18&4. 



XEW EXGLA>rD FARirER. 



159 



LADIES' DEPARTMENT. 



•WAITING FOB THE SPKUS^Q. 



As breezes stir the morning, 



A silence reigns in air ; 

 Steel-blne the hearens abore me. 



Moveless the trees and bare : 

 Yet nnto me the stillness 



This burden seems to bring, — 

 "Patience I the ej>rth is waiting. 



Waiting for the Spring." 



Strong ash, and sturdy chestnat. 



Rough oak, and poplar high. 

 Stretch out their sapless branches 



Against the wintiy skj. 

 Even the guiltv aspen 



Hath cea*ed her quivering, 

 As though she, too, were waiting, 



Waiting for the Spring. 



I strain mine ears to listen. 



If hjply where I stand. 

 But one stray note of music 



May sound in all the land. 

 "Why art thou mure, O Blackbird ? 



O thmsh, why dost not sing ?" 

 Ah ! surely they are waiting, 



Waiting for the Spring. 



heart I thy days are darksome; 



O heart I ihy nights are drear ; 

 But soon shall streams of sunshine 



Proclaim the turning year. 

 Soon shall the trees be leafy. 



Soon every bird shall sing; 

 Like them, be silent, waiting. 



Waiting for the Spring. " Once a ITeei. 



HIGH DRESSES. 



We are thankful for at least one of dame fash- 

 ion's freaks : she has turned her back upon low- 

 necked dresses, and rather insists that collar bones 

 and shoulder blades shall be covered. It is cer- 

 tainly a great improvement — not only because the 

 study of anatomy in private parlors is not desira- 

 ble, and that American damsels are apt to run 

 to bone as some tall flowers do to seed ; and be- 

 cause spinsters of uncertain age, fearful of being 

 outdone by their nieces, piesenied such vast ex- 

 panse of yellow neck and shoulder to the view at 

 evening parties as were calculated to alarm ner- 

 vous people very seriously ; but because, since 

 custom obliges us to wear garments, there can 

 certainly be no reason why we should leave the 

 most delicate portion of our frame without pro- 

 tection. Plump Shoulders and arras are pretty. 

 But so (let us whisper) are plump legs. The 

 mother who should fail to provide her daughter 

 with stockings would be considered a cruel wretch, 

 yet a year ago she might neglect to cover her 

 chest and arms with impunity. We trust this 

 state of things is over. We hope that the wis- 

 dom which causes ever}- prudent parent to pro- 

 tect the pretty shoulders of her little girls with 

 comfortable woollen sacques or capes will be ap- 

 preciated ; that sense will conquer vanity, and 

 that in a little while it will be as absurd to see a 

 woman in a low-necked dress as it would to-day 

 to see a man in a low-necked coat. — Sunday Timse. 



I Ho-w TO pbeseb\t: touk fubs. 



Furs, says a writer in one of the Xew York 



papers, who seems to be thoroughly familiar 



with the subject, should never be put away for 



the summer and forgotten, as they so frequently 



are ; and, nest to being shut up from the air, 



their greatest enemy is damp. If, from the wear- 



1 er being exposed to rain, they become wet, they 



! should always be dried at a moderate distance 



I from the fire immediately ; and in warm weather, 



I when not required for wear, they should never be 



■ shut in a box or drawer for more than a few days 



at a time, and every few weeks they should be 



, shaken and beaten. 



The more delicate skins require somewhat 

 more delicate treatment. The best plan is, prob- 

 ably, not to pack furs away, but to let them lie 

 in a drawer or wardrobe that is constantly being 

 opened, so that ihey may meet the eye frequently, 

 and being thus often in sight, it is easy at con- 

 j venient opportunities, to have them taken out and 

 beaten ; or, at any rate, shaken and tossed and 

 ihoroughly exposed to the air. It is common to 

 hear it remarked that the moth gets into furs, as 

 I if the insect actually mignited from one locality 

 I to another ; the probability is, however, that furs 

 1 and woolens are animal substances, endowed with 

 a vital principle, which develops itself into the 

 living organisms through the decay of its materi- 

 al shape. Cleanliness and airing are, therefore, 

 absolutely essential. 

 I 



I domestic beceipts. 



' To Make Vea Soup. — To four quarts of wa- 

 ter, put in one quart of split peas, three slices of 

 lean bacon (or a ham bone if at hand,) and some 

 roast beef bones, one head of celery, one turnip, 

 and two carrots, cut into small pieces, a little salt 

 and pepper ; let all these simmer gently until the 

 quantity is reduced to two quarts. Run it through 

 a cullender, with a wooden sf>oon. mix a little flour 

 in water, and boil it well with the soup, and slice 

 in another head of celery, adding ca^ enne pepper, 

 and a little more salt. Fry slices of bread in some 

 butter until they assume a light brown color, cut 

 them into small squares, and hand them with the 

 soup, as well as a small dishful of powdered dried 

 sage. 



To Make Cre.\m Pancakes. — Take the yolks 

 of two eggs, mix them with half a pint of good 

 cream, two ounces of sugar ; rub your pan with 

 lard, and fry them as thin as possible ; grate su- 

 gar over them, and serve them up hot. 



QiEEX Cakes. — One pound each of flour, su- 

 gar, and butter worked to a cream ; the yolks of 

 five eggs, the whites of ten. A few caraway and 

 coriander seeds if liked. They are best baked in 

 small, well-buttered tins ; a few currants should 

 be strewn in the bottom of each tin. Half an 

 hour in a slow oven is sutficient. 



To E.\TR.\CT Gre-ase from Silk.— Wet the 

 part wi'h eau de cologne, and gently rub the silk 

 upon itself between the hands. When dry the 

 grease will disappear. This will also remove re- 



The three rules given by the celebrated John cent paint, and the grease from a wax candle 

 Hunter for the rearing of healthy children were, 

 "Plenty of milk, plenty of sleep and plenty of flan- 

 nel," 



Words are but the froth of thoughts. 



A Child is never happy from having his own 

 way. Decide for him, and' he has but one thing 

 to do ; put him to please himself, and he is trou- 

 bled with everything and satisfied with nothing. 



