a single pole or stake, eight feet high and two inches in diameter, or two poles as at present. The distance between the gaols varied in proportion to the number of players, from five hundred yards to a mile and a half and more. Where only one flag pole was used, it was counted game by merely putting the ball past the line of the pole although in some*tribes the pole was required to be struck with the ball before it could be coxmted game. The Umpires were generally the old medicine men of the tribe, whoso decision was in all cases final. The Dress of the players was generally as primitive as can be imagined — wearing only a light breech-cloth, and on grand occasions painting their faces and bodies, and decorating themselves with fantastic bead- work and feathers of various colours. Some tribes wore a curious kind of tail fastened to the small of the back, made of white horse-hair, or dyed porcupine quills, and a mane or neck of horse-hair dyed various colours. l^heir matches were not decided like ours by the winning of three games out of five, but sometimes lasted for days together. They were really trials of strength and endurance as well as of skill. LAWS OF LACROSSE. LAWS OF LACROSSE. 181 Eevised and adopted at the reonjanization of the National Amateur Lacrosse Associa- tion of Canada, Toronto, ith May, 1876, and amended at Montreal, August 3rd, 1877, Toronto, June 1th, 1878, Montreal, June 6th, 1879, Toronto, June ith, 1880, Montreal, June 3rd, 1881, Toronto, June 3rd, 1882, and Montreal, April \3th, 1883. Rule I. — The Crosse. Section 1. The Crosse may be of any length to suit the player ; woven with cat-gut, which must not be bagged. ("Cat-gut" is intended to mean raw-hide, gut, or clock-string ; not cord or soft leather). The netting must be flat when the ball is not on it. In its widest part the crosse shall not exceed one foot. A string must be brought through a hole at the side of the tip of the turn, to prevent the point of the stick catching an opponent's crosse. A leading-string resting upon the top of the stick may be used, but must not be fastened, so as to form a pocket, lower down the stick than the end of the length-strings. The length -strings must be woven to within two inches of their termination, so that the ball cannot catch in the meshes. Sec. 2. No kind of metal, either in wire or sheet, nor screws or nails, to stretch strings, shall be allowed upon the crosse. Splices must be made either with string or gut. Sec. 3. Players may change their crosses during a match. Rule II. — The Ball. The Ball must be India-rubber sponge, not less than eight, nor^more than nine inches in circumference. In matches it must be fumished^by the challenged party. Rule III. — The Goals. The Goals must be at least 125 yards from each other, and in any posi- tion agreeable to the captains of both sides. The top of the flag-poles must be six feet above the ground, including any top ornament, and^ six feet apart. In matches they must be furnished by the challenged party. Rule IV. — The Goal Crease. No attacking player must be within six feet of either of the flag-poles, unless the ball has passed Cover-point's position on the field. '*''tI m ,'.'jHH^^^H ^lii^H 182 •fHE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. 1 1 Rule V. — Umpires. Section 1. There shall be one Umpire at each Goal. They shall be dis- interested parties, whose reputation for truthfulness and integrity are well known and above suspicion. They shall not be members of either club engaged in a match, nor shall they be changed during its progress without the consent of both Captains. Sec. 2. Their jurisdiction shall last during the match for which they are appointed. They shall not change goals during a match. Sec. 3. No Umpire shall, either directly or indirectly, be interested in any bet upon the result of the match. No person shall be allowed to speak to an Umpire, or in any way distract his attention, when the ball is near or nearing his goal. Sec. 4. They shall stand behind the flags when the ball is near or near- ing their goal. In the event of game being claimed, the Umpire at that goal shall at once decide whether or not the ball has fairly passed through the flags, his decision simply being " game " or " no game," without com- ment of any kind. He shall not be allowed to express an opinion, and his decision shall in all cases be final, without appeal. Sec. 5. In the event of the Field Captains failing to agi*ee upon the Umpires, after three nominations in accordance with this rule have been made by each party, it shall be the duty of the Referee to appoint one or more Umpires, as may be required, who shall not be one of the persons objected to, who must be duly qualified as required by this rule. In championship matches they shall be appointed the day previously. Sec. 6. If, after the commencement of a match, it becomes apparent that either Umpire, on account of partizanship, bets on the match, or any other cause, is guilty of giving unjust decisions, the side offended against may enter a protest with the Referee against his conduct, and ask for his immediate removal. After hearing the evidence on both sides, the Referee shall decide whether he shall be disftiissed or continue in office. If dis- missed, the Referee shall at once appoint another Umpire to act in his stead. Any decision, however, which he may have given previous to his dismissal shall hold good. Rule VI. — Referee. Section 1. The Referee shall be selected by the Captains ; and in the case of " Championship " matches, must be appointed at least one day be- fore the match. When the Captains have agreed upon a Referee, they shall make a written memorandum in duplicate of the agreement, which shall be LAWS OF LACROSSE. 183 signed by botli captains. His authority shall commence from the time of his appointment. No person .shall be chosen to fill the position who is not thoroughly acquainted with the game, and in every way competent to act. He must be a disinterested party, and neither directly nor indirectly in- terested in any bet upon the result of the match. In the event of the Field Captains failing to agree upon a Referee the day previous to a match, it shall be the duty of the President of the National Amateur Lacrosse As- sociation, or in his absence from the country, or owing to the impossibility of his being communicated with, the Vice-President, upon being duly noti- fied, to appoint a Referee to act during the match ; such Referee, however, not to be one of the number proposed by either of the competing clubs. Sec. 2. Before the match begias, the Referee shall see that properly ([ualitied Umpires are selected, as provided for in Rule V. He shall also obtain from each of the Captains a declaration and list of their team, and shall satisfy himself that the players are bona fide members of the team they represent, in accordance with Sec. 1, Rule IX. All disputed points and matters of appeal that may arise during his continuance in office shall be left to his decision, which, in all cases, must be final, without appeal. Sec. 3. Before the match begins, he shall draw the players up in lines, and see that the regulation respecting the ball, crosses, spiked soles, etc., are complied with. He shall also see that the regulations respecting the goals are adhered to. He shall know before the commencement of a match the number of games to be played, time for stopping, and any other arrangements that may have been made by the Captains. He shall have the power to suspend at any time during the match any player infringing these laws — the game to go on during such suspension. Sec. 4. When " foul " has been called by either Captain, the Referee shall immediately cry " time," after which the ball must not be touched by either party, nor must the players move from the position in which they happen to be at the moment, until the Referee has called " play." If a player should be in possession of the ball when " time " is called, he must -♦•♦-♦- \UY one of the old-fashioned to begin upon ; these may be got at a reasonable price, as many have been discai'ded fbv the modern ones. They are called " practicers," or, more familiarly, " bone-shakers." In learning to ride, it is ad- visable to have a competent teacher, who cannot only show what is wanted, but can also put the beginner in the way of doing it himself ; but as many may be unable, from dis- tance or other causes, to avail themselves of this kind of assistance, the following instructions are intended for those who are thus thrown upon their own resources. Of course it is necessary to have recourse to a friendly arm, and there may be many cases in which tivo friends are desirous to learn the bicycle, and can give mutual help. 192 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. The old-fashioned bicycle is of this construction, that is, of moderate height and the most solid build, and altogether very different from its latest development, with its enormous driving-wheel and general lightnesfi of make. These machines, with comparatively little difference in the height of the wheel, are best for beginners, as, being loiv, the getting on and off is easier and safer, and they are in every way adapted for the pur- pose ; and it is only when tolerable command of this kind is acquired, that the modern large-wheeled bicycle may be adventured with fair prospect of success. But even with these some discrimination is necessary. In choosing a machine on which to begin practising, we strongly advise the learner to select one of the size suitable to his height, as, if it is too small, his knees will knock against the handles, and if too large, his legs will not be long enough fairly to reach the throw of the crank. We know it is not un- common to begin with a boy's machine, and on an inclined plan ; but the benefit of these is very doubtful, unless you are totally without help, and have no one to lend you a helping hand. The best guide in measuring oneself for a bicycle to learn on is, we con- sider, to stand by its side and see that the saddle is in a line with the hips. The point of the saddle should be about six inches from the upright whicli supports the handles ; for if the saddle is placed too far back, you decrease your power over the driving-wheel, especially in ascending a hill. When you have secured a good velocipede, well suited to your size, you will find it useful to practise wheeling it slowly along while holding the handles. While thus leading it about, of course you will soon perceive the fact that the first desideratum is to keep the machine perfectly upright, which is done by turning the handles to the right or left when there is any inclination to deviate from the perpendicular. If inclining to the right, turn the wheel in the same direction, and vice versa, as it is only the rapidly advancing motion that keeps it upiight, on the principle of the boy's hoop, which, the faster it rolls, the better it keeps its perpendicular, and which, when losing its momentum, begins to oscillate, and finally must fall on one side or the other. Now for the — FIRST LESSON. Having become accustomed to the motion of the machine, and well stu- died its mode of travelling, the next thing is to get the assistant to hold it steady while you get astride, and then let him slowly wheel it along. Do not attempt at first to put your feet on the treadles, but let them hang down, and simply sit quiet on the saddle, and take hold of the han- THE OVERSHOT. MR. J. HOOBIK, OF THE SHAMROCK LACROSSE CLOF. dl( an or len ina the anc an han tun C the you turn tion musi dicu over P. be k a pu fore stret pitd m straij on tJ and but this that Of than hims^ Some SECOND LESSON. 103 dies, while the assistant moves you slowly along, with one hand on your arni and the other on the end of the spring. It is hardly necessary to say that the best place to learn is a large room or gallery, with smooth-boarded floor or flag-stone pavement. Now, directly you are in motion you will feel quite helple'^s, and exper- ience a sensation of being run away with, and it will seem as if the machine were trying to throw you off"; but all you have to do is to keep the front wheel straight with the back wheel by means of the handles, and the assistant will keep you up and wheel you about for a quarter of an hour or so, taking rest at intervals. When you want to turn move the handle so as to turn the front wheel in the direction required, but avoid turning too quickly, or you will fall on the reverse way. Observe that in keeping your balance, all is done by the hands guiding the front wheel. Do not attempt to sway your body, and so preserve your balance, but sit upright, and if you feel yourself falling to the left, turn the wheel to the left ; that is to say, guide the machine in the direc- tion in which you are falling, and it will bring you up again ; but this must be done the same moment you feel any inclination from the perpen- dicular. Do not be violent and turn the wheel too much, or you will overdo it, and cause it to fall the other way. Practise guiding the machine in this way until you feel yourself able to be left to yourself for a short distance, and then let the assistant give you a push, and leaving his hold, let you run by yourself for a few yards be- fore you incline to fall. Should you feel that you are losing your balance, stretch out the foot on the side on which you incline, so that you may pitch upon it, and thus arrest your fall. '%\ ii fi SECOND LESSON. Having pretty well mastered the balancing and keeping the machine straight, you may now take a further step, and venture to place your feet on the treadles, and you will now find the novel movement of the legs up and down liable to di&tract your attention from the steering or balancing ; but after a few turns you will get familiarized with the motion, and find this difiiculty disappear ; and it will seem within the bounds of possibility that you may some time or other begin to travel without assistance. Of course, in this and the former lesson, some will take to it more quickly than others, and the duration of the lessons must depend on the learner himself, and the amount of mechanical aptitude he may be gifted with. Some we have known to take six times as much teaching as others. M 194 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. THIED LESSON. Now, having in the first lesson ridden with the feet hanging down, and in the second with them on the treadles, in the third lesson you should be able to go along for a short distance, working the treadles in the usual way. Of course, when we speak of the first and second lessons, we do not mean that after practising each of them once you will be able, of necessity, to ride at the third attempt ; although we have taught some who seemed to take to it all at once : but that these are the progressive steps in learn- ing to ride, and you must practise each of them until tolerably proficient. When you are sufficiently familiar with the working of the treadles while held by the assistant, it depends entirely on yourself, and the amount of confidence you may possess, to determine the time at which he may let go his hold of you, and you may begin to go alone ; but of course for some time it will be advisable for him to walk by your side, to catch you in case of falling. When you have arrived at this stage, you only re- quire practice to make a good rider, and the amount of practice taken i* generally a guide to the amount of skill gained. To Get on and Off. — Having now learned to ride the velocipede with- out assistance, we will now proceed to getting on and off in a respectable manner, in case you have not a step, which all modern machines are now provided with. The proper way is to vault on and ofij which is the eas- iest way of all, when you can do it, but it certainly requires a little courage and skill. At first, it may be, from want of confidence in yourself, you will jump at the machine and knock it over, both you and it coming down. But what is required to be done is, to stand on the left-hfind side of the bicycle, and throw your right leg over the saddle. Stand close to the ma- chine, holding the handles firmly ; then run a few steps with it to get a sufficient momentum, and then, leaning your body well over the handles^ and throwing as much of your weight as you can upon them, with a slight jump throw your right leg over the saddle. This may sound formidable, but it is in reality no more than most equestrians do every time they mount, as the height of the bicycle to be cleared is little more than that of the horse's back when the foot is in the stirrup, only the horse is supposed to stand qui'-i, and therefore you can jump with a kind of swing. You must be very careful that while running by the side you keep the machine perfectly upright, particularly at the moment of jumping. Per- THIRD LESSON. 195 haps at first you will vault on, forgetting to keep the machine quite per- pendicular, and as an inevitable consequence you will come to the ground again, either on your own side, or, what is worse, you may go right over it, and fall with it on the top of you on the other side. Of course it is much better to have an assistant with you at your first attempts at vaulting, and it is good practice to let him hold the machine steady while you vault on and oft" as many times as you can manage. You must not forget to put all the weight you can on the handles, and although at first this seems difficult, it is comparatively easy when the knack is acquired. You will not attempt any vaulting until you can manage the machine pretty well when you are on, up to which time the assistant should help you on and set you straight. To get on with the help of the treadle is a very neat and useful me- thod, but requires considerable more practice than vaulting. Stand with the left foot on the treadle, and take a slight spring or " beat" from the ground with the right foot, give the machine a good send forward, of course following it yourself, and with a rise bring the right foot over to the saddle. The secret of this movement is that you put as little weight as you can on the treadle, merely following the movement, which has a tendency to lift you, and keep the greater part of your weight on the handles. You may mount the bicycle in another way, and that is by running by its side, and watching the time when one of the treadles is at its lowest, then place your foot upon it, and as it comes up, the momentum thus gained will be sufficient to lift you quite over on to the saddle. In this movement also, as in most others, it is much better to have assistance at first. To vault off, you have merely to reverse all the movements just de- scribed. Another capital way of alighting from the machine while in motion is to throw the right leg over the handles. You hold the left handle firmly, and raise your right leg over and into the centre of the handles, previous- ly raising your right hand to allow the leg to pass under. Then lifting your left hand for the same purpose, you will be. able to bring your leg over into a side-sitting posture, and drop to the ground with the same movement. But at this time pay strict attention to the steering, and take care never to let go one hand until you have a firm hold with the other, or you and the whole affair may come to extreme grief. 196 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiTlPIA. This we consider one of the easiest methods of getting off, although it looks so difficult. To Ride Side-saddle. — Riding in a side-sitting position is very simple, but you must first learn the foregoing exercises. First vault on the usual way, and work up to a moderate speed, then throw the right leg over the handles as in the act of getting off, but still retain your seat, and continue working with the left leg only. Now from this position you may practise passing the right leg back again into its original position when sitting across the saddle in the usual way. To Rest the Legs. — A very useful position is that of .stretching out the legs in front when taking long journeys, as it rests the legs, and also, as sometimes you do not require to work the treadle descending an in- cline, the weight of the machine and yourself being sufficient to continue the desired momentum. In this position the break is generally used ; but when putting it on, mind you do not turn the handles with both hands at once, but turn with one first and then with the other ; as, if the spring should be strong, and you attempt to use both hands in turning it, as a matter of course when you let go to take fresh hold the handles will fly bcick, to your great an- noyance. To Ride without using the Hands. — This is a very pretty and effec- tive performance, but of course it is rather difficult, and requires much practice before attempting it, as the steering must be done with the feet alone, the arms being generally folded. To accomplish this feat, you must keep your feet firmly on the treadles in the. upward as well as the downward movement, taking care not to take them off at all, as you will thereby keep entire command of them, which is absolutely necessary, as in fact they are doing double work, both propelling and also steering the machine. You will, as you become ex- pert in this feat, acquire a kind of clinging hold of the treadles, which you will find very useful, indeed, in ascending a hill when you take to outdoor travelling. Fancy riding of this kind must only be attempted on good surfaces. Description will not assist you much here, but when you attempt it you will soon find out that when riding without using the hands, every stroke of the foot, either right or left, must be of the same force, as, if you press heavier on one treadle than on the other, the machine will have a ten- dency to go in that direction ; and thus you must be on the watch to counteract it by a little extra pressure on the other treadle, without giv- ing enough to turn the machine in the reverse direction. mm THIRD LESSON. 197 This is all a matter of nice judgment, but when you can do it a very good effect is produced, giving spectators the idea of your complete mas- tery of the bicycle. But remember that you must be always ready to seize the handles, and resume command if any interruption to your progress presents itself. To Ride without using Legs or Hands. — As you can now ride with- out using ae hands, let us now proceed to try a performance which, at first sight, will perhaps seem almost impossible, but which is really not much more difficult than going without hands. This is to get the veloci- pede up to full speed, and then lift your feet off the treadles and place them on each side of the rest, and when your legs are up in this way, you will find that you can let go the handles and fold your arms, and thus actually ride without using either legs or hands. In progressing thus, the simple fact is that you overcome gravity by motion, and the machine cannot fall until the momentum is lost. This should only be attempted by an expert rider, who can get up a speed of twelve to fourteen miles per hour, and on a very good surface and with a good run ; and, in fact, from this position you may lean back, and lie flat down, your body resting on and along the spring. At Rest. — We are now come to the last and best, or, we may say, the most useful feat of all, and this is to stop the bicycle and sit quite still upon it. The best way to commence practising this is to run into a position where you can hold by a railing or a wall, or perhaps the assistant will stand with his shoulder ready for you to take hold of. Now gradually slacken speed, and when coming nearly to a standstill, turn the front wheel until it makes an angle of 45 deg. with the back wheel, and try all you know to sit perfectly still and upright. Of course this is a question of balancing, and you will soon find the knack of it. When the machine inclines to the left, slightly press the left treadle ; and if it ev^inces a tendency to lean to the right, press the right treadle; and so on, until, sooner or later you achieve a correct equilibrium, when you may take out your pocket-book and read or even write letters, &c., without difficulty. Now, we do not think that there is anything further to be said as to learning to ride the bicycle, and we can only express a hope that if you follow the advice and instruction we have been able to j^ive, you will become an expert rider, and be able to begin practising on the " Modem Bicycle." wm • 198 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Choice of a Machine. — And first, as to the choice of a machine. In this case it is imperative to have the very best you can get, as it is utter folly to risk life and limb by using one of inferior make. In choosing a bicycle, of course the first thing to be considered is the height of wheel, which greatly depends on the length of limb of the rider ; as, of course, though two men may be of equal height one may have a longer leg than the other. A good guide is to sit on the machine and let the toe touch the lower treadle without quite straightening the leg, as of course, command must never be lost. For a rider of average height, say 5 feet 8 inches, a machine of 52 to 54 inches we should consider suitable. But, of course, any well-known and reliable maker will furnish you with a machine to suit you. Having selected your " Modern Bicycle," the first thing you want to accomplish is to be able to mount and dismount. Of course, the saddle being nearly as high as your shoulder, it is impossible to vault on as with the old "practicer." It is therefore necessary to provide a " step," which, in all the modern machines, is fitted on the backbone, or connecting-iron, just above the hinder fork on the left side, at a convenient height. It consists of a small round plate, jagged, to afford a firm grip for the toe when placed upon it. There are two ways of mounting. One is to start the machine and to run by the left side, and put the left toe upon the step while in motion, throwing the right leg over on to the seat ; the other is to stand at the back of the machine, standing on the right leg, with the left toe on the step, and, gently starting, hop with the right leg until you have gained a sufficient impetus to raise youi'self on the step, and throw your right leg across the seat. The first is the best plan as you can run with greater speed, and mount ; in fact, the quicker you go the easier to get on. In many cases it is the only practicable plan, as, for instance, on remounting on a slight ascent, where it would be most difficult to get up sufficient speed by the hopping plan, which, moreover, does not present a very graceful appearance. Now, in the second way of getting on by the step, you hold the handle with the left hand to guide the machine, placing the other on the seat. You can now run it along easily. Your object in having one hand on the seat is, that if both hands are on the handles, you are over-reached, and it is difficult to keep your balance. Now take a few running steps, and when the right foot is on the ground give a hop with that foot, and at the same time place the left foot on the step, throwing your right leg over on to the seat. Now, the hop is the principal thing to be done, as if. THIRD LESSON. 199 when running beside the bicycle at a good speed, you were merely to place the left foot on the step without giving a good hop with the other, the right leg would be left behind, and you would be merely what is called " doing the splits." You will see at once that as the machine is travelling at good speed, you have no time to raise one foot after the other (as in walking up stairs), as when you lift up your foot, you are as it were, " in the air," and noth- ing but a good long running hop will give time to adjust your toe on the step as it is moving. This is, of course, difficult to describe, and we need not say, requires a certain amount of strength and agility, without which no one can expect to become an expert rider. But in the high racing machines, no one would think of trying to mount without the assistance of a friendly arm, and a stand or stool of suitable height. Having now mounted the high machine, you will find that the reach of the leg, and the position altogether, is very different from the seat on the " bone-shaker ; " but when you get some command, you will find the easy gliding motion much pleasanter, as well as faster. You are now seated much higher, in fact, almost on the top of the wheel : and, instead of using the ball of the foot, you must use your toe ; and when the treadle is at the bottom of the throw of the crank, your leg will be almost at its fullest extent, and nearly straight. Now you must pay a little attention to the process of alighting. In getting off by the step, all you have to do is to reach back your left foot until you feel the step, and, resting upon the handles, raise yourself up, and throw the right leg over the seat on to the ground. But we consider getting oft by the treadle much the preferable way when you can manage it ; but you must be very careful when first trying not to attempt it until the machine is perfectly at rest. Get some one to hold you up, the bicycle being stationary, and practise getting off in the following manner : First, see that the left hand crank is at the bottom, and with your left foot on that treadle practise swinging your right leg backwards and forwards, in order to get used to the movement. Now while in position, throw your right leg with a swing backwards, resting as much as you can of your weight upon the handles, and raise yourself with your right foot into position, continuing your swinging movement until you are off the seat and on the ground. When you are well able to get off in this way, with the bicycle at rest, you may attempt it when slackening speed to stop. As it is, of courae, easier to get off the slower you are going, you must come almost to a 1 If^W 200 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. standstill, just keeping way enough to prevent the'machine falliug over, as, if you attempt it when going at all quickly, you will have to run by its side after you are off, which is a difficult feat for any but a skilful rider. The great advantage of gett'ng off in this way is that, with practice, you can choose your own time, which is very useful when an obstacle suddenly presents itself, as in turning a corner ; and in getting off the other way you are liable to lose time in feeling for the step. There are different styles of riding, and of course at first you are glad to be able to get along in any way you can ; but when you come to have any command over your machine, and have time to think about style, you cannot do better than take for your model some graceful rider whose upright and graceful seat gives an impression of quiet power. Very different is the appearance presented by some well-known riders, who although going at really good speed, present a painful appearance, hang- ing forwards over the handles as if about to topple over, and favouring the beholders with such a variety of facial contortions. Hints on Training. — It is very difficult to give any rules that will apply to all, as constitutions differ so widely; but the simple rules of regular diet, rest, and exercise will apply to every one, whether they are going, as the saying is, " to race for a man's life," or merely trying to get themselves into the best frame of body to endure moderate exertion. The daily use of the cold bath, or tepid if necessary, cannot be too strongly insisted upon ; and also early rising and going to rest ; and the avoidance of all rich viands, such as pork, veal, duck, salmon, pastry, etc., etc. Beef, mutton, fowls, soles, and fish of similar kind, should form the principal diet. The severity of the rules of professional training has been much relaxed of late years, and many things, such as vegetables, stimulants in great moderation, etc., are now allowed, which before were rigidly excluded. In training for any special effort, of course it is necessary to have pro- fessional assistance ; but with moderate attention to diet and regimen, any one may soon get himself in to good condition, and particularly if he becomes an habitual bicycle-rider. ■p^^^^l^ mmmm toimiuing. 'WIMMING is the art of keeping the body afloat and propel- ling it by means of the body and hands. The swimming of man is artificial, but as the specific gravity of the human body is very little greater than that of water, it can be floated with very little difficulty. Every boy should be taught to swim, and if he reads the following pages and abides by the instructions, he can easily teach himself. The first care of the intending swimmer is, of course, to find a proper ]iiece of water in which to learn his first lessons. The very best water that can be found is that of the sea, on account of its saltness- and bitterness, whereby two great advantages are obtained. The first advantage is, that, on account of the salt and other substances^ which are dissolved in it, the sea- water is so much heaviier than fresh that it gives more support to the body, and enables the beginner to float much sooner than he can expect to do in fresh water. The other advantage is, that the taste of the sea-water is so nauseous that the learner takes very good care to keep his lips tightly shut, and so does not commit the common error of opening the mouth, which is fatal to all swimming, and is sure to dishearken a beginner by letting water get down his throat and half-choke him. As to place, there is nothing better than a sloping sandy shore, where the tide is not very strong. In some places the tide runs with such a force, that if the beginner is taken off" his legs he will be carried away, or, at least, that he will have great difficulty in regaining his feet. We strongly recommend him to walk over the spot at low water, and see whether there ^ any stones, sticks, rocks, or holes and if so, to remove all the movable impediments and mark the position of the others. Take a special care of the holes, for there is nothing so treacherous. A liole of some six or seven inches in depth and a yard in diameter, looks so insignificant when the water is out that few persons would take any notice of it ; but, when a novice is in the water, these few inches may just make the difierence between safety and death. 202 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. On sandy shores the most fertile source of holes is to be found in large stones. They sink rather deeply into the sand and form miniature rocks, round which the water courses as the tides ebb and flow, thus cutting a channel completely round the stone. Even when the stone is removed, the hole will remain unfilled throughout several tides. The next best place for learning to swim, is a river with a fine sandy bed, clear water, and no weeds. When such a spot has been found, the next care is to examine the bed of the river, and to remove very carefully everything that might hurt the feet. If bushes should grow on the banks, look out carefully for broken scraps of boughs, which fall into the stream, become saturated with water, sink to the bottom, and become fixed to one of the points upwards. If human habitations should be near, beware of broken glass and crock- ery ; fragments of which are generally flung into the river, and will inflict most dangerous wounds if trodden on. If the bed of the stream should be in the least muddy, look out for mussels, which lie imbedded almost to their sharp edges, that project upwards and cut the feet nearly as badly as broken glass. Failing sea and river, a pond or canal is the only resource, and furnishes the very worst kind of water. The bed of most ponds is studded with all kinds of cutting and piercing objects, which are thrown in by careless boys, and remain where they fell. Then, the bottom is almost invariably muddy, and the water is seldom clean. Still, bad as is a pond, it is better than nothing, and the intending swimmer may console himself with the reflec- tion that he is doing his duty, and with the prospect of swimming in the sea some time or other. Of course the large public baths possess some of the drawbacks of ponds; but they have, at all events, the advantage of a regulated depth, a firm bank, and no mud. As the very essence of swimming lies in confidence, it is always better for the learner to feel secure that he can leave the water whenever he likes. Therefore, let him take a light rope of tolerable length, tie one end to some firm object on the bank, and let the rest of the rope lie in the water. " Manilla " is the best kind of rope for this pi||||)ose, because it is so light that it floats on the surface instead of sinking, as is the case with an •ordinary hempen rope. If there is only sand on the shore, the rope can be moored quite firmly by tying it to the middle of a stout stick, burying the stick a foot or so in the sand, and filling up the trench. You may pull till you break the rope, ^^mffn^y^"^ FLOATING ON THE BACK. 208 but you will never pull the stick out of its place. If you are very nervous, tie two sticks in the shape of a cross and bury them in like manner. The rope need not be a large one, as it will not have to sustain the whole weight of your body, and it will be found that a cord as thick as an ordi- nary washing-line will answer every purpose. On the side of a stream or pond, tie the rope to a tree or hammer a stake in the ground. A stake eighteen inches in length, and as thick as an ordi- nary broomstick is quite large enough. Hammer it rather more than two- thirds into the ground, and let it lean boldly away from the water's edge. The best way of fixing the rope to it is by the "clove hitch." Now, having your rope in your hand, go quietly into the water back- wards, keeping your face towards the bank. As soon as you are fairly in the water, duck completely beneath the surface. Be sure that you really do go fairly under the water, for there is nothing more deceptive than the feel of the water to a novice. He dips his head, as he fancies, at least a foot beneath the surface ; he feels the water in his nose, he hears it in his ears, and thinks he is almost at the bottom, when, in reality, the back of his head is quite dry. The best way of "ducking" easily is to put the left hand on the back of the head, hold to the rope with the right hand, and then duck until the left hand is well under water. The learner should next accustom himself to the new element by mov- ing about as much as possible, walking as far as the rope will allow him, and jumping up and down so as to leani by experience the buoyancy of the water. Perhaps the first day may be occupied by this preliminary process, and on the second visit the real business may begin. In swimming, as in most other pursuits, a good beginning is invaluable. Let the learner bestow a little care on the preliminaries, and he will have no bad habits to unteach himself afterwards. It is quite as easy to learn a good style at first as a bad style, although the novice may just at the beginning fancy that he could do better by following his own devices. The first great object is to feel a perfect confidence in the sustaining power of the water, and, according to our ideas, the best method of doing so is by learning to float on the back. n FLOATING ON THE BACK. Take care that the cord is within easy reach, so that it may be grasped in a moment, should the novice become nervous, as he is rather apt to do 20^ THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP. T.DI A. just at first. Take it in both hands, and lay yourself very gently in the water, arching the spine backwards as much as possible, and keeping the legs and knees perfectly straight and stiff Now press the head as far back as possibly can be done, and try to force the back of the head between the shoulder-blades. You can practise this attitude at home, by lying on two chairs. When you have thus lain in the water you will find that you are almost entirely uj^held by its sustaining power, and that only a very little weight is sustained by the rope. On reflection you will alijo discern that tht- only weight which pulls on the rope is that of your hands and arms, which are out of the water, and which, therefore, act as dead weight. Indeed, you might just as well lay several iron weights of a pound each upon your body, for the hands and arms are much heavier than we gene- rally fancy. Just break an arm or a leg, and you will find out what heavy articles they are. Now let your arms sink gradually into the water, and you will see that exactly in proportion as they sink, so much weight is taken off the rope ; and if you have only courage to put them entirely under water, and to loose the rope, your body will be supported by the water alone. SWIMMING ON THE BACK, HEAD FIKST. There are many modes of swimming on the back, head first ; some in which the hands are the moving power, others in which the force is derived from the legs, and some in which the legs and arms are both exerted. To practise one of these methods — viz., that commonly called floating — you should throw your head gently back, as before, bringing your feet to the surface ; let your arms lie in the water close to your sides, using the hands in the same manner as when sculling, with a swift pushing motion of the palms towards the feet, returning edgeways, thumbs first, by bend- ing the arms ; and pushing again towards the feet by straightening the arms close to the sides. This produces a very rapid progress through the water, and may be continued for some time. Another method is as follows : — Throw yourself round on your back without stopping (which may be done with a swing of the body, while swimming in the first described method), and you will retain part of the impetus already acquired. Then throw both hands out of the water, as far as you can reach, in the direction you wish to proceed, entering again edgeways beyond your head, and describe a segment of a circle in the SWIMMING ON THE BACK, HEAD FIRST. 205 water, having the shoulders for a centre. The hands, on appearing again on the surface below the hips, should pass immediately through the air for another stroke. This mode is very serviceable when taken with cramp, or symptoms of cramp, as it removes the stress entirely off the muscles of the leg. It may be gracefully varied by using the right and left hands alternately. For the practice of a third method the hands and arms are to be used as in the last, but the progi-ess should be aided by the lower limbs strik- ing out with vigour, after having been drawn up to the body by the stroke made with the arms. The kick should be made as the hands pass through the air. This is a very quick manner of swimming, and is most commonly resorted to for relief when swimming in a match. For another method, lie on your back with your arms folded, or with your hands passed over your shoulders beneath your neck, or floating quietly by your side, drawing up your legs towards the- chest as high as possible, and then striking them backwards with vigour, which will cause you to make considerable j)rogress through the water without using the arms at all. When you draw up your feet the movement is against the surface, where there is little resistance, but, when you strike them out, the force is applied in a downward direction, where the resistance is greatest. The foregoing method is useful when your arms are tired, or you have something to carry or tow after you, the hands being perfectly free. Steering the course is easily managed by means of the legs. If the left leg is allowed to remain still, and the right leg is used, the body is driven to the left, and vice versa when the left leg .is used and the right is kept quiet. The young swimmer must remember that when he brings his legs together they must be kept quite straight and the knees stitt". The toes should also be pointed, so as to ofi\ir no resistance to the water. Swimming on the back is a most useful branch of the art, as it requires comparatively little exertion and serves to rest the arms when they are tired with the ordinary mode of swimming. All swimmers who have to traverse a considerable distance always turn occasionally on the back. They even in this position allow the arms to lie by the side until they are completely rested, while at the same time the body is gently sent through the water by the legs. Let swimming on the back be perfectly learned, and practised continu- ally, so that the young swimmer may always feel secure of himself when be is in that position. 1^ La y a w jj '"? »i«M ' .jaij.JM»v'i!g'. i!f ; g?:7 206 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. The feet should be kept about twelve or fourteen inches below the sur- face of the water, as, if they are kept too high, the stroke is apt to drivo the upper part of the head and eyes under the water. It must always be remarked that it is impossible to arch the spine too much, or to press the head too far between the shoulders. SWIMMING ON THE CHEST. We now come to swimming on the chest, which is the mode adopted by most persons, and which, together with swimming on the back, will enable the learner to perform almost any aquatic feat. In order to begin with confidence, walk into the water until it is almost as high as the chest, and then turn towards the land, so that every move- ment may cairy you from the deeper to the shallower water. Next place your hands in front of the chest, the fingers stiff and pressed together, and the thumb held tightly against the forefingei-. Do not press the palms together, as too many books enjoin, but hold the hands with the thumbs together, the palms downwards and the backs upwards. Now lean gently forward in the water, pushing your hands out before you until the arms are quite straight, and just before your feet leave the bottom give a little push forwards. You will now propel yourself a foot or two towards the land. Try how long you can float, and then gently drop the feet to the ground. Be careful to keep the head well back and the spine arched. Repeat this seven or eight times, until you have gained confidence that the water will support you for a few seconds. The accompanying illustration shows the proper attitude. Now go back to the spot whence you started, and try to make a stroke. Lay yourself on the water as before, but when the feet leave the bottom draw them up close to the body, and then kick them out quickly. When they have reached their full extent, press them together firmly, keeping them quite straight and the toes pointed. This movement will drive you onwards for a short distance, and when you feel that you are likely to sink, drop the feet as before. Start again and make another stroke, and so on tmtil the water is too shallow. At first you will hardly gain more than an inch or two at each stroke ; but after a little practice you will gain more and more until you can advance three or four feet without putting the legs to the ground. It is a good plan to start always from the same spot, and to try in how few strokes you can reach the land. There is a great interest in having some THE S1DE-3TR0KE. 207 definite object in view, and one gets quite excited in trying to reduce the number of strokes. The action of the legs may be seen in the illustration. The next point is the movement of the arms. In reality the arms are more valuable in swimming than the logs, and for this simple reason, any one who has the use of his limbs at all is obliged to use his legs daily, and that to a considerable extent. However sedentary he may be, he must walk up and down stairs twice at least in the day. He must walk from one room to another. He must get into and out of his carriage, and walk a few paces to his office. And in all these little walks his legs have to carry the weight of his body, which, to set it at the least figure, weighs from seventy to ninety pounds. THE SIDE-STROKE. There is no stroke that enables the swimmer to last so long as this does, and for this reason : instead of employing both arms and legs simul- taneously in the same manner, the side-stroke employs them simultane- ously, but in different manners ; so that when the swimmer is tired of exercising one side he can just turn over and proceed with the other, the change of action resting the limbs almost as much as actual repose would do. The side-stroke is thus managed : the swimmer lies on his right side, stretching his right arm out as far as he can reach, keeping the fingers of the right hand quite straight and the hand itself held edgewise, so as to cut the water like a shark's fin. The left hand is placed across the chest, with the back against the right breast, and the swimmer is then ready to begin. He commences by making the usual stroke with his legs, and the right leg, being undermost, doing the gi-eatest share of the work. Before the impetus gained by the stroke is quite expended, the right arm is brought round with a broad sweep, until the palm of the hand almost touches the right thigh. At the same moment, the left hand makes a similar sweep, but is carried backwards as far as it can go. The reader will see that the hands act directly upon the water like the blades of a pair of oars, and do not waste any of their power by oblique action. In ordinary swimming we seldom use the left arm, but allow it to hang quietly in the water, so that it may be perfectly ready for work when 208 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. wanted. Then, after some little time, we turn round, swim on the other side, and give the left arm its fair share of labour. There is a modification of swimming on the side, which is sometimes called Thrusting, and sometimes the Indian Stroke, because the North American Indians generally employ it. IrotDuing. I. — Preliminary Rules. 'N cases of apparent death, either from drowning or other suf- focation, send immediately for medical assistance, blankets, and dry clothing, but proceed to treat the patient instantly on the spot, in the open air, with the face downward, whe- ther on shore or afloat ; exposing the face, neck, and chest to the wind, except in severe weather, and removing all tight clothing from the neck and chest, especially the braces. The points to be aimed at are ; first and immediately the restoration of breathing ; and secondly, after breathing is re- stored, the promotion of warmth and circulation. The eflbrts to restore breathing must be commenced immediately and enero-elically and persevered in for one or two hours, or until that a medi- cal man has pronounced life extinct. Efforts to promote warmth and circulation, beyond removing the wet clothes and drying the skin, must not be made until the first appearance of natural breathing. For if circulation of the blood be induced before breathing has recommenced, the restoration to life will be endangered. II. — Treatment to Restore Breathing, According to Dr. Marshall » Hall's Method. \,—To Clear the Throat. Place the patient on the floor or ground with the face downwards, and one of the arms under the forehead, in which position all fluids will more ■•S«'2 DROWNING, 209 readily escape by the mouth, and the tongue itself will fall forward, leav- ing the entrance into the windpipe free. jVssist this operation by wiping and cleansing the mouth. If satisfactory breathing commences, use the treatment described below to promote warmth. If there be only slight breathing, or no breathing, or if the breathing fail, then — 2. — To excite breathing. Turn the patient well and instantly on the side, supporting the head, and excite the nostrils with snuff, hartshorn, and smelling salts ; or tickle the throat with a feather, fcc, if they are at hand. Rub the chest and face warm, and dash cold water or cold and hot water alternately, on them. If there be no success, lose not a moment, but instantly — 3. — To imitate breathing. Replace the patient on the face, raising and supporting the chest well on a folded coat or other article of dress. Turn the body very gently on the side and a little beyond and then briskly on the face, back again ; repeating these measures cautiously, effi- ciently, and perseveringly about fifteen tiines in the minute, or once every four or five seconds, o* sionally varying the aide. By placing the patient on the chest, the weight of the body forces the air out ; when turned on the side, this pressure is removed, and air enters the chest. On each occasion that the body is replaced on the face make uniform but efficient pressure with brisk movement, on the back between and be- low the shoulder blades or bones on each side, removing the pressure im- mediately before turning the body on the side. During the whole of the operations let one person attend solely to the movements of the heaJ, and of the arm placed under it. The result is respiration or natural breathing; and, if not too late, life. Whilst the above operations are being proceeded with, dry the hands and feet ; and as soon as dry clothing or blankets can be procured, strip the body, and cover or gradually reclothe it, but taking care not to inter- fere with the efforts to restore breathing. III.— Tbeatment to Restore Breathing, According to Dr. Silves- ter's Method. Instead of these proceedings, or should these efforts not prove success- N ^k m m '"''lvH ■M MHi w^'''^^^ 9ipl 210 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.EDIA. ful in the course of from two to five minutes, proceed to imitate breath- ing by Dr. Silvester's method, as follows : — 1. — Patient's position. Place the patient on the back of a flat surface, inclined a little upwards, from the feet ; raise and support the head and shoulders on a small firm cushion, or folded article of dress placed under the shoulder blades. 2. — To effect cC free entrance of air into the windpipe. Cleanse the mouth and nostrils, draw forward the patient's tongne, and keep it projecting beyond the lips ; an elastic band over the tongue and under the chin will answer this purpose, or a piece of string or tape may be tied round them by raising the lower jaw, the teeth may be made to retain the tongue in that position. Remove all tight clothing from about the neck and chest, especially the braces. 3. — To imitate the movements of breathing. Standing at the patient's head, grasp the arms just above the elbows, and draw the arms gently and steadily upwards above the head, and keep them stretched upwards for two seconds. (By this means air is drawn into the lunffs.) Then turn down the patient's arms and press them gently and firmly for two seconds against the sides of the chest. (By this means air is pressed out of the lungs. Pressure on the breast-bone will aid this.) Repeat these measures alternately, deliberately, and perseveringly, about fifteen times in a minute, until a spontaneous effort to respire is perceived ; immediately upon which cease to imitate the movements of breathing and proceed to induce circulation and ivarmth. Should a warm bath be procurable, the body may be placed in it up to the neck, continuing to imitate the movements of breathing. Raise the body in twenty seconds in a sitting position, and dash cold water against the chest and face, and pass ammonia under the nose. The patient should not be kept in the warm bath longer than five or six minutes. 4. — To excite inspiration. During the employment of the above method excite the nostrils with snuff" or smelling salts, or tickle the throat with a feather. Rub the chest and face briskly, and dash cold and hot water alteinately on them. m iiiipiii m^^rnm DROWNING. 211 The above directions are chiefly Dr, H. R. Silvester's method of restor- ing the apparently dead or drowned, and have been approved by the Royal Medical and Chirurgical Society. IV. — Treatment after Natural Breathing has been Restored. 1. — To promote ivarmth and circulation. Wrap the patient in dry blankets, commence rubbing the limbs upwards, with firm grasping pressure and energy, using handkerchiefs, flannels, &c. (By this means the blood is propelled along the veins towards the heart.) The friction must be continued under the blanket or over the dry clothing. 1. Promote the warmth of the body by the application of hot flannels, bottles, or bladders of hot water, heated bricks, kc, to the pit of the sto- mach, the arm-pits, between the thighs, and to the soles of the feet Warm clothing may generally be obtained from bystanders. 2. If the patient has been carried to a house after respiration has been restored, be careful to let the air play freely about the room. 3. On the restoration of life, when the power of swallowing has re- turned, a tablespoonful of warm water, small quantities of wine, warm brandy and water, or coffee, should be administered. The patient should be kept in bed, and a disposition to sleep encouraged. During reaction, large mustard plasters to the chest below the shoulders will greatly re- lieve the distressed breathing. v.— General Ob.-krvations. The above treatment should be continued for some hours, as it is an er- roneous opinion that persons are irrecoverable because life does not soon make its appearance, persons having been restored after persevering for many houre. VI.— Appearances which Generally Indicate Death from Drown- ing. Breathing and the heart's action cease entirely ; the eyelids are gene- rally half closed ; the pupils dilated ; the jaws clenched ; the fingers semi- contracted ; the tongue approaches to the under edges of the lips, and these, as well as the nostrils, are covered with a frothy mucus. Coldness and pallor of surface increase. ,t)-^ i.H>iJH(.4*J|Jpi ipw- ' I.I ^1 1- mm r f ^ 212 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. VIT. — Cautions. 1. Prevent unnecessary crowding of persons round the body ; especially if in an apartment. 2. Avoid rough usage, and do not allow the body to remain on the back unless the tongue is secured. 3. Under no circumstances hold the body up by the feet. 4. On no account place the body in a warm bath, unless under medical direction, and even then it should only be employed as a momentary ex- citant. €onunbrum0. 1. Where was Humboldt going when he WM thirty-nine years old ? 2. Which is the most ancient of the trees ? 3. Which are the most seasonable clothes 1 4. Why are lawyers and doctors safe peo- ple by whom to take example ? 5. What injury did the Lavinia of Thom- son's " Seasons " do to young Pale- mon ? 6. Why are wooden ships (as compared with ironclads) of the female sex ? 7. At what time of Ufe may a man be said to belong to the vegetable kin'>- dom ? 8. Which are the lightest men — Scotch- men, Irishmen, or Englishmen ? 9. Which are the two hottest letters of the alphabet ? 10. Why is cutting off an elephant's head widely different from cutting off any other head % 11. Who is the man who carries every- * Uiing before him ? 12. Which are the two kings that reign in America ? 13. When may a man's pocket be empty and yet have something in it ? 14. Why is a dock the most modest piece of furniture ? 15. Why is U the gayest letter in the al- phabet ? 16. Why are corn and potatoes like Chi- nese idols ] 17. Which is the merriest sauce ? 18. Why is a cat going up three pairs of stairs like a high hill ? 19. Why is a lead-pencil like a perverse child ? 20. Why is a horse like the letter O 2 21. Why are penmakers inciters to wrong- doing? 22. Why should we never sleep in a rail- way carriage 7 23. When is a boat like a heap of snow ? 24. What 'bus has found room for the greatest number of people '{ 25. Who is the first little boy mentioned bv a slang word in the History of England ] 26. Why is Macassar oil like a chief of the Fenians ? 27. Why is a nabob like a beggar ? 28. What sort of day would be good for running for a cup 7 29. What is the difference between a spendthrift and a feather bed ? 30. Is there any bird that can sing the " Lays of Ancient Rome 7 " 31. What have you to expect at a hotel \ 32. What comes after cheese ? •*^- -'**•'."''-. r. /*„»ii - '^ ■■•'r^ liitf^i ^fmmmm ^ mmm CONUNDRUMS. 213 ~ m ■ 33. 1 34. 3specially H 35. I the back H 36. 1 37. jr medical H 38. " 1 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. ■ 45. I 46. er in the al- H 47. )es like Chi- H 48. H 49. ce ? H ,ree pairs of H od: H 51. > a perverce ■ 52. tterO] 1 53. n to wrong- ■ H 54. ep in a rail- 1 ■ 55. ) of snow 1 I )m for the ■ 66. >le i I mentioned 1 57. ) History of 1 chief of the I 58. 1 59. gar? 1 60. )e good for ■ 1 61. between a 1 62. irbed? 1 in sing the 1 63 e?" 1 it a hotel I 1 64. When does a man sit down to a me- lancholy dessert ? What notes compose the most favour- ite tunes, and how many tunes do they compose ? When may a man be said to breakfast before he gets up ? Why is a hotel waiter like a race- horse ? When is the soup likely to run out of the saucepan ? What is that word of five letters, of which, when you take away two, only one remains ? When are volunteers not volunteers ? Why is the letter B like a fire ? Why is the letter R a profitable letter] What word may be pronounced quick- er by adding a syllable to it ? What is the difference between a dai- ry-maid and a swallow ? Which animal has the most property to carry with him when he travels, and which two have the least ? How many sticks go to the building of a crow's next ? Why was Robinson Crusoe not alone on his desert island 1 Why are there no eggs in St. Domin- go? What is invisible blue ? Which is the most wonderful animal in the farm-yard ? Which peer wears the largest hat ? When does the beer become eatable ? Why is a patent safety Hansom cab a dangerous carriage to drive in ? Why are bakers very self-denying peo- ple? Why is whispering in company like a forged bank-note ? Which constellation resembles an empty fire-place ? What is the last remedy for a smoky chimney ? What relation is that child to its fa- ther who is not its father's own son? * When does a cow become real estate ? Why are dissenters like spiders ? Why did Marcus Curtis leap into the gulf in Rome ? Wh^ is a soldier like a vine ? Which is heavier, a half or a full moon? When should you avoid the edge of the river ? Why must a fisherman be very weal- thy ? 65. If the fender and fire-irons cost three pounds, what will a ton of coals come to ? 66. Why are the fourteenth and fifteenth letters of the alphabet of more im- portance than the others ? 67. What is the way to make your coat last? 68. W^hy is an alligator the most deceitful of animals ? 69. Why is it impossible that there should be a best horse on a race-course ? 70. Why are fowls the most economical creatures that farmers keep ? 71. When may a ship be said to be in love ? 72. What relation is the door-mat to the scraper ? 73. What vegetable most resembles little Fanny's tongue ? 74. Why is gooseberry jam like counter* feit money ? 75. What is that which has never been felt, seen, nor heard — never existed and still has a name ? 76. Why is a congreve-box without matches, superior to all other boxes? 77. Why is a postman in danger of losing his way ? 78. What is that which comes with a coach, goes with a coach, is of no use to the coach, and yet the coach can't go without it ? 79. What three letters give the name of a famous Roman general ? 80. Why would it affront an owl. to mis- take him for a pheasant ? 81. If your uncle's sister is not your aunt, what relation does she bear to you ? 82. Of what profession is every child ? 83. Why is the letter i in Cicero like Arabia ? 84. Why is troyweight like an unconsci- entious person ? 85. Why is chloroform like Mendelssohn ? 86. When is a sailor not a sailor ? 87. Why does a duck put its head under water ? 88. What wild animals may be correctly shut up in the same enclosure ? 89. What makes a pair of boots ? 90. Can you tell me why A hypocrite sly Is the man who best knows Upon how many toes A pussy-cat goes ? 91. What tree is of tne greatest import- ance in history ? 92. Which is the most moral food — oak* I or wine ? ,;(S..,:l!| m jfij 214 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. r 93. Why is a good resolution like a faint- 124. ing lady at a ball ? 94. Why is a carpenter like a languid 125. dandy ? 95. When does a monkey weigh least ? 96. What is the last blow a defeated ship 126. gives in battle ? 97. What had better be done when there 127. is a great rent on the farm 1 98. Why is an uncomfortable seat like comfort ! 128. 99. What ^wo :. ., ..la do boys delight in, to the annc;^ance of their elders ? 129. 100. What single word would you put 130. down for £40 borrowed from you 1 101. When is a river like a young lady's 131. letter f 132. 102. Why is the Bank of England like a 133. thrush ? 103. Why wou?vi a peiican make a good 134. lawyer ? 104. Describe a suit ot o, t ciothrs in two letters. 135. 105. Whifli is th«3 proper ne»7'*pa'^er for invalids ? 136. 106. Wh»t Ameri(i.n pc c nay je (.onsl.^'- ered equal to tb ree-fif tJis of '1 ' 137. poets, ancient and modbrn. 107. What precious stone is like the on- j 138. trance to a field. i 103. When is a man like frozen rain ? i 139. 109. Which of the stars should be subject to the game-laws 1 140. 1 10. What garden crop would save drain- ing ? 141. 111. When does a cook break the game- laws ? 142. 112. Spell an interrogation with one letter. 113. When is a bill not a bill ? 143. 1 14. What pen ought never to be used for 144. writing ? 115. When is a subject beneath one's no- 145. tice ? 116. Why is a loyal gentleman like a miser? 146. 117. Why is the letter W like the Queen's 147. ladies 1 118. What tune makes everybody glad 1 \ 148. 119. Why are Dover cliflfs like the letter D ? 149. 120. When is a straight field not a straight field ? 150. 121. Why is a fish-hook like the letter F ? 122. What letter is that which is in- visible, 151. but never out of sight ? 123. How would you express in two letters 152. that you were twice the bulk of your 153. companions ? Why is attar of roses never moved without orders ? If the Greeks had pushed Pan into the Bay of Salamis, what would he have been when he came out ? When is a lady's arm not a lady's arm? What is that which occurs once in a minute, twice in a moment, and not once in a hundred years ? What is an old lady in the middle of a river like ? When is a fish above its station ? When do we witness cannibalism in England ? When is a boy not a boy ? When is a piece of wood like a queen ? When is a skein of thread like the root of an oak ? What is that which has a mouth but never speaks, and a bed but never sleeps in it ? What word contains all the vowels in their proper order ? Wnat letter used to be distributed at tournaments ? Why is a carriage going down a steep hill like St. George ? Why is I the happiest of all the vowels. Why should you never employ a tailor who does not understand his trade ? Why are your eyes like friends sepjir- ated by distant climes ? Why is a bad-tempered horse the best hunter 1 What sort of a face does an auction- eer like best 1 Why is the letter F like a cow's tail ? What is the difference between a hus- bandman and a sempstress i What is it of which we have two every year, two every week, and two every day ? How does a boy look if you hurt him ? What medicine ought to be given to misers 1 Why do British soldiers never run away I What weight or measure would no competitor wish to be ? What part of a railway carriage re- sembles Fanny when she is sleepy I Why is the letter R most important to young people ? Why id a healthy boy like England t When is a book like a prisoner in the States of Barbary 1 mmfmmm CONUNDRUMS. 215 154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159. 160. ICl. 162. 163. 164. 165. 166. 167. 168. 169. 170. 171. 172. 173. would a hungry eailor of a pitcher is the vo every 174. nd two 175. irt him ? given to 176. 177. 3ver run 178. 179. rould no 180. rriage re- 181. s sleepy 1 182. mportant 183. England t 184. What wind prefer ? On which aide handle ? When may a chair be said to dislike you? What is that which divides by uniting and unites by dividing ? Why are young children like castles in the air ? What is higher and handsomer when the head is off ? Why is a proud girl like a music- book? Why is a short negro like a white man? Why are bells the most obedient of inanimate things ? Why are boxes at a theatre the sad- dest places of public amusement. Why is the most discontented man the most easily satisfied ? Why are ripe potatoes in the ground like thieves ? Why is it unjust to blame cabmen for cheating us ? When is a thief like a reporter ? When is the French nation like a baby? What does a lamp-post become when the lamp is removed ? What things increase the more you contract them ? Why is a mother who spoils her chil- dren like a person building castles in the air ? When you listen to your little bro- ther's drum, why are you like a just judge ? . When is a tourist in Ireland like a donkey ? Who always sits with his hat on be- fore the Queen ? Why is a pig in the drawing-room like a houue on fire ? When is a river not a river ? What trade never turns to the left ? What trade is more than full ? Why is electricity like the police when they are wanted ? When is a borough like a ship ? Why are guns like trees ? What town is drawn more frequently than any other ? Who was the first postman ? Why is little Prince Albert Victor like the two things in which chil- dren most rejoice ? 185. What is the key-note to good breed- ing? 186. What is the difference between a sailor and a soldier ? 187 . Why is a rook like a farmer ? 188. Why is anger like a potato ? 189. Why does pedestrianism help arith- metic ? 190. What trees are those which are the same after being burned as they were before ! 191. What is the best thing to do in a hurry ! 192. Why are cobblers like Sir Wdliam Ferguson ? 193. Which is the ugliest hood ever woni ? 194. Whiit nation will always overcome in the end ? 195. When is butter like Irish children i 190. On what tree would an ode be writ- ten which would name an Irish M. P.? 197- What have you now before you which would give you a company, a veil- ed lady, and a noisy toy ? 198. What is the difference between Kos- suth and a half -starved oyster ? 190. If Neptune lost his dominions, what would he say ? 200. Why is a Dorcas Society like an as- sembly of dishonest people ? 201. It went before Queen Mary — poor thing ! It followed King William to the end — poor man ! 202. Why is the letter A like noon ? 203. Why is a five pound note more than five sovereigns ? 204. When was the greatest destruction of poultry ? 205. In what respects were the govern- ments of Algiers and Malta as dif- ferent as light from darkness i 206. Wlien is a young lady's cheek not a cheek ? 207. When is her nose not a nose ? 20.i When is a boy not a boy ? 209. When is a ship foolishly in love ? 210. When is a ship like Hurry's mamma ? 211. What part of London would a horse most like to live in ? 212. What do you put before nine to make it three less by the addition i 213. Why should you never attempt to catch the 12.50 train I 214. Who is the best pew-opener ? 216. Given A B 0, to find Q. 216. Which is the easier profession, a doc- tor's or a clergyman's I 216 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. 217. What word of four syllables repre- sents Sin riding on a little animal ? 218. If I were in the sun and you out of it, what would the sun become 1 219. Why is a tallow chandler the most unfortunate of all mankind 1 220. What is it that walks with its head downwards 7 221. Why are the hours from one to twelve like good Christians ? 222. Why is a hen walking across the road like a conspiracy 7 223. On which side of the church is the yew-tree planted 7 224. Why cannot Napoleon III. insure his life 7 225. How many wives does the Prayer- book allow 1 226. Why have ducks no hereafter 7 227. Why is a dog with a lame leg like a boy at arithmetic 7 228. Why is an engine-driver like a school master 7 229. What will a leaden bullet become in water 7 230. Why is a person of short stature like an almanack 7 231. Why is the smoke of tobacco like Port wine 7 232. Why is a photograph like a member of Parliament 7 233. Why is London Bridge like merit 7 234. That which every one requires, that which every one gives, that which every one asks, and that which very few take. ANSWEES TO CONUNDRUMS. 1. Into his fortieth year. 2. The elder tree. 3. Pepper and salt. 4. Because they practise their profes>- sions. 5. She pulled his ears and trod on his com. 0. Because they are the weaker ves- sels. 7. When long experience has made him sage. 8. Englishmen. In Scotland there are men of Ayr (air), in Ireland men of Cork ; but in England are lighter- men, 9. K. N. (Cayenne). 10. Because when you separate the head from the body, you don't take it from the trunk. 11. The footman. 12. Smo-king and soa-king. 13. When it has a hole in it. 14. Because it covers its face with its hands, and runs down its own works. 16. Because it is always in fun. 16. Because they have ears which can't hear, eyes which cannot see. 17. Caper sauce. 18. Because she's a-monntain ! Id. It never does right (write) of itself. 20. Because Gee (G) makes it go 7 21. Because they make people steel (steal) pens, and say they do write (right). 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 3L 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. Because the train always runs over sleepers. When it is a-drift. Columbus. Chap, I. Because it is a head (s) centre. He ia an India gent (indigent). A muggy day. One in hard up and the other soft down. Yes; they are Macaw-lays (Macaii- lays). Inn-attention. Mouse. When he sits down to wine (whine) and pine. Bank notes, and they make (four) for tunes. When he takes a roll in bed. Because he runs for cups, plates, and stakes (steaks). When there's a leek (leak) in it. Stone. When they are mustered (mustard). It makes oil, 6oil. Because it makqs ice into ric6f Quick. One skims milk and the other skims water. The elephant the most, because he carries a trunk. The fox and cock the least, as they have only a brush and comb between them. None ; they are all carried to it. «MP wmm BogmasBf'. ^SOHiHWHMWU ANSWERS TO CONUNDRUMS. 217 46. Because there was a heavy swell on the beach, and a little cove running up into the land. (This riddle is a slang one.) 47. Because they banished the whites and cast off their yoke (yolk). 48. A policeman when he is wanted. 49. A piif, because he is killed first and cured afterwards. 50. The one who has the largest head. 61. When it is a little tart. 62. Because the cabman always drives over your head. 53. Because they sell what they knead (need) themselves. 64. Because it is uttered but not allowed (aloud). 56. The Great Bear (i^rate bare). 66. Putting the fire out. 57. His daughter. 58. When she is turned into a field. 59. Because they are in-sects. 60. Because he thought it a good opening for a young man. 61. Because he is 'listed, trained, has teu drills (tendrils), and shoots. 62. The half, because the full moon is as light again. 63. When the hedges are shooting and the bull-rushes out. 64. Because his is all net profit. 65. Ashes. 66. Because we cannot get on (0 N) well without them. 67. To make your waistcoat first. 68. Because he shows an open counte- nance in the act of taking you in. 69. Because there's always a better. 70. Because for every grain they eat they give a peck. 71. When she wishes for a mate. 72. A step-father (further). 73. A scarlet runner. 74. Because it is not current (currant). 75. Nothing. 76. It is matchless. 77. Because he is guided by the directions of strangers. 78. A noise. 79. CPO(Scipio). 80. It would be making game of him. 81. She is your mother. 82. A player. 83. It is between two seas (C's). 84. It has no scruples. 86. Because it is one of the great compo- sers of modern times. 86. When he is a-loft. 87. For diver's reasons. 88. Sixteen ounces in one pound. 89. Two boots. 90. A hypocrite neat Can best count her feet (counterfeit); And so, I suppose, Can best count her toes. 91. The date. 92. Cake, because it is only sometimes tipsy, while wine is often drunk. 93. Because it ought to be carried out. 94. Because he often feels a great deal bored (board). 96. When he is within the pound. 96. Striking her own flag. 97. It had better be sown (sewn). 98. Because it is devoid of ease (E's) — (there are no E's in the word com- fort). 99. Two T's (to tease). 100. XL lent (excellent). 101. When it is crossed. 102. Because it often changes its notes. 103. He knows how to stretch hia bill. 104. CD (seedy). 106. The "Weekly (weakly) News." 106. Foe. 107. A-gate. 108. When he is hale (hail). 109. Shooting stars. 110. Leeks. 111. When she poaches eggs. 112. Y(why?). 113. When it is due (dew). 114. A sheep-pen. 116. When it is under consideration. 116. He knows the value of his sovereign. 117. It is always in waiting. 118. Fortune. 119. They are next the sea (C). 120. When it is a rye (awry) field. 121. Because it will make an eel /eel. J 22. I. 123. I W (I double you). 124. Because it is sent (scent) wherever it goes. 126. A dripping pan. 126. When it is a little bare (bear). 127. Letter M. 128. Like to be drowned. 129. When it rises and takes a fly. 130. When we see a rash man eating a rasher. 131 . When he is a regular brick. 132. When it is made into a ruler. 133. When it is full of knots. 134. A river. 136. Facetious. N mmm wfmmmm 218 13G. 137. 13S. 139. 140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148. 149. 150. 151. 162. 153. 154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159. IGO. 161. 162. 163. 164. 165. 166. 167. 168. 169. 170. 171. 172. 173. 174. 175. 176. 177. 178. 179. 180. 181. 182. THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Largress (1^). It is drawn wilh a drag on (dragon). Because it is in bliss while must of the others are in Purgatory. Because you would get bad habits from him. They correspond, but never meet. Because he soonest takes a fence (takes offence). One that is for-laidding. It is the end of beef. The one gathers what he sows ; the other sews what she gathers. Vowels. It makes him yell " Oh " (yellow). Anti-money (antimony). Because they belong to the standing army. The last. The wheel, because it is tired. Because without it we should have neither Christmas nor a New Year. He possesses a good constitution. When it is bound in Morocco. One that blows foul (fowl) and chops about. The outside. When it can't bear you. , Scissors. Because their existence is only in- fancy. A pillow. She is full of airs. He is not at all black (a tall black). Because they make a noise whenever they are tolled (told). Because they are always in tiers (in tears). Nothing satisfies him. They ought to be taken up. Because we call them to take us in. When he takes notes. When it is in arms, A lamp lighter. Debts. She indulges in-fancy too much. Because you hear boih sides. . When he is going to Bray. Her coachman. Because the sooner it is put out the better. When it is eye water (high water). A wheelwrigiit. Fuller. Because it is an invisible force. When it is under canvas i. People plant them and they shoot. Cork. 183. 134. 185. 186. 187. 188. 189. 190. 191. 192. 193. 194. 195. 19J. 197. 198. 199. 200. 201. 202. 203. 204. 205. 206. 207. 208. 209. 210. 211. 212. 213. 214. 215. 216. 217. 218. 219. 220. 221. 222, 223. Cadmus. He carries letters from Phiunicia to Greece. He is the sun and air (son and heir) of England. B natural. One tars his ropes, the other pitches his tent. He gets his grub by the plough. It shoots from the eye. It is a Walkinghame (walking game)* Ashes. Nothing. They are skilled in the art of heeling (healing). Falsehood. Deter mi- nation When it is made into little Pats. Ode on a yew (O'Donoghue). Co-nun-drum. One is a native of Hungary, the other a hungry nativ«. 1 have not a notion (I have not an ocean). It is very sew-sew (so-so) society. Letter M. It comes in the middle of the day. Because when you put it in your pocket you double it, and when you take it out you find it in creases. When King Claudius of Denmark did " murder most foul " (fowl). The one was governed by deys (days), the other by knights (nights). When it's a little pale (pail). When it's a little reddish (radish). When he is a spoon. When she is anchoring (hankering) after a swell. When she is attached to a buoy (boy). Gray's Inn (Grazing) Lane. S IX (S added). Because it would be 10 to 1 if you caught it. One bob (i.e., one shilling). Take CAB, and drive through H im- mersmith to find Kew (Q). A clergyman : he preaches, the doc- tor practises. Sin-ou-a-mouse (synonymous). Sin. Because all his works are wick-ed, and all his wick-ed works are brought to light. A nail in a shoe. Because they are always on the watch. It is a fowl (foul) proceeding. The outside. w^^^ifim^m FORTUNE-TELLING. 219 224. Because no man living is able to make out his policy. 225. Sixteen ; for (four) richer, for (four) poorer, for (four) better, for (four) worse. 220. Because they have their necks twirled in this. (Next world sounds like necks twirled). 227. He puts down three and carries one. 228. Because one trains the mind, and thd otlier minds the train. 229. Wet. 230. Because he is often overlooked or louked over. 231. Because it comes out of a pipe. 232. Because it is a representative. 233. It is often passed over. 234. Advice. Jjortunc-'^^rlling. 'HIS is a very interesting game, and may be played by any number of persons. A board is made and divided into eleven squares each way, as shown in the diagram given here, the figure one being in the centre. Each square must be numbered as in the diagram. The person who wishes , to try his fortune mu^t place his forefinger on a square without looking at it; then refer to the list for the num- ber marked on the square touched, and you will obtain an answer, which, like those given by professed fortune tel- lers, will often prove false or ridiculous ; as, for instance, when a married lady is told that she longs to be married (84), or a child of seven is in- formed that he will be married this year (89) ; but it is a very amusing game notwithstanding. ft 117 118 119 120 121 ' 82 83 84 85 86 87 116 78 79 80 81 50 51 52 53 54 88 115 77 47 48 24 49 26 27 28 29 55 89 11* 76 46 25 ^10 11 12 ^ 30 56 90 iia 7.5 45 23 9 2^ 3 ,j 13 31 57 91 112 • 74 44 22 8 \ 4 1 M 1 32 58 92 111 73 « 21 7 IM ,- 5 j 15 "^1 59 93 110 72 42 20 19 : 18 "-U f 16 34 60 94 109 71 69 '40 39 ! 38 37 .36 35 61 9& 108 70 68 67, ! 66 6.5 64 63 62 96 107 106 105 104 103 i 102 1 101 100 99 98 97 n 1 . mm' •'>' ''■ '"'mp^ .>A^r ■" '^i ^mm 220 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS OYCLOPiEDIA. ANSWERS TO FORTUNE-TELLING. 1. A life full of ohanges, die rich. 2. Early marriage and prosperous. 3. Many lovers, but die single. 4. A speedy journey of great importance. 6. Become rich through a legacy. Q, Hours of pleasure, years of care. 7. Your present lover is false. ^ You will marry your present choice. 9. Wed thrice, and die in widowhood. 10. You will' travel over land and sea. 11. If not already wed, you never will be. 12. Gaming will be your ruin. 13. You wUl be very happy in marriage. 14. You will change your love soon. 15. A long life and prosperous. 16. A rival will cause you tears. 17. Beware of a false friend. 18. Fate decrees you two partners. 19. A large family of prosperous children. 20. You will not wed your present lover. 21.|You will soon fall desperately in love. '?2.i||au will soon be in mourning. 23. vli^will gain an estate by industry. 24. You will better yourself by marriage. 25 You will aoon lose by fraud. f 6. You will marry an ill- tempered person '^S?. A sudden rise attends you. 28. You will see an absent lover. 20. Many enemies, but finally triumph. 30. A bad partner, but happy reformation. 31. A speedy proposal of marriage. 32. A present, and a new lover. 33. Invitation to a gay party. 34. A serious quarrel. 36. A disgraceful intrigue. 36. A run of ill luck. .37. Gifts of money. 38. A good partner in marriage, 3d. You will become rich. 40. Money through love. 41 . Oash by trade. 42. A long journey. 43. Important news soon. 44. Mind what you say to a lover^ 45. A present from a distance. 46. A dilute with one you love. 47. Yisit^rom a distant friend. 48. A lawsuit. 49. Advancement in life. 50. Love at first aight. 51. A prize worth having. 52. Wealth, dignity, honour. 53. Visit to a foreign land. 54. Profit by industry. 56. A multitude of cards. 56. Preferment through a friend. 57. Second partner better than first. 68. Surmount many difficulties. 59. A false friend. 60. A pleasing surprise. 61. A change in your affairs. 62. A ramble by moonlight. 63. Injured by scandal. 64. Unpleasant tidings. 65. Great loss and disappointment. 66. About to attend a christening. 67. Change of situation. 68. A handsome present soon. 60. An invitation to a marriage. 70. News from sea. 71. Happiness or marriage. 72. Pleasant intelligence from abroad. 73. An agreeable partner. 74. You axe in love, though you won't avow it. J 75. A ({uarrel with your inten mm i ( THE ORACULUM OR LOOK OF FATE. 223 OR.A.O"crXjTJns^. QUESTIONS. * ,»• * I »» • » «»■•*: » «* •»•'«• * *» * « ** **'^ ;?5 llShalllobtain my wifh? | Ai B| C! Dj K| F| GfHI I]K| L|M| N^| 0| PI QH" '^2!ShallJ have success in my u nde r takinijs ? | B| C|D| E'F| GiH| I iK| L^M| Nj OfPl lirAi2" CTU: JEI Fi_G|H|_I iJCjXjMTNToJTrQ^^ l3|E! F|G!H| i |_Ki LiMi N| 0| P| QfAl BrcT4 E|F|G:H|iTK rL|M|N| 01 "P| Q| A| BTCJDTo" FL«lU[IJK|LjM|_Nj^OrP| QfAl Bj C!|D| E|G *J^jJi|Mj N[6: Pi QfAl Bi C| D| EfFlY 3{ Shall I tjaiii or lose in my cause ' 4|Shall I ha v e to live in foreign parts ? 5 1 Will the stranger return from abroad ? 6|Shall i recover my property stolen? 7| Will my friend be true in his dealing's ? 8; Shall I have to travel ? ^G|H_ IHIIIK 9 1 Does the person love and reg ard my? 10: Will the marriage be prosperous ? 11| What sort of a wife or husband shall I have ?! L M 12[WJ11 she have a son, or a daughter ? jM] N| O 131 Will the patient recover from his illness ? 14] Will the prisoner be released ? 15|Shall i be lucky or unlucky this day ?^ lOlNVhat does my dream signify ? LjMjNi O P| Ql a;'B| CI D| El F|G:8", 1 1 tHi^-Mr-yroi -prQ^~Af-Atfci.A>i ki y\ G;Hii>- |K|L|M|NlOiP|Q|AiB|qD|E!FrGiHri|lQ N|6rP,Q|A| B| C]i){E|FiGrHnrKi3] PIQ I AjBICfDrEl FI GlHI I ,Ki LUii" iNlOl P! QUV__BlCLD| E| F| GiH , I J^iLJM |I3 _| qi PfQl A| HI C Dj EfFI GIHIJ IKiTTMINiH I PI Q_|AJ BT onirEfFrGTHlJlKT L|M| NfOriJ IQIAliBlO'DjEIFrGIHTl '[K\'\M\ Ni 0TP|1(J ii. What j'oii wish for, you will short- ly OBTAIN. Signifies trouble and sorrow. « Be very cautious what you do this day, lest trouble befall you. The prisoner dies, and is regret- ted by his friends. Life will be spared this time, to prepare for death. A very handsome daughter, but a PAINFUL one. You will hav« a virtuous woman or man, for your wife or husband . If you marry this person, you will have enemies where you little ex- pect. You had better decline this love, for it is neither constant nor true. Decline your travels, for they will not be to your advantage. There is a true and sincere friend- ship between you You will not recover the stolen property. # The stranger will, with joy, soon return. * * * * ♦* $ ** ^* J- % You will NOT remove from where you are at present. The Lord will support you iiTa good cause. You are not lucky— pray to God that he may help you. The luck that is ordained for you | will be coveted by others. i Whatever your desires are for the I present, decline them. Signities a favour of kindness from some person. There are enemies who would de- fraud and render you unhajipy. With great difficulty he will ob- tain pardon or release again. The patient should be prepared to LEAVE this world. She will have a son, who will bo learned and wise. A kich partner is ordained for you. By this marriage you will have great luck and prosperity. ** This love comes from an uprigbc and sincere Ueart. \n '??•:;■ .., 224 I* */ */ ♦* i « *_ n *♦_ 8 ♦♦♦ THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. God WILL surely travel with you, and bless you. Beware of friends who are false and deceitful. You WILL recover your property — unexpectedly. Love prevents his return home at present. Your stay is not here : be there- fore prepared for a change. You will have so gain ; therefore be wise and careful. With the blessing of God, you WILL have great gain. Very unlucky indeed — pray to God for his assistance. If your desires are not extrava- gant, they will be granted. iSignities peace and plenty between friends. Be well prepared for this day, or you may meet with trouble. The prisoner will find it difficult to obtain his pardon or release. The patient will yet enjoy healt>> and prosperity. She WILL have a daughter, and will require attention. The person has not a great fortune, but is in middling circumstances. Decline this marriage or else you may be sorry, Decline a coturtship which may be your destruction. Your travels are in vain had better stay at home. you You MAY DEFEND ou a true and sincere frie ndsh ip. You must NOT expect to regain that which you have lost. Sickness prevents the traveller from seeing you. it will be your fate to stay where now are. D. You WILL obtain a great fortune in another country. By venturing freely, you will certainly gain doubly. * t I God will chunj|,;e your misfortune into success and happiness. Alter your intentions, or else you MAY meet poverty and distress. Signifies you have many impedi- ments in accomplishing your pur- suita. Whatever may possess your incli- nations this day, abandon them. ♦** * ** * n ♦ * * i t The p isoner will get free a;>ain this time. The patient's illness will be lin- gering and doubtful. She will have a dutiful and hand- some son. The person will be low in circum- stances, but honest-hearted. A marriage which will add to your welfaie and prosperity. You love a person who does not speak well of you. Your travels will be prosperous, if guided by prudence. Ue means not what he says, for his heart is false. With some trouble and expense, you may regain your property. You must NOT expect to see the stranger again. B. The stranger will not return so soon as you expect. Remain among your friends, and you will do well. You will hereafter qain what you seek. You have no luck- and strive honestly. -pray to God, You will obtain your wishes by means of a friend. Signifies you have enemies who will endeavour to ruin you. Beware — an enemy is endeavour- ing to bring you to strife and mis- fortune. The prisoner's sorrow and anxiety are great, and his release uncertain. lea who Bavonr- id mis- wxiety Brtain. i ♦* it it A $1 IHE ORACULUM. OR BOOK OF FATE. 225 The patient will soon recover — there is no danger. She will have a daughter who will be honoured and respected. Your partner will be fond of li- quor and will debase himself there- by. This marriage will bring you to poverty, be therefore discreet. Their love is false to you, and true to others. Decline your travels for the pre- sent, for they will be dangerous. This person is serious and true, and deserves to be respected. You will not recover the property you hav e lost. P. By pe' jo'-ering you will recover your pr operty again. It u out of the stranger's power to re"arn. Yoa will gain, and be successful iu foreign parts. A great fortune is ordained for you ; wait patiently. There is a great hindrance to your success at present. Your wishes are in vain at present. i Signifies there is sorrow and dan- ger before you. This day is unlucky ; therefore alter your intention. The prisoner will be restored to liberty and freedom. The patient's recovery is doubtful. She will have a very fine boy. A worthy person, and a fine fur- tune. Your intentions would destroy your rest and peace. This love is true and constant ; forsake it not. % I* n i * This friend exceeds all others in every respect. You must bear your loss with for- titude. The stranger will return unez- pectedly. ^^^^^^ Remain at HOME with your friends, and you will escape misfortunes. You will meet no gain in your pursuits. Heaven will bestow its blessings on you. No. Signifies that you will shortly be out of the POWER of yonr enemies. Ill-luck awaits you — it will ^e difficult for you to escape it. The prisoner will be beleaseo by death only. * By the blessing of Qod the patient WILL recover. A daughter, but of a very sickly constitution. You will get an honest, young, and handsome partner. Decline this marriage, else it may be to your sorrow. Avoid this love. IE] ( Prepare for a short journey ; you will be recalled by unexpected events . H. Pbooebo on your journey, and yon will not have cause to repent it. If you trust this friend, you may have cause for sorrow. ** Commence your travels, and they will go on as you could wish. Your pretended friend hates you secretly. Your hopes to recover your pro- perty are vain. A cerUin a£fair prevents stranger's return immediately. the Your fortune you will find in abundance abroad. 'i* Decline the pursuit and you will do well. Your expectations are vain — you will not succeed. •^m^m^^immmm ^>9^m 226 I * ** $1 i * f I I h THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. You will obtain what you wish for. JSignitieB that on this day your for- tune will change for the better. Cheer up your spirits, your luck is at hand. After LOMO imprisonment he are to be echoed in like manner. Then the first speakoi- adds : " Verily, verily, I do say That I nuist go to-day, To visit my sick brother, 0-BA-DI-AY." ft After which he rises, goes into the middle of the room, and kneels down. The nearest gentleman follows, and kneels close to him ; the next close to the last, and so on, till they form a line. Then tho leader of the g 'ue must place himself la.st, kneeling also; and, by giving a sudden push to the last player, he will cause the whole row to fall down like a row of cards on the carpet. The ladies are strictly forbidden to laugh at the catastro- l)he, or to cease twirling their thumbs, under pain of paying a forfeit. & r .,,,,,..,„ J 'it ■ ' /V '' ' ' 2119 WM m -'/'■■ ■•IIIp- i^ma^^m Mm. ■ ^^ffci- s;':, H r'4 I'liii %\m !U-^;( fi; I'' )i ill iW. i V m tiVJ'Si *- i,i 'M As that him thoiij must quoti metii A.1 moti( Th as he fmmrn"^ ,j.,|ii II iiii i^ip^m^ '"^''"wniwn^iippHppillpppiP^PWiViviMiWP mil GAMES, FORFEITS, ETC. 235 To Tell Any Number Tho^j^ht Of. Ask a person to thiak of a number ; then tell him to subjtract 1 from that number ; now tell him to multiply the remainder by 2 ; then request him again to substract 1, and add to the remainder the number he first thought of, and to infonn you of the total. When he has done this, you must mentally add three to that total, and then divide it by 3, and the quotient will be the number first thought of. This is an excellent arith- metical pastime, examples of which is given below : 10 15 18 23 1 1 1 1 9 14 17 22 2 2 2 2 18 28 34 44 1 1 1 1 17 27 S3 43 10 15 18 23 27 42 61 ^ U6 3 3 3 3 3)30 3)45 3)54 3)69 10 15 18 23 Tlie Ugly Mug. A. leader is chos^^n, and the remainder of the company must follow every motion that he makes, while he sings the description. mm - :rpzzp=:i;=z*=: izpzisr:^-- :zp— p— ^ d: :p:ziir:U=q put my right hand in, put my right hand out, i ^iSJii«^3=rti==li«i3=E=il give my right hand a shake, shake, shake, I turn my - self a :czz:tr: boat. The leader should stand facing the others, and his gestures are exactly as he describes them. MMnP^Di ^fummmm f "mi»H«,(f<|*ll!yr,i".i'i'W'«yy 236 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. I Leader. (Singing and making the appropriate gestures, which all imitate.) I put my right hand in ! (extending the right hand before him.) I put my right hand out ! (tui'ning half round, and again extend- ing the right Jumd.) I give my right hand a shake, shake, shake ! (shaking the right hand.) I turn myself about ! (turns haxik to first position^ The same gestures are performed with the left hand while singing, I put my left hand in ! I put my left hand out 1 I give my left hand a shake, shake, shake ! I turn myself about ! The same performance is gone through with both hands, while singing. I put my both hands in, etc. At the conclusion of which, the leader continues the gestures with his right foot, singing : I put my right foot in ! I put ray right foot out ! I give my right foot a shake, shake, shake ! I turn myself about ! The same thing is done with the left foot, with the words : I put my left foot in, etc. The head is the next member brought into active service. I put my ugly mug in ! (stretching Hie fiead and neck forward.) I put my ugly mug out ! (turning half round and repeating the same motion.) I give my ugly mug a shake, shake, shake ! (nodding the Jtead vigor- ously.) I turn myself about ! If the gravity of the company will stand this teat, knowing every smile must cost a forfeit, choose a new lea r and try again to collect some for- feits. This will, however, be scarcely called for, as the first time round vv'ill surely provide a pretty large crop of forfeits. The Hutchinson family. Several of the party who do not know the trick of the game must be selected to leave the room, while the others are instructed in their parts GAMES, FORFEITS, ETC. 237 One of the absent ones is then recalled and inti'oduced as Mr. or Miss Hutchinson. The remainder of the party must then imitate exactly every movement made by this member of the Hutchinson family, even of the most trifling description. If the unconscious leader moves an arm, every arm in the company makes the same movement ; if any play of feature, such as a look of surprise, follows, every one in the company assumes the same ex- pression ; if a wondering look is given around the room, the head moving to each side, all make precisely the same gesture. This procedure is con- tinued until Mr. or Miss Hutchinson Number One sees into the little game, and ends it by taking a seat in motionless quiet. Hutchinson Number Two is next ushered in to go through the same ceremonial, and the game is repeated until the Hutchinson family is extinct. It sometimes happens that a quick-witted Hutchinson will find out the trick before acknowledging the discovery, and lead the others a dance they did not anticipate, as one merry young lady " seeing the point," walked slowly and with great gravity up and down a long drawing-room and out of one door into the hall, across this into the room again, and round the room, all the others following htr till they cried for mercy. A gentleman, after staring, yawning, and making horrible grimaces at his imitators, suddenly commenced a series of taps on each side of his nose with the forefingers of both hands, and with constantly increasing rapid- ity, all trying to follow him, till they were so convulsed with laughter that they were forced to admit the joke was all in his hands. The Messenger. The party are seated in a line, or round the sides of a room, and some one previously appointed enters with the message, " My master sends me to you, madam," or " sir," as the case may be, directed to any individual he may select at his option. " What for i " is the natural inquiry. " To do as I do ; " and with this the messenger commences to perform some antic, which the lady or gentleman must imitate — say he wags his head from side to side or taps with one foot incessantly on the floor. The per- son whose duty it is to obey commands his neighbour to the right or to the left to " Do as I do," 'xlso ; and so on until the whole company are in motion, when the messenger leaves the room, re-entering with fresh in- junctions. While the messenger is in the room he must see his master's will obeyed, and no one must keep from the movement without suffering a forfeit. The messenger should be some one ingenious in making the •W^.WJ'W-' JIPI.H mm^tm^^^ WW^ 1,'Vjj," 238 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. antics ludicrous, and yet kept within moderate bounds, and the game will not fail to produce shouts of laughter. Among the other tricks which may be commended are such as rockin^r the body too and fro, wiping the eyes with a pocket-handkerchief, yawn- ing, whistling, stroking the chin or the beard, and making any grimace. Another game, of much the same character, is known by the title, " Thus says the Grand Seignor." The chief difference is that the first player is stationed in the centre of the room, and prefaces his movements, which the others must all follow, by the above words. If he varies his command by framing it, " So says the Grand Seignor," the party must remain still, and decline to follow his example. Any one who moves when he begins with " So," or does not follow him when he commences with " Thus," has to pay a forfeit. €tiquett€ for Rabies. ,TIQUETTE may be defined as the minor morality of life. Its laws, like all other social laws, are the accumlated results of the wisdom and experience of many genera- tions. They form a code with which every educated person is bound to be acquainted ; and the object of this portion of the Cyclopasdia is to place that code before the reader in as succinct, as agreeable, and as explanatory a light as the subject admits of. We hope and believe that it will be found in all respects a trusty and pleasant guide. INTEODUOTIONS. To introduce persons who are mutually unknown is to undertake a ser- ious responsibility, and to certify to each the respectability of the other. Never undertake this responsibility without, in the first place, asking yourself whether the persons are likely to be agreeable to each other ; nor^ in the second place without ascertaining whether it will be acceptable to both parties to become_ acquainted. '^"-mm m^^m mmit "■■■■^"■■"^"MVRRilViPiPNIR^ini^il INTRODUCTIONS. 239 Always introduce the gentleman to the lady — never the lady to the gentleman. The chivalry of etiquette assumes that the lady is invariably the superior in right of her sex, and that the gentleman is honoured in the introduction. Never present a gentleman to a lady without first asking her permis- sion to do so. When you are introduced to a gentleman, never offer your hand. When introduced, persons limit their recognition of each other to a bow. Persons who have met at the house of a mutual friend without being introduced should not bow if they afterwards meet elsewhere. A bow implies acquaintance ; and persons who have not been introduced are not acquainted. If you are walking with one friend, and presently meet with, or are joined by, a second, do not commit the too frequent error of introducing them to each other. You have even less right to do so than if they en- countered each other at your house during a morning call. There are some exceptions to the etiquette of introduction. At a ball, or evening party where there is dancing, the mistress of the house may introduce any gentleman to any lady without first asking the lady's per- mission. But she should fii-st ascertain whether the lady is willing to dance ; and this out of consideration for the gentleman, who may other- wise be refused. No man likes to be refused the hand of a lady, though it be only for a quadrille. A sister may present her brother, or a mother her son, without any kind of preliminary. Friends may introduce friends at the house of a mutual acquaintance ; but, as a rule, it is better to be introduced by the mistress of the house. Such an introduction carries more authority with it. Introductions at evening parties are now almost wholly dispensed with. Persons who meet at a friend's house are ostensibly upon an equality, and pay a bad compliment to the host by appearing suspicious and formal. Some old-fashioned country hosts still persevere in introducing each new comer to all the assembled guests. It is a custom that cannot be too soon abolished, and one that places the last unfortunate visitor in a singularly awkward position. All that she can do is to make a semicircular cour- tesy, like a concert singer before an audience, and bear the general gaze with as much composure as possible. An introduction given at a ball for the mere purpose of conducting a lady through a dance does not give the gentleman any right to bow to her I 240 THE HOME, FAEIM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.EDI.V. ! on a future occasion. If he commits this error, she may remember that she is not bound to see, or return, his salutation. LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION. Do not lightly give or jn-omise letters of introduction. Always remeni- lier that when you give a letter of introduction you lay yourself under an obligation to the friend to whom it is addressed. If she lives in a great city, such as Chicago or Boston, you in a measure compel her to undergo the penalty of escorting the stranger to some of those places of public en- tertainment in which the capital abounds. If your friend be a married lady, and the mistress of a house, you put her to the expense of inviting the stranger to her table. We cannot be too cautious how we tax the time and purse of a friend, or weigh too seriously the question of mutual advantage in the introduction. Always ask yourself whether the person introduced will be an acceptable acquaintance to the one to whom you present her ; and whether the pleasure of knowing her will compensate for the time or money which it costs to entertain her. If the stranger is in any way unsuitable in habits or temperament, you inflict an annoy- ance on your friend instead of a pleasure. In questions of introduction never oblige one friend to the discomfort of another. Those to whom letters of introduction have been given should send them to the person to whom they are addressed, and enclose a card. Avoid delivering a letter of introduction in person. It places you in the most undignified position imaginable, and compels you to wait while it is being read, like a servant who has been told to wait for an answer. If the re- ceiver of the letter be a really well-bred person, she will call upon you or leave her card the next day, and you should return her attention within the week. If, on the other hand, a stranger sends you a letter of introduction and her card, you are bound by the laws of politeness and hospitality, not only to call upon her the next day, but to follow up that attention with others. If you are in a position to do so, the most correct proceeding is to invite her to dine with you. Should this not be within your power, you can probably escort her to some of the exhibitions, bazaars, or con- certs of the season ; any of which would be interesting to a provincial visitor. In short, etiquette demands that you shall exert youi-sclf to show kindness to the stranger, if only out of compliment to the friend who in- troduced her to you. If you invite her to take dinner with you, it is a better compliment to ask some others to meet her, than to dine with her t4te-d,-t4te. You are ii ''■III 1 .*l;| 1 ■ -^'i^ll. 1 ^K . 'ulii '•ll.,*' ,1 '•' « •Ui there assist gave A your guara ter ui easy i forwa inspec Visi have I length your M Oni your a if the f Shoi you cal visit is Unk your ai send ro Leav corner. Autoj but th( graphs, Visits occasion very int row moi Onth death of Umbr Never morning VISITING CARDS. 241 thereby giving her an opportunity of making other acquaintances, and are assistirfg your friend in still further promoting the purpose for which she gave her the introduction to yourself. A letter of introduction should be given unsealed, not alone because your friend might wish to know what you have said of her, but also as a guarantee of your own good faith. As you should never give such a let- ter unless you can speak highly of the bearer, this rule of etiquette is easy to observe. By requesting your friend to fasten the envelope before forwarding the letter to its destination, you tacitly give her permission to inspect its contents. VISITING CARDS. Visits of ceremony should be short. If even the conversation should have become animated, beware of letting your call exceed half an hour's length. It is always better to let your friends regret rather than desire your withdrawal. On returning visits of ceremony you may, without impoliteness, leave your card at the door without going in. Do not fail, however, to inquire if the family be well. Should there be daughters or sisters residing with the lady upon whom you call, you may turn down a corner of your card, to signify that the visit is paid to all. It is better taste, however, to leave cards for each. Unless when returning thanks for " kind inquiries," or announcing your arrival in, or departure from, town, it is not considered respectful to send round cards by a servant. Leave-taking cards have P.P.C. (pour prendre cong^ written in the corner. Son»e use P.D.A. (pour dire adieu). Autographic fac-similes for visiting cards are affectations in any persons but those who are personally remarkable for talent, and whose auto- graphs, or fac-similes of them, would be prized as curiosities. Visits of condolence are paid within the week after the event which occasions them. Personal visits of this kind are made by relations and very intimate friends only. Acquaintances should leave cards with nar- row mourning borders. On the first occasion when you are received by the family after the death of one of its members, it is etiquette to wear slight mourning. Umbrellas should invariably be left in the hall. Never take favourite dogs into a drawing-room when you make a morning call. Their feet may be dusty, or they may bark at the sight of 242 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. strangers, or, being of a too friendly disposition, may take the liberty of lying on a lady's gown, or jumping on the sofas and easy chairs. •Where your friend has a favourite cat already established before the fire, a battle rriay ensue, and one or both of the pets be seriously hurt. Besides, many persons have a constitutional antipathy to dogs, and others never allow their own to be seen in the sitting-rooms. For all or any of these reasons, a visitor has no right to inflict upon her friend the society of her dog as well as of herself. Neither is it well for a mother to take young children with her when she pays morning visits ; their presence, unless they are unusually well trained, can only bo productive of anxiety to both your- self and your hostess. She, while striving to amuse them, or to appear interested in them, is secretly anxious for the fate of her album, or the ornaments on her (ftaghe ; while the mother is trembling lest the children should say or do something objectionable. If other visitors are announced, and you have already remained as long as coui*tesy requires, wait till they are seated, and then rise from your chair, take leave of your hostess, and bow politely to the newly arrived guests. You will, perhaps, be urged to remain, but having orce risen, it is best to go. There is always a certain air of gauchaie in resuming your seat and repeating the ceremony of leave-taking. If you have occasion to look at your watch during a call, ask permis- sion to do so, and apologize for it on the plea of other appointments. In receiving morning visitors, it is not necessary that the lady should lay aside the employment in which she may be engaged, particularly if it consists of light or ornamental needle-work. Politeness, however, re- quires that music, drawing, or any occupation which would completely engross the attention, be at once abandoned. You need not advance to receive visitors when announced, unless they are persons to whom you are desirous of testifying particular attention. It is sufficient if a lady rises to receive her visitors, moves forward a sin- gle step to shake hands with them, and remains standing till they are seated. When your visitors lise to take leave you should rise also, and remain standing till they have quite left the room. A lady should dress well, but not too richly, when she pays a morning visit. CONVERSATION. There is no conversation so graceful, so varied, so sparkling, as that of an intellectual and cultivated woman. Excellence in this particular is. CONVERSATION. 243 n indeed, one of the attributes of the sex, and should be cultivated by every gentlewoman who aspires to please in general society. In order to talk well, three conditions are indispensable, namely — tact, a good memory, and a fair education. Remember that people take more interest in their own affairs than in anything else which you can name. If you wish your conversation to be thoroughly agreeable, lead a mother to talk of her children, a young lady of her last ball, an author of his forthcoming book, or an artist of his ex- hibition picture. Having furnished the topic, you need only listen ; and you are sure to be thought not only agreeable, but thoroughly sensible and well-informed. Be careful, however, on the other hand, not always to make a point of talking to persons upon general matters relating to their profession. To show an interest in their immediate concerns is flattering ; but to converse with them too much about their own arts looks as if you thought them ignorant of other topics. Remember in conversation that a voice " gentle and low " is, above all other extraneous acquirements, " an excellent thing in woman." There is a certain distinct but subdued tone of voice which is peculiar to only well- bred persons. A loud voice is both disagreeable and vulgar. It is better to err by the use of too low rather than too loud a tone. Remember that all " slang " is vulgar. The use of proverbs is equ«lly vulgar in conversation ; and puns, unless they rise to the rank of vitticisms, are to be scrupulously avoided. A lady-punster is a most unpleaaing phenomenon, and we would adv^ise no young woman, however witty she may be, to cultivate this kind of verbal talent. Long arguments in general company, however entertaining to the dis- putants, are tiresome to the last degree to all others. You should always endeavour to prevent the conversation from dwelling too long upon one topic. Religion is a topic which should never be introduced into society. It is the one subject on which persons are most likely to differ, and least able to preserve temper. Never interrupt a person who is speaking. It has been aptly said that " if you interrupt a speaker in the middle of his sentence, you act almost as rudely as if, when walking with a companion, you were to thrust your- self before him, and stop his progress." To listen well is almost as great an art as to talk well. It is not enough i: 244 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. only to listen. You must endeavour to seem interested in the conversa- tion of others. It is considered extremely ill bred when two persons whisper in society, or converse in a language with which all present are not familiar. If you 1 ave private matters to discuss, you should appoint a proper time and place to do so, without paying others the ill compliment of excluding them from your conversation. If a foreigner bo one of the guests at a small party, and does not under- stand English sufficiently to follow what is said, good breeding demands that the conversation shall be carried on in his own language. If at a dinner-party, the same rule applies to those at his end of the table. If upon the entrance of a visitor you carry on the thread of a previous conversation, you should briefly recapitulate to him what has been said before he arrived. Do not be alwaye witty, even though you should be so happily gifted as to need the caution. To outshine others on every occasion is the surest road to unpopularity. Always look, but never stare, at those with whom you converse. In order to meet the general needs of conversation in society, it is neces- sary that a gentlewoman should be acquainted with the current news and historical events of, at least, the last few years. Never talk upon subjects of which you know nothing, unless it be for thb purpose of acquiring information. Many young ladies imagine that because they play a little, sing a little, draw a little, and frequent exhibi- tions aud operas, they are qualified, judges of art. No mistake is more egregious or universal. Those who introduce ai. ?cdotes into their conversation are warned that these should invariably be " short, witty, eloquent, new, and not far- fetched." Scandal is the least excusable of all conversational vulgarities. DRESS. To dress well itqinres something more than a full purse and a pretty figure. It needs taste, good sense, and refinement. Dress may almost bo classed us one of the tine arts. It is certainly one of those arts the culti- vation of which is indispensable to any person moving in the upper or middle classes of society. Very clever women are too frequently indifferent to the graces cf the toilette ; and women who wish to be thought clever a^Ject indiflerence. In the one case it is an '^rror, ana in the other a folly. l^ DBESS. 245 It is not enough that a gentlewomen should be clever, or well-educated, or well-born. To take her due place in society, she must be acquainted with a.11 that this little book proposes to teach. She must, above all else, know how to enter a room, how to perform a graceful salutation, and how to dress. Of these three important qualificAtions, the meat important, because the most observed, is the latter. Let your style of dress always be appropriate to the hour of the day. To dress too finely in the morning, or to be seen in a morning dress in the evening, is equally vulgar and out of place. Light and inexpensive materials are fittest for morning wear ; dark silk dresses for the promenade or carriage ; and low dresses of rich or trans- parent stuffs for the dinner and ball. A young lady cannot dress with too much simplicity in the early part of the day. A morning dress of some simple material, and delicate whole colour, with collar and cuflTs of spotless linen, is, perhaps, the most becoming and elegant of morning toileUes. Never dress very richly or showily in the street. It attracts ati^ention of no enviable kind, and is looked upon as a want of good breeding. In the carriage a lady may dress as elegantly as she pleases. With respect to ball-room toilette, its fashions are so variable, that statements which are true of it to-day may be false a month hence. Respecting no institu- tion of modern society, is it so difficult to pronounce half-a-dozen perma- nent rules. We may, pei'haps, be permitted to suggest the following leading princi- ples ; but we do so with diffidence. Rich colours harmonize with rich brunette complexions and dark hair. Delicate colours are the most suita- ble for delicate and fragile styles of beauty. Very youn* ladies are never so suitably attired as in white. Ladies who dance should wear dresses of light and diaphanous materials, such as tiUle, gauze, crape, net, etc., over coloured silk slips. Silk dresses are not suitable for dancing. A married lady who dances only a few quadrilles may wear a decolleUe silk dress with propriety. Very stout persons should never wear white. It has the effect of adding to the bulk of the figure. Black and scarlet, or black and violet, are worn in mourning. A lady in deep mourning should not dance at all. However fashionable it may be to wear very long dresses, those ladies who go to a ball with the intention of dancing, and enjoying the dance, should cause their dresses to be made short enough to clear the ground. We would ask them whether it is not better to accept this slight deviatiuu 246 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. from an absurd fashion, than to appear for three parts of the evening in a torn and pinned-up skirt ? Well-made shoes, whatever their colour or material, and faultless gloves, are indispensable to the effect of a ball-room toilette. Much jewellery is out of place ina ball-room. Beautiful flowers, whether natural or artificial, are the loveliest ornaments that a lady can wear on 4hese occasions. At small dinner parties, low dresses are not so indispensable as they were held to be some years since. High dresses of transparent materials, and low bodices with capes of black lace, are considered sufficiently full dress on these occasions. At large dinners only the fullest dress is appro- priate. Very young ladies should wear but little jewellery. Pearls are deemed most appropriate for the young and unmarried. Let your jewellery be always the best of its kind. Nothing is so vulgar, either in youth or in age, as the use of false ornaments. There is as much propriety to be observed in the wearing of jewellery as in the wearing of dresses. Diamonds, jjearls, rubies, and all transparent precious stones, belong to evening dress, and should on no account be worn before dinner. In the morning let your rings be of the more simple and massive kind ; wear no bracelets; and limit your jewellery to a good brooch, gold chain, and watch. Your diamonds and pearls would be as much out of place during the morning as a low dress, or a wret.th. It is well to remember in the choice of jewellery that mere costliness is not always the test of value ; and that an exquisite work of art, such as a fine cameo, or a natural rarity, such as black pearl, is a more distingu^e possession than a large brilliant which any rich aad tasteless vulgarian can buy as easily as yourself. Of all precious stones, the opal is one of the most lovely and least common-place. No vulgar woman purchases an opal. She invariably prefers the more f howy ruby, emerald, or sapphire. A true gentlewoman is always faultlessly neat. No richness of toilette in the afternoon, no diamonds in the evening, can atone for unbrushed hair, a soiled collar, or untidy slippers at breakfast. Never be seen in the street without gloves. Your gloves should fit to the last degree of perfection. In these days of public baths and universal progress, we trust that it i& unnecessary to do moj-e than hint at the necessity of the most fastidious personal cleanliness. The hair, the teeth, the nails, should be faultlessly kept; and a muslin dress that has Veen worn once too often, a dingy pocket-handkerchief, or a soiled pair of light gloves, are things to be scru- ■■ MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES. 247 pulously avoided by any young lady who is ambitioup preserving the exterior of a gentlewoman. Remember that the make of your corsage is of even greater importance than the make of your dress. No dressmaker can fit you well, or make your bodices in the manner most becoming to your figure, if the corsage beneath be not of the best description. Your shoes and gloves should always be faultless. Perfumes should be used only in the evening, and then in moderation. Let your perfumes be of the most delicate and recherche kind. Nothing is more vulgar than a coarse, ordinary scent ; and of all coarse ordinary scents, the most objectionable are musk and patchouli. Finally, every lady should remember that to dress well is a duty which she owes to society ; but that to make it her idol is to commit something worse than a folly. Fashion is made for woman ; not woman for fashion. MORNma AND EVENING PARTIES. The morning party is a modern invention. It was unknown to our fa- thers and mothers, and even to ourselves till quite lately. A morning party is given during the months of June, July, August, September, and sometimes October. It begins about two o'clock and ends about seven, and the entertainment consists for the most part of conversation, music, and (if there be a garden) croquet, lawn tennis, archery, etc. The refresh- ments are given in the form of a dejedner a la foiirchette. Receptions are held during the winter season. Elegant morning dress, general good manners, and some acquaintance with the topics of the day and the games above named, are all the qualifi- cations especially necessarj' to a lady at a morning party, and " At Homes," music and elocution at receptions. An evening party begins about nine o'clock p. m., and ends about mid- night, or somewhat later. Good-breeding neither demands that you chould present yourself at the commancement, nor remiin till the close of the evening. You come and go as may be most convenient to you, and by th^se means are at liberty, during the height of the season when even- ing parties are numerous, to present yourself at two or three houses during a single e^ ening. When your name is announced, look for the lady of the house, and pay your respects to her before you even seem to see any other of your friends who may be in the room. At very large and fashionable receptions, the hostess is generally to be found near the door. Should you, however, find *1: 248 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. yourself separated by a dense crowd of guests, you are at literty to recog- nise those who are near you, and those whom you encounter as you luakQ your way slowly through the throng. If you are at the house of a new acquaintance and find yourself among entire strangers, remember that by so meeting under one roof you are all in a certain sense made known to cae another, and should, therefore, con- verse freely as equals. To shrink away to a side-table and affect to be absorbed in some album or illustrated work ; or, if you find one unlucky acquaintance in the room to fasten upon her like a drowning man clinging to a spar, are gaucheries which no shyness can excuse. If you possess any musical accomplishment, do not wait to be pressed and entreated by your hostess, but comply immediately when she pays you the compliment of inviting you to play or sing. Remember, however, that only the lady of the house has the right to ask you. If others do so, you can put them off in some polite way, but must not comply till the hostess herself invites you. Be scrupulous to observe silence when any of the company are playing or singing. Remember that they are doing this for the amusement of the rest ; and that to talk at such a time is as ill-bred as if you were to turn your back upon a person who was talking to you and begin a conversation with some one else. If you are yourself the performer, bear in mind that in music, as in s'^ieech, " brevity is the soul of wit." Two verses of a song, or four pages of a piece, are at all times enough to give pleasure. If your audience de- sire more they will ask for it ; and it is infinitely more flattering to be v^ncored tL'»n to receive the thanks of your hearers, not so much in grati- tude for what you have given them, but in relief that you have left off. You should try to suit your music, 'like your conversation, to your com- pany. A sole of Beethoven's would be as much out of place in some circles as a comic song at a Quakers' meeting. To those who only care for the light popularities of the season, give Verdi, Supp^, Sullivan, or Offenbach. To connoisseurs, if you perform well enough to venture, give such music as will be likely to meet the exigencies of a fine taste. Above all, attempt nothing tb it yo\x cannot execute with ease and precision. If the party be of a small and social kind and those games called by the French les jeux in.iocenta are proposed, do not object to join in theiu when invited. It may be that they demand some slight exercise of wit and readiness, and that you do not feel yourself calculated to shine in them ; but it is better to seem dull than disagreeable, and those who are obliging THE DINNER-PARTY. 249 can always find some clever neighbour to assist them in the moment of need. Impromptu charades are frequently organized at friendly parties. Un- less you have really some talent for acting and some readiness of speech, you should remember that you only put others out and expose your own inability by taking part in these entertainments. Of course, if j'our help is really needed, and you would disoblige by refusing, you must do your best, and by doing it as quietly and coolly as possible, avoid being awk- ward or ridiculous. Even though you may take no pleasure in cards, some knowledge of the etiquette and rules belonging to the games most in vogue is necessary to you in society. If a fourth hand is wrnted at euchre, or if the rest of the company sit down to a round game, you would be deemed guilty of an impoliteness if you refused to join. The games most commonly played in society are euchre, draw-poker, and whist. THE DINNEE-PARTY. To be acquainted with every detail of the etiquette pertaining to this subject is of the highest importance to every lady. Etvse, aavoir-faire, and good- breeding are nowhere more indispensable than at the dinner- table, and the absence of them is nowhere more apparent. How to eat soup and what to do with a cherry-stone are weighty considerations when taken as the index of social status ; and it is not too much to say, that a young woman who elected to take claret with her fish, or ate peas with her knife, would justly risk the punishment of being banished from good .society. An invitation to dinner should be replied to immediately, and unequiv- ocally accepted or declined. Once accepted, nothing but an event of the last importance should cause you to fail in your engagement. To be exactly punctual is the strictest politeness on these occasions. If you are too early you are in the way ; if too late you spoil the dinner, annoy the hostess, and are hated by the rest of the guests. Some author- ities are even of opinion that in the question of a dinner party " never " is better than " late ;" and one author has gone so far as to say, "'if you do t reach the house till dinner is served, you had better retire, and send an apology, and not interrupt the harmony of the coui-ses by awkward excuses and cold acceptance." When the party is assembled, the mistress or master of the house will point out to each gentleman the lady whom he is to conduct to the table. 250 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.iiDIA. The lady who is the greatest stranger should be taken down by the master of the house, and the gentleman who is the greatest stranger should conduct the hostess. Married ladies take precedence of single ladies, elder ladies of younger ones, and so forth. When dinner is announced, the host offers his arm to the lady of most distinction, invites the rest to follow by a few words or a bow, and leads the way. The lady of the house should then follow with the gentleman who is most entitled to that honour, and the visitors follow in the order that has been previously arranged. The lady of the house frequently re- mains, however, till the last, that she may see her guests go in their prescribed order ; but the plan is not a convenient one. It is much better that the hostess should be in her place as the guests enter the dining-room in order that she may indicate their seats to them as they enter, and not find them all crowded together in uncertainty when she arrives. The plan of cards, with the names of the guests on the.^i, opposite their chairs, is a verj' useful one. The lady of the house takes the head of the table. The gentleman who led her down to dinner occupies the seat on her right hand, and the gentleman next in order of precedence, that on her left. The master of the house takes the foot of the table. The lady whom he escorted sits on his right hand, and the lady next in order of precedence on his left. As soon as you are seated at table, remove your gloves, place your table napkin across your knee, and remove the roll which you will probably find within to the left side of your plate. The soup should be placed on the table first. All well-ordered dinners begin with soup, whether in summer or winter. The lady of the house should help it, and send it round without asking each individual in turn. It is as much an understood thing as the bread beside each plate, and those who do not choose it are always at liberty to leave it untasted. In eating soup, remember always to take it from the side of the spoon, and to make no sound in doing so. If the servants do not go round with wine, the gentlemen should help the ladies and themselves to sheiry or sauterne immediately after the soup. You should never ask for a second supply of either soup or fish ; it de- lays the next course, and keeps the table waiting. Never offer to " assist " your neighbours to this or that dish. The word is inexpressible vulgar — all the more vulgar for its affectation of elegauce. " Shall I send you some mutton ? " or " may I help you to canvas back ?" is better chosen and better bred. THE DINNER-PARTY. 251 As a general rule, it is better not to ask your guests if they will partake of the dishes ; but to send the plates round, and let them accept or decline them as they please. At very large dinners it is sometimes customary to distribute little lists of the order of the dishes at intervals along the table. It must be confessed that this gives somewhat the air of a dinner at an hotel ; but it has the advantage of enabling the visitors to select their fare* and, as " forewarned is forearmed," to keep a comer, as the children say for their favourite dishes. As soon as you are helped, begin to eat ; or, if the viands are too hot for your palate, take up your knife and fork and appear to begin. To wait for others is now not only old-fashioned, but ill-bred. Never offer to pass on the plate to which you have been helped. In helping soup, fish, or any other dish, remember that to overfill a plate is as bad as to supply it too scantily. Silver fish knives will now always be met with at the best tables ; but where there are none, a piece of crust sheuld be taken in the left hand, and the fork in the right. There is no exception to this rule in eating fish. We presume it is scarcely necessary to remind our fair reader that she is never, under any circumstances, to convey her knife to her mouth* Peas are eaten with the fork ; tarts, curry, and puddings of all kinds with the spoon. Always help fish with a fish-slice, and tart and puddings with a spoon, or, if necessary, a spoon and fork. Asparagus must be helped with the asparagus-tongs. In eating asparagus, it is well to observe what others do, and act ac- cordingly. Some very well-bred people eat it with the fingers ; others cut off" the heads, and convey them to the mouth up' n the fork. It would be difficult to say which is the more correct. In eating stone fruit, such as cherries, damsons, etc., the same rule had better be observed. Some put the stones out from the mouth into a spoon and so convey them «> t,)u' plate. Others cover the lips with the hand, drop thsm uns 'on into the palm, and so deposit them on the side of the plate. In our own opinion, the latter is the better way, as it effectually conceals the return of the stones which is certainl}' the point of highest importance. Of one thing we may be sure, and that is, that they must never be dropped from the mouth to the plate. In helping sauce, always pour it on the side of the plate. If the servants, do net gu round with the wine (which is by far the best custom) the gentlemen at a dinner- table should take upon themselves the office o! helping those ladies who sit near them. i 252 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. i I i I I i i :! I:! Unless you are a total abstainer, it is extremely uncivil to decline taking wine if you are invited to do so. It is particularly ill-bred to empty your glass on these occasions. Certain wines are taken with certain dishes, by old-established custom — as sherry or sauterne, with soup and fish ; hock and claret with roast meat ; punch with turtle ; champagne with sweet-bread or cutlets ; port with venison ; port or burgundy with game ; sparkling wines between the roast and the confectionery ; madeira with sweets ; port with cheese ; and for dessert, port, tokay, madeira, sherry, and claret. Red wines should never be iced, even in summer. Claret and burgundy should always be slightly warmed ; claret-cup and champagne should, of course, be iced. Instead of cooling their wines in the ice-pail, some hosts introduce clear ice upon the table, broken up in small lumps, to be put inside the glasses. This cannot be too strictly reprehended. Melting ice can but weaken the quality and flavour of the wine. Those who desire to drink wine and water can ask for iced water if they choose ; but it savors too much of economy on the part of a host to insinuate the ice inside the glasses of his guests when the wine could be more effectually iced outside the bottle. A silver knife and fork should be placed to each guest at dessert. It is wise never to partake of any dish without knowing of what in- gredients it is composed. You can always ask the servant who hands it to you, and you thereby avoid all danger of having to commit the impo- liteness of leaving it, and showing that you do not approve of it. Never speak while you have anything in your mouth. Be careful never to taste soups or puddings till you are sure they are sufficiently cool ; as, by disregarding this caution, you may be compelled to swallow what is dangerously hot, or be driven to the unpardonable alternative of returning it to your plate. When eating or drinking, avoid every kind of audible testimony to the fact. Finger-glasses, containing water slightly warmed and perfumed, are placed to each person at dessert. In these you may dip the tips of your fingers, wiping them afterwards on your table-napkin. If the finger-glass and doyley are placed on your dessert-plate, you should immediately remove the doyley to the left of your plate, and place the finger-glass upon it. By these means you leave the right for the wine-glasses. Be careful to know the shapes of the various kinds of wine-glasses com- monly in use, in order that you may never put forward one for another. mm THE DINNER-PARTY. 253 High and narrow, and very broad and shallow glasses, are used for cham- pagne ; large goblet-shaped glasses for burgundy and claret ; ordinary wine-glasses for sherry and madeira ; green glasses for hock ; and some- what large, bell-shaped glasses for port. Port, sherry, and madeira are decanted. Hocks and champagnes appear in their native bottles. Claret and burgundy are handed round in a claret- jug- The servants leave the room when the dessert is on the table. Coffee and liqueurs should be handed round when the dessert has been about a quarter of an hour on the table. After this the ladies generally retire. The lady of the house should never send away her plate, or appear to have done eating, till all her guests have finished. If you should unfortunately overturn or break anything, do not apolo- gize for it. You can show your regret in your face, but it is not well-bred to put it into words. To abstain from taking the last piece on the dish, or the last glass of wine in the decanter, only because it is the last, is highly ill-bred. It implies a fear on your part that the vacancy cannot be supplied, and almost conveys an affront to your host. To those ladies who have houses and servants at command, we have one or two remarks to offer. Every housekeeper should be acquainted with the routine of a dinner and the etiquette of a dinner-table. No lady should be utterly dependent on the taste and judgment of her cook. Though she need not know how to dre^s a dish, she should be able to judge of it when served. The mistress of the house, in short, should be to a cook what a publisher is to his authors — that is to say, competent to form a judgment upon their works, though himself incapable of writing even a magazine article. If you wish to have a good dinner, and do not know in what manner to set about it, you will do wisely to order it from some first-rate restaura- teur. By these means you insure the best cookery and a faultless carte. Bear in mind that it is your duty to entertain your friends in the best manner that your means permit. This is the least you can do to recom- pense them for the expenditure of time and money which they incur in accepting your invitation. " To invite a friend to dinner," says Brillat Savarin, " is to become res- ponsible for his happiness so long as he is under your roof." A dinner, to be excellent, need not consist of a gieat variety of dishes ; but everything should be of the best, and the cookery should be perfect. 254 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiEDIA. That which should be cool should be cool as ice ; that which should be hot should be smoking ; the attendance should be rapid and noiseless ; the guests well assorted ; the wines of the best quality ; the host attentive and courteous ; the room well lighted, and the time punctual. Every dinner should begin with soup, be followed by fish, and include some kind of game. " The soup is to the dinner," we are told by Grisnod de la Regnidro, " what the portico is to a building, or the overture to an opera." To this aphorism we may be permitted to add that a chasse of cognac or cura^oa at the close of a dinner is like the epilogue at the end of a comedy. Never reprove or give directions to your servants before guests. If a dish is not placed precisely where you would have wished it to stand, or the order of a course is reversed, let the error pass unobserved by youi-self, and you may depend that it will be unnoticed by others. The duties of hostess at a dinner-party are not onerous ; but they de- mand tact and good breeding, grace of bearing, and self-possession of no ordinary degree. She does not often carve. She has no active duties to perform ; but she must neglect nothing, forget nothing, put all her guests at their ease, encourage the timid, draw out the silent, and pay every possible attention to the requirements of each and all around her. No accident must ruffle her temper. No disappointment must embaiTass her. She must see her old china broken without a sigh, and her best glass shat- tered with a smile. STAYING AT A FRIEND'S HOUSE-BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON, ETC. A visitor is bound by the laws of social intercourse to conform in all respects to the habits of the house. In order to do this effectually, slie should inquire, or cause her personal servant to inquire, what those habits are. To keep your friend's breakfast on the table till a late hour ; to delay the dinner by want of punctuality; to accept other invitations, and treat his house as if it were merely an hotel to be slept in ; or to keep the family up till unwonted hours, are alike evidences of a want of good feel- ing and good-breeding. At breakfast and lunch absolute punctuality is not imperative ; but a visitor should avoid being always the last to appear at table. No order of precedence is observed at either breakfast or luncheon. Persons take their seats as they come in, and, having exchanged their GENERAL HINTS. 295 morning sahitations, begin to eat without waiting for the rest of the party. If letters are delivered to you at breakfast or luncheon, 3'ou may read them by asking permission from the lady who presides at the urn. Alwa3's hold yourself at the disposal of those in whose house you are visiting. If they propose to ride, drive, walk, or otherwise occupy the day, you may take it for granted that these plans are made with reference to your enjoyment. You should, therefore, receive them with cheerfulnes.««, enter into them with alacrity, and do your best to seem pleased, and be please«l, by the efforts which your friends make to entertain you. You should never take a book from the library to your own room with- out requesting permission to borrow it. When it is lent, you should take every care that it sustains no injury while in your possession, and should cover it, if necessary. A guest should endeavour to amuse herself as much as possible, and not be continually dependent on her hosts for entertainment. She should remember that, however welcome she'may be, she is not always wanted. A visitor should avoid giving unnecessary trouble to the servants of the house. The signal for retiring to rest is generally given by the appearance of the servant with wine, water, and biscuits, where a late dinner hour is observed, and suppers are not the custom. This is the last refreshment of the evening, and the visitor will do well to rise and wish good night shortly after it has been partaken of by the family. GENERAL HINTS. Do not frequently repeat the name of the person with whom you are conversing. It implies either the extreme of hauteur or familiarity. Never speak of absent persons by only their Christian or surnames; but always as Mr. , or Mrs. . Above all, never name anybody by the first letter of his name. Married people are sometimes guilty of this flagrant offence against taste. Look at those who address you. Never boast of your birth, your money, your grand friends, or anything that is yours. If you have travelled, do not introduce that information into your conversation at every opportunity. Any one can travel with money and leisure. The real distinction is to come home with enlarged views, improved tastes, and a mind free from prejudice. If you present a book to a friend, do not write his or her name in it, unless requested. You have no right to presume that it will be rendered w ^ >, ^> ^#. .o-^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) \\j I" ■ I.I M 12.5 2.2 1^ - IAS ill 10 u 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 •4 6" ► Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 256 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. any the more valuable for that addition ; and you ought not to conclude beforehand that your gift will be accepted. Never undervalue the gift which you are yourself offering ; you have no business to offer it if it is valueless. Neither say that you do not want it yourself, or that you should throw it away if it were not accepted, etc., etc. Such apologies would be insults if true, and mean nothing if false. No compliment that bears insincerity on the face of it, is a compliment at all. Presents made by a married lady to a gentleman can only be offered in the joint names of her husband and herself Married ladies may occasionally accept presents from gentlemen who visit frequently at their houses, and who desire to show their sense of the hospitality which they receive there. Acknowledge the receipt of a present without delay. Give a foreigner his name in full, as Monsieur de Vigny — never as Mon- sieur only. In speaking of him, give him his title, if he has one. Converse with a foreigner in his own language. If not competent to do so, apologize, and beg permission to speak English. To get in and out of a carriage gracefully is a simple but important accomplishment. If there is but one step, and you are going to tal ^ the seat facing the horses, put your left foot '^:i the step, and enter tht canl- age with your right, in such a manner as to drop at once into your sea.. If you are about to sit with your back to the horses, reverse the process. As you step into the carriage, be careful to keep your back towards the seat you are about to occupy, so as to avoid the awkwardness of turning when you are once in. conclude '^ou have- lot want (ted, etc., false, apliment )fFered in men who ise of the : as Mon- k ,ent to do rnportant t&\ '■'■ the [tht caixl- oar seav. process. Hoards the turning f ';!-' 'ANOUNO.' I assumes 1 that the ^ Never sion to do When ■> introducec Persons introducec implies ac( acquainted If you I joined by, them to ea encountere There ar or evening introduce a mission. I dance; and wise be ref i it be only f Q €tiqttcttc for ^cntkniat. mTRODUOTIONS. *0 introduce persons who are mutually unknown is to under- take a serious responsibility, and to certify to each the respectability of the other. Never undertake this respon- sibility without in the first place asking yourself whether the persons are likely to be agreeable to each other ; nor, in the second place, without ascertaining whether it will be acceptable to Ijoth parties to become acquainted. Always introduce the gentleman to the lady — never the lady to the gentleman. The chivalry of etiquette assumes that the lady is invariably the superior in right of her sex, and that the gentleman is honoured by the introduction. Never present a gentleman to a lady without first asking her permis- sion to do so. When you are introduced to a lady, never offer your hand. When introduced, persons iimit their recognition of each other with a bow. Persons who have met at the house of a mutual friend without being introduced, should not bow if they afterwards meet elsewhere ; a bow implies acquaintance, and persons who have not been introduced are not acquainted. If you are walking with one friend, and presently meet with, or are joined by, a second, do not commit the too frequent error of introducing them to each other. You have even less right to do so than if they encountered each other at your house during a morning call. There are some exceptions to the etiquette of introductions. At a ball or evening party, where there is dancing, the mistress of the house may introduce any gentleman to any lady without first asking the lady's per- mission. But she should first ascertain whether the lady is willing to dance ; and this out of consideration for the gentleman, who may other- wise be refused. No man likes to be refused the hand of a lady, though it be only for a quadrille. Q 258 THE HOME, FAKM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiEDIA- A brother may present his sister, or a father his son, without any kind of preliminary : but only when there is no inferiority on the part of his own family to that of the acquaintance. Friends may introduce friends at the house of a mutual acquaintance, but, as a rule, it is better to be introduced by the mistress of the house. Such an introduction carries more authority with it. Introductions at evening parties are now almost wholly dispensed with. Persons who meet at a friend's house are ostensibly upon an equality, and pay a bad compliment to the host by appearing suspicious and formal. Some old-fashioned country hosts yet persevere in introducing each new- comer to all the assembled guests. It is a custom that cannot be too soon abolished, and one that places the last unfortunate visitor in a singularly awkward position. All that he can do is to make a semicircular bow, like a concert singer before an audience, and bear the general gaze with as much composure as possible. If, when entering the drawing-room, your name has been wrongly announced, or has passed unheard in th^buzz of conversation, make your way at once to the mistress of the house, if you are a stranger, and intro- duce yourself by name. This should be done with the greatest simplic- ity, and your professional or titular rank made as little of as possible. An introduction given at a ball for the mere purpose of conducting a lady through a dance does not give the gentleman any right to bow to her on a future occasion. If he commits this error, he must remember that she is not bound to see or return his salutation. LETTERS OF INTRODUOTION. Do not lightly give or promise letters of introduction. Always remem- ber that when you give a letter of introduction you lay yourself under an obligation to the friend to whom it is addressed. No one delivers a letter of introduction in person. It places you in the most undignified position imaginable, and compels you to wait while it is being read, like a footman who has been told to wait for an answer. If, on the other hand, a stranger sends you a letter of introduction and his card, you are bound by the laws of politeness and hospitality, not only to call upon him the next day, but to follow up that attention with others. If you are in a position to do so, the most correct proceeding is to invito him to dine with you. Should this not be within your power, you have probably the entree to some private collections, club-houses, theatres, or reading-rooms, and could devote a few hours to showing him these places. t VISITING -MORNING CALLS-CARDS. 269 cind : his ance, ouse. witli. r, and jrmal. . new- soon ;ularly ,r bow, vith as rrongly :e your i intro- simplic- ible. icting a bow to member remem- inder an )U in the hile it is er. tion and not only h others, to invito rou have satres, or im A letter of introduction should be given unsealed, not alone because your friend may wish to know what you have said of him, but also as a guarantee of your own good faith. As you should never give such a letter unless you can speak highly of the bearer, this rule of etiquette is easy to observe. By requesting your friend to fasten the envelope before for- warding the letter to its destination you tacitly give him permission to inspect its contents. Let your note paper be of the best quality and proper size. VISITING-MORNING OALLS-OARDS. A morning visit should be paid between the hours of 2 and 4 p.m. in winter, and 2 and 5 in summer. Visits of ceremony should be short. If even your conversation should become animated, beware of letting your call exceed half an hour's length. It is always better to let your friends regret rather than desire your withdrawal. On returning visits of ceremony you may, without impoliteness, leave your card at the door without going in. Do not fail, however, to inquire if the family be well. Should there be daughters or sisters residing with the lady upon whom you call, you may turn down a comer of your card, to signify that the visit is paid to all. It is in better taste, however, Lo leave cards for each. Unless when retumii^ thanks for " kind inquiries," or announcing your arrival in, or departure from, town, it is not considered respectful to send cards round by a servant. Leave-taking cards have P.P.C. {^onr 'prendre conge) written in the comer. Some use P.D. A. (pour dire adieu). The visiting cards of gentlemen are half the size of those used by ladies. Visits of condolence are paid within the week after the event which occasions them. Personal visits of this kind are made by relations and very intimate friends only. Acquaintances should leave cards with nar- row mourning borders. On the first occasion, when you are received by the family after the death of one of its members, it is etiquette to wear slight mourning. When a gentleman makes a morning call, he should never leave his hat or riding-whip in the hall, but should take both into the room. To do otherwise would be to make himself too much at home. The hat, how- «ver, must never be laid on a table, piano, or any article of furniture, it 260 THE HOME, FABM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. should be held gracefully in the hand. If you are compelled to lay it aside put it on the floor. Umbrellas should invariably be left in the hall. Never take favourite dogs into a drawing-room when you make a mor- ning call. Their feet may be dusty, or they may bark at the sight of strangers, or, being of too friendly a disposition, may take the liberty of lying on a lady's gown, or jumping on the sofas and easy chairs. Where your friend has a favourite cat already established before the fire, a battle may ensue, and one or both of the pets be seriously hurt. Besides, many persons have a constitutional antipathy to dogs, and others never allow their own to be seen in the sitting-rooms. For all or any of those reasons, a visitor has no right to inflict upon his friend the society of his dog as well as of himself. If, when you call upon a lady, you meet a lady visitor in her drawing- room, you should rise when that lady takes her leave. If other visitors are announced, and you have already remained as long as courtesy requires, wait till they are seated, and then rise from your chair, take leave of your hostess, and bow politely to the newly-arrived guests. You will, perhaps, be urged to remain, but, having once risen, it is always best to go. There is always a certain air of gaucherie in resum- ing your seat and repeating the ceremony of leave-taking. If you have occasion to look at your watch during a call, ask permis- sion to do so, and apologize for it on the plea of other appointments. CONVEESATION. Let your conversation be adapted as skilfully as may be to your com- pany. Some men make a point of talking commonplace to all ladies alike, as if a woman could only be a trifler. Others, on the contrary, for- get in what respects the education of a lady difiers from that of a gentle- man, and commit the opposite error of conversing on topics with which ladies are seldom acquainted. A woman of sense has as much right to be annoyed by the one, as a lady of ordinary education by the other. You cannot pay a finer compliment to a woman of refinement and esprit than by leading the conversation into such a channel as may mark your appre- ciation of her superior attainments. In talking with ladies of ordinary education, avoid political, scientific or commercial topics, and choose only such subjects as are likely to be of interest to them. Remember that people take more interest in their own afiairs than in anything else which you can name. If you wish your conversation to be CONVERSATION. 261 thoroughly agreeable, lead a mother to talk of her children, a young lady of her last ball, an author of his forthcoming book, or an artist of his exhibition picture. Having furnished the topic, you need only listen and you are sure to be thought not only agreeable but thoroughly sen- sible and well-informed. Be careful, however, on the other hand, not always to make a point of talking to persons upon general matters relating to their professions. To «how an interest in their immediate concerns is flattering ; but to con- verse with them too much about their own arts looks as if you thought them ignorant of other topics. Do not use a classical quotation in the presence of ladies without apolo- gizing for, or translating, it. Even this should only be done when no other phrase would so aptly express your meaning. Whether in the pr"sence of ladies or gentlemen, much display of learning is pedantic and out of place. There is a certain distinct but subdued tone of voice which is peculiar to only well-bred persons. A loud voice is both disagreeable and vulgar. It is better to err by the use of too low rather than too loud a tone. Remember that all " slang " is vulgar. Do not pun. Puns unless they rise to the rank of witticisms, are to be scrupulously avoided. Long arguments in general company, however entertaining to the dis- putants, are tiresome to the last degree to all others. You should always endeavour to prevent the conversation from dwelling too long upon one topic. Religion is a topic which should never be introduced in society. It is the one subject on which persons are most likely to differ, and least able to preserve temper. Never interrupt a person who is speaking. To listen well, is almost as great an art as to talk well. It is not enough only to listen. You must endeavour to seem interested in the conversation of others. It is considered extremely ill-bred when persons whisper in society, or converse in a language in which all present are not familiar. If you have private matters to discuss you should appoint a proper time and place to' do so, without paying others the ill compliment of excluding them from your conversation. If a foreigner be one of the guests at a small party, and does not under- «tand English sufficiently to follow what is said, good-breeding demands '"^-•-^ 'i^w^!^:^.''*!?^'-^?^^'^'^'^^^^^^^-'^^'^ ■i'iiklM li 262 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. that the conversation shall be carried on in his own language. If at a dinner party, the same rule applies to those at his end of the table. If upon the entrance of a visitor you caiTy on the thread of a previous conversation, you should briefly recapitulate to him what has been said before he arrived. Always look, but never stare, at those with whom you converse. In order to meet the general needs of conversation in society, it i» necessary that a man should be well acquaintv 1 with the current news and historical events of at least the last few years. . Never talk upon subjects of which you know nothing, unless it be for the purpose of acquiring information. Many young men imagine that because they frequent exhibitions and operas they are qualified judges of art. No mistake is more egregious or universal. Those who introduce anecdotes into their conversation are warned that these should invariably be "short, witty, eloquent, new, and not far- fetched." Scandal is the least excusable of all conversational vulgarities. In conversing with a man of rank, do not too frequently give him his title. THE PROMENADE. A well-bred man must entertain no respect for the brim of his hat. " A bow," says La Fontaine, " is a note drawn at sight." You are bound to acknowledge it immediately, and to the full amount. True politeness demands that the hat should be quite lifted from the head. On meeting friends with whom you are likely to shake hands remove your hat with the left hand in order to leave the right hand free. If you meet a lady in the street whom you are sufficiently intimate to address, do not stop her, but turn round and walk beside her in which- ever direction she is going. When you have said all that you wish to say, you can take your leave. If you meet a lady with whom you are not particularly well acquainted, wait for her recognition before you venture to bow to her. In bowing to a lady whom you are not going to address, lift your hat with that hand which is farthest from her. For instance, if you pass her on the right side, use your left hand ; if on the left, use yQur right. If you are on horseback and wish to convei-se with a lady who is on foot, yutt must dismount and lead your horse, so as not to give her th& fatigue of looking up to your level. Neither should you subject her ta the impropriety of carrying on a conversation In a tone necessarily louder than is sanctioned in public by the laws of good breeding. DRESS. 263 When you meet friends or acquaintances in the streets, at the exhibi- tions, or any public places, take care not to pronounce their names so loudly as to attract the attention of the passers-by. Never call across the street ; and never carry on a dialogue in a public vehicle, unless your interlocutor occupies the seat beside your own. ♦ In walking with a lady take charge of any small parcel, parasol, or book with which she may be encumbered. DEESS. A gentleman should always be so well dressed that his dress shall never be observed at all. Does this sound like an enigma ? It is not meant for one. It only implies that perfect simplicity is perfect elegance, and that the true test of taste in the toilet of a gentleman is its entire har- mony, unobtrusiveness, and becomingness. If any friend should say to you, " What a handsome waistcoat you have on ! " you may depend that a less handsome waistcoat would be in better taste. If you hear it said that Mr. So and-So wears superb jewellery, you may conclude beforehand that he wears too much. Display, in short, is ever to be avoided, especi- ally in matters of dress. The toilet is the domain of the fair sex. Let a wise man leave its graces and luxuries to his wife, daughters, or sisters, and seek to be himself appreciated for something of higher worth than the stud in his shirt or the trinkets on his chain. To be too much in the fashion is as vulgar as to be too far behind it. No really well-bred man follows every new cut that he sees in his tailor's fashion-book. In the morning wear frock coats, double-breasted waistcoats, and trou- sers of light or dark colours, according to the season. In the evening, though only in the bosom of your own family, wear only black, and be as scrupulous to put on a dress coat as if you expected visitors. If you have sons, bring them up to do the same. It is the observance of these minor trifles in domestic etiquette which marks the true gentleman. For evening parties, dinner parties, and balls, wear a black dress coat, black trousers, black silk or cloth waistcoat, white cravat, white or grey kid gloves, and thin patent leather boots. A black cravat may be worn in full dress, but is not so elegant as a white one. Let your jewellery be of the best, but the least gaudy description, and wear it very sparingly. A single stud, a gold watch and guard, and one handsome ring, are as many ornaments as a gentleman can wear with propriety. ^ili^9^r^''rr' 264 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiEDIA. It is well to remember in the choice of jewellery that mere costliness is not always the test of value ; and that an exquisite work of art, such as a fine cameo, or a natural rarity, such as a black pearl, is a more dis- tingue possession than a largo brilliant, which any rich and tasteless vul- garian can buy as easily as yourself. For a ring, the gentleman of fine taste would prefer a precious antique intaglio to the handsomest diamond or ruby that could be bought at Tiffany's. Of all precious stones, the opal is one of the most lovely and the least commonplace. No vulgar man purchases an opal. He invariably prefers the more showy diamond, ruby, sapphire, or emerald. Unless you are a snuff-taker, never carry any but a white pocket- handkerchief. In the morning you wear a long cravat fastened by a pin, be careful to avoid what may be called alliteration of colour. We have seen a tur- quoise pin worn in a violet- coloured cravat, and the effect was frightful. Choose, if possible, complementary colours, and their secondaries. For instance, if the stone in your pin be torquoise, wear it with brown, or crimson mixed with black, or black and orange. . If a ruby, contrast it with shades of green. The same rule holds good with regard to the mix- ture and contrast of colours in your waistcoat and cravat. Thus, a butt" waistcoat and blue tie, or brown and blue, or brown and green, or brown and magenta, green and magenta, green and mauve, are all good arrange- ments of colour. Coloured shirts may be worn in the morning, but they should be small in pattern and quiet in colour. In these days of public baths and universal progress, we trust that it is unnecessary to do more than hint at the necessity of the most fastidious personal cleanliness. The hair, the teeth, the nails, should be faultlessly kept ; and a soiled shirt, a dingy pocket-handkerchief, or a light waist- coat that has been worn once too often, are things to be scrupulously avoided by any man who is ambitious of preserving the exterior of a gentleman. EDING AND DRIVINa. Riding, as in walking, give the lady the wall. If you assist a lady to mount, hold your hand at a convenient distance from the ground that she may place her foot in it. As she springs, you aid her by the impetus of your hand. In doing this, it is always better to agree upon a signal, that her spring and your assistance may come at the same moment. MORNINQ AND EVENING PARTIES. 205 For this purpose there is no better form than the old duelling one of " one, two, three." When tlie lady is in the saddle, it is your place to find the stirrup for her, and guide her left foot to it. When this is done, she rises in her seat and you assist her to draw her habit straight. Even when a groom is present, it is more polite for the gentleman him- self to perform this office for his fair companion ; as it would bo more polite for him to hand her a chair than to have it haftded by a servant. If the lady be light, you must take care not to give her too much im- petus in mounting. We have known a lady nearly thrown over her horse by a misplaced zeal of this kind. If the gate has to be opened, we need hardly observe that it is your place to hold it open till the lady has passed through. In driving, a gentleman places himself with his back to the horses, and leaves the best seat for the ladies. When the carriage stops, the gentleman should alight first, in order to assist the lady. To get in and out of a carriage gracefully is a simple but important accomplishment. If there is but one step, and you are going to take your seat facing the horses, put your left foot on the step, and enter the carriage with your right in such a manner as to drop at once into your seat. If you are about to sit with your back to the horses, reverse the process. A « you step into the carriage be careful to keep your back towards the seao you are about to occupy, so as to avoid the awkwardness of turning when you are once in. A gentleman cannot be too careful to avoid t^3pping on ladies' dresses when he gets in or out of a carriage. He should also beware of shutting them in with the door. MORNING AND EVENING PAETIES. Elegant morning dress, general good manners, and some acquaintance with the topics of the day and the games above named, are all the quali- fications especially necessary to a gentleman at a morning party. An evening party begins about nine o'clock P.M., and ends about mid- night, or somt.vhat later. Good breeding neither demands tAiat you should present youraelf at the commencement nor remain till the close of the evening. You come and go as may be most convenient for you, and by these meanu are at liberty, during the height of the season when even- "^p^^mwmt i|yiB.j|i|iinji 1 J..yj! *«!..!■ 'T7" ■'' 266 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiEDIA. ing part'<»s are numerc'is, to present yourself at two or three houses dur- ing a single evening. At very large and fashionable receptions, the hostess is generally to be found near the door. Should you, however, find yourself separated by a dense crowd of guests, you are at liberty to recognise those who are near you, and those whom you encounter as you make your way slowly through the throng. If you are at the house of a new acquaintance and find yourself among entire strangers, remember that by so meeting under one roof you are all in a certain sense made known to one another, and should therefore con- verse freely, as equals. To shrink away to some side-table and affect to be absorbed in some album or illustrated work; or, if you find one unlucky acquaintance in the room, to fasten upon him like a drowning man clinging to a spar, are gaucheries which no shyness can excuse. An easy and unembarrassed manner, and the self-possession requisite to open a conversation with those who happen to be near you, are the indispen- sable credentials of a well-bred man. At an evening party, do not remain too long in one spot. To be afraid to move from one drawing-room to another is the sure sign of a neophyte in society. If you have occasion to use your handkerchief, do so as noiselessly as possible. To blow j'our nose as if it were a trombone, or to turn your head aside when using your handkerchief, are vulgarities scrupulously to be avoided. ^ Never stand upon the hearth with your back to the fire or stove, either in a friend's house or your own. Never offer anyone the chair from which you have just risen, unless there is no other disengaged. If, when supper is announced, no lady has been specially placed under your care by the hostess, offer your arm to whichever lady you may have last conversed with. If you possess any musical accomplishments, do not wait to be pressed and entreated by your hostess, but comply immediately when she pays you the compliment of inviting you to play or sing. Remember, however, that only the lady of the house has the right to ask you. If others do so, you can put them off in some polite way ; but must not comply till the hostess herself invites you. If you sing comic songs, be careful that they are of the most unexcep- tionable kind, and likely to offend neither the tastes nor prejudices of the society in which you find yourself. MORNING AND EVEITING PARTIES. 267 If the party be of a small and social kind, and those games called by the French les jeux innocents are proposed, do not object to join in them when invited. It may be that they demand some slight exercise of wit and readipess, and that you do not feel yourself calculated to shine in them ; but it is better to seem dull than disagreeable, and those who are obliging can always find some clever neighbour to assist them in the moment of need. The game of " consequences '* is one which unfortunately gives too much scope to liberty of expression. If you join in this game, we cannot too earnestly enjoin you never to write down one word which the most pure-minded woman present might not read aloud without a blush. Jests of an equivocal character are not only vulgar, but con- temptible. Impromptu charades are frequently organized at friendly parties. Unless you have really some talent for acting and some readiness of speech, you should remember that you only put others out and expose your own inability by taking part in these entertainments. Of course, if 3'our help is really needed and you would disoblige by refusing, you must do your best, and by doing it as quietly and coolly as possible, avoid being awk- ward or ridiculous. Should an impromptu polka or quadrille be got up after supper at a party where no dancing was intended, be sure not to omit putting on gloves before you stand up. It is well always to have a pair of white gloves in your pocket in case of need ; but even black are better under these circumstances than none. Even though you may take no pleasure in cards, some knowledge of the etiquette and rules belonging to the games most in vogue is necessary ta you in society. Never let even politeness induce you to play for high stakes. Etiquette is the minor morality of life ; but it never should be allowed to outweigh the higher code of right and wrong. Be scrupulous to observe silence when any of the company are playing- or singing. Remember that they are doing this for the amusement of the' rest ; and that to talk at such a time is as ill-bred as if you were to turn your back upon a person who was talking to you, and begin a conversa- tion with someone else. If you are yourself the performer, bear in mind that in music, an in speech, " brevity is the soul of wit." Two verses of a song, or four pagea of a piece, are at all times enough to give pleasure. If your audience desire more they will aak for it ; and it is infinitely more flattering to be encored than to receive the thanks of your hearers, not so much in grati- *\W^f'!/l>Wf!i''j:}-^^W''^'^>-^*'*''-'*.''''\''^f-i»^^ 268 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. tude for what you have given them, but in relief that you have left off. You should try to suit your music, like your conversation, to your com- pany. A solo of Beethoven's would be as " much out of place in some circles as a comic song at a Quaker's meeting. To those who only care for the light popularities of the season, give Verdi. To connoisseurs, if you perform well enough to venture, give such music as will be likely to meet the exigencies of a fine taste. Above all, attempt nothing that you <»nnot execute with ease and precision. In retiring from a crowded party it is unnecessary that you should seek •out the hostess for the purpose of bidding her a formal good-night. By •doing this you would, perhaps, remind others that it was getting late, and cause the party to break up. If you meet the lady of the house on your way to the drawing-room door, take your leave of her as unobstrusively as possible, and slip away without attracting the attention of her other guests. THE DINNER TABLE. To be acquainted with every detail of the etiquette pertaining to this subject is of the highest importance to every gentleman. Ease, savoir /aire, and good-breeding are nowhere more indispensable than at the din- ner-table, and the absence of them is nowhere more apparent. An invitation to dine should be replied to immediately, and unequivo- cally accepted or declined. Once accepted, nothing but an event of the last importance should cause you to fail in your engagement. To be exactly punctual is the strictest politeness on these occasions. If you are too early, you are in the way ; if too late, you spoil the dinner, ■annoy the hostess, and are hated by the rest of the guests. Some auth- orities are even of opinion that in the question of a dinner party, " never " is better than " late " ; and one author has gone so far as to say, " if you and to make no sound in doing so. If the servants do not go round with wine the gentlemen should help the ladies and themselves to sherry or sauterne immediately after the soup. You should never ask for a second supply of either soup or fish ; it delays the next course and keeps the table waiting. Never offer to " assist " your neighbours to this or that dish. The word is inexpressibly vulgar — all the more vulgar for its affectation of elegance. ?fl^? ' ■' ( ■ '■»^'^; jT -"^ ■,»' Tjj.';"*- 270 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS OYCLOPiEDIA. *' Shall I send you some multon ? " or " may I help you to canvas-back ? " is better chosen and better bred. If you are asked to take wine, it is polite to select the same as that which your interlocutor is drinking. If you invite a lady to take wine, you should ask her which she will prefer, and then take the same your- self. Should you, however, for any reason prefer some other vintage, you <;an take it by courteously requesting her permission. As soon as you are helped, begin to eat ; or, if the viands are too hot for your palate, take up your knife and fork and appear to begin. To wait for others is now not only old-fashioned, but ill-bred. Never offer to pass on the plate to which you have been helped. In helping soup, fish, or any other dish, remember that to overfill a plate is as bad as to supply it too scantily. Silver fish-knives will now always be met with at the best tables ; but where there are none, a piece of crust should be taken in the left hand, and the fork in the right. There is no exception to this rule in eating fish. We presume it is scarcely necessary to remind the reader that he is never, under any circumstances, to convey his knife to his mouth. Peas are eaten with the fork ; tarts, curry, and puddings of all kinds with the spoon. Always help fish with a fish-slice, and tart and puddings with a spoon, or, if necessary, a spoon and fork. Asparagus must be helped with the asparagus-tongs. In eating asparagus, it is well to observe what others do, and act accord- ingly. Some very well-bred people eat it with the fingei-s ; others cut off the heads, and convey them to the mouth upon the fork. It would be difficult to say which is the more correct. In eating stone fruit, such as cherries, damsons, etc., the same rule had better be observed. Some put the stones out from the mouth into a spoon, and so convoy them to the plate. Others cover the lips with the hand, drop them unseen into the palm, and so deposit them on the side of the plate. In our own opinion, the latter is the better ^ay, as it effectually conceals the return of the stones, which is certainly tho point of highest importance. Of one thing we may be sure, and that is, that they must never be dropped from the mouth to the plate. In helping sauce, always pour it on the side of the plate. If the servants do not go round with the wine (which is by far the best custom), the gentlemen at a dinner table should take upon themselves the office of helping those ladies who sit near them. Ladies tdke more wine MP i^mmm mm ■?"ij"'y mm "^ THE DINNER TABLE. 271 in the present day than they did fifty years ago, and gentlemen should remember this, and offer it frequently. Ladies cannot very well ask for wine, but they can always decline it. At all events they do not like to be neglected, or to see gentlemen liberally helping themselves, without ob- serving whether their fair neighbour's glasses are full or empty. The habit of taking wine with each other has almost wholly gone out of fashion. A gentleman may ask the lady whom he conducted down to dinner, or he may ask the lady of the house to take wine with him. But even these last remnants of the old custom are fast falling into disuse. Unless you are a total abstainer, it is extremely uncivil to decline tak- ing wine if you are invited to do so. In accepting, you have only to pour a little fresh wine into your glass, look at the person who invited you, bow slightly, and take a sip from the glass. It is particularly ill-bred to empty your glass on these occasions. Certain wines are taken with certain dishes, by old-established cus- tom — as sherry or sauterne, with soup and fish ; hock and claret, with roast meat ; punch with turtle ; champagne with sweet-bread and cut- lets ; port with venison ; port or burgundy, with game ; sparkling wines between the roast and the confectionery ; madeira with sweets ; port with cheese ; and for dessert, port, tokay, madeira, shen*y and claret. Red wines should never be iced, even in summer. Claret and burgundy should always be slightly warmed ; claret-cup and champagne cup should, of course, be iced. Instead of cooling their wines in the ice pail, some hosts introduce clear ice upon the table, broken up in small lumps, to be put inside the glasses. This cannot be too strongly reprehended. Melting ice can but weaken the quality and flavour of the wine. Those who desire to drink wine and water, can ask for iced water if they choose, but it savours too much of economy on the part of the host to insinuate the ice inside the glasses of his guests when the wine could be more effectually iced outside the bottle. A silver knife and fork should be placed to each guest at dessert. If you are asked to prepare fruit for a lady, be careful to do so by means of the silver knife and fork only, and never to touch it with your fingers. It is wise never to partake of any dish without knowing of what in- gredients it is composed. You can always ask the servant who bauds it to you, and you thereby avoid all danger of having to commit the impolite- ness of leaving it, and showing that you do not approve of it. Never speak while you have anything in 3 our mouth. Be careful never to taste soups or puddings till you are sure they are sufficiently cool ; as, byMisregarding this caution, yoii may be compelled ■s,§ eaa'i'T', ■:immw" . jp *f 7^^T'■*^^?'^ "^r pnjTfw— ' ili'MJ".'! ■' !W|«'I1I ! H p , I l|l,^U|»^F-^^^^ 272 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP^'EDIA. to swallow what is dangerously hot, or be driven to the unpardonable al- ternative of returning it to your plate. When eating or drinking, avoid every kind of audible testimony to the fact. Finger-glasses, containing water slightly warmed and perfumed, are placed to each person at dessert. In these you may dip the tips of your fingers, wiping them afterwards on your table-napkin. If the finger-glass and doyley are placed on your dessert-plate, you should immediately re- tiiove the doyley to the left of your plate, and place the finger-glass upon it. By these means you leave the right for the wine-glasses. Be careful to know the shapes of the various kinds of wine-glasses com- monly in use, in order that you may never put forward one for another. High and narrow, and very broad and shallow glasses, are used for cham- pagne ; large, goblet-shaped glasses for burgundy and claret ; ordinary wine-glasses for sherry and madeira ; green glasses for hock ; and some- what large, bell-shaped glasses for port. Port, sherry, and madeira are decanted. Hock and champagnes appear in their native bottles. Claret and burgundy are handed around in a claret jug. Coffee and liqueurs should be handed round when the dessert has been about a quarter of an hour on the table. After this, the ladies generally retire. Should no servant be present to do so, the gentleman who is nearest the door should hold it for the ladies to pass through. When the ladies are leaving the dining-room, the gentlemen all rise in their places, and do not resume their seats till the last lady is gone. If you should unfortunately overturn or break anything, do not apolo- gize for it. You can show your regret in your face, but it is not well-bred to put it into words. Should you injure a lady's dress, apologize amply, and assist her, if pos- sible, to remove all traces of the damage. To abstain from taking the last piece on the dish, or the last glass of wine in the decanter, only because it is the last, is highly ill-bred. It im- plies a fear that the vacancy cannot be supplied, and almost conveys an affront to your host. In summing up the little duties and laws of the table ^i popular author has said that — "The chief matter of consideration at the dinner- table — as, indeed, everywhere else in the life of a gentleman — is to be perfectly com- posed and at his ease. He speaks deliberately ; he performs the most im- portant act of the day as if he were performing the most ordinary. Yet fp PAETY AND BALL-ROOM ETIQUETTE. 273 there is no appearance of trifling or want of gravity in his manner, he maintains the dignity which is so becoming on so vital an occasion. He performs all the ceremonies, yet in the style of one who performs no cere- monies at all. He goes through all the complicated duties of the scene as if he were ' to the manner bom.' " To the giver of a dinner we have but one or two remarks to offer. If he be a bachelor, he had better give his dinner at a good hotel. If a mar- ried man, he will, we presume, enter into council with his wife and his <;ook. In any case, however, he should always bear in mind that it is his duty to entertain his friends in the best manner that his means permit ; and that this is the least he can do to recompense them for the expendi- ture of time and money which they incur in accepting his invitation. In conclusion, we may observe that to sit long in the dining-room after the ladies have retired is to pay a bad compliment to the hostess and her fair visitors ; and that it is still worse to rejoin them with a flushed face and impaired powers of thought. A refined gentleman is always tem- perate. ^artg mxb ^all-Jlcom €tiqxi^tt€. -¥~f*'4- HOW TO ORGANIZE A DANCING PAETY OR BALL. S the number of guests at a dinner-party is regulated by the size of the table, so should the number of invitations to a ball be limited by the proportions of the dancing or ball-room. A prudent hostess will always invite a few more guests than she really desires to entertain, in the certainty that there will be some deserters when the ap- pointed evening comes round ; but she will at the same time remember that to overcrowd her room is to spoil the pleasure of those who love dancing, and that a party of this kind when too numerously attended is as great a failure as one at which too few are present. A room which is nearly square, yet a little longer than it is broad, will he found the most favourable for a ball. It admits of two quadrille par- R WiW^mm!xrrWwjip^f^rflj!^^ S74 THE HOME. FABM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. ties, or two round dances, at the same time. In a perfectly square room this arrangement is not so practicable or pleasant. A very long and nar- row room, and their number in this country is legion, is obviously of the worst shape for the purpose of dancing, and is fit only for quadrilles and country dances. The top of the ball-room is the part nearest the musicians. In a private room, the top is where it would bo if the room were a dining-room. It is generally at the farthest point from the door. Dancers should be careful to ascertain the top of the room before taking their places, as the top couples always lead the dances. A good floor is of the first importance in a ball-room. In a private house, nothing can be better than a smooth, well-stretched holland, with the carpet beneath. Abundance of light and free ventilation are indispensable to the spirits and comfort of the dancers. Qood music is as necessary to the prosperity of a ball as good wine to the excellence of a dinner. No hostess should tax her friends for this part of the entertainment. It is the most injurious economy imaginable. La- dies who would prefer to dance are tied to the pianoforte ; and as few amateurs have been trained in the art of playing dance music, with that strict attention to time and accent which is absolv tely necessary to the comfort of the dancers, a total and general discontent is sure to be the re> suit. To play dance music thoroughly well is a branch of the art which requires considerable practice. It is as different from every other kind of playing as whale fishing is from fly fishing. Those who give private balls will do well ever to bear this in mind, and to provide skilled musicians for the evening. For a small party, a piano and cornopean make a very plea- sant combination. Unless where several instruments are engaged we do not recommend the introduction of the violin ; although in some respects the finest of all solo instruments, it is apt to sound thin and shrill when employed on mere inexpressive dance tunes, and played by a mere dance player. Invitations to a ball or dance should be issued in the name of the lady of the house, and written on small note-paper of the best quality. Elegant printed forms, some of them printed in gold or silver, are to be had at every stationer's by those who prefer them. The paper may be gilt-edged, but not coloured. An invitation to a ball should be sent out at least ten days before the evening appointed, A fortnight, three weeks, and even a month may be allowed in the way of notice. HOW TO ORGANIZE A DANCING PARTY OR BALL. 275 Not more than two or three days should be permitted to elapse before you reply to an invitation of this kind. The reply should always be ad- dressed to the lady of the house, and should be couched in the same per* son as the invitation. The following are the forms generally in use : — Mrs. Molyneux reqaesta the honour of Oaptain Hamilton's company at an eyening party, on Monday, March the 11th instant. Dancing u'iU begin at Nine o'clock. Thursday, March Ist. • Oaptain Hamilton has much pleasure in accepting Mrs. Molyneux's polite invitation for Monday evening, March the 11th instant. Friday, March 2nd. The old form of " presenting compliments " is now out of fashion. If Mrs. Molyneux writes to Captain Hamilton in the first person, as " My dear Sir," he is bound in etiquette to reply " My dear Madam." The lady who gives a ball* should endeavour to secure an equal num- ber of dancers of both sexes. Many private parties are spoiled by the preponderance of young ladies, some of whom never get partners at all, unless they dance with each other. A room should in all cases be provided for the accommodation of the ladies. In this room there ought to be several looking-glasses ; attendants to assist the fair visitors in the arrangement of their hair and dress ; and some place in which the cloaks and shawls can be laid in order, and found at a moment's notice. It is well to affix tickets to the cloaks, giving a duplicate at the same time to each lady, as at the public theatres and con- cert rooms. Needles and thread should also be at hand, to repair any little accident incurred in dancing. Another room should be devoted to refreshments, and kept amply sup- plied with coflTee, lemonade, ices, wine, and biscuits during the evening. Where this cannot be arranged, the refreshments should be handed round between the dances. The question of supper is one which so entirely depends on the means of those who give a ball or evening party, that very little can be said upon it in a treatise of this description. Where money is no object, it is of course always preferable to have the whole supper, "with all appliances and means to boot," sent in from some first-rate house. It spares all trou- ble whether to the entertainers or their servants, and relieves the hostess * It will be understood that we use the word d«noing, as well as a public balL ' ball" to signify a private party where there is !'.»' *'''!I?^''P^!^W™'^^' '.'"•'''•■' " ilil'i^WilfWPPf^^pPlfPiW^wpiippppPiflll" 276 THE HOME, FABM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. IS of every anxiety. Where circumstances render such a course imprudent, we would only observe that a home-provided supper, however simple, should be good of its kind, and abundant in quantity. Dancers are gene- rally hungry people, and feel themselves much aggrieved if the supply of sandwiches proves unequal to the demand. BALL-ROOM TIOLETTE. LADIES. « The style of a lady's dress is a matter so entirely dependent on age, means, and fashion, that we can offer but little advice upon it. F«shion ia so variable, that statements which are true of it to-day may be f alsf^ a month hence. Respecting no institution of modem society is it so difficult to pronounce half-a-dozen permanent rules. We may perhaps be permitted to suggest the following leading princi- ples ; but we do so with diffidence. Rich colours harmonize with rich brunette complexions and dark hair. Delicate colours are the most suitable for delicate and fragile styles of beauty. Very young ladies are never so suitably attired as in white. Ladies who dance should wear dresses of light and diaphanous materials, such as tulle gauze, crape, net, etc., over coloured silk slips. Silk dresses are not suitable for dancing. A married lady who dances only a few quadrilles may wear a decollet^e silk dress with propriety. Vpry stout persons should never wear white. It has the effect of adding to the bulk of the figure. Black and scarlet or black and violet, are worn in mourning. A lady in deep mourning should not dance at all. However fashionable it may be to wear very long dresses, those ladies who go to a ball with the intention of dancing and enjoying the dance, should cause their dresses to be made short enough to clear the ground. We would ask them whether it is not better to accept this slight deviation from an absurd fashion, than to appear for three parts of the evening in a torn and piimed-up skirt. Well-made shoes, whatever their colour or material, and faultless gloves, are indispensable to the effect of a ball-room toilette. ^ Much jewellery is out of place in a ball-room. Beautiful flowers, whe- ther natural or artificial, are the loveliest ornaments that a lady can wear on these occasions. ETIQUETTE OP THE BALL-ROOM. 277 GENTLEMEN. A black suit, thin enameled boots, a white neckcloth, and white or deli- cate gray gloves, are the chief points of a gentleman's ball-room toilette. He may wear a plain-bosomed shirt with one stud. White waistcoats are now fashionable. Much display of jewellery is no proof of good taste. A handsome watch-chain with, perhaps, the addition of a few costly trifles suspended to it, and a single shirt-stud, are the only adornments of this* kind that gentleman should wear. A gentleman's dress is necessarily so simple that it admits of no compro- mise in point of quality and style. The material should be the best that money can procure, and the fashion unexceptionable. So much on the out- ward man depends on his tailor, that we would urge no gentleman to economize in this matter. ETIQUETTE OF THE BALL-ROOM. On entering the ball-room, the visitor should at once seek the lady of the house, and pay his respects to her. Having done this, he may exchange salutations with such friends and acquaintances as may be in the room. If the ball be a public one, and a gentleman desires to dance with any lady to whom he is a stranger, he must apply to a member of the floor committee for an introduction. Even in private balls, no gentleman can invite a lady to dance without a previous introduction. This introduction should be effected through the lady of the house or a member of her family. No lady should accept an invitation to dance from a gentleman to whom she has not been introduced. In case any gentleman should commit the error of so inviting her, she should not excuse herself on the plea of a pre- vious engagement or of fatigue, as to do so would imply that she did not herself attach due importance to the necessary ceremony of introduction. Her best reply would be to the effect that she would have much pleasure in accepting his invitation if he would procure an introduction to her. This observation may be taken as applying only to public balls. At a private party the host and hostess are sufficient guarantees for the respect- ability of their guests; and although a gentleman would show a singular want of knowledge of the laws of society in acting as we have supposed, the lady who should reply to him as if he were merely an impertinent stranger in a public assembly-room, would be implying an affront to her entertainers. The mere fact of being assembled together under the roof of ;FW*T:^«'T,-T^IWTir - ■TPT^ 278 THE HOME. FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. a mutual friend, is in itself, a kind of general introduction of the guests to each other. An introduction given for the mere purpose of enabling a lady and gen- tleman to go through a dance together, does not constitute an acquaint- anceship. The lady is at liberty, should she feel like doing so, to pass the gentleman the next day without recognition. To attempt to dance without a knowledge of dancing is not only to make one's self ridiculous, but one's partner also. No lady or gentleman has a right to place a partner in this absurd position. Never forget a ball-room engagement. To do so is to commit an unpar- donable offence against good breeding. It is not necessary that a lady or gentleman should be acquainted with the steps in order to walk gracefully and easily through a quadrille. An easy carriage and a knowledge of the figure is all that is requisite. A round dance, however, should on no account be attempted withoutha thorough knowledge of the steps and some previous practice. No person who has not a good ear for time and tune need hope to dance well. At the conclusion of a dance the gentleman bows to his partner, and either promenades with her round the room or takes her to a seat. Where a room is set apart for refreshments, he offers to conduct her thither. At a public ball no gentleman would, of course, permit a lady to pay for refreshments. Good taste forbids that a lady and gentleman should dance too frequently together, at either a public or private ball. Engaged per- sons should be careful not to commit this conspicuous solecism. If a lady happens to forget a previous engagement, and stands up with another partner, the gentleman whom she has thus slighted is bound to believe that she has acted from mere inadvertence, and should by no means suffer his pride to master his good temper. To cause a disagreeable scene in a private ball-room is to affront your host and hostess, and to make yourself absurd. In a public room it is no less reprehensive. Always remember that good breeding and good temper (or the appear- ance of good temper) are inseparably connected. Young gentlemen aie earnestly advised not to limit their conversation to remarks on the weather and the heat of the room. It is to a certain extent incumbent on them to do something more than dance when they invite a lady to join a quadrille. If it be only upon the news of the day, a gentleman should be able to afford at least three or four observations to his partner in the course of a long half hour. ■pp wmm wmmimmmm THE QUADRILLE. 27» Gentlemen who dance cannot be too careful not to injure the drosses of the ladies who do them the honour to stand up with them. The young men of the present day are singularly careless in this respect, and when they have torn a lady's delicate skirt, appear to think the mischief they have done scarcely worth the trouble of an apology. A gentleman conducts his last partner to the supper-room, and having waited upon her while there, re-conducts her to the ball-room. Never attempt to take a place in a dance which has been previously engaged. A thoughtful hostess will never introduce a bad dancer to a good one, because she has no right to punish one friend in order to oblige another. It is not customary for married persons to dance together in society. TEfi QUADEEiLE. The Quadrille is the most universal, as it is certainly the most sociable of all fashionable dances. It admits of pleasant conversation, frequent interchange of partners, and is adapted to every age, the young or old ; the ponderous paterfamilias or his sylph-like daughter, may with equal pro- priety take part in its easy and elegant figures. Even an occasional blunder is of less consequence in this dance than in many others, for each personage is in some degree free as to his own movements, not being com- pelled by the continual embrace of his partner to dance either better or worse than he may find convenient. People now generally walk through a quadrille. Nothing more than a perfect knowledge of the figure, a graceful demeanour, and a correct ear for the time of the music are requisite to enable any one to take a credit- able part in this dance. As soon as a gentleman has engaged his partner for the quadrille, he should endeavour to secure as his via-d^-via some friend or acquaintance, and should then lead his partner to the top of the quadrille, provided that post of honour be still vacant. He will pl^ce the lady always at his right hand. Quadrille music is divided into eight bars, for each part of the figure ; two steps should be taken in every bar; every movement thus invariably consists of eight or four steps. It is well not to learn too many new figures ; the memory is liable to become confused among them ; besides which, it is doubtful whether your partner, or your via-d-via, is as learned in the matter as yourself. Masters are extremely fond of inventing and teaching new figures ; but you will 280 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. ■^ do well to confine your attention to a few simple and universally received sets, which you will find quite sufficient for your purpose. We begin with the oldest and most common, the FIEST SET OF QUADRILLES. FIRST FIGURE. — LE PANTALON. The couples at the top and bottom of the quadrille cross to each other's places in eight steps, occupying four bars of the time ; re-cross immediately to their own places, which completes the movement of eight bars. This is called the Chaine Anglaise. The gentleman always keeps to the right of vis-d-via's lady in crossing, thus placing her inside. Set to partners, or balancez; turn your partner. (This occupies the se- cond eight bars.) Ladies' chain, or chaine den daniea. (Eight bars more.) Each couple crosses to opposite couple's place, gentleman giving his hand to his partner ; this is called half-promenade. Couples re-cross right and left to their places, without giving hands, which completes another eight bars and ends the figure. The side couples repeat what the top and bottom couples have done. SECOND FIGURE. — LE'tE. The ladies in all the top couples, and their vis-li-vla gentlemen, ad- vance four steps, and retire the same, repeating this movement once again, which makes the first eight bars. Top ladies and vla-a-vis gentlemen cross to each other's places; ad- vance four steps ; retreat ditto ; cross back towards partners, who set to them as they advance ; turn partners, which ends the first half of figure. Second ladies and top vis-a-^;i8 gentlemen execute the same movements. The side couples begin, the privilege of commencement being conferred on those ladies who stand at the right of the top couples. This figure is sometimes performed in a diSerent mannei known as double LEU. Instead of the top lady and vis-a-vw gentlemen advancing alone, they advance with partners, joining hands ; cross and return, as in the single figure. This variation is, however, somewhat out of vogue, except (as will presently be seen) in the last figure of the quadrille, where it is still frequently introduced. THIRD FIGURE. — LA POULE. Top lady and via-a-vis gentleman cross to each'other's places, giving right hand in passing; cross back again with left hand (eight bars). The tiown a& ai s. ^>:%\1 \ R«;i!ii^ ^r'-'i i^ .--/^•^ QHSH ^^^^^^HHrll-'-HHnPl ^^^^^^^ Hl^^^^^^^H ^^^^^BSiiJm2^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^1 H THB TBTB A TETE. TIRST SET OF QUADRILLES. 281 two couples form in a line, and join hands, the left hand of the one hold- ing the right hand of his or her neighbour, so that each faces different ways ; in this position all four balancez, then half promenade with partner to opposite place : top lady and vla-a-vla gentleman advance four steps and retire ditto. (2nd eight bars.) Both top and bottom couples advance together, and retire the same ; then re- cross right and left to places. (3rd eight bars.) Second lady and first opposing gentleman repeat figure. Side couples repeat, observing same rule for commencement as in L'Eti. FOURTH FIGURE. — LA TRENISE. Top couples join hands, advance four steps and retreat ditto; advance again, gentleman leaving lady at left hand of vis-a-vis gentleman and re- tiring alone. (1st eight bars.) Two ladies advance, crossing to opposite side ; gentleman advances to meet his partner, vis-a-vis lady returns to hers. (2nd eight bars). Balancez ; turns partners to places. ( 3rd eight bars.) Second couple performs same figure ; side couples repeat as before If La Pastorale be preferred, it will be performed thus : — Top couple.** advance and retreat ; advance, gentleman leading lady to left hand of vis-a-vis gentleman ; he advances with both ladies four steps, retreating ditto; again advancing he leaves both ladies with first gentleman, retreat- ing alone ; top gentleman and both ladies advance and retreat ; again ad- vance, joining hands in circle, go half round, half promenade to opposite places, then return right and left to their own. Second couples and side couples repeat as before. FIFTH FIGURE. — LA FINALE. ^. Begin with the grand rond or great round ; that is, the whole quad* fille ; first and second couples and sides join hands all around, advance four steps, and retreat ditto. L'Et^ is now sometimes introduced, the grand rond being repeated between each division of the figure. But it gives a greater variety and brio to the quadrille if, after the first granA rond, the following figure is performed, the galop step being used through- out. Each gentleman (at top and bottom couples) takes his lady round the waist, as for the galop; advance four s'^eps, retreat ditto, advance again, cross to opposite places ; advance, retreat, re-cross to own places. Ladies' chain; half promenade across ; half right and left to places ; grand rond. Side couples repeat figure. Grand rond between each division and at the conclusion. Bow to your partners, and conduct your lady to Beat. i;}'.^-iri::"p>jnp>'.v;_itr-"ir" 282 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiEDIA. THE LAirOEES. The Lancers Quadrille is perhaps the most graceful and animated of any. Within the last few years it has become a great favourite in fash- ionable circles. It admits of much skill and elegance in executing its quick and varied figures, a correct acquaintance with which is absolutely requisite to all who take part in it. Unlike the common quadrille, the Lancers must be danced by four couples only in each set ; though of course there can be many sets dancing at the same time. The number being so limited, one awkward or ignorant person confuses the whole set ; there- fore, it is indispensable that every one who dances in this quadrille should have a thorough mastery of its graceful intricacies. We have observed that of late it has become the fashion to substitute new tunes and new figures for the old well-known music of the Lancers Quadrille. We cannot consider this an improvement. The old simple melodies are peculiarly fitted to the sprightly, joyous character of the dance ; which is more than can be said for any of the modern substitutes. When these are used, the Lancers, in our opinion, loses its individuality and spirit, becoming almost like a common quadrille. We should be heartily glad to see the old tunes restored, once for all, to their rightful supremacy. The sets of four couples, top, opposite, and sides, having been arranged, the dance begins as follows : — 1st Figure. — First lady and opposite gentleman advance and retreat ; advance again, joining their hands ; pass round each other and back to places. (1st eight bars.) Top couple join hands, and cross, opposite couple crossing at the same time, separately, outside them ; the same re- versed, back to places. (2nd eight bars.) All the couples hcdancez to comers ; each gentleman turns his neighbour's partner back to places. (3rd eight bars.) Second couple repeat figure from beginning ; after them side couples, those who stand to the right of top couple having always the priority, as in the common quadrille. 2nd Figure. — First couple advance and retreat, gentleman holding lady's left hand; advance again; gentleman leaves his partner in the centre of the quadrille, and retires to place. (1st eight bars.) Balancez to each other and turn to places. (2nd eight bars). Side couples join first and second couples, forming a line of four on either side. Each line advances four steps, retreats ditto ; then advances again, each gentleman reclaiming his partner, and all turn to places. Second and side couples repeat figure in succession. ■^ffPPPHP mmmmmm THE LANCERS. 283 Sri Figure. — First lady advances four steps alone, and stops ; via-a-via gentleman does the same ; first lady retires, facing gentleman, to whom she makes a slow profound courtesy. (The courtesy must occupy a bar or two of the music ; and as, if made with grace and dignity, it is most ef- fective, we would recommend ladies to practise it carefully beforehand.) The gentleman at the same time bows and retires (1st eight bars). All four ladies advance to centre, give right hands across to each other (which is called the double chain), and left hand to via-a-via gentleman ; then back again, left hand across in the middle, and right hands to partners back to places. (2nd eight bars.) Second and side couples repeat figure from commencement. A more recent fashion for dancing this figure is as follows : Instead of one lady advancing at first, all four advance, and courtesy to each other ; then turn and courtesy to their partners. Ladies do the moulinet in the centre ; that is, give right hands across to each other, and half round ; left hands acrdss back again and return to places. Gentlemen meantime all move round outside the ladies, till each has regained his place. Figure as usual repeated four times ; but the second and fourth time the gentle- men advance instead of the ladies, and bow, first to each other, then to their partners ; continuing as before through the rest of the figure. 4fth Figure. — Top gentleman, taking partner's left hand, leads her to the couple on their right, to whom they bow and courtesy (which civility must be met with the like acknowledgment), then cross quickly to fourth couple, and do the same. (1st eight bars.) All four couples ckasaez croiaez right and left (gentlemen invariably passing behind his partner), then turn hands (tour des mains) back to places. (2nd eight bars.) First and' opposite couples right and left across and back again to place (3rd eight bars.) Second and sides repeat as usual. 5th Figure. — This figure commences with the music. Each couple should stand ready, the gentleman facing his partner, his right hand hold- ing hers. If every one does not start directly the music begins, and does not observe strict time throughout, the somewhat intricate figure becomes hopelessly embarrassed ; but, when well danced, it is the prettiest of the 6et. It commences with the grande chaine all round ; each gentleman giving his right hand to his partner at starting, his left to the next lady, then his right again, and so all round, till all have returned to their places. (This occupies sixteen bars of the music.) First couple promenade inside figure, returning to places with their backs turned to opposite couple. The side couple on their right falls in immediately behind them ; the fourth couple follows, the second couple remaining in their places. A double line i T"!- jiiiiii I imnpiii^^JMi , ijjjfiijiji jiini .Jill 284 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. 1^^ is thus formed — ladies on one side and gentlemen on the other. (3rd eight barsj All ckaaaez croisez, ladies left, gentlemen right, behind partners. First lady leads off, turning sharply round to the right ; first gentleman does the same to the left, meeting at the bottom of the quadrille, and pro- menade back to places. All the ladies follow first lady ; all the gentlemen follow first gentleman; and as each meets his partner at the bottom of the figure, they touch hands, then fall back in two lines — ladies on one side, gentlemen on the other — facing each other. (4th eight bars.) Four ladies join hands, advance, and retreat ; four gentlemen ditto at the same time ; then each turns his partner to places. (5th eight bars.) Grande chaine again. Second and side couples repeat the whole figure in succession, each couple taking its turn to lead off, as the first had done. Grande chaine between each figure and in conclusion. THE LANOEES FOR SIXTEEN, OR DOUBLE LANCERS. 1st Figure. — Two first ladies and vis-a-vis gentlemen begin at the same moment, and go through the figure as in Single Lancers. All halancez to cornei-s ; in other words, each lady sets to gentleman at her right, who turns her to her place. Second couples and sides repeat as usual. 2ncZ Figure. — First couples advance, retreat, advance again, leaving ladies in centre ; set to partners and turn to places. Two side couples nearest first couples join them; two side couples nearest second couples do the same, thus forming eight in each line. They all advance and re- treat, holding hands, then turn partners to places. Repeated by second and side couples as usual. Zrd Figure. — First ladies advance and stop ; vis-a-vis gentlemen ditto ; courtesy profoundly, bow, and back to places. Ladies do the moulinet, gentlemen go round outside, and back to places. Or, ladies advance and courtesy to each other and. then to partners ; gentlemen doing the same when the second and fourth couples begin the figure, as in Single Lancers. Mh Figure. — First couples advance to couples on their right ; bow and courtesy ; cross to opposite side, bow and courtesy, chassez croisez, and re- turn to place. Right and left to opposite place, and back again. Second couples and sides repeat figure. 5th Figure. — Grande chaine all round, pausing at the end of every eight bars to bow and courtesy ; continue chaine back to places, which will occupy altogether thirty-two bars of the music. Figure almost the same as in Single Lancers. Both first couples lead around, side couples falling in behind, thus forming four sets of lines. Figure repeated by second i^ff DOUBLE QUADRILLE. 285 and side couples; grande chaine between each figure and at the con- clusion. DOUBLE QUADRILLE. This quadrille contains the same figures as the common quadrille, but 80 arranged that they are danced by four instead of two couples. All quad- rille music suits it ; and it occupies just half the time of the old quadrille. It makes an agreeable variety in the movements of the dance, and is easily learned. It requires four couples. FIRST FIGURE, — PANTALON. First and second couples right and left, whilst side couples dance the chaine Anglaise outside them. All four couples set to partners and turn them. Four ladies form ladies' chain, or hands across in the middle of the figure, giving first right hands, and then left, back to places. Half promenade, first and second couples do chaine Anglaise, while side cou- ples do grande chaine round them. This leaves all in their right places, and ends figure. SECOND FIGURE.— L'ETB. First lady, and lady on her right hand, perform the figure with their vis-d-via gentlemen, as in common VEU; taking care, when they cross, to make a semi-circle to the left. Second couple and second side couple repeat figure, as in common L'Et4. THIRD FIGURE. — LA POULE. Top lady and via-d-vis gentleman, lady at her right and her opposite gentleman, perform figure at the same time, setting to each other in two cross lines. Other couples follow as usual. FOURTH FIGURE. — LA PASTORALE. The fiisfc and opposite couples dance the figure, not with each other, but with the couples to their right. The latter do the same with ixrst and second couples. FIFTH FIGURE. — FINALE. Galopade all round. Top and opposite galopade forwards, and retreat. As they retreat side couples advance ; and as they retreat in their turn, first and second couples galopade to each others places. Side couples the same. First and second couples advance again ; side couples the same as the others retreat ; first and second back to places as side couples retreat. ■ J>*jiS W'W.iff.'l^ M m^ CONDUCT OF A GENTLEMAN WHEN ADDRESSES REJECTED. 801 relatives as presumptuous and intrusive. Under such circumstances, the letter may be placed by the lady in the hands of her parents or guardian, to be dealt with by them as they may deem most advisable. No woman of proper feeling would regard her rejection of an offer of marriage from a worthy man as a matter of triumph ; her feeling on such an occasion should be one of regretful sympathy with him for the pain she is unavoidably compelled to inflict. Nor should such a rejection be unaccompanied with some degree of self-examination on her part, to discern whether any lightness of demeanour or tendency to flirtation may have given rise to a false hope of her favouring his suit. At all events, no lady should ever treat the man who has so honoured her with the slightest disrespect or frivolous disregard, n'^r ever unfeelingly parade a more favoured suitor before one whom she has refused. Conduct of a Gentleman when his Addresses are Bejeoted. The conduct of the gentleman under such distressing circumstances should be characterized by extreme delicacy and a chivalrous resolve to avoid occasioning any possible annoyance or uneasiness to the fair author of his pain. If, however, he should have reason to suppose that his rejec- tion has resulted from mere indifference to his suit, he need not altogether retire from the field, but may endeavour to kindle a feeling of regard and sympathy for the pateint endurance of his disappointment, and for his continued but respectful endeavours to please the lukewarm fair one. But in case of avowed or evident preference for another, it becomes im- perative upon him, as a gentleman, to withdraw at once, and so relieve the lady of any obstacle, that his presence or pretensions may occasion, to the furtherance of her obvious wishes. A pertinacious continuance of his attentions, on the part of one who has been distinctly rejected, is an in- sult denerving of the severest reprobation. Although the weakness of her sex, which ought to be her protection, frequently prevents a woman from forcibly breaking off" an acquaintance thus annoyingly forced upon her, she rarely fails to resent such impertinence by that sharpest of woman's weapons, a keen-edged but courteous ridicule, which few men can bear up against. Beftisal by the Lady's Parents or Guardians. It may happen that both the lady and her suitor are willing, but that the parents or guardians of the former, on being referred to, deem the connection unfitting, and refuse their consent. In this state of matters. •<.t< 302 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCJjOTJEDIA. the first thing a man of sense, proper feeling, and candour should do, is to endeavour to learn the objections of the parents, to see whether they can- not be removed. If they are based upon his present insufficiency of means, a lover of a persevering spirit Inay effect much in removing appre- hension on that score, by cheerfully submitting to a reasonable time of probation, in the hope of amelioration in his worldly circumstances. Happiness delayed will be none the less precious when love has stood the test of constancy and the trial of time. Should the objection be founded on inequality of social position, the parties, if young, may wait until matured age shall ripen their judgment and place the future more at their own disposal. A clandestine marriage should be peremptorily declined. In too many cases it is a fraffd committed by an elder and more experi- enced party upon one whose ignorance of the world's ways, and whose confiding tenderness appeal to him for protection even against himself. In nearly all the instances we have known of such marriages, the result proved the step to have been ill-judged, imprudent, and highly injurious to the reputation of one party, and in the long run detrimental to the happiness of both. Conduct of the Engaged Couple. The conduct of the bridegroom-elect should be marked by a gallant and affectionate assiduity towards his lady-love — a denouement easily felt and understood, but not so easy to define. That of the lady towards him should manifest delicacy, tenderness, and confidence : while looking for his thorough devotion to herself, she should not captiously take oflence and show airs at his showing the same kind of attention to other ladies as she, in her turn, would not hesitate to receive from the other sex. In the behaviour of a gentleman towards his betrothed in public, little difference should be perceptible from his demeanour to other ladies, except in those minute attentions which none but those who love can properly understand or appreciate. In private, the slightest approach to indecorous familiarity must be avoided ; indeed it is pretty certain to be resented by every woman who deserves to be a bride. The lady's honour is now in her lover's hands, and he should never forget in his demeanour to and before her that that lady is to be his future wife. It is the privilege of the betrothed lover, as it is also his duty, to give advice to the fair one who now implicitly confides in him. Should he detect a fault, should he observe failings which he would wish removed mmm^wr^^^ CONDUCT OF THE LADY DURING HER BETROTHAL. 303 or amended, let him avail himself of this season, so favourable for the frank interchange of thought between the betrothed pair, to urge their correction. He will find a ready listener ; and any judicious counsel olfered to her by him will now be gratefully received, and remembered in after life. After marriage it may be too late ; for advice on trivial points of conduct may then not improbably be resented by the wife as an un- necessary interferenC/Q ; now, the fair and loving creature is disposed like pliant wax in his hands to mould herself to his reasonable wishes in all things. Oonduot of the Lady during her Betrothal A lady is not expected to keep aloof from society on her engagement, nor to debar herself from the customary attentions and courtesies of her male acquaintances generally; but she should, while accepting them cheerfully, maintain such a prudent reserve, as to intimate that they are viewed by her as mere acts of ordinary courtesy and friendship. In all places of public amusement — at balls, the opera, etc, — for a lady to be seen with any other cavalier than her avowed lover, in close attendance upon her, would expose her to the imputation of flirtation. She will naturally take pains at such a period to observe the taste of her lover in regard to her costume, and strive carefully to follow it, for all men desire to have their taste and wishes on such apparent trifles gratified. She should at the same time observe much delicacy in regard to dress, and be careful to avoid any unseemly display of her charms ; lovers are naturally jealous of observation under such circumstances. It is a mistake not sel- dom made by women, to suppose their suitors will be pleased by the glow- ing admiration expressed by other men for the object of their passion. Most lovers, on the contrary, we believe, would prefer to withdraw their prize from general observation until the happy moment for their imion has arrived. Gonduot of the Gentleman towards the Family of his Betrothed. The lover, having now secured his position, should use discretion and tact in his intercourse with the lady.'s family, and take care that his visits be not deemed too frequent — so as to be really inconvenient to them. He should accommodate himself as much as possible to their habits and ways, and be^ever ready and attentive to consult their wishes. Marked atten- tion, and in most cases affectionate kindness, to the lady's mother ought to be shown ; such respectable homage will secure for him many advantages 304 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. in his present position. He must not, however, presume to take his stand yet as a member of the family, nor exhibit an obtrusive familiarity in manner and conversation. Should a disruption of the engagement from some unexpected cause ensue, it is obvious that any such premature as- sumption would lead to very embarrassing results. In short, his conduct should be such as to win for himself the esteem and affection of all the family, and dispose them ever to welcome and desire his presc -ather than regard him as an intruder. Oonduct of the Lady on Retiring from her Engagement. Should this step unhappily be found necessary on the lady's part, the truth should be spoken, and the reasons frankly given ; there must be no room left for the suspicion of its having originated in caprice or injus- tice. The case should be so put that the gentleman himself must see and acknowledge the justice of the painful decision arrived at. Incompatible habits, ungentlemanly actions, anything tending to diminish that respect for the lover which should be felt for the husband ; inconstancy, ill- governed temper — all of which, not to mention other obvious objections — are to be considered as sufficient reasons for terminating an e' ''gement. The communication should be made as tenderly as possible ; : may be left in mere venial cases for reformation ; but all that is done ». .st be so managed that not the slightest shadow of fickleness or want of faith may rest upon the character of the lady. It must be remembered, however, that the termination of an engagement by a lady has the privilege of pass- ing unchallenged ; a lady not being bound to declare any other reason than her will. Nevertheless she owes it to her own reputation that her decision should rest on a sufficient foundation, and be unmistakably pro- nounced. Conduct of the Gentleman on Retiring from his Engagement. We hardly know how to approach this portion of our subject. The reasons must be strong indedft that can sufficiently justify a man, placed in the position of an accepted suitor, in severing the ties by which he has bound himself to a lady with the avowed intention of making her his wife. His reasons for breaking off his engagement must be such as will not merely satisfy his own conscience, but will j ustify him in the eyes of the world. If the fault be on the lady's side, great reserve and flelicacy will be observed by any man of honour. If, on the other hand, the imper- ative force of circumstances, such as loss of fortune, or some other unex- The placed he has her his las will eyes of lelicacy imper- il unex- pected ci clearly ai feelings ^ friends, great cat has been of all lett This la Letter- both sexe cealed or spicuousl; ity and i| But th< ingand ^ that kind those for ' done is at most affe( derisive C( prove hoM the heart events be her affecti fondness. It is as not actual should be The mai becoming readiness i quires the lover shou ful or sefi wish must mi^^ -rmrr DEMEANOUR OF THE SUITOR DURING COURTSHIP. 305 pected calamity to himself, may be the cause, then must the reason be clearly and fully explained, in such a manner as to soothe the painful feelings which such a result must necessarily occasion to the lady and her friends. It is scarcely necessary to point out the necessity for observing great caution in all that relates to the antecedents of an engagement that has been broken of?; especially the return on either side of presents and of all letters that have passed. This last allusion brings us to the consideration of Correspondence. Letter- writing is one great test of ability and cultivation, as respects both sexes. The impei-fection of education may be to some extent con- cealed or glossed over in conversation, but cannot fail to stand out con- spicuously in a letter. An ill-written letter infallibly betrays the vulgar- ity and ignorance indicative of a mean social position. £ut there is something more to be guarded against than even bad writ- ing and worse spelling in a correspondence : saying too mvA;h — writing that kind of matter which will not bear to be read by other eyes than those for which it was originally intended. That this is too frequently done is amply proved by the love letters often read in a court of law, the most affecting passages from which occasion " roars of laughter " and the derisive comments of merry-making counsel. Occurrences of this kind prove how frequently letters are not returned or burned when an affair of the heart is broken off. Correspondence between lovers should at all events be tempered with discretion ; and on the lady's part particularly, her affectionate expressions should not degenerate into a silly style of fondness. It is as well to remark here, that in correspondence between a couple not actually engaged, the use of Christian names in addressing each other should be avoided. Demeanour of the Suitor during Courtship. The manners of a gentleman are ever characterized by urbanity and a becoming consideration for the feelings and wishes of others, and by a readiness to practise self-denial. But the very nature of courtship re- quires the fullest exercise of these excellent qualities on his part. The lover should carefully accommodate his tone and bearing, Vkhether cheer- ful or serious, to the mood for the time of his lady-love, whose slightest wish must be his law. In his assiduities to her he most allow of no stint • T hMM ■Miii < iJlf l^f.WIIJipmiRf^ipppi^ippPiHM 306 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. though hindered by time, distance, or fatigue, he must strive to make his professional and social duties bend to his homage at the shrhie of love. All this can be done, moreover, by a man of exQellent sense with perfect propriety. Indeed, the world will not only commend him for such devoted gallantry, but will be pretty sure to censure him for any short-coming in his performance of such devoirs. It is, perhaps, needless to observe that* at such a period a gentleman should be scrupulously neat, without appearing particular, in his attire. We shall not attempt to prescribe what he should wear, as that must, of course, depend on the times of the day when his visits are paid, and other circumstances, such as meeting a party of friends, going to the theatre, etc., with the lady. , Should the Courtship be Short or Long ? The answer to this question must depend on the previous acquaintance- ship, connection, or relation of the parties, as well as on their present cir- cumstances, and the position of their parents. In case of relationship or old acquaintanceship subsisting between the families, when the courtship, declaration, and engagement have followed each other rapidly, a short wooing is preferable to a long one, should other circumstances not create an obstacle. Indeed, as a general rule, we are disposed strongly to recom- mend a short courtship. A man is never well settled in the saddle of his fortunes until he be married. He wants spring, purpose, and aim ; and, above all, he wants a home as the centre of his efforts. Some portion of inconvenience, therefore, may be risked to obtain this ; in fact, it often occurs that by waiting too long the freshness of life is worn off, and that the generous glow of early feelings becomes tamed down to lukewarm- ness, by a too prudent delaying ; while a slight sacrifice of ambition or self-indulgence on the part of the gentleman, and a little descent from pride of station on the lady's side, might have insured years of satisfied love and happy wedded life. On the other hand, we would recommend a long courtship as advisable when — the friends on both sides favouring the match — it happens that the fortune of neither party will prudently allow an immediate marriage. The gentleman, we will suppose, has his way to make in his profession or business, and is desirous not to involve the object of his affection in the distressing inconvenience, if not the misery, of straightened means. He reflects that for a lady it is an actual degradation, however lov« may en- noble the motive of her submission, to descend from her former footing in mm PRELIMINARY ETIQUETTE OF A WEDDING. 807 society. He feels, therefore, that this risk ought not to be incurred. For, although the noble and loving spirit of a wife might enable her to bear up cheerfully against misfortune, and by her endearments soothe the broken spirit of her husband ; yet the lover who would wilfully, at the outset of wedded life, expose his devoted helpmate to the ordeal of pov- erty, would be deservedly scouted as selfish and unworthy. These, then are among the circumstances which warrant a lengthened engagement, and it should be the endeavour of the lady's friends to approve such cautious delay, and do all they can to assist the lover in his efforts to abridge it. The lady's father should regard the lover in the light of another son added to the family, and spare no pains to promote his interests in life, while the lady's mother should do everything in her power, by those ^ small attentions which a mother understands so well, to make the pro- tracted engagement agreeable to him, and as endurable as possible to her daughter. Preliminary Etiquette of a Wedding. Whether the term of courtship may hav3 been long or short — accord- ing to the requirements of the case — the time will at last arrive fof ** Fixing the Day. While it is the gentleman's province to press for the earliest possible opportunity, it is the lady's privilege to name the happy day ; not but that the bridegroom-elect must, after all, issue the fiat, for he has much to consider and prepare for beforehand : for instance, to settle where it will be most convenient to spend the honeymoon — a point which must depend on the season of the year,* on his own vocation, and other circumstances. At this advanced state of affairs, we must not overlook the important question of The Bridal Trousseau and the Wedding Presents. Wedding presents must be sent always to the bride, never to the bride- groom, though they be given by the friends of the latter. They should be sent during the week previous to the wedding day, as it is customary to display them before the ceremony. Two cards folded in the invitation in the envelope are sent with the wedding invitation. The invitation is in the name of the bride's mother, or, if she is not living, the relative or friend nearest the brid« : » J.V'wr»n"'^?'T'IP ', '^jif'!^!^!' " «"'T!™wi"»^pw^iiWi*!Pl!Piiipp««l«wipi 308 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Mrs. Thos. Langton AT HOME, Tuesday, Ifovember 18th, FROM 11 TILL 2 o'clock. No. 86, Church Street. The two cards, one large and one small, are folded iu this invitation. Upon the large card is engraved : On the smaller one: Mr. and Mrs. Edward Blake. Miss Maggie Wallaoe. If the young people " receive " after their return from the bridal tour, and there is no wedding-day reception, the following card is sent out : Mr. and Mrs. Edward Blake AT HOME, Thursday, December 28th, FROM 11 TILL 2 o'clock. No. 50 Isabella Street. Or, Mr. and Mrs. Edward B}ake AT HOME, Thursdays in December, FROM 11 till 2 o'clock. , No. 50 Isabella Street. The bridal calls are not expected to be returned until the last day of reception. ♦ The bridegroom gives to the first groomsman the control of the cere- mony and money for the necessary expenses. The first groomsman pre- sents the bouquet for the bride, leads the visitors up to the young couple for the words of congratulation, gives the clergyman his fee, engages the mmm pHUpPiRPP |ppp||pip|Pppp|jpip;^iiiiil.nii.Mi III . ,^ui,.p,.j.t,.....,v^^«>< ETIQUETTE OF A WEDDING. 809 carriages, secures tickets, checks baggage, secures pleasant seats, if the happy pair start by rail for the " moon"; and, in short, makes all arrange- ments. If the wedding takes place^in the church, the front seats in the body of the church are resewed for the relatives of the young couple. The bride must not be kept waiting. The clergyman should be within the rails, the bridegroom and groomsmen should be in the vestry-room by the time the bride is due at the church. The bridesmaids should receive the bride in the vestibule. The bridal party meets in the vestry-room. Then the bride, leaning on the arm of her father, leads the procession ; the brid*^^ qfroom, with the bride's mother upon his arm, follows ; then groomsmen and bridesmaids i^j. couples follow. At the altar the bridegroom receives the bride, and the ceremony be- gins. The groomsmen stand behind the bridegroom, and the bridesmaids behind the bride. In some churches, the bride and bridegroom remove the right-hand glove ; in others it is not considered essential. The bride stands on the left of the groom. When the wedding takes place at the house of the bride, the bridal party is grouped behind folding doors or curtains ere their friends see them. If, however, this is not convenient, they enter in the same order as in church. The first bridesmaid removes the bride's left-hand glove for the ring. After the ceremony, the bride and groom go in the same carriage from the church to the house, or from the house to the railway depot or boat. The bride does not change her dress until she assumes her travelling dress Her wedding gown is worn at the breakfast. Friends of the family should call upon the mother of the bride during the two weeks after the wedding. Mourning must not be worn at a wedding. Even in the case of a wid- owed mother to either of the happy pair, it is customary to wear gray, or some neutral tint. It is no longer the fashion at a wedding or wedding reception to con- gratulate the bride ; it is the bridegroom who receives congratulations ; the bride wishes for her future happiness. The bride is spoken to first. The day being fixed for the wedding, the bride's father now presents her with a sum of money for her trousseau, according to her rank in life. A few days previously to the wedding, presents are also made to the bride by relations and intimate friends, varying in amount and value according to their various degrees of relationship andtfriendship — such as plate, fur- ,-^^ TT-r-y- 310 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. .,V*- niture, jewellery, and articles of ornaftient as well as of utility, to the newly-married lady in her future station. These, together with her wedding dresses, etc., it is customary to exhibit to the intimate friends of the bride a day or two before her marriage. Duty of a Bridegroom-Elect. The bridegroom-elect has, on the eve of matrimony, no little business to transact. His first care is to look after a house suitable for his future home, and then, assisted by the taste of his chosen helpmate, to take steps to furnish it in a becoming style. He must also, if engaged in business, make arrangements for a month's absence ; in f»ct, bring together all mat- ters into a focus, so as to be readily manageable when, after the honey- moon, he shall take the reins himself. He will do well to burn most of his bachelor letters, and to part with, it may be, some few of his bachelor connections ; and he should communicate, in an easy, informal way, to his acquaintances generally, the close approach of so important a change in his condition. Not to do this might hereafter lead to inconvenience, and cause no little annoyance. We must now speak of Edying the Eing. It is the gentleman's business to buy the ring ; and let him taJce special care not to forget it, for such an awkward mistake has frequently happened- The ring should be, we need scarcely say, of the very purest gold, but sub- stantial. There are three reasons for this ; first, that it may not break — a source of great trouble to the young wife ; secondly, that it may not slip off the finger without being missed — few husbands being pleased to hear that their wives have lost their wedding rings ; and thirdly, that it may last out the lifetime of the loving recipient, even should that life be pro- tracted to the extreme extent. To get the right size required is not one of the least interesting of the delicate mysteries of love. A not unusual method is to get a sister of the fair one to lend one of the lady's rings to enable the jeweller to select the proper size. Care mujt be taken, how- ever, that it is not too large. Some audacious suitors, rendered bold^by their favoured position, have been even known presumptuously to try the ring on the patient finger of the bride-elect ; and it has rarely happened in such cases that the ring has been refused, or sent back to be changed. ^^^^^"^""I'flppl WHO SHOULD BE BRIDESMAIDS. 311 Who should bo asked to the Wedding. The wedding should take place at the house of the bride's parents or guardians. The parties who ought to be asked are the father and mother of the gentleman, tJie brothers and sisters (their wives and husbands also, if married), and indeed the immediate relations and favoxired friends of both parties. Old family friends on the bride's side should also receive invitations — the rationale or original intention of this wedding assemblage being to give publicity to the fact that the bride is leaving her paternal home with the consent and approbation of her parents. On this occasion the bridegi'oom has the privilege of asking any friends he may choose to the wedding ; but no friend has a right to feel affronted at not being invited, since, were all the friends on either side assembled, the wedding breakfast would be an inconveniently crowded reception rather than an impressive ceremonial. It is, however, considered a matter of friendly attention on the part of those who cannot be invited, to be present at the ceremony in the church. Who should be Eridesmaids. The bridesmaids should include the unmarried sisters of the bride ; but it is considered an anomaly for an elder sister to perform this function. The pleasing novelty for several years past of an addition to the number of bridesmaids, varying from two to eight, and sometimes more, has added greatly to the interest in weddings, the bride being thus enabled to diffuse a portion of her own happiness among the most intimate of her younger friends. One lady is always appointed principal bridesmaid, and has the bride in her charge ; it is also her duty to take care that the other brides- maids have the wedding favours in readiness. On the second bridesmaid devolves, with her principal, the duty of sending out the cards ; and on the third bridesmaid, in conjunction with the remaining beauties of her choir, the onerous office of attending to certain ministrations and mysteries con- nected with the wedding cake. Of the Bridegroomsmen. It behooves a bridegroom to be exceedingly particular in the selection of his friends who, as groomsmen, are to be his comp^ions and assistants on the occasion of his wedding. Their number is limited to that of the bridesmaids — one for each. It is unnecessary to add that very much of the social pl&asure of the day will depend on their proper mating. Young ■'*'!T"w^;v."'w^'"-;!V ..■•-) ?V«IW?»!!||};'.' ' . 'I'm.'W'r"'' vvmm'^i'f: yi'. I «><|i<> l.i.Bl, JIJl^liMi^lHlJlJIl. 312 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. and unmarried they must be, handsome they should be, good-humoured they cannot fail to be, well-dressed they will of course take good care to be. Let the bridegroom diligently con over his circle of friends, and select the comeliest and the pleasantest fellows for his own train. The principal bridegroomsman, styled his " best man," has, for the day, the special charge of the bridegroom ; and the last warning we would give him is, to take care that, when the bridegioom puts on his wedding waistcoat, he does not omit to put the wedding ring into the corner of the left-hand pocket. The dress of a groomsman should be light and elegant ; a dress-coat, for- merly considered indispensable, is no longer adopted. Etiquette of a Wedding. The parties being assembled on the wedding morning in the drawing- room of the residence of the bride's father (unless, as sometimes happens, the breakfast is spread in that room), the happy cortege should proceed to the church in the following order : In the first carriage, the bride's mother and the parents of the bride- groom. In the second and third carriages, bridesmaids. Other carriages with the bride's friends. In the last caniage, the bride and her father. Oostume of the Bride. A bride's costume should be white, or some hue as close as possible to it. Costume of the Bridegroom. Formerly it was not considered to be in good taste for a gentleman to be married in a black coat. More latitude is now allowed in the costume of the bridegroom, the style now adopted being what is termed morning dress : a frock coat, light trowsers, white waistcoat, ornamental tie, and white or gray gloves. The Marriage Ceremony. The bridegi'oom stands at the right hand of the bride. The father stands just behind her, so aif to be in readiness to give her hand at the proper mo- ment to the bridegroom. The principal bridesmaid stands on the left of the bride, ready to take off the bride's glove, which she keeps as a perquisite and prize of her office. ':"I""V I INI ui iw^^^^K^mmmi!^^9^mimfmmmw^ ^^ ^^mnm THE WEDDING BBEAKFAST. 313 The Words "I WiU' are to be pronounced distinctly and audibly by both parties, such being the all-important part (of the ceremony as respects themselves; the public de- livery, before the priest, by the father of his daughter to the bridegroom, being an evidence of his assent ; the silence which follows the inquiry for " cause or just impediment " testifying that of society in general ; and the " I will " being the declaration of the bride and bridegroom that they are voluntary parties to their holy union in marriage. The Words "Honour and Obey" must also be distinctly spoken by the bride. They constitut,e an essential part of the obligation and contract of matrimony on her part. After the Ceremony. - the clergymr ^ usually shakes hands with the bride and bridegroom, and the bride's father and mother, and a general congratulation ensues. The Return Home. The bridegroom now leads the bride out of the Church, and the happy pair return homeward in the first can*iage. The father and mother follow in the next. The rest " stand not on the order of their going," but start off in such wise as they can best contrive. The Wedding Breakfast. The bride and bridegroom sit together at the centre of the table, in front of the wedding cake, the clergjrman who performed the ceremony taking his place opposite to them. The top and bottom of the table are occupied by the father and mother of the bride. The principal bridesmaid sits to the left of the bride, and the principal bridegroomsman on the left of the bridegroom. It may not be necessary to say that it is customary for the ladies to wear their bonnets just as they came from the church. The bridesmaids cut the cake into small pieces, which are not eaten until the health of the bride is proposed. This is usually done by the officiating clergyman, or by an old and cherished friend of the family of the bride- groom. The bridegroom returns thanks for the bride and for himself. The health of the bride's parents is then proposed, and is followed by those i.""^.^F 1 ijwftfinpty^, ,i").f i| .ff-'f" ! I' ' 'v.' r ^" S14 THE HOME, FABM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. of the principal personages present, the toast of the bridesmaids being generally one of the pleasantest features of the festal ceremony. After about two hours, the principal bridesmaid leads the bride out of the room as. quietly as possible, so as not to disturb the party or attract attention. Shortly after — it may be in about ten minutes — the absence of the bride being noticed, the rest of the ladies retire. Then it is that the bridegroom has a few melancholy moments to bid adieu to his bachelor friends, and he then generally receives some hints on the subject in a short address from one of them, to which he is of course expected to respond. He then with- draws for a few moments, and returns after having made a slight addi- tion to his toilet, in readiness for travelling. Departure for the Honeymoon. a The young bride, divested of her bridal attire, and quietly costumed for the journey, now bids farewell to her bridesmaids and lady friends. A few tears spring to her gentle eyes as she takes a last look at the home she is now leaving. The servants venture to crowd about her with their humble bi^.t heartfelt congratulations ; finally, she falls weeping on her mother's bosom. A short cough is heard, as of some one summoning up lesolution to hide emotion It is her father. He dares not trust his voice ; but holds out his hand, gives her an affectionate kiss, and then leads her, half turning back, down the stairs and through the hall, to the door, where he delivers her as a precious charge to her husband, who hands her quickly into the carriage, springs in after her, waves his hand to the party who appear crowding at the window, half smiles at the throng about the door, then, amidst a shower of old slippers — missiles of good-luck sent fly- ing after the happy pair — gives the word, and they are off, and started on the long-hoped-for voyage ! ^hc' l^auguagc of Jflob)cr$. OW the universal heart of man blesses flowers ! They are wreathed round the cradle, the marriage-altar, and the tomb. The Persian in the far East delights in their per- fume, and writes his love in nosegays ; while the Indiaji child of the far West claps his hands with glee as he gathers the abundant blossoms, — the illuminated scrip- tures of the prairies. The Cupid of the ancient Hindoos tipped his arrows with flowers, and orange-flowera are a bridal crown with us, a nation of yesterda}'. Flowers garlanded the Grecian altar, and hung in votive wreath before the Chris- tian shrine. All these are appropriate uses. Flowers should deck the brow of the youthful bride, for they are in themselves a lovely type of marriage. They should twine round the tomb, for their perpetually re- newed beauty is a symbol of the resurrection. They should festoon the altar, for their fragrance and their beauty ascend in perpetual worship before the Most High. Flowers have a language of their own, and it is this bright particular language that we would teach our readers. How^ charmingly a young gentleman can speak to a young lady, and with what eloquent silence in this delightful language. How delicately she can respond, the beautiful little flowers telling her tale in perfumed words ; what a delicate story the myrtle or the rose tells ! How unhappy that which bazil, or the 3'ellow rose reveals, while ivy is the most faithful of all. ALMOND— HOPE. The hope, iu dreams of a happier hour, That alights upon misery's brow, Springs out of the silvery almond flower, That blooms on a leafless bough. Abecedary Volubility. Abatina Fickleness Acacia Friendship. Acacia, Rose or White. . .Elegance. Acacia, Yellow Secret love Acanthus The fine arts. Artifice. Acalia Temperance Achillea Millefolia War. Aconite (Wolfsbane) Misanthropy Aconite, Crowfoot Lustre. Adonia, Flos Painful recol- lections. African Marigold Vulgar minds. Agnus Castus Coldness. In- difference. Agrimony Thankfulness. Gratitude. Almond (Common) Stupidity, In- discretion. Almond (Flowering) Hope. Almond, Laurel . . .• Perfidy. ■"^;>iw iijiiii^jm^uiiii" "",f 316 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. Allapioe Oompauion. Aloe Grief. Reli^ioua ■upentitiun. Althiea Frutex (Syrian Mallow) Perauaaion. Alyaaum (Sweet) Worth beyond beauty Amaranth (Globe) Immortality. Unfadinglove. Amaranth (Cookaoomb) ..Foppery. Affec- tation. Amaryllia Pride. Timid- ity. Splendid bean ly. Ambrosia Love returned. Ainerioan Cowslip Divine beauty. American Elm P&triotism. American Linden Matrimony. American Star wort Welcome to stranger. Cheenulness in old age. Amethyst Admiration. Anemone (ZephyrFlower)SicknesB. Ex- pectation. Anemone (Garden) Forsaken. Angelica Inspiration. Angrec Royalty. Apple Temptation. Apple (Blossom) Preference. •■^^-^ Fame speaks ^T^ him great and good. Apple, Thorn Duceitf ulcharms Apocynum (Dog Vane) ...Deceit. Arbor Yitte Unchanging friendship. Live for me. Arem (Wake Robin) Ardour. Ash-leaved Trumpet Flower Separation. Ash Tree Grandeur. Aspen Tree Lamentation. Aster (China) Yariety. After- thought. Asphodel My regrets fol- low you to the jjrave. Auricula. Painting. Auricula, Scarlet Avarice. \ Austurtium Splendour. Azalea Temperance. Bachelor's Buttons Celibacy. Balm Sympathy. Balm, Gentle Pleasantry. Balm of Gilead Cure. Belief. Balsam, Red Touch me not. Impatient re- solves. Balsam, Yellow Impatience. Barberry Sourness of tem- per. Barberry Tree Sharpness. Basil Hatred. Bay Leaf I change but in death. Bay ( Rose) RhododendronDanger. Beware. Bay Tree Glory. Bay Wreath Reward of merit Bfaarded Crepis Protection. Beech Tree Prosperity. Bee Orchis Industry. Bee Ophrys Error. Belladonna Silence. Bell Flower, PyramidicalOonstancy. Bell Flower (small whito)Gratitude. Belvedere I declare against you. Betony Surprise. Bilberry Treachery. Bindweed, Great Insinuation. Bindweed, Small Humility. Birch Meekness. Birdsfoot, Trefoil.; Revenge. Bittersweet : Nightshade. Truth. Black Poplar Courage. Blackthorn Difficulty. Bladder Nut Tree Frivolity. Am- usement. Bluebottle (Century) Delicacy. Bluebell Constancy. Blue-flowered Greek Ya- lerian Rupture. Bonus Henricus Goodness. Borage Bluntness. Box Tree Stoicism. Bramble Lowliness. En- vy. Remorse. Branch of Cuorants You please all. Branch of Thorns Severity. R'g- our. Bridal Rose Hbpp' '"Vp Broom ' .t- Buckbean ... .^ Bud of White .. ig nt ove, Bugloss F ..sehood. Bulrush Iiidiscrtt on. Docility. Bundle of Reeds, with their Panicles Music. Burdock Importunity. Touch me not. THE LANGUAGE 6f FLOWERS. 317 Buttercup (Kingcup). .- .Ingratitude. Childiahneu. Butterfly Orchis . . .». Gaiety. Butterfly Weed Let me go. Cabbage Profit. Oaoalia Adulation. OaotuB Warmth. Oalla iGthiopica Maguificent, Beauty. Calyoanthun Benevolence. Camellia Japonioa, Red. ..Unpretending excellence. Camellia Japonioa, WhitePerfected loveli- neiB. Camomile Energy in ad- I veraity. Canary Graaa Perseverance. Candytuft Indiiference. Caaterbury Bell Acknowledg- ment. Cape Jasmine I'm too happy. Cardamine Paternal e^ror. Carnation, Deep Red A1<>.b ! for my poor heart. Carnation, Striped Refusal. Carnation , Yellow Disdain. Cardinid Flower Distinction. Catchfly Snare. Catohfly , Red Youthful love. Catchfly, White Betrayed. Cedar Strength. Cedar of Lebanon Incorruptible. Cedar Leaf I live for thee. Celandine (Lesser) Joys to come. Century Delicacy. Cereus (Creeping) Modest genius. Champignon ....Suspicion. Chequered Fritillary. . . . .Persecution. Cherry Tree Good education. Cherry Tree, White Deception. Chestnut Tree Do me justice. Luxury. Chickweed Rendezvous. Chicory Frugality. China Aster Variety. China Aster, Double I partake your sentiments. China Aster, Single I will think of it. China or Indian Pink. .... Aversion. China Rose Beauty always new. Chinese Chrysanthemum. Cheerfulness un- der adversity. Christmas Rose Relieve my an- xiety. Chrysanthemum, Red ...I love. Chi^santhemum, White.. Truth. Chrysanthemum, Yellow. Slighted love. Cinque foil Maternal affec- tion. CirciBa Spell. Cistus, or Rook Rose Popular favour. Cistus, Gum I shall die to- morrow. Citron Ill-natured beauty. Clematis Mental beauty. Clematis, Evergreen Poverty. Clotbur Rudeness. Per- tinacity. Cloves Dignity. Clover, Four-leaved Be mine. Clover, Red Industry. Clover, White Think of me. Olobaea Gossip. Cockscomb, Amaranth.. .Foppery. AflSac- tation. Singu- larity. Colchicum, or MeadowMy best days are ' Saffron past. Coltsfoot Justice shall be done. Columbine Folly. Columbine, Purple Resolved to win. Columbine, Red Anxious and trembling. Convolvulus Bonds. Convolvulu8,Blue (Minor)Repose. Night. Convolvulus, Major. Extinguished hopes. Convolvulus, Pink Worth sustained by judicious and tender af- fection. Corchorus Impatient of ab- sence. Coreopsis Always cheerful. Coreopsis Arkansa Love at first sight. Coriander Hidden worth. Com Riches. Com, Broken Quarrel. Corn Straw Agreement. Cora Bottle Delicacy. Com Cockle Gentility. Comel Tree Duration. Coronella. Success crown your wishes. Cowslip Pensiveness. Winning grace Cowslip, American Divine beauty. You are my divinity. Cranberry Cure for heart< ache. m If , ,-' : '^v!'^wffm^'%'tmm}f\ ' 318 THE HOME, FARM Ax^D BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. Creeping Cerus Horror. CreBB Stability. » Power. Crocus Abuse not. Crocus, Spring Youthful glad- ness. Crocus, Saffron Mirth. Crown Imperial Majesty. Power Crowsbill Envy. Crowfoot Ingratitude. Crowfoot (Aconiteleaved)Lustre. Cocoa Plant Ardour. Cudweed, American Unceasing re- membrance. Currant Thy frown will kill me. CuBcuta Meanness. Cyclamen Diffidence. Cypress Death. Mourn- ing. DAFFODIL-KEGARD. I. Fair Daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon ; And yet the early rising sun Haa not attained his noon ; Stay, stay, Until the hastening day Has run But to the even song. And, having prayed together, we Will go A> ; th you along. II. We have short time to stay as ye, We have as fleet a spring. As quick a growth to meet decay As you or anything ; We die As your hours do, and dry Away, Like to the summer's rain, Or aa the pearls of morning's dew, Ne'er to be found again. Daffodil Regard. Dahlia... . .•. Instability. Daisy Innocence. Daisy, Garden I share your sentiments. DaiBy, Michaelmas Farewell. Daiay, Party-coloured . . .Beauty. Daisy, Wild I will think of it. Damask Rose Brilliant com- plexion. Dandelion Rustic oracle. Daphne, Odora Painting the liiy Darnel (Ray Grass) Vice. Dead Leaves Sadness. Dew Plant A serenade. Dittany of Crete Birth. Dittany of Crete, White.. Passion. Dock Patience. Dodder of Thyme. Baseness. Dogsbano Deceit. False- hood. Dogwood Durability. Dragon Plant Snare. Dragonwort Horror. Dried Flax. Utility. Ebony Tree Blackness. EKlantine (Sweetbriar).... Poetry. Iwounu to heal. Elder Zealousness. Elm Dignity. Enchanter's Nightshade.. Witchcraft. Sor- cery. Endive Frugality. Eupatorium ..Delay. Everflowing Candytuft.. ..Indifference. Evergreen Clematis. Poverty. Evergreen Thorn Solace in adver- sity. Everlasting Never ceasing remembrance. Everlasting Pea Lasting plea- sure. Fennel Worthy of all praise. Strength. Fern Fascination. Ficoides, Ice Plant Your looks freeze me. Fig Argument. Fig Marigold Idleness. Fig Tree Proli6o. Filbert Reconciliation. Fir Time. Fir Tree Elevation. Flax Domestic indus- try. Fate. I feel youi kindness. Flax-let . r ed Goldy-lr ^ks. .Tardiness. Fleur-de-Lia lame. I burn. Fleur-de-Luce Fire. Flowering Fern Reverie. Flowering Reed Confidence in Heaven. Flower-of -an- Hour Delioate beauty. Fly Orchis ..r Eiror. i(Sr THE LANCfUAGE OF FLOWERS. 319 Flytrap Deceit. Fool's Parsley. Silliness. Forget Me Not True love. For- get me not. Foxglove .Insincerity. Foxtail Grass Sporting. French Honeysuckle Rustic beauty. French Marigold Jealousy. French Willow Bravery and hu- manity. Frog Ophrys : .Disgust. Fuller's Teasel Misanthropy. Fumitory Spleen. Fuchsia, Scarlet Taste. okuden Anemone Forsaken. Garden Chervil Sincerity. Garden Daisy I partake your sentiments. Garden Marigold Uneasiness. Garden Ranunculus You are rich in attractions. Garden Sage Esteem. Garland of Roses. Reward of vir- tue. Germander Speedwell . . Facility. Geranium, Dark Melancholy. Geranium, Ivy Bridal favour. Geranium, Lemon Unexpected meeting. Geranium, Nutmeg Expected meet- ing. Geranium, Oak-leaved ...True friendship. Geraniuja, Pencilled Ingenuity. Geranium, Rose-scented. .Preference. Geranium, Scarlet Oomforting.Stu- pidity. Geranium, Silver-leaved.. Recall. Geranium, Wild ....... Steadfast piety. Gilliflower Bonds of affec- tion. Glory Flower Glorious beauty. (boat's Rue Reason. Golden Red Precaution. Gooseberry Anticipation. Gourd Extent. Bulk' Grape, Wild Charity. Grass Submission. U- tility. Guelder Rose Winter. Age. Hand Flower Tree Warning. Harebell Submission. Grief Hawkweed Quicksightei- ness. Hawthorn Hoper. Haiel .' Reoonoiliation. Heath Solitude. Helenium Tears. Heliotrope Devotion. Faith- fulness. Hellebore :.... Scandal. Calum- ny. Helmet Flower (Monks- hood) Knight-errantry Hemlock Tou will be my death. Hemp Fate. Henbane Imperfection. Hepatica Confidence. Hibiscus Delicate beauty. Holly Foresight. Holly Herb Enchantment. Hollyhock Ambition. Fe- cundity. Honesty Honesty. Fa» cination. Honey Flower Love, sweet and secret. Honeysuckle Generous and devoted affec- tion. Honeysuckle (Coral ) The colour of my fate. Honeysuckle (French).... Rustic beauty. Hop Injustice. Hornbeam Ornament, Horse Chestnut Luxury. Hortensia You are cold. . Houseleek Vivacity, Dom- estic industry. Housetonia Content. Hoya Sculpture. Humble Plant Despondency. Hundred-leaved Rose Dignity of mind Hyacinth Sport. Game. Play. Hyacinth, White Uuobtrusive loveliness. Hydrangea A Boaster. Heartlessness. Hyssop Cleanliness. Iceland Moss Health. Ice Plant Your looks freeze me. Imperial Montague Power. Indian Cress Warlike trophy, Indian Jasmine (Ipom(»a)Attaohment. Indian Pink (Double) Always lovely. Indian Plum Privation. Iris Message. Iris German Flame. Ivy Fidelity. Mar> riage. 320 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSTNESS CYCLOPAEDIA ^I Ivy, Sprig of , with tendrilsAssiduous to please. Jacob's Ladder Come down. Japan Rose Beauty is your only attraction. Jasmine Amiability. Jasmine, Cape Transportof joy Jasmine, Carolina Separation. Jasmine, Indian I attach myself to you. Jasmine, Spanish Sensuality. Jasmine, Yellow Grace and ele- gance. Jonquil I desire a return of affection. Judas Tree Unbelief. Be- trayal. Juniper Succour. Pro- tection. Justicia The penectionof female loveli- ness. Kennedia Mental beauty. King-cups Desire of richt^s* Laburnum Focsckan. Pen- sive beauty. Lady's Slipper Capricious beau- ty. Win me and wear me. Lagerstrwmia, Indian Eloquence. Lantana Rigour. Larch Audacity. Bold- ness. Larkspur Lightness. Lev- ity. Larkspur, Pink Fickleness. Larkspur, Purple ...Haughtiness. Laurel... Glory. Laurel, Common, in flower Perfidy. Laurel, Ground Perseverance. Laurel, Mountain Ambition. Laurel-leaved Magnolia. .Dignity. Laurestina A token. I die if neglected. Lavender Distrust. Leaves (dead) Melancholy. Lemon Zest. Lemon Blossoms Fidelity in love. Lettuce Cold-hearted- ness. Lichen Dejection, Soli- tude. Lilac, Field ■. Humility. Lilac, Purple First emotions of love. Lilac, White Youthful inno- cence. Lily, Day Coquetry. Lily, Imperial! Majesty. Lily, White Purity. Sweet- ness. Lily, Yellow Falsehood. Gai- ety. Lily of the Valley .Return of hap- piness. Linden or Lime Trees. . ..Conjugal love. Lint I feel my obli- gation. Live Oak Liberty. Liverwort Confidence. Licorice, Wild I declare against you. Lobelia Malevolence. Locust Tree Elegance. Locust Tree (green) Affection beyond the grave. London Pride Frivolity. Lote Tree Concord. Lotus Eloquence. Lotus Flower Estranged love. Lotus Leaf Recantation. Love in a mist Perplexity. Love lies Bleeding Hopeless, not heartless. Lucem Life. Lupine Voraciousness. Imagination. Madder Calumny. Magnolia Love of nature. Magnolia, Swamp Perseverance. Mallow Mildness. Mallow, Marsh Beneficence. Mallow, Syrian Consumed by love. Mallow, Venetian Delicate beauty. Manchineal Tree Falsehood. Mandrake Horror. Maple Reserve. Marigold Grief. Marigold, African Vulgar minds. Marigold, French Jealousy. Marigold, Prophetic Prediction. Marigold and Cypress. . . . Despair. Marjoram Blushes. Marvel of Peru Timidity. Meadow Lychnis Wit. Meadow Saffron My best days are past. Meadowsweet Uselessness. Mercury Goodness. V i '{^^^^^^*K ■; «' j^^WIP^ V'W\ aot ess. ion. ture. ce. >y auty. \ 1' ' 1 Ml' M ■ 1 '•it \ • -^ 1 1 *1 3 . '•' ':^ 1 If 1 is 1 '^ppppl'' ""WPPPPSIWSP "'fJPPPif'lWWf' Wt^^fm^- Mesembryi Mezereon . Miohaelma Mignionetl Milfoil .... Milkvetoh Milkwort . Mimosa (Si Mint Mistletoe.. Mock Ora: Monkshooi Flower). Moonwort Morning G Moschatel. Moss Mosses . . . Mossy Sax Motherwoi Mountain . Mourning Mouse-ear< Mouse-earc Grass .. Moving Pit Mudwort. . Mug wort. . MuUierry 1 Mulberry 1 Mushroom Musk Plan Mustard Sc Myrobalan, Myrrh Myrtle.... NaroisFus ., Nasturtiun Kettle Bur Nettle Tre( Night-blooi Night Com Nightshade Oak Leavei Oak Tree .. Oak (White .l«![wi«fl!!S,T«"';'''.»',*WW. !"l^"^V!flP1f iifM' '■)sJ"?'!i»«!W. " TT? THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWEES. 321 Mesembryanthemum Idleneu. Mezereon Desire to please. Michaelmas Daisy Afterthought. Mignionette Your qualities surpass your charms. MilfoU War. Milkvetoh Your presence softens my pains. Milkwort Hermitage. Mimosa (Sensitive t'lant). Sensitiveness. Mint Virtue. Mistletoe I surmount diffi- culties. Mock Orange Counterfeit. Monkshood (Helmet Chivalry. Kn't- Flower) errantry. Moon wort Fotgetf ulness. Morning Glory. Affectation. Moschatel Weakness. Moss Maternal love. Mosses Ennui. Mossy Saxifrage A ffection. Motherwort Concealed love. Mountain Ash Prudence. Mourning Bride Unfortunate at- tachment. I have lost all. Mouse-eared Chickweed.. Ingenious sim- plicity. Mouse-eared Scorpion Grass Forget me not. Moving Plant Agitation. Mudwort Tranquillity. Mugwort HappmesB. MuDserry Tree (Black). . . I shall not sur- vive you. Mulberry Tree (White)... Wisdom. Mushroom Suspicion. Musk Plant Weakness. Mustard Seed Indifference. Myrobalan Privation. Myrrh Gladness. Myrtle Love. Naroisrus Egotism. Nasturtium Patriotism. Nettle Burning Slander. Nettle Tree Concert. Night-blooming Cereus... Transient beau- ty. Night Convolve us Night. Nightshade Truth. Oak Leaves Bravery. Oak Tree Hospitality. -Oak (White) Independence. U Oats The witching soul of music. Oleander Beware. Olive Peace. Orange blossoms Your purity equals your loveliness. Orange Flowers..'. Chastity. Bridal festivities. Orange Tree Generosity. Orchis A Belle. Osier Frankness. Osmnnda Dreams. Ox Eye Patience. Palm Victory. Pansy. Thoughts. Parsley •...Festivity. Pasque Flower You have no claims. Passion Flower. Religious super- stition. Patience Dock Patience. Pea, Everlasting An appointed meeting. Last- ing pleasures. Pea, Sweet Departure. Peach Your qualities, like your charms, are unequalled. Peach Blossom.. I am your cap- tive. Pear Affection. Pear Tree Comfort. Pennyroyal Flee away. Peony Shame. Bash- fulness. Peppermint Warmth of feel- ing. Periwinkle, Blue Early friendship Periwinkle, White Pleasures of me- mory. Persicaria Restoration. Persimon Bury me amid Nature's beau- ties. Peruvian Heliotrope Devotion. Pheasant's Eye Remembrance. Phlox Unanimity. Pigeon Berry Indifference. Pimpernel ^Chan^e. Assig- , nation. Pine Pity. Pine-apple.. You are perfect. Pine, Pitch Philosopny. Pine, Spruce Hope In adver- sity. fc'fl"'-^;^^.^-'' - '' v^*'^? < wrn^ m 822 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYGLOF.i£DIA. Pink Boldness. Pink, Carnation Woman's love. Pink, Indian, Double Always lovely. Pink, Indian, Single . . . .Aversion. Pink, Mountain Aspiring. Pink, Bed, Double Pure and ardent love. Pink, Single Pure love. Pink, variegated Refusal. Pink, White Ingeniousness, Talent Plane Tree Genius. Plum, Indian Privation. Plum Tree Fidelity. Plum, Wild Independence. Polyanthus Pride of riches. Polyanthus, Crimson The heart's mys- i tery. Polyanthus, Lilac Confidence . Pomegranate Foolishness. Pomegranate Flower Mature elegance Poplar, Black Courage. Poplar, White Time. Poppy, Red Consolation. Poppy, Scarlet Fantastic extra- vagance. Poppy, White Sleep. My bane. My antidote. Potato Benevolence. Prickly Pear Satire. Pride of China Dissension. Primrose Early youth. Primrose, Evening Inconstancy. Primrose, Red Unpatronized merit. Privet Prohibition. Purple, Clover Provident. Pyrus, Japonica Fairies' fire. Quaking-Graas Agitation. Quamoolit Busybody. Queen's Rocket. You are the Queen of co- quettes. Fash- ion. Quince Temptation. Ragged Robin Wit. Ranunculus You are radiant with charms. Ranunculus, Garden .... You are rich in J attractions. Ranunculus, Wud (Ingratitude. Raspberry Remorse. Ray Grass Vice. Red Catchfly Youthful love. Reed Complaisance. Music Reed, Split Indiscretion. Rhododendron (Rosebay)Danger. Beware Rhubarb ...Advice. Rocket Rivalry. Rose '. . . Love. Rose, Austrian Thou art all that is lovely. Rose, Bridal Happy love. Rose, Burgundy Unconscious beauty. Rose, Cabbage Ambassador of love. Rose, Champion Only deserve my love. Rose, Carolina Love is danger- ous. Rose, China Beauty always new. Rose, Christmas Tranquillize my anxiety. Rose, Daily Thy smile I as- pire to. Rose, Damask Brilliant com- plexion. Rose, Deep Red Bashful shame. Rose, Dog Pleasure and pain. Rose, Guelder Winter. Age. Rose, Hundred-leaved . . Pride. Rose, Japan Beauty is your only attraction Rose, Maiden Blush If you love me,. you will find it out. Rose, Multiflora Grace. Rose, Mundi Variety. Rose, Musk Capricious beau- ty. Rose, Musk, Cluster Charming. Rose, Single Simplicity. Rose, Thomless Early attach- ment. Rose, Unique Call me not beautiful. Rose, White I am worthy of you. Rose, White (witherad)... Transient im- pressions. Rose, Yellow Decreasevf love. Rose, York and Lancas- ter War. Jealousy. Rose, Full-blown, placed over two Buds Secrecy. Rose, White and Red to- ' gether Unity. Roses, Crown of Reward of vir- tue. Rosebud, Red Pore and lovely, - ii^«'r .;»;* I.'.l' ;>:;S^4';iW4'?i'! '4£.X\yj'..i:.Ji.. ISf^^w^r?»wf5'??5?!?T^^ ■ THE LANGUAGE OP FLOWERS. 323 Rosebud, White Qirlhood, Rosebud, Moss- Qonfession of love. Rosebay (Rhododendron)Beware. Danger Rosemary Remembrance. Rudbeckia Justice. Rue Disdain, Rush Docility. Rye Grass Changeable dis- position. Saffron Beware of excess Saffron Crocus Mirth. Saffron, Meadow My happiest days are past. Sage. Domestic virtue Sage, Garden Esteem. Sainfoin Agitation. St. John's Wort Animosity. Su- perstition. Sardony Irony. Saxifrage, Mossy Affection. Scabious Unfortunate love. Scabious, Sweet Widowhood. Scarlet Lychnis. Sonbeaming eyes. SohinuB Religiousenthu- siasm. Scotch Fir. Elevation. Sensitive Plant. Sensibility. De- licate feelings. Senvy Indifference. Shamrock Light - hearted- ness. Snakesfoot Horror. Snapdragon Presumption. Snowball. Bound. Snowdrop Hope. Sorrel Affection. Sorrel, Wild Wit ill-timed. Sorrel, Wood Joy. Southernwood Jest. Bantering. Spanish Jasmine SensuaUty. Spearmint Warmth of sen- timent. Speedwell Female fidelity. Speedwell, Germander... Facility. Speedwell, Spiked Semblance. Spider Ophrys Adroitness. Spiderwort Esteem, notlore. Spiked Willow Herb Pretension. Spindle Tree Your charms are engraven on my heart. Star of Bethlehem Purity. Star wort Afterthought. Starwort, American Cheerfulness in old age. Stock Lasting beauty.^ Stock, Ten Week. Promptness. Stonecrop Tranquillity. Straw, Broken Rupture of a contract. Straw, Whole Union. Strawberry Tree Esteem & love. Sumach, Venice Splendour. In- tellectual ex' cellence. Sunflower, Dwarf. Adoration. Sunflower, Tall Haughtiness. Sallow-wort , . . .Cure for heart- ache. Sweet Basil Good wishes. Sweetbrier, American Simplicity. Sweetbrier, European I wound to heal. Sweetbrier, Yellow Decrease of love. Sweet Pea Delicate pleas- ures. Sweet Sultan Felicity. Sweet William Gallantry. Sycamore Curiosity. Syringa Memory. Syringa, Carolina Disappointment Tamarisk Crime, 'Tansy (Wild) I declare war against you. Teasel Misanthropy. Tendrils of Climbing Plants Ties. Thistle, Common Austerity. Thistle, Fuller's Misanthropy. Thistle, Scotch Retaliation. Thorn, Apple Deceitful charm. Thorn , Branch of. Severity. Thrift Sympathy, Throatwort Neglected beau- ty. Thyme Activity. Tiger Flower For once may pride befriend mo. Traveller's Joy Safety. Tree of Life Old age. Trefoil Revenge. Tremelia Nestoc Resistance. Trillium Pictum Modest beauty. Truffle Surprise. Trumpet Flower Fame. [sures. Tuberose Dangerous plea- Tulip Fame. Tulip, Red Declaration of love. ♦ ^m^w'jw] ?Ww^ '■*.: fwy^i 324 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Tulip, Variegated Beautiful eyes. Tulip, Yelluw Hopeleu love. Turnip Charity. Tumilage (Sweet-8cented)JuBtioe shall be done you. Valerian An accommodat- ing disposition. Valerian, Greek Rupture. Venice Sumach Intellectual excellence. Splendour. Venos's Car Fly with me. Venus's Looking-glass. . . .Flattery. Venus's Trap Deceit. Vernal Grass Poor, but happy. Veronica Fidelity. Vervain Enchantment. Vine Intoxication. Violet, Blue Faithfulness. Violet, Dane Watchfulness. Violet, Sweet Modesty. Violet, Yellow Rural happiness. Virginian Spiderwort Momentary hap- piness. Virffin's Bower Filial love. Volkamenia May you be happy. Walnut Intellect. Strat- agem. Wall-flower. ..'.... Fidelity in ad- versity. Water Lily. . Purity of heart. Water Melon Bulkiness. Wax Plant Susceptibility. Wheat Stalk Riches. Whin Anger. White Jasminei A miableness. White Lily Parity and mod- esty. White Mullein Good nature. White Oak Independence. White Pink Talent White Poplar Time. White Rose (dried) Death preferable to loss of in- nocence. Wortleberry Treason. Willow, Creeping Love forsaken. Willow, Water Freedom. Willow, Weeping Mourning. WiPow-Herb Pretension. Willow, French Bravery and hu- manity. Winter Cherry Deception. Witch Hazel A spell. Woodbine Fraternal love. Wood Sorrel Joy. Maternal tenderness. Wormwood Absence. Xanthium Rudeness. Per- tinacity. Xeranthemum Cheerfulnessun- der adversity. Yew Sorrow. Zephyr Flower Expectation. Zinnia Thoughts of ab- sent friends. 9 ^^IP'WW rv^Tn^'- T^-^TiT^ir^- IT y'WnW. rrr, . TTTl^. 'fT, ';■•, ■ ?•* .Trr"* " "'T ^T'™!'^*;™ 3riic letter §iritci\ (VERY position in life demands letter- wiiting. A letter is the great link between parents and children, between lovers, between friends ; while in business relations it makes fortunes, or mars them. A good letter must, firstly, be absolutely correct in every mechanical de- tail ; then style comes into question ; then the matter, which must be intelligible to the meanest as well as the highest understanding. The great art of letter- writing is to be able to write gracefully and with ease, and no letter should wear the appearance of having been laboriously studied. The first point to be observed in your letter is that you write in a clear, legible hand, a hand that anybody and everybody can read. You may fill your pages with the most exquisite and sparkling ideas, but if they cannot be read except to the torture of the peruser, your diamond thoughts lose all their glitter, and people to whom you write, instead of being anxious to receive a letter from you, will mentally groan at the very idea of its receipt, knowing the toil and trouble that awaits them in its perusal. Be patient, then, and plod on steadily until you write a bold, clear, clean hand, and never let a scrap of your writing pass from you that is not carefully executed. Never erase. It is much better, though wearj'ing the task, to com- mence all over again. An erasure is a sore to the eye. Orthography is next to be considered. Bad spelling is disgraceful, and many people spell ba<|ly from simple carelessness. Read carefully the works of the best authors. Write extracts from these works, and you will intuitively spell correctly. Your sense will become ofiended at a misspelt word. Use the simplest language. Always have a dictionary (pocket) beside you, but never consult it unless you are in doubt. Once consulted, you should remember the word ever afterward. Never divide your words into syllables at the end of the lines unless you cannot help s-'i^P lfP«?if^Pipp"?fl^afps!i«!' w'ivi!:Wf,'i'.ii>i!fAfi¥|!yi;i*P! '■" . 826 THE HOME. FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA it If you have space for the first syllable, let your hyphen be bold Thus: It is sometimes a great con- solation to me that, etc., etc. A word of one syllable must not be divided. Bring it bodily over to the next line. Compound words must be divided into the simple words composing them. Thus : War-whoop, not warw-hoop ; bread-stuff, not breadst-uff. OEAMMAB. Place your verbs correctly at all hazards. Never use the adverb for the adjective, or the adjective for the adverb. Never take liberties with the relative pronouns, or mingle in dire confusion tenses and moods. A careful study of the admirable giammar in this cyclopedia will keep the letter writer in the straight path. PUNCTUATION. In order to have the meaning of words readily understood, it becomes necessary to divide those words into paragraphs, sentences and clauses* by means of punctuation. As an instance of the absence of punctuation and the farcical result, just read this : Lost on King Street on Thursday evening last an umbrella by an elderly gentleman with a carved ivory head. Take the following rules and mark them well : Put a comma wherever you would make a trifling pause, were you speaking ; as, " He came, he saw, he conquered." A semicolon makes a longer pause, and an incomplete sentence ; as, " Julia is handsome ; Agnes is beautiful." The semicolon separates the sentence more distinctly than the comma. The colon marks a sentence which is complete in itself, but is followed by some additional remark ; as, " Shun vice : it will lead to ruin." The colon is also used to precede a quotation, and point it off from the rest of the sentence , as, Shakespeare says : " Assume a virtue, if you have it not." A period is used to denote that a sentence is complete ; as, " A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." The dash is used to denote a sudden pause, or abrupt change of sense as, " I have loved her madly, wildly — but why speak of her ? " w r^fffffffmrnrmm ^pp^(pwppwwwi^pi*p^ii^if?r mmmmm »i">ii^ CAPITAL LETTEBS. 327 The interrogation point is used only af^ a question ; as, " Why did you say so ? " The interjection point is used only to denote an exclamation ; as, " Alas ! all my joys have flown ! " The parenthesis is used to enclose a portion of a sentence which if left out would not destroy the sense ; as, " I value this flower (a faded flower) very highly." The apostrophe is used to mark the possessive case, and also the omis- sion of a letter or letters in a word ; as, " Frederick's hair is black," or, " Qen'l Grant is getting old." The carat is used to mark an omitted word, which word must be writ- ten immediately above it ; as, wet " What a day ! " '^ \ The hyphen is used to connect compound words, and at the end of a line shows that more syllables are carried over to the next line. Quotation marks are us$d before and after every quotation, to separate and define it ; as, " Many are called, but few are chosen." CAPITAL LETTERS. The capital letters only set : >art the sentences and paragraphs, but while their proper use adds greatly to the beauty of an epistle, their omis- sion or improper use will make the pages present a perfectly absurd appearance. Begin every paragraph with a capital letter. Begin every sentence following a period with a capital letter. Begin all proper names with a capital letter. Begin all titles, as Lieut. Governors, Vice-President, General, Doctor, or Captain, with a capital letter. Begin all names of places, as Montreal, St. Catharines, Niagara, with a capital letter. Begin the words North, South, East, West, and their compounds and abbreviations, as North-east, S. W.. with a capital letter. Begin the names of Deity and Heaven, or the pronoun used for the former, as, in His mercy — Thou, Father, with a capital letter. Begin all adjectives formed from the names of places or points of the compass, as English, Northern, with a capital letter. Begin every line of poetry with a capital letter. Begin all quotations with a capital letter. etiJi M " E ■ r^^'^'!^ tT 7^:j';f' niTT 328 THE HOME, FARM AND B13SINES8 OYCLOPiEDIA. Begin all titles of books, a^ usually each important word of the title, as, Collins' " Life of Sir John A. Macdonald." Begin the name of any historical event, as the Civil War, with a capi- tal letter. The pronoun I and the interjection must invariably bo written with a capital letter. Begin all the names of the months, as June, April, with a capital letter. Begin all addresses, as. Dear Sir — Dear Madam, with a capital letter. Capital letters must never be placed in the middle of a word ; never, except in accordance with the foregoing rules, in the middle of a sentence. STYLE. You cannot blindly follow any rules as regards style, as your style will ever be your o\M. Quote as little as possible, and be niggardly with your adjectives. Avoid long sentences, and florid language. Parentheses should be carefully punctuated ; as, " John (who is, as you are aware, a confirmed toper) is considerably better." ^ Be very careful not to repeat the same word. Tautology is a crime in writing. Read this and see how you like it : " Willie has come. Johnny will come to-morrow. Will you com£ and spend a day with us ? Make Susie com>e. Summer has come at last." This is tautology. Do not underline unless in very extreme casea " You know, darling, how intensely I love you," is perhaps excusable. Never abbreviate except in business. Dates should be given in figures, and money, in parentheses, thus ($10,000). Date carefully. Begin a letter this way : Winnipeg, Man., June 1st, 1883. or, Toronto, Sept. 7th, 1883. Avoid postscripts. They are only embarrassing. Take your envelope, and having neatly folded your letter, place it in the envelope, close the envelope and write in the most legible manner : Pfffi'fPBPII^ I ' Wl iillff If I up, !?«■ ,»« Vif'JiiBM' ■WIWl ^fPPWTlT' ^P^ jpi.iif ^1,1111 i«i iipi iiij u'l^in REPLIES 329 ^ Pu» Stamp KyfCi. her*. rleoiae Kyfcac/ean o, ^n/. BEFLIES. There is no greater mark of good-breeding and politeness, than the prompt reply to a letter. Never lose a moment, if possible, in replying to one. If the reply requires delay, write to acknowledge receipt of the letter. Never reply by proxy if you are able to write yourself. Never write on a half -sheet of paper. Avoid pedantry. Never write a congratulatory letter upon mourning-paper, even if you are in mourning. * Never try to patch an ill-formed letter. If you add yoi'.r own address to a letter, put it under your signature, thus : Very respectfully, Robert R. White, 154 R St., London, Ont. Never write an anonymous letter. Treat it with silent contempt. Never gossip. Friendly intelligence, if you are certain it is true, may be communicated. Date every letter clearly and carefully. It is often of the utmost im- portance, to know when a letter was written. Sit erect when writing, as, if you write constantly, a stoop will surely injure your figure and your health. We give examples of the forms of letters in general use. These will act as guides to the inexperienced. V '~%^r 1 ^yyfTfl ^ 330 f THE HOME, FAKM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiEDIA- LETTERS OF DfTRODUCnON. Never seal a letter of introduction. Mention the business in which the party whom you are introducing is or was engaged. Write the name of the party introduced in the left-hand corner of the envelope containing the introduction. Thus ; you wish to introduce Mr. Charles G. D. Roberts^ of Fredericton, N. B., to Prof. Qoidwin Smith, of Toronto. Direct your letter as below : If you want to be stylish, send your letter of introduction, with your card, by the servant at the private residence of the person to whom you Are introduced. Send a letter with your carrJ. if you present it at a mer- •chant's office. mTRODUOING ONE LALf TO ANOTHER (^4i4 ^f«i utiU ttUicauee tnu J«.al Autu/ ^au. QjAotneui Qt^ttiif, ct €<.•■<■ >>t v't'-i navt Aealt/*n« htaA do *nneA. af Ael tUMita mat Mti ttttutuie/ioK iotukkcvt o/ ecttMmlaOU / ^eaiuit to oom c/ you. OJ^tiu altfnUott ^ou inow /tf\ ,'tnUyta nH Aiau tn &cl«n(e ttuii A*. u. As your Vios- {)itality is proverbial, .uay I hope for u ittle slice of it for hii i ? And I look fur- ward to good reports trom both of you as to the ripening of a friendship the seed of which is now sown by Your very sincere friend, John O. Saxb. LETTERS ON BUSINESS. Letters on business should be brief, to the point, and clearly and cleanly written. No flourishes either in diction or penman- ship. There is no time for such ornamen- tation in' business. Ordering a supply of goods for Oonatiy. in the R£oiNA, N.W.T., June 1, 1883. Messrs Fulton, Miohib & Co., Toronto. GE^rrLBHBN, — I have just opened a large grpcery store in this place, snd the prospects of success seem assured. I should be happy to deal with your firm. I can rdfer you to Robinson & Charles, of 270 Front Street, Toronto. This being our first transaction, I shall be prepared to pay the Express Co. upon delivery of goods, if you will forward me your ao. with the usual cash discouut by a previous mail. Enclosed please find order, which I should wish filled as promptly as is con- sistent with your convenience. Very respectfully, R. M. Macabthy. Letter offering the MS. of a book to a Pub- lisher. Ottawa, April 2, 1833. Messrs. Hdnter, Ro.sb & Co., Publishers, Toi nto. Oeidtlembn, — I have just written a so- ciety novel of the present day, and wish to have it put upon the market as soon s« practicable. Please inform me if you are willing to publish it, and at what terms. This is my first novel, but under the name of " Daisy Davin " I have contribu- ted quite a number of short stories to the late Caiuidian Monthly, and other poi;ular publications. I may mention that my style is what h termed " bree:.cy, 'that is, bright and crisp. Awaiting an early reply, I am, gentle- men, Very tivly yours, (Mkm. ) ■). F. Murray. T!gaat..:M.i!£ g}&~, ; ^- "37^V^|«S'^S?^F '^ (7» 'wtT|'T>'W3j»,' , ;>! I-' -■ -•"rtt rjpi^ry.: 382 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. Reply. 25 Welunoton St., ) ToBONTO, April 4, 1883. ) MB8. J. F. MUBBAY. Dbab Madam, — Having made all our arrangements for publications for the year, we are compelled to decline the offor of your MS., and trust that you may be suc- cessful elsewhere. We are, dear Madam, Your obedient servants, HvNTEB, Rose & Co., Per D. A. R. Requesting the Settlement of an Account Babbik, July 30, 1883. Mb. T. W. Inobam. Deab Sib, — As we have a larr^a payment to make at the end of next week, and as vour account remains unsettled, we must beg of you to send us a check for !>ame by Tuesday next. We are reluctant to press you, but we are pressed ourselves. Very respectfully. Smith & Lbcwn. Requesting Payment of Rent. 27 Tobonto St., Tobonto. ) March 27, 1883. J Mb. Patbick K. Chiselhurst. Dbab Sib, — I must call your attention to the fact that, although your agreement for the house rented by you fiv m me stip- ulates monthly payments in advance, you have failed to pay for three months and are now in arrears $106. If you fail bO pay the account within six days I shall be reluctantly compelled to place the matter in the hands of my law- yer for collection. Very respectfully, Thomas Fbaseb. Fi-om a Lady In the Country ordertng Goods. Maida Valk, Inuebsoll, ) Jan. 18, 1882. ] Mf,89R8. Robert Walker & Co., King St. E., Toronto. GBiTTLEMEir,— Please send mo by Ex- press the following goods : 12 yards of green gauze. 24 yards of giiigham. 2 pair of six-button gloves, lavender colour, size 6|, Dent's make. 6 pocket handkerchiefs, t>lain white, with broad hem-stitched border. . Also please send pattern of black satin of a good quality, price marked. The goods must be sent to IngersoU by rail, and to Mr. William Gibson, who wiU pay C. O. D. Direct as follows : Mas. Wilson Topt, Maida Vale, Ingersol). To the Father of a Tonng Lady, asking her hand In Manlage. DvrFEBiN Avenue, Ottawa, > Mar. 12, '83. y Sib, — I venture to hope that you will call all your friendly feelings to my assist- ance, in considering a |/roposal I am about to lay before you, in which my ^ppiness is completely concerned. For a long time past your daughter, Eftie, has held a strong hold over my af- fections, and I have reason to believe that I am not indifferent to her. My position is such as to warrant my belief that I could support her in the style of comfort which she so well deserves, and which it has been your constant aim to provide for your children. As regards my character an'i disposition, I trust they are sufficient- ly ^ ell Known to you to give yon confi- dence in the prospect of your child's hap- piness. I have not, however, ventured on ariy express declaration of my feelings, with- out first consulting you on the subject, as I feel persuaded that the straightforward course ia always the bjst, and that a par- ent's sanction will nev- •wr LETTERS ON BUSINESS. 333 and honourable way in which you have addressed me in reference to my daugh- ter's hand. I have long since {terceived that your attentions to her were of a marked character, and that they appeared to give her much pleasure. I know no reason whatever to oppose your wishes, and, if I may judge from the manner ia which she received the communication from myself, you will find a by no means unwilling listener. Dine with us to-morrow at six o'clock, if you are not engaged, and you will then have an opportunity of pleading your own cause. Meanwhile, believe me, with every confidence in your integrity and good feeling, Yours most sincerely, William Parsons. To £. L. Sfrino, Esq. Unfavourable. Meadow Bank, March 13, 1883. Dear Sir : It is always painful to return an unfa- vourable answer, but such is unfortunate- ly my task on the present occasion. My daughter has for a long time been engaged to a gentleman whose character and position give her no cause to regret the engagement. At the same time she duly appreciates the compliment implied by your preference, and unites with me in the sincere wish that, as an esteemed friend, you may meet with a companion in every way calculated to ensure your hap- piness. Believe me, dear sir, Your sincere friend, William Parsons. To E. L. Spring, Esq. To a Widow firom a Widower. St. Catharine ot. , Montreal, Nov. ]9, 1883. My dear Madam : I am emboldened to lay open to you the present state of my fecilings, being so con- vinced of your good Bdnse and amiable dis- position, that I feel assured you will deal candidly with me in your reply. Like yourself, 1 have been deprived of the partner of my early life, and as I ap- proa**^ the middle state of existence, Z feel 9 and more the want of some kin- drtKi spirit to share with me whatever J ears are reserved to me by Providence, ly fortune is such as to enable me to sup- port a lady in the manner which I feel to be due to your accomplishments and posi- tion, and I sincerely hope that you will think carefully over my proposal ; and, if you can make up your mind to share my fortune and affections, I trust that no ef- forts will be wanting on my part to en- sure you the happiness you so well de- serve. I need scarcely say that an early answer- on a matter so much connected with my future happiness, will be a great favour to. My dear madam. Your devoted friend and admirer, Arthur Boswell. To Mrs. Vankouqhnet. A Young Man In Frlnoe Arthur's Landing to his Betrothed in Toronto. Prince Arthur's Landino, Dec. 13, 18— Dearest Elizabeth : Vou have doubtless received letters from me lately, describing my situation here, and stating the projects that I had under consideration. In one of those letters, al- lusion is made to a speculation in land in the neighbourhood of this place, with the remark that, if it were successful, I should be able to make good my promise, and claim you as the partnor of my joys and sorrows for life. My most sanguine ex- pectations have been more than realized. Herewith vou will receive a draft on the Ontario Bank, in your city, for $500, of which I pray you to make use in provid- ing such articles as may be necessary to replenish your wardrobe, in anticipation of our speedy marriage, after my return home. Pray present your dear mother with my affectionate regards, and say that I can never forget, now that I have the power, that it is my duty to assist and cherish her declining years. I also send some few trinkets, made of Leadville gold, which you will please present on my be- half to ynur sisters, as tokens of my bro- therly regard ; for such I now consider my relations toward them. With my kindest respects to all, and .(■=vfw^fv-:m-r,f": IvV- ;■ -•^n re?wKi^5Z «| '■,y,'''W^!f?iy^Vfvfj^^^^ •jr' 334 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiSDIA. I\ '■ tniBiing that I maj* soon be permitted to embrace my dearest, I remain Her devoted Mark Taplby. On a Blrtbd«y. London, June 1, 1683, My DXABEtT Fannib : How BAd it is that I am hindered from being with you on this dearest of all days of the yetr. Accept, dearest, the enclosed portrait. I feel that its original is too deeply stamped on your heart to require any effigy to re- mind you of him. It is, however, the most appropriate present I could offer to the cause of my happiness on this brightest oi all days. God grant that every succeeding year you may increase in all tbaii is charming in body and mind, and believe me, My dearest Fannie, Your own John. A Complaint July 10, 1883. Dbar Maudib : It i* with pain I write to you in aught ihat can seem like a strain of reproach, but I confess that your conduct last night both surprised and vexed me. You re- ceived Mr. Watson's attentions iu so marked a way that I feel it due to your- self to comment on your conduct. Be- lieve me, I am in no way given to idle jealousy ; still less am I selfish or un- manly enough to wish to deprive any girl on vhom I have so firmly fixed my affec- tions of any pleasure to be obtained in good society. But my peace of mind would be lost fur ever, did I believe that I had lost one atom of your affeotio^ns. Pray write and assure me that you still preserve y lur undivided affection for Your de-^oted but grjflved Fbbd. Seeking a Olerkslilit. Toronto, May 4. 1883. Gbntlbmex : — Perceiving by your au . ertise went in the Olobe that you are in want of a clerk, I beg to inclose testimonials, and venture to hope that from previous experience in the line of business you pursue I should be of some use in ycir establishment. My habits of life are such as to assure regularity in the discharge of my duties, and I can only assure you that, shouhl you honour me with your confidence, I shall spare no pains to acquit myself to your satisfaction. I remain, gentlemen, Your obedient servant, Harry Sanderson. To Mbssrs. Griffiths & Co. Application for Babaorlptlon to a Cbarlty. October 8, 1883. Sir [or Madam] : — I take the liberty of inclosing a prospectus of an institution which is likely to have some beneficial ef- fect upon the poor in our neighbourhood. [Herb Hate particulars.] From your well- know liberality, I trust you will excuse this appeal from a stranger in furtherance of an act of benevolence, and remain. Sir [or Madam], Your most obedient servant, Julia [or John] Smith. Declining. COILBOE AtBNUB, T0R0^T0, 29th October, 1883. Mr. Thomas Jones regrets exceedingly that the numerous applications for kind- red purposes near home render it impos- sible for him to comply with the request contained in Mr. [or Mrs.] 's letter of the 18th October. A friend in the Country Asking a City Friend About Board. GoRNWALL, August 14, 1883. Dear William— In a few days I will have occasion tc visit Montreal, and, be- ing a comparative stranger, I wish to be as near the business centre as possible, though located in a private boarding- house, as 1 1 %ve a strong aversion to tiotel life. My object in writing is to ask j ou to recommend me to some private board- ing-house, aad to engage rooms in advance of my arrival, so that I may proceed thither at onoe on landing from the oars. Leaving the aeloctinn entirely to yourself. LETTERS ON BUSINESS. 335 ftvd hoping to hear from you soon, I re- main yours faithfully, IsAAO Jknkinh. ApiiUoatlon for a Loan. Stkatfobd, July 27, '83. Dbak Sir — I am temporarily embar- raaaed through the failure of my Toronto correspondent to remit. The sum of $2,- 000 would relieve my present necessities, but I dislike borrowing moneyof profession- al lenders, and would rather solicit the aid of some one of my numerous friends. My first thought was of yourself ; and, there- fore, my object in writing is to ask if you can spare me the required su.a without in any way interfering with your business arrangements 7 You may rely upon it re- turned to you on the 15th prox., and perhaps before that time. Pray reply at your earliest convenience, and oblige Your obedient servant, Gkokob Whitb. To Philip Brown, Esq. Beply In the Afflrmatlve. YoNOB St., Toronto, July 30, '83. Dbar Sir — Your letter of yesterday was duly received, and it gratifies me to be able to say that you can have the loan asked for. Inclosed you will find a check for thg amount, which you will return at the date named and oblige, Yours, very sincerely, P. Brown. To Gbo. Whitb, Esq. Declining to Lend Honey. Quebec, April 5th, 1883. Mt Dbar Sir — I have always made it a principle in life never to borrow or lend my Aa money, not ev«n when members of own family have Shakespeare says : been concerned. " Neither a borrower nor a lender be, For loan oft loses both itself and^end." I therefore trust you will excuse con- duct which may seem harsh and uncor- teoas on my part, but which I have ever found to be the safest, and, in the long: run, the kindest course for all parties. I remain, my dear sir. Yours very faithfully, Joseph Johnson. To Howard Welu, Esq. Solldtinflr Renewal of a Promissory Note. Paris, Ont., May 7, '83f. Obntlbhbn — You have in your posses- sion my note for $1,000, payable Alay 14, which I am sorry to say I cannot meet at maturity, owing to a combination of cir- cumstances adverse to my interests, and not anticipated. If you will do me tho favour to renew it for ninety days, with interest added, I do not doubt my ability to redeem it when due. A compliance- with this request will confer an obligation upon, and oblige. Your obedient servant, Thohas Moran. To Messrs. Sadlier & Co., 30 William St., N.Y. Offering a Loan of Money for Business Purposes. Bellevillb, Dec. 15, '83. Dear Robert — Kowing that you are desirous of starting iit business for your- self, I write to say that it is in my power to offer yoii a loan of two thousand dollars ($2,000) without interfering in any way with my own business expenditures. I trust that you will let me have a friend's privilege, and accept the money on such terms as will best suit you. With best wishes for your success. I am your friend, Austin Kemp. Robert Rowb, Esq. Letters of condolence, though a neces- sity between friends, are very difficult to- compose, since the more earnestly and touchingly they are written, the more deeply wUl they probe the wounds still bleeding under the stab of affliction. The shorter such letters are, the better. Let them be short and sincere, and always wind up with a hope that Providence will assuage the grief with which it has pleased. Him in his far-seeing wisdom to afflict your friend. v.- jr^-V'Tr* ■ ■^"XSi ' i — , .-^^...^^ v^s^ \fyj}^}f^^?IJw^%mm^^^^^^ ?^:'. ■'. S36 TBE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. REPLIES TO ADVERTISEMENTS. In replying to advertisements never omit to mention the name of the paper in which the advertisement appeared, also its date, and a brief allusion to the matter in the advertisement. Be as concise as possible, covering the ground in a few well-chosen sentences. Book-Keeper. 128 Isabella St., Toronto, October 20, 1883. To Messrs. Frank Smith & Co. : Gentlemen — In reply to your adver- tisement in this day's Telegram for a com- petent book-keeper, I respectfully befi; to offer myself as candidate for that position. I have been in the employment of Mr. Thomas Thompson, in this city, the large dry-goods store — in the capacity of book- keeper for the last three years, and am about to leave oh the 1st proximo, as Mr. Thompson is about to retire from busi- ness. Mr. Thompson has authorized me to refer to him in reference to character and ability. I can also refer to Messrs. Rose 4& Thorn, Equity Chambers, with whom I clerked for a year and a half. Hoping to be fortunate enough to suit your requirements, I am, gentlemen, Bespectfully, Joseph Robinson. Oeneral Employment. Fresco rr, 11th Sept., '83. Sir — I hasten to reply to your adver- tisement in the Montreal Star of to-day. I am most desirous of obtaining employ- ment, and would not consider present em- olument so much an object as the prospect of a permanent and respectable situation. I am a young man (age 21), and single. I have received a good commercial educa- tion, and am versed in book-keeping and^ accounts generally. In other respects I am willing to render myself generally useful,' and, although I have not hitherto filled a situation, I doubt not but that in a short time I shall be able to fulfil any duties assigned to me. In the event of your doing me the hono'ir to select me for the preferred em- ployment, I oould furnish you with satis- factory testimonials as to character, and could, if necessary, provide guarantees for fidelity. Trusting that 1 may have the honour of hearing from you in reply, I remain, sir. Your obedient servant, Joseph L'Ebteanoe. To W. Henry Moroan, 20 St. James St. From a Young Man to a Friend Soliciting a Situation. Dear Edward St. John, N. B., March 28, 1883. When you left Halifax, you were kind enough ij promise that should it be in your power to forward my interest in any manner you would feel a pleasure in so doing. I am now in want of a position, my former employer having sold his busi- ness, and his successor having, as he in- forms me, a sufficient number of hands fur all the work he is likely to have. If, therefore, you should hear of any situation or employment which you consider likely to suit me, either in my owa. businesss, that of a clerk, or in any other in which I can make myself useful, your recom- mendation would greatly oblige, and be of material service to. Dear Edward, Yours very truly, John James. Asking Permission to Refer to a Parson. Newcastle, July 7, '83. Dear Sir : As I have had the honour of being known to you for some years, during which period I trust my conduct has im- pressed you favourably, I take th') liberty of soliciting at your hand the following favour : Messrs. Sibtborp, of Beaver Street, New York, are in want of a correspondent at liondoi^ and as I am about to proceed there oc some affairs of my own, and shall probably take up my residence in that capital for some years, I am anxious to secure a post which appears to me in every •JfWff^HJP.' «'y 'li.^l' "UP*' '■' -< >}^ " :i I »*V Itf,-''' REPLIES TO ADVEBTISEMENTS. d87 way eligible, and accords with my riews exactly. Aa a matter of course, Messrs. Sibthorp desire testimonials as to my capacity and inteority, and as you are in a position to speak positiyjly on these points, I have written to anTyou whether I may so fnr trespass on your kindness as to mention your name by way of reference. Should you kindly grant this request, I need scarcely assure you that my endea- vour will be to prove both to Messrs. Sib- thorp and yourself that you have not been mistaken in your opinion of me, while I shall ever feel grateful for this further in- stance of the interest evinced by you in the welfare of Tour truly obliged, Waitbe MOTT. To Mr. Georoe Lewis, M.P. Ottawa. Clerk. 29 Grove St., Quebec. ) November 16, 1883. ) Mk. Isaac Waters. Sir, — I see by this day's Chronicle that you are in want of a competent clerk, and I respectfully beg to apply for the posi- tion. Owing to the financial difficulties of my late employers, Messrs. Kendrick & Worts, with whom I was clerk for eight years, I am out of employment. I can refer to either of these gentlemen for a testimonial as to iny industry, good con- duct and ability. I may add tiuA T am ", total abstainer. Hoping to receive a favourable reply, I am. Respectfully, John Collins. Cook. 100 West 28th St., New York, March 18, 1883. Mrs. William How*kd. Respected Madam, — Having seen your advertisement for a plain Cook in this day's Worid, I respectfully apply for the place. I can cook plain joints and do all man- ner of plain cookiiiff, as my present em- ployer, Mrs. Jamiw Boswell, is willing to testify. As Mrs. Boswell is going to Eu- V rope on the 1st of April, I will be out of place on that day. A line to Mrs. Bo»* well will satisfy all inquiries in regard to my character and capacity. Respectfully, Jane Matihews^ Ooventess. Beverlkt St., Torontov July 27, '83. Mrs. E. F. Jarvis. Madam, — In reply to your advertise- ment in to-day's Mail for a Gk>vemess to teach three httle girls French, (German and English, I hasten to inform you that I am graduate of Pickering College ; that I have resided one year in Paris and five months in Vienna, sojourning in both capitals for the purpose of completing my knowledge of French and G^rmap. I have been Governess in the family of Mr. George F. Witmore, but owing to the death of my dear little pupil, their only daughter, Ada, I have been thrown out of employment. In addition to my College and Academy testimoniids, I beg to refer to Mrs. Witmore, Holly Park, Montretd, and to the Rev. Mr. Brooks, St. Mat- thew's Church. Hoping to be favoured by your selec- tion, I am, madam, Yours respectfully, Miriam J. Packard. A few Lines Aooompanylng a 01ft. awkodimq gift. 200 Bloor St., ITobkvillb; June 18, 1883. Nelly Shuter sends her best love, and best wishes, to Susie Lorimer, and a little bracelet as a souvenir of an event that Nelly trusts will ever prove as happy and auspicious as she wishes it to be. Obrlstenliis: 01ft Heath HousSy June 18, '83. God-papa sends little Mamie a coral, to enable her to cat her teetn, but not the acquaintance of Joseph Chambeps. '^^Wm^^^^'^'wrw^ ^p^^i!s^<^^"'*pp^^;^^9piipiff"**^i 888 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS OTCLOPiEDIA. Jlomn, 16 Spadina Avbkvi, 19 July. Roses become Miss Irwin so much, that Mr. Bamett earnestly hopes to see the accompanying bunch in Miss Irwin's cor- sage this evening at the Qrand Opera 'House. Kaslo. 13 Ohsstnxit St. , Hamilton, 28th November, '83. Mr. John Strachan presents his com- pliments to Miss Delamor^and begs to send her a few selections frMn the operas, her singing last ni^ht at Mr. Hamlvn's having reminded him of the most celebra- ted prima donnat. VAEIOUS FORMS OF INVITATIONS. NOTE CF INVITATION. to tyf()M ^ihmnce ^y^ocy^e and ite^ {Aad Ae ma^^ ^o lAe ^^^^Tilicu^lw^a/ Q^a^i^den^. Qict^i^ei^ Mace, <:J^il. ^Mi.. NOTE IN REPLY. mr ^fmm? VARIOUS FOBMS OP INVITATION& 3sa NOTE OF INTROOUCriON. ^^a, %n> /M. ///J". 'Beat Sk. J^nu Mpoui ^ou nKiu dncut Atm u/e€€ ^e ncan€u a, Aiecea^ta /y ncm ad u/e// ad ^u fuid ^«?/^ /tu/u, ifam«€€ ^. //t/uamd. ^Ij^lff^jpfffw^'^ws^^ nt.ii-' . S40 THE HOME. FARM AND BUSINESS OTOLOPiEDIA. ( C^(i^f% (S /o, 6 o c^c^y /i. *», Wtdntsdays, \ Nov. j6th and 30th, \ from S to 11 P.M. Dec. 14th and aSth. ) C^raAti'nee. POUnOAL. J£t. GticurZes (Pratt requests the pleasure of your oompany at JTo. 2,82, Sherboume Street, 01% Thursday Evening, J\laroh 16th, at 9.30 o'olook, to meet Hon. Oliver J^Ioujat immediately after his address at the Opera House. ^r^vmfp^'i'ii" «•■■-'. VABIOUS FORMS OF INVITATIONS. 841 r. and its. imnts lUim request the pleasure of your oompany at " The Castle," Montreal^ on Thursday, JTo- vemher 15th, 1B8S, at 9 p.m., to celebrate the 2>5th Anniversary of their marriage and his 60th birthday, jilso to meet ^r. dund Mfs. James ^llan, Jr. ^rtkur ®. Charlton, ipi«^ jCtttw i5t^, 1883. AT SPRINQFIELO, ILL., (Jgeb 15 Jtar0 anb 5 JftottthB. Brampton, Jun* i6th, 1S83. w IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I ■-IM ■ 50 l"^* ^ tii 12.0 21 2.2 1.8 1.25 1.4 ^ < 6" — ► V] VQ ^^ '^ > 7 "«V^ /^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14380 (716) 872-4503 \ JM^HimmiilUHIi l. JIW. MM lUJJJI ^f^l 342 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. \ Qy/ii, tf- eJiiti. ienaeAl me fwnctii c/ Mtii Aicdence en &ueia€M' SutnttM), oyVouetHOel fUtecnmj /lent Siaht iintU eleven o'e/ocR, lo tneel i/ie ®?««. Shtnei/ia/ fiant, S}.W., ¥ ^tuen'd '^{niveUitu. ^.^.r.iP. 1863. 1883. ^m, 0()»Hn9. v^n-ztceta-A ^-0ci-'C/"I"JKW--J-WH"- ■"■'.^'1 '■ l'...v.-. Spcrchrs. c^^ SPEECH should be short and to the j)oint. Remember that brevity is the soul of — a speech. A long speech, unless the speaker be exceptionally eloquent, or the oc- casion exceptionally mandatory, is one of the greatest of possible inlictions. Some men love to hear themselves talk, and, quite oblivious of the feelings of their listeners, continue to drone out laboured sentences and weary pla- titudes until politely coughed or buzzed down. These men ought to be indicted as nuisances. The specimen speeches which we present in this Cyclopredia are merely meant to act as guides. They show the form of speech most popular, and give the length that is likely to be received with approval. Of course there are occasions when a long speech is absolutely necessary. The toasts and sentiments embrace all subjects, and are suited to occasions of a festive character. A Public Officer, on retiring, Is Presented with a Souvenir. Sir, — Your friends — and their name is logion — cannot permit you to retire into pri- vate life without a direct expression of their esteem and regard. I am desired on their part to present you with the accompanying as a very slight token indeed of their appreciation of so admirable an officer, so good a citizen, and so perfect a gentle- man. Reply. Sir, — To have won your approval, and that of the friends you so kindly represent, is indeed sweeter to me than anything else that life, with all its prizes, could offer. I am bold enough to say that I have endeavoured to win the good-will of my fellow - citizens of all grades and classes, but 1 am modest enough to assure you this gracious, superb, and totally unexpected offering so completely affects me, as to leave me poor in speech, but rich in thankfulness and gratitude. My children and children's children shall treasure this souvenir, as the prize won in the big tight by at least the honest efforts of their sire. The Ladles. Where is the man who, upon one occasion or another, has not been called upon to respond to the toast of ' ' The Ladies ? " The following will enable the bashful youth to train his ideas in regard to the subject, and to prepare him with a reply when the mine shall have been sprung upon him. A ready response to this most popular of all m T'llllllBllill \%\ i\ '< ,,it M , l' J „i 'M ii !t[ •'ill 'I 'f aiiijiii!'" If" I .,■! '■ ■ I 1 'A 1 T ■ 1, i"'i »iriv,„!iii 11,1 iHH'i' hn ;- lam I 'I! ''I' Ell^lili iliilllllll '^iii'!iii 111 Mill iJSiill rii'li'tl'i.'™ hill' ill '^SilJ I |B» 5-^§] , 1 ■■ t; !il i;:;LiW j| i II-, SPEECHES. 345 toaqts is as necessary as it is graceful and manly; so let there be no hemming or hawing, no hesitations, stutteringc or stammerings, but start to your feet at once and dash into the subject as though you were enchanted at the privilege : Mr. Chairman and Gextlembn — The high, the glorious privilege has been accorded me of replying to the toast of "The Ladies." You could not have selected a better man. Impossible! This you will say is rather cheeky of me ; but when I tell you that there breathen not a man who reveres, loves, and adores the sex so much as I do, I ask you in all honesty, could the chance of replying to the toast have fallen upon more deserving shoulders ? The ladies, God bless them ! what would we do without them — that nearer, clearer, dearer heaven of stars ! In their smiles lie our sunshine, in their tears our anguish, in their beauty our heartaches. To the ladies we owe all the refining influences of our lives. They are the bright flowers by the wayside, the quite too tenderly utter beings, who make, mar, and marry us. Then here, gentlemen, is my response to the toast of The Ladies. May they ever shine like stars in our firmament, never cease to captivate us, and, when we desire it, of rewa' ding us. The ladies, God bless them ! Another Reply. The toast to which I have the honour of responding is one that awakes in the manly heart the latent chivalry of manhood. The toast of The Ladies embraces womanhood, the mother, the wife, the daughter, the sister, and if you will, gentlemen, the cousins and the aunts. Sir Walter Scott has beautifully written : " woman ! in our hours of ease, TJncertain, coy, and Lard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made ; When pain and anguish rack the brow, A ministering angel thou ! " What an admirable delineation of woman's character ! In our hours of ease, on the stoop, or by the stove, there is no doubt of it, gentlemen, that she is uncertain, extre- mely coy, and infernally hard to please — I mean at times — while as for her variability, she is as whirly-giggy as a weather-cock on a windy March morning. But here is the other side of the shield, the silver one. Have any of you ever been ill ? Have any of you ever been smitten to the earth by grief or misfortune ? I hope not ; but if such has been your bitter experience, turn back on your memories for the tender sympathy, the unfailing devotion, the ceaseless graciousness of woman. Gentlemen, this is a theme upon which, like the brook, I could " run on for ever ;" yet, delightful as it is, time flies, and perhaps the time that I am spending in reply to the toast of The Ladies, could be far better spent in their company. Gentlemen, I return you my most heart- felt thanks for being called upon by you to reply to such an important and gracious toast. Presentation of a Piece of Plate to a Public OfficiaL Sib, — It affords me intense pleasure to represent a committee, who in turn represent your numerous friends and admirers, and ou their behalf to present you with this •• as a very slight token of their appreciation of the admirable and praiseworthy alii i'ill 846 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. manner in which you have discharged the onerous and responsible duties appertaining to your position. Your high character, integrity, and zeal have notonly won the esteem and confidence of your friends, and of those brought into immediate contact with you, but have radiated far and wide, so that you have reached the position — one that is not only a credit to yourself but to the country at large. That you may long continue in the service which you so admirably adorn is the nrish of the many to whom your virtues are as household words. With this souvenir let me, on the part of those whom I represent, wish you health, happiness and prosperity. Mb. • AND Gentlemen Reply. I need hardly say with what gratitude I accept this splendid gift — a gift which is dearer to me than all the "gold of Tnd," since it comes from a set of friends whose endorsement on a bad bill no amount of treasure could purchase. Gentlemen, my aim in life has been to do what is right, to labour with earnestness, to win on the merits. My efforts have been crowned with success, and in this superb souvenir, I recognise my crown of victory. Gentlemen, your too flattering recognition will but serve as a greater impetus to exertion, and, rest assured that no effort on my part shall be wanting to repay in the fullest measure of my capacity the compliment it has pleased you this day to bestow upon me. Presentation to a Teacher by the Young Lady Pupils. Dear Teacher : It devolves upon me to offer you, in the name of the young ladies of this school, a slight token of our esteem and regard. To myself it is a source of immense pleasure to be made their mouthpiece on this occasion, since my sincere delight may make some amends for my many shortcomings. I am not now addressing you as our teacher, but as our friend, our dear, trusted, and very much tried friend ; for how often have we not tried your temper and your forbearance ! Dear Teacher, we will ever keep your imnge enshrined in our hearts, and shall look back to the school, not as an abode of penance, but rather of pleasure, since your kindness and your amiability have so rend- ered it — our studies having been illuminated by your patient graciousness. The little gift we offer you is of no intrinsic value, but it is rich in love, and gratitude, and res- pect. Please accept it, and with it our united hopes that your life will ever be as happy as you have made ours. Reply. My Dear Pupils : I find that my heart is so anxious to speak that it has almost paralyzed my lips. Yes, it is indeed my heart that returns thanks to yours, for I know how pure, gentle, gener- ous, strong, and true your hearts are, and my heart says to yours, " Oh, how deeply grateful I am for this tender mark of your affection ! " My dear pupils, if you have been a little inclined to — what shall I call it t not idleness — no, no — well, a word from me ever brought you back from the plucking of the flowers of fancy, and a rebuke was but a reminder that you should tread the path of study for yet a little while. My life has been rendered doubly pleasant in the sunshine of your youth, and that I shall hold a placd in your esteem and affection is indeed a delightful reward. That I thank you for your gift it is needless to say, Ah ! would that one spark of eloquence of some of the masters over whom we have studied together were given to me now, to let you SPEECHES. 347 know what I feel on this occasion, which shall ever be remembered as one of the bright- est resting-places in my journey through life. A Bachelor. Ladies and Gentlemen: It seems rather hard that I, an unfortunate bachelor, should be singled out to reply to this toast. Surely the misfortune of being unable to meet a fair one to share my lot ought to have won your sympathy, and to have left me unnoticed, save by what the poets are pleased to term the " passing tribute of a sigh." Ladies, it is no fault of mine that I am unmated. I detest, abhor, loathe bachelor- hood — would that I could find stronger terms of detestation — and if Fate, Kismet, Destiny, call it what you will, were to place some charming blushing maiden, such as I see around this board to-night, in my path, I would consider myself the most blessed of human mortals. What more contemptible being than the old bachelor ! who so lonely,, who so uncared for, who so infamously selfish ! Of course, ladies, I allude to those cravens who have feared to risk their fate on that sweet small word, " Yes." I must myself confess to a certain cowardice, and, with Sir Walter Raleigh, exclaim, " Fain would I climb but that I fear to fall," Oh, if some fair lady would but say, '• If thy heart fail thee do not climb at all ! " That I live in hope, white blossomed Hope, I do not deny, and whatever be my fate now, in the presence of such charming and beauti- ful witnesses, I denounce bachelorhood and despise the bachelor. The Host Gentlemen : Fill your glasses till the beaded bubbles at the brim topple over. This is a toast that to honour is a sacred duty. I give you the health of our host — God bless him! Reply. Gentlemen : I thank you most heartily for the manner in which you have drank the toast of my health. I assure you from my heart that I never feel so happy as when I see myself surrounded by my friends, and to behold one's friends enjoying themselves is a sighb fit for the gods. In the battle of life, which we are all compelled to fight, it becomes necessary to halt occasionally, stop by the wayside, and refresh. This brief snatching of pleasure at its best, makes us all feel that there is something worth living for, and that life without friends would indeed be but a dismal blank. I again thank you for your gracious good fellowship, and promise you that no effort shall be wanting on my part to enable you to propose the same toast, under the same circumstances, again, again, and yet again. A Distinguished Quest. Gentlemen: A duty, and a most pleasant one, devolves upon me of proposing the health of a very distinguished gentleman, who has honoured us with his presence this evening. Mr. has done us the very great favour of joining our circle, and we feel the most intense pleasure in doing honour to a citizen who has so justly elevated himself in the opinions and good wishes of his fellow-countrymen. Were Mr. absent I could talk about him for " a long hour by Shrewsbury clock," but as he is present I will endeavour to spare his blushes, and come at once to the drinking of his health in a bumper. Gentle- men, long life, prosperity and happiness to our distinguished guest, Mr. . Three times three and a tiger ? Take the time from me ! Hip, etc. %; H i 9 «48 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.EDTA. Reply. Mb. Chairman and Gentlemen: Our worthy host intimated that he wished to spare my blushes. Now it is so long since I blushed, that I forget the sensation, but I declare that I could find this no occa- sion to blush, save for very pleasure, since to be thus introduced, and thus toasted is indeed an occasion so pleasurable to me, that it shall ever remain impressed on the tablets of both my memory and my heart. It is indeed a source of intense gratification ^o me to find that my little efforts, so far as they have gone, are appreciated, and by gentlemen such as I see around this board. True it is that I have done but little ; but, gentlemen, I assure you my object is to do a great deal, and failing in that, I have but done my share. If, however, I am to do my share in this evening's bout, I am extremely gratetul to our respected chair- man, for giving me an opportunity of speaking so early in the evening, as later on — well, least said sooner mended. Wedding-day ADnlversary. This is indeed an occasion where a speech is utterly unnecessary, for the fact of our being here speaks so eloquently, that the words even of a Demosthenes or a Cicero would fall flat, stale, and unprofitable. Ladies and gentlemen, just cast a glance at that happy man, our host, and that beau- tiful lady, our hostess. See the " heavenly assenting smile" that speaks of the teud- «rest devotion, of a happiness those who wed whom they love, alone can know. The sunshine of unalloyed felicity is a nimbus to their lives, and it is well that, as the clock Btrikes another year upon their wedded bliss, we should be here to congratulate and say, God bless them both. That their journey of life will be always as smooth as it is now, and that they may «ver be protected from storm and strait, is the sentiment I would couple with the health of our dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. , on this the anniversary of their wed- ding. Reply. My very dear Friends : As a rule, no husband is perfectly safe in replying for his wife, since that much-to- be respected party is usually so capable of replying for herself, and as on too frequent occasions, her sentiments differ a little from his. On this occasion, however, I reply for my dear wife, knowing that every word I say will be endorsed by her, and that «very beat of her heart is in accord with mine. This is indeed a very joyous anniversary. It recalls the delicious rapture of the moment when I first could call my cherished partner by that sacred and endearing term of wife. It recalls the moment when she placed hor happiness in my hands ; and, my dear friends, I ask of you if that smile which puckers round her mouth now, does not do me infinite justice ? If I have not been disappointed in her, I trust in God she has not been disappointed in me, and as years pass around, and. Darby and Joan b'ke, we descend the hill, may this anniversary ever prove a resting-place for happy retros- pection. Crystal Weddlncr. In this age of transparency, when glass has arrived at such perfection, it behooves us upon this, the anniversary of the crystal wedding of our dear friends, to " hold the mirror up to nature," and let them view themselves in the glass we now place before SPEECHES. 349 them. The lady smiles, as well she may, for Time's glass has not shaken out a single sand, and the fifteen years that have passed since she made our host the happiest of men, have left scarce a trace upon her pellucid brow. The crystals which we present our dear friends upon this auspicious and delightful occasion, are but a type of the transparency and brightness of their Uvea. May they never look on life " as through a glass darkly." May the goblets which stand upon the- festive board ever brim with the nectar distilled from love and harmony, and may these glass pitchers, and bowls, and decanters serve as crucibles through which their silver and golden anniversaries may yet be passed, and in this joyous and sympathetic company. Reply. Dear Friends : True it is that we have been married fifteen long years, yet it seems to me that is just as young, just as fresh, just as lovely as when, on this day fifteen years ago, I took her for better or for worse. Yet, dear friends, I like this celebration. It reminds- us that we have reached one of the great resting-places on the line, and that, whilst wa look back with intense pleasure upon our journey, we also anticipate a great deal more farther on the road. It is indeed a source of intense gratification to us to find that, after fifteen years, so many friends came to visit us as we rest by the wayside, bring- ing gifts and bidding us to be of good eheer. These anniversaries are a sacred insti- tution, and as you were good enough to express a hope that these beautiful goblets might prove crucibles, let me now engage each and every one of you, not only to our silver and gold, but to our diamond weddings. I now drink your healths, thanking you for my fifteen-year partner from the bottom of my heart. Silver Wedding. Ladies and Gentlemen : On a certain day, just twenty-five years ago, a certain lady and gentleman entered for the race of life, and they have, I am delighted to declare, won the plate. Behold it ! [Points to gifts.] They have, to continue the parlance of the turf, run neck and neck, and come in to this the winning-post in the easiest of possible canters. Ladies and gentlemen, let us drink to the winners, and let us earnestly hope that they may be matched for the gold plate, and that we may be present when the " little event "' comes ofi^ Ladies and gentlemen, need we say how deeply we congratulate our dear friends ? Is not this occosiou a lesson to mnids and bachelors 7 Never were there words more applicable, " Go and do likewise." I shall conclude, for I see that you are all eager to do honour to my toast, by quoting Sheridan : " Ah, sure a pair were never seen So justly formed to meet by nature." Their healths — God bless them ! Golden Wedding. This is indeed a grand occasion, and one which, while it brings joy and thankfulness to our hearts, bears with it one of the most beautiful and touching lessons in the book of life. Our respected and venerable friends have indeed reached the golden age of maturity. Hand in hand have they aecended the hill, hand in hand are they descending into the flV 5:1; > 350 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. valley, a valley lighted with the undying and unshifting lamp of faithfulness, love and devotion. What a privilege for us to be here tu witness this beautiful sight, to see the bride and bridegroom of to-day in soul, in heart, the bride and bridegroom of this day half a century ago ! Time has sown fresh flowers in their dear old hearts ; time has garlanded their brows with choicest flowers ; time has but mellowed their affections which, like good wine, have but improved with age. We have come here to felicitate them upon the fiftieth anniversary of their marriage, to wish them many a long year yet before they snap the golden link that bound them together ; that their bark may sail upon a golden sea, tind that their sunset may be golden, in our united sentiment. Congratulating a Candidate. Sir, — It it not in mortals to command success, but, what is better, they ahould «ndeaTour to deserve it. You have been successful because you have deserved it, and we come to exchange congratulations, since whilst we rejoice for you, you undoubtedly rejoice with us. We have won a proud victory, but much of the glory is due to our standard-bearer. That you will conscientiously and worthily fill the ofiBce which has been bestowed upon you is beyond the region of doubt. We have done honour to ourselves by proposing so clear-headed aud able a candidate, and you, sir, will do honour to us by pursuing in your new position that pure and unsullied line of conduct which has this day led us to nominate you for election. We do not attempt to exult over the defeated candidate. We can afford to be magna- nimous, and since we are now so worthily represented, we feel assured that the enemy will regard you as the exponent of their opinions, as much as we shall. Sir, we cor- dially congratulate you on a well merited success, and we congratulate you, and con- gratulate the good cause. Reply. Gentlemen : Deeds, not words, is my motto. That I thank you, and the energetic workers in the good cause which has led to this triumph, a triumph in which I am personally inter* «sted, need scarcely be said. I am as yet an untried man, but it is my purpose to prove to you that your votes of to-day have not been thrown away, and that you have honoured an individual, who will at least endeavour to prove his gratitude by head, heart, and unflagging work. The good cause has indeed triumphed, and I pledge my- self that the trust you have this day reposed in me shall lose nothing from being placed in my hands. I shall endeavour to the best of my poor ability to walk in the straight path, and to discharge the duties appertaining to my office without fear or favour. Once more I thank you for the high honour you have done me. ^hc |lulc0 of ^thnk m\b ^)ob3 to €onbuct ORGANIZING ASSOCIATIONS. 'HEN it is advisable to form a society, club, or other asso- ciation for any specific purpose, those who agree in regard to its formation may meet upon private notice or public call. The mode of organizing the meeting is similar to that of any other. As soon as the meeting has been organized, and the chairman announces that it is ready to proceed to busi- ness, some one of the originators, previously agreed upon, should rise, and advocate the formation of the club or society required for the purpose set forth in the call, and end by moving the appointment of a committee to draft a constitution and by- laws. This committee should be instructed to report at the next meeting. A convenient time of adjournment is fixed on, and if there be no further business, the meeting adjourns. When the time for the second meeting arrives, the same officers con- tinue, without any new motion. If either be absent, his place is supplied, on motion, by some other. The Committee on the Constitution and By- laws reports. If the constitution is not accepted, those present suggest amendments. As soon as it has taken the required shape, it is adopted, and signed by those present. The by-laws are treated in the same way. The society is now formed, but not fully organized. The officers pro- vided for by the constitution have now to be elected. This may be done at that meeting, or the society may be adjourned over for that purpose. So soon as it has been done, the chairman of the meeting gives way to the newly-elected president, or, in his absence, to a vice-president ; the secre- tary of the meeting vacates his seat, which is taken by the newly elected secretary or secretaries, and thus the organization of the new bod^ is complete. 852 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. FOEMS OF CONSTITUTIONS. A constitution is the formal written agreement, making the fundamental law which binds the parties who associate. In preparation of this, useless words should be avoided. The constitution, after having been adopted, should be engrossed in a blank book, and signed by the members. Amendments or alterations should be entered in the same book, with the date of their adoption, in the shape of a copy for the minutes ; and a side-note inserted in the margin of the constitution, opposite the article amended, showing on what page the amendment may be found. LYCEUMS OR INSTITUTIONS. Preamble. — Whereas, experience has shown that knowledge can be more readily acquired by combination of effort than singly, we, whose names are hereunto annexed, have agreed to form an association, to be known as [here insert title], and for its better government, do hereby estab- lish the following constitution: Article I. — The name, style, and title of this association shall be [here insert name], and its objects shall be the increase and the diffusion of knowledge among its members. Article II. — 1. The officers of this association shall consist of a presi- dent, two vice-presidents, a corresponding secretary, a recording secretary, a treasurer, a librarian, and a curator, who shall be elected annually on [here insert time of election and mode, wJtether by open voice or by ballot], 2. The said officers shall hold their offices until their successors shall have been elected ; and their powers and duties shall be similar to those of like offices in like associations. Article III. — There shall be appointed by the president, immediately after his election, by and with the consent of the association, the follow- ing standing committees, to consist of five members each, namely: on finance, library, museum, lectures, and printing, who shall perform such duties and take charge of such business as may be assigned to them by vote of the association. Article IV. — 1. Any person residing within [here state limits], who is above the age of twenty-one years, may become a resident member of this association, by consent of a majority of the members present at any stated meeting succeeding the one at which his name shall have been proposed ; any person residing within the limits aforesaid may be chosen in like FORMS OF CONSTITUTIONS. 353 manner, a corresponding member ; and any person who is eminent in sci- ence or literature, may be elected an honorary member. 2. Each and every resident member, upon hid election, shall sign this constitution, and pay over to the recording secretary the sum of [here in- sert the sum], and shall pay the like sum annually in advance ; but no dues or contributions shall be demanded of corresponding or honorary members. Article V. — 1. This association shall be divided into the following sections, namely : 1. Natural Science ; 2. Arts ; 3. History ; 4. Agricul- ture and Horticulture ; 5. Mental and Moral Philosophy ; 6. General Literature ; to each of which sections shall be referred all papers or busi- nese appropriate to its department ; and to one or more of these sections each member, immediately after his election, shall attach himself. 2. Each section shall report, from time to time, upon the business in- trusted to it, as this association shall direct. Article VI. — This association shall meet monthly [here insert time], and at such other tinies as it may bo called upon by the president, upon the written requepc of six members; of each of which meetings due notice shall be given, and at each and all of these meetings, six members shall constitute a quorum for the transaction of business. Article VII. — The rules of order embraced in " The Rules of Debate and Chairman's Assistant," shall govern the deliberations of this associa- tion so far as the same may apply ; and the order of business therein laid down shall be followed, unless suspended or transposed by a two-third vote. Article VIII. — Any member who shall be guilty of any public, feloni- ous offence against the law, or who shall persevere in a course of conduct degrading of itself or calculated to bring this association into odium, may be expelled by a two-thirds vote of the members present at any stated meeting ; and any member who shall neglect or refuse to pay his dues for more than one year, shall thereby cease to be a member of this association ; but no member shall be expelled until due notice shall be given him of the charges brought against him, and until he shall have had the oppor- tunity of being confronted with his accusers, and of being heard in his own defence. Article IX. — This constitution may be altered, amended, or abrogated, at any stated meeting, by a vote of two-thirds of the members present ; provided, that written notice of said alteration, amendment, or abrogation, shall have been given at a previous stated meeting. w m mmm 354 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP JEDIA. RULES OF ORDER. QUORUM. 1. A quorum is a sufficient number to legally transact business. A majority of the members of any association constitutes a natural quorum ;, but a smaller number is usually made a quorum by a provision to that effect in the constitution or by-laws, through motives of convenience. 2. If there be a quorum present at the hour named for the meeting, or within thirty minutes thereafter, the presiding officer takes the chair, and calls the association to order ; if not, he waits a reasonable time, and from the chair announces that no quorum is present. Thereupon no further "business is in order, except to adjourn for want of a quorum. But it will be in order to call the roll of members, and to make endeavour to obtain the presence of enough to form the quorum. 3. During the transaction of business, should it be observed that no- quorum is present, the chair may announce the fact, or any member may call for a count. If, on counting, it be found that there is no quorum,, business is suspended until a quorum be found. If not to be had, the meeting must be adjourned. 4. If, on calling the ayes and noes, or on a division, a quorum be not found, the vote is null, and at the next meeting the unfinished business is. in the exact state it was when the absence of a quorum was discovered. CALL. 1. On a call of the body, each member rises as he is called, and answers to his name, and the absentees are noted. In a small body it is not neces- sary to rise. MINUTES. 1. The presiding officer having taken the chair, and a quorum being present, the minutes are read. If there be any mistakes in the record, these are amended, and then the minutes are adopted. If, under any cir- cumstances requiring hayte, or in the absence of the journal, the reading of the minutes be suspended, they may be either read and adopted at ano- ther stage of the proceedings, or at the next succeeding meeting. Never- theless, the minutes being a record of facts, any error subsequently dis- covered may be amended at any time. This may be done by unanimous consent ; or, if objection be made, then any member who voted in the affirmative on their adoption, can move a reconsideration of the motion to •m I RULES OF ORDER. 355 adopt. This last motion prevailing, the minutes are open to amendment ;: and after being amended, the motion on their adoption as amended is put. 2. The rule of record in ordinary associations is somewhat different from- that in legislative bodies. The minutes of the former stand In lieu of the- journals of the latter. The former never contain a question which is in- terrupted by a vote to adjourn, or to proceed to the order of the day ; the the latter always do. Even propositions withdrawn, or ruled out of order, may be entered, as so treated. The minutes are to be full and explicit, and a true record of all that was done, but not of all that was said, unless the latter be necessary to the clear understanding of the business. 3. Proceedings in committee of the whole are, of course, not entered on the minutes — the entry merely that the committee rose and reported thus, and so, and what was done thereon by the association. PRESIDING OFFICER. In the absence of the president, or in case he declines, the vice-president takes the chair. If there be more than one vice-president, then they take it in their numerical order, unless the association, by vote, designate a par- ticular one. If neither president nor vice-president be present some mem- ber is called to act temporarily as chairman, on motion put by the mover thereof. RECORDING OFi-'ICER, In the absence of the secretary, or, if more than one, in the absence of all, a temporary secretary must be appointed on motion. ARRANGEMENT OF BUSINESS. This, in associations, is usually provided for in the by-laws. If not other- wise provided for, it is as follows : — 1. Reading the minutes : 2. Reports of standing committees ; 3. Reports of special committees ; 4. Special orders ; 5. Unfinished business ; 6. New business. The election of new members, unless otherwise ordered, is always in order; and the election of officers ranks as a special order ; but an election of members is not in order while other business is pending, or while a member has the floor. ORDERS. There is only one case where a member has a right to insist on anything, and that is where he calls for the execution of an existing order. No de- bate nor delay can be had on it ; but where it is for an order of the day, 856 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. fixing some particular business to be taken up, then the president, on call of a member, puts the question whether the association will proceed to the order of the day. If it is decided in the negative, that is, in effect, a reversal of the former order, and the association decides to proceed to other business. COMMITTEES. 1. Standing committees are appointed under tlie constitution or by- laws of the association,* or by resolution, and sit permanently, while special committees are usually appointed by resolution to attend to some particu- lar business, which being done, they are usually discharged. 2. The first-named person acts as chairman of any committee. It is true that the committee possesses the inherent power to choose its own chairman ; but custom prevents this power from being used. Should a committee select some other than the first-named as chairman, it would be considered a wanton insult. 3. It is always proper to place the mover of a successful motion on any committee arising through his resolution, and to name him first ; but if the committee is upon an inquiry into his conduct, or where its deliberation concerns himself personally, or his manifest interest, the rule is not followed. 4. As near as they will apply, the rules of order of the main body govern the deliberations of committees. 5. A committee to whom a resolution or affirmative proposition is com- mitted should always have a majority of members, if thej* can be had, favourable to such resolution or proposition. G. Unless otherwise ordered, the chair appoints all committees. 7. When there is a standing committee on any subject, anything refer- ring to such subject should be referred to that committee alone ; but it may be given to a special committee, if the association think proper. 8. Standing committees require no order to report. They are always in session, and should report at every meeting, if only to report progress. 9. A committee cannot sit while the main body is in session, unless so ordered to do. 10. A majority of a committee must concur in a report ; but the min- ority are never refused leave to bring in a counter report. 11. Sometimes a majority cannot be found, when the committee should report the fact of their disagreement, and ask leave to be discharged ; they are then to be discharged, and either a new committee raised, or the subject brought before a committee of the whole, or before the main body. RULES OF ORDER. 357 12. Persons appointed upon a committee shoulJ join that committee so soon as they are notified of their appointment, unless they are excused ; as it is the duty of the first-named member of the com nittee to call his fellows together as soon as possible. it i COMMITTEE OF THE WHOLE. 1. If it be necessary to go into committee of the whole society, either for a general or specific purpose, it is done by motion, when the chairman va- cates the chair, and calls some member to it to act as chairman ; though the committee of the whole, if it chooses, can select another chairman like any other committee. This it never does. The quorum of the committee is the same as that of the main body. If a quorum be found wanting, the committee has to rise, the regular chair- man takes his seat, and the chairman of the committee informs him that the committee rises for want of a quorum. Then the usual course is taken in regard to the absence of a quorum. 2. If any communication be made to the main body while in committee of the whole, the committee cannot receive it. If its reception be neces- sary, the committee have to rise. 3. If there be confusion or disturbance in committee of the whole, the president may take the chair, declare the committee dissolved, and reduce the body to order. In that case it requires another motion for that com- mittee to sit again. 4. A committee of the whole cannot adjourn, but it must rise. It can- not take the previous question, nor take the ayes and noes. 5. If the business before the committee of the whole be unfinished, it rises on motion, the regular presiding officer takes the chair, and the chair- man of the committee reports that the committee of the whole have, ac- cording to order, considered the business assigned to them, and have made progress therein, but, not having time to conclude the same, ask leave to sit again. Leave is then granted, on motion. If the subject be a special one, and it is concluded, the motion is that the committee rise and report proceedings ; then, when the president takes the chair, the chairman of the committee reports that the committee have gone through the business re- ferred to them, and ask leave to report. Leave is then given to report then, or at some other time, either by motion, or, should _^there be no ob- jection, on the call of some member. 6. In committee, members may speak oftener than once on the same subject, and are not confined strictly to the subject-matter. With these n't- III mmmm 858 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. and the foregoing exceptions, the same rules of order govern the com- mittee of the whole as govern the main body. 7. A motion to rise and report progress is in order at any stage of the business, and is to be decided without debate. When they have reported, they may be discharged on motion, which brings the matter laid before them directly before the association itself. COMMITMENT. 1. If it be desired to refer a resolution, address or other matter to a com- mittee, it is done on motion. If to a special committee, the chair names the committee. Any member present may suggest one member on that committee, and if the main body do not object the chair will name him, since the silence of members in that case is equivalent to a direct appoint- ment of that person by the association. But such a course is unusual, and generally improper. 2. Though the majority on a committee should be favourable to a mea- sure, the minority may be of those who are opposed to it in some particu- lars. But those totally opposed to it should never be appointed ; and if any one of that view be named, he should rise and state the fact, when the main body will excuse him from serving. 3. If it be a written matter which is referred, the secretary delivers it to the first named of the committee. 4. A committee meets when and where it pleases, unless the time and place is fixed for it. But it cannot act unless its members assemble to- gether. 5. The committee cannot change the title or subject of the matter before it, but otherwise have full power over it. 6. If it be a written matter before it, if it originate with the committee, the writing must be considered paragraph by paragraph, and the question put on each. After each paragraph is approved or amended, it is then considered as a whole. If it has been referred, the committee only report the amendments they recommend separttely ; as they have no right to amer d a paper belonging to the main body. 7. When the committee is through, some member moves that it rise, and report the matter to the main body, with or w'tnout amendments, as the case may be. REPORTS OF COMMITTEES. The chairman of the committee, standing in his place, informs the asso- ciation that the committee to which was intrusted such a matter, naming ill 1 RULES OF ORDER. 359 it, have directed him to report tliereon, and moves that the report be re- ceived. The cry of " Receive ! " or " Report ! " or " Read it ! " from any one, generally dispenses with the formality of a question. He then reads the report, whatever it may be, and delivers the written report to the aecretary. Then it lies on the table until called up by a motion. The committee is dissolved, and can act no more unless reconstituted for the purpose by a vote. MOTIONS. 1. A motion is a proposition by two members ; consequently, if not seconded, it is not to be entertained. This is different, however, in the case of an appeal, where the question m||r be put on the demand of one member. 2. A motion must be put in writing, if any member desires it, and read, when required for information. But if the demand for the reading be re- peated, so as to show itself a mere pretext for delay, the association may order it to be read no more. 3. A motion for adjournment cannot be made while one member is speaking ; because it is a breach of order for one to speak when another has the floor, except to a point of order ; consequently, even a privileged motion cannot be entertained. And even on a call to order, decided against him, he must still be allowed to go on, provided he does not persist in the same violation of order in his remarks. •I AMENDMENTS. 1. An amendment takes the place of the question it is proposed to amend, and must be decided first. So an amendment to an amendment must be decided before the first amendment. 2. But amendments cannot be piled one on the other ; that is, while you can amend an amendment, you cannot amend the second amendment. 3. For example : it is moved to give the thanks of the association for his kind gift of fifty volumes to the society. It is moved to amend by striking out the word " kind " and inserting " generous." This is an amend- ment. It is then moved to strike out the word " generous " and insert that of " liberal" This is an amendment to the amendment. It is then proposed to strike out the word " liberal," and insert that of " munificent." This third amendment is out of order. 4. Nor can amendments be made to certain privileged questions. Thus, an amendment to a motion to adjourn, for the previous question, a call of the house, or to lay on the table. •I k m ipii 860 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. 5. But an amendment, though inconsistent with one previously adopt- ed, is still in order. It is for the association alone to decide whether, hy the passage of the second amendment, it will recede from its former action. C. On an amendment being moved, a member who has spoken to the main question, may speak to the amendment. 7. If it be proposed to amend by leaving out certain words, it may be moved to amend the amendment by leaving out a part of the words of the amendment, which is equivalent to letting those words remain. 8. For example : the original words being " Resolved that we have heard with feelings of lively satisfaction that the authorities of our town propose to tax dogs, and approve their action," it is moved to amend by striking out the words " with feelings of %vely satisfaction." If it be moved ta amend the amendment, by striking out the words " with feelings of satis- faction," the question would be : Shall those words stand as part of the resolution ? If carried, the word " lively " is struck out, and the rest re- mains. The question then recurs on the resolution as amended. 9. When it is proposed to amend by inserting a paragraph, or part of one, the friends of this should make it perfect by amendments ; because if it be inserted it cannot be amended, since it has been agreed to in that form. So if proposed to amend by striking out a paragraph, the friends of the paragraph should also make it as pt/fect, by amendments, as pos- sible ; for if the striking out be negatived, that is equivalent to agreeing to it in that form, and amendments are not admissible. 10. When it is moved to amend by striking out certain words and in- serting others, the manner of stating the question is, first to read the whole passage to be amended, as it stands at present ; then the words proposed to be struck out ; next those to be inserted ; and, lastly, the whole passage as it will be when amended. And the question, if desired, is then to be divided, and put first on striking out. If carried, it is next on inserting the words proposed. If that be lost, it may be moved to insert others. 11. A motion is made to amend by striking out certain words and in- serting others in their place, which is negatived. Then it is moved to strike out the same words, and to insert others of a tenor entirely different from those fii'st proposed, which is negatived. Then it is moved to strike out the same words and insert nothing, which is agreed to. All this is in order ; because to strike out A and insert B, is one proposition. To strike out A and insert C is another proposition. To strike out A and insert nothing, is another proposition. The rejection of either proposition doe» not preclude the offering'of a new one. But a motion to strike out alone being voted down, is equivalent to voting that the words should stand,. RUJiES OF ORDER. 361 and amendments are not in order. Jefferson thinks that even if the ques- tion be divided, and taken first on the striking out, and that fails, amend- ments are in order, because the proposition is only half put. There is force in this, and it seems to be the practice. 12. Alter the paragraph is amended, it nevertheless may be further amended by striking it entirely out. PRIVILEQED QUESTIONS. 1. " When a question is under debate, no motion shall be received but to adjourn, to lay on the table, to postpone indefinitely, to postpone to a day certain, to commit, or to amend ; which several motions shall have prece- dence in the order they stand arranged ; and the motion to adjourn shall be always in order, and shall be decided without debate." 2. These privileged questions shall not only be entertained while the main question is pending, but will be put before it. 3. A motion to adjourn takes precedence of all others, because otherwise the body might be kept sitting against its will, and indefinitely. Yet even this question cannot be entertained after another question is actually put, and while members are voting upon it. 4. An order of the day — that is, a question which has previously been set down to be argued or determined on that day — *;akes precedence of all questions except adjournment. If, for instance, a matter be set down for seven o'clock, then at that hour, although another question may be before the body, a motion to proceed to take up the order of the day must be received by the chair. 5. These privileged questions sometimes conflict with each other, but are reconciled under known rules. 6. If the previous question be first moved, it is first put. This cuts off all the others. The society, having decided to take the question, must vote on it as it stands — ^postponement, commitment, and amendment being out of order. 7. If postponement be carried, of course the question cannot be either committed, amended, nor the previous question be carried, for the subject is not before the body. 8. If committed, the same rules and reasons follow. 9. If amendment is first moved, the question on that must be determine ed before the previous question. 10. If amendment and postponement are proposed, the latter is put first. The reason is, that the amendment is not suppressed, but comes up again in its order whenever the main question is again considered. h fin, 362 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. 11. If a motion for amendment be followed by one for commitment, the latter shall be put first. 12. The previous question cannot be put on the motion to postpone, commit, or amend the main question. 13. The motion for the previous question, or for commitment or amend- ment, cannot be postponed. 14. A motion made for reading papers relative to the question discussed, must be put before the main question. 15. A motion made and seconded cannot be withdrawn without leave, though, if no member object, it is not necessary to put the question. 16. When different sums or dates are used in filling blanks, the question «hall fii-st be put on the largest sum and the longest time. 17. In commitment, the motions to commit are privileged in the follow- ing order : 1. Committee of the Whole ; 2. Standing Committee ; 3. Spe- cial Committee. 18. A motion to lay on the table must be put befoi*e either postpone- ment, commitment, or amendment, although neither of these last can be laid on the table. 19. A postponement can be amended as to time, and an amendment can be amended ; but if it be proposed to amend by inserting anything, a motion to amend or perfect the matter proposed to be inserted must be put to a vote before the question to insert. The same rule follows in re- gard to striking out. 20. A question of privilege, such as a quarrel between members, or af- fecting the character of members, or the main body, must be disposed of before the original question be disposed of. 21. Questions on leave to withdraw motions, or appeals from the deci- sion of the chair, have a precedence over the main question. PREVIOUS QUESTION. 1. When any question is before the association, any member may move that the main question be put ; and this is termed moving the previous •question. If the motion pass in the affirmative, the main question is put immediately, and no further debate is allowed upon the matter at issue. 2. This is frequently styled " the gag law," because its adoption cuts oflT all debate. When a subject in the judgment of the majority has been ex- hausted, or when personalities have been introduced, and disorders are threatened, it is a very proper and wise thing ; but it should not generally he brought to bear so long as members who desire to speak are unheard. RULES OF ORDER. 363 DIVISION OF THE QUESTION. 1. A question which contains more parts than one may be divided, on the demand of a member, provided the main body concur. If the question contain parts which are evidently incompatible, the presiding officer may divide them of his own will, unless the body deny him the power. 2. When a question is divided, after the question has been taken on the first member of it, the second member is still open to amendment and de- bate, unless the previous question be taken upon it. i ifa, ::|! .•I V ^1 COEXISTINO QUESTIONS. 1. Occasionally there are two questions up at the same time — one prim- arily, and the other secondarily. Are both subject to debate ? 2. When it has been moved to commit a question, the main question is debatable under that motion ; but no amendment can be entertained, be- cause the question of commitment will be first put. EQUIVALENT QUESTIONS. Where questions are equivalent, so that the rejection of one is the af- firming of the other, that necessarily determines the latter. Thus, a vote against striking out is virtually the same as a vote to agree ; a vote to reject is equivalent to a vote to adopt ; but, on a motion to strike out A and insert B being decided in the negative, this does not preclude the motion to strike out A and insert C, these being separate questions. THE QUESTION. 1. The question is first to be put on the affirmative, and then on the negative side. 2. After the question has been put, debate upon it is out of order ; but after the presiding officer has put the affirmative, any member who has not spoken before on the question may speak before the negative be put, for it is not a full question until the negative be put. 3. But on trifling matters, such as leave to bring in reports of commit- tees, withdrawing motions, reading papers, and such like, the consent of the main body will be supposed without the formality of a question, unless some one should object, for the absence of an objection in such cases testifies to unanimous consent. ■■Mi 364 THE HOME, FABM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. DIVISION. 1. The affirmative and negative voices having been heard upon a ques- tion, the presiding officer declares by the sound what is the result. If lie have doubts as to the relative strength of yeas and nays, or if any member demands it, before other business has been gone into, then a division is ordered. 2. The mode of dividing is for those in the affirmative to rise, when the presiding officer counts those, and announces the number. These sit, and those in the negative arise, to be counted in like manner. 3. One-fifth of the members present may call for the y^as and nays, each member's name being called, and his answer entered by the secre- tary. In case of any disorder during a division or calling of the yeas and nays, the presiding officer decides the question of order ; and the decision is not the subject of appeal at this time, although it may be revised after the division or call is over. (See Rule XXXIII.) RECONSIDERATION. 1. A question which has been decided either in the affirmative or in the negative, may be reconsidered upon the motion of a member who has voted with the majority. But this motion for reconsideration will not be in order, unless made during the meeting whereat the question was decided. 2. The effect of the adoption of a motion to reconsider is to place the question in the position it occupied before the vote on its adoption or re- jection was taken ; consequently it is as open to amendment, postpone- ment, commitment, or laying on the table, as it was at that time. APPEALS. 1. An appeal from the decision of the chair is a matter of right, and brings under review and opens to debate the grounds of such decision. 2. The presiding officer, by usage and courtesy, has the right to assign his reasons for his decision before the question is put on the appeal. 3. The question on an appeal is, whether the decision of the presiding officer shall stand as the judgment of the body itself. If a majority vote in the affirmative, the decision stands ; if not, it is reversed. 4. An appeal cannot be put on an appeal ; that is, a second appeal can- not be entertained while the first remains undisposed of. RULES OF ORDER. 865 5. A mere opinion of the chair, drawn out by an interrogation on points of order, is not subject to an appeal. To be appealed from, it must be an actual decision on a question coming up legitimately in the progress of business. PAPERS. 1. When papers have been laid before the main body, or referred to a committee, every member has a right to hear them once read at the secre- tary's table, before he can be compelled to vote on them. 2. But he has not a right, therefore, to have papers read independently of the will of a majority of his colleagues. If the reading be demanded purely for information, and not for delay, and no one objects, the chair- man will direct it to bo done, without putting it to the question. But should any one object the question must be put. 3. Nor can any member have a right, without a question first put, to have any thing read, which is not before the body, 4. Nor can a member have a right to read a paper, in his place, not even his own speech, if it be objected to without the leave of the body. But this rule is not usually enforced, unless there be a gross or inten- tional abuse of the time and patience of the body. ■1 COMMUNICATIONS. When a communication addressed to the main body is presented, the que.stion is to be put whether it shall be received. But a general cry of "Receive !" or, even if there be no objection, the silence of the body, is sufficient to dispense with the formality of the question. In that case, or in case the vote on its reception be in the affirmative, it is to be read un- less otherwise disposed of. THINGS ON THE TABLE. 1. Matters which have been laid on the table can only be called up when the class of business to which they belong is in order. 2. If laid on the table by a motion, they can only be lifted from it by a motion. If laid there under rules, as a matter of course, tliey can be called up by any member as a matter of right, when the business to which they belong is reached in its regular order. 3. But it is deemed discourteous, when the matter lies on the table, to call it up in the absence of the mover, or against his wishes, if present, provided it refers to a matter of local or private concern, in the mover's I :\.l F 366 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. special charge ; and provided further, that it is not designed or calculated to delay final action on any measure or proposition before the body, or impede the progress of business. RESOLUTIONS. All resolutions must be committed to writing, if demanded, and the name of the mover should be signed thereto. RIGHTS OF MEMBERS. 1, It is the right of a member to have the question put on his motion, and a refusal to do this is a breach of order on the part of the chair. 2. It is the right of a member to insist on the execution of a standing order of the body. And it is the right of a member, if he observe that 'a quorum is not present during the transaction of business, to call for a count. JEiBcelkiteous ^abks for |letona Herschel's Weather Table. rOB FORETEIiLINO THE WEATHER THROUGHOUT ALL THE LUNATIONS OF EACH TEAR, FOREVER. This table is the result of many years' actual observation, the whole being constructed on a due consideration of the attraction of the Sun and Moon in their s sveral positions respecting the Earth, and will, by simple inspection, show the observer what kind of weather vidU most probably follow the entrance of the Moon into any of its quarters. If (Ao JV«u» *ooj, First Quarttr, FuU Moon, or Last Quarter, happeni— IN SUMMER. IN WINTER. Between midnight and 2 o'clock. " 2 and 4 morning '' 4 " 6 " . Fair Cold and showers , . . Rain Frost unless wind south-west iinow and stormy. " 6 " 8 " Wind and rain Stormy. Cold rain if wind west, snow if east Cold and high wind. Snow or rain •« g •' ]o " Ohanfireable " 10 "12 " " 32 " 2 afternoon Frequent showers Ver". rainv " 2 " 4 " Chancreable Ftiir and mild •< 4 " 6 " Fair. Fiir. •• 6 " 8 " •' 8 "10 " " 10 " midnisht Fair if wind north-west. . Rainy if south or S.W... Fair Fair and frosty if wind N. or N.E. Rain or snow if south or south-weBt, Fair and frosty. V. MISCELLANEOUS TABLES FOR REFERENCE. 367 Foreign Governments. eocNTur, Abyuinia Afghanistan Anam (Cochin-Ohint).., Andorra , Argentine Republic. . . AuHtria Belgium Reloochistan Brazil Bokhara Bolivia Borneo Burman Empire Chili China Costa Rica Dahom«y Denmark Egypt E:uador Fiji Islands France German Empire Prussia Saxony and States LubecK ) p Hamburg [J^« Bremen j towns, Bavaria '\ !» Wurtemberg I o Baden )-2 Hesse-Darmstadt I B Alsace Lorraine J 'fi Great Britain Greece Guatemala Hayti Honduras Italy Japan Kliokan Liberia Mad'igascar Mexico , Montenegro Mosquito Morocco Muscat Netherlands New Granada Nicaragua Norway Orange Free States. . . . Paraguay- Penia Peru ; Portugal Ritumania Russia Sarawak , Sandwich Islands Ban Salvador Servia Siam. Sp^iu Switzerland Stveden St. Domingo Turkey Uruguay Venezuela Magdala Candahar Ketcbo Andorra Buenos Ayres. . Vienna. Brussels Kelat Rio de Janeiro. Bokhara LaPaz CAPITAL. MAMS OF RDLBR. Honchoboo. . Santiago .... Pekin San Jose..,. Dahomey.... Copenhagen . Cairo Quito , Ovalan Paris Johannes I Yakoob Khan Tu Due A. Querada Senor Avellameda Francis Joseph I Leopold II Mir Nasa Khan Pedro II Mozaffar-ed-di Adolpho Ballivian Abdul Munem Uendoonmen .... * Errazuriz Tsaeteen J. M. Quardia Adahoonzon Christian IX Ismail Pasha Don Antonio Borrero . . . Ceded to Great Britain . Jules Grevy TITLB. Berlin. Munich ... Stuttgart . . Carlsruhe . Darmstadt. Ludwig II, Charles I . . , Frederic. . Louis III.., London Athens Guatemala Port au Prince . . Comayague Rome. tokio Khokan Monrovia Tananarivo. Mexico Cetigne Blewfleldi Fez Muscat Amsterdam Bogota Managua Chrisiiania Bloemfontein.. . . Asuncion Teheran Lima Lisbon Bucharest St. Petersburg.. Kuching Honolulu San Salvador.,.. Belgrade'. Bang: Kok dadrtd Berne Stockholm San Domingo... Constantinople . Montevideo lOaraoas Victoria George I Don I. Ruflno Barrios. Gen. B. Canal Gen. J. M. Medina Humbert I Hutsuhito King Shah ,. King Ist Syndic. President.. Emperor. . King Khan Emperor ,. Khan President.. Sultan King President . . Emperor... President. . King King Khedive... President.. King President . William , King King O. Duke. G. Duke. Jas. S. Payne Elamavolo II Gen. Porflris Diaz Nicholas I Tamaso Mulai Hassan Seyyed Toorkee bin Said . . . William III Don Santiago Perez : Don Vincente Cuadra Oscar II, cf Sweden (. H. Brand John B. Gill Nassir ed Din Senor Manuel Prado , LuisI Charles Alexander III Charles Brooke Santiago... David Kalakaua Senor Andres Valle Milan Obrenovitch Chan Fa Chule Long Korn. Don Alfonso XII M. Scherer Oscar II Gen. Ig. Qonzaltz Abdul Hamid II Oon Jose EDauri I A. Guzman Blanco . , Emperor.. Queen King Preiident . . President . President . King Emperor... Khan President' . Queen . . . ' . President- . Hospodar . King Sultan Imaum . . . . King President . President. . Populat'n. 40,000,000 7,000,000 21,000,OCO 20,000 1,S77,600 38,000,000 5,263.821 2,000,000 11,000,-90 2,000,000 2,000,000 1,750,000 8,000,000 2,860,000 415,000000 185,000 800,000 1,968,500 5,800,000 1,146,000 250,000 86,906,788 45 194,172 27,251,067 2,970,220 68,571 45i,041 156,229 6,2/1,616 1,970,132 1,670,689 1,571,971 29,3j7,199 1700,000 1,200,000 960,000 350,000 27,4 «, 174 34,888,400 1,000,000 718,000 3,000,000 9,400,000 286,000 President. . President . Shah President. King Hospodar. Emperor... Rajah King President. . King. King King President.. King President , Sultan President . President . 7,000,000 1,500,000 4,000,000 8,00},000 300,000 1,807,000 60,000 1,400,000 8,000,0)0 8,874,000 4,436,000 5,400,000 86,686,014 200,000 73,000 600,000 l,6'»0,0l)0 6,700.000 16,835,506 2 800.000 4,.')30,000 250,000 45,000,000 450,000 1,800,000 Area Pquare Miles. 176,000 300,000 600,000 190 1,000,000 268,000 12,S00 160,000 8,000,000 236,000 818,000 800,000 200,000 144,000 5,300,000 16,260 ii.eift 176,800 300,000 204,826 135,806 746,042 6,77» 5.21 4 78 7.44 26,500 7,600 6,712 18,964 25,706. 121,115 19,960 16,000 11,718 47,093 98,164 266,600 226,000 846,615 460,000 34,000 26,000 176,000 12,686 333,000 67,000 121,000 70 00O 88,000 648,000 668,000 34,401 27,600 7,710,882 ""'6.600 7,600 12.600 260,000 193,503 16,991 128.776 18 000 2,210,000 75,000 426 000 111 1i § i I I 368 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA, PopnlatlonB of the Principal Cities of the Old World. Population, London, EnKland 3,882,092 Foochow, China 2,000,000 Paris, France 2,000,000 Pekin, China 1,648,814 Jeddo, Japan 1,554,848 Canton, China 1,236,000 Const'inople, Turkey.. 1,075,000 Bombay, India 046,636 Calcutta, India 616,249 Berlin, Prussia 828,013 Glasgow, Scotland 477,144 Vienna, Austria 617,514 St. Petersburg, Russia. 680,000 Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. 420,000 Liverpool, England. . . 493,346 Birmingham, hngland. 343,696 Manchester, England.. 355,605 Edinburgh, Scotland . . 196,500 Population. Lyons, France 325,000 Dublin, Ireland 245,722 Madrid. Spain 235,000 Leeds, England 259,201 Sheffield, " 239,947 Bristol, " 182,524 Belfast, Ireland 174,394 Amsterdam, Holland. . 215,600 Cairo, P^ypt 313,383 Lisbon, Portugal 224,063 Hamburg, Germany.... 337,940 Brussels, Belgium 172,000 Dresden, Saxony 177,095 Munich, Bavaiia 190,000 Naples, Italy 448,743 Rome, " 244,484 Genoa, " I;i0,200 Palermo, " 219,398 Population, Venice, Italy 128,901 Turin " 207,770 Florence," 167,093 Milan, " 200,000 Copenhagen, Denmark 181,291 Stockholm, Sweden.... 135,000 Antwerp, Belgium 127,' Ghent, " .... 121,4(i9 Damascus, Syria 120,000 Smyrna, Turkey 150,000 Prague, Bohemia 157,275 Alexandria, Egypt. 238,888 Marseilles, France 305,000 Bordeaux, " .... 196,000 Lille, " .... 156,000 Melbourne, Australia.. 256,501 Sydney,Au8.,& suburbs 200,000 Auckland, N. Zealand.. 31,400 Number of Plants per Acre. NuMBEB OF Plants or Trees that can be Planted on an Acre of Ground at the Following Distances Apart. number of Number oj Feet apart. Plants. J by 1 43,560 H '■ li 1i>,360 2 " 1 21,780 ■2 "2 10,890 2* " 2*.. 0,9(19 3 " 1 14,520 8 " 2 7.200 3 "8 *,840 8i "31 3,5i5 4 " 1 lO.bOO 4 "2 11,445 4 «' 3 3.630 4 " 4 2,722 4i " 4i 2,161 6 " 1 8,712 Number of Feet apart. Number of Plants. 4 . 5 . 5i. 6 . lii. 7 . 8 . 9 . 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. .4,366 . i?,904 .2,178 .1,742 .1,417 .1,210 .1.031 . S88 . 6S0 . 6.37 . 436 . 360 . 102 267 . 222 Number of Feet apart. Numbe r oJ Plants. 16 by 15 193 16 " 16 170 17 " 17 160 18 "18 .134 19 " 19 120 20 "20 108 24 "24 75 25 " 25 .... .... 69 27 " 27 59 80 "30 48 40 "40 27 50 "60 17 60 " 60 66 " 68 12 10 How to Estimate Crops per Acre. Frame together four light sticks exactly a foot square inside, and with this in hand walk into the field and select a spot of fair average yield, and lower the frame square over as many heads as it will en- close. Shell out the heads thus enclosed carefully, and weigh the grain. It is fair to presume that the product will be the 43,.' 60th part of an acre's produce. To prove it, go through the field and make ten or twenty similar calculations, and estimate by the mean of the whole num- ber of results. It will certainly enable a farmer to make a closer calculation of what a field will produce than he can do by guessing. A Mile Measure. A standard English mile, which is the measure that we use, is 5,280 feet in length, 1,760 yards, or 320 rods. A strip one rod wide and one mile long, is two acres. By this it is easy to calculate the quantity of land taken up by roads, and also how much is wasted by fences. The Creeds of the World. Christians 380,000,000 Buddhists 360,000,000 Other Asiatic Religions 269,000,000 Mohammedans 166,000,000 .Jews. 7,000,000 ma 200,000,000 :^ » ESTE ~W-T^. IWW^W^iW^^^BWW 9Bm HH 193 170 ISO 134 120 108 75 69 59 48 27 17 12 10 and , ! MISCELLANEOUS TABLES FOR REFERENCE. 369 s; Table— Showing the Principal Countries of the Worid, their Population, Beligion, and Government. Nami of Country . China British Emipire Russia United Stotes France Austria and Hungary Japan Great Britain and Ireland., German Empire Prussia Turicey ItalT Spain Brazil , Mexico Sweden Persia Belgium Bavaria Portugal Netherlands Colombia Chili Switzerland Peru Bolivia Norway Argentine Republic Wurtemburg Denmaric Venezuela Greece Guatemala . Ecuador Paraguay Liberia San Salvador Hayti Nicaragua Uruguay San Domingo Costa Rica Sandwich Islands Population. Capital. 460,000,000 226,817,108 85,686,946 60,152,669 36,102,921 35,904,436 32,794,897 81,628,3.38 42,V26.844 26,772,662 •22,000,000 26,801,164 16,642,000 9,448,288 9,173,000 4,383,291 4,400.000 6,253,821 6,024,832 3,995,162 8,909,627 2,913,343 2,068,447 2,609,147 3,199,000 1,987,362 1,817,237 1,736,922 1,881,505 1,874,000 1,784,194 1,606,531 1.680,000 tl.800,000 221,079 718.000 434.520 t572,000 850,000 450,000 1250,000 165,000 t71,000 Religion. Peliin London St. Petersburg Washington . . Paris IRoman Catholic Vienna IRoman Catholic Buddhist Protestant. ... Greek Church Protestant. Yeddo London Berlin Berlin Constantinople . Rome Madrid Rio Janeiro Mexico Stockholm Teheran Shinto Protestant Protestant Protestant , Mohammedan . . , Roman Catholic Roman Catholic , Roman Catholic Roman Catholic Protestant Mohammedan . . Brussels I Roman Catholic Munich {Roman Catholic Lisbon . The Hague Bogoto Santiago Berne Lima Chuquisaca..., Christiana Buenos Ayros .. Stuttgart .... Copenhagen ,. Carraccas ... Athens Guatomaia .... Quito Asuncion Monrovia n,' ruler of a house. Owen, British, well descended. Patrick, Latin, a nobleman. Paul, Latin, small, little, Percival, French, a place in France. Peregrine, Latin, outlandish. Peter, Greek, a rock or stone. Philip, Greek, a lover of horses. Phineas, Hebrew, of bold countenance. Ralph, contracted from Radolph, or Randal, or Kanulph, Saxon, pure helpv RaynfUnd, German, quiet peace, Reuben, Hebrew, the son of vision. Reynold, German, a lover of purity. Richard, Saxon, powerful, Robert, German, famous in counsel. Roger, German, strong counsel, Rowland, German, counsel for the land, Rufus, Latin, reddish, Solomon, Hebrew, peaceable. Samson, Hebrew, a little son. Samuel, Hebrew, heard by G Cathedral of Florence.. Italy 384 " Cathedral of Cremona.. Italy 372 " Church at Fribourg. . . . Germany 370 " Cathedral of Seville . . . Spain 3(i0 •• Cathedral of Milan Italy 355 >' Cathedral of Utrecht . . Holland 356 " Pyramid of Sakkarah. . Egypt 356 » Cathedral of Munich . . Bavaria 348 " Cathedral of StMark, ) j^. . ggg n Venice ) ^ ApinelU Tower, Bo- 1 j^^^ 3^4 .. Capitol at Washington. United States, 300 '• ''' yIS ^^"'l'^! .^^.'^ } ^"'*«*^ ^*''*'«' 28* " Column at Delhi. '. '. '. . .India 262 " Porcelain Tower, )(,j^ 348 » Nankm ) '^Da^r'p^s.''"*"}^'-- 232 " ^"mtt C^Lle^trn } United States. 220 •• Leaning Tower, Pisa . . Italy 202 » ''^eWStimre'^": } United States, 183 -. VendomeColumn,ParisFrance 153 » Trajan's Column Rome 151 •' Time Bequired to Eoast Various .Articles of Food. H. M. A small capon, fowl, or chicken requires.. 20 A large fowl 45 A capon, full size 35 A goose 1 Wild ducks and grouse 15 Pheasants and turkey poults 20 A moderate -sized turkey, stuffed 1 15 Partridges 25 QuaU 10 A hare or rabbit about 1 Beef, ten pounds 2 30 Leg of poiJc, I hour for each pound, and ) an above that allowance ) H. M. A chine of pork 2 A neck of mutton 1 30 A haunch of venison about 3 30 Time Bequired to Boil Various Articles of Food. H. H. A ham, 20 lbs. weight, requires 6 30 A tongue (if dry) after soaking 4 A tongue out of pickle 2^ to 3 A neck of mutton 1 30 A chicken 20 A large fowl 45 A pigeon 15 A capon 35 Capacity of Noted Churches & Halls. Name of Building, St. Peter's Cathedral.. Cathedral of Milan. . . St. Paul's Church St. Paul's Cathedral... Church of St. Petronio. Cathedral of Florence.. Cathedral of Antwerp.. Mosque of St. Sophia. . St. John's Lateran Cathedral of Notre ) Dame J Cathedral of Pisa Church of St. Stephen . Church of St. Dominic. Church of St. Peter.. . . Cathedral of Vienna. . . Cathedral of St. Mark. Gilmore's Garden Stadt Theatre Academy of Music Theatre Carlo Felice . . Boston Theatre Covent Garden Academy of Music Music Hall Alexander Theatre. . . Opera House San Carlos Theatre. . . Imperial Theatre Grand Opera La Scala St. Charles Theatre . . Opera House Grand Opera House. . Booth's Theatre McVicar'a Theatre . . . Ford's Opera House. . Opera House Location. Contain Rome 54,000 Milan 37,000 Rome 32,000 London 26,000 Bologna 24,000 Florence 24,000 Antwerp 24,000 Constantinople . .23,000 Rome 22,000 Paris 21,000 Pisa 13,000 Vienna 12,000 Bologna 12,000 Bologna 11,400 .Vienna 11,000 .Venice 7,500 .New York 8,433 .New York 3,000 .Philadelphia.... 2,865 .Genoa 2,560 .Boston 2,972 .London 2,684 .New York 2,526 .Boston 2,585 .St. Petersburg... 2,332 .Munich 2,307 .Naples 2,240 .St. Petersburg... 2,160 .Paris 2,090 .Milan 2,113 .New Orleans.... 2,178 .New Orleans.... 2,052 .New York 1,883 .New York 1,807 .Chicago 1,790 .Baltimore 1,720 .Berlin 1,636 Velocity of Soniid and Light. Sound moves about thirteen miles in a minute. So that if we hear a clap of thunder half a minute idfter the flash, we MISCELLANEOUS TABLES FOR REFERENCE. 373 may oalonlate that the oharae of electric- ity is aiz and a half miles o£ In one second of time — in one beat of the pendulum of a dock — light travels over 192,000 miles. Were a cannon ball shot toward the sun, and it were to main- tain full speed, it would be twenty years in reaching it — and yet light travels through this space in seven or eight min- utes. Oceans, Seas, Bays and Lakes. Oceana. Sq. Miles. Pacific, abotit 80,000,000 Atlantic, " 40,000,000 Indian, " 20,000,000 Southern, " .10,000,000 Arctic, " 5,000.000 Non.— The seas, baj-s, fca\ta, etc., connected with each ocean, are included in the fore^oiiigr estimate. It may be proper to remark, however, that the exact auperflcial extent of the several oceans la not l t and peach came from Persia. The he . chestnut is a native of Thibet. The cucumber came from the East In- dies. The quince came from the island of Crete. The radish is a native of China and Japan. Peas are supposed to be of Egyptian origin. The garden cress is from Egypt and the East. Horse-radish came from the South of Europe. The Zealand flax shows its origin by its name. 1». •pe. Eibia. Peru. 'enia. plant. *enia. hibet. ■t In. bnd of A and ^ptian id the ith of by its