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Pagination is as follows: fi]-xiii, fllJ-SBif p. This Item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est f ilmi^ au taux de rMuction indiqui ci-dessous. 10X 14X 18X 22X 26 X 30X J 12X itx 20X 24X 2IX 12X qu'il cet t de C?N %\0\ ^i<- y,^. /-i. •^ -^v-l ^^'&^-\ ro r- a iS,^, T^:.b.:..SP.LET,Ell031E: ^'irn mmmk of Dgmstic Imm Afmiee, i THE HOUSEHOLD, •^ 1 -^ -■I'' j n ■iiation, Or^, i-'rivsiOitSiipii, .nual^' ?.,>1 r^,. ^ .iialfi). K Ana Ptf^ \if im--' t »*««, •• •''Mm i 11 J ^^:^^^f -^■^n^ W igr. : m^. j THE COMPLETE HOME: AN taaoPiEDU OF DoMSTic Life m Affm T \ - rr rnir^ n -r \ m THE HO 3EHOLD. IN ITS ronndatloi.. Order Economy, Beanty, II«.alihft,Inc8«, Rmertreneles. nietbodii, CtalKlrcn, Htcratnrc. Amusomonts, ReUglonT FricndshtpH, Ittannera, Hospitality, Servants, Industry, Sloucy, and Uistory. ri %*> %mmt of limtical %mnm lophrls |Itorat4 BY MRS. JULIA McNAIR WRIGHl'. -Oforluimi*, Oka^pyday, WHin a nnv household taket itt Urik, And rolls on its harmonious way Among tht myriiiJ homtt q/ tarik," — LoMcrauOw. BRADLEY, GAUllETSON & CO., CO NOllTH FOUUTir STUKET, I'lllLADKU'UIA: HI!ANTFOR0, ONT. WILLIAM (JARUETSON & CO., OOLUMnus, o.; ciiKAao, im.s.; nashvim,e,tenn.{ »T. LOUIS, MO.; HAN KUANCISCO, CAL. m ^^~^^s ^^"i \%^^ ^•*-i^ Copyrijjht, by JvuA McNair Wright, 1879. \> I r 1! n s| tl tr di PREFACE. ^ jETWEEN the Home set up in Eden, and the Home before us ^ n Eternuy, stand the Homes of Earth in a long succeJsTon young „.„ rear ,o marry, and \y undue cl: on 'Tp rive ' !„: X 01 ll,e joys and safeguards of domestic life? vrll 7 '„°™™ not know all that it is needful to Wn^! » , ^°""^ I"''"" integrity that it mU Ml ''"o^^ »" secure their Home in its may know hi o^ ^?P^' "^^"^'^ '"^"^^ •^'^^^'i'""'. that they s ; d mTne';;^ rj:z "''' r^'",^'*'^^^"' "^^^^' -- -»' these quest ons Eve'" ch "'" '^f./"' ^°°'' '"^>"^^'P '^"^^^ trou..^ wellTet, we^o:! s^X^ wl -^l^^ ^^^"^'^ ^"'' ^^ " By stepping stones Of our (leid selves, to higher fhinp." How then shall the Home fuinilthe great duty lying before it th. duty of restoring confidence and energy, of 'e r:Zt;:g evito; (3) 9~*- 4 ' PREFACE. bringing much out of little, and affording to every Family in the land an assumed competence ? The answer |o these questions, the indication of the means of reaching an end so grand, will take hold on Moral Principles and \}c^€ix practical out-working. This Book— the product of years of careful investigation, of actual experiences, and of a profound veneration for the Divinely instituted Home— undertakes to show how every sound man and woman m.-v safely marry, how every family may have a competence,, how every home may go on from good to better, and how each household may be not only gladsome in itself, but a spring of strength and safety to the country at large. This book treats of the individual as set in Households : it regards the household as a unit in its affections, aims, success. The rights, duties, privileges, preferences of every member of the family are dis- cussed. The Home itself, in its practical working, its food, clothing and shelter, its earnings, savings and spend ings, its amusements, industries and culture, will be found faithfully portrayed. There is no thought more beautiful and far-reaching than this of the solidarity or oneness of the Family; here, man is indissolubly bound to his fellows. The individual is solitary, but God setteth the solitary va families. The stream of time is crowded with the ships of Households, parents and children, youth and infancy, age with its memories, childhood with its fancies, youth with its loves, maturity with its cares. A beautiful picture represents such a life-scene. The Household bgund for the same eternity, trying the same fates. " In Cmi-niiooD's hour, with careless joy Upon the stream we glide, With Youth's bright hopes, we gayly speed, To reach the other side. ^ " Manhood looks forth with careful eye, Time steady plies the oar; While Oi.D A(;i'- calmly waits to hear The keel upon the shor»," CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. -What is this capital ?-TI,e rockoZVu'Z"'''' "''''''' ^"""^h to marryf » the Corner.Stone of lIomeT-Te ' 2 ''^ ""7 '°""''^'-- happy- When young persons should re 1 ^ •^'^-'^''h ,„ „,ake a Home "o.ne from wi,ho„C Lman A n ti ^'^i "l^-' "'»^-,-M.„ huild, hi. requ.suc ,0 a .safe engagen,cnt-Lonr TT """-" '^"""■'•-"''«<= "f character m,.or,a„tthana,rolta„.-AL"i '"' -^'^fi'^-enU-What is mor,! ..c NO OKHTS-The necessity ofsnetc7f„^'■^^°" 7'^" '"^^"'-^-' "- ""I«"-'--'"^e of a thorough know edt ^^^ '"''''""« "^ livclihood-Th,- fine ar,-Eco„on,y-.Miea„,„_,, f:;^^!,^ r""°" """-k-l"n« « r''"'^'^'r'''""'= "^ '^--"S H o e~ :T"' '" self-dcnial-HeU. houso.„KUher_Kxceliencc of cuhurLN "d of 1 """''' ^"^' '^'-J'""'"' Ho,ne .,ur Treasure House-Are tw her ^"°'' ""'P" "' ""■■ "-">«- Jcc-Cou„, ,ho cost-M.ke no e p i T .""'^ '-"-"'"^ "'^ ^"'"^ '" 'he Two weddin,.-A Benediction on U,e Home :.:!'. ;^'="-''-"--l ^^ride- ^Vhe„ .0 study m.;sio or 1 ,-1 'l';;;: J:-^'^^'''''" ""'^ "^-''^ '-'/- cvcry,hing-A wedding gif.-TirZ »'"<''— "ow to have time for - to manage workilfelen', L'e "t '""'"^•''-^-^^-K^s of Disorder- "-r.e for es-How worl,lls_Payi„g for breakages- What servants have no right to expect -Makmg-over dresses-Making-over neck-ties-To clean silk, velvet, and mertno-Economizing on the table-A soup relish-Cheese and parsley- Ashamed of eccomy or ashamed of extravagance-Making the best of what we have on hand-Aimless savings-What to do with old clothes-Ten dollars worth of clothes for one dollar-" Jumping in a bucket "-A genius for House-' keepn,g-A mother's meeting-C.lARlTY PAYS-Koreign economy-Ameri- cans are extravagant-Why P-Exlravagance in coffee-makbig-Kich French- men and poor Americans-Foreign Housekeeping-Saving in fuel-Buying in httles-Keeping meats and vegetables sweet-Manner of keeping milk and butter cool-Neatness m pantries-A home-made refrigerator-Charcoal cold water, and a bit of netting-Ammonia and plaster of Paris-A useful presen^- Economy honorable , „, S"-oo CHAPTER IV. Children-Their RrcHTS and LtAn.L.TiEs-Position of children in a Home- Vanety m .raini.,g-Mis,akes of goo.i ,^ople-When (o begin training- Uhat IS a chdd's first lesson ?-Teach a child patience-How to teach children to cry softly-Noiso-Quict needful to young ch.ldren-Causes of summer diseases-Dangers in nurse-maids-How chddren are treated by maids-Dan- gers of baby-cnrts-What t„ require in a nurse-maid-Don't burden your little tlaughtcr-An over-worked child-What every mother shouhl do for her own ch. d-Care of a babe's food-Frightening children-How to treat terror in a ch.Id-Engbsh nurses-Teaching children engaging manners-Teach the child to be generous-Errorr. and crimes-Obe„.c:^„i ,..1.. -,.._ , ,,,,,.,, — - .-......^... .„..,„^ — 1 lie care of Household health woman's work-Why Mrs. Black's family were ill-Use of fl' CONTENTS. Vtt f flannel -Thick shoes— Loose cIothes-Exercise-Sun<=},inp Ac ., . and a healthful bed-room-Beauty and heal h ThA ! ''."\'^^''-'«'"' keeoer— Care nf ih„ „ , . 7 , "^'*'"^— ^he housekeeper is the health- Keeper Care of the garret-tare of the cellar-Cellar and parlor-Drains- -For^ 'ff.i V '' '" •-'PPle-IIave a sick-room note-book- Variety --Jorget nothmg_\eatness_A beautiful dish-A Salad S.l .1 1 Sandwiches— Tea relish— Best w.„ r . ^a'a"— Saiad dressing- gift of God !. . .. ^ °f ^o»^""g meat_Sleeplessne..s_S!eep 3 118-149 CHAPTER VI. ''"ILe Tear'"'""''"^" "'^ ^^^"^ °' "°--mat finishes .he wall-Good ChaTdea m V " " """ n-luctive-Fertility of Palestine-E Jt_ Chaldea-VVhy Cousm, Ann's boys love the farm-Youth craves blauSr Beauty ,s c eap-A good sta,. in life-II„w children can crea elW b, ~ vT I- re?t T;::' r ^^■"'""^ „" "'"'^-"- ^ ^-e increased mo value-He ter a housekeeper-How a poor girl made her Home beautiful w'l. i. • jr 1 . ■"' "v.iuiy I tincy napkins — An ui'lvnarlnr— hat .s needful to a beautiful room-Reau.y and cyesiU-Care of the eyes How to escape colds-Preventing croup-I.ofuness of f.enu.y-Prime e JmcnT. of heauty-How ,0 buy furniture and caipets-Make comfort an m-C ^e Jf urniture-G.ve children low seats-Do not crowd furnltur - "t u, he 1 t:Vl^L 'TTl:'^^ -".-Servants' rooms-Visiting IL ^^l ,. '"'" . "" ; " «-i"aow— The power of beauty— An eleeaiit screen ^oi": .?..!'::::!"::'••: "^-'^^^^-^ ^""^"' baske.-,c dXr iSo-'TO viii COX77:X7.X CHAPTER VII. Industry m the Home-BocIcs-A call from Miss Black-Finding somethins to do-PeopIe and their work-Work a duty_A maiden lady of means find. work-Wliat Miss Black does-Helping servants-What ought girls to do ?- Housework should be learned-Are you making Home happy ?_Duty of parenf to tram children to industry— Home a centre of activity-A family well trained —A habit, and an object- Well-directed industry-Making industry pay— We should study our children-Working for the future-Give children a shire in work and profit-Boys' help in the house-A nice pair of lads-Work not an end-What is the end ?-How work injures-Fierce work- Work of pridel- Work for the lazy-Fretting over work-Unsystemntic work-Killed by fu>cs_ Rest m the evening-Evening work-Sabbath rest-Holiday rest-Rest in change of work-Disease from indolence- Vigor rises from labor-saving and earnmg-Escapmg doctors' bills-Hire your seamstress-Getting a summer seamstress— Two little children at work-Mischievous children-Work for a *'"m jTr'^r'*''"^ ''°^' * trade-Every girl's traile-Success from diligence —Model family fa " I7«-I9i CHAPTER VIII. Literature ,n the Home-How to improve a Home-Homes and books- Value of newspapers-A farmer's opinion of papers-An evening scene-On a stock-farm-Brought up on books-A favorite book-Scrap-books-Begin at he beginning-Train for the future-An age of books-Hugh Miller's first hbrary-Dickens' first library-Child's books-Sabbath books-How children «re taught to love the Bible-Pilgrims' Progress-How to lead children on in literature-Cultivating a love of science-Whnt to read-We must and will m'i f^r^'''^"P''^~'^""'''^-^^l'''^"''°"^~I'°^"7-When to read Milton and Shakespeare-Essays-Scien.ific reading-When to read novels- What novels-The most valuable book-Reading in the line of our work- ^hat lawyers, doctors, and farmers should read-Fred's four scrap-books- AVhat 1 homas and Belinda thorght-A letter on what not to read-Good and ev 1 of he press- We never forget-Books form our habits of thought-Do not read what lessen, strength, or robs of earnestness or reverence-Do not read secular books on Sabbalh-Do not rea.l what you desire to hide-Do not TrW r f""" "^"''"^"y-When to read-Saving moments-Books in parlors_Rea^-^^^^^ over-wor^-Wh, and u:;ie:re t-wo;;:^ f:,;:sir"'r '"'1"^"^ -^"^ '--^'^-o™' -Needless work-Hard commoe~eTh °'.'Snorance-Value of resting B^.nt ways of doing the s^ ^^i^hXjS-^-^— How to get supper-Knowing how to do it-Fear of seeming lazy"^^ "^ rust — Cleanuiir lin ves Sh..Il= f^, „i • . >-'"'" lotieanon Why we have brol.! T --"'--Wa.hnig-Babies cross on Monday !- recipes ..^::..:':"-'°"'" -°— Cleaning lace curtains-Excellent 332-359 CHAPTER XV. extravagance "-Heipmppt a I"^"" P'"^™'^ and children-" Women'i -Concealment is Hm'nalTh "'""" ^""'^^■^^'—^^ newspaper par.ngraph Heavenward " "/''""""'- "^^"'«8« service-The Doctor in •• SteppiL An Abo;::!;;:: -^^^^^-^^^^^^^ a„d daughters-m', aw- Attention T h old and at . ' " ->°-?-Paying family debts- Excellent .estiLy^-DaleTo. 7:^^ ^^mily-A ste,mother-. > - {._rt._iu_,_,,iaiiien aunts— Wiuiuci's maider 1 :* CONTENTS. I aunt-A step-mother's position-Her shions U. child,.en-Q„es,ions in buji" men r^'".' 7" hones.y-iie,,,,,. f,„e dress-Train chil.lren ,o h.,nest jud- menu about dress-Sumptuary laws-Curious laws on drc,s-13eauty ..h- Use tn dress-Husbands, lovers and sons-Few clothes, but ,ood one - and fa, oiks- Dress for small companies-For children's parties-For church -Du.ble goods_Fiowers as ornaments-Kibbons-Jcwilry-Too sple:,-, 4'0-4jS CHAPTER XVIII. MISTRESSES AND SERVANTS - Importance of a servant's position-The Home reaches beyond itself-Inefficient servants-Creating paupers-Positive aTd negat.ve losses-/,, a family and not -A servam in distress -A httle love-story-Permit no negligence-No disobcdience-Allowh.g visi- tors- . fo. lowers "-Need of adviee-UnJustly particular-The servant ."s i;:: m" t ^'''""r:-'' -eans.Abrutal maid-A generous n,;i<;!: Sevant^ .nstruct.on-fhcr rooms-A grateful servant-Politeness-See that cluldren treat servants Idndly-lvtchen conveniences-Good example and goo adv,ce-A thrifty woman-M, .ding household linen-Be ruled i p in cpe-Encouragement-Incentivc-Praise-Warnings-Good mistress, good ma,d-Dangers of housekeepers' ig„orance-A fashion of complain.-Keeting .00 many scrvants-A new way of increasing efficiency-Decision-Car f brooms-What a servant may be-My s^vant-A wise servant-Iierl bra. -Manha contrtves a filter-How to save sugar-Caring for servants' c mZ -Three maiden ladies-A widely extended charity ^.^^"^ CHAPTER XIX. A Young Man who Expects to Marrv-A deep question-The secret of Home happ„,ess-Conseientiousness-A surprise party-The subject of e ven nTl How buy furn.ture-I3uy for u,se-Kitchen furniture-Choice of f ,, "L How to buy a carpet-Harmony in furnishing-How to study e^t c " V comphment to a lady-How to make furniture-How to m.^V a cha, "\ taWe Ason,_Window.curtains-Shades-Divans-How to mak^ ^ t;;;::^ -A todette table-A lounge-How to make a paper-ca- r • > u a«t or-s view-How to n.ain.ain the happy n^.-2^i;t:.L:.-^l destroy a Home-How to discourage a man-How really happy chikTre" iZty \ ""'^ °' '"'^">'""« "—Courtesy in the' hapTJ H m^- Punctaahty_A punctual housewife-Dinner to the minute-Keep calmTem pers Have enough to ea,-A proper family-.able-Where we wa^te and Z. --.row NOT to coo beef-How to use cold meat-Cheap varieties o^ foodl -M m ho-,seli nT""'^,""'"""^ *'°"''-^^'''^' '» fc"-"'' r«-afIing-Thc art of telling a st„ry well— Ide-telling at meals ^, J 46o-4tsj CHAPTLR XX. Ancient an,, Medieval IIom,:s-A Christmas week-Christmas the Home feast- 1 he first form of the Home-f'atriarchal life-Servanls-The encamp, ment- I heir occupalions-I)iver>i<.ns-Music-Drcss-Jewels-Food-Prin- cesses as cooks-Hospitality -The Classic Home-Description of Roman house- Fou ,„ai ns _ Draperies - Healing _ Ventilating - Draining-Ancient family worship- I5ooks-Slaves_Dress-A Roman dinner-The Roman table-Cooking utensils-Family life-Holiday amusements-The succesv ^s of Roman civilization-The Celt and his Home-Character of the Cells- heir places of worship-Beehive huts-Celtic cookery-How they buried -heir dead-Saxons and their Homes-A Saxon tomb-Sources of information- The Jewsas architects-Saxon houses-Tlili noAun-Fuel-Larder-Lighls- TMrs- Saxon babies- Occupations-Amusements-Education-Guest^ Marriage relations-Our names for food -Bed-rooms-Parlors-Nauch-v dames-Clothes as heirlooms-Early English furniture-Western cabins- Indian wigwam. . . ■ • 4S4-5 « I CHAPTER XXI. Model HOME-Plato's letter-The sanctity of marriage-Immortality of the Home -Its divine origin-Bishop of Winchester on marriage-Building a house- General principles-Position-Frame work-Place forbed-rooms and kitchen- Ch.mneys-Closets-Beware of fires-Cisterns and fillers-Open fires-Furnaces -Color of walls-Paper-Color in furnishing-Decisive hues-The surroun.l- ings of a Home-Rustic furniture-Gardens-Convenient houses-Use of Homes-Famihes-Too large families-Home comfort-Religion-Extension 01 Home influence— Home blessinc '' 5«2-53a CHAPTER XXII. Things T„AT all should KNOw-Soup-making and serving-Meats and their cooknig-Game-Fish- Frying and roasting- Vegetables- Cleaning and cooking-Good recipes for-When to use-Wh-, to use-Made dishes-Side d.shes-Two hundred ways to cook an egg-As many ways of cooking a tomato-Cooking for chlldren-For the siek-Puddings-Cakes-Something to p ease children- How to make candy-Desserts-How to clean and repair clothes and furniture-Cleaning silk-Cloth-Furs-IIow to make household Imen last long-How to sew-How to make over old clothes- Very needful recipes for brea.I, yeast-Gruel-Tea and coffee-How to save-Poisons and their antidote-Fits and faiiiting-How to meet accidents- Hysteria-Care of children -Amusements in the Home-Safe games-Exercise-Gardening- Drmns and sewer,_C.re and cure of diphtheria-Gas and gas poisoning- P^ambrng-Smokc-bouses-CcllaiTb-Manageraent-Economy 533-573 ii'i hi M >4 The Complete Home. CHAPTER I. THE FOUNDATION OF A HOME. UR AUNT SOPHRONIA lives in one of our inland towns. She is the relative of many of the townspeople —the Oracle of all. Firmly intrenched in hv.T own opinions, and more th?n usually self-complacent, she is yet ready to give other people their due ; her ideas are broad and sound, and she is no doubt a great blessing to our com- munity. An indefatigable diarist, she has for many years recorded the best of what she thinks and learns on her favorite theme— THE home. These journals being too voluminous, and too full of private affairs, to present bodily to the public, she has at out earnest solicitation reproduced part of them topically, and with a happy facility in discussing her subject from the beginning. — J. M. N. W. Aunt Sophronia discusses, First — THE CAPITAL UPON WHICH TO MARRY. It will be a long day before I call myself old, simply because I don't feel old, and I have been much too busy in my life to have r;'-"' — ' , •-"' •••■ - liiFw ^niri, \vriu were baocs m my arms when I was woman-grown, are women now, and talking (11) 12 THE COMPLETE HOME. of marr„„g_at ioa,,l the two elder ones, I suppose they have been e„,„s „„, „,„, i „„^ ^^^ ^^.„ , ^^ V « ne, as .t does ,o people nVIin, on fas. trains, as if a„ .he word w re „ov,„g and .hey themselves stationary. The three girl ren,y.hree„,eee: Miriam I brought up; Helen was broth "P by her grandmother; and Hester eame up as she chose her mother, my sister, died when the ehild was ten and I, Koe,,eda,e, Wr .ther, says, he •. .hin.s eve^ inJiwI^^ o g^ .0 be I ft to develop on its own line,- Of all things 1 ,f / , J n,a ne John Kochodale, as once seen.ed lihely, L.ead of my s.er,he and I would have had some very serious difference! o opm.o„, .h,s subject of ■■ developing " being one of the manv w ereon we don't agree, I an, no. particuLarly sorry t i^ Men mstead of me who becan.e Mrs. Roehedalc not ! r K tlic Lord s opinions for matrimony come i Inn„ , before Pauls for celibicv T .i ■. .1 • , . ^ ^^'*>''' -.-.. because^;: ari::t::::::;i::r:r'^'-' havenotmarried SI ;::::;"''"■ "" ™*"» — • off .ha„ .heir mailed sil:; "" " ''"''" "' ■"='- -^c::i:i::iz:::i";r""'^'°"''»--^'''= .oba„d,wi.hou.„,a.„:i:r:i:::T„--™--n»biy w.™.ed my consent to his J^J^^^iZ" "''' '"""' "" "= I have no objections .„ Mart,-, If , had, , sho„,d long a^o THE FOUNDATION OF A HOME. 13 have stopped his comingr. I don't believe in putting off any duty until its performance is useless. I told Mark that they had my consent, provided they were not in too great haste about the marriage. "Pshaw!" cried the impatient Mark; "nevermind the trous- ieau: what I want is Miriam." I replied: "What you want, Mark, is a good wife, and what Miriam wants is a good husband. The step you two contem- plate is important, especially because it is final: if you make mistakes now, you must bear their burden through your joint lives. The preparation of the trousseau is the last thing now in my mind : I should be sorr>' to have Miriam at once so engrossed in dress and fineries, which in two years will be out of date, and 3n twenty quite forgotten, that she will have no calm time for consideration, and to prepare herself to hco and solve problems which shall be of the last importance, not only to herself, but probably to many others." I had some simple observations to make to my Miriam upon the step which she contemplated taking, and I concluded that my other two nieces might as well have the benefit of them, so I invited them to tea. Hester declined, and as she is scarcely sixteen, I reflected that I should have plenty 6f time to advi.se her about matrimony; however, after tea, just as wc had adjourned to the piazza, over came Hester. As usual, her .splendid dark hair was carelessly braided, and she had forgotten her necktie, pin and gloves; she fiwung her hat by the strings, her gingham dress had no fit, and her shoes were too large. John Rochcdale has a theory that the physical should be utterly untrammelled in its groAvth. I don't know how his theory will turn out for Hester's health and figure— at present she looks very slovenly. I have often been vexed at the meanness of her attire. Juhn i.s dreadfully stingy except in the matter of books and education. He tliinks b,ain \ fHi IM 14 l!i| 7y/^ COMPLETE HOME. "'= centre of the whole The ''' "'"' "*"'* »■■= "She,,. Which show :::iz:r' =■ "■■«'"= ' =- •- -hta^ ta'oly studies. The liblv " """""^'^ P^^^'-S "■-■• -e Pient, of boo. h I at" '" T'"' ^"^ ' "■'"''• "- John says, "There. noTJ :r"°","' '''°"" ""' '^^"^ ''« ''■tes. The oniy sense hH . " '° "=*' '-* - ■*■= for tutors. " '" ""^ '''""" '» '» S« !■" staid old n,en Well up came Hester just as we were seated > .::t;tt\v;?„-:;---^:-Hrir:^ ^\'"y, says she, "Mrs „ •"eant to go and hear her when of J.r""^ '° ''''"'■^' ^"^ ^ ^'-^ '-^ i.^- "otu•on..n^s,sp, : J': "'V''''^"'^^'^■^'^- ;;WcIl. isn't he right?" ask-s Helen. Certainly not/' returns Hester wfth I°"'- '"'"J?" asked "J won't chance; 1 mu-t -t-. u ' ~ ' ■ '' ^'"^ '^''^^"S. Grandmother say. Tim FOUNDATION OF A HOME. jg Ml go through the woods and pick up a crooked stick at last Suppose I don't marry? I have not enough to live on; I shall get old. ugly and crabbed, and have nothing to do. Yes, I must marry." "If you marry on such grounds as those, Helen," I said, "you will find your lot worse than to be single." " I thouglit Mr. Fitch was the man," said Hester. "O. I was engaged to him for a week, and I wished him in the bottom of the Red Sea all the while, so I broke it off And then there was Mr. Merry: I couldn't quite make up my mind to take hmi; and Tom Green I got tired of in two months." "I should think you would be ashamed to treat people .so heartlessly," said Miriam. "I should think you would be ashamed to treat yourself so^" named Hester. "Do you think your affection and confidence arc of .so small value as to be conferred and taken back like penny toys? Have you no respect for your own word, or your own dignity? or are you just an animated lay-figure, with reason and honor and emotions left out when you were made?" " You speak too harshly to your cousin, Hester," I said. "Well, I hatv a dunce r cried she, so like John Rochedale. Helen retorted with .some .spirit: "You, Hester, are so differ- ent from what /think it is nice for a girl to be, that I should be very sorry if you did like me." "O, I like you well enough," said Hester, with her royal indifTcrence. "only I don't approve of you; but we'll get on without quarrelling, as cousins should. And so, Miriam, you are going to marry Mark? Do you consent to that, Aunt Sophronia?" " Yes," I said ; " if Mark and Miriam have capital enough- to enter safely into the married .state." " I did iic^i know you were so mercenary," said Helen. And Miri*m quite sadly said: " But we have no capital, aunt." I' 1 1 Hi ■■H \ t > ( i ' i III H mi 16 7//£ COMPLETE IWME. " I will explain myself, girls," I added. " Let me first call to ^ your minds the Scripture, ' Which ol" you, intend. ng to build a tower, sitteth not down first and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it; lest haply after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it, all that behold beg,n to mock him, saying: This n)an began to build, and was not able to finish.' "Now, my children, if it is so important, and so customarvfor those who build, or enter into any business enten^rise, /. co.ul the cost when failure will not be final-when. if they err they can retrieve themselves, or they can give up all, and be, at'least he ncher for the experience-s it not far more needful to count the cost of such a .step as marriage? to- consider whether you have wherewith not only to lay the foundation but rear the superstructure of a Hon.e? Remember that the Home is an msftufon of God him.self; i^ i.s his ideal of the life of humanity • upon ,t. a.s ba.si.s and model, he builds up nations. A Home is' not an .solated fragment of life : it is an integral part of society Even, home has its infiuence. for good or evil, upon humanity It large Its sanct.ty, ,ts honor, its importance, is the care of our Creator, fell n.e, girls, in thinking of marriage, how far have you thought out the problem of your future? " "Why," says Helen, "I have thought of the c-clat of the engagement, and then the buying lots of things and havin. them made up in the ve,y latest style, and the cards, the cake^ he presents, and the bridesmaids. I shall have an elegant veil nd a wh,te silk, and be married in church, and hate J Saratoga trunks, and a wedding trip, and-well, thafs as far a. ve gone. I suppose after that one boards at a hotel, or has to .o to housc^eepmg. and Tn. afraid it would be dreadfullv hun d But no more so than flirting with one and anothe year after year, and seeing all the girls married off " "F- ..y part," sa,d Mirian, " I have not looked at all thi, 1 THE FOUND A no A' OF A ItOME. 17 this style and preparation that Helen describes, because I know I cannot afford it. Bu. I have thought I should hke a Httle home all to myself, and I would keep ,t as nice as I cou.d.nT would t,y and help my husband on in the world, and we 'sl^uld have thmgs finer only as we could really afford it And I should want my home to be very happy, so that" all who belonged m it felt that it was the best place in all the world I sliould want to gather up all the good that I could every- where, and bring it into my home, as the bee brings all its spoils to its hive." "And I." said Hester, "want to make myself a scholar, and I shall marry a scholar, and we shall be happy in leaming, and m mcreasing knowledge. And he shall be my helper and I shall help him, and so together we shall climb to the top' of the tree." Vanity, love, ambition. These were the three Graces which incarnated in my nieces, sat on my piazza. I said to them ' Let me talk to you seriously upon the subject of a Home. Two young people marrj^; they are united until death do theni part; the.r union is the beginning of the household; that house- hold, m ,ts first members, may last fifty or even seventy years- and whenever it is broken by the dea.h of one or both of them' .t W.I1 most likely live on in other lives and other households' wh.ch m it have found their origin. The household, then starts' m wedded man and woman : the man is a part of society ; he has MS business in the world; he goes among his fellows carrying he atmosphere of his home with him ; his ideas of honor, of unselt fishness, his objects, his ambitions, his energies, his geniality h.s sympathy, his physical vigor, are largely derived from his' home; h.s acts are stamped with his feelings; whether he vs goaded to grasp all and trample on all by a mad thirst for gain or a wild effort to cover his expenses by his receipts-whether' he .s happy or sorry, hopeful or discouraged, interested in good \ "♦ \ ; "I 18 T/r£ COMPLETE HOME. I i:^ or evil things, depends largely on his home life. Thus the various homes among men appear as active but invisible spirits in all the departments of business life— with the preacher in the pulpit, the doctor by his patient, the lawyer in the court, the broker, the trader, the mechanic, the laborer, making or marring insensibly but effectively in all that is undertaken in the world. The wife is also a part of society : she has her friends, her social, church and philanthropic duties, sometimes even some business of her own. Into th;se she brings her spirit as it is fashioned in her home ; if order, graciousness, good judgment, probity, reign there, she goes forth a spirit of graciousness, or abides at home a shining light to all who come there, teaching either by precept or by silent example. She makes her home a fountain of bitterness, or a well-spring of strength, bracing her husband's good impulses, or developing his meaner instincts. She makes her home a model of economy, beauty and propriety, or it is a false light of extravagance, spurring others to waste, or it is a head-quarters of misrule. "Children are born in this home: they shall be in all their lives what this home makes them ; they shall train up their future children to be ennobled or warped, as here they learned; they shall carry their energies and example into the world for better or worse, as here u-as taught them. The Home never dies; guests and servants come and go, and carry out its influences; like the souls in whom it began, like God its founder, it abides without end. In this home children receive also their instruction: their worldly occupations are chosen, and fortunes are laid up for them: their moral character is determined. You see thus that all the energies, the business, the industries, the inventions of the world, have really their centre, their inception in the Mome : it is the world's animate heart. Era.se all homes all home life, ties, needs, joys, and how long would the xvheds of labor and com- merce move on ? The inventor would drop his useless pursuits, 1 THE FOUNDATION OF A HOME. 19 the miner's toil would cease, the artisan would no longer ply his useless tools, man would find himself without spur or object in life. How important, then, is every Home! what a tremendous responsibility surrounds its founding! how needful to count the cost ! What have you in yourself of reserve force to make this new home a root of blessing? Count the cost, whether you have wherewith to lay a solid foundation and build a goodly superstructure." "Mercy!" cried Helen; "if I faced such responsibilities, I should be frightened to death." " Let us begin at the foundation," said Miriam ; " tell me, what is the first thing needful in starting a home ?" "The first thing," said I, " is sound moral principle. Let me tell you that I do not believe there are impregnably good prin- ciples that are not established on religion as a basis. The heart is so deceitful, and temptations are so strong, that unless the soul is braced with religion, principle is not secure of withstand- ing the onset of the world, the flesh and the devil. The true ideal of the home, then, is its inception in two who are Chris- tians, and who have a oneness of religious belief True, there have been very happy homes where parents held different dog- mas; but now we arc speaking of the best that can be brought together for the founding of the model home, and we say first a oneness of religious principle. Religious principle, which takes the 'thus saith the Lord' as an ultimatum, is a family anchorage not on shifting sands. The Divine Law is a court of appeal by whose decisions all the household will abide, and thus, where there is oneness of religious principle, the wedded pair have confidence in and for each other; they have found a solid rock stratum whereon to set up their new Home." "Well, aunt," said Helen, "both Miriam and Mark are mem- bers of the same church. Now I don't look at that in the light that you do, and I shall not refuse Frank Hand because I am a church-member and he is not." Tm \ i»ll 20 7//£ COMPLETE IJOME. >i s III h 1 ill !<■ "Why should you?" demanded Hester; "have you ever ia any way put yourself out for your church membership ? " I hastened to forestall a dispute, "Yes," I said, " Mark and M.nam have that oneness of rclJgrious principle which I demand as the foundation of a good home." "You are unromantic." said Helen; " I should have thought you would have said love came first. What an idea, for a man and woman to set up a model home with love left out!" "If they have sound religious principle they will not marry without love, because they will know that God demands deep and abidmg love in a married pair-love that will not grow cold norweao^. Love that has no basis in religious principle will often prove a passion, fleeting as night-shade blooms, leaving only some seed of discontent. Those who have religious print cple, recognizing the sacredness and the lasting nature of the marnage bond, will be very sure that they are not mar^^ing for wh.m for passing fancy, or from motives of convenience but hat they are really choosing from the world one whom they love better than all the world, whom they can take for better or worse, until death do them part. Therefore, having sound rehg,ous pnnciple as the rock-basis whereon to build, we lay in loyal love the corner-stone of Home." "Miriam," said Helen, mischievously, "have you that love ?" Hester came brusquely to the rescue. "As Miriam has not fnttered away her emotions in flirtations, as she has not shown her low estimate of love by breaking two or three engagements we w.11 beheve that at twenty-two she knows her mind L ol accepts a suitor to whom she gives a heart which she has carj. lully guarded as a thing of worth." othe^'T'- ' "'"' "''""^ " ^°" ^"' >'"" ^'•^ °'^- ^^^- theso other girls in your opinions." "I have lived with books and not wast.rl my time with -ir people," said Hester, scornfully. "~ ^ " ""^ THE FOUNDATION OF A HOME. ' 2I " I'm afraid you are getting hard and cymcal, my poor child " [ said ; "what will become of you ! " ' "Never mind me,- said Hester; "continue to instruct these other two on the subject of a Home." ^'Love so enduring and ardent as fits it to be the Home's co. ner-stone. must be the result of something more than a hasty fancy: love should be built on sincere respect, and this should anse from thorough acquaintance. This respecting love does not claim the perfection of its object, because those worthy of our heartiest and most admiring affection may have many faults but they are what may be called superficial faults-they are not ti.e crmes of falsehood, meanness, cruelty, self-serving or unfaith To have a proper groundwork for love in a thorough acquaint- ance, young people should not rush into engagements after a short mtimacy, else in a little while longer they may discern that there is no congeniality between them. Neither do I believe in engagements formed between the very young. Young people change so between the ages of sixteen and twenty-one, that they can hardly be recognized as the same persons. Especially Jf they are parted from each other during this period of changing tastes, they will grow into great unlikeness: in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred neither will become the ideal of the other and neither will prove to be that manner of persons which they were once supposed to be by the other. Under these conditions the engagement trammels them, and can only be productive of mis- ery. I should say, then, let an acquaintance as long as possible or long enough to promote a thorough understanding of each other's character, precede a matrimonial engagement." "And then," interrupted Helen, "just long enough time to get your trousseau in good order." "Not so fast, my dear. I do not advocate whaf is -nlled a long- engagement, but not so short a one as a few weeks occupied by shoppuig, dress-makers and milliners. I should want time ! '( \;h\ n 1; '1 I \ |HI 22 T/f£ COMPLETE HOME. If enough for the young people to calmly lay their plans, furthe* count the cost of their iic\w undertaking, and grow into greater oneness of opinion and object. Life is full of trials and reverses; constantly things are occurring to give love a rude shock, and care should be hac^ that the love is so well settled in knowledge and esteem, that it will deepen and not lessen by trials; that it will endure with patience; improve with time, like good wine; that it will, like the morning and the path of the just, grow' brighter and brighter." "I am afraid," laughed Helen, "that a few months engage, ment would give me time to change my mind. I should see my beloved's imperfections so clearly as to decline further acquaintance." " Better change your mind, if you change at all, before you are warned than after, and get into a divorce court." said Hester. "Why, Mi.s Lawyer, I supposed ^^« were strong-minded, and did not decry a divorce court," retorted Helen "I've a mind to shake you I "cried poor Hester, in a rage. A woman who has really strength of mind will be stronjj e..ough to see that all that defies God's law is really weakness Divorce ,s w.cked; but no wonder it is frequent when so many people jest at being variable and fickle." "We interrupt aunt," said Miriam. "How shall true love show Itself in home-building ? " "Love, like faith, shows itself by works: now what capital have you in yourself wherewith to build up for your love a worth, HomeP What material have you in yourself to enable you o show your love? . Love desires the happiness of its ha j.st said rather sadly that she and Mark have no capital I think m this counting of the cost of the Home Building J have just shown you that religious principle whereon to bui'ld - me nrst part of the capital needed, and Love as a corne. THE FOUNDATION OF A HOME. 23 stone comes next. Courage, then, Miriam; possibly you may discover that you are a larger capitalist than you thought^ Happiness is largely dependent upon health. Here one would hesitate to lay doun arbitrary rules, for there are so many circumstances which alter cases: and yet, as health is so largely a spring of happiness; as sickness or constant feebleness brings so much misery into homes; and especially as so many diseases are hereditary, and the unhealthful parent entails a physical curse on his children to the third and fourth generation-I should say, that where people know themselves the heritors of scrofulous diseases— of insanity, or manias, or other hereditary ills— then they would do well, early in their history, to choose for them- selves a single life." " But suppose a woman preferred to care for the last days of one whom she loved ? " said Miriam. "As I said, rules cannot suit every case," I replied. " Pity that her affections should have been entangled by one who ought not to marry," said Hester, " Yes ; because the sacrifice of herself may entail the life- misery of her children," said Helen, soberly. I continued . " Is it very heroic or honorable for a feeble young man, especially without capital to, bequeath to a family, to marry, and having been nu.^od and mourned over by his wife for a few years, to die, leaving an impoverished widow, with several sickly children? Would it not have been a nobler part for this young man to control his expectations and desires, to accept the lot wliich was laid upon him, to mingle only generally in society, devoting himself especially to no one, and, bearing his own burden, go out of the world glad of this at least, that he had not made others sharers in his diseases? " "My father says," remarked Hester, "that this rule should hold fcr those who have a love of alcohol, or who have klepto* ■^i te )i I V- 1 1? \ fill !'j 24 T//£ COMPLETE HOME. W mania. Who would wish to raise a family of thieve, or of drunkards ? " " I think, on the whole," said Helen, " that more feeble girls than young men marry, and that men are the ones who igno rantly or intentionally are deceived. It is not so, aunt ? Look at that side of the question." "A young man making his way in the world finds the struggle haro enough: how much harder is it when he marries some girl who .oems as healthful and happy as others, but who knows hant-ng over he, which, speedily developed by the cares and er f:T nr '^^^'^"''^■^^ invalid, entailing her mis- n on her ch.ldren ? Such young folks would be likely to •vc longer, and more comfortably, and surely with less anxiety and less eause of self-reproach, if they had remained singt ZTT "''""• ^°^'^' "^^^^ -^ Philanthropies were - a v.le selfishness to marry merely to be taken care ofT So M-nan, as you and Mark are. so far as you both have exper' hal M ^ °' ''''' "'P'^^ "-^^"' ^- "Pbuilding a hapi.y and long-enduring Home." courll'""'', '' '""' ""' "'" ''"''' P^^P^"-^^ '"^ to '"eet life courageously m my new Home." "That Home. Miriam, you are to build up within, while Mark bu d. .v,„out. On his part is needed business kn;wledge and ability „, whatever line of life he has chn«.n , ..ne or life aire., entered ^::'7:rt:r. :::::::: hT::,,'" """-; "'""'" ^■■— -With him,if s,:te ctetr!,::.7 ' *" '" '^ '"" •' '« " "-st ^ temng her exactly what Ins means are; but no man has a rirht f„ ..fr woman half „r „,.,„■„,.. „„ „,, „„ ,. „„ .„ .^ I' , J, ti^ "-" .. n,ake other pe.ple p,n,.rs. A health,, 'ind^,,:^ THE FOUNDATION OF A HOME. young couple can live on very' little money inueed; they can save and they can earn, but there should be something to save and some means of earning, and that ' something ■ and those 'means' should be equally and fairly understood by both Especially no young couple should start in life burdened by debts. Expenses in a household are likely to increase and not dimmish. Nothing so breaks the spirit as a load of debt Let every young man clear off the last dollar of his debts before he takes a wife. It is safe in verj^ many cases, we might say in every case, where the young pair are healthful, industrious and economical, to start without any cash capital, if there is in the young man's possession some reliable business, with its reason- ably settled gains; but it is not safe to start hampered by any debts. ' Owe no man anything— but to love one another.' " " Well, Mark has no debts, and he has a business," said Miriam, with a sigh of relief "While Mark in his daily business, which furnishes him a reasonable prospect of support, builds up his Home from without, do you, Miriam, know how to build it up xiithin? What do you' know about housekeeping? If it is Mark's to mAke money, it IS yours to spend it judiciously: to save it so far as you can, without sacrifice of comfort and decency. Will you be able to take his income and out of it produce in your home refinement, taste, plenty, good order, strict economy, and achieve at least M.cawbcr financiering, which will save a dollar out of the year's allowance? That is, will you fall xvithin the income, even if it be by never so little, and not fall without the income, even if it be by nc'vcr so little? This. Miriam, can be done only if you are prepared like the wise women in Proverbs to look well to the ways of your household ; to look at tlicm understandingly. You must know how everything should be done, even though you may not have to do it yourself If you rely on telling your fliaid to make good bread, and yet do not yours.;lf know how ^^ 77/^ COMPLETE HOME. that is to be done, you are likely to have poor bread or h ^ wastefully made. ITyou tell yo.r servant to be ecoTo^I l^ do not yourself know all tl.e ite.s of economical pra le sure there w,ll be waste somewhere. Streams do not risT^;; than the.r source, and first-rate housekeeping is secured 7 w ere there is a first-rate housekeeper at'th! l:^^^^ although she may not personally perform any of the labor '' Th,s may be pleasing talk to Miriam/' said Helen "but \t gives me the horrors VVhnf -^ a v urrors. vviiat a delmquent am I! bread! economy! financiering!" I ig-.ored her interruption, and continued • large cash capital which her huI^nlT '"'""'>"""='' '•"'>' capital „.„,„U L, litelyt „ : " . T "m """°"* " "'' grand b.i„«., abilitiL „„,,!;'; ' »''' ~.-tcrba.a„c= capital i„ „„. ,ik,„ ,„ ,.„„_ ^; ,.^: X/ '' -^ .'-^■■"^'. Helen, and mun.ble that i, ;, .,,, '"'"'■ ^°''' '•":"■ l--.eepi„, i, n„,vn,', ,:t'' 7™™ ^-'c%c- ■■and bea„t,, .i.h the „:„er 1 1 i, " tl itf'^' ''!'" ""' m-ic and i. orde. ,i,e .he ,,.„, , h i 'l: '"TT'" "i^ good housekeeping, which exhibit, it,.|f ,'! in T '^ *" wl'ich extends fro„, u,c atHcto th """^ '"""^'"■•'•■l""!.' '>°"r in the year i, f, f „ "■'"''"' "'"' ""■•"'!.■'' ever, ^--iii, r-, lai iio,„ common -a.npti,e.air,„; rhretrr^LT,"' "t^ '■^■•"■" ™ the wife's ,„„. „„„ „„„^.„ ,,j: y"'^ f "^ housekeeping " n>ay be. „n the husband, " """'•''"'• "'""••-" d, or bread omical, and 3ractice, be rise higher cured onfy of affairs, abor." ;n, " but it .' bread 1 ceping, a 'man can linst any ut it his rbalance lacking, t sneer, •ledge ; ' 'ith one ies h'ke r really ! cnter- eeping every ove as begin ejjing itevci' Quse* r//E FOUNDATION OP A HOME. 27 Iff!] "I should condemn myself, Miriam," I replied, "if I had allowed you to grow up in ignorance of housekeeping. Fa- miliarity, says the proverb, breeds contempt, but it is ignorance of housekeeping which breeds contempt for that art; true familiarity with all its departments begets profound respect for it." "Aunt Sophronia," demanded Hester, "do you consider good housekeeping and good scholarship incompatible ? " " Surely not," I replied. " Very many most admirable, prac- tical housekeepers are not scholars ; scholarship has not come in their way, nor suited their taste ; but wherever a woman is a sound scholar, she ought to be therefore the finer housekeeper. Reaching toward perfection in any one thing should lift us higher in all things ; it should beget a habit of application and thoroughness. Housekeeping embraces a very large part of our home duties, and we should all feel that nothing is too good and beautiful to be laid on the altar of home. Scholarship produces logical thought, correct taste, order, sound judgment; and all these are needful to good housekeeping, to say nothing of the scientific knowledge required, and which many use imitat- ivcly, not knowing that science is concerned. If classical study makes a preacher a better preacher, and a lawyer a better lawyer, it should make a housekeeper a better housekeeper ; a woman who could read the Georgics outdit not to burn her beef- steak ; the training which teaches her to construe an eclogue should bid her take the steak from the fire when it was properly cooked." " But her mind might be so absorbed in the eclogue as to for- get the beef," .said Helen. " That is about as reasonable as to say that because the lawyer learned to scan he.\ameters, he would suddenly become absorbed in them and forget his business when applying for a writ of habeas corpu.i." "You make me think of our Nora," laughed Hester; " father \ :>(l 'III 11 ^ ""^ COMPLETE HOME. cried ou, ,0 her, . Nora ! your salad is „ol crisp : ie seems wilted • d. you have i. i„ „a.erp. • Fai* i. was Lin' „ hT pa„ ^^■'il I do that?' says Nora 'R , '''^'>' on«.eup,ersurjj:::,,ir::-^ -;--;;* .'ay so, J'll put .eu, ^; ^^y ^ , ■ '"'I h"- If you ".outh i„ a salad leaf, here nor ye i„ Id .rlr '""•"= " thing is made right ■■■ "" "^land, where irery- :^-::/r::ir-F----- «lad I ever ate w if' ""' "' '"^ ""™^' " -' «- fees, beauty 1!„, t "'"''•' '•*''-• '"'-'I b-utin.l in i,s f»^ ^m-d r :zz 'r ' r T"t -' "- -""-' --^^ ■*r and neatness, L t L rh:;:! Xf ' "l "'""'"=' -ow to eool. rood is ,„,good ho e ^ J 'k"'""''' '° ''■"°" especially demanded of L '^"'P'^'U- hcommy will be in .l-emselves Ar^ luT'T ."T ' "'"' ""^^ "" ''"*"- ""t Can yon be ehet^dMi '", ' ''''"'"' """ ^*--""-' *-»P>ay and ha^mor l: J"' >°"7™^^. -^^ a greater to save a little every y ' " v ' ' "'"' """ '^ --""- -...orehamc.::::hrn::t::::;ti:rr' ™'' "^ can yon cut out frarmcnf.! ? r n'cnci, a:,d rc-maL- p p;,,, ,,. ^ '^^'^'"'■"t'' ? Can yo„ make. - ■ ^'^'^°'P°or.cvco^ woman should know T^" ^«-*-'*-JWHiai 'Uiff% THE FOUNDATION OF A HOME. 29 how to do this; if she is rich, she may be poor some day and need the knowledge, or she can now do this work for the objects of her charity, and so increase her means of usefulness. Burns, in the world's loveliest pastoral, says, his house-mother ' gars auld clacs look amaist as good as new.' You whp begin in humble fashion shall move on this road of tasteful, neat econ- omy in your clothing toward the virtuous woman's height of 'clothing her household in scarlet, and making herself coverings of tapestry, and her clothing silk and purple.' While in the olden time the housewife ' laid her hands to the spindle and held the distaff,' now machinery performs for her these labors, an 1 she can devote herself to cutting and fitting, darning, basting and turning, satisfied that to save is to gain ; and if she saves for love and duty's or lioly charity's sake, she makes the work beautiful and honorable. Every woman should be a good seam- stress as well as a good housekeeper, whether she be obliged to use her needle herself or not. There is a growing neglect of nice hand-sewing, and I know young women who are not ashamed to proclaim that 'they don't know how to make a button-hole, and their hemming looks like witches.' " "Well," laughed Miriam, " I can sew: so that's more capital." "Another important item in founding a home is, that the young people have and cultivate equable, cheery dispositions, that their homes be bright and attractive. A gruff, fault-finding, never-pleased man makes his home hateful; a morose, quer- ulous, .spiteful woman makes her home equally hateful. If such dispositions are in you, you must conquer them for the .sake of I Ionic comfort, that over your Household may rest the blessing of peace. Cultivate also for your home, intelligence ; there are other matters of interest needed to converse about than llu; price of potatoes and the draught of the kitchen eiiimncy. " Stories generally end with the marriage-ring, but here the' i .1 1' f ' ••ii. .*•'■,' 30 THE COMPLETE HOME. most .mportant story of life begins. After the marriage-rin^ come the greatest beauties of self-sacrifice, the strength of perseverance, the heights of courage, the tenderness of sym- pathy, the need of patience. Search yourselves and see whether you have m your hearts the germs of these things, which need may develop into luxuriant growth. Have you in yourselves the essentials for the founding of a home? Have you any home-making capacity? If not, then, out of consideration for the worlds already sufficiently great burden of misery don't marry. ' "But if you can look honestly at the future, see that it will not all be love-making and plenty and pleasure, but that •No loi below For one whole day escapeth care; ' that there will be clouds with the sunshine, and .ant mixed w.th plenty, and sorrow with joy, and pain with comfort; and if you find you have in you ability to • Make a sunshine in a shady place; ' -fyou can see two walking courageously together because they be agreed, hftmg up each other when they fall, standing by each other m disaster, and liking .good better because it is ^lared-then marry; and there_ will be one more true Home m the world, one more source of good, one more fountain of joy tc generations to come; the state and the world will be the better for you and for your Home." "Why!-- cried Hester, in her dashing way, "who is sufficient for these things?" •'All honest hearts who are capable of loving, and are cour- ageousy resolved to do, day by day, their ve^^ best, living down the,r disasters, and repairing their mistakes." ^ I sec." said Miri-TfTi "ivlv T-fM. a ^ of an Pn. X V"' ' ^ "°* "^^"^ ^^^ ^''oJe time an engaged couple consumed in preparations of dress and THE FOUNDATION OF A HOME. rriage-ring rength of s of sym- :e whether 'hich need /ourselves you any ration for iiy, don't fiat it will it It mixed t ; and if use they ding by ise it is Home tain of be the ifficient 31 house-furnishing, that leave them no time to think, when the subject is of so great importance." "If you take it so seriously, Miriam," said Helen, "you will grow as perfect as Aunt Sophronia's model, Mrs. VVinton. As for me, thinking of so many duties would make me gray in a week. I think I shall have to risk the married state without finding in myself any particular capacity for it." So in this world we walk according to our lights. Does the light burn low because we were started in life with very little oil in it, or because we have not been taught to tend and trim it properly ? Miriam is a very different girl from Helen, and / will not say it is my training that has made the difference. However, such as they were they married : Miriam and Mark, and Helen and Frank Hand. Frank and his wife had the most money; but Mark and Miriam had what I called the most real capital for the founding of a home— good religious principle, true love, health, knowledge of housekeeping and business, industry, economy, courage, intelligence, good dispositions; they were not perfect, but very fair samples of humanity. Miriam and Mark had a plain wedding and no wedding tour. They had a snug little cottage into which they went on their marriage day, and I called that evening to bid them "good- night." As I went away I prayed David's Prayer: "Let it please thee to bless the house of thy servant, that it may con- tinue forever before thee: for thou, O Lord God, hast sp6ken it. and with thy blessing let the house of thy servant be blessed forever." ( cour- living e time ss and li CHAPTER ir. ORDER IN THE HOME. AUNT SOPHRONIA'S IDEAS OF TIME-SAVING. HAD invited my three nieces to spend my birthday with me. During dinner Hester informed us that she vva<, Somg away to school, and expected to remain most of the time for four years. "Ridiculous ."cried Helen : "you w:II then be past twenty without havmg been in society; at wh.t age do you expect to be married at that rate ? " i- " " I have set no period for that impo.-^ant event," said Hester vv.th her lofty smile. " However, I have in my reading hap-' pened upon a deal of advice on that subject, and I find that Phys.c,ans and other wise people consider from twenty-two until tu^nty-five the .est age for marriage, and they assert that many evils of early deaths, feeble health, unhappy homes, sickly chil- clren and so forth and so on. result from premature marriages " If you must go to school," said Helen, deserting the first question, as she always does when Hester begins to argue " I hope you will learn music. Every one does, and you will s^em dreadfully stupid and unfashionable if you cannot play." "I shall not study music, as it would be a waste of time and money," replied Hester; "only those who have some apti- udo for music should study it; as for me, I have neither voice nor ear. and why should I drill on an art where I can never achieve success ? Why study music merely because it has be. coaic the fashion to pretend to pursue it? "if I spend on music ORDER IN THE HOME. two hours a day during n.y four years' course, I spend two thousand five hundred and four hours, and four hundred dollar. upon music, and then can only drum on the piano, and not plav w.th taste and sympathy All those hours and that money on tlie other hand, might put me in possession of some branch'^or which I have real aptitude. Folks should study what ,s suited to ihcmsdvcs, to their own needs and abilities, not merely some- thing that other people study Goethe says, 'We should guard against a talent which we cannot hope to practise in perfection.' " "Well, there is painting, Hester," said Miriam: "you have ^ real taste for the beautiful art." " I have taste, but no genius,"said Hester; " I can appreciate what other people do, but I cannot create beauty myself; I should be merely a mediocre artist, and there are plenty oUkan m the market. Now, I have ability for scholarship; natural sciences and languages are my delight; therefore I shall pursue that in which I can succeed." ; Is it better," asked Miriam, « to know something of even., thing, or everything of something ? " "Absolutely, one can do neitheV I said "Well, within human limitations, understood." It is better," said Hostci- "f^ i,„ r„r,l,™ T .""'"• toknowevctytliinfTO'somcthin!;, thoroughness ,s .„ i.sc,f a groat virtue, and »il, onto, into all your l.fe, mak.ng one i„ „„ things pai„„aki„g ,„d honcsf T-h-s devotmg yourself ,o one thing, however," said Hole* v,II mate you oncidead, crotchety, a hobby-rider, and y,^ Will be detestable." "These people of one idea have been the people who mov.d the world," retorted Hester. "The fact is, my dear girls," I interposed, "no one branch .r stuuy stands isolated ; it reaches out and intermingles and'tal 'en hold of^others. Hester's ideas are in the main correct; stidy i W :l \ :M! 84 7//2i COMPLETE ii^.vlE. ^f :i ' ; i i 1 .2ii ;un: } ; ;• < >'> liMis m !: that for which you find in yourselves most aptitude ; aspire to completeness in whatever you undertake ; value knowledge, and seize whatever comes in your way, and put what you acquire to use as fiist as you can. The Lord found great fault with the servant who buried his talent in a napkin." *' What do you suppose his talent was ? " asked Helen. " Time, perhaps : the one talent common to all." "And what was the napkin wherein he buried it?" asked Hester. "Disorder, doubtless; for you can bur>' more time in disorder than in any other Avay." " I must be very disorderly, then," laughed Helen, " for since I went to housekeeping I have no time for anything; you have no idea how behind-hand I am. i have not opened my piano except on a few evenings ; I have a whole basketful of accumu- lated sewing, and hose for darning ; I haven't read anything but two or three novels; I have not done a bit of fancy-work — " "My dear girl!" I cried, " if this is your recoid now, what will become of you when cares increase ? — say, for instance, if there were two or three little ones." "I'm sure I don't know," said Helen ; " I should have to set up another servant or two, and then we should be bag- of rags, and all our buttons would be off, I expect." " Indocd, Helen," I urged, "there must be a sad mistake some- where if you have reached this result. Living here in the vil- lage, with but two in the family, you have a very modicum of household cares; what think you of young wives on farms who have chicks to feed, several hands to cook for, butter to make, oftentimes no servant, or but a young girl ? and yet nearly all of them would make a better showing than this. I remember when Cousin Ann's three elder children were little things, and she kept but a half-grown girl., th.cre were no racrs and no mend- ing in arrears, and all the farm-work being done by half-past ORDER IN THE HOME. «- nvo, she could sit doun to rnake or mend, and in the evening P.ck up a book o,- a newspaper. She made a point of reading - much as she could, so as to be able to interest and instruct her ch.ldren. Her son Reed's wife has a young cl,ild and keeps no help; she sends butter and eggs to market, and manages so wdl m all her work that she has spare hours for making pretty and useful things for her house, for reading, and for doing all her own sewing, and not being behind-hand with it Depend on ,t,the secret lies in industrious order-in what is called good management." " But I cannot understand it, Helen," said Miriam : " your house has only ten rooms beside the bath, and you keep a sen'ant : where does your time go ? " " How c-m / tell where it goes, when I never can find it?" grumbled Helen. " I dare say j-.;. don't understand i:- Why aunt, there is Miriam doing the most of her own work- no matter when I go there, the work is all done; the house is neat asapm; Miriam is sitting at her reading or her sewing; .she has made perfect gems of fancy things that stick here and there m her house; even in her kitchen she has fancy wall-pockets for stnng. paper and little bags; fancy holders, a pincushion hung by the wmdow, a crocheted scrap-bag. and. if you'll believe me always a bouquet in the window ! " "Why not have it nice? "said MinWm "Ti . . , r. . J ^' ^»iinam. I have to be there often, and I can work faster vhprr. fi,- . „ ,r u . ■ "^"^^ ^"'"ff-^ '■^re handy, and eniov myself better when things are nrettv wn u , ^ t oH,v<=r,.. • T ^"^c prettv. Why should I run up- want of a conv.ment bag to put them in ?" " W hat amazes me is " <;tiM M/.i„« « i for all these thing,." "' ^^'^^^ ^^^ ^^^ the time •' I got it fVom Mrs. Burr for a wedding gift," said Miriam. Do explam : I wish she had been as liberal to me." \ •' 3G r//£ COMPLETE HOME. "She sent Tiie a book of her own making, two boards of gray Bristol, bound in red satin and painted with one of her lovely landscapes. Inside was only a single page: that was white Bristol, illuminated with a wreath of flowers, bees and butterflies and this motto within: 'Always be one hour in advance of your work.' I saw at once that here was the key to the Order that reigns at Mrs. Burr's. If I were an hour beforehand with work I should never be hurried nor worried ; if I began at once, the habit of being in season would be fixed. I saw also that the one hour would by good judgment in planning grow to many, and I should always have time to spare. I concluded to think the housekeeping matter out and have an exact routine for it; it was litde trouble to do that: I had only to copy Aunt Sophronia : she always had exact order here." " But I hate routine," yawned Helen. " Then you hate what you never tried," quoth Hester. "I believe," cried Helen, " that it is all my servant that makes the difference. You, Miriam, are not j^lagued with a girl. I dare say, Hannah has no order about things, and then, she is so slow!" " But you; as her mistress," I said, " hnve a right and a duty to arrange an order, and see that it is maintained ; if there is no order, of course she will be slow ; disorder is the slowest worker in the universe. Have you any fixed time for anything ? When do you breakfast ? " " Wnen the breakfast is ready," cried Helen, " and the same for dinner and tea ; only Hannah is prompter with tea, so that she can get out." "And on what day do you make your bread ? " " Why, when the bread runs out, and usually Hannah ' forgot,' or ' didn't know,' or something of that kind, and we have a day of baker'-: bread." "And do you not look after the state of the bread-box and see % ORDER IN THE HOME. 37 'thing; a lack of plan and cnrr;;y , your part, Helen, is ruining your servant, and your domestic comfort. A Household should have laws like the IMcdes and Persians, which never change ; and privileges which arc like an Englishman's house, an impregnable casde," I said. "Miriam," I asked, "what and how much do you read and study?" " We take two monthly magazines and a daily paper, and I read those regularly: and Mark and I enjoy talking over the news and the various articles at meal-times." " Why," exclaimed Helen. " I haven't read a paper since I was married, and Frank might as w.ll talk about the aff->irs of the moon as of daily news, for all 1 l.nov.' of it!" "Then Frank will begin to go from home for company," I said ; " by all means read. Helen, and have something to talk about beyond Hannah and the butcher." "Go on, Miriam: what else do you read?" said Hester. "I arrange for an hour each morning, except on Saturday, h > I' \ i'i r 38 TJ/£ COMPLETE HOME. I : i i I n ill; .MJi for study, and I spend half of that hour on French, and the other half on History. It is very little, and would not satisfy such a student as you, Hester, but it serves to keep those stud.cs fresh, and I gain a little. Then I have always on hand a bod< or two: the popular book of the n.onth, or something that Mark has read and likes, or that some one who knows about books has recommended to me, and that keeps my mind fresh and active. I get what books and articles I can on house- keepmg, on cooking, furnishing, decorating, repairing, window gardenmg, anything that will serve to improve our home at small cost, or save expense, and introduce variety; and I have set up a scrap-book of valuable items." "But where do you get the time? for I often find you at sewmg or fancy work," said Helen. "I took from the very first an hour a day for sewing; thai ^o far does for my mending, and keeps mo with work in advance finished. When I feel inclined for fancy work, and on rainy days when there are no calls, and in evenings when friends drop m T can do a good deal, if it is all at hand in my basket. \ go out every day. sometimes in the morning, to give the order, at the grocers and market, and as I keep a list of needs in my Icitchen-book. I am saved the trouble of frequent errands; and one afternoon in a xveck I give to social duties, calls, visits and the like ; and so I find time for ever)'thing." " Because you have a time for cver>'thing. Are not your meals at a set time? Don't you have a set time for each kind of house-work ? " asked Hester. "On Monday my laundress comes early. She washes our c othes-of course It is a small wash. While they arc diying she scrubs, blacks the stove, cleans windows, or does anything I want her to do. Then in the afternoon she irons the clothes' after tea I mend them and put them away. She is a strnn. Hcfve woman, able to give a good day's work, and I pay heT ORDER IN THE HOME. 39 considerably over the ordinary price for the sake oi thorough- ness and despatch. She finds everything ready for her work when she comes, and with a cup of hot coffee for her dinner, she gets done without over-fatigue." " Why Hannah dawdles all day over just our little wash," complained Helen. I resolved to find out some time the "reason why" of Hannah's " dawdlingy " Friday is my sweeping-day ; and on Saturday I bake bread, pies, cake, apples, a variety of things," said Miriam. "And you do all your own work besides?" asked Helen. "The laundress' toy comes to clean the front-steps and tho grass-plot— he does any little thing I need." " Dear me ! and your hands don't look any the worse for it, either," said Helen. " I take care of them," said Miriam. " I have a mop for the dishes, and a high-handled scrubbing brush for pots and pans, and a cork two inches high for polishing the knives — and nothing is so nice for knives as corks for the bath brick and the after rubMng— and I use gloves when I sweep and dust, and whenever else I can. I shall not sacrifice my hands needlessly, nor shall I sacrifice my work to save my hands." " Now tell me why you don't keep a girl ? " asked Helen. "As a matter of economy," said Miriam. " Mark has only a thousand a year. We a/u/d keep a girl, and he urged it ; but I am amply able without the least injury to myself to do this work. If we kept a servant, with the wages, the board of tho sen-ant, and the fact that she would, however well watched, bi* less saving than I am, our living expenses would be increased by one-third. Without the servant wc can lay up something, and we can buy more book.s, and give ourselves various little gratifications. There w;>s, in (:irt, nothing to sacrifice but a little false pride, and I dared to be independent." ' 'Bl iJ' 40 THE COMPLETE HOME. ■j I 1 ; , ^1 ■ I'^'i 1 " Why is it that maids arc bound to be less economical than their mistresses ?" asked Hester. "Because their money is not invested in tlie housekeeping" said I ; " tiie dollar saved u ill not go into their pockets ; so, ev^e'n A-ith average honestj' and economy, they will throw away far more than the mistress. Human honesty is a curious affair and embraces very many degrees. ' The cloak of truth is lined with lies,' saith Longfellow's 'Aromatic Jew.'" " You remind me of our Nora," .said Hester. " I met Iicr going out with a pail of milk .-she .said, 'Sure the bye left me Ann Skinner's pint, and her mc quart. Troth Tm on me way to change the same.' 'I should think,' I .said, 'that Ann would have seen the error before now; he h:ft her the milk first ' 'Aa a-//;' should Ann see it? ' says Nora: '../.. has the quart.-' "Just give me, Mirian,," I said, afte, we had laughed at Nora's logic, "a sketch of your day." "We rise at .seven; by eight breaklast is ready, and while it H-as cooking I -uad set the table and put n,y bed-roon. in order. Always by half-past nine, .sometimes sooner, n,y work is done. Then I take my hour's stu li 16 ' If ,,i I r//E COMPLETE HOME, burden; Frank will find you less a-reeable, and will wonder why his home has no regularity. His clothes and drawera being out of order, and his meals at irregular hours he will have cause for complaint, and become, by degrees,' a fault- finder. Your se.-vant will go from bad to worse, for it is very easy in this naughty world to improve backwards—?,^ cares mcrease, the complications of disorder will increase. Tell me Helen, have you a place for everything? Arc your bureau' drawers .n order, and has each one its own appointed contents so that you could find what you want in the dark? In your dining-room, has your china-closet a fixed place for everything? •so of your store-closet, and your tin-closet? Have you fixed places for your bed and table linen ? Are your kitchen towels m a drawer of their own, or do you and Hannah consume five Icn, twenty minutes here and there looking for things ? " "Dear me!" cried Helen: "ver/ little is in order, and it looks a prodigious task to put things in order, and make' Hannah orderly, or be so myself If J had only begun so W'hen I was married ! " •' But it will be a deal easier to reform now than next year ; yoH had better inaugurate order at once." "Vou see;- continued Helen, "grandma is a good house- keeper, m.t .he did not care to be troubled teaching me and I d.d not hke to be bothered with learn:ng. and wo both kept saymg 't.me enough.' So the chambermaid took care of my room, and grandma did my mending if it was troublesome and put my bureaus to rights every now and then for me. and now really, aunt, order is not in me." "You must attain to it," I said, "or you will have a very unhappy married lif.. An acquaintance of mine, one of the most prematurely aged, fretted, worn-out women I ever saw, wrecked her home on this rock of Disorder. When I knew her she had t!x children; not one of them had a drawer or closet for their ORDER IK THE HOME. 47 own clothes ; the stockings were mended or not, as it happened and when it happened ; when mended, pairs were not rolled tog.'ther, but the family supply tumbled into a basket or drawer, and at the cry, ' I want a pair of stockinets,' came the reply ' to go and look for them,' and the little ones wore odd hose as often as mates. Sunday morning was a scene of worry : buttons off, hats mislaid, shoes lost. The muff, last worn in. car!)' spring, was tossej upon a wardrobe, or on the spare-room bed, and found next fall dusty and moth-eaten ; the parasols, used last on some Fall day, were stood in a closet, or behind a door, or laid on the bureau of the vacant room, and spring found them faded, dirty and mice-gnawed. Spasmodic housc-clcanings availed little, as disorder began again as soon as things were put to rights. No one was ever contented nor sure of anything. The house-mother was always tired, never had time, was always in a worry and nervous. A good cook and seamstress, she accomplished nothing by her knowledge, for v,'here she built up by ' knowing how,' she pulled down by disorder. Neither her husband nor children thought their home a ' nice place : ' it was to them no centre of their desires, no model, no 'dear nest,* whither they would always fly. I tell you, Helen, in a Home it must be order or ruin. Order is to the house as morality to the human being — a sheet-anchor." The next day I went to sec Miriam. It was about nine o'clock, and my niece was just taking her place in the sitting- room window. She beckoned me in. I said :"Ahl this is the time when you study." " That is nothing," she said ; " I am alwa/s learning when I talk with you. Let us have a morning visit ; you shall stay to dinner. I can pursue my sewing and fancy work, and the ijtudy nan conic in by itself some other hour in the day." Miriam's sitting-room was in Invclv ord^rr. She is tn.'!n^ cheap and easily, taken-care-of winter garden, and over it hung a very handsome basket of droopmg plants. I saw in one corner a rather lar^^e basket of work folded into neat bundles. I inquired what it was. Said Miriam : "My time for sewing more than suffices for myself, so this is some work for the Missionary Society, and f^.- the Children's Home. I have been cutting it out in my spare time for a week past, and now it is ready to sew upon, and as it is here at hand I can set a good many stitches at odd moments. See here is some pretty work I am doing for our missionaiy-box 'l like to send pretty things away, and I thought the little sums I had to g.ve m this way would go further if I bought material and made •t up. If I have more time after that, I ^vill sew on the material of those who have no time to give. After Christmas I shall beg.n on a set of shirts for Mark. He will not need them before next summer, but you know Mrs. Burr's rule is to be before-hand with your work, and in warm weather one feels les, Ike sewing and there is more company, and Mark and I may take a little vacation." Mi^riam went up-stairs for some patterns to show me, and as 1 heard a knock at the kitchen door I answered it. The kitchen Was in beautiful ■ • - m beautiful order; the floor was covered with oil-cloth, and the window^ hes high, and e moss com- V." " Money to the floor. Dned square i up; in the ■'ith a thrifty / low ferns, ich did not and easily- ^ handsome 'athcr large ■ed what it f, so this is Children's for a week- re at hand ee, here is I hke to s I had to and made ; material s I shall ;ed them is to be feels less d I may '.t, jf i ', .-«' and as 1 kitchen oth, and ''i WiS W lfc ' - \ i-' M f' . thei The the of V oftl oft shot in ir labo flooi wise ham pots suita sauc thinj expc that her \ fortl boile into I launc begin bluin Held store, girl f kitcht dry, a dress imali attaini i ORDER IN THE HOME. 49 there were rugs of carpet lying before the table, stove and sink. The fire had been arranged to burn low until needed for dinner; the vegetables for dinner were standing ready in earthen basins of water. I was glad to see that the table and the wood work of the sink were covered with oil-cloth. This saves a great deal of time and of hard work in scrubbing. Young housekeepers should remember that they cannot practise truer econ .ny than in investing a little money in things that shall spare them severe labor, and save their time, as for instance, coverings for kitchen floors and tables. I was glad also to see that Miriam had been wise to provide articles for use that were light nd easy to handle. Young folks often strain themselves by lifting enormous pots and water-pails, when small, light ones would be far more suitable for a small family. Miriam generally uses white metal saucepans and skillets instead of iron. In her kitchen every, thing was handy, to spare steps. Mark had been at some expense in fitting up an outer shed-room for a snug laundry, so that the washing should not be in the kitchen, where Miriam had her work. He had had a new drain opened, and bought a stova for this work with a stationary copper boiler, beside the clothes- boiler. Miriam leaves the clothes-bags there, locks the door into the kitchen, and allows the laundress to have one key of the laundry door ; therefore, on Monday morning she can come and begin as early as .she likes, and she always finds soap, starch, bluing— all that she needs— ready. Now while I was at Helen's the other day, Hannah left her tubs twice to go to the store, once for soap, once for blue. I don't wonder that that girl never gets on quickly with her work. I saw in Miriam .s kitchen closet a shelf with plenty of bar-soap cut, and spread to dry, as this saves it in the washing ; she never gives the laun. dress soap that has been drying less than three weeks. It is by small cconuiiiies and cares, such as this, that large economy is attained. One does not. in a household, make some great fifty, 'tH • 60 THE COMPLETE HOME. w or a hundred, or two hundred dollars saving, but ft is the little saving of five, ten and twenty-five cent pieces, of half dol- lars and dollars, which in the year mounts up to a goodly sum total, and these savings represent not meanness, but care; not cutting down the rations of the hired people, not buying inferior tea and flour, and poor butter whereof less will be eaten, but get- ting the best, and in quantity, and then allowing no 'wasting Miriam has in her laundry closet a tea-pot and c little caddy with some tea, so that her laundress can make herself a cup of tea as soon as she lights her fire, and thus not be forced to work on faint and hungry until after the family have finished their break- fast; a plate of rolh or of bread and butter is left beside the tea- pot, and thus the working-woman is heartened for her toils and can comfortably wait for her later morning meal. Miriam 'says that next spring she means to have breakfast at half-past seven and as during the summer Mark will have Mr. Cox's place he will be home for a five o'clock dinner ; Miriam says she will then have a deal more time to herself, and she means to do all her own dressmaking, and plans for many other undertakings. On Saturday, about five o'clock, I called upon Mrs. Burr. I found her in the sewing-room, rolling up a bundle of fragments of cloth. She said: " The seamstress has been here a fortnight, and has just gone Congratulate me! all our winter sewing is finished; every item for household or personal wear is complete; the last button is Bcwed on, and all articles repose peacefully in their places." "You arc .rly," I said; " it is only the third week in Scd- tembcr." ^ " I always have my summer sewing done in April, and my fall sewing in September; then when hot or cold weather comos suddenly. I shall not hear my household clamoring for garments th;it arc not nsnHv A {•■y"r.,i :_,.__i _/• _. . .. c.„.,,ii inVcHiwr/ of our possessions, taken in March and in August, shows mc what clothing will be ORDER m THE HOME, gj needed, and I keep supply always in aavance of demand. I begin by cutting out all the work, doing it by degrees as I can ''pare time. I put the bundles in a large basket here in the sewing-room, and with them the thread, sUk, tape, buttons— all the needed materials. The seamstress comes with her machine for a fortnight, and during that stay I devote most of my time to superintending or aiding her work. Then we are done, and before me lies only the light work of weekly repairs." " Suppose that you could not afford a seamstress ? " " Then I should pursue the same plan, only beginning earlier, and I should put less trimming on the clothes, for I think it is foolish in a house-mother to cxhau.st her health, and deprive her children of her company, and herself of improvement, merely for the sake of a few tucks, ruffles and puffs, the place of which neat hems and plain edgings can very well supply." "And when is the House-cleaning coming off?" I asked "Next week," said Mrs. Burr; "first the sewing, then the house-cleaning, and if nothing unforeseen occurs, the first of October shall see us ready for winter, our time generally at our own disposal." "Ah," I said, "with such management I don't wonder that your family of three sons always find the mother ready to be their guide, philosopher and friend; that your house looks as if Fairy Order held the helm ; and that you have so much time for beautiful and lucrative work in your studio." " Well," laughed Mrs. Burr, " I was hern xvith a mania for order." "Of order," I replied, "it can be said as Shakspeare says of greatness. Some arc born orderly, some become orderly and others have order thrust upon them. You were born with a talent for order. Mrs. Winton savs 1 lestcr wi!l U. ..„, and Miriam was. when I first took her. very disorderly, but'by constant training she had o.der thrust upon her, and now it reigns in her homo." \jmi Jf:i-il1 52 THE COMPLETE HOME. \\ I " Order," said Mrs. Burr, " is called heaven's first law ; the Apostle bids us, ' Let all things be done decently and in order.' If knowledge is the mainspring of a home, order is the balance- wheel ; fully half of Household miseries arise from a lack of Order." Pursuing my investigations in regard to Order in the Home, I concluded that I could not do better than walk out to the Ridge Farm and pay a visit to my Cousin Ann. We do not know who sat for the charming portrait of the wise Woman in Proverbs : Cousin Ann might have done so, if she had been living in Solomon's time. Cousin Ann is soii>c years older than I am, and when I was young I often paid her long visits; also once I spent a winter with her. The eight-day clock, heired from Cousin Reuben Ridge's father, did not run with any more perfect smoothness and regularity than Cousin Ann's household. At «rst I could not understand why it was that accidents and unexpected occurrences, guests or sickness, never threw the Home into confusion : things went on just the s-me whatever happened. Cold weather came remarkably ea • well, no worry about heavier clothes, for Cousin Ann ha- made them ready while the weather was warm. Some one was called off on a journey : no cries of not being prepared, for Cousin Ann always had clothes in readiness in excess of demand. The family were hungrier than usual, or an extra hand was called in : the bread did not give out and precipitate an extra baking day, be- cause Cousin Ann always baked more than she thought would be needed. I asked her : "A.id if that ' more ' is not eaten at table, is it wasted?" She replied: "Not at all; then I have .stale bread for toast, for puddings, for stuffing fowls ; when all the bread is eaten, then I make other kind of puddings, stew the fowls instead of roasting them—though they a., ■ 'itful stuffed with mashed potato— and we go without the >rit Yes, indeed, the old clock vtight have got out of order, ORDER IN THE BOMS. 58 Ihough it never did, but Cousin Ann's house could not get out of order. Well, as I said, I set off for Cousin Ann's on a delicious May morning, which made the three-miles' walk seem a very short one. Sarah, Cousin Ann's daughter, was at thfe mac'aine making summer gowns for her mother and herself. I asked after Hattie, the younger daughter, who is away at school for a year, and then I said : " Cousin Ann, tell me how it is that your work never drags or falls behind." " Why," says Cousin Ann, " I look ahead and see what is coming, and' I keep a little in advance of demand. I don't lose an hour in the morning and expect to make it up in the evening: night is the wrong end of the day to borrow from : work never goes briskly in the after part of the day; in the morning it is cool : we are rested, fresh and strong, and then is the time to get the work out of the way." " I suppo.se you have a regular time for everything?" "I .should think so," laughed Sarah : "a regular month for house-cleaning and heavy sewing, and meat-curing and fruit- drying ; a regular week for gatheiing herbs, for putting by winter bedding, and clothes in the big chests — all mended before put by; a regular day for sweeping, cellar-cleaning, baking, churn- ing; a regular hour for milking, hunting eggs, feeding chicks; a regular minute for rising and retiring, for breakfast, dinner and tea; give Hattie the day of the week and the hour of the day, and she knows what we arc doing here at home." " Well," said Cousin Ann, smiling, and setting her pudding in the oven, "that is the way to get through. Nothing is for- gotten: nothing is left undone. This, for instance, is the week when the herbs are cut anJ dried, while they are green and Rtrong; all the neighbors look to me for simple lis. This week my girl washes the blankets, suns the heavy quilts, and i clean, mend and put by furs, thick clothes, winter hats, and winter bedding, and Sarah finishes the summer sewing. In the -r:' |!( ■A THE COMPLETE HOM>i. ] li 1 ■' • 1 fah .t w,H be a pleasure to take out clean whole things which have lam packed in camphor and lavender; we also shai! be aU ready for haying and harvesting with the extra cooking Tust now my girl churns every morning; while .be doe. thai Tget breakfast, and little Jack sets the table and brings woo.' for the bo., and feeds the chick.; Sarai, n>cantime is a.aking beds filhng water-pitchers, getti., the sitting-room to rights, and the hal and front porch. When we sit down to b cakfa-. the house >3 clean. As soon as breakfast is over, jack cieans up the back- door yard, and gels from the garden the lettuce or voung ,oens |or d,.n., : then he's off to school ; I, as soorr as'we ^ the breakfa.1, ^ tv the sprin^ house to the butter and milk: Sarah attends to the pudding or biscuit baking, or on ironing day sets at the fine i.oaing, and the girl does up the br. kfast-dishes deans the kitchen and makes the vegetables rea Iv for dinner' On .vashing day Dick churns before breakfast so li.at the eiri can get on with the wash. It is easy enough, all o. it, if you know fa.rly what you want done, and how to do it. and then don . dawd e away any time thinking what to do first, and who snail do it. "I always thought Order was a mainspring in house-work," I sard, and novv I am sure of it : how could any one get on with farm-work without it?" "There are plenty who t^^ it," said Cousin Ann, "and they are fretted sick and grow old before their time, besides being h.ndered n. family comfort, and in making money. And ther! - another thmg to be observed in Order: don't a-ou>d work Notice the clock: it ticks one second at a time, and gives each second its due. Some folks kill themselves trying to wash. iron, bake and clean, all on one day. VVe bakeTwi!e a week and one of the baking days is also ironing dav. that is Tuesday, for it saves having such a big fire on an day . ^vas oumg my own work and my Ihmily wa ■ nailer I OPDER m THE HOME. rjg never did any baking but bread on ironing day, so as not to over-do myself; now I bake what I please, and Sarah and the girl do the ironing. I can tell you, Sophronia, if mothers would only look at the matter fairly, they would see that an example and habit of Order was one of the nicest dowries they could give a daughter: one to prolong her life, to build up her home, and be always a source of comfort to herself and family." I .1 B,n^ i i «S-^ CHAPTER III. ECONOMY IN THE HOME. POUNDS AND PENCE. p(^' DON'T think our little town ever before saw such truiy hard times as we are passing through now. Our bank, which wc always thought as safe as the Bank of Eng- land, has failed. Its fall dragged down two of our largest mercantile houses. A fire last autumn destroyed a manu- factory, where some two hundred of our working-people found employment. The flood in the spring damaged the roads and some of our public works, and so our taxes have increased. There is hardly any one about here that does not feel the pressure of these hard times. Economy must be the order of the day But what especially strikes me is, the various methods in which people practise their economy, and the different effect it has on their minds. Now some are ashamed of it, and Iv^d as soon be caught stealing as saving. Among our other troubles, a railroad, in which a good many of us had invested, stopped paying dividends, and so our incomes are lessened. I saw that I must reduce my expenses, and I sat down to consider how. I did not wish to cut down my giving, for the harder the times are the more need there is of charity. I had calculated to fay out about fifty dollars on my winter wardrobe, in work and material. I cut that down to ten, just enough to make over by myself what I had on hand ; it would be a pity if I were ashamed to dress according to m^' means at my time of life. I always had kept a bitr fire all (66) ECONOMY IN THE HOME 67 !: I xvinter in the parlor: it looks well, and I have the room comfort- able to sec my friends. However, my dining-room is nice and always in order— I can sec my friends there: that parlor must be shut for the winter. I keep only one servant, Martha; she is very efficient, and I have paid her very high wages. I said to her: " Martha, my income is much lessened this year, and I cannot pay such high wages as I have done. I think, however, you are worth all you can get, and if you can find another place! where they will give you what you have now. it will be right for you to take it." Martha said she would think about it. At the end of a wcck she said she would stay for whatever I could give. She remarked that a good home was a thing worth keeping; that when hard times pressed on everybody, she did not expect to be the only one to escape. She was very sorry that I was pressed for means, for her brother had been thrown out of work and could hardly feed his large family, and Martha had thought of asking me to allow her niece, ten years old, to come to us for her board; that would relieve her parents of her support, and would put the child where, by learning to be a skilled servant, she could be in the way of making her living. I thought this over. Surely it was a work of charity to help the poor man provide for his children. The little girl would be greatly benefited. In hard times it becomes every one to help his neighbor. I called Martha. " Martha, if we took Ann, do you think that by a little closer economy in the house we could provide for her board ? We have never been wasteful, and we must not be mean ; but, possibly, we could manage the cooking a little more eco'nom^ ically, and have it just as good, and it will be an advantage for Ann to sec the most scrupulous care exercised in the household," Now thi. V i„. putting Martha in a position where her interests ! - ; 08 THE COMPLETE HOME. I;! I would be my i.,- st.. SI.e replied: "Well, ma'am, if you're so kind as to t^k. /Uiii, I'll not let her cost you a cent, nor make a particle of trouble." "Very well." I said; "bringr her here, and train her carefully for my niece, Mrs. Rogers, will want a girl some day. and thai will be a fine place for Ann, if sUe is <.-.ei,crving." Shortly after this. Kitty Merry, a seamstress, came in. She complained of the hard times, and of lack of work. She has a dollar a day with her machine. I asked : " Do you pay more for your lodging than last year ? " She said, " No." So I said, "Well, as times are hard, why do you not reduce your price to seventy-five cents a day? People are economizing in everything." " But I'm worth a dollar as mu-h as ever." "Very true; but why expect to be the only one who -,,es not feel the pressure? You must sacrifice as do the rest." " I think it is wrong for folks to begin their cutting down on the work-people," said Kitty. "All do not begin there. I began on my wardrobe, on the number of my fires, and on n.y preserves and cake, and then to the wages. You must reflect that there will be even larger demands on on^ charities than i, .ual. It i. better for yoP to lower your pric , and get full work at seventy-five cents .x day than half work at a dollar ; when you are out you get your board- ing. An employer <>Ka. his income .-nt down fn.a two thousand to fifteen hundred, a:.d he proposes to pny his servant -,vo a.,d a half instead of three dollars. TJ-- .ervant gets her board and washing just as usual, but ries out against losing one-sixth of her cash income, when th. st. has lost one-fourth of his. The working-classes refuse 1 .k. s wages ; the employers presently find that they can get on .without hiring .rvants ■ suddenly there is a host of the unemployed living on their past ECON'OMY m TI/2 ROMS. m savings, borrowing of each other, or going in debt ; and then a loud cry of need and of working-people in destitution arises, and if employers hire them again, it is at a greater reduction than was first offered. Wages rose with flush times, and they must fall with close times. Masters and servants arc virtually in one boat, and must share the same storms and calms." " Well, Miss Sophronia," said Kitty, " is that fair to divide the servant's little, because the master loses of his much? You say the hired girl loses a sixth of her wages; but it costs her just as much to buy a yard of merino as it does her mistress; and takes just as many yards for her gown." " It appears to me, Kitty, that people should provide for them- selves according to their station in life. I don't see that the maid must buy merino, because her mistress does, nor that she must have three frills and a train, because a banker's wife docs. Why, Kitty, must you fret yourself to death for money to buy two or three button kid gloves, and button boots, and aprons with edging, because Mrs. Hand wears them ? She always has iiad these things. In the providence of God she was born to it. You cnn get good thread gloves, neat hemmed aprons, laced or ela boots for half the money, and why not be suited with them ? As a child you went bare-footed and bare-handed, and wore blue check, and no shame to you; you were always healthy, honest, cheerful, useful and esteemed; why torture yourself to keep pace with fashions of a sphere pecuniarily beyond your reach ? Some day you may find large means at your command: be sure you will know how to spend •Mm without .uiy previous practice." "And," said Kitty, " you think I'd better reduce my prices ? " "Yes, and your expenses. Don't be ashamed of untrimmed, turned, or neatly mended clothes ; don't be ashamed of calico. You'll always look like a lady, if you cultivate the manners and scrupulous neatness of a tr;.o lady; and nothmg is so unrefined as cheap finery." '"■ J' III 60 THE VOMPLETE HOME. Mary Semple came to-day. complaining that she could not get laundry work; people were giving out less; she was out of H'ork, and her expenses were the same as ever. I asked her what she had a dozen; she said, promptly, "a dollar, and for rough-dry, half a dollar, and dresses were extra, and when she tvent out, a dollar a day." I said to her: "Just give out that you'll take clothes at seventy-five cents a dozen, and thirty cents for rough-dry. and reduce your price for^gomg out twenty-five cents: you'll get work enough." " But I'm worth as much as ever," said Mary. "True; but people cannot give it. Hard times pinch the moneyed classes, and they pass your share on to you • if you won't take it cheerfully in lessened wages, it will be forced on you n. no work. Half a loaf is better than no bread You made no trouble about a rise in wages. I remember when fifty cents was a day's wages, and fifty cents a dozen good pay for washing What laundress grumbled when prices doubled ? " I' I ought to get me work's worth," persisted Mary. "You can't get something out of nothing," I said ; " nor more cash out of a purse than goes in. What you have a right to cla.m IS prompt pay when your work is done. People have no right to ask you to take your pay in driblets when j-ou do the work promptly, nor to keep waiting and coming for your pay when you served them promptly. You estimate people's means by houses which they bought and furnished in flush times You forget that they have to pay taxes and keep those houses up, and that their property is often an embarrassment in hard times." "I'd take the property andth<, embarrassment, willing! " cried Mary. ^ "Very likely; but the Lord has not given us our own choice of evrls. If he had we'd manage to make fools of our..eIve. Somehow or other." ■*u ECONOMY hV THE HOME. 61 "And you don't know any one to help me, Miss Sophronia," urged Mary. " Yes, you can help yourself by lowering your prices, and economizing a little closer ; so doing you will tide over these hard times." Wherever I go, whatever caller I receive, there is the same cry of hard times and of economy, and for the last there are dozens of methods. Mrs. Black, for instance, has taken her children out of school, taken a poor servant in place of a very good one, stopped her contributions, given up her church pew, discontinued her magazines and newspapers, while her two grown daughters are just as idle, and the family are just as dressy as ever. Now she calls that economy — / don't. I went to sec Helen. Frank's salary has been cut down, and his railroad stock is bringing him nothing. Helen was quite unhappy. "What am I to do ?" she cried. "We have five hundred a year less to live on, and I don't know where to lessen expenses. Now I must have a new silk dress : that will cost a hundred dollars." " Yes," I said; "and then you will want a new set of lace and a new hat to wear with it, and some other new things, and they will.be fifty dollars more." "And where is the money to come from ? " queried Helen. " Why not give up the silk ? Your dark-blue and your brown silks are good." "But I've had them ever since I was married, and how it looks ! — always the same old dresses." " But they are handsome, and with Kitty Merry's help you can put them into this year's style. You will then feel no need of the little extras which the new silk would demand. Your last winter's hat, rejuvenated by your own good taste, would do very well. With no fine new dress to display, you will care less for G2 I r//£: COMPLETE HOME. %%\\i II ! ! going into society. If you go less, you will be at liberty to entertain less company; and if you entertain less company, your housekeeping expenses will be lessened. Moreover, if you go out less you will have time to attend to your own baby, and you can dismiss your nurse-maid, who is very careless, and is likely to ruin your child, and the little one will thrive better under mother-care. I will lend you my little Ann now and then to help Hannah. If you will give up the idea of the new silk, you will, in its consequences, save some two hundred dollars. You will thus be likely to keep out of debt ; and don't hang the mill-stone of debt about Frank's neck: it may ruin him; and with an increasing family, debts will increase insu^ad of being cancelled." "But dear me, aunt! No nurse-maid! no new clothes! To withdraw from going into, and giving companies! How it will look! It would be an open declaration of poverty." ^'' Not poverty ; but of needed economy, and brave honesty." "But, aunt, what will people .say?" " Then you get the silk, and you keep the nurse for the sake of strangers' tongues? It i. a mere matter of pride ? Now, Helen, don't let pride get a foothold in your household. What does Franklin say of it ? ■ Pride is as loud a beggar as want, and twice as saucy. When you have bought one fme thing you must buy ten more, that your appearance may be all* of a piece; but it is easier to suppress the first dcHrc. than to .satisfy all that follow.' Come. Helen : to save is to earn: to earn is your husband's part, to save is yours. Frank will be happier at home with you and his child than out in society ; he will like privacy more than the company that is bringing him into debt. • Every wise woman buildeth her house, but the foolish pluckcth it down with her hands.' Every house-mother should begin to lay the foundations of her children's fortune., and not introduce debt as the moth and the rust which will destroy all accumul.v tions." ECONOMY IN THE HOME. 63 "That is true, aunt, but see how mean it makes me feel. There are the Blacks all out in fine new clothes, an4 Mrs. West- cott has bought new parlor carpet and curtains." " You mean she has gone in debt for them. Now, Helen, we must not measure our expenses by other people's outlays, but by our own purse. How would you view Martha's wanting a Lyons silk because I wear one ? In home living every one is emphatically a law unto themselves. It is a false sentiment which demands display : this emulation in domestic establish- ments often lays the foundation of ruin. Women ought to be able to create a public sentiment in favor of economy and of a simple and delicate taste in the administration of their homes : they could create such a taste only that they are ashamed of practising economy, and hide it as a criiiic. They respect and imitate the showy, rather than the solid. Now, Helen, where you stand three roads meet. Indulge your desires, your emula- tion of those who spend more than you can afford to spend, and you will pass along the road to ruin. Frank will become a broken and discouraged man, and probably die early and in debt. If you enter into no debts or extravagances, you may keep on just as you are. with a very small margin to work upon, and nothing laid up for a growing family, always in appre- hension of disaster. By careful economy, living within your means, saving a little, and being your own law ^n expenditure, you may enter the road of assured prosperity. The hand of the diligent maketh rich." " You couldn't get ver>' rich, aunt, with such servants as mine: they waste and break so much." " Then if you keep one less servant there is so much less of this cause of complaint ; if you will go about your own house more there will be less breakage and waste : the eye and hand of the mistress always present is a great safeguard in these par- ticuli.fs. As to breakages, thty arc the result generally of care- J I l-r — -= -^S»il 64 THE COMPLETE HOME. HI' if |"l ill lessness, and servants have tw right to be careless. For their own sakes as well as your own, you should talk the matter over kindly with them, and tell them that they must replace what they break. It is well to know how to excuse, to forgive, and to relax your rule on occasion, but it is no honesty to yourself, aor kindness to your servant, to allow her to recklessly destroy your property. In your house she should be schooled in care and in honesty, so shall she be more fitted rightly to direct her own. Talk over matters with Hannah : tell her frankly that you must use stricter economy ; that you shaU do without a nurse, and that she cannot have quite so much time for herself; that you can no longer afford to replace her breakages, and that as you shall not allow your narrower means to reduce her wages, you expect her to help you save carefully in your house. Why, Helen, as I came up here, I saw Hannah scrubbing the porches, with half a bar of fresh soap lying melting in her pail; and she explained a terrible smell ,M:e in the kitch-.-n, by saying that she was burning • the bone . id skin and trimmings of a ham, because ' if she thrc :iu;m n.t it made the rats worse, and the rats were eating up ail jour potatoes." Now, child, what sort of economy is this ? All that rough fat should be saved in a place secure from rats, and Hannah should each month make up a little keg of soft-soap for scrubbing and dish-washing; and Hannah should be taught not to leave her bar-soap melting in the pail; while, as for the rats, you should with a good trap, and caustic-potash laid at their holes, declare persistent war until such destructive pests are banished. If you permit mice and rats to destroy your provisions, and stray cats to rambie into your cellar— as I just saw one doing and returning with the leg of a fowl— there will be in your house a hundred little leaks, which it will take more than a hundred one-dollar bills to stop." " Oh, aunt, what shall I dol " cried poor Helen. ^M ECONOMY IX THE HOME. 65 " Practise economy as a Fine Art: make a duty and a pleasure of it; it is the mortar wherein you lay up the walls of liome ; if It is lacking, or is poor in quality, the home building will crumble. Don't be ashamed of economy: study it; consult about it; don't confound it with meanness : economy is the nurse of liberality. Meanness is going in debt for luxury: is keq)in8 behind-hand the wages our work-people have earned : is making a show on the street and withholding charity: is presenting cake and confections ostentatiously to our callers, and stinting the kinu or quantity of our servants' food." Then I mvited Helen to take tea with me next day, and meet Miriam and Mrs. Winton. Then I went over to Miriam's. She was in her spare-room, and called me to come up. "What, Miriam," I cried, "a handsome new black silk!" " No, indeed," said Miriam, " it is the old one that I have worn this four years ; " and she took it from the bed to display it "And how ever did you make it look so niccl>- ? " "I sponged it with a teaspoonful of ammonia, mixed in half a pint of warm, weak coffee; then I pressed it. I sponged and pressed it on the right side as I meant to turn it. The velvet of the ci'ffs, collar, pockets, button covers, and so on, is from my old black velvet waist." " JUit that was so wrinkled and mussed I " " I steamed it thoroughly, laying it wrong side dawn on a wir« netting over the boiler, shaking it a little now rmd then ; it mad.« it look almost like new. See, lierc is my old black cashmere ; I ripi)ed it up, washed it in warm water where soap bark had been steeped, and ironed it on the wrong side. I shall get a couple of yards of silk for trimming, and make it as good as new. Here, too, is my ancient brown merino, ripped, sponged and prnsscd, with a small investment in fringe and velveteen—it must come out a new gown; so I buy nothing this fall. You 'i':' G6 THE COMPLETE HOME. i I iff !* know Mark expected two Iiunclred dollars advance in liis salary, and instead, he gets one hundred less, so 1 must economize closer than ever. Mrs. Burr told me how to rejuvenate my gowns, and she has taught me several new ways of economizing for my table." "Mrs. Burr is a perfect Domestic Encyclopedia," I said. " Pray tell me some of her suggestions : I am myself retrenching, in my own behalf, and for the sake of my neighbors." "The first thing I think of is cheese," laughed Miriam. " Mark is extravagantly fond of it, and we pay eighteen cents a pound. Mrs. Burr says she cuts two or three pounds up into squares, and puts it in a very dry place; then it always is grated before it comes to tlie table. Used in this way, it is much more delicate than cut in pieces, and one pound of cheese goes further than two as generally used. Sometimes she varies the dish by mixing a little parsley, chopped very fine, among the grated cheese. She say.-, her physician told her that people do not understand the virtues of parsley: it is excellent for the nerves, and for use in rheumatism, and should be constantly used in preparing dishes. I have learned from Mrs. Burr to make several new soups; and a white soup madj of fresh bones, with rice, a little macaroni or tapioca, cliopped potatoes and chopped parsley in it, is delightful, if ynn put a tablespoonful of catsup and a teaspoonful of grated cheese in each dish as you serve it. The last time I took tea at Mrs. Burr's, she had a vcrj' pretty di.sh of bread, cut thin in diamonds or rounds, .spread with butter, and then with grated cheese, and laid on a little china dish, with a wreath of parsley around it." "I remember," I said, "that Hester told me .she should, in her housekeeping, use a deal of parsley, because the ancients did .so; that both Virgil and Horace note it as holding an honorable place at festivities." " Mr.i. Burr," continued Miriam, " knows how to use up h'ttle i^ •■ i ECONOMY IX THE I/OAfE. ^y things in her household, i„ a very appetizing way. You know one often has a Httle jelly left from a meal, or from making a cake-only a spoonful or two goes a good way, attractively if bread is cut thin in pretty shapes, and spread lightly with the jclly. Mrs, Burr said when her children were little these 'jelly breads ' ^vere their delight, and often served them in place of nch cake or meat at tea, which she did not think safe so near thcr bed-time, while the good bread, spread with fruit-jelly was wholesome for them. The last time I was at Helen's, Hannah i^ad thrown away half a loaf of bread and a dish of broken p.cces, which she said were getting mouldy, and were of no use I jnt her two recipes which I had from Mrs. Burr. Here they ^minn handed me her note-book, and I copied the recipe nrcnci Sauce.-" Cut stale bread in fine pieces; mix with it popper, salt, sweet herbs, a liftle fine chopped onion, if desired • '""■sten with warm water, and stir in meat-gravy or soup-stock Jiitil ,t ,s nearly as soft as bread-pudding ; bake half an hour If more convenient, milk and butter can be used instead of the (,'ravy." The other recipe was — n>ra,iMJ^rcaH.t^'l,,y pi,,,3 ,, ^,^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^., are hard all through. When needed for use put in an earthen chsh m,lk enough to half cover th.n, a spoonful of butter, and one o. sugar; cover tight, and let tacm .immer. Smooth a tcaspoonful of corn-starch or of wheat flour in a little milk and b'cakin"."''"' " "'" "' ''" ''■"'' '' ''''^ "^'^"^■^ "'^"^"^ o' " They are both nice for variety, and serve a.s a .ood way to keep broad-crusts and scraps from wasting, Vou .nn^! cracKor. the .same way as that Breakfast Bread," "One good turn deserves another." I said. "I wiP write in your notebook my recipe for- If 68 THE COMPLETE HOME. \\\ "Mock Macaroni. — Take broken crackers of any kind ; crumb them up rather fine, and stir into them sweet milk, a Httic butter, pepper, salt and two tablespoonfuls of grated cheese. Have enough milk to bake them for three-quarters of an hour; let them be a light brown on top." "Apropos of the grated cheese," said Miriam, "last evening Mrs. Black walked into my house, and hunted me up in the dining-room — a liberty which she allows herself For my part I prefer that my dearest friend should knock. She looked at the table. 'What! pine-apple cheese! I cannot afford that for my family these times.' ' No,' I said, ' it is common cheese grated.' "She looked curiously at me. 'Why did you say that? Now I would have let it pass for pine-apple.' I replied, ' Mrs. Black, economy is honorable, and I am not ashamed of practising it. I should be ashamed of any extravagance. If I did not need, as I do, to economize for myself, I should feel it a duty to do so for the sake of oth< rs who are in straits.' " Miriam and I went down-stairs. I remarked: "Your work- basket looks like a rainbow." "Another bit of economy: all my neck-ties are getting made into the latest styles. This cream silk washes as avcH as muslin; so, washed and ironed, it is getting a frill of nice lace around the ends, and appearing in a new character. I think this black one will be lovely." She had made the scarf-tie into a bow, button-holed the edges with rosr colored silk, and embroidered a pair of rose-buds in each of the ends. A pink silk tie had also taken the form of a knot, and :,he had transferred some elegant embroidery on the ends. I should have thought it had just cost two dollars. " Mark Rogers will never be poor with you for a wife, Miriam," I said. " He got a fortune in the vvife who said she bad no capital. Yours, my dear, is perpetual capital." ECONOMY IN THE HOME. 69 I engaged Miriam to come to tea next day, and then intended k) go home, but Mrs. Smalley called me in. She was com- plaining as usual— a woman with many good points, but who does not know how to manage, and is chronically indignant because her sister is richer than she is. \\^>11, I went in. She said: "I tapped for you, Miss Sophronia, because I never make a stranger of you, and you usually manage to give me some advice when we are in a tight place— as me and Mary most generally arc. I do feel vexed about Mary. She's as nice a girl, and as pretty a girl, if I do say it, as her cousins, and it is hard that they have everything they want, and she gets nothing." " Pshaw, ma," said Mary. "Its so," said her mother. " Now Smalley has just said he can't afford for us to have the dressmaJ^er here this fall, and we must do our own sewing. 'Twon't be such a heavy job, for Smalley is so short of cash we'll get precious little to sew on— and there's Sara's girls all out in bran, span, new clothes." " Pshaw, ma," said Mary, again. "/I's so," retorted her mother; "and we get little enough time to sew. We've had no girl since last spring." " But you are only three in the family, and of the three you two are grown women— perfectly well, also. I should think j-ou would get the work done easily, having fully half of every day for sewing, or such quiet work." " Well, we don't, somehow. I keep things neat as wax, any one will allow that ; and nothing in the kitchen goes to waKte : wc make our own soap, and our own bread and yeast; and half this house is covered with rag carpets I made myself; and just .sec these rugs— a dozen of them in this house— Mary has braided out of strips of old woollen and flannel clothes." "They are very pretty and useful." I said. " I see the braids Mi 'I 'I 70 THE COMPLETE HOME. II are made heavy, and are sewed together by the edges, either in round or oval shape." " Yes ; and I must say a girl that is that industrious ought to have as nice clothes as Sara's girls. But no— not she." " Pshaw, ma ! " reiterated Mary. "lis so;' insisted her mother. "And now. Miss Sophronia, what would you do in our place ? I want Mary to be nice. And she gets invited out with her cousins, and she won't go ; because she says they have such a power of nice things, like other young girls, and she has none. Her best frock is all out of fashion ; and she has no fancy aprons, no nice ties, nor spen- cers, nor jackets, nor pretty collars ; and if I set out to buy them it would take a mint of money, and when Smalley says he can't— he can't. Why the money he has laid out for her hardly will buy one good dress, to say nothing of the other things ; and what would you do if you were me ? " " It seems never to enter your mind, Mrs. Smalley," I said, "that you might possibly use what you have on hand." " We never have anything on hand," said she. " We wear our things clear out, or outgrow 'em, and then they're done for." "Mother never throws away things," said Mary, "c'.nd we have a whole trunk of bits of things, and a closet solid full of old worn-out, outgrown dresses and jackets. But they're none of them worth anything." " You see, Mrs. Smalley," I said, " when you want something in recent fashions, you go and buy one new thing and have it made up. You never make over your clothes, or use the dresses of past years to remodel for this year. What I would do would be to keep that money for something else, and not buy Mary a new gown at all." Thev' both looked dismayed and .^stnnishfd " If you'll promise to exactly follow niy directions," I said, ECOXOMV //V THE HOME. 71 " I'll engage that you shall lit Marj' out nicely with the money Mr. Smallcy gave you ; and what is more, you know I shall not ';alk about it," " Trust you for that, Miss Sophronia," said Mrs. Smalley. 1 says to Mary the other day: ' I dare say anything to Miss Sophronia, for it 'ud take the Resurrection Angel himself to bring out what's once been buried in her ears.' " I .said to Mary : "As for that closet of clothes, you know I saw it last winter, when I was here while your mother was sick." ' And I'll never forget your kindness if I live to be a thou- sand," interrupted Mrs. Smalley. " So come, Mary," I said ; "you and I will go up-stairs, and if you'll take my niece, Mrs. Rogers, into our partnership, I'll agree to teach you what shall be worth a fortune to you." Mary and I went up-stairs. Mary said : " Do please show me how to be nice on a little money, so that mother will not fret so at the difference between me and my cousins." I like Mary: she is a friendly, indu.strious girl. I remember once when I was ill she came to my house every day, insisting on being of some use, even to helping Martha. I thought I might not only relieve her of some present annoyance, but might give her a lesson of use for all her life. Mrs. Smalley is one of the kind of people who save aimlessly ; opposed to wasting, she hoards, but her stores are practically wasted, because she puts them to no use. I wished to teach Mary to use what she had before purchasing more. Mary opened the trunk of fragments, odds and ends of afl Kinds, collected during a score of years, and neat!y rolled in bundles. I said to Mary: "Here is a parcel composed of silk and ribbon: those shall be your neck-tics." " There is scarcely anything nice there," she replied. ' \'nu must take thcni to Mrs. Rogers, and she will show you how, by the aid of a little embroider)' silk, to create use and M v. I \ ■ !*i L II ' <'■' w p ( illj:: 72 THE COMPLETE HOME. beauty out of these fragments. This little roll of embroidery and scraps of edging shall be a nice outfit of collars and cuffs and undcr-sleeves. Come and spend Friday with inc, bringing these Haifa yard of fine linen, and half a yard of fine lawn,\and I will show you how by taste, a little knovvledge of transfer ^^■o■■k^ and your neat sewing, you can provide yourself ten dollars' worth of pretty articles for less than a dollar. It is early in the .season : le: the matter of your dress go until you are encouraged by the wonders which you perform in other ways." I opened the closet. " Here is an out-grown dress of barred muslin. That shall make J-ou two white aprons with ruffles ; get it ripped and ^vashed. And here is the pretty embroidered muslin you had when j-ou were twelve." "The nicest frock I ever had," sighed Mary. "Rip it up: with the aid of edging and insertion from that bundle, you sh.-U have a lovely fancy sacque to wear to evening companies." Mary's ^■... brightened up. " I believe we can make use of these old uw,.,;^ and I shall go right to work ripping and pressing." When I went home I casually remarked to Martha that I had been at Mrs. Smalley's. " I hope she was redd up, and fit to .see you, ma'am." "Oh, yes: but really, Martha, I cannot .see why Mrs. Smalley's work occupies all her time ; she and Marj. are neat, good workers, and have only Mr. Smalley to work for iij that^'six^ roomed house." "Dear knows, ma'am," said Martha; "Mrs. Smalley is busy enough, if that is all; she is one of those folks who would sfuul iind jump in a bucket all day, and then wonder why they didn't get on far, when they kept agoing all the time." With which parable Martha left me to my meditations. Miriam came early next day, and I told her about Mar> ECONOMY IN THE HOME. 73 Smallcy, and asked her to invite the -^irl to spend a day or two witli lier, and then teach her how to make up tne pr.Uy aiticlcs of dress which she needed. " She will prove an apt pupil, and I wish you would show her what ou have done for your own wardrobe: I know you are n(jt ashamed of your contrivings in that line." " Oh, by no means ; quite proud, on the cont: "And then, my dear, do let her stay all day, ami lielp you ge*- dinner and tea, and xpound to her your 'order' and your method of getting work done. It may go far to making a happy woman of her, and her future home a place of content and not of worry. You, ]\Iiriam, have a real genius for housekeeping, and you should in this way let your light shine on your young neighbor: it will perhaps influence all her life." " Certainly: I shall be glad to have her, and help her; I will write a note now, and let Ann take it to her." So Miriam wrote her note, and then began to tell me of a "Mother's Meeting" which had been started. Some of our ladies meet with poor women who are now in unusual straits from lack of work; they give them materials to make up cloth- ing, or sell them at wholesale prices what they themselves have purchased at such prices; or even lower, things which, having funds in hand, they have bought at auction sales. They en courage the women to bring clothing for their families to be remodelled or mended ; and .spend the time of sewing in dis- cussing domestic affairs, in exchanging recipes, in givinglnforma- tion about domestic economy, and rules for keeping houses healthy, and making cooked food yield its full value to the consumer. " Cousin Ann is President," she added. "That is a great charity," I said, "and very kind in you to take part in it." "Indeed, aunt." she replied, " I begin to think charity pays; I am sure I have learned in those meetings a great deal that has % IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) h // \v *«? V. f/. f/- 1.0 1.1 1^ IL25 M 1.4 M 2.2 2.0 1 1.6 v <^ /a ^^ rnuiugrdpiiic Sciences Corporation V 4v # ^x [v ^ 23 WIST MAIN STRUT WiBSTIR.N.Y. MSaO (71«) 873-4S03 '4^ ^ ,> ^ ^^4^ ^ <^ ^ * & ^ '^ 1^ 74 THE COMPLETE HOME. saved me as much money as I have contributed to fhem. Be- sides, the ladies are siiowing these women how to repair clothes, foot stockings, and do various things, which I had never thought of, and I can make my charity-work go twice as far by knowing diese methods." Presently Helen and Mrs. Winton came, and the talk soon turned, as I meant it should, on domestic economy. Mrs. Win- ton has lived much abroad, and has thus had an opportunity of observing the home life of many peoples. She talks fluently if she perceives that her hearers are being interested and benefited. I presently led her to my subject. She said : " We Americans are an extravagant people : our land is so wide for its popula- tion, and brings forth, or can bring forth, so much more than its inhabitants consume, that we know nothing of the saving and careful economy of people of the Old World's thronged States. Lavish abundance of common things surrounded our ancestors, and they used it lavishly : we inherited the prodigal habit : but now our cities and some of our districts have a crovvded popula- tion, and want is the result of waste. With us a poor laborer's family will spend more and waste more than a family in middle station in Italy, Germany or France ; our middle classes .spend and waste what would appall a Frenchman of fortune; in fact, we seem to lack the very means and methods of saving, which are open to all in the Old World ; we despise saving; we call careful economy pcnuriousness; a woman who looks well to the ways of her household here is styled ' .stingy : ' abroad she is a good hou.sckccpcr doing her legitimate duty. Take our way of making coffee: a large quantity of ground coffee is mixed up with an egg or half an egg, as the case may be, and this i.s emptied into a coffee-pot of boiling water, and very po.ssibly it )i allowed to go on boiling, pouring .steam out of the spout. Tlic size of the pot has very little reference to the number of the fawily; after breakfast from a pint to three pints of toffco ECONOMY IN THE HOME. 75 remain over ; it may be thrown out, or it may be boiled ovei next morning. Abroad, the French pot rules the day: it is a pot made with two stories of about equal size. The lower one must hold as many cups as the family are likely to use. The upper story has two fine filters. The ground coffee, about half as much as weeded for the other style of making, is put in the upper and coarser filter, and slowly over it is poured water sufficient to nearly fill the lower pot, when it shall have worked its way through the second fine filter. No Q'gg, no mi.ving of any kind is used. The .spout and the top have air-tight caps; the coffee is thus hermetically sealed up, and is set back on the .stuve where it shall keep scalding hot, but in nowise boil. In ten minutes the coffee is all in the lower pot, with every par- ticle of .strength from the grounds carried with it, and all its aroma held in itself, and not diffused through the house. Not a particle of grounds reaches the lower pot : you take the cap from the spout, and a clear bright stream of coffee goes into your cup. Boil those grounds afterwards, and there is no color or .strength to be found in them. All the coffee is used each day: there is none to throw away, and French pots do not take kindly to the iniquity of coffee boiled over." "But," said Helen, " suppose an unexpected guest is at table." "Your Frenchman meets the difficulty by letting some mem- ber of the flimily quietly go without, or what is better, filling up the grown people's cups, and then pouring a little mon boiling water in the pot. and giving the juveniles weaker drink; or he makes his original pot of coffee proportionately .stronger, and pours a little boiling water into each cup; he will manage some way, rather than have coffee to throw out. The foreign house- wife docs not tiiink it mean to count heads, and then count her potatoes and eggs. She knows whether her family takes one or two apiece of each, and -ho. cnoV% accordingly; she is wise to teavc a oropcr margin of one or two in case of somebody's extr« \m ?d THE COMPLETE HOME. appetite. She does not feel embarrassed, if her son calls for a third egg, calmly to remark that there are no more cooked; and she knows that with his proper quota of eggs and other food, he can complete his meal on bread and butter : she would fepl much more embarrassed at having food to throw away." "And then," said Miriam, " suppose some one's appetite fails, or does not increase to that ' margin of one or two ' ? " " Suppose that one egg is left, or one potato. Here, Bridget, or the housewife herself, says, ' one is not worth keeping,' and throws them into the swill-tub. The French housewife is not tempted by that unhap »y institution always yawning at hand. On the contrary, suppose the egg is soft-boiled. She drops it into a tin-cup, and makes it hard-boiled at once. C'ne hard- boiled cg'g chopped fine is what she needs in composin.r a salad, and the French housekeeper is wise in behalf of health, of good taste, and of the beauty and variety of her table, to have salads innumerable— as many kinds of salads as Bottom had of wigs. There is the egg— the salad shall grace the tea-table. Or, there iij the one potato. Your French housewife knows the value of soup ; she does not make a huge soup, and expect her family to dine upon it ; she does not have her soup always of kind- she varies the kind ; and she has a small dish oi i,o jp as a prelude to her dinner: here she serves health and variety. The potato nicely ^ut in wedges shall be one of the ingredients of her soup. The beginning of her soup i- jrcnerally of bones. She has a stone jai. and the bones are usually trimmed closely out of the uncooked meat, .sprinkltd with salt and pepper, and put in this jar, over which a cloth is tied, and it is kept in a very :ool place. Almost every day, with a few bones and a variety as to other ingredients, .she will concoct a wonderful .soup— a white soup, a brown soup, a clear soup, a vegetable soup— and the spoonful of beans or peas, the few slices of tomato, the remnant of the rice or the macuroni, shall not be ignominiously cast out, ECONOMY IN THE HOME. i < but the soup shall be as is most convenient to the stock on hand, and all these fragments, neatly kept, are to go therein. The French are not remarkably religious, but they do follow the? monition : ' gather up the fragments that nothing be lost.' In one of our families, suppose that we have a cup of milk left from breakfast ; in our closet is a slice or two of sponge or cup- cake, a small saucer of jelly or preserve. In the American household, the milk is frequently thrown out, or one of the children is bidden to ' drink it up.' Biddy adds the preserve or jelly to her own breakfast, ' so she can have the saucer to wash.' The cake is given the children as an interlude to meals, to .spoil their appetites. Lo, the foreign housewife ! The cup of milk with ah c^g, a little flavoring and a trifle of thickening turns to custard; the cake is cut in thin pieces, spread with the conserve, and laid in a white pudding-dish ; the cu-.ard is poured over itj it goes for ten minutes into the oven ; the white of another egg' is, with a little sugar, converted into a ma-ingm, and spread on top; now the yolk of the second egg is beaten with a little cream or milk, and sugar and spice, into a sauce, or instead of the cream, a little home-made wine, or the juice left from some canned fruit is used : and here is a sauce for the dessert. We eat it. Delicious ! What dainty extravagant things these foreign people use ! Instead, we Americans would have thrown away the chief part of this dish, and would have provided for des.sert a huge pie, more costly, and not half so wholesome." " You mentioned being freed from the yawning of the refuse- pail," I said. " How is that ? " " There is very little to put in it. The foreign economist has nearly all her vegetables scnxpcd, and not peeled— the thick parings taking away a fourth of the food ; she remembers, perhaps, that the mo,st nourishing and richest part of the food lies clo.se to the skin, or she has simply been taught that she cannot afford to pare it. An old potato, a yam, a carrot, even a iii j il! \ t[ If I i ':!? 78 r//£ COMPLETE HOME. turnip and a summer squash, can be scraped, if Biddy thinks so and will take the trouble. Often, also, vegetables are cooked in their kins, and then the skin is pulled off with a knife and fork before serving: this saves the waste of the phosphates and starch m the boiling water. If peeling must be done, the knife IS sharp and the peel is very thin. The housewife's eyes are overall her household; the cook cannot throw out and waste undiscovered. Madame has studied her subject: she knows how long the vegetables, the meat, and the condiments should last, and they are made to reach that requirement. A very small vessel will hold the waste, and if in the countiy it is at once turned to further use. The foreigner cultivates the unn'holesome pig far less than we do : he prefers chickens The housewife, when she has fowls, has the parings and scraps put on th. fire in some vessel kept for the purpose; she stirs in a handful of meal, and a little pepper, and serves her fowls a hot breakfast, to be repaid in more and better eggs, and less cost in feeding. " In foreign countries the shops expect to sell in littles • a penny's worth of this, and two-pence worth of that. Exactly what is needed for use is bought, and there is nothing to be tvastcd. So many people live in ' flats ' or in lodgings, and have httle or no cellar and closet-room, that they must buy as they use; and the shopman does not despise selling in littles: half Ais sales arc made in that way. " In the matter of fuel, we Americans are terribly wasteful Wood and coal have been dangerously cheap to us I fed heart-sick v^•hen I travel and see grand trees sacrificed for waste m fuel, and mighty trunks and branches rotting on the ground Along some of our telegraph lines, you will see lying below each pole one or two other poles, moulding and rotting on the ground, waiting for the possible ruin of the standinrr nn«. .,.a often that post is cedar, and will continue to stand" until the ECONOMY IN THE I/OME. 79 wa:tin[r poles on the ground have rotted into usclcssness. They call this forethought. It is a fool's waste. A shed Here and thuiv along the line, with a pole or two laid on trestles, and so kept sound and fit for use, would be thrift. I have travelled in Southern Jersey, along swamps and barrens which would have be-n an Italian's fortune in fuel. In Jersey it rots on the ground, or is burned over 'to get it out of the way;' and, maybe, in the burning the woods catch fire, and a thousand dollars worth of good timber is sacrificed. In Italy every particle of vegetation that will burn is used for fuel. Trunks and large limbs go for cord-wood; all the small branches are trimmed up, and sold by the load by themselves ; the twigs and slender bits arc gathe-ed by children, .sorted into bundles for kindling or for making a light blaze, are tied up with a vine or withe, and arc considered worlh saving and selling, when these little fascine go to you from the shop at two or three for a cent. The big dead weeds, the mullen and thistle-stalks, the brambles, are cut down, raked together, packed solidly on a cart and carried into the city, and sold to the bakers for heating their ovens. The stumps of old olive trees, the roots of dead olives and vines, the prunings of the vine and olive roots are gathered up, reduced in a mill to a kind of coarse sawdust, pressed into flat cakes to weigh half a pound each, called /nines or smokers, and arc sold two or three for a cent, to keep a fire which you wish to leave very low without having it go out. From the pine woods on the hills the cones arc gathered ; their resinous wealth does not rot on the ground as here ; but they come by wagon-loads as kindling, and sell five for a cent, or so much the bushel or hun- dred, as you choose to buy them— great cones, four or five inches in circumference, from the dark, poetic heights of Valombrosa. Children and aged people, who here would be paupers or qu.irrrUing on door-steps, in Italy pick up a spare but honest living gathering /?jr.^ since their eariiest times to save every particle that could be turned to any use, to economize with the strictest methods. Now famines have fled before the face of civilization governments have grown less oppressive, plenty smiles where' want was known, and the good habits learned in ages of penury will make these nations rich and strong. America must learn this les.son of economy, for the noblest land cannot endure the drain of waste. If people could only be taught that economy is a thing of littles and of individuals, and of every day, and not a thing of masses and of spasmodic efforts, then a true idea would ' begin to tell upon the habits of our domestic life, and its effects would be seen in general and national prosperity, for the thrift and thriving of the individual is the thrift and thriving of the nation." "I should think, at this rate," said Helen, "that the foreign housewife's existence would be a perfect slavery: she must be forever on tlie watch, sacrificing her time and strength for small, poor savings." "In this, as in all our lives," said Mrs. Winton, "order is everything: system is the grand time and strength saver. The housewife inculcates upon children and servants the habit of saving; she notes every deficiency; she lia.s her rules, and hei ECONOMY IX TJIE HOME. gj order of using and saving. When she goes through her hou-e-- hold, ,f hers happens to be the duty of superintendence rather than of execution, she notes all that is on hand, and order, it to Its proper uses; she descries and checks every waste. It takes no more time nor strength to attend to this thoroughly than to go negligently over the house, chafing at wastes and deficiencies ahicn she has neither energy nor wisdom to correct " "Many things that might be kept to be useful," said Miriam "spoil, mould, or grow stale in a temperature a little too warm' what ,s a good method of preserving .uch things, especially if savmg everywhere, one must save also oh the ice bill, and buy very little ice, or even none?" "Our foreign economist," said Mrs. Winton, "knows the value of three things: charcoal, evaporation, and a piece of muslia A bit of thin muslin tied over pots and jars, instead of putting on them a close cover, will keep out flies and dust, and will admit air to aid in preserving things. For mould, every little fragment of it should be quickly removed, and jars or cans where it has been should be scalded and scoured, for movdd is a vegetable growth, every particle producing spores, whereby, as by seeds, it reproduces itself Charcoal kept near meats or ^fher food absorbs into itself the germs of decay, and aids ii» pre .■ - . mg what IS placed upon or beside it. Evaporation aids like ice m lowering the temperature. That stone jar for the bones for instance, is to be kept cool. Tie a bit of muslin over it pin a towel or thick cloth around it, and keep that wet-the evapora- tion will reduce the temperature: so by a wet cloth you can k-eep j-our butter jar in order, or a stone pot wherein you ar. keeping a piece of cooked meat." "All this is very nice to know." said Helen, "and is also reasonable; but to put it in practice seems penurious,, a fretting about trifles, a saving rather beneath people " "That is because we do not look at it in a right light," said 82 THE COMrLLTE HOME. \.' ? } 1 Mrs. Winton. "Christ, the Lord of all, who could command food for thousands at a word, did not think it beneath him to set his apostles to gathering up scraps of fish and bread, which he had produced at so little apparent effort and cost. He showed his poiver in providing, his liberality in bestowino-, his fmrf Illness in saving. ' Did he not this altogether for our sakes?' — to give us a lesson of that economy without which the human race cannot be maintained? All that is — the bread on your table, the meat, the eg:j, whatever we use — is the ultimate pro- duct of Christ's creating skill, and the result to us of his benev- olence. What divine chemistiy in the fruit matured for our tables! Economy is a high Christian duty, that nothing be lost." Housekeepers in the country are able to avoid waste in keep- ing things far better than city housekeepers can do. There is usually the spring-house with its running water ; and with the freer air and the shade trees, closets and store-rooms can be kept cool and .sweet. I was talking with Cousin Ann about this: she says that many houscicoepers do not realize the need of keeping the butter and milk in a place where there is no smell • of cooked meats, or of vegetables or pickles. Some people will set a plate of pickles down by a pan of milk, or a dish of ham or mashed turnip warm from the table close by their fresh butter, and then wonder zvliy their milk and butter taint so fast ! Other people do not give air enough to places where they are keepinf^ things, and they lot in too much light, and are not careful to keep out flies. Cousin Ann has mosquito-netting nailed over the lower halves of her paptry and store-room windows, and she had the boys make latticed shutters for the windows, which shutters she kcep-s bowed all day: thus she has no flies in these places, and plenty of air. She now has wire covers to put over meat and vegetables set by from the table ; but before she could .-afford these covers she put such things in deep basins of cheap Eco.vosrr in the home. red earthenware, and carefully tied pieces of nettmg over the op. She remarked .o n,e .he Cher day that some people m .hen,selves rnore dan,a,e with ,he,V ice-chests than goi„!wW ou .ce „.ou,d do .he., for .hey crowded all .a„„e' of .hi^^^ .n o ftem, and wore no. careful ,o cleanse .hem .horoughly o, ah b..s of food .ha. nngh. be sca..cred fi-om the dishef K people who canno. b„y a refHgera.or a nice ice-bo. can be .h„, made, .ake a common s.ore-box as large as you want your ice- ches.; ge. another box abou. nvo inches larger each Z- =pnnl< e a layer of sawdust in .he larger box ; bore three sm^l' auser-holes ,n the bottom of the smaller box, and set it i " other, upon the sawdust ; pack the space between the boxes Ji, awdust to w.thin two inches of the top, drive small stL! board over the top of the sawdust to prevent its scattering ,t bore ,„ th,s outer box three small auger-holes low down o°n i ,' he s,de and one in each end. Take a lid that will fit thetn box „„,1 stout cloth on it rather loosely, so that it can be " n v,,h sawdn.st before the last end is tacked down- p„ , handle, made of a strap of leather, in the centre; now 'if'l ar has rats in it, set into the ground four bits of old stov P.P= as pegs for the chest to rest upon, and if this is Zx I think if any one could give instructions in domestic eeonomy ,t would be Cousin Ann: not a thing is wa t" al gel: iror";::- 'f"/°' '"-"■ ^^-^ --^ -^ »rease goes for making hard and soft soap: a leach of wood ashes is always in use; old bones do not lie arould u" ■gl. .y htter, but there is a "bone heap." which is burned ci; start" ■:::: r'T "^ ^'^-^"^ garden: Cousin aZ Btarts, m house-boxes, lettuce, radi.,hes. onions anri cucumber,- 'I'll ^ n^ll 84 jy/E COMPLETE HOME. sho has the earliest vegetables that are raised around here, and she says the truest economy in saving health, escaping bills for medicine, and even in saving in provisions, is attained by having plenty of fresh early vegetables on the table three times a day. Cousin Ann is well-to-do, but she says " prosperity came by economy, and she will not deride the bridge which carried her safjly over perilous places:" she says economize in little things, and creat economics will take care of themselves. Cousin Ann always has in each room where there is a fire a box of paper- lighters to save matches; her bread-board and pan have no dough left clinging to them ; there is no scattering around her flour-barrel, and all the scrapings of pots and plates go to the chicks. " These are such trifles. Cousin Ann." "Well, your life is made up of seconds," -^plies Cousin Ann in a parable. " Very valuable trifles, after all ; have you no more of the kind, Cousin Ann?" " Perhaps I have not mentioned to you tivo bottles in my china- closet which I value very highly. One is a large-necked bottle of plaster of Paris. It costs me ten cents to fill it, and ten dol- lars would be a very small estimate of what that amount saves me. If the walls, especially the hard-finished ones, get scratched or nicked in ugly little holes, I mix a little plaster of Paris with water and cover the injury: all is then as good as new; for doing this work I keep by the bottle a thin, Landless knife-blade. If any crockery is broken, I mix some of this plaster with a little strong glue or with some white of egg, fasten the broken parts together, hold or tie them in place for a few minutes, then they are dry and I scrape off the plaster which has exuded from the crack, and the dish is firmly mended. China, glass and earthenware can be used in this way. If the dishes do not look well enoug'i to come to the table, they will yet do to set away ECONOMY IN THE HOME th.ngs in the store-closet, or for keeping jelly, n^armalade. o. preserves. For mending such things I keep an especial glue- brush; one must work quickly as the plaster dries so quickly thekmfe and brush usedjn it are fit for nothing else; and I m.x the plaster as I need it in a clam-shell, always keeping two or three clam or muscle-shells besides the bottle: the bottle must be kept corked. Speaking of clam and muscle-shells: they are ten times as good as knives or spoons to scrape out pans or pots: some folks spoil table-ware, and waste time when usmg a shell would be greatly better in all regards. When my lamp-tops come loose I don't send them to town : I mend then. w.th plaster of Paris. The other bottle I mentioned is for A^nmoma: I get that at twenty-five cents a quart at a wholesale house m the city. Nothing is like it for cleaning looking-glasses windows, silver or paint, for washing lace or embroidery 'for' cleamng black silk or cloth, for washing your best glass for spnnkhng in -soap-suds over your house-plants once a w'eek. Keep the bottle corked; mix a little ammonia in warm water as you need to use it. making the water stronger of ammonia for glass and s.lver. weaker for flowers or paint or clothes. We a.ways clean our combs and brushes well with it about once - month: it keeps them white and stifif; and mixing a little am- mon.a with a teaspoonful of bay-rum and half a pint of warn, water we use it for cleaning our heads: it frees the head from dandruf and the hair from dust, and helps the growth. I don't know of anything nicer in a bath, when one is very warm has been perspiring freely, or engaged in hard, dirty work ; add a httle ammonia to the bath-water, and you feel clean, fresh and rested; mdeed the ammonia pays for itself a hundred times over. In house-cleaning times it saves soap, brushes and paint and t,me in washing wood-work or windows; it is a grand thing for carpets: if they look faded and soiled, sween them n-ell then after the dust has settled wipe them with a dry flannel' If llll I ! I i i|i' '(ill 11 ml 1 1 y' «6 7VZS COMPLETE HOME. Jthen put some ammonia, say a dessertspoonful, in two quarts of warm water: wring out a clean flannel cloth in it and wipe the carpet all over, wringing the cloth out in the ammonia wat'-r several times. I believe it destroys moths, worms, and carpet- bugs, and sets the color, besides taking off" all grease and stains. So, Sophronia, /wouldn't keep house without my plaster bottle and my ammonia bottle." "Well, Cousin Ann," I replied, "I shall give my nieces each two of these famous bottles, with their virtues and uses inscribed on the outside." "Do," said Cousin Ann: "it will be better to them in the long run than a silk dress." " Yes," I replied, " the dress would soon be spoiled, and might encourage extravagance or love of display, but this gift will help them to attain that virtue of life-long benefit, Economy in the Home." CHAPTER IV. CHILDREN IN THE FAMILY. r-HAT AUNT SOPHRONIA HAS TO SAV OF THEIR RIGHTS AND . LIABILITIES. HAVE always had the deepest interest in children and a strong affection for f ,. They are the very centre of the Home; in fact, a Home without children hardly seems to me a Home at all; and yet, these, who arc designed to be the Home's choicest blessing, often become its heaviest sorrow. I think people have more varieties in their fash.oHs of dealing with or bringing up children, than in any- thmg else; and I suppose there .should be differences in methods, inasmuch as there are so great natural differences in children. But, after all, there seem to be certain fundamental rules, which apply to the right^training of all children: these rules I find entirely ignored by very many parents. Children, as human beings, must come into the world witij certain inalienable rights. A great many parents seem to regard their children as mere chattels, without any rights what- ever. Children, as sharing our fallen nature, need certain restraints. Many parents seem to forget this, and let them come up in entire ignorance or defiance of that excellent thing -law. Children arc the noblest of our possessions. They are the only immortal part of our possessions. They deserve, there- fore, in virtue of their Intrinsic value, our most vigilant care and guidance. But many parents will bestow more trainintr on .-» voung colt or heifer than on their child; more care on a^sewiny (87) 88 THE COMPLETE HOME. macliinc than on son or clauglitcr ; more time on a piano than on their own offspring ; more affection on some pet cat, bird or poodle than they cxkibit for a child. They will try harder to understand the eccentricities of a cooking-stove, than to under- stand the human mind, which God has committed to their keeping. My brethren, these things ought not so to be. Thoughts on the rights, needs and duties of children in the home, have pressed upon me more forcibly than ever since there are children in Helen's and Miriam's homes. I find that people's grandest mistakes and most unutterable failures arc connected with the training of their children. Thus it has been in all time, and even in the families of holy people. Isaac seems to have had his hands more than full with son Esau ; and Jacob found plenty of trouble among his thirteen. David's sons turned out sadly, some of them. It is no ^vonde^ that Ishmael went out of the wrv- of Abraham so quickly, when Abraham turned him adrift so early ; and while Lot's children seem to have been a desperate set, Mrs. Lot was most likely to blame for tliat, especially with Lot's going to live in a wicked place like Sodom just for gain, which no father of a family •ihould have done. It appears to me that when there is failure, tve can usually go back and put our finger on some error and say: " Here is where the wrong began." But then it is always easier to .see the beginning from the end, than the end from the beginning. We know well enough roads that we have travelled over ! Then when the evil is done, it is often too late to mend it I Tow circumspectly then we should go over unknown ground, where a false step may be fatal ! I remember Mrs. Winton and I we :t to .see Helen when little Tom was a fortnight old. Helen seemed to have some .sense o^ her responsibility, and .she said: "What a charge I shall ha. u when it is time to begin to train and educate this child ! " Mrs. Winton looked up: " Helen, you should have begun tc CHILDREN IN THE FAMIL Y. gf, train and to educate a fortnight ago. Education should bcc^in with the first hour of a babe's hfe, and it should from that hour have a fixed end." " I don't understand you," said Helen. "The end of our education should be to develop the child in eveiy direction, into the very best and highest which it is capable of attaining. VVe must always remember that the child w.ll hve forever in another world than this; that in this world it will be a member of a social system, and will have duties to its race. It .s also an individual, with its private and particular nature and emotions, which are to be regarded in its up-bringing So Helen, begin at once to train your babe: as an individual wth regard to its riglits ; and as a member of society with regard to its duties." "But, Mrs. Winton, ^vhat can one teach so young a child ?" "Pafence is the child's earliest lesson. It can be taught to watt. Don't give it what it is crying for while it cries. Calm it tenderly first, and then promptly give the food or the toy • as it grows older, whatever it is proper for it to have: it soon'asso- nates receiving with quiet and pleasant asking. So you can teach the child, as a member of society, to cry softly, and not disturb the house with wild shrieks. You can calm and soothe a very young child to mild crying, and get it habituated not to roar and bellow." "I always noticed, Mrs. Winton," I said, "that your children cned quietly, and did not fill the neighborhood with shrieks " "I always pitied them when they were hurt, not in the ratio of the noise they made, as many do. but in the ratio of their gentleness about their trouble. Children love sympathy to be petted and pitied-if shrieking like Comanches is the pnce of notice, of course they will shriek. I u.sed to .say ' softly, .softly and then I shall feel .so sorry for you. Ah ! wl.t a good child to be so patient ! ' They learned a pride in patience and endur- ■I f i !» 80 THE COMPLETE HOME. ance. I have seen mothers feeding a child with two spoons, nurse and mother feeding together, to keep the child from screaming as soon as its mouth was empty. The thing is a fact, and ruined the child's temper and digestion. A child should be taught to wait patiently while its food is preparing, and while itself is being made ready to eat it. Naturally, the little "one is the centre of its own universe, and believes the world was made when it was, and for it. We must early teach the child, in patience, gentleness and generosity, to know that it has compeers whose rights are as settled as its own." Mrs. Burr also called upon Helen with me while Tom was a young infant. Helen .said to her : " Mrs. Burr, your family is considered a!»model : give me some of your rules for training little children." • " I esteem quid very highly," said Mrs. Burr, "both in behalf of the child's health and its good manners. A little child is a delicate organization, and its nerves are delicately strung ; but nurses frequently jounce, toss and tumble it, tickle it, jump and scream at it, and take its nervous contortions or forced laughter for expressions of pleasure. Do we sec cats or birds servin" their young in this way? No, they supply their needs, keep them warm and quiet, and let them develop their faculties natur- ally. Grown people could not endure the torments through which they put a young child, calling it 'amusing it.' I have known children given spa§ms, or fi.xed in nervous diseases, by this folly. Nurses are especially given to this error. They are often of a hoydenish, noisy class, and they u.se these manners to a child. If physically the child escapes harm, its manners are injured; it is rampant, boorish, disturbing every one with its uproar, which is called liveliness and healthfulness by the parent, yet is really a bad habit. Children disturb their elders more by their noise than in any other one way, yet parents delib- erately train up their children in a noisiness, which they cannot if. CHILDREN IN THE FAMIL Y. 91 endure, and as a next step drive them out into the street in order to be rid of their uproar." '• But, Mrs. Burr, I have supposed that noise was natural to children, and that only feeble children were very still." " The noise of children," said Mrs. Burr, " has its proper limitations of time, place and kind. Ugly noises they should be trained to eschew; the happy noise of their plays, shouts and laughter are natural and healthful, but even they must not be brought among the aged, the sick, nervous, or where a young child is sleeping. Children can be taught to keep their bolster, ousness for their own play-room, the field or the garden ; to .speak in gentle tones, to choose quiet plays when they play around their elders. It is easy, Helen, to begin right in these matters, and it insures a happy home ; it is hard to begin later, when two or three children have become fixed in unplea.sant ways ; it is dangerous to family peace and juvenile manners not to begin at all. And let me say a word on the subject of nurses. Our chil- dren are often permanently injured mentally or physically by their nurse. The nurse may have a loving disposition, and may grow to have a fondness for her charge, but it is idle to expect from her a warm affection for every child whom she is hired to attend. Your safeguard then is in good principles; but how many of those who aspire to the ve'ry responsible office of child's maid, are trained in good principles? it frequently happens that the child of well-to-do parents, able to hire a nurse, gets poorer care, and has less chance of its life, than the child of poor parents. The fearful summer mortality among poor children can be accounted for in close, hot rooms, impure air, dirty clothes, bad food, and often general neglect. The richer child has good food, air. room, clothes, cleanliness, but he has a nurse-maid, whose hidden carelessness often forfeits the life of her charge. How often have I seen a delicate babe sent out by its mother fog an airing in its carriage ! The nurse, chatting with hel ill! §2 THE COMPLETE HOME. friends, or hastening to overtake a companion, dashes the little buggy over curbs and crossings. I have even seen a child flung bodily out of its carriage by such a jolt. In our parks I have seen maids rushing the little buggies down slopes, over drains, around curves, in a manner to endanger the spines and brains of infants. Or the nurse sits down on a door or a church step fof a long talk : the babe, exposed to heat and flies, often the sun blazing on its undefended face, begins to wail. Hundreds of times have I seen the nurse shake or slap it for its cries. After an hour or two of such a ' ride for health,' the child goes home fevered, weak — no appetite. Dozens of cases of illness or of deaths, which parents and doctors ascribe to 'summer heats,' or the 'diseases incident to summer,' are tjie result of exposures and excitements which grown people could not endure. The lovely babe of a friend of mine died after agonizing illness — the victim of a nurse who was very fond of it. After a hot day she sat with the child on a porch during a thunderstorm, giving the babe no protection for its bare neck and arms, until it was chilled through. Many nurses privately administer opiates to their charges. Almost all nurses that I ever knew do not hesitate to frighten children by noises or tales ; or, to keep them from being ven- tuicsome, teach them fears of almost every place and thing. The mother, who wants a brave son, begins by handing him over to a nurse, who, for the first three years of his life, labors to make him a coward." "You alarm me, Mrs. Burr," said Helen; "but what is to be done? — ought not nurses to be hired?" "I think," said our friend, "that mothers often injure them- selves and their babes by endeavoring to assume the whole care of the child. The mother begins the charge in a weak state of health; she is burdened with family cares, possibly with sick- ness in the house, with broken rest at nights ; she is feeble and nervous, and this nervousness reacts upon the child, while often CHILDREN IN THE FAMILY. no a mother's health is shattered and she dies prematurely, leaving her babes to strangers, when by sharing the care of them her life might have been prolonged. So, and in an even greater degree, the figures and health and tempers of unfortunate little eldest daughters are sacrificed to being made reliable child's maids (or their juniors. There is hardly a being on earth whom I jiity more than such a little eldest girl, prematurely old and care- worn, never knowing what a jolly childhood is, always with the children on her mind or in her arms. Better by far to dress this little girl in plain calico, and send her to church in a white sun-bonnet, while the money for fine dress pays a maid to carry and attend the little ones, than to have the poor creature in her own childhood burdened with a mother's cares, and compelled by her own grievances and privations to consider children an unmitigated nuisance. A lovely lady once said to me, 'I feel often horrified at the little love I have for my brothers Ind sis- ters-they are less to me than strangers; but it was my mother's error. Those children were the curse of my early life. I had no rights and no privileges, no. toys which the little ones were not allowed to destroy. I could not have company, because " I had enough brothers and sisters," or "company disturbed the baby." I could not visit, because the children missed me, or should have been asked to go with me. If I went in the street I dragged a carriage or led or lugged a child. I spent the even- ings until my own bed-time shivering in a cold room, waiting for some child who chose to be afraid to go to sleep. I never went anywhere with my mother, because when she was out I • must be at home. I saved the lives of the little things a few times by my courage and presence of mind, and I almost regretted it, because the more reliable I was the more I was laden with a woman's duties. I remember when once or twice death came to our crowded circle, my first irresistible thought was— now I would get a little more time to rest and read. Even fSlBP wn ^f • ■1 ' II . i^^ ^^H s 1 Wmm i I tei lU i.im p "l^^^^^^l i ^-v 'I l_.^ ym^^^^^^H 94 THE COMPLETE HOME. my school and lessons were sacrificed to these children. All this was pecuniarily unnecessary, but my parents felt that nurses were unreliable, and I, alas, was trusty ! I often wished I had been born without a conscience, so that my parents would have been afraid to trust me, but I was so constituted that I could sacrifice life rather than duty. The memory of my youth is a nightmare. A pestilence broke up our family within a week. I sorrowed for my dead, but I was free from slavery. Now my remaining brothers and sisters are to me chiefly associated with the long weariness, sadness, sacrifice, and rebuffs of my early life. When I was twenty-four my own first child was laid in my arms, and there surged over me that feeling of burden and dis- tress, that horror of great darkness, thrtt closed my childhood in; but I soon found that a woman's joyous love, her knowledn-e, her skill, her strength for responsibility, her command of the situation, for her own babe, is a very different thing from the experience of a child so recklessly overburdened as I was.'" "Dear Mrs. Burr," cried Helen, "if I ever have a little daughter, she shall have the advantage of that little story. But tell me what to do. I cannot, it seems, have a nurse, nor do without one: where is the middle course here?" " If you can afford, by any .sacrifices of luxuries or fineries even, to keep a nurse-maid, Helen, do so. But first be sure about the girl you are getting : know something of her family, her history; see to it that she is healthful, modest, cleanly, kind. You cannot be too scrupulously particular about these things. Then consider that you get her, not to take your place to the babe, but to relieve you in lesser cares, so that you can with better strength fulfil the rest. A iiiothcr should always bathe, dress, undres,',, and feed her own child: no one else will exercise such tender, wise care as she in these immensely important particulars. If your child, unhappily, must be fed from its birth, see yourself to the preparing of its food, and the CHILDREN IN THE FAMIL Y. 95 washing, keeping and cleansing of the vessels in which that food is prepared and administered. If the nurse puts the child to sleep in the day time, let her do it in a room where you arc sitting; but I should say, always put your own child to sleep, and let the nurse take any work that might at that time occupy you. At night put the child to bed yourself: then you will be sure that it i^ not frightened nor made uncomfortable. If pQs- sible, accustom the child to going to sleep itself when laid on the bed, and teach it to sleep without a light: a light burns up the oxygen of the room, depriving the child of good air, and its constant use makes the child timid in the dark. However, some children cannot be taught these things: nervous fear is con- stitutional. Remember, then, what Horace says: 'You can- not drive out nature with a fork.' Keep away the causes of nervous fear, and by degrees the child will outgrow it. That splendid child, Grace Winton, was from her birth constitu- tionally fearful of lightning; frantic terror took possession of her at the slightest flash. No matter where she was, nor ho^v occupied, if an electric storm appeared, Mrs. Winton repaired to Grace, and she never allowed her to go far from her, or for a long time. Grace was ashamed of her uncontrollable fear ; friends told Mrs. Winton that she spoiled the child in this point She replied: ' No; I shall solace her unreasoning age, and trust to developed reason to control her.' She explained rarly to Grace the reason, uses and theories of storms ; she showed utter fear- lessness herself; and from the time she was eight, Grace lost her terrors, and is now as brave as her mother in all particulars. But to return to the nurse. She can hold, carry, exercise with the child, but do not let her go off alone on long perambulations with it. If she goes beyond your sidewalk or garden go with her; if you cannot go, keep her under your eye and out of temptation. The only time I ever broke that rule, my youngest nearly died from getting the whooping cough in the midst of •' 1 1 ''%. 96 THE COMPLETE HOME. Ill his teething; the nurse was a trusty girl, too; she merely called on her sister, not knowing the cough was in her family ; but if I had been with her she would have made no calls. Nurses, in their calls, expose children to foul air, vermin or diseases ; and keep them warmly wrapped for hours in close rooms, and then go out in the cold with them. Often, in low parts of the city, have I seen babes crying in their buggies at doors where nurse- maids were inside gossiping, and once I- knew of a child stolen under such conditions." " But suppose, Mrs. Burr, I am too sick to feed or bathe the child, or to go out with it, or put it to bed? " " Get a friend to go out with it, with the nurse, or keep it at home ; and have the nurse feed, bathe and put it to bed where you are present to overlook the matter." " But in some families nurses take the whole care of children, and often in England they bring up the children entirely." " God sometimes mercifully confers on children, thus left by their mothers, a nurse more faithful than the mother. But I don't think wc should indulge neglect, expecting Him to make up for our delinquencies. One may have a mature, judicious nurse many years, and trust her more and more as she shows herself reliable : yet, ought a mother to desire to delegate those duties and services which her little child has a right to claim from her? In England long terms of service are more common than here. Here a nurse is changed once a year, or half a dozen times a year ; or as soon as her little charge can toddle she is dismissed. She loses the affection of habit, and does not expect to become identified with the fiimily interests. In England a nurse spends often her whole life in one family nursing two generations; the family feel that one who was devoted to their helpless infancy has more than a pounds-and- pence claim on them. In this respect the feeling of the colored nurses in the South, formerly, was like that of the English rather CHILDREN m THE FAMILY. g. ; imi, sne lell a good deal too much responsibility o hot „u«e-g,ri. However, the first one was a good „ue for I engaged her myself, unfortunately she soon ,eff Mrs. Burrs remarks about edueating children ' into noisines, ad .,m,d,ty struck n,e,a„d doubtless caused me more „a,ti .any o notice several little street incidents. I walked ou ^ d^ and saw our minister's wife at her garden gate talkin .„ a™ 'he^ K H '"" ^"''' "'° ™ '■" "'■' '™«»- She had in°h arms her babe, a year old. The former's horse put his bead over the gate: the child shrank back to his mothers neck Pretty horse! " said his mother, in her musical voice- and ^kmg the Hild's hand in her own she stroked the anima ' ,r KU , "" '- "'' '''' "''" 'y''" Grown suddenly bold the ch,l poked his finger at the horse's great dark eye, but t watchful mother seized his hand : "Softly! be kind to the h Poor horse. No, no ; don't touch his eye " he'^!'„lf"' ""' """'' "" '° ''•' *= »=-'•= -== as hard a, ■'Softly! gently; so, so; you must not whip the good horse- pat him SO, softly." . s "u nurse, The cWld learned now that there was to be neither fear nor ac:;:rhiT;^^^^ ^ "-^^^ -..hestro^ed the an.-.! face w,th h,s white dimpled hand. A square farther on I saw a . T\ " '^''^ '■" ^''' ''""'' ^"d as the cart-horse ^urned his head to look, the little one reached out laughlT Th horse's head was two or three feet from the child but the heard a b!o.k off! Ti.e child burst into a shriek of terror and was earned in-doors, having 'earned that n ,, y "i, '-^™^'^ ^"« a very common animal ■■'W I ' ": I I'M n 98 THE COMPLETE HOME. was an object of mad fear. Near my own home I saw a young woman with a two-years-old boy in her arms, as she stood talk- ing to some friends who were in a buggy. The child had a willow switch, with which he was striking about. The mother, a boisterous creature, shouted : " Whoa! get up! Hit the horsey I Hit him hard! That's right; crack him good! whoa!" The youngster bellowed as loudly as his progenitress, and hit right and left as well as he was able. He was getting his lesson: a lesson of noise, of cruelty to a domestic animal, of needless words, uproar and excited actions — he was in a fair way to become hard-hearted, and very uncomfortable to live with. When Miriam's little Dora was a few months old, Miriam invited Mrs. Burr and myself to tea. Very naturally, our talk turned on the training of children, and Mrs. Burr made some good remarks on the subject. She said: " Miriam, don't expect your child to be perfect. That is our first demand on our chil- dren : we expect them to be angelic beyond others, yet, when we come to look at ourselves, we shall see how very insufficient A foundation we have for such an expectation. Don't feel that all faults are equally heinous. Childhood has errors which we may reprove or correct very gently, or even ignore altogether, rather than to be always condemning, trusting that the whole moral training of the child will correct some faults of which individual notice has not been taken. Childhood has its cri:/rs v. )iich can- not be permitted without destroying the child'* chr.rict^r. I should say the three primary crimes are disobedience, falsehood, and selfishness. Of the first, nothing so insure.'^ the happiness of the child, and the comfort of the Home, as obedience; obedi- T^c includes respect for a// who are in authority; the respecting c'v ' .ia ed "~ .veil as parental authority; true obedience has none ?f L' ; ,.',.tant, 'I .shan't mind you; you ain't my mother,' style, Wiiici. <5ome parent- even think ver}.' amusing. If we begm early enough with a child, it will acquire the habit of obedience before >li CHILDREN 1.x THE l.;M,Ly. „„ ft kno„3 ,h3t ij .^ ,^^^„.^^ _^^^^j^.^^^ ^^^ .^ ^,^^ ^^^^ obed,c„, d,sp„s,„o„s, as the plant grows as you have trained i, Some parents eomraand and rccommand, and then permit the 1 '.".sh, without stopping to consider whether the child ha, un erstood the order. , have seen idiots who will tell ! h,ld a year old to put down or pick up something, and when the order ,s not obeyed, they begin to shake and slap, never quost,o„mg whether the new deni.en of this world app^hends the,r mslructions, or appreciates what it is to do. The child becomes terrified and nervous; that is set down as obstinacv and a w,ll that must be broken.' What did the Lord besto'w the D,vme Power of the will for, if not to be a stronghold to the hvman be,„g.> ,t must he guided in the way of righteousness have not.ed Mrs. Winton: she never allows her word to be d-sregarded. and never has a battle. I have seen her tell a young child to put down something, which the child, looking at her, st,ll clutched. There was no second order, he ^^1 a,d ,f the ch,Id d,d „.. understand the phrase 'put it down' he act expounded it; ,/f it *V, and concluded to hold on the ■oosmg of ,.s grasp secured the accomplishment of the parental emand, and taught it that instant action must follow a' order wh.ch ,t had thrown down, once told, if obedience did not follow he qu,etly clasped the little fingers over the object and secured the performanc. of the act; her children have grown in o ' assurance that the mother's order must be followed by ^ec" ion,wh,e no bitter antagonisms have been awakened. One Tari a".r"'* '■" '°"™"'™' '^ '""' '''= "=^- ^--* a.sserts a thmg concerning which she has not h.rself f„|l assurance, and then sh. never changes ; her words , 'like the laws of the Medes and Persians; and while law is thus inflexible! Hi 'i -1 100 r//E COMPLETE HOME. her children have their acknowledged rights, which are to them as impregnable as an Englishman's home. I notice, too, that while she does not stop to argue things with her children, she is always ready to explain, sometimes before, sometimes after, the performance of an order: thus her children's acts are estab' lished on reason, and sound judgment is developed in them, while they are not forever saying, 'Why? ' Obedience is the corner-stone in Home training. The child ■^^ ould not grow up feeling that obedience is due only to one parent: that authority resides only in one — that father must be minded, while mother can be twisted as they choose ; that mother rules them, while father is a figure-head, or an animated purse. They must not find one parent concealing their acts from the other, or one parent permitting what the other prohibits." I said : " While in our civil laws one kind of penalty meets one offence and another another, in domestic training there is too often only one kind of punishment for all misdoings: crimes or mere errors meet the same reward ; a lie or an accident receives equal reprobation. This is the sure way to destroy moral sense." "Accidents should never receive punishment," .said Mrs. Burr, /' but a child should be akvays required, as far as possible, to repair them : thus carelessness is corrected. True, the child's bungling repairing may all need to be done over again by the parent, but in giving its time and its labor, the child has learned carefulness, A nephew of mine was shamefully wasteful of his food ; his mother preached good manners, his father general human needs, and depicted poor people hungering for his wa.ste: he wasted still. When he was twelve years old, my brother reformed him thoroughly : ho made him rai.sc, one summer, a quarter of an acre of corn, and the same amount of potatoes. ]kn planted and hoed, weeded and pursued potato-bugs ; he thought it fun at first, work presently, purgatory soon after. His father had CHILDREN IN THE FAMIL Y. jqj hired the half acre, paid for th. seed and the ploughing; poor Ben learned what it costs to produce food He dug his potatoes, cut and husked his com, found a sale for both, repaid his fathers outlay, and pocketed a dollar and a half for his summer's work • but he pocketed a lesson worth thousands. He knew how to ra.se h.s dinner out of the soil, and he knew what labor food represents ; he is now the most scrupulously saving fellow I ever saw. "The children of a friend of mine were remarkable for the punty and propriety of their language. She procured this mceness by an odd method. Children readily pick up vulgar or bad words; whenever she heard such an one, she calmly looked mto U,e little mouth whence it came : • Dear, dear, what a dirty mouth! Such a word does not leave a clean mouth ! Come let us wash ,f The mouth was carefully washed with soap and water rmsed. wiped. ' Go, now, and be careful ; don't get your mouth dirty any more!' No matter how busy she was. the great busmess of keeping clean mouths was always heeded, and her children learned a positive disgust for all low language and a hearty respect for cleanness of speech. My cousin Ann's mother lud a custom akin to this. When her grandchil- dren dropped an e^-il word, she rubbed a little aloes on their tongue. A bad word was a bitter word to them, and they also, talked as they ought. The .same disease requires different remedies to suit the patient. I had my eldest at Cape May when he was three, and from a family of boys at our hotel he learned to swear. Imagine my consternation ! He picked up the.r speech as he did mine, knowing nothing of its meanirig rhe more I reproved and punished, the more firmly the evil language was fixed in his mind. I went home with him to escape bad company. I wept over the affair to my mother she said to me : ' The child knows no more harm in those words tl-an .n a nursery rhyme. All your measures arc fi.ving them "4M ii 1 lllfl . I,' M\v' 102 TJ/E COMPLETE HOME. in his memory; at home he hears nothing of the kind. Ignore his use of these words, and he will forget them in a fortnight' I took her advice, and in a week the objectionable words had faded from his memcy." Our minister's wife has remarkable success in training her children. I was talking with her one day on the subject, and ftfe happened to come upon the matter of truthfulness. She said : "Nothing is more beautiful than truth, and we must first teach it to our children by our own example, by showing and inculcating inflexible principles of honor. Many parents mak« their children liars by a severity which first makes them cowards, and by a doubting of their words, and by a readiness to accept any stranger's word against the child's statement. This is an error as great as that of being credulous, an easy dupe, and falling a prey to any misstatement the child may make. Parents should study the character of their children to see whether they are honest or no, and what are the causes of dishonesty. Very vivid imagination in young children causes them to state things as they appear to tlicin, which look like very false statements to grown people. We must consider how small the child is in comparison with his surroundings, how new the world is to him, and how little grounds he has for forming a judgment, before we call his misstatements lying. In early ages, knowing little of scientific fact, people attributed to witchcraft and the supernatural what are now the easily ex- plained operations of nature ; ignorance begot, superstition; igno- rance may make children appear false ; we should be careful to instruct them, and to let no error of statement pass, so that we may obtain a noble clearness and truthfuine.ss in them. A lying child is a mean and a dangerous child; and a parent's most vigilant and earnest efforts mu.st be given to ensuring absolute trutiifulncss. ' • -*\ CHILDREN IN THE FAMIL Y. 103 Our minister preached a sermon to the young on Truthful- NESS. He does not often quote the old philosophers : he prefers to instruct from the Scripture, as getting there the best that can be given; but I noted a quotation or two which he made from Plato on Truth. " Is there anything more akin to wisdom than truth ? Or can the same nature be a lover of truth and a lover of falsehood ? The true lover of learning then must from his earliest youth, as far as in him lies, desire all truth." '^God is perfectly simple and true, both in deed and wo. d; he changes not ; ho deceives not, either by dream or by waking vision,^ sign or word." I think Miriam's children should grow up to be blessings to their parents and to society, for she and Mark both train as they desire the child to develop, and to be when it is mature. One evening I was there, and Mark brought home for the child some little treat. Dora, seated on her mothers lap, prcceeded to help herself Mark said : " There is nothing more detestable, more cruel, more ruinou.« to so iety than self.shncss. Don't begin now. Miriam, by letting Dora think only of her own satisfaction ; loach her that nothing is truly blessed until it has been shared." " That," said Miriam. " is Mark's rule for Ddra, and I think it a very good one : always to offer to others a part of what she has. She seems naturally inclined to be selfish, but we want to teach her a habit of giving, and we always praise her when she divides with others. VVe go through the form of sharing with her on all occasions." "Some parents," said Mark, "themselves divide the child's possessions; but that is not teaching the child to give; it is depriving it of the luxury of giving. Children should be taught •spontaneity in giving. I have seen parents take forcibly th« child's property and give it to c.thc-r. ; that is merely to incul- catc the right of might, and to give a lesson in robbery; a rightly % Is f 104 THE COMPLETE HOME. constituted child would resent and question such a proceeding. If the child's giving to its mate must be final, so should th^^e parent's gift to the child be final ; and if it is to be given away, the child should be the free-giver. Yet children should be' taught not to give, trade, or take without honoring its parental guide by asking advice. The parent, as judge, can condemn some ill-used possession as forfeit, or can adjudge the child to make restitution in kind for damage done to its neighbor's property; here the parent bases his decree on principles of common equity, and here is a grand and not to be slighted opportunity for teaching justice between man and man, human property rights, and the majesty of law, as guardian over all its subjects, and with eye fixed on the common good." " Indeed, Mark," I said, " very few parents consider that boys should do justice and deal honorably by each other: I have seen over-reaching called ' smartness '—destruction 'playfulness.' A child loses his playfellow's toy and says he's sorry, but is not taught to give up his own property to replace the loss. And how frequently are children allowed to give and then take back I " "There," replied Mark, "is the root of much dishonesty among men: they began it when they were boys, their parents ignoring it, or abetting it, or .setting an example. Ingrain hon- esty in a lad, and you arc sure of an honest man. Girls and boys should be allowed independent property dealings with each other; their parents remarking, and advising and care- fully insisting on rigid honesty. Girls should not be taught that in virtue of their sex they may change their minds, break their promises, or deal fast and loose. Upright business prin- ciples are as good for girls as for boys, and they should learn them." During these years my niece Hester has several times returned home for short visits, and I have seen with satisfaction <:""-DKE.V :x THE FAMILY. ,„, Mrs. Winlon's prophec/cs concerning her proving true. Wlnle no less deeded she is less aggressive : she is just as fond of a^^^ nent as ever but proceeds wi.l, , by ,ues.,on, rather than c™ . tra .et,on; she says this is the "Sccratic method." What r ...Chod .t ,s, like it better than the one which she had f„ n il ...use , tough , „.i„ adnti. that this Socratie .ethoU is ra , ^ d,et,ng themselves 1 Hester, having graduated, was still pur- u,„g her favonte studies in New York, when she came to spend .few weeks w.h nte, her father being absent. He aeco.pa'ni d n Explcnng E.xpedition to South America. I don't appLia.e ■^f: ■^''"' '^ "«= "^ of '•■•■aping up knowledge if one ^ocs no nttend to make any u.,e of it , ,. seems to me've^ , k : , '7 '■^'"'""^ !'" "«>->■. -■- !•» own sake, and not for what i .11 procure: ,t ,s merely a more refi,K=d kind of miserlines^ It seems to me th.at we should pu, our knowledge, as ^H or money, to use., keep it in circulation. , th „k w|, „ „ dear Lord condenmed hiding tal.nts in the earth, he meant mo e l"mself. and no man dieth to himself We ought indeed to world, then m servmg our fellows we .serve our Lord One would not be quite useless in the world, if one even knew and ught ,„, „,^„„,^.,^^ ^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^ -y .0 ohn; he heap, up knowledge, and knows no one will gather ,t-,t w,M go into the grave with him. Well, Hester came to visit me nn,f T K-, i , . "^' ^"" ^ "'^■"„. say no half a dozen times, and then give up, THE COMPLETE HOME. and say "yes" as a reward of merit for teasing. When a parent acts in that way, how much respect is a child likely to have for the parent's judgment and truthfulness ? We should neither grant nor deny so hastily that we have not well considered a question. There is much which our children must be denied : therefore, when we can consent to their wishes, let us do it heartily and cheerfully. If we deny, let it be because we must, and then not go back on our principles by finally agreeing to what we think wrong. I remember once I was visiting Cousin Ann at the farm, and I was in the garden with Ann's sister-in- law, and this lady's little son Bob came up : "Mother! can I go fishing?" "Why, no, Bob; what do you want to fish for? you never catch anything, and you'll be sure and get cold." "Why, I like to fish, and all the boys are going, and I ncvef get cold; say, can't I go fishing?" "No, child, I say; I'm sure you have not weeded the cab. bages, and you've got your composition to write." " Hoh ! I wrote my composition last night: it's all done, and I finished the cabbages an hour ago— can't I go fishin"?" " Dear me, Bob, what a tease you are! no: it's too damp." " Damp! oh, dear: then it'll never be dry; it hasn't rained for a week, and the dew's all gone, and it is such nice weather— can't I go fishing? — Dick's going!" " Dick's going! Well, he'd stay home if his mother said so." " But she lets him go— can't I go fishing, mother?" "I W7v;-saw your like to tease; well, do go along." " But, mother, I want some dinner to take." " Oh, you'll be home by dinner-time." " No, indeed; why it wouldn't be two hours: I want a lunch." "Bless me. what a bother! Well, go find yourself a lunch." I went mtn the house just in time to hear Cousin Ann's Dick begin; " Mother! can't I go fishing? " CHILDREN IN THE FAMIL Y. jq^ Cousin Ann looked carefully at Dick, as if considering his heal h wants, and various capabilities in the fishing line Then she looked out of doors, as if sun.ming up the weather. Then she took a look into the wood-shed, to see if Dick's mornin. chopp.ng and cleaning up had been done. Then she said^ cheerfully: Yes, Dick, it is a splendid day for fishing. Go .et your old trowsers, and your big straw-hat. and I'll put you \. sC::.: '" ''" ^"^ ''-' P- of a fishing in your' iew, I Now I like that straightforward way of dealing with a child- know what you n.ean.and stick to it I found that was one of Hesters cardinal points in child-training. While Hester was with me a cousin of hers was called out of town, and left her httle g.rl in Hester's care. The child was used to her own way.^nd a perfect tease. One day she asked to go to Mrs, " No : not to-day," said Hester. ;'0h, yes; let me go; I want to go; why can't I go. say?" You were there yesterday." "Never mind that: let me go; 60 please let me go " Hester laid down her book and asked, quietly: "Anna, how many tmies do you mean to ask me to let you go? " ^^ ''^Why. I don't knew; do let me go; what did you ask tha't " Because if you have made up your mind how manv times you W.1 ask, you might as .-ell begin and ask as fast 'as you can and I can say 'no' all at once, without wasting words " Anna opened her eyes in astonishment. Then she crio 1 angrily : " I'U ask you Jifty times ! " ' a.d . Now begm ; ask. and n.ake a mark, and when you have fifty marks, you will be done asking and I will sny 'no - " Anna caught the paper and began .naking n,arks, crying; "(t \i :'^\ I !-hl rrtwa :o8 THE COMPLETE HOME. ^HII ^^^I^B '- ~ ,4 ^'Let me go; let me go; let me go." Finally she stopped: There ! that's fifty." ^ But Hester had kept private tally. "No, dear: it is but twenty ; go on." Anna went on, but she wearied of asking, and wanted to c^c off Hester held her left hand firmly "No; you must keep your word. Ask on, until fifty times." Finally Anna had asked fifty tunes. " No. my dear: not to-day," said Hester, smoothly and took up her book. Anna never again asked her twice for anythmg. Anna had been used to going to bed when she chose Hester set eight o'clock for bed-time, and her law was like that of the Medes and Persians. Then we had this scene. " Come Anna: it is bed-time." ' " Let me sit up : I'm not sleepy." Hester lit a lamp and took the child's hand. " Oh, it's too early: I don't want to go to bed." The two walked off up-stairs together. All the time the undressing went on Anna protested: " I don't want to rro to bed." ^^ " Now, Anna," said Hester, " it is time to say your prayers But we pray to God, and you should think only of Him and what you will ask of Him as you kneel down. I cannot hear your prayers while you fret in this way." A little talk put Anna in a mood for her prayers; she may have fancied that yielding thus far, Hester would yield in turn and allow her to sit up. However, the prayer over, Hester put her into bed. "I don't want to go to bed!" screamed Anna. "Anna," said Hester, "did I promise to take you to see Cousin Helen to-morrow? Do you expect I will do so ? " " You said you would," cried Anna. "And I shall certainly do as I said. But if I did not keep u'y word to you about r^oing to bed and .such thing, as you "'^»b S\', CHILDREN IN THE FAMILY. ' j^g do not like, how could you trust my word when I promised you what you do like ? " promised •• Maybe you will not take me if I am bad," said Anna. . I shall take you whether or no, for I said that I would and I cannot break my word." ""la, ana ;; f ° "f ^^•^ ^°^^ '^^^ I -n^ ? in scream and holla ? " shall not_ break my word for any badness. But how well w Id you enjoy gomg with me feelin, that I was displeased w.th you, and that you had been a bad girl? We are nof happy when we are ashamed: we are happy Ihen wTdo :;ht" Anna made no reply, and Hester came down-stairs I hope. Aunt Sophronia. that this child will not disturb you by her manoeuvres." ^ "Not at all" I replied; "I am interested in seeing how you get along with her." ^ ^ " " It's my view. Miss Hester," said Martha, who came in, « that you have the patience of Job." "It is not a question of patience." said Hester; "common-^ :::: -, t^t if we want to govern children, ;e must fir t govern ourselves. As to yielding to her fretting, it is impos- .b e. Dec.s,on .s a matter of the first importance in training . ren. A ' yes ' .should be hearty and unconditional, except on those understood conditions of life, health and weather, which arc not m human keeping. Our promise should be a rock on wh,ch the child could find unshaken foundation for building p . s p ans. Our 'no' should be a wall of bras, which the child sha g,ve up all hope or endeavor of shaking. Of two evi would mamtam a foolish 'yes' and a selfish 'no' rather than shake a child's f.ith in the fixity of my promises. But on^^ taku^g the trouble to consider, can prevent selfishness and folly in promises ; and the well-being of these immortal natures is surely worth our most earnest consideration " In fact. Hester has some ve^^ sound ideas about training Ivf ' . J Hj 'I 'tV no THE COMPLETE HOME. children, and I said as much to her, and wondered at it when she had had no experience, even with younger brothers and sisters, as many girls have. She said it was merely the applica- tion of common-sense, and that she believed the reason people trained children so poorly was, that they did not apply their common-sense and foresight to the training of their families as they did to other things. Hester's ideas of training take hold on looks and manners as well as on morals. We went one day to see Mary Smalley, who married a thriving young fellow named Watkins, and lives on a farm a mile from the village. Mary has a little girl two years old : a nice child, which she is proud of and worries over. The child has straight light hair, pretty enough a<5 nature made it; but Mary'n pride leads her to crimp it, by braiding it tightly over night, or doing it up over a hot hair-pin. Hester took exception to this. She said : " Mary, do you suppose little Nettie cares how she looks ? Is she happier for being crimped ? " " No," said Mary; " but / like to see it." " Now is not that a little selfish, Mary? Suppose Nettie lives to be fifty years old. For the first dozen years of her life she cares nothing for her looks ; if you keep her hair smooth and cut short in those years, you secure her a fine growth of silky locks, heavy and healthy. From twelve to twenty-five let us say that she has a little vanity in dressing-up and looking pretty. You have secured, in this nice hair, one of the most natural and admirable ornaments of a young maiden. After twenty-five, while she is less vain, let us hope that she will desire to be comely and pleasing in her looks ; she may have a husban to admire her; and we know the Scripture says that a woman's long hair is a glory to her. Of this glory of womanhood and beauty of girlhood, you, a selfish mother, will deprive your daughter, if for your own taste in this first dozen of years you UIILDREN IN THE FA MIL Y. Ill ruin lier hair with crimping, and weaken it by letting it grow long. Only keeping hair well brushed, and growing naturally, and cut short will secure a fine growth. Besides, Mary, if Nettie must be frizzed and crimped as a baby, how much crimp- ing and braiding and foolish decoration will she want in hef young ladyhood? Will you not lead her nto those idle vanities of dressing hair, which the Scripture reprobates in women pro. fessing godliness? " "Why, I never thought of all this," said Mary; "and is keeping the hair short, and letting it grow its 'own way, the only means to have it .soft and abundant when one is grown up?" "Yes, Mary," I said; "nothing hurts the hair more than tight crimping, frizzing on hot pins or rolling up over bits of t'in. Wash the head in cold water, brush it often and briskly, trim off the ends of the hair; and for a child, keep it cut short." " I'll do my best for Nettie's hair then," said Mary; "but now tell me: Nettie sucks her thumb. Some tell me to make her stop it, others say it is of no consequence. What do you say ? " " It is a habit that grows on a child; it spoils the thumb and the shape of the mouth ; I should stop it." " But how? I have tied on a rag, but she sucks it still," " Fasten on a little glove-thumb, buttoned around her wrist, io that she cannot pull it off; and soak the glove-thumb in aloes! ' She will soon tire of putting it in her mouth." Nettie had a blue ribbon on her hair. The child's real defect is, that her cars stand out too widely from her head. Hester had the little thing on her lap, and she took off this ribbon, and re-tied it, placing the edges over the upper part rf the ears, bind- ing tlicm to the head with an easy pressure. She said to Mar>-, tvho was complaining that Nettie's ears were not pretty : " Nature needs a little aiding. Let her wear her ribbons this ay. night and day, until she is seven or eight years old. and hA 1 '• w , I It H 112 THE COMPLETE HOME. you will have conquered the defect entirely. And this fashion of head-ribbon is becoming to her." " Hester," said Mary, "you used to condemn dress and vanity so much, I thouglit you would call it foolish to care about good looks." "Beauty is a gift of God," said Hester; "good looks are, in themselves, a pleasure to all beholders. To cultivate good looks or personal beauty is different from cultivating vanity, for in proportion as self-conscious vanity comes in, really good looks vanish. Since God is right in sending some children into the world beautiful, and all with some elements of beauty, we are right in doing all that we can to aid nature, and to make the personal appearance beautiful. I think there is no finer sight than to see gathered about the table a beautiful family; there is something elevating and refining in that very beauty if it is unmixed with low vanity and self-display; and in every family there will be more or less of this beauty, if there is neatness, grace, gentleness, loving-kindness. Plato says : ' Let our youth dwell in a land of health, amid fair sights and sounds, and beauty, the effluence of fair works, will meet the sense like a breeze, and insensibly draw the soul, even in childhood, into harmony with beauty and reason.' " ^ "Ah!" said Mary, "what a pity that we cannot all be beautiful!" " We can," said Hester. " There are three great elements of personal beauty: first, healthfulness ; second, intelligence of expression ; third, youthfulness. By cultivating, then, health of body, developing our minds to the best of our abilities, and being too industrious, patient and cheerful to get fretful and care-lined and old, we shall always be very beautiful. And in this beauty, parents should train their children." Helen and Hester have not quite ceased their early disputa. tions. One day we were all going to visit Cousin Ann. Hester "i*li CHILDREN m THE FAMIL Y. Ill put on Anna a clean calico frock -, nv r wide-brimmed hat- R . ^ °^ '*°"* ^''°^« ^"d a "iMunica nat, Helen dresser! I;hi« t *ir,., wide sash and Wd boots hI ,' '" '^"'"•<"*'-'=d children of their natun,! rH,! "T "?'"'■'' """ ""= "'"■P-cd care, when we loaded „ , 1 '' '"''''"'"■"">■ '''"^ "■<=<= °f taKeeareoC "A J^^d 'f "" ' "".''"""^ '^'■'■^'' "^^ ™-' one-half of its „1 ,1 ^ ' "T " ' ""•"'^ ''"'= -■™' - p.™. Of air a„r::: a^d iii^t^zr n'" T"- *e. sha„ te:;r eir 7e"'£r:;,: " "=^^"' '^^' with tlie curse of the F,ll 1 , " """Ccessarily clothin,; their 1 is^lTdr L ' '"^ '""" """-^^'■' Clothes as they eould for^ and h ' "" '" "' ""'' ." -.e anselweep d ' I see .atlitTa '"''' ^ ^''=""* Mne-year old miss in • i^ n ^ °'°"'""' *='=" A fathers, wateh Tn d, "' '"=' ="" «— • -« dred rbllars of dress as he 27 ^ "^" "" "' '"'""' ''""- - ..." waist, paieret; rdX'Zf ^TdT r ?r: fed, and given nice rolls <=,' . '' ™ "'" '''•'^'"^'=''' «" thing a nfothe" "In It ", " "°' "^"^^ *>' '^e best Helen's o^ day X Id! t'^™ "-''''^='^- *= "^ - "MammalwhatVIh,™ ■ "" '" "'* ^ ^"-^ ^"«^ " Tom, pet ! your feet I all dusty and— d„nV t i, '"'" "r - ^.^'.-P^ay throw*:: thingLVr^" "^ "*' 114 THE COMPLETE HOME. :1 J^ % " But what is it, mamma ? what is it ? " " Why, I don't know, child : a bit of cotton, perhaps." Tom looked disappointed. "Such a child," said Helen: " forever asking questions! " Hester took Tom, helped herself to a plate and tumbler, went out on the verandali, made a large spider captive and returned Tom screamed at the spider. " Come, come," said Hester, " don't be a silly boy. See here: this is Mrs. Spider. She is a mamma, and instead of three babies like your mamma, she has about a hundred. To keep her babies warm and dry, she spun them this fuzzy ball which you brought in : it is their cradle. Come and look what soft, yellow silk blankets ; peep in now, while I pull the blanket open; do you see all those little squirming things? Those are Mrs. Spider's babies, kicking about because their bed-clothes are off Those little shiny balls are more babies, not big enough to kick." " Oh, how little ! will they grow big? " cried Tom. " Yes, they will be as big as their mamma, by-and-by." " But so many ! they'll run all over the house." " No, Tom, as they begin to get out, rain and cold will kill some ; the birds and big insects will eat a good many, and so only very few will live to get as big as Spider Mamma." " Poor weeny .spiders ; let's put 'em all out-doors now." "Bless me," said Helen, when Hester returned, "you'd be a treasure to Tom, if you'd satisfy his mind that way.' " Dear Helen," said Hester, " it is j'oi/r duty to satisfy his mind. If you teach him to take interest in natural things, talk to hirvi, and fill his little head with the good and u.seful and tin. wonJcrs of God's work, yru will leave little room in it for vice and folly that some day might break your heart." '■ But I've no time, Hester," pleaded Helen. " Take time for what is so important. Have less ruffles and CHILDREN m THE FAMILY. jj, fancy trimniings; and you can talk to him while you sew or nurse the baby ; look at his curiosities, and talk of them " ' But I don't know about all these wonders of nature " "You ..;. know easily enough. Newspapers and magazines are fu 1 of articles on natural histo^^; if you cannot read all that ■s m the magazine, omit the stones. There are dozens of cheap I.tt.e books on insects, birds, shells, animals ; feel it a duty to read these for your children's sake. Throw away the novcN and read these. I think fewer wives would complain of loneli- ness :. the needful absence of their husbands, and their own severance from society, if they set seriously about being the companions and teachers and friends of their children, and makmg these children companions for themselves. Have Mark put up two or three low shelves in the back of the hall, and encourage Tom to make a museum there of h.s wonderful curi, os.t,es,. .f you talk with him about them, you may make a Phdosopher of him, at least you will make him an observing and happy httle boy. In all your work it would, if you one! accustomed yourself to it, be a relief to your own mind and a grea pleasure also to satisfy the curiosity of your child, and develop his growing thoughts." Helen presently began complaining how destructive Tom was. Mrs. Burr had come in, and she said: "Trust me, Helen, where there ^ dcstructivcncss there Is also constructivcncss ; yo. can Z ^'f;:':^7«^'"^ ^'''■"^- by giving them something to -ke. I t nnk a 1 children, but especially boys, should have -c, sors and glue, hammer, nails, knife, boards, paper and pa.ste and let them mvent, and contrive, and manufacture: you will' toTers." ■'' the, prefer putting things together to pulling the. .r.;' ."'*;' \ '?'." '^ "^"^'^ b^ -'^h children provided fn that «>ie, ubjcctca licien. -They ought to have a place for such work: a corner of th« ■ I '■ till J 116 THE COMPLETE HOME. wood-shed or barn, or a share of the attic, or a place curtained off somewhere if you have no separate room. A small room over a kitchen, a room with a stove-pipe running through it in winter, is a choice place for a boy's shop. You were glad when Tom was born that you had a son: don't now wish that he was a girl ; or what is as foolish, wish that he developed like a girl into sewing and doll-playing. The boy spirit will out, and it is yours to guide it aright." "I often think I am foolish," said Helen, "to worry over Tom's ways, his noise, and curiosity and mischief. You have no idea how misciiievous he is." "I remember," I said, "that Cousin Ann told me how mis- chievous Fred was when he first ran alone. One day his father was shaving, getting ready for church; he had a new high silk hat on the table ; he heard a crash : Fred had taken the hat and turning it crown upward had made a seat of it. His father flcv; to rescue the hat, and while he tried to straighten it, he looked up, and there was Fred, razor in hand, getting ready to shave." "What ever did she do with such a child?" cried Helen. "She said she reasoned that here was the result of great ener- gies and an active mind. The child must have an outlet for these in work, study and play. She kept him employed picking up chips, setting the shoes in the closet in rows, feeding chickens, observing the habits of birds, making lamp-lighters, even string- ing buttons ; and finally secured a habit of directing his energies to useful labor, rather than to mischief. Believe me, Helen, we have not fulfilled our part to our children, when they are fed, nursed and clothed: wc must teach them. And we have not done our part in teaching when we have taught them their pray- ers, their alphabet, to sew, to count, and have then sent them to school. Wc must guide their energies into proper outlet^ and never weary in informing their minds." m CHILDREN m THE FAMILY. jjy "And," said Mrs. Burr, "we must build them up in honesty unselfishness, kindness, industry, purit;- of mind and word " ' "And," added Hester, "all these virtues must rest on the foundation stone oi obedience, regard for law. I remember Plato says: 'Our youths should be educated in a stricter rule fronx the first, for if education becomes lawless, and the youths them- selves become lawless, they can never grow up into well-coa- aucted and virtuous citizens.' " '-% Ill CHAPTER V. SICKNESS IN THE HOME. AUNT SOPHRONIA ON NURSING AND HEALTH-PRESERVING. HEARD a foolish neighbor once remark, that he always felt angry at sick peop'e— that sickness was a mere out- ^^^ come of wickedness. God made people to be healthy, ^ and when they were not so, it was because they had been violating some plain principle of life, "doing something that they ought not to have done, or leaving undone those things which they ought to have done— and there is no health in them : " he quoted the prayer-book right then and there. I felt quite provoked at him, and I said: "My good friend, you'll have to carry some of your anger as far back as Adam, to find a suitable f bject, because .sickness is part of the curse of the Fall, and is the seed of death, which Adam brought into the world. Do you remember what Christ said about the man that was born blind? 'Neither did this man sin, nor his parents, that he was born blind,' meaning that the blindness was the fruit of no especial wickedness in them." However, as I calmly consider it, I see that there was a grain of .sen.«e in my neighbor's ob.servations ; there is in mo.st people's, and I must relieve my mind by saying that there is not w/.w than a grain of sense in most people's talk. Stil! the more I thmk upon it. the more clearly I sec that sickness, especially epidemics, and diseases of a kind which seize upon whole families, or recur frequently -.i the .same families, are often, perhaps nearly always, the result of some ijnorancc or carclessne:.:j of our owa (118) 4. r .«r;^ SICKNESS IN THE HOME. jjg We do not half understand the laws of health; we do not study half carefully enough the needs and dangers of our own bodies • we do not half enough respect our bodies, which we should chensh and regard as homes of immortal spirits, and especially because, ,f we will have it so, God himself condescends to tb.de m his people, and to use humanity for his service. That IS a poor form of religion which affects to despise the body that God made in his own iniao-e. When I read the biographies of such men as Martyn Payson Brainerd and others, who have done great good in the world' but, doing it burdened by feeble bodies, finally died prematurely and so deprived humanity of much more good which they might have done had they lived to the ordinary limit of human life I consider their evident neglect of their bodies, their rccklJss exposure to fatigue and storms, their depriving them of proper nourishment, a positive crime. Many good men have so lived that they made it impossible for God to spare them for longer work, except by a miracle, so did they contravene the laws a^^nd despise the lights of nature. In this present day, possibly, there IS too much devotion to purely physical culture, and good men indulge their bodies too much, and devote to their comfort too large a proportion of their thoughts and efforts. There is a happy mean to be attained, and toward that we should move. Sickly bodies very often produce feeble brains, bad manners, and bad morals. This is especially true where the feebleness of body begins in childhood; the weakly child cannot learn with zeal and ple-':ure: it is peevish and cowardly; a house full of sickly children is . house full of cares, anxious and overtaxed parents, -onfusion. and often poverty, induced by the heavy expenses of illness. The Home can only be really bright and m orderly where there is general health and and father works at daily toil wearied with vigor A husband u great disadvantage, who goes out to his a wakeful night by a sick-bed, and bur* :| « I ; ff| 1, ! 'our first child, some well-expe- rienced mother had given you the benefit of her observations, it might have been exceedingly useful to you, and yours." " Yes, certainly; only in a measure, rules being laid down, we must learn to apply them for ourselves. Still, good rules are of unspeakable value." " Well, Cousin Ann, these young mothers among our friends want to g'-t the benefit of your experience, and desire that you should g've them some instructions in regard to training physi- cally their little ones." "Bless me, Sophronia," said Cousin Ann; "as far as that goes, you have looked into the subject of health-keeping as fully as I have, and can tell them all they need to know." "That may be, cousin. Yet, as you have raised six hearty children, the advice might come with more weight and authority from your lips than from mine, even though the advice was identical in both cases." So after a little talking Cousin Ann agreed to make a tea- party and afternoon visit for our young friends, and I went around with the invitations. They came early, and were all expectation to hear Cousin Ann's advice. "Come," said Helen, "we expect to be packed full of learn- ing which shall benefit our descendants at least to the fourth generation. Begin. Cousin Ann ; time is not tarrying." '"How am I to begin?" asked Cousin Ann. "Upon my r where to com word, I don't know what I ou[ say, mence. SICKNESS IN THE HOME. joj "Be-in at the beginning," said Miriam. "Here are these tA'ssed babies; they are dading little animals which spend ^ half their time in eating, and the other half in sleeping, and if there is any time left over, they occupy it in staring about." "They act as nature dictates," said Cousin Ann, "and which tvork— eating or sleeping— is the niore important I cannot tell. As to tlie sleeping, strive to promote it, for by it a babe grows. Never let rude noises rouse it; let no pride in displaying the child, no neighborly curiosity, call it from slumber; let it sleep in silence, and in a room moderately darkened ; have an abso- lutely regular time for putting it to sleep at night, whether it seems sleepy or not : habit is all-powerful. At that bed-time strip off all its day-garments, don't leave for night even a shirt worn in -I ;. . and let the child sleep in flannel which is clean, and di ic day has been well-aired and sunned. Some children dirive on a batli both at rising and at bed-time ; some are better only for the morning-bath. If the child is not fully bathed at night, wash its head well in cold water, and rub the whole body briskly with your hand or a soft towel : this pro- motes circulation and induces .-ilumbcr. Until a child is six years old, encourage it to sleep late in the morning, for the first years of a child's life need much sleep. After the child is six, have a regular hour for rising as well as for retiring; but never fail to send it early to bed until it is thirteen years old. A child should be covered warmly, but not too warmly; its sleeping place should be well aired, and it should never sleep with its head covere'd up. Neither is it good for a child to sleep sunk in fathers, or in abed with grown people; for the little creatures sink down and injure their blood by inhaling bad air. A moderately hard bed, which daily is well aired and sunned, is best for a child. I prefer to any other a straw bed, where the straw is renewed at feast every three months— better every two I.ittlc children should sleep much in the day-time; even if 13 a III 'I' 'hi m m m J 32 TI/£ COMPLETE HOME. they do not seem sleepy it is better, morning and afternoon, to wash 11 ir hands and faces, put on a loose slip, remove theit shoes, and place them on a bed : they will soon get a habit of ^ sleeping at these intervals; their constant activity when wakmg and the necessities of growth demand much rest." Cousin Ann paused, and our party discussed the sleep ques- tion for some time. Then Mary Smalley said : " Cousin Ann, what about the other point-the child's food ? " " Nature itself teaches," said Cousin Ann, " that if a mother is healthful and able to nurse her babe from her own breast, she should :o so. If this is impossible, I would prefer feedmg a child to the dangers of wet-nursing. Some physicians advocate goats' milk rather than cows' ; whichever milk is used, a mother should prepare it and the vessels in which it is placed herself, using most scrupulous care as regards the purity and the soundness of the food, its temperature, quality and flavor. You ruin a child's health by giving it one while hot milk, again cold milk; now unsweetened, now loaded with sugar; letting the bottle or cup smell of stale milk, or the milk offered be on the verge of acidity. " I have seen people give a child of six or eight months old all kinds of food, even to cucumber-pickle and salt pork. A youn- child should have milk alone for six months at least. Possibly then a little well-made, clear mutton-broth or beef-tea might be given occasionally. The tiext addition to diet could be ground rice made into a thin gruel, provided you grind the rue yourself. V>y the time a child is ten mdnths old it might be allowed a bit of broiled beefsteak or a wing of fowl to suck in it, own fashion. When it is a year old, boiled oats, rice, a baked potato smoothly mashed.a little corn-meal mush or gruel.and ripe fruit may find a place on its bill of fare. Never give a child, under six years old. cake, preserves, pies, tea, coffee or pickles. Let their food be plain, given at regular intervals, well cooked, using -* i. n SICKNESS IN- THE HOME. 133 (ittle fat, and no fried things, and the variety not very great. A child, who has plenty of sleep, plenty of good air, plenty of play out of doors, will always be ready for a hearty meal of bread or mush and milk, baked potatoes, mutton or rice-pudding. Don't fancy every time a babe cries that it is hungry ; perhaps its discomfort is from surfeit. Don't urge a child to eat, pam- pering its appetite, and pressing dainties upon it; and don't check its appetite for plain, wholesome food. Remember the child eats to live and to grow, and it needs more food in pro- portion to its size than a man needs." "Should children eat between meals?" asked Mary Watkins. "I should never refuse a child an apple or a slice of plain bread and butter bctv/ecn meals; for all we know the little one may reajly be faint and hungry; neither should I give a child a hearty lunch just before dinner or just after breakfast. Children get a habit of eating at improper times. I have seen children screaming for toast or meat, just as they got into bed, d\\ hour after supper. Don't give a child pie, cake, or bread piled with sugar, honey or molasses between meals. When it asks for bread, never refuse it." "Now for the baby's third fashion of spending its time; for instance, in staring around," said Helen. "There is little to say as to that; never let the child sit or lie* with light falling across its eyes, nor gazing at a strong light. Don't let it have hangings or playthings too near its eyes; put whatever it looks at fairly before it, and let it have plenty to look at. Babies like bright things; make them balls or cushions of bright-colo: od worsteds, generally of red, never of green orbroum, lest there be poison in the dye; little cats and rabbits of cotton flannel, and rag-dolls dressed in gay colors, are things to please its eye, and cannot hurt it when it knocks them about, or thrusts them in its moulli. As the child is older, give it books made of pictures pasted on leaves of muslin, sewed in a strong cover. >'i| ' ?i 11 ; it ^ ill ]■ 131 THE COMPLETE HOME. n m \ I Let the room where a child spends its waking hours be bright and cheerful; let pleasant faces and voices surround it; don'l jerk it or startle it; happiness is a large element in health fulness." "Tell me, Cousin Ann," said I, "do you carry out through life your rule of changing all one's garments from day to night?" " Yes," replied Cousin Ann ; " I think many a fever, many a fit of jaundice or biliousness, would be saved if one \vould divest themselves at night of all which they wear during the day. Many wear the same flannel vest night and day; they would be far more robust and cheery if the day flannel were removed, well shaken and hung up wrong side out during the night, and a night flannel were used, served the same fashion by day. I have seen people allow children to go to bed in their stockings, because they say the beds are cold : that plan is ter- ribly unhcalthful, and promotive of sore throats and fevers. Every child's feet should be well warmed and dried before retir- ing; a mother should sec to that herself, and if from lack of circulation the feet do not keep warm at night, then heat an old flannel skirt, or a piece of a blanket, and let the feet be wrapped up in that. Many a weary hour by sick beds, many tears over coffins would be saved, if mothers looked more closely after their children's feet, that they might be warmed when cold, and have shoes and hose changed Avhen wet." " Many people would say your idea about night and day flan- nels demanded too many clothes, and made too large washings," suggested Mary Watkins. " I should reply, that clothes were cheaper than doctors' bills, and washing less onerous work than sick-nursing. Besides, a .set of flannels too thin for further day-use, can be darned and mended up for night, and as nftrr n!! tho clothing i-. '.vorn but twenty-four hours out of a day, I cannot see that washing would be materially increased." S/CA'A'£SS IN THE HOME. 135 " Do you think people should sleep in winter between sheets or blankets?" asked one of Cousin Ann's auditors. " Between sheets, by all means : they are likely to be changed each week, and blankets, owing to weight and color, are not i'kcly to get washed so often. Pounds of insensible perspira tion. carrying particles of waste matter, flow off from the pores of our bodies during sleep; this refuse matter fills the clothes we wear, and our bedding: thence arises the need of exchan<.e between night and day clothes, and of ample washing and airing of our bedding. Some people make their beds as soon as they rise. This is a dangerous plan; not tidy, as they fancy, but really very dirty. I think one reason why Germans are so healthy generally is. that they huve such a passion for airinc. their beds; they let them lie airing half the time. However" I believe an hour each morning, when the night and bed- clothes are spread well out to air and sunlight, and perhaps two hours on sweeping day. will keep the beds in veiy good order." J- b '^ Cousin Ann began to bustle about, as if she thought that she had talked quite enough. But Miriam cried out : "One word, Cousin Ann, on exercise and play." " Take a lesson from the young of the brute creation- from the calves, colts and lambs. They thrive on air, sunshin. and free gambols. Let your children go out every day. unless per- haps m heavy rain. You can soon inure them to cold or damp weather, if they are well protected and do not sit down in the wet or draughts. Don't fear sun and wind for them : let them race and climb and jump, and dress them in strong, easy-fitting clothes, so that they may be untrammelled in the development of their muscles. Don't force a child to any study before it i, seven years old ; before that time you can make a play of learning to read, to roun^ nprl f-^ ^, t_ i • i .. , _ ---!!.., „n-i .(. .„,,,,, anu Cipher a iulic. In the readin<» you provide a pleasant occupation for daj^s of storm or ill health. f'J !"'i; i 136 THE COMPLETE HOME. Most bright children, with a box of letter-blocks, an alphabet card and a picture primer, will pick up reading before they are more than five. Give a child a seat suited to its height, and with a back ; let its pillow be very low ; don't hurry it as a babe to sit, stand or walk before nature urges it to do so : this over- haste and letting the boneless legs bear the child's weight give weak backs and crooked limbs. Each night and morning as you dress the young child, firmly and gently rub and press the legs straight, doing your part to prevent that ugly curve which distorts so many weak legs. If you want your child to be vig- orous in play and exercise, give it an abundance of baths: bathe it every day, using warm or cold v/ater — never hot, never freez- ing, but warm or cold as best agrees with your child's constitu- tion. Don't forget that in infancy and Childhood you are start- ing your child on the voyage of life, which is likely to be long and prosperous, or short and hapless, according as you give it a wise start— a sound, healthful, physical training. When you rear boys, don't be afraid to have them real boys ; know that it is natural to them to fish, ride, skate, sled, row, hunt ; and so let them do it, in honest company and with wise limitations. Don't be afrr.id that your girl will be tomboyish ; if she will coast, and ride, climb, and skate, and run, so much the better: to exercise vigorously is neither rude nor immodest; we get hardy, health- ful girls in the same fashion as hardy, healthy boys, and I had much rather see little miss at fourteen jumping a fence, climb- ing a tree, scaling the roof and riding barebacked, while her cheek knows how to blush at too fixed a gaze, and eyes and ears are not greedily hunting for compliments, than to see her simpering and small-talking, playing the immature flirt with every jacket which comes in sight, her whole soul fixed on the pet of her dress and the doing of her hair." Cousin Ann had quitr- excited herself on her favorite theme: she paused, smiled, wiped her face, laid by her spectacles and iliMI SICICNESS m THE HOME. jg- her knitting, and stepped into the kitchen to give a careful eye to the supper. Altogether we had all had a most instructive visit To my surprise and I must say my gratification I found that' my young friends did not yet think themselves perfectly accom phshed m regard to conserving and procring family health, and that they desired yet further information. I received an invita« t.on to early tea at Mary's, and repairing thither. I found all the young circle there. Indeed, the company was a partnership affair; M.nam and Helen had both contributed to the tea and lent the.r help in preparing; Helen had brought Hannah to nurse several of the babies out in the garden, in order to leave the mothers uninterrupted, and Miriam had brought little Ann whom she h.d taken from me, to wait on the table. No sooner was I seated in the centre of the group, than Miriam, as speaker for the rest, said : "Aunt Sophronia. we have been instructed how to keep our houses healthful; we have had much advice as to how to keep our children healthful, and to build up sound bodies for sound minds to inhabit. But even in healthful houses disease makes .ts appearance, and even the most vigorous children sometimes :all 111. Now, Aunt Sophronia, we shall be poorly off if we do not know how to meet disease-how to nurse our sick Instruct us." " My dear Minam." I said, "it seems to me that to most sen. ..ble women sick-nursing comes by instinct. It .s an instinct which fahs to the share of some men. and of most women " instinct is veiy good," said Miriam, "but reason is better- I have seen some women perfectly lost and helpless in a s:ck-room," remarked Mary. % '•I'm afra,d I'd be very much in that case!" cried H^len And you know." added some one else, "that even if we arc .0 unusually fortunate as to have little or no s.ckness ,n our fiiendrr' ",?"'' ""' "^^'^^ °''^^"^'"^^ °- -^ to our luends and neighbors." m \\ t* ... i. J 'MM 138 THE COMPLETE HOME. W . :i " Indeed," I said, " a woman who cannot wisely do duty in a sick-room is like a woman who has lost her right hand." " Begin then, Aunt Sophronia," said Miriam, "at the begin- ning. Let us see to the sick-room first, then to the nurse, then to the patient, then to the medicine and food." " When you may choose a sick-room," I said, " get one as large as possible: crowding, closeness and rustling against things distract a patient. Take this room, as commodious a one as you can find, and have it thoroughly cleaned : white- washed walls are better for it than paper-hangings, and a mat- ting, with rugs, than a carpet. You must place the bed so that the room can be completely ventilated without a draught pass- ing over the bed. A fire-place is a rare treat in a sick-room, ventilating it, removing dampness, and making good cheer ; even in a summer sick-room a little wood-fire in a fire-place, morning and evening, would be useful. Dr. Guthrie gives good advice : he says that he exposed himself freely to infectious and conta- gious diseases in his ministerial duties, and never contracted any illness because he was careful to insist ' on the door being left open while he was in the room, and always took a position between the open door and the patient, and not between the patient and the fire-place.' A nurse cannot keep the door open, but can and should keep the room well aired, protecting her patient from a current of air; and the nurse should be care- ful and not stand between her patient and the fire " "What furniture is best for a sick-room C " asked Mary. " Do not have it crowded ; have nothing that will rattle and rustle ; have the curtains of some kind of cloth, not shades ; have as easy a chair as you can for the patient's sitting up, and with this chair a blanket or quilt, which does not belong to the bed-furniture, to wrap over the feet and knees of the invalid while resting in the chair. Have also a footstool or heavy foot- cushion: this can be easily manufactured from a box padded SICA'NESS IN rt/E NOME. 139 and covered with carpet; or two circles of wool patchwork maj be made, united with a strip of cloth six inches wide, and filled with hay or chaff: Do not let your sick-room be dull : put a picture or two, and a fancy bracket or something pretty, on the walls ; have within sight of the bed a stand neatly covered, and furnished with a book or two, an ornament, a vase of flowers, or, in winter even, of evergreens, hollies, or dried grasses, some- thing graceful and restful to the eye. I believe in flowers in a sick-room, if there are not so many of them as to load the air with their smell, and if at night they are set outside of the window. Let the bed-clothing be warm enough, perfectly clean, and not too heavy: blankets are t^etter than cotton quilts. See that the washstand is provided with water, towels and all things needful, so that there shall be no annoyance of searching for thin^-s, flurrying about, and asking 'how,' 'where,' 'what!' Have a closet-shelf for medicines and ail disagreeables of that kind. If there is no closet in the room, or in any part of the furniture, have a box, neatly covered, nailed against the wall, out of the patient's sight, shade it with a little white curtain, and use it as a closet for bottles and spoons. Of all things keep the sick- room neat, quiet and cheerful. Even patients who, when well, are careless and noisy, when ill are sensitive to the disturbance of disorder, and are soothed by neatness and calm." "I think," said Mary, shutting her eyes, " that I can now see exactly how a comfortable side-room should look. Now for the nurse." "One who is taking care of the sick," I continued, "should cultivate self-possession, calmness, quiet cheerfulness, patience, a gentle, soft voice, a tender hand, and the faculty which many characterize as being 'handy'— that is, taking the right thing at the right time— never dropping or knocking over things ; also a good memory." . "Who can have so many virtues!" cried Helen, m i 140 THE COMPLETE HOME. 'I* " Love will unconsciously instil them all ; love, a habit of striving to do well, and a thoughtful watchfulness over self A nurse should be neat in person, clean and plain in dress ; she should never wear a dirty gown, nor a gown which rustles, nor a glaring color, while the more attractive she can make her appearance, in the way of simple good taste, the better will she suit the sick-room. She should not be grim and taciturn, neither a gossip and a chatterbox ; she should not admit too many visi- tors ; her authority should be unassuming, and assured. Those who nurse sick children should cultivate the pow( of telling pleasantly unexciting stories, and should sing softly to the little invalids v/hen they desire it. The nurse should study the duty of ' put yourself in his place ; ' that is, she should be sympathetic, and readily excuse fretfulness, crossness, fears, and other sick non- sense, because these are a part of sickness, and something which, when ill, she might fall into herself A good nurse must know how"to air a room without chilling her patient; she must be skilful to make a bed with the invalid in it, if that invalid cannot be moved ; ingcriious in airing bed-clothes thoroughly in a short time, and without exposing them to dampness ; thoughtful to screen her sleeping patient's eyes from light : to shelter him also from light while sunning the room ; quick-handed in bathing and combing, and changing a patient's clothes; very careful to avoid using damp bedding, ill-aired towels, or getting garments of the sick one wet while the toilette is proceeding. A nurse should avoid fretting, bringing bad or exciting news into a sick- room, heavy prognostications, or complaining of the physician in charge, and striving to shake the patient's faith in him. A nurse should know how to sweep a sick-room without raising a dust, and to dress a fire without making a noise. A matting in a sick-room can be well, quietly and easily cleaned, by using a broom with a damp cloth pinned over it ; coal can be noiselessly put on a fire by having each handful or so of coals tied up S/CA'XESS LV THE HOME. 141 in paper, or put into little paper-bags; this is a very valuable precaution where an invalid is very low, or exceedingly sensitive to noise." "And how shall our nurse treat the patient?" asked Helen. "She must be kind, forbearing, firm: not leaving the patient* the trouble of doing their own thinking, or feeling the respon- sibility of taking care of themselves. The first thing in the morning the patient has a right ;> be i.iade comfortable ; the bed must be put in order; what ba.hing is a' lowed should be done; the hair smoothed; the room i Irci It d. pends on the patient whether this is done before givin,: ihr, luorning meal, or a little food is given first, then the putting in order done, and then the morning meal. A patient's whims should be studied and grati- fied where they are not harmful; harmful whims should be pleasantly put aside. To some patients one must administer a little firm reasoning. Medicine should be given neatly and in as palatable a way as possible, and the patient should not be irritated by seeing it standing about. All disagreeables should, as far as possible, be kept out of sight." "And what about this medicine-taking, and running after a doctor all the time?" asked Miriam. " Generally speaking, there is too much of it. Rules of health are neglected, and then a heavy dose of medicine is expected to set disorganized nature right. The mother disregards a little hoarseness, a complaint of sore throat, a slight chill, a degree of feverishness, and a restless night: the warnings which nature gives of coming ill. No change is made in food, no simple alterative is given, no foot-bath, no external application of simples; the disease grows worse, then heavy doses are given: the doctor is called to rectify somebody's blunders, and there is a long case of sickness. A mother's eye should be quick to note the varying health-tokens in her family, while she should be careful not to be nervous, not to fall into a fright at a child's im HJlJ ■ !■ IHIIq I ^^» pi' '' #ri li i ^- Ji » r mm r ul ' ( m j 1 ' 1 ■ : IP 1 i ... J -12 r//E COMPLETE HOME. i ^1^ sncczinf;, or sudden pain, or slight fcvcrishncss. Some doctors arc called day and night to sec families where there is nothing the matter but a child's having too late or too solid a supper, or having been allowed too hard a frolic. Every woman of good judgment and of any degree of observation, with a good physi- cian to fall back upon, one whose style of practice she has care- fully noted, should be able to treat the simple ailments of her family without fuss, excitement or doctor's help. She should know how to use properly a few simple remedies; she should understand the value of outward applications, of foot-baths, poultices ; the virtues of mustard ; the efficacy of external appli- cations for sore throat; the use of baths, local or general; the preparation of simple gargles, and she should be able, unalarmed, to bring to bear on a case of illness her common-sense, and the result of her past experience and observation. There are many women who have seen so much of sickness, have read so care- fully standard works on nursing and medicine, and have observed so closely th.o sj'mptoms and developments of ordinary disease, that they very seldom need in their families any skill except their own. And these very skilful persons are, I have observed, those who give the least medicine, and attend most closely to the laws of health, and the work of prevention. I remember years ago I had called at ]\Irs. Burr's one evening when she was absent. As I sat talking with Mr. Burr, their youngest child woke with an acute attack of croup. 'John,' cried Mr. Burr to the servant, 'run for Mrs. Burr and the doctor: but get Mrs. Burr first' "I ventured to say: ' Had you not better call the doctor first? ' '"No," .said he, ' I shall feel twice as safe with Mrs. Burr in the home. She ends for the doctor now and then, but I pin my faith to her, and she's never failed me.' . " Sure cnotKjh. Mrs. Burr had the child relieved and quite out of danger bctcrc the doctor got in. lie looked over at her, with a laugh : S/CA'JVESS IN THE HOME. 143 •"O, Mrs. Burr! are you home? Why, then, I might as well have finished the nap I was taking.' "Once in the winter I spent with Cousin Ann, little Dick came home from school one stormy afternoon, looking very ill; he wheezed, his face was swollen, he shook as with ague, 'yet burned with fever; he had such a pain in his chest that he was crying, and was so hoarse that he could hardly .speak : ' this state he had v/alked a mile in the storm, his feet were soaking wet, and his brother Reed said that Dick had been sick all day^ Really he looked desperately ill. Cousin Ann bid Reed remove tiio child's boo^s and outer clothing. She set a tub in front of the kitchen fire, put therein a tablespoonful of soda, and a liberal supply of watrr as hot as Dick could stand. She stripped the little creature, and gave him a thorough hot bath, put on his woollen night-gown, wrapped him in a blanket, and laid him on the lounge, which I wlieeled near the fire. She put a hot water bottle at his feet, laid a plaster of flour and mustard on his breast, and one of the same about his neck, gave him a mild dose of physic, gently combed his hair, and laid a cloth wet in vinegar on his aching head. In twenty minutes from his miser- able and suffering entrance to his home, Dick, feeling perfectly safe now that he was in his mother's hands, was lying warmly wrapped and comfortably pillowed, his whole aching frame feeling the relief of his hot soda bath. Cousin Ann then quietly cleared away the soiled clothes, the tub and towels, sat down by Dick, sewing in hand, and began to sing liim a little song. Leforc long, his breathing grew easier, and he fell into a deep sleep. Cousin Ann and I then lifted the lounge into tlic next room where it was warm, and he would not be aroused by the supper-getting. Returning then to the kitchen, she took Reed's case in hand : up to this tinie .she had made no remark to him. 1, -Y.i^.i J.U.!, ,,a,<- br^'iiKT jccnied ih, why uia you not at once bring him home ? If he seemed too sick to walk tlie ll; % ijillfr 144 THE COMPLETE HOME. II f A mile, why not have borrowed a conveyance at one of the neigh' bors'? Do you not see how cruel and dangerous it was to let him grow worse, and suffer there all day, and then walk home in this storm ? It might have sacrificed his life ! ' " ' Well,' said Reed, ' I did not know that he was so very sick, and I did not want to miss my lessons.' '"It is wise to be on the safe side,' said his mother; 'an ounce of prevention is wortii a pound of cure ; and our pleasures and preferences should always give way to another's pain. Always remember : never trifle ivitJi disease! " In less than a week Dick was as well as ever ; but some peo- ple in a fright would have put him to bed, and have allowed him to get worse for two hours, while they were sending into town for a doctor, instead of using the simple, common-sense remedies at hand." By this time in our talk we had reached the tea hour. After tea wc had a little discussion about the food for sick people. The substance of our conclusions was as follows : An invalid's food should be prepared and pi-esented with the utmost neatness. A sick person is more fastidious tlian a well person ; he eats with his eyes as much as with his mouth ; he will take his gruel out of a china bowl, when he would reject it slovenly presented in a tin-cup. Do not present a patient too much food at once; a large quantity will disgust, where a small amount will tempt a sickly taste. Let the food be presented attractively, sprc-id a clean napkin on tlie tray, and use as nice and as small dishes as you can, and add, if possible, a spray of flowers ; the capricious invalid, needing food, yet indifferent to it, will eat what is fhu:i brought, " because it looks so pretty." If the case is in charge of a physician, carefully follow his orders in regard to food ; if you are both nurse and doctor, u.se your common-sense, and give food light and easy of digestion, palatable and varied in quantity and quality as convalescence progresses, Every woman 1.1 S/CA-.VESS IX THE HCME. 145 should know how to prepare gruel, beef-tea, mutton-broth toast, toast-water, panada, chickcn-.soup, a bit of broiled fowl or steak and the various other dainties and necessities of the sick-room' When you poach an egg for your invalid do it nicely; do not make it hard as a bullet, with edges ragged and streaming, hut turn the white skilfully over the yolk until it is a smooth oblong. lightly cooked ; lift it carefully with your skimmer unfl It IS well drained; sprinkle on the centre a little salt and pepper; lay it on four or five green leaves, parsley, if you have them-if not, on two or three celery or carrot leaves ; have ready a diamond-shaped piece of toast, of an even brown, and carry up both hot^n a white-covered tray: if you have a spray of honey-suckle, a rose or a c'uster of violets to lay between your tvv'o dishes, so much the better. When you bake an apple for an invalid, don't have it burnt on cne s>de and burst open on the other; prick the skin and bake .t thoroughly and evenly. Don't send your patient back tho same bit of butter with, perhaps, a knife-mark on it, or the same spoonful of jelly in a smeared dish : a {^^^r dishes more or les, to wash are nothing compared to the invalid's comfort. When you hear of a nice nee. sago or tapioca pudding for an invalid write the recipe in some little note-book dedicated to cookery foi the sick, and then using such a book you will be able to keep up a variety in cooking for your patient, and sick people need variety more than well people. Don't keep an invalid waiting long fo, a meal, until they are tired, cross, and past thcT appetite Don't bring up the tea or coffee and forge't the sugar, or furnish the pudding and then go to hunt a spoon, and so have the dish lukewarm when eaten. Consult your patient'., taste.s, anc{ don't forget to .season nicely when you cook. He .so neat that the wary patient will have no suspicions of your cookery. "Once when I was ill." said Helen, "nothing would tempt me to cat. The doctor was quite worried about it; but cat I could =fr' K'. 146 THE COMPLETE HOME. ;/!' r- I not, no matter what was presented. One afternoon Haniiah brought up 'a present from Mrs. Winton." The present was in a napkin of rose-colored damask ; I unpinned the corners, and there was a little fancy basket, and in the basket a French china bowl, with something in it snow-white with little flecks of green, and in the middle of this 'something' a tiny bouquet stood up, madf» of a pale blue hyacinth and a tea-rose ; across the bowl lay a silver fork, so all was ready for me to taste the 'something.' The lovely pink damask, the dainty basket, the fragrant flowers, beguiled me to taste what was in the bowl : it was a delicious salad. After one taste I told Hannah to bring me a slice of bread, and I made my supper at once of the bread and salad ; my appetite was restored from that time." "We must have the recipe for that famous salad," cried Miriam " and put it in our Sick Cookery Books." "It is as good for well folks as for the sick," said Helen; "and you may copy the recipe for that and two other salads out of my Household Book whenever you choose." The young people all agreed that they had lea -^ed a good deal about sick-nursing, and had had a very pleasan /.sit. As I found that the recipes, to which Helen ref rred, would susijiest a fine addition to a tea-table, or to a convalescent's bill of fare, I shall add them to this discussion of nursing. Salad Dressing. — Boil an egg very hard. Mash the yolk and chop fine the white. Put in a bowl the mashed yolk, one teaspoon white sugar, one-half teaspoon salt, one teaspoon mustard, one tablespoon olive oil, two or three tablespoons vinegar, according to size of salad; mi.x well. Stir this dressing well through the salad ; pile the .salad in a mound on a platter , put the chopped egg-white over the top; set a wreath of celery leaves around the edge of the dish ; make a small bouquet of any flowers or green things for the centre. For a tea-party in sprm a -•vy violet Wrcatli for the edge and a violet cluster in thr t...treii tali S/C/CA^ESS IN THE HOME. j^^ an improvement ; in the fall, little plum tomatoes cut in halves anJa,d on the leaves at the edge is a fine addition to the dish. The Salad.--V..\ or scrape six large Irish potatoes. Soak ■ n sa t water ror an hour or so ; boil until barely done ; let them Rc cold. Chop these potatoes fine; chop several stems of celery; a l.ttle parsley; a circle of onion and a circle of pepoer- pod n,ay be added if desired ; with or without the celery, bLd.ed urn.p-tops chopped fine; mix the potatoes and chopped salad. so half a small head of fine-chopped lettuce; stir well into th.s the above dressing, and serve as directed. The chopped potatoes alone thus dressed make a good salad, when other matenaLs are not procurable; or use one-half chopped potatoes and onehalfchopped roast beef. .^f ^"^'f /f ^-Chop beef or mutton very fine. Mix with above salad dressing. Cut and butter thin rounds of bread- spread evenly on these the dressed meat; lay on each a thin' round of lemon, and a leaf of parsley under the edge of the slice of lemon. Put these meat slices on a platter, and lay a small bouquet m the centre-a delightful and beautiful tea-dish In cooking for the sick take particular care not to scorch or smoke the food ; avoid all greasiness. and never /.;, an invalid's ood Meat for a sick person should be broiled or steamed Ue hear many complaints of tough meat, but there is scarcely an>' beef-roast so obdurate as not to prove tender, and well flavored, if roasted as follows : Take a stone pot. a round pot of the .same size in its whole K.ght. and without a neck, the top being entirely open: it must ^-^ low enough to stand in the oven. Rinse the n.eat. remove ■u^y very large bones, and gash a little with a sharp knife: put tl.e meat nUo the pot-if closely crow.led. it is all the b.Mcr- ■Tnnkle ,t well with salt, pepper, and a little ground cloves' l)our over i«- ^ —- "<• - - - »"vv.3, cup of catsup, tomato c.-.tsi,p being the best- ; J. i on a close lid; if the pot has no lid. lay a pic-pl itc put upon it 148 THE COMrLETE HOME. and put a brick on the plate to hold it down firmly. Allow no water in the pot, and no e.cape of steam while the roaiting pro- urcsses. Mavc an oven as for bread, and roast four or fivr hours, according to the si;'.o of the piece of meat. Meut thus cooked will be exceedingly tender and juicy: none of its flavor will have escaped, and it is cqtndly good usod hot or cold, while for making sandwiches it is unrivalled. That it may be of a handsome shape when served, it is well, bcTore nutting it -'n the pot to roast, to coil it into a round, and tie it with a piece ot tape. I wrote li ose recipes in !v?iriam's Household Book; as I was returning it to its slic'f, a bit of paper fell out. It was written by her tioctor. ,->n'] Miriam said she had forgotten to copy it, and musi; do so at once. As she was nursing one of her chil- dren, 1 copied it for her. The paper was upon that .;reat trial of many: Sleeplessness. Thus: If you are troubled by Sleepless- ness, do not set yourself to counting, composing, or ret 'ting; as a general thing, this will excite the brain to an activity which will defy sleep; to attain sleep, the mind should be restful. The cause of Sleeplessness is usually an excited state of the nerves ; a -simple method of calming these is to bathe the head, neck and arms in cold water, and rub briskly with a towel, imme- diately before retiring ; this secures action to the skin, and aids materially in producing a calm, sleepy feeling. Nervous excite- ment, producing wakefulness, is often a product of indigestion; a remedy for this is: wring out a towel from cold water, fold it, lay it upon the stomach, and fold a dry towel, or a large piece of flannel, over it, cross the arms lightly over it, and soon a delight ful warmth and glow will .send you off to sleep. Another method of persuading rest when wakeful is: to rise, rub the arn.s, chest and feet briskly with a coarse towel or a flesh-brubl more effectual fashion, esnecially on warm nights, would ' ■ o bathe the arms and soa: ■ 1;? wrists in cold water. A '^ towel, of IJI SICA'NESS IN THE HOME. 149 a handkerchief, may be wrung out of cold water, and wrapped on the left wrist, and covered with a dry towel : the fdst and feverish pulse soon calms, and sleep succeeds. These are all simple, easy suggestions, and I made a note of them for my own use ; although having a well-aired room, no light, a mattress and not feathers to sleep on, keeping regular hours, taking sufficient exercise, and eating a light supper, I am not often troubled by wakefulness. A habit of wakefulness is very disastrous, and we should use every effort to guard against it; if we find ourselves wakeful at night, we should seek after the cause, ^.~xd strive to avoid repeating it, not only for comfort's sake, but ici the sake of the souaaiicss of our minds, the vigor of our bodies, and the efficiency of our work during the day. Sleep is one of the good gifts of God :" " So he giveth his beloved sleep. So he giveth his beloved in sleep. 1,1 i 'M I MP!::. IH i 1 1'; •- 1 1 : ' 1 M L^ CHAPTER VI. THE BEAUTY OF THE HOME. AUKT SOPHRONIA TELUS HOW TO MAKE HOME ATTRACT, VE. REMEMBER telling my niece Miriam before he^- mar- riage, that good housekeeping builds up the wrlls of Home. In the building of houses I have observed that once the walls are up, some sort of finish is put upon them : they are painted, papered, calcimined or white-wpsned. Then, in furnishing a house, people generally place picmres, ornaments or brackets upon the walls. So I think that if good housekeeping builds up the walls of Home, good taste, a thing closely allied to good housekeeping, gives them the finishing touch and makes the Home beautiful. In my opinion the Beauty of the Home is a very important matter. There are a few people who pass it by as " nonsense," say they " have no time for it," and that they must " spend their efforts on what has a cash value ; " being narrow-minded, or near-sighted, they do not perceive that Beauty in a home has a very decided cash value. I say this, first, because if we cultivate Beauty in the Home, we produce there greater care and better and more cheerful spirits, consequently better health, and therefore less outlay for sick- ness, besides having more effective working-force. Again, a Home, in village or country, where Beauty is created, possesses ii higher market value. A Home where an outlay of care, a little^'labor and forethought has created beauty in the shape of smooth hard walks, neat sodding near the house, a Howcr garden, sliade trees, rows of fruit trees, grapes, Howering (150) THE BEAUTY OF THE HOME. 151 vines, a post or two draped in roses and honeysuckles, with a bird-house a-top, a little arbor or summer house— these things, created in summer evenings after working hours, in winter leisure time, in early mornings, noon-rests, or on holidays, lend an air of refinement to the whole establishment, directly and indirectly tend toward the good order of the whole, give it a higher market value and would secure a purchaser more quickly if it were for sale. In another regard the culture of Beauty in a Home is of immense value. A growing family will be much more likely to remain cheerfully in a Beautiful Home, even if that beauty is extremely simple and inexpensive. A flimily who are home-keepers arc an inexpensive family. Sons and daughters do not waste their money at home : they are tempted into rash outlays when they are in the company of strangers, hanging about public places and striving to vie with those who have either no need of saving, or no honest desire to do so. I hear so much complaint that farmers' sons and daughters do not want to stay at home— they " hate the farm "—want other business ; the girls had rather be mantua-makers or store- clerks, than be at home helping their mothers, making butter, and raising fruits and vegetables; the sons want to try their fortunes in the city; the parents fmd themselves, when their children are old enough to be efficient help, left to hired ser- vants, who have little care to aid them in making and saving money, who arc no company indoors, and, meanwhile, the parental heart is burdened with fears and anxieties for the absent children, and possibly the parental purse is burdened with their business failures. I was at tea at Mrs. Winton's the other day, with Mr. and Mrs. Burr and «:ome others, and Mr. VVinton said: "We shall have constantly r^ .urring 'panics' and 'crashes' and 'hard times' u, i our poop .- learn that the tilling of the soil is the true source of weakh; that golden corn above the m\ i 152 Tur. coyrLETE home. ground is really of more value to the country than the gold in the earth ; tha<^ the soil of our country has abundance for all hei children ; it i. a mother who never for bread offers a stone. When the immigrants who come to us shall be agriculturists; when our emigrants and our moving Eastern copulation seek the West for farms, and not for gold .n saver claims ; when instead of our rural population crowding to the cities in a mad zeal for spec- ulation and hasty fortunes, which, in ninety-nine cases out of an hundred, are fortunes as quickly lost as made; when every acre of land in our farming districts is made to produce to its fullest Cipacity, and not left lying in marsh, or barren, or Gcrub for years, then we shall be a solidly wealthy people— these great financial convulsions and crises which have kept us in a state of fever and excitement will be unknown." " Undoubtedly," said Mr. Burr, " our farming and arable lands are capable of producing a far greater amount than they do at present; diligent cultivation, rotation of crops, and care not to exhaust the land for the sake of a hasty cash return, would bring our crops up to a value thus far quite unknown :n this country. Consider what a population the small country of Palestine onco supported : over nine millions of people in an extent of less than ten thousand sr^'are mile^— that i , about the size of the State of New Hampsh.;.-. Egypt was me grain-house of the world, besides supporting over twenty thousand towns and villages, ten very great cities, r.'. vvuich one was twenty n.il.s in circumfer- ence. The valley of the Euphrates around Babylon formerly produced two hundred-fold for seed "^ -,vn. I believe if land is well tilled and cropped accorri ng to its nature, there is abso- lutely no limit to its power ..n ' iction. If the population. which is now swarming in r . s and towns, fretting in poverty and idleness, nursing communism and breedii : disease, would pour out as workers into the country-, filling it so that swamps must be drained, and dry wastes irrigated, and hills ter THE BEAUTY OF THE HOME. 1S3 raced for grapes, and that barrens must be cleared off, in behalf of crops of corn, melons and sweet-potatoes, and the woods must be cleared of underbrush, and set to growing large timber- then we should find a reign of plenty, and all our present beggars might be on horseback, at least while they were tilling their fields and driving their mark-et-wacrons " " Instead of that rush to the country," said I, " the rush is away from it; the young folks think they must go to town as soon as they are grown. Every one wonders why and how Cousin Ann's three boys have sf cd on farms." " I think," said Mrs. liurr, " that one reason of that restless liaste to leave the farm is owing to a neglect of making the farm and the farm-house attractive. So many of these homesteads have a lonely, desolate look. No trees, no flowers, a neglect of a little ingenuity in making a pretty porch and fence for the house- front, an over-carefulness which refuses to open the front rooms ■ r the use of the family, a neglect of making the bed-rooms nea^ and pretty— things get a sameness and shabbiness, and ) ung eyes pine for something more attractive." " Ther- that same error, as far as I can see, in villages and towns anu ties," said Mrs. Winton. "A great many people pile all the agreeable things which they have into one or two rooms, which they keep shut up for apocryphal visitors. The family sitting-room and the bed-rooms are bare and forbidding." "And then," rqjlied Mrs. Burr, " the young folks go ... visit their neighbors, or out into the streets, and look at the st<,M-- windows, and so try to compensate themselves ; whether they know what thej- want or not, all youth craves beauty: it is a natural desire." " But what a pity," I said, " that young folks should nut find what they crave in the safety of their own homes ! What an anchorage for good faith and virt.ie is the low of an honest, pu:o home! What a stay to „ child in all his life, the memory i i A ■ ■' K 1 |pr 164 THE COMPLETE HOME. of a home beautiful, upright and loving ! and by beautiful I do not mean the bcaut\- which is created by money, in velvet carpets, rosewood furniture, fine ornaments and pictures. Those are all very well when they fall to our lot, but the beauty which I mean can be created anywhere, and out of almost anything, by simple good taste. I think that care to make the Home attractive is the secret of the farming tastes of Cousin Ann's boys. And what a comfort those tastes have been to their parents! Reed and Fred are on farms beside their father's, Dick is with his father, and little Jack is not likely to wish to go away. What anxieties have they all been spared, what tempta- tions, what losses, by these home tastes!" " I was a little boy," said Mr. Burr, "when Reuben and Cousin Ann, as young married people, moved to that farm. I used to think it was the barest-looking place on earth. An old broken- down fence, no paths, no porch, no shade, no garden ; there was the land, the barns and sheds, a straight wooden house, and some field fences. They moved there in the fall. Cousin Reuben, as we all call him now, spent a good deal of that winter in his wood-lot, cutting and hauling wood, for himself and for sale, and on top of his loads we schoolboys saw him bringing home all manner of queer-looking and shaped sticks. The old yard fence was turned into kindling wood. I remember how that place changed, not by money outlay, for they had a mortgage to pay off, but by constant industry and good sense. Cousin Reuben and Ann worked away at that front yard, and around the house, every summer evening for years. Those queer sticks grew in two years into a handsome rustic fence. Reuben built with his own hands a porch, an arbor for grape vines, and a summer house ; in the winter evenings he made bird-houses, and poles for creepers ; Cousin Ann got slips, cuttings and seeds ; to give her a bit of good shrubbery was to give her a treasure, and Reuben carried from the field and wood promising young shade and ornamental trees. Look what a place liicy have now ! " THE BEAUTY OF THE HOME. 155 "Yes, I remember. Cousin Ann told me she meant Iicr children should not grow up in such a desolate place as that was when she found it ; and she thought they would love and value it more, if they helped to create beauty there. She had them from their earliest childhood learn to help keep the placj neat, and make improvements in it. They helped her in th^- vegetable garden ; they planted and weeded flower borders ; no old barrel-hoops rotted on the ground there: they were used for fences to the garden bed, and for frames for vines. The boys nude rustic seats, they learned to turn common things to use, they made brackets and picture-frames. Every one helped to make every one's room pretty, and no part of the house was too good for the family. The parents took a pride in making the house nice, and the children learned an equal pride in keeping it nice. I never saw such children to avoid making a litter, and such care in preserving furniture. They liked to sit in the best room when there was no company; they enjoyed it for themselves; and, boys and girls, they would set to work just before going to bed, or very early in the morning, and sweep, dust and polish it up,' so that the use of it should not increase their mother's work. Why if those boys undertook to go far from home, they would be going from a place which they had made, from what was a pleasant share and part of their own life-work. They learned carpentry on rainy days, out in the barn, making stools and stands, shelves and shutters for their rooms." "Well," said Mr. Winton, "the whole county knows that they are a wonderful set of boys." "They had a wonderful mother, to begin with," said Mrs. Burr. "And every mother may be just as wonderful, who sets her common-sense and energy to work for her family— who trains her children's activity to constructiveness and usefulness, instead of to riot and mischief. What boy will not prize the home which he helped make, which was free to him in all its iTfM 156 rJ/£ COMPLETE HOME. m\ urn .: ip I'll! best things, which gave him his interests and occupied his thoughts ? What boy won't take a pride in making things, when even his first exploit in making a stool — a stool a little shaky in the legs, and a little uneven in height — is cordially received with — ' That is very nice. I have some cloth which will make it a splendid cover; I think I would cut that leg about half an inch shorter, auJ you had better put a nail in here, and one here. Then this evening we will cover it in red and black, and you can have it in your own room.' " "Yes," said Mr. Burr; "the value of that home, of its attrac- tiveness and beauty, has been unspeakable to those boys, but it has also brought its cash return. Even a hired hand could not be careless in a place so beautifully kept, so cheerful, so pretty as that was. The beauty of the house, like the gleam of a lamp, widened out over the whole farm. Where are fences straighter, walls truer, fields smoother, clumps of trees and single fine trees left to better advantage? Where is every bit of rubbish so gathered up and put to use? What increased value per acre has not that farm gained from the beautiful hedges near the front- hedges planted and trimmed by the boys— from the choice shrubbery, from the grapes and small fruits, from the shade before the house, the porches and arbors, twe fine flowers, and that unsurpassed vegetable garden? If Cousin Reuben hinted at selling he'd get a dozen high offers. But he knows too much to put that place in market; he will keep it to make Dick and Jack rich." It is now two years since Hester married. As she said she should do, she cho.se a scholar, a .scientific man, often off on long tours in government service. Hester usually goes with him. They live at John Kocheford's, and John is perfectly satisfied. Hester keeps the house. The phrases "wax-work" and "clock- work," as applied to the nicencss and the running order of that house, do not in my view express its perfection ; somehow she THE BEAUTY OF THE HOME. 157 seems to manage the place even when she is gone. I was sitting with Hester for an hour the very day after this visit at Mrs. Winton's, and I happened to tell her of our conversation about Beauty in a Home. "What you say about good taste creating beautj- from small resources," said Hester, "is quite true. I remember a ca.se in point. Tlierc was at school with me a young girl whose room was one of the mo.st beautifully arranged in the building, though, as she was poor, she had no money to spend on it, and no orna- ments which cost money. A pot of growing ferns, a wreath of pressed fall leaves, a basket made of pine cones, a bracket curi- ously fashioned of lichen-covered sticks, a bouquet of dried gras.ses, burrs and seed pods of autumn flowers, lent a charm to the little plain room. Beauty .seemed to grow under her fingers ; she had such perfect order, such neatness, so many useful con- trivances, that her room served as a model for all the rest. She married a home mi.ssionary. I was at her simple wedding, and helped her pack her trunks. She had very little to take with her for the furnishing of her home, yet I felt certain it would be I.eautiful. I remember that she Irid in one of her boxes a largo bundle of fragments of cloth and worsted stuffs, and that she, •atherto my surpri.se, purchased at an auction some remnants of paper cambric, chintz and coarse Swiss muslin; they were very cheap, but I wondered why she chose them. I ,ast summer, when I went with my hu.sband to the Rocky Mountains, wu passed within ten miles of my friend's Western home, and I took a day to drive over to see her, being also the br.rer of some gifts from her schoolmates. The house was an unpainted wooden building, and only one floor had a carpet; but, as I expected, the little ph.ce breathed good taste, and was beautiful. She had trained vines over doorway and windows: the chintz whtcn I had despised m.ide ruffled lambrequins for the window... She laughingly said she had furnished Iier h( use with dry goods HjiiMti 158 THE COMPLETE HOME. r boxes. Sure enough, two such boxes covered with chintz made a pair of pretty divans; the bed-rooms liad dainty toilette tables made of other dry goods boxes, draped in the Swiss muslin over the colored cambric. The bundle of woollen fragments had turned into mats and footstool covers; she had converted a bar- rel into a sewing-chair, and another into a work-table. In truth, the little four-roomed house was the tasteful home of a lady, and the little shed kitchen in the rear was so clean, so handily arranged, that she need never blush to invi*-n any one into it. I never realized so completely the creative power of good taste. Her husband had put a pine board for a mantel in their sitting- room, but she had hidden this and a bracket to match with a cover of oriental work, which was really elegant, and on these she had placed the vases and other souvenirs which her school- mates gave her at parting, and with the fresh wild flowers in the vases, they lent the room t'- '■'•rm of elegance. I well knew where she got tivic f'^'- :''»ag uji ih ngs : she is one of those who rest by change of work, r mvc the moments that other people waste." This subject of Beauty in the Home became a favorite theme of mine, and it happened that we had it pretty thoroughly discussed once, whdii Helen, Miriam, Cousin Ann, her daughter Sarah, and myself, were invited to take tea with Hester. It was in the autumn, and He.stcr had spent the preceding day with Cousin Ann, and with Sarah had been .searching " wintcf ornaments." " Did you get holly, juniper and bryony-vinc ? " asked Miriam. " No," said Sarah : " we always leave those for Christmas, but we got grasses of various kinds, and silk-weed pods, and .sticks covered with lichens, and branches of pine-cones ; if one ha;i a (juick eye in selecting, you can gather in fall fadeless winter bouquets which are as beautiful as summer bouquets. I got a lartrc round of thick green mos<«, and some squawberry-vinos mingled with it, and a delicate little fern to plant right in tl.c 1). THE BEAUTY OF THE HOME. 159 centre; with a pine-burr and a couple of striped snail-shells it has made a lovely ornament for the middle of our dining- table." "For my part," said Cousin Ann, "my meals always taste better for a bouquet, or a moss-plate, or a pot of fern in the middle of the table. In summer we use fresh flowers. It does not take long to gather a few and put them in a little vase or glass, and it cheers the whole family up to see them. The men come in hot and tired, and the very look of a pretty table com- forts them; father and the boys often say just to see the pot of flowers and the shining white cloth is better than a meal in some houses." "Reed's wife," said Sarah, "got that idea from mother, and she has made a pretty centre-piece for her table— just a common red earthen flower-pot, a five-cent one, with a thrifty fern in it, and a round of moss filling the top of the pot around the fern stem; then on each side of the pot she put a picture, and the pot stands in a saucer, so that it will not soil the table; the pictures on the pot were two pretty ones from a fruit-can, and when thc;^ were varnished, you have no idea how nicely the thing looked." "I iried a bouquet for my tea-table, but it got upset so often, between the children and the servants, that I gave it up," remarked Helen. "Manage it as I do, then, Helen." said Hester; "our gas- fixture is just over the centre of the table, and I made a net of crystal beads, the net just held a goblet which had been broken from the stem ; that goblet I fill with water and keep my flowers ami vines in that. They set off the table as well as if they stood on it." " I'm glad you mentioned that," said Mary Watkins, " for though we have no gas we have a h.ino-incT li.rl.f . ,,,„ i.i,......,,j put a hook in the ceiling and hung a lamp by little chains, for W i ' '■ nsl % 'lil ■Jf., ■■i 160 THE COMPLETE HOME. H I rl ' *■: i fear Nettie might pull a table lamp over. I shall tie a little willow basket with a dish in it to that, and have a vine in it; I have wanted something of the kind, only I could not keep it out of Nettie's reach. I do love to see a nice, tasteful table for meals." "Well," said Cousin Ann, "if you'll take care to have a clean, well-ironed cloth, and a bit of something bright for a centre- piece, and lay the dishes neatly, and have the forks and knives bright, you will find that such a table is a great sweetener of the family temper; it makes a very homely meal seem like a feast, and children can hardly show ill manners before what is so refining. Don't forget: these little things tell on the children." "The table-cloths are a deal of trouble," said Mary: "they get rumpled so very soon." "It pays in washing and ironing, in soap and time, to put a little starch in them," said Cousin Ann; "iron them in small folds, and press them hard; turn the folds back and forth like the leaves of a book, not over and over, like wrapping a bundle. As soon as the cloth is shaken, or brushed off with a clean wing or a table-brush, fold it in the original folds, lay it in a dr.Wr, or keep a pasteboard box of the right size for the cloth alone, and on top of the cloth lay a stone of exactly the same si7.e. or a slab of marble ; if you can't get either, have a little board with a brick on it ; there's always some way to get along if one is bent on getting along. Take first-rate care of the table-cloth ; a tidy cloth is half the meal, to my mind." "And there's the little matter of trimming dishes," said Miriam; "some plain dish, or something cooked over, looks and tastes so nicely with a little trimming. I never saw such a per- son as Mrs. Winton for that. If she boils a ham or a leg of mutton, .she trims the bone end with a ruffle of white paper cut in narrow r^trips nnd curled on tho scissors; Mie pepper is put on in round .spots, and cither cloves or parslcy-lcavcs arc stuck io THE BEAUTY OF THE HOME. jgj here and there; the thing becomes beautiful. She has -a plate of cold shced meat, and around the edge of the dish is a wreath of parsley or celery-leaves, and a few slices of lemon are laid on the meat. Docs she have a dish of stewed meat, a wall of mashed-potato surrounds the platter, the stew goes inside and the whole is trimmed with diamond-shaped bits of carrot' and beet; .f she has for dinner a plate of codfish and potatoes mashed together, they are piled in a mound, furrowed, and garnished with green leaves and slices of hard-boiled ec--. Hard-boiled eggs get to her table in a bed of green leaves^" and a plate of sandwiches is topped with a bouquet; she makes' beauty and poetry out of everything." " Yes," remarked Co-.sin Ann, " there is no truer economy than a httle good taste; you can afford to economize if you can make your cooked-over dishes look handsomer than most people s first-hand dishes." "Some people think," I suggested, "that they cannot set a handsome table unless they are rich enough for French china plenty of s.lver and the finest damask, but some of the best-look, .ng tables I ever sat it, cost very little money. Id know our |".n,ster-s table anywhere . saw it. by some pretty little napkins h.s v..^. l,as ; they are laid over the bread, over the cake, over a plate of .sandwiches or buns, and they are the d untie.st little thuigs! She cuts a yard of birds-eye linen into eight even P.cces, fringes out each piece half an inch deep, overstitche. venly with red working-cotton to keep it from ravellmg further .md then coral-stitches a border, or works a .sheaf of uhoat ^ ner own ...i:,a! in the centre with red cotton : she says t!>->v la^ for years, and they set off her table wonderfully She is fond of a centre-piece for her table, and .she has a dwarf fern growing i« a large conch shell : it is a ve>y charming thing." ''Ail the ornamenting that I liave tried." said Mary ■' i, to hHve parlor-ivy and son,e other little vines growing in bottles of f ^m ]■ . 'aU :-i\. i* ' • i Vi B >iiiil iH HfeWU .f ^B ^^^^^^■^■^B i^ij^Bj ^^^^^^H !|i|^| ^^^^1 .|i^H ^BiR^I ,'% IHH ^B •' - fl m ^^M ^K '*" 9 '»' 1 ^^^H ^^^E. '91 ^■tt||d| ^n^BflnBBnHH 1 • ,t 1 162 7 HE CO Mr I. RTF. HOME. water behind my glasses and pictures, and they succeed very well : I must accomplish something further." " Many people," I remarked, " seem to think that we can secure beauty only by profuse money outlay— that beauty is in the ratio of expense. On the contrarj', beauty is largely independent of expense. The least handsome parlor that I ever saw was a very expensive one— not a book or engraving to be seen. Staring, ill-painted family portraits, which had cost a good price, deformed the walls. It was early summer, and the garden had plenty of flowers, but not one was in the parlor ; instead, silver vases of wax monstrosities and porcelain baskets of wax fruit; a gaudy assertion of superabundant dollars and dt-ficient good taste was the characteristic of the room. Natural objects confer more beauty on a room than artificial ones: shells, flowers, vines are far superior for ornament to china figures and card-board work ; indeed, I consider work on card-board the least beautiful of any kind of ornament, and I would it were banished, for it consumes much time, and is very dangerous to the eyesight If one knows how to blend and contrast colors, has the good taste not to banish books from a room, can train a vine of ivy, make a moss plate, and pile up artistically a handful of shells, or make a rose-lipped conch the receptacle of a cluster of prim- roses, violets or hyacinths, they will have beauty in their rooms." V I am glad." said Mar)% " that to procure beauty I am not to be otiiged to make much fancy work, for with my house- work and sewing, I have little time, and my eyes are not very strong." " We seem," said Hester, " to be talking about beauty, and not about eyes ; but what advantage is beauty unless we have eyes? So perhaps I shall not interrupt our discourse, if I sug- gest to Mary how to care for her eyes. First, don't read or work lying daivn: it strains the eyes by using them at an unnat- ural angle ; don't use them on print or work so fine as to make THE BEAUTY OF THE HOME. jgg ^hcm feci strained in the use. When they burn, smart or seem dm, rest them, if it is only for five minutes, by looking at other thmgs or closing them, and by bathing them in cold water Always bathe them freely in ..A/ water, never in hot or warm water; don't sleep, sit or work with the light falling full on your eyes: let .t fall over your shoulder upon the book or work • have your sleeping-room dark, no lamp-light; and grand final' mstrucfon. just before going to bed, bathe your eyes, behind your can, the back of your neck and the top of your head, with cold water, plentifully, and do the same the first thing in the ' morning; thus you reach and strengthen the nerves communi- catmg with the eye, and you will be almost sure, by observing, these rules, to preserve your eyesight, and to strengthen it if Tt IS feeble." "I have heard,- said Helen, "that it is very good to bathe the eyes m cold tea." " If you use black tea, then, as you are sure there is no poisonous color in it. if you use it cold, the tea being cold and a gentle astringent may be beneficial; but I never like to try on my eyes anything but cold water, and plenty of it " "The cold water bathing night and morning." I said "if accompanied by a hearty rubbing with a coarse towel, is not only good for the eyes, b-t is almost a sure preventive of colds _ m the head, influenza and catarrh. A person who uses thus water, of the temperature of the air, summer and winter, is little l.kcly to take cold. I have even recommended this remedy to those who seemed suffering with a chronic cold, or a close succession of bad colds, and they found the cold cured and no others followed it. The heads and throats of children should be thus bathed, and well rubbed, night and morning, to prevent -re throat, croup and kindred troubles. Nothin. i. .nor^ inc/fcctual for these disorders than housing up children. Let them be used to cold water, well wrapped, and then let them \*A\ I. 164 THE COMPLETE HOME. 1 H 1 11 HI 1 1 \ 1 1 ii 1 '" m t II At the tea-table we resumed our conversation on Beauty in the Home : a theme from which we had drifted to questions of health. Hester made some remarks which I hked very much. She said ; " The pursuit of Beauty is not to be esteemed a whim belong- in" to a delicate rather than a strong brain. It is not a conde- scension of the intellect, not the by-play of vigor, not a tnfle on the surface of things-it is in man's mind a reflection cast by the mind of the Creator, who made man in his own .mage. •Hugh Miller, in his ' Schools and Schoolmasters,' suggests that, wherever man pursues either utility or beauty, he takes a path where God has gone before him; and (iven in so small a matter as painting the panels of a coach, he will find that he has followed ' nature's geometric signs,' and combined the hues and contrasted the colors, as God, in bird, or flower, or msect. painted them long before." We all concluded that we could not do better than follow m the footsteps of such lofty authority, and cultivate Beauty as heartily as possible. In considering the subject of Beauty in the Home, several points have struck me. First, there can be no real beauty with, out neatness and order. A stand of plants in fine bloom may be an object of beauty in a room, but it cannot create beauty over a dirty or ragged carpet. Good engravings are also con- ducive to beauty; but if the husband hangs good pictures on the walls, and the wife litters the whole room with the threads and scraps from her sewing machine, the pleasing is lost to the eye in the unpleasing. Parents should make their children full sharers in the best things of Home ; but at the same time the children .should be taught to prize and maintain the beauty of thcM- home. Their sports and manufactures, which are rough, noisy and productive of dirt, should be kept in some place apart, and they .should be encouraged to bring their books, their THE BEAUT y OF THE HOME. 1G5 *lean, quiet games, their drawing, where their parents and elder friends are; thus family companionship will be secured, without provoking that untidiness which is incompatible with beauty. Second. I should say that true beauty does not belong to things showy and insubstantial. Some people get cheap, showy furniture and carpets, thinking that as it is cheap they can afford more of it; while the truth is that the more of it the worse it looks, and that a few good things are far better than a good many poor ones. When we must get cheap things because we have but little money, then let them be very plain : for nothing is uglier than cheap gilding. If we have plain things which do not cost much, then the value has been put into the material and making, and they are likely to last a long time without failing in appearance ; while if the things are showy and cheap, the money has gone for paint and gilding, which will soon tarnish and crack off, the wood will warp, the glue prove treacherous, and our possessions will be a wreck. A look of substantial comfort and rest, welcomes you to a room, and gives the impression of beauty. When you give up the idea of costliness and fine display, take comfort for your aim. The little money which would buy cheap shades, a varnished table, a narrow, stiff little hair-cloth sofa, will pay ten times as well in use and beauty, invested in good chintz for a lounge and chair-cushions, and for lambrequins to the windows, and a good cloth for a common table ; or have your curtains of white or pale-hued lawn, and buy lady's cloth for your table-cover, and embroider the edge in oriental work of some kind. Speaking of furniture, children should not bo allowed to treat it with disrespect; they will be just as happy in proudly helping to take, care of it, as in destroying it. There is not beauty in a room where children have daubed the floor and table-cover with paste and ink; where they have stood on ihc chair-seats and sofas or lounges, until the covers are rent or ^dcd; where they i i ^ f! 166 THE COMPLETE HOME. have "kicked the chair-rungs, and table-legs, and base-boards until they are all dents and scratches. Let them learn not to stand on upholstery. If they must paint or paste in these rooms, it is small trouble to teach them to spread a large newspaper over the table-cover or carpet, where they are at work ; let them have their own chairs and stools fit for their size, and then the tired little legs dangling in mid-air will not be tempted to grind varnish from adjacent furniture. Third. In pursuit of beauty and ornament, don't crowd : nothing is more beautiful than breathing room and space to turn around safely. Walls covered w'x'Ca. frames, brackets, autumn leaves and the like, look patchy : we must not try to turn our homes into museums or picture galleries; disgust accompanies surfeit of the eye as well as of the stomach, and there is an old story that " *; njgh is as good as a feast," may-be better in its results. Fourth '/' hen we seek Beauty for our Home, let us remem- ber that e.'cvy luiman soul has to some degree a capacity for beauty ; that what is the choice life of our own Home, flourishes well in other Homes. If we love beauty for itself, we shall desire to disseminate it wherever we go — to widen its refining reign in the world. We shall consider first, that Beauty in our own homes is not to be confined to our own parlor or bed-room, or to our children's and guests' rooms; our servants should be made sharers in it. The kitchen, because it is a kitchen, is not beyond the influence of Beauty: when we reflect how really beautiful some farm kitchens are, we may conclude that village and town kitchens may be made beautiful in their degree, even though they do not open on clover fields in bloom.on sweet, old- fashioned gardens, where hollyhocks tower over currant bushes, and hop vines wave tasselled banners in the breeze. Then there are our servants' rooms: how ofl:en have I heard mistresses complain that the maids kept their room so untidy! Did t>"fl THE BEAUTY OF THE HOME. 167 mistress try to beautify it? Did she encourage the maid to k.ep it nicely ? The bed is left unmade ? Well, were the bed-clothes whole and clean, with a decent outside spread, or were they worn-out rubbish, too bad for any others of the family to use? Was there a little curtain to the window, a bit of carpet by the bed, a stand neatly covered for lamp, Bible, bo.u or any of the girl's little treasures ? Were there liooks for ,othes, and was there any attempt to ornament the walls ? Would the Home have been poorer for a cture or two, a comb-basket, and a wall- pocket ? If we cultivate Beauty in our Homes, let us do it thor- oughly, and let all share in it. Again, if we have any new or good ideas of increasing the Beauty of a Home, let us not be chary of sharing our wisdom with our friends and neighbors; let us be glad to help make other homes beautiful. And when we are visiting the sick and poor, let us remember that somewhere in their hearts, dormant, may-be, or benumbed under many rebuffs, is the love of Beauty,' and let us try and revive it, and shed a little of its light on their paths. It will be to many medicine to mind and body. I recall a case here in point. I had a protegee, a poor humpbacked ^ girl, very weakly, confined to her invalid chair in a little bed- room opening from a larger place occupied by her mother, who took in washing, and her father, who cobbled shoes. She was a nxe girl, and labored painfully at knitting, to help earn her living. I had helped the poor family get these two rooms, which were well sunned and capable of being well aired. Helen had given the invalid a bit of carpet and a white curtain, and Miriam had bestowed on her some bedding; we all helped her get work, and now and then sent her soup, biscuits, a paper, or a book. I left home for six weeks, and requested Hester to look after Mar- garet during my absence. When I went to visit my charge on my return, I found her whole room brighter, her face brighter, and her health better by far; she seemed to have a new inleresi in things. Presently she said : it M «!•(•• ^ #, IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) h // /#4 vJ- /. 1.0 I.I 1 40 IL25 i 1.4 M Z2 2.0 1.6 rnoiugrapmc Sciences Corporation 33 WIST MAIN STRUT WIBSTIK.H.Y. 145S0 (716) 872-4503 '^:^% ^J^ 1-^:^^" ^ S" MP. 5 168 THE COMPLETE HOME. ;l " Do look at my wiiulow— isn't it beautiful? Mrs. Nugent showed mc how to fix all those things one day while I was sick, and now when I feel very badly I have only to look ai those growing things, ami I furjct my troubles ; you see I did the work myself, and it has been so lovely to see the change ! " A glass fruit-jar hung in the centre of the window by a red cord; in this was a sweet pol.ito, filling the jar with white roots, and sending down outside delicate vines. On either side hung by cords a carrot and a turnip turned upside doivn, hollowed into little baskets, and filled with water; they had sent out a fine leafage, and were globes of green. A shallow raisin-box. stood on the window-sill ; it was filled with earth, and heue the sick girl had planted .seeds, and set a bulb and a slip or two, herself, and rejoiced to watch them grow. She had cut common pictures from the papers and pasted them on the bo.\, and it really looked very well. Hester had also given her some bits of silk and merino, and shown her how to make herself a knitting-bag, a pin-cushion, a pair of wall-pockets in which to keep the various little things which she needed, and which had hitherto encum- bered her room. "Don't I look nice!" .she cried, leaning back with a sigh of .satisfaction; "why, I feel almost well, making and enjoying these things: it is flir prettier work than knitting, and Mrs. Nu- gent says if I become handy at it, perhaps she can find some shop where they will take a basket of my work to .sell." I took a lesson from that of the power of beauty, of variety and of new interests, over the sick and poor. But all that is external has its chief value as it affects the internal, and the great value of the cultivation of Ueauty in our Homes is th;it it tends to soften and refine the manners, make the heart innocently busy and happy, and encourage a Love of Home. While this .subject of Heauty in the Home has been especially occupying my mnul. ! have noticed in my vi.sjts to my friends i ■'^.^ -v- r Lir. ■s.,M » -i. W f 1 H S> 1 1 1' % 1 1 ■f ip:".. 1 li 1 Jbm 1 •it: m 1' Sf 1 1 I !■ ill i 111 It ■ i.i < .'t iwii '.%■■ Mrs. Nugcn; I •.. V. iiile I was sicl 1 ' f • look at tho,- ■ " ■'■ , ^..: ^>oe [ di'i ti. ..iic change ! " ' tiie window by .', ■ "'■■ _ with whitr r.i > ■ • Oil ciiiit r -^n!;- ',. '..alcf, Uicy had scid i : \ '. \ shallow raisin-tiox .: ' earth, and hoo:; th>' :. ' aijd a shp or two, /^cv:., . SI:?' h:id ci'*^ "oniinoa pi.Gturi.--j 'Ivloo!:.:' iiittiii;/-;^ ,■•. leci, an' as far as I could in a natural bent, and not m.akc labor a bitterness to them. For instance Fred always took to gardcnin; hile Reed had a natural love of animals, and Dick has always been a terribly active child, with big muscles which wanted to be exercised ; a. boy, who, if he couldn't let off his energy in some honest hard work, would be up to all sorts of mischief, just to get a vent foe his overflowing animal energy. We ought to study children in giving out their work, and while necessity rules often in distrib- uting employment, wc should follow the natural bent, just as far as we can. Well, as I was .saying, I made industry a habit for my children. I taught them to wait on themselves, to clear up litter which they made, to get out ard put by their own toys. You could hardly imagine, Sophronia, how early a young child can be taught to help. I did my own work when Fred, Reed and Sarah were little— that is, most of the time. I taught them, first, not to be troublesome to me, and then to help m^. The little things could bring chips or wood from the \vood-hou.se, stick by .stick, or feed the chickens, or open and shut doors, and so on to larger and larger things. To be sure they made mis- takes, and made more work than they did, in the very effort to help, and at first I should have saved time and toil doing it all myself. But I remembered that I was working for the fiiturc, that I was moulding the children into such men and women as they would be, lliat as I taught them now I should be heli)ed by them after a while : so I kept steadily on teaching them. They > It « ! il I i I r \H I M^ m 178 7'J/£ COMPLETE HOME. got bruises in falls, r.iii splinters into their fingers, burnt their busy little hands ; but those misadventures taught them careful- ness, and through it all they got a fixed habit of being helpful and busy, and of not silting idle when there was work to be done, and other jicople were busy. Of course, you understand me, Sophronia. I don't mean that now Sarah would not sit down, or take a book, or go dress herself, because there were dishes to wash, and the servant was washing them; so long as the girl knows how and has the time, her own work can be left to her ; but Sarah feels that she owes to God the right use of her time, and she would not dare to spend an idle day; she changes work, and rests in the change; she is working wnile she informs her mind, makes her clothes, and takes her part in the homework of all kinds." "You mentioned giving your children a special interest in work, as well as a fixcil habit of doing it," I said. "Yes, 'in all labor there is profit,' says the Scripture, and I wanted my chi!dre\\ practically to learn that. I said Fred naturally loved gardening. I set him at it early. I had him help me in my garden among the vegetables, and I gave him a sunny strip of |}order for iiimself, where he planted vegetables \vhich he sold on his own account — that is, when wc .sent a load of vegetables to market, Fred's lettuces, bunches of onions, or radishes, or beets, or his heads of cabbage were counted in, and he got what 'noney ihey brought. He did not rob us of his help while he raised these things : he got the time by putting industry against idleness. We wore as wel' pleased when ht treated himself to a pair of skates as to a nice book, and he always gave away a portion of his own. Reed, on the other hand, hated gardening ; ho worked in the garden when I bid him, but it was just as easy to .set Reed to tending the fowls, to making chicken-coops, cleaning the hen-house, putting up roosts, feeding fowls, pounding fresh bones for them, or feeding the INDUSTRY IN THE HOME. 179 ealvcs and watering the horses : he did these things well. So he was given his especial hen, his sheep, his calf, and he worked like a hero, to bring them up in the way that they should go; to return him profit, they were fed and housed, and cared for vvith all his might. He learned the care of stock, and you know he has a stock-farm now, and many of his brutes are of his own raising. Sarah early learned to help me in the house, and she had her little share in the butter. She and Fred both gathered and sold garden seeds and sweet herbs to the grocer here in the village, and as she grew older, when by extra industry she hemmed a set of sheets, or made up half-a-dozen pair of pillow- cases, she got her pay for them. Not that any of them learned to claim pay from us: we gave it and they took it as an encou,-. agcmcnt. As we grew better off, Sarah got her allowance, so that she would know how to use money wisely. Dick was allowed to u.^e his energies in wood-chopping, in hauling fuel from the wood-lot, in cleaning walks, in ploughing before and after .school. All the boys were set at helping their father on the farm as the two girls helped mc in-doors. When they pro- posed new plans, as bee-keeping or sorghum-raising, we let them try it, and we always kept them in school and gave them all the books and papers we could. Indeed, Sophronia, I think they have been as happy a set of children as ever lived, and as indus- trious too," " I've no doubt," I replied, " that their happiness rose in a large degree from their industry, which kept them from moping and mischief, and gave them the peaceful consciousness of well- doing, for idleness is miseiy." "Some mothers think," resumed Cousin Aan, "that they can get no help in the house from boys: if they have no daughters they must work on imaidcd. I have seca boys sitting in a kitchen when their mother was bringing fuel, or water, or black- ing a stove, or when their sisters, tired with wasJiing or baking, fi III H 180 THE COMPLETE HOME. •A'crc performing these tasks. The boys had been at work out of doors perhaps, or, out-of-door work being done, they had done nothing; if they hung up their caps and put by their boots it was as much as they thought they could do withm doors. Now I hold that nothing is more really ennobling and improving to a boy than to learn to do little things to help his mother in the house. Where servants are kept, his round of household duties is but a small one, but he should be taught to do all that he can. Why cannot he learn to set chairs in their places? to pick up and fill a spilled work-basket ? to hold and amuse a fretting child? to carry a meal to an invalid? to bathe an aching head? All th-se things will not make him 'a Miss Nancy/ but will tone down his boyish roughness, ameliorate his awkward, ncss, make him thoughtful for others, and so truly manly in using his strength to aid weakness. I taught my boys to sweep and "dust a room; to scour knives; to blacken a stove; to set a table ; I had them so trained that they would have scorned to sit by a stove and see their sister or mother filling the stove with fuel or bringing a bucket of water. I remember once being al a house where the only son was preparing for the ministry; the room became chilly; his worship was reading a paper; he bawled to his sister, who was in the next room getting dinner: «Mag! bring a scuttle of coal for this stove!' I made up my mind that that flimily had not been trained in family indusUy: the industry had been all on one side. Once I went to take a firkin of butter to Mrs. Winton. It was a number of years ago. and however it happened, she had no girl. It was about eight in the morning; little Grace was washing the dishes, and one of her brothers was drying them; the oldest boy had just finished putting the dining-room in order, and I tell you it was in order. Nor was he a bit ashamed of it. He said: 'Cousin Ann, see how well I can do up a room : this is all my work to-day; now if you'll wait until I have polished the breakfast-knives, I'll ride I INDUSl'RY IN THE HOME. 181 as far as school with you;' and Mrs. Winton told mc those two boys got up, made the fire, filled the tea-kettle, and set the breakfast-table, before she and Grace got down to cook break- fast. She said they could make their beds, too." "It didn't hurt them," I said, "for those two Wintons are tlie very first young men in this town." "Hurt them! no," said Cousin Ann: "North Winton will not plead a case less eloquently for having been trained to be useful, and I think the way Robert was brought up to wait on his mother will make him a better doctor. In fact, Sophronia, my rule is, to have a busy household, and give every member a share of work." "I'm glad to get your views," I replied, "for I mean to talk with my young friends about activity and industry in the House- hold. You don't seem afraid of wearing folks out with v/ork, Cousin Ann; how is that?" "I hope you understand me, Sophronia," said Cousin Ann; "I do not look on work as an end in itself, neither as the highest human good, and in the word zvork, as we arc now talking, I include all that is useful to ourselves or others; we are given, as I take it, by the Lord himself, a certain time to live in the world, and a certain amount of good, of adding to the sum of human happiness and worthiness, which we can do in that time. The good done is tlic end, and the work is the means to gain it; we cannot do this good without activity, and, moreover, the Lord has given us enough to do to fill up all our time. Con- sidering all this, I do not think that work or activity is other than man's natural condition, and so it is likely to be a healthful condition. People do get injured by severe work, but if you will look into these cases, you v/ill see that the injury-doing work was not of the Lord's ordering. Persons hurt themselves by t!ie fierce kind of wnrk they do to hurry- up a fortune; to grasp too soon or too much what is going in the way of money. *! I '4 rnll 'Him r til I i i ;i ill" i I I II 182 THE COMPLETE HOME. Other people wear out of the over-work of pride ; they must hava ornaments, fineries, elaborate dress, or furnishings, to out-do their neighbors, and they kill themselves for that. Other people still are working double shares, doing the work which some idle member of their families has left undone; the conscientious and busy one becoming the victim of some sluggard's selfishness: thus the mothers of lazy daughters. Again, I have seen folks who wore themselves out with the strain of fretting, anxiety, repining over their work, grinding their minds to pieces with the irritation of unwillingness or useless worry to do more or better than they reasonably can. Still other victims of work are those who work without any system, and so the labor which would be healthful and moderate becomes a burden, sinking them into insanity or the grave. Most people who are said to die of over- work die of misdirected activity, or of neglect of system in their work. I should say that system is to labor what oil is to ma- chinery: without it all goes heavily and creaking, and wears out speedily. " Bustle, Sophronia, is not industry, as you very well know ; people flutter and bustle about like a hen raising diicks, and then complain that their work has killed them, when it was the fuss that was the killing cause. To go back to where I started : work is from God, and he has told us how to work, so that in working we shall be happy and strong and effective. He says first for each day: ' The night cometh, when no man can work.' He gave the night for sleep, the evening hours for quiet resting of body and mind. When folks toil along in the evenings, after the brutes have gone to rest, somebody is usually to blame: vanity, somebody's selfishness, the avarice of employers who will not give living wages for ten daylight hours' toil ; some check has been offered to God's beneficent plan. So if we don't want to be killed hy work, let us take a fair share of sleep ; and let us rest, or have some very easy restful occupation for evening INDUSTR Y m THE HOME. I8;i At our house we have for evenings more reading than anything else ; the children spend some time on their next day's lessons ; the stocking-darning is evening work, and so, in the season, is fruit-paring. Sometimes, to be sure, when we are making mince- meat or sausages, the work runs into the evening, and so in killing time ; but that is only on distant occasions, and so does no damage. The next rule for resting which the Lord gives is a weekly rule : ' Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Thou shalt do no labor, neither thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger within thy gates.' The New Testament shows that we must on Sabbath 'assemble ourselves together' for worship, give the sick due aid, and bestow needed attention on the brutes, and give ourselves our proper food. Outside of this we are to rest; and I promise you, Sophronia, if this were observed, no elaborate dressing, no big dinners, no visits, no amusements, but a complete, quiet, family resting, the church, the proper books, a nap if one is feeble or weary, and a real rest- day from sun to sun, there would be no breaking down from overwork, no farmers' wives in mad-houses." " But how about the milk, and the butter, and the eggs, Cousin Ann ? " I ventured to ask. "The eggs can be left until Monday morning from Saturday evening. The milking must be done for the sake of the animals ; but if milk that needs churning is churned on Saturday night,, the rest, if the dairy is properly aired, cleaned and shaded, can be left until Monday morning. Don't tell me milk must be churned or carried to the cheese-factory on Sunday ; it Is clear to my mind that if .people were compelled to give to the Lord the price of all the cheese and butter made on His day, they'd find means of keeping the milk over Sunday." " Very true," I said, " but go on with your views about rcstin"." "The Lord gave to the people of Israel several national i!' 1( m THE COMPLETE HOME. holidays each year, requiring old and young, bond and free, to share them joyously. From this example we should set a due value on certain fixed holidays, and not ruthlessly run our work- over them, but observe them with our whole' families, in some such way as shall give the most change to the current of our thoughts and cares. We have New Year's, Washington's Birth- day, Easter, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas. As the reach between Easter and the Fourth, and from that on to Thanksgiving, is pretty long, I should throw, in those spaces, a birthday keeping, a picnic day, a festival of some kind, and these days will be found to strengthen family ties, freshen health and interest in work, and jive a new spring of vitality to all our labors. People who live in this way will not die of overwork, Sophronia." Hester had come in quietly during the conversation. I said to her : " Hester, you are always busy, and yet always fresh and strong. Aside from the care which you take of your health, how do you manage your work so that you shall not complain of over-exhaustion ? " " I find," replied Hester, " that there is great rest in mere ^'hangc of labor. It is not so much, when one is tired, that one deeds to drop everything and lie or sit with folded hands : this is sometimes needful ; but there is true and effective rest in bringing into action an entirely different set of thoughts and of muscles. Thus, one who is tired with sweeping, scrubbing or ironing, can rest thoroughly by bathing face and hands, taking a footstool and a comfortable chair, and taking up some .sewing If I have tired my.self by .several days of writing, or of .study o( languages, or by the pursuit of any one difficult subject, I find that I rest my mind and body by an entire change of work : by taking up some study in natural sciences, by taking a few days for sewmg or social duties, or by doing some work in the house. INDUSTRY IN THE HOME. 185 iVith this in view I arrange that house-cleaning, preserving, or preparing tlie clothing for a change of seasons, shall come after some heavy piece of brain work, when I need the rest of change." " The Lord teaches us that lesson, I think," said Cousin Ann, " in the change of seasons itself This change, four tin.es in a year, necessarily gives us a change in our labors— sowing, hay- ing, harvesting, fruit-picking, fall-ploughing, winter work of repairing utensils and buildings, follow one after the other, and rest us by the change which they afford. In the house this is also true." " The fact is," said Hester, " that more diseases arise from indolence than from overwork : idleness begets vice, and vice fosters disease. One reason why, taken as a whole, city and town girls are feebler than countiy girls is, that they have less to do; they idle about and fix their tastes on luxury and folly and amusements ; their minds and bodies lose all .spring and vigor. Wasting their lives in this wretched way, girls become extrava- gant and expensive in their wants, and weak in muscle, ncr\'es and morals ; young men become foppish, dishonest and intem- perate. Parents, guardians and teachers should wake up to the dangers of this idleness, which hes at the root of much mania, hysteria and crime. This laziness is creating for us in the cities a generation of paupers and hospital patients; the good-hearted, pretty, naturally bright girl becomes the vapid, morbid, chronic invalid. Not an invalid by dispensation of Providence, but the invalid ofher own making; and a hardy and more courageous race will take the place of these pining or vicious beings. I feel awake on this subject because I have studied it carefully lately, while preparing an article upon it for press." " You could not choose a better or more useful theme," said Cousin Ann. " But I declare, Sophronia, it is almost' three o'clock! I often say I must keep away from your house, for no sooner do I get here, than you start me off on some subject « 11 >i % ''^t ' ;-' JFfT I ! 186 THE COMPLETE HOME. which I am interested in, and then, as I have to-day, I spend tht whole morning doing — " " Don't you dare to say ' nothing,' Cousin Ann, for you said yourself, that one was always working well when doing any- thing for the benefit of others, and to-day you have been very greatly benefiting me." Since this day's conversations, I have made myself quite ^ missionary in behalf of Household Industry. The more I think- of the subject the more important does it appear to me. It has been well said that " It is what is saved, not what is made, which constitutes national as well as individual wealth." Every one will allow that labor is a source of wealth; but one does not so quickly see how the individual labors of each member of a family will create that saving, which results in comfortable circumstances, if not in affluence. But look at this a moment: a daughter in a family is brought up in habits of industry and not in idleness ; industry establishes her own health, and her aid keeps her mother from being worked into a fit of sickness, or a state of confirmed ill-health : what a saving is here at once in the mere matters of medicines, nursing and doctor's bills ! In a family of industrious da ghters, skilled in the use of the needle, how much longer do clothes last, than where nobody has energy to repair, or make over, or neatly mend, and clothes fall to pieces to be replaced by new ones ! The delicate taste, the interested, thoughtful industry of the family, knowing each one's needs, will go twice as far as the hired labor of the seam- stress. And here I feel like going off on the word seamstress^ to protest against the starvation-wages paid to seamstresses by the clothing-warehouse owners ; and I would entreat ladies not to try to save, or to escape care by purchasing ready-made dresses and undergarments, every one of which may be at the price of blood — as was to David the water of the well of liethlehem, when he would not drink. No, my dear sisters, iJ INDUSTRY IN THE HOME. 187 you need to hire your clothes made, or if you prefer it, or can afford it, have the seamstress in the house ; there give her a warm, sunny sewing-room ; if she stays at night, give her a nice bed-chamber, give her three good meals a day, and don't require her to sew on in the evening, just because she is on hand, and will do it rather than lose your patronage. Don't grind the faces of the poor, my dear women. Fortune was represented formerly with a %vhcd, and time has a way of bringing its revenges. Who can tell whether you, or your child, or grandchild may be toiling for bread at a needle's point? In families where all arc reasonably and cheerfully busy, there is not felt this passion for driving someone; as Cousin Ann said: "The over-work of the one is usually the satisfaction offered for the laziness of several." A thrifty country lady once told me her method of getting her sewing done for a large fam- ily: she was not very well-to-do, and to save money was a necessity to her. She found in the city a seamstress, who, with hard labor for nine months in the year, barely managed to keep the wolf from the door, while she wore herself out. This woman was engaged by the farmer's wife for the three warm months. The wages were low, but she had first-rate country living, change of air, a fresh, pleasant room, kind society, her evenings and Sabbaths to herself It was a blessed rest, and renewed her strength and courage for the year. She went home laden with gifts of butter, eggs, dried fruit, meat— a stock to help her little housekeeping on for a long while to come. I am glad that Mary Watkins is bringing her little girl up in the same industrious way in which she was herself trained. I was there the other day, and the little thing, seated in her small rocking-chair by her mother's side, was sewing carpet-rags: she is scarcely five ; and this, and a little hemming on coarse towels, is her first essay at sewing. Mary's boy, who is about three and a half, was shelling seed-peas, and I was amused at IT ! ! 1 \ 1 ; 1 ,&i 1 H \ 1 H TUt COMPLETE HOME. Ilavin^j; carefully observed and contrasted homes well furnished witli rculin;.; matter, and homes where literature is unknown, 1 find that intelli;^enco, family affection, thrift, economy, business habits, and joyous home-loving mark the homes with books ; ami bickering, wastefulness, general ignorance and idle pleasure-seeking, characterize the others. A home without books argues at once a lack of educative influences; it reduces its members to find the entertainment and interest, which they 7C'i7/ i)icvit(i!>!\> seek, away from home in silly gossip, frequently resulting in mischief, in games which are often the beginning of quarrelling and cheating, in rudeness and thriftlessness, all far more expensive tlian a large library of books. Such a Home without reading is also shut off from a stream of new and useful information constantly supplied by daily and weekly papers. It is not merely that these papers contain the current affairs of the day, the news of church, and of politics, and foreign affairs, and the market reports — ail valuable, and witliout wliicii a man can hardly be a reasonable citi/.en or a decent manager of his own business — but these papers contain valuable information on subjects of healtli, of firm-work, of fruit-culture, of household- work, cooking, cleaning, the ciro of animals ; any one item of (lea) LITERATURE IN THE HOME. 193 which might prove on occasion worth the year's price of a paper. Cousin Reuben takes a number of newspapers. He remarked to me once, that if he had started on his farm without any knowledge or experience of work, or of arranging In's house so as to keep it in a sound, healthful condition, he might yet by a diligent study of his papers, applying to them his own judgment, have learned how to manage all his affairs in a satisfactory manner. He added: "I've paid out hundreds of dollars in my time for my newspapers, for I am not such a sneak as to try ancf steal my information from the editors. I pay in advance, and if i vc paid a few hundreds out, I've taken a good many hundreds in by the use of them. My boys never had to hang around a store, or a grog-shop, or a bar-room to learn what was-^going on in the world; consequently they never learned to drink grog nor to waste their time. Many is the hint we've got in stock- raising, in fruit and vegetable culture, and many is the poor bargain we've been saved from making, by reading a good, respectable, law-upholding, honest-dealing paper. We took caro as to the quality of our papers. We took our church papers, too, and then we knew what was being done by the church, and where we'd better give when we had a little to spare; and our minister didn't have to talk himself hoarse e.vplaining things which it was our business to know; we enjoyed the sermons more, and felt ourselves .stirred up and more a part of the church for reading all about it ; arid the children had Sunday reading, and did not find the Sabbath a weariness." When I go into Mrs. Winton's of an evening, I usually find the family reading. They have the magazines of the month, the new books on the table. If Mr. Winton and the two sons arc free from business cares in the evenings, there is no wondering what to do: they know where will be a conifortablo room, a good light, quiet, beauty of surroundings, and occupa. tion for the mind ; the family-room is a scene of comfort, of 18 m wmu -i- WW, M 111 ^■^■^1 3^..'* 194 ri/£: COMPLETE HOME. promise. How can these young folks help being honorable and useful ? They are daily filling their minds with things beautiful, true, practical ; they have no waste hours for Satan to fill with mischief, no vacant brains to be provoked to evil deeds. I was at Cousin Ann's son's farm one day, and Reed was walking about with me showing his territories; and, indeed, they were so well kept that they were a treat to see, The cattle all looked like prize cattle. He had names for them all ; and one handsome young heifer he called " I^ooks," and a big sheep " Maga," which he informed me was " short for maga- zines," and a family of black Spanish hens ran to the call of "Papers!" I asked what in the world it all meant. He told me that when he married, his mother gave him a pair of black Spanish fowls, and told him to let their produce keep him in papas. He accordingly called them "papers" for fun, and he found that the eggs and chickens would supply him hand- somely with papers. When the supply exceeded the demand he would lay the surplus up to begin a fund for providing his children with reading. His wife had proposed that the heifer should be dedicated to the cause of a library; .so he, after sub- tracting the cost of the animal's keep, meant to use her pro- duce in buy'ng books. Tlic sheep had been a pet lamb given to his wife by her sister, and .she, having paid her board, secured them a magazine or so. " Well, well. Reed ! " I cried ; " that is a pretty sharp idea, and worthy of your mother's son." " Why, Aunt Sophronia," replied Rccd, " we were brought up on books, and we could not live without them. I expect to make a decent fortune here, but I got my first notions of the value and care of stock from books and papers. I noticed all that I found on that theme : it interested me ; I carried oul many suggestions and found them valuable. Wc boys never wanted to run off in the evenings : wc got in hungry and tired; L LITERATURE IN THE HOME .r,, v^'c found all neat, a good meal, a comfortable room, with a .gilt on a table where our books were. We made ourselves t.dy, had our supper, and saw no attraction in village corners or m smoky saloons: for here was room, and company, a good story, a book of travels, books which our parents bought us w,th much self-denial, books which we borrowed, books from the school library, books bought out of our own earnings I remember we boys clubbed our savings one fall, and bought Kanes Arctic Expedition ' for winter reading. We had out our maps; we all read the book, parents and all; we talked of .tat the table; every cold snap made it more vivid to us- we got out our geographies; we borrowed all we could get on' the subject of the North Seas. What paltry ta^•ern would have tempted us in comparison with those Northern wonders? VVh.chever one knew the n.ost about it was to own the book- but we all knew it so thoroughly that father could not decide' between us, and we gave it to mother for her birthday. But what odds, all that was our mother's was ours ' " "I remember." I .said, "you children never destroyed your books. And what scrap-books you used to make! " " Yes. indeed, we were taught to r,s/>ca a book. Fatlicr told us marvels of times before printing and of costly books We were trained to take care even of our toy books, to hand them down for the happiness of our juniors; and as for the scrap- books, mother thought children ought to grow up with books to take naturally to loving them, so we cut out sheets of old mushn and pasted pictures and letters on them, indestructible books for the babies-why my little year-old has one of them now I Well, that as I consider it is the secret of Cousin Ann's sue cess. She always began at the beginning, and fluthfuily built •'P from that. She always felt that she was training her chil- ron for the A/,,;... and that it did „,ake a deal of difference what mcy did when they were little. m ill ill 196 THE COMPLETE HOME. r-S ■'ji i il 1;! \ku This is emphatically an Age of Books. Children will see a deal of them as they go on in life. If you do not teach them to choose and love good books, they will skim over bad ones just enough to gei poisoned by them. I think children should be taught to love books. First, by always seeing them around them, and by owning them from their earliest years. Second, by being taught to respect them and take good care of them : a little child should not be permitted to destroy books. For very little children, indestructible cloth books, bought or home- made, are the best thing that they can have. Third, they should be taught to love books and use them, by giving them books which they can enjoy— child's books, toy books, so they are pure and genial in matter and manner. We should sympa thizc with the child's love of the impossible, of the marvellous, the amusing. " Fairy Tales," and " Mother Goose," the dear old toy books of " Dame Crumb," and " Mother Hubbard," and "Jack, the Giant-Killcr," and " Red Riding Hood," are a part of the blissful inheritance of childhood. With what tender love does Hugh Miller in his " Schools and Schoolmasters" speak of his first library, kept in a " nine-inch square birch-bark box." Here he had "Aladdin ; or. The Won- derful I^amp," " Sinbad, the Sailor," " Jack and the Bean-Stalk," " Beauty and the Beast." " And by these I passed on, without being conscious of break or line of division, to books on which the learned are content to write commentaries and dis.scrtations, but which I found to be quite as nice children's books as any others." So Dickens adds his testimony in his " Recollections of My Christmas-Tree: " "Jack Beanstalk-how noble, with his .sword of sharpness and his shoes of .swiftness! Little Red Riding Hood comes to me one Christmas-Eve to give me infor> mation of the cruelty and treachery of that dissembling Wolf which ate her Gi^ndmother! She was my first-love. Hush! No»K not Robin Hood, not Valentine, not the Yellow Dwarf: I LITERATURE IN THE HOME. 197 have passed him and all Mother Bunch's wonders without men- tion; but an Eastern King, with glittering scimitar and turban. It is the setting in of the bright 'Arabian Nights.' Oh, now all common things become uncommon and enchanted to me! " Children cannot always be reading what we arc pleased to call useful books. They have their place, but they are a part, and not the whole. And how do we know that these crude and embryonic books do not have their own great ure and fitness, assimilating with the child's crude and embryonic powers? Children should have Sabbath books. The Bible should have its stories pointed out for their reading. Give the young child the Bible : he stumbles on the tenth chapter of Genesis, invaluable to Science ; upon a Psalm which, to the old tried heart, is as water from Bethlehem's Well, or on marvellous Hebrews, or knotty Romans, or the genealogical chapters in Chronicles, and he says in his heart that it is a terribly dull, hard book; and how can you expect him to like it? How can you, indeed? Why did you not give him that marvel tale of Samson, or that .sweet romance of Ruth, or the wonder-book of Jonah on the sea, or the thrilling episodes in the life of Daniel, or the pathetic history of Joseph, or, best of all, the story of a Babe in a manger? He had a right to know what God put there /^r him; to read of the dead girl raised to life, and the young man tilting upon his bier, or the prodigal who came to himself. There is no child who will not hungrily take to " Pilgrims' Progress." Buy a handsome copy, with plenty of pictures of Pilgrim armed, of the giants, of great ApoUyon " straddling quite over the way," of lions, of the four boys, of Captain Greathcart slaying robbers. Keep this glorious book for Sundays, and instead of a fretting after " to-morrow," and a restlessness and riot, the child will wish two Sundays came in a week. So there is the stor>' of the Holy War to captivate the heart o.'i old or young. Plenty of good Sunday reading can and should be i sM, •if » • 't ill ill ifli r III 198 r^E COMPLETE HOME. found; stories of missionary heroism, tales of Huguenot, Cov© nanter and Waldensian, lives well told of the champions of Chris- tendom, of Luther, full of force and fire, of Knox, unknown to fear, of zealous Calvin and tender Melancthon. Plenty is there of attractive and worthy, without being reduced to buy the moral dish-water trash, about good boys who stole apples, oi maidens who wind off yards of moral sentiments, and ena by making a splendid marriage. As the children grow older the toy-books yield to histories, travels, explorations, and the fairy tales of science. Give them books on insects, on birds, on flowers, on shells, and they will learn to keep their eyes open, and compare what they sec with what they read. This reminds me of Helen's little Tom. She sent him to school to keep him out of mischief, and he learned to read. He might possibly have fallen into a ruinous line of dime novels and flash papers, had not Hester made up her mind that Tom had a taste for natural sciences. To her father's private horror, she took Tom home with her for a week, and introduced him to the museum, and then as he wanted a museum, and said his three younger sisters tore up all his things, Hester presented him with a mite of a room behind her laundry, where he was to put up shelves and make a museum. Mr. Nugent took Tom out on some of his long tramps, made in connection with his scientific writing, and Tom astounded his father with a demand for " money to buy books about bugs and things." Frank, glad to have the child interested, gave him the money to lay out under Hester's supervision, and I really believe the youngster's newly acquired fondness for natural science will be the making of him. We all of us save for him any interesting fact or anecdote connected with the theme which he is pursuing, How many boys there are who could be brought off the streets, and out of demoralizing society and vicious reading, by having their minds turned to some subject of interest, having books LI'IERATURR IN THE HOME. 190 suited to some taste which they develop, and finding that their own interests and ideas are worthy of the attention of grown people! This last winter we had in our village a Literary Society, com- (X)scd of young and old from the village and county round. The Wintons, the Burrs, my three nieces, Cousin Ann's two married sons and their wives, Sarah, Mary Watkins and her husband, and others. It was very enjoyable; we read; we talked on subjects started by our reading; we purchased a few volumes in partnership; we took a magazine; we had essays on important themes. One of these was by Hester, on the subject of — WHAT TO READ. Of all the influences about us in the present age, perhaps none is so largely educative as that of reading: the press even distances the pul- pit in its control over the minds of mer ; the paper and the pamplilet go where tlie pastor and preacher cannot find their way. At every street corner, and a dozen times along every block of houses, the written word appears to the eye. The child from its cradle is su;- rounded with some kind of literature. Our education, whether we will or not, goes on with all the growing years, and is in theui cliiclly remitted to ourselves. And we sliall find when all the years are toI4, that nothing has so moulded and fashioned our inner lives — so made us what in the end we shall be — as reading. Read we must and will ; it is the passion of the j^resent age. And here come up certain (piestions: What to read? What not to read? When to read? How to read? "Why, we all know that!" say Thomas and Bertha. Dearly beloved, I doubt it; it is also even to be doubted whether your respected parents have considered it a grand part of their duty to give you careful instruction on these points. "Read, Thomas, or you will be considered a fool," says father. "Bertha, \\\\y do you read such trash?" say.; mother. Or, when Tiiomas and Bertha are fourteen or fifteen, the parents take the matter m hand, and begin to form the young people's taste. Alas ! they have seen and read books now for years, and their taste is pretty wclb formed, or deformed^ already. What to read ? We say nothing now of the Insjiired Book— but answer: Let the first reading he of History ; this hiys in the mind a holid foundation of thinking, judging, and comparing; history belongs TSUI, 1 IM ii mm { ■|i % W 1 II ! 1 ^m\ ii [ fill ••f:J mk '•I J I I »■ I. 200 THE COMPLETE HOME. to the domain of the true, and as truth is fundamental to all that ii good and worthy of possessing, liistory should be read, not merely until the mind is in possession of certain facts, but until it has gained a bent for sound reading. A young child, given histoiic reading from its first acquaintance with books, will always love that reading, and (ieveloj) a literary taste : those wiiosc taste has been vitiated so that they " dislike history," can restore the natural taste for the true by \ faitliful course of twelve months' historic reading. Next after history, j'ou should read Biography. You have read of great events, and mighty world-changes : read now of their actors. Happy the child to whom somewise parent has given "Plutarch's Lives!" Read the lives of heroes, literati, philosophers, jihilan- thropists, those masters of the world, who have made history by tlie out-living of their individualities. And now when you read of the vicissitudes of the world, and of the inhabitants of the world, you need to know much of tiie world itself. Its zones and its productions, its tempests, its harvests, its convulsions, its sterility, have done much to make or mar the fortunes of its children. Read travels. Oh, glorious possibilities ope. 't.i to us in books of travel ! We follow Kane into Northern seas ; wo rush with Irving along the untrodden West ; we plunge with Livingstone into tne heart of Africa ; we march tlirougli grim Kamtschatka ; we luxuriate in fair islands of the Southern Main. China opens to us its immense domain, and its singular promise. India reveals worlds of mystery. Along the sands of Arabia, and in stony deserts, we follow wliere once moved a pillar of cloud and flame. Tell me, are you so jlepraved in taste as not to enjoy travels? Twin to this line of reading stands the literature of exj)lonition. The earth no longer hides her dead cities : Pompeii and Nineveh, Karnak and Babylon, Mycena; and Hcliopolis; Sicily and vSyria and tCtruria give up tlie story of tlic past. Believe me, it is more interest- ing than Mrs. Southworth or the " Ladies' Journal of Fashion !>'' And now, lest all this solid reading make you jjloi-h'ing, and your mental motion cumbersome, sit at the feet of the world's t;arliest and sweetest teachers, the poets. Do not try at first Chaucer, Spenser, or Milton : to understand them well, to take them to your heart, you nnist have read the traditionary lore of Persia and Arabia, and Italy and Greece, the fliiry tales of Saxon lands. Read Tennyson, and Longfellow, and Bryant and Jean Ingelow, and Whittier and Words- ivorth — and — b;it time would fail to tell of Campbell and Colerime histories are written in the interests of superstition, infidelity, or vice. What shall you do? Let us have a few rules for our guidance, that we may not gather poisons, nor flowers and fruit whereof worms have eaten out the heart. Doubtless wc never forget : we may think that we forget, but, as in the palimpsest, the successive writings are only overlaid : they remain and may start into clearness. The mind is a phonograph which shall keep and echo the impressions of the past. Books form in us habits of thought which shall live forever with us. Then if our reading is to terminate on the useless or the dangerous, it will be a thousand pities that we ever learned to read. To begin, then : never read that which, instead of adding to., takei i K 1 111 2 ^ . t t •■ ■ ■: WW, m II II ■ ■ Wm lif iH m T^ '1 1 *fHI il |y if! 11 ff^^ F-'f m m THE COMPLETE HOME. from your mental or spiritual strength. Do not let your reading be a succession of examples in subtraction, but in addition to your inner life. Never read a book that robs you of earnestness, nor of that higli quality of reverence, without wiiich there can be no truly elevated character. Never read anything which in one whit robs you of purity, for it is only the pure in heart who sliall see God, Never read what you arc ashamed to be seen reading ; the instinct to hide is your heart's own sentence of condemnation. But even what is suitable to read at one time is unsuitable at another. Thus you are at school, and you are pursuing daily a certain line of studies. There- fore, my < hildren, when you refresli your minds by reading, you should read in the line of your studies. Let us suppose that you are old enough, and well cultivated enough to read Tiiackeray, or George Elliot, or William Black ; yet if you read these in term time, they fascinate and distract your mind from your scholarly duties. Leave, therefore, these books for vacation, and during the school months read history, travels, biography, science. Let the poetry and the romance go until the holiday. Do not on Sabbath read those secular books that may be lawful on other days. Read on the holy day those works which shall help you in the holy life. Don't beguile yourself, Belinda, with a religious novel, a piece of namby-pamby stuff, which shall not only bring you no nigher heaven on Sunday, but shall unfit you to study logic on Monday. No moral dish-water for you, my children! C-onsider also that the morning finds us with the impressions of the niglit before. So do not let us close with reluctance at midnight on Saturday some entrancing book that we would not read on Sabbath; its image will be projected on our minds during many of the sacred hours, fore- stalling other and higher impressions. Be heedful also never to read vdiat is popularly called "stuff" or poor writing, even though it may have no evil inculcations, or possibly may aim at a certain moral bearing. There is plenty of good writing, standard writing, to be found for the asking, and a production of low literary character weakens the mind. Do not, like " Silas Wegg " ard " Mr. Venus," indulge in " floating your jiowerful minds on tea." Fix it firmly in your brains that the Bible is the m sure of excellence; tliat the Creator of the mind produced a book exactly suited for the nurture of the mind. And, therefore, carefully eschew every work that openly or covertly depreciates tlie Scriptures; whether it cavils at tlic ins'irationSi or th.c statcmcitSi or th.e doctrines of the Bible whcu- «ver /'/ cavils do you condemn and drop it. Some works cry " Hail, LITERATURE IN THE HOME. 205 Master ! " on the first page, give a Judas-kiss on tlie second, and on the third you see the shadow of the Roman officers looming behind. Keep your eyes open to danger; don't be lured on hidden rocks by sirens' songs. The easy faith of youth says : " a book? tlien a good." Not always; it may be, in its " Sunday-best" green, blue or gold, ( garb of light; but look warily : if there is a cloven foot under thi blue, or a tail peeping out behind, drop it. Don't read from curiosity what good people have condemned. Did you say, Thomas, that you had heard the book was not good, but you wanted to read for yourself, and see if it were bad, and how it was bad? This is not a brave judgment trying all things; this is curiosity and a mean love of evil. Better trust these other people who condemn ; tliey were made before you were. I do not know that you are so eager to try if arsenic and vitriol are dangerous, and how tiiey are dangerous. We show our best judgment, my children, by taking some tilings on trust. The world is wide, and we cannot investigate everytiiing ; a cateriiillar on a grape-leaf can investigate the whole of his domain, but the eagle cannot try every field of air. And lastly don't read everything you see, in an insane desire to be called a great reader: be rather a thorough, careful reader. Don't read anything just because you "happened to pick it up," but read what there is a reasonable prospect of finding worth reading. Your Friend, Hester Nugent. At our next meeting of the Literary Society, which at this time was held at Helen'.s, an interesting discussion arose as to when to read. It happened to be started by the Blacks, who had usually been silent members of the band. Mrs. VVinton is sec- retary, and in reading the report of the last meeting she gave a brief resume of Hester's essay. This, when the evening was open for discussions, led to the following appeal to Hester, from the youngest Miss Black: " You have given me," says ndinda, with a little pout, "such an enormous amount of reading to do, and now I should just like to know wlien I am ever to accomplish it. Mf day has only twenty-four hours in it, and half of them are night." " Exactly, my Belinda ; I was on the very point of telling you When to Read." said Hester, smiling. " Make a habit of read ■ i va : ;| Iff -i f r k 206 THE COMPLETE HOME. ing, and read ivhciicva- you ran. Count that day lost when some moments have not been snatched for reading; and you will find this snatching for moments a greater thing than it seems at first sight. After any period of years, if you look back, you will find that much of your most valuable reading has been done at desultory moments, when you might have done nothing at all. Let me be practical : ymi go to call upon a friend ; you find that she will sec you ' in a few minutes.' Don't waste that few min- utes—they may grow to ten— in looking at your gloves or poking your paraso! i:^^ into the carpet, but take a book. All parlors should have books in them, and light enough by at least one window to see to read them. A bookless parlor is a howl- ing wilderness ; books— standard books— are more important in furnishing a parlor than card-baskets, vases and knick-knacks of all sorts. Take uj) a l)ook while you wait, and spend your time in reading. Perhaps your book is a bluc-and-gold Tennyson; and in that waiting .space you have laid up a jewel in memory's treasures. •••I hold It truth with him who sings Til one HwocI liarp of divers tones, Tlmt nirii may rise on stepping stones Oflheir tlcml selves to higher things. " • But who c,nn so forecast the years, Or find ill griff n j-ou back to England's brawling transition age, Bcckefs tomb a real shrme, the journey thither a giant undertaking and beset with real dangers; hear that burly miller drunk and piping- see the pale scholar, with his Lollard faith, peep under the hood of the pretty prioress, a flirt in holy orders; laugh with the coarse vam. good-natured wife of Roth ; behold the Taberd Inn, its sign ' a knight's wrought cloak, its table deal-boards laid on 'trestles Its guest-room the great kitchen, with a fire roaring up the chimn<;7, and the joint roasting before it on the spit. "If you read of Italy, let go your hold on bustling, modern America with its practicalities, and drift away to Tu.scan olive slopes and purple vineyards, hills veiled in a blue haze, silvcr- thrcade-J Arno sliding seaward, and the great, blue Mediterra- nean embracing all. Read with sympathy, and you will read well. If a work is not worth the trouble of studying sympa- thetically its age, its race, its aullu.- and its subject-matter, then It »s not worth the trouble of reading. " Have also a habit of turning over in your mind and review- 3 ' V I I'll i 212 THE COMPLETE HOME. ing your mental treasures. You come upon some striking thought in Macaulay, and you recall how Froude, or Burton, or liancroft, or Motley, illustrated the same thought, or referred to the same period. From what fountain-head did the poet draw this draught of elixir? Take the trouble to compare, to criticise, to generalize; feel when you are reading anything that you are your own steward, and that you will call yourstlf to account some day for these precious things that you are putting in trust. " Don't be discouraged, Helen, if you forget, and if you can- not comprehend, and if you mingle things which do not belong together. If I am not mistaken, you learned to sew by picking out and ' doing over' many a long seam. Oh, that doing over! How vexatious it was ! But it was the parent of all those beautiful dexterously set stitches, which now make you a pattern seamstress. And so, child, go over your reading. Time is not lost if you go over and over again the same thing, if it is a thing worth the going over, and if you are acquiring good mental habits, which shall hereafter make one readinci enou"h." These various suggestions as to how to read were called forth one after another by Helen's inquiries and remarks; but as they furnish, as a whole, a good set of rules for reading in a manner to improve, I have set them solidly together. The more I consider the subject, the more am I struck with the important part which books play in our lives. I was reading lately a work by Hugh Miller, and I was especially impressed by his remark, that he had found among 'his fellow-workmen that few men who knew how to read became criininals or paupers as compared with the men who did not know how to read; while he could recall almost no instance in which a man, who was fond of good reading, became either a rrimin.'-,! or a patiix-r. This is a vcr)- strong testimony to the morally preservative power of reading, and should encourage LITERATURE IN THE HOME. 213 parents to orovide their children liberally with proper, useful and entertaining books, even if to do this they must work harder, or give them plainer clothes. I have long made a practice of choosing books for my holiday and birthday gifts to my little friends. How much they are to be preferred to noisy toys! Their effect upon the child is better, they are more comfortable in the household, and a well-taught child will keep them to add to the happiness of its younger brothers and sisters. The moulding influence of books upon our minds is illus- trated by some remarks of Dr. Guthrie's about the Book of Proverbs. In speaking of education among the Scotch in his childhood, he remarks: "Having learned our letters and some small syllables, we were at once passed into the Book of Proverbs. In olden time this was the universal custom iti all the common schools in Scotland: a custom that should never have been abandoned. That book is without a rival for beginners, containing quite a repertory of monosyllables, and pure Saxon-English undefiled. . . . While learning the Art of Reading ])y the Book of Proverbs, -ive had our minds stored with the highest moral truths, and by r::ge advices applicable to all ages and departments in life; the mind while it was supple received a bent in a direction largely favorable to future well-doing and success. The patience, prudence, forethought and economy which used to characterize Scotchmen— giving occasion to the saying, 'a canny Scot'— by which they were able so often to rise in the world, and distance competitors in the race of life, were, to a large extent, due to their being thus ingrained in youth and cliiidhood with the practical wisdom enshrined in the Book of Proverbs." The high testimony thus given to the permanently moulding and impressing effect of the study of this inspired Book of Proverbs could in a measure be borne to all good books. In I f..' WflrllH II mi 214 TJJ£ COAfPLETE HOME. them we come in contact with good deeds, good men and noble thoughts; we are taught to study understandingly the works of God ; good moves on in them before us to perfect consum- mation, and evil is portrayed in its course to shame, IojA ami sorrow; we learn to choose the good, and eschew the evil. I have heard the morality and thrift of the Icelanders attributed in a large measure to their love of books. Each family owns a few volumes which are read and re-read, and passed from hand to hand. They are a reading people. Their long, cold winters afford almost unbroken time for cu'tivation of their minds, and the result is a simple, studious, laborious, contented people. In travelling in this country, I have noticed that those working- people of our foreign population, especially among miners who are given to books and study, live better, have better houses clothes and position in society, than those who spend their leisure time in gossip or amusements. The VVehh have nearly all of them a taste for reading, and a shelf of booVi "n their own houses. The young people arc trained to read in their leisure hours, and to take part in their yearly Eisteddfodds, or Literary Exhibitions ; and along with this taste for books you find the Welsh miner well dressed, gentlemanly in his manners, pos- sessor of bank-stock, and owner of his Home. I picked up, this morning, a " Life of Seneca," and noted this remark of his, concerning the education of children : " I would prove to you what eager impulses our hide scholars would have toward all that is good, if any one would lead them on." What is a better Leader in a good way than a good book ? The child reads m silence : the eye conveys information to us even more impressively than the car. The child reads his book again and again ; the story or the lesson is upon the page, unchangeable in its form, to be referred to, reasoned upon, until it becomes a part of the mind itself I was conversing the other day with Mrs. Winton on the subject of choosing books for our familiea She remarked : LITERATURE IN THE HOME. 215 " The little Aphis upon a leaf fills itself and grows like that on which it feeds : so tiie mind, especially the young mind, fastens upon its books, and they become part and parcel of itself. Now- a-days man might be described as a ' reading animal.' Our chil- dren are born into a world full of printed matter : sooner or later they are bound to read. If we do not attract the child toward books by giving him those that are interesting, if we do not form his taste for the pure and good in literature, he will, by-and-by, be wheedled by strangers into reading dime novels and flash papers, and what they call in England ' penny dreadfuls.' We must inculcate sound doctrine concerning reading; we must follow up this teaching by watching carefully over our children's reading: it is a subject worthy our diligent investigation. A child's temptations are many and greater than we in our middle- aged assurance realize. Satan is prompt enough to sow evil reading, illustrated with startling pictures, to beguile the mind and corrupt the taste. We must also remember the homely saying that ' an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,' and that a full cup cannot be filled fuller. From our children's first Primers v/e must set ourselves to create in them a sound and healthful taste that Vvould loathe all poisons of the mind. So, before long, as Plato tells us, the child ' praises and rejoices over the good, and receives it into his soul, and becomes also noble and good. He will justly blame and hate the bad now in the days of his youth, even before he is able to know the reason of the thing ; and when reason comes, he will recognize and salute virtue as a friend with whom his education has long made him acquainted.' " Mrs. Burr, who was sitting with us, remarked : "At this day it is easy to provide reading matter of a good kind for our families. Books and magazines are abundant and very cheap. Postage on printed matter is low, and publishers will generally send their books by mail, post-paid. Expressage ■|M 216 THE COMPLETli HOME. is carried in most parts of the country at a reasonable rate; bookstores are established in all our towns and large villages, while the extended publication of subscription-books now brings numbers of our most important and valuable works to every man's door. A very little self-denial in laying up a fund to pur- chase such of these books as will be improving and attractive to the whole family-circle, and useful to each one's especial business, would be the means of furnishing the Home with varied and useful reading, assuring its good taste and refinement, promoting its comfort and its economies, making its older mem, bers at once wise and genial, its juniors intelligent and contented, its servants capable and respectable. A Home without books is like a 'garden without flowers, like a forest without birds or sunshine, like a house without furniture. Out of bookless homes go the majority of the criminals, paupers, vagrants, maniacs and chronic invalids, because the Home well supplied with books has inmates whose leisure is.well occupied, and not idle time for Satan to fill with mischief; their minds are well stored, and not left open to preying fancies to drive them mad, or to evil entice- ments to make them wicked. They are people who know what to do to keep themselves well or to cure themselves when ill ; people who have learned 'how to practise economies to save their money, and activities to earn more of it ; people who have learned, from the records of the wide observation of many intelligent writers, the consequences of things, the results of div-rse courses of conduct, and so do not dash heedlessly on to ruin, but find guide-posts to. point them on dicir way to success in the Books in their Homes." CI -'■r ■m CHAPTER IX. ACCIDKXTS IN THE HOME. AONT SOPimONIA's ViKVVS OF PKKSEXCE OF MIND AND COURAGE N looking over the volumes of my yearly journals, I find frequent mention made of accidents that have occurred ^^ in the neighborhood, and among my acquaintance, and of the way in which these have been met. These accidents arc forever happening, generally as the result of care- lessness or Ignorance, but sometimes owing to circumstances over which no one has control, and f^ „ i.ich no one is to blame There IS no family but may in a ^ .•ur. either as a whole or in one of Its members, be brought into deadly peril. It is then a serious question : are we cultivating in ourselves a frame of mind which shall enable us to meet these mischances and conquer tlicm? This power ov, , accidents which renders us victors in imminent dangers is called Presence of Mind. The phrase is suggestive: it denotes a mind «/ /lome in all its powers-wits which are not off, as people say "wool-gathering," but which are ready to act promptly; a mind which does not greet dan-er as some people wake up, dazed and stupid, and taking a lo'iic. While to know where they are, or what they are about. When a person lacks Pre.sence of Mind, the appearance of danger of need, puts part of their minds to flight. They might but noM have been reasonable beings with all their faculties alert, but on the appearance of trial, reason, courage, hope, skill, and qu-ct ness of thought fly from them, terror takes the reins .,nd drives bkc Phaeton in the chariot of the sun, overturning all things. (217) h- 1 k "'I t" "• Ii 'II a' i-t i: ■ I 218 T//E COMPLETE HOME. Of this excellent quality, Presence of Mind, Dr. John Brown, of Edinburgh, speaks thus : " Men have done sonic signal feat ot presence of mind, and if asked how they did it, they do no« know — they just did it. It was in flict done and then thought of, not thought of and then done : in which case it would never have been done at all. It is one of the highest powers of the mind thus to act. It is done by an acquired instinct." Here it is not intended that in performing feats of Presence of Mind one does not thitik, for these feats arc the product of the most just and logical thinking, which grasps at once an entire situation; but the thinking is done with electric speed, so swiftly that one is unconscious of its process. To act with Presence of Mind in danger, requires in the first place courage, because without that, fear will paralyze our thinking and acting ; there must be no parleying with fear. In the next place a soundly trained reason is required ; we must have accustomed ourselves to act logically and with foresight ; hope, faith, and .self-forgetfulness are also ele- ments in Presence of Mind ; in fact all that is good in the mind seems to be present and in active operation, and all that is evil is held in abeyance. These good powers act so instantaneously and so perfectly that they seem rather the exhibition, for the instant, of an unerring instinct; but, as Dr. Brown says, it is an " acquired instinct:" the product of mental training, of rigid self- control, of a proper cultivation of our powers. Now it is true that some people seem gifted with more natural Presence of Mind than others; that is, those high faculties which makeup presence of mind are in them naturally of more active operation ; thus they have naturally more courage and greater calmness, and less fear and excitement ; they are more reasonable and less emotional. But because a person does not originally possess a good degree of Presence of Mind is no reason why he should not acquire it. People do not argue that because they were bc:rn poor they must al ays be poor; but rather, that, not havi-xy ACCIDENTS IN THE I/OAIE. 210 inherited a fortune, they must with more industry set to work to earn one. Every one should face the fact that he is morally bound to have, and exhibit when needed, Presence of Aiuid, because it may often happen that on the possession by him of this quality, the life, or limb, or fortune of himself or hia neighbor may depend. A person of a responsible age, who sees that he is wanting in a quality so valuable, should take shame for the want, and then resolve to possess what he lacks; then by cultivating courage, self-control and reasonable thought, by resolutely repressing in emergencies, great or small, all excite- ment and frenzy, he will become capable of acting wisely in any difficulty. I find a very false notion abroad, that, of course, men should have presence of mind, and that without it they are cowards and fit subjects of ridicule; but that it is vastly pretty for young ladies to fall into a faint or a spasm of hysterics, or a state of insane terror as soon as an occasion arises which demands a reason, able exercise of their faculties. Young ladies make a virtue of screaming at a spider; "having a chill at seeing a toad;" going frantic at the sight of a wound, or of blood; boasting" how frightened they were at some trifle, and as soon as there is some great emergency, when they should act, they become helpless. Mothers should feel it a very important part of the training of their children to make them calm and reasonable in emer- gencies, and helpful in accidents ; even young children can show great presence of mind, and if this quality is to be seated firmly in the nnnd, it should be cultivated from childhood. I remem. aer when Mrs. likick's two youngest children were quite small I called there, and it happened that a beetle was discovered crawling on Belindas apron; Mrs. lilack .screamed and made ■ ncrr.Ttual dashes at "the horrid bug," and rnlinda howled iika a Comanche. I put the beetle out of the window. m wmA* 220 r//£ COMPLETE HOME. "Dear Belinda is so sensitive," said Mrs. Black, proceeding to pet her daughter ; " she is frantic at sight of a bug." "I should prefer," I said, "to have her sensible, if sensitiveness is to develop in that style. Is Tom also afraid of bugs?" "Why, no : he's a doy," said Mrs. Black. "But I cannot see if a bug is dangerous that it should show any respect to his sc.\; if it is poisonous, it would poison him." "Oh, it isn't poisonous, but— it looks so," said Mrs. Black. "Well, has not Tom as good ^an eye (or looks as his sister? If the bug IS such a gorgon's head as to throw all beholders into spasms, Tom should succumb, as well as Belinda. E.xcusc me, Mrs. Black, I think the trouble is just here, that Belinda has found out that you expect her to shriek at a ' bug,' and that you regard it a genteel and praiseworthy act in her, quite becoming an embryo lady; but Tom knows his boy-mates would laugh at him soundly for such folly, and so shows common-sense. As to the bug, it is not ugly at all : a beetle is beautiful." I saw the beetle crawling on die window-ledge and took it in. "See this shell; the wing-covering is polished more highly than the finest rosewood, and is of the exact ; if it became a daintily-dressed little lady to howl at cac^ipuiars. Miss Belinda meant to howl thoroughly; she kicked and shrieked, and was carried out of the church purple in the face, and her mother was too much overcome by excitement and mortification to return to the wedding part)', while the whole town was full of condemnations of "that dreadful child." Why dreadful ? She was acting as she had been trained to act. Who could expect a child behaving in this way at seven to display at thirteen the Presence of Mind of a little girl I saw near Niagara ? She had been left in charge of the opening to the natural curiosity called the Devil's Hole. On the counter were a few jars of candy; she had with her a child of two and a half; the rear door of the slioj) opened upon a wide table-rock which overhung the river, boiling perhaps a hundred feet below, over its stony bed, in prodigious rapids. While the girl was receiving tne fees of a party about to descend the ladders at the right of the rock, the little child escaped by the back-door. The party gone, the young nurse saw the child running toward the verge 01 the rock; to call, or to pursue, would ensure its destruction; she grasped a jar of candy, and sJiouting "candy!" poured it« m:4 222 T//£ C0MPLE7E HOME. contents out .pon the rock. The child looked back; not six feet from destruction it paused; could not resist the lavished sweets, and came skippin^r back to share them! Here was a fine instance of Presence of Mind: the self-control which repressed the dangerous call or pursuit; the reason wJiich seized the temptation strongest to the fugitive, which in a flash argued -)\x\ the dangers and the probabilities of the case, and acted on the instant, when to delay would have been death. Cousin Ann has always been careful to cultivate Presence of Mind in her children. Once when P>ed was small I was there, and the door of the kitchen stove falling open, the coals rolled out upon the floor and began to burn. Im-ccI, about three years old, began to scream. "Kush!" said Cousin Ann, calmly; " put the fire out, and scream afterwards^ She put a little pail of water into his hand, and made him pour it over the fire, and then gather the quenched coals on a shovel and put them in the hearth. " It is true," she said, " that the floor is a little more burned than if f had left Fred to shriek and had poured on the water myself; but I have tiught him how to put out a fire, and that in emergencies it is better to act than to cry!' I replied: " The course you took is better for many reasons, as I liave noticed that, in families where Presence of Mind is cultivated, accidents are few: for the calm, reasonable courage which can meet an accident \vi.sely, is the quality which will usually prevent their occurring." Cousin Ann and myself were going from her liousc into town one day walking, when, as we passed a neighbor's farm-house, a woman rushed out, crying, " Murder ! Murder! he's dying." Cousin Ann dashed in, and I followed her. On a chair, just within the door, sat a fine young man ; an axe lay beside him; the floor was covered with blood which .spouted from his leg just below the knee. Ho had drawn up his trowscr-icg over OCCIDENTS IN THE HOME. 223 flie knee, but nothing else had been done, and his face was growing white as his life-blood poured away. On the instant Cousin Ann snatched from the mother's waist her apron with wide tape-strings, tore off a string, and proceeded to draw it round the leg about an inch above the wound. " Bring me a little stick, Sophronia! " she cried; and twisting this under the tied tape, she turned it around so as to increase the pressure and check the flow of blood. In a moment or two the bleeding had stopped. The mother, who had had presence of mind to do nothing but talk, wanted to talk loudly. "He was cutting wood! He .struck himself! Oh, me! I thought he was dead ! " "Be quiet," .said Cousin Ann, with authority. "Bathe his face with vinegar and water: he is faint. Sophronia, find a fresh i^^^ at the barn and whip it up with a little sugar : he needs something to strengthen him." Meanwhile, she removed his shoe and stocking; bathed away the blood; helped the mother draw the injured man's rocking- chair away from the sight of the .stained floor , arranged his wounded leg .safely ; quietly told a boy, who was passing, to send a doctor from the village to dress the wound; bade the woman set her room in order ; gave the young man the egg ; and having in the.se few moments saved his life and restored him to comfort, she sat by him flmning him, while he slept fiom exhaustion, until the doctor arrived. H;ul the poor mother been left to her own device of screaming "murder," her son would have been murdered indeed. When I first hired Martha, she seemed so reserved and "dour," as the Scotch .say, and had such a blunt style of speaking, that I hardly wanted to keep her. An accident happened one day which showed mc her worth. Our next- door neighbor dashed to our kitchen, crying: "My Harry's in the well I '• 224 THE COMPLETE HOME. "Arrah! and are you laving him there?" cried Martha, darting out of the kitchen with me after her. The well was between the two yards. " Saze the handle, miss," cried Martha to me, letting herself over into the well and catching the rope, I caught the windlass, and cried to the mother to hold it with me. Martha, with great Presence of Mind, aided her descent by the side of the well, so that her weight might not come fully upon my arms. Reaching the water she caught the child as he came to the surface for the last time. " Fasten the windlass, miss!" shouted Martha; "and drop me the end of a clothes-line to send him up by." In fact, her promptitude saved the child's life. He came up insensible, but wo brought him to after a while. I remember a rule which I have heard Mrs. Winton give her children : a paraphrase of some of Mentor's advice to Telemaque. " Be very much afraid of danger when you are out of it ; when you are in it be fearless ; never give up." She was always very careful to teach her children to meet accidents with calm judgment. I happened to be there one day when her second little son nearly cut off the top of his thumb with a hay-cutter. Mrs. Winton joined the dissevered thumb, which held only by a narrow bit of skin, and held it exactly and firmly in place. She held the child on her lap, keeping the wound joined and clasped by her hand so that he could not move it. She said, calmly, " My dear, screaming will not cure your Uiumb, but keeping quitt may save it. The doctor will be here in a few moments and sew this thumb together, and with care it may be as good as ever. Come now, courage ; you do not want a dis- figured hand." The child took heart, carried himself bravely, -vnd his thumb healed with hardly a scar. Mrs. Winton's Presence of Mind was of much service to Miriam's little Dor.% Mr.s. Winton and I entered the hou.se one day to find all in confusion : Dora had scalded her little arm <. ! ^^X liT ACCIDENTS IN THE HOME. 225 sadly with steam, from the wrist to the elbow, and was almost in convulsions with pain. The accident had just happened. Mrs. Winton looked hastily to see that the skin was not broken; ran into the kitchen, where everything was always in order' and handy; and in an instant mixed half a cup of flour and the same amount of table-salt into a thick paste with cold water. Mi. -am has a wall-pocket for string; another for paper. Mrs. Winton from the latter took a paper-bag, tore it open, spread on the paste, and running back to the sitting-room bound the plaster over the whole arm and hand, tied it on with string, wrapped over it her pocket-handkerchief, and bound over that a napkin. In three minutes Dora's cries were calmed. She began to catch her breath softly, and look about for the cause of h«r late agony. Exhausted as she was with pain and terror, she was evidently becoming relieved. Mrs. Winton took her on her lap ; held the burned arm extended, with a little upward inclination to keep the blood from pressing into it. She bathed her face with bay-water, and began to sing her a little song. In ten minutes Dora was out of pain, and in five more she was asleep. "Where did you learn such a magical remedy?" I asked. " I invented it from two old ones," she said. " I have had flour and water highly recommended for burns, and also wet salt: both are of some use. I burned my own hand badly one day, and concluded to unite the two remedies. I find the flour- and-salt paste, laid on plentifully, not so thin as to run, and not so thick as to dry quickly, always effectual where the skin is unbroken : it relieves pain in two or three minutes ; cures pain entirely in ten. The paste is always most useful spread on brown paper. When Dora wakes, put on a fresh paste, expos- ing the arm to the air as little as possible ; at bed-time, change the paste again : keep her arm extended and slightly raised. To-morrow morning, wrap it in linen, wrung out of sweet 16 ¥li w^ 2(5 T//£ COMPLETE HOME. I' : i' mm. Ill- castor-oil, and you will have no further trouble with the burn." I suppose that there is no more general cause of accidents than fire. Accidents by fire have become more numerous since the introduction of coal-oil for lighting — not that the oil is dan- gerous if properly used, but it is constantly so improperly used. Servants and housewives too are continually using it for lighting fires : pouring a little on the kindling to make a quick blaze. The flame darts up into the can, and there is an explosion. I have even heard of a person sprinkling powder from a keg upon a slow fire to expedite it : it is needless to say that the fire, leap- ing, followed the rash hand back to the keg to the destruction of reckless person and room also. Helen's Hannah had this terrible habit of using kerosene. Helen used to say that she expected every morning to hear a shriek, and see Hannah run- ning about the house all on fire. She got her lesson, however, in an easier fashion. Helen's Tom was ill, and I went to the kitchen to make gruel. Hannah, in her zeal to quicken the cooking, took a bottle wherein was a little kerosene, and i-prinkled it on the fire. Not knowing what she was doing, I turned just in time to see the flame dart back into the bottle. Hannah flung it from her, thus sprinkling herself with the flam- ing oil. Fortunately, there were but a few drops in the bottle. I caught up a bucket, which stood full of water, and dashed it over Hannah, and then catching her by the shoulders pressed her upon the floor on her face, and wrapped the kitchen carpet over her ; she was spared other harm than the loss of her apron and her dress-sleeves. The unlucky bottle, breaking on the hearth, consumed the rest of the small quantity of oil without damage. Hannah has been judicious in her use of kerosene ever since. A fruitful cause of lamp explosions is the use of lamps in wliich the oil has burned ver)- lov^- ; or, people do not trim the wicks properly, and red-hot snuff" falls from them; ''■'■ t V s ACCIDENTS IN THE HOME. 227 others screw a lamp-top on poorly, allowing room for the air to sweep in if the lamp is moved. If lamps are filled too full, or until they run over, there is great danger c" an explosion: nor should they ever be filled by lamp or fire-light, or near a stove. No housewife should retire for the night until she has looked after the state of the fires in the house, made sure that no wood or cloth is- in a position where it may fall on a stove or fire, and has seen to it that there is a supply of water on hand in the pails. One should not go to bed with pitchers and buckets empty, for no one can know what dangers may call for water before daybreak. The old saw, "an ounce of prevention is wort', a pound of cure," .should be written in every kitchen. How many fires have originated from .he insane practice of preparing kindling for the morning, and leaving it over-night on the top of the kitchen-stove, where fire is yet burning when the family retire! the wood breaks into a flame, falls apart, rolls on the floor; the dry pine boards arc soon in a blaze, and the family are presently homeless. Another frequent cause of burned houses is the leaving a frame of clothes beside the kitchen-stove at night to finish drying or airing ; some yielding of the floor, puff of wind, the running against the frame of cat, dog or rati topples it over, and in a few minutes the burning garments are' scattering destruction. Millions of dollars' worth of property have been destroyed by carelessness in taking up and disposing of ashes. Ashes should alzvays be removed in the morning before the fire is lit : this should be an invariable rule ; the ashes are then cold and safe. Ashes should never be put in a bam, wood-shed, beside a fence, or by any wooden buildings. Wood- ashes will retain a central heat, and communicate fire long after they arc supposed to be quite extinct. It is good economy to dig a square ash-pit, build a brick wall four feet high about it and cover it with a sloping roof; if the under-side o7 the roof- boards arc covered- with refuse tin, or with a thick wash of salt THE COMPLETE HOME. and lime, so much the better; if this ash-house is twenty (cct from any building, safety in this direction is secured. If the place for the ashes is so far from the house, or in so exposed a situation that it is difficult or dangerous for a person to go to it in cold or stormy weather, or for a jx rson suffering from a cold, then there is a constant temptation to leave ashes about in wooden pails or tubs, or to wait until late in the day to remove them from the stove or to throw them out in heaps near the house, whence hot cinders could be blown to the buildings. I have myself known of the ruin of one hundred thousand dollars' worth of property from various fires occasioned by hot ashes, and I dare say if the statistics of fires referable to this cause alone should be obtained, the result would be appalling. In the country the farmer wants the ashes for his ground ; the house- wife needs them for lye: such an ash-h'->use as has just been mentioned could be made by any farmer and his lads in sf>^rc hours, and would secure them from the dangerous ash-barrel which may be the ruin of his whole fortune. My servant Martha's sister lost a snug little house and nearly all that it con- tained by taking ashes from her stove at noon, which should have been removed before breakfast, and adding to this the taking them in a wooden pail. An hour after she found the pail on fire, fallen apart, its blazing staves scattered around her kitchen and on the rag-carpet. Instead of closing doors and windows, dragging up the carpet, and fighting the fire with a bucket of water, she fled screaming from the place, leaving the door wide-open, which fanned the flame beyond control. People whose carelessness allows a house to catch fire are generally those who have no presence of mind to use proper means to extinguish it. That was a wise law of stout old Peter Stuy- vesant. Governor of New York in the Dutch times, which fined every man who allowed his premises to take fire, and then ho ded the fine for buckets, hooks, ladders and other mean* putting out fires. ACCIDENTS IN THE HOME. 229 Speaking of fires I am reminded of people's carelessness in the use of matches. They leave matches in closets near chim- neys, or in places exposed to a strong sun-heat, so that they may be ignited by what is called spontaneous combustion. Matches are left on shelves, in paper-boxes, where mice can get among them; they arc dropped around the floor, and swept into dusty cracks and corners ; a burnt match with a red-hot end is dropped into a wood-box, or on a floor covered with matting. People carry matches about in their pockets, and leave them hanging up in a dusty coat, and then wonder why fires are so frequent. When we think of the millions of dollars yearly lost in fires, we must be sure that there is inexcusable carelessness somewhere. A great fire like that in Chicago or Boston astounds us, but yearly quite as much property is lost in isolated fires. Scattered over all the country one sees the blackened ruins of what were handsome or comfortable farm-houses and fine barns. The phrase, "loss covered by insurance," seems to deceive people; "loss transferred by insurance" wou^fl be a truer term, for the loss is a loss, and the dollars burned up are dollars gone, lost entirely out of the general purse. The contributions of the many on insurance policies have saved the one loser from ruin, /he loss is spread out more widely, and so is less felt by a single individual ; but it is a real loss of property just as much as when one reads " no insurance." Nothing is more alarming than an outbreak of fire ; almost no accident seems so calculated to " turn one's head," as people say ; consequently the damages of fire are greater, because people fail in fighting it properly at its beginning. Air should be shut out from the burning place as much as possible ; if it is too late for individuals to fight the monster with buckets of water, then shut the fire in closely, and begin to remove furniture until hose can be brought. The most coolly systematic meeting of a fire Miat I ever knew was the case of a widow near our village. <'«[' 6 ■" ^;-ri'; SI Mi 230 r//£ COMPLETE HOME, She returned from church one afternoon with her three grown daughters and a ten-year-old boy, and found her house on fire ; the fire being in the kitchen, and under such headway, that their efforts would be impotent to check it. Mrs. G. saw this at a glance ; she bid the boy run back the mile to the village and call the fire company ; in a moment closed the kitchen shutters and laid a rug against each closed door to shut off all air. One daughter then set herself to rescue the goods in the sitting-room next the kitchen ; the mother and the two other girls took each a bed-room. They did not waste a second : each taking a sheet from the bed, emptied the bureau-drawers and the closets into it, tied the corners tightly and flung it from the window ; the other sheet was in like fashion tied about the bedding and flung out; next the carpet was pulled up, the curtains wrapped in it, and these went out the window. Two of the girls then ran out of doors, dragged these rescued goods to a place where the wici blew to and not from the fire, and piling them up spread a carpet over them. Two and two they then carried out I heir trunks ; and while the three girls began on the furniture, the mother, >vho had emptied the room over the kitchen, deluged il well with all the water she could bring. They left, so promptly that it seemed done by instinct, things which were of small value, or readily broken ; they threw nothing which would break out of . a window, and carried down-stairs no soft bundle which could be thrown out. When help came, the house was pretty welf. emptied ; and was finally saved with the loss of the kitchen, th( scorching of the room above it, and the burning of the wash- shed. Mrs. G. told me that they would have saved all theii goods in complete order, even if the house had been lost. It is the part of prudence always, except in severe freezing weather, to have plenty of water in every bed-room ; and if there is a bath-room, one or two buckets of water should be always standing there ready for use. I find in my journals a deal ACCIDENTS m THE HOME. 231 about accIcLnts by fires ; but fire is not the only cause of accidents by any means. In a house full of children how many accidents are occasioned by falls! Helen says it seems as if some of her half-dozen were tumbling off chairs or down-stairs continually ; children should not be encouraged to make much ado over small matters, but falls where the head or back rer-ivcs r. heavy blow are apt to be dangerous; the head shoulc in such :■ case be plentifully bathed in cold water; a few dro^^ ; :'\ amm/nia in water should be administered, heat or friction api •' '-ox Lo the hands and feet, and the child should not be allowed to sleep within two or three hours ; its attention should be awakened, and drowsiness kept off by all possible means; if nausea follows a fall, a physician should be at once sent .for. Indeed, the accidents which befall children arc innumerable. I find record how Master Tom undertook to pound up glass with a stone and was nearly frantic from a bit which got into his eye. The case was desperate; Tom, roaring lustily, wanted to shut his eye and rub it with his fist, thus making bad worse ; moreover, not having been trained to obey, we could do nothing with him. I was obliged to tie his arms down with a towel ; then Hannah held him firmly back over my lap; I drew the eye open, lifting the upper lid, and Helen, by my directions, syringed it thoroughly; I then concluded the most of the glass must be out; I slipped three flaxseeds under the lid, tied the eye up with a napkin wet in cold water, put Tom in bed in a dark room, and sat by him telling him stories until he fell asleep; his eye was bloodshot and needed a shade for a few days, but received no permanent injury. Another of Tom's accidents was when Hester and I had him up in the mountains with us. There was no doctor within ten miles. Tom, who is a tease, teased a dog and had his thumb severely bitten. It was in hot weather, and visions cf hydrophobia flashed upon us as soon as he screamed. Hestei: hHbk 232 THE COMPLETE HOME. ! J seized his hand and made a swift, sharp cut above the bite in the fleshy part of the lower joint of the thumb, holding his hand firmly downwards; she then washed the wounds thoroughly in water pretty strong with ammonia, and made him take some ammonia water; after this she gave him a hot soda-water bath, administered a good dose of magnesia, and put Tom to bed, keeping the cloths on his hand wet with ammonia water. Her patient complained bitterly of this heroic treatment, but Hester told him that any treatment was better than hydrophobia: that if there was poison in his system there must be help to throw it off, and among other good results she hoped her doctoring would produce a carefulness about teasing dogs. I do not know how dangerous Tom's bite might have been, but he never suffered any other ill effects from it than Hester's style of cure. I have always found ammonia very excellent for bites and stings, and of late years I have used, with very good effect, cos- moline for the bites of spiders and poisonous insects. While Hester and I were at the mountains at this time we had another patient; a young lad who was working on a barn roof had a sunstroke. All was confusion ; some declared that he was dead; others shouted for brandy; we had him laid in the shade and poured very cold spring water over his head and wrist-.; I pounded some ice, folded it in a long towel, and, the men raising the patient, I placed it under his spine and the back of his neck; Hester reject-'] the proffer of brandy, admin- istering instead ammonia water, and bathing his fice and neck. in iced bay-water; she also had the men rub his feet vigorously; under this treatmr-^t our patient recovered very speedily. I remember that was a very hot summer, and one day I saw an instance of IMr^. Burr's readiness in meeting danger. I was sitting with her in the .sewing-room up-stairs, and her servant was ironing in the kitclu .) • Mrs. IJurr glanced from the window, ACCIDENTS IN THE HOME. 233 then sprang like a flash to the entry above the kitchen stairs and cried: "Mary! shut that outside door!" Her voice was loud and peremptory. Mary began : " Why, ma'am—" " Shut that door ! " repeated Mrs. Burr, in a tone that admitted no disobedience, and the door slammed shut. "Are the other doors shut ? Shut the window." Down came the window, and then Mary's voice: "Why, ma'am, it's that burning hot — " " I dare say," said Mrs. Burr; "and there's a mad dog ax the yard," and she went down to assure herself about the doors. In a few minutes more we heard two shots, and the dog lay dead. The open kitchen door was in his direct track, and of this Mrs. Burr thought as she saw him turn towards her gate; h.>r quickness in ordering it shut by Mary, who was standing beside it, perhaps saved the maid's life. "Oh," said Mary, overcome, " what a mercy I shut it when I did!" " Hereafter." replied Mrs. Burr, "promptly do as you are told, and make your objections afterwards." I have observed that those who are remarkable for Presence of Mind, for courage in danger, are very little likely to be injured in the efforts which they make for them.selves and others ; their fearlessness, which in a large measure arises from unselfi.shness, their calm bravery and good judgment, teach them to do the' right thing in the right way; so that, for instance, while a person who goes wild with terror at sight of some one in flames is often burned with them, the posse.s.sor of Presence of Mind will save both parties with but small injury. So I once .saw a slender young woman stop a frightened horse, soothe him, tie him ■securely, and relieve two ladies in the buggj-, who, while they might have controlled the aniiuai if tliey had controlled them- selves, were only by their shrieks adding to the difllculty. She if #,'^' I 5P ^1 i 234 THE COMPLETE HOME. who came to the rescue niiglit very properly have pleaded her health as an excuse for doing nothing, but knowing what was to be done, and calmly fearless, she prevented a serious accident, and that with entire safety to herself. I think many women positively make a virtue of being nervous about horses ; they will leap from a carriage where a horse is curveting or friglitened, and in the leap get serious damage, when by keeping quiet no harm would have ensued; or, they will snatch at the rems, grasp a driver's hands, scream in a manner to increase a horse's panic, and so occasion a disaster which quiet might have hin. dered. Miriam several times showed great presence of mind in trying circumstances, as I remember. As she opened her front-dnor entering her home one afternoon, her little boy met her, his gingham apron all in flames. Without a word she threw him on his face, and began rolling him rapidly on the hall-floor, until reaching for a rug lying by a door, she wrapped that around him, and presently extinguished the fire. At another time she was buying .shoes in a shop, when a sound of choking was heard from the next room. The woman who waited on her looked about, and cried: "My baby's dying! " Miriam .sprang with her into the next room, and saw a child of a year old on the floor strangling. She caught the little thing up under her left arm, holding its head partly downwards, and pressed two fingers of her right hand firmly downward and backwartl in the hollow of the throat; this forced the lower part of the throat to close, and insl.intly the cau.se of the choking, a copper cent, which the lilile one had got about half way down its throat, came up. This pressing on the outside of the throat at the hollow, njaking the pressure downward and backward, is nnich better, in case of a child .strangling upon any half-.swallowed sub- stance, than the ordinary fashion of thrusting the finger into the mouth, which usually crowds the obstruction flirther down. ACCIDENTS IN THE HOME. 235 Too much care cannot be exercised in keeping away from young children marbles, bits of money, thimbles oi other such substances, wherewith they might choke themselves. Astound- ing as the statement may seem, I once saw in a grave-yard the graves of five infants of one mother, all of whom ]i:id come to their death by choking with a thimble. Perhaps I misjudged that unhappy mother — whose losses finally made her insane — • and she luid not been careless in this unhappy series of disasters, but I thought of the verse in Proverbs: "Though thou bray a fool in a mortar with a pestle, yet will not his foolishness depart from him." It is dangerous also to give a child paper to play with, because it is apt cO fill its mouth with paper, and presently to choke on the wet lump. Too much care cannot be exercised over the things given to a young child to amuse it. An acquaintance of mine carelessly handed a child a piece of green worsted cloth. After some time she saw that the babe's mouth was discolored Trom sucking this rag; in fact, the child was poisoned with the dye. and after a two months' illness narrowly escaped with its life. Speaking of poison, reminds me that we should keep on hand some simple antidote. The whites of raw eggs, also mustard and water, arc often useful where p(>isoii has been swallowed. When I was spending a winter with my half-si.ster in New York, her daughter-in-law rushed into the kitchen, crying that she was poisoned. She had carelessly mistaken a poison given her for a bath, and used it internally. My sister was leaking .sponge cake, and had by her a plate of whites of eggs, which she was about to beat. She promptly administered the.se, and .saved the young v. ijman's life. Of late I have been urging upon my young friends the importance of training their children in habits of self-control, in the exerci.se of Presence of Mind, that they may act resolutely and bravely in cfncfgcncics, and mc-.-t accidents with calmness. It 13 not worth while to wait for some great crisis to occur to I % J I « ■Mk ill 236 THE COMPLETE HOME. give this training : begin it in little things. When anything is dropped or broken, let the damage be repaired promptly and properly: thus one is accustomed to think reasonably and judiciously. The screaming and excitement over small mis- adventures, which begin often as a mere affectation, end in a real incapacity for rendering effective service in time of need. I have noticed that those who exaggerate in their views and accounts of things, by accustoming their imagination to super- sede their judgment, end in becoming timid, nervous and help- less in a crisis. There is no greater folly than to educate children into cowardice. Parents do this by showing cowardice themselves, by allowing their children to be terrified with foolish tales, jr made the victims of cruel jokes, or frightened to render them obedient. Train them to look reasonably at all things, to see that in every danger or difficulty there is some- thing that can be done, if it is only to keep calm ana wait; and let them learn that the real point of danger is when the r ind has lost the mastery of itself, when reason has given the r .is to fear or to imagination. How many evils are intensified, or real dangers brought out of imaginary dangers, by tliis wicked excitement! A lady in our village was ill, when her nurse rushed in, crying, " Harry's drowned ! he fell in the creek ! " The unfortunate mother was thrown into a congestive chill, and in a few hours was dead; while her child, who had been pulled out of the water as quickly as he fell in, had no harm but a wetting. If the child had been drowned, the news should not have been so hastily carried to the sick mother; while if he had .seemed drowned, and had really been near to death, vigorous efforts, as rubbing, wrapping in hot blankets, and the . - r known remedies, might have resuscitated him. I have heard people argue that they were not to blame for lacking Presence of Mind, and sn fiiling to furnish a nrrper conduct in cases of accidents. They say that the courage, ACCIDENTS m THE HOME. 237 reason, decision, firmness, which compose Presence of Mind, are gifts of God, not to be created by human effort, and he who lacks them is rather to be pitied than blamed. Now, I reply, that all peop'e, who are not idiots or insane, have in them the germs of all these qualities ; these are implanted in their minds by God; and whether weak or strong in their inception, they are capable of increase by cultivation, and they wiil dwindle if they are not fostered ; therefore, he who lacks these powers is guilty in the lack, inasmuch as he has not made the best of himself, has not developed the good that was in him, and by so failing] has really developed fear, feebleness and idle excitement. Some people, especially those of delicate constitutions, are victims of nervous tremors and terrors ; they tremble and grow faint at a cry of pain, at sight of blood, at the sound of a fall; only by painful efforts can they school themselves to conquer these predispositions. They who out of these natural dis- abilities develop courage, and helpfulness, and calm self- control should be crowned as true heroes. Every effort toward this attainment of Presence of Mind they will find worth the making in the good they do, the evil they avoid doing, and the satisfaction of conscience. Every effort will, in its very painfuN ness, lift them nearer to rigid self-control. "The angel of martyrdom is brother to the angel of victory." •M W\ u '"Shi- J' CHAPTER X. RELIGIOxV IN TIIL HOME. WHAT AUMi- SOPHROMA HAS TO SAY OF FAMILY PIETV. NE Sabb 1^1 fivf ning in June, I was sitting on my front piazza, reading, when a neighbor of mine, with his two little boys, rcLurnin., from a walk, passed me. The youni^est child called to me for some roses that !:::revv in my yard, and I bid him help himself The three then ca-ae in and sat down near me on the steps. After a little general con- versation, I said to my neighbor: " Mr. Carr. you have a promising family of boys growing up around you, and I am sorry to see that you do not take them to church, and bring them up in the ways of piety." " Why, Miss Sophronia," .said Mr. Carr, " I don't believe in religion!" " Is it possible ! " I replied. " But you are always esteemed as a very industrious, honest, generous, law-abiding man." "Certainly," said Mr. Carr; "I hold to morals, but not to religion. I believe in abiding by the laws." "Suppose you wcte in a country where stealing was not coii- trary to law, would you steal?" "Why, no; I have a principle against stealing." "As you abide by the laws, and do not believe in rcligif n, I suppose you adhere to the statute-book, and not to the Bib' " That's about it." "Did you never cor ' i; r that these morals in '- hich ;-ou irc originall)' laid down in the Bible as a ^c. re- (238) RELIGION IN THE HOME. 2;" 9 ligion, that our statute-books are modelled on the Bible laws prohibiting what it prohibits, and for the most part following its' penalties? Countries which have no Bible, no Christian rdig- ion, have no pure code of morals, no righteous statute laws. If you will cast over in your mind the present state of the coun. tries in the world, Christian and unchristian, if you will run over in your thoughts the history of the world, you will see that morality and justice have spread among nations just in propor- tion as Bible-light has spread. It is a mere matter of facts and statistics, not of theory. Contrast Germany and Turkey En- land and India, Holland and Siam, the United States and Africa Then draw the lines a little closer, and look at those countries where the Bible has been free in the vulgar tongue and where it has been hidden, and contrast the intelligence, the purity of morals, the statistics of education, the number of murders, the proportion of lawful marriages, the character of truthfulness. Take the same country wun a free Bible and freedom of wor- ship, and without-Italy, for instance, in these two cascs-and iice when was the march of improvement, the increase in wealth, power, unity and credit among other nations." I knew my neighbor was a reading man, and that he boasted of a good historic library. He pondered a while, hesitating. " Yes," he .said, " it does seem that morals and religion, civilization nnd freedom in wor- ship, the Bible and good laws, go hand in hand. But, Miss Sophronia, we might look at religion as an education, which states need to bring them up to a point of development where they can look out for themselves, as a lad needs schooling, and then quits school." " But the mind is cither going forward or backward; it cannot stand still : if it does not advance, it will retrograde. Suppose on leaving school the boy never looks at a printed word, never writes a word, lets drop the acquirements which he has made. m 240 r//E COMPLETE HOME. \% ■; !: what will become of him? — he will brutalize. If the state in all its individuals cuts loose from religion after it has risen by religion, then anarchy will follow. If states ristj by God's law, they stand by it. You say you hold to morals, but do not adhere to the Bible. The morals to which you cling are a part of the Bible. Let us take the Moral Law. Here are the first two Commandments about worshipping God, and not worship- ping images: what do you do with them?" " Nothing. That's religion, and I just let it alone." " Take the next — against profanity." "Well, Miss Sophronia, swearing is useless and vulgar; it is a mark of blackguards, common to men drunk, and men lying, and men in a passion. It is also forbidden by the laws of some states. I'm against swearing, as a matter of decency and good order." " Try the fourth — about keeping the Sabbath." " Well, now. Miss Sophronia, I think every man should keep it as he pleases. If I take a walk, I don't hurt my jeighbors by doing it. If men prefer recreation to church, why let them have recreation. Why cannot Suriday be left like any other day in the week, and let those who want to go to church on it go ? " " If Sabbath is left like any other day in the week, then out business places must be full of traffic, buildings must be going up, boats and cars must be running, the farmer who prefers to work can keep his hands haying, harvesting or ploughing, all places of amusement must be open, peddlers crying their wares, organ-men grinding, auctions going on, factories working. Consider in such a case that all men who are employes must lose their Sabbath or their situations; they may have a con- science about the matter, and desire to keep the Sabbath holy, but they cannot, unless they throw up their business, and stand open to beggary. All people who have leisure, and desire to go to church, would find their services invaded by noise : they would RELIGION IN THE HOME. gj-- be deprived, against their wills, of the calm and rest which SaJ bath mtcnds. You, who demand a Sabbath for recreat.on for amusement for hard workers, say open the Zoological Gardens and museums. If these, why not the shows, theatres and beer- gardens P If these can be allowed to make money, why cannot the stores, the markets, the factories be open? If these are .// open, then that working-class, which in your demand were rep- resented as exhausted by six days' work, and needing recreation, v-ll be requ.red to work seven days (or lose their bread), and they wdl see neither rest nor recreation. Again, parents who chensh the Sabbath as a day of holy resting desire to bring the.r chddren up so to regard it; but if the barriers which surt round the Sabbath are cast down, and the day is made exactly hke other days, there will be no quiet at home in which to .nstruct the children. As they pass along the streets to church they see examples which their parents believe to be pernicious- the:r very church service is invaded with din; the individual' nght of the parent to train up his child in accordance with his own conscience is interfered with. You abhor swearing- sun- pose it were legal for a man to stand by the hour at your" gat' and fill the cars ofyour boys with proCanity?" '' "I don't go so far as you think I do about the Sabbath." said Mr. Cam "I don't hold that any one should be allowed to disturb his neighbor. Parson can't make me go to church, and I ought not to claim a right (o di.sturb parson's Sunday As to the Sunday shows and excursions, I don't want you to think I'd go or take my children." " Why not ? You don't think them wrong, surely ? " "No. not in themselves, but in the way they are conducted If you nonce in the pane ^ they generally end in a row : there .« always a lot of n.;.- drinking and swearing; and. as the r suit of the confusion, often an accident. I always look for a blow-up of some sort when I hear of a big Sunday excursion." (.' I li^H 242 77/£ CO- .IE '10 ME. II " Do you have that feeling about large school, church or trades' excursions on other days of the week ? " " Oh, no. I sometimes go to them with my boys." "Consider, then, Mr. Carr, that yt^ r.,,.,..,oly admit that the ucople who clamor for and indulge in the breaking of th« Fourth Coinmandnient are the noisy, dangerous, law-breaking class; wiiile the observers of the command are the law-abiding, orderly, respectable people : does not that speak pretty well for the command, and for the virtue of keeping it intact?" " Now see here. Miss Sophronia," said Mr. Carr, with a fine appearance of liberality, " I'll take that command in as a part of morals : there's as much morals as religion in it, and I hold to morals." I made no remark about the connection of morals and religion, but passed on to the next command : " What do you think of the Fifth : 'Honor thy father and thy mother—? ' " " That's morals, sound morals, and the voice of Nature." " But without the enlightening influence of the Bible, it seems to me that this voice of Nature often dies away, not only in solitary individuals, l.i? in whoie natic , and those most widely removed in race and situation. In India, Alaska, and the di.stant islands, I find that parent-s make a practice of murdcrin;.; their children, and children m turn make :. practice oi murdering their sick or aged parents, casting them out to the sea, to >t, 'm y 252 THE COMPLETE HOME. :i 111 -^k especially pleased himself, he would not permit any carping. He used to say: ' Don't quarrel with the dish in which you get the bread of life,' and he frequently quoted the passage: 'Touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm.' I know once our hired man said : ' That was a mighty poor sermon to- day,' and father retorted : ' Poor or not, Thomas, if you'll live vp to it this week, you'll make an astonishing improvement on your past.' " Wc were required to be orderly on the Sabbath, and to read only Sabbath books; but we were well supplied with these, and could read them on the porch, or in a tree, in the barn or gar- den, as we liked, if we would not get into a frolic or foolish talk. We had always to learn some verses from the Bible on Sunday, and read a chapter, and repeat its substance, and after tea, mother always instructed us from the Bible for an hour, and then we read a few chapters, verse about, while father explained them to us. We were encouraged to amuse ourselves asking each other hru'd questions, capping verses, making or decipher- ing scriptural enigmas, all of which increased our acquaintance with the Bible. When we did anything wrong, Bible authority was appealed to, to condemn it ; if we proposed any course which our parents did not approve, they based their disapproval on the Scripitiwcs : they .squared their own conduct on the Bible, and we saw dearly that they only wished us to walk in the way where they went themselves, and that in pressing piety upon us, they offered thus that which themselves thought most worth the Ikivji:^. They considered us as children of God, because them- sulvcs were God's children, and they required us to walk worthy of that calling before we liad in our own right made any public profession thereof. Our mother, no matter how tired or hurried she might be, always took us to bed, until we were eight years old, heard u° «:aj' our p-rpj-cr- reverently, and repeated to us a verse of Scripture. When we were old enough to go to bed by ■i-ft. RELIGION IN THE HOME. 253 ourselves, as we kissed mother good-night, she almost always said : ' Do not neglect your prayers, and think while you pray.' We were always carefully kept from irreligious companions, and from books which were in any way hostile to piety, and we were taught to reverence good people because they were loved of God. In fact, our Home Life was a Religious Life : piety was as natural to our home as its food or its labors ; we grew into it, because we were trained in it. just as the trees in the orchard grow into good fruit-bearing, because they had been planted, grafted, pruned, cultivated, cared for, all with a view to good fruit-bearing. I never heard any one question the quality of the fruit, because it was a product of this cultivating, and had not developed itself without any help or attention." " Indeed, Sara." said Helen, " I am much obliged to you for such a plain, simple statement of your mother's religious training of her family; it makes things seem clearer and easier to me." ' " We may also," said Hester, " learn or take warning by the converse. I visited once in a fimily where the parents were church-members, but living among worldly people, and more and more in a worldly way, they retained very few or no prac- tices of piety. They never had a blessing at table, never family prayer; they went to church or not, just as it happened. The mother sent the nurse to take the children to bed, so that they hardly heard of saying their prayers. If their mother on .Sun- day bestirred herself to tell them a Bible story, or that God made them, or that Adam was the first man, it was as much religious instruction as ever they got. If the parents went to church, the children were left at home, for their mother .said it was too much trouble to get them ready, and their father .said they distracted him by being uneasy: besides their parents con- sidered going to Sunday-school—which they did irregularly— was quite rolirfinh enough for a Sunrhy ; therefore, if the parents were in the family pew, between them, where their children should have been, stretched a vacuum, which God abhors." ir ite^ " ""'"'""aHBfiai^B ■ ^t'lfl^ 1 iiil ^'tjl •if!* H. 254 THE COMPLETE HOME. \i m\ " I'm afraid," said Helen, " that some of my training has been like that, though I trust not quite so deplorable. However I resolve to do better; indeed, I have often so resolved, but when I get the children about me on Sunday to give them a little instruction, they are so restless, and make such insane answers, that as often as anything I end by getting provoked. Imagine Phil, after I have taught him this two years that God made him, when I asked the question, replying, gravely, ' I guess the Presi- dent ; ' or insi-sting upon stopping all instruction while he, during the story of The Fall, investigated rc'/^ Adam and Eve, shut out at the gate, ' did not climb over the fence,' or zvhy Adam called a beast such a name as a Kangaroo : I said, in despair, that he did not call it a Kangaroo ; then says Phil, " That ain't its name, and I shall always call it a hopper; ' and then off go Tom and Phil on a dispute whether the term hopper is not pre-empted by a ^grasshopper, and thus ends «y talk. Hester, you ought to have them ; you know how to deal with children, and really I don't," We none of us could help laughing at poor Helen's discomfi- t jre, and really, as to her children, I think with Hannah that they are the '' most masterful mischiefs that ever were borp " I told Hester one day that " the children seemed to have all the decis- ion which their mother lacked." She said that was because their mother had never shown any decision in her government, and so had encouraged insubordination. " However," said Helen, " I did not intend, by the narration of m)' difficulties, to interrupt our conversation on Religion in the Family, for it is a question which I am sure I need to hear discussed. Aunt Sophronia, you have said little as yet on the subject: give us some plain instruction." "It seems to me," I said, "that Sara's account of Cousin Ann's methoc rultivating Family Pictj' cover rly the whole ground, and gives us the picture of a godly home: a home P J RELIGION IN THE HOME. 255 which, broken at last here, shall not perish, but shall be trans- planted to the skies, to grow in greater and greater beauty, as a central sun of a system around which revolve the stars of other homes, lit by its light while here below. The fact is, my chil- dren, that where there is any vital piety in one or both the heads of a Family, it must make itself felt and prominent in the Home: the light in the heart shines out first at the hearth. If there is no Family Religion, there is 710 religion at all in the Family; the true Christian is never like Bunyan's Mr. Talkative, ' a saint abroad and a devil at home;' nor is he pious at church and for himself, and indifferent to the spiritual concerns of his family; and not only he must be not indifterent, but actively interested in their salvation, if he has any true piety, for if religion is any- thing to a soul, it is the first and best of everything. God setteth the solitary in famUies that he may preserve to himself a righteous seed upon the earth; and if we do not serve God in our homes, we contravene the Lord's highest purpose in Home- making, while his tenderest benediction falls on him of whom he can say, as of his servant of old, I know him that he will command his children and his household after him. We ought to esteem it God's choice gift to us that our families may be numbered in his chosen generation and royal priesthood. " ' So boasting not that they derive their birth From loins enthroned and nobles of the earth, Dm higher yet their proud pretensions rise, Children of parents passed into the skies.' "I would like especially to urge upon you careful and regular attendance on the services of your church, both on Sabbath and also at the weekly meetings. Take your children with you to the weekly meetings, whatever they are. We form our habits in youth, so do not let them grow up with a ;;ab.: of absenting themselves fiom ihe gatherings of God's peopl . We can find time for these things, if we will only endcavoriu do so. You t ^i 256 rilE COMPLETE 1/OME. know, Sara, that the Wintons were once for three years in Europe. I heard of their course there from others who were abroad at the same time. Tlicy carefully arranged their travel* ling so that on Sabbaths they should be where there was evat^ gelical preaching in English, and there they went twice to church; they always managed to find the Wednesday evening prayer-meeting, and attend it as regularly as at home ; they spent their Sabbaths just as they did in this country, not 'sight- seeing,' and then salving over conscience by saying it was 'visiting churches and cathedrals;' they went to no places of amusement which they would have judged it inconsistent to attend when at home. A lady once said to Mrs. Winton : ' Why are you so scrupulous here ? We always think we have a right to a little relnv: ;•!; a! the lines when we are abroad.' " Mrs. Wintoii v,as standing by her dressing-table, and she, without seeming lo notice the remark, held out a case contain- ing a valual le diamond ring and pin, saying : ' I might have left those at home, I think ? ' " ' By no means,' cried her visitor; ' they are just as becoming to you here as there ; they are too valuable to be left behind ; wear them, to let people know what you are,' " ' Jewels do not make people,' she replied ; ' I showed you these as a parable. My religion becomes me as well abroad asi at home ; it was too valuable to be left behind. I will wear it as best I can, to show what I profess to be.' "After hearing this story, I did not wonder that foreign travel had not injured the consistency, the, simple common-.sense, of that family." ' You remind me," said Hester, " that some people going abroad strive to ape foreigners, to seem other than they arc, and to lose, as far as possible, their nationality. This always vexes my patriotism. I think this should suggest to us, that God says that the citizenship of his people is in heaven, and \m* fii ii: 1 f I RELIGION IN TlfE HOME. on 57 that we should, as far as we can below, cultivate the manners of our true city. Let us rejoice m our birthright, and teach our children to glory in it." "I remember," .said Mary VVatkins, "that our nii „r in a .sermon on Family Piety said, that wc should, in setting up a new home, begin by whol heartedly consecrating it to God ; and as children are born into that home, each of them should also be consecrated to him, so that our desire for, and earnest expectation of, our child's salvation should be coexistent with Its life, and our training and example should carefully corre- spond to that desire and hope." " Yes," .said Miriam, " we must be consistent in that training: not try and rush toward heaven on Sunday, and then run toward the world all the other days in the week; half-wa) doings do not succeed in business nor in housekeeping, anc' they will not succeed in soul-traaiing." " This," I said, " is the ideal of a safe and happy home : thai it is founded in godliness, vocal with thanksgiving; guarded br- an entreated Prayer-Hearer; and having children given from their birth to God, the parents and children are found cheerily serving the Lord day by day. Whatever is good for the religious growth of the parents— Scripture .study, Sabbath-keeping, benev- olence—will be good for the children, and they should be trained to it; they have a right to have ensured to them the blessings which God gives his servants, in this life and in the life to come." " It seems," said Hester, " that Mr. Carr has bought n big Bible, and every morning reads a chapter to his family; he has hired a .seat in church and attends regularly with all his house- hold, and has put his boys in the Sunday-school. Some one told him that they were glad he had become a Christian. He replied that he made no pretensions to that, but that he had concluded that li! f':S;vB:J 17 xmily of children had a right to Religion in .•5!^ #. ^ /a / % IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I S us 110 1.8 1-25 i 1.4 1.6 Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY 14580 (716) S72-4)03 /. {/ V.A & m:\ -^^ N> 'P'. ^ 4lo ^c?- S M sf:''M 258 THE COMPLETE HOME. the Home, inasmuch as it was a safeguard again.'u crime and pauperism, and an encouragement to thrift and respectability; so he meant to go as far as he could toward securing it for his boys, just as he tried to make them a tidy patrimony, and pro' cure for them a good ed- cation." " He has been stealing some of Aunt Sophronia's thunder," said Miriam, smiling. " I trust," I said, " thai the truth he reads and hears will he blessed to him until he really becomes a Christian ; it speaks well for him that he is doing the best that he knows how to do. This religion which Mr. Carr thinks will be advantageous for his home, must be possessed by himself if he would impress it upon his children. Remember, my dear girls, if you desire to cultivate piety in your children, you must have yourself some- thing better than a formal, cold, cautious, time-serving sort of piety. There are no keener critics than the innocent, observant eyes and thoughtful hearts of little children; dare, yes, desire, to be warm and enthusiastic in your Christianity if you would com- mend it to your families as a thing worth striving for. Religion should be shown forth as joyous, free, hearty, hopeful, if it would enchain the ardent affections of childhood and youth; from the Christian home let — " ' The light of love shine over all.' Rich or poor in its appointments, it should be cheery and kindly, full of common intercuts and homely sclf-jacrifices, and mutual confidences, and good order. Nowhere cl.'ic should things be more honestly what they .seem. It is only by home sentiments that home can be made a place whereto the hearts of children can be firmly bound; by a happy and affec- tionate home, children are held from wandering. There is little hope of religious lives for children who are allowed to fiiul their pleasures away from their parents' guardianship, haunting RELIGION m TL'E HOME. st.'.necrs' ho^cs, or „„k„o„-„ places of a„,„seme„t, staying L . aeeve„,„gs and coding in late, nnchailcnged. If chirdrcn ... to grow up godly, they must have the shelter ,vhich God provided for them-their home. Being ou, ,ate at nigh, lies a. he begmmng of nine-tenths of the courses of ruin „h,ch are on record. Parents should insi.st on their children being home" Z'l . ;"""'"' """^ '■"■^"^ "■= '■°™ '"=>' 4s them. How often do wo hear quoted : ' Eternal vigilance is the price of ■■berty? Eternal vigilance is the price of family piety The parent should honorably face the fact, that his position demand, mcessant kmdiy guardianship of his child; the child's com pamons should be well known to the parent; the home-training of those, the.r morals, n,anncrs, mental characteristics, should be well understood, and their influence over the child carefully noted. If . .s true that a man is known by the company which be keeps, and that evil communications corrupt good u,an„ers can a parent be too watchful over the compa„ion,«l,ips of hi. cl..Idren? So. also, the parents' vigilance must be extended over the .mportant matter of the child's reading A child .*ou,d no. be left, in its early simplicity and heedlessness, o choose ,ts own books; not merely the kind of books should be re.'arded, but their especial eftlxts on their young reader, for what ,s only a needed stimulus to one mind might be d.mger- ously exciting to another, and what might merely properly develop the sympathies of one child might make anothc^ morbid. Co„si""" ^'"'W' "Oh. me," said Helen, " wh.it a world of work it is to rear a Cimily! \Vh.it a buiden of responsibility!" "Consider, my Helen," I replied. ■• that nothing i, a world „f work which is systematically and earnestly carried on, which i, begun at the beginning and regularly proceeded with; and if 260 THE COMPLEIE HOME. :i it were a world of work, a world of work is nothing when we are training for eternity, wlien we have souls in keeping." "And yet," said Mary Watkins, "how very different this training thus far sketched is from the usual training of children! If this is the true way to bring children up, then most children must be merely allowed to come tip!' And yet is not this the model of the Family life, as God designs it ? The Bible is the guide-book, the family code of laws, and Christ is the desired Mode! for all, and he stands illuminat- ing parents and children, and children's children: "As the reflection of a light Between two l)uini.she herself ,„<, Ann, i, does no. Lor,. I 7": ''"'^ ™*=^ '" "" C-™ the fire, are no, : " " ™* "-nge„,c„,,,, for if an^ .e.d, .o r.r j^ rrrjr ^^r "-^ »- ^" '=■'<■ fe^ a day, an evening, or a wee w '""" T ""' '° ^'^^ "°* n,o.e,on in t,; ,a„,e It a Lr.^C ^^^^^^ '"^ not make "conniniv" „r .1. ^°'"''" '^nn does anxiety to be ZZ aft 7- ''"'"' "'* "•=■" "" "«=« something f„, , e ;i"'" """^' "^'-^here; but if there i, to pare into the milo^Z^TT'"' " "" P"" "^ "pple, -hile her finger,, ar.. flyin"' Sh ""'""'■"' '" «"'^'' happens to be^n, Irnjl , I "" '^''"' "■" f*"* "'hat or^^..nts,ora.;:r;rr-h;^^^^ satisfied herself and t ,I-., > r ' ''^' "° ^^'^"^^S' '^ exercised by our n.-„i«ter-.s wife It f u ' " '^'' ''"^ ^^//O^. without grud..„.. sl,nu . ^^^ '^' ^^W/...^- an agent for a religio,,, societv n eolporteur, hi« health, a „,is,il,„ Zet h'T ""'"'"" '"^^'""^ '■°' never too li,l| or too „„ , ''°''"'' =""" 'he house is taXe in a l,n|e old," ^r'™ "™- ' ""^ -" - ' told her onee I i ,;r"^^'''' '"' '"« hi„ like a king. e>aimsn,a,:e„„ | 'i T"' ''""''^ '"" *= --„nt hospitality ,vo,„d be "'"' "'°"''"'' ' ^''°"W -PPose this made the ruestpa^.;™r'^.r'- ''"' ^^ -■" that she Just she had on han ZZ :'•'"' """ ^'"'^^ '"'^ '"- "ha, Christian or 1 « ! , "'" "™ '"■'''™'°"''' "- - '"■* ""^''^''''y. and in direct contrast witb '2G6 THE COMPLETE HOME. \ \-i ■ I, f| . «■ that is the selfish hospitality of our member of Congress. I do bcheve that man never invites a guest for a meal, a day or a week, unless it is some one who will be of use to himself. Let any one come along, who will be of political service, and Mr. K. opens his house ; nothing is too good ; his servants, his horse and carriage, all he has are at his feet. His wife is never too busy or too feeble to have cake and coffee ready for a half dozen politicians, or an oyster-supper for members of the bar, or a county convention ; but when did any poor, sick, or old relation or widow woman without means, or any little child, get hospi- tality from him ? He offers what will come back to him in some way or another : he uses the hospitality which can be reduced finally to a cash return. When I was spending a winter with my half-sister, I saw a sample of what you may call excessive hospitality. She and her husband were both fond of company ; they had a nice house and a nice income, but they taxed both to the utmost in their entertaining. The children shared the social instincts of the parents. The little ones had a fine play- room, a large back-yard, and plenty of toys ; and they brought in their little mates by the half dozen to stay all day Saturday, or all of an afternoon, or to take a meal, or to stay all night. The older children had their friends by the day, week, or even month, especially if anything was going on in the city which their friends in town or country would enjoy seeing. They had their charade parties, their tableau.x parties, their musical evenings. The parents gave a party now and then. They opened their house every other Friday evening for a reception, with simple refreshments ; their dining-room was a sort of hotel for all their friends ; whoever was passing at meal-time dropped in ; if there was a convention, or literary or ecclesiastical gathering of any kind, they packed their house full of guests. My brother-in-law would ask business acquaintances, almost strangers even, to accept his hospitality for a week or so, while relations came for iSl" ( \ i^osPirALiry .w the home. ^^^ sjx months at a time t;„«„ t.u if the cook's sister orthe? k """'' ^'^"' *'^ ---•' sister, or the chambermaid's cousin or if f h. k • mother were " out of ohce fnr . f .u ^ ''"^ " o .™u„e, .. a„, 3o .he .,che„ a,.„s. Ly, rj^ ^ , shut the house and fled Th ' ^""P^ ^h^" «l'o I" bO to visit them, felt uncomfortable in stpvJn,. a never went arra in fi,«. i ""-aun. m staying, and went again, though my sister said I had been -, rZx . to her. cntertTinmrr i,„ " ^ "^^^^ rest --,,a:;::,t;::zr;r— ---'-'^^^^^ ira\eiica people seems to widen the -^nlipr^ ^f - vatic, a„. e..peHc„ce: ^^^..^IJ^XZl^'' «ome Egyptian traveller to describe to p '"'"^'' '»=" t e„ t7;,'™"°'r""' ^ '="' -..Vaction i„1 fond of corpanv bu " "l ' °' ™'=""'"'"»"- "^"=" « ''^" '- '>-™Sh order of Miriam.: her children a. L^e '...n.e dropped in aBont an „onr bele te::;;: r:- le had to say about it. Our minister took to the suhi, , "^.ndly.and when he was established in his rrmchai '"^ -re all ,„ie.,y busy with our needles, he he d teh • " " thing of this style : * '" ''°"«^- --■e,butitise,ear,;i::rdt:s;ro:."r°^ .'tuT;::ie:a:;:r:rX:r r, '^'■"'- •"^' "°' ^- AnH fl. 1 "'"'^"S'^'^'^- Use hospitality without ?rud-incr' .t t e oL" ; °*'""*^ '■' ""' --'^ -New resta;::. "Is aolu '"V""""'"' *^ ^'-nger within the ^ u?. ^ P« of «>e Jewish household. We have n„t only B,bl,cal injunetion but Biblieal example: Abnl a^ re ...aA,ng three toii-worn travellers passing his si i' •IS a serv^ant waited on h s friipcf-c o„j , . nf T -f J • . guests, and so entertained the LorH L,f and e,t,.ens of heaven. Rebecea, finding a wayfarer « .he well, ,„v,ted him and his train to abide at he" fa.he,Vhou» - beeame an ancestress of Chri.,t; Lot, sitting in h 1 o7 bodom, showed the hospitality learned of Uncle Abraham ,h old man of Gibeah shows kindness to the wayiirerf ,^ ^ ' Samuel sets aside the best meat for gue,,tswho sl.al c . him in the land of Zuph. The priest of M H f " Moses, lives forever i^ the annaC "I tn" TT'" old of Bethany received everlasting life a ' Xo- t"- .n,ng the Lord, and short Zaeeheus easts a ,o„J sl^ owove; gIL tTI V""' '" -^-""^fo' *e P^Phet o n* ■ and fr" ' I"""' " "^ '"'" ''"•" '^» Testament aT^ f /?. ""■'*' •"'"■"°"' ""'" S'-" 'o hospitality a»d dtey had .he.r exa„,ple from their Master, for whent^' i ,#! imti f .1' I m 270 T//£ COMPLETE HOME. young men 'said to him, Rabbi, where dwellest thou? he replied, Come and see ; and they abode with him that night.' Now il hospitahty is a Christian duty, it is incumbent upon all Christians, and this according to their ability; for it is demanded of us ac- cording to what we have, and not according to what we have not. Christ twice fed a multitude on plain loaves of barley-bread and some small fishes ; his blessing went with them and they were enough. We do not read that the blessing altered the variety or the quality of this plain food; it increased its quantity to meet need. We shall none of us be likely to offer then a more simple entertainment than our Lord, but let hearty good-will go with it and it will be accepted, and we need not repine because our ability is not greater. The recipients of our duty of hospitality are indicated to us in the Scripture : servants of our Lord, our fellow-kinsmen in Christ; and then it is said, ' Ye did it unto me,' and we may entertain angels unawares. Our kindred, our friends, have a claim on our hospitality, and especially the poor who cannot pay it again, but whose account remains to be settled by the God of the poor at the resurrection of the just. The hospitality of a home should not have a superfluous mag- nificence and display which overawes and embarrasses the guest, making him feel ill at ease and self-conscious, while the hospi- tality itself becomes to the entertainer a burden too heav>' to be borne. Our hospitality should be easy, brotherly, ready, and offered in that quiet simplicity which gives best opportunity for the steady conduct of our ordinary home-life. The oriental says to his guest, in a flower of .speech: 'All that I have is yours; this is your house, command these servants, do as you please.' The Christian host makes no such .shallow pretension of resigning the helm and headship: he intend.^ to make his guest happy, and to guide his home in its accustomed way. The Scripture makes him responsibic in a measure for the conduct of the stranger within his gates. We should not admit to ouf msPITALny fX 7V/E IIOMP families those wI,o will „„, exhibit to our children and serv.nt, « d.screet example; if through any ex.ge.cy such 7 T an-ong us, the heads of the household shou dTx cLr "T and ,uietl. see that there is no i„rri„ge™e„ro7:r ::;,;* -4. The7hr:i:!:^n:^r;rrr°?"'™ choice and sacred ^uest-lheir F „T ? ""*' "■"= no other guests tor es tett 1 th" ""^ •*°""' ^"°" by the nhrisc '.nH „ ^'"' S'-O'ind is covered conduct of Home K^vi"' ""°*"'"'°-. b"' "nflinching -;ane.ctuai:r:^:~:---- ^i^c:it;r:r;:::r;::;'f •-'-'".- ciosed his o"c. we heard it sitting „t c ::::z:z::z^ ' : Xrtn;''' r"° '"" "''^- ""■' ^ ".aid., „„„ .„e, .„.ea.e„ed ot>^ ^t'^'^ '■;■ -"'''' >'- "0-- of the httle ehildren in ; 'l ' " ^™'':''^'-'' °^ "- 'l"=y are ; he insisted on the best n r '""'^■'-'■'"^>-"«'« ''"Wren piece or furniture, boin, ea n'd „r nT "' "'^"' '""''"'"''' ansrry because l,e was Lues ted to , '■°°'"' """ "" "' "hen his i„eo„,e was Zttt of'"' ™" -"'"'"^^'O^. •o such a pass that the m in,- t sai he" T^'' ""'""■" ^°' ■•i.' p-cew,,s .ereasi„;;c ::• r:rT"'^-'7 our church-members came to .sk if !• , . 7 "" °' ^^^-'M-^'soonertakeaJ:;:'' :^:-"^/f: P'tality. but not to utterly unworthv .Z^ t '^'""^^ ''"^■ ^" be a virtue, so does hospitality/ Ho^;;!; 'i TT"^ """ an exceptional case. "owcvcr, I thmk tJiat uas 18 k < .!. 'i ' vl 274 THE COMPLETE HOME. ri :l When Hester and I were among the mountains, we saw a little log-house where a genuine hospitality was exercised. It was on the road to a logging-camp, and the wood-cutters passed by it on their journeys. Not far from the house was a cool spring under some trees. The good woman of the house had put in the shade some benches ; she kept some drinking cups there, and had had a basin for washing hollowed out of a blod of wood, and she hung near it a good, long towel, which she changed every day ; and here the workmen, hot, and hungry and tired, passing by, could stop, rest, wash their faces, eat their luncheon, and get a cool drink. When we noticed the arrange- ments which she had made for the comfort of wayfarers, she said: "Ah, well, it's little I can do to make the world happier, but I just thought Id like a resting-place on this long, steep road, so I fixed up that, and it's done good to others, and the blessing of him that was ready to perish has come upon me!" Hester was telling me lately of the true hospitality shown to herself and Dr. Nugent when they were travelling in the West. They were driving by themselves, and stopped at a cabin to try and get bait for their horses. It was a plain little place, all the furniture having been hewn out of the forest wood by the set- " tier himself While the horses were eating, the good woman of the house came and asked Hester to rest by leaving the carriage and coming into her house. She brought her a cup of rich milk ; then, unasked, brought a pail of water that she might bathe her face and hands and dress her hair after the long, hot ride. In all that she did she showed an unaffected, hearty kindness, which lent to her acts a grace which would have become any lady in the land. When she saw that Hester admired some specimens of minerals and some woodland curiosities, she insisted on her taking them ; and as inquiries were made about the flowers in the vicinity, she hurried off to bring some which IIOSPITAUTY ,x THE „0.\tE. jjj v!lu ab,?' hT '""^' ""' "'"'" '"°"^'' '° "' -y -- -d' valuable. Hester was ve^^ glad that she had in her portman- teau a number of articles which she could bestow on her hostess and wh,eh were gladly accepted when she learned that, a Hester would find her trunks that evening, they could be well Mrs. Burr one winter, set all our town an example of charity and hosp,.al.ty akin to that of the good Samaritan One afte^ noon as snow was falling, a young woman, accompanied by a boy of five, asked leave to rest and d^ herself at the kitchen fire. Mrs. Burr, seemg her enter the yard, went to the kitchen to ,nqu,re mto her case, and ordered her a cup of hot tea cough, the kmd lady next insisted on her putting on dry ^a,- n,e„ts, shoes and hose which she gave her. Mrs. Burr sa'd „ her servant: " Kitty if you would give that poor little child a hoi bath 1 Have a s„. „f Co.hes that Ned wore long ago, which you might Kitty agreed with alac'rity, and the child, having then a bowl Of bread and m,lk, felt vety comfortable. The poor mother however, looked exhausted and feverish. The storm increased.' Mr . Burr sa,d she could not .send so helpless a creature out in such weather, so Kitty made a fire in a bed-room, gave ,h" mvahd a hot bath and some medicine, and put hir to bed Twice m the night Mrs. Burr went to visit her patient, and early m the morn.ng sent for young Doctor Winton, As the woman ercw worse. Mrs. Burr waited on her as if she had been her ZX ,1 '"? "■"''■ ""■"'"■ ""= *'-""S" d-f- She told home Vt : "" " *"''"'^ """"^ ^""^^ '" h- -ly home ; and Mrs. Burr wroh- to f»,» ^.•„.„...„ •_ .. .,, , . f ...... ..■.,:,it;. Ill inc viiiage which «he .nd.cated. asking him to seek out her relatives, and let her know ,f they would take the child. The minister replied that 276 THE COMPLETE HOME. 11 (< (v ; they would do so, if he could be sent to them, but they were very poor. Mrs. Burr buried the woman decently, and con- cluded to keep the boy, training him for a house-servant until he was old enough to learn a trade. All the village became interested in the poor stranger, and sent things to her while she was ill, and helped bury her. Now that was a hospitality such as Christ recommends, which is shown to the poor, the halt, the blind, the lame, who can offer no compensation, and so the return is left to Him. I think the very poor often set us an example of genuine hos pitality — how they divide their narrow meal with a hungry neighbor; how they share their fire and their shelter with those who lack. One of the most hospitable women in our town is a poor washerwoman. I think in winter she always has warming at her fire some cold little body whose mother is off for a day's work, or some little chap who has nowhere to go after school, or some little working-boy who docs errands, cuts wood and cleans side-walks. There is always a place on her stove to boil tlie soup or meat of some one who must save firing ; she says, " it is no trouble to her, for her fire must be kept up." Two or three poor neighbors would hardly ever get their clothes washed for want of soap and warm water, only she makes them welcome to her suds wlien her washing is done. Indeed, she is a public benefactor, and with no means of exercising hosfji- tality but a small, bare room and a fire, .she yet sets us all an example of a hearty, thoughtful sharing of that little with those who need. One of the most remarkable instances of hospitality which I ever knew happened thus : I was making a short summer visit to a scconcf cousin ; she had a very large house, and a good income. As we sat one Saturday afternoon in the front room, her husband remarked: "There is Mr. Potter, his wife, his mother and his three children. They have come off the boat, HOSPITALITY IN THE HOME. Tir muine hos- and are going toward the hotel, but I don't believe he can afford to pay his way there. Shall I ask them in to stop over Sunday?" "Oh, yes: do," said my cousin, heartily. The good man then ran out and brought in his guests. My cousin was only slightly acquainted with Mr. Potter; he knew that he was a Methodist preacher who had been obliged to cease preaching on account of a bronchial disorder. That my cousin belonged to another church made no difference to him: he felt that all the children of God are one family. He dis- covered that, with very little money in his pocket, Mr. Pottf 7 was looking for something to do ; he thought he had secured * school, and, suddenly disappointed, he found himself with his helpless family on his hands, strangers in a strange place. M,. cousin kept making him welcome in his home, until their joint efforts should secure him a place to labor. In fact, the who/e fhmily stayed a full year, and another child was born to them under this hospitable roof. At last Mr. Potter so far recovered that he was able to secure a small church ; then my cousin said : "Your family is large: leave your old mother here; I can take better care of her than you can." So indeed the old lady stayed, and stayed nine years. My cousin said she never begrudged the hospitality shown her, for she seemed to bring a blessing to the house, as the Ark of God to Obed-Edom. I am sure!' for iny part, that the faithful Lord will never forget to settle such an account as that in the mansions higher up. After our discussion at the Sewing Society, of hospitality, the subject was called up one evening at our Literary Circle. There we sometimes give out a theme, and having distributed strips of paper, each member writes down a sentence, either their own or some quotation, on the subject, and these being read, the various opinions so elicited are discussed. When Hospitalit" was the theme, these are some of the sentences handed in: 278 THE COMPLETE HOME. " Hospitality is the reception and entertainment of strangers or guests, without reward." — Webster. " HospitaUty I have found as universal as the face of man," — Ledyard. '''The derivation of this word is from hospes, a guest; thence hospital, a place for receiving guests, a refuge for those in need; formerly freely applied to schools and endowed institutions of learning : thereafter applied to places for the reception of the sick or injured. Knights Hospitallers were a chivalric order of the middle ages, devoted to the succor of pilgrims to the holy sepulchre, and to the promotion of learning. Their head- quarters were first at Jerusalem, and then at Malta; their defence of Malta against the sultans was one of the most gallant achieve- ments of history." " Hospitality seems to be of the noblest instincts of the heart; a primitive virtue, most warmly exercised in early and un- tutored ages. It was especially a virtue of our ancestors, and si^ems to be rather dying out, than increasing, in the light of C'vilization." "Hospitality: a charming virtue, perishing gradually under tUle inroads of steam-cars and a hotel system." After reading these, and other sentences, .ve began to discuss tJhe question whether the grace of hospitality was decreasing. The extravagance of the present age, the emulation in the style of living, and the false shame felt at living plainly, were alleged as reasons why people now less freely than formerly entertained guests. The increased means of locomotion, whereby the cor- rupt classes of the cities passed more freely from place to place, rendering people suspicious of strangers, and not willing to entertain them, was another reason offered for a decrease in that genial hospitality wherewith our forefathers received each be- lated traveller, and made him welcome to their hearth. Cousin Ann told us that her pastor, a holy old man, years ago, when I/OSriTALITY m THE HOME. 279 two nice-looking young men stopped to ask their way, bad'.: them, as it was late, dark and stormy, to remain all night. They came in gladly, were seated at the family table, and spent the evening in the family circle, chatting pleasantly. They knelt at prayers, when the good man asked for a blessing on the stjangers within his gates. The next day the tempest was heavier, and the two were invited to tarry; on the next day they set out. Three days after that they were arrested as notorious housebreakers. The minister had in his house and on his table a good deal of silver, heired by his wife, his quarter's salary lay in his unlocked desk, but these two Ishmaels of society found all that belonged to their saintly host sacred in their eyes. Mr. Burr said that before the electric telegraph, the steam-car, and the daily paper, people in the rural districts were so far cut off from the news of Ihe world that a passing traveller, judge, schoolmaster, day-laborer or peddler was to the family in lieu of a post-bag of letters, and a whole file of newspapers; the , information which he brought, seeming to put them into contact ••/ith their fellows, largely repaid all favors, in the shape of bed and board, bestowed upon him. From the host down to the .•smallest child, and to the maid in the kitchen, a guest came as a lienediction. Hester reverted to yet earlier times, when wheeled convey- ances were almost unknown; highways were infested with rob- bers, and roails were full of ruts two feet deep ; when books were only in manuscript, or were worth almost their weight in gold ; then a travelling troubadour, harper, or tale-teller, was as the coming to the house of a whole hbrary. The family welcomed him, and gave him of their best, and besought him to remain long; they learned his tales and songs to beguile the tedium of their winters; if any of them could write, they made copies of his parchments, to keep among tl "• choicest treasures. So I M ;i ' ^ * II m I I 280 r//£ COMPLETE HOME. when the early Lollards of Wyckliflc's day began to go about the country, carrying portions of the Scriptures and of religious works in written rolls, and preaching the gospel, they were received with joy; their little books were copied; they were detained as long as possible to instruct the family and the retainers, and thus the hospitality which seems indigenous in England secured the spread not only of learning but of true religion, and the general awakening of mind and independence, which finally led to the securing of national liberty. Thus has English hospitality been largely blessed to England. Mrs. Winton thought that ; instead of complaining of the demands upon our hospitality, we should rejoice in the exercise of this virtue, and cherish it lest it should become as a "lost art" to future generations. That is a very lovely stoiy how Cowper was entertained for years as a guest, and Dr. Wattf. going for a short visit remained with his host for forty years. Mrs. Black smartly retorted that it "would be all well enough if one could be sure of entertaining Cowper or Watts : for her p^rt she would not mind having the author of ' John Gilpin's Ride' for a visitor. But, now-u-days, if one exercised promiscuous hospitality, one might show the most of it to a troop of tramps, wlio were thieves and cut-throats, and to entertain whom, even for a meal, was to encourage idleness and pauperism. She did not wonder that in the light of so many barn-burnings, and with the record of so many murders and child-stealings, hospitality to unknown individuals was falling into a decline and like to die; for her part she would willingly attend its funeral." "The question," said our minister, "is, like many questions, typed by the British Shield in the fable, which had one side of gold and one of silver, and about the material of which it was not well to dispute hotly until one had looked at both sides. There is a usa of hospitality which, like mercy, was twice blessed : blessing liitn who gives and him who takes. There is nOSPlTAUTY m THE HOME. gSl tZ '""^Z '' '°-^''''''' '^-^ "'"" °"^^ '■^^^'^-^ b>^ '^ itinerant .dlene^ rude, ungracious assumption, or received a viciou. wh.ch M.lton draws in the Fifth Book of "Paradise lost' where he represents Eve making ready the entertainment of l.-r guest Adam beguihng the .ay by accounts of the garden-hfe mce the creat.on. and both tl,e first pair seated, attentively hstcnmg to the discourse of their guest. Winf" .'h'''7 '''""" ' ^""^ ^"' "'^ ^^-^'" -'d Mr. Wmton. has always been considered very sacred. The Home spreads Its a^gis of protection over all who come under its roof- to murder or rob a guest, or a host, has been esteemed the very extremity of wickedness. The wildest Arab protects him who has eaten of his salt; if one of our Indians offered the calumet of peace to a stranger and led him into his wigwam, then he was that stranger's defender until he went forth in peace The I-ev.t,cal law forbid returning to his master a fugitive slave who had made one's roof his refuge. The most reckless of the Afghan robbers will protect to the utmost a man who is his L'uest even though he should be willing to waylay and assassi- nate hmi after he has gone out from under his shelter. I have never read of any land or tribe where hospitality was unknown and truly this grace of the barbarian should shine better and brighter in the civilized man and the Christian. Let us make a ponit to cultivate it, especially in our families, so that this virtue and the blessings attending on it, may descend to our children's children, and that Hospitality may revive and not die out in the nineteenth century." But I think that one of the very choicest forms of Hospitality .s one that peculiarly belongs to people in the country, or in small villages. Of late th. charitably inclined in cities have been appealing to those living in rural districts to receive into I ! r ^ in Is! 'I'fl THE COMPLETE HOME. ■k.-:JL their houses, for a little time in the summer, the worn-out, indigent workers of the city, or poor little city children. Seamstresses, shop-girls, tradeswomen, exhausted, needing a change of air, unable to pay for such a luxury, would have minds, bodies and hearts revived by being accepted as unpretending guests, ready to take the plainest room, glad to lend a hand in home-work, thankful for a share of the ordinary family meals; city friends would pay their travelling expenses ; the farm-house would not find itself encumbered by one or two such visitors — indeed, the healthful, peaceful life of the farm would grow more a id more beautiful to country people's view beheld through these admir- ing, wondering eyes of the honest city poor, who revel in a dandelion or a daisy, who esteem buttcrinHk the choicest pos- sible beverage, and a live chicken a thing to gaze at by the hour. What draughts of joy and health these weazened chil- dren from crowded, narrow city streets or sunless attics drink in the glorious country! They may live to be healthful, cour- ageous men and women by virtue of these tumbles in the hay, this going after berries, and driving home the cows. Cousin iVnn every summer has a succession of such guests, and the toys fitted up three little rooms over the tool-house, making most of the furniture themselves, for the accommodation of three more of these strangers sent by city clergymen aiui friends; ')V'hile for a month every summer the best sp.-r,>c,n Is occu- pied by some city missionary, to whom costly summer resorts would be an impossibility. It makes no matter if Reuben and Ann have not met him before: he and his wife and a child of -> . e welcomed as kiasmen in Christ Here indeed is truo IK. .pi' 'My. ,7"'! r I «^f»*' CHAPTER XII. FRIENDSHIPS IN THE HOME. AUNT SOPHRONIA'S VIEWS OF THE COMPANY WE SHOULD KEEP. DO not think our village is worse than any others; but surely it is not better than others in the matter of keeping children and young folks off the streets, and in good company. As I went to Helen's lately, I found Ton. frolicking in the street with a number of little fellows who havo no advantages of home-training, who fight and use bad words. I took Tom with me to his own house, and when he was safcl3r playing in his own back-yard, I began to reason with his mother concerning him. Having mentioned the boys with whom I had found him playing, I asked: "Now, Helen, does it seem to you that God has given Tom, in the birth which he has assigned him, any advantages over these children— any better oppor- tunities?" " Why, of course, he has," said Helen. "And then, are you not rcckipssly throwing away for Tom this birthright, are you not nullifying these privileges, by casting his lot in with these less fortunate ones, subjecting him to their temptations, putting him in the way of the evil example which they find in their homes? Little Teddy Buck has no yard to play in, no home but 3 grog-shop. Society which is better off does owe Teddy a helping hand, but a child like T „ is not the proper missionary. Tom will learn evil of Tedd> , nd Teddy will get no good from Tom, Tom has been allotted by Provi- dence a nice yard in which to play, but in permitting him to run the (283) liMHINt 284 THE COMPLETE HOME. Streets you put him as far as you can in Teddy's place, and sup- ject him to the transmitted evil influences of the bar-room. Tom is happy in having a father who would use no profane nor vulgar lano-uage, but you allow him to associate with Jim Green, whoso mouth is full of the vice and blasphemy which he hears from his father. You would be shocked at having a gambler like James Wall admitted into your society, but here youi )wn son, ' playing for keeps' on the corner, is learning to be what you loathe, Mike Flannagan is coarse and dirty. Suppose Tom asked him into your sitting-roon> ? You would be angry, and yet, as we grow like our associates, you are allowing Tom to grow like Mike Flannagan, and by-and-by, instead of a son to be proud of, and' a companion and protector of his sisters, he will be a foul little ruffian, fit only to disgrace you." " Oh, aunt," cried Helen, tears in her eyes, " you are too severe." " No, my dear, not a bit. This is plain, hard truth, which other people would not venture to tell you, but in a few years, if Tom turns out a reprobate, these same sinfully silent friends would say : 'Ah, I knew how Tom would turn out : from the way his mother let him run the streets, what else could she expect?' Now I tell you in time, so that you may take counsel and escape trouble." " hut, aunt," said Helen, putting herself on the defensive, " we cannot keep our children always from contact with the world, nor from the evil that is in it." "Very true, but God gave them homes and parental care, to be their shelter, until they are established in virtue, love truth, and can resist temptation. The child's training is always different from the man's action, although it .served to fit him for it. \'c>u strengthen the child's stoma'^h on milk and on delicate fooii, that it may grow capable later of digesting moat ; y>cA\ expect your child to walk, and because you expect that, you do not set J FRIENDSHIPS /A' THE HOME. 285 a child of a week old to bcari-icj its weight on its boneless legs, or you would have not an athlete but a cripple." Hester had been sitting with Helen, and she added : " Plato 3ays, 'A young man who is good is apt to be deceived by Others, because he has no pattern of evil in himself: therefore a judge should be advanced in years, and his youth should have )oen innocent, and he should have acquired experience of evil •Uc in life by observation.' What is good for forming a just judge is good for forming any man. and here the demand is for .'Ml innocent youth, .segregated from vice, and learning of evil, not by crime-committing and remorse, but by seeing its effects upon society in general." " Oh," said Helen, " I sec you are both against me. I cnlv wish you knew how crazy Tom is after some one to play with, rmd how hard it is to keep him within bounds." " My child I " I exclaimed, " the very hardness of the ta.sk shows you how needful it is to perform it. ' If it is hard now, if Tom is left to the freedom of his own will, by the time he' is fiteen he would be pa.st all control ; and that it is hard does not l--sscn your maternal duty. Consider the u.sefulness of Tom's life: all the happiness of your later years, the credit of your fmiily, the well-being of an immortal soul, hang on your per^ formance of duty. Oh. that you might see that duty now as clearly as you will sec it if ever it becomes too late to see and do." "Cousin Helen," .said Hester, "don't blame Tom for being fond of playmates and company. Man is a social animal ; the child only shares the nature of his kind. You do not desire Iiim to be a hermit or a cynic, although that would be better than a rowdy or a criminal. If he is to .sway men or succeed among them, he must begin by leading the life of a citizen, not of a misar.thrope. Doubtless there are mothers who have seen sons go to the gallows, or the penitentiary, or have r III " '"if vy l.:\| W >' 286 TJ/i: COMPLETE HOME. followed to a premature grave the victim of debauchery, who, if they had been true to their maternal task, might have seen their children standin'^ in the highest places of state, or church, or science, and dying have been followed by the lamentations of a whole people." "Why," said Helen, "you speak as if it all rested with mothers, but some who have had no mothers or have had bad mothers have done very well." " We see now and then in nature," said Hester, " unexpected or abnormal growths, developments which are exceptions to a usual law, but wc expect what, conforms to the law. From 2 poor stock a better scion may spring ; but rule is, good stock, good scion, and we do not trust to poor stock for better things If I tossed a valuable bulb or root out on that garden-bed it viight take root and thrive, but I should be almost absolutely certain of its thriving if I carefully planted and cultured i' according to its kind. Do not, Helen, try to escape the fac t that parents are the architects of their children's future. Socrates said : 'A golden parent may have a silver son, and a silver parent a golden son, or perchance the son of a golden or silver parent may have an admixture of brass or iron.' But all this, my cousin, will be because there entered gold, or silver, or brass, or iron, into parental training." " But," .said Helen, " I do try to train up Tom as well as I know." "Helen," I said, " consider this reasonably; you try in the house to make Tom a gentleman ; you check a bawling tone, you cultivate a polite reply, you reprimand him if he calls names, and you arc pleased if any one notices that his manners are refined. This you do in the house, half an hour or so; then he goes out on the street, he whoops like an Indian, knocks off the cap of some passing child, .squabbles over his marbles, and flings dust in the face of his opponent, and finally relieves his mind by ti:; F/ilEA-DSmPS /A' THE HOME. 287 gelling at him that he is ' a dumb old blunderbuss ; ' then dodging from a stone thrown in revenge for the epithet, he stumbles into old Mrs. Petty, hobbling along to visit her daughter, and almost throws the dame into the gutter." " He deserves a good whipping," cried Helen, indignantly. " But, Helen, he was acting exactly like the company which yon alloivcd him to be in ; he merely yielded to the temptations of the position in which you had placed him. In his own yard, playing with lads of your choice, Tom would have done none' of these things; your letting him run with wild, bad children destroys your own teaching. Suppose you do teach him the Commandments: if you let him play with children who, in his presence, break hourly the third, the fifth, the ninth and the tenth, the example will be far more potent than the precept. We are members of a fallen race, Helen, and evil seizes on us with a far stronger hold than good. Helen, your own conscience shows you your duty : do not let pride or indolence ruin the soul of your son." " But what shall I do ? " cried Helen. " Why," said Hester, in her matter-of-fact way, " here is a card ; now write down on it the names of four or five boys who in your •'iew are fit playmates for Tom. Then call in Tom : tell him it is «me you made new rules for him ; that hereafter he cannot play outside of his own yard, unless -it is in the yard of some one whom by your permission he is visiting. Tell him these boys •named on the card are the boys whom he is to go with, and if the circle is increased it will be by you. Tell him that jou shall permit no infringement of these laws ; and inasmuch, Helen, as you arc not very forcible in maintaining your rules, \\\ advise you to lay the case before Frank, and have him positive!)' re-affirm this judgment." Helen, with a few suggestions from us, wrote her card and then sent for Master Tom. As he was coming, she said to I'H, , k J" 288 T//£ COMPLETE HOME. .. I, Hester : " You begin the matter : you know how to get on with boys and I don't." In came Tom. Said Hester: "Tom, I'm going to take a boy out to Cousm Ann's to spend the day to-morrow, and I shall pay no regard to relationship in choosing him. Shall I take you or Mike Flan- nagan?" " Take mc," .spoke up Tom, confidently. " Why, what better claims have you ?" asked Hester. " I've — I've got the best clothes," said Tom. "As for that, I can easily buy Mike as good a suit." "Oh, come now, Cousin Ikster," argued Tom, "you don't want him round a lady like you. Why, Mike swears awful, and he uses such grammar you wouldn't know what he was saying; and he lies — oh, you couldn't believe one word he said to you all day!" " Humph, a pretty boy for you to be playing with ! How long will it take you to grow like him ? If you run with him much longer, are you likely next year to be any better company ' for a lady ' than he is ? " Tom crimsoned and hung his head. " I'm not like Mike yet," he mumbled. " I did not think you were acting very unlike him when I brought you off the street," I remarked. Then Helen showed him her card, and laid down her new rules, with more authority than she u ually shows. Tom .stood* looking perplexed, but Hester went on smoothly as if it were part of the plan. "And as you will want to have a good time in your own yard, you are to have a row of pop-corn of your own planting all along the back fence ; and the top room of the woo6-shed you can clear out for your boys to have shows, pan- oramas, and .so on, in; and your father is going to put up :,ome poles and such things for gymnastics for you, and when hot FJ!J£ms/l,PS If, Tim /JOME. 2g„ weather comes, I ,„,c„d to lend you n,y sraalle.,, lc„, ,o .c „„ "; your yard, for your use. If you wi,, .ak= care of it. ll t » .ould be soro. to suggest the dreadful things which are ]il,>w,„-c„ ,ac.ed „car.frecdo„, l:tz :^>::;T:r r- - -^"»" - s: 1:7/;:;: - ;::t: :: becomes, under the influence of some si !v f. • ^ 7 ^ '.ash. We should „o. a.low our children intinracies wift .ho« ]f'!t*'!'^''^ I J i ■ If I i'ij^^ln 298 rJJ£ COMPLETE HOME. who are brought up in a dangerous moral atmosphere. We may have in our homes strict temperance principles, and we may inculcate these upon our boy; but if we allow him an intimacy at a house where wine is constantly used, with a lad whose f ither esteems temperance fanaticism, and who scoffs at pledges and temperance societies, we destroy our own work in our child's heart, and give him over to the enemy. So, if we try to make our children careful respecters of the Sabbath, and allow for their friends those who make visits, give dinners, read idle tales, or go out fishing, driving or gunning on the Sabbath day, we build with one hand, and with the other tear down the moral strength of our child." " Well," said Mrs. Black, as the three rose to go, " I wish I could put some of all these good things into practice in manag- ing the friendships of my young people, but I suppose, as usual, I shall end with wishing." " In that case," returned Mrs. Winton, "you v/ill not rise to the measure of your maternal rights or duties." I remember having some talk with Hester on the subject of the benefit the friendship of a cultivated and well-regulated Family may be to other people, who have not the advantage of such a household of their own. I think we ought to take into the circle of our friendships those who seem lonely in this world; God is a God of strangers, and for his sake, and for the sake of common human sympathy, we should bind to ourselves friend- less hearts, because they arc friendless and need our kindness. A good home owes it, as an expression of thankfulness for its own hajipiness, to try and make up something of the lack that is in other homes. Hester said she had often known instances where the children of irreligious, disorderly, uncomfortable homes, had caught their first glimpse of the beauty, the good- ness, the s;}nr.t!ty of b,nm<\ hy b'-^ng .atlmittt^j! to -m acquaintance with some member of such a fortunate family. Led by this fUm^'Dsmps IN THE HOME. jfia example, they struggled toward that sweetness and light w'ieh ^.^ cc„ .h„s revealed to thenr, and had reaehedah ; -'luch tl.e,r parents never knew. Many a youne man 1.! V -cued , on, destruction, and won on lol Z .7 t r ^ taught how to attain domestic peace and sor,,,- , v ■ Punty and happiness of son.e yLn; r.,;,. tl ' ''""' ""^ In a Christian Home," said Hester, "there is the highest TeioTe „:r''"" '"" '""= ^' ""' -'y '"'"-- ^- ''^^ hornet """"""'°" ^"'"'^ S™""' Guest-that If;UsrM,°'f ■':"' "°"" ^=— city or God, and upon walls, and prospenty w.thin thy palaces; for „,y brethren and con,pa„,ons' sake I will „o>v say. Peace be within thee Sonrettntes , ,„..,te to „,y house for suppe-r .and for the oven- ">. all th young people of the neighborhood; the Jiurr, the VVn ons the young Blacks, Cousin Ann. unn,arried childr^ a I the young people eon.e to „,e about onee a year, and enjoy e„«elvesvery,„„ch. All the younger children invite for n afternoon n, strawberry-ti.ne. Lately , had .nyyoung p^opl together, and after a while they began to talk abo'ttheir M ,d Some sa, they had but one real close friend outside of e^ own fannhes; others royally laid clain, to a do.e„ or tw ^ They <,uest,o„ed how long friendships were likely to Last N ^' »..rr sa,d ,f they were true friendships, not passi g fa„c , .h , wore part of «,e best things of the hear, and wou d last f„; v r rse vet if he had been living in the same place wi th them, and all at the same time, he FRIEXDSIUrS /.V THE HOME. . uOJ cou,d^„„t have expected .„ eo.n. aem.™„, his „ost i„.i„,a.e Whereupon one held that sympathy and similarity of tastc, made t e ehief bond of friendship; while another dedar d . we preferred our unlik-es, and that the first bond oft nd «s to find a person possessing so„,e traits wh.h ver aet T n ourselves. Gentle natures elun, around stron^e tjl ° n ents; a eart brave for any fate, and equal to anyLe C:- " finds the less capable taking refuse in its stren„,I, ■, • -., and not roel. to rock, a! so:::::!' 'o e'^dir: wt :r: "hT '"rT' '° '"■' '"-'^^ '■'™ -'- -..CO, uf,J--^^^^^^^^ on tile old gray towers of AltnviVI- c *" .-o„r...,,,„,----nen^^^^^^^^^^^ »l..ps between man and man, or woman and woman or „n a' d~ thT '^""•'"'■°*-^^p'-p''>'p-iaim:, ■;: ?r:X "■""'=" ""= "'"" -P-^^>^- °f 'ove, and „,en of' ....i._ofr::~--- n 1m fa„; , "^r" '""'' '" "'= ■''™-< '"a. woman, B.w.i:';dr;:r nVCc'rr :" 7- - "- Jae. for the .sraehtes : by it sh'etcan ttrl ' Wh:::,',': "' -get the friendship Of Catherine Douglass fo: her e ;' L; I d" "■'^"^-^-'- -ade of herown\,,i.e: :: bar for the door until that arm was broken i. Sl.nl ^ii^'xrvT""^"'--'^-"- Ilermia; ' ' """ ""^ ''' ^^^ °f ""'™a" and !!^ ( I t , 302 THE COMPLETE HOME. •' ' Both warbling of one song, botii in one key, As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds Had been incorporate. " "Yes," said Sara; "and where did friendship have a more complete expression than in those ' Ladies of Langollen,' the I^ady Elcanore Butler and Miss Ponsonby? who, forsaking relatives, fortune and society for each other, with one faithful servant, retired to a small cottage in Wales, where for fifty years they lived' in unbroken friendship, and were finally buried, friends and devoted servant, in one grave. Such a friendship we see between Madame de Staiil and Madame 'Recamier : these two accomplished women endured for each other's sakes danger and exile ; by each, self was forgotten for her friend ; courageous in adversity, faithful unto death and beyond death, they proved true that ' a friend lovcth at all times.' " " That," said Hester, " is a pretty story told us by an old M-riter, Thomas Heywood, of a fair maiden named Bona, who lived in a cloister with a dear friend. This maiden friend lying near to death, Bona laid herself by her side, and earnestly prayed God to take her life also ; and, in truth, the two died on the same day, and were buried in one grave. And Madame Swctchine is another instance of a woman capable of enter- tainin^x ^^inccre and lasting friendship; and Lacordaire speaks thus of her friend, the deaf mute farisse, in Madame Swet- chine's fimeral sermon : 'As we watched the sad setting of that beautiful star, I saw her beloved mute following her with her eyes from the adjoining chamber, the vigilant sentinel of a life which had been so lavish of itself, and whose life went out with faithful friendship on the one side, and grateful poverty on the other.' Madai.ic Swctchine's life was full of friendships." "To the rescue!" s.iouted Ned. "They i.v'crwhelni us with instances ! Let us retort in kind. Who has not beard of the friendship of David for Jonathan, and of Damon and Pythias? ^f^IEA'DS/f/rS LV HIE HOME. .^q.. PhHoc!!'^ '" r "''''""" ^"' Agamemnon, and (T.dipus nnd Walter Ralegh for Philip Sidney, model of a kni.htly ■...»?" "^-.; cried another of the young nien ; ''.nd what an Honest fnendship united Horace and Maecenas! The poetic soul of Dante leaned on Guido Cavalcanti. and seven years of ex:le were .spent by that greatest of Italians in the house of the Lord of Ravenna. • Rare is it/ .saj-s Dante. ' for exiles to meet -tn fr.ends. We see, also, Petrarch flying fron. a world whe -c almost every chord fell jarringly on his over-sensitive spirit, and ,n the shades of Vauclu.se finding consolation with his nend Plnhp. It is said of Petrarch that 'his friends idolized 1-n. and welcomed him with tears of joy as if he were an angci. "I do not remember." said Diclc, "of a finer trio of friends than Colendgc, Wordsworth and Lamb. Chopin, the com- poser was a man sickly, ardent, irritable, to whose over- wrought mind even ordinary hTe was an intense pain. He was a man to suffer until he went mad, unless some shield could be mterposed between him and the world. Such a shield" he found m his friend Liszt. P^or years Liszt sheltered him from cnt,asm. and business care, and curiosity; soothed him in death; and finally became his interpreter to the world by vvntmg his life, showing what, among the jarring discords of us c,,stence. had been the tender harmonics of his soul. M.Iton, neglected by his daughters and unloved by his wife bereaved of Cromwell and taunted by the Duke of York, found' consolation in Andrew Ma.-vel_perhaps better fitted than any man of that day to syn,pathize with his aspirations, his r- scarches.or his lofty imaginings; while a healthful quaintness and quietness of spirit kept him fresh and strong. So many and devoted have h.en the fi^icnd.hips of men, that f,cn,U^p ims been by some asserted to be especially a man's emotion " I "I >. '•'»!(' Ifl ■■;r '.'liEl i \ ' 1 I" t ; 1 304 7//iE' COMPLETE HOME. " There is a third party to the contest," I said, laughing. " I will tell you of some remarkable friendships between men and women. Beyond the natural love of brothers and sisters was the tie of friendship between Charles and Mary Lamb, and between the poet VVhittier and his youngest sister, of whom he writes : " ' But still I wait with ear and eye For something gone which should be nigh; A loss in all familiar things.' " The element of a lofty friendship entered into the married life of Lord and Lady Rusgel, the Arctic explorer Franklin and his wife ; also of Roland and his wife. Shah Jehan, who set up over his beloved wife the Taj, that ' dream in marble,' the won- der of the world, records in it friendship as well as marital love. Auguste Comte declares that the finest ideals of friendship are exhibited between man and woman, but Sydney Smith says that few of these instances have been shown by Saxons. The golden-mouthed Chrysostom was cluored by a saintly Olyni- pias, and St. Jerome was helped on his way by Paula. Doubt- less the gracious Apostle John was comforted by the friendship of that godly mother of a godly household, whom he greets as the Elect Lady. Michael Angelo's genius took higher flights, inspired by Vittoria Colonna. Dr. Donne devotes his finest verses to his friend, Mrs. Herbert, the tnothcr of the quaint, sweet poet; by the death-bed of Locke bent his friend. Lady Mashem ; and Cowper would have been a wrecked man without the friendship of Mrs. Throckmorton, and Lady Austen, and Mary Unwin. What a contrast of character met in the friend- ship of Hannah More and Garrick!" " I have arrived at sonic conclusions," said Dick, who had been diligently dotting down idja.; on a sheet of paper. " Listen. Friendship is one of the noljL;st emotions of the heart; it has divine warrant and example, and is needful to our proper moral FRIENDSIIirS m THE HOME deveIop„,e„.. ,t Is capable of elevating us by a worthy object ■ m haste, ,t may be repented at leisure. Parents should with good ,n the home ,s g.ven a broader circle of influence. Friend- 11 .;:: ':""" "^^^ "'^^ °" "^-^'^ -^ ^"-^-^^^^ ,t tno 1 : '" """'= ".very virtue of the difference: ■t has no hmits of age, of race or of sex. True friendshio is no..her selfish, fickle nor established for self-interest d a U only counterfeit friendship exhibits these qualities. A "e" Tn : r "r "; "'""' ^-^ '- ^"--"^^ ■■ ^™- -■-' y or .nsens,bly, and ,s lasting as the soul which feels it. Friend- ■P .s the peer, the "noble brother,' of love. Friendship has been equally exhibited by both men and women, and has given equally remarkable exhibitions between man and woman m^ and man, woman and woman." And M ended our long talk about Friendship. t. { CHAPTER XIII. GOOD MANNERS IN THE HOME. WHAT AUNT SOPHRONIA THINKS IS FAMILY COURTESY. I^RACE WINTON came in to see me for a little while yesterday, and when she left I fell to thinking of the remark made by a famous essayist: "A beautiful form is better than a beautiful face, and beautiful behavior is better than a beautiful form : it gives a higher pleasure than pictures or statues ; it is the finest of the fine arts." Grace is lovely in face and form, but lovelier still in her manners. Now, in what does this charm of manner consist? Is it that she understands ^nd puts in practice certain rules of good-breeding, which have obtained place by the common consent of society for many years? It is something higher than that — it is what Dr. Witherspoon explains as " true courtesy, which is real kind- ness kindly expressed." I remember when Mary Watkins was a little girl, Mrs. Smal- ley, her mother, came to me one day, and said : " Miss Sophro- nia, I want Mary to have good manners, and to know how to behave herself when she is away from home; I wish you would tell me of some real good book on etiquette." "If you wish Mary to have really good manners, Mrs. Smal- ley," I replied, " don't let her see a paper or a book on etiquette It has been well said, ' The effect of books on etiquette is to make one think of himself, rather than of others; while thinking of others, rather than of self, is the essence of true courtesy.' ury a book crowded with rules as to how to COOD M,.V.V;.^s W THE HOME. ;"- »"'■ »"-^-' ran, ;. *e';: • c;r ;:r - ''^™''' P'oporly in .i,„p,e K-,„d„,3, ,„ ^ J ^ 1^^^ '^ f^". - to reply " Well, but how will Marv learn T ""^ '° '""■' . "GcoU ™„„ers, Mrs sl errtrrT" " " yoars. Vhey are not things vvh.e c" n b T '"°"'™"' '"' 'lo'vn at pleasure Thr„ , '"''" "P ■''"d l^i'l - -r ,..„„„sphore wherever we are' I ' mI' si" ""' "' ""cial life amontr tho fr„i .T . ^ P'^'' '''"''""t of '"'"■ The nrst !nd h 2st1 iTof """": '"" '''^'- -" '° ^= »'>•■''''- thy „,,!,,,,„ ;j.°/;;^ n-ners is, .Thon toolc on c„urt-.,v is H,. n^! . °"'>' "^"^ '"''"'bte others, to enltivate C^H "'" "" "'" ™y disturb -™es.rcon::a;;:,::,^::rbl:ttlr="-*^■^ -«inK the ordinary topies of the dw !l . "'",'" ""■ -ill "".= .he „„„,berless little actt JnH y^ '"''"'"'"'' ■"■•">- ..P Bood n,anners, and w I e Lr. ,r ™""' "'"■^" nen-s or afl-eetations. The fi L "! I """'°'" ""•"' K""^- c-n„.esi;., onife"' " "'"^ ""-^-^ '■' -" P"' ■•" P-c.,ee ^1 III ,: ;,-| il m 308 T//E COMPLETE HOME. Mrs. Smalley suffered herself to be persuaded not to %(A Mary a book on etiquette, which, probably, would have made her merely affected and self-centred: a sort of puppet, not spontaneously doing the right thing at the right time, but going in rotation through the practice of certain half-apprehended rules, which would not fit one-tenth part of the circumstances in which she was placed. If we went to live in France, we v'ould wish to know the French language, so that we could understand all that was said to us and know how to reply. We should not wish to trust to learning by heart a phrase-book, the sentences of which might or might not suit our needs. So good manners are to be the language of our homes and of our lives, and not a mere phra?e-book etiquette which might or might not fit our exigencies. Parents cannot be too partici'lar in training their children into good manners from their earliest years. If such training is neglected in childhood, the early want will be patent all through life. The parent can hardly give the child an inheri- tance which is more valuable, while in itself it costs nothing. In the business of life, I know nothing which has a higher pecu- niary value. " You paid a hundred dollars too much," said a gentleman to an insurance agent, who had been settling with a lady for the damages of a fire. " It was her valuation," said the aeent " She believed it to be correct, and I could not question it : her manners were so perfect. It would have been money in my pocket if I had been dealing with some rude boor." " Manners makyeth men," wrote Wykham, an ancient author, and a lapse of years does not make an alteration in this testi- mony. We hear Emerson rising up to declare : " Give a boy address and accomplishments, and you give him the mastery of places and fortunes wherever he goes." A wealthy gentleman brought into his library a costly sub- II!.'' Ill .mm COOD MANArERS W THE HOME. „.q 5Cription book. " Mv de-ir " «-„vi u- -r copy of .ha. .or'J ^^ij:^ ^^f'l " ^^^^^'^^^V had a ™anne. of ..e ,ad who soM J^^Jlltl' .l"' ""^ true pleasure .o purchase ,.." ^ ' ""' " """* " If we wish to mould clay, or nlas.er „r P • any shape, we ™us. no. wai.' „.iu a°f hl:^ I' 7 """'■ '""' into the mould, for .hen i. will be full o „? f " "" ■"" " and Will not we., take .he dele orm T f™"'"""^'^'' mould the ho-,rf .„^ -A- ^° '^ ^^ wish to nnti. a i,; ■ raff!; 'T T' ™"""^' ^' ""=' "« "" ^ i-Jiiia IS half-grovun before we bcn-m f-li« <■ ■ • -"- begin with .he ,ou„, chiW. G S i^ JaT"'"'' • .*' smile and a loving word .h-,^. „, , '"^^ "'"' ^ Teach it to .a.e ^^^Z. T:^ ^^ ^r T' «tur„ .ho look and word of thanks. Ccl ^ "' '" treasures, to pity and soothe any one who is 7l, . ' ^^^::;re^^::r- ?^--^ -earehuLrdsoLyrte^L;;;;^^^^^^ ^-eniyfeei;,:.torm::::::::^,r::rr--'- they can only be manly if they starnr, t 7 "" ' """ bawl instead of speakin'g, .e TJ „ h7fo T ^-^'^^ -"'-*-^'. thcvnll ,> f -I , • "^"'^ 'o"^ Iheir own way— and inc Doy, that good manners are of the imnI.V«f ^f that there are a thousand gentle and 0^ '""'^ "^^^ ' Ion. to true .en. and not totp,: Z ~^^^^ ^- ^...toboww.hgrace.tobe,:ickand!:bt^rtc:^:: a serv.ce, to use respectful language to avoid „/ '""^^'"'^ "^ and haste, is to be ..ntlem.n!^- \t- ""'^ ""''^^ to be a boor FrCnt P^"'"' '^^'^^ graces is boor. Frank, genial, graceful, self-forgetting manners 310 THE COMPLETE I/OME. I Will make up for a lack of fortune or beauty, ana their possessor will be welcome wherever he goes. Helen has been very particular to train her children to be polite, and she was greatly tried when Tom reached the crisis which I have just mentioned, and thought when he laid by knee- breeches and rocking-horses it was time to dispense with good manners. He was fond of teasing, and he teased Hannah and his little sisters and the cat and the baby. I had a talk ^vith him one day about this. I told him it was a mark of a shallow, weak, unmanly spirit to fiqd pleasure in giving annoyance. I taught him what Wordsworth says : " Never to blend our pleasure or our pride VVuh sorrow to tlie meanest thing that feels," and then I gave him a little book, where I had him write down several sentences on the subject, as: "Fair manners are the mantle of fair minds; " "Civility costs nothing, and buys every- thmg;" "A true gentlem m is recognized by his regard for the nghts and feelings of others, even in matters the most trivial; • "A rude man is generally assumed to be a bad man." "But, Aunt Sophronia." said Ton, "don't you tl.ink that people sometimes act worse than they feel ?" "Yes," I said; "a man's manners may be less gracious than h.s heart is true and kindly, but incurably bad manners are the outcome of a bad. thoughtless, cruel heart. Take notice Tom that the well-feeling man does not tryio act worse than he feels' he tries to act as well as he can. No station in life, no poverty no lack of cultivation, can force a person to be ill-mannered' Some of the most polite and graceful things that have ever been said, and some of the most truly polite acts that were ever performed, were by poor, unlettered people, whose acts were the outcome of generous, sympathetic hearts." Hesfer, who was sitting with us. said: "There are many r possessor GOOD MANNERS IN THE HOME grown persons who need to be taken to task, as much as Ton. for finding their pleasure in hurting other people's feelin-^s Ho calls h.s way teasing; they call theirs satire; in conversation they thmk themselves very smart and bright when they are nd.culmg somebody, turning their remarks into triflin^. sneer mg at their opinions, or telling some unkindly anecdote or trying to bring into notice some unpleasant circumstance Now these people, either as writers or talkers, are not half so clever as they think themselves. It needs only self-conceit and malice to discover flaws. Talent and generosity are needed to recog- nue talent and generosity in our companions; all is discord to an ear that has no idea of harmonies, but it needs a musical ear to delight in music. These satirical people are generally really ignorant, and talk sharply about others to prevent any searching of ..eir own shallowness; they are cowards, too; if you notice, they never attack those whom they know to be keen wUs, and able to repay them in their own coin but their victims are the timid, the young, the ignorant, the very ones whom courtesy would urge us to encourage, to entertain and console. The old duellist, we say. with his order of ' • .- -I iiiL, ui.. parents m^v snuuid atay ms stop.^ ; but that law he has not been taught to revere, and he holds it f'i tf 'H 1^ 318 r//£ COMPLETE HOME. lightly. The commandment of God should be a lamp unto his fjct, but that he did not write reverently on his heart. The teachings and example of the good should be his guide-posts, but those he never revered, nor meant to copy. "What a grace he lacks! and instead thereof the flippant leer, the affected contempt, when possibly earth holds nothing more contemptible than himself There is no dignity in one who knows no reverence ; honoring nothing, of course they do not honor themselves. Growing up all one's days in a reckless irreverence, it is a strange lesson for them to learn to worship sin- cerely the Lord their God ; if saved at ail, they must be pulled out of the fire. This irreverence sneers at faith ; it thinks it foolish to be believing and of a tender conscience; it is attracted by the bold and bad. There is a deal to foster this irreverence at the present day ; many parents seem to have agreed not to demand the honor which is their natural right; they do not train the child to respectfulness, to yielding honor where honor is due. There is a bad tone in young society, and boys and girls are allowed to wander out of the safe restraints of home into this loose-speaking, and thinking, and impudent (they call it bright and witty) company. The land is flooded with a literature of saucine.ss, not to mention here the literature of open vice. The literature of sauciness always praises the sharp youth at the expense of legitimate guardians; the old are treated to light names and ridicule ; decent restrictions are called 'old-fashioned notions;' pertness always succeeds; the heroes and heroines look for no higher guidance than their own wills. Fed on such literature as this, youth becomes as weak and frothy, but possibly not as harmless, as a bottl of root-beer. Lay it up as a principle. James Frederick, that the less you respect, the less respectable you arc ; the less you honor, the less in you is to be honored. There arc those ' whom not to know argues one's self unknown,' so if you have no reverence in ^'- - .If I .. I J, GCOD AfANA'ERS IN THE HOME. acter. One is weak anH . ^"^ '" y°"'" °^" ^har- wuc i.s weak, and vain and n-nonnf- fi, of a fool than of him. «nora„t_there ,s more hope "Measure yourself by this rule: 'With what ,.„ mete, it shall be measured to you again Wh! , '" *'"" and noble to be admired, obeyed coL > Ah tr 'T '™'' without you, but -Mm., ^<.,./ AndT 1 ,^ ' '"* " "°' . without reverence is to bo f„ I .1 ^■°"' ""'= >"<"■* 7--o.da,e;:n*:rrt;:r;::;;;rr^"'**- the bad Tl e v!"th ■ I "''' '"^ '■"™'"» ••""• '"'""g "" -aseh,msei;r::XtXpa::rrr''^-''-" your hear, this grace of reverence. ^"'™'' "'"' ■^" "And as you know mc to be fr-ink m c. i • you a,^ interested in le 1, \ P'™"° '" ''"". "«' « clearly set be ore J 7," ' "'*"' ''■ ="'' *='- '<> '«- one who i olde? o b " '""' '''' ""= ^"« '° -"- '» instruction!. '""™"^''' '"' ""' ^'V 'o vouchsafe Now, while I notice and deplore this 1,^1, r far from thin.in, that in these'd X. t hatetr™"' ' ™ who properly respect their elders Tlu ' '« P"P'° Jeremiad over the a,e in whic L thi';:! """ '"'", " people suppose everything in the world t„ h """'" "'"'' was when they were ,.„!„ 7 , """■'" "°" "»" " world as it looked ^th :•.."' '""' "'""'"*" *= looked to older ;irT„r::,.r"^ '?--<'--• •-".ht;.hoyaresatis.ed;ithth^-:-:-^» 320 THE COMPLETE HOME. m. companions, and looking back all seems to have been very sat- isfactory. A second reason for this exalting the days of the past is, that year by year communication between ail parts of the country becomes closer; we know of the manners and doings of more people; we hear of all the evil that transpires; and thus becoming cognizant of more evil we hastily decide that there is more evil in proportion to the population than there was for- merly. Besides all this, I think we are more apt to brood over what is bad, than to rejoice in what is good : we sigh over fifty young people who are going astray, and we forget to be glad over the fifty or a hundred who are doing about as they ought. If I begin to think that our young folks now are all wrong, I have only to go to Mrs. Winton's, or Mrs. Burr's, or Cousin Ann's, or our minister's, or plenty of other places which I could name, to find families who are all that the most exacting could demand. I was so pleased with Cousin Ann's Dick a fortnight ago. I had stopped to see Cousin Ann for a few minutes in the morning, and she was seated on the back-porch with a large pan of potatoes to pare, as it happened that it was a very busy time, and all the other members of the family were occupied. Cousin Ann chanced to say, as she look up another Early Rose, " Really, if there is one kind of work which I particularly dis- like, it is peeling potatoes!" Dick was sitting resting on the steps. " Mother, my dear," he cried, " there is not the least need of your doing what you dislike when I am on hand to do it for you ; behold, how beauti- fully I can pare potatoes!" so jumping up he took possession of pan, basket, and knife, and began peeling the potatoes as quickly and evenly as his mother could have done. I said, with all my heart : " Dick, I had rather see that ready helping of your mother than to hear that any one had left you fiv'e thousand dollara; I believe it will be of more advantage to you in every way, for a blessing always follows good sons." GOOD MANNERS IN THE HOME. ggl That cheerful bearing of one another's burdens, that ready courtesy to each other, has always distinguished Cousin Ann', fam.ly. lier household is a.ways busy, eheerful and healthful I th.nic much of their health is derived from their cheery activi- ties Every meal there is a sort of festival, and it is a treat to s.t down at their table, no matter how plain the meal is The neatness, taste and order with which everything is served makes 't a luxury. I said as much to Cousin Ann several times. She rephed to me one day: " I have always thought, Sophronia, that a deal of health and of family affection depended on our way of takmg our meals; in a family like ours, where we are all busy about one thing and another continually, we do not all meet except at meals, and in the evening. Those are then the times when we must cultivate our acquaintance with each other I t.y to have the table, as our meeting-place, very attractive to"the eye ; to have it orderly, so that our chat shall not be interrupted by looking for needful things that are forgotten, or by jumping t.p and running about. I like the food good, and well served^ and people tidy to eat it. None of our men folks come to the table unwashed or unbrushed, sleeves and trowsers rolled up and boots just from the bam. In the entry-room, near the sink where the brushes and towels are, each one has his own nail with a coat t., wear at meals and a pair of slippers. There is a whLsk-broom for brushing off their clothes, and while it hardly takc.s more than five minutes to make the change, it sends them to the table looking neat, rnd feeling rested and refreshed I thmk it is needful to health and comfort to avoid coming to the tabic ovcr-tired; one cannot then look or speak cheerfully nor d.gest well. Now, after the work and worries of the field the shppers rest the feet; the washing of the hands and face cools and refreshes; the change of the coat, and the brushing, seem to B.VC a change to one's feelings, and we all get to table ready ta torgct for a little the work that is going on. and to talk about liiLia^ UiS 322 r//E COMPLETE //OAfE. anything pleasant which offers. I try and have some subject for good conversation, just as much as I try to have good food. If there is a nice story, a good, kind-tempered joko, some nice anecdote, I have encouraged the family in keeping it for meal- times; a good laugh, and a flow of cheerful talk, helps a meal on wonderfully. I will not have troublesome topics brought up at meals, nor any disputing ; as far as possible, we avoid talking of the work ; we take time for our meals ; it don't pay to hurry one's eating ; if you save in every month the time of one work- ing day, by cutting down the proper time of meals by one-half, you will in a year be sure to lose more than those twelve un- justly-gained working days, by dyspepsia, headaches, fevers, cholera morbus, or bilious attacks. Give proper time to a proper and cheerful meal, and the day's work will move on with as much again of vigor and good judgment. We like to have friends at meals with us ; we don't consider it a trouble to put an extra plate and chair, and we ask our guest to partake of just what we have; a welcome, friendly guest makes our meal twice as valuable to us ; we are the gainers and not the givers." " You have always been very hospitable, Cousin Ann," I said, " and I think, on the whole, you have by hospitality gained as much as you have conferred. Your faniily are accustomed to good society; their manners are easy and refined, fitting them for any circumstances in which they may be placed. They have never needed to run away from home for society; they are acquainted with all the popular topics of the day; they have formed their opinions, and their opinions are valued by their neighbors. They are looked up to as an important part of the community." " When there was company," said Cousin Ann, " I did not let some one of the children run and hide; I never sent them off, on the pica that they were not dressed for company, or because COOD MAN.VEliS IX rilE HOME. g., Xr ; ''" ^"' ^"-Mhey wore presentable and I knew that the shyness would grow with indulgence. Reed w„ the n,os. d,ffide„t of n,y children ; he would aLys have g ad'^ run to the barn when he saw visitors co„,ing, and prefcrfed „ ose a nteal ..her than co^e into the presence T^^ el. sorry for the child, but knew it would never do to enco' ae feehng ; ,t would be harder to overcome the older I e ^ However , „ade it as easy as I could for hi™, and wl J .h"' dreaded bc>v and shaking hands were over, he s a by me nd helped on h,s share in the conversation, so after a .Le h be came as soaal as any of us. Dick, on the other hand, r iced ;" f:;:: :,; t'T'" r^^ *™''' ™^>-'°° -='^.- "^ - ' o .nterrupt older people; to present his views before his elders- to cut h,s joke no matter who was cut by it, and he had h J com,cal way that he was laughed at and petted by strangers and that made him more forward. It was a, difficult'.o reprr,' D,ck to proper limits as it was to bring Reed up to themT. are -" ■" a hfet.me, and such cares belong to our parental posl ..on,a„d repay us in the end. As we sow we reap; he who sows spanngly reaps sparingly, and he who sows b untiflj! reaps bount,fully. Many sisters and mother, who have „o^ hougl^ „ worth while to cultivate and develop the awk v,rd ^™«^ boy, find themselves after a while with n'o one Jg "^ w,th hem when they desire an escort, and no one to help the entertam their guests at home." * While I do no. think that the young people are less genial and kmdlyin their ways and feelings than tl,ey have een „ pas. generations, , do think that there is a gig o ,. o . e r:,rc:"irr "T"°" '° ■"" ''-■ -'« hand t,.;- r '° "'""'• '^^"'^ '» ">° "'"eh of off. tand takmg for g.„,ed that things are right and agreeable. J t m 1' aM THE COMPLETE HOME. I ' > 'ih When among t!ie crowd of modern youths you see some young man carefully formed by his mother, on some stately, gracious, old-fashioned model, he is at once a marked man for his man- ners and always a favorite. Mrs. Winton's two sons are marked wherever they go as " distinguished in appearance " simply in virtue of this scrupulous training. They do not make a bow by pointing a finger in the direction of the hat-brim and raising their eye-brows, but the hat is lifted and a bow full of grace is really made, and this by no means in a stiff, sc i'-conscious way. They do not take a stranger to a house without asking per- mission from the lady of the house. They do not dash along the street and pass by some lady of their acquaintance who is about to open a gate : they open the gate, hold it open while she enters, and then close it. They do not meet one in the street, and amianly confer their company for a walk unasked. When they see any one leaving a room, they rise and hold open the door for them. Leaving church, they do not rush to joke with Ihe young girls, and leave some old lady, or decrepit gentleman, to hobble down the steps alone, but their best courtesies are first for the feeble and the old. So many young men have politeness only for dashy young girls, none for the elderly, the plain, or the poor. Those Wintons would never have thought of leaving their mother or sister to go to and from some evening meeting unescorted, while they ran to offer their company to some young lady. They attended always first upon their mother and Grace. Indeed, their care of Grace was charming. They did not allow some lad to accompany her in order that they might bestow their attention elsewhere ; but as long as they thought her too young to enter general society, she never went or cane under other care than theirs, and now ■ they exercise a scrupulous supervision over all the young gentlemen of her acquaintance: a young man must be marvel- lously well-beha,ved to be admitted into Grace Winton's society. Lately as I was walking along the street 7 saw North Winton, . GOOD MAJVJVEA'S IN THE HOME. 326 on horseback, looking up at a window and lightly kissing his hand with a very devoted expression. "Why," I thought, looking toward the window, "with whom is our North" so enraptured ? " I saw at the window his mother, and it brought- to my mind the pretty little poem of" De Leon's Pledge." Last winter we h- I - series of lectures delivered in our vil- lage. They were all srcvy interesting and instructive, but I think I liked be it .ne on social culture. It was very plain and practical. Sor.rr of tlic thoughts were these: It is in general L,.dly believed that if hearts and heads are right, vianncrs will be right also. And yet sometimes, owing to forgctfulness, unfortunate examples, or other minor causes, per- sons' manners are less pleasing than their hearts are true and kindly. Permit, then, a few words on social culture, in two or three rules which will serve equally well both at home and abroad. First, Be sincere. It is not needful to good manners that we use as current conversation those common fictions which many deem essential to maintaining a place in good -society. We should not say the thing we do not think, always remembering that we are not called upon to say all that we think. Why seem to be very fond of Miss Jenkins, whom we like the least of all our acquaintances? Why tell Mrs. Jones that we shall be charmed to visit her, when we really do not mean to go ? Why urge Miss Smith to come, when we wish her to keep away? That kindly smile which is due to the human tie, that placid grace which is due to yourself, will make you polite to these without resigning sincerity. And here be sure you do not indulge a hard nature by saying hard things and calling it honesty! We are bound by the Golden Rule to be both sincere and gracious. This is the first rule in good manners, " To seek that august face of Tratk Whereto are given The age of heaven, The beauty of immortal youth." I ^ r 326 77/E COMPLETE HOME. '' f The second tiling is— ^^ sympathetic. At home and abroad, no quality will make one so beautiful and so beloved as sympathy. If we cultivate sympathy, we shall be reverential to age and tender to childhood. Sympathy is more often the product of a strong than a weak nature : people who are half educated and imperfectly cultured make the ignorant, the timid, and the sensitive feel wretched in their presence, and enjoy making them feel so ; while the accomplished scholar, the well- balanced heart, throws over such the jEgis of liis strong pro- tection, and first of all succeeds in making them feel comfortable. Now this sympathy is akin to another fine social quality, which I cannot too highly commend, and that is, self -forget- fulness. We cannot be truly sympathetic to others while we arc absorbed in ourselves. We cannot even be self-absorbed and be sincere, for self-centring makes us dishonest to ourselves. Be self-forgetful. " Seek," says the Apostle, in that best book on etiquette that has ever been written— the Bible, "not every man his own, but every man another's good." There is nothing so graceful as this self-forgetfulness. Egotism is always awk- ward ; it blunders, or is stiff, or nervous, or affected. Only in self-forgetting can one be interested either in other people, or in their subjects of conversation ; and if we are not good listeners, we fail in one very important way of making ourselves agreeable. This self-forgetting is a good quality which improves with age. Whittier paints such - spirit : " Who lonely, homeless, none the less Found peace in love's unselfishness, And welcome wheiosoe'er she went. A calm and gracious element, Whose presence seemed the sweei income And womanly atmosphere of home." Being self-forgetful, let us also be thoughtful. Of all things, let us not be oi -hose who rattle on without thinking or knowint? wlut they arc sayin- This thoughtlessness is most dan-erous GOOD .IfA.VJVEA'S m THE NOME. 337 >:::,:: :r"°" "" """'"'"■"'' >'">«»« convcjeic, below .he H., „fduc„,.,3 ,„,„ .,« of assassins! Don' ' u " tlnit docs not need cxcusiiirr VVN.fi t . ., • ^' fi • . r. ^-^^u^ing. vv liat ! am I talkintr of vci v littl<> o;t^.r''"''''^^''"™'"°^'''''-'''"«^- '--i^t ,, "■'"■, '""'"'''J' ''•■'J ■"»"""», mam,crs i„si„ccrc unsy,,,- pai.c.,c..„o>,,„u.ss „. o,„„,.,, ,„„o„.,„,„,„f ^ ,•; ;^ Therefore wc „,a, put „„ exhortations on social cn.tnr o one precept, and say: He Christian, and in proportion a, Sracons ,nn,d of the Master abides in you, his ' iiseip e h r.c an gentle, ,h„u«h.fu. ofo.hers, forgetful of self, i 'ovin, ery ,a en. ,o its „t„,ost, you will always c.hibi. the v ry l^s' of prood manners. ^ ^ ill our were yoiinfT tl'o leading ideas of the lecture, and I was glad people heard them, and I hope that, young and old. wc shall be apt to put then) in practice 328 THE COMPLETE HOME. ■41 ^1 :i ii' ii' i L telTBlTT ""' w Belinda Black came to spend a day with me, and we had a good deal of discussion as to what was ladylike and becoming to a young girl. I impressed it on Belinda, that whatever was good and becoming should first be used at home; that fine man- ners were not to be kept for strangers, to go on with our good bonnet, and be put off with our best gloves; but the grace that suited a stranger's table suited our own ; the cou-tesy which pleased friends abroad would please parents and brothers and sisters at home. "A woman," I said, " who goes about her house slipshod and untidy, in a soiled, ragged gown, and only once or twice a year gets fuhy fitted up in her best clothes, will be sure to feel awkward and act awkwardly in those unwonted garments: so good manners which are not of cvery-day use will fit us but illy, and we shall be ungainly in their exercise; people will see that we have only put them on for show, and it will serve us right to be thus betrayed. As good manners arc welcome in all places, .so they are suitable to all times. Some people need to be up three or four hours before they can find their cheerful civility; they are well-mannered from noon until night, and ill- mannered from rising until noon. Never come down-stairs cross." "A great many people do," .said Belinda. "I often do; all things look dull, I feel dull, nothing .seems likely to turn out well, and I can hardly speak, I feel so fretted." "Then," I nid, "you mu.st have been sleeping in too clo.se u room, or have sat up too late, or eaten too heavy a supper; you should search out the causes of these things and destroy them, and then these unpleasant effects will cea.se; your gloomy face and reluctant v/ords will make all the family dull, and the d./ will move heavily. When you feel in this captious or heavy mood when you rise, try and disperse it: throw up your window, step about briskly in the fresh air, toss your bed-clothes to air, wash your head, arms and chest thoroughly in cold witer, and GOOD MANNERS LV THE HOME. 339 rub With a coarse towel; draw and expel deep breaths, so as to fill your lungs with pure air. and send oxygen through your blood. Then you will feel bright and hopeful, and be able to speak and act politely wh.en you get into the breakfast-iooni " "Well," said Iklinda, "I shall remember that. Now tell me of some of the little things which you think especially rude-the little thmgs which we are most liable to do." "One is a habit of singing and humming in the presence of others. I knew a young woman, very nice and well cducaf^d too. who. whenever she was not absolutely talking, would go to humming tunes. If she walked with you. and a silence fell in the conversation, she would hum. hum. hum, in the most annov- ing way. It is pleasant to hear one singing over their work • but where two or three are together this humming like a huc^J bumble-bee may prove very trying to somebody. There too "is that other habit of shrill whistling, indulged in by boys and sometmies by girls. I like to hear a boy whistle and sing in the fields or along the road; but it is very ill-mannered for him to come whistling into the fan.ily room, or to sit whistling shrilly W' the group gathered on a pia.za. We are ill-mannered ^^hen we ignore the fact that in this world we are not monarchs of all we suivcy, dwelling in a lodge in some vast wilderness; but we are e;.oh one of many, and we must act so as not to irench upon the rights and comforts of others. We can law- fully exercise our own privileges only in a way not to interfere with our neighbor. It is rude for children to plav, race and bawl on the street corners in a manner to disturb the people in all the adjacent houses, and no well-conducted parents, who desire to have their children become prosperous and honored citizens %'.!! for an hour permit this. It is very ill-mannerly for a group of young girls to go ogling, laughing, shouting, loudly talking, and calling each other's names alontr I3elind, I, one who has a ri-jht to the the streets. A true girl, name of lady, docs not ;f 330 THE COMPLETE HOME. V v 1 desire to call public attention to herself. She must be sought for. She does not parade herself to general view. She is care^ ful not to act or dress in a manner to make herself remarkable either for oddity, display, showy colors, or extravagance. Ilcr dress and her manners are simple and refined. Her good taste- regulates her tones, her words and her actions as well as her bonnets. She quietly does what she thinks she ought, and has a large reserve power of intelligence, wit, accomplishment, kind feeling. She does not show forth at one glance all her posses- sions, as some people who set all their silver forth on their tables at once, but she has an untold inheritance and acquisition of val- uable things, which will only be discovered by a long acquaint- ance, when day by day slie will surprise you by liaving a depth of strength, and culture, and lovingness beyond your previous discerning. Such a girl is like an inexhaustible gold mine while many girls are like the bogus mines, started by some crafty speculator, who has scattered a little j^old and quartz along the surface. "Another point where young people often c .nibit great i'l- manners is in a restiveness to reproof A„ older friend rebukes them for some awkwardness or rudeness, and instead of accept- ing the reproof in kindly .spirit as meant for their improvement or as a thing which can be used for their good, even when given irritably, they are vexed, and proceed to justify them- selves, or are forever angry with the reprover. They forget that open rebuke is better that; secret love; that the wounds of a fnend are better than the kisses of an enen^. This restiveness to reproof I think often hinders elder friends from making to the j-oimg such suggestions as would be of service. I knew a young g,r! once, who from carelessness, bad c.xanip . ' r lack of watchfulness in her teachers, had fallen htc ^n ral bid habits which were ruining her manners. A wise, elderly lady look her apart, and said to her: 'My dear, you have some rude GOOD MANNERS IN THE HOME. 331 ways which will much injure you. When spoken to you often cry. « Hey I " or " What ! " You often nod or shake your head by way of answer; you fail to look at the person who speaks to you, or to whom you are speaking, and you are too bold in your manner of expressing a dissenting opinion.' "Now, the young girl mi-ht have been vexed at this reproof though kindly given and wisely intended by one competent tJ instruct. However, she took ,t in the kindest spirit. She felt that if one person saw these flaws, more must see them, and that It was well to know of them in time to check them She thanked the lady, told her that she hoped she would always suggest to her when she was going wrong, for that hitherto no one had noticed these errors of ipanner in a way to correct them. She desired to be a true lady in her ways, and gladly laid hold on any means of improvement. As you may fancy, so eager and docile a pupil made rapid progress, and she became soon graceful and thoughtful in her manners." I have no doubt thai Belinda, who is ready to learn was benefited by this talk on good manners. It is a theme which I often pursue with my young friends. Good manners are to a lad what beauty is to a girl, at once attracting an interested and kmdiy feeling; while to a girl good manners are infinitely more valuable than fine dress or sliowy accomnlishmcnts. Chesterfield says that the art of pleasing is the art of rising, and this is largely true: for some must rise in life in evcrj' generation, and naturally those will rise who are ready to aid and please others and so become respected and popular. We will not give our business, our votes, our aid to one who treated us surlily; we will strive to push him down lu make room for the man of courtesy. And this flower of courtesy, choice as Arabian Spikenard, should be planted, cultivated and gathered in the Home. nil * • 1 1-^ i 4; J CHAPTER XIV. METHODS OF ■'■V'ORK IN THE HO>lE. Tfi? S^-.\^ AUNT SOPHRONFA THINKS WORK SHOULD BE GONE. '^^v C,OLT>TN of Doctor Nugent, a surgeon who is in charge ^A ^ nf .1 State Insane Asylum, lately spent several days in our (g^ vil..-i.je, anJ Hester invited me to m;'ct him at tea. *^ fc During the evening the conversation turned on the causes of insanity, "What," inquired John Rochcford, "is the chu f root of the madness of your patients ? " " It would be hard to say," replied the Doctor, " for causes are so many, and often so nearly equally distributed. We have many whose mania is hereditary ; as many more, perhaps, who are victims of alcoholic, opium or nicotine poisoning. Severe illness has dethroned reason in some, and sudden shocks, losses in business or family, or deep sorrows, have sent us other unfor- tunates. I notice that when any one passes, from excitement on religious subjects, into insanity, the unbelieving make a loud outcry over it, insinuating, more or less boldly, that religion is in itself dangerous and unsettling to the mind; ij^noring the fiict that victims of ' religious insanity ' are those whose natural tendency is toward madness, which excitement of any kind is likely to develop; and that the disturbance of tlep- mind has been not a true religious idea, but abnormal or ■ 'y fancies; while there is nothing more soothing to the i tlian real piety, and dou ' ' s it yearly preserves their , to tlu^usn of minds, whieii v/ould be thrown off tL I (032) usands alance by the METHODS OF WORK m THE HOME. 333 painful circumstances of their lives, were it not for tins fountain of- hope and refreshment, this roclv of strength " " How is it about students ? Have you many hterary people among your patients ? " asked Doctor Nugent. " Less ^of severe students, perhaps, than of any other class The mmd occupied with questions of science, or philosophy, or history, has no time to become introverted, and brood to dis- traction over its own developments. I have many patients who are v.ctims of what I am inclined to call paralysis of the reason • mdolent young women most of these, whose minds being unfed gnaw on themselves and shrivel away." " How is it about work ? '• asked Hester. " Does hard work send you many victims ? " "Work, like religion." said the Doctor, "has been called to endure many false accusations. I have had more patients sent to me by .dlencss than by hard labor-of these, girls especiallj. Boys brought up in the terribly dangerous position of idlerV social dro.es, by the ve^^ muscular activity of their make find something to do: they become amateur boxers, boatmen, ball- players Society does not profit by these things particularly nor will eternity re^ much harvest by them; but at least they will serve to keep these young fellows out of the mad-house where many of their sisters may go. The young girl with nothing to do begins to dwell upon herself in nervous intro- spection ; she becomes hys-rical : hysteria makes her an object of notice and sympathy in the family; she indulges more and more her predisposition to it; it masters her, by degrees passes mto mama, and she is fit only for an asylum. I have had more than one or two cases of this kind, where the pains, and what we ."ay call the social disgrace of madness, would have been escaped, if the girl had been brought up to sweep and dust to make her clothes, to bake the family bread and pastrv ^- ' luother's houseke L'pci father's book-keeper. I i 334 THE COMPLETE HOME. ( > "As to work, Mrs. Nugent, it is the normal estate of man since Eden : we may say it is man's natural condition, as Adam was provided with occupation even in the blessed garden. Now what is natural can be borne : God did not establish us in a lot in life of which lot the natural tendency is madness. Work, lawful work, does not dethrone reason: it strengthens both brain and body. Over-work and iindcr-rcst do send many patients to us; but man must blame no one but himself when he destroys the proportion which God ordained between our time and our labor, our working and our resting. Suppose I hire a man to do a week's work, and I give him food for the week ; inspired by avarice' he sells the food, and works fasting , before the week is out he drops exhausted and soon dies, when it was open to him to use both work and food, and reach the end of tlie week a sounder man than when he begun it. If I hire a man to move some iron, and to save time, as he calls it, he piles it all in a bi" barrel and, lifting it at once, incurably injures himself, who is to blame for all the crippled years, when he might have been hale and tougher from his work? "A man goes to work in a field in midsummer: at noon he is warned to take one or two hours of resi, to cool himself to eat, and then resting again, go moderately at his work for an hour, increasing his toil with the cooling day; instead, he presses on m madder and madder haste.taking no noon rest, but panting on in the hottest sun, with some vague idea of getting done earlier in the day, as people do who work themselves to premature death, striving in haste to accumulate a fortune for their age, an age which they never reach. So the man whom I am imagining, over-hurries his task, and dies of sunstroke before the evening falls. The trouble is not that people must work— not even that m the sweat of their brow they must win their bread— but that they set themselves ta.sks which neither God nor man required of them; tncy sequestrate for their absurd ends the hours God unmoDs OF work m nm jwm. 335 .r,™ ";';■"'''' ''*'™ *°"'^*=' °f f-O- -. -hat Is much c m., or „„e ,0 digest their food-they die, or go mad The tmnble I,, not woik, but over-worit •• ' ' ^ '"''°- '"'' ■•n.,t," ,aid Hester, "are there not some mothers of lar^e hi-lp. who ,iro forced to over-workf " •rJJJmh "T'' '" "■" ''""•" "'" "" °°«-. "'="• "- we w r ln°™ " ■"" """ "'""'• ""=' ' "=" >"- a- over, work g„ -rally means, ,.w„„„ y „v/„ ,„„;„^, ,^ nV. «../«. ascend the stairs of a tower a hundred feet JZ bu ,,«Tr: Tr'""^ ^""""""^ *=--for,hedtab, s. r 1 , r " """ "'" "'* ^" y°"' '"■»°'" "P *os m ;r f'"' """"""^ '" Ae wind on top; turn and or ave no time; you don't begin to know the time c.r irne"'^" ^^^^ ^ ^^-'^ ^^- - ^^-^ ^— -h da, at th: "'Yes but tJiat costs money, and I feel that I ought, o lay up all I can for our children.' ^ •■•Look at the matter practically: call i„ your arithmetic. If yo d.c of over-„orW a houscKceper will cost five doll.rs a week, ,f you go to an asylum, consider the expense- the seam .tress would be cheaper. ,f yo„ kill yourself by und r rX you dr,v. your husband to a second marriage. L three orl"; M ha^-brothers would materially reduce your daughters' por- t on,. The rest and the seamstress by whom you get it are nlrf "k rr"" """ "">' °""^ =""--™''>'-=- Mothers ar- not to be bought in a market at five dollars a head ■ "These sharp remarks were a revelation. The lady agreed to U.e seamstress, and to her friend's prescription of the three ■ TJffT 'T""7 "■= "^^-^-^^ ''-^'- "-."-- .t off to walk. I said to the h'tsband: • This case is in good hands thes, three hou„ daily, spent as arn>„ged now, will save your Wife; and they did." could not possibly be .saved by the mother a familv and where It would be also impossible to hire a seamstn.s" "' " That ,s true," said the Doctor; " but three hours each day . may not a ways be needed. It was the last ounce, you know wh.c broke the camels back, not the last hundrL-wei^^ Wha I contend for is. that people generally d^ not know the pnce.ess value of their physical and mental health, until they have squandered it; nor do they realize that a little saving in care and labor, a litth- r^st a '•■^Mr rhn m mentally o physically ruined. I* I t I', rjd J M 23 easy-chair, an occa- * A tt 338 r//£ COMPLETE HOME. sional quiet hour, a day's visit, a pleasant book, the being re- lieved from some petty, oft-recurring task, may save a brain or a heart just on the point of exhaustion. I think all over- worked women, if they examined their tasks, feeling that there must be a saving made, and that saving must be in their own favor for their own recruiting, would be surprised at the result of their scrutiny. Why, I have seen thin, haggard, worn-out women, who were perishing for rest and recreation, instead of taking that needed rest which would spare them to their fami- lies, actually sitting for two or three hours each day darning into fine, fancy patterns the quilting of a bed-spread! This fanciful quilting would not make the quilt warmer nor make it wear better, but it would make it fine. A million times better spend that time in the garden raising flower-seeds, or in the yard raising chicks to sell, and buy counterpanes, if they could not be had without such management. I have seen women sit- ting up late at night knitting lace for their parlor curtains, or ornamenting children's clothes, when the. hours thus stolen from rest would soon send them under the church-yard sod, where neither lace nor ornaments Avould benefit them. I have seen so many of these foolish sacrifices that I feel hotly on the subject. This ignorance is a Moloch destroying hundreds of our house- wives." " Some one," said John Rocheford, " ought to write a book on the subject, and tell women how to do what they must do, so that it shall be most easily done; and how to discern between the needful and the needless, that they may spare themselves for better things, and live out their rightful days." " The book," said Hester, " would be well enough, if people would read it or heed it, but it is very hard to bring folks to give up rooted and perhaps inherited notions. We do not take much warning of our own mortality in seeing others die, nor of our own weakness in seeing others break down: we think J IT It '^^^ ' ME7IIODS OF n-ORA' LV THE HOME. 339 2 |--1 the sprin,. of life stronger in us. We strain and ben.I the bow unt,l .t snaps, and then leave olhers to repeat for them- selves our folly." "I have often wondered," said John Rocheford, "at the dif fcren, ways in whieh women do their ,vork; a,, indeed, .he voo^ tod and fa„g„e. I remember onee I was out with a party „f Bentlemen on a survey, and we happened on a rainy summer week ; the first evening we took refuge in a farm-house AsTe were we., and there was no stove up but in the large neat k,tchen we were seated near that to d^ ourselves, while the housewfe got supper. Wishing to give us something hot she made flannel or griddle-eakes. By the time the eakes were n..xed she had a bowl, a eouple of saueers, a fork, spoon and pan m use, and her baking-table pretty well eovered with sifted flour, h gnddle then being greased, she brought her pan cake-batter, and w„h a large .spoon dipped some upon the gnddle; desp.te her eare, some drops fell on stove and heart every t,me she greased the griddle she went to and from he; table w,,h the greaser, and then to and from the table with h mg ,h tea-table. a eup, a plate, a knife a. a time, between whiles of puttmg on and turning and removing her eakes. She was nearly an hour in preparing her supper, and an hour in elearing .away, for some fleeks of batter had fallen on floor, stove an! table; she had soiled a good many dishes; her table was to serub; her stove to rub up, and before all was in its aceustomed order the good woman was hot and exhausted „h7';°/T' r™'"' ""^ '■"*"""' ='"'°=' ='<>«ly similar; a„- ol„rt,dyk,tehen sheltered us from the rain, and its mistress baked akes for our supper. First she wen. to the china-elose, n tray, an„ put.,ng the tea-dishes on it, in but two journeys 10 the closet her table was nieely set Then with her .^y ,,h. vm, ut I . J ' I !) ' 340 T//E COMPLETE HOME. visited her store-closet, and brought to the table at one trip butter, bread, cream, preserves, cold meat, and so on. That care being off her mind, she put her griddle on ihe stove and opened the draught. Next she went to her store-closet for material for her cakes. She mixed the cakes in a large pitcher, with a strong v-gg-beater. First she put into the pitcher the buttermilk and soda ; then she beat the eggs on a plate and turned them in ; then put in the flour, salt, and other ingredients ; when the batter was ready the baking-table was unsoiled, atwJ only a saucer and an egg-beater lay on it for washing. She set open the oven-door, and stood within it two plates for her cakes, and the dish with her greaser ; then she rubbed the griddle well with salt, and so only greased it about one-fifth as much as the other housewife, saving smoke and trouble. She poured the cakes upon the griddle from the nose of the pitcher, so saving all dripi- ping, and between whiles she set the pitcher on the hearth, so that she had no journeys to and from the table; in fact, .she never left the stove while she baked, but stepping back a little from the heat she chatted with us, and in half an hour from the time when she began to get supper she had the meal all on the tabic in an orderly room, and when suppei was ended she cleared it away in half an hour. Tliere was no stove to poli.sh; no tabic to scrub; no .spots on the floor were to be wiped up, and the work ended, she resumed her white apron and sat down on the porch in her rocking-chair, evidently knowing how to rest, as well as how to work." " That's it; that's it," .said the Doctor; " the thing is to know hmt) to do it. Mothers should not be content to teach their daughVrs housework, but how to do it in the quickest, nicest way; not merely instructing in the ingredients that form a pound- cake, but how to use the fewest utensils, and the least time and troubio in compounuing it ; sorrxe vvorneii, .'inu {lelieatc wofnen too, have a fear of seeming tasy in work. Whose business is it ' METHODS OF WORK IN THE HOME. 541 hew iheyscem if the work is properly done, and their own health and comfort are cared for? Are health and comfort things of small account ? We have societies for prevention of crueUy to animals and to children : I wish we had a society for preventing housewives and house-mothers from being cruel to themselves. They think it 'looks foolish' to lie down in daytime; it ' looks lazy- to sit while they pare vegetables, or mix cake, or wipe dishes, or polish knives; it 'looks extravagant' to cover their working-tables with oil-cloths, and to use plenty of mats and rugs, and ammonia, or borax, or soda for cleaning, instead of driving all their own failing vitality into scrubbing-brushes. And by these false ideas of ' looks '-I wish the word had never been heard of-thcy reduce themselves to invalids who must lie down all the time, or the over-active life er.ds in premature death, or the extravagance runs into doctors' and druggists' and asylum bills. How illogical we humans are! as I look at my patients, I often think we are all a little mad!" "You impress me," said Doctor Nugent, "with the enormity of an evil which 1 never before rca'ized. The book which Mr. Rocheford suggests should be written, and Aunt Sophronia, who knows how to do all kinds of housework in the very best manner, must write it." " Thank you," I replied ; " I am quite too old to turn authoress, but I feel the great importance of what has been said, and I am resolved in my little sphere, here in the village and the countiy around, to try more and more to impress on my young friends the need of taking care of themselves ; of having a little reserve strength laid up for emergencies, and not every day over-drawing our account on vitality. As has been said, the trouble lies in ignorance, not in labor. It is not that there is too much in the world to be tlone, but that wc do not know how to do it; we our work less by having a right way of perform make Method is the time and strength-saver, and to bilking, boiling and di.sh-wash:ng. ng It reason is to be applied 7*1 1 J|i r i Ml 342 77r^ COMPLETE HOME, How much and how often have I thought of that evening's conversation ! What important themes it touched, and themes so often under-estimated ! We do not hve in a lazy age : it is an age of activity, and yet of poorly distributed activity often. times, where a few members of a fliinily arc striving t> do the work of all, and fathers and mothers, or conscientious elder daughters, are doing the share of work lawfully belonging to indolent and over-indulged juniors; the one party getting too hiuch and the other too little rest. I notice that these active people, when they are really over-worked and worn-out, attribute their weariness to any cause but the right one ; they will not face the fact that they are over-wrought and need repose, that the nerves kept at their best tension for too long a time must be relaxed by amusements like little children's. I remember once hearing some one asV . '"-'mous authoress how she managed ta execute such n .... i . .miount of work; and she replied, • Merely by kncv. vr ':nv* w',: proper times to rest and to play," and a friend of hers i.^ld me that she believed this was the secret, for she had seen her when tired drop into a state of such perfect quiescence that she seemed rather like a piece of restfuj statuary than like a living organism ; and that out in the woods, in the mountains, by the sea, or by some mountain stream, she could entertain herself with all the abandon of a child. Oik; of the most famous of the superintendents of our State Lunatic A.sylums says: "We all know that a steam-engine, calculated to do a certain amount of work in a day, will wear out very rapidly if forccil to do double that work. And as the human body is composed of a variety of the most delicately constructed organs, each designed to perform a certain amount and 'character of work witliin certain limits, and in a .specified time, so every effort to compel these organs to do more work in a pivcn time than they were designed by their Constructor ta do, will sjKJcdily derange their action and give rise to disea.sc." 'f (I'lrtl METHODS OF WORK /X THE HOME. 343 I And still there comes that cry, especially from house -mothers, that there is a certain amount of work that they must do, and it is an amount which is wearing them out. The question is first tc sift the work to the really needful and the fairly required, and then to know how to do in the very best time-and-labor-saviny methods that which remains. For instance, when it comes to this closest question of labor-saving, when only one pair of woman's hands are ready to do a family's work, and that woman must have resting time, let her cut off scrupulously all labor that is for mere ornament, in dress and furnishings ; let there be plain hems now; by-and-by these little girls will have grown up, and these boys will be old enough to help more, to bring in less mud, and to wear out less clothes, anil then you can have fancy quilts, and toilettes, and pillow-shams, and aprons, and underclothes. Only try now to spare the mother to train up her children in helpfulness, kindness, courtesy, home-loving, and it will seem after all but a little whilr^ until the problem has solved itself; and to-day's little hinderers will be to-morrow's little helpers, and you can have ^ hat you now crave of pretty Uiings, and are now by your common-sense denied. Again, *cse over-ta.\cd housewives forget that there is rest to be gained in many ways : First, by change of work. Don't stand at the ironing-board until you are ready to drop, but go out on tl>e porch, or into the sitting-room and peel the potatoes and turnips. Again, there is rest \n. exercise : you have .sewed, and nursed baby, and washed dishes, and have not looked out-of-doors this long while; go out-of-doors, ivalk about your garden, or go to .see your neighbor, or take a friendly look at the cov/s in the pasture, or at the poultry in the yard. Hut there is a fatigue- that is not to be healed by change of work nor by walking : it needs f>irfict qiiiit. Don't always fancy that you can rest by changing or by out-of-door exercise. When you feel languid and weak, unattracted by out-of-docs, ind when to move eyes f'f Ji I If ;:| 344 THE COMPLETE HOME. P or hands seems as hard as to move feet, be wise in time : go and rest. Smooth your liair, rinse your face and liands, take off your shoes, lie down on your bed or on a lounge in a shaded room, or recline in a big chair, and shut your eyes and your ears, and be resolved to rest. Do this even if it deprives the fhmily of their dessert at dinner, or their warm biscuits for supper, or their cake for over Sunday; it will be much better for them to lack these things for a few times than to go to your funeral, or endure a six months' reign of Biddy in the kitchen. Even if, as I can hardly believe possible, some uncomprehending masculine grumbles at the lack of his wonted luxuries, never mind : people often do not understand what is for their real good. Some women wear out their vitality in doing work not fairly required of them. They, by a foolish yielding to unjust en- croachments, not only shorten their own lives, but aggravate the selfishness or ignorance and future remorse of others. Thus, while there is a husband and a farm-hand or two, cN-en a son, possibly, the housewife may be left to get licr own wood, to cut or pick up her own kindling, or be exi>ectcd to car>y a lunch to workers in the field-this. too. when she has a family to wash, iron, cook, bake, scrub and nurse for. To submit to such demands is absurd. The ones who make them, do not J-ealizc what they arc asking; to set the matter plainly before them, and positively refuse to go beyond a decent limit, would bring ail things right. There is a deal of difference between fk-mness and quarrelling. Another thing that i.s to be considered in regard to over- working and under-resting is. that as all clocks need winding, so all human brains and bodies need to he wound up by sleep-' ing. No one ever gained a jxTmanent advantage by depriving himself of needed sleep. Regular and ..himdant sleep at night is needful to maintain the health of all ages and conditions. Sleep before midnight is more refreshing than after. No one ,. . r ,. METh'ODS OF WORK IN THE HOME. 345 Who is active in brain or body during his waking hours will get 00 much sleep. Let hin. sleep all he can. Don't steal sleep hours for do.ng little extra things which had better not be done at all. Get to bed regularly at an early hour. and do not rise earlier than you need merely to be called an early riser, a great worker, and to boast of having half your work done before your neighbors were up. Some people not only fail to give their exhausted energies s eepmg time /. which to recuperate, but they fail to give them plenty of easily digested' food .;. which to recuperate They get too tired to eat. or they go to their meals over-exhausted and as soon as they have swallowed a little food, for which they' did not half care, they jump up from the table and go to work agam. The stomach cannot assimilate the food; the veins are not filled w,th good blood; they have no vitality to distribute to nerves and muscles, and flesh grows flabby and pale; the nerves w.tch and tremble; the muscles do not half work; the whole frame ,s dropping to pieces for want of what God has ofll-red to U and foolish humanity has neglectcd-food and sleep' 1 was discoursing somewhat in this fashion one day very energetically to n,y three nieces, with Mary VVatkins, and Sara and Grace VVinton, who had come to tea with me "otill." said Mary Watkins. -granted that we re.t as we can «Ieep and eat as best we may. cut ofT the superfluous, reject the' bringing of wood and drawing of water-vet. afle, nil. we find a deal of work which we must do. work enough to make u., very t.red; especially with two or three or more little children on hand, poor maid or none, and churning, pickling, preserving lard-rendering, house-work, daily and weekh- cleaning, mend- ing and making we .stand a fair chance of being over-worked and under-rested, do the best we may." ^^ Unless xso !..-„nw 5ome s^ry superior ,nethods.' said H'-.st«- yustuh.t r positively insist on hav.Bg Autit .Suphronia teU us, said Miriam. m ;:f' 346 THE COMPLETE IJOAfE. " Before I say anything else," I remarked, " I must impress it on you that mind, and body are so closely connected, that mind can tire body out by carrying burdens even if they are only imaginary. We wear out minds and bodies by enumer- ating to ourselves our future toils. To-day we are ironing ; and .f as we iron we forecast how hard it will be in the fall to put up twenty jars of pickles and jellies, and as many more of preserves, and how very hard the fall-cleaning will be, and how weary the work at killing-time will seem, why, then, taking trouble in advance of need, and paying heavy interest for it we exhaust ourselves. Listen to what John Newton says:' •We can easily manage if we will only take each day the burden appointed for it. But the burden will be too heavy for us if we add to it the weight of to-morrow before we are called to bear it.' " "That suits me." said Helen, "for that is one way in which I am always tiring myself Counting, for instance, in my mind how many clothes the children will require to have made in a year." "Now," said Miriam, "we have laid up in our minds that good coun.se!. and the theory of not forecasting trouble. And now ue must come to the practical part. There is work to be done: now how to do it ; what method shall make the burden h-ght? how shall we gather the rose of duty done without tearing ourselves on its thorns ?" "I do not sec," I said, "but you had better, if you have any especial work in your minds, come to the point about that at once, and we will all make the best suggestions that we can. That will at least be fully practical," "All right." spoke up Helen. " I've put a new oil-cloth on my two big halls. The last on • wore out too quickly by K% and took so long to .scrub that I drc.ulci having the chamber-' maid get at it. She spent all the morning on it." METHODS OF WORK IN THE HOME. 347 " No scrubbing," I said, " if you want a nice oil-cloth, and one to last a long while. Let it be swept with a soft broom • then on sweeping-day, after the dusting is done, tie up your broom in a bag of old flannel, and dry-wipe the oil-cloth: it can be done ui a i^^v minutes, and will make it look clean and bright Treated in this way. it will be long before the cloth needs any washmg; if it gets a spot on it, wipe it off in warm skim-milk When it must be washed, mix a little borax and hard soap in part of a pail of warm water; rub it well with this, but use no brush; have ready half a pail of warm water and skimmed milk and wipe off the oil-cloth with this and a flannel; set open the' doors, and let it air-dry. Wash it as little as possible; when, after two years or so of use, it begins to look dim and wear a little, have it well washed and dried, and varnish it thoroughly: you will have to keep the hall unused for two or three ""days while the varnish hardens. Cared for in this way a good oil- cloth will last for years," My auditors had all been taking notes in their pocket-note- books. When they had finished, Mary Watkins said : "That is very satisfactory; now tell me something. This morning I spent more than an hour, and nearly scrubbed off the ends of my fingers in cleaning off some rust from my best knives, which had been put by for two or three months. Now, I want to know first, how I could have prevented the rusting? second, how to clean it off well and easily? and third, how'to clean my knives?" " First, then, the knives were possibly a little damp when put away, or were in a damp place. Before putting by your knives, they sliould have been well rubbed with a bit of newspaper." Then you should have laid down a piece of paper, and folded the edge of it over a knife; then another knife, laying them hanrlic to blade with the paper covering each one. Put up each half-dozen in a separate paper. Then wrap up these papered ■r' 4 I ' f 348 THE COMPLETE HOME. Vf I * !i;'P knives In a piece of chamois leather or a strip of flannel, and shut them up in a paste-board box; put this in an ordinarily dry place, and your knives vill never rust. Second: how to clean off rust. Wrap the rusted article in a cloth, soaked in kerosene oil, and let it be for twenty-four hours ; then scour with bath-brick; rub with whiting or the old-fashioned rotten- stone; then rub with sweet oil, and after this, wash in hot suds; dry well with paper, and put by as just directed. Very deep spots of red rust can be eradicated by rubbing them with salt and vinegar. Third: how to clean your knives. Use bath- brick or a little well-powdered ashes. Have a board for the purpose, with a bo.x of your cleaning-powder and two large corks, say an inch and a half in diameter, and two inches high : use one cork to rub the moistened powder on the knives, being careful not to bend the blade, but keep it flat to the board; then rub with the other cork and dry dust or powder ; after this, rub the knife well with a scrap of newspaper. Many people ruin their knife-cleaning by wiping on a cloth or towel, which is sure to leave dampness or a streak of some sort. Two or three times weekly, .spread your knives on a tray in the sun for an hour. Knives should be washed in clean water, and scoured as soon as washed— it spoils them to lie wet; also never throw them in a pan of hot water: that spoils alike handles and temper. Hold them by their handles while you wash the blades in warm suds; then if the handles need water, shake them through warm water, holding the knives by the blades. Keep knives in a diy box by themselves. Always have for use in the cooking, lead or iron spoons and certain forks and knives, which are not used on the table. Many people use their table-cutlery and spoons in stirring cooking and in pot-scraping, and consequently never have anything nice for the table." " Speaking of scraping skillets and saucepans," said Miriam, "let mc tell you that shells, a large clam or muscle shell, are METHODS OF WORK m THE HOME. 349 worth ten knives. I have some shells kept in the kitchen always for this use; they save time, and make better work of that part of the cleaning." "Possibly." said Helen, "you can make some suggestions about cleaning tins. Every once in a while I find that our tin^ cups, pails and basins look like dull lead; I say they must be scoured, and the kitchen-maid spends half a day at it, covering the table with brick-dust and ashes, getting behind-hand m the work, and losing her temper." "This is one of the ways," I said, "in which a little daily neglect doubles dur ordinary work; tins need particular care but .t takes very little time if regularly given. The tins must not be washed in water where greasy plates or meat-dishes have been. The common plan is to suds them out after the dishes; wipe them with a towel, and hang them up; in a week their bright- ness is lost. Tins must be washed in strong, hot suds, where" no other dishes have been put; rub them hard in the suds; then shake them out; dash a little scalding water, with a cup, on them, and turn them to drain in a warm place. As soon as they arc dry, take half a newsp.per, and rub them vigorously outside and in : they will shine like new. About once a week, set them in the sun for an hour after they are rubbed with paper. Sedu- lously treated in this way, weeks or months may pass without their needing an especial scouring. When more than this cleaning which I have indicated is needed, take a flannel well sprinkled with dry whiting, and rub them hard with that, and finish off with paper. Paper is one of the best materials for cleaning that we can have in the house. Knives and tins nibbed with it preserve their brightness; if the stove is polished twice a week, and rubbed hard with paper on the other days, with ordinary care it will -.Iw >v=^ look clean and bright. Paper is better than a cloth for r- .,l>ing windows and looking-glasses and table-glass " 4i I ,"i \ * ' ■ . i 1':/ ' - ;i ; lilt' 350 T//£ COMPLETE HOME. "As wc arc on the subject of cleaning," said Sara, " I might remark that people give themselves a deal of needless trouble about taking care of their silver. The silver is washed in water with other dishes, is washed perhaps in water that is half cold ; then it lies for ten or fifteen minutes before it is wiped ; and is wiped possibly on a damp towel. This usage keeps it always dim in its color, and it needs a weekly scouring with whiting : in this way it is nearly rubbed to pieces. The proper way to wash silver is, to wash it by itself in scalding hot suds in which nothing else has been washed; if the silver is much soiled, hold the forks, spoons and so forth by the handles, and pour a stream of clear, hot water over the soiled parts to free them ; then put the silver into the clean suds ; rub it well with a sponge fastened to a stick ; drain it out, and without rinsing, wipe it verx- vigor- ously o,tt i\ clean towel: it will shine as if newly polished. Once a vueek after the suds, drop the silver into a pan of hot water pretty strong of ammonia; wash it well in this; wipe, and then rub with paper. The silver will need no scouring, no silver- soap or whiting cleaning for a six months ; will look better, and List longer." "Thanks," said Mary Watkins; "that will save me some trouble. Now, how shall one wash iron-pots, saucepans and griddles quickly and easily? They are heavy, and take a deal of time, and are very hard on one's hands." " It is well," I said, " to use a wooden-tub, large enough to manage them in; have plenty of hot water, and a small, thick scrubbing-brush with a high handle. Keep on hand some strong sal-soda water or some fine ashes ; dip the brush into either of these, and scrub the pot inside and out. The brush protects your hands, and cleans twice as well and quickly as a cloth ; rinse in hot water, and dry on the stove. Of course before putting into the tub, the inside should be scraped, if any- thing is adhering; and they should be rinsed, and the water , METHODS OF WORK LV 7J/E HOME. 3-;, iLrown out. The practice of washing pots and pans in soHcd cl.sh water, wiping then, with a wrung-out dish-cloth, and hang- -g them up all black and shiny within is dirty and unhealthf.^ Llean iron has a gray look." " Nothing saves labor so n. said Sara, " as thoroughness and do.ng things in the right ...y. It is m .h less trouble to scou. pans and pots and griddles well, than it is to half wash hem; ,f they are not well washed, they will burn, and the next I^ng cooked in them is likely to stick, and cause increased labor. Some people spend three times as much time as they should on clearing off tables and washing dishes. Mother taught us ^-ery carefully how to do those things, and I never saw any house where- both tasks were performed more speedily and neatly. Some people pick up their dishes, and carry them off prom,scuously to sink or kitchen-table-knives, silver glass unscraped plates, cold meats, .set down together, just as 'it hap^ pens: cups, platters, plates, tumblers, knives, spoons, go into the d.sh.pan as they are picked up; the confusion embarrasses the work, and a long time is required to get it very poorly done We were taught, as soon as the meal was over, to put away bread, meat, butter, milk-all the eatables which were left-in the.r proper places, and on proper dishes. Next the salts were refilled, the caster was wiped, and these were removed. Then the kmves were gathered into a tray, the forks and spoons into a deep d.sh. and they were carried off; then the cups and saucers were drained, piled up together, carried to the sink or wherever they were to be washed, and set in order there Next the glass-ware wa.s drained and removed ; then the plates and sauce-dishes were scraped and piled up. The refuse was at once earned off; the cloth shaken and folded into its box : then all our work was at the sink. We did not make ourselves work by spar- ing hot water: first, the glass-ware was washed, wiped and put away; then the silver was well rubbed in clean, hot suds pel- I i IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A O 4. a'^V^^ i/.. 1.0 I.I 11.25 !ffiM ■M !■■ 22 20 U 11.6 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STRUT WEBSTER, NY. MS80 (716) •7a-4S03 \ V C\ ■^ 4^"^ '^ «*.' ? ' easily to a little rubbing. The advantage gained in time and hard work by this soaking of the clothes is an additional reason for having the washing done on Tuesday. Clothes should not be boiled much, as it yellows and rots the fibre; often they will look as well for being put in a tub and having boiling water poured over them, lying in it until it cools, instead of being boiled in a tin boiler.' After the boiling, the clothes should pass through warm, clear water before being put into a light-bluing water, as unless all soap-suds is taken out of them before the blue, they will have a dull, yellowish look. Clothes should be turned in the washing, and '■nould be hung up wrong-side-out. If young women wourd only remember not to mix other, work with washing; if they would not hurry too piuch to be 'smart about getting done;' if they would lighten the task by soaking the clothes, and by using a clothes-wringer, if they could possibly get one, and if especially they would remember that haste makes waste, and instead of straining their chests and ruining their backs by lifting whole tubs of water, or boilers of clothes, or by carrying to the line a basket heaped with wet clothes, when by lifting water by pailsful, and by carrying part of their clothes only at once, they could spare the dangerous strain, we should have fewer broken-down women." Martha came to call us to tea. "Oh," cried Helen, "do wait one minute until I ask Cousin Ann how to iron lace-curtains: mine must be done up." "You do not iron them at all." said Cousin Ann; "have ready .some long strips of wood— like quilting-frames— as long as your curtains. Wind them with cloth, and lay them on chairs in the sun; stretch the curtain and pin it to these frames, pulling every scallop and curve even; be careful to take new pins that will not rust." St .4 11 n 358 THE COMILETE HOME. i r I "Thank you; and now just one word : why did my red break- fast-cloth and napkins fade sooner than Miriam's?" "Because, first, too much soap was rubbed on them; and, second, they were dried in the sun: colored things should be dried in the shade." After tea. Cousin Ann was again assailed by her young friends with questions, but secured her release by promising them certain new recipes. These I obtained from Miriam's book, as follows : m Uses of a Pan of Bread Sponge.— i. Take one pint of the sponge, add one tablespoon sugar, one tablespoon mcitcd butter, one egg, and set it to rise for biscuits. 2. Take another pint of the sponge, one cup of molasses, three tablespoons sour rtiilk or cream, one-half teaspoon each of soda and cream of tartar, twg eggs, one nutmeg, and set it' to rise for doughnuts. 3. Knead the rest of the sponge as for bread. 4. When the dough for the bread is light, cut off a piece th'- size of a small bowl. Make up the rest into loaves. 5. Take the piece of reserved dough and cut it up fine in a pan, add one cup brown sugar, one tablespoon of cinnamon, one cup raisins or currants, one-half cup sour milk, one spoon soda, two or three eggs well beaten, mix these into a smooth paste,' and steam four hours in a buttered dish, and you have a' delicious pudding. Scmpel.~T\\^ head, knees, or part of the neck of a pig; an amount of beef from the neck or knuckle about equal in weight to the pork. Let these boil together all day. When the mtat has boiled into fiigmcnts, carefully sift out all the bones, chof very fine, add salt, pepper and sweet herbs to taste. Let there be water enough to receive about half as much corn-meal as there is of meat. Set the pot back on the fire, and stir in the corn- meal until it is as thick as hasty-pudding, which will be solid % METHODS OF WORK IN THE HOME. 359 When cold. This is a delicious breakfast dish cut in slices and fried. As It is very much thicker witli meat than the ordina.y scrapel. it will l;.st good in a cold place for some time In Winter A can be kept four or five weeks. The meat must bv carefudy cleaned, and well skimmed while boiling Pressed Afe.,-ms a delightful relish for tea or luncheon, Take of veal, lamb, or beef, or mutton, the knucklc-pieccs, with very httle fat upon them. Put into cold water and let them bo.1 for a number of hours until the meat is reduced to small bits. Skim out the bones, and chop the meat very fine ; season to taste. This should have been boiled down to such consist^ cncy that when cold it will be a solid jelly, which will slice like head-cheese. This is very delicate in the spring made of veal and chicken; an old fowl, if not too fat, is better for it than a young one. In cold weather it will keep perfectly good ten days. , A Dressing for Cold Sliced Meat.-Qr^^A^Ai cup vinegar one teaspoon salt, one teaspoon sugar, one tablespoon mustard, one tablespoon olive oil ; mix well. Cake Cream.-mc^ stale cake and put in a pudding-dish in layers with preserves or with stewed raisins. Pour r ^r this half a cup of sweet cream well sugared, cover the top u ith a layer of cake, and spread on this a frosting as for cake; put in the oven for a few minutes. Serve cold. Frosted /77.//.-Take peaches, berries, currants, or any summer fruit, and stir well through it frosting, prepared as for cake of whites of eggs and powdered sugar; spread it on a platter and set it on ice until sent to the table. Cranberry Cake.-Y.,, in layers, first cranberry jelly strained ' and smooth, then slices of stale white cake, then custard made of the yolks of eggs, then cake, then cranberry, then cake, then a frosting .mde of tl)e whites of the eggs. Serve cold with cream. \mt\ t 1 I. , * 1 * 1 1- i i i, CHAPTER XV. THE UNITY OF THE HOME. WiUT AUNT SOPHRONIA THINKS OF FAMILY ACCORD, DISCORD AND CONCORD. 4)^ WISH It were written over the entrance of every Home, ^1 "A house divided against itself cannot stand." If the "iQco ^°"^^ '^ *° ^'-" durable and prosperous, there must be ^ unity between its members. A true Home is not a boarding-house where people come and go, arc glad or sorry, prosperous or unfortunate, just as it happens, for themselves alone, without affecting the other members of the household. The units, which make up the home, in a great measure stand or fall together : the prosperity of one is the prosperity of all ; the disgrace of one is the disgrace of all. I have .seen homes where it was assumed by the husband that his business was entirely his own business, that his wife or children were entitled to know nothing about it ; he might reach profit or loss, con- tract or pay debts, and it was no concern of his wife or children. The wife, proceeding in the same fashion, spent or saved as she liked in her dress, housekeeping and in rearing her children. The children made their own plans, friends, engagements, bar- gains. The servants were sedulously kept apart from any family interests, were fi.xedly shown that they were hirclinj.':; tvith certain work to do for certain wages, and oftentimes the work was shirked or slighted, and sometimes the wages wet.- long unpaid. Such a household is a rope of sand; the least krjch of disaster breaks it asunder; its parts fly far from . i THE UNITY OF THE HOME. 3(51 each other to meet no more. The son errs and is bidden never to cross again the parental door; the daughter, in whom h'ttlc personal interest has been taken, contracts a marriage which her parents disapprove, and is ignored; the sisters and brothers drift to different cities and neglect to correspond : they grow in time to forget each other's faces ; the parents are left alone in a love- less age. Here has been a Home but in seeming; it was but the false shadow of the real Home; there is nothing in this: gathering of diverse tastes and aims to project itself into the future world as having in itself the deathless germ of immor- tality. When by two young people a household is established, it should be clearly understood from the start that there is a com- munity of interest; that what concerns one concerns all; that secrecies are disastrous. The man who keeps all his business relations, and prospects, and undertakings, to himself, not only, by keeping his wife a stranger to his business, loses a coun-^ sellor whose natural keenness of wit would be sharpened by personal interest in his success, a counsellor whose oneness of aim with his would be unquestionable, because not only she loves him well, but with him she must stand or fall, but he risks having one in his own home ignorantly working against him. If the wife is ' darkness as to her husband's affairs, she may, by a too caul, r.s saving, cause his business prosperity and stability to be undervalued; or by a too lavish expenditure, when he is in straits, she embarrasses him ; or, unconscious of the pressure of his cares, she additionally burdens him with small anxieties or duties which she would, if better informed, assume herself. The wife who concludes that the health, morals, dispositions and doings of the far.'.ily are no concern of the husband and father, and so leaves him uninformed of what is goinfr on. deprives herself of aid. of the advice of one whose out-look is quite as wide and whose real in' erest is as deep as 862 THE COMI'LETE HOME. her own, and suddenly the poor father is overwhelmed by some physical or moral domestic catastrophe of which he was entirely unwarned. People go on in families each in a divided and separate way, heedless that what God has bound together in the Home, man cannot really put asunder, try as he may; and suddenly in some great shock of disaster he experiences what is thus described by a recent French writer: "Then this poor wretch knew in all its wide extent the sentiment of family responsibility, of that solidarity which causes esteem or reproach to descend from father to son, or rise from child to parent." Where children are allowed to understand and take an interest in family affairs, where they feel that they have their partnership in the household, then ,they will be early enlisted as helpers ; their judgment will be strengthened and developed; a proper reticence will be educated into them. It is jhildren, who by secrecy are constantly stimulated to pry into secrets, who become tattlers; the child who is taken into honest confidence is not the blatant gossip to publish home affairs, but is the staunch home co-worker. I remember in that charming prose epic of the French Tclemaque, the young hero states that he learned to keep his own counsel, and never betray another's confidence, by having made known to him in his early childhood the cares and embarrassments of his mother Penelope. By knowing the dangers with which his home was environed he became thoughtful, brave and judicious. Parents excuse themselves from taking their children as interested partners in home affairs on the plea that they will betray confidence accidentally, or in the fervor of friendship. Pleading this, they deprive their children of train- ing in trustworthiness, and drive them to fervid friendships with strangers by refusing the children their own confidence. An- other plea is that these affairs do not concern the child. This we cannot see: the child in its physical and mental conditions nuist be concerned by all that affects the prosperity of the family THE UNITY OF THE HOME. m its shelter, dress, food, position, means of education, concern it just as nearly as any one. Suppose the parents explain frankly to their sons and daughters business entanglements which distress them: at once their sympathies are enlisted in retrench- ments; they submit cheerfully to privations at which they might grumble if they did not understand the needs be: 'die sons earlier see the value of developing their energies and improving their opportunities that they may be their father's efficient helpers. What young people, if told by their parents that while freely and cheerfully accorded the means of education, yet those means \vere obtained by a struggle, and must be made to bring their best and speediest return, so that younger ones could have their share of advantages, would not be by far more diligent and zealous students? Some people say that it is unkind to make young folk sharers in anxieties and responsibilities; but this may be God's very way for training them for usefulness; if he sends the cares and anxieties into the family, it probably is his way; we deprive our children of what may be to them a fountain of strength, a reservoir of power, a ladder to ultimate success. The Scripture says, Blessed is' the man who has borne the yoke in his youth. Another point to be considered in this community of interests in a family is, that where knowledge of all business interests is confined to one — say to the father of the family — he may sud- denly die, and the wife and children be utterly at a loss to know how their affairs stand, what they should do, or what plans are half carried out for them to fulfil. If, on the contrary, the father has instructed his wife and children as to his business and his plans for the future, they, instead of being at the mercy of strangers, perhaps of sharpers, can arrange for themselves on the basis of a complete understanding of their resources and prospects; the sons are not helpless idlers, but understand ho\l to carry out their father's views. mi I I iQi THE COMPLETE HOME. I ';^'ii So also if a mother has made her daughters her companions and true yoke-fcllovvs in the household, they know her plans, and her methods, and if she is laid aside by disease or taken away by death, they know how to hold the helm and fulfil her intentions. The world is full of this dangerous division of interests in the family. Men sedulously conroal their prospects or losses; their wives go on in ways that once were safe, unconscious that now these ways lie along the crumbling edge of ruin; all falls in some terrible bankruptcy, and people cry: "Woman's extrav- agance !" where they should cry: "Man's dangerous secrecy!". God in the beginning proposed, as it was not meet for man to' be alone, to make a helpmeet for him. If men would only be ready to make their wives helpmeets by confiding to them their business, consulting them, expecting to work together with them for private and public interests, then not only would Hist living be far less common, but the lives of women would be less anxious, less frivolous and more useful, and commercial dis- asters would be far less common. Two are better than one, says the Scripture, but can two walk together unless they be agreed? Who more likely to be Argus-eyed to business dangers, who more likely to be resolute and courageous, than the woman who knows not only her own comfort and happiness to be at stake, but her husband's honor, and perhaps life, and her children's future? "Ah," said a great criminal recently, "all my affairs would have gone on better, and this terrible denouement would never have occurred, if I had told my wife and children all my en- tanglements; they would have saved me from myself I could not have become a criminal with their honest eyes fixed upon me." ^ I found lately this paragraph in a paper: " II is very common to hear the remark made of a young man THE UNITY OF THE HOMR. 365 that he is so industrious and so economical that he is sure to be thrifty and prosperous. And this may be very true of him so long as he remains single. But what will his habitual prudence avail him against tlie careless waste and extravagance of an uncalculating, unthinking wife? He might as well be doomed to spend his strength and life in attempting to catch water in a sieve. The effort would be hardly less certainly in vain. Habits of economy, the ways to turn everything in the household affairs to the best account— these are among the things which every mother should teach her daughters. Without such instructions, those who are poor will n^-er become rich, while those who are now rich may become po^. Now this is all very true, but if during five or ten years the young man desires his wife to maintain a certain style of living and then his income narrowing, does not explain matters to her, and ask her to retrench, who is to blame for tl|c too lavish expenditure? Wives are as ready to save as husbands to gain, if they only arc allowed as clearly to understand a " needs be." To my mind this concealment in domestic life is criminal. The marriage partntrship is as sacred as any partnership ; but what kind of business fealty would it be, to take a partner, and con- ceal from him a mass of bad debts, risky speculations and dan- gerous entanglements? "With all my worldly goods I thee endow," .says the groom, in the marriage-service. Now, if these worldly goods are at present nothing al> all but a figure of speech, and he and she so understand it, and bravely expect to create the goods by their joint industry, well and good; but it is »ot well and good, when the worldly goods are expressed hy a scries of debts of which the bride has been told nothing, while she must feel their burden. Unhappy the new-made house- hold which starts having, as the French say, " its debts for its savings." Probably no right-minded woman ever without indignation III m-\ 806 THE COMPLErE I/OX'E. ?lir: w% read In "Stepping Heavenward " the atrocious conduct,of the Doctor, who amiably introduces into his family two perpetual inmates, without ever consulting his wife; assumes debts for her to help carry; and when she lias staggered on year after year, burdened tliercby. forgets to tell her that they are paid until six months after the happy event! One would say that such a man was very far from the divine idea of the home, and making very poor progress in the Heavenward Way. Sup- pose a wife had thus invited guests, assumed debts, and forgot- ten to state when the scrimping and toiling to carry the burden might end? But is not this a partnership of equal interests? Shall not these two stand or fall together? Is not the loss or prosperity of one the loss or prosperity of both? But I am far from thinking that these selfish deceits and with- holdings are all on the masculine side of the question. I once knew a youyg man who was engaged to a girl who had ten thousand dollars. She. in apparently the frankest manner, agreed that he should make arrangements to invest this in a' particular way for their mutual advantage, and as soon as they were married the money was to be forthcoming. The trustful youth accordingly entered into business engagements which he could not cancel. The marriage over, the bride's uncle paid her Ihe ten thousand; but before one penny of it could be used as proposed, seven thousami dollars were called for to pay the lady's debts-debts of foolish extravagance, for lace, jewelry, flowers, confections, mantua-makers and similar demands ; thus the poor husband, miserably entangled by In's business arrangements, strugg.ed in debt for ten years, until his health was nearly ruined, and his youth was quite h)st I remember that a year or two ago, Miriam and I .si)eni a week in the city at the board- ing-house of an old acquaintance, l-ntering lier room one day., and seeing a largo nuir.bcr of pared;! on the bed, Miiiani laid: THE UNITY OF THE HOME. 367 "Oh, Mrs. Graham, you have been out shopping?" "No," said Mrs. Graham," "those belong to INIrs. Lester. They are to he here until Mr. Lester has gone out ; you know ladies do not always care to have their husbands know every little thing that they may purchase." Miriam looked confounded ; a flush of indignation rose over her face. " No," she said, clearly, " I do not know anj' such thing! I am sure I should not stoop to conceal anything which I bought or did ; and if I thought my husband would in the least question the propriety of a purchase, I would not make it." "Oh, well," said our hostess, a little embarrassed, "you and Mr. Rogers are different from the most of people." " Indeed, I hope not in this particular," said Miriam. It is true that I have not myself had the experience of married life, but I have studied married life closely in many homes, and I think I have good grounds for certain opinions which I have formed concerning it. The reference just made to a popular book, and to the Doctor bringing home two permanent members for the family, calls to my mind one point wliere unity in homes is often disastrously lackmg : I mean in reference to relations by marriage. Why are certain women another woman's natural enemies, merely because the words " in-law * are added to the terms sister and mother ? I have heard enough of the remark that one marries a man or a woman, but ;/."/ their family. Now marriage is not an example in subtraction but in addition. It is not to destroy past ties and natural affections, but to add lew ties and new affections. That a man takes a wife is not a reason for dissevering him from the sister who is of his own blood, who was his childhood's companion, pet or mentor. Marriage is not a Lethe in which are to be lost the memory of childhood, gratitude for past favors, and the fifth commandment True, the Bible does say that a man is to leave father and if. 368 THE COMPLETE HOME. ! la m the and cleave to his wife, though in this age it i. usually he w,fe who .required to do the'Ieaving, often.not seeing he car y ho..e and fnends for a decade. The husband and wife are declared to be one flesh; but the making of the new tie does not sunder the old: it is not that, loving one more, we are to love others less. The very fact that husband and wife become one flesh should serve to draw them in tender and forbearing un.ty to the close kin of the one to whom they are so nea. We must learn to put ourselves in other peoples places As we measure to others shall inevitably be measured to us Time .s a s,ngularly exact avenger-the true avenger of blood, ever w.th fleet foot and uplifted arn, following the evil-doer with his exactions, eye for eye. tooth for tooth, life for life. Think tl«.n -ou.er. so jealous, so easily offended, so hardly to be won by' your mo her-m-law. this babe on your knee shall take a wife and how would ,.. . like to be viewed as a mother-in-law P Wou d >^u have your cares, your toils, your long devotion ignored We have no nght to expect the fan.ilies into which we marry to be so much better than our own that they have no faults Tl I days are gone by when the sons of God wedded with the'da Jgh e s of men. Doubtless there wil, be more points of difUr n^ between us and them than between us inr! n, r . "''' 4.^ 1 ,-,• "^iwi.i.n us and our own fam es • but to be unhke ourselves is not ncccssnriK. n • t , ''""'^ ••c 1 "t-ccssarily a crime. I th nk them -,„B i4crfcc.,o„ „„l:,:*"='.7-'7 ■■' --"''«' »« dauglucr, perfect cr / I "''' '" '" <"™ pcrfc and ft """^ "''""' •^"'""''' ""- " »'>= "-e L.,::: :; :: ::; :f -- ^.'"-■™» ^" c„h„, i,,,,.. because fhc^r I H r ■■' """"' """" "<" ^' J'^'-'lo'is brail,,.;. ■^—'■'•" "M- marry. i„ |„ve husband better than brother; nor must the wife desire her husband to Iov= hi, sisters THE UNITY OF THE HOME. 3G9 less than before, for when her own toddling boy .';nd girl are grown, will she desire the love-bands between them to be rudely broken ? Why must a young man be instructed that his mother-in-law is his natural enemy ? If she loves his wife, and IS solicitous for her welfare, she loves and guards what is his dearest treasure, and thus has a claim to his gratitude, as in that wife's well-being is freighteu the happiness of his home. If there are some of her ways which are not pleasing to him, very likely that account is squared without any effort of his own by some of his ways being unpleasant to her. Has she not loved and nourished the being dearest to him ? If the daughter is charming, does she not probably owe it to her mother ? Must not that be a praiseworthy woman who has raised up for him so good a wife? If he is a true husband, does he not owe his wife's filial love some sympathy ? Why must a wife's mother and a husband's mother be foes ? Are not their interests centred in one household ? Has not each made a sacrifice for the other's child ? Will there not be a line of grandchildren in whom they wHl be mutually interested? I have seen households where the mother was carping at the father's relatives and the father was condemning the mother's kindred, stirring up in the breasts of the children distrust and hatred of those who were equally their kin ; forgetting that these to whom they made the children hostile were those whom God had bound to them by blood ; that their strife would introduce an element of lovelessness into their own homes ; that they were weakening the bonds that tied their own children each to each. I never yet knew a case where, by coldness,^ quarrelling, censo- riousness, the parents lessened their children's love for relatives on either or both sides of the house, that the evil did not rebound by having the children grow up loveless between them- selves, jealous, captious, assigning evil intentions to trifling acts, and ending by drifting widely apart. The old Arab proverb 24 ' * ", |;ri 11. ■Ml f 11 mK M-) TIT UiiL: o(i 77/E COMPLEIE HOME. says, " Curses, like chickens, go home to roost," aad tlie curse of family dissensions never fails to get home to roost. Parents should think of this when they arc carping at every little oddity and folly in their relations by marriage, so their children will carp at and vex each other. Suppose, my good young woman, that your mother-in-law finds some fault with your style of doing things. Perhaps you are to blame in having withdrawn confi- dence from her, and not explained tuliy you did thus ; or, as she lias twice as long experience as you, possibly her way is better than yours, so you will do well to try it ; or, granted that she is fretful and exacting, behold the root of the same in her passion- ate mothcr-'oving of your husband. Did you forget that the tie between him and her is just as close as between you and the babe you are nursing at your breast, and even stronger, because it has had years in which it was annealed in love and care and' stfvice? You, busy young head of a family, are angry, because your wife's mother criticised your business or family doings? What impelled her, but desire for your family prosperity and happiness, and the future fortune of your children? It is dangerous and disadvantageous, people say, for families to live together: let each household be alone. Doubtless the rule is good, but Providence sometimes interferes with it. It would be well if every man could provide for his own, and if all ate the bread which they earned ; but many cannot do this, and the poor we have always with us, and by this alteration of the normal order of earning and providing, we may exercise the grace of Christian charity. Thus, when it is needful in God's providential arrangings for us, that families should live together — that the part of one family should find refuge in another — this may be a means of developing new graces in ourselves and our children. Therefore, people should not complain, and look on it as a great evil, that aged, pnnr, infirm or homeless relatives must be received into their families ; but rather feel thankful THE UXITY OF THE HOME. 371 that they may repay past debts of love and tenderness. The Apostle John doubtless received into his house, as a great blessing and favor, the mother of our Lord; and Christ himself just as surely sends now his servants as inmates of other homes, as then he sent Mary to John. What should be more grateful to the feelings of every true heart than to be able to establish in one's home, and wait upon with affection and respect, an aged parent? What finer opportunity could offer of teaching to children filial piety, respect for the aged, self-control and unselfishness, besides laying up a store of regard and attention to be enjoyed in our own old age, for as wc sow we shall reap. I remember a very pretty fragment on this subject which runs thus: " Our mother, who now lies in death before us, was a stranfrer to me, as are all of these her descendants. All I know of her is what her son has told me to-day: that she was brought to this town from afar, sixty-nine years ago, a happy bride; that here she has passed most of her life, toiling, as only mothers ever have strength to toil, until she has reared a large family of sons and daughters ; that she left her home here, clad in the weeds of widowhood, to dwell among her children, till health and strength left her God forbid that conscience should accuse any of you of ingratitude or murmuring on account of the care she has been to you of late. When you go back to your homes, be careful of your example before your own children; for the fruit of your own doing you will surely reap from them when you yourselves totter on the brink of the grave. I entreat you as a friend, as one who has himself entered the evening of life, that you may never say in the presence of your families nor of heaven: 'Our mother has outlived her usefulness; she was a burden to us.' Never, never! A mother can never live so long as that! No; when she can no longer labor for her children, nor yet care for herself, she can fall like a precious weight on their bosoms, :\ni S72 THE COMPLETE HOME. w call forth by her helplessness all the noble, generous feelings ol their hearts." There are no more beautiful and more richly repaying les. sons to be taught our children than those contained in the Scripture : to rise up before the aged, and to honor the face of old men, and to see in the hoary head a crown of glory. Life with all its burdens and its bitterness lies behind the old, and we should make their age a time of peace. There is but a short space left them wherein we can show gratitude, tender, ness, and that sympathy for infirmity which becomes all of us who are moving on toward like age and infirmity. Mrs. Winton's aged and paralyzed mother lived with her for several years— indeed, until her death. Being quite helpless Mrs. Winton fed her. One day while she was thus giving her her dinner I was there, and being a little tired and nervous, Mrs. Winton spilled some of the beef-tea. I said to her, with a smile : " How much more skilfully she fed you when you were little ! " Mrs. Winton has since told me that those words never left her; that during wakeful nights, and days of ceaseless watching, during the feeding, bathing and dressing needful, came to her the constant thought, "How skilfully and tenderly she did this for you when you were little!" She prized and taught her children to prize this opportunity of ministering, not only to a revered and beloved parent, but to a saint of God on the verge of paradise. I have often heard people speak as if where there was a mingling of households, and of diverse elements in a family, there must be discord and jarring. This is a dangerous feeling, for where we expect discord we are likely to have discord. I was myself a member of a large family. My mother, a widow with children, married a widower with children ; children were also born to this second marriage; my mother's mother Wid my step-father's sister also belonged to the family circle; but THE UNITY OF THE HOME. 373 in all this large assemblage of different elements there was no discord nor jarring. We were taught to seek for the virtues and not the failings of those about us; to be grateful for favors, and ready to grant them ; to put ourselves in other people's places ; to respect other people's rights ; to feel honored by opportunities of waiting on the old and helpless. I am sure I hardly knew whether the full brothers and sisters, or the half sisters, or those who were such only in name, had the higher share in my regard; and this experience has shown me that family unity can be attained anywhere and in any circum- stances, if people will only unselfishly resolve to have it. A dear friend of mine, when almost in middle life, married a Uvidower with a family of half-grown children, with whom the first wife's mother was living. The family not only recognized their father's right to choose a wife for himself, but were rejoiced that his happiness was to be added to in the choice of a lady, in age, education, position and piety, so well fitted to grace his home. The wedding over, the children with simple sincerity welcomed the bride to a mother's place in their hearts and home, and the aged grandmother folded her in her arms as a true daughter. The record of the years of this family life was thus told by the second mother : " No own children could ever have been dearer or more loving to a parent than these were to me, and it was a true blessing from heaven to live in the house with that dear old lady. It seemed when she died that I could not live without her." From such instances we see that unity docs not rise from nearness of relationship, nor from smallness of families, but from A right direction of the heart. As quarrelsome families as I ever saw were small families, where none but parents and one set of children lived. If parents show partiality among their children — if they always give up to the one who makes the loudest noise or tells the most angry tales — if they do not cul- ;n L ': ' m 374 THE COMPLETE HOME. tivate strict justice and loving-kindness among their children— if the motlier is always showing up the faults of the father's relations, and the father devotes himself to complaining of the mother's relatives, while the kindred on both sides strive to make the children their partisans, no matter how small the family may be, it will be large enough for disunion; as says the Scripture, they will be divided two against three, and three against two. I think the three classes of relations most abused have beeq mothers-in-law, maiden aunts and step-mothers. If all maiden .lunts fared as well as I have, they would have very little of which to complain, for I have yet to receive an unpleasant act, word or look from my large family of relations. Often because' a person is a maiden aunt she is therefore supposed to be a legitimate subject of sneers or censure, whereas her position ought to make her a public benefactor. If she bestows advice, she is old-fashioned, too particular and censorious. If she gives no advice, but drifts with the present current of affairs, tlien she is foolish, giddy, trying to be girlish. VVhittier describes the maiden aunt as she might and should be anywhere, and as I have no doubt she always would be if properly received : " Who lonely, homeless, none the less Fo...icl peace in love's unselfishness, And welcomed wlieiesoe'er she went. A calm and gracious element, Whose presence seemed the sweet income And womanly atmosphere of home." However, maiden aunts are generally independent. If they have no private means they are able to take care of themselves, and, if needful, they can make their own place in the world With the step-mother it is different; once married, she must abide in the state wherein she finds herself, even though a meddlesome neighborhood excite against her the children's hearts which she desires to win, and though relatives on both THE UXITY OF THE HOME. 375 must sides of the house league against her, as if in virtue of hor arduous position she were the common enemy. Probably, there are very foolish, weak, harsh or indifferent step-mothers, because there are foolish, weak, harsh and indifferent own mothers. If there is a selfish or silly streak in the nature, it is likely to come out either in the own mother or the step-mother, but not as I can see more in one than in the other. The own mother may feel more passion of love, the step-mother more the grave bonds of duty, but whether the spring is the one emotion or the other, the result is an honest seeking of the best good of the family. It is taken as a popular statement of fact, usually given in a martyr-like tone, " Well, you know, there is a great difference between own mothers and step-mothers." Yes, I do know that there is, and sometimes the difference is in favor of the step- mother. I have seen a good many step-mothers, and I never yet saw one who was not doing the very best that was possible for her husband and his family. The person of all that I knew who talked the loudest against step-mothers, and the miseries which she had suffered from one, when pressed to the point, could lay no fault to the unhappy woman's charge, except that she had married her father. I said to her: "Well, if that was a crime, your own mother was guilty of the same. To hear you arraign step-mothers one would think you had been cruelly used, but that is impossible, since you were eighteen years old and largely and powerfully made, before you had any step-mother. I fancy, if one heard her side of the story, we should learn something of the painful prejudice which exists in the minds of step-daughters." How absurd this family quarrelling is! How cruel to greet a woman's entrance to a new home with a bitter feeling, and acting as if her position were usurped and her nuptials only half loga! ! A cousin of mine, a good girl too, was deeply aggrieved that 376 THE COMPLETE HOME. } ! ■ill yii her father took a second wife— a lady suitable to him in every way. I said to her : " Rhoda, you expected to be married, your brother is in California, your father is of a long-lived race : why should the poor man face i s age alone?" Rhoda could give no suitable reason for her pique, but she would speak of the new wife as " my father's companion," until my patience was exhausted, and I spoke out : " If you don't choose to say ' mother,' nc one will complain, though in declin- ing the word you lack a very attractive grace ; but I am quite tired of ' my father's cotttpanion' as if she were a hired servant, or living in illegal bonds. She is your father's 7vi/e as much as your own mother was, and you insult all three, father, mother, and step-mother, by this ridiculous phrase." Rhoda did not use the objectionable term any more, but she gradually stopped corresponding with me. I suppose she did not like my speaking my thoughts so clearly, but it is a great comfort frankly to free one's mind. How often have I seen step mothers who were the very mak- ing of their families, bringing the children morally, mentally and socially to something better than had ever been expected for them. And this is heroic, when we consider against what difficulties and prejudices they have often to struggle. The restrictions and reproofs which would be cited as a mark of an own mother's judiciousness are called tyranny in a step-mother. I visited once the children of an early friend and schoolmate. This lady, dying suddenly, left a large family, which at the end of a year passed into the hands of a step-mother Sorne six or eight years after this marria-c I visited the family. 7': ■ ;xel- lent judgment, principle and management of this second mother left nothing to be desired. Her life had been one of devotion to her step-children, which found' itself well repaid in their remarkable advancement in life. And yet, surrounded by -. ■;-'(fi, luifi;ries and gratifications purchased by the step- THE UNITY OF THE HOME. 377 mother's money and al 'lities, one of the daughters said to mc, with a sigh: "And yet, of course, there is so much to put up with, for you know a step-mother is different from an own mother." " Yes," I rephed, " and sometimes the difference is in the favor of the step-mother. Your own mother was a charming person, of high family and much genius. However, she married far too young — before het education was completed, and she was always a martyr to ill health. Her inexperience and feebleness of constitution, together with an unusually yielding disposition, rendered her quite unable to exercise that decision, that activity and ability which your father's business entanglements and large family demanded. She could not have done for th . family what her successor has done. I know that your stcp-niother's achievements for you have surpassed your own mother - best dreams, and that she herself would have asked nothing setter than to see you in the hands of such a wise, kind and capable guardian." I wish the public would come to see that this prejudice against step-mothers is weak, foolish and unfounded, unworthy of an age of Christian common-sense. People should stand or fall, be condemned or praised, on their own proved merits or demerits, not upon the strength of a name. I have talked a great deal with my nieces on the need of Unity in the Home. Disunion in families is a sort of lineal inheritance; it runs down from gt..cration to generation, lik the chin of the house of Hapsburg. We should try to make our homes calm and united, that Unity may bless the homes of our descendants to the third and fourth generation. How shall this Unity be encouraged ? By example ; by precept; by practice. Children should see that their parents show this lovinpness and forbearance to each other, and to tht-ir rrl,itive;\ in very virtue of the tie of relationship. They should be taught 373 THE COMPLETE HOME. that the tie of brother or sister gives a claim upon their paticnc, and kindness, and not liberty to be captious and exacting. Very small children can be taught to be tender and loving' in their ways to each other, and to recognize the claim of little brother or sister. Children should not be allowed to quarrel, to strike, or tattle. Very little children often sliow their fallen disposi tions, .-nd will tell tales, or even make up tales to get anothct child into trouble. People sometimes think a child will have sense to defend itself from a false accusation, but this is not always the case; some children think slowly, are easily alarmed, and have a certain reticence in rebutting char-es, so that often the loudest and seemingly most innocent complainant is the real culprit in a household. It is dangerous for parents to be taking sides between their children, for thus doing they leave thorns of injustice to rankle, and thus weaken the bonds of love. The danger of allowing children to go on quarrelling, and squabble out their difficulties, is still greater: for the longer that they quarrel the frailer become the love tics between them. The best way is to condemn the quarrel as a thing evil in itself; to exalt the beauty of self-sacrifice and forgiveness, and to change the current of the combatants' thoughts and feelings by some new occupation or some pleasure. I was at Miriam's once when her three children seemed in a very uncomfortable frame of mind, and in a loud dispute and accusation ran to their mother. "Dear me," said Miriam, "you all seem to be right, and all to be wrong, and you certainly are very hot and tired, and have played too long. Run, put away your hats and wash your faces, and come and see what a nice thing I have for each of you." In their wonder over the " nice thing " the squabble ended, they returned in peace, and Miriam gave Dora three fine sugar- plums to distribute. These eaten amicably, she said : " Now you must go to work ; " and set Dora to hemming a towel, Bob THE UNITY OF THE HOME. 379 to ripping an old waist, and little Harold to cleaning up the shoe closet. We heard no more of the fray which, in charges oi " names," " stories," " faces " and " blows," had seemed likely to be a serious affair. " So, " I said, laughing, to Miriam, " they get candy for quar- relling ! " " Anything is better than a long quarrel, temptation to false statements, and probable injustice in settlement. They seldom quarrel, for it always stops the play for the time being, though I try to stop it as agreeably as possible." Cousin Ann has always been particular to foster affection in her family. She was talking to me of this lately, and she said : "There is nothing which more promotes unity in the family than the keeping of little family festivals. I always kept all the birthdays. We looked forward to the birthday keeping. The children prepared their little gifts; I made the birthday cake, which the hero of the occasion cut and distributed. Sometimes we kept the festival at home, sometimes we went or. a picnic or a trip to town. The one whose birthday it was chose, and the choice must be for a treat in which all the family could share. We sometimes invited strangers, and sometimes kept the festival by ourselves, for I did not wish my children to feel that they could not be happy within the circle of their own family. Ihit we recognized the social instinct as a part of our nature con- ferred by God for wise ends, and we did not cry out against a desire for other companions and friends than those of our own fireside as if it were a crime. Now that my three elder children are married and away from home, we keep their birthdays still as a family-gathering, and they come home with their house- holds, as they are settled near me. If they were far away I sliould send them gifts and greetings, for I never want the ties between us to weaken so long as we all shall live. As we kept the children's birthdays, so Reuben's and mine were kept ; and ■M T( 380 THE COMPLETE HOME. I !• 1i aatr n% J THUE If i::n every such occasion, with its good-will, good wishes and little offerings, served to draw us closer to each other. We also kept the yearly holidays togetlier, in a way to please all. Christ- mas was looked forward to. The children saved their money, and taxed their inventive powers, and their industry, in the preparation of gifts. We oRen gave them prcsents-as a set of books, a game or a puz.le-whicli belonged to all. so that common rights and common property should exercise their honesty and self-sacrifice. Thanksgiving was another festival especially a Home festival, when we thanked God for gracious- ness to us as a household, for blessings on household labors, and formcreasing our common store. We taught our children to have an interest in each other's preferences, and if they had rivalries that they should be generous ones, and without jealou.sy. If one child enjoyed flowers and gardening, all were interested in procuring seeds, bulbs, roots, or new information m horticulture. Where another was fend of fowls or stock all were alert to hear of or obtain fresh varieties. Thus the Jerv' diversities of tastes in the family were incentives to kind act. and bonds of new affection. I have heard people say that their children were so unlike in tastes and dispositions, that they could not expect them to be companionable to each other • but I found that, ruled by love, these differences of taste and opinion only increased tlieir mutual happiness in each other, giving a freshness to their intercourse, and a breadth to their thoughts." "Yes," said Hester, who was sitting with us ; "Jean IngeloW Uas put that thought into very beautiful verse, thus: > •"A» heaven's high iwinn, whereof in Tyrinn blue. The one rcvolvelh i Ihroush hin curse irnmum Mi«lit Idve his brother of the dani(uk hue. For like nnd difTcrcnce. • 'For clifTercnt pathwny" evermore decrwd. For common K'unl. two n«pc<-t. nnd one ipee^ One centre, and one »e«rj THE UNITY OF THE HOME. 381 « « For deep affinities, for drawings strong, That by their nature each must needs exert; For loved alliance, and for union long That stands before desert.' " " I remember that," said Cousin Ann ; " it is very beautiful I think in that same poem is the line : ' For human love makes aliens near of kin.' If human love can do that for aliens, what can it not do for those of our own blood ? The ties of blood are, we say, of nature; but use and cultivation must make them strong, or they shall drop asunder like burned tow. It rests with parents to make their children true yoke-fellows and friends, staunch to each other's interests, dearest friends and best helpers in adversity; or whether, in youth left to slip farther and farther apart, knowing no mutual interests, sympathies, affections, they shall in time drift from the home, like dead leaves from the tree in Autumn, never to know or care more for each other. How much better the home where each child indissolubly held in loving affiliation shall, like the shoots of the banyan, but reach out to take fresh root, and growing each in its place, increase the .strength and stately beauty of the whole." "The Scripture tells us," I said, " that a brother is born for adversity, but many parents seem to forget that these family relationships were provided by God to be comfort, defence and strength to us in all the days of our lives, and fail in childhood to weld the bonds of kin." "Some parents of my acquaintance," said Cousin Ann. "think that I am very hard on them in holding them responsible for the characters of their children, and for all that occurs in their families; still, 1 do hold that if there is evil in the house, the springs of it will be found in some evil of commission or omis- sion in the parents. The parental error may have its excuses and its ameliorations in the fact that their parents before them erred, and failed to instil right views and set a right example i wrong descends from generation to generation, and we cannot tn Si 1 1 382 T//£ COMPLETE HOME. too clearly impress on parents' minds the sense of their respon. sibility. I have noticed that where there has been in one gen- eration excessive severity, in the next there is likely to be lawlessness, and likewise the rebound trom lawlessness is sever- ity. In this matter of lack of unity and home affections, the evil seems not to rebound into sentimentality, or passionate loving, but coldly to run on from generation to generation in Its own kind. Some families arc remarkable for their strong affections; others for their indifference to their kindred. Parents •should feel that lovingness, like other good growths, needs to be cultivated, and it is their duty to take every measure to make it thrive in the garden of their children's hearts. Visits between different members of the family should be exchanged ; presents should be sent ; no matter how busy the life is, correspondence should be kept up. Some husbands ignore the fact that, when a right-minded woman marries, she docs not forget her own kin- dred and her father's house, but retains love for her parents, brothers and sisters, and this love should be respected ; at what- ever sacrifice, intercourse should be maintained; years should not be allowed to pass when the wife sees no face that surrounded her childhood. So, on the other hand, the wife should delight to invite to her home her husband's parents and brothers and sisters, making them the friends of her children and cementing the natural bonds of the family. It is a grand misfortune when, by uncontrollable circumstances, an individual or a family are' forced to dwell alone, isolated, as some tropic palm transplanted to a foreign climate. Think how time and distance wore unable to sever the .strong tics between pilgrim Abraham and his father's house; and after seventy years of ab.sencc he sends back to his native land to secure a wife for his son, confident that his kin- dred there have not lost their loving interest in him. and will not say him nay." Among the other means which Cousin Ann takes to establish % I h,l I THE UNITY OF THE HOME. 383 the unity of her family is that of keeping the wedding days. Her children inherit the custom, and each of iheni celebrates their own marriage anniversary in his own house, and they all go back to the homestead to commemorate the beginning of their family life, in the marriage of Cousin Reuben and Ann, Generally other relations beyond the immediate family are in^ vited, sometimes more, and sometimes less. There was a large gathering on the thirtieth anniversary', and all of the immediate relatives were present, as well as especial friends from the neigh- borhood, the daughters-in-law's families, the minister and his family, and relations of Cousin Reuben from a distance. That farm-house seems elastic in its power of accommodating people. The children who are at home had improvised rooms for them- selves in .the attic; the servants took possession of the rooms which in July and August belong to the pensioners from the city; the whole house was in festal attire. Sara had been at home for several days helping in the preparations, and Martha had been there with me, also lending her aid. It was in June ; the farm was in such order, and showing such a splendid prospect of crops, that one might have supposed it especially prepared to contend for a county prize; that the beautiful acres which framed it on either side belonged to the two elder sons, did not make the prospect less pleasing; the large, comfortable, unostentatious farm-house, draped in vines, surrounded with fine gardens, blooming .shrubbery and fragrant grape-arbors, appeared to have a vitality of its own, and to be able to rejoice in the joy of this large family, which had grown up in its shelter, and returned there constantly to give token of their love and happiness. The si.K little grandchildren frolic' ed around, so evidently to the admiration of the grandparents, that I askod Cousin Ann, in all .seriousness, which was more sati.s- factory, the child, or the grandchild ? and she replied that she •' could not tell : both bad their advantages." i'l'.U I m S84 rjy£ COMPLETE no ME. Fnendship, frankness, generosity everywhere abounded At sunset many of the young people were in the parlor singin^ while Sara played; the children, in perfect concord, enjoyed a game; along the garden walks paced white-haired Cousin Reuben and his whiter-haired elder brother arm-in-arm. Cousin Ann. her sister-in-law, and three nieces were conversing on the front piazza; the minister was sitting by me in one of the arbors and glancmg, well pleased, on the whole picture, he exclaimed:' -ehold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity; like the dew of Hermon, and the dew which descended on the mountains of Zion, for there the Lord com- minded his blessing, even life forever more." 1^ CHAPTER XVI. THE USE AND ABUSE OF MONEY IN THB HOME. AUNT SOPHRONIA TELLS HOW TO COKDUCT DOMESTIC EXPCV- DITURES. WAS quite amused lately by an argument which I heard between two of Mr. Carr's boys. They were sitting close by my fence, where a large willow casts its shade on the side-walk. The subject of their discussion was money. One of the boys said it was the root of ::II evil— that hi? Sunday-school lesson had given it that bad pre-eminence; he also supported this position by facts, as that money caused quarrelling, and bought whiskey. The other boy maintained that money was a good ; that it bought us all the nice things which we had ; that people were more respected for possessing it; that nations who had money were civilized, and had all manner of improvements, and only barbarians did not possess it About at this stage of the argument they decided to lay the case before some umpire, and looking up they saw me. Ac- cordingly they came near my window, and the elder boy said that the " big fellows " in his school had a society, and were about to debate the question whether money or woman had had the greater influence over men ; he and his brother on hearing the question had found that they differed greatly as to the merits of money, " I think," I said, " that you have, both of you, right views, but they are not clearly before your minds. You say, Joe, that your lesson declares money to be the root of all evil » (886) >filll 1 ;!t :i rili ^ UC|£^^ 386 THE COMPLETE HOME. There you mistake : it says the lo-oe of money is the root of all evil. Money is not to be prized as an end, but as a means : it is not valuable for what it is, but for what it will procure.' We have no right to love money in itself Misers love money; they hoard it; it does them no good; they prevent, in their hoarding, the good which it might do in circulation; money is not to them' a means of doing or getting good, but it is the end of their desires. We may also love money unlawfully as a means, when the end v/hich we desire to obtain by it will be selfish or wrong. If we crave it to surround ourselves with luxuries, refusing hos- pitality, charity and help to others, then we love money or its equivalent, and it is a root of evil to us. The love of money is the root of all evil, because it tempts men to break all the Com- mandments : they worship money instead of God, and so break the first and second Commandments; for money, men have sworn falsely; have perjured themselves, and so have used in vain God's holy name. To increase their property, men labor on the Sabbath; for love of money, people have refused to help their old or sick parents, to give fair wages to workers, to aid the poor, and to bestow charities; and in these ways have broken the fifth Commandment. You boys have doubtless read and heard of plenty of instances where people have stolen, lied, murdered, coveted, for love of money, and the love of money has caused them thus to break those two great Com- mandments—to love God and our neighbor— which Christ said included all the law and the prophets. Thus you understand that the love of money is the root of all evil. Therefore, we must not love money, but the good which we may do with it. "On the other hand, Samuel, you are right in claiming that money is needful and useful, and that by it immense good is accomplished. Great geniuses have invented, but moneyed men have put the inventions into practical, active use. Money has printed our book.s, established hospitals, endowed colleges, USE AND ABUSE OF MOXEY IN THE HOME. 387 turned swamps into grand cities, deserts into farms, forest-wilds into valuable town-lots. Money has sent out missionaries, has multiplied Bibles, has encouraged discoveries and inventions: it is a bond between nations, produces commerce, maintains railroads, pushes on the world in all its civilizations and advancements. The Bible bids us be diligent in business; says if a man will not work, he shall not eat; promises wealth as a reward of honest toil ; so money honestly earned, used for good objects, not engrossing our souls from good things, but used to promote good, is a good thing to have, and we should receive it as a gift of God. So you see the good or the evil lies not in the money itself, which is merely a bit of metal fixed upon as a medium of exchange, but the good or evil lies in our own hearts, in our method of using or abusing it." Now, when the boys had run off, I sat thinking about this Question of money and its influence. , What a power it is in the world! If in the woi.d at large, then in the home, which is the world in miniature, and the root of public and national life. How do people in their homes regard money ? What is the manner of its Use? what the fashion of its Abuse? I said to myself, money lies behind all our bread, our clothes, our shelter, our education — every man gets it and spends it; at some point all his toil means money; at some point all his relaxation reduces itself to money. I will this very day get out my jour- nals, wherein I have noted for so many years all that I have seen and thought of bionics, and I will see how money is making or marring in domestic life. Every year money becomes a larger and larger factor in the problems of human existence. It was once the fashion to express a lofty disdain of money, to condemn its importance ; but this disdain exists only in theory. It is idle to quarrel with facts, and our contempt of wealth does not extend beyond the hour when we can get it in possession. While very lofty virtues •1 388 THE COMPLETE HOME. i •• have flourished in .he midst of destitution, we n,„,t not con. t'T ' "'■ '"^ '=«"™"= '="^"«» "' destitution; from the unfriendly nature of their surroundings. The pos session of moneyno. only opens to a man many nLavenues of .7 Tf ■ '"' ■' ^"-^ "P- '"" "-e Coor of many tempta, ■ons. If we examme even those errors to which L„ey is ,.posed to render a man especially liable, we sl-all find fh hoy consort equally with a desperate poverty. In proport on to the,r numbers, there are more debauched beggars than nil onnaires, more criminals among the ve^ poor tlrtn a. T;: he" vcy r,ch. Extravagance, the living beyond one's means 'and hghtly dissipating our money, whether it be more orl 3 belongs as much to the poor as .0 the rlch-indeed, no class so readily squander their earnings as those who have gained d em tobeTth'^"'"™"^- '''""™^^"=' *'"«"Sares„ppte: .0 bo o the crimes into which the very rich are betrayed bu, even when the proportion of numbers is ao;ustcd cLfL , hero IS more indulgence in these faults among the moncyl s" «.an the moneyed. The prayer of Agur covers the case : " G^ me neither poverty nor riches: lest I be full and deny thel lest I be poor and steal.' Here each state has its danger and the' - of the rich is more li.ely to be covert, of the po™ The one errs of self-confidence, the other of despei.t,on. What Agur desired was that safe middle-ground, where happily so arge a proportion of people stand. He ,Vho .». „.,ZZ has his daily bread, is not poor. Great wealth could put'll m no better position, except in making his cloth a lit'e fi ? and spreading more butter on his bread To lack a large bank account is not to be poo, if. on the other hand there 1, o dea weight of debts. As long as courage, activity ,:':„: edge of ome useful occupation remain to us, and we owe no man anything but to love one anod.er, then we are no. inrien" USE AND ABUSE OF MONEY IN THE HOME. 389 "Forgive mc, poverty!" cries a French writer, " that I con founded thee with indigence. To wealth man fastens himself as one grown upon a rock, but in contented poverty, which is not neediness, one sits as in a skifi; where one may easily cut the cable and drift away to the better land." Now I find that as to money m the Home, three writers of diverse nations give us three precepts which maybe well api)liod. Cicero tells us. that " Economy is in itself a great revenue." Joubert, a Frenchman, warns us, that " Debts abridge life." While Lord Bacon gives us this counsel : " Seek not ]jroud riches, but such as thou mayst get justly, use soberly, dis- tribute cheerfully, and leave contentedly, yet have no abstract or friarly contempt of them." Now among all its other havings, the Home must have a money basis. Money mu.st build its shelter; feed, and clothe, and school its inmates ; provide for their old age ; and as new members are added to the family, parental foresight discerns their coming needs, and reaches out for means to supply them. To provide this money basis of the Home, Providence has bestowed upon us humans, acquisitiveness, or an ability for getting. The bestowal of this impulse is beneficent; for, setting aside a deal of absurd declaiming on the incompatibility of wealth and virtue, we face the facts that pauperism prevents a man fulfilling his duty as a man and a citizen, and in nine cases out of ten is the child of laziness and twin-brother of crime ; while though wealth does not create virtue, it is obviously not inimical to it, and dwells with it very peaceably in the same nest; and between these two is that safe middle-ground, afford- ing living room, scope for useful labor, where, as on a plain removed alike from burning heats and biting cold, the Home may be happily established. To reach this position of comfort should be the aim of every family; such a position should be desired and labored for with a tenacity v'lich never relaxes into ,"i If ij '11 ill 390 T//E COMPLETE HOME. {■f 41 s- i W^^Mii ikM m inertia, and with a quiet hopefulness which will keep us from being over-anxious about the morrow. In this proper pursuit of family independence, we must consider the mcufis to employ, the dangers to avoid, th& frame of mind in which to live. I tried to impress upon my nieces from the time when they set up housekeeping for themselves that saying of Cicero: •' Economy is in it? .If a great revenue." I had the sentence illuminated and framed, and presented it to each of them, as also to others of my young friends: I desired to create in our village a feeling that economy was creditable. Now just as there is a wide difference between poverty, or the state of unwealth and indigence or neediness, so there is a great difference between economy and penuriousness. Economy builds up the home; penuriousness saps its strength. I warned my young friends that the great danger of beginners is a contempt of littles. They would see that a saving of a hundred or a thousand dollars was reasonable, but they do not appreciate the virtue of saving as many cents. As says the old proverb, " Many a little makes a mickle," but we elderly people, who have seen the littles grow to mickles, and have outlived long examples in compound interest, understand much more clearly than the young the value of small economies; therefore, while with the elderly these economies are matters of reason and experience, with the young they must be matters of habit. Young people's habits are of course matters of education, and parents should realize that by instructing their children in the practice of econ- omy, they are laying the foundations of their future fortunes, the comfort and stability of their homes, and the fortunes of their grandchildren. I saw very clearly this difference in habits of economy between Helen and Miriam as young housewives. Helen had never been trained to consider her small expendi- tures; she would lose or spend numerous little sums, and remark that such a little made no dififercnce— a few shillings, or USE AND ABUSE OF MONEY IN THE HOME. 391 cents, or a iollar or two; "it would be all the same in a life- time." • I replied to her one day, " Indeed, my dear girl, it will not be all the same in a lifetime. You are but little past twenty; you hardly look forward to living less than thirty or forty years longer, and it will be far from all the same in that lifetime whether these littles are saved or wasted. Suppose, in littles, you waste less than one dollar a week, say fifty dollars in a year : put that out at six per cent, compound interest, and in forty years you have seven thousand seven hundred dollars. Now it would make perhaps a deal of difference to you whether at sixty-two you had that much more to live on or to bequeath. It might be a deal of good to one of your children to have that much additional." Shortly after Mary Watkins was married, Miriam invited a small company to meet her at tea. The conversation happened to turn on this question of building up domestic finances ; and some of the young women said to me : "Aunt Sophronia, what are the rules for getting rich ? " " Come," I said, " do you suppose the answer to that question will be short or long, hard or easy ? " Said Helen, " I should think it would be very long, as there are millions of ways of getting rich, and people have been busy for several thousand years in discussing them. It must be a very hard question to answer, also, inasmuch as most people find it so very h -"d to get rich." "All that has been said can be boiled down to a very short and simple answer," I replied; " and all the difficulty in the work lies in the needful self-sacrifice. The question first is. What do you mean by getting rich ? Do you wish to know how to lay up an immense superfluity — to become millionnaires ? Or will you be content to call honest independence, enough to live upon taste- fully without fear or favor, enough to keep away the wolve/ ici^scL^ iH ^^^ ^^^ COMPLETE HOME ' Of debt and want, and to send out from your door on errands, the full-handed angels <.^ h , ' ^°"^ that being rich ? " "^ benevolenc,-will you call ;; I will " said Miriam ; " n.ore would be a useless burden " You know," said Helen, lauLdiinfr " thit .> • • , , Xecp is .ca,„ a b„de„ and „„. a help .'o hi™' ^" '^'°''' *= -lt;:a^r.;:;,::\T,^-----, co.ro„aB,e are few and simple and , "■"" """^ ""= '"''''■ -''■■* Wo* hard, se 3d ,1 "" ,'' " °'™='' ''^ ^"'f-«"«- oraeheandCr:;^':::;:" 7ha:°''^rr'"'^-'^ ■-■==•'-' wisdom of the world ha, h J " '"■■* "'" =" ">= rule, for getulrih Th ' '° "«=" ="« '■°™"'«= - -".w.h:%:tdei:;;r:L;:;3'r"^^""""'- .°>vard it and do it honestl/a„d d „r;i;e p^:;;, 7 ^ reached your p-oiI • fJ,« o. , • '^ ' >^" have i/uurgoai, tne same pain stmo-hf ,.., r Dassnhlo r^. I • ' ^'^'^^'S"^ unadorned and vet passable road is open to all." ^ " I don't know," said Minini '< K..^ *i ■ . .-i.,cs „o„,d he the i«:d: 'to e rr:' "'t °'""'- quickly." ■ '"' ' ''° ""t =■;'; things "And I do know." said Melon, "that the 'werk hard ' ,„ , „ econom.e' would be equally difficult to me f„ 1, h " and yet-I want to helo Frank „ , , '= '"'"'• children nu,st be provide!!, ^ "" °" '" '"^ "-'"■ --^ -' « think of bnyin, moX ' a d nTL":!,:^ '™' """ mortgage." * ^"* '"'^''"i '"ore "These same difficulties"! sn.VI '<^„„f . , t"."'*>■ Rourke, whose hu, ,„d .: r fl.it r V';"";""' ■"■" nMHh, The result will ,1 , ' """^ ''""•ts a result „,ll depend on now we manage the d,fficu,. USE AND ABUSE OF MONEY IN THE HOME. 393 5r, on youf '( you call urden." that Astor eyond the imfortable les, wiiich f-sacrifice. keep out It all the mulate as in a nut- wn work- 'ou have and yet ' oppor- - things and the e both, ind our -," said Ti, and more with a n, and liars a ifficul- ties; the millionnaire may manage so as to get into tlie peniten- tiary, the poor-house, or be a pauper on the hands of liis friends; Betsy Rourke may manage so as to secure a tidy cabin of her own for her old age ; put all her children in the way of earning a better living than her own; have never a debt; always a little laid up for a rainy day, and die respected. Each of you may manage so as to live under a perpetual fear of being pushed into ruin by the first touch on you of sickness, loss, a death in the family, or by sudden hard times; or you may walk con- fidently inside of a safe, strong margin wherewith you have hemmed your affairs." " Your mention of Betsy Rourke," said Mrs. Winton, " re- minds me that we who visit a good deal among the poor in this town, and among the workers in our shops and factories, are not doing our duty by them in giving them clear, practical in- structions, and a little encouragement in regard to the manage- ment of their money affairs. We could do it in a friendly way, without .seeming to intrude on what is no concern of ours. The poor know nothing of political economy, and very nearly as little of domestic economy. The most of them in this town manage little more than to be one day in advance of starvation. They use up their earnings as they go ; a little extra earnings does not mean a ncst-cgg for future savings, a plea.sant addition made to the little balance in bank, but it means a day's pleasure excur. sion; some bit of finery; a grand dinner. It is harder for them to be prudent than to be industrious; they expect to work hard, but they do not expect to save carefully. They toil laboriously, and .spend the money as recklessly as if it grew in their pockets." " They think," .said Miriam, "that what they can lay by is so little that it is not worth the trying to accumulate." "And yet these littles can grow into a handsome reserve. My mother-in-law liavithin his. I gorgeous ce a Dam- ::c should - clutched throat; a front; for n, equally onc-hun • lelinquent ms. This id reputa- creeps to red bier; festering ncc, they all their lieir own bout her en. USE AND ABUSE OF MONEY LV THE HOME. 397 " I feel that she cannot be too earnest," said Miriam ; " and I eschew extravagance with all my heart from this time forth. But, Aunt Sophronia, one may be extravagant— that is, be living, although but a little, beyond their income— without knowing it : they may be sinking in a quicksand before they are aware that they have stepped upon it. How shall we know that, while striving to be economical, we are not becoming penurious, and that, trying to be fair, we are not extravagant? " "In the first place, know your income; and in the second place, mark your expenses. In other words keep accounts. As to avoiding penuriousness, we must remember that over all we have God holds a first mortgage, and humanity a second. Of these two mortgages we must pay the interest honestly ; they are our first debts, and when they are fairly attended to, then we must mark our accounts. We shall have avoided the Scylla of penuriousness, and we must steer clear of the Charybdis of extravagance : we shall do this by means of a diligent studjr of our account-books. Great men have not despised carefi'I account-keeping; indeed, their carefulness in this particular was one token of their greatness. Washington and Wellington were both very particular in account-keeping. We should dare to look resolutely at the state of our affairs: bankruptcies oftener arise in a neglect in scrutinizing our accounts than in any other one •;ause. England and France have laws obliging all business people ro keep proper account-books. Every house- wife should have her account-books. When a sei-vant enters her employ, she should put down the commg into service and the rate of wage., ; every payment should be scrupulously set down in the servants' presence as they receive the wages. All the daily expenditures should be set down ; each month the account should be footed up ; the monthly proportion of rent, lights, fuel, wages, be added, and the amount compared with the month's income. If the amount oversteps the income, or so %\,t 1^ '^ri 11: »r' 11 i 398 THE COMPLETE HOME. ■■i' m '^"1 ii squarely meets it that there is not that needed margin for the small savings, then revise the account and take warning. Where needlessly was spent the dollar ? What costly item for the table can be replaced by one more suitable to our means ? Where was the useless indulgence, whicn, denied, would have brought this account into proper shape ? Where shall our next saving be scrupulously made ? Let us discern between the need- ful and the needless. Can next month be brought to settle the deficit of this, so that the year shall not tell the story of our folly ? Let us now take, by a month of self-denial, the consequences of our carelessness, and we shall arise and do better." " We must surely keep accounts," said Miriam, " but these things which you have suggested to us seem rather in the way of preventing expenditures than of making money I suppose it is true that we are enriched not so much by what we make as by what we save ; but let us have at least one rule for gaining." " I do not know any rule for gaining," said Mrs. Burr, " which would come before persistency in a course well begun. Do not become restless, think that you accumulate too slowly, that some other line of life would be better, and so change your business. A woman has much influence over her husband's business. If she constantly finds fault with it, undervalues its efficiency or respectability, contrasts it unfavorably with others, she will presently move him to some change which may be disastrous. I knew a young woman whose husband owned a nice farm : she began to crave town life ; she did not want to be a fanner's wife, to bring up her children in the country ; finally she persuaded him to sell the farm, and set up in the city as a real estate agent. At that business he has starved along ever since ; his children are unhealthy and ill-provided ; while the purchaser of the farm has a nice home and competence. I know another young woman who took it into her head that her husband had better study a profession than be a village grocer. laMi^. USE AND ABUSE OF MONEY IN THE HOME. 39fl He had a nice trade, but the couple went mad on a false idea of gentility. He gave up his business, studied medicine, did not succeed in getting a practice, and has lived from hand to mouth. We cannot say that change is never advisable : most rules have exceptions ; but the safe rule is to persevere in the line of life upon which one has entered. Often the safest business is the slowest. This is particularly true of farming : almost no farmers who attend faithfully to their own work and avoid speculations are ever bankrupts ; but as their gains are very slow, especially in the beginning years, when they are making repairs, building, fencing, perhaps paying a mortgage, they think that they will never do better, and they want a change." " One danger in making these changes," said Mrs. Winton, " is that you throw away the progress made, and the knowledge acquired in the business already begun : when you change you go back to the beginning. Having half learned farming does not put you half through with the grocery business, but if you go into groceries you must begin at the ABC. One business does not furnish us the alphabet for others : each has its own." " That fits our experience," said Cousin Ann ; " for the first five years that we were on the farm, we could not see that we had made anything but our keep and improvements : we had not paid a dollar on the principal of the mortgage. But though we felt discouraged, we looked at the matter squarely : we had gained much experience; our buildings were in order; our fences were in order ; the land was in far better condition than when we got it ; our young cattle were beginning to be of value ; we were in a much better position to go on and make money than when we began ; and, indeed, from that time our former work began to tell, and we made money fairly fast. Father has always warned our boys not to be changeable. He said to Fred and Reed, when they thought they might find a r I Sii.' I „i m 400 THE COMPLETE HOME. it il mk. more profitable way of using their farms : ' Don't change from fruit and vegetables to sheep. You have been working at the fruit and vegetables until you understand them ; no one can cheat you in them ; your start is made ; you have run for your jump; your momentum is gained — you lose all that by changing. Dcn't ^xy ^o turn your stock-farm into a sorghum plantation, or go into beet-sugar or tobacco. That might all do if you started at it, but you have made your start in another line: you have raised stock ; studied stock ; arranged your farm for stock-raising. Don't throw away five years' work; stick to what you are at' " These remarks of Cousin Ann closed the conversation for that time, but, a {q^n days after, Mary Watkins came to see me- She said that she had been much struck with the saying, " Debts shorten life." A debt made a heavy burden to carry, and toil was harder for such a load. There was a mortgage on their farm. She wanted some advice as to how she could help pay it, and whether she had better encourage her husband to buy more land under a mortgage. She said a scrap of poetry kept ringing in her head — " There is no use of talking, Charles, you buy that twenty more, And we'll go scrimping all our lives, and always be land-poor. For thirty years we've tugged and toiled, denying half our needs, And all we have to show for it is tax-receipts and deeds." " Well, Mary," I replied, " I cannot give you any advice about the purchase of land, for I do not know how you are situated, and I do not wish to interfere with your business ; but I can give you a little advice as to the dangers to avoid in the getting of money, which advice may be of use to you. As debts do abridge life, avoid debts as you would poison or con- tagion. To do this you must live rigorously within your means. To live within our income, even if it be only by a six- pence, is to escape the degradation of neediness. Poverty is ' '■"*-*i'^m.-^^SBm USE AXD ABUSE c. .\IONEY IX THE HOME. 401 ange from ing at the one can n for your ■ changing, ntation, or do if you Dther line: jr farm for ck to what rsation for to see me- le saying, 1 to carry, artgage on could help Lusband to of poetry r. eds, my advice w you are ;incss ; but 'joid in the you. As on or con- ithin your yr by a siX' Poverty is only relative. If you can keep out of debt, you are relative!}- rich : a man with five thousand a year, who gets yearly two hundred dollars in debt, is relatively poor. When by over- stepping your income you get into debt, you purchase th.- v.or.;l evils of poverty — shame and fear. HaUburton says : ' Xo man is rich whose expenditures exceed his means, and no man '':, poor whose incomings exceed his outgoings.' Your first effort in paying off your mortgage will be to bring all ycur expenses within your income, and by all that you bring them within you can lessen your indebtedness. I .should wish to be very sure of the propriety of getting more land, if I got a new debt with it. Again, Mary, do not be in haste to be rich. This haste is that taking thought and care for to-morrow which the Scripture con- demns. This over-zeal for riches abridges life as much as debt does. People, in their hurry for increase of money, coin their very lives and souls. All the goodness and capacity for enjoy- ment dies out of their lives while they are .striving for wealth. People in this pursuit of money deny themselves the comforti; of life ; they keep their children out of school to avail thcrn- sclves of their labor ; they deny them books, new.spapers, society, decent clothes ; they make them feel shame-faced and mean — all for what ? — to roll them up a fortune which they will not be able to enjoy. They make their children coarse, ignorant, greedy, unloving, in order to have more money to leave them. But what good will this money do without friends, without the confidence and respect of the community? In spite of their money they will see all the prizes of life carried off by those whose parents were careful to give them those things which are better than money: /'. a, social qualities, education, good manners, affectionate feelings, general information. In over-haste to be rich, the energies, and sympathies, and cares of the parent are withdrawn from his children to tlic money- getting. The home devoid of attraction is a jail rather than a 26 • \ I \\\m 1 !' \ \\ ''i 4 1 i s HHHHIf '' *' J i ^H^{ 5 ! 402 THE COMPLETE HOME. ' dear nest ' to the children. The inteicourse between them and their parents has been hard, brief and cold; there" is nothing to regret in leaving them. No tendc»' recollections of sunny hours, of gratified tastes, of mutual enjoyments, bind them to home; as soon a? they can they fly off to strangers and strange places, lacking that strongest tie to morality, a loving thought of home. If the children are worth laying up money for, they are doubly worth cultivating in all that is best in them ; and in devoting ourselves too intensely to the pursuit of riches, we for- sake the greater for the less. DonV, in your desire to save and to earn, descend into meanness. Avoid illibcmlity to servants, to children, to the public. As a mere matt«r of business, liberality pays well. Meanness hardens the heart, narrows our views, dries up our social instincts : men naturally hate and antagonize it. The child, treated illiberally, loses love for the parent. The servant, illiberally dealt with, !-yses all zeal in service, has no encouragement to render that faithfulness and energy which are beyond all purchase ; meanly treated, deprived of even just gains, he retorts by doing for his mastc" as little as he can. Neighbors miss the kind, neighborly act; the church commci ts on lack of charity ; the dealer detects the scanty weight, the poor quality, the narrow bargains ; and as we sow we reap ; we get baak our own coin, and can ws complain if it ib counterfeit, or has been clipped? A good deed done in a kindly temper is never thrown away : the bountiful sowing makes the bountiful harvest. Says the Scripture: 'The liberal man deviseth liberal things, and by liberal things he shall stand.' We can provoke unto love and good works. In the ' Vicar of Wakefield ' Farmer Flamborough grew rich, although he was so honest, kind and unsuspectitig that Mr. Jcnkinaon was always cheating him ; while Mr. Tenkinson, siirewd enough, and mean enough , to cheat, fell into poverty and prison. Bunyan tells us in a little rhyme: ! ' USE AND ABUSE OF MONEY IN THE HOME. 403 m them and is nothing IS of sunny nd them to and strange ing thought ley for, they lem ; and in hes, we for- to save and servants, to 3s, hberality our views, 1 antagonize arent. The "ice, has no crgy which jf even just as he can-. Ii commei ts weight, the vc reap ; we counterfeit, ly temper i« lie bountiful iscth liberal :an provoke Wakefield ' ; so honest, ys cheating 2Ar\ cnoup'h .'Us us in a ••' There was a man and some did count him mad : The more he cast away, the more he had ; ' and this riddle is thus unravelled : " ' He who bestows his goods upon the poor, Shall have as much again, and ten times more.' "Again, the wisest of men tells us that: ' There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing ; there is that withholdeth more than is meet, and it tendeth to poverty. There is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great riches.' A hard bargain is a biid bargain for the proposer; he may appear to gain, yet he will eventually lose. Be generous and unselfish in your endeavors to accumulate property ; if you get it in a mean way, you will use it in a mean way ; the habit of meanness will be staovpcd in your soul, and you will have made money itself your end, and experience that love of money which is the root of all evil. Nothing i's more unhealthful, more life-shortening, more aoul- cramping, than to be engrossed in money-getting; the Mammon worshipper is a mean man. Milton tells us that Mammon him- self, in heaven, could not look up, so fastened were his eyes on the golden pavement ! Th<^refore do not consider accumulation your chief good. You accumulate in order to strengthen, pre- serve and improve the Home; therefore don't let your accu- mulating be the destroying of the home. Don't accumulate in such a fashion that some day j/ou shall wake to find your home gone; its hopes perished; its loves dried in their fountains; the children fled in disgust and soul-sickness; your hopes of heaven darkened; God forgotten; your so-called Home merely a whited and gilded sepulchre, full of rottenness and dead men's bones. Carry the vitality, the honpr, the joyfulness of your home on wjth you in your course of accumulation. story Mid as is a parable which we should all l.-ij/ to heart. Remc-iri' ber, Mary, all things arc for our immortal part; for mind; for soul; the life is more than raiment. What is raimejW to a corpse? ( t ) t Ii «v I'll!' ! I'll ;' III * ^..^u^. '( ;■ k 'i i w ■ , i ! i ii: 1 \H 1 J . ,i W^ H If ! f ! 1 hi n t. ; 404 T//E COMPLETE HOME. What is money to him whose soul, body, heart, mind, celestial crown, have been sacrificed to gain it?" . ' "Thank you," said Mary, "for what you have said; I think I was beginning to consider accumulation a chief good, and money a chief end, instead of merely means to the end .of true home building. I see money is as likely to be Abused as Used in the home. In the poem which I quoted are two other verses whic^ I remember: " ' Our life is short, and full of care : the end is always nigh ; We seldom half begin to live, before we're doomed to die. Were I to start my life again, I'd mark each separate day. And never let a single one pass imenjoyed away. " ' If there were things to envy, I'd have them now and then. And have a home that vias a home, and not a cage or pen. I'd sell some land, if it -were mine, and fit up well the rest ; I've always thought, and think so yet — small farms, well worked, are best.** I fancy Mary persuaded her husband to her view, for thejr did not buy more land for some time. The day that brings us iAto debt is a dark day; that is a light day — glad as the going out of Egypt — when one gets out of debt. I was at Cousin Ann's one day, when she read a little bit of poetry called " No Mortgage on the Farm," from the village paper. She said she appreciated it from her own experience; she remembered it was a glad day when Reuben paid off the last dollar of the mortgage, and though years had passed, the joy was yet fresh in her mind: "While our hearts are now so joyful, let us, Mary, not forget To thank the God of heaven for being out of debt ; For he gave the rain anjl sunshine, and put strength into my arm. And lengthened out the daiys to see, No Mortgage on the Farm ! " " If any one can tell us v/hat is a right state of mind in regard to Money in the Home, I think you can, cousin," I replied, "for you have had a larga family for which to provide ; you have had your narrow beginnings; your long days of struggle to free I USE AND ABUSE OF MONEY IN T/IE IIOAfE. 408 yourselves from debt; the constant, daily, arising needs to meet; and have at last reached a time when means arc comfortably abundant." "The main thing is," replied Cousin Ann, "to keep in view that \vc are getting the money not for itself, but for the goodi which it will secure ; therefore we must be on the watch to take the good as it comes. We may say we are laying up the for- tunes and securing the happiness of our children, but we must remember that childhood has its fortunes and its happiness as well as middle-life. Why deny our children the happiness and fortune of a few toys, in order that we may add dollars to other dollars for their future? The few toys may let in a whole flood of sunshine on the child's life. How do we know but they will be all the fortune that we can give it— ^that the little child may never grow up to claim its portion of goods — that all our be- stowal of fortune on it must be limited to a doll, a tin-cart, and a yard of daisied sod? We deny the little girl a doll and play- time, and she prematurely becomes a hard-faced woman who i»ever had a chilH'-uod. I have seen men who begrudged the time which they said their wives wasted over a stand of flowers; men who complained that a few pots of geraniums and verbenas cost too much ; if their wives wanted flowers let them wait until they were rich, and they should have a garden full, or a hot- house. But the wife died long before riches came, and flowers in plenty went into her coffin and upon her grave ; it would have done her flir more good if they had been put into her living hands ! "A very little outlay will often procure for some member of our families some gratification of taste, which will be richly repaid in love and happiness. Besides, we sometimes forget that these small gratifications have a positive effect on health and spirits, renewing both, and, in very truth, producing a better return in money and saving than almost any other outlay. The I ; ' -m, ;n i i ii'j!i [| iii^ •■ 406 THE COMPLETE HOME. little token of thoughtfulness, of kindly remembrance, renews the courage— reminds one how much there is yet left to live for. We must know when to spare and when to spend. It is not well to have all the scrimping and saving done in one series of years, looking to have all the lavishing done in another decade. We must save and spend at the same time ; pay as we go, and build up our home in taste, in comfort, in intelligence, in propor- tion as we are building it up in fortune." "And when we are speaking of the use of money in the home, we must not forget," I said, "that while one form of its abuse ia in pcnuriousness, another form of abuse is lavishness. Children get too much money to spend whach they never earned, and of which they do not know the value. I heard of a man who said that he just put some money in a drawer, and let his children go there and help themselves. There would be account-keeping, saving, good judgment, when all the youngsters had to do was to get out the money and use it, and no questions asked ! I have seen a child of ten, going off for a three days' visit, handed five dollars to buy candy and nuts. A ycjng school-mate of Miriam's was so liberally supplied with pocket-money that she really did not know what to do with it. One day she bought a dollar's worth of candy ; then opening the paper, and findmg the first bit flavored with peppermint, a thing which she disliked, she tossed the whole parcel into the mud of the street. Another girl whom I knew, received from home a pair of pretty ornanu-nts which cost ten dollars ; she wore tiiem a day or two, then pre- sented one to her room-mate, and the next week lost the other. Girls thus recklessly given dress and spending money arc really driven into extravagance, and arc at last the women whose hus- bands become bankrupts, defaulters, suicides. Boys who may lavishly spend money out of the paternal pocket learn to smoke, dnnk, play cards, race hor3C;i: they apply themselves to no useful occupation, have no high principles, learn nothing whick USE AND ABUSE OF MONEY IN THE HOME. 407 shall make them self-dependent. Money which comes to young people so easily, of whose bitter earning they know nothing, of whose deprivation they know nothing, is a snare and a ciiisc. Better the chances of the little bootblack earning his dimes, and respecting them as proceeds of his labor ; better a million times the farm-boy, whose dollar represents the potatoes he planted and dug, or the chickens he fed and tended for a six months, than the boy who gets his twenty or fifty dollars, to spend unquestioned, and to whom that money is just so much green paper out of father's pocket. " Children should be taught to earn money ; to save reasonably their money; to spend it judiciously; to give out of their own funds, not merely going to father with the cry, ' Give me a cent for contribution!' and then putting it in the box, and calling it their own giving: shall we give of that which costs us nothing? Children should be taught to take care of their money, not losing it heedlessly here and there, laying it down and forgetting where they put it ; so they should be instructed to keep accounts ; this forms the habit of method and of reasoning in their busi- ness: the spendthrift boy will be the spendthrift man. "Another abuse of money in the home is to keep all the money for that one home and its needs and luxuries, forgetting that the one home is but a unit among many; that as we are human, humanity has its claims on us all; that in the civilized state every man is more or less dependent on his neighbor, and must do a share for others while he is working for himself There arc human beings without homes ; human beings sunk .so in degra- dation, so steeped in indigence, that knowledge and means of home-making are out of their reach ; there are in the world plenty of stray waifs, childless, widowed women, relationlcss men, friendless children, hopeless invalids : for these society nui.st make hQm!^s and pr=v,.idc teachers and refuges. One of the abu.ses of our money is to gather it all into our own circle, centre it ujion W w I r-ii mii iliiS^' II ] if 408 rj/£ COMPLETE HOME. ourselves, desire to surfeit our own appetites, to crowd our own lives with pleasures, ant! our own homes with luxuries, and refusing to distribute as we liavc opportunity to those who are in need. A grand use of money in the home is to give us to taste the blessedness of doing good. The hundred busy hands which have gathered in the fortune should be ready to com- municate ; the hundred eyes which have looked for opportunities of increasing our store should look wisely abroad, to .see what fields can be watered by it, what waste places sown, what deserts made to become gardens. "And here, as said our minister the other day, arises the much vexed question: 'How much have we a right to use for selves? What is a rational and proper style of living for a Christian? And to this it can only be answered that every man is a law to himself If no one used any luxuries, trade, and manufacture, and invention would be at once crippled. He who has many servants, justly treated, wi.sely governed, before whom he sets a right example, makes his home a home to many, supports just •so many more of his fellows. M„re physical luxuries are needed by some than by others : one man's nature only gets its development in a great library; pictures are another man's natural mind-food ; let him thank Cod for money to buy them, and so support artists. The only thing needful is to realize that in our money we are God's stewards and our brother's keepers. Ix-t us feel that in earning, in keeping, in spending our money we are those who must give account. And so as Bacon warns us, let us not ha.sten so to be rich that we cannot get honestly ; let us not so spend our pos.sessions on ourselves that we cannot give liberally; let us not love our means so well that we cannot spend cheerfully ; let us not spend so recklessly that we begin to live .selfishly and greedily ; let us not love money so well that wc will be loath to leave this world because of leaving our worldly belongings ; and let us profess no scorn of money USE AND ABUSE OF MONEY IN THE HOME. 409 like that professed by the begging friars, who, be it remarked, W'^re always especially eager in getting ! "And here I would only add a few monitions which I impressed on Helen's little Tom. " If men are to hate debt, boys must hate debt ; let them be taught not to borrow, and not to beg : it is training a boy in pauperism to allow him to hint or boldly ask for money from guests and relations. " If the man is to be upright in business, the boy must be upright. Do not think it is no matter if you neglect to return your mother's change ; if you take, half by force or by calm assumption, your little sister's or brother's money. Boys who act in this way will not be honorable business men. " Don't be a boy-miser — hoarding your own money, never jnak-'r- .. present, never giving in charity of your own, always <;■ receive and never ready to give. lake a pride in earning money: you will respect money more, and be more likely to be honest in your dealings, if you have learned how to earn money for yourself " Don't make hard bargains w ith your mates, taking advan- tage of their need or of their ignorance. " Don't be lavish, spending to make the other boys stare, buying things which you do not need merely to show off. Remember the boy is what the man will be." ..I » ( li J i !■! 1} CHAPTER XVII. ATTENTION TO DRESS IN THE HOME. AUNT SOPHRONIA's IDEA OF TASTE AND FITNESS IN DRESS. ELINDA BLACK came in to see me one autumn morn- ing ; she often drops in, but that day she came espe- cially because she had on a new Fall suit. Whenever Belinda has a new gown, she is seized with a mania for wolking through all the streets, and for visiting her friends until all have had a view of the new apparel. Indeed, she takes a bland, innocent, unconcealed delight in new clothes, a delight which has so much childish simplicity in it that it is mainly amusing. And yet Belinda is quite old enough to be reasonable; a great many women never do become reasonable on the subject of dress. Well, as I said, in came Belinda, and chatted away, careful that she sat in a good light and in an advantageous position to display her last dress. I chanced to ask her why she had not been in her place as one of the sub-teachers in a class for sewing, which I have for poor children, and she said that just at that hour she had an engagement with the dress- maker, and so forgot. " That is it, you see," said Belinda, with a little laugh, " the dress-maker puts everything else out of my foolish head ; I suppose I am even worse than other people in that folly ; but we all think too much about dress," concludes Be- linda in a judicial tone, while secretly smoothing out a ruffle and regarding the trin.ming on her sleeve with great complacency. "I differ from you, indeed," I replied; "I conclude the trouble is that wc do not //tifd- half enough about our dress " (410) « ATTENTION TO DRESS IN THE HOME. 411 IN DRESS, "Oh, Miss Sophronia!" cried Belinda, "I thought it was a waste of time and a token of a weak mind to think of dress." " It depends entirely upon how you think of it, my dear. In the way of imagination, I grant you, we may think a deal too much about it; in the way of reason and common-sense, generally not half enough. As to weak minds only occupying themselves with this matter, some of the very finest minds have lent themselves to its consideration. The Bible itself gives us various rules about it ; great legislators have passed laws concern- ing it ; physicians have written much on the subject ; and divines have preached sermons and written books, also, about it." "Why," says Belinda, opening wide her eyes, "I did not know that the Bible had anything about dress, unless you mean about the fig-leaf aprons, or how the Lord made Adam and Eve coats of skins — Eve must have been very beautiful to stand such dressing as that without a ribbon or a bit of lace— or perhaps you mean about the priest's dress as we had it once in our Sunday-school lesion." " I meant none of those. I fear you have never read your Bibls through, my child." " Oh, yes, I have ; straight through, and got five dollars for it." " Then, while you were going through it, I fear the five dol- lars must have been more in your mind than what you were reading. Read it through again, Belinda ; not for five dollars, but for the sake of knowing what is in it. However, I will tell you what it says of dress : Isaiah says, ' Because the daughters of Zion are haughty, the Eord will take away the bravery of their tinkling ornaments, and their cauls, and their round tires like the moon, the chains, and the bracelets, and the mufflers ; the bonnets, and the ornaments, and the head-bands, and the tablets, and the car-rings, and the rings, and tlie iiosc-jcwcls , the changeable suits of apparel, the mantles, and the wimples, and A. 1 m \,r\-f t,. .*:«■ 412 rifE COMPLETE HOME "'^■' -e wore so old fal' , """"°°' ' ' <'"' ""' ='-»n, - ".ink. .„ :, ;: ;t: rirr "'rr '"' ^^-^ --^ Karsago! As for the „'„ '"-"'y-"''- or four lumdrcd .-.nd ... ..l,;;s:.t;c;„!'t:,;"°^"^=°''°='^- "giy too, for if one ,/xs ,„™d , " »""'"'=-"'°S'= «■"'<* be .iass,o,K. docs notwa:rlVI:;'"^' '°°''"^' '" *= bo doing i, i„ p„y,., ., """''' '° '<»<=>" ". nor wish ,o ^^^:?rwr:r:,r '■" "-^ -"■ ""■= ^'-- - ■■- "■^■ in.o.be™-sayatcWh'. '^^^^^^°'' '"' -''"io-.y gating fansr/;:::':,,!:::!:^'"::'':^' ■■''■"= °- -^ *- -r, '" ^" p-:a:::t o" rgrr^^^'^'''"*"-" -ver before .„o„gb. how ..g, ■ ! 7 fh'""'' '^^ """^^ ' vcUs, head-dresses, braccic "and ::,efs,: :r^' °'' ' *'■"• Parucs, to put dow„ our partners on . Who d T "7 '° . "Another pr.„he. complains of l,e wo ''"'■"'"" " into the sleeve, oftheir dresses." "'"» P'"°"^ "How hideous!" cried Behndi " M »uch a fashion now-a-days, °"= ""''''' """'' »' " I -should not lik-p fr. k,. not think of B„, tr^',, ""'"'^ "-' '" -"« Wly one would -1 a pair of ,i,.,e i,L ' ^^ 'j--'^ ' ^--^r .e^ bad, and which she told „, ' ""''"'' '">' "'<"'"='• lays, fastened in tL u^c :::7,r7 '" "" ^"^"' "'"*<' »ct out widely. Thev raav c r '"'• '" '"""' "'= ""■» > ., ,. , '^ '^> "'ay ramo m Cishion .i„ain •■ I Soever wear the„,-„ever," protested a°h„d. &ik ■i«!:it ATTENTION TO DRESS IN THE NOME. 413 , and the hoods, t a quantity of I did not dream nd styles ; only r four hundred blessing to lose glasses to carry aists, made of lose zuouM be ooking in the t, nor wish to 5SCS set in the lously gazing >f those very iit looking in go home; I ^ odd ! rings. we carry to ■hought it!" ing pillows d think of one would -mber very iiy mother y married - the arms '• " I used to hear people say, in looking at the portraits of Queen Elizabeth, where her majesty's waist and head look as if rising out of a hogshead — wherein she is standing, that if hoops came in fashion again, they would never wear them, and yet they did, great rccd-fiUcd skirts, as big as hogsheads, or even bigger ; absurd as Queen Elizabeth's." " I suppose," responded Belinda, meekly, " that there is no telling what one will do, when a fashion comes in. What is there more in the Bible about dress ? " " Paul writes in 2d Timothy : ' that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, not with broidered hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array.' " , " Why," said Belinda, argumentatively, " one would not want their hair hanging straight behind their ears like a wild Indian's : and I can't see wha* harm there is in gold, or pearls, or costly dress." " I do not fancy that Paul v/ould have approved of the wild Indian style of hair-dressing. You notice he says adorn, which suggests that he desired neatness and good taste, with a certain gravity and simplicity ; and as he suggests good works instead of the gold or pearls, or costly array, I presume that he meant to hint that as there is so much poverty and pain in the world to be relieved, so much ignorance to be instructed, so many .souls which need a preached gospel, and so much money required, to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, nurse the sick, and send the teachers to those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death, that the means of a Christian woman might far better be employed thus in behalf of doing good, and laying up treasure in heaven, than in procuring gold, pearls, or costly array. As to the hair, you will see yourself, Belinda, that there is a vast difference between dragging it negligently into a tumble-down knot, and puffing it, stuffing it, giving here a friz, there a braid, there a ringlet, there a plastered curl, there a braid of another .-^tylii, m M., .i till •^ ffiirirfii ■! mJ. 411 riTE COMPLETE HOME. that excessively ornate method of h:ur-dressing which is not for elegant comfort, but is for attracting attention-that. attention not the loving pleasure of our friends, but the insolent stare of passers on the street." "Now," said Belinda, uneasily, as she was not without fault in this respect, " what do some of those wise, good people-those divines, for instance— say about dress ? " I took down one of my "old-fashioned boofe " and read a fragment from good Bishop Hal. " In thy apparel avoid pro- fuseness, singularity, and gaudiness; let it be decent, and suited to the quality of thy place and purse. Too much punctuality, and too much moroseness, are the extremes of pride. Be neither tod early in the fashion, nor too long out of it, nor too precisely mit. What custom hath civilized hath become decent; until then it was ridiculous. Where the eye is the jury, the apparel IS the evidence ; the body is the shell of the soul ; apparel is the husk of the shell, and the husk will often tell you what the kernel is. Seldom does solid wisdom dwell under fantastic apparel ; neither will the jester fancy be inured within the walls of a grave habit. The clown is known by his motley coat." ^ "Why, how simple, easy, and full of common-sense, that sounds ! " said Belinda. " I wi,sh folks preached like that nowa- days : I would learn so much more than I do." "Would you? Now tell me, what was our minister's text yesterday, and whal was his subject?" " Why-y_y_I don't believe I know. In fact, I was looking most of die time at Grace Winton's new bonnet, aad at Mrs. Burr's lovely new tie." "Then perhaps our minister was giving us just as simple common-sense as Bishop Hall, and you missed it; and if you had been one of Bishop Hall's hc^arers vou might have been coneidering the extent of somebody's farthingale, or the velvet ATTENTION TO DRESS IN THE HOME. ich is not for hat- attention )lent stare of vithout fault iople — those ' and read a 1 avoid pro- t, and suited punctuality, Be neither 30 precisely ecent; until the apparel )parel is the u what the er fantastic within the his motley sense, that ;hat now-a- istcr's text 'as looking id at Mrs. as simple md if you riavc Dccfi the velvet 415 in their mantle. The fault is less in the words of preachers than in the ears of hearers." I suppose Belinda concluded that she had had instruction enough for that morning, so she soon went home. She did not forget our talk, however, but at the next Sewing Society detailed much of it to the roomful of young people who were working together in Mrs. Burr's back parlor; and just as I had finished distributing the work to the seniors in the front room, Grace Winton called me. "Aunt Sophronia, you are to come and sit with us, and answer for this new heresy you have been inculcating in Belinda Black. She says you have absolutely been warning her that she ought to think more about dress; that we all ought." I went in with a child's apron which I was making. " You all think too much about dress in the way of imagina- tion," I said. " There, Belinda ! " cried Cousin Ann's younger daughter : " I was quite sure that you were mistaiken." " For instance," I continued, " you spend hours in considering how you would look in a new walking-suit, or which of the new colors is most stylish, and would best suit your complexion. You spend whole days in trying to arrange a dress for a party — a dress which shall be just a little prettier than any one else would have ; you spend all church time wondering how you would look in somebody's new hat ; you spend on new trinkets, which you do not need, the money whicli you ought to give to the Missionary Society; you spend on over-doing your hair, time when you ought to be helping your mothers with the mending ; you stay away from prayer-mr ting to embroider you a jacket, or put another ruffle on a. petticoat ; you tease your fathers for more money than they can afford to spend on your winter outfit, and you coolly let your mother wear her old cait oi.c winter more, so that you can spend more aioney on the decorating of erne of your gowns." !»■ I !i 416 7//£ COMPLEIE HOME. i '1. "Oh, now, Aunt Sophronia!" cried the girls, indignantly. " Well, I knew a girl once who insisted on having One more dress in her winter outfit, although she knew that if it wcr« bought, her mother, instead of buying for herself one new and iiandsome dress, would be forced to get a very shabby thing for her only new gown ; and yet this girl needed the ext.a dress so little, that in packing up h^r trunk for school, she absolutely forgot it, and left it hanging in the closet, where it hung until after Christmas." " Now, Aunt Sophronia," .said Grace Winton, energetically, " that was as much the mother's fault as the girl's ; no mot) jr should be so weakly yielding, should so pander to the selfish- ncss of her child ; she should have brought her up better." " No doubt, Grace ; however, this girl did not live here in our town. Let me proceed to observe to you, that you do not think half enough about your dress — " " There ! what did I tell you ! " cried Belinda. " In the way of reason and common-sense. It is our duty to think about our dress ; to apply some of our very best thoughts to it. Ne.xt to the question of food, that of dress is the most important of physical questions which can be put to us. On our proper dressing much of our good health depends; if we do not have good health, we cannot have our brains in the best work- ing order; we shall be also captious, selfish, exacting, fretful, desponding ; demanding much of others, and able to do little for them. He who is an invalid, in God'.-? providence, is filling some niche made for him, and performing some part in creation; a part which may in the revealings of the next world shine out very beautifully ; but those who are invalids in virtue of their own folly, of their own disregard for plain laws of health, are leaving undone the work which God meant them to do, and are adding to the burdens of humanity. If you admit that health is. a m*ter of high importance, you must admit that the question lantly. one more if it wcr« ic new and y thing for ■a dress so absolutely lung until rrgetically, lo mot) jr he selfish- tter." ere in our not think IT duty to thoughts the most On our ve do not est work- g, fretful, • do little is filling creation ; shine out : of their ealth, are >, and arc health is qucstibn ATTENTION TO DRESS IN THE HOME. 417 of dress, which so much concerns that of health, is also very important. Therefore we must think about dress as it concerns health. But we may also see the question of dress lifted out of the range of the merely physical and put into the domain of morals. We are bound to think about dress as it concerns Imt- esty-hon^sty to God and to our neighbor. Another way in which we are to think about dress is as it concerns charity. Now if you faithfully debate with yourselves the question of dress as it has to do with health, honesty, and charity, and you uprightly carry out the convictions of duty at which you arrive, I think there will thereafter be no fault to be found with your dress, and that for thinking about it you will be more attractive in your- selves, more helpful in your homes, and more useful to the world at large." "Shall we begin by disregarding fashions?" asked Grace. "That old preacher from whom you read said not," said Belinda. " Fashion must be brought to the bar of common-sense, and must be tried by the laws of health, honesty and charity; if she has transgressed none of these, in a new device, then she has a right to promulgate it." " But I thought dress was a more matter of good taste," observed the eldest Miss Black. " Good taste will be secured when we meet the requirements of health, honesty and charity." " Do you think," asked Miss Black, "that it is a sin to wear ear-rings?" * " Not a sin," I replied, "if they are paid for. But I do not think that they are in good taste." "And in what respects not ? " " First, they are a relic of barbarism, which pierces the flesh to introduce ornaments. The grossest form of this injury of the body to ornament it, is in tattooing. Next, the piercing- the ear I, jfe 418 THE COMPLETE HOME. n . ! i 1 11 It t 1 1 \ : '. i \ \ \\ I il! ijL.^'1 all around its rim, piercing the nose and the lips to introduce rings or bars of jewelry — indeed, the fashion described by some African travellers, of stretching the lips entirely out of shape for rings and bars of metal, must be more hideous than any tattooing. Second, if the ear is beautifully made in itself, it is an ornament to the human head, which will only be marred by piercing it: the ring will injure its shape or otherwise detract from its beauty. Third, if the ear is less than perfect in its shape, then the ring simply attracts attention to its lack of beauty. If there is any coarseness in the skin, or lack of grace in contour, then the jewelry makes this more apparent; while if complexion and outline are perfect, then 'beauty unadorned is adorned the most ; ' anything violently intruded upon them, as the cutting of the flesh for the reception of a bauble, takes away something of their perfections. It is said that the Chapel of the De Medicean Tombs, in Florence, is more beautiful than beauty; if that is true in that case, it is in no other." "Aunt Sophronia," said Grace, "we are always quarrelling here, in a mild way, about frizzes. Do settle that for us." " If I settled it for you to-day, you would be all back to your own opinions to-morrow. However, I am quite ready to give you my views as to hair-dressing in general. First, then, great neatness should be observed in regard to the hair. Nature intended it as an ornament. It is several times mentioned in the Bible as a rare beauty. All the painters and sculptors have delighted in portraying it in grace and luxuriance. We should respect our own personal adornments and appearance, and try to improve them lawfully. All dyes and articles, to change the color of the hair, should be avoided as both dangerous and in bad taste. Nostrums for increasing its growth, restoring it, and so forth, are generally dangerous, as having in them lead and other poisons which are bad for the health, and in a variety of cases have produced skin diseases, paralysis, or disease of I to introduce bed by some of shape for IS than any in itself, it is >e marred by ■wise detract jerfcct in its its lack of ack of grace arent; while y unadorned upon them, aauble, takes t the Chapel )re beautiful ther." quarrelling )r us." lack to your ;ady to give :, then, great air. Nature nentioned in ulptors have We should nee, and try ) change the iirous and in restoring it, 1 them lead in a variety • disease of ATTENTION TO DRESS IN THE HOME. 419 the brain: avoid all these restoratives, rencwers and invig- orators of any kind. Use on the hair cold water, plenty cf brushing, and clean it when needful with a little tepid water and ammonia, rinsing it with tepid water and bay rum, and wiping and brushing it dry. All very tight or small braiding, all curling on irons, or with hot tongs, all crimping it on wires, bits of tin, hair-pins, or with hot pencils, is very injurious; it stiffens the hair, robbing it of its natural gloss and flexibility, and it burns and splits the e'^t^s, preventing further growth. The ends of the hair sJouid occ ionally be trimmed off with the scissors, and the hau 0/ child' m should be cut short until they are ten or eleven y-.-^c old. After fevers, or cases of severe illness, it is well to cut the hair short to produce a fresh and silken growth. Every person in dressing the hair should regard the method which will be becoming to their own faces, whether that method is the fashion or not. The fashion may be to roll the hair back from the face, but some people with very high, broad foreheads and prominent eyes, would have their appearance much injured by this fashion. Now beauty is a gift of God, and we should be glad to look as well as we can. Again, the fashion may be to bring the hair well down over the forehead, but with some people the forehead is the prettiest feature, which it is a pity thus to conceal. So let every one arrange their hair to suit their own faces. People should always take time enough to dress the hair neatly ; but I put it to your common-sense, is it right for a reasonable soul, set by God in a world full of work, to stand for hours before a glass dressing the hair? What good will the time thus spent be to them, or to any one else ? I also commend it to your thinking, how deplorable it is for any woman, old or young, to come down among her family in the morning, her front-hair twisted up in colored papers, or over strips of tin, her back-hair unbrushed, drawn hurriedly into an ungainly bunch, endj li' »l'-; 420 THE COMPLETE HOME. dangling, stray hairs flying, dust lying on the hair, and thus made hideous, she sits a sort of spectre at the family-table, spends the morning ovor her work, and by afternoon, or perhaps at nearly evening, she takes out tins and papers, frizzles and braids, curls and elaborates for strangers, possible guests, as she would not do for her own family; and she comes to the tea-table looking very fine, while at breakfast she was a most untidy spectacle. Is breakfast so unworthy a meal ? Is the image to be left for the day in the mind of father, husband or brother of so little consequence ? And, lastly, as to dressing the hair — is it right, is it becoming to modest maids, to women professing religion, to elaborate and tower up their hair, their own and quantities bought, filling it out with rats and cushions, folds, puffs, bands, braids, curls, loops, frizzes, to attract the gaze of people, kin and strangers, promiscuously, to the face ? Behold the extremes: the woman of the Orient hides her face under a big veil, as if to be seen were pollution ; the woman of the Occident draws her hair far from her face, decorates it in a fashion to attract all eyes, sets her hat as far as possible from her countenance, and goes out, intent on being stared at." The girls all laughed, and some of them blushed. " What have you to say about high-heeled boots — real high, narrow, French heels ? We are always disputing over them," said Belinda. "They are among the most dangerous things in the world." " Oh, they're not dangerous when you are used to them. You can soon walk on them without tripping." " It is when you have got used to them that they arc most dangerous. The human figure was meant to stand erect, well planted upon its feet: whatever throws the body out of this ordaii ' d equipoise disturbs nearly all of its functions. These iiigh, narrow heels — placed not under the heel, but far forward Ande'. the foot — destroy the proper position of the spinal column ATTENTION TO DRESS IN THE HOME. ir, and thus family-table, 1, or perhaps frizzles and c: guests, as omes to the was a most :al? Is the , husband or to dressing Is, to women ir hair, their nd cushions, attract the o the face? ides her face ;e woman of urates it in a ble from her i — real high, over them," le world." ed to them. icy arc most J erect, well out of this ons. These : far forward linal column 421 m "valking. With this column you must know that our nerves ire closely connected. To these high and ill-placed heels, which destroy the balance of the body, may be attributed much of the prevalent spinal disease, a very large proportion of the diseases and weakness of the eye, and not a few cases of insanity. A famous oculist, one of the most famous in the world, when a patient goes to him, instead of first looking at the eye, says: 'Allow me to see your feet;' and if i.o sees a high- heel, a narrow, ill-placed heel, he says: 'Go and get a pair of shoes with low, squarely-set heels put under the heel of your foot, and then I will examine into your eye trouble, and begin to prescribe. I can do nothing for eyes where the spine is so thrown out of place by improper shoes.' The posture of the figure, forced upon the wearers of these shoes, is ungraceful in the extreme, and so is the gait. None of the old art masters ever chiselled or drew such figures as topple above a modern boot. The poets did not mean this plunging, tottering pace when they said : " 'And in her step the goddess was revealed.' " "These high-heeled boots are generally too tight, among their other faults," said Mary Watkins. " VVe laugh at the Chinese for squeezing their feet, and then we squeeze our own ; and between putting the foot in a false position for its work, throwing the weight on the front of the foot, and then cramping that, I think the feet of many American women are as badly treated as those of Chinese women." " I think," said Sara, " that this propensity of human beings to pinch and compress some part of their bodies must he a tcniptation of the evil one to harm that which is made in God's tribe of Indians which presses tlic head out of shape ; the Chinese devote their deforming proclivities to the feet; and ■i i I ■fill n 422 7//£ COMPLETE HOME. nations called civilized, especially the English, French and Americans, crowd and compress the waist. Which is worse ? " "To compress the waist is surely worse than to squeeze the feet," said Mary, " for there we displace and hinder the action of organs more vital; wc interfere with circulation, digestion and breathing, destroying possibilities of good blood; the com- plexion is ruined, being made rough and broken from watery blood, or is sallow and bloodless; the gracefulness of the step is destroyed by distorting the muscles of the siJes and hips- people are languid, short-breathed, faint and hysterical, all because they think they arc better artists than God, and know better how a human figure should look." "You cannot .oo .strongly decry this practice of compressing the waist," said Hester. " Physicians condemn it as destructive of human health, and artists scout it as ruinous to human beauty. When I was abroad and visited all the famous galleries of pictures and statuary in France, Italy and Germany. I noticed how very different the artist's idea of beauty is from that of the modern mantua-maker and the modern young ladv. The arti.st draws or sculptures hair lightly waved or gracefully bound about the head, conforming to its contour, and not soliciting attention; the figure is erect, the shoulders thrown back the head well poised, not thrown forward from the hips at an anHe of thirty degrees, with the chin thrust into the air. as modern high heels demand ; the wai.st has its free, natural curves, well developed, no narrowness, no sudden drawing in like the hideous body of a wasp, which many women apparently con- sider a moud of beauty. One would think humanity had been striving to render itself, u., far as po.ssible, unlike the ideals of the old masters." ^^ " It is all very well. Hester, for you to talk," said Miss Bi .ck. ''when you have a figure which needs no helping: you and Grace Winton can afford to let your figures be as they were made." French and h is worse?" ) squeeze the • the action of digestion and d; the com- from watery of the step is 2s and hips; lysterical, all )d, and know compressing IS destiuctive IS to human lous galleries ny, I noticed "rem that of : lady. The efully bound lot soliciting 'n back, the at an angle ', as modern curves, well in like the arently con- ity had been he ideals of Miss Hi ,ck, j: you and s they were I ATTENTION TO DRESS IN THE HOME. Pi'! 423 "Perhaps the whole secret of that is," said Hester, "that Grace and I have never given our fiijures any hindering; they grew as God made them, as anybody's might do. I doubi if there is any one in this room, except Grace and mj^self, who. from childhood, never had any tight or compressing article of dress." " Now," cried Belinda, " I want to hear what Aunt Sophrjnia thinks of trains, long-trained gowns — things I doat on!" " I'm sorry that you do," I said, " for I shall condemn your hobby at once. If trains are ever admissible, they belong to elderly ladies of somewhat stately figure, who use them for afternoon wear in their own houses, where there is no dust and dirt to make them revolting, or for such ladies at evening parties. The train is, from its weight and from its dragging upon the back, owing to its resistance as it sweeps over objects, a very disadvantageous thing for health. It impedes free motion, and falling about in wet weather in the streets, collects dampness around die feet and ankles. The train is wasteful and extravagant ; it is seriously in the way of its wearer and of other people, while, as it becomes draggled, dirty, wet, and frayed from wear, it is an object abominable to behold. It is one of those styles of dress, like huj^e hoops, enormous bustles, and great chignons, designed to attract attention, a thing which no womanly woman should desire to do. Besides, I think a train is not modest for street wear. The train is caught up in one hand ; in so doing, the train and the side of the dress are lifted often far above the ankles in a way really immodest. If a person appeared on the streets with a dress as far from the ground as the dress is frequently lifted by the train-wearer, she would be liable to insults, possibly to arrest. A dress hanging easily and gracefully, and clearing the ground in its entire cir- cumference, is the only reasonable style of walking-dress for a lady. Such a dress is healthful, clean, docs not weight the ' i''!!!' 1'^ ^.;.,i * if, ' > h II 1 1 1 ' ' i I V 1 ll K 424 T//£ COMPLETE HOME. wearer, does not impede the step, nor occupy the hahds; the chest and arms can be freely and naturally carried. The trouble is, that women do not stop to consider what is suitable to its use, to their own means, and to their own appearance ; but they are carried away by an idea of fashion, so that women professing godliness a.e ruled in so very important a matter as dress by fashion which knows no godliness, and which may promulgate styles which were invented by very ungodly women indeed. But, my dear girls, do you not see that you might question what I thought of this, that, and the other item of dress, and my opinion would simply be an opinion ? In a few hours your preferences or your prejudices would forget my arguments, even if they had at first commended themselves to you : you would furnioh yourselves with new reasons for your previous course. What we need, is not to clip at externals, at branches, but to strike at roots. There must be great underlying principles upon which to rest; we must, as I told you, argue of our dress on the grounds of healthfulness, honesty and charity, an. • hen in all these respects a fashion is unimpeachable, then v arc right in adopting it." It was now tea-time, and Mrs. Burr came to the back uarlor, saying : " Miss Sophronia, you have abandoned us elders to-day to fall into scandal, gossip, slander, to quarrel over our minister, to devour each other : the evil will lie at your door." I am not afraid," I replied, " for in these respects all of you ladies are a Committee of tho Public Safety." Shortly after this my nieces were spending an afternoon with me, and this subject of dress was renewed. I said that it was a subject which concerned greatly the happiness and well-being of home. Dress had much to do with health, ar ' •. h was one of the most important home questions. Fxti \t.p ,e in dress had a sad effect on the prosperity of a home ; households had been ruined in reputation and in fortune V' cxliavagancc, ATTENTJON TO DRESS IN THE HOME. 425 hatids; the rhe trouble : to its use, at they are professing s dress by )romulgate en indeed, t question dress, and lours your lents, even ^ou would us course, es, but to iples upon ess on the lien in all c right in ick parlor, crs to-day r minister, all of you noon with it it was a vell-bcing s h was .T -<^ in Dusehoids avagancc, ambition and emulation in dress; neatness in dress added much to the cheerfulness and beauty of home ; a thoughtful avoidance of over-dress made our neighbors, especially those of narrow nieans, more comfortable in church, and in companies or social gatherings where we met them. I have known women who were confirmed invalids, from a foolish, dangerous style of dressing. I knew of a mother who lost five of her children with croup, death constantly shadowing her household ; and this mother, while in good circumstances, yet applied so little com- mon-sense to dress, that her delicate children wore no flannels, and went with bare neck and arms in the "/inter! Another mother of my acquaintance lost all her six children with scarlet fever, losing them two by two in several successive winters; these children, elaborately dressed, went around the house and out walking, with two or three inches of bare blue leg exposed between the short stocking and the embroidered band at their knees. An acquaintance of mine was so mad after extravagant dress for herself and daughters that, without the knowledge of her husband, she ran up a debt of two thousand dollars at one store, for dry goods, and to settle this her husband was obliged to give up a lot which he had toiled hard to purchase, and which would within six years have been worth ten thousand dollars to him. This woman's daughters all married, and the husbaiid of each one became a bankrupt. Another person whom I have in my mind was of a .saving, industrious turn, with very little idea of fitness or beauty. She would go about all day with her hair rough and untidy ; no collar or cufTs, a soiled kitchen apron, or an ungainly frock, her shoes broken and trodder, liwn at the heel. Her husband became afraid to invite a friend to go home with him, being almost certain to find his wife too untidy to be seen ; her children, as .soon as they were grown, experienced the same shame; al' began to stay away from home to find friends, ill -^tr 426 THE COMPLETE HOME. i S and the household was entirely destitute of fanal}'- comfort or of home-feeling. Such instances as these should sl\ovv us that dress /tas much to do with the happiness and prosperity of home, and consequently we should make it r. study .egarding its bearing on health, honesty, tharity. "I wish," said Helen, "that >.mi would discuss it practically for my benefit as regards health." "Dress," 1 resumed, "is designed for covering, for i.Rin- tainlng a proper warmth in our bodies, and in so dotr-T to leave our musrular action free and unimpeded. If we look at the lower orders of animals, we shall see that the clothing which grows ti;-::n them is altered in its warmth fro.., season to season: the hot^e thins out his hair, and the bird his feather-coat in the hot weather; not an animal has a covernvT which checks growth, motion, respiration, circulation. Did C.>d mean man to be wor.e off in his clothing than a brute ? He i^ left to provide his own clothing, and given facilities for so doing, that this clothing may scrupulously suit his conditions. We should change our garments with the changes of season : not fancy that we can harden ourselves to going all the year round with the same amount of underclothes. We should reason that a kind of underclothes which would prevent our feeling sudden changes in temperature would be suitable to us, so that the falling dew, a thunder-gust, a cold wind, would not chill us, producing, possibly, a dangerous congestion. In winter, we should wear heavy flannels; in autumn and spring, those that are lighter; in summer, a thin, gauze flannel, but some undergarment of this kind should be always worn. The feet should be well pro- tected. Fashion may prescribe thin shoes, but r ommon-scnse says. No : shoes must be thick enough to kee ■ .t dampness, and the. chill of cold pavements. The head . 5 a screen. Fashion .say. , ,\it the bonnet far off fix, f»^ ce, leaving the top of the h. • ' and the ears exposed to ■ . '^ut, light or cold. ATTENTION TO DRESS IN THE HOME.' 427 comfort or of show us that erity of home, regarding its it practically ig, for ir-nin- loii*^;- to leave : look at the othing which on to season : sr-coat in the 'hich checks mean man to ift to provide ng, that this We should ot fancy that und with the that a kind den changes falling dew, , producing, should wear are lighter ; ment of this le well pro- mmon-sense t dampness, 5 a screen. leaving the ght or cold Deafness and weak eyes prevail marvellously, and people com- plain of their inisforluncs. Rather, this is their fault, because they did not regard their dress in its relationship to health. Clothes should not be too heavy, dragging on back and hips, and producing spinal and other diseases. They should be made of fabrics warm enough without being weighty, and there should not be loaded upon them a mass of trimming, which wearies the wearer more than to do a day's work. The weight of the clothes should be borne by the shoulders, which in their formation are fitted to sustain burdens, and will not be harmed by a reasonable amount. Our dress should be more plentiful out-of-doors than in-doors, and when riding than when walking. The throat should be protected in cold, damp or windy weather. Some seasons fashion allows a throat to be dressed high, and other seasons demands that it should be open and exposed to all inclemency of the temperature. But the throat does not vary with th-^se changes, and needs as much protection at one time as at another. In-doors, too, in stormy, penetrating weather, we should add to our clothes. It is idle to say ' it looks foolish ' to get an extra wrap on a day when we do not feel comfortably warm : it looks wise to preserve as far as pos- sible an even temperature. The fashions for children vary in a way reckless of infantile life. One while, they wear reasonable stockings, high over the knees, and dresses up to the throats, and sleeves down to the w'sts, and high boots; then, with chests, and legs, and necks well covered, they are comfortable, and their health is in a large measure .secured. At other times, bare legs, necks and arms are the style, and the little unfor- tunates shiver into croup and scarlet fever. Dress your chil- dren warmly and healthfully, no matter what fashion says. Even in summer do not expose bare necks and arms to evening air. Also, keep a pair of long, woollen stockings on hand, so that if a cold comes to them in summer, or they arc attacked t 1 Ill I 428 r//E COMPLETE HOME. »..h any d,sease of the stomach, <. anything akin-.o cholera morbus, the woollen stockings n,ay at once be put on. Dress should never compress the part of the body it covers: tight arm-holes, t,gh, boots, tight waists, tight bands and belts are all mjunous They hinder the free circulation of blood, the action of hcart,Iungs and digestive organs, cause headaches, dyspepsia worn TT T °""" ""P'""'^- ^' '"' ""-"• "'-<"-' won t,g,,t aoA,^^, put on for a week loose bu, well-supported clothes^not garments which slip about and feel as if they would drop oft and as soon as the first discomfort of change is gone fta rehef from pressure will be so marked and ddi:htful as to assure one of .ts usefulness. When you intend to buy, or have made, any article of dress, ask yourself whether it is suitable for . s purpose m covering, whether in lightness and easiness of ft ir, T -.f "-P--'- - dragging of the muscles, whether „ wul be warm enough for the season and place where It IS to DC worn. .lary Watkins had not come with my nieces that day, but he heard from them something of the talk, and as I was wsitrng l^r within a week or two, she told me she would be httsj; ""' "'" '" "' "°" "' '""• " " '-»'"*" ■■Our honesty," I said, '■concern, our dealings with God and wth our fe low-men. We owe God a part of our substance, however httle we have, we owe a part of that little to God Among the Hebrews poverty did not exempt from orering sacn ce; but ,t regulated the value of the saerifie. : the princ! could offer a bullock, the poor woman a young pigeon.' W g,ve accordmg to our ability, bu. we must give something. Th,s s a duty; wo should also feel it to be a privilege. Therf- wl be, that we must not spe-nd so much in proportion to our means, on our dre.ss, that we cannot give something ,o the ATTENTION TO DRESS IN THE HOME. 429 service of God. Honesty to our fellow-creatures in our dress demands first that we shall not dress better than we can afford, SO that we shall be in debt for our dress. What right have I to wear a velvet cloak at the expense of the storekeeper for material, and the dressmaker for making it ? I might as well be a beggar out-and-out, and go and ask them to give me a coat ; indeed it \\ ould be far more honorable to squarely beg for it, than to obtain it on false pretences, pretending that I am able to pay for it, and mean to pay for it, when I cannot. Honesty in our dress demands that all that we have in material and making should be paid for promptly, but it requires more than this. If I am possessed of no capital, and am earning three, five, seven hundred dollars a year, I have no right to lay out that much each year. If I spend all that I have, and do not get in debt, I am not dealing really honestly with the community, for every hour I am liable to meet with an accident, to fall ill, to become blind or crippled, and so be a pauper on society, forcing my fellows to take care of me. Even if through all the ordinary working years of my life I am a bread-winner, still age is likely to come; few able-bodied people die in harness, and for age, honesty to our fellows demands that we should make a pro- vision. Therefore, we are not regarding scrupulous honesty in our expenditures when we live up to the limit of our income, without overstepping it, for we are bound in honesty to con- stantly prererve a margin, to lay up some proper provision, although it may be a slender one, which will provide for us in old age, or in incapability from any cause. " So you see, Mary, you must, when you consider your dress on the ground of honesty, dress so that you can give something to God's work, so that you can pay for all that you buy, and that yo'.i "j'l Jl not dress so well as to prevent your frugally lay. ing by ^ ; ething for time of need. If people scrupulously regarded honesty in their dress, they would be removed froni , I HI ' % m ■;|lr'|' [ill n ■¥ ri -'.^ , ( • 1 1 lid ^ ' 1 1 f! ^' i If 430 r///- COMPLETE HOME. th.s pa.nf.,1 emulation ,. fashion, which makes so many people miserable. The question with them would be-not what every one has ur does, but, 'What is suitable to my own means and pos.fon ? ' People would get on that honorable ground of being laws unto and judges for themselves. The young clerk in a store would not feel that sh ..us. a.oss like Ihe banker's wife uho comes to her counter; the young girl in the safe, sensible society of the country, whose walks lie through rural roads, or HI quiet village streets, would not feel possessed to get those ilaunting styles which some fashion paper declares to her are worn on Broadway or Chestnut street. Let her consider that she, snot to appear on those streets; that she fortunately has something to do in this world more than to idle, worry and grow old before her time; that her father's means are represented in land and cattle, and not in '.ank stock, and that it i^ not needful for her to spend eveiy cent of her ready money in dress. " Now, Mary, these sober, common-sense views of what we shall wear are not likely to be assumed in a day when we are grown up ; they should grow up with us. If our women are to dress healthfully, honestly, charitably, then our girls must be brought up to have right views of dress, an:l to think right thoughts abou.: it r.gin wii., your children, in p-.ecept. example, and practice. Don't bring up the little girl to value people for what thev ^ave on ; to centre all h.^ little thoughts upon clothes ; to make dress the staple of her conversation I et her thmk with simplicity about dres« ond then she will ^n-ss with smiplicity, and simplicity s a t.nng beautiful in itself, hke clear light. Let your child' , ss ' so comfortabL . > plenti- rul so suitable to the time a. pla md need, so tasteful, and. Withal, so plain, that it will seen, to her a part of hersel i matter of course, and she will not think of it in fretfulncss, or vanil or over-carefulness, but by the time she has grown up it will have ATTENTION TO DRESS IN THE HOME. 431 become a habit with her to app.y her reason, her common-sense, to her dress, and to have it in accordance with the laws of health! honesty and charity. Mothers little think when they lavish, in the hearing of their children, praises on people's clothing, admi- ration on 'children who are so elegantly dressed,' envious wishes that they could procure thus and so for their children, that they are training these children to make of dress and fashion an idol, on the altar of which they may, in saddest truth, offer them- selves in sacrifice." Belinda Black had com. i to see Mary while we were talk- ing, and had taken her place beside me. She cried : " Still this vexed question of dress; what a worry it is! Don't you think it is a pity that there are not some laws to govern it— state laws, say, and then we would all know just what we could and should wear, and if we put on a thing, we should not be accused of extravagance, nor if we left it off, of penurionsness. Suppose, for instance, the law was that where people had a thousand a' year, they might have such and such things, and where they had t^vo, five, ten, twenty thousand, such other things. There is som. ing like that in my Telemaque, where Mentor at Salente has tiA citizens divided up in orders, each order to wear such and such texture and color of clothes. What a saving of worry ! " " I told you lately," I said, " that legislators had passed laws about dress. You have reverted to the ancient idc.i of sump- tuary laws, such as were passed by Henry VII., Henr; VI H.. and other sovereigns, ordaining whether a man's coat was to be taffetas or xelvet or woollen ; how many gowns, and of what material, his wife was to possess ; how many leathern breeches were lawful to him, and how long might be the toes of his boots, with other rules relating to his household expenses. These laws fitted rather the' chihihood and youth of the race than its sober maturity; we cannot make laws to fit the thousand and en \:\ ^'i'-W ■ , ( 1 432 !! TJ/E COMPLETE HOME. one causes and exceptions of our lives, but we can find govern, ing principles whereby we are bound to try and guide our ways." My next conversation on dress was with Miriam. She said to me: "Aunt Sophronia. is not the question of beauty to be largely considered in regard to dress? Ought we not to cultivate beauty in our apparel ? " j' Certainly we ought," I replied. " It is important indeed." "Then, where in your argument of dress, under the heads of health, honesty and charity, does beauty find its place ? " " Under the head of chanty r I replied, promptly ; " we owe it to charity to be all of us as beautiful and look as beautiful as we can." " Let me hear something, then, if you please, of the way in which you would reason of dress as it regards charity." "There is no person," I said, "without some ideas of beauty and fitness. All eyes rest with comfortable approbation on the neat, graceful and harmonious. They may be pleased without knowing why, but they are pleased none the less. The little child's face lights up at sight of the ribbon-knot at its mother's throat and the flower in her hair. The little boy's first knightly gallantly awakens in his satisfaction at his little sister fresh clean, smiling, though her tiny gown may be only of the poet's 'sprinkled pink;' and in viewing his mother neat and tasteful m her work, though the hair may have no ornament but its own shining smoothness, and the gown may be a cheap calico If only the colors are in good taste, if fit and fashion are good' If collar and knot relieve the throat. The husband, weary from' work in field, or oflfice, or store, comes to his home, and sudden rest falls on him like a mantle, when he sees by a neat hearth children with smooth heads and clean pinafores, and the wife who has not forgotten the pretty wiles of dress wherewith she' m. She said ATTENTION TO DRESS IN THE HOME. 433 first pleased his eye. If the lover has a pleasure in seeing shining teeth, well-dressed hair, neat hands, a well-"shod foot, a throat • tastefully arranged, has the husband necessarily so deteriorated that he will care for none of these things? We owe it of dear charity to the taste of our households, that when we dress in the morning we shall put our clothes on neatly, and make our persons acceptable to the eye, .that when we come to the table, from whatever work, we shall come clean and respectable; not with sleeves rolled up, gown open at the throat, and dirty apron. Cousin Ann has always had plenty of work to do and often hard work, but she always kept her hair and feet neat, a clean collar on, and a white apron, and a knot of ribbon on hand in a table-drawer, to slip on before sitting down at a meal, or meeting a guest. We owe it to this family charity not to sit on Sabbath, between services, arrayed in a frayed wrapper and ragged slippers, on the plea that ' we are tired and nobody coming : ' we shall be no more tired if we are decent. Indeed, when very tired, a change of clothes and a bath are very resting;' and we should always feel that our charity in dress begins at home, and dress as suitably and tastefully as we can for the family satisfaction. This is an example that mothers owe to daughters, and mistresses to maids; a courtesy due to hus- bands, fathers, sons, brothers. Pursuing this charity of decency in our dress, we should beware of getting gaudy, tawdry, slazy goods for clothing— things which will be soon frayed, spotted, faded, and make us deplorable spectacles as we are ' wearing them out." It is better to have few clothes than very many-^ few, but 'enough for all needs; having many dresses, they become old-fashioned, and we are encumbered with a quantity of half-worn things. Let us be careful in keeping our clothes well repaired, renewing them in style and trimming, so that they wiil look decent as long as we wear them. A good, sub- stantial article can be used respectably as long as it lasts, and 28 434 r//£ COMPLETE HOME. !-| {i* will pay for making over. Let us consider that it is a true charity to gratify good taste, and there are certain ahnost universal laws of taste which we can gratify in our dress without extravagance, or over-devotion of time and labor to the subject. In buying our clothes we .should buy what is becoming in color, pattern and style. A large woman, or a very tiny woman, looks absurd in thick, rough, heavy cloths, which i.ced a tall and moderately slender figure to cany them well. A little lady looks pretty in delicately sprigged or spotted lawns and linens, wherein a big lady becomes a dowdy. A tall woman can wear plaids and flounces : they reduce her apparent size and become her well, while they give the little woman the shape of a butter-tub. Short, thick women look ill in shawls, and stout women should not venture on wearing furs. A fair woman is lovely in blue, but licr dark sister is made ugly by that beautiful color. A big, red, double-chinned face should not wear a small, light, airy, delicate hat, even if such hats 'are all the style : ' for the white lace, the dainty, drooping plume, the spray of forget-me-nots, or hyacinths, brings broadly into relief the redness, thickness, or freckles of the skin; the small hat makes the big face still more like a sunflower, or a pumpkin blossom. Let the large face be framed in a hat large enough to become it, wide or high to suit figure and feature ; and let the dark, florid face beware of scarlet, pink or blue placed near it; so surrounded by what becomes it, the large face is handsome,' matronly, reposeful. Gaudy colors should not be worn in the street. They are ill taste in spite of fashion. The young lady can wear brighter and lighter fabrics than the mature nmtron. Children should wear small-patterned goods. The prudent housewife, intent on charity to her husband's resources, will buy for herself what can possibly be afterwards tastefully used for her children ; for older girls, what may be made over fbr their juniors. A black silk, a good black alpaca, a brown linen liil' ar it is a true certain almost in our dress and labor to I buy what is woman, or a heavy cloths, to carry them r sprigged or )mcs a dowdy, cy reduce her give the little t-omcn look ill I wearing furs. ■ is made ugly ;d face should iuch hats ' arc ng plume, the Jiy into relief the small hat •r a pumpkin ■ge enough to ; ; and let the accd near it ; is handsome, : worn in the ! young lady iture matron, riie pruiient rces, will buy uliy used for vjcr for their brown linen ATTENTION TO DRESS IN THE HOME. 435 and a nice merino, are dresses always safe to buy, suitable to almost any age, to any complexion, and to almost any circum- stances. "Another view which we can take of dress as it regards charity IS, that when we go to social gatherings we should consider the circumstances of the host, and of the company which we arc likely to meet, so that by a superfluous elegance of dress we shall not make some plainer neighbor feel awkward and ill- dressed. If you send a child, elaborately decorated in silk embroideries and jewelry, to some child's gathering, where the' other l.ttle ones are in lawn or linen, you foster pride in your own child, prevent its hearty play and enjoyment, and provoke envy m the others. So in our church, we should take care not to go notably more richly dressed than the other worshippers Indeed, for church, I admire qfliet, neat, simple dress; forsaking the pomps and vanities, the world, the flesh and the devil, .-md appearing in the Lord's courts laden down with the world's trappings, arc hardly consistent. Don't dress a child or young girl so gorgeously that, when she is grown up. all f-^.shion is exhausted for her. and she must weep and perplex herself for more worlds to conqu< r. For ornaments use many flowers: a .spray of leaves or flowers is in order anywhere, from the family breakfast to the evening party. Ribbons of becoming hue, and fresh and unsoiled, arc also suitable everywhere, with the calico wrapper or the evening silk. Wear little jewelry; a piling on of gold pins, rings, tinkling bracelets, ponderous chains, is decidedly barbaric taste. Don't wear a watch to do hou.se.' work. A small bow, a pearl arrow, or other ornament of jet, pearl or shell, is tasteful in the hair. Neither be lavish in small ornaments nor despise them, and by taking care of what you have you will always be able to apjicar suitably arrayed. Lastly, never get an article too splendid for the rest of your wardrobe." i'. If v. d ■ $■. • I : "'fl -'1 J'fl W' I 111 I !♦ ! i;: f 1*1 rl 1 ' t! CHAPTER XVIII. MISTRESS AND MAID IN THE HOME. AUNT SOPHKONIA's VIEWS OF OUR DUTIES TO SERVANTS ^y>^HE more that I consider the affairs of Home, the more C' III J . ' c M am 1 iinprcssc'd with tlie importance of the servant's IfriC position, I low much of our home-order, health, econ- ^ omy, cheerfuhiess, is dependent upon the domestic! I think the interest, value and duty of this relation are too seldom appreciated, its permanency is. undervalued. Not only is our relation to our servant •; or our discharge of duty to them, a matter of iniporf." own especial Households, but it is of moment to j state. In this relation, as in the rearing of our clii.... • .1,0 Hon.f; reaches beyond itself, and builds or destroys in other liomcs. If we take a young girl into our house for a servant, and find her ignorant, careless, untidy, generally the first impulse is to discharge her, and find better help. But stop a moment. Do we not owe this girl something— a debt of our common humanity? Possibly she is an orphan, and has had no one interested to instruct her ; or she may have parents and friends who are ignorant and sliifiless, products of the lack of training of a former generation, and they have known no good habits to impart to this girl. Suppose wc do send her aw.iy : who is there upon whom she has a greater claim, who will take up the task ihat wc reject and make this girl a useful woman ? If no one noes this, what is to be expected ? She will be the «iirly and Wa.steful wife of some poor man, confirming him In all his evil (430) i»r 4' IE. SERVANTS. ome, the more tlie servant's •, health, econ- domestic! I ire too seldom 3t only is our ity to them, a lolds, but it is lion, as in the )nd itself, and a scr\'ant, and irst impulse is ap a moment. our common s had no one Its and friends ck of training ■jood habits to ' : who is there :e up the task 1 ? If no one the dirty and in all his evil MISTRESS AND MAID IN THE HOME. 437 habits, and bringing into the world a brood of semi-beggars, filthy, ragged and unschoofed, to be the criminals and paupers of a generation to come. How much worse is every town for one such degraded family? They arc drunkards, thieves, mur- derers, incendiaries. What will it not cost the public to look after them, from the hour when charity accords to their child- hood cold victuals and cast-off clothes, through years of pau- perism, tramping, criminal prosecutions, jails, hospitals, the potter's field? Besides this positive loss, there will be the negative loss. Mow much better might not the state have been for these half-dozen sturdy rascals, if they had grown into intelligent citizens, law-abiding heads of families, taxpayers, soil- cultivators, mechanics, inventors ? We who, from indolence or vexation, fail to take the part of making a young woman what she should be, if there is in herself any quality to second our efforts— a quality which we can elicit by persevering, kindly care— are neither doing our part in the world as good citizens, nor as good Christians. Again, we often have in our houses girls who are pretty good workers, cleanly, pleasant ; they suit us very well, and we keep them : but while they are in our family they are not of it ; we do not interest ourselves in them ; we give them uo friendly counsel ; we do not look forward to their future, and help them to provide for it; they are lonely in our houses— that tic of home and friendly interest which every woman craves is lacking to them. Our daughters, young friends, and relatives, who are in them- selves better instructe 1 by reading, example, and observation, we carefiilly prepare for their future liome-life, guard their ac- quaintanceships, arc anxious lest they marry too hastily, or throw themselves away ; but we do not think of these things for our maid. So presently, left unwarned and uncounselled. without coni.dants or guardian.s, she marries when there arc no .savings wherewith to start a home; when she has no substantial ward- 1 I !l il I ■ • B * HBw '1 ^^^ ^Bi IP ■' B W''^' ^K^t i 'H 438 TJ/£ COMPLETE HOME. robe; no little store of bedding, and household linen, and crockery; when she is indeed too young to assume the cares of married life ; when the one small room which will be her home is but half-furnished; and so before her will lie a life of poverty, toil, discouragement, children for whom she cannot provide, possibly beggaiy ; and again by our negligence the home, which might be a blessing and a tower of strength, is never built ; the town has one less flourishing household^ and one more family perpetually on the verge of ruin; the state just so many Ics.. efficient citizens. The trouble is that we forget in considering our servants our common womanhood ; they are viewed by us as chattels, as animated machines to perform for us such and such offices, and, in regarding them, we forget the human tie, that God has made of one blood all the nations of the earth; that in Clirist we and our servants may become kin ; that the believing servant may be received by us as Onesimus by Phile- mon — as a brother beloved. There are differences, it is true — differences in station, in liabits of thought, in associations, in methods of pleasure ; these differ- ences are neither for our making nor for our abrogating, nor arc they necessarily for discomfort, and regretting on cither hand, if each, as mistress and maid, does duty honestly, and cordially respects the position of the other. I often hear Mrs. Black using the expression, " Nobody but the servants," very much as if she would indicate nobody at all Now Mrs. Black is not an unkindly woman, but she regards her servants and speaks of them veiy nnich as one would of a horse or a cow; she seems entirely to forget a common humanity. I tolcl her once that this struck me painfully; I thought it was un- just to the .servant as an individual, unjust to ourselves who had the same organs, emotions, manner of birth, human ties, pro.'fpect of death, and possessed inmiortality; md unjust to God, who made us all of one blood, and in one image — his image, in rac\i Id linen, and le the cares of I be her home ife of poverty, nnot provide, i home, which :vcr built ; the e more family so many les., in considering viewed by us us such and le human tie, of the earth; kin; that the nus by Phile« ition, in habits : ; these diffcr- jating, nor are :;ither hand, if and cordially " Nobody but nobody at all 10 regards her uld of a horse humanity. I i[ht it was un- .'Ives who had ties, prospect to God, who mage, in fac^i MISTRESS AND MAID hV THE HOME. 439 and the image is His, whether cast in clay more or less lefined, as a statuette might be a copy of the Venus of the l.ouvre, whether the statuette were moulded in common clay, in iron- stone ware, in china, porcelain, or best Sevres. I said : " Does it make Martha less human, less an individual, to be respected and sympathized with, that the Lord gave hot to begin with larger hands, stronger muscles, and more simple tastes and surroundings than mine ? so that these largely developed muscles and narrower tastes, united to her sturdy honesty and valiant common-sense, have put her for years in the position of an invaluable maid, to whom I try to be a reason- able and sympathizing mistress." " It is easy enough for you to talk that way. Miss Sophronia," said Mrs. Black : " everybody knows what a model servant Martha is; if you had my servants to deal with, you would change your views, I fancy. Here's Martha — been with you fifteen years or more, and my girls I get so exasperated with that I rush into the kitchen and discharge them about once in jix months, and new ones prove no better." " If I had discharged Martha at the end of six months, she would not have been here for fifteen years," I said. " She was not half as valuable to me the first year as now. Six months is hardly enough to get thoroughly into the ways of a household; certainly not enough to attain a fixed, vital and affectionate in- tercut in it and all its member.«. These virtues in a domestic arc matters of natural growth; they do not spring fully armed outx)f her head as Minerva from the head of Jove. Do you not Ihink some of the defects which irritate you v\ your servants might be conquered by your keeping them longer, and educat- ing them in your ways, and also by your feeling more human sympatliy with them; showing that interest; trying to interest them in their work and in you; letting them feel ns if they had ft friend in the house; as if the house was, while they remained if' ^40 THE COMPLETE HOME. in it, their home? Perhaps they see that you do not expect them to do very well ; that you are on the watch for faults rather than for virtues. Suppose you treat them with confidence and consideration; do not blame them hastily; something that ha^ been done wrong — some breakage, or loss, or careless act — may not be theirs at all, and it will seem hard to them to be regarded as naturally the ill-doers — the black sheep of the household. " More or less, we must trust our servants ; they come into the inner life of the home in such a manner that, by all the members of the family, they must, in a measure, be trusted ; it cannot be helped that they shall hear what we say; see what we do; understand our circumstances, our losses, our possessions; suspect many things which perhaps we thought quite out of the range of their knowledge. Now thus placed, no quality in them is more valuable than tnistwortliincss, and there is nothing which more develops this than to be trusted. If we persist in regard- ing our servants as spies, gossips and foes, it is likely that they will continue spies, gossips and foes to the end of the chapter; more than we fancy, we are able to create that in which we be- lieve. True, believing a servant honest does not always make them so, and very trustful employers have often been egregiously deceived; but we never yet made any one better by believing them to be bad, and good treatment, good example, and good instruction, will go far toward creating for us good servants, even out of originally poor materials." I have always considered Cousin Ann a model in her manage- ment of her servants. I tell her this sometimes, but she s;vys it i.i much easier to have good servants in the country than in the city. There is less temptation there for them to hurry their work, so that they may run off They have less intercourse with companions who may be idle and injurious. Wlun their v/ork is done, their time is occupied in reasonable occupations, as reading, and n/aking and mending their clothes; and this A//Sr/f£SS AND MAID IN THE HOME. 441 o not expect - faults rather jnfidence and hing that ha< ess act — may ) be regarded ousehold. ey come into It, by all the le trusted ; it ; see what we possessions; ite out of the lality in them othing which list in rcgard- :cly that they the chapter; .vhich we be- always make n egregiously ■ by believing tie, and good ood servants, her managc- ut she says it y tlian in the 3 hurry their s intercourse When their occupations, les; and this gives thoughtfulness and stability to their character, and puts them on the road to thrift and thoroughness. This is doubtless all true. But I have seen excellent servants in the city, and very poor ones in the country, and I believe in the old adage, "A good mistress makes a good maid." I have, when visiting Cousin Ann, and especially when I passed a winter with her, carefully observed her ways with her servants, and I have arrived at certain rules by which she guides her sway. First. She intends to respect her servants in their places, and so she clearly gives them to understand that they must be respectable. Lying, rudeness, uncleanliness, vulgarity in word or act, are not respectable, and, therefore, the servant must eschew all these. Second. Cousin Ann sets herself the example of what she would have her servant be. She never deceives nor equiv- ocates. She is never rude nor ungracious in her order or her reproofs. She is exquisitely tidy and orderly. While respecting others, she means herself to be respected. She has a quiet dignity, removed alike from familiarity and from haughtiness. Ghe is calm and kindly. Third. She makes obedience to her wishes possible. She does not hurry the servant, so that she cannot get tidily through with her work. She does not bid her be cleanly, and so crowd her with labor that there is no time for her to bathe, comb her hair, dress neatly, make, wash and mend her clothes, and set in 9rdcr her room. Fourth. She makes her servants fee! how important to the well-being of the whole house their good conduct and good work may be. She docs not hector them with trivial directions, but she teaches thoroughly and once for all what she wishes d«ne, and she gives them fundamental rules. Fifth. She remembers that, like other people, her sen'ants are ^■ (, *, Ifl 442 THE COMPLETE HOME. imperfect, that human bodies, and minds, and hearts may get out of order. When they are ill, or even a little ailing, she bestows rest, freedom from work, nursing and doctoring, as she would to any other member of the family in proportion to the needs of the case. She does not ask needless questions. She awaits confidence rather than demands it, respecting individual secrets and sorrows. She yields ready sympathy v/ith their troubles, is not easily offended by accidents or by little nervous- ness; and when the usually kind-tempered, willing servant appears in a new character, as flustered, cross, hasty of speech, she quietly arranges a change of work, a holiday, a little treat of some kind, to relieve the unknown pain lying at the root of this exhibition. I remember once when I was there. Cousin Ann's servant seemed pettish and careless for several days, and finally spoke very impertinently to her mistress. Some ladies would have reproached her, told her that she had been put up with for days, and have then discharged her. Cousin Ann, on the contrary, said, calmly: " Harriet, you are quite forgetting yourself You have seemed to feel worried at something for several days. You do not usually act in this manner. Possibly, if you told me what the matter was, I could help you. I should be glad to do .so. It is much better to be helped to do right, ^'^an to allow our- selves to do wrong." Harriet sat down and burst into a flood of tears. Having cried for a while she became quieter, and Cousin Ann said, kindly: « " Well, Harriet, what is it ? " Then out came the trouble. Harriet had a lover. SIk had supposed him to be a decent young man. She had fouml out that he drank and had been off on a wild s'^rec He wanted to be taken into favor. " Tf I give him the cold shoulder," .sobbed Harriet, " he'll go off and marry Mary McMannus. And I do MISTKES^ uVD iMAID IN THE HOME. 443 care for him, but I'm afraid of drunkards! Didn't my own father drink, and break my mother's heart, and chase me out in the snow, until it was well for us that he died? But, oh, what will I do, disappointed as I am?" Only a servant girl's little love-story and bitter disappoint- ment ; possibly some would have passed it by carelessly. Cousin Ann sat down by her maid and said, in true sym- pathy : " Harriet, I am voy sorry for you, and I will advise you as I would my daughter. Don't marry a man who drinks. If he does not love you well cnougli to reform for the sake of securing you, he will not love > ou well enough to be kind, nor to provide for you, nor for your children. It is hard to be disappointed in a lover, but much harder to be disappointed in a husband. How would you repent marrying a drunkard, il you found yourself a beggar, perhaps maimed by him in some drunken row, or saw little children starved, beaten or driven out into the cold night! Be brave, Harriet, to do what is riglu! Now you can be self-supporting, safe and respectable. If you married a drunkard, nothing would be left you but misery and regret. Now, Harriet, you are tired and excited with your trouble and crying: suppose you go to your room and lie down a while. And on the table in my room there is a little red book which I will give you, and I wish you wouUl get it as you go by, and read it through before you make up your mind on this matter." This little book, as I learned, was a storj' of a girl who married a drunkard. Cousin Ann's womanly kindness not only saved her a good .servant, for Harriet lived with her for four years after this, but it saved Harriet to herself Her lover did not reform. She discarded him. A miserable sot, he is now in jail for arson; while Harriet has married a very good man who works for Reed, and has as nice a home anH t - as pretty children as are to be seen anywhere. i I %\ |H. ■J 5 , !1 1, if 444 77/^ COMPLETE HOME. A sixth rule with Cousin Ann is to n quire obedience to hef orders, and an adherence to her plans and wishes in her house. She holds the reins and guides her household, and allows no contravening of her plans. She does not permit negligence to pass unrebuked, or, finding a thing ill done, do it herself, and so confirm in her maid the careless habit. When a fault is com- mitted, she is prompt on the spot to set it right. She does not wait a week and then cast it up. These rules of Cousin Ann's I have tried to impress upon my young friends for their guidance in managing their servants. I remember, when Miriam first hired a grown servant, she came to me in a great deal of perplexity. For two years Miriam did her own work ; then she took little Ann from me, Martha's niece, w) c bad become a very useful maid, and a year and a half la-t : he hired a grown girl. She came to consult me, saying ; "Aunt, I don't want to have trouble with my servants, and this perpetual changing. How shall I manage them ? Mrs. Black has just been warning me that I must not allow any visitors." " What are you going to hire," I asked — " a machine or a human being?" " Why, a very respectable young woman," said Miriam. "And where is the respectable young woman," I said, "who was made without a heart or capacity for friendship ? If she is a good young woman, she will have friends of some kind to love ; ■ because people are servants they are not made without parents, sisters, aunts, or other relatives to care for. They have their little interests : they want to know how the neighbor's sick baby is, and what new dresses the cousin, who is to be married, is making, and if the little nephew looks well in his first trowsers, and whether the grandmother's rheumatism is better. It is barbarity to take a young woman into your house to woik, yourself meanwhile not expecting to be her companion, and MISTHESS AND MAID IN HIE HOME. 445 then saying to her : ' I do not approve of servants having friends." " "What shall I do? That does seem cruel, but Mrs. Rlack says if I am not careful that iny kitchen will be full of visitors, that the work will be neglected for gossip, that there will be diseases brought to the .children, that ' isitors will be constantly taking meals and carrying off gs. You know^, aunt, I do not want to be stingy, but I must economize, .nd I cannot allow wasi j." " That is all true, my dear, but there is a happy mean in all things. You expect to give your servant a part of Sunday, and a part of Thursday afternoon, unless something unforeseen interferes now and then with this liberty. Thus she will have twice a week to see her friends. She will have occasional evenings out. When you engage the girl, tell her strictly and clearly at what hour you wish her to return on these occasions, and tell her this hour, must not be overstepped. Tell her that you do not like much company, nor company during working hours ; but that she is welcome to see her relatives and nice quiet friends at proper times, if they leave at the hour which you set for closing your house, and there are not too many at once, or those who are noisy. Tell her, also, that you will rely on her to see only those friends of whom her near relatives and her conscience will approve. You can then kindly notice how matters go, and see that your rules are obeyed. Don't establish unnatural conditions and needless restrictions : they force people toward deceit and disobedience." "That calls up another question. Mrs. Smalley visited me yesterday, and she warned me solemnly not to allow any 'follmvers:' she said itwdiS positively rtiinotts." " What is a follower ? Pray tell me." " Why, she meant a lover, a young man paying attention to her, I suppose," said Miriam, laughing. '% If \ \ 4' ^> #. w '^^ ^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // fj // ^ >^^. &' ^i? 1.0 I.I U! lAO 11.25 II 1.4 I— 1.6 M-'. . Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WIST MAIN STRUT WEBSTKN.Y 14S80 (716) 873-4503 c^^^ \ \ 4^ 4^~ ^' i i ) & Trf2 ill. li: 44C r//£ COMPLETE HOME. " Mrs. Smalley allowed her own daughter a follower* is ihe servant-maid above or beneath such an adherent ? The servant girls marry, Miriam, just as frequently as their young mistresses. Indeed, I think there are fewer unmarried women among the working classes than among those a little better off. The maid has a heai t, the natural affections of a young woman ; she likes to be admired, to think that there is some one who esteems her above all the world. For fear of losing her place and her means of livelihood, she may agree to have no ' follower,' but she will have one none the less. Prohibited receiving him in her neat, warm, well-lighted kitchen, in the protection and respectability of the household, she will hang over the back-gate, hide in an area, make an appointment at a street-corner, or at some not first-class eating-house. A yot/ng- lady who did this would be condemned at once and lose her credit; is it any less dangerous for the servant-woman to put herself in such a position? Mistresses who claim to be very particular, perhaps even by thus being unjustly particular, arc often responsible for the ruined life and character of some servant, whom their womanly sympathy and guardianship might have saved to be a happy wife and a good mother. The compliments which your servant appreciates, the little gifts which she accepts, the amusements to which she is escorted, arc not those which would suit your taste; but so long as they arc decent and honest, we have, underlying all, the common womanhood, the common sentiments and instincts God imiilantcd, and those wc should recognize and respect in ((ur treatment of her." " Then I liad better allow a follower? " laughed Miriam. " You can tell your new maid frankly, that you do not think it suitable for any young woman to have the calls of a promis- cuous troop of young men; you should not allov your own daughter, if she were grown, liberty for anything of this kind; neither do you approve of a young man coming every evening. bllower* is the ? The servant lung mistresses, len among the off. The maid man ; she likes ho esteems her and her means 2r,' but she will m in her neat, J respectability ate, hide in an r at some not this would be less dangerous :h a position? is even by thus ■ the ruined life anly sympathy ppy wife and a int appreciates, 5 to which she ■ taste ; but so crlying all, the 1 instincts God respect in our 1 Miriam, u do not think Is of a promi.s- lov your own of this kind; every evening. MISTRESS AND MAID IN THE HOME. 44" er staying late; if she has any particular friend, approvea by her relatives, and of such character as could frankly come to a gentleman's house, then she can receive him, and you will trust her to treat you openly and honorably in regard to him. It will not be hard for Mark to find out something of the real character of this friend ; if it is vicious, you cannot allow him to come tc your house; you owe it to yourself and to your maid to forbid him the premises, and to warn her of her danger in the acquaint- ance. You are the girl's God-ordained guardian while she is with you. If her friend is of the right sort, try, by the advice which you occasionally drop, and by the reading which you put in her way, to give her a sense of her duty: of the need of thrift and careful preparation for married life." "Why," said Miriam, looking very grave, "this hiring a maid means then a good deal more than simply to get some one to wash dishes, bake, iron, sweep and dust." "Indeed it does," I rejoined; "it is taking into your family band another pilgrim bound for eternity; here is another human soul come into your keeping; not white and unwritten like the soul of the little child, all open to your inscribing, but much of false teaching and evil habits, of preconceived notions, of fixed opinions, may be there to combat your efforts to lead them in the right way." " Wiiat a responsibility!" cried Miriam; " b-it give me one or two plain and simple rul .-s, so that I may feel, resting on them, that I have some solid g.ouml beneath my feet. I want some starting-point for my new work." " I give you the same which possibly I have given you in regard to children— for in many respects our servants come to us on the plane of children. Have laws like those of the Medes and Persians— unalterable laws, so that they shall know what to depend upon ; and have privileges like an Englishman's housa Which is liis inviolate castle. Don't let servants think that you I '! ^Wi' ihf \ -f "i V ls!;,.f \ . -jI I ! m: « 'I 448 7iV£ COMPLETE HOME. do not mean the thing which you say, either in your own be- half or in theirs. When you promise them a favor, keep your promise; respect their privileges; be cordial in giving them their holiday afternoons; all work, unrelieved by amusement, makes any one dull and listless ; it is bad fbx morals, health, and for brains; uninterrupted work is intolerable: it comes at last to tor- ture us, like that famous dropping of water. I have known a maid so heartless, that after two years of service, where she was kindly treated, she coolly walked off to take her Thursday half- holiday, asking no questions, making no apologic3, and leaving her mistress bending over the bed of a dying child. That was one instance of brutality. I have known many instances where the servant voluntarily and cheerfully changed her afternoon out, or gave it up entirely because of guests, or sickness, or be- cause of some work which she saw it would be a pleasure to her mistress to have out of the way. Where there is kind con- sideration shown on the one hand, it is usually reciprocated on the other, and in virtue of her position the mistress must take the initiative in this interchange of good ■^'llices." It is a cardinal point in the creed of ■=> persons that servants are a trial and a nuisance, and that it is a great cross to be obliged to keep them. This is a false idea. To take service is, and always must be, one of the ways in which a large number of human beings get their living; other human beings who have house-room, money, and work, must then take these people in ; this is one of their duties to the world at large, and one of the things which the Lord set for them to do, in the way of provid- ing for their fellows, as he provides for them. I think the next person with whom I conversed on this sub» ject was Mary Watkins. She came to me one day saying that she had made arrangements *o take a girl of fifteen from a city institution, and keep her until she was twenty-one. Said Mary : " I hope she will be a good girl to me, and I want '■our own be* )r, keep your tig them their ;ment, makes :alth, and for at last to tor- ave known a 'here she was hursday Iialf- , and leaving d. That was itances where ler afternoon kness, or be- i pleasure to : is kind con- :iprocated on 33 must take that servants cross to be ke service is, arge number igs who have se people in ; d one of the ly of provid- on this sub. r saying that n from a city e,and I want MISTRESS AND MAW IN THE HOME. 449 to be a good mistress to her. I should be sorry if she finished her stay with me without being in every way better for it; what main methods shall I take loi her improvement? You know I have very little experience with servants, for hitherto I have had none but a little ten-year-old from the village, and my mother did not keep help after I was twelve years old." "The foundation, Mary," I replied, "of good character and efficiency in service lies in sound religious principle; this stim- ulates zeal, unselfishness, honesty that is above eye-service ; :/ furnishes something in the servant to be relied upon. We should give our servants all the religious help possible. A Bible should always be furnished for the servant's room; the work should be managed so that she can go to church at least once weekly; she should always be at fomily prayers. If you see hej indulging in unchristian conduct, give a Christian admonition; endeavor to furnish good reading'for her leisure hours on Sab- bath; do not cyoect the maid to enjoy a volume of sermons, noi Baxter's 'Saints' Rest;' the young, robust, and partially cdu cated, do not take to writing of this kind, but they will enjojr ' Pilgrims' Progress,' a religious magazine, a church paper, the 'Tales of the Covenanters' or of the Waldcnsiaas. Show your friendly interest in your maid by giving her a decent room. Don't give a mass of ragged bed-clothes, a poor tick and pillow, and begrudge a clean sheet and pillow-case each week. Don't ask her to be neat, and then give her no appliances for het toilette, so that she must wash and comb in the kitchen. Put a bowl, pitcher and comb-case in her room; a chair; a stand for her light and books; a pincushion; at least one strip of carpel by the bed; put up hooks for her clothes, and do not deny her the decency of a curtain to the window; if you can spare her a little bureau, or a chest of drawers, so much the better, and a shoe-box. Her room thus tidy and well equipped when sh, goes into it, you can impress upon her the need of keeping it ju ''im \\ m 11 p i ffli mi 'Si' ■. il 450 7 ■///■: COjr/^£T£ HOME. nice as any part of the house ; and where there is atiy neglect, remark upon it immediately. "Girls who have a comfortable room furnished them generally appreciate it. I remember a girl coming to Mrs. Burr and being sent up to her tidy room, where there was, among other things, an illuminated text on the wall, and a pot of flowers in the window. She came straight down before laying off her bonnet, and said, with tears in her eyes, ' I came to thank you for such a nice room. It looks just as if you wanted to make me comfortable and self-respecting, and I shall try to do my very best for you.' " Be careful, also, and treat your servant kindly, while you do not forget or fail in your own position. Don't think because you have a right to command that it is best to be forever issuing orders ; there is no law against your uttering requests. Another important point is — not only for the good of the ser- vants, but of your children — see to it that the children treat your hired help with courtesy. Teach them to say ' please ' and 'thank you.' See to it that they do not wantonly make work, and that they heed requests and remonstrances, and do not allow them to hinder the girl when she is busy. I have seen children so shamefully ill-bred, that they would come in when a girl had just finished a weary scrubbing of a floor, and tramp about on the wet wood with dirty feet, just for the sake of soiling it, or throw mud on a nc;wly cleaned window, or slop water over a stove or table, merely to vex the doer of this hard cleaning work. Do what you car. to lighten work : not in the way of allowing neglect, for that never really makes anything easier, but by furnishing any possible appliances to make the work easier. If you can afford a clothes-wringer, and a box- line protector for the clothes-line, and a drain for suds opening near the washtubs, have tbcic thinn"s to lifditen toil. Have posts set firmly for your clothes-lines, with bars or hooks for M/Sr/l£SS AND MAID IN THE HOME. 451 festcnins the line; for what is more vexing or exhausting than to spend a long time in sun, frost or wind trying to tie up a hne for which no proper provision has been made, or, after all one's tedious efforts, to have the clothes turiible down in the ilirt, and all needing to be rinsed over again ? " Try to set your maid a good example, and give her good advice in matters personal to herself Teach her how to make, mend and cut out clothes: what a blessing and saving this' knowledge will be in her future home ! Do not set her an example of untidiness by sending ragged clothes into the wash, and letting her see you using things that need mending. Let her realize that you think it a positive duty to darn your stockings, mend all your clothes neatly, and turn all that you have to the best use. " I commended a poor woman once for being a nice house- keeper, and said: ' You seem to have some witchcraft in making things last long." • " She answered: ' It is all owing to a good example that I had when living out. My mistress never let anything go to waste. When the sheets began to wear, they were turned ; as needed, they were darned and patched ; and when large sheets gave' out, they were made over into narrow ones for single beds. Table-cloths were darned in every little break, and when too much worn for the table, they were cut into towels and fringed or hemmed for use over bread, pies, cake and so on, in pantry and cellar. The pillow-cases were darned neatly where they cracked ; so were towels ; and old towels were doubled and sewed into neat wash-cloths. An old crumb-cloth, long darned and mended, when finally worn out, made us first-rate kitchen- towels. Nothing was wasted or neglected. As with the house- linen, so with tlie family clothes. You should have seen the neat mending; the fine darns in stockings .qnd handkerchief?; the rough edges of petticoats turned in and oversewn; the 11 I ' llr'f Si 1 ' * l> '■ i M »L.Zi»*-^ 452 7 //A' COMPLETE HOME. worn edges of collars and cuffs trimmed with a ruffle of lace. 1 learned there that things take a long while to wear out : they go from use to use for years.' " Now this woman on very narrow means was rearing a family of children in decency, and making her little girls as wise and thrifty as herself. How far had the example of that faithful housekeeper extended for good ! And, finally, for I am talking altogether too long, and felling you more than you are likely to remember, govern your own conduct to your servants by principle, and they will be influenced by your example to be well principled in their conduct to you. Nothing is so potent as good example in securing respect and imitation. Don't lose your temper ; reprove with firmness, calmness and moderation.'* When Sara set up housekeeping, her mother-in-law, Mrs. Winton, gave her some good counsel about her maids. She said : - " Let them look for your coming where they work as an encouragement, because you will help them to see their work more clearly, and you will be able to suggest good methods for doing it well and quickly. Let them expect your presence as an incentive, because you will kindly commend what is good. The kitchen-maid has been scrubbing, polishing, window- washing, until she is really tired and uncomfortable. You come in and remark: 'Ah, it is a pleasure to come into such a neat kitchen as this.' You happen to go to the tin-closet, orderly and shining ; you remark : ' This closet is a treat to look at : it does you great credit.' The girl is saving. She tries out, clarifies and strains drippings ; saves bread-crumbs for dressing cutlets or fish ; makes a nice white bone-soup ; takes pains with your property as if she had herself paid for it; and you say: • I am pleased that you are so thrifty : it is useful to me, and will be ver}' useful to you. The young sr.an who secures such a wife will be fgrtunatc.' Now these commendations go a great MISTRESS AND MAID }J\I THE HOME. 453 uffle of lace. 1 :ar out : they ga rearing a family iris as wise and of that faithful for I am talking you are likely )ur servants by example to be ing is so potent on. Don't lose nd moderation.' ler-in-law, Mrs. ler maids. She ley work as an see their work 3od methods for our presence as \ what is good, shing, windo^v- nfortablc. You ime into such a » the tin-closet, s a treat to look She tries out, lbs for dressing takes pains with ; and you say: [ to me, and will secures such a tions go a great Ways: they pay for over-weariness. The maid feels rested and refreshed by a good word, and is stirred to go on to better and better things. Again, the servant should look for your pres- ence as a warning against carelessness. Don't go into a kit- chen, find things going wrong, and, sighing hopelessly, retread discouraged. You go into the kitchen and see that after break- fast the dish-towels were not washed ; the sink has been wiped out, but is not really clean; there is dust left in the corners; the hearth is untidy ; the broom stands on the brush and not on the handle. Speak promptly to the point. " ' Catherine ! see how you have left your broom ; hang it up when you are done with it ; but now, before hanging it up, take it and sweep your kitchen nicely — see the dust left in these corners. I see you have forgotten my rule about washing these towels ; now I shall put them into this pan, and put hot water and soft soap on them ; as soon as the kitchen is swept, wash these towels well and hang them up ; then add some sal-soda to the suds left and scrub out this sink carefully ; if you rub your finger on the inside you will see that it is greasy. Never think, C'atherine, that time or strength are saved by carelessness. I hope I shall not see this neglect again.' Let ♦ ; servants feel that your quick eye will note every omission, and that you will not fear to correct it." One day, when we were visiting Hester, she said to Mrs, Winton : " Why are servants so poor and so much complained of now-a-days ? The race of reliable maids seems dying out, I have excellent servants, but most people complain." "The reason is," replied Mrs. Winton, "First, that of late young women have grown up in ignorance of housekeeping, and do not understand how to manage either house or maid : poor mistresses make poor maids. "Second. It has become the fashion to compialn of the liircd help; mistresses have fallen into a habit of exaggerating faults li im Mi 454 Tim COMPLETE HOME, and making themselves out to be martyrs : little comes whence little is expected. " Third. We have fallen into an emulous habit of keeping too many servants; several maids, none of wliom have full occu- pation, quarrel, neglect their work, assigning it to others, and realize the proverb that Satan finds mischief for idle hands. Better to have too few servants than too many ; don't call in extra help because the neighbors have more maids than you, but because you absolutely need more help. A friend of mine with q large family, finding that with four servants her work was nevei done, and could not get done, instead of hiring a fifth, discharged one of those which she had, and remarked that then if the work were not properly done she would try keeping but two servants; there was no more trouble, the work was done on time, well done, and no one was overtaxed. "The fourth reason for our poor servants is, that they are discharged on small pretexts; one does not try to mend matters by keeping and teaching them, but by dismissing them. They half learn the ways of a dozen or a score of families, but never wholly master those of one. Families go into the country or to the coast for six months, or four months, and turn off the help, or some of them, and expect the next fall and winter to hire others who will look to a similarly short term of service. Who can expect good help in such circumstances ? " Fifth. We have poor servants because we hire them too hastily ; we do not scrutinize their antecedents and characters, and we are not particular enough to tell thcni exactly our rules. " Sixth. We are often too indolent to have household laws, oi if we have them to execute them. Our domestic judiciary and executive are both weak and insufficient. If we would only say what we mean, and mean what we say, our servants would obcj better. ;omcs whence f keepinjj too .ve full occu- D others, and r idle hands, t call in extra han you, but )f mine with q Drk was nevci th, discharged :n if the work two servants; on time, well that they are try to mend Tiissing them, f families, but the country d turn off the and winter to •m of service. ? lire them too nd characters, 1 exactly our chold laws, oi judiciary and ould only say ts would obcj MISTHESS AA'D MAID IN THE HOME. •log "The seventh reason for our having poor servants is, that we do not realize the blessing and comfort there is in good ones; we say we like a good cook, a nurse who keeps the children clean and quiet, a housemaid who dusts thoroughly, soaks her brooms once a month in boiling suds, hangs them up when she has finished using them, and sweeps with a long, even stroke, keeping her broom to the floor, and not flinging the dust into the air; but we mention our liking these good qualities much as we say we like a horse that docs not shy, a cow that does not kick, a chicken which is fat and tender. We do not comprehend that this sei-vant may be in sorrow a self- forgetting sympathizer; in sickness a devoted nurse; in losses a staunch adherent ; that her devotion being deserved may become as intense as that of our nearest relations, that she may serve our children with almost maternal self-abnegation." If there is any one who can appreciate these remarks about a faithful domestic, I think I should be able to. Martha has for years been with me, devoted to my interests, regarding all my joys and sorrows as her own. She takes the greatest pride in my nieces' children, and is constantly thinking of some way in which she can benefit them or their mothers. When Miriam has had sickness in her family, or her servant has been obliged to be ; ^nt for a day, Martha has risen early and retired late, thai she might not only do my work, but bake, or iron, or cook for Miriam. All that Hannah has of efficiency as a servant she owes to Martha, who took her in hand, taught her, instructed her to consider Helen's interests as her own, helped her, persuaded her lo remain in her place and not run from family to family ; and really Hannah is now a very good maid, and a great blessing to Helen, who could hardly get on without her. Martha, besides having good habits, a good heart, an honest conscience and a readiness to learn, has also good brains, and she invents things for herself; meanw'.iile, she reads and remem- \ ■( '4 '1! 1, ;■( • t. Ui 456 T//£ COMPLETE HOME. bers. She has culled recipes and hints about housekeeping from numerous papers and books, and has pasted them in several scrap-books, which she kept in the kitchen on* the shelf v'ith her Bible, her hymn-book, and perhaps some other book which she was reading. Seeing her interest in these things, and anxious to gratify her, I went to Mr. Smalley, and had him make me four little book-shelves, swung on a stout cord : they were made of white wood, and stained dark. These I hung up in the kitchen between the windows, and then I carried in and placed on them various books which I have on house-work, cooking and the like — " Mrs. Glasse's Cookery," good if old, " The British Housewife," " Blot's Lectures," and a number of others. Martha was highly gratified by this attention, and I often find her, when her work "S done, poring over these vol- umes. I have frequently given Martha books — religious books — a story or two, and once I took a magazine for her for a year or two. It was not exactly such a magazine as I would have preferred for myself, but it was simple and varied in contents, and suited Martha so well that she had the numbers bound. I have found the good of Martha's brains in various little con- trivances. One year I thought our well-water was not very good, and I meant to have a new well dug. I said I must get meanwhile a filter ; there was none in the village, and before I could send to town, Martha made a filter. She bought a very large common red earthen flower-pot, with a hole in the bottom. She set this in the top of the water-cooler, where it just fitted when the lid was taken off; she put in the flower-pot, first, a layer of nice brook-pebbles, then a layer of sand from the brook, then one of charcoal, broken pretty small : she repeated these layers until they filled the pot. Then on the pot she set a water-bucket, with a small augur hole bored in the bottom ; in the pail she poured the water for filtering: it jx-rcolated the various layers in the flower-pot, entering the cooler pure, as if MISTRESS AND MAW IN THE HOME. 467 housekeeping sted them in 1 on the shelf »e other book se things, and and had him lit cord : they ese I hung up :arried in and 1 house-work, good if old, a number of ention, and I .'er these vol< ligious books licr for a year [ would have 1 in contents, rs bound, ous little con- was not very bdid I must je, and before Jought a very n the bottom. it just fitted er-pot, first, a )m the brook, ^peated these lot she set a le bottom ; in ercolatcd tlic ler pure, as if it had passed through the best patent filter. Mary Watkins was much pleased with this piece of ingenuity. She said : " If I only had a cooler, I would arrange a filter in that way, for our well-water is poor." Martha's ingenuity extended over Mary's case. She said: " Except for a little trouble in lifting when you want a pitcher of water, Mrs. Watkins, you can do just as well, if you set the flower-pot in the neck of a four or six gallon stone-jar ; and if you pin around that a piece of an old blanket, or several thick- nesses of crash towel, and keep that wet, the water will be nearly as cool as ice-water." Another time I went into the kitchen, p.nd found Martha sur- veying, with much pleasure, several rhubarb pies and a dish of green currant sauce. She said, with an air of triumph: "Ah! I've got the better of the sour things this time!" "How is that, Martha?" I asked; "did you put in extra sugar?" "No, indeed, ma'am; they've always used too much sugar for my fancy. No; I'll tell you what I did : I put the fruit to stew, and when, it was half done I put in each pot a small, even tea- spoon of carbonate of soda (baking soda), and that, ma'am, somehow ate up the sourness of the fruit, so it wasn't much more sour than dried peaches, or black cherries, or blackberries, and I've saved about half the usual sugar, and I've got a pie that tastes fairly elegant — indeed it do." "Why, Martha," I said, "you are quite a chemist." "La, ma'am, I saw how to do it in a book, and 3o I tried, and it's turned out quite beyond my expectations." "As you have been so saving, you had better carry one of those pies to your sister-in-law for her Sunday dinner, and tell her of your new way of sparing sugar, and it may help her in her housekeeping; we should teach all the economy we learn." ¥\ 1, i ? ■ ^1 'f ^lli.iii^ii^ iiS" I?' I 458 THE COMPLETE HOME. A servant so faithful and thor^htful, one would say, deserves all the little aids and conveniences that can be given her ; I havtf been careful, since Martha, like myself, is growing elderly, to have a comfortable rocking-chair in the kitchen for her to rest in; and I have placed her in a room over the kitchen where there is a drum from the kitchen stove, so that in cold woathci she will be comfortable. Much cf Martha's faithful thought- fulness, however, comes from the instruction and good treat- ment which she has always received from me ; she would say so hersflf. As an illustration of the good which one can do to the public at large by faithfully training their servants, I will mention the case of three maiden ladies whom I know in my youth. In those days we received many Irish emigrants, young girls come over to seek service— "raw Irish" they were called, and indeed they were very raw. Wages were then very low; a dollar or a dollar an:' a quarter a week was a large price in the towns, and in the ci(y a dollar fifty and a dollar seventy-five was handsome, while two dollars was enormous pay.' In the small towns wages sank below a dollar to seventy-five, fifty, forty, even twenty- five cents for " the raw Irish." In those days dry-goods were low, and eight yards of calico made a maid a decent frock! These ladies of whom I speak were admirable housekeepers ; being in narrow circumstances, they could not afford to give the wages of a skilled servant, besides they felt that they had a duty to the strangers on our shores, and that one of their modest ways of doing good might be to take some of these emigrants and make them useful women. Accordingly, they always took a new Irish girl ; she could not be so ignorant as to dan'ip theif zeal. They taught her personal neatness; .saw to it that she bathed, combed her hair, and cleaned her teeth ; they taught hcf to mend her clothes, put in order all that she brought with her, which was little; and though they gave but thirty-seven cenU MISTRESS AND MAID IN THE HOME. 459 m wages, they were able, among the three, to provide her many good garments by teaching her to make over their own laid-by clothes ; they taught her to fit and make her dresses ; to make a neat bonnet ; on Christmas she got a good new shawl or coat/ she was taught to read, and, if she had any aptitude, to write; she was also taught plain cooking, bread-making, house vvork, laundry vvork — all of the best variety. No girl left service with them without knowing how to read, sew, and do general house- work ; then when a year and a half or two years had put her in possession of these s, the good ladies sought among their friends, who always were eager to get a girl of their training, and found her a place, where she got a dollar or a dollar and a quarter a week, while they took another case of raw help to develop into industrious, capable womanhood. Doubtless they had a score of these girls, some staying less time than the others, all leaving them well equipped for life; and these .se ^'ants, in- stead of being shiftless, vicious, dirty pauper-makers, finally jettlcd into decent and thrifty homes of their own. Who can estimate the value of these good ladies to the town in which theV lived, to the state, to humanity at large? f I (^ 4'Si4lV' I CHAPTER XIX. HOW TO MAKE HOME HAPPY. AUNT SOPHRONIA TELLS HOW TO DO IT. [AMES FREDERICK BLACK is by no means the least promising of our young men. He has been very inti- mate with the Winton boys; our minister thinks a great deal of him ; he is fond of asking deep and far- reaching questions, and he tries to improve ; so, in spite of various disadvantages in Home-training, I think James Fred- erick will turn out veiy well. I hope so, I'm sure, not only for his own sake, but he is paying attention to Cousin Ann's younger daughter, and I think a great deal of her. Speaking of the questions which James Frederick likes to ask reminds me of one that he put to me recently. Mrs. Burr had a very '•irgc gathering at her house celebrating her silver-wedding. She usually invites a number of friends on each of her wedding anniversaries, but on this especial occasion almost every one in our village and in the neighboring country was asked. Of course there was a good deal of talk about family life, home duties and so forth. By-and-by James Frederick and one of the Wintons came to me, and said : 'Aunt Sophronia, y^u are to tell Uh how to make Home happy, and give the means of doing so in one word." I thought for a minute or two what phrase would cover the most ground, and said : " Good management." They went off to a group of young people, apparently to report my answer, and James Frederick returned, saying, (400) cans the least leen very inti- ster thinks a deep and far- I, in spite of James Fred- :, not only for Cousin Ann's ;r. Speaking ask reminds rr had a very ;Ivcr-wedding. ' her wedding every one in s asked. Of ily life, home ,nd one of the make Home 1." uld cover the apparently to saying, „a"S'm •ni ' ill '.'.''Jf'tl '} f «. ' ^ i.iE.X„.. j ' ll' 'if ! i 1 ^ 1 1 ■ )•■ 1 ; If 1 ' 1 ' 1 ,i 1 k ' '4 ^^ # r-5lfw VMES BHIDRUICK BI..A( Ji nrotrus aw. u vtffti \V inf. HlUi r( various Vounrrr iM ,ins the kaat ■ -.-ciy inli- Ihi ilk.-, a i'jcp aad fiir- pitc of tfilCS Frcd- er. a -..» :.f t' ,.!v."at deal of her. Speakincj FTd'rrick U",.cs to ask rrmrnds .r (UK )Un" n.i idin; A'cdcltnil. jiiini .a) J I ''Ul!> til is cspccia <■! Iicr u'ctlding tist every one in diborii '>/ i.i ill, .itHJUt iav.niy iac, iiou^. nn"r i"V(?dcridc and nnc of the U' ion )<• ito or Iw'i) ',v i.iL j']ir:'s<- woidd'cov.. Tuo'it ground, ar I'h -ounj; ', •lu am A ^yng. ( nsk remmd.-. . ' .1 very :!.!:nir. :■ uvudiil^ ■ry one in . .ked. Of Kfc, houn.' ui I lUK' of the Hcni* Hild' cover ih: ikying, # JS M is ^^^E!'.* ^n^^ [I'i-,;., w .^H ijlpi 1 r HOW rO MAKE HOME HAPPY. 4G1 "That word would include a great deal, would it not?" "Certainly," I replied; "the good management must extend to health, finances, order, the training of children, our social duties, the making the best of our possessions, so that we shall secure from them the largest amount of comfo. \ You may have in your pantry, or on a table, all the component parts of a pound-cake, but unless they are judiciously put together you will have no cake. So you may have this, that and the other element of happy home making, but unless they are wisely brought together and blended you will not have a happy home." " Homes where all these elements are so nicely blended," said James Frederick, " are so few, that I fear some great, exceptional, overpowering genius, some Michael Angelo of the Home, is needed for the infinitely varied task." " No, James Frederick ; it is merely conscientious persever> ance in little things which is demanded. It has been well said that 'To do common things perfectly is far better worth our endeavor than to do uncommon things respectably.' " About a week after this Martha suggested that Miriam had desired me to spend the afternoon with her. She artfully con- trived that I should wear my best gown and head-gear. About half-past six Martha came after me, saying that a friend wanted me. I went home and found my house warmed and lighted from top to bottom, and I caught sight of the dining-table, drawn to its fullest length, with all my silver displayed, and a great pyramid of fancy cakes and macaroons, for which Martha is famous. The Blacks and Hester were in the parlor. I saw that Martha had joined a surprise-party conspiracy. Presently other guests came until there were about twenty-five young people, and James Frederick informed me that they had come expresslv to hear mc expound liovj to vto.kc UofHC h(if>f>V: No other conversation was to be allowed. The young ladies had ! ^'' i I k^ '■t .A. . i ,1 1-1 if; r ■ I 462 r//E COMPLETE HOME. brought baskets, of their best culinary samples, to prove that, as far as cooking went, they could make home very happy indeed. In an instant the chairs were drawn around me in a double circle. " Begin," cried Dick, autocratically. " Where shall I begin ? You have taken me so by surprise, that I begin to feel as if I never so much as heard of the insti- tution called Home, nor how it could be made happy." " Give us some hints about buying furniture and putting it in a house," said James Frederick, saucily, whipping out his note- book. " I'm going to buy some soon, and I want to know." Cousin Ann's daughter grew very rosy, and hid behind her sister, Sara Winton. " Well," I said, " if a heterogeneous mass of hints will be of any use to you, you arc welcome to thcrn. You give me no time for better presentation of the subject "First, as to providing furniture, be most liberal in providing conveniences for rooms which you will use most. Do not stint the kitchen to trick out the parlor : do not deprive yourself of proper pots and pans of a good, durable carpet for your bed- room, and a side-table for the dining-room, in order that your parlor may have a great looking-glass. A housewife spends much time in her kitchen : let it be neat, tastefully arranged, provided with conveniences which shall save disorder. Get solid, substantial furniture : don't be deceived by pretty sounding adjectives. It will be no advantage to your dining-table to be light and elegant : it might break down under your first big dinner. Neither should chairs be light and elegant: they might crush like an egg-shell under the first fat man. It is better to get less furntture, but of a good, firm quality, than a deal of flimsy stuff. Do not get showy carvings and colorings, ifnless expense is of small account to y^n, and ynu can change your furnishings frequently : black hair-cloth of good quality, .spite of JIOIV TO MAKE HOME llArPY. 463 all the revilings cast at it, is far butter than a clicap red or green reps which will soon fade or crack. If you do not cxi)cct to refurnish frequently, avoid getting furniture of odd forms; get plain shapes, not with dozens of curious curves: in a little while the eye wearies of these, the fashion changes, and they arc a source of disgust. Get carpets of solid quality, subdued tints, small patterns, that are like known things : only a Turkish carpet can venture to lead the mind intt) tlie weary mazes of a crazy man's dream of things unknown to creation. Remember and not crowd your house over-full at first: there is use and pleasure in buying things as a need for thcni develops: the eye is refreshed by a new picture on the wall, and a new rug, ottoman or stand, put just where a lack had seemed to be. For woods, in a parlor or handsomely furnished bed-room, you are always safe in getting a good oiled walnut ; for bed-rooms where you desire to avoid expense, cottage sets of painted bass wood arc neat, pretty and enduring ; for a dining-room, oak, and it pays to get oak chairs seated with maroon leather. Don't forget when you are buying a table that it is for use ; that a chair is to sit in, and so should be comfortable ; that a bureau is for use, and that its drawers should be strong, with good locks, opening and shutting easily, and deep. Let there be harmony in your furniture : don't get one fine and huge article which will stare all the rest of your simple surroundings out of countenance; a fine, carved, tall, marble-topped buffet would look ill-placed in a small dining-room, with an old-fashioned, leaved tabic, and thin- legged, cane-seat chairs. When you are furnishing, from the beginning, any room, consider harmony : get a carpet, a wall- paper, and furniture, which harmonize ; don't have a wall- paper in pink flowers, a bright red carpet, and a cottage suite in light blue. When you add furniture to rooms already partly fitted out, get what harmonizos with the rest, and .nupplics a felt need. When you put your furniture in your rooms, let the \\' •!' I 'I I. ii 464 7J//i COMrLETli HOME. rooms mean something ; don't let them have a dreary, soulless look, as if human emotions had nothing to do with producing them, and they had been set in shape by machineiy. Group your furniture comfortably ; put chairs, stands, books, pictures, where people would naturally use them. Study artistic effect : this study increases the beauty of present possessions, and trains the taste of the family. A gentleman paid his wife a grand compliment, when, looking into the pretentiously dreary quarters assigned him as a government officer, he remarked: 'Well, it docs look frightfully, but it wili be all right when my wife comes ; she could create beauty and a home, out of a fragment of the Sahara and a half-dozen newspapers." Finally, don't crowd your rooms: we all want breathing space," " Tell us, if you please," said Grace Winton, " some ways in which we can make articles of furniture for ourselves, if we have not much money to lay out in our houses ?" " I suppose you all know," I said, " how to make a chair of a barrel, sawn into shape, and covered with chintz, over stuffing. So also an hour-glass stand is an article often made of two round boirds, nailed at either end of a stick two and one-half feet high, and two and one-half inches in either diameter. Lot your board-top be as large as you wish your stand ; cover first with old muslin, and then with fancy chintz or muslin ; furnish the top with a central pin-cushion and a circle of pockets; and tie the draping muslin, at the centre of the support, into the form of an hour-glass. Foot-cushions aic pretty, and easily made of patch-work. You can have a lovely bracket by fasten- ing to the wall a board of the right size, and putting on it a cloth cover with a depending edge cut into leaf shapes or trian- |t1cs, and the whole embroidered with silk in Oriental applique : the skirts of a worn-out black or blue coat will furnish you this covering. A dry goods box, some colored cambric and white Swiss, with ribbon, will make a toilette table. A good lounge !ary, soulless h producing leiy. Group )ks, pictures, rtistic effect : ns, and trains wife a grand eary quarters :d: 'Well, it len my wife jf a fragment ="inally, don't ome ways in es, if we have 2 a chair of a over stuffing, made of two and one-half iameter. Let d ; cover first uslin ; furnish pockets ; and port, into the y, and easily ket by fasten- atting on it a lapes or trian- tital applique: -nish you this dHc and white . good lounge A i HOIV TO MAKE HOME //Am 465 can be made of a frame, a cushion, stuffed with hay or husks, evenly tacked, and the whole nicely covered with chintz, or indeed with calico. Chintz lambrequins are pretty and sinipK- for windows ; full curtains of buff, white, gray or pink lawn to suit the general tone of the room are pretty, but not especially cheap. You can make shades by stretching unbleached muslin on a frame, rubbing evenly into it melted beeswax and rosin, and when that is dry, putting on a coat of paint and one of var- nish However, the only curtain cheaper than bought shades — and a pretty curtain it is — is made of fine unbleached, with a binding of red or blue plain calico, and a bias of the same an inch wide, set one inch from the border ; these, frilled at top and bottom, are very tasteful, cheap and durable. A verj'^ good car- pet for a library or room not to be roughh' usjc! can be made in this way: paste over, the floor a thickness of heaviest coarse brown paper; when dr\', paste (not glue) another layer, and so on for throe, or even four. Cover with a coat of cheap gray or yellow paint. Then all around the edge, paint a heavy inch- wide line of deep reddish brown ; match that line fifteen inches farther in if the room is large, ten inches or a foot if of medium size. Between these lines paint in a solid color to suit yourself. and when dry lay on it, in some other color, arabesques or leaves. There is your border. Fill the centre in of a solid color, say deep blue or dark green : if you choose, you can paint a central medallion or some corner pieces. When well hardened, lay on a heavy coat of varnish. This carpet must not be swept or washed, but carefully wiped off with a woollen cloth, pinned over a broom. Lay mats where the heaviest wear comes ; and if varnished once a year, or repainted where dam- aged, it will last for years. Indeed, love and need united will teach u£ very many ways of furnishing comfortably our homes at small expense. Necessity in the Home, as elsewhere, is ths mother of invention." 30 \^ ' <"! iiii f ' 'i, ' UK 111 4G6 THE COMPLETE HOME. •\\\ ■f-r ?1 *l ' \ I: i if "And hovt hall we keep this cosy, tasteful home when we get it?" asked Miss Black. Hester, who sat by me, thinking ine a little tired, said: "Let me preface Aunt Sophronia's remarks, by giving you a quota- tion from a French author, Sauvestre : ' I hate an aspect of dis- order, because it indicates either a scorn of details or inaptitude for interior life. Arranging the objects in the midst of which, we live is establishing between us and them bonds of appropri- ateness or convenience: it is fi.\ing habits without which man tends toward the savage state. I should be suspicious of the good sense and morality of people, to whom disorder costs no vexation, or who could live at ease in Augean stables. Our surroundings reflect more or less our interior natures. If tastes did not betray character, they would be no longer tastes, but merely instincts."" " Hester," said I, " has struck the key-note of my answer to your last question. We shall preser\'e and enjoy this happy home by good order. We must take care of our properties : worn- out carpets, soiled and ragged table-covers, broken-springed and dented furniture, windows mended with paper and putty, marred walls, cracked dishes, give a forlornness to our homes. We must ourselves be methodical, orderly, careful in our use of things, and see to it that servants and children arc so also, "I have seen homes which chiK len were permitted to turn into kingdoms of misrule. I rememb-''- r.-,-; such, ' ..'t-j well furnished to begin with : the childrc:i p'..ycJ with everything in the house ; they played that the chairs were horses, cars, carts ; these conveyances, to increase the general joy, overturned occasionally ; as you may fancy, there was hardly a chair in the house uncracked and undented. They took the family umbrellas and spread them, for caves and dens of the earth, on the dining- rooi". .tioor, in their hilarity rolling over in them, and bending the wires and. ruining the handles. They took all the shawls in HOH'^ TO MAKE HO ML ITAPPY, 467 home when we tired, said : " Let ng you a quota- an aspect of dib- lils or inaptitude ; midst of which >nds of appropri- liout which man suspicious of the lisorder costs no n stables. Our iturcs. If tastes anger tastes, but of my answer to this happy home roperties : worn- cen-springed and nd putty, marred )ur homes. We 1 in our use of ire so also, crmitted to turn such, ' ^'"-j well ith everything in arses, cars, carts ; joy, overturned dly a chair in the family umbrellas h, on the dining- em, and bending all the shawls in I the house, pinning them together to drape the dining-room table for a wigwam. This topsy-turvy play left neither table, nor chair, nor rest for the sole of an adult foot. The tranquil mother never woke up to the need of stopping it, until her husband, cold, wet or weasy, appeared at one door, and the remonstrating ijiaid at another, vowing that supper was being ruined because she could get neither table nor chairs. " If these children chose to play Chinese laundry, they tied strings all around the bed-room, and pinned then-to every towel in the house. Their father, come to make his toilette, stands with face and hands dripping, finding the stand plundered of napcry, and shouts for a towel, losing his temper. TIio servant, coming to set things in order, cries ' she neve saw such children,' tears down the lines, and thrusts away the towels promiscuously: clean ones, half-folded, in the drawers, other clean ones among the soiled clothes, dirty ones on tue stands, and for days confusion is produced thereby. " The fashion for sofas then being a long sofa with hi ^^h arms, these children had a favorite game of sitting on the arms and letting themselves roll violently back on the seat. Imagine the way .springs would break and covers wear out in that sport! They draped themselves in the embroidered piano ana table covers to play charades, and tried gymnastics by jumpir g up and down stairs, as hard as they could pound, over tht nice carpet, "As you may guess, things wore out in this house. The mother vexedly declared she had not a decent room, and could not keep a thing in order. The children played snow-bank in the feather-beds as soon as they were made \.\y>, and when b ds were negligently left to air until noon, they trampled the cloti.es uround, making tents of them. The mother desired money ior various uses; the father, an orderly man, sourly- remarked 'thi* there was no use of laying out nion^ nothing was taken care ol |^ . ( l!l ilt h,S THE COMPLETE HOME. in that house.' The bed-linen, towels and shawls wore ruined by pin holes, the furniture was worn and marred, anything was good enough for a menagerie or a hionkey-house ! Meanwhile, the children were not happier for this license and disoidcr. Tlicy missed dainty taste, and nice furnishings, and the repose of good management ; especially as they grew older they found themselves dwarfed, fretted and discouraged by this lack of order and thrift in their home. " Contrast such a house as this with Cousin Ann's, whciring the beef, ful, and a Httle some minced ese, cooked in , and we shall andemning the had murdered be unlucky if ) our faces and t comedy with h the happier very common- US hear about iter, " and then it will be time for our supper, which Martha, Ann, and Hannah are laying out in fine style." "A family table," I said, " should always be provided with an ample supply of palatable, nourishing, well-cooked, and well- served food. The expense of this food must be graduated by the fulness of the family purse; some people can afford the first strawberries and green peas ; can cat game and fowl when these are dear, and can take the best cuts of beef and mutton ; they arc not obliged to be economical in providing for the table. Other people must study the strictest economy in their family marketing ; unless one has a hobby— as costly books, rare coins, jewels or lace— the table is apt to absorb the greater part of the living-money, and our wastings and our savings arc alike most marked in our larder. But while we undertake to economize in our meals, we must, as an old man was wont to say, do it 'judg- maticaUv;' it is no real saving to buy too little, or unwholesome food, for what we save in this direction is likely to be taken off by doctors' and druggists' bills. However, there arc very many cheap articles of food which are quite as nourishing and pala- table as those which are more expensive ; if we cannot buy sirloin roast, or the finest porter-house steak, there are on the beef nice boiling pieces, which sell for about half the price of these choice cuts, yet arc to the full as nutritious when well cooked ; if we put the boiling-piece into cold water, and let it boil as hard as it can, uncovered, we .shall get little in vigor or flavor for our money; but if, tightly covered, and well seasoned, it is put into boiling water, and then kept gently simmering for several hours, according to its size, you have a piece of meat which is relish- ing and wholesome the first day; will be nice when cold, sliced thinly and covered with salad dressing ; will cook over with vegetables into a fine Irish stew; or minced fine, with seasoning and potatoes, and poured over toast, will make an excellent ha.sh. A little parsley, a lemon or two, with rice for curry, or 1 : i: 3 I ;! i I > -V '-M . > il; l! 1 1' j 1 1 , i I ! t «72 TffE COMPLETE HOME. mashed potatoes and sliced carrots, will afford almost endless methods of cooking over such a bit of meat, and each time it will be agreeable to eye and palate. Samp, hominy, cracked wheat and cracked oats, are invaluable articles of diet, and are all cheap and capable of being cooked in many ways. In all our country districts milk is cheap, and is in itself one of our finest articles of food. If we cannot afford preserves, jellies and canned fruits, we shall find dried peaches, apples and black- berries very cheap, and even more healthful. " In order that at each meal there shall be abundance, variety and attractiveness, and this within the scope of our means, we must have foresight in our housekeeping, and be provided in advance of demand Some hou.sekccpcr.-3 never have anything ready in advance: they arc always on the eve of bankruptcj- in the larder. Now it is not only as cheap, but much cheaper, to have things made ready in advance of need, and in large enough quantities. If you keep plenty of bread on hand, you have the means of making milk or butter-toast, bread-pudding, or you can steam the bread and set it on the table as nice as when fresh from the oven; you can make a well-seasoned stuffing and re-dress with it, and roast the meat left cold from yesterday, and. ornamented with parsley and lemons, it is a dish for a queen. If you provide little jars of jelly and marmalade, little pots of pickles, have cheese dry ready to grate, and meat enough for a salad, or a dish of sandwiches, you can set a luncheon before guest, or member of your family, without con- fusion or delay. It detracts much from the happiness of home to feel that the unexpected appearance or invitation of a friend will be like a bomb-shell flung into the domestic camp. And yet when peopL- have never anything ready, and the entrance of a guest means a mad chase after a Shanghai and a frantic mixing of biscuits, welcomes cm scarcely be o\ the rnorit cordial. That mother of a household is a treasure indeed, whg NOW TO MAKE HOME HAPPY. 473 almost endless 1 each time it miny, cracked f diet, and are ways. In all iclf one of our ves, jellies and es and black- idance, variety our means, we be provided in have anything of bankruptc}* much cheaper, 1, and in large I on hand, you bread-pudding, table as nice as L well-seasoned ; left cold from ons, it is a dish md marmalade, grate, and meat you can set a ly, without con- ipiness of home tion of a friend tic camp. And id the entrance lai and a frantic c of the niorit urc indeed, who m h always able to offer a lunch to friend or family, to pack a delectable basket for a pic-nic on an hour's notice, to prepare, in hot haste, a tasteful luncheon for a traveller to take on boat or cars. Speaking of luncheon, you remember somebody says that Pitt died of not eating luncheon. Where the dinner hour is late. people should not fast from breakfast until dinner. The system runs out of supplies and begins feeding on itself; the brain burns up the body ; like the fires of a distressed ship, where fuel is exhausted, it burns up cargo, and wood-work, and lining to keep itself going, and, if the craft continues to float, it is a mere wreck. If we have dinner at four or five o'clock, then we should not go to bed without supper: for the fast of fourteen or sixteen hours until breakflist is too great a tax on our vitality. If we play tricks on our physique, and like the man famous among fools, try to make our working beast live on a straw a day, we shall, like him, find the brute, dying just as the experi- ment reaches its climax." "And what shall this luncheon be ? " asked Mary Watkins. "Chocolate is vciy nice in cold weather, and lemonade in hot weather, if you can afford it. Where rich milk is plenty, nothing is more delicious than a dish of brown bread and milk, and a plate of fresh berries. Sandwiches, either of ham, beef or tongue, are good. A salad is always in place. A delightful salad can be made of white lettuce, bleached turnip-tops, and celery finely cut, and wcll-dresser' with the salad mixture already recommended to you. A good white soup ai. ! stale bread make a fiir lunch also. Cold chicken; biscuit sliicd thin; plain 'training-day gingerbread;' a plate of thin brc;.ij and butter to accompany a plate of sardines laid out whole and dressed with thin rounds of lemon, or of cucumber-pickle; a dish of crackers, and another of mixed figs and raisins — al/ lliese are good for luncheon. Have little cake or pie for thai meal, but plenty of fruit" ' ill'' I,! 11 I ii I \ 1 mi I- 474 r//£ COMPLETE HOME. "And what is reasonable for supper, if one dines at four of five?" "A glass of milk and some sponge-cake ; a thin slice of bread and butter, and a baked apple ; a sandwich of grated tongue ; a sandwich of very thin bread, buttered and seasoned ; and boiled egg sliced very thin and used instead of meat. Perhaps, for cool weather, the very best supper of all is what we borrow from the Scotch : a dish of oatmeal porridge, eaten either with new milk or with butter and sugar. Figs and fresh grapes are always in order: one can hardly eat too freely of either; and for most people a small cup of cream and a slice of brown bread is a treat fit for the gods." We were now called out to a supper which was beautiful to the eye and delectable to the taste, and very joyfully received by the whole party. I thought my guests would, after supper, branch out to more general subjects, and consider that they had had instruction enough for one day. But, no; when we were a^ain in the parlor the insatiable James Frederick returned to the charge, saying : "Aunt Sophronia, you hinted that we should try to be in order at any time to receive a friend at our table, without being put to extra trouble, or begrudging the entertainment. People also sometimes want to ask half-a-dozen friends or so to a little dinner. Give us some hints how to do this in simple good taste, when there is no one to prepare the feast but the lady of the house and an inexperienced Biddy or two. One would not wish to make much display, nor to be in danger of being ridiculous." " Neatness, simplicity and hearty good-will arc never ridicu- lous," I replied; " and we must call these to our dinner-party. In the case you suggest, I would recommend that as many of the preparations as possible be made on the preceding day, so that the hostess will spare herself fatigue and hurry on the day ics at four of JiOH^ TO MAKE HOME HAPPY. 47S when she must entertain her guests. Let the table-cloth be spotlessly white, and ironed to a high polish; ditto the napkins; and the cloth and napkins must be ironed in folds to match, whether straight folds, diamonds, triangles or boxes. Be careful to stand the table straight, and lay the cloth exactly straight : a side-table must have a smaller cloth, ironed to match. Have a centre-piece of flowers, plam or elaborate, to suit your means and taste; a pair of clear glass-bowls, filled with lumps of ice, set at matched distances, are an addition in ornament, and have the advantage, thus used, that when they begin to show their melt- ing they can be removed with some course, while if the ice is mingled in the centre-piece, it must stay, and become sloppy. If the table is very large, a couple of small boats of flowers can be added where there is room. There should also be a bouquet on the side-board. On the side-table should be placed the plates and other dishes requisite for changing the table. Every dish and every article of glass should be brightly polished; the silver should shine, and everj' shining salt-cellar should be freshly filled and printed in a small stamp. The soup-ladle should be placed where it is to be used : so with the fish-trowel and- the tablespoons. Accurate table-setting is needful to pre- vent confusion, and unless the servants are skilful the mistress of the house had better spread the table herself before she goes to dress. Where the first course is soup, a square or oblong piece of stale bread should be laid on the napkin at each plate. By every plate place two forks, a knife and a spoon: where there is soup that is first course, and nothing else should be on the tablj; but remember to have your caster polished and well filled. When the soup or other plates arc removed, do not let them be piled together, but that of each diner removed sepa- rately on a little server. During the serving of the soup the waitress will stand with a small server at her mistress' left hand to take the soup to the guests. Have your side-table in order* ••h' 1 476 THE COMPLETE HOME. a dish of butter neatly stamped and two goblets, with spare mrkins with colored borders folded in points, improve its ap.Ji-TU-ance. When the fish is set on, warm plates must be laid be ore each guest— no one wants fish on a cold plate. A boat of ish sauce and a dish of salad come on with the fish. Most coc ks say, no vegetables with fish ; nothing but an appropriate salad; but some people like potatoes with fish, and the best rul.i for dinner-giving is to please your guests' taste. Therefore, you may, if you choose, send potatoes on with fish, dressed in thi- wise: pare them evenly, and soak in cold salt water for an hour ; wipe and slice as thin as paper ; have a sauce-pan of lard as hot as can be without burning ; drop the slices in, a handful at a time ; skim out with a skimmer in a couple of minutes, or as: soon as you see that they arc done ; sprinkle with fine salt, and pile on a platter, whereon is a fine napkin laid diamond-wise with corners turned in: properly cooked, these potatoes will not grease the napkin. Around the edge of this dish should be parsley leaves, and lemon-peel chopped fine sprinkled over the parsley. The broiled fish is improved by slices of lemon laid wver it. Before removing the fish, carry away the fork and trowel on a clean plate to the side-table. After the meats come fowls and vegetables, for which hot plates must be served round. The table must be finally relieved of all used dishes, of casters, and unused silver and salt-cellars. If nuts are placed on the table with dessert, salt-cellars should be passed around to each guest, as nuts are always unwholesome eating without salt. After this removal of dishes the table should be brushed with a curved crumb-brush upon a small tray, or a large plate if you have no tray. Let there be no haste nor confusion in making the changes; let the host and hostess converse easily with their guests, and show no nervousness ; if any accident occurs, the less said about it the better, and restore tranquillity as soon as possible Extra napkins and a damask towel, also a wide knife HOW 7 MAKE HOME /htJ'J'Y. All ;ts, with spare s, improve its ;s must be laid plate. A boat he fish. Most an appropriate , and the best 5tc. Therefore, fish, dressed in alt water for an uce-pan of lard es in, a handful ; of minutes, or e with fine salt, d diamond-wise ;e potatoes will i dish should be rinklcd over the s of lemon laid fork and trowel ;ats come fowls vcd round. The ;, of casters, and ccd on the table d to each guest, salt. After this d with a curved : if you have no in making the easily with their dent occurs, the uillity as soon as ilso a wide knife and a soup-plate should be in reserve on the back of the side- table, quickly to repair any spilling of water or gravy. When you use finger-bowls, they, with their colored danuisk napkins, should be set at each plate as soon as the cloth is brushed : it is well to sprinkle a few drops of cologne or of patchouli upon the water of each bowl, but never any musk, as that is very offensive to some people. If such a misfortune happens as that any dish is spoiled — as a burned fowl — and cannot be brought to the table, let the hostess give no hint of the disaster, and make no apologies. However, if she has given to the last possible min- ute a wary eye to her kitchen, such disasters arc unlikely to occur. I have said nothing of serving wines; I only mention it now to assure you that a dinner can be served in good style and in perfectly good taste without a drop cf .vine, or other fermented, malt or alcoholic liquors used in preparing it or served with it, and I entreat you all heartily to set >'oursclvcs against the drinking customs of society, and avoid putting on your tables that which may be the ruin of your own households and a snare to the soul of your neighbor." " I'm a temperance man from this out," declared James Fred- erick. " I'll give a dinner next week," laughed Sara ; " it looks so easy ! "Yes, it looks easy," cried Belinda; "but after aU there is a tremendous amount of work to be done in a well-ordered house- hold, and how is one ever to do it?" " I suppose that is where the good management conies in," said her elder sister. "That is it exactly," I said: "good management makes all this work move easily in its proper order; it takes away the attrition and drag caused by disorder, people sec their way through each day, and know that for another day's work there will be another day. Now I cut lately from a newspaper a p mi r ,4* KiWtZ~. i J 'I I '^ '., I 7' LL ^ I ,_Q T//E COMPLETE HOME. 4/8 paragraph by an observing correspondent, and I pasted it in my scrap-book. Grace, it is worthy of being well read, and there- fore you shall read it." I handed Grace my scrap-book, and she read as follows : «' We see so many farmers working hard from the beginning of the year to its end, and that year a.'ter year, till life ends, with such small results, that we do wish to impress upon the community the true principle of economy a farmer s wife once expressed to us in one word-calculation. Wc found her a slender-looking woman, surrounded by a flock of children, and having the care of a dairy of a dozen cows, with no Bridget to assist her, and still everything moved on like clock-work. The children were tidy, the house neat, the cooking nice, and the butter of gilt-edged quality. We watched her to study the secret of her economical managen:-^nl. She never seemed to be in a hurry, certainly never in a fret, but went from one thing to another as calmly and pleasantly as the butterfly goes from one flower to another. We noticed that she had every convenience for her work. Water flowed constantly in her kitchen and dairy-room, and her churning was done by dog-power. We A-ere satisfied, however, that the secret of her efficiency was not in churns, dogs, water, nor any other conveniences for labor, and we finally asked. ' How do you accomplish all your work with such apparent ease?'* With a toss of her head and a pleasant "smile she r'^.plied, ' By calculacion. Before I go to bed I set my table and make all arrangements for breakfast. Before I get up in the morning I think over the labors of the day, and plan everything out, assigning each duty its time, and when the time comes I attend to the duty-and now the t,me has come for me to skim my milk ; so please excuse me.' Upon th,s she bowed herself out with the grace of a ^ucen. We could not help thinking, happy is the farmer that has such a help-meet." After a little discussion of the theme of good management la domestic work. Grace said : HO IV TO MAKR HOME HAPPY. 479 )asted it in my :ad, and there- 5 follows : , the beginning •, till life ends, press upon the lor's wife once c found her a if children, and 1 no Bridget to ick-worlv. The r nice, and the r to study the ;r seemed to be nn one thing to T goes from one 2ry convenience cr kitchen and ;og-power. We Ficiency was not cnces for labor, 1 all your work icr head and a :fore I go to bed -cakfast. Before ; of the day, and time, and when ow the time has me.' Upon this We could not ;h a help-meet." d management in " How time flics, and there are dozens of things which I wanted to ask Aunt Sophronia to give us a few suggestions about. There are so many little ways of adding to the hap piness of home." " Yes," said Ned Burr, " and one of my favorite ways i keeping house-plants. I dote on them. They nuke a hous twice as handsome, and there is always something fresh, curious and interesting in them to It k at. I mean to have plenty of them in my house. What say you about them, ladies ? " " Some people have the knack of keeping them, and have splendid luck with them," said Miss Black ; " but as sure as I try to have any, they die of a hundred diseases unknown before, somebody runs into my stand and knocks it over, or a terrific freeze reduces them all to black stalks." " Diseases are often occasioned," replied Ned Burr, " by the green plant-fly which sucks out their juice, or by worms in the pot. For the fly, soapsuds or weak tobacco water syringed over the plants, or washing leaves and stems in ammonia water with a camel'-s-hair brush will be a means of riddance ; for worms in the pot, wet with weak lime water; the red spider is a vile plague, but a shower-bath and moist air will settle him. If your flowers mould or mildew, blow a little sulphur powder on them through a quill." " Some plants fall ill," said Sarah, " from too dry air ; a pan of water should stand on the stove, or a wet towel should be hung over the register to moisten the air. Sometimes the fee- bleness of the plant is caused by lack of nourishment : ammonia water supplies this; at other times the earth gets packed too closely in the pot, and no air meets the roots : it is well to stir the earth lightly with a fork. Each pot should have drainage, and flowers should not be kept too wet, especially in cold weather, for it causes them then to frost more easily. We should remember the ways of nature: leaves and stems ais si-l . ;r : r//E COMPLETE HOME. w.t and washed by the summer shower, and often a soaking rain penetrates even to the lowest roots and ' fills all their vems with coolness;' but the earth is not all the time sodden on the surface PL' nts need fresh air several times a week : if the sun is shining and the temperature is not too low. open the wmdoW upon them and let them broathe; give them sun according to their kind. If they get frost-nipped, set them in a dark place and shower them daily with cold water, gradually raismg the.r temperature. When the plant promises to bloom too early, n.p out the flower bud. When a branch or leaf cluster puts out m an ungainly place, nip it off. Sometimes when the plant ,s sickly a close pruning and removing it to another pot will help it Pick off dead leaves : do not let them exhaust the plant by hangincr on h.lf-withered. If plants are to add to the happmess of home, let the home have a share in them: let the children own some and cultivate them, let them be used to decorate the table, and to send to the poor or the sick. The plants w.U look better for all the good they can be made to do. Let each member of the family have his favorite flowers; some prefer one kind, some another. Plants should be on a strong stand th.t cannot be readily knocked over, and which is on casters so that it can be moved occasionally in cleaning the room.' ^^ _ " Speaking of house-plants, and of their care in wmter, said Hester " reminds me of that long, cold season when the day- light flies early. If home is to be happy, we must have some entertainment for these long evenings. Even where the famdy are en^^aged in study, there are some free evenings, and an hour or so Tach evening to spare. A home is not fulfilling its m.ss.on Where the family must go abroad to find all their entertainment. .'That is true," I responded; "and first, one thinks of music as a family entertainment. Where young people have musical taste, and can sing and play together, and are able to have two or three instruments, as piano, organ, flute, viohn or guitar. in a soaking 11 their veins jdden on the : if the sun is 1 the window according to a dark place ■ raising their too early, nip sr puts out in the plant is pot will help it the plant by the happiness t the children o decorate the l;ints will look do. Let each ome prefer one )ng stand thr.t casters so that Ll." in winter," said when the day- ust have some ■here the family rr.s. and an hour lling its mission entertainment." thinks of music le have musical re able to have violin or guitar, I/O IV TO MAKE HOME HAPPY. 481 ihcy will pass many hours in innocent happiness, entertaining themselves, and pleasing the friends who come in. Another very charming accomplishment — one, indeed, which has no superior — is that of reading aloud well. As some families are all good musicians, so there are some who are all good readers ; in cither case the faculty should be sedulously cultivated. Some families are happy in possessing both readers and musicians. By good reading I do not mean loud, excited, tragical tones — these often strain and weary the hearer ; but good reading seizes the spirit of the piece read, understands its heart meaning, and through the ear translates it to the listener's heart. It gives the fun, the pathos, the excitement, wonder, logic, or confusion, and quaint turn, which were in the author's mind. " In good reading there is nothing mechanical. It is not droning over a certain set of sounds, which mean nothing to the heart of the reader, and, consequently, not to that of the hearer. The reader must be in a certain sympathy with what he reads, and by some subtle magnetism he will compel the sympathy of his listener. This is an accomplishment which seems to be always in place. There are in many households some whose eyes will not permit them to read much for themselves ; or there are some who can illy spare time to read. The busy mother finds herself in a strait betwixt two : she wishes to read and enjoy th. last book, or to take the paper and find out what is going on in the world ; but she has the family mending to do. How much more swiftly will her needle fly through rents and darns when a good reader is filling her ear with sweet sounds and fascinating descriptions, adding to the ' charm of the poet, the music of the voice.' By reading, many can be gratified at once. Little children are generally fascinated by the reading even of things which they do not understand, and there is no finer and surer way to develop mind than this. Young people may be led, by the charm of being read to, to follow such works SI ^X- t ' i u '^ 4g2 77/£' COMPLIiTE HOME. as Bancroft, Motley, Macaulay, Rawlinson, and other weighty writers. The sick, unless they are very sick, find the hours of illness beguiled of their tedium by a good reader, lie who reads well can bring in their full impressivcness to the invalid's ear some suitable passages of Scripture. Nothing more culti- vates good taste, intelligence and family affection, than this accomplishment. Be sure, then, and all learn to road well aloud." "And," said Miriam, " next to the art of reading well, let us set the art of telling a story well. What can make the family table more genial, than to have some one tell, really well, an appropriate and not too long story? It persuades the mind from care, and awakens that jolly laughter which promotes digestion. No art is more needful to a mother than this of story-telling. It charms away the pain of a sick child ; dis- sipates a fit of sulks, or a quarrel, as the sun pi't.^- to flight a cloud ; while children's minds seize best the moral lesson con- tained in a short story. We have in the Parables aif example of conveying teaching in a tale." " I never could tell a story , well," said Helen. " I begin, ' Well, once upon a time,' but I come to the end of everything almost immediately. The middle of my narrative In exactly like the beginning, and the end is just like the middle, while all the parts arc as near each othftr as peas in a pod. My story is just like that horrible thing they used to torment me with when \ was little : " ' I'll tell you a story of old Mother Corey, and now my tlory's be^un | I'll tell you another, about her brother, and now my story's dum,'.* " We all laughed at Helen's description of her truly Arabian powers ; but Hester said, briskly : "You can tell a story well if you only think you can, Helen. You have niade a very nice little story of your trials in this line. Forget that it is a story that you are telling ; put out of youi d other weighty nd the hours of cader. I Ic who is to tlic invalid's hing more cuUi- jction, than this rn to read well idinii 'II ^' -4 [%$ mtm A if ..mark- the ^U'^'l' i » ' aiK Ic ino' r,ii ¥ m I III III LI. 1 fl' ANCIENT AND MEDIMVAL HOMES. 435 in his parlor at our first Christmas sociable, "that the domestic hfe of Terah. Abraham, Isaac and Jacob was very much hke that led by the patriarchs before the flood. We must remember first, that the very long lives of men in those days would be hkely to advance rapidly art and invention, and we must not look upon these early fl.thers of our race as hving in a gross or barbaric state, but surrounded by the simple comforts of life- and next we must remember, that while these patriarchs lived a wandering life in tents, continuing probably much of the manner of living of the Antediluvians, in Chaldea, and Egypt and possibly in other countries, men were living in cities' raising great buildings, tombs, palaces and temples ; were going to war, and devoting themselves to manufactures, and agri- culture, and all the arts of life. But the tent-life of the patriarch is our earliest model of the Home. Before the Flood the children of Seth most likely abode in the territory called the Land of Eden, and worshipped God before the fiery presence or Shekinah, which kept the gate of Eden. After the Flood we find the patriarchs building an altar for worship and sacrifice wherever they made a stay of a few months. The chief prop- erty of the patriarchs consisted of flocks, and herds, and droves of camels, and asses. The enumeration of Jobs wealth gives us an idea of these possessions of an eastern rich man. These required a vast number of servants to attend them. 'Servants born in the house' represent master and dependents clinging together for generations. If the master were childless, the chief of his servants was likely to become his heir. The master of the family was both its king and priest: he administered the Aiws and offered sacrifices. Chief over the servants stood the •steward, who was to his master a faithful, confidential friend, as Eliezer to Abraham, given even such business as selecting a' wifp for hie m-icf<>.-'o c^n Tk- *-.-• <• -L r -i """• inc extent or ihc family retinue may be guessed from the fact that Abraham could arm three hundred IS 1 1.1 186 THE COMPLETE HOME. men from his own trained servants. Such an immense estab- lishment moved slowly through a country. The choice of a re.sting-place depended on certain natural advantages: a grove for shade, near lying pasture and water. Finding these the tents were pitched, an altar built, a well or two dug, and the servants, with the different flocks and herds, scattered themselves in suitable locations at greater or less distance. So Job s flocks and herds were stationed over a large extent of country, and Jacob's sons removed with their flocks to a distance of several days' journey. On the line of march the camels and asses were laden with the tents and furniture; the women and children sometimes rode and sometimes walked, and the pace suited the needs of the flocks and herds accompanied by the.r young." , /■ " It seems," said Mr. Nugent, " that I now get a clear view of such a cavalcade moving slowly through the land; and now that they have found a grove like that of oaks at Mamre, how does their encampment look ? " ^^ "Their tents," said our minister, resuming his theme, were of skins or of cloth of woven hair. The coarse black hair of the camel made a dark tent, referred to in the expression, 'black as the tents of Kedar.' These tents were supported by poles The master and mistress had large ones; the servants smaller, according to their position. Often in summer the ser- vants especially the flock-tenders, slept in the open air, or ,n booths made of branches. The tents are pitched in a circle generally, and if the camping is for a long period, a light watch- ^ower is erected a short distance off. The patriarch had a tent for himself; his wife had her own, where her younger children remained with her; a tent was often reserved for the reception of guests; the principal women-servants had their tent; the grown sons had theirs, and as the sons took wives n.w tents were added to the camp. The large tents were divided by \ lii n lense estab- :hoice of a es; a grove T these, the lug, and the i themselves , Job's flocks country, and ca of several Is and asses women and ind the pace nied by their clear view of and now that nre, how does theme, " were black hair of le expression, supported by ; the servants mmer the ser- )pea air, or in led in a circle a light watch- irch had a tent unger children r the reception their tent; the /ivc3, rif^w tents ere divided by ANCIENT A^' MEDIEVAL HOMES, 487 nrtains into three apartments. The furniture was simple : mats and rugs, pillows and coverlets, in use at night, wore piled up by day for seats; the camels' furniture also served as scats. Hand-mills for grinding wheat, bottles of leather, pots and basins, a portable oven, and flat plates or trays of metal, were among the principal belongings, with cups, pitchers, and knives. People generally ate from a large common dish, usin^ their hands or a cake of bread to dip up their food , hence, fre- quent washings of the hands." "And," I asked, " what were the occupations of these fam- ilies?" " Many of the servants, also the sons of the family, led out the flocks to pasture, and guarded them i)ight and day. The steward oversaw this work, and morning and evening 'told ' or counted the flocks. Some members of the family hunted, bringing in game for food. This was Esau's favorite occupa- tion. Sometimes the nomades remained long enough in a locality to raise a crop of grain, or harvest fruit, or gather a vintage, drying grapes and dates, and making wine. The women spun and wove the garments for the family and the curtains of the tents. The men made sandals and camels' furniture, and dressed skins. When guests camt, the master and mistress showed their hospitality by themselves serving them, preparing food and so forth, instead of delegating these offices to serx'ants. Their principal diversions were in music, having a number of simple instruments, usually accompanied by the voice; also the telling of stories and reciting of poems: these are yet the chief diversions of Oriental lands. Writing was practised, and astronomy was a favorite study." "And what about their dress ? " demanded Helen. "Travelling caravans supplied them with the fine linen of Egj'pt, and the dyed stuffs of Phoenicia, and the splendid cloths of the Assyrians and Chaldeans. The women spun, wove and *Mfii y^ m J ' ;* ii I' % If fi ill II r iiii 48S rffS COMPLETE HOME. sewed The veil was a customary and often elaborate article. Jewels as rings, bracelets, anklets, head-tires and necklaces, were purchased from caravans, and much property was invested in these and in mirrors of polished metal. They also wore elaborate embroideries. Perfumes were in constant use, and much time was occupied in preparing them. The staff, the seal and the amulet were choice personal possessions. Combs and pins of metal, highly ornamented, were also among their treas- ures. Scarlet and white were the choice hues ; black and deep brown belonged to servants and to mourning." "And what were the chief articles of food?" asked Miriam. "Vegetables, especially varieties of beans and melons; fruit, the f^g^date, grape and olive being chief; wheaten cakes, olive oil and honey; milk, cheese and curds; fish, when obtainable; locusts, game, birds, and the flesh of goats, sheep, and kine, but flesh was sparingly used. The killing of an animal for food was regarded in a half sacrificial light. The animal was chosen and killed by the patriarch himself, and the blood was poured out in sacrifice. The wife, ^en though a chief princess, esteemed it her proper duty to prepare the food, leaving but minor parts of this work to her attendant maids. Water, milk, the juice of dates, and a sour thin wine of gra' es afforded their drink. Sweetmeats of fruit and honey were in use." " Hospitality was freely exercised. I think," said John Roche. ford. " Yes, the orientals were always noted for this : a guest was always in some sort an angel unawares, breaking the monotony of then- lives. They had also family feasts and festivals, as on the naming or weaning of a child, or his coming to man's After this information given by our pastor, we spent the remainder of the evenmg in general discussion of the theme, and appointed our next meeting at Hester's, where she and I'P \ ANCIENT AND MEDIALVAI. HOMES. 489 )rate article. \ necklaces, was invested f also wore int use, and jtaff, the seal Combs and r their treas- ■y ick and deep d Miriam, nelons; fruit, 1 cakes, olive 1 obtainable; sp, and kine, limal for food il was chosen d was poured hief princess, d, leaving but Water, milk, afforded thc".r \ John Roche ; : a guest was the monotony festivals, as on ning to man's we spent the of the theme, where she and Doctor Nugent must be prepared to expound to us the Classic Home. We expected something rather nice at Hester's, because there they have plenty of money, and their house is full of curioj5itics and antiquities, while we knew their hearts were set on entertaining us as well as possible. We were not disap- pointed. We were received in the front parlor, and when the hour foi- the Home discussion came, the folding doors were drawn back, and we found hung across the whole width of the back parlor a large painted canvas, representing the interior of a Cla.ssic H^me. Before this picture .stood a low table with various curiosities piled upon it. Doctor Nugent began the discussion. "We have concluded to discuss, under the head of the Cla.ssic Home, both the homes of Greece and Italy, without dividing b-'tween them; especially as in an evening like this, one can only describe chief points without going into particulars. The pic- ture which we have here represents the restoration of one of the homes in Pompeii, and from it we gather a general idea of the home of z, rich citizen of Greece or Rome about the time of Christ. In Rome, the home of the Empress Livia has been found and laid open; also, in Greece, we have found the remains of both palaces and private homes, and we find the same general plan in all. Observe that the rooms are small, the ceilings are low, the walls are painted in brilliant hues — orange, scarlet and bluj being favorite; and pictures are not framed and hung on the wall as with us, but painted upon it. The chief floors are mosaiced — that is, made of small cubes of stones of various colors, bedded solidly in mortar to form a pattern as a border, corner arabesques, and a centre-piece, as a pair of doves, a dog, a group of figures, or flowers. These rooms enter upon a central court, open to the sky, but screened by a pavilion from the sun. Mere plays a fountain, the delight of the whole family ; here vines grow, and jars of plants arc in bloom. The floor of the court is in mosaic; around the sides and around i' 1':r III, IS •i } it' 5f I' I T'M II I I dl! ^1 I . 1 ! '. " 11 M 4i.O rATfi COMPLETE HOME. the fountain arc seats or divans in marble or stone ; the an,cients cLlightcd in statuary, and choice works of art are placed in the court or in the rooms opening from it. These were supposed to create beauty of body and mind in the beholders." " I observe," said Mrs. VVinton, " that these rooms have not doors, but draperies hanging from their door-posts." ■' Yes," said Doctor Nugent, " and notice the elegance of the effect. Thf.se walls are of white marble, or the pillars are of polished f!-one or carved wood. Here hang these heavy cur- tains in blue, purple or scarlet, with gold embroideries or deep fringes : they can be dropped for privacy or looped back, throw- ing the whole house into one apartment. For windows we have only these smr^ll, high-up, latticed openings ; for fires the bra- zier full of glowing coals; or possibly some of the apartments have a raised floor under which heat is introduced, and that is called the hypocaiist — a Greek word meaning a fire beneath. I wish to say that the Classic Home carefully attended to three important points : heat, drainage and baths. The drains were supplied with metal or clay-pipes running to the cloacce or drains of the city ; the houses also had deep, covered rubbish pits, and water was freely introduced. When one looks at frag- ments of ancient plumbing, one wonders at so small present advance in the plumber's art. The bath-rooms had tubs, seats around the sides and gayly painted walls. The beauty of the painted and frescoed walls, the elegance lent by open jars oi vases of perfume, the presence of elegant statuary and the' abun- dant use of flowers gave these homes a marvellous grace and refinement, and we do not wonder that they produced painters» poets, sculptors, orators. Notice also that the Classic Home is a religious Home in its way: the fire on the hearth-stone is sacred to the household lares, or hearth-gods ; this shrine with images is the place of the penaics, or household divinities, and here they offer flowers, incense and prayers. In this corner of ; the aacients placed in the e supposed to ims have not sgance of the pillars are of se heavy cur- Jeries or deep 1 back, throW' dows we have fires the bra- le apartments d, and that is e beneath. I ndcd to three J drains were :he cloacce or /ered rubbish looks at frag- small present ad tubs, seats beauty of the open jars or and the abun us grace and jced painters^ issic Home is earth-stone is is shrine with jivinities. and this corner of ANCIENT AND MEDIM VAL HOMES. 491 the largest room you see a carved wooden chest, something like a little wardrobe: that is the family book-case. In that arc kept the precious parchment books, rolled and tied, wrapped in silk, and scattered with perfumes. Books were not then given to children to tear up : books were venerated and treasured, and were choice heirlooms. Here is something else which was an heirloom : this elegant vase and bowl of Samian ware ; tl est and crystal goblets were choice treasures. We are told of one Roman noble who condemned a slave-boy to be eaten alive by carp, because at a feast he broke a crystal goblet. The emperor, who was present, for his cruelty, freed the slave, and ordered all this master's goblets to be broken." " I should like," said Mrs. Winton, " to hear something of these slaves." " They were," said Doctor Nugent, " both captives taken in war and slaves born in the house. Power of life, death and torture lay in the hands of the masters, and often this power cruelly ex- ercised, so that tlv ; Slav, ry was often a terrible thing. Another view of it is, that slaves being made free could take any rank in society to which they had genius to attain, and reached often very loft)- positions, being friends of emperors and nobles. They were idopted and made heirs by childless masters ; they were often educated to be the family schoolmasters or tutors. The famous philosopher Epictetus was a slave. They were often the scribes and readers of the family; if the master were too lazy to learn his letters, he had his slave learn in his place. Many of thcoc slaves were artists and artificers." " Let us hear something about dress and social customs," said Mrs. Burr. " That is Mrs. Nugcnt's part of the discussion," said the Doc- tor; and pulling a cord, he let down over the large canvas of the home three smaller ones — the picture of a Roman woman, one of a young boy, and a central picture of a dining-hall, with guests seated at a supper. J'' ■J m. m * I vm f .' I if II 492 r//E COMPLETE HOME. We all considered the dress very beautiful : it was a white robe, with wide sleeves falling back from the middle of the arm; the skirt hanging in easy folds to the ankle, and showing the ornamented sandal ; at the hem of the dress, and at the waist, a band of purple indicated the wearer's noble blood ; the hair, not frizzed and twisted out of shape, but gathered up into a loose knot, following the contour of the head, was held in place by a l:\rgc ornamental pin, and by a narrow fillet of gold, passing r.bout the head. The fillet was not the only jewel, for she had rings, bracelets and a chain ; also a mirror at her girdle. The lad was represented as crowned with a garland, and going to a feast, having just assumed his toga virilis, or man's dross. The picture of the table next attracted us. Said Hester: "This table occupied three sides of a square; the fourth was left open so that the servants could freely enter to wait on guests. The host and his family occupied the places on the lowest or left-hand sofa or couch— all reclining on one arm at the meal. The place of honor was the lowest on the middle couch. Guests were sprinkled with perfumes : it was the custom for the servants to pour perfumed water from urns over the hands held above a basin, and towels ' with a soft nap ' were then offered for wiping them. The guests wore garlands of flowers— myrtle, parsley and olive were favorites at feast.s. Songs and conversation enlivened the progress of the fea.st; a deal of wine was used, and the fca.sting was carried through many courses and several hours. Fruits, flesh, vegetables, sweetmeats of all kinds loaded the tables. Fortunes were .spent upon a single meal, and such dishes as peacocks' brains and nightingales' tongues were used for their costliness rather than for their flavor. Honey, used alone or made into cakes, was much prized. The slaves cooked and served the meal, entering in a long procession, bearing the dishes. These slaved waited on the table with their tunics kilted up out of the way, and ANCIENT AND MEDIALVAL HOMES. 493 was a -white c of ihc arm; showiiit^ the .t the waist, a tlio hair, not ) into a loose in place by a gold, passing ;1, for slie had girdle. The id going to a 3 dress. The of a s(iuarc; d freely enter led the places lining on one lowest on the ics : it was the roni urns over soft nap ' were ; garlands of tes at feasts. )f the feast ; a irried through h, vegetables, ncs were sjK'nt i^^ mncrnifv'iniT the Clta lias Dccji sj.-..a^gi-rai<^M !••> ^ — -- a — -• c races which came after them. The Celts in a full dress of blue «, , \ « '» m ^'\ 496 THE COMPLETE HO MR. \{\ i :f, >'*' "«'' » 1 J paint must have been eitlier the representatives of the very lowest tribes, or Celts decorated for war in a style to horrify their enemies, just as Indians paint themselves for battle. Probably the Celts of Ireland, in some tribes and instances, did eat men under an idea of vengeance, or to increase, as il was fancied, their bravery. The Celts were very brave, hardy in body, strong of mind, and with a fine capacity for education. When religion and education were introduced into Ireland, the Celts of that country soon became the saints and teachers of the world. The Celts were religious in their natures: their ideas of God, the soul and the future were vague but sublime ; they had none of the trifling prettiness of the classic mythology. Wisdom they reverenced greatly. Their most promising youths were sent to school to the Druids to learn to become priests : they sometimes spent twenty years in their education. This time was employed by them in committing runes and hymns. The Celtic women were strong in body and fierce in spirit ; they frequently went to war with the men ; they also loved the chase. The weapons o.<" the Celts were of stone and bronze." " What kind of places of worship did they have ? " asked Helen. " Great circles of stone, open to the sky, with an altar in tlie centre ; on this altar they often sacrificed human victims." "And what kind of liouscs did they have— arc any left?" "Three or four remnants of such houses exist: .some on t'le shore of the Irish Sea, one or two in Scotland. These are beehive huts, with low, circular stone walls; thoy were about fifteen feet in diameter, and possibly as many hi-h in the centre— no fires, no separate room;-..' The fire was out of doors. a great bonfire in the centre of the hut circle, where they roasted their meat on spits before the fire, or making a great hole, lined il with red-hot stones, and putting a v-'hnle boar therein covered it with cinders and hot ashes, and so baked it" ^XCfK.VT AhTD MEDIyEVAL HOMES. 5 of the very yle to horrify cs for battle. instances, did :ase, as it was ave, hardy in for education, o Ireland, the id teachers of natures: their but sublime ; sic mythology. )mlsing youths ccome priests : lucation. This cs and hymns. in spirit ; they 3ved the chas(\ ize." have?" asked an altar in the victims." any left ? " ;t : some on t'lo nd. Tliese are icy were about ly high in the as out of doors, :le, where they making a great T j\ wlinie boar ,nd so baked it" 4b7 "Then, did they never boil food?" asked Mary Watkins. " Yes ; they had clay-pots which they set in hot ashes, and made the water boil by dropping in red-hot stones." "A fine way to boil potatoes ! " cried Belinda Black. "They had no potatoes, for they have been but lately discovered and cultivated. They had beans, and they ground meal in a quern, such as our minister described to you as a mill in patriarchal times. What a trouble it was to strike a fire, when there were no matches, and flints must be struck together, or sticks rubbed on each other to elicit the wonderful spark ! Furnished with clubs and with rude knives of flint, these Celts killed and flayed elks, oxen, bears and wolves ; they dug caves for store-houses or habitations, cut down trees, cut up peat for fuel, and managed to scrape the surface of the ground, and sow a little grain. They dressed skins and made rude cloth for clothing; they made nets, and in boats of ox-hide stretched on a wicker frame they went out fishing ; they made baskets of osier and willows, caught birds in traps, or shot them with arrows or with stones. In such rude homes the feeble soon died, the strong only survived. At mid-winter they kept a feast in honor of the northern gods. They boiled ducks, as I told you, by red-hot stones ; hung the haunches of elks on sticks before the fire; the women made cakes by pounding up grain and spreading the wet meal on stones before the fire to dry into bread. The fortunate hunters put over their doorways the horns of an ox, sometimes eleven feet across : these were their Ijophies. They made for their children bows, clubs, tmy hide- boats, and knives of bone. They sang songs of battle, and of the fierce gods of the North-land. When wild beasts attacked them they fought them like beasts also, and the best 'hunter was the best man." "And how did these people bury their dead ?" asked Miriam. " In barrows or mounds. With the dead body they put food, 8« I #i 498 THE COMPLETE HOME. V I weapois, household utensils. Many of these barrows ycj exist A rude people, indeed, yet with the elements of grand civil- ization in them. Many of the Celtic tongues still remain, and some of their runes and songs arc very lofty and poetic. The introduction of the Roman civilization, then of Christianity, the mingling, first, with the strong Saxon, then with the more polished Norman, have all contributed to change this furious hunter-Celt, of the beehive hut, into the gentleman and scholar." "Mrs. Burr showed us some portfolios of pictures which she had made of Celtic relics: among these a hut, a barrow, a cromlech or place of worship, some weapons, knives, a hand- mill, a hand-made clay-pot, some water-jars and cups ; copies from English books, or from articles in various museums." Our next gathering was at Mrs. Winton's, and as the Saxons succeeded the Celts in the British Islands, and were also in the line of our ancestors, we were to hear next about them. Mr. Winton had been so much occupied with his business that he could not prepare for this occasion, and it fell to Mrs. Winton to give us our information. She began thus : "A .tomb in an Anglo-Saxon cemetery takes us very tenderly into the midst of the home-life of the Saxons. In this tomb lies a lady, clasping the hand of her husband, who rests at her right, and on her left arm reclines the body of a litde girl. Here is a family buried lovingly together. Families or married pairs are often found thus buried in Saxon graves, and as these people kept slaves, whom they held in close domestic relations, they often had their slaves buried at the head and feet of their own tombs." " Please, before you go further," said Sara, " tell us what are our sources of information concerning Saxon home-life ?" "They are four," said Mrs. Winton; "first, and least, are the remains of a few ancient Saxon abodes ; second, wc have a few old songs and talcs which refer to domestic life; third, we have ANCIENT AND MEDLEVAL HOMES. 499 ows ycj: exist if grand civil- il remain, and . poetic. The liristianity, the ■ith the more [e this furious I and scholar." ires which she , a barrow, a cnives, a hand- 1 cups; copies Liseums." as the Saxons rere also in the )ut them. Mr. usiness that he o Mrs. Winton s very tenderly In this tomb i\\o rests at her of a little girl, ilies or married 23, and as these nestic relations, .nd feet of their tell us what are nic-life ?" nd least, are the i, wc have a few ; third, we have ancient manuscripts with illuminations, hand-painted pictures, gensrally the productions of monkish writers, and these pictures represent freely to us the dress, homes, furniture and manners of the Saxons ; fourth, we have numerous mounds or barrows where they buried their dead, putting with them money, ornaments, clothes, weapons, utensils ; out of all these sources we can quite clearly reconstruct the homes and home-life of our Saxon ancestors, from twelve to seven hundred years a"-o." " Why," asked Ned Burr, " are there so few remains of Saxon houses?" " The Saxons," replied Mrs. Winton, " were never a building people: they had little genius for architecture. We get that taste and capacity from our Norman blood, and that witli Jewish instructions, for Jews were the first to build good dwellings in Britain. The Saxons laid a rough foundation, piled up earthen walls, with a little of stone or reeds intermixed, laid on a thatch of reeds and straw, and the house was done ; it was but one story high, and not all under one roof They made a grand outer wall or fortification of earth ; this had one entrance, and at one end they reared a two-story tower: this arrangement was for defence. Next they made a central room or hall, with a roof having a hole in the centre ; under this hole, on the earth, or stone-paved floor, they made a fire: even the houses of early kings had no finer reception-room than this. Around this hall were the sleeping-rooms or bowers for the family. These were frequently detached from each other and the hall, had no fires, and sometimes no windows ; the floor was paved or of wood, the roof of thatch. We read of wild animals or of enemies getting into these bowers and carrying off women or children, while armed men lay in drunken sleep in the hall : so, too, often an enemy would send a spy to scale the earth wall, and set fire to fhPQo nnr»r offnt. ff^^^-^rl k-^-** — 'TX.- n r .i »'• • jjui.i, ..sr,,,r-rO''iva numcs. mc- wuH.s oi tnc wcaitnicr houses were hung with tapestry made by the women: beds ■ . i ti .i, .V ».,ii i ! .,S .; i f - II i 1 1 L nil jI 500 rz/fi COMPLETE HOME. were wide shelves fastened t. the wall, with sacks of straw on them, and woollen coverlets : lords and kings had nothing better. The floor had fresh rushes strewn on it in place of a carpet. Even so late as the year looo, kings' rooms were carpeted with straw or rushes strewn over the stone or earth floor. The table was a wide plank on tressels, and when not in use was stood up against the wall. From this fact comes our word board, as 'hospitab'^ board,' for a dining-table. Among great people it was common to have the table always laid out with bread, meat and mead, for all to eat as they chose." '■ Were they not great drinkers of ale and beer? " asked Dick " Yes, very. The horns of oxen and cows were often used as drinking-cups, having figures carved on them, and metal rims. As these could not stand up, they must be emptied at a draught and laid down : a fine excuse for greedy drinking. Three- legged stools were the common seats ; but they had ponderous chairs with backs and arms, huge cushions, a footstool, and a square of woven carpet, or tapestry, to lay under the feet. The husband and wife were the king and queen of the f:\mily. They had a great chair with two seats in which they sat throned at the head of the board, or by the fire, while their children stood next them, and the servants behind the children; or the elder children sat on stools, and the servants stood. So at the table all ate together : the parents in their big chair at the head ; the guests and children next; the servants below the salt. A guest, a priest and an eldest son were given places of honor." " What fuel did they use ? " asked Mary Watkins. " They had wood, coal, cinders, peat. For lights they had from their Roman neighbors an open oil lamp with a floating wick, but used more frequently candels, very like our candles. They were made by squeezing a lump of fat about a wick, and ^, . . . 1- __ - _*.•-/. «.. oUnro \rnn- t1iii«! wp rct tlic word this was stuck un a oirtrt, Oi -ji!..rj- , ■ - o candle-stick. Notice that our words for fuel, as coal, cinders, ks of straw on nothing better, e of a carpet, were carpeted 5r earth floor, ten not in use ict comes our :able. Among always laid out chose." ? •• asked Dick •e often used as ,nd metal rims, ed at a draught nking. Three- had ponderous Dotstool, and a r the feet. The ; C\mi\y. They • sat throned at r children stood :n; or the elder So at the table it the head ; the ,v the salt. A es of honor." cins. lights they had with a floating ;ke our candles, jout a wick, and Iff P-et the word as coal, cinders, ANCIENT AND MEDI/EVAL HOMES. 601 wood, our words for common food, for cooking utensils, for ordinary furniture, for domestic labors, and for Oiniily relations, all come to us from our Saxon ancestors. Speaking of fire and lights, the Saxons, when they wanted some .special illumination, stuck many of their candels on a fanciful mctal-bcarcr called a * candel-tre,' and the first fashion of our candclabras or chande- liers. Our word larder, meaning a pantry for food, is Norman, but the early Saxons had a word of the same meaning — ' Spic- hus;' this meant the house of their food, and their chief article of food was bacon, called by them ' spic' The Normans called the ' spic-hus ' ' lard-er ' for the same reason, because it kept the lard : i. e., the pork or bacon." " What did they use for food besides bacon ? " asked Belinda. ■ " Cheese, honey, mead, milk, butter, ale, also vegetables, especially beans. Potatoes and peas were quite unknown. Meat was roasted on a spit, or boiled in a pot hung over the fire on a crane. Fish they usually boiled; from this we get our expression, ' Here's a pretty kettle of fish ! ' The Saxons said ' cytel-fisch.' Soup or broth was much used. Forks were never seen; plates were uncommon; cooks politely brought in birds or bits of meat fresh from the fire on the metal-roasting spits, and the guests gracefully took them in their fingers, and blew them until they were cool. Manners for which wc would banish a child from the table were quite elegant among these, our Saxon ancestors." We all laughed at this description. Miriam asked : " Were they given to feasting ? " " Yes ; and had cook-books, regular cooks, and state dinners. All the ladies prided '.emselves on knowing how to cook. They were fond of salt, pepper and garlic, also of the sour juice of fruits as a dressing. They baked their bread in flat- cakes, marked with a cross as an act of piety. Cups and mugs had round bottoms so that they would not stand : hence, our I 1 1 :| III! ;: i 502 77//f COMPLETE HOME. word tumblers for our drinking-glasses, which stand fj-mljr enough." "And at what time did they eat their meals ? " asked 1 homaa Black. " They had three meals daily at early hours. There is ii, old Saxon rhyme which ran thus: " • To rise at five, to dine at nine, To sup at five, to sleep at nine. Makes one live to niuety-and-nine.' " " Horrors! " said Mrs. Black ; " I'm glad I didn't live in tKose days I " " Tell us something more about their manners," said Mi,.iam. " Young babies were swaddled from head to toe as closely as Indian pappooses. At ten months old the swaddling was relinquished, and they learned to crawl about. Until the age of five or six they tumbled about naked, or very nearly so. During the day the men were busy at their hunting, fishing or rude agriculture; the women cooked, spun, wove, sewed, worked tapestry ; the children kept in the house-enclosure or in their mothers' bowers. In the evening the family gathered in the hall : the parents on the settle, or big double seat, near the fire; the men cleaning their weapons or making bows and arrows; the guest, or the family-harper, or some wandering mimic-singer, had a chair, and sang ballads, and told stories, and all the news he had picked up in his travels. Often the priest, or a monk finding the home more attractive than his cell, had also his seat by the hearth, and made all eyes and mouths open with wonder as he told legends of the saints, or described his journeys through England, his life in some monastic school, or, more wonderful still, what he had seen at Rome, or even at Holy Sepulchre among the Infidels." " What about their education ? " asked Hester. ■ They most of them after Alfred's day learned to read and stand fjrnly asked 1 homas rhere is &i old I't live is tKose ' said Mi,.iam. toe as closely swaddling was Until the age ery nearly so. :ing, fishing or wove, sewed, enclosure or in ily gathered in ; seat, near the ing bows and me wandering d told stories, ;ls. Often the ctive than his i all eyes and ■ the saints, or life in some le had seen at dels." d to read and ANCIENT AND MEDIEVAL HOMES. 503 wnte; also arithmetic and Latin. But these accomplishments were more usual for girls than for boys, for the boys were zeal- ous in hunting, fishing and fighting, unless they meant to be priests. A lad was especially taught carving. Queen Edith was wont to meet the children returning from school, question them on logic and grammar, and give money to the best schol- ars. Their books were written on parchment, and illustrated with paintings. Clerks prepared many of these at a great price. Some families kept a clerk to collect and write out a library for them. Books were often bound in velvet and gems." "What amusements did they have?" asked Sara. "They were very fond of music, poetry-making and singing; they cultivated fruit and flower-gardens with enthusiasm. Em' broidery was a passion with the dames; chess, backgammon and dice were also very common." "I have heard much of their hospitality," said Miriam. "Yes. They went out to meet and welcome a guest; sent him to the bath-room ; gave him a chief seat at table; stood by, and waited on him as he ate. Ladies thought it the very cream of good manners to stand and wait on a guest. They had books and songs on courtesy and good manners, and we find that a thousand years ago Saxons taught their children not to enter a room without knocking, not to repeat what they had heard or seen in a neighbor's house; and to keep their hands and finger-nails clean. A tavern in those days was a road-side drinking-place, where decent people were loath to lodge— all houses were open to the traveller. Bcde, a venerable and holy monk, gives these rules as to hospitality: ' First, wash the hands and feet of your guest; second, feed him; third, lodge him; fourth, after two days and two nights of free hospitality, inquire' his name, his intentions and his antecedents, for after this y/>u are responsible for his doings if he remains your guest. ' " " What was the domestic character of Saxon women?" asked Cousin Ann, ■.}!' \',\ '1 < i i it ii 504 r//£ COMPLETE HOME. " They were devoted mothers, very sharp mistresses often, at. their slaves were so completely in their power. In their married relations they were often unamiable, for marriage was usually a matter of barter and treaty between parents, the young people having no voice in the matter. They thus frequently found sach other uncongenial, and divorce was very common. Men even traded wives, and women allowed themselves to be bartered away, hoping for better fortunes. The Roman Catholic Church has always been very creditably arrayed against divorce, and it used its whole power to maintain the marriage tie among Saxon Catholics, but for some two hundre* years with but little effect." " Of course," said Mrs. Burr, " the Saxon homj was a con- stantly improving home in its furniture, manners and customs, as Saxons were a studious people, and were more and more thrown into contact with other and more refined nations." "Yes," said Mrs. Winton, "the wild Saxons who invaded England after the Romans departed were moulded by the end of Alfred's reign into a single strong nation, with schools, churches, and agriculture, sotne manufactures, and with com- fortable homes; the kingdom had become a prize worthy of the desire of William the Norman." " The entrance of William and his Normans to England," Sriid Doctor Nugent, " brings us to another period in our history of home-life. I see on Aunt Sophronia's face a serene smile, that betokens her self-gratulation at having escaped giving us a disquisition ; Aunt Sophronia rejoices too soon. Day after to- morrow evening we propose all to be at her house to listen to a description of English homes after the Norman Conquest." Every one laughed, and I said, with truth, that I wished that they had chosen some one who knew more about the subject. "These talks on old-time homes," said John Rochcford, "are i sscs often, at. their married was usually a y^oung people [ucntly found mmon. Men to be bartered tholic Church divorce, and je tie among with but little J was a con- and customs, )re and more ations." who invaded id by the end with schools, "•d with corn- worthy of the to England," in our history serene smile, :d giving us a Day after to- ; to listen to a onquest." hat I wished )re about the )cheford, " are ANCIENT AND MEDIEVAL HOMES. 606 not meant to be exhaustive or learned lectures : they are merely to give us some ideas of the progress of domestic life, of the gradual introduction of our present conveniences of furniture, dress and refinement. What are now the ordinarj- comforts of our poorest homes were once luxuries to kings; among the Saxons, up to the Conquest, a pillow was a comfort bestowed only on sick women, and a man who could five years after his marriage buy a flock-bed and a pair of heavy blanket, or wool quilts thought him cif we I off The poor ate their common food of porridge an 1 raiik, or .oup, from a little wooden trough, called a trencher; ihrc. horn- .poons and one huge knife was a fine outfit of tablewa: - v hiie glass in a window and a decent chimney were unknown." "I'm glad," said Mrs. Black, "that I was not born in 'good old times ! ' " When my guests on Thursday evening were ready to hear the few and simple observations which I had prepared on Norman homes, I began : "I find my subject naturally following, and well introduced by Mrs. Winton's talk. The Normans were in possession of greater luxuries, though not at all what we would call splendor. They built houses of two stories, and made use of the round arch for doors and windows. The Normans were fond of revelry and had elaborate kitchens; they kept family butlers and bakers, and notice that many of our present surnames come from those who originally held these positions, or wrought in certain trades, as: Butler, Baker, Stewart (from house-stewart), Spencer (/. e., house- keeper or dispenser oi^xoy\s\oxv% and funds), Smith, and so forth. The Normans used many kinds of meat and gave it the French names, held by us to-day, as pork for pig-meat, veal for calf, 6eef for cow or ox-meat— all these names being Norman or French in origin, the spelling being .-Jtered. Thev also used many birds and fowls, especially geese, of which they kept large 506 THE COMPi^ETB HOME. flocks under care of goosc-hcrds. The table furniture was more gorgeous in kind though not great in variety ; more platters of metal were used, but no forks, and almost no plates; drinking- cups and flagons wore of gold, silver and pewter. ICvery table had a supply of napkins, and basins for washing the hands, as people so liberally used their fingers for eating. "As to sleeping, many people of all ages and both sexes occupied the same room, a custom which now excites our indig- nation in tenant houses, and in the present mean huts of many English laborers. The entire lack of glass in windows, the poor fit of doors and shutters, and the general loose build of the houses, insured ventilation, and with the hearty out-of-door life of every day probably was the means of saving the entire Saxo- Norman race from dying of scrofula, which is pre-eminently a disease of close apartments and foul air. The servants and com- mon people lay in their ordinary day-clothes on the flour of llm hall or chief room. Visitors were freely received in tho bed- rooms, and, as chairs were few, they frequently sat on the bed, and so, perched like a set of school-girls in a frolic, they had collations served them. The children were sent to school, and the girls were quite well taught. Wandering minstrels, jugglers, mountebanks and story-tellers went up and down the country, and paid for their entertainment at houses by performing their music or tricks. Singing often accompanied the meals. An ancient book has the story of Herod and John l^aplist, and shows Salome, the daughter of Herodias, standing on her heail before Herod, at which performance king and courtiers look highly edified, .'he Normans presently added to the house a guest or reception-room, called a pcxrhnr or talking-i)lacc, from which we derive our parlor. Musical instruments were owned; a picture in an antique book shows two men playing together on an organ, and a man or ach side blowing; they are in contortions of eflort but seem liturc was more lore platters of ites; (hinking- ;•. I'A'cry table : the hands, as nd both sexes :ites our indig- i huts of many dows, the poor Li build of the 3ut-Qf-door life le entire Saxo- re-eniinently a 'ants and com- Iie floor of the d in the bed' Lt on the bed, rolic, they had to school, and trcls, jugglers, 11 the country, rforniing their e meals. An I Ihptist, and r on her head :ourtiers hmk > the house a ig-place, from in an antique in, and a man Tort, but seem ANCIENT AND MEDIEVAL HOMES. gQ? unable to furnish wind enough to the instrument, and one player has stopped to shake his fist at them. The Normans were great gamblers, and gambled with the game of chess, a game invented m the far East and brought by Byzantine Greeks from the Sara- cens. Its earliest mention is in 1067, in a letter written by the Cardmal Bishop of Ostia to Tope Alexander Second, and in this he complains that the Bishop of Florence n'ays chess, because the law only forbids priests to play dice. In the thirteenth cen- tury cards began to be used, and at this time masques and mountebanks in private houses began to go out of fashion Two favorite pieces of furniture were a treasure-chest for valu- ables, called a huchc, and a frame for hanging clothes, called a pcrchc. The huche was heavy, large, carved, placed at the foot of the bed, and used as a divan or seat. It was the forerunner of the sofa and the linen-chest. The pcrche, at first a mere bar w.th pegs in it, was the predecessor of our hat-rack and ward- robe. Certain luxuries of life, which we regard as modern, are found depicted in the illuminated books of the tenth, twelfth and thirteenth centuries, as gloves, ca/riages, and side-saddles. Copies of old pictures containing these are to be found in an English work by the antiquarian, Thomas Wright, ' Momes o^ Other Days.' Our camp-chair has its exact counterpart in a picture in a French romance of 1450; and our fine chandelier was called by the Normans a candlc-bcam, being three or four crossed pieces of wood hanging from the ceiling by a chain, and liaving iron points whereon to stick candles. " In Norman times ladies began to practise painting, medi- cine and nursing as a business, but, unhappily, about the year 1500, we find that the formerly discreet wives of England arc accused of going to taverns and pot-houses, and pictures represent them sitting on benches with their gossips drinking ale in public places. So unfortunately, at present, women, evrn with babes in arms, may be seen hanging about saloons and i P'i 508 THE COMPLETE HOME. riii:.: i gin-palaces. Some of these pictures show the husbands coming to orJcr their wives home, and these muscular dames square-off and maintain a pitched battle for their rights." " Neither better nor worse than some viragoes now," said Dick, laughing. " Human nature develops itself about on the same line in all ag;.'s and countries, if left to itself," remarked our minister. '"And that was a peculiarly rough age," said Doctor Nugent. " 1 he kingdom was torn with quarrels between the nobles ; the chi rch was arrayed against the laity ; the colleges were centres of uiobs. A religion and an education for the commons, and a rec( gnition of individual rights and human dignity were needed to sjbdue and civilize people." "At this time," I continued, " a son at fifteen generally chose for himself his line of life, as war, the priesthood, the college, or agricultur.', and his father furnished him for it as well as he could. Daughters were married with respect to their dowry, and matches were made usually by the parents, with reference to neighborly or pecuniary convenience. We catch glimpses in song, story and picture of the love of home, of husband and wife, of parent and child, and we have stray views of little English children playing with toy-whips, swords, dolls, hobby- horses, tops, balls, and all the playthings of modern childhood. Clothes were made in nearly the .same fashion for young and old, and boys and girls looked like elderly people cut short. Home-spun, or linsey-woolsey, made to last a lifetime, was worn by all ; buckram and leather were used in breeches and jerki.is. Stockiii. were yarn knit, and shoes for the poor were often of wood, or of undressed hide. Fur and feathers were a fivorite trimming, and velvet and silk were imported, decked with lace and pearls for holiday and high occasions. But then fashions did not change, and the best gown passed from mother io chiUl and grandchild, and the father's state coat was Iianded to the third and fourth, generation." i * sbands coming mes square-off )es now," said same line in all minister. )octor Nugent, lie nobles ; the :s were centres ammons, and a y were needed generally chose the college, or as well as he 3 their dowry, with reference :ch glimpses in husband and views of little >, dolls, hobby- lern childhood, for young and iplc cut short. :imc, was worn cs and jcrki.is, r were often of ivcre a favorite eked with lace ; then fashions iiother lo child handed to the ANCIENT AND Mill) 1 .1.1 A I. HOMES. 609 *'What," asked Miriam., "was the increase in furniture?" "As wealth and trades multiplied, and crusaders and ncr chants returned from the luxurious East, furnishing becanu- more elaborate and varied. The Saxons had bellows, toners poker and fire-shovel ; the Normans added andirono and fire- screens of elegant designs ; chairs were constructed of lighter and more comfortable proportions ; the table had its solid top and its own legs, and was no more a board on tressels ; lanterns were arranged for dark nights, and Sedan chairs and coaches for riding; window-curtains, and squares of carpet, and rugs wer'j introduced; the pcrchc became a wardrobe and a hat-rack; hassocks, stools and sofas filled the rooms ; pictures decked the walls, and books were more common ; printing opened lo all men the possib'Hty of a library; the tables rejoiced in cups, plates, forks and spoons. The Saxons and Normans became one people; then the English liberties were established; the Wars of the Roses ended ; the Homes of England bloomed in the coarse magnificence of Tudor times, and then in the French elegance of the Stuart reigns, and the quaint, grotesque elabo- rations of Queen Ann, alter whose furniture, and pottery, and jewelry we are now again going mad. It is worthy of remark that now in our humblest homes we have the comforts and little conveniences which it has taken ages to perfect." "And," observed John Rocheford, " we might remember that people lived, and throve, and were happy, without what we call the necessaries of existence, without carpets, curtains, bureaus and toilette tables, arm-chairs and book-cases." " Let us," remarked Mr. Winton, " not forget the ancestry of our domestic conveniences: our book-case was once the little carved Roman roll-chest; our wardrobe a peg on a beam; our chandelier a lump of tallow stuck on a stick ; our sofa a money clic.'it ; our chair a ' fitid sioi \ ' our bed a .iliclf in the wail ; out carpet an armful of straw ; our oven a hole in the ground ; our LU 510 T//E COMPLETE HOME. goblet a polished cow's horn; our plate a rough wooden trencher, a kind of chicken-trough." " Well," said Doctor Nugent, " to-day, in our western out- posts, people, brave enough to be emigrants and pioneers of civilization, arc building up states, living just as rudely as this until rompctcnce and the railroad overtake them ; and they are making the best parts of our country. NeiUicr are they coarse nor unhappy because of these rough-and-ready surroundings. I have dined with a thorough gentleman with blocks of wood for seats, pine-bark for plates, and our pocket-knives to cut our meat, and relished the dinner too." A very aged lady had accompanied Mrs. Burr to all these gatherings, seeming to enjoy them highly. She spoke for the first time : " When I was a child I lived five years in an Indian wig- wam." " Oh, tell us about it, pray do ! " cried all the young people, eagerly. " There is nothing to tell," said the old 1 "y, simply. " They stole me and I stayed until I was discovr.ed and taken back. It was on the shores of Lake Erie. The wigwam was made of poles stuck in the ground and tied with bark-bar.ds at the top. In winter it was hung with skins. Skins and cedar branches lay on the door to sit and sleep upon. In .summer the wigwam was covered with bark and branches. The description given of Celt life reminded me of our Indian life. The wigwam some- times had a curtain across the middle, making tvvo apartments. During the day the front flap was folded back ; the fire was out- side on the ground. When we moved camp the women struck the wigwams, loaded the little horses with poles, curtains, big kettles, baskets and pappooscs, and away , rt. All the work was done by the women : tiiey set up >• -; ams, collected fuel, dressed skins, made clothes, poun led fruit into a kind of f »ugh wooden western out- d pioneers of rudely as this and they are ■e they coarse surroundings. :s of wood for 2S to cut our : to all these spoke for the 1 Indian wig- young people, nply. " They d taken back. I was made of lids at the top. r branches lay - the wigwam ption given of 'igwam some- vo apartments, e fire was out- women struck , curtains, big rt. All the ams, collected into a kind of f ANCIENT AND MEDIAEVAL HOMES. 511 Beer, dried or jerked meat and fish, pounded corn into coarse meal; were slaves, in fact, toiling with no tliaiiks from morning to night. The men and boys hunted, fished, fought, danced, got drunk, made bows and arrows, and slept half the day when they felt like it. It was no life of Arcadia, in spite of the poetry books. The summers were all heat, mosquitoes, hard work ; the winters were successions of cold, sickness, sore hands and feet, and often of failing provisions and long-continued hunger. Yet I have heard of boys mad to go out West and live with the Indians, and of young women who longed to marry an Indian chief or brave. All I can say is they never tried it, or the>- would not talk such folly." " VVc might continue our Home Talks indefiniLcly," said Mr. Burr. "We could discuss the Homes of Egypt and Chaldea. the Homes of Central Africa, the Home of the Puritan, the Western settler, the Home of revolutionary days. Each varietA- would present its likeness to other varieties and its own distinct features But in all diversities we should find this fixed fact, that the Home is the centre of man's thoughts, the source of his comfort, the mould of his habits. The cradle of the child is the cradle of nations and of the church. The parents and the children abiding together, whether their possessions be few or many, make a Home, and how poor soever in property, this Home by faith and love can be a pattern of Heaven— a paradise on earth." i m, CHAPTER XXI. THE MODLL. HOME. AUOT S0P!IRONIA's IDI A OF A li JME !N ITS BEJiT ESTATS. •M;:.OING one afternoon to call on Hester, I found her sitting ^'iit '-' ^''^^' ^'^^^' ^'"d'^w of the parlor reading Plato. ef^S ' Still the favorite book, Hester ? " I said. fa- She iiid it in her lap with a snile; then replied: "Tlie favorite book, and the favorite passage. Listen, here is something which you will like, Aunt Soplu mia. " Socrates is told that m'an cannot find his iJ eal. He replies : " 'Aye, he will— in the city which is his own, though in his native country perhaps not, unless some providential accident should occur.' " ' I understand : you speak of that city of which we are the founders, and which exists in idea only : for I do not think there is such an one anywhere on earth." " ' In heaven,' I replied, ' there is laid up a pattern of such a c;ty. and he who desires may behold this, and beholding may -overn himself accordingly. But whether there really is, or ov.-r will be, such an one on earth, is of less importance to him ; t,>r he will act according to the laws of that city, and of no olhcr.' '< Is not that beautiful, aunt?" said Hester, as she closed the book. " It .seems as if the gray old heathen must have caught some revelation of the glorious city, the Nc rusalem, whose maker anH builder is God." "As hr elops his city in its mm t' " said, " it partakef r ESTATE id her sitting ato. hen replied: isten, here is He replies : liough in his itial accident h we are the do not think em of such a ^holding may really is, or tance to him ; ty, and of no she closed the t have caught jsalem, whose J, " it partakes THE MODEL HOME. 513 of the twilight of the heathen mind. But when it dawns on him as a whole, one would think he had been given a glimpse into the world of perfect models: the world which holds for us the ideal beauty; the ideal city; the ideal existence; the ideal character ; the ideal home." " Let us fancy," said Hester, looking across the lovely land- scape which lay beyond her window, "that all that is really good here, inasmuch as it is good, partakes of the character of God, is in harmony with him ; it is, therefore, a straight line, for he never deviates, deflects, nor has the shadow of a turning. It is also infinitely extended— eternized ; therefore, being ''a straight and infinitely extended line, it is not bounded by our mortal limits, but is projected into the future world, indefinitely to develop itself in a growing likeness to the mind of its Maker. Of these things may be the home, designed, established, con- tinued and finished in him. What then might be the infinite possibilities . f the Home, the nursing place of immortality, immortal in iteelf ! " • " You lead me too far," I said ; " as the poet cries, ' to fields beyond our ken." Who is it that says : ' There are plenty who indicate to us the road to the skies, but this man taught us a way through this lower world ' ? " " That is Sauvestr6 speaking of Onck Maurice, and Sauvestr6 has a very pretty paragraph on the Home. Let me read it to you." She took a book from the table, and read : " Never before had I so comprehended the ineffable attraction of the family. What sweetness in these always shared joys, in this community of interests which confounds sensations, in this association of existences, which out of many beings forms one single being ! What, indeed, is man without these affections of the 'hearth- sfo.ne, which, as so many roots, fix him solidly in the earth and permit him to drink in all the juices of life? Strength, happif 33 . it. 5H THE COMPLETE HOME. ness— do not they all come from thence ? Without the family, where shall man learn love, mutual aid and self-sacrifi e? Society in miniature, is it not the Home which teaches us how to live in the world at large? Such is the sanctity of the hearth-stone, that, in order to express our relationships with God, we have borrowed words invented for the family. Men have called themselves the children of the Supreme Father." "Yes," I said; "here is not only God's ideal of human life, but it is the foundation of society, of the state. This is our inviolate ark, and who would injure or destroy that would dcs'jroy human bonds and national strength. Let us exalt th? sphere of Home." "Since you will not devote your time," said Hester, "to fancies of what the Home might be in the land that lies very far off, will you give a little time to explicating your view of a Model Home in this world ? In fact, I have a request to prefer to you, and I would have visited you for that purpose to-day, if you had not come here. Grace Winton is to be married to Dr. 'Nugent's brother. They mean to live here in our little town, and to build a house for themselves. You planned and super- intended your house building, and every one likes it. Grace wants you to draw up for her your views of a Model Home. You can give your ideas of externals and internal .3. Depict it as it had better be when people are able to choose a site, and set up the home without being ham.pcred by necessity of saving, and yet do not intend to live in a style of extravagance." " But, Hester," I remonstrated, " such a work would require folios! It would take a lifetime to depict a Model Home." " Condense it, aunt : merely suggest the topics to be studied, and hint at what is needful. A word to the wise suffices." " But in many conversations at various times, with all of you young people, I think I have fairly unfolded my views of home, aad home-life." \ ' .it the family, self-sacrifi e ? aches us how ictity of the ionships with family. Men I Father." )f human life, This is our / that would : us exalt the 1 Hester, "to it lies very far ur view of a ^uest to prefer )osc to-day, if Harried to Dr. ur little town, ed and super- :es it. Grace Model Home. aii. Depict it lose a site, and ssity of saving, gance." would require I Home." ; to be studied, suffices." with all of you mv views of THE MODEL HOM^, -j- "iLct this paper then be an epitome of what you have said to us. Indeed, aunt, we are bound among ourselves to give you no peace until you gratify us, and then we intend to take the paper, have it printed, and aj hundred copies bound to suit our fancy, and distributed among ourselves, as a memento of our many pleasant conversations on home affairs. Therefore be- come an author in little in spite of yourself" With much fear and anxiety I addressed myself to my diaries, repositories of the thoughts of years, endeavoring to collate' certain views of the chief things which belong to a liome. And as the beginning of the home is in marriage, and marriage is an institution now often both openly and insidiously attacked by the children of riot and unrighteousness, I was about to open my :,ubjcct with some words of my own on that topic, when I found these remarks of the Bishop of Winchester, offered at a nuptial celebration, and them I transcribed: "The whole of human civilization has its rise, its origin, in marriage: th,.t which most distinguishes civilization from barbarism is the sacredness of the marriage tie and its indissolubility. The more sacred marriage is held by any people, the more certainly that people rises to a high condition of civilization. The mar- ried home is the type and the source of civil society. The home, the family, is the unit of civilized life. The home is also the type and the unit of the Christian church : only from the basis of the Christian family can we understand that great truth of the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of Christian man. No one can tell what the future may be passing into llw generations of a Christian household. Think for a momci«' what was the future of that home when Abraham married Sarah He knew not then what it would be, that in him should all tho families of the earth be blessed; yet all that sprang from that pne holy marriao'e " iVn(i n. w, my young friends, I trust that you hold these slmpl :.-'4 616 THE COMPLETE HOME. and sacred vi=:w3 of man age, and I behold you newly wedded, standing ..nx the t:iieshold of your future life. I would hava scarcely known of what next to speak to you, but looking in this spring day from my window, a pair of newly mated robins and a i-air of blue birds brought me counsel; they were nest- building! The robins were : a new home from the foundation. The blue birds had found a nest of some other year and were refitting it. I observed that they who built and they who repaired proceeded on the same general principles, and that the homes when ready for occupancy were nearly alike. This is a copy of human affairs, for some young couples build houses for themselves and others do the best they can with houses already built, but for both there are certain general sanitary and aesthetic principles to be observed. Nor is it unfit to set this house-building closely beside the thought of the emotional and spirit ial union of which we have just -poken, for the house in which the family lives has much to do with the health, happiness and perpetuity of the family ; it is as the husk to the kernel, and the nest to the bird, needful to the existence, and indicative of the nature, of the occupant. Now as the same general principles will hold good in building or remodelling a home, I v/iU suggest some of the points whii ;. are to be obser ^^d, as far as practicable, in building a comfortable house. Let the house stand on an elevation: this secures drainage, and prevents .o a great dcgre malana. ■: the house stands on rising land the cellar will generally bo dry ; and there can be no health in a house with a da: o cellar. I notice m:.ny farm- houses set close down der a hill for shelter from cold and vrinds. They had muc utt. le half-way or .>.; the way u[. the hill : the breeze is hea.uiful, but the mist hanging low in the hollow, in the morning, is deadly. If the soil ai uund the house is gravelly, and declines -ently on every hand, the position is THE MODEL HOME. 517 ly wedded^ vould have looking in atcd robins ' were nest-* 2 from the some other o built and , principles, learly alike. )uples build ;y can with ain general Nor is it thought of just 'poken/ do with the as the husk le existence, [d good in some of the , in building •es drainage, se stands on re can be no many farm- )ni cold and e way uj) the f low in the nd the house e position is enviable indeed. Not only will you have healthfulncss, easy drainage and a sightly position, but your sloping ground offers a fine opportunity for terracing, and a sodded terrace with shrubbery, occasional small beds of flowers, and grape arbors placed over the main path on each terrace, making a succession of green arcades, leave little to be desired in the surroundings of a comfortable middle-class home. On this elevation set your house, facing the southeast ; you will then have well- sunned rooms, summer coolness, winter protection, and escape damp walls and leaking chimneys. Let the house be rather high between joints: very /<7/?y ceilings might dwarf the apparent size of the rooms ana make them difficult to heat, but avoid low ceilings. Have windows judiciously placed so that the rooms can be well aired ; in bed-rooms, see to it that they are so set that the room can be thoroughly aired without a draught passing over the bed. Do not have too many doors in one room, and never have a room capable of only being entered through another. Let the bed-rooms be comfortably large ; have no nine-by-nine cubby-holes for sleeping apartments : crowd the parlor if you must, but let us, in bed-rooms, have space for breathing. Do not have bed-rooms on the ground-floor; it is ilways unhealthy to sleep on a first floor ; many cases of seem- ingly chronic ill-health ha\'e been cured by sending the patient into the third story. Be sure and do not put the kitchen in the basement or cellar : this makes too many steps for the house- wife ; too much heavy carrying for the maid« • the fumes of the cooking rise through the house and are driven back toward the furnace-cellar, and rise also with the heat. Il :.h • kitchen is beside the dining-room, do not have a door opening between them, but through a lobby; if dining-room and kitchen com- municate, the dining-room is apt to be 611ed with steam, smoke or flies, as the door is constantly opened, and the people at table get a view of the kitchen whenever the waiter passes in i Ml 'i':. i ifl 518 THE COMPLETE HOME. f or out. Be careful about the building of the chimneys : let them be curved rather than straight, and see that the draught- is good, for few things arc so destructive of family good temper, of punctuality, and of furniture, as smoking chimneys or fires that will not burn. Have plenty of closets. Some one says that " women especially appreciate the comfort and advantage of having plenty of these convenient receptacles for old clothes and dirt." Here is a very low idea of good housekeeping. All the closets in a house should be well cleaned quarterly : not a particle of dirt should accumulate in them to infect the air of the house with dust and stale smells. Old clothes should be promptly disposed of: those useful to be given away are owed to the needy ; those which are to make house and cleaning cloths should be ripped, washed, and folded in a box; those which are kept for rug or carpet making should be ripped and cut as soon as possible. Old clothes hanging about, or tucked into corners, fill a house with mouldy smells, moths and roaches, and encourage mice. Let every precaution possible be used in arranging flues to prevent houses catching fire ; let no stove-pipes pass through wooden floors unprotected by earthen thimbles, and iron or tin sheathing, and let no pipes or low chimneys be placed whera their sparks will lodge under a higher roof Let the cellar be dry, hard finished, with well -protected and lighted inside steps, outer steps, and windows fit for ventilating, and wire-screened to keep out animals. Have a large cistern, with a filter. No water, unless of a very good spring, is so healthful for drinking as filtered cistern water. The best fashion is to divide the cemented cistern perpendicularly into two halves, the partition being the filter ; let the water run in on one side, and the pump draw from the other. Both fuel and water should be obtainable without going from under shelter ; many a woman's life has been sacrificed by being forced to run, while heated, into tha THE MODEL HOME. imneys : lei he draught' ood temper, eys or fires le one says 1 advantage old clothes eping. All erly : not a t the air of 5 should be ly are owed nd cleaning box ; those ripped and t, or tucked ind roaches, ing flues to ass through iron or tin laced whera he cellar be inside steps, -screened to filter. No for drinking divide the he partition d the pump e obtainable an's life has ed, into tha 519 cold or rain for water or fuel. Every house should have provision for several open fires. In early spring or autumn these are both cheerful and healthful, and nothing, unless it be sunshine, is more beneficial in a sick-room. If the house is furnace-heated, these fires are still useful. Every furnace should get its air supply through tubes or boxes communicating with the outer air, not less than two or three feet above the surface of the ground : one does not wish to have the confined air of a cellar distributed over the house for breathing, nor to breathe air impregnated with the damp, vegetable, and insect decay of the earth's surface. Let the furnace also have a water-box which should not get dry so long as fires are kept up. If water is introduced into the house through lead pipes, great pains should be taken not to use the water which has stood in these pipes, as it has become poisonous : pipes should be lined with rubber. Never have a zinc-lined cistern, and do not allow water which has stood in a copper boiler to be used for any cooking purposes. City-plumbed houses, where there are ser- vants, demand a housewife's constant vigilance to prevent the slow poisoning of her family in such ways as these. Extreme care should be used in cleansing all sinks and waste pipes: con- centrated lye water, sal-soda water and ammonia water are all good, while too much praise can hardly be bestowed on potash, a strong, hot solution of which will destroy all hair, animal mat- ter, vegetable decay and grease, and so save us the visitations of fevers and plumbers. Every house should have at least two main stair-ways. As to the colors in interior finishing of a house, be sure and avoid glaring white walls, a'^ iliey are bad for the eyes. Where rooms are whitewashed, the: walls must be relieved by pictures, branches of green leaves and soft-colored draperies. Kitchens' should have dark paint or dark graining. For halls and lobbies nothing is better than dark walnut, either the wood or walnut 520 THE COMPLETE HOME. '\ n I Ml coloring, relieved by gilt mouldings. When pictures are to be hung on the walls the paper or wall-painting should be in sub- dued colors and without marked patterns. The ceilings arc most favorable to the eye and harmonious which imitate Nature's hues for depth and distance, and appear in faint blues and grays. Where no pictures are to be used, the wall-papers can be largely figured, and walls of halls and large rooms can be beautifully papered in panels of landscapes or pictures of statuar)'. A narrow gilt moulding at the ceiling and one three ieet from the floor favorably break the monctony of a wall. A solid or chiefly green paper is to be avoided, as it is usually poisonous, but deep maroons are rich, durable and harmonize with various stylos of furnishing. Grainings and dark paints or stainings save time in cleaning, needing only to be wiped with a sponge, moistened in weak ammonia water, and suit many rooms. For a parlor, cream or silve; -gray papers, with delicate gold figures, are very pretty. Some rooms look well, papered in columns and cornices, with medallions in the space.s. Choose paint and paper to suit the size, lighting and use of the room. It adds to the beauty and variety of a house to have something distinctive in the color of different rooms, as one in red, one in blue, one in gray, or in green— but here you must be chary for fear of arsenical poisoning ; rose-color and buff are also choice shades for bed-rooms. Wall-papers can be cleaned by dusting thoroughly with a soft cloth, and then rubbing downwards in a long, straight, light rub with a piece of stale bread ; do not rub hard nor crooked-wise. If you boil zvhitcivash, adding to every two gallons while hot one tablespoon ground alum, one-half pint flour pa.stc, one-half pound glue, the wash will be nearly a» firm and shining as paint, while it can be tinted with inditjo, ochre, or lampblack, or red, to give you sky-blue, drab or buff walls. Concerning furniture I have so lately spoken, tnat it is needless to say more on a subject so largely to be governed by ires are to be Id be in sub- ceilings arc hich imitate in faint blues e wall-papers ;c rooms can r pictures of ,nd one three 3f a wall. A it is usually id harmonize lark paints or wiped with a d suit many with delicate }ll, papered in ices. Choo.se of the room, ivc something in red, one in I be chary for re also choice ed by du9tin|.j iwn wards in a d ; do not rub Jding to every lum, one-half II be nearly as d with indigo, >, drab or buff )ken, tnat it is c governed by r/r£ MODEL HOME. ^21 each householder's taste and means. Let the furniture be suited to its use, solidly good in quality, subdued rather than loud in taste, and ^uch as will give a home-like look to ycur apartments. Let there be careful avoidance of superfluity or sparseness. Do not have everything in the home bought: it savors too much of the shop and too little of human interests • tooks too much like a hotel. Have little ornamental and useful things made by your own hands: they will indicate that the dwelling has an animating and interested soul. If you are unfort- unately without an eye for colors, take counsel in furnishing of some friend who has taste in this direction, for a discord in color will strike some of your guests as harshly and painfully as a discord in music. Do not fear that you will betray bad taste by a decisive color. Some people fear to indulge in a line of red or orange or pure yellow, as if it were a sin : remember that these colors came to us from the Great Artist, that he has put peculiar honor upon them, inasmuch as the sunlight is golden and the morning and evening skies are freely painted in reds. Ruskin calls red pure color. Sometimes all that a doleful-looking room needs to correct it is a fragment of scarlet or clear yellow. Now set this commodious, neat, convenient and tasteful house in its proper grounds ; givi: attention to keeping these grounds neatly. Have flowers, and not too many of them to look like a florist's; have shrubs flowering and foliage shrubs, but do not crowd ; have trees, but not too shady ; have plenty of grass, smoothly shaven, closely sown and re-sown, until it grows like velvet. Do not forget to have patches of myrtle ami of blue violets in nooks where they may " run out the grass," and be as lovely as they please ; have vines, for nothing is more delicious than a fragrant honeysuckle or jasmine ; nothing is more gor- gcous in autumn than a \/oodbinc, and nothing is more health, giviucj than a plenty of grapes. If there is room, cultivate •mall fruits, for they add to the hoalthfulness of a family; Hi I I'liH r :| 1 r mm i 822 T/fE COMPLETE HOME. Now, into this beautiful and well-surrounded home we must invite those virtues which are the true Lares and Penates of a dwelling. First, we must call in Order, for where Order is lacking, comfort and beauty and their attendant train, and often love, will fly out of the window. Order will secure the saving of time, the saving of strength, prevent the rapid wasting or Wearing out of house or furnishings, and preserve a healthful atmosphere, inspiriting to the family and inviting to guests. But Order alone might be cold, and carried to the extreme of being forbidden. Let us secure the gracious presence of Beauty. The love of Beauty is in the human soul a reflection of the mind of God. Truly, He is a right kingly lover of Beauty, who could not let even a beetle go from his creating hand without polishing and spotting its wings ; who paints admirably, not only the flowers of the field, but the fishes of the sea, the crabs crawling on the shore, and the reptiles burrowing in wood ?^\^ wa'l. If we deny our homes of beauty, we deny - 'hat would be inspiriting and refining to our- selves, and we bLi€\vf m^c .ildrcn of their natural inheritance. Beauty makes homes . ar to their occupants, it softens the asperities of life, and binds in mutual tastes and mutual pleasures the members of a family. Yet the pursuit of Beauty must not lead us into extravagance. We must invoice Economy to preside in our homes. Extrava- gance is one of the crying evils of the age : it provokes to envy, emulation, hatred, dishonesty ; it has shaken the whole fabric of society, and the faith of nations. Where one man sins in penuriousncss, ten sin in extravagance. It is a sin of sel- fishness and of deceit. The extravagance of tiie age has ruined homes already established, and hindered the cstabli.sh- mcnt of others. People become too .selfish, or too timid to mj^rr". If n.'onlo do not need to practise Economy for their own .sakes, they must practise it for the sake of their children. THE MODEL HOME. 523 liome we must d Penates of a 'here Order is :rain, and often urc the saving lid wasting or -ve a healthful to guests, o the extreme IS presence ot" oul a reflection ingly lover of m his creating 3 ; who paints t the fishes of d the reptiles our homes of efining to our- •al inheritance, it softens the s and mutual ) extravagance, ncs. E.xtrava' it provokes to ken the whole c one man sins > a sin of sel- the age has the cstablish- r too timid to n.omy for their their children. of the community, and of their servants, and for the enlarge « ment of their charities. Guarding against meanness, they must unite liberality with a wise Economy. Economy is the virtue which preserves. There must be yoked with it the virtue which creates. Let us invite into our hou.sc' holds, I.NDUSTRV. Accustomed to Industry, little time is left fr.r contention, for vice, or for destructivencss. Let parents con- sider their families : if they have a child who is always busy, that child is peaceable, contented, breaks out into no disorders, destroys no property. What is true of the individual will be true of the whole family; what is true of the family will be true of the community, and of the state. It is the Industry wedded to the Economy of France, which, in dire disasters as great as ever shook a nation, has maintained her credit, and has prevented her being bankrupted, and parcelled out among the nations. A habit of Industry secures the future of our children. Wealth may fly: indeed, it seems to grow wings with wonderful facility; but Industry is a perpetual inheritance. Industry maintains the Home. This Industry should be honest and wisely directed : this can be secured only by development of the mind and the reasoning faculties; the hand must be guided by the brain; therefore, in our Home we must cultivate Education. Education in a home is like a fountain of living waters. Education is constantly bringing forth something new and attractive ; its ordinary tendency is to prevent extravagance and crime. It makes a person happy in himself; preserves him from constantly being cast on others for advice or entertainment ; it refines away the roughnesses of natural disposition, opens to u.s opportunities of accomplishing things useful and praiseworthy; it fills usefully leisure time, binds a family in common interests and pursuits, secures cheerful content even in the midst of poverty, d'sappointment, or ill hc-ilth. 11 ; natural tendency of Education is to impress upon a man THE COMPLETE HOME. that he is one of many ; that, not beir.g in the state of savage nature, he cannot say that he is independent of his fellows, nor that they aro independent of him. He recognizes that he owes duties to his race. The recognition of these duties, the realiz- ation of his wide relationships to his kind, reveal to him the duty of extending Hospitality. Here is a rare Home virtue, by which the happy Home becomes as a city set on a hill, which cannot be hid. By exercise of this virtue the Home makes broad its gates, enlarges its sphere, and increases its bene- factions : " Till, like a ray of light .across the land, The heart's large love goes, brightening more and more." As, in speaking of Industry and Education in the Home, wc might refer to the parable of the entrusted talents, and the inquiry made after their use, so in regat*d to the exercise of Hospitality wc may refer to that panorama of the judgment when we see the Judge seated on his throne, and hear him say: " I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat ; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink ; I was a stranger, and ye took me in ; naked, and ye clothed mc ; I was sick, and ye visited me ; in prison, and ye came to mc." Here, in Hospitality, the one jewel home is fitly set with others of its kind, crown jewels of the King. Closely linked with the exercise of Hospitality is that grace of Courtesy, without which Hospitality would be but poorly exhibited. Let us in our Model Home exhibit Coumnsv; this grace has well been called " the flower of flowers." This Courtesy fills the Home like a soft pervasive music ; to its tender notes the joys and cares of domestic life move gently on, the one prevented from jarring the other, and concord is developed from the whole. This Courtesy is the very essence of the Fifth Commandment; it rises out of our brotherhood under one r'atherj God= It passes ox\ froni pa'*cnts to ch.ildrcn and servants, to the stranger within our pates, and gives to each hi» due, as " superior, inferior, or equal." le state of savage Df his fellows, nor lizcs that he owes duties, the realiz- al to him the duty Home virtue, by t on a hill, which the Home makes creases its bene- and more." in the Home, wc talents, and the the exercise of of the judgment .nd hear him say : 1 was thirsty, and lok me in ; naked, Tie ; in prison, and rjc jewel home is f the King. dity is that grace lid be but poorly it CouRTnsv : this s." This Courtesy J its tender notes jntly on, the one is developed from :nce of the Fifth rhood under one to children and gives to each hi» THE MODEL HOME. 523 Without this genial, chivalric virtue, there would be but little exercise of the grace of Friendship, and this brings us to the thought that in our homes we should cherish Friendship, This grace expands the soul, it leads us out of selfishness, and a narrow round of thought, to sympathize with other hearts which have their own circle of attachments and duties ; and thus, one to another, men are linked in kindness throughout the world. As, in the family, ages and temperaments vary, so the choice of friends will vary : the child has its inseparable play- mate, the yorth a chosen companion; the hearts which have experienced and suffered much find an affinity with souls of like experiences. Thus by friendships, while each member of the Family brings into the household interest and sympathy the comrade of his especial preference, the circle of Home interest and outlook is widened ; these friendships constantly re-vivify the life of Home by bringing into it new elements, and giving to it new points of observation and contact with the bu.sy world. Now how shall these exterior claims be made to harmonize with the v.orld within ? How shall the duties of Courtesy, and of Friendship, and Hospitality, be performed without robbing any of the household of their rights ? The demands of the Home alone are myriad, and what shall be done with this oute: myriad of flocking cares ? There is but one way in which we obtain time for all, doing these, and not leaving the other undone, and that way is to have in our work an unimpeachable Methoo. Not only must wc have Order, regular succession in duties, a time and a place for all things, but we must discern between the right and the wrong way >'" doing all things ; and selecting for each Juty the very best method of performing it, we shall have discovered a time and strength-saver which shall give us leisure for all things. We tnu.st sweep u room by law, and then we shall have time for ethics. This beautiful Method we must extend to the hand' M Wk S28 THE COMPLETE HOME. P ling of the Family Revenues, and each month's expendrtures and reserves should show a handsome piece of domestic finan- ciering. Neither mean nor lavish, turning money ever toward its noblest uses, so that instead of our dollars being a gilded chain to draw us down to hell, they are golden rounds of a lad- der whereby we climb toward Heaven ; we shall find in lives enriched by liberality, lives honest and of good report, beautiful with art, graced with literature, expanded in benevolence, that we have solved the mightiest problem of being, and while inca- pable of carrying our valuables out of this v/orld zvitlr us, we have forestalled the hour of severance from earthly things, and have sent our treasures on before us, to be laid up for our coming in the safe-keeping of Heaven. Happy he over whom the daisies write the eulogy: " How many a poor one's blessing went With thee beneath the low green tent, Whose curtain never outward swings ! " And just at this point, when we consider how much of the funds of a Family arc, in one way or another, paid out to em- ployes, we are led to think of another Virtue of the Home — faitltfiilness to our domestics. We owe those whom we employ something more than their wages ; we owe them human sym- pathy, interest in their personal affairs and well-being. In the servant we behold a fellow-toiler on that highway of life which is hard enough and dangerous enough at best ; if we can warn of a danger, remove an obstruction, give a direction, show a resting-place, then just so far we arc his keeper and responsible for his getting safely to the end of his route. The hired help is a very important part of the family, holding in his keeping a large share of the family comfort and success, and it depends very greatly on ourselves whether he shall be a real help, or a terrible hindrance. In fret, In the Family, UNlxy must bind m together as a whole; the individuals must not be parcelled out, THE MODEL HOME. ith's expendrtures af domestic finan- loney ever toward irs being a gilded I rounds of a lad- hall find in lives d report, beautiful benevolence, that J, and while inca- i xviili- us, we have things, and have "or our coming in whom the daisies 527 how much of the paid out to em- ^ of the Home — vhom we employ em human sym- :ll-bcing. In the kvay of life which ; if we can warn direction, show a r and responsible The hired help is in his keeping a , and it depends ! a real help, or a iry must bind us bu parcelled out, a.we.gh.ng to see how much less of hearty affection may b; dealt out to one who holds neither the pre-eminence of the eldest chdd nor the petted position of the youngest; to this one who s only the stray waif o^ another family drifted into our Home • to th.s one who is the step-mother, or the old grandparent, o; he ma:den aunt; to this one who is but the hireling: but rather let us steem love, unity in the family, as the heart's choicest gold, wh.ch we protect against loss, to which we daily add like preaous grains, which we polish and refine, knowing it to be that winch is in itself indestructible, and which can n.ake us rich mdeed. And how important is this maintaining of har- mony-th.s giving to each heart its tender due! Wlien we remember, that one by one these linked lives must be separated, that the Famdy Circle shall be broken, that the hearthstone and the board shall show vacant places, that those whom we love shall shp out of our sight, beyond our hand-clasping, out of tne range of our voices, let them not go defrauded of our love pamed by our neglect: but dowered well with our richest affec' t.ons, our lives with them projected into the future, and already shanng their immortal state, even for us who remain death shall have lost its sting and life shall have gotten the victory. How smgs the poet : "O brother! only T ami thou Are loft of all that circle now- The dear home faces wliereuoon The fitful firelight paid ane rude shocks of life, and become master of its own future ' -he host of children k to come up as they will, to tempt in follv and fault, the ruin of their forces, is no boon to a state • the children, who will be to the world a gift worth its having nn.st be worthy in themselves, and worth is an affair of cultivation Every family should behold in its children the norm of the church and of the state: the inheritors and creators of the future Every age must cradle its own kings, conquerors, saints and philanthropists. The Home is the true "Tree of Universal Nature," which the Northern races celebrate : its roots extend through all the world and through all time, and it shall abide the last conflict, and live serene in a new heaven and a new earth. To shield and provide for this home, to bulwark it from foes without, to maintain its place in the world, is man's work— the work of the husband and father; and this work should ennoble him to himself, and make him strong against tempta- tion, and eager in every way to fit himself to be a worthy guar- dian of what is so precious. He should feel that he attains his fullest and best development, and best justifies his living, in the happy exercise of family duties and relations: here lie his finest possibilities. To build up and guide the home within, to admin- ister its resources, to create within happiness, affection, honor, is woman's part. Infinite indeed is the folly of that woman wlio depreciates or permits the weakening of this her kingdom, \Ahcre she makes her best conquests, and secures her most beautiful rewards. That is a more than suicidal rashness which would V V] o^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 m I.I 1^ ^ us, Li 12.5 2.2 2.0 11.25 U 111.6 T-%1 niuiugrdpiiic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14SS0 (716) e72-4S03 n h :/- y. fc ^ 582 THE COMPLETE HOME. y i yield that vantage-ground of Home, whence woman has -been able to move and mould a world. It is a sphere which, on the one hand, is as wide ?s the world, and on the other is a calm and assured retreat, where one can sit down, and be at peace Enter, then, O man and woman, into this heritage which God himself has given you ; you set up this abode at the gateway of immortal life ; you bring into it all that is best of your pos- sessions ; you strive here to develop all that is best in your- selves. And we, who stand by and rejoice in this erection of a Ne.vr Home, behold in letters of light this scripture written over your doorway: " Now, therefore, let it please thee to bless the house of thy servant, that it may be before thee forever ; for thou blessest, O Lord, and it shall be blessed forever." It was in the above simple little paper on the Model Home — a paper expressing my most earnest feelings on my favorite subject — that for the only time in my life I became an author ; for my too-indulgent young friends and relatives fulfilled their plan of having it printed for their own private use and posses^ sion, and whether or not in itself particularly valuable, I trust they will find it precious, because it embodies for them some of the best wishes of their Aunt Sophronia. W w I;, \\\ A 11 ! woman has .been )here which, on the he other is a calm 1, and be at peace critage which God )de at the gateway s best of your pos- it is best in your- n this erection of a 5 scripture written Dlcase thee to bless •e thee forever ; for forever." the Model Home — gs on my favorite became an author ; tives fulfilled their te use and posses- ly valuable, I trust for them some of UNT SOPHRONIA. CHAPTER XXII, VALUABLE HOME KNOWLEDGE. FROM AUNT SOPHRONIA's SCRAP-BOOK. making Soups for a family, nice bones, the trimmings and fragments of meat, and a variety of surplus vegetables, can be used to advantage, without purchasing new material. So'ips should be cooked in a stone pot, or a china-lined kettle. They should be cooked slowly, but for four or five hours; skimming them carefully. Strain through a coarse colander. Serve with bits of toasted bread, chopped egg and parsley, catsup, and grated cheese. Ml-rpiiv Soup.— Pare and chop fine six good-sized potatoes; i)ut them in a kettle with about tl"cc pints of water; se.ison with hmicr, jicppcr and salt; boil until just tender, not soft. Just before serving, l)reak into it three or four raw eggs, stirring briskly to l)reak the eggs before they cook. Calk's lli:.\n Soup.— Take a skinned head, one set of feet well-cleaned, put into a pot and cover with water; let it boil until all the bones Till from it (about four hours); then take out the head and feel, chop very fine and put it back into the pot with sweet niarjoram, cloves and black pepper to your taste ; add to this, about fifteen minutes before taking from the fire, some forced me.it-balls; should the soup be too thin, add a little flour and butler rubbed together; when done, have ready in the tureen two eggs, boiled hard and chopped fine, one teacup of water, and lemon sliced ; ])(uir the soup over them. ECONO.M11AL Vkai, Soup.— Doil a piece of veal, suit.ible for a fric.issee, pie or h.wh. When lenuer take the meat up and slip out ilie bones; put these Imek into the kelllo and boil I ,x two hours. Then strain the liquor and stand away until the next d.iy. When wanted, take olT the fat, put the soup i;iio a clean pot, add pepper, «alt, an onion, a half teacupful of rice, a lablespoonful of flour mixed in cold water, and slices of potatoes. Doil thirty minntcs and serve hot. Freni-II Soi,p.— Clean nicely a sheep's head and put it in four quarts of Iwiling wate.-, which reduce to two (luails; add one small cup of peail barley, six large onions cut up fine, one sliced carrot, one sliced turnip, a few cloves, a bunch of iweet herb-i, jiopper, salt and a little catsup of any ! ind. Cook one hour longer s.ut R.-,:,;!ig r,!l mgrediriits. Sifairi a!! off, cut the hc.id into the soitp and kcrvd very hot. Mu. Gomez's Pea Soup.— Put the i)eai into water and boil about two hounj (533) m 634 THE COMPLETE HOME. strain and put on fire ; add vegetables (not cabbage) and fry half an onian to « crisp brown ; small piece of ham ; fry toasted bread and add in small bits. Scotch Broth. — Take half teacup barley; four quarts cold water; bring to the boil and sis, and stew the steak very gently for about throe hours. A rpiarler of an hour before you serve, stir into the gravy two or three iia- spoonfuls of rice flmir, mixed with cayenne, half a wineglassful of mushioom catraip and a little seasoning of spice. IIf.ek I.oak. — One and one-half pounds of beefsteak chopped very fine, and free from gri'^lle; two cups of rolled crackers (fine), one cup of cold water, one-half CUf of bulter, salt and ])epper to suit the taste, bake till duns. VALUABLE HOME KNOWLEDGE. 635 I fry half an onion to a d in small bits. :old water ; bring to the for half an hour; skim Te onion, one small head II these fine ; add your s to cook. ithes of celery, using ihe in onion cut into slices, a colander, season with ecupful of boiling milk, ce into the tureen. A few bits of fried bread iition, I GAME. of rump steak, lemon, It ten minutes. Take a [lut it on a board ; chop nuice of butter and nii.\ and salt (according to small pat ; t.d hot. Miss Dods' Way of BoIMNO Flsll.— The lecturer fir-l plunged the fish (' ':.\n\i\ into boiling w.ater, remarking that small fish shoul.l be first phmged into col, N,„er. She then put into the water a jiinch of sail and a tablcspoonfiil of vinegar. " In boiling the fish," said the lecturer, " it ilepends on its thickness as to llie lime it should lie boiled. The instant the fish slips from the bone it is ready. Wliile il ia - ' ■' — ' ■ •'— -- '•"^ ~'UoU3 looK two iioiieu cg'4s, 3 dcsserlspooidul of parsley, an ounce of bulter, half an ounce of flour, n y\\\ of ■ milk, a gill of cream and a little pepper and salt. The dry parsley was then choppeU '! I. ' t 636 Tim COMPLETE HOME. fine. The eggs were boiled for ten minutes and thrown into cold water. The yolks were then removed and cat into halves. " The sauce is really drawn butter " remarked the lectu'-er. * Fowls or meats when boiled should always be put into boiling water— not cold, unless the purpose is to make soup— and they should boil very slowly; hard boiling makes them tough, and putting into cold water makes them tasteless. Ragout of TuRKEV.-Cut the cold turkey that is left over from a roast, or boil iHlo bits an inch long; put into a saucepan the gravy left from the roast, adding a httle water if the quantity be small; add a tablcspoonful of butter, a teaspoonful of some pungent sauce, half ^ teaspoonful of cloves, a little grated nutmeg and a little salt; when it boils up put in the meat; stew very gently for ten minxes, and then stir in a tablcspoonful of cranberry or currant jcily, a teaspoonful of browned flour wet m a little cold water and a wineglassful of strong lemonade; boil up once and serve in a covered dish. A ragout without spice, jelly or wine is generally preferred. Stewed Turkey.— An old turkey is more tender stewed than when cooked in any other way. Put into a large pot half a pound of bacon cut in slices, a quarter of a pound of knuckle of veal, three sprigs of parsley, two of thyme, >^ix small onions, one cirrot cut in sm.ill pieces, three cloves, salt and pepper, and then the turkey; add a pint e.ich of broth and w.ater; cover as closely as possible, and simmer gently about two hours and a half; then turn the turkey over and put it back on the fire for another two hours and a half; dish the turkey; strain the sauce; put it back on the fire, ami after reducing it to a glaze spread it over the tuikey and serve. .Some prefer stewed turkey when told. CmcKE.N I'UDniNc:.-Cut up as for fric.issee and parboil, seasoning well wiih pepper, salt and a lump of butter, size of an egg to each chicken. The fowl should be young and tender, aiul divided at every joint. .Stew slowly fi,r half an hour- take them out, and 1,-iy ihem on a fl.it dish to cool ; set aside the water in which ihey were slewed for your gravy. Make a batter of one quart of milk, three cups flour three tablespoons melted l)ut[er, one-half teaspoon soda and one spoonful cieam' taibr, four eggs, well beaten, and a little salt. I'ut a Layer of chicken in the bottom of the dish, and |)our about one-half cupful of batter over it, enough to conceal the meat; then another layer of chicken and more batter till the di^h is fidl. The batter must form the crust, li.ike one hour in a moderate oven. Ueat up an egg and stir it in the gravy which was set aside. Thicken with two teaspoons flour, boil up and send to table in a gravy dish. 11ROII.KI) l"ARTRli)<;E.-If the birds are tender, split them open at the back and broil whole; but if not young, use only the breasts for broiling, reserving the other portions for c slew, or to help toward making a game pie. Use as little water as possible in cleansing game; many use none «t all, thinking that by the use of water the blood, and, conscpiently, the flavor, is washed aw.iy and the meat left dry and tasteless. Dip the porlions to be liroiled in melted butter, and broil over a steady ire of live r;.;:!.;, tiiniir,;; ,,fien, atu! har.iing in the hot bullci once or iwice during the cooking, lie careful not to cook them overdone. Place on a hot platter/ cold water. The eally drawn butter," put into boiling -and they siiould md putting into rom a roast, or boil the roast, adding a ler, a teaspooiiful of nutmeg and a little minutes, and then il of browned flour ade; boil up once, jr wine is generally an when cooked in in slices, a quarter f thyme, fix small pper, and then the y as possible, and key over and put it f, strain the sauce; iver the turkey and easoning well with The fowl should f for half an hour; I'ater in which they k, three (•u|>s flour, ne spoonful cream cken in the bottom ugh to conceal the dish is full. The . Beat up an egg o teaspoons flour, in nt the hack and escrving the other as little water as y the Use of water meat kfi tlry and )r(iil over a steady e or twice during on a hot platter/ VALUABLE HOME KNOWLEDGE. go- sprinkle pepper and salt and pour a little melted butter over each ni,>r. . ,>. . .he surface lightly with chopped parsley and arrange a few si so Tern T p.eces. i;arn,sh the edges of the dish with triangle ob" J '" '' spoonfuls of currant jelly; or place the toast und he b .ds and " V f! """ and j^ly on .„„ ,r them. For breakfast fried mush nrayl uh L ed ft' T" and a border of shoo-fly or Saratoga potatoes around the dish "" '""'' Salmi of Wild Duck.— First, partly roast the dud- • r,,^ ;,' • . • • put refuse bits of fat or skin into 'a'^.auc'epan with 1 c^^ 'g a" "C^" 'r "^ in butter; pepper and salt to taste, a pinch of cloves and nuS'n ? "* and sage chopped fine. Boi, one hour, .skim when o" ttn to ^'^ """^*"''"" w.th a p.ece of butter the si.e of a walnut; thicken with rlwed flour ,7^'.'"'; afewmmutes; put in the pieces of duck, after which it mu t noM . , saucepan should he placed in a dish of boiling water .IXeadt ' \ ' " ^2^cr r -ihi'g^-^:; - - ' ^- -S-z ::;^ and a spoonful of .urrant jelly on each qu'aiUnd serve immedia^JC In frying meat or fowl, always put it into a hot pan, where the fat IS already very hot. FISH. Roasted Codfish.— For roasiinir take a smnll r,»=K j , the head and tail. Split the fish c le\n It we ' , "'''.""" " *^"- C"' ^^ some cayenne and a lit'tle fine s. , ' Z. la, « t'h T't " ?'""' ^''""^'*^ ^^'"^ or a little larger, than will hold .he frs :;e 'ou ^ "tZx I 'T '^"""«'' a clear, hot fire till the whole niece of nl nt \ "'' "'' ""^ ''"•^«' '^^■'■"'■« take care not to allow it to catch f^e Th' ","'"' •'"'' ="'""^' '^•'"-'' = '"" to the board with four sp ,,!;,• J^;' ^r^'' -"he fish evenly and tack it Place the insi.le of the coS „ex hi fi . "' *° '"^ ^""'^"^ ^"^^" ""' "R^i"- has been well heate wi o k U h I . " '"•^' ""' "'"^ ''°--'^^'' -"ich, if it oughly done take it up l" 1 1 !l - '^'""'' " "'"" '"' "" "'^' " '^ "•"»• the board, the ends of' wi:,;': ri:: /[IVl';:''- '^"' ' '° '"^ '"'"^ "" «ort. to prevent injury ,o the cLh T,r i^^'"*^'' "''""''''''"« ''^ '''^^^ li.tle butter an.l cayenne only Th U" . *''"'' '"'' °^ '"'^''■^■^"«- "^ ^^'''h « . rresh shad in J.^Z^^ .ij: ^ ^^IT "^7'' T''^ ^""^'"« at the furnishing stores. ' ^''^hhoards can be obtained or ":;:;;:;: ''"r:;";;;';:;::!.;!;;:; -- very appet^ng when boned ,ike salmo„ thefi>h: «Hd a teaslj ;:;;;. :'",T' '"'" '^"""«' »--""« -"ter to eve, -rawn butter gravs' Z "/, " '°'' '•/ '''""'y'"' ""■"»'-• Serve with , p-ng the biin i-i ri^: :7:r"L;^^r;L;^':::--"" ^'i"-' '- ^::d ab^^'r ^z ^ """ '" ''' -'-' - ^^- -^'^c li ':z^z im 538 THE COMPLETE HOME. Boston Fish Balls. — Half a pound cold fish, three ounces suet, shred fine, x «niall lump of butter, a teacupful of bread crumbs, pepper, salt and nutmeg, and two teaspoonfuls of anchovy sauce. Pound all together in a mortar, mix with an egg, divide into small c.ikes and fry them a little brown. Frieu Oysters. — Select the largest and finest oysters. Have ready a skillet of boiling lard. Dip your oysters, one at a time, in beaten yolk of egg, then in grated bread crumbs, lastly in sifted meal and then drop into the lard. Turn, and allow them to become only slightly browned. Drain upon a sieve and send to table hot. Stewed Oysters. — Drain the liquor from two quarts of firm, plump oysters, mix with it a small teacup of hot water, add a little salt and pepper, and set over the fire in a saucepan. When it boils, add a large cupful of rich milk. Let it boil up once, •idd the oysters, let them boil five minutes. When they ruffle, add two tablespoons butter, and the instant it is melted, and well stirred in, take off the fire. Oysti'.r Macaroni. — Boil macaroni in a cloth to keep it straight. Put a layer in a dish seasoned with butter, salt and pepper, then a layer of oysters; alternate until the dish is full. Mix some grated bread with a beaten egg, spread over the top and bake. Oyster Patties. — Make puff paste in this way: To every pound of flour add three-quarters of a pound of butler, the yolk of one egg; use ice-cold water; chop half the butter into the flour, then stir in the egg; work all into a dough; roll but thin; spread on some of the butter, fold closely (butter side in) and roll again; do this until the butter is all used up; keep the paste in a cold place while you prepare the oysters. Set the oysters on the stove in a saucepan, with liquid enough to cover them; as soon as they come to a boil skim them; slir in a little butter and pepper; also, if desired, a little cream. Line your small tins with youi paste ; put three or , four oysters in each, add a little of the liquor, then cover with paste; bake in a quick oven twenty minutes ; while hot wash ov^r the top with a beaten egg, using a swab or brush, and set in the oven a minute or two to glaze. Oysters may be more plainly fried, by merely rolling them well in corn meal and laying them in the hot fat. Do not let them lie long in the frying-pan. When clams are fried, the hard portion should be thrown away, as it is indigestible. Fish should be cooked slowly and thoroughly : it is clone when it parts readily from the bone. Salt fish should be well washed in one water and put to soak, skin upWixrds, in a second water. Fish and oysters should always be dressed with parsley and hard-boiler! eggs chopped fine. ^1 boiled, serve dry, laid on a folded napkin, thi sauce being in a sauce-boat. If fried, take care to have a nice, even brown, with no burned and no white spots. VEGETABLES. Potatoes. — A common dish for common people many think, especially if cooked mipcfictl. Not if you ?'.rir,w h-w to o-.--k th<-ni, Msny p.enple hnil them in ?. great pnt of water, and then let thrm stand in that w-iter after they are cooked. Always ■■■■■H i suet, shred fine, s ; and nutmeg, and nortar, mix with an e ready a skillet of egg, then in grated . Turn, and allow 1 send to table hot. plump oysters, mix and set over the fire Let it boil up once, idd two tablespoons he fire. ght. Put a layer in ;ers ; alternate until ad over the top and pound of flour add e-cold water; chop ) a dough ; roll but d roll again ; do this lile you prepare the d enough to cover butter and pepper ; paste ; put three or , h paste ; bake in a a beaten egg, using ing them well in let them lie long ortion should be loked slowly and : bone. Salt fish skin upiuanls, in be dressed with i, serve dry, laid . If fried, take 1 no white spots. especially if cooked hnil them in a gr'.'at re cooked. Alwap VALUABLE HOME KNOWLEDGE. Kor Jry to have potatoes of uniform size, cut out any rough places made by moles or worms place them m a pot and merely cover with water- keen the li,l , , , , the. stop boiling. Boil fifteen^r twenty minu't::: u'^irio CTff t^t^ s::t3-s:ir:aS '° ^^^— ----- ^^ would test its virtues. Of course, we were ple.se I to .!i ' '• ' """ housekee,ng treasure ho. and so listened ^th ^Int^l ii::;^,:::r .^ Z formula of the new discovery, and this was the way of it • Trim V , ! cabbage, cut in half and put it to cook in cold w.te 1,! i ' :, ^ '""''"""";"' pour ofif the water and refill with iK-ilin; v^ /om . i''^ minutes lon^r, then take the cabb.ge l^m .U. IZ^XJ^^^r^l^Zl eason U wuh pepper, salt and butter, to taste. Beat together tvo fr 4 Z a^d' four spoonfuls of sweet cream, add them to the seasoned catl.nge and s.ir ai o^eth . Butter a pudd„,g.d.sh and put the cal,bage in and bake in a wjl-heated ove Uwentv minutes, or untd it is browned over the top. * ^ Fried CAnnACE.-Cut obbage very fine, on a slaw-cutter, if possible- salt and pepper s.,r well and let stand five minutes. , Have an iron k^t.e smoli g' hit dp send to table immediately. One-half cup sweet cream, and tbree tablespoons viV egar the vinegar to be added after the cream h..s been well stirred, < t 4 s eat It, and there IS no ofl-ensive odor from cooking it >val.a can COOK.NC OMONS -The best way we have foun'd to cook onions is to put them io b U in soft water, letting them boll briskly till tender. Have ready heate 1 a cup o sweet cream seasoned with butter, pepper and salt; dip the on Ins Aonr Se .bug water into the heated cream, taking ca^e that as mucl of the wate. in v^h ch I y were cooked shall drain out as possilv ..fore putting into the creamrthen 0;:.'; t,?e"r;"""^' '"; ""^^•^^"■'" ■■ ''— ^eteathsofuilyaswhe; cook d M, the usual way, and are not as liable .0 rise on the stoma.h. In taking he sUius o^ stand by an open window or door, and there will be no cau.e .0 tears to now. as the ctirrent of air in passing takes the pungent odor of the onion with it. hu g,v,ng relief to the eye. For medium-sized onions allow one hour's time f.^ \t\j' 'Kin i', HoTKL I'oN,.;.s._Take one pint of fine Indian meal and on-, pint of milk- melt one tablespoonful of butter ami add ,0 it ; beat two eggs very l.gln ; one ,easp;o:W . tJtat all hard and bake in a quick oven. Cakrots roR D,NNER._VVash. scrape, let lie in cold w.ater for an hour or more, the,. b,nl until tender ; dnin, mash, season with a good-sized piece of butter; peppe, and salt and serve very hot. > f fl^' iru.., Ku CORN.-Take white corn, if you can get it; none but plump corn ; shell «na bod It in we.ak lye until the hull is broken ; then clean offthe lye, fill the kettle. or turn the corn into a dish-nan: take yo„r h.nds and rub the corn well; wash in sever.) waters (ihe ol.l w.ay is nine times, but six will do); then clean your kettle ana return to .he stove; put in plenty of water and boil until very tender, which ■'■'«i # "I a 540 THE COMPLETE HOME. usually takes almost the entire day. As the water boils away add more. It H better to add hot water than cold. To lioiL Rice Propkrly. — To every cup of ric^ one quark of water; salt to laste. Let the water boil hard ; then throw in rice previously well washed ; when it begins to boil do not allow it to be stirred, and boil twenty minutes, not touching it; pour off any water remaining; place the saucepan on back of range, partially covered, for a few minutes; when turned out into the dish for the table each grain will be found separate. The rice should steam on back of range until it appears dry on top, then shaken out into the dish, not removed with the si)oon. Barley is a cheap, palatable, wholesome addition to our bill of fare. Boil it three or four hours, in a china-lined or new tin vessel ; serve with milk and sugar, or r;ierely salted to eat with gravy. Cold boiled b.irley is excellent rolled with flour into croquettes and fried. Bean Polenta. — Wash common white beans, put them into cold water and let them boil about three hours, until soft and meal^- ; for every two quarts of boiled beans, take three tab^spoons molasses, one teaspoon salt, one teaspoon mustard, one tablespoon olive oil or butler, one-half teaspoon pepper, two tablespoons vinegar; stir these in thoroughly and cook for ten minutes. The beans, when done, should be quite dry. Take great care not to scorch them. Beans are never so goo^ three spoonfuls rose water, mace or other spice. Cheap Pound Cake. — One cup sugar, one-half cup butler, one-third cut milk, three eggs, one and a half cups of flour, one teaspoonful baking powder. Mrs. Holmes' Liberty Cake. — One cup butter, two cups sugar, one cup milk, one and one-half pints of flour, three eggs, salt and spices, and three teaspoons Babbitt's yeast powders. I'oRK Cake. — One cup of chopped pork, one cupful of raisins, the same of molasses and milk, one teaspoonful each of salt and soda, and four cupfuls of flour. Gold Cake. — The yolks of five eggs, one cup sugar, one cup rich cream, one teaspoonful soda, a pinch of salt, two cups of flour; season with vanilla. Silver Cake. — Half cup butter, one and one-half cups white sugar, one-half cup sweet milk, the whites of five eggs, one-half teaspoonful soda, and one teaspoonful cream tartar. Feaiher Cake. — One cup of sugar, one-half cup of milk, one and one-half cups of flour, one tablespoonful of butter, one-half teaspoonful of soda, one tablespoonful of cream of tartar; flavor with lemon. Clove Cake. — One pound flour, one pound sugar, half-pound butter, one pound raisins, two eggs, teacupful sweet milk, one tea.«poon saleratus, tablespoon cloves, tablespoon cinnamon and tablespoon nutmeg. PUKF Cake. — Three cupfuls of flour, three eggs, two cups of white sugar, one cup of milk, one cup of butter, two teaspoonfuls of cream of tartar and one spoonful of soda. Widow's Cake. — Two cups Indian meal, three cups wheat flour, one pint butter milk, four tablespoons molasses, two teaspoons saleratus. To be eaten hot, with butliai, for tea or breakfast. lli( KoRY Nut Cake.— Two teac«i7s of sugar, one-half ch|i of butter, one cup of thin cream, three and one-half cups of flour, three teas|«)onfuls of baking powder sifted through flour. '«. I'R'JIT C.^KE.— Onr p-riund brown siigaf, one of butter, ten eggs, -sTTe of flour, two (if raisinii and twu of currants, half pound uf citron, « nutmeg, tables^Hjoi •loves, one of allspice, two tcas|>oon» baking powder. ledium-sized dripping n roll out the balance ■ hot oven until done, vhere it was buttered. It warm apple-sauce, d it with apple-sauc« ne and one-half tea- ar, one pound butter, il of sugar, two eggs, beat up quickly and ind butter, eight egg\ •, one-third cut milk, ig powder, sugar, one cup milk, and three teaspoons of raisins, the same and four cupfuls of ! cup rich cream, one ith vanilla. te sugar, one-half cup , and one teaspoonful me and one-half cups da, one tablespoonful nd butter, one pound AS, tablespoon cloves. s of white sugar, one rtar and one spoonful flour, one pint buller 'o be eaten hot, with of butler, one cup of lis of baking powder t of chopjHjd hickory rn eggs, -c-n? '->f flour, I nutmeg, tabietiMoi y^Lat£Z£ HOME tCXOlVLEl^aE. pounds currants, one pou„a ci.ron, three- .r 1. 'T",""' """"^' "'•^'-. '«- two teaspoons mace, two of cinnamon Z f i '^""'"' ''"""• °"^ ^..^ molasses -g. one teaspoon soda, twelve ;: ' Z, t^^^: T "' "^^' '^^"^"' "^ -'' ha f cup ho, water. This cake wilfk^ep o 'n ' """'" ^"^"^ "-^'"^^ '" o-- White Fruit Cakp n^^ , ^^''f^- fourths of a pound of W^^:;' ^''«"' "'^ ^^•'"^ °^^-te.n eg. „.ee blanched and sliced thin "::; ^ L^^r"'* '^'"'T '''"'' ^^'■-^ "t'cRr" c""r' '^^'-^-"'-'' in cream "^ """' °"^ "^'^^"-"f"' "^ -ps of c^^'-of^:^:^^ ;;"rcr'r r'^''^^^- ^-^ ^"p °^-"^. 'h- th.n layers; three small cups of sugar ,i?so'''\"^'''^'^'''« P-'^": '-^e in done for candy ., , yj^ „„, fj "^^ ^ ' a httle water, and boiled until •ogcther half .,. ^,r. Put between the ".ke! "'"' "''*'" °^ ''^^^' •-"-' ''-t pof :r L^s;S::r::e;::sr:;;^r^r^^7; ^ --' ----- rants, one-half ,x,und of raisins, one nua te 1 TT """''•'"^ '""""' "^ cur.. cnnamon. one-half teaspoonful of ^r two' u °' '"T °'" '^•^^P"""^"' "^ two hours. '""' '^o tablespoons lemon-juice. li.,ke for 'onr c.^ ^^<^^^^:^x^^z^;:::r t'. '"""• ""^^ ^-p -'"'. Pla." ; after taking out the two pl.ain. leavTJ e "■' , ''' '" ""''■' ^'"■'•'^' '»'> one cup currants, one.half cup sliced r ', : T ""^ ""'' ""'' °"' ^"" ^'^^"^ cloves, one teaspoon cinnamon, one gr.rd' . le!'"'"" .""'""'' '""^ "^'^^P"- P'-'t.ng the fruit cake between the two plain Kh 7'''\'''''' J-"""/ -I ^rost add a little more flonr. ' ' ^^ ""^ '^'"'t cake seems a little thin. Chocolate M,\riii r Cake o cups flonr, one cup sweet milk.' four^Igg^;, J a.'.d V.:';;"''^ """'"^^ ^"S"' "-« cream ,,„„ .if,,,, ^j,,, ,,_ W,, .,7 he k "'"'"""'"'^ soda, one of cupful of the batter and s.ir into ...l! " "'""'•'• '•■''^'-' «"' about a tev wi.ha.scant .ab,es,K,onfuI o m k Fi, f •^'"7'^"' "^ «-'^'' ^'-'co late; t ye'iow batter, then' drop upon t J a ZZj'Z T '" '"^"^ ''"P -'" '"« broken circles upon the lighter surface 7rZ . '^'^ ""'""'■^' ^P'-^-'^'^K i' i" Totrr FA,T.-For this nice dcr cake are "' T u'"' """ "" '' "^^■-'• tablespoonfuls of sugar, the same of fl ^ :;;::r j'"' '"'; "' ^-^ «««^. -ree JUice of half a small lemon ; the whi, ; o '-^'''-Poonf-'Is of milk and the and mixed with the yolks, fl ,u etc he om"" Tu '" '"•^"^" '" '« ^"« f-" pan nn.l placed in a c,.Lk oven. '"'""^ ""^" '""•^' P"' '" =» ''uttered Moi.AS.SES Doi.'ciINl'TS — Tnt.. r.« /■ «W and a piece of butter half ih^r'oZl ""! ' '"'""''"'' ^"P "^ ""■"<. -e «nd one of soda, (^a.e in so, e .mtm g . 's' 7 '^■■^^'"""'" °' ^^''■^'" "^ -'- Thin OiN,:ER„REAi,_H„ii" " ;" *"■ '"""«'' '" "-o" °"t- a.elyone .-poonfu. sod^': eTu;:; bulr "^'" '-nty minutes, add immed,. 'o roll. ' '^"P °f ''Utter, gmger to taste, flour to make a paste -ihhi::';:;::r^;';::;j^-;,,;;^»;- « -i-'c sai,. f,our enough ,o mix hard, Ihan for common fried cake.. *" '"' " '"""• ''^y '" ^o' Jard-hotte, ■)'. * Q 046 THE COMPLETE HOME. Chicago Puffs— Four cups of flour, four cups of new milk, four eggs. In.tter the s,7.e of a walnut ; beat it as light as possible, bake in cups about twenlyhve minutes. . . • ■ ir • » t \Vaii RS -Melt a quarter of a pound of butter and mix it with half a pint ol milk, a teaspoonful of salt, three beaten eggs and suthcient sifted flour to enable you to roll them out easily. They should be rolled very thin, cut into sinal circular cakes and baked in an oven of moderate size. Frost the whole and sprinkle sugar- sand or comfits over it as soon as frosted. „ , , , SWEI-T CRACKF.RS.-One pound of flour, one-half pound of butter well -rubbed ini one-h.alf pound powdered sugar, mix with the yoik of one egg, well beaten, and a glass of sweet wine; roll out the paste very thin, and cut out in any small shape you please. , i GlNc-.KR CRACKF.RS,-One cup of sugar, one cup of lard, two cups of mokasses. teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in a little warm water, flour enough to make a stiff doui'h. two tablespoonfuls of ginger ; roll thin. BLACK Fruit Cake.— One pound butter and one pound white sugar, beaten to a cream; be..t well the yolks of twelve eggs, and stir all together; add half a pound of flour, stir in well; then one tablespoonful of cinnamon, two tcaspoonfuls nutmeg, one teaspoonful cloves, stir well; then the bealcM, whiles of the eggs, with another half pound of flour, one pound currants well washed and drained, one pound raisins seeded and chopped, one-half poun.l of citron cut in thin pieces; mix all together; this will make two cakes; bake two hours or longer; bake in deep tms lined willi well-buttered paper. Use no wine or brandy in cake-making; beat eggs light, always sift flour, and butter the cake tins. PIES AND PUDDINGS. AtTI F. Pot PlE.-Make a crust, with half of it line the sides of a stew pan, h,aving a close-fitting cover (a porcelain or granite one is the best). Fill the centre with peeled and sliced apples, and add to them a cupful of syrup, a pinch of ground cinnamon, another of salt, and a little butter, or use sugar and a little water instead of the syrup. Wet the edges of the crust and fit the balance of it over the top of the apples, being careful to have the s.aucepan only two-thirds full, in order to give room for rising. Put the cover on and boil for an hour without once lifting it. but be careful it does not stand in a place so hot as to burn. Cut the top crust into four equal parts, dish the api-les and lay the crust from the sides; cut into even pieces, around the outer edge, and then the top crust over all. and serve hot. Pi I'M Pi'DOINc, -One pound butler, one jviund sugar, one pound suet chopped fine, two and a half pounds flour. Prepare the fruit the day before; take two pounds raisuw, seed, chop and rub in flou-; two poun.ls currants; wash first in warm water; put in a colnn.ler to drain, then in two or three waters, col.l ; then spread out on a large dish to dry before the fire; when dry rub in flour. Ounrter poun.l <,f citron slice.l very thin, twelve eggs, one pint of milk, one table- .monful cinnamon, one teaspoonful of cloves, one ditto nutmeg; mix the butter and .ugar. bc.it the yolk, smooth and light, .nd .dd them. Next, ndd the milk, then ;c>i, lastly the fruil well udding cloth out of hot loun. VALUABLE IWMK K.XOWLKDGE DORCHESTrR ruDD.NG.-Half a pound of bread crumbs rrated h,1f , . suet finally chopped, half a pound of sugar, two eggs onTpo, o , ' f f T""' "' 1o be boiled live hours i„ a mould. Suce: ^^ ^^^^T^ ^r^^' grated nutn.g and a lillle flavoring if desired. When cool, serve ^1,1 nVh ere „ weetened, flavored and whipped to a stiff froth, or the cream m.ay be s U "Zt' -h.ppmg. Either way the dish is delicious, and peach Jonathan made i 1 e s'l manner ,s better Vill. Peaches will need no water if ,hey are ripe and it h 1 gill CO Id water, half a teas,..onful yeast powder, a few teaspoonfuls of preserve of any kind and a pinch of salt. ' '"'•■^^'^* J^'VTT "■' ':"""■ ""' """■•• ""'' P»' ""=-" '» - ''"w'. -i'ling a pinch of sal M,x the butter and flour together lightly and put in the yeast powder ylZ water. Use as bale water as possible, the quantity of water to be de,ern,i„ed by Koll o t the dough and cut it into circular pieces with a cake cutler. The remainder of the dough is rolled out again and smaller circular pieces cut out and w.th a ,..t of dough that is still left make small narrow s.rips. Th .re t s, sufTicent dnu.h to make a thin covering for a plate or flute dish. The d,sh should first be wet with cold water, and the dough bning pressed closely ,o the edges o e d.sh. Then pu, „, the centre the jam, and take the white of an egg and wet .he edges, af.er winch lay on the nnrr.iw strip, over the top. Nowpm on the smnlhr pieces of dough and bake them in a quick oven for twentyfive'inluu. s _! ji/iss Dods. Raisin riE.-Take one pound of raisins, turn over them one quart of b..i!i„a water. Keep adding so there will be a quart when done. Grate the rind „f o„e emon into „ cup of .un-.r, three teaspoonfuU of flour and one egg; mix well together ; turn the raisins over the mixture, Stirling the while. This makes ihrw pies. Hake as oiher pies. LmoN I'lK—Grale the yellow rind oft wo lemons; beat together the rind, juicc^ 548 THE COMPLETE HOME. ten tablespoonfuls of loaf sugar, and the yolUs of four eggs, until very light; then add two tablespoonfuls of water. Line a large plate and f>ll with the mixture ; bake until the paste is done ; beat the whites stiff and stir into them two tablespoonfuls of su-'ar, spread it over the top and bake a bright brown. Appi e Pudding.— One cup milk, one egg, one teaspoon cream tartar, one-half teaspoon soda; flour to make a batter. Pour this over quartered apples and steam two hours. Sweet sauce. OMlii.ET.— Make a nice omelet, when one side is cooked spread with preserves ami fold down ; sprinkle with sugar. CiiiAP Pudding.— Peel and core four or five apples, according to their size, cut them in slices, and lay them in a pie-dish ; sprinkle the... with sugar (pounded), and then put a thin layer of apricot or other jam. Take two ounces of arrowroot ; mix it with a pint of milk, a little sugar and a small piece of butter; stir it over the fire until it boils, and then pour it into the pie-dish with the apples and jam, and bake until done. r i r Cottage Baked Pudding.— Two ecgs, two cupfuls of sugar, half a cupful ot butter, one teaspoonful of soda sifted in two cupfuls of flour, and three cupfuls of buttermilk. Stir this last into the flour, etc., and mix lightly. Bake an hour in a pudding dish. Flummery.— Lay sponge cake in a deep dish, pour on white wine to moisten it ; chop some raisins fine and sprinkle over the cake; then spread over it a layer of jelly and turn over it a custard made with the yolks of eggs. Beat the reserved whites to a froth and spread over the top. Put a d.ish of red sugar sand here and tliere over it or tiny drops of jelly. Slices of orange, cut very thin, make a good garnish for it. • Batter and Apples.— Pare and core six apples, and stew them for a short lime with a little sugar, make a batter in the usual way, beat in the apples and pour the pudding into a buttered piedish. The i^udding, when properly done, should rise up quite light, with the apples on top. To be eaten at table with butter and moist »ug:ir. German Puffs.— Three eggs_, one pint milk, one large spoonful flour, a little salt, one teaspoon butter; leave out the whites of two of these eggs, and beat to a stiff froth, with two heaping tablespoons sugar; spread it over the top and brown it. Creme— One pint milk boiled with flavoring, for five minutes, have mixed four ounces sugar, f.nir egg-yolks, pour on the boiling milk sh-vly. Strain into u pan and set in a vessel of boiling water, cook until it shakes in the middle, flavor with chocolate, coffee, vanilla, lemon or fruit. Cool on ice if possible. Apple Meringue.— Stew apples ; dry with butter, sugar and spice; put in a dish when nearly cold and cover with a cake frosting. Bake three minutes; e.-xt with eream. Parsnip Pie.— Take twelve parsnips, three onions and six potatoes already boiled; slice fine and add half a pound of butter, half a pound t)f fat pork (cut •mall an,„,nfnl .,f salt, one tea^poonful of ^UL'ir i half teaspoonful of mustard, a quarter teaspoonful of pepper, two'thirds Tf .^^t,,'? I' :^*i.' I' Ml '-if*.. . .1" fm i I it 550 r//£ COMPLETE HOME. vinegar ; beat all together and boil in a bowl over the steam of a kettle till quit* thick ; then turn the mixture over a small half head of cabbage chopped fine ; if to« thick add cold vinegar. To be eaten when cold. French Mi.'stard. — Slice an onion in a bowl ; cover wilh good vinegar. After two days pour off the vinegar ; add to it a teaspoonful of cayenne pepper, a teaspoon- ful of salt, a tablespoonful of sugar and mustard enough to thicken; mix. Set on the stove and stir lill it boils. When cold it is fit for use. Drawn IJuttf.r. — Melt one ounce of butter in a small saucepan, and then throw in the dry flour, which mixes instantly. Then add one gill of milk and siir until it l)oils, then add one gill of cream. Let them boil two minutes so as to swell the jjrains of flour; then add the yolks of two eggs chopped fine. Sai^ce for Roast Beek. — Grate horseradish on a grater into a basin, add two tablespoonfuls of cream, wilh a little mustard ami salt, mix well together; add four trtblespoonfuls of the best vinegar, and mix the whole thoroughly. The vinegar and cream are both to be cold. Salad Drf.ssinc W'liuorT Oil. — Take the yolks of two hard-boiled eggs, and rub them quite hniooth in a mortar; add a teaspoonful of mustard, a little cayenne with black pepper and salt to Laste, and four or five tablespoonfuls of cream; lastly, add a tablespoonlul of vinegar, mix well, and it is ready. Of course it is much better with olive oil, l)ut there are yet people in the world who reject it. Foaming Sauce. — Boat a cup of sugar with a quarter of a pound of butter until it is light and creamy; add the well-beaten yolk of an egg, then the while cut to a stiff froth and heat vigorously. Stir in a wine-glass of water and flavoring. Set the bowl over the teakettle until the mixture is the thickness of cream; on no account allow it to boil or the sauce will be spoiled. Dried Beef (;ravy. — Shave very thinly one-half teacupful of beef, put over it one quart of cold water ; set on top of stove ; let it simmer one or two hours ; thicken with one and one-half tablespoonfuls of flour mixed with cold water, and butter size of walnut ; salt to taste. Celery Salt.— Save the root of the celery plant, dry and grate it, mixing it wilh one-third as much salt. Keep in a bottle well corked, and it is delicious for soups, oysters, gravies or hashes. Prune Wiiir. — Sweeten to taste, and stew three-fourths of a pound of prunes; when perfectly cold add whites of four eggs beaten stiff; stir all this together lill light; put in a dish and bake twenty minutes; when cold serve in a larger dish and cover with whipjied cream. SoYER Sauce, — One spoon mustard; one spoon olive oil; one-half cup catsup. Favorite Sauce. — Kind of one lemon sliced very thin, juice of the lemon, one spoon sugar, two spoons olive oil, two spoons mustard. Mixed Sauce. — Three apples chopped fine, two onions, one seeded cucumber, two green peppers, three tomatoes; chop well, mix with salt, pepper, mustard and Tinegar, a little sugar. Carrot Sauce. — Soak thin sliced carrots for two hours in cold w.ater (ice water is best); put in a pan wilh one pound of sugar and one cup of water; boil to a clear syrup; add juice of one lemon and boil for five minutes. Plain Puddinc; Sauce. — Three tablesi^oons sugar, three tablespoons vinegar, one »|>oon iiuiur, one spoon lloui ; iiiix wcii, ami pr.iir over them ihrccfourihs of a pii* of boiling w.atcr, cook for five minutes. Sprinkle with nutmeg or cinnamon. r^'h VALUABLE HOME KNOWLEDGE. 651 1 of a Kettle till quiti je chopped fine ; if to« 1 good vinegar. After ine pepper, a teaspoon' Lhiciien ; mix. Set on cepan, and then throw f milk and siir until it ites so as to swell the into a basin, add two 'ell together ; add four hly. The vinegar and hard-boiled eggs, and istard, a little cayenne nTuls of cream ; lastly, Of course it is much 10 reject it. . pound of butler until then the while cut to a and flavoring. Set the cream ; on no account ful of beef, put over it :r one or two hours; with cold w.iter, and grate it, mixing it with t is delicious for soups, of a pound of prunes ; tir all this together till ve in a larger dish and one-half cup catsup, aice of the lemon, one one seeded cucumber, t, pepper, mustard and 1 cold water (ice water if water ; boil to a clear ibtespoons vinegar, one ihrccfr.iirihs tif .-j pili c); or cinnamon. Stewards' SAUCE.-One pound butter beaten to a cream, one ounce chopped parsley, two ounces chopped chives, the juice of one lemon; mix and servo cold lor hsh or meat. Fisit Sauci:.— Boil two eggs hard ; pound the yolks smooth. Roil f„r five niin utes a few sprigs of chives, parsley, thyme and summer savory; strain this water on the mashed yolks and add one teaspoon each salt, sugar, mustard and black „e„„er hen four tablespoons olive oil and two of vinegar. ' Breai, Sai:ci.:.-C, umb white bread fine, stew one-half cup crumbs in one pint m. k, add pq-pcr, salt and nutmeg, also one spoon butter; serve with roast came IJUTrtCK SAUCK._One-half cup flour mixed into a smooth paste; sfr tins in.o half a pnu of bo.hng w..ter, add a little salt and stir steadily three nunntes; renu.ve from the fire and add one tablespoon butter, juice of one lemon, one tahloMUH... chopped parsley; keep it hoi for live minutes on the back of the stove, but on no account let it boil. Use for mackerel. For pudding sauces in winter notliing can be nicer than fruit-juice sauce. When canning fruit in the summer, small quantities oC juice arc frequently left over from filling the jars. Add to sucli jtn-(/ lirtail, and should insist upon having only good bread on her tahle. The retpiisites for good hrend- n-rakii.g art: care, absuiutc cicai,iii,e». good (Iwur ami good iiopyeast: these are about equally requisite, and if any one be lacking the result is bad bread. A ntuna I ll 652 THE COMPLETE I/O ME. jar or wooden bowl is best for setting bread sponge; these should be used for nothing else, and should be kept well scoured and sunned. Beat the sixjnge with a wooden beater. Set the sponge over night. In winter set it about six o'clock in the afternoon, and keep it warm near the stove over night. In summer set spon"e about nine or ten o'clock in the evening, and keep it iii a cool place— not a cellar or spring-house — so that it may rise wiihout becoming sour. To set bread, put two or three quarts of flour— according to your family— in a stone jar and pour boiling water over it, beating it smoothly until it is an even, tolerably thick jiastc. When this is lukewarm add to it one cup of hop yeast and one tablespoon of salt. In the m.jrning this will foam like soapsuds; pour this foaming sjrange into a kneadin^ bowl or pan of flour, and, using enough flour to make a good smooth dough, work it not less than twenty minutes, half an hour is better. Wlien this has been kept covered in a moderately warm place until light, you will find on tearing off a piece of the top that it is full of cells, honeycombed. At once knead it into loaves, using only flour enough to work it; kne.ad it at this time about ten minutes, or until the gas in the dough stops cracking and puffing; put it in buttered pans, and let it become light once more. Be careful that it does not stand too long and begin to ferment. See that the oven is not so hot as to form a crust at fust, for ihc bread should continue to rise after entering the oven, and a speedy crust makes it tou"h. Increase the oven hent after twenty minutes. Let it l)ake from an hour to an hour and a half, according to size of loaves. Have a nice even brown, sides, top and bottom. Hop-Yeast — Boil a large handful of hops in a quart of water, keeping them well covered. Have in a pan a pint of flour and three mashed Irish potatoes, pour the boiling hop-water on these and stir smooth. When lukewarm add one cup of yeast. Let it rise from six to tw.;lve hours; then add .-» small handful of salt and stir it down ; in three or four hours more put if in a closely covered, perfectly sweet stone jar or jug, and keep in a cool, dry, dark place. Coffee.— Never buy ground coffee. When about to make coffee t.ike the brown berries and heat them hot, then grind while hot ; have your cofi"ee-pot clean, empty, dry, allow no cold coffee or old groimds. Put the dry coflee in the pot, and pour over it as much boiliH^, hard l>oi/iii:^ water as you want coffee. If you have a French pot with a sieve in the middle, keep it securely fastened up, stand it where it will be hot but not boil for ten minutes, and your coffee will be all right. But sup- jjose that you have no French ])ot .' Tie your ground coffee loosely in a bit of lace- net, or larlatane, or very thin swiss mull, put it in the coffee-pot, pour on the boiling water as before, put a tight cork in the i^oul, and see that the lid fits closely, put a cloth in it if it does not, and let it stand back for ten minutes as before. The idea is lo keep all the aroma-charged steam in the coffeepot, and have the subtle oil of the berries in your coffee-pot, and not pervading all the house, wandering out of doors «nd regaling the neighbors, while you are dolefully drinking brown warm water. Tea.— Use a brown earthen tea-|iot, and dare to bring it to the table. Put your dry tea into this dry pot ; cover if and let it stand on the back of the stove till pot and tea are zip/.- this releases the aromatic oil of the leaves. Now |)our on the ioi/int,' WAifT, as much as you want tea; cover it closely. In Scotland they use a close w.'dded bag called a ro.uy to cover the pot, and it is i\ valuable invention. Never boil tea, black or green; heat the leaves, steep in boiling water, aud keep the sleam iu the put and the tea will be excellent. hould be used for ; the sixjiige with a bout six o'clock in iunimer set sponge place — not a cellar set bread, put two ir and jjour boiling lick paste. When >ii of salt. In the e into a kneading loolh dough, work his has l)cen kept tearing off a piece :ad it into loaves, 1 minutes, or until ed j>ans, and let it long and begin to 'iisl, for the bread it makes it tough, n hour to an hour vn, sides, top and ler, keeping them ish potatoes, pour n add one cup of mdlul of salt and d, perfectly sweet !e lake the brown pot clean, empty, he |X)t, and pour If you have a , stand it where it right. IJut sup- t in a bit of lace- mr on the boiling fits closely, put a are. The idea is i subtle oil of the ring out of doors warm water, table. Put your the stove till pot low pour on the 3tland they use a uahle invention, water J and keeu VALUABLE HOME KA'OWLEDGE. LEMON.'Vni- —This ic , • ' ^"'^ -. in the spring the;: I'Z ^X^t. of bd' '"^'"^ °"' '^^ — ' ^^ 'Veely P'-;- It is more wholesome when t-Iv m'r'T '''"'' '^"^^^^ ''^ ^''-h to com halve nuo the pitcher, strewing them ZZ l^T ''"''"• '^^'^" ^'-" '"« Let the lemons and sugar lie for an hour ^his 11 u '" ''''^ S'''''""'^"^^ ^"gar. I^' of ,ce laid on top of lemons and su"' in.nr "f ^'^ "'^^°^ "' "'^ ""^s. A w at w.a.er you want for iemonade.l rr L ' nf '"• '''"'' ="" "-'• ^ - ^^^ best, but any other will do. sLin^hrl!"'!. ^^ ■^'"''' ''^^'^''"'^^ or strawberries are ;;.i'e sugar; beat well. vX :r;T:^r:i^' ^^^-^-^ ^^ ^ vZZ fif.een m.nutes; when it is all a thick fo.m n, , . """'"' '''"'' '^«=^' '"^d for l^Kow.v liREAD.-One quart hr '^ " ■"'° «"'^'^''^ f"'' dessert. or n.o.asses, one heapi;; :;: ^u Tf' sTl": ""•^" ^"f " '-^•' ^ ^'^--P - -n add a little rye or wheat .our, Z. I Z ^:r ^ i;:;^ ^ ^^ ^^ DISHES FOR INVALIDS. Beef Tea —r ^^^ivalids. >n.o ^mai, dice-iik:',:;':': ^ or;;c'c n "^^^ ''-'■' ^'-^ ^- "^^ -- -at '--y or thir,yn,i„ute,,\kim:::g'^' .:,;""'-•--- >he juices; boil Another, better for the very sick, or fo wTaks' u" '*"'" '"' "'' '° 'a^tc. »s above, intoawide.mou.hed b^tle 0^,0 ''"' "' -"'eef, prepared i "^ stomach pre. pi^;^r;^?a:;r • z::^ r ,r ' r'" - ""•: ^°'" -- ' -^ » -» •-il; being constantly stirred fo six or e h • ' '""' °' '°"'"S "■•^'-. ^'d let it -.h the cold meal L wateUrr ^ ^vTas iLr" '^ ^"^""' ^"^ " '" removmg it from the stove. Gruel should i- verv ;.i:;:''":.^f ,°^7;"^""™- '^^- CK...M.-Or.„d nee to a very , ^:i:^i^: "" ^^'"^ "■ '-' '■^-^ ^ "-^ ^^ ^^^^ -^ '-- ^-- p^p^^ -ri;^:;:^rtt;Ti:;r::;;::;::;-;;;:-^ warm w.ter. sp.nkle each brush with plenty of powder, borax nd rlf. e w' over the bristles. Keep the back of ihe brush as dry a^ possible ShL ,K watery,,. ..and dry quickly in .he sun. Brushes waled .^^^ay ^Jil^t-: CoMns AND Brushes should be kept well cleane-l. A very .asv method is t, scour^them .n strong warm ammonia water, shake well, and .;y inthe sun .n th^ Dish \yASH.NG.-I am truly sorry for those young housekeepc s who hate to wash greasy cbshe,. A few directions which I will give. sin,ple as thcv seem. 11 i", lowed, help to le.ssen the disagreeableness of this dreaded duty' 1 would fit d.sh pan half full, or nearly so. with water as hot as you can I r the hal t Take enough so..p to make a slight suds; pt.t in the dishes, ha mg a clean dish c o h Wash them .nd turn them into a pan. and pour hot water over them U turn them mto another pan to drain ; take another clean dish to. 1 to wipe them with, and they w.U wipe so quickly and easily you will be surpris ' If you will put water ,nto the ,x.ts and kettles as soon as emptied, they will b. leaked so tha. they will wash easily by the time you are ready for them Smoke STA.NKt, WALLs.-Wash the walls with a common wl. wash brush. ' d.p,>ed in a soluMon of ten cents' worth of pulverized white vitriol d .solved in two quarts of cold water. It may take more than that to wash over thoroughly the snTioke-stained walh, but that is the right proportion (ten cents' w.r.h of white vitno to two quarts of col.l water). Let ,t dry over night, and the nex- day put on 1 tnn tZ riT^l "• r; ''"' ' '""'^-""' '^^^■'^•'•"'^ "' "^^'^ -^ ''-' ">"> a pail, then hi the pail with hot water. Cover up closely, and let it stern until ,he I.me IS entirely dissolved, stirring occa.sionally. When dissolved add t the wish five cents' wor.h of painter's blue. Stir all thoroughly together, and ap :>ly with a common whitewash brush. It will not nib off, and Is as cU-ar'and wrife a.s the finest kalsomming. One twenty-cen. - kage of white rock lime will make wash enough to whiten three rooms 14 by 10. '.frs. H. W. Beechtr. % i t. :l 558 THE COMPLETE HOME. ies To Ci.F.AN Rlack Ci.oth or Si IK.— Sponge with warm wafer, or cufTee with .immonia in it; press on tlic wrong sulo. If the silk is thin, add a little sugar to the cleaning water. To Ri-.MOVK (IREASE Sl'OTS.— Saturate with ammonia and press with a hot iron over brown paper. One ounce of borax, dissolved in a pint of boiling water, is also excellent for removing grease spots. Borax Water, as above, with the addition of a few drops of oil of myrrh, or spirits of camphor, is far better for the teeth than any bought denlilrice; it keeps them clean and sound. Remove white spots from furniture by rubbing with camphene. Scratches can be taken from varnish by rubbing w^'h kerosene. A bruise will yield to a hot iron pressed over wet flannel. Unvarnr,lied furniture can be polished with beeswax and turpentine. Clean glass with ammonia. Clean wall-paper with stale bread. The most obdurate stains in white goods, as ink or fish-blood, can be removed by soak- ing the article in sour milk for several d.ays, rubbing well each morning and chang- ing the milk; keep it in the sun meanwhile. Silt and lemon rubbed on rust stains will generally remove them; half an ounce of oxalic acid in a pint of soft water, kept well corked, is a good mixture for removing rust stains. It is very poisonous, and should be well cashed from the goods. This preparation is dangerous to keep where there are servants or children, for fear of accidents. Tar, pit..h and turpentine can be removed by soaking in sv/eet oil, or melted tallow, or lanl. Paint can be removed by rubbing with spirits of turpentine. If ink is spilled on a carpet, lift the carpet at once, draw the stained portion over (I i«ail, and pour cold water slowly through it. This is good treatment for any article with wet ink. , ^ RlinioNS AND Sli.K can be cleaned by sponging with lukewarm suds, rubbing both ildes, and dry by winding very tight around a bottle. White Ci.otiie.s which have yellowed from lying should be wrung out of suds ?nd laid on the grass in the sun for several days. When washing, hang up all the clothes wrong side out, the white ones in broad sunshine, the colored ones ahunvs iu the shade. JJ/uiUrts are better dried on a windy, cloudy day. Calicofs should bew.ashed in a tliin perfectly clean suds— not in the suds after white clothes; rub no soap on them, but rinse in one clear water and one bluing w.ater. When any kind of cotton or linen clothing is laid away f.)r a few months, it should neither be blued, starched nor ironed, but well w.ished and rinsed through two clear waters and put away rough-dry and neatly folded; this preserves the color ttnd fiiire of the goods so that they l.ist much longer. House Insects, etc.— No insect which usually infests the house and crawN over the floors or wood work can live under the application of hot alum water. It will destroy red and black ttnts, cockroaches, spiders and chinchbugs. Take two pounds of alum and dissolve if in three or four quarts of boiling water. I,cf it stand on the fire until the alum is all melted, then apply it with a brush (while nearly boiling hot) to every joint and crevice in your closets bedsteads, pantry shelves, etc. If, in whitewashing a coiling, plenty of alum is added to the white, wash, it will keep oil insects. — American Garden. weet oil, or melted 1 suds, nibbing both VALUABLE HOME KWOU'LEDGE. A FEW THINGS TO REMEMBER. 569 will l« ,«,o„,,. Tl,;. a„i.fc e., be .„,™,.a ^1:^ f,::^,-"'''""^'"'""'''- « C<,AL Asins.-The best purpose to which coal ashes can be applied in -nun coinury, ,s ,„ making gardon-walks. If well hid down n "^ .,w, and b, use they become as solid ^^IX^Z^:!:::^ ^ «"- ^^"' as a nun>bo,- of chamomile plants dispersed throuL-h it N , *^" '" ^..e should ever be without'it. in a grL o.' t^^^J^, eil^^r; l^:: I^r; W.11 answer. It ,, a sn,gular fact that if a plant is .hooping and npparen ly , 1 .n mnc cases out often it will recover if you plan, chamomile near It ^ ^' EcoNOMY.-A pnulent and economical housewife will make a s'oup of bits of .1 meat and the broken bones of a fowl, flavored with an onion, a ca.rot . d l'.t of parsley, that wdl prove more savory than a soup of thrice the cc st nnde Iv I careless hand. From the toughest parts of a fat and • elLflavored piece of 7 mutton, she wl, compound s.ews and potted dishe. that wiU:; ieM f: .:; there are choicer bits to be had on any terms *" CKMKXT FOR G,.ASS.-Cement for glass io be used without heating the glass- a. In, lass ,n water to a creamy consistency, and add a little alcohol.^ Ceme m o l)e warmed before usin". --c"icni lo To Makk Mats ,4 ti,f. TAn,.,.:._Tnke small sticks of black walnut ,nd . w.d.h. Place them alternately .and glue to a piece of heavy cloth. They ca >e - round, square, d.amond-shaped or any other pretty way. and, whe .rn I make ,piite a pretty orn.nmental mat. v.unisnecl, T.> Ma,n'mer complaint; also for aci.lity oMhe on-h. When ad.led ,o milk it has no unpleasam tas.e. and when i .Ik Ihat would otherwise cnr.lle when heated, i, nrov.,,.. ..,..,.,,■ „ ,J " ' , -dfor ,,udd.ng, and pies. A small quantity'of it wilfp^ven; ihe .;;.rni,;;" ^f cream and n,dk I, „|s„ sweetens and purifies bottles which have confined milL Some add a cupful tu a sponge of bread to prevent i, from .curing i, i ■It ^ 660 rj/£ COMPLETE HOME. HousEiroi.D Conveniences.— "A place for everything, and everything in its place," is rather a hackneyed saying; but, after all, it perfectly Jescrihes the domain of a good housekeeper. As much attention should lie given to the kitchen as to any other part of the house ; a busy housewife spends a large amount of time in that room, and she should strive to render it a pleasure, and not a dread, to enter it. A great convenience in a kitchen is a roomy wall-pocket. It may be made very nic.ly of common brown card-board, bound with scarlet braid, having three pockets— a large one at the bottom and two smaller ones above. In the larger out may be put dusters, towels, etc. ; in the others string, rag for cuts, and other small articles. Another convenience is a hag for dirty towels and dusters, which may hang in a closet in the kitchen. It saves much time and labor on a washing day. Always have a match-safe and scraper in the kitchen. It saves much disfigurement of the walls. Get your tinman to make you tin-boxes, with tight-fitting-lids, to hold yeast-cakes, tea, coffee, and spices. They preserve the flivor. A large apron, made of oil-cloth and bound with braid, is useful when washing clothes or dishes. Squares of zinc or tin are useful in the kitchen for standing sauccp ,.• on. If you are without ice in the summer, keep drinking water in unglazed earthenware jars or pitchers. The evaporation and condensation on the oulsiiie of the jar will keep its contents cold. To Preserve Meat.— Roil together one quart good vinegar, two ounces of salt, two ounces of sugar ; when cold w.-ish the meat over with this mixture. Oatmeal in the Household.- In Great Britain children of all ranks a»j raised on an oatmeal diet, alone, because it ';auses them to grow strong and healthful, and no better food can possibly be found for them. It is also quite .as desirable for the student as the laborer, and fur the delicate lady as for the hard-working sister; indeed, all classes would be greatly benefited by its use, and dyspepsia, with all its manifold annoyances, can be kept at a safe distance. Oatmeal is most sub- stantial food; it is equal to beef or mutton, giving .is much or more mental vigor, while its great desiileratum consists of one's not becoming weary of it, for it is .s welcome for breakfast or tea as is wheat or Graham bread. It can be eaten with syrup and butter, as hasty pudding, as with cream and sugar, like rice. It is especially good for young motherS upon whose nervous forces too great a demand has been made, when they lose the equilibrium of the system and become depresst.l and dispirited. Oatmeal requires to be cooked slowly, and the water should brt boiling hot when it is stirred in. To Preserve Dead GAME.-Take out the intestines, fill the inside with unground wheat, and place the fowl in a heap or cask of the same grain in such a manner as to insure its being covered. In this way fowls may be kept perfectly «weet for months. The feathers should he removed. Or, fill the cavity with char- coal .ind a little salt ; rub the exterior with salt, pin up in a linen towel nn.l hang in a dark, airy place. Wipe it .Iry before filling it. Any kind of meat will keep longer in hot weather, if it i» put in an earthen jar, sprinkled with charcoal, and covered with netting to admit air and keep out flics. An ordinary flour or apple barrel will smoke four or five moderate-sized hams or shoulders. Both heads are removed and a mo- alile cover provided for the lop. This may be of boards, or an old oil-cloih or tight blanket will answer. A short trench is dug in which is laid n length of old stovepipe. A larger excavation is then made, in which a pan of burning cobs or chips can be placed. This is covered by a VALUABLE HOME KNOWLEDGE. '- barrel, and over the stovepipe to k p a7^, u t "' "°'""' '"^ ''""-^ of cioth or blanket. On placing a pan o, ZkZl^^ p"""' "^'•^' -"- - "^ the smoke passes through the toveoin; m f, "''' '" '^"^ P'»=e provided -oke. Should the .up'port of ; e T L H' ^'"^ " ^^'•"' ^ '^'^ ' -:^'"™.ti..he.eorashes.a:s:^S-^-^^^^^ FOR HOUSE PLANTS. The CALI.A Lily blooms at three years T i a hole .„ the bot.on,, put the lily i„ ,/j fi, "the a^th^ "'^ """'^" ^''' -''h°«' fill w.th warm water in which you have nut a f^^ "'""'■'"■' '""" °^ ""^'^ ^arlh; --room; give as much .ight and I pos^:, 'Z; 1 '""^r'' "^-P ^^ in a . Slugs on liEcoNus.-Slugs are occasionnll '^^""^ "^ ^^"^^• '" ;he leaves of all succulents' and ^Z:^^^ '^'7 '^^«« ""'- "^ notches Cut potatoes, turnips or some other fleshT e.el 7 ""'1 ' ''"" '"""^ "'^ "'ght. ■en.ly near the plants. The slugs w g'th f T '''''"' ='"'' P'^^ ^o"ve„. <^estroyed. ^ *'" S'^"'" "PO" the vegetable, and are easily -^c;e ^-^t:!::: t:::zzz" r'- ^^'- ^^'^ «- --- P'n». When cold the strained liq id s "e I' f "^'"' •'"'^ ''-' ^'-n to r,v« vvatermg pot or syringe. ^ "''^ '^°'' "^^- either by means of a White Worms ti i.- P'-.s are kept i„ potr:;t'U:vTd Ts'tV""";"^^'"-"^ »" ^''^ -he. -1, or sprinkle a little slacked lime o„ h rh"" 'T""' """ ""^'^^ ''-• "- L.me water may be easily made by slacking. iT '" ""= ^''"'^^^ °^ "'« P«t. -ter. letting this settle, and then LttlL; fh leTrVa'trf"' '""" '" '^ ''' °^ -'<« tablespoonful twice a week. "« clear water for use. Give each pot a wuh a kn.fe, turn upside down nd shake oltut """I, "^^ '""^ ''* "''^ P°* ''''l" all the loose earth, take a new po.. set the ^Lt '''""' f" "'^'"^'^ «''^^^' ^''"''e off we 1. heap on fresh soil, and ke p n h s^ 1""^ ;?:^'="'\^-'' "'"^ "bout it. soalc Soit. FOR I.„T p,._. ' '""^ ■ "'^"e for two or three d.iys. manure.one.half chips or rhJoTrjrn"'"'"'"" ""' ""^'■''"-'- -^ll-rotted -e. If the commr ., is clay^'l^ ' Sh";:;:r:S^^^^^^^ ^ HOME AMUSEMENTS. Do not begrudge the family inn-^e-it -r-- - abundant sorrows and regrets -let' the oT""- "^"^ '''"«• disc as possible-a blessed ol; ^' "'"'^ '''^^ ^^^*' ^ e-a blessed oas.s .n memory. For small children, toys 'b,f 662 THE COMPLETE HOME. "II ,\ i simple ones, or home-made, or those which they are helped to malce for themselves, are the very best. Let boys have some kind of a work- shop, and give girls a work-basket, round-end scissors and a plenty of material for inventions or experiments. Let them have musical instruments, if possible, if there is musical taste; pencils, patterns, drawing-paper and paints, if they like art. Give them a boat, if you can, if they are by a pond or creek; let them go fishing and pic- nicing, when it is suitable. Croquet, ball and out-of-door games, with a pole and bar for gymnastics, add much to the likelihood of keeping active children peaceably at home. Puzzles, dissected maps, checkers, chess, dominoes, the game of authors, fox and geese and jackstraws all help, with useful and pleasant books, to pass evenings, holidays and rainy days cheerfully; while they do their part in developing self-sacrifice, courtesy, ingenuity and quickness of thought. Let the children have an occasional "candy-pull," a time of nut- cracking, corn-popping and apple-roasting: life will move more smoothly for the whole family by the help of such occasions of mirth and social pleasure. In winter, skates and sleds should not be denied : they are good for both boys and girls. Sleds can be of home manufacture if money is scarce, and children will find means by self-denial and industry to buy their own skates, if they are allowed reasonable time to use them. When a gun is permitted, a lad should not be allowed to keep it Joadcd in the house, nor to clean it where the family are gathered, nor to shoot indiscriminately at birds and harmless creatures; he should be taught carefulness, humanity and explicit obedience in the use of his gun. Encourage all children to pursue gardening. Lead them on pleasantly in it, as says H. Ward Beecher, thus : " If n boy should set out to raise flowers it is desirable that he should have floweri that are easy to raise, and are profuse in their blossom. A boy that can bury a chipmunk after he is dead can plant a gladiolus, and aftor they are once planted there is nothing to be done but to keep the bed weeded ; and as soon as they bios- •cm they are so gorgeous that the boy is sure to be very proud of them. You can get them for a few cents apiece, and so can furnish, for a dollar or two, a bed of gladiolas that will blossom more than two months, and be pre-eminently gorgeous. Th-T! gire him a liiiic iiniruciion, and let him try something else : u tow of [Kippics, perhaps— they sow the.nselves. Get the French poppy, which is single, but runs VALUABLE HOME KNOWLEDGE. *rough the most exquisite range of color .11 u- ^^^ A.SO the perennial po'ppy. whicfsl^becre eS -^a " I"^' ^T' "" '•"^■^^-• •hey are so gorgeous that every one who comes Lea th . ' ""'' '" "'^'^ •^'"^' glasses, as it were! They fill \ child's eye The. T I"' '° ^"' °" ^^""^"^-l cess. Every one admires thera • .„d th7 .H ^- '^°'' ''"" '^ "^'''g^ificent sue boy. who goes through that oneVulerd fir:" "'"" "'^ ^'"''■"°"- "T'- what he has done, has generally got the hortic Uura 7 "" ^P°"'— 'X Poising caught it he never recovers - ■' "lofticullural fever; and when he has once HINTS ON SEWING AND MENDING -, because the ^: !^:T::::zr' Ti '''-' ''-^ -- while they are thunselves ignora of J , ''''/'''''''' ''''''' -t, fit, baste or finish a^Tl s 'J '''''''''''''''' '^ ^'^eir popularity by an^gno^err ^ZrZ^TT T' machine. The needle h.<= .i , ' ^^ "^""^ ^^y a -d an, ., u:r;it::':r:,:n "': '"'""■"' "'-- and old , she ha, ,va,de,l J "'"""^ """S» ""' crea.d .^ch o^o : ZsZZr '""'" '"' ^""'"^^ '- ably indepe„d.„>. Tru ' "re L r'"""" """'"" ""-"--P-'- woman q„ Jio„ W tan " " '"'"" '"" '" ""= "-<«"=■ H siiuii. wiiat an autocrat was the eklerlv ,^ ■ i went from house to house in our childhood tlf " "'° maker of the whole neitrhborhnrwi , '°°'^' "^^ ^^''^--^^^ or ^ress- and fashions ! "'^'S'^'^-'--^. ^.ghest authority on both news Darning is an important part of sewinrr t n r towels, sheets, pi„ow-cases, hLdk c TLs™:, ",; T^'^'''"^' in clothing should be neatly ^anu,- thi ki,Ki f r" "''''' and lasts long. "'^ ""^ '"'="^'"6 'ooks well, or *r:;:; '::::; tt'z r ^ '^^"" *°-" - ">= -^ --j:rro:;,:r:h:ri:i-- I' I'll 564 THE COMPLETE HOME. r:-'-: % •if|i frayed at the edges, should be mended and re-bound ; blankets, where broken, should be darned, and the edges bound or hemmed. Sheets with small breaks can be darned ; a patch sometimes avails for a long time ; a double sheet can be made to double its existence by overhanding the selvedge edges together, tearing down the centre of the slieet, and hemming it to become the outer edge. A Worn-out Double Sheet will often cut over to advantage for a single bed or crib, or its good portions will make a pillowcase for servants' beds, and the worst portions make good hemmed cloths for use in covering articles in pantry and store-closet, or, doubled and run together, make good dusters. A small sheet descends also honor- ably to these uses. AVoRN-ouT Tadle-Cloths, which have prolonged their existence by virtue of neat darns, can become common 'napkins, or make — the edges being fringed — very soft towels for infants and invalids, and fringed or hemmed are valuable for covering meats, cakes and pies in the store-closet. Old Towels, when darning them has ceased to be a virtue, can be doubled and run together for dusters, or the best parts can be cut out and made up double for wash-cloths for the toilette. Old AVoollen and Flannel Clothes have not only their ordinary use as sewed into carpet-rags, but they can be cut in strips and crocheted or braided into mats, or can be made into dusting, floor and cleaning-cloths. Worn-out Stockings can be neatly made over by cutting off the heels and soles, taking as much length from the toe as you cut off at the heel, and making new soles. One pair can be taken for making soles to three or four other pair. Flannels, worn out for winter use, can sometimes be reconstructed for summer or night use by cutting out the necks, removing the sleeves, binding them with bias muslin, and darning the thin places. Dresses, which look very sliabby and worn out, can be rejuve- ■ nated by ripping, bnishing, sponging, pressing, adding new facing and braid, putting on fresh buttons and some other trimming, and re-working the button-holes. m VALUABLE HOME KNOWLEDGE ^oid r^CaXr" ^' ""^"""^^ -<* --^^'^ ^«-. win The buttons and strings should never be allowed ,„ -OHS as.„es„oes are .bus ruined by twisting a r,;™"'," "" ll.e clothes, a, dresses, eoats and sk.rts, of elder ne usefully nude over for younger ones. Old ,v " '7"" T" '" will make up neatly into aprons or serve ,1, '''"'" or make ruffled bed-room lal;; l^ "" ':""" '"'""' general thing, be much better Z^d and b T "■°""'' ^" '•' tastefully decorated if ,1 f " """ '"""•''i ""'O *ings:Hicr:r;vr:::7 "^' " ""^'""' ^'°" '■"'^— .he"::::! k°zr "" ""■ ^"^ - *- - -or «. soo„ a, c.ot;''cri;d:" :z ::::: ^-t '- "> -^^ *-■ "»<■"- to retritn a ha. for a" ' '''«--"1 -=■«• and also ho,v .-..er taste in bon t ,ak ' Z'"" "^"^ ""^ '""'" "^ '- milliners, and are li e v to fn ""r^" '"' "'^ ''"""'"y "' faces, and have less f ^ n ^ ^ T\ """' '""""^ "" °"" Acp, besides savin, i„ ,7 ° ''™''"="''"» °"l« "■""'ter', arti e. AladT?bo;n 7'"'""°" ""^ '"'' "■= ""- °^ ">' dall in ,n H ""■ '" ""■ 'i' ""'' ""» her dress etn MI in an ordinary seamstress, and, by her helo on rh, ,' make in a week several j , * ™ machrne, - Charged ^ Zt^ ^Lt dl: .^h""""' "- c..n<.ri:'!r:,:::;:g::::'rn,:t:h'''°r"''- •-'^'"' ^'■"■^'«'^ ^" ^:^:r :£------:::: regarded especially i„ ^ "d - '"" ''" ""' ^'""'^ ""' _ 1 ^"yn girlb and women's clothes, wh^rp , ...„™..^. - wcght at the waist is most dangerous. !*^ w m 666 THE COMPLETE HOME. 3 I tii' i { i.. I ^ A FEW SIMPLE REMEDIES. Toothache may be speedily and delightfully ended by the application c* a small bif of cotton, saturated in a strong solution of ammonia, to the defective tooth, P'OR Faceache, or Swollen Face, administer six drops of ammonia ji a tablespoonful of water; make a poultice of hops anil flour, or meal, or simply of bjiled hops, and put it on the face, covering with flannel. A quiet, dark room and a sleep will complete a cure. For Acute Neuralgia of the Eve or Head, bathe the part in warm water strongly impregnated with laudanum ; Keep cloths wrung out from this mixture lying covered with flannel on the painful place, and administer ammonia as above every half hour, or one tablespoon of amnioniated valerian every four hours. For Hysterics, or Hysteric Convulsions, rub the spine with a coarse towel, put hot water to the feet, bind poultices of mustard and flour on the wrists and ankles, and administer the ammoniated valerian as above. Remove t\ corsets or compressing clothing. In these cases perfectly calm common-sense is needed to control the patient; the nurse should be firm and not too sympathetic. For Croup, administer a teaspoonful of strong alum water; repeat the dose every fifteen minutes until free vomiting occurs. Put the legs in hot water and then wrap up in flannel ; place on the chest a poultice of corn meal sprinkled with mustard. Beware of cold draughts. As the attack departs, administer a dose of m.ignesia, rhubarb or of castor oil. Where children are liable to croup, alwayi; keep the alum water solution ready on the wash-stand. For Severe Vomiting, after the stomach seems to have been relieved of any irritating substance, put at the feet a bottle of hot water, and apply to the stomach cloths wrung out of hot vinegar and mustard ; keep the patient in bed, with the head comfortably elevated, apply a cloth wet in cold water to the forehead, and keep a handkerchief wet in bay rum, cologne or champhor, near the face. Have the air pure ; the room partially darkened. Eruptions on the face in spring, or occasioned by heated blood, may be cured by washing the face each night with a mild solution of epsom salts, letting it dry on. Take one ounce cream tartar, one ounce epsom salts, mix in one pint cold water, keep in a cold place, and take a dessertspoonful three times daily: this cleanses the blood gradually, and purifies the complexion. For DiniTiiERiA. — Strip from a well-smoked uncooked ham a portion of the skin, tearing it oiT so that the fat grains will adhere. Cut this to fit the throat, hollowing it for the front, and allowing a portion to rise high up to each ear. Bind this on the throat — the greasy side next the flesh — and renew it every four hours. Admin- ister twenty drops of murialed linclure of iron three times daily, reducing the dose if the child is less than seven years old. Gargle the throat with flowers of sulphur water, or blow flowers of sulphur gently into the throat through a quill, or burn a minute portion of sulphur on a shovel and let the patient inhale the fumes. Repeat the suljihur treatment three times daily. Keep the patient in bed ; the feet warm ; the head cool ; the room we!i aired — foul air is death in diphtheria. Let the food be ice cream, or dessertspoonfuls of cream, or jjure calves' foot jelly, or raw egg and loaf sugar well beaten and administered half an egg at a time four times daily. This treatment we believe to be jw/rt/Z/ii/ir in diphtheria : it has cured the most oiistinate cuses. And il the lioitsc: wlicie the tii-,eiiMe a])pears is at once well whilewasiieil, fumigated well with sulphur three days in succession, and the dr&inj, urain pipes VALUABLE HOME KNOWLEDGE. «nd sewage are at once attended to, we believe there i. , , •,• proving fatal or .sprea.ling: ^M^/JriahaZl Z . ''""'^^'""'y °f ">« disease this treatment Kills the Xr/^:Z:/'Zf^: ^^ ^"'^ -'"- '•" blood to resist them, and to give them no root-hl ' ""^ ''""S"^^"'' "'« fumes. Sulphur fumes or garble as aive so"T. '''''^ '," ""''''' ^"^ '"'-"= '"« To Cure Hoarseness -It 1 f'^^'^fo- Burn sulphur in fny particles. -^>. .he White of an z, t^ii^ h::"^:^^ :;:i r ^"^^ '^ -"-^ ^^ A teaspoonful taken occasionally is the dose ""'°" J"'"*^ '''"'^ ^"g»^- Remedy for Ear ^mr tu When a child has .arache, k«p i, warm and ,,„ie, so„d,e i, , songs, by stories, and by rocking i. gentiv .iv. ^"'"'""""""'y mini, er a few drops of Lm„„,a ^I ' ' f," ."t .7'"' '« "'■ co™ ™ca, gr., giyc,.age„„e ..c. ::'::t: Z::: and f. he a„ack is viCcn, bind a hop-p„„„icc over ,he ear. Sri mg Ihc ear w,,h warm CaM. .cap suds and sweet oil is ™„d 7, carcfu, wl,a. y„„ ,„,,„,„ ,.,.,^„ ^„ « J ' « S" • b„. be or nndcr.a,„e an attack of earache; i, iraterrible a „, ver 1 r ng the nerves, and might produce serions result '. ,( chM y" to t should have ,ts ears protected from cold and draughts a, d ,« feci kepi dty emj want. ' " hea, touch it; then npply a su" m. I e T" '"' ^^'"'•'"^• '"' '^' "" ""«--' rul-hcd together unti 'it for 7 , dT ""m 'T^' '"' "'" «"""-''-. will l,e well. ' ' ""'^ '" '"' "'■■'" f°»'- ''"urs the frozen part* put it in warn, water 1 so kvT.^ ft' "!" "" '" ^'" °' ^""^ ^""'^'^ "^^ hour. '"''' y°"' '^^'^^ '" "' "» ^-^"> «^ you can bear, for half a. when you nwake. rise nd ess at n ''' " '"'' ' «° '° ''"' •-" " ^'^«"'- '"'"^J ^'^ in .he day.' Thesr^:':,:; :;;::;;:■;:;; ^r r; '- '^^ --"- --' Cogs, but wil, publis, h IZTZ ';:i";"^"."--' -- f- 'he bites'of mad Was. the wound per.tiy c.^iiSTr ■:^r t:;:::;/^ ^ xt . s. t ^'' -:l 568 THE COMPLETE HOME. Afteiivard pour into the wound a few drops of muriatic acid, for mineral acidi destroy the poison of the dog's saliva." The best remedy for bleeding at the nose, as given by Dr. Gleason, is the vigorous motion of the jaws, as if in the act of mastication. In the case of a child a small wad of paper Sould be put In the mouth, and the child instructed to chew it hard. It is the motion of the jaws that stops the flow of blood. This remedy is simple, but it has never been known to fail. Many diseases are induced in summer, and sudden deaths occur, from people drinking freely of cold water while they are over-heated or exhausted from work. Dr. Parker gives the following advice as to— The Best Drink for Laborers.—" When yov. have any heavy work to do, do not take either beer, elder or spirits. By far the OLSt drink is thin oatmeal and water with a little sugar. The proportions are a q-iarter of a pound of oatmeal to two or three quarts of water, according to the heat of the day, and your work, and thirst. It should be well boiled, and then an ounce and a half of brown sugar added. If you find it thicker than you like, add three quarts of water. Before you drink it shake up the oatmeal .veil through the liquid. In summer drink this cold; in winter hot. You will find it not only quenches thirst, but will give you more strength and endurance than any other drink. If you cannot boll it, you can take a little oatmeal mixed with cold v.atcr and sugar, but this is not so good. Always boil it if you can. If at any tlm ■ ou have to make a long day, as In harvest, and cannot stop for meals, increase the oatmeal to half a pound, or even three-nuarters, and the water to three quarts, if you are likely to be very thirsty. If you cannot get oatmeal, wheat flour will do, but not quite so well." We would add that while it is an enormous cruelty and dangerous to life to force a horse or other beast to labor in the heat without drink, which it craves as much as a man, it will suffer as much as a man from a sudden cold drink. Give the working beast a pailful of water in which a tablespoonful of salt and a quart of bran are stirred. For a Wound. — The most severe wounds can be treatwl as follows : ragged wounds, or those produced by a nail, or blunt rusty iron, thus treated will be sure to heal, while otherwise they would be almost certain to produce lockjaw ; soak the wound in moderately strong lye— about half good wood-ash lye, and half soft water —until all stifl'ness departs and the swelling is reduced ; then cover it with the lees tf laudanum (laudanum sediment procurable from a druggist), and above that place a poultice made of corn meal. It is well to anoint the edges of the wound with castor oil. For a Boii., or Gathering, an excellent poultice is made by pounding the leaves of the common garden-pulse- which children pinch and blow to make bags of— with clean lard ; add a few drops of laud. .mi. For a Burn, a good poultice is made by pounding smooth the well-washed roots •f the swamp cat-tail; it gives almost instant relief. PouLTiciis are usually better for the addition of a littlo kweet or castor oil, and a few drops of laudanum. cid, for mineral acidi VALUABLE HOME K'NOIVLEDGE. e well-washed roots : or castor oil, and a 569 c'sz,r"" ^ ---- -'--/-nn;" -"lit lo chapping „e„ ,i„ j,,^^ j . ■ ■fiW. If h.iuls £„„> i. »i.h . ,„.. „„.,, po.,s,rs:;'Lt:k f : h :: i"- '-f ? ^ >■'"" with castor oil. ""^ '"'^^ "oufs and then dress ..»;S:,;.'"''" ''*°' '" «'"■"• • >■»"'« •' p»»«<'«' poi.= ™, ,„, „»„ „„ ,, w™, :sr:-r;zc:;T ""•"" "-■■ '"-" '- '>'i»'«o„., to the nostrils; when consciousness ,,'"„, ."•'"'' "'^P'>' ''^^'^'^"f" s^';^ - .n. BO not sZ^SeSr :ri;r " '^" ^ ""'^' - ^"'^ rub the feet and hands ' '° "'^ '^''" "PP'^ ^'"■"™'- "^ W.J4, »prnU:n He'Sr; fjitri''"; "■''" """"•" •"'"»• •"-"•«■■ ■ •- OH™.:;™ 'rr.s f,:: '-' t r '"■ '" *'-'" »^"' '»<■• gl'= warm ,e. „, 'ho, iLlZ" ' "" " ' '"""'"■ ""' '" •"•'■ "'" "=". "J . f c-r::ro;:::rr„H?rr;i tf, "■" °" *™ -^ ■"* - % - Fir of b,l,o. ,„ « h , 1 tt'"/ "'°""' f "'= " ">■"" "" f'P' ■"<> • —'"in-:?- »' ~- » =p^- .rs; :* r.:tr I- I! h 670 THE COMPLETE HOME. % ■ffiiS, , ,' ,-L; Antidotes for PoisoN.-Soda, salt, vinegar, chalk, raw eggs, mustard, sweet oH, .oap, and milk, are powerful remedies for poisons, and are in every house. Send for a aoctor, but do not wait for doctor or druggist: go to tvork. If the poison is an alkali, vmegar is a remedy. Freely drinking of new milk, continuing to drink even when the stomach returns the milk, will destroy even arsenic poisoning. If sulphuric or oxalic acid has been taken, swallow a quantity of chalk- the whites of raw eggs stirred up and swallowed, taking six, eight or more successively »s fast as possible, will destroy poisons, as corrosive sublimate; mustard, stirred in soft water and freely drunk, will cause vomiting and destroy poison. Any kind of oil, as olive, linseed or common lard oil, will also destroy poison. Phosphorus, as when children suck matches, give a tablespoon ful of magnesia and then freely gum arable water; less magnesia if only a little phosphorus is taken Opium, as laudanum poisoning, needs a strong emetic ; a tablespoonful , f mustard m a glass of warm water, or a half teaspoonful of powdered alum in as little water or coffee as will carry it down, and repeat the dose. Strychnine also demands very quick emetic, as above, or a heavy dose of ipecac Opium poison needs also friction, fanning, shaking, cold water on thq head, and all efforts to arouse the patient. Nitrate of Silver needs warm salt water until a free vomit. Ammonia taken raw by accident: give new milk, olive oil, ice in bits, bind icp on 'he throat. Sugar of Lead needs lemon juice, vinegar, raw tomatoes, and finally a gcd dose of Epsom salts. Prussic acid, or fruit-stone poisoning, demands a good emetic, and administer freely ammonia and water. Antimony is corrected by very strong green tea, and alum water. After all these remedies, empty the stomach by a clear, warm water emetic, and keep the patient in bed on a raw-egg diet for thirty hours. A WORD ON SEWERS. Sewers are our most dangerous conveniences. They breed diph- theria, fevers and eruptive diseases. Typhoid, and typhus, and yellow fever are the children of defective sewage. Sewers are, as yet, never absolutely well constructed; they are never in perfect order. If our own sewers are not dealing us out death, we may be sure that our neighbors' are bestowing ruin upon us; and even when we fancy all i? right, before the sentinels of nose and palate give a warning of poison, our atmosphere is loaded with spores of disease. What shall we do with our sewers ? Oh, trap the pipes? Well, the traps are in nine cases out of ten defective or out of order, and while the one set of pipes are trapped, the overflow pipe is not trapped, and who has given gas an injunction not to rise up through the over- flow pipe? Lie awake some night and listen, and a whistle like the eggs, musfard, sweet oH, 1 every house. Send for a i. If the poison is an continuing to drink even ic poisoning. I quantity of chalk; the jht or more successively afe; mustard, stirred in )y poison. Any kind of oison. jlespoonful of magnesia ;tle phosphorus is taken, ablespoouful (f mustard d alum in as little water a heavy dose of ipecac, ter on th? head, and all oil, ice in bits, bind ice and finally a gc -id dose emetic, and administer water. arm water emetic, and They breed diph- and typhus, and e. Sewers are, as ; never in perfect : death, we may be IS ; and even when and palate give a spores of disease, pipes? Well, the f order, and while 3e is no/ trapped, through the over- a whistle like the VALUABLE HOME KNOWLEDGE K>f, ow h,ss of a springing snake warns ,„„ ,ha, sewer-gos is ignoring the .ra,>s or ,s arriving .hrough ,he overflow pi,.. T,« dangl of sit -y be .hns s.a.ed. Many of onr wors. diseases arise fron,Z ^^ Our Uood is poisoned by our inhaling poisonous spores. T pores co„,e fro. decaying a„™a, or vegetable nrai.er! and •ren, the.r co„,pIe,e state contained in the bath and clothing-wash- «er, and the chanrber refuse of persons suffering fron, these lases. Our sewet, are constantly filled with animal and vegetable decav and w..h these refuse spores of disease. On the .Z, or l^l generated ,n sewers, these spores of poison rise fo penneate „ dwelltngs. Our sewers are not ventilated; therefore there is no escape for th.s poison-burdened air except into the houses by our own .ouse.p,pes the entire system of town sewers could be ventilated by ,„ean, of tall chimneys connected with furnaces and factories, the dangers of our sewer, would be greatly lessened, but these spores would stdl fall or light „W„„, therefore the ventilating c i ne" should be provtded mid-way with .ome apparatus which wo, Id hemtcally destroy the spores. No. only are sewers nnvent.lated, but they re subject to back or tide water, rising up along ,he,n and crowdmg back the volume of gas and foul air. which retreats up n he houses. The device for preventing the re-arising of s^^.J^ th ough the p,pes has been a trap; that is, a portion of the pipe J2 holds water rom half an inch to several inches depth, throu h w .. .s supposed that gas will not rise. But from these traps the water wate.- downward is so great that it su,,. o,., the trap, or the trap may be stphoned," as is betokened by a roaring sound in the dis- appearing water. Great storms, heavy rainfall, high tides, all press immense volumes of foul, death-dealing gas back on our dwellings, and our sole defence is a poor weak little trap of perhaps an inch depth, and subject to a dozen disasters. At sea one says with solemnity. Ihere .s but a plank between me and death;" but one sits and eats h,s dmner contentedly when there is but one inch of water between his whole household and death. Traj>s are also placed in t I it:. ■ W {,1 >i| I '1 672 THE COMPLETE HOME. the s reet ^nlets These, when deep and strong, offer resistance in such fashion, that the gas will run up into the houses with their weak traps before getting into the open air of the streets. Another trouble IS, that terra-cotta sewer-pipes are laid without being cemented together, and that builders, to save expense, put in very small, weak traps, and leave out the water-closet traps into the sewer in spite of the ordinance of prohibition. When you hear pipes and vents buhbkns, know that death is abroad. Let it rouse you like a tocsin for you have a worse than material enemy to fight. ' 1. Use for your basins and tubs frequently a strong solution of lye or caustic soda to cleanse pipes and traps. 2. Keep the window in the bath-closet open two inches at top and bottom, and the ,oor closed. See that the door fits tightly and has the cracks covered with strips of felt. 3- Morning and night run clear water into the basins to fill the trap. 4. Put the plug in the basin and half fill it when leaving it 5- Make a plaster of four-double wet paper, and stop over the overflow holes. Be careful to do this every night In villages and in the country people having an out-of-door water- closet should be sure to have— 1. A deep well-bricked vault. 2. A wooden pipe or chimney three by four inches in diameter, reaching from the vault through the roof of the closet, and high enough to carry gas away from the house. 3- Take heed that this pipe is not near or level with your bed- room windows. ' 4. Have well-fitted covers to the closet seats; a window in each kelplut' "'' '"''' "' ' ""■'^'' °" ''' ^°°^ ^° "^^^ •' *''^ Ren.c.nber that a drain where wash-water and bath-water are t uown >s .anscrous, being ful, of decaying animal matter. Cleanse l: the ;::i^'^-^ -^ ^'^'^^' -' '-- ^ ^-"- -•• -^ -pty f. Kemember that the drain-pipe from your dish-water sink u very er resistance in with their weak Another trouble )eing cemented cry small, weak ewer in spite of ipes and vents )u like a tocsin, solution of lye ches at top and tightly and has sins to fill the 'ing it. stop over the of-door water- VALUABLE HOME KNOWLEDGE. 673 dangerous, as holding decaying animal and vegetable matter Let it carry off its water from the house and cleanse it daily weekly using lye or strong potash water. ^ Here ended the collections from her journals and various papers made at our earnest request, by our Town and Family Oracle We have given them with little alteration as a thinking woman's view, of that which IS woman's widest kingdom and her highest sphere. The Editor— ]vLiK McNair Wright. ' in diameter, set, and high ith your bed- idow in each so that it will Uh-watcr are ter. Cleanse ind empty far sink is very ' fjf*^ INDEX. A. PACK Accidents, how to meet 217 " not to be punished 100 Accounts, how to keep 397 Affection, in family 382 Agur's Prayer 388 Ammonia, uses of 85 Apples, how to hake 145 Architects, of the future 286 " Jewish 499 Art, study of 33 Aunts, maiden 374 Aunt Sophronia 1 1 Atoms, of disease 126, 127 Attics, care of. 1 23 B. Babes, food for 94, 133 " toys for 133 " first training 94 " " Cross on Monday " 356 Baliy-carts, dangers of 92 Baths 136 Beauty, a gift of God 112 " how to create 112 " in the family 112 " cash value of. 155 " in dre-.s . 43» Beautifying a window 168 Bed rooms, Norman 506 " location 517 Beds, care of , |,» Beef, how not to cook 421 " best way to roast 147 Bible religion 243 ... .,,,-.,^5^ jjj , , , , 1^7 Birthdays, how to keep 379 Blood-vessfl, cisttinj a 32a (574) tAoa Books lyi " where to have 206, 208 " for children 197 " and criminals 216 Boys, in the street 283 " playmates 289 " tools 115 " work 180 Bread, for breakfast 67 " sauce 67 Brooms, how to take care of. 455 Burns, magic cure foi- 225 Butter and milk, to keep 82 Building a house 516 Botanical knowledge 28 C. Cake, cream 359 Calico, dare to wear 59 Capital on which to marry 16, 20 Carpets, care of 354 " buying '. 463 Celibacy, when a virtue 23 Cellars 134 Celtic Homes 496 Celts, habits of 497 " character of 495 Centre-piece, for table 159 Chair, how to make 464 Charity, p.nyment of 73 " to gain time for 48 Cheese and parsley 66 Choking, a remedy 234 Children, overwork 93 " and company 32a •■ mischicvriu^ness iSS " in the family 362,87 •* manncrs....323, 97, 450, 378 •l^^i INDEX. fAoa «7« 206, 208 197 216 283 289 I'S i8o 67 67 ;afeof. 4SS 225 ep 82 516 28 3S9 59 any 16, 30 3S4 •••'• 463 e 23 124 496 497 495 «59 464 73 >r 48 66 234 93 y 322 iess iSS ' 362.87 323. 97. 450. 37* PAGR 194 cliickens buying papers Chimneys, how to build r^g Christian home ^ Christmas, keeping .jj Cicero's precept as to money 3^9 Cisterns, with filter ,,, r^u Civility ... ciosetl :::::::;:::::;::::. fis Clothes, old 575 E. Earnings and Savings *|" Ear-rincs "-^r^y---; 63,65,390 and young couples 28 in the old world Education, as cowards 74 236 among Saxons ^q^ Egg, how to poach " "'ashing.... ., J Emergences, how to meet ., " to prepare for wash. \ '. '. \ p'"*-'''^"" °" «""'' "''^""<-'f^ 308 Coal oil, care of. „^ I^ngagements, length of. 3, r„fr„.. „.-! ■ ^^" Etiquette, hnnl,-.; r,n Coffee, making Color, in dress., Comfort, an aim Convers.ation, manners in. .312, 483, 311 Cooking for sick ' , . utensils of the Romans... 49, Croup, to prevent ,g" " to cure.. . . Crimes and errors 74 434 165 quette, hooks on. Eveni ng reading ^oS est Evil reading. 142 9S Example, force of Exercise Extravagance " portrait of. , Eyes, care of . . . . 182 .... 215 .... 2S7 •••• «3S •365, 395 .... 396 162 D. 93 368 •25. 389.399 Daughters,,carps of eldest " in-law licbts * Drowning in a well Decision, with servants. .. Ukkens' fust love I*inner-tal)l " party Dinners without wines . Discouraging a man. Disease, taken in lime., " of house-plants result of carelessne.ss iig Diseases, cau.es of nervous qo Disorder ,,' '„ ^ r. ... •• 37.40, 46 iJog-hite, remedy for jjjl Drainage and ventilation Dress, rules for I ""'"''^"l"'....."."." 4,7.4,6 ''""<^^»ty ^j_^ " of Romans " for large and small people.. . 434 " hints on I>r««nB the hair '.'.■!.■ .^Vj. 4,9 F. 23 » 216 Falls, accidents hy Family hook-fund. " book-keeping ,„_ Farmers and newspapers 223 j Farmhouse, order in 4S4 " meals in 196 Farm. lands, more productive "- "^"•^'"'^"" '59 I Fashion and common-sense! " for children Feet, care of, 474 477 467 141 479 125 434 . ... 193 .... 52 321 .... 152 .... 417 . .. 427 426, 134 Filter, how to make a ' .,5 Fire, acci.Ients by "'„,/; 226 230 " fighting a fires, guardmg against ,,§ Fire-places, value of Fire-screens, h.indsome Fish, how to serve Flannel, use of Food and sleep " for invalids ,_ _ " for young children " in p.-"rir.f-;ha! times Foreign housekeeping Foresight in housekeeping .,!.'. French coffee «38 169 476 120 345 »44 '32 488 75 47a 75 : ■ 676 INDEX. PAGE Fretting ,33 Friendship in home 2S3 of men and women. 301, 310 Frizzes for the hair 418 Fruit, how to frost for dessert 359 Fuel, saving in yg Furnaces , j _ Furniture, early English 509 " how to buy i(5j " for a sick-room 13S harmony in ^gj making one's own 464 rustic £21 G. Gardens and arranging them 521 Garrets, how to care for 123 Germs of disease 12c Glass in the eye, rem-dy for 231 " paper for polishing 349 Gowns, to make over 5- Guthrie, Dr., on Manners 313 " " " Book of Proverbs. 213 H. ■< u tt Honesty, and eye service 449 " varieties in 40 Hospitality, a duty 269 " in the home 262 " Biblical instances of. .. 269 " varieties in 262,268 " remark.ible case of.275, 27J " among the Afgh.ins ... 2S1 " poor... 273, 276 Hour-glass stand, how to make 464 Housc-cleaning, how to do 31 Housekeeping, a fine art 26 " every girl's trade 190 " and scholarbhip 27 " value of knowledge of 26 House-plants, care of. 4-9 House-work, how to make easy 38 " how to systematize .. . 53 Houses, to make healthful 128 Hugh Miller's first library ig6 214 Hair-dressing 4,3, 4,9 Ham, ornamenting a \(^ Hanging-lamp, novel use of. 159 Hard times, how to meet 58 Head, needs a screen 426 Health, before carpets 121 " in children 129 " essential to happiness in home 23 -lo'idays 184 " among Romans 494 Home, a centre of activity 176 " decorations for j 70 " manners 128 " festivals v,a its cash basis igg making, capacity for 30 books iQ2 its corner-stone 20 " and lervants 498 " made happy jgj " " hateful... 29 Honesty, ill dicss 417 •• in children 104 Icelanders' love of books Idea, people of one ^.x Ideal of a home *. .. . 257 Immortality of the home 51 j 61 171 II II II II Income, how to meet a reduced Industry at home " made to pay i^g Indian wigwams r ,0 Infection, to escape 1 jg Indolence, a cause of disease 1S5 Insanity, its causes ^32 Iron utensils, how to clean 150 J. Jenn Ingelow on Unity jgo Jouberl's precept on Money 389 " Jumping in a bucket " ya K. Kettles, removing iron taste of.. , . . 556 Kitchen, made beautiful 166 " conveniences in 450 " furniture of 462 " economizing in 49 Kindling-wood 227 Knives, to clean 347 PAGB service 445 in 40 ■ 269 home 262 il instances of. . . 269 <-'s in 262, 268 J8 f disease 1S5 332 clean ^50 • 'y 380 Money 380 ='" 72 n taste of. ... . 556 ful 166 9 in 450 462 in 49 337 347 f^DEX. L. 677 Labor, change of, a rest.. 'T f M , • Lace and embroidery ,0 vV i ^ , ' ^"^ ^™^ f°r ■ • • • Lace curtains, to do u ' '' ^5 Meat, salad of. 3^=3 1 -ICT I " < 147 'o preserve. a dressing for cold. Si Late suppers -557 Laying up money '^^'^ , o -- ^...^ Legs, crooke,lncss of' i„ "dn-'l ", ^^^ !!'"'°'"'' *'"*^'" '.' f^ Liberality pnys wen '"•• '-^^ Medicine "4 Life, how shortened.'." ." ' "^"^ ^^'^^hod. of work ] " ' "_ ';J' Lightness in dress "^ " " '''^'igious training \^^ Literature in the home.'.".' ^f Ur !', ^''""■'^<^''^. of ftnanciedng 1c' " "eating a taste VoV '92 Mistakes of p.^.-ents "^ '5 nf .• ^1 *^''^ '^°^ '98 Mistresses and mai.ls ^^ 3'M " over-pa.,icui;;.;'. ^J^^ Y-^:z:zz:ZT'- ir°::^'-'^^!^-'-'ii^:::::::::: 'i 330 of impudence Longevity Lord Bacon's precept Love of money '^^^ " in the home.".".';.' ^^^ Love-story, a little '° Luncheon, how to prepare '*'*' i^ye-w.ater, its use... young gill 5 Mammon-worship.Ksn/eaniies;:.'. 40, Man and wife, unity of. ' 1?^ Man Alanii agenient, good , er-S at meals. j6l 460 321 C",t.v.„ecnildren's..,97.;,, of young people.... ^,^ [ to servants and children. 3,4 -merson on ,„^ ndv.cetoaboyon.. ^.^ ;; ''oyishat,.-,ckso^r,ad....' 309 oooks on . ^ Marriage eng.igements .'.'.".'.".".■.■■.■■ ^!, among S.axons... '' " *»'''«l'lengc for... !.'.""" ^ of widowers impediments to'.','.'.'.','.' "2,^2"^ wrong motives for..!.' ^ without money " girl's best nnHi;,n fi-.r" 404 three precepts on ." ' ' g^ how to obtain • • J J " .. ,,ive , ^5* •• "Z. ''"'^^'-^^ " "^p-"-''"^''::::'ioa a home-builder ao(, should be earned " advice to a boy on! Morals and religion... 'Morning, reading in Mothers' care for child're."," " Moll 'iprs-in-law. 407 409 23S 208 94 Masters and Match employes, rights of., es, careless use of. Matting, for bed «7 rooms. • 24 25 ^< 55 i N'apki 60 229 133] Molhcrs' meeting!!."!!!.'!!! ^^^ their need of re.ading!'" ill contmriing power of... " their w(,rtli.... ^t " step.. ;,■ 336 „, ■ ■■ 372. 374. 375 old age of. . „„ ■■ Music in home ^'°' ^^i " "'"lyof.. ..!!!!! '^^'^ Mortgages ... •'•' 404 N. ^•••pkms, bow to make pretty Nation, its wealth Natural history, love of Natural objects in a home!."" fi lif 678 INDEX. I. Need and pride 62 Newspapers 114 " value of 192 Normans, customs of . . 507 " bouses of 505 Nurses, duties of 140 " dress of 140 " English 96 Nurse-maids 91 " " what to require of 94 " model for 189 Obedience, of children 98 " a foundation stone 1 17 Occupation, of patriarchs 487 " danger of changing. . . , 398 OflTflrs of marriage 12 Oil-cloth, how to clean 347 Old clothes 518 Old-fashioned courtesies 323 Order, in individuals 51 " " Home 32 " " farmhouse .. 52 " " a great time-saver. .... 36 Ornament, for centre of table 159 Ornaments, for country home 151 Oriental fashions 420 " hospitality 48S Outlays, how to govern 59 P. Pninted-glass 169 Panlrics, neatness in 82 Piper carpets, to make 465 Paper, for cleaning 349 Parents, mistakes of 87 " responsibility of 381 " cares of 286 " vigilance of 259 Parlor 162, 124 " its origin S°^ Patience, )iow to teach 89 Pitrinrchal life 485 Pi'nurinusness 300 Physitnl culture 1 19 Piety .-liiii pauperism 247 Flan, how to work 40 rAGk Plato 512 Playthings, improper 467, 468 Poisons, in cloth dyes 235 " and antidotes 235 Politeness, to mothers 324 " French. 313 " to servants 450 " life's small change 314 Potatoes, how to cook 476 Pot-closets 127 Pots, shells for cleaning 348 Pounds and pence 56 Poverty and extravagance 388 Power, of beauty 168 Praise, an incentive 453 Prejudice, against step-mothers 377 Presence of mind 217 ." " " in a child 221 " " " how to cultivate. . 237 " " " Dr. John Brown on. 218 Preserving clean speech loi Pride, a master 62 Princesses as cooks 488 Progress, to Heaven 366 Prudence 393 Property, four rules for getting 392 Punctuality 468 Q. Quail, broiled 537 Queen's toast 542 Quiet, to cultivate 89 " for children 90 R Rags, in kitcnen 127 " uses of 518 Reading aloud 481 •• of novels 2or <• its advantages 207 " for Sabbath 204 Rend, how to 210, 213 " when to 205, 207 " what to I99t 201 Heading, how to procure 194 " for children 197. '98 .-vcuuiti^, niipr"j-?r -"j, -"-J Reason, in dress 4'^ 512 467.468 23s 235 324 313 450 change 314 476 127 g 348 S6 ince 388 168 453 -mothers 377 217 chilli 221 to cultivate. . 237 )hn Brown on. 218 ;h loi 62 488 366 393 r getting..... 392 468 . 537 542 89 90 127 518 481 20t ss 207 204 210, 213 205, 207 199, 201 ire 194 197. '98 ,,203,205 416 INDEX. 67& PAGE 34« Reason in work Refrigerator, a home-made .' "'g^ Regularity Religion and crime. ..... " thrift \ " in the home " a basis of laws. . Religious insanity •••• 53 .... 244 .... 248 .233,249 241 332 principle 20 Remedy for choking 234 " for dulness ,38 Ribbons and jewelry Responsibility of mothers " ." * 286 Rest, obtained by change ,. , Ro.isting meat, a new way of. . .' .',' 147 Roman dinners... ^'''^^'y 49, ^ " ^°"^« 4S9 Kooms to sweep. ... „ ,, o53 1 P''!'" 519.520 " " furnish ' " " '^^^^iify ." 162 " for servants Rudeness, in sm.ill th f-P-'-'^^ 202.7;; .Scrapel, to make ^^ Screaming, evil of " " " J.^ Secret, of hard times ici of home happiness ^g, of success in housekeeping, between man and wife . . . " a bride's fatal " purchases " of a criminal " in the family -,(J. Seamstress, wages of " views of. . . 478 361 366 367 364 .<'S 186 58 29 '03 449 ^ , "igs 328 Kules, for money making ^qO every woman should be Selfishness, in children in hospitality 262 Self-forgelting , Seneca on education Servants reading. 210 " " dressing well ^^^ Rust, to remove Rustic furniture .^i Reverence ' , Sabbath, how to secure rest ig. Salad, how to make * ' , .- " dressing for " g " for fish ■■■ ,,, 476 5'3 335 71 ^7 64 120 Sauvestre oa the Home.., Saving of resting " aimlessly " and spending ._ 'g " cents " time _ Saxon babies " cooks •• food [][' " houses " tombs . .. 390 337. 305 ... 502 501 501 499 498 Science, cultivate love for igg 214 their friends. . . ... , , 445 .'^•'""S'^^f 439 in palriaichal days jgr how many to keep ^/. wages " breakages .Shoes, thickness of Sewing, family Sick, to visit the. . . '"./:_ .'McUness in the family , ,}j .Sick-room ' ",Vb' . ,, 138, 140 " note-book , . Silk dress, its cost / a. Silver, care of Sinks, care of Sisters, politeness to [ Situ,ition for a house Sleep, a restorer " of children Sleeplessness, cure of Social culture Soup relish Sports, for boys and girls Slate and religion -Step mother's position Study, for a yuuiig wife for Saturday evening. . . " of music and art 61 • 350 . 186 • 324 S16 344 131 14M 327 66 '36 339 374 34 206 33 L'.ffrfif'i ! .k{^ . iiiki It f_fti 580 INDEX. PAGB Study, what we should 21k, 32 Sugar, how to save 457 Summer, diseases of 02 Sumptuary laws 4^1 Sunshine, a health-keeper 121 Suiistrol-- - "^ Cakes, ginger crackers . . '*"? " gold '.".'.'."."" " hickory nut '.*.[ ^'^ " ice-cream..., ^'^ " j^""yLind.. ..!.*;;;;;;;;; ^jj " matrimonies .. •"•545 molasses doughnuts, measure M S4S 545 544 rs. Holmes' liberty r.. pork ** ^^^ pound cake, puir 544 544 544 puffs, Chicago... iZ <->erman queen's Shrewsbury. . . sponge sweet crackers , silver tout fait. . 548 545 544 544 546 544 white fruit... wafers, widow's. 545 546 ng at the nose to stop. . . ." rgs ^'""'^ '''/' cuUure of ^f^ Boils and burns, poultices for. ' " r6q Calicoes, washing ^ ' ""-' *■ - - • ■ ■ " ■ ' ' Candy, how to make'.'. ' ' V "f 55' 553 Bread, how to make excellent " brown., " pudding Breakfast, a dish for. .'.'.'.' ,' ^'^^ Brushes, to wash hair. ." .".'*.'" „^ Butler sauce " Butterscotch. ^^' 555 Cabbage, cooking Cakes, apple short ^^'^ black fruit..'. ^'^f clove. 546, chocolate marble. .tt , fruit ;•• 5^5j feather.... " = ' " " " •^^■^' S45 I 544 gmgerbread, thin 3^ caramels " chocolate " cocoanut balls!.'!.'.* fruit, a delicious... " molasses " peanut " sugar Candied fruits Carrots for dinner ',*.'.". Chamomile, value of. .'.".'.'.'.". „g Chapped hands "_" \ l^ Chicken dressed as terrapin! ! !!! ! ! '. 53^ panada ' p..,,,. P'"''''"S 536 Chilblains, remedy for ,L 555. 556 555 556 S5S 555 555 555 555 555 556 683 INDEX. Chocolate, preparation of. 542 " marble cake 545 Cleaning, geniiral recipes for 556 Cloth, to clean black 558 Clothes, to restore color to white.. , 558 Nothing, preserving color of 558 Coffee, how to make 552 Cough remedies 569 Crackers, sweec and ginger 546 Cream of tartar drink 554 Croquettes 543 Cucumbers, treatment of. 541 Curry..., 535 Diphtheria, treatment of, , . 566 Dish- washing, directions for. 557 Dog-bite, treatment of 568 Diawn butter 550 Dried beef gravy 550 Drowning, suffocation by 569 Duck, salmi of wild 537 Dyspepsia, raw eggs for 554 Dumplings, marrow . . . . , 543 E. Earache, remedy for 567 ^gg cream 553 " plant, squash, spinach to cook. 540 Eggs au gr,itin 542 " baked 543 " scalloped 542 " scrambled 543 Embroidery, setting the color of. ... 556 Excellent cakes 544, 545 Eye, neuralg.a of 566 . Face, eruptions on the 566 Fainting, treatment of 569 Fish-balls, Boston 538 " cod, roasted 537 " trout, boiled 537 " Miss Dods' way of boiling 535 " sauce 551 Fowl, boiling 536 FAca Furniture, to remove spots from.. . . 558 Frost-bites, simple remedy for 567 Felon, cure for 569 Frozen person, care of 569 Frying and roasting 538 G. Game, broiled quail K,y] " salmi of wild duck 537 " to preserve dead 560 Glass globes, cleaning 556 5S9 " cement for. Fur. to clean white . Flummery 548 j Gloves, best cleaner of. 556 Grease spots, to remove 558 Gruel, how to make 553 Glycerine, uses of 369 H. Ham balls , 535 Hash, scotch 535 Hoarseness, to cure 567 Home amusements 561, 563 House-plants, care of 561 Household conveniences 560 Hysterics, remed) for 566 I. Imprrtant recipes 551 Ind gestion, seizure of 569 Indigo, recipe for 559 Infants, dried flour for 554 Ink sti-iins to er.ase 558 Insects, to destroy 558 Invalids, articles suggested for.. 553, 554 K. Kettles, removing iron taste of., ... 556 L. Lemonade, how to make 553 Lightning, person struck by 569 Laborers, best drink for 568 Lime water and its uses 559 Linen clothing, preserving color of. 558 M. Mats for the table, to make 559 Meat, to preserve e6» Meats, tish and game 534 < n INDEX. FAGI spots from.. .. 558 medy for 567 569 'f 569 538 '537 duck 537 ;ad 560 \ 556 559 f- 556 ve 558 553 369 535 535 567 561,563 561 CCS 560 566 55' 569 559 r 554 558 558 estedfor..SS3, 554 I taste of.. ... 556 'r 568 es 559 ving color of. 558 nake 559 , 563 534 Mustard, French. PACB 550 N. Nose, remedy for bleeding at the.. . 568 O. Oatmeal, the value and uses of. i;6o gruel Sauce, bread . " butter. preparation -41 Oleander bugs ' ,£. 554 541 561 Onions, cooking T^ Oysters, fried and stewed * ." 538 Paint to remove Panada macaroni and patties 538 P. 558 554 583 PACK • 551 ■ 551 ■ 55' • 550 550 550 55 1 550 549 550 Sewing and mending, hinis' on'. ".563, S! Silk, to clean black \X " how to wash .".'.,".".'."." 557 Sleep, to insure ' " J Tuit-juce carrot for roast beef. favorite fish foaming lobster soyer. Stewards' .... Plants, treatment of weekly 55, Sewers, how to guard against dangers care of house 561 " soil for pot c6i " lice, to destroy ^61 Pies and puddinsrs.. .. of. 571 Stoves, biacking .L Smok ing meat, arrangement for. , Stains in white goods, to remove, 560 558 lemon, and raisin ^ Suffocation by drowning or hangi^". cL parsniD „ Soun<: r,if>„ u.,-j *■ S- i"9 548 549 " parsnip " i^erfect Poisons, antidotes for .jq Pork, boiled salt Pone, hotel J, Prune whip " ' ' _' ^"''^ Puddings, apple " '. ^^° " '^--d "■■■.■.■.■548 •••• 547 .... 548 .... 548 I •••• 547 549 .... 549 .... 546 .... 547 .... 550 ••• 543 « M carrot cheap cottage, baked. Dorchester dessert dark steamed . . plum snow sauce Yorkshire. . Soups, calf 's-head ^^ " French "J " Murphy ;;;; j^j " Mr. Gomez's pea ci, 534 Scotch broth, veal, economical. 533 open. T. 547 Tarts Tablecloths, worn-out cg^ Tea, how to make Teeth, preparation for the, Throat, cure of sore. . . 552 558 567 Rice R. cream . boiled properly 553 i^.ujji.,,^ ^ Relish for breakfast.... "" ^T, Tidies, washing -,g Tongue, toast ' * . . Turkey, ragout of 536 " stewed 543 536 536 540 Riljbons 542 ns and silk, cleaning of 558 !■:•■", a few .impie 506 Kust stains, removing ,-g Vegetables, barley " bean polenta ^4^ " cabbage " carrots " corn, hidjed " cucumbers 539 539 539 541 tgg-plant 340 584 INDEX. PAGE Vegetables, onions ^^g " potatoes for breakfast. . 540 " " au cr£me 540 " " fried sweet . . . 540 " rice, to boil properly. . , . 540 " tomatoes 540 ''^oroiting, tr«,«*ment of severe 566 W. Walls, smoke-stained Wliite worms in soil Wounds, treatment of Writing, to restore faded ** Y. Yeast, hop Yorkshire pudding. . . , „. .*.' * PAGB 557 561 568 559 5S3 54J H pptiaKL 1 r HI ■■Ull t -'hx. 1 Wr 1 lit* w 557 568 559 5Sa 543