58 Thirty-Sixth Annual Report of the 



one would have ventured to step within until he had first wiped 

 his feet on the husk mat that Margaret had woven with her own 

 hands. There was a braided rug' upon the floor, and an old- 

 fashioned rocker with a feather cushion. On the little log- window 

 sill was a pot of plants that Margaret had brought from her 

 eastern home, and the snowy muslin curtains were bits of her 

 wedding dress. There was a cheery picture on the wall and a 

 mending basket that gave an added charm to the room. 



I don't believe John ever put on a pair of socks that had not 

 been darned with all the painstaking care given to the finest 

 embroidery. There was a little pine table, so fair and spotless 

 that I used to wonder if it would melt away into fairyland should 

 I put my childish finger on it. And above the table were some 

 little shelves — put there by John, to hold the few dishes they 

 owned. Do you think Margaret carelessly dumped those dishes 

 in a pan and hastily banged them about regardless of nick or 

 crack? No, she handled them with tender care. She was John's 

 faithful, loving wife and well knew they could not afiford to 

 waste money replacing things broken by carelessness. Nor did 

 she wish to see their table, however plain, made poorer or un- 

 sightly by chipped and blemished ware. 



And there was dainty, refined Margaret and sturdy John, 

 who had in no wise ceased to be a lover while bearing the title 

 of husband. Yes, it was the most beautiful home I have ever 

 seen, for it contained the necessary elements to make it such. 

 There was cleanliness, system and order. There was unselfish- 

 ness, contentment and love. What more do you want? With 

 these elements you could make an acceptable home out of a dry 

 goods box. I have since been in a number of beautiful dwellings, 

 where there was marble and tiling, elaborately carved wood and 

 artistic frescoing, antique rugs and luxurious furnishings, rich 

 draperies and magnificent paintings, rare bric-a-brac and ex- 

 quisite statuary, but I have never been in a home that left so 

 marked an impression upon my heart and brain as did that little 

 pioneer hut on the border of an Iowa prairie. 



FURNISHING A FARM HOUSE. 



In furnishing a home we farm women too often seek to 

 imitate a style quite unsuited to our conditions and surroundings. 

 For instance, the large, heavy carpets, that in the city would be 

 sent away to be cleaned, would prove a formidable tax on 

 woman's strength ; and it would indeed be a brave housewife 

 whose courage would admit of asking assistance from the men 

 during the stress of spring work. Hardwood and painted floors 

 with rugs of a size easily handled are more in keeping with farm 



