California Agriculturist and Live Stock Journal. 



heater wouKl have been oil the stove getting 

 hot ; then, while the dishes were being washed 

 the irons would be heating, and as soon as 

 the sweeping and dusting were through with 

 the ironing would have been completed in 

 one-third the time that Nora's was. I don't 

 see why more women don't think of these 

 things, and try managing right. — Carrie Lee 

 in Oin. Times. 



Recipes from "Jewell." 



Ceeam Ckisps. — Take a pint of graham 

 flour and mix with two table spoonsfull 

 sour cream and water enough to make a 

 dough, roll and cut in diamonds, crossing 

 with a knife on top, bake and eat warm or 

 cold — delicious. 



How TO Gkt the Seeds out of Gkapes when 

 Canning. — Put your grapes, after washing 

 and pulling from the stems, in a milk pan 

 with a little water, cover, and let them scald 

 when they will burst ; then take them off and 

 seating yourself, take a large spoon and 

 stir gently and shake up from the bottom, 

 when the seeds will drop out and you can dip 

 with the spoon from the top into another pan, 

 return to the fire and when boiling can. 



Ladies Fingeks, — One-half pound of pow- 

 dered sugar, one-fourth pound of flour, four 

 eggs, whites and yolks beaten separately and 

 very stiff. Drop upon buttered writing paper 

 in long nan-ow cakes, and not too close — 

 bake to a light brown. Try one and if it runs, 

 beat a while longer and add more flour. 



Kisses. — Beat the whites of four eggs, add 

 four cups of powdered sugar slowly, season 

 with lemon, dip wiiting paper in very cold 

 ■water and drop the mixture on not too close ; 

 try one and if not stiff enough, beat a little 

 longer and add more sugar ; bake to a light 

 brown. 



I will add also the following, selected from 

 my months reading of other journals : 



To Cook Mdtton. — Every week or two we 

 ki!l a mutton. I roast it all. I put it in the 

 oven in a large bakepan, put it in water, cook 

 till eleven ; turn it over twice ; everyone who 

 eats a mutton here says it is the best they 

 ever ate. At eleven o'clock take out the mut- 

 ton, fill the pan full of potatoes and bake 

 them, thicken the gravy, and you need little 

 else for a dinner fit for a — well, anybody. 

 Kings are no better than we are. 



To Preserve Lemons Fresh. — Slice them 

 as thin as possible, and put into a nice sweet 

 jar wfth alternate layers of sugar and lemon ; 

 remove all the seeds, have each layer entirely 

 covered with sugar ; tie a thick cloth over the 

 jar before putting the cover on, so as to ex- 

 clude all the air. I have kept them perfectly 

 fresh for a year in this way. 



To Bake Ham. — Most people boil ham. It 

 is much better baked, if baked right. Souk 

 for an hour in clean water and wipe dry. 

 Next spread it all over with thin butter and 

 then put it in a deep dish with sticks under it 

 to keep it out of the gravy. When it is fully 

 done take off the skin and matters crusted on 

 the flesh side and set away to cool. 



For Skirts, etc. — Place two ounces of fine 

 white gum arable powder in a pitcher and 

 ])our on it a jiint of water ; then cover and 

 let it stand all night. In the morning pour it 

 carefull}' from the dregs into a clean bottle 

 and cork it and keep for use. A teaspoonful 

 of gum water stirred in a pint of starch made 

 in the usual manner, will give to lawns, either 

 white or printed, a look of newness when 

 nothing else can restore them after they are 



Four and Twenty Different Birds 

 Baked In a Pie. 



[The namps of twenty-four birds are found in tlie 

 following liueB:] 



"' ? N old woman went to the mart In haeto 

 In a scarlet cape, a cocked hat laced. 

 In her hand a crook; and she said, " Well, I 



say. 

 How lucky it is this is market day!" 



She had over two miles from her home to speed. 

 And with awkward stepH she went fast, indied. 

 " My sons want a pin as larue art can bo, 

 And a bravo, noble pie they bhall have," quoth 

 she. 



She, In a panic, ran ever so quickly. 



Where the ground with rushes was coverod thickly; 



So quick, I tell you, she ran that she 



Fell in nettles quite up tu the knee. 



Just where one can a rye-field espy, 

 And through the oak-tree a gleam of blue sky. 

 There fell the dame — " liitter nuts, I must sayl 

 Who thought of laming one's self in this way?" 



Her heArt did throb in dismay and fear, 

 A fall doth befall conceit, that is clear. 

 This comes of being roused, for vanity's Bake, 

 A regular kingly party to make. 



At length up she scrambled. How rent was her gown! 



" Too late, all too late I shall be in the town? 



To go, O severely my letis it will try, 



Yet a parsnip, eggs, bacon and birds I must buyl" 



However, she managed to hobble away, 

 And for twenty-four birds her money did pay; 

 In a wonderful pie then the birds she did cook. 

 You will find all their names in these lines. If you 

 look' 



— [Youth's Companion. 

 1 m p 



Letters From the roung Folks. 



Dear Uncle Ben: — Maybe I'm not too old to 

 write to you, though I had much rather the 

 space allotted to the "Boys and Girls" be 

 filled with letters from their own hands. By 

 making your request known among the 

 young folks, two letters have come to hand 

 to be forwarded to you with the promise of 

 more. Think of a boy of twelve receiving 

 twenty dollars a month for five months steady 

 employment, to enable him to assist his wid- 

 owed mother and her younger children! I 

 promised to see that he received a copy of 

 the paper containing his letter to encourage 

 him in writing again, knowing that improve- 

 ment to the young folks is your chief aim in 

 inviting their correspondence. Hoping the 

 children in your vicinity are anxious to fol- 

 low the example so nobly set for them, and 

 that they will continue to swell the column 

 devoted to them to its utmost limits, I am 

 ever your friend and well-wisher, W. 



Santa Cruz, Sept., 1875. 



Dear Uncle Ben : — I am glad that you want 

 all the little children to write to you. I am 

 a little boy twelve years old. I have been 

 working for this Flume camp for five months. 

 There are some very high trestle-works here. 

 The highest place is ninety feet; and there 

 are some very deep cuts in the ground. 



I help the cook. I have to cut all the wood 

 that he burns. I and my brother work to get 

 money to support my mother and my other 

 younger brothers stay at homa. This is all I 

 can say this time. George A. Notlex. 



^ear Uncle Ben : — Mamma says you like to 

 have little girls and boys write to you, so I 

 thought I would tell you about camping out. 

 Sometimes I go paddling in the flume. Some- 

 times, when other little girls and boys come 

 to see me, we all go paddling in the San Lo- 

 renzo creek. My pa[>a works on the Flume. 

 One day we all had a long ride in it; it was 

 nice fun. I like to camp out because I don't 

 have so many dishes to wash. I ,\m nine 

 years old, but I can't write very good because 

 I never went to school only three m(mths. I 

 say niy lessons to uiy niaimiia now. There is 

 one little girl and three little boys that come 

 to our camp, and mamma hears their lessons, 



too. My auntie's horse stepped on my foot. 

 At first I thought I was most dead, but it's 

 got most well again. Cant stop to write any 

 more this time. Good-bye. From 



May E. Peekins. 

 Flume Camp, near Felton. 



Dear Uncle Ben: — I don't know how to 

 write for a paper. I am a country boy now, 

 used to live in town. I like the country now 

 better than when I first left the town. I do 

 not see so many people now, but have got 

 used to it, and think it real nice to learn all 

 about horses, and cows, and pigs and things. 

 I have given a name to every one of them, 

 and they seem to know their names. To me 

 they are all like so many people. They aU 

 have different dispositions, too, and are just 

 as much like folks as anybody. 



I want to tell you about old Dingy and her 

 calf Spriggy. Spriggy and I have lots of fun 

 running around the corral. Old mother Din- 

 gy is between a red and yellow sort of faded 

 out color, but she is a kind old cow and gives 

 rich milk. We never let her calf suck at all, 

 but make it drink. It learned by sucking our 

 fingers in a pail of milk. I milk old Dingy, 

 aud she thinks I am her calf. She will moo 

 after me and lick my coat-sleeve when I go 

 to her to milk her. The little bossy, Spriggy, 

 thinks I am his mother ! I always feed him 

 now. 



I have budded some rose-bushes and they 

 are alive. Next Spring 1 am going to learn 

 how to graft our orchard. I could tell you 

 lots more about a heap of things. I will be 

 thirteen next month. I go to school seven 

 months in the year, and ride a horse to 

 school. Goodbye. Harey. 



My Dear Uncle Ben :—l thought I would 

 write to let you know how we are getting 

 along. We are all well except my youngest 

 brother, who has the toothache. We had a 

 great time the other night getting a coon out 

 of a tree, but not until he had killed three 

 chickens. My father got the gun and culled 

 us up; wc hela the light and he shot it 

 through the head. This makes three he has 

 killed in the dooryard. The dogs like the 

 fun, after the coons are half dead, to shako 

 them. We have a fine lot of water-melons. 

 They go very good, as we have no other fruit. 

 We received those copy-books the day our 

 school closed. Many thanks from us all. I 

 had thirteen head-marks; the rest had six. 

 We are all going up on the side of a moun- 

 tain to get a load of fossil shells for our 

 chickens. I wish you were here to go wi(h 

 us. I know you would kill a deer, besides lots 

 of other game. My father is almost ready {'• 

 start, so I «uust close. Goodbye for this 

 time. Lyman Ross. 



LoMPOc, Sept. 6th. 



Little Folks' Dictionary. 



A writer in the Schoolday Mwjazine has gatli- 

 ered together the following dictionary wonls, 

 as defined by certain small people hero and 

 there : 



Back-biter — a flea. 



Bed-time — Shut-eye time. 



Dust — Mud with the juice all squeezed out. 



Fan — X thing to brush the warm oft' with. 



Fins — A fish's wings. 



Ice — Water that stayed out in the cold aud 

 went to sleep. 



Monkey — A very little boy with a tail. 



Nest-egg — The egg that the old heu meas- 

 ures by to make new ones, 



Pig — A hog's little boy. 



Salt — What makes your potatoes taste bad 

 when you don't put it on. 



Snoring— Ijetting off sleep. 



Snow — Rain nil popped out white. 



Stars --The moon's eggs. 



Trunk (of an elephant) — His front fail. 



Wakefulness — Eyes all the time coming un- 

 buttoned. 



A small catechism — Kittenchism. 



